What Philostratus describes is a performance of young women in a sanctuary of Aphrodite. The chorus leader is skilled, beautiful, and still young, but a wrinkle heralds old age. The statue of Aphrodite is lifelike, too. At this point the speaker apostrophizes his readers, asking if they want to pour a libation of words on the altar, for the altar has already enough frankincense and cinnamon and myrrh, it has a fragrance of Sappho. Once again, the painter is praised for the vividness of the painting which enables the viewers to hear the young choreuts singing. One of them is off-tune. The chorodidaskalos frowns at her, claps her hands, and ably brings her back into tune. A description of the appearance of the young choreuts follows: they are barefoot, they wear close-fitting girdles and colorful garments, their chitons are loose so as to not constrict their movement. They are beautiful. Paris or any other judge would have a hard time to choose the best, because they rival one another in looks and “honeyed voice” (μελίφωνοι). The speaker hastens to add that this is Sappho’s expression. The envisaged hypothetical contest is not based on looks only, but on looks, movement, and voice. The emphasis on the sound is further strengthened by the assertion that Eros is playing along with them and producing harmonious notes by striking his bow. The description of the painting ends with the subject of the song-dance. The eroticized choreuts sing and dance the birth of the goddess of love. The Philostratean ekphrasis goes far beyond a vivid description of a choral performance. It is a successful attempt to reproduce the irresistible visual, aural, and olfactory appeal of choreia, Sappho-style. The Philostratean image of Sappho as a chorodidaskalos gains further support from an epigram in the Palatine Anthology (9.189) that depicts the poet as chorus leader (3–4) and to a reference in Aulus Gellius to choruses of boys and girls performing Sappho’s and Anacreon’s poetry.28
Sappho was not the only poet to express the frustration of the aging chorodidaskalos. Antigonus of Carystus (Mir. 23 [27] p. 8 Keller) quotes some lines from one of Alcman’s songs and asserts that the aging speaker who complains about his heavy knees that no longer support him is Alcman himself.29 In contrast to Sappho, however, who laments the inevitability of old age, Alcman expresses the wish that he were a bird:
No longer, honey-toned, strong-voiced (or holy-voiced) girls can my limbs carry me. If only, if only I were a cerylus, who flies along with the halcyons over the flower of the wave with resolute heart, strong (or holy) sea-blue bird.30
How seriously these statements are to be taken is unclear. It is possible that they are hyperbolic, meant to elicit compliments for the fitness of chorodidaskaloi past their prime.
An agonistic epigram usually dated to the Hellenistic period extolls the fitness of Simonides at the age of 80 and turns the image of the aging chorodidaskalos’ feebleness upside down (XXVIII Page):
Adeimantus was archon in Athens when the Antiochid tribe won the intricately-made tripod; one Aristides, son of Xenophilus, was choregos of the chorus of fifty men who had learned well; and for their training glory (κῦδος) came the way of Simonides, son of Leoprepes, at the age of eighty. (ὀγδωκονταέτει παιδὶ Λεωπρεπέος)
Simonides may have been an exception, of course, but his age was not perceived as a problem by the members of the Antiochid tribe, who trusted him to compose and train a chorus for a dithyrambic contest.31 The epigram offers us a valuable glimpse into choral training privileging the outcome: Simonides’ disciples are said to have learnt well.
In a charming epinician, the Fourteenth Olympian Ode, Pindar lets the male choreuts speak of their training (13–20):
O queen Aglaia, and you Euphrosyne, lover of song-dance, children of the mightiest of the gods, hear me now – and may you, Thalia, lover of song-dance, look with favour upon this lightly stepping revel-group that celebrates kindly fortune. For having practiced (ἐν μελέταις) I have come to sing of Asopichus in Lydian mode, since the land of the Minyae is victorious at Olympia because of you.32
The honorand Asopichus competed in the category of boys. The choreuts celebrating his victory were probably also boys of his age. They designate themselves as a komos, they draw attention to their light step and to the practice they have done in order to come and celebrate their friend’s Olympic victory.33 This charming song, a cross between a hymn and an epinician, conjures up the ancient sanctuary of the Charites in Orchomenos where the chorus of boys perform in the goddesses’ presence.34 Despite the reference to choral practice, it is worth noting that Pindar chose not to mention a chorodidaskalos in this instance.
In contrast, in the Sixth Olympian, an epinician for the Syracusan Hagesias, Pindar mentions Aeneas, a chorodidaskalos whom he compliments for his skills (87–91):
Now, Aeneas, urge your companions first to celebrate Hera the Maiden, and then to know if by our truthful words we escape the age-old taunt of “Boeotian pig,” for you are a true messenger, a message stick of the fair-haired Muses, a sweet mixing bowl of loudly ringing songs.
Space considerations do not allow a detailed account of several important issues raised by Pindar’s request to Aeneas, so I shall limit myself to the ancient scholiasts’ explanation:
For this Aeneas was the chorodidaskalos, whom Pindar used because he was weak-voiced and could not lead the choruses by himself in public, which most of the poets and especially those who had strong voices used to do when they participated in contests, teaching the choruses themselves. (Σ ad Olymp. 6. 148a)35
The scholiasts had no way to know if Pindar was weak-voiced nor do they cite their authority. They probably deduced this conclusion from Pindar’s compliment to Aeneas that he is a “mixing bowl of loud ringing songs” (γλυκὺς κρατὴρ ἀγαφθέγκτων ἀοιδᾶν). If there was any grain of truth in this contention, we would expect Pindar to address the chorodidaskaloi he used more often. As it happens, the request is extremely rare, if not unique.36 Besides, it is hard to believe that Pindar would have such success in the dithyrambic contests in Athens if he was unable to teach choruses. Delegation of chorodidaskalia must have been common practice for poets of Panhellenic stature. Poets in high demand must have traveled a lot, but even so it would be impossible to train all choruses in all cities which had commissioned song-dances.
Pindar must have trusted Aeneas whom he praises for being a faithful messenger, a message stick of the lovely-haired Muses. Turned on its head Pindar’s compliment reveals the anxiety that poets must have felt when they sent their songs to be performed under the supervision of people they did not know. This is why it is hard to imagine that poets like Pindar and Simonides would risk competition by proxy in prestigious contests. Simonides’ decision to train the Antiochid tribe at an advanced age shows that he was not prepared to delegate this task to somebody else and risk his success at a prestigious contest.37
Our evidence shows that more often than not the roles of chorodidaskalos and chorus leader (choragos) were distinct. In Athens, for instance, in the dithyrambic and dramatic contests the chorus leader was called the coryphaeus, whereas the term chorēgos was used of the producer of the show.38 Beyond Athens our evidence is scant. In Alcman’s Louvre partheneion the chorus leader is Hagesichora. In all likelihood she, her second in command Agido, and the other members of the parthenaic chorus were trained by Alcman. In the archaic period choral instruction had a pedagogical dimension that went far beyond preparation for a certain performance.39 The pedagogical dimension of choreia was later succinctly formulated by Plato’s: ὁ … ἀπαίδευτος ἀχόρευτος, “the uneducated man is one without choral training,” (Laws