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But what, replies Irene, if the attempt you design, is far more likely to destroy you, than to save Didymus? For the barbarous Judge, is so much an Enemy to all Christians, as such, and so much incens’d against You, for your Escape, and Him for having been the Author of it; that the Cruelty of that inexorable man, will make him gladly destroy you both, as far as humane pow’r and rage can do it. And so, without preserving to the Church of Antioch, one of its Ornaments, you will deprive it of another, and a greater; by denying it the Influence it might receive, by so lasting and Exemplary a Vertue, as may justly be expected in a person so pious, and so young, as Theodora.
The Experience, answers Theodora, that this very day has afforded me, forbids me to distrust Divine Providence; and keeps me from despairing to find my endeavors to rescue your Kinsman, succesful; if the Most Wise and Good, as well as Absolute Disposer, of Events, shall not think it less our advantage, to be repriev’d than crown’d. Without presuming therefore, to foresee Events, ‘tis my part to do what God has vouchsafed to put into my power: and ‘tis not my duty to rescue Didymus, but it is to attempt it; and thereby acquit my self as far as I am able, of what I owe to my promise, and my gratitude. If I had the vanity to think, adds she, that in a person of my Sex and Frailties, such a Church as that of Antioch, could be much concern’d; I should think too, that the attempt I am about to make, were the best way to make my life somewhat significant. For, whereas our heathen Adversaries are so blinded with Prejudices, that they look upon all we do or suffer for Christianity, as the effects of a kind of Superstitious Frenzy, that seizes us, and transports us, whenever the Articles of our Faith are contended for: My exposing my self to their fury, rather than be wanting to the dictates of Gratitude, which they, as well as we, look on as a Moral Vertue, may help to convince them, that our love to Vertue is general, and more disinterested, than they thought it: Since Christians can venture and part with their Lives, as well to shun Ingratitude, as to resist Idolatry.
This gratitude, (replies Irene) whose excess gives you and us, so much trouble, is a relative thing; and Benefits or Services receiv’d, ought to be requited by Actions, that are acceptable to those, they are design’d to gratify; but sure, not by such, as we know will be unwelcome to them. And therefore, (continues she) the faithfulest, and most disinterested of your Servants, will be far more unhappy, than the Roman Cruelty can make him, if what he has done, doth not convince you, that he can never look upon any thing, as a favour or retribution to him, that shall destroy, or so much as endanger, his adored Mistress.
I were very unworthy, (rejoins Theodora) if I did not think Didymus capable of the highest Sentiments that generosity and friendship can inspire. But he is too just, to forbid those he loves, to aspire to some share of those noble Quality’s; upon whose account, I am to consider, not so much what his Vertue will relish, as what his condition requires; there being a sort of Debts, to which mine to him belong, that ought to be the more carefully paid, the more frankly they are remitted.
The sorrowful Irene, being exceeding troubled, to see her endeavours unsuccessful, on an occasion, upon which of all others, she most wish’d to find them prevalent, was prompted by her grief, to bring her Eyes to the assistance of her Tongue; and weeping, said to her inflexible Mistress; If, Madam, you will not have any compassion for the excellent Theodora, at least take some pity upon the disconsolate Irene; and if her Arguments cannot move you, be not at least inexorable to her Fears. You have, (continues she) vouchsaf’d me the honour of your friendship, and the happiness of your conversation; and by both these blessings, have given me so much esteem and kindness, for so great a Benefactor, that if you deny me, what I now implore, you will turn the noblest parts of my happiness upon Earth, into instruments of my Infelicity; since, in a World depriv’d of Theodora, the desolate Irene, will Languish, rather than Live, if she should be able to survive so great a Loss.
Theodora, whose Resolution and good Nature were both of them extraordinary, though she had courage enough to support calmly her own personal Sufferings, yet she had tenderness enough to be very sensible of those of her Friends. And the moving expressions of the sorrowful Irene, together with the Tears that accompany’d them, made such an impression on her, that though, having foreseen this Storm, it did not surprize her, yet it did much distress her, and let her; see, how many uneasie Victories she was to gain, before she could triumphantly compleat that days work. And though after a short, but sharp, Conflict, between her kindness and her Resolution, the latter of them prevail’d, yet, ‘twas not without some Reluctancy and Commotion, that she was able to return this Answer. Ah, dear Irene, do not exercise so much Cruelty your self, whilst you reproach me for being Cruel; and do not add to the great affliction of parting with such a Friend as Irene, that of seeing her so much troubled on my account, and of seeing myself necessitated to the uneasie Task of denying a Request of hers. If what I owe to my Religion, and to your generous Cousin, would suffer me upon any terms, to alter the Resolves it prompted me to; the delaration of your desire to have me do it, would have made all the Arguments you employ’d to perswade me to it, unnecessary. ‘Tis true, that among Vertuous Friends, kindness may challenge much, but not to the prejudice of Conscience and Reputation. I hope our Friendship is not, and am sure it ought not to be, barely a mutual fondness of two young Virgins; but that vertue had a gteater share in making and continuing it, than Sympathy and Inclination had. And ‘tis but just, that a friendship, grounded chiefly upon Vertue, should be govern’d and regulated by it. Per-Permit me therefore (pursues she) with that freedom and plainness, that our Friendship allows, to put you in mind, that in the straits wherein Providence has now placed us, it calls upon us to consider, not only that we are Friends, but, that we are Christians too; who ought in reason, as well for our departing as our departed Friends, to listen to the Apostle of us Gentiles, (1 Thess 4. 13) who forbids us, upon the removal of those we love, to give up our selves to Sorrow, as those that have no hope. Indeed, if we were Epicureans, that believe the Soul as mortal, as the Body; or such other Pagans, as bury in the Graves of their Friends, the hopes, or at least the confidence, of meeting them again: we could scarce too bitterly deplore a Seperation, that would certainly, or at least for ought we knew, prove an Eternal one. But having, through the goodness of God been embracers of the Gospel, and enabled, though but imperfectly, yet sincerely, to live according to its Dictates, and be ready to die for its defence; the same Grace may keep us from fearing, that the time of our separation will be lasting enough, to bear any considerable proportion to that Eternity, which will be allow’d us to enjoy each others Company in. And give me leave to tell you, Irene, that I cannot rejoice at any expressions, even of your kindness, that are injurious to your Piety, and bring your love of me, into a competition with that, which ought to be as unparrallel’d as its Object is. They love a Creature too much, that think it too good to be parted with, for the Creators service. ‘Tis a high injury to him, to think we can lose any thing for him, that he cannot make us a rich amends for. And I must not conceal my Opinion, that a Christian disparages both himself and his profession, if he complains, that any loss can make him unhappy, while he possesses the favour of God. Wherefore, my dearest Irene, (concludes She) let your Friendship alleviate my Grief, by shewing me how handsomly you bear your own; and prefer, I beseech you, upon this sad occasion, the Exercise of the more generous, to That of the more tender, Effects of Kindness.
Alas, Madam, says the distress’d Irene, all the fine things you say to comfort me, produce in me, an Effect quite contrary to that you design by them; since they do but the more discover the Excellency and Kindness of the incomparable Person I am going to be depriv’d of; after whose company, I shall find that of the rest of the World, too insipid, so much as to divert me: and therefore, if you will not grant me the Blessing of Living with you, at least do not deny me the satisfaction of Dying with you. For, though Martyrdom be very formidable to a frail Woman, yet Heaven is more desirable to a Christian; and I shall not fear to take a Scaffold or a Stake in my way, when I travel to such a Place, as That, in such Company as yours.
You know, (replies Theodora) as well I, that our Religion commands us to suffer Martyrdom, when we are oblig’d to do it; but forbidsus to thrust ourselves unnecessarily upon so fatal and difficult a work: The Apostles themselves, whose peculiar Office it was, to be the Heralds and Champions of the Gospel, were commanded, when they were persecuted in one City, to fly into another; and accordingly one of the most couragious of them, to avoid needless and unseasonable dangers, (Act. 19. 25) fled to Jerusalem from Damascus; though to do so, He was fain to be let down from the wall of this Place in a Basket. And ‘tis but reasonable, we should not, without a manifest Call of Providence, venture upon a Conflict, in which we do so much depend upon extraordinary Assistances for the Victory, that the same bold Disciple, that so confidently promis’d our Saviour, that He would die for Him, was in an hour or two, the first that renounc’d him. An inspir’d Teacher, who was ambitious to be, as He afterwards prov’d, a Martyr, reckons it to be the Gift of God, not only to Believe in Christ, but to Suffer for that Belief. If (continues She) our Conditions were exchang’d, and Irene, instead of me, were by Divine Providence singl’d out for Martyrdom; I should not envy Her the Glory, of letting many of both Religions see, that Christianity can elevate the Courage of a Woman, to a degree that they think appropriated to Men. I would employ my Prayers rather to obtain of Heaven, a divine Support of Her Resolution, than an inglorious Change of It. And imitating that well natur’d Israelite, who, not only willingly but gladly, parted with his dear Ester, when She went from Him to a Throne; I should be more satisfied with Irene’s Advancement, than with Her Company: And if I did not prefer Her Happiness to my Own, it would be, because indeed I should look upon them so united, that I should find Mine in Hers. Let me then (says Theodora) conjure you, by all Our past and future Friendship, rather to congratulate, than lament, the Remove I am going to make. And be not troubled, that One whom you have been pleas’d so much to Love, is call’d to be early happy. In such hazardous times as these, you know not how soon a Persecutor’s Sword may send you after Her. And at most, this Mortal Life is too short, to let our Separation be very long. And in the mean time, the comfortable Expectation of an unchangeable state, of whose Blessedness the renewed Fruition of each other, will make a Part, and not the greatest neither; may Console you for the absence of a Person, that in the interim will be happy enough to wish You where She is, upon much juster grounds than you can wish Her where She was. Let it then (concludes Theodora, with weeping eyes,) be a sufficient proof of my Esteem and Love of Irene, that I part from Her with Tears, when I am going to a Place, where the Divine Oracles assure us, (Rev. 7. 17) that all Tears shall be wip’d from our Eyes, and be succeeded by a Fulness of Joy, (Psal. 16. 11) that shall last for evermore.