have never been surpassed in the East.
A church already existed in the main Forum, which was consecrated to Divine Wisdom. Built under Constantine, it had been partially destroyed by flames in 404, during a public riot on behalf of St. John Chrysostom. Theodosius had it repaired but in 532, during a terrible sedition, which nearly caused Justinian to lose his throne, the Hagia Sophia fell prey to a new bout of arson. Victorious over the rebels, the emperor reconstructed it, attempting to surpass in splendour all the most famous ancient structures ever described, the temple of Solomon in particular.
Rarely had the folly of extravagance been pushed so far. The most elaborate of materials – gold, silver, ivory, and precious stones – were used with an incredible abundance, even to the point of offending good taste: it seems that Justinian had less an appreciation for beauty than for costliness, and that his vision was to dazzle onlookers with the spectacle of enchanting luxury. He wanted gold and silver everywhere. The labours on the Hagia Sophia thus absorbed immense sums of money. In order for there to be sufficient funds, new taxes had to be levied and drastic measures taken. The ambo alone, with the altar, cost a year’s revenue from Egypt; Justinian was also writing to governors and government officials to send already worked materials, which the desecration of old monuments. The praetor Constantine had ordered from Ephesus eight columns in antique green. They came from Cyzicus, Troas, the Cyclades, and Athens. A Roman widow, Marcia, had sent eight columns of porphyry, removed from a temple to the Sun. There was a wild array of marbles and stones of every colour, but within the natural polychromy, there was nothing displeasing, with the knowledge of tastefully combining the many shades. Even the land was very costly. Justinian was hardly content with the placement of the old Constantinian church and therefore had to purchase the surrounding houses, in the most affluent district of the city.
The names of the two principal architects who directed the labour are known – Anthemius of Tralles and Isidore of Miletus. Their contemporaries praised their knowledge, but it is Anthemius who was first acknowledged, by general consensus. These two artists came from those Asian provinces where the architecture in the fourth and fifth centuries had developed with more originality. Under their orders one hundred masters or chiefs of the building sites had been assigned, each of whom commanded one hundred workers. Once the terrain had been cleared and the foundation laid, the patriarch Eutychius recited prayers for the success of the enterprise, and the emperor himself placed the first stone. He immediately had an oratory constructed and some rooms from which he supervised the progress. Later, people would entertain themselves telling a mass of miraculous stories that supposedly occurred during the construction: an angel had described to the slumbering emperor the plan he was to adopt; another revealed to him hidden treasures, at a time when funds were lacking; yet another was supposed to have indicated to him that three apses were necessary for the completion of the cathedral. All these legends prove how much this mammoth enterprise had inspired the popular imagination.
The labour had begun shortly after the arson; the dedication took place the seventh of December 537. The emperor left his palace for the Augustaeum, mounted on a four-horse chariot; then, arriving at the church, he descended, ran from the great entrance gate up to the ambo, and there, with hands extended, he cried, “Glory to God who judged me worthy to complete such a work! Solomon, I have conquered you.” This audacious exclamation well proves that in his eyes this temple was the epitome of the new law that he had just promulgated. He saw to the organisation and the maintenance of the church with the same pomp: three hundred sixty-five estates were ascribed to the areas surrounding Constantinople and one thousand clerics were charged with their service. From the exterior, the Hagia Sophia gives an impression of mediocrity, and the cupola itself, bold as its construction may be, seems depressing. One must enter the church in order to fully comprehend the originality and splendour.
Before the temple stretches the atrium. A double narthex is found adjoining the church through nine doors. Apart from the eastern apse, the church is contained within a rectangular space 77 metres in length by 76.70 metres in width, including the thickness of the walls. The interior is divided into a central section, the nave, and two lateral sections. In the center of the structure, a cupola rises, with a 31 metre diameter, inscribed within a square. It rests on four large arches, with an opening equal to the diameter, which, in turn, rest on four wide pillars. Immense spherical pendentives jut out into the open air, filling the space between the large arches, and come out to meet the cupola. On the two arches perpendicular to the nave, the eastern and western arches, rest two semicircular domes; by contrast, to the north and at the median of the main cupola, the large arches are closed off by a solid wall, supported with colonnades. Around the semicircle, which is covered by the large, eastern half-dome, three apses are carved out: the principal apse, in the center, which extends to the east and terminates with a vault in the shape in a quarter sphere and two secondary apses to the right and left of the principal apse. The bottom of the two secondary apses is opened on the shoulders, and their archway is supported in this section by two columns. The perimeter of the western semicircle is sculpted in the same manner, but the central archway does not end in a quarter sphere. The arch extends to the facing wall, into which are cut the three doors joining the narthex.
Hagia Sophia, interior view facing west, 537.
Hagia Sophia, Istanbul.
Hagia Sophia, interior view, 537.
Hagia Sophia, Istanbul.
Basilica of San Vitale, 527–548.
Ravenna, Italy.
The shoulders, from the ground up to the cradle of the arches, are divided into two levels, the upper bearing the name of gynaeceum. The light penetrates throughout the entire structure through a large number of bays: forty windows open at the base of the cupola, and others are cut into the walls of the north and median arches, in the half-domes and in the apses.
The construction of the central cupola had been a difficult problem to resolve because of the immense proportions that had been desired for it. Massive pillars had been allocated as points of support, carved with great care to prevent them from giving way or splitting under the pressure they were to support. Nevertheless, for a while there was concern for the cupola itself: the architects who had had the audacity to build it were challenged by their own work. They therefore employed particular materials, notably white, spongy tiles, manufactured in Rhodes, and so light that five were needed to equal the weight of one regular tile.
Despite these precautions, it was not before they recognised how well founded were their fears. The following years were riddled with earthquakes that were sometimes extremely violent: there was one in 553 that lasted forty days, another in 557 that razed a portion of the city. The cupola of the Hagia Sophia felt the effect of these repeated tremors, fissures formed, and on the seventh of May 558, it collapsed. According to some authors, the architects charged with researching the cause of the accident declared that it had been erroneous to remove the wooden scaffolding too quickly in order to work on the mosaics. Justinian had the cupola rebuilt. Anthemius and Isidore had died, but the latter had left a nephew, who was charged with this project. He increased yet again the elevation of the cupola, but at the same time he gave more solidity to the great arches. This time, the curves and the scaffolding were left in place longer, and then the lower part of the church was flooded so that the falling wooden pieces would not weaken the new construction.
Everything in the furnishings and decoration of the church bespoke the vision of magnificence with which Justinian’s mind was saturated. Toward the center of the structure, the ambo was a large stand topped with a cross and a dome: the magnificence of gold and precious stones was combined with that of the most beautiful marble. The sanctuary was separated from the rest of the church by a railing of pure silver. On the columns, images of Christ, the Virgin, angels, apostles, and prophets stood out on medallions. The altar was golden and from this dazzling background gleamed gems and enamels. Stretched above, in the form of a ciborium, was a dome with a golden cross at its apex; four columns of gilded silver supported it. “Who would not be astonished,” said a poet of the time, “by the appearance of the splendour of the holy table? Who could comprehend her provenance, when she scintillates with