Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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Parnassus. We passed through the little village of Kastri which once stood on the site of the sanctuary, but forty years ago the French School of Archaeology removed it — lock, stock and barrel — and thus set Delphi free for the excavations which have had such remarkable results. So to-day there is nothing modern in Delphi, nothing but the remains of her past greatness set in a scene of lonely and impressive grandeur. Here is a vast natural amphitheatre, a hollow glade, rugged yet lovely, a cleft between two enormous rocks, called the Shining Ones, from which water — the sacred spring of Castaly — gushes forth as freely to-day as it did three thousand years ago when men first felt the presence of the gods here. For from earliest times this was a holy spot, where Earth and Water were worshipped, and Earth ' s child, the serpent, long before the Sun- God came. But when the Lord Apollo came, he slew the serpent, and, not forgetting to take its name Pytho, established this as his own sanctuary, making it the religious centre of the ancient world. Men came from all over Greece, from Egypt, and from the East to consult the oracle and to hear what was the will of the God. They put their question to the priests, who pondered on it and in their turn gave it to the priestess, generally a simple village woman, chosen for her blameless life. Seated on a tripod close by the strange vapours arising from the rocks, she, excited as if by mesmeric influence, uttered wild and whirling words which none but the priests could understand. They trans- lated this mystery as they thought best, and gave the answer, generally expressed in veiled and cryptic words, to the suppliant, who turned it over in his mind on his way home. Thus it can easily be seen that the oracle at Delphi was controlled by the priests, as astute and subtle a body of men as ever lived, well versed in world politics, and with a good knowledge of human nature. They had to answer all sorts of questions. Some were about a proposed marriage or a business enterprise; others dealt with larger issues — questions of war and peace, colonization, art and education. Nothing was too great or too trivial but the priests had an answer for it. The fact that it was given in rather am- biguous words enabled them to save face if their advice turned out badly, as in the well-known story of the oracle ' s reply to Croesus of Lydia about his projected invasion of Persia. But on the whole the advice was good, and it was the oracle at Delphi that declared Socrates was the wisest of men and so started him on his mission of converting men to truth. Replies like this show its fame was well founded and explain how, for over a thousand years, it was the supreme court of appeal for the whole Greek world. All wanted to stand well with it — and gifts poured into it from every side, often from cities warring with one another. Every state turned to this distant sanctuary throned high and aloof on the wind-swept hills. We felt that aloofness, that sense of being apart in Delphi. Never had the Greek instinct for choosing the right spot to build guided them more surely than in their choice of Delphi. We visited the ruins of the temple of Apollo and walking along the Sacred wayj saw the treasury of the Athenians and the statues on the hillside looking like gods and goddesses who had halted for a moment. In the museum we saw the greatest treasure of [24]

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position made it impregnable for centuries, and in stormy times valuables of all kind were placed there for safety. The result is that precious manuscripts, Byzantine mosaics and other works of art have made it a veritable treasure house. We saw a couple of the monks, tall, bearded men in black robes with thick dark hair flowing over their shoulders from underneath high black headdresses. It appears there are about five thousand of them and they have their own laws and courts of justice under the presi- dency of their Abbot. Recently however, Metaxas, the Dictator of Greece, has decreed that no monks are exempt from military service. This decree has seriously affected their outlook, and one cannot tell what the outcome may be. It is strange how modern dictators by their drastic action can suddenly dynamite institutions which have stood like rocks for centuries ! The next few days we spent cruising among the islands in the Northern Aegean. We visited Thasos, a lovely spot off the Thracian coast, Lesbos, where burning Sappho lived and sung , and Chios, the reputed birthplace of Homer. But it was Samothrace, a wild mountainous island swept by the winds from the Dardanelles that interested me most. From here a youth called Dardanus had set out and founded Troy; from its highest peak, Poseidon, according to Homer, watched the conflict between Greeks and Trojans, and in recent years what is now one of France ' s loveliest treasures the Victory was found on its shore. It is difficult of access. There is no harbour, no landing place, no roads, no vehicle of any kind on this island, and ships are chary of putting in here. Some shepherds and a couple of muleteers came down and stared at us as we scrambled ashore. Curiously enough it was the only place where the inhabitants seemed to understand the classical Greek Which our party could muster up. Four of us set off on mules to explore the island and I coaxed my beast up a crag and looked eagerly towards the East, hoping to have Poseidon ' s luck and to catch a glimpse of Troy. But alas ! I saw nothing but a maze of heat. However, we found Khora, the little settlement to the north of the island where the entire population turned out to greet us and insisted on giving us not only water — deliciously cool, bubbling water — but also wine and Turkish coffee served in tiny delicate white cups. They entertained us royally and we were gettting on splendidly with the language when suddenly a man appeared and addressed us in fluent American ! It appeared that he had been in Hollywood for four years, and after trying his luck in New York, he had returned to his native Samothrace, married and settled down. Many of the islanders accompanied us half-way across the island, and I have since had a letter in Greek from one of the little girls, enclosing her photograph. Crete was our next stopping place. But that is a whole story in itself, and now I have only time to tell you about our last day in Greece. We spent it in Delphi, and I am not sure that it was not the best day of all. We landed at the port of Itea, drove rapidly across the Sacred Plain, and almost immediately passed through a beautiful grove of olive-trees — very rich, very old. Soon we were swinging up a zig-zag road catching at every turn new and breath-taking views of the gulf of Corinth. Higher and higher we went with sharper and even more excit- ing turns until at last we were well over two thousand feet up on the shoulder of Mt. [23]

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Delphi — the famous bronze statue of a young charioteer, tall, noble and distinguished- looking. That reminded us of the games and races held there in honour of the God, and we looked for the stadium. Not far from the Museum we came upon the open-air theatre, where Prometheus Bound was produced eight years ago. The acoustics are perfect and what a setting for a play! A zig-zag path up what appeared to be impenetrable rock brought us suddenly to a ledge which stretched away into a perfectly constructed stadium, hewn out of the hillside with a seating capacity of seven thousand. Overhead circled eagles, looking in their strength and dignity, the very embodiment of the spirit of the place. The view from this height was magnificent. But we were rather breathless after our climb, and how competitors ever reached these heights, without being winded, puzzled us a little. However our guide reminded us a little reproachfully that Lord Byron had come all the way from the sea on foot, his heart on fire to see Delphi. At that we were a little ashamed, especially when glancing down we saw our rather unsightly bus in the midst of all these stupendous surroundings, perched on the Sacred Way. We were quite glad when someone gave the order that it should go on and wait for us at the next village. And so like pilgrims of old we walked out of Delphi on foot. That was our last glimpse of Greece, and I could not have wished a fairer one. In the evening we sailed westward along the Gulf of Corinth, the mountains burnished with the glory of the setting sun, Parnassus towering on our right. Helicon behind us, the Achaean Mountains on our left and everywhere that subtle revealing light, which must surely be the despair of painters. We passed Missolonghi, where Byron died for Greece, and as darkness fell, sailed straight for Ithaca, knowing, like a great traveller of old, that our wanderings were over, and our ship was set for home. E. K. Bryan. DAWN A mountain lake in quiet stillness sleeps; Beneath the stars the night is almost gone. When, stealthily, from o ' er the hills, there creeps A freshening breeze, the Messenger of Dawn. When all is still, soon in the Eastern Sky A warming glow arises, and it draws The mists of night, and dims the stars on high. And gloriously expands without a pause. The leaves begin to rustle on the trees. The loon calls to his mate, his laughing cry. And all the little animals, and birds, and bees Begin to stir. The trout rise to the fly The guide awaits you at the first portage As dawns another day o ' er Lac Sauvage. Betty Smith, Matriculation II, Barclay House. [25]