It is not only the hotly contested hierarchy of oracles (and their gods) that the varying stories surrounding Delphi’s origins illuminate, but also the more particular nature of Apollo as he was worshiped at Delphi (Apollo Pythios). How the site became known as Delphi, the oracle as the Pythia, and Apollo at Delphi as Apollo Pythios are all issues to which the many origin stories give conflicting answers.30 Yet despite the difference in detail, these stories all construct Apollo as the god who brought knowledge to mankind, as well as the one who imposed order over chaos. In the Homeric Hymn to Apollo, as soon as Apollo is born on Delos, he announces his interest in music, shooting with a bow, and divination. His privileged position among the gods as the only one who knows Zeus’s mind is underscored in the Homeric Hymn to Hermes, when Hermes tries to trick his brother into giving him the gift of divination (Hom. Hymn Hermes 533–38). It is this position of power and the responsibility entailed in knowing the future, along with his interests in “cultural” activities like music, that associate Apollo, and particularly his worship at Delphi as Apollo Pythios, with the forces of order and lawful action.31 These qualities are also reflected in several other epithets under which he was worshiped at different sanctuaries around the Greek world: Apollo Prostaterios (protector); Delphinios (protecting and mediating the relationship between seafarers and the oceans, but also in terms of relations between cities especially in Asia Minor); Epikourios (protector of mercenaries); and Maleatas (associated with healing).32
Yet his warlike activities (particularly his brutal slaying of the serpent and his forceful taking of the oracular site from Gaia/Themis), his love of the bow, and perhaps even the etymology of the name Apollo, also call attention to a darker side to his character, as one who punishes those who cross the line he guards (see his threat to punish the Cretan priests if they commit hubris in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo).33 This duality of order and violence in the character of Apollo Pythios at Delphi, as expressed through the sources relating to Delphi’s origins, is an important feature of the way the Greeks conceptualized the role of Delphi and Apollo Pythios in their world, and it mirrors the duality of centrality and conflict that is the mainstay of Delphi’s story in ancient history.34
As such, the different emerging stories surrounding Delphi’s origins all seem to have been oriented toward explaining, justifying, and mirroring its later, central position in the Greek world, the dual nature of the site and its god, and even perhaps toward defending and buttressing that position in the face of increasing competition from other oracular shrines. It is even more fascinating that this process does not seem to have occurred only in ancient literature, but also on the ground at Delphi itself. The emergence of the importance of a lineage dating back to Gaia, particularly in literature from the fifth century BC onward, is evidenced in the archaeological development of the sanctuary at that time. In fact, our earliest solid datable evidence for an actual cult of Gaia at Delphi comes from the fifth century BC; statues to Gaia and Themis dating from the period have been found, not in the Apollo sanctuary, but near the Castalian fountain (see plate 1, fig. 0.2).35 However, we also know from the accounts of the Apollo temple reconstruction in the mid-fourth century BC that there was a sanctuary of Gaia inside the main Apollo sanctuary at Delphi by this time, and its continued presence in the first century AD is confirmed for us by Plutarch.36 Is this archaeological evidence of a cult beginning only in the fifth century BC (by the Castalian fountain and later being transferred into the Apollo sanctuary), or is it simply that evidence for a much older cult survives only from the fifth century BC onward? We can’t be sure. But it is an intriguing coincidence that, just as Gaia’s presence at Delphi in the ancient literature emerges from the fifth century BC onward, so too, in the physical space of the sanctuary and the local landscape, does Gaia’s worship at Delphi come into focus.
The many, often conflicting, stories regarding Delphi’s beginnings have in the past been taken as a way of filling in the blank canvas of the site’s early history and, by the first archaeologists of Delphi, as a guide to the identification of its earliest structures (see the following chapter). Few scholars would be prepared to use these myths in the same way today. Instead, the myths are considered products of their own time, a time by which Delphi was already an incredibly successful phenomenon (late seventh–fifth centuries BC) that required an origin to match, an origin that could in turn be used not only to reinforce the natural order and succession of the cosmos, but also the particular importance of Delphi in comparison to other oracular sanctuaries, the details of its location, the dual nature of Apollo Pythios, and conflicting notions of Delphi’s history. The gods, which were supposed to be its earliest masters, may well have become the object of worship in its sanctuaries from only the fifth century BC onward, because, by the later periods of Delphic history, particularly of Plutarch and Pausanias in the first–second centuries AD, all these tales were part of the rich tapestry of stories that could be used to evoke, realign, and even reframe the place of Delphi, and indeed of Greece, in the ancient world.
So if the literary representations of Delphic beginnings tell us rather more about the mindset, needs, and desires of the periods in which they were developed than about Delphi’s origins, what can we know about how, when, and why Delphi developed? For this, we must turn to the archaeological investigation of Delphi and the surrounding landscape, which has transformed our understanding of Delphi’s early years.
Delphi’s earliest history was, however, by no means the prime focus of its initial excavators. During the first major excavation of the sanctuary, known as the “big dig” (1892–1901; see the final chapter), the landscape was rarely excavated to below archaic period levels, and most of the original excavation was focused on exposing the sanctuary as the Greco-Roman tour guide Pausanias had seen it during his visit in the second century AD. It is ironic that the oldest object to have so far been found in the sanctuary of Apollo was discovered during the big dig, but aroused no interest from the excavators at the time. It is now recognized as a lion’s muzzle, which formed the lower decorated edge of a Minoan rhyton drinking vessel, dated to between 1600 and 1450 BC.37 It bears signs of being repaired in antiquity, but, given the lack of context for its discovery, there is no way of knowing whether it came to the site shortly after its creation, or indeed many centuries later.
It was only during subsequent excavation seasons from the 1920s onward, spurred by an increasing awareness and interest in the possibility of finding significant material from much earlier cultures (cf. to Sir Arthur Evans’s excavation at the Minoan palace of Knossos beginning in 1900) that the French excavators actively sought to excavate lower levels at the site. Since that time, as the focus has expanded from the main sanctuary site to the wider Delphic landscape, a much more complex picture of Delphi’s earliest origins has begun to appear.
In the Corycian cave, 1,400 meters above sea level, and 800 meters above Delphi, traces of Neolithic occupation have been discovered dating to 4300–3000 BC. This cave (see map 3; figs. 0.2, 1.2), which will in later times be closely linked with the Delphic sanctuary by a processional path that still today can be followed as it clings to the sheers cliffs of Parnassus, seems to have been used for occasional habitation. The pottery remains have been argued to be similar to Thessalian ceramic from the same period.38 This is interesting because of the links that many scholars have claimed between the Delphic region and that of Thessaly to the north during the ninth and early eighth centuries BC. The similarity in the Neolithic ceramic may suggest a much longer-term connection between these two areas.
Throughout the early and middle Helladic periods (c. 2800–1550 BC), there is material evidence for the development of settlement in different parts of the (modern-day) Itean plain below Delphi. Yet, despite the lion-muzzle rhyton find, there is no evidence for consistent settlement in the actual region of the Delphic sanctuary until a period known as late Helladic III (part of a system of chronology based on pottery styles), which eq
uates to c. 1400–1060 BC. At this time, the Corycian cave seems to have been out of fashion (very few finds dating to this period have been discovered there), in contrast to the plethora of objects discovered among the nascent community at Delphi.39 Most of the settlement from this early period covers the later Apollo sanctuary’s eastern side, stretching up the hillside from the area of the temple of Apollo to the lesche of the Cnidians. The impression is of a lot of poor housing and a particular fondness for terra-cotta animal figurines. Yet we also know of at least one rich dromos tomb in the area, along the later road leading from Delphi to Arachova, which contained a large number of vases and even a bronze sword (see map 3).40
None of this is evidence for cult practice, for an actual practicing sanctuary. Indeed, archaeologists have a hard time agreeing what, if any, archaeological material can definitively be declared as votive (that is, associated with cult practice) prior to the latter parts of the seventh century BC. But this has not stopped many from becoming very excited by Mycenaean period finds in the later Athena sanctuary (see plates 1, 3). For here, in the 1920s excavations, groups of female figurines (so called Phi and Psi figurines because their stance echoes those Greek letters of the alphabet) were unearthed. Coupled with the facts that no traces of habitation could be found in this area and that the later literary stories associated with Delphi claimed the site was held originally by the female Earth goddess Gaia, many scholars advocated that the later Athena sanctuary was the earliest site of cult worship of Gaia at Delphi, confirming the historicity of the literary myths. Today, it has been recognized that the collection, and burial, of these Psi and Phi figurines happened at a later time, perhaps associated with later reconstructions of the Athena sanctuary in the archaic period.41 But does this mean they should not still be associated with an early cult of a female divinity (perhaps Gaia-like) at the site? The debate remains open, although it has also been suggested, following comparison between these figurines and Mycenaean cult figurines from other sites, that the Delphic ones should be associated with funerary, rather than cult use.42
The traditional narrative of Delphic history based on the archaeology, up to the last years of the twentieth century, claimed a slow decline in the size and vitality of its habitation (and perhaps cult practice) toward the end of the Mycenaean period (c. 1100–1000 BC), with a complete abandonment of the site until the early ninth century BC.43 That picture has been radically changed in the last decade, thanks to the most recent excavations at the Apollo sanctuary. Now, almost continuous habitation can be demonstrated in the area of the Apollo sanctuary between the eleventh and ninth centuries BC. The pottery associated with this period is distinctly local, mixed with a degree of contact with northern Phocis. Yet by the ninth century BC, there is evidence for an increased amount of contact between the Delphic region and areas farther north, in particular Thessaly.44
Through the ninth century BC, settlement in the area of the later Apollo sanctuary continued to expand, often building on (and reusing) the foundations and material associated with earlier Mycenaean structures. But at the beginning of the eighth century BC, there is substantial change, both in terms of style of building at the site and in influence on the styles of material culture found in and around the settlement. The most recent excavations have shown how, in the region of the later “pillar of the Rhodians” dedication to the east of the temple of Apollo (see fig. 1.3), the existing habitation, which seems to have existed on the natural incline of the mountain, was reorganized substantially by the construction of leveled terraces at that time. On one of these terraces, the remains of a house, known to the French excavators as the maison noire (the “black house”), have been uncovered. Gradually over the course of the eighth century, this house seems to have become part of an increasingly regularized pattern of what are known as row houses, with the wider settlement split into two main camps and an open spine, which seems to have served as the main access route for the settlement, running north-south up the mountainside.45 The decision to invest in the landscape and create a more organized, leveled building space was matched at the time by a decisive shift in the nature and style of objects brought to the site. Soon after 800 BC, the predominant Thessalian-influenced pottery is replaced by imported high-quality Corinthian pottery, although Thessalian influence continues for both metalwork and low-quality pottery. At around the same time, the first monumental objects that can be definitively associated with cult use (the three-legged bronze tripods) appear at Delphi.46
The beginning of the eighth century BC thus seems to have borne witness to much change at Delphi, which evolved from being a settlement connected to Thessaly and the north—with little contact to the sea and communities to the south, or with any powerful regional role—into a newly reorganized community strongly connected to the sea and the powerful settlements to the south (particularly Corinth), and with an increasingly important regional role.47 Nor was it the only place in the Greek world to undergo such transformation. The eighth century BC is often cited as the critical period of change for the emergence of archaic and classical Greece, in part thanks to the influence of increasingly dense contact with the world outside. As the historian Robin Osborne has put it: “in 800 BC, the Greek world was poor, small, and lacking in general organisation. Its communities were small, and hard-pressed to survive in a hostile natural environment. Greeks had few contacts in the wider world and no special advantages.”48 During the eighth century BC, all this changed. The number of sites of habitation increased dramatically; the amount of resources available increased; the social and political organization of settlements seems to have been more open and flexible to question and change; the investment by communities in their tombs and sanctuaries increased substantially; and, on a larger scale, the influence of different cultures (e.g., the Phoenicians in the western Mediterranean, and the Greeks in Italy, Sicily, and the eastern Mediterranean) bear witness to a greater social mobility and international interaction. Places of cult worship seem to have been major beneficiaries of these changes in part because they were able to provide useful locations in which to conduct and display a material culture associated with these changing social priorities, attitudes, and interests. At the sanctuary of Kalapodi, for example, in the region of Phocis (see maps 2, 3), not far from Delphi, there are the remnants of construction for a more monumental cult structure at the end of the ninth century. On the island of Samos, the later sanctuary of Hera received its first temple c. 800 BC, as did the sanctuary of Hera at Perachora near Corinth. At Perachora, too, there is evidence for a vast range of international material culture being dedicated at the site (including no less than 273 Phoenician scarabs), while at Samos there is evidence for contact with Egypt, Cyprus, North Syria, Phoenicia, Phrygia, and Assyria.49
Yet, as has often been pointed out by scholars, this investment, particularly in cult spaces, was by no means uniform. Though Delphi clearly sees a change and increase in investment from the beginning of the eighth century BC, it is by no means on the scale of other sanctuaries such as at Samos or Perachora, or even nearby Kalapodi.50 The sanctuaries that benefited most in the first part of the eighth century seem to have been those tied more closely to growing political communities (the eighth century is also often known as the time of the “rise of the polis”). Conversely, sanctuaries like Delphi and Olympia, which would eventually become known as the great Panhellenic sanctuaries, are significantly less monumentalized than their counterparts more firmly attached to particular communities probably because they lie in this period outside the sphere of control of particular poleis. At the same time, as we shall see in later chapters, it is ironic that this very absence of attachment to a community in this early period would become in turn an important factor in the eventual successful development of these sanctuaries as places with Panhellenic significance.51
So just what is going on at Delphi during the eighth century BC, and how, if at all, can we understand the development of its sanctuary, cult activity, and oracular practice
? It is clear that by the beginning of the century, there was an important settlement at Delphi. Yet it is unclear to what extent any of this space was considered sacred, unclear to what degree a religious cult had developed, and unclear whether any oracle was functioning. The arrival at the site in c. 800 BC of Corinthian fine-wear pottery and of more monumental votive offerings, and the increased investment in construction at the site mark our first clear indication of both wider interest in Delphi and a more insistent investment in cult practice. Delphi, it seems, had become part of Corinth’s broadening interest in the region, and part of its expanding trading network (a particular type of Corinthian pottery, known as Thapsos ware, which was reserved for export by Corinth, is found at Delphi from the middle of the eighth century BC onward). This interest of Corinth in Delphi may have been occasioned by Delphi’s longer-standing connections with Thessaly to the north, which Corinth may in turn have hoped to exploit for its own trading network (and this link to the north will become increasingly important toward the end of the eighth century). Yet we should not overemphasize Delphi’s newfound trading or cult importance in the first seventy years of the eighth century BC. Other sanctuaries with which Corinth was heavily involved, like Perachora, or even nearby sites like Kalapodi, have provided much richer material records for this period.52
Delphi Page 5
