In regard to the Pythian festival, we find a short notice of the particular incidents and individuals by whom its reconstitution and enlargement were brought about—­a notice the more interesting inasmuch as these very incidents are themselves a manifestation of something like pan-Hellenic patriotism, standing almost alone in an age which presents little else in operation except distinct city interests.  At the time when the Homeric Hymn to the Delphinian Apollo was composed (probably in the seventh century B.C.), the Pythian festival had as yet acquired little eminence.  The rich and holy temple of Apollo was then purely oracular, established for the purpose of communicating to pious inquirers “the counsels of the Immortals.”  Multitudes of visitors came to consult it, as well as to sacrifice victims and to deposit costly offerings; but while the god delighted in the sound of the harp as an accompaniment to the singing of paeans, he was by no means anxious to encourage horse-races and chariot-races in the neighborhood.  Nay, this psalmist considers that the noise of horses would be “a nuisance”, the drinking of mules a desecration to the sacred fountains, and the ostentation of fine-built chariots objectionable, as tending to divert the attention of spectators away from the great temple and its wealth.  From such inconveniences the god was protected by placing his sanctuary “in the rocky Pytho”—­a rugged and uneven recess, of no great dimensions, embosomed in the southern declivity of Parnassus, and about two thousand feet above the level of the sea, while the topmost Parnassian summits reach a height of near eight thousand feet.  The situation was extremely imposing, but unsuited by nature for the congregation of any considerable number of spectators; altogether impracticable for chariot-races; and only rendered practicable by later art and outlay for the theatre as well as for the stadium.  Such a site furnished little means of subsistence, but the sacrifices and presents of visitors enabled the ministers of the temple to live in abundance, and gathered together by degrees a village around it.

Near the sanctuary of Pytho, and about the same altitude, was situated the ancient Phocian town of Crissa, on a projecting spur of Parnassus—­overhung above by the line of rocky precipice called the Phaedriades, and itself overhanging below the deep ravine through which flows the river Peistus.  On the other side of this river rises the steep mountain Cirphis, which projects southward into the Corinthian gulf—­the river reaching that gulf through the broad Crissoean plain, which stretches westward nearly to the Locrian town of Amphissa; a plain for the most part fertile and productive, though least so in its eastern part immediately under the Cirphis, where the seaport Cirrha was placed.  The temple, the oracle, and the wealth of Pytho, belong to the very earliest periods of Grecian antiquity.  But the octennial solemnity in honor of the god included at first no other competition except that of bards, who sang each a paean with the harp.  The Amphictyonic assembly held one of its half-yearly meetings near the temple of Pytho, the other at Thermopylae.