The Oracle, painted by Camillo Miola (c. 1840 – 1919)

This painting, entitled The Oracle, was created by the Italian artist Camillo Miola (c. 1840-1919), who is also known by the name, Biacca. His scene shows an ancient Greek priestess, serving as a prophetess in a temple. Although there were several prophetic oracle sites in the ancient world, the artist likely depicts the most famous of them all—the Oracle at Delphi. There, one could find a unique mystically-attuned priestess, known as a Pythia, who, when sitting upon her specially-placed tripod, would utter cryptic messages that were said to have been mystically divulged to her by the temple’s patron god, Apollo. As seen in the painting above, these utterances were recorded and interpreted by priests that attended the Pythia. Prophecies and statements from the priestesses of Delphi were highly valued in ancient Greece, and it was not uncommon for individuals and communities to seek advice from the Oracle before committing to any great decision or undertaking.

Even in ancient times, people in the Greco-Roman world suspected that the famous priestesses at Delphi might have been receiving help literally from the earth in order to enter their prophetic trances. The Roman scholar, Pliny the Elder (c. 23-79), wrote of Delphi in a section of his Natural History that dealt with vents in the earth. He stated, “In other places there are prophetic caves, where those who are intoxicated with the vapour which rises from them predict future events, as at the most noble of all oracles, Delphi. In which cases, what mortal is there who can assign any other cause, than the divine power of nature, which is everywhere diffused, and thus bursts forth in various places?” (Pliny the Elder, Natural History, 2.95). Pliny’s contemporary, the poet Lucan (c. 39-65), also wrote an account of a Pythia of Delphi. In Lucan’s entertaining and fictionalized account, the poet describes the psychedelic escalation and decline of a Pythia, who seems tired and afraid of her hallucinogenic occupation. Lucan wrote:

“At last, terrified, the maiden fled toward the tripods.
She reached the cavernous depths and there remained,
and the power conceived in her virgin breast what the spirit
of the rock, unexhausted after so many centuries,
poured into the prophetess. At last he possessed
her Delphic breast—her body had never been fuller.

She searches long and hard
and barely finds it, buried among so many great fates.
First, rabid madness pours from her frothing lips,
groaning, loud howling with heavy panting breath,
then sad wails of lamentation echo
through the vast caves. At last, the virgin is mastered
and her voice rings out:

Then returning from the holy light where she saw Fate
to the common glare of day, a shroud of darkness falls.
Paean had poured inside her Stygian Lethe
that stole away the gods’ secrets. Truth fled her heart
and the future returned to Phoebus’ tripods;
struggling to revive, she falls.”
(Lucan, Civil War, Book 5, approximately lines 170-230)

Camillo Miola’s prophetess seems to be displayed mid-trance. Smoke rises up from the left side of the canvas, but if the smoky fumes are hallucinogenic, then the attending priests seem to be immune to the effects. On the ground, bowing below the Pythia are, perhaps, the men who await her prophecy. It would be a message with the potential to shape ancient commerce, politics and war.

Written by C. Keith Hansley



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