Who's there? Euripides' Hippolytus, 667-79

Immediately following Hippolytus's high-strung tirade about women comes this speech:

τάλανες ὦ κακοτυχεῖς
γυναικῶν πότμοι.
τίν᾽ ἢ νῦν τέχναν ἔχομεν ἢ λόγον
670 σφαλεῖσαι κάθαμμα λύειν λόγου;
ἐτύχομεν δίκας. ἰὼ γᾶ καὶ φῶς:
πᾷ ποτ᾽ ἐξαλύξω τύχας;
πῶς δὲ πῆμα κρύψω, φίλαι;
675 τίς ἂν θεῶν ἀρωγὸς ἢ τίς ἂν βροτῶν
πάρεδρος ἢ ξυνεργὸς ἀδίκων ἔργων
φανείη; τὸ γὰρ παρ᾽ ἡμῖν πάθος
πέραν δυσεκπέρατον ἔρχεται βίου.

κακοτυχεστάτα γυναικῶν ἐγώ. 

(sung) How luckless, how ill-starred, is the fate of women! [670] What arts do we have, what speech, once we have faltered, that can undo the knot our words have created? I have received my just deserts! Ho, earth, ho, light of the sun! How shall I escape what has befallen, how hide the painful fact, my friends? [675] What god, what mortal shall appear to help me, sit at my side, and lend hand to my unjust deeds? For my present misfortune crosses now—unhappy the crossing—to the farther bourne of life. Unluckiest am I of women! 

Kovacs' translation (on Perseus) gives it to the nurse; Grene, Coleridge and Hamilton all give it to Phaedra. As our discussion showed, both choices can be argued for and against.

Note how the root τύχη is interwoven, appearing in this brief speech four times. The word is capable of symmetrically opposite senses. It can carry the force of Fate, the act of a god, as well as the caprice of chance, fortune, mere accident.

The semantic force given to the word might change depending on whom one believes is speaking. If it's Phaedra, the sense can be fraught with the sense of Necessity. Indeed, the audience knows her predicament stems from the act of a goddess. If it's the Nurse, then translating τύχη as luck, fortune, or chance seem more suitable. In a sense, the sense of the scene and of the world it takes place in depends on who we hear speaking. The choice of character divides along the faultline within the complex sense of τύχη.

Aphrodites Kallipygos

For what it's worth, I hear the Nurse. The speaker looks to techne (τέχναν) -- arts, skills, craft -- to escape the knot (κάθαμμα) of words that she has stumbled into. First, Phaedra has only spoken to the Nurse, so the knot was limited in its range until the Nurse spoke to Hippolytus. We have noted that we don't hear all of that conversation. There are gaps, empty spaces where we must infer what was said, and how the oath that binds Hippolytus was set up. He will say he bound himself in an unguarded moment -- a kind of knot, or trap, resulting from a lowering of defenses, that he regrets. But we don't actually hear his full exchange with the Nurse.

Further, to wish to solve the knot through techne is not unlike the earlier thinking of the Nurse who said she'd find a way out of Phaedra's problem through the use of some ἐπῳδαὶ καὶ λόγοι θελκτήριοι, or φάρμακον -- some incantations or charms, some drug . . .

When the Nurse (or Phaedra) in the speech we are discussing expresses her hopeless hope:

What god, what mortal shall appear to help me, sit at my side, and lend hand to my unjust deeds?

It's difficult to envision the proud, strong Phaedra saying this. It's the speech of the subject class, of those who serve. Besides: what "deeds"?

If so, then the voice of Phaedra that we hear when she next enters reverts to the grander style of vehement authority:

ὦ παγκακίστη καὶ φίλων διαφθορεῦ,
οἷ᾽ εἰργάσω με.

Phaedra

Vile destroyer of your friends, see what you have done to me! May Zeus the father of my race destroy you root and branch with his thunderbolt! [685] Did I not warn you—did I not guess your purpose?—to say nothing of the matters now causing me disgrace? But you could not bear to do so: and so I shall no longer die with an honorable name. I must plan anew.

That the community of readers of this play could be so divided over this question of "who is speaking?" is a sign that the language of this play rests -- restlessly -- on a very fine edge.

Lactating Venus, Reined-In Mars

Arline sends a link to this remarkable Veronese, rich in Renaissance iconography that is its own meditation on Venus and Mars. A variety of data including the catalog entry for the painting, which is owned by the Metropolitan Museum, can be found here.

Phaedra or Nurse?

This speech is sung after Hippolytus finishes his depiction of women, and balances an earlier speech sung by the chorus (Hippolytus 362-72):

sung
How luckless, how ill-starred, is the fate of women! [670] What arts do we have, what speech, once we have faltered, that can undo the knot our words have created? I have received my just deserts! Ho, earth, ho, light of the sun! How shall I escape what has befallen, how hide the painful fact, my friends? [675] What god, what mortal shall appear to help me, sit at my side, and lend hand to my unjust deeds? For my present misfortune crosses now—unhappy the crossing—to the farther bourne of life. Unluckiest am I of women!

Grene and Hamilton give the speech to Phaedra; others (including Perseus) give it to the Nurse. If Phaedra speaks, then she has just entered, and is indicating that she overheard what Hippolytus said to the Nurse. If it's the Nurse, then Phaedra enters right at the end, and is addressed by the Chorus Leader:

Chorus Leader[680] Oh dear, all is over, mistress, and the designs of your servant have not succeeded: all is lost.

Who do you think is speaking here?

Some terms used to excoriate women

Hippolytus on wives, (Hipp. 639-630):

But the man with a nullity (μηδέν) for a wife—he has it easy, although a woman who sits in a house and is a fool (εὐήθεια) is a trouble. [640] But a clever (σοφὴν) woman—that I loathe! May there never be in my house a woman with more intelligence (φρονοῦσα) than befits a woman! For Aphrodite engenders (bears, gives birth to: ἐντίκτω) more mischief (κακοεργός: criminal acts) in the clever. The woman without ability (without means, resources: ἀμάχανος) is kept from indiscretion (folly: μωρίαν) by the slenderness (βραχύς: scarcity, shortness) of her wit (γνώμη: judgment).

One ought to let no slave pass in to see a woman. Rather one should companion them with wild (δάκος: bite) and brute (ἄφθογγος: voiceless, speechless) beasts so that they would be unable either to speak to anyone (προσφωνεῖν: call, speak to, issue orders) or to be spoken to (φθέγμα: voice) in return. But as things are, the wicked ones plot evil [650] within doors, and their servants carry their plans abroad.

χρῆν δ᾽ ἐς γυναῖκα πρόσπολον μὲν οὐ περᾶν,

ἄφθογγα δ᾽ αὐταῖς συγκατοικίζειν δάκη

θηρῶν, ἵν᾽ εἶχον μήτε προσφωνεῖν τινα

μήτ᾽ ἐξ ἐκείνων φθέγμα δέξασθαι πάλιν.

νῦν δ᾽ αἱ μὲν ἔνδον †δρῶσιν αἱ κακαὶ† κακὰ

650 βουλεύματ᾽, ἔξω δ᾽ ἐκφέρουσι πρόσπολοι.

The price of fire

Hesiod's account of the creation of womankind in Theogony (561 ff) is often cited as relevant to the view of women voiced by Euripides' Hippolytus (Hipp. 616 ff):

(ll 561-584) Zeus . . . would not give the power of unwearying fire to the Melian (21) race of mortal men who live on the earth. But the noble son of Iapetus outwitted him and stole the far-seen gleam of unwearying fire in a hollow fennel stalk. And Zeus who thunders on high was stung in spirit, and his dear heart was angered when he saw amongst men the far-seen ray of fire. Forthwith he made an evil thing for men as the price of fire; for the very famous Limping God formed of earth the likeness of a shy maiden as the son of Cronos willed. And the goddess bright-eyed Athene girded and clothed her with silvery raiment, and down from her head she spread with her hands a broidered veil, a wonder to see; and she, Pallas Athene, put about her head lovely garlands, flowers of new-grown herbs. Also she put upon her head a crown of gold which the very famous Limping God made himself and worked with his own hands as a favour to Zeus his father. On it was much curious work, wonderful to see; for of the many creatures which the land and sea rear up, he put most upon it, wonderful things, like living beings with voices: and great beauty shone out from it.

τῇ δ᾽ ἐνὶ δαίδαλα πολλὰ τετεύχατο, θαῦμα ἰδέσθαι, 

κνώδαλ᾽, ὅσ᾽ ἤπειρος πολλὰ τρέφει ἠδὲ θάλασσα, 

τῶν ὅ γε πόλλ᾽ ἐνέθηκε,—χάρις δ᾽ ἀπελάμπετο πολλή,— 

θαυμάσια, ζῴοισιν ἐοικότα φωνήεσσιν.

(ll. 585-589) But when he had made the beautiful evil to be the price for the blessing, he brought her out, delighting in the finery which the bright-eyed daughter of a mighty father had given her, to the place where the other gods and men were. And wonder took hold of the deathless gods and mortal men when they saw that which was sheer guile, not to be withstood by men (δόλον αἰπύν, ἀμήχανον ἀνθρώποισιν).

(ll. 590-612) For from her is the race of women and female kind: of her is the deadly race and tribe of women who live amongst mortal men to their great trouble, no helpmeets in hateful poverty, but only in wealth. And as in thatched hives bees feed the drones whose nature is to do mischief -- by day and throughout the day until the sun goes down the bees are busy and lay the white combs, while the drones stay at home in the covered skeps and reap the toil of others into their own bellies -- even so Zeus who thunders on high made women to be an evil to mortal men, with a nature to do evil. And he gave them a second evil to be the price for the good they had: whoever avoids marriage and the sorrows that women cause, and will not wed, reaches deadly old age without anyone to tend his years, and though he at least has no lack of livelihood while he lives, yet, when he is dead, his kinsfolk divide his possessions amongst them. And as for the man who chooses the lot of marriage and takes a good wife suited to his mind, evil continually contends with good; for whoever happens to have mischievous children, lives always with unceasing grief in his spirit and heart within him; and this evil cannot be healed.

Erotic spells, potions, curses, and mojo

As the Nurse and Phaedra continue to talk about how to resolve Phaedra's plight -- her passion for Hippolytus -- in a way that does not involve her death, the Nurse alludes to the potency of verbal spells:

There are incantations, and words that charm: something will turn up to cure this love. [480]

εἰσὶν δ᾽ ἐπῳδαὶ καὶ λόγοι θελκτήριοι:
φανήσεταί τι τῆσδε φάρμακον νόσου. 480

A little while later, she says she suddenly remembers she has a drug in the house. She has already described Phaedra's condition as νόσος - which can mean literal sickness, as well as a bane, or madness, so thinking of a medicine is perfectly understandable. But it does shift the kind of magic from words to things:

Nurse 

I have love-medicine (θελκτήρια ἔρωτος) [510] within the house—I just thought of it this very moment—that will free you from this malady without disgrace to you or harm to your mind, if only you do not flinch. 

***We must get some token from the man you love, a lock of hair, a piece of clothing, [515] then compound from the twain a single blessing.*** 

Phaedra 

This drug (φάρμακον), is it an ointment or a potion? 

Nurse 

I know not: strive for benefit, not lore.

Note the lines above in italics are omitted in Grene's edition, but are found in Kovacs on Perseus. To complicate matters, Richard Hamilton's Bryn Mawr edition has "word" (logos) instead of "lock of hair" (πλόκον). He assumes it would be a magic word identifying Hippolytus.

Phaedra asks about the medicine. But for the Nurse, once it's a question of a potion, ointment, or compound, bothering to understand what it is becomes pointless. All that matters is what it does.

There seems a certain incoherence here. The Nurse's words lead us to think she intends some magic drug or object. Yet in the next scene, the first thing we learn when, mediated by Phaedra, we overhear the Nurse talking to Hippolytus is that she has revealed to him Phaedra's passion for him. We never hear the Nurse's exact words, or learn why she tells him, and we also do not hear her extracting his oath of silence. We the audience have auditory gaps in our understanding. This will probably merit some attention further on. The seeming inconsistency might explain why Grene omits the lines that introduce thingly magic entirely. 

For now I just want to point to some of the thinking about ancient love spells, charms, and the like, since these modes of trying to cause someone to fall in love, or to fall out of love with someone else (separation spells), seem to go back as far as language and inscriptions can take us. 

Christopher Faraone associates much erotic incantation with the form of the curse. "What I discovered was that most of the technologies that are used in spells for throwing erotic passion into someone are borrowed from the realm of cursing," he says in an interview.

Eleni Pachoumi surveys several kinds of spells in this article. Some are supposed to lead the loved one to the lover; others unbind them from those they currently love. She also speaks of defixiones -- curse tablets in which a god or gods are asked to do harm to someone.

[Update: Here's a note on two medieval love charms.]

Incidentally, it is gratifying to see articles like Pachoumi's published in an open access format, rather than behind the accursed paywalls of JSTOR, Project MUSE, or others.

Here's an ancient curse - the words and translation are here:

Horace's very funny satire I.8, has Priapus as a half-carved block of wood recounting how he was forced to confront two witches invading Maecenas's garden.

While Horace was having his laugh, credence in the power of lotions, powders and potions that attract, separate, or destroy is alive and well in the world of love, magic and commerce:

Lucky Mojo

The Chorus's war-torn ode to Love

The stasimon to Eros punctuates the dialogue between Phaedra and the Nurse in Hippolytus scene 2. Scene 3 will begin with Phaedra silencing the Chorus so she can overhear what is being said, inside the palace, between Hippolytus and the Nurse. 

The chorus begins by calling on Eros:

Ἔρως Ἔρως, ὁ κατ᾽ ὀμμάτων

στάζων πόθον, εἰσάγων γλυκεῖαν

ψυχᾷ χάριν οὓς ἐπιστρατεύσῃ

Eros, Eros, shedding yearning upon the eyes, bringing sweet pleasure to the souls of those against whom you make war. (Kovacs, modified by me).

Eros and War fuse in the descriptive ἐπιστρατεύσῃ -- march upon, make war. The verb is cognate with the noun strategos, "general," which is the root of the English word strategy.

The ode is far too rich to do justice to it here. A few notes will have to do. The next strophe gives us Eros as the τύραννον ἀνδρῶν, king of men, who holds the keys to the sweetest inner chamber of Aphrodite:

τὸν τᾶς Ἀφροδίτας

540  φιλτάτων θαλάμων κλῃδοῦχον

The third strophe begins with Iole, the virgin child ("foal") of Eurytus, and ends in her marriage to Heracles, rank with the blood and smoke of her father's city. 

545  τὰν μὲν Οἰχαλίᾳ

πῶλον ἄζυγα λέκτρων, ἄναν-

δρον τὸ πρὶν καὶ ἄνυμφον, οἴ-

κων ζεύξασ᾽ ἀπ᾽ Εὐρυτίων

550 δρομάδα ναΐδ᾽ ὅπως τε βάκ-

χαν σὺν αἵματι, σὺν καπνῷ,

φονίοισι νυμφείοις

Ἀλκμήνας τόκῳ Κύπρις ἐξέδωκεν:

ὦ τλάμων ὑμεναίων.

That filly in Oechalia, unyoked as yet to marriage-bed, unhusbanded, unwed, Cypris took from the house of her father Eurytus [550] and yoked her like a footloose Naiad or a Bacchant and gave her—to the accompaniment of bloodshed and smoke, with bloody bridal—to Alcmene's son. O unhappy in her marriage!

Eurytus was the grandson of Apollo and king of Oechalia who taught Heracles how to use a bow. But when the hero won his teacher's archery contest and Iole, he was shown the door. He returned to claim his prize with extreme prejudice.

Archers are usually linked with Apollonian mastery -- aiming and hitting your target from a distance -- precisely what "not missing the mark" (see Nurse 507) means. The ordered Apollonian world of Oechalia and Iole's expectation of a harmonious hymeneal are wrecked by Heracles, ruled by the τύραννον ἀνδρῶν.

The final strophe depicts Semele, daughter of Cadmus and Harmonia, incinerated by the βροντᾷ γὰρ ἀμφιπύρῳ "Double blazing thunder" of the king of the gods. Can we say there's a progression in power from the key-holding Eros in the second strophe to Heracles to Zeus? As well as from chamber door to marital bed to womb holding Bacchus? Or would this be our interpretive effort going astray (hamartia) under the pressure of the inevitable desire for order?

(Speaking of going astray, I misspoke earlier today: Eurytus's bow was a gift of his grandfather Apollo, and it passed, via Eurytus's son Iphitus, to Odysseus. A different bow passed from Heracles to Philoctetes. It too might have been a gift from Apollo, but different from that of Eurytus.)

Much more could be said about this ode. The audience need not accept the chorus's vision of Eros either as the sole view or the author's view. Other images of love appear in the play.

The yoking of love and war is a familiar topos in Greek literature. Here's the unforgettable beginning of Sappho's Fragment 16:

Some say a force of horsemen, some say infantry
and others say a fleet of ships is the loveliest
thing on the dark earth, but I say it is
the one you love ... more