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  As several scholars have remarked, it is thus one of Delphi’s many ironies that the Pythian priestesses—the women central to a process that was supposed to give clarity to difficult decisions in the ancient world—have taken the secret of that process to their graves and left us instead with such an opaque view of this crucial ancient institution. In such a situation, the only option is to produce a fairly static snapshot of what we know was a changing oracular process at Delphi over its more than one thousand–year history; a snapshot that is both a compilation of sources from different times and places (with all the accompanying difficulties such an account brings) and one that inevitably takes a particular stance on a number of conflicting and unresolvable issues.

  The oracle at Delphi was a priestess, known as the Pythia. We know relatively little about individual Pythias, or about how and why they were chosen.5 Most of our information comes from Plutarch, a Greek writing in the first century AD, who came from a city not far from Delphi and served as one of the priests in the temple of Apollo (there was an oracular Pythian priestess at the temple of Apollo, but also priests—more on the latter later). The Pythia had to be a Delphian, and Plutarch tells us that in his day the woman was chosen from one of the “soundest and most respected families to be found in Delphi.” Yet this did not mean a noble family; in fact, Plutarch’s Pythia had “always led an irreproachable life, although, having been brought up in the homes of poor peasants, when she fulfils her prophetic role she does so quite artlessly and without any special knowledge or talent.”6 Once chosen, the Pythia served Apollo for life and committed herself to strenuous exercise and chastity. At some point in the oracle’s history, possibly by the fourth century BC and certainly by AD 100, she was given a house to live in, which was paid for by the sanctuary. Plutarch laments that while in previous centuries the sanctuary was so busy that they had to use three Pythias at any one time (two regular and one understudy), in his day one Pythia was enough to cope with the dwindling number of consultants.7

  Diodorus Siculus (Diodorus “of Sicily”), who lived in the first century BC, tells us that originally the woman picked had also to be a young virgin. But this changed with Echecrates of Thessaly, who, coming to consult the Pythia, fell in love with her, carried her off, and raped her; thus the Delphians decreed that in the future the Pythia should be a woman of fifty years or older, but that she should continue, as Pythia, to wear the dress of a maiden in memory of the original virgin prophetess. Thus, it is thought not uncommon for women to have been married and to have been mothers before being selected as the Pythia, and, as a result, withdrawing from husbands and families to perform their role.8

  The Pythia was available for consultation only one day per month, thought to be the seventh day of each month because the seventh day of the month of Bysios—the beginning of spring (our March/April)—was considered Apollo’s birthday. Moreover, she was only available nine months of the year, since during the three winter months Apollo was considered absent from Delphi, and instead living with the Hyperboreans (a mythical people who lived at the very edges of the world). During this time, Delphi may have been oracle-less but was not god-less; instead the god Dionysus was thought to rule the sanctuary.9

  Despite this rather narrow window of opportunity for consultation—only nine days per year—there has been much discussion of the availability (and, indeed, popularity) of alternative forms of divination on offer at Delphi. In particular, scholars have debated the existence of a “lot” oracle: a system whereby a sanctuary official, perhaps the Pythia, would perform a consultation using a set of randomized (“lottery”) objects, which would be “read” to give a response to a particular question.10 Such a system of alternative consultation may also have been supplemented by a “dice” oracle performed at the Corycian cave high above Delphi (see figs. 0.2, 1.2), which from the sixth century BC onward, was an increasingly popular cult location for the god Pan and the Muses, and a firmly linked part of the “Delphic” itinerary and landscape.11

  On the nine days a year set aside for full oracular consultation, the day seems to have progressed as follows. The Pythia would head at dawn to bathe in the Castalian spring near the sanctuary (see fig. 0.2). Once purified, she would return to the sanctuary, probably accompanied by her retinue, and enter into the temple, where she would burn an offering of laurel leaves and barley meal to Apollo, possibly accompanied by a spoken homage to all the local deities (akin to that dramatized in the opening scene of the ancient Greek tragedy Eumenides by the playwright Aeschylus).12 Around the same time, however, the priests of the temple were responsible for verifying that even these rare days of consultation could go ahead. The procedure was to sprinkle cold water on a goat (which itself had to be pure and without defect), probably at the sacred hearth within the temple. If the goat shuddered, it indicated that Apollo was happy to be consulted. The goat would then be sacrificed on the great altar to Apollo outside the temple as a sign to all that the day was auspicious and the consultation would go ahead.13

  Figure 1.2. The Corycian cave from the outside (top) and inside (bottom), high above Delphi on a plateau of the Parnassian mountains (© Michael Scott)

  The consultants, who would have had to arrive probably some days before the appointed consultation day, would now play their part. They first had to purify themselves with water from the springs of Delphi. Next, they had to organize themselves according to the strict rules governing the order of consultation. Local Delphians always had first rights of audience. What followed them was a system of queuing that prioritized first Greeks whose city or tribe was part of Delphi’s supreme governing council (called the Amphictyony), then all other Greeks, and finally non-Greeks. But within each “section” (e.g., Amphictyonic Greeks), there was also a way to skip to the front, a system known as promanteia. Promanteia, the right “to consult the oracle [manteion] before [pro] others,” could be awarded to individuals or cities by the city of Delphi as an expression of the close relationship between them or as thanks for particular actions. Most famously, the island of Chios was awarded promanteia following its dedication of a new giant altar in the Apollo sanctuary (see fig. 1.3), on which they later inscribed, in a rather public way given that the queue very likely went past their altar, the fact that they had been awarded promanteia. If there were several consultants with promanteia within a particular section, their order was decided by lot, as was the order for everyone else within a particular section.14

  Figure 1.3. A reconstruction of the temple terrace, the area in front of the temple of Apollo in the Apollo sanctuary of Delphi, with main structures marked (© Michael Scott) 1 Delphi charioteer. 2 Fourth century BC column with omphalos and tripod. 3 Stoa of Attalus. 4 Apollo temple. 5 Athenian palm tree dedication. 6 Statue and columns of Sicilian rulers. 7 Column and statue of Aemilius Paullus. 8 Altar of Chians. 9 Salamis Apollo. 10 Rhodian statue of Helios. 11 Statues of Attalus II and Eumenes II of Pergamon. 12 Direction of approach for those coming from lower half of Apollo sanctuary. 13 Plataean serpent column.

  Once the order was decided, the money had to be paid. Each consultant had to offer the pelanos, literally a small sacrificial cake that was burned on the altar, but that they had to buy from the Delphians for an additional amount (the “price” of consultation, and the source of a regular and bountiful income for Delphi). We don’t know a lot about the prices charged, except that they varied. One inscription, which has survived to us, recounts an agreement between Delphi and Phaselis, a city in Asia Minor, in 402 BC. The price for a “state” inquiry (i.e., by the city) was seven Aeginetan drachmas and two obols. The price for a “private” inquiry by individual Phaselites was four obols.15 The interesting points here are not only the difference in price for official and personal business (ten times more for official business), but also that such individual agreements could be made (the thinking being perhaps that the cost was related to city wealth, and richer cities like Athens should pay more). But it’s clear that, even at the cheaper end, the price w
ould ensure that thought was given to the necessity of consultation. The price for an individual Phaselite to consult the oracle was the equivalent of about two days pay for an Athenian juryman in the fifth century BC, so combined with the costs of return travel to Delphi, and loss of income while away, this was a real investment. Another inscription, from 370 BC, between Sciathus, an island in the Aegean, and Delphi, records a lower cost: only two drachma for a state inquiry and one sixth of that for a private one. But we don’t know for sure whether this was a difference in agreement between Delphi and Phaselis and Delphi and Sciathus, or whether Delphi had dropped its prices in the fourth century BC (as scholars who argue for the decline of the popularity of the oracle in this period like to think).16 As well, some people were awarded the honor of not paying at all. King Croesus of Lydia in Asia Minor was one of these, but so were the Asclepiads (the worshipers of the healing god Asclepius) from the island of Cos in later times.17

  All this would take time, and consultants would be obliged to wait for long periods (the surviving inscriptions speak of a chresmographeion—a sort of shelter built against the north retaining wall of the temple terrace—as their “waiting area” in the shade). When it was his turn, however, the consultant would enter the temple, where he (no women except the Pythia were allowed into the inner part of the temple) was required to perform another sacrifice on the inner hearth. If not a Delphian, he had to be accompanied in this process by a Delphian who acted as proxenos, the “local representative.”18 The sacrifice, often of an animal (which the consultant would also pay for), was burned, part offered to the gods, part given to the Delphians, and part used “for the knife” (meaning most probably that it was given as a tip to the man actually conducting the sacrifice).19 Once this was completed, the consultant moved forward to where the Pythia was waiting and was encouraged by the priests of the temple to “think pure thoughts and speak well-omened words,” and finally the consultation could begin.20

  It is at this point that the sources become even more difficult to reconcile. The first difficulty is over the arrangement of the inner sanctum of the temple. The Pythia was said to prophesize from the adyton, a special restricted access area within the temple. Several different sources tell us the adyton was a fairly packed environment, containing the omphalos (the stone representing the center of the world), two statues of Apollo (one in wood and one in gold), Apollo’s lyre and sacred armor, the tomb of Dionysus (although this may have also been the omphalos), as well as the Pythia sitting on her tripod alongside a laurel tree.21 But scholars have bitterly disputed where and how this adyton was situated within the temple, some arguing it was sunk into the floor at the back of the cella (the main part), others that it was a completely underground space, and others that it was simply part of the inner cella.22 The initial excavations of the temple found no obvious architectural evidence for such a sunken space, although the latest plan of the (fourth century BC) temple now shows a square room walled off within the cella, which may or may not have been the adyton (see fig. 1.4).23

  Where did the consultant stand? The issue becomes even more difficult. The famous vase painting of the Pythia on her tripod facing a consultant has traditionally been interpreted as demonstrating that the consultant was in the room, facing the Pythia, delivering his question directly to her and thus hearing her response directly as well (fig. 1.1).24 But Herodotus and Plutarch also indicate that there was some sort of other structure within the cella of the temple in which the inquirers sat at the moment of consultation. This room, named the megaron by Herodotus (7.140) and the oikos by Plutarch (Mor. 437C), has not been identified archaeologically.

  Who else was present? Again the sources give us an unclear answer. We know that there were the priests of the temple of Apollo, who had conducted the ceremony involving the goat.25 Yet the sources also mention individuals named prophetes, and, in later sources, individuals called hosioi, as well as a group of women who were in charge of keeping the flame burning on the (laurel-wood-only) inner sacred hearth.26 Part of the problem in understanding this collection of people and their roles is that the terms may overlap (e.g., “prophetes” is used in literature but not recorded as an actual title in Delphic inscriptions), and that the numbers as well as groups of people present changed over time.27 If, as Plutarch says, the consultants stayed in a separate room, then the likelihood is their question was given orally, or in writing, to one of the priests of Apollo, who, in later times perhaps along with the hosioi, accompanied the Pythia into the adyton and put the question to her. Did they write down/interpret/versify/make up her response? None of the ancient sources give us a clear answer, although it does seem to have been possible for the consultant not only to have (at least partially) heard the Pythia’s response while sitting in a separate room, but also to receive either an oral or written form of the response in turn from the priests.28 But just what role the priests had in forming that response depends on what kind of response we understand the Pythia to have given, which, in turn, depends on just how we understand her to have been “inspired.”

  Figure 1.4. The latest plan of the fourth century BC temple of Apollo in the Apollo sanctuary at Delphi, indicating the possible location of the adyton where consultations took place (© EFA [Amandry and Hansen FD II Temple du IVième siècle fig. 18.19])

  No issue has been more hotly debated than the process by which the Pythia was inspired to give her response. First, the ancient sources. Before the fourth century BC, there is no source that discusses how the Pythia was inspired, but all say that she sat on her tripod, from which she uttered “boai” “cries/songs” (e.g., Eur. Ion 91). From the fourth century BC, some sources mention her shaking a laurel branch, but perhaps as a gesture of purification rather than of inspiration.29 We have to wait until Diodorus Siculus in the first century BC for the first mention of a “chasm” below the Pythia.30 Some subsequent writers agree with this, but others describe it is a space she physically descends into and prophesizes from.31 In Diodorus’s narrative, it was this chasm, and the powerful vapor that emerged from it, that led to the initial discovery and installation of an oracle at Delphi. He recounts the story of how a goatherd noticed that his goats, approaching a particular hole on the mountainside, started to shriek and leap around. Goatherds began to do the same when they approached, and also began to prophesize. The news of the spot spread and many people started leaping into the hole, so “to eliminate the danger, the locals appointed one woman as prophetess for all. They built her an apparatus [the tripod] on which she could be safe during her trances.”32

  Plutarch, in the first century AD, mentions the pneuma (translated as “wind,” “air,” “breeze,” “breath,” or “inspiration”), and that occasionally the oikos was filled with a “delightful fragrance” as a result of the pneuma, but he does not describe its exact nature. Instead he relays a long-running argument among his friends about why the oracle is less active now than it was in the past. The arguments include less pneuma; the moral degeneration of mankind leading to its abandonment by the gods; the depopulation of Greece and the departure of the daimones (spirits) responsible for divination. But Plutarch also insists that the Pythia did not at any point rant or rave. Instead, he comments that, after a consultation session, the Pythia “feels calm and peaceful.” In fact, the only time the Pythia is said to have sounded odd was on the occasion when the entire process of consultation had been forced (the goat was deluged in cold water to ensure that it shivered to provide the right signs for the consultation to go ahead). The result was that the Pythia’s voice sounded odd. “It was at once plain from the harshness of her voice that she was not responding properly; she was like a labouring ship and was filled with a mighty and baleful spirit,” which suggests that, in normal circumstances, the Pythia responded in a normal-sounding voice and manner.33

  Strabo, a geographer of the ancient world writing in the first century AD, represents the Pythia as sitting on the tripod, receiving the pneuma, speaking oracles in both prose
and verse. Another writer, Lucan, however, still in the first century AD, gives a very different impression of the Pythia, in which the her body is taken over by the god through the inhalation of the vapor, and she raves as a result. In the writings of Pausanias, a Greek travel writer from the second century AD, the Pythia also drinks from the Cassotis spring (the one that runs by and under the temple at Delphi) for inspiration. In the writings of Lucian, a rhetorician from the second century AD, the Pythia chews laurel leaves for inspiration and drinks not from the Cassotis, but from the Castalian spring. In the Chrisitian writers, for example John Crysostom, the picture focuses again on the effects of the pneuma: the Pythia’s “madness” is caused by the “evil” pneuma rising upward from beneath her, entering through her genitals as she sits on the tripod.34

  Thus the most well-known modern picture of a Pythia, inspired/sent “mad” by breathing in/being taken over by “vapors” from a chasm below the tripod, and giving as a result raving and insensible answers (which then have to be made sense of by the priests around her) is a composite one, from mostly late Roman and indeed several anti-pagan sources. Scholars have long pointed out that in particular the Roman assumption of the Pythia’s madness, and search for an explanation for it (via the chasm and its vapors), could well have emerged from the mistranslation of Plato’s description of her divine inspiration as mania (linked in Greek to mantike—“divination”), which became the Latin insania (“insanity”). To a Roman audience, used to divination carried out through a series of taught, more scientific “arts” (e.g., the reading of livers from sacrificed animals), understanding her mania, her madness, as a result of intoxication by gas from a subterranean chasm rendered the Delphic oracular process “intelligible and satisfying.”35