Of all ancient poetic genres, the hyporchema is perhaps the most obscure. The fragments are sparse and interpretatively fraught. The testimonia tantalize, often insisting that the genre was characterized by a distinctive combination of dance and words, but providing too little evidence on which to build sure reconstructions. In presenting his text of the testimonia and the fragments, the latter supplied with a metrical analysis and commentary, Recchia approaches these problems with familiar tools skilfully wielded, and the result is a book that all students of early Greek poetry will find useful.
The book’s strengths are exemplified by its numerous illuminating philological discussions. Typical is the treatment of ἀγωνίῳ … ποδί (Pi. fr. 107a.2–3 M), which canvasses different possibilities for the sense of the adjective (competition between choruses, competition within a single chorus, or competition between the animals imitated and their prey) and adjudicates thoughtfully on them (171). Addressing μεγαλάνορος Ἡσυχίας (Pi. fr. 109.2 M), Recchia convincingly argues for the sense ‘which makes men great’ (125, pace e.g. Race’s ‘proud’). The discussion of ἐχθρὰν κουροτρόφον in the same fragment features a deft discussion of the possible use of the phrase by Arcesilas of Pitane (Plut. fr. 152 Sandbach = Stob. 4.32a.17).[1] Another highlight is the account of Dionysius of Halicarnassus’ citation of Bacchylides frs 15-15a Maehler (152–5).
The introduction gives an overview of the genre and deals sensibly with various evidential problems. Recchia notes that hyporchemata seem no longer to have been performed in the Hellenistic period, meaning that scholars would not have been able to rely on experience when adjudicating on generic attributions (8), and plausibly suggests that the hyporchema’s lowly position in the Hellenistic hierarchy of poetic genres εἰς θεούς results from its including praise of mortals (18). The genre’s connections with Crete (18–20), the composition of the chorus (27–31), its metrical features (31–4), and the question of whether the dance elements of individual songs are likely to have been uniformly mimetic (25) all receive sure-footed treatment. In discussing testimonia such as the citation by Athenaeus of Plato Comicus, fr. 138 K-A (14.628d-e = Chamaeleon fr. 42 Wehrli), and Athenaeus’ definition of the ‘hyporchematic style’ as an ‘imitation of the actions which are are expressed in the words’ (1.15d), which may derive from Peripatetic sources, Recchia argues that fourth century writers were already idealizing the hyporchema of the early classical period and contrasting it favourably with contemporary debasements (23–4).[2]
Such considerations are also relevant to the question of whether hyporchematic dances were comic, or partially so, in tone and content. The key evidence here is Athenaeus 14.630c-e, which is thought to preserve a discussion by Aristoxenus (fr. 103 Wehrli), and which compares the hyporchema to the ‘comic’ dance. Di Marco finds Athenaeus’ account of comic elements out of kilter with the tone of the extant fragments and therefore likely to have been influenced by later forms of dance, especially the pantomime. Recchia objects and points out that, if the passage does reflect Aristoxenus’ views, such influences will not have affected the claims being made. The passage therefore reflects the views of an author ‘bene informato’ about contemporary (classical) performance practices (27). If we take the view Recchia advocates, however, more weight should be given to the schematic structure of the argument as determinative for the statements advanced about individual genres. As the initial claims make clear (τρεῖς δ’ εἰσὶ τῆς σκηνικῆς ποιήσεως ὀρχήσεις … ὁμοίως δὲ καὶ τῆς λυρικῆς ποιήσεως τρεῖς … ), the generically clear-cut dramatic dances provide a framework for assessing those of lyric: a genre needs to be paired with the ‘comic’, and the hyporchema is the obvious candidate. This is not to discount Recchia’s observation, but rather to suggest that classificatory decisions, even by scholars such as Aristoxenus, might have been influenced as much by argumentative exigencies as by access to relevant realia.[3]
Recchia also addresses issues of attribution or interpretation. The concluding part of the introduction (39-45) deals with PMG 708, which Athenaeus attributes to a hyporchema by Pratinas. Recchia argues, with caution, that it is best identified as a hyporchema (42-3) and, more firmly, that Pratinas is its author (44-5). In the face of arguments that attribute the fragment to a satyr play, Recchia suggests that the attack on the aulos would make little dramatic sense given the importance of the instrument to that genre.[4] In favour of the hyporchema hypothesis, Recchia detects ‘una certa proporzionalità tra il testo e la coreografia’ (43) in ἀν᾿ ὄρεα σύμενον μετὰ Ναϊάδων (4), which he suggests might have been accompanied by a mimetic movement, and in imperatival phrases such as παῖε (10) and φλέγε (12), which he argues could have corresponded with ‘gesti ostili nei confronti dell’ auleta’.
A less conservative decision is to argue that fr. 107a-b M should be counted amoug the fragmenta incerti auctoris, rather than being assigned to Pindar as it has been by most modern editors. Plutarch quotes the fragment without attribution (Quaest. Conv. 9.15.748b), but scholars have tended to find in the celebration of the lines’ author as ‘the one who appears to have been most successful in hyporchemata’ (ὁ μάλιστα κατωρθωκέναι δόξας ἐν ὑπορχήμασι), together with the apparently Pindaric cast of some of the language (documented by Recchia, 165), sufficient grounds for assigning it to Pindar. Recchia objects that the metrical style is remote from Pindar’s (166), pointing out that the fragment includes a mixture of cola that do not occur elsewhere in the poet’s oeuvre. He finds the most likely referent of the debated καμπύλον μέλος διώκων (3) to be the poem’s metrical variegation (172–3), a reading which he supports with reference to the frequent use of καμπή and its cognates in the poetry of the later fifth century (167). These associations, in Recchia’s view, cast doubt on Pindaric authorship (167). Quite aside from the possibility of interpreting in other ways, however,[5] it might be objected that connecting καμπύλον with late classical use does not in itself rule out an attribution to Pindar (or indeed Simonides), because the term could be an early instance of self-referential lexis that later poets were to develop.
More doubtful is the argument mounted on the basis of Plutarch’s description of the lines’ author as γεγονέναι πιθανώτατος ἑαυτοῦ [sc. ἐν ὑπορχήμασι]. Recchia translates the phrase ‘e aver dato il meglio di sé in questo genere poetico’ (164), and argues that it is unlikely to refer to Pindar, because it would not make sense to say of him that ‘“diede il meglio di sé” nel comporre iporchemi’, because ‘la sua fama doveva essere legata maggiormente ad altri generi poetici’ (165). But the sense of the phrase is ‘was at his most convincing’,[6] and its sense here is clarified by the rest of Plutarch’s discussion. That dance can ‘convince’ by itself is indicated at the outset of the conversation, when Ammonius describes his brother’s performance of the pyrriche (ὠρχήσατο γὰρ πιθανῶς τὴν πυρρίχην, 747b1–2). Before introducing the quotation from the hyporchema, Ammonius argues that the genre is the one which ‘especially’ (μάλιστα) combines orchestic and poetic elements into a compound μίμησις that is ‘a single work’ (ἓν ἔργον, 748a10, 11). Because successful μίμησις produces ‘conviction’,[7] and because the hyporchema consists of dance and language combined to produce an especially cogent μίμησις, the implication of πιθανώτατος ἑαυτοῦ is that this mode of composition enabled the author to be ‘at his most convincing’. Therefore, the phrasing of γεγονέναι πιθανώτατος ἑαυτοῦ by itself does not indicate whether this author was Pindar or not, although the absence elsewhere of judgements that make Pindar into a master of this genre may well incline readers to side with Recchia’s view.
Another controversy that Recchia addresses is the status of ‘the Castoreion’ at Pyth. 2.67–71. Addressing the much-debated question of whether the Castoreion should be understood as a reference to Pythian 2 itself or to the hyporchema for Hiero of which fragments survive (fr. 105a-b M, and perhaps fr. 106 M: for Recchia’s discussion of the latter and tentative attribution of it to the same poem, see 97–8), Recchia argues for the second interpretation, following the reading of the scholia and the judgement of numerous modern critics (84). His reading of the μέν / δέ construction at Pyth. 2.67–9 (‘un valore fortemente oppositivo, che lascia transparire in modo chiaro il rimando a due carmi separati e distinti’, 84) in my view underplays the complexity of syntax which has read otherwise by (among others) Schroeder, Carey, and Most.[8]
Recchia also supports the scholia’s identification of ‘the Castoreion’ with the hyporchema by pointing out that the scholia could base their identifications on ‘una conoscenza dell’intera opera pindarica che a noi invece è preclusa’ (85) and should, on Recchia’s account, incline us to take their identifications seriously. Perhaps, but it should also be noted that there is nothing in the scholia’s gloss on ‘the Castoreion’ to suggest that the text of the hyporchema made its identification with the Castoreion secure.
In grappling with the evidential and interpretative problems posed by hyporchemata, Recchia has done the discipline a considerable service in presenting the evidence clearly and analysing it with care. Disagreements about detail aside, this is a fine book and ought to be on the reading list of anyone interested in this beguiling genre.
Notes
[1] Previous commentary on the phrase, by Boeckh and Schneider, is canvassed at p. 128 n. 2.
[2] Cf. M. di Marco ‘Osservazioni sull’iporchema’, Helikon 13-14 (1973/4), 334.
[3] The testimonia, and in particular those which connect the hyporchema with dramatic performance, would have benfitted from more thorough treatment.
[4] One would like to see here a response to the dramaturgical possibilities that H. W. Garrod canvassed in his reading of the fragment in ‘The Hyporcheme of Pratinas’, CR 34 (1920), 134–5.
[5] For alternative possibilities and doxography, see G. B. D’Alessio, ‘Dancing with the Dogs: Mimetic Dance and the Hyporcheme (on Pindar fr. *107 M = Simonides fr. 255 Poltera)’, in P. Agócs and L. Prauscello (eds) Simonides Lyricus: Essays on the ‘Other’ Classical Choral Lyric Poet (Cambridge, 2020), 74.
[6] Cf. e.g. G. B. D’Alessio’s rendering: ‘aver raggiunto il suo massimo grado di persuasività negli iporchemi’ (‘Sul testo di Pind. (?) fr. 107a S-M (= Simonide fr. 255 Poltera)’, in F. C. Bizzarro, M. Lamagna, and G. Massimila (eds) Studi greci e latini per Giuseppina Matino, Naples, 2020, 101–12, p. 103). I am grateful to Julene Abad Del Vecchio for discussion of this point. For the connection between πιθανότης and μίμησις in Plutarch, and further discussion of the phrase, see D’Alessio (n. 6) 63.
[7] For the connection between πιθανότης and μίμησις in Plutarch, and further discussion of the phrase, see D’Alessio (n. 6) 63.
[8] My own views: ‘Epinician Variations: Music and Text in Pindar, Pythians 2 and 12’, CQ 63.1 (2013), 45–8. Both camps continue to garner judicious champions: see now P. Wilson, ‘Dancing for Free: Pindar’s Kastor Song for Hieron’, ClA 38.2 (2019), 322–4, arguing that ‘the Castoreion’ is the hyporchema; H. Spelman, Pindar and the Poetics of Permanence (Oxford, 2018) 229 n. 32, doubting that ‘the Castoreion’ refers to a song other than Pythian 2.