CHAPTER II.

THE MYTHICAL AND ARCHAIC ARCHITECTS AND BUILDERS.

History does not probe so deeply into the earliest annals of the races that inhabited the Peloponnesian peninsula, that it does not show them to have been pre-eminent as builders; nor does it follow the ancient Greek people throughout the long ages that spanned their evolution and decadence, that it does not find them in all the stages through which they passed, leaving at least some of their walls, temples or monuments to resist the ravages of all time, and the decaying influences of the elements. They built, therefore, not only well, but perhaps better than they knew, and have proved that if the creations of their intellects were immortal, as we know, the works of their hands were not altogether perishable.

The Pelasgic tribes, who were the first of which there is any record to have inhabited Greece, were great wall-builders, and past-masters of defensive architecture in those early ages. Although we may not have the names of the individual architects among them, we have their racial works still before us to evidence the fact that whoever the architects were, they knew their business eminently well. The Acropolis at Athens possesses the finest example that remains of Pelasgic mural work, in the fortified retaining wall which surrounds it, and which is sometimes called after the race that built it, the Pelasgicum.

It is claimed also by some authorities that the Pelasgi were the original architects and builders of the “Long Walls” that connected Athens with her seaport gates, and of such parts of the peribolus as were not the authentic work of the builders under Themistocles and Cimon, and subsequent architects to be hereafter mentioned.

The Cyclopes, who belonged to Pelasgic times, were likewise remarkable wall-builders, lending their name to a kind of mural work in a manner original with them, and having the attributes of great solidity and endurance. The ruins of houses and other structures erected by them have been found also at Tiryus and Mycenæ, on the plain of Argos.

Speaking of the circuit wall at Tiryus, Pausanias describes it as being “composed of unwrought stones, each of which is so large that a team of mules cannot even shake the smallest one;” and of Mycenæ, the more important city, a short distance from Tiryus, where the circular treasury of Atreus and other evidences of Cyclopean architecture have been excavated by Dr. Henry Schliemann, Euripides asks the question: “Do you call the city of Perseus the handiwork of the Cyclopes?”

Modern archæologists are inclined to the opinion that the Cyclopean builders were not, as originally supposed, the one-eyed giants whom Ulysses encountered in his voyages, as related in the Homeric legends, but an entirely distinct Thracian tribe, which derived its name from king Cyclops. After being expelled from Thrace, where were their early homes, they migrated to Crete and Lycia; thence following the fortunes of Prœtus, and giving him protection with the gigantic walls which they constructed as against Acrisius, his twin brother, who was very quarrelsome, as twin brothers not often are.

These Cyclopean walls, which are still to be found throughout Greece, as already stated, and also in some parts of Italy, were made of huge, uncut polygonous stones, sometimes twenty or thirty feet wide, piled upon each other without cement, frequently irregularly, with smaller stones filling up the interstices, but occasionally in regular horizontal rows. There were, in fact, not only several kinds of these walls, but several eras in which they were built as well.

It is not, however, the intention here to discuss the nature and extent of the Pelasgic and Cyclopean constructions, it being sufficient to recall the fact that so far as the Pelasgians generally are concerned, they were not only the progenitors of most of the early architectural monuments of eastern Europe, but were skilled in the arts and learned in the fables of the gods as well, bequeathing both religious rites and many arts to their children, the Greeks. It remains only to add, also, that so closely were they identified with the art of building that it is believed their very name is derived from their leading pursuit, for it is thought that the term Pelasgi may be interpreted to mean “stone-builders” or “stone-workers.”

In this allusion to the Pelasgians as builders, it was stated at the outset that the names of the individual architects among them are not known; this was perhaps unfair to Æacus, if he can be ranked as an architect, and who is classed as a Pelasgian, although of divine parentage.

Æacus was a son of Jupiter by Ægina, daughter of the river god, Asopus, and, like the Cyclopeans, he was particularly expert in the matter of walls. He was as well a very just and pious individual or myth, who was frequently called upon to hold the scales of justice, not only as between mortals, but also immortals. He was born on the Island of Ægina, the temporary residence of his mother, after whom it was named. At the time of his birth the island was uninhabited. This very unpleasant condition of isolation for the mother and son was quickly remedied by Jupiter, who changed the ants that abounded there into men, placing Æacus over them as king.

Æacus always kept on the very best of terms with the gods, propitiating them in many ways, and at last becoming a great favorite with them. Indeed, so strong was his influence in celestial circles that at one time when Greece was afflicted with a drought, in consequence of a murder that had been committed, the Delphic oracle declared that the only person who could help the situation at all was Æacus. He was accordingly appealed to and persuaded to petition the gods for relief. The result was that his petition was favorably answered. Æacus thereupon erected a temple to Zeus Panhellenius on Mount Panhellenion to show his gratitude, and possibly to keep himself in that position where he might trespass upon the good-nature of his heavenly friends again at some future time, should there be necessity.

Æacus surrounded his island with high walls to protect his people against pirates. It is probable that these walls attracted the admiration of Apollo and Neptune, and prompted them to retain the professional services of their builder to assist them in erecting the walls of Troy. But here it was that Æacus failed, for as one diamond can only be accurately judged when placed in comparison with another diamond, so Æacus, however successful he may have been as a wall-builder by himself, was outclassed when he came into competition with the occult knowledge of Apollo and Neptune.

The story is that when the Trojan walls were completed, three dragons appeared and rushed upon them to test their strength. The two dragons which attacked those parts of the walls built by the celestial associates of Æacus had their heads broken for their pains, but the one which flew at the mortal’s share of the work made a hole in the wall which let it into the city. Apollo at once prophesied that Troy would eventually fall through the hands of the Æacids, which prophecy, of course, proved true. Whether this failure had anything to do with the future of Æacus or not, it would be difficult to say, but the fact is that after his death he became one of the three judges in Hades, with special jurisdiction over the Europeans, which necessarily insured his being overworked until the end of time.

With a people possessed of so large and varied an assortment of deities, suited to every possible human need and shade of mortal endeavor, it would be strange indeed if there was not some mythical or legendary character among the Greek gods to preside over architecture, if not as a distinct art, at all events in association with some of its kindred branches. That the Greeks did not ignore such a necessity is found to have been the case, and the great Dædalus rises most admirably to the occasion in personifying the early infancy of architecture as well as sculpture and wood-carving.

Dædalus, like most of his spiritual relations and associates, led a life of much romance and adventure, not unmixed with hardship and trial. He was either a native Athenian or Cretan, a point upon which there is some dispute, as well as upon another involving his parentage. It is perhaps sufficient to know that Dædalus flourished in the age of Minos and Theseus, and was introduced more or less into the legends pertaining to those two early characters.

It is upon Dædalus that responsibility must rest for the first introduction of jealousy into the personality of artists, a vice, by the way, which they have never been quite able to shake off from his time to the present. Dædalus was rather sorely afflicted with this unfortunate trait, and to its early exhibition is due much of his subsequent misfortune. It was in connection with his devotion to sculpture that his jealousy first involved him in trouble. He became very expert as a carver generally, and undertook to instruct his nephew Perdix in the art. In due time and under the careful tutorage of his uncle, Perdix also became proficient, and in a moment of inspiration is said to have invented that very useful tool of the mechanic, the saw. This it was that excited Dædalus, who, in a fit of jealous rage, threw his nephew over the Pelasgic walls of the Acropolis, killing him instantly as he supposed.

Dædalus was, of course, condemned to death for this unseemly and cruel manifestation of envy, but managed to escape and fly to Crete. There his professional reputation had preceded him, and he obtained the friendship of king Minos. In Crete he developed his latent architectural skill, and built a very elaborate and intricate dwelling for the hideous monster Minotaur, since known as the celebrated labyrinth at Cnossus. The story of how Theseus, with the connivance of Ariadne, the charming daughter of Minos, slew this monster, is one of the most thrilling of the mythological legends, and is quite familiar.

Just how Dædalus incurred the displeasure of Minos does not seem to be very clearly stated by the early authorities. It appears that he was in some way entangled with the creation of a wooden cow, also with Pasiphaë, the wife of Minos, and even with the birth of the horrible Minotaur. Possibly it may have been Minos who this time became jealous. However that may be, the friendship which had existed between Dædalus and the king finally became strained, and the former was compelled to fly the country, which he did in a very literal way, as king Minos had seized all the ships on the coast of the island, cutting off, in consequence, the only means of escape. The architect, however, possessed much ingenuity and inventive genius of his own, even to a more marked degree than that manifested by the nephew he had dropped over the Athenian precipice, and with the aid of some feathers, a little wax, and Pasiphaë, who secretly contributed her assistance, he manufactured a pair of wings for himself, and another pair for his son, Icarus, who was with him at the time. Thus it will be seen that the first flying machines were invented by an architect.

[Illustration: THE FLIGHT OF DÆDALUS AND ICARUS.]

When the father and son started for Sicily, over the Ægean sea, like a pair of huge birds, Dædalus flew conservatively and cautiously, being careful not to rise too near the sun, where it was supposed by the ancients to be very hot; but Icarus, with the spirit of youth and the enjoyment of the exhilaration consequent upon the novelty of his method of locomotion, gave a deaf ear to the protests of his father, and, in emulation of Apollo, soared so high that the sun melted the wax in his wings. His feathers flew off, and down he dropped into the waves below. He was drowned, and that part of the Ægean sea into which he fell was afterward called the Icarian sea, in commemoration of this unfortunate accident, which Darwin has so well described in verse:

“... With melting wax and loosened strings, Sunk hapless Icarus on unfaithful wings; Headlong he rushed through the affrighted air, With limbs distorted and dishevelled hair; His scattered plumage danced upon the wave, And sorrowing Nereids decked his watery grave. O’er his pale corse their pearly sea-flowers shed, And strewed with crimson moss his marble bed; Struck in their coral towers the passing bell, And wide in ocean tolled his echoing knell.”

Dædalus, who could not stop to rescue his son, continued steadily on his course, and, attempting no experiments with his frail wings, finally landed safely in Sicily, where he established himself again, professionally, under the royal patronage of Cocalus, king of the Sicani. Here he did most excellent work, until king Minos, his old enemy, found him out, and began to make it unpleasant for him again. Minos, hearing that Dædalus was in Sicily, sailed with a great fleet to that island, but fortunately for the architect, his enemy was murdered as soon as he arrived there by Cocalus or his daughter. In the mean time Dædalus, anticipating the trouble that was in store for him, again made an escape, this time to Sardinia, where he tarried a while, but finally visited other countries, notably Egypt.

These are the substantial facts of Dædalus’s career, as contained in the earlier legends, but later Greek writers tell a much more fanciful and improbable story of his life, which there is no urgent necessity to believe, as the one mentioned is quite fanciful enough and probably more authentic. They say, among other things, that Dædalus was an astrologer, and that he taught his son that science, who, soaring above plain truths, lost his wits and was drowned in an abyss of difficulties.

Dædalus may have been an astrologer and may have been other things as well, but that he was an architect cannot be doubted from the fact that so many buildings are ascribed to him. Among his works may be mentioned the Colymbethra, or reservoir in Sicily, from which the river Alabon flowed into the sea; another an impregnable city near Agrigentum, in which was the royal palace of Cocalus; still another a cave in the territory of Selinus, in which the vapor arising from a subterranean fire was received in such a way as to answer for a vapor bath. He enlarged the summit of Mount Eryx for a foundation for the temple of Venus, and he is said to have been the author of the temples of Apollo at Capua and Cumæ, and the temple of Artemis Britomartis in Crete. In Egypt he was the architect of a very beautiful propylæum, or vestibule to the temple of Hephæstus at Memphis, for which he was rewarded by being permitted to erect in it a statue of himself, the work of his own hands.

As a sculptor he also executed many works of art—but the architectural side of his career can only be considered here. It will not be out of place, however, to mention some of the inventions ascribed to him to assist the mechanic. It is claimed for him that he was an expert carpenter, having been taught that trade by Minerva, and that he originated the axe, the plumb-line, the auger and glue.

Dædalus, in fact, seems to have personified the earliest Grecian art, and his name, which, when translated, signifies “ingenious,” or “inventive,” stands for that period in Greece when form and shape and expression were given inanimate substances by the use of tools and mechanical appliances.

When Dædalus threw his nephew over the high walls of the Acropolis, and naturally thought that he had killed him—an opinion in which it is apparent the people of Athens shared—he was very much mistaken, for Minerva, the patron goddess of the city, realizing what a great mistake it would be to allow so bright and promising a young man to go to an early death, exercised her magic, and saved him by changing the falling artisan into a bird, which was given his name, “Perdix,” or, as translated, Partridge.

To Perdix, who was especially skilful as a worker in wood, is attributed, in addition to the invention of the saw, suggested to him by the backbone of a fish or the teeth of a serpent, it would be difficult to say which, the chisel, the compasses and the potter’s wheel. Whether he invented any of these things after he became a partridge or not is another mythical uncertainty, but probably not, as his changed condition and feathers would have made it very awkward for him to have done so, although most anything was possible in those days.

Perdix is also called Talos by some writers, and Pausanias mentions him by still another name, Calos, and states that after his death he was buried somewhere on the road leading from the theatre in Athens to the Acropolis.

It might be interesting, but certainly a task beyond the scope of this book, to mention all the mythical personages of the archaic or early period of Grecian art, who were in a way more or less remote, responsible for special features of artistic treatment that graced the buildings of that time, such, for instance, as Dibutades, who was the first to make masks on the edges of gutter tiles. Dibutades was a sculptor, and the idea which he originated is said to have been suggested to him by seeing his daughter trace the lines of her lover’s profile around the shadow which it cast upon a wall. He filled in the lines with clay, and, moulding it to the face, gave to the world the art of modelling.

Among the artists belonging to the Dædalien, or legendary period of Greece, who may be classed more distinctively as architects, however, were Polycritus, who had to do with the building of the town of Tanagra by Poemander, and Pteras, who was supposed to have been the architect of the second temple to Apollo at Delphi. The legend is that the first temple was made of branches of the wild laurel from Tempe, and that Pteras constructed the second of wax and bees’ wings—rather an unsubstantial building material, it might be inferred. Eucheir, a painter, and Chersiphron and Smilis, architects and statuaries, are also of this traditional period, and were representative of skill in their arts.

All these names, however, although supposed to have been originally purely mythological, were probably later assumed by or given to mortals who were specially expert in the particular branch of art which the name taken suggested. These individuals, to complicate matters, no doubt, became entangled with the early mythological stories, and finally lost their identity completely, or to such an extent as to make it quite impossible to separate the fact from the fiction in their respective cases.

An illustration of such a confusion is to be found in respect to the architects, Rhœcus and Theodorus, who had to do with the building of the temple of Hera at Samos, for the worship of which goddess Samos was celebrated, and who, in association with Smilis, were the architects of the labyrinth at Lemnos.

The writers who have mentioned these artists are quite numerous, and have so differed in respect to their dates, and confounded the accounts of their careers and achievements, that it is difficult to sift anything like a satisfactory story from the confusion created. The most probable deduction that has been made, however, is that Rhœcus flourished about 640 B.C., and was a son of Phileas of Samos; that Theodorus, the architect, was his son, and that another Theodorus, a statuary, sometimes mistaken for the architect, was a nephew of the architect Theodorus, the son of Telecles, also a gifted sculptor, and a grandson of Rhœcus.

The temple of Hera, alluded to as the work of the father and son, was three hundred and forty-four feet long by one hundred and sixty feet wide, and, according to the “Antiquities of Ionia,” a decastyle, dipteral structure, or possessed of a double row of columns composed of ten columns in each row. Pausanias thinks that the temple was of very great antiquity, a fact apparent to him from the statue of Hera which it contained, which was made by Smilis, of wood, as were the early statues of Greece.

The Lemnian labyrinth, according to Pliny, contained fifty columns and innumerable statues, and had very remarkable massive gates, so delicately poised that a child might open or shut them. Modern travellers have had difficulty in finding any trace of this labyrinth, although there is little doubt that it once existed. It is not to be classed with the more visionary labyrinth in which the Minotaur was caged.

It is claimed for both Rhœcus and Theodorus that they were the first to invent the art of casting statues in bronze or iron, but as this art was known before their time by the Phœnicians, it is likely that they were responsible for nothing more than having introduced it into Greece. This is probably true also of other early mythical characters of Greece, to whom is attributed certain inventions in the arts which have been found since to have existed much earlier than their time in Egypt or elsewhere.

Theodorus is also credited with having been the architect of the old Scias at Sparta, and of having advised the use of charcoal beneath the foundation of the temple dedicated to Artemis, at Ephesus, as a remedy against the dampness of the site. Theodorus was a great admirer of his father and of the temple to Hera, which they built together. He attested his appreciation of the latter by writing a book descriptive of it.

As for Smilis, who belongs to the mythical period, and whose name when translated stands for “a knife for carving wood,” or “a sculptor’s chisel,” he is also accredited with having been the first to devise the art of modelling in clay. He is to be classed more as a sculptor than an architect, but of an inferior standing to Dædalus. In fact, his only connection with architecture, according to Pliny, seems to have been his association with Rhœcus and Theodorus in the building of the labyrinth at Lemnos. It is possible that even here he was employed more in the line of a sculptor than in lending any professional assistance as an architect.

Pausanias mentions a pupil of Theodorus of Samos, who, it would appear, achieved considerable distinction both as an architect and sculptor, but more especially in the latter capacity. His name is given as Gitiadas, and his birthplace as Lacedæmon, where he flourished about 724 B.C., as stated by some authorities, but much later according to others. The architectural work for which he receives credit was the temple of Athena Polionchos at Sparta, which, it is said, was constructed entirely of bronze. It also contained a bronze statue of the goddess of Gitiadas’s own workmanship, and many bas-reliefs representing the labors of Hercules, the exploits of the Tyndarids, Hephæstus releasing his mother from her chains, the Nymphs arming Perseus for the expedition against Medusa, and other mythological subjects, all executed in the same metal. This extensive use of bronze suggested the name “Brazen House,” which was given the temple. It would seem that Gitiadas was possessed of other accomplishments, and served Minerva with equal distinction as a poet, writing his poems all in the Doric dialect.

A still stranger _compôte_ of fact and fable, of hypothesis and conjecture, of celestial and terrestrial biography, is to be found in the accounts of the brothers Agamedes and Trophonius, who were the architects of the great temple of Apollo at Delphi, and of the treasury of Hyrieus, king of Hyria in Bœotia.

The temple to the beautiful and accomplished son of Jupiter and Latona, the god of music and prophecy, as well as other things of equal or less consequence, was the fourth to be erected upon the same site on Mount Parnassus, in the ancient city of Delphi, known to the older poets as Pytho, a name derived from the serpent Python which Apollo slew. In this temple, which was the first of the four to be built with stone, the others having been constructed out of the branches of the bay tree and other equally perishable materials, dwelt the much respected and frequently consulted Delphic Oracle. The spot in the temple from which the prophetic vapor issued to inspire the priestess with second sight was said to be the central point of the earth, and that where the two eagles despatched by Jupiter to ascertain that point met and fell.

Pythia, the priestess of Apollo, who gave mouth to the oracles, sat on a sacred tripod placed over the opening from which the vapor issued, and gave forth her words of wisdom in prose or poetry as the occasion demanded. If in prose, her prognostications would be immediately verified, and if in verse some time must elapse before they could be fulfilled. Pythia was not always on duty, but could be consulted only on certain days during the month of Busius in the spring.

There is no doubt but that she made some very remarkable prophecies, but, alas! it is also recorded that, like some of the political oracles of these degenerate times, her prophetic vision was not infrequently influenced by “a previous interview.” A notable case of this kind was that in which the Alemæonidæ were entangled; who for political reasons and effect rebuilt the same temple after it was destroyed by fire in the year 548 B.C., as we shall see later.

But we have drifted from the subject. It is claimed by some that Agamedes was the son of Stymphalus, who was murdered and had his body cut up in pieces, and a grandson of the old ancestor of the Arcadian Arcas, who in turn was a son of Zeus. Others say that the father of Agamedes was Apollo, and his mother was Epicaste, and still others are of the opinion that his parents were none other than Zeus himself and Iocaste, another name for Epicaste, and that Trophonius was his son. All this genealogy is, however, disturbed if we accept the more probable one, that he was a son of Erginus, king of Orchomenus, and that he was a brother of Trophonius. By the way, Trophonius is also said to have been a son of Apollo. When these two young men attained to manhood they became very expert in the art of building temples to the gods and palaces for kings. Thus having established enviable reputations in their profession, they were retained to plan and supervise the works mentioned.

It is in respect to these architects that the first authentic account of a misunderstanding as to professional compensation is related. It must not be thought that because some of the early architects were related to the nobility of Mount Olympus, they were any the less mercenary than are architects in our own time, or were any more inclined to work for nothing than are their professional descendants of to-day.

Plutarch tells us that Agamedes and Trophonius, after working hard upon the Delphic temple, and not receiving any pay, began to lose faith in the mortals who were backing the undertaking. As they grew more and more dubious about their compensation, and possibly having notes or bills to meet, they finally decided to appeal directly to Apollo, in whose glorification the shrine had been built.

Apollo, who was consulted through the Delphic Oracle, informed them that he must have time to think the matter over. In other words, he could not be hurried in his decision, but would give them an answer at the end of seven days. It is not unlikely that the Oracle saw an occasion here where it might be a matter of financial prudence to consult with the other side before rendering a decision. However that may be, the two architects were told that Apollo wished that they should spend the intervening time in “festive indulgence.” Thinking from this, quite naturally, that they were in the good graces of the god, and suspecting no ungodly duplicity, Agamedes and Trophonius set about to enjoy themselves according to the most liberal interpretation of their instructions. The result was that at the end of the seventh day they were found dead in their beds, whether from too much festivity on their part or too much duplicity on the part of the Oracle, no one knows, but the inference is conclusive that as they were dead it was not necessary to give them the professional compensation they had been so anxiously demanding.

Cicero tells the story a little differently, and eliminates the question of compensation from it. He says that they consulted Apollo to know what in his opinion was “best for man”? This being a much easier question to handle, Apollo took but three days to answer it, but the consequences of the consultation to poor Agamedes and Trophonius were quite as disastrous. It may be that, taking everything into consideration, it is best for man to be dead, but most architects don’t think so, and had Agamedes and Trophonius anticipated such an answer, it is probable that they would have asked no questions.

Pausanias relates an altogether different legend and connects it with the treasury of Hyrieus, which Agamedes and Trophonius built, instead of with the temple of Apollo. The story by Pausanias would tend to show that these architects were even more mercenary than Plutarch has given us to understand they were.

It seems that in constructing the treasury they contrived to have a stone so placed that it could be taken away from the outside of the building at any time, and thus offer an entrance to the vaults. No one of course had any knowledge of this secret entrance but themselves. In consequence, after the building was finished, and it was used for the purpose for which it was intended, these two covetous brothers carried away from time to time goodly portions of the treasure as it was deposited. The king soon heard that there was a leak in his treasury, and that he was losing money rapidly. He was naturally annoyed and much perplexed when he found that the locks and seals of his treasure house remained intact and uninjured. He thereupon set a trap to catch the thief. Just what kind of a trap it was is not explained, but after some little time Agamedes was caught, and Trophonius, finding his brother ensnared, cut off his head, to save his own, doubtless, and prevent the discovery of his association in the robbery. This very unfraternal act of Trophonius was not allowed to go unpunished, however, and Apollo, or some other god, caused him to be swallowed up in the grove of Lebadea.

Pausanias further states that Erginus, the father of Agamedes, was known as the “Protector of Labor,” that Trophonius was called the “Nourisher,” and that Agamedes had the reputation of being the “Very Prudent One.” There can be no doubt about Agamedes’s prudence, such as it was.

Trophonius, it appears, had a still further career after his death, as an oracle, conducting his business from the spot where he was swallowed up in Lebadea. He was especially prophetic in matters relating to futurity. Those desiring to consult him were conducted to a cavern, and furnished with a ladder, by means of which they could descend into it. They were then given the information for which they were in quest, either by means of their eyes, or their ears, or such of their senses as the occasion seemed best to suggest. Some say that one of these visitors, after having gone into the cave, and being treated in this way by the oracle, returned never to smile again; but Pausanias contradicts the story.

There is another belief in regard to these architects which must be simply alluded to. It is that Agamedes and Trophonius were deities of the Pelasgian times; that Trophonius was a giver of food from the bosom of the earth, and for that reason was worshipped in a cavern, and that Agamedes was not the wretched thief of Pausanias, but, on the contrary, a very generous character, who gave liberally from underground granaries.

A parallel to the story of the robbery of the treasury of Hyrieus by Agamedes and Trophonius is told by Herodotus in respect to the two sons of the builder of the treasury of the Egyptian king Rhampsinitus. These two young men, it seems, were also caught, while pilfering, in a trap, described with great circumstantiality by the “Father of History.”