CHAPTER IX.

THE ALEXANDRIAN ARCHITECTS.

The boldest, most ingenious and original architect who found favor in the sight of Alexander the Great was undoubtedly Dinocrates, who, like his august patron, was also a Macedonian, and to whom an allusion has already been made in connection with the temple of Diana at Ephesus.

[Illustration: DINOCRATES BEFORE ALEXANDER THE GREAT.]

His very introduction into the notice and attention of his distinguished fellow-countryman would tend to prove that Dinocrates was a person of expediency, if nothing else. Let Vitruvius tell the story: “Dinocrates, the architect, relying on the powers of his skill and ingenuity, while Alexander was in the midst of his conquests, set out from Macedonia to the army, desirous of gaining the commendation of his sovereign. That his introduction to the royal presence might be facilitated, he obtained letters from his countrymen and relations to men of the first rank and nobility about the king’s person, by whom, being kindly received, he besought them to take the earliest opportunity of accomplishing his wish. They promised fairly, but were slow in performing, waiting, as they alleged, for a proper occasion. Thinking, however, that they deferred this without just grounds, he took his own course for the object he had in view. He was, I should state, a man of tall stature, pleasing countenance and altogether of dignified appearance. Trusting to the gifts with which nature had endowed him, he put off his ordinary clothing, and, having annointed himself with oil, crowned his head with a wreath of poplar, slung a lion’s skin across his left shoulder, and, carrying a large club in his right hand, he sallied forth to the royal tribunal, at a period when the king was dispensing justice.

“The novelty of his appearance excited the attention of the people, and Alexander, soon discovering with astonishment the object of their curiosity, ordered the crowd to make way for him, and demanded to know who he was. ‘A Macedonian architect,’ replied Dinocrates, ‘who suggests schemes and designs worthy your royal renown. I propose to form Mount Athos into the statue of a man holding a spacious city in his left hand and in his right a huge vase, into which shall be collected all the streams of the mountain, which shall thence be poured into the sea.’

“Alexander, delighted at the proposition, made immediate inquiry if the soil of the neighborhood were of a quality capable of yielding sufficient produce for such a state. When, however, he found that all its supplies must be furnished by sea, he thus addressed Dinocrates: ‘I admire the grand outline of your scheme, and am well pleased with it; but I am of opinion he would be much to blame who planted a colony on such a spot. For as an infant is nourished by the milk of its mother, depending thereon for its progress to maturity, so a city depends on the fertility of the country surrounding it for its riches, its strength in population, and not less for its defence against an enemy. Though your plan might be carried into execution, yet I think it impolitic. I nevertheless request your attendance upon me, that I may otherwise avail myself of your ingenuity.’ From that time Dinocrates was in constant attendance on the king, and followed him into Egypt.”

Vitruvius does not explain why it was that Dinocrates singled out the curious costume, or rather lack of costume, which he did to attract the attention of Alexander. It was, in fact, the garb of an athlete. Among the early Greeks a professional athlete was regarded as a person of social distinction, and if a particularly successful one, a personage to whom a statue might be erected, or upon whom other honors might be conferred. In fact, the uniform of an athlete was, as a rule, a passport to the best society. Dinocrates undoubtedly knew this, and as he was seeking an _entré_ into the very highest court circles, he took not an extraordinary method of gaining it.

Mount Athos, which the architect proposed to take as a basis for what was really to be a gigantic statue of Alexander himself, was a pyramidal mountain, at the extreme end of the Acte peninsula, having an altitude of 6780 feet, and crowned with a cap of white marble, which Dinocrates undoubtedly had in mind to utilize for a helmet. The country surrounding the mountain was remarkable for its rural beauty, its woods and ravines, and its people for their longevity. No wonder that Alexander did not wish to disturb this peaceful neighborhood.

Alexander Pope, who has given us an admirable rhymed translation of the songs of Homer, seems to have been greatly impressed with the practicability of this remarkable idea of Dinocrates. Spence, the author of “Polymetis,” was once discussing the incident which Vitruvius relates with Pope, remarking that he could not see how the Macedonian architect could ever have carried his proposal into execution, when Pope at once replied: “For my part, I have long since had an idea how the thing might be done; and if anybody would make me a present of a Welsh mountain and pay the workmen, I would undertake to see it executed. I have quite formed it sometimes in my imagination: the figure must be in a reclining posture, because of the hollowing that would be necessary, and for the city’s being in one hand. It should be a rude, unequal hill, and might be helped with groves of trees for the eyebrows, and a wood for the hair. The natural green turf should be left wherever it would be necessary to represent the ground he reclines on. It should be contrived so that the true point of view should be at a considerable distance. When you are near it, it should still have the appearance of a rough mountain, but at a proper distance such a rising should be the leg, and such another an arm. It would be best if there were a river, or rather a lake, at the bottom of it, for the rivulet that came through his other hand to tumble down the hill and discharge itself into the sea.”

Mrs. Baillie, in her “Tour on the Continent,” has also a comment to make on this proposition of Dinocrates and recalls the fact that a somewhat similar idea was advanced to Napoleon I. “It is somewhat singular,” she says, “that Mr. Pope should have thought this mad project practicable, but it appears that there are still persons who dream of such extravagant and fruitless undertakings. Some modern Dinocrates had suggested to Bonaparte to have cut from the mountain of the Simplon an immense colossal figure, as a sort of Genius of the Alps. This was to have been of such enormous size that all the passengers should have passed between its legs and arms in a zigzag direction.”

Another ingenious conception is attributed to Dinocrates in respect to the temple of Diana, which he erected in the city of Alexandria for Ptolemy Philadelphus, in memory of the sister-wife of that potentate, Arsinoë. This relationship, by the way, is said to have been the first ever formed, although it became quite common later in the time of the Ptolemies. Arsinoë was much beloved by her husband, who not only called an entire district in Egypt, Arsinoites, after her, but also gave her name to several cities within his realm. Her features are still preserved to us upon coins struck in her honor, and which represent her crowned with a diadem.

When Dinocrates received the commission to erect a temple to so highly esteemed and devotedly remembered a queen, he apparently set his ingenuity to work to give birth to a novelty that should not only please the king, but astonish his subjects. It finally matured in a proposition to roof the proposed temple with loadstones, in order that they might attract into the air an iron statue of Arsinoë. As the figure of the queen would thus appear suspended in the air without any apparent mundane reason, the inference could be drawn that it was by the divine will. Some authorities say that the entire inner walls of the temple were to have been lined with loadstones, so that the statue might appear suspended in the very centre of the cell, touching nothing. Fortunately, both Dinocrates and Ptolemy died before the project could be executed, otherwise they might have been witnesses to the miserable failure such a chimerical fancy must have proved if attempted, as any modern electrician will attest.

When at Ectabana with Alexander, Dinocrates had still another opportunity to display his resourceless originality, in directing the obsequies of Hephæstion, which were of a most extraordinarily elaborate nature, costing, it is recorded, 12,000 talents, or what would be equivalent to over $1,300,000. Hephæstion was a Macedonian and a close and warm friend of Alexander, accompanying the young king in a military capacity throughout most of his early foreign campaigns. So attached was Alexander to his friend that he not only showed him many marks of his personal esteem, but bestowed upon him in marriage Drypetis, the sister of his own bride, Statira. At Ectabana Hephæstion was attacked by a fever which had a fatal termination after an illness of seven days. Alexander’s grief over the loss of his brother-in-law was violent and extreme, and is said to have found vent in the most extravagant demonstrations. He ordered general mourning throughout the entire empire, and Dinocrates to build a funeral pile and monument to him in Babylon, where the body had been conveyed from Ectabana, at a cost of $1,000,000.

But the richest occasion afforded Dinocrates to display to the fullest his great talents and genius was the laying out of the city which Alexander determined to found in Egypt, and which, bearing the conqueror’s name, was destined to become the centre of the commercial activity of the new empire. This great city, which rapidly grew to be one of the most populous of ancient times, and which has maintained, if not its original share of industrial supremacy, at least an important existence throughout the ages that have elapsed from its nativity to the present time, we cannot resist thinking was probably as much the inspiration of Alexander’s favorite architect, realizing its professional possibilities, as it was that of Alexander himself. Pliny informs us that Dinocrates died before he could give the city the full proportions which he had planned, but not certainly until its principal features were executed.

Strabo, the “squint-eyed” geographer, gives a more circumstantial account of the planning of the new city by Dinocrates and his powerful and ambitious patron. It must have been indeed an interesting sight to see the two Macedonians upon the plane which was selected for the site of the city, laying out the streets and avenues, marking the run of the walls that were to surround it, locating the different sites where were to stand the public buildings, parks, palaces and temples, and perhaps disputing and arguing over the questions that arose, as two such dominant intellects might very naturally be supposed to do.

The basis of the plan were two main streets crossing each other at right angles, each one hundred feet wide and lined with colonnades. The other streets were to run parallel to these. Near the centre of the proposed city was to be clustered the public buildings, the Museum and the Serna, which subsequently contained an alabaster coffin in which rested the remains of Alexander. Alabaster, which the Greeks obtained from Thebes, was much used for mortuary purposes, as well as for columns and statues.

Plutarch also describes the planning of the city as follows: “As chalk-dust was lacking, they laid out their lines on the black, loamy soil with flour, first swinging a circle to enclose a wide space, and then drawing lines as chords of the arc to complete with harmonious proportions, something like the oblong form of a soldier’s cape. While the king was congratulating himself on this plan, on a sudden a countless number of birds of various sorts flew over from the land and the lake in clouds, and, settling upon the spot, devoured in a short time all the flour, so that Alexander was much disturbed in mind at the omen involved, till the augurs restored his confidence again, telling him the city he was planning was destined to be rich in resources and a feeder of the nations of men,” a prophecy which proved its truth in the fulfilment.

Dinocrates was not, however, the only architect employed in laying out so large a city, as might naturally be supposed, although he was, of course, the governing one. How many more there were it would be difficult to say, but there is record at least of two others, both probably employed by the rapacious and unscrupulous Cleomenes, whom Alexander left in Egypt as hyparch under Ptolemy Philadelphus. Olynthius is the name given of one of these architects and Parmenion of the other. The latter was entrusted more particularly with the superintendency of the works of sculpture, especially in the temple of Serapis, which, by the way, came to be called by his name, Pharmenionis. Bryaxis is also credited with statuary work there.

Upon the island of Pharos, which was joined to the city of Alexander by a wide mole, about three-quarters of a mile long, in which were two bridges over channels communicating between the eastern and western harbors, was built by Ptolemy Soter and his son in the year 282 B.C., a most famous lighthouse and a very glorious ancestor of such guardians of the coast as exist to-day.

This lighthouse was planned by Sostratus, another remarkable character in the architectural roll of honor of those early times. He was a native of Cnidus, a town in Caria in Asia Minor, to the south of Ionia and Lydia, celebrated also as the birthplace of several other men who rose to distinction in the early days of the Greek colonies as mathematicians and astronomers. Cnidus was almost equally remarkable in its possession of two famous works of the statuary’s art: one the figure of a lion carved from a single block of Pentelic marble, ten feet long by six feet wide, which was executed to commemorate the great victory of Caria; the other a statue of Venus by Praxiteles, which occupied one of the three temples to the goddess in that city. It is said that Nicomedes of Bithynia was so fascinated by the rare beauty of this figure that he offered to liquidate the debt of Cnidus, which was by no means a small one, if the citizens would cede the statue to him. They refused, however, to part with it at any price, esteeming it one of the glories of their city. Cnidus contained many beautiful architectural monuments, the ruins of which are still prominent.

Sostratus, the architect, was the son of Dexiphanes, and must not be mistaken for any one of several other artists of the same name who are conspicuously mentioned by the early writers. His first fame was acquired through his connection with the celebrated so-called hanging gardens which he built in his native country. They consisted of a series of porticos or colonnades supporting terraces, surrounding an enclosure, possibly the Agora of the city, and served as a promenade for the inhabitants. Pliny says that Sostratus was the first to erect anything of the kind. This statement may be excused, either because the hanging gardens of Sostratus differed widely from the well-known ones of Babylon, which antedated them by several hundred years, or because Pliny forgot for a moment those of Semiramis.

Strabo, who was probably right in his judgment, thinks that the greatest of Sostratus’s works was the towering lighthouse at Pharos, which he built at a cost of about $900,000, although from its size it would seem that it should have cost more. This colossal tower at once took its place among the seven wonders of the ancient world. It pierced the sky at a height of four hundred and fifty feet, or about one hundred and seventy-five feet above the towers of the Brooklyn Bridge and fifty feet above the torch with which the Goddess of Liberty illuminates the harbor of New York. But its height alone was not more marvellous than its other proportions, which were upon a most extravagant scale. The ground story was hexagonal, the sides alternately convex and concave, and each was one-eighth of a mile in length. The second and third stories were each of the same form, although decreasing in size; the fourth was square, flanked by four round towers, and the fifth or top story was circular. A grand staircase led through each story to the roof of the building, where every night massive fires were lighted, revealing the sea for a hundred miles.

When we consider that this colossal building was made entirely of wrought stone—when we reflect upon the amount of labor involved in its construction, its ponderous size and dizzy altitude—we cannot but marvel at the extraordinary breadth of conception manifested by its architect and builders and the tenacity with which they must have held to the completion of their huge undertaking. It is not to be wondered at that when Sostratus stood off and contemplated this mighty product of his imagination and genius, after its completion, he should have been actuated with the desire to have his name associated with it for all time, and indelibly engraved somewhere upon its imperishable stone. The story is that Sostratus engraved an inscription upon one of the stones which he afterward covered with cement, and on the cement he inscribed the name of Ptolemy, knowing that in time the cement would decay and leave exposed the hidden writing upon the stone beneath. Strabo says that the concealed inscription read: “SOSTRATUS, THE FRIEND OF KINGS, MADE ME;” but Lucien gives it differently, thus: “SOSTRATUS OF CNIDUS, THE SON OF DEXIPHANES [that he might not be mistaken for any other Sostratus, doubtless], TO THE GODS THE SAVIORS FOR THE SAFETY OF MARINERS.”

Pliny does not share the opinion that the inscription was a concealed one, but speaks of the incident as a special instance of the magnanimity of Ptolemy, that he should not only have allowed the name of the architect to be inscribed upon the building, but that he should have also left its nature and language to the discretion of Sostratus. The words “Gods the Saviors,” he believes, referred to the reigning king and queen, with their successors, who were ambitious of the title “Soteros” or Savior.

It would be unfair, perhaps, to the great Grecian architects of the time of Alexander if Andronicus Cyrrhestes were to be classed among them, and Cyrrhestes also, having been a scientific character with a leaning toward astronomy, might with some justice feel aggrieved were he to know that he was to be considered in a category of professional men to which his calling was in no degree related. Still the little building which he designed and erected in Athens is such an interesting one, and has always held so prominent a place among the architectural treasures of the Attic city, that it might be regarded as an intentional oversight to leave him out in a book of this kind. Some authorities place this building as belonging to the time of Alexander the Great, others believe that it was erected at a later period, and one writer gives Andronicus an existence as late as 100 B.C.

This building, which Delambre speaks of as “the most curious existing monument of the practical gnomonics of antiquity,” has sometimes been called the “Tower of Æolus.” Let us see what Vitruvius has to say regarding the winds and the building: “Some have chosen to reckon only four winds: the East, blowing from the equinoctial sunrise; the South, from the noonday sun; the West, from the equinoctial sun-setting; and the North, from the Polar Stars. But those who are more exact have reckoned eight winds, particularly Andronicus Cyrrhestes, who on this system erected an octagon marble tower at Athens, and on every side of the octagon he has wrought a figure in relievo, representing the wind which blew against that side; the top of this tower he finished with a conical marble, on which he placed a brazen Triton, holding a wand in his hand; this Triton is so contrived that he turns with the wind, and always stops when he directly faces it, pointing his wand over the figure of the wind at that time blowing.”

It is in connection with his allusion to the tower of Cyrrhestes, and his description of how to construct a sun-dial, that Vitruvius gives some valuable hints as to the way the ancients laid out a city so that its streets were protected from the prevailing winds. He says: “Let a marble slab be fixed level in the centre of the space enclosed by the walls, or let the ground be smoothed or levelled, so that the slab may not be necessary. In the centre of this plane, for the purpose of marking the shadow correctly, a brazen gnomon must be erected. The shadow cast by the gnomon is to be marked about the fifth ante-meridional hour, and the extreme point of the shadow accurately determined. From the central point of the space whereon the gnomon stands, as a centre, with a distance equal to the length of the shadow just observed, describe a circle. After the sun has passed the meridian watch the shadow which the gnomon continues to cast till the moment when its extremity again touches the circle which has been described. From the two points thus obtained in the circumference of the circle describe two arcs intersecting each other, and through their intersection and the centre of the circle first described draw a line to its extremity: this line will indicate the north and south points. One-sixteenth part of the circumference of the whole circle is to be set out to the right and left of the north and south points, and drawing lines from the points thus obtained to the centre of the circle, we have one-eighth part of the circumference for the region of the north, and another eighth part for the region of the south. Divide the remainders of the circumference on each side into three equal parts, and the divisions or regions of the eight winds will be obtained; then let the directions of the streets and lanes be determined by the tendency of the lines which separate the different regions of the winds. Thus will their force be broken and turned away from the houses and public ways; for if the directions of the streets be parallel to those of the winds, the latter will rush through them with greater violence, since from occupying the whole space of the surrounding country they will be forced up through a narrow pass. Streets or public ways ought therefore to be so set out that when the winds blow hard their violence may be broken against the angles of the different divisions of the city, and thus dissipated.”

This tower still stands a fairly well-preserved ruin, and retains many of its original architectural features and decorations. There are two entrances through distyle porticos, the capitals of the columns presenting an original treatment of the Corinthian order. One of these entrances is on the northeast side and the other on the southwest. On the south side is a circular apsidical projection. This was probably originally used for a reservoir to hold the water brought from the spring Clepsydra, on the northwest of the Acropolis, which was employed as the power to run a clepsydra, or water-clock, taking its name, as may be inferred, from the spring. The remains of this clock are still visible. The exterior of the building was also arranged as a sun-clock, having lines engraved upon the different sides, with gnomons above them, forming a series of sun-dials which indicated the time by shadows. Thus were the people of Athens kept publicly posted as to the time of day—by the sun when it shone, or by the water-clock when it was obscured by clouds.

The character of the architecture, the proportions of the building, as well as its secular uses, were all quite out of harmony with Grecian art and methods, and are essentially Roman. As a similar structure existed at one time in Rome, supposed to have been built by the same scientist, the thought is naturally suggested that Cyrrhestes may have been a Roman.

In closing this reference to the prominent architects of the disintegrating period of Grecian history, it would seem that it only remains to recall Philo, or Philon, as some of the writers have preferred to call him, once more, who flourished about 318 B.C. As there were several artists of his name who became conspicuous at about the same time, our Philo will be distinguished from the others in being a native Athenian.

The reader will probably remember that he has been already mentioned as the architect employed by Demetrius Phalerus, to build a portico of twelve Doric columns to the great temple of Ceres and Proserpine at Eleusis, originally erected by Ictinus; but his most ambitious work was probably the armory, so called, which he designed for Lycurgus in the Piræus, and which it is said was large enough to contain the arms for one thousand ships. He was also engaged in enlarging the port of Piræus, and was the architect of the white marble theatre at Athens, which was finished by Ariobarzanes, and many years afterward rebuilt by Hadrian. Vitruvius says that he also designed a number of Greek temples.

Philo must have been a man of considerable versatility, for it is related that in giving an account of his work at Piræus “he expressed himself with such precision, purity and eloquence that the Athenian people—excellent judges of those matters—pronounced him equally a fluent orator and an admirable architect.” He wrote also several works on the architecture of temples and one on the naval basin which he constructed in the Athenian port.

THE END.

INDEX OF ARCHITECTS AND ARCHITECTURAL SCULPTORS.

Æacus, 27

Agamedes, 42, 63

Agnaptus, 89

Antimachides, 80

Antiphilus, 89

Antistates, 80

Apollodorus, 19, 158

Athenis, 87

Batrachus, 162

Bryaxis, 140, 145, 174

Bupalus, 87

Calleschros, 80

Callicrates, 105, 114

Callimachus, 53, 58

Calos (_see_ Perdix).

Cannia, Luigi, 82

Celer, 155

Chersiphron, 38

Cleœtas, 133

Corœbus, 123

Cossutius, 81

Ctesiphon, 68

Cyrrhestes, Andronicus, 178

Dædalus, 30

Damophilus, 86

Daphnis, 74, 77

Demetrius, 74, 77

Detrianus, 19, 160

Dibutades, 37

Dinocrates, 19, 76, 164

Eupolinus, 133

Eurycles, 89

Gaudentius (_Note_), 17

Gitiadas, 41

Gorgasus, 86

Hermocreon, 89

Hermodorus, 163

Hermogenes, 55

Hermon, 89

Hippodamus, 105

Icarus, 32

Ictinus, 19, 107, 114, 123

Lacrates, 89

Leochares, 140, 146

Libon, 82, 84

Megacles, 89

Menalippus, 127

Metagenes, 68, 124

Mnesicles, 19, 112, 128

Mutianus, 76

Myrilla, Democopus, 133

Olynthius, 173

Parmenion, 173

Peonius, 74, 77

Perdix, 31, 36

Phileus, 140

Phidias, 13, 85, 90, 98, 115, 131

Philo, 123, 182

Philocles, 121

Polycletus, 13, 131

Polycritus, 37

Porinus, 80

Pothæus, 89

Praxiteles, 13, 74, 136, 144

Pteras, 37

Pyrrhus, 89

Pytheus, 57

Rhœcus, 19, 38

Satyrus, 140

Saurus, 162

Scopas, 58, 74, 136

Severus, 155

Silenus, 133

Smilis, 38

Sostratus, 174

Spintharus, 65

Stallius, Caius, 127

Stallius, Marius, 127

Talos (_see_ Perdix).

Tarchesius, 57

Theodorus, 19, 38, 70

Timotheus, 140, 146

Trophonius, 42, 63

Vitruvius, 20, 49, 68, 71, 79, 83, 164, 170

Transcriber’s Notes

pg 25 Changed: The Cyclopses, who belonged to Pelasgic times to: The Cyclopes, who belonged to Pelasgic times

pg 91 Changed: breaking out of the Poloponnesian war to: breaking out of the Peloponnesian war

pg 105 Changed: Hippodamus was one of the genuises of his day to: Hippodamus was one of the geniuses of his day

pg 113 Changed: and which yas called Splanchnoptes to: and which was called Splanchnoptes

pg 161 Changed: his professional acchievements was the removing to: his professional achievements was the removing

pg 172 Changed: which the Greks obtained from Thebes to: which the Greeks obtained from Thebes