The Devils Tabernacle
Frontispiece to Antonie van Dale, De oraculis ethnicorum dissertationes duae (Amsterdam, 1683), detail. Courtesy of the Warburg Institute
The Devils Tabernacle
THE PAGAN ORACLES IN EARLY MODERN THOUGHT
Anthony Ossa-Richardson
PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS
Princeton and Oxford
Copyright 2013 by Princeton University Press
Published by Princeton University Press, 41 William Street, Princeton, New Jersey 08540
In the United Kingdom: Princeton University Press, 6 Oxford Street, Woodstock, Oxfordshire OX20 1TW
All Rights Reserved
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Ossa-Richardson, Anthony, 1981
The Devils tabernacle : the pagan oracles in early modern thought / Anthony Ossa-Richardson.
p. cm.
Revision of the authors thesis (doctoral)Warburg Institute, 2011.
Includes bibliographical references (p. 291) and index.
ISBN 978-0-691-15711-5 (hardcover : alk. paper)
1. Oracles. 2. EuropeReligion. I. Title.
BL613.O87 2013
203'.2dc23
2012036317
British Library Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available
This book has been composed in Sabon LT Std
Printed on acid-free paper.
Printed in the United States of America
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
I well know that history, when we look at it in small portions, may be so construed as to mean anything, that it may be interpreted in as many ways as a Delphic oracle.
Thomas Macaulay (1831)
Contents
CHAPTER ONE Authorities |
CHAPTER TWO Demons |
CHAPTER THREE Nature |
CHAPTER FOUR Imposture |
CHAPTER FIVE Enlightenment? |
CHAPTER SIX Solutions |
CONCLUSION Les lauriers sont coups |
Plates
FRONTISPIECE Antonie van Dale, De oraculis ethnicorum dissertationes duae (Amsterdam, 1683). Courtesy of the Warburg Institute | ii |
PLATE ONE Antonie van Dale, De oraculis ethnicorum dissertationes duae (Amsterdam, 1700), fig. 4, Pythia jam tripode insidens, et Responsa reddens |
PLATE TWO Antonie van Dale, De oraculis ethnicorum dissertationes duae (Amsterdam, 1700), fig. 4, Pythia jam tripode insidens, et Responsa reddens (detail) |
PLATE THREE Engraving of Athanasius Kirchers Delphicum oraculum. From Filippo Buonanni, Musaeum Kircherianum (Rome, 1709), Tabula 25, no. 3. |
Acknowledgements
THIS BOOK IS A REVISION of my doctoral thesis, defended at the Warburg Institute in January 2011. My greatest debt is to my supervisor, Jill Kraye, whose support and editorial acuity far exceeded the requirements of her office, and who always seemed to know already whatever I had just discovered. Without her the thesis, and the book, would have looked quite different.
For their support and efforts on behalf of my research, I am also indebted to Stephen Clucas, Sietske Fransen, Guido Giglioni, Tony Grafton, Arnold Hunt, Jan Loop, Dirk van Miert, Sarah Vanwelden, and Joanna Weinberg; to Randall McLeod, who gave me nothing on oracles but remains a stella maris, in person and on the page; to a small sea of professional scholars, both known and unknown, who kindly answered queries at a moments notice; to my parents, for aiding financially when the AHRC shrugged its grey shoulders; and, of course, to my wife and radiant son, without whom the writing of this book would have been possible, but rather more lonely.
All translations in this book are my own, except where indicated and except from classical and patristic Greek texts, where I have relied on the translations in Loeb and other cited volumes.
The Devils Tabernacle
Introduction
21 March. Arrived at Delphi. I first saw the best part of the ancient ruins, as well as the most noble and varied walls, the skill of whose architects is quite striking. Then the round Temple of Apollo, collapsed on all sides, and beside it a wondrous amphitheatre of great stones, with thirty-three steps, and, in the highest citadel of the exalted city below the cliffs, richly adorned with marble steps, the hippodrome six hundred paces long. Then I saw the smashed statues. And most noble inscriptions in Greek and Latin letters, and, both inside and out through the fields, huge marbles and ornate tombs, and rocks graven with marvellous skill. All this I have seen at Delphi, today called Castri by the foolish Greek rabble, utterly ignorant about where Delphi had been.1
So leaps ancient Delphi into the mind of modern Europea grand and forgotten ruin. This diary passage dates from 1432, when the antiquary Ciriaco of Ancona, picking his way among the ruins of Greece, arrived under the shadow of Parnassus. For four centuries, nothing changed. In late January 1676, the antiquary Jacob Spon, picking his way among the ruins of Greece with his companion, George Wheler, arrived, under the shadow of Parnassus, at the village of Castri. No sooner had we approached the village, he later wrote, than we recognised it as the remains of the famous town of Delphi.2 None of the locals except one knew of its past. The scene prompted Spon, a philosophical man, to reflect on the vicissitudes of fate:
What I find most bizarre is that the most famous place in the world suffered such a reversal of fortune that we have been obliged to seek Delphi in Delphi itself, and to ask the whereabouts of its temple when we were standing on its very foundations.3
The town had been famous, of course, for its oracle, long defunct. As Wheler remarked of the oracle in his own account of their travels, Its ancient glory is now vanished; and it remains great, at present, only in the writings of the ancients.4 His words were absolutely point. The many inscriptions catalogued throughout the nineteenth century told scholars much about the sites history; but before excavation began in 1892, the heap of rocks at the foot of Parnassus could tell them nothing about the oracle itself. Even when they came in person, they relied more on their memory than on their eyes. Ciriaco claimed to find oracular verses delivered to Croesusperhaps the most celebrated of those recorded by Herodotuscarved on a stone at the site.5 In hindsight his observation, likely spurious, reads more as a gesture, an anchoring of physical experience in the more authentic world of the written word.
In the early nineteenth century, Western tourists began pouring into Greece, and into Delphi. But still it was the same as before: all one could do was lament the disappearance of the temple, and there was little to see but the magnificent landscape, the huts of Castri, and scattered late remains of the ancient town. To the frustration of English and German classicists, eager for the real Delphi and its pagan secrets, the locals wanted instead to tell them Christian folk stories, and sell them fake antiques.6 Visiting the site in December 1809, Lord Byron and his companion, the scholar John Cam Hobhouse, found no Herodotean oracle, but only the names of other tourists scratched on a column, in a chapel dedicated not to Apollo but to the Panagia, the Virgin Mary. In a gesture of communication among peers, they added theirs.7 A cicerone showed the pair a cave where the Delphic priestess supposedly had inhaled the sacred fumes of the earth, but Hobhouse would have none of it, and Byron, while awestruck at Parnassus, registered his own ambivalence toward the oracular site in a well-known verse: