AS soon as the Gentleman, that made the past Discourse, had ended it, the just Idea it form’d in the minds of the hearers, and especially of the two Ladies, of the singular Piety and heroick Courage of Didymus, made such an impression on the grateful & compassionate Theodora, as exceedingly heightned her resolution to rescue him, if it were possible, and hast’ned her to begin immediately to attempt it. In order to which, having observ’d that the hearers listen’d so attentively to what the Relator said, that they then minded nothing else, she took that nick of time to withdraw herself silently, into another room; and by a pair of back stairs, convey’d herself out of the house: Whence by indirect wayes, (for fear of being overtaken in the shortest,) she went with as much hast and gladness, to an almost certain death, as others are wont to shun and escape it with; leaving Irene and her other friends, no less amaz’d than troubl’d, when sometime afterward, they perceiv’d her missing, and found all the diligence they employ’d to retrieve her, fruitless. For, Theodora, fearing she could not long escape the diligence of her Pursuers, unless she hasten’d to a place, where she justly thought they would not follow her; delay’d not to go directly towards the Company, that she was told attended the President, in the affairs that were transacting in his Court. Among these Attendants, she had not staid long, before she descry’d her brave Lover, under a strict and rude Guard; but with a look so manly, and so serene, as shew’d, that he deserv’d another usage; and was not in the least daunted nor discompos’d by that he met with. This moving Sight, so affected the generous & compassionate Theodora, that tho’ in so publick place and manner, she could with less reluctancy dye for Didymus, than she could plead for him; yet her gratitude surmounting her bashfulness, after some conflict within herself, she made towards the Tribunal; to which she found a more easie passage than she expected. For, the advantagiousness of her shape and stature, and gracefulness of her motions, easily produc’d for her, such Sentiments, in the admiring by-standers, as made them with great respect, give her way, & let her, without disturbance, pass on to the Bar. She had but a very little while staid there, before the President was mov’d, by the concourse of those whom Curiosity and Wonder invited to gaze on the fair stranger, to cast his eyes on Her; and notwithstanding the unlikelihood, that she should appear there, without having been Forcibly brought thither; as soon as, out of respect to his Dignity, she had lifted up her Veil, he discern’d that it was she, by a sort of Beauty so peculiar, as was not easily either to be met with in others, or to be forgotten by any that had ever seen it.
But, though the Judge were thus surpriz’d at her presence, yet he little less admir’d her Courage, than her Beauty, when, with a Face, wherein the Blushes of her Cheeks, and the Assuredness of her Looks, equally discover’d her Modesty and her Fearlesness, she told him: I know, Sir, that ‘tis a very unusual thing, for a Person of my Sex and Religion, to come to this Place unsent for. But I hope you will be pleas’d to consider, that, as the Action is extraordinary, the Occasion of it is so too. For both Justice, the Virtue that you sit here to distribute; and Gratititude, founded upon the highest Obligations, engage me to appear before you, on the behalf of that brave Prisoner, (at which words she pointed at Didymus,) and present you the Object, on which you may inflict with Legal Justice, what you cannot make him suffer, without being tax’d of Cruelty. For supposing a Debt to be due to the Law, yet it would be more Severe than Just, to prosecute the Security, now the Principal offers to pay the Debt. He may well be look’d upon as my Hostage, whom I now come to redeem: And ‘tis not, Sir, your interest, to decline the Exchange, since by it you will preserve a Person, whose Courage, ingag’d by his Gratitude, may do signal Service in the Roman Army. And since my Escape was all his Crime, I beseech you, let my surrender of my self, obtain his absolution.
Here Theodora paus’d a while, partly to recover from the Disorder, so unusual and difficult an Effort of her Modesty had put her into; and partly, to observe the Judges Countenance, upon his hearing what she had said, and to take measures thence in what she was further to speak. The President in the mean time continued silent, whether the longer to hear the musick of her Voice, or because so many Charms, as Nature had crouded in her Face, and so much sadness, as her concern for her Lover had display’d in her Looks, had somewhat mollify’d him, as they might have done a Tiger. Whereupon the fair Suppliant, hoping that his not interrupting her, proceeded from some relenting Thoughts, resumes her Discourse, in these terms. But if, Sir, to procure the dismission of this Gentleman, your Justice had need to be seconded by your Clemency, perhaps you never had, nor never will have, an Object whose merit may so well warrant the fullest Exercise of it. For his Life, ever since he bore Arms, has been imploy’d in the Service of his Princes, and fearlessly hazarded for their Greatness. And the Action for which he is now in trouble, is so Heroick, and so disinteressed an one of Courage and Compassion, that in it he could scarce have any other motive, than the Greatness of his Generosity, nor other End, than the Exercise of it. Nor need you fear, that your Clemency on this occasion should introduce a bad Example; for this of Didymus is never like to be imitated, nor can be so, but by Persons too virtuous to be Delinquents. And if such Actions be Criminal, at least ‘tis unlikely they will grow common Crimes. And here Theodora, perceiving that the impatient Didymus (now come again to himself, after the astonishing surprize this Adventure gave him) was upon the point to interrupt her, she thus prevents him. And you, brave Didymus, forbear to oppose the accomplishment of my just Desires. The course that I now take, is the only that I could take, to evidence my Gratitude, and to let you see, that you have not exercis’d the noblest Acts of Generosity and Friendship, towards a Person insensible of the Dictates of those Vertues. I could not (continues she) but be glad to be rescu’d from the Ignominy of a Rape, but I did not intend to be robb’d of the Glory of Suffering for Christ; which is also the only means left me to evince, that I Declin’d Dishonor, and not Death, and never meant so much to disoblige the World, as for the sake of an insignificant Maid, to deprive it of one of the most generous of Men. You have left yourself but one way to encrease your past favours, which is, to allow me the only real Expression I can make of my sense of them, & that in such a way, as can, at most, but make some little Diminution of them, without pretending to make a Retribution for them. If therefore (concludes she) you will compleat the Obligation you have laid on me, by preserving to me the Coronet of Virginity, you must not oppose my obtaining the Crown of Martyrdom.
Didymus had need of all the Respect, that he paid his admirable Mistress, to keep him thus long, from interrupting a Discourse, that tended so little to his satisfaction; and therefore she had no sooner put a period to it, than (with a deep sigh) he told her; Cease, Theodora, cease, to plead for the continuance of Life, that you are almost as cruel to me, in thus endeavouring to preserve, as you are, in thus hazarding your own. And if I durst not hope for, from the President, more than I see I must on this occasion, expect from You; I should think my self as perfectly wretched, as (whatever your Intentions be) your proceedings are unkind. But I am confident, our unbyas’d Judge is too impartial, not to discern in your Discourse, that the excess of your Goodness, has had the chief interest in the management of your Plea; the case about which we differ, being in itself so clear, that alone to state it, is sufficient to Plead it on my Behalf. For, I entic’d you to escape out of Prison, and then, at my own peril, facilitated to you the means of doing so: You leave me behind, as a Pawn to the Laws, and these finding me in your room, make their great Minister, before whose Tribunal we stand, doom me, for your Offence, to the Death design’d for your Punishment: Which since I joyfully proffer my self to suffer for you; or rather, since you suffer it in me your Proxy; the illustrious President is too well acquainted with his Office, to need to be told, that, at least in Equity, the Surety’s Payment, discharges the Principal from the Debt; especially, when he not only proffers the Payment, but most earnestly desires the acceptance of It, as a great advantage to him. I hope then, Great Sir, says he, (turning himself to the President, with additional Respect to that he had shew’d him before,) that you will accept of my Life, instead of hers, who deserves a long and happy one; and that, when my Sentence of Condemnation shall be pronounc’d, and gladly acquiesc’d in, it may Free her, I am Condemn’d for. The love of Self-preservation is so natural, that it cannot be made Capital, without affronting Nature, and punishing as well what Men are, as what they do: And the love of Purity and Honour does so much become a Chast Virgin, that the natural consequences of it are too Commendable, to be fit to be made Penal. ‘Tis I, who having despis’d Dangers that I might easily have avoided, when ‘twas Question to do an illegal thing, do yet glory in the Crime, that am the just and proper Object of the rigour of your Laws: And her Years are yet so tender, and her Disposition so innocent, that since, if she have err’d, it was by my persuasions, if she be to be punish’d, it should be in my person. All that she has since alledg’d to appropriate my guilt, or involve herself in it, will, I hope, by a Roman Magistrate be look’d on, as it is indeed, as an argument of her generosity, and not of her crime. And the Romans are too much friends to gallantry, to punish in a Lady, that Vertue, that they applaud and crown even in Soldiers.
But now, continues Diydmus, I must address my self to you, O Theodora: And must complain of, or at least deplore, my infelicity; that after I had done and suffer’d, all that I could, though ‘twas much less than I would, For the preservation of so dear a Life as yours; you come now to hazard it, to make mine end with sorrow. But granting you should prevail, in the no less unwelcom than generous Attempt, you are pleas’d to make; how cruel were you, to envy me at once, the two highest Honors, that my Ambition aspir’d to; the Glory of Martyrdom, and that of Theodoras Rescue? Had I as many lives, as you have vertues, I should esteem them all but a cheap ransom for a few hours of yours: So unlikely I am, and ought to be, to be either capable or desirous, of being preserv’d by your suffering for my actions. And therefore, Madam, if you think my little Services deserve some recompence; since my highest contentments on earth, terminate in your happiness, there is no other way left you to reward them, but the care of your own preservation: It being the only return that I expect or desire of my Services, that you will not, by your inflexibleness, finally make them fruitless; but be content to live for his sake, that will rejoyce to dye for yours.
All the while this noble Dispute lasted, the Judge was, though not an unconcern’d, yet a silent Hearer of it: The strange novelty of the contest, and no less extraordinary generosity and gracefulness of the Contenders, having given him an attention, that kept him from interrupting them. But when their debate had proceeded thus far; his stern nature, whose actings had been but suspended by his curiosity, prompted him to tell the generous Couple; I know not what presumption makes you plead, as if each of you were the others only Judge, and had the Supreme Authority of condemning or absolving you; and I were only an unconcern’d auditor, or at least, sate here to ratifie the Sentence you shall agree upon, between your selves. But you will quickly find, to your cost, that the Roman Laws, and Magistrates, are not to be trifled with.
Great Sir, replies Didymus, you much misapprehend our Conduct, if you think your self slighted by it: For, ‘twas not want of respect to your Authority, and Power, that made us discourse as we did; but a supposition, not injurious to you, that you would in the exercise of that Power, manifest that you deserve it, by tempering it with two excellent vertues, that best become a Magistrate, Equity and Clemency. This presumption, Sir, and not any disrespectful one, was that upon which we proceeded in our discourse; still taking it for granted, that you would not punish two, for that which was indeed, but the fault of one; and that if either of us were, by the others consent, to suffer; your Equity, or your Clemency, would prevail with you, to release the other.
Though Didymus, had worded what he said, so cautiously, that a discerning hearer might perceive, that his expressions related to the Judges Dignity, not his person; yet that self-flattery, which is but too common an attendant on Men in Power, making the President take all these respectful words to himself, made him allow Didymus, without interruption, to proceed in his discourse, and say; you will easily grant, Sir, that Goodness, whereof Clemency is a noble part, may bring a Magistrate, who is Heavens Vice-gerent upon Earth, as high a Veneration as Power or Greatness does; if you please to consider, that those of your Religion, when they would with the most deference speak of God, give the Title of Most Good the preference to that of Most Great, styling him, as the Christians likewise often do, Deus Optimus maximus. Certainly, Clemency is never more a vertue, nor less grudg’d at by Justice, than when ‘tis exercis’d towards Vertuous Persons, by rescuing them from the persecutions of Fortune, and the unintended rigour of the Laws. I say unintended rigour, sayes Didymus, for I cannot think that the Roman Legislators, that have honor’d injur’d Chastity so much in Lucretia, and encourag’d Gallantry and other Vertues, by no less than Crowns and Triumphs; meant to make the productions of Chastity, Constancy and Gratitude, Criminal things. And, tho’ Christians dissent from others in matters of Religion, yet those moral Vertues that were so esteem’d by the Romans, do not lose their nature, when practis’d by Christians: And those brave men, whose love to Vertue made them Masters of the World, did not scruple to honour it in their very Enemies; and did it so much, even in the most irreconcilable of them, that more than one or two Statues of Hannibal were erected at Rome; (Pliny) to which Triumphant City ‘tis perhaps more glorious, to have thus honor’d him, than vanquish’d him. And sure they that thought Lucretias Chastity merited so many Statues, would not think that Theodoras deserv’d a Stake or a Scaffold. This Ladies actions and mine, are not so hainous, but that in happier persons, and milder times, they have been look’d on under a notion very differing from that of criminal ones. But Sir, continues Didymus, addressing himself to the President, in a very humble manner, if there must needs be offer’d up some sacrifice to appease the angry Laws, I beseech you to let their rigour be satisfied with my Blood, and spare this harmless Lady; to whom, if your compassion be needful, I hope you will not want it for an object, whose Excellencies cannot only make it reasonable, but meritorious. For it will preserve to Antioch its fairest Ornament; and a Life so Exemplary, that to give it an untimely period, for actions, which, being laudable in their own nature, nothing but a rigid interpretation of the Law can make criminal, would be to make the Laws a terror, rather to the good than to the wicked. It would be thought inhumane to treat her as a delinquent, whom you may justly wish your daughters should resemble; when by the Grant of what I implore, you will be sure to receive both the thanks of her Sex, and the applause of ours, and what out values both, the satisfaction of having sav’d and oblig’d one of the most admirable Persons in the world.
Didymus now perceiving, that the person he pleaded for, was preparing herself to interrupt him; readdress’d himself to her, and told her; do not, Madam, I beseech you, require of my obsequiousness, proofs inconsistent with my love; and add not to my infelicity, by putting me in so uneasie a condition, as to find it my duty to oppose your desires: Ah! refuse not to oblige the world, by preserving the most accomplish’d it can glory in: Deny me not the satisfaction, whereof I am so ambitious, of being the happy instrument of your deliverance; and then I may say, that I never could justly dye more seasonably than now, when being at the height of all my joyes, my longer life must of necessity give an ebb to my felicity; since after the Glory of having sav’d Theodora, I hope for no higher on Earth, than that of dying for her. Then perceiving her ready to renew the Contest, he told her (with a low voice, that the Judge might not hear him, and with a sadness in his looks, which she, that knew his Courage, could impute to nothing but his almost boundless concern for her;) Madam, though the Presidents impatience did not call upon us to conclude our Contest, yet my condition and resolution ought to put a hasty period to it: For, Madam, I must positively declare to you, that it would be as bootless as cruel, for you to think to protect my Life, by the abandoning of your own: Since to owe a Life to that Cause, would make it not only uneasie but insupportable to me, and consequently uncapable of lasting. So that enjoyning me to survive you, would condemn me to a Life, which after the loss of yours, must be spent, if it could last, in fruitless deploring that Loss. Forbear therefore, concludes he, I most earnestly beseech you Madam, to exact such proofs of my Obedience, that ‘tis as little in my power to give you, as it ought to be in your will to require them; since for Didymus to survive Theodora, is as great an impossibility, as it would be an unhappiness. O admirable Contest! where the noble Antagonists did not strive for Victory, but Death; or endeavour’d to overcome each other, that the Victor might perish for the Vanquish’d: Where Self-love, the most radical affection of human Nature, is sacrific’d to a Love, equally chast and disinteress’d: And where Vertue makes each of the Contenders, in geniously Solicitous to appear Criminal, that the Antagonist may be treated as innocent. How well does this proceeding prove that inspir’d Sentence true, that Love is Stronger than Death, since in this Conflict, the generous Friends, are by the former, made Rivals for the latter?