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.

[Illustration: 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.

[Illustration: 328. St Clement, Ancyra. (From a Drawing by Ed. Falkener.)]

[Illustration: 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.

[Illustration: 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.

[Illustration: 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.

[Illustration: 332. Plan of the Theotokos. Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.]

[Illustration: 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.

THESSALONICA.

This deficiency of examples in the capital is to some extent supplied by those which are found existing at Thessalonica. Three churches belonging to this age are illustrated in Texier and Pullan’s work.

[Illustration: 334. Apse of Church of the Apostles, Thessalonica. (From Texier and Pullan.)]

The first of these is the church of Kazandjita Djami, dedicated to the Mother of God, a small church measuring only 53 ft. by 37, exclusive of the apse. Its date is perfectly ascertained—viz., 1028.

Next to these comes the church of Elias, A.D. 1054, and very similar to it in style is that of the Apostles (Woodcut No. 334), which we may consequently date with safety in the 11th century, from this juxtaposition alone, though there are several other examples which enable us to treat it as a characteristic type of the age. It is a pleasing and picturesque specimen of Byzantine brickwork. Like all the churches of the time, it is small, 63 ft. by 59 externally. In plan it very much resembles the Theotokos at Constantinople, but in elevation is taller and thinner; though whether this arises from any local peculiarity, or from some difference of age, is not clear. I suspect the former. The earthquakes of the capital may have induced a less ambitious form, as far as height is concerned, than was adopted in the provinces.

GREECE.

[Illustration: 335. Catholicon Dochiariu.]

There can be little doubt but that, if a systematic search were made among the churches of Greece, many would be brought to light which would be most useful in completing our knowledge of the Neo-Byzantine style.[236] At Mount Athos there exists from twenty to thirty monasteries, each with its Catholicon or principal church and other chapels. Many of these are of ancient date, ranging between the 10th and 16th centuries, and although some of them may have been restored, in some cases rebuilt in later times, they have not yet been examined or illustrated by any competent architect. Brockhaus in his work[237] gives the plan of three churches, one of which, the Catholicon (dated 1043) of the Dochiariu Monastery (Woodcut No. 335), is further illustrated by a bird’s-eye view taken from a photograph. The domes and drums over the narthex and two eastern chapels would seem to be later additions, made either in consequence of the proximity of the buildings of the monastery which obscured the light obtainable from windows, or to show better the wall frescoes, which in the case of the narthex, where no windows ever existed, must have been quite dark at first. The oldest church (963 A.D.) apparently is that of the Protaton at Caryas, which consists of a short nave, a transept, and a long choir, and is wanting in that one feature which is supposed to be characteristic of a Byzantine church, viz., a dome; the whole building is covered like a basilica with a flat wooden roof, beneath which are clerestory windows. Photogravures or woodcuts are given of the churches of Chilandari (1197 A.D.), Xeropotamu (1028-34 A.D.), the Laura (963 A.D., but rebuilt under Turkish rule), and woodcuts from photographs in an interesting description of the Monasteries by Mr. A. Riley,[238] give a good general idea of the work to be found in Athos, from which it would seem that the chief interest centres in the sumptuous carvings of the icon and stalls,[239] and in the frescoes with which most of the interiors of the churches are painted.

[Illustration: 336. Plan of Panagia Lycodemo. Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.]

[Illustration: 337. Church of Panagia Lycodemo. (From A. Lenoir.) Enlarged scale.]

For Greece proper we are dependent almost wholly on Couchaud[240] and Blouet.[241] So far as the illustrations go they suggest that there are no churches of such dimensions as would ensure dignity, nor are any so beautiful in outline or detail as to make us regret much that we do not know more about them. Still they are sufficiently original to be worthy of study, and when properly known may help to join together some of the scattered links of the chain which once connected the architecture of the West and East, but which is at present so difficult to follow out.

In Athens there are several churches of considerable interest, and not without architectural pretension. They are all small, however. The largest is that known as Panagia Lycodemo, or the church of St. Nicodemus, and is only 62 ft. long by 45 ft. wide over all. It seems also to be the oldest, since its dome is partially pierced with windows inside, though outside there is a distinctly marked drum (Woodcut No. 337). Notwithstanding the smallness of its dimensions, considerable effect is obtained internally by the judicious arrangement of the parts and the harmony of proportion which reigns throughout. The exterior is also pleasing, though the loss of the cornice gives an unfinished look to the whole, and there is a want of sufficient connection between the dome and the walls of the building to make them part of one composition.

[Illustration: 338. Cathedral at Athens. (From Gailhabaud.)]

A more beautiful and more interesting example is the church known as the Catholicon or Cathedral at Athens (Woodcut No. 338). It is a cathedral, however, only in a Greek sense, certainly not as understood in the Latin Church, for its dimensions are only 40 ft. by 25 over all externally. It is almost impossible to judge of its age from its details, since they are partly borrowed from older classical buildings, or imitations of classical forms, so fashioned as to harmonize with parts which are old. But the tallness of its dome, the form of its windows, and the internal arrangements, all point to a very modern date for its erection—as probably the 13th century as the 11th or 12th.

The church of the Virgin at Mistra in the Peloponnesus was built in the 13th century on a hillside overlooking the plain of Sparta, and partly with materials taken from the remains of the ancient city; but though it belongs possibly to the same age as the Catholicon at Athens, it differs considerably from it in style, and bears much more resemblance to the churches of Apulia and Sicily than either of those described above.

[Illustration: 339. Plan of Church at Mistra. Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.]

[Illustration: 340. Church at Mistra. (From Couchaud, ‘Églises Byzantines en Grèce.’) Enlarged scale.]

Where arcades are used externally in these Greek churches, they are generally supported by pillars of somewhat classical look (often old classic columns and capitals were used up), crowned by capitals of the square foliaged form, employed to support arches in the early styles all over Europe; and the windows, when divided, take merely the form of diminutive arcades. The Byzantines never attained to tracery; all their early windows are single round-headed openings. These were afterwards grouped together in threes and fives; and, as in the Gothic style, when they could be put under one discharging arch, the piers were attenuated till they became almost mullions, but always supporting constructive arches, without any tendency to run into interlacing forms like the Gothic. The universal employment of mural painting in Byzantine churches, and the consequent exclusion of painted glass, rendered the use of the large windows which the Gothic architects employed quite inadmissible; and in such a climate very much smaller openings sufficed to admit all the light that was required. Tracery would thus, in fact, have been an absurdity, and the windows were often filled in with transparent marble slabs pierced with holes, which were either glazed or occasionally even left open. The Byzantine architects sought to ornament their windows externally by the employment of tiles or colours disposed in various patterns, and often produced a very pleasing effect, as may be seen from the woodcut (No. 337) illustrating the apse of the Panagia Lycodemo at Athens, in the Hebdomon Palace (Woodcut No. 342), and other specimens already quoted.

[Illustration: 341. Apse from Mistra. (From Couchaud.)]

Occasionally we find in these churches projecting porches or balconies, and machicolations, which give great relief to the general flatness of the walls. These features are all marked with that elegance peculiar to the East, and more especially to a people claiming descent from the ancient Greeks, and possibly having some of their blood in their veins. Sometimes, too, even a subordinate apse is supported on a bracket-like balcony, so as to form a very pleasing object, as in the accompanying specimen from Mistra.

On the whole the Neo-Byzantine style may be said to be characterised by considerable elegance, with occasional combinations of a superior order; but after the time of Justinian the country was too deficient in unity or science to attempt anything great or good, and too poor to aspire to grandeur, so that it has no claim to rank among the great styles of the earth.[242] The old Byzantine style was elevated to a first-class position through the buildings of Justinian; but from his time the history of the art is a history of decline, like that of the Eastern Empire itself and of Greece, down to the final extinction both of the Empire and the style, under the successive conquests by the Venetians and the Turks. The only special claim which the Neo-Byzantine style makes upon our sympathies or attention is that of being the direct descendant of Greek and Roman art. As such, it forms a connecting link between the past and present which must not be overlooked, while in itself it has sufficient merit to reward the student who shall apply himself to its elucidation.

DOMESTIC ARCHITECTURE.

[Illustration: 342. Palace of the Hebdomon, Constantinople.]

It is more than probable that very considerable remains of the civil or domestic architecture of the Neo-Byzantine period may still be recovered. Most of their palaces or public buildings have continued to be occupied by their successors, but the habits of Turkish life are singularly opposed to the prying of the archæologist. Almost the only building which has been brought to light and illustrated is the palace of the Hebdomon at Blachernæ in Constantinople, built by Constantine Porphyrogenitus (913-949). All that remains of it, however, is a block of buildings 80 ft. by 40 in plan, forming one end of a courtyard; those at the other end, which were more extensive, being too much ruined to be restored. The parts that remain probably belong to the 9th century, and consist of two halls, one over the other, the lower supported by pillars carrying vaults, the upper free. The façade towards the court (Woodcut 342) is of considerable elegance, being adorned by a mosaic of bricks of various colours disposed in graceful patterns, and forming an architectural decoration which, if not of the highest class, is very appropriate for domestic architecture.

One great cause of the deficiency of examples may be the combustibility of the capital. They may have been destroyed in the various fires, and outside Constantinople the number of large cities and their wealth and importance was gradually decreasing till the capital itself sunk into the power of the Turks in the year 1453.

##