Joanna Pypłacz

The aim of this article is to reveal the connection between Cilissa’s speech in the Choephoroi and the infamous speech made by Apollo in the Eumenides. The analysis shows that if these two passages are treated separately, the former would seem to be a comic interlude that has been randomly inserted into the text, while the latter would seem to be weird, convoluted and even downright outrageous. However, if they are juxtaposed and analysed together as two chapters of Aeschylus’ explanation of the nature of motherhood, they become one sensible statement about the fact that mother is much more than a parent in the technical sense of the term.

While the speeches of Cilissa and Apollo simply cast light on the issue of responsible motherhood and also on the harmful effects of ‘outsourcing’ the care of newborn children in ancient Greece, the fact that the link between these two speeches has been overlooked makes their interpretation very problematic, as do the failings of contemporary criticism, these being the anachronic approach and also the fact that translations are treated on a par with (or, sadly, given preference to) the original text, thus giving Aeschylus the undeserved reputation of being a ‘sexist’ or ‘misogynistic’ poet.

Fertilis in mortes: Lucan’s Medusa and Milton’s Sin

This article attempts to show whether, and if so, to what extent, John Milton’s portrayal of Sin in Paradise Lost is underlain by Lucan’s so-called “Medusa excursus”. Scholars have shown beyond reasonable doubt that Milton’s depiction of Sin alludes to one particular English hypotext, namely Edmund Spenser’s Faerie Queene. However, although the Lucanian character of Milton’s epic is now generally acknowledged, the “Medusa excursus” has, to date, not been considered to be a possible Latin hypotext for Milton’s depiction of Sin.
Leaving aside the indisputable similarities between Spenser’s Error and Milton’s Sin, the author shows that for all their apparent differences, Sin and Medusa actually have much more in common than it would seem at first glance. Firstly, both monsters are allegories of some primeval evil that, having set in motion a never-ending process of destruction, is portrayed as being a deadly, oxymoronic fertility that brings forth death instead of life. The morbid procreative prolificacy of both Medusa and Sin is triggered by a crime, which, once it has violated their bodies, renders them eternally “fertile in death”. While Medusa, having been mutilated by Perseus, posthumously “gives birth” to poisonous snakes, Sin, violated by Satan, literally becomes the mother of Death.
Although it is highly likely that the motif of monstrous fertility has itself been taken directly from Spenser, it would seem that Milton may also have been inspired by Lucan. The name of Cerberus, which is present in Milton and Lucan, but absent in Spenser, is a telling detail. Milton’s depiction of Death, which is described as being shapeless and similar to a substance, brings to mind Medusa’s poisonous blood. The subsequent rape of Sin by Death results in the birth of a pack of infernal dogs. This element also follows the Lucanian pattern of a crime triggering a deadly procreation by a wronged party.
Interestingly, Spenser’s depiction of Error itself contains certain motifs (for example that of “black poison” or that of the killing of a monster by a warrior) that are also present in Lucan’s Medusa excursus. This, together with some possible allusions to Hesiod’s legend of the rape of Medusa, as well as Ovid’s account of Scylla, leads us to conclude that the relationship between the discussed passages of Paradise Lost and their Lucanian and Spenserian hypotexts are quite complex, as they seem to reflect a process of elaborate contamination.
It is shown that Lucan’s depiction of Medusa may also have inspired Spenser himself. The connection between the portrayals of Medusa and Sin is not limited to the seemingly vague and superficial similarities that mainly concern the physical appearance of the two monsters, but is deeply rooted in the moral concept of a crime that triggers a perpetuum mobile of destruction. Although Milton and Spenser both share Lucan’s idea that one wrong leads to the “birth” of innumerable wrongs, only Milton consistently follows this line of thought by providing his monster with horrendous procreative powers that are also eternal and (literally) deadly. Seen against the background of Milton’s familiarity with the work and ideas of the Roman poet, it would seem that all the similarities between Sin and Medusa are far too striking to be attributable to mere coincidence.

 

The present article gives a rough outline of Lucan’s use of alliteration by attempting to discover the most important functions of this particular rhetorical device in his epic. For the sake of clarity, the instances of alliteration that are found in the epic are divided into three groups: ‘pure’ (of one and the same consonant), ‘mixed’ (of two or more consonants) and ‘combined’ (accompanied by other rhetorical devices). Lucan’s use of alliteration is shown to extend far beyond the achievement of an instantaneous sound effect at the level of a single line or even a single passage. In several cases, alliteration is used as a means of association in order to allow the poet to connect passages that seemingly have nothing in common. This in turn leads to the conclusion that Lucan’s compositional scheme – based on allusions and association – is present even at the level of the phoneme.
 

In the present article I have attempted to investigate the sources of inspiration for Boccaccio’s Nastagio degli Onesti, with its peculiar motif of an infernal hunt. It is precisely this motif that links the story with the ancient myth of Acthaeon, a theme much-loved in art and literature since the Metamorphoses of Ovid.
It appears that this myth was the source of a mediaeval legend about an infernal hunt, which had been told by Helinandus Frigidi Montis and later translated into Italian by Jacopo Passavanti. As scholars have pointed out, this translation was in all probability Boccaccio’s primary source of inspiration. In my analysis, I have shown that – on the one hand – Boccaccio associated the motif of an infernal hunt in that story with Ovid’s version of the myth of Acthaeon and – on the other hand – he connected the motif of winning a lady’s heart by means of a terrible exemplum with the myth of Vortumnus and Pomona, which he also knew from the Metamorphoses. Moreover, it seems almost certain that the characteristic ring composition of Boccaccio’s novel was derived directly from this very story.
Nastagio degli Onesti is therefore a highly intertextual novel in which Boccaccio merged three separate sources: two distinct myths told by Ovid in the Metamorphoses and Helinandus-Passavanti’s version of a mediaeval legend, which was probably a direct continuation of one of  them.