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TITLE: PHAEDRA
AUTHOR: JEAN BAPTISTE RACINE
EBOOK: E03703 (O'Briens Book Cellar)

Phaedra

by Jean Baptiste Racine

Translated by Robert Bruce Boswell

INTRODUCTORY NOTE

JEAN BAPTISTE RACINE, the younger contemporary of Corneille, and his
rival for supremacy in French classical tragedy, was born at Ferte-
Milon, December 21, 1639. He was educated at the College of Beauvais,
at the great Jansenist school at Port Royal, and at the College
d'Harcourt. He attracted notice by an ode written for the marriage of
Louis XIV in 1660, and made his first really great dramatic success
with his "Andromaque." His tragic masterpieces include "Britannicus,"
"Berenice," "Bajazet," "Mithridate," "Iphigenie," and "Phaedre," all
written between 1669 and 1677. Then for some years he gave up dramatic
composition, disgusted by the intrigues of enemies who sought to
injure his career by exalting above him an unworthy rival. In 1689 he
resumed his work under the persuasion of Mme. de Maintenon, and
produced "Esther" and "Athalie," the latter ranking among his finest
productions, although it did not receive public recognition until some
time after his death in 1699. Besides his tragedies, Racine wrote one
comedy, "Les Plaideurs," four hymns of great beauty, and a history of
Port Royal.

The external conventions of classical tragedy which had been
established by Corneille, Racine did not attempt to modify. His study
of the Greek tragedians and his own taste led him to submit willingly
to the rigor and simplicity of form which were the fundamental marks
of the classical ideal. It was in his treatment of character that he
differed most from his predecessor; for whereas, as we have seen,
Corneille represented his leading figures as heroically subduing
passion by force of will, Racine represents his as driven by almost
uncontrollable passion. Thus his creations appeal to the modern reader
as more warmly human; their speech, if less exalted, is simpler and
more natural; and he succeeds more brilliantly with his portraits of
women than with those of men.

All these characteristics are exemplified in "Phaedre," the tragedy of
Racine which has made an appeal to the widest audience. To the legend
as treated by Euripides, Racine added the love of Hippolytus for
Aricia, and thus supplied a motive for Phaedra's jealousy, and at the
same time he made the nurse instead of Phaedra the calumniator of his
son to Theseus.

PHAEDRA

CHARACTERS

THESEUS, son of Aegeus and King of Athens.
PHAEDRA, wife of Theseus and Daughter of Minos and Pasiphae.
HIPPOLYTUS, son of Theseus and Antiope, Queen of the Amazons.
ARICIA, Princess of the Blood Royal of Athens.
OENONE, nurse of Phaedra.
THERAMENES, tutor of Hippolytus.
ISMENE, bosom friend of Aricia.
PANOPE, waiting-woman of Phaedra.
GUARDS.

The scene is laid at Troezen, a town of the Peloponnesus.

ACT I

SCENE I
HIPPOLYTUS, THERAMENES

HIPPOLYTUS
My mind is settled, dear Theramenes,
And I can stay no more in lovely Troezen.
In doubt that racks my soul with mortal anguish,
I grow ashamed of such long idleness.
Six months and more my father has been gone,
And what may have befallen one so dear
I know not, nor what corner of the earth
Hides him.

THERAMENES
And where, prince, will you look for him?
Already, to content your just alarm,
Have I not cross'd the seas on either side
Of Corinth, ask'd if aught were known of Theseus
Where Acheron is lost among the Shades,
Visited Elis, doubled Toenarus,
And sail'd into the sea that saw the fall
Of Icarus? Inspired with what new hope,
Under what favour'd skies think you to trace
His footsteps? Who knows if the King, your father,
Wishes the secret of his absence known?
Perchance, while we are trembling for his life,
The hero calmly plots some fresh intrigue,
And only waits till the deluded fair--

HIPPOLYTUS
Cease, dear Theramenes, respect the name
Of Theseus. Youthful errors have been left
Behind, and no unworthy obstacle
Detains him. Phaedra long has fix'd a heart
Inconstant once, nor need she fear a rival.
In seeking him I shall but do my duty,
And leave a place I dare no longer see.

THERAMENES
Indeed! When, prince, did you begin to dread
These peaceful haunts, so dear to happy childhood,
Where I have seen you oft prefer to stay,
Rather than meet the tumult and the pomp
Of Athens and the court? What danger shun you,
Or shall I say what grief?

HIPPOLYTUS
That happy time
Is gone, and all is changed, since to these shores
The gods sent Phaedra.

THERAMENES
I perceive the cause
Of your distress. It is the queen whose sight
Offends you. With a step-dame's spite she schemed
Your exile soon as she set eyes on you.
But if her hatred is not wholly vanish'd,
It has at least taken a milder aspect.
Besides, what danger can a dying woman,
One too who longs for death, bring on your head?
Can Phaedra, sick'ning of a dire disease
Of which she will not speak, weary of life
And of herself, form any plots against you?

HIPPOLYTUS
It is not her vain enmity I fear,
Another foe alarms Hippolytus.
I fly, it must be own'd, from young Aricia,
The sole survivor of an impious race.

THERAMENES
What! You become her persecutor too!
The gentle sister of the cruel sons
Of Pallas shared not in their perfidy;
Why should you hate such charming innocence?

HIPPOLYTUS
I should not need to fly, if it were hatred.

THERAMENES
May I, then, learn the meaning of your flight?
Is this the proud Hippolytus I see,
Than whom there breathed no fiercer foe to love
And to that yoke which Theseus has so oft
Endured? And can it be that Venus, scorn'd
So long, will justify your sire at last?
Has she, then, setting you with other mortals,
Forced e'en Hippolytus to offer incense
Before her? Can you love?

HIPPOLYTUS
Friend, ask me not.
You, who have known my heart from infancy
And all its feelings of disdainful pride,
Spare me the shame of disavowing all
That I profess'd. Born of an Amazon,
The wildness that you wonder at I suck'd
With mother's milk. When come to riper age,
Reason approved what Nature had implanted.
Sincerely bound to me by zealous service,
You told me then the story of my sire,
And know how oft, attentive to your voice,
I kindled when I heard his noble acts,
As you described him bringing consolation
To mortals for the absence of Alcides,
The highways clear'd of monsters and of robbers,
Procrustes, Cercyon, Sciro, Sinnis slain,
The Epidaurian giant's bones dispersed,
Crete reeking with the blood of Minotaur.
But when you told me of less glorious deeds,
Troth plighted here and there and everywhere,
Young Helen stolen from her home at Sparta,
And Periboea's tears in Salamis,
With many another trusting heart deceived
Whose very names have 'scaped his memory,
Forsaken Ariadne to the rocks
Complaining, last this Phaedra, bound to him
By better ties,--you know with what regret
I heard and urged you to cut short the tale,
Happy had I been able to erase
From my remembrance that unworthy part
Of such a splendid record. I, in turn,
Am I too made the slave of love, and brought
To stoop so low? The more contemptible
That no renown is mine such as exalts
The name of Theseus, that no monsters quell'd
Have given me a right to share his weakness.
And if my pride of heart must needs be humbled,
Aricia should have been the last to tame it.
Was I beside myself to have forgotten
Eternal barriers of separation
Between us? By my father's stern command
Her brethren's blood must ne'er be reinforced

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