Part 3 (1/2)

Direct me thither, set thy father there.

Let not that dreadful seat be empty long, But place me there a greater monster still.

There will I sit and of my fate propose A riddle dark that no man shall resolve.

What riddle like to this could she propose, That curse of Thebes, who wove destructive words In puzzling measures? What so dark as this?

_He was his grandsire's son-in-law, and yet His father's rival; brother of his sons, And father of his brothers: at one birth The grandame bore unto her husband sons, And grandsons to herself_. Who can unwind A tangle such as this? E'en I myself, Who bore the spoils of triumph o'er the Sphinx, Stand mute before the riddle of my fate.

MILLER.

There is no need to multiply instances; each play will supply many. Only in the _Troades_[184] and the _Phaedra_ does this declamatory rhetoric rise to something higher than mere declamation and near akin to true poetry. In these plays there are two speeches standing on a different plane to anything else in Seneca's iambics. In the _Troades_ Agamemnon is protesting against the proposed sacrifice of Polyxena to the spirit of the dead Achilles (255).

quid caede dira n.o.biles clari ducis aspergis umbras? noscere hoc primum decet, quid facere victor debeat, victus pati.

violenta nemo imperia continuit diu, moderata durant; ...

magna momento obrui vincendo didici. Troia nos tumidos facit nimium ac feroces? stamus hoc Danai loco, unde illa cecidit. fateor, aliquando impotens regno ac superbus altius memet tuli; sed fregit illos spiritus haec quae dare potuisset aliis causa, Fortunae favor.

tu me superb.u.m, Priame, tu timidum facis.

ego esse quicquam sceptra nisi vano putem fulgore tectum nomen et falso comam vinclo decentem? casus haec rapiet brevis, nec mille forsan ratibus aut annis decem.

... fatebor ... affligi Phrygas vincique volui; ruere et aequari solo utinam arcuissem.

Why besmirch with murder foul the n.o.ble shade of that renowned chief? First must thou learn the bounds of a victor's power, of the vanquished's suffering. No man for long has held unbridled sway; only self-control may endure ... I myself have conquered and have learned thereby that man's mightiness may fall in the twinkling of an eye. Shall Troy o'erthrown exalt our pride and make us overbold? Here we the Danaans stand on the spot whence she has fallen. Of old, I own, I have borne myself too haughtily, self-willed and proud of my power. But Fortune's favour, which had made another proud, has broken my pride.

Priam, thou makest me proud, thou makest me tremble. I count the sceptre naught save a glory bright with worthless tinsel that sets the vain splendour of a crown upon my brow. All this the chance of one short hour may take from me without the aid of a thousand s.h.i.+ps and ten long years of siege ...

I will own my fault ... I desired to crush and conquer Troy.

Would I had forbidden to lay her low and raze her walls to the ground!

The thought is not deep: the speech might serve for a model for a _suasoria_ in the schools of rhetoric. But there is a stateliness and dignity about it that is most rare in these plays. At last after dreary tracts of empty rant we meet Seneca, the spiritual guide of the epistles and the treatises.

Far more striking, however, from the dramatic standpoint, are the great speeches in the _Phaedra_, where the heroine makes known her pa.s.sion for Hippolytus (600 sqq.). They are frankly rhetorical, but direct, pa.s.sionate, and to the point. They contain few striking lines or sentiments, but they are clear and comparatively free from affectation.

Theseus has maddened Phaedra by his infidelities, and has long been absent from her, imprisoned in the underworld. An uncontrollable pa.s.sion for her stepson has come upon her. She appeals to the unsuspecting Hippolytus for pity and protection (619):

muliebre non est regna tutari urbium; tu qui iuventae flore primaevo viges cives paterno fortis imperio rege, sinu receptam supplicem ac servam tege.

miserere viduae.

_Hipp_. Summus hoc omen deus avertat.

aderit sospes actutum parens.

'Tis no woman's task to rule cities. Do thou, strong in the flower of thy first youth, flinch not, but govern the state by the power thy father held. Take me and s.h.i.+eld me in thy bosom, thy suppliant and thy slave! Pity thy father's widow.

_Hipp_. Nay, high heaven avert the omen. Soon shall my father return unscathed.

Phaedra then begins to show her true colours. 'Nay!' she replies, 'he will not come. Pluto holds him fast, the would-be ravisher of his bride, unless indeed Pluto, like others I wot of, is indifferent to love.'

Hippolytus attempts to console her: he will do all in his power to make life easy for her:

et te merebor esse ne viduam putes ac tibi parentis ipse supplebo loc.u.m.

I shall prove me worthy of thee: so thou shalt not deem thyself a widow. I will fill up my absent father's room.

These innocent words are as fuel to Phaedra's pa.s.sion. She turns to him again appealing for pity, pity for an ill she dare not name--

quod in novercam cadere vix credas malum.