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.”