4 stars

The conflict between silence and voice was so compelling in this play, especially when tied to guilt. Does sin originate in the thought or only when verbalised into existence? The power of words is demonstrated through the oaths and confessions, which become uncontrollable once spoken into reality. I love texts that investigate language so this one was really enjoyable for me.

Making my way through the Greek tragedies and you can't help but think that the invention of the gods was man's biggest self-own.

I've read the Anne Carson translation before this, tried to get through the David Grene, and now have found my favorite of the lot in Robert Bagg. I think the introductory essay is a great way to pre-judge a particular translation, because one can glean whether or not the translator even gives a shit about the work they've translated. In Carson's and Bagg's case their essays are powerful, almost as much so as the amazing work of Euripides itself. This is by far one of Euripides' best and deserves a translator who gives a shit. Grene on the other hand, reduces the god-given compulsions of our protagonists to "a flimsy ambiguity of motive." Piss off, mate.

Stick with Bagg, and for a different take not quite as good but worth considering, go with Carson.

I once saw someone describe Hippolytus as a fedora-wearing MRA, and that pretty much sums up this play. Phaedra herself is full of internalised misogyny. As always in Euripides, the nature of the gods is very interesting. I have studied Greek tragedy for years, and I do not understand why, out of all Euripides' plays, Hippolytus is considered his masterpiece.

translator: John Davie.

He did it again. I 100% agree with Natalie Haynes, Euripides is one of the best writers of a woman’s voice, but likewise he is one of the best writers of tragedy. You finish the novel feeling sympathetic for everyone, Hippolytus, Theseus, and even Phaedra who you might wish to hate, but Euripides absolves her of her villainous reputation. And the twist about Theseus’ wishes! I thought I already knew what was gonna happen, but man, that was clever. Greek tragedies aren’t generally riveting, and I can’t really describe this play as such either, but Euripides has managed to strike a cord with me as a modern reader that I just don’t feel with many other playwrights or poets of his time

'Voli Artemidu više od mene,' pita se Afrodita. 'Platiće mi to!' Baca magiju na Fedru (maćehu), da se zaljubi u Hipolita. Fedra mu to otkriva, a ovaj čistunac je zgranut! Ovo je sam početak, otprilike se na tom početku i spojluje cela tragedija, ali ne moram i ja to da radim ovde. Očekivano (grčka tragedija, šta ćemo) dolazi do niza tragičnih događaja, na kraju je svima kao žao Hipolita, ali zapravo i ne. Niko ga ne voli.

A i teško ga je voleti, nije nimalo simpatičan. Potpuno je anti-erotičan. I anti-poetičan. Sve što radi je nekako bezveze. Dosadan je čak i dok jede. Mrzi žene, ali ne zato što je imao loše iskustvo s njima - zapravo i nije imao nikakvo iskustvo. Zevsu se žali:

"Što, Zeuse, zlo podmuklo - žensku čovjeku
ti stvori i na svijetlo svijeta iznese?
[...] u svom domu mogo je
bez žene smrtnik mirno živjet slobodan.
Al 'vako nam je pod krov vodit bijedu tu,
a doma svoga srećom mi to plaćamo.
Bjelodano je, žena da je silno zlo."

Ovo je tragedija o erotskoj ljubavi, ali i o jednoj od vrlina koju su Grci najviše hvalili: umerenosti. A umerenost kao takva je zapravo dosta problematična. Praktično je nevidljiva, nema je - umeren si kad nešto NE uradiš. Kako znaš da je neko umeren? Trebalo bi da ima neki poriv, strast, koja je izražena, pa se onda svom snagom bori protiv tih sila. Onda na osnovu toga možemo da kažemo, evo stvarno se potrudio... umeren je.

Festival grčke tragedije
1. Car Edip (Sofokle)
2. Iphigenia in Aulis (Euripid)
3. Agamemnon (Eshil)
4. Antigona (Sofokle)
5. Eumenides (Eshil)
6. Bahantkinje (Euripid)
7. Hippolytus the Bacchae (Euripid)
8. The Libation Bearers (Pokajnice - Eshil)
9. Pribjegarke (Eshil)
10. Ifigenija na Tauridi (Euripid)
11. Oedipus at Colonus (Sofokle)

Parece que en vida de Eurípides y aun después era muy corriente decir que era un misógino de mucho cuidado, por culpa principalmente de dos malos matrimonios que hizo. Parece, también, que los contemporáneos de Eurípides tenían muy mala leche (Aristófanes, te miro a ti) y que no dejaban que nada, y mucho menos la realidad, les arruinara un buen chisme. Los helenistas que han revisado lo poquito que se sabe sobre Eurípides coinciden en decir que lo de la misoginia no tenía por qué ser cierto, y que de hecho da la sensación de que era una persona bastante sensible hacia la situación de los oprimidos: las mujeres, los prisioneros de guerra, etc. ¿A quién hacer caso?

No creo que se pueda resolver esa cuestión fácilmente. Solo sé que Eurípides a veces parece tan moderno que te sobresalta. ¿Es posible que este hombre escribiera esas cosas en el siglo V antes de nuestra era? Todas esas historias de pasión devoradora, con unos dioses que eran mostrados sin recato en toda su psicopatía, esas gentecillas del coro tan compasivas, esos comentarios que te los podría hacer un amigo o incluso un conocido con muchas ganas de desahogarse. El alma saliéndose a chorros por la boca, vaya. En mi arrogancia adolescente y de letras puras podía emperrarme en pensar que Antígona de Sófocles hablaba del enfrentamiento entre lo personal y lo institucional, ya fuese la institución la religión o el estado (y no entre los mandatos religiosos y los civiles, como realmente así era). Con Eurípides puedo estar plenamente convencida: en sus obras lo que importa son las personas, no los dioses, no la polis. Las Personas.

Me gusta Hipólito aunque no sea de mis favoritas. A lo mejor lo habría sido en esa primera versión que no se conserva, en la que Fedra no se avergonzaba del amor que sentía por su hijastro. No lo sabré nunca como tampoco sabré si Eurípides odiaba realmente a las mujeres. Pero puedo hacerme mi propia idea a partir de los personajes femeninos tan fantásticos que creó y de las palabras que puso en sus bocas. Hipólito contiene un parlamento que condensa todo el machismo de la sociedad griega clásica, pero en las tragedias de Eurípides, aquí y allá, las mujeres dicen cosas que evidencian la otra versión: el hartazgo, el resentimiento, el sarcasmo femenino ante la enorme importancia de las empresas masculinas. Para ser un misógino, Eurípides mostraba una enorme empatía hacia las mujeres y sus deseos de rebelarse, como si en lugar de tener una idea preconcebida sobre el sexo opuesto (como hacen tantos otros escritores de toda época) realmente las escuchara y deseara entenderlas. Puede que mi opinión, como la de los especialistas, esté demasiado influida por la perspectiva moderna. O puede que la modernidad no esté tanto en la perspectiva, y que Eurípides fuese realmente una de esas personas que, en cualquier época, se saltan todos los convencionalismos. Me inclino por esto último.

Review of Michael R. Halleran's translation of Euripides' Hippolytus (Focus Classical Library, 2001.) - Halleran's translation is very readable, and he provides brief, but good and helpful notes. This is a revised version of his 1995 translation (Aris and Philips), which also included the Greek text. This newer edition is directed to a wider readership and features a very useful Introduction where Euripides' earlier, now lost, version of Hippolytus (sometimes called 'Hippolytus Veiled') is also discussed - a topic that is (partly) picked up in his very interesting interpretative essay that concludes this book. The Introduction focuses on the play in the time and context it was written and first performed; the original staging of tragedy in general, as well as Hippolytus in myth and cult. The well-written concluding essay deals more in-depth with plot and structure, including major themes like speech, silence and deception; reputation, shame and honour; sōphrosynē; passion, reason and ignorance. – The combination of the translation, introduction and final essay in this edition makes it a very good choice both for the general reader as well as for those with some prior knowledge of Greek tragedy.



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4 Stars

For Euripides, Hippolytus is an intentional and accordingly annoying celibate, whose chastity offends Aphrodite ("All those that live and see the light of the sun / from Atlas' Pillars to the tide of Pontus / are mine to rule" (ll.3-5)). Apparently one is subject to nemesis if one lives out the hubris of this no-fuckin' eidos zoe.

Nemesis in this case comes in the form of unlawful desire created in H's stepmom, Phaedra, who has married H's father, Theseus, who at the opening of this text had been off with his potentially heteronormative proverbial friendly friend Pirithous to kidnap Helen and Persephone; no one can accuse them of lacking ambition, I suppose. This kidnapping mission went cock-eyed in Tartarus, where they were trapped for years. One may accordingly not blame Phaedra if she needed to depend upon the kindness of xenos insofar as attentive lovers were in short supply in mythical Hellas. Because of this dearth, Phaedra is "afire with longing" (232), and her "body / is wracked and wasted" (274)--a "secret sickness" (293) to be disclosed to purported women only ("But if your troubles may be told to men, / speak, that a doctor may pronounce on it" (295-96)).

Luckily for her, H can hardly be thought of as xenos, so no big deal, right? H after all litters his speech with seductive ironies such as how he is "the seed of / Chastity" (ll. 80-81), which suggests his plausible skill as a practitioner of the erotic arts. Either way, the chorus regards it as "Pan's frenzy" or "Hecate's madness" (ll. 141-42), which perhaps suggests that it may in fact be a big deal after all. (I may be dead wrong about Hippolytus not being xenos, incidentally, to the extent that Phaedra is referring to him (an irresolvable ambiguity at the foundation of this text) when she says "Destruction light / upon the wife who herself plays the tempter / and stains her loyalty to her husband's bed / by dalliance with strangers" (407-410).)

P is instructed that there is "no remedy in silence" (298), which is the advice that triggers the tragedy here--P does not want to disclose her desire, as it is a "stain" (317) to be concealed (is it the desire, or the dalliance, supra, that is the stain, however? another irresolvable ambiguity)--but her interlocutors try to "force confession" (325). When asked "are you in love, my child? And who is he?" (350), P replies, non-responsively, "There is a man, ...his mother was an Amazon..." (351). Answered: "You mean Hippolytus?" (352); countered: "You have spoken it, not I" (353), which does not change the entire play--her silence is maintained and the action sets forth in the style of Three's Company thereafter--except in this case the salacious inferences of Mr. Roper just happen to be correct.

The chorus is too stupid to see that they have Mr. Ropered this thing, stating "you yourself / have dragged your ruin to the light" (366-67), which is emphatically false (unless the nurse is a slave, whose body acts out the will of the despot and is imputed to same--cf. Agamben on Aristotle here)--though it indicates that the underlying desire is less the problem than the disclosure of it. P understands the problem of disclosure (which comes across in agambenian terms almost) :

This is the deadly thing which devastates
well-ordered cities and the homes of men--
that's it, this art of oversubtle words.
It's not the words ringing delight in the ear
that one should speak, but those that have the power
to save their hearer's honorable name. (ll 486-91)

The transaction here is doubly stupid insofar as everyone recognizes the inferred underlying desire as alien: "Your case is not so extraordinary, / beyond thought or reason. The Goddess in her anger / has smitten you, and you are in love" (ll. 437-39).

Anyway, after promising P that H won't be told, the nurse tells H and that leads inexorably to everyone being dead. Misogynist H, whose "tongue swore, but my mind was still unpledged" (l. 612), endorsing thereby a mind/body dichotomy worthy of Epictetus, also regards the disclosure as the problem: "I'll go to a running stream and pour its waters / into my ear to purge away the filth" (l. 653-54). Charming! P's counterstroke is to accuse H of crime in her dying declaration. Artemis appears post-catastrophe to explain to the survivors just how dumb they are (if she had hurried up before everyone died, there wouldn't be a tragedy here). Good times for all.

When Seneca takes up this narrative, he strips it of the theophanic prologue and epilogue, and thereby allows the human persons to expose and conclude the premises of the conflict. The characters incessantly refer to the deities--right away Hippolytus praises his 'diva virago' (l. 54).

We note the connection to the setting developed in Seneca's Medea, to the extent that Phaedra here refers to her home as "the vast sea's mistress, whose countless vessels along every coast have held the deep, yea, whatever lands, e'en to Assyria" (ll. 85-87)--the insistence upon a free and open maritime zone, the basis of Roman military logistics.

Also noted is the connection to Seneca's Hercules Furens, insofar as Phaedra's critical self-assessment (i.e., anagnorisis, but very early) leads her to "Why this mad love of forest glades? [quid furens saltus amas] I recognize my wretched mother's fatal curse; her love and mine know how to sin in forest depths" (ll. 112-14). But of course the furens of Heracles leads to him to murder his kids, rather than try to seduce them.

Phaedra's nurse in this version is upfront about the "monstrous passion" (l. 142) and "impious intercourse" (l. 160)--it is a "deed which no barbaric land has ever done, neither the Getae, wandering on their plains, nor the inhospitable Taurians [i.e., where Iphigenia went post-sacrifice], nor the scattered Scythians" (ll. 166-68). By contrast with Euripides, Seneca has Phaedra ratify this recitation: "I know, nurse, that what thou sayest is true" (ll. 178-79). (The nurse chides Phaedra with the spectre of "strange prodigies" (l. 175), asking "Why do monsters cease? [cur monstra cessant] (l. 174), which can also mean "why do the warnings stop?"--but the answer in either event is that Heracles killed all the chthonic monsters already.) Nurse otherwise is standard stoic: "Control thy passion" (l. 255)--until she agrees to assist Phaedra to "ensnare his mind" (l. 416), which includes encouraging young Hippolytus to "let Bacchus unburden thy weighty cares" (l. 445).

Hippolytus is too rustic for all that, preferring the "free and innocent" life of the country (l. 482), the "ancient ways." It is a political point for him: "no slave is he of kings" (490), but he also fears ochlocracy ("no shouting populace, no mob, faithless to good men" (ll. 485-86)). He is a true conservative insofar as he is nostalgic for "the primal age," "no blind love of gold," "not yet did rash vessels plough the sea: each man knew only his native waters" (ll. 525 et seq.). He is sufficiently obnoxious to be anti-agriculture (l. 538), preferring a pastoral or even hunter-gatherer economy. "Unholy passion [furens] for gain broke up this peaceful life" (l. 540).

Moreover, the nasty conservatism comes out as a regular misogyny, as he highlights that "alone, Medea, will prove that women are an accursed race" (ll. 563-64): "I abominate them all [detestor omnes]" (l. 566). So, yeah, totally setting up a meet-cute, wherein she offers to be his slave (l. 612), endorsing a nasty fungibility of persons doctrine because "Theseus' features I love" (l. 647), which she detects on Theseus' son. H responds with the promising flirtation of "O thou, who have outsinned the whole race of women, who hast dared a greater evil than thy monster-bearing mother" (ll. 687-88). At that point, P can't handle it any longer and threatens suicide, and H runs away into the forest. The Nurse here reverses Euripides by reporting to everyone that H tried to ravish P (l. 725) (just as Seneca also reversed the role of who reported her desire to Hippolytus, NB). Phaedra, for her part, ratifies the lie (l. 900 et seq.), and Theseus concludes that "The breed reverts to its progenitors and debased blood reproduces the primal stock" (ll. 906-08), referring to his son's alleged racial 'furens.'

Thence it all shakes out as we know, but with Senecan gore mixed with stoic moralisms. Gotta love that. On to Racine.

Sexuality & Celibacy
17 April 2012

tI should mention that technically this play should come under 'I' as opposed to 'H' (and I almost put it under 'I' without thinking) namely because Greek does not actually have an 'H'. What they have are rough and smooth breathings, which is a little symbol that appears at the front of a word that begins with a vowel. If the word has a smooth breathing it is pronounced without an H while if it has a rough breathing it is pronounced with an H. You have probably worked out that Hippolytus has a rough breathing, however in the Greek Lexicons it will be found under 'Iota' which is the Greek I.

tThis play is a tragedy however it is not strictly a tragedy in the true sense of the word namely because the main character, Hippolytus, does not have a fatal flaw. However, this whole concept of a fatal flaw was something that Aristotle explores in 'Poetics' and it is something that Shakespeare used in a lot of his tragedies, though I will still argue that the central characters in his tragedies do not strictly have fatal flaws. The Greek tragedies don't really seem to use it either, so I am not sure what Aristotle is getting at when he was writing his poetics. Mind you, I don't think Aristotle was around during the period when the great playwrights were writing their plays, and while one could consider that drama as an artform was still developing, it seemed that by the time Sophocles and Euripides were writing their plays and competing against each other drama had reached a reasonably mature form.

tOne could consider that Phaedra and Theseus are the tragic heroes in this play and that Hippolytus has just an innocent victim. It is not the only play where the tragic hero is not the title character, the same is the case of Julius Ceaser: the tragic hero in Julius Ceaser is Marcus Brutus. Now, the issue with Phaedra is that she is madly in love with Hippolytus however Hippolytus is Theseus' son (not by Phaedra) and Phaedra is married to Theseus, so there is a problem. The second problem is that Hippolytus has devoted himself to the goddess Artemis, the Goddess of nature and the wilds. In keeping with Artemis' character, Hippolytus has chosen a life of celibacy. Despite that Phaedra is still his step mother and I am very doubtful that Hippolytus would betray his father by sleeping with his stepmother. Strangely enough it is this type of relationship that Paul goes ballistic at the Corinthians for in the New Testament. Seriously, it is not a comforting idea, even though Phaedra is not his mother by birth. Remember, it is this sin that drives Oedipus to gouge out his eyes and exile himself (though Jocasta is his mother by birth).

tNow, the play opens with a very upset Aphrodite and the reason that she is upset is because Hippolytus is celibate. It confuses me somewhat as to why a god would get so uptight over a single celibate man, but I have a feeling that it goes quite deeper than that. I guess we need to consider the Greek Gods in a more ancient and pagan sense where they personify ideas and concepts, and in Aphrodite's case that concept is sexual love (though I suspect that is where Eros comes in, the Greek Gods can be quite confusing, though I know that Aphrodite is a major god while Eros is not). Anyway, the play demonstrates the fickleness of the gods, where by devoting himself to Artemis Hippolytus earns the enmity of Aphrodite. In a way it is a lose lose situation, and I suspect something that Hippolytus is confronting. I also suspect that Euripides is not a very big fan of this.

tNow, Hippolytus is not actually living with his father, he is old enough to go out on his own, however because Theseus is purging some sin (which remains unnamed in the play) he has taken his wife Phaedra to Trozen to become pure. Now, there were issues between Phaedra and Hippolytus back in Athens, and Hippolytus left, probably for his own sanity, however Phaedra's yearning for him has not gone away. We should note that this is a part of Aphrodite's curse on Hippolytus. There is an interesting thing that I have picked up from the Greek dramas because in our society we would simply call it love sickness, and personally, we really don't know how it comes about. I doubt the Greeks did either, which is why they blamed the gods. We see a similar thing with madness cursing Herakles in his self-named play, and a similar thing with Ajax in his self-named play.

tNow, Phaedra, who cannot handle Hippolytus' rejection, and cannot imagine living without a sexual liason with him, decides to kill herself and to leave a note blaming Hippolytus for her death. This indicates hints of depression, however it does seem to be a very extreme case in killing herself because she cannot have Hippolytus. However I suspect that such suicides are not unheard of in our own society, though I must admit that I haven't explored this concept deeply. We should note that psychologists have turned to this play in relation to some mental health issues. Anyway, Thesus pretty much prejudges Hippolytus and it is only after he has called curses down on him that he realises that he has acted too rashly. I guess it is not surprising. In fact it is a very human grief reaction to act and blame before rationally thinking about what has been occurring. We actually saw the grief cycle at a seminar today, though I must admit that I can't remember the specific. I suspect, though, that if we look at Theseus' reaction to Phaedra's death then we will see the grief cycle (and one aspect is denial followed by blame and then later on comes acceptance).

tOnce again, I am not convinced Hippolytus did anything wrong, and it appears that he is simply being persecuted for his way of life. I was going to say morality, but my feeling is that celibacy is not actually a question of morality because there is actually nothing wrong with sex. It is like many of the other good things on this Earth, namely that it is good but it can be quite destructive if not respected.

tSo what we seem to see here is the struggle between sexuality and celibacy. It is once again something that is all too common in our society. It is unacceptable to be celibate, as seems to be the case here. Our society believes that we are fools if we chose a path of celibacy, where as in this play, celibacy angers Aphrodite. However, the catch is that celibacy is accepted by Artemis and I also suspect that Athena is celibate as well. I guess that the one reason that celibacy is looked down upon has nothing to do with sexual pleasure and everything to do with the failure to procreate. This is something that does come out in the Bible, especially when we have one of Judah's children in the book of Genesis spilling his seed on the ground and then God punishing him when he does so. Remember that twice in Genesis God commands humanity to be fruitful and multiply and to fill the earth with progeny.

tI wish to finish off on the nature of death. When Hippolytus dies Artemis comes to comfort him in his final hours. It is not a quick death - it is a long, slow, and painful one, namely because he was trampled by his horses. Anyway the tragedy of the situation is that despite his lifelong devotion to Artemis it is clear that he is not going to be spending his afterlife with her. In fact this is clearly spelt out in the text. I suspect that that was not originally a Greek concept, and was probably inherited from the Middle East. Islam, Judaism, and Christianity all have the concept of spending the afterlife with the deity. With the Greeks, and I suspect the Romans, this is not the case. Mind you, the Greeks did believe in reincarnation, but I suspect that this was not going to happen to Hippolytus (though we do know that Achilles did go to the Elysian Fields, which is the closest one can come the Greek concept of Heaven).