When Catherine Beecher, the tragedy queen and star actress in all Miss Pierce’s plays, went away to Hartford, she left a great vacancy in the society of Litchfield; and when Harriet, author of the essay that had astonished Dr. Lyman Beecher, departed, she carried with her a secluded little ambition of which she spoke to no one. For in those days Harriet was full of poetry and shyly entertained a dream that she herself might join the glorious band of immortal poets. She was soon trying her hand at blank verse, and she planned out a drama that should be written in that form.
When at the age of about thirteen she was filled with her first enthusiasm for classic lore, the subject of “Cleon” attracted her dramatic instinct. Cleon was an historical person whose character and problem were, not so very long after Harriet’s attempt, made the basis of a noble poem by Robert Browning.
The story of Cleon is this: He was a Greek, living at the court of Nero. This fixes the date for us as the first century of the Christian era. He was a follower of the Greek gods, but he heard about Christ and after much searching and doubting he at last came to a true knowledge of Christianity. This transformation is the theme of Harriet’s play.
The scene opens in a street in Rome. Some Roman patricians, dressed in their flowing togas, come upon the stage and discuss the lavish entertainment that this wealthy Greek, Cleon, has been giving.
We shall live twice as fast while he is here,
says one of them.
By Bacchus, then we shall be lived to death;
I’m almost out of breath with living now,
declares the other. The first speaker continues the conversation, describing Cleon as one who has a thirst for pleasure so ravenous that he works with hand and foot and soul, both night and day, to gain diversion, and is so lavish of money that the Emperor Nero with all his waste seems parsimonious compared to Cleon.
This is the picture of Cleon given in the opening scene of the play. In the next scene we find him reclining upon a luxurious couch in his palatial apartment. Enter his old friend and teacher, Diagoras, who has come from Athens to visit him. Diagoras is amazed to see the lavish richness and splendor of the house and the room. When Cleon asks him politely to sit down, he answers that he cannot, for he does not see any seat! Cleon cries out that he thinks that Diagoras must have lost his eyes, and points out that there is in the room a fair choice among some thirty different kinds of couches—couches of the Phrygian and of the Grecian pattern, and many other kinds. Diagoras is astonished when told that these beds adorned with pearls and gold are made to sit on; he is, he says, a simple man, used to plain things, and begs the pardon of Cleon if he has been unappreciative. Cleon thinks that behind this excuse his old teacher is displeased with him; but, as it is, there is no choice between two evils: either Diagoras must rest his philosophic feet upon that most profanely glittering floor which is all inlaid with gems, or he must rest himself upon one of those rich beds. Cleon perceives that this jesting way of speaking is giving pain to his good master, who should have known of old the reckless tongue of Cleon. He assures Diagoras of a hearty welcome and begs him to sit down that they may have a long visit.