A History of Architecture in all Countries, Volume 1, 3rd ed. / From the Earliest Times to the Present Day

by James Fergusson

Domestic Architecture.

The publication of the Count De Vogüé’s book has enabled us to realise the civil and domestic architecture of Syria in the 5th and 6th centuries with a completeness that, a very short time ago, would have been thought impossible. Owing to the fact that every part of the buildings in the Hauran was in stone, and that they were suddenly deserted on the Mahomedan conquest, never, apparently, to be re-occupied, many of the houses remain perfectly entire to the present day, and in Northern Syria only the roofs are gone.

Generally they seem to have been two storeys in height, adorned with verandahs supported by stone columns, the upper having a solid screen-fence of stone about 3 ft. 6 in. high, intended apparently as much to secure privacy to the sleeping apartments of the house as protection against falling out. In some instances the lower storey is twice the height of the upper, and contained the state apartments of the house. In others, as in that at Refadi (Woodcut No. [320]), it seems to have been intended for the offices. In the plan of a house at Moudjeleia (Woodcut No. [321]) the principal block of the house is in two storeys, with portico on ground floor and verandah over. The buildings at the back with their courtyard were probably offices, and those in front by the side of the main entrance warehouses or stores.

320. Elevation of House at Refadi. (From De Vogüé.) Scale 20 ft. to 1 in.

In some instances one is startled to find details which we are accustomed to associate with much more modern dates; as, for instance, this window (Woodcut No. [322]) from the palace at Chaqqa, which there seems no reason whatever for doubting belongs to the 3rd century—anterior to the time of Constantine! It looks more like the vagary of a French architect of the age of Francis I.

321. Plan of house at Moudjeleia.

322. Window at Chaqqa. (From De Vogüé.)

The building known as the Golden Gateway at Jerusalem and attributed to Justinian, bears in its details many striking resemblances to those of the 5th and 6th centuries in Central Syria, illustrated in De Vogüé’s book. It is situated on the east side of the Haram enclosure, and consists of a vestibule divided by columns into two aisles of three bays each vaulted with a cupola[^[231]] carried on arches, between which and the capitals of the columns is found the Byzantine dosseret already referred to. Within the eastern doorways (said to have been blocked up by Omar) are two huge monoliths 14 ft. 6 in. and 11 ft. respectively, the doorposts of an earlier gateway. Externally, on the entrance fronts (east and west), the entablature of the pilasters is carried round the circular-headed doorways which they flank; the earliest instance of this development is found in the Palace of Diocletian at Spalato, and there is a second example in the Roman gateway to the Mosque of Damascus, which probably suggested the idea to the Byzantine builders; the sharp stiff foliage of Greek type with which the ornament is carved on the Golden Gate agrees in style and character with that in the church of St. Demetrius at Thessalonica dating from the commencement of the 6th century.

323. Interior of the Golden Gateway. (From a Drawing by Catherwood. Originally published in Fisher’s ‘Oriental Album.’)

Of similar style and character are the arch-moulds of the double gate on the south wall of the Haram, and the cupolas of the interior vestibule, the columns carrying them however being probably of earlier date and possibly part of the substructure of Herod’s temple. The surface decoration of these cupolas is similar to that found in Central Syria.

324. Golden Gateway (west side). (From a Photograph.)

The sepulchral remains of Syria, both structural and rock-cut, seem nearly as numerous as the dwellings of the living, and are full of interest, not only from their frequently bearing dates, but from their presenting new types of tombs, or old types in such new forms as scarcely to be recognizable.

325. Roof of one of the Compartments of the Gate Huldah. (From De Vogüé.)

The oldest example, that of Hamrath in Souideh, dates from the 1st century B.C., and consists of a tomb 28 ft. square decorated with semi-detached Doric columns; the roof is gone, but it was probably covered with one of pyramidal form like the tomb of Zechariah (Woodcut No. [238]).

The tomb of Diogenes at Hass (Woodcut No. [326]), also square, consisted of two storeys, with a portico on the ground storey on one side, and a peristyle on all four sides of the upper storey, above which rose the central walls carrying a pyramidal roof, not stepped, as in the Mausoleum at Halicarnassus, but with projecting bosses on each stone. The same class of roof is found on other tombs, being adopted probably as the simplest method of covering over the tomb; these tombs date from the 4th and 5th centuries, and in all cases the sepulchral chambers within them are vaulted with large slabs of stone carried on stone ribs.

326. Tomb at Hass

Besides these, there is another class of tomb apparently very numerous, in which the sepulchral chamber is below the ground, with vaulted entrance rising to form a podium on which columns either two or four in number are erected;[^[232]] in the latter case the columns bearing an entablature with small pyramidal roof; in the former a fragment of architrave only, the two columns being sometimes tied together one-third of the way down by a stone band with dentils carved on it: these tombs are, many of them, dated, and belong to the 2nd and 3rd centuries.

With our present limits it is only possible to characterize generally the main features of the Byzantine style, and to indicate the sources from which further information may be obtained. In the present instance it is satisfactory to find that ample materials now exist for filling up a framework which a few years ago was almost entirely a blank. Any one who will master the works of De Vogüé, or Texier, or Salzenberg, and other minor publications, may easily acquire a fair knowledge of the older Byzantine style of architecture. Once it is grasped it will probably be acknowledged that there are few more interesting chapters than that which explains how a perfect Christian Church like that of Sta. Sophia was elaborated out of the classical edifices of ancient Rome. It will also probably be found that there are few more instructive lessons to be learnt from the study of architectural history than the tracing of the various contrivances which were so earnestly employed, during the first two centuries of Christian supremacy, in attaining this result.

CHAPTER IV.
NEO-BYZANTINE STYLE.

CONTENTS.

Sta. Irene, Constantinople—Churches at Ancyra, Trabala, and Constantinople—Churches at Thessalonica and in Greece—Domestic Architecture.

Santa Sophia at Constantinople was not only the grandest and most perfect creation of the old school of Byzantine art, but it was also the last. It seems as if the creative power of the Empire had exhausted itself in that great effort, and for long after it the history is a blank. We always knew that the two centuries which elapsed between the ages of Constantine and Justinian were ages of great architectural activity. We knew that hundreds, it may be thousands, of churches were erected during that period. With the two subsequent centuries, however, the case seems widely different. Shortly after Justinian’s death, the troubles of the Empire, the Persian wars of Heraclius, and, more than either, the rise of the Mahomedan power in the East, and of the Roman pontificate under Gregory the Great in the West—all tended so to disturb and depress the Byzantine kingdom as to leave little leisure and less means for the exercise of architectural magnificence. It is therefore hardly probable that we shall ever be in a position to illustrate the 7th and 8th centuries as we now know we can the 5th and 6th. Still, building must have gone on, because when we again meet the style, it is changed. One of the very earliest churches of the new school is that of Sta. Irene at Constantinople, rebuilt as we now find it by Leo the Isaurian (A.D. 718-740). It differs in several essential particulars from the old style, and contains the germ of much that we find frequently repeated. The change is not so great as might have taken place in two centuries of building activity, but it is considerable. In this church we find, apparently for the first time in a complete form, the new mode of introducing the light to the dome through a perpendicular drum, which afterwards became so universal that it serves to fix the age of a building in the East with almost as much certainty as the presence of a pointed arch does that of a building in the West. As this invention is so important, it may be well to recapitulate the steps by which it was arrived at.

327. Half Section, half Elevation, of Dome of Sta. Irene at Constantinople.

The oldest mode of lighting a dome is practised in the Pantheon (Woodcut No. [191]), by simply leaving out the central portion. Artistically and mechanically nothing could be better, but before the invention of glass it was intolerably inconvenient whenever much rain or snow fell. A change therefore was necessary, and it is found in the tomb or temple of Marcellus, built during the reign of Constantine on the Via Prenestina at Rome. It consists simply of boring four circular holes through the dome a little above its springing. The next step is seen at Thessalonica in the church of St. George (Woodcut No. [305]). There eight semi-circular lunettes are pierced in the dome, at its springing, and answer the purpose very perfectly. The system culminated in Sta. Sophia, where forty windows introduce a flood of light without its ever falling on the eyes of the spectator. After this it seems to have been considered desirable not to break the hemisphere of the dome, but to place the windows in a perpendicular circular rim of masonry—called the drum—and to introduce the light always through that. Externally there can be no doubt but that this was an improvement; it gave height and dignity to the dome in small churches, where, without this elevation, the feature would have been lost. Internally, however, the advantage is problematical: the separation of the dome from its pendentives destroyed the continuity of the roof, and introduced the stilted effect so objectionable in Renaissance domes. In the Neo-Byzantine churches the dome became practically a skylight on the roof, the drum increasing in height and the dome diminishing in dignity as the style progressed. As all the churches are small, the feature is unobjectionable; but in larger edifices it would have been found difficult to construct it, and the artistic result would hardly have been pleasing, even had this difficulty been got over. Be this as it may, its value as a chronometric landmark is undoubted.

As a rule it may generally be asserted that, in all Christian domes erected during the old Byzantine period, the light is introduced by openings in the dome itself.[^[233]] After that time, the light is as generally admitted through windows in the drum, the dome itself being cut into only in the rarest possible instances.

328. St Clement, Ancyra. (From a Drawing by Ed. Falkener.)

329. Church of St. Clement, Ancyra. Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.

If these views are correct, the church of St. Clement at Ancyra is a transitional specimen subsequent to Sta. Sophia, because the dome is raised timidly (Woodcut No. [328]) on a low drum pierced with four small windows; but it is anterior to Sta. Irene, because the dome is still pierced with twelve larger windows, after the manner of Sta. Sophia and the older churches. All the details of its architecture, in so far as they can be made out, bear out this description. They are further removed from the classical type than the churches of Justinian, and the whole plan (Woodcut No. [329]) is more that which the Greek church afterwards took than any of the early churches show. Its greatest defect—though the one most generally inherent in the style—is in its dimensions. It is only 64 ft. long, over all externally, by 58 ft. wide. Yet this is a fair average size of a Greek church of that age.

Another church, very similar, is found at Myra, dedicated to St. Nicholas. It exceeds that of St. Clement in size, and has a double narthex considerably larger in proportion, but so ruined that it is difficult to make out its plan, or to ascertain whether it is a part of the original structure, or a subsequent addition. The cupola is raised on a drum, and altogether the church has the appearance of being much more modern than that at Ancyra.

A third church of the same class, and better preserved, is found at Trabala in Lycia. It is of the same type as St. Clement, and similar in its arrangements to Sta. Sophia, except in the omission of the semi-domes, which seem never to have been adopted in the provinces,[^[234]] and indeed may be said to be peculiar to the metropolitan church. Notwithstanding the beauty of that feature, it appears to have remained dormant till revived by the Turks in Constantinople, and there alone.

In this example there are two detached octagonal buildings, either tombs or sacristies; a form which, except in large detached buildings, does not seem to have been so common as the circular, till after the time of Justinian.

330. Church at Trabala. Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.

Returning to the capital, we find one other remarkable peculiarity of the Neo-Byzantine style in the attempt to allow the external surface of an ordinary tunnel-vault to retain its form without any ridge whatever. It can hardly be doubted that this is artistically a mistake. With domes it was early felt to be so, and consequently we always find a flower or pinnacle in iron, or some such ornament, marking the centre. In this the Saracenic architects were especially successful—all their domes possess a central ornament sufficient to relieve them, and generally of the most beautiful proportions. With the extrados of a circular vault, however, it is even worse than with a dome. A roof is felt to be a contrivance to keep off the rain. It may be more or less sloping, according to the materials of which it is constructed; but to make one part of each ridge sloping, and the central portion flat, is a discord that offends the eye, besides looking weak and unmeaning. A pointed arch would avoid the evil, but a reverse or ogee curve is perhaps the most pleasing. In the Neo-Byzantine age, however, between the 8th and the 12th centuries, the eye seems to have got accustomed to it. It is common in the East, especially at Constantinople and at Venice. In St. Mark’s and elsewhere it became so familiar a form that it was copied and continued by the Renaissance architects even to the end of the 16th century.

331. Church of Moné tés Choras. (From Lenoir.) No scale.

One of the best illustrations of these peculiarities is the church of Moné tés Choras at Constantinople, now converted into a mosque and called Kahriyeh Djamisi. The older part of it seems to belong to the 11th century, the side-aisles to the 12th, and though small, it illustrates the style perfectly. The porch consists of five arches covered with an intersecting vault, visible both externally and internally. The last two bays are covered with cupolas which still retain their mosaics internally, and those of singular beauty and brilliancy, though, owing to the constructive defects of the intermediate parts, the wet has leaked through, and the mosaics have mostly peeled off. Externally the front is ornamented with courses of stones alternating with two or three layers of tiles, and even in its ruined state is effective and picturesque. Its principal interest is that it shows what was the matrix[^[235]] of the contemporary church of St. Mark at Venice. Subsequent additions have much modified the external appearance of St. Mark, but there can be very little doubt that originally it was intended to be very like the façade shown in Woodcut No. [331].

Not far from Moné tés Choras there are two other churches of the same class and of about the same age. One, the Pantokrator, has been added to at various times so as to cover a large space of ground, but it consists consequently of small and ill-assorted parts. It retains, however, a good deal of its marble pavements and other features of interest. The other, known as the Fethîyeh Djamisi, is smaller and more complete, and possesses some mosaics of considerable beauty.

332. Plan of the Theotokos. Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.

333. Elevation of Church of the Theotokos. (From Lenoir, ‘Architecture Monastique.’) Enlarged scale.

The best example of its class, however, in Constantinople is that known as the Theotokos. Like those just mentioned it is very small, the church itself being only 37 ft. by 45, and, though its double narthex and lateral adjuncts add considerably to its dimensions, it is still only a very small church. Some parts of it are as old as the 9th or 10th century, but the façade represented in Woodcut No. [333] is certainly not older than the 12th century. Taking it altogether, it is perhaps the most complete and elegant church of its class now known to exist in or near the capital, and many of its details are of great beauty and perfection.

It seems scarcely possible to suppose that the meagre half-dozen of small churches just enumerated are all that were erected in the capital between the death of Justinian and the fall of the city. Yet there is no evidence that the Turks destroyed any. Why should they? They converted them into mosques, finding them especially convenient for that purpose, and they have maintained them with singularly little alteration to the present day.