Diagoras thereupon is made to recline upon one of the couches. He proceeds to tell the cause of his disappointment in his pupil. He has heard that Cleon is the common talk of the city on account of his evil ways, his rioting and his luxuriousness. He has heard that his former pupil has become the companion of the very dross and dregs of all mankind. Cleon interposes, and asks if Diagoras means by the “dross and dregs” the Emperor Nero. Diagoras will not answer directly, but assures him that this is the tale that he has heard about him. He exclaims:
Is this the Athenian Cleon, is this he
Who drank philosophy and worshiped virtue?
This he who triumphed in the Olympian race
Followed by wondering eyes?...
Rememberest thou the glory of those days?
he asks.
Diagoras succeeds in calling the soul of Cleon back from the downward path that it is following. At last Cleon exclaims that it has been only a curse to him to have had so much wealth; he has striven desperately to satisfy himself with the things that satisfy the common crowd, but he has not succeeded.
As the play goes on Cleon passes through a spiritual crisis and becomes a Christian. Now this, we must remember, is the time of the most extreme persecutions of the Christians. Cleon is brought to the supreme test that the followers of Christ were subjected to under the persecuting monarch Nero. An on-looker describes the scene, and tells us that Cleon bore the ordeal with courage; he was steady and undismayed; he declared his fixed purpose, saying that he was willing to abide by whatever should come to him. The one who tells the story says that Cleon would have fared better if he had given a fiery answer to the Emperor, for his very composure made Nero mad and he stamped his foot as a signal to the slaves to bring in the torture.
In the next scene Cleon is led in by two soldiers. Though he is weak and faint from the torture he has endured, he insists upon standing on his feet. Harriet Beecher follows the historical tradition of Nero’s character, in making him cause his friend Cleon to suffer these frightful agonies. The unspeakable Emperor now apologizes for the severity of the torture, and assures Cleon that he has only loving intentions toward him. He gives him permission to keep his religion if he will but consent to worship—privately! “Suppose you do call yourself a Christian,” he says, “why need you let everybody know it? Only be quiet about it and I will not interfere; worship in any way you will, only let it be—out of my sight.” Cleon then asks the Emperor what he shall do if he is questioned about his faith. The Emperor suggests that he should under those circumstances make up some “smooth, decoying phrase” that would turn off the inquiry. Cleon receives this proposal with the shock that shows the inner truth of his nature. He exclaims: