The distinction usually made between classicism and romanticism is that they represent, respectively, reason and passion. Phaedra, as the play and this scene in particular demonstrate, is as passionate as any romantic heroine. However, there is a significant difference. The classical heroine, in the midst of the most violent transports, retains a complete lucidity. In spite of the trauma of her confession, Phaedra noted with the utmost precision Hippolytus' humiliating reaction. She was perfectly aware of his embarrassment, his evasiveness, and his indifference to her threat of suicide.
She also refuses to rationalize her own emotions. She admits with a kind of masochistic violence the full, inexcusable madness of her love. In the context of her lucidity, Phaedra's surrender to her passions acquires a special horror. She is now beyond shame as she systematically attempts to capitalize on Hippolytus' weaknesses: his ambition and his pity. She will now go to him without his reciprocal love.
Scene 2, in addition to formalizing Phaedra's moral degradation, indicates Racine's Greek inspiration. The play seems to be based squarely on a conflict between a protesting human being and a vindictive deity.
In Scene 3, Oendne, who from the beginning was more than a simple confidante, now acquires extraordinary force. She is a veritable female Iago, cunningly trying to convince Phaedra that she should commit another unspeakable crime: the slander of Hippolytus. To prepare Phaedra for this betrayal and to dissuade her from suicide, Oenone takes the unusual step of reinforcing her fears. She agrees that Phaedra's suicide would be tantamount to an admission of guilt, with a concomitant disgrace for her children. Then Oenone makes the treacherous suggestion that Hippolytus be accused of trying to seduce his stepmother and she emphasizes the plausibility of the accusation. To overcome Phaedra's reluctance, she offers to do the distasteful deed herself. Finally, in rapid succession, Oenone plays on Phaedra's sense of decency by reassuring her of Theseus' indulgence toward his son, and her pride by holding out the specter of ruined honor.
Yet, evil though she is, Oenone lacks Iago's satanic quality. She does not seek the downfall of her mistress. Quite the contrary, she is motivated by an extraordinary, albeit misguided, love. If she uses every last bit of cunning, it is because she is fighting Phaedra's impending suicide and disgrace, an unbearable prospect.
Phaedra is perhaps more excusable than Oenone: She is listening to an insidious voice. In addition, like her other transgressions, this one too is unpremeditated. The shock of Theseus' sudden appearance, the visual reminder of her imminent exposure, tips the scales. Phaedra is not a monster, and Racine's frequent evocations of the words "monster" and "monstrous" in relation to her family and to the experiences of Hippolytus and Theseus is intended to evoke horror at her passion, but not at the woman herself. Indeed, in this section of the play Racine deliberately departs from his Greek original to sustain his conception of Phaedra as a tormented, but not an evil, woman. In Euripides, it is Phaedra herself who accuses Hippolytus in a letter she leaves behind after her suicide; here the murderous lie is the doing of Oenone.
There is a profound dramatic and psychological irony in the fact that neither woman supposes for a moment that Hippolytus will keep silent about what has passed, although in fact we have already seen him refuse to confide in Theramenes. Each woman is too conscious of her own guilt and of the punishment she deserves to envision such an act of purity and magnanimity.
