Bowing, belike, to conquering circumstance.
And wilt not thou? Nay, if this law thou spurnest,
Thy sire, when he begat thee, should have writ
Some compact countersigned by gods unknown!
The nurse makes moral weakness into a very religion,[484] and Phædra’s heart, one would suppose, is finally broken when, to this appeal that the gods themselves are against her, is added proof that man is utterly unable to understand. “If thy life had not been in such danger,” says the nurse, “and thou hadst happened to be a chaste woman, I should not thus lead thee on,”[485] and again: “Thy duty, to be sure, forbids sin; but, as things are, be advised by me”.[486] This hideous purring is perhaps Phædra’s bitterest shame. No one can understand, except the prince who seems so utterly remote. Hippolytus, after her death, can say[487]
Unchaste in passion, chaste in soul was she;
Me hath my passionless purity dishonoured.
What does Phædra herself say? Is there any reply to the dreadful eloquence of her old attendant? There is only one reply conceivable, and she offers it: “Whatever gods may do, or men think, I must so act as to be able to respect myself”.[488] Euripides insists that the centre of ethics lies in man himself. For Phædra there is no soul on which she can rely but her own; the conflict must be fought out within herself. The great speech[489] in which she tells her spiritual history to the chorus without any reserve or faltering, is the kernel of the tragedy. We realize how empty of all comfort life can be for those who resolutely reject outworn creeds and turn to seek for a better. Here is no thought, no hint, of a saviour; the puny soul must struggle alone with an uncomprehended universe. Æschylus had found a saviour in Zeus;[490] Euripides can see no comfort in gods who are less virtuous than men. In this speech, too, we note for the first time a portrayal of moral temptation and a clear conception of conscience. Sophocles understands well how duty can brace the soul to heroic life or death, but for him the sanction of duty lies in the will of external deities. For Euripides conscience is sufficient as a rule of conduct.
Phædra is a masterpiece of characterization. Whatever we are to guess of the earlier[491] picture, she is here a noble and spirited woman, who cannot help her instincts but who can and will dispute their power over her life. She is, of course, not perfect—if she were she would be no fit subject for drama—and the manner in which Euripides has caused the action to hinge precisely upon her weaknesses, without lessening our respect and affection, is one of the most improving studies provided by dramatic art. The little crevices of circumstance by which wrong-doing—the destruction of Hippolytus—creeps into her soul are beautifully indicated. She is wasted by fasting,[492] a state conducive to keener perception and weaker will. She has been brought—without any attempt on her part, so surely she may indulge in the disastrous joy[493]—from Athens to the little town where the prince lives. Her husband, as it chances,[494] is from home and her life is left empty for “long, long thoughts”.[495] When she dwells upon her passion the recollection of her mother’s and her sister’s fate half attracts while it half repels.[496] Her passionate nature insists on revealing some part of her distress to the keen eyes of the nurse, who forthwith joins the claims of old affection[497] to this new secret pain. So it is that she is half-conquered by what she will not do:—
Nay, in God’s name, forbear! Thy words are vile