80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page i
MISERY AND FORGIVENESS
IN
EURIPIDES
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page ii
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page iii
M ISERY AND
F ORGIVENESS
IN
E URIPIDES :
M EANING AND S TRUCTURE
IN H IPPOLYTUS
Boris Nikolsky
Translated from the Russian by
Mikhail Nikolsky
The Classical Press of Wales
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page iv
First published in 2015 by
The Classical Press of Wales
15 Rosehill Terrace, Swansea SA1 6JN
Tel: +44 (0)1792 458397
www.classicalpressofwales.co.uk
Distributor
Distributor in the United States of America
© 2015 Boris Nikolsky
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval
system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying,
recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.
ISBN 978-1-910589-03-8
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Typeset, printed and bound in the UK by Gomer Press, Llandysul, Ceredigion, Wales
–––––––––––––––––
The Classical Press of Wales, an independent venture, was founded in 1993, initially to support the work
of classicists and ancient historians in Wales and their collaborators from further afield. More recently it has
published work initiated by scholars internationally. While retaining a special loyalty to Wales and the Celtic
countries, the Press welcomes scholarly contributions from all parts of the world.
The symbol of the Press is the Red Kite. This bird, once widespread in Britain, was reduced by
1905 to some five individuals confined to a small area known as ‘The Desert of Wales’ – the
upper Tywi valley. Geneticists report that the stock was saved from terminal inbreeding by the
arrival of one stray female bird from Germany. After much careful protection, the Red Kite now
thrives – in Wales and beyond.
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page v
To the memory
of
Gregory Dashevsky
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page vi
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page vii
CONTENTS
Page
Acknowledgements ix
Introduction xi
1 Involuntary Faults, Exculpation and Forgiveness 1
2 Speech and Vision 27
3 αἰδώς and the Ambivalence of Virtue 41
4 The Virtue of Hippolytus and Phaedra 75
5 Humans, Gods and the Structure of the Dramatic Conflict 93
6 Images of Nature 123
7 Scenic and Dramatic Space 159
Notes 179
Bibliography 197
Index 203
Index locorum 000
vii
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page viii
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page ix
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
My thanks are due first and foremost to my recently deceased friend
Gregory Dashevsky, who read every chapter and gave me the constant
benefit of his wise advice; to David Konstan and Deborah Boedeker,
who eliminated many errors and misjudgements; and to Anton Powell and
J.M. Trappes-Lomax of the CPW, whose valuable suggestions have helped
me greatly to improve my style and argumentation. I am also very grateful
to the Fondation Maison des Sciences de l’Homme and the Fulbright
Program for their financial support.
ix
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page x
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page xi
INTRODUCTION
Like many other readers of Greek tragedy, I believe that a tragedy was not
just an interesting dramatized representation of a traditional mythological
story but that it also carried a certain meaning. In my view, this meaning
was deliberately put into the text by its author, and the entire tragedy was
permeated with it and served as its artistic embodiment. To discover such
a meaning capable of explaining the whole multitude of details of a
dramatic work – that is, to provide an interpretation of a dramatic work –
is a highly important task in examining any tragedy.
Most studies of individual tragedies are focused precisely on their
interpretation. However, the very number of interpretations of each
tragedy, their variety and mutual incompatibility make one admit that there
is no common opinion among scholars about any one of them. Quite a
few critics, influenced by poststructuralist ideas, abandon searches for the
one ‘correct’ interpretation adequately reflecting the author’s intention.
In their opinion, the text exists separately from the author; it has meanings
of its own independent of the author’s will; the text absorbs the entire
multitude of meanings which we read into it, and therefore a single ‘correct’
interpretation should not be contrasted to all other ‘wrong’ interpretations.
I by no means rule out the possibility of reading an ancient drama with
modern eyes and looking in it for associations and meanings which are
unexpectedly discovered and which were not put into it by the author.1
My task, however, is a different one. I am convinced that Greek tragedy,
just as an absolute majority of classical texts, was created in accordance
with the author’s conscious intention and expresses a definite meaning
conceived by the author. Therefore, we may strive to find an objectively
correct interpretation. The fact that there is no single opinion among scholars
about nearly any tragedy is indicative not of the specific features of
tragedies but of shortcomings in the methodology of interpretation studies.
The study now offered is based on several methodological principles
which follow from my idea of Euripides’ dramatic technique:
Euripides’ tragedies have a well thought-out, complex yet uniform
integral structure in which all elements exist not by themselves but in
interrelation with one another. Only this structure as a whole can express
meaning; it cannot be sought in individual elements – individual thoughts
or passages. Applicable to the studies of Euripides’ tragedies are Tolstoy’s
words with which, in a letter to N. N. Strakhov (23–26 April 1876), he
xi
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page xii
Boris Nikolsky
described competent art critics: ‘For art criticism we need people who
would show the senselessness of looking for individual ideas in a work of
art, but who instead would continually guide readers in that endless
labyrinth of linkages that makes up the stuff of art, and bring them to the
laws that serve as the foundation for those linkages.’ 2
Critics who agree that a tragedy should be an integral whole often,
following Aristotle, wish to see this integrity in unity of action and unity of
the central character. In Euripides, however, we find everywhere examples
of lack of such unity. Some of his tragedies, such as Andromache, break up
into parts each of which has its own action loosely linked to the action in
the other parts; other tragedies such as, for example, The Trojan Women, are
devoid of any action at all. In most of his tragedies, including Hippolytus,
there is not a single central character, and now one character, now another
finds himself or herself at the center of attention.
Plays devoid of unity of action are often regarded as failures. Sometimes
researchers totally abandon attempts to find integrity and arrive at the
conclusion that Euripides did not aim at unity in his works but, on the
contrary, deliberately destroyed it, using unexpected dramatic moves
astounding the public.3
I believe that each of Euripides’ dramas is an integral whole, but that
their integrity is created above all not by unity of linear action and not by
unity of character but by echoing between various dramatic events and
situations linked with one another by relations of similarity or contrast.4
This echoing is emphasized through repeated use of words and images
similarly describing different situations.5 Thus, it is the study of repeated
elements of a drama which proves to be the most essential to understanding
its architectonics.
For convenience of working with such elements, I use the concept of
motif which, following the Russian structuralist school, I understand to
mean any repeating element having meaning. It may be a word or a concept
expressed with synonymic words (in which case we speak about a lexical
motif) or a recurrent poetic image, or a stage object, gesture or element of
the stage space repeatedly appearing before the audience and having a
meaning (stage motif), or, finally, a recurrent dramatic situation (dramatic
motif). Motifs enter into various relations with one another. These may be
relations of contrast (for example, in Hippolytus we come across contrasting
motifs of power of gods vs. weakness of humans) or relations of logical link
(for example, in Hippolytus, speech as the cause of emotions and ignorance);
finally, some motifs may refer to others, acting as their symbolic and image
expression (for example, sailing on the sea symbolizes human misfortunes).
In addition, since a tragedy performed on stage is a work moving over time,
xii
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page xiii
Introduction
each motif has certain dynamics and its meanings may develop and
transform. Simultaneous development of different motifs creates a
complex dynamic composition reminiscent of musical counterpoint.
Motifs organized into a motif structure express certain ideas of the
world and human life. Some motifs do this directly and straightforwardly
(for example, motifs of ignorance or virtue may reflect certain ideas about
knowledge or morality), and others through their image associations with
direct motifs.
Notions expressed in a drama can be called meanings or themes. There
may be quite a few such themes in a single tragedy; however, a meaning
dominant – the theme for the sake of which the drama has been created –
can be singled out in any drama. All other themes will be subordinate or
auxiliary; they are logically linked to the dominant meaning and serve to
reveal or emphasize it. The common error of interpreters is to mistake an
auxiliary theme for the main, dominant one. The method of distinguishing
is quite obvious: the dominant theme should explain the entire structure of
a drama and not just some of its parts.
Since a tragedy of Euripides, in particular, Hippolytus, is a harmonious,
logical and carefully thought-out system of meanings subordinated to a
single conception and aimed at expressing the main theme of a play, the
requirements for its interpretation should be the same as are usually placed
on descriptions of systems of this type: it should possess simplicity, fullness
and consistency.
Proceeding from these methodological premises, I am going to propose
a new interpretation of Euripides’ tragedy Hippolytus. There are quite a
number of studies dealing with this play; in some of them we find a very
subtle and clever analysis, yet there has so far been no interpretation of
this tragedy that would provide an exhaustive explanation of its entire
artistic and meaning structure.
According to one point of view, its main character is Hippolytus and its
main conflict is between Aphrodite and Artemis, epitomizing physical
passion and purity.6 Hippolytus’ striving for purity and his rejection of
Aphrodite, which becomes the cause of his death, could be assessed
differently. Some researchers viewed Hippolytus’ attempt to renounce the
slavery of flesh, overcome the laws of the physical world and ascend to
the spiritual ideal of purity as his particular merit, and perceived the hero’s
death as his triumph.7 Others, on the contrary, assumed that Hippolytus’
rebellion must have seemed unnatural to the 5th century BC Athenians and
inspired condemnation rather than compassion. They believed that
Hippolytus was represented as a violator of the principle of ‘nothing too
much’ (µηδὲν ἄγαν) infringing the natural laws of human existence in his
xiii
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page xiv
Boris Nikolsky
excessive chastity and viewed his death as a just retribution for his
transgression.8
Grene,9 on the other hand, paid attention to the fact that Phaedra played
a no less significant part in the tragedy than Hippolytus did. Moreover,
Hippolytus does almost nothing throughout the drama; he only suffers
punishment for his actions committed prior to the beginning of the play,
and the entire dramatic movement is determined by Phaedra’s behavior.
Therefore Grene decided that Phaedra was the main character and the
tragic confrontation of her chastity and passion forcing her, against her
will, to betray her virtue was the main conflict. With this explanation of the
conflict, the meaning of the tragedy turns out to be psychological rather
than moral, for Hippolytus now demonstrates not the right or wrong way of
behaving but a natural psychological given – the irresistible and destructive
power of love.
Authors of subsequent studies either followed one of these two
interpretations or tried to combine them, reading Hippolytus both as a
tragedy about inescapable punishment for underestimating love and about
the irresistible force of love. Psychoanalysis that became so influential in
the 20th century favored this ‘mixed’ interpretation. A psychoanalytical
reading of Hippolytus was first suggested by Dodds,10 who viewed both
Phaedra’s and Hippolytus’ behavior as an attempt to suppress sexual
desires; therefore, in his opinion, the tragedy was meant to show the
destructive result of such attempts. A similar view was later held by Segal,
who thought that Hippolytus demonstrated ‘the result of man’s futile
attempt to suppress a basic part of his nature.’ 11 Zeitlin also thinks that the
stories of Phaedra and Hippolytus point to one and the same meaning, the
affirmation of the power of Aphrodite: ‘Hippolytus must meet his fate in
order to reconfirm the truth of the cultural dictum that no one may refuse
the power of Aphrodite with impunity... Phaedra’s reversion to her
traditional role in the story only reinforces the lesson that the power of
Aphrodite is indeed irresistible.’ 12
When critics try to explain both main lines of the drama, those of Phaedra
and Hippolytus, by one common meaning, the irresistible force of love,
they fail to pay attention to certain details that prevent one from reconciling
the situations of the two characters. Hippolytus’ behavior at the beginning
of the tragedy is pictured as breaking moral rules, and so his doom may be
regarded as a just retribution for the offense, presenting a kind of moral
lesson: a human being ought not to turn away from sexual love. But if this
is the tragedy’s message, then Phaedra’s story does not reinforce its lesson
but, on the contrary, it deprives it of all sense. Unlike Hippolytus, Phaedra
is respectful to Aphrodite; nevertheless, she becomes her victim as well.
xiv
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page xv
Introduction
Phaedra’s fate shows that the same doom awaits us regardless of our
attitude towards Aphrodite and regardless of our actual guilt.
On the other hand, if following Grene we interpret the tragedy not in
moral but in psychological sense implied in Phaedra’s story (any struggle
against ἔρως is going to fail), then why did Euripides stress Hippolytus’
ὕβρις showing it as the cause of his ruin? Why did he make the logic of
guilt and punishment the axis of his plot?
It is necessary to accept the inevitable conclusion that one and the same
meaning cannot be deduced from both Phaedra’s and Hippolytus’ fates,
at least if we understand the play’s meaning as being concerned with
the irresistible force of love or the inevitability of punishment for
underestimating it. Besides, the usual interpretation does not take account
of other aspects of the play which were discovered in critical studies in
the last 50–60 years, e.g., themes of speech and silence,13 reality and
appearance,14 and ignorance.15 Thus, we have to look for some other,
‘synthetic’ interpretation of the tragedy that would determine the proper
place of each of these themes in the play’s structure.
To propose such an interpretation is the main task of my study. As I
will try to argue, the love theme, even though playing an important role in
the plot of Hippolytus, nevertheless is not at all its dominant theme. Love
with its irresistible and destructive force is only a particular example of the
ruinous reality in which humans live and before which they are infinitely
weak. Such a picture of reality does not mean that there is no moral
message in Hippolytus and that its aim is only to recognize human weakness.
The moral sense is being prepared throughout the entire drama, and then
is clearly revealed in its finale. It may be summed up as follows:
Humans are weak, and therefore they turn out to be not culprits but victims of fate.
Their will always tends towards virtue, but their natural weakness and the ambivalence
of virtue itself lead them to wrong actions. Their conflicts are apparent and mutual
blaming is ungrounded, and it is exoneration and forgiveness that is shown as the highest
and only pure moral value.16
This interpretation17 is based on the analysis of the play’s motif and
thematic structure, and that is why the material in this book is organized
in such a way as to reveal this structure. The book consists of seven
chapters. The subject of the first five chapters is the thematic content of
Hippolytus: the first four chapters deal with moral themes and human
behavior and the fifth chapter focuses on the relations between gods and
humans. In the last two chapters, I will analyze two specific poetical and
dramatic devices reflecting the play’s thematic content – the way in which
Euripides uses recurrent natural imagery and the particular mode of
organizing the stage space.
xv
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page xvi
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 1
1
INVOLUNTARY FAULTS, EXCULPATION
AND FORGIVENESS
An important, if not central, place in critical works dealing with Hippolytus
has always been given to the moral assessment of its characters. Scholars,
however, have never been unanimous. Their judgments range from
accusing all the characters – for example, of criminal and deliberate
ignorance18 – to recognizing the absolute innocence of both Phaedra and
Hippolytus and, even, meritoriousness of all their actions.19 Some critics see
‘moral downfall’ in Phaedra’s line of conduct,20 while others pay more
attention to Hippolytus’ guilt, seeing the meaning of the drama in the
inevitability of punishment for excessive puritanism and underestimation
of sexual love.21 The Nurse alone receives general condemnation for her
pragmatism and lack of moral rigor.
The picture formed through comparison of so widely different opinions
about the characters in the drama vividly attests to two facts. On the one
hand, all these opinions reflect the significant role that the moral assessment
of the characters plays in the drama. At the same time, such a marked lack
of unanimity is indicative of a certain arbitrariness of scholars’ judgments.
This arbitrariness, in my view, comes from two major methodological
shortcomings. Firstly, some of these judgments do not take account of the
structural qualities of the tragedy’s composition woven from repeating
images, themes, situations and patterns of behavior. The repeated lexical,
poetic and dramatic motifs give the work its specific integrity and most
fully express the author’s conception, and therefore they must serve as a
key to any thematic analysis, including the psychological and moral analysis
of the characters’ actions. Yet sometimes scholars such as, for example,
Barrett and Kovacs, for all the subtlety of their comments, pass their
judgments on individual characters and their individual actions without
paying attention to the similarity of their psychological motivation and to
the general patterns governing their behavior. Sometimes critics see these
general patterns but in no way relate them to other recurrent themes; for
example, Hathorn and in his wake Luschnig 22 rightly emphasize the role of
ignorance in the motivation of actions of all the characters, yet they speak
about criminal deliberate ignorance, failing to notice that, on the contrary,
1
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 2
Chapter 1
ignorance is represented as an essential exonerating factor throughout the
tragedy.
The other shortcoming is the lack of appropriate intertextual analysis.
The judgments about the characters’ behavior could be given more clarity
and persuasiveness by correlating them with the principles of moral
evaluation in the days of Euripides that were reflected in the language and
topics of contemporary literature.
In this chapter, I would like to correct both these methodological
shortcomings to a certain extent. On the one hand, I will try to show that
Euripides in his Hippolytus makes use of the topos of ‘involuntary errors’
used in judicial speeches and additionally developed by the Sophists.
On the other hand, I am going to analyze the semantics and functions
which this topos acquires in the tragedy, demonstrating its dual role: it
serves as the conceptual core of the drama whose entire dynamics is aimed
at the final exculpation of all of its human characters and, at the same time,
individual elements of this topos possessing dramatic expressivity
(ignorance, emotions) become in the tragedy its most significant motifs.
Finally, I will try to prove that it is not the affirmation of the moral guilt of
one character or another but the problems of passing a moral judgment, of
indulgence and forgiveness, that are at the center of the tragedy.
In the exodos of the tragedy, the goddess Artemis appears above the
orchē stra and, from the height of her divine position, reveals to Theseus the
truth about the innocence of Hippolytus and about the error made by
Theseus – his unjust punishment of his son. In addition to this factual
knowledge, Artemis offers Theseus moral assessments of the actions of
the main participants in the drama. According to her, Hippolytus with his
‘guiltless heart’ should at least die with a good name (1298–9). Phaedra,
having shown some sort of nobility (1300–1) and having attempted to
conquer Aphrodite by her resolve, was destroyed not of her own will (οὐχ
ἑκοῦσα) by the contrivances of her Nurse (1304–5). Finally, Theseus is first
condemned by the goddess for the hastiness of his decision to punish
Hippolytus; then, however, Artemis admits that he deserves pardon, since
such was the will of Aphrodite, since Theseus did not know the truth and
since he was deceived by his wife’s lies that persuaded him (1334–7).
A little later, Artemis will repeat her acquittal of Theseus, insisting on
the need for reconciliation between Theseus and Hippolytus and for
forgiveness (1431–4):
σὺ δ᾽, ὦ γεραιοῦ τέκνον Αἰγέως, λαβὲ
σὸν παῖδ᾽ ἐν ἀγκάλαισι καὶ προσέλκυσαι·
ἄκων γὰρ ὤλεσάς νιν · ἀνθρώποισι δὲ
θεῶν διδόντων εἰκὸς ἐξαµαρτάνειν.
2
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 3
Involuntary faults, exculpation and forgiveness
But you, child of old Aegeus, take your son in your arms and embrace him.
For involuntarily you killed him, and when the gods so send, it is understandable
that men make errors.23
Particular attention should be given to the two main and interrelated motifs
sounding in Artemis’ speech – firstly, the motif of the involuntariness of
actions (about Phaedra – οὐχ ἑκοῦσα, 1305; about Theseus – ἄκων, 1433)
and, secondly, the motif of forgiveness, expressed by the word συγγνώµη,
logically following from the former. ‘You have done dreadful deeds, but for
all that it is still possible for you to win pardon for these things,’ (δείν᾽
ἔπραξας, ἀλλ᾽ ὅµως / ἔτ᾽ ἔστι καί σοι τῶνδε συγγνώµης τυχεῖν) Artemis says to
Theseus (1325–6), recalling the circumstances extenuating his guilt and
making it possible to evaluate his action as unwitting – such as Aphrodite’s
will and his ignorance.
Both these motifs are found not only in this passage. They are constantly
present in the tragedy, being expressed both directly, in repeated words
συγγνώµη (117, 615) and ἄκων/οὐχ ἑκών (319, 324, 358, 693, 1433) and indirectly,
in depicting the characters’ actions and their psychological motivation.
I will try to show that the idea of forgiveness appearing in Artemis’
statement concerning Theseus’ action and then embodied in Theseus’ final
forgiveness by Hippolytus is equally applicable to all the characters, that
exculpation and forgiveness is the central theme of the tragedy and that
both in the goddess’s argumentation and in constructing all the dramatic
situations in the tragedy Euripides is using an ‘exculpatory’ topos borrowed
from apologetic rhetoric.
A combination of these two motifs – involuntary misdeeds and
forgiveness – constituted a topos widespread in Athenian rhetoric, and a
brief overview of that topos will make it possible to clarify their role and
significance in Hippolytus.
Athenian orators of the 5th and 4th centuries BC quite often divided
misdeeds into involuntary (ἀκούσια) and deliberate (ἑκούσια); the distinctive
feature of the latter was the deliberate ill will of the subject (πρόνοια,
ἐπιβουλή, γνώµη). Where a misdeed was determined to be deliberate, this
served as a basis both for legal prosecution and for moral condemnation:
a person who committed it was recognized as ‘base’ (κακός, πονηρός). The
involuntariness of a misdeed, in its turn, becomes a cause for indulgence
or forgiveness (συγγνώµη).24
The same division was used by Aristotle in his ethical treatises in
determining which actions may deserve moral assessment and are therefore
the correct sphere of application of the concepts of virtue and vice: according
to him, praise and condemnation only extend to deliberate actions, whereas
to involuntary actions one can apply not assessment but only forgiveness.25
3
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 4
Chapter 1
The orators’ and Aristotle’s texts provide a complete picture of the
reasons that made it possible to classify an action as involuntary. Since the
deliberateness of an action is determined by a willful design (γνώµη) – an
intellectual concept implying the knowledge of circumstances – the main
distinctive feature of involuntary actions is ignorance (ἄγνοια). Thus, for
example, in Cleon’s speech against the Mytilenaeans, reported by Thucydides,
involuntary offenses are contrasted with those committed deliberately
(3.40.1): ‘Their [the Mytilenaeans’] offense was not involuntary, but of
malice and deliberate (ἄκοντες µὲν γὰρ οὐκ ἔβλαψαν, εἰδότες δ᾽ ἐπεβούλευσαν);
and pardon is only for the involuntary offense (ξύγγνωµόν δ’ ἐστι τὸ ἀκούσιον).’
We also find a connection between involuntary wrongdoings and ignorance
in a passage from Xenophon’s Cyropaedia (3.1.38): ‘And whatever faults
men commit through ignorance, I consider them all involuntary.’ Finally,
Aristotle describes one of the two classes of involuntary actions that he
singles out as determined by ignorance (δι᾽ ἄγνοιαν, EN 1110b18 ff.).
In most cases, ignorance is used to mean practical ignorance, i.e., a lack
of knowledge concerning particular circumstances, which sometimes
relieves one of responsibility completely and according to law. Sometimes,
however, the argument about ignorance might be used in a more general
sense – not a lack of knowledge concerning particular circumstances but
ignorance of laws.26 This argument in its extreme form is used by Plato for
proving the paradoxical thesis about the involuntariness of all wrongdoings
(ἑκούσια πάντα τὰ ἁµαρτήµατα), which he ascribes to Socrates, and which the
latter probably borrowed from the Sophists: Plato explains all moral sins
by ignorance of moral laws (e.g., Grg. 467c–468d, Prt. 354e–357e, Laws
860c–e). Overall, as we can see, the limits of applicability of the argument
about ignorance are quite wide – from a particular lack of knowledge of the
situation to a general lack of legal or moral knowledge, and its use in the
latter, most general sense offers an opportunity for paradoxical justification
of any misdeed whatsoever.
The second reason making it possible to assess a wrongdoing as
involuntary and therefore deserving forgiveness is: passions and emotions
such as anger (ὀργή), erotic desire (ἔρως), and the state of drunkenness
(µέθη). These factors had a smaller exculpatory power compared with
ignorance; they could not completely relieve an accused of responsibility
and the prosecutor could call on the judges not to take them into account,
and yet their role as mitigating circumstances was rather substantial. For
example, in Lysias’ first speech Against Theomnestes, the prosecutor’s words
bear evidence that Theomnestes pleaded anger as defense for his misdeed:
‘I hear, gentlemen, that he [Theomnestes] is resorting to the argument that
he has made these statements in a fit of anger (ὀργισθείς)’ (10.30).
4
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 5
Involuntary faults, exculpation and forgiveness
In Demosthenes’ speech Against Meidias (21.38), a list is given of the
motives that could mitigate the guilt of the accused in several cases previously
tried in the court – a case of beating a thesmothetes and a case of beating
a proedros by a certain Polyzelus. In the case of Polyzelus, named as such
are his anger and hasty temper that made the accused lose his head (ὀργῇ
καὶ τρόπου προπετείᾳ φθάσας τὸν λογισµὸν ἁµαρτὼν ἔπαισεν) and, in the case of
beating the thesmothetes, drunkenness and love alongside ignorance caused
by the darkness of the night. As can be seen from the example of Polyzelus,
not only an instantaneous emotion (anger) but also a certain constant
temper making a person particularly susceptible to emotions could serve
as an exculpatory motive. It is therefore no coincidence that mitigating
circumstances sometimes include, for example, a person’s young age
associated with emotions and passions or with inexperience and ignorance.27
Finally, the third category of factors mitigating guilt and making it
possible to ask for forgiveness are external causes. Aristotle singles out
actions of this type into a special class of ‘forced’ actions (βίᾳ), which
include actions motivated by the will of other people or by external
circumstances (EN 1110a1 ff.). This category of motives was also widely
used in the exculpatory argumentation of judicial rhetoric. For example,
recognized as deserving indulgence are those who have committed a
crime not of their own will but by the will of the authority.28 Deserving
indulgence are also those who have been compelled to commit a
wrongdoing by the hard circumstances of their lives – poverty, illnesses
and other misfortunes. As Lysias said in his speech Against Philon
(31.10–11) about those accused of non–participation in the democratic
resistance to the dictatorship of the Thirty: ‘Now those who were
prevented by private calamities (διὰ συµφορὰς ἰδίας) from sharing the
dangers that then beset the city deserve some indulgence (συγγνώµης τινὸς
ἄξιοί εἰσι τυχεῖν): for misfortune befalls no man of his own will (οὐδενὶ γὰρ
οὐδὲν ἑκούσιον δυστύχηµα γίγνεται). But those who acted thus by design
(γνώµῃ) merit no indulgence, since their conduct was due not to mishap, but
to policy (οὐ γὰρ διὰ δυστυχίαν ἀλλὰ δι᾽ ἐπιβουλήν).’ One of these latter, in
the orator’s opinion, was the accused, Philon, who failed to fulfill his civic
duty, although he was neither ill nor poor and therefore not entitled to
expect forgiveness. Philon’s lack of mitigating motifs enables the orator to
demand his punishment by the court and his moral condemnation (his
recognition as ‘base,’ κακός) and to expect his fellow citizens’ hatred
towards him. The connection between misfortunes, involuntariness and
forgiveness is explicitly designated in the phrase summing up this argument
(31.11): ‘It is a custom accepted as just among all mankind that in face of
the same crimes we should be most incensed with those men who are most
5
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 6
Chapter 1
able to avoid criminal action, but should be indulgent (συγγνώµην ἔχειν) to
the poor or disabled because we regard their offences as involuntary
(ἄκοντας αὐτοὺς ἁµαρτάνειν).’
Thus, judicial rhetoric recognizes three types of factor permitting one
to recognize a misdeed as involuntary and deserving indulgence – these
are ignorance or erroneous opinion, emotions, and external causes. They
indicate a lack of ill will in an action; they should mitigate punishment or
release one from it and relieve the subject of a misdeed from moral
condemnation – from his characterization as κακός and πονηρός.
If we turn to Hippolytus, we will see that this rhetorical topos plays a
highly significant part in the tragedy, being expressed both in its dramatic
composition and in its recurrent lexical motifs.
Hippolytus develops as a succession of misdeeds and errors – from
Hippolytus’ arrogant attacks on Aphrodite to the unjust punishment of
Hippolytus by Theseus. Each subsequent error results from the preceding
ones, and eventually they lead to the death of the two main characters,
Phaedra and Hippolytus. In depicting each of the errors, Euripides
thoroughly delineates the motivation for actions, and in each case this
motivation reproduces some elements of the rhetorical exculpatory topos.
Before proceeding to a detailed analysis of psychological motivation, I will
name the misdeeds and errors committed by the characters in the order of
their appearance in the drama:
1) Hippolytus’ attacks on Aphrodite,
2) Phaedra’s passion for Hippolytus,
3) Phaedra’s insane talk expressing her desire to be translated to a
world of wild nature associated with Hippolytus,
4) the behavior of the Nurse, who has elicited from Phaedra the secret
cause of her illness,
5) Phaedra’s confession to the Nurse of her love for Hippolytus,
6) the Nurse’s decision and subsequent attempt to bring Phaedra and
Hippolytus together,
7) Phaedra’s consent to the Nurse’s suggestion to resort to a cure for
passion,
8) Hippolytus’ attacks on women in general and on Phaedra and the
Nurse in particular,
9) Phaedra’s false accusation of Hippolytus,
10) the unjust punishment of Hippolytus by Theseus.
In each case, the characters’ conscious will is turned towards virtue and
moral good, and not a single one of these actions is dictated by ill will – the
determining attribute of deliberate wrongdoings.
6
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 7
Involuntary faults, exculpation and forgiveness
For example, it is from moral motives that Hippolytus’ impudent
attitude towards Aphrodite stems: he rejects the goddess because she is
associated in his mind with immoral behaviour. He applies to her the
epithet κακίστη, ‘the basest’ (13), indicating a negative moral assessment,
and explains his attitude to her by the fact that Aphrodite patronizes
shameful doings perpetrated in the shroud of darkness (106). The same
reason – his non-acceptance of sexual depravity – compels Hippolytus to
loathe women (616–68) and gives rise to his aggressive resentment against
Phaedra and the Nurse.
Phaedra’s entire conscious behavior is also based on her striving for
moral good. She tries through her conscious will to suppress the passion
that has overwhelmed her; she makes her confession to the Nurse, obeying
a moral feeling (αἰδώς) which demands that she pay heed to the pleas of the
supplicant; finally, it is her desire to save her moral reputation that compels
her to slander and ruin Hippolytus.
The actions of the Nurse, extorting from Phaedra the secret of her
illness and then trying to bring her mistress together with Hippolytus, are
dictated only by her φιλία – love of Phaedra, and have no other motive
(that is why she is also to be understood as pardoned, despite all the
hostility of modern critics).
Finally, Theseus in his unjust accusation and punishment is also guided
by considerations of virtue. Moral judgments play a highly significant part
in the rhetorical argumentation of his monologue (936–80), and it is they
that give him grounds for punishing his son, whom he believes to have
violated moral laws.
None of the actions is motivated by ill intentions, nor is any one of them
caused by the moral corruption of the characters. What, then, are the
causes forcing the characters to commit errors and leading them to
wrongdoings contrary to their right moral will? In depicting this negative
motivation of the characters’ actions, Euripides makes use of all the three
categories of mitigating factors widespread in exculpatory rhetoric; a single
action is normally explained by several circumstances justifying it and, on
the other hand, different actions are described by general common
patterns, which ensures the compositional integrity of the drama and
makes it possible to show these patterns as universal principles generally
governing the entirety of human behavior.
1. Ignorance or erroneous opinion
This category of mitigating factors is present in the play in various
forms – both in the form of a particular lack of knowledge of the situation
and in a more general form of erroneous moral judgment.
7
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 8
Chapter 1
1a. Moral ignorance
Here I will describe this theme, one of the most important in Hippolytus
and deserving a separate study, only in general terms; it will be discussed
in more detail in subsequent chapters.
The behavior of three characters – Hippolytus, the Nurse and Phaedra –
is to some extent determined by a similar cause, their extreme obedience
to a moral feeling (σωφροσύνη in the case of Hippolytus and Phaedra, and
φιλία in the case of the Nurse), which eventually leads them to immoral
actions. Hippolytus’ chastity and his devout veneration of Artemis bring
about his ὕβρις against Aphrodite and women; the Nurse’s love of Phaedra
compels her to act as a go-between; Phaedra’s care for her chastity and
honor ultimately takes the form of wrongful and ruinous slander against
her stepson.
All the characters commit the same common error. Their moral
principles are excessively firm (this firmness is designated by repeated
words having the meaning of moral eagerness and zeal – ἐκπονεῖν, 381, 467,
and ἀτρέκεια, 261, 1115), whereas the world around them is complex and
changeable and demands moral flexibility. The characters manifest their
generally correct moral convictions and feelings without complying with
the circumstances, the ‘right moment’ (καιρός, 386), and therefore go
wrong. The errors of all the three characters, stemming from their
excessive moral eagerness, are summed up in the third stasimon by the
Chorus that has learned from the negative example of the characters not
to have excessively firm principles and to adapt its way of thinking to
constantly changing circumstances (1115–16).
1b. Practical ignorance
Ignorance is one of the central motifs of the play, expressed both lexically,
in the constantly repeated phrase οὐκ οἶδα, ‘I do not know,’ 29 and
dramatically, in characterizing most of the situations of the drama. In the
prologue, Hippolytus does not know that the gates of Hades stand open
for him (56–7); the Chorus and the Nurse cannot for a long time guess the
actual cause of Phaedra’s illness (141–69, 267 ff.); the Nurse cannot
imagine to what her plan for saving her mistress will eventually lead;
Hippolytus does not realize that Phaedra has not even thought about
adultery (649–50); and, finally, Theseus, being abroad, does not know
about his wife’s illness (280–1), he does not know about her death when
he returns home (790–9), and, when he learns about it, he has no idea about
its actual causes (801 ff.). Awareness sometimes occurs, but each time, up
to the exodus, it is incomplete. Thus, for example, the Nurse, having
learned about the causes of Phaedra’s illness – her passion – gets the wrong
8
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 9
Involuntary faults, exculpation and forgiveness
idea about the way to cure this illness; Hippolytus, having learned about
Phaedra’s love, misinterprets her intentions; and Theseus, having learned
about Phaedra’s death, misunderstands its causes and believes the false
accusation of Hippolytus.
Ignorance motivates most of the characters’ erroneous actions. For
example, the Nurse’s persistence in trying to elicit from Phaedra the secret
of her illness is explained by the fact that she has no idea of the actual
causes of that illness and is therefore confident that her interference will be
beneficial to Phaedra. The way of curing Phaedra of her illness thought up
by the Nurse – an attempt to bring her together with Hippolytus – turns
out to be ineffective and, contrary to all of the Nurse’s expectations, shows
both herself and her mistress in a bad light, thus demonstrating her wrong
assessment of the situation. Phaedra, in her turn, agrees to take the medicine
suggested by the Nurse for the only reason that she, misguided by her
attendant, misunderstands the essence of that medicine: she believes that
the Nurse implies a magical drug for ridding her of love and not the
satisfaction of her passion through a love union with Hippolytus. Then
Hippolytus unjustly accuses Phaedra and the Nurse because he misunder-
stands their intentions and the motives of their actions, ascribing to
Phaedra a longing for adultery and to the Nurse, the role of an accomplice
in this crime. Phaedra slanders Hippolytus because she misinterprets his
plans: she is afraid that he will expose her to Theseus (689–92), not having
heard his decision to abide by his oath and keep the secret of her passion
(657–60). Finally, Theseus kills Hippolytus, having been deceived by his
wife’s letter and not knowing the actual state of affairs.
The motif of ignorance is expressed not only lexically and not only by
the structure of action and dramatic situations but also through two special
dramatic techniques. By means of these techniques Euripides particularly
highlights the factor of ignorance at the key moments of action; in addition,
employing the same technique at different moments and in different
situations, the author correlates these situations with one another, creates
an analogy between them and thus demonstrates them as examples of
actualization of a general event pattern.
The first technique is a technique of deferred recognition. The Nurse
tries to elicit Phaedra’s secret in the course of more than eighty lines
(267–353). Theseus, appearing on the orchēstra at the beginning of the third
epeisodion, immediately begins to feel that there is grief in his home (790),
yet it is only ten lines later that he is told that it is his wife who is dead
(800), after which seventy-odd lines pass before Theseus gets to read
Phaedra’s letter explaining the reasons for her suicide (874). Yet this
moment is not the final point of recognition either, because Phaedra’s letter
9
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 10
Chapter 1
does not reveal the actual cause of her death. The entire third epeisodion –
the conversation between Theseus and Hippolytus – is dramatically based
on Theseus’ unawareness of the truth, and his awareness is deferred until
the exodos.
The time intervals between the moment when the character asks the
question and the moment he obtains the final answer are filled with an
intensive search for the truth or with premature actions stemming from
ignorance or incomplete awareness (Hippolytus’ punishment by Theseus).
These time intervals determine the dramatic development of each scene
and serve as the principal means of building the dramatic tension of the
play – the tension of expectation. On the other hand, the fruitless search
for the truth preceding the learning of it is expressed through a special
dramatic technique aimed at showing how far the characters are at that
moment from knowledge of the truth. This technique consists in employing
a repeated dramatic motif of erratic wrong guesses.
In the first epeisodion, the Nurse, trying to elicit from Phaedra the
causes of her illness, makes her own guesses at what ails her mistress –
probably, it is a woman’s disease, then there are women present who can
assist her, or, if it may be spoken of to men, doctors should be called
(293–6). Both these guesses are indicative of the Nurse’s conviction that
the revelation of the secret will surely help Phaedra – a conviction that
leads her to her first error, her excessive insistence in questioning Phaedra.
The Nurse continues her guesswork further on (316 ff.): Are Phaedra’s
hands stained with blood? Has an enemy cast a spell on her? Has Theseus
done some wrong against her? Her wrong guesses, confronted with reality
that contradicts them, create a special artistic effect – that of dramatic irony.
This irony reaches culmination at the moment when the Nurse utters the
name of Hippolytus, who is the actual cause of her mistress’s misfortune;
however, it is uttered in a context emphatically at variance with the actual
state of affairs. The Nurse urges Phaedra to reveal her secret, reminding her
of the fate that otherwise awaits her children: if Phaedra persists in rejecting
the help offered to her, she will die, and then Hippolytus will be Theseus’
heir and a master to rule over her sons (304–10). Phaedra responds to the
sound of the name of her beloved with the exclamation οἴµοι, and the
Nurse once again misinterprets her feelings, believing that her argument
has made an impact on Phaedra (313–14).
The Nurse’s wrong guesses, sometimes by the irony of the situation
approximating the true state of affairs, yet at the same time remaining far
from the truth, are preceded by wrong guesses made by the Chorus earlier,
in the parodos.
Almost all the explanations of Phaedra’s illness proposed by the
10
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 11
Involuntary faults, exculpation and forgiveness
Chorus have something or other in common with reality,30 creating, like
the Nurse’s guesses, the effect of dramatic irony, which makes their
erroneousness even more conspicuous. In the second strophe of the
parodos (141–50), the Chorus sees the possible cause of Phaedra’s illness
in her being possessed by Pan, Hecate or Cybele or in madness sent on
her as a punishment by Artemis; while guessing right about the connection
of her malady with the interference of a deity, the Chorus is mistaken in
identifying that deity – so much so that it ends with a goddess that is
opposite to the actual culprit, Aphrodite. In the second antistrophe, the
Chorus in its guesses chances upon ἔρως, representing it, however, in a way
contrary to reality: the Chorus guesses that Phaedra is in anguish because
of Theseus’ infidelities (151–4). The next explanation, that Phaedra is
probably upset by bad news from her native Crete (155–60), also hints at
the actual cause of her malady (she will trace her sinful passion to the
inherited vice peculiar to her Cretan kin, 337–43), yet nonetheless is
erroneous.
The same motif of wrong guesses appears in the third epeisodion at the
moment when Theseus returns home after visiting the oracle and finds his
house in mourning. Like the Chorus and the Nurse in the first epeisodion,
Theseus begins to make guesses about the causes of the grief. Has anything
happened to old Pittheus, he asks, whose time has come to die? Then,
proceeding from the oldest to the youngest, he wonders if it is his
children’s life that he is robbed of. Having learned from the Chorus that it
is his wife who is dead, Theseus tries in vain to elicit from the Chorus and
the servants the cause of her suicide. Finally, having seen a tablet with a
letter hanging from Phaedra’s hand, Theseus is getting ready to read it; yet
even here his awareness is slow in coming and, before it comes, he manages
to make yet another wrong guess (858–9):
ἀλλ᾽ ἦ λέχους µοι καὶ τέκνων ἐπιστολὰς
ἔγραψεν ἡ δύστηνος, ἐξαιτουµένη;
Has the poor woman written me a message of entreaty about the marriage
bed and children?
Just as in the case of the guesses made by the Nurse and the Chorus,
this guess, by virtue of the author’s irony, approximates the actual state
of affairs – but not in the way Theseus expects. Phaedra’s note does
indeed contain a message of entreaty about their marriage and children,
but not in the sense assumed by Theseus: what it contains is not
instructions about the future of the children and not a request that no other
woman should take possession of the bed and house of Theseus but a
11
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 12
Chapter 1
story about how Hippolytus has dared to put his hand by force to her
marriage bed.
The main informative function which the motif of ignorance carries out
in the tragedy is the exculpative function. The exculpative meaning of
ignorance is explicitly noted in the exodos of the tragedy, where all the
accents of meaning are finally placed. Addressing Theseus, Artemis says
(1334–5): ‘Ignorance (τὸ µὴ εἰδέναι) acquits your misdoings of baseness,’
and then, repeating her opinion about Theseus’ innocence, describes his
misdeed – his unjust punishment of Hippolytus – as involuntary:
‘Involuntarily (ἄκων) you killed him’ (1433).
Artemis thus establishes a connection between ignorance, involuntariness
of the wrongdoing and exculpation – the kind of connection which we
found in judicial rhetoric and which formed the basis of the rhetorical
strategy of exculpatory speeches. Although Artemis’s words bear direct
relation only to Theseus’ action, the analogy in representing various cases
of ignorance compels one to extend this judgment to other examples and
other characters and regard ignorance in the drama as a universal
exculpatory factor.
2. Emotions
Hippolytus is often regarded as a drama of uncontrolled passion on which
reason has no hold, meaning mainly Phaedra’s ἔρως. Indeed, her passion is
represented as an involuntary emotion (πάθος 139; 363; 677; νόσος 40; 131;
176; 179; 205; 269; 279; 283; 293; 294; 394; 405; 477; 479; 512; 597; 698;
730; 766; 1306); Phaedra feels it οὐχ ἑκοῦσα, ‘not of her will’ (319, 358–9),
her entire conscious behavior is aimed at fighting her passion and
concealing it. It should be noted, however, that Phaedra’s ἔρως is not the
only emotion in the tragedy. It stands alongside other emotional
manifestations, is associated with them and performs together with them
a common exculpatory function. Examples of other emotions leading to
fatal consequences are as follows:
1) Hippolytus’ servant explains his master’s impiety towards Aphrodite
in the following way (118–19): ‘someone because of his youth has an
intense spirit (σπλάγχνον ἔντονον φέρων) and utters folly;’ the servant
therefore asks the goddess to pretend not to hear his young master (µὴ
δόκει τούτου κλύειν, 119) and be forgiving towards him (χρὴ δὲ συγγνώµην
ἔχειν, 117). σπλάγχνον is an organ associated in the psychophysiological
notions of the Greeks with emotions – above all, with anger, therefore
the servant apparently uses the words σπλάγχνον ἔντονον to designate
Hippolytus’ angriness. This characteristic describes not just a present,
instantaneous state but also a permanent trait manifesting itself through
12
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 13
Involuntary faults, exculpation and forgiveness
it, which is explained by his young age. Both the reference to his permanent
character trait and the reference to his young age have parallels in
exculpatory rhetoric. For example, in the above-cited passage from
Demosthenes’ speech Against Meidias, ‘hasty temper’ (τρόπου προπέτεια) is
named alongside its specific manifestation, anger, among mitigating factors
(21.38); in Lysias (24, 17) mention is made of leniency normally exercised
towards young men.31
It is the same boyish quick temper that prompts Hippolytus’ arrogant
attacks against women and prevents him from calmly sorting out the
situation and ascertaining the Nurse’s and Phaedra’s innocence. It is
precisely his anger that brings about Phaedra’s fear. She believes that anger
will compel Hippolytus to reveal her secret to Theseus: ‘For he, with his
mind whetted to a fine edge with anger (ὀργῇ συντεθηγµένος φρένας), will
utter against my name the wrongs you have committed,’ she says to her
Nurse (689–90) after the Nurse’s conversation with Hippolytus.
2) The fear of the Nurse (φόβος, 434), who has heard Phaedra’s
confession, plays an evil part, convincing Phaedra once again of the
harmfulness and sinfulness of her passion and affirming her intention to
commit suicide. Later on, having realized her error, the Nurse regrets her
hasty response dictated by her fear: ‘Mistress, the misfortune you told me
of gave me just now a momentary fright (φόβον)’ (433–4), and decides to
change her line of conduct for a more calm and even-minded one – not to
frighten Phaedra with her despair but to persuade her that love can be
easily endured by giving in to it.
3) The fear of Phaedra (φόβος, 572), who has heard the Nurse’s
conversation with Hippolytus, Hippolytus’ indignation and his threat to
tell Theseus of her confession of love, prevents her from correctly
interpreting his intentions and believing in his decision to keep the secret;
this fear leads her to commit suicide and to slander her stepson. In the
exodos, Artemis, telling Theseus about Phaedra’s crime against Hippolytus,
names φόβος as the main motive cause (1310–1): ‘And Phaedra, fearing
(φοβουµένη) lest she be put to the proof, wrote her false letter and destroyed
your son by deceit.’
4) Theseus’ grief when he learns about the death of his wife and his
anger (ὀργή, 900) at Hippolytus become the cause of his hasty and ill-
considered punishment of his son. That his anger deprives him of the ability
to make rational and level-headed decisions is said by the Chorus, which
advises him to get rid of this emotion (900–1): ‘Abate your harsh anger (ὀργῆς
δ᾽ ἐξανεὶς κακῆς), my lord Theseus, and think what is best for your house!’
Just as ignorance, emotions are expressed in similar ways in different
situations. Using this method, the author creates correlations and analogies
13
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 14
Chapter 1
between different manifestations of emotions, emphasizing their basic
similarity and unity.
The first of these techniques of dramatic expression of emotions is the
use of the same expressive words and phrases. Firstly, these are
interjections οἴµοι (Phaedra’s reaction to the name of Hippolytus in 310,
the Nurse’s reaction to Phaedra’s confession in 353, and the reaction of
Theseus when he read Phaedra’s posthumous letter in 874), ὤµοι and ἰώ µοι
(the fear of Phaedra and the Chorus, who hear the Nurse’s conversation
with Hippolytus, in 569 and 591; the grief of Theseus when he saw the
dead body of his wife in 817 and 844). Secondly, the similarity of all the
negative emotional responses is emphasized by the use of one and the same
verb, ἀπολέσαι/ἀπολέσθαι (‘to destroy, to kill’/ ‘to perish, to be destroyed’),
in an expressive function. ‘You have killed me, Nurse’ (ἀπώλεσάς µε, µαῖα),
Phaedra exclaims when she hears the Nurse uttering the name of
Hippolytus (311); ‘You have killed me’ (ὥς µ᾽ ἀπώλεσας), the Nurse says,
having learned of Phaedra’s love (353); Phaedra responds with the word
ἀπωλόµεσθα (‘we are destroyed’) to Hippolytus’ conversation with the Nurse
(575); Theseus utters the word ἀπώλεσεν (‘she has destroyed me!’), having
learned of Phaedra’s death (810, cf. also 839 and 846), and the same word
escapes his mouth when he reads Phaedra’s letter convincing him of
Hippolytus’ crime (ἀπὸ γὰρ ὀλόµενος οἴχοµαι, 878).
The second dramatic technique for expressing emotions is the rise in
pitch. It may be assumed that this technique found expression in the
specific features of uttering the text by actors; the text of the tragedy
informs us about it with words with the meaning of ‘cry’ and ‘shout’ – βοή
and κραυγή – describing the verbal behavior of the characters. Phaedra
expresses her fear through a cry when she hears the Nurse’s conversation
with Hippolytus (cf. the characteristic given to her utterances by the
Chorus in 571: τίνα βοᾷς λόγον ‘What is the message you cry out?’);
Hippolytus gives vent to a shout of indignation, having heard from the
Nurse her shameful proposals (ὁ τῆς φιλίππου παῖς Ἀµαζόνος βοᾷ Ἱππόλυτος
‘It is Hippolytus, son of the horse-loving Amazon, who shouts,’ 581–2); in
776–89 the Nurse and the Chorus respond with a shout to Phaedra’s death
(cf. the words of Theseus, who hears this shout, 790: γυναῖκες, ἴστε τίς ποτ᾽
ἐν δόµοις βοή; ‘Women, do you know what is the shout in the house?’);
finally, the metaphoric cry of indignation, which Theseus heard in
Phaedra’s letter (βοᾷ βοᾷ δέλτος ἄλαστα ‘The tablet cries aloud, it cries things
grievous,’ 877), is transmitted to Theseus himself (κραυγῆς ἀκούσας σῆς
ἀφικόµην, πάτερ ‘I heard your cry and came, father,’ Hippolytus says to him
in 902, entering the orchēstra).
Finally, the third technique for expressing emotions, also creating
14
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 15
Involuntary faults, exculpation and forgiveness
correlations between different scenes is the musical-rhythmic technique: at
the points of the highest emotional tension, the characters and the Chorus
switch from iambs to expressive dochmiacs. One example of such a
switchover is to be found at the beginning of the second epeisodion.
Phaedra and the Chorus exchange several iambic utterances preceding the
moment when they hear the Nurse’s talk with Hippolytus that will lead to
Phaedra’s death. While iambs are sounding, Phaedra is straining her ears to
catch each word and asking the Chorus to keep silent (565–8). Having
realized what is happening, Phaedra expresses her horror with interjections
in dochmiacs: ἰώ µοι, αἰαῖ (569); following this, her iambic utterances
alternate with dochmiacs uttered by the Chorus, to which her fear is
communicated (571–95). Dochmiacs appear twice in the third epeisodion:
first, in the lament of the Chorus and Theseus, when they see the dead
body of Phaedra (811–55), and then in conveying the fear of the Chorus
at the moment when Theseus is reading his wife’s letter (866–70) and the
horror and indignation of Theseus when he learns from the letter about the
crime allegedly committed by Hippolytus (877–80 and 882–4). Structurally,
however, two other passages of dochmiacs are the most interesting. In the
first epeisodion, having heard Phaedra’s confession of her secret passion,
the Chorus expresses its horror and despair in eleven lines of dochmiacs
(362–72). Three hundred lines later, in the middle of the second
epeisodion, Phaedra, who is in despair after the secret of her love is
revealed to Hippolytus and she hears his outraged rejection, switches to
dochmiacs. Her lament (669–79) forms a precise metric correlation with
the dochmiacs of the first epeisodion – an exceptional case of metric
correspondence at such a distance in a tragedy.32 This metrical parallelism,
emphasizing the similarity of the emotions being experienced, marks two
main turning points of the action – two main stages of learning the secret,
and, at the same time, links two scenes far apart from each other by a
common emotional atmosphere.
The motifs of ignorance and emotions function similarly in the
drama – playing a role that is both conceptual and artistic-dramatic.
Introducing them into his play as a substantial part of exculpatory
rhetorical topoi and reserving for them their main conceptual function, that
of circumstances mitigating guilt, Euripides at the same time makes use of
their artistic expressivity and uses them to create the dramatic structure of
the play.
3. External circumstances
This category of exculpatory circumstances is present in the drama in
several of its varieties.
15
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 16
Chapter 1
Persuasion (πειθώ)
Open persuasion and remonstrances in the drama yield no results: no
arguments advanced by the Nurse can force Phaedra to reveal the secret
of her illness or make her agree to a criminal liaison with Hippolytus;
similarly, all of Hippolytus’ arguments are powerless to convince
Theseus of his innocence. Persuasion through deception turns out to be
more effective. This method of persuasion related to ignorance and
misunderstanding of the situation by the person being persuaded is a
stronger exculpatory factor.
Firstly, the Nurse resorts to deception after her attempts to persuade
Phaedra to give in to her passion have failed. The Nurse obtains Phaedra’s
consent to take some medicine that can cure her of her illness; using
equivocal expressions, the Nurse pretends to be talking about a magic cure
from love, although in reality she means her intentions to convince
Hippolytus to undertake a love affair with Phaedra.
Another example of persuasion through deception is Phaedra’s letter
to Theseus in which she slandered Hippolytus and which compelled
Theseus to punish his son.
Both these cases are mentioned in the final exculpation by Artemis of
Phaedra and Theseus in the exodos (1305, 1310–2). The second case of
deception is explicitly named as an exculpatory circumstance in 1335–7:
‘Ignorance acquits your misdoings of baseness (ἐκλύει κάκης), and further
the death of your wife made impossible the testing of her words, and thus
she persuaded your mind (ὥστε σὴν πεῖσαι φρένα).’
Misfortune
The role of this exculpatory factor is shown, for example, in the above-
cited passage from Lysias’ speech Against Philon (10–3), where misfortune
(συµφορά and δυστύχηµα) is linked with the involuntary nature of an action
and is contrasted to deliberate design (γνώµη) – a distinctive feature of a
premeditated crime.
Both these words – both συµφορά and δυστύχηµα – appear quite a few
times in Hippolytus, describing practically all of its dramatic situations.
In particular, they designate the misfortune of Phaedra’s love sickness at
the opening of the drama (συµφορά in 295, 433, 596, δυστυχεῖν in 287,
δυστυχής in 343), Phaedra’s situation after her secret is revealed to
Hippolytus (συµφορά in 716), and the disaster of Theseus when he learns
of his wife’s death (δυστυχής in 807).
The role of misfortune as a cause prompting the characters to take
wrong actions is explicitly expressed in two passages. In the first epeisodion,
the Nurse explains her immoral decision to bring Phaedra together with
16
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 17
Involuntary faults, exculpation and forgiveness
Hippolytus by the misfortune (συµφορά) of her mistress (493–6): ‘If your
life were not in the grip of misfortunes like these (µὴ ᾽πι συµφοραῖς βίος
τοιαῖσδε)... I would not be leading you to this point merely for your sexual
pleasure.’
This phrase serves both as an argument prompting Phaedra to commit
adultery and as an argument defending the Nurse from accusation of giving
immoral advice – i.e., it performs an apparent exculpatory function. In the
second epeisodion, Phaedra’s disaster after she reveals her secret to
Hippolytus is shown to be the motive cause prompting her to slander her
stepson. Having thought up this dubious way of saving her honor, Phaedra
describes it as ‘a means for coping with this misfortune’ (εὕρηµα δή τι τῆσδε
συµφορᾶς, 716).
Aphrodite’s ill will
In general, it is Aphrodite’s will that is the main cause of all the events
taking place in the tragedy and, therefore, it is in a sense above all other
causes, embracing them. Giving rise to ἔρως in Phaedra’s soul (22–40) and
prompting her to reveal her secret (42), she triggers the action of the drama,
which steadily builds towards a tragic outcome. Natural weaknesses of
human nature – limited capacity for knowledge and susceptibility to
emotions – turn out to be the conditions in which this ἔρως leads the main
characters to death. Aphrodite is therefore represented both as a particular
cause of involuntary manifestations of ἔρως in individual cases (cf.
Phaedra’s words following her involuntary confessions: ‘I was mad, I fell
by the stroke of some divinity,’ 241) and as a general cause of the
misfortune befalling everyone. As early as the opening of the first
epeisodion, the Nurse, having learned of Phaedra’s passion, exclaims
(359–61): ‘Aphrodite is not after all a goddess but something even more
mighty. She has destroyed her, me, and the house.’
Subsequently, Aphrodite continues to be considered an evil principle
organizing the entire action. Following the Nurse’s utterance, the Chorus
speaks of the concurrent happening and forthcoming events of the drama
as of ‘the fortune sent by Cypris’ (τύχα Κύπριδος, 371–2); the first stasimon
is devoted to recounting mythological examples of the goddess’s harmful
power; in the exodos, Aphrodite is named as the cause of Theseus’ unjust
anger against Hippolytus and of his ill-considered and hasty punishment
(1327, 1406).
In contrast to the involuntariness of all human wrongdoings, Aphrodite’s
actions reflect her deliberate ill will. This characterizing of Aphrodite’s
actions as ἑκούσια is often expressed with words having the meaning of
wish, will and conscious decision. In the prologue, Aphrodite speaks of
17
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 18
Chapter 1
her ‘design’ (βουλεύµατα): ‘Her heart was seized with a dreadful longing by
my design (τοῖς ἐµοῖς βουλεύµασιν)’ (27–8). The Nurse, persuading Phaedra
to give in to her passion, refers to the goddess’s will: ‘Bear up under your
love: it was a god that willed (ἐβουλήθη) it’ (476). In the exodos, Artemis
also emphasizes Aphrodite’s design and will: ‘Treacherous Aphrodite
willed (ἐµήσατο) it so’ (1400), which makes it possible for her to exculpate
Theseus: ‘You have done dreadful deeds, but for all that it is still possible
for you to win pardon for these things. Aphrodite willed (ἤθελε) that things
should happen thus’ (1326–7).
Thus, the exculpation of human characters is accompanied by a transfer
of responsibility for all the misfortunes to Aphrodite. This dramatic move,
which largely determines the composition of Hippolytus, is based on the
widespread rhetorical procedure of transfer of guilt, which was termed
µετάστασις in later rhetorical treatises. It is mentioned, for example, in
Hermogenes’ technical treatise περὶ στάσεων (6.69–81), which systematizes
the topica of Athenian rhetoric, and cases of its practical application are
found more than once in texts of the classical period.33
The exculpatory topos of judicial speeches included still another motif
occupying an important place in Hippolytus – the motif of regretting an
error (µεταµέλεια). Regret setting in at the moment of clearing of
consciousness, when a person is freed of the ignorance or emotions that
have led to committing a misdeed, proved the involuntariness of his or her
actions and therefore constituted a ground for indulgence. The connection
between regret and the involuntariness of a wrongdoing is expressed,
for example, in the following passage from Lysias’ speech Against Simon
(3.42–3): ‘In the case of any persons who, designing to kill, wounded others
without being able to kill them, they [the makers of our laws] appointed the
punishment in that degree of severity, judging it meet that where they had
shown design and premeditation (ἐβούλευσαν καὶ προὐνοήθησαν) they should
pay the penalty... And in this way you have decided, many a time in the
past, on this point of premeditation. Extraordinary, indeed, it would be, if
in all cases of wounds received through some drunken rivalry, or game, or
abuse, or in a fight for a mistress, – affairs which everyone regrets on better
consideration (ὧν, ἐπειδὰν βέλτιον φρονήσωσιν, ἅπασι µεταµέλει), – you are to
inflict a punishment of such awful severity as that of expelling any of our
citizens from their native land.’ Aristotle in Nicomachean Ethics also regards
regret as a criterion of involuntary actions: ‘An act done through ignorance
is...involuntary only when it causes the agent pain and regret’ (ἀκούσιον δὲ
τὸ ἐπίλυπον καὶ ἐν µεταµελείᾳ)’ (EN 1110b18–20).
The motif of regret has been introduced into the play alongside
other elements of the exculpatory topos and, like them, it has become a
18
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 19
Involuntary faults, exculpation and forgiveness
recurrent dramatic motif. Phaedra regrets when she comes to her senses
after her delirious speeches revealing her passion (δύστηνος ἐγώ, τί ποτ’
εἰργασάµην; ‘Dear luckless me, what have I done?’ 239); the Nurse regrets
her first ill-considered reaction to Phaedra’s confession – a reaction that
made her mistress even more confident in her intention to commit
suicide (νῦν δ’ ἐννοοῦµαι φαῦλος οὖσα, ‘Yet now I realize that I was
being foolish’ 435–6); Phaedra regrets that she, having given in to the
Nurse’s blandishments, revealed her secret to her (380–7). The connection
between regret and indulgence is summed up in the final scene where
Theseus’ regret about his ill-considered punishment of his son, ὡς µήποτ᾽
ἐλθεῖν ὤφελ᾽ ἐς τοὐµὸν στόµα ‘Would they [the words of cursing Hippolytus]
had never come into my mouth!’ (1412), is followed by forgiveness granted
him by Hippolytus. The Chorus warned Theseus about this belated regret,
trying to dissuade him from his hasty decision to punish Hippolytus:
γνώσῃ γὰρ αὖθις ἀµπλακών ‘You will learn in time that you have made a
mistake’ (892).
Thus, motifs related to exculpatory rhetoric occupy a highly important
place in the thematic structure of Hippolytus. Euripides more than once
used them in his other dramas as well.34 In Hippolytus, however, unlike in
other dramas, they do not act as an individual argument but they are at the
center of the play’s thematic structure, expressing the author’s conceptual
assessment of the events being represented. In each of the characters’
actions, mitigating circumstances are singled out and emphasized. These
circumstances similarly manifest themselves in different situations, which
makes it possible to generalize them and derive a consistent pattern from
them: the world of Hippolytus is governed by the evil will of the gods and
natural human weaknesses; it is impossible not to make errors in it, and all
errors are excusable. This view of the artistic reality created by Euripides
is not original. It has long been summarized by Hathorn as a view of
‘irrationalist’ critics: ‘These misdeeds are themselves [i.e., even leaving out
of consideration the role played in the plot by the gods] manifestations of
numinous forces; they result either from passion or from ignorance...
Therefore considerations of will and intellect have no place in an
explanation of Euripides’ story; it is a tale solely of natural, god-given,
uncontrollable passion.’35
Rejecting this view as morally senseless, Hathorn instead advances
his idea of responsibility for errors dictated by criminal premeditated
ignorance – an idea contradicting the entire essence of the exculpatory
rhetorical topica used by Euripides.
The ‘irrational’ view described by Hathorn, however, is morally senseless
only if we do not consider the moral sense carried by still another major
19
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 20
Chapter 1
element of the thematic complex involving involuntary errors – the motif
of indulgence and pardon (συγγνώµη).
This motif appears in passing at the turning point of the action, when
the news of Phaedra’s love is conveyed from female to male characters –
when the secret becomes known to Hippolytus and he is ready to tell
Theseus about it. At that time the Nurse is asking for his forgiveness:
σύγγνωθ᾽· ἁµαρτεῖν εἰκὸς ἀνθρώπους, τέκνον ‘Forgive! To err is mankind᾽s lot,
my son!’ (615). What is even more important, however, is that this motif
frames the entire drama. It appears in the last utterance of the prologue
(χρὴ δὲ συγγνώµην ἔχειν ‘You should be forgiving’, 117) addressed by the old
servant of Hippolytus to Aphrodite and expressing the right view of
Hippolytus’ behavior, and it constitutes the main content of the exodos.
In the exodos, exculpation is first explicitly shown in Artemis’ speech as a
logical consequence of the involuntariness of errors (1325–6), which
reproduces the logic of exculpatory argumentation in rhetoric, and then is
vividly played out on the orchēstra in the scene of Hippolytus’ forgiveness
of Theseus. This scene dramatically expresses the outcome to which the
entire complex of motifs of ignorance, emotions and involuntary
wrongdoings leads – the need for indulgence.
It is, however, only at the end of the play that the characters approach
this outcome, and the final indulgence contrasts with their attitude towards
one another throughout the entire action. The main motif describing this
attitude is the motif of condemnation expressed with the word κακός, ‘base.’
In the Greek language, this word may be applied both to a person and his
or her actions and to the circumstances of human existence; in the former
case it has the ‘active’ meaning of wrong-doer or wrongdoing, while in the
latter case it receives the ‘passive’ meaning, denoting disaster and
misfortune. In practically every situation, all the characters use this word
in its ‘active’ accusatory meaning against one another. The Nurse, having
learned of Phaedra’s love, immediately condemns this feeling, even though
she emphasizes the duality of the position of her mistress, whose passion
is involuntary:
οἱ σώφρονες γὰρ οὐχ ἑκόντες, ἀλλ᾽ ὅµως
κακῶν ἐρῶσι.
For the chaste – they do not will it but yet ᾽tis so – desire what is bad. (358–9)
Then Hippolytus, having heard the Nurse’s proposal, applies this word to
the Nurse herself, to Phaedra and to all women in general (589, 608, 616,
627, 642, twice in 649, 651, 666; cf. κακύνοµαι, 686 – Phaedra on the
condemnation passed on her by Hippolytus). After the Nurse’s
conversation with Hippolytus, Phaedra in her turn accuses the Nurse:
20
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 21
Involuntary faults, exculpation and forgiveness
‘O most evil one (παγκακίστη) and destroyer of your friends, see what you
have done to me!’ (682; cf. also 707). Finally, the scene of an agon between
Theseus and Hippolytus is overfilled with undeserved accusations brought
by the father against his son (942, 945, 949, 959, 980, 1069, 1071, 1075,
1077).
In contrast to this usage of κακός is its usage in the ‘passive’ meaning
(τὰ κακά in the meaning of misfortune), frequently uttered by the Chorus
(368, 528, 591, 714, 805, 811, 834, 851, 867), and also by the characters
when they speak about their own situation (Phaedra in 668, 679, 729,
Theseus in 818, 822, 874, 878, Hippolytus in 1079). Sometimes Euripides
plays upon the ambivalence of the word: for example, when the Nurse
answers the accusation thrown at her by Phaedra after her conversation
with Hippolytus, she says: δέσποιν᾽, ἔχεις µὲν τἀµὰ µέµψασθαι κακά ‘Mistress,
you can, to be sure, find fault with my κακά’ (695), both meaning her failure
(κακά in the ‘passive’ meaning) and, at the same time, referring to Phaedra’s
words (κακά in the active meaning of ‘wrongdoing’; cf. Phaedra’s utterance
addressed to her, ὦ παγκακίστη, in 682).
Worthy of note are the cases where Euripides brings together the
opposite usages of κακός. For example, in response to Hippolytus’
accusation against women, ἀεὶ γὰρ οὖν πώς εἰσι κἀκεῖναι κακαί ‘They too are
always evil’ (666), Phaedra says: τάλανες ὦ κακοτυχεῖς γυναικῶν πότµοι
‘Ο, how luckless, how ill-starred, is the fate of women’ (669). Theseus’
accusation against Hippolytus, τὸ δ᾽ ἔργον οὐ λέγον σε µηνύει κακόν ‘the facts
with mute eloquence show you are base’ (1077), is followed by Hippolytus’
utterance, οἷα πάσχοµεν κακά ‘misfortunes that I am suffering’ (1079); the
correlation between the accusatory κακός in Theseus’ phrase and
Hippolytus’ exculpatory κακά is emphasized by placing both words at the
end of the line.
The two meanings of κακός are played upon as well in Artemis’s speech
in the exodos. Forming the dynamics of this speech is a transition from
Theseus’ accusation to his exculpation, which is reflected in a switchover
from the active meaning of the word κακός to its passive meaning.
It appears in Artemis’s very first iambic line addressed to Theseus: ἄκουε,
Θησεῦ, σῶν κακῶν κατάστασιν ‘Hear, Theseus, about your κακά’ (1296); in this
passage, κακά combines two meanings at once – that of the misfortune
which has befallen Theseus and of the crime of which he is guilty. Artemis
then pronounces an accusatory speech (1296–1324), twice emphasizing
Theseus’ guilt with the word κακός: ὦ κάκιστε σύ ‘You base man’ (1316) and
σὺ δ᾽ ἔν τ᾽ ἐκείνῳ κἀν ἐµοὶ φαίνῃ κακός ‘But in his sight and in mine you are
proved base’ (1320). Artemis’s speech, however, ends in an exculpatory
passage with an emphatic transition from the accusatory active to the
21
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 22
Chapter 1
exculpatory passive meaning of κακός: the goddess frees Theseus from guilt
(τὴν δὲ σὴν ἁµαρτίαν / τὸ µὴ εἰδέναι µὲν πρῶτον ἐκλύει κάκης ‘Ignorance acquits
your misdoings of baseness’ 1334–5) and stresses that what has happened
to him is a misfortune and not a crime (µάλιστα µέν νυν σοὶ τάδ᾽ ἔρρωγεν κακά
‘Chiefly upon you do these misfortunes break’, 1338).
The movement of Artemis’s speech coincides with the main thematic
movement of the entire drama – from the initial condemnation to the final
exculpation. The only character actually deserving condemnation is
Aphrodite whose evil will was the main cause of all the misfortunes. Her
assessment, also expressed with the word κακός, frames the entire drama,
appearing at the beginning of the prologue and in the last lines of the
exodos; while at the beginning of the tragedy she herself represents her
accusation by Hippolytus as a criminal ὕβρις (λέγει κακίστην δαιµόνων πεφυκέναι
‘[Hippolytus] says that I am the basest of divinities, 13), the entire course
of the action convinces one of the justness of the goddess’s accusation,
which is summed up by Theseus’ last utterance: ὡς πολλά, Κύπρι, σῶν κακῶν
µεµνήσοµαι ‘how well I shall remember, Aphrodite, your evils’ (1461).
Thus, mutual accusations between the characters in the drama turn out
to be erroneous and contradicting the actual meaning of events, according
to which humans are victims of misfortunes and not culprits of crimes,
and these mutual accusations are resolved by Hippolytus’ final exculpation
and forgiveness of Theseus. However, condemnation and unwillingness
to forgive wrongdoings are not only erroneous: they are also ruinous, for
it is they that determine the overall movement of the action towards the
tragic conclusion. Condemnation by the Nurse of Phaedra’s passion (359)
confirms Phaedra’s intention to commit suicide (401); this decision of hers
is affirmed even more strongly because of the general condemnatory
attitude towards women (407), which is expressed later in Hippolytus’
accusatory speech against women. Phaedra’s condemnation by Hippolytus
finally leads her to death, giving rise in her to a desire to destroy Hippolytus
as well. Finally, the unjust and hasty condemnation of Hippolytus by
Theseus brings the drama to its tragic end.
The main example of fatal condemnation and unforgiveness is
Aphrodite’s vengeance on Hippolytus. The goddess’s reluctance to heed
the entreaty for indulgence addressed to her by Hippolytus’ servant
is the root and source of all the misfortunes. In addition, Aphrodite’s
condemnation and vengeance, unlike all cases of human condemnation,
are criminal, since they cannot be justified by her weakness and are only
explained by her deliberate evil intentions.
Thus, we can see that the themes of condemnation and exculpation
determine the entire composition of the play. Its action starts from
22
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 23
Involuntary faults, exculpation and forgiveness
Aphrodite’s reluctance to forgive Hippolytus, is made up of a series of
individual cases of unjust and erroneous condemnation, and ends in final
exculpation and forgiveness. It may be assumed that the aim of constructing
the tragedy in this way is to make the spectators themselves traverse the
path from condemnation to understanding and pardon. At first, the
spectators see the events through the eyes of Aphrodite, who opens the
tragedy with her lengthy monologue. In that speech, the conduct of the
main character is depicted as criminal, and he is represented as deserving
of retribution. This attitude is conveyed to the spectators, who are quite
familiar with the plot move from ὕβρις to an inevitable punishment
for it – a move underlying, for example, the plot of Sophocles’ Ajax. The
further development of the prologue, however, reveals the ambiguousness
of Hippolytus’ conduct, which combines ὕβρις against Aphrodite with
devotion towards Artemis, and the servant’s words concluding the
prologue bring Aphrodite’s stand into a clash with an opposite view – the
possibility of recognizing Hippolytus’ sin as involuntary and therefore of
forgiving it. These two opposite attitudes towards human misdeeds are
then verified by all the subsequent events of the tragedy. Each dramatic
situation of the tragedy includes a wrongdoing committed by one of the
characters and his or her condemnation by another character, and in each
case the involuntariness of the wrongdoing and the erroneousness and
harmfulness of condemnation are emphasized. Artemis in her speech
opening the exodos also brings the spectators along the path from
condemnation to exculpation: having started with condemnation of
Theseus, she then recalls mitigating circumstances and finishes her speech
with exculpation of his action. Exculpation and forgiveness finally triumph
in the concluding scene of Theseus’ conversation with the dying Hippolytus.
Forgiveness with its legal associations – exoneration, exculpatory factors
and involuntary faults – appears to be the main moral theme of Hippolytus.
This combination of moral and legal aspects vividly demonstrates the
fundamental difference between the classical view of legal justification and
present-day concepts.
To us, legal justification is the inevitable result of objective facts
proving the absence of guilt or mitigating it. In classical times, on the
other hand, an act of justification acquired a moral meaning, since it
did not automatically follow from the circumstances of a misdeed, but it
depended on the subjective assessment of these circumstances. One and
the same misdeed might be regarded both as voluntary and dictated by
deliberate evil intentions and represented as more or less involuntary,
viewing it as the result of the action of various factors mitigating guilt.
From the ancients’ standpoint, one view of a misdeed or another,
23
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 24
Chapter 1
more stringent or more lenient, was determined by the moral qualities of
a judge.
These subjective moral qualities that make it possible to exculpate the
guilty, taking mitigating circumstances into account, are more than once
mentioned in judicial speeches in which the accused plead for indulgence,
appealing to the kindness (ἐπιείκεια) of judges,36 whereas prosecutors call on
judges to abstain from ἐπιείκεια in making their decisions. The connection
between viewing a misdeed as involuntary and the subjective trait of judges,
their ἐπιείκεια, can be clearly seen in Cleon’s speech against the Mytilenaeans
reported by Thucydides. Cleon states that the actions of the Mytilenaeans,
whom he is accusing, were deliberate and they therefore do not deserve
exculpation; to exculpate them, having recognized their crime as
involuntary, would be an error resulting from ἐπιείκεια – a quality which
the orator considers to be harmful to the authority:
Their offence was not involuntary, but of malice and deliberate (ἄκοντες
µὲν γὰρ οὐκ ἔβλαψαν, εἰδότες δὲ ἐπεβούλευσαν); and pardon is only for
unwilling offenders (ξύγγνωµον δ᾽ ἐστὶ τὸ ἀκούσιον). I therefore now as
before persist against...your giving way to the three failings most fatal to
empire – pity, pleasure derived from eloquence, and kindness (οἴκτῳ καὶ
ἡδονῇ λόγων καὶ ἐπιεικείᾳ). (3.40.1–2)
Unlike present-day objective exculpation, such a subjective exculpation
based on ἐπιείκεια is represented not as identical to justice (δίκη) but is
normally contrasted with it. For example, in Isocrates’ speech Against
Callimachus, the prosecutor asks the judges to be guided by considerations
of justice and not ἐπιείκεια in passing their judgment:
If you render an unjust (ἀδίκως) verdict in this case, you will be violating not
only the laws of the city, but also the laws common to all men.
Consequently, it is not fitting that your votes should be based upon favor,
or upon kindness (κατ᾽ ἐπιείκειαν), nor upon anything else than upon the
oaths you took. (34)
We also find the antithesis of justice and justification in Euripides – in a
fragment from his tragedy Polyidus (fr. 645), which is very close in its theme
to Hippolytus. The character asks the gods to forgive human misdeeds
(breach of oath) where they are caused by necessity and are therefore
involuntary, being guided not by justice but by ἐπιείκεια, which is
represented as a quality that is superior to and wiser than justice:
συγγνώµονάς τοι τοὺς θεοὺς εἶναι δόκει,
ὅταν τις ὅρκῳ θάνατον ἐκφυγεῖν θέλῃ
ἢ δεσµὸν ἢ βίαια πολεµίων κακά,
ἢ παισὶν αὐθένταισι κοινωνῇ δόµων.
24
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 25
Involuntary faults, exculpation and forgiveness
ἤ τἄρα θνητῶν εἰσιν ἀσυνετώτεροι
ἢ τἀπιεικῆ πρόσθεν ἡγοῦνται δίκης.
It seems that the gods should be forgiving, if someone makes a vow in order
to escape death, or prison, or violence from enemies, or shares home with
children who are murderers: for either the gods must be more stupid than
mortals, or they place kindness above justice.37
This quality, ἐπιείκεια, even though not directly named in the text of
Hippolytus, is implicitly present in the entire tragedy. Aphrodite’s punishment
of Hippolytus is just, as is Athena’s punishment of Ajax; however, a
different law demanding an indulgent attitude, an ability to see circumstances
behind misdeeds motivating them and mitigating guilt, an ability to justify
and forgive is wiser than justice. This attitude is possible if the judges
assessing an action possess this quality, ἐπιείκεια.
The concept of ἐπιείκεια, implicated in the tragedy, crowns the entire
thematic complex of forced errors and exculpation adopted by Euripides
from judicial rhetoric. Hippolytus, however, is distinguished from judicial
speeches by a shift of the logical accent. In rhetoric, it is the exculpation of
the accused which is the logical ‘rheme’ – that which has to be proven, and
an appeal to judges’ moral qualities, which are presumed to be present in
them, acts as an argument in this proof. Euripides in Hippolytus follows a
logical path in the opposite direction. Emphasizing the involuntariness of
his characters’ errors and showing exculpation to be the necessary and
wisest attitude, he makes this quality, ἐπιείκεια, not directly named in the
tragedy, its logical ‘rheme,’ awakening it in the main arbiters of the events
unfolding in the drama – its audience.
25
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 26
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 27
2
SPEECH AND VISION
In his article ‘The Hippolytus of Euripides’ Bernard Knox demonstrated
the important role played in the play by the motif of speech.38 As Knox
rightly noted, the artistic and conceptual unity of the drama is achieved
not through the unity of character, since its four principal characters
occupy an approximately equal place in it, but through the unity of the
patterns governing the behavior of all the characters and describing all the
dramatic situations. Underlying these patterns are largely motifs of speech
and silence. Each of the characters in each situation is faced with a choice
between the alternatives of speech and silence, and quite often this choice
is for them, at the same time, a moral choice. For example, for Phaedra in
the first epeisodion, for the Nurse in the second and for Hippolytus in the
third keeping silent is tantamount to a moral action, and speaking to an
immoral action. Their behavior can vacillate between the two alternatives:
Phaedra chooses first silence then speech; Hippolytus speech then silence;
the Chorus silence; and Theseus speech. However, the feature equally
inherent in all of them is the final determinateness of their speech behavior,
which Knox views as a metaphorical expression of determinateness and,
therefore, futility of moral choice, and a form of representing the absence
of free will. In the play, speech, a specific faculty of man that distinguishes
him from animals, turns out to be ‘an explosive force which, once released,
cannot be restrained and creates universal destruction.’ 39
The determinateness of the characters’ speech behavior in Hippolytus
about which Knox wrote is directly connected with the exculpatory
conception of the tragedy. All the transgressions and errors in general
committed by the characters are committed in words and all of them are
explained by main exculpatory factors – ignorance or emotions or external
causes. The essence of Hippolytus’ crime is comprised of his speeches: the
hero’s impudence is represented as mainly verbal (see 13; 99), and his
insults are explained, as we saw in the first chapter, by emotions – his
youthful hot temper (118–19). Phaedra’s mistake is her confession to the
Nurse – that is, again words, uttered unwillingly, which the Nurse forced
out of her by persistent requests. The Nurse’s transgression also consisted
in words – in her conversation with Hippolytus; she ventured upon this
27
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 28
Chapter 2
step being impelled by the best intentions to save her beloved mistress
from death and having no idea where this might lead. It was her words
that proved to be fateful, having aroused furious indignation in Hippolytus.
The next mistake was committed by Hippolytus when he uttered his
inflamed monologue against women and threatened to reveal everything to
Theseus. This mistake is explained by emotions; the threat was put into
words but never into deeds, yet it proved to be sufficient to arouse fear in
Phaedra and make her decide to destroy her stepson. Yet another mistake
made by Hippolytus was his oath of silence given to the Nurse; it was
also a speech, which was uttered in ignorance, and it later on prevented
him from clearing himself in the eyes of Theseus. Phaedra’s main
transgression – her false accusation of Hippolytus – was again mere words;
this crime was caused by her fear and her misconception of chastity and
shame – that is, by ignorance. Finally, Theseus’ curse, which destroyed
Hippolytus, was also words only, and these words were uttered in despair,
anger and ignorance.
Thus, speeches appear in fact identical to unintentional erroneous actions
determined by emotions and ignorance. Extremely important, however, is
still another aspect of this motif also linking it with exculpatory factors:
speeches not only follow from emotions and ignorance but themselves
give rise to them, becoming the causes of other, subsequent errors.
The emotional impact of the uttered words on the character hearing
them is emphasized in the drama more than once. Thus, for example, in the
first epeisodion a single word, the name of Hippolytus, touches Phaedra
so much that it makes her break her silence with the exclamation οἴµοι
‘Oh pain!’ (310) and then enter into an unnecessary dialogue with the
Nurse. Then, the speech of Phaedra herself – her words about her love
for Hippolytus – throws the Nurse and the Chorus into terror; the link
between emotion and the words heard is particularly noted in the Nurse’s
responding phrase combining expressive words with the motif of speech:
οἴµοι, τί λέξεις, τέκνον; ὥς µ᾽ ἀπώλεσας ‘Ah, what can you mean, my child?
This is my death!’ (353). In the second epeisodion, Phaedra falls into
despair, having heard the Nurse’s conversation with Hippolytus. In this
scene, the expression of emotions is again combined with the motif of
speech heard. Straining her ears to hear the voices inside the house,
Phaedra says, addressing the Chorus: ἐπίσχετ᾽, αὐδὴν τῶν ἔσωθεν ἐκµάθω
‘Be still! Let me hear the voice of those within’ (567), and in her next phrase
responds to the conversation that she hears with the exclamation: ἰώ µοι,
αἰαῖ ‘Oh, alas, alas!’ (569). The link between the terror enveloping the
heroine and the speech heard from within the house is explicated in the
response of the Chorus (573–4):
28
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 29
Speech and vision
ἔνεπε, τίς φοβεῖ σε φήµα, γύναι,
φρένας ἐπίσσυτος;
Tell us what report is it that affrights you, rushing upon your heart.
At the next moment, when Hippolytus and the Nurse rush onto the stage,
we see with our own eyes still another emotional reaction to words –
rage into which Hippolytus was thrown by the Nurse’s words. Finally,
in the third epeisodion, Theseus responds with rage, now turned against
Hippolytus, to Phaedra’s posthumous note containing an accusation
against his son.
Just as they are linked with emotions, words are similarly linked with
ignorance. Twice in the tragedy words deceive, leading to a wrong idea
about the situation and to erroneous actions. Firstly, such are the
Nurse’s ambiguous words (507–15) deceiving Phaedra and persuading
her to agree to use the medicine for her malady suggested by the Nurse,40
and, secondly, such is Phaedra’s note that Theseus accepted as proof of
Hippolytus’ guilt.
Thus, words in Hippolytus both give rise to emotions and proceed from
emotions, both lead to ignorance and proceed from it. Moreover, quite a
few situations develop according to the pattern ‘speech – ignorance – new
speech’ or ‘speech – emotions – new speech,’ so that some speeches, as a
result of emotions and ignorance brought about by them, give rise to other
speeches, and together they all intertwine into a single net ruining the
heroes. Phaedra’s deception compels Theseus to believe in his son’s
guilt – and utter a curse on him and a prayer to Poseidon, asking the god
to kill his son. In the first epeisodion, the Nurse utters the name of
Hippolytus – which throws Phaedra into despair – and forces her to
break her silence and begin speaking. Phaedra confesses her love for her
stepson – the Nurse and the Chorus are struck with terror by the news –
and utter words persuading her of the need to commit suicide. The Nurse
tells Hippolytus of her mistress’s love – Hippolytus is indignant – and
expresses his indignation with words prompting Phaedra to commit a
crime and suicide. The link between earlier words that have been heard
and new words now being uttered is explicated at this moment in
Hippolytus’ phrase (604): οὐκ ἔστ᾽ ἀκούσας δείν᾽ ὅπως σιγήσοµαι ‘I have heard
dread things: I cannot now be silent.’
Phaedra hears the words uttered by Hippolytus – falls into despair –
and ruins her stepson with new words, slandering him in her suicide note.
According to Phaedra’s figurative expression, her ‘new words’ (cf. ἀλλὰ δεῖ
µε δὴ καινῶν λόγων ‘Now I need new words,’ 688) should undo the knot
created around her by words (670–1):
29
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 30
Chapter 2
τίνας νῦν τέχνας ἔχοµεν ἢ λόγους
σφαλεῖσαι κάθαµµα λύειν λόγου;
What arts do we have now, what speech that can undo the knot our words
have created?
The same pattern continues to operate in the third epeisodion: Theseus
reads words written by Phaedra – they throw him into fury – and he
condemns Hippolytus to death with new words, his request to Poseidon.
In addition to the important role that this interaction between words
and emotions plays in the plot, it performs a major function in the rhythmic
organization of the play. If we look at the movement of the drama from the
beginning of the first epeisodion – the moment of Phaedra’s entrance onto
the orchēstra, we will see stepwise development of action. In each scene,
dramatic tension slowly accumulates at first and then it suddenly and
swiftly explodes, leading to an abrupt change in the situation. It is precisely
the moments of uttering the words triggering emotions that are the points
at which these explosions occur. After verse 250, Phaedra remains silent
and the Nurse tries in vain to make her speak. The Nurse’s fruitless
attempts stretched over sixty verses build up the tension, which resolves
into the suddenly uttered name of Hippolytus and Phaedra’s responding
exclamation. At this moment, the dramatic situation changes: Phaedra
enters into a dialogue. The heroine’s reluctance to reveal her secret creates
a new tension; this tension accumulates over forty-odd verses until the
name of Hippolytus, her love for whom the heroine confesses, is brought
up again (350–2):
(Τρ.) τί φῄς; ἐρᾷς, ὦ τέκνον; ἀνθρώπων τίνος;
(Φα.) ὅστις ποθ᾽ οὗτός ἐσθ᾽, ὁ τῆς Ἀµαζόνος,
(Τρ.) Ἱππόλυτον αὐδᾷς; (Φα.) σοῦ τάδ᾽, οὐκ ἐµοῦ κλύεις.
Nurse: What, are you in love, my child? Who’s the man?
Phaedra: Whatever his name is, son of the Amazon...
Nurse: You mean Hippolytus?
Phaedra: Yours are the words, not mine.
Now there follows a new emotional outburst, and the situation changes
once again: the Nurse’s fruitless attempts to persuade Phaedra to give in to
her love will be the theme of the next slow-moving scene and the cause of
new tension. This long scene of an agon between Phaedra and the Nurse,
taking up more than one hundred and fifty verses, ends in a sudden and
swift double movement of speech at a culmination point at the beginning
of the second epeisodion where the Nurse’s words provoke the indignation
of Hippolytus, whose fury, in turn, throws Phaedra into despair.
30
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 31
Speech and vision
The limitations that scenic conventions place on the author – the
impossibility of showing the audience the conversation taking place within
the house – compel him to convey the Nurse’s dialogue with Hippolytus
first through retelling it by Phaedra, which enables Euripides to create a
special dramatic effect. The author achieves an impression of simultaneity
of three dramatic situations: at one and the same time, Hippolytus responds
to the Nurse’s speeches, Phaedra to Hippolytus’ words, and the Chorus
to Phaedra’s phrases. The effect of several voices sounding simultaneously
is enhanced by, as it were, inserting musical dynamic nuances (throughout
the entire scene, the characters keep ‘shouting’ or ‘crying out’ – cf. βοᾶν in
571, 581, 588) and, thanks to this tutti and forte sound, these scenes take on
the character of emotional climax in the play. The emotional climax
coincides here with the plot climax. This is the turning point in the drama,
for the news of Phaedra’s passion now goes beyond the circle of female
characters sympathizing with her, and that ultimately affirms the heroine’s
decision to commit suicide and leads her to the idea of ruining Hippolytus;
thus, it is precisely from this point that threads run to the events
constituting the two resolutions of the tragedy.
The next scene of the second epeisodion, in which Phaedra accuses the
Nurse and finds a way out of the situation in which she has found herself,
is a dramatic consequence of the first climax scenes and leads to the first
resolution – the heroine’s suicide. Further on, at the beginning of the third
epeisodion, a new wave of tension begins to accumulate: Theseus appears
on the orchēstra and gradually, over the duration of eighty-six verses, learns
about his wife’s suicide and its alleged cause. The point towards which this
slowly developing scene is moving is again marked by words triggering
extreme emotions – the reading of Phaedra’s note, throwing the hero into
despair and furious rage (877–8):
βοᾷ βοᾷ δέλτος ἄλαστα. πᾷ φύγω
βάρος κακῶν; ἀπὸ γὰρ ὀλόµενος οἴχοµαι
The tablet cries aloud, it cries things grievous. How shall I escape from the
weight of my misfortunes? For I am utterly undone.
This last emotional explosion leads to a new change in the situation
(Theseus curses his son) and the second resolution – Hippolytus’
death.
Thus, speeches are connected with exculpatory factors by a dual link.
On the one hand, they are represented as actions justified by ignorance
and emotions by which they are always determined. At the same time, they
themselves give rise to ignorance and emotions, lead to new involuntary
faults and thus become an exculpatory factor.
31
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 32
Chapter 2
The Greeks regarded speech as one of the main features distinguishing
man and determining his place in the world. In the world of Hippolytus, this
major human capability turns out to be a powerful negative force not
depending on human will, invariably causing errors and faults and inevitably
leading to a tragic resolution. As a matter of fact, mistrust of speech, doubt
about the possibility of conveying truth by means of words and awareness
of the deceitfulness of speech are quite characteristic for 5th-century BC
culture and literature, in which we often come across an opposition of
‘words’ and ‘deeds,’ i.e., deceitful speech and true reality. If the true notion
of reality cannot be obtained by means of words, man has still another
capability traditionally associated with correct comprehension of reality
and opposed to words – the capability of visual perception. In Hippolytus,
vision turns out to be still another key motif, which develops in parallel
and in constant juxtaposition with the motif of words.
The characters share the common conviction that visual perception and
direct visual contact are sure to give true knowledge.41 The contraposition
of vision that reveals truth and deceptive speech behavior is to be found,
for example, in the dialogue between the Nurse and the Chorus at the
beginning of the first epeisodion. When the Nurse tells the Chorus about
how Phaedra conceals her illness from her husband, pretending in words
to be healthy (κρύπτει γὰρ ἥδε πῆµα κοὔ φησιν νοσεῖν ‘She hides her calamity
and denies she’s ill,’ 279), the Chorus responds with the question (280):
ὁ δ᾽ ἐς πρόσωπον οὐ τεκµαίρεται βλέπων ‘Can he not guess by looking on her
face?’ – believing that a look into the heroine’s face, in contrast to words,
is sure to reveal her actual state.
The other side of visual contact, a lying wife’s look into the face of her
husband, is also mentioned more than once in the drama, in contexts
stressing the impossibility of concealing truth, as well as the impudence of
such an overt lie. For example, Phaedra wonders how unfaithful wives
cheating their husbands and pretending in words to be chaste (τὰς σώφρονας
ἐν λόγοις, 413) can look into the eyes of their husbands (415–16):
αἳ πῶς ποτ᾽, ὦ δέσποινα ποντία Κύπρι,
βλέπουσιν ἐς πρόσωπα τῶν ξυνευνετῶν;
How, o Aphrodite, Lady of the Sea, how can these women look into the
faces of their husbands?
Hippolytus, who promises to keep silent about Phaedra’s love for him,
concealing it in words (σῖγα δ᾽ ἕξοµεν στόµα ‘I shall hold my tongue,’ 660),
at the same time wonders how the Nurse and Phaedra will be able to look
into Theseus’ eyes (661–2):
32
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 33
Speech and vision
θεάσοµαι δὲ σὺν πατρὸς µολὼν ποδὶ
πῶς νιν προσόψῃ καὶ σὺ καὶ δέσποινα σή.
But I shall return with my father and then see how you look upon him, you
and your mistress.
Finally, Phaedra decides to commit suicide, for in the situation where she
may be caught in adultery she does not want to face her husband (720–1):
οὐδ᾽ ἐς πρόσωπον Θησέως ἀφίξοµαι
αἰσχροῖς ἐπ ἔργοις οὕνεκα ψυχῆς µιᾶς.
Nor shall I go to face Theseus with shameful deeds charged against me if
only one life42 stands in the way.
The motif of an unfaithful wife’s visual contact with the deceived husband,
threaded throughout the entire tragedy, acquires an unexpected and
paradoxical sound in its resolution. Thanks to her death, Phaedra actually
avoided the need to look into Theseus’ eyes but did not avoid a look by
Theseus himself. Theseus’ encounter with the dead Phaedra occurs at the
beginning of the third epeisodion, when the doors of the house open and
Theseus sees the body of his wife. This encounter, however, does not
reveal the truth; on the contrary, Theseus’ excessive conviction of the
evidential value of vision leads him to an error.43 He perceives what he
sees – Phaedra’s death – as a ‘deed,’ as true reality, contrasting it to what
he hears, ‘words’ uttered by Hippolytus in an attempt to prove his
innocence. Phaedra’s body, which Theseus sees, compels him to believe his
wife but not his son; as he himself says to Hippolytus (971–2): τί ταῦτα σοῖς
ἁµιλλῶµαι λόγοις / νεκροῦ παρόντος µάρτυρος σαφεστάτου; ‘Why do I wage this
contest against your speech when this corpse, witness most reliable, lies
near?’ In this situation, however, words are true, while the visible evidence
on which Theseus relies serves deception. Thus, the development of events
removes the initial opposition of speech and vision: vision turns out to be
as deceptive as false speeches.
The analyzed example shows a connection of vision with ignorance or
with a wrong understanding of the situation. In addition, vision, just like
speech, is associated in the drama with another exculpatory factor –
emotions.44 We find the most evident case of such association at the very
same beginning of the third epeisodion, where Theseus sees Phaedra’s
body and then reads her note; in these scenes, parallelism between vision
and heard speech is particularly evident.
Appearing in front of his house, which is plunged into mourning,
Theseus asks about the cause of the grief and learns about it first from the
Chorus’ words. The news throws the hero into despair, which is conveyed
33
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 34
Chapter 2
by expressive constructions and interjections (οἴµοι, 799; αἰαῖ, 806; τί φῄς,
801). This despair, however, reaches its climax when he sees the dead body
of his wife. After his order (809–10):
Unlock the doors that bar the portal, servants, loose their fastenings, so that
I may see the bitter sight (ὡς ἴδω πικρὰν θέαν) of my wife, who by her death
has destroyed me!
the doors of the house open, the hero sees Phaedra’s body rolled out on
the eccyclēma, and precisely at this moment his sorrow reaches its height,
which is expressed by a change of meter – a shift to particularly highly
emotional dochmiacs. Here speech and vision play the same role: both of
them give rise to emotions, yet vision has greater power of emotional
impact, creating the dramatic climax.
The parallelism of speech and vision comes to the linking of these two
motifs in the next scene at the moment when Theseus reads Phaedra’s
note. The note combines both these motifs – those of speech and vision:
it appears here as speech perceived by the eyes. The combination of these
two motifs is deliberately emphasized by the author when he brings into
collision words relating to speech and vision. Written words at which
Theseus is looking begin to sound in his consciousness, and their sound
corresponds to the emotions inspired in him by the note. Unwrapping the
note, Theseus says: φέρ᾽...ἴδω τί λέξαι δέλτος ἥδε µοι θέλει ‘Let me see what
this tablet wishes to tell me’ (864–5). Then, having read it and learnt the
news of his son’s crime that threw him into horror, Theseus sees the words
crying out loud (βοᾷ βοᾷ δέλτος ἄλαστα, ‘The tablet cries aloud, it cries things
grievous,’ 877) and singing a sorrowful song (879–80): οἷον οἷον εἶδον
γραφαῖς µέλος / φθεγγόµενον τλάµων ‘Such is the tune I in my wretchedness
have seen sung by the tablet!’
In the two scenes examined above, vision together with words provokes
Theseus’ emotions – his grief over his wife’s death and his indignation
against his son – and thus leads him to the wrongful accusation and
punishment of his son. There is still another example of a similar emotional
impact of vision in Hippolytus: vision generates the main emotion in the
drama – Phaedra’s ἔρως.
The first stasimon of the tragedy, which has the form of a hymn to Eros
and tells about the destructive force of this god, begins with the words:
Ἔρως Ἔρως, ὃ κατ᾽ ὀµµάτων
στάζεις πόθον, εἰσάγων γλυκεῖαν
ψυχᾷ χάριν οὓς ἐπιστρατεύσῃ
Eros, Eros, thou that distillest desire down upon the eyes,45 bringing sweet
pleasure to the souls of those against whom you make war. (525–7)
34
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 35
Speech and vision
Sweet pleasure is deceptive, for Eros destroys human beings making war
against them. One of Eros’ victims is Phaedra, whose love is described in the
same visual terms. Telling about the birth of passion in Phaedra’s soul in
the prologue of the tragedy, Aphrodite particularly emphasizes its visual
aspect. She says (placing the word ἰδοῦσα in an emphatic first position in
the verse):
ἰδοῦσα Φαίδρα καρδίαν κατέσχετο
ἔρωτι δεινῷ τοῖς ἐµοῖς βουλεύµασιν
Phaedra saw him, and her heart was seized with a dreadful longing by my
design. (27–8)
Here ἔρως penetrates into the soul through the eyes in the same way as in
the first stasimon; thus, the same idea which is expressed in a generalized
and figurative form in the Chorus’s song finds its particular narrative
embodiment in the prologue.
The association of ἔρως with vision was traditional in Greek literature.
As Cairns has shown,46 in classical Greek literature there existed two
different ways of using the motif of eyes and vision in describing the
passion of love. On the one hand, love is born of glances cast by its object,
the beloved; on the other, love penetrates through the lover’s eyes into his
or her soul as a result of contemplating the object of his or her passion.
Cairns links these two types of cases with two physical models explaining
vision that existed in Greece – the active or emissionist model, which
explained vision as the sending forth of rays from the eyes of the subject
to the object, and the passive or emanationist model, which represented
vision as a result of particles emitted by the object getting into the eyes.
According to the reasonable suggestion of Cairns, the association of ἔρως
with passive vision might play a particular role: it shows ἔρως as a passive
emotion leading to the loss of self-control and hindering the implementation
of rational decisions (as, e.g. in Plato Phdr. 251b–c).
In Hippolytus this association performs the same function. Incidentally,
we find the same combination of motifs playing the same role in another
Euripidean tragedy, The Trojan Women. Menelaus, appearing on the stage in
front of Hecuba, tells her about his intention to punish Helen with death
for the death of his comrades-in-arms in the Trojan War. Hecuba approves
of his decision but warns him that, on seeing Helen, he should not be taken
by an erotic desire and not abandon his intention (Tr. 891–2):
ὁρᾶν δὲ τήνδε φεῦγε, µή σ’ ἕλῃ πόθῳ.
αἱρεῖ γὰρ ἀνδρῶν ὄµµατ’,
Yet shun the sight of her, lest she capture you with longing. For she ensnares
the eyes of men...
35
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 36
Chapter 2
The above-cited excerpt from The Trojan Women is reminiscent of the
passage from Hippolytus both in content with its emphasis on the role of
vision in the passion of love (in verse 891, the word ὁρᾶν ‘to look’ is
emphasized both by the word order in the sentence and by its position in
the verse) and lexically – by the use of the words πόθος ‘longing, desire’
and ὄµµατα ‘eyes.’ The association of love with vision plays here the same
role as in Hippolytus: it represents ἔρως as a passive uncontrollable emotion.
Thus, ἔρως turns out to be still another example of the impact of vision
paralyzing the human will. Because of its connection with emotions,
emphasized more than once in the drama, the motif of vision, just as the
motif of speech, is inscribed in the overall exculpatory conception of the
play. Vision arouses exceedingly strong emotions inevitably leading to
erroneous actions; therefore, the characters’ transgressions determined by
vision should be recognized as involuntary and should be exculpated.
Euripides might have special reasons for incorporating the motifs of
speech and vision in the overall exculpatory motivation of his tragedy.
Firstly, speech and spectacle are two main elements of a dramatic
performance and two main ways of producing an emotional impact
on the audience. Therefore, these motifs are the most stage-worthy; their
use enables the author to make the public feel emotions close to those of
the characters and makes the events happening on the stage directly
tangible.
Secondly, the motifs of speech and vision lend a generalized philo-
sophical sound to the theme of exculpation. Vision is the main way of
perceiving reality, and speech is a way of transferring knowledge from man
to man. In Euripides’ tragedy, these two essential capabilities characterizing
the nature of man turn out to be weaknesses of man rather than his
strengths. People, who are by force of their nature endowed with them,
are susceptible to emotions because of them and therefore cannot act
rightly at all. Thus, the involuntary errors committed by the characters of
the drama are a result not of a specific set of circumstances determined by
this particular plot but of the very specifics of human existence. In general,
people always commit errors and therefore, in the human world,
forgiveness should always be ready to be given. ‘Forgive! To err is
mankind’s lot, my son!’ the Nurse says to Hippolytus (615), and this phrase
exactly expresses the overall exculpatory meaning that the tragedy carries.
Strikingly close to Hippolytus in its thematic structure and having the
same parallelism of the emotional impact of vision and speech, the same
overall exculpatory rhetorical strategy and the same association between
vision and ἔρως is a further text dating from about the same period –
Gorgias’ Encomium of Helen (fr. 82B11 DK).
36
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 37
Speech and vision
Gorgias’ speech, which is an apology for Helen, who abandoned her
husband and eloped to Troy with Paris, is built according to the same
rhetorical pattern as the exculpation of the characters of Hippolytus. The
orator needs to show that Helen’s role in this event was a passive one and
that her transgression was involuntary; therefore, the general thematic
outline of the speech is determined by the activity-passivity and evil intent-
unhappy set of circumstances antitheses typical of exculpatory speeches:
οὐχ ὡς ἁµάρτηµα µεµπτέον ἀλλ᾽ ὡς ἀτύχηµα νοµιστέον· ἦλθε γάρ, ὡς ἦλθε, τύχης
ἀγρεύµασιν, οὐ γνώµης βουλεύµασι ‘It ought not to be blamed as a sin but
ought rather to be accounted a misfortune. For she went, as she started
out, in the clutches of fortune, not by plans of the mind’ (19).
In order to prove the involuntary character of Helen’s transgression,
Gorgias examines its various causes which may serve as exculpatory
factors. The first two causes ἢ γὰρ τύχης βουλήµασι καὶ θεῶν βουλεύµασι καὶ
ἀνάγκης ψηφίσµασιν ἔπραξεν ἃ ἔπραξεν, ἢ βίᾳ ἁρπασθεῖσα ‘Either by the wishes
of Fortune and designs of the gods and decrees of Necessity she did what
she did, or abducted by force’ (6) – fall under one of the typical category
of exculpatory motifs, the external causes, and an appeal to them is the
procedure of transfer of guilt that is common for exculpation. Incidentally,
the idea of θεῶν βουλεύµατα ‘designs of the gods’ is quite reminiscent of the
motif of Aphrodite’s evil design which is so important in Hippolytus.
Gorgias, however, touches on these two causes only in passing.
Apparently, he is much more interested in two other possible causes which
diverge from the traditional rhetorical set yet are remarkably reminiscent
of the two key themes of Hippolytus – speech (λόγος) and vision (ὄψις).
Speech could play an evil part in Helen’s destiny, for, according to
Gorgias, it possesses a great power:
εἰ δὲ λόγος ὁ πείσας καὶ τὴν ψυχὴν ἀπατήσας, οὐδὲ πρὸς τοῦτο χαλεπὸν
ἀπολογήσασθαι καὶ τὴν αἰτίαν ἀπολύσασθαι ὧδε. λόγος δυνάστης µέγας ἐστίν,
ὃς σµικροτάτῳ σώµατι καὶ ἀφανεστάτῳ θειότατα ἔργα ἀποτελεῖ·
And if persuasive discourse deceived her soul, it is not on that account
difficult to defend her and absolve her of responsibility, thus: discourse is
a great potentate, which by the smallest and most secret body accomplishes
the most divine works. (8)
The reasoning, which expands on this idea of the power of speech, could
serve as an excellent commentary on the subject of speech in Hippolytus.
Firstly, speech is capable of arousing various emotions (δύναται γὰρ καὶ
φόβον παῦσαι καὶ λύπην ἀφελεῖν καὶ χαρὰν ἐνεργάσασθαι καὶ ἔλεον ἐπαυξῆσαι
‘It can stop fear and assuage pain and produce joy and make mercy
abound,’ 8), which the orator illustrates with an example of poetry:
37
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 38
Chapter 2
ἧς τοὺς ἀκούοντας εἰσῆλθε καὶ φρίκη περίφοβος καὶ ἔλεος πολύδακρυς καὶ
πόθος φιλοπενθής, ἐπ’ ἀλλοτρίων τε πραγµάτων καὶ σωµάτων εὐτυχίαις καὶ
δυσπραγίαις ἴδιόν τι πάθηµα διὰ τῶν λόγων ἔπαθεν ἡ ψυχή.
Fearful shuddering and tearful pity and sorrowful longing come upon those
who hear it, and the soul experiences a peculiar feeling, on account of the
words, at the good and bad fortunes of other people’s affairs and bodies. (9)
This power of emotional impact inherent in speech makes the hearer
defenseless against verbal persuasion (10–11). Secondly, people all the
more cannot resist misleading speeches since they do not possess firm and
true knowledge that could be opposed to words deceiving them, and
content themselves only with an unreliable opinion:
ὅσοι δὲ ὅσους περὶ ὅσων καὶ ἔπεισαν καὶ πείθουσι δὲ ψευδῆ λόγον πλάσαντες.
εἰ µὲν γὰρ πάντες περὶ πάντων εἶχον τῶν <τε> παροιχοµένων µνήµην τῶν τε
παρόντων <ἔννοιαν> τῶν τε µελλόντων πρόνοιαν, οὐκ ἂν ὁµοίως ὅµοιος ἦν
ὁ λόγος, οἷς τὰ νῦν γε οὔτε µνησθῆναι τὸ παροιχόµενον οὔτε σκέψασθαι τὸ
παρὸν οὔτε µαντεύσασθαι τὸ µέλλον εὐπόρως ἔχει· ὥστε περὶ τῶν πλείστων
οἱ πλεῖστοι τὴν δόξαν σύµβουλον τῆ ψυχῆ παρέχονται.
How many people have persuaded and do persuade anyone about anything,
shaping lying discourse. For if all people possessed memory concerning all
things past, and awareness of all things present, and foreknowledge of all
things to come, discourse would not be similarly similar; but actually it is not
easy to remember the past or consider the present or foretell the future; so
that most people on most subjects furnish themselves with opinion as
advisor to the soul. (11)
Thus, words can deceive, replacing one misconception in the hearer’s mind
with another: ‘by setting aside one opinion and building up another in its
stead they make incredible and obscure things apparent to the eyes of
opinion’ (13), as Gorgias says about students of celestial phenomena with
their fantastic arguments.
Gorgias’ writing, which has a metarhetorical meaning, i.e., is devoted to
discussing and illustrating the persuasive function of words, focuses mainly
on only one example of the impact of speech – verbal persuasion.
In Hippolytus, persuasion also plays a certain part, appearing in two
instances – in the situation where the Nurse by deceit obtains Phaedra’s
consent to a conversation with Hippolytus and in the instance of Phaedra’s
posthumous note; however, the range of examples demonstrating the
power of words is not limited here to persuasion alone and turns out to be
much wider. Nevertheless, the coincidence in both texts of two main
aspects of the impact of speech, emotional and cognitive, is quite
noticeable. This connection of speech with emotions and ignorance, which
38
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 39
Speech and vision
were traditional exculpatory factors, enables both authors to include speech
itself among exculpatory motifs.
Even more evident is the similarity between the two works in
interpreting vision. Firstly, Gorgias, like Euripides, resorts to associating
ἔρως with vision. The explanation of ἔρως by a visual impression received
by lovers serves the same purpose in Helen as it does in Hippolytus: it makes
it possible to emphasize the passive role of the enamored heroine and
her inability to resist the feeling that has overtaken her, and thus to
exculpate her:
εἰ γὰρ ἔρως ἦν ὁ ταῦτα πάντα πράξας, οὐ χαλεπῶς διαφεύξεται τὴν τῆς
λεγοµένης γεγονέναι ἁµαρτίας αἰτίαν. ἃ γὰρ ὁρῶµεν, ἔχει φύσιν οὐχ ἣν ἡµεῖς
θέλοµεν, ἀλλ’ ἣν ἕκαστον ἔτυχε.
If it was love that brought all these things to pass, she escapes without
difficulty from the blame for the sin alleged to have taken place. For the
things we see do not have whatever nature we will, but rather that which
befalls each. (15)
Secondly, Gorgias, just as Euripides, links other emotions with vision, thus
bringing them into line with ἔρως. By way of an example of such an
emotion, Gorgias describes the fear which warriors feel at the sight of the
enemy (εἰ θεάσεται ἡ ὄψις ἐταράχθη καὶ ἐτάραξε τὴν ψυχήν, 16). Concluding the
entire reasoning about vision is a general comment about the emotional
impact of various visually perceived objects: ‘Thus it is in the nature of the
visual sense to long for some things and for other things to give it pain’
(οὕτω τὰ µὲν λυπεῖν τὰ δὲ ποθεῖν πέφυκε τὴν ὄψιν, 18).
Finally, quite remarkable is the similarity between Helen and Hippolytus
in terms of parallelism between speech and vision. Whereas in Hippolytus
this parallelism is expressed dramatically, in the construction and dynamics
of dramatic situations, in Helen it is created by the similar function of these
two motifs in the overall composition of speech (both of them are equally
regarded as possible exculpatory factors) and particularly emphasized by
individual coincidences in the reasoning about speech and vision.47
The closeness of the texts of Gorgias and Euripides is undeniable. Both
authors use the same thematic complex of exculpation, inscribe in it the
motifs of speech and vision and link vision with the central narrative motif
of both works – the motif of love. The main distinction between Helen and
Hippolytus is that emphasis in them is placed on different elements of this
complex, and this distinction is explained by their different conceptual
tasks. Gorgias’ attention is turned towards speech and verbal persuasion
based on the ability of speech to arouse emotions and thereby to deceive
the listener. Thus, the exculpatory themes are here only a general framework
39
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 40
Chapter 2
built into which is the main passage, the description of the power of
persuasive speech. The lengthy reasoning about the role of vision also
performs an auxiliary function in his writing: the parallelism between
speech and vision makes it possible to create an illustrative analogy to the
essential characteristics of speech. In addition, the application of exculpatory
topics to the story of Helen’s elopement becomes a practical illustration of
his theoretical ideas about the power of speech. Gorgias aspires to persuade
his listeners with his speech, upholding an intentionally paradoxical and
false opinion about the heroine’s innocence (unlike Phaedra in Hippolytus,
Helen gave in to her feeling, so her exculpation, naturally, is paradoxical).
In Euripides’ Hippolytus, on the contrary, it is precisely the theme of
exculpation which determines the entire conceptual idea, while the motifs
of speech and vision are subordinated to it, lending it additional dramatic
expressivity and giving it a special philosophical dimension.
The closeness between the works of Gorgias and Euripides compels
one to raise the question about a possible connection between them. It is
hardly possible to assume dependence of Hippolytus on Helen both on the
grounds of chronology (428 BC, the year of staging Hippolytus, seems to be
too early a date for making borrowings from Gorgias, whose influence on
Athenian culture began after his arrival in Athens in 427 BC as a member
of a diplomatic mission on behalf of Leontini) and on logical grounds.
In Helen, where the theme of exculpation serves only as a general
framework while all attention is turned towards an individual element of
the thematic complex, we most likely see only a secondary development of
the topics which in Hippolytus carry their own primary meaning. On the
other hand, we can hardly speak about Gorgias’ dependence on Euripides.
In the tragedy, the thematic structure is present only implicitly, being
expressed through individual phrases of the characters and through the
overall organization of action, whereas in Gorgias’ speech it is explicated
and divided into strict sections, and I cannot think of examples of such
analytical explication of the themes of a dramatic work (except perhaps in
a literary critical analysis). It would therefore be most reasonable to assume
that both Euripides and Gorgias use here a common sophistic topos; this
topos combines in itself elements of forensic rhetoric and themes reflecting
philosophical interest in problems of speech and vision that was
widespread in 5th-century BC intellectual circles.
40
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 41
3
αἰδώς AND THE AMBIVALENCE OF VIRTUE
αἰδώς is one of the central themes of Hippolytus. One comes across the word
αἰδώς and its cognate verb αἰδοῦµαι in the tragedy several times and, still
more important, this concept underlies practically each situation and
determines quite a few actions of the characters. Therefore, the semantics
and functioning of this concept in the tragedy constitute a problem the
solution of which may shed light on certain major aspects of the overall
conception of the work. However, before we proceed to examining this
theme, several remarks should be made about the meaning and usage of the
word αἰδώς in Athens in the 5th century BC.
In the most general sense, αἰδώς meant a feeling dictated by an
individual’s understanding of his place in the social structure and his duties
towards others.48 This social dimension of αἰδώς might be twofold. αἰδώς
implied both one’s attention towards the status of other people and,
similarly to our concept of ‘shame before someone,’ one’s attention
towards other people’s opinion of his own actions.
αἰδώς may be defined as a feeling controlling an individual’s actions,
compelling him to conduct himself in conformity with the pattern of status
relationships existing in society (τιµή relationships). Various relationships
into which he enters with other people impose certain social obligations on
him, and αἰδώς compels him to act in accordance with these obligations –
i.e., to act in the way demanded by the duty of friendship, the duty of a
father or a son, a husband or a wife, the duty of a host to his guest, the
duty of a servant to his master, etc.
There existed a certain set of typical situations to which the concept of
αἰδώς was applied particularly often, and this entire set is found in one or
other of Euripides’ tragedies. αἰδώς could be manifested in reverence for
the gods (Ba. 263) or in observing one’s duties towards one’s near and dear
ones – for example, towards a friend and guest (Alc. 601, 857), towards
one’s relatives (Heracl. 6), or the duties of a son towards his father
(Alc. 601). A special sphere of manifestation of αἰδώς was respect for
suppliants (Med. 326, 349, Heracl. 101). Quite often αἰδώς acquired the
meaning of moral self-restraint keeping one from actions that might do
damage to the dignity of others or to one’s own dignity in the face of
41
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 42
Chapter 3
others – for example, from cowardice in war (Heracl. 813). One of the
major spheres of such self-restraint is the sexual sphere, so that αἰδώς
regularly has the meaning of chastity and modesty (cf., e.g., IA 821, 833,
839), acting as a synonym for the word σωφροσύνη (cf. Plato Chrm.160e,
161a, Phdr. 253d–e).
In most of its usages, αἰδώς is opposite to the concept of ὕβρις.
Underlying ὕβρις is also the idea of one’s own and others’ status; however,
while αἰδώς implies their correct delimitation determined by one’s attention
to others’ status, ὕβρις, on the contrary, implies excessive self-assertion
humiliating the dignity of others.49 To the extent that αἰδώς connotes self-
restraint, ὕβρις is linked to self-arbitrariness or self-condonation and
therefore it may become an antonym of αἰδώς and σωφροσύνη: while αἰδώς
means sobriety, chastity and modesty, ὕβρις takes on the meaning of self-
indulgence, in particular, in the sexual sphere.
Thus, the concept of αἰδώς was applicable to various situations, in
which it acquired different meanings. In the 5th century BC, however,
αἰδώς began to be conceived as a single concept in philosophical literature
and was included in the system of social and political virtues that was
taking shape at the time. For example, in the myth about the origin of the
political virtues which Plato puts into the mouth of Protagoras in the
dialogue of the same name and which probably to a certain extent
reproduces the ideas and reasonings of Protagoras himself, δίκη and αἰδώς
act as the two virtues imparted to men by Zeus so that they should learn
to live a social life.
Quite often scholars point out only one, sexual, form of αἰδώς in
Hippolytus. Thus, it is only a conflict between excessive chastity and the
strength of ἔρως that appears to be the dramatic focus of the tragedy.
It can hardly be denied that this conflict is present in the drama and
occupies an important place in its structure. However, as I shall try to show,
the implications of the concept of αἰδώς in the tragedy are much broader
and its various meanings are deliberately linked together by the author so
that αἰδώς appears in its most general sense – that of social feeling or social
virtue. The various specific forms that this concept takes on in the course
of the tragedy serve the purpose of bringing to light different, often
opposite and conflicting, aspects of this virtue, showing it in a different
light – as leading people to perform now good acts and now evil and often
bringing them to disaster – and finally asserting it as the principal moral
value of human life.
The words αἰδώς and αἰδοῦµαι appear in various situations in the tragedy,
expressing most varied aspects of social feeling. In the prologue,
Hippolytus imputes the quality of αἰδώς to an inviolate meadow dedicated
42
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 43
αἰδώς and the ambivalence of virtue
to Artemis. Tending this meadow, where only those to whom σωφροσύνη
is innate can pluck flowers, is Αἰδώς:
...the meadow is inviolate, and the bee makes its way through it in the spring-
time. Αἰδώς tends it with streams of river-water, for those who have
acquired nothing by teaching but rather in whose very nature virtue (τὸ
σωφρονεῖν) in all things always has been assigned her place – for them to
pluck; but the base have no right hereto. (76–82)
Here αἰδώς appears in a pair with σωφροσύνη and reminds one of the main
quality of Artemis and Hippolytus themselves – their sexual purity.
Then, in the first epeisodion, Phaedra becomes ashamed of her amorous
delirium which has made her reveal her secret desire of going into the
world of wild nature where her beloved Hippolytus is. In referring to her
shame, Phaedra uses the verb αἰδοῦµαι (αἰδούµεθα γὰρ τὰ λελεγµένα µοι ‘For
I am ashamed of my words’, 244), which in this context is again associated
with the idea of sexual purity.
It is the very same chaste αἰδώς that leads Phaedra to suicide; according
to the Chorus, she kills herself, ‘feeling shame at her bitter fate’ (δαίµονα
στυγνὸν καταιδεσθεῖσα, 772)
αἰδώς, however, is also applied in Hippolytus to other situations not
related to chastity. In the first epeisodion, Phaedra uses the verb αἰδοῦµαι
with reference to the feeling compelling her to give in to the insistent
requests of the Nurse and tell her about the cause of her illness – her love
for Hippolytus: σέβας γὰρ χειρὸς αἰδοῦµαι τὸ σόν ‘I respect your reverend
hand’ (335). Here we find still another traditional case of αἰδώς –
manifestation of respect for a suppliant.
The verb αἰδοῦµαι appears yet again at the end of the drama, marking the
gradual transition in Theseus’ mood: at first, having learned that
Hippolytus’ punishment has been carried out, Theseus shows his joy, yet,
having heard a detailed account of that punishment, he displays sympathy
dictated by αἰδώς:
νῦν δ᾽ αἰδούµενος
θεούς τ᾽ ἐκεῖνόν θ᾽, οὕνεκ᾽ ἐστὶν ἐξ ἐµοῦ,
οὔθ᾽ ἥδοµαι τοῖσδ᾽ οὔτ᾽ ἐπάχθοµαι κακοῖς.
But now in respect for the gods and for this man, since he is my son, I feel
neither pleasure nor pain at these misfortunes. (1258–60)
In other dramatic situations, the word αἰδώς is not used yet is implied, since
all of them are examples of the most typical implications of this concept.
Such situations include:
1) Hippolytus’ reverence for Artemis most expressively shown in the
prologue. Cf. αἰδώς as reverence for the gods in Ba. 263 (the Chorus on
43
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 44
Chapter 3
Pentheus’ attitude towards Bacchic orgies): τῆς δυσσεβείας. ὦ ξέν᾽, οὐκ αἰδῇ
θεούς; ‘Oh,what impiety! O stranger, do you not reverence the gods?’
2) the Nurse’s friendly concern for Phaedra.
It is φιλία which is the mainspring of the Nurse’s action. She herself
admits to her excessive φιλία:
Mortals should not mix the cup of their affection (φιλία) to one another
too strong, and it should not sink to their very marrow, but the affection that
binds their hearts should be easy to loosen, easy either to thrust from them
or to bind tightly. It is a grievous burden that one soul should be in travail
over two the way I grieve for her. (254–60)
Seeing that Phaedra is in danger of death, the Nurse first uses every way to
elicit from her mistress the cause of her illness. Then, wishing to fulfill her
duty as a loving servant to the end and save Phaedra from death, the Nurse
resorts to the ultimate remedy: she tries to bring Phaedra and Hippolytus
together. As she herself explains to Phaedra the motives behind her action,
‘as things stand, the struggle is a great one – to save your life – and no one
can begrudge us this course’ (496–7).
αἰδώς is often associated with and connotes φιλία. One of the main
spheres of αἰδώς was the performance of duties determined by relationships
of friendship or kinship. For example, in Alcestis Admetus displays αἰδώς
towards Heracles (cf. 601 and 857), performing his duty as a friend and
receiving him at his house despite mourning. In Heraclidae, αἰδώς compels
Iolaus to participate in the feats and labors of his close relative Heracles:
ἐγὼ γὰρ αἰδοῖ καὶ τὸ συγγενὲς σέβων,
ἐξὸν κατ᾽ Ἄργος ἡσύχως ναίειν, πόνων
πλείστων µετέσχον εἷς ἀνὴρ Ἡρακλέει,
For out of a sense of αἰδώς and because I reverenced the tie of blood,
I more than any other shared with Heracles in his many labors while he was
in our midst, though I could have lived at peace in Argos. (Heracl. 6–8)
3) Hippolytus’ adherence to an oath sworn by him to the Nurse.
Cf. Med. 439–40: βέβακε δ᾽ ὅρκων χάρις, οὐδ᾽ ἔτ᾽ αἰδὼς / Ἑλλάδι τᾷ µεγάλᾳ
µένει, αἰθερία δ᾽ ἀνέπτα ‘The charm of an oath has gone, and αἰδώς is no
more to be found in wide Hellas: she has taken wing to heaven.’
4) Hippolytus’ final forgiveness of Theseus (this meaning of αἰδώς will
be discussed later in this chapter).
In order to sort out the logical relationships that exist between the
various examples of αἰδώς, it is worthwhile first to turn to the moral
reasoning which is central in the tragedy and the theme of which is αἰδώς –
Phaedra’s main monologue in the first epeisodion, the more so as it is on
44
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 45
αἰδώς and the ambivalence of virtue
interpretations of this monologue that most scholars found their inferences
about the role of αἰδώς in the tragedy.
At the opening of the monologue, Phaedra says (375–90):
ἤδη ποτ᾽ ἄλλως νυκτὸς ἐν µακρῷ χρόνῳ
θνητῶν ἐφρόντισ᾽ ᾗ διέφθαρται βίος.
καί µοι δοκοῦσιν οὐ κατὰ γνώµης φύσιν
πράσσειν κάκιον50· ἔστι γὰρ τό γ᾽ εὖ φρονεῖν
πολλοῖσιν· ἀλλὰ τῇδ᾽ ἀθρητέον τόδε·
τὰ χρήστ᾽ ἐπιστάµεσθα καὶ γιγνώσκοµεν,
οὐκ ἐκπονοῦµεν δ᾽, οἱ µὲν ἀργίας ὕπο,
οἱ δ᾽ ἡδονὴν προθέντες ἀντὶ τοῦ καλοῦ
ἄλλην τιν᾽. εἰσὶ δ᾽ ἡδοναὶ πολλαὶ βίου,
µακραί τε λέσχαι καὶ σχολή, τερπνὸν κακόν,
αἰδώς τε· δισσαὶ δ᾽ εἰσίν, ἡ µὲν οὐ κακή,
ἡ δ᾽ ἄχθος οἴκων· εἰ δ᾽ ὁ καιρὸς ἦν σαφὴς
οὐκ ἂν δύ᾽ ἤστην ταὔτ᾽ ἔχοντε γράµµατα.
ταῦτ᾽ οὖν ἐπειδὴ τυγχάνω φρονοῦσ᾽ ἐγώ
οὐκ ἔσθ᾽ ὁποίῳ φαρµάκῳ διαφθερεῖν
ἔµελλον, ὥστε τοὔµπαλιν πεσεῖν φρενῶν.
I have pondered before now in other circumstances in the night’s long
watches how it is that the lives of mortals are in ruins. I think that it is not
owing to the nature of their mind that they fare worse than they might, since
many people possess good sense. Rather, one must look at it this way:
we know and understand what is good but do not make efforts and bring
it to completion. Some fail from laziness, others because they set some other
pleasure before virtue. Life’s pleasures are many – long leisurely hours of
talking, and idleness (a pleasant evil), and αἰδώς. Of this there are two kinds,
one of them being no bad thing, but the other a burden upon houses. If the
right moment were always clear, there would not be two of them designated
by the same letters. Since these are the views I happen to have arrived at
beforehand, there is no drug that could make me pervert them and reverse
my opinion.
This passage has become an object of increased attention among scholars:
perhaps, more studies are devoted to this passage alone than to the rest of
the text of Hippolytus. One of the main causes of polemics concerning this
passage is the fact that in it αἰδώς is placed in a paradoxical context: this
concept, usually denoting virtue, is unexpectedly contrasted with moral
good (τὸ καλόν) and is referred to as pleasure. In addition, Phaedra’s remark
about two sorts of αἰδώς needs to be explained.
Before turning to interpretation of this unusual characterization of αἰδώς,
a few words should be said about the general moral content of this
reasoning as a whole. Underlying it is the contraposition between two
forces controlling human actions – conscious moral will (γνώµη) and
45
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 46
Chapter 3
pleasure (ἡδονή). The case that Phaedra describes is an example of ἀκρασία,
‘lack of self-control’: a person is aware of what correct and moral behavior
is, but pleasure weakens his will, impelling him to commit misdeeds.
A description of ἀκρασία containing the antithesis of γνώµη and ἡδονή is
not infrequently found in texts by philosophers of the 5th and 4th centuries
BC. For example, Plato discusses this antithesis in Protagoras, presenting it
as a generally accepted opinion (353b–c), and calls its correctness into
question, trying to prove that all human misdeeds are determined by errors
of γνώµη.51
From a number of contexts in speeches by Athenian orators it transpires
that pleasure, in contrast to strong negative emotions also creating
ἀκρασία – such as φόβος or λύπη – was normally considered as an aggravating
circumstance, and the cases of ἀκρασία in which pleasure impeded the
implementation of the right moral will deserved to be condemned.52
This general background makes it possible to establish the intention of
Phaedra’s reasoning. In her opinion, it is not from humans’ absolute moral
corruption and not from their wrong moral views that their errors result.
Conscious moral will is normally directed towards good, but there is
another, external factor that impedes the implementation of that will. It is,
however, not an irresistible force, which compels one to view a misdeed as
involuntary and thus to justify it – not strong negative emotions, ignorance
or a concourse of circumstances – but pleasure, which does not exonerate
one from responsibility for the misdeed. Phaedra views a concession to
pleasure only as a weakness of moral will (οὐκ ἐκπονοῦµεν); this will must be
strained, and then one will be able to overcome the temptation.
This meaning of Phaedra’s reasoning, naturally, must be subordinated
to the logic of the drama and determined by the situation in which the
heroine finds herself at the moment. A reference to Phaedra’s current
situation is found in the word she uses, ἄλλως, in the phrase ἤδη ποτ᾽ ἄλλως
νυκτὸς ἐν µακρῷ χρόνῳ / θνητῶν ἐφρόντισ᾽ ᾗ διέφθαρται βίος (375–6). As Barrett
has shown from several similar examples,53 this word implies that the
general considerations at which Phaedra had previously arrived are
somehow corroborated by her own case. Regardless of the degree to which
this reasoning was caused by Phaedra’s previous actions, about which I
will speak a little later, it is in any case related to the next part of her
monologue, where the talk is about a new action that the heroine decides
to take – about her suicide.54 It is her thought about committing suicide
which is the main one in the second part of the monologue, and it is suicide
which is linked in Phaedra’s consciousness with moral good (τὸ καλόν),
appearing to her the only morally right choice: ‘I resolved on death, the
best of plans, as no one shall deny’ (401–2, cf. 419–21). Therefore it is an
46
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 47
αἰδώς and the ambivalence of virtue
expression of Phaedra’s readiness with utmost persistence and to the last
(cf. ἐκπονοῦµεν) to follow her conscious moral choice, that of committing
suicide, which must be the main intention of her reasoning.
Let us now turn to that part of the passage which lists pleasures
(ἡδοναί) – temptations that may hinder the implementation of the moral
intention. The list of pleasures (ἀργία ‘idleness, laziness,’ µακραὶ λέσχαι ‘long
talks,’ σχολή ‘leisure,’ and αἰδώς) is quite unusual, and scholars seek to
reduce it as much as possible. For example, Barrett leaves among pleasures
only µακραὶ λέσχαι and σχολή, which are named immediately after the phrase
εἰσὶ δ᾽ ἡδοναὶ πολλαὶ βίου ‘life’s pleasures are many,’ and the latter is, in
addition, directly described as τερπνὸν κακόν ‘pleasant evil.’ ἀργία ‘laziness’
is excluded by Barrett on the grounds that ἄλλην τινά may mean not only
‘some other pleasure’, but also ‘something else, namely some pleasure’, and
the phrase may therefore be understood as ‘some out of laziness, others
instead because they set some pleasure before virtue’, not including laziness
among pleasures.55 Kovacs responds to this with a rather convincing
argument, noting that in most examples of usage of such a construction
ἄλλος stands close to the governing word, whereas here it is placed in an
emphatic hyperbaton.56 Besides ἀργία, Barrett excludes αἰδώς from the list of
pleasures. In his opinion, αἰδώς τε at the beginning of verse 385 should not
be included as a homogeneous part among examples of ἡδοναί in verse 384;
rather, it should be regarded as a logical continuation of the construction
in 382–3: οἱ δ᾽ ἡδονὴν προθέντες ἀντὶ τοῦ καλοῦ ἄλλην τιν᾽. αἰδώς τε in this case
should be a substitute for the implied phrase οἱ δ᾽ αἰδῶ προθέντες. Barrett
explains this change in the grammatical construction by the influence of the
group of nominatives in verses 383–4: ‘She [Phaedra] has (and so have the
audience) forgotten the grammatical construction of the earlier parts of
the list, and adds αἰδώς as though the whole list had been given in the
nominative’.57 Kovacs rightly challenges this argument: ‘Both we the
audience and “she” must be extraordinary forgetful (there is, of course, no
“she” to forget inter loquendum, only Euripides the poet forgetting inter
scribendum) if a line and a half of simple coordinate nominatives can make
us lose our way’. In addition, as Kovacs convincingly notes, hardly anyone
among the public, having heard αἰδώς τε, could understand these words as
meaning οἱ δ᾽ αἰδῶ προθέντες, since αἰδώς is linked by the conjunction τε to
the preceding verse, and the copulative conjunction τε cannot be a
substitute for the disjunctive οἱ δέ.58
Apparently, in both cases, both with ἀργία and with αἰδώς, the
grammatical arguments advanced by Barrett should not be convincing by
themselves. They only enable him to read the sentence in a different way,
without including these two concepts among pleasures, and he proceeds
47
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 48
Chapter 3
from the logical necessity, presumed by him, to exclude ἀργία and αἰδώς
from among pleasures.
If we do not accept Barrett’s interpretation, we are left facing the
problem of a rather singular and unusual list of pleasures. In addition, in
any case it requires to be explained why αἰδώς is opposed to moral good
(τὸ καλόν) and what meaning Euripides may attach to the words about ‘two
kinds of αἰδώς’ in verses 383–7.
A way to solve nearly all of these problems was proposed by
Willink,59 followed by Claus60 and then by Kovacs, who supplemented his
predecessors’ philological arguments with some general considerations on
Phaedra’s behavior and character. This way consists in a radical
reinterpretation of the entire phrase. In the first place, they propose to
understand ἄλλην τινά as ‘other’ in respect of τὸ καλόν rather than ἀργία,
and to regard τὸ καλόν as the designation of a pleasure. As a parallel to this
characteristic of τὸ καλόν Claus cites Democritus’ fragment 68B207 DK:
ἡδονὴν οὐ πᾶσαν, ἀλλὰ τὴν ἐπὶ τῷ καλῷ αἱρεῖσθαι χρεών ‘One should not choose
every pleasure, but only that concerned with moral good’. Kovacs mentions
also Aristotle’s reasoning that a morally virtuous man finds pleasure in
doing good acts (EN 1099a7 ff.); added to these parallels could be an
expression put by Plato into the mouth of Protagoras (Prt. 351b):
– And, I suppose, to live pleasantly is good, and unpleasantly, bad?
– Yes, he said, if one lived in the enjoyment of honorable things (τοῖς
καλοῖς...ἡδόµενος).
Willink’s second idea supplements his first one: he proposes to relate
δισσαί ‘two’ to ἡδοναί, and not to αἰδώς. It then turns out that some
pleasures or, rather, some pleasure objects such as µακραὶ λέσχαι and σχολή,
are bad, whereas others, i.e., moral good (τὸ καλόν), are good. In this
interpretation, αἰδώς naturally must refer to τὸ καλόν and be included among
good pleasures.
This interpretation enabled Kovacs to see in Phaedra’s words a statement
of her moral creed – the recognition of moral good (τὸ καλόν) and αἰδώς as
unconditional values: ‘Phaedra’s speech shows her to be a resolute woman
who understands clearly the moral issues that confront her and is prepared
to take drastic action. She is clear-eyed...about the course of action
necessary to achieve τὸ καλόν in her life’.61
The interpretation by Willink, Claus, and Kovacs makes it possible to
eliminate most of the questions brought about by this passage. It no longer
contains the paradoxical contraposition between αἰδώς and moral good
(τὸ καλόν); we do not have to search for variants for good and bad αἰδώς;
and, finally, the inclusion of αἰδώς among pleasures becomes meaningful.
48
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 49
αἰδώς and the ambivalence of virtue
And yet, for all the apparent advantages of this interpretation, certain
objections can be made against it which prevent one from accepting it.
Firstly, the characterization of moral good (τὸ καλόν) as a pleasure in
every place where it appears looks like a special philosophical thesis and not
a generally accepted opinion. It seems that philosophers specifically aim to
show that pleasure can be found in doing good acts, and by no means treat
this idea as widespread and generally known. Euripides, certainly, more
than once introduced the philosophical views of his day into his dramas;
they, however, need a certain explanation, while the phrase οἱ δ᾽ ἡδονὴν
προθέντες ἀντὶ τοῦ καλοῦ ἄλλην τιν᾽ can only be read in the suggested way if
the inclusion of τὸ καλόν under ἡδονή is perceived by all the spectators as
natural, indubitable and unquestionable.
Several objections may also be raised against linking δισσαί ‘two’ to
ἡδοναί ‘pleasures.’ Firstly, the singular in the phrase ἡ µὲν οὐ κακή, ἡ δ᾽ ἄχθος
οἴκων ‘one pleasure being no bad thing, another a burden upon houses’
looks strange, particularly so after the statement εἰσὶ δ᾽ ἡδοναὶ πολλαὶ βίου
‘life’s pleasures are many.’ Secondly, in the sentence δισσαὶ δ᾽ εἰσίν, ἡ µὲν οὐ
κακή, ἡ δ᾽ ἄχθος οἴκων the logical emphasis is on the second member of
opposition, i.e., if the talk here is about pleasures, on bad pleasure, for
otherwise the first member would not be described only in a negative way
(οὐ κακή ‘no bad thing’). If, however, we take the viewpoint of Willink,
Claus, and Kovacs and assume that the meaning of the passage is to assert
αἰδώς and τὸ καλόν as a true moral value, having recognized it as a right and
good pleasure, the emphasis should be on good rather than bad pleasures,
and they should be given a positive rather than negative description.
Thirdly, this interpretation makes absolutely devoid of meaning the
utterance about the ‘moment’ (καιρός), which serves as a criterion for
distinguishing between the bad and good sort: εἰ δ᾽ ὁ καιρὸς ἦν σαφής οὐκ ἂν
δύ᾽ ἤστην ταὔτ᾽ ἔχοντε γράµµατα ‘If the moment were clear, there would not
be two of them with the same name’ (386–7). If a good pleasure is a virtue
and long talks and leisure are bad pleasures, they already differ from each
other in their content regardless of the circumstances and the moment
(καιρός) when they are enjoyed. In order to get out of this predicament,
Kovacs has to give an absolutely impossible meaning, ‘propriety in
speaking,’ 62 to the word καιρός.
Thus, the interpretation by Willink, Claus and Kovacs has to be
rejected,63 and all the paradoxes and problems contained in the passage
under discussion remain unresolved. A second trend in interpreting this
passage aims not at eliminating the questions but at answering them
proceeding from the logic of the entire drama. Included in this trend may
be the ideas of Dodds, Segal, Cairns and, to some extent, of Barrett with
49
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 50
Chapter 3
the reservation that Barrett, as I already noted, tries to avoid including αἰδώς
among pleasures.64 The main questions that interest these scholars are as
follows: how to explain Phaedra’s thought about two sorts of αἰδώς and
why is αἰδώς called a pleasure. It seems most reasonable to separate these
two questions and analyze the answers to each of them in turn.
If we reject the Willink – Claus – Kovacs hypothesis and assume that
αἰδώς is not identical to τὸ καλόν but is opposed to it and that Phaedra’s
statement about ‘two sorts’ is related to αἰδώς and not to pleasure, it would
be natural to believe that this statement describes in some way errors
previously committed by the heroine, for otherwise the appearance of
αἰδώς among negative motives of behavior seems not only paradoxical
but also dramatically unjustified. Therefore, all the above-mentioned
interpretations of αἰδώς in this passage link this concept in one way or
another to Phaedra’s previous behavior.
Dodds65 sees in Phaedra’s words about ‘two sorts of αἰδώς’ an allusion
to the two situations in which the heroine manifested this feeling and where
the verb αἰδεῖσθαι was used. Firstly, after Phaedra, having failed to restrain
her amorous delirium, revealed to the Nurse her dreams of getting into
Hippolytus’ world, then, having felt ashamed of her impulse, she said:
αἰδούµεθα γὰρ τὰ λελεγµένα µοι ‘For I am ashamed of my words’ (244).
Dodds identifies this αἰδώς, restraining manifestations of her mad passion,
with αἰδὼς οὐ κακή (‘no bad αἰδώς’) in verse 385. Then, however, Phaedra
succumbs to the feeling of αἰδώς raised in her by the Nurse’s entreaties and
tells her about her passion, thus deviating from the pattern of behavior
that seems to her the only right one – that of keeping silent and concealing
her love. Phaedra comments on this concession with the words: σέβας γὰρ
χειρὸς αἰδοῦµαι τὸ σόν ‘I respect your reverend hand’ (335). In this case, in
Dodds’s opinion, the heroine manifests the form of αἰδώς which she
describes in her monologue as κακή ‘bad’ and ἄχθος οἴκων ‘a burden upon
houses’ (385–6). Whereas the former manifestation of αἰδώς was salutary
for Phaedra, the latter one destroys her.
Kovacs disputes the possibility of such an allusion to verses 244 and
335 in Phaedra’s monologue, believing that ‘it is highly improbable that
any spectator at the first performance on hearing 385 ff. would have
thought back to the two fleeting uses of the verb αἰδεῖσθαι, neither of which
is given much emphasis by its surroundings.’ 66 To this, however, it may be
objected that Euripides both times emphasizes and plays upon the concept
of αἰδώς through stage performance. In the former case, the use of the verb
αἰδοῦµεθα is accompanied by a gesture of covering up the head (µαῖα, πάλιν
µου κρύψον κεφαλήν ‘Nurse, cover my head up again,’ 243) – a gesture which
traditionally expressed this feeling.67 In the latter case, the spectator in
50
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 51
αἰδώς and the ambivalence of virtue
addition not only hears the verb αἰδεῖσθαι, but also sees a whole scene of
supplication accompanied by an imploring gesture of touching the right
hand (cf. Phaedra’s first reaction: ἄπελθε πρὸς θεῶν δεξιᾶς τ᾽ ἐµῆς µέθες ‘I ask
you by the gods, be gone, let my hand go!’ 333); the concept of αἰδώς was
a typical attribute of such scenes, describing respect for suppliants’
requests. In addition, at the end of his article Kovacs himself speaks about
αἰδώς as an important thematic word of the drama: ‘It is an important word,
it and the verb αἰδεῖσθαι occur several times in the play, and we ought to be
able to speak convincingly of the theme of αἰδώς.’ 68 If, however, αἰδώς is
actually a recurrent motif consciously carried out by the author, then it is
apparent that Euripides should have assumed that the audience were capable
of correlating the different uses of this word throughout the performance,
the more so as these uses were emphasized by scenic gestures.
Seeing in Phaedra’s words about two kinds of αἰδώς an allusion to the
preceding scene – at least, to a manifestation of this feeling in verse 335 –
appears to me quite logical. As already noted, if Phaedra does not
recall here her past errors, which she intends to avoid in the future,
then the paradoxical and emphatic inclusion of αἰδώς among pleasures
opposed to moral good turns out to be dramatically unfounded and thus
incomprehensible. While agreeing with this idea, I nevertheless cannot
accept certain general conclusions derived from it both by Dodds himself
and by his followers.
Dodds believes that a good αἰδώς is internal and true, and a bad one
external and false. Thus there arises a notion of an antithesis in the drama
between two sorts of αἰδώς that are opposite in their content. The conflict
between them is described by Dodds as a conflict between the heroine’s
striving for inner purity and her attention to social conventions, i.e., as a
conflict between internal and external morality. This idea of Dodds was
developed by Segal and formed the basis of his interpretation of both
Phaedra’s monologue and the tragedy as a whole.
From Segal’s point of view, the dynamics of Phaedra’s behavior
throughout the play is a progress from internal αἰδώς, i.e., αἰδώς aimed at
preserving her inner purity, to external and conventional αἰδώς eventually
manifesting itself in a desire to save her reputation at any cost and leading
her to slander Hippolytus. Concern for her reputation gradually replaces
her concern for her true inner morality: ‘Phaedra’s tragedy...is that she does
not maintain this inward “purity” or rather that she purchases the
temporary appearance of “purity” at the price of the deep, inward
“purity”...’ 69 Following Dodds, Segal finds contrast between inner and
outer purity in the two uses of αἰδεῖσθαι in verses 244 and 335 and, in the
light of this contrast, interprets Phaedra’s words about two sorts of αἰδώς
51
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 52
Chapter 3
in 385–6: ‘One side of the “double” αἰδώς will refer to Phaedra’s “respect”
for the opinion of others, her concern with how she appears to society...
The other αἰδώς will be her inward sense of modesty, shame, chastity. This
“good” αἰδώς is thus closely related to her “inner” purity...’ 70
Cairns on the whole follows the same interpretation, agreeing with Segal
in differentiating the internal and external aspects of Phaedra’s behavior,
in identifying bad αἰδώς in verses 385–6 with αἰδώς manifested by the
heroine in verse 335 and in explaining this bad αἰδώς as external and
conventional: ‘In 335 αἰδώς is concerned, on the surface, with external ritual
and, on a deeper level, with reputation, rather than with the moral character
of one’s conduct. The αἰδώς which opposes τὸ καλόν, therefore, is that
which is concerned with the outward aspect of one’s behaviour in the eyes
of others.’ 71
One, however, cannot agree with this point of view for a number of
reasons.
Firstly, we have no grounds for seeing in Phaedra’s αἰδώς towards the
Nurse a manifestation of the very same attention to her outward reputation
which would later on force the heroine to ruin Hippolytus. Rather on the
contrary, having satisfied the Nurse’s request and having told her about
her love, Phaedra sacrifices her reputation.72
Phaedra’s concern for her reputation actually occupies an important
place in the scene of her conversation with the Nurse; this concern,
however, manifests itself not in her concession to the Nurse’s entreaties
but, on the contrary, in her keeping silent and concealing her passion.
Even if some manifestation of αἰδώς in the first epeisodion does anticipate
the heroine’s subsequent behavior – her striving at any cost to avoid
revealing her secret, which eventually results in her ruinous slandering of
Hippolytus – it is not the ‘bad’ αἰδώς in verse 335 but the ‘good’ αἰδώς of
verse 244, i.e., a feeling of shame after her involuntary confessions that
this αἰδώς turns out to be. The opinion of Dodds, Segal and Cairns that
this αἰδώς in verse 244 is ‘internal’ αἰδώς is erroneous, since here Phaedra
is ashamed not so much of the passion she is experiencing as of the
external manifestation of this passion – her rash confessions made in the
presence of other people (αἰδούµεθα γὰρ τὰ λελεγµένα µοι ‘For I am ashamed
of my words’).73 What this αἰδώς compels the heroine to do is not force
the sinful passion out of her heart, as Segal believes,74 but prevent this
passion from manifesting itself either in deeds or in words.
Thus, the contradistinction between the ‘internal’ αἰδώς in verse 244 and
the ‘external’ αἰδώς in verse 335 turns out to be something of a scholarly
fiction and therefore cannot explain the phrase about two sorts of αἰδώς in
Phaedra’s monologue. In addition, another two serious objections can be
52
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 53
αἰδώς and the ambivalence of virtue
raised against the interpretation of the passage under discussion proposed
by Dodds, Segal and Cairns.
If we assume that the ‘bad’ αἰδώς in verse 385 means the external and
conventional αἰδώς, i.e., the increased attention to her reputation, which
will subsequently lead Phaedra to committing the crime against Hippolytus,
then this moral reasoning of the heroine turns out to be dramatically
absurd. It appears that Phaedra has seen from her own experience the
danger of this external αἰδώς that forced her to make an unnecessary
confession. Apparently, she intends to avoid such errors in the future:
indicative of this is both the tone of her speech75 and the logical connection
of her general moral reasonings with the second part of the monologue.
Why then does Phaedra repeat her error and slander her stepson, saving her
reputation? It might be assumed that the ‘bad’ αἰδώς once again acts in the
same way as it did in the former instance, subduing the heroine’s will and
preventing her from acting in conformity with her right conscious
intentions (γνώµη). However, whereas in the former instance, in her
conversation with the Nurse, the manifestation of ἀκρασία (‘lack of self-
control’) was evident enough (Phaedra knew that she should not have
confessed and tried to avoid making the confession yet gave in to αἰδώς),
there is no ἀκρασία whatsoever in the situation of her slandering
Hippolytus. Phaedra consciously ruins Hippolytus, believing that this
action is of moral good for her:
I have discovered a means for coping with this disaster so that I may
bequeath to my sons a life of good repute and myself win some benefit in
the face of present events. For I shall never disgrace my Cretan home nor
shall I go to face Theseus with shameful deeds charged against me if only
one life stands in the way. (716–21)
Finally, the same objection can be made against interpreting the two
αἰδώς as ‘external’ and ‘internal’ as against relating δισσαί (‘two’) to ἡδοναί
(‘pleasures’): if the two αἰδώς are understood to mean two sorts that are
different in their content, then Phaedra’s phrase implying the circumstances
and the right moment (καιρός) to be a distinguishing criterion of the bad
and good αἰδώς becomes meaningless. The external and conventional αἰδώς
would always be bad, the internal and moral αἰδώς is always good, and
the understanding of the right moment for each of them would be
unnecessary.
Dodds’s article gave rise to another error that is to be found in most
studies of the passage being discussed – the search for an indispensable
connection between αἰδώς and certain positive pleasures. Quite rightly
including αἰδώς among the pleasures named by Phaedra, Dodds decided to
53
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 54
Chapter 3
find grounds for such an unconventional characterization of this feeling.
Since he sees the overall meaning of the tragedy in depicting suppressed
sexuality, he projects this meaning on Phaedra’s reasoning as well. In his
opinion, the ‘bad’ conventional αἰδώς displayed by Phaedra in verse 335 is
characterized as a pleasure, since it provides a vent for the suppressed
desire for erotic confession: ‘To Phaedra the conventional σέβας of the
suppliant furnishes the necessary excuse for satisfying the thwarted desire
for confession, and so taking the first step towards that abyss which a part
of her nature craves. Only on this supposition, it seems to me, can we
explain her speaking of αἰδώς as a dangerous ἡδονή, as a temptation.’ 76
Convincing arguments against this opinion have been formulated by
Kovacs. In the first place, Phaedra’s concealed desire to tell about her
passion, presumed by Dodds, is mentioned nowhere in the text, so this
view is based on a rather arbitrary Freudian understanding of the heroine’s
psychology. The main objection, however, is that Dodds confuses the
accidental and the essential. The connection between respect for a
suppliant’s request and satisfaction of a desire, which he proposes, is
accidental and not essential – not unlike, for example, the case where, if I
have to attend a dinner party and use this social obligation as a pretext for
eating and drinking to my heart’s content, it would be wrong to describe
my very feeling of social obligation and not food and drink as a dangerous
pleasure and temptation.77
A more subtle explanation of why the ‘conventional’ αἰδώς in verse 335
can be described as a pleasure has been proposed by Segal. In his opinion,
this αἰδώς is one of the social pleasures: Phaedra is pleased to win the
approval of those around her, having met the conventions adopted in
society.78 If we reason abstractly, this interpretation is not subject to the
objection raised against Dodds’s idea. The approval of the people around
her may well be linked with αἰδώς by an essential and not accidental
connection. This explanation, however, absolutely does not agree with the
dramatic development of the scene between Phaedra and the Nurse.
Instead of approval, Phaedra hears words of horror from the Nurse and
the Chorus,79 which only increase her sufferings, so any kind of ‘social
pleasure’ is out of the question here. The heroine anticipates such a reaction
(κάκ᾽, ὦ τάλαινα, σοὶ τάδ᾽, εἰ πεύσῃ, κακά ‘To learn the truth, poor woman,
will be your doom,’ 327) and therefore tries to avoid making a confession
until the last moment. Certainly, it is not Phaedra’s fulfilling of her social
obligation but the content of her confession that brings about the Nurse’s
negative reaction, yet nonetheless the entire scene is so much subjected to
a single emotion, the emotion of grief and horror, that seeing any pleasure
whatsoever in it is utterly impossible.
54
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 55
αἰδώς and the ambivalence of virtue
The very striving of Dodds and Segal to relate αἰδώς with some pleasures
accompanying the manifestation of this feeling appears to me erroneous.
Phaedra describes αἰδώς itself as a pleasure, and it is worthwhile to find out
why this turns out to be possible.
In the Greek language, the concept of ἡδονή, ‘pleasure,’ was particularly
closely linked with ἐπιθυµία, ‘desire’: satisfaction of desire presupposed
pleasure.80 By characterizing αἰδώς as ἡδονή, Phaedra emphasizes that a
manifestation of αἰδώς in an action gives rise to a craving for it the
satisfaction of which, just as the satisfaction of any desire, brings pleasure.
Dodds is right in linking ἡδονή with satisfaction of desires, yet he is wrong
in trying to see other desires in Phaedra in addition to her desire to manifest
αἰδώς. In verse 335, Phaedra experiences precisely this need, which
she then satisfies and therefore can describe her action as a concession
to pleasure.
Apparently, contrary to Segal’s opinion, ‘pleasure’ carries no particular
emotional meaning in this case. The entire scene of Phaedra’s conversation
with the Nurse has an exclusively negative coloring and leaves no room
for any positive pleasure. The heroine includes her αἰδώς among pleasures
only in order to show that it is an object of desire, moreover, of a bad desire
acting in spite of a rational moral will (γνώµη).
Let us now sum up some interim results. Phaedra calls αἰδώς pleasure,
yet not because it is linked to some particular pleasure but in order to
represent it as the object of a nonrational craving, i.e., as a temptation.
Thus this concept is introduced into the traditional antithesis of conscious
moral will and pleasure (γνώµη/ἡδονή) describing the state of ‘lack of self-
control’ (ἀκρασία). Then it would be natural to assume that Phaedra’s
reasoning bears some relation to her erroneous behavior in the preceding
scene with the Nurse; probably, it refers to the αἰδώς in verse 335. It now
remains to clarify what meaning precisely the heroine implies in the
concept of bad αἰδώς, in what way it is opposed to moral good (τὸ καλόν),
and what Phaedra means in speaking about two sorts of αἰδώς.
We begin with the last of these questions. I have tried to show that
viewing good and bad αἰδώς as an opposition between inner true and outer
conventional virtue is impossible for several reasons at once. Moreover, the
two sorts of αἰδώς mentioned by Phaedra cannot be different in their
content at all, for then the phrase about the ‘moment’ (καιρός) becomes
devoid of meaning: εἰ δ’ ὁ καιρὸς ἦν σαφής, / οὐκ ἂν δύ᾽ ἤστην ταὔτ᾽ ἔχοντε
γράµµατα ‘If the right moment were always clear, there would not be two
things designated by the same letters’ (386–7). Only καιρός, i.e., the moment
in time or the circumstances in which αἰδώς is displayed, serves as a
criterion for distinguishing between good and bad αἰδώς. If Phaedra cannot
55
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 56
Chapter 3
divide αἰδώς by its content, she must oppose them to each other in terms
of the evaluative attribute alone. In other words, there are two αἰδώς, since
αἰδώς can be either good or bad, and it turns out to be the one or the other
depending on the circumstances. If it were clear in what circumstances
αἰδώς should and in what circumstances it should not be manifested, there
would not be two of them: given the right understanding of the moment,
every case of αἰδώς would be good and right.
Let us now see what relation the phrase about two sorts of αἰδώς can
bear to the preceding scene of the tragedy and how αἰδώς can be bad.
Barrett81 has proposed comparing Phaedra’s phrase with a passage from
Hesiod’s Works and Days in which the idea of ambivalence of αἰδώς is also
stated. Hesiod urges men to grow rich through work without obeying the
unnecessary αἰδώς – a feeling which sometimes brings one benefit yet
sometimes causes one harm (317–18):
αἰδὼς δ’ οὐκ ἀγαθὴ κεχρηµένον ἄνδρα κοµίζει,
αἰδώς, ἥ τ᾽ ἄνδρας µέγα σίνεται ἠδ᾽ ὀνίνησιν.
An evil αἰδώς is the needy man’s companion, αἰδώς which both greatly
harms and prospers men.
Hesiod contrasts this bad αἰδώς accompanying poverty with confidence
(θάρσος) related to wealth: αἰδώς τοι πρὸς ἀνολβίῃ, θάρσος δὲ πρὸς ὄλβῳ ‘αἰδώς
is with poverty, but confidence with wealth’ (319). Apparently, Hesiod
means such a connotation of αἰδώς as indecisiveness and lack of resolution
– a state making a man hesitate and hindering him from acting on his own
initiative.82
Transferring this meaning of αἰδώς to its usage in Phaedra’s monologue,
Barrett suggests that Phaedra thus describes her character in general and
all of her behavior: ‘She knows that this indecisiveness, this lack of
resolution, is her besetting fault, and she names and dwells on it here
because it prevents her from fighting down her love as she knows she
should.’ 83 In addition to her insufficient resistance to her passion, Barrett
finds other examples of the heroine’s indecisiveness: she procrastinates in
committing suicide, allows the Nurse to draw her secret from her and does
not stop the Nurse from having a talk with Hippolytus, even though she
is aware of the Nurse’s intentions of bringing them together.
It is hard to agree with this interpretation. Firstly, the word αἰδώς in itself
can hardly denote ‘indecisiveness.’ In Hesiod, ‘indecisiveness’ turns out to
be just a connotation that αἰδώς acquires in a certain rather specific
situation. As a matter of fact, αἰδώς in Hesiod means, just as always, one’s
attention towards others’ social status, but the poet stresses that, in poor
people’s situation, this attention may manifest itself in their excessive
56
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 57
αἰδώς and the ambivalence of virtue
feeling of their own low status, which deprives them of necessary confidence
and initiative.84 Thus, the semantic hint of ‘indecisiveness,’ enabling Hesiod
to contrast αἰδώς with θάρσος ‘confidence,’ is only an accompanying
meaning following in certain situations from the main and usual meaning
of αἰδώς – a social feeling manifesting itself in one’s attention to other
people’s status. Hesiod’s αἰδώς is inapplicable to Phaedra’s situation and
behavior. Even if she actually behaves indecisively, in most of the cases
indicated by Barrett this indecisiveness does not result from her attention
towards others and therefore can by no means be called αἰδώς. It would be
absurd to say that αἰδώς hinders Phaedra in her struggle against her passion
or keeps her from immediately committing suicide.
Incidentally, one can also hardly agree with Barrett that Phaedra’s
behavior is distinguished by indecisiveness. Certainly, we may view her
actions in this way, yet we have no reasons to believe that this is precisely
the way that the author himself intends to represent them. In Barrett’s
opinion, had it not been for her weakness and indecisiveness, Phaedra
could have overcome her passion. Yet Euripides, on the contrary,
constantly stresses that the heroine is making every possible effort to resist
her love. Indeed, she fails in her attempts to overcome her love, yet it is not
her ‘indecisiveness’ but Aphrodite’s strength and insuperability which is
the cause of it. In her central monologue, Phaedra tells about her attempts
to resist her passion (393–9) and, when speaking about the fruitlessness of
these attempts, makes a rather illustrative metonymic replacement, using
the name of Aphrodite instead of the usual designations of love: τοισίδ᾽ οὐκ
ἐξήνυτον / Κύπριν κρατῆσαι ‘With these means I was unable to master
Aphrodite’ (400–1). By this trope, Phaedra emphasizes that the force
opposing her is a deity and, being a deity, it by far exceeds human faculties
so that a human being cannot in principle prevail over it (cf. the Nurse’s
words: Κύπρις γὰρ οὐ φορητός, ἢν πολλὴ ῥυῇ ‘Aphrodite, if she streams upon
us in great force, cannot be endured,’ 443).85
Nor is it possible to accuse Phaedra of procrastinating in committing
suicide. It is only after her confession to the Nurse, at the moment when
she is delivering her large monologue, that she comes to the final decision
to commit suicide. This follows from her own words. At first, she tried to
overcome her passion by concealing it with silence (393–4). Only when
these attempts failed, i.e., when she let her secret out, did Phaedra decide
to die (400–2). After that, the Nurse tries unsuccessfully to dissuade her
from her intention and finally succeeds in delaying the suicide, suggesting
a medicine that will allegedly free Phaedra from her malady (509 ff.).
It would be strange if Phaedra rejected this life-saving solution and
preferred immediate death; naturally, she agrees to resort to the medicine
57
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 58
Chapter 3
but, as soon as she discovers the Nurse’s deception and realizes that her
secret has become known to Hippolytus, she immediately kills herself. I see
no excessive procrastination and indecisiveness here.
In Barrett’s opinion, Phaedra displayed shyness and indecisiveness,
having accepted the Nurse’s suggestion to use the medicine, even though
she could guess what the true essence of that medicine was – not to cure
her of her passion but to bring her together with Hippolytus. Indeed,
Phaedra suspects the Nurse of such plans, voicing her apprehensions in her
phrases δέδοιχ’ ὅπως µοι µὴ λίαν φανῇς σοφή ‘I fear you’ll prove too clever for
my good’ (518) and µή µοί τι Θησέως τῶνδε µηνύσῃς τόκῳ ‘(I am afraid of)
your telling some word of this to Theseus’ son’ (520). However, she utters
these phrases precisely in order to make certain of the rightness and
honesty of the Nurse’s intentions, and the Nurse responds by reassuring
her: ἔασον, ὦ παῖ· ταῦτ᾽ ἐγὼ θήσω καλῶς ‘Dismiss the thought, my child.
I shall arrange this business well’ (521). The apparent dramatic purpose of
the dialogue is to show that the Nurse’s subsequent actions contradict
Phaedra’s wishes. It is only with the help of equivocal phrases – phrases
which for Phaedra describe a love medicine but with which the Nurse
speaks about her love union with Hippolytus – that the Nurse succeeds in
convincing Phaedra.86 If there still remain some doubts that Phaedra is not
aware of the Nurse’s scheme, they are removed by Artemis’s words in the
exodos shifting the responsibility entirely to the Nurse: τροφοῦ διώλετ᾽ οὐχ
ἑκοῦσα µηχαναῖς ‘She was destroyed all unwitting by the contrivances of her
Nurse’ (1305). To speak about Phaedra’s indecisiveness in this situation
would be as erroneous as to ascribe to her a hidden sympathy with the
Nurse’s true intentions. This quite popular interpretation of this scene is
rightly contested by Barrett himself: ‘Those who believe that Ph. consented
in the end to the Nurse’s scheme are doing so in the face of the poet’s own
denial: Art. has no axe to grind for Ph., and her judgement here is certainly
the poet’s own.’ 87 This argument, however, also applies to Barrett’s own
statement about the indecisiveness allegedly displayed by the heroine in
this scene.
It should be noted that Barrett’s point of view is largely determined by
the interpretation of the passage about two kinds of αἰδώς, which is found
in Plutarch’s On Moral Virtue, 448f–449a. Barrett refers to Plutarch’s words
as the ‘best commentary’ on the passage from Phaedra’s speech.
Plutarch says the following:
ὁ δ᾽ εἰπών
αἰδώς τε· δισσαὶ δ᾽ εἰσίν, ἡ µὲν οὐ κακὴ
ἡ δ᾽ ἄχθος οἴκων
ἆρ’ οὐ δῆλός ἐστι συνῃσθηµένος ἐν ἑαυτῷ τοῦτο τὸ πάθος πολλάκις µὲν
58
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 59
αἰδώς and the ambivalence of virtue
ἀκολουθοῦν τῷ λόγῳ καὶ συγκατακοσµούµενον, πολλάκις δὲ παρὰ τὸν λόγον
ὄκνοις καὶ µελλήσεσι καιροὺς καὶ πράγµατα λυµαινόµενον;
Is it not apparent that he who said the words,
Yet αἰδώς are of two sorts, one being no bad thing,
Another a burden upon houses,
felt in himself this emotion, often well-ordered and in line with reason yet
often contrary to reason, leading to indecisiveness and delays and thus
ruining right moments and good works?
Even if we leave aside the Stoic ideas underlying this interpretation (the
Stoic antithesis of ἀκολουθοῦν τῷ λόγῳ ‘in line with reason’ and παρὰ τὸν
λόγον ‘contrary to reason’ presented here cannot generally distort the
meaning of the passage from Euripides), we cannot help but note that
Plutarch, in his interpretation, proceeds from the wrong understanding of
the next phrase about καιρός, the ‘right moment,’ which he does not quote.
What Plutarch sees in Phaedra’s words εἰ δ᾽ ὁ καιρὸς ἦν σαφής ‘If the moment
were clear,’ is not an indication of a criterion distinguishing good from bad
αἰδώς but a characterization of the consequence resulting from bad αἰδώς.
According to his interpretation, the uncertainty of καιρός does not lead to
erroneous manifestations of αἰδώς but, on the contrary, is caused by them:
bad αἰδώς, according to him, ‘ruins καιρός’ (καιροὺς καὶ πράγµατα λυµαινόµενον),
i.e., hinders correct evaluating and observing it. It is precisely on this
singular interpretation that the understanding of αἰδώς as a feeling leading
to indecisiveness and delays (ὄκνοις καὶ µελλήσεσι) is based.
Thus, the meaning of ‘indecisiveness’ is as impossible for bad αἰδώς as
the meaning of external and conventional virtue. And yet one of the
examples of bad αἰδώς given by Barrett appears to me to be quite right. It
is Phaedra’s concession to the Nurse’s entreaties, which manifested itself
in her love confession. Firstly, Phaedra’s response to the Nurse’s request
is a typical example of αἰδώς and is directly named as αἰδώς by the heroine
herself. Secondly, her behavior in this scene is clearly depicted by the
author as ἀκρασία, i.e., the very state that she describes in her monologue.
Phaedra is aware that she should not confess; her entire conscious will is
directed towards keeping the secret, but nonetheless she yields to the
temptation of αἰδώς.
A correlation of bad αἰδώς with Phaedra’s behavior in the scene with
the Nurse makes it possible to understand the entire extraordinary list of
ἡδοναί in her moral reasoning in her large monologue. This list characterizes
her own state, and each preceding pleasure in it is related to the next
one as more general to more particular and as a premise to an inference.
Barrett is right in commenting on these examples: ‘Her examples are
so untypical a collection that we recognize them at once for what
59
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 60
Chapter 3
they are – the temptations of her cloistered life; her generalizations are, for
all their generality, conceived with her own circumstances and character
in mind.’ 88 These examples, however, do not simply describe Phaedra’s life
in general: they ever more clearly link this reasoning with the preceding
scene. ‘Idleness’ or ‘laziness’ (ἀργία) is the most general negative factor.
Apparently, it is introduced as an antithesis to the word ἐκπονοῦµευ, ‘we do
not make efforts,’ next to which it is named (οὐκ ἐκπονοῦµεν δ᾽, οἱ µὲν ἀργίας
ὕπο ‘we do not make efforts and bring it to completion, some from
laziness,’ 381): ἐκπονεῖν presupposes efforts, and ἀργία the absence of
efforts. σχολή, ‘leisure,’ is similar to ἀργία; however, it carries not a general
psychological but a particular situational meaning and is, in its turn,
a circumstance and condition for an even more particular factor,
µακραὶ λέσχαι (‘long talks’), referring one to Phaedra’s conversation with
the Nurse (it would be more logical first to name ‘leisure,’ σχολή, and
only then ‘long talks,’ µακραὶ λέσχαι; by interchanging them, Euripides
builds a hysteron proteron figure). Finally, ‘long talks’ are the same kind of
circumstance and condition for the main temptation, αἰδώς, i.e., Phaedra’s
concession to the Nurse’s entreaties that occurred in the course of
the conversation.
The interpretation of bad αἰδώς in connection with verse 335 appears to
me the most apparent and simple. In principle, it also underlies the
viewpoint of Dodds, Segal and Cairns, whose error is only that they
incorrectly presuppose some substantive difference between bad and good
αἰδώς. Nor am I sure, for that matter, of the rightness of their idea that
good αἰδώς should refer to verse 244. Seeing such a reference is in principle
possible but hardly necessary. The purport of Phaedra’s words about
αἰδώς is to show that this feeling, which is normally good and generally
recognized as a virtue, is sometimes, on the contrary, at variance with moral
good. Barrett has reasonably noted that ‘it is only with this bad αἰδώς, of
course, that Ph. is concerned (she mentions the good one merely for the
sake of distinction).’ 89 Indicative of this is both the negative definition of
good αἰδώς as ‘not bad’ (οὐ κακή), the only meaning of which is to precede
the words about bad αἰδώς, and the logic of Phaedra’s entire reasoning as
a whole. First, the heroine describes moral good (τὰ χρηστά, τὸ καλόν), to
which the conscious will (γνώµη) of most people is turned, and then lists the
negative factors impeding the implementation of that will, naming αἰδώς
among them. The function of the next phrase about two αἰδώς is solely to
explain how it can be that αἰδώς, which is normally regarded as a virtue,
turns out to be among negative factors: the fact is that it is not always
good and right, and sometimes it turns out to be evil. This phrase excludes
good αἰδώς from among the unreasonable pleasures that she considers and
60
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 61
αἰδώς and the ambivalence of virtue
leaves the only one that is of interest to Phaedra – bad αἰδώς, i.e., the one
that she displayed in verse 335.
The arguments presented above appear to allow me to make a number
of inferences determining my interpretation of the passage being examined:
1) logical emphasis in Phaedra’s reasoning falls upon bad αἰδώς;
2) bad αἰδώς is called a pleasure in order to show it as a dangerous
temptation;
3) bad αἰδώς does not essentially differ from good αἰδώς; they may be
perfectly similar manifestations of social feeling; it is only different in terms
of the circumstances of its manifestation: in some circumstances it is
appropriate, and then it is good, whereas in other circumstances it is
inappropriate, and then it is bad;
4) an example of bad αἰδώς is Phaedra’s confession to the Nurse in
response to her insistent requests.
The essence of Phaedra’s reasoning may be paraphrased as follows.
αἰδώς, a normally good and worthy feeling, turns out to be evil in certain
situations and in a certain set of circumstances; the desire to display
αἰδώς becomes then a dangerous temptation that must be resisted, when
remaining true to one’s conscious moral decisions. Phaedra is sorry to have
yielded to the temptation of αἰδώς in the preceding scene and intends not
to make such errors in future.
This interpretation of Phaedra’s words makes it possible to draw a
parallel between this passage and a passage from Medea where the idea of
ambivalence of αἰδώς is also put forward. From my point of view, the
ambivalence of αἰδώς has nearly the same meaning in Medea as in Hippolytus,
the more so as it is stated in a similar dramatic situation.90
In the first epeisodion of Medea, King Creon sentences Medea to
banishment, fearing harm that the enraged heroine may inflict on his
family. Medea asks the king to allow her to stay; having failed to convince
him with her arguments, she makes a supplication to him, accompanying
it with a pleading gesture (µή, πρός σε γονάτων τῆς τε νεογάµου κόρης ‘Do not,
I beg you by your knees and by your newly-wedded daughter,’ 324), and
appeals to his feeling of αἰδώς (ἀλλ᾽ ἐξελᾷς µε κοὐδὲν αἰδέσῃ λιτάς; ‘But will
you banish me without showing αἰδώς for my supplications?’ 326). This
scene correlates both dramatically and lexically with the scene of entreating
Phaedra by the Nurse: cf., e.g., similar reactions by Creon, τί δ᾽ αὖ βιάζῃ
κοὐκ ἀπαλλάσσῃ χερός; ‘Why then are you still applying force and clinging
to my hand?’ Med. 339, and Phaedra, τί δρᾷς; βιάζῃ χειρὸς ἐξαρτωµένη;
‘What are you doing? Aren’t you applying force and clinging to my hand?’
Hipp. 325. Finally, when Medea confines herself to a request to let her stay
at least one day, Creon gives in. When yielding to her supplication, he utters
61
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 62
Chapter 3
a phrase perfectly coinciding in content with Phaedra’s words from her
monologue:
ἥκιστα τοὐµὸν λῆµ’ ἔφυ τυραννικόν,
αἰδούµενος δὲ πολλὰ δὴ διέφθορα·
καὶ νῦν ὁρῶ µὲν ἐξαµαρτάνων, γύναι,
ὅµως δὲ τεύξῃ τοῦδε.
My nature is not at all a tyrant’s, and by showing consideration I have often
suffered loss. And now, though I see that I am making a serious mistake,
nonetheless, woman, you shall have your request. (348–51)
Firstly, Creon speaks here about the same ruinous αἰδώς as Phaedra – about
αἰδώς for a suppliant, compelling one to commit a wrong action. Influenced
by this feeling, he yields to Medea’s supplication in precisely the same way
as Phaedra yields to the supplication of the Nurse. Secondly, the word
διέφθορα in verse 349 is an undoubted parallel to Phaedra’s phrase θνητῶν
ἐφρόντισ᾽ ᾗ διέφθαρται βίος ‘I have pondered...how it is that the lives of
mortals are in ruins’ (Hipp. 376). Finally, what is most interesting of all,
Creon places ruinous αἰδώς into the same description of ἀκρασία (‘lack of
self-control’) as Phaedra: he knows what would be the right thing to do and
is aware that he is making a mistake, yet he makes it anyway, submitting to
the feeling of αἰδώς.
The similarity between the two passages and the two situations is so
evident that it makes one interpret Phaedra’s bad αἰδώς precisely in the
light of this similarity. Moreover, the chronological closeness of the two
tragedies enables us to presume that what we encounter here is an
autoreminiscence, i.e., that the discourse on bad αἰδώς has been transferred
by the author from one tragedy to the other. There is, however, quite a
substantial difference between the statements about αἰδώς in Medea and
Hippolytus.
Creon mentions only practical harm that αἰδώς sometimes causes and
does not put any moral meaning into this concept. Quite the opposite,
αἰδώς is to him always morally good. About his character, in which this
feeling is inherent, he says: ἥκιστα τοὐµὸν λῆµ’ ἔφυ τυραννικόν ‘My nature is
not at all a tyrant’s,’ using the word τυραννικόν, which presupposes
unreserved moral condemnation of a ‘tyrannical character’ that is opposite
to his nature. In the phrase αἰδούµενος δὲ πολλὰ δὴ διέφθορα, the verb διέφθορα
has a solely practical and by no means moral meaning.
The practical ambivalence of αἰδώς was apparently a traditional topos: in
addition to Medea, we should call to mind the above-cited quotation from
Hesiod’s Works and Days, 318, and, finally, the passage from Book 24 of
the Iliad in which the same formula pattern about the duality of αἰδώς is
62
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 63
αἰδώς and the ambivalence of virtue
used – the passage in which Apollo, accusing Achilles, who is disgracing
Hector’s body, of lack of pity and αἰδώς, notes, incidentally, that αἰδώς may
bring both harm and good:
ὣς Ἀχιλεὺς ἔλεον µὲν ἀπώλεσεν, οὐδέ οἱ αἰδὼς
γίγνεται, ἥ τ᾽ ἄνδρας µέγα σίνεται ἠδ᾽ ὀνίνησι.
Even so hath Achilles lost all pity, neither is shame in his heart, the which
harmeth men greatly and profiteth them withal (24.44–5).
Euripides also used it in Erechtheus (fr. 365):
αἰδοῦς δὲ καὐτὸς δυσκρίτως ἔχω πέρι·
καὶ δεῖ γὰρ αὐτῆς κἄστιν αὖ κακὸν µέγα.
I find it too hard to decide about αἰδώς. It is needed, but it is also a great
evil;
though the context does not allow us to decide, what ambivalence, practical
or moral, is meant here.
Phaedra, on the contrary, places this reasoning into the context of a
moral antithesis between conscious moral will (γνώµη) and moral good
(τὸ καλόν), on the one hand, and pleasure, on the other. This transfer of
the utterance about αἰδώς from a practical into a moral context results in a
moral-practical ambiguity of the entire passage from Hippolytus, which was
noticed already by Barrett.91 Phaedra’s reasoning contains either transitions
from the practical to moral meaning or ambivalent expressions allowing
both meanings. In verse 376 θνητῶν ἐφρόντισ᾽ ᾗ διέφθαρται βίος the verb
διέφθαρται, as Barrett notes, ‘could of itself apply either to the ruin of their
fortunes or to the corruption of their ways; it is the latter that Ph. intends,
but her use of the ambiguous word is the more natural in that in her own
case at least the two are inseparately linked.’ 92 In the next phrase, καί µοι
δοκοῦσιν οὐ κατὰ γνώµης φύσιν / πράσσειν κάκιον (377–8), Barrett, being
inclined towards a moral interpretation, changes the manuscript κάκιον
for κακίον᾽, which lends it the meaning ‘they act in a worse way.’ Yet,
considering the existence of a set expression κακῶς πράττειν and the
inseparable unity of the moral and practical meanings present in the entire
reasoning, it is probably worthwhile to leave the traditional reading of
πράσσειν κάκιον as it is and presume a transition to the practical meaning
here (‘they fare worse’). Then, in the sentence ἔστι γὰρ τό γ᾽ εὖ φρονεῖν
πολλοῖσιν ‘many people possess good sense’ the verb εὖ φρονεῖν is ambivalent,
since it may mean both practical and moral wisdom. Similarly, τὰ χρηστά
‘good’ in the next verse (τὰ χρήστ᾽ ἐπιστάµεσθα καὶ γιγνώσκοµεν ‘we know and
understand what is good,’ 380) may acquire both meanings. Only τὸ καλόν
in verse 382 unambiguously indicates the moral meaning, which, however,
63
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 64
Chapter 3
is blanked out in verse 386 by a practical characterization of bad αἰδώς as
ἄχθος οἴκων ‘a burden upon houses.’
This ambiguity of the passage is related to the situation in which Phaedra
is. Her concession to the Nurse both makes her stray from the moral path
she has chosen and, at the same time, leads the heroine to her death.
The moral ambivalence postulated in Phaedra’s monologue and
demonstrated in the preceding scene is a specific feature peculiar to the
moral reality created by Euripides in Hippolytus. The moral ambivalence of
αἰδώς is to be seen not only in the scene of Phaedra’s conversation with the
Nurse or not only in Phaedra’s monologue; however, before examining
the role of ‘double’ αἰδώς in the overall thematic structure of the drama, a
few additional remarks should be made about the immediate dramatic
function of the passage being discussed.
Phaedra recalls thoughts that visited her in the past during long sleepless
nights – thoughts that αἰδώς is not always equally good, that sometimes it
causes harm and impedes moral actions. Her present personal experience
confirms once again the rightness of her former conclusions. Now, having
finally convinced herself of their correctness, she is full of resolution always
in future to follow only her conscious moral will without succumbing to
the temptations of showing αἰδώς. If we look at the heroine’s behavior in
the next scene, the words of her monologue will acquire a sinister sound.
In what, in Phaedra’s view, does τὸ καλόν consist – the moral good for
which she constantly strives and which was contradicted by her bad αἰδώς
in the scene with the Nurse? In not displaying or revealing her passion in
any way – neither in deeds nor in words.
From the very beginning, Phaedra makes no distinction between deeds
and words, between reality and appearance, trying both not to commit a
sin against her husband and, at the same time, not to be condemned for
sinning. To Phaedra, the revelation of her secret and a rumor about her
criminal passion are tantamount to the crime itself, and therefore she gives
a moral meaning to her keeping silent and to concealing her love. It is this
moral meaning attached by the heroine to her silence which enables her to
apply the τὸ καλόν/αἰδώς antithesis to her erroneous action – her concession
to the Nurse.
Now that the secret has become known to her near and dear, namely,
the Nurse and the Chorus, Phaedra chooses a new method of concealing
it – suicide, which will enable her to hide the shame that she feels, having
freed her from the need to look into her husband’s eyes.
Let us, however, look at the further development of this τὸ καλόν/αἰδώς
antithesis. In the second epeisodion, Hippolytus learns Phaedra’s secret
through the Nurse’s fault; he learns it in a distorted form: he believes that
64
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 65
αἰδώς and the ambivalence of virtue
Phaedra has herself sent the Nurse to him, intending to have a clandestine
liaison with him. Hippolytus threatens to reveal the secret to Theseus.
In this new situation, Phaedra continues to assume the same moral position
as she did at the beginning of the play. To her, moral good still consists in
being, and being reputed, chaste. The heroine might now face the problem
of whether to sacrifice moral good and allow further disclosure of her
secret, having become known to be an unfaithful wife (obsessed by fear
and despair, Phaedra does not hear Hippolytus’ belated promise to keep
silent), or to reject αἰδώς and to ruin Hippolytus. She immediately resolves
this problem with the firmness that she acquired after the unfortunate
display of αἰδώς towards the Nurse in the first scene of the tragedy. Now
Phaedra no longer intends to sacrifice τὸ καλόν for the sake of αἰδώς
and therefore she ruins Hippolytus. Phaedra formulates her decision in the
phrase:
οὐ γάρ ποτ᾽ αἰσχυνῶ γε Κρησίους δόµους
οὐδ’ ἐς πρόσωπον Θησέως ἀφίξοµαι
αἰσχροῖς ἐπ᾽ ἔργοις οὕνεκα ψυχῆς µιᾶς.
For I shall never disgrace my Cretan home, nor shall I go to face Theseus
with shameful deeds charged against me if only one life stands in the way
(719–21),
echoing her decision to commit suicide, which she made in her large
monologue in the first epeisodion:
ἡµᾶς γὰρ αὐτὸ τοῦτ᾽ ἀποκτείνει, φίλαι,
ὡς µήποτ᾽ ἄνδρα τὸν ἐµὸν αἰσχύνασ᾽ ἁλῶ
My friends, it is this very purpose that is bringing about my death, that I
may not be detected bringing shame to my husband. (419–20)
This echoing emphasizes the continuity and unity of the heroine’s moral
views throughout the period of her participation in the drama. The unity
of Phaedra’s two decisions – the decision to commit suicide and the
decision to destroy Hippolytus – is also expressed through the double
meaning of the words ψυχῆς µιᾶς.
However, to the same extent that Phaedra’s αἰδώς towards the Nurse
was inappropriate and erroneous in the first scene, her disregard for αἰδώς
is erroneous and criminal now. After the scene with the Nurse, Phaedra
comes to a correct conclusion about the duality of αἰδώς and then,
proceeding from this notion, she rejects αἰδώς in the new situation and
ruins Hippolytus, thus making an opposite mistake. The cause of this
mistake is that καιρός – i.e., the circumstances distinguishing right and good
αἰδώς from bad and erroneous one – still remains unclear to the heroine.
65
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 66
Chapter 3
Using the dramatic possibilities of the genre – the situational dynamics of
the play – Euripides shows by the very development of the action how
καιρός slips away from Phaedra, who always turns out to be too slow in her
assessments and to be falling behind the changing reality.
The passage about double αἰδώς has not only an immediate dramatic
meaning but a more general meaning as well. In her reasoning, Phaedra
analyzes the particular situation in which she found herself in the first
epeisodion; however, the pattern that she creates proves to be applicable
to other dramatic situations as well, thus becoming a general law
characterizing the moral world of the tragedy.
The γνώµη/ἡδονή antithesis is specific to Phaedra, whose behavior is
motivated above all by her conscious moral will that opposes emotions
and temptations. However, as far as the central moral idea of this passage
is concerned that of duality of αἰδώς and its dependence on καιρός, it is
applicable to nearly all the actions of all the characters.
In the first place, it should be noted that τὸ καλόν – preservation of
chastity in actions and of the reputation of a chaste wife – for which
Phaedra strives in her actions is also a typical case of αἰδώς. The very word
αἰδώς in the meaning of ‘chastity’ was used by Hippolytus in the prologue
of the play (verse 78). Then, at the beginning of the first epeisodion,
Phaedra appears on the scene with her head covered – a characteristic detail
expressing αἰδώς. Having uncovered her head for a while, the heroine is
immediately deprived of the restraining power of her chastity and turns
out to be incapable of resisting the outpouring of her half-mad dreams of
getting into Hippolytus’ world; then, feeling ashamed of her involuntary
outburst, she asks that her head be covered again, uttering the verb
αἰδεῖσθαι (αἰδούµεθα γὰρ τὰ λελεγµένα µοι, 244). The suicide which the heroine
decides to commit in order to hide from shame and avoid looking into her
husband’s eyes, is still another example of the very same chaste αἰδώς
(δαίµονα στυγνὸν καταιδεσθεῖσα, 772). Finally, the same αἰδώς manifests itself
in her crime against Hippolytus, which Phaedra commits aiming to preserve
her reputation and conceal her sinful love from people’s eyes. Thus, the
motif of Phaedra’s ‘chaste’ αἰδώς develops according to the same law as
the motif, examined above, of αἰδώς manifesting itself in respect for others:
in some circumstances, this αἰδώς turns out to be good and at other
moments, bad and criminal, while Phaedra is incapable of bringing her
actions into line with changing circumstances.
In addition to showing one and the same αἰδώς as morally dual,
Euripides deliberately throws two αἰδώς, different in their content, against
each other. In the first epeisodion, Phaedra is faced with a choice of
whether she should keep the secret and thus save her reputation as a chaste
66
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 67
αἰδώς and the ambivalence of virtue
wife or yield to the Nurse’s entreaties, having displayed αἰδώς for a suppliant.
By satisfying the Nurse’s request, the heroine sacrifices αἰδώς for
the sake of αἰδώς. Thus the author creates a conflict between different
manifestations of the same social virtue and emphasizes this conflict by
the echoing between the usages of the word αἰδώς in verse 244 (‘chaste’
αἰδώς) and 335 (αἰδώς as respect for requests). A similar conflict arises
further on when Phaedra ruins Hippolytus for the sake of her reputation,
once again sacrificing one αἰδώς for the sake of the other.
The behavior of other characters is built according to the same model.
In the prologue, Hippolytus displays piety towards Artemis, showing
virtue, which was also one of the common meanings of αἰδώς. However,
this piety and his particular attention to his chastity, related to his love for
Artemis, prevent the hero from treating Aphrodite with the same
veneration; thus, one manifestation of εὐσέβεια rules out the other and leads
to its opposite – to ἀσέβεια and to ὕβρις against the goddess. Nor does his
devotion to the ideal of chastity, i.e., one case of αἰδώς, allow Hippolytus
to pay proper respect to women associated in his mind with loose
conduct – that is, it rules out for him the other manifestation of αἰδώς.
It is precisely for this reason, because of his αἰδώς, that Hippolytus hurls
unjust accusations at women, has no doubts about Phaedra’s bad
intentions and is even ready to break the oath given by him to the Nurse.
Finally, in the third epeisodion, being true to his promise – which is also a
typical example of αἰδώς – and therefore keeping silent, Hippolytus
sacrifices his reputation – precisely the form of αἰδώς in the name of which
Phaedra has ruined him.
The same choice between two opposite requirements of αἰδώς is made
by the Nurse. Her entire behavior is determined by the feeling of φιλία that
she has for her mistress, and is therefore also an example of αἰδώς. The
Nurse cannot control and suppress this feeling, as she herself admits at the
beginning of the first epeisodion (254–60). Under the impact of this feeling,
the Nurse breaks the requirements of another αἰδώς, chastity, and tries to
bring her mistress together with Hippolytus.
A similar conflict between two αἰδώς is characteristic of the behavior of
Theseus, who hastily punishes his son for his sin, proceeding from the idea
of chastity (cf. Theseus’ accusatory monologue, 936–80, the main and only
subject of which is chastity), but disregards established procedure in doing
so and thus fails to respect Hippolytus’ right of defense.
Thus, in Hippolytus we find a singular representation of a conflict of
values. Euripides brings into collision with one another values associated
with the same virtue – the social feeling. Nearly every action of the
characters turns out to be erroneous and morally wrong, yet it is not from
67
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 68
Chapter 3
their unchastity and bad moral will but from their inability to make the
right choice between different, and often opposite, demands of virtue that
this immorality proceeds. Moral errors are thus caused not by the specific
traits of one character or another but by the contradictory and dual nature
of the social virtue itself.
In Hippolytus, not only does αἰδώς motivate immoral actions, but it also
leads to a disaster. Above we could see how Euripides joined together the
two themes of the moral and practical danger of αἰδώς in Phaedra’s reasoning
in her large monologue. The latter theme finds particular expression in a
thematic connection between αἰδώς and death set forth in the drama. As
early as the parodos, the Chorus, telling about Phaedra’s illness, gives
certain details of the heroine’s behavior bringing up an association with
αἰδώς. She covers her head: λεπτὰ δὲ φάρη ξανθὰν κεφαλὰν σκιάζειν, ‘fine-spun
cloths cover her blond head’ 133–4; she ‘has kept her body pure of Demeter’s
grain’ (∆άµατρος ἀκτᾶς δέµας ἁγνὸν ἴσχειν, 138), i.e., has been fasting.93 At the
same time, the Chorus connects this behavior with a death wish:
κρυπτῷ πάθει θανάτου θέλουσαν
κέλσαι ποτὶ τέρµα δύστανον
wishing because of some secret grief to ground her life’s craft in the
unhappy journey’s-end of death. (139–40)
In the first epeisodion, Phaedra, feeling ashamed of her unwitting mad
confessions, states her intention to die immediately after the words
about αἰδώς (αἰδούµεθα γὰρ τὰ λελεγµένα µοι, 244): ἀλλὰ κρατεῖ µὴ γιγνώσκοντ᾽
ἀπολέσθαι ‘Best is to perish in unconsciousness’ (248–9). In response, the
Nurse tells her that she herself would also like to die, so strong does her
love (φιλία) for her mistress make her empathize with Phaedra:
τὸ δ᾽ ἐµὸν πότε δὴ θάνατος
σῶµα καλύψει;
πολλὰ διδάσκει µ᾽ ὁ πολὺς βίοτος·
χρῆν γὰρ µετρίας εἰς ἀλλήλους
φιλίας θνητοὺς ἀνακίρνασθαι
But when will my body be covered in death? My long life has taught me
many lessons: mortals should not mix the cup of their affection to one
another too strong (250–4),
thus similarly linking her variety of αἰδώς with death. Phaedra’s decision to
commit suicide, at which she arrives in her great monologue, is represented
by her as stemming from αἰδώς (δαίµονα στυγνὸν καταιδεσθεῖσα, 772).
While αἰδώς leads the characters to death, at the same time death turns
out to be a force releasing αἰδώς from its moral ambivalence in the finale
68
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 69
αἰδώς and the ambivalence of virtue
of the drama. This resolution proceeds gradually, beginning in the fourth
epeisodion.
The entire third epeisodion was still full of moral ambiguity. Hippolytus,
innocent and heroically keeping his oath of silence, appeared in his father’s
eyes as a perpetrator of a terrible ὕβρις – rape of his stepmother. Phaedra’s
chastity was combined with her slander of Hippolytus, which determined
the entire dramatic development of this scene. Finally, Theseus, guided
by the idea of αἰδώς in punishing Hippolytus, himself unwittingly falls
into ὕβρις.
Theseus’ ὕβρις continues at the beginning of the fourth epeisodion,
when the Messenger bringing the news of the terrible fate that befell his
son appears before him. Having heard the Messenger’s words Ἱππόλυτος
οὐκέτ᾽ ἔστιν, ὡς εἰπεῖν ἔπος ‘Hippolytus is dead, as good as dead’ (1162),
Theseus at first contemptuously comments on the news:
πρὸς τοῦ; δι᾽ ἔχθρας µῶν τις ἦν ἀφιγµένος,
ὅτου κατῄσχυν᾽ ἄλοχον ὡς πατρὸς βίᾳ;
Who killed him? Did someone have a quarrel with him whose wife he
ravished as he did his father’s? (1163–4)
Then, triumphant, he thanks Poseidon for fulfilling his wish:
ὦ θεοὶ Πόσειδόν θ᾽, ὡς ἄρ’ ἦσθ᾽ ἐµὸς πατὴρ
ὀρθῶς, ἀκούσας τῶν ἐµῶν κατευγµάτων.
Merciful gods! So you were after all truly my father, Poseidon, since you
have heard my prayer. (1169–70)
Later on, in the exodos, Artemis would recall this joy of Theseus with
condemnation: Θησεῦ, τί τάλας τοῖσδε συνήδῃ; ‘Why, Theseus, unhappy man,
do you take joy in these things?’ (1286). This joy from the humiliation and
death of an enemy was a widespread topos in Greek tragedy and often
served as an indication of ὕβρις: such is, for example, Clytemnestra’s
triumph after the murder of Agamemnon in Aeschylus’ Agamemnon
(1372–98), or the joy of Ajax, who believes that he has killed the sons of
Atreus and can brutalize the captured Odysseus, in Sophocles’s Ajax
(96–113).
However, after the Messenger’s detailed account of the circumstances
of Hippolytus’ ruin (1173–1254), Theseus changes his attitude towards
what has happened. His triumph and ὕβρις wear off, and now he manifests
αἰδώς:
µίσει µὲν ἀνδρὸς τοῦ πεπονθότος τάδε
λόγοισιν ἥσθην τοῖσδε· νῦν δ᾽ αἰδούµενος
69
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 70
Chapter 3
θεούς τ᾽ ἐκεῖνόν θ᾽, οὕνεκ᾽ ἐστὶν ἐξ ἐµοῦ,
οὔθ’ ἥδοµαι τοῖσδ οὔτ᾽ ἐπάχθοµαι κακοῖς.
For hatred of the man who has suffered these things I took pleasure at your
words. But now, feeling αἰδώς for the gods and for this man, since he is my
son, I feel neither pleasure nor pain at these misfortunes. (1257–60)
This αἰδώς manifested by Theseus marks a significant point in the
development of this motif. Up to this point, αἰδώς and ὕβρις have been
inseparably linked with each other in the play, and now they for the first
time appear as unambiguous and absolute concepts separated from each
other by the story of what in fact is Hippolytus’ death. This clarification of
αἰδώς, from now on separated from ὕβρις, a clarification occurring at the
moment when the hero meets his death, is preparatory for the appearance
of this feeling in the exodos, where it plays a key part, being now devoid
of any moral ambivalence.
In the fourth epeisodion, αἰδώς only kept Theseus from hybristic joy
without giving rise in him to any regret about what has happened. Now, in
the exodos, when Theseus learns the whole truth and sees before him his
dying son whom he has unjustly destroyed, this feeling goes to the extreme,
turning into repentance and grief (1408–10).
Responding to Theseus’ repentance is Hippolytus’ forgiveness. This
action is also a manifestation of αἰδώς. The word αἰδώς is used in the
context of forgiveness, for example, in orator Antiphon, 1.26. It is worth
noting that Antiphon speaks here about αἰδώς which should not be
displayed towards a person who has committed a deliberate crime, i.e.,
inscribes this concept in the same context of involuntary errors and their
justification as Euripides:
Ἡ µὲν ἑκουσίως καὶ βουλεύσασα ἀπέκτεινεν...πῶς οὖν ταύτην ἐλεεῖν ἄξιόν
ἐστιν ἢ αἰδοῦς τυγχάνειν παρ’ ὑµῶν ἢ ἄλλου του, ἥτις αὐτὴ οὐκ ἠξίωσεν
ἐλεῆσαι τὸν ἑαυτῆς ἄνδρα, ἀλλ’ ἀνοσίως καὶ αἰσχρῶς ἀπώλεσεν;
She was the willful murderess who compassed his death... What pity, then,
what respect (αἰδώς) does a woman who refused to pity her own husband,
who killed him impiously and shamefully, deserve from you or anyone else?
Plato in Laws 867e, discussing punishment for murderers who committed
their crime in a state of rage, prescribes exile for them for a certain period
upon the lapse of which judges are to decide the question of their pardon
and their return to the homeland; pardon is regarded here as manifestation
of respect (αἰδώς):
ἐπειδὰν δὲ ὁ χρόνος ἔλθῃ τῆς φυγῆς ἑκατέρῳ, πέµπειν αὐτῶν δικαστὰς δώδεκα
ἐπὶ τοὺς ὅρους τῆς χώρας, ἐσκεµµένους ἐν τῷ χρόνῳ τούτῳ τὰς τῶν φυγόντων
70
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 71
αἰδώς and the ambivalence of virtue
πράξεις ἔτι σαφέστερον, καὶ τῆς αἰδοῦς τε πέρι καὶ καταδοχῆς τούτων
δικαστὰς γίγνεσθαι
When the period of exile in each case has elapsed, they must send twelve of
their number to the borders of the country to act as judges – they having
made during the interval a still closer investigation into the actions of the
exiles; and these men shall serve also as judges in regard to the matter of
treating them as deserving of respect.
This context in Plato reminds one of the technical usage of the verb αἰδοῦµαι
and its derivative noun αἴδεσις in Athenian legislation, where they acquired
the terminological meaning of pardon granted to an exiled murderer.
This special form of αἰδώς, appearing in Hippolytus at the moment of the
hero’s death, becomes the final point in the development of this motif,
turning out to be its most authentic and pure form in contrast to all the
previous ambivalent manifestations of this feeling.
In terms of its content, the final αἰδώς is fundamentally different from
those cases of αἰδώς, which we encountered throughout the main part of
the drama. The singularity of αἰδώς expressing itself in forgiveness was
correctly noted by Cairns.94 Normally αἰδώς presupposes the existence of
certain already-set social links and obligations between people (for example,
relationships of φιλία, ξενία or those between the suppliant and the one
being supplicated) and manifests itself in observing these obligations.
Sometimes, however, αἰδώς turns out to be socially unmotivated; in this
case, it is not a consequence of the existing social relations but, on the
contrary, it forces people to act in spite of their relationships and to go
beyond the bounds of enmity and grievance that separate them from one
another. Sometimes we find this form of αἰδώς in Greek tragedy, usually in
the form of pity for one’s enemies experiencing a misfortune. For example,
such αἰδώς is displayed by Talthybius in The Trojan Women (Tro. 717–18),
when he does not dare tell Andromache about the Achaeans’ decision to
kill Astyanax: Andromache interprets his hesitation as αἰδώς. In the fourth
epeisodion of Hippolytus, Theseus finds himself in a similar situation when
he stops rejoicing in Hippolytus’ death. A similar example of socially
unmotivated αἰδώς is Hippolytus’ forgiveness of Theseus – the central
event of the exodos.
Certainly, one may object to this reasoning by pointing out that Theseus
and Hippolytus are father and son and they were initially linked by a
relationship of φιλία. Indeed, in the fourth epeisodion Theseus, explaining
αἰδώς arising in him, says – as we have seen – this about his fatherly feelings:
νῦν δ᾽ αἰδούµενος
θεούς τ᾽ ἐκεῖνόν θ᾽, οὕνεκ᾽ ἐστὶν ἐξ ἐµοῦ,
οὔθ’ ἥδοµαι τοῖσδ’ οὔτ’ ἐπάχθοµαι κακοῖς.
71
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 72
Chapter 3
But now in respect for the gods and for this man, since he is my son, I feel
neither pleasure nor pain at these misfortunes (1258–60).
However, this relationship of φιλία had already been broken by that
time, Theseus viewed his son as an enemy (cf. 1257 µίσει µὲν ἀνδρὸς τοῦ
πεπονθότος τάδε, where Theseus avoids calling Hippolytus his son), and
therefore αἰδώς here serves to restore rather than reaffirm former social
links. This restored φιλία is also emphasized in the last scene of Hippolytus’
parting with Theseus, where the addresses ‘father’ and ‘son’ are heard in
nearly every phrase uttered by the characters.
In other cases in Hippolytus where the concept of forgiveness occurs and
which, according to the author’s apparent intention, should be similar to
the final αἰδώς in the fourth epeisodion and the exodos, there is no φιλία
binding the parties at all: these are Aphrodite’s never-coming forgiveness
of Hippolytus for which his servant begs the goddess in the prologue (117)
and the forgiveness for which the Nurse begs Hippolytus in the second
epeisodion (615).
We may assume that it is the contrast between the two forms of αἰδώς
– socially motivated αἰδώς, on the one hand, and αἰδώς not determined by
the existing relationships but, on the contrary, overcoming the break of
relationships through forgiveness, on the other – which constitutes the
principal meaning in the development of this motif in Hippolytus.
The former αἰδώς in all of its manifestations – piety, chastity, friendly love,
and respect for suppliants – always turned out to be ambivalent and was
accompanied by ὕβρις, since the contradictory world always makes
opposite, mutually exclusive demands on this feeling. It is only the latter
form of αἰδώς – forgiveness and pity to which the characters come at a
critical moment, a moment of extreme misfortune and death – that turns
out to be a moral absolute in Hippolytus.
Whereas the former, socially motivated αἰδώς is determined by the
existing network of social statuses (the status of a suppliant, status
relationships between servant and mistress, wife and husband, etc.), the
final αἰδώς in Hippolytus is αἰδώς beyond statuses: its manifestation in
no way depends on the status of the person towards whom it is directed.
Yet neither is it a personal feeling, i.e., it does not depend on another’s
personality. Perhaps, it would be more accurate to say that, just like
ordinary αἰδώς, it consists in respect for status, only in the widest sense of
the word – respect for the status of another person in general as a human
being and is an expression of humanity. A human being is in principle weak
and therefore cannot help but err; his transgressions are usually involuntary
and deserve justification and forgiveness. In the second chapter, I tried to
show how the motifs of sight and speech – the two main human faculties
72
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 73
αἰδώς and the ambivalence of virtue
which are the main weaknesses provoking ignorance and emotions leading
to involuntary transgressions – serve to uphold this generalizing meaning.
Weakness is inherent in every human and, therefore, every person deserves
forgiveness simply by virtue of being human. This generalizing meaning of
forgiveness is summed up in the Nurse’s phrase addressed to Hippolytus:
σύγγνωθ᾽· ἁµαρτεῖν εἰκὸς ἀνθρώπους, τέκνον ‘Forgive! To err is mankind’s lot,
my son!’ (615), a phrase that Artemis repeats in the exodos when she urges
Theseus and Hippolytus to reconcile (1433–4): ἀνθρώποισι δὲ / θεῶν διδόντων
εἰκὸς ἐξαµαρτάνειν ‘When the gods so send, it is to be expected that men
make errors.’
Thus, in Hippolytus the absolute final αἰδώς generally contrasts with all
forms of virtue that guided the characters’ actions in the main part of the
tragedy – with all forms that are based on social obligations and social duty.
In the world of Hippolytus, social duty is shown to be relative and
contradictory; what its strict observance does is separate people, and only
more positive αἰδώς aimed at transforming social relationships, αἰδώς
manifesting itself in pity and forgiveness, makes it possible to overcome the
abyss between them.
Summing up the analysis of the motif of αἰδώς in Hippolytus, it should be
noted that there exist dual relations between the ambivalent relative αἰδώς
of the main part of the drama and the pure absolute αἰδώς of the exodos,
αἰδώς-forgiveness. On the one hand, the ambivalence of the former
kind of αἰδώς provides logical grounds for the final forgiveness. It turns
out to be an exculpatory factor, since the transgressions determined by it
and thus originating not from the characters’ bad moral will but from the
contradictoriness of moral virtue itself should be recognized as involuntary,
justified and forgiven.
On the other hand, the final pure αἰδώς appears as a kind of musical
resolution of the double αἰδώς of the main part of the play. Such progress
of the key motif from ambivalence to its resolution can be found in the
whole of Greek tragedy. For example, it is precisely in this way that the
motif of δίκη develops in Aeschylus’ Oresteia. In the first two tragedies of
the trilogy, justice is shown as an ambivalent concept, since every
restoration of δίκη, which is an individual action there, leads to a new
violation of δίκη; however, in the final part of the trilogy, Eumenides, δίκη
turns from an individual action into a collective action of the democratic
Athenian court and is thus freed from ambivalence.
Euripides’ tragedy, however, has one significant feature distinguishing
it from Oresteia. In Greek culture, the concept of αἰδώς was not as
homogeneous as δίκη; this word was used in quite a wide variety of contexts
and the various spheres of its usage were not necessarily linked together.
73
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 74
Chapter 3
When Euripides ranks together most varied cases of using this concept,
aiming first to show its contradictoriness and then to expose its absolute
and true meaning, he largely goes along the same path as the philosophers
of the 5th century BC. The development of the motif of αἰδώς in Hippolytus
is a dramatic analogue of the practice of philosophical analysis of concepts
which we find in Plato and which apparently originates in the methods of
the Sophists of the 5th century BC: the exposure of contradictions, in
concepts that seemed to be unquestionable and true, brings the audience
into a state of aporia, which is resolved through finding the truly correct
meaning.95 The procedures used by Plato for creating aporia are close to the
Sophists’ technique of ‘antilogic’ consisting in elaborating on a point stated
by an opponent and bringing it to an inner contradiction; this technique
often presupposed playing upon different meanings and usages of a single
concept, often contrary to one another, or upon partial synonymy of
different concepts.96 A close affinity with this Sophistic practice can be
seen in the dramatic method of Euripides, who aligned very varied actions
by applying to them the one concept of αἰδώς and brought them into a
clash with one another, thereby exposing the contradictoriness of this
concept. Moreover, as already mentioned (p. 000), it was precisely in the
Sophists’ writings that αἰδώς acquired the significance of a universal moral
term and turned into a key category of Athenian morality. Thus, Hippolytus
reflects the process of conscious development of the language of moral
concepts that distinguishes the Athenian intellectual culture of the second
half of the 5th century BC.
74
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 75
4
THE VIRTUE OF HIPPOLYTUS AND PHAEDRA
Scholars often pay attention to the contrast between two main human
characters of Hippolytus – Hippolytus and Phaedra. Both of them are
devotees of αἰδώς and σωφροσύνη, but they understand and display this
virtue in two opposite ways.97 In this chapter I intend to examine in detail
the specific features of the virtue of the two main characters and will try to
show how their respective varieties of virtue relate to each other and how
these relations are transformed in the course of the drama.
The prologue of the tragedy is devoted to the characterization of
Hippolytus. Here the concept of αἰδώς is explicated (78) and expresses the
main trait of the hero. Hippolytus’ αἰδώς appears in its two varieties, in the
form of piety towards the goddess Artemis (cf. his humble speech
addressed to the goddess, 73–87) and in the form of chastity and
abstinence from sex (expressed in his remarks on love and chastity, 102,
and metaphorically through the image of Αἰδώς the gardener, who tends the
untouched meadow from which Hippolytus gathers a garland for the
goddess, 78). At the same time, however, Hippolytus’ αἰδώς as we see him
in the prologue is combined with its opposite – ὕβρις.98
In the depiction of Hippolytus’ behavior in the prologue we find all the
main connotations of the concept of ὕβρις. Firstly, he displays excessive
self-esteem – his exaggerated assessment of his own status.99 This trait of
the hero is first stressed by Aphrodite: σφάλλω δ᾽ ὅσοι φρονοῦσιν εἰς ἡµᾶς µέγα
‘I bring down all those who think proud thoughts against me’ (6); her
opinion is then corroborated by an onlooker, the Servant, who describes
Hippolytus as haughty (σεµνός, 93 f.). Secondly, Hippolytus’ behavior
demeans the dignity (τιµή) of Aphrodite. This point is also repeated twice
– first, in the words of Aphrodite herself: ἔνεστι γὰρ δὴ κἀν θεῶν γένει τόδε· /
τιµώµενοι χαίρουσιν ἀνθρώπων ὕπο ‘For in the gods as well one finds this
trait: they enjoy receiving honor from men’ (7–8); then in the words of
Hippolytus’ servant: τιµαῖσιν, ὦ παῖ, δαιµόνων χρῆσθαι χρεών ‘My son, the
gods should have the homage they demand’ (107).
In addition to the two sides of ὕβρις related to τιµή – the excessive
affirmation of one’s own status and the humiliation of others – the
characterization of Hippolytus includes some additional features associated
75
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 76
Chapter 4
with yet another aspect of ὕβρις. Since ὕβρις presupposes a certain
psychological state leading to unbridled behavior, it often connotes excess
of vital force.100 In Greek texts, ὕβρις is not infrequently associated
with young age, abundant consumption of food, and sporting pursuits.101
All these associations are also present in the prologue of Hippolytus, in the
lines of Hippolytus and the Servant concluding the prologue. The hero’s
last and sharpest thrust against Aphrodite (τὴν σὴν δὲ Κύπριν πόλλ᾽ ἐγὼ χαίρειν
λέγω ‘As for your Aphrodite, I bid her a very good day!’ 113) is preceded
by his orders to prepare a meal after which, having been sated with food
(βορᾶς κορεσθείς, 112), he intends to go for a chariot ride. The connection
of ὕβρις with Hippolytus’ state is even more emphasized by the verb
κορεσθείς, cognate to the word κόρος, ‘satiety,’ a usual companion of ὕβρις.102
However, ὕβρις, so fully outlined, contrasts sharply with the opposite
feeling manifested by Hippolytus and also emphasized in the prologue –
with αἰδώς. Not only is Hippolytus’ αἰδώς combined with ὕβρις, but it is
also shown to be its cause. The hero’s impermissible disdain of Aphrodite
arises from his pious attitude towards Artemis and from his particular
concern for his sexual purity. However, his ὕβρις against Aphrodite is not
an inevitable consequence of his reverence for Artemis. At the beginning
of the prologue, Aphrodite says that she bears no grudge against
Hippolytus for his devotion to Artemis – if only he would show
appropriate respect for her as well (20–1); thereby the goddess admits the
possibility of his veneration of both of them. This correct attitude is
demonstrated by the hero’s servant, who first, together with Hippolytus,
performs a hymn in honor of Artemis and then, in contrast to his master,
offers humble prayers before the statue of Aphrodite. At the same time, the
characterization of Hippolytus and of his αἰδώς in the prologue has one
major feature that largely explains how his specific αἰδώς turns into ὕβρις.
In describing the meadow from which the garland for Artemis was
gathered, Hippolytus notes that only those who have not acquired virtue
by teaching but in whose very nature virtue has always been present can
pluck flowers from it (79–81):
ὅσοις διδακτὸν µηδέν, ἀλλ᾽ ἐν τῇ φύσει
τὸ σωφρονεῖν εἴληχεν ἐς τὰ πάνθ᾽ ὁµῶς,
τούτοις δρέπεσθαι, τοῖς κακοῖσι δ᾽ οὐ θέµις.
...for those who have acquired nothing by teaching but rather in whose very
nature virtue in all things always has been assigned her place – for them to
pluck; but the base have no right hereto.
This passage refers us to the traditional literary and philosophical topos of
the character of true ἀρετή (‘virtue’, ‘excellence’) – of whether it is innate
76
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 77
The virtue of Hippolytus and Phaedra
or may be acquired. This topos is found more than once in Pindar, who
expresses the aristocratic conviction that nature alone can be the only and
indispensable source of ἀρετή. For example, in O. 9.100, ‘that which is
inborn’ is called ‘the best’ and opposed to useless ‘excellence acquired by
teaching’ (διδακταὶ ἀρεταί). In the second half of the 5th century BC, the
antithesis of nature and learning in acquiring ἀρετή occupied an important
place in the reasoning of the sophists, being a variety of the opposition
between the natural and artificial principle in moral life, or between ‘nature’
and ‘law.’ In the literature of the period, however, unlike Pindar, ἀρετή was
often represented not as a natural trait but, on the contrary, as a conscious
trait103 gradually acquired by man, rising above his nature and even
opposing it. The new evaluation of ἀρετή was not least related to the fact
that the sophists had a different kind of virtue in mind. Whereas Pindar
understood ἀρεταί to mean ‘competitive’ virtues – aristocratic qualities
enabling one to win in a war or in sports, the sophists, in their turn, spoke
about political and civic virtues possessing which was essential for
governing a city and for participating in the court – virtues that are not so
much inherent in man by nature as they are developed throughout his life.
Protagoras, for example, if we can judge his views on the basis of their
rendering in Plato’s dialogue of the same name, expresses in the form of a
myth the idea that αἰδώς and δίκη, unlike the aptitude for individual arts, do
not come to man from nature but are transmitted to him after birth as
specific principles of existence of the human community.104
At the same time, nature is often associated with natural desires and
pleasures that virtue is called upon to control. The connection of human
nature with lusts and pleasures is postulated, for example, by Callicles in
Plato’s Gorgias. Our nature demands, Callicles says, that we should let our
desires be as strong as possible and not chasten them, and satisfy each
appetite in turn with what it desires (491e). Self-restraint and respect for
laws and other people’s opinions and rebukes – i.e., qualities that are
described by the concepts of αἰδώς and σωφροσύνη – are all contrary to
nature (492b–c). Similar ideas are expressed by Unjust Discourse in
Aristophanes’ Clouds. Arguing from the standpoint of a defender of nature
from law, he says (1060 ff.) that any self-control (σωφρονεῖν) is an evil, for
it deprives one of the pleasures which make life worth living, and opposes
the necessities of nature; indulging nature, represented as the only possible
good, is explicitly named by the word ὕβρις (1068). Similarly, Antiphon the
Sophist, defending the interests of nature in a more civilized form,
nonetheless links them to pleasures (fr. 44a IV–V). The essence of the
virtue σωφροσύνη, in its turn, consists precisely in control over one’s lusts.
This idea is to be seen in Antiphon’s fragment 59: ‘If someone neither
77
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 78
Chapter 4
desires nor has contact with shameful or bad things, he is not temperate.
For there is nothing which he makes himself orderly and well-behaved by
overcoming’,105 and then becomes a commonplace in works by Plato.106
At the same time, however, αἰδώς and σωφροσύνη, in particular in their
sexual meanings, could be regarded as natural qualities as well; moreover,
it is precisely the fact of chastity being rooted in the nature of man that
could be considered a guarantee that he would behave virtuously in any
circumstances. We find this idea, for example, in Teiresias’ speech in
Euripides’ Bacchae. In response to the accusation by Pentheus of Dionysus
that he corrupts women with his nightly orgies, Teiresias says: ‘It is not
Dionysus’ part to force chastity (σωφρονεῖν) on women: you must look for
that in their nature; for even in the ecstatic rite the pure (σώφρων) will not
lose her purity’ (Ba. 314–18).
Hippolytus’ character combines two opposite meanings that the concept
of human nature can acquire. On the one hand, as can be seen from his
words about natural and learned virtue, the hero embodies the idea of
natural virtue, above all, that of natural chastity – the very same idea which
is expressed in Teiresias’ above-cited words from the Bacchae. At the same
time, however, making nature the main force controlling Hippolytus,
Euripides imparts the hybristic qualities of looseness and indulgence of
desires, which were often associated with φύσις, to the very virtue of his
hero. Hippolytus’ αἰδώς and σωφροσύνη themselves are represented in the
prologue as lusts and pleasures.
We find a combination of αἰδώς and ἔρως in Aphrodite’s speech opening
the prologue. In telling about the honors that Hippolytus pays to Artemis,
Aphrodite uses words with sexual connotations, implicitly comparing the
relationship between the hero and Artemis to a love affair:
χλωρὰν δ᾽ ἀν᾽ ὕλην παρθένῳ ξυνὼν ἀεὶ
κυσὶν ταχείαις θῆρας ἐξαιρεῖ χθονός,
µείζω βροτείας προσπεσὼν ὁµιλίας.
In the green wood, ever living with the maiden, he clears the land of wild
beasts with his swift dogs, having gained an intercourse greater than mortal.
(17–19)
The ‘mortal intercourse’ (βροτεία ὁµιλία), which Hippolytus disdains, is
sexual relationships with women. This meaning undoubtedly follows both
from the semantics of the word ὁµιλία ‘intercourse,’ often used with an
erotic meaning, and from the connection of this expression with the main
rebuke that Aphrodite gives to Hippolytus – a rebuke for his reluctance to
enter conjugal relations: ἀναίνεται δὲ λέκτρα κοὐ ψαύει γάµων ‘He shuns the
bed of love and has nothing to do with marriage’ (14). At the same time,
78
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 79
The virtue of Hippolytus and Phaedra
the word ὁµιλία is also meant here as a noun defined by µείζω, and therefore
it is used with reference to Hippolytus’ relationship with Artemis. Thus, by
differentiating his ‘intercourse’ with the goddess from sexual ‘intercourse’
with mortal women, Aphrodite implicitly transfers the sexual meaning to
the character of relationship between Hippolytus and Artemis. The verb
ξυνεῖναι ‘to live with’ in verse 17 has the same erotic connotations, which
are additionally emphasized by the description of the environment where
the companionship between the hero and the goddess takes place: the
image of ‘dark woods,’ while it is associated, in the first place, with
hunting,107 carries additional erotic associations – the same as it acquires,
for example, in the Bacchae.108 Representing Hippolytus’ striving for chastity
as an erotic desire opposite to chastity, Euripides creates an oxymoron,
παρθένῳ ξυνών, in which the first member expresses the meaning of virginity
and the second, that of sexual love.109
The natural roots of Hippolytus’ αἰδώς are additionally emphasized by
mentioning more than once his origin. His mother was an Amazon – a
member of a tribe which was ascribed with a militant hatred of men and
veneration of Artemis; thus, it was from his mother that Hippolytus
inherited a love for this goddess and a hatred for the opposite sex, i.e., the
extreme degree of αἰδώς turning into ὕβρις. The importance of this maternal
side of Hippolytus’ genealogy for his characterization is evident from the
fact that his mention in the tragedy is more than once accompanied by a
mention of his mother.110 Interestingly, each time she is referred to not by
her name but by her tribal name, just as an Amazon woman, which makes
it possible for the author particularly to stress the qualities of Hippolytus’
mother’s tribe that he inherited.
From the very beginning of the drama, contrasting with Hippolytus’
natural and hybristic αἰδώς and σωφροσύνη is the virtue of its other central
character, Phaedra. A distinction between Hippolytus and Phaedra appears
as early as the first mention of the heroine at the beginning of the parodos.
No sooner has Hippolytus left the stage – full of vital force and going to
have a hearty meal and then engage in sporting activities – than the Chorus
begins describing Phaedra’s sufferings and afflictions; and their
words about Phaedra taking no food echo with the recent description
of Hippolytus’ appetite.111 As I noted above, Hippolytus’ vital energy
manifesting itself in his appetite and his love of athletic pursuits is
shown as a psychological premise of the emergence of ὕβρις. By contrast,
Phaedra’s psychological condition is associated with an opposite quality –
true αἰδώς.
The character of her virtue becomes evident from the next scene – from
her conversation with the Nurse at the beginning of the first epeisodion.
79
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 80
Chapter 4
Phaedra’s αἰδώς is represented as her conscious struggle with her corrupt
passion – i.e., precisely what true virtue should be in accordance with the
view of Antiphon. Phaedra’s image turns out to be an example of the
duality of human character, the two sides of which – nature and conscious
will – have opposite aims and in which conscience tries to control nature
with its corrupt desires. The heroine herself constantly emphasizes this
duality, contrasting the purity of her behavior, subordinated to reason, with
her impure emotions (χεῖρες µὲν ἁγναί, φρὴν δ’ ἔχει µίασµά τι ‘My hands are
clean. It is my soul that’s stained’, 317) or telling how she works shameful
feelings into noble actions (ἐκ τῶν γὰρ αἰσχρῶν ἐσθλὰ µηχανώµεθα ‘Out of
shame I scheme to make good’, 331).
The heroine’s nature is possessed by ἔρως, and the description of the
natural basis of this feeling in Phaedra’s soul is similar to the representation
of Hippolytus’ natural αἰδώς. Firstly, it is similarly linked to a goddess
epitomizing natural force: whereas Hippolytus’ αἰδώς is traced to Artemis,
Phaedra’s ἔρως originates from Aphrodite. Secondly, Phaedra’s inclination
towards ἔρως, like Hippolytus’ disposition towards αἰδώς, is explained by
her genealogical peculiarities. The heroine compares her love for her
stepson with the sinful passions of her mother and sister – Pasiphaë’s
passion for a bull (337–8) and Ariadne’s love for Theseus (339).112
The virtue that opposes this natural passion and strives to control it is
linked to the other side of Phaedra’s personality – her γνώµη, i.e., her
conscious will and rational decisions and intentions. This word, not
infrequently used in opposition to nature (φύσις)113 in the 5th century BC,
appears more than once in the text of Hippolytus, featuring as one of the
main motifs characterizing Phaedra. Thus, for example, after the heroine
forgets herself and loses control over her emotions, voicing her dreams of
entering the world of wild nature where her beloved is, she comes back to
her senses and exclaims: ποῖ παρεπλάγχθην γνώµης ἀγαθῆς; ‘Where have I
wandered from the path of good sense?’ (240). In the same passage,
Phaedra uses the words τὸ γὰρ ὀρθοῦσθαι γνώµην ‘to be right in my mind’
(247) in reference to her conscious self-control. In her main monologue,
the heroine contrasts γνώµη – conscious striving for virtuous deeds – with
pleasures which lead to evil (377 ff.). At the end of the monologue, she
praises good γνώµη – the basis of virtuous conduct – as the supreme value
in human life: µόνον δὲ τοῦτό φασ᾽ ἁµιλλᾶσθαι βίῳ, / γνώµην δικαίαν κἀγαθήν,
ὅτῳ παρῇ ‘Only one thing, they say, competes in life: a good and upright
mind within one’ (426–7). Finally, in the exodos, characterizing and
assessing the actions of all the characters in the drama, Artemis describes
Phaedra’s behavior with the words: γνώµῃ δὲ νικᾶν τὴν Κύπριν πειρωµένη ‘as
she attempted to conquer Aphrodite by her resolve’ (1304).
80
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 81
The virtue of Hippolytus and Phaedra
Thus, Hippolytus’ virtue, which is natural and therefore ambivalent and
potentially hybristic, is contrasted with Phaedra’s conscious virtue. At first,
in the exposition of the drama, Phaedra’s virtue sets off Hippolytus’
ambiguous virtue and thus appears true in the same way as conscious, or
acquired, virtue is represented in other passages of Euripides114 as well as
in some texts of philosophers. However, already at the very beginning, in
the first epeisodion, implicitly present in Phaedra’s αἰδώς is its own
ambivalence, hidden at first but gradually manifesting itself and leading to
a complete re-evaluation of the virtue of the two main characters of the
tragedy.
From the heroine’s first appearance on the stage and even earlier, from
her first mention in the parodos, Phaedra’s αἰδώς and σωφροσύνη are
expressed through a detail of her attire – a headdress covering her head.
In the parodos, the Chorus declares:
τειροµέναν νοσερᾷ κοίτᾳ δέµας ἐντὸς ἔχειν
οἴκων, λεπτὰ δὲ φάρη ξανθὰν κεφαλὰν σκιάζειν·
She lies afflicted, they say, in a bed of sickness and keeps indoors, with fine-
spun cloths covering her blond head. (131–4)
Staying indoors and covering her head bear the same meaning: they enable
Phaedra to curb her secret passion. This meaning becomes evident with
Phaedra’s entrance from the house to the orchēstra, accompanied by
uncovering her head:
βαρύ µοι κεφαλᾶς ἐπίκρανον ἔχειν·
ἄφελ᾽, ἀµπέτασον βόστρυχον ὤµοις.
It is grievous to have this headdress on my head. Take it off, spread my
tresses on my shoulders! (201–2)
The taking off of the headdress symbolically expresses her loss of self-
control,115 which manifests itself in the following words of the heroine
conveying her insane love daydreams. Coming back to herself, Phaedra
asks the Nurse to cover her head again, explaining this by the feeling
of αἰδώς:
µαῖα, πάλιν µου κρύψον κεφαλήν,
αἰδούµεθα γὰρ τὰ λελεγµένα µοι.
Nurse, cover my head up again. For I am ashamed of my words. (243–4)
Thus Euripides imparts the specific meaning that Phaedra’s αἰδώς bears, the
meaning of conscious constraining of a corrupt passion, to the gesture of
covering the head, which is generally a traditional symbol of αἰδώς. However,
this covering of the head, denoted by the verb κρύπτειν ‘to conceal,’ has
81
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 82
Chapter 4
still another connotation – not only of constraining but also of concealing
a passion.
The word κρύπτειν is more than once used in describing Phaedra’s
behavior in the first epeisodion. Having covered her head in verse 245, the
heroine falls into silence and remains silent up to verse 310, when she
breaks silence against her will in response to the uttered name of
Hippolytus. Their next dialogue builds on the Nurse’s attempts to elicit
from her ward the secret of her illness, which Phaedra continues to
withhold in silence. The heroine’s continued silence and her concealment
of her love is constantly denoted by the word κρύπτειν. When the Chorus
asks whether the Nurse knows what her mistress’s trouble is, the Nurse
answers, πάντα γὰρ σιγᾷ τάδε, ‘on all these things she holds her tongue’ (273),
and then describes Phaedra’s silence with the words κρύπτει γὰρ ἥδε πῆµα
‘she conceals her misery’ (279). Persuading Phaedra in vain to reveal the
secret of her illness, the Nurse exclaims ruefully: κἄπειτα κρύπτεις χρήσθ᾽
ἱκνουµένης ἐµοῦ; ‘And then you conceal it when what I request of you is
noble?’ (330). Finally, in her great monologue Phaedra herself speaks about
concealing her passion with silence as a way to withstand it, and places this
behavior in line with σωφροσύνη: ἠρξάµην µὲν οὖν / ἐκ τοῦδε, σιγᾶν τήνδε καὶ
κρύπτειν νόσον ‘My starting point was this, to conceal my malady with
silence’ (393–4); τὸ δεύτερον δὲ τὴν ἄνοιαν εὖ φέρειν / τῷ σωφρονεῖν νικῶσα
προυνοησάµην ‘My second intention was to bear well this madness,
overcoming it by means of self-control’ (398–9).
Thus, both Phaedra’s gestures and her speech contain the motif of
concealment, which is related to her specific form of virtue consisting in
conscious (γνώµη) constraining of a natural passion (φύσις). The motif of
concealment lends a special color to this virtue, adding to it a contrast
between the outer and the inner: Phaedra’s nature, with the ἔρως she
conceals, turns out to be the inner quality, and her conscious virtue
concealing this nature, the outer. This antithesis of the outer and the inner
can easily turn into another antithesis, quite widespread in the 5th century
BC, which radically changes the assessment of Phaedra’s behavior – an
antithesis of appearance and reality.116 Her amorous passion could be
represented as true reality and thus suggest real infidelity, whereas the
concealment of her passion may be regarded as the desire to create only the
appearance of virtuous behavior.
Phaedra’s thoughts and actions in the first epeisodion, however, leave
no room for doubt that she herself is concerned not with appearance but
reality, which to her is the constraining of her passion. In her central
monologue, Phaedra contrasts her truly virtuous behavior to that of many
women who secretly cheat on their husbands:
82
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 83
The virtue of Hippolytus and Phaedra
µισῶ δὲ καὶ τὰς σώφρονας µὲν ἐν λόγοις,
λάθρᾳ δὲ τόλµας οὐ καλὰς κεκτηµένας·
But I also hate women who are chaste in word but in secret possess an
ignoble daring (413–14),
and ends the monologue by stating that bad deeds cannot be concealed
forever:
κακοὺς δὲ θνητῶν ἐξέφην᾽ ὅταν τύχῃ,
προθεὶς κάτοπτρον ὥστε παρθένῳ νέᾳ,
χρόνος· παρ’ οἷσι µήποτ᾽ ὀφθείην ἐγώ.
But as for the base among mortals, they are exposed, late or soon, by Time,
who holds up to them, as to a young girl, a mirror. In their number may I
never be seen! (428–30)
This very reality, i.e. Phaedra’s virtuous behavior, however, is ‘outer’ with
respect to her ‘inner’ passion. This idea is aphoristically expressed in the
heroine’s phrase χεῖρες µὲν ἁγναί, φρὴν δ᾽ ἔχει µίασµά τι ‘My hands are clean.
It is my soul that’s stained’ (317), which contains a contrast between inner
sin and outer purity of deeds. As early as the first epeisodion, Phaedra
utters phrases showing how easily her reality – the outer constraining and
concealing of her corrupt inner feelings – can be identified with appearance.
In her first dialogue with the Nurse, Phaedra speaks about her fear of
committing wrong against her husband (321): µὴ δρῶσ ἔγωγ᾽ ἐκεῖνον ὀφθείην
κακῶς ‘Never may I be seen wronging him’. The logical emphasis in the
construction of the participle κακῶς δρῶσα and the verb ὀφθείην naturally is
on the participle, and thereby Phaedra expresses, in the first place, her
reluctance to commit adultery; this phrase, however, includes the possibility
of a different emphasis, an emphasis falling on µὴ ὀφθείην ‘never may I be
seen’, and, therefore, the possibility of a different fear – not so much of
committing adultery as of being caught committing it. The same ambivalence
of reality and appearance is to be seen further on, when in her great
monologue Phaedra explains why she is going to commit suicide (420):
ὡς µήποτ᾽ ἄνδρα τὸν ἐµὸν αἰσχύνασ᾽ ἁλῶ ‘that I may not be detected bringing
shame to my husband’. Here Euripides once again uses the same participle
and verb construction in which the main logical emphasis falls on the
participle αἰσχύνασα ‘bringing shame’, expressing the heroine’s main idea,
that of reluctance to bring shame on her husband, but which at the same
time points through the verb ἁλῶ ‘be detected’ to a different possible
fear – that of fear of an adultery situation being exposed.117
The same monologue contains further phrases that demonstrate the
importance to the heroine of appearance, which she does not quite
83
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 84
Chapter 4
distinguish from reality. In telling about her efforts to gain control over
her passion or to constrain it, Phaedra combines her concern about actual
chastity with a fear that her adultery might be exposed – i.e., with appearance:
ἐµοὶ γὰρ εἴη µήτε λανθάνειν καλὰ
µήτ’ αἰσχρὰ δρώσῃ µάρτυρας πολλοὺς ἔχειν.
For with acts of mine I would neither have honourable ones unknown nor
yet have the world to witness shameful ones. (403–4)
The ambiguity of Phaedra’s ‘concealment’ becomes even more evident in
her exchange of short phrases with the Nurse at the end of the first
epeisodion. In this dialogue, Phaedra continues to represent her pure
conduct as reality, contrasting it to ‘words too well spoken’ (οἱ καλοὶ λίαν
λόγοι, 487) – arguments of the Nurse that seek to persuade her to resolve
upon committing adultery, having concealed the crime from other people’s
eyes. In response to the Nurse’s persuasions, Phaedra says:
τοῦτ᾽ ἔσθ᾽ ὃ θνητῶν εὖ πόλεις οἰκουµένας
δόµους τ᾽ ἀπόλλυσ᾽, οἱ καλοὶ λίαν λόγοι·
οὐ γάρ τι τοῖσιν ὠσὶ τερπνὰ χρὴ λέγειν
ἀλλ᾽ ἐξ ὅτου τις εὐκλεὴς γενήσεται.
This is the thing that destroys the well-governed cities and houses of mortal
men: words that are too well spoken! It is not to delight the ear that you
should speak, but what will lead to good renown. (486–9)
There is ambiguity in this phrase, however, just as in Phaedra’s preceding
monologue: the word εὐκλεής ‘of good renown’ (489), expressing Phaedra’s
ideal, makes it possible to associate her own purpose with words, i.e., with
appearance and not reality. This association is revealed in the reply of the
Nurse, who also bases her phrase on a contrast between ‘words’ and
‘deeds,’ yet applying this antithesis to Phaedra’s point of view (490–1):
τί σεµνοµυθεῖς; οὐ λόγων εὐσχηµόνων
δεῖ σ’, ἀλλὰ τἀνδρός.
Why this high and haughty tone? It’s not fine words you need, it’s the man.
The same idea is contained in the Nurse’s next speech (501–2):
κρεῖσσον δὲ τοὔργον, εἴπερ ἐκσώσει γέ σε,
ἢ τοὔνοµ’, ᾧ σὺ κατθανῇ γαυρουµένη
Better the deed, if it will save your life, than the word you will plume yourself
on and die!
It turns out that Phaedra’s conscious virtue, which manifests itself both in
restraining her passion and in concealing it, is transformed – to some extent,
84
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 85
The virtue of Hippolytus and Phaedra
in her own words and in the Nurse’s phrase – into a striving for fame, a good
reputation and beautiful words, i.e., a striving for appearance and not reality.
At the same time, the inner feeling of love Phaedra tries to restrain
acquires the status of true reality in the Nurse’s words. The Nurse denies
Phaedra’s σωφροσύνη on the grounds that she is possessed by passion (εἰ µὲν
γὰρ...σώφρων δ᾽ οὖσ᾽ ἐτύγχανες γυνή ‘If you were in fact a virtuous woman’,
the Nurse says in an unreal condition, 493–4), thus showing her conviction
that the feeling is in itself an object of moral assessment, no different from
a deed.
The Nurse’s argument in her dialogue with Phaedra is quite close to the
sophistic argumentation for nature against convention (which latter
included human laws and social virtue). She persuades her mistress not to
restrain her feeling (440 ff.), equates the struggle with this feeling to mere
words, believes it sufficient simply to keep dishonorable deeds in the dark
(462 ff.), and refers to the law of nature yielding to which everyone sins
(451). We find the closest parallel to the Nurse’s reasoning in a papyrus
fragment from the treatise On Truth by Antiphon the Sophist (44A) – a
fragment that juxtaposes the natural needs of man with the laws of the
state. In it, Antiphon creates his own pattern of right behavior – i.e.,
behavior that does not cause harm to the man himself. In the sophist’s
opinion, this should consist in maximum satisfaction of the needs of
human nature, which he recognizes as necessity (ἀνάγκη); whereas the laws
should only be upheld in the company of witnesses:
(I–II) χρῷτ᾽ ἂν οὖν ἄνθρωπος µάλιστα ἑαυτῷ ξυµφερόντως δικαιοσύνῃ, εἰ
µετὰ µὲν µαρτύρων τοὺς νόµους µεγά<λο>υς ἄγοι, µονούµενος δὲ µαρτύρων
τὰ τῆς φύσεως· τὰ µὲν γὰρ τῶν νόµων <ἐπίθ>ετα, τὰ δὲ <τῆς> φύσεως
ἀ<ναγ>καῖα· καὶ τὰ <µὲν> τῶν νό<µω>ν ὁµολογη<θέντ>α οὐ φύν<τα
ἐστί>ν, τὰ δὲ <τῆς φύσ>εως φύν<τα οὐχ> ὁµολογηθέντα...τὰ οὖν νόµιµα
παραβαίνων ἐὰν λάθῃ τοὺς ὁµολογήσαντας καὶ αἰσχύνης καὶ ζηµίας
ἀπήλλακται· µὴ λαθὼν δ᾽ οὔ· τῶν δὲ τῇ φύσει ξυµφύτων ἐάν τι παρὰ τὸ
δυνατὸν βιάζηται, ἐάν τε πάντας ἀνθρώπους λάθῃ, οὐδὲν ἔλαττον τὸ κακόν,
ἐάν τε πάντες ἴδωσιν, οὐδὲν µεῖζον.
Now a man would make use of justice in a way most advantageous to
himself if he were to regard the laws as great in the presence of witnesses,
but nature as great when deprived of witnesses. For the laws are imposed,
whereas nature is necessary; and the laws are not born but agreed upon,
whereas nature is not agreed upon but born. When a man transgresses the
laws, then, he is free from shame and punishment if he escapes the notice
of those who agreed on them; but if he does not, he is not. If, on the other
hand, he tries to do violence beyond what is possible to any of the things
born with nature, the harm is no less if he escapes the notice of all men,
and no greater if all see him.
85
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 86
Chapter 4
This reasoning resembles the Nurse’s argumentation both in substance
(the Nurse speaks about the need to yield to the demands of nature and
about the harm of not fulfilling them in 440–6 and 473–6, and about the
need to observe moral rules only before witnesses, in 462–6) and in
terminology.118 What is particularly interesting, however, is that in his next
words Antiphon identifies moral laws with δόξα, ‘opinion,’ i.e., appearance,
and natural needs with ἀλήθεια, ‘reality.’ Explaining immediately after the
passage just cited why the non-satisfaction of natural needs is always
harmful regardless of whether this occurs in secret from others or not – in
contrast to non-observance of moral laws which is harmful only if there are
witnesses – Antiphon says: οὐ γὰρ διὰ δόξαν βλάπτεται, ἀλλὰ δι᾽ ἀλήθειαν ‘For
he is harmed not through opinion but through reality’.119 We may conclude
that the transition from the φύσις/νόµος antithesis (or its variety, φύσις/γνώµη)
to the opposition of appearance and reality, gradually occurring in Hippolytus,
was a traditional part of sophistic argumentation in favour of nature against
conventional moral law.
Thus, Phaedra’s conscious virtue is gradually endowed with properties
of ‘appearance’, and the natural feeling that she resists with properties of
true reality. In constructing this transition, Euripides uses sophistic topoi.
Whereas in the first epeisodion this transformation of the φύσις/γνώµη
opposition into the appearance/reality antithesis occurs only in the
characters’ words (in their reasoning and argumentation), subsequently it
penetrates into the action of the play.
In the first epeisodion the Nurse identifies Phaedra’s passion with an
actual deed and decides that the best way to help her mistress is to bring
her together with Hippolytus. In the second epeisodion the Nurse tells
Hippolytus about Phaedra’s love for him. As we know from the prologue,
Hippolytus’ moral notions were based on the principle of natural virtue –
i.e., only a natural feeling was real to him, just as it was to the Nurse.120
Therefore, Hippolytus is not inclined to find out the details of Phaedra’s
struggle with her passion; without a moment’s hesitation, he extends to
her mistress the indignation raised in him by the Nurse’s shameful offer.
When conveyed first to the Nurse, and then to Hippolytus, the news
about Phaedra’s passion turns this passion into a ‘deed,’ into reality.
Alongside this, the meaning of ‘concealment’ changes: whereas at the
beginning of the drama the ‘concealment’ of the feeling was identified with
constraining it, now Phaedra has to conceal it as though it were actually an
adultery – i.e., by resorting to deceit. At this moment of the action, at the
end of the second epeisodion, the verb κρύπτειν ‘to conceal’ appears once
again, marking the link between the old and new variety of ‘concealment’:
πῶς δὲ πῆµα κρύψω, φίλαι; ‘How hide the painful fact, my friends?’ (674).
86
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 87
The virtue of Hippolytus and Phaedra
The ambivalence of Phaedra’s virtue consisting in ‘concealment’ – the
ambivalence which in the first epeisodion was expressed implicitly, through
the heroine’s ambiguous phrases about her fame, reputation and reluctance
to be caught committing an offense – now manifests itself to the full extent.
In the next part of the drama the antithesis of appearance and reality, or
words and deeds, plays the most important role. The transformation of
the γνώµη/φύσις antithesis into an antithesis of words and deeds leads to a
reassessment of the virtues of both Phaedra and Hippolytus. Previously,
Phaedra’s conscious virtue contrasted with Hippolytus’ natural αἰδώς
shown in its negative aspect; now, on the contrary, the ‘appearance’ of
virtuous conduct, with which the heroine is concerned, contrasts with
Hippolytus’ real and genuine virtue.
Just before her death Phaedra leaves a note in which she accuses
Hippolytus of trying to rape her. This note determines the entire content
of the dialogue between Theseus and Hippolytus in the third epeisodion.
The heroine herself seems an innocent victim, although in fact she is guilty;
Hippolytus is guilty in words and, at the same time, pure in deed; finally,
Theseus, who believes Phaedra’s note and is therefore not convinced by
Hippolytus’ exculpatory speech, views his son’s behavior in the opposite
way: in his opinion, Hippolytus has actually committed a crime and is only
innocent in words.
The antithesis of words and deeds or of appearance and reality, which
is central in this scene, is constantly explicated through the words of both
Theseus and Hippolytus, acting as grounds for accusatory argumentation
of the one and exculpatory argumentation of the other.121 At the beginning
of the dialogue, Theseus expresses a fantastic wish that people had some
reliable test for friends, which of them is a true friend and which is not,122
and each man had two voices, the one a voice of justice, the other whatever
he chanced to have, so that the voice that thinks unjust thoughts would be
convicted of falsehood by the just voice (925–31). Bringing accusations
against Hippolytus, he refuses to believe in his famed chastity and his ability
to communicate with the gods, calling it empty boasting: οὐκ ἂν πιθοίµην
τοῖσι σοῖς κόµποις ἐγώ ‘I will never be persuaded by your vauntings’ (950).
In his opinion, men like Hippolytus try to ‘make you their prey with their
high-holy-sounding words while they contrive deeds of shame’ (θηρεύουσι
γὰρ σεµνοῖς λόγοισιν, αἰσχρὰ µηχανώµενοι, 956–7). Naturally, Hippolytus’
exculpatory speech seems to him no more than mere words in contrast to
an actual ‘deed’ – the death of his wife.123 Hippolytus, in his turn, also uses
the antithesis of words and deeds, opposing seemingly convincing words
stating his accusation by Phaedra to the actual state of things: τὸ µέντοι
πρᾶγµ᾽ ἔχον καλοὺς λόγους, / εἴ τις διαπτύξειεν, οὐ καλὸν τόδε ‘Yet though the
87
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 88
Chapter 4
case you argue provides such fine words, it is not fine in fact if one should
examine it closely’ (984–5).
Hippolytus’ ‘actual’ virtue distinguishes him in this scene from Phaedra
with her imaginary reputation. In contrast to Phaedra, he expresses
readiness to die in infamy if he is guilty: ἦ τἄρ᾽ ὀλοίµην ἀκλεὴς ἀνώνυµος...εἰ
κακὸς πέφυκ᾽ ἀνήρ ‘May I perish with no name or reputation...if I am guilty’
(1028–31).
The contrast between the virtues of the main characters is concluded by
Hippolytus:
ἐσωφρόνησεν οὐκ ἔχουσα σωφρονεῖν,
ἡµεῖς δ᾽ ἔχοντες οὐ καλῶς ἐχρώµεθα.
Virtue she showed, though she did not possess it, while I who had it did not
use it well. (1034–5)
The apparent meaning of this passage with its deliberately paradoxical
formulation is to oppose the two characters in terms of the reality and
appearance of their virtue. Hippolytus himself is in fact chaste but is unable
to convince Theseus of the fact: he ‘has made poor use’ of his virtue, since
it brings him nothing but disgrace and banishment, whereas Phaedra, in
Hippolytus’ opinion, has in fact no chastity but has proved virtuous in
Theseus’ eyes.
It is interesting to note that in the dialogue between Hippolytus and
Theseus, in addition to the antithesis of words and deeds or appearance
and reality, there once again emerges the theme of natural virtue and vice
which played such a major part at the beginning of the drama. Both Theseus
and Hippolytus are equally convinced that virtue cannot be taught. In reply
to Theseus’ regret that mankind, having invented so many crafts, cannot
master the main thing – how to teach the senseless to be sensible:
ὦ πόλλ᾽ ἁµαρτάνοντες ἄνθρωποι µάτην,
τί δὴ τέχνας µὲν µυρίας διδάσκετε
καὶ πάντα µηχανᾶσθε κἀξευρίσκετε,
ἓν δ᾽ οὐκ ἐπίστασθ᾽ οὐδ᾽ ἐθηράσασθέ πω,
φρονεῖν διδάσκειν οἷσιν οὐκ ἔνεστι νοῦς;
O foolish mankind, so often missing the mark, why do you teach crafts
numberless and contrive and invent all things when there is one thing you
do not understand and have not hunted after, how to teach the senseless to
be sensible! (916–20),
Hippolytus exclaims:
δεινὸν σοφιστὴν εἶπας, ὅστις εὖ φρονεῖν
τοὺς µὴ φρονοῦντας δυνατός ἐστ᾽ ἀναγκάσαι.
88
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 89
The virtue of Hippolytus and Phaedra
A formidable expert this, who is able to force insensate fools to show sense.
(921–2)
Both these phrases, uttered by father and son, express the idea first
mentioned in Hippolytus’ description of his meadow in the prologue,
where natural virtue was opposed to virtue acquired by teaching (79–81):
virtue cannot be learnt, it can only be given to man by nature. The idea of
natural virtue forms the basis of all the moral reasoning of Theseus and
Hippolytus in their dialogue in the third epeisodion. The assessments that
they give to all kinds of human qualities are usually accompanied by the
verb πεφυκέναι, emphasizing the natural character of these qualities (cf. ἐν
τῇ φύσει, 79). For example, expressing regret about how rapidly the number
of base people grows, Theseus says that the gods will have to add another
earth to our world to hold τοὺς µὴ δικαίους καὶ κακοὺς πεφυκότας ‘the criminal
and the vile by their nature’ (942). Further on, revolving in his mind the
arguments by which Hippolytus could defend his innocence, Theseus
names, for example, the following among others: Phaedra could hate
Hippolytus because ‘the bastard is a natural enemy to the true-born’ (τὸ δὴ
νόθον τοῖς γνησίοισι πολέµιον πεφυκέναι, 962–3); or that Hippolytus must be
pure because sexual looseness is native to women and not men (τὸ µῶρον
ἀνδράσιν µὲν οὐκ ἔνι, γυναιξὶ δ᾽ ἐµπέφυκεν, 966–7). In another place, Theseus
says that his anger against Hippolytus could only be mitigated by a
person who is by his own nature a chanter of spells and a charlatan
(ἆρ᾽ οὐκ ἐπῳδὸς καὶ γόης πέφυχ᾽ ὅδε; 1038). Hippolytus, in his turn, more than
once emphasizes the natural character of his virtue: when he swears that
he is not a base man by nature (εἰ κακὸς πέφυκ᾽ ἀνήρ, 1031)124 or when he
regrets that the house, the only witness of his natural virtue, cannot speak
in his defense: ὦ δώµατ᾽, εἴθε φθέγµα γηρύσαισθέ µοι / καὶ µαρτυρήσαιτ᾽ εἰ κακὸς
πέφυκ᾽ ἀνήρ ‘O house, would that you could utter speech on my behalf and
bear me witness whether I am base by my nature!’ (1074–5).
Thus, here again we come across the motif of the natural basis of human
behavior, which played a major role at the beginning of the drama as part
of the φύσις/γνώµη antithesis. However, the new combination of this motif
with the antithesis of words and deeds emphasizes the development or
change that the initial φύσις/γνώµη opposition itself acquires in the course
of the drama: nature is now associated with the genuine and real, and γνώµη
with the ostensible and seeming.
So, whereas at the beginning of the drama true virtue was linked to
Phaedra’s conscious αἰδώς, contrasting with Hippolytus’ ambivalent and
hybristic natural αἰδώς, the γνώµη/φύσις antithesis is gradually transformed
into an antithesis of words and deeds, and the evaluation of the two main
characters is reversed: Hippolytus’ natural feelings turn out to be an actual
89
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 90
Chapter 4
‘deed,’ whereas Phaedra’s conscious virtue turns out to be mere appearance
and ‘words.’
This opposite apprehension of the reality of the outer and the inner in
the conduct of the two central characters in different parts of the drama is
emphasized by phrases which are uttered by Phaedra and Hippolytus at
different points of the play but which are so similar in structure that they
obviously echo each other. In the first epeisodion, as we saw, describing
her virtuous struggle with her passion, Phaedra says: χεῖρες µὲν ἁγναί, φρὴν
δ᾽ ἔχει µίασµά τι ‘My hands are clean. It is my soul that’s stained’ (317);
thereby, she introduces a contrast between the inner (φρήν ‘soul’) and
real deeds (χεῖρες ‘hands’), presupposing the identification of reality with
the outer. In the second epeisodion, at the moment when an overall
reassessment of the situation begins, Hippolytus exclaims in response to
the Nurse’s request to keep his oath and keep silent about Phaedra’s love:
ἡ γλῶσσ᾽ ὀµώµοχ᾽, ἡ δὲ φρὴν ἀνώµοτος ‘It was my tongue that swore it, not
my soul’ (612). In terms of its situational implication, this phrase of
Hippolytus is certainly amoral and subsequently not justified, for the hero
will fulfill his promise; however, it excellently shows the general essence of
Hippolytus’ conduct, describing it through a contrast between the inner
(φρήν) and words (γλῶσσα ‘tongue’). For Hippolytus, unlike Phaedra, it is
the inner, ‘the soul’, which is the ‘real deed.’
Thus, Hippolytus plays in a dramatic form with two opposite views of
conscious and natural virtue, and each view is represented by one of the
protagonists. As the plot progresses, we look at the world of the drama
through the eyes of its different characters – first Phaedra and then
Hippolytus.125 Two opposite views of virtue replace each other, and in each
part of the tragedy, where one of them dominates, the other one is also
implicitly present. In the first part, when we look at the events through
Phaedra’s eyes and her conscious virtue seems to us the only true one, the
ambivalence of the gesture of concealment and of the phrases about
concealing her passion uttered by the heroine suggests the possibility of a
different interpretation of her behavior in terms of the antithesis of
appearance and reality. The subsequent events reverse this viewpoint so
that Hippolytus’ view becomes dominant; however, Phaedra’s dead body
is in the view of the audience, reminding us of the opposite interpretation
and affirming its right to existence.
The structure of Hippolytus, in which two opposite viewpoints replace
each other, is reminiscent of a genre that was popular among the sophists –
the genre of ‘double speeches,’ a sample of which (an anonymous sophistic
exercise ∆ισσοὶ Λόγοι, written some time after 400 BC) has come down
to us. It is worthy of note that Hippolytus manifests a parallel with sophistic
90
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 91
The virtue of Hippolytus and Phaedra
literature not only in terms of its structure but also in terms of the principle
of argumentation. At the beginning of the tragedy, moral virtue is shown
through a γνώµη/φύσις antithesis where γνώµη has a positive, and φύσις
a negative, coloring. Subsequently, this antithesis is transformed into an
opposition of appearance and reality or of words and deeds, φύσις is linked
to reality and γνώµη with appearance; natural virtue thus acquires a positive
and conscious virtue a negative meaning. As I have tried to show, this
transformation has a parallel in Antiphon the Sophist’s treatise; apparently,
what we have here is a topos of sophistic reasoning – an argument for
nature and against conventions, which identifies nature with reality and
human conventions with appearance.
Aristotle in his Sophistic Refutations speaks about wide use by the sophists
of the principle of double argumentation for nature and for the law set by
people (SE 173a7–16); interestingly enough, he notes the same method of
reasoning which we find in Euripides and Antiphon – equating nature with
actual reality as opposed to appearance or human opinion:
A widespread topos causes men to utter paradoxes in the application of the
standards of nature and law, as Callicles is represented as doing in the
Gorgias, and which all the ancients regarded as valid; for according to them
Nature and Law are opposites, and justice is a fine thing according to law,
but not so according to nature. So to a man who has spoken in terms of
nature you must reply in terms of law, and when he speaks in terms of law
you must lead the argument in terms of nature; for in both cases the result
will be that he utters paradoxes; in the view of these people what accorded with nature
was the truth, while what accorded with law was what was approved by the majority.126
91
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 92
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 93
5
HUMANS, GODS AND THE STRUCTURE OF THE
DRAMATIC CONFLICT
The role which gods play in Hippolytus has generated serious discord among
critics. There traditionally exist two opposite views. Some critics, drawing
attention to Hippolytus’ transgression, his ὕβρις against Aphrodite, and the
inevitability with which punishment is carried out in the drama, see the
meaning of the work in defining the modest position which man should
occupy in the world and the boundaries set for him by nature.127 One
version of this understanding is a rather widespread psychoanalytic
interpretation interiorizing the image of Aphrodite: according to this
interpretation, Hippolytus conveys to us the result to which man’s futile
attempts to suppress the essential demands of his own nature eventually
lead.128 Thus, according to this view, gods appear an embodiment of the
immutable laws that man should follow; it is the duty to obey these laws
which is the main moral lesson of the drama.
Other critics, on the contrary, believe that in Hippolytus gods are given
an unambiguously negative assessment and assert that Euripides introduces
gods into the drama in order to attack classical anthropomorphic religion.
They propose to regard Hippolytus as a ‘theomachist’ drama denouncing
gods and calling to renounce their worship. In the opinion of these
scholars, Euripides thereby expressed atheistic ideas, which began to
spread in Athens in the second half of the 5th century BC.129
Each of the two points of view has its own apparent weaknesses. The
one interpretation, according to which the gods’ position is in fact
identified with the moral meaning of the drama, does not take account of
certain essential aspects of the work – disapproval of Aphrodite’s actions
and mitigation of Hippolytus’ responsibility. The weaknesses of the other
interpretation, which finds atheist ideas in Hippolytus, were excellently
shown in works by Lloyd-Jones and Lefkowitz.130 Firstly, atheistic ideas
circulated mainly among a narrow circle of intellectuals, whereas the
tragedy was aimed for an ordinary mass audience that was rather
conservative in its majority. Secondly, the interpretation of Hippolytus as
an atheistic drama does not find substantiation in the very text of the work.
Certainly, gods’ actions are disapproved in it, but that does not make them
93
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 94
Chapter 5
any less real; the tragedy demonstrates not only gods’ cruelty but also
their power.
In order to articulate how we should assess gods’ participation in the
drama, we need to consider in detail two different aspects of relations
between gods and humans. Firstly, gods are shown in their interaction with
humans: they play their own special and essential role in the dramatic
conflict of the tragedy. Secondly, gods are shown in comparison with
humans. We shall now dwell on each of these aspects in turn.
1. Dual conflict of Hippolytus: Phaedra vs. Hippolytus, gods vs.
humans
Critics always note that Hippolytus has a dual dramatic conflict: on the one
hand, the main action of the tragedy takes place in the human world among
human characters, yet, on the other hand, taking part in this action both
visibly and invisibly are deities. To some extent, the two conflicts are
distributed among different parts of the drama. In its main part, from the
parodos to the end of the fourth epeisodion, only humans are on the stage
and the dramatic situation is built around a conflict between them – around
private collisions between Phaedra and the Nurse and between Theseus
and Hippolytus, and a more general conflict between Phaedra and
Hippolytus dominating the entire main part of the drama. In the prologue
and exodos, both humans and gods appear before the audience, and
principal attention is given to the relations between Hippolytus and the
two goddesses. However, the absence of deities in their true individual
appearance in the main part does not mean their absence in general. They
are present in the human world latently in the feelings possessing the
human characters; they largely determine the characters’ actions and govern
the action of the tragedy.
At the center of the human part of the drama is a conflict between
Phaedra and Hippolytus. As I shall try to show, the relations between them
are built on the model of tragedies of revenge, typical of which were
contrast and symmetry between the two main antagonists.
In the preceding chapter, I examined the specific dynamic contrast
between the moral characteristics of Phaedra and Hippolytus. On the one
hand, they are always contrasted with each other: Hippolytus’ natural
chastity contrasts with Phaedra’s ‘acquired,’ conscious virtue. On the other
hand, the assessment of the two characters’ behavior is reversed in the
course of the drama. In the first half of the drama, Phaedra evidently raised
sympathy and Hippolytus seemed to be deserving of disapproval for his
arrogance and intolerance; in its second half, on the contrary, the audience’s
sympathies are turned towards Hippolytus whose striving for true virtue
94
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 95
Humans, gods and the structure of the dramatic conflict
contrasts with Phaedra’s concern for keeping up appearances and good
reputation. Each time, moral errors committed by the characters are a
continuation and consequence of their virtue. Virtue in either case turns
out to be ambivalent, and the very course of the drama with a changing
dramatic situation reveals the weaknesses, first, of its one and then of its
other form.
In addition to this symmetry in the characters’ moral behavior, there is
also a certain symmetry in their situation in the first and second half of the
drama; namely, Hippolytus’ misfortune at the end of the tragedy echoes
Phaedra’s misfortune at its beginning. The echoing is emphasized by
similarity of the two anapestic parts accompanying Phaedra’s first entrance
in the first epeisodion and Hippolytus’ last entrance in the exodos.131
The physical suffering caused to Phaedra by her passion and shame turns
out to be similar to the pain suffered by the dying Hippolytus. The
sufferings of the two characters are similarly expressed through their
requests addressed to the servants carrying them. Phaedra is unable to
control her body; she asks the servants to hold her body, head and arms:
ἄρατέ µου δέµας, ὀρθοῦτε κάρα·
λέλυµαι µελέων σύνδεσµα φίλων.
λάβετ᾽ εὐπήχεις χεῖρας, πρόπολοι.
Lift my body, hold my head erect! Fastenings of my dear limbs unstrung.
Take my fair arms, servants! (198–200)
Hippolytus’ entrance is also accompanied by constantly repeated requests –
first, to stop and give him a rest: σχές, ἀπειρηκὸς σῶµ’ ἀναπαύσω ‘Hold, so
that I may rest my exhausted body!’ (1353), then to lift him and carry him
with more care:
φεῦ φεῦ· πρὸς θεῶν, ἀτρέµα, δµῶες,
χροὸς ἑλκώδους ἅπτεσθε χεροῖν.
τίς ἐφέστηκεν δεξιὰ πλευροῖς;
πρόσφορά µ᾽ αἴρετε, σύντονα δ᾽ ἕλκετε
Oh! Oh! I beg you by the gods, servants, handle my wounded flesh gently!
Who is standing on my right at my side? Lift me carefully, draw me with
muscles ever tensed! (1358–61),
and, finally, to leave him alone and let him die:
αἰαῖ αἰαῖ·
καὶ νῦν ὀδύνα µ᾽ ὀδύνα βαίνει·
µέθετέ µε τάλανα,
καί µοι θάνατος Παιὰν ἔλθοι.
95
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 96
Chapter 5
Oh! Oh! And now the pain, the pain, comes over me. Let me go, wretched
man that I am, and may death come to me as healer. (1370–3)
The situation of the main characters is symmetrical in still another respect:
both at the beginning and at the end of the drama, one of them turns out
to be the cause of sufferings of the other. Phaedra’s distress is from the
very beginning caused by her passion for Hippolytus, who, even though
unwittingly, ruins her by this: φίλος µ᾽ ἀπόλλυσ᾽ οὐχ ἑκοῦσαν οὐχ ἑκών ‘One
who is dear to me destroys me. Neither of us wills it’ (319). The subsequent
behavior of Hippolytus, who has accused Phaedra of bad intentions and is
about to tell his father about them, puts the heroine in a desperate situation,
aggravating her disaster to the utmost. On the other hand, Phaedra’s
retaliation – her slander of Hippolytus – leads to the hero’s suffering
and death.
In terms of structure with dynamic contrast and symmetry of its main
characters, Hippolytus is very much reminiscent of another tragedy by
Euripides, Medea. Since Medea was written at approximately the same time
as Hippolytus, just a few years earlier, and shows quite a few interesting
parallels with Hippolytus,132 we may assume that in Hippolytus the author
deliberately proceeded from the structural pattern of his earlier tragedy.
Therefore, the structure of Medea deserves now a special, more detailed
examination.
In Medea, there is a similar reversal in the attitude towards the main
characters as in Hippolytus. At first, the sympathies are with the unfortunate
cast-off and suffering heroine, whereas Jason should stir up resentment
both with his actions – his infidelity and breach of the word – and with his
speeches, in which he cynically tries to explain bad deeds with good
intentions (446 ff.). Then, however, as Medea devises and carries out her
monstrous plan of revenge, the audience’s sympathies should move from
her to Jason.133 This reversal is marked by a change in the attitude of the
Chorus,134 which previously sympathized with Medea but then, starting
from a certain moment, the moment when the heroine resolves to kill her
children is condemning her and trying to stop her from committing the
crime. ‘This accursed woman’ (τὰν / ὀλοµέναν γυναῖκα, 1252–3) is what the
Chorus says about Medea when she leaves the stage in order to kill her
children; at the beginning of the drama, the Chorus spoke the same
malediction to Jason: it is above all to Jason that the Chorus’ wish ἀχάριστος
ὄλοιθ’, ὅτῳ πάρεστιν / µὴ φίλους τιµᾶν ‘May that man die unpleasantly who
cannot honor his friends’ (659–60) is addressed.
Just as in Hippolytus, Medea’s crime at the end of the tragedy turns out
to be somewhat similar to Jason’s transgression at its beginning. Their
essence is in destroying φιλία.135 In the prologue, the Nurse accuses Jason
96
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 97
Humans, gods and the structure of the dramatic conflict
of betraying his family, in the first place, his children (17–18), and in the
finale it is Medea who becomes a betrayer of her children. At the same
time, both characters equally cynically and selfishly manipulate φιλία.
In the first agon with Medea, Jason uses feigned φιλία (cf. the word φίλοι
in 459, 549) as an argument in dishonest rhetoric when he tries to explain
his wish to marry the Corinthian princess solely by his concern for Medea
and the children (549 ff.) and to represent all his behavior as the behavior
of a true friend (455–6, 459–64). Echoing this first agon is the second agon
in the second half of the tragedy, unfolding after Medea has made the
decision to kill her children. Here it is Medea who feigns friendly intentions
(869–99, cf., in particular, 897) in order to carry out her vengeful plans.
Finally, the main and most terrible example of manipulating φιλία is the
blow that Medea deals to Jason’s fatherly feelings by killing their children.
Thus, it turns out that, as the action progresses, the above-cited words
of the Chorus condemning those who do not show sincere friendly feelings
– words having a form of general condemnation yet addressed to Jason at
that moment of action – become equally if not more applicable to Medea.
Medea’s and Jason’s transgressions are also similar in terms of their
cause. It is ἔρως that propels both characters. In the opening scenes, Medea
accuses Jason of having betrayed his φιλία by succumbing to ἔρως. For
example, when Medea explains to Aegeus the cause of Jason’s betrayal, in
response to his assumption: πότερον ἐρασθεὶς ἢ σὸν ἐχθαίρων λέχος; ‘Was it
some passion, or did he grow tired of your bed?’ (697) she says: µέγαν γ᾽
ἔρωτα· πιστὸς οὐκ ἔφυ φίλοις ‘A great passion. He has been unfaithful to his
family’ (698). At the end of her conversation with Jason, the heroine
sarcastically prompts him to go to his young bride, ridiculing the longing
by which he, as Medea assumes, must be seized (623–4). Jason’s ἔρως sets
the main theme of the Chorus’s song that follows the conversation – the
second stasimon. Looking at the events going on, the Chorus voices its
wish never to experience an excessive passion (627–8), and not to entertain
a wrong passion, a passion for a ‘stranger’s bed’ and not for that of the
legitimate spouse, for a love for a ‘stranger’s bed’ is a source of wrath and
inescapable enmity (637–40).
However, it gradually becomes ever more apparent that there exists an
excessive ἔρως in Medea’s soul as well, which is the cause of her jealous
fury, and this ἔρως eventually leads Medea to the criminal destruction of
φιλία. The accusation cast by Jason in the last scene, that Medea killed her
children because of a ‘marriage-bed’ (λέχος, 1367) – an image traditionally
serving a metonymic expression of ἔρως – is accepted and not challenged
by the heroine: σµικρὸν γυναικὶ πῆµα τοῦτ᾽ εἶναι δοκεῖς ‘Do you imagine that
this is a trivial grief for a woman?’ (1368).
97
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 98
Chapter 5
The reversal in the tragedy revealing substantial similarity between the
two antagonists in spite of their seeming opposition combines with still
another detail – a kind of dynamics of the meaning of certain moral
stereotypes used here. Firstly, Euripides turns to the contrast, traditional in
Greek literature, between the morality of men and the immorality of
women. The initial situation of the drama should contest the stereotype
by showing us a faithful wife and a husband who has broken his promises.
Such is the meaning of the first strophic pair of the first stasimon in which
the Chorus, consisting of women, contrasts the behavior of the characters
in the play with the common notions of the behavior of men and women:
ἄνω ποταµῶν ἱερῶν χωροῦσι παγαί,
καὶ δίκα καὶ πάντα πάλιν στρέφεται·
ἀνδράσι µὲν δόλιαι βουλαί, θεῶν δ᾽
οὐκέτι πίστις ἄραρε.
τὰν δ᾽ ἐµὰν εὔκλειαν ἔχειν βιοτὰν στρέψουσι φᾶµαι·
ἔρχεται τιµὰ γυναικείῳ γένει·
οὐκέτι δυσκέλαδος φάµα γυναῖκας ἕξει.
Backward to their sources flow the streams of holy rivers, and the order of
all things is reversed: men’s thoughts have become deceitful and their oaths
by the gods do not hold fast. The common talk will so alter that women’s
ways will enjoy good repute. Honor is coming to the female sex: no more
will women be maligned by slanderous rumor. (410–18)
So, at the beginning of the drama there appears a contrast between virtuous
women and base men, which is opposite to the common view. In the
second part of the drama, however, after the reversal, it becomes clear that
the new view is no more true than the old one. The change in the initial
assessment is emphasized by a lexical echoing between the first stasimon
condemning men and the third stasimon condemning Medea’s cruel
intentions. Whereas in the first stasimon, according to the Chorus, ‘holy
rivers’ flow backwards because of Jason’s betrayal, in the third stasimon the
‘holy rivers’ of Athens cannot accept Medea after her evil deed:
πῶς οὖν ἱερῶν ποταµῶν
ἢ πόλις ἢ φίλων
πόµπιµός σε χώρα
τὰν παιδολέτειραν ἕξει,
τὰν οὐχ ὁσίαν µέταυλον;
How then shall this city of holy rivers or this land that lends escort to friends
lodge you, the killer of your children, the bloodstained resident? (846–50)
A similar double reversal occurs in Medea with still another traditional
opposition – that of the barbarians and the Greeks. At the beginning of the
98
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 99
Humans, gods and the structure of the dramatic conflict
drama, while the faithful Medea appears to be morally better than the
betrayer Jason despite her barbarian origin, this opposition is revised. The
author emphasizes its injustice by showing the cynicism with which Jason
uses this antithesis in his first agon with Medea. He uses it to persuade the
heroine that he has done her a great favor:
πρῶτον µὲν Ἑλλάδ᾽ ἀντὶ βαρβάρου χθονὸς
γαῖαν κατοικεῖς καὶ δίκην ἐπίστασαι
νόµοις τε χρῆσθαι µὴ πρὸς ἰσχύος χάριν·
First, you now live among Greeks and not barbarians, and you understand
justice and the rule of law, with no concession to force. (536–8)
Thereby Euripides shows the contradiction between the generally accepted
opinion, put into Jason’s mouth, and the reality in which Jason’s own
behavior looks unjust and lawless.
Jason resorts to the same notions once again at the end of the drama
after the murder by Medea of her children:
ὄλοι᾽. ἐγὼ δὲ νῦν φρονῶ, τότ᾽ οὐ φρονῶν,
ὅτ᾽ ἐκ δόµων σε βαρβάρου τ᾽ ἀπὸ χθονὸς
Ἕλλην᾽ ἐς οἶκον ἠγόµην, κακὸν µέγα,
Death and ruin seize you! Now I am in my right mind, though I was insane
before when I brought you from your home among the barbarians to a
Greek house – you, great evil (1329–31);
οὐκ ἔστιν ἥτις τοῦτ᾽ ἂν Ἑλληνὶς γυνὴ
ἔτλη ποθ᾽, ὧν γε πρόσθεν ἠξίουν ἐγὼ
γῆµαι σέ, κῆδος ἐχθρὸν ὀλέθριόν τ᾽ ἐµοί.
No Greek woman would have dared to do this, yet I married you in
preference to them, and a hateful and destructive match it has proved.
(1339–41)
This time, however, his words do not seem so much devoid of meaning,
and the moral opposition of the barbarians and the Greeks is once again
reversed, reacquiring the original meaning.
It is interesting to note that in Hippolytus we find a very similar example
of double reversal of the traditional moral stereotype, the same as in
Medea – a comparison of the moral qualities of men and women. Here,
however, this turn has a different meaning. Whereas in Medea it pointed at
the guilt of the characters (first, at Jason’s cynicism and then at the savagery
of the infanticide Medea), in Hippolytus the purpose of the author is to
demonstrate the erroneousness of any judgment made by his heroes and
use these errors to explain their wrong decisions and actions. Reality each
time turns out to be more complex than the characters’ notions; it is
99
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 100
Chapter 5
changeable and eludes their assessments, and therefore their actions
determined by their erroneous judgments can be justified.
In his main central monologue in the second epeisodion, Hippolytus
castigates women, accusing the entire female race of depravity:
ὦ Ζεῦ, τί δὴ κίβδηλον ἀνθρώποις κακὸν
γυναῖκας ἐς φῶς ἡλίου κατῴκισας;
O Zeus, why have you settled women in the light of the sun, women, to be
a false evil for mankind? (616–17);
ἀεὶ γὰρ οὖν πώς εἰσι κἀκεῖναι κακαί
They too are always in some way evil. (666)
This conviction forces the hero, having not understood the complexity
and ambiguity of Phaedra’s situation, to ascribe evil intentions to her:
νῦν δ᾽ αἱ µὲν ἔνδον δρῶσιν αἱ κακαὶ κακὰ
βουλεύµατ᾽, ἔξω δ᾽ ἐκφέρουσι πρόσπολοι.
But as things are, the wicked ones plot evil within doors, and their servants
carry their plans abroad. (649–50)
Earlier, in the first epeisodion, Phaedra herself voiced apprehensions that
this generally widespread notion of women may lead to a wrong
interpretation of her situation:
γυνή τε πρὸς τοῖσδ᾽ οὖσ᾽ ἐγίγνωσκον καλῶς,
µίσηµα πᾶσιν.
I knew besides that I was a woman, a thing all men hate (406–7),
and it was this fear which made her conceal her passion.
In the first part of the drama, just when this opinion is voiced and when
it determines the characters’ actions, it contradicts reality and leads to
errors. Here Phaedra, despite her love for Hippolytus, turns out to be a
virtuous wife, and the accusation thrown at her by Hippolytus is unjust.
The antithesis between the male and female gender is once again
discussed in a conversation between Theseus and Hippolytus in the third
epeisodion. Theseus rejects the common opinion opposing the chastity of
men to the depravity of women – an opinion which Hippolytus, accused
by him, might bring up in his defense. Theseus knows from his own
experience that it is erroneous:
ἀλλ᾽ ὡς τὸ µῶρον ἀνδράσιν µὲν οὐκ ἔνι,
γυναιξὶ δ᾽ ἐµπέφυκεν; οἶδ᾽ ἐγὼ νέους
οὐδὲν γυναικῶν ὄντας ἀσφαλεστέρους
ὅταν ταράξῃ Κύπρις ἡβῶσαν φρένα.
100
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 101
Humans, gods and the structure of the dramatic conflict
But will you say that wantonness is not to be found in men but is native to
women? I know that young men are no more stable than women when
Aphrodite stirs their young hearts to confusion. (966–9)
However, whereas in the opening scenes errors resulted from confidence
in the truth of this antithesis, now its removal equally leads to an error,
preventing Theseus from believing in the innocence of his son and the
cunning of his wife.
Let us now return to Medea. It is not suddenly that the reversal in the
dramatic situation and in our attitude to its characters occurs in Medea: it is
gradually prepared from the very beginning of the tragedy.136 Already in
the opening scenes, where Medea draws all the audience’s sympathies and
where she appears a desolate woman, abandoned by a base and egotistical
husband, the heroine’s previous life, which was a succession of bloody
crimes against family bonds, begins to unfold before us. For Jason, she
betrayed her father and killed her brother, and she also persuaded the
daughters of Pelias to kill their father. Already at the beginning of the
prologue, in the first monologue of the Nurse, the author shows similarity
between Jason and Medea, who are equally capable of betraying (προδοῦναι)
their loved ones. The Nurse says about Jason:
προδοὺς γὰρ αὑτοῦ τέκνα δεσπότιν τ᾽ ἐµὴν
γάµοις Ἰάσων βασιλικοῖς εὐνάζεται,
For Jason, betraying his own children and my mistress, is bedding down in
a royal match (17–18),
and then, a few verses later, about Medea:
αὐτὴ πρὸς αὑτὴν πατέρ᾽ ἀποιµώξῃ φίλον
καὶ γαῖαν οἴκους θ᾽, οὓς προδοῦσ᾽ ἀφίκετο
She will weep to herself for her dear father and her country and her ancestral
house. All these she betrayed when she came here. (31–2)
Other motifs which will characterize the heroine’s final crime are also heard
from the very beginning of the drama. Her former evil doings were dictated
by ἔρως (ἔρωτι θυµὸν ἐκπλαγεῖσ᾽ Ἰάσονος ‘her heart smitten with love for
Jason,’ 8), which was earlier as ruinous for φιλία as it will be later on, when
Medea will take revenge on Jason. Then, Medea is a woman, and a woman’s
character has dark and dangerous sides. Medea herself speaks about this at
the beginning of the tragedy:
γυνὴ γὰρ τἄλλα µὲν φόβου πλέα
κακή τ᾽ ἐς ἀλκὴν καὶ σίδηρον εἰσορᾶν·
ὅταν δ᾽ ἐς εὐνὴν ἠδικηµένη κυρῇ,
οὐκ ἔστιν ἄλλη φρὴν µιαιφονωτέρα.
101
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 102
Chapter 5
In all other things a woman is full of fear, incapable of looking on battle or
cold steel; but when she is injured in love, no mind is more murderous than
hers. (263–6)
Thus, the desolate and suffering Medea represents a threat from the very
beginning, of which the Nurse is aware, warning the heroine’s children:
ἀλλὰ φυλάσσεσθ᾽
ἄγριον ἦθος στυγεράν τε φύσιν
φρενὸς αὐθάδους
But beware of her fierce nature and the hatefulness of her willful temper.
(102–4)
This threat and its subsequent implementation are represented in the image
of a cloud eventually producing a lightning bolt:
δῆλον δ’ ἀρχῆς ἐξαιρόµενον
νέφος οἰµωγῆς ὡς τάχ’ ἀνάψει
µείζονι θυµῷ·
It is plain that she will soon kindle with even greater passion the cloud of
lament now rising from its source. (106–8)
In Hippolytus, we have seen a similar dramatic development with material-
ization of a potential threat. As I sought to show in the previous chapter,
the ambivalent words put into Phaedra’s mouth at the very beginning of
that tragedy, from the moment when the heroine’s behavior seems
irreproachable, betray her inability to clearly distinguish reality from
appearance and thus prepare the ground for her crime – her slander of her
stepson.
In Medea, just as in Hippolytus, not only the characters’ moral transgressions
but also the situations in which they find themselves turn out to be
symmetrical. Medea’s misfortune at the beginning of the tragedy echoes
Jason’s misfortune at its end, and in both instances one of the antagonists
is the cause of the sufferings of the other. This symmetry is emphasized by
correspondence between two speeches of the main characters – Medea’s
monologue in her first agon with Jason (465–519) and Jason’s speech,
addressed to Medea, in the last scene of the tragedy (1323–50). Both
monologues are structured in an absolutely similar way. Each of them
begins with maledictions aimed at the interlocutor (465–74 and 1323–8),
which are then followed by an accusation of a crime committed, and in
both instances this accusation is somehow or other referred to Medea’s
past (475–98 and 1329–46); finally, both speeches are concluded with
complaints about the pitiful situation in which the speaker finds himself at
102
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 103
Humans, gods and the structure of the dramatic conflict
the moment (499–515 and 1347–50). The similarity in structure is
supplemented by coincidence of individual motifs. The very first address
by Medea, ὦ παγκάκιστε ‘vilest of knaves,’ in verse 465 corresponds to
Jason’s address to her in verses 1323–4:
ὦ µῖσος, ὦ µέγιστον ἐχθίστη γύναι
θεοῖς τε κἀµοὶ παντί τ᾽ ἀνθρώπων γένει
O detestable creature, utterly hateful to the gods, to me, and to the whole
human race.
Medea wonders at the shamelessness of Jason, who is still able to look her
in the face after all the things he has done:
οὔτοι θράσος τόδ᾽ ἐστὶν οὐδ᾽ εὐτολµία,
φίλους κακῶς δράσαντ᾽ ἐναντίον βλέπειν,
ἀλλ᾽ ἡ µεγίστη τῶν ἐν ἀνθρώποις νόσων
πασῶν, ἀναίδει᾽.
This is not boldness or courage to wrong your loved ones and then look
them in the face but the worst of all mortal vices, shamelessness (469–72),
and, similarly, Jason wonders at how Medea can look at this bright world
after she has killed her children:
καὶ ταῦτα δράσασ᾽ ἥλιόν τε προσβλέπεις
καὶ γαῖαν, ἔργον τλᾶσα δυσσεβέστατον;
And having done this can you look on the sun and the earth, when you are
guilty of a most abominable deed? (1327–8)
An important place in the central part of both speeches is occupied by
Medea’s past history – naturally, playing an opposite role in them: in
Medea’s monologue, it is called upon to emphasize the ingratitude of Jason,
who dared abandon his wife after all that she had done for him; in Jason’s
monologue, the backstory of their wedding is needed in order to show that
her last crime followed from her previous evil doings. The characters’ final
complaints are also close to each other; they emphasize one and the same
aspect of their misfortune – their solitude. Medea is distressed about having
been left alone, without her loved ones – through Jason’s fault, as she
believes, and now, alone, she will have to endure the exile to which she
has been condemned (510–3). Jason is also left alone in the finale, having
lost all his loved ones after Medea’s revenge (1347–50).
The relations of symmetry between the main characters of Medea and
Hippolytus become the nucleus around which the compositional symmetry
of the two tragedies is created. For example, the agon of Medea and Jason
in the first half of the tragedy is reflected spectacularly in the agon between
103
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 104
Chapter 5
them in the second half, and Medea’s speech in the second agon largely
repeats, both in content and in words, Jason’s speech in the first one, just
as her way of behavior – masking bad intentions with good words – repeats
Jason’s behavior. A similar and even better-developed structural symmetry
is found in Hippolytus. The contrast between the main characters – a man and
a woman – develops into a structural division of the drama into two halves,
a female (scene of the Nurse and Phaedra) and a male one (scene of
Theseus and Hippolytus), with a clearly defined middle – in the second
epeisodion, where the female and male characters interact with each other.
While contrasted, these two halves of the drama show a symmetrical
correspondence. Here, just as in Medea, we find two symmetrical agons –
between Phaedra and the Nurse in the first epeisodion and between
Theseus and Hippolytus in the third one. In addition, the first and third
epeisodia are united by a common dramatic motif of silence and
concealment: in the first scene, Phaedra tries to conceal the secret of her
passion from the Nurse; in the third epeisodion, Hippolytus conceals the
same secret from Theseus, only in a different situation and for different
reasons. These concealments, accompanied by slowed-down action, are
symmetrically arranged around the central point of the drama, the rapidly
developing second epeisodion, where the secret is, on the contrary, revealed
and the revelation immediately brings about a series of fatal consequences.
Symmetry in both dramas is created by certain other important echoings
between its first and second halves and, in particular, between the very
beginning and end. For example, Medea begins and ends with the same
language pattern – ὤφελον with an infinitive, conveying an unreal wish for
an unrealized course of events. At the end, Jason utters such a wish,
addressing Medea:
οὓς µήποτ᾽ ἐγὼ φύσας ὄφελον
πρὸς σοῦ φθιµένους ἐπιδέσθαι.
Oh that I had never begotten them, never seen them dead at your hands!
(1413–14)
and, at the beginning, such a wish is expressed by the Nurse:
Εἴθ᾽ ὤφελ᾽ Ἀργοῦς µὴ διαπτάσθαι σκάφος
Κόλχων ἐς αἶαν κυανέας Συµπληγάδας,
Would that the Argo had never winged its way to the land of Colchis
through the dark-blue Symplegades. (1–2)
The motif of a ship as the primary source of all troubles, borrowed from
the Iliad,137 appears once again at the end of the drama, in Medea’s
prophecy of death by his own ship that awaits Jason (1386–7). It is
104
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 105
Humans, gods and the structure of the dramatic conflict
interesting to note that Jason’s role with respect to his ship changes: at the
beginning it was active, for Jason himself was the initiator of the voyage on
the Argo; at the end, however, when, according to Medea’s prophecy, Jason
is crushed to death by his own ship, his role will become passive. This
transformation is fully in line with the general change in the hero’s function
from active to passive – from the function of a culprit to that of a victim.
Quite similar is the case with the image of horses in Hippolytus. It also
creates an echoing between the beginning and the end of the tragedy,
appearing first in the prologue, where Hippolytus prepares his horses for
his exercise in chariot riding:
καὶ καταψήχειν χρεὼν
ἵππους, ὅπως ἂν ἅρµασιν ζεύξας ὕπο
βορᾶς κορεσθεὶς γυµνάσω τὰ πρόσφορα.
And you must rub down my horses so that when I am sated with food I can
yoke them to my chariot and give them their proper exercise (110–2),
and then in the fourth epeisodion, where the very same horses turn out to
be the cause of his death. At the moment of his crash, he calls to them
in vain:
Στῆτ᾽, ὦ φάτναισι ταῖς ἐµαῖς τεθραµµέναι,
µή µ᾽ ἐξαλείψητ᾽.
Stay, horses my mangers have nourished, do not blot me out! (1240–1)
Similarly to the image of the ship in Medea, the horses in Hippolytus
also change their function with respect to the hero. Just as with Jason,
Hippolytus’ role turns from active into passive, and this transformation
corresponds to his transformation from the culprit of the drama into its
victim.
Thus, Euripides used the same structural principle in Hippolytus as he
did in Medea. This principle can be named the principle of contrasting
symmetry. A structure of this type, as we have seen, has certain characteristic
features:
(1) for all their opposition, the two central antagonist characters show
substantial similarity with each other both in their actions and in their
situation: the misfortune of one of the characters at the beginning of the
drama is similar to the misfortune of the other at its end, and each of them
is the cause of the other’s misfortune;
(2) in the middle of the tragedy there occurs a reversal in the characters’
situation and in the assessment of their actions, and this reversal creates a
symmetry between the first and the second half of the drama;
105
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 106
Chapter 5
(3) the reversal is prepared in advance: the author step by step shows the
characters’ traits which will eventually lead to the reversal;
(4) the symmetrical structure of the central conflict becomes the starting
point for the symmetrical composition of the drama as a whole.138
This principle of symmetry, with similarity between seemingly opposite
characters and with a reversal in their situation and assessment, is typical
of revenge tragedies.139 The essence of its use practically always consists in
revealing the moral ambivalence involved in an act of revenge: on the one
hand, it is the implementation of justice demanding punishment for the
guilty party but, at the same time, the punishing character himself or herself
becomes guilty as a result of his or her action, thus becoming similar to
the one whom he or she is punishing.140
The first example of this structure is Aeschylus’ Oresteia, in which
symmetrical relations and specular reflections exist not so much within
individual dramas as in the trilogy as a whole. In Agamemnon, two victims,
a man and a woman – Agamemnon and Cassandra – are opposed by two
wrongdoers, also a man and a woman – Aegisthus and Clytemnestra. They,
in turn, turn into victims in the Choephori, suffering revenge from still
another pair, Orestes and Electra. The return of a victim, Agamemnon, in
Agamemnon, corresponds to the return of an avenger, Orestes, in the
Choephori, and both these dramas show similarity in the spatial organization
of action – movement from the outside into the house where a murder
will take place. While coinciding in these details, Agamemnon and the
Choephori are opposite in others. In Agamemnon, the murder is prepared
inside the house and in the Choephori, on the contrary, outside it; in
Agamemnon, those entering the house are killed and in the Choephori, those
who were inside it; finally, since in both instances the spectators are outside
the house and not inside it, in Agamemnon they do not know about the
murder being prepared and, just like the Chorus, can only guess at it from
certain signs, whereas in the Choephori the spectators become direct
witnesses of a plot of which the Chorus is an active participant and almost
an organizer.
As for Euripides, he turned to the same principle of symmetrical structure
in one of his last tragedies, which is also a revenge tragedy – the Bacchae.
The characters, situations and actions of the two antagonists, Pentheus and
Dionysus, are expressed through numerous common motifs, the relations
between them – relations of pursuer and victim – are gradually reversed,
and, as in Medea, this reversal and the final punishment by Dionysus of
Pentheus are prepared by hints from the very beginning of the drama.
Thus, Hippolytus has certain important structural features typical of
revenge tragedies. Moreover, the motif of revenge actually appears in it at
106
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 107
Humans, gods and the structure of the dramatic conflict
the moment when Phaedra makes the decision to ruin Hippolytus. The
desire to take revenge, alongside the fear of exposure (689–92), becomes
one of the reasons behind this decision:
ἀτὰρ κακόν γε χἀτέρῳ γενήσοµαι
θανοῦσ᾽, ἵν᾽ εἰδῇ µὴ ᾽πὶ τοῖς ἐµοῖς κακοῖς
ὑψηλὸς εἶναι· τῆς νόσου δὲ τῆσδέ µοι
κοινῇ µετασχὼν σωφρονεῖν µαθήσεται.
But to someone else I shall prove a bane by my death, so that he may learn
not to wax proud over my misfortune; by sharing with me in this malady he
will learn to keep within bounds. (728–31)141
Alongside these, however, there are some features distinguishing Hippolytus
from other revenge tragedies. Firstly, Phaedra, in contrast to Medea and
Dionysus, does not celebrate a victory, even if temporary. Her revenge is
linked to her own death and, punishing Hippolytus, she does not gain the
upper hand over him but only makes him share in her death.
Secondly, according to standard interpretations, each of the antagonists
must be guilty of the other’s misfortune, one at the beginning and the other
at the end of a drama. To some extent, as we saw, this pattern is present in
Hippolytus as well. Hippolytus is the cause of Phaedra’s passion – i.e., her
sufferings at the beginning of the tragedy. Then, absolutely as in Medea, the
heroine’s situation deteriorates, reaching the crisis point again through the
fault of Hippolytus who, having learnt her secret, utters a sharp rebuke to
women and threatens to reveal her secret to Theseus. At the end of the
drama, it is Phaedra who is guilty of Hippolytus’ misfortune and sufferings,
having unjustly slandered the hero and thus ruined him. At the same time,
departures from the common pattern are evident in Hippolytus. Hippolytus
is certainly the cause of Phaedra’s passion, but only its involuntary cause,
which is particularly emphasized in Phaedra’s words: φίλος µ᾽ ἀπόλλυσ᾽ οὐχ
ἑκοῦσαν οὐχ ἑκών ‘One who is dear to me destroys me. Neither of us wills
it’ (319). We know that Aphrodite was its true cause. Similarly, at the end,
depicting Phaedra’s action that ruined Hippolytus, Euripides constantly
reminds the audience of the role of the gods. When Theseus discovers
Phaedra’s note, the Chorus, aware that a fresh disaster is looming, says:
φεῦ φεῦ· τόδ᾽ αὖ νεοχµὸν ἐκδοχαῖς
ἐπεισφερεῖ θεὸς κακόν·
Oh! Oh! This is some fresh disaster the god is sending as successor to the
other. (866–7)
Then, after unsuccessful attempts to bring the enraged Theseus to reason,
the Chorus sings a song which begins not with condemnation of the
107
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 108
Chapter 5
characters whose actions result in Hippolytus’ death but with regret about
how little the gods care for people:
ἦ µέγα µοι τὰ θεῶν µελεδήµαθ᾽, ὅταν φρένας ἔλθῃ,
λύπας παραιρεῖ· ξύνεσιν δέ τιν᾽ ἐλπίδι κεύθων
λείποµαι ἔν τε τύχαις θνατῶν καὶ ἐν ἔργµασι λεύσσων·
Greatly does the gods’ care, when it comes to my mind, relieve my trouble;
but hopes cannot conceal my understanding as I look amid men’s fortunes
and doings. (1102–7)
and ends with an exclamation of resentment against the gods: µανίω θεοῖσιν
‘I am wroth against the gods!’ (1146).
This assessment of the events repeats the reaction of the Chorus and the
Nurse to Phaedra’s confession in the first epeisodion. It is neither Phaedra
nor Hippolytus but Aphrodite who is guilty of the disaster that has
happened, which is first mentioned by the Nurse:
Κύπρις οὐκ ἄρ᾽ ἦν θεός,
ἀλλ’ εἴ τι µεῖζον ἄλλο γίγνεται θεοῦ,
ἣ τήνδε κἀµὲ καὶ δόµους ἀπώλεσεν.
Aphrodite is not after all a goddess but something even more mighty, for
she has destroyed her, me, and the house (359–61),
and then by the Chorus:
ἄσηµα δ᾽ οὐκέτ᾽ ἐστὶν οἷ φθίνει τύχα
Κύπριδος, ὦ τάλαινα παῖ Κρησία.
And it is now quite clear to what end the fortune wanes that the Cyprian
sent – o unhappy Cretan girl. (371–2)
Finally, at the beginning and the end of the drama, just as we become aware
of the main characters’ misfortunes – first, in the first stasimon, after
Phaedra’s conversation with the Nurse, and then in the fourth stasimon,
after the Messenger’s story of Hippolytus’ crash – two songs about the
power of Eros telling the audience what was the actual cause of the tragic
events are sung by the Chorus.
Thus, the two antagonists, both Phaedra and Hippolytus, are shown not
as guilty before each other, the way it should be in a revenge tragedy, but
as equally victims of Aphrodite. The goddess’s active role and guilt in the
misfortunes that have happened is a motif, which constantly arises in the
exodos of the drama, appearing side by side with the acquittal of the human
characters. The same idea determines other noteworthy details in most
varied places in the drama.
In the second chapter, I examined the image of Eros describing the
108
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 109
Humans, gods and the structure of the dramatic conflict
connection of the passion of love with vision – Eros dripping desire into
the eyes of the humans he wars against:
Ἔρως Ἔρως, ὅ κατ᾽ ὀµµάτων
στάζεις πόθον, εἰσάγων γλυκεῖαν
ψυχᾷ χάριν οὓς ἐπιστρατεύσῃ,
Eros, Eros, thou that distillest desire down upon the eyes, bringing sweet
pleasure to the souls of those against whom you make war (525–7).
In Hippolytus, this image is an elaboration of the traditional topics describing
the effect of the lover on the beloved.142 This passage of Euripides,
however, has a noteworthy feature that calls attention to itself. Usually,
when passion penetrates a lover’s soul through his eyes, the main attention
is turned to the beauty of the beloved;143 it is the beloved’s beauty which
is shown to be the main cause of passion, and even if the beloved himself
did not consciously pursue the goal of arousing amorous desire for himself,
he is nonetheless to some extent guilty of it. In the passage of Euripides
being examined, however, the beloved not only plays no active role: he is
not present at all. Eros drips desire into the eyes, but he drips it out of
nowhere, as it were. This peculiar structure of the image not only
singles it out among other, more traditional examples, but it even comes
into conflict with the ordinary semantics of the verb which, like the English
‘to drip,’ almost necessarily requires indication of the source (or the source
may be implied but it should be apparent). The usual cause of passion –
the beauty of the beloved – is manifestly absent here. Only Eros by
himself, without connection to a particular human who is the object
of passion, directly acts on the soul of his victim, arousing passion
in him.
Removing through the use of this structure of the image not only
conscious guilt but also every kind of causality from the beloved, further
on, in the first stasimon, Euripides relieves the lover of guilt as well, even
in those cases where, driven by desire, he pursues the victim and commits
violence. Illustrating the ruinous power of ἔρως, the Chorus tells the story
of Heracles and Iole. According to this myth, Eurytus, the father of Iole,
refused to give his daughter in marriage to Heracles despite the fact that he
had won an archery contest with her as the prize. Heracles then destroyed
Eurytus’ city, Oechalia, and took Iole by force. In Euripides, it is not with
Heracles but with Aphrodite that violence originates:
τὰν µὲν Οἰχαλίᾳ
πῶλον ἄζυγα λέκτρων,
ἄνανδρον τὸ πρὶν καὶ ἄνυµφον, οἴκων
ζεύξασ᾽ ἀπ᾽ Εὐρυτίων
109
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 110
Chapter 5
δροµάδα ναΐδ᾽ ὅπως τε βάκ–
χαν σὺν αἵµατι, σὺν καπνῷ,
φονίοισι νυµφείοις
Ἀλκµήνας τόκῳ Κύπρις ἐξέδωκεν·
The Oechalian filly unyoked abed, manless before and unwed, she yoked
from Eurytos’ house and like a running Naiad or a bacchant, amid blood,
amid smoke, in a bloody bridal gave her to Alcmene’s child – she, the
Cyprian. (545–53)
Furthermore, if we relate this mythological story to the events in the drama,
it will transpire that it should in the first place serve as an analogy to the
misfortune in which Phaedra, who, like Iole, fell victim to Aphrodite,
found herself, and only further on, as the action develops, will it become
apparent that it equally explains Hippolytus’ misfortune as well.144 Thereby
the lover and the beloved are made equal to each other in their common
misfortune the actual culprit of which is Aphrodite.
The transfer of all responsibility to the gods, and not to Aphrodite
alone,145 can be clearly seen in a further passage – the Nurse’s speculation
about the boundless power of Aphrodite. The Nurse describes the
powerful effect that Aphrodite has on all creation: she dwells in the sea, she
moves in the air, everything in the world is born thanks to her:
φοιτᾷ δ᾽ ἀν᾽ αἰθέρ᾽, ἔστι δ᾽ ἐν θαλασσίῳ
κλύδωνι Κύπρις, πάντα δ᾽ ἐκ ταύτης ἔφυ·
ἥδ᾽ ἐστὶν ἡ σπείρουσα καὶ διδοῦσ᾽ ἔρον,
οὗ πάντες ἐσµὲν οἱ κατὰ χθόν᾽ ἔγγονοι.
She moves through the air, she dwells in the sea-wave, and all that lives
comes from her. She is the sower, the giver of desire, wherefrom all of us
on earth are sprung. (447–50)
The Nurse then proceeds to speak about the ἔρως of the gods, who, like
other living beings, are subject to Aphrodite. Her logic, however, changes
unexpectedly. The examples that she cites express quite a different
meaning: what these examples speak about is not the fact that everyone –
lovers and beloved, gods and mortals – are equally victims of Aphrodite
but the fact that gods in love bring misfortune to their beloved mortals.
Whereas in the narrative of the myth about Heracles and Iole all guilt was
removed from Heracles and transferred to Aphrodite, here gods in love
themselves are shown as active participants in the dramas that unfold, and
mortals upon whom gods’ passion falls turn out to be the only victims:
ὅσοι µὲν οὖν γραφάς τε τῶν παλαιτέρων
ἔχουσιν αὐτοί τ᾽ εἰσὶν ἐν µούσαις ἀεί,
ἴσασι µὲν Ζεὺς ὥς ποτ᾽ ἠράσθη γάµων
110
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 111
Humans, gods and the structure of the dramatic conflict
Σεµέλης, ἴσασι δ᾽ ὡς ἀνήρπασέν ποτε
ἡ καλλιφεγγὴς Κέφαλον ἐς θεοὺς Ἕως
ἔρωτος οὕνεκ᾽·
Those who have the writings of ancient poets and are themselves concerned
with the Muses know that Zeus once lusted for Semele’s bed, know too
that Dawn, goddess of lovely light, once abducted Cephalus to heaven for
love’s sake. (451–6)
Therefore, it is important for Euripides to condemn not just Aphrodite
but all gods in general for causing so much grief to mortals.
All these examples show that behind the human conflict in the drama
there actually stands another conflict – a conflict between gods and
humans. In Hippolytus, the author uses a typical structural model of a
tragedy of revenge in accordance with which the conflict between Phaedra
and Hippolytus is built. This conflict, however, turns out to be nothing
more than an outward appearance; its motivation is taken out of the human
world of the main part of the tragedy into a world where humans interact
with gods – the world of the prologue and exodos. Humans only seem to
be guilty of one another’s misfortunes; it is the evil will of gods which is the
true cause of their misfortunes and of most of their errors. Above,
I quoted passages attesting that Aphrodite’s intention and will stand behind
the conflict between Phaedra and Hippolytus; the same, however, can be
said about the last major transgression in the tragedy – the unjust
punishment of Hippolytus by Theseus, the responsibility for which is also
transferred to Aphrodite (1327). In the end, all three of them – Phaedra,
Hippolytus and Theseus – appear as not guilty of one another’s fate but as
Aphrodite’s victims:
(Ιπ.) τρεῖς ὄντας ἡµᾶς ὤλεσ᾽, ᾔσθηµαι, Κύπρις.
(Αρ.) πατέρα γε καὶ σὲ καὶ τρίτην ξυνάορον.
(Hipp.) She [Aphrodite] alone destroyed us three, I see it now.
(Art.) Yes, your father, you, and Theseus’ wife the third. (1403–4)
This kind of double conflict is needed in order to distinguish between
virtual and actual reality. People – both the characters in Hippolytus and its
spectators – are often convinced of one another’s guilt and responsibility
and are all too ready to condemn and punish others, failing to understand
that misfortunes and transgressions are sometimes the result of circum-
stances beyond human control – mitigating factors which are expressed
through the figures of gods. Opening the spectators’ eyes to the true
meaning of events and contraposing divine motivation to virtual human
motivation, the tragedy shows them the groundlessness of mutual
accusations and persuades them of the need to be forgiving.
111
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 112
Chapter 5
Mitigation of human responsibility, however, is not the only role of gods
in the drama. Another, no less important conceptual role of gods is
revealed through opposition, constantly demonstrated in the play, of the
principles of divine and human behavior.
2. Comparison of the world of humans and the world of gods
The final forgiveness of Theseus by Hippolytus in the exodos is opposite
to Aphrodite’s behavior depicted in the prologue. Even though Hippolytus’
servant prays the goddess to be forgiving to the impetuous and hot-headed
youth, Aphrodite is adamant to his entreaty and carries out her plan
of revenge. Hippolytus is still a tragedy of revenge, only not of human
revenge – since, as we have seen, the conflict between Phaedra and
Hippolytus has only the outward appearance of revenge – but of divine
retribution. Unlike a human conflict in revenge tragedies, such as, for
example, the conflict between Medea and Jason in Medea, the relations
between Aphrodite and Hippolytus are emphatically asymmetrical from
the very beginning. The antagonists are similar only in their actions against
each other: both of them turn out to be σεµνοί (in the pejorative sense –
‘demanding or expecting veneration, self-important, arrogant, haughty’).
Hippolytus’ servant speaks about his undue ‘haughtiness,’ cautioning the
hero against errors; according to him, both gods and humans have a law in
common: µισεῖν τὸ σεµνὸν καὶ τὸ µὴ πᾶσιν φίλον ‘To hate what’s haughty
and not friend to all’ (93). A few lines later the servant applies the epithet
σεµνή to Aphrodite, using it in the favorable sense (πῶς οὖν σὺ σεµνὸν δαίµον᾽
οὐ προσεννέπεις; ‘Then how is it that you make no address to
an august goddess?’ 99); however, the closeness of another, negative usage
and evident similarity in the behavior of Hippolytus and Aphrodite make
one ponder about whether Aphrodite deserves the same reproach of
haughtiness.146
Here, however, the similarity between Hippolytus and Aphrodite ends;
another analogy obligatory for a human revenge tragedy – an analogy in the
situation of two antagonists who by turns become each other’s victims –
is impossible here. Even at the outset of the drama Aphrodite, being an
omnipotent goddess, immediately appears as a victrix and not as a victim
and therefore, unlike Medea or Phaedra, cannot attract sympathy with her
misfortunes and sufferings.
A comparison of characteristic features of gods and humans occupies a
most important place in the conceptual structure of the drama, and this
comparison has two major aspects. Firstly, gods’ power is opposite to
humans’ weakness; secondly, gods’ moral lameness manifesting itself in
their inability to forgive is opposite to the human ability to forgive.147
112
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 113
Humans, gods and the structure of the dramatic conflict
Both these aspects are constantly present in the drama. One of the
central lexical motifs of Hippolytus characterizes the situation of humans,
and it is expressed with the word πόνοι ‘toils, troubles.’ The Nurse, making
her first appearance before the audience at the beginning of the first
epeisodion, complains of her painful lot: she suffers in her heart and toils
with her hands for the sake of her beloved mistress (λύπη τε φρενῶν χερσίν
τε πόνος ‘grief of heart and toil of hand,’ 188). She sums up her own
experience, speaking of the lot of all mortals:
πᾶς δ᾽ ὀδυνηρὸς βίος ἀνθρώπων,
κοὐκ ἔστι πόνων ἀνάπαυσις.
But the life of mortals is wholly trouble, and there is no rest from toil.
(189–90)
Having learnt about the unfortunate lot of Phaedra, obsessed with a passion
for her stepson, the Chorus repeats the Nurse’s assertion: ὦ πόνοι τρέφοντες
βροτούς ‘Oh, the troubles that have mortals in their keeping!’ (367).
The misfortune that happened to Hippolytus at the end of the drama
comes into line with misfortunes suffered by mortals (ὦ πόνος οἴκων,
‘Oh, what trouble has afflicted this house!’ 1344).
Moreover, however much mortals may toil, their labors bring no result.
First, the Nurse, who labors in vain to help Phaedra, eliciting the secret of
her malady, complains of this (ἄλλως τούσδε µοχθοῦµεν πόνους ‘It is in vain
that we endure this toil,’ 301); at the end of the drama, Hippolytus, for
whom death becomes the only reward for his efforts to keep virtue, comes
to the same cheerless conclusion:
µόχθους δ᾽ ἄλλως
τῆς εὐσεβίας
εἰς ἀνθρώπους ἐπόνησα.
All in vain have been my labors of piety towards men (1367–9).
The ease with which gods achieve their goals is quite a contrast to mortals’
toils. Aphrodite, having thought up her plan for revenge, carries it out
without much effort (πόνος):
ἃ δ᾽ εἰς ἔµ᾽ ἡµάρτηκε, τιµωρήσοµαι
Ἱππόλυτον ἐν τῇδ᾽ ἡµέρᾳ· τὰ πολλὰ δὲ
πάλαι προκόψασ᾽ – οὐ πόνου πολλοῦ µε δεῖ.
Yet for his sins against me I shall punish Hippolytus this day. I have already
come a long way with my plans and I need little effort. (21–3)
With the same ease, eternally happy gods leave humans who are about to
die, even if they have entertained a love for them. In the finale, Artemis
113
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 114
Chapter 5
leaves Hippolytus, since her sight cannot be defiled with the last breath of
the dying (1437–8), and Hippolytus bids her farewell with the words:
χαίρουσα καὶ σὺ στεῖχε, παρθέν᾽ ὀλβία·
µακρὰν δὲ λείπεις ῥᾳδίως ὁµιλίαν.
Farewell to you too, blessed maiden! I wish you joy in your going! Yet how
easily you leave our long friendship! (1440–1)
On the other hand, as we have seen, Aphrodite’s vengefulness is opposite
to humans’ ability to forgive affirmed in the finale, and this vengefulness
is not an exceptional feature of the goddess of love: it is equally
characteristic of other gods as well. Thus, Artemis, regretting that she has
not been able to help Hippolytus, for it is beyond her power to oppose
Aphrodite, chooses a different method of proving her affection for the
hero: she will take revenge on Aphrodite by punishing the mortal most
dear to her with her own unerring bow:
ἐγὼ γὰρ αὐτῆς ἄλλον ἐξ ἐµῆς χερὸς
ὃς ἂν µάλιστα φίλτατος κυρῇ βροτῶν
τόξοις ἀφύκτοις τοῖσδε τιµωρήσοµαι.
That mortal of hers that she loves the most I shall punish with these
ineluctable arrows shot from my hand. (1420–2)
The goddesses are not simply vengeful; completely innocent people fall
victims to their revenge: Phaedra dies so that Aphrodite could carry out her
revenge against Hippolytus; someone of the mortals favored by Aphrodite
(presumably Adonis)148 will fall an innocent victim to Artemis’ revenge.
A special part in this double, practical and moral, contrast between gods
and humans is played by the motif of death. Humans are mortal and gods
are not, and so death turns out to be in the center of their contraposition.
Death explains the weakness of humans, yet it is also the source of their
moral ascendancy over gods.
In Hippolytus, death is shown from two points of view, both practical
and moral, and in both these respects it acquires a rather unexpected
positive meaning.
Death is certainly the ultimate misfortune: the death of both main
characters becomes a misfortune for everyone; her fear for the life of her
mistress compels the Nurse to act contrary to accepted moral standards.
Yet at the same time a different, opposite motif is clearly seen in the drama:
in a world where sufferings are endless and inescapable, death brings relief
by releasing one from them.
This motif is most vividly expressed in the Nurse’s opening lines in the
first epeisodion. Complaining of her sorrows, the Nurse expresses her
114
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 115
Humans, gods and the structure of the dramatic conflict
desire to die; this wish is rather typical of a suffering character in a tragedy;
here, however, it is expressed in such an expanded and generalized way
that it seems to be something greater than just a formulaic complaint:
πᾶς δ᾽ ὀδυνηρὸς βίος ἀνθρώπων,
κοὐκ ἔστι πόνων ἀνάπαυσις.
ἀλλ᾽ ὅτι τοῦ ζῆν φίλτερον ἄλλο
σκότος ἀµπίσχων κρύπτει νεφέλαις.
δυσέρωτες δὴ φαινόµεθ᾽ ὄντες
τοῦ δ᾽ ὅτι τοῦτο στίλβει κατὰ γῆν
δι᾽ ἀπειροσύνην ἄλλου βιότου
κοὐκ ἀπόδειξιν τῶν ὑπὸ γαίας,
µύθοις δ᾽ ἄλλως φερόµεσθα.
But the life of mortals is wholly trouble, and there is no rest from toil.
Anything we might love more than life is hid in a surrounding cloud of
darkness, and we are clearly unhappy lovers of whatever light there is that
shines on earth because we are ignorant of another life, since the life below
is not revealed to us. We are borne along futilely by mere tales. (189–97)
In this statement, we can see nearly mystical insights about life after
death.149 In Hippolytus, the motif of desired death appears in other places as
well, in the lines of all the characters without exception – so often that it
attracts attention even despite its formulaic and traditional character for a
tragedy. Further on in the first epeisodion Phaedra, having recollected
herself after her insane speeches addressed to the Nurse, exclaims:
ἀλλὰ κρατεῖ
µὴ γιγνώσκοντ᾽ ἀπολέσθαι.
Best is to perish in unconsciousness. (248–9)
Replying to her, the Nurse also wishes death for herself:
τὸ δ᾽ ἐµὸν πότε δὴ θάνατος
σῶµα καλύψει;
But when will my body be covered in death? (250–1)
The Nurse once again seeks death when she learns about her mistress’s
passion:
ῥίψω µεθήσω σῶµ᾽, ἀπαλλαχθήσοµαι
βίου θανοῦσα· χαίρετ᾽· οὐκέτ᾽ εἴµ᾽ ἐγώ.
I shall throw myself down, die and be quit of life! Farewell, I am gone! (356–7)
The Chorus responds to this news in a similar way – by expressing the
desire to die:
115
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 116
Chapter 5
ὀλοίµαν ἔγωγε πρὶν σᾶν, φίλα,
κατανύσαι φρενῶν.
Death take me, my friend, before I come to share your thoughts. (364–5)
In the next moment of action, in the same first epeisodion, the thought of
desired death appears already not in a formulaic exclamation but in a
rational reasoning. Phaedra arrives at this thought since she considers death
the only way out of the situation in which she has found herself:
κατθανεῖν ἔδοξέ µοι,
κράτιστον – οὐδεὶς ἀντερεῖ – βουλευµάτων.
I resolved on death – the best of plans, as no one shall deny. (401–2)
Phaedra becomes finally firm in her decision in the second epeisodion,
having heard the Nurse’s conversation with Hippolytus; she explains this
decision, describing death as the remedy for her troubles:
οὐκ οἶδα πλὴν ἕν· κατθανεῖν ὅσον τάχος,
τῶν νῦν παρόντων πηµάτων ἄκος µόνον.
I know but one thing, to die with all speed, the sole remedy for my present
troubles (599–600),
and eventually puts it into effect.
In the third epeisodion, Theseus wishes death for himself when he sees
the dead body of his wife:
τὸ κατὰ γᾶς θέλω, τὸ κατὰ γᾶς κνέφας
µετοικεῖν σκότῳ θανὼν ὁ τλάµων,
τῆς σῆς στερηθεὶς φιλτάτης ὁµιλίας·
To the gloom under earth, under earth, I would change my dwelling and
die in darkness, luckless man that I am, since I am bereft of your sweet
converse! (836–8)
Further on Theseus, punishing Hippolytus, sentences him to exile, a
punishment more severe than death, and explains his decision with words
which again emphasize the desirability of death for a wretched man: ταχὺς γὰρ
Ἅιδης ῥᾷστος ἀνδρὶ δυστυχεῖ ‘For a swift death is a mercy for a wretch’ (1047).
In the exodos Artemis, explaining to Theseus that he is wrong, believes
that he should now seek death for himself, for it may be the only refuge
from shame and sorrow:
πῶς οὐχ ὑπὸ γῆς τάρταρα κρύπτεις
δέµας αἰσχυνθείς,
ἢ πτηνὸς ἄνω µεταβὰς βίοτον
πήµατος ἔξω πόδα τοῦδ᾽ ἀνέχεις;
116
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 117
Humans, gods and the structure of the dramatic conflict
Why do you not hide yourself beneath the earth’s depths in shame or change
your life for that of a bird above and take yourself out of this pain? (1290–3)
And, finally, Hippolytus, appearing in the exodos of the drama after his
crash, urges death to come and heal him from pain as fast as it can: καί µοι
θάνατος Παιὰν ἔλθοι ‘May death come to me as healer’ (1373).
Death not only brings relief from suffering. As we saw in Chapter 3, it
purifies the moral world of the tragedy; it is precisely the closeness of death
which makes the characters experience a truly moral feeling that has
formerly been inaccessible to them. The ability to forgive and reconcile
appearing on the eve of death is the motif linking the finale of Hippolytus
and the ending of the Iliad, in which it is death that draws together Achilles
and Priam. Achilles, who has killed many of Priam’s sons, is inspired with
sympathy for the old man, being aware that his own father, Peleus, is also
about to lose his only son (24.538–40);150 they both weep, each thinking of
their own losses and of the grief of those who are destined to lose them
(24.509–12).
Death unites people and estranges them from gods, who not only
cannot die but who cannot be present at the death of humans. Artemis
is vengeful, she does not know forgiveness, and she has to leave the
stage when Hippolytus is dying. The breath of death cannot touch her,
yet it is precisely this breath which awakens true moral feeling and
forgiveness.
Euripides was by no means original in his contrasting representation of
the world of gods and the world of humans. Characteristic of the entire
early Greek literature was conviction of the omnipotence of gods and the
insignificance of mortals, as well as belief that gods preserve order in the
world, punishing not only those mortals who sin against one another but
also those who encroach, in word or in deed, on the prerogatives of gods.151
These ideas permeate the work of Herodotus; they are found everywhere
in archaic lyrics, going back to the Homeric poems. In Homer, gods are
eternally happy, free of cares and live at ease (µάκαρες θεοί ‘blessed gods,’
Il. 1.406; 4.127; 14.143; 20.54; 24.23; 24.99; 24.422; Od. 6.46; 8.306; 12.61;
12.371; 12.377; 14.83; 15.372; 18.134; θεοὶ ῥεῖα ζῶντες ‘gods that live at ease,’
Il. 6.138; Od. 4.805; 5.122). These constant epithets of gods are opposite to
the epithets characterizing the life of humans – ‘wretched’ and ‘miserable’
mortals (δειλοῖσι βροτοῖσιν Il. 22.31; 22.76; 24.525; Od. 11.19; 12.341; 15.408;
ὀϊζυροῖσι βροτοῖσιν Il. 13.569; Od. 4.197). As Achilles said to Priam at the
end of the Iliad:
ὣς γὰρ ἐπεκλώσαντο θεοὶ δειλοῖσι βροτοῖσι
ζώειν ἀχνυµένοις· αὐτοὶ δέ τ᾽ ἀκηδέες εἰσί.
117
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 118
Chapter 5
For on this wise have the gods spun the thread for wretched mortals, that
they should live in pain; and themselves are sorrowless. (24.525–6)152
In the Iliad, we also find the motif of gods’ vengefulness. The words of
Artemis from Hippolytus where she expressed her plans to take revenge on
Aphrodite by punishing the mortal dear to her (Hipp. 1420–2) are a
reminiscence of a passage from the Iliad. In the 4th song of the Iliad, Hera,
speaking with Zeus, insists on destroying Troy and, for the sake of taking
vengeance on that city, gives Zeus permission to raze any of her three most
favorite cities:
ἤτοι ἐµοὶ τρεῖς µὲν πολὺ φίλταταί εἰσι πόληες
Ἄργός τε Σπάρτη τε καὶ εὐρυάγυια Μυκήνη·
τὰς διαπέρσαι ὅτ᾽ ἄν τοι ἀπέχθωνται περὶ κῆρι·
Verily have I three cities that are far dearest in my sight, Argos and Sparta
and broad-wayed Mycenae; these do thou lay waste whensoe’er they shall be
hateful to thy heart. (Il. 4.51–3)
The reciprocal vengeance of Zeus, who will have to kill innocent mortals
only in order to recoup himself for his concession to Hera, turns out to be
quite similar to the vengeful scheme of Artemis.
Thus, in Homer, just as in Euripides, the ‘easiness’ of the life of gods,
combined with their vengefulness, is sometimes colored in sinister shades;153
it is possible that certain moral qualities – the ability to endure the
hardships of life and the capability for true sympathy in the face of
misfortunes – are represented as solely human qualities that are absent in
gods, who do not know these misfortunes.154
Sophocles’ Ajax is even closer to Hippolytus in this respect,155 since the
qualities of Athena, reminiscent of the qualities of the Homeric gods,
directly correlate with the moral qualities of the human characters. In the
prologue of that tragedy, Athena brings Odysseus to witness the maddened
state of Ajax, who is miserable in his madness, and invites him to enjoy,
together with her, the downfall of their common enemy. Odysseus replies
by saying that he cannot feel anything but pity for Ajax and explains
this attitude by his awareness of his own unreliable position in the world
(121–6). Here, Odysseus’ sympathy appears as an emotion peculiar only to
humans: only humans can empathize with others’ misfortunes because
only they themselves can be miserable, and this attitude is clearly opposed
to the pitiless rapture that gods feel when seeing the sufferings of a
vanquished enemy.
In Hippolytus it is precisely a comparison of the moral qualities of gods
and humans which occupies the author. Here, the moral values of the
human world are explicitly contraposed to the principles, immoral and
118
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 119
Humans, gods and the structure of the dramatic conflict
obnoxious, by which gods are governed.156 Gods are vengeful, although
humans expect condescension and forgiveness from them:
χρὴ δὲ συγγνώµην ἔχειν.
εἴ τίς σ᾽ ὑφ᾽ ἥβης σπλάγχνον ἔντονον φέρων
µάταια βάζει, µὴ δόκει τούτων κλύειν·
σοφωτέρους γὰρ χρὴ βροτῶν εἶναι θεούς.
You should be forgiving: if someone because of his youth has an intense
spirit and utters folly, pretend not to hear him. For gods should be wiser
than mortals. (117–20)
We find this moral contrast between gods and humans in some of
Euripides’ other dramas as well. For example, in Andromache, staged at
approximately the same time as Hippolytus, vindictiveness is one of the key
moral themes, and the characters are strictly divided into the good, of
whom this quality is uncharacteristic (Andromache, Peleus), and the
vindictive bad (Hermione, Menelaus, Orestes). Apollo, who did not wish
to forgive Neoptolemus, who had once sinned against him, is put on a par
with the negative characters. According to the messenger who brought the
news of the death of Neoptolemus:
ἐµνηµόνευσε δ᾽, ὥσπερ ἄνθρωπος κακός,
παλαιὰ νείκη· πῶς ἂν οὖν εἴη σοφός;
Like a base mortal, he remembered old quarrels. How then can he be wise?
(1164–5)
Similarly, in the Bacchae Dionysus punishes Pentheus, not knowing pity and
feeling no compassion for the weaker opponent, and then, at the end of the
drama, is condemned by Kadmos, who regards the punishment as just, yet
too severe:
ὡς ὁ θεὸς ἡµᾶς ἐνδίκως µὲν ἀλλ᾽ ἄγαν
Βρόµιος ἄναξ ἀπώλεσ᾽ οἰκεῖος γεγώς.
How justly, yet too severely, Lord Bromius the god has destroyed us, though
he is a member of our own family. (1249–50)
Generally, in Euripides revenge turns out to be a specific prerogative of
gods. When, however, it is mortals who take revenge, they are likened to
gods, losing their human face. It is apparently in this that the meaning of
the symbolic apotheosis of Medea, who appears in the finale like a goddess
in the machine above the orchēstra, lies.157
What meaning then does Euripides want to express, making gods play
such a role in Hippolytus? At the beginning of this chapter I mentioned two
opposite views on the function of gods in this tragedy. Some critics believe
119
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 120
Chapter 5
that gods are just, even though they are cruel, and reduce the meaning of
the drama to the inevitability of punishment for a transgression against
them. Others give more attention to the condemnation of gods and thus
find a theomachist meaning in Hippolytus. Each of these two opinions does
not take account of those aspects of the drama, which are the basis for the
opposite opinion. The adherents of the former point of view underestimate
the fact that Aphrodite is condemned for her cruelty and the adherents of
the latter opinion underestimate the fact that Aphrodite, while she is
condemned, is at the same time represented as a real and irresistible force.
Moreover, the punishment of Hippolytus is, in a sense, just and deserved,
as is the punishment of Neoptolemus in Andromache and that of Pentheus
in the Bacchae.158 In Euripides’ tragedies, even those characters who accuse
gods of excessive cruelty and inability to forgive nevertheless recognize
their justice, and the very word δίκη is uttered by Kadmos in the Bacchae and
by the messenger in Andromache, even though the latter does this with bitter
sarcasm.
Thus, Aphrodite in Hippolytus, similarly to Apollo in Andromache and
Dionysus in the Bacchae, is just and, at the same time, condemned. It is this
fact, paradoxical at first glance, that has key significance for understanding
the function of gods in these plays. Gods are not simply just: they to some
extent epitomize inviolable and cruel justice, and it is this justice that proves
to be immoral in all the three dramas. In Hippolytus, another principle of social
life different from δίκη – a principle of leniency and forgiveness affirmed,
by contrast to divine justice, as a true moral value – is contraposed to it.
It is not the criticism of gods per se which interests Euripides: gods
represent natural forces criticizing which is senseless, and such criticism
can have no moral significance. Euripides introduces them as a contrast
and opposition to the values that should exist in the human world. One can
also see still another, special meaning in the moral contrast between gods
and humans in Hippolytus if one asks oneself what exactly the Greeks called
divine justice. As for gods, the Greeks viewed them as forces, external to
the conscious human will, influencing human life. Underlying the concept
of justice from the very beginning was the idea of the need for a reward
according to one’s deserts – an idea which is best expressed in an epic
fragment: ‘If he suffers as he did, straight justice will be done’ (Hesiod
fr. 286 Merkelbach-West). Justice was always the main attribute of Zeus
and other gods and played the role of a universal law acting in the world,
similar to our laws of conservation – the breaking of the law is always
followed by retribution. This law governing all reality external to the human
will was in fact a natural law,159 and it was not without reason that the
religious notion about δίκη served as the basis for the first formulations of
120
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 121
Humans, gods and the structure of the dramatic conflict
natural laws by the early nature philosophers. Naturally, man had to comply
with that law, for otherwise, as he saw it, he would be punished; any
violation of the set limits, whether through hybristic actions or through
excessive happiness and wealth brought about inevitable retribution.
However, the observation of that law as a physical law did not require of
man any moral efforts; man simply had constantly to take it into account
as an inviolable given.
The principle of behavior contrasted to δίκη in Hippolytus – the principle
of leniency and forgiveness – is, unlike δίκη, a moral law. It is determined
not by the organization of the universe and not by the rules by which
natural forces external to man are governed but only by man’s own moral
determination.
Therefore, the contrast between human morality and divine justice in
Hippolytus is an affirmation of the autonomy of this morality and its
independence of the law governing nature. In effect, what we see here
is an artistic expression of the philosophical idea which would later on
largely determine European ethical thought – the idea of independence of
morality from nature.160
Not infrequently, moral norms when they are different from the order
of things existing in nature or even are opposite to it, as they are in
Hippolytus, require some authority to sanction them, some law-giver, for
their affirmation. In Hippolytus, in spite of everything, human morality,
different from divine morality, is determined by a deity – Artemis. Even
though she herself, just as other gods, follows entirely different rules,
nevertheless it is she who demands forgiveness and reconciliation in the
finale of the drama (1431–6), and it is with reference to her will that
Hippolytus forgives his father: λύω δὲ νεῖκος πατρὶ χρῃζούσης σέθεν ‘Still, at
your bidding I end my quarrel with my father’ (1442).
121
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 122
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 123
6
IMAGES OF NATURE
In the previous chapters we discussed ‘direct’ motifs, i.e. motifs directly
expressing certain ideas of the world and human life (e.g., motifs of virtue,
ignorance, forgiveness). In addition to these ‘direct’ motifs a major role in
Hippolytus is played by ‘figurative’, or ‘image’ motifs, i.e., motifs possessing
figurative meaning. For example, scholars have long noted certain images
of nature161 recurring throughout the drama and apparently having a symbolic
meaning. Such images are incorporated in the overall motif structure of
the tragedy. They are in various associative relations with ‘direct’ motifs
and together with them participate in creating the general meaning of the
play. In addition, they are developed and transformed in the course of the
tragedy, being subordinated to its dramatic dynamics, and their development
and transformation lend the play almost a musical dynamic integrity.
The recurrent images in Hippolytus fall under two spheres. Some of them
are visualized and belong to the scenic space, whereas others exist only in
characters’ words and describe elements of the non-scenic space. In this
chapter, I shall examine the latter group of images, which is constituted
mainly by images of nature, and in the next, final chapter I shall dwell on
the former group that may be called ‘scenic imagery.’ In analyzing the
images of nature, I shall touch upon their two most significant aspects.
Firstly, I shall try to answer the question as to how precisely the semantics
of the recurrent images is connected to the conceptual meaning of the
tragedy described in the previous chapters. Secondly, I shall try to define
what relations the images in Hippolytus have with images in other dramas
of Euripides. It will be argued that we can speak about the existence of a
unified image language used by Euripides in different dramas, and the
implementation of this language in Hippolytus has its own special features
determined by the particular artistic and conceptual idea of the play.
As scholars have noted more than once, in classical literature nature
normally served not just as the geographical and spatial framing of human
actions but was also given a symbolic meaning, expressing, by association,
various aspects of human existence.162 The presence of such symbolic
meaning in the elements of the natural world appearing in Hippolytus is evident
enough; but their precise meanings still require particular discussion.
123
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 124
Chapter 6
A major place in Hippolytus is occupied by the image of the sea, which
is present in it almost from the first to the last verse.163 This image was
analyzed in detail by Segal, who linked its meaning to Aphrodite – a
goddess ‘born from the sea,’ who ‘has all its irrational elementality.’ 164
In Segal’s opinion, the development of the image of the sea in the drama
expresses the gradually unfolding violence of Aphrodite’s power, which
imposes mandatory requirements on man and punishes him for neglecting
them. This explanation of the image of the sea is in line with Segal’s general
idea of the meaning of Hippolytus: in his opinion, the conception of the
tragedy is to assert the mighty power and inevitability of physical love.165
If, however, we take a closer look at how the image of the sea functions
in Hippolytus and compare its examples in the drama with its appearances
in other texts, in the first place, in other dramas by Euripides, it will transpire
that it has no specific and exclusive association with Aphrodite. Traditionally,
this image expressed the miseries and sufferings accompanying human
existence; such is its meaning in Hippolytus as well, and its association with
Aphrodite, which is sometimes actually to be found in the tragedy, is
explained by the mere fact that Aphrodite appears in it as the primary cause
of people’s miseries.
The semantic connection between the sea and people’s miseries in
Hippolytus is both metaphoric (based on similarity) and metonymic (based
on contiguity). First of all, we find here a metaphor, typical of Greek
tragedy, of sailing on a ‘sea of troubles,’ 166 which is applied to the situation
of all the main characters. At the beginning of the drama, in the parodos,
this metaphor describes Phaedra’s misery and sufferings. The heroine is
likened to a ship striving to reach the shore, and it is death, viewed as the
only possible deliverance from miseries, that serves as this metaphoric
shore:
κρυπτῷ πάθει θανάτου θέλουσαν
κέλσαι ποτὶ τέρµα δύστανον.
Wishing because of some secret grief to ground her life’s craft in the
unhappy journey’s-end of death. (139–140)167
Then, in a dialogue with the Nurse at the beginning of the first epeisodion,
Phaedra compares her bitter fate to a sea storm. ‘There is another storm
of fate which tosses me’ (ἄλλῃ δ᾽ ἐν τύχῃ χειµάζοµαι, 315, cf. χειµών, Aeschylus
Ch. 202, Pr. 1015), the heroine responds to the Nurse’s erroneous guesses
about the causes of her misfortune. It is hard to get out of that storm – to
‘swim out’ of the misfortunes, as the Nurse says to Phaedra, using the same
metaphor of swimming in a storm:
124
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 125
Images of nature
ἐς δὲ τὴν τύχην
πεσοῦσ᾽ ὅσην σὺ πῶς ἂν ἐκνεῦσαι δοκεῖς;
But when you have tumbled into misfortunes as great as yours, how can
you think you might swim out of them? (469–70)
Like a ship, Phaedra is ‘waterlogged’ by her misfortunes: χαλεπᾷ δ᾽ ὑπέραντλος
οὖσα συµφορᾷ (769), as the Chorus describes her situation before her
suicide.168
This metaphoric complex, that of Phaedra’s swimming in the tempestuous
sea of troubles and searching for rescue in the harbor of death, finds its
logical conclusion in likening the rope with which the heroine hangs herself
to a mooring cable. This likening is suggested by the parallelism between
the second strophe and the second antistrophe of the second stasimon.169
Depicted in the strophe is the cable used for mooring the ship, which had
unluckily brought Phaedra from Crete to Athens, to the shore:
Μουνίχου δ᾽ ἀκταῖσιν ἐκ–
δήσαντο πλεκτὰς πεισµάτων
ἀρχάς ἐπ᾽ ἀπείρου τε γᾶς ἔβασαν
They tied the plaited ends of the mooring-cable on Munichus’ shore and
trod the mainland (761–3);
the antistrophe describes how Phaedra ties around her neck a rope fastened
to the ceiling:
χαλεπᾷ δ᾽ ὑπέραντλος οὖσα συµφορᾷ τεράµνων
ἀπὸ νυµφιδίων κρεµαστὸν ἅψεται ἀµφὶ βρόχον
λευκᾷ καθαρµόζουσα δεί–
ρᾳ,
Waterlogged by her hard misfortune she will fasten about her from the
beams of her bridal chamber a hanging noose, fitting it about her white
neck. (769–72)
This parallelism, which makes one think about comparing the rope with a
mooring cable, is enhanced by the use in the second passage of the naval
image of a ship sinking in a storm (ὑπέραντλος ‘waterlogged’) with respect
to the misfortunes that befell the heroine.
The other characters also gradually begin their sailing on the sea of
troubles. When Theseus learns about Phaedra’s death and sees her dead
body, he exclaims:
κακῶν δ᾽, ὢ τάλας, πέλαγος εἰσορῶ
τοσοῦτον ὥστε µήποτ᾽ ἐκνεῦσαι πάλιν
µηδ᾽ ἐκπερᾶσαι κῦµα τῆσδε συµφορᾶς.
125
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 126
Chapter 6
Unhappy, I look upon a main of troubles so great I cannot swim out of
them or emerge from the wave of this sorrow (822–4),
and the words ἐκνεῦσαι ‘swim out’ and ἐκπερᾶσαι ‘emerge from’ used here
clearly echo with Phaedra’s misfortunes (cf. ἐκνεῦσαι about Phaedra in 470
and δυσεκπέρατον in 678).170
Then Theseus punishes Hippolytus, sending him into exile where he
will ‘draw a life of misery’ (λυπρὸν ἀντλήσει βίον, 898, cf. 1049), just as
Phaedra did (ὑπέραντλος, 769), shipping a sea of her troubles. And, finally,
at the moment Hippolytus’ chariot crashes, the charioteer – Hippolytus –
is compared with an oarsman:
ἥρπασ᾽ ἡνίας χεροῖν
ἕλκει δὲ κώπην ὥστε ναυβάτης ἀνὴρ
ἱµᾶσιν ἐς τοὔπισθεν ἀρτήσας δέµας·
He seized the reins in his hands and pulled them like a sailor does an oar,
letting his body hang backwards from the thongs (1220–2),
captain (ναυκλήρου, 1224) or helmsman (ἔχων οἴακας ‘holding the helm,’
1227); thus, the very crash of the chariot becomes similar to a shipwreck.171
In addition to the metaphoric sea of troubles,172 the motif of an actual
voyage on the sea appears in Hippolytus. This image of a sea voyage every
time carries a metonymic association with misfortunes (a voyage is either
a cause or a particular instance of misfortunes) and, through this
association, it becomes a symbol expressing people’s bitter fate. Above,
I mentioned Phaedra’s voyage from Crete to Athens, described in the
second strophe of the second stasimon (752–63), which, according to the
Chorus, was fraught with evil omen, for it eventually brought about the
heroine’s misfortune and sufferings:
ὦ λευκόπτερε Κρησία
πορθµίς, ἃ διὰ πόντιον
κῦµ᾽ ἁλίκτυπον ἅλµας
ἐπόρευσας ἐµὰν ἄνασσαν ὀλβίων ἀπ᾽ οἴκων,
κακονυµφοτάταν ὄνασιν. ἦ γὰρ ἀπ᾽ ἀµφοτέρων
<Μινωίδος τ᾽> ἐκ γᾶς δύσορ–
νις ἔπτατο κλεινὰς Ἀθή–
νας Μουνίχου τ᾽ ἀκταῖσιν ἐκ–
δήσαντο πλεκτὰς πεισµάτων
ἀρχάς ἐπ᾽ ἀπείρου τε γᾶς ἔβασαν.
O Cretan vessel with wing of white canvas, that ferried over the loud-
sounding wave of the sea my lady from her house of blessedness, a boon
that was no boon to make an unhappy bride: it was with evil omen, at the
start of her journey and its end, that she sped from the land of Crete to
126
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 127
Images of nature
glorious Athens and they tied the plaited ends of the mooring-cable on
Munichus’ shore and trod the mainland. (752–63)
This voyage turns out to be one in a whole series of ill-fated voyages. In the
prologue, Aphrodite speaks about the voyage that brought Theseus and
Phaedra from Athens to Troizen: καὶ τήνδε σὺν δάµαρτι ναυστολεῖ χθόνα ‘And
he sailed with his wife to this land’ (36): the move to Troizen, where
Phaedra’s beloved Hippolytus resided, heightened the heroine’s passion
(38–9).
The origin of that passion, however, was also related to a sea voyage:
it resulted from Hippolytus’ trip from Troizen to Athens for participating
in holy mysteries. As Aphrodite, who conceived this course of events,
says,
One day when he came from Pittheus’ house to the land of Pandion to see
and celebrate the holy mysteries of Demeter, his father’s high-born wife
Phaedra saw him, and her heart was seized with a dreadful longing by my
design (24–8).
In the course of the drama, not only sea voyages but also other spatial
movements, referred to as ‘wandering’ (φοιτᾶν, ἀλητεύειν)173 – a concept
which in Greek literature often connotes misfortune – become associated
with misery and sufferings. The main wandering in the tragedy coincides
with its catastrophe: it is the wandering of Hippolytus being sent into exile.
Theseus sentences his son to a ‘life of misery’ to be spent in wandering:
ἀλλ᾽ ἐκ πατρῴας φυγὰς ἀλητεύων χθονὸς
ξένην ἐπ᾽ αἶαν λυπρὸν ἀντλήσεις βίον.
Going as a wanderer from your ancestral land over foreign soil you will keep
baling our life of misery (1048–9),174
and then the Chorus and Hippolytus himself lament his bitter fate – the
loss of his house and his departure for another land (ἄλλαν ἐπ᾽ αἶαν ἱέµενον
‘going forth to another land,’ 1125; συζύγιαι Χάριτες, τί τὸν τάλαν᾽ ἐκ πατρίας
γᾶς / οὐδὲν ἄτας αἴτιον / πέµπετε τῶνδ᾽ ἀπ᾽ οἴκων; ‘Ye yoked Graces, why send
ye forth the unhappy man, all guiltless of this calamity, from his native
land, away from this his home?,’ 1148–50; πόλις γὰρ οὐκέτ᾽ ἔστιν ἥδε µοι
‘No longer is this my city,’ 1184; cf. also τλήµονας φυγάς, 1177).
Hippolytus’ ‘wandering’ ends with the crash of his chariot, which, as
was mentioned above, is likened to a shipwreck; this imparts naval
associations, typical of this motif, to the motif of wandering. The naval
metaphor is also combined with a symbolic use of the image of the sea and
a sea wave in the scene of the crash. The crash takes place on the shore
where the land meets the sea; the sea rises to form a great wave (κλύδων and
127
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 128
Chapter 6
τρικυµία, 1213, are words that were particularly often used in the metaphor
‘wave of troubles,’ cf. note 166), and it is out of this wave that the
monstrous bull, which becomes the cause of the disaster, appears. This
conclusion sums up all the symbolic associations which the image of the
sea had throughout the drama: the sea appears as a symbol of the
destructive reality in which human life is lived; this reality brings sufferings
and death to people, and they end up being its helpless victims.
The association of a sea voyage and any wandering in general with
misfortunes and sufferings is traditional of Greek poetry, going as far back
as the Odyssey. These motifs in their interrelation play a major part in some
of Euripides’ tragedies – above all, in Medea, Iphigenia in Tauris, and Helen.
Particularly noteworthy is the presence of the motif of wandering in
Medea – a tragedy that is close to Hippolytus both in time of its creation and
in some of its themes.
The motif of a sea voyage appears in Medea already in the prologue, just as
it does in Hippolytus, and, just as in Hippolytus, sea voyages are represented
here as the cause of the tragic events unfolding in the play. It is already in the
first verses of the drama that mention is made of the first cause of misfortunes
– the ship Argo aboard which Jason sailed for Colchis after the Golden
Fleece and in which he carried Medea away from her father’s home:
Εἴθ᾽ ὤφελ᾽ Ἀργοῦς µὴ διαπτάσθαι σκάφος
Κόλχων ἐς αἶαν κυανέας Συµπληγάδας,
µηδ᾽ ἐν νάπαισι Πηλίου πεσεῖν ποτε
τµηθεῖσα πεύκη, µηδ᾽ ἐρετµῶσαι χέρας
ἀνδρῶν ἀρίστων οἳ τὸ πάγχρυσον δέρος
Πελίᾳ µετῆλθον. οὐ γὰρ ἂν δέσποιν᾽ ἐµὴ
Μήδεια πύργους γῆς ἔπλευσ᾽ Ἰωλκίας
ἔρωτι θυµὸν ἐκπλαγεῖσ᾽ Ἰάσονος·
Would that the Argo had never winged its way to the land of Colchis
through the dark-blue Symplegades! Would that the pine trees had never
been felled in the glens of Mount Pelion and furnished oars for the hands
of the heroes who at Pelias’ command set forth in quest of the Golden
Fleece! For then my lady Medea would not have sailed to the towers of the
Iolcian land, her heart smitten with love for Jason. (1–8)
Such regrets about a ship, the beginning of all troubles, are found in other
tragedies of Euripides as well. In Helen, the main heroine speaks in similar
words about the ship in which Paris sailed to carry off Helen:
φεῦ φεῦ, τίς ἢ Φρυγῶν
ἢ τίς Ἑλλανίας ἀπὸ χθονὸς
ἔτεµε τὰν δακρυόεσσαν
Ἰλίῳ πεύκαν;
128
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 129
Images of nature
ἔνθεν ὀλόµενον σκάφος
συναρµόσας ὁ Πριαµίδας
ἔπλευσε βαρβάρῳ πλάτᾳ
τὰν ἐµὰν ἐφ᾽ ἑστίαν
Ah! Who was it, either from Phrygia or from Hellas, who cut the pine that
brought tears to Ilion? From this wood the son of Priam built his deadly
ship, and sailed by barbarian oars to my home. (229–35)
In Hecuba, mention is also made of Paris’s ship:
ἐµοὶ χρῆν συµφοράν,
ἐµοὶ χρῆν πηµονὰν γενέσθαι,
Ἰδαίαν ὅτε πρῶτον ὕλαν
Ἀλέξανδρος εἰλατίναν
ἐτάµεθ᾽, ἅλιον ἐπ᾽ οἶδµα ναυστολήσων
Ἑλένας ἐπὶ λέκτρα,
Woe and tribulation were made my lot in life, when Alexander first cut his
beams of pine in Ida’s woods, to sail across the heaving sea in quest of
Helen’s bed. (629–35)
All these passages were modeled on the place in the Iliad (5.62–4) where,
in the story about the Trojan shipbuilder, Paris’s ships are described as the
beginning of all mischief:
ὃς καὶ Ἀλεξάνδρῳ τεκτήνατο νῆας ἐΐσας
ἀρχεκάκους, αἳ πᾶσι κακὸν Τρώεσσι γένοντο
οἷ τ᾽ αὐτῷ
He it was that made the ships for Alexander, which were the beginning of
all mischief, and brought evil alike both on the Trojans and on Alexander
himself.
Apparently, the passage from the second stasimon of Hippolytus about the
fateful ship which brought Phaedra from Crete to Athens and which was
also the beginning of all mischief should also be read in the context of
these parallels.175 The only thing is that in Hippolytus this motif is somewhat
modified and the ship is shown not during its construction or the felling
of timber for building it but in a situation of the beginning and end
of a voyage; as a matter of fact, however, Medea demonstrates the possibility
of using different variants featuring most diverse points in the ship’s
destiny.176
Related to a sea voyage and wandering is yet another motif bringing
Hippolytus and Medea close together – the motif of loss of one’s home.
In Hippolytus, it first, in the second stasimon, describes Phaedra’s situation
(ἐπόρευσας ἐµὰν ἄνασσαν ὀλβίων ἀπ᾽ οἴκων ‘you ferried...my lady from her
129
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 130
Chapter 6
house of blessedness,’ 755) and then that of Hippolytus being expelled
from his home (συζύγιαι Χάριτες, τί τὸν τάλαν᾽ ἐκ πατρίας γᾶς / οὐδὲν ἄτας
αἴτιον / πέµπετε τῶνδ᾽ ἀπ᾽ οἴκων; ‘Ye yoked Graces, why send ye forth the
unhappy man, all guiltless of this calamity, from his native land, away from
this his home?’ 1148–50; πόλις γὰρ οὐκέτ᾽ ἔστιν ἥδε µοι ‘No longer is this my
city,’1184).177
In Medea, this motif appears as early as the prologue; according to the
Nurse, Medea, having found herself in misfortune, realized why she should
not have left her father’s home:
ἔγνωκε δ᾽ ἡ τάλαινα συµφορᾶς ὕπο
οἷον πατρῴας µὴ ἀπολείπεσθαι χθονός.
The poor woman has learned at misfortune’s hand what a good thing it is
not to be cut off from one’s native land. (34–5)
Then, in the first epeisodion, Medea herself, aiming to raise sympathy
among the Corinthian women, complains of her fate in the following
words:
ἐγὼ δ᾽ ἔρηµος ἄπολις οὖσ᾽ ὑβρίζοµαι
πρὸς ἀνδρός, ἐκ γῆς βαρβάρου λελῃσµένη,
οὐ µητέρ᾽, οὐκ ἀδελφόν, οὐχὶ συγγενῆ
µεθορµίσασθαι τῆσδ᾽ ἔχουσα συµφορᾶς.
While I, without relatives or city, am suffering outrage from my husband.
I was carried off as booty from a foreign land and have no mother, no
brother, no kinsman to find haven from this calamity. (255–8)
In doing so, she metaphorically uses the verb µεθορµίσασθαι ‘to move into
a haven,’ applying the image of a sea voyage to her wandering far from
home; thus, a sea voyage is a kind of a model for describing any wandering
in general.
The Chorus echoes Medea’s lamentations: σὺ δ᾽ ἐκ µὲν οἴκων πατρίων
ἔπλευσας ‘But you sailed from your father’s halls’ (432); and σοὶ δ᾽ οὔτε
πατρὸς δόµοι, / δύστανε, µεθορµίσα– / σθαι µόχθων πάρα ‘You have no father’s
home in which to find haven from toils, unhappy woman’ (441–3), with the
same ‘naval’ verb µεθορµίσασθαι.
Having left her father’s home, Medea, just as Phaedra, casts herself into
fresh wandering. Just like Theseus and Phaedra, Medea and Jason go into
exile: having left Iolcus, she goes to Corinth. This fresh wandering of
Medea, just like Phaedra and Theseus being sent into exile, is mentioned
already in the opening verses of the prologue:
οὐδ᾽ ἂν κτανεῖν πείσασα Πελιάδας κόρας
πατέρα κατῴκει τήνδε γῆν Κορινθίαν
130
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 131
Images of nature
ξὺν ἀνδρὶ καὶ τέκνοισιν, ἁνδάνουσα µὲν
†φυγῇ πολιτῶν† ὧν ἀφίκετο χθόνα,
αὐτή τε πάντα ξυµφέρουσ᾽ Ἰάσονι·.
She would not have persuaded the daughters of Pelias to kill their father
and hence now be inhabiting this land of Corinth, with her husband and
children, an exile loved by the citizens to whose land she had come, and
lending to Jason himself all her support. (9–14)
This narrative directly follows the account of Medea’s flight from her home
(6–8); thus, the heroine’s banishment is correlated with her departure from
her home and shown to be part – a new stage and a new example – of the
very same wandering. Finally, the new stage of Medea’s wandering is her
banishment this time from Corinth, in consequence of which the heroine
finds herself without a shelter until Aegeus, the ruler of Athens, agrees to
give her refuge.
However, for all the outward similarity of the sailing and wandering in
Medea and Hippolytus, there is a profound and very substantial difference
between these two tragedies. In Hippolytus, the characters’ role is always
passive; they are not guilty of their wandering but are doomed to it by the
will of circumstances, whereas in Medea the heroine’s wandering is
somehow determined by her conscious will. At the beginning of Medea, all
the misfortunes are explained by the building and sailing of the ship Argo,
yet as the drama progresses, the motif of the guilt of Medea, who left her
home not because she was forced to, but who betrayed it (πατρός τε καὶ γῆς
προδότιν ἥ σ᾽ ἐθρέψατο ‘betrayer of father and of the land that nourished
you,’ 1332), sounds ever more clearly. The exile of Theseus and Phaedra
in Hippolytus and that of Medea and Jason in Medea, looking similar at
first sight, also have entirely different primary causes. In both cases, the
exile is a punishment for killings – the killing by Theseus of the Pallantidai
and the killing by Medea of Pelias; in Hippolytus, however, in contrast to
Medea, the killing is not an intentional and premeditated crime, which is
emphasized by mentioning the short length and voluntary nature of the
exile (ἐνιαυσίαν ἔκδηµον αἰνέσας φυγήν ‘consenting to a year-long exile from
his home,’ 37).178
In addition to having different causes, the wandering of Medea and the
characters in Hippolytus ends differently: both Phaedra and Hippolytus die,
whereas Medea eventually obtains a refuge, having persuaded Aegeus to
give her asylum.
It should be noted that although Medea’s misfortunes are described with
the same metaphoric language of seafaring as the misfortunes passed
through by the characters in Hippolytus, certain shared images are developed
in different ways in these two dramas. At the beginning of Medea its
131
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 132
Chapter 6
heroine, going through one misfortune after another, is likened to a ship
being flooded with more and more water, so much so that there is no time
to bale it out:
ἀπωλόµεσθ᾽ ἄρ᾽, εἰ κακὸν προσοίσοµεν
νέον παλαιῷ, πρὶν τόδ᾽ ἐξηντληκέναι.
We are done for, it seems, if we add this new trouble to our old ones before
we’ve bailed out the latter. (78–9)
In Hippolytus, as we already mentioned above, a similar image of a ship
being flooded with misfortune describes the situation of Phaedra (767) and
then of Hippolytus (898 and 1049). In Medea, just as in Hippolytus, there
appears a metaphor of a sea of troubles which the heroine, banished from
Corinth, has to sail up to a certain time:
ποῖ ποτε τρέψῃ; τίνα πρὸς ξενίαν
ἢ δόµον ἢ χθόνα σωτῆρα κακῶν
[ἐξευρήσεις];
ὡς εἰς ἄπορόν σε κλύδωνα θεός,
Μήδεια, κακῶν ἐπόρευσε.
O dear, where will you turn? To what protector of strangers, what house,
what land, to save you from calamity? Medea, a god has cast you into a
hopeless sea of troubles. (359–63)
At first the exile cannot find a safe haven to shelter her from calamities.
This metaphor, already mentioned above, is repeated several times.
Medea complains to the Chorus that she has no place where she could
‘find haven from this calamity’ (µεθορµίσασθαι τῆσδ᾽...συµφορᾶς, 257–8).
Then, with similar lamentations, she tries to move Creon to pity: κοὐκ ἔστιν
ἄτης εὐπρόσοιστος ἔκβασις ‘there is no haven from disaster that I can
reach’ (279),179 and the Chorus echoes the heroine, using the same image
(µεθορµίσασθαι / µόχθων πάρα, 442–3).
Finally, Aegeus promises help to Medea, and the metaphor of a safe
haven is immediately applied to him:
οὗτος γὰρ ἁνὴρ ᾗ µάλιστ᾽ ἐκάµνοµεν
λιµὴν πέφανται τῶν ἐµῶν βουλευµάτων·
For this man, at the very point where I was most in trouble, has appeared
as a harbor for my plans. (768–9)
As Mastronarde rightly noted, the metaphor of sailing on a sea of troubles
in Medea shows the heroine’s movement from helplessness and passivity to
control of the vessel of her life.180 In this, her situation differs from the
destiny of the characters in Hippolytus perishing in the abyss of calamities.
132
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 133
Images of nature
Hippolytus, as we saw above, suffers a metaphoric shipwreck, and Phaedra,
even though she finds a safe haven, finds it only in death.
The symbolic motif of sailing on the sea also plays a major part in
Euripides’ two later tragedies, Iphigenia in Tauris and Helen. These two
dramas offer yet another example of how traditional and typical images
are given special meanings and functions subordinate to the specific artistic
conception of the play.
In both these tragedies, just as in Medea and Hippolytus, the sea and
sailings on the sea are associated in the first place with human calamities.
In Helen, this assessment of the meaning of the sea is expressed through
frequent combination of the motifs of wandering on the sea and of
calamities, sufferings and wretchedness.
In the prologue, Teucer, unjustly exiled by his father from his home
and roaming on the sea in search of shelter, appears on the seashore in
Egypt – the country where Helen is languishing and where Menelaus will
soon be sent. Teucer tells Helen about himself: φυγὰς πατρῴας ἐξελήλαµαι
χθονός ‘I am an exile, driven out of my native land’ (90), to which Helen
replies: τλήµων ἂν εἴης ‘You must be unhappy!’ (91).
Teucer brings Helen news of the sad fate of Menelaus, who is also
roaming on the sea and who may even have perished at sea; having learnt
this news, Helen exclaims in despair:
ὁ δ᾽ ἐµὸς ἐν ἁλὶ πολυπλανὴς
πόσις ὀλόµενος οἴχεται,
My husband, after much wandering on the sea, has died and is gone. (203–4)
Similarly, Menelaus himself, having barely made it to the shore after a
shipwreck, combines misery and wandering in his narrative of his
misfortunes: ἐγὼ δ᾽ ἐπ᾽ οἶδµα πόντιον γλαυκῆς ἁλὸς / τλήµων ἀλῶµαι ‘But I wander
miserably over the swelling waves of the gray ocean’ (400–1); and a little
later: ὦ δύστηνος, οἷ πέπλευκ᾽ ἄρα ‘O wretched, that I have sailed here!’ (461).
Further on, Menelaus’ wandering and his sufferings are linked together
by the Chorus:
ἀλλ᾽ ἔτι κατ᾽ οἶδµ᾽ ἅλιον
τρυχόµενος οὔπω λιµένων
ψαύσειεν πατρίας γᾶς,
ἀλατείᾳ βιότου
ταλαίφρων,
But he is still wearing out his life on the ocean swell and has not yet reached
the haven of his country, wretched in his wandering life (520–4),
and then by Helen:
133
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 134
Chapter 6
πορθµοὺς δ᾽ ἀλᾶσθαι µυρίους πεπλωκότα
ἐκεῖσε κἀκεῖσ᾽ οὐδ᾽ ἀγύµναστον πλάνοις,
ἥξειν <δ᾽> ὅταν δὴ πηµάτων λάβῃ τέλος.
He is roaming here and there on countless voyages, not without practice in
wandering, and he shall come here when he finds an end to his suffering.
(532–4)
The same association continues further on when Helen, having met
Menelaus, asks him about his adventures with these words:
ἓν δ᾽ εἰπὲ τἄλλα παραλιπών, πόσον χρόνον
πόντου ᾽πὶ νώτοις ἅλιον ἐφθείρου πλάνον;
Leave out the rest, and tell me only this: how long were you a weary
wanderer over the surface of the sea? (773–4)
Following Iliad, the beginning of all troubles in Helen, just as in other
tragedies with nautical imagery, is linked to the building and sailing of the
first ship – the one aboard which Paris went to fetch Helen (229–231).
The same association between wandering on the sea and sufferings is
present in Iphigenia in Tauris. From the very beginning of the drama, the
audience see the distressful situation of a whole group of characters – the
Chorus and Orestes with Pylades, whom their fate took to an overseas
barbarian land. Here, just as in Hippolytus and Medea, the motif of sailing
sometimes turns from literal into metaphoric: actual sailing on the sea
becomes the basis for the metaphor of sailing on the sea of troubles. In the
scene in which Orestes persuades Iphigenia to keep Pylades alive by killing
Orestes himself, he compares his own role in their undertaking with that
of the captain of a ship sailing on the sea of troubles and likens Pylades to
a companion of that captain:
ὁ ναυστολῶν γάρ εἰµ᾽ ἐγὼ τὰς συµφοράς,
οὗτος δὲ συµπλεῖ τῶν ἐµῶν µόχθων χάριν.
I am the one who is sailing on the sea of these troubles, and he has sailed
with me to share my toils. (599–600)
Considering that Orestes and Pylades are making not only a metaphoric
sailing on the sea of troubles but also an actual sailing to the Tauric land,
a strict boundary between metaphoric and actual meaning is non-existent
in this case.
Thus, Helen and Iphigenia in Tauris manifest profound closeness to
Hippolytus in terms of nautical imagery. Yet nonetheless there is one specific
feature that distinguishes them from Hippolytus: dramatic development in
them leads to a transformation and total revision of the image of the sea.
134
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 135
Images of nature
In the course of action, the traditional negative role that the sea plays at the
beginning of these tragedies changes into a positive one. For example, in
Iphigenia the sea serves as the main theme of two stasima, the first and
the second one, and the echoing and contrast between them vividly
demonstrate the transformation of this image. In the first stasimon, it is the
sea voyage of Orestes and Pylades that forms the content of the Chorus’
song. Their way lies from their home to a barbarian land, and this direction
of the voyage determines the negative view of the sea. The voyage of the
two friends brings to the Chorus’ mind the mythological story of the
movement of Io, driven by the gadfly, along the same way:
κυάνεαι κυάνεαι σύνοδοι θαλάσσας,
ἵν᾽ οἶστρος †ὁ πετόµενος Ἀργόθεν†
ἄξενον ἐπ’ οἶδµα διεπέρασεν < >
Ἀσιήτιδα γαῖαν
Εὐρώπας διαµείψας.
Dark dark constrictions of the sea,181 where the gadfly that flew from Argos
passed over the wave of the inhospitable sea to Asia’s land, leaving Europe
behind. (392–8)
Just as Io was in her day, Orestes is driven by terrible pursuers, and his
path lies across the same ‘inhospitable sea’ (ἄξεινον κατὰ πόντον, 438) to the
‘unsociable land’ (ἔβασαν ἔβασαν ἄµεικτον αἶαν, 402).
In the second stasimon, on the contrary, the heroes’ path leads them
home and not from home. The Chorus sings of the main characters’
forthcoming voyage back from the Tauric land to Hellas, and the change
in the direction of their way corresponding to a dramatic transition
from misfortune to happiness compels one to reassess the environment
in which they will be moving. The sea ceases to look forbidding and
dangerous; gods themselves will now be benevolently accompanying the
heroes across it:
καὶ σὲ µέν, πότνι᾽, Ἀργεία
πεντηκόντορος οἶκον ἄξει·
συρίζων θ᾽ ὁ κηρόδετος
Πανὸς οὐρείου κάλαµος
κώπαις ἐπιθωΰξει,
ὁ Φοῖβός θ᾽ ὁ µάντις ἔχων
κέλαδον ἑπτατόνου λύρας
ἀείδων ἄξει λιπαρὰν
εὖ σ᾽ Ἀθηναίων ἐπὶ γᾶν.
A ship with fifty oars, my reverend lady, will take you back home to Argos!
Pan’s pipe of reeds, bound by wax, will give the rhythm to the ship’s oars,
Pan the god of the mountains. And Apollo, with his loud lyre, his lyre of
135
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 136
Chapter 6
seven strings will sing along and guide the ship into the safety of glittering
Athens, Apollo, the god of prophecy. (1123–31)182
In Helen, the sea undergoes a similar transformation. In the first part of
the drama it only brings troubles and misfortunes, but then it suddenly
becomes the only means for the heroes to find happiness – to save their
lives, win their freedom and return home from Egypt.183 The reassessment
of the sea is prepared as early as the prologue, where the unfortunate
wanderer Teucer is nonetheless aware that Apollo is his guardian in
his wandering and that the god will bring him to a safe haven (148–9).
A similarly happy outcome awaits the main characters. In the third
stasimon of Helen, in the song accompanying the flight of Helen and
Menelaus, there appears an image of a calm, friendly and joyous sea. It is
across such a sea, epitomized by Galaneia, the goddess of calm seas, that
a fast Phoenician ship will carry Helen and Menelaus to their native shores
with good harbors, and accompanying them in that voyage will be a Chorus
of dancing dolphins (1451–64).184
Thus, in Helen and Iphigenia, just as in Hippolytus, images of the sea and sea
voyage are initially linked with misfortunes; however, in these dramas, unlike
Hippolytus, this meaning is changed to the opposite in the course of action.
The reversal from a negative to a positive assessment in Helen occurs
with yet another aspect of the image of the sea – the sea and wandering in
their associative link with ignorance, misapprehension and deception. This
link is also present in Hippolytus; however, just as in the case with the former
connotation of these images, examined above, it does not undergo any
reassessment.
In Helen the motifs of wandering and ignorance constantly coexist, being
in most varied relations with each other. On the one hand, a wandering
character may be a subject of ignorance; his wandering is then either a
consequence of ignorance (thus, Menelaus’ wandering ultimately results
from his ignorance of the actual fate of Helen and from his mistaken
confidence that Paris has abducted Helen) or a cause of ignorance (this
motif comes to the fore, for example, in the story of the Achaeans
returning from Troy, who were shipwrecked through Nauplios’ deception,
767 and 1126 ff.: the Achaeans wandered in the sea, having lost their way,
and then Nauplios showed them the wrong way so that their ship crashed
against the rocks). On the other hand, a wandering character may be an
object of ignorance; in this event, his wandering also either comes of
ignorance (for example, Teucer’s wandering is a result of his father’s false
notion of his guilt in the death of Ajax) or leads to ignorance (for example,
Menelaus’ wandering is the cause of the misapprehension of Helen, who
is sure of his death).
136
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 137
Images of nature
In general, the theme of ignorance and deception, expressed by the
Greek word ἀπάτη ‘deceit, delusion,’ occupies the central place in Helen,
and it is quite noteworthy that its development proceeds in the same
direction as the development of the image of the sea. In the first half of the
tragedy, ἀπάτη takes on a negative hue: the heroes’ inability to see the truth
leads to their sufferings and death. In its second half, the situation is
reversed. The main characters, with whom the audience’s sympathies lie,
cease to be passive victims of ἀπάτη and turn into its active participants,
deceiving Egyptian king Theoclymenos and achieving their freedom and
their return to their homeland through this deception; that is, we find here
a double transformation of the motif ἀπάτη, from a passive misapprehension
to an active deception and from its negative to its positive assessment.185
In this new situation, the role of the sea in its connection with ignorance
and delusion also changes. It no longer brings misfortunes coming
from misapprehensions of the ‘good’ characters; instead, it becomes an
instrument of good deception.186 This reversal in the meaning of the sea is
particularly emphasized by analogy and contrast between certain events in
the first and second half of the play. At the beginning, the sea was linked
with Menelaus’ alleged death – a misapprehension which caused Helen
great sufferings. At the end, the sea is again connected with Menelaus’
alleged death (1057, cf. 1209 and 1271); this time, however, the false news
of his death leads the heroes’ enemy, Theoclymenos, into misapprehension
and brings deliverance to Helen and Menelaus themselves. Another
example of such reassessment is presented by Menelaus’ rags – an
indication of the shipwreck that he has suffered (421–2). At the beginning
of the drama, these rags were the cause of Helen’s distress and fear, since
they prevented her from recognizing her husband (554). In the second
part, they are used for deceiving Theoclymenos, as they confirm the news
of the shipwreck and Menelaus’ alleged death (1079–80), and thus bring
deliverance from misfortunes.
In Hippolytus, where, just as in Helen, ignorance is one of the major
themes, its connection with wandering – wandering in a broader sense than
just wandering on the sea – is also evident enough. Here, just as in Helen,
wandering is connected with ignorance by logical relations of most varied
types. Hippolytus’ wandering in the conclusion of the drama is a consequence
of ignorance, since it, similarly to Teucer’s wandering in Helen, comes of his
father’s false conviction of his guilt. On the other hand, wandering may
be the cause of ignorance: Theseus’ absence at a moment when Phaedra is
painfully going through her passion leads to a misapprehension of the
whole situation and eventually to Hippolytus’ false accusation. It is precisely
by his absence that the Nurse explains Theseus’ ignorance:
137
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 138
Chapter 6
(Χο.) ὃ δ᾽ ἐς πρόσωπον οὐ τεκµαίρεται βλέπων;
(Τρ.) ἔκδηµος ὢν γὰρ τῆσδε τυγχάνει χθονός.
(Chorus) Can he not guess by looking on her face?
(Nurse) No, for as it happens he’s abroad (280–1).
It should be noted that the Nurse uses here the word ἔκδηµος ‘abroad,’
which has already appeared twice at the beginning of the drama – in
relation to Phaedra’s involuntary passion for Hippolytus, who is living
overseas (ἐρῶσ᾽ ἔρωτ᾽ ἔκδηµον, 32), and in relation to the exile of Theseus
and Phaedra (35), which once again brought the heroine face to face with
her stepson and triggered the tragic development of events. Thus, the
association between changing place and ignorance comes alongside other
examples connecting wandering with misfortunes.
In addition to a metonymic relationship, there may be metaphoric
relationships – i.e., relationships of similarity – between ignorance and
wandering. Ignorance, false guesses and misapprehensions were traditionally
described in Greek literature with the metaphor of intellectual wandering.
This metaphor appears in Hippolytus as well – for example, in the first
epeisodion, when the Nurse is looking for the right way to persuade
Phaedra to reveal to her the secret of her malady:
ἐγώ θ᾽ ὅπῃ σοι µὴ καλῶς τόθ᾽ εἱπόµην
µεθεῖσ᾽ ἐπ᾽ ἄλλον εἶµι βελτίω λόγον.
While I, where in the past I was not able to follow you in a right way, shall
let that be and take another and better track. (291–2)
This metaphor makes it possible to liken all of the Nurse’s unsuccessful
attempts to persuade Phaedra, as well as all of her own and the Chorus’
erroneous guesses about the causes of her mistress’s malady, to wandering.
The jumping from one guess to another and the Nurse’s attempts following
one another rhythmically echo the characters’ constant and painful
movements on the stage, i.e., wandering in the literal physical sense – those
of Phaedra from the house onto the orchēstra and those of Hippolytus, first,
into the house and then back out of the house.187
Thus, in Hippolytus, just as in Helen, associative relations between
wandering and ignorance are to be found. In Hippolytus, however, in contrast
to Helen, any positive aspect is totally absent from the motifs of wandering
and ignorance. In addition, here wandering is associated only with the
characters’ passive delusion: with misapprehensions and false notions
which lead to erroneous decisions. At the same time, in Helen the characters
turn out to be able to manipulate the idea of wandering, deceiving with its
help their opponent – that is, successfully playing an active role.
138
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 139
Images of nature
The special connection of wandering and ignorance with the characters’
passive role makes Hippolytus akin to another, later tragedy in which
the question of the measure of responsibility for transgressions is also
raised – Sophocles’ Oedipus at Colonus. In this tragedy, we see Oedipus in
an extreme old age, in the twilight of his life, a life spent in wandering.
According to the traditional metonymy, wandering is associated here
with sufferings and misfortunes (cf. 1231–2), but not with them alone.
As Montiglio rightly noted,188 wandering, through its associative relation to
ignorance, expresses the involuntariness of Oedipus’ actions and his
passive role in his own destiny.189 Oedipus disclaims any responsibility for
the transgressions of which he has been accused – for the killing of his
father and for the incestuous marriage to his mother – since he has
committed them unknowingly (e.g., 273–4); at the same time, his entire
life is likened to wandering in which he was led by the gods, and now he,
blind and not knowing where he is, is literally led by Antigone.190
This function of the motif of wandering, representing a person as a
victim of fate, a victim devoid of knowledge and therefore not responsible
for his or her mistakes, proves to be a key one in Hippolytus as well. This
meaning becomes all the more apparent if we turn our attention to the
relations between people and the gods, in representing which the motifs of
wandering and the sea – the most important space of wandering – also
play a major part.
As mentioned at the beginning of this chapter, Segal supposed that the
image of the sea in Hippolytus served for expressing Aphrodite’s strength
and power. Indeed, Aphrodite is named ‘Lady of the Sea’ (δέσποινα ποντία
Κύπρι, 415 and 522); according to the Nurse praising her power, she ‘dwells
in the sea-wave’ (ἔστι δ᾽ ἐν θαλασσίῳ / κλύδωνι Κύπρις, 447–8). However, it
is hardly possible to agree with Segal’s opinion that her connection with the
sea is Aphrodite’s exclusive trait distinguishing her from her opposite
goddess, Artemis; that Artemis, on the contrary, is associated with dry land
and that the contrast between the sea and dry land symbolically conveys the
contrast between ἔρως and virginity. The text of the drama in no less a
degree links Artemis with the sea as well. Phaedra addresses Artemis with
the words ‘mistress of the Salt Lagoon’ 191 (δέσποιν᾽ ἁλίας Ἄρτεµι Λίµνας, 228),
very much reminiscent of the above-mentioned form of address to
Aphrodite.192 Segal explains this ‘nautical’ naming of Artemis by the fact
that Phaedra, possessed by her passion, allegedly transfers a trait belonging
to Aphrodite, who possesses her, to Artemis; in his opinion, this slip of
the tongue is a manifestation of the sexual desire suppressed by the
heroine. I believe, however, that it would be simpler and more natural to
see in the echoing between the two forms of address the author’s intention
139
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 140
Chapter 6
to create an analogy between them. Addressing Artemis ‘sea goddess’ is
unusual for her, yet it became possible for Euripides, for he knew quite
well that the Saronic Artemis venerated in Troizen was associated with the
sea (namely, the Saronic Bay).193
Another example of Artemis’ nautical association is found in the
parodos, where the Chorus, among its other guesses about the causes of
Phaedra’s malady, names the possible wrath of Artemis:
φοιτᾷ γὰρ καὶ διὰ Λί –
µνας χέρσον θ᾽ ὑπὲρ πελάγους
δίναις ἐν νοτίαις ἅλµας.
‘For she [Artemis] wanders over the Lagoon and across the dry land of the
open sea, amid the watery eddies of the brine (148–50).
In addition to once again bringing Artemis closer to Aphrodite through
their connection with the sea, this passage shows us the way in which the
imagery of the sea and wandering describes the contrast between the actions
of the gods and the situation of humans. Just a few verses previously, in the
same stanza of the parodos, Phaedra’s malady and madness were also
expressed through the motif of wandering with an echoing between two
adjacent usages of the verb φοιτᾶν ‘to wander’:
ἦ σύ γ᾽ ἔνθεος, ὦ κούρα,
εἴτ᾽ ἐκ Πανὸς εἴθ᾽ Ἑκάτας
ἢ σεµνῶν Κορυβάντων φοι–
τᾷς ἢ µατρὸς ὀρείας;
Has some god possessed you, dear girl? Do you wander under the spell of
Pan or Hecate, the august Corybantes, or Cybele, the mountain mother?
(141–4)
However, whereas humans’ wandering symbolizes their helplessness in the
face of life that brings misfortunes, the goddesses’ wandering, on the
contrary, emphasizes their mighty omnipresence. Aphrodite’s wandering,
about which the Nurse speaks to persuade Phaedra of the impossibility of
resisting the goddess of love and of the need to give in to her:
φοιτᾷ δ᾽ ἀν᾽ αἰθέρ᾽, ἔστι δ᾽ ἐν θαλασσίῳ
κλύδωνι Κύπρις
She wanders through the air, she dwells in the sea-wave (447–8),
has the same meaning. As Montiglio rightly noted, Aphrodite’s and
Artemis’s similar wandering acts a symbol of their omnipotence and of
their ability to control the space of the dramatic action and of human action
altogether.194
140
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 141
Images of nature
The motif of the goddesses’ wandering is supplemented by a further
image which is also equally applied to Artemis and Aphrodite – the image
of a bee flying from flower to flower.195 In the prologue, a bee flying
through an inviolate meadow (ἀκήρατον / µέλισσα λειµῶν᾽ ἠρινὴ διέρχεται ‘the
meadow is inviolate, and the bee makes its way through it in the spring-
time,’ 76–7) acts as an attribute of Artemis. In the first stasimon, the image
of a flying bee symbolizes the omnipotence of Aphrodite:
δεινὰ γὰρ παντᾷ ποτιπνεῖ, µέλισσα δ’ οἵ–
α τις πεπόταται
She is terrible, her breath blows over all and she hovers flittingly like a bee.
(563–4)
Finally, at the end of the drama, in the fourth stasimon, at the moment
when Aphrodite has already shown her devastating power subjugating
and destroying everything around her, the Chorus describes the flight
of Eros:
σὺ τὰν θεῶν ἄκαµπτον φρένα καὶ βροτῶν
ἄγεις, Κύπρι, σὺν
δ᾽ ὁ ποικιλόπτερος ἀµφιβαλὼν
ὠκυτάτῳ πτερῷ.
ποτᾶται δὲ γαῖαν εὐάχητόν
θ᾽ ἁλµυρὸν ἐπὶ πόντον.
You carry along the unyielding hearts of the immortals, Aphrodite, and the
hearts of men, and with you is he of the many-colored wings, surrounding
them with his swift pinions. Eros flies over the earth and over the loud-
roaring salt sea. (1268–73)
The goddesses’ aerial movements continue their wandering on the sea,
conveying the same meaning of perfect might.
Taking part in the events of the drama is yet another deity most directly
connected with the sea. This is Poseidon, whose interference – interference
precisely by means of the sea element – completes the implementation of
Aphrodite’s ruinous designs. Naturally, he is also given the epithet ‘lord
of the sea’ lexically uniting him with the goddesses. In the exodos,
explaining to Theseus the true meaning of the events that have occurred
in the drama, including Poseidon’s part in them, Artemis says:
πατὴρ µὲν οὖν σοι πόντιος φρονῶν καλῶς
ἔδωχ᾽ ὅσονπερ χρῆν, ἐπείπερ ᾔνεσεν·
Your father, the sea-lord, kindly disposed as he was towards you, granted
what he had to grant seeing that he had made this promise. (1318–19)
141
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 142
Chapter 6
The naming of all the three deities as those of the sea and the contra-
distinction of their omnipresence to the passive and miserable wandering
of humans make it possible for us to determine the function played by the
image of the sea in forming the relations between the gods and humans.
The gods are an active force ruling the sea, whereas people are passive
victims of that element.
The image of the sea enables Euripides to express not only the activity
and passivity relations existing between the gods and humans but also the
contrast between their lots that are so different – between the eternal
happiness of the former and the inevitable misfortunes of the latter.
To this end, the author uses a motif which is, in general, not infrequently
found in his tragedies and which is always linked to the image of the sea –
the motif of spatial boundaries. The realm of existence of humans spending
their lives wandering on the seas, both actual seas and the metaphoric sea
of troubles, is limited by the seas; its boundaries are the Euxine Sea in the
east and ‘the bounds of Atlas’, i.e., the Strait of Gibraltar, in the west. These
geographic coordinates of the human vale of existence supplement and
maximally expand the association of the sea with misfortunes: what this
image describes is not the fate of a single human related to a single sailing
but the fate of all humans – that of dwelling within the limits of the sea,
that is, passing their days in miseries and sorrows.
This motif appears in the very first verses of the tragedy, where the
human race is defined through the geographic boundaries of its existence:
ὅσοι τε Πόντου τερµόνων τ᾽ Ἀτλαντικῶν
ναίουσιν εἴσω φῶς ὁρῶντες ἡλίου,
All those who dwell between the Euxine Sea and the bounds of Atlas and
look on the light of the sun. (3–4)
The world of humans is opposed here to the domain of the gods dwelling
in heaven (οὐρανοῦ τ᾽ ἔσω, 2).
In the third epeisodion, when Theseus curses and banishes Hippolytus,
he speaks about his desire to send his son as far as possible – even, if this
were possible, beyond the human world, and here again the same
designation of its boundaries is repeated:
πέραν γε Πόντου καὶ τόπων Ἀτλαντικῶν,
εἴ πως δυναίµην, ὡς σὸν ἐχθαίρω κάρα.
[I would banish you] beyond the Euxine Sea and the places of Atlas, if I
could, such is my hatred of you. (1053–4)
At the moment when these words are pronounced, they sound as a
fantastic hyperbole, yet they foreshadow and predict the path to which
142
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 143
Images of nature
Theseus actually dooms his son – a path beyond the boundaries of life into
the realm of the dead.
The motif of the boundaries of human existence plays a major part in
the second stasimon. Its first half has the form of an ‘ode of escape’ typical
of tragedy – a lyrical fragment in which the Chorus expressed its desire to
escape, usually in impracticable ways, from a trouble that had happened in
the tragedy. Here, in the second stasimon of Hippolytus, the Chorus dreams
of turning into birds and flying from the world of bitter troubles in which
human life takes place into the heavenly realm of the gods. The realm of
the gods is located in the extreme west, beyond the human world. The
boundaries of the human world separating it from the divine paradise are
the very same Pillars of Atlas mentioned in the first verses of the tragedy,
and the main meaning of these boundaries is to set the limits of seafaring.
It is only here, in this world that sailors sail; there is no passage for them
beyond it, into the world of eternal bliss:
Ἑσπερίδων δ᾽ ἐπὶ µηλόσπορον ἀκτὰν
ἀνύσαιµι τᾶν ἀοιδῶν,
ἵν᾽ ὁ πορφυρέας πον–
τοµέδων λίµνας
ναύταις οὐκέθ᾽ ὁδὸν νέµει,
σεµνὸν τέρµονα κυρῶν
οὐρανοῦ, τὸν Ἄτλας ἔχει,
κρῆναί τ᾽ ἀµβρόσιαι χέον–
ται Ζηνὸς παρὰ κοίταις,
ἵν᾽ ὁ ὀλβιόδωρος αὔξει ζαθέα
χθὼν εὐδαιµονίαν θεοῖς.
And that I might reach my journey’s end at the apple-sown shore of the
Hesperides, the singers, where the sea-lord of the dark mere forbids further
passage to sailors, stablishing the holy bourne of the sky that Atlas holds.
There fonts immortal flow by the place where Zeus lay, and holy Earth with
her gifts of blessedness makes the gods’ prosperity wax great. (742–51)
This passage is based on an apparent contrast between sailing on the seas
in the human world and bliss in the world of the gods – a contrast
presupposing the usual association of sailing with misfortunes. This
association is also present in the preceding antistrophe offering a picture
of the human world from which the Chorus wishes to escape – the world
on this side of the boundary, the world of tears and suffering. The human
world is shown here through the images of Phaethon, a mythological
personage whose fate is to some extent similar to the fate of Hippolytus,196
and his sisters eternally lamenting him; the place of their suffering is near
the sea waves and the seashore:
143
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 144
Chapter 6
ἀρθείην δ᾽ ἐπὶ πόντιον
κῦµα τᾶς Ἀδριηνᾶς
ἀκτᾶς Ἠριδανοῦ θ᾽ ὕδωρ,
ἔνθα πορφύρεον σταλάς–
σουσ᾽ ἐς οἶδµα τάλαιναι
κόραι Φαέθοντος οἴκτῳ δακρύων
τὰς ἠλεκτροφαεῖς αὐγάς·
Would that I might soar aloft over the surf of the Adriatic shore and the
waters of the Eridanus where into the deep-blue swell the luckless girls, in
grief for Phaethon, drop the amber radiance of their tears. (735–41)
Thus, the happiness of the gods is opposed to the misfortunes of mortals
symbolically expressed through the motif of sailing on the sea, and the
geographical limit of seafaring rigidly delimits these two opposite worlds.197
It is interesting to note that the motif of geographical boundary appears
in other ‘nautical’ tragedies of Euripides as well, but in them it is given
other meanings depending on the general conception of each of the
dramas. In Medea, it is the Symplegades (Clashing Rocks), i.e., the Bosporus
that serve as such a boundary.198 Like the bounds of Atlas and the Euxine
Sea in Hippolytus, the Symplegades are mentioned already in the first verses
of the drama. The ship Argo should not have passed them and should not
have brought Jason to the land of Colchis:
Εἴθ᾽ ὤφελ᾽ Ἀργοῦς µὴ διαπτάσθαι σκάφος
Κόλχων ἐς αἶαν κυανέας Συµπληγάδας,
Would that the Argo had never winged its way to the land of Colchis
through the dark-blue Symplegades! (1–2).
Then the Symplegades are referred to many times and in various ways.
According to the Chorus, having eloped from her home with Jason, Medea
sailed to the ‘gateway of the Black Sea’ so as, having passed through it, to
get to Hellas:
Ἑλλάδ᾽ ἐς ἀντίπορον
δι᾽ ἅλα νύχιον ἐφ᾽ ἁλµυρὰν
πόντου κλῇδ᾽ ἀπέραντον.199
To Hellas across the sea through the dark salt-water over the briny gateway
of the Black Sea, a gateway few traverse. (210–2)
The crossing of the boundary by Medea is linked to her elopement from
home in still another passage – again in the Chorus’ song:
σὺ δ᾽ ἐκ µὲν οἴκων πατρίων ἔπλευσας
µαινοµένᾳ κραδίᾳ, διδύµους ὁρίσασα πόντου
πέτρας·
144
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 145
Images of nature
But you sailed from your father’s halls with love-maddened heart, passing
between the twin rocks of the Euxine. (431–5)
Finally, the Chorus recalls Medea’s sailing through the Symplegades at the
moment when Medea kills her children, so that this sailing appears to be
the backstory of her crime:
µάταν µόχθος ἔρρει τέκνων,
µάταν ἄρα γένος φίλιον ἔτεκες, ὦ
κυανεᾶν λιποῦσα Συµπληγάδων
πετρᾶν ἀξενωτάταν ἐσβολάν.
The toil of bearing your children has come to naught, it was to no purpose
that you bore your dear offspring, you who left behind the inhospitable
strait where the dark-blue Symplegades clash. (1261–4)
The initial mythological role of the Symplegades, just as that of the bounds
of Atlas, was the delimitation of ordinary day-to-day reality and the
fantastic, fabulous world. In Medea and Hippolytus, however, the semantics
of the typical mythological boundaries is conceptualized differently, since
the delimitations that are significant in them are absolutely different.
In Hippolytus, the main boundary separates the human world and the divine
world, the world of sufferings and the world of bliss; this boundary is
impenetrable, which emphasizes the hopelessness of human life. In Medea,
it is a different boundary, the boundary between the Hellenic world and the
barbaric world or between home and foreign land (notably, opposite
worlds were the home for Jason and Medea), that plays the major part.
This boundary may, but must not, be crossed. Its violation – first, by Jason
and then, in the opposite direction, by Medea for whom this crossing
results in the loss of her home – is shown to be a major impetus if not the
main cause of the tragic events occurring in the drama.
The same Symplegades are a recurrent image in Iphigenia in Tauris, where,
just as in Medea, they mark the boundary between the Hellenic and the
barbaric world. Their very first mention links these rocks through the use
of a synecdoche to an inhospitable and wild barbaric land. The Chorus
addresses the inhabitants of the Tauric land as if they are living on the
Symplegades themselves:
εὐφαµεῖτ᾽, ὦ
πόντου δισσὰς συγχωρούσας
πέτρας ἀξείνου ναίοντες.
Keep holy silence, all who dwell by the clashing rocks of the Hostile Sea!
(123–5)200
Orestes and Pylades cross the same boundary:
145
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 146
Chapter 6
ἥκουσιν ἐς γῆν, κυανέας Συµπληγάδας
πλάτῃ φυγόντες, δίπτυχοι νεανίαι,
Two young men, escaping the dark Symplegades in their ship, have arrived
in the country (241–2),
which makes the Chorus wonder:
πῶς τὰς συνδροµάδας πέτρας,
πῶς Φινεϊδᾶν †ἀΰ-
πνους† ἀκτὰς ἐπέρα –
σαν παρ᾽ ἅλιον αἰγιαλὸν ἐπ᾽ Ἀµφιτρί–
τας ῥοθίῳ δραµόντες,
How did they pass the clashing rocks, how the...shores of Phineus, running
near the beach amid the surge of Amphitrite? (421–6),
and even, just as the Nurse in the first verses of Medea, think about an error
and violation: the Chorus at first mistakes them for merchants who strive
to win a weight of riches (γνώµα δ’ οἷς µὲν ἄκαιρος ὄλβου ‘To some the
thought of wealth proves untimely,’ 420). It then transpires, however, that
this way was prescribed to them from on high and that it is a preliminary
to the way back, the way from barbarism to civilized Hellenism. The
change in direction is denoted by a phrase addressed to the sailors at the
beginning of their return sailing:
Ὦ γῆς Ἑλλάδος ναύτης λεώς,
λάβεσθε κώπης ῥόθιά τ᾽ ἐκλευκαίνετε·
ἔχοµεν γὰρ ὧνπερ οὕνεκ᾽ ἄξενον πόρον
Συµπληγάδων ἔσωθεν εἰσεπλεύσαµεν.
Sailing men of Greece, grab your oars and make the waves grow white! We
have what we came for when we sailed through the Symplegades to the
Hostile Sea! (1386–9)
The overcoming of barbarism, and progress through barbarism and
savagery to civilization, is the main structure-forming principle in Iphigenia,
and it is precisely this which determines the meaning of the motif of
boundary in this tragedy.
We can see that the image of the sea and a number of motifs related to
it form a motif set found in several tragedies of Euripides. This motif
set presupposes the existence in its constituent motifs of a more or less
constant bundle of associations or connotations; each particular tragedy,
however, actualizes these potential meanings in its own way. In Hippolytus,
the image of the sea thanks to its associations with human misfortunes,
sufferings and ignorance, on the one hand, and with the active power
and will of the gods, on the other, makes it possible to express the activity
146
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 147
Images of nature
and passivity relations existing between the gods and humans, and the
image of the boundary emphasizes the contrast of their lots.
In Hippolytus, these meanings are static meanings. They determine the
constant parameters of the reality in which the characters of Hippolytus
exist; they do not change in the course of the action. Here, in contrast, for
example, to Helen or Iphigenia in Tauris, no reassessment of the image of the
sea occurs. Contrapuntal to this image is the other recurrent image, which,
on the contrary, is related to dramatic movement and dramatic upheaval –
the image of pristine wild nature.
In the prologue, appearing on the stage for the first time, Hippolytus
together with servants accompanying him praises Artemis and dedicates a
garland to her. Flowers for the garland were collected from an inviolate
meadow which is given an expanded vivid characterization in Hippolytus’
utterance:
σοὶ τόνδε πλεκτὸν στέφανον ἐξ ἀκηράτου
λειµῶνος, ὦ δέσποινα, κοσµήσας φέρω,
ἔνθ᾽ οὔτε ποιµὴν ἀξιοῖ φέρβειν βοτὰ
οὔτ᾽ ἦλθέ πω σίδηρος, ἀλλ᾽ ἀκήρατον
µέλισσα λειµῶν᾽ ἠρινὴ διέρχεται,
Αἰδὼς δὲ ποταµίαισι κηπεύει δρόσοις,
ὅσοις διδακτὸν µηδέν, ἀλλ᾽ ἐν τῇ φύσει
τὸ σωφρονεῖν εἴληχεν εἰς τὰ πάντ᾽ ἀεί,
τούτοις δρέπεσθαι, τοῖς κακοῖσι δ᾽ οὐ θέµις.
For you, lady, I bring this plaited garland I have made, gathered from an
inviolate meadow, a place where the shepherd does not dare to pasture
his flocks, where the iron scythe has never come: no, it is inviolate, and the
bee makes its way through it in the spring-time. Αἰδώς tends this garden
with streams of river-water, for those who have acquired nothing by
teaching but rather in whose very nature virtue in all things always has been
assigned her place – for them to pluck; but the base have no right hereto.
(73–81)
The description of the meadow metaphorically refers, in the first place, to
the qualities inherent in Hippolytus himself and the goddess Artemis
whom he venerates. Hippolytus and the meadow are similar in terms of
their main quality, ‘inviolateness’ (the word ἀκήρατος ‘inviolate’ is equally
applicable both to the virginity of nature and the virginity of man). Thus,
on the one hand, the meadow symbolizes the hero’s chastity. Some
scholars, however, call attention to another, additional meaning found in
this description. In the opinion of Bremer,201 the picture of the meadow has
features of the locus amoenus, traditional for Greek poetry, which usually
combines associations of virginity and sexuality. As the closest parallels,
147
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 148
Chapter 6
Bremer cites the description of the sacred grove of Aphrodite in Sappho
(fr. 2 Lobel-Page) and a poem by Ibycus (fr. 286 PMG) which, in his view,
shows particular similarity with Euripides’ text. Ibycus draws a picture of
the inviolate garden of the Maidens and then abruptly moves to showing
a painful passion that has seized the lyrical hero:
ἦρι µὲν αἵ τε Κυδώνιαι
µηλίδες ἀρδόµεναι ῥοᾶν
ἐκ ποταµῶν, ἵνα Παρθένων
κῆπος ἀκήρατος, αἵ τ᾽ οἰνανθίδες
αὐξόµεναι σκιεροῖσιν ὑφ᾽ ἕρνεσιν
οἰναρέοις θαλέθοισιν· ἐµοὶ δ᾽ ἔρος
οὐδεµίαν κατάκοιτος ὥραν.
†τε† ὑπὸ στεροπᾶς φλέγων
Θρηίκιος Βορέας
ἀίσσων παρὰ Κύπριδος ἀζαλέ –
αις µανίαισιν ἐρεµνὸς ἀθαµβὴς
ἐγκρατέως πεδόθεν †φυλάσσει†
ἡµετέρας φρένας
In spring the Kydonian apple trees, watered by flowing streams there where
the Maidens have their unravished garden, and vine buds, growing under the
shadowy branches of the vines, bloom and flourish. For me, however, love
is at rest in no season. But like the Thracian north wind, ablaze with
lightning, rushing from Aphrodite with scorching fits of madness, dark
and unrestrained, it forcibly convulses (?) from their very roots my mind
and heart.
The composition of this fragment is determined by a sudden and sharp
contrast between the peaceful tranquility of the garden of the maidens and
the raging passion of the poet.202 Bremer, however, noted that there also
existed causality relations between the former and the latter parts of this
evident contrast: the ‘inviolateness’ of the garden does not rule out love
but, on the contrary, determines it.203 Fruits in it ripen to be plucked and
savored;204 similarly, the beauty of the maidens blossoms and ripens to
present itself to ἔρως. According to Bremer, in Ibycus, just as in descriptions
of this kind in general, there is a tradition to depict a ‘place where virginity
finds its end and fulfillment in sexuality.’205
In Bremer’s opinion, the same associations should be present in a
description of Hippolytus’ meadow. At the same time, Bremer finds a
rather remarkable singularity in the passage from Hippolytus: the meadow,
which should convey a suggestion of ἔρως and Aphrodite, is nonetheless
linked by Hippolytus only to Artemis and virginity. This contradiction,
which, as Bremer believes, was to appear unexpected and paradoxical to
the Athenian audience, serves the purpose of psychological characterization
148
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 149
Images of nature
of Hippolytus. According to Bremer, the hero does not wish to see the
obvious reality of sexual love inevitable for man; thus, this passage
conforms to the general characterization of Hippolytus ‘as reaching beyond
the normal reach of man, and exposing himself to the invidious blows of
a god.’ 206
Bremer’s point of view is shared by Cairns. Just as Bremer, he compares
the passage from Hippolytus with Ibycus’ fragment and concludes that in
both of them is implicitly present the thought of inevitability of the advent
of ἔρως – a thought the obviousness of which Hippolytus does not
want to see: ‘The lyric associations of the present passage suggest the
coming of Love to those who had previously been inviolate, and this
accordingly creates a discord in relation to Hippolytus’ determination to
remain chaste.’ 207
One cannot but agree that sexual associations are often present in a locus
amoenus, and it would only be natural to assume that this semantic feature
of the topos is also used in some way by Euripides in Hippolytus, particularly
considering the important role played in the drama by ἔρως. The validity of
this assumption is also corroborated by the fact that in describing the
meadow Euripides uses words which are typical of a locus amoenus and
which, at the same time, have apparent sexual connotations – ἀκήρατος
‘inviolate’ and δρέπεσθαι ‘to pluck.’ However, the interpretation proposed
by Bremer and Cairns can hardly be regarded as correct.
In his book dealing with the representation of ἔρως in Greek poetry
Calame noted that an erotic locus amoenus may have two different varieties.
One of them is an inviolate meadow with flowers, which is associated with
virginity (παρθένος), and the other is a garden with fruits, which is related
to the stage of transition from virginity to marriage (νύµφη).208 Even though
some facts prevent us from drawing too strict a terminological boundary
between these two varieties – for example, in Ibycus maidens (παρθένοι)
are in a garden (κῆπος) with fruits, and in Euripides a meadow (λειµών)
tended by a gardener (κηπεύει) is mentioned – yet nonetheless there
apparently exists a semantic and functional distinction between the two
landscapes in one of which fruits mature and in the other flowers blossom.
Fruits ripen to be savored; therefore, this variety of the landscape may
indeed symbolize the naturalness and necessity of ἔρως coming to succeed
virginity. As for flowers, their being plucked is an event that is unnatural
and ruinous for them; accordingly, this image is usually found in
combination with such manifestations of ἔρως which cause pain – with
scenes of sexual violence. In poetry we not infrequently come across an
image of a meadow in which a character gathers flowers and then becomes
a victim of violence.209 The main idea and sentiment in such pictures is not
149
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 150
Chapter 6
the inevitability of the advent of ἔρως but the contrast between peaceful
tranquility and virginity and the invading violence. The motif of a flower
bears a symbolic meaning, expressing the purity and, at the same time,
weakness and helplessness of virginity, whereas the plucking of a flower
is closely related to subsequent abduction, symbolically forestalling
deprivation of virginity. According to Segal, who explored this topos in
Ovid’s Metamorphoses, ‘the delicacy of the flower combines with the delicacy
of the landscape to present innocence and beauty as the defenseless prey
of lustful powers’.210
One early example of this topos is the story of the abduction of
Persephone by Hades at the beginning of the Homeric Hymn to Demeter.
At the moment of abduction, Persephone was dancing in a circling Chorus
with the Okeanides and picking flowers in a ‘soft meadow’:
θύγατρα τανύσφυρον ἣν Ἀϊδωνεὺς
ἥρπαξεν, δῶκεν δὲ βαρύκτυπος εὐρυόπα Ζεύς,
νόσφιν ∆ήµητρος χρυσαόρου ἀγλαοκάρπου
παίζουσαν κούρῃσι σὺν Ὠκεανοῦ βαθυκόλποις,
ἄνθεά τ᾽ αἰνυµένην ῥόδα καὶ κρόκον ἠδ᾽ ἴα καλὰ
λειµῶν᾽ ἂµ µαλακὸν καὶ ἀγαλλίδας ἠδ᾽ ὑάκινθον
νάρκισσόν θ᾽,
...her daughter, the one with the delicate ankles, whom Hades seized. She
was given away by Zeus, the loud-thunderer, the one who sees far and wide.
That happened when, without Demeter of the golden double-axe, who
glories in the harvest, she [Persephone] was playing, along with the
daughters of Okeanos, who wear their girdles slung low. She was picking
flowers: roses, crocus, and beautiful violets up and down the soft meadow.
Iris blossoms too she picked, and hyacinth, and the narcissus (2–8).211
Next we come across several such scenes all at once in Euripides. In Ion,
Creusa, accusing Apollo of raping her, tells her story thus:
ἦλθές µοι χρυσῷ χαίταν
µαρµαίρων, εὖτ᾽ ἐς κόλπους
κρόκεα πέταλα φάρεσιν ἔδρεπον,
†ἀνθίζειν† χρυσανταυγῆ·
λευκοῖς δ᾽ ἐµφὺς καρποῖσιν
χειρῶν εἰς ἄντρου κοίτας
κραυγὰν Ὦ µᾶτέρ µ᾽ αὐδῶσαν
θεὸς ὁµευνέτας
ἆγες ἀναιδείᾳ
Κύπριδι χάριν πράσσων.
You came to me, your hair glittering with gold, when I was plucking into the
folds of my robe yellow flowers glittering with golden light in return;
150
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 151
Images of nature
grasping my white hand in yours, you led me to the bed in the cave, hearing
me call on my mother, god and consort, shamelessly paying homage to
Aphrodite. (887–96)
Further, the abduction in the meadow is a major recurrent motif of Helen –
a tragedy, as we have already seen, manifesting a strong closeness to
Hippolytus in other respects as well. Firstly, Hermes abducted Helen when
she was plucking flowers to dedicate them to Athena:
ὅς µε χλοερὰ δρεποµέναν ἔσω πέπλων
ῥόδεα πέταλα Χαλκίοικον
ὡς Ἀθάναν µόλοιµ᾽,
ἀναρπάσας
When I was gathering fresh rose leaves in the folds of my robe, so that I
might go to Athena, the goddess of the Bronze House, he carried me off
(244–6);
later on we learn that Helen, just like Persephone, was snatched away from
a circling Chorus of maidens (1465–8).
This abduction is not in itself sexual, yet it is modeled after the abduction
of Persephone by Hades and described as sexual violence (cf. ἀναρπάσας
and the verb ἥρπαξεν in the Hymn to Demeter), being a substitute for the
abduction of Helen by Paris. The story of Persephone – a model for the
abduction of Helen – is also given a special narrative in Helen (1312–13).212
These scenes are very similar to Hippolytus’ situation. Just like
Persephone and Helen, Hippolytus is plucking flowers in a meadow and
singing in the circle of his companions and then, like Persephone, Creusa
and, to a certain degree, Helen, he becomes a victim to violence coming
from ἔρως. The prologue of Hippolytus is notable for the fact that here the
traditional model acquires not only an ordinary poetic but also scenic
embodiment. The audience see with their own eyes the hero coming on
stage in the circle of his companions and singing together with them,
holding in his hands the flowers he has picked.
In my view, this parallel clearly shows in what way the meaning of the
image of a meadow in the prologue of Hippolytus should be understood.
All the instances of abduction in a meadow examined above do not at all
presuppose the meaning which Bremer and Cairns wish to see in
Hippolytus’ meadow. We can hardly regard the image of a meadow as a
psychological characteristic of Hippolytus emphasizing his misapprehension
and underestimation of the role of love in human life. Even though the
sexual connotation of an inviolate meadow was customary and obvious to
the audience, it would be strange to expect the same of a character falling
victim to a woman’s passion. We cannot reproach Persephone, Creusa or
151
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 152
Chapter 6
Helen for an incorrect evaluation of the reality of sexual love; their only role
in such scenes is the role of victims. In the light of these analogies,
Hippolytus appears as a similar victim whose virginal carelessness is
intruded upon by a destructive ἔρως. Here the traditional image of an
inviolate meadow is to express its usual meanings – to emphasize the hero’s
innocence and peaceful placidity and dramatically prepare future intrusion
of cruelty and violence into his world.
Further on in the play, the image of pristine or wild nature appears a
few more times. The development of this image falls into line with a
transition, traditional for this topos, from placidity and innocence to
violence. In Hippolytus, this movement, which in other examples occurs
within short passages of a few verses, is made throughout the entire drama,
acting as one of its compositional pivots.
In the first epeisodion, Hippolytus’ world, including his inviolate meadow
and also the forests and mountains where he hunts, turns out to be the
place where Phaedra’s insane longings are directed. The heroine dreams
of escaping into that world, of drawing a drink of pure water from a dewy
spring, of taking her rest lying under poplar trees in a meadow, of pursuing
deer as a huntress, and of taming Enetic horses on a coursing-ground.
In the new picture of Hippolytus’ world there appears a note that has
not sounded before. This world is now filled with ἔρως – that is, the
potential erotic association of the locus amoenus begins to become actualized.
Phaedra, obsessed by her passion, now dreams of getting into a world of
pristine nature, and all her wishes are determined by an amorous desire.
The author particularly emphasizes the erotic basis of all the heroine’s
longings by denoting them with words from the sexual sphere. Such is the
verb ἔραµαι ‘to desire,’ cognate to the word ἔρως, by which Phaedra
expresses her desire to hunt:
ἔραµαι κυσὶ θωΰξαι
καὶ παρὰ χαίταν ξανθὰν ῥῖψαι
Θεσσαλὸν ὅρπακ᾽, ἐπίλογχον ἔχου–
σ᾽ ἐν χειρὶ βέλος.
How I desire to shout to the hounds and to let fly past my golden hair a
javelin of Thessaly, to hold in my hand the sharp-pointed weapon! (219–22)
and which is then twice repeated by the Nurse astounded by the behavior
of her mistress (τί δὲ κρηναίων νασµῶν ἔρασαι; ‘Why do you long for water
from a flowing spring?’ 225, and νῦν δ᾽ αὖ ψαµάθοις / ἐπ᾽ ἀκυµάντοις πώλων
ἔρασαι ‘Another time on the sands untouched by the waves you yearn for
horses,’ 234–5). Such is also the word πόθος with which the Nurse refers
to Phaedra’s sudden passion for hunting:
152
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 153
Images of nature
νῦν δὴ µὲν ὄρος βᾶσ᾽ ἐπὶ θήρας
πόθον ἐστέλλου,
One time you are off going to the mountains to the hunt you long for.
(233–4)
The erotic principle manifesting itself in Phaedra’s longings is conveyed
not only lexically but also through a particular construction of images. As
Bremer rightly observed,213 some of the pleasures of which the heroine
dreams – taking a drink of cool water and taking a rest in the shadow on
soft grass – are akin to sexual pleasure, since they are represented as the
quenching of desires freeing one from a painful and oppressive state.
πῶς ἂν δροσερᾶς ἀπὸ κρηνῖδος
καθαρῶν ὑδάτων πῶµ᾽ ἀρυσαίµαν,
ὑπό τ᾽ αἰγείροις ἔν τε κοµήτῃ
λειµῶνι κλιθεῖσ᾽ ἀναπαυσαίµαν;
How I long to draw a drink of pure water from a dewy spring and to
take my rest lying under the poplar trees and in the long-haired meadow!
(208–11)
On the other hand, the heroine’s other desires and her sudden passion for
hunting and horses are images that traditionally served as sexual metaphors.
We find the image of a hunt, e.g., in Sappho 1.21, Ibycus 287.4, Theognis
1283–94 and 1299–1304, in Plato’s Phaedrus 252e and 253c; sometimes, as,
for example, in Theognis 949–50 or in Plato’s Phaedrus 241d, a person in
love is represented as a wild animal falling upon its prey. Particularly
interesting is the image of a horse being bridled, since, as we shall see
further on, it is repeated in Hippolytus more than once.214 A similar image
is not infrequently found in early lyrics, in particular, in Anacreon. In
Anacreon’s fragment 357 PMG, the epithet δαµάλης ‘subduer,’ referring
one to the motif of taming wild horses, is applied to Eros; a cognate verb
is used by Phaedra in the passage being examined:
∆έσποιν᾽ ἁλίας Ἄρτεµι Λίµνας
καὶ γυµνασίων τῶν ἱπποκρότων,
εἴθε γενοίµαν ἐν σοῖς δαπέδοις,
πώλους Ἐνέτας δαµαλιζοµένα.
Mistress of the Salt Lagoon, Artemis, mistress of the coursing-ground for
horses, oh that I might find myself on your ground taming Enetic horses!
(228–31)
In another poem (fr. 417 PMG), Anacreon compares a young girl to a filly
prancing in a meadow; the poet likens his amorous desire to a striving to
harness the filly by putting the bridle and the bit on her.
153
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 154
Chapter 6
In Phaedra’s lines, all these images have a symbolic meaning in addition
to their literal and psychological meaning. Continuing the motif of
Hippolytus’ meadow with its circle of associations, they point at Phaedra
as the fateful force which is to intrude into Hippolytus’ virginal world and
violate its serenity. It is noteworthy that this imagery reverses the usual
allocation of gender roles. Applied to Hippolytus are images which in all
other instances describe the position of girls, whereas Phaedra’s longings
show traits indicative of an active male force. In the opinion of scholars
who see the meaning of the play in the inevitability of punishment for a
wrong attitude to reality, the likening of Hippolytus to a girl makes it
possible to emphasize the irregularity and distortion of his emotions.215
It should be noted, however, that Hippolytus appears to be not simply like
a girl; he is like a girl subjected to violence, which rather emphasizes his
position as a helpless victim. As for Phaedra, her quasi-male active intrusion
into a virginal world might represent her as the culprit of the tragedy.
This possibility, however, is ruled out because the author shows her
words and feelings to be an uncontrolled madness of which Phaedra
herself immediately repents. The assessment of the heroine as a victim and
not culprit is also expressed by the curiously developing image of a horse
in harness. When this image appeared in Phaedra’s mad speeches, it
referred to the object of her passion, Hippolytus, showing an active role of
Phaedra. On the other hand, the image of a horse steered by an evil force
is applied to Phaedra herself: she is a being who is steered and her role is
a passive one. Maybe we find it in words of the Nurse speaking about some
god (namely, Aphrodite) who may cause Phaedra’s madness:
τάδε µαντείας ἄξια πολλῆς,
ὅστις σε θεῶν ἀνασειράζει
καὶ παρακόπτει φρένας, ὦ παῖ.
All this calls for a skilful diviner to say which of the gods is drawing you
aside, my child, and striking your wits awry. (236–8)216
Incidentally, echoes of this image run as a common theme throughout the
drama. Already at the beginning of the prologue, Aphrodite speaks about
a ‘goad of love’ tormenting the heroine:
ἐνταῦθα δὴ στένουσα κἀκπεπληγµένη
κέντροις ἔρωτος ἡ τάλαιν᾽ ἀπόλλυται.
From this point on the poor woman, groaning and struck senseless by the
goad of love, means to die (38–9),
and the same metaphor is repeated in the exodos by Artemis, noting that
this goad belongs to Aphrodite:
154
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 155
Images of nature
τῆς γὰρ ἐχθίστης θεῶν
ἡµῖν, ὅσαισι παρθένειος ἡδονή,
δηχθεῖσα κέντροις παιδὸς ἠράσθη σέθεν·
For she was stung by the goad of that goddess most hated by us who take
pleasure in virginity, and fell in love with your son. (1301–3)
When the author links one and the same image of a horse now to the object
of Phaedra’s erotic longings and now to Phaedra herself, he makes use of
its traditional semantic duality. The metaphor of a horse being tamed could
describe both the loved one, whom the one in love is conquering and
subjugating, and the one in love, who on account of his or her passion is
at the mercy of the loved one. It is in the latter sense, the one in love in the
role of a horse and the loved one in the role of a rider, that it appears in still
another Anacreon fragment (fr. 360 PMG), where the beloved is steering
the soul of his lover (τῆς ἐµῆς ψυχῆς ἡνιοχεύεις).
In this meaning, this image is also applied to Phaedra in love. At the
same time, it is quite meaningful that in the case of Phaedra it is not
Hippolytus who is the rider. In precisely the same way that Euripides freed
another erotic image which traditionally expressed human causality – an
image associating amorous passion with vision and the eyes – from any
indication of human causality and guilt and transferred all responsibility to
Eros ‘dripping desire into the eyes’ of mortals,217 he deals with the metaphor
of a horse. It is Aphrodite who turns out to be the rider steering Phaedra.
Next, the image of wild nature appears in the first stasimon. After the
Chorus has learnt the secret of Phaedra’s malady in the first epeisodion, it
sings a hymn to Eros, praising the power of Eros and Aphrodite – a power
that is destructive and ruinous. The first one in the number of examples
demonstrating this power is the story of Iole, whom Heracles took away
by force, having sacked her city in order to possess her:
τὰν µὲν Οἰχαλίᾳ
πῶλον ἄζυγα λέκτρων,
ἄνανδρον τὸ πρὶν καὶ ἄνυµφον, οἴκων
ζεύξασ᾽ ἀπ᾽ Εὐρυτίων
δροµάδα ναΐδ᾽ ὅπως τε βάκ–
χαν σὺν αἵµατι, σὺν καπνῷ,
φονίοισι νυµφείοις
Ἀλκµήνας τόκῳ Κύπρις ἐξέδωκεν·
The Oechalian filly unyoked abed, manless before and unwed, she yoked
from Eurytos’ house and like a running Naiad or a bacchant, amid blood,
amid smoke, in a bloody bridal gave her to Alcmene’s child – she, the
Cyprian. (545–53)
155
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 156
Chapter 6
This passage contains a motif referring to the locus amoenus – a landscape of
wild nature with its associations of virginity and sexual violence. This is
the motif of a running Naiad or Bacchant, which is always found in the
setting of such a landscape. It is quite often found in Euripides as well.
For example, in Cyclops this motif appears in a picture portraying blissful
Bacchic freedom reigning supreme on Mount Nysa, a mythological
mountain where Dionysos was reared as a child. Bewailing the loss of this
happy world is a Chorus of satyrs compelled to drag out a miserable
existence as slaves of the Cyclops Polyphemus:
οὐδ᾽ ἐν Νύσᾳ µετὰ Νυµ–
φᾶν ἴακχον ἴακχον ᾠ–
δὰν µέλπω πρὸς τὰν Ἀφροδί–
ταν, ἃν θηρεύων πετόµαν
Βάκχαις σὺν λευκόποσιν.
Nor on Mount Nysa can I join the Nymphs in singing the song ‘Iacchos
Iacchos’ to Aphrodite, whom I swiftly pursued in company with white-
footed Bacchants. (68–72)
Still closer to Hippolytus is a passage from the parodos of Helen, where the
cry of Helen bitterly upset over the loss of her relatives is compared to the
cry of a Naiad run down in the hills by Pan pursuing her (Helen, 184–90).
Even lexically, this place is reminiscent of the passage about Iole; cf. νύµφα
τις οἷα ναῒς ‘just as a Naiad nymph’ (Helen, 187).
In the story of Iole, there also appears the image of a horse being yoked,
to which Iole, being subjected to violence, is likened.
The question arises: What role does the myth of Iole play in Hippolytus?
For the fate of which character does it serve as a mythological analogy?
Considering that the choral song of the first stasimon is a response to the
news of Phaedra’s passion for Hippolytus and that it is Phaedra who at
that moment appears as a victim of Aphrodite, this song as a whole and,
therefore, the image of Iole should be applicable to Phaedra’s situation.
If, however, the author actually compares the situation in which Phaedra
finds herself to the story of Iole, then the image of sexual violence should
be understood symbolically rather than literally. Continuing the comparison
of Phaedra to a harnessed horse, he notes her position as a passive victim
of a misfortune caused by Aphrodite and ἔρως. Just as Aphrodite was the
rider who harnessed Phaedra the horse, violence also comes from
Aphrodite in this mythological example symbolizing Phaedra’s misfortune.
The syntactic structure of the phrase (ζεύξασα Ἀλκµήνας τόκῳ Κύπρις ἐξέδωκεν
‘Aphrodite yoked her and gave her to Alcmene’s child’) shows Aphrodite,
and not even Heracles, as the subject of that violence.218 Here again the
156
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 157
Images of nature
thought is expressed that it is not the lover and the beloved but the passion
itself, not mortals but the very reality of their existence embodied in the
figure of the immortal goddess that is guilty of the misfortunes caused by
amorous passion.
With such a view, the roles of the lover and the beloved cease to be
opposite to each other: they are equally passive with respect to Aphrodite,
and therefore it is quite natural that the image of Iole subjected to violence
turns out to be equally applicable to both main characters of Hippolytus.
It describes Phaedra’s situation, yet to the same extent it foreshadows
Hippolytus’ tragic fate. In the conclusion of the drama, Hippolytus, just
like Iole, will be exiled from his home (see the entire third stasimon and,
specifically, τῶνδ᾽ ἀπ᾽ οἴκων, 1150). In addition, just like Iole, he will
metaphorically turn into a harnessed horse. We come across this image in
the exodos, where Artemis addresses Hippolytus with the exclamation:
ὦ τλῆµον, οἵᾳ συµφορᾷ συνεζύγης ‘To what misfortune you are yoked!’ (1389).
In addition, in the scene of the crash of Hippolytus’ chariot the hero gets
literally harnessed: the runaway horses entangle him in their reins:
αὐτὸς δ᾽ ὁ τλήµων ἡνίαισιν ἐµπλακεὶς
δεσµὸν δυσεξέλικτον ἕλκεται δεθείς,
And the poor man himself, entangled in the reins, bound in a bond not easy
to untie, is dragged along. (1236–7)219
Such is the end of the movement of the set of motifs started by the picture
of a pristine meadow: the hero, who was serenely picking flowers in the
inviolate meadow, dies, having fallen victim to violence on the part of
Aphrodite. Even though no literal sexual violence is committed in the
tragedy, this image is symbolically used to denote the misfortune that has
befallen Hippolytus and Phaedra and to define the roles of the characters
in that misfortune – the passive role of the human characters and the guilt
of Aphrodite.
In Hippolytus there is still another instance of the locus amoenus, which
contrasts sharply with the main movement of this motif towards violence
and misfortune. In the second stasimon, describing the garden of the
Hesperides, where the gods live their life in bliss – a place beyond the
human world of sorrow and suffering, the Chorus narrates:
κρῆναί τ᾽ ἀµβρόσιαι χέον–
ται Ζηνὸς µελάθρων παρὰ κοίταις,
ἵν᾽ ὀλβιόδωρος αὔξει ζαθέα
χθὼν εὐδαιµονίαν θεοῖς.
There fonts immortal flow by the place where Zeus lay, and holy Earth with
her gifts of blessedness makes the gods’ prosperity wax great. (748–51)
157
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 158
Chapter 6
This picture probably goes back to the landscape in the scene of seduction
of Zeus by Hera in the Iliad (14.346–51)220 and, like the space of
Hippolytus, it shows a combination of serene nature and sexuality –
sexuality which is expressed here with the word κοίταις ‘bed’ pointing at the
marriage of Zeus and Hera. However, whereas in the human locus amoenus
sexuality is linked to violence and creates a contrast with the bliss of the
landscape, here, in the world of the gods, ἔρως is an integral and organic
part of that bliss and is expressed through harmony rather than violence.
The gods themselves live without pain and suffering, without experiencing
or fearing violence.
The two main symbolic images of the tragedy, the image of the sea and
the image of pristine and wild nature, express in different ways a general
idea, describing the position of mortals in the world: humans are wretched
victims of reality in which they have to exist. Besides, the image of pristine
nature had a potential dynamic: it was traditionally a scene of sudden
intrusion of violence, and this property largely enables it to serve as a
framing for the dynamic composition of the drama with its transition from
happiness to misfortune.
158
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 159
7
SCENIC AND DRAMATIC SPACE
Euripides’ tragedy Hippolytus has a complex and integral structure formed
by recurrent images and motifs; these images and motifs, varying and
entering into various relations with one another, are, in the aggregate,
carriers of the conceptual meaning of the artistic whole. Such is the
conclusion arrived at in a number of studies of the last few decades, and
this idea has largely determined my approach to the analysis and
interpretation of the tragedy in the previous chapters. Verbal motifs –
either recurrent words or recurrent notions expressed with words that are
different yet close in meaning – are usually regarded as such motifs. On the
other hand, in his recent book David Wiles,221 basing himself to some
extent on the tradition of structural semiotic theater studies going back to
Anne Ubersfeld,222 made an attempt to apply the structural method to the
visual – above all, spatial – aspect of classical theater performance. Having
proposed his own theory of the division of space in classical Greek theater
(the center and periphery, horizontal and vertical axes and, in the horizontal
dimension, the orchēstra and skēnē and the right and left exit), he tried to
determine its essential elements, to establish their meaning and to show
how these meanings work in various plays. A substantial place in his
description was occupied by Hippolytus; for example, Wiles proposed to
view the contraposition between the skēnē and the orchēstra in this tragedy
as the opposition between Aphrodite and Artemis, and the right and left
exits express what he sees as the essential contrast between the sea and
land. I will examine these particular conclusions by Wiles later on; however,
regardless of their validity or invalidity, the idea of structural analysis of
theater space in Hippolytus seems to me perfectly correct. Indeed, the
playwright deliberately gave meanings to elements of that space; these
meanings are organized into an integral structure which expresses the overall
conception of the play in the same degree as the structure of verbal motifs.
However, the structural philological method presupposing analysis of
verbal motifs and the structural theater studies analysis should not merely
supplement each other. The study of a stage play calls for permanent
combination of the two approaches, since its two aspects, the verbal and
the visual, are most closely bound with each other.223 On the one hand,
159
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 160
Chapter 7
the elements of the theater space have their own function and their own
meaning passing on from play to play, and the need to take account of
these meanings determines to some extent the verbal and image structure
of a tragedy. For example, the contraposition between the skēnē and the
orchēstra – a closed and an open space – or the contraposition between the
lower and the upper level – the levels of the human and the divine – is
essential for many tragedies and itself requires embodiment in certain
verbal motifs. On the other hand, in each individual play these general
theater meanings may get different particular content: the same elements
of the scenic space may have different denotata and different associative
meanings in different plays; in addition, the scenic space visible to the
audience may be supplemented with different ‘diegetic’ space (i.e. space
expressed solely verbally in a narrative).224 It is only through verbal text
that the scenic space fully acquires the system of meanings which turns it
into the specific dramatic space of one play or another.
This chapter will focus precisely on such an interaction between the
verbal and visual levels in Hippolytus. I will try to show how the system of
verbal motifs describing a certain space (a house, an open space, or the
world of wild nature) corresponds to the division of the stage space (skē nē ,
orch¯estra, eisodoi), how these spatial motifs are developed in the tragedy, and
how the verbal and visual structures together express the conceptual
meaning of the play.
In the first place, a few words should be said about the elements
which comprised the theater space in classical Athens – in the theater of
Dionysus.225 At the center of the audience’s attention was a circular orchēstra
on which the Chorus and the actors performed. Adjoining the orchēstra on
one side was a structure whose technical function was to serve as a dressing
room for the actors but which also had a dramatic significance: its facade
represented the facade of a building (a palace, a temple, a tent or a cave)
in front of which the action of the drama took place. This structure was
called the skēnē. On the other sides, the orchēstra was surrounded by benches
for the audience. On two sides of the orchēstra, the rows of seating for
spectators came close to the skēnē but were not immediately adjacent to it,
leaving two passages (eisodoi ‘entrances,’ or parodoi ‘passageways’). During
a performance, the Chorus and the actors used these passages for entering
the orchēstra. In addition to the two eisodoi, there was still another entrance
leading to the orchēstra – a door in the skēnē. Besides the orchēstra, the actors
could also play on the upper level, the roof of the skēnē; sometimes an actor
playing the part of a god hung in midair, suspended from a special
mechanism – µηχανή.
This setup of the Greek theater determined certain specific features of
160
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 161
Scenic and dramatic space
spatial relations in a theater performance. The existence of two levels, an
upper and a lower one, made it possible to establish vertical relations in a
stage play. Usually these were relations between gods, who were allotted
the upper level, and humans, who acted at the level of the orchēstra. Quite
often yet another, underground level, the kingdom of the dead, was added
to them; it was not visible, but the characters might point at it both with
words and with gestures. In addition, the architectural elements comprising
the orchēstra level – the orchēstra itself, the skēnē and the eisodoi – could be
given various meanings, entering into relations with one another along the
horizontal axis. As I shall try to show further on, horizontal and vertical
relations between the elements of space play a key part in the structure of
Hippolytus.
The tragedy Hippolytus has a ring composition. The first part of the
tragedy, the prologue, echoes its last part, the exodus, in that taking part in
both of them are divine characters – Aphrodite in the prologue and
Artemis in the exodos. Thus, the beginning and the end serve as a special
framework, which correlates as a vertical axis, of interaction between
humans and gods, with the conflict that unfolds between human characters
in the main part of the drama along the horizontal axis. I shall first dwell
on the central part of the play with its horizontal relations and then shall
proceed to examine the vertical axis of the prologue and the exodos.
1. Horizontal axis
The central part of the tragedy – between the prologue and the exodos –
consists mainly of three scenes – Phaedra’s conversation with the Nurse
(176–524), the revelation of Phaedra’s secret to Hippolytus (565–731), and
Hippolytus’ conversation with Theseus (790–1101). In each of these scenes,
dramatic tension is produced by alternately concealing and revealing a
secret, accompanied by mutual misunderstanding, deceit and accusations.
The first and third scenes are similar in their slow unraveling. The hero or
the heroine (Phaedra in the first scene and Hippolytus in the last one) keeps
a secret, which lends tension to the action, and we await revelation of the
secret as a means to resolve the tension. In contrast to the first scene,
where a confession is elicited from Phaedra, in the third one the secret
is not divulged, yet in both cases the consequences turn out to be fatal.
The action in the second scene, on the contrary, develops very fast. In it,
several dialogues and a monologue take place within a very short time,
with nearly all the characters of the tragedy being involved in the action;
information passes rapidly from some of the characters to others:
Hippolytus learns about Phaedra’s love and Phaedra, in turn, learns about
the revelation of her secret and Hippolytus’ reaction to it. This scene turns
161
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 162
Chapter 7
out to be central to the composition of the entire tragedy and also its
turning point, for in it Phaedra’s secret passes from female to male
characters, which becomes the cause of the greatest misunderstanding,
unjust accusations and, finally, the death of the main characters.
In the text of the first two scenes, we come across two main spatial
images, each of which has a visual stage expression. They are the image of
the house, that of the open public space, and that of the remote space of
the wild. Each of them is associated with one of the tragedy’s characters:
the first one with Phaedra, the second one with the Chorus, and the third
one with Hippolytus. All of them appear for the first time in the prologue
and the parodos. These first descriptions of them form a kind of a spatial
exposition of the tragedy.
Taking part in the first of the three scenes are only female characters,
and it is therefore no coincidence that, in addition to the orchēstra, the
attention of the audience is riveted to the element of the theater space
which in the Greek theater was traditionally associated with the female
principle – the skēnē representing the house. From the very beginning, the
house is linked to Phaedra, who stays in it until her entrance onto the stage
in verse 176. The first characteristic of the house is contained in the
parodos. According to the Chorus, Phaedra:
τειροµέναν νοσερᾷ κοίτᾳ δέµας ἐντὸς ἔχειν
οἴκων, λεπτὰ δὲ φάρη ξανθὰν κεφαλὰν σκιάζειν·
τριτάταν δέ νιν κλύω
τάνδ᾽ ἀβρωσίᾳ
στόµατος ἁµέραν
∆άµατρος ἀκτᾶς δέµας ἁγνὸν ἴσχειν,
κρυπτῷ πάθει θανάτου θέλουσαν
κέλσαι ποτὶ τέρµα δύστανον.
lies afflicted in a bed of sickness and keeps indoors, with fine-spun cloths
covering her blond head. And I hear that for three days now, her mouth
taking no food, she has kept her body pure of Demeter’s grain, wishing
because of some secret grief to ground her life’s craft in the unhappy
journey’s-end of death. (131–40)
These verses already contain the associations that will be accompanying
the image of the house further on. Firstly, the house is associated with
malady or, rather (which the Chorus does not know yet but the audience
already know), with love sickness. The idea of association of the house
with the bed and love is elaborated upon in the same song of the Chorus
a few verses later when, making guesses about the possible causes of
Phaedra’s malady, the Chorus hazards a conjecture about the infidelity of
her husband, Theseus:
162
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 163
Scenic and dramatic space
ἢ πόσιν, τὸν Ἐρεχθειδᾶν
ἀρχαγόν, τὸν εὐπατρίδαν,
ποιµαίνει τις ἐν οἴκοις κρυ–
πτᾷ κοίτᾳ λεχέων σῶν;
Or is your husband, the nobly born, the king of the Erechtheid Athenians,
in the care of one who tends him in the house with a union hidden from
your bed? (151–4)
If, however, in the case of Phaedra her bed is a bed of love sickness, the
bed mentioned by the Chorus with reference to Theseus is a bed of love
itself. There is another common motif, a motif of concealment, present in
both passages. Both times this motif is combined with the image of the
house: in the latter instance, the house conceals Theseus’ alleged adultery
from Phaedra and in the former, it is precisely when staying in the house
that Phaedra conceals her malady.226 Thus, the image of the house combines
the motifs of love and secrecy.
The association of the house with secret love relations, just as with any
kind of treachery and deceit, was quite traditional.227 In her central
monologue, Phaedra, rebuking unfaithful wives, calls the darkness of the
house an accomplice in their adulteries (416–17). A little further on in his
monologue, Hippolytus speaks about adultery as about the carrying out of
evil plans plotted by women within doors (649–50). The behavior of
Phaedra, hiding her love in the house, thus turns out to be a variety of this
traditional topos, even though radically different from its habitual form,
since her ‘hiding’ is not immoral, as is the case with adulterous wives
condemned by her, but, on the contrary, being not the concealment of an
adultery but a struggle with a passion, it should appear noble and
commendable (329–30). However, gradually and not through the fault of
the heroine herself this ‘hiding’ acquires a more ordinary form of
concealing an actual adultery. It finds expression in intrigues of the Nurse,
who tries to bring together Phaedra and Hippolytus (again inside the house,
524 and 565–90). Finally, Hippolytus who, because of his one-sided notion
of women and his failure to see the possibility of an inner struggle, is
compelled to link these intentions to Phaedra herself, perceives them as
typical evil tricks of unfaithful wives (651–2).
Let us now revert to the parodos. The motif of the house appears in it
in the first antistrophe, whereas the preceding strophe contains yet another
spatial image. This image describes the space visited by the Chorus before
they enter the orchēstra – the space in which the women comprising the
Chorus learnt the news about Phaedra’s malady:
Ὠκεανοῦ τις ὕδωρ στάζουσα πέτρα λέγεται,
βαπτὰν κάλπισι ῥυτὰν παγὰν προιεῖσα κρηµνῶν.
163
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 164
Chapter 7
τόθι µοί τις ἦν φίλα
πορφύρεα φάρεα
ποταµίᾳ δρόσῳ
τέγγουσα, θερµᾶς δ᾽ ἐπὶ νῶτα πέτρας
εὐαλίου κατέβαλλ᾽· ὅθεν µοι
πρώτα φάτις ἦλθε δεσποίνας,
There is a cliff dripping water whose source, men say, is the river Oceanus:
it pours forth from its overhanging edge a flowing stream in which pitchers
are dipped. It was there that I found a friend soaking her crimson clothes
in the river-water and laying them out on the warm rock’s broad back in
the sun. From there it was that I first had news of my queen. (121–30)
Underlying the contrast between the two pictures, those of a friend washing
clothes and the sick Phaedra, is the opposition between openness and
closeness or between light and dark: the open and sunlit space where
women are washing clothes is opposite to the closed house where the sick
Phaedra is tormented with pain. The characteristics of an open, bright and
sunlit space are then transferred to the orchēstra itself. For example, when
the Nurse leaves the house together with Phaedra to enter the orchēstra,
she says to her mistress: ‘Here is daylight and here the bright sky’ (178).
The open and bright public space embodied in the orchēstra enables one to
see, which for the Greeks usually meant the ability to know the true reality.
The truth cannot be concealed from the sun, and thus, for example,
Hippolytus, wishing to elude the intrigues of the Nurse and refusing to
take part in her secret plot, bursts forth from the house onto the orchēstra
and calls to witness the ‘bright and open sunlight’ (601). It is no coincidence
that Phaedra’s secret itself is gradually revealed precisely in the sunlight –
first, the initial news about the heroine’s malady is received by the Chorus
‘in the sun,’ and then in daylight and under the bright sky Phaedra divulges
her secret to the Nurse and the Chorus, in response to which the Nurse,
sympathizing with the heroine and regretting her words, exclaims: ‘Hateful
to me is the day, the light I see!’ (355).
The third space participating in the drama attracts the audience’s
attention earlier, in the prologue, before the entrance of the Chorus with
its first song. The appearance of Hippolytus and his servants on the orchēstra
is accompanied by a characterization of the space from which they exit.
This is the specific space where Hippolytus dwells. When entering the
orchēstra, he is bearing a garland to present to Artemis. According to him,
he has gathered this garland from an inviolate meadow, apparently,
dedicated to the maiden goddess Artemis (73–81). In addition to the
meadow, Hippolytus’ world includes the woods and mountains where the
hero goes hunting (17–19, cf. also 215–22). Spatially, they are linked to the
164
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 165
Scenic and dramatic space
meadow, since during the entrance of Hippolytus these images appear
together: when Hippolytus is bringing his garland from the meadow, he is
at the same time returning from a hunt (52). Yet another image forming
part of this character’s world is the sandy shore where Hippolytus exercised
his horses (cf. 228–31).
Hippolytus’ space turns out to be in some respect opposite228 yet,
at the same time, in some respect similar to Phaedra’s house. Whereas
Hippolytus’ meadow is only associated with natural virtue, which, in the
hero’s opinion, is the only one possible (cf. 921–2), Phaedra’s house,
associated with the idea of concealment, embodies consciously virtuous
behavior opposing a naturally vicious feeling. On the other hand, these
two worlds have one feature in common: they are equally separated from
the ordinary public space in which the Chorus exists. The walls of the
house, separating Phaedra from people, help her hide her passion.
Hippolytus’ hunt in the woods and mountains is explicitly contraposed to
human communication (19).
All the three spaces, represented for the first time in the prologue and
parodos and participating in the first two scenes of the main part of the
tragedy, have a visual scenic embodiment. Phaedra’s house finds expression
in the skēnē. Since the main connotation of the image is concealment, an
important semantic load is carried by the doors of the house: closed doors
are associated with keeping silent and concealing the secret; the opening of
the doors and coming out of the house, with revealing and divulging the
secret. The public space of the Chorus is the orchēstra, and also one of the
eisodoi by which the Chorus enters the orchēstra. Finally, the other eisodos
leads to the remote wild world of Hippolytus.
Thus, two spaces, the skēnē and the off-stage space where one of the
eisodoi led, corresponded to the two main characters, Phaedra and
Hippolytus, and the qualities given to these spaces at the beginning of the
tragedy coincided with the characteristics of the protagonists themselves.
As for the orchēstra, on the one hand, it was the space of the Chorus. On the
other, it was a place which the characters entered, coming out of their
specific worlds, and where they inevitably encountered one another. In
addition, it should be borne in mind that in the Greek theater, where the
public sat around the orchēstra and not in front of the stage as in modern-
day theater, there was no well-defined and impenetrable boundary between
the action unfolding on the orchēstra and the audience. Spectators were to
feel not so much as detached contemplators but as witnesses involved in
the action, like judges present at a trial or participants in an assembly
listening to orators. Thus, the space of the orchēstra turned out to be to
some extent the space of the audience as well. In any case, the boundary
165
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 166
Chapter 7
between the orchēstra and the two worlds of the protagonists was to be felt
much more real than the boundary between the orchēstra and the public.
It is possible that the contraposition between Phaedra’s house and
Hippolytus’ space was additionally emphasized in yet another way. On the
orchēstra there were two statues – those of Aphrodite and Artemis. Evidence
of this is to be found in the text of the play: it is to the statue of Artemis
that Hippolytus is to bring his garland in verse 73, whereas the words of
Hippolytus’ servant addressed to his master can only refer to the statue of
Aphrodite: ‘The goddess here, Cypris, who stands beside your gate’ (τήνδ᾽
ἣ πύλαισι σαῖς ἐφέστηκεν Κύπρις, 101). This latter passage points at the place
where the statue of Aphrodite stood – near the entrance to the skēnē. Yet
we have no direct indications of the location of the statue of Artemis. Wiles
believes that the likenesses of the two goddesses were to convey the
contrast between the closed space of the house and the open space of the
orchēstra, and thus he places the statue of Artemis in the center of the
orchēstra.229 However, such a location – the statue of Artemis in the center
and the statue of Aphrodite behind it – would have tipped the balance,
essential for the tragedy, between the two goddesses. In addition, the
orchēstra, which was the place of interaction of all the forces participating in
the drama, could hardly be allotted to only one of the goddesses.
On the other hand, quite interesting is the parallelism between the
addresses to the statues accompanying the characters’ exit from the
orchēstra. Addressing Aphrodite at the end of the prologue, when entering
the house, are Hippolytus (113) and his servant (114–20); addressing
Artemis is Hippolytus – first, in the prologue, when entering the orchēstra
from his off-stage space (58–60), and then in the third epeisodion, when
going into exile (1092–4). Perhaps, these addresses at the moment of
entrance and exit are indicative of the location of the two statues near the
exits from the orchēstra through which the characters move and, whereas the
statue of Aphrodite marked the door leading into the skēnē, the statue of
Artemis had to be located near one of the two eisodoi. Thus, using the
statues, a contrast could be created between the spaces of the two
protagonists – the off-stage space and the house.
In this event, the statues were to fulfill a dual function. Firstly, by linking
each of the two spaces to one of the deities they additionally emphasized
the essential qualities of these worlds, which, at the same time, were the
distinctive features of the characters themselves – amorous passion in
Phaedra’s house and natural virginal purity in Hippolytus’ world. However,
these statues did not simply mark two spaces invisible to the spectator.
Being on the orchēstra, they were to bring the two singular worlds into the
public space, pushing them against each other. When entering the orchēstra,
166
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 167
Scenic and dramatic space
both Hippolytus and Phaedra ceased to be each inside their own world
and turned out to be between the two statues, i.e., facing a complex reality
containing at once two opposite forces – both love and purity. Quite
indicative in this respect is the first appearance of Hippolytus on the
orchēstra at the end of the prologue. First, he addresses a song and a speech
to the statue of Artemis and dedicates a garland to her and then
contemptuously passes by the statue of Aphrodite, refusing to venerate
the goddess. Thus Euripides makes tangible the contradiction between the
reality of human life with its two sides – reality expressed through the image
of the orchēstra with statues of the two goddesses and, on the other hand,
the one-sided attitude to the world taken by the hero, who sees and
recognizes only one of the two forces.
Thus, in the prologue and parodos an exposition is given of three spaces.
Let us now see how these images function and develop throughout the
first two scenes of the main part of the tragedy.
The first specific feature of their treatment is that, for all the visible
distinctness of the boundaries separating them, the characters are
compelled to transgress them and find themselves in other, opposite
worlds, which they see as alien. Both Phaedra and Hippolytus traverse
nearly the same path. First, they leave each his or her own remote or
confined world, to enter the open public space of the orchēstra, then even
find themselves, directly or in imagination, in the world of his or her
antagonist, and finally flee back, frightened or ashamed of their contact
with an alien reality.
In the prologue, Hippolytus, having returned from a hunt, comes out of
his space of the wild onto the orchēstra. Here on the orchēstra, as just
mentioned, he finds himself between the two statues, in a world ruled over
not only by Artemis but also by Aphrodite. Having no interest in this latter
deity (104), he passes by her statue paying no attention to her. Then,
however, Hippolytus moves even farther away from his own world. He
enters the house, where the very same Aphrodite whom he disdains reigns
supreme and the entrance to which is marked by her statue. His stay in the
space of Phaedra and Aphrodite proves to be extremely painful for the
hero. The house fully matches up to the associations of cunning and
adultery usually linked to it at the moment when the Nurse tries to tempt
him into adultery with Phaedra. Eventually he rushes out of the house,
calling the whole wide world – the earth and the sunlight – to be his witness
(601), curses women plotting evil plans inside the house (649), and finally
leaves the house (νῦν δ᾽ ἐκ δόµων µέν, ἔστ᾽ ἂν ἔκδηµος χθονὸς / Θησεύς, ἄπειµι
‘But as it is, while Theseus is out of the country, I shall leave the house,’
659–60) – in his opinion, for a while, but, as it turns out, forever.
167
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 168
Chapter 7
At the beginning of the first epeisodion Phaedra, in her turn, asks to be
carried out of the house, hoping that the light will relieve her pain (178).
However, the open public space of the orchēstra fails to help with her
malady. This contradiction between the place and the heroine’s state is
emphasized visually when the audience see the ‘sick-bed’ (νοσερᾶς / δέµνια
κοίτης, 179–80) on the orchēstra – the very same sick-bed the natural place
for which is the house and not the street (131–3). The Nurse speaks about
the uselessness of her mistress’s movements, predicting that Phaedra will
soon wish to get back into the house (182). Indeed, the light of the orchēstra
proves to be injurious to her, forcing her to reveal her secret. However, just
as in the case of Hippolytus, her movements are not limited to her entrance
onto the orchēstra. Phaedra goes even further, passing into Hippolytus’ space
in her dreams: she is longing to draw a drink of pure water from the spring
that waters Hippolytus’ meadow, to take her rest lying in that meadow, to
go to the wood running after the deer, and to ride a horse on the coastal
sands on the stretch of ground dedicated to Artemis (208–31). This
movement into an opposite space, even though imaginary and not real,
causes the heroine’s remorse: ‘Dear luckless me, what have I done? Where
have I wandered from the path of good sense?’ (239–40), and this remorse
is similar to Hippolytus’ regret that he feels when he gets into the house –
the realm of Aphrodite and female intrigues.
The paths of the two protagonists are in counterpoint to each other and
collide at the crucial point of the action, at the beginning of the second
scene when Hippolytus inside the house is listening to the propositions of
the Nurse, while Phaedra on the orchēstra hears, through the closed doors
of the house, Hippolytus’ reaction to them (565 ff.). Both main characters
simultaneously find themselves in spaces that are alien to them, Hippolytus
being inside and Phaedra outside. This moment becomes also the highest
point in the emotional development of the drama, where the hero’s
indignation is combined with the heroine’s horror.
The painfulness of the characters’ movement into worlds that are alien
to them emphasizes the existence of spatial boundaries preventing their
happier interaction. At the same time, these boundaries are largely the limits
of their characters and views of the world. The initial spatial separation of
the characters serves as a kind of metaphor expressing the separateness of
their consciousness because of which they are unable to correctly understand
each other. We find a most vivid example of such mutual misunderstanding
between the protagonists in the same crucial second scene. First,
Hippolytus wrongly ascribes the Nurse’s intentions to Phaedra, proceeding
from his notion of women and the impossibility to consciously fight down
a passion, and then Phaedra, fearing the disclosure of the secret of her love,
168
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 169
Scenic and dramatic space
does not hear Hippolytus’ promises to keep silent and, paying no attention
to them, decides to destroy both herself and her stepson. This
misunderstanding, essential for the tragedy, receives a remarkable visual
expression at the moment when both characters at the same time find
themselves on the orchēstra but do not see or hear each other and do not
come into any contact with each other (601–68).230
However, it is not only movement into an alien space that results
in suffering and misfortunes. Even each character’s own ‘native’ space
fails to fulfill the hopes pinned on it and destroys the character instead of
saving him.
In the preceding chapter, we dealt at length with the deceptiveness of
Hippolytus’ idyllic space invaded by destructive ἔρως. Another spatial image,
the image of the house, is also subordinated to this general development
leading to paradoxical refutation of the original meanings. The initial
meaning of the house is that it makes it possible to conceal love, whether
this means the concealment of love affairs or, as is the case with Phaedra,
a fight against passion. Yet already in the first scene the heroine expresses
certain doubts, although so far stated in the form of a hyperbole, about
the house’s ability to fulfill this function. In her great monologue, speaking
with indignation about unfaithful wives, Phaedra exclaims:
οὐδὲ σκότον φρίσσουσι τὸν ξυνεργάτην
τέραµνά τ᾽ οἴκων µή ποτε φθογγὴν ἀφῇ;
How do they not fear that the darkness, their accomplice, and the timbers
of the house will break into speech? (417–18)
This idea, which looks here like an impossible conjecture and which
repeats a traditional commonplace (cf. Aeschylus’ Agamemnon 37), receives
unexpected further development in the next scene. At that moment,
Phaedra is on the orchēstra, and she hears the Nurse’s conversation with
Hippolytus taking place in the house or, rather, the indignant cries with
which Hippolytus responds to the Nurse’s proposal to bring him together
with Phaedra (565–90). The image of the house and the very word ‘house’
recur many times in this scene in such phrases as ‘voice in the house,’ ‘cry
in the house,’ ‘din in the house’ (κέλαδος ἐν δόµοις, φάτις δωµάτων: see 567,
575–6, 578–9, 586–7), emphasizing the significance of this image here. The
meaning of the motif of the house in this situation can only be this:
contrary to the Nurse’s expectations, the house has turned out to be
incapable of concealing the secret of her conversation with Hippolytus.
The characters’ initial hopes for the possibilities of the house fail, but
Phaedra’s doubts that seemed exaggerated now materialize: indeed, the
house ‘breaks into speech’ – not in its own voice as in the traditional
169
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 170
Chapter 7
hyperbole used earlier but in the voices of people conversing inside it.
In addition, paradoxically, it is precisely in the house – the space where
Phaedra concealed her malady – that the secret of her love becomes known
to Hippolytus. These two simultaneous revelations related to the house,
those of the heroine’s passion and of her Nurse’s unsuccessful attempts to
act as a go-between, play a decisive role in Phaedra’s destiny. When she
hears Hippolytus’ indignant exclamations coming out of the house,
Phaedra realizes that her secret has been divulged and therefore decides to
commit suicide and to destroy Hippolytus.
Just as the house does not live up to its function as a concealing space,
the orchēstra fails to meet the expectations, initially linked to it, of serving as
a space revealing the truth. As noted in chapter 2, from the very beginning
of the drama the characters, fully in accordance with traditional Greek
notions, associate the true knowledge of reality with direct visual contact:
for them, to know means to see. It is the orchēstra with its light and publicity
that should be the place where this visual contact takes place and where,
therefore, the truth transpires. Indeed, Phaedra’s entrance onto the orchēstra
in the first scene results in revealing her secret. Then, however, the orchēstra
ceases to fulfill this function. In the second scene, there emerges an
invisible, impassable boundary between Hippolytus and Phaedra, who
appear on the orchēstra at the same time (601–8). Hippolytus does not see
Phaedra, and Phaedra, even if she sees him, does not accept his promise to
keep the secret of her love, remaining convinced, despite his assurances
(660), that the secret will be divulged. Finally, in the third scene, the
deceptiveness of the orchēstra, of light and of a direct look in the face
manifests itself in full. Theseus enters the orchēstra, and then the doors of
the house swing open and Phaedra’s body is rolled out through the doors
on a special wheeled device, the eccyclēma.231 Theseus sees his wife with his
own eyes and gives an absolute cognitive meaning to this vision. He fully
believes what he sees, including Phaedra’s suicide note falsely accusing
Hippolytus of assaulting her, and therefore his son’s words cannot dissuade
him. Vision-related vocabulary occupies an exceptional place in this scene
(809, 822, 845, 865, 879, 943, 947). Theseus contrasts the sight of his dead
wife – which, in his opinion, is a sure mark of the truth – to Hippolytus’
words which, on account of their being no more than words, do not
deserve to be believed (960–961).
In reality, however, vision produces an opposite effect in this scene.
Being the strongest of all sensations, it gives rise to the strongest emotions.
These emotions deprive the hero of the ability to assess reality rationally
and lead to the last of the tragic errors in the play – the curse of Hippolytus
by Theseus, which results in his death.
170
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 171
Scenic and dramatic space
Thus, both the house and the orchēstra behave in a dual manner. The
house not only conceals a secret but also divulges it; the orchēstra not only
reveals the truth but also deceives. If there is any logic in the functioning
of these spaces, it consists in the fact that any kind of their participation in
the characters’ destinies is destructive. They are absolutely subjected to the
whim of Aphrodite, who has decided to destroy Hippolytus and Phaedra
together with him; all of the humans’ hopes pinned on them turn out to be
illusory. Quite indicative in this sense is still another use of the topos of the
‘speaking house’ in the third scene of the main part of the drama. After
Phaedra wondered how unfaithful wives did not fear that the house would
speak and expose their infidelities, and after Phaedra’s house ‘broke into
speech’ and divulged both her secret and the secret intentions of the Nurse,
Hippolytus addresses the house, appealing to it as the only witness of his
innocence:
ὦ δώµατ᾽, εἴθε φθέγµα γηρύσαισθέ µοι
καὶ µαρτυρήσαιτ᾽ εἰ κακὸς πέφυκ᾽ ἀνήρ.
O house, would that you could utter speech on my behalf and bear me
witness whether I am base! (1074–5)
At that moment, however, the house keeps silent, and Hippolytus fails to
acquit himself.
Thus, in the course of the drama there is a gradual reassessment of the
images of the house and the open public space represented by the orchēstra:
it turns out that, alongside the meanings ascribed to them by the characters
at the beginning of the drama, they may acquire opposite meanings as well.
In addition to this movement, in Hippolytus there occurs still another
spatial transformation – a more radical one, since it involves a complete
restructuring of all spatial relations in general. This transformation takes
place in the third epeisodion.
The third scene begins with the appearance of Theseus returning home
from his visit to the oracle. We have no definite indications concerning
the eisodos by which Theseus enters the orchēstra; however, the general logic
of the characters’ spatial movements enables us to make at least some
assumptions.
As already noted, in the prologue and parodos the two eisodoi were to be
used for Hippolytus’ entrance from his world of the wild and for the
entrance of the Chorus. In the second epeisodion, Hippolytus leaves the
orchēstra through one of these eisodoi, expecting to wait until the return of his
father and see whether Phaedra will dare to look Theseus in the face after
all that has happened (659 ff.). In the third epeisodion, the characters come
and go through the eisodoi three times: first, Theseus makes an appearance,
171
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 172
Chapter 7
then, having heard his cries, Hippolytus enters the orchēstra, and finally, at
the end of the epeisodion, Hippolytus goes into exile (Theseus, also leaving
the orchēstra at the end of the epeisodion, enters the house). The text and
the apparent logic of the drama help us determine the direction of some of
these movements. For example, the appearance of Hippolytus in the
prologue and his exit in the third epeisodion are similarly accompanied by
his addresses to Artemis. We can assume that the same eisodos marked by
the statue of Artemis was used in both cases. Then, as we mentioned
earlier, the entrance of the Chorus in the parodos was to be made through
the other eisodos so as to separate Hippolytus’ world of the wild and the
public space of the Chorus.232 Most likely, Theseus appeared at the
beginning of the third epeisodion not from the eisodos through which
Hippolytus left the orchēstra at the end of the second epeisodion and from
which he once again entered the orchēstra in the middle of the third, for
otherwise the audience might think it possible that they met behind the
stage. Finally, we have certain reasons to assume that Theseus entered the
orchēstra in the third epeisodion through the same eisodos as Hippolytus did
in the prologue. Such a mise-en-scène would have corresponded to the
apparent parallelism of the two entrances emphasized by a significant
detail: both of them were carrying garlands that symbolized joy. Hippolytus
was holding a garland in his hands, intending to dedicate it to Artemis (73),
and Theseus was carrying a garland on his head as a sign of an auspicious
oracular response (806–7).
The above considerations enable us to construct the following picture
of entrances/exits through the eisodoi:
eisodos A – Hippolytus’ entrance in the prologue, Theseus’ entrance and
Hippolytus’ exit in the third epeisodion, the appearance of the messenger in
the fourth epeisodion, and Hippolytus’ appearance in the exodos;
eisodos B – the entrance of the Chorus in the parodos, Hippolytus’ exit at
the end of the second epeisodion and his entrance at the beginning of the
third epeisodion.
In this picture, we can see a rather clear distinction between the meanings
of the two eisodoi and, interestingly enough, their contrast coincides with the
one mentioned in later authors: eisodos A is associated with the world of
the wild or with the road abroad and eisodos B, with the space of the polis.233
However, when comparing two entrances, Hippolytus’ appearance in
the prologue and Theseus’ appearance at the beginning of the third
epeisodion, we can see that the meaning of eisodos A has changed. It now
leads not into the world of the wild, which despite its remoteness from the
usual public space nevertheless formed a part of Troizen, but to faraway
172
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 173
Scenic and dramatic space
lands. At the end of the scene, Hippolytus, going into exile, leaves the
orchēstra by the very same eisodos, and again this way leads not to his favorite
places but abroad.234 Thus a new contrast is produced, which differs greatly
from all the spatial contrasts of the first two scenes; it is a contrast of home
and abroad. Its importance is quite apparent in the third stasimon, where
a lament for the banished Hippolytus begins and ends with words about his
going away ‘into another land’ (1123–5), ‘from his native land, away from
his home’ (1145–50). In this new spatial division, the world of the wild,
associated with Hippolytus, becomes a part of his native land (1126–30),
of his ‘home’ in a broader and more general meaning than that of the
‘house,’ which it had in the first scenes. Thus, the main spatial opposition
of the first part of the tragedy no longer exists here. Hippolytus’ home and
his world are no longer opposite to each other but, on the contrary,
combined with each other. Moreover, this ‘home’ in its new meaning
combines both devotion to Artemis and love. The Chorus is equally
distressed that now, when Hippolytus is in exile, ‘ungarlanded are the
resting-places of Leto’s daughter,’ and that ‘the girls have lost their bridal
rivalry for Hippolytus’ bed’ (1137–41).
The word ‘home’ (δόµος, οἶκος) is regularly used in the third scene in a
broader sense, meaning not the building inside which Phaedra concealed
her passion but the family and native land. The main motifs associated
with this word are now the motifs of the downfall of the home (813, 870),
sorrow for the home (845, 1344), and the departure from home to a foreign
land (1150). The orchēstra, where Hippolytus and his father as well as the
Chorus of women lamenting Hippolytus’ fate are, is also perceived here as
part of that home. Moreover, it is obvious that the uniting of the ‘home’
in the narrow sense with the orchēstra was visually expressed. It occurred at
the moment when, on Theseus’ orders, the doors of the house were
opened and, according to the conventions adopted in the Greek theater,
the object which the character saw inside it – the body of dead Phaedra –
was rolled out onto the orchēstra. Now the house with its doors opened no
longer concealed anything and, since its interior was transferred onto the
orchēstra, there was no longer any strict boundary between the two spaces.
We can therefore assume that all the three spaces, which have earlier
opposed each other, are now joined together in a single common image of
the home and together oppose foreign land. As a result, the meaning of the
characters’ spatial movements also changes. Previously, the characters’
transition from one space to another showed the inviolability of the
boundaries separating them and, at the same time, the relativity and
subjectivity of these boundaries. Here, on the contrary, the boundaries
between the characters’ worlds no longer exist: instead of these boundaries
173
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 174
Chapter 7
there appears a line separating their common world from the space of
foreign land. The crossing of this line is a symbolic expression of human
suffering and death. As a matter of fact, the departure from home had this
meaning in the play earlier; however, this was in diegetic space and not in
the visual space of the drama. At the beginning of the second stasimon the
Chorus sang about its dreams of flying to the blessed lands in the extreme
west beyond the human world full of misfortune; however, this path,
which could bring relief and joy, is forbidden to mortals, since paradise
only belongs to gods. The road destined to humans is depicted in the
second half of the stasimon telling about the fate of Phaedra, whom a
‘Cretan vessel with wing of white canvas...ferried...from her house of
blessedness... to make an unhappy bride’ (755–6). The progress from a
house of blessedness to a foreign land, to misfortune and suffering and
eventually to death turns out to be a kind of a diegetic pattern applied to
Hippolytus in the last part of the drama and implemented here through
scenic means.
It appears that the change in spatial relations is related to a change in the
viewpoint on space and, in general, on the action and the characters taking
part in it. Predominating in the opening scenes is the characters’ subjective
view of themselves and each other and, hence, of the space which they
allot to themselves. The mood of these scenes is determined by their
mutual accusations and their affirmation of their own rightness. In the
course of the play, however, it turns out that these accusations are unfair
and their rightness is relative. The subjective tone of the first part gradually
gives place to an objective view, according to which the boundaries
separating the characters and preventing them from understanding each
other have no significance next to the suffering that awaits them.
2. Vertical axis
At the center of attention in the prologue and exodos enclosing the main
action of the tragedy are the relations between humans and gods. The
prologue begins with Aphrodite declaring her power over all mankind and
announcing her intention to destroy Hippolytus. Then, Hippolytus appears
with his servants; they praise Artemis and talk about their attitude towards
Aphrodite. Taking part in the exodos, on the contrary, is Artemis, but it is
Aphrodite who is the subject of most of the dialogues. There is no doubt
that in the exodos Artemis appeared on the upper level,235 either on a
special mechanical device, on the roof of the skēnē or on a tower built for
the purpose behind the skēnē. In the prologue, Aphrodite most likely
appeared on the orchēstra (cf. verse 53, where she expresses her desire to
leave in order to avoid meeting Hippolytus);236 however, this position was
174
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 175
Scenic and dramatic space
only possible because her entrance preceded the action of the tragedy and,
therefore, any division of the stage space in general.
In tragedies, vertical relations between gods and mortals usually expressed
the power and domination of the former over the latter,237 and also their
‘social, ethical and psychological separation.’ 238 Both meanings are present
in Hippolytus as well. The main theme of Aphrodite’s speech in the prologue
is the power and magnificence of that goddess (1–9) and her revenge
against Hippolytus, who underestimates her power; she has no doubt that
she will carry out her plan with little effort (23) and that it cannot be
resisted. In the exodos, Artemis speaks about her desire to destroy, in a
similar way, some mortal that Aphrodite loves, directing her revenge for
Hippolytus on humans down below (1417–22).
While gods’ wrath cannot be withstood, their love brings humans no
relief either because gods and humans exist in absolutely different worlds.
The separation of gods from humans, spatially expressed through the
separation between the upper and the lower level, is also conveyed verbally,
as we saw in Chapter 5.
Even if the vertical division of the stage space was not visually shown
in the prologue, it appears in the exodos. The development of this division
is in sharp contrast to the dynamics of horizontal relations in the main part
of the tragedy. The boundaries between the human characters turn out to
be inessential and disappear; at the same time, however, the boundaries
separating humans from gods remain inviolable. This spatial composition
of the drama corresponds to its development in meaning: the conflicts
between the human characters, which at first seem to determine the
movement of the tragedy, turn out to be meaningless; the conflict between
humans and gods appears to be the only true and real one. The dissociation
of humans from one another results from narrowness in their view of
themselves, of others and of the world and is eventually removed – both
as a result of a common misfortune extending to all of them, and thanks to
their ability to show respect to one another at the last moment. In its turn,
the boundary separating gods from humans is absolute, since gods, unlike
humans, are devoid of this quality. Their inability to respond to humans’
entreaties or be considerate of their misfortunes is emphasized more than
once. The plea made by Hippolytus’ servant to Aphrodite, to forgive
his young and therefore not-quite-sensible master, remains unanswered
(114–20). No offerings and no devotions can make Artemis save
Hippolytus from death. Whereas in the prologue Hippolytus and his
servants hope for gods’ help and attention to them (cf. their phrases
Ἄρτεµιν, ᾇ µελόµεσθα ‘Artemis, who cares for us’ in verse 60 and ἄλλοισιν
ἄλλος θεῶν τε κἀνθρώπων µέλει ‘Each has his likes, in gods and men alike’
175
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 176
Chapter 7
in verse 104), at the end of the drama these hopes are scattered, which is
expressed through the Chorus’ words in the third stasimon:
ἦ µέγα µοι τὰ θεῶν µελεδήµαθ᾽, ὅταν φρένας ἔλθῃ,
λύπας παραιρεῖ· ξύνεσιν δέ τιν᾽ ἐλπίδι κεύθων
λείποµαι ἔν τε τύχαις θνατῶν καὶ ἐν ἔργµασι λεύσσων·
Greatly does the gods’ care, when it comes to my mind, relieve my trouble;
but hopes cannot conceal my understanding as I look amid men’s fortunes
and doings. (1102–7)
The contrast between the impregnability of the boundaries separating gods
and mortals and closeness among humans, even though achieved only at
the last moment, is particularly strongly expressed in the final scene of
exodos – the scene of Hippolytus’ farewell with Artemis and Theseus. For
all her love and pity for Hippolytus, Artemis is distant from him; being a
goddess, she cannot shed tears and be present at his dying. Her calmness
is contrasted by the human feelings towards each other experienced by
Hippolytus and Theseus, who lament over each other’s misfortunes and
stay together until the last words of the drama.
In the prologue and exodos there is still another level on the vertical
axis. It is the invisible yet implied underground level – the domain of
Hades. The first indication of it is contained at the very end of Aphrodite’s
introductory monologue, in the words with which she accompanies
Hippolytus’ entrance onto the orchēstra: οὐ γὰρ οἶδ᾽ ἀνεῳγµένας πύλας / Ἅιδου,
φάος δὲ λοίσθιον βλέπων τόδε ‘He does not know that the gates of Hades
stand open for him and that this day’s light is the last he will see’ (56–7).
The next phrase put into the mouth of Hippolytus makes the audience
correlate the underworld with the upper heavenly level:
ἕπεσθ᾽ ᾄδοντες ἕπεσθε
τὰν ∆ιὸς οὐρανίαν
Ἄρτεµιν, ᾇ µελόµεσθα.
Come follow me and sing of Zeus’s heavenly daughter Artemis, who cares
for us. (58–60)
Echoing Aphrodite’s words, which set the stage for the drama to follow,
is Hippolytus’ line which he utters at the end of the exodos after he has
become aware of the full force of the goddess’s wrath and the inevitability
of his death: ὄλωλα καὶ δὴ νερτέρων ὁρῶ πύλας ‘I am gone. I see the gates of
the Underworld’ (1447).
These two interrelated phrases between which the entire action of the
play occurs clearly show the relations between the domain of Hades and
the other elements of the spatial structure. At the beginning of the drama
176
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 177
Scenic and dramatic space
it is invisible to the hero, whose eyes are cast upwards at the heavenly world
where Artemis resides. Whereas the insurmountable boundary separating
him from gods is imperceptible to him, the boundary between his human
level and the lower realm of the dead is still absolutely impenetrable to his
vision. At the same time, Aphrodite, speaking about the ‘open gates of
Hades,’ notes another, actual correlation of spaces which Hippolytus will
see in the end: the only vertical movement that awaits man is movement
downwards and not upwards and the only boundary open to him in his
vertical movement is the boundary between the world of the living and
the world of the dead.
In the course of the action, death, placed in the prologue on the lower,
underground level and therefore invisible to the characters, moves to the
horizontal level of the human world and gradually fills the entire space of
the drama. First, it penetrates into the skēnē, where Phaedra dies, and then,
in the second half of the tragedy – into the off-stage space designating
foreign land where doom awaits Hippolytus. Finally, in the final scene of
the exodos, in which Theseus holds the dying Hippolytus in his arms, death
enters the orchēstra. It is here on the orchēstra that Hippolytus dies (1458),
having seen the open gates of the Underworld. At this moment the
boundaries which formerly separated humans no longer exist, the
boundary between the world of the mortals and the realm of the dead
vanishes, and the impenetrable line separating the orchēstra from the upper
level – mortals from gods – becomes even more evident.
177
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 178
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 179
NOTES
1 In the last few decades, there have appeared quite a number of studies of this
type dealing with Euripides’ tragedies. Focusing specifically on Hippolytus are, for
example, Goff 1990, Rabinowitz 1993, and Zeitlin 1996.
2 Tolstoy 1928–1958, 268–9.
3 Allan 2000, 40 f.
4 Cf. Knox 1979, 205 on Hippolytus.
5 ‘Euripides tends to tie his complicated actions together by repeated words or
thematic ideas’ (Lattimore 1964, 106).
6 Wilamowitz-Moellendorff 1891, 53. See also Festugière 1954, 15, where greater
attention is paid to the religious and mystical aspect – Hippolytus’ special loyalty to
Artemis.
7 Méridier 1927, 23, for a positive assessment of Hippolytus, see also Pohlenz 1930,
281.
8 Linforth 1914.
9 Grene 1939.
10 Dodds 1925.
11 Segal 1965, 119. Cf. other examples of psychoanalytical reading – Segal 1978–9,
Rankin 1982, Devereux 1985.
12 Zeitlin 1996, 220.
13 Knox 1979.
14 Avery 1968.
15 Luschnig 1983, Luschnig 1988.
16 I use ‘forgiveness’ (συγγνώµη) in its specific ancient sense which differs from its
modern meaning. In his recent book D. Konstan has shown persuasively that, unlike
modern forgiveness, ancient συγγνώµη necessarily presupposed the recognition of
involuntariness of one’s deed, and thus rather resembled our ‘exoneration.’ See
Konstan 2010.
17 The importance of the idea of forgiveness in Hippolytus was stressed only in two
articles, which unfortunately went almost unnoticed – Blomqvist 1982, and de Romilly
1995.
18 Hathorn 1957.
19 Kovacs 1980, Kovacs 1987.
20 Reckford 1974, cf. Segal 1970, 282.
21 This is the most widespread and ‘orthodox’ view; cf., e.g., Linforth 1914, Dodds
1925, Segal 1965, Cairns 1997, Diggle 1989.
22 Hathorn 1957, Luschnig 1983, and Luschnig 1987, chapter 5.
23 English translations of Greek passages are cited mostly from Loeb editions
published online in the Perseus project, though I make changes when I deem it
necessary.
24 Cf., e.g., Antiphon 5.92: τὰ µὲν ἀκούσια τῶν ἁµαρτηµάτων ἔχει συγγνώµην, τὰ δὲ
ἑκούσια οὐκ ἔχει. Τὸ µὲν γὰρ ἀκούσιον ἁµάρτηµα, ὦ ἄνδρες, τῆς τύχης ἐστί, τὸ δὲ ἑκούσιον
τῆς γνώµης ‘Moreover, whereas involuntary mistakes are excusable, voluntary mistakes
are not; for an involuntary mistake is due to chance, gentlemen, a voluntary one to the
will.’ Antiphon 1.27: οὕτω δέ τοι καὶ ἐλεεῖν ἐπὶ τοῖς ἀκουσίοις παθήµασι µᾶλλον προσήκει
ἢ τοῖς ἑκουσίοις καὶ ἐκ προνοίας ἀδικήµασι καὶ ἁµαρτήµασι ‘Involuntary accidents deserve
179
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 180
Notes
such pity: not deliberately planned crimes and acts of wickedness.’ Demosthenes,
24.49: τοῖς γὰρ ἄκουσιν ἁµαρτοῦσι µέτεστι συγγνώµης, οὐ τοῖς ἐπιβουλεύσασιν ‘Excusation
belongs to those who offend unwittingly, not to those who have concerted a plot’.
Demosthenes, 18.274: ἀδικεῖ τις ἑκών· ὀργὴν καὶ τιµωρίαν κατὰ τούτου. ἐξήµαρτέ τις
ἄκων· συγγνώµην ἀντὶ τῆς τιµωρίας τούτῳ ‘A man has sinned willfully: he is visited with
resentment and punishment. He has erred unintentionally: pardon takes the place of
punishment.’
25 Aristotle EN 1109b31–2: ἐπὶ µὲν τοῖς ἑκουσίοις ἐπαίνων καὶ ψόγων γινοµένων, ἐπὶ
δὲ τοῖς ἀκουσίοις συγγνώµης, ἐνίοτε δὲ καὶ ἐλέου ‘It is only voluntary feelings and actions
for which praise and blame are given; those that are involuntary are condoned, and
sometimes even pitied.’
26 See, e.g., the speech Against Theocrines ascribed to Demosthenes (58.24).
27 Cf. Lysias 24.17: ‘The young are held to merit indulgence from their elders
(συγγνώµη).’
28 Lysias 12.29.
29 The expression οὐκ οἶδα and its variants, τοσοῦτον ἴσµεν ‘That is as much as we
know,’ 804, the interrogative ἴστε ‘Do you know?’ 790, etc., are constantly repeated
in the drama, being one of the most frequently appearing lexical motifs: see 40; 56; 92;
271; 277; 344; 517; 599; 904; 981; 1004; 1033.
30 See Grube 1961, 180, Kovacs 1987, 38.
31 Cf. also Euripides Supp. 250–1. On the connection between quick temper and
young age, cf. Aristotle Rh. 1369a9–10.
32 See Taplin 1978, 155–6.
33 On µετάστασις in general and in the final scene of Hippolytus in particular, see
Konstan 2010, 39 and 77.
34 Cf., e.g., Pasiphae’s defense in The Cretans fr. 472e and Helen’s defense in The
Trojan Women, Tr. 948–50; see also Supp. 250–1, Pho. 994–6, Polyidus fr. 645, and
Alcmaeon fr. 68.
35 Hathorn 1957, 211–12.
36 Cf., e.g., Demosthenes’ speech 21.90, where ἐπιείκεια, ‘kindness,’ stands alongside
συγγνώµη, ‘pardon’: [the author speaks with irony and indignation about the arguments
of his opponent, Meidias] δεῖ καὶ µήτε συγγνώµης µήτε λόγου µήτε ἐπιεικείας µηδεµιᾶς
τυχεῖν, ἃ καὶ τοῖς ὄντως ἀδικοῦσιν ἅπανθ᾽ ὑπάρχει ‘(a citizen of Athens)...must obtain
neither pardon nor right of defence nor any kindness, privileges extended even to
those whose guilt is established.’
37 The contrast between kindness and justice, between τὸ ἐπιεικές and τὸ δίκαιον,
was widespread in 5th-century literature; cf., e.g., Hdt. 3.53, S. fr. 770, Antiphon 2.2.13.
38 Knox 1979.
39 Knox 1979, 216.
40 On the ambiguity of the Nurse’s words see Barrett 1964, 252–6.
41 Cf. the belief in autopsy in Thucydides, 1.22, see Segal 1992, 438.
42 On the ambivalence of the words ψυχῆς µιᾶς ‘one life,’ which express Phaedra’s
decision to commit suicide as well as her decision to destroy Hippolytus, see Barrett
1964, 296, on 721.
43 See Segal 1992, 438, Segal 1993, 150.
44 Both these aspects of the motif of vision have been noticed by Segal (1992, 438):
‘In Hippolytus, vision proves no better a guide to truth than language. It is also
180
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 181
Notes
emotionally inflammatory, for Phaedra conceived her passion through the eyes (27;
cf. 525 f.) and Theseus rushes from grief to fury at the “bitter sight” (825).’
45 This is how the majority of scholars understand the passage, cf. Wilamowitz-
Moellendorff 1891, 105, Barrett 1964, 258, on 525–6, Kovacs 1995. However, since
the preposition κατά in combination with genitive can mean not only ‘down into,
down over,’ but also ‘down from,’ the beginning of the sentence may be understood
in a different way – ‘dripping desire from the eyes.’ We find this latter interpretation,
e.g., in Coleridge 1891, 89, Cairns 2011, n. 4. Barrett rightly argued against this view:
‘Not “down from”: not “from (lovers’) eyes,” for you cannot drip things from
another’s eyes; not “from thine eyes,” for Eros’ eyes are irrelevant’ (Barrett, loc. cit.).
Sometimes though Eros’s eyes stand for those of the beloved, as, e.g., in Ibycus
fr. 287.1–4 PMG; in this case the word πόθος could be understood metonymically,
not in the sense of desire but of capability to generate desire, or ‘desirability.’ Such an
interpretation could make the passage from Hippolytus an example of a well-known
traditional poetic topos explaining the emergence of love by an attractive active force
emanating from the eyes of the beloved – the force of their glance (on this topos see
Cairns 2011). This force is described by a number of common images – more often
by images of fire, rays of light or arrows emitted by the eyes of the beloved, but
sometimes as a fluid dripping from them, cf. Hesiod Th. 910–11, Callistratus Stat. 14.5.
Nevertheless, despite the existence of these parallels there are a number of arguments
ruling out the possibility of such an interpretation of the passage from Hippolytus.
Firstly, it may be noted that in all the instances where desirability is represented as a
fluid emanating from the eyes of the beloved, this image emphasizes the beauty of
the beloved. This meaning, however, is not quite relevant to the content of the tragedy,
in which beauty does not play any role at all. This motif is found neither in describing
Phaedra’s passion nor in the various mythological love stories told by the characters
and the Chorus. Sometimes the motif of beauty is particularly irrelevant, as, for
example, in the case of Pasiphae’s passion for the bull (337–8). This argument, based
on the meaning and function of the image, is corroborated by another one – an
argument from grammar. When the preposition κατά means ‘down from,’ the
movement it describes is always downwards. Thus, for example, it is applied to tears
flowing down from the eyes onto the ground (δάκρυα δέ σφι / θερµὰ κατὰ βλεφάρων
χαµάδις ῥέε µυροµένοισιν, Il. 17.437–8) or to a spring dripping down from a high rock
(ὕδωρ κατὰ τοῦ κρηµνοῦ στάζει, Paus. 8.17.6). If, however, the eyes of Eros stand for
those of the beloved in our passage, then ‘desirability’ cannot flow down from them:
it should rather flow forward to reach the lovers. Indeed, in all the instances describing
beauty dripping from the eyes other prepositions are used – ἀπό ‘from,’ as in Hesiod
Th. 910 (τῶν καὶ ἀπὸ βλεφάρων ἔρος εἴβετο δερκοµενάων), or ἐκ ‘out of,’ as in Callistratus’
passage above (Stat. 14.5: ἀφροδίσιον ἵµερον ἐξ ὀµµάτων στάζουσαι). On the other hand,
when κατά describes movement towards or into a certain point, this movement need
not necessarily be directed downwards. This preposition may indicate that movement
comes to the surface of an object from outside or penetrates from its surface into its
interior. For example, when Hippolytus says in verse 1444: κατ᾽ ὄσσων κιγχάνει µ᾽ ἤδη
σκότος (‘Darkness is coming down upon my eyes!’), he only means that darkness is
coming over his eyes, and not that it is coming down from the heavens. Still another
example of such usage of κατά contains the very same verb στάζειν which we find in
Hippolytus. In an epigram ascribed to Plato (AP 16.13.3–4), a pipe is said to drip sleep
181
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 182
Notes
over the eyes of the listener, just as Eros may be dripping desire over the eyes of the
lover: καί σοι καχλάζουσιν ἐµοῖς παρὰ νάµασι σῦριγξ / θελγοµένῳ στάξει κῶµα κατὰ
βλεφάρων. This semantic feature of the preposition κατά is quite sufficient for the
phrase to be free of any ambiguity. It can mean only ‘distilling desire down upon
the eyes.’
46 See Cairns 2011.
47 Cf., e.g., on speech (13): ἡ πειθὼ προσιοῦσα τῷ λόγῳ καὶ τὴν ψυχὴν ἐτυπώσατο ὅπως
ἐβούλετο, and on vision (15): διὰ δὲ τῆς ὄψεως ἡ ψυχὴ κἀν τοῖς τρόποις τυποῦται. The
discourse about the emotional impact of poetry is balanced by a similar discourse
about vision and fine arts. On the analogy between these two parts of Gorgias’ work
see Innes 2006, 133 n. 13.
48 Cf., e.g., Redfield 1975, 118. On αἰδώς in Greek literature (and particularly in
Hippolytus) see Cairns 1993.
49 On ὕβρις see chapter 4, note 98.
50 κάκιον codd., κακίον᾽ in Barrett’s text, see below (p. 000).
51 I will omit from my consideration the much-discussed question about
connections between the passage from Protagoras and Phaedra’s words in her
monologue (see, e.g., Snell 1948, Snell 1964, 23 ff., Dodds, 1951, 186 ff., Irwin, 1983,
183–97, Holzhausen 1995, 33–5). I cannot accept the widely-held opinion that
Euripides is here responding to the idea of Socrates (see criticism of this opinion in
Barrett 1964, 229, on 377–81), but, in any case, this problem is not so important for
the interpretation of Hippolytus.
52 See e.g. Lysias 1.26, 21.19, cf. Aristoteles EN 1111a32–3.
53 See Barrett 1964, 227, on 375, where Plato Tht. 172e, Laws 650a, and Aeschylus
Ch. 680 are cited as parallels to such usage of ἄλλως.
54 This dramatic role of this passage is rightly emphasized by Kovacs (1980,
291–2), who at the same time (unreasonably in my opinion) denies its connection with
errors previously committed by Phaedra (Kovacs 1980, 292).
55 Barrett 1964, 229, on 381–5.
56 Kovacs 1980, 293. Certainly, there are examples of separating ἄλλος from the
governing word (cf., e.g., Od. 6.84: ἅµα τῇ γε καὶ ἀµφίπολοι κίον ἄλλαι); however, a
separation that would be so emphatic as the one to be seen here is found nowhere else.
57 Barrett 1964, 230, on 381–5.
58 Kovacs 1980, 288.
59 Willink 1968.
60 Claus 1972.
61 Kovacs 1980, 300.
62 Kovacs 1980, 297, n. 19.
63 See also criticism of this hypothesis in Manuwald 1979, 135 ff., Craik 1993, 47 f.
64 I omit from my consideration the opinion of Craik 1993, who understands αἰδώς
here as a metonymical euphemism for ἔρως: such a use of αἰδώς is unparalleled.
65 Dodds 1925, 102–3.
66 Kovacs 1980, 289.
67 Cairns 1996b.
68 Kovacs 1980, 302.
69 Segal 1970, 281.
70 Segal 1970, 283–4.
182
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 183
Notes
71 Cairns 1993, 333.
72 In order somehow to rationalize his thought about a connection between αἰδώς
in verse 335 with Phaedra’s subsequent desire to appear dignified in the eyes of others,
Cairns makes an utterly impossible supposition: in his opinion, Phaedra confesses to
the Nurse her passion for Hippolytus because she is confident that this confession,
being a confession of her resistance against her passion, will gain her honor. Thus
Phaedra, in Cairns’ opinion, agrees with the coaxing phrase of the Nurse, οὔκουν
λέγουσα τιµιωτέρα φανῇ; ‘Why, speak it out, then, and you’ll be more honored!’ (332),
replying to the line of Phaedra herself, τὸ µέντοι πρᾶγµ᾽ ἐµοὶ τιµὴν φέρει ‘To me the
affair brings honor’ (329). Indeed, the Nurse’s thought logically follows from
Phaedra’s words about the affair bringing honor, but it turns out to be wrong in the
paradoxical situation in which Phaedra is. The peculiarity of the heroine’s situation is
that her ‘affair,’ her attempt to restrain and, at the same time, conceal her passion can
appear dignified only for as long as she keeps silent about it; by telling about it she will
immediately reveal the secret of her sinful love and her reputation will suffer. It is
precisely for this reason that Phaedra makes every effort to conceal her love and is
ashamed of her dreams of getting into Hippolytus’ world which she has unwittingly
revealed (244), remains silent for sixty verses (250–310) and, contrary to her will,
interrupts her silence in verse 310, having heard the name of Hippolytus. Finally,
Phaedra quite definitely says that revealing the secret in her situation is evil: ‘To learn
the truth, poor woman, will be your doom!’ (327). Thus, the Nurse’s utterance οὔκουν
λέγουσα τιµιωτέρα φανῇ; in verse 332 is no more than a misapprehension caused by her
misunderstanding of Phaedra’s actual situation. This misapprehension is of the same
kind as the Nurse’s other wrong guesses – for example, that Phaedra is suffering from
a woman’s disease (293–4), that doctors should be called (295–6) or that the cause of
her malady is Theseus’ infidelities.
73 Kovacs reasonably objects to Dodds: ‘The supposed internal αἰδώς of 244 pretty
clearly refers to her [Phaedra’s] shame at uttering wild words in the presence of others.
Nothing, at any rate, noticeably “inner-directed” here, as there ought to be on Dodds’
view’ (Kovacs, 1980, 289).
74 Segal believes that by the phrase she said to the Nurse, χεῖρες µὲν ἁγναί, φρὴν δ᾽
ἔχει µίασµά τι ‘My hands are clean. It is my heart that’s stained’ (317), Phaedra
expresses her ‘aspiration towards an inner purity’ (Segal 1970, 281), i.e., that she utters
these words with an intonation of self-condemnation, not wishing to accept the stain
on her heart. Then he equates ‘inner purity’ with moral purity, understanding her
‘heart’ (φρήν) to mean Phaedra’s spiritual life, and even states that Phaedra had this
purity at the outset of the drama and subsequently lost it (‘Phaedra’s tragedy, however,
is that she does not maintain this inward “purity”’). This opinion, however, is based
on an erroneous identification of the ‘inner’ with the moral and an equally erroneous
notion of psychological and moral transformation allegedly experienced by the
heroine. From the very beginning, Phaedra’s character shows duality: the sinful
‘inner,’ i.e., the passion possessing her heart (φρήν), is countered by the virtuous ‘outer’
(χεῖρες) – her behavior. In uttering the words χεῖρες µὲν ἁγναί, φρὴν δ᾽ ἔχει µίασµά τι
‘My hands are clean. It is my heart that’s stained,’ Phaedra does not express the desire
to cleanse her heart, even if she does regret her inner sinfulness; the essence of the
heroine’s entire behavior, expressed by this phrase, consists in performing virtuous
actions in spite of this ‘inner’ sinfulness (cf. ἐκ τῶν γὰρ αἰσχρῶν ἐσθλὰ µηχανώµεθα ‘Out
183
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 184
Notes
of great shame I scheme to make great good,’ 331). The ‘inner’ (φρήν) is by no means
identical to the truly moral; on the contrary, it is the ‘outer,’ i.e., virtuous behavior
countering the stains on her heart, which turns out to be truly moral (ἐσθλά).
Incidentally, Segal also gives an impossible interpretation to the phrase ἐκ τῶν γὰρ
αἰσχρῶν ἐσθλὰ µηχανώµεθα, 331. Wishing to view in it an expression of concern for
inner purity, which, in his opinion, constitutes the essence of Phaedra’s behavior in the
first epeisodion, Segal understands ‘good’ (ἐσθλά) to mean inner morality (‘inward
ἐσθλά’) and ‘shame’ (αἰσχρά) to mean actions that are outwardly immoral, i.e.,
contradicting the generally accepted conventional morality. In Segal’s opinion, when
speaking about αἰσχρά, Phaedra means her future suicide. Segal describes the general
meaning of the phrase in the following way: ‘Phaedra’s initial aim was to preserve
true, inward ἐσθλά at the cost of appearing to do what was outwardly αἰσχρά (i.e. to die
a miserable death).’ The context in which this phrase is uttered, however, contradicts
this interpretation. In her preceding phrase Phaedra states that her behavior, the
essence of which she does not want to reveal, nevertheless brings her honor (τὸ µέντοι
πρᾶγµ᾽ ἐµοὶ τιµὴν φέρει, 329). The Nurse responds to these words with a surprised
question: κἄπειτα κρύπτεις χρήσθ᾽ ἱκνουµένης ἐµοῦ; ‘Why keep it hid, then, when what
I request of you is noble?’ (330). Then Phaedra utters the phrase: ἐκ τῶν γὰρ αἰσχρῶν
ἐσθλὰ µηχανώµεθα ‘I am contriving good out of the shameful things,’ which apparently
is to explain why she is concealing her situation or her actions, even though they are
to bring her honor. The reason is that it is her shameful plight, which is better passed
over in silence, that serves as material for these actions. Therefore, Phaedra can only
mean by ‘the shameful’ what she is concealing at the moment – i.e., the sinful feeling
staining her heart, but by no means her suicide (the possibility of the heroine’s death
is quite obvious to the Nurse from the very beginning of the dialogue; cf. verse 305:
εἰ θανῇ ‘if you die’).
75 Cf. 388–90: ‘Since these are the views I happen to have arrived at beforehand,
there is no drug could make me pervert them and reverse my opinion.’
76 Dodds 1925, 103.
77 Kovacs, 1980, 290.
78 Segal, 1970, 284–5.
79 Nurse (353): ‘Ah, what can you mean, my child? This is my death!’; Chorus
(362–3): ‘Have you marked, oh, have you heard, oh, the queen uttering woes past
hearing? Death take me, my friend, before I come to share your thoughts. Ah me!
Alas!’
80 There are a lot of passages, e.g., in Plato, where ἡδονή is paired with ἐπιθυµία; see
R. 328d, 430e, 431b, 431d etc., Grg. 484d, 491d, 497c etc., and many others. In Phlb.
34c ff. we find a detailed physical description of ἡδονή, in which ἡδονή and ἐπιθυµία
stand together.
81 Barrett 1964, 230, on 385–6.
82 See Sinclair 1925, 148.
83 Barrett 1964, 230, on 385–6.
84 Cf. Sinclair, loc. cit.: ‘feeling of inferiority that makes him hesitate to act on his
own initiative.’
85 On the strength of gods and the weakness of humans, see Chapter 5.
86 For an analysis of this passage, see Chapter 2. See also Barrett 1964, 253–6.
87 Barrett 1964, 399, on 1305.
184
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 185
Notes
88 Barrett 1964, 229, on 381–5.
89 Barrett 1964, 230, on 385–6.
90 The comparison of the passages from Medea and Hippolytus is all the more
justifiable as these tragedies are close in terms of the time of their creation and show
certain other parallels (see chapters 4 and 5).
91 Barrett 1964, 227–8, on 376 and 377–81.
92 Barrett 1964, 227, on 376.
93 The word ἁγνός is associated with αἰδώς throughout the entire drama; see Segal
1970.
94 Cairns 1993, 290, n. 88.
95 The most evident illustration of this practice is the dialogue Meno, where this
compositional and methodological model is used for analyzing the concept of virtue;
some of Plato’s dialogues such as Laches, Euthyphro, Lysis and Charmides demonstrate
the first, ‘aporetic’ stage of the analysis.
96 Cf. Plato Tht. 164c–d.
97 This contrast is sometimes explained as the contrast between the inner and the
outer αἰδώς and σωφροσύνη (Cairns 1993, 321, Gill 1990, 90). North (1966, 79–81)
noticed the contrast between the natural σωφροσύνη of Hippolytus and the acquired
σωφροσύνη of Phaedra, and rightly remarked that each of these forms of virtue is
shown as being defective and passing into ὕβρις. Thus, North proposed a subtitle for
Hippolytus expressing the drama’s meaning – The Sōphrōn Hybristēs.
98 In most of its uses, ὕβρις is opposite to αἰδώς: whereas αἰδώς implies the
fulfillment of social duties and presupposes respect for the social status of other people,
ὕβρις, on the contrary, consists in trampling social rules resulting from insufficient
attention to other people’s dignity. The presence in the notion of ὕβρις of two aspects,
namely, an excessive affirmation of one’s own τιµή and humiliation of other people’s
τιµή, was shown by Cairns (1996a), see also Cairns 1994. Cairns justly criticizes the
one-sided viewpoint of Fisher, who sees the essence of ὕβρις only in ‘the committing
of acts of intentional insult, of acts which deliberately inflict shame and dishonour on
others,’ i.e., only in actual deeds humiliating the dignity of others (Fisher 1992, 148,
see also his earlier articles, Fisher 1976, and Fisher 1979), and denies the signs of ὕβρις
in the conduct of Hippolytus in Hippolytus, as well as in the conduct of Ajax in Ajax.
99 Proceeding from the fact that Hippolytus’ conduct towards Artemis is described
in the text only by the expression µέγα φρονεῖν ‘“to think big,” to be presumptuous’
(6) and not by the word ὕβρις, which is entirely absent from the prologue, Fisher
believes that it cannot be characterized as ὕβρις (Fisher 1992, 416–17). The strict
separation of the notions ὕβρις and µέγα φρονεῖν is determined by the scholar’s desire
to limit the essence of ὕβρις to only one aspect, the impact of one’s deed on another
person, and to eliminate as much as possible the second aspect characterizing the state
of the subject of action. As Cairns (1996a) has shown, this limitation is ungrounded,
and ‘thinking big’ is in itself a sign of ὕβρις. In addition, Hippolytus’ conduct is not just
a form of his excessive self-assertion but it causes evident damage to the dignity of
Aphrodite, so it can be named ὕβρις even with the limited interpretation of this notion
that Fisher proposes. Cf. also the words of the Nurse, who describes ὕβρις against
Aphrodite as the desire to best the gods, which manifests itself in resisting love
(473–5; the Nurse thus explicitly identifies ὕβρις with arrogance and self-conceit):
185
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 186
Notes
ἀλλ᾽, ὦ φίλη παῖ, λῆγε µὲν κακῶν φρενῶν,
λῆξον δ᾽ ὑβρίζουσ᾽· οὐ γὰρ ἄλλο πλὴν ὕβρις
τάδ᾽ ἐστί, κρείσσω δαιµόνων εἶναι θέλειν·
So, my daughter, leave off these wicked thoughts, leave off this ὕβρις. It is ὕβρις,
nothing else, to try to best the gods.
Fisher rejects this parallel, believing that the Nurse resorts to a sophistic and unserious
argument (Fisher 1992, 414 ff.); Cairns, however, is right in that the Nurse’s sophistic
trick consists not in redefining ὕβρις as presumption but in paradoxically identifying
with presumption and ὕβρις an attempt to resist an illegitimate passion (Cairns 1996a,
15–6).
100 This psychological aspect of ὕβρις was particularly emphasized by MacDowell,
who arrives at defining ὕβρις as ‘having energy or power and misusing it self-
indulgently,’ see MacDowell 1976, 21. See also Michelini 1978.
101 With young age – Sophocles fr. 786, Euripides Supp. 232–5, Plato Laws 808d,
Euthd. 273a, Ap. 26e, Xenophon Lac. 3.2, Demosthenes 21.18; see MacDowell 1976,
15, Cairns 1996a, 25, n. 119. Both with young age and abundant consumption of
food – Od. 1.227, Plato Laws 835e, see also MacDowell 1976, 16, Cairns 1996a, 23 nn.
107, 108. With sporting pursuits – Od. 4.625–7, cf. also Herodotus 2.32.3 on tourists
from among the North African nobility who set out to explore the African desert;
see MacDowell 1976, 17–18.
102 The connection between ὕβρις and κόρος is a traditional topos of Greek poetry,
although the relations between the two are described differently by different authors.
‘Κόρος begets Ὕβρις,’ say Solon (fr. 6, West) and Theognis 153, whereas in Pindar
(O. 13.10) Ὕβρις is called the mother of Κόρος, just as in Herodotus 8.77 Κόρος is
called the son of Ὕβρις. In some of these fragments, κόρος may have a broader or
metaphorical meaning of abundance in general and not only satiety with food; there
is no doubt, however, that underlying the association between κόρος and ὕβρις is the
idea of abundant consumption of food. See MacDowell 1976, 168, Michelini 1978, 36
and n. 6 on Solon’s fr. 4 West, 8–10, where ὕβρις is related to κόρος and the concrete
meaning of this word is played upon, cf. also Pindar O. 1.55–6, where the connection
between κόρος and food is explicated (Cairns 1996a, 23). On the last two passages, see
also Fisher 1992, 70–3 and 240–2.
103 Cf. Euripides fr. 393 γνώµης γὰρ οὐδὲν ἁρετὴ µονουµένη ‘Virtue without the
conscious will is nothing.’
104 Plato Prt. 323c3–324d1. On the connection between virtue and upbringing,
teaching and knowledge, cf. also, e.g., Euripides Supp. 911–17, fr. 1027.
105 The Greek text and English translation of Antiphon are cited from Pendrick
2002.
106 Plato Smp. 196c, Phd. 68c, R. 389e.
107 Cf. Ba. 875–6.
108 In the Bacchae, the woods are shown to be the site of the Bacchic orgies (38), and
it is precisely the presence of the Bacchae in the woods that makes Pentheus think
about their loose behavior (688).
109 Barrett 1964, 157 on 15.
110 Ἀµαζόνος τόκος ‘son by the Amazon woman’ (10); µὰ τὴν ἄνασσαν ἱππίαν
Ἀµαζόνα, / ἣ σοῖς τέκνοισι δεσπότην ἐγείνατο / νόθον φρονοῦντα γνήσι’, οἶσθά νιν καλῶς, /
Ἱππόλυτον ‘I tell you in the name of that horse-riding Amazon queen who bore a
186
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 187
Notes
master to rule over your children, a bastard with ambitions of a legitimate son,
you know him well, Hippolytus’ (307–10); (Φα.) ὅστις ποθ᾽ οὗτός ἐσθ᾽, ὁ τῆς Ἀµαζόνος...
(Τρ.) Ἱππόλυτον αὐδᾷς; (Phaedra) ‘Son of the Amazon...’ (Nurse) ‘You mean
Hippolytus?’ (351–2); ὁ τῆς φιλίππου παῖς Ἀµαζόνος βοᾷ Ἱππόλυτος ‘It is Hippolytus,
son of the horse-loving Amazon, who shouts...’ (581–2). Cf. epithets of the Amazon,
ἄνασσα ἱππία ‘horse-riding queen’ (307) and φίλιππος ‘horse-loving’ (581), emphasizing
that Hippolytus inherited his love for horses and horse-riding – one of the forms of
veneration of Artemis – from his mother; in both these cases, the relation of
Hippolytus’ name to the epithets of his mother is played upon.
111 Cf. Hippolytus’ lines: χωρεῖτ᾽, ὀπαδοί, καὶ παρελθόντες δόµους / σίτων µέλεσθε·
τερπνὸν ἐκ κυναγίας / τράπεζα πλήρης ‘Go, servants, enter the house and prepare the
meal. After the hunt a full table is a pleasure’ (108–10), and, on the other hand, the
Chorus’ words about Phaedra: τριτάταν δέ νιν κλύω / τάνδ᾽ ἀβρωσίᾳ / στόµατος ἁµέραν /
∆άµατρος ἀκτᾶς δέµας ἁγνὸν ἴσχειν ‘And I hear that for three days now her mouth
taking no food, she has kept her body pure of Demeter’s grain’ (135–8).
112 There were two main versions of the myth about Ariadne and Theseus. In both
versions, Ariadne helped Theseus to find his way out of the Labyrinth and eloped
from Crete together with him, having sailed to the island of Dia (identified with
Naxos); in both these versions, she was the bride of Dionysus. However, whereas
according to the one version Theseus abandoned her on Dia and Dionysus appeared
only after that and chose her as his bride, under the other version Ariadne had
been Dionysus’ bride on Crete (cf. Epimenides fr. 3B25 DK), and was put to death
by Artemis on Dia for her elopement with Theseus from her bridegroom (Odyssey
11.321–5). Euripides follows the latter version, representing Ariadne’s love as sinful
and likening Phaedra’s passion for Hippolytus to it. Cf. Barrett 1964, 222–3, on 339.
113 We find the φύσις/γνώµη antithesis, which is a variety of the opposition of nature
and law, more than once in Euripides’ texts; cf., e.g., fr. 840 (Chrysippus): λέληθεν οὐδὲν
τῶνδέ µ᾽ ὧν σὺ νουθετεῖς, / γνώµην δ᾽ ἔχοντά µ᾽ ἡ φύσις βιάζεται ‘None of this advice you
are giving me has escaped me, yet though I am mindful of it, nature compels me.’
Cf. the γνώµη/passion antithesis in fr. 718 (Telephus): ὥρα σε θυµοῦ κρείσσονα γνώµην
ἔχειν ‘It is time for you to have γνώµη stronger than your passion’.
A similar antithesis occupies a substantial place in the psychological reasoning of
Thucydides, who more than once explicitly contradistinguished γνώµη from instinctive
impulses, which he denoted by the word ὀργή. Although φύσις is used in his language
in a broader sense as the basis of human behavior in general and therefore includes
not only ὀργή but also γνώµη, the idea of pre-eminent connection of φύσις with ὀργή
nevertheless influenced his psychological conceptions (cf. specifically 3.84.2). On the
psychology of Thucydides, see Shorey 1893, Reeve 1999, Luginbill 2006, 26 ff., Huart
1968. Specifically on the notion of γνώµη, see Huart, 1973.
114 See fr. 393 cited in note 103.
115 See also Llewellyn-Jones 2003, 163–4.
116 Concerning this antithesis and its different varieties (word/deed, to appear/to
be), see Heinimann 1945, 43–58.
117 Cf. also the above-cited words of Phaedra: παρ᾽ οἷσι µήποτ’ ὀφθείην ἐγώ ‘In their
[i.e., base people] number may I never be seen!’ (430), which can also be understood
in two ways – both as a desire actually not to become an adulteress and as a desire not
to be noticed committing adultery. Such ambivalence is also found further on, in the
187
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 188
Notes
lines uttered by Phaedra in the second epeisodion, at the moment when she makes the
decision both to commit suicide and to slander Hippolytus (719–21): οὐ γάρ ποτ᾽
αἰσχυνῶ γε Κρησίους δόµους / οὐδ᾽ ἐς πρόσωπον Θησέως ἀφίξοµαι / αἰσχροῖς ἐπ᾽ ἔργοις
οὕνεκα ψυχῆς µιᾶς ‘For I shall never disgrace my Cretan home nor shall I go to face
Theseus with shameful deeds if only one life stands in the way’. Depending on which
part of the phrase is emphasized, it can be understood both as an expression of
reluctance to perform shameful deeds and an expression of fear of facing her husband
after committing a shameful deed.
118 Cf. 465–6: ἐν σοφοῖσι γὰρ / τάδ᾽ ἐστὶ θνητῶν, λανθάνειν τὰ µὴ καλά ‘This is one of
the wise principles mortals follow – dishonourable deeds should escape notice’. See
also 403–4.
119 The association between ‘nature’ (φύσις) and ‘reality’ (ἀλήθεια) was quite
common; see Heinimann 1945, 42 ff.
120 The difference between Hippolytus’ moral views and the views expressed by
the Nurse is that his ideal, just as Phaedra’s ideal, consists in virtue, whereas the Nurse
links good with practical usefulness; both of them, however, unlike Phaedra, proceed
from considerations of nature in their views.
121 As a matter of fact, the two interlocutors’ common appeal to the antithesis of
words and deeds accompanied by their opposite assessment of the situation is
reminiscent of Phaedra’s dialogue with the Nurse in the first stasimon, which creates
a certain symmetry between these two scenes.
122 This theme – the need for an outer sign that would show the true character of
a person – was a topos in Euripides (cf. Med. 516 ff.); cf. also the Attic skolion 6 D.
cited by Athenaeus 694 d–e; see Barrett 1964, 340, on 925–7.
123 The reality of Phaedra’s dead body, which is present on the stage at the moment,
makes Theseus consider the content of her letter to be a reality as well; concerning this
in more detail, see Chapter 2.
124 Cf. also Hippolytus’ words conveyed by the Messenger in the fourth epeisodion:
Ζεῦ, µηκέτ᾽ εἴην, εἰ κακὸς πέφυκ᾽ ἀνήρ ‘O Zeus, may I no longer live if I am base by my
nature!’ (1191).
125 Some scholars speak about a shift in the audience’s sympathies that gradually
turn towards Hippolytus, see Vickers 1973, 294, Cairns 1993, 319, n. 262.
126 Tr. Kerferd (1981, 113).
127 Linforth 1914, Segal 1965.
128 Dodds 1925, Segal 1965, 119.
129 Greenwood 1953, 32–58.
130 Lloyd-Jones 1983, 144–55, Lefkowitz 1989.
131 On similarity between the two episodes, see also Taplin 1978, 136.
132 See Chapter 3. Cf. also similar fantastic wishes of Medea (Med. 516 ff.) and
Theseus (Hipp. 925 ff.) that there should be some mark on the human body by which
one could identify base men, and similar wishes, voiced by Jason and Hippolytus, that
men could get children without women. In addition, Medea’s monologue on the
sufferings of women and Hippolytus’ monologue on their wickedness, built in a
similar way, echo each other, proving two opposite points – an example of the practice
of reasoning in utramque partem, widespread in sophistic circles. It is interesting to note
that these two monologues cite the same fact (the bride pays the bridegroom a dowry),
which is sophistically used for proving opposite ideas.
188
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 189
Notes
133 Reckforth 1968, 357 ff., Segal 1996, 19 and n. 16.
134 Cunningham 1954, 156.
135 On the destruction of φιλία and manipulation of φιλία in Medea, see Schein 1990.
136 See Segal 1996, 20 ff.
137 On this motif in Euripides see chapter 6.
138 In Hippolytus, the symmetry of the main, ‘human’ part of the action is supple-
mented by symmetry of divine characters in the prologue and the exodos. Aphrodite
and Artemis create the same dual relations of analogy and contrast as the other
elements of the symmetrical structure of the tragedy. Concerning the similarity existing
between the two goddesses despite their complete opposition, see Knox 1979, 226 f.
139 See Mastronarde 2002, 13. On Medea as a revenge tragedy, see Burnett 1973.
140 Cf. Dodds 1960, xlvi on Euripides’ revenge tragedies: ‘In his revenge plays –
Medea, Hecuba, Electra – the spectator’s sympathy is first enlisted for the avenger and
then made to extend to the avenger’s victims. The Bacchae is constructed on the same
principle.’
141 On the motif of revenge in this passage, see Halleran 1995, ad loc., and Luschnig
1988, 108, who rightly compares the tone of this phrase to the tone and content of the
words uttered by Aphrodite in the prologue.
142 For more detail about these topics, see Cairns 2011.
143 Cf. Pindar fr. 123.2–6, 10–12 Snell-Maehler, Sappho fr. 31.7–8 LP.
144 On the image of sexual violence applied to both main characters of Hippolytus
and metonymically expressing misfortune and death in general, see Chapter 6.
145 Aphrodite is certainly the main culprit of the tragedy; however, taking part in it
are also Artemis and Poseidon: Artemis did not save her favorite, Hippolytus, and
easily parted with him in the finale (1441), while Poseidon fulfilled Theseus’ curse,
which destroyed Hippolytus. As David Konstan pointed out to me, later on Cicero
reasoned about the guilt of Poseidon, who should not have fulfilled the promise he
gave to Theseus; see De officiis 3.25.94 and De natura deorum 3.31.76.
146 See Barrett 1964, 177, on 99.
147 I cannot agree with the view of Luschnig who believes ‘that in action and in
character the human actors are like their gods <...>, and that they impose upon
themselves and each other an isolation which is very close to the gods’ aloofness and
anti-social existence’ (Luschnig 1980, 89). This may be so, but only before the finale.
The forgiveness of Theseus by Hippolytus in the finale, symmetrical to and contrasting
with Aphrodite’s reluctance to forgive Hippolytus in the prologue, clearly shows a
fundamentally different behavior of humans compared with that of gods.
148 See Barrett 1964, 412 on 1416–22.
149 Here the Nurse regrets the insufficient wisdom of the majority of people,
blinded by the splendor of life here. Kovacs is certainly not right to believe that the
Nurse expressed her own doubts about the existence of another world and another
life after death; according to his erroneous opinion, it is a manifestation of this
character’s down-to earth way of thinking: ‘Goods that cannot be seen had better not
be relied on’. See Kovacs 1987, 39–40.
150 Lefkowitz 1989, 78.
151 See a formulation of this archaic representation in Lloyd-Jones 1983, 59.
152 This contrast determines the meaning of entire episodes of the Homeric poems.
For example, the story of love of Ares and Artemis with its comical finale, told by the
189
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 190
Notes
minstrel Demodocus in the 8th song of the Odyssey, throws into relief a tragic adultery
in the human world – the events in the house of Agamemnon and the proposals of
suitors to Penelope. Similarly, the quickly-healing wounds suffered by Aphrodite and
Ares in the 5th song of the Odyssey contrast with the sufferings and death of Achaean
and Trojan warriors.
153 The phrase θεοὶ ῥεῖα ζῶντες ‘gods that live at ease’ is found in the Homeric
poems three times; twice it describes gods killing mortals for violation by them of the
prescribed limits: Il. 6.138, Lycurgus, and Od. 5.122, Orion fall their victims. See
Griffin 1980, 19.
154 See Lefkowitz 1989, 78.
155 See, e.g., Knox 1961, 6, Bowra 1944, 35.
156 On the condemnation of revenge and punishment which take no account of
mitigating circumstances, and on the attitude towards vengeful gods in Euripides’
tragedies (in particular, in Hippolytus and Andromache), see Saïd 1978, 235.
157 See Cunningham 1954, 159, Schein 1990, 62.
158 Lloyd-Jones 1983, 152–3.
159 Cf. Lloyd-Jones 1983, 128: ‘δίκη means not only “justice,” but “the order of the
universe,” and from the human point of view that order often seems to impose a
natural rather than a moral law.’
160 It is interesting in this respect to compare Hippolytus, affirming autonomous
human morality and contrasting moral principles with gods’ actions, with Plato,
who derives ethical norms from nature and declares assimilation to God to be his
main ideal.
161 Segal 1965, see also Padel 1974, Parry, H. 1966.
162 Segal 1969, 1–2, Parry, A. 1989.
163 Cf. verses 3–4, where the sea outlines the limits of human existence (ὅσοι τε
Πόντου τερµόνων τ’ Ἀτλαντικῶν / ναίουσιν εἴσω ‘all those who dwell between the Euxine
Sea and the bounds of Atlas’), and the concluding words of the drama, in which the
Chorus likens the weeping for perished Hippolytus to a plashing of oars (πολλῶν
δακρύων ἔσται πίτυλος ‘The plash of many tears will come again and again,’ 1464); see
Segal 1965, 155.
164 Segal 1965, 118.
165 Segal 1965, 117 and 149.
166 Cf. ‘storm’ (χειµών) of disaster, Aeschylus Ch. 202, Pr. 1015; ‘wave’ of troubles:
κῦµα, Euripides Ion 927; κλύδων, Sophocles OT 1527, Euripides Med. 362; τρικυµία,
Aeschylus Pr. 1015. See Lesky 1947, 228.
167 The application to death of the image of a safe haven corresponds to the positive
evaluation of death repeatedly found in Hippolytus; for more about this, see Chapter 5.
168 About this phrase, see Segal 1965, 134, Graham 1947, 275.
169 Segal 1965, 133.
170 For more about this echoing, see Segal 1965, 135–6.
171 Segal 1965, 143.
172 J.M. Trappes-Lomax has suggested reading the corrupted verses 840–1 (†τίνος
κλύω† πόθεν θανάσιµος τύχα, / γύναι, σὰν ἔβα, τάλαινα, κραδίαν;) as τίς ὁ κλύδων πόθεν
θανασίµου τύχας, which implies the same image of the sea of troubles.
173 The motif of wandering was very common in Greek literature since the earliest
time and had a very wide range of connotations. Apparently, beginning from the
190
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 191
Notes
Odyssey it was wandering on the sea that was the principal model of wandering (see
Montiglio 2005), so wandering on land may be regarded as an expansion of the motif
of sea wandering. Concerning the scenic expression of the motif of wandering in
Hippolytus, see Chapter 7. In addition to the direct meaning, the concept of ‘wandering’
is more than once used in Hippolytus in its traditional metaphoric meaning, denoting
mental and spiritual unbalance, which, naturally, just as in its literal usage, is linked with
suffering. Phaedra, struck down with passion, ‘wanders’ (φοιτᾷς, 144) in the sense of
being overtaken by an erotic obsession. Then her passion finds a way out in mad
dreams about being transferred into Hippolytus’ world (208 ff.); this madness is also
described as ‘wandering’: ποῖ παρεπλάγχθην γνώµης ἀγαθῆς; ‘Where have I wandered
from the path of good sense?’ (240), Phaedra says, coming to her senses. Curiously
enough, the content of Phaedra’s dreams taking the heroine into the world of her
beloved is also a kind of wandering – in the literal sense, even though made by the
heroine in her imagination; so the figurative meaning coexists in this situation with the
literal one.
174 Cf. also 897–8: ἢ τῆσδε χώρας ἐκπεσὼν ἀλώµενος / ξένην ἐπ᾽ αἶαν λυπρὸν ἀντλήσει
βίον ‘or being banished from here he will wander over foreign soil and draw a life of
misery.’ The verb ἀντλεῖν, used in both passages, metaphorically describes Hippolytus’
wandering as a voyage on board a ship flooded with water (cf. a similar image applied
to Phaedra in verse 769) and thus brings together the hero’s movements over land and
his voyage on the sea. Similarly, the likening of the crash of Hippolytus’ chariot to a
shipwreck in verses 1220–7 gives the same ‘nautical’ meaning to his wandering.
175 Cf. also the motif of a ship taking women away to misery and sufferings, which
is found more than once in Euripides. This motif plays a major role in The Trojan
Women. It sounds, for example, in Hecuba’s monody concluding the prologue, verses
98–152, see Barlow 1986, 162, on 98–152, and also in the last verse of the tragedy –
in the words of the Chorus accepting the sad fate that awaits them (1331–2).
176 The choice of a different moment in Hippolytus is apparently related to the
significance here of the image of the mooring-cable, about which see above.
177 True, the departure of Hippolytus into exile, unlike Phaedra’s sailing from her
home, is not the cause but a manifestation of misfortune; however, the very existence
of a connection between his wandering away from home and his misfortune is more
important than these details.
178 In Attica, a year-long exile served as a punishment in the event of an unintentional
killing (Lipsius 1905, 611 n. 42; cf. Plato, Laws, 865a–869e); strictly speaking, Theseus’
action could be even categorized not as an unintentional but as a justifiable killing
(see Barrett 1964, 163, on 34–7): Theseus killed the sons of Pallas, his own cousins,
when they went to war, trying to prevent him from inheriting the Athenian throne
from Aegeus.
179 About the nautical connotation of the expression εὐπρόσοιστος ἔκβασις, see
Mastronarde 2002, 219, on 279: ‘ἐκβαίνειν is often “disembark” and ἔκβασις “landing-
place,” and εὐπρόσοιστος “easily accessible,” may call to mind, among the many
meanings of προσφέρειν and προσφέρεσθαι, “put into harbor” (Xen. Cyr. 5.4.6).’
180 Mastronarde 2002, 35.
181 This refers to the Symplegades (Clashing Rocks), a mythological pair of rocks
which, beginning from the archaic period, were identified with the shores of the
Bosporus. On their role in Iphigenia see below.
191
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 192
Notes
182 Additional echoing between the two stasima is created with the repetitive motif
of music accompanying the progress of the ships – the metaphoric music in the first
stasimon (συριζόντων κατὰ πρύµναν / εὐναίων πηδαλίων ‘the guiding rudder whistling
under the stern,’ 431–2), is echoed by the sounds of the actual pipe of Pan giving the
rhythm to the ship’s oars in the second stasimon (1125–7); the singing of dancing
Nereids in the first stasimon (ὅπου πεντήκοντα κορᾶν / Νηρῄδων...χοροὶ / µέλπουσιν
ἐγκύκλιοι ‘Where the fifty daughters of Nereus dance and sing in circles,’ 427–9) is
echoed by the singing of Apollo, accompanying himself on his lyre, in the second
stasimon (1128–31).
183 See 1039–48, where all other methods of escape – for example, in a chariot or
at the cost of killing King Theoclymenos – are discussed and successively rejected. In
a perfectly similar way, various means of escape except one, an escape by the sea, are
discussed and rejected in Iphigenia in Tauris (876 ff., 1017 ff.).
184 About the change in the role of the sea, see Segal 1971, 598–9. In his opinion,
whereas at the beginning ‘the sea signifies separation, wandering and death,’ in the
second half it ‘becomes the literal means of recovering all that was lost and of passing
from death to life.’
185 Concerning the reversal in the assessment of delusion in Helen, see Segal 1971,
596.
186 The connection between sea wandering and active participation in deception
goes back to the Odyssey; see Montiglio 2005, 91–8.
187 See chapter 7.
188 Montiglio 2005, 8–29.
189 Oedipus denies his guilt (270), pleading ignorance, and at the same time resorts
to the image of wandering: νῦν δ᾽ οὐδὲν εἰδὼς ἱκόµην ἵν᾽ ἱκόµην ‘But, as it was, all
unknowing I went where I went’ (273).
190 As Montiglio noted (Montiglio 2005, 29 n. 20), the verb ἄγειν (to lead) is
repeatedly applied to Oedipus either in the passive voice or in the active with Oedipus
as the object, and this word equally describes both his past fate (the gods lead Oedipus
along the path of his life full of misfortunes, 205; Oedipus cannot be accused, since
the gods led him into his transgressions, 253 and 998) and his present wandering (the
blind Oedipus is led by Antigone, 348 and 502). It is also worthy of note that when,
with the approach of his death Oedipus acquires an ability to influence things
happening in the world, turning from a passive victim into an active agent, this
metamorphosis is symbolically expressed by a miraculous cessation of his blind
wandering: now he himself, without a guide (ἄθικτος ἡγητῆρος, 1521), leads Theseus
to the place where he is destined to die.
191 The Lagoon – Limna (Λίµνη), a large salt lake near Troizen separated from the
sea by a narrow coastal strip.
192 Segal 1965, 127.
193 According to the myth, a certain hunter Saron, who venerated her, built a temple
by the sea for the goddess. One day Saron chased a deer into the sea and, plunging in
after the beast, was drowned, after which he was buried in a sacred grove of Artemis
and the sea was named the Saronic Bay (Pausanias 2.30.7; the myth of Hippolytus in
general repeats the story of Saron). Apparently, this myth was to explain the unusual
association of Artemis with the sea. In Hippolytus, Artemis is associated not with the
sea in general but with the sea in the vicinity of Troizen – with the Saronic Bay and
192
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 193
Notes
Limna; it is therefore apparent that it is the Saronic Artemis that Euripides has
in mind.
194 Montiglio 2005, 84 n. 63.
195 About bringing Artemis and Aphrodite closer together through the common
image of a bee, see Knox 1979, 226.
196 See Chapter 7.
197 According to the hypothesis put forward by Parry (Parry, H. 1966), the western
boundary marks the barrier separating the living from the dead. This hypothesis is
based on several considerations: (1) the wish for escape in tragedies is often identical
to the wish for death perceived as the only possible way to escape from bitter reality;
(2) the gardens of the Hesperides – the paradise beyond this world, depicted by
Euripides – were probably also associated with the other world (see also Fontenrose
1959, 346); (3) in the composition of the second stasimon itself, the Chorus’ imaginary
flight is compared to Phaedra’s sailing dedicated in the second strophic pair; this sailing
ends in death. However, the text of the tragedy gives us no direct reason to link the
gardens of the Hesperides to the realm of the dead, and the comparison of the Chorus’
flight with Phaedra’s sailing reveals a contrast rather than similarity between them.
Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that death is to man a kind of analogue of
the divine paradise; it is the only way available to humans to go beyond the limits of
their existence, since the other way, the way into the divine paradise, is closed
to them.
198 See note 181.
199 ἀπέραντον codd.: ἀπεράντου Diggle (following Milton).
200 Cf. Cropp 2000, 183, on 124–5: ‘The Rocks make a symbolic frontier between
the civilized Greek world and the world beyond and are here actually identified by
synecdoche with the Black Sea area and its dangers.’
201 Bremer 1975.
202 See the analysis of this fragment in Davies 1986, 399–402.
203 Bremer 1975, 272.
204 See also Trumpf 1960.
205 Bremer 1975, 269.
206 Bremer 1975, 277.
207 Cairns 1993, 316; see also Cairns 1997.
208 Calame 1999, 16 ff.
209 Bremer considers these instances of the locus amoenus as well (Bremer 1975,
273–4), but he does not separate them from examples of a different type such as
Ibycus’ garden.
210 Segal 1969, 34.
211 Commentators have mentioned more than once that here the image of
Hippolytus is built on the model of Persephone; see Foley 1985, 87, Zeitlin 1996,
234 ff., Goff 1990, 58.
212 Among later examples of this topos, cf., in particular, Moschus, Europa 63 ff.;
see commentary in Bühler 1960, 75 and 108 ff.
213 Bremer 1975, 278; cf. Dodds 1925, 102, Knox 1979, 208, Segal 1965, 124.
214 The motif of a horse in harness in Hippolytus was noted, for example, by Bushala
1969, and Reckford 1972, 415–27.
215 Cairns 1993, 316–18, Segal 1970, 293, Devereux 1985, 19–32.
193
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 194
Notes
216 These words are often understood as suggesting an image of a horse steered by
the goddess, who forces her to stray from the right way: this is the view we find in the
scholia, see also Brenk 1986. On the difficulty about this interpretation see Barrett
1964, 206, on 236–8.
217 See Chapters 2 and 5.
218 In general, it was typical of Euripides to vary the designations of the subject
and object in love relationships depending on the specific evaluative meaning that he
needed to convey. In the above-cited passage from Cyclops (68–72), satyrs, telling in a
positive tone about their love games with Bacchants, use a more unexpected image of
jointly pursuing Aphrodite instead of the habitual image of pursuing Bacchants; thus,
Bacchants and Nymphs turn from victims of their violence into their allies, see
Nikolsky 2009, 128–9. Similarly, in the passage from Hippolytus being examined,
Heracles turns from the culprit of violence over Iole into yet another victim of
Aphrodite, the same as Iole herself.
219 Horse imagery frames the tragedy: at the beginning and conclusion of the drama
there appears the motif of Hippolytus’ horses. At the beginning, Hippolytus harnesses
his horses, doing this in a situation where his ὕβρις, manifesting itself both in his
passion for sports and in his indulgence in food, and in his attacks on Aphrodite, is
particularly evident (110–3, see Chapter 4). When, however, Hippolytus becomes a
victim, this image is reversed, and Hippolytus himself gets harnessed by his horses.
Thus, the role of Hippolytus changes from an active to a passive one, which
corresponds to a reversal in the audience’s attitude towards him, on which see
Chapter 4. The significance of the image of horses is emphasized by the very name of
Hippolytus, the first part of which means ‘horses’ and the second, ‘to unbind, to
unbridle’. The etymological play upon the name of Hippolytus changing its meaning
from an active to a passive one in the course of the drama, is quite convincingly
explained by Zeitlin 1996, 225: ‘he turns from the “one who binds (or yokes, 111,
1183) and looses horses” to one...whose body is “loosened by horses”.’ On the
etymology of the name of Hippolytus, see also Fauth 1959, 428–30, Segal 1965, 147
n. 48, and 166.
220 Bremer 1975, 269.
221 Wiles 1999. See also a study of space in Greek theater by Rehm 2002.
222 Ubersfeld 1977 and 1981.
223 The importance of verbal text for filling the scenic space with meanings was
emphasized in Edmunds 1996. On uniform theater space in Euripides’ dramas
expressed both visually and verbally, see Saïd 1989, 135.
224 In using these terms, I mostly follow the school of semiotic theater studies going
back to Ubersfeld. I understand the scenic space to mean the sum total of architectural
elements in which the actors and the Chorus performed with the general meanings
constantly given them in theater performances (for example, the meaning of the world
of gods given to the upper level, the world of humans to the orchēstra level, and the
kingdom of the dead to the underground level). The dramatic space is formed by a
system of meanings that these elements acquire in a particular play. Finally, I understand
the diegetic space to mean space expressed solely verbally – in a narrative about events
outside the time frame of the play and in relating myths.
225 Here I offer the most general description of the theater setup without touching
disputable points that are not essential for the analysis of Hippolytus – such as, for
194
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 195
Notes
example, whether the actors performed together with the Chorus directly on the
orchēstra or separately from the Chorus on an elevated proskēnion (concerning this
unsettled point, see Taplin 1977, 442).
226 Another way to conceal a secret malady is by wearing a veil on the head. The
image of the veil turns out to be similar to the image of the house. The analogy
between them will continue to hold. For example, the revelation of Phaedra’s secret
will begin with her going out of the house (176–8) and taking the veil off her head
(probably, in verse 201; cf. verse 245, where she will ask once again to cover her face
with a veil).
227 Cf. Aeschylus’ Agamemnon, where the house is associated with Clytemnestra’s
adultery and her intrigues against her husband.
228 On the contrast between Hippolytus’ space and Phaedra’s space, see Saïd 1989,
134.
229 Wiles 1999, 79–80.
230 About this significant lack of communication between Phaedra and Hippolytus
even at the moment when both of them at the same time find themselves on the stage,
see Taplin 1978, 191 n. 7. Some commentators (see Smith 1960, Østerud 1970, Saïd
1989, 133), refusing to recognize this powerful stage technique, unreasonably believe
that Phaedra should be off-stage between verses 600 and 680, which would have
resulted in hasty and chaotic movements of the characters.
231 Despite the objections of certain scholars, the allusions in paratragic passages
in Aristophanes’ Acharnians and Thesmophoriazusae leave no doubt that the eccyclēma
already existed and was used in the 5th century BC. See Taplin 1977, 442.
232 See Hourmouziades 1965, 132, although on the whole a different reconstruction
of movements through the eisodoi is suggested here.
233 Late classical evidence about the meaning of the eisodoi (Vitruvius 5.6, Pollux
4.126) has so far not been given an unambiguous and final interpretation. Nonetheless,
it clearly points to a contrast between the exit leading to the city (or to the seaside
harbor) and the exit leading abroad (and, probably, out to the country). Although the
meanings set by Pollux are by no means always literally applicable to classical dramas
(see Rees 1911, 378 ff.), the two eisodoi might well be used for creating spatial contrasts
and analogies; see Taplin 1977, 450–1. In Euripides himself, in the Bacchae, the two
eisodoi express a contrast between the world of the wild and the civilized polis and in
the Cyclops, a contrast between the world of the wild and a seaside harbor related to
human civilization, so they have meanings similar to those found in Hippolytus.
234 Wiles (1999, 126–8) believes that Hippolytus entered the orchēstra in the prologue
through the left eisodos and exited it in the third epeisodion through the right eisodos,
which was later on associated with the way to the seaside. Even if we accept the later
meanings of the two eisodoi for the period of Euripides, it should be noted that the right
eisodos acquired its meaning of the way to the seaside only in case where the talk was
about a sea voyage. In that case, the right eisodos led to the seaport, which was part of
the city, and thus retained its usual meaning of the exit leading to the city. Although
Hippolytus, when going into exile, makes his way along the seashore, he walks on
dry land.
235 Convincing arguments in favor of such an appearance of Artemis are offered by
Barrett (1964, 395–6, on 1283). In particular, this alone can explain the fact that she
is invisible to Hippolytus in 1391 ff. Cf. also similar epiphanies in Sophocles Ph. 1409
195
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 196
Notes
and in Euripides Andr. 1226, Supp. 1183, HF 815, Ion 1549, El. 1233, IT 1435, Hel.
1642, and Or. 1625.
236 As a matter of fact, we have examples of the appearance of gods on the upper
level in the prologue. Probably, Athena in Sophocles’ Ajax was on the upper level,
since she was invisible to Odysseus (cf. Aj. 15). Therefore, the appearance of
Aphrodite on the roof of the skēnē cannot be ruled out, the more so as this position
of Aphrodite would introduce an additional visual element in the overall symmetry of
the prologue and exodos.
237 Wiles 1999, 181.
238 Mastronarde 1990, 280.
196
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 197
BIBLIOGRAPHY
The Greek text of Hippolytus is cited from the edition of W.S. Barrett (1964); for other
Euripidean tragedies, the edition of J. Diggle (1981–1994) was used.
Allan, W.
2000 The Andromache and Euripidean Tragedy, Oxford.
Avery, H.C.
1968 ‘My Tongue Swore but My Mind is Unsworn,’ TAPA 99, 19–35.
Barlow, S.A. (ed.)
1986 Euripides Trojan Women, Warminster.
Barrett W.S. (ed.)
1964 Euripides Hippolytus, Oxford.
Blomqvist, J.
1982 ‘Human and Divine Action in Euripides’ Hippolytus,’ Hermes 110, 398–414.
Bowra, C.M.
1944 Sophoclean Tragedy, Oxford.
Bremer, J.M.
1975 ‘The Meadow of Love and Two Passages in Euripides’ Hippolytus,’
Mnemosyne 28, 268–80.
Brenk, F.E.
1986 ‘Phaidra’s Risky Horseman: Euripides’ Hippolytus 232–38,’ Mnemosyne 39,
385–8.
Bühler, W. (ed.)
1960 Die Europa des Moschos, Wiesbaden.
Burnett, A.P.
1973 ‘Medea and the Tragedy of Revenge,’ CP 68, 1–24.
Bushala, E.
1969 ‘Συζύγιαι Χάριτες: Hippolytus 1147,’ TAPA 100, 23–9.
Cairns, D.E.
1993 Aidos: The Psychology and Ethics of Honour and Shame in Ancient Greek Literature,
Oxford.
1994 Review: Fisher 1992, CR 44, 76–9.
1996a ‘Hybris, Dishonour, and Thinking Big,’ JHS 116, 1–32.
1996b ‘Veiling, Aidos, and a Red-figure Amphora by Phintias’, JHS 116, 152–7.
1997 ‘The Meadow of Artemis and the Character of the Euripidean Hippolytus,’
QUCC, N.S. 57, 51–75.
2011 ‘Looks of Love and Loathing: Cultural Models of Vision and Emotion in
Ancient Greek Culture,’ Metis 9, 37–50.
Calame, C.
1999 The Poetics of Eros in Ancient Greece, tr. J. Lloyd, Princeton.
Claus, D.
1972 ‘Phaedra and the Socratic Paradox,’ YCS 22, 223–38.
Coleridge E.P. (tr.)
1891 The Plays of Euripides, London, vol. 1.
197
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 198
Bibliography
Craik, E.M.
1993 ‘AIDOS in Euripides’ Hippolytos 373–430: Review and Interpretation,’ JHS
113 , 45–59.
Cropp, M.J. (ed.)
2000 Euripides Iphigenia in Tauris, Warminster.
Cunningham, M.
1954 ‘Medea ἀπὸ µηχανῆς,’ CP 49, 151–60.
Davies, M.
1986 ‘Symbolism and Imagery in the Poetry of Ibycus,’ Hermes 114, 399–405.
De Romilly, J., see: Romilly, J. de
Devereux, G.
1985 The Character of the Euripidean Hippolytus: An Ethno-Psychoanalytical Study,
Chico.
Diggle, J.
1981–94 (ed.) Euripides Fabulae 3 vols., Oxford.
1989 Review: Euripides and the Tragic Tradition by A. N. Michelini, The Heroic Muse:
Studies in the Hippolytus and Hecuba of Euripides by D. Kovacs, AJP 110,
360–2.
Dodds, E.R.
1925 ‘The ΑΙ∆ΩΣ of Phaedra and the Meaning of Hippolytus,’ CR 39, 102–104.
1951 The Greeks and the Irrational, Berkeley.
Dodds, E.R. (ed.)
1960 Euripides Bacchae, Oxford
Edmunds, L.
1996 Theatrical Space and Historical Place in Sophocles’ Oedipus at Colonus, Lanham.
Fauth, W.
1959 Hippolytus und Phaidra: Bemerkungen zu religiösen Hintergrund eines tragischen
Konflikts, Bd. 2, Mainz.
Festugière, A.-J.
1954 Personal Religion among the Greeks, Berkeley.
Fisher, N.R.E.
1976 ‘Hybris and Dishonour: I,’ G&R 23, 177–93.
1979 ‘Hybris and Dishonour: II,’ G&R 26, 32–47.
1992 Hybris: A Study in the Values of Honour and Shame in Ancient Greece,
Warminster.
Foley, H.
1985 Ritual Irony: Poetry and Sacrifice in Euripides, Ithaca and London.
Fontenrose, J.E.
1959 Python: A Study of Delphic Myth and Its Origins, Berkeley.
Gill, C.
1990 ‘The Articulation of the Self in Euripides’ Hippolytus,’ in A. Powell (ed.),
Euripides, Women and Sexuality, London, New York, 76–107.
Goff, B.
1990 The Noose of Words: Readings of Desire, Violence and Language in Euripides’
Hippolytus, Cambridge.
Graham, H.F.
1947 ‘The Escape-Ode in Hippolytus,’ CJ 42, 275–276.
198
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 199
Bibliography
Greenwood, L.H.G.
1953 Aspects of Euripidean Tragedy, Cambridge.
Grene, D.
1939 ‘The Interpretation of the Hippolytus of Euripides,’ CP 34, 45–58.
Griffin, J.
1980 Homer on Life and Death, Oxford.
Grube, G.M.A.
1961 The Drama of Euripides, 2nd ed., New York.
Halleran, M.R. (ed.)
1995 Euripides Hippolytus, Warminster.
Hathorn, Y.
1957 ‘Rationalism and Irrationalism in Euripides’ Hippolytus,’ CJ 52, 211–18.
Heinimann, F.
1945 Nomos and Physis, Basel.
Holzhausen, J.
1995 Eros und Aidos in Phaidras Monolog, Mainz.
Hourmouziades, N.C.
1965 Production and Imagination in Euripides: Form and Function of the Scenic Space, Athens.
Huart, P.
1968 Le vocabulaire de l’analyse psychologique dans l’œuvre de Thucydide, Paris.
1973 GNOME chez Thucydide et ses contemporains, Paris.
Innes, D.
2006 ‘Gorgias, Helen 13,’ Studia Graeca Uppsaliensia 21, 129–39.
Irwin, T.H.
1983 ‘Euripides and Socrates’ CP 78, 183–97.
Kerferd, G.B.
1981 The Sophistic Movement, Cambridge.
Knox, B.M.W.
1961 ‘The Ajax of Sophocles,’ HSCP 65, 1–37.
1979 ‘The Hippolytus of Euripides,’ in id., Word and Action, Baltimore, 205–230
(=YCS 13, 1952, 3–31).
Konstan, D.
2010 Before Forgiveness: The Origins of a Moral Idea, Cambridge.
Kovacs, D.
1980 ‘Shame, Pleasure, and Honor in Phaedra’s Great Speech (Euripides,
Hippolytus 375–87),’ AJP 101, 287–303.
1987 The Heroic Muse: Studies in the Hippolytus and Hecuba of Euripides, Baltimore.
Kovacs, D. (ed. & tr.)
1995 Euripides, vol. 2, Cambridge, Mass.
Lattimore, R.
1964 Story Patterns in Greek Tragedy, London.
Lefkowitz, M.
1989 ‘“Impiety” and “Atheism” in Euripides’ Dramas,’ CQ 39, 70–82.
Lesky, A.
1947 Thalatta, Vienna.
Linforth, I.
1914 ‘Hippolytus and Humanism,’ TAPA 45, 5–11.
199
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 200
Bibliography
Lipsius, J.H.
1905 Das attische Recht und Rechtsverfahren, Leipzig.
Llewellyn-Jones, L.
2003 Aphrodite’s Tortoise: The Veiled Woman of Ancient Greece, Swansea.
Lloyd-Jones, H.
1983 The Justice of Zeus, 2nd ed., Berkeley.
Luginbill, R.D.
2006 ‘The Thucydidean Element in the Speeches of the Mytilenaean Debate:
History 3.37–48,’ Akroterion 51, 21–42.
Luschnig, C.A.E.
1980 ‘Men and Gods in Euripides’ Hippolytus,’ Ramus 9, 89–100.
1983 ‘The Value of Ignorance in the Hippolytus,’ AJP 104, 115–123.
1988 Time Holds the Mirror: a Study of Knowledge in Euripides’ Hippolytus, Leiden.
MacDowell, D.M.
1976 ‘Hybris in Athens,’ G&R 23, 14–31.
Manuwald, B.
1979 ‘Phaidras tragischer Irrtum: Zur Rede Phaidras in Euripides’ Hippolytos
(vv. 373–430),’ RhM 122, 134–148.
Mastronarde, D.J.
1990 ‘Actors on High: the Skene Roof, the Crane, and the Gods in Attic Drama,’
Classical Antiquity 9, 247–94.
2002 (ed.) Euripides Medea, Cambridge.
Méridier, L. (ed.)
1927 Euripide, 2: Hippolyte. Andromaque. Hecube, Paris.
Michelini, A.
1978 ‘Ὕβρις and Plants,’ HSCP, 82, 35–44.
Montiglio, S.
2005 Wandering in Ancient Greek Culture, Chicago.
Nikolsky, B.
2009 ‘La philia dionysiaque dans le Cyclope d’Euripide,’ Gaia 12, 123–132.
North, H.
1966 Sophrosyne: Self-Knowledge and Self-Restraint in Greek Literature, Ithaca.
Østerud, S.
1970 ‘Who Sings the Monody 669–79 in Euripides’ Hippolytus?’, GRBS 11,
307–20.
Padel, R.
1974 ‘Imagery of the Elsewhere,’ CQ 24, 227–241.
Parry, A.
1989 ‘Landscape in Greek Poetry,’ in The Language of Achilles and Other Papers,
Oxford, 8–31 = (YCS 15, 1957, 3–29).
Parry, H.
1966 ‘The Second Stasimon of Euripides’ Hippolytus (732–775),’ TAPA 97,
317–326.
Pendrick, G.J.
2002 (ed.) Antiphon the Sophist. The Fragments, Cambridge.
Pohlenz, M.
1930 Die Griechische Tragödie, Leipzig.
200
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 201
Bibliography
Rabinowitz, N.
1993 Anxiety Veiled, Ithaca.
Rankin, A.V.
1982 ‘Euripides’ Hippolytus: A Psychopathological Hero,’ Arethusa 15, 181–201.
Reckford, K.J.
1968 ‘Medea’s First Exit,’ TAPA 99, 329–59.
1972 ‘Phaethon, Hippolytus and Aphrodite,’ TAPA 103, 405–32.
1974 ‘Phaedra and Pasiphae: the Pull Backward,’ TAPA 104, 307–28.
Redfield, J.M.
1975 Nature and Culture in the Iliad: the Tragedy of Hector, Chicago.
Rees, K.
1911 ‘The Significance of the Parodoi in the Greek Theater,’ AJPh 32, 377–402.
Reeve, C.D.C.
1999 ‘Thucydides on Human Nature,’ Political Theory, 27, 435–46.
Rehm, R.
2002 The Play of Space, Spatial Transformation in Greek Tragedy, Princeton.
Romilly, J. de
1995 ‘Indulgence et pardon dans la tragédie grecque,’ in Tragédie grecque au fil des
ans, Paris, 62–77.
Saïd, S.
1978 La faute tragique, Paris.
1989 ‘L’espace d’Euripide,’ Dioniso 59, 107–36.
Schein, S.L.
1990 ‘Philia in Euripides’ Medea,’ in M. Griffith and D. J. Mastronarde (eds.),
Cabinet of the Muses: Essays on Classical and Comparative Literature in honor of
Thomas G. Rosenmeyer, Atlanta, 57–73.
Segal, C.P.
1965 ‘The Tragedy of the Hippolytus: The Waters of Ocean and the Untouched
Meadow,’ HSCP 70, 117–69.
1969 Landscape in Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Wiesbaden.
1970 ‘Shame and Purity in Euripides’ Hippolytus,’ Hermes 98, 278–99.
1971 ‘The Two Worlds of Euripides’ Helen,’ TAPA 102, 533–613.
1978–9 ‘Pentheus and Hippolytus on the Couch and on the Grid,’ Classical World
72, 129–48.
1992 ‘Signs, Magic and Letters in Euripides’ Hippolytus,’ in R. Hexter and
D. Selden (eds.), Innovations of Antiquity, New York, 420–56.
1993 Euripides and the Poetics of Sorrow. Art, Gender, and Commemoration in Alcestis,
Hippolytus, and Hecuba, Durham, N.C.
1996 ‘Vengeance, Reversal and Closure,’ Médée et la violence = Pallas 45, 15–44.
Shorey, P.
1893 ‘On the Implicit Ethics and Psychology of Thucydides,’ TAPA 24, 66–88.
Sinclair, T.A.
1925 ‘On ΑΙ∆ΩΣ in Hesiod,’ CR 39, 147–8.
Smith, W.D.
1960 ‘Staging in the Central Scene of the Hippolytus,’ TAPA 91, 162–77.
Snell, B.
1948 ‘Das früheste Zeugnis über Socrates,’ Philologus 97, 125–134.
201
80513_Hippolytus_Book:Layout 1 14/5/15 13:17 Page 202
Bibliography
1964 Scenes from Greek Drama, Berkeley.
Taplin, O.
1977 The Stagecraft of Aeschylus, Oxford.
1978 Greek Tragedy in Action, London.
Tolstoy, L.N.
1928–1958 Polnoe sobranie sochinenii [Complete Works], vol. 62, Moscow.
Trumpf, J.
1960 ‘Küdonische Äpfel,’ Hermes 88, 14–22.
Ubersfeld, A.
1977 Lire le théâtre, Paris.
1981 L’école du spectateur, Paris.
Vickers, B.
1973 Towards Greek Tragedy, New York.
Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, U. von (ed.)
1891 Euripides Hippolytos, Berlin.
Wiles, D.
1999 Tragedy in Athens: Performance Space and Theatrical Meaning, Cambridge.
Willink, C.W.
1968 ‘Some Problems of Text and Interpretation in Hippolytus,’ CQ 18, 11–43.
Zeitlin, F.I.
1996 ‘The Power of Aphrodite,’ in Playing the Other, Chicago, 219–84
(= P. Burian [ed.] Directions in Euripidean Criticism: A Collection of Essays,
Durham, N.C., 1985, 52–111, 189–208).
202
