The Death of the Gods

by Dmitry Sergeyevich Merezhkovsky

  IX

  "Look at those fellows dressed in black, Julian! They are shadows ofnight-fall, shadows of death. Soon there will not be a single ancientwhite robe left, nor a single sun-steeped piece of marble.... All isover!"

  So spoke the young sophist, Antoninus, son of the prophetess Sospitraand of AEdesius, the Neo-Platonist. He was standing with Julian on theterrace of the temple of Pergamos, in bright sunshine, under a sky ofcloudless blue. Along the foot of the balustrade was carven the revoltof the Titans. The gods were triumphing; and the hoofs of the wingedhorses crushing the serpent bodies of the antique giants. Antoninuspointed to the carving--

  "Ah! Julian, the Olympians conquered the Titans, but now the Olympiansin their turn will be beaten by barbaric gods. These temples willbecome tombs...."

  Antoninus was a handsome youth, straight-limbed as one of the oldstatues, but his health had been broken for years by an incurablemalady, and his face had become yellow, lean, and melancholy.

  "I pray the gods," went on Antoninus, "I entreat the gods not tosuffer me to see that night--that I may die before it comes.Rhetoricians, sophists, poets, sages, artists, none of us are wantedany more. We are born in too late a day.... All is over for us!"

  "And suppose you are mistaken?" hazarded Julian.

  "No, all's over! We are not as our forefathers! We are sick, strengthfails us."

  Julian's face seemed as worn and haggard as that of Antoninus. Theprojecting lower lip gave him an expression of taciturn arrogance. Thethick eyebrows were knitted in bitter obstinacy; precocious wrinklesalready furrowed his cheeks. The long nose had grown longer than ever;and his always strange eyes were now burning with a dry, feverish,disagreeable fire. He still wore the monkish habit. During the day hestill attended church, as hitherto; worshipped relics; read thegospels in public, and was preparing to take orders. Sometimes allthis hypocrisy seemed to him worse than useless. He foresaw thatGallus would not escape a premature death, and knew that he himselfmight expect it at any moment.

  But his nights Julian was wont to pass in the great library ofPergamos, where he was studying the works of the great foe ofChristianity, Libanius. He attended the lectures of the Greeksophists, AEdesius of Pergamos, Chrisantius of Sardinia, Priscius ofThesephros, Eusebius of Minos, Proeres, and Nymphidian. These taughthim much about what he had already heard from Iamblicus, of the_triad_ of the Neo-Platonists, and of the "divine ecstasy." He said tohimself--

  "All that is not what I am seeking; they are hiding something fromme!"

  Priscius, imitating Pythagoras, had passed five years in silence,keeping to a vegetarian diet, and using neither raiment of wool norsandal of leather. He wore a cloak of pure white linen and sandals ofpalm leaves stitched together.

  "In our age," he used to say, "the thing of moment is to be able tohold one's tongue, and to meditate on dying worthily."

  Thus Priscius, despising all things, awaited what he called thecatastrophe, that is to say, the complete victory of Christianity overthe Hellenists.

  The wily and prudent Chrisantius, when the subject of the gods wastouched on, would cast his eyes to heaven, avowing that he dared nottalk about them, knowing nothing, and having forgotten what he hadlearnt on the subject. And he advised others to follow his ownexample. As for magic, miracles, and phantasms, he would hear nothingabout them, declaring that they were criminal deceptions, forbidden bythe Imperial laws.

  Julian had no appetite, slept ill; his blood was boiling with passionand impatience. Every morning on awaking he would wonder--

  "Is it to be to-day?"

  He would worry the poor sages with ceaseless questions concerningmysteries and miracles. Some of them he shocked, especiallyChrisantius, who was in the habit of acquiescence in all the opinionswhich seemed to him most foolish.

  On one occasion AEdesius, a timid and learned old man, pitying Julian,said to him--

  "My boy, I want to die quietly; you are young yet. Leave me alone.Address yourself to my disciples; they will reveal to you everything Ihave taught. Yes, there are many things about which we are afraid tospeak, and when you shall have been initiated into the greatermysteries, you will perhaps be ashamed at having been born a meremortal, and of having remained one up till now."

  Euthemus of Minda, a disciple of AEdesius, and a jealous and maliciousfellow, declared to Julian: "There are no more such things asmiracles. Don't expect any. Men have badgered the gods too long. Magicis a lie, and those who believe in it are idiots. But if you arestill hungry for wisdom, and absolutely must have illusions, go toMaximus. He despises our dialectical philosophy, and yet himself....But I don't like speaking ill of my friends. Just hear, however, whathappened lately in a temple of Hecate whither Maximus had conducted usto prove his art. When we had gone in and adored the goddess, he saidto us: 'Sit down, and you shall see a miracle.' We sat down. He threwon the altar a phimian-seed, muttering something,--a hymn Isuppose,--and then we saw the statue of Hecate smile at us! Maximussaid to us: 'Fear nothing when you shall see the two torches held bythe goddess kindle of themselves. Behold!' Before he had finished thesentence the lamps were alight, self-kindled!"

  "The miracle, in fact, was accomplished!" cried Julian.

  "Yes; our emotion was so great that we prostrated ourselves. But whenI came out of the temple I asked myself, 'Is what Maximus does worthyof true philosophy?' Read Pythagoras, Plato--there shall you findwisdom. By divine dialectic to lift the heart of man--is not thatfiner than any miracle?"

  But Julian was listening no more; his eyes sparkled as he gazed at thesurly face of Euthemus, and he murmured as he went forth from theschool--

  "Keep your books and your dialectics! I seek life and faith! Can theyexist without miracles? I thank thee, Euthemus, thou hast pointed meto the man I have sought for long."

  With a bitter smile the sophist answered--

  "Nephew of Constantine, you have not improved upon your ancestors.Miracles were not necessary to the faith of Socrates!"