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