CLEOMENES, THE SPARTAN HERO, TRAGEDY. TO WHICH IS PREFIXED THE LIFE OF CLEOMENES, BY MR THOMAS CREECH. His armis, illá quoque tutus in Auld.-Juv. Sat. iv. CLEOMENES. THERE has been occasion to remark, that Dryden seldom avails himself of national peculiarities, or national costume, in sketching his dramatic personages; the present tragedy forms, however, a remarkable exception to this general observation. Cleomenes, the last of the Spartans, is designed, not only as a hero, but as a Lacedemonian; and is a just picture of that extraordinary race of men, whose virtues were comprized in patriotism, and whose whole passions centered in a thirst for military glory. This character Dryden has drawn with admirable spirit and precision. It was indeed peculiarly suited to his genius; for, although sometimes deficient in the pathos and natural expression of violent passion, by which Otway, and even Southerne, could affect the passions of an audience, he never fails in expressing, in the most noble language, the sentiments of that stoical philosophy, which considers sufferings rather as subjects of moral reflection, than of natural feeling. Yet, lest a character so invulnerable to the shafts of adversity, so much the totus teres atque rotundus of the poet, should fail to interest the audience, (for we seldom pity those who shew no symptoms of feeling their own sorrows,) Dryden has softened the character of his Spartan hero by the influence of those chaste and tender domestic affections, which thrive best in bosoms rendered by nature or philosophy inaccessible to selfish feeling. The haughty and unbending spirit, the love of war, and thirst of honour proper to the Lacedemonian, and inculcated by the whole train of his education, complete the character of Cleomenes. The same spirit, which animates the father, is finely represented as descending upon the son. Cleonidas is a model of a Spartan youth; and every slight expression which he uses, tends to bring out that celebrated character. The idea of this spirited boy seems to be taken from the excellent character of Hengo, in the "Bonduca" of Beaumont and Fletcher; whom Cleonidas resembles in the manner of his death, and in his previous sufferings by hunger, as well as in his premature courage, and emulation of his father's military glory.* The * The whole passage is so very fine, that I think I may venture to extract it from this beautiful and forgotten tragedy. Caratach and wife and mother of Cleomenes seem to be sketched after those of Coriolanus the former exhibiting a mild and gentle disposition; the latter, the high-souled magnanimity of a Spartan matron. Of the other characters, little need be said. Ptolemy is a silly tyrant, Sosibius a wily minister, and Cleanthes a friend and confident; such as tyrants, ministers, and confidents in tragedies usually are. Judging from his first appearance, the author seems to Hengo, the uncle and nephew, are besieged on a rock by the Romans, and reduced to extremity by hunger. They are decoyed by some food, hung on a rock by the centurion Judas. CARATACH and HENGO on the rock. Caratach. Courage, my boy! I have found meat: Look, Hengo, Look where some blessed Briton, to preserve thee, Was hung a little food and drink; cheer up, boy, Do not forsake me now! Hengo. Oh uncle, uncle, I feel I cannot stay long; yet I'll fetch it, To keep your noble life. Uncle, I'm heart-whole, Car. Thou shalt, long, I hope. Enter, below, MACER and JUDAS, Romans. Macer. Mark them well, Judas. Judas. Peace, as you love your Hengo. Do not you hear The noise of bells? life. Car. Of bells, boy? 'tis thy fancy; Alas, thy body's full of wind! Hengo. Methinks, sir, They ring a strange sad knell, a preparation To some near funeral of state.-Nay, weep not, Mine own sweet uncle; you will kill me sooner. Car. Oh, my poor chicken! Hengo. Fie, faint-hearted uncle! Come, tie me in your belt, and let me down. Car. I'll go myself, boy. Hengo. No, as you love me, uncle; I will not eat it, if I do not fetch it; The danger only I desire: pray tie me. Car. I will, and all my care hang o'er thee! Come, child, My valiant child. Hengo. Let me down apace, uncle; And you shall see how, like a daw, I'll whip it From all their policies; for 'tis most certain have intended Pantheus as a character somewhat in contrast to that of Cleomenes; but he soon tires of the task of discrimination, and Pantheus sinks into a mere assistant. Cassandra is not sketched with any peculiar care; her snares are of a nature not very perilous to Spartan virtue, for her manners are too openly licentious. Such, however, as are fond of tracing the ideas of poets to those who have written before them, may consider Cas A Roman train; and you must hold me sure too; Car. Go, in the name of heaven, boy.— Hengo. Quick, quick, good uncle! I have it-Oh! [Lets him down. [JUDAS shoots HENGO. [He kills JUDAS with a stone, Destruction Go with thy coward soul!-How dost thou, boy?— Oh villain, pocky villain! Hengo. Oh, uncle, uncle, Oh how it pricks me! Am I preserved for this? Extremely pricks me. Car. Coward, rascal coward! Dogs eat thy flesh ! Hengo. Oh, I bleed hard! I faint too; out upon't, How sick I am!-the lean rogue, uncle! Car. Look, boy; I've laid him sure enough. Hengo. Have you knocked his brains out? Cur. I warrant thee, for stirring more; cheer up, child. Hengo. Hold my sides hard; stop, stop; oh, wretched fortune, Must we part thus? Still I grow sicker, uncle. Car. Heaven look upon this noble child! Hengo. I once hoped I should have lived to have met these bloody Romans At my sword's point, to have revenged my father, To have beaten them. Oh hold me hard!-but, uncle Car. Thou shalt live still, I hope, boy. Shall I draw it? Hengo. You draw away my soul, then. I would live A little longer; spare me, heavens! but only To thank you for your tender love. Good uncle, Car. Oh my chicken, My dear boy, what shall I lose! Hengo. Why, a child That must have died however; had this 'scaped me, Fever or famine. I was born to die, sir. |