This tiny and pretty book was conceived, as Lorenzo Braccesi states in his foreword (p. 9) as a “reinterpretation” (“rivisitazione”) of Aeschylus’ famous historical tragedy, a sort of third way between a translation focussed on the Greek original—and therefore indifferent to the aesthetic quality of the final result—and an original piece of poetry taking Persae only as a remote starting point. Although the author’s programme is stated very briefly—as is everything else in the book, presumably for the sake of giving the floor to the poet—the reader can set it against the backdrop of a wider and more complex discussion of recurrent issues in translation (what is the aim of a translation? how should a translation posit itself before the literary qualities of the original?). Braccesi’s idea is that a poetic translation in the most popular metres of Italian poetry (eleven- and seven-syllable metres), freed from any rhyme or stanzaic constraints, can effect a reinterpretation as previously defined. In order to provide the reader with an adequate historical perspective, Braccesi articulates his book in two parts. The first, a kind of introduction, is labelled “Introductory summaries” (literally “Introductory cards”, “Schede introduttive”). These deal with seven topics, which I translate: 1. The invincible army; 2. Two antithetical worlds; 3. Water as decisive factor in the victory; 4. Aeschylus and Athens; 5. A mother and a wife; 6. Darius, the regretted king; 7. Xerxes, the cowardly king. Part two consists of Braccesi’s translation.
In the introductory part, the author identifies the key themes in the play. The huge Persian army, made up of naval and pedestrian forces, although never present on stage, looms large in the anxieties and reactions of those left behind, i.e. the chorus of Persian noblemen and councillors, and the Queen-mother. Braccesi, taking advantage of his solid and long-standing familiarity with historical sources and the Greek classical period, focusses his attention on the catalogue of Persian forces contained in the parodos (although he does not use such technical terms). He takes note of the pervasiveness of the yoke image throughout the play. He also pays attention to the opposition of armament, i.e. bow vs. spear, a visual emblem of several other oppositions (Persian vs. Greek, eastern vs. western, mass-based strength vs. individual valour, etc.). Gold is another visual marker of the Persian way of life which the poet exploits. After the news of disaster has come home, the catalogue of excellent warriors is reversed into the catalogue of casualties. All this is emphasised by Braccesi.
In the second section, Braccesi addresses the several ways in which the tragedy articulates the opposition between Persians and Greeks at different levels (warfare, political constitution and territorial configuration). In section 3 the author, while dealing with descriptions of Persian destruction through water, touches on a recurrent opposition, namely darkness vs. daylight, the former being associated to Persian threat, the latter with Greek reaction and upper hand. He also discusses the disastrous passing of the river Strymon by the Persian army as they hastened to the Hellespont in their retreat march. Although the episodes may be an imaginative invention by Aeschylus, Braccesi reminds us that, according to Herodotus (8.115.1), the Persians crossed the Strymon sometime between late October and early November; this would account for the Messenger’s stress on the phenomenon being “out of season” (496). However, the author puts forward the hypothesis that those Persians had a pause by the Strymon and then resumed their march in winter. If that was the case, then Aeschylus may not have falsified the episode at all but merely placed it in autumn as a prodigy of divine origin. Section 4 is more devoted to the issue of Aeschylus’ own political and ideological stand as shown by Persae. Braccesi has no qualms about interpreting this tragedy as a celebration of Themistocles’ far-sighted policy about providing Athens with a large navy, and tactical masterpiece, i.e. the battle of Salamis. The author takes these objective facts as signs of Aeschylus himself having supported that policy and its consequences, i.e. the newly born Delio-Attic League, in opposition to Cimon. (This would account for the fewer mentions of the battle of Marathon achieved by Cimon’s father, Miltiades.) In section 5, Braccesi highlights the role of the Queen as one grounded not only on maternal love, but also on dynastic concerns. Section 6 discusses the figure of Darius as an ideal monarch vs. Xerxes, the despicable king. By recalling some historical facts passed over in silence in the play (Darius’s own imperialism, also westward; his resorting to pontoon bridges; his ruling over Greeks), Braccesi shows how idealized Darius’ figure is. In the final section, the author emphasises Xerxes’ cowardly behaviour, particularly how he tears his robe and weeps when confronted with disaster.
Braccesi’s new poetic translation into Italian (Part 2) is a kind of work which can neither be summarized nor discussed as a piece of scholarship. Braccesi should nevertheless be congratulated for the translation’s smoothness and fundamental, i.e. not literal, adherence to the original. Only occasionally does a line display poor rhythm (e.g. l. 46 “Menfi, quindi il reggente Ariòmardo”, where the metre, eleven-syllable ending with a parola sdrucciola, scans if one twice accepts absence of synaloephe, i.e. two hiatuses). Only occasionally is a word choice objectionable on grounds of register (ll. 272-3 “il padre lo commisera / lì materializzatosi all’istante”); only occasionally does the classical scholar prevail upon the author of a “reinterpretation” (l. 1347 “trenodico cantare”) [the emphasis is mine]. Another objection is that the translation, by omitting any indication of stage movements or scenery, hardly induces the readers to stage the play in the theatre of their minds. At the same time, the distinction is lost between spoken utterances by the chorus-leader and sung parts by the whole chorus, though the exact delivery of marching anapaests is debated.
To turn to a critical evaluation of the Introduction, which I have briefly summarized above, it should be clear that Braccesi is a traditionally minded scholar inclined to text-based discussion. He is keen on the historical side of Persae as well on the poetical one. His remarks on the most important issues in the play are intelligent and worth reading. However, as an Aeschylean scholar I have found a few aspects of this work somewhat disappointing. First, the dramatic, i.e. theatrical, dimension of Persae is utterly neglected. Second, the section on the ideological purport of the play labours under methodological naiveness. The play may have been relevant to political issues of spring 472 B.C., and even have gone a certain way toward pleasing the choregos, young Pericles, and his political group, at a time when Themistocles was under attack. Yet, this does not mean that Aeschylus shared all of that group’s ideas, or that his plays consistently sided with the radical democracy its members favoured. Braccesi also seems to miss the complexity of attitudes to Persians likely roused in the audience by the play: both human pity and nationalistic pride, or even contempt, at the same time. Marathon is left in the background, but it is misleading to state that it is almost passed under silence (pp. 31-2). Although Braccesi does not aim at a full-scale study of Persae, he cannot dispense with discussing several points and in so doing he sets himself in a somewhat out-of-date discourse. One thinks of what Aeschylean studies looked like before the stage dimension was discovered as essential[1] or before the issue of self-representation through the definition of the other was argued to be a fundamental component in Greek tragedy[2]. Insisting on recurrent images was a popular trend in Aeschylean scholarship from the 1950s to ’70s.[3] Detecting the playwright’s conviction in utterances by characters or chorus brings back a long past approach.[4] By showing little interest for the theological interpretation of events, Braccesi does not take sides in respect to studies on such broad issue;[5] nor does he react to criticism focussed on the role of the chorus in orienting the emotional response of the audience.[6] On the whole, the author does not declare his own standing in regard to Aeschylean scholarship of the last 50 years, not even in the areas in which he is most interested (politics and imagery). Nor does he seem to take into account previous editions of Persae, with or without commentary.[7] (The author does not indicate which edition was the basis for his translation.)
A general objection to Braccesi’s work is the following. It appears that the author has not considered properly the audience his book is aimed at. A translation for the general public, free from any burden of scholarship may very well do; but then one may wish to dispense from Greek at all, whereas Braccesi loves to quote the original text, albeit transliterated. If, on the other hand, such book is aimed at undergraduates and other people with a certain command of Greek, it would be a good idea to provide them with a more comprehensive introduction and some tools for further study, such as a select bibliography.[8]
To conclude, we should be grateful to Braccesi for providing us with a beautiful Italian translation of Persae, despite some minor flaws in the general conception of the book.
Notes
[1] Thanks to O. Taplin, The stagecraft of Aeschylus: The dramatic use of exits and entrances in Greek tragedy, Oxford 1977: Clarendon Press.
[2] One thinks of a groundbreaking study: E. Hall, Inventing the barbarian: Greek self-definition through tragedy, Oxford 1989: Clarendon Press.
[3] E.g. B.L. Hughes, The dramatic use of imagery in Aeschylus, Ph.D. thesis, Bryn Mawr College, Bryn Mawr (PA) 1955; J.A. Haldane, Musical themes and imagery in Aeschylus, “The Journal of Hellenic Studies” 85 (1965): 33-41; A. Lebeck, The Oresteia: A study in language and structure, Cambridge (MA) / Oxford 1971: Harvard University Press / Oxford University Press; E. Petrounias, Funktion und Thematik der Bilder bei Aischylos, Göttingen 1976: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht.
[4] Cf. e.g. G. Thomson, Aeschylus and Athens: A study in the social origins of drama, London 19734 (19411): Lawrence & Wishart; L.A. Post, The political background of Aeschylean tragedy, Ann Arbour (MI) 19961: University of Michigan Press (London 19992: Bloomsbury Academic). For an updated overview of the problem see e.g. G.W. Most, Greek tragedy and the discourse of politics, in Philosophie für die Polis. Akten des 5. Kongresses der Gesellschaft für antike Philosophie 2016, Berlin / Boston 2019: De Gruyter: 87-92.
[5] See e.g. R. Bees, Aischylos: Interpretationen zum Verständnis seiner Theologie, München 2009: Beck.
[6] See M.A. Gruber, Der Chör in den Tragödien des Aischylos: Affekt und Reaktion, Tübingen 2009: G. Narr.
[7] To mention but few: H.D. Broadhead, ed., Aeschylus. Persae, Cambridge 1960: Cambrideg University Press; A.F. Garvie, ed., Aeschylus: Persae, Oxford 2009: Oxford University Press; M.L. West, ed., Aeschyli tragoediae cum incerti poetae Prometheo, Stuttgart 1998: Teubner.
[8] I have noticed only few misprints: “ybris” instead of “hybris” (pp. 28, 39, 43), “Dörikoîsin” instead of “Dōrikoîsin” (p. 33), “Tino” repeated twice (p. 41), “dl” instead of “del” (p. 81, l. 907), “rapido” instead of “rapida” (p. 89, l. 1085).