Chrysanthius, however, could not be caught even by such snares and devices as these, but he consulted the gods, and since the will of heaven was unchanged, he for his part obeyed the gods, and wrote to the emperor that it was in the latter's interest that he should stay in Lydia, and that the gods had informed him of this. The emperor was suspicious about the refusal of his invitation, but he appointed Chrysanthius high priest of Lydia, along with his wife, and entrusted to them the selection of other priests. Meanwhile he himself was setting out in haste for the war against Persia. Both Maximus and Priscus accompanied him, and certain other sophists joined the expedition, so that they amounted to a considerable number; they were, in fact, a mob of men who sang their own praises and were inflated with pride because the emperor said that he had associated with them. But when the enterprise which began with such great and splendid hopes had fallen with a crash to a vague and shapeless ruin and had slipped through his fingers, as I have described more fully in my of Julian, Jovian was made emperor, and he continued to award honours to these men. Then too swiftly and violently he passed away to join his predecessor in Empire (if, indeed, we can say of that predecessor that he merely joined the majority!), and then Valentinian and Valens succeeded to the Imperial throne. Thereupon Maximus and Priscus were carried off in custody, and this time their summons was very different from the time when Julian invited them. For then the summons was, as it were, to some public festival and it lit up the path to ample honours; but in that second summons, instead of bright hopes, danger was clearly visible, for the fear of public and overwhelming disgrace, veiled for them the whole prospect. Priscus, however, suffered no harm, and since evidence was produced that he was a righteous man and had behaved virtuously at the time I speak of, he returned to Greece. It was at the time when the author of this narrative was being educated, and was still a boy just arrived at adolescence. But Maximus, though many clamoured against him, both in public in the theatres and privately to the emperor, in spite of this won admiration because he bore up against such great misfortunes. Nevertheless they inflicted on him the severest possible punishment; for they fined him a sum of money so large that a philosopher could hardly even have heard of such an amount (this was because they suspected that he possessed the property of all the others); and then they regretted it on the ground that they had made his fine too small. He was sent into Asia to make payment of the money, and what he suffered there was beyond any tragedy, and none could have the power of utterance or take such pleasure in the misfortunes of others as to report fully the terrible sufferings of this great man. For even the Persian torture called "The Boat," or the painful toil of the women with the hoe among the Artabri is not to be compared with the agonies inflicted on the body of Maxim us. His wonderful wife was ever by his side and grieve'd over his sufferings. But when there seemed to be no limit to them and they even grew more intense, he said to her: "My wife, buy poison, give it to me and set me free." Accordingly she bought it and came with it in her hand. Thereupon he asked for it to drink but she insisted on drinking first, and when she had straightway died her relatives buried her: but after that Maximus did not drink.


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