The Architects of Ottoman Constantinople: The Balyan Family and the History of Ottoman Architecture 9780755693351, 9781780768526
The Balyan family were a dynasty of architects, builders and property owners who acted as the official architects to the
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For my parents Daphne and Tony
New paperback edition published in 2015 by I.B.Tauris & Co Ltd London • New York www.ibtauris.com Copyright q 2015 Alyson Wharton The right of Alyson Wharton to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in a review, this book, or any part thereof, may not be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher. Every attempt has been made to gain permission for the use of the images in this book. Any omissions will be rectified in future editions. References to websites were correct at the time of writing. Library of Ottoman Studies 45 ISBN: 978 1 78076 852 6 eISBN: 978 0 85773 813 4 A full CIP record for this book is available from the British Library A full CIP record is available from the Library of Congress Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: available Typeset in Garamond Three by OKS Prepress Services, Chennai, India Printed and bound by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon, CR0 4YY
LIST OF FIGURES AND COLOUR PLATES All images are photographs by Alyson Wharton.
List of Figures
Figure 1 Surp Asdvadzadzin Church (1838), Bes iktas , Istanbul. Exterior facade of church viewed from street.
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Figure 2 Surp Asdvadzadzin Church (1838), Bes iktas , Istanbul. Interior, view of stucco ornament on side wall.
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Figure 3 Mausoleum of Mahmud II (1839–41), C¸emberlitas , Istanbul. Interior, view of stucco ornament on side wall.
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Figure 4 Akaretler Apartment Buildings (1875), Bes iktas , Istanbul. Exterior.
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Figure 5 Nusretiye Mosque (1826), Tophane, Istanbul. Exterior, entrance facade and sultan’s lodges viewed from street.
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Figure 6 Nusretiye Mosque (1826), Tophane, Istanbul. Interior, ornate grille of the sultan’s lodge viewed from prayer hall.
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Figure 7 Mausoleum of Mahmud II (1839–41), C¸emberlitas , Istanbul. Exterior of mausoleum and cemetery facing onto the Divanyolu.
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Figure 8 Mausoleum of Mahmud II (1839–41), C¸emberlitas , Istanbul. Entrance gate to mausoleum and cemetery complex with symbolic motifs including sunbursts rising from roses.
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Figure 9 Surp Asdvadzadzin Church (1838), Bes iktas , Istanbul. Baptismal altar in side room, decorated with sunbursts rising from stones.
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Figure 10 Dolmabahc e Palace (1856), Bes iktas , Istanbul. Entrance facade topped by pediment and tug˘ra (sultan’s monogram).
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Figure 11 Mecidiye Mosque (1848), C¸ırag˘an, Istanbul. Italianate-style entrance to courtyard with tug˘ra and inscription.
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LIST OF FIGURES
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COLOUR PLATES
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Figure 12 Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque (1872), Aksaray, Istanbul. Neo-Islamic entrance to mosque complex from Divanyolu, adorned with tug˘ra and inscription.
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Figure 13 Kag˘ıthane/ C¸ag˘layan Mosque (1862), Istanbul. Neo-Ottoman mihrab (prayer niche) in the style of the Green Mosque of Bursa.
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Figure 14 Dolmabahc e Palace (1856), Bes iktas , Istanbul. Seaside facade with relief carving.
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Figure 15 Dolmabahc e Palace (1856), Bes iktas , Istanbul. Interior, paintwork showing militaristic clusters alongside the ever-present bouquet of flowers.
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Figure 16 C¸ırag˘an Palace (1871), C¸ırag˘an, Istanbul. Exterior, entrance facade with Gothic and Neo-Islamic carved ornament.
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Figure 17 Beylerbeyi Palace (1864), Beylerbeyi, Istanbul. Exterior, entrance facade in Renaissance style.
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Figure 18 Beylerbeyi Palace (1864), Beylerbeyi, Istanbul. Interior ceiling showing Neo-Islamic painted decoration interspersed with floral bouquets and with a naval painting by Ayvazovski.
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Figure 19 Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque (1872), Aksaray, Istanbul. Fac ade of mosque on the Divanyolu road.
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Figure 20 Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque (1872), Aksaray, Istanbul. Interior of mosque with Neo-Islamic and Neo-Ottoman paintwork and Gothic window grilles.
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List of Colour Plates
Plate 1 Surp Asdvadzadzin Church (1838), Bes iktas , Istanbul. View of altar with stucco and carved marble, all-seeing-eye, sunbursts, and paintings by Umed Behzad behind. Plate 2 Surp Asdvadzadzin Church (1838), Bes iktas , Istanbul. View of stucco dome with holy Armenian letters. Plate 3 Mausoleum of Mahmud II (1839– 41), C¸emberlitas , Istanbul. Interior, stucco dome. Plate 4 Dolmabahc e Palace (1856), Bes iktas , Istanbul. Seaside facade on the Bosphorus. Plate 5 Dolmabahc e Palace (1856), Bes iktas , Istanbul. Gate of the Treasury in the style of a triumphal arch, adorned with inscription and tug˘ra.
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Plate 6 Dolmabahc e Palace (1856), Bes iktas , Istanbul. Interior, trompe l’oeil ceiling in hamam room with images of triumphal arches with tug˘ras. Plate 7 Dolmabahc e Palace (1856), Bes iktas , Istanbul. Interior, trompe l’oeil dome of Audience Hall depicting triumphal arches with tug˘ras and floral bouquets on pendentives. Plate 8 Dolmabahc e Palace (1856), Bes iktas , Istanbul. Interior, ceiling painted by Charles Se´chan. Plate 9 Ihlamur Pavilion (1853), Bes iktas , Istanbul. Entrance facade with relief-carved decoration, curving stairways and fountain. Plate 10 Go¨ksu/Ku¨cu¨ksu Pavilion (1856), Ku¨cu¨ksu, Istanbul. Entrance facade with relief-carved decoration, curving stairways and fountain. Plate 11 Go¨ksu/Ku¨cu¨ksu Pavilion (1856), Ku¨cu¨ksu, Istanbul. Interior, ceiling painted by Charles Se´chan. Plate 12 Mecidiye Mosque (1848), C¸ırag˘an, Istanbul. Painted stucco dome with vegetal and floral motifs including prominent bouquets of flowers, and with central calligraphic medallion Plate 13 Mecidiye Mosque (1848), C¸ırag˘an, Istanbul. Interior, view of marble mihrab carved with the same motifs seen in the dome and on the minber and kursi (garlands, vegetal and floral motifs) and with a shell-shaped niche. Plate 14 Hırka-ı S erif Mosque (1848), Fatih, Istanbul. Interior, painted stucco dome with similar vegetal and floral motifs to those seen in the Mecidiye Mosque and also including prominent bouquets of flowers, and with central calligraphic medallion. Plate 15 Hırka-ı S erif Mosque (1848), Fatih, Istanbul. Interior, carved marble of kursi, with scalloping, egg-and-dart and floral motifs, which match those adorning the mihrab and minber. Plate 16 Hırka-ı S erif Mosque (1848), Fatih, Istanbul. Interior, carved minber with garlands, acanthus and flower head motifs matching the rest of the religious furniture. Plate 17 Dolmabahc e Mosque (1854), Bes iktas , Istanbul. Exterior, facade with wheel windows, lining the shores of the Bosphorus. Plate 18 Dolmabahc e Mosque (1854), Bes iktas , Istanbul. Interior, trompe l’oeil dome depicting coffering, panelling, arches, shells, cartouches, etc. and eight-pointed stars in the pendentives. Plate 19 Dolmabahc e Mosque (1854), Bes iktas , Istanbul. Interior, view of scagliola wall decoration, and empty brooch motif as well as porphyry minber.
LIST OF FIGURES
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Plate 20 Dolmabahc e Mosque (1854), Bes iktas , Istanbul. Gilded porphyry mihrab carved with acanthus, shells, S-scrolls etc. Plate 21 Dolmabahc e Mosque (1854), Bes iktas , Istanbul. Gilded porphyry kursi, carved with empty brooches, egg-and-dart, acanthus, ovals, shells, scalloping, etc. Plate 22 Ortako¨y Mosque (1854– 5), Ortako¨y, Istanbul. Exterior, view of platform projecting out into Bosphorus and sultan’s lodge behind. Plate 23 Ortako¨y Mosque (1854– 5), Ortako¨y, Istanbul. Interior, trompe l’oeil dome, depicting columns, arches and painted versions of the porphyry mihrab in the prayer hall below. Plate 24 Ortako¨y Mosque (1854–5), Ortako¨y, Istanbul. Interior, view of prayer hall with chandelier, porphyry minber and mihrab, scagliola wall decoration and roundarched windows with decorative grilles. Plate 25 Kag˘ıthane/ C¸ag˘layan Mosque (1862), Istanbul. Exterior, view of site of the mosque on the banks of the river. Plate 26 Kag˘ıthane/ C¸ag˘layan Mosque (1862), Istanbul. Interior, painted dome depicting empty brooch motifs, shells and floral and vegetal ornament including floral bouquets, with central calligraphic medallion. Plate 27 Beylerbeyi Palace (1864), Beylerbeyi, Istanbul. Scagliola wall decoration depicting Owen Jones Moorish-style ornament, but with shells, acorns and floral bouquets, and with Neo-Islamic furniture. Plate 28 Beylerbeyi Palace (1864), Beylerbeyi, Istanbul. Woodwork in Neo-Islamic designs by Vortik Kemhaciyan. Plate 29 Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque (1872), Aksaray, Istanbul. Interior, trompe l’oeil dome, depicting multi-lobed arches and other Neo-Islamic motifs but also bouquets of flowers and the central calligraphic medallion. Plate 30 Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque (1872), Aksaray, Istanbul. Interior, view of paintwork in Neo-Ottoman style showing cartouches and blind arches. Ottoman su¨lu¨s inscription and grey marble mihrab but with a Mughal style onion dome and Gothic window grilles.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
For their help and inspiration, I thank, first and foremost, my esteemed hocas at SOAS, Professor Doris Behrens-Abouseif and Dr Yorgos Dedes. I am very privileged to have had the opportunity to learn from them, both personally and professionally. Also from SOAS, I thank Anna Contadini, Moya Carey and Geoffrey King, and from the University of York, Jane Hawkes, Jeanne Nuechterlein – and especially Richard Marks, for his course on Byzantine art and his trip to Istanbul. I also thank the late Godfrey Goodwin for sharing his knowledge with me (and Alison Ohta for putting me in touch). Michael Rogers provided an (at the time unpublished) article and generous advice. Dickran Kouymjian, Waldemar Deluga, Cengiz Go¨ncu¨, Edhem Eldem, Mustafa Erdem Kabadayı, Rossitsa Gradeva and many others have provided both practical help and encouragement. Krikor Moskofian has given Armenian language tuition and assistance with translations, and Kahraman S akul checked a few of my Ottoman transcriptions. For their language tuition I also thank Dilmer in Istanbul, To¨mer in Ankara, O¨znur Ayman, Figen and Bengisu Rona (all formerly of SOAS), SOAS Language Centre, Koc Harvard Ottoman Summer School on Cunda (especially Selim, Yorgos, Nurcan, Gregg, Mu¨ge, Wheeler Bey and Go¨nu¨l Hanım), Hacettepe University – especially Serpil Bag˘cı and Ebru Bilget and her family and colleagues for hosting me. I am very appreciative of all the help over the years from libraries and archives, including SOAS Library, the National Archives (PRO), the British Library, the Bodleian Library, the Bibliothe`que Nubar in Paris (and especially Mıgırdic Bey), the Ottoman Prime Ministry Archives and the Topkapı Palace Archives, the Ottoman Bank Archives (and, in particular, Loranz Tarantar Baruh), the DAI and IFEA in Istanbul, and Duygu Pac alı and the RCAC in Istanbul, the Archives de Paris, the Archives Nationales, the Bibliothe`que Nationale and the archives and library of the E´cole Centrale de Paris, most notably the very kind Jean-Marie Barbiche and Jean-Yves Jouan. I thank, especially, the priest of Surp Asdvadzadzin Church in Kumkapı, who was very generous in helping me to obtain photographs of the churches in Istanbul. With regards to funding, I was lucky enough to be offered a job by my supervisor at SOAS, enabled by the Khalili Family Trust, which supported the first few years of my
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
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doctoral research. I was also fortunate to have been employed by Richard de Unger of the Keir Collection in the latter stages, and that employment funded my research in Paris. My fieldwork in Istanbul was supported by a grant from the Central Research Fund of the University of London. I was one of the 2008 – 9 fellows of the Koc University Research Centre for Anatolian Civilisations in Istanbul, under the leadership of Scott Redford and Alessandra Ricci, and benefited very much from the friendship and assistance of the staff and fellows of that year. Friends played an indispensable role in the development of the text – in particular, Richard Antaramian, who read an early chapter of my thesis and taught me a lot about ¨ nver Ru¨stem and Max Hartmuth Armenian Studies in the process, Yorgos Dedes, U who read the whole thesis text and provided valuable feedback. I thank Professor Benjamin Fortna of SOAS and Tim Stanley of the V&A for their efforts as my examiners. For funding the coloured illustrations of this book, I thank the Gulbenkian Foundation Armenian Communities Department (Lisbon) and particularly Razmik Panossian. For additional funding for the images I thank Richard De Unger. For editing help, I thank Janet MacMillan and Claire Greenwell, Sally Phillips for the index, and Tomasz Hoskins, Allison Walker and the team at I.B.Tauris. All mistakes are my own.
NOTE ON TRANSLITERATION
I use modern Turkish transliteration following the ‘Yellow Redhouse’ system. C¼J C¸ ¼ ch as in church ˘ ¼ lengthens the preceding vowel G I ¼ i as in cousin ¨ ¼ German o¨ O S ¼ sh as in shape ¨ ¼ German u¨ U For Arabic words, such as waqf, I use the Turkish version (vakıf) in the Ottoman– Turkish context, and for Arabic names, such as Muhammad, I use the Turkish version Mehmed if they were Ottoman–Turks. I opted not to use more complex transliteration systems such as that used by the Harvard ‘Sources in Oriental Languages and Literatures’ because I also use Armenian words transliterated into Turkish letters and thought it better to have a system with fewer quirks for those not familiar with the subject. For the Armenian names I mostly use the Turkicized versions – ‘Karapet’ instead of ‘Garabed’, for instance. I also use some modern Turkish place names instead of Armenian ones. This is in contrast to the general usage either of the spellings of Western Armenian or of the Hu¨bschmann –Meillet system that are used within Armenian Studies. For Armenians who I have not viewed within the Ottoman context, I use their names as found in the secondary sources. I do the same for the names of organizations that were formed outside of the Ottoman Empire. I have avoided using the Hu¨bschmann–Meillet system, and also the more precise Ottoman– Turkish transcription systems, because I would like to give as regularized and simple a system as possible. This preference for modern Turkish spellings does not mean that I deny the identity of the Balyan family, or Balian/Ballian/Balean, or Palian/Palean family, as Armenian. This Armenian layer of the Balyan story is already clear from the works within Armenian Studies. Instead, I am choosing to foreground their Ottoman– Turkish identity in this work.
ABBREVIATIONS
BBK TPA NA AN TEPA IJMES IA EI
Bas bakanlık Osmanlı Ars ivi/ Ottoman Prime Ministry Archives, Istanbul Topkapı Palace Archives National Archives, Kew, England (formerly known as PRO/Public Record Office) Archives Nationales, Paris Tu¨rkiye Ermeni Patrig˘i Ars ivi (documents and abbreviation from Pars Tug˘lacı 1990) International Journal of Middle Eastern Studies I˙stanbul Ansiklopedisi Encyclopaedia of Islam
ARCHIVAL DOCUMENT COLLECTION CODES FROM THE BASBAKANLIK ARSIVI (BBK)/OTTOMAN PRIME MINISTRY ARCHIVES
I˙radeler (Decrees) I˙.DH I˙rade Dahiliye (Decree of the Interior Ministry) I˙.MVL I˙rade Meclis-i Vala (Decree of the High Council) I˙.MSM Mesail-i Mu¨himme I˙radeleri (Decrees Concerning Important Matters) HAT Hatt-ı Hu¨mayun (Imperial Decree) Sadaret Tasnifi (Collection referring to the office of the Grand Vizier) A)AMD Amedi Kalemi Defterleri (Notebooks of the Receiver-General of the Provincial Correspondence Addressed to the Grand Vizier) A)MKT.NZD Mektubi Kalemi Nezaret ve Devair Evrakı (Papers of the Ministry of the Chief Secretary of the Ministries/Provinces) A)MKT.MHM Mektubi Kalemi Mu¨himme Evrakı (Important Papers of the former) A)MKT.UM Mektubi Kalemi Umum Vilayet Evrakı (Papers concerned with the provinces of the former) Bab-ı Asafi Tasnifi (Collection referring to the Palace of the Grand Vizier) A)DVN Divan Kalemi Evrakı (Papers of the Office of the Imperial Chancery presided over by the Beylikci Efendi/Head of the Government Chancery Office) A)DVN.MHM Divan Mu¨himme Kalemi Evrakı (Important Papers of the Council of State) C Cevdet Tasnifi (a collection formed by Muallim Cevdet in the 1930s on various subjects), for instance C.SM Cevdet Saray (on palaces), and C.IKTS. Cevdet I˙ktisad I˙ndeksi (on economics) Dahiliye Nezareti Tasnifi (Collection of the Interior Ministry) DH.MKT Dahiliye Nezareti Mektubi Kalemi (pertaining to the Interior Ministry) MV Meclis-i Vu¨kela Mazbataları (Official Reports of the Cabinet) MAD Maliyeden Mu¨devver Defterleri (Notebooks of the Finance Ministry) EVd. Evkaf Defterleri (Notebooks of the Ministry of Pious Foundations)
ARCHIVAL DOCUMENT COLLECTION CODES
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HHd. Hazine-i Hassa Defterleri (Notebooks of the Ministry of the Imperial Treasury) HR.TO Hariciye Nezareti Defterleri Tercu¨me Odası Evrakı (Papers of the Translation Office of the Foreign Ministry) Y Yıldız Collection (pertaining to the reign of Abdu¨lhamid II, based at Yıldız Palace), including Y.PRK.KOM. Yıldız Perakende Evrakı Komisyonlar Maruzatı (dispersed papers on matters submitted to commissions), Y.PRK.AZJ. Yıldız Perakende Evrakı Arzuhal ve Jur (papers concerning petitions and informers), YA.RES. Yıldız Sadaret Resmi Maruzat Evrakı (papers concerning matters submitted to the Grand Vizier’s Office). ZB Zabtiye Nezareti Evrakı (Papers of the Ministry of Public Security). Following the system of the BBK, I use the letter D to refer to Dosya (file) and G for Go¨mlek (cover).
CHAPTER 1 INTRODUCTION
The Balyan Family, Canon and Archive1 The Balyan family were Armenian architects at the forefront of the building trade in nineteenth-century Ottoman Constantinople. Krikor Amira (1764– 1831), his son, Karapet Amira (1800– 66), and his sons, Nigog˘os Bey (1826– 58), Serkis Bey (1831– 99) and Agop Bey (1837– 75), were engaged in the construction of Ottoman architecture for three generations. During the nineteenth century, imperial works encompassed a wide range of buildings, including not only the traditional types associated with Ottoman architecture of the past, such as mosques, palaces and pavilions, but also new structures that proliferated over the century, such as factories, government buildings (including ministries created mid-century) and schools for the Empire’s new civil elites. The earlier generations of the family to serve as architects – Krikor and Karapet – were powerful leaders of the Armenian community (amira). Karapet’s sons – Nigog˘os, Serkis and Agop – were educated in Paris in the 1840s– 60s. During this time of transformation, within both the building trade and sociocultural life, the Balyan family retained a striking degree of control over the planning and the carrying out of a large number of imperial building works. Despite their temporal fame, the longevity of their careers and their potential importance in the history of Ottoman architecture, the lives and works of the Balyan family have not been well studied. The limited works about the Balyan family are often clouded by bias and fail to connect the family with other developments in Ottoman, Armenian and architectural historiography. The Turkish perception of the Balyan family has changed little since the nineteenth century. This is the canon or ‘[T]he actively circulated memory . . . [that] keeps the past present.’2 The degenerate influence of non-Muslim kalfas (builders and architects of non-Muslim identity) over the stately edifice of Ottoman architecture was remarked upon frequently in Ottoman chronicles and official documents, although the Balyan family were seldom referred to by name. The view was that their architectural works were of an inappropriate style that copied alafranga (Frankish or European style) fashions and were badly constructed. They were also accused of embezzlement and other
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personal and professional vices. The historiography since the Ottoman period, through the Republican period and into the twenty-first century, has repeated these assertions about the Armenian kalfas and their corruptive influence, thereby keeping this canon alive and well, guaranteeing that authors either repeat it or react against its tenets. Yet, there is always a counterpoint. Here, it is the Armenian narrative of a talented family of builders who moved from Anatolia to the Ottoman capital Constantinople and became the sultan’s favoured subjects. Their ability at construction enabled them to excel, and they served consecutive sultans during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. The Balyan family were among the earliest Ottomans to attend Parisian educational institutions and to take part in important Ottoman industrialization projects, such as the construction of mines and railways, which enabled them to play a crucial role in the modernization of the Ottoman Empire. At the same time, they were benevolent towards their own community and encouraged the expansion of Armenian religious life and cultural expression. Therefore, they became Armenian genius figures. In Ancient Greece and Rome the genius figure was a god of human nature or messenger between god and man. This pagan god migrated into the literature of the Middle Ages, where it took on aspects of the modern meaning of genius: human creativity, inventive powers and mental ability. The genius had positive moral qualities such as he ‘abhors vice and artifice, but praises... virtuous behaviour’. He also had an association with reproduction and virility.3 Giorgio Vasari,4 in one of the first works of art history, describes the lives of the eminent artists and architects of the Renaissance such as Michelangelo and Leonardo. They were talented polymaths, responsible for not only the design and construction of their works of art and architecture but were humanists engaged in a manner of other intellectual pursuits. Debating the nature of genius became prominent again in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries: Joshua Reynolds claimed that genius could be acquired through hard work, whereas the Romantic vision of genius stated that it was innate and waiting to be discovered. Views of genius became bound up with racial science. As a result, literature concerning art and architectural works, such as the Elgin Marbles, were used to prove the biological superiority of the Europeans, their ability to possess ideas ahead of their time and to enact progress.5 This was the intellectual background to colonialism as Edward Said points out.6 The emerging nation states of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries such as the Republic of Turkey identified their own genius figures to reflect their national characteristics and ethnic superiority to other nations. The sixteenth-century Ottoman architect Mimar Sinan was promoted as a genius figure not only because of his architectural accomplishments but also due to the survival of biographical texts shedding light on his character (in a related manner to those of Vasari).7 As a result Sinan became ‘a sacrosanct yardstick to celebrate, criticise and comment on agency in modern Turkish architecture.’8 Due to the pressures of political and social circumstances that Armenians faced in the latter half of the nineteenth and early twentieth century, an alternative genius
INTRODUCTION
3
figure was created out of the architectural legacy and biographical details of the Balyan family.9 This image has continued to be expressed in recent works. Because of the continued dominance of different Armenian and Turkish narratives on the role of the Balyan family, there is no satisfactory account that investigates the assertions of both, or that gathers additional evidence to answer uncertainties and fill gaps. Also, the Balyan family has not been viewed within its proper contexts – not only in relation to the history of Armenians, or of architecture and its practice in the Ottoman Empire, but also on a global scale. Some might argue that this separation into ‘Turkish’ and ‘Armenian’ narratives does not accurately reflect demonstrations of Armenian identity in Turkey that overwhelmingly focus on the belonging of Armenians not on their difference.10 Despite this tendency and despite recent advancements in the reconciliation of Turks and Armenians, both in popular and academic spheres,11 the historiography of the Balyan family has long continued to be defined along bifurcated lines.12 It might also be argued that a focus on the Armenian identity of the Balyan family is irrelevant when talking about the Ottoman Empire, a society in which individuals visualized themselves as Ottoman subjects and did not understand their existence in terms of anachronistic modern separations.13 However, as this book will show, although the Balyan family identified themselves on many levels as Ottomans, they also demonstrated their social, linguistic, cultural and religious difference as Armenians. Hence this distinction should be acknowledged, as well as the position of the nineteenth-century Ottoman Empire as a colonial power, and thus potentially as the ‘master’s culture’ for these non-Muslim subjects.14 This book aims to find a meeting place for extant cultural memories and discourses.15 A large body of Ottoman and French archival documents, periodical materials, Armenian histories and newspaper sources adds to these memories and discourses and will be considered. Buildings will be formally analysed, as well as comparative works both from Europe and Armenia. The use of literary sources is also included to give more flesh to the depiction of social types and transformations. The book is an attempt at what Aleida Assmann calls archaeology: ‘Archaeology is an institution of cultural memory that retrieves lost objects and defunct information from a distant past, forging an important return path from cultural forgetting to cultural memory.’16 This act of remembering involves paying particular attention to information that has been archived (that is, material that is kept in archives and has not been used, or has been misused, by previous researchers) as well as, on the theoretical level, referring to ‘the passively stored memory that preserves the past as archive’.17 The position of the Balyan family as imperial architects is the centre of the book’s enquiry, an enquiry that builds specifically upon works on the subject by authors of Armenian ethnicity, Pars Tug˘lacı and Yeprem Bog˘osyan, as well as on those of Turkish authors Selman Can and Oya S¸enyurt. The Armenian scholars assert that the Balyan family, although called kalfa, were the imperial architects of the Ottoman sultans. However, because they did not back up this claim with convincing evidence, it was questioned by Selman Can and Oya S¸enyurt, who focus more generally on the
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building trade, and who assert that the Balyan family were one of many contractors active at this time. This book argues that there is substantial evidence that the Balyan family did indeed hold a special status, which was a continuation of the post of imperial architect (a position within Ottoman officialdom and with a specific training and entry system). The book also develops the narrative about how the building trade in the Ottoman Empire transformed over the course of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries as the result of social change and bureaucratic reform, and how the Balyan family adapted to this new environment. They developed their own system of operations, which had some overlaps with the old procedures of the Imperial Architects Office and with the new bureaucratic bodies, but which in other ways resembled a private company. Therefore, their position, their methods of working, aspects of their identity and their architecture, were a mix of old and new. Each chapter deals with one issue related to the status and operations of the family. First, this introduction addresses historical, artistic and social contexts, such as the influence of westernization on reforms and on Ottoman architecture, the imagemaking of the Tanzimat (reform-era) sultans, and the fate of the Armenians at the end of the nineteenth century. It also begins to discuss the identity of the Armenians of the Ottoman Empire. This is something that is continued in the account of the historiography of the Balyan family that concludes Chapter 1. Following this introduction to the contexts and secondary literature concerning the Balyan family, the subsequent chapters move on to the findings from new documentation. Chapter 2 is a thorough assessment of the status of the Balyan family using European, Armenian and Ottoman primary sources. The overarching contention is that members of the family held very important positions that were in some ways equivalent to the earlier imperial architects. The following chapters develop how they managed to achieve (and then to defend) this status as imperial architects. Chapter 3 argues that the Balyan family’s position within the Armenian community played an important role in their assumption of the position of imperial architects, and the maintenance of that position. Chapter 4 addresses the Parisian education of the younger members of the family (Nigog˘os, Serkis and Agop), and asserts that they can be viewed as a kind of avant-garde18 who were socially engaged and aimed to bring the latest political and artistic ideas back to the Ottoman Empire. Chapter 5, as a result, makes a new assessment of the style of the nineteenth century, arguing that the members of the family developed a coherent official style for each of their sultanpatrons, applying their novel romantic leanings to the traditions of Ottoman architecture. Chapter 7 investigates the operations of the Balyan family using the Ottoman documentation on mosque-building. It explains their connection both to the historical systems for building and to the reformed bodies for architecture, and how, at the same time, they represented new capitalistic developments. The final chapter reassesses the downfall of Serkis Balyan, the last member of the family to undertake a large number of works.
INTRODUCTION
5
Framing the Balyan Family: The Nineteenth-Century Ottoman Empire, its Architecture and the Situation of its Armenian Subjects The Nineteenth-Century Ottoman Empire The nineteenth-century Ottoman Empire was described as ‘the Sick Man of Europe’.19 Until recently, this period was seen as a time of resistance to capitalism, oceanic expansion, the printing press, the Renaissance and the Reformation.20 A revisionist view of the century as a time of top-down reforming zeal has followed, led by Roderic Davison and Bernard Lewis, who were among the first historians to have access to the Ottoman archives.21 Ottoman transformation, within the narrative established by Lewis and Davison, began with Sultan Selim III (r.1789–1807), who reformed the military. Mahmud II (r.1808– 39) centralized the state, and concentrated on reducing the power of the tribes, guilds and provincial notables. He abolished the janissaries in 1826, which was a crucial threshold to bolder reform.22 Increased control of bureaucrats, regarded as the true engineers of the Tanzimat reforms, characterized the reign of Abdu¨lmecid (r.1839– 61). Having been employed in the Translation Office, many of these ‘Men of the Tanzimat’ had first-hand knowledge of European languages and culture.23 The shift in power at this time was reflected by the move of the Supreme Council from the Palace to the Sublime Porte (Bab-ı Ali).24 Reorganization of the Tanzimat included the creation of an effective state apparatus consisting of ministries and official positions modelled on European examples.25 The bureaucracy grew to contain at least half a million civil servants.26 As Christine Philliou notes for the case of the Foreign Ministry, this created the semblance of ‘a growing formality in the chain of command’; for instance, reis efendi (chief of scribes) became minister of foreign affairs (hariciye nazırı).27 The reform decrees of the Gu¨lhane Hatt-ı S¸erif of 1839 and the Hatt-ı Hu¨mayun of 1856 delineate the period of Tanzimat.28 The former decree was concerned with the finances of the Empire and resulted in taking on foreign loans as well as an attempt at the reorganization of tax collection.29 The latter decree placed an emphasis on the equality of all Ottoman subjects, the introduction of universal conscription and employment of non-Muslims within the state apparatus. Reforms in the provinces encompassed the implementation of local councils, as well as tax reform. The limited success of the majority of the reforms disappointed non-Muslim communities who had embraced the ideas of the Tanzimat.30 The early part of the reign of Sultan Abdu¨laziz (r.1861– 76) saw further reforms and the dominance of the European-leaning Grand Viziers Ali Pas¸a and Fuad Pas¸a.31 Reforms included the law of the vilayets (provinces), vakıf (pious foundations), and amendments to the school systems carried out along French lines.32 Further reorganizations included the establishment of a Council of State composed of Muslims and non-Muslims and a Council of Judicial Ordinances.33
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Under Sultan Abdu¨lhamid II (r.1876– 1909) there was a new emphasis on ‘legitimacy structures’ intended to reassert the sultan’s power and keep the loyalty of the Empire’s citizens. This included a stress on the Islamic religion and the unity of Islamic nations under the Caliphate through a policy of Pan-Islamism. There was also the promotion of the Turkish roots of the Empire, carried out through public monuments, ceremonies and other ‘grass roots activities’. These policies were in part a backlash against the sultans of the reform era taking their cue from Europe.34 Recent studies have identified how Tanzimat-period reform was not always successful or successfully implemented from the top down: Carter Findley looks at the Foreign Ministry35 and John Barnes at the Ministry of Pious Foundations.36 Other works emphasize the influence of alternative structures of power – such as the agency of the family and patronage networks of Ottoman–Greeks, as studied by Christine Philliou.37 Although the narrative of the growing influence of Europe over the Ottoman Empire, or its westernization, has remained strong since the time of Davison and Lewis, the most recent research stresses the existence of ‘cultural cleavage’.38 S¸erif Mardin draws attention to calls to revitalize Mohammedan virtue and ‘Islam being used . . . as an ideological propellant’.39 Likewise, Maurus Reinkowski argues that traditional rhetoric was ingrained in the bureaucratic correspondence of the Tanzimat,40 and Carter Findley explains how the new law code was based on fikh (concept of sharia law).41 Education of the elites was one area where European influence was undoubtedly strong. Ottoman students were sent to the institutions of Paris in increasing numbers during the nineteenth century. Because the state went to lengths to prevent Ottoman students schooled in Paris being ‘unduly influenced by the detrimental values of a foreign culture’,42 even this facet of westernization can no longer be regarded as straightforward. The generation of the Men of the Tanzimat were heavily influenced by European thought. Their personal libraries included the works of Bacon, La Fontaine, Helve´tius, Montesquieu and Adam Smith.43 But a subsequent group, the Young Ottomans,44 sought to reconcile Montesquieu, Danton and Rousseau with contemporary European thinkers/statesmen and with Islamic concepts of government.45 A related development in the 1860s and 70s was a new emphasis on a traditional vision of Ottoman history and culture, which has been interpreted as an anti-Orientalist and proto-national development. The production of texts on Ottoman architecture and traditional costume for the 1873 Vienna Exposition,46 as well as the foundation of the Ottoman Museum, are examples of this emphasis.47 This continued during the reign of Abdu¨lhamid II when Ottoman history was used to emphasize the Islamic and Turkish nature of the Empire. One particularly interesting example of this policy is that the minber (pulpit) of the Hamidiye Mosque in Yıldız was specifically modelled on that of the Great Mosque of Bursa, thus encouraging a reconnection of Abdu¨lhamid’s imperial– religious image with the early heritage of the Ottoman Empire.48 The late-Tanzimat return to the roots of Ottoman identity and legitimacy has also been considered in the context of the increase in trade with Europe and the influence of non-Muslims. By the end of the nineteenth century, trade with Britain, France, Germany, Austria and Italy accounted for over three-quarters of Ottoman trade.49
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Non-Muslim merchants often served as the intermediaries of Western companies. They have been characterized in much of the historiography, as Hilmar Kaiser points out, as compradors and inassimilable groups that rejected Ottomanism and developed into their own nation states. It has also been argued that the cheap goods that nonMuslims imported caused the destruction of local Muslim artisans and industries and prevented the development of an authentic bourgeoisie.50 By the end of the century and the beginning of the next it can be concluded that ‘incapable of defending its territory and keeping together its population... the Ottoman State... was a failure’.51 Afflicted by substantial loss of territory since the turn of the nineteenth century, it had begun to lose its grip over European provinces that had formed its core.52 The Empire had taken on an increasing number of European loans since the 1850s, which continued until it defaulted in the 1870s. The Public Debt Administration was established in 1881 to ensure European control over the collection of Ottoman debt. These debts continued to grow due to the arms race into which the Empire was drawn.53,54 The issue of the need to reform the conditions in the eastern provinces of the Ottoman Empire, known as the Armenian question, became a tug of war between the Great Powers, the Ottoman leadership and various groups within the Empire.55 Violent events in the Balkans, specifically in Bosnia-Herzegovina in 1875 and the Bulgarian and Serbian uprisings, led to the European powers (who regarded themselves as protectors of the Empire’s Christians) demanding a right to intervene. Although international treaties, including the Congress of Berlin in 1878, put pressure on the Ottomans to undertake reforms in the eastern provinces, they continued to resist.56 The formation of the Hamidiye Regiments of Kurdish irregular cavalry forces exacerbated this situation.57 The 1890s were dominated by Armenian revolts and demonstrations, most notably in 1894 in Sasun and in 1895 in Kumkapı, which led to ‘large-scale slaughter of Armenians’.58 These demonstrations were organized by the Huncaks, an Armenian political party from Tiflis. Another party, the Tas¸naks (based in Russia), staged the 1896 occupation of the Ottoman Bank. The state saw the rise of these organizations as a threat to the security and territorial integrity of the Empire.59 They were also viewed as engaged in ‘an aggressive terrorist policy intended to catch the attention of the Western powers’.60 In relation to the 1890s massacres, some scholars argue that Abdu¨lhamid II was not aware of the degree of anti-Armenian feeling in the Empire.61 Naimark argues for the distinction of the Armenian Genocide of 1915 and the separate conditions that led up to it from the massacres of the 1890s, stating that the conditions of war (World War I) served as a ‘breeding ground for genocide’. Fortna also states that the events of 1915 show how the Armenian question had been ‘tragically resurrected in a radically different form’. Vahakn Dadrian and Taner Akcam take the view of the continuity of the 1890s with 1915.62 Factors that brought about the events include the encouragement of an ‘atmosphere of anti-Christian, Islamic chauvinism’,63 financial motivations, land disputes and refugee movements.64 Raymond Ke´vorkian gives a
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THE ARCHITECTS OF OTTOMAN CONSTANTINOPLE
thorough account of the process of the genocide according to the Armenian sources in the Nubarian Library. Taner Akcam uses Ottoman documentation from the Interior Ministry to show that there was a central order for the annihilation of the Armenians. However, as Quataert remarked, there is still work to be done.65 The study of the Balyan family allows for a reassessment of many of the issues central to the Ottoman Empire in the nineteenth century. The Tanzimat-period reforms can be viewed through the lens of the building sector, a case which reiterates the point that many of the attempted changes were not workable, and how nonMuslim architects without strong ties to the bureaucratic apparatus, led by the Balyan family, came to dominate the market. The image of the westernization of this period can be amended, but also the rise of nationalism can be adjusted, by viewing how members of the Balyan family carefully refashioned their Parisian education to the service of the Empire. Furthermore, it can be seen how non-Muslims like the members of the Balyan family, previously associated with foreign influence, and blamed as inassimilable, continued to be strong advocates for local produce and domestic industry. Likewise, the revival of traditional Ottoman styles in the 1860s and 1870s should not be seen as a proto-national backlash, but as the continuance of romantic Ottomanism in both Muslim and non-Muslim communities. In some ways the Balyan family mirrored the downward spiralling situation of the Armenians in the Ottoman Empire: the final member of the family to be employed extensively by the sultan (Abdu¨lhamid II), Serkis Bey, was, after allegations of embezzlement, charged in the 1890s as a mischief-maker and his property was confiscated. The historiography of the Balyan family, as well as the popular perception of their works, is bound up with the political events of the time and their subsequent retellings – as will be outlined below. First, it is necessary to provide two more contexts to frame the work: those of nineteenth-century Ottoman architecture and the Armenian community. Nineteenth-Century Ottoman Architecture The late-nineteenth-century Ottoman chronicler Mustafa Nuri Pas¸a wrote of the negative influence of Armenian and Greek kalfa on the building sector.66 He explains how earlier learned men had been raised through a system of medreses (religious schools); especially those established by Sultan Su¨leyman (r. 1520– 1566) in which independent medicine, geometry and cosmography were taught. Because the Ottomans became left behind in efforts to develop the sciences, methods of research and study, they became reliant upon employing foreign experts.67 Through inserting this reference to the medreses of the Golden Age, Mustafa Nuri Pas¸a expresses how he views the architecture of the nineteenth century to be symptomatic of the decline of state and society, as well as the dominance of foreign influence, since that time. Accounts from the Republican period show that nineteenth-century Ottoman works were regarded as alien to the values of Turkish architecture. Halil Edhem (1861– 1938), a member of the Republican elite,68 wrote about the Nusretiye Mosque: ‘Cette mosque´e n’est d’aucune importance pours notre art architectural’69 (this mosque
INTRODUCTION
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is of no importance for our architectural art). Ahmet Hamdi Tanpınar (1901– 62), a member of the Grand National Assembly, stated that in the westernization of the Abdu¨lmecid period one could see local and national life hit ‘as if by a little French polish’. The old mosques included their essential ornaments but had rococo decorators ‘used without hesitation’, ruining their singularity.70 This dash towards ‘collapse’ (co¨ku¨¸s) simply consisted of architecture that for a whole century imitated Western versions.71 The hybrid (melez) tastes during the reign of Abdu¨laziz included an Arab style and the C¸ırag˘an Palace showed ‘the lack of opposition to the use of all styles at the same time’.72 Survey books on Ottoman architecture have long disseminated a formalist point of view, following Austrian scholars such as Strzygowski, Glu¨ck, and Diez, but developed into a home-grown formalism, as seen in the works of Celal Esad Arseven (1876– 1971).73 These works by Turkish authors dismiss the architecture of the nineteenth century as reflecting the decline of Ottoman architecture. They state that it exhibits empty copies of the latest European fashions ‘isolated from the cultural movements that were its cause’.74 The descriptions of the styles used vary. Metin So¨zen (1936–) writes: ‘There were no distinct or definite architectural styles, only individually recognisable architectural features.’75 Others point to more uniformity, such as an empire style, beginning in the Nusretiye Mosque and continuing until the Dolmabahce and Ortako¨y,76 and followed by an eclectic style during Abdu¨laziz’s reign.77 As a parallel to the ‘cultural cleavage’ asserted by the historians of the period, the most recent art-historical works seek to emphasize ‘local’ aspects of nineteenth-century architecture. They point to the palaces’ reliance on the sofa unit from Ottoman– Turkish residential architecture,78 express the divergent characteristics of these buildings from contemporary European eclectic works,79 and stress ‘a locality and originality that do not immediately reveal themselves’.80 The great dearth of full-length works on nineteenth-century Ottoman architecture is largely to blame for the limited extent to which it has been studied. One short monograph traces an Orientalist style, following European works such as those of Owen Jones and Ludwig Van Zanth, but related to local conditions such as the writing of Usulu Mimar-i Osmani, the first history of Ottoman architecture, in 1873.81 However, this account too remains adherent to formalism and fails to acknowledge both the complexity of the style and the role of the Balyan family as arbiters of that style. Ahmet Ersoy’s thesis, concerning the text of the Usul-u Mimar-i Osmani, looks into the intellectual setting in more detail, but, likewise, virtually ignores the spectre of the Balyan family. The Usul is viewed as ‘a decisive turning point in Ottoman architectural history that left a strong imprint on subsequent revivalist architecture’.82 This text, and the architecture that came afterwards, is thus regarded as a reaction against earlier works and their westernization, reflecting the nation-building policies of the lateTanzimat. Although making a few professional connections between those persons working on the Usul and some buildings of the Balyan family,83 Ersoy implies that there was a separation between the Usul group and those within the building trade who were practical-minded kalfas rather than intellectuals.84
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Zeynep C¸elik also holds this notion that in the late-Tanzimat there was an intellectual development that led to the production of architecture with meaning (i.e., that was conceptualized in some way). She categorizes the works of the first half of the nineteenth century as ‘architectural pluralism’ applied to new building types and traditional structures.85 The addition of Ottoman, Islamic and then Turkish styles in later years is interpreted as a backlash against earlier eclecticism that had created ‘a deep seated anxiety’ among Turkish intellectuals.86 These views were expressed in the Usul-u Mimar-i Osmani, and in Ottoman internal documents that complain of the ‘opening the way for a style that was neither Turkish, nor Arabic, nor Gothic’.87 Sibel Bozdog˘an similarly explains how the architecture of the nineteenth century expressed foreign influence against which the elites of the late-Tanzimat reacted in order to create the first self-consciously modern discourse, but also the first antiOrientalist one.88 Bozdog˘an states that the seeds of nationalism were sown in the 1860s, with the production of maps, the census, the first novels, newspapers and then the Usul-u Mimar-i Osmani in 1873.89 The architects and intellectuals involved in these proto-national activities are viewed as distant from the architecture of the nineteenth century and its ‘orientalized and pseudo-Islamic styles’.90 They provided the backdrop for the arrival of the Young Ottomans and the rise of nationalism. Therefore the Balyan family and their Orientalist works are not viewed as part of this development to architecture with meaning– they are even implied to be an antagonistic cause. It can be surmised that the proto-national activities of the time instigated a writingout of the Balyan family as actors of consequence in the development of late-nineteenth to early-twentieth-century Turkish architecture, as Aleida Assmann stated: ‘In order to remember some things, other things must be forgotten.’ Yet, this is not always a malign forgetting: ‘Acts of forgetting are a necessary and constructive part of internal social transformations; they are, however, violently destructive when directed at an alien culture or a persecuted minority.’91 The ‘othering’ of Islamic architecture from the mainstream study of the history of art long prevented nineteenth-century Ottoman works from being viewed in the same way as the buildings of their contemporaries from Europe.92 Contributions such as those by Ahmet Ersoy attempt to reposition the Ottoman intellectual milieu in relation to its contemporary European movement of revivalism. This book aims to insert the role of the Balyan family at the centre of this repositioning. Yet, the importance of the Balyan family and their works has been minimized not just by Turkish scholarship, but also by that within Armenian Studies, which has tended to delineate the family’s role only in terms of cliche´s. Armenians in the Ottoman Empire Discussions on Armenian identity within the Ottoman Empire are usually introduced with a preamble on the separation of this community from the majority. The concept of dhimma is cited – a concept that underpinned (at least in theory) relations between Muslims and non-Muslims since the Pact of ‘Umar, drawn up by Caliph ‘Umar ibn alKhattab (634– 44).93 The Pact laid down a set of rules for non-Muslims, for example
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submission to the political authority of Islam, paying the cizye tax as well as the imposition of a ban on building new places of worship. The millet system is identified as another separator. It divided (again, in theory) the communities (known as millets) into three governmental units – Jewish, Armenian and Orthodox – each with a Patriarch or Chief Rabbi, and its own court system. Although there is some evidence that the Ottoman state perceived these communities as separate,94 the millet system can be seen as a creation myth promoted in the nineteenth century.95 Yet, repetition of these concepts continues to encourage a view within the historiography of non-Muslims as detached from mainstream Ottoman existence. Armenian narratives have long promoted an impression of the distinctness of their community. The image of Armenians making pacts with Islamic rulers in order to keep their sovereignty is common.96 Communities of Armenians are described as colonies, for example those of New Julfa or Madras. Some of these Armenians were encouraged to take part in business (that would profit the Islamic leader). He gave them a high status, including exemptions from some parts of the Pact of ‘Umar. However, they were prevented from accruing genuine leverage outside their communities and fell from power when the ruler removed his favour or prevailing conditions changed.97 One document, referred to as The Covenant of ‘Ali (‘Ali, the fourth caliph and son-inlaw of the Prophet) from H.40/A.D. 660, purported to give privileges to the Armenians in return for their loyalty.98 That an Armenian translation was made in 1767 and authenticated in Constantinople in 1804 shows how the special relationship to which it testified continued to be upheld. Armenian families in the Ottoman Empire certainly promoted their noble ancestry.99 This (real or invented) tradition continued into the twentieth century with Armenians claiming royal descent, as is evidenced in the documentation at the National Archives in Kew, England.100 Primary and secondary sources in Armenian have often encouraged the perception of Armenian– Ottomans as being actors of special consequence. According to Anasyan, members of the community were influential within the Ottoman government as celebis (moneylenders) from the sixteenth century. They helped in the receiving of berats (warrants) and served as intermediaries between the religious hierarchy and the court.101 Y.G. C¸ark also emphasizes the Armenian role as palace intermediaries such as the bezirgan and saatci. Their numbers expanded in the nineteenth century due to industrialization and increasing international trade.102 Nineteenth-century European travellers noted that Armenians held a unique status. M. Destrilles wrote in 1855 that Armenians had the closest relationship with the Ottomans.103 In 1839, L.P.B. D’Aubignosc described the intimate (but non-salaried) relationship of some Armenians with the royal family.104 The special relationship was propagated by poems in Armeno –Turkish to celebrate Mahmud II;105 likewise, the travels of Abdu¨laziz were met with enthusiasm from Armenian populations.106 In official texts Armenians were referred to as millet-i sadıka (the faithful community).107 A description of the ‘paternal treatment’ of the Armenians by the state was given in the newspaper Saadet (7 October 1890):
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For the last six hundred years the Ottoman Government has protected the Armenian Community and done all in its power to promote its happiness. Intelligent Armenians who can understand the actual state of their community when first it enjoyed Government protection, can, by comparing it with the present condition, realise the great difference. But it does not require a profound knowledge of history to understand that protection. Any ignorant stranger, when first he lands, has only to go out onto the highways and byways to meet with evidence of the Government’s paternal treatment of the Armenians.108 The two Tanzimat reform decrees of 1839 and 1856 heralded the equality of all Ottoman subjects before the law, in taxes, in government positions and in military service.109 The Armenian National Constitution (or Regulation of the Armenian Patriarchate, to give its Ottoman– Turkish name) of 1863, which included an element of lay participation, was part of a long negotiation process that was encouraged by the language of the 1856 decree.110 In the second half of the century, Armenians became involved in some of the Empire’s institutions. This was the result of the abolition of the sipahis (cavalry troops who collected revenues from the land) in 1830 – after which time Armenians took roles in the administration of their local areas.111 It was additionally caused by the exodus of the Ottoman–Greeks after the revolution.112 But there was also a need for a new type of official because of increased foreign relations.113 Despite this impression of Tanzimat egalitarianism as characterizing this period in Ottoman history, Armenian studies emphasize the separate trajectory of the Armenians. The most common narrative upholds the view that there was a transformation in Armenian identity that was catalysed by the European education of Armenian elites during the second half of the nineteenth century. This led to the promulgation of the 1863 Constitution and, in turn, to separatist movements and radicalization in the 1880s and 1890s. The Armenian literary, historical and political sources used in these accounts help to create this impression of a self-contained society. Literary historian James Etmekjian paints a picture of a Renaissance generation of Armenians who emerged in 1843 and dedicated themselves to ‘national advancement through tireless work’.114 Historian Vartan Artinian, sticking to the work of Archag Alboyadjian,115 emphasizes the opposition between the conservative communal leaders, amira (from emir, commander), and the younger generation who he refers to as Young Armenians (after S¸erif Mardin’s Young Ottomans).116 Connections that the Young Armenians made among the Ottoman governmental elites are not elaborated upon. Instead the image that remains is of a proto-national group. The work of Hagop Levon Barsoumian117 represents a change from this historiography. He introduces Ottoman contexts for the phenomenon of the amira class, and explains how it filled a gap in the Ottoman state apparatus at the time. However, his conclusion that the downfall of the amira class came about because their wealth and power within the community could not purchase power outside, continues to fall back on the favoured-society paradigm of old.
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Barsoumian accurately positions the amiras in relation to the Armenian community. He shows that they were given special titles within the Armenian community to denote their aristocracy,118 they wore ‘amira clothing’,119 and they had the right to ride a horse and have a retinue of horsemen, as well as defining themselves as a noble class through marriage, baptism and social functions.120 However, Barsoumian’s reliance on Armenian histories (he was denied access to the Ottoman archives) means that his account of professional relations remains sketchy. Barsoumian implies close connections between the Dadyan family, who were the amira family associated with the running of the Ottoman imperial factories, and the sultan.121 Barsoumian adds that industrial enterprises were exclusively in Dadyan family hands122 and that factories were staffed at all levels by Armenians,123 but the examination of further original sources is needed before such strong claims can be seen as persuasive. This book looks to a mixture of Ottoman, Armenian and European accounts to build up a fuller picture of the Balyan family as an example of the amira class identified by Barsoumian. It revises Etmekjian’s (and others’) notion of a transformation within the Armenian community, distances our perception of the nineteenth century from proto-national readings and demonstrates the Balyan family’s continued commitment to their Ottoman identity. In addition, this book makes other specific contributions to the discourse on the role of the Balyan family, contributions that are introduced below through a pre´cis of the historiography.
The Fraught Historiography of the Balyan Family Nineteenth-Century Beginnings Negative outbursts against the omnipresence of Armenian architects in Ottoman territories arose around the mid-nineteenth century. An early example is traveller Robert Curzon’s complaint, in 1851, that the Mosque of Mehmed ‘Ali Pas¸a in Cairo was ‘barbarous Armenian architecture’ and ‘the flimsy architecture of Constantinople’.124 Domestic Ottoman sentiments from the 1870s repeat similar notions. The Usul-u Mimar-i Osmani (1873) remarked that the state office for architecture, which produced Sinan and his disciples, had been replaced by Armenians ‘not versed in the styles and techniques of Ottoman architecture’ and ‘because they had an interest in foreign science and technology, made use of all the architectural methods then known. Applying some or all of these in the construction of Ottoman sacred and secular buildings, they produced a number of corrupt works’.125 Mustafa Nuri Pas¸a, as noted above, described the erosion of the mimar ag˘alık and its passing into the hands of nonMuslim kalfas.126 Lu¨tfi Efendi (1817– 1907) states: ‘Let’s not discuss large buildings which were made of old. For the buildings done in recent times, such as the Gate of the Grand Vizier, and tower, as well as the Nusretiye Mosque, weren’t architects brought from Europe?’127 That works such as the Nusretiye Mosque were built by the Balyan family shows how
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THE ARCHITECTS OF OTTOMAN CONSTANTINOPLE
the view of Armenians as carriers of foreign influence had turned into an image of them as foreigners by the end of the century. Intellectuals responsible for texts such as the Usul had internalized European Orientalist notions. These ideas were informed by the burgeoning academic disciplines of anthropology and archaeology – and their rational and scientific study.128 Within the Ottoman context, Orientalist ideas combined with the notion of the inferior status of gavur (non-Muslim) populations, which continued to have some hold over Ottoman public opinion – as outcries against the Tanzimat indicate.129 Orientalism then became ‘mirrored in and entangled with... nationalist narratives’.130 Armenian writers noted the backlash against Armenians in texts such as the Usul and were quick to defend their role in contemporary Ottoman society. For instance, Prince Dadyan,131 writing in Paris in 1867, stated that Armenian architects working for the Ottoman government were able to successfully combine European and Oriental styles; he added that they were not degenerate but were following in a long line of Armenian architects extending back to the time of Trdat who repaired the Byzantine cathedral of Haghia Sophia under Emperor Justinian.132 And so began a dialectical relationship between Ottoman– Turkish and Armenian accounts about the Balyan family. Late-Ottoman critiques blamed the Armenian kalfas for the decline of Ottoman architecture, and Armenian authors sought to support these figures. The backlash and its counternarratives continued until recently. Nineteenthand twentieth-century events – the Hamidian massacres, 1915, the Armenian exodus of 1929, the property tax of 1942 –3 targeting minority populations,133 the riots of the 1950s, the deportations of the 1960s,134 the Armenian Secret Army for the Liberation of Armenia (ASALA) assassinations of Turkish diplomats in the 1970s and 1980s, and other events affecting Armenian– Turkish relations – have given this discourse heightened gravitas. The fact that there were new additions to the historiography around such times of unrest illustrates the extent of the politicization of the subject. Yet, despite a chronological progression there has been little actual change in the content of the narratives issued at these moments of disjuncture.135 Armenian Authors and the Creation of an Armenian ‘Genius Figure’ One important reason for the continuance of certain narratives is the reliance on limited source materials. For Armenian authors, these source materials consist of Armenian nineteenth- and early-twentieth-century histories. These accounts offer a vision of the Armenian community that emphasizes the benevolent role of the amiras and their image as the favoured society of Islamic rulers. Avedis Berberyan’s History of the Armenians136 of 1871 is a prime example. A contemporary acquainted with many from the Balyan’s circle,137 Berberyan is potentially a reliable source, and his account is based in part on the records of the Patriarchate of Constantinople.138 Berberyan presents biographical details of members of the family, but alongside them are descriptions of seemingly folkloric episodes depicting the Balyans as favoured courtiers of the sultans. For instance, Berberyan describes how in 1844 Karapet Balyan
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and his assistant architect Ohannes Serveryan, along with the Dadyans, were given the privilege of wearing a golden tug˘ra nis¸anı (decoration in the form of the imperial monogram) on their fezzes. They, and other amiras, accompanied the sultan on a visit to a broadcloth factory in Izmit, and to the spa in Bursa. Because of their faithful service, the amiras were each given a jewelled box.139 Vahan Zartaryan’s Memories of 1910,140 also includes biographies of well-known figures such as members of the Balyan family.141 Zartaryan too includes inferences to the Balyan’s role as the sultans’ favoured society; for example, he records Abdu¨lmecid’s statement that Karapet, the son of Krikor, would receive 5,000 Ottoman gold coins every time a building was completed.142 A more extensive account of the biographies of the Balyans and a description of their building works is provided in the 1921 yearbook Teotik Amenun Daretsuytsi. Lapcinciyan Teotoros (known as Teotik) was a researcher who published a yearbook from 1907 to 1929 (moving from Constantinople to Paris in 1923).143 Teotik continued to promulgate an anecdotal image of the Balyan family as favoured society of the sultan – for instance recounting how Krikor Amira Balyan was imperial architect from 1777, under Selim III, Mustafa IV and Mahmud II, only losing the position for a brief period when he was exiled to Kayseri and was allowed to return when he sent Mahmud II a delicious pastırma (sausage).144 Teotik describes the European education of the later generations of the family. Yet, despite the emphasis on their modernized identity, Teotik credits their rise in status to continued sultanic favour; they attained the rank of Bey and were given various gifts. Teotik also portrays the Balyan family as Armenian genius figures, not only as being among the first to achieve a European education, but also as artistic and benevolent leaders of the community. Serkis composed the folk song Mayr Araksi, and Karapet engaged in many good works such as rebuilding Bes¸iktas¸ Surp Asdvadzadzin Church in 1838.145 Teotik’s account of Balyan family biographical details, his description of their building works, his narrative of their status as the favoured society, and his creation of an Armenian genius figure by emphasizing their educational achievements, creative and technological inventions, charitable work, and attention to national culture, were adopted in the subsequent works of other authors with few changes. Written in the aftermath of 1915, accounts such as that of Teotik were attempts to preserve knowledge of people, things and events from the recent past, which had been (and were continuing to be) erased. The authors did not intend to create an academic historical study; hence they rarely referenced their sources. Their tendency to use a biographical emphasis may have arisen from their education under the tutelage of priests; their accounts are hagiographic and give a reverential treatment of an ideal subject. They also owe much to Vasari’s Lives of the Artists, which made genius figures of Leonardo and Michelangelo,146 and the biographically-centred art writing that followed with Van Mander, Bellori, Baldinucci, et al. The narratives and the emphases of the Armenian histories and almanacs continued largely unchanged into secondary accounts.
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THE ARCHITECTS OF OTTOMAN CONSTANTINOPLE
The first works written in Turkish on the Balyan family meant that a wider audience came to learn about their role. It was not a coincidence that these works appeared in the 1950s and 1960s, a time beset by riots and persecution of Christian minorities as a result of the Cyprus conflict. The publication of two works drawing attention to valuable contributions of Armenians to the locality was presumably intended to paint them as the faithful society and to help turn opinion against their demonization as foreign collaborators and a threat to the Republic. Y.G. C¸ark’s Armenians in the Service of the Turkish State of 1953,147 was among the earliest accounts in Turkish that included significant details on the Balyan family. The book consists of biographies on the Armenian employees of the Ottoman state (or ‘the Turkish State’), including the amira families of the Balyans, Dadyans, Du¨zyans (directors of the Imperial Mint), as well as the Manas family (court painters) and many others. C¸ark’s account follows that of earlier Armenian authors, most notably Teotik, but with a longer list of buildings attributed to the Balyans as their architectural works, which became an increasing focus of later accounts.148 C¸ark diverges from the usual narratives when he mentions an article from a Turkish journal of the 1950s149 about the building of the Dolmabahce Palace. The article states that the identity of the architect responsible for the plan was unspecified, but that one ‘Hacı Kalfa’ (Karapet Serkis Ag˘a), a well-known craftsman, was responsible for supervising the project and given a salary of three and a half million gold coins.150 C¸ark asserts that this craftsman would also have been responsible for the plan and states that although other kalfa were just contractors, Karapet Balyan was not among them, but served the state for a long period.151 Therefore, C¸ark was specifically addressing the counterdiscourse, still current in the 1950s, which cited that the Balyans were not architects (mimar) responsible for the design of their works, but kalfa. Yet, although C¸ark insists on their elevated role, he does not cite specific sources to prove his assertions. Kevork Pamukciyan was the next prominent Armenian intellectual to publish in Turkish on the Balyan family, primarily in Res¸ad Ekrem Kocu’s Encyclopaedia of Istanbul of 1960.152 Pamukciyan, like Teotik and C¸ark, relied on Armenian histories and almanacs, but was reticent to use references. He does however bring an element of analysis at some points: drawing attention to the divergent narratives concerning the origins of the Balyans153 and the misreading of the tombstone of Krikor Balyan by Zartaryan,154 but he also makes glaring errors.155 Pamukciyan’s work consists of the same basic format of biographical entries on members of the Balyan family. He also attributes architectural works to each member of the family on the basis of the information provided by the Armenian histories. Pamukciyan focuses on the good character and benevolent works of the two amiras, Krikor and Karapet, then emphasizes the Parisian education and engagement in Armenian development of Nigog˘os, Serkis and Agop: Nigog˘os is cited as the drafter of the 1863 Constitution, and Agop as patron of the theatre and the modernized Armenian language. Nevertheless, a close relationship with the sultan is a constant; Nigog˘os was Abdu¨lmecid’s art advisor, for instance, and Serkis’s and Agop’s decorations from foreign powers are praised.156
INTRODUCTION
17
Pamukciyan, in continuing the biographical approach of Teotik and C¸ark, disseminates the image of a well-rounded Armenian genius figure to a much wider audience through his encyclopaedia entries. This emphasis followed not only the Lives of Vasari, but also the contiguous example of Mimar Sinan whose role as Turkish genius figure was ardently promoted in the Republic. Mimar Sinan’s Turkish identity was emphasized to the extent that on 6 August 1935, scholars from the Turkish Foundation of History (established by Atatu¨rk) excavated his grave in order to carry out research on his ‘morphological and scientific personality’.157 Pamukciyan’s image of the Balyan family was not a rival to Mimar Sinan, but rather an accompaniment. Although it emphasized Armenian identity, Pamukciyan’s genius figure was always the locally-rooted loyal servant of the Ottoman sultan and state. The next major works on the Balyan family were published in the 1980s. An Armenian Mekhitarist wrote the first one. Mekhitarists are a branch of Armenian Catholics led by the eighteenth-century Abbot Mekhitar from Sivas who settled in Venice and Vienna. The Balyan Family, a monograph by Rahip (Father) Yeprem Bog˘osyan, was published posthumously in 1981. A thorough account of the Armenian sources, it covers not only the histories and almanacs, but also a great number of newspapers such as Masis and Meg˘u.158 Many of the biographical details in earlier accounts, such as that of Pamukciyan, are repeated, but the use of contemporary and near-contemporary sources gives these details added strength. Bog˘osyan focuses particularly on proving, using Armenian sources, that the Balyans were imperial architects, therefore contributing to the debate that has been ongoing since the nineteenth century.159 Another major contribution is Bog˘osyan’s use of contemporary periodicals that support the Armenian histories on the issue of the younger Balyans’ education in Europe (Nigog˘os,160 Serkis,161 and Agop162). Because Bog˘osyan’s work is virtually unknown to Turkish academics and not widely available even in Europe and North America, all but Armenian specialists have ignored his contributions and criticisms have focused on the subsequent work of Pars Tug˘lacı. The Armenian-Turkish linguist Pars Tug˘lacı brought the findings of Bog˘osyan and Pamukciyan to an expanded readership. The Westernization Period in Ottoman Architecture and the Balyan Family was the first full-length monograph in Turkish on the Balyan family, published in 1981 (and in 1990 in English). Tug˘lacı incorporates the biographical information and attributions of architectural works to the members of the family from the work of Pamukciyan. He adds information from the Armenian periodicals used by Bog˘osyan on the Balyans’ education in Paris. He also includes Turkish scholar Mustafa Cezar’s research in Ottoman newspapers. Tug˘lacı’s contribution is his consideration of a number of Ottoman archival sources, which he transcribes in an appendix. Tug˘lacı begins his monograph with a short introduction on Armenian architects within the Byzantine and Ottoman empires. Like Prince Dadyan, he views the Balyans as part of a long line of Armenians making a contribution to local history and culture. On the dust jacket of the book, Tug˘lacı makes clear his motivation for publishing the work:
18
THE ARCHITECTS OF OTTOMAN CONSTANTINOPLE
This book bears witness to a deeply affectionate Turkish-Armenian relationship that we see mirrored in historic documents. The affinity between these two peoples developed over the centuries into inalienable bonds of cooperation. Many joint works resulting from this cooperative effort have survived to the present day. There may be those who would like to deny this today, and I sincerely hope that the chain of evidence presented in this book will portray those happy times which were interrupted not so long ago.163 The acknowledgment of the difficult relations between Armenians and Turks since 1915, and the plea to return to happier times, was especially pressing in the 1980s, a time overshadowed by the activities of ASALA, which assassinated Turkish diplomats in order to attract the attention of the world press and gain political concessions.164 ASALA operations came to a head on 24 September 1981 when the Turkish consulate in Paris was stormed, 56 people held hostage, a guard killed and the consul wounded.165 Therefore, their most shocking actions (or ‘historic peak’, according to their operatives) happened when Tug˘lacı was publishing his work. The Armenian Patriarch was asked to issue press statements condemning the attacks and hold mass for the murdered Turkish officials, and pressure was put upon Armenians in Turkey to stop the actions of the extremists.166 Tug˘lacı evidently saw himself as attempting to improve the situation by distancing Armenians in Turkey from ASALA events, and testifying to the existence of ‘happy times’ through the use of ‘historical documents’ and a ‘chain of evidence’ to prove this ‘cooperative effort’. In addition to his brief reference to the social turmoil in the twentieth century, Tug˘lacı provides some art historical contexts that were not offered by the earlier works of Pamukciyan and Bog˘osyan, who limited their accounts to biographies and assigning architectural works. Tug˘lacı comments on the role that the Balyan family played in the westernization of the Ottoman Empire and the history of Ottoman architecture. However, his assessments are contradictory: at one point applauding that the Balyan family created ‘a unique synthesis’ of Ottoman and European traditions,167 but at another juncture criticizing their style and stating that the important social role of buildings such as the barracks should be appreciated, not their aesthetic features.168 By including Ottoman archival documentation, Tug˘lacı attempts to provide documentary evidence to prove earlier Armenian accounts about the elevated status of the Balyan family. However, the errors in his study create suspicion about these claims of the earlier Armenian accounts. For instance, although the Armenian histories referred to a ferman (decree) given to Krikor Balyan in 1809 that gave him privileges and tax exemptions, thus assuring his status was higher than other non-Muslims, only an Armenian copy was provided, not the original. Hence, Tug˘lacı refers to an Ottoman document to support the notion that Krikor was given tax and status privileges in 1809. However, the document is a Hatt-ı Hu¨mayun dated 29 August 1835 (after Krikor’s death).169 Although the document states that the privileges were indeed given to Krikor, the impression that Tug˘lacı’s use of it gives is that he is misleading the reader.
INTRODUCTION
19
Tug˘lacı’s treatment of another document giving Serkis the title of Ser Mimar-ı Devlet (Chief Architect of the State) in 1878 is the same.170 Because Tug˘lacı does not include any analysis of the content of the document, we are led to believe that Ser Mimar-ı Devlet was an official position akin to the chief architect (mimarbas¸ı), but the text clearly states that it was an honorary one. The fact that there are very few references to the Balyan family and their roles in relation to specific architectural works in the mass of documentation included by Tug˘lacı in footnotes and in the appendix also creates suspicion concerning his claims. This is not to say that he was not an important contributor to the study of the Balyan family: private drawings by Nigog˘os and Serkis, photographs, and information gathered from oral history give his work a unique value. However, his use of Ottoman documentation arouses the objections of those with a critical eye. A lack of references, repetition of cliche´s and frequent textual errors mean that the works of many of these Armenian authors, Tug˘lacı included, have been easy targets for those seeking to deflate the image of the Balyan family that has been portrayed. However, as will be seen, Turkish authors who have taken issue with this notion of the high status of the Balyan family have themselves repeated the same information and have not used evidence impartially, thereby creating an image opposite to that of the genius figure propagated by the Armenians. Turkish Critiques of the Role of the Balyan Family Turkish academic Mustafa Cezar’s study of 1971 identifies flaws in the Balyan mythology. His work is concerned with westernization in nineteenth-century Ottoman arts and architecture, and the role of painter, archaeologist and museum director Osman Hamdi Bey. Cezar, in contrast to the biographical emphasis of the Armenian accounts, emphasizes that we should view the case of the Balyans in the context of the rise of non-Muslim kalfa. He notes that in the early 1800s there were several non-Muslim kalfa who worked as a committee overseeing building works.171 Yet, despite this kalfa phenomenon, Cezar admits that during the reign of Mahmud II the Balyans took on a higher status than other kalfas and became palace architects (saray mimarı). Cezar emphasizes that the Balyan family’s role is mysterious. To illustrate this, he refers to a writ dated to 1878 from the Ottoman Archives giving Serkis Balyan the title of Ser Mimar-ı Devlet and stating that for a few hundred years Serkis’s ancestors were employees of the state architects.172 Cezar comments that this observation was likely added to lend grandeur to Serkis’s status. Cezar draws attention to negative aspects to the role of the Balyan family not mentioned by Armenian scholars, such as their involvement in intrigue,173 and throws doubt on the long list of buildings attributed to the Balyans. Cezar uses Ottoman newspapers to draw attention to the international fame of Serkis and Agop, their hunger for celebrity and foreign connections.174 The newspapers also detail Serkis’s engagement in entrepreneurial schemes: it is said that he proceeded with ‘actions that brought him personal gain in various arenas’, such as the founding of a large
20
THE ARCHITECTS OF OTTOMAN CONSTANTINOPLE
construction company175 ‘wholly (comprised of) non-Turk individuals’. Many of these individuals, we can tell from their names, were certainly Ottomans.176 Cezar makes other insinuations about the corruption of the Balyan family, especially in relation to Serkis’s downfall. He states that Serkis Bey’s salary was cut in 1877 and that there must have been ‘some kind of failure to do one’s duty on the part of Serkis’.177 However, the fragmentary documentation is not enough to prove that this was indeed the case. Cezar’s introduction of the notion of professional corruption into the historiography is based on a small selection of documents that are written from the perspective of the Ottoman state and thus biased against Armenians.178 In 1983, immediately following the publication of Pars Tug˘lacı’s monograph in Turkish, the Turkish architectural historian Feridun Akozan published a significant critique of the role of the Balyan family.179 However, instead of studying Tug˘lacı’s text for specific errors (which can easily be found), Akozan makes prejudiced intimations, many of which are repetitions of Cezar’s points. Akozan claims that the Balyan family were not architects, but kalfas, and he objects to the notion that the Balyan family were given the title of Hassa Mimarları – since the office was abolished in 1831. He draws attention to ‘false attributions’.180 He even adds that in relation to the buildings that are securely attributable, the praise should not be given to the Balyans, but to others, such as the French decorator Se´chan.181 More recent works, for example the 2002 doctoral thesis of Selman Can, continue the claims of Cezar and Akozan.182 Can worked for 14 years in the Ottoman archives, a fact that gives his assertions a sense of legitimacy.183 His thesis addresses reforms to the bureaucratic bodies that were responsible for the construction of Ottoman architecture and the role of Seyyid Abdu¨lhalim Efendi, whom, it is claimed, was the genuine architect of many of the works attributed to the Balyan family. Can charts the eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century decline of the Imperial Architects’ Office,184 the establishment of the Mu¨hendishane-i Berr-i Hu¨mayun (Imperial Engineering School),185 and the formation in 1831 of a new body, the Ebniyei Hassa Mu¨du¨rlu¨g˘u¨ (Directorate of Imperial Buildings), to replace the palace office and ¸sehreminlik (prefecture).186 The appointment of the former chief architect, the transfer of funding systems and duties provided continuity with the Imperial Architects’ Office.187 Since the Directorate of Imperial Buildings fell into debt and was unable to carry out its obligations,188 a new body was set up in 1848, the Ebniye Meclisi (Building Council).189 The Building Council prepared agreements with the contractors (mu¨teahhit) and presided over the tendering process (mu¨nakasa).190 Can describes these contractors not as architects, but as supervisors of works that were planned by the Building Council architects (mimar), such as Seyyid Abdu¨lhalim Efendi. The works were then put up for sale to the lowest bidder. He states that jobs were won at auctions by non-Muslims because they were ‘people of trade’, able to offer the lowest price.191 Can argues that, as leader of the Directorate of Imperial Buildings and the Building Council, Seyyid Abdu¨lhalim Efendi inherited the post of Chief Imperial Architect (mimarbas¸ı). Can claims that we can assign works that had previously been attributed to
INTRODUCTION
21
the Balyans to other individuals. For instance, he states that the Hırka-i S¸erif Mosque was built by Seyyid Abdu¨lhalim Efendi, and refers to documents and a plan.192 However, this documentation merely shows Seyyid Abdu¨lhalim Efendi as involved in supervising bureaucratic transactions such as estimates and cannot be regarded as evidence of creative authorship. The role of the new bureaucratic bodies is clarified by Gu¨lsu¨m Baydar Nalbantog˘lu who asserts, in contrast to Selman Can, that the engineering school was geared towards providing engineers with expertise in military structures and that the dissolution of the Imperial Architects’ Office marked the end of the traditional role of the architect as a state functionary. The bureaucratic posts within the Directorate of Imperial Buildings were filled by engineers.193 Oya S¸enyurt also emphasizes that the establishment of the Building Council in 1848 enabled the Imperial Architects’ Office to enter into the ‘mechanisms of the modern state’ because the body was no longer responsible for technical issues (drawings, plans, etc.), but instead took on a bureaucratic function.194 Both Nalbantog˘lu and S¸enyurt nevertheless agree with Can that building projects were put out to tender and won by non-Muslim kalfas and foreign private architects.195 Indeed, as will be seen in Chapter 2, the archival evidence suggests that the newly established governmental bodies did not carry out their duties despite the fact that their jurisdiction was specified in a number of documents. The Building Council was beset by decline and there was no mu¨nakasa process for the majority of imperial works. Can, in an echo of Akozan, claims that the members of the Balyan family were not architects (mimar) but kalfas, which, at the time, meant that they were mu¨teahhit (contractor). He states: ‘Bu nedenle, o¨rneg˘in Balyanlar, ins¸a ettikleri yapıların cog˘unlug˘unda mimar deg˘il mu¨teahhitlik is¸levini u¨stlenmis¸lerdir.’196 He, like Akozan, pays particular attention to the 1878 ferman that gave Serkis Balyan the title of Ser Mimar-ı Devlet (chief architect of the state) and states that the ferman was actually an irade, and therefore was an individual privilege, not an official title. Can further points out that this title could not have been bestowed officially because it had been abolished in 1831 when the office was disbanded. In the final line of his thesis Can states: ‘The first person to hold the title of Chief Imperial Architect within the history of Ottoman architecture was Mimar Sinan. The last owner of this rank was Seyyid Abdu¨lhalim Efendi.’197 The nationalist implications of the focus on Sinan, as well as the emphasis on the status of Abdu¨lhalim Efendi as Seyyid (descendant of the Prophet), clearly show the bias underlying the thesis. This bias can also be seen in the coverage of Can’s ideas in the Turkish media.198 Articles in the popular and Islamist Zaman newspaper familiarized the public with the ideas of Selman Can. One 2007 article states that the Balyans were not architects but contractors, and that works should be re-attributed to Seyyid Abdu¨lhalim Efendi.199 A second article, which stated ‘we should be reminded of the ideas of Selman Can’, coincided with an exhibition of photographs of the works of the Balyan family, sponsored by the Istanbul Municipality and the magazine Atlas.200 In the following years, extreme views were voiced online; for example, an article in Ufuk O¨tesi,
22
THE ARCHITECTS OF OTTOMAN CONSTANTINOPLE
a publication connected with Bozkurtlar (Grey Wolves).201 Yet, following a second photographic exhibition in 2010, organized by the Hrant Dink Foundation and Ag˘os newspaper as part of the European Capital of Culture events, there was a positive reaction in the mainstream press.202 The association of the Balyan family with certain aspects of the transformation of the building milieu over the nineteenth century, betraying a pre-conceived image of non-Muslims, is still widespread. The works of Gu¨lsu¨m Baydar Nalbantog˘lu and Oya S¸enyurt typify this kind of study. Nalbantog˘lu emphasizes that the pre-nineteenth century state was based on the devs¸irme system, and that architects were trained within the military and palace schools,203 and argues that the status of the architect was transformed into that of ‘an enlightened professional’. She draws attention to the growth of a building market and of private offices of architects, and states that this growth and structure were foreign to the profession in the Empire and did not include Muslim architects until much later.204 Nalbantog˘lu sees the Balyan family as part of these changes: Serkis had a permanent office in Pera,205 was the first to propose the establishment of a fine arts school,206 ‘had entrepreneurial ambitions uncommon among traditional Ottoman architects’ and ‘was after big profits’.207 S¸enyurt likewise looks at a long period in the history of Ottoman and Republican architecture and makes observations about the Balyan family as part of this ‘change’ and ‘transformation’. S¸enyurt mentions Serkis Balyan when describing yolsuzluklar (improprieties). She states that in relation to the building of the C¸ırag˘an Palace and other works a sahte defter (sham accounts book) was used and nearly 220,000 lira embezzled,208 concluding that this was the most significant example of ‘irregularities’ in Ottoman architectural history.209 Therefore, S¸enyurt, like Cezar, associates the Balyans with corruption on the basis of a sample of documentation used without critical analysis. A superior kind of study, the thesis of Cengiz Go¨ncu¨,210 thoroughly investigates a large number of Ottoman documents about the construction of Beylerbeyi Palace from 1863– 5. Go¨ncu¨ enables us to view these operations at close range, focusing on human networks, goods and materials purchased, as well as managerial procedures. He identifies documentation that suggests Serkis Balyan’s high status was tied to the sultan’s private purse. He also shows Serkis’s involvement in some creative aspects of the construction of the Beylerbeyi Palace.211 However, Go¨ncu¨ makes no connections between his findings and the debates within the scholarship, nor does he link the rich data on the networks involved in the building work to the authority of the Balyans. Therefore, the contribution of his work to our knowledge of the Balyan family remains underdeveloped. This book supplements Go¨ncu¨’s findings on the Beylerbeyi Palace through looking at the mosques built by the Balyan family. The analysis of documentation concerning these mosques adds another dimension to our impression of their building system. In Chapter 2, Go¨ncu¨’s conclusions about the status of Serkis Balyan are used to supplement ancillary documentation in order to prove the role of the individual members of the Balyan family as imperial architects.
INTRODUCTION
23
As the account of the Balyan family historiography given in this chapter shows, Ottoman, Armenian and European sources have not been thoroughly analysed in any previous study. The evidence presented by the buildings themselves has also not been exploited for what it can tell us about the Balyan family. Since the late-Tanzimat period, Armenian authors have used unreferenced sources or unofficial documentation to support the narrative of the high-status position and multifarious talents of the Balyan family. In contrast, Turkish authors have used Ottoman archival documents to reassess this image of the Balyan family. This book seeks to correct these one-sided interpretations by using a broad base of sources to give the most accurate portrayal to date of the role of the Balyan Family in imperial building programmes.
CHAPTER 2 THE POSITION OF IMPERIAL ARCHITECT AND THE BALYAN FAMILY
In architecture the Armenians have made considerable progress. The imperial palaces of Beylerbeyi and Tcheragan, the new palace of Dolma Baghtche´h (the elegant facades of which adorn the shores of the Bosphorus), the great barracks of Selimiye at Scutari, the Mosque at Topkaneh which adjoins the arsenal, and many of the bazaars and public edifices in the city and suburbs are the work of Armenian architects (Ubicini (1856), Letter VI).1 To Ubicini, writing in 1856, it was evident that the mid-nineteenth-century Ottoman buildings, such as the Dolmabahc e Palace, were largely the products of Armenian architects. The role of these architects has been criticized since the late-Tanzimat period. Recently, scholars such as Selman Can have claimed that the Balyan family were not architects, but project supervisors. Using Armenian, European and Ottoman sources, this chapter argues, instead, for the thoroughly composite nature of the Balyan family’s position. Although in some ways it was a continuation of the position of the chief imperial architects of the past, in others the Balyan family’s status and activities reflected their Armenian heritage, their education in Paris and factors such as the increasing ‘professionalization’ of the Constantinopolitan building sector. The chapter begins by introducing the pre-nineteenth-century Imperial Architects’ Office and the subsequent changes to it during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. It then presents evidence for the status of each Balyan: Krikor, Karapet, Nigog˘os, Serkis and Agop. The chapter shows how they were clearly not just engaged in the practical aspects of organizing and carrying out imperial works, but were creative actors on several levels. Furthermore, it presents evidence of their elevated palace-tied status that indicates that they were, in some ways, equivalent to imperial architects of old.
The Imperial Architects’ Office The establishment of the Ottoman state apparatus at the time of the conquest of Constantinople in 1453 included the formation of a body in charge of building works,
THE POSITION OF IMPERIAL ARCHITECT AND THE BALYAN FAMILY
25
the Hassa Mimarları Ocag˘ı (Imperial Architects’ Office). It was a palace office situated within the Birun, the external or governmental offices, as opposed to the Enderun, the inner palace service.2 There was also an Imperial Architects’ Office that was located in the Vefa quarter. This Vefa office, along with its records, was later destroyed by fire.3 Before the time of Bayezid II (1481– 1512) the position of the imperial architects ranked among the ‘distinguished royal servants’ (mu¨teferrika). This group of royal servants received monthly wages and included sons of noblemen, physicians, astrologers, painters, jewellers and other artisans.4 There were, from early times, constructionrelated workshops located in the royal storehouse that was part of the Topkapı Palace.5 However, it was not until the time of Sinan in the sixteenth century that the office ‘was bureaucratically consolidated as an administrative branch of the centralized state’.6 The controller of the Imperial Architects’ Office, who was known as mimarbas¸ı (also the ser-mimaran-ı hassa or mimar ag˘a), was part of the ag˘ayan-ı ehl-i hiref (craftsman chiefs) section of Ottoman state organization.7 The office also had considerable overlap with another office of the palace, the ¸sehremini (Prefecture), a body in charge of the practical management of building works, including the supply of materials to the city.8 The mimarbas¸ı was responsible for a team that worked below him. The team included a kethu¨da (steward or warden), the mimar halifeleri (trainee architects), kalem katibi (scribe), tas¸ı c (stone-cutter), sıvacı (plasterer), nakkas¸ (decorator) and minareci (minaret-maker).9 Those employed in the office became experts in one craft (for instance Yorgi minareci).10 Although some employees were designated as halife (apprentice) or ustad (master), the sources do not specify about what the different levels of the office involved.11 The hierarchy of the office was reflected in the delegation of works. The chief architect held control over the design, organization and supervision of important projects, whereas smaller or less significant works would be entrusted to an architect working under him. Imperial building works were surveyed by additional bureaucrats who would accompany the Imperial Architect to survey the building site: Sinan was accompanied by ‘a committee of experts’.12 The building procedure changed depending on the status of the work: its size and for whom it was being undertaken. For buildings constructed for the sultan, a model (maket or mu¨cessem resim) was prepared, which was then presented at an audience with him. Architectural models are depicted in the Surname (Book of Festivities), there are references to Sinan joining ceremonial parades with architectural models, and there is plentiful evidence that models were used in the eighteenth century.13 For important imperial projects, working drawings (karname) were produced, a few of which remain in the Topkapı Archives. The drawings were used to design projects and make calculations for the amount of materials that would be used.14 Generic mosques would only have required ground plans and basic elevation drawings. Simple structures would not even need a plan.15 At several stages of the more important projects, the sultan was involved in the design process. Sinan and the sultan held a consultation (mu¨¸savere) regarding the Su¨leymaniye Mosque, during which the plan of the building (resm-i bina) and the site
26
THE ARCHITECTS OF OTTOMAN CONSTANTINOPLE
were selected.16 Sinan sent progress reports to Sultan Selim II during the construction of the Selimiye Mosque.17 The preparation of estimates (kes¸f-i evvel) was an important part of the procedure for imperial building work. These were prepared by the architects involved in the projects, then submitted to the Divan-ı Hu¨mayun.18 Estimates were made both before and after projects were carried out. Payment was paid as credit after the first estimate. Then, after the work was finished and the second estimates were taken, the accounts were settled.19 A bina emini (building official), who was responsible for controlling spending, in particular regulating the purchase of materials and transport (nakliye) expenses, was appointed to large projects.20 The Imperial Architects’ Office coordinated the labour force on a building site and determined the builder’s salaries as well as the quality and price of building materials.21 Decrees show Sinan’s control over the building crafts and indicate that the state had a monopoly over construction materials. Sinan made deals with the producers of materials; for instance, he contracted, at a fixed price, brick-makers in Hasko¨y for bricks for the dome of the Su¨leymaniye.22 Piecework was also contracted out; for example, those with contracts from the imperial office cut stone to order.23 The chief architect supervised the building site. Cafer Efendi, the biographer of chief architect Mehmed Ag˘a, states that he had built his own office on the building site and supervised works from there.24 Despite the claim in Sinan’s biographies that he supervised all of his works (mu¨bas¸eret),25 it is likely that he and the other chief architects frequently delegated works to their assistants. In the eighteenth century the Imperial Architects’ Office underwent substantial changes, and architectural works were increasingly carried out by a group of nonMuslim architects, who in the past were referred to as kalfas.
The Rise of the Kalfas Kalfa has been interpreted as meaning mu¨teahhit or contractor.26 However, contemporary author S¸emsettin Sami’s account, which differentiates the definitions of kalfa and mu¨teahhit, suggests that this interpretation is incorrect. Sami states that a kalfa was an architect or chief craftsman (mimar veya bas¸ usta).27 Of the kalfa’s training he explains: ‘Bizdeki kalfaların cog˘u fenn-i mimari’nden beher duvarc ılıkten veya du¨lgerlikten yetis¸medir.’ This states that they possessed knowledge in the science of architecture including techniques of wall construction. In contrast, the mu¨teahhit was just a contractor of works (and not necessarily responsible for the design).28 Kalfas were predominantly, if not exclusively, non-Muslims. Documentation about the rebuilding of Surp Asdvadzadzin Church in Kumkapı in 1819 confirms this. Whereas the chief architect and his apprentices are referred to as ‘Hassa Mimarbas¸ısı Ali Rıza Bey’in bilnefs ve hulefasından hoca Esseyid Mehmed Rasim ve Mehmed Nuri kulları’, non-Muslim kalfas are referred to as ‘neccar kalfalarından Baron ve Manzil zimmiler’. Here, kalfa refers to a rank of non-Muslim builders, the neccar kalfaları (carpenter-builders).
THE POSITION OF IMPERIAL ARCHITECT AND THE BALYAN FAMILY
27
However, there was considerable flexibility in the use of the term. Sometimes both kalfa and mimar were used; for example, Jacob Melik, who was formally educated as an architect at the Beaux-Arts, is referred to as Mimar Melik Kalfa in Ottoman documentation.29 This example suggests that there was no clear professional separation between a kalfa and a mimar, although some authors have suggested that the kalfa was a master builder whereas the mimar was an architect with formal training.30 The name kalfa in many cases refers only to non-Muslim status. Kalfa could also be used as a name; for example, the linguist Ambroise Kalfa. Both before and after the eighteenth century, Greek and Armenian Ottoman architects were described without fail as ‘imperial architects’ in Armenian sources, but were also called kalfa.31 They held a high status in their communities and had contacts within the court, but their exact status in relation to the Imperial Architects’ Office is not clear. The specific nature of their training is not known. Yet, these individuals were involved in imperial works of great stature. Both Edirneli Agop Kalfa32 and Arabog˘lu Melidon Kalfa33 have been linked with eighteenth- and nineteenth-century imperial mosque projects. Ahmed Efendi34 states that the bina kalfası of the Nur-u Osmaniye Mosque was Simyon Kalfa zimmi,35 who is described as ‘the skilful non-Muslim kalfa from among the carpenter-builders perfectly proficient in the science of the craft’,36 and as having been given a robe of honour (hil’at ilbas ile ikram) and other privileges for his services, which denoted his senior rank.37 As a result of his service and loyalty, Foti Kalfa was awarded a ferman (imperial decree), including a list of privileges and tax exemptions in reward for his work on ¨ sku¨dar. The decree states that: important buildings such as the Selimiye Mosque in U according to our palace tradition, because there is a custom to be found of favouring servants like these, in order that Foti Kalfa will hold exemptions from taxes, a ferman has been granted to his person, so that he, within the community in which he lives, will receive fame.38 In the eighteenth century, there were active Muslim imperial architects, such as Mehmed Tahir, the architect of Laleli Mosque (and its bina emini Ali Ag˘a).39 Some projects are attributed to both a Muslim architect and a non-Muslim kalfa, such as Laleli, which is linked with Mehmet Tahir, but which a Greek source attributes to Konstantis Kalfa.40 Although they held roles of importance in imperial projects, kalfas did not have a prominent role in building works over a prolonged period. There was no particular family firm of kalfas who dominated imperial works before the Balyan family. In the eighteenth century, there was not one omnipresent name, which was the case for Krikor Balyan from the 1820s, but instead different kalfas, Greeks and Armenians, were responsible for works.
Building in the Tanzimat In 1831 the Imperial Architects’ Office was abolished and the Ebniye-i Hassa Mu¨du¨rlu¨g˘u¨ (Directorate of Imperial Building) replaced it.41 In 1848 the Ebniye Meclisi
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(Building Council) became responsible for preparing contracts for buildings and their being put out to tender (mu¨nakasa).42 However, it was unable to carry out its duties. An Ottoman archives document dated 1267/1850 chronicles its decline, and states that disorder (nizamsızlıg˘ı) had overtaken it, especially in relation to estimates (kes¸if) and accounts (harc tezakir). The document states that steps must be taken to resolve the situation, and suggests individuals from the neccarathane (workshop of carpenters) be appointed to the council.43 From 1848 onwards, official bodies appointed kalfas to important roles. The Building Council was the first to do so: three Ottoman– Greek and three Armenian kalfas were appointed, and other kalfas were allowed to attend meetings.44 Also in 1848, Karapet Balyan’s assistant architects, Ohannes Serveryan and his son Artin and Istefan Kalfa, were made responsible for mosque-building carried out by the Ministry of Pious Foundations and given a monthly salary of 500 kurus¸ each.45 They were selected from the carpenter kalfas (neccar kalfalarından mu¨nasebeti), but they are described as having a good reputation and being masters of their craft (mes¸hur ve mutesarrıf kalfalarından). These individuals were not just contractors, but were highly skilled and highly regarded, which led to employment (with a monthly salary) overseeing a number of projects. A few years later in 1855, another 23 kalfas were admitted into the Building Council and the Council of Tendering Contracts/Meclis-i Mu¨nakasa,46 which reflected that kalfas were increasingly included in official bodies. They were employed to remedy endemic disorder and corruption. Ironically, later sources, such as Mustafa Nuri Pasha’s chronicle, conflated their influence with the disorder and corruption.47 Yet, despite these examples of kalfas in influential roles, it is important to emphasize the varying status that they held in the Tanzimat. They often held subservient roles, and were employed to execute parts of building works. For instance, the University or Darulfu¨nun is credited to the Swiss –Italian architect Fossati, but many kalfas were involved, such as Yorgi who was paid for building the walls.48 These more junior kalfa figures represent economical, disposable workers. It was not uncommon for them to be fined and imprisoned because of alleged poor workmanship, corruption or embezzlement.49 There were also elite kalfas who rose to prominence at the beginning of the nineteenth century and continued to hold important positions in the reformed bureaucratic bodies. Todori Kalfa worked in conjunction with the Imperial Architects’ Office50 and was a member of the Building Council in 1848, but he also took on private commissions, some drawings for which are in the Topkapı Archives.51 A number of foreign architects of high status were also active in Tanzimat-period Constantinople. European-language newspapers such as Journal de Constantinople and Levant Herald record the appointment of these figures to building works and remark that they won the favour of the sultan. The sultan expressed his satisfaction with M. Smith’s British Embassy building.52 Another article states that the sultan gave a site for an opera, with ‘the plan as designed by Mr Barborini’.53 The sultan apparently made such decisions (about which architect to hire) on the merits of the architect’s
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previous works; for instance, he decided on Smith’s plan for the Church of Sts Peter and Paul in Galata because Smith had constructed the British Embassy, the theatre and other works that recommended his talent.54 These accounts indicate that the architects were in control of the plans they proposed, but that the plans needed approval. Smith presented a plan for the imperial kiosk at Tophane and it was immediately approved for usage.55 There are cases of architects producing a model: Smith presented one at an audience with the sultan, who inspected with keen interest ‘ce petit chef d’œuvre d’art et d’exactitude’.56 These examples imply that contracts for important building works were awarded directly by the sultan and his viziers (there are no mentions of any process of contract tendering) to foreign architects. They continued to carry out many of the activities of the mimarbas¸ı (preparing plans and presenting models at an audience with the sultan). Therefore, it can be suggested that a special system was used for Ottoman imperial (and other important) works that was separate from the ‘professionalization’ that is seen elsewhere in the sector. A similar scenario is seen in nineteenth-century Britain. When the commission for the building of the Palace of Westminster was offered up for proposals, A.N. Pugin stated: ‘I am afraid the rebuilding will be made a compleat job – as that execrable designer smirke has already been giving his opinions which May be reasonably supposed to be a prelude to his Selling his diabolical plans & detestable details.’ Pugin was clearly complaining about the prevalent jobbery (corruption through making profit out of a public office) rife in the building trade.57 Armenian and European sources associate the Balyan family with the construction of the vast majority of imperial works of the Tanzimat. It is highly unlikely that one bidder could have secured all of these contracts in a regulated ‘Dutch auction’ process. Indeed, since there is no indication of such a process taking place for imperial works of the highest importance, the sultan, as seen from the European-language newspapers, seems to have awarded such jobs on an informal basis. This may have involved a degree of jobbery, which apparently was a widespread practice in the nineteenth century.
The Status of the Balyan Family as Imperial Architects The Origins of the Balyan Family and the Nature of their Status Armenian histories, such as Zartaryan, tell that in 1683, Bali, an elder of the village of Bali or Belen in Maras¸, was introduced to an Armenian imperial architect close to Sultan Mehmed III, and married his daughter. Bali then became Imperial Architect. He died 16 years later, leaving a son, Minas Kalfa, who served under Ahmet III and Mahmud I, and died in 1703. Minas’s son, Magar, also became Imperial Architect, but was exiled to Bayburt, and returned after influential friends arranged for his pardon.58 Kevork Pamukciyan, citing gravestones in the Bag˘larbas¸ı Cemetery, argues that Krikor Kalfa was the son of Merametci (repairman) Bali Kalfa and that the family was from Derevank in Kayseri. Pamukciyan provides additional evidence tying the Balyans to Kayseri: Krikor Amira was exiled there in 1820, the Serveryan family (the Balyan
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family’s assistant architects), Krikor’s scribe Bog˘os Ag˘a, and 80 per cent of Armenian architects in Constantinople hailed from Kayseri.59 Pamukciyan, of Kayseri parentage himself, was clearly keen to appropriate the family for his city.60 Bog˘osyan states there is no evidence that the Balyans originated in the village of Belen in Cilicia.61 Instead, he offers another version of events and points to Armenian newspapers that state the first member of the family to take the name was Bali (the patriarch or forefather/nakhahayre: նախահայրը)62 of the old town/fortress of Bayburt. Subsequent family members took the name Balyan.63 Although there are links to both Kayseri and Bayburt in the Balyan family history, it seems that Pamukciyan and Bog˘osyan were mistaken in attributing their origins to these cities. Most of the accounts, and those most closely connected to the family, point to Belenko¨y as the city of origin. An 1875 Revue de Constantinople article by Alfred de Caston includes an interview with Serkis Balyan and represents the most direct account of the origins of the family. The article states that Bali left his hometown in Maras¸ to settle in Constantinople. He then married the daughter of one of the royal architects and inherited his father-inlaw’s title following his death. In the article Bali is described as ‘Restaurateur des baˆtiments du Sultan Mehmed IV’.64 Armenian scholar Archag Alboyadjian uses the account of Jean Saint-Martin in addition to the nineteenth-century histories to attribute the Balyan family origins to Belenko¨y. He states that around the middle of the seventeenth century the family took their name from that of a village situated between Maras¸ and Sis. Bali is now called Belenko¨y. In 1683 the mayor of the village, Bali Balyan, married the daughter of the architect of Sultan Mehmed IV. When the architect died his position passed to Bali and then to Minas in 1703, followed by Magar. Magar was exiled for a time to Lisonk in Bayburt, but recalled to the capital to work on the Nur-u Osmaniye Mosque.65 Although the bulk of the evidence points to Belen as the place of origin of the Balyan family, the chronology remains conflicted. Given that Mehmed III died in 1595, Ahmet III came to the throne in 1703 and Mahmud I in 1730, the Armenian histories’ version of events is impossible. The chronologies given in both the work of Saint-Martin, and De Caston are more likely. These claim the Balyan family held the position of Imperial Architect from the reign of Mehmed IV (1642– 91). The succession of Minas should be viewed as taking place in 1730 not 1703.66 Despite these uncertainties, many accounts – Armenian, European and Ottoman – refer to the Balyan family’s long history as architects to the palace. ‘Viscount’ Alfred De Caston (1821– 82), a long-term resident and well-known conjuror in the Ottoman capital, published several books with the local press. His work avoids some of the usual pitfalls of travellers’ or other European’s accounts.67 As Johann Strauss notes, his books are a precious resource on the reform era and the luminaries of the epoch, many of whom he seemed to know personally.68 As a graduate of the E´cole Polytechnique, it is likely that he knew Serkis Balyan prior to interviewing him in 1875. His accounts of the Balyans include considerable detail, which suggests a degree of familiarity.
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Even as early as in his 1868 work on contemporary Constantinopolitan society, De Caston devoted substantial space to the Balyan phenomenon.69 He draws attention to their ‘immoveable’ position, stating that they served as imperial architects ‘from father to son’ for over a century and a half and assumed a ‘hereditary role’. Echoing the Armenian histories’ chronology, De Caston notes that the Balyan family’s role as imperial architects began in the reign of Ahmet III, was continued by Bali under Mahmud I, and then by Magar under Osman III, Mustafa III and Abdu¨lhamid, and, finally, by Krikor (the son of Magar) under Selim, Mustafa IV and Mahmud II. The longevity and peculiarly privileged nature of the Balyans’ role is also noted by early twentieth-century Armenologists. Most notable among them is Fre´de´ric Macler, who writes that in Turkey, ‘since two centuries’, members of the Balyan family served as architects to the sultans. Macler lists their works and remarks that it was not until under Abdu¨lhamid II that ‘the privilege was revoked’.70 In another work, Macler describes how Armenian families occupied ‘enviable situations’ in the Ottoman administration since the time of the conquest (1453). This group includes the Dadyan family (who managed the imperial gunpowder factory), the Du¨zyans (in charge of the imperial mint) and the Balyans (‘les architectes attire´s du sultan’). Macler views the Balyans as part of the amira class, the concept of which is promoted by the Armenian histories, but he exaggerates the longevity to their role, that is, since the conquest. However, he adds that ‘[c]ette situation quasi-privile´gie´e ne devait pas tarder a` leur porter ombrage dans l’esprit des sultans’.71 Thereby, Macler repeats the ‘favoured society’ paradigm of the Armenian histories. He implies that this privilege was tied to the will of the sultan or his pas¸a and did not translate into independent power. An analogous account is seen in the work of Jacques De Morgan, another French Orientalist (but a Persian specialist) writing in the early twentieth century. He similarly sets the scene by noting how many of the ‘royal’ Armenian families of the past (Arzrouni, Mamikoniyan, etc.) migrated to western regions and continued to play an important role in the protection of their people and the promotion of national identity. The amiras were among ‘the families which had formed more recently, but who played an eminent role and had acquired a respected name’. Therefore, although he does not support Macler’s claim that the high position of the amiras began from the time of the conquest, De Morgan does view them as linked to the phenomenon of ‘royal’ families. De Morgan adds, in relation to the Balyans: ‘They had formed a dynasty of architects of talent, upon whom the sultans had conferred the construction of their palaces and mosques, during the eighteenth and nineteenth century.’72 In this sentence he is again underlining that they were a dynasty. Nonetheless, although emphasizing their talent and the longevity of their role (over two centuries), he does not use the words ‘imperial architect’ but instead implies that the sultan conferred on them the personal privilege of constructing his palaces and mosques. Therefore, like Macler, De Morgan indicates that this was a ‘special relationship’ not delineated within the state organization. Ottoman sources are vague about the origins of the Balyan family, but do attribute a long history to the Balyan family’s role. The archival document dated to 1878
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mentioned in the work of Mustafa Cezar, which granted Serkis Balyan the rank of Ser Mimar-ı Devlet, states that Serkis’s relatives had been in the service of the sultanate ‘for a few hundred years’ (‘Atufetlu Serkis Bey Hazretlerinin eba ve ecdadı bir kac yu¨z seneden beri Saltanat-ı Seniyyenin hidemat-ı mimariyesinde bulundug˘u gibi’).73 Cezar suggests that as that was the first document giving the position of mimarbas¸ı to a nonMuslim, the intention was to endow the Balyan family with a noble lineage. As is shown by the backlash in the chronicles such as that of Mustafa Nuri Pas¸a, there was sensitivity about the influx of non-Muslim kalfas. Indeed, Serkis fell from power soon after his promotion. Yet, the fact that the narrative of a long history within the palace is repeated in a number of European and Armenian sources74 suggests it may contain an element of truth. The evidence of Krikor Balyan’s high status also indicates that the family were not recent upstarts appearing on the scene. The Status of Krikor Balyan Armenian sources are unequivocal about Krikor Balyan’s exalted position endowed by the sultan and state. Teotik’s early twentieth-century almanac states that Krikor was given the title of architect ( jardarabed) ‘ճարտարապետ’ in 1777 by Abdu¨lhamid I.75 Berc Yerkiyean, an Armenian historian in the 1950s and compiler of yearbooks on the Armenian hospital of Surp Pırgic , says that Krikor was granted a decree for the position of royal architect ‘Արքունի ճարտարապետութեան հրովարտակ ստացած է’76 That Krikor Balyan’s gravestone refers to him, in Armenian, as royal architect (արքունի ճարտարապետ) and as Ebniye-i Hassa-i S¸ahane Krikor Kalfa in Ottoman, indicates that the understanding of his status was dependent on language. Armenian sources provide further evidence about Krikor’s position during the reign of Selim III. In 1910, the newspaper Jamanak noted that he received his title of ‘royal architect’ and patent from Selim III because of his hard work: ‘Հետեւաբար շատ հաւանակ է որ այս վերջին Սուլթանեն ստացած ըլլայ Գրիգոր Ամիրայ իր «Արքունի ճարտարապետ» ի տիտղոսը եւ պաշտօնը.’77 However, a source from 1910 may not be a reliable account on events some 100 years earlier. A contemporary account by Krikor Pes¸timalciyan from 1831, referring to Krikor Balyan as ‘royal architect’ (‘Արճանական ի վսեմափառ եւ յաւերժայիշատակ Գրիգոր Ամիրայ Արքունի ճարտարապետի’),78 is more convincing as he was a close contact of Krikor. According to Armenian histories, such as the work by Zartaryan, in 1809 Krikor Balyan was given status privileges and exemptions from taxes levied against nonMuslims.79 Given the parallel example of Foti Kalfa, it can be suggested that these awards were extended to non-Muslim architects of considerable importance. However, as Tug˘lacı’s work indicates, the contemporary Ottoman document was not located.80 Armenian sources emphasize Krikor’s close relationships with sultans. Teotik notes that Krikor was advisor to Selim III and ‘made a contribution in the plans of reform, which the janissaries stopped’ (i.e., the Nizam-ı Cedid or New Order that included the creation of a regular army). He describes how Krikor was very knowledgeable and had a great reputation at the court of Mahmud II. Ambassadors would even consult with Krikor before going to the sultan, and the sultan would communicate to the foreign
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ambassadors through Krikor. C¸ark also mentions Krikor’s close bond with Sultan Mahmud II, and his giving advice to Selim III, which led to Europeans saying ‘il e´tait le trait- d’union entre le se´rail et les puissances’ (he was an intermediary between the palace and the foreign nations).81 Teotik even credits Krikor with introducing Mahmud II to Kazaz Artin Bezciyan, who became Mahmud II’s personal banker. However, Teotik acknowledges the inherent instability of Krikor’s position. Krikor was subjected to plotting and exiled to Kayseri. He resumed his place as a favoured subject by sending a pastırma (Armenian sausage) to the sultan. Teotik notes that Mahmud II said, ‘I’ve heard that pastırma could be used to catch a mouse but I didn’t know it could set a man free.’ Teotik adds that Krikor had to fight foreign architects to pass his position to Karapet.82 Therefore, although his status soared to unprecedented heights there was always the threat he could fall from favour. These stories told by Teotik rarely contain any specific information about their contexts. Teotik never elaborates on how Krikor managed to serve as a diplomatic intermediary; he never mentions who it was that plotted against Krikor, why Krikor was exiled or which foreign architects tried to take his position after his death. That names and dates are seldom provided does not necessarily mean that these stories are false. However it does encourage suspicion, which could easily have been ruled out with the provision of a few more details. Armenian sources powerfully evoke the status of Krikor in the Armenian community. A poem by Krikor Pes¸timalciyan refers to him as ‘chief of princes’ (Գրիգոր Ամիրա իշխանապէտի),83 the position conferred on the Arzruni prince Ashot by the Abbasid Caliph in 862.84 The sultan may have recognized Krikor’s importance in the Armenian community, therefore allowing him to attend his court. The Armenian merchants of New Julfa who were integrated into the Safavid Shah’s household and given a title, which may have reflected an Armenian princely status, are a parallel example.85 European sources include an impression of Krikor Balyan’s high status. De Caston repeats the claim that he served as an intermediary between Mahmud II and European envoys. He also notes that, as a result of political manoeuvres, Krikor was exiled to Kayseri. Yet he adds that upon his return, his status ascended even higher, because he was awarded the Nis¸an-ı Iftihar (Order of Glory) decoration.86 De Caston essentially repeats the claims of the Armenian histories. He even similarly attributes the Beylerbeyi Palace, Selimiye Barracks and Nusretiye Mosque to Krikor. Although Armenian accounts and works by Armenophile French Orientalists substantiate the image of Krikor Balyan as elevated from ordinary Armenians, from ordinary architects and from ordinary court figures, most other European accounts, such as those of Ubicini and Curzon, do not mention the Balyans specifically, referring only in passing to the (positive or negative) influence of ‘Armenian architects’. It is only from the later works of Constantinople residents such as De Caston that a more indepth impression is gained. It is difficult to obtain an accurate contemporary image of Krikor’s role. Ottoman sources provide a similarly murky picture. Most of the archival documents that refer to Krikor’s activities relate to repair and rebuilding jobs of peripheral
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importance. In the 1810s he was engaged in works related to imperial apartments.87 In 1811 Krikor was involved in preparation of the salaries for building the imperial apartment in Pas¸akapı and in 1819 he repaired the Hasoda, Hazine, Kiler, and other rooms of an unspecified palace. Krikor also had a part in repairing important mosques ¨ sku¨dar (in 1815),88 and building of the past, such as C¸inili Valide Sultan Mosque in U mosques of minor stature, such as Hacı Bekir Mosque in Fındıklı.89 These kinds of works continued in the 1820s. In 1821 he was responsible for repairing Mahmud Pas¸a Mosque,90 in 1826 for repairing parts of the Hidayet Mosque in Emino¨nu¨,91 and in 1831 for building a mosque in Arnavudko¨y,92 but these were relatively small projects. However, Krikor was employed to build fountains, which showed his involvement in another typical duty of the chief architect of old.93 Krikor was also engaged in building institutions for the reformed state, most significantly in 1825 constructing the U¨sku¨dar barracks for the new troops.94 He was involved in works to other imperial institutions, such as rebuilding walls to the Mengenehane-i Amira (pressing house).95 He was given the important job of rebuilding the Osmaniye and other imperial mausoleums that had been destroyed by fire.96 Despite this evidence of Krikor’s engagement in construction works, there is no reference in the documentation of the Ottoman archives to his involvement in many of the most notable imperial works attributed to him by Armenian and European sources, such as the Nusretiye Mosque.97 However, the content of the transactions that refer to Krikor reflect a status of considerable importance. In his earlier works, such as building the imperial apartment at Pas¸akapı in 1811, Krikor is referred to as ‘Krikor Kalfa’ or ‘Bali og˘lu Krikor Kalfa’ (son of Bali), the latter of which is on his seal.98 The name of Krikor Kalfa is also seen in 1826, concerning rebuilding the Osmaniye and other mausoleums.99 Estimates (kes¸if) would be made and then the mausoleums would be built through the mediation or skill (marifetiyle) of Krikor Kalfa and his brother Senagir Kalfa (Senekerim),100 who is referred to as ‘Evkafı Hu¨mayun meremmetcisi’ (repairman of pious foundations). From the case of the rebuilding of the Osmaniye and other mausoleums, it can be seen that Krikor worked with his brother and had an authority over a number of jobs being carried out at the same time. However, Krikor’s status was distinct from that of Senekerim, who was affiliated with the Ministry of Pious Foundations. In contrast, Krikor is not referred to in relation to any bureaucratic department. The fact that as of the 1810s Krikor was using his own seal may suggest he was endowed with some kind of official role. Most of the documents that use the name of ‘Krikor Kalfa’ (from 1811, 1819 and 1822) are kept in the Topkapı Palace Archives. They refer to building activity undertaken during the functioning of the Imperial Architects’ Office. The buildings to which these documents refer are imperial projects: the building of an imperial apartment in Pas¸akapı in 1811;101 rooms in a palace in 1819;102 Hacı Bekir Mosque in Fındıklı in 1819;103 and a water storage point in C¸ubuklu in 1822.104 These activities, as stated above, are traditional activities of the Imperial Architect, even if they are not major works.
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In 1839, estimates were carried out for a group of projects at once (including construction of barracks for military bands, apartments for officers, an imperial pavilion and a storehouse).105 These works were built with the mediation (marifetiyle) of Krikor Kalfa and the ¸sehremini (prefecture). During the existence of the Imperial Architects’ Office, the authority over building works was shared between the prefecture and the Chief Architect. Since Krikor shared responsibility for overseeing this group of works in 1839 with the prefecture, this indicates that he had taken on a parallel role to that of Chief Architect. Although Krikor is most often referred to as Krikor Kalfa,106 one 1835 document about his tax exemptions refers to him as ‘Ebniye-i Hu¨mayun S¸ahane Kalfalarından Krikor Kalfa’107 (Krikor, one of the Kalfa of Imperial Buildings). This was the title most often used for his son Karapet and the next generation, Nigog˘os, Serkis and Agop. It set them apart from other kalfas because they were the ‘Kalfa of Imperial Buildings’ (i.e., their job title was specifically linked with imperial buildings). A slightly different version of Krikor’s title is on his gravestone: ‘Ebniye-i Hassa-i S¸ahane Kalfası Krikor Kalfa’.108 The activities that Krikor Balyan carried out in relation to building projects included making the estimates (kes¸if) for a number of projects at the same time. He was also involved in the construction process. The word ‘marifetiyle’ is used in documents to describe Krikor’s role, which was a word used in the past to refer to the involvement of the Imperial Architect in the construction process. Krikor’s seal and signature adorn the list of salary payments for those working on the imperial apartment of Pas¸akapı, which shows that he was responsible for recording and overseeing salaries. Krikor made drawings for architectural works. A reference to ‘bir kıta ressim mu¨cebince’, which he ¨ sku¨dar in 1825, shows this role.109 prepared for the barracks in U Most significantly, Krikor was given an individual salary by the Ottoman state. This salary, along with that of the Ebniye Memuru Akif Efendi, was transferred to the crown (in other words, seized) in 1863 (hazinemande edilmesi). The salary (maas¸), allotted by the financial ministry (Maliye Hazinesi celilesinden), was, at five thousand kurus¸, even higher than Akif Efendi’s four thousand kurus¸.110 This shows that Krikor Kalfa’s status was higher than the chief bureaucratic official in charge of Ottoman buildings. The contemporary Ottoman documents support the Armenian histories’ and Teotik’s narratives about Krikor’s tax exemptions (one dates from 1812)111 and his exile to Kayseri (an 1821 document addresses this).112 Both these events are recorded by Hatt-ı Hu¨mayun, or imperial decree, which also indicates that the bureaucratic transactions concerned an important individual. In both the decrees, Krikor is referred to as Krikor Kalfa. This may suggest that the title Ebniye-i Hu¨mayun Kalfası was given to Krikor at a later date (perhaps following the abolishment of the Imperial Architects’ Office in 1831). Although Krikor was not the Chief Architect in the precise historical sense (of the chief of the corps, i.e., mimarbas¸ı), his role had continuities with this position in that he had jurisdiction over several projects at a time and collaborated with the ¸sehremini. Nevertheless, there were some changes from the historic position of the mimarbas¸ı.
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Krikor tended to work with his family, as can be seen from his collaboration with Senekerim. In addition, there seems to have been, at times, an element of competition for works. One document referred to by Tug˘lacı describes Krikor submitting a plan for the Heybeliada Naval School, which was selected.113 There are also indications that Krikor had superior power over the new bureaucratic bodies. Not only did he receive a higher salary than Akif Efendi, but the Lu¨tfi chronicle tells how Krikor Balyan caused the dismissal of the Ebniye-i Hassa Mu¨du¨ru¨, Mimar Kırımlı Mahmud Efendi and the appointment of Abdu¨lhalim Efendi.114 The Status of Karapet Balyan Armenian sources give the impression that the sultans awarded Karapet Balyan a high status position, as had his father. Berberyan states that on 1 April 1844, along with the Dadyans, Karapet and his assistant architect Ohannes Serveryan were given the privilege of wearing a tug˘ra nis¸anı (decoration in the form of the imperial monogram) on their fez.115 Armenian newspapers frequently report decorations and other privileges given to Karapet. For instance, Masis (1859, issue 398) states that the Mecidiye Decoration was given to Bog˘os Bey and Mihran Bey Dadyan, as well as to the ‘Royal Architect’ (արքունի ճարտարապետ) Karapet and his sons Serkis and Agop. There are also some indications of close personal relations between Karapet Balyan and the sultans. Berberyan mentions that on 13 May 1844, Karapet Balyan and assistant architect Ohannes Serveryan, along with Ohannes Dadyan and Agop and Karapet Du¨zyan, accompanied the sultan on a visit to the Dadyan-managed broadcloth factory in Izmit, and to the spa in Bursa. Berberyan adds that on this occasion, as a reward for their continued faithful service to the sultan, they were each given a jewelled box.116 An important feature in the ascent of the Balyans to becoming recognized Tanzimat elites was receiving decorations. In Europe, medals were produced from the time of Pisanello in 1438 to commemorate an event, a person or an achievement.117 In the Ottoman context, although decorations were used for ‘coercion’ by the state for ‘men it could not discipline or control’,118 they became part of the symbolic code of the Empire. The medals were adorned with the Ottoman coat of arms and were increasingly intended to foster the goodwill of the recipients119 – in his portraits Serkis proudly displayed his. The Armenian sources tell little about Karapet’s role as an architect. In 1881, in the newspaper Masis, Derebey Dimoteos Vartabed states that Karapet trained in the village of Lisonk in Bayburt.120 Teotik informs that Karapet travelled to visit the ruins of Ani, which indicates an interest in Armenian architectural history.121 The majority of Armenian architects working in the nineteenth century were without formal training. As the ‘patriot’ writer Krikor Arzruni states, they built palaces and mosques (including the ‘seventh wonder of the world’ the C¸ırag˘an Palace and Abdu¨laziz’s mother’s mosque) and minarets, but were ‘without technical instruction’. Armenian painters were noted to be ‘autodidacts’.122 Undertaking travel to Europe was certainly likely. At the time of Karapet’s childhood, wealthy Armenians were sent to Venice and educated by the
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Mekhitarists.123 The Balyan family did have connections with the Mekhitarists. A Mekhitarist icon from Venice is kept in Karapet’s church in Bes¸iktas¸. Agop was sent to Venice after his education in Paris. Serkis was a friend of Hovhannes Ayvazovski whose brother Gabriel was a Mekhitarist monk. Another possible destination for Karapet’s education was Paris, where Karapet sent his sons, or England, where the Dadyans of his generation went on frequent visits. It is likely that Karapet was educated by private masters, as was the norm for amira families.124 European sources regarding Karapet Balyan are few and give only a short sketch of his status and works. Alfred De Caston states that Karapet succeeded his father Krikor under Mahmud II, was decorated with the Nis¸an-ı Iftihar and the Mecidiye and was responsible for the works of the (Old) C¸ırag˘an Palace and the Dolmabahc e Palace (along with son Nigog˘os).125 De Morgan and Macler, as well as other Armenologists, do not mention Karapet but instead focus on Nigog˘os. In the Ottoman documentation, however, Nigog˘os is alluded to rarely, but Karapet, his status and building projects are frequently mentioned. He was awarded (along with Ohannes Serveryan and his sons) the same tax and status privileges given to his father Krikor.126 The 1835 document conferring those privileges begins by stating that his father Krikor (Ebniye-i Hu¨mayun Kalfalarından... Krikor Kalfa) had shown his loyalty as a state servant (hu¨sni hizmet ve sadakatına mu¨kafaten) and that the exemption was intended to encourage the same from Karapet (ebniye-i ¸sahanem ve sair miri ebniyesinde sadakat u¨zere hizmet etmekte olmaları hasebiyle). It states that Karapet had already served in a role linked to imperial building works (ebniye-i ¸sahanem hizmetinde mu¨stahdem).127 His position was clearly quite exalted, even by 1835. Ottoman documents support the Armenian sources about the decorations and ranks awarded to Karapet. For instance, an 1859 document states that ‘Ebniye-i Hu¨mayun Kalfalarından Karapet Kalfa’ was awarded the Mecidiye decoration for his service, as well as the Ottoman rank of the third level.128 The same rank and medal were also given to his sons Agop and Serkis.129 A variety of terms are used in Ottoman to describe Karapet’s status. The most frequently used is ‘Karapet Kalfa’, for example, which refers to him compiling a notebook of estimates in 1861 for the Yıldız Pavilion under the supervision of the Hazine-i Hassa Nezareti.130 The title of ‘Ebniye-i Hu¨mayun Kalfası Karapet’ (Kalfa of Imperial Buildings) is found in a number of centrally issued documents, for instance one dated 1853 from the Grand Vizier’s Office (Sadaret), dealing with the investigation of amounts owed to Karapet (and Ohannes).131 The latter title is also used in the context of building works; for instance, a document refers to porphyry columns to be delivered from Midilli to the Bes¸iktas¸ (Dolmabahc e) Palace by Foti, the employee of ‘Ebniye-i Hu¨mayun Kalfası Karapet’.132 Because this is the title used in a number of important centrally issued documents that relate to changes to Karapet’s status, it indicates that it was the definitive form. For instance, when receiving a decoration (nis¸an), which was documented by the Sadaret in 1859, Karapet is referred to as ‘Ebniye-i Hu¨mayun Kalfalarından Karapet’.133 The title was also used when Karapet and Ohannes received a ferman granting them tax
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exemptions (in the form of a Hatt-ı Hu¨mayun to the Sadaret from the Minister of the Imperial Mint/Darphane Nazırı, Ali Rıza Efendi); the ferman uses the name ‘Ebniye-i Hu¨mayun Kalfalarından Karapet’.134 Despite the title ‘Ebniye-i Hu¨mayun Kalfası Karapet’ being the most common one used to refer to Karapet, he was also given the title ‘Saray Kalfası Karapet’, for instance when rebuilding the Izmit Broadcloth Factory in 1843.135 That ‘Saray Kalfası Karapet’ still refers both to Karapet’s status as kalfa and to his connection to the palace shows that it was essentially the same title as ‘Ebniye-i Hu¨mayun Kalfası Karapet’ – and that Karapet was an architect (kalfa) responsible for the construction of imperial buildings (ebniye-i hu¨mayun). The Status of Nigog˘os Balyan Armenian sources admire Karapet Balyan’s eldest son, Nigog˘os. The almanac of the Armenian Hospital Surp Pırgic wrote about the death of ‘a talented artist’ in 1858 (տաղանդաւոր արուեստագէտ).136 A special edition of the newspaper Meg˘u (10 March 1858), written by Nigog˘os’s close friend Krikor Odian, and an article from the newspaper Masis (1858 issue 319) carrying Nigog˘os’s obituary are particularly informative. Both use the title royal architect (արքունի ճարտարապետ) and emphasize his creative role. Masis states that Nigog˘os had learned ‘the architectural art’ when he travelled to Paris as a teenager with Hac adur Bardızbanıyan and studied with ‘Baron Labrouste’, who was the head of ‘the imperial school of fine arts’. Nigog˘os returned to Constantinople in 1845 and worked as a royal architect under his father’s wing. The article further indicates his creative role, stating that ‘[t]he buildings that he constructed – the palaces, the mosques and other well-known buildings including the Dolmabahc e Palace – were marvelled at by European architects and by the sultan’. It describes his buildings as built using ‘extreme skilfulness’ and as characterized by a ‘refined taste’. The Meg˘u issue devoted to ‘Nigog˘os Ag˘a Balyan’ (Աղայի/Lord) begins by calling Nigog˘os a man of craft (արհեստի մարդ) but spends much time describing his studies in Paris at Sainte-Barbe, his education in ‘the architectural art’ and the favour shown by ‘Baron Labrouste’. Meg˘u also stresses the influence of literary figures, historians and philosophers on Nigog˘os during this education. Buildings attributed to Nigog˘os include the Audience Hall and entrance gates of the Dolmabahc e Palace, Ortako¨y Mosque, Ihlamur Pavilion and Tophane Clock Tower. Odian asserts that Nigog˘os was responsible for the plan of the C¸ırag˘an Palace, and this is among his best works, where his ‘skill and refinement’ are most evident, but he adds that Nigog˘os was ‘a follower of the architectural school of revival/renaissance’. Although they were evidently intended to paint in a positive light, these accounts are nevertheless contemporary sources with direct connections to Nigog˘os (the author of the Meg˘u article was his close friend Krikor Odian, and the editor of Masis was ¨ tu¨cu¨yan). Therefore it can be assumed another Paris-educated contemporary, Karapet U that they reflect some degree of truth (or at least self-representation). European sources give a related version.
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The´ophile Gautier, in his travel account of Constantinople, describes the architect of the Dolmabahc e Palace as ‘M. Balyan, a young Armenian of great intelligence, who speaks French fluently’.137 That this ‘M. Balyan’ is both young and fluent in French suggests that it is Nigog˘os.138 In his discussion of the style of the Dolmabahc e Palace, Gautier infers that Nigog˘os was responsible for designing the decoration: ‘The Sultan, in the same spirit which makes us build Alhambras at Paris, chose to have a palace in modern taste... M. Balyan, however, had need of a rare fertility of imagination, to decorate, in different styles, more than three hundred halls or apartments, with the restriction, above named, imposed upon his materials.’139 It is likely that Balyan himself gave this description (and that it reflects the sultan’s directives) as Gautier met with him and toured the building site in his company. Another prominent figure of the Parisian art world, Louis Bunel, describes in his 1854 account that the Armenian architect charged with the direction of the work of the Dolmabahc e Palace was also the author of the drawing: ‘L’architecte charge´ de la direction de ces importants travaux, auteur du dessin, est un jeune Arme´nien qui a e´tudie´ pendant plusieurs anne´es a` Paris.’140 Alfred De Caston, who was more familiar with the Constantinopolitan setting, provides a longer description. He states that Nigog˘os worked alongside his father Karapet on the Dolmabahc e Palace. De Caston also dwells on the favour of Sultan Abdu¨lmecid, stating that Nigog˘os had often served him on delicate occasions. De Caston adds that among Nigog˘os’s works are the Ortako¨y Mosque, the pavilion of Go¨ksu and many other imperial residences.141 European Orientalists and Armenologists, in contrast to the detailed account of De Caston, do not dwell on the local setting. Instead they stress Nigog˘os’ importance in Armenian history by focusing on his role in the writing of the 1863 Armenian Constitution. Jacques De Morgan adds that ‘Nicohos bey’ was the constructor of both the Dolmabahc e and C¸ırag˘an palaces.142 Few Ottoman sources refer to Nigog˘os. Some can be used to shed light on his status. In 1867, in the context of Karapet’s heirs’ inheritance, Nigog˘os is referred to as ‘Nigog˘os Kalfa’, suggesting he had not received the same elevated status as his father.143 Other documents can indicate at Nigog˘os’s networks. In 1858, a debt from the funds for pious foundations was owed to (the deceased) Nigog˘os. This debt was transferred to the son of Istefan (since Istefan was also deceased).144 This kind of financial relationship indicates that Nigog˘os worked alongside Istefan on multiple projects. Documents can also show Nigog˘os’s involvement in works. In 1869, financing for the C¸ırag˘an Palace was procured through Nigog˘os’s mediation (vasıtasıyla),145 which shows his involvement at the beginning of the C¸ırag˘an Palace, as suggested by the Armenian sources. On the basis of this small body of documentation it can be suggested that Nigog˘os was not very involved in the bureaucratic side of building works. The Status of Agop Balyan Armenian newspapers and histories note that many imperial privileges were given to Agop Balyan by the sultan. Masis (1859 issue 398) notes that he received the Mecidiye
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Decoration. Teotik states that Agop was given a set square and compass to wear on his fez, as well as being awarded the title of Bey.146 However, there are few traces of Agop’s role in architectural projects. Masis (1858, issue 319) states that ‘Little Agop’, who was at the time in Paris, would succeed Nigog˘os in his post as architect. Teotik notes that Agop, after attending the SaintBarbe in Paris, travelled to Venice and then worked alongside Karapet upon his return, and later with Serkis. He adds that for all the works built under Serkis, Agop made the plans (յատակագիծ).147 Pascal Carmont, largely basing his work on Tug˘lacı and the Armenian histories, also attributes a designing role to Agop and reproduces a drawing of an unidentified mosque that Carmont affixes to him (it is not clear on what basis). This mosque is in a neo-Renaissance style reminiscent of the Kag˘ıthane Mosque, which may indicate Agop’s authorship of Kag˘ıthane Mosque.148 European sources tend to discuss Agop’s position along with that of Serkis. Alfred De Caston says of the brothers that they succeeded Karapet and Nigog˘os in the post of imperial architect and constructed the kiosks of Kag˘ıthane, Topkapı, Izmit, Beylerbeyi and C¸ırag˘an.149 According to De Caston, Serkis and Agop were ‘les intelligents architectes et inge´nieurs-ordinaires de S.M.I. le Sultan’. They were well liked in Constantinople, possessed a large fortune and had each received Mecidiye medals.150 Ottoman sources on Agop are, similarly to those on Nigog˘os, far fewer than those on Karapet and Serkis. This may reflect the view of the Armenian sources that Agop and Nigog˘os were the creative minds behind architectural projects, whereas Karapet and Serkis were involved in the management, financing and presentation of the works to the sultan. It is also suggested by Armenian sources that Agop preferred to stay out of the limelight. The dearth of documentation is also due to the fact that both men died prematurely – Nigog˘os in 1858 and Agop in 1875 (having moved to Paris two years before his death). Ottoman documents do shed light on Agop’s status. For instance, in 1859, Agop, Karapet and Serkis were awarded the Mecidiye of the third class.151 This documentation reinforces Armenian and European sources that claim these brothers had a high rank, endowed by the sultan. Further evidence of Agop’s position is in 1871 documentation that refers to the transfer of the salary (maas¸) of the ‘Saray-ı Hu¨mayun Kalfalarından Agop Bey’. It is stated that the remainder should be transferred to the crown (hazimande),152 indicating that Agop was no longer working as an imperial architect at this time. Indeed, following the death of his wife in 1873, he moved to Paris. The evidence on the salaries will be discussed further below. That he was named ‘Saray... Kalfa’ in addition to ‘Bey’ in itself reflects Agop’s status as a continuation of that of Karapet. In 1886, over ten years after Agop’s death, the state continued to investigate the accounting for his works. One document reports debts from the building of the Ayazag˘a Imperial Pavilion. Agop is referred to as ‘Saray-ı Hu¨mayun Kalfası (mu¨teveffa olan) Agop Bey’, or kalfa of the palace. However, the document shows that his was not a regulated or secure status. The document concerns claims from inheritors (veresesi), which were referred to trial (mahkeme).153 It states that no papers could be found
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concerning unpaid dues to Agop Bey for this work, and so it was decided that the work would have to be re-estimated. This shows that his activities were not recorded by the state, and were also often unpaid.154 The documentation concerning his brother Serkis likewise reflects an ambiguous status that could be easily attacked by the Ottoman state in times of hardship. The Status of Serkis Balyan Armenian newspapers report Serkis Balyan’s stay in Europe and his education at the Sainte-Barbe, E´cole des Beaux-Arts and E´cole Centrale.155 The impression given is that Serkis was a formally trained architect and engineer. In 1858, Masis (issue 319), describes Serkis Ag˘a as ‘a student educated in an engineering centre in Paris’ (ճարտարագիտութեան) and already a successful royal architect (արքունի ճարտարապետութեան պաշտոնը կը վարէմեծ յաշողութեամբ). As noted above, some sources, such as Teotik, infer that whereas Agop took the more creative role, Serkis was the practical member of the team.156 Teotik also mentions the close relationship of Serkis with the sultan and Serkis being awarded a special headpiece and imperial decorations. He notes the awards that Serkis won from foreign powers and includes a long quotation from Le Monde Illustre´.157 This account in Le Monde Illustre´ is particularly significant because it shows Serkis’ growing international fame in the 1870s. It refers to ‘le ce´le`bre architecte, inge´nieur en chef de S.M. le Sultan’, celebrates his ‘oeuvre’ of buildings along the Bosphorus, ‘the fertile imagination and skill of his line’, as well as other references that make his creative role beyond doubt.158 In 1874, the reliable observer of Constantinopolitan society Alfred De Caston provides another account of Serkis’ status. He describes a project for the redistribution of water in Pera, noting that ‘His Excellency Serkis Bey Balyan, the Director of the Society for Public Works in the Ottoman Empire’, had constructed the Yıldız Kiosk – which was a marvel of architecture and decoration – rapidly and at low cost.159 De Caston remarks on how these waterworks were comparable to those of Europe because of their use of steam power and ‘the latest innovations in human engineering’.160 Serkis is held up as the figure with utmost responsibility for this implementation of technology, the development of metallurgic industry and ‘the Californian future of Turkey’.161 Providing a more personal side to his portrait of Serkis, De Caston notes that in Pera, in ‘the 6th Circle’, which rivalled Regent Street, Rue de Rivoli and Broadway, ‘[w]e can identify the princely home of Serkis Bey Balyan, (architectengineer to the sultan)’.162 The particular role of Serkis as architect to the sultan is also described by De Caston in ‘Le Grand Mouvement Architectural dans l’Empire Ottoman’ (1875).163 This article includes an interview with Serkis in which he claims that he served as a mere ‘surveyor’ in building works and only followed his sultan’s orders. Serkis states that ‘each time [he] has worked with the His Majesty [Abdu¨laziz], it was He who made the designs, chose the marbles, stones and metals, specified the ornaments and laid down the distribution of the interior spaces, as well as indicating the suitable furniture’.164
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As Ahmet Ersoy (who, along with Gu¨lsu¨m Baydar Nalbantog˘lu drew attention to this article in the past) has suggested, Serkis’s courteous tone indicates that it is more likely that the described roles were in reality reversed, and that the sultan was the surveyor of plans and Serkis the creative force behind them. However, at the same time, there must have been a degree of collaboration: projects would certainly be presented to the sultan and he would make modifications according to his taste. This procedure was the same as that which was used in the time of Sinan, who held a ‘consultation’ with his patron. The main point that the Ottoman documentation communicates about Serkis Balyan is his elevated status, which was remarked upon by the Armenian and European sources. Yet, these official Ottoman documents relate this status in more specific terms. In addition to the second-level rank given in 1859 to Karapet, Serkis and Agop, in 1867 Serkis was awarded the rank of the exalted first class (ula sınıf-ı seniyesi). His status was raised as soon as Abdu¨laziz came to the throne (and following the death of Karapet in 1866).165 The rank of the exalted first class meant that Serkis was referred to as ‘Atufetlu’ (benevolently inclined), which was a form of address reserved for the highest of dignitaries. Serkis was later given the rank of the ‘ru¨tbe-i bala’ in 1872, from which time onwards he was referred to as ‘Saray-ı hu¨mayun Bas¸kalfası saadetlu Serkis Beyefendi hazretleri’. This usage of honorific expressions (saadetlu, Beyefendi, hazretleri), expresses Serkis’s high position.166 The terms of address for the different ranks were laid down in the Elkab-ı Resmiye.167 The use of these when referring to Serkis Balyan shows that he was a high-level servant of the state, only just below the Vu¨kela (ministers of state), such as Serasker (Minister of War). The ru¨tbe-i bala included the Serkurena, the Mabeyn-i Hu¨mayun Bas¸kitabeti and the Dar-ı S¸ura Riyaset,168 indicating Serkis Bey’s relationship to the palace. Serkis Bey’s status continued to climb in the 1870s and was not only recognized by the sultan, but also by the foreign powers. One document mentioned in the work of Tug˘lacı (and referred to by Cezar) states that Serkis sent the Austrian emperor photographs of the C¸ırag˘an Palace and because of these he was awarded the ‘Krondo¨fer’ in 1872.169 In 1874 Serkis was given the Mecidiye decoration from Abdu¨laziz, as was the Armenian painter Ayvazovski, who had also worked for the sultan.170 The culmination of Serkis’s ascent was on 31 March 1878 when he was awarded the title of Ser Mimar-ı Devlet. The document giving this status, included in the work of Cezar and Tug˘lacı, states that because Serkis Bey’s relatives (aba ve ecdadı) had been in the sultan’s architectural service (Saltanat-ı Seniyye’nin hizmet-i mi’mariyesinde) over a few hundred years (bir kac yu¨z seneden beri), and because he possessed skill in the science of architecture ( fenn-i mi’mari) and geometry (hendese), he was given a special concession (bir imtiyaz-ı mahsus) and the personal rank (u¨nvan) of ‘Ser Mimar-ı Devlet’ (Chief Architect of the State). He was also given, for a while, a salary paid by the Treasury (Hazine Celileden).171 The content of this document indeed implies that (as Selman Can argues) this position of Chief Architect of the State was a personal privilege, not a fixed office in the
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manner of the mimarbas¸ı (the chief of the hassa mimarları ocag˘ı, within the birun of the palace). However, Serkis still carried out many of the duties of that position.
Balyan Family Activities as Imperial Architects Karapet’s Activities Ottoman evidence of Karapet Balyan’s involvement in making plans or designs for imperial building works is sparse. One document, dated 1854, concerning the coastal home of Moralı Celal Bey in C¸engelko¨y172 includes the phrase: ‘Ebniye-i Hu¨mayun Kalfası Karapet’in araste ve tarifesiyle’ (according to the description and drawing-out of the Kalfa of Imperial Buildings Karapet). But this wording does not necessarily refer to the production of a drawn (architectural) plan, for which the term ‘resm’ would normally be used. The majority of the Ottoman evidence concerns practical and administrative, rather than creative, tasks involving Karapet. For the (old) C¸ırag˘an Palace, he was responsible for purchasing goods (‘Karapet Kalfa marifetiyle mubayaa olunan es¸yayı’) and compiling a notebook for the Treasury, including a list of the items required for this work to be able to commence.173 Karapet frequently carried out estimates (kes¸if). For instance, the notebook concerning the building and repairs to the structures in the area of the Yıldız Palace in 1862 states that Karapet was responsible for the compilation of the estimates and for inspecting and measuring the project towards its conclusion.174 The Building Council checked the estimates Karapet submitted to the Ministry of the Treasury. This shows how, in the majority of his professional activities, Karapet acted in tandem with the Ministry of the Treasury and the Building Council. In light of the duties of the Imperial Architect, the fact that Karapet is seen carrying out estimates is significant. However, bureaucrats such as Abdu¨lhalim Efendi also undertook and checked estimates. Thus, an involvement with estimates is not in itself evidence of any involvement in the design of a work, although it does suggest a high level of responsibility for projects. The content and wording of the documents concerning Karapet’s estimates shed more light on his role, for instance those of the Tes¸vikiye Mosque (HHd.15181), dated 1854 and sealed by him. The final lines of text state that Karapet was responsible for the estimates for the mosque (and use the term ‘marifetiyle’): ‘Karapet Kalfa marifetiyle vakf-ı s¸ahaneden olmak u¨zere... Tes¸vikiye Cami-i S¸erifin masarıf-ı ins¸asiyesi bit kıta kes¸fe defteri.’ Karapet was given an advance to start the project (mu¨bas¸eret icin), which indicates that he was responsible for its running: ‘kalfa-i merkum yedine mu¨bas¸eret ic in bir kıta surete verilmesi.’ The estimates were also subject to the checks of Necip Bey, who seals the notebook.175 This shows that Karapet had a senior position in the process, but was overseen by bureaucrats. Another document, dating from 1843, mentions that the ‘Saray-ı Hu¨mayun Kalfası Karapet’ prepared the ‘ebniye masarıfatı’ (building salaries) for the Broadcloth Factory (cuha fabrikası), but they were submitted to the director of imperial buildings, Ismail
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Efendi,176 which again shows that bureaucrats oversaw his work. Another document suggests that Karapet had subordinates. It states that ‘the employees of Karapet’ were engaged in making second estimates for the Imperial Engineering School in 1850.177 Thus it is clear that Karapet had kalfa/architect employees running projects on his behalf. A second body of documentation concerns Karapet’s role in relation to finances. It is clear that he received bulk payments for works and was responsible for paying those working under him. For instance, for the Ortako¨y and Dolmabahc e mosques, Karapet and Istefan kalfas were given a set amount and the money was paid in instalments according to the ‘sergi pusulaları’ (payment memos).178 Another payment for the Dolmabahc e Mosque was made to Istefan Kalfa, and one for the Ortako¨y Mosque to Karapet Kalfa, which also shows the management structure.179 Karapet presided over paying of tradesmen (esnaf). One document from 1859 shows that he was responsible for (marifetiyle) distributing the building salaries to the esnaf.180 It states: ‘Ebniye masarıfatından esnaf matlubu olarak Karapet Kalfa marifetiyle ashabına tevdii olunacag˘ı meblag˘dan s¸ehriye yu¨zde iki itası mukarrer ise de esnaf-ı merkume is¸bu matlublarının biraz mu¨ddet te’hir itmesi.’ Therefore, Karapet was responsible for paying the tradesmen from the money he received for the building, and was given instructions on the methods for doing so. The fact that large sums were owed to Karapet Balyan by the Treasury also indicates that he held a senior managerial role over a number of projects. Works were paid for ‘esham-ı cedid’, which meant that the Treasury did not have the money to pay at that time and pledged later payment. Karapet had to rely on other sources of funding to run jobs. He had ties with sarrafs (bankers) who helped with the financing. One document from 1853 records that money was owed to Karapet along with his assistant architect and Sarraf Abraham, showing such links with bankers. The document states that the money owed had been investigated and found to be incorrect, indicating that these relations between Karapet, bankers and the state could be complex and cause considerable confusion.181 The primary state department that was involved in paying Karapet Balyan for building works was the financial office of the Ministry of the Treasury (Hazine-i Hassa’nın Maliye Hazinesi). In 1849 he was paid ten thousand purses (kese) of an outstanding amount.182 The document states: ‘Ebniye-i Hu¨mayun Kalfası Ho¨ce Karapet’e verilmek u¨zere Hazine-i Hassa-yı Hu¨mayun’da Maliye Hazinesi Celilesi’nden olan matlubatı... on bin kese ceste ceste (itasından gayret olunan u¨zere) tertib olunması.’ This reflects that Karapet was allotted a considerable sum (matlubat) from the Treasury, to be paid in instalments, around the time that he was beginning a large number of building works, such as the Dolmabahc e Palace. That Karapet was engaged in the supply of materials and the redistribution of payments implies that by the 1850s his building operations were large scale. He did not take on only one job at a time, but instead many at a time, which were not all tied to one bureaucratic office but supervised by several. He intensified his building operations, making contacts with merchants, bankers and tradesmen during the 1830s and 1840s so that by the 1850s he was an executive over a handful of works.
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A petition submitted to the Porte on behalf of Keresteci Kurdog˘lu, who had been employed by Karapet, gives more information on Karapet’s complex status. Kurdog˘lu alleges that he signed a ‘pusula’ (wage contract) to provide furniture for imperial buildings, which was given to him by Karapet, but which remained unpaid. Karapet, referred to as ‘Karapet Calfa l’architecte du Palais Impe´rial’,183 claims that he did not supply Kurdog˘lu with a document of obligation (to pay his salary) and that, therefore, he was not personally obliged to pay. Instead, payment should be made by the authority for imperial buildings or the minister of finances. Karapet describes himself as ‘a simple intermediary’.184 The document states: Que le sieur Carabet Calfa n’e´tant qu’employe´ du Gouvernement, comme... il devait se soumettre aux de´cisions d’une autorite´ Impe´rieure qu’il ne de´pendait pas de lui de modifier; Que le sieur Carabet Calfa a de´pose´ tels quels a` la Sublime Porte et a` la disposition de qui de droit, les consolide´s qui lui avaient e´te´ remis par le Ministe`re des Finances, pour l’acquittement de la ‘Poussoula’ posse´de´e par le sieur Kirestedji; Que le sieur Carabet Calfa en posse`de un se´cu en toute forme de la porte du Gouvernement Impe´rial; Que le sieur Carabet Calfa ne s’est jamais personnellement oblige´ au paiement de la somme due au A. Agop Kirestedji par l’Intendance des baˆtisses Impe´riales; Que le sieur Kurd-oglu ne posse`de aucun document obligatoire de Carabet Calfa; Et conside´rant enfin que Carabet Calfa n’a agi dans toute cette affaire que comme simple interme´diaire, et n’e´tant d’aucune manie`re de´biteur direct ni indirect du sieur Kurd-oglu.185 Therefore, although referred to as ‘Architect of the Imperial Palace’, Karapet also functioned as a – not so simple – intermediary between the state bodies and the contractors who were responsible for carrying out the furniture and decoration of his projects. This was a job of colossal proportions that meant that Karapet had to operate on several levels, providing estimates, managing money and distributing it, all in addition to his creative involvement on which the Ottoman documentation does not shed light. The Activities of Serkis Balyan As was the case for his father, there is no incontestable evidence that Serkis Balyan produced plans or drawings. However, it should be emphasized that it is very rare to come across evidence that proves that any particular Ottoman architect authored the plans for any project. Only one plan is associated with Sinan and most attributions come from his biographies, which were deliberately written, with his input, ‘to leave the permanent mark of his name and reputation “on the pages of time”’ and to create the image of him as a Renaissance man and genius-figure.186 For the case of the Balyan family, Armenian texts assign building works to each member of the family. However, these Armenian texts are not regarded as important or reliable sources by scholars of Ottoman architecture. This is despite the direct connections that many of these Armenian sources had to the family, such as Krikor Odian, the author of the account in Meg˘u, who was a close friend of Nigog˘os.
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Signed project drawings in the Bibliothe`que Nubar, and a proposal for a school of arts and industry submitted to the Porte in 1881 shed further light on Serkis Balyan’s creative role, and will be addressed below.187 Another indication of Serkis’ engagement in architectural practice at a professional level is a memo he submitted in 1868 proposing for the state to give him a special dispensation (imtiyaz) that would facilitate the building of coastal palaces in large numbers. This was an early proposal for what would later become the Ottoman Company for Public Works. It involved suggestions, such as for the importation of goods from Ottoman lands that would encourage the development of Ottoman territories.188 Therefore, Serkis was not only planning to undertake imperial building works in large numbers for his own profit, but had also assumed a statesman-like role in trying to use this position to develop Ottoman industries. It is curious that there are no signed architectural plans in existence that relate to Serkis’s or Agop’s authorship. The Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque (1872) plan is unsigned, although other documents relating to that work are signed by Serkis. Cengiz Go¨ncu¨ referred to Serkis Balyan presenting a model of the Beylerbeyi Palace to Sultan Abdu¨laziz.189 Additionally, a document referred to in Oya S¸enyurt’s thesis is signed by ‘kulları Serkiz’ and is about the building of two coastal palaces in 1890. Although it refers to ‘ber muceb-i resim ins¸ası’, this document does not state that Serkis was responsible for the drawings, only that he had undertaken building work ‘ins¸asını deruhte ettig˘im iki kıta sultan sarayı’.190 Many instances of Serkis’ involvement at a senior level in building projects can be identified. Serkis carried out the building of the Adile Sultan Palace in Kandilli and was in charge of the supervision of the building of the C¸ırag˘an Palace (nezareti uhdesinde oldug˘u). He was involved in organizing the building process of this palace, including the appointment of bureaucratic officials to administrate the work (memuru mahsus tayini ile ins¸aata mu¨bas¸eret olunmus¸).191 Serkis was involved in the production of estimates for the Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque (Mabeyn-i Hu¨mayun kalfası saadetlu Serkis Bey tarafından bir kes¸if defteri yapılarak) as well as in charge of the work’s progression (mu¨bas¸eret olunmus¸). There is a reference to a drawing for the project (yapılan resmi u¨zerine)192 but, again, the authorship is not clear. Significant phrases are frequently used, such as ‘Ser Mimar Serkis Bey marifetiyle ins¸a edilmekte olan’ (built with the mediation of chief architect Serkis Bey) which related to a stone pavilion built in the gardens of Yıldız Palace in 1881.193 There are also a number of documents that refer to buildings that Serkis was responsible for under Abdu¨laziz and at the beginning of the reign of Abdu¨lhamid II, which state: ‘Sultan Abdu¨laziz zamanında yaptıg˘ı ins¸aatlardan... Ser Mimar Serkis Bey’,194 and in 1882, a document states: ‘Ser Mimar – ı Devlet ‘Atufetlu Serkis Bey hazretleri marifetiyle ins¸a olunan ebniyesinin kes¸if-i sani.’195 Serkis was clearly responsible for a number of works (and estimates for them) under each of these sultans. The 1882 document, which reports the results of an investigation into the estimates provided by Serkis, surveys the calculations recorded in Serkis’s notebooks and receipts (Serkis Bey’in defterlerine go¨re). These calculations included estimates that were made by Serkis (icra olunan kes¸ifat), the salaries for imperial buildings (ebniye-i seniyye masrafatı)
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as well as Serkis’ receipts (Serkis Bey’in makbuzatı). These notebooks and receipts of Serkis were then compared with the amounts calculated by the investigation. This document is not only informative about Serkis’s downfall but is important because it clearly refers to Serkis’s practice of keeping a private notebook and receipts concerning imperial projects.196 There are indications of some imperial works going through a referral process. For instance, the wording of one document from 1876 infers that there was an element of a contracting-out (ihale olunup) for public/palace buildings (babhane). However, the fact that a very large number of public buildings are referred to in one document (no less than 82) indicates that this contracting-out was not done on an individual basis, but that a collection of (if not all) works were assigned.197 The majority of the transactions of the Ottoman bureaucracy regarding Serkis’s involvement in building works refer to estimates and payment issues. This body of evidence establishes that Serkis held a prominent role in such activities. For instance, Serkis was responsible for the estimates for the outbuildings added to the harem of the Yıldız Palace in 1878,198 and he prepared the salaries for the building, circa 1889, of two coastal palaces in Ortako¨y, Defterdarburnu.199 Additional bodies of documentation are concerned with the Ottoman Company for Public Works/S¸irket-i Nafıa-ı Osmaniye and investigations into Serkis’s conduct in the 1880s. After being awarded the title of Ser Mimar-ı Devlet in 1878, which was, in theory, a position within the state apparatus, Serkis’s building transactions continued to go unrecorded by the state bodies. Rare examples of such transactions concerning relations with craftsmen recorded by the foreign ministry elucidate how Serkis’s activities continued to be separate from the supervision of the bureaucracy. In 1878 a protest was submitted to the Porte by a French subject (Fransız tebaasından), Mo¨syo¨ Aristo Tobni, who had supplied various commissioned goods (siparis¸atı muhtelifi), including sheet iron from his Bes¸iktas¸ factory, to the building works of the ‘Mabeyn-i Hu¨mayun Ser Mimarı Serkis Bey Hazretleri’. Serkis owed this man 1,362 lira (bin u¨yu c ¨ z altmıs¸ iki lira), which Aristo Tobni requested be paid, either by Serkis or by the Hazine-i Hassa.200 That this document from the translation office refers to Serkis as the ‘Chief Architect of the (private apartments of the) Palace’ shows how his elevated status and relationship to the palace was acknowledged, even by the foreign-subject suppliers who worked with him. However, the document also shows that Serkis’ role was not clearly delineated within the state apparatus and his procedures were not supervised by the state bodies. Instead, he arranged for contractors to provide goods and kept a note of this himself. Hence, the signee, Aristo Tobni, is uncertain about who owed him the outstanding money – Serkis Bey or the Hazine-i Hassa. Another 1878 protest shows similar circumstances. Euge`ne Maillard and Savriyo Kalfa addressed this protest to Grand Vizier Safvet Pas¸a, and wrote on behalf of a team of English, Austrian, Italian, Russian and Persian furnishers and entrepreneurs and French negotiators who had contributed works to the Aziziye Mosque and the Akaretler (row houses). They requested payment both for the work carried out and for
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the objects produced, which were made ‘for the administration of the imperial palaces’. These individuals had tried in vain for three years to obtain payment and applied ‘to all of the degrees of the administrative hierarchy, without success’. The authors, presuming that the imperial treasury would not be able to pay these dues for the moment, proposed that ‘Serghis’ sell the creations that they had made for the imperial works and remit the funds to them.201 Considerable confusion surrounded Serkis’s role and his level of responsibility versus that of the state and palace bodies. The system of contracting-out (of elements of furniture and decoration) involved in his works meant that he, like his father Karapet, held the role of the intermediary between the suppliers (who were often subjects under the protection of the foreign powers, or even foreigners) and the Treasury, which was responsible for payment. Serkis was not simply the mimarbas¸ı of the past. He was not the chief of a bureaucratic office, which was clearly delineated within the state apparatus, and which had regulated duties, and regulated payments to the staff that worked below him within the office. Instead, Serkis’s role was much more complex and involved the coordination of different groups of people, including state departments, local, foreign and foreign-protected craftsmen. Kalfa Hoce Karapet The scale of the Balyan family’s operations was vast, involving craftsmen and artists from Europe and further afield, encompassing ‘new’ and ‘old’ building types, materials and techniques. How were they able to assume and to defend such a role? Karapet’s additional title hoce/hoca may help to explain how the Balyans were able to expand so rapidly over the Tanzimat, and to do so in many ways that were independent from the bodies of the state. To give an example, this independence can be seen in the 1859 document relating to the payment made to Karapet ‘esham-ı cedide’ for the Bes¸iktas¸ Palace, details of which will be discussed below.202 Before the second half of the eighteenth century when the amiras rose to power, there was ‘a loosely knit but recognizable elite’ within the Armenian community who were addressed by the honorific hoca. This term, of Persian origin, was used for the important merchants of the community. Although the term declined in use in the Armenian community, and was superseded by the term amira, in Ottoman documentation hoca is frequently used, whereas amira is not. The term hoca was also used to refer to a certain kind of Ottoman official.203 Particularly in the 1840s and 1850s, there were countless Armenians referred to as hoca. Many were bankers/sarraf, such as Mıgırdic (Cezayirliyan), Pis¸mis¸og˘lu, Mısırlıog˘lu, Pekmezog˘lu, Du¨zog˘lu, Horasancıog˘lu and Bilezikciog˘lu. There were also other hoca, such as Tiyatrocu Hoca Naum, Tas¸cı Hoca Apostol, and Hoca Istefan Kalfa, which shows that the honorific could also be used for entrepreneurs, traders and craftsmen. This was a new mercantile, industrial and creative elite that came to play an important role both in the Armenian community, and Ottoman society at large. Many hoca had links to the amiras, but the hoca of the 1850s and 1860s operated on an even larger and more international scale than their more parochial forefathers.
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Karapet Balyan did business deals with his fellow hoca. Mıgırdic Cezayirliyan owed him money in 1852 (Karapet Kalfa’nın Mıgırdic olan alacag˘ı keyfiyeti).204 Mustafa Erdem Kabadayı found that Mıgırdic owed Karapet 27,555 kurus¸ according to an I˙rade of the Meclis-i Vala. This debt was to be collected (after the downfall of Mıgırdic ) by the Hazine-i Hassa.205 These dealings with Mıgırdic and other powerful Armenian bankers and entrepreneurs suggest that Karapet’s status and activities were not entirely tied to, or funded by, the state. Yet, there are some documents that show that they were.
Balyan Family Salaries Karapet Balyan’s Salaries Karapet Balyan received regular payments from the state bodies, although it does not appear that he held any clearly delineated executive role within its departments. Two Ottoman documents that deal with the reassignment of Karapet’s wages following his death confirm this lack of a delineated role. The first concerns Karapet’s salary from the Ministry of Pious Foundations. It states that 550 kurus¸ was being transferred to the Chief Watchmaker of the Palace, Partemyos: ‘Karapet Kalfa’nın Evkaf-ı Hu¨mayun Hazinesi’nden mahsus ve mu¨nhal olan bes¸yu¨z elli kurus¸ maas¸ından bes¸yu¨z kurus¸unun Saray-ı Hu¨mayun Saatc ı Bas¸ı’ya Partemyos’a tahsisiyle lazım gelen senedinin tanzım ittirilerek ırsal olunması.’206 This indicates that Karapet’s salary, although paid from the Treasury of Pious Foundations, was linked to the palace because the individual to receive this salary after Karapet’s death was the Chief Watchmaker. The saatcıbas¸ı was a post, like the bezirganbas¸ı, associated with the supply of goods to the court that had been held by Greeks and Armenians and had grown in importance over the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.207 The second refers to another of Karapet Kalfa’s salaries that was reassigned after his death.208 It shows that Karapet received 8,500 kurus¸ from the Treasury of the Finance Ministry (Maliye Hazinesi), which included 1,500 kurus¸ from the Office of the Sultan’s Intimates (Kurena): ‘Karapet Kalfa’nın vefatı cihetiyle Maliye Hazine-yi celilesinden mahsus ve mu¨nhal olan sekizbinbes¸yu¨z kurus¸ maas¸ından binbes¸yu¨z kurus¸un kurena-yı hazret-i s¸ahane’den mahrec Hayri Bey’e.’ The fact that this salary was divided among several people after Karapet’s death indicates that it was a considerable sum. Some was paid to Hayri Bey, some to Karapet’s wife and sons (only Krikor and Simon are noted, who received 500 kurus¸ each), some to the second gardener (of the palace) I˙stekil and the rest was seized (hazine-mande edilmesi). Indeed, the majority was taken by the state. Although these salaries do not indicate that Karapet Balyan held an important role within the palace/state hierarchy equivalent to the post of mimarbas¸ı, that he was receiving one large salary and a smaller additional one shows that his ties were both strong and permanent and that he was not simply working on a contractual basis. Karapet’s status was similar to the pre-Imperial Architects’ Office status of the ‘palace servant-architect’ because he had a personal salary that was given by the palace. This
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was in contrast to the bureaucratization of the Imperial Architects’ Office under Sinan. Karapet’s ‘palace servant– architect’ status is shown by the allocation of a salary from the Maliye Hazinesi and the fact that some of it was from the Kurena. Krikor was paid 5,000 kurus¸ from the Maliye Hazinesi, which shows how there was strong continuity in their roles. However, Karapet was paid nearly double what his father was paid. Twentieth-century documents indicate that the Serkurena was paid from the Hazinei Hassa. This payment was dealt with in the same group of notebooks that refer to the payments of other important palace figures such as the Daru¨ssade Ag˘alıg˘ı and the Ceyb-i Hu¨mayun Kitabeti.209 This suggests that Karapet Balyan’s status was in some way tied to high-level palace servants, as was implied by the Armenian sources. This status can be seen more clearly for Serkis Balyan. Serkis Balyan’s Salaries The Maliyeden Mu¨devver, or circulars of the Finance Office (Maliye), record that Serkis received a regular salary (maas¸) from the Ottoman state. In 1869 both Serkis Kalfa and Agop Kalfa were paid a regular salary, as is recorded by a notebook of the Finance Office.210 In 1878 Serkis was referred to as ‘vezne-i umumiyeden Hazine-i Hassa muhassesatına mahsuben Serkis Bey’.211 In 1888, even after his fall from grace, he was called ‘Ser Mimar’ and given a payment that he was owed (‘Ser Mimar Serkis Bey’in matlupları’).212 The 1869 notebook (MAD 10627) states that ‘Serkis Kalfa’ was given a monthly salary (s¸ehri) of 6,250 kurus¸, whereas ‘Agop Kalfa’ was allocated 2,500 kurus¸, which gives an idea of the high salary that Serkis received from the Maliye. Although both salaries are less than Karapet’s 8,500 kurus¸ received from the Maliye, it should be remembered that Serkis and Agop each received a salary and that in 1869 they were still at an early stage in their careers (whereas Karapet’s salary was the amount he received at the time of his death). When Serkis’s and Agop’s salaries are added together, they are only slightly higher than Karapet’s salary, which shows how their total worth to the treasury remained roughly the same. The fact that Adile Sultan’s son-in-law, Rıza Bey, received the same amount as Serkis (6,250 kurus¸) illustrates Serkis’s rank in 1869. Therefore it can be claimed that Serkis’s status was equivalent to a minor member of the royal household. Yet, despite this evidence of an important palace-tied position, there is perplexingly little information concerning Serkis’s creative role as an architect. This dearth of evidence is alleviated to an extent by the contents of a proposal drawn up by Serkis in 1881 that can be found in the Ottoman Archives, and was first mentioned in passing by Cezar, then by Nalbantog˘lu, but was not available to researchers until recently.
Creative Roles as Imperial Architects Serkis Balyan and his Proposal for a School of Arts and Industry In 1881, Serkis Balyan submitted a petition, which consisted of a meticulously laid out curriculum and list of regulations for a School of Arts and Industry, to the Ottoman administration.213 The content of the proposal sheds light on Serkis Balyan’s
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substantial knowledge of architectural education and practice. It can be used as evidence to fill the substantial gaps in the Ottoman documentation about Serkis’s role in building works. The proposal begins with a two-year curriculum for an ‘I˙dadiye Mektebi’/high school, which was to function as a preparatory school for university-level courses. In the first year, lessons would consist of Ottoman and French languages, arithmetic, geography of the Ottoman domains, geometry of surfaces, writing and memory exercises, Ottoman history, hygiene and gymnastics. In the second year, studies would include Ottoman and French languages, geometry of surfaces and volumes, algebra and trigonometry, general geography, general history, drawing exercises, ‘the manner of keeping a private register for trade and industry’ and gymnastics. This curriculum shows Serkis’s expansive perception of the range of skills needed to be a successful architect – not only the more traditional mathematical skills, but also a range of languages, physical fitness, drawing ability and an administrative training that would enable the individual to carry out his own book-keeping. This is supported by the evidence in Ottoman documentation, which suggests that he recorded his own business transactions and did not rely on the state to do so. A further indication that this was likely to have been the case is the fact that in Armenian schools in Constantinople, such as the Cemaran Mektebi in U¨sku¨dar, book-keeping was taught to youngsters,214 as well as in the Sainte-Barbe in Paris. The courses on languages, history and geography, both Ottoman and general, also indicate Serkis’s identity as an intellectual who valued a humanistic (but cosmopolitan) education, and viewed it as important for Ottoman architects of the nineteenth century, but also a technical one. Serkis’s petition proposes that, following an examination taken at the I˙dadiye, the students enter the first year of study at the University (Darulfu¨nun). The university classes are also listed in full in the petition. The content of the first-year lessons included the application of physics and medicine to industry, dynamics, application of chemistry to industry, organizing maps, surveying and levelling land, geometrical descriptions, carving and cutting of stone, drawing of awnings and application of perspective, military training and gymnastics. This curriculum shows a favouring of scientific and practical skills that Serkis thought necessary for the training of modern architects and engineers. Many of these skills were promoted by the leading scientific institutions in Paris, such as the E´cole Centrale, which Serkis attended. As in the Centrale, Serkis Bey’s institution would require a general training in all of these skills in the first year. The petition deemed the listed first-year lessons to be indispensable (elzem olan) for the pupils (s¸akırdan). The following two years would contain instruction on theories and reasoning (nazarıyat), which would be based on the first-year foundations. At the end of the year each student would be able to decide on the content of his personal education (i.e., they were to specialize after the first year, just as at the E´cole Centrale). There were four specialisms on offer: architecture (mimarlık), mining/metallurgy (madencilik), building engineering (ins¸aat mu¨hendislig˘i) and chemistry (kimyacılık). The content of the class for
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those specializing in architecture gives a particular insight into Serkis Bey’s skills and practices as Imperial Architect. Students specializing in the science of architecture ( fenn-i mimari) would take lessons on fenn-i mimari’nın Yunan ve Roma usulu¨nden (the rules of the science of architecture from the orders of Greece and Rome). In addition, they would study ma’dud ¸sarki ve arabi ve zat ve farsi ve turki kava’idi (the customs that are considered Eastern and arab and Persian and Turkish)215. They would learn mebadı-ı ilm-i asar-ı atika (the basics of the science of antiquities), and be taught the practical skills of kitt’a-i es¸kal (drawings of shapes), balmumundan ve alcı’dan masnu’ model i’mallı (the manufacturing of an artificial model from beeswax and plaster) and yag˘lı ve sulu elvanla menkus¸ tasvirat (painting pictures with oil and water colours). In the third year, students moved on to model ‘imalli (manufacturing a model), resim tezyinatı (picture ornamentation), tanzim-ı layiha-i ins¸aat ve defatir-i kes¸fe (the organization of a building project and registers of estimates), another class on the science of antiquities, and another on painting pictures with oil and water colours. This was to be a broad training that involved not just the more traditional elements of the ‘science of architecture’ – whether defined in Ottoman or in Parisian terms – but would also include the management of building sites, administration of building works and the carrying out of various aspects of the construction from the planning (making the model) to the painted decoration and ornament. As has been seen above, there is some evidence from the Ottoman documentation that Serkis Balyan possessed these skills himself; he presented a model of the Beylerbeyi Palace to Sultan Abdu¨laziz, for instance. It can be suggested given the content of his proposal that such models were made from beeswax and plaster. This was apparently a widespread practice among Armenian architects, as Krikor Arzruni said in 1881: ‘the Armenian sculpts in marble a mass of small charming objects... including churches and mosques in miniature, so that they are used as models’.216 Furthermore, the attention paid, again, to the need for the architect to keep his own accounts and administrative work indicates that Serkis himself did so (and this helps to explain why there are so few official documents). Serkis’s perception of the importance of an education in different styles of architecture and of the study of antiquities shows that he was not just a kalfa or ‘man of practice’, but was also intellectually engaged in the study of historical architecture in order to produce his own works. The idea that it was not enough for an architect to be familiar only with his own ‘customs’ (the term ‘kava’id’ is used for the ‘Oriental’ architecture, whereas ‘usul’ or orders/rules is used for Greek and Roman) is a reflection of Serkis’s education in Paris under the influence of Viollet-le-Duc, who placed emphasis on the importance of scientific disciplines, such as archaeology for the modern architect, and the study of ‘Other’ architectural traditions made popular by Owen Jones and Bourgoin. The remainder of the proposal includes the course content for those specializing in mining, and includes classes on geology, mineralogy and inorganic chemistry, the geometry of materials and drawing. This was followed by guidelines for those wishing to
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become architectural engineers (ins¸aat mu¨hendislig˘i), including classes on the application of the science of physics, the science of dissolving organs (i.e., chemistry), drawing/ cutting forms and the application of dynamics. Lastly, there was to be a class, for those who wanted to become chemists (kimyacı), on inorganic and industrial chemistry. In the third year there were to be more specific classes on offer, including the potential large-scale official and industrial application of the skills learned during the first and second years. For the civil engineers, these would include courses for turuk ve maabir (roads and passages), demir yolları (railways), kanal ve akar sular (canals and running water), liman ve fenar (harbours and lighthouses), alat ve edevat (tools and implements), resmen sa’bat mezkureye tatbikatı (the official application of the aforementioned things). For the chemists, the third year course would include the application of chemistry for wool, silk and goldsmith production among other industrial usages. These non-architectural classes provide insight into the professional life and personal interests of Serkis Balyan. It is known that he not only worked as an architect, but that he also established the Ottoman Company of Public Works (S¸irket-i Nafıa-ı Osmaniye), through which he carried out the extraction of coal and other minerals, as well as the construction of railways. Serkis became increasingly interested in chemistry and established a laboratory on his island in Kuruc es¸me.217 There are substantial grounds, therefore, for viewing this proposal as an autobiographical document. Serkis Bey learned many of these skills during his education in Paris (at the Sainte-Barbe, the Beaux-Arts and particularly at the E´cole Centrale), but the skills also included practical methods rooted in his on-the-job training with his father in Constantinople. An additional point of interest about this proposal is that it gives expression to Serkis Balyan’s conception of Ottoman identity. This is shown by the extracurricular activities that he includes in the proposal. Encompassing not only gymnastics, but also musical training in savt (voice) and saz (instrument), they show Serkis’s desire to encourage the continuance of some elements of traditional culture through the Ottoman architect. It echoes the character of Osman Hamdi Bey, who, despite his Paris education, and corresponding with his father in French, continued to depict himself in traditional dress in his paintings, thus showing the (deliberate) perpetuation of certain aspects of his traditional/local identity.218 This inclusion of musical instruction also has some resemblance to the course in ‘leisure arts’ offered at the Sainte-Barbe, showing how Serkis’s proposal was truly a hybrid creation. Serkis invokes a progressive and egalitarian vision of Ottomanism in his proposal. Pupils would be expected to understand the Ottoman language, as well as being able to communicate in it in speech, but would be able to read and write ‘in their own languages’ (kendi lisanlarından okuyup yazmaları). This shows how the Ottoman architect of the future, according to Serkis Balyan, could be from any religious community, providing that he could understand and speak Ottoman. Statements in the proposal about the purpose of the school encourage the view of it being an inclusive facility for all of the peoples of the Empire, for instance, ‘I˙s¸bu
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tesisat-ı cedide-i cenab-ı malukaneden memalik-i osmaniyece ali al-umum istifade olunmak ve eyalat-i s¸ahane edeb ve ilim zatlar ile techiz buyurulmak’. This new institution was intended to benefit the peoples of varied regions by raising and equipping individuals with knowledge and training for the future. The proposal therefore not only sheds light on Serkis’s techniques and practices as an architect, but it also indicates a self-vision as an Ottoman statesman, fighting for the future of the profession of the Ottoman architect, and encouraging the values of Ottomanism and Ottoman industrial (and therefore also economic) development. Serkis Balyan’s Drawings in the Bibliothe`que Nubar Drawings in the Bibliothe`que Nubar in Paris both support the notion of Serkis Balyan as imperial architect responsible for the design of his works and indicate that his status was somewhat distinct from Ottoman bureaucracy. It is not known how these drawings arrived in this library, established in 1928 and named after Bog˘os Nubar Pas¸a (1825 – 99). As well as holding the collection of Nubar Pas¸a, an Izmir-born Armenian who moved to Egypt and served the Khedives, it contains the collection of Patriarch Ormanian. The drawings could have come from one of these individuals or from another donor. The fact that the drawings are held within a collection that is associated with the Armenian community instead of the Ottoman state is significant, as is their content. Unlike the plans and drawings by Ottoman architects of the classical period, and also unlike the plans and drawings from the nineteenth century that remain in the Topkapı Archives, these four large painted sketches (kroki) in the Bibliothe`que Nubar are each clearly signed ‘Serkis Bey’ (but not dated) and depict the interiors of the C¸ırag˘an Palace in full colour, myriad detail and with sophisticated use of perspective. These drawings show Serkis Bey as a highly skilled draughtsman taught in the European manner of the cours de dessin. They demonstrate how he planned every detail of the interior of the C¸ırag˘an Palace, from the Gothic windows used in the dome to the carved balustrade designs and capital types. These drawings are surely the evidence required to refute claims that Serkis Balyan was simply a mu¨teahhit (contractor) of works that were designed by (Muslim) architectbuilding officials. Serkis’s creative role, as indicated by these drawings, is also in contrast to the general impression given by the Ottoman documentation of Serkis’s involvement in more practical types of work, such as calculating estimates and supervising building sites. The European methods of design seen in these drawings, and the fact that they are from a private Armenian collection as opposed to being housed within the archives of the Ottoman state, indicate that Serkis worked in the manner of a ‘modern’ (i.e., European-style) private architect. Yet, the evidence of Serkis Balyan’s other practices (such as using a model and presenting this to the sultan) reflect how he also employed some of the traditions of the imperial architects of the past. The language of the Ottoman documentation (‘marifetiyle’, ‘mu¨bas¸eret olunmus¸’ and ‘ber muceb-i resim ins¸ası’) also encourages this image of continuity.
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Serkis Balyan’s status and role was a hybrid one that combined new educational developments, technological progressions, capitalistic financing methods, and other ‘modern’ or ‘Westernized’ aspects, with the continuation of many of the practices of the mimarbas¸ı. The same can be said for the other Balyan family members. Members of the Balyan family were never given the top post of a specific department (hassa mimarları ocag˘ı) within the palace hierarchy (the birun). Yet, there is plentiful Ottoman documentation that supports their high status, including evidence of permanent salaries equal to those of members of the royal household. The many Armenian and European sources testifying to their exalted position should also be pointed out. This position was, if not the Chief Imperial Architect or mimarbas¸ı, in the precise historical sense of that position, at least that of the architect of the sultan and his family, and the chief architect responsible for imperial buildings. This status was hereditary to an extent: Karapet’s sons, and even their sons, continued to hold elevated positions. The son of Karapet, Simon, who was educated in Armenian and French, was given the Mecidiye Decoration of the third class, and the lofty rank of the ‘mu¨temayiz ru¨tbesi’, and is referred to as ‘Ebniye-i Seniye Ser Mimarlıg˘ı hizmetinde bulunmus¸ olan... Karapet Kalfanın og˘lusudur’ (the son of Karapet Balyan who was found in the service of the Chief Architect of Imperial Buildings). This shows how Karapet’s rank as ‘chief architect’ was, with hindsight, recognized even in Ottoman documentation. Simon himself is referred to as having a still-considerable salary of 2,500 kurus¸ for his position as a kalfa tied to the S¸ehremaneti Hendeshane219 (school of geometry of the prefecture – institutions that had both once been tied to the old Imperial Architects’ Office). Furthermore, in 1904, Le´on Nigog˘os Balyan wrote that he was an architect with a diploma from Paris, but was living in squalor and was appointed by the order of the sultan, due to his poverty, to a position in the hendeshane (school of geometry) that had been occupied by his brother Simon Bey until his death.220 Therefore, despite Serkis Balyan’s problems in the 1880s and 1890s, some members of the family were later able to gain positions of significance and continued to have links to the old bodies responsible for imperial Ottoman works.
CHAPTER 3 KARAPET BALYAN AS AN AMIRA AND HIS ROLE IN THE MOBILIZATION OF THE ARMENIAN COMMUNITY OF CONSTANTINOPLE
He´rotik Amira restait de son bureau. Il e´tait sarraf (banquier), l’un des plus riches Arme´niens de Constantinople. Sa richesse lui donnait une grande influence dont il se servait au profit de sa nation: aussi en e´tait-il tre`s aime´ . . . Il y avait douze sarrafs, tous Arme´niens, du pays d’Akn. Ils e´taient reconnus officiellement comme banquiers par le gouvernement ottoman, et formaient une sorte de conseil dont He´rotik Amira e´tait le pre´sident. Quant au titre d’Amira, il leur e´tait donne´ par le sultan. Ils avaient, comme signe distinctif, un toura qu’ils portaient sur leur toque en astrakan. On ne portait pas encore le fez. Les ne´gociants avaient pour signe distinctif une sangsue noire, qu’ils portaient e´galement sur leur toque.1 Amiras were wealthy Armenians who became prominent figures in their community (the Armenian Orthodox millet) in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Most amiras achieved this prominence through banking, and others were ‘technocrat’ amiras, such as the Imperial Architects and managers of the Imperial Gunpowder Factory or the Imperial Mint. They were well known for their benevolent activities and their close relations with the sultan, as described by the Armenian histories and in Marie Sevadjian’s novel L’Amira. During the first half of the nineteenth century Karapet Balyan, as an amira, invested in the Armenian community, an investment that would not only secure the development of the community for its own sake but would also benefit his building projects. He prioritized his benevolent activities in areas that were linked to the promotion of the arts: the patronage of artists, the founding of educational facilities that produced a number of successful artists, and the support of the esnaf, or guilds. Karapet employed the artists, whom he had supported, on his imperial palaces and
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mosques in the 1840s and 1850s. In addition he worked with mostly local Armenian craftsmen and suppliers. Karapet took a primary role in rebuilding many churches in the capital, often in areas inhabited by the workers and suppliers who comprised the teams on building projects. This encouraged others to view him as a munificent leader and rallied support for his professional activities. Karapet used these church projects to develop the use of image-making in architectural decoration in the 1830s, a technique applied in the imperial works of the 1840s and 1850s. Karapet Balyan’s identity and activities as an amira, which peaked in the late 1830s to 1840s, contributed to his important position in imperial building projects in the late 1840s and early 1850s.
The Benevolence of the Amiras and a Renaissance in Constantinopolitan-Armenian Arts and Crafts Karapet Balyan as an Amira Karapet Amira carried out a range of works for the local Armenian community, works mainly tied to religious foundations and educational expansion: he established a school for agricultural technicians in Yedikule,2 the Saint Jacob’s Monastery and a seminary for priests, and he donated property to finance the seminary at the Armas¸ Monastery in Izmit and its preacher Deroyentz.3 Karapet endowed a number of pious foundations: in 1859 he created a vakıf (pious endowment) attached to a church he rebuilt in Bes¸iktas¸, a fountain in Yenimahalle, U¨sku¨dar, and the Mumhane drinking house in Karako¨y, which was tied to the Bes¸iktas¸ Church.4 His major philanthropic contribution was the sizeable number of churches he rebuilt in the 1830s.5 Like his father Krikor Amira, who was involved in attempts to heal disputes with the Mekhitarist Armenians, Karapet Balyan took on the role of a spokesperson for the Armenian Orthodox Church and Patriarchate. Along with Bog˘os Dadyan and Deroyentz, who was adviser to the Patriarch, Karapet was involved in negotiations with the Italian Catholic Church that sought recognition of Armenian orthodoxy and defended it against foreign influence.6 Karapet Balyan’s benevolent works were, above all, in defence of the local institutions tied to the Armenian Orthodox Church, against the intrusion of foreign missionary activity; he wanted to retain the status quo, within which he had an important role. But this cannot be written off as conservatism, as has been the tendency within the historiography. Instead, there is evidence that Karapet and the group of amiras around him engaged in cultural and educational initiatives that encouraged the expression of a modern Armenian identity (but within the Ottoman system of religious communities or millet and under the authority of the Armenian Orthodox Church) in the first half of the nineteenth century. The amiras mainly encouraged traditional cultural activities. They supported writers, like Krikor Pes¸timalcıyan, who are described as badveli (պատուելի, meaning a clergyman, honourable, or learned master) because they were not only linked to
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ecclesiastical circles but their works were mainly concerned with grammar, theology and exegesis, logic and national history.7 Ubicini commented: And, in spite of the general poverty and destitution of the Turco-Armenian schools, we find among the Armenians of the present day many men of eminent merit both in literature and science. I may cite in the first rank M. Tchamourdjian8. . . M. Krikos, professor of Armenian classic literature in the college of St. Cross, at Scutari, and member of the ecclesiastical council. . . and many others, all ecclesiastics. The talents of these distinguished men are unfortunately lost to the nation. Manuscripts accumulate under their pens, but remain buried in their closets for want of a publisher to incur the risk of printing them.9 Writers like Deroyentz and Pes¸timalciyan relied on employment in schools that had been established by the amiras or in churches they had rebuilt. These authors were connected to the Arabyan Matbaası, which was a press run by the amiras that published their works.10 The fact that amiras were writer’s patrons shows that they encouraged an expansion of local cultural expression. This has been ignored by the past historiography, which emphasized that the cultural revival of Armenians in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries referred to as the Zartonk (Awakening) took place outside the Empire and was driven by external factors such as the publishing activities of the Mekhitarists in Venice and the education of Armenians in Paris.11 The Amiras and the Guilds The Armenian guilds had an increasing leverage over communal politics in the nineteenth century. The rise of their political power (evidenced by an augmented presence in the communal councils) is often seen as being at the expense of the amiras.12 Alboyadjian provides a more nuanced interpretation and states that the ‘amiras of industry’ filled a void after the demise of the janissaries – and that support from the esnaf (guilds, or tradesmen) was vital.13 The Dadyans, Balyans, Serveryans and other technocrat amiras were intermediaries between the bankers and the esnaf. Although bad relations existed between the esnaf and the banker amiras, figures with strong links to the Balyans, like Kazaz Artin Bezciyan, were very popular with the esnaf. Shedding light on this intermediary role is an early-twentieth-century Ottoman document that tells how a portrait of Kazaz Artin was added to cigarette containers. The Ottoman official expresses concerns that Kazaz Artin’s image could be seen as an emblem with a metaphorical (mecaz) meaning.14 Kazaz Artin evidently continued to be popular after his death and this popularity was viewed with suspicion by the Ottoman authorities. The amiras, despite forming a privileged elite, were influential figureheads, clearly capable of mobilizing the masses to support their endeavours. The backing of the guilds was essential to Karapet Balyan’s dominance over the building industry. They were responsible for the supply of a large number of goods for
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imperial works, and the building accounts show how Karapet relied on largely local Armenian networks. The support of the guilds, through activities within the Armenian community, explains Karapet Balyan’s command of such large teams and resources. The Cemaran School further links Karapet to the patronage of the esnaf, who in turn supported him. The Cemaran School The Cemaran Mektebi was an Armenian high school established by Kazaz Artin Bezciyan, Ohannes Serveryan and Karapet Balyan in U¨sku¨dar in 1838. The venture caused a major rift in the Armenian community between banker and technocrat amiras, and signalled the increasing importance of the esnaf.15 It also shows the building of alliances between the technocrat amiras and the esnaf. Karapet Balyan and his circle of amiras gave their patronage to an institution that would play an important role in the cultural development of Armenians within the Empire. Following the establishment of the school, there was greater cooperation between the technocrat amiras and esnaf in the 1840s. This cooperation, combined with the support of Kazaz Artin, secured the election of a new Patriarch, Matteos, on 17 July 1844. Subsequently, a new Mixed Council was formed, which functioned as an advisory board to the Patriarch and managed the finances of the community.16 The school became a centre of political activity tied to the esnaf: on 6 April 1841 an association of 300 artisans and small merchants, the Miakam Ingerutyun (One-Willed Association) was formed to support the college.17 Young Armenians at the Cemaran Mektebi were well schooled in traditional and modern methods and ideas by a mixture of local and European teachers, and thus ideally equipped for the future. The school produced the next generation of artists,18 ¨ tu¨cu¨yan. The amiras also artisans, and important intellectuals such as Karapet U engaged in private initiatives to encourage the development of crafts within the Armenian community. Ohannes Serveryan and Tuition in Stone-Carving Ohannes Serveryan was Krikor Balyan’s building assistant and continued to work alongside Kirkor’s son Karapet, despite reported intrigue between the two.19 Ohannes Ag˘ayekyan describes how Ohannes Serveryan brought an Italian architect to his house to train his sons (and others) in the art of design.20 Ohannes Serveryan’s obituary in Masis (1858, issue 335) stated that ‘he introduced sculpture on stones and wood’, that ‘he was the royal architect [arkouni jardarabed ] for a long time, [and] he opened the way for others to have that career and to be as successful as they are today’. Even Masis, a progressive newspaper, recognized the important role that this amira played. The obituary also noted that Serveryan was the founder of the Cemaran School, and a church and school in Kuzguncuk, thus emphasizing his benevolent role as well as his status as Imperial Architect.
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Karapet Amira’s Patronage and an Armenian Renaissance in Painting Karapet Amira’s strong support of the expansion of nineteenth-century Armenian cultural expression is shown, most prominently, by his promotion of fine art. The painter Umed Ohannes Behzad’s (1809– 74) career, in particular, shows Karapet’s encouragement of a renaissance of Armenian art in the 1830s, which had significant benefits for his imperial works. Ubicini states: ‘Ornamental painting was formerly practised exclusively by the Turks, but of late years this esnaf has included many Armenians, among whom is the principal decorator of the new palace of Dolma Baghtche´h, Ohannes Oumed Behzad (called by the Italians Signor Speranza).’21 Born in Hasko¨y, and later orphaned, Behzad was educated at the Cemaran School where his talent for painting was spotted by his teacher Markar Ku¨rkcu¨yan; he was also taught by Italian instructors. Behzad was soon painting works for churches built by the amiras and between 1834 and 1844, upon Karapet Balyan’s request, he produced The Twelve Apostles for the Bes¸iktas¸ Surp Asdvadzadzin Church. He worked as court artist of sultans Abdu¨lmecid and Abdu¨laziz, painted portraits of Mustafa Res¸id Pas¸a and ¨ sku¨dar Governor Tosun Pas¸a,22 and taught painting in the Bahriye Mektebi (Naval U School), all of which showed that he was connected with the Tanzimat’s institutions and people. He worked repeatedly with Karapet Balyan on his imperial projects, including the Go¨ksu Pavilion, and C¸ırag˘an and Dolmabahce palaces where he was responsible for wall and ceiling paintings.23 Umed Behzad’s style of painting is a departure from Constantinopolitan-Armenian tradition in which works continued to be made in a fixed and static style, especially those intended for churches. An example is the mid-nineteenth-century works of Ananya of Hasko¨y in Surp Krikor Lusavoric Church in Kınalıada. In contrast, Behzad’s style is expressive, emotional and Italianate. This reflects not only his training under an Italian tutor, but also a broader tendency for Armenian cultural works to look more decisively towards European techniques for inspiration from the third decade of the nineteenth century. Yet, the name of Behzad (an echo of that of the sixteenth-century Persian painter), reminds us of the oriental basis to his identity. Ge´rard de Nerval, writing in 1851, describes a grand Armenian family (he does not reveal their name) who favoured ‘French painting’. Within their home, Nerval stumbles upon an artist painting a magnificent room, which resembles the Cafe´ Turc on the Temple Boulevard. He notes that this room has even more accurate decoration in an oriental style than the Parisian cafe. Nerval visits a chapel in Kuruces¸me where this un-named painter is painting an Adoration of the Magi.24 The Armenian banker amira Mıgırdic Cezayirliyan is another example of an Armenian patron who encouraged new artistic styles. His coastal home, which has been described as a work of Serkis Balyan and Mıgırdic C¸arkian,25 was built in Yeniko¨y involving the employment of a number of French personalities, such as Pierre-Victor Galland26 and Le´on Parville´e.27 They came to Constantinople to carry out the work and ended up staying for two years. Armenian Jacob Melik,28 who graduated from the Colle`ge Sainte-Barbe and E´cole des Beaux-Arts, was employed to build this mansion.29 Parvillee´ was friendly not just with Galland but also with Alfred de Caston,30 and
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worked on the decoration of the Dolmabahce Palace, as will be explored in Chapter 4. These artistic circles were evidently interconnected with those of the Balyan family. In addition to these international networks, the promotion of local Armenian artists trained in European styles and techniques was especially beneficial to Karapet Balyan’s career. As did Umed Behzad, the painters who flourished under Karapet Balyan’s patronage worked on many of his imperial projects. The further example of the artist Sopon Bezirciyan (1839– 1919) is another Armenian artist whose career expanded thanks to the Balyan’s support. Bezirciyan took classes from the most famous Italian artists of the time and worked alongside the Balyans on many projects, such as the Izmir Pavilion in 1858, and he was known particularly for his oriental style ornamentations.31 Karapet and fellow amiras such as Ohannes Serveryan were responsible for creating a new generation of artists through their establishment of schools, their patronage and their employment of these new artists on their own numerous jobs. They reshaped Constantinopolitan – Armenian material culture and modernized it according to their vision. We can see this reshaping process through the stylistic development of a number of churches built over the 1830s. The experience of building these churches gave Karapet Balyan and his team an opportunity to cultivate their approach to design. These cultural activities connected to Karapet Balyan were not proto-national. Paintings produced by Umed Behzad and Sopon Bezirciyan, on the whole, did not portray Armenian landscapes, historical episodes or personages. They cannot be linked to the increasingly national, and later nationalistic, themes seen in European painting.32 These Constantinopolitan artists produced almost exclusively religious works, including some portraits of contemporary personages (such as important Armenians and Ottoman viziers), as well as the decoration schemes for imperial building works.33 The paintings produced at this time are a parallel to the churches rebuilt in the 1830s and 1840s, in that they do not strive towards a separate identity but simply show a slight change in the presentation of the old order.
Rebuilt Churches and the Expression of Armenian –Ottoman Identity under Karapet Balyan The Church as the Locus of the Armenian Community The church was an important centre for communal activity and identity construction in the Ottoman Empire, even into the nineteenth century. Vital to understanding the importance of the church is the liturgy, which was: ‘an exercise of collective responsibility expressing a collective identity, a public, not a private, duty’.34 Armenian churches, as the site for the liturgy, tended to be resistant to change, and when the architecture and decoration did change it was a social act. The Armenian Church was also a political body. As Levon Abrahamian states: It is characteristic that in a group without national statehood, as were the Persian Armenians of New Jugha [Julfa], there was an obligatory traditional toast to the
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health of the Catholicos, that is the spiritual leader of the nation, as a people of a state would propose a toast to the health of the king or a substitute.35 In the rebuilding of churches in Constantinople we see not just the church as a substitute for statehood, but also the role of the amiras – who were the patrons (and even the role of the architect, in the case of Karapet Balyan) – conflated. Karapet and other amiras rebuilt a large number of churches in the 1830s and 1840s. As it was difficult to obtain permission to rebuild churches (and new churches, in theory, could not be built), the number of churches, as well as their lavish decoration and incorporation of domes for the first time, shows the special status of Karapet and the amiras. The privilege of being allowed to build a new church (and thus rise above the status determined by the Pact of ‘Umar) could be obtained through a bribe.36 The architectural and decorative content of the rebuilt churches shows the deliberate cultivation of a new communal identity that was not proto-national, but linked to dynastic and religious identity.37 This was connected to the role of the Church as both the socio-communal and political foci of the Armenian community of the Ottoman Empire and to the role of Karapet Balyan as amira and Imperial Architect. In order to appreciate the new image of these rebuilt churches of the 1830s and 1840s, a narration of historic models would be helpful. The Medieval Models of Armenian Architecture and Decoration The architecture of the Armenian– Ottoman rebuilt churches stands in stark contrast to the majority of churches within Armenia and the diasporan communities both before and after the nineteenth century. These churches in Armenia and the diaspora tended to follow medieval Armenian models, namely the mother church of Etchmiadzin or other early churches such as the seventh-century churches of Surp Hripsime and Zvartnots (both close to Etchmiadzin), and the tenth- to eleventhcentury Cathedral of Ani near Kars. Many of these models are domed, whether domed basilicas like the Ani Cathedral, domed circular (tetra-conch) churches like Zvartnots, domed radiating-type as at Surp Hripsime, or a domed square (with niches and buttressing) as at Etchmiadzin. Christina Maranci argues that an unchanging image of Armenian churches has been emphasized since the time of Jozef Strzygowski (1862– 1941): ‘At the core of Strzygowski’s theories is the centrally planned, domed form. This, for him, was the Urform [original form] of Armenian architectural developments.’38 The domed Aryan form, which came from Iran, was regarded as a racial phenomenon distinct from the architecture of the Mediterranean or the Jewish people. The focus on this conical dome structure as a symbol of Armenian identity has meant that the syncretic nature (wherein syncretic means the ability to fuse or blend different styles) of Armenian architecture, adapting to various neighbouring architectures over time, has been ignored. Although there was always a tendency to look back at medieval styles – such as the Cathedral of the Holy Cross (915 –21) at Akhtamar in Lake Van, which follows the Surp Hripsime model – the conical Urform was used with increasing frequency during
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the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The Paris Armenian Church of St John the Baptist (built 1902), Armenian tombs in Pe`re Lachaise dating from the 1930s, as well as more recent examples in the US, Lebanon and Armenia, in particular, the Yerevan Cathedral of Gregory the Illuminator (2001), are examples of Urform.39 Churches built in the diaspora had historically shown dramatic departures from the medieval Armenian Urform in their chosen external decorative styles, for instance the neoclassical-style Church of the Virgin Mary in Chennai/Madras (built 1712, rebuilt 1772) and the Persian Safavid-style Cathedral of New Julfa (1606). Yet, most diaspora churches are domed and centrally planned. Therefore, as Adriano Alpago Novello writes, the effect of the interior space remains unchanged: It is true that the Armenians’ sacred buildings were often influenced by their contact with various dominating cultures (or ancient models), but this occurred merely in superficial aspects such as decoration and the facade. The Armenian Church made sure that the layout of its most significant part – the presbytery and the altar – remained quite the same everywhere.40 Armenian sources suggest that the churches from the Ottoman period were constructed of wood and brick, and rebuilt in stone in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries (having been destroyed by fire).41 They were of a basilica plan, following earlier Byzantine churches on the same sites. For instance, the Kumkapı Church incorporates a basilica-plan Byzantine structure. The basilica was frequently used in Armenian architecture. Because it was not the Urform of a conical-domed centrally planned structure it has been underemphasized in the scholarship. The conical-domed structure was not seen in Constantinople except for the pre-Ottoman church of Surp Krikor Lusavoric of Karako¨y.42 Most of the structures rebuilt in the 1830s and 1840s were large basilica-type ¨ sku¨dar and Surp Asdvadzadzin in Kumkapı. The churches, such as Surp Hac in U majority of the churches were not altered because the Ottoman state oversaw the rebuilding works and issued documentation that always included the formula that repairs must follow the old manner and style (vaz-ı kadim ve hey’eti asliyesi u¨zere) and this should not be changed or exceeded (bir karıs¸ ve bir parmak tecavu¨z etmemek ¸sartile). The documentation giving permission for rebuilding Surp Hac Church (c.1829) includes not only these conditions in textual form but also a plan that demarcates roofing systems, doors and columns, showing the high degree of state involvement.43 Despite this need to placate the Ottoman bureaucracy, these churches incorporate several small planning innovations; for instance, the kavit (narthex or lobby at the entrance of the church), which, like the son cemaat yeri (space for latecomers) of Tanzimat-period mosques, was increasingly furnished. The churches have lateral rooms to the side of the apse, which correspond to the imperial loggias of the mosques. These churches are well lit, with large Palladian (round-arched) or wheel windows, also like the Tanzimat mosques. These variations show how the rebuilt churches were specific to their time and locality.
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There are two churches that were certainly major departures from earlier structures and do not have a basilica plan: the Bes¸iktas¸ Surp Asdvadzadzin Church (rebuilt in 1838 by Karapet Balyan) and the Kuzguncuk Surp Krikor Lusavoric Church (built in 1835 by Ohannes Serveryan,44 rebuilt in 1861 by Serveryan’s son).45 These churches were constructed with a cruciform plan that was topped by a dome. This cruciform type is not alien to Armenian architecture: cruciform plans, as well as archaic and, later, domed halls, such as those at Marmashen, Ani and Kecharis, which have a resemblance to the Bes¸iktas¸ structure, already existed.46 Pars Tug˘lacı, without reference to any documentation, states that the sultan gave special permission (by imperial decree) to Karapet Balyan to allow the church that he constructed in Bes¸iktas¸ to be domed.47 However, this dome was not visible from the exterior of the church, only from the inside – it was hidden by a gabled roof. Since being granted permission to build a dome was a personal privilege given by the sultan, Karapet Balyan seems to have shown an awareness of this personal nature of his status through the construction of the dome. It was not a show of status to the outside world (as domes such as that of the Su¨leymaniye Mosque had been) but was a special status that only Karapet and his congregation could enjoy. Elmon Hancer draws attention to the use of domes as a ‘new typology’ of Tanzimatperiod churches. She states that the inclusion of a dome is ‘a reference to Armenian architecture’, but at the same time notices that the Kuzguncuk dome is ‘a dome structure reminiscent of a blind Ottoman dome’ and ‘it is the only example of its kind among Istanbul Armenian churches’.48 Therefore, this ‘new typology’ of Hancer was, in fact, an anomaly. The same structure that Hancer refers to as the ‘blind Ottoman dome’ can be seen on the Surp Hac Church of the Mekhitarists in Venice, implying that it was not as locally attuned as she implies. More significantly, the same type of dome, concealed from the outside, is seen on imperial works, such as the Audience Hall of the Dolmabahce Palace, showing how the Balyans used rebuilding these churches to formulate their architectural solutions. These domes were not just a typology for Armenian churches, although the total effect of the architecture and decoration of these churches was specific to Armenian– Ottomans in Constantinople at this time and was quite distinct from historic models. Armenian churches are often presumed to be iconoclastic: that is, not to include images of human or animal figures or icons.49 Although depictions of humans and animals are seen in many examples of historic Armenian architecture, they became prevalent and naturalistic in style in the works of diasporan communities, such as the paintings in the Cathedral of New Julfa that look to Flemish models.50 The decoration of the rebuilt churches of Constantinople shows the increased importance of paintings and icons, as well as items of furniture (chandeliers, chairs, cupboards, balustrades, grilles, for instance). Coordinated schemes of interior decoration are prominent, something that had not been seen before. State regulations on the appearance of churches, limited funds and the impermanence of the wooden structures were reason for the previous lack of decoration and furnishings. There is the
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sense that Karapet and his fellow amiras used the opportunity of the rebuilds of the 1830s and 1840s to create a new material identity for the community. The decoration in the rebuilt churches consists of painted and gilded relief stucco depicting neoclassical, empire and, above all, Renaissance motifs, such as coffering, egg-and-dart, dentil, acanthus, Ionic capitals, floral bouquets, wreaths, stars, vine leaves, grapes, wheat and rosettes. These are painted in bright colours, such as yellow, white and blue, reminiscent of Renaissance stuccoed interiors.51 Marchese and Breu describe how motifs used to decorate the textiles of the period were associated with a pre-Christian repertoire (seen in Armenian folk arts) of flowers, leaves, vines, clusters of grapes, wheat and trees. The motifs are reminiscent of ‘the world as garden’ in Armenian art.52 They also reflect the Armenian tradition of the Church as the Garden of Eden. Water, fruit, roses and other vegetation are invoked in Armenian oral traditions and poetry celebrating fertility (and resurrection), and represented as ornament on art and architecture.53 Combined with the religious motifs seen alongside them, wheat and grapes in the Bes¸iktas¸ Church came to signify the Body and Blood of Christ. Floral motifs, such as the rose and lily, are associated with the Mother of God. Such motifs, when surrounding those referring to Christ, are viewed ‘as a reminder of His Mother’s sorrow’.54 These symbolic floral and vegetal motifs are repeated not only in the decoration scheme and on textiles, but also on furniture and other items, such as candlesticks. Painted portraiture was included on an unprecedented scale. In addition to the set of the Apostles in the Bes¸iktas¸ Church, there are roundels in the pendentives with portraits of the Apostles and a roundel of Christ in the dome, surrounded by stars. Large paintings line the walls of the Galata Church and painted portraits can be seen in Surp Hac U¨sku¨dar and Surp Krikor Lusavoric in Kuzguncuk. Explicitly religious motifs are also used. For instance, in the Bes¸iktas¸ Church, there are ladders in the cluster of motifs on the arch supporting the apse dome. These are a part of the arma Christi, which is the Cross surrounded by the elements of Christ’s Passion: the Cross with scroll, spear, sponge, reed, ladder, flail, bowl, ewer, cloth, tong, hammer, nails (axis mundi or bewer ashkharli), fetters and a rooster on a column. These symbols tell the story of the Crucifixion. They can be seen in a number of churches from this period, most strikingly in the Easter structure in the Kumkapı Surp Asdvadzadzin Church. The arma Christi is commonly seen in illuminated manuscripts, and used in nineteenth-century Armenian– Ottoman textiles where it forms a new element to the iconography of the Divine that was formalized at the time.55 In the Galata Church, not only is the Lamb of God seen above the side altars, but the symbol of the Holy Ghost (a dove within a triangle formed by six-pointed stars within rings) can be seen above a casement window, as well as a halo embellished with a bunch of grapes, flowers and sunrays.56 The Lamb of God, or Agnus Dei, is an allegorical reference to Christ’s sacrifice through the example of Abraham’s sacrifice, and became a common component of Armenian iconography, seen also in textiles of the nineteenth century.57
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In addition, the Bes¸iktas¸ Church contains an unprecedented and striking usage of isolated Armenian letters within the decoration scheme of its dome. Sunrays or sunbursts became increasingly prominent in the churches of the capital and can be seen in bigger and bolder forms as time progressed. In the Bes¸iktas¸ Church, sunrays crown the Armenian letters, evoking their holiness. As Marchese and Breu point out: Alternative methods of depicting the incorporeal Father appear in the form of a triangle above Christ enthroned, the monogram or name of God, a figurative image of God featuring a triangular ‘halo’, in symbolic form of eye and triangle, or, in the most common method, by an emblazoned sunburst as the dominant symbolic element in a composition.58 Rebuilt Churches, their Imagery of ‘The Dynastic Realm’ and ‘The Religious Community’ The distinctive decoration of these rebuilt churches in Constantinople is a merging of qualities of ‘the religious community’ and ‘the dynastic realm’. The decorative schemes express the power and identity of the amiras over the Armenian community. This was following the long-established practice of patrons from the Ottoman– Muslim ruling elite endowing mosques.59 Yet the interiors of these churches also show the promotion of the Church as the Armenian community’s focus of its identity. The two messages, the power of the amiras and that of the Church, are communicated by the use of various symbols, most notably the use of Armenian letters. Because of the significance of Armenian, Armenian letters and script identify the churches as part of a sacral culture: the script divinely revealed to St Mesrop Mastoc. . . The Armenian alphabet, though based largely on Aramaic, is imbued with Christian symbolism. . . so the final, thirty-sixth, letter of the Armenian alphabet (K’), is based on the cross-like shape and phonetic value of the Greek letter (chi), but with a circle added to the top to represent the Chi-Rho combination, called the Chrismon, which is an abbreviation of Christ’s name. So Christ is, quite literally, the Omega of Armenian.60 Generally, in Armenian churches the Armenian alphabet is used in inscriptions. These inscriptions can adorn the inside and outside of the church. In the Surp Asdvadzadzin Church in Bes¸iktas¸, Armenian letters are depicted in isolated form in the dome. These letters are framed in wreaths, creating an image of dynastic power. This is because these striking letters displayed in the dome resemble the tug˘ra (monogram) of the sultan, most notably those tug˘ras in wreaths adorning commemoration stones, such as those for the dams in the Belgrade Forest. That Karapet was using the same techniques for representing the sovereign power of Mahmud II and Abdu¨lmecid in the church reflects his view of the order of society, that is the sultan, under whom resided the institution of the Church and Patriarch – and himself as defender.
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Additional expressions of dynastic culture are seen in other aspects of the decoration of the Surp Asdvadzadzin Church in Bes¸iktas¸; in particular, the full-size portrait of Karapet Balyan in which he, as the architect and patron, stands beside his plan of the church, holding his architects’ seal in his hand. This is a nineteenth-century version of Armenian churches’ tradition of displaying presentation portraits, which depict the patron and architect next to a model of their church, although in this case Karapet holds both roles.61 Karapet is depicted in pious clothing – the black robes of a priest – but also wears his red fez, showing his status as a religious man, Ottoman subject and servant of the sultan. He is portrayed as a leader of the community, but his identity is conflated with that of the state and the Church. These churches were intended, above all, to cement the traditional identity and structures of the Empire. Their decoration stressed the Empire’s dynastic organization through the use of symbolic motifs such as holy Armenian letters displayed in crests. Through his choice of Renaissance-influenced decoration, Karapet Balyan, as architect and patron of this artistic revival (seen in the churches) was repackaging this dynastic order and emphasizing his own role at its centre. The amiras believed that Armenian identity must remain rooted to the Church and they saw the Ottoman sultan and state as protectors of this order. As Deroyentz, spokesman of the amiras, wrote: It has been discussed, and it is undeniable that our people do not have, politically speaking, a national [institution]. . . but we do have an alternative through which our people will survive. The governments ruling over us have been protectors of this [alternative] institution and nucleus of union; to preserve our ethnic identity we do not need a political one. This link is the unity of religion through which all Armenians are related regardless of their place of residence or the state of which they are subjects.62 The rebuilt churches show an increasing belief in this message (of the Church and amiras as centre of modern Armenian identity) from the 1830s and 1840s. More and more elaborately decorated, they reflect the expansion of power and wealth of the amiras and their use of church-rebuilding to protect their own spheres of influence. ¨ sku¨dar Churches Rebuilt in the Early 1830s: Surp Hac U and Surp Yerrortutyun Galata The earliest churches to be rebuilt by the amiras, with the exception of the Patriarchate Church in Kumkapı, contain little ornamentation. For example, Surp Hac in U¨sku¨dar/ Icadiye, rebuilt in 1830,63 is a large structure containing only a few elements of decoration, such as a baptismal font carved with ornament. That a detailed plan of the church was issued by the authorities shows how the design of such projects was still under considerable state supervision in 1830. Churches rebuilt later show some planning and decorative elaborations indicating that the state control was lessened. The Surp Yerrortutyun Church in Galata, rebuilt in 1836,64 has much bolder decoration, including stucco ornament, inscriptions and large
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portraiture panels that line the nave. The structure of the church is a basilica, yet this is much wider than its predecessors, which gives it the more sophisticated spatial feel of Renaissance architecture. In addition, the rustic outlining of the stone layers on the exterior also reflects the influence of Renaissance architectural decoration, following the model of the Palazzo Farnese.65 The most striking element of the facade is the wheel-shaped window that emits much light into the nave, which could be following either Palladian usage of such shapes or even contemporary French structures such as Gare de L’Est. An overall Italian influence is most likely in this instance given the Renaissance references of the interior and exterior. The plan for Surp Yerrortutyun includes rooms to each side of the apse, and a large kavit space at the entrance, as did plans for the other rebuilt churches. The barrelvaulted roof is higher than the earlier structures and the walls taller, so that there is space at the rear for a gallery. This style is seen in churches built later, where the kavit takes on the form of a self-enclosed space. In the interior, there are the beginnings of a coordinated decorative scheme, incorporating a pool of motifs from neoclassical, empire and, predominantly, Renaissance repertoires. The painted and gilded coffering containing stars within the apse semi-dome is a particularly bold element of the decoration. The white stucco architrave and piers with composite capitals and arches that line the nave also dominate the interior. Acanthus leaves and rosettes are used frequently in the decoration scheme. Above the altars are sunrays, like those above the tug˘ra in imperial works. There are Palladian arched niches enclosing the side altars and above the windows. Decorative iron grilles at the entrance to the nave also incorporate a Palladian arch. Gilt-brass chandeliers and carved wooden balustrades add to the impression of the church being fully and luxuriously furnished. A common selection of Renaissance motifs seen in the church (ribbons, garlands, acanthus, grapes, for instance) were not only used on subsequent churches, but also on the mosques and palaces. Even larger decorative elements, such as the wheel windows, decorative iron grilles, chandeliers and furniture, can be seen in these mosques and palaces. Therefore, these churches and their increasingly expressive architecture and decoration can be viewed as an important arena for Karapet to experiment with (what would become) the imperial style of the 1840s and 1850s. The Bes¸iktas¸ Church of Surp Asdvadzadzin (1838) Surp Asdvadzadzin in Bes¸iktas¸ was of special importance to the Balyan family. The Armenian inscription identifies ‘Karapet Amira Balyan, Imperial Architect’ as responsible for the church’s rebuilding in 1838. The church is situated in the neighbourhood where Karapet is known to have lived. Serkis Balyan established a school next door in 1866 in the name of his deceased wife Makruhi,66 and a vakıf in ¨ sku¨dar was attached to the church.67 U The Bes¸iktas¸ Church is of a cruciform plan with a dome hidden by a gable. It rests on a square base, supported by pendentives and with barrel-vaulted arches to the side.
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Figure 1 Surp Asdvadzadzin Church (1838), Bes¸iktas¸, Istanbul. Exterior facade of church viewed from street.
An apse is preceded by a victory arch. Similar structures are seen in the Kuzguncuk Church. The combination of an apse with a room to each side and a kavit topped by a gallery and enclosed from the nave by an iron grille can also be seen in the Galata Church, the Kuzguncuk Church, and other churches rebuilt by Karapet, such as the Kuruces¸me Holy Cross/Surp Hac (1834). The facade of the Bes¸iktas¸ Church is relatively plain (Fig. 1). Aygu¨l Ag˘ır asserts that the influence of Palladio can be seen68 and, indeed, it can be likened to churches such as San Francesco della Vigna in Venice, which has a similar gable front with vertical facade and central tripartite window. As noted above, the Galata Church has a Palladian-influenced window. Yet, the Bes¸iktas¸ Church is not monumental in scale like these Palladian works but lies hidden behind a wall. That a similar facade can be seen in the Kuzguncuk Church and that this is depicted in the state-issued drawings for the rebuilding suggest that this type of window was not deliberately created to follow Palladian examples, but rather the priority was to be unassuming and to give the impression of austerity from the outside. In contrast to the plain facade, the interior decoration is extravagant. It consists of painted and gilded stucco. The motifs are largely of a neoclassical idiom, including egg-and-dart, dentil and Ionic columns and capitals. The stucco entablature with columns and Ionic capitals is also seen in the Galata and Kuruces¸me churches.
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Stucco ornament was the signature of these rebuilt churches. It was combined with other ostentatious decorative elements such as carved wooden balustrades, carved and gilded altarpieces, iron grilles, chairs, candlesticks and chandeliers. This formula was repeated at Galata, Kuruces¸me, Bakırko¨y and elsewhere. The Bes¸iktas¸ Church differentiates itself from these other examples because its decoration includes stronger Renaissance influence. This is seen in motifs, including crests, garlands, rosettes, sunrays as well as sunrays arising from stones, flowers and wheat, all moulded in an expressive style. The overall effect of the coloured stucco of the interior of the Bes¸iktas¸ Church is, in fact, very close to Renaissance examples. The extent of the decoration at Bes¸iktas¸ is also much greater than in the previous churches, with not only the apse semi-dome (Plate 1), but also the main dome, arches, pendentives and walls (all available spaces), covered with stucco. The spaces that are not adorned – the side walls up to dado level – are hung with the paintings of the Apostles. The pendentives and the apex of the dome are decorated with further medallion portraits of the Apostles and Christ. Large crosses depicted on the barrel vaults of the arches and the cluster of motifs symbolising the Crucifixion on the arch of the apse are religious motifs. Images of wheat and floral bunches are symbolic of the Body of Christ and the Mother of God. The Armenian inscription on the arch of the apse and the holy letters in the dome show that this is not just a Christian church, but also an Armenian one. But despite this reference to Armenian identity, there are no proto-national elements, such as paintings of Armenia or of historical episodes or figures. The interior is neatly coordinated. Motifs depicted in the stucco decoration are repeated on the furniture, such as the altarpiece, and in the marble carving in the side rooms, giving the impression that this scheme was planned and coordinated to emphasize certain motifs and a particular style. Many of these motifs are also seen on the Galata Church and on the subsequent imperial mosques and palaces, showing, as mentioned above, how the decoration of the Bes¸iktas¸ Church, as well as the other churches of the 1830s, had a strong influence over the imperial style. For instance the garlands carved in marble in front of the altar (Plate 1) can be seen on the marble steps of the seaside facade of the Dolmabahce Palace (Fig. 14) and in the Hırka-i S¸erif Mosque minber (Plate 24). Indeed, it is an important characteristic of the Bes¸iktas¸ Church that its decoration closely resembles the mausoleum of Mahmud II built around 1839. In the dome of the Armenian church (Plate 2), there are dynastic motifs that consist of wreaths containing the holy Armenian letters with sunrays issuing out of them. The design used for the tug˘ra of the sultan has been manipulated to include Armenian letters instead. There are also medallions containing religious portraits, and Christ is placed in the centre of the dome. In the mausoleum, the same wreaths, garlands and sunrays of the dome are arranged into clusters of imperial pomp, with some Islamic content in the calligraphic medallions. The ornamental content is almost identical on the side walls of the church (Fig. 2) and the mausoleum (Fig. 3). Even similar symbolic motifs can be seen, such as the stones with sunrays in the church and roses with sunrays in the mausoleum.
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Figure 2 Surp Asdvadzadzin Church (1838), Bes¸iktas¸, Istanbul. Interior, view of stucco ornament on side wall.
Figure 3 Mausoleum of Mahmud II (1839 – 41), C¸emberlitas¸, Istanbul. Interior, view of stucco ornament on side wall.
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A further significance of the Bes¸iktas¸ Church is that it contains, in addition to a number of icons including one from the Mekhitarists (which also point to the influence of Italy on this church), a large number of paintings that were specifically painted by Umed Behzad at the time of its rebuilding. Although the other churches included paintings, and on a scale not previously seen in Constantinople, the Bes¸iktas¸ Church is the most extravagant example: filled with full-length portraits of the Apostles, in Umed Behzad’s distinctive style. Constantinopolitan Armenian– Ottoman Church Architecture These churches of the 1830s show a distinct mid-nineteenth-century Armenian church architecture and decoration that is most obvious in the Bes¸iktas¸ Church. This new material identity’s significance is suggested by Alboyadjian, who states that although Arakel Dadyan Amira was a pious man who said his prayers morning and night and went to Sunday mass, he built several churches because of a ‘love for the nation’. As a consequence, the amiras combated the incursions of foreign missionaries and managed to retain an Armenian intellectual class with the motto Hors l’Eglise Arme´nienne point de salut (There is no salvation outside of the Armenian Church).69 Thus, the amiras’ rebuilding of churches at this time can be seen as a patriotic activity, and in the service of the survival of a locally rooted Armenian community ingrained in the church and the amiras’ power as leaders. The churches show the selective use of European elements in an effort to modernize local identity. Yet, the combination of this European-style decoration with the local plan types, the plain facades and the striking use of Armenian letters displayed in dynastic crests suggests that it was also a defence of local identity and local hierarchies. It was certainly not a monolithic movement towards Westernization. Likewise, although in some cases an attempt can be seen to incorporate motifs and iconography specific to Armenian Christianity, there is no reference to national identity. Therefore, it was certainly not a proto-national style. Instead, the rebuilding of these churches in this selectively modern style was intended to strengthen the role of the Church, the Patriarchate and the amiras: the existing hierarchy within the Ottoman Empire. Reinforcing this order would help the amiras retain their power in the face of both internal and external threats (such as missionaries).70 Churches in the provinces, with the exception of cosmopolitan port cities like Izmir, tended to incorporate local building materials, methods and styles. Interior decoration sometimes followed the Constantinopolitan fashions, such as in Surp Krikor Lusavoric Church in Kayseri rebuilt in 1859, which includes decoration related to the churches of the 1830s and the imperial mosques of the 1850s such as a trompe l’œil dome and heraldic motifs. A cathedral built by Serkis Balyan in Gaziantep in 189271 referred to the local material identity of Antep through its striped masonry, but also included elements of Serkis’s 1860s and 1870s imperial works, such as Gothic windows, to give it a revivalist feeling.
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Karapet Balyan’s Role as Imperial Architect and the Availability of Materials and Craftsmen When an Armenian Imperial Architect attained power, more churches were rebuilt. Imperial architects used their imperial connections and their networks within the building sector to enable their church projects. For example, Sarraf Sarkis Hovhannesyan, an Armenian– Ottoman contemporary historian, writes (c.1800) about Surp Hres¸dagabed in Balat rebuilt in 1730 by Arabog˘lu Melidon Kalfa, saying that it was striking in its appearance, it was three storeys high and in a fancier style than what had come before.72 Hovhannesyan adds that during the time of Mahmud I, as churches were built at the same time as additions to the Topkapı Palace, materials surplus to requirements for the palace were made available to other building projects, including iron door panels that were incorporated into the Balat Church.73 Therefore, in practical terms, the lavishness of the interior decoration of the Bes¸iktas¸ Church can be explained by Karapet Balyan’s status as Imperial Architect and his ability to use various resources. This also explains the close relationship of the decoration of the Bes¸iktas¸ Church and that of the mausoleum of Mahmud II. An additional resemblance between Karapet’s communal and imperial works is that the Armas¸ Monastery74 had wheel-shaped windows like those of the Dolmabahce Mosque. The reuse of elements shows the common teams, materials and techniques on imperial works and works for the Armenian community. Nevertheless, it also shows a common meaning. Both churches and imperial works were united in the aim of communicating a revised identity through the use of decoration and symbols of sovereignty. These visions of the identity of the state and of the Armenians were not viewed to be separate – hence the overlap in official style and the style used privately by Karapet and the other amiras. The use of a common pool of decorative techniques and motifs on imperial works and Armenian churches can be seen as an endorsement both of the Ottoman order and Karapet Balyan’s perception of his own role. Studies on the Armenian architecture in New Julfa assert that the churches are ‘architectonically indistinguishable from contemporary mosques in Isfahan’, which shows the integration and acculturation of the Armenian merchants into the Safavid imperial household.75 Even their private mansions mimic aspects of the royal buildings, reflecting these Armenians’ politicocultural assimilation.76 Amy Landau identifies the farangi-sazi (European style) first used in the Church of Holy Bethlehem in New Julfa and subsequently in the Chihil Sutun Palace in Isfahan, and pinpoints the Armenian artists Minas and Astuacatur as being responsible for the mediation of the occidental style and its transmission from Armenian to imperial Safavid works.77 Lynn Jones argues that the use of Islamic iconography, from Abbasid models in Samara and Baghdad, in the relief carving of the Armenian Cathedral at Akhtamar shows the Bagratid (the Armenian dynasty who ruled over the Lake Van region) royal Gagik’s power through the adoption of Islamic courtly iconography. Gagik is identified wearing Islamic costume, which ‘displays the source of his authority and asserts his legitimacy’.78 Therefore, it can be stated that the use of the identical
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decorative overlay on the Bes¸iktas¸ Church and on the Mausoleum of Mahmud II (as well as the reuse of other motifs and structures across various building types) shows how Karapet used his status as an Ottoman architect to display his own power as amira. In more practical terms, but geared towards the same end, the rebuilding of these churches represents the collection of social capital by Karapet Balyan to further his professional interests. Social Capital79 and Rebuilding Churches The Balyans rebuilt churches in regions that had a particular importance to the family: in ¨ sku¨dar), Kuruces¸me and Bes¸iktas¸, where they had lived and owned property. I˙cadiye (in U However, they also rebuilt churches for populations of Armenians that were involved in their imperial building works. The building accounts from their construction works, addressed in Chapter 6 in this book, show that the majority of the craftsmen the Balyans worked with were Armenian and that their suppliers were from local areas of Constantinople, especially Galata and Bes¸iktas¸. Thus, the rebuilding of these churches can be understood as the Balyans both thanking these workers and securing their future loyalty. Rebuilding churches and other acts of benevolence were expected behaviour for a wealthy leader and have precedents within other Armenian communities.80 These acts reinforced an already-existing hierarchy. In turn, the members of the community showed the leader their respect and supported his endeavours. One pamphlet produced by the Mekhitarists in Vienna, first printed in 1849 and reprinted in 1861, confirms this view of the society. For those who have wealth and power, ‘true patriotism’ involves helping the less fortunate, respecting the law by not being whimsical, donating funds for the construction of public institutions, and not forgetting that wealth does not release one from the duties and obligations of ‘good citizenship’. [Those without money, in turn] must respect the above-mentioned [rich] Armenians and honour them as interpreters and executors of the law, as the lieutenants of God. [The lower classes] must have faith in them and must not nurture doubts without good reason. If they note any shortcomings in the upper class, they should not consider them unjust and evil or demean their names in the presence of others. Rather, to the best of their ability, they should cover up for the others’ shortcomings and should praise them publicly.81 Within this schema, church-rebuilding projects not only were an expression of the identity of the amiras and their vision of the revised identity of the community and their place within this, but also reinforced the (already-present) notion that they should be respected, obeyed and even helped in their business. Church-rebuilding undertaken by the Dadyan family, who were in charge of various imperial factories, clearly shows this philanthropic activity and its connection to their professional lives. Ubicini states that ‘the little church of San Stefano, two leagues from
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Constantinople, [was] erected at his own residence for the use of the workmen, by M. Boghos-Dadyan, director of the imperial powder mills’.82 As the work of Barsoumian, mentioned in Chapter 1, found that the Dadyans employed Armenians at all levels in their factories, their building of churches can be understood as a contribution to sustaining their monopoly over Ottoman industrialization projects. As this chapter has suggested, Karapet Balyan engaged in similar strategies to control imperial building works. The significance of the image-making undertaken by the amiras through rebuilding churches was noticed by Marie Sevadjian, who wrote in her 1907 novel L’Amira (on He´rotik Amira): ‘Dans le peuple on disait de lui “c’est le roi des Arme´niens”.’83 The effects of the sociocultural activities carried out by amiras such as Karapet Balyan were palpable at the time. The encouragement that Karapet gave to Armenian culture during these years meant that by the height of his career he not only had a large team of Armenian painters, decorators and sculptors trained in European techniques, but he also had secured the loyalty of an army of Armenian suppliers and labourers from the guilds and who were encouraged to work for him due to his pious works. Karapet was well aware of the need for legitimacy structures that he incorporated into his imperial works: he modernized material identity, but at the same time rooted it in the locality. This legitimacy supported his dominant role over the community of workers who he employed on his building works. It was also necessary to sustain the amiras’ control of the local community (and its resources) in the face of the threat of foreign missionary activity. Therefore, although Karapet mobilized Armenian cultural expression in the 1830s, this was not intended to develop into a separate identity, but was created to reinforce the order of the Ottoman Empire.
CHAPTER 4 THE BALYAN FAMILY, PARIS AND THE BIRTH OF THE ARMENIAN—OTTOMAN ROMANTIC ERA
The wealthy classes, owing to the insufficiency of the Armenian schools at Constantinople, have been accustomed of late to send their sons abroad, and principally to Paris, for education, but the experiment has not succeeded better with these young men, left to themselves in a large capital, without guidance or restriction, than the young Ottoman students placed in a similar position, and, with very few exceptions, the result has been unfortunate.1 Over the course of the nineteenth century, young Armenians (the sons of the amiras) were increasingly sent to Paris for their education.2 Earlier, Armenians were educated in the Mekhitarist institutions in Italy.3 An Armenian school was established in Paris, in the form of the Muradian College, but most Armenians attended the city’s prestigious prep schools, and then moved on to the grandes e´coles. As the above quotation shows, contemporary observers viewed the European tutelage of these Oriental pupils with condescension. Subsequent critics also suggest that the influence of a European education led to the copying of alafranga fashions and prevented any authentic cultural development, instead leading to the ‘superwesternization’ of Ottoman life.4 Scholars within Armenian studies concentrate on charting the emergence of political and literary movements inspired by European thought: the period of 1840 to 1890 is considered by Oshagan,5 Hacikyan et al.,6 as well as Zekiyan, as the Zartonk (Awakening), which consisted of intellectual revival, romanticism, and then realism from the 1880s.7 The assumption is that these young Armenian pupils were thoroughly changed by their experience in revolutionary Paris. Nigog˘os, Serkis and Agop Balyan travelled to Paris in the 1840s and 1850s, where they acquired new ideas, which they then applied within the Ottoman Empire. In their architectural works for sultans Abdu¨lmecid and Abdu¨laziz, they reformulated the Ottoman imperial image by means of then-current notions about using decoration to
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revive identity and communicate meaning. However, these sons of Karapet were also politically and socially engaged individuals involved in the implementation of other European innovations to improve livelihoods in the Empire. ‘Avant-garde’ was a term that came from warfare and was applied to artistic practice around 1825. It was used to refer to an artistic visionary ‘critical of the status quo and preparing for a better future’. This artistic visionary advocated working with the new elites of scientists and industrialists.8 The term has been used ever since to describe ‘an organized grouping with a self-conscious, radical, collective project of overturning current orthodoxies in art and replacing them with new, critical practices often directly engaged with the contemporary world’ and has recently been used to describe groups previously regarded as conservative.9 This chapter, following this lead, shows how members of the Balyan family were part of a self-conscious collective, educated in Paris in the 1840s, responsible for completely changing the Ottoman approach to decoration. Although the Romantics are associated with the rise of nationalism and the rejection of the rationalism of the Enlightenment, their views were quite nuanced, as John Morrow suggests: ‘These writers were all preoccupied with the epistemological and moral importance of feeling and imagination; they developed a distinctive notion of the individual; and they stressed ideas of community.’10 This chapter explores how members of the Balyan family held many of these qualities of the Romantics.
Evidence of a European Education? Tug˘lacı, Pamukciyan and Bog˘osyan all mention Nigog˘os, Serkis and Agop studying architecture at the Sainte-Barbe,11 and Serkis studying at the Beaux-Arts and E´cole Centrale.12 Turkish art historian Aygu¨l Ag˘ır attempted to find documentation concerning their education in Paris and instead, through drawing attention to the fact that the Sainte-Barbe was a prep school, suggested that the Balyans did not receive any formal training there.13 Armenian sources document Nigog˘os’s stay in Paris and attendance at educational institutions. Nigog˘os’s obituary in Masis states that he left for Paris after the death of his mother.14 Ars¸aluys Araradyan, an Armenian newspaper (1842), the most reliable account (from the same year as the events, not a later retelling), mentions that Ohannes Bey Dadyan and Hac adur Bardızbanıyan left Izmir on the Sesostris boat with Nigog˘os Balyan and other students.15 The Masis obituary notes that Nigog˘os returned home in 1845, although the Armenian newspaper Hayasdan gives the date as 13 July 1846.16 The almanac of Teotik tells that, in 1848, Serkis was sent to Paris as one of Bardızbanıyan’s (and also Hac adur Missakiyan’s) students. These students included ¨ tu¨cu¨yan, Apetik Nevruz, Doktor Moziyan, Andon17 and Serkis Balyan, Karapet U Doktor Horossancıyan and his brother Tovmas, Ohannes Tuysuziyan, and Karapet Gu¨mu¨s¸cu¨yan.18 Other Armenian sources state that Serkis travelled to Paris with Nigog˘os, but returned to Constantinople due to illness, although later going back to Paris to complete his education.19 Agop travelled to Paris later than his brothers and attended the Sainte-Barbe in 1855.20
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The only French document so far discovered concerning the stay of the Balyan family in Paris is in the Archives Nationales,21 and dated 24 October 1848. It states that on 8 September 1848, Serkis Balyan, who was at that time 17 years old, travelled to Paris by boat and applied to the Beaux-Arts. This evidence confirms his presence in Paris in 1848 but is not proof that he attended the Beaux-Arts, or any other institutions in the city. This chapter provides evidence that he did study in Paris.
The Sainte-Barbe and the Education of the Balyan Family In nineteenth-century France, debate raged over the merits of the classical training of the honneˆte homme (man of virtue) instead of a scientific education.22 Sainte-Barbe was a centre for humanistic learning with a long history of educating foreign nobility.23 In the nineteenth century it became important for its education of the Ottoman Empire’s elites. This importance outlasted that of the Mekteb-i Osmani (Ottoman School), which had been established in Paris with the intention of taking over this role.24 In the 1830s and 1840s, Alexandre Labrouste became director, rebuilt the college buildings and reformed the Sainte-Barbe. He possessed a unique degree of personal leverage and appointed teachers and employees ‘from the humblest up to the highest rank’.25 Labrouste selected M. Gue´rard as teacher of classics and hired influential men to teach philosophy, rhetoric, logic, mathematics, mechanics, physics and chemistry.26 The teachers’ publications show the school’s emphasis on classics.27 After 1835 the Sainte-Barbe expanded to teach professional preparatory classes for pupils who wished to attend the E´cole Polytechnique, the E´cole Centrale des Arts et Manufactures, E´cole Normale and E´cole Supe´rieure, and schools of Mines, the Navy, Forestry, and the Military School of Saint-Cyr. The establishment of the baccalaure´at in the early nineteenth century meant that a secondary-level education became essential before higher education and a professional career.28 Of a group of ten scholarship students sent to Paris in 1847 by the Ottoman state, three went to Sainte-Barbe:29 Vehbi Efendi from Ku¨tahya, Remzi from Amasya and Hilmi from Gerede.30 A large non-Muslim contingent included Edouard Blacque in 1837,31 Paul Ananyan in 1864,32 members of the Aristarki family in the 1860s33 and Manuk Azaryan in 1865.34 It is known that some Ottomans, for example Melik35 and Tahir in 1873, were sent to Sainte-Barbe for engineering training.36 Quicherat’s history of the Sainte-Barbe notes how, just as the college’s founding father Victor De Lanneau had promoted Greeks, Labrouste had ‘the Turks’ and the college had educated many subjects of the Ottoman government in recent years. The sultan showed his gratitude to Labrouste with an imperial ferman awarding the Nis¸an-ı Iftihar.37 That the director of the Sainte-Barbe was also given an imperial decoration in 1889 shows the extent of the institution’s importance to the Empire.38 Armenian– Ottomans at the Sainte-Barbe included future intellectuals such as Istepan Oskanyan,39 mixing alongside the sons of amiras. The diplomat Artin Dadyan is the most famous Ottoman student; he was present at the 1850 prize-giving.40 In 1862 he attended a banquet as First Secretary of the Ottoman Embassy.41 An Ottoman
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document from 1846 sheds light on the fact that Alexandre Labrouste was awarded the medal of Nis¸an-ı Ali by the sultan at the request of the Dadyan family.42 This manoeuvring indicates that the amiras held an important mediating role between the personalities and institutions of Paris and the Ottoman government. Armenian sources, such as Teotik, state that Karapet’s sons, Nigog˘os, Serkis and Agop, attended the Colle`ge Sainte-Barbe.43 Krikor Odian’s article in Meg˘u sheds more light on this education. It states that Hac adur Bardızbanıyan was in charge of Nigog˘os’s progress (he was a mathematician and may have served as tutor). Nigog˘os took his pre-education at Sainte-Barbe and then ‘followed to the architectural art’ (հետեւեցաւ ճարտարապետական արուեստին). Due to his good behaviour and hardworking character, Nigog˘os attracted the attention of the senior lecturers and Odian notes that ‘Baron Labrouste, the Head Master of the school, with great pride, remembers until today, his best-loved student’.44 The obituary in Masis records that in his teenage years Nigog˘os travelled to Paris and learned architecture with Hac adur Bardızbanıyan ‘by attending the classes of the French architect Baron Labrouste, who was the director of the “Imperial School of Fine Arts”’. Nigog˘os returned to Constantinople in 1845 and worked under the wing of his father as a palace architect.45 On Serkis, Ars¸aluys Araradyan states that he attended Sainte-Barbe in 1850.46 On Agop, Masis notes that he went to Sainte-Barbe in 1855.47 Although the assertions of these Armenian sources may be exaggerated, it is important to note that authors such as Krikor Odian and Karapet U¨tu¨cu¨yan (editor of Masis) had a thorough knowledge of contemporary Paris as well as being close to members of the Balyan family and were unlikely to have made major factual errors.48 In the student registers of the E´cole Pre´paratoire of the Sainte-Barbe (kept in the Archives de Paris),49 there is indeed one ‘Ballian’ in 1848– 9.50 He does not appear in any following years. It is only amidst the student dossiers that we can locate ‘Le´on Ballian’, the son of Nigog˘os, who was born in 1855. He was a student in 1869– 70 at the Fontenay campus, continuing to study at the college until 1874.51 The Balyan attending Sainte-Barbe in 1848– 9 must have been Serkis, who travelled to Paris in 1848 (Nigog˘os returned to Constantinople in 1845 or 1846). Since the student dossiers – and especially the registers – are very patchy for the 1840s, it is remarkable that pinpointing one member of the family is possible.52 The lack of documentation underlines the extreme instability of Paris during the time of revolution and cholera.53 Although they are sporadic, these records help to elucidate the Balyans’ educational experience: their syllabi, teachers and classmates, some of whom were Ottomans. In the 1848– 9 student registers (the same year as Serkis Balyan), a student named ‘Vahan’ appears.54 In 1850– 1 a student called ‘Dadian’ is listed in the registers,55 which confirms the (Dadyan) family connections with Sainte-Barbe.56 In the 1848– 9 register, a Labrouste appears, and the 1850 – 1 register includes Eiffel. The presence of such important figures in the history of architecture is unsurprising given the reputation of the Sainte-Barbe, and it reinforces the point that the Balyans were positioned at the very centre of the contemporary creative universe.
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From the class of 1848 – 9 many students went on to the most prestigious institutions in Paris, including the Centrale and the Polytechnique. Although Gustave Eiffel intended to move on to the Polytechnique, his grades were more suitable for admission to the Centrale.57 The Sainte-Barbe 1845 prospectus underscores that the school was increasingly catering for students heading for the grande e´coles, including many being coached for the Centrale or Beaux-Arts.58 Students could follow courses at colle`ges royaux (perhaps including the school of fine arts) as well as a range of preparatory, major and minor courses.59 The course on commerce holds some resemblance to Serkis’s proposal for an Ottoman school. It encompassed sciences, drawing classes, humanities, languages, commercial calculations, book-keeping, principles of compatibility, and commercial law.60 Another course focused on leisure arts (including musical instruction), also familiar from Serkis’s proposal. Serkis Balyan was enrolled in the E´cole Pre´paratoire in 1848– 9, which fed technical institutions including the E´cole Centrale. The 1845 prospectus boasts of ‘the force of the scientific education’, led by Labrouste and Blanchet (professor of the Polytechnique). Many teachers at the school were members of the Institut de France (created in 1795 to supervise public instruction in France through its five academies) and the Polytechnique. Among the staff was the specialist on differential geometry Pierre Ossian Bonnet, and the engineer Victor Fournie´.61 Courses for students such as Serkis intending to enter the Centrale, focused on elementary mathematics. This consisted of geometry, descriptive geometry, arithmetic, algebra and trigonometry.62 This was supplemented by superior algebra, theory of surfaces and differential calculus, French composition, Latin translation, history, geography, German and English as well as drawing and drawing with a wash or tint. The drawing course at Sainte-Barbe included sketching architectural structures,63 as well as the typical ‘cours de dessin’ rooted in the classical tradition of copying antique sculptures, old master drawings and then progressing to live-model drawing.64 The Sainte-Barbe employed accomplished teachers at the time of Serkis’s attendance including Alexandre Le Be´alle, who was author of several books on drawing technique and theory,65 and the painter Jules Ernest Panis who was teacher of Corot66 and friend of Tournachon,67 as well as the student of Henri Lehman.68 The Sainte-Barbe file on Le´on sheds further light on the Balyans’ connections with the artistic elites of Paris. Le´on’s guardians included Mm. Balyan, M. Donon (a relative of The´ophile Gautier),69 M. Bilezikciyan and M. Pascal.70 A letter dated 11 June 187371 stresses the importance of the Sainte-Barbe in providing initial training to the Balyans. In this, Bilezikciyan asks the director if Le´on can concentrate on particular courses, since he is ‘destined for a career as an architect’. He requests training in areas that are ‘indispensable for the art in question’, such as le dessin line´aire.
The Sainte-Barbe, the Labroustes and the Romantics The Director of the Sainte-Barbe 1838-66, Alexandre Labrouste, upheld the cult of Victor de Lanneau and the traditional appeal of Sainte-Barbe, but was also a politically
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engaged educationalist who founded new associations to aid the college.72 These activities might have influenced Nigog˘os’s involvement in educational reform upon his return to Constantinople. He became occupied with the establishment of the Educational Council, to improve the educational provision for Armenians in the Empire.73 Alexandre’s brother Henri Labrouste (1801– 75) attended Sainte-Barbe and the Beaux-Arts, ran his own atelier and was Professor of Architecture at the Beaux-Arts, 1831– 56.74 He may have been the figure Masis referred to as ‘director of the “Imperial School of Fine Arts”’.75 Henri Labrouste, along with Fe´lix Duban, Louis Duc and Le´on Vaudoyer, was part of the Romantic architecture movement.76 They advocated that the teaching of architecture should reflect society instead of adhering to ideal models.77 Their writings in the liberal press argued that architecture was a ‘dialectical progression’ that encompassed tradition and innovation, art and science, to produce the progress of civilization.78 They ‘understood polychromy as a clothing of a structural skeleton with objects, inscriptions, and scenes communicating the building’s social function and history’.79 Henri Labrouste and his cohorts were sympathetic to the July Revolution.80 His students paraded him through the streets on Bastille Day in 1848 and cheered at Victor Hugo’s plays. Hugo argued for a new national architecture, but asserted that the revival of one style or another would not be adequate.81 He suggested that Romanticism, an artistic revolution that started in poetry, music and painting, would move to architecture.82 Labrouste expressed Hugo’s theme of enlightenment in his Bibliothe`que Sainte-Genevie`ve, next-door to the Sainte-Barbe.83 In Meg˘u (1858), Krikor Odian states that Nigog˘os was responsible for works of ‘skill and refinement’, including the Audience Hall and Entrance Gates of Dolmabahc e Palace, Ortako¨y Mosque, Ihlamur Pavilion and Tophane Clock Tower.84 These are works that are characterized by the use of expressive ornament that was not seen on works of Ottoman architecture before this time. Sketches of the C¸ırag˘an Palace associated with the authorship of Nigog˘os show his experimental approach to design, applying different kinds of ornament to the facade.85 Odian sheds more light on Nigog˘os’s works through his statement that: ‘As a follower of the architectural school of revival/renaissance (վերածնութեան), he [Nigog˘os] fortunately got rid of artificial rules and superstitions. He brought a very clear horizon where his beautiful imagination could fly freely.’86 He adds: ‘This was a freedom, which was based on Rationalism that was introduced into the philosophy of Descartes and, in literature, by Victor Hugo, and which he encouraged to be introduced into our literature.’87 Odian repeats Victor Hugo’s account of the movement of the Romantic style from philosophy and literature to architecture. He therefore heralds Nigog˘os’s works as representing a renaissance of Romantic architecture (where the imagination can fly freely). Odian also emphasizes the influence of ‘the reflections and firm principles of elegant French philosophers, literary men/ poets, and historians’ on Nigog˘os during his time in Paris.88 Odian therefore stresses both the imaginative and the intellectual
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qualities of Nig˘ogos (and his works), shared by Romantic Rationalists such as Henri Labrouste. Armenian poet and historian Archag Tchobanian stated in a public address in 1902 that ‘all Armenians know the name Victor Hugo’. For Armenians, the name was sacred, symbolizing justice, liberty, beauty, courage, noble suffering for the idea and the love of humanity.89 Tchobanian adds that many of the Paris-educated Armenians joined the Revolution of 1848.90 Armenian intellectuals translated many of Hugo’s works. Nahapet Rusinian, a close friend of Nigog˘os Balyan and Krikor Odian, translated Ruy Blas.91 Krikor C¸ilingirian sent his translation of Les Mise´rables (1863) to Hugo.92 At the Gedikpas¸a Theatre of Constantinople run by Gu¨llu¨ Agop, Hugo’s works were popular.93 A generation of Armenian-Romantic authors emerged including Tzerents (1822– 88),94 Mıgırdic Bes¸iktas¸liyan (1828– 68),95 Petros Durian (1851– 72)96 and Tovmas Terzian (1840– 1909).97 Lamartine even stated in a letter of 5 March 1858 to Krikor Odian that he always liked the Armenians because they were the most active, honest and literary people of the Orient.98 Nigog˘os was a pivotal member of the Ararat Society (Araradyan Ingerutyun), established with Nahapet Rusinian and Krikor Odian in Paris in 1849 (Tzerents was also a member).99 The proclamation of the society stated that ‘The aim of the Ararat Society is to bring progress to the Armenian nation to provide for all its needs’; it added that ‘[the] happiness of a nation is contingent upon the education of its children’. The society advocated establishing cultural and educational societies to train teachers, nurturing publishing activities, and promoting reading.100 Despite heavy use of the word ‘nation’ in their proclamation, the Ararat Society was not revolutionary, but ‘a liberal movement’ working for ‘the moral and civic education of the people, amorous of justice and liberty’.101 Members of the society had seen the Orleans monarchy replaced by the elected government of the Second Republic102 but they retained a strong emphasis on the Church and on the retention of national (Armenian Orthodox) religion, history and language.103 Balyan patronage benefited Romantic authors. Agop held salons for writers at his home in Ortako¨y and he encouraged poets such as Terzian to carry out translation activities.104 Mıgırdic Bes¸iktas¸liyan wrote plays for the Oriental Theatre, an institution supported financially by Agop Balyan.105 Petros Durian attended the Cemaran Mektebi, the school established by Karapet Balyan. A well-known poem by Tovmas Terzian about the C¸ırag˘an Palace confirms the building’s status as a work of Romanticism.106 The poem attributes the structure to ‘the mind of an Armenian genius’: the concept of genius being passionately upheld by the Romantics.107 Terzian states that C¸ırag˘an does not follow any order of Western architecture, but surpasses the Gothic, thus reminding of Hugo’s appeal to create a national style looking to multiple models. Terzian draws attention to the palace’s ‘myriad ornaments’ and ‘twisted scrollwork’ and states it surpasses the Alhambra, a building that fascinated the Romantics.108 Terzian emphasizes the contrast between the blue sea and the white marble like Ruskin’s focus on the lagoon in the Stones of Venice.109
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Terzian’s entire description of the C¸ırag˘an is an echo of the assessment of the Dolmabahc e Palace by the defender of ‘Art for Art’s Sake’ and publicist of emerging artists, The´ophile Gautier.110 Drawing attention to the hybrid style of the palace, Gautier states that it is ‘not Greek, nor Roman, nor Gothic, nor Saracen, nor Arab, not yet Turkish’ and likens it to the masterpieces of Venice, Plateresco, and the cathedrals of Europe. Yet he states that it is not like the Alhambra but ‘in modern taste’.111 Gautier also refers to the contrast between the white marble of the palace and the azure of the sea112 and states that it was ‘built for immortality’.113 The intertwining themes of Terzian’s poem and Gautier’s text indicate that these palaces reflected the Romantic imagination set free, as Krikor Odian also made clear. Their sublime aspects are stressed and their beauty evoked in the manner of ekphrasis (as if the object of the description were present).114 Accounts of Bosphorus palaces by Nerval and Lamartine similarly draw attention to the white marble, blue waters, and hybrid decorative ornament. Nerval describes festoons, trefoils, arabesques, and ‘enormous cages of gold grilles’ like a dream of ‘the thousand and one nights’,115 whereas Lamartine sees Italian elements, ‘Indian and Moorish souvenirs’116 and likens the setting to Lucerne and Interlaken. Terzian was clearly participating in these literary tropes of Romanticism.117 Further Armenian accounts bolster the Romantic status of the works of the Balyan family. Krikor Arzruni notes the C¸ırag˘an Palace was ‘the first amongst the seven wonders of the world’.118 Tchobanian, perhaps with C¸ırag˘an and Dolmabahc e in mind, describes the works of Armenian architects as ‘a bold and visionary architecture’.119 Even Krikor Odian in Meg˘u makes recourse to some of the tropes of Gautier and the other Romantics. He, too, is concerned with the immortality of the works of Nigog˘os, and their being ‘condemned to obscurity’ (դատապարտվէին այն նսեմութեան). He also draws attention to how, on the banks of the Bosphorus, Nigog˘os worked ‘with the beauties of nature’ (բնութեան գեղեցկութեանցը հետ). Odian stresses that Nigog˘os was able to craft these natural beauties through his intelligence, talent for artistic beauty and fecund imagination (բեղմնաւոր երեւակայութեանը).120 The nineteenth century was, according to Armenologist Jacques De Morgan, ‘an era of progress’ for Armenians, when writers and musicians ‘engaged in new forms’. Architects, painters and sculptors were trained in the schools of the Occident and ‘did not remain behind the general movement’.121 The Balyan family were part of this movement and applied the ideas they picked up in Paris to their architectural works in the Ottoman Empire. The Architecture of the Balyan Family and the Renouvellement De´coratif of Paris Ottoman architecture in the classical period used decoration in a reserved fashion, to highlight elements of the structure, such as the pendentives or the qibla (the direction of prayer, where the mihrab is placed), and this usage of decoration was governed by rules of decorum.122 In the eighteenth century, aesthetic tastes underwent considerable change and novelty and spectacle were prized.123 Mosques included new structural
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features, such as the courtyard of the Nur-u Osmaniye Mosque was curved into a horseshoe shape. Interior decoration included polychrome, relief-carved marble on religious furniture (as at Laleli) and painted domes (as at Ayazma). Nigog˘os Balyan’s works of the middle of the nineteenth century show an even more dramatic development. These works were covered in carved and painted decoration to an unprecedented degree. This development was following the renouvellement de´coratif in contemporary Paris,124 where exterior surfaces were coated with carved symbolic motifs and interior surfaces were adorned with monumental paintings.125 This use of a decorative overlay in Ottoman architecture included the repetition of symbolic motifs to establish meaning, which was also following contemporary Parisian models where symbolic decoration ‘represented, literally, what the building “represented” institutionally’.126 In Britain too, as Ruskin wrote in 1853, it was important that architecture ‘[spoke] well, and [said] the things it was intended to say in the best words’.127 Styles held meanings based on cultural associations: Gothic churches connected Christianity to the Middle Ages, or Italian Renaissance banks signalled to the Medici, for instance.128 Ottoman works of the 1840s–1850s, such as the Dolmabahc e Palace, display motifs from imperial Rome prominently: pomegranates, shells, urns, vine scrolls, acanthus and the triumphal arch. However, these are accompanied by varied neoclassical, Renaissance, empire, baroque and neo-Islamic motifs, such as wreaths garlands, swags and festoons, militaristic clusters, brooches and cartouches and eight-pointed stars. The renouvellement de´coratif seen in Ottoman works such as Dolmabahc e Palace was a hybrid creation.129 As Nerval, Gautier and Lamartine describe, the ornament was taken from a variety of sources to give an imaginative and sublime effect, rather than sticking to one or another revivalist style. Yet the fact that the decoration included recurrent symbolic elements suggests that specific meaning was also intended. The use of symbols of sovereign and/or governmental authority was widely taught to architects in Paris. Blondel’s Cours d’architecture130 states that palaces are erected for the king for his magnificence, but that a group of other monuments can be used to express the majesty of the ruler: the most important of the monuments being triumphal gates and arches, and, second, spaces decorated with monumental orders around equestrian statues of the ruler.131 The triumphal arch was the central motif of the Dolmabahc e Palace. Not only were entrances to the palace given this form, but also triumphal arches were painted on interiors, including in the dome of the most important room of the palace, the Audience Hall (Plates 5 – 7). These arches contain a central tug˘ra, thereby signalling the power of Abdu¨lmecid. As an Islamic palace, the Dolmabahc e is devoid of the figural imagery used to communicate political meaning on French works, and instead relies upon the general symbolism of motifs, such as garlands, fruit, vine scrolls, grapes, bouquets, urns and shells, and references to sovereign authority such as the triumphal arch.
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The Parisian renouvellement de´coratif was localized further in the Dolmabahc e through the incorporation of references to Islam, to Constantinople and to the reforms of the Tanzimat, as well as to the power of the sultan represented by his tug˘ra. The sofa plan, which had formed the basis of residential architecture for centuries, was used not only in the Dolmabahc e but in all palaces and kiosks of the Tanzimat. Therefore the traditions of Ottoman architecture were not deserted but revitalized using Parisian ideas about ornament. This style will be discussed in more detail in Chapter 5.
Serkis Balyan and the E´cole Centrale des Arts et Manufactures Education at the E´cole Centrale: Science, Industry and Enterprise According to Pothier’s history, the E´cole Centrale came into being in 1829 as part of the drive to catch up with England’s industrialization. In France, men with knowledge of the theory and application of the sciences to industry and private enterprise were rare.132 Whereas the Polytechnique increasingly fed the military, the E´cole Centrale offered a general scientific education, and eliminated the mathematical theories that were not useful for application to practical works.133 One prospectus dated 1840 –1 defines the target audience: ‘Civil Engineers, Directors of Factories, Chiefs of Manufacturers, Professors of Applied Sciences’.134 The majority of students were French, but because the Centrale deliberately targeted other nationalities its intake became cosmopolitan during the period 1829– 49.135 Students had attended the Sainte-Barbe or other elite Parisian and provincial schools, and usually also a coaching school. The Centrale was the institution for a particular kind of elite – bankers, large merchants, manufacturers, owners of sizeable industrial establishments, and metallurgical and textile families – united by the fact that ‘[a]n engineering education was a way to make sure that their sons, the inheritors (he´ritiers), could maintain the family fortune in a time of rapid technological change and increasing international competition’.136 Most of the staff at the Centrale were members of the Institute or attached to scientific-learning centres; for example, Olivier was Professor of the Conservatoire des Arts et Me´tiers. Many had impressive practical experience, such as Ferry (engineer to the private domain of the King), Walter De St Ange (civil engineer and ex-Director of Factories) and Perdonnet (Engineer-in-Chief of the Versailles Railway). Some also published textbooks, such as Mary (on the subject of public works) and Perdonnet (on building railways).137 The Centraliens took other more general subjects along with their specializations so that they understood the logic behind the theories and applied them in a practical way. Centrale studies lasted three years: the first-year subjects were a prerequisite for all students; at the end of the first semester of the second year, each student chose his specialism.138 The four options were: mechanics, construction, metallurgy, and chemistry. There was emphasis throughout the Centrale education on graphic works, including architectural design and drawing plans.139
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Serkis Balyan at the E´cole Centrale Armenian sources state that Serkis Balyan, after attending the Sainte-Barbe, moved on to the E´cole Centrale. The obituary of Nigog˘os in Masis (1858) notes that Serkis ‘is a student educated in an engineering centre in Paris’ and other Armenian sources name this as the Centrale.140 Luys, an Armenian newspaper (1880 issue 52) states that Serkis was educated there alongside Hagop Baronian141 and Madiros Mu¨hendisian.142 Within the private archives of the E´cole Centrale are the student registers for 1850– 1 that list the attendance of Serkis Balyan (Ballian) and Madiros Mu¨hendisian.143 The local contact in Paris is Bardızban, but that is crossed out and replaced with Pascal Balyan (18 Boulevard Filles de Calvaire). The head of the Balyan family is stated to be an architect in Constantinople. Fathers of other students listed in the 1850– 1 registers include manufacturers, engineers and constructors of machines, as well as the architect of the town of Cahors, indicating that Serkis’s family history was not unusual in this setting. The register notes not only that Serkis had studied at the Sainte-Barbe prior to the Centrale but also ‘chez M. Priestly’ (at the private establishment of Mr Priestly). Priestly had graduated as me´canicien from the Centrale and in 1836– 7 became re´pe´titeur (tutor) for the class of general physics taught by M. Pe´clet.144 He established his own preparatory school for students who wished to apply to the Centrale.145 Serkis’s two entry examinations inserted into his register, dated 19 August 1849 and 23 August 1850, shed further light on his level of education. The examination from 1849 shows how he already possessed strong skills in mathematics.146 On the script it is verified that Balyan had studied at Sainte-Barbe and also that he had taken a course in trigonometry from G. Diet. The 1850 exam tested descriptive geometry, trigonometry and analyse ge´ome´trique, suggesting that Serkis Bey had a good basis of the essential skills of an architect and his marks showed he had promise in descriptive geometry. Descriptive geometry was the representation of three-dimensional objects in two dimensions, as developed by Gaspard Monge.147 Monge was involved in designing the post-revolutionary higher-education curriculum at the E´cole Normale and the Polytechnique. Descriptive geometry became a core part of architectural and engineering training as it was indispensable for solving spatial problems in the design process, and a textbook was published after Monge’s 1795 lectures on the subject.148 Serkis had no specialism indicated on his register at the Centrale. Instead it is noted ‘redouble’, presumably referring to repeating the first year. In his first, second and third semesters, Serkis’s courses included descriptive geometry, geometric analysis, mechanical engineering, general physics, general chemistry, natural history, transmission of movement, manipulations of chemistry, physics, surveying of buildings, surveying of machines, architectural drawing and sketches, (the basics of) descriptive geometry, and sketches (physical and mechanical). His register notes that he was often absent (‘souvent absent’), did very little work (‘tre`s peu de travaille’) and did not have a taste for serious study, even though he was already retaking courses (‘Cet e´le`ve de´ja` redoublant ne parait pas avoir le gout
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des Etudes se´rieux’). In his second year, Serkis only attended a class on metallurgy and undertook project work. The register indicates that Serkis took additional courses in drawing machines of line (machines au trait), topographical drawings and conventional colours (teintes conventionelles). Serkis obtained high marks for architectural drawing and descriptive geometry, and his attendance was good for these courses. It can be surmised that he was selective about what he chose from the curriculum, focusing on the subjects that particularly interested him or that he required for his future vocation. Inserted into Serkis’s register at the Centrale is a letter to the director of the school dated 15 January 1850, from Bardızban. It states that: ‘Mr Balyan is often unwell and Mr Mu¨hendisian is convinced that he will not be able to follow the courses at the School to any use, and so both have made the decision to quit the school to better study in their free time. They have decided to leave the school at the end of the year.’ Mu¨hendisian, whose father was an engineer, was born in Constantinople in 1829. Like Serkis, he had attended M. Priestly’s institution. Specializing as a chemist, Mu¨hendisian had better attendance and higher grades than Balyan. Despite the contents of Bardızban’s letter, Mu¨hendisian attended a full second and third year, even improving to be ‘a serious student’.149 It may be that Serkis Balyan was distracted by events in Constantinople: his father Karapet and brother Nigog˘os were building the Dolmabahc e Palace. Perhaps he was often absent because he was working on this project from Paris. Serkis could also have found the number of compulsory courses at the Centrale frustrating, since he already had a fair grounding in these areas from his time at Sainte-Barbe and Priestly’s school.150 The course content that he missed, for example machines a` vapeur (steam machines) and chemins de fer (railways) would have been useful in his later public and industrial works. Nevertheless, the courses that Serkis did attend at the Centrale would have aided his activities as an architect. He may have also attended other courses through auditing.
Serkis Bey, Industrial Works and Functionalist Building Types The Influence of Louis-Charles Mary Louis-Charles Mary was professor of architecture and public works at the Centrale between 1833 and 1864 and Engineer of the City of Paris.151 Influenced by his teacher Durand at the Polytechnique, Mary emphasized the structural and functional aspects of construction.152 Mary’s textbook,153 written after 20 years teaching, demonstrates how his architecture course involved the analysis of ‘elements of edifices’, then moved on to ‘examination of diverse edifices’ (halls, markets, shops, etc.), which shows a focus on classification according to building types, in which form reflected function. Serkis introduced many of these types into the Ottoman Empire such as the Akaretler (Fig. 4), which were the first apartment buildings in Constantinople, and C¸ırag˘an Police Station.
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Figure 4
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Akaretler Apartment Buildings (1875), Bes¸iktas¸, Istanbul. Exterior.
The textbook shows how Mary’s architecture course also included practical skills, such as ‘construction in masonry’, ‘apparatus in constructions ancient and modern’, as well as carpentry, locksmithing, coverings, foundations, modes of evaluation, estimates, and the distribution and management of water. Serkis Balyan’s subsequent works show this pragmatic approach to the components of a building. He used characteristic elements, such as the same marble stairwells, in many different buildings, as well as the same materials and methods of making foundations. Mary’s textbook included his course on public works: roads, bridges, improvement of water flows, and artificial navigation. Serkis Balyan was the most important Ottoman engaged in the introduction of European-style public works into the Empire in the 1870s. He not only built railways and constructed mines, but was also responsible for Pera’s water distribution system. It is likely that he obtained the knowhow and networks necessary for this kind of operation at the Centrale. Student notebooks, such as Tony Dutreux’s from the 1857– 9 public works and architecture courses given by Mary, shed further light on Mary’s teaching.154 Students kept notes during the class, which were later checked by the professors.155 The evidence of the notebooks underscores the practicality of Mary’s approach to architecture and public works. Introductions to the tools required, materials (and their fabrication), and methods of levelling land show how Mary equipped his students to be self-sufficient and to carry out works from start to finish. Serkis showed such independence in his establishment of the Ottoman Company for Public Works. Dutreux’s notebooks also confirm the logical progression in Mary’s architecture course from studying the individual elements of a structure, to the orders of architecture, elements of well-known buildings, and then moving on to whole buildings with particular functions, such as the Halles Centrales. This breaking down
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of the elements of a structure and the identification of how a certain structure communicates its function can be seen in the architecture of Serkis Balyan, as will be explored in Chapter 5. Serkis Balyan’s School for Arts and Industry and Ottoman Company for Public Works The proposal for a school of arts and industry that Serkis submitted to the Porte in 1881 shows the influence of the Centrale education. As Ahmet Ersoy suggests, the proposal follows the technical-school model of the E´cole Centrale, which included specialization into one of four fields of industry.156 However, although Ersoy takes the view that the proposal illustrates the growing professionalization of the Ottoman building sector at this time, the content of the proposal is more eclectic than his interpretation suggests. Serkis Bey’s school of arts and industry incorporated Ottoman techniques alongside modern Parisian artistic and functionalist ones. The syllabus is, in reality, quite different from the Centrale courses recounted in this chapter. First, at the Centrale there was no course in Greek and Roman architecture, on other architectural traditions (Arab, Persian, etc.) or on the science of antiquities. Serkis’s experience at the BeauxArts influenced these elements of the school. Second, at the Centrale there was no instruction on aspects such as the manufacturing of an artificial model from beeswax and plaster, or even on painting in oils and watercolours, or ornamentation. Serkis Bey’s inclusion of instruction on these techniques was influenced by his time at the Beaux-Arts, and by his experience working with his father on imperial projects, where these techniques were commonplace. Another example of Serkis Balyan’s ambivalent relationship with the E´cole Centrale’s approach is the Ottoman Company for Public Works (S¸irket-i Nafıa-ı Osmaniye), which he founded on 21 March 1873. As seen in the works of Cezar, Nalbantog˘lu and S¸enyurt, Serkis’s role in the introduction of communications and industrial development is often described in terms of his personal integration with capitalist methods, and collaboration with Europeans and bankers.157 However, the evidence suggests that Serkis was, in fact, not an agent of Westernization in this way, but a preventative buffer, trying to stimulate Ottoman development in the face of European encroachment. He won contracts that foreign companies coveted – such as for the building of railways – and that foreigners carried out after his downfall.158 Archival documents show the varied activities of the company. As head of this company, Serkis was given a 35-year contract to build railways in the Empire, including those in Bandırma, Balıkesir, Kayseri, Mersin, Tarsus and Adana.159 The company obtained rights to extract coal in Bartın and Cide in Kastamonu in 1874.160 Other projects included the extraction of gold, silver, copper and coal in Erzincan.161 Ottoman and European newspapers remark on the establishment of a steam-powered sawmill in Beykoz in 1873– 4,162 and mention that Serkis won the contract for the building of the Baghdad Railway in 1875.163
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The Ottoman documents shed light on the motivations for the establishment of the company. One document states it was formed to execute every kind of architectural operations within the Imperial Ottoman Domains, as well as to produce the required materials for these works, to build factories and to bring into existence other kinds of activities for the general good.164 The company was created as a state-sanctioned monopoly over imperial building works and the supply of materials. This was already Serkis’s position, but the company gave it a new capitalistic appearance by the sale of shares and other activities. The company was intended for the development of Ottoman resources and industrial production. Documents explain that the company was specifically founded to supply building projects with materials that currently had to be imported from Europe.165 Every country had its own factories and, because the Empire had to make continuous demands to Europe (for goods), it made losses.166 Thus, the venture is explained in terms of following the European model for industrialization and modernization and in economic terms, but there is also an Ottomanist emphasis on developing the Ottoman provinces and combating the need to import European goods. Attempts were made to limit the company to Ottoman soil and to Ottoman subjects; for example, a stress was laid on how permits were not to be given to foreign companies that would not follow the laws of the Empire.167 The fact that, as Tug˘lacı stated, French investors sought a contract for a coal mine but their proposal was rejected and it was awarded to Serkis, who had stipulated that a foreign foreman and workers were to be employed in the repair shops of new mines and that local people would be employed as the miners due to the poverty in the region, shows Serkis’ intent to benefit the regions where he based the Ottoman Company for Public Works’ activities.168
The E´cole des Beaux-Arts and Serkis Balyan Armenian sources such as Teotik169 state that Serkis Balyan attended the E´cole des Beaux-Arts for his education. Dzarig (1899 issue 56) notes that Serkis went to the Beaux-Arts along with A.H. Ayvazian.170 The voluminous documentation of the Beaux-Arts kept at the Archives Nationales makes finding information on Serkis Balyan that corroborates these Armenian sources rather onerous,171 and this is compounded by the complex status of Serkis’s registration at the school. Serkis Balyan made an application to the Beaux-Arts in 1849 as an architecte aspirant. The application includes French and Armenian text that states Serkis’s date and place of birth and other information required for his registration.172 Beyond this document, there is no evidence of his attendance at this or at any point during the 1850s in registers of enrolment,173 student dossiers,174 registers for a variety of classes in architecture (1e classe, 2e classe, concours d’emulation, concours de construction, and so on), enrolment in the ateliers,175 or in other collections of documents, such as prize lists.176 The name Palean appears only much later. In 1860 in the register for Architectes Aspirants, dated 10 October, a Palean (number 84), a student of Rebout, is listed. Later,
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Palean (number 87), a student of Andre´, is listed in the register for Construction Ge´ne´rale dated 31 August 1864.177 Of course, it is not certain that this is Serkis Balyan, but the dates do match Serkis’s second stay in Paris between 1860 and 1864. Therefore it seems that, after having sampled the education of the Sainte-Barbe and the Centrale, he moved on to attend the Beaux-Arts, although, again, he did not graduate. Further evidence that this was indeed Serkis Balyan is that one of his classmates is listed repeatedly as ‘Aivaz’. An Armenian source noted that among Serkis’s classmates was A.H. Ayvazian.178 Alexandre Aivaz entered the section for architecture in 1857 (number 1365),179 and progressed into the 2 e classe in the 1860s.180 Aivaz studied within the ateliers (atelier of Bonnat, no. 425),181 he attended the same courses as Serkis (as well as additional ones) and he has a student dossier as an e´le`ve architecte.182 Aivaz was a better student than Serkis, who seems to have attended few courses at the Beaux-Arts, as he did at the Centrale. Nevertheless, this does not mean that his experience did not influence him and his works. Courses at the Beaux-Arts in the late 1850s and early 1860s included a degree of overlap with some of what Serkis learned at the Centrale: descriptive geometry was taught as part of the course of Architectes Aspirants, along with carpentry, masonry and metalwork. There was also a formal emphasis on perspective, ornament and the design of ornament, which were courses for the Architectes Aspirants.183 The Cours de Construction, which Serkis Balyan attended in 1864, consisted of 20 lessons including a theoretical portion, followed by tuition on the resistance of materials, then a 30-lesson technical part, including construction in marble, metal, masonry, carpentry and general construction.184 The course had a functional approach close to what Serkis Bey was exposed to at the Centrale. For the academic year 1863– 4,185 in the architecture section the teachers for the Cours Spe´ciaux were Leseueur (theory of architecture), Lebas (history of architecture), Jay (construction), Francoeur (mathematics) and Constant-Dufeux (perspective), as well as others giving instruction in painting, sculpture and anatomy. There was also a course on history and antiquities given by M. Heuzey. In addition to the special classes were Cours de L’Exercice, which, in 1864, included anatomy, mathematics, perspective (taught by M. Chevillard), descriptive geometry (M. Amiot), aesthetics and the history of art (M. Viollet-le-Duc), geology, physics and chemistry (M. Pasteur), history and archaeology (M. Heuzey) and book-keeping administration (M. Millet).186 There is little information about Serkis Balyan’s teachers in the Architectes Aspirants and Construction Ge´ne´rale courses. One staff list includes M. Juls Rebout (who taught architecture),187 but it is also possible that a former student could have taught the class such as Auguste-Euge`ne Mercier (known as Rebout) admitted into the first class in 1839, or Auguste-Euge`ne-Jean Mercier (known as Rebout) admitted to the second class in 1862. There is more information on another of Serkis Balyan’s teachers, Louis-Jules Andre´, professeur d’architecture.188 Andre´, who became a Beaux-Arts student in 1836, won the Grand Prix de Rome in 1847. He then spent five years in Italy, Sicily and Greece. He
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worked on the Imperial Library under Henri Labrouste and succeeded him in the atelier he created in 1856.189 Andre´ had many notable students such as Charles Garnier, who cites Andre´ as a mentor.190 Many of Labrouste’s students went on to study under Andre´, who also practised Romantic classicism. One of his notable students was the architect Henry Hobson Richardson. Richardson’s assistant Theodore Minot Clark’s account talks of Andre´’s influence over Richardson, ‘(his) peculiarities of style, and even pet motifs’, his ‘contrasts of light and shadow’ and ‘largeness of detail’. Clark goes on to note ‘the cavernous triple portals, the all-embracing arches, the deep and richly decorated voussoirs’ and other features that belonged to Romanesque architects before they were adopted by Romantics.191 Another of Andre´’s students, and also a former student of Labrouste, was Julien Guadet, who developed theories about architectural character during his time in the Beaux-Arts ateliers of the 1850s and published these ideas in his treatise.192 Guadet’s book states that character is identity, which is between the architectural impression and the moral impression of the (whole) programme. His work addressed architectural types, which were a key part of the teaching of the Beaux-Arts in the 1850s– 60s. Andre´’s best-known work is the Museum of Natural History (now Gallery of Evolution), Paris. The museum follows Labrouste’s incorporation of modern materials and techniques (it is a cast iron structure with glass roof), his fascination with Italy is shown through decorative details and his use of inscriptions to communicate the function of the building was also after Labrouste. Andre´’s Museum merges functional and formal approaches to architecture, it manages to reference and to synthesize architectural traditions to create a united whole. It also shows how ornament and inscriptions could be used imaginatively to communicate meaning. All of these features were included in Serkis Balyan’s subsequent Ottoman works.
The Beaux-Arts, Viollet-le-Duc and Ideas of an Ottoman Renaissance The teaching of building types was systematized in nineteenth-century France.193 The use of a certain type of plan and facade communicated the function of a building. These types were demonstrated in model books such as Durand’s Lecons d’Architecture (1817).194 Teaching at the Beaux-Arts had a less functional and more decorative emphasis than that of Durand at the Polytechnique, and his student Mary at the Centrale. At the Beaux-Arts, building types included hunting lodges and cafes, ecclesiastical buildings, and communications such as the metro, all of which spoke their function through their design, and particularly, their ornament.195 Serkis Balyan designed several bijou hunting lodges for Abdu¨laziz in addition to the more functional buildings such as the Akaretler apartment blocks. A further influence of the Beaux-Arts teaching on Serkis Balyan is the instruction in the science of antiquities, and Greek and Roman styles included in his proposal for a school of arts and industry. The Beaux-Arts’ prospectus shows that it offered these
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courses in 1864.196 There were also courses on non-western architectural styles, which Serkis included on his syllabus. An outline of the history of architecture course offered by M. Magne at the BeauxArts some years later reveals the Beaux-Arts perception of non-western styles.197 The section of Magne’s course on ‘modern architecture’ included Latin, Byzantine, Gothic, Renaissance, Monastic architecture and Arab architecture as well as that of China, Mexico and Peru. On Arab architecture, the outline states: ‘it is byzantine [in] origin, modified by the oriental imagination, characterised by the use of the trefoil arch’.198 Arab architecture was considered to encompass works stretching from Cairo, to Isfahan and to Granada. Formal aspects were believed to be transmitted from region to region showing the confluence of the Arab peoples and their relationship to earlier artistic traditions such as the Byzantine. Serkis Balyan’s works in the 1860s and 1870s show a similar vision of style that brings together Arab elements with other styles thought to be related. The teachings of Viollet-le-Duc also show this approach to style. In 1864 he gave a class on Esthe´tique et Histoire De L’Art199 at the Beaux-Arts, which was when Serkis Balyan was present. Viollet-le-Duc made a strong impression on students at that time. Like the Romantics, his views were contrary to the past traditions of the Beaux-Arts, which placed emphasis on copying the Greek and Roman orders of architecture, their decorum and ‘subtle linguistic expression’.200 In his publication, Lectures, Viollet-le-Duc expressed many of the views he presented during his teaching. It was Viollet-le-Duc’s belief that architects needed to be educated not only in practice, but also in theory. This belief stemmed from archaeological discoveries, which enabled architects to see ‘the points which these styles have in common, [and] how they start from the same principles’.201 Viollet-le-Duc railed against the neo-styles of the nineteenth century that ‘superficially adopt[ed] certain forms without analysing them or recurring to their causes’.202 The solution to this prevalence of neo-styles was the ‘spirit of method’ (scientific method), including the rigorous study of the architecture of the past and respect for its principles.203 Similar ideas were held throughout Europe. In Britain, Pugin lamented the ‘foolish education of many architectural students’204 and criticized meaningless eclecticism: the Swiss cottages, Italian villas and Turkish kremlin.205 Under Pugin, the picturesque had a serious analytical approach and one that was engaged in a search for a style with religious and social meaning.206 Viollet-le-Duc’s theories were brought to the Ottoman Empire by Le´on Parville´e, who was his disciple. Parville´e travelled to Constantinople to work on Mıgırdic Cezayirliyan’s mansion and was later employed on the Dolmabahc e Palace.207 Parville´e took a copy of Viollet-le-Duc’s Entretiens sur l’Architecture with him when he was employed to rebuild the monuments of the first Ottoman capital, Bursa.208 Viollet-le-Duc ranked Parville´e’s theories alongside those of Bourgoin and Edmond Duthoit.209 Parville´e’s theories are voiced in his own book, L’Architecture et Decorations Turques (1874). Viollet-le-Duc, in his preface to Parville´e’s text, expresses the idea that l’art turc was in continuity with Gothic and Crusader architecture.210 He believed that there was a
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common convergence of Islamic architecture, as well as medieval European works. Noting the pragmatism of l’art turc’s adoption of whatever was suitable and at its disposal (the traditions of Islamic architecture, the local use of marbles, and so on), Viollet-le-Duc argues that l’art turc is not a distinctive type but a mixture of Arab, Persian and Hindu elements.211 In contrast, Parville´e deemed l’art turc to be a unique creation that was representative of a meˆle´e aux conque´rants (the mixture of the diverse peoples the Empire had conquered and assimilated). One of l’art turc’s great masterpieces is the Green Mosque of Bursa, which, Parville´e states, is proof that the patron, Sultan Mehmed I, was deserving of his title of C¸elebi, meaning le gentilhomme.212 The setting that gave rise to the architectural decoration of Bursa is even likened by Parville´e to the pluralistic conditions of the Tanzimat.213 Neo-Ottoman, Gothic, Moorish, Arab and Mughal features in the Ottoman imperial works of the 1860s and 1870s were not historicist like the neo-Ottoman works that Parville´e himself produced,214 nor were they archaeologically correct like the Gothic Revival of Viollet-le-Duc.215 They were not aiming to create a historically accurate reproduction, based on archaeological research. Instead, Serkis’s works were an attempt to create an Ottoman Renaissance by communicating the ideas of these theorists in an imaginative way. These Ottoman works represent an Ottoman Renaissance through referencing the sources of l’art turc according to Viollet-le-Duc (the Moorish, Arab, Mughal and Gothic). At the same time, they communicate the syncretic nature of Ottoman architecture according to Parville´e through the combination of these elements within an Ottoman basis. The imaginative nature of the works of Serkis Balyan is closer to the Marseille Cathedral of Vaudoyer, than the national purity of the neo-Gothic works of Viollet-leDuc. Vaudoyer’s cathedral expressed the identity of that city as between East and West in a style of ‘cultural intermingling’.216 Gottfried Semper could also have been an influence, who viewed a coating of ornament as a symbolic language representing the essence of architecture.217 Semper created the Ottoman pavilion for the London 1851 Exhibition and it is likely he had ties with the Balyans.218 The illusionistic play of the scagliola (ersatz marble) and coloured marbles, trompe l’oeil and theatrical stairways of Balyan works moreover evokes Charles Garnier, fellow student of Andre´ at the BeauxArts, who, like Semper, believed in architecture as representation.219 This syncretic, imaginative, emotive architecture of Serkis Balyan therefore formed a parallel to contemporary Parisian thought, but was not following any one particular theorist.
Serkis Balyan and his Sense of Distance A full-page article devoted to Serkis Balyan in Le Monde Illustre´ on 21 August 1875, complete with an engraving (Serkis wears several medals across his chest), showed how his international fame had risen by that point and he was viewed alongside his Romantic contemporaries. What distinguishes this man of talent is the incredible speed with which he raises out of the ground these colossal constructions. Thus, the Beylerbeyi Palace, almost
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as large and rich as our new Ope´ra, was built in twenty-four months; the Yildiz Kiosk, a jewel of carving in stone and marble, with the dimensions of our National Library, was built in less than six months. At this speed of execution, ‘S.E. Serkis Bey’ was able to join his precious gift for economy with his administrative mechanism utterly appropriate to local requirements so that all of his edifices cost but one-third that analogous monuments have cost our Public Treasury.220 Although the article applauds not just Serkis’s architectural prowess, high status and character, it characterizes him as a somewhat other-worldly marvel able to complete buildings with a speed and economic awareness that Europeans could only dream about. This othering was coloured by Orientalism, but it could also reflect Serkis’s own deliberate retention of, even emphasis of, his Armenian –Ottoman identity. This chapter has stressed the importance of the influence of Paris on the works of the Balyan family. However, the exuberant style and heavily carved ornament of Balyan works could also be related to Armenian tradition. Relief stone-carving was a definitive characteristic of Armenian architecture, seen on the medieval portals of Etchmiadzin, and Geghard. Yet, as Jacques de Morgan noted, the Armenian art of stone-carving was modernized with the use of European techniques,221 for instance through the private initiatives of Ohannes Serveryan. Therefore, European ideas and techniques were being used to regenerate not just Ottoman but also Armenian traditions. Although the historiography has emphasized the transformative effect of a Parisian education, this chapter shows how this generation of Armenians used the tools they had learned – for example Nigog˘os’s ideas about ornament and Serkis’s engineering skills – in the service of their local professional identity as Ottoman imperial architects. An 1846 article in the newspaper Hayasdan (issue 3) notes this approach: ‘Young people who were educated in Europe have returned and have tried to help others. Students who are still there work hard in order to soon rejoin their families and their nation (azk/ազգ). These kinds of people are deserving of praise.’ The characters depicted in two Armenian novels give similar impressions. In L’Amira, Mekertich’s character reflects the younger generation. Mekertich studies in Paris, has foreign friends and has a French doctor, which shows the broadening of the Armenians’ networks from the local circles of his father He´rotik Amira. Moving from the old house in Bes¸iktas¸ to a newly built apartment block in Pera, Mekertich also partakes in different social activities; he goes to Alemdag˘ (where Abdu¨laziz built a hunting lodge) whereas He´rotik Amira is rooted to the church.222 However, in the end, there is not such a huge gulf. Despite the change in his residence, social activities and cultural interests, Mekertich is still committed to the locality and bound by duty to continue the works of his father, forming a barrier against foreign intrusion: The Europeans they seek – do they not try – to take the place of the Armenians? Said one of the eminent Sarrafs. For a long time I have known the most intimate thoughts of the amira, voila, for many years I was one of these friends; his idea was
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to save the name of our illustrious nation. There has already been talk of opening European banks. Consider, Bey, where it will lead us. We will lose all our influence over the Turks. Do you understand?223 The characterization in Vartan Pas¸a’s Novel Akabi Hikayesi (1851), which is set in 1846– 7 Constantinople, also suggests that the image of a transformed Armenian community should be revised. An older character (the aunt of Hagop Ag˘a) voices concerns about the spread of European entertainments and mores and their negative impact on the local social fabric. The men attend the theatre, play cards and do not spend their evenings within their houses or think of their families.224 The younger character, Hagop Ag˘a, tries to convince his aunt of the need not to be left behind Europe (ve Evropa daim ileru gitmekde olarak bizim geri kalmamız mu¨mkinsiz dir). He adds that although today she does not want to recognize this, tomorrow she will be in agreement.225 Thus, through these characters, the younger generation’s view that it is necessary to implement European models for the sake of progress is emphasized, but that view is not regarded without scepticism. Other characters, such as Rupenig Ag˘a, have a taste for French items, culture, entertainments and have travelled. However, Rupenig Ag˘a remains rooted. His sculptures depict Lokmann and Socrates,226 and his house contains a traditional sofaplan arrangement in the centre of his alafranga furniture. Also showing Rupenig Ag˘a’s mixed identity is his library, containing Armenian, Turkish and French works.227 Akabi Hikayesi illustrates how local aspects could coexist alongside Parisian ones in nineteenth-century Armenian– Ottoman society. There are some indications that the activities and identities of the sons of Karapet also show continuity rather than change from those of the amiras. An illustration originally included as the cover of a book named Les Artistes et les Savants Arme´niens228 depicts Nigog˘os Balyan and Karapet Amira on either side of the central figure of Ayvazovski. They wear the modest clothing of a fez and plain black overalls (as opposed to an alafranga frock coat). Although Ayvazovski is the central focus, the picture confirms the important position of the two Balyans in the cultural development of nineteenth-century Armenians. Serkis continued the work of the amiras in carrying out pious works. He established the Makruhyan School in Bes¸iktas¸ in 1866,229 the Arshaguniats Armenian School in Dolapdere in 1875230 and a school in the village of Meramet in Van, as well as financially supporting these schools with endowments.231 He built a large church in Gaziantep in 1892,232 and endowed an orphanage that was built after his death.233 This continuity indicates that Armenian –Ottoman identity was not totally transformed by Parisian influence in the 1840s. Instead, Armenians used their Parisian education and experience to improve local realities in Constantinople, whether through translation of texts, establishment of societies, language reform or more traditional activities such as vakıf. This pragmatism is also seen in their application of changing Parisian ideas to their building works, and the formation of an official style, which is discussed in Chapter 5.
CHAPTER 5 OFFICIAL STYLE AND ARCHITECTURE IN THE TANZIMAT
C’est le style turc du dernier sie`cle: des festons, des rocailles comme ornements, des kiosques orne`s de tre`fles et d’arabesques, qui s’avancent comme d’e´normes cages grille´es d’or, des toits aigus et des colonnettes peintes de couleurs vives . . . On reˆve quelque temps les myste`res des Mille et une Nuits.1 The style of nineteenth-century Ottoman architecture has been derided since the end of the Tanzimat. Observers complain that these works simply follow alafranga fashions and are frappante, rocaille or even corrupt. Travellers such as Curzon preferred the much earlier Mamluk works to the ‘barbarous’ Mosque of Mehmed Ali Pas¸a in Cairo,2 and Ottoman authors from the late Tanzimat internalized these Orientalist perceptions of their own architecture.3 Nineteenth-century European architecture was also written off as imitative and hackneyed because it returned to styles that had previously been dismissed, such as the baroque.4 The evolutionary view of the history of art, which dominated the discipline, was the cause. Formalist perspectives, such as those of Wo¨lfflin (1864– 1945) and Focillon (1881– 1943), held tremendous sway over the historiography of nineteenth-century architecture.5 Focillon defined style as ‘the peculiarly eternal value, that allows it to escape the bondage of time’. He defined a style as ‘a development, a coherent grouping of forms united by a reciprocal fitness’ as well as ‘an essential harmony’ always building and annihilating itself.6 The stranglehold of these ideas led to the writing off of the hybrid and revivalist Ottoman works of the nineteenth century as neither having style nor comprising a style. The influential writings of Hobsbawm and Anderson and their vision of the rise of nationalism over the nineteenth century were factors that prevented architectural works from being regarded as creative entities on their own terms.7 Parallels between political, social and cultural developments meant that architecture was interpreted as another tool for the articulation of the nation.8
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The true complexity of European nineteenth-century architecture has only very recently begun to be exposed. Bergdoll draws attention to ‘an unprecedented range of architectural solutions and experiments, of competing visions and theories, even of bold blueprints’.9 Ottoman Empire architecture formed part of these ‘competing visions’ about the built environment and what it communicated. As Nerval indicates (in the epigraph of this chapter), one group of observers, the Romantics, regarded recent Ottoman architecture with enthusiasm. These works were a site where the Romantic imagination was set free. The hybrid ornament, sublime Bosphorus setting and forbidding evocations of Oriental power in the Balyan family works were vaunted by both European and Armenian authors such as Gautier and Terzian.10 As seen in Chapter 4, Nigog˘os, Serkis and Agop invoked a Parisian renouvellement de´coratif to communicate new messages about the Empire in their architecture of the Tanzimat. In the 1840s and 1850s, influenced by the Sainte-Barbe and the Romanticism of Labrouste, they took as inspiration for their works the great Mediterranean empires of Venice and Rome. In the 1860s and 1870s, under the influence of the Beaux-Arts, their gaze shifted to Islamic civilizations, following the ideas of Viollet-le-Duc and Le´on Parville´e, and they created a thoroughly syncretic, not a historicist, Ottoman Renaissance style. This chapter discusses how these transformations in style were made to fit their Ottoman context. It supports the view that a distinctive style was formulated for each sultan of the Tanzimat: Mahmud II in the 1820s and 1830s, Abdu¨lmecid in the 1840s and 1850s and Abdu¨laziz in the 1860s and 1870s. Each style was a vision of the Empire under that sultan’s sovereignty and portrayed his rule through symbolic imagery. Each work contained a blend of the renouvellement de´coratif with Ottoman building types and methods of visual communication. As Nerval noted, trefoils were combined with arabesques, kiosks with colonnettes. But this architecture was consciously hybrid and it expressed the reforming spirit of the Tanzimat: the old and new as well as East and West, all of which was crowned by symbols signalling to the undisputed power of the sultan.
An Official Style in Ottoman Architecture? Focillon’s directive to identify ‘an internal organizing logic’ of the forms used in a work of art or architecture through the tool of stylistic analysis enables the components of the style that was created by each member of the Balyan family for their respective patron to be pinpointed.11 Yet, as Caygill asserts, using such Eurocentric art history tools to identify a style should not be a substitute for Ottoman architecture ‘generating its own imaginal histories’.12 Formal analysis can be combined with the notion of an official style, which is a common theme within Islamic architecture. Flood identifies an official visual culture in the Umayyad Great Mosque of Damascus in the repetition of plans, facade types and decorative motifs, as well as recurring quirks,13 whereas Canby charts the formation of a unified style in the Safavid Empire under Shah Abbas across several media.14
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In the Ottoman context, the Imperial Architects’ Office produced standardized designs referring to Ottoman rule, recognized by Evliyya C¸elebi in the seventeenth century as Rum tarzı (the style of Rum/the central lands of the Ottoman Empire). Mosques, institutional and functional buildings were built that were characteristically Ottoman.15 By the 1550s, when the Empire’s administrative and legal structure had developed, there was ‘a distinctive canon of standardized forms’, creating a ‘classical synthesis’.16 These forms were repeated on Iznik tiles, calligraphy, metalwork, wall painting, inlaid woodwork, stained glass, carpets and illuminated Korans, such as items commissioned for the Su¨leymaniye Mosque of 1557. The style reduced European and Persian influences17 and consisted of the repetition of forms and standardized motifs, signalling the status of the patron, but without specific meaning.18 Eighteenth-century Ottoman architecture was transformed from the codified decorum of Sinan to ‘a new architectural sensibility’ that applauded novelty19 and ‘ornamental excess’ (marble, mirrors, stained glass, gilding and decorative motifs).20 This change has been regarded in the past less as the result of a conscious policy of the architect or sultan, but more a reflection of a general ‘social de´cloisonnement’, and exchange between the court and urban society.21 Imperial mosques built at the end of the eighteenth century and the beginning of the nineteenth century such as the Beylerbeyi Mosque of Abdu¨lhamid I and the Selimiye of Selim III, encompass more austere neoclassical and empire elements. That such works coincided with Selim III’s reforms, known as Nizam-i Cedid (New Order), encouraged the view that their style marked a ‘return to order’.22 Close ties with France during this period are emphasized, such as the employment of Antoine Ignace Melling (1763– 1831) by the Ottoman court.23 Melling moved to Constantinople in 1784 and built a number of kiosks, such as at Bes¸iktas¸ Palace for Selim III, and made interiors for Hatice Sultan. Melling’s influence captured the imagination of Turkish writers. Tanpınar describes how Melling imported Western designs into coastal-home (yalı) architecture. Orhan Pamuk, emphasizes Melling’s appreciation of Constantinople as a local resident (in contrast to Orientalist observers), and claims that he initiated the hybrid style of the Tanzimat.24 Although there was some degree of uniformity within these works of the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, it was not until the 1820s, the last years of Mahmud II’s reign, that a coherent official style used across building types linked to that sultan’s authority is seen. Ottoman sovereignty was associated not with territory but with the God-given power of the sultan and his family to rule over his Well Protected (Royal) Domains. The Ottoman dynasty, or House of Osman, retained a remarkable degree of power over the varied subjects indigenous to ‘their’ territories, although their rule had metamorphosed during the Empire.25 During the nineteenth century there was a crisis of sovereignty as nation states broke away and the Empire took on loans, and European social, cultural and political influence encroached. The Ottoman dynasty responded to these threats in a number of different ways.26
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A refashioning of Ottoman sovereignty during the Tanzimat can be seen, starting with the period at the end of Mahmud II’s reign. This was part of a new attention to order and to the portrayal of the sultan. But it was accompanied by a thoroughly hybrid court culture (reflecting the heightened mobility of the Tanzimat). This chapter shows how the Balyan family, using Parisian tools of visual communication, and their Ottoman heritage, demonstrated this preoccupation with order, representation and display of the sovereignty of the sultan. For their respective patrons the Balyan family created styles that were intended to express an Ottoman Renaissance.
Mahmud II and a New Order Mahmud II paid special attention to the regulation of Ottoman society at the end of his reign. One control was a clothing reform in 1829 that specified that old costumes and headgear should be replaced with a European frock coat and a fez.27 The most notorious of Mahmud’s new measures was the massacre of the janissaries, who had stood in the way of earlier top-down reform.28 ¨ ss-i Zafer (The Foundation of Victory, 1826), by Es’ad Efendi, is the official The U history of the Auspicious Incident (Vaka-i Hayriye) of the disbanding (and massacre) of the janissaries, and communicates Mahmud’s motivations. The text emphasizes Mahmud’s clearing away old, inefficient and corrupt orders and their replacement with new, modern ones. The reforms were ‘the personal action of the sultan, who did so to purge the garden of the empire of its savage and useless weeds, and to embellish it with the fruits of a new organization’. Mahmud II is referred to as ‘restorer of the empire and supporter of religion’.29 Mahmud II and Representation From the reign of Mahmud II, increasingly sophisticated portraiture was used to communicate a new image of the sultan and his reformed empire. Portraits from the last decade of his reign show an alignment with European symbols of civilization and rule. Mahmud II wears the new costume of cloak and fez. In one portrait he is shown with his horse, leading his army, with his hand pointing ahead.30 In another, he stands turned to the right, carrying a sword, with a drawn curtain and a building he has commissioned in the background. As Renda points out, these portraits have a strong relationship with European royal portraiture and the Napoleonic epic.31 Portraits were used in diplomatic circles and sent to foreign powers as representations of the modern empire. They were also displayed in Ottoman locations and were used in Ottoman ceremonies. As Deringil explains: The immediate predecessors of Abdu¨lhamid II had always taken great pains to appear as ‘modern’ monarchs by adopting the European practice of displaying portraits of the monarch in public places. Mahmud II had begun this practice. Various religious sheikhs blessed his portraits before they were placed in
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government offices and other public places, and a twenty-one gun salute was fired as a guard of honour marched past them.32 One Armenian– Ottoman dynasty, the Manas family, formulated this new portraiture throughout the Tanzimat. Members of the family received a European education and were employed in embassies in Paris, Vienna and Turin,33 which shows the intersection of art, international networks and official relations at this time. The Manas family tailored an image for the Ottoman sultans on the basis of their European experience and their ability to relate this to Ottoman traditions of representation and notions of sovereign power. Mahmud II and Mobility References to European modes of visual communication in the Ottoman art and architecture of the reign of Mahmud II were made possible by ‘conversations’ with Europe since (at least) the time of Mehmed the Conqueror.34 These became especially animated in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries when increased international travel and diplomatic relations facilitated the exchange of information. Yirmisekiz Mehmed C¸elebi collected books, plans and drawings when he was ambassador to France in 1721.35 The Topkapı Palace library contains engravings of Versailles, as well as publications on royal houses, festivities at Versailles, a description of the Hotel des Invalides, works by Vignole, Palladio and Scamozzi, as well as books entitled Cours D’Architecture (Paris, 1698), Nouveau Theatre D’Italie. . . L’Architecture Francoise (Paris, 1727), and A Book of Architecture (London, 1728) by James Gibbs.36 The availability of these materials suggests that by the Tanzimat the sultan and his companions had considerable familiarity with major works of European architecture. In addition to this knowledge at court, there was that circulated within highly mobile Armenian networks that were connected to the household of the sultan, not only through the Balyan, Dadyan, Du¨zyan, Manas and other notable families, but also through figures like the bezirgan (merchant). Armenian networks were found connecting artistic centres, such as London, Paris, Venice and Rome, Constantinople and eastwards to Tiflis, Russia, India, Persia and the Far East.37 Aslanian comments that the global networks of Madras and Calcutta Armenians ‘brought with them not only commodities, capital and European personnel. . . but also cultural and “mental constructs”’.38 Books printed by the Venetian Mekhitarists and circulated throughout the diaspora show that these networks also disseminated notions that could have influenced artistic practices. Stamps used by the San Lazzaro Monastery press dating from the eighteenth century shows that motifs from baroque and Renaissance art were used in their publications. Many of these motifs were heraldic devices used in Ottoman architecture, such as the wreath, sunbursts, the brooch and cartouche,39 the ribbon (with ends blowing in the wind) and the garland. By the nineteenth century, elites in Constantinople were even more mobile than in the earlier century. Newspapers create the impression of constant movement to Europe,
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with amiras mentioned frequently.40 The Dadyans travelled to England to study factories.41 Krikor and Karapet Balyan were part of this mobility on some level, but it is not clear from the sources if they travelled to Europe. The sophisticated architecture that they created for Mahmud II, like the portraits of the Manas family, certainly indicates knowledge of European artistic traditions and the ability to refashion these for the Ottoman environment. Crafting an Official Style: Krikor Balyan and his Modern Architecture of the 1820s Krikor Balyan worked as Imperial Architect to Abdu¨lhamid I, Selim III and Mahmud II, according to the Armenian sources,42 but did not carry out many works until the 1820s. Before then there was a group of kalfas operating in conjunction with the Imperial Architects’ Office, including Agop, Foti and Todori as well as Krikor. Early buildings attributed to Krikor, such as Aynalı Kavak Sarayı (1786), show a strong relationship to preceding Ottoman types, reflecting the continued existence of the Imperial Architects’ Office. Aynalı Kavak Sarayı, a domed kiosk, based on the sofa plan of Ottoman residential architecture, resembles works such as the Bag˘dat Pavilion of the Topkapı, but has separate rooms and wide eaves signalling to the eighteenth century.43 The decorative vocabulary of Selim III adorning the interior shows the most distinctive change.44 Including stucco window frames, Venetian stained glass and European motifs (floral bouquets, shells, fruit, curved Rococo motifs known as C- and S-scrolls, and pulled-back curtains), many of these elements would remain part of the iconography of the following sultans, most notably the tug˘ra, or imperial monogram. Imperial works carried out by Krikor in the 1820s display a markedly different style. This is seen on barracks, the Imperial Mint, the Bab-ı Ali (Sublime Porte), Nusretiye Mosque and Kumkapı Surp Asdvadzadzin Church. The Imperial Mint, a characteristic example, is dominated by a monumental entrance in the form of an entablature, crowned by a central tug˘ra, supported by Corinthian columns and capitals and adorned with a neoclassical decorative flower head to each side. The main building has long lateral masonry facades with a protruding bay in the centre, topped by a pediment. Carved pediments also top the large stone window frames. This new formula was more explicitly European than that seen in the eighteenth century, as Lamartine notes: ‘une magnifique hoˆtel des monnaies, baˆtiment modern, sans aucun caracte`re oriental.’45 Barracks that Krikor built in the first three decades of the nineteenth century implement this modern architecture, consisting of a streamlined facade, monumental entrances, neoclassical decorative vocabulary and central tug˘ra. English traveller MacFarlane writes of the entrance to the Selimiye Barracks (1827) in 1829: ‘the gates are decorated with beautiful white slabs, with scrolls, and other sculpture ornaments, and the puzzling “tugrah” or cipher of the sultan (about two feet long) is inserted over the arched doorway’.46 He adds that the entrance gate was superior to any ‘modern’ building in Turkey.47 This new architecture was certainly related to that of early-nineteenth-century Paris. Shaped by the academy and its teaching methods that relied upon archaeological
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study (and copying in ateliers) of Greek and Roman models, the neoclassical style dominated. Although later tainted by an image of conservatism,48 in the earlier decades of the century, neoclassicism was associated with enlightenment and progress, and with Diderot, Voltaire and Anne-Robert Turgot.49 ¨ ss-i Zafer, Mahmud II purged the Empire of ‘useless As was suggested by the U weeds’ and implanted a new organization.50 His architecture is the outward image of the new order. Although the tools for representing enlightenment come from Europe, the works are crowned by the sultan’s tug˘ra, reflecting his ultimate authority. Yet, it should also be stressed that this architecture is much more hybrid than European examples. These works point to more than one style at a time; for example, the baroque corner towers of the Selimiye Barracks. The example of the Nusretiye Mosque (1826) highlights the multilayered references of this style. The Nusretiye Mosque, 1826 Nusretiye is in many ways in continuity with the eighteenth-century mosques referred to as ‘Ottoman Baroque’.51 Kuban states that it has the most baroque profile of all.52 The plan included the mihrab (prayer niche) apse of these baroque mosques, showing how this work is indeed structurally in tandem with Ottoman building types that recently preceded it. Yet, its retention of the domed cube supports the claim that it is also in harmony with Ottoman models from the distant past (Fig. 5). The sultan’s lodge, on the entrance facade of the mosque, resembles two separate apartments to each side, following that of the Beylerbeyi Mosque, but also echoing the Green Mosque at Bursa – therefore, again, in continuity with recent and distant traditions.
Figure 5 Nusretiye Mosque (1826), Tophane, Istanbul. Exterior, entrance facade and sultan’s lodges viewed from street.
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The curving, expressive style of the fountains at the entrance to the courtyard of Nusretiye is in keeping with baroque versions (seen at Laleli, for instance), although fountains had, by then, long been an integral element of Ottoman mosque complexes. The minarets have the same bulbous base seen at Beylerbeyi and Selimiye, but are tall and fluted in the Ottoman classical style. The interior of Nusretiye also shows this complex relationship to recent and past Ottoman buildings. The dome decoration does not depict flamboyant westernized motifs as seen in the apse of Nur-u Osmaniye and dome of Ayazma, but bunched-up floral ornament reminiscent of much earlier Ottoman tiles.53 Yet in the centre the traditional calligraphic roundel is not seen, but the totally new addition of golden acanthus leaves. The calligraphy is an especially interesting feature of Nusretiye. Prominent calligraphy was not seen in the Ottoman baroque aside from Nur-u Osmaniye. Ali Sati draws particular attention to the calligraphy, stating that the celi (script with large scale writing), including the Surre-i Amme of the Koran, was the work of Mustafa Rakım Efendi, teacher of the sultan. He adds that many excellent poems were written, but the favourite of Mahmud II by I˙zzet Efendi was inscribed by Yesarizade.54 The band that circles the prayer hall contains the revolutionary feature of the signature of the calligrapher, again underlining the fusion of tradition and innovation. In the interior of Nusretiye, the relief-carved, gilded religious furniture of Ottoman baroque mosques, their chandeliers, grilles, round-arched windows (Fig. 6) and painted domes are seen. Ali Sati remarked upon the grilles and green stone candlesticks, showing how these decorative aspects of the interior were deemed significant by contemporary observers.55 However, there is a crucial change at Nusretiye: the pool of motifs displayed on the exterior and interior is restricted to give a regulated and coordinated effect. These key motifs include acanthus, pine cones and swags/festoons. They are repeated on the mihrab niche, minber cap, sultan’s lodge, kursi and the entrance to the mosque. These same motifs are duplicated on other works: the garlands that hang from capitals in Nusretiye can be seen in Kumkapı Church, for instance. References to traditional order (as seen in the calligraphy and the domed Ottoman structure), recent usages from the eighteenth century, along with the ‘new order’ of regulated ornament characterized the official style of Mahmud II seen in Nusretiye. The entrance inscription sheds light on the meaning of this style: ‘Toptan Tophane’yi abad kıldı Padis¸ah’ (The sultan developed the entire site of Tophane (the factory for making cannons)).56 Conflating the power of the sultan and the use of this land for a mosque with his new troops and their machinery, this inscription sanctifies the intersection of tradition (religion) and the new order under Mahmud II. The Tug˘ra and Symbols of Sovereignty in the Tanzimat Imperial building works carried out by Karapet Balyan (after the death of Krikor in 1831) for Mahmud II continued to amalgamate European references, local planning
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Figure 6 Nusretiye Mosque (1826), Tophane, Istanbul. Interior, ornate grille of the sultan’s lodge viewed from prayer hall.
types, Ottoman calligraphy and a select vocabulary of ornament (garlands, vine scrolls, acanthus) as seen in works such as Nusretiye. However, during this period, and during the Tanzimat that followed, the tug˘ra became even more omnipresent as the symbol of the sultan. According to M.B.C. Collas ‘[i]t has always fulfilled in Turkey the usage of the fleur-de-lys, the Gallic rooster or the eagle in France, as well as the other emblems of different peoples’.57 When he visited the Dolmabahce Palace, Louis Bunel remarked upon the effect of the tug˘ra: ‘In the middle of the columns, the bas-reliefs, rosettes, and badges, appears surrounded by all the wealth and prestige of this art the cipher of the sultan on its gold on green background.’58 The tug˘ra, and the Ottoman coat of arms or Arma-i Osmani (which was designed by an Italian artist commissioned by Mahmud II),59 became important for communicating power ‘relating to the sacrality of the person of the sultan’.60 Bunel, with his highly attuned visual awareness, recognized this, as well as the crucial combination of the sultan’s tug˘ra with ornament expressing the nature of his power. The Mausoleum of Mahmud II, 1840 The Mausoleum of Mahmud II (Fig. 7), attributed to Karapet Balyan by Armenian sources,61 shows the development of a more formal style that characterizes the rest of the Tanzimat. This style encompasses the display of bold symbols, communicating different aspects of the power of the sultan. This symbolic ornament is combined with the use of an Ottoman structural type. Kuban describes the mausoleum as a new development: ‘Empire Style’.62 Developed in France in the time of Napoleon Bonaparte by his architects Percier and Fontaine, empire style signals to Roman and Egyptian prototypes, with a heavy emphasis on
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military victories. It includes lavish interior decoration that shows a high degree of coordination. It is also an enlightened style (taking its cue from Greece and Rome), in conformity with the objectives of the Napoleonic Code.63 Although the mausoleum is identified as empire style, its relationship to these European works has never been described or analysed in any detail. Its white militaristic and heraldic motifs can be likened to the archetypal empire style monument, the Arc du Carrousel (1807– 8). Parallels can also be drawn between its rounded windows and exterior shapes and those of Les Invalides and Notre-Dame-duBonne-Nouvelle. However, in the Napoleonic Empire style there is a bombast and a reliance on colourful and symbolic paintwork, furniture and materials, alluding to colonial places and activities – for instance, the paintings glorifying French military history in the heavily gilded surrounds of the Galerie des Batailles in Versailles and the polychrome marble of L’e´glise de Madeleine, which simply cannot be seen in this Ottoman work. In comparison to this kind of ostentation, the Mausoleum of Mahmud II has a closer relationship to the austere white interiors of the churches of Palladio, such as Il Redentore, or the neoclassical interior of the Panthe´on (excluding its murals). Therefore, although we can cite the inclusion of empire features, the Mausoleum combines these with other elements to communicate Mahmud II’s particular identity. The entrance to the Mausoleum reflects the artistic references and visual communication of the whole in one small space. A lengthy Ottoman inscription topped with a tug˘ra is placed in an empire-style round-arched entablature. A grille, also of empire style, displays sunbursts issuing from a bouquet of roses, and the door is moulded with further heraldic motifs and militaristic clusters. Traditional Islamic– Ottoman symbols (the bouquet of roses signalling to the magnanimity of the state),64 symbols of the sultan (his tug˘ra) and enlightenment (sunbursts), combined with symbols of military and dynastic power, can immediately be seen. The overlap of these symbols with those used in the churches is shown through the appearance of similar sunbursts in the entrance gate to the Mahmud II Mausoleum (Fig. 8) and on a side altar in Surp Asdvadzadzin Church in Bes¸iktas¸ (Fig. 9). In the Mausoleum there are also strong relationships with Ottoman building traditions. The structure is essentially in keeping with mausoleums, such as those of Su¨leyman and Hu¨rrem Sultan, which were octagons. The fountain next to the Mausoleum is a continuation of examples such as the Naks¸idil Sultan Mausoleum in Fatih (1809). The prominent inscription band, which encircles the interior, along with calligraphic roundels, likewise follows Ottoman forerunners. In contrast, the stucco interior decoration represents a profound departure. Ottoman mausoleums were typically decorated with tiles or paintwork. Instead this interior is akin to a Renaissance villa. Relief stuccowork covers every space. Columns with Corinthian capitals and borders (egg-and-dart, dentil) and round-arched windows and niches line the walls, and coffering fills the dome. The motifs are the most striking component of this interior. They include wreaths and flower heads, shields and roses with sunbursts, horns of plenty and vegetal plumes,
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Figure 7 Mausoleum of Mahmud II (1839 – 41), C¸emberlitas¸, Istanbul. Exterior of mausoleum and cemetery facing onto the Divanyolu.
as well as crossed torches. They are associated with European military and dynastic power, religious enlightenment and Greek and Roman heritage. Yet, when combined with the interior’s Ottoman su¨lu¨s epigraphy and the tug˘ra crowning the entrance, these symbols are united under the authority of the sultan. Therefore they have the effect of referencing Mahmud’s own military might, his engagement in reform and his dynastic pedigree. The dominant motif of sunbursts emerging from bunches of roses also reinforces Mahmud’s role as protector of Islam and religious enlightenment.
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Figure 8 Mausoleum of Mahmud II (1839 –41), C¸emberlitas¸, Istanbul. Entrance gate to mausoleum and cemetery complex with symbolic motifs including sunbursts rising from roses.
Mahmud II’s official style combined an ostensibly European decorative overlay, Ottoman structure and renewal of calligraphy with a bold new pool of symbolic motifs referring to military and religious, as well as reformed and enlightened, authority. During the Tanzimat, imperial architecture turned to new sources of stylistic inspiration under the direction of Nigog˘os and Serkis, who had trained in Paris. However, it would remain essentially rooted to Ottoman building types and to the expression of (reformed) Ottoman sovereign power through a select pool of symbolic motifs.
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Figure 9 Surp Asdvadzadzin Church (1838), Bes¸iktas¸, Istanbul. Baptismal altar in side room, decorated with sunbursts rising from stones.
The Cosmopolitan Culture of the Tanzimat, the Sultans and the Armenians The new stylistic references seen in the imperial architecture of the 1840s– 1870s are not just the result of the European education of the sons of Karapet, but also reflect the changed sociocultural environment of Constantinople in the Tanzimat. The sultan and his court partook (to a rather stage-managed extent) in this cosmopolitan world of shops, cafes, intellectuals and the expansion of the printing press, artists and salons,
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and not only an expanded European presence in the city but the mixing (on some levels) of Muslim and non-Muslim communities.65 European accounts from the time of his reign tell of Abdu¨lmecid’s detailed knowledge of European culture. Destrilles states that he was ‘a man who personifies modern ideas’,66 and who read Paris’s most important organs of the press.67 Gilson comments, ‘[h]e shows, above all, a great liking for the men and institutions of France. He has made a careful study of the French language. . . All the French classical authors are familiar to him, and latterly he caused the Malade Imaginaire and the Bourgeois Gentilhomme to be played before him.’68 Although these European authors were biased by their desire for an alliance during the Crimean War, Ottoman evidence also shows the sultan’s European leanings. For instance, Mu¨hendis Beyker (an engineer named Baker) delivered drawings of the exalted buildings (ebniye-i alisi) of Paris to the sultan in 1851.69 L’Illustration was another European publication that embraced the Ottoman Empire during the 1850s. Although predisposed from the time of its creation to give a positive account of the Empire as part of the drive of the liberal classes to learn about other cultures for ‘the evolution of humanity’,70 it nevertheless sheds genuine light on the elites’ mobility at that time and the networks of artists, intellectuals and flaneurs that made up cosmopolitan society.71 Frequent features on Constantinople in L’Illustration emphasize how much these European societies had in common; one article states: ‘Un danse a` Constantinople comme a` Paris’ (A dance in Constantinople just like in Paris). Descriptions of events, such as the ball on 6 February 1854, evoke the cosmopolitan social life of the Ottoman capital as open to Turkish high functionaries, the society of Pera and chiefs of the communities, including Armenian amiras.72 One article even implies common blood with the leaders of France: ‘Impe´ratrice Jose´phine et la grand me`re d’Abdul Medjid’ (Abdu¨lmecid’s grandmother, Mademoiselle Aimee Dubuc de Rivery, was Creole from Martinique).73 At the centre of Pera’s social life (in which the sultan and his viziers would – at least symbolically – participate) was the Naum Theatre.74 In 1870, Serkis Balyan, along with Sadullah Bey, Hilmi Bey, Mikael Efendi Portakal and Georges Zarifi, was on the committee for a masked ball at the theatre organized under the patronage of Prince Mustafa Pas¸a.75 Res¸id Pas¸a and other prominent individuals were involved with the Gedikpas¸a Theatre of Gu¨llu¨ Agop.76 The Masonic Lodge was an additional setting for interaction between elites, for example Jews, Ottoman– Greeks, Armenians, Ottoman-Turkish bureaucrats and princes, army commanders, diplomats, writers, imams, ‘ulema (doctors of Islamic theology) and leaders of religious orders.77 In the field of literature, Muslim– Ottomans consumed the literature of the other religions, and they read Turkish journals.78 Conversations between visual cultures are seen: synagogues, for instance, display neo-Islamic decoration as used in contemporary mosques.79 Despite the emphasis on his involvement in some of Pera’s activities, Abdu¨lmecid continued to practise the traditional arts of the Muslim ruler,80 and traditional palace
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protocol was retained in the Dolmabahce Palace.81 He studied calligraphy under Mehmet Tahir Efendi, a disciple of Mahmud Celaleddin, and Abdu¨lmecid’s works are in the Ortako¨y and Dolmabahce mosques.82 Under Abdu¨lmecid, calligraphy surged and European models were combined with the traditions of Ottoman illumination.83 Official portraits of Abdu¨lmecid continued to show European imagery, but references to the nature of the sultan’s domestic rule became prominent. One work in the Drottningholm Palace shows the sultan standing on a porch, holding a sword in his left hand, with a majestic view of the city displayed behind him; another, in the Topkapı, shows the sultan, again on a porch, pointing to a map of Ottoman territory.84 Both these portraits communicate that an important part of the sultan’s sovereignty lay in his control over Ottoman land. They depict Abdu¨lmecid with a European appearance (European clothing and making gestures taken from European models) as did the portraiture of Mahmud II. Similarly to the case of his predecessor, some European sources give a positive account of Abdu¨laziz’s reforming sensibility. A French booklet published in 1867 to coincide with his visit to Paris states that the sultan lived in a retreat and studied meditation, and did not have the harem of his inheritance but only one woman, Fatma Sultan.85 M.B.C. Collas calls Abdu¨laziz’s reign ‘the resurrection of the Ottoman Empire’, 86 when the Empire was elevated to the ‘Grands Etats de l’Europe’, and international trade and the development of taste were encouraged.87 British Foreign Office correspondence gives a close-up impression of Abdu¨laziz’s personality. In 1862 the consul notes that ‘he is the only Turk I have yet found who has no objection to employing foreigners and Christians, who considers that to make a clock you must have the clock makers’.88 The consul is particularly impressed that Abdu¨laziz invited a mixed consort to dine with him: ‘The Sultan and his court are evidently Europeanizing and I do not think they will become unpopular in doing so, if they proceed gradually.’89 However, Abdu¨laziz is also seen as naive and insecure: ‘He was evidently nervous and embarrassed and I know that a painful feeling weighs upon him – inasmuch as that he feels his own confined education has not given him the advantages possessed by Princes brought up on better principles.’90 Correspondence about Abdu¨laziz’s visit to Europe in 1867 indicates that the sultan had quite different public and private sides to his character. Although the sultan presented himself as participating in ‘the semi-standardized style’ of a ‘civilized’ monarchy,91 by showing off his naval equipment (‘[t]he Sultan will make the voyage on board his own yacht, the “Sultanie”. The “Jalie” another imperial yacht and the “Osmanieh” an iron-clad steam frigate will be in attendance’92) it is indicated that he was not familiar with the languages or cultures that he was visiting. The correspondence indicates that the trip was masterminded by Fuad Pas¸a and the British officials to show ‘how far the Turks have advanced in Civilization’, that there is ‘little peculiarity in the dress of any of them’, and that they ‘go to dinners, [and] have tea like Europeans’. Abdu¨laziz’s personal inclinations contrasted with this vision: ‘The Sultan will perhaps send quietly a cook – and a couple of horses he is accustomed to ride.’93
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The naivety of the sultan is exaggerated by the author of this correspondence, who evidently does not view the sultan as an equal, capable of participating in European civilization. In fact, Abdu¨laziz employed portraitists and photographers to a greater extent than his predecessors, and evidence suggests he took a direct interest in these activities rather than letting Fuad Pas¸a engineer them on his behalf. The Manas family94 and Ayvazovski95 carried out imperial portraiture for Abdu¨laziz, and an Armenian family of photographers to the Ottoman court, Abdullah Fre`res, took charge of the domestic and international image of the sultan and his Empire.96 Abdu¨laziz drafted the composition of his painting commissions; the Polish National Museum contains sketches for the pictures he commissioned from Chlebowski.97 Abdu¨laziz’s reign saw the involvement of Ottoman delegations in international expositions. These delegations were intended to increase trade in Ottoman goods, and simultaneously aimed to ‘present a respectable profile’98 and a ‘civilized profile’ on the international stage.99 Salaheddin Bey, head commissioner for the delegation to the 1867 exposition,100 wished to present the Ottoman Empire within the history of civilization. He likened Abdu¨laziz’s visit to the exhibition to Harun al-Rashid sending presents to the ‘greatest monarch of the Occident’,101 underlining a renewed attention to the Empire’s traditional identity. An emphasis on Ottoman traditions is also seen in two books produced for the 1873 Vienna Exposition: Usul-u Mimari-i Osmani (The Rules of Ottoman Architecture)102 and Elbise-i Osmani (Les Costumes Populaires En Turquie en 1873).103 The Elbise provides a romantic depiction of each region of the Empire and its heritage, focusing on the value of traditional goods. In the Elbise, costume or le costume is argued to be superior to garment (le veˆtement).104 It states that ‘every object made in Turkey, is, more or less, a work of art. An embroidered skirt is worth a board of sculpted marble, the ceiling of a palace, a weapon.’105 In contrast to these ‘works of art’ are the ‘degenerate’ products made in Manchester for export to the Orient.106 The Usul emphasizes the value of Ottoman architecture from the first capital of Bursa and the need to revive the traditions of that period. It criticizes eighteenthcentury works such as the Nur-u Osmaniye and Laleli as ‘completely changing and ruining the particularity and beauty of Ottoman architecture’ by ‘bringing architects and engineers from France’.107 The traditions of architects like Sinan were lost as Armenian architects such as Rafael and his students replaced them.108 In contrast to this previous period of decay of Ottoman architecture, Abdu¨laziz is portrayed as a patron not only of technological progress but also of a revival of traditional crafts: ‘the unique styles of original Ottoman architecture have been redeveloped and restored to the highest level. In that respect his reign marks the beginning of the renewed development of Ottoman architecture.’109 Commentators characterize the Usul and Elbise as proto-national,110 as ‘counternarratives against British and French Orientalistic discourses’111 and as an ‘officially endorsed program of rediscovery and revival’.112 The Balyans’ contemporary architectural works are not seen as part of this revival but are dismissed as Orientalist creations that provoked proto-national developments.
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However, there is no shortage of evidence that Armenians embraced Ottomanism during the cosmopolitan environment of the Tanzimat.113 Not only were they central members of organizations such as the Naum Theatre and the Masonic Lodge, but they also devised cultural activities to express their particular devotion to the Ottoman Empire and its traditions. The foremost example of this phenomenon is the Oriental and Turkish Museum in London, established by C. Oscanyan and Serovpe Aznavur in 1854, which was an exhibition of Ottoman daily life and traditions to encourage trade and improve the international image of the Empire.114 Armenians promoted Ottomanism through their involvement in the international expositions, an involvement which has also been minimized by interpretations of these delegations as proto-national acts. Among these Ottomanist Armenians were Bog˘os S¸as¸iyan, member of the eminent family of physicians, who was responsible for drawings for the Usul, and Krikor Ko¨ceog˘lu, who provided assistance during the production of the Usul and Elbise.115 Ko¨ceog˘lu, educated at the E´cole Muradian in Paris, engaged in a multifaceted promotion of traditional Ottoman crafts and identity: he was an Orientalist painter and was responsible for the revival of Kufic script late in nineteenth-century Constantinople through his work on the Kızıltoprak Mosque.116 Beyond the general participation of Armenians in activities for the promotion of Ottomanism, professional connections between Serkis Balyan, his imperial works and the authors of the Usul indicate that he shared their ideas on the Ottoman Renaissance in the 1870s. Pietro Montani was painter of the Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque117 and worked on the C¸ırag˘an Palace as ‘chief painter’.118 Euge`ne Maillard submitted a petition with Saverio Calleja (Savriyo Kalfa) to the Grand Vizier Safvet Pas¸a,119 requesting payment for work on the Aziziye Mosque and Akaretler. These connections show that the architectural productions of Abdu¨laziz’s reign created by Serkis Balyan and his team should be viewed as representative of part of this deliberate drive for an Ottoman Renaissance, rather than Orientalist pastiches with no local meaning. The vakıfname (deed of endowment) of the Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque120 sheds light on the eclectic culture of the Tanzimat in Abdu¨laziz’s reign. The deed enumerates the goods endowed to the foundation, including European luxury items, such as a batterie de cuisine, silver services, crystal (perhaps from Bohemia) and Meissen cups and saucers (saksonyakarı), as well as Ottoman goods, such as Go¨rdes prayer rugs and madder-dyed (ko¨k boyalı) Us¸ak carpets. The content of the library listed in the deed confirms this vision of the eclectic culture of the sultan and his mother. The library included a collection of manuscripts spanning Qurans, prayer books, exegesis, mysticism, classical Arab and Persian histories, which were kept along with printed books including the first modern grammar of the Ottoman language, Kava’id-i Osmaniye, and a geographical treatise, Risal-i Cografiya, a work on the chemistry of medicine, Kimiya-i Tibbi, and a treatise on major fortifications, Usul-i I˙stihkamat-ı Cesime. Abdu¨lmecid’s and Abdu¨laziz’s varied tastes and cultural activities are shown in their building activities during the Tanzimat. Their building programmes show an attention to traditional bases of the sultan’s identity and sources of authority, but also to innovations made necessary by the reforms and the social and cultural changes of the
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Tanzimat. These building activities show how Abdu¨lmecid’s and Abdu¨laziz’s inclinations towards ‘old’ and ‘new’, ‘East’ and ‘West’ were formalized into a style reflecting an Ottoman Renaissance, which took different models during their respective reigns. Building in the Tanzimat and Patronage of Old and New During Abdu¨lmecid’s time, schools, factories, hospitals and barracks were built from the 1840s. The appearance of these new Ottoman institutions was highly systematized. They have long lateral facades, Greek temple entrances with steps leading to a portico, and a pediment supported by columns. Decoration included the tug˘ra, vegetal ornament, acanthus, wreaths, garlands, flower heads, urns or sunrays. These buildings tended to use the same plans (often with an interior courtyard) and structural elements (gabled roof, high substructure and dramatic staircase).121 Like their French equivalents, these institutional buildings were modelled on archetypal palatial structures.122 The Greek temple facade was used in Europe during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries by architects who viewed it as an expression of ‘a moment of harmony and perfection on a longer developmental continuum’.123 Leroy, for instance, ‘drew on John Locke’s theory of human sensations to argue for universal laws of human response to the environment as a constant in a world of continual historical evolution’.124 However, the architect of these systematized Ottoman institutional structures, Karapet Balyan, combined neoclassical architectural models with the height of Renaissance architecture. He added extravagant curving stairways following baroque prototypes, and prominently displayed Ottoman inscriptions and tug˘ra. The institutions included military facilities, such as Gu¨mu¨s¸suyu Barracks (1847, 1857–62)125 and Kuleli Cavalry Barracks (1843),126 as well as educational institutions for the elites,127 such as the War College in Pangaltı, rebuilt in 1862,128 the Imperial Engineering School in Hasko¨y, rebuilt in 1850,129 and the Imperial Medical School.130 There were also factories, such as the Hereke textile mill (1843),131 the Beykoz leather factory (1842), the Zeytinburnu iron and steel mill (1845) and the Izmit broadcloth mill (1842).132 These new Tanzimat institutions were built in prominent locations and engaged in dialogue with the populations and historic buildings of the city, just as the Su¨leymaniye did with Haghia Sophia. They were sited on hills and promontories, but also drew attention to themselves by the Parisian method of public squares.133 The British Consul in Constantinople notes that 600 tons of machinery was imported from England to the factories for ‘Woolen Cloth, Cotton Cloth or plain Muslin, Cotton twist, silk goods and Gunpowder and for Iron founding’ between 1843 and 1844. The consul adds that these factories, intended to produce goods for the Ottoman army and navy, would not compete with imported wares.134 Despite containing European machinery, these buildings were identified as Ottoman state institutions by their unified architectural style. The 1840s and 1850s saw the construction of traditional representations of the sultan’s power: palaces, pavilions and mosques. In particular, there was attention to
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palace building: the Dolmabahce Palace (completed in 1856, Plates 4 – 8)135 became the centre of Ottoman court life. There were also smaller palaces such as Adile Sultan Palace in Validebag˘ (1853),136 Ihlamur Pavilion (1848– 53, Plate 9),137 Cemile Sultan and Mu¨nire Sultan palaces in Salıpazarı (1855),138 Go¨ksu/Ku¨cu¨ksu Pavilion (1856, Plates 10 – 11),139 and Beykoz Pavilion (completed under Abdu¨laziz in 1867).140 The importance of these palaces and pavilions in the age of newspapers, journals, lithography and photography was tremendous. In the latter half of the nineteenth century, Europe became transfixed by new ‘spectacles of progress’, whether the Great Expositions, the opening of new hotels, department stores, the Ope´ra, the Gare de L’Est, or the regularization projects of Baron Haussmann.141 The Dolmabahce Palace of Abdu¨lmecid was one such spectacle that served as the setting for lavish balls, and was frequently pictured on the cover of Le Monde Illustre´. It allowed the sultan to appropriate the new nineteenth-century social and cultural life in the service of his sovereignty. Yet it also had an important diplomatic function: providing a first impression to foreign leaders and serving as the setting for international negotiations, it announced that the Ottoman Empire had arrived at the Concert of Europe.142 Showing the contemporary continuation of this role is the fact that international negotiations relating to the Middle East are commonly held at Dolmabahce. Although individual European features can be easily identified in these Ottoman palaces and pavilions, the effect of these Ottoman works, as a whole work of architecture, is far removed from any particular European example such as Versailles, Louvre, d’Orsay or Luxembourg. The Ottoman palaces and pavilions incorporated the regularized masonry facades of European works, in contrast to the kiosks of the Topkapı, but they were covered with motifs carved in high and expressive relief, exhibiting references that would not be seen together on any contemporary European work.143 Encompassing Roman, Greek, neoclassical, empire, baroque, Renaissance and even Orientalist motifs and styles, the Ottoman works eschew the decorum of the Beaux Arts.144 The plans of these Ottoman palaces and pavilions departed even further from contemporary European palatial structures. As Sedat Hakkı Eldem noted, they were fundamentally based around the sofa concept of interior space, a long-held characteristic of Ottoman– Turkish residential architecture.145 Sultan Abdu¨lmecid devoted himself to mosque-building on an unprecedented level. He constructed five mosques in the capital: Mecidiye at C¸ırag˘an (1848, Plates 12 – 13) and Hırka-i S¸erif Mosque (1848, Plates 14– 16), Dolmabahce Mosque (completed in 1853– 54, Plates 17 – 21),146 Ortako¨y (constructed from 1848 until 1854– 5, Plates 22– 4) and Tes¸vikiye Mosque (rebuilt in 1853).147 Mosque-building had a long significance as ‘the ultimate symbol of sultanic and Caliphal legitimacy’.148 The entrance inscription on the Ortako¨y Mosque testifies to the continuing role of these Tanzimat-period mosques as statements of the ruler’s piety: The endeavour (of the concern for beneficial pious foundations) of Abdu¨lmecid Khan (the sovereign). He raised the unequalled Ortako¨y Mosque.149
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The new mosques also stimulated urban development. Many were situated along the Bosphorus in popular regions like Ortako¨y150 and newly developed zones such as Tes¸vikiye.151 This was in contrast to the historic ceremonial city centres where the mosques of the past were concentrated. Through building mosques in these new fashionable neighbourhoods, Abdu¨lmecid was appropriating their social and commercial life to defend his sovereignty, as is indicated by the inscription: ‘A work of the Mecidiye Pious Foundations (of Abdu¨lmecid) of the new neighbourhood of Tes¸vikiye.’152 A further function of these mosques was to accommodate the needs of the sultan and his court, which had moved to the new Bosphorus-side palaces. The inscription on the Mecidiye Mosque shows this: His Excellency Abdu¨lmecid Khan (the sovereign) rendered the building of this exalted mosque, the date of the construction of the building was embellished by Ziver, an excellent and exalted mosque was built in the immediate vicinity of the palace which had been built in the reign of justice of the sultanate of the khan (Abdu¨lmecid), a man of authority and prosperity. 153 The Topkapı Palace, the former residence of the Ottoman sultans, was situated on the historic peninsula that contained a large number of mosques that were used for Friday prayers (Selamlık). In contrast, the newly developed Bosphorus region had few mosques that could fill this role.154 The Selamlık had become an increasingly important legitimation strategy in the nineteenth century. Part of the sultan’s image-making, the ritual encouraged the cult of the emperor.155 Local crowds gathered to watch the sultan arrive at the mosque (as depicted in many nineteenth-century paintings). This was a spectacle not just for the Ottoman population, but also for international visitors who, in their travellers’ accounts, always noted witnessing the Selamlık.156 The function of the new mosques as palace appendages is reflected in their appearance. Imperial apartments are dominating elements of the entrance facades and are often larger than the prayer hall space.157 As the sultan spent a considerable amount of time in the imperial apartments during the Selamlık they were heavily furnished and ornamented. The content is documented by foundation deeds, such as that of Pertevniyal Valide Sultan from the following reign. The interior and exterior decoration of the mosques of Abdu¨lmecid closely follows the motifs, techniques, materials and styles of his palaces and pavilions: carved ornament, polychrome marble, trompe l’oeil and stucco, signalling to Roman, Greek, Renaissance, baroque, empire, Orientalist and other styles. The plans nevertheless adhered to the domed cube, keeping them essentially rooted to traditional architecture. Under Abdu¨laziz, new building types were constructed in ever-increasing numbers. They included the Mecidiye Barracks rebuilt in 1863–4,158 apartment buildings such as the Akaretler (built in the late 1870s) and police stations such as that in C¸ırag˘an. These new building types, similarly to the institutional structures of Abdu¨lmecid’s time, consisted of lateral buildings with neoclassical facades, a central pediment and tug˘ra.
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Ministry headquarters were the most conspicuous additions to the urban landscape, most notably the Bahriye Nezareti (Naval Ministry) in Kasımpas¸a, built 1865 – 9,159 and the Harbiye Nezareti (Ministry of War) in Beyazid Square, built 1864.160 The Naval Ministry contains many architectural and decorative echoes of the C¸ırag˘an and Beylerbeyi palaces. The axial plan based around a central roofed courtyard is a familiar feature, as well as Moorish and Arabian ornament (after the designs of Owen Jones) interspersed with militaristic clusters, vignettes of boats and floral bouquets. The close relationship between the appearance of these ministries and the palaces shows how these new organs of the Ottoman state were trying to establish, as Foucault states, ‘[a] continuity, in both an upward and a downward direction’ between the power of the prince and the power of government.161 Palaces and pavilions remained the most luxurious expressions of imperial style under Abdu¨laziz. Many were constructed during the 1860s and 1870s: Beylerbeyi (completed in 1864),162 C¸ırag˘an (built 1864 –71),163 pavilions in the Yıldız Park (1861),164 Ayazag˘a Kasrı in Maslak (1866) and Adile Sultan Sarayı (1876) in Kandilli. Hunting lodges were built in Validebag˘ and Ayazag˘a. The Beylerbeyi and C¸ırag˘an palaces were summer residences for the sultan and the setting for receiving foreign dignitaries, such as Empress Eugenie, wife of Napoleon III, in 1869.165 Countless nineteenth-century photographs show the palaces’ distinctive facades. Such photographs, most notably those produced by Abdu¨laziz’s court photographers Abdullah Fre`res, were used to represent the Empire on an international level: they decorated the model coffee shop and Turkish villa in the 1867 Paris exposition.166 This official use of photography, again, shows how the sultan appropriated an activity of European origin in the service of his image. This continued under Abdu¨lhamid II, whose photograph album, including many images of the palaces, was sent to foreign powers, remaining in the British Library and Library of Congress.167 The palaces of Abdu¨laziz continued to follow the sofa arrangement. This jutting plan was hidden within a long regularized masonry facade along the Bosphorus.168 The decoration was even more eclectic than that at Dolmabahce and was of Islamic revivalist styles (predominantly the aforementioned Moorish and Arabian styles) interspersed with European (Renaissance and baroque), Gothic, Ottoman– Turkish elements and picturesque components. Only two imperial mosques were built during the reign of Abdu¨laziz: Kag˘ıthane, built in 1862 (Plates 25 and 26), and Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque in Aksaray, completed in 1872. Ottoman documents concerning a colossal mosque complex, Aziziye, to be built in Macka show how the sultan continued to regard mosquebuilding as central to the defence of his authority. The Aziziye was never built due to the financial turmoil at the end of Abdu¨laziz’s reign.169 The mosques, like the palaces, show the inclusion of more prominent neo-Islamic and neo-Ottoman elements. Kag˘ıthane Mosque has a mihrab which is a reference to the Green Mosque of Bursa, and a hooded minaret of neo-Islamic type. Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque also contains echoes of Bursa and several further Islamic styles. Both
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mosques combine these neo-Ottoman and neo-Islamic features with neoclassical, neoRenaissance and Gothic elements so that the effect of the whole is an amalgam of references.
An Official Style in the Imperial Architecture of the Tanzimat The repetition of architectural and decorative elements to form an official style in Islamic imperial architecture, identified by Flood in the architecture of the Umayyads for instance,170 can be seen in the works of the Tanzimat to a degree approaching mass production. It is possible to identify repetition on all aspects of these Ottoman imperial buildings from plan types to facades, structural elements, motifs and materials. Although this could be credited to the employment of the same craftsmen who repeat similar types on different buildings, the representation of the same motifs in different techniques and materials indicates that these schemes were centrally planned. The use of the same motifs, colours and styles on several components of a single work (mihrab, candlesticks and chandelier, for instance) reveals a new attention to coordination. Frequent symbolic references to the sultan’s authority suggest that this style was intended to communicate meaning. The official style’s decorative content changed in Abdu¨laziz’s reign, moving from predominant references to European styles such as those of Imperial Rome and Renaissance Venice, to a neo-Islamic, Ottoman and Gothic emphasis in the 1860s and 1870s. However, many of the structural features, materials, motifs, approaches to ornament, as well as the symbolic motifs evoking sultanic authority, remained the same. Moreover, the architectural structures remained largely unchanged, with the reuse of traditional Ottoman plans encased in regularized masonry facades. The continuity in the styles of the reigns of Abdu¨lmecid and Abdu¨laziz is significant because it corrects Ersoy’s opinion that there was a change in approach only in the 1870s, a change that marked a shift to revivalism.171 The Systematization of Plan Types The most important aspect of the official style was the plan because of the symbolic value of structure over motif.172 It is therefore very significant that all plans used for palaces, pavilions and imperial mosques built during the Tanzimat show a return to structural simplicity, based on much earlier models. Palaces and pavilions follow the sofa plan of residential architecture, whereas mosques follow the domed cube style. This relative structural conservatism is particularly striking in the case of the mosques, because recent innovations included the curved courtyard of the Nur-u Osmaniye and the mihrab apse, which were then discarded in favour of the most basic structure used by the Ottomans at Alaadin Bey Mosque in Bursa (1334) and Firuzag˘a Mosque in Constantinople (1450). The domed cube structure was used in the neo-Ottoman works of Kemaleddin Bey, showing the continued perception of it as a pure Ottoman plan.173
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New Tanzimat building types are characterized by the systematized usage of the same plans that incorporate an interior courtyard. Although these plans are seen in European barracks and educational buildings, they are also associated with Ottoman tradition. For example, a large courtyard with a fountain as an integral element of its structure is the historical style of mosques. An Ottoman Core within a Regularized Masonry Facade Palaces and pavilions built during the Tanzimat display regularized masonry facades that follow the model of the Old C¸ırag˘an Palace from the reign of Mahmud II, which was fundamentally different to the separate kiosks seen at Topkapı. Allom drew attention to this change in 1850 as ‘an example of Corinthian architecture, remarkable among the tinted picturesque combination of styles of Asia and of Eastern Europe’.174 Nerval wrote during his visit of 1842 that Old C¸ırag˘an Palace was ‘constructed entirely in the Greek style and painted with white oils; the grilles are golden’.175 The continuous facade that followed Greek models concealed the use of the traditional sofa plan for the interior arrangement of rooms. In the case of the Dolmabahce Palace, the structure consists of a series of sofas and long narrow corridors, as well as the central domed Audience Hall. None of this can be perceived from the seaside facade. Like the Dolmabahce Palace, the C¸ırag˘an and Beylerbeyi palaces encase their sofa structure within a regularized masonry facade that lines the Bosphorus. As Krikor Odian described, these facades project ‘a clear horizon’ (although they provide a space for the imagination of the architect to fly freely, as he also stated).176 These palaces were built to be observed from the sea, like the palazzos of Venice vying for the attention of the passing viewers on the Grand Canal. Tanzimat mosque facades also show a surprising degree of uniformity in their outlines. Their fenestration is most often dominated by a trio of centrally placed windows. In the Mecidiye and Kag˘ıthane Mosques a longer central window gives a vertical emphasis, whereas on Ortako¨y and Tes¸vikiye the three large Palladian windows are the same size. The facade of the Dolmabahce Mosque is distinctive for its wheel windows. The imperial apartments of mosques show considerable continuity: identical structures, attached to the sides of the mosque, with identical windows and pediments are seen in the Ortako¨y and Kag˘ıthane. Although slightly different in the Dolmabahce, Mecidiye and Tes¸vikiye Mosques, the apartments are all positioned on the entrance facades and decoration differentiates them from the mosques. In the Ortako¨y, Tes¸vikiye, Mecidiye, Kag˘ıthane and Pertevniyal Valide Mosques, the differentiation is coloured paintwork. In the Dolmabahce Palace, the harem facade is set apart and painted pink with white outlines. The side facades of the Renaissance-period Scuola Grande San Rocco in Venice (1535) similarly have coloured paintwork that distinguishes them from the rest of the structure.
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Imposing Entrance Gates and Entablatures Topped by the Tug˘ra In addition to their regularized facades, these Tanzimat palaces and pavilions all have as part of their entrance bay a gabled entablature topped by a tug˘ra. This is dominated by a raised entrance in the manner of a Greek temple in Dolmabahce Palace and institutional structures (Fig. 10). The triumphal arches of the Dolmabahce Palace are imposing entrance gates. In picturesque form the entrance archway can be seen in the Go¨ksu and Ihlamur Pavilions, where the entrances are stone-carved with bijou white iron grilles. Under Abdu¨laziz, the entrance gates to the C¸ırag˘an are monumental in size but have a neoIslamic decorative overlay. Abdu¨lmecid’s and Abdu¨laziz’s mosques have ceremonial entrances that vary in their scale and in the content of their ornament. In the Mecidiye Mosque in C¸ırag˘an (Fig. 11) the entrance is built into an Italianate-style portico with an inscription and tug˘ra, whereas in the Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque (Fig. 12) there are several entrances in neo-Islamic styles but they are still adorned with an Ottoman inscription and tug˘ra. Imposing ceremonial entrances can be seen in Ottoman architecture of the classical period, most notably at the Topkapı, and in mosque complexes such as Su¨leymaniye. In the Tanzimat the use of ceremonial entrances explicitly followed European models such as the triumphal arch of the Arc du Carrousel. The use of these European forms was nevertheless always localized through the presence of an Ottoman inscription and tug˘ra. Reuse of Structural Elements as a Reflection of a Functionalist Approach The same decorative aspects and structural forms occur repeatedly on Tanzimat imperial works, these elements are reused again and again on different buildings. The more ornamental of these features include carved balustrades on the side facades of the Go¨ksu and Ihlamur pavilions and on the rooftops lending height to the Dolmabahce Palace.
Figure 10 Dolmabahce Palace (1856), Bes¸iktas¸, Istanbul. Entrance facade topped by pediment and tug˘ra.
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Figure 11 Mecidiye Mosque (1848), C¸ırag˘an, Istanbul. Italianate-style entrance to courtyard with tug˘ra and inscription.
Raised staircases, for example in monumental structures such as the Dolmabahce Palace, draw attention to the central Greek temple entrance. The form of the imperial staircase (where the staircase is divided into two sides) is used widely, on interiors and exteriors, palaces and mosques. In the Go¨ksu and Ihlamur pavilions and the Ortako¨y Mosque the stairways are playfully curved. These curved staircases of the Ihlamur and Go¨ksu pavilions also incorporate fountains with identical carved motifs. In the C¸ırag˘an Palace of Abdu¨laziz the raised staircases are carved with neo-Islamic interlocking stars.
Figure 12 Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque (1872), Aksaray, Istanbul. Neo-Islamic entrance to mosque complex from Divanyolu, adorned with tug˘ra and inscription.
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Roofing systems from the past are identifiable, such as the gabled roof concealing the dome of the Surp Asdvadzadzin Church in Bes¸iktas¸ and the Audience Hall of the Dolmabahce Palace. Styles applied to entire architectural elements are repeated on different foundations, for instance the Corinthian-style minarets of the Dolmabahce and Ortako¨y mosques, and the hooded minarets of the Mecidiye, Kag˘ıthane and Aziziye (Konya) Mosques. Bearing in mind the curriculum of the E´cole Centrale during Serkis Balyan’s education there, it can be argued that his reuse of architectural elements reflected that functionalist education under Mary. The course included the teaching of individual features such as stairways, so it is quite possible that this method was reflected in the reuse of these isolated components in different settings. On the level of meaning, these reused structural features reinforced certain messages about the sultan; for instance, the use of an imperial staircase on a mosque, palace or school communicated the unparalleled magnificence of the sovereign. Materials and Techniques: Continuity in Approach to Design and Efficiency Both systematized structural types and the use of materials and techniques of decoration were repeated in Tanzimat-period works. Mosques, palaces, pavilions and institutional buildings were constructed from materials chosen for their luxurious appearance. The combination of materials in distinctive colours and textures endowed these buildings with a powerful sensory effect. Yet, there was a hierarchical usage for specific parts of the decoration to control this and keep costs to a minimum. All was not as it would seem to a casual observer. Although structures were made of rough stone and brick, exteriors were faced with high-quality Malta stone of a fine creamy appearance. Staircases and other important elements were the only features made from white Marmara marble. Scagliola (ersatz marble) was used on side walls instead of polychrome marble, for example in the Ortako¨y and Dolmabahce Mosques and the Dolamabahce Palace. The use of scagliola was widespread in Abdu¨laziz’s palaces (Plate 27), but woodwork in neo-Islamic patterns was frequently applied to parquet flooring, doors and wall coverings (Plate 28). The technique of mother-of-pearl inlay, uncommon in the postclassical period, was also reintroduced, with Kufic (a type of calligraphic script rarely seen in Ottoman Constantinople) decorating chairs in the Beylerbeyi Palace. Both of these techniques were used alongside neo-Islamic designs, showing the shift in the representation of the sovereign as caliph. Only the most important elements of furniture in the buildings of the Tanzimat were adorned with luxurious materials. Fireplaces were made of polychrome marble and porphyry, like those of the finest palaces of Europe such as Versailles. In the mosques, luxurious marble and porphyry was reserved for religious furniture (mihrab, minber and kursi). Marble was used on showpieces such as the interior pool of the Beylerbeyi Palace. Favoured techniques were repeatedly used on imperial buildings. Stone carving in relief dominated exterior decoration. Although the mosques of Bursa included carved stone, those of Constantinople largely eschewed exterior ornament. In the Tanzimat,
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carving was used to an unprecedented degree in the interiors, for instance on the polychrome marble religious furniture of the mosques or in the alabaster hamam of the Dolmabahce Palace. On the works of Abdu¨laziz, carving is in lower relief and less expressive than on the works of Abdu¨lmecid. This carving depicts different motifs, and shows the reorientation of Abdu¨laziz towards a heavier Islamic emphasis in his selfpresentation. The use of trompe l’oeil paintwork was an innovation in the interior decoration of Abdu¨lmecid’s reign. Earlier works show small references towards trompe l’oeil, such as curtains depicted in the pendentives of the Ayazma Mosque. The works of Abdu¨lmecid were the first to include trompe l’oeil in a sophisticated style equivalent to European masterpieces of the Renaissance and baroque, such as La Rotonda in Vicenza or the chapel of the Palace of Versailles. The level of sophistication suggests that specialists in this technique were employed. Trompe l’oeil was used in Abdu¨laziz’s period only on the Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque (Plate 29), with two-dimensional neo-Islamic patterns based on Owen Jones’ Moorish and Arabian styles more generally used. Neo-Islamic patterns were accompanied by panels of Ottoman su¨lu¨s calligraphy, neither of which were seen in the palaces of Abdu¨lmecid. Other ceilings were adorned with elaborate stucco reminiscent of Renaissance interiors, as in the Hırka-i S¸erif and Mecidiye mosques, or with floral painted designs, such as in Tes¸vikiye. Earlier works such as the Mausoleum of Mahmud II and the Bes¸iktas¸ Church have stucco domes, but the heraldic emphasis of their decoration was replaced in that of the mosques with vegetal and palmette motifs. Repetition of Motifs: Building an Iconography of the Tanzimat The replication of motifs across different building types during the Tanzimat is the most obvious indication of the formulation of an official style. Motifs of a generic type can be seen as isolated images, as well as within patterns as borders, cartouches and coffering. The majority of the repeated motifs are neoclassical with a focus on the Corinthian order. A common example is the flower head, seen in the churches of the 1830s, such as in the painted stucco coffering of the apse dome of Surp Asdvadzadzin in Bes¸iktas¸. It is carved on the exterior of the drum of the Ortako¨y Mosque and in an identical painted border on the interior of the drum of the Audience Hall of the Dolmabahce Palace. Further generic motifs on interiors and exteriors include coffering, palmettes, egg-anddart and dentil. Patterns are repeated across building types. For instance, panelling carved with diamonds and circles occurs on the exterior of the Tes¸vikiye and the Ortako¨y and the interior of the Kag˘ıthane mosques. Identical panels are seen on Renaissance works, such as the facade of the Scuola Grande San Rocco in Venice (1535), but they were also popular in baroque and empire styles. Cross-hatching is used on the exteriors of the Ihlamur Pavilion and the Ortako¨y Mosque.
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Combinations of motifs are repeated to create the same elegant compositions. Garlands with acanthus leaves and ribbons are seen in the marble carving in the Bes¸iktas¸ and Galata churches. This grouping is repeated in the religious furniture in the Hırka-i S¸erif Mosque and also on the exterior carving of the Dolmabahce Palace. Motifs that could be regarded as Christian are used on palaces and mosques. Depictions of wheat appear in the stucco of the Bes¸iktas¸ Church and are carved onto the side of the marble minber of the Dolmabahce Mosque (in the church they signal to the Body of Christ). Grapevines adorn the doors to the Galata Church, the side altars of the Kumkapı Church and also the candlesticks of the Hırka-i S¸erif Mosque, and are carved on the exterior of the Dolmabahce Palace and Go¨ksu Pavilion (in the church they signal to the Blood of Christ). Vegetal motifs in vertical compositions, including prominent palmettes, cover the stucco domes of the Mecidiye and Hırka-i S¸erif Mosques and are carved into the alabaster hamam of the Dolmabahce Palace and the marble fountain of the Go¨ksu Pavilion. They resemble the vegetation emerging from vases seen in Owen Jones’ Renaissance-style patterns and Renaissance interiors such as that depicted in The Birth of the Virgin by Ghirlandaio. A group of motifs has emblematic character. One example is the baroque brooch. This motif consists of a central space or cartouche where a monogram might be displayed.177 In the Ottoman context, the cartouche of the brooch is left empty. These brooches are seen in the painted wall decoration of the Dolmabahce Mosque and in the upper walls of the Dolmabahce Palace Audience Hall. The bunch of roses is another emblematic motif seen in the works of the Tanzimat. A bunch of roses in an urn occurs in the Hırka-i S¸erif Mosque, the Dolmabahce Palace and the Go¨ksu Pavilion. Roses signal to the Mother of God in the churches, but in the palaces refer to the magnanimity of the state. Yet, similar floral motifs were a generic motif seen throughout elite residential architecture in Europe, for instance the eighteenth-century period rooms now in the Hoˆtel Carnavalet, Paris. Another widely used, symbolic, European motif seen in Ottoman architecture of the Tanzimat is sunrays or sunbursts. These refer to the Divine in the churches. In the Bes¸iktas¸ Church, sunrays issue from the all-seeing eye and from stones, signalling to the resurrection. Sunrays extend from roses in the Mausoleum of Mahmud II. They adorn the sultan’s tug˘ra, showing, even more explicitly, how the iconography of the Armenian churches took on European symbols – which then, in turn, were appropriated for imperial use. The most striking features are motifs that refer to sovereign power. The foremost among these was the sultan’s tug˘ra, repeated across the palaces and pavilions of the Tanzimat, even on items of furniture. Other emblems of sovereign power include militaristic clusters seen during the reign of Mahmud II, vistas of Constantinople painted in cartouches, depictions of crowns and wreaths, European instruments and scrolls of paper (perhaps referring to the reform bills or legal code). Motifs repeated on the imperial buildings of Abdu¨laziz include a change of emphasis to neo-Ottoman elements used in the Bursa period, such as blind arches seen in the
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C¸ırag˘an Palace and the Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque. Gothic touches are identifiable in the windows and grilles of the Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque and C¸ırag˘an Palace. Moorish and Arabian schemes are painted on the ceilings of the C¸ırag˘an and Beylerbeyi Palaces, and also referenced on the furniture. A Mughal onion dome tops the minber in the Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque (Plate 30). Neo-Islamic capitals are used in the C¸ırag˘an Palace and the Beylerbeyi Palace. A neo-Ottoman mihrab, which is a copy of that in the Green Mosque of Bursa, is seen in the Kag˘ıthane Mosque (Fig. 13). The same stock of symbolic motifs employed in the reign of Abdu¨lmecid can be seen in Abdu¨laziz’s reign. The urn filled with roses continues to be used, for instance in the dome of the Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque. Bouquets of roses and military motifs adorn the ceilings of the Beylerbeyi Palace, as well as those of the Naval Ministry. Coordination of Elements A degree of coordination and unity of interior design can be identified in these works of Abdu¨lmecid and which is continued in those of Abdu¨laziz. This approach to design was prevalent in France in the time of the empire-style architects Percier and Fontaine. Experienced as furniture designers, they coordinated all aspects of the interiors of their works. This synchronization is seen especially clearly in the mosques of the period. For instance, in Mecidiye Mosque, candlesticks and chandeliers are decorated with the same vegetal motifs, and religious furniture is carved with motifs in polychrome marble that match those in the stucco of the ceiling (Plates 12 and 13). This coordination is also seen in Hırka-i S¸erif, Dolmabahce and Ortako¨y Mosques. In the palaces and pavilions the decoration is more diffuse, yet motifs repeated on different items, giving the impression of one central designer coordinating the whole, are identifiable. Garlands carved in stone on the entrance gates are depicted in paintwork on the interior, for instance. Entire elements of decoration duplicated on different buildings, for instance the ceilings executed to order by Charles Se´chan for the Dolmabahce Palace (Plate 8) and Go¨ksu Pavilion (Plate 11), also show the same coordination. That the designs of these ceilings are very similar suggests that Karapet and Nigog˘os Balyan ordered this from Se´chan, and intended the decoration schemes of their palaces and pavilions to be repetitive. Using the Dolmabahce Palace and Mosque of the reign of Abdu¨lmecid and then the Beylerbeyi Palace and Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque of Abdu¨laziz, the content and meaning of each official style will be examined. The Dolmabahce Palace and Mosque: the Official Style of Abdu¨lmecid The Dolmabahce Palace and Mosque, despite having ‘European’ features such as the triumphal arch and wheel windows, do not resemble any contemporary European work. They are removed from both the empire style of the Arc du Carrousel (1807– 8), and the eclecticism of the Ope´ra of Garnier (1860– 75). Instead, these Ottoman works combine European styles, motifs and techniques, which are grounded through their application to local Ottoman structures. Given Krikor Odian’s statement that Nigog˘os Balyan was an adherent of the school of ‘Revival/Renaissance’,178 the Dolmabahce can
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Figure 13 Kag˘ıthane/ C¸ag˘layan Mosque (1862), Istanbul. Neo-Ottoman mihrab in the style of the Green Mosque of Bursa.
be considered as a conscious creation designed to communicate a revived identity through this blending of European components and an Ottoman basis. The´ophile Gautier, who visited Dolmabahce in 1856, notes the Ottoman core of the palace. He observes that although sections of the palace were in open thrall to France, they were ‘Orientalized’.179 In 1842, Ge´rard de Nerval similarly described a recent work of Ottoman architecture as ‘plus modernes, presque dans le gout europe´en’ (more modern, nearly in the European style).180
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Alphonse de Lamartine repeats a similar trope concerning the caı¨ques of the sultan: ‘du gout le plus exquis du dessin de l’Europe et de la magnificence de l’Orient’ (the most exquisite taste of European design and the magnificence of the Orient).181 All three observers recognized the European and modern references of the Ottoman works but noticed that there was something different about them. Their comments were not just a reflection of these authors’ Orientalism and recourse to literary tropes,182 but they reflect a genuine dualism that characterizes the Ottoman architecture and decoration of the Tanzimat. The Dolmabahce’s plan is based on the sofa arrangement. It consists of several sofas, which are side rooms (eyvans) that project to each side of a larger central room. The sofas are connected by corridors, which regulate the flow of visitors to certain parts of the building; this is a uniquely labyrinthine feature, reflecting palace protocol and living arrangements. As noted above, this plan overrides other aspects of the building because of the superior symbolism of structure over motif. These sofas are, however, hidden by the regular masonry facade that faces the Bosphorus (Plate 4). At the apex of the palace is the colossal Audience Hall, which is in a cruciform plan. This Audience Hall incorporates not only some aspects of the structure but also of the ornament of the Pantheon in Rome. Used for balls, receptions and other events involving foreign visitors, as well as ceremonial palace events, the Audience Hall was designed to be an architectural and decorative showpiece. This is not perceptible from the exterior: the large dome resting on piers is concealed, like the dome of the Bes¸iktas¸ Church, by a gable roof, so as not to compete with the nearby mosques. Therefore, although the plan mixed the old tradition of the sofa layout with new references to Imperial Rome, it was careful not to display the opulence of the immense dome on the exterior. Nigog˘os Balyan was skilled at attuning his works not only to new revivalist notions gathered from Paris, but also to Ottoman decorum. Although the regularized masonry exterior of the Dolmabahce Palace is a departure from traditional Ottoman palace architecture, despite its Greek temple facade, pediment and Corinthian columns, the palace does not follow European neoclassical or empire style architecture. Instead the Dolmabahce’s arrangement and ornament is far more expressive. The tracery of Sansovino’s works, such as the Library of San Marco (1536),183 is recalled by the intricate ornament on the facades (Fig. 14). As Gautier notes, this ‘makes the facade of a building resemble a gigantic piece of goldsmith’s work’; ‘[i]t is a palace, which might be the work of an ornamentist’.184 Venice was viewed as the ideal city state in the nineteenth century, particularly after Ruskin wrote The Stones of Venice (1853).185 Venice was not only admired for her architectural beauty, but also because her government was a model of secular and democratic rule.186 In addition, Venice was regarded as the site of the struggle between ‘the Lombard’ (i.e., the Christian West) and ‘the Arab’ (i.e., the Islamic East): ‘they met and contended over the wreck of the Roman Empire’.187 In the Ottoman classical period, the model of Renaissance Venice as the ultimate ‘multicultural world empire’ superseded ancient Rome, which had provided the inspiration for earlier imperial architecture.188 Some of the architectural wonders of
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Venice, such as Palladio’s Il Redentore (1576– 80), may have been influenced by the minarets of Sinan’s mosques,189 and other Venetian works may have followed antique Constantinopolitan precedents. Therefore the dialogue between the two cities was long established: the medieval Piazza San Marco in Venice followed a forum in Constantinople.190 In contemporary French works, architecture could communicate a meaning that related to the historical role of its setting. The Marseille Cathedral built 1852– 90 by Le´on Vaudoyer, in a style that merged Byzantine, Italian Romanesque and Gothic features, conveyed Marseille’s role as ‘gateway to the Orient’.
Figure 14
Dolmabahce Palace (1856), Bes¸iktas¸, Istanbul. Seaside facade with relief carving.
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Nigog˘os and Serkis Balyan would have been influenced by Vaudoyer’s ‘history as a process of eclectic cultural intermingling’191 and Labrouste’s ‘historical hybridization’.192 Following these leads, the architecture of the Dolmabahce could very well be communicating a message related to Renaissance Venice. The Ortako¨y Mosque certainly has a strong relationship to the Scuola Grande San Rocco (1530), not only in the panelling ornament and differentiation of the side facades mentioned earlier, but also in the texture of the whole building, which is related to the vitality of that Venetian model. The painted dome of the Ortako¨y Mosque also follows Renaissance models, and perhaps models from Venice can be identified as well (there is a similar feel to the dome of La Rotonda in nearby Vicenza). However, despite these Venetian references, the architecture created for Abdu¨lmecid incorporates other historical styles to communicate its message through a syncretic whole. In the relief-carved exterior decoration of the palace, an amalgam of allusions to East and West can be identified. Particular references are motifs taken from the art of the Roman Empire (shells, garlands, egg-and-dart, grapes, fruit), baroque urns, brooches and cartouches, irregular rococo vegetation and flower heads. These motifs associated with the West are used on the facades and on the Gate of the Treasury (Plate 5). Yet, there are also small neo-Islamic elements such as six-pointed stars (seen on the white entrance gates and the balcony of the entrance facade for instance). The interior continues this play between East and West. Again, the depiction of Roman and Renaissance motifs, alongside baroque trompe l’oeil painted ceilings, Rococo gilded furnishings with scrolling ornament, furniture and decorative elements from the empire style of Percier and Fontaine can be seen. Yet there is the subversive presence of neo-Islamic stars placed within otherwise Western-style rooms. Furthermore, some ceilings are wholly in a neo-Islamic style. There are specific Islamic architectural elements, for example mashrabiya (windows with grilles that allow one to look out but not in) for the women of the Harem to see the Audience Hall ceremonies and celebrations. An emphatic tease between East and West is also present in the arrangement of the interior spaces. In the residential part are seen large rooms with low ceilings opening out laterally on to jutting spaces, or eyvans, in the sofa arrangement. In the official rooms for receiving foreign ambassadors there are theatrical architectural and decorative effects such as the soaring dome of the Audience Hall, the crystal staircase surmounted by a glass roof, and the painted dome and French furniture of the rooms designed by Se´chan (Plate 8). Architecture and decoration was clearly devised to speak its function. The deliberate nature of the architecture and decoration is further displayed through the iconography. Roman motifs of plenty, such as fruit (especially pomegranates), bouquets of flowers, vine scrolls, garlands, pine cones, wheat, urns and shells, proliferate. These are particularly prevalent on the Treasury Gate and the Audience Hall (Plates 5 and 7), two of the most important areas for palace ceremonial events. They are repeated in painted decoration and carved ornament on the interior rooms in the palace.
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Motifs of plenty sit alongside neo-Islamic painted ceilings, furniture and decorative elements, as well as the ever-present sultan’s tug˘ra. Pseudo-Kufic script even adorns the bases of gilded Corinthian columns – thus illustrating, in one component, the fusion of East and West on display. Symbolic motifs referring to Abdu¨lmecid’s power are conspicuous throughout the exterior and interior. Repeated with extreme frequency are the wreath and militaristic clusters associated with Imperial Rome and Napoleonic France (Fig. 15). Also seen recurrently are baroque brooches, cartouches, heraldic motifs and coats of arms, and crowns. Symbols of the sultan’s sovereignty over Ottoman domains, such as the landscapes represented on many of the Dolmabahce’s ceilings, followed the tendency of portraits of Abdu¨lmecid to display his power through the depiction of territory in the background. There are references to the reforms and uptake of European modes of behaviour during the Tanzimat, such as scrolls, most likely signalling to the new legal code, and musical instruments such as trumpets. Bouquets of roses are depicted in virtually every room of the palace, painted on ceilings and adorning furniture (for instance, carved on a mirror to each side of the tug˘ra of Abdu¨lmecid). The tug˘ra is nevertheless dominant. Most significantly, it is often placed within the Roman triumphal arch. This provides the form for the entrance gates to the palace (Plate 5). The triumphal arch is also depicted both in the ceiling paintings of the room next to the hamam (Plate 6) and the Audience Hall (Plate 7). This composition underlines the union of East (the tug˘ra) and West (the triumphal arch) in the palace iconography.
Figure 15 Dolmabahce Palace (1856), Bes¸iktas¸, Istanbul. Interior, paintwork showing militaristic clusters alongside the ever-present bouquet of flowers.
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In 1854, Louis Bunel sheds light on the function of this imagery: ‘In the middle of the columns, the bas-reliefs, rosettes, and badges, appears surrounded by all the wealth and prestige of this art the cipher of the sultan on its gold on green background.’193 The plenty, the wealth and the prestige expressed by the Dolmabahce Palace, and executed in carved stone, paintwork, stucco, marble and gilding, was always pointing to, at its core, the tug˘ra of the sultan. The effect is reminiscent of the chronicler Kritovoulos of Imbros’s description of Mehmed II’s building works: For he was constructing great edifices which were to be worth seeing and should in every respect vie with the greatest and the best of the past. For this reason he needed to give them the most careful oversight as to workmen and materials of so many kinds and the best quality, and he also was concerned with the very many and great expenses and outlays.194 The inscription on the Treasury Gate of the Dolmabahce (Plate 5) expresses that the palace was intended by its architect and patron to be a show of imperial power and plenty to the outside world. The inscription describes the palace as erected from polishing/burnishing (musaykaldan bina kıldı) and as giving pleasure (cok safalı), and it ends with the statement that the abode became one of imperial pomp (makam s¸evket oldu) thanks to Abdu¨lmecid and this palace of fortune (mes’aadetli bu sarayı). One account of Sultan Abdu¨lhamid questioning the contents of the Ottoman coat of arms sheds light on the meaning of many of the symbols in the Tanzimat imperial works. A memorandum listed the components of the coat of arms as: both old and new, Turkish and Islamic, motifs such as armaments and other symbolic objects. The central motif in the shield was ‘the exalted crown of the Sultans’, topped by the seal or tug˘ra of the regnant ruler. This was flanked by two heavy tomes, one symbolizing Islamic Law, s¸eriat, and the other modern codes (ahkam-ı s¸eriyye ve nizamiye- yi cami kitab). Under these appeared a set of scales representing justice. The central motif was surrounded and flanked by symbolic armaments, the old balancing the new: arrow and quiver – infantry rifle and bayonet, old-style muzzle-loading cannon and a modern field artillery piece, a traditional scimitar, a modern cavalry sabre, etc. The coat of arms also included traditional Islamic – Ottoman symbols such as a vase full of blossoming roses and incense standing for the magnanimity of the state.195 Many of the components of the coat of arms can be identified in the Dolmabahce Palace’s decoration and also in the Go¨ksu and Ihlamur pavilions. Symbols referring to Abdu¨lmecid’s sovereign authority and reforms (scrolls, instruments, vistas, roses in urns, crowns, wreaths, globes), territory (landscapes and sea views, picturesque vistas) and plenty (pomegranates, jugs) are the main elements of his iconography. These symbolic motifs are depicted across media: in the paintwork of the ceilings, on mirrors, items of furniture, as well as in gilded decorative borders. This reiteration of the same
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symbols in different ways gives a playful effect to the whole. This is amplified by set pieces such as the curving crystal staircase and trompe l’oeil ceilings. This theatricality is reminiscent of the Ope´ra of Charles Garnier, its mosaic, gilded, painted, carved and mirrored surfaces (but which was not built until 1860 – 75). Yet, alongside this jostling communication of the symbolic iconography there are a number of more isolated signs within the Dolmabahce Palace that the Ottoman Empire assumed an important place within the concert of European nations. These architectural and decorative elements are exact parallels to features of European palaces. Distinctive lion sculptures seen in the gardens of the Palais de Louvre and Luxembourg are cited at Dolmabahce. Here they take on a static quality akin to ancient Near Eastern sculpture rather than the active European representations. It is almost as if this key characteristic of a European palace had been ‘Orientalized’ (as Gautier noted).196 Another example is the triumphal arch, associated with the empire style of the Arc du Carrousel of the Louvre Palace in the Tuilleries. This feature is incorporated not just once as at the Louvre but repeatedly in the entrance of the Dolmabahce Palace (Plates 5 –7). It is, again, Orientalized through the depiction of vegetal ornament instead of angels in the spandrels, and is also Ottomanized by the sultan’s tug˘ra, represented at its apex. In the Dolmabahce Mosque the references to Imperial Rome, the Renaissance and the sovereign power of the sultan are less explicit, and instead there are increased allusions to Islam. The plan is the most basic structural unit for an Ottoman mosque: the domed cube. Thus, as in the use of the sofa plan for the palace, it follows much earlier models. The facade of the Dolmabahce Mosque (Plate 17), in contrast with its simple plan, is daring. The wheel-shaped windows dominate every side. Unprecedented in their size, these sheets of glass flood the interior with light. The manufacture of large sheets of glass became possible with the advent of steam-powered machine grinding and polishing techniques. The invention of cast plate glass in 1848 meant that glass became more economical and was used widely, the most notable example being Crystal Palace (which Abdu¨laziz was eager to visit in 1867).197 Wheel windows were used in Europe on buildings associated with technological progress, such as the Gare de l’Est in Paris, the ‘modern portal to the city’.198 The interior decoration of the Dolmabahce Mosque contains hints of Ottoman tradition and of progress along European lines. The dome’s trompe l’oeil decoration (Plate 18) shows the dramatic implementation of European techniques, yet within the content of the paintwork we can see, alongside the crests, brooches, seashells and coffering, the Islamic motif of interlocking arches. In addition, in the pendentives are neo-Islamic eight-pointed stars containing illusionistic paintwork, showing the intersection of Islamic tradition and European techniques in a single motif. Pronounced references to Islam in the mosques can also be seen in the Ortako¨y Mosque. The trompe l’oeil decoration of the dome of the mosque (Plate 23) in neo-
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Renaissance style includes a depiction of rows of columns in front of a blue sky and lines of mihrabs of exactly the same style as the porphyry mihrab of the prayer hall below. These decoration schemes, seen in the Ortako¨y and Dolmabahce Mosques, show an astute awareness of the traditions of Islamic architecture and decoration and their subversion within a fusion of European neoclassical, Renaissance, empire and baroque styles. The references to Islam contrast with those to sovereign authority in the dome of the Audience Hall of the Dolmabahce Palace, such as the triumphal arch with tug˘ra. These subtle manipulations of the respective decorative schemes show the Balyan family’s skill, like that of their Parisian contemporaries, at using ornament to communicate meaning. The empty baroque brooch and cartouche also dominate the interior of the Dolmabahce Mosque (Plate 19). They are depicted at intervals around the prayer hall and give the impression of the sultan’s tug˘ra. Yet, since they are blank within the mosque, they cleverly evoke how the power of the sultan was subordinate to that of the divine. The inscription, crowned by tug˘ra, has been removed from the entrance and placed on the ground along the seaside facade, showing how there was an obvious sensitivity to displaying the sultan’s authority in this environment. The tug˘ra above the entrance to the Aziziye Mosque in Konya has likewise been scratched out. The remainder of the Dolmabahce Mosque is devoid of representational motifs. The scagliola of the side walls depicts pink panelling, also seen in the trompe l’oeil of the dome. Pink panelling was popular in Renaissance and baroque works. Further motifs, such as egg-and-dart, acanthus, S-scrolls, and scalloping decorate the religious furniture (Plates 20 and 21). The combination of porphyry and gilding is akin to the empire style of La Madeleine and Galerie des Batailles, however. The examples of the Dolmabahce Palace and Mosque lay bare the components of the style formulated by Karapet and Nigog˘os for Abdu¨lmecid. Combining not only traditional structures with European regularized facades, but decorative references to multiple European styles, Islamic and Ottoman models, the style represented hybridity on every level. This was a calculated and deliberate hybridism; these myriad styles arising from East and West, and these varied motifs referring to plenty and power in its various guises, were controlled under symbolic references to the sultan’s sovereign authority and to Islam. The style formulated by Karapet and Nigog˘os was an Ottoman Renaissance in the sense that it revived Ottoman architectural forms, such as the sofa or the domed cube, but moreover because it represented the resurgence of Ottoman power under Abdu¨lmecid through its references to his sovereignty and the plenty of the Empire. The Empire was presented as heir to the great European empires of the past – Rome and Venice – as well as the more recent example of Napoleonic France. However, the style of the Ottoman Renaissance retained its Oriental basis, as Gauthier and others noted.199 A related – but also somewhat changed – style was developed for Abdu¨laziz.
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Beylerbeyi Palace, Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque and the Official Style of Abdu¨laziz The engagement in international delegations during Abdu¨laziz’s reign was an important factor affecting an altered artistic configuration of the Ottoman Renaissance in the architecture of the later years of the Tanzimat. As noted above, the Exposition of 1867 showed a renewed attention to the place of the Ottoman Empire within the history of civilization, in general, and, in particular, its position as an Islamic empire.200 The books produced for the 1873 Vienna Exposition – the Elbise and the Usul – also emphasized the renewal of Ottoman traditional costumes and crafts, as well as the particular value of Ottoman architecture from the Bursa period. The Usul-u Mimari-i Osmani of 1873 is particularly important when considering the official style of the imperial building works of Abdu¨laziz. As has been seen, Serkis Balyan can be connected to the milieu that produced the Usul and, therefore, it can be presumed that he held similar ideas to those voiced in its text on the creation of an Ottoman Renaissance. According to the Usul, in Abdu¨laziz’s reign ‘the unique styles of original Ottoman architecture [were] redeveloped’ and the works of his period ‘show[ed] a renewed development of Ottoman architecture’.201 This renaissance of Ottoman architecture encouraged by the Usul concentrated on the value of architecture from the Bursa period. In the works of Abdu¨laziz’s reign is seen an increase in references to the architecture of Bursa and, in particular, its decorative motifs. Exact parallels between the drawings of the Usul and the decoration of the Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque can be identified, although these have been underestimated by previous studies.202 Some of these parallels include the muqarnas, and arabesque borders and cartouches (of Plate XI of the Usul), which can be seen on the side walls of the mosque (Plate 30). Columns with ribbed, knotted motifs at the base (such as from Plate XIII of the Usul) are carved on the minber and on the exterior of the mosque. Many other elements, such as the fan motif (Plate XVII of the Usul) and mihrab (Plate XVI of the Usul) can be seen on the mosque. Even the plan of the Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque in some ways follows the Green Mosque of Bursa. Both consist of two main spaces with six large side rooms and a sultan’s lodge positioned above the entrance. The entrance facades also have a faint resemblance.203 Despite these similarities between the text and the building, it should be emphasized that the Ottoman elements from the Usul are combined in Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque with other features, such as the trompe l’oeil dome (Plate 29), the Seljukid pyramidal vaults carved into the street facade, the Gothic windows and the minber’s Mughal onion dome (Plate 30). Therefore, this mosque does not follow strict historicist methodology as seen in the works of Le´on Parville´e, Viollet-le-Duc or even Pascal Coste in Egypt.204 This varied nature of the decoration of the Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque does not mean that it was an Orientalist work, in contrast with the proto-national significance of the Usul, which advocated a more academic historicism. Instead the Valide Mosque represents an Ottoman Renaissance that was following a syncretic approach and reflecting the hybrid nature of Ottoman culture at the time, as is also reflected by evidence such as the vakıfname of Pertevniyal Valide Sultan.
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As has been implied through this chapter’s description of the repeated materials, techniques, decorative motifs and structural elements of the works, the official style of Abdu¨laziz, as seen in the Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque, was a deliberate formation that was in many ways in continuity with that of Abdu¨lmecid. The objective was still the creation of an Ottoman Renaissance. The fulfilment of this goal involved the deliberate quotation of Ottoman and other Islamic models alongside European ones and the predominant display of symbols of the sultan’s authority. Although in tandem with Abdu¨lmecid’s style – in its references to old and new, East and West – the neo-Islamic, neo-Ottoman and Gothic features of Abdu¨laziz’s Ottoman Renaissance style were much more pronounced, showing how the vision of ideal Ottoman identity had shifted from the Mediterranean further inland to the Middle East. Yet, there is still a degree of ambiguity. The facade of the C¸ırag˘an Palace (Fig. 16) and its mixture of Gothic and neo-Islamic influences could be related to the Doge’s Palace, Ca D’Oro and other palazzos on the Grand Canal, for instance. The example of the Beylerbeyi Palace shows the content of the style in more detail. Beylerbeyi Palace is also based around the traditional sofa structure, held within a regularized neoclassical masonry facade. A distinctive feature of the Beylerbeyi facade is its exaggerated height resembling that of a Renaissance palazzo. The balustrade added to the top of the facade, as it was also at Dolmabahce, exaggerates this height even more. The facade of Beylerbeyi (Fig. 17) is more sparsely carved than the Dolmabahce facades, showing a smaller selection of motifs taken from European baroque, empire and Renaissance styles. In contrast to its Renaissance exterior, the Beylerbeyi’s interior rooms are dominated by neo-Islamic decoration (Fig. 18). The most frequent references are to Owen Jones’ Arabian and Moorish designs (Plate 27).205 These styles harked back to golden ages of Islam, Islamic culture, and the caliphate. However, their inspiration was also in a sense in continuity with the earlier palaces, since the Alhambra was a major focus for the Romantic imagination. That these styles were specifically chosen, studied and replicated and not simply copied from Owen Jones’s designs is indicated by Tug˘lacı’s account of Agop Balyan sending artists to visit Spain and North Africa.206 Even the furniture of the palace is in a style reviving Islamic elements not seen since the Bursa period or altogether alien to Ottoman architecture. Kufic letters and neo-Islamic outlines can be seen on chairs, mirrors and cupboards. This was not an archaeologically correct neo-Islamic vision: the Owen Jones-style decoration includes depictions of pine cones and shells, brooches and cartouches. Some of the Owen Jones-style ceilings are combined with naval paintings by Ayvazovski or with militaristic motifs (also represented on elements of the furniture). There are also a number of ceilings in the Beylerbeyi Palace that depict floral motifs in a thoroughly Occidental style. The majority of the ceiling paintwork is combined with a large Ottoman su¨lu¨s inscription panel. The effect of the su¨lu¨s is to unite and to Ottomanize both the European and the neo-Islamic elements of the decoration. Bouquets of roses also serve
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Figure 16 C¸ırag˘an Palace (1871), C¸ırag˘an, Istanbul. Exterior, entrance facade with Gothic and neo-Islamic carved ornament.
as a unifying motif as they are depicted on virtually every ceiling of the palace, whether Moorish or European style. As seen from the official styles of both Mahmud II and Abdu¨lmecid, and from the account of the Ottoman coat of arms, bouquets of roses refer to the magnanimity of the state. The content of the epigraphic decoration sheds light on the intended meaning of the Beylerbeyi Palace. Inscriptions encompass Koranic quotations and, most significantly, in the room used for meetings with ambassadors, texts refer to the sultan’s just governance as caliph, and the sultan as protected and directed by God. Inscriptions in
Figure 17 Beylerbeyi Palace (1864), Beylerbeyi, Istanbul. Exterior, entrance facade in Renaissance style.
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Figure 18 Beylerbeyi Palace (1864), Beylerbeyi, Istanbul. Interior ceiling showing neo-Islamic painted decoration interspersed with floral bouquets and with a naval painting by Ayvazovski.
the Blue Hall refer repeatedly to victory. Another theme is that the sultan ‘enlightened the land like the sun’.207 These inscriptions show how the palace, like the Dolmabahce, was intended to communicate the sultan’s sovereign power, but the references to enlightenment and military might have an increased emphasis on the sultan as religious leader and caliph. This dualism of references to Islamic and European civilizations, as well as a decided shift in favour of the Empire’s Islamic heritage, can be discerned in the Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque. The plan adheres to the traditional Ottoman domed cube, but there is an entrance hall based on a sofa plan, as well as two side rooms, so that the space
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for the sultan is larger here than in previous works. Indeed, in some ways the plan follows that of the Green Mosque of Bursa. The exterior of the Valide Mosque (Fig. 19) exhibits both a Gothic verticality on the side facing the Divan Yolu and echoes the Green Mosque of Bursa on the entrance facade. The entrances to the complex, furthermore, take the form of triumphal arches and horseshoe arches but are decorated with neo-Islamic ornament and Ottoman inscriptions. The Divan Yolu facade is covered with carving, depicting various Islamic motifs, including pyramidal vaults, mihrabs, blind arches and onion-shaped finials. The mihrab of the interior is echoed by the presence of a striking external mihrab, complete with inscription, in the centre of the facade. It is important to note that this degree of all-over low-relief stone-carving on a mosque had not been seen since the Green Mosque of Bursa. The interior of the Valide Mosque (Fig. 20), engulfed by brightly painted decoration, depicts Ottoman motifs from the Bursa period, such as the blind arches on the corner piers and the cartouches of ornament lining the walls. Yet there are also influences from the age of Sinan in the grey minber with carved balustrade and mihrab. The trompe l’oeil dome (Plate 29) depicts neo-Islamic elements such as interlinking arches, horseshoe arches, muqarnas, and the ever-present bouquets of flowers in urns. The role of Ottoman su¨lu¨s calligraphy is strong here, in contrast with Abdu¨lmecid’s mosques. It encompasses a band that runs around the interior of the prayer hall (Plate
Figure 19 Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque (1872), Aksaray, Istanbul. Facade of mosque on the Divanyolu road.
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Figure 20 Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque (1872), Aksaray, Istanbul. Interior of mosque with neo-Islamic and neo-Ottoman paintwork and Gothic window grilles.
30), a wheel in the centre of the dome and further panels on the minber, mihrab and qibla wall. The hybrid effect of the whole is completed by Gothic windows and grilles, all visible from the interior. This official style of Abdu¨laziz, seen in the Beylerbeyi Palace and Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque, includes a mixture of Gothic, neo-Islamic and European (baroque, neoclassical, Renaissance) references, within an Ottoman structure. In the mosque, predominant neo-Ottoman ornamental elements from the time of Bursa are
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accompanied by motifs from the age of Sinan, in addition to revived su¨lu¨s calligraphy. In the palace, Arabian and Moorish styles are the dominant features, along with the presence of Ottoman su¨lu¨s and references to the sultan’s sovereign power. This continued to be a deliberately hybrid style evoking a Romantic vision of an Ottoman Renaissance that leaned towards both Europe and Ottoman tradition. However, by the reign of Abdu¨laziz there was a shift towards the Islamic heritage of the Empire and the role of the sultan as caliph. Despite the change in their particular emphasis, the official styles of both Abdu¨lmecid and Abdu¨laziz are characterized by European-influenced decorative styles and modes of visual communication, and their application to Ottoman plans. In both cases this is a syncretic style that aimed to create an Ottoman Renaissance through the revival of local traditions and their combination with new stimuli. The next chapter puts forward a detailed vision of the building operations, which will, like the vision of the official styles of the Tanzimat given in this chapter, show how the Balyan family deliberately and successfully combined local traditions with European inputs and inspirations to revive the building milieu of Constantinople so that it would work to their advantage.
CHAPTER 6 THE NETWORKS BEHIND THE IMPERIAL BUILDING WORKS OF THE TANZIMAT
Pugin himself was now at the centre of an extensive if somewhat improvised production network. There were several dozen men and women employed in Birmingham and Ramsgate on vestments, metalwork and glass, as well as a team of peripatetic craftsmen, based in Hardman’s factory, carvers, decorative painters, gilders and carpenters, busy all over England. Crace had his own men who worked on the more expensive jobs, as had Myers, who himself stumped the country seeing to work in progress. The enterprise had grown up in an ad hoc way to meet Pugin’s requirements but it pointed the direction that ‘art manufactures’ would follow. Pugin was not the first architect to work with a regular team of craftsmen and manufacturers; the Adam brothers, notably, had done the same. But he was the first to realize his designs over such a wide spectrum and on such a scale, from large public commissions to middle-class houses and small chapels.1 As Pugin’s ‘production network’2 illustrates, over the nineteenth century the building sector transformed dramatically, evolving from individuals (whether academically trained or self-taught) carrying out jobs on their own to conglomerates taking on a range of commissions at the same time. To be able to engage in these varied and largescale enterprises, architects built up their networks and methods of production so that they spanned several geographical regions and spheres of creative endeavour and involved manufacturing. Their occupation no longer simply encompassed the craftbased skills of the builder or the more learned education of the architect; certainly Pugin combined both. Also during the nineteenth century, architects deeply involved themselves in the design and procurement of decoration, furniture and even art works specially commissioned to fill their buildings. The nineteenth-century architect, whether in Britain like Pugin or in the Ottoman Empire like the Balyan family, was involved in a range of imperial, private and commercial commissions that required a vast and efficient production network. Using the Ottoman bureaucracy’s documentation, which is now kept in the Ottoman Prime Ministry Archive in Istanbul, as its basis, this chapter focuses
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on the bureaucratic, social and industrial networks behind the Balyan family’s imperial works. The details recorded by scribes in notebooks about individual building projects, and other bureaucratic transactions relating to their project management, enable the identification of the varied agents responsible for these imperial works. The notebooks are a particularly important resource because they list the bureaucratic staff, suppliers of materials and goods, labourers, craftsmen, overseers and also kalfas who were engaged in each project. From this information it can be ascertained not only who was involved, but also from what regions they came and their religious affiliation. The Ministry of Pious Foundations and the Ministry of the Imperial Treasury kept the building registers (recording the accounts for the building process), most of which concerned mosques. Comparative data on the Dolmabahc e and Beylerbeyi palaces is available in the work of Cengiz Go¨ncu¨, Pars Tug˘lacı and in sporadic archival transactions. This chapter uses the same structure as the documents themselves, looking at the bureaucratic bodies and officials involved in the project, then moving on to labourers and craftsmen (amele), materials purchased (mubayaat) and their suppliers, and then craftsmen contracted to perform specific elements of the architecture and decoration ‘on account’ (ale‘l-hesab). Finally, the chapter addresses the kalfas and foreign craftsmen involved. This structure emphasizes how the networks behind the Tanzimat projects, despite rapid transformation in the building milieu, in many ways remained remarkably fixed to traditional local patterns of supply that had sustained Ottoman building since the classical period. Karapet’s and Nigog˘os’s operations in the 1840s and 1850s, and even Serkis and Agop in the 1860s and 1870s, took advantage of these patterns and those associated with the long-standing operations of the Imperial Architects’ Office. The teams were composed mostly of Armenians, illustrating their dominance in building-trade-related industries. However, there were also foreigners, both Europeans and individuals from further afield. Therefore amidst the general continuity with ageold Ottoman systems and local production methods, there were some notable changes. The Balyan family used regular and local teams as the basis of their building crews to ensure the efficiency and economy of their works. Foreign craftsmen were employed to work on elements that necessitated the use of their particular skill. This selective use of foreigners was an efficient strategy, but also ensured the work would be of a modern appearance to please the sultan-patron. The development of such efficient strategies meant that other kalfas and architects could not compete with the Balyan family. They had a unique position over imperial works that was akin to a monopoly.
The Relationship of Imperial Building Works to the Official Bureaucratic Bodies The Involvement of the Bureaucratic Bodies in Building in the 1840s and 1850s The registers and other archived transactions concerning projects reveal the connection of the imperial building works to individual bureaucratic bodies. These connections
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changed over time due to the evolving nature of the Tanzimat bureaucratic apparatus. This section focuses on the works carried out under Karapet’s and Nigog˘os’s control in the early Tanzimat. Seals on estimates for mosques begun in 1848, such as the Hırka-i S¸erif, Mecidiye and Ortako¨y, show the involvement of either the Building Council or the chief of the Directorate of Imperial Buildings and the Building Council, Abdu¨lhalim Efendi.3 However, after the estimate stage, the Building Council was not involved in projects. Despite Selman Can’s assertion that the Building Council put building contracts out to tender (mu¨nakasa),4 there is no evidence of this for imperial works during Karapet and Nigog˘os’s time. Furthermore, not one all-powerful bureaucratic body, but several inherited the duties of the Imperial Architects’ Office. The Ministry of Pious Foundations took a role in building and maintenance works through the Evkaf Tamirat Mu¨du¨rlu¨g˘u¨ (The Directorate for Repairs to Pious Foundations), founded in 1838. However, the sporadic documentation suggests that this new body for repair works was not well organized.5 The Ministry of Pious Foundations’ involvement became regularized in 1848 when, on the suggestion of the Building Council, it appointed Ohannes and Artin Kalfa (Serveryan) and Istefan Kalfa to oversee mosque-building projects, at a monthly salary of 500 kurus¸. After 1848 the Ministry of Pious Foundations oversaw the building of the Hırka-i S¸erif, Ortako¨y and Dolmabahc e Mosques. Its weekly accounts for the latter two mosques show that it supervised the spending, supply of materials and labour.6 Karapet and Nigog˘os Balyan’s connections to the Ministry of Pious Foundations were through their assistant architects. Ohannes and Istefan Kalfa were both members of the Building Council, as well as salaried by the Ministry of Pious Foundations. Karapet received a monthly salary of 500 kurus¸ from the Ministry of Pious Foundations’ treasury, reassigned after his death to the Saray Saatcıbas¸ı (Chief Watchmaker of the Palace) Partemyos.7 The third body responsible for building works was the Hazine-i Hassa Nezareti, or Ministry of the Imperial Treasury. The Treasury was thoroughly engaged in the large palace projects, such as the Dolmabahc e, Beylerbeyi and C¸ırag˘an. For each building project the ministry provided a team of financial administrators and organized the supply of goods and materials, as Cengiz Go¨ncu¨ notes in relation to the Beylerbeyi Palace. It also took on a role in the construction of imperial mosques, overseeing the estimates and some costs for the Mecidiye Mosque (1847– 48), Tes¸vikiye Mosque (1854), Kag˘ıthane (1863) and the Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque (1866– 72). The documentation does not entirely clarify Karapet and Nigog˘os Balyan’s connection to the Ministry of the Treasury. Karapet carried out some duties for the Ministry of the Treasury, for instance the estimates for the Tes¸vikiye Mosque,8 the estimates for the Yıldız Kasrı in 18619 and was involved in purchasing goods for the C¸ırag˘an Palace.10 During 1278/1862, the Treasury employed Karapet’s assistant architect, Istefan Kalfa, to compile the estimates for a number of buildings (which can be connected to Karapet and Nigog˘os), such as the Imperial Apartment in Beykoz.
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However, the great majority of Treasury transactions relating to projects associated with Karapet and Nigog˘os contain no mention of them. They do not seem to have received a regular salary. Karapet received a monthly salary from the Maliye (Finance Office) and Kurena (which was the Chamberlain of the Sultan, and the Serkurena, the Office of the Sultan’s Chief Intimates),11 and Cengiz Go¨ncu¨ found that the Kurena paid Serkis, but salaries from the Treasury are not mentioned. Payments for individual projects also do not help to clarify Karapet and Nigog˘os’s role in relation to bureaucratic departments. Several central bodies recorded the payment of lump sums for the Ortako¨y Mosque to Karapet and his kalfas.12 One more detailed document dealing with this mosque shows how it was financed by the Hazinei S¸ahane (Imperial Treasury) the Maliye Hazinesi (Treasury of the Finance Office) and the Has Hazinesi (The Sultan’s Private Treasury). The financial arrangements (tertibat-ı mezkuriye) listed are 1,065,975 kurus¸ from the Hazine-i Celile Maliye (Treasury of the Finance Office), 887,301 kurus¸ from the Hazine-i Hassa S¸ahane (Ministry of the Treasury) and 887,301 kurus¸ from the Hazine-i Evkaf-ı Hu¨mayunu (Treasury of the Ministry of Pious Foundations). In addition, another sum (2,840,578 kurus¸) was given to the sultan’s pious foundations by the Evkaf, so the grand total from the Evkaf was 1,953,276 kurus¸.13 This pooling of finances shows that there was no one body in charge of mosque-building, or building in general. This complicated state of affairs is also reflected by the various salaries allotted to Karapet at different times; he was given payments for individual building jobs from various ministries, but also monthly salaries and other payments to redistribute. Collaboration with Individual Officials on Imperial Works of the 1840s and 1850s Construction documents provide varying amounts of detail on the involvement of officials from the bureaucratic bodies in building projects undertaken by Karapet and Nigog˘os. For each mosque, registers produced by the Ministry of the Imperial Treasury name a chief official, as well as a kalfa, whereas registers produced by the Ministry of Pious Foundations (in particular those for the Ortako¨y Mosque) list both the officials who were part of the weekly building team, and the hierarchy of the project’s management. The picture that emerges from all documentation is that the officials were financial administrators who changed from project to project. The documentation concerning the Dolmabahc e Palace (1849–56) shows two tiers in the building works: official-bureaucratic supervision of work and work carried out by non-Muslim kalfas. Go¨ncu¨ states that Evanis Kalfa is mentioned in the accounting sheets from the first day of work on the palace until December 1856, as are Karapet and Nigog˘os.14 There was also a group of administrative officials, Ebniye-i Hassa Mu¨du¨ru¨ (Manager of Imperial Buildings) Abdu¨lhalim Efendi and Bina Emini (Building Official) Hacı Said Ag˘a.15 The building registers for the mosques show a similar twotiered hierarchy with the official bodies and kalfas. They indicate the same kalfas, or at least kalfa with connections to Karapet and Nigog˘os, whereas the bureaucratic officials changed.
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The Mecidiye Mosque registers do not show that Karapet, Nigog˘os or their kalfa had any connection with the building of the mosque. Abdu¨lhalim Efendi’s name is not seen either. Instead, in the register of estimates issued by the Treasury16 it is noted that the memur (official) Osman Tevfik Efendi was appointed in charge (mu¨bas¸eret olunduk), with a salary of 3,500 kurus¸, and that he also carried out the estimates and began the project. The official (memur) El-Hac Efendi was appointed as a scribe ‘from the side of the meclis’ (meaning he was appointed by the Building Council), and he was given half of the salary of Osman Tevfik Efendi. Two financial officials (mutemed) were employed on the project. Thirteen representatives of the Building Council sealed the estimates for this mosque.17 The Hırka-i S¸erif Mosque’s first register of estimates by the Ministry of Pious Foundations,18 carried out in 1848, is sealed by Seyyid Abdu¨lhalim Efendi. The seals of the Building Council representatives appear on three of the other registers (but Abdu¨lhalim Efendi’s does not).19 The seals include those of Ohannes, Artin and Istefan Kalfa. The Ministry of the Treasury’s register of salaries for the Tes¸vikiye Mosque20 names two more officials: Necip Bey Efendi, who oversaw and recorded spending (‘harc olarak Necip Bey Efendi’nin ifadesi’), and Hasib Pas¸a, who was in charge of communicating the imperial orders (emr ve iradeleri). Ahmed Necip’s and Karapet’s seals (in Arabic and Armenian), are on the register, as well as a seal for Ku¨u c ¨ k Hu¨seyin Evkafı (the pious foundation of Ku¨cu¨k Hu¨seyin). Text in the register states that the Tes¸vikiye was completed using Karapet Kalfa’s skill (marifetiyle) and that a sum was delivered to him. The register does not mention Abdu¨lhalim Efendi. The Ortako¨y Mosque is a well-documented project, by both weekly registers issued by the Ministry of Pious Foundations and other transactions. Many of these documents deal with the Ortako¨y and Dolmabahc e Mosques, indicating that the building of both mosques was overseen by the same team. For instance, that payment for the mosques was delivered to Ebniye-i Hu¨mayun Kalfası Karapet and Istefan Kalfa21 shows Karapet worked together with his senior kalfa Istefan to allocate the payments for the job. The first estimates for the Ortako¨y project22 have the seal of the Building Council. The estimates were prepared by ‘neccar kalfalarından mu¨nasibleri’ (those suitable from the ranks of the carpenter builders). The estimates were then submitted to the Building Council’s (halife kollarına) deputies. However, a second register of estimates was also produced for the Ortako¨y Mosque,23 and sealed by Seyyid Abdu¨lhalim Efendi, who compiled these estimates, according to the text, on behalf of the Building Council. Therefore, this body was still in charge of the initial stages of building projects, and Abdu¨lhalim Efendi’s involvement is seen from time to time in these documents. The weekly registers of accounts for the Ortako¨y Mosque list the titles and names of all officials involved in the project.24 These are a different group of officials from those involved in the other mosque projects. They are listed in order of their seniority and salary. The most senior was Memur (Official) Rauf Pas¸a with an initial salary of 6,000 kurus¸, and later 3,000.25 Rauf is followed by the katip (scribe), Hasib Salih, with an
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initial salary of 3,000 kurus¸, later listed as 1,000. Hasib Salih’s name is signed at the end of the defter (accounts book) as he was responsible for their compilation. The memur and the katip remain the same for the whole building process of the mosque, as do the financial officials (mutemed), all of whom were Muslim. From the bureaucratic perspective, Hoca Artin Kalfa held a position of importance equal to that of the katip, and was paid the same initial wage of 3,000 kurus¸, and later a wage of 1,000.26 There were also a few more bureaucratic officials involved, including the yazıcı (scribe or clerk), who was paid 1,800 kurus¸. Lower-level bureaucrats included the bas¸ mutemed (chief financial official, paid a salary of 900) and mutemed (financial official, paid 600). Management was paid 18,000 kurus¸ in total. In later registers the names of the above-mentioned individuals are listed with their salaries:27 as well as the Memur Rauf (2,000), Katib Hasib Salih (1,000) and Kalfa Hoca Artin (1,000), there is the Yazıcı Hoca Karapet (600) and Elebas¸ı (chief) Ohannes (500). The financial officials, who were all Muslims, are listed as: Bas¸mutemed Zekeriya (300), Mutemed Ali Ag˘a (200), Mutemed Dig˘er Ali Ag˘a (200) and Kapıcı (porter or doorkeeper) Ahmed Ag˘a (200). Other officials were employed on a weekly basis, such as the ko¨lbas¸ı (foreman), bekci (guardman) and mag˘azacıyan (storeholder) and, in the later registers, the pazarcı (an official responsible for goods), all of whom were involved in the purchase and supply of goods to the site. The list of names and salaries shows that only a small group was responsible for overseeing the Ortako¨y Mosque. The group was a mixture of Muslims, who tended to be the financial officials, and non-Muslims, specifically Armenians, in the other roles. The highest-status officials – the chief official and scribe – always were Muslim, but some of the other officials were a mixture of Muslims and non-Muslims. The officials tied to the bureaucratic bodies received regular daily salaries (yevmiye), whereas those of the other parties (craftsmen and labourers) varied. Although Hoca Artin Kalfa was appointed as overseer for the Ortako¨y Mosque,28 during its construction (yapılmakta olan) bills concerning debts (borcu) were submitted not only to Artin, but also Istefan and the mosque administrators (mu¨tevellileriyle).29 After corruption (ihmalkarlik) was identified in the building process, the Minister of Pious Foundations (Evkaf Nazırı), Rıza, ordered the building of the Ortako¨y Mosque and Hırka-i Saadet building to be turned over to the control of Istefan, and be taken from the control of Artin Kalfa. This was decided by the Building Council and ‘Memur Tevfik Hafız Efendi’nin memurları ve ebniye halifesi ve kalfaları’ (the officials, building assistants and kalfas of the official Tevfik Hafız Efendi). New estimates for the building work were to be done by Istefan.30 One year later, the new estimates for the Ortako¨y Mosque were carried out.31 Therefore, towards the end of the building works, after Artin was replaced by Istefan as the chief kalfa, the group of officials responsible for the mosque changed:32 Memur Raif (2,000 kurus¸), Katib Hasib Salih (1,000 kurus¸), Kalfa Istefani (1,000 kurus¸), Elebas¸ı Yanko (700 kurus¸), Yazıcı Vasilivis (400 kurus¸), Bas¸ Mutemed Zekeriya (300 kurus¸), Mutemed Ali Ag˘a (200 kurus¸), Mutemed Dig˘er Ali Ag˘a (200 kurus¸) and Kapıcı Ahmed Ag˘a (200 kurus¸).
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That Elebas¸ı Ohannes and Yazıcı Karapet were replaced by Yanko and Vasilivis indicates that these two officials were tied to Artin Kalfa. Therefore it can be suggested that the posts of yazıcı and elebas¸ı were connected to the team of the kalfa rather than to the bureaucracy. Elebas¸ı Ohannes and Yazıcı Karapet were Armenians, whereas Yanko and Vasilivis Ottoman– Greeks. This furthermore suggests a tendency for kalfas to work with teams of officials from their own community and that, moreover, Karapet Balyan manipulated the divisions in his own operations by replacing Artin and his underlings with Istefan and his team of Ottoman– Greeks. The relationship of the bodies and individuals involved in the Ortako¨y Mosque to Karapet Balyan is not detailed in any of these transactions of the bureaucracy. However, as an article in Hayasdan dated 1846 (mentioned in Pamukciyan) makes clear, Artin was Karapet’s assistant architect; he was awarded the Nis¸an-ı Iftihar and did an excellent job in the Hırka-i S¸erif Mosque. However, the article states that when he worked on the Ortako¨y Mosque, Karapet Balyan became jealous of the favour the sultan showed Artin. Therefore, Karapet replaced him with an Ottoman– Greek kalfa at the Egyptian viceroy’s palace where they were working at that time.33 Since the building of the Hırka-i S¸erif, Ortako¨y and Dolmabahc e Mosques can be tied to Artin and Istefan, it is reasonable to tie them to Karapet Balyan. Artin was removed from the Hırka-i S¸erif and Ortako¨y projects on the request of the Evkaf Nazırı Rıza according to the Ottoman document, but in the Armenian account, Karapet requested his removal. Similarities between this situation and the anecdote of the Lu¨tfi chronicle that Krikor Balyan installed Abdu¨lhalim Efendi as Director of Imperial Buildings because he did not get along with the former occupant of the post,34 suggest that Karapet also possessed significant authority over the bureaucratic officials and could ask them to do as he wished. The identity of the officials changes from project to project – from Osman Tevfik Efendi and El-Hac Efendi for the Mecidiye Mosque, to Necip Bey Efendi and Hasib Pas¸a for the Tes¸vikiye. This lack of continuity meant that officials could not have been a defining influence over mosque projects. Abdu¨lhalim Efendi’s role in supervising estimates was significant in the early years (around 1848), but he is not mentioned past that point. Instead, the only constant is that these projects can be connected to the operations of Karapet and Nigog˘os – whether through the Balyans themselves or their kalfa, Artin, Istefan or Ohannes. Collaboration with Institutional Bodies on Imperial Works in the 1860s and 1870s Ministry of the Imperial Treasury (Hazine-i Hassa) Archival documentation shows that the Ministry of the Imperial Treasury supervised most of the late-Tanzimat building works under Serkis and Agop Balyan’s control. The Ministry issued one register for the Kag˘ıthane Mosque repaired in 1280/1864,35 as well as another register that documents the building of ovens and a press as well as the pavilion and mosque complex.36 Building accounts for out-buildings on the site
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of the Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque from the late 1860s to early 1870s are partially found within the Hazine-i Hassa Defterleri.37 The Treasury also documented the Beylerbeyi Palace, which was Serkis and Agop’s major project. Serkis and Agop’s relationship to the Ministry of the Imperial Treasury is not clarified by the case of the Kag˘ıthane Mosque. Only a few officials were involved in this ¨ mer project – the mutemed Mustafa Ag˘a (given a salary of 200 kurus¸) and mutemed Hacı O Ag˘a (with a salary of 234 kurus¸) – and Serkis or Agop Balyan are not referred to in the documentation. The seal is that of Ahilyos (Achilles)38 Zografos, and is in Arabic script. Fetah Efendi is noted as the individual responsible for the defter and the settling of the salaries. It is likely that Ahilyos was a kalfa working for Serkis and Agop, in the role that Artin and Istefan held on earlier projects.39 The use of Ottoman– Greeks in the later years reflects a general growth in their power at the expense of the Armenians, but, at this point, the Balyans were making use of this network.40 Cengiz Go¨ncu¨ found very little evidence in the Ministry of the Treasury’s transactions of Serkis Balyan’s involvement in the Beylerbeyi Palace. Serkis was referred to most often as Ser Kalfa-ı Ebniye-i Hu¨mayun (Chief Kalfa of Imperial Buildings); he was paid by the Sultan’s Chief Intimate (Serkurena eliyle o¨demeler)41 and submitted receipts to the Office of the Sultan’s Chief Intimate for those amounts. Go¨ncu¨ focuses instead on the Ebniye-i Seniyye Anbarı’s (a department within the Hazine-i Hassa Nezareti) management of building the Beylerbeyi Palace.42 The bina memuru (building official) led the team and three different chief building officials (bina emini) presided over the project during its building. This changing of the senior officials in charge of the project indicates that they did not have a strong influence over the project as a whole.43 They were administrators overseeing economic procedures and organizational issues for all major building works.44 The team working under the bina emini consisted of a number of scribes (katip), storehouse administrators (ambarcı), financial officials (mutemed) and building-site night guards (gece bekcileri).45 For each imperial building site the Treasury organized a separate anbar (depot), which had its own administrative staff who worked in conjunction with the pazarcılar (an official responsible for goods) to supply the building site.46 There was also a central depot, C¸ırag˘an Sarayı Anbarı, for all the imperial buildings. This was especially important for the wood, which was used in large quantities for scaffolding. Wood was sent from Sinop, Bartın, Bolu and Varna by boat.47 The central depot’s involvement in the Kag˘ıthane Mosque project of 1862 is indicated by a group of items, including several types of wood, and items such as tekerlik (wheels, round disks) and taht kurs¸un (sheets of lead), supplied from the stores (anbar) of the C¸ırag˘an Palace. This administrative team from the Ministry of the Treasury was separate from a hierarchy of ins¸aat kalfaları (building kalfas), labour (amele) and building tradesmen (ins¸aat esnafı). Kalfas who worked on the Beylerbeyi Palace included Hacı Mıgırdic Kalfa, Yuvan Kalfa and Senekerim Kalfa.48 That these kalfas were tied to the Balyan family, as opposed to official bodies like the Hazine-i Hassa Nezareti, is suggested by the fact that often the same people are employed on a number of jobs and under or by different bodies.
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Ins¸aat defterleri (building registers) referring to the Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque project are kept in the Topkapı Palace Archives.49 This change in the location of the documentation indicates a renewed connection between imperial building works and the palace in the late 1860s to early 1870s. Amongst the Topkapı registers there are estimates quoting prices for items of the architecture and decoration, namely the three different sets of building salaries for the sacred buildings, the minarets and the imperial apartment. However, these estimates neither give names of any officials or kalfas involved, nor are there any seals.50 The documents in the Topkapı also include a plan,51 list of costs for materials and weekly totals of wages for amele (labour),52 but the types of labourers and craftsmen are not listed and only a few suppliers named. There are no weekly accounts for the general labour and purchasing costs (icmal defteri) for the mosque, whether in the Topkapı or the documentation of the Ministry for the Imperial Treasury. Accounts from a private collection concerning the Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque published by Tug˘lacı53 do, however, show the officials involved. One account states that with the involvement of the deputy (hulefa) of that district, Arif Efendi, estimates were drawn up, salaries specified and several experts (erbab-ı vukuf) appointed: ‘Barborini ve Hacı Dimitri ve Ku¨cu¨k Ohannes ve Panayot ve Fenerli Nikoli ve Hacı Yani kalfalar.’54 An estimate was to be prepared by the Kalfa of Imperial Buildings, Serkis Bey (‘Mabeyn-i Hu¨mayun kalfası saadetlu Serkis Bey tarafından bir kes¸if defteri yapılarak’) and he was appointed head of the work (mu¨bas¸eret olunmus¸). Dated 1869, the document is signed by the ¸sehremaneti (prefecture). The council of experts were mostly foreign architects and Ottoman– Greeks. They served the role of the Building Council. The council was involved in allocating and supervising works but there is no reference to any auction of contracts or competition between contractors. The role of this council of experts was, presumably, in addition to the supervision of the bureaucratic body that oversaw the work and supplied the finances (such as the Ministry of the Treasury) and of the prefecture, which was reestablished by this point (having been abolished in 1831). Indeed, that Serkis was appointed to this work by the ¸sehremaneti was a continuation of the old process of the mimarbas¸ı being appointed by the prefecture. Yet Serkis Balyan’s operations continued to be, on the whole, separate from the state bodies. He had his own kalfas; on the Valide Mosque project this was Bedros. He also worked in conjunction with Raif Efendi, who was the chief building official (referred to as ‘C¸ırag˘an ebniyesi memuru Raif Efendi’ and ‘Memur-u Ebniye-i Ali Raif Efendi’).55 It can be concluded that the Balyan family’s ties to the official bodies were never entirely clear. They appear to have changed over time. For instance, Karapet and Nigog˘os carried out works in conjunction with the Building Council, the Ministry of Pious Foundations and the Treasury, whereas Serkis and Agop predominantly worked with the Treasury but also the prefecture and committee of experts. Despite this necessary collaboration with the bureaucratic bodies that oversaw projects, the Balyan family members did not have important roles in any of the departments. They were not
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in charge of a state office in the sense of the mimarbas¸ı (Chief Imperial Architect), a position that no longer existed in the Ottoman building milieu of the midnineteenth century.
The Use of Local Ottoman Craftsmen and Labourers (Amele) Craftsmen and Labourers in Karapet and Nigog˘os’s Imperial Works The networks of craftsmen and labourers involved in the projects carried out by Karapet and Nigog˘os, according to the amele section of the building registers, are the focus of this section, as are Pars Tug˘lacı’s findings on the Dolmabahc e Palace. The example of the Dolmabahc e shows how building operations of this period continued to incorporate regional patterns of supply and locally made items, despite the image of the Tanzimat as a time of transformation. However, there was a discernible increase in the numbers of Armenians employed on building teams. Tug˘lacı identifies a number of Armenian craftsmen employed on the Dolmabahc e Palace: iron gates were the work of Krikor Malakyan, gilded decoration that of Bedros Sırabıyan (or Mo¨syo¨ Pierre),56 wall painting and design by Hacı Mıgırdic C¸arkian, and wall and ceiling paintings by Sopon Bezirciyan,57 assisted by Ohannes Ajemiyan and David Triantz. The ceiling painting of the Audience Hall was by Kapriyel Kalfa (Mıgırdic iyan).58 The construction accounts provide little specific information about labourers and craftsmen (amele) employed on the mosques. As these documents do not generally give names, connections are not seen. Instead, a more general discussion is possible about continuity with local historic usages. It is clear, for instance, that Karapet and Nigog˘os relied on employing local craftsmen and labourers to execute the bulk of their works. However they used foreign experts for particular elements. The Hırka-i S¸erif Mosque project59 employed many of the craftsmen and labourers seen in construction works of the past: stone-cutters (tas¸cı), brick-makers (tug˘lacı), drains constructors (lag˘ımcı), mortar suppliers (horasancı), lead suppliers (kurs¸uncu), plasterers (sıvacıyan), masons (duvarcıyan) and porters (amele-i hammalan). The Mecidiye Mosque project also incorporated a basic team of neccaran (carpenters), duvarciyan (masons), rencperan (day labourers) and sıvacıyan (plasterers). There were weekly charges allotted to the Tas¸cı Nikoli for piece-work. The Tes¸vikiye Mosque project included some additional types of craftsmen and labourers, such as pardahciyan (polishers), tayinciyan (contractor of supplies), as well as the basic team of neccaran, silciyan (planer), tas¸cıyan, hamamcıyan (wall-builder), sıvacıyan, duvarcıyan, nakkas¸cıyan (decorator) errekes¸an (sawyer), hırdad or haddad (blacksmith), hamal (porter), harckaran (mortar-maker), rencperan and tekneciyan (boat driver). Various salaries (masarifat-ı mu¨teferrika) included allocations to other craftsmen, who were in effect subcontractors. These buildings were built by, in the main, unskilled workers such as day labourers and porters, but also a large number of workers employed on structural features such as
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the hamamcıyan; and the carpenters and masons (neccaran and duvarciyan) also held primary roles in the construction. Yet there were considerable numbers of decorators (nakkas¸an), plasterers (sıvacıyan) and planers (silciyan), showing the new importance of interior and exterior decoration. Nevertheless, the documentation only reflects the most basic elements of the team; it seems most likely that a large number of transactions were privately made. The Dolmabahc e Mosque, which was documented by weekly accounts (icmal defteri) issued by the Evkaf, offers richer information. The labourers and craftsmen employed on the mosque project are listed in these accounts. The continuity of these labourers and craftsmen with those employed to build mosques in the classical period and eighteenth century is surprising.60 The basic team of the Ayazma Mosque from the mid-eighteenth century included: tas¸cıyan, neccaran, hamamcıyan, duvarcıyan, lag˘ımcıyan, hammalat, rahabiyan, zinciran (chain-maker), koyuncuyan-ı kece, mutemeden and katip. The list from the first week of construction of the Dolmabahc e Mosque (that we have surviving documents for) includes: yazıcıyan (scribes), neccaran (carpenter), marango¨zan (carpenter), errekes¸an (sawyer), ressaman (painter), tenekeyen (tinsmith), nakkas¸an (decorator), sıvacıyan (plasterer), tas¸cıyan (stone-cutter), duvarcıyan (mason), hammalan (porter), harc karan (mortar-maker, plasterer), renc peran (day labourer), tekneciyan (boat driver, presumably for delivery of materials), lag˘ımcıyan (sewerman), kec eciyan (felt-maker), mag˘azacıyan (shop/store holder) and mutemeden (financial official).61 Other workers were employed later in the building of the Dolmabahc e Mosque: dog˘ramacıyan (furniture-maker),62 oymacıyan (sculptor), yeraltıcıyan (tunnel-builder),63 kurs¸uncuyan (lead-pipe maker), suyolcuyan (waterways constructor), camcıyan (glass-maker),64 kalafatcıyan (caulkers),65 demirci (steel workers),66 kalemkaran (hand painters),67 silciyan (planer), sivaciyan-i somaki (worker of plaster imitating porphyry),68 and mermerciyan (marble workers).69 These additional workers reflect the different parts of the mosque being worked on during the building process and the flexible employment of the teams.70 Two developments that characterize the works under Karapet and Nigog˘os are illustrated by the Dolmabahc e Mosque. The first is a new decorative emphasis, particularly with regards to interior decoration. Painters (ressam and kalemkar) are employed throughout the building, as well as decorators (nakkas¸), plasterers (sıvacı), carpenters/furniture-makers (dog˘ramacı), sculptors (oymacı) and scagliola craftsmen (sıvacı-i somaki). There are also stone-cutters and masons employed in large numbers until the end of construction, reflecting their role not only in structural work, but also in the exterior’s decorative stone-carving. The second development is the incorporation of new technology. This is reflected in the importance of glass suppliers for the large windows, but also in the scagliola worker. Other craftsmen may, although keeping a traditional name, have used new technology. For instance, the errekes¸an may have used steam-powered saws.71 This is likely to have been the case for ressam, nakkas¸, tas¸cı and many other old titles. As seen above, Karapet Balyan gave his patronage to painters, such as Umed Behzad who worked in an
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Italianate style, and both Ohannes Serveryan and Nigog˘os Balyan promoted stonecarving in the European manner. Despite these innovations, the large number of day labourers (rencper) along with porters (hammal) and other hard labourers shows how mosque-building relied on subordination of the masses. This was not the slave labour seen in the building of the Su¨leymaniye, but it still relied on basic labourers being employed in large numbers on low wages. It is likely that cheap Armenian labourers from the provinces were employed, as was seen in the factories. In the novel L’Amira, it is said about a church built by He´rotik Amira: ‘The money was provided by the inhabitants and the “bandoukhts” [Armenians from the provinces who had come to Constantinople in search of work] had worked for free on Sunday.’72 The building of the Ortako¨y Mosque is also documented by weekly accounts (icmal defteri), but these are less informative than those from the Dolmabahc e. The teams include mostly traditional manual labourers and those associated with structural aspects of building: neccaran, marango¨zan, silciyan, lag˘ımcıyan, tas¸cıyan, duvarcıyan, hammal, hamamcıyan, irgad and rencperan, alongside officials such as bekciyan, mag˘azacıyan, pazarcıyan and mutemed. As in the building of the Dolmabahc e Mosque, there was a heavy reliance on rencperan (day labourers) and the ırgadcıyan (workmen). The skilled craftsmen changed over time, as they did for the case of the Dolmabahc e Mosque. These changes reflect the building process and the flexible employment of the teams to suit this process. At the beginning of construction, the emphasis is on neccaran (carpenters), hamamcıyan (wall-builders), lag˘ımcıyan (drainsmen) and marango¨zan (carpenters) with a few references to tas¸cıyan, silciyan and errekes¸an. By the end, only tas¸cıyan, duvarcıyan, hammalan, rencperan, tenekeciyan, silciyan, neccaran, marango¨zan, mag˘azacıyan, bekciyan and mutemeden are employed. This list does not include many of the types of labourers and craftsmen employed on the Dolmabahc e Mosque, which was not any more lavishly decorated than the Ortako¨y, which indicates the Evkaf’s unreliable bookkeeping at this time.73 Labourers and craftsmen are referred to as amele (although master (ustad) is not seen, chief (bas¸ı) is). There are few indications of any group identity or cohesion among the labourers and craftsmen, which makes it difficult to draw any conclusions about their affiliations to other organizations or guild-type structures. The indication of hierarchy given by references to craftsmen and labourers as lag˘ımcı/lag˘ımcıbas¸ı may suggest that they were employed by a central body that resembled guilds. That the labourers and craftsmen employed on the Beylerbeyi Palace were mostly esnaf makes this likely. Karapet Balyan made direct payments to tradesmen, indicating that they were operating under their own management, independent from the state.74 It can be concluded that traditional workers and cheap labour, such as day labourers and porters, with occasional painters, decorators, sculptors and other more skilled workers, were the backbone of imperial building works under Karapet and Nigog˘os. Above all, their operations took advantage of the systems used for building Constantinople, supplemented them with modern techniques and materials, as well as foreign contractors, and used efficient managerial strategies. However, a weakness of
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the documents is that they tend not to mention international connections. Such connections can occasionally be seen in the transactions of the Foreign Office (Hariciye); for instance a Greek national sawyer (bıckıcı) Ikseno Koniko was employed on the Ortako¨y Mosque,75 but the building registers largely remain silent on international connections and mention only the basic team. Because the building registers do not provide the names of the labourers and craftsmen, no statements can be made about the importance of Armenian networks to specific works. Given the strong position of Armenian tradesmen and Armenian guilds at this time, it is likely that Armenians formed a majority in the teams. The lists of suppliers show this. Craftsmen and Labourers in Serkis and Agop’s Imperial Works In the construction of the Beylerbeyi Palace, masters of a technical skill or craft were employed from ins¸aat esnafı (organization of building tradesmen, or guilds). Nakkas¸, hammal, rencper and lag˘ımcı tended to be Muslims. Some Muslims worked as sıvacı. However, the neccar, sebilci, hamamci and tas¸ı, c as well as other branches of craftsmen and guilds related to architecture, were almost entirely non-Muslim.76 Armenians, Ottoman– Greeks and foreigners were used to implement new technologies and styles, as well as luxury items. For instance, the oymacı (carver) Hristo was employed to create the balustrade of the stairs of the Mabeyn (a part of the palace), garden lattice-work, gratings on doors of the Mabeyn, kafes (grilles or gratings) on the doors of the Harem and the battle tools on the Imperial Gate.77 Registers that record the construction of mosques by Serkis and Agop do not give the same kind of detailed information as the registers concerning the Beylerbeyi Palace. The mosques of the 1860s and 70s are also less well documented than the Dolmabahc e and Ortako¨y mosques. For the Kag˘ıthane Mosque, only a few officials are listed, such as mutemed Mustafa Ag˘a (given a salary of 200 kurus¸) and mutemed Hacı ¨ mer Ag˘a (with a salary of 234). A small group of craftsmen and labourers for the O Kag˘ıthane Mosque are noted along with their cost, these include neccaran, dog˘ramacı, duvarcı, hamamcı and rencperan.78 Additional specialist craftsmen were employed for piece-work, for instance demirci Madiros. Estimates taken for the Kag˘ıthane Mosque indicate that other kinds of labourers and craftsmen may have been involved. They show that the work included much paintwork and gilding. The paintwork encompassed the mihrab, the kursi and the entirety of the interior walls. Gilding was reserved mostly for important pieces such as the mihrab and kursi. Plasterwork and special attention to new balustrades are noted, and a substantial section of the estimates is devoted to glass purchases.79 There are no details about the employment of basic craftsmen and labourers for the construction of the Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque. Private papers show the involvement of high-status craftsmen who were contracted directly to supply specific items. For instance, Madiros lists furnishings constructed for the complex, including doors to the mausoleum.80 The purchasing of other items is noted, such as the chandeliers.81 Further candelabras and silver grilles were purchased from C¸ıracızade
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Serkis.82 These transactions show that some aspects, especially elements of the furnishings, were outsourced to different contractors.
Purchased Goods (Mubayaat) Goods Purchased for Imperial Works of the 1840s– 1850s The networks of suppliers who provided materials and manufactured items for imperial building works spread across Constantinople, but also extended much further afield. The identities and locations of these suppliers are recorded by the mubayaat section of the building registers for the mosques. Go¨ncu¨’s and Tug˘lacı’s research has shed light on the case of the Dolmabahc e Palace. The items purchased to fill the Dolmabahc e Palace undeniably show a strong connection to Parisian manufacturers as well as those of other European centres. Documents of the Hazine-i Hassa Nezareti confirm that goods were ordered from Europe for the Bes¸iktas¸ Sahilsarayı (coastal palace).83 In the palace today there are countless English and French Baccarat chandeliers, Murano chandeliers and porcelain from Se`vres and Meissen. 84 A large proportion of the goods were supplied by domestic Ottoman factories. For instance, a number of carpets were from the imperial factory at Hereke, and fabrics were also ordered for the Bes¸iktas¸ Palace.85 Other Ottoman items include cabinets and mother-of-pearl work, carpets from Manisa, Go¨rdes and Us¸ak, as well as from Fezhane and Kayseri.86 Goods were procured from private Armenian– Ottoman manufacturers, such as the Ku¨tahya porcelain-tiled table in the Harem hamam by Kalust Posbiyikian.87 High-value raw materials were sourced from abroad for the Dolmabahc e Palace, particularly materials required for their decorative effect, but this was usually undertaken by a non-Muslim intermediary. For instance, Nis¸an Tas¸cıyan shipped the stone for the palace from Malta.88 Precious marbles were generally obtained from within the Empire; the palace is faced with white marble from the Marmara Islands and the interior with veined marble and porphyry. A document states that in 1849 Karapet’s employee, Foti, transported porphyry columns from Bergama.89 Documentation concerning goods purchased (mubayaat)90 for mosque-building works under Karapet and Nigog˘os gives more basic information concerning types of goods, names of suppliers and their locations. Judgements can be made about whether the types of suppliers had changed from the past; that is, whether they were intermediary traders, proto-companies or craftsmen directly supplying their goods. Furthermore, because the names of the suppliers are written, the ethnic make-up of the networks can be determined. The bureaucratic bodies did not record most of the mosque projects in any detail, as was seen above in relation to the labourers and craftsmen. The Hırka-i S¸erif Mosque registers91 include brief entries on materials purchased. One section covers various goods (es¸ya-i mu¨tenevvia), including lead (kurs¸un), nails (mismar), iron (demir), tin (teneke), rough stone (moloz). The other section covers goods purchased from a shop (mag˘aza).
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The register for the Mecidiye Mosque is similarly sparse,92 listing a few goods for each week. For instance, in week one, wood (kereste), iron (demir) and stone (seng), as well as non-specific goods were bought perakende (from retailers). Towards the end of the building work, in week 26, there are specific items, including Malta Tas¸ı, Yalova Tas¸ı and Kars¸emce Tas¸ı and the cost of transporting the goods by hammal (porters), and additional items such as kettan (flax) and o c¨mlek (pots). The final week’s (week 28) items include a larger variety of luxury goods, curtains for the door (kapu perdesi), 15 different types of paint (boya), and brushes ( fırca). As construction progressed, items seem to have been bought on an ad hoc basis from individual sellers as well as regular bulkitem suppliers. The Tes¸vikiye Mosque documents93 list a large number of basic, purchased goods (wood, nails, bricks, iron/steel, many types of paint, stone, tiles, lead piping, sand, glass, locksmiths’ equipment) as well as items of furniture that required extra expertise or were ready-made (such as the balustrade of the mahfil (private gallery), the ‘alem (finial for the top of the dome), the candlesticks, the lattice work and grating, the fountain, the nis¸antas¸ları (marking stones)). Goods were obtained from retailers ( perakende). The Tes¸vikiye Mosque building works used several of the same methods of supply that were used in the past. Wood was sourced from many of the provinces that supplied building works when the Imperial Architects’ Office existed – Bartın, Sinop and Akc es¸ehir, for instance – and the types were familiar: medlar (yenidu¨nya), oak (mes¸e) and hornbeech (gu¨rgen). The information regarding suppliers to the Dolmabahc e Mosque building works, and their locations, allows us to talk more specifically about the human networks involved. It is immediately clear that the networks were local and Armenian. Trades dominated by Armenians include brick-maker (tug˘lacı), nail-maker (mismarcı), brass foundry worker (du¨kmeci) and iron-maker (demirci). Most workers were located in areas associated with their specific trade, such as Galata, Bes¸iktas¸, Tahtakale and Kuzguncuk (non-Muslim areas) and Kasımpas¸a and Hasko¨y (fairly mixed areas).94 For instance, Hasko¨y was populated with many brick-makers, and Tahtakale and Bes¸iktas¸ with iron-makers. Armenians (but also some Ottoman– Greeks) worked as intermediary traders such as pazarcı and bezirgan. They supplied a number of goods for building jobs. These traders most often operated in Galata and were suppliers of building materials made locally, although some also supplied foreign goods. A handful of names recur throughout the Dolmabahc e Mosque building registers. Three, in particular, are from Galata: Pazarcı Hac adur, who sold paper, wooden handrails, nails, ‘English work’ (ingiliz kare) and mixed goods (es¸ya-i mu¨tenevvia); Mag˘azacı Apogom, who sold ‘Western goods’ (Frengi es¸ya), locks, paper, paint and glass; and Nikolaki Bezirgan, who frequently sold tin and marble to the Dolmabahc e Mosque building works. This apparent growth of a group of stockists in Galata is surprising because the region is thought to have developed after the Crimean War and an influx of foreigners.95 The nature of the materials purchased for the Dolmabahc e Mosque shows great continuity with the past.96 Most of the materials and suppliers remain the same for the
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whole building process, and only occasional new types of materials and supplier locations occur. Nevertheless, how these materials were used may have changed; for instance, walls were constructed with layers of stone, brick and a facing of plaster. A further change was the use of glass, which had increased in quality and availability. The locations of Dolmabahc e Mosque suppliers also show the permanence of local systems: most suppliers are from within Constantinople and the Aegean region. Many of these areas had long been associated with a particular material/product, for instance ku¨feki (sandstone) from Makrihora (present-day Bakırko¨y),97 marble from Sakız and the Marmara,98 kirec (lime) from Bosphorus areas such as C¸engelko¨y and C¸ubuklu, and sand from the flats of Darınca. Goods reflect the city’s industrialization under Armenian leadership, such as iron from Tahtakale and Kasımpas¸a, bricks (tug˘la) from Hasko¨y and Bes¸iktas¸ – although the goods were not innovations, but the growth of old centres and products. These networks confirm that Karapet’s and Nigog˘os’s operations mostly used pre-existing systems for the supply of materials and also used the same regular supplier teams (who were local, with the majority from the Armenian community). Similarly, there was a regular team of local (and predominantly Armenian) suppliers for the Ortako¨y Mosque. The names that recur in nearly every register for that mosque include: Keresteci (timber stockist) Abraham zimmi, Demirci (ironmonger) Atom, Duvarcıbas¸ı (chief mason) Hoca Mihail, Tas¸cıbas¸ı (chief stone-cutters) Agop and Krikor, Hamamcıbas¸ı (chief wall-builder) Ohannes, Lag˘ımcıbas¸ı (chief drains-maker) Halil Ag˘a, and Hamparsun. Also in some defters are: Ku¨rkcu¨ler Kettancisi (fur- and cloth-supplier) Hasan Ag˘a, Mismarcı (nail-supplier) Simid, Halatcı (rope-supplier) Mustafa Ag˘a, and Hacı Mustafa, and Demirci Hristo. A later group of defters includes: a brick company in Hasko¨y (tug˘la kampanyası),99 Keresteci Agop (as opposed to Abraham), and Dimitri, Panayot and Simyon supplying kirec (lime). However, iron still comes from Demirci Atom, and seng-i moloz (rough stone) from Mihail zimmi, as well as from Karapet zimmi. Some further new items (and their stockists) include mismar (nails) bought from Sopon in Galata, and Ortako¨ylu¨ Agop zimmi. Nonetheless, the team remains small throughout the building process and names and regions occur repeatedly. Some stockists that we see frequently are Foti zimmi, a lime-supplier from C¸engelko¨y,100 and Karapet zimmi, from whose quarry lime is also purchased.101 Some registers offer further information on some of the stockists, for instance that the aforementioned Hoca Mihail Duvarcıbas¸ı (chief mason) has his own quarries in C¸engelko¨y from where moloz or rough stone is sourced.102 Lime or kirec is sourced from the same Duvarcıbas¸ı Hoca Mihail, who procures it from various locations, such as C¸ubuklu. Mihail also organizes the transport of the lime from these locations by mavna (barge). Mihail has several duties, as well operations of a considerable size and status. It is clear from the documentation that many of Karapet and Nigog˘os’s regular team of suppliers – mostly local Armenians – engage in large-scale operations, perhaps due to their repeated employment on imperial works. The materials used on the Ortako¨y Mosque, as on the Dolmabahc e, had continuity with the past. This suggests that the expansion of Armenian suppliers was not totally
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new, but represented the growth of local industries. There are, nevertheless, some innovations, such as the favoured status of Malta Tas¸ı (Malta Stone), the use of decorative faux-marble or porphyry (somaki), and stucco (siva). New technology enabled the innovative use of some traditional materials: wood was cut into elaborate designs with steam-powered saws, and different building materials were layered. This use of new techniques gave the works the modern appearance that the sultan-patron desired, and prevented them from being vastly expensive. Karapet and Nigog˘os ran their operations in an efficient manner that largely relied on local systems – for the supply of both labour and materials. The majority of suppliers were local Armenians, over whom they had a dominant role as amira. However, that the Armenians did not have a total monopoly is shown by the Muslims, Ottoman– Greeks and Jews who regularly appear in the construction registers, for instance the Muslims Halil Ag˘a the Lag˘ımcıbas¸ı and Halatcı Mustafa Ag˘a, and many Muslim-owned quarries. Purchased Goods for Serkis and Agop’s Imperial Works Armenian master craftsmen were responsible for the majority of the goods supplied for the Beylerbeyi Palace, although some new goods were produced by foreigners, such as stucco or plaster that imitated coloured marble.103 A notable example of a highly skilled Armenian craftsman is Vortik Kemhaciyan, who carried out the extensive carpentry work for the Beylerbeyi Palace and the C¸ırag˘an Palace. His atelier manufactured the doors and windows as well as other carpentry work.104 The painter Sopon designed the furniture.105 Sopon Bezirciyan worked on the Hu¨nkar Kasrı at I˙zmit and the Kag˘ıthane Aziziye Kasrı as well as other imperial works of the Balyans where he served as designer and painter.106 Agreements were made with the esnaf and with traders for the supply of materials for the Beylerbeyi Palace. For instance, Rali Bezirgan sold raw iron, and ropes and pulleys were produced by Halatcı Emin Ag˘a and Makaracı Mahmud Ag˘a.107 Therefore, although the majority of suppliers were Armenian, other communal groups were involved. Certain building materials for the Beylerbeyi Palace, such as paints and dies (boya), glass (cam) and nails (civi), were bought from shops in Galata that included pazarcılar (market sellers), nalburiyelik (hardware shops), kırtasiye (stationers) and building materials stockists.108 Unlike the rich documentation on the Beylerbeyi Palace, there is little information concerning suppliers for the Kag˘ıthane Mosque. The majority of the costs listed in the first notebook109 do not include prices of raw materials but instead are breakdowns of charges for tasks such as the painting of the interior of the mosque and for transport. The subsequent notebook110 includes a few more purchased items and charges for the extraction and transport of items, but the locations of the sellers and their names are not noted. The Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque documentation sheds more light on the supply networks that Serkis and Agop used. The documentation published by Tug˘lacı begins with estimates of the number of items required and their cost, many of which
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indicate that suppliers’ locations had not changed since the classical period; for instance, mortar made from pure sand was extracted from Makrıhora.111 The Topkapı Archives’ documentation about the Valide Mosque indicates both continuity and change. Many of the suppliers of materials listed are local subjects, for instance Tas¸cı Savriyo from whom ku¨feki (sandstone) was purchased, Abraham zimmi from whom stone was purchased, and Tas¸cı Ahmed Ag˘a, also referred to as Ahmed Hoca, who supplied marble for various items such as window frames and eaves. Ahmed Hoca was also paid for transport costs. Bricks were purchased from Tug˘lacı Serkis and Hac adur, and the majority of the materials listed were unchanged both from those used in earlier periods and in the Beylerbeyi Palace: moloz (rough stone) for the foundations, halat (ropes), kiremit (red roof tiles), mermer (marble), kirec (lime), alcı (plaster of Paris) and kum (sand).112 Another document lists Hoca Bedros, Hoca Ahmed, Tas¸cı Hoca Melik and Kurs¸uncu Hurs¸id Ag˘a.113 Many of these names also are seen among the suppliers for the Beylerbeyi Palace, indicating the same networks were used. Another Topkapı document114 includes a number of indications towards the industrial transformations occurring in the late Tanzimat. The ‘alems (finials) for the minarets were obtained from the Kasımpas¸a du¨kme fabrikası (the factory for brass founding in Kasımpas¸a), showing the expansion of industrial methods of production in certain districts of Constantinople. A number of items, including marble and Trieste stone, were delivered by barge (mavna) and needed porters (hammal) to transport them to the site. The most noticeable change was that many items, including lime, sand, soil for the foundations and bricks, were ‘Yenikapı vesaire iskelelerden cıkarılan’ (emerging from Yenikapı and other ports) and then transported either by hammal or by the skill of ‘merkubcu Abbas marifetiyle’ (Abbas, the mounted transporter) from the port to the building site.115 Another document lists curtains purchased from the imperial factory, showing how these new factories were important for furnishing not only the imperial palaces but also the mosques.116 Transactions published by Tug˘lacı document the involvement of independent furnishers and luxury-goods merchants supplying items to the Valide Mosque. Silverwork was purchased from Savagir in 1871;117 according to another receipt, items were purchased from the furniture supplier Nalyan Fre`res;118 the jewellers Bog˘os and Sebuh also supplied items in 1872,119 and in 1873.120 These luxury goods were required not just for the mosque and the imperial loggia, but also filled the mausoleum. Many of these items were listed in the vakfiyye. The number of sellers supplying the Valide Mosque suggests that this project was characterized by more complex networks than those of earlier works. However, this impression may simply reflect the survival of the receipts for the Valide Mosque as opposed to the more sparse building accounts of the Ministry of Pious Foundations and the Treasury. Nevertheless, the numerous foreign contractors – and in particular furnishers – who are known to have been involved in the Aziziye Mosque project indicates that the acquisition of luxury items from a variety of sellers was a characteristic of mosque-building in the late Tanzimat.
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Elite Armenian Craftsmen and Proto-Companies in the 1860s–1870s The repeated collaboration of the Balyans with a group of wealthy Armenians on imperial jobs – and the expansion of these Armenians into industrial and capitalistic enterprises in the Tanzimat – is illustrated by an article in the Levant Herald. A project is on foot for converting the furniture factory of Vortik Efendi into a joint-stock enterprise. Vortik Efendi has, it will be remembered, made the greater part of the furniture for the palaces of Dolmabahc e and C¸ırag˘an. It is a question whether the large profits made by Vortik Efendi are not mainly due to the exclusive character of his ‘clientele’; and since it is not believed that His Majesty the Sultan has the intention of furnishing another palace for the present, it might turn out that the oyster – if we may be allowed the comparison – has been already swallowed, and that the shareholders would find that they had paid a high price for the shells.121 The Balyans frequently collaborated with Nalyan Fre`res, whose business also boomed over the Tanzimat due to their continued involvement in the furnishing of imperial palaces. An advertisement placed by Nalyan Fre`res in The Oriental Advertiser/ Le Moniteur Oriental in 1891 states: Furniture Factory In All Styles. Nalian Brothers. Tapestry designers, furniture stores, offices, workshops and depots: Chichli, Techfikie´ quarter. We have the honour to inform you that, in order to reduce our overhead costs, while providing an extension to our furniture factory, we can offer relatively cheaper prices, furniture of whatever is desired be it elegance or solidarity, we have built a large building in Chichli containing all kinds of joinery workshops, wood carving, tapestry, embroidery, decoration, gilding, etc.122 The ability of Armenian craftsmen and suppliers to act as intermediaries, as both transporters of stylistic and technological innovations to the Ottoman Empire and actual trade negotiators working with European manufacturers, was important to the continued success of the Balyans. As these highly skilled Armenians were locally based, it was economical to employ them. Those whose careers were facilitated through Balyan patronage may have, in return, worked for minimal wages. They might also have carried out projects quickly due to a communal loyalty to the Balyans. The scale of production is the most significant aspect of the operations of this group of elite Armenian craftsmen-furnishers. The activities of Kemhaciyan and Nalyan Fre`res, as well as countless other craftsmen and furnishers who supplied the imperial works, changed from being in small workshops to factory-like and depot settings. These factories made items that were mass-produced using new technologies, such as steam-powered saws. Armenian craftsmen and furnishers, such as Kemhaciyan and Nalyan Fre`res, expanded their operations to have multiple bases over Constantinople, perhaps even other cities.
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Chief Craftsmen Paid Ale‘l-Hesab: Strategies for Efficiency and Specialization Ale‘l-Hesab in Karapet and Nigog˘os’s Imperial Works Specialist craftsmen were employed by the Balyan family to carry out elements of the architecture and decoration of imperial works. They were paid on account (ale’l-hesab) and were not given a regular salary like the amele (labourers) listed in the icarat. Payments for individual items on account (ale’l-hesab) were dealt with in the final section of the building registers for each project, whether a palace or a mosque. The delegation of aspects of a building to an individual master craftsman or supplier and his payment on account (ale’l-hesab) was not a new business practice. In the building works of the classical period such as the Su¨leymaniye Mosque, along with mubayaat and icarat, payments to individual purveyors/craftsmen for materials or piece-work (ber vech-i maktu) are seen.123 Payment on account became a prominent characteristic of Karapet and Nigog˘os’s works and shows their concern for efficiency. The delegation of various parts of the works meant that all the parts could be worked on at the same time and thus the whole completed quickly. Delegation also meant that the team could be highly specialized, since experts in one area would be employed to concentrate on that duty. The Ortako¨y Mosque project included the delegation of parts of the work and payment for these aspects on account (ale‘l ‘hesab). In the early weeks of the project this is seen for the structural components of the building. For instance, Duvarcıbas¸ı Hoca Mihail is paid a fixed price (maktu’) for the embankment (rıhtım) on which the mosque stands and that extends into the Bosphorus channel.124 He is not just paid for the construction but also for supply and transport of goods such as seng-i moloz (rough stone). He functions as a sub-contractor, responsible for all aspects of that piece of work. There are other ale‘l-hesab payments for structural elements of the Ortako¨y Mosque, including the Tas¸cıbas¸ı Agop who is paid a fixed price for the sandstone walls (ku¨feki duvarları). Hamamcıbas¸ı Ohannes is also paid for the walls of rough stone (moloz duvarları). In addition, the Lag˘ımcıbas¸ı Halil Ag˘a is paid for the building of the foundations (temellerin ins¸aatı). Later in the building process, two craftsmen receive weekly payments (ale‘l-hesab): Tas¸cıbas¸ı Hoca Krikor and Hamamcıbas¸ı Ohannes, neither of whose work is specified – only their charges of around 5,000 and 3,000 kurus¸, respectively. The ale‘l-hesab payments for the later stages of the Ortako¨y Mosque continued to allocate monies for structural elements that needed to be completed. These elements included the construction of the exterior walls (som tas¸ı ins¸a olunmakta olan duvarlar icin) by the Tas¸cıbas¸ı Agop zimmi (who had earlier been responsible for the sandstone walls). However, in these later documents more craftsmen who were furniture and decoration specialists are seen. Tas¸cı Arakil is paid for his work on the minber of the mosque; he is paid a fixed price of 5,000 kurus¸.125 The mihrab is contracted to another individual the following week and made from marble and porphyry (seng-i mermer ve somaki mihrab maktu’) by Tas¸cı Avanis.126
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Regarding furnishings, there are a few payments to the Do¨kmecibas¸ı (metal worker) Hoca Abraham Ag˘a (3,000 kurus¸) and the Dog˘ramacı (carpenter/furniture-maker) Sadiverdi (3,000 kurus¸),127 but the items procured are not specified. However, some later entries do mention the items produced; for instance, Abraham Usta is paid for localar (boxes or lodges, 5,000 kurus¸) over several weeks.128 Another Hoca, Abraham Ag˘a, is paid for the chandeliers or ¸semdanlar (3,000 kurus). Usta Tayar is paid for the grilles or ¸sebekeler (2,000 kurus). Dog˘ramacı Sadiverdi and Usta Atom were also paid but their items not specified. These few names are found throughout the last few documents, showing that these imperial mosques of the 1840s and 1850s were produced by a regular team over several weeks.129 The payments show that the contractors specialized in particular types of construction with particular materials. In many cases, the same names also supplied materials purchased in bulk (mubayaat). Some of the contractors who supplied stone or lime possessed their own quarries (ocak). These contractors had a high status (they are referred to as Hoca, Bas¸ı, and Usta). They produced items for more than one job at a time and so were producing these things on a large scale. Karapet and Nigog˘os employed some of them over several weeks. For instance, Tas¸cıbas¸ı Hoca Apostol, who is paid for the construction of the minarets of the mosque (3,000 kurus¸) and in the following week he is paid 3,029 kurus¸.130 Apostol appears to have collaborated with Istefan Kalfa on many of Karapet Balyan’s works and so may be linked to his patronage.131 The names of some of these chief craftsmen-contractors recur in relation to both mosque-building and the building of the Beylerbeyi Palace. For instance, a Hamamcıbas¸ı Ohannes is employed on the Beylerbeyi Palace to carry out the embankment (rıhtım) of the Divanhane, and is likely the individual employed on the mosques for the same task. The Beylerbeyi accounts refer to a Tas¸cı (named Arakil), a tradesman from whom ku¨feki stone was purchased, and who may be the same person who worked on the minber of the Ortako¨y Mosque. In the accounts are some names of individuals who were also suppliers to the Dolmabahc e Mosque. For instance, Hoca Tas¸cı Apostol supplied marble and Demirci Hoca Abraham supplied metal (ahen) to the Dolmabahc e Mosque. Demirci Hoca Abraham may be the same Hoca Abraham Ag˘a who supplied the ¸semdanlar or the Abraham Usta of the localar of the Ortako¨y Mosque. The fact that a number of names appeared on the registers of both Dolmabahc e and Ortako¨y mosques and the fact that Karapet and Istefan were paid for both mosques at once indicates that the two mosques were built by the same team. The names of the artists, decorators and craftsmen listed by Tug˘lacı (names most likely gained from Armenian but perhaps also European sources) show that the teams for the palaces of this period tended to contain the same individuals, such as Umed Behzad, Sopon Bezirciyan and Vortik Kemhaciyan. The material evidence – the recurring motifs, materials, techniques and architectural elements, discussed in Chapter 5 – also confirms that there was a regular team of craftsmen, artists and decorators. That many of the items, such as the chandeliers, which have Ottoman inscriptions, were made locally is, likewise, suggested by the material evidence.
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Kalfa and Delegation of Building Works to Trusted Associates The employment of a select group of kalfa as assistant architects and overseers was a practice used by the Balyan family throughout the Tanzimat. This section looks at these kalfas’ role, based on references to them in building registers for mosque projects but also individual transactions regarding their status and activities. As this chapter has shown, Karapet Balyan used an efficient system of delegation for the carrying out of elements of construction and decoration of a project through ale‘l-hesab contracts with craftsmen, but he also delegated the organization and implementation of works to kalfa. Karapet Balyan’s group of kalfa oversaw smaller works (and sections of bigger works) on his behalf. This was in part a reflection of the inheritance of the hierarchical system of assistant architects in the Imperial Architects’ Office. However, Armenian precedents could also be seen: merchants of New Julfa never left their homes, whereas those of lower status were actually responsible for the business transactions.132 As Krikor Arzruni wrote in 1881: ‘It is curious that the Armenian population has already applied the principle of division of labour. The industry has passed from father to son. Not only the cities are divided, according to some separate branches of industry, but even villages have their own occupations.’133 Karapet Balyan employed two kalfas to carry out mosques on his behalf, Artin and Istefan. Artin Kalfa was an important member of Karapet’s regular building team. Artin’s seal on the defters for the Ortako¨y Mosque states in Armenian the name Serveryan (սէ րւէ րէ ան). Thus we know he was the son of Ohannes Serveryan, Harutin (Artin in Ottoman– Turkish: ՅՅ (HH) is also written). He was involved in the Hırka-i S¸erif building in 1852: for instance, one document mentions the settlement of the daily wages of the stone-cutters was tied to Artin Kalfa.134 Payments for his work on the Ortako¨y Mosque indicate his seniority: such as one payment of 3,800 kurus¸ in 1848.135 However, he was removed from this project in favour of Istefan. While still working for Karapet, Artin was responsible for the building of a Naval Hospital in 1848,136 additionally, in 1850 he was sent by the Sadaret (Office of the Grand Vizier) to carry out the coastal residence of the Egyptian Governor Abbas Hilmi Pas¸a.137 Then he was employed as official (memur edilen) for the construction of a state building in Beykoz.138 Following his removal from the Ortako¨y project, Artin was in 1861 mu¨teahhit (contractor) of repairs to the prison and outhouses of a ticarethane (firm).139 However, he fell from favour following this project in 1861,140 and in 1864 he was issued with a punishment.141 Istefan was the second kalfa used by Karapet Balyan to oversee his mosque projects. He was Ottoman– Greek142 although no indication of his background is given by his seal, which is in Ottoman. Istefan Kalfa was of a high status: in 1855 he was given the Mecidiye decoration of the fourth class (along with Konstantin Kalfa).143 Many work estimates for the Hazine-i Hassa Nezareti were carried out by Istefan, but he does not seem to have been given a title related to this organization.144 Additionally, in 1848 he (along with Artin and father Ohannes) was appointed to be in charge of mosquebuilding projects by the Ministry of Pious Foundations.
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Istefan worked on several projects, such as the Imperial Apartment in Beykoz and the Mecidiye Barracks in Dolmabahc e, that have been associated with the Balyan family in the past. On both of these, Istefan worked with Tas¸cıbas¸ı Hoca Apostol: for instance, a large amount of stone was purchased for the Beykoz project by Istefan and Hoca Apostol in 1854,145 and dues of Hoca Apostol from Istefan Kalfa were requested by two documents in 1855.146 In 1854 Istefan was paid directly for his work on the Mecidiye Barracks, indicating his senior status on the job.147 In turn, for his employment on the Mecidiye Barracks, Hoca Apostol was paid by Hoca Istefan Kalfa in 1855.148 Istefan was therefore responsible for payment of craftsmen working below him. However, he seems to have been personally tied to the Balyans (not just professionally): he was the guarantor (kefil) of Nigog˘os, for instance.149 Although during the Ortako¨y and Hırka-i S¸erif mosque projects Artin was replaced by Istefan as head of these works, Istefan continued to work for Karapet. The other son of Ohannes Serveryan, Istepan, returned from his education in Paris and may have also worked for the Balyans. An 1861 newspaper may refer to this Istepan, or may simply have assumed that Istefan was Armenian. It states: Her highness the Valide Sultana has, we learn, decided on erecting a large mosque, in accordance with the custom observed by mothers of the Ottoman sovereigns. The site of the new temple has not yet been decided on, but Stepan Calfa, the Armenian architect, has received orders to prepare and submit plans for its erection.150
European Craftsmen and Disputes European Craftsmen in the 1840s– 1850s and the Impact of Nigog˘os’s Contacts in Paris Ottoman documentation does not often reveal Karapet and Nigog˘os’s relationships to foreign and foreign-protected craftsmen, artists and suppliers. That Karapet and Nigog˘os employed foreigners is mainly documented in European language sources. For instance, Journal de Constantinople in 1855 states that Charles Se´chan was in charge of the decoration of one section of the Dolmabahc e Palace.151 In British consular documentation, the architect of the British Embassy, Smith, indicated his place of writing (of a survey of a prison) in 1846 as the ‘palace works’, suggesting a connection with the Balyans’ activities.152 According to The Builder, Smith was in charge of the construction of the Glass Kiosk, and he brought china, frames and doors for the rooms from England.153 Ottoman construction documents generally do not show these international networks. Instead, European mentions and Armenian sources are relied upon for such information. The Ottoman Foreign Ministry’s documentation (Hariciye) occasionally mentions foreigners, for instance the employment of the Greek sawyer Ikseno Koniko on the Ortako¨y Mosque.154 The most notable example of foreign craftsmen’s employment was Charles Se´chan, the decorator responsible for the Paris Nouvel Ope´ra. Louis Bunel’s travel account
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mentions a team of French artist-decorators working on the palace under the direction of the decorator of the Ope´ra, as well as others who were employed in Lyon making designs for the tapestries.155 Archival documents mentioned by Tug˘lacı tell how the sultan decorated Se´chan and Garde, and that Se´chan was owed three million francs.156 Se´chan’s memoirs describe some of the works he carried out. It was also in Paris, in his immense studio on the rue Turgot, that Se´chan executed from 1853 to 1859, the bedroom of Sultan Abdu¨lmecid, the interior of the kiosks of the Sweet Waters of Asia, Ku¨cu¨k C¸iftlik and old seraglio, the apartments of the Sultan and his brother in the palace of Dolmabahc e and Bes¸iktas¸ and finally the auditorium of Dolmabahc e with all its dependencies. The Sultan was dazzled by the incomparable wealth and delighted by the impeccable taste of these splendid decorations: he was amazed at the same time at their relative good value, he was used to paying his European suppliers up to eight or ten times the value of each of their supplies, which moreover, did not prevent Se´chan from making a profit which enabled him to emerge from this business with a great fortune.157 Se´chan’s employment on many of the works of the 1840s and 1850s was characteristic of Karapet’s and Nigog˘os’s operations. They employed numerous specialists to create specific items for the palaces they constructed and paid them individually. However, this system led to problems because these transactions and contracts were rarely recorded, at least not by the Ottoman bureaucratic bodies. Local versus International Contacts and a Dispute Concerning Karapet Balyan In 1861 a petition was sent to the foreign ministry of the Porte by Keresteci Agop Kurdog˘lu. The petition requested that Karapet pay Kurdog˘lu damages because he had not been paid for the provisions ( fournitures) he had supplied for the imperial palaces. The case was brought before le Tribunal de Ticaret, which appointed four referees to produce reports (Jean Lviando and A. Camondo for Karapet Kalfa and Septime Fianchini and Constantin Orland for Kurdog˘lu). The reports expressed diverging opinions, so an umpire, Yorgo Zariffi, was appointed to produce a final report.158 Zariffi ruled in favour of Karapet; thus, Karapet was not responsible for paying for the supplies created for imperial buildings by Kurdog˘lu. This ruling, and the reasons given to support the ruling, show how Karapet operated as an intermediary between the Ministry of the Imperial Treasury and international craftsmen. Karapet, an Ottoman subject, was defended by two Italians, one of whom, Abraham Camondo, was the prime banker to the Ottoman Empire, a Sephardic Jew of Venetian citizenship. The Ottoman– Greek banker Yorgo Zariffi, also hugely influential over Ottoman finance, ruled in his favour. This case indicates Karapet’s connections and relative popularity within the elites of the Levantine and non-Muslim communities at the time and the ability of those elites to determine his fate. That some of those appointed to adjudicate ruled against the
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Russian subject, Kurdog˘lu, indicates a local solidarity. The final decision placed blame for non-payment on the Imperial Treasury, not Karapet.159 From this episode it can be surmised that Karapet used mainly local teams and Armenian colleagues on his building works as an added guarantee of loyalty in the face of the lack of official supervision and as a strategy to avoid disputes. An 1878 petition had a different outcome, reflecting the changed environment of the late-nineteenth century and the fact that local Levantine solidarity was no longer strong enough to support the Balyans. A Dispute Concerning Serkis Balyan, International Furnishers and His Downfall The 1878 petition against Serkis Balyan160 concerns a request for payment submitted by a group of foreign and foreign-protected furnishers, entrepreneurs and others who had provided works for imperial building projects. It was submitted to the Grand Vizier Safvet Pas¸a in the names of the soussigne´s (undersigned) Saverio Calleja (Saveriyo Kalfa, perhaps the Tas¸cı Savriyo who was a supplier to the Valide Mosque161) and Euge`ne Maillard, but was on behalf of a group who included: MM. Chouzery, Charles Bailly, Alexandre Augie`re, ne´gociants Franc ais, Pietro Tedeschi, Anglais, Gallerini, Haliey, Guirot, Autrichien, Gabriel, Russe et Calcinoff, Charhaz et Altecherdjian, Persans, ainsi que d’autres fournisseurs, entrepreneurs et ouvriers, cre´anciers des travaux exe´cute´s a` La Mosque´e Aziziye et a` l’Akaret.’162 The petition requested payment for goods and work carried out for the administration of the Imperial Palace. By the time of the petition, payment had been demanded for three years. The petition stated that the claimants recognized that the Imperial Treasury, which owed the money, might not be capable of paying it, and so they would concentrate on obtaining payment from Serkis for the goods that they had furnished for the Aziziye Mosque and Akaretler.163 The petition shows the Balyans’s vulnerability as intermediaries, as did the petition submitted by Kurdog˘lu. Serkis served a role as a financial intermediary and independent spokesperson with virtually no institutional network of support and no administrative or legal backup. He dealt with a wide range of suppliers, not only from Europe but also from eastwards into Russia and Persia. Whereas in Kurdog˘lu’s case Karapet was defended by wealthy Levantine bankers, in the late 1870s Serkis did not have such powerful networks to rescue him. Instead, presiding over the case was Safvet Pas¸a (also involved in the downfall of the banker Mıgırdic Cezayirliyan). And so, according to the decision, Serkis Balyan was personally responsible for paying these claimants on behalf of the Ottoman state. In effect, Serkis became the victim of his intermediary status between Europe (as well as countries further afield) and the Ottoman Empire, a status that was an important factor enabling his family to achieve such success in earlier years. The Balyans were attractive to the sultans of the Tanzimat, given their limited funds and state resources,
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because they were able to carry out works largely relying on their own networks, their mobility, their efficient methods of employment and organization. However, when, after the Tanzimat, the Empire entered a more severe economic climate, the independent power and wealth of the Balyans was presumed to be the result of ‘irregularities’. Their precarious status, which was mostly separate from state bodies and its administrative records, meant that they were an easy target for such accusations. A later incident shows how, ultimately, Serkis had to look to the extended international networks of the Armenian community for support when he was penalized by the Ottoman state. Serkis’s Downfall and the Intervention of Contacts from Paris Following Serkis Balyan’s disgrace, the confiscation of his property and his exile to Paris in the mid-1880s that occurred soon after the petition from Savriyo Kalfa and Maillard was submitted, it was Agop Kazanyan who came to Serkis’s aid. Kazanyan, a diplomatic intermediary for the Ottoman state in Paris, arranged for Serkis’s pardon and permission for his return to Constantinople. An Irade-i Seniyye (Imperial Decree) that declared that Serkis could return in 1888 followed a request for pardon.164 It can be suggested that Kazanyan had a special degree of gravitas (perhaps due to his European connections) that meant he was able to assist in cases of unfair treatment of Armenians in the Empire; in 1856 he also wrote to the Porte following the banker Mıgırdic Cezayirliyan’s downfall.165 Serkis’s exile and subsequent return reflects how, although Serkis’s contacts with the Parisian world were widespread, he continued to identify himself primarily with Constantinopolitan society and he wished to return there to resume his professional life as an Ottoman architect. This was despite his being penalized by the state, and the increasingly difficult environment under Abdu¨lhamid II. It is clear that there were many different groups and individuals connected to imperial works. Several official bodies oversaw each project – the Ministry of Pious Foundations, Ministry of the Treasury, Building Council and prefecture. Wide-ranging networks of tradesmen, labourers, suppliers, craftsmen and kalfas, who were, in the main, Armenian and from the local areas of Constantinople, engaged in the construction of imperial works. The networks involved in imperial projects were recorded very erratically by the bureaucratic bodies because of the decentralization of building works following the abolishment of the Imperial Architects’ Office and the decline of the Building Council. As there was no central body responsible for architecture, the Balyans were supervised very lightly and never given an executive bureaucratic role. In the late 1870s and early 1880s this intricate web (of which the official documents only show a small part) led to a situation of confusion and recrimination. Serkis Balyan’s downfall, prompted by the petition for payment led by Euge`ne Maillard, is discussed in Chapter 7.
CHAPTER 7 THE DOWNFALL OF SERKIS BALYAN
Une sorte de malentendu re´gnait entre les Arme´niens et les Turcs. Le Sultan Aziz ayant e´te´ de´pose´, la condition des Arme´niens fut totalement change´e sous le nouveau Sultan, et la capitale commenca a` prendre un air triste.1 Serkis Balyan fell from power after the Tanzimat had ended, in the reign of Abdu¨lhamid II. Interpretations of the events leading to his downfall centre on his own culpability. Mustafa Cezar notes that there must have been ‘some failure to do his part’ that led to investigations into his past works and accusations against him in the 1880s.2 Oya S¸enyurt highlights the claims of embezzlement against Serkis during the building of the C¸ırag˘an Palace.3 Although both Kevork Pamukciyan and Pars Tug˘lacı state that there was a conspiracy against Serkis soon after he had been given the title of Ser Mimar-ı Devlet in 1878, they do not elaborate on this or give any sources. This chapter asserts that Serkis Balyan’s downfall stemmed from a combination of the financial turmoil of the Ottoman Empire, the poor supervision of building works throughout the Tanzimat by the official bodies and the rise in the 1880s of the threat of Armenian separatist movements with which Serkis Balyan was accused of involvement. Serkis Balyan’s downfall began with his last imperial project, the Aziziye Mosque.
The Akaretler/Aziziye Project In the mid-1870s the Aziziye Mosque was planned for the Macka district of Constantinople. Due to its patron Abdu¨laziz’s death, the succession of Abdu¨lhamid II and the financial problems of the Empire, it was never constructed. The project’s decadence was well known, as Benoit Brunswick wrote in 1875. ‘The Sultan . . . undertook the construction of a mosque near his monumental palace at Bes¸iktas¸, and to complete derision, gives this mosque eighty buildings, while the Sublime Porte enact his alleged secularization of vakıfs!’4 Indeed, European commentators frequently exclaimed at Abdu¨laziz’s profligacy in the 1870s. Emile De Girardin, in 1876, commented on ‘these sultans who spend millions madly in England and France to build palaces they demolish after being built’.5
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The Akaretler was planned as apartments, arranged as row houses, in the Bes¸iktas¸ district. It was to be built at the same time as the Aziziye Mosque and dealt with in the same project. In fact, it was built and still stands, recently refurbished as a luxury hotel. The Akaretler was among the first apartment buildings in Constantinople and was uniquely shaped to the hill topography of Bes¸iktas¸, which shows Serkis Balyan’s skill as an architect and engineer. As was noted in Chapter 6, Saveriyo Kalfa and Eugene Maillard, in the name of a group of craftsmen, submitted a petition concerning the Aziziye and the Akaretler to the Porte in 1878.6 It demanded payment for items supplied for the imperial palaces and stated that Serkis Balyan procured the works and was therefore held responsible for reimbursing the craftsmen and suppliers. This petition marked the beginning of Serkis’s fall from power. The financial problems of the state combined with the convoluted hierarchy of responsibility over imperial works in the case of the Aziziye and Akaretler projects and meant that the craftsmen were not paid. This led to the petition demanding payment for wages, materials used and furnishings supplied, which, in turn, led to the state seeking someone to whom to attach blame – and it chose Serkis. The practical reasons were combined with an apparent backlash against the Balyans’ power. This backlash started in 1878, which was shortly following Sultan Abdu¨lhamid II’s succession and when Serkis Bey was granted the title Ser Mimar-i Devlet. Around the time of the 1878 petition there was a private memo of the Yıldız Palace Grand Vizier Ibrahim Edhem Pas¸a’s office about the debts of the former sultan Abdu¨laziz. These debts were associated in the memo with Abdu¨laziz’s private building works carried out by Serkis Bey (sultana mahsus olup ebniye-i hassa ¸sahane kalfası atufetlu Serkis ‘hazretlerinin Aziziye Camii ve mu¨teferriat imalatın ebniye matlubu).7 These debts concerned the bureaucracy and it sought a solution.
The Chronology of the Downfall At the turn of the 1880s, Serkis’s status was still secure. In 1879 the Bab-i Ali sent Serkis Bey a polite note to enquire about his illness,8 and in 1880 an island in the inlet in Kuruces¸me that belonged to the vakıf of Abdu¨lmecid was left to Serkis.9 The property that Serkis built on his island, known as Serkisbey Adası, was proudly displayed on late-nineteenth-century Armenian postcards.10 However, since 1878, when he was appointed as the chief architect of the state, Serkis had not received a salary for his position and continued not to receive a salary for two years.11 An investigation about Serkis Balyan’s construction work found that there was no contract for the work and that differences existed between the commission’s estimates (concerning the cost of works) and the prices charged, and so for these reasons payment was not made to Serkis.12 Oya S¸enyurt draws attention to an investigation into the building of the C¸ırag˘an Palace, which found that Serkis Balyan engineered for a ‘sahte defter’ (sham accounts book) to be prepared and that 220,000 lira was embezzled.13 The main evidence
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submitted to the commission was a letter in which Serkis told his colleagues to produce a counterfeit accounts book. However, the open directive on Serkis’s part and the availability of the document for the commission make the origin of the document highly suspect. S¸enyurt states that Serkis’s finances were investigated, and it was decided that he had embezzled and that his property, including his Beyog˘lu home, be confiscated and sold.14 She adds that he was indebted to foreign individuals named Monsieurs Krivas, Hayman and Vivoda.15 However, Ahmed Pas¸a (hazine nazırı/minister of the treasury) prevented interference with Serkis’ property.16 S¸enyurt tells of commissions investigating Serkis Balyan’s activities. In 1886, petitions were submitted to the state by labourers who worked on construction projects and it was claimed that Serkis owed a total of 35,000 lira.17 A commission stated that these requests should be directed at Serkis Balyan himself and stopped this enquiry. Another investigation found Serkis Balyan guilty of ‘irregularities’, 25,000 lira was confiscated from him, but the full amount embezzled was not collectable.18 All of these investigations seem odd: Serkis Balyan is accused of some misdemeanour or debt by his labourers; the state investigates, finds him guilty and begins to collect money; but in most cases collection stops. A chronological viewing of the documents shows the situation more clearly. There is a collection of documents from 1883– 4 that show changes to Serkis’s situation. In S¸aban 1301/1884 ‘Sabik Sermimar Serkis Bey’ (former chief architect) was found guilty (cinayet mahkemesi kararıyla mahkum oldug˘u), and the seizure of his property ordered to recoup the entirety of the money that was owed. The General Body for Universal Claims (I˙stinaf Mu¨ddea-i Umumilig˘i) was to sell his property.19 In 1884, stones of 5,000 ceki in the I˙cadiye district belonging to Serkis Bey were sold.20 Another 1884 document records confiscation of property (emlak) and real estate (akar) to pay for the cost of his trial.21 A commission investigated aspects of the Aziziye and the Akaretler in Bes¸iktas¸, such as the delivery of materials and the salaries of the port officials.22 A spate of further enquiries into Serkis Bey’s professional activities followed: in 1886, because of ‘improprieties’ by Serkis Bey, materials were seized and debts were paid;23 in 1887, there was an investigation into alleged embezzlement by the ‘Former Chief Architect’.24 Serkis was based in Europe during these investigations. An 1888 document gives permission for him to return to the Dersaadet, following the request of Agop Kazanyan.25 Tug˘lacı states that Serkis moved to Paris following ‘a conspiracy to blacken his reputation’ because of his appointment as imperial architect, but states that he had returned in 1884.26 Cezar notes that Serkis left for Paris in late 1880 or 1881.27 After his return, investigations into his finances continued. In 1890, a commission led by the Chief of Tax Hasan Fehmi Pas¸a, looked into Serkis’s building works, revenues and expenses.28 Serkis Bey had further debts to the Treasury of the Finance Ministry in 1890.29 An 1891 investigation looked into the accounts of Serkis’s projects undertaken before he went to Europe.30 In the same year the Ebniye-i Seniyye Komisyonu
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noted that Serkis Bey had to pay 13,000 lira to the labourers (amele) for his works, and he should be allowed to pay them in instalments.31 Despite the investigations, Serkis continued to carry out works. In 1889 he won the contract to build two coastal palaces in Ortako¨y, Defterdarburnu.32 Then, in 1892, the Hazine-i Hassa Nezareti declared that Serkis Bey’s property should be returned to him.33 It is clear that for a time in the 1880s, the Ottoman state viewed Serkis Balyan with suspicion and accused him of professional vices such as embezzlement. The state’s investigations into Serkis’s conduct led to the state confiscating his property, fining him and holding him personally responsible for paying the labourers who had been employed on imperial works. Therefore, the state managed to gain money (and to save money) from these accusations against Serkis Balyan. Yet, it appears that Serkis was protected from financial ruin at this point by Agop Kazanyan and other influential figures, who prevented state interference with his wealth and property. In 1896 developing political problems in the Ottoman Empire had another effect on Serkis’s status.
The Political Situation and the Downfall The Tas¸nak and Huncaks, Armenian political parties formed in the 1880s and 1890s, aimed at results similar to those seen in the western provinces of the Empire.34 Although Turkish authors characterize these Armenian parties as terrorists unwilling to work with the Young Turks and defend the constitution,35 Armenian scholars, such as Libaridian, argue that they were parties with whom the Ottoman state ‘had the option to work’ although ‘they decided not to’.36 According to the Ottoman state’s perspective, these ‘Armenian committees’ were not only a threat to the security and territorial integrity of the Empire, but also were disseminating negative propaganda in Europe. They engaged in increasingly extreme activities to attract the attention of the foreign powers and incited Muslim reprisals to the same end.37 They advocated, following the failure to gain concessions at the Congress of Berlin, to use ‘iron spoons’, as the Patriarch Khirimiyan metaphorically referred to taking up arms.38 An increased acknowledgement of a separate Armenian self-image took hold, moving from hayrenasirutyun (or love of the motherland) to azgasirutyun (or love of the nation).39 The struggle for a separate Armenian identity militarized and Armenians started to take on the role of fedai (fighters ready to sacrifice their lives).40 The ideas and activities of Armenians in the capital, in particular the ‘Young Armenians’ educated in Europe, continued to have a liberal basis. Literary works depict the spoilt bourgeoisie of Constantinople who were antagonistic towards revolutionary activity.41 Those educated in the Caucasus and exposed to the revolutionary influences of the groups in Tiflis and Russia (the Huncaks and Tas¸naks) had more violent strategies and were committed to using acts of terrorism to change the conditions under which Anatolian Armenians lived.42 The Huncaks were, like the Armenian liberals who came before them, and like the Young Turks who gained control of the Empire through the 1908 revolution, formed
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through the French and Swiss educational setting. They were also, like the liberals and like many Young Turks, from upper-class bourgeois families. The Huncaks moved towards a more radical Marxist approach that advocated total social upheaval.43 These views of the Huncaks attracted provincial Armenians. Even the British consul noticed this transformation in 1890: The Armenians in the provinces are more in touch with their own people in this capital, with those in Tiflis, in Marseilles and Manchester, have schoolmasters amongst them who have been instructed under American teachers, and are, for all these reasons, much more impatient of oppression and Kurdish inroads than a former generation was.44 In an 1894 revolt, villagers in Sasun in Cilicia refused to pay taxes to Kurdish tribes. Although the revolt was quelled, it was a significant turning point. Following the spread of Huncak propaganda and provocation, the villagers again revolted. The Hamidiye regiment was sent to suppress the revolt.45 In September 1895, the leaders of the Huncak Party organized a similar event in the capital. The demonstration in Kumkapı ended in a massacre. According to British documents (with their pro-Armenian perspective), the Huncaks intended this event to be a peaceful demonstration to demand reforms in the Armenian-populated provinces, but it ended in the death of 60 Armenians and 15 policemen, and 500 people were arrested.46 In the Ottoman archives’ documentation, several memos from 1896 refer to Serkis Balyan and Mihran Damadyan (a Huncak leader) as ‘Armenian plotters/mischief makers’ (‘Ermeni fes¸edesinden’) and ‘Armenian revolutionaries’ (‘Ermeni ihtilacileri’).47 These memos are dated after the Kumkapı demonstration, which Damadyan organized, and indicate that Balyan may have been involved in these activities. According to the memos, Serkis Bey and Damadyan were in contact with leaders of the diaspora, such as the Armenian Committee in London and its chief Simyon Manukyan, and sent them packages of information (malumat). The Athenian office of the Ottoman foreign ministry noted that Serkis Balyan and Mihran Damadyan had been in correspondence not only with the London-based Armenian Committee and Manukyan, but also with Batumi, Constantinople and Romania. Serkis Balyan had a Bulgarian passport and was arrested in Constanta (Ko¨stence) in Romania in 1895 along with Damadyan (before they moved on to Athens).48 In 1896, while Damadyan travelled to Batumi, Serkis Balyan went to Alexandria in Egypt. Damadyan was tracked down in Batumi, preparing revolutionary activities. Later in 1896, Damadyan travelled to London, and no more is heard of Serkis Balyan’s involvements with Damadyan or the Huncaks.49 Mihran Damadyan was well known for his involvement in activism in 1892 in Sasun, but his status in the early 1890s (in relation to Armenian revolutionary activity) was somewhat ambiguous, according to The Contemporary Review:
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One Damadyan, in particular, an Armenian Catholic from Constantinople went, in 1892, about the villages of the Sasun district on a mission of agitation against the Government. He easily eluded the futile efforts which, for the sake of appearance, were made to arrest him. After nearly a year of this game of hide and seek, Damadyan was arrested and sent to Constantinople, where, of course, he was immediately pardoned – a fact which speaks for itself.50 Damadyan, after his involvement in the Huncak-organized events in the 1890s, became a leading figure in that organization. However, Serkis Balyan’s role in relation to the Huncaks remains unclear. There is a strong possibility that he was radicalized following the state’s investigations into his conduct in the 1880s. However, there is no evidence of any connection with Armenian separatists or political engagement before or after this brief point in the mid-1890s. Armenian historian Raymond Ke´vorkian sheds light on the utopian self-image of the ‘revolutionaries’, which may explain why Serkis Balyan associated himself with this group. ‘For their part, the committees deemed themselves part of the enlightened element of Ottoman society, a kind of avant-garde imbued with socialist values that was endeavouring to free the masses from the reigning obscurantism and build a federal state.’51 Serkis Balyan, having studied in Paris, certainly saw himself at the vanguard of new thought, and most likely came into contact with many of the figures who became leading members of organizations such as the Huncaks. It is known that he had studied alongside satirist Hagop Baronian, for instance. Whether or not he was sufficiently radicalized by his mistreatment by the Ottoman state to join what was an increasingly extremist, militarized struggle remains unclear. There is even the possibility that these Huncak connections were fabricated. The Porte accused Ayvazovski of affiliations with Armenian separatist groups. Since it was a common practice of the Porte to falsify people’s connections with Armenian separatist groups, so that the individuals concerned could be exiled or dealt with in another way, Serkis’s alleged Huncak affiliations can be viewed with scepticism. That there is nothing – either before or after the set of memos mentioned above – that links Serkis Balyan with any dissident ideas or groups suggests that the allegations may have been a ploy on the part of the state to secure his downfall. Indeed, Serkis was a signatory to an 1895 memorandum, issued by the Porte to Armenians of the provinces52 that stated that they should not be encouraged by incorrect European ideas about the status of Armenians within the Ottoman Empire. Instead, the memo claimed that Armenians were able to live very well, with the support of the Ottoman government, in Constantinople. The content of a petition, printed on 2 December 1890 in the Levant Herald, is similar to the memorandum. The petition repeatedly refers to Armenians as ‘the faithful subjects of Your Majesty’, who are granted ‘the protection and the confidence of the government’ and ‘the paternal guidance of the Ottoman Empire’. Signed by Agop (Ministry of Finances), Abraham (Senator), Artin Dadyan (Under-Secretary of the Ministry of
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Foreign Affairs), Vahan (Under-Secretary of the Ministry of Justice), Servitchen (Senator), Abro (Member of the Council of State), and Serkis (First Architect of the Empire), it states: Quelques individus servant une ide´e contraire au salut et aux inte´reˆts de la fide`le communaute´ arme´nienne, osent, par ci pas la`, faire des publications et se permettre des proce´de´s ille´gaux, afin de briser les liens de fide´lite´ qui rattachent ‘ab antiquo’ les Arme´niens a` l’Empire Ottoman d’e´ternelle dure´e et s’efforcent ainsi de tromper les simples. Les individus forment une infime minorite´ de la communaute´ arme´nienne et n’ont aucune qualite´ ni aucun droit de proce´der au nom de la communaute´.53 This petition and memorandum, if taken at face value, in combination with the evidence seen throughout this book about the Balyans’ commitment to their Ottoman identity (especially that of Serkis and his proposal for an Ottoman School of Arts and Industry and his Ottoman Company of Public Works), suggest that the mischiefmaker accusations may have been unfounded. After the Downfall: Serkis Bey’s Property There is no documentation after 1896 about Serkis’ activities, and it is only known that he died in November 1899, aged 68.54 There are many subsequent bureaucratic transactions involving his property, especially the inlet in Kuruces¸me that was left to Serkis Bey in 1880.55 There are several documents from the very early 1900s. One concerns the house that was connected to the vakıf of Sultan Abdu¨lmecid and was given to Serkis as senevi mukataalı (yearly tax revenue paid to Evkaf). It states that, in order that the house not remain as escheated property (mahluk kalması), and due to tax debts, the keys were given to the Naval Ministry.56 Documents from 1900 and 1901 show that there was correspondence circulated between the Bahriye, Evkaf and Maliye ministries about the vacant house. These documents mention a plan for building a police station in the lower level and a clock tower in the upper level, as well as placing a barometer upon an already existing clock tower.57 Another document from 1901 voices opposition to the interference with Serkis Bey’s property at Kuruces¸me.58 Following this, in 1901, the reasons why the property should be turned into a police station are verified.59 Then in 1902 it was decided that it would be converted to a police station and clock tower.60 Sums of money were taken from the mukataa funds (which was a rent paid to the Evkaf in return for cultivated land that was built upon) from the deceased’s will, and Serkis Bey’s empty house was turned into a police station and clock tower.61 Until World War I the island in Kuruces¸me was known as Serkis Bey’s Island (Serkis Bey Adası). On 19 July 1944, a deed of inheritance was issued to Serkis’s heirs concerning ownership of the island.62 The changes in the tenure and function of this island show the mutating social and political conditions of the end decades of the nineteenth century into the middle of the twentieth century. As this book has shown,
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Serkis Balyan and the other members of his family were heavily implicated in these changes to the status of Armenians and in the state’s approach towards this group. The parallel case of Mıgırdic Cezayirliyan sheds further light on the role of Serkis Bey’s downfall as part of larger developments affecting Armenians at the end of the nineteenth century. Mıgırdic was a contemporary of Karapet Balyan who was a successful banker and chief customs officer in the 1850s. Mıgırdic was entrepreneurial. He founded silk-making factories in Bursa, Bilecik and Mudanya,63 and established the Ottoman steamboat company S¸irket-i Hayriye.64 Cezayirliyan was a friend and business partner of Grand Vizier Mustafa Res¸id Pas¸a. Destrilles states that Res¸id Pas¸a had promised to abolish monopolies during the Tanzimat. However, the status of Cezayirliyan, which Res¸id Pas¸a supported, was in contravention of this and continued to represent a monopoly-like arrangement. For favouring the projects of the farmer-general Cezayirli... Res¸id rose against their being governed by the state. Under the pretext that official collectors could commit infidelity or abuse, he reinstated with vigour the iltizams (or sale by tender of tithes) whose regime had been abolished.65 At the peak of his powers, Mıgırdic was accused of embezzlement and his property (including his seaside mansion in Yeniko¨y) was confiscated by the Ottoman state.66 In the 1880s and 1890s, when Serkis Balyan fell from power, the economic, social and political situation of the Empire was very different. The Ottoman state was not only in dire financial straits, having defaulted on its loans, but was encountering problems with Armenian political groups such as the Huncaks. Because of these very different political and economic climates, it is all the more striking that both Serkis Balyan and Mıgırdic Cezayirliyan were allowed to become exponentially powerful and wealthy and were similarly treated by the state. Attention should also be drawn to the more immediate reason behind Serkis Bey’s fall: the difficulty of keeping track of finances in the building trade at the time. A similar case is that of the Palace of Westminster, for which the estimates in 1835 were ‘wildly speculative’, and did not include the costs of decoration or furnishing. These estimates were later claimed to have been ‘moonshine’ created by Barry. The cost of £497,400 for the decoration was regarded as ‘exorbitant’.67 Pugin, the assistant architect, was paid very little and had trouble obtaining his expenses: It was difficult to know how much he was owed for work at Westminster. The tangled question of who was subcontracting whom, when he was employed directly by Barry and when by Crace or Hardman, was further complicated by the various loops and tucks Barry had made in the arrangements in order to appease both Parliament and Pugin... Some of it was piecework, some on commission.68 The example of the Palace of Westminster and Pugin also draws attention to two more issues: the capacity for individual error and the insistence of some architects on
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personally controlling all aspects of operations. Pugin at an early age was ‘unable to cost his work or manage the business side’69 and although at a later stage in his life he had many people working for him, he made drawings himself and spent unnecessary time on site visits. Pugin made notes concerning professional costs and purchases in his personal diary. Given this chaotic nature of architectural operations in the nineteenth century, even for works like the Palace of Westminster, it is not surprising that there were frequent financial problems, errors and accusations. Nevertheless, a disproportionate number of such claims in the Ottoman context were against non-Muslim kalfas. Furthermore, it is suspicious that there was a similar approach to Mıgırdic’s possessions many decades earlier in the 1850s and indeed towards other Armenians many decades later, surrounding the events of 1915.70 This chapter proposes that claims of embezzlement by Serkis Balyan could have been fabricated because the Ottoman state was under immense pressure to obtain capital to pay its debts after the key date of 1878. The chapter also underlines the fact that Serkis, along with Mihran Damadyan of the Huncaks, was accused of being a ‘mischief-maker’ and that these political accusations may have also had a role in his downfall. Through drawing attention to the seizure of his property following his death, the state’s interest in Serkis Balyan’s finances has been made clear. The parallel example of Armenian banker Mıgırdic Cezayirliyan, who may have been targeted by the state because he was too wealthy and too powerful, indicates that Serkis Balyan’s downfall may have been connected not only to his degree of wealth and power but also to his Armenian identity. Serkis was, above all, the victim of the decentralization and resultant confusion of the nineteenth-century building sector. The bureaucracy lightly supervised building operations and the majority of transactions went unrecorded. This lack of supervision meant that he was viewed as a figure of suspicion when the state came under pressure to gather funds in 1878. The high degree of autonomy that Serkis Balyan held over a large number of imperial works meant that he was handling large sums of money. He was viewed as a potential source of revenue when the state defaulted on its loans. Both as the result of the poor regulation of building works and the special status that the Balyan family possessed in relation to imperial building programmes, Serkis Balyan became an easy target.
CHAPTER 8 CONCLUSION
The Revisions Continue This book starts to distance the study of the Balyan family from former works more overtly coloured by bias and the restricted nature of their source materials, but it is only a beginning. It endeavours to show, in more detail than in past studies, the pivotal role that members of the Balyan family held over Ottoman imperial building works during the Tanzimat period. However, as the documentation of the Ottoman Archives continues to be opened up to researchers and increasingly efficiently catalogued, the study of the Balyan family will grow. Documentation within the Topkapı Archives available at the time of research related only to the pre-nineteenth-century period and to nineteenth-century projects of non-imperial and provincial natures. This contributed to the conclusion of Chapter 2 that the major projects of the Tanzimat were not linked to the palace office. When further sources come to light due to the reopening of the archives, this perspective may change. The collections of the Hazine-i Hassa and the Evkaf Nezareti kept in the Prime Ministry Archives referred to building of the mosques and palaces of the Tanzimat, and their content suggested the same conclusion that, after the palace office was disbanded in 1830, the building operations moved towards the Hazine-i Hassa and the Evkaf Nezareti, which took on a purely overseeing role over building projects. Later, in the late 1860s to early 1870s, at the time the Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque was built, some elements of the organization of building works were again tied to the palace. This may have been linked to the revival of the Prefecture. In 1995, Ahmet Ersoy found documentation in the Dolmabahc e archive collections that identified the architect of the Yıldız Hamidiye Mosque of 1885 as Nikolaki Kalfa.1 These collections are now located in the Prime Ministry Archive where they form part of the Hazine-i Hassa collection. Although Cengiz Go¨ncu¨ looked at the documentation covering the building of the Beylerbeyi Palace, and this book included some sources related to the Balyan family’s operations, it is likely that there are further sections within the Hazine-i Hassa collection yet to be explored.
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The segment of the Prime Ministry Archives that contains construction-related plans and drawings was being recatalogued during the period of my research. Some of the plans and drawings were previously published by Du¨ndar.2 These, like those plans and drawings from the nineteenth century in the Topkapı, are related to non-imperial works, or small projects in the provinces. Rarely was there any evidence on authorship. For instance, although there is a plan for the Aziziye Mosque in Konya, it is but a few lines designating a simple domed cube with no elaborations on structure or ornament, and the sketch is not signed. As noted throughout this book, it is likely that private collections of plans, drawings and account books survive and will come to light over time. Tug˘lacı published samples from Serkis Balyan’s private sketchbook, an example of a building account for the Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque from a private collection and drawings for the C¸ırag˘an Palace from the Yerevan State Museum’s collections, the Paris Nubarian and the collection of the architect Le´on Gu¨reg˘yan in Asolo near Venice.3 Pascal Carmont published a drawing by Agop Balyan, but with no indication as to where it was found. It is likely that individuals and institutions will, in the future, make public further documentation.4 Oral history is growing in Turkey, particularly in the form of publications relating to the narratives of minority communities. As Leyla Neyzi and others have written, these accounts form a counterpoint to the national history that has dominated in the past.5 In the course of this book’s research, I did not venture very far into private collections or oral information. I was told a few pieces of information about the later fate of the Balyan family. One branch moved from Izmir/Smyrna to Greece in 1922 as refugees. They were engaged in commerce in Smyrna, but moved there from the Kayseri region (Talas being the most likely location). This family had wealthy relatives in Constantinople. Other relatives have been identified in Jerusalem and in some neighbourhoods of present-day Istanbul. The most notable relative, Garo Balyan (1878– 1960), moved to Cairo and became a successful architect.6 One account that I was told in passing, by a Polish Armenian acquaintance, about bizim Balyanlarımız (our Balyans) is particularly interesting. It may also serve to encourage the potential corroborative use of oral history in relation to the Balyan family. As was told to me, when Karapet Balyan was building the Dolmabahc e Palace, he asked the sultan for permission to build a clock tower but the sultan gave his approval only on the condition that he would build a mosque next door. This story confirms the suggestion by Goodwin that the erection of clock towers was controversial because of their disconnection of time from religion (prayer times had been calculated in the muvakkithane/ time-keeper’s room of the mosque).7 Indeed, in the Dolmabahc e Mosque there is also a muvakkithane. The impression of the duality of the culture of Abdu¨lmecid – his patronage of ‘old’ and ‘new’ – that is presented throughout this book, is encapsulated by the story just recounted and is part of the broader oral tradition. It is hoped that this example encourages scholars of the future to investigate this rich oral tradition.
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There can also be optimism about the state of the Armenian source materials and the expanding possibilities for research. Histories and memoirs from the Armenian– Ottoman community have been published in growing numbers in recent years. Seminal publications by Armenian scholars such as Kevork Pamukciyan have been reissued. These publishing activities have largely been carried out by the Armenianowned Aras publishing house but Turkish-owned publishers have also released a number of Armenian-related literary and academic works. As Amy Mills has argued, the cosmopolitan past of Constantinople is currently being rediscovered and its memory reinstated in varied ways.8 Within this changed social and political climate, those interested in the Armenian past can be hopeful that further Armenian histories, periodicals and personal collections of documentation will come to light and that Armenians will be less reticent to talk about the past. However, as Mills points out, this consumerist remembering of ‘Old Istanbul’ so far has remained detached from the prospect of acknowledging what actually happened to the minorities of the city.9 It is important that this renewed attention to the Armenian past of Constantinople remains critical. Nostalgic vistas or rose-tinted views of the ‘tolerance’10 or even an anachronistic reading of the ‘multiculturalism’ of the Ottoman Empire should not be created without at the same time considering the political contexts that transformed that past into the present-day Turkish Republic. Edhem Eldem makes a similar point about how to view cosmopolitanism and stresses that this was still a climate in which Muslims and non-Muslims were referred to by different terminology when they died.11 It is a step forward to acknowledge the contribution of the minorities to Ottoman and Turkish history and culture – and this acknowledgement is an important part of the requirements Turkey must meet for its accession to the European Union. In 2010, to tie in with Istanbul’s European Capital of Culture events, exhibitions and catalogues were produced on the Armenian and Greek architects and their contribution to ‘westernizing Istanbul’.12 But there is the danger that minorities and their cultural productions could be used, whether for political or commercial purposes, without those communities actually receiving any gain (political, financial or social) from the situation. Within the globalized world, it is easy to exploit a cosy vision of the cultural lives of local actors and minorities for commercial ends and to ignore the social context and the power relations within that context.13 It is also important not to fall into the trap of focusing on one family – a sort of ‘Balyan-o-philia’ – whether as a photogenic totem of Ottoman cosmopolitanism or as Armenian genius figure. Countless other notable Armenian, as well as non-Armenian, architects deserve attention. Even the Ag˘os newspaper commented, in the context of the 2010 exhibition on Armenian architects: ‘Aaa Balyanlardan bas¸ka Ermeni mimarlar da varmıs¸’ (It seems that aside from the Balyans there are other Armenian architects).14 Although it may prove more difficult to find documentation about lesser-known Armenian architects who came before and after the Balyan family, theirs is also an important contribution to the cultural history of the Ottoman Empire and Republican Turkey that should not be ignored.
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Attention should be turned to other, equivalent architects in the various Ottoman provinces. Investigating the role of Armenian architects in these regions would shed new light both on local and on wider networks of social and cultural relations. These cases would also inform on the bigger issues at stake at the end of the nineteenth and beginning of the twentieth centuries such as the relationship between the Ottoman imperial centre and its provinces, as well as the build up to the events of the 1890s and 1915. For example, the so-called Mimarbas¸ı, Serkis Elyas Lole, was active in Mardin, Diyarbakır, and neighbouring regions from the 1890s. Lole, like the Balyans, built a phenomenal number of works, including schools, barracks, churches and private mansions. It can be said that Lole largely defined the material image of the city of Mardin as we see it today. However, beyond his art-historical importance, the example of Lole can inform much about the transformation in local social and administrative structures from the 1890s that contributed towards the events of 1915, which Lole managed to escape. Given the example of Serkis Balyan’s international networks, attention should be paid to the increasingly sophisticated and mobile networks of other Armenian architects at the end of the nineteenth century. For instance, Lole took inspiration from Renaissance Florence and is known to have worked in Beirut, where his relatives later resettled. Another interesting example is Le´on Nafilian, who had a European education and carried out numerous commissions in late-Ottoman Constantinople and Republican Istanbul (I˙¸s Bankası in Karako¨y is one of his works), as well as in Cairo, Yerevan and France. Nafilian and Lole, in particular, reinforce what this book shows about the Balyan family in relation to the complexity of their architecture and its educational and theoretical background. Nafilian is well documented, thanks to his plans and drawings that are held in the Parisian archive of the Cite´ de l’architecture et du patrimoine, and his personal library was preserved intact and sold only recently. These sources enable us to penetrate the significance of his works in considerable detail. Lole is a more enigmatic figure than Nafilian but his image and works are increasingly being promoted as a symbol of the tolerance and cosmopolitanism of Mardin. A plaque outside a mansion in the old city states ‘Mimarbas¸ı Lole Evi’. Lole’s best-known works are identified by plaques with the logos of the EU and GAP (Gu¨neydog˘u Anadolu Projesi/Southeastern Anatolia Project, an agency for the development of southeastern Turkey). A street was recently renamed Mimarbas¸ı Serkis Elyas Lole Ku¨ltu¨r ve Sanat Sokag˘ı, by the Mardin municipality. His works are being restored and taken over by the newly founded Mardin Artuklu University. Nafilian and Lole, both fascinating examples of Armenian architects at the end of the nineteenth century, were ignored in past scholarship because of the unfortunate tendency for ‘area studies’ that has led to specialists viewing their subjects in a restricted way. Ottomanist art historians have tended to concentrate on the imperial architecture of the centre. With their focus on Ottoman archival documentation they have viewed stylistic change from a state-centric perspective, with an exception being Hamadeh’s work that fore grounded social change in the eighteenth century.
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The majority of works within Armenian Studies from US and European institutions focus on political issues, genocide and post-genocide studies. Another sizeable group concerns anthropological works on the Armenian communities of the diaspora, as well as works on linguistic studies, literature, and theology. History of art works focus on medieval Armenian art and architecture, as well as enigmatic figures such as Arshile Gorky. With very few exceptions (which tend to look at literary production and politics), the existence of the Armenian – Ottomans has been ignored.15 Serkis Lole and Le´on Nafilian, as well as countless other lesser-known Armenian– Ottoman architects, show how the Balyans were not alone in their recourse to revivalism. It is safe to say that Nafilian, Lole and the Balyans were united in refashioning revivalism to their setting, whether late-nineteenth-century Ottoman Constantinople or the early-twentieth-century Armenian community of France. Thus, the I˙s¸ Bankası takes the inspiration of Ottoman tiles and other neo-Islamic decorative styles, and the Maison Arme´nienne of the Cite´ Universitaire built in the 1920s looks back to Etchmiadzin’s Armenian medieval style.16 These Armenian – Ottoman architects, including the Balyan family, help in the revision of the strict chronology of the rise of ‘national styles’ over the late-nineteenth and early-twentieth centuries. In particular, within the Turkish context, they help researchers to dissociate the rise of this national style from the belief that it was achieved solely through the efforts of Turkish actors. As an example of this widely held notion, and especially the reverence for Mimar Kemaleddin and Vedat Tek, I˙nci Aslanog˘lu states (on Kemaleddin Bey): ‘through him Ottoman mosque architecture continued to live on in correct and loyal designs’. This image of Kemaleddin Bey as genius figure and prime architect of Turkish nationalism architect of Turkish nationalism is supported by Kemaleddin’s writings, in which he expresses ideas similar to Ziya Go¨kalp.17 Ahmet Ersoy implied that Ottoman– Greek architects were also engaged in the proliferation of the revivalist style.18 Ersoy identifies the ‘hidden’ Greek architect, Nikolaki Kalfa, of the Hamidiye Mosque, which was previously connected to Serkis Balyan. But, Ersoy does not cite any evidence that Nikolaki Kalfa intended to create revivalist works; instead, he makes general statements about the development of architecture during the latter half of the nineteenth century. Nonetheless, it is likely that, when thorough research into Greek architects is carried out, it will be shown that Ottoman– Greek architects too participated in this stylistic revolution. The works of Balyan, Lole and Nafilian clearly show how style was heavily influenced by European revivalism and, usually, some Parisian education. However, as study of these architects makes clear, this education could be, and was, used by different architects in different creative ways. Nevertheless, and contrary to what the historiography implies, looked at together, these architects and their works underline the fact that there was not a clear-cut trajectory from an eclectic and ‘Orientalist’ style used by Ottoman– Greek and Armenian ‘non-Muslim’ kalfas to the First National Style used by Turkish architects such as Vedat Tek and Mimar Kemaleddin. This point
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was noted in a review of the Hrant Dink Foundation exhibition on Armenian architects in the Taraf newspaper in 2010.19 It is, nonetheless, important to stress – as this book has endeavoured to do – that the Balyan family were unique in many ways. They were particularly exceptional because of the degree of their power over imperial works. They managed to acquire a significant position that was, to all intents and purposes, hereditary for the best part of a century. A number of contextual factors, including the decline and unsuccessful reform of the state bodies for architecture and the expansion of the Armenian community, led to the dominance of the Balyan family. In addition, they were also, although not reflective of the ‘favoured society’ paradigm, the recipients of sultanic privilege and patronage that was essential to their continued status as imperial architects. When the Balyans assumed control of Ottoman building works, they developed a highly efficient system that produced architecture that was attractive to their patron, which in turn meant that they retained their position of control over imperial projects for an extraordinarily long time. No other Ottoman–Greek, Armenian, Levantine or foreign architect managed to hold such a long monopoly over imperial works at any point. It was because of this dominance over imperial works that the Balyans were able to take a unique role in determining the style of the buildings they were relied upon to construct. Each generation of the family formulated a specific style for each sultan of the Tanzimat. The Balyan family’s role in sultanic image-making began with the creation of Mahmud II’s style, which is seen in the works of the 1820s to 1830s and includes a select neoclassical decorative vocabulary alongside inscription bands, the tug˘ra, wreaths, sunrays and militaristic clusters. In the 1840s to 1850s, Abdu¨lmecid’s style encompasses iconographical references from neoclassical, baroque, and Venetian Renaissance influences, alongside neo-Islamic and Ottoman elements. Abdu¨laziz’s style shows an altered vision of Ottoman civilization as being related to Gothic and Islamic historical styles. The decorative overlays of each sultan’s style were combined with references to the sultan’s power, as well as adhering to the traditional building types of the sofa plan for palaces and the domed cube for mosques. Although created for the relevant sultan in order to reflect his sovereign power in a manner that was appropriate to his reign and vision of the Empire, each style was founded upon the specific architect’s educational experience in Paris and the influences he came under whilst there. Labrouste’s and Hugo’s ideas influenced Nigog˘os during his time at the Sainte-Barbe; Viollet-le-Duc’s ideas influenced Serkis at the Beaux-Arts, as did his experiences there. The generations educated in revolutionary Paris continued to show a strong commitment to their locality and their identity as Armenian – Ottomans. Their aim was to use the intellectual skills that they had gained in Paris to revitalize Ottoman and Armenian realities. This is seen in the industrial works of Serkis which show his experience at the Centrale under Mary, and Serkis’s Ottomanist aim to keep the activities of foreign companies within the Empire at bay. Through their use of ornament, the common creative endeavour of the Pariseducated generations led to a renaissance in Ottoman architecture. The works of
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Nigog˘os, Serkis and Agop show a sustained use of the same (sofa and domed cube) plans and different decorative inspirations to revive Ottoman identity. Through its investigation of the networks behind the imperial building works of Karapet and Nigog˘os, and those of Serkis and Agop, networks that are documented in the building registers, this book shows that members of the Balyan family were not just ideologically but practically committed to encouraging the expression of local Ottoman identity and the expansion of production methods. The majority of the labourers, craftsmen and artists involved in their works were local Ottoman subjects. The Balyans were also particularly devoted to stimulating Armenian social and cultural development. This commitment is reflected in Karapet’s activities as an amira, particularly his patronage of a new generation of artists such as Umed Behzad. It can be seen too in the next generation who continued to carry out benevolent works and support artists but also took a role in the community’s political development through writing the Armenian constitution. This engagement in aiding Armenian social and cultural advancement was not intended to lead to a separate identity. The Balyans asserted their belonging to the Ottoman Empire in many ways, most notably through their architecture. It was only after Serkis was subjected to investigations, confiscations and exile that he may have been radicalized and joined Mihran Damadyan and the Hunc aks. But even the association with Mihran Damadyan made by the Ottoman documentation could well have been a falsification by the Ottoman state intended to place Serkis Balyan in trouble. Most of the evidence suggests that the Balyans continued to perceive themselves as loyal Ottomans. Karapet Balyan decorated Surp Asdvadzadzin Church in the same style as the Mausoleum of Mahmud II and Serkis Balyan wrote a curriculum for the Ottoman School for Arts and Industry that predated the Ottoman Fine Arts School of Turkish genius figure Osman Hamdi Bey. The Balyan family show that the culture of the Ottoman nineteenth century should no longer be viewed as characterized by paradigmatic developments such as Westernization or the rise of nationalism. Additionally, diminutive adjectives that imply that their works were not creative productions endowed with meaning or consequence for the wider world should be eschewed. Armenian– Ottomans working in the nineteenth-century Ottoman Empire viewed themselves as equal participants in European cultural movements such as Romantic Revivalism. They did not simply follow European leads but adapted them to their locality in a unique and imaginative manner. Therefore, they were both active participants in European culture and genuine actors of consequence for the future development of Ottoman and Turkish Republican architecture. It was their revivalist architecture that set the stage for later developments on Turkish shores, which were increasingly appropriated for nationalist ends. As noted in this book, the importance of the Balyan family and their works has been ignored both by European and North American art historiography and also by much Turkish discourse about the advent of modern architectural styles in their respective locations. This book presents the Balyans not as propagators of a sort of ‘other’
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revivalism, but argues that they fully participated in European Romantic Revivalism and, moreover, subverted this to their own ends. They – Nigog˘os and Serkis Balyan – did this by using the ideas of European Revivalist architects such as Henri Labrouste and Euge`ne Viollet-le-Duc, but they embarked upon transforming those ideas to convey locally relevant messages about revitalized Ottoman identity. They combined the use of traditional Ottoman plans, iconography and the careful choice of historical styles to communicate meaning. It is unfortunate that, like the many ‘other’ figures of Paris in the nineteenth century, the Balyans were not viewed as worthy contributors to the vibrant artistic milieu of that time, and their voices silenced. Deborah Cherry has drawn attention to Jeanne Duval, Haitian-born actress, muse and mistress of Baudelaire, whose existence was sidelined from mainstream art history. Cherry states that these other figures, like Duval, have become akin to ‘the revenant’ or the ‘Other’ who returns to haunt the present and disturb relations between past and future.20 Derrida urges us to ‘live with’ these ghosts in the name of justice.21 The Balyan family serve as but a minuscule number of these numerous ghosts. After all, Paris presented a surprisingly mixed socio cultural environment in the late-nineteenth century, given the evidence of the intake of the E´cole Centrale alone. Emerging studies into other artists and architects educated in Paris will help to give a more accurate portrayal of the dynamics of this milieu in the future. The Balyan family’s exclusion from the history of Western architecture is especially unfair given the encouragement bestowed upon Armenians by Romantics such as Gautier, Lamartine, Hugo, and Nerval. Pushkin noticed that Byron’s works inscribed foreign landscapes as Byronic.22 Byron Europeanized the Armenians through his study of the Armenian language and his writings about them (in particular his complaint that they lived under Ottoman tyranny), but Armenians and their works have not been viewed in the same way as the Europeans and their world. The silencing of the cultural contribution of the Armenian Romantics mirrored the political situation, which saw the Great Powers increasingly focusing on preventing the expansion of Russia at all costs.23 In the 1820s, Chateaubriand, Hugo, Delacroix, Byron and others showed their enthusiasm for the cause of Greek independence. But by the middle of the century, the elites tended to turn inward.24 Lamartine, in his book Voyage En Orient, admired the Armenians as ‘the Swiss of the Orient’ and as ‘a superb race of men’.25 He tried to embark on his travels as poetic and religious renewal but ‘he simply could not lay politics aside’.26 In this book, Lamartine deliberately countered Chateaubriand’s negative views on the Turks and on Islam, conveying the wonders of ‘the Levant’s ethnic, cultural and religious variety’, its coexistence, blending of different traditions, and ‘harmony in diversity’.27 However in his later accounts, Lamartine’s support for the Ottoman Empire (although it was temporary because he believed that France would colonize the Empire28) ignores the realities of the Armenians and emphasizes the Tanzimat’s reforms and granting equality to non-Muslims. In his History of Turkey, published in 1855, Lamartine stresses the sovereign power of Turkey and its right to defend itself against the ‘usurpation of another race’. Lamartine describes the support of his younger
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self, Chateaubriand and Byron for the Greeks as ‘[p]oetic enthusiasm, in spite of statesmen’. He adds that their support for Greece was ‘unjust’ towards the Ottoman Empire, which ‘covers the East and West against Muscovite invasion’, and he threatens that ‘[t]he Ottoman Empire must retain her place or France must abandon hers’.29 Despite this desertion of the Armenians by the Romantics in favour of realpolitik, we should not be overly fatalistic: even at the height of anti-Armenian feeling, there were some who did not join in with the general movement and stopped to admire the contribution of Armenian artists and architects. Writing as late as 1914 in the publication Touran leader of the nationalist organization Tu¨rk Ocakları, Subhi Bey, says: The Armenians have put their signature on beautiful mosques, on unique tiles, on the finest ebony minbers... In our time as well, not only upon the palaces adorning the Bosphorus, on our mausoleums, among the ornaments of our tombstones, on the turbans we wear, on the enamels of the watches that we carry everywhere, in all things, we see the seal of their artistic talent. 30 Despite its unlikely provenance, and its potentially negative motivations, it is significant that the Armenian scholar Tchobanian frames this quotation as showing positive Turko– Armenian relations, even in the difficult times of the 1940s. This episode underlines that there was unexpected proximity and unlikely alliances, even in history’s darkest moments. It gives hope that the desire to rediscover the realities of these past relationships will become more widespread in the future.
NOTES
Chapter 1
Introduction
1. I thank Talinn Grigor for alerting me to the importance of the concept of the archive for my work at the ‘Revival, Utopia, Memory’ conference, Courtauld Institute, 23 –24 November 2012. 2. Assmann, Aleida, ‘Canon and Archive’, in Astrid Erll and Ansgar Nu¨nning (eds), A Companion to Cultural Memory Studies (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter GmbH & Co, 2008), p. 98. Canon can refer to the accepted works of an author, or the official version of events as approved by a certain authority. Assmann uses it in the sense of ‘actively circulated memory’. 3. Nitzsche, Jane, Chance, The Genius Figure in Antiquity and the Middle Ages (New York and London: Columbia University Press, 1975), pp. 4 – 6. 4. Vasari, Giorgio, Vasari’s Lives of the Artists: Biographies of the Most Eminent Architects, Painters and Sculptors of Italy, edited by Betty Burroughs (London: Allen & Unwin, 1960), pp. 258, 274 and 292. 5. Higgins, David, ‘Art, Genius and Racial Theory in the Early Nineteenth Century: Benjamin Robert Haydon’, History Workshop Journal, issue 58 (Autumn 2004), pp. 21 – 7. 6. Said, Edward, Orientalism (London: Penguin Books Ltd., 1978/ 2003). 7. Tanyeli, Ug˘ur, ‘Bir Kitap I˙cin Bir Konum Saptama Denemesi ya da Mitos Kurmaktan Mitos C¸o¨zu¨mlemeye Sinan Historiyografisi’, in Jale Erzen (ed.), Mimar Sinan: Estetik Bir Analiz (Istanbul: S¸evki Vanlı Mimarlık Vakfı Yayınları, 1996), pp. 1– 3; Morkoc, Selen, A Study of Ottoman Narratives on Architecture. Text, Context and Hermeneutics (Bethesda, Dublin, Palo Alto CA: Academica Press, 2010), pp. 100– 23. 8. Morkoc: A Study of Ottoman Narratives, p. 101. 9. It should be remembered that there is also a claim that Mimar Sinan was Armenian. Archag Tchobanian writing in 1945 emphasizes that Sinan was an Armenian and makes no mention of the Balyan family by name, although mentioning that many palaces and mosques were built by Armenians. Tchobanian, Archag, La Nation Arme´nienne et son œuvre culturelle (Paris: Imprimerie Artistique, 1945), p. 14. ¨ zdog˘an, Gu¨nay et al. (eds), Tu¨rkiye’de 10. A discussion of Armenian identity in Turkey is given in O Ermeniler Cemaat-Birey-Yurttas¸ (Istanbul: Bilgi University Yayınları, 2009). 11. The Workshop for Armenian-Turkish Studies in Chicago and Michigan (WATS); conferences such as at Bog˘azici/Bilgi/Sabancı in 2005; TESEV (Turkish Economic and Social Studies Foundation) a non-governmental think-tank founded in 1994; ‘football diplomacy’. Suny, Ronald Grigor and Go¨cek, Fatma Mu¨ge, ‘Introduction’, in Ronald Grigor Suny, Fatma Mu¨ge Go¨cek and Norman M. Naimark (eds), A Question of Genocide. Armenians And Turks at the End of the Ottoman Empire (Oxford: OUP, 2011), pp. 3 – 11. 12. There is a danger of falling into the category that Kafadar delineates: ‘It has turned into a postmodern sport to take shots – often cheap shots – at nationalisms and national histories... [it]
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13.
14.
15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31.
NOTES TO PAGES 3 –5 simply wishes to deem certain parts of the world and certain peoples so utterly steeped in ancient hatreds and incomprehensible disputes that they must be taught better.’ Kafadar, Cemal, ‘A Rome of One’s Own: Reflections on Cultural Geography and Identity in the Lands of Rum’, Muqarnas, vol. 24 (2007), p. 20. Gu¨lru Necipog˘lu states: ‘The search for the controversial ethnic origin of Sinan (whether Greek, Armenian or Turkish) was largely a misguided exercise, given the racial pluralism of the Ottoman state. The still-unresolved controversy is based on the assumption of an ‘ethnic purity’ difficult to imagine in the intermixed Greek, Armenian and Christian Turkish populations.’ Necipog˘lu, Gu¨lru, ‘Creation of a National Genius: Sinan and the Historiography of “Classical Ottoman Architecture”’, Muqarnas, vol. 24 (2007), p. 166. Armenians could be described as ‘force-fed into appropriating the master’s culture’, but, as elites with strong ties to the palace, the Armenians who are the focus of this work willingly participated in aspects of Ottoman social and cultural life. Spivak, Gayatri Chakravorty, ‘Can the Subaltern Speak?’ in Bill Ashcroft, Gareth Griffiths and Helen Tiffin (eds), Postcolonial Studies Reader (Routledge: Oxford and New York, 1995/2006), p. 36; Apter, Emily, ‘French Colonial Studies and Postcolonial Theory’, Sub-Stance 76/7, 24, 1 –2, (1995), p. 178. Recent studies have drawn attention to how the Ottoman Empire acted like a colonial power: Deringil, Selim, ‘“They Live in a State of Nomadism and Savagery” The Late Ottoman Empire and the Post-Colonial Debate’, Comparative Studies in Society and History, 45 (2003), pp. 311– 42; Makdisi, Ussama, ‘Ottoman Orientalism’, The American Historical Review, 107 (3) (2002), pp. 768– 96. On Turkish collective memory and its disconnection from the past: O¨zyu¨rek, Esra (ed.), Hatırladıklarıyla ve Unuttuklarıyla: Tu¨rkiye’nin Toplumsal Hafızası (Istanbul: Iletis¸im, 2001). Assmann: ‘Canon and Archive’, p. 98. Assmann: ‘Canon and Archive’, p. 98. The term avant-garde has been recently used to describe similarly unexpected groups such as the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. Barringer, Tim, Rosenfeld, Jason and Smith, Alison (eds), PreRaphaelites, Victorian Avant-Garde (London: Tate Publishing, 2012). Temperley, Harold, England and the Near East (London: Longmans, Greens and Co., 1936), p. 272. Kafadar, Cemal, ‘The Ottoman Empire and Europe’ in Thomas A. Brady, Heiko Augustinos Oberman and James D. Tracy (eds), Handbook of European History 1400– 1600. Late Middle Ages, Renaissance and Reformation. Structures and Assertions (Leiden: Brill, 1994), p. 614. Faroqui, Suraiya, Approaching Ottoman History. An Introduction to the Sources (Cambridge: CUP, 1999), p. 179. Davison, Roderic H., Reform in the Ottoman Empire 1856– 1876 (New York: Gordian Press, 1963/1973), p. 25. Lewis, Bernard, The Emergence of Modern Turkey (Oxford: OUP, 1961/2002), pp. 103– 13; Davison: Reform, p. 31. Ortaylı, I˙lber, I˙mparatorlug˘un En Uzun Yu¨zyılı (Istanbul: Alkım Yayınevi, 2005), pp. 87 – 121. Mahmud II established a privy council resembling a European-style cabinet to take the place of the divan. Davison: Reform, p. 28. Inalcık, Halil and Quataert, Donald (eds), An Economic and Social History of the Ottoman Empire 1600– 1914, vol. 2 (Cambridge: CUP, 1994), p. 765. Philliou, Christine M., Biography of an Empire. Governing Ottomans in an Age of Revolution (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2011), p. 112. Lewis: Emergence, pp. 109– 16. Cos¸kun, C¸akır, ‘Tanzimat’, in Gabor Agoston and Bruce Alan Masters (eds), Encyclopedia of the Ottoman Empire (New York: Facts on File Publishing, 2009), pp. 553– 5. Uneno, Masayuki, ‘“For the Fatherland And The State”: Armenians Negotiate the Tanzimat Reforms’, IJMES, 45 (2013), pp. 93 – 109. Fuad Pas¸a served as go-between and is prominent in the correspondence of the British Foreign Office.
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32. Karal, E.Z.. ‘ ‘Abd al- ’Aziz’ in H.A.R. Gibb, J. H. Kramers, E. Le´vi-Provencal, J. Schacht (eds), Encyclopaedia of Islam, Second Edition (EI-2), vol. 1 (Leiden: Brill, 1960), p. 56. 33. Lewis emphasizes the European influence of these institutions giving the model of the French Conseil d’Etat. Lewis: The Emergence, p. 121. 34. Deringil, Selim, The Well-Protected Domains. Ideology and the Legitimation of Power in the Ottoman Empire, 1876– 1909 (London and New York: I.B. Tauris, 1998). 35. Findley, Carter Vaughan, Ottoman Civil Officialdom: A Social History (Princeton and Oxford: Princeton University Press, 1989); Bureaucratic Reform in the Ottoman Empire: The Sublime Porte, 1789– 1922 (Princeton and Oxford: Princeton University Press, 1980). 36. Barnes, Robert John, ‘Evkaf-ı Hu¨mayun: Vakıf Administration under the Ottoman Ministry for Imperial Religious Foundations 1839– 1875’ (PhD dissertation, University of California, 1980). 37. Philliou: Biography of an Empire, Preface, p. xviii. 38. Fortna, Benjamin C., ‘An Historical Introduction to the Nineteenth Century: Trends and Influences’, in Doris Behrens-Abouseif and Stephen Vernoit (eds), Islamic Art in the Nineteenth Century. Tradition, Innovation and Eclecticism (Leiden: Brill, 2006), pp. 1 – 18. 39. Mardin, S¸erif, Religion, Society and Modernity in Turkey (New York: Syracuse University Press, 2006), p. 126. 40. Reinkowski, Maurus, ‘The State’s Security and The Subjects’ Prosperity: Notions of Order in Ottoman Bureaucratic Correspondence (Nineteenth Century)’, in Hakan T. Karateke and Maurus Reinkowski (eds), Legitimizing the Order. The Ottoman Rhetoric of State Power (Leiden: Brill, 2005), p. 211. 41. Findley, Carter Vaughan, ‘Medjelle’, in C.E. Bosworth, E. van Donzel and Ch. Pellat (eds), Encyclopaedia of Islam Second Edition (EI-2), vol. 6, (Leiden: Brill, 1991), pp. 971– 2. 42. Haniog˘lu, S¸u¨kru¨, A Brief History of the Late Ottoman Empire (Princeton and Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2008), p. 63. 43. Haniog˘lu: A Brief History, p. 95. 44. Mardin: Religion, Society and Modernity, p. 37; Mardin, S¸erif, The Genesis of Young Ottoman Thought: A Study in the Modernization of Turkish Political Ideals (New York: Syracuse University Press, 1962/2000), pp. 115– 17. 45. Haniog˘lu: A Brief History, p. 104. 46. Ersoy, Ahmet, ‘On the Sources of the “Ottoman Renaissance”: Architectural Revival and its Discourse During the Abdu¨laziz Era (1861– 76)’ (PhD dissertation, Harvard University, 2000). 47. Shaw, Wendy, Possessors and Possessed. Museums, Archaeology, and the Visualization of History in the Late Ottoman Empire (Berkeley, Los Angeles and London: University of California Press, 2003). 48. Deringil: The Well-Protected Domains, pp. 30 – 3. Grand Vezir Said Pas¸a was instructed to inspect the construction ‘from door to pulpit’, and photographs were taken of the interior of the Great Mosque of Bursa. 49. Inalcık and Quataert: An Economic and Social History, p. 829. 50. Kaiser, Hilmar, Imperialism, Racism, and Development Theories. The Construction of a Dominant Paradigm on Ottoman Armenians (Ann Arbor MI: Gomidas Institute, 1997), pp. 38 – 9. 51. Zu¨rcher, Erik, ‘The Ottoman Empire 1850– 1922: Unavoidable Failure?’ in Erik Zu¨rcher, The Young Turk Legacy And Nation Building From the Ottoman Empire to Atatu¨rk’s Turkey (London and New York: I.B. Tauris, 2010), p. 59. 52. Inalcık and Quataert: An Economic and Social History, p. 767. 53. Inalcık and Quataert: An Economic and Social History, p. 773. 54. Zu¨rcher: ‘The Ottoman Empire 1850 –1922’, p. 63. 55. Bloxham, Donald, The Great Game of Genocide: Imperialism, Nationalism, and the Destruction of the Ottoman Armenians (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005). 56. Haniog˘lu, S¸u¨kru¨, ‘The Second Constitutional Period’, in Res¸at Kasaba (ed.), Cambridge History of Turkey, Volume 4, Turkey in the Modern World (Cambridge: CUP, 2008), p. 91. 57. Fortna, Benjamin, ‘The Reign of Abdu¨lhamid II’, in Res¸at Kasaba (ed.), Cambridge History of Turkey, Volume 4, Turkey in the Modern World (Cambridge: CUP, 2008), p. 55.
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NOTES TO PAGES 7 –9
58. Fortna: ‘The Reign of Abdu¨lhamid II’, p. 55. 59. Ke´vorkian, Raymond, The Armenian Genocide. A Complete History (London and New York: I.B. Tauris, 2011), p. 11. 60. Fortna: ‘The Reign of Abdu¨lhamid II’, p. 55. 61. Duguid, Stephen, ‘The Politics of Unity: Hamidian Policy in Eastern Anatolia’, Middle Eastern Studies, 9 (2) (1973), pp. 148– 51. 62. Fortna: ‘The Reign of Abdu¨lhamid II’, p. 56; Suny and Go¨cek: ‘Introduction’, p. 6; Naimark, Norman M., ‘Preface’ in Ronald Grigor Suny, Fatma Mu¨ge Go¨cek and Norman M. Naimark (eds), A Question of Genocide. Armenians and Turks at the End of the Ottoman Empire (Oxford: OUP, 2011), p. xiv. 63. Bloxham: The Great Game of Genocide, p. 55. 64. Astourian, Stephan H., ‘The Silence of the Land: Agrarian Relations, Ethnicity, and Power’ in Ronald Grigor Suny, Fatma Mu¨ge Go¨cek and Norman M. Naimark (eds), A Question of Genocide. Armenians and Turks at the End of the Ottoman Empire (Oxford: OUP, 2011), pp. 55 – 82. 65. Ke´vorkian: The Armenian Genocide; Akcam, Taner, The Young Turks’ Crime Against Humanity. The Armenian Genocide and Ethnic Cleansing in the Ottoman Empire (Princeton New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 2012); Quataert, Donald, ‘The Massacres of Ottoman Armenians and the Writing of Ottoman History’, The Journal of Interdisciplinary History, 37 (20) (Autumn 2006), pp. 249– 59. 66. Mustafa Nuri Pas¸a, Netayic u¨l-Vukuat (Ankara: TTK, 1877/1992), vol. 2, p. 147. 67. Mustafa Nuri Pas¸a: Netayic u¨l-Vukuat, vol. 2, p. 147. 68. Mayer, L.A., ‘In Memoriam Halil Edhem Eldem (1861– 1938)’, Ars Islamica 6/2 (1939), p. 198. Halil Edhem published in the organs of the Republic Tarih-i Osmani Encu¨meni Mecmuası and Tu¨rk Tarih Encu¨meni Mecmuası. 69. Edhem, Halil, Nos Mosque´es De Stambul, translation by E. Mamboury (Stambul: Librairie Kanaat, 1934), p. 127. 70. Tanpınar, Ahmet Hamdi, XIX. Asır Tu¨rk Edebiyatı Tarihi (Istanbul: Yapı Kredi, 1949/2006), p. 130. 71. Tanpınar: XIX. Asır Tu¨rk Edebiyatı Tarihi, p. 130. 72. Tanpınar: XIX. Asır Tu¨rk Edebiyatı Tarihi, p. 151. 73. Pancarog˘lu, Oya, ‘Formalism and the Academic Foundation of Turkish Art in the Early Twentieth Century’, Muqarnas, vol. 24 (2007), p. 68. 74. So¨zen, Metin, The Evolution of Turkish Art and Architecture (Istanbul: Has¸et Kitabevi, 1987), p. 160. So¨zen was a student of Oktay Aslanapa who in turn was a student of Ernest Diez from the Viennese school of formalism, who taught at Istanbul University and thus imported this formalism to Turkey. 75. So¨zen: The Evolution of Turkish Art and Architecture, p. 158. 76. Aslanapa, Oktay, Turkish Art and Architecture (London: Faber and Faber, 1971), p. 236. 77. Aslanapa: Turkish Art and Architecture, p. 236. 78. This relationship of the sofa of nineteenth-century palaces to the plans of traditional Ottoman houses was identified in the mid-twentieth century by Sedad Hakkı Eldem. 79. Kuban, Dog˘an, Ottoman Architecture (Woodbridge: Antique Collectors Club, 2010), p. 623. 80. Batur, Afife, ‘An Influential Name in Nineteenth-Century Ottoman Architecture: The Balians’, in Hasan Kuruyazıcı (ed.), Armenian Architects of Istanbul in the Era of Westernization (Istanbul: International Hrant Dink Foundation Publications, 2010), p. 39. 81. Saner, Turgut, 19. Yu¨zyıl Istanbul Mimarlıg˘ında ‘Oryantalizm’ (Istanbul: Pera Turizm Yayınları, 1998). 82. Ersoy: ‘On the Sources of the “Ottoman Renaissance”’, Abstract. 83. European artist C.G. Hornig states that Euge`ne Maillard (an author of the Usul) was ‘... the right arm of the Armenian architect of the Sultan and a welcome visitor in the palace’. Ersoy: ‘On the Sources of the “Ottoman Renaissance”’, p. 153. Hornig, Charles Guillaume, Se´jours et promenades a` Constantinople, 1860– 1861 (Paris: impr. de E. Blot, 1867), p. 106. Another of the authors, Pietro Montani, could have been involved in the Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque’s decoration, and a
NOTES TO PAGES 9 –11
84.
85. 86. 87. 88. 89. 90. 91. 92. 93. 94. 95. 96. 97.
98.
99. 100.
101.
102.
189
document from 1871 describes Montani as ‘chief painter’ of the C¸ırag˘an Palace. Ersoy: ‘On the Sources of the “Ottoman Renaissance”’, p. 180. Ersoy states in a footnote: ‘Agop and Serkis must have been outsiders to the close professional/ intellectual circle that had formed around the figure of Ibrahim Edhem and the Ministry of Public Works. They must have been regarded more as kalfas, men of practice, by the intellectually inclined authors of the Usul.’ Ersoy: ‘On the Sources of the “Ottoman Renaissance”’, p. 312. C¸elik, Zeynep, The Remaking of Istanbul. Portrait of an Ottoman City in the Nineteenth Century (Berkeley, Los Angeles and Oxford: University of California Press, 1986/1993), p. 126. C¸elik: The Remaking of Istanbul, p. 149 C¸elik: The Remaking of Istanbul, p. 150. Bozdog˘an, Sibel, Modernism and Nation Building: Turkish Architectural Culture in the Early Republic (Washington: University of Washington Press, 2001), p. 23. Bozdog˘an: Modernism and Nation Building, pp. 23 – 4. Bozdog˘an: Modernism and Nation Building, pp. 27 – 8. Assmann: ‘Canon and Archive’, pp. 97 – 8. Graves, Margaret S., ‘Feeling Uncomfortable in the Nineteenth Century’, Journal of Art Historiography, vol. 6 (June 2012), pp. 1– 27. Cahen, Claude, ‘Dhimma’, in B. Lewis, Ch. Pellat and J. Schacht (eds), Encyclopaedia of Islam, vol. 2, 2nd edn (EI-2) (Leiden: Brill, 1965), pp. 227– 31. Ursinus, Michael, ‘Millet’, in C.E. Bosworth, E. van Donzel, W.P. Heinrichs and Ch. Pellat (eds), Encyclopaedia of Islam, vol. 7, 2nd edn (EI-2) (Leiden: Brill, 1993), pp. 61 – 4. Cohen, Amnon, ‘On the Realities of the Millet System’, in Benjamin Braude and Bernard Lewis (eds), Christians and Jews in the Ottoman Empire, vol. 2 (New York: Holmes and Meier, 1982), pp. 7 – 18. Canard, Marius, ‘Arminya’, in B. Lewis, Ch. Pellat and J. Schacht (eds), Encyclopaedia of Islam, vol. 1, 2nd edn (EI-2) (Leiden: Brill, 1960), pp. 636– 40. Panossian, Razmik, The Armenians: From Kings and Priests to Merchants and Commissars (New York: Columbia, 1996); Baghdiantz McCabe, Ina, ‘Global Trading Ambitions in Diaspora: The Armenians and their Eurasian Silk Trade’, in Ina Baghdiantz McCabe, G. Harlaftis and I.P. Minoglou (eds), Diaspora Entrepreneurial Networks (New York: Berg, 2005), pp. 27 – 50; Aslanian has revised the notion of ‘trade Diaspora’/‘servants of power’. Aslanian, Sebouh David, From the Indian Ocean to the Mediterranean. The Global Trade Networks of Armenian Merchants from New Julfa (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2011). Avdall, Johannes, ‘A Covenant of ‘Ali, Fourth Caliph of Baghdad, Granting Certain Immunities and Privileges To The Armenian Nation’, Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, vol. XXXIX, Part I, (Nos 1 – IV, 1870), pp. 60– 4. An Armenian translation was made in 1767 in Astrakhan, authenticated in Constantinople in 1804. Heusen, Robert, ‘In Search of Armenian Nobility: Five Armenian Families of the Ottoman Empire’, Journal of the Society for Armenian Studies, vol. 3 (1987), pp. 93 – 117. National Archives, HO (Home Office) 45/4950, 25 July 1853, memos by Metropolitan Police regarding ‘Leo Korkios Prince of Armenia’ who moved from Russia to England; FO (Foreign Office) 141/705 Files of ‘The Residency, Cairo’, 1933, No. 612, file concerns ‘Prince Peter Hagop Mamour of Alexandria, Egypt, at present residing at 20 Tavistock Place...’ descendent of the Fatimid Caliphs; Vanandeci, Mirza Serkis, Descent of Her Majesty Victoria Queen of England, from the Arsacid Kings of Armenia (Smyrna, 1866). Bardakjian, Kevork B., ‘The Rise of the Armenian Patriarchate of Constantinople’, in B. Braude and B. Lewis, Christians and Jews in the Ottoman Empire, The Central Lands, vol. 1 (New York: Holmes and Meier, 1982), p. 95; Anasyan, H.S., XVII dari azatagrakan sarzumnern Arevmtyan Hayastanum (Yerevan: Haykaran SSR GA hrat., 1961), pp. 58 –70. C¸ark, Y.G., Tu¨rk Devleti Hizmetinde Ermeniler 1453– 1953 (Istanbul: Yeni Matbaa, 1953), p. 45, who cites ‘Mırmıryan, Tu¨rkiye Ermeni Tu¨ccarları (Istanbul, 1908), p. 7’; Mermerian, H., Towrkahayoc hin vajarakanowtiun yev vajarakan (1740– 1890) (Bolis: Tpagrowtiun Sagaean, 1908).
190
NOTES TO PAGES 11 –14
103. Destrilles, M., Confidences sur La Turquie (Paris: E. Dentu, 1955), p. 156. 104. D’Aubignosc, L.P.B., La Turquie Nouvelle juge´e au point ou l’ont amene´e les Re´formes du Sultan Mahmoud (Paris: Delloye, 1839), p. 166. 105. Pamukciyan, Kevork, Ermeni Harflı Tu¨rkce Metinler (Istanbul: Aras, 2002), pp. 174– 90. 106. Batmaz, S¸akir, ‘Abdu¨laziz ve Bog˘az’da Mars¸ Okuyan Ermeni C¸ocukları’, in Metin Hu¨lagu¨, S¸akir Batmaz, Su¨leyman Demirci and Gu¨lbadi Alan (eds), Hos¸go¨ru¨ Toplumunda Ermeniler, vol. V (Kayseri: ¨ niversitesi Yayını, 2007), pp. 353–73. Erciyes U 107. Canard: ‘Arminya’, p. 640. 108. National Archives, FO/ 78/4334, Therapia, 13 Sept. 1890, p. 202. 109. Davison, Roderic, ‘Tanzimat’, Encyclopaedia of Islam, vol. 10, 2nd edn (EI-2), P. Bearman, Th. Bianquis, C.E. Bosworth, E. van Donzel, W.P. Heinrichs (ed.), (Leiden: Brill 2000), pp. 201–9. 110. Davison,‘Tanzimat’, pp. 201–9. Bes¸iryan, Aylin, ‘Hopes of Secularization in the Ottoman Empire: The Armenian National Constitution and the Armenian Newspaper, Masis, 1856– 1863’ (MA dissertation, Bosphorus University, 2007). 111. Karpat, Kemal, ‘Millets and Nationality: The Roots of the Incongruity of Nation and State in the Post-Ottoman Era’, in B. Braude and B. Lewis (eds), Christians and Jews in the Ottoman Empire, The Central Lands, vol. 1 (New York: Holmes and Meier, 1982), p. 156. 112. Ortaylı, I˙lber, ‘Greeks in the Ottoman Administration During the Tanzimat Period’, in Dimitri Gondicas and Charles Issawi (eds), Ottoman Greeks in the Age of Nationalism (Princeton NJ: The Darwin Press, 1999), p. 161. 113. Findley: Ottoman Civil Officialdom, p. 86. 114. Etmekjian, James, The French Influence on the Western Armenian Renaissance (New York: Twayne, 1964), p. 101. 115. Alboyadjian, Archag, ‘Azgayin Sahmanatrutyune, ir Tsakume yev Kirarutyune’ (The National Constitution, Its Origin and Application), Intarsak Oratzuytz Surp Pırgicyan Hivantanotzi Hayotz (Istanbul: Surp Pırgic, 1910), pp. 76 –528. 116. Artinian, Vartan, The Armenian Constitutional System in the Ottoman Empire, 1839– 1863: A Study of its Historical Development (Istanbul: Isis Press, 1988), p. 74. 117. Barsoumian, Hagop L., The Armenian Amira Class of Istanbul (Yerevan: American University of Armenia, 2007). Preface by Khachig Toloyan. 118. Barsoumian: The Armenian Amira, p. 35. 119. Ibid., p. 43 (cites ‘Ketchian, p. 226, and Berberyan, p. 203’). 120. Ibid., p. 46. 121. Ibid., p. 75. 122. Ibid., p. 76. 123. Ibid., p. 77. 124. Curzon, Robert, Visit to Monasteries in the Levant (London: John Murray, 1851), p. 41. Curzon was notoriously anti-Armenian, as was MacFarlane. Bardakjian, Kevork, ‘Armenia and Armenians through the Eyes of English Travellers of the Nineteenth Century’, in Richard Hovannisian (ed.), The Amenian Image in History and Literature (Malibu, California: Undena Publications, 1981), p. 141 on Curzon and pp. 149– 50 on MacFarlane. 125. De Launay, Marie, Montani, Pietro et al., Usul-u Mimar-i Osmani/L’Architecture Ottoman (Istanbul: Tarih Aras¸tırmalar Vakfı, T.C. Ku¨ltu¨r Bakanlıg˘ı, 1873/1998), p. 16. 126. Mustafa, Nuri Pas¸a, Netayic u¨l-Vukuat, vol. 2 (Ankara: TTK, 1877/1992), p. 147. 127. Lu¨tfi Efendi, Ahmed, Vak’a-Nu¨vis Ahmed Lu¨tfi Efendi Tarihi, vol. 8 (Ankara: TTK, 1894/1988), pp. 116– 17; Cezar, Mustafa, Sanatta Batıya Acılıs¸ ve Osman Hamdi (Istanbul: Is¸ Bankası Yayınları, 1971), p. 130. 128. Said, Edward, Orientalism (London: Penguin Books Ltd., 1978/ 2003). 129. Cevdet Pas¸a, Tezakir, vol. 1 (Ankara: TTK, 1839 –72/1991), p. 67. 130. Necipog˘lu, Gu¨lru and Bozdog˘an, Sibel, ‘Entangled discourses: scrutinizing Orientalist and Nationalist legacies in the architectural historiography of the Lands of Rum’, Muqarnas, vol. 24 (2007), p.1.
NOTES TO PAGES 14 –17
191
131. Prince Mıgırdic Bey Dadyan was a well-known writer in Europe, and the son of the chief powder-maker Bog˘os Bey Dadyan. Pamukciyan, Kevork, Biografileriyle Ermeniler (Istanbul: Aras, 2003), p. 199. 132. Dadyan, Prince Mek. B., ‘La Socie´te´ Arme´nienne Contemporaine Les Arme´niens De L’Empire Ottoman’, Revue des Deux Mondes, T. 69 (Paris: A. Franck, 1867). 133. Aktar, Ayhan, Varlık Vergisi ve Tu¨rkles¸tirme Politikaları (Istanbul: Iletis¸im, 2000). 134. From 6 to 7 September 1955 there were state-led riots in Istanbul against minorities. These riots were part of the Cyprus conflict and prompted by false rumours that Atatu¨rk’s past house in Salonika had been bombed. In 1964 there were further problems following the massacres of Turkish Cypriots: the residence permits of Greeks were taken away forcing them to leave. 135. Smith, Thomas, W., ‘Civic Nationalism and Ethnocultural Justice in Turkey’, Human Rights Quarterly, 27/2 (May 2005), pp. 436– 70. Go¨cek, Fatma Mu¨ge, ‘Through a Glass Darkly: Consequences of a Politicized Past in Contemporary Turkey’, Annals of the American Academy of Political Science, vol. 617 (May 2008), pp. 88 – 106. 136. Berberyan, Avedis, Badmutyun Hayots (Bolis: Tpagrowtiun Pogosi Kirislian, 1871). 137. Pamukciyan: Biografileriyle Ermeniler, pp. 117– 19. 138. Barsoumian: The Armenian Amira, p. 7. 139. Berberyan: Batmutyun Hayots, pp. 519– 20. 140. Zartaryan, Vahan, His¸adagaran (Cairo: Gratun Vahan Zartaryan, 1933– 1939). 141. Pamukciyan: Biografileriyle Ermeniler, pp. 386– 7. 142. Zartaryan: His¸adagaran, vol. 2, p. 43. 143. Pamukciyan: Biografileriyle Ermeniler, p. 289. Kuyumjian, Rita Soulahian, Teotig: Biography (London: Gomidas Institute and Tekeyan Cultural Association, 2010). This biography does not shed light on the sources used. 144. Teotik, Teotik Amenun Daretsuytsi (Bolis: Tpagr. V. yev H. Ter-Nersesian, 1907– 29), issue from 1921, pp. 257–8. 145. Ibid., pp. 257– 67. 146. Vasari: Vasari’s Lives of the Artists. 147. C¸ark: Tu¨rk Devleti. I have not been able to find C¸ark’s first name. Go¨cek suggests that since C¸ark was writing in the 1950s (a time of pogroms), he did not wish to be identified. 148. Ibid., p. 74 (the only information given by C¸ark on his sources are the words: ‘Ermeni hastanesi salnamesi, 1900, p. 151, Surp Pırgic mecmuası, pp. 37–40, B. Erziyan, Mırmıryan ve His¸adagaran, p. 167’). 149. Banog˘lu, Ahmet Niyazi, Tarih Du¨nyası Mecmuası, year I, issue 6, 1950. 150. C¸ark: Tu¨rk Devleti, p. 75. 151. Ibid., p. 75. 152. Pamuk, Orhan, Istanbul: Memories of a City (London: Faber and Faber, 2005), p. 139. Kocu, Res¸ad Ekrem, I˙stanbul Ansiklopedisi (Istanbul: Kocu Yayınları, 1960). The issues of the 1960s have been replaced by new volumes, but the articles of Pamukciyan have been reprinted as Biografileriyle Ermeniler (Istanbul: Aras, 2003), which offers biographies of the Balyans, and Zamanlar, Mekanlar, Insanlar (Istanbul: Aras, 2003), which deals with their origins. 153. Pamukciyan: Zamanlar, Mekanlar, Insanlar, p. 124. 154. Pamukciyan: Biografileriyle Ermeniler, pp. 94 – 5. 155. Pamukciyan does not notice errors in the dates of the Armenian accounts. Zartaryan: His¸adagaran, p. 160, states that Bali’s son Minas died in 1703. According to Barsoumian, the date is probably misprinted and should read 1730. Barsoumian: The Armenian Amira, p. 79. Zartaryan should also have stated Mahmud I. 156. Pamukciyan: Biografileriyle Ermeniler, pp. 97 – 100. 157. Morkoc: A Study of Ottoman Narratives on Architecture, p. 107. 158. Bog˘osyan, Rahip Yeprem, Balyan Kertasdanı (Vienna: Mekhitaryan Tparan, 1981), p. 2. 159. Bog˘osyan: Balyan Kertasdanı, pp. 9 – 10; S¸og˘agat, Issue 1 (Bolis, 1966), p. 14. 160. Odian, Krikor, Haweluats i Meghu : mah Nikoghos Aghayi Palean (Bolis : i Tparani Rubeni ˙ K‘iwrk‘chean, 1858), special issue of the periodical Meg˘u issued on the death of Nigog˘os Balyan on 10th March 1858, henceforth ‘Meg˘u 1858’.
192
NOTES TO PAGES 17 –21
161. Bog˘osyan: Balyan Kertasdanı, p. 178. 162. Ibid., p. 245. 163. Tug˘lacı, Pars, The Role of the Balian Family in Ottoman Architecture (Istanbul: Yeni C¸ıg˘ır, 1990), inside cover. 164. Gunter, Michael, ‘Armenian Terrorism: A Reappraisal’, Journal of Conflict Studies 27/2 (2007), pp. 109– 28. ASALA was created following the deletion, under Turkish pressure, of para. 30 from a report of the Commission on Human Rights of the United Nations in 1973– 4, which referred to 1915 as the first case of genocide in the twentieth century. 165. Gunter: ‘Armenian Terrorism: A Reappraisal’, p. 118. 166. Go¨cek: ‘Through a Glass Darkly’, p. 101. 167. Tug˘lacı: The Role of the Balian Family, p. vii. 168. Ibid., p. 6. 169. Ibid., p. 5. 170. Ibid., p. 430. 171. Cezar: Sanatta Batıya Acılıs¸, pp. 110–11. 172. Ibid., p. 112 (Cezar lists his source as ‘BBK Dahiliye Iradeleri no: 62 375’). 173. Ibid., p. 112 (Cezar cites Tarih-i Lu¨tfi, vol. 2, p. 163). 174. Ibid., pp. 116– 17. 175. Ibid., p. 117. 176. Ibid., p. 117. 177. Ibid., p. 117. 178. This was ‘discrimination rooted in centuries of history’ in which non-Muslims were referred to by different names when they died and through diminutive suffixes such as ‘-aki’. Eldem, Edhem, ‘Discovering “Other” Architects’ in Hasan Kuruyazıcı (ed.), Armenian Architects of Istanbul in the Era of Westernization (Istanbul: International Hrant Dink Foundation Publications, 2010), p. 15. 179. Akozan, Feridun, ‘Osmanlı Mimarlıg˘ında Batılılas¸ma do¨nemi ve Balyan Ailesi adlı kitap ve gercekler’ (Istanbul, 1983). Thanks to Ahmet Sezgin for notifying me of this source. 180. Akozan: ‘Osmanlı Mimarlıg˘ında Batılılas¸ma do¨nemi’, p. 8. 181. Ibid., p. 9. 182. Can, Selman, ‘Osmanlı Mimarlık Tes¸kilatının XIX. Yu¨zyıldaki Deg˘is¸im Su¨reci ve Eserleri ile Mimar Seyyid Abdu¨lhalim Efendi’ (PhD dissertation, Istanbul University, 2002). 183. Zaman, 23 December 2007. 184. Can: ‘Osmanlı Mimarlık’, p. 8. 185. Ibid., p. 8. 186. Ibid., p. 16. 187. Ibid., p. 18. 188. Ibid., p. 19. 189. The members of the Building Council included Krikor, Minas, Ku¨cu¨k Ohannes, Panayot, Todori, and Onikos. Ohannes and Istefan joined meetings. Can: ‘Osmanlı Mimarlık’, p. 20 (Can cites ‘BBK, I.Mes. Mu¨h., nr.175,7 C. 1264/ 11 Mayıs 1848’). 190. The term mu¨nakasa, according to Redhouse, meant ‘selling by Dutch auction, successively lowering the price’. It referred to the putting out to tender of a contract for building work. 191. Can: ‘Osmanlı Mimarlık’, p. 52. He states that: ‘. . . with the ‘Mu¨nakasa System’, which started to be used following the establishment of the Building Council, the procedure in place for building works was totally changed and passed into a system for referring contracts (ihale). Within this system, after the plans and project specifications for a building were prepared by the Building Directorate, the contract for a project was put out to referral with an estimated amount. According to this specified amount, the job, along with a contract (mukavele), was delivered to the contractor who proposed the lowest price. For architect-kalfas of Armenian and Greek roots (ko¨kenli) this situation became an important opportunity – because they were people of trade and the market of building materials was in their hands. At once non-Muslims took part in every referral of a contract (ihale) held.’ 192. Can: ‘Osmanlı Mimarlık’, p. 75 (Can cites ‘BBK, I.Mes. Mu¨s., nr. 688’).
NOTES TO PAGES 21 – 25
193
193. Nalbantog˘lu, Gu¨lsum Baydar, ‘The Professionalization of the Ottoman-Turkish Architect’ (PhD dissertation, University of California, Berkeley, 1989), pp. 46 – 7. 194. S¸enyurt, Oya, Osmanlı Mimarlık O¨rgu¨tlenmesinde Deg˘is¸im ve Do¨nu¨¸su¨m (Istanbul: Dog˘u Kitabevi, 2011), p. 48. 195. Nalbantog˘lu: ‘The Professionalization’, p. 162; S¸enyurt: Osmanlı Mimarlık, p. 48. 196. Can: ‘Osmanlı Mimarlık’, p. 88. ‘For this reason, examples such as the Balyans held the function not of architect but of supervisor in the majority of buildings that they constructed.’ 197. Can: ‘Osmanlı Mimarlık’, p. 88. ‘Osmanlı mimarlık tarihinde Sermimar-ı Hassa u¨nvanını tas¸ıyan ilk kis¸i Mimar Sinan’dır. Bu u¨nvanın son sahibi de Seyyid Abdu¨lhalim Efendi’dir.’ 198. Fatma Mu¨ge Go¨cek argues that denial of the Armenian matter has led to surges of violence. Go¨cek, Fatma Mu¨ge, ‘Deciphering Denial: Ottoman Past, Turkish Present and the Collective Violence Against Armenians 1789– 2009’ (lecture given at SOAS, University of London, 12 May 2011). The first article in Zaman newspaper on the Balyan family and the work of Selman Can in January 2007 (and the reaction on web forums) was shortly before the murder of Hrant Dink (19 January 2007). 199. Demircan, Habibe, ‘Dolmabahce Sarayı’nın mimarı Balyan ailesi deg˘ilmis¸’, Zaman, 2 January 2007. 200. Dolmacı, Emine, ‘Sarayların ve ko¨s¸klerin mimarı, Balyan ailesi deg˘ilmis¸’, Zaman, 23 December 2007. 201. Erol, Aydil, ‘Balyanlar palavrası ve Kemaleddin Beg˘ gerceg˘i!’, Ufuk O¨tesi, November 2008, No. 79. 202. I met with the organizers of the exhibition and editors of the catalogue, Hasan Kuruyazıcı and Zeynep Tas¸kın, in June 2010. I wrote two essays for the catalogue, (‘The Identity of the Ottoman Architect in the Age of “Westernization’’ ’, pp. 18–33 and ‘Mosque Building in the Tanzimat Period’, pp. 90–105 in H. Kuruyazıcı (ed.), Armenian Architects), and attended the exhibition opening in December 2010. Media cuttings are on the website of the Hrant Dink Foundation. Selman Can gave an interview to Turkish Daily News complaining that ‘Turkish architects’ were ignored in the exhibition, and there were articles in extreme online publications, such as Mir Haber, but the reaction of the major newspapers was positive, reflecting the progress since Hrant Dink’s death. 203. Nalbantog˘lu: ‘The Professionalization’, p. 2. 204. Ibid., p. 162 205. Ibid., p. 168 206. Ibid., p. 168 207. Ibid., p. 169 208. S¸enyurt: Osmanlı Mimarlık, p. 189 (S¸enyurt cites ‘BBK. YEE. D:110, G:18’). 209. Ibid., p. 195. 210. Go¨ncu¨, Cengiz, ‘Beylerbeyi Sarayı’nın Ins¸a Su¨reci, Tes¸kilatı ve Kullanımı’ (MA dissertation, Istanbul University, 2006). 211. Go¨ncu¨: ‘Beylerbeyi Sarayı’, p. 27 (Go¨ncu¨ lists the source as ‘HH.EBA, 2/10, 2/30’).
Chapter 2 The Position of Imperial Architect and the Balyan Family 1. Ubicini, A., Letters on Turkey: An Account of the Religious, Political, Social and Commercial Condition of the Ottoman Empire, trans. Lady Easthope (London: John Murray, 1856), p. 316. 2. Uzuncars¸ılı, I˙smail Hakkı, Osmanlı Devleti Saray Tes¸kilatı (Ankara: TTK, 1945/ 1988), p. 377. 3. Necipog˘lu, Gu¨lru, The Age of Sinan: Architectural Culture in the Ottoman Empire (London: Reaktion, 2005), p. 154. 4. Necipog˘lu: The Age of Sinan, p. 153. 5. Ibid., p. 161. 6. Ibid., p. 153. 7. Afyoncu, Fatma, XVII. Yu¨zyılda Hassa Mimarları Ocag˘ı (Ankara: T.C. Ku¨ltu¨r Bakanlıg˘ı, 2001), pp. 8 – 9.
194
NOTES TO PAGES 25 –28
8. Uzuncars¸ılı: Osmanlı Devleti Saray Tes¸kilatı, p. 377; Can, Selman, ‘Osmanlı Mimarlık Tes¸kilatının XIX. Yu¨zyıldaki Deg˘is¸im Su¨reci ve Eserleri ile Mimar Seyyid Abdu¨lhalim Efendi’ (PhD dissertation, Istanbul University, 2002), p. 2. 9. Can: ‘Osmanlı Mimarlık’, p. 5; Turan, S¸erefettin, ‘Osmanlı Tes¸kilatında Hassa Mimarları’, Ankara U¨niversitesi Dil ve Tarih-Cog˘rafya Faku¨ltesi Dergisi, I (1) (1963), p. 159. 10. Afyoncu: XVII. Yu¨zyılda, p. 27. 11. Ibid., p. 29. 12. Necipog˘lu: The Age of Sinan, p. 166. 13. Ibid., p. 175. 14. Ibid., p. 171. 15. Ibid., p. 174. 16. Ibid., p. 142. 17. Ibid., p. 171. 18. Can: ‘Osmanlı Mimarlık’, p. 9; Turan: ‘Osmanlı Tes¸kilatında Hassa Mimarları’, p. 164. 19. Necipog˘lu: The Age of Sinan, p. 166. 20. Ibid., p. 178. 21. Afyoncu: XVII. Yu¨zyılda, p. 57. 22. Necipog˘lu: The Age of Sinan, p. 165. 23. Ibid., p. 180. 24. Ibid., p. 182. 25. Ibid., p. 135. 26. Can: ‘Osmanlı Mimarlık’, p. 88; Akozan, Feridun, ‘Osmanlı Mimarlıg˘ında Batılılas¸ma do¨nemi ve Balyan Ailesi adlı kitap ve gercekler’ (Istanbul, 1983). 27. Sami, S¸emseddin, Kaamus-i Turki (Istanbul: Dersaadet, lkdam Matbaası, 1901), pp. 1079 –80. 28. Sami: Kaamus-i Turki, p. 1271. 29. BBK, A)MKT.NZD, D:75, G:37, 1269.C.15/1853, concerning building Mıgırdic’s coastal home. 30. Cerasi, Maurice, ‘Late-Ottoman Architects And Master Builders’, Muqarnas, vol. 5 (1988), p. 87. 31. Pamukciyan, Kevork, Zamanlar, Mekanlar, Insanlar (Istanbul: Aras, 2003), p. 166. Pamukciyan gives biographies of individuals such as Agop Kalfa, based on Armenian sources. 32. Pamukciyan: Zamanlar, Mekanlar, Insanlar, p. 147. 33. Tug˘lacı, Pars, Osmanlı Mimarlıg˘ında Batılılas¸ma Do¨nemi ve Balyan Ailesi (Istanbul: Inkilap ve AKA, 1981), p. 7. 34. Ahmed Efendi, ‘Tarih-i Cami-i Nuruosmani’, Vakıflar Dergisi, vol. XXIV (1994), transliterated by Ali O¨ngu¨l, p. 134. 35. Ahmed Efendi: ‘Tarih-i Cami-i’, p. 142. 36. Ibid., p. 129. 37. Ibid., pp. 130– 1. 38. Pamukciyan: Zamanlar, Mekanlar, Insanlar, p. 157. 39. O¨z, Tahsin, Istanbul Camileri (Ankara: TTK, 1962/87), vol. 1, p. 96. 40. Colonas, Vassilis, Greek Architects in the Ottoman Empire (Athens: Olkos, 2005), p. 43; Colonas cites ‘Athanasios Komninos Ypsilantis, After the Fall (1453 – 1789) (Constantinople, 1870), p. 12’. 41. Can: ‘Osmanlı Mimarlık’, p. 16. 42. Ibid., p. 52. 43. BBK, A.AMD, D: 29, G:90. 1267.4.2/1850. 44. Can: ‘Osmanlı Mimarlık’, p. 20. 45. BBK, MSM, D:23, G:592, 1264.L.13/1848. 46. BBK, A.)MKT.NZD, D:132, G:30, 1271.Ca.23/1855. 47. Mustafa Nuri Pas¸a, Netayic u¨l-Vukuat (Ankara: TTK, 1877/1992), vol. 2, p. 147. 48. BBK, A.)MKT.MVL, D:131, G:82, 1278.S.28/1861. 49. One example is Anesti Kalfa from Fener who was employed on repairs to the Ku¨rkcu¨kapı police station in 1855, but due to the collapse of the foundations he was not paid. BBK, A.) MKT.MVL,
NOTES TO PAGES 28 –32
50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62.
63. 64. 65.
66. 67. 68. 69. 70. 71. 72. 73. 74. 75.
195
D:78, G:21, 1272.C.04/1855. In 1860 he was exiled to Bursa, and accused of bribery and fraud. BBK, A)MKT.MVL, D:124, G:47, 1277.B.15/1860. In 1805, Todori was awarded the contract for the Audience Hall of the Grand Vizier within the Sublime Porte following the estimate by the Sermimar-i Hassa Ibrahim Kamil Bey. BBK, C.DH, D:178, G:8887, 1220.S.21/1805. Cerasi: ‘Late-Ottoman Architects’ pp. 87 – 102. Journal de Constantinople, 1 January 1848. Levant Herald, 24 July 1873. Journal de Constantinople, 21 February 1848. Journal de Constantinople, 16 March 1848. Journal de Constantinople, 21 April 1848. Hill, Rosemary, God’s Architect. Pugin and the Building of Romantic Britain (London: Penguin Books, 2007), p. 130. Pugin, A.N., The Collected Letters I (1830– 1842), edited by Margaret Belcher (Oxford: OUP, 2003), p. 44. Pamukciyan: Zamanlar, Mekanlar, Insanlar, p. 124; Zartaryan, Vahan, His¸adagaran (Cairo: Gratun Vahan Zartaryan, 1933 –1939), p. 160; Barsoumian, Hagop, Levon, The Armenian Amira Class of Istanbul (Yerevan: American University of Armenia, 2007), p. 79. Pamukciyan: Zamanlar, Mekanlar, Insanlar, p. 125. Pamukciyan, Kevork, Istanbul Yazıları (Istanbul: Aras, 2002), p. xiii. Bog˘osyan, Rahip Yeprem, Balyan Kertasdanı (Vienna: Mekhitaryan Tparan, 1981), p. 2. The nakharar were dukes within a feudal system. Toumanoff, Cyril, Studies in Christian Caucasian History (Washington D.C.: Georgetown University Press, 1963), pp. 114– 17. They also held dynastic power over their kingdom. Ishkhan (prince) and nakharar (duke) are often used interchangeably. Redgate, A.E., The Armenians (Oxford: Blackwell, 1998), p. 98. Bog˘osyan: Balyan Kertasdanı, p. 4. De Caston, Alfred, ‘Le Grand Mouvement Architectural dans l’Empire Ottoman’, Revue de Constantinople, vol. 1 (7 March 1875), pp. 395– 421. Saint-Martin, Jean, Me´moires historiques et ge´ographiques sur l’Arme´nie, suivis du texte arme´nien de l’histoire des Princes Orpe´lians (Paris: De l’Imprimerie Royale, 1818). Concerning the region of Maras¸: ‘Dans les derniers temps, elle e´tait le chef-lieu d’un gouvernement posse´de´ par une famille Turcomane, feudataire de la Porte Ottomane’, vol. I, p. 200; Alboyadjian, Archag, Les Dadian, trans. Anna Naguib Boutros-Ghali (Cairo, 1965), p. 16. Barsoumian: The Armenian Amira, p. 79. ‘A whole set of definitions was worked out in order not to have to come to terms with Ottomans as artists, craftsmen or musicians.’ Faroqui, Suraiya, Approaching Ottoman History. An Introduction to the Sources (Cambridge: CUP, 1999), p. 131. Strauss, Johann, ‘Le livre francais d’Istanbul (1730– 1908)’, Revue des mondes musulmans et de la Me´diterrane´e, 87 – 88 (1999), pp. 35 – 6. De Caston, Alfred, Constantinople en 1869, histoire des hommes et des choses par A. de Caston (Paris: J. Kugelmann, 1868), pp. 268– 9. Macler, Fre´de´ric, Autour De L’Arme´nie, A L’E´cole Nationale et Spe´ciale Des Langues Orientales Vivantes (Paris: Librairie E. Nourry, 1917), p. 47. Macler, Fre´de´ric, L’Arme´nie. Simple Me´morandum (Paris: Revue chrétienne, 1922), p. 6. De Morgan, Jacques, Histoire du Peuple Arme´nien. Depuis les temps les plus recule´s de ses annales jusqu’a nos jours (Paris: Berger-Leurault, 1919), p. 263. Cezar, Mustafa, Sanatta Batıya Acılıs¸ ve Osman Hamdi ( Istanbul: Is¸ Bankası Yayınları, 1971), p. 112 (cites BBK Dahiliye Iradeleri no: 62 375). Barsoumian: The Armenian Amira, p. 79, Barsoumian states that Armenian histories mention as relatives not only Bali and Minas, but also Serkis Kalfa who built a church in 1727 and may have been Arabog˘lu Melidon Kalfa’s deputy. Teotik, Teotik Amenun Daretsuytsi (Bolis: Tpagr. V. yev H. Ter-Nersesian, 1907 – 29) 1921 issue, p. 257
196
NOTES TO PAGES 32 –35
76. Bog˘osyan: Balyan Kertasdanı, p. 8 (cites Yerkiyean, Surp Pırgic (Bolis, 1952), pp. 37 and 11). 77. Ibid., p. 8 (cites the newspaper Jamanak, Bolis, 1910, issue 377). 78. Ibid., p. 9. Bog˘osyan states that the full text from 1831 is included in the work of Azadian, Toros (1895 – 1955), Զիյճ, p. 26. 79. In 1809 Krikor and his descendents were made exempt from taxes (iki us¸ag˘ı bas¸lık, esbic, kol, cariye, bag˘ ve bahce, ciftlik, kasabiye, ku¨rekci) as well as the cizye tax and from the masdariye duty levied on exports and property tax (emlak vergisi), he could have clothes in the cut he wanted, ride horses, let his beard grow, and he could ride in his kayık with his oarsman. He could do all of these things except when in the presence of the Divan-i Asaf (Council of the Grand Vizier). 80. There are several documents reproduced in Tug˘lacı, Pars, The Role of the Balian Family in Ottoman Architecture (Istanbul: Yeni C¸ıg˘ır, 1990), p. 692, but these refer to the 1830s. 81. C¸ark, Y.G., Tu¨rk Devleti Hızmetinde Ermeniler (Istanbul, 1953), pp. 71 – 2. 82. Teotik: Teotik Amenun Daretsuytsi, p. 257. 83. Bog˘osyan: Balyan Kertasdanı, p. 4 (cites Զիյճ, p. 26). 84. Redgate: The Armenians, p. 174. 85. Baghdiantz McCabe, Ina, ‘Global Trading Ambitions in Diaspora: The Armenians and their Eurasian Silk Trade’, in Ina Baghdiantz McCabe, G. Harlaftis and I.P. Minoglou (eds), Diaspora Entrepreneurial Networks (New York: Berg, 2005), pp. 33 – 5. 86. De Caston: Constantinople en 1869, pp. 268– 9. 87. TPA.MA.d G:2867. 1226.Z.29/1811; TPA.MA.d, G:2960, 1234.Ca.7/1819. 88. BBK, HAT, D:1532, G:61, 1230.Z.29/1815. C¸inili Mosque U¨sku¨dar. 89. TPA.MA.d, G:5665, 1235.S.25/1820. Hacı Bekir Camii in Fındıklı. 90. BBK, I.E.HAT, D:6, G:585, 1237.Za.6/1821, repairs to Mahmud Pasha Mosque. 91. BBK, HAT, D:1569, G:27, 1242.R.3/1826. Various repairs by Krikor Kalfa. 92. BBK, HAT, D:1585, G:37, 1247.R.14/1831. A mosque next to a police station in Arnavudko¨y. 93. In 1822, building a fountain in C¸ubuklu, TPA.MA.d, G:4847, 1238.S.7/1822; in 1826, repairing the Tophane fountain, BBK, HAT, D:1569, G:27, 1242.R.3/1826; in 1831, a fountain in C¸ukur, Galata, BBK, HAT, D:1584, G:61, 1246.Z.29/1831. 94. BBK, HAT, D:593, G:29079, 1241.Z.29/1825. Building the U¨sku¨dar barracks. 95. BBK, HAT, D:1569, G:11, 1242.S.10/1826, rebuilding Mengenehane walls. 96. Tug˘lacı: The Role of the Balian Family, p. 671, ‘Document 9’, Appendix. 97. The I˙ns¸a Defteri of the Nusretiye Mosque are listed in the catalogue of the Topkapı Palace Archive, but they consist of one text referring to the appropriation of land and do not mention Krikor. TPA, D9435. 98. TPA.MA.d, G: 2867 1226.Z.29/1811. Building the imperial apartment in Pas¸akapı. 99. BBK, C.BLD. D:12, G:569, 1242.Ca.26/1826. Repairs to Osmaniye and other mausolea. 100. Senekerim Balyan, brother of Krikor, worked briefly as an imperial architect, and built the Beyazıt Fire Tower. He died in Jerusalem in 1833 on pilgrimage. Pamukciyan, Kevork, Biografileriyle Ermeniler (Istanbul: Aras, 2003), p. 99. 101. TPA.MA.d. G: 2867, 1226.Z.29/1811. Imperial apartment in Pas¸akapı. 102. TPA.MA.d, G: 2960, 1234.Ca.7/1819. Repairs to rooms of an unspecified palace. 103. TPA.MA.d, G: 5665 1235.S.25/1819. Hacı Bekir Camii. 104. TPA.MA.d, G: 4847 1238.S.7/1822. Water depot in C¸ubuklu. 105. BBK, C.SM, D:10, G:535, 1255.Z.29/1839. Building projects by Krikor Kalfa. 106. For instance, BBK, C.BLD, D:12, G:569, 1242.Ca.26/1827. Documents included in the Appendix of Tug˘lacı: The Role of the Balian Family, p. 672, also show that he was most frequently referred to as ‘Krikor Kalfa’. An imperial rescript states that the plans (resim) drawn by ‘Krikor Kalfa’ had been chosen for the Naval College and Barracks on Heybeliada. A document concerning the Selimiye barracks, ‘Document 33’, p. 681, refers to Krikor as ‘hassa mimarı izzetlu Krikor Efendi bendelerine’, BBK, C.A.T. 37510, 25 Ramazan 1246 (1831). The documents in Tug˘lacı that refer to Krikor’s tax exemptions are all dated 1835. 107. BBK, C.MF, D:90, G:4451, 1251.Ca.29/1835.
NOTES TO PAGES 35 –39
197
108. Pamukciyan: Biografileriyle Ermeniler, pp. 94 – 5. 109. BBK, HAT, D:593, G:29079, 1241.Z.29/1825, barracks in U¨sku¨dar. 110. BBK, I.DH, D:515, G:35016, 1280.R.08/1863. Salaries of Krikor Kalfa and Akif Efendi seized. Why this is dated 1863 is not clear. 111. BBK, HAT, D:251, G:14231, 1227.Z.29/1812, exemptions given to Krikor Kalfa. 112. BBK, HAT, D:796, G:36924, 1237.Z.29/1821, Krikor’s exile to Kayseri. 113. Tug˘lacı: The Role of the Balian Family, p. 677. Appendix, ‘Document 19’, BBK, H.H.29310 1243/1827-8. 114. Cezar: Sanatta Batıya Acılıs¸, p. 112. 115. Pamukciyan: Zamanlar, Mekanlar, Insanlar, p. 139; Berberyan, Avedis, Batmutyun Hayots (Bolis: Tpagrowtiun Pogosi Kirislian, 1871), p. 519. 116. Pamukciyan: Zamanlar, Mekanlar, Insanlar, p. 139; Berberyan: Batmutyun Hayots, pp. 519– 20. 117. Whittick, Arnold, Symbols, Signs and Their Meaning (London: Leonard Hill, 1960), pp. 90 –7. 118. Deringil, Selim, The Well-Protected Domains: Ideology and the Legitimation of Power in the Ottoman Empire, 1876-1909 (London and New York: I.B. Tauris, 1998), p. 35. 119. Deringil: The Well-Protected Domains, p. 35. 120. Bog˘osyan: Balyan Kertasdanı, p. 54; Masis, 1881, issue 2825. 121. Teotik: Teotik Amenun Daretsuytsi, p. 259. 122. Arzruni, Grigor, Les Arme´niens de Turquie. Leur Situation Economique (Vienna: Imprimeur-Editeur, J.C. Fischer & Cie, 1881), p. 16. 123. Thorossian, Hiranth, Histoire de la litte´rature arme´nienne, des origines jusqu’a` nos jours (Paris: Librairie des Cinq Continents, 1951), pp. 249– 51. 124. Alboyadjian: Les Dadian, p. 59. 125. De Caston: Constantinople en 1869, p. 269. 126. BBK. C.MF. D:90, G:4451, 1251.Ca.29/1835. A decree granting tax exemptions to Krikor, Ohannes (Serveryan) and Karapet. Also, BBK, HAT, D:565, G:27724, 1251.Z.29. /1835. Concerning tax privileges given to Karapet and Ohannes. Tug˘lacı: The Role of the Balian Family, p. 692, ‘Documents 75 – 77’. 127. BB.C.MF. D:90, G:4451, 1251.Ca.29/1835, concerning tax exemptions given to Karapet and Ohannes. Tug˘lacı: The Role of the Balian Family, p. 693, ‘Document 77’. 128. BBK, A)DVN.MHM, D:28, G:95, 1276.S./1859, Mecidiye Decoration and rank awarded to Karapet. 129. Ibid. 130. BBK, HH.d.12192, 1278.L.25/ 1862, notebook of estimates for the Yıldız Pavilion. 131. BBK. A)MKT.NZD, D:72, G:24, 1269.Ca.03/1853, dues owed to Karapet. 132. BBK, C.SM. D:71, G:3553, 1265.C.17/1849, porphyry columns delivered to the Bes¸iktas¸ Palace. 133. BBK, A)DVN.MHM. D:28, G:95, 1276.S/1859, giving of a decoration to Karapet, Serkis and Agop. 134. BBK, HAT, D:566, G:27724, 1251.Z.29/1835, tax privileges of Karapet and Ohannes. 135. BBK, C.IKTS, D:33, G:1637, 1259.Ra.27/1843, Karapet’s salary for the Izmit Broadcloth Factory. 136. Intartzag Oratzuytz Surp Pırgic Azkain Hivantanotzi 1900 – 1910 (Istanbul: Surp Pırgic Ermeni Hastanesi Vakfı Ku¨ltu¨r Yayınları, 2012), year 1900, p. 41. 137. Gautier, The´ophile, Constantinople of To-day (1854) by The´ophile Gautier, trans. Robert Howe Gould (London: David Bogue, 1856), p. 300. 138. Gautier: Constantinople, pp. 300–3. 139. Ibid., pp. 301– 2. 140. Bunel, Louis, Je´rusalem, La Cote de Syrie et Constantinople en 1853 (Paris: Sangnier et Bray, 1854/Elibron Classics, 2005), p. 376. It seems likely that Bunel, like Gautier, would have met the Balyans. 141. De Caston: Constantinople en 1869, p. 269. 142. De Morgan: Histoire du Peuple Arme´nien, p. 263. 143. BBK. I.DH., D:567, G:39511, 1284.C.09/1867, Karapet’s heirs’ inheritance. 144. BBK. A)DVN, D:134, G:62, 1275.S.04/1858, the debts owed to Nigog˘os.
198 145. 146. 147. 148. 149. 150. 151. 152. 153. 154. 155. 156. 157. 158. 159. 160. 161. 162. 163. 164. 165. 166. 167. 168. 169. 170. 171. 172. 173. 174.
175. 176.
NOTES TO PAGES 39 – 44 BBK. ZB. D:2, G:92, 1286.Ra.22/1869, financing for C¸ırag˘an Palace. Teotik: Teotik Amenun Daretsuytsi, pp. 261–4. Ibid., pp. 261– 4. Carmont, Pascal, Les Amiras, Seigneurs de l’Arme´nie Ottomane (Paris: Editions Salvator, 1999). De Caston: Constantinople en 1869, p. 270. Ibid., p. 267. BBK. I.HR. D:170, G:9210, 1276.M.26/1859, Karapet, Serkis and Agop are awarded the Mecidiye Medal. Also, BBK.A)DVN, D:28, G:95, 1276.S/1859. BBK. I.DH. D:640, G:44505, 1288.S¸.08/1871, reassignment of Agop’s salary. BBK. MV. D:24, G:5, 1304.Z.19/1886, the Ayazag˘a Imperial Pavilion. BBK, A)MKT.MHM, D:494, G:48, 1304.Z.29/1886, the Ayazag˘a Pavilion. Bog˘osyan: Balyan Kertasdanı, p. 178. Teotik: Teotik Amenun Daretsuytsi, p. 264. Ibid., p. 264. Le Monde Illustre´, 21 August 1875, p. 125. De Caston, Alfred, Musulmans Et Chre´tiens, La Turquie En 1873 Et 1874. Par Le Vte Alfred De Caston, Membre de la Socie´te´ des Gens de Lettres. Livre II (Constantinople: Imprimerie et Lithographie Centrales, 1874), p. 502. De Caston: Musulmans Et Chre´tiens, pp. 502– 3. Ibid., p. 503. Ibid., p. 543. De Caston: ‘Le Grand Mouvement Architectural’. Ersoy, Ahmet, ‘On the Sources of the “Ottoman Renaissance”: Architectural Revival and its Discourse During the Abdu¨laziz Era (1861 – 76)’ (PhD dissertation, Harvard, 2000), p. 371; De Caston: ‘Le Grand Mouvement Architectural’, p. 418, Ersoy’s translation from the French. BBK, I.DH, D:564, G:39273, 1284.S.08/1867, giving the rank of ula to Serkis. The first document is BBK, I.DH, D:650, G:45215, 1289.R.19/1872 and the second is BBK, I. DH, D:650, G:45220, 1289.Ra.17/1872. Both are in Tug˘lacı: The Role of the Balian Family, p. 712, ‘Document 121’ and ‘Document 121/A’. For instance, Diyarbakır Bu¨yu¨ks¸ehir Belediyesi, Diyarbakır Salnameleri, birinci cilt, 1286– 1323 (1869 – 1905) (Istanbul: Acar Matbaası, 1999), vol. 1, p. 39, ‘Bu¨yu¨k Ku¨cu¨k Tarafından Bir Du¨ziye Yazılan Elkab-ı Resmiye’. Diyarbakır Salnameleri, p. 98. BBK, I.HR., D:257, G:15321, 1289.S¸.16/1872, decoration sent from the Austrian Emperor. BBK. HR.TO D:165, G:21, 1872.10.08. This can be seen as a transcription in Tug˘lacı: The Role of the Balian Family, p. 712, ‘Document 122’. BBK, I.DH, D:691, G:48320, 1291.N.11/1874, the awarding of a decoration to Serkis and Ayvazovski; BBK. I.DH. D:694, G:48568, 1291.Z.26/1874, decoration awarded to Serkis Bey. Tug˘lacı: The Role of the Balian Family, p. 719, ‘Document 127’. Tug˘lacı: The Role of the Balian Family, p. 720, ‘Document 128’ (BBK, I.DH.62375, 27 Rebiu¨levvel 1295/31 March 1878). BBK, A)MKT.MVL, D:67, G:97, 1271.M.09/1854, the construction of the coastal home of Moralı Celal Bey. BBK, HHd. G:11629 (no date), goods purchased with the mediation of Karapet Kalfa for the C¸ırag˘an Palace. ‘Yıldız Kasrı-ı Hu¨mayun Ebniye-i Alisi haricinde bulunan teferuatın ins¸a ve tamiri Karapet Kalfa marifetiyle hitam’a res oldug˘undan muayene ve mesaha olunarak tanzım ve terkim olunmasıyle kes¸fe defteri.’ BBK. HHd. 12192, 1278.L.25/1862, notebook of estimates for projects around the Yıldız Pavilion. BBK, HHd. 15181, 1271/1854, Tes¸vikiye Mosque. BBK.C.IKTS. D:33, G:1637, 1259.Ra.27/1843, Izmit Broadcloth Factory.
NOTES TO PAGES 44 – 47
199
177. ‘Karapet Kalfa kulları tarafından istid’a-yı inayet bulunmus¸ oldug˘u beyanıyla ebniye-i merkumenin tekrar bil kes¸fe ıcabının icrası hususu inha olunmakdan nas¸i kuyuyda mu¨racaat.’ Tug˘lacı: The Role of the Balian Family, p. 707, ‘Document 110’, BBK. CAS. D:1011, G:44296, 1266.L.29/1850, writ concerning the Engineering School. 178. ‘Ebniye-i Hu¨mayun Kalfası Karapet ile Istefan Kalfa yedlerine canıb hazine celilesi’nden bas¸ka bas¸ka sergi pusulaları ita olunup divan merkure’nin ceste ceste hazinece tediye.’ BBK, I.D.H. D:304, G:19254, 1270.L.10/1854, delivery of the building salaries for the Ortako¨y and Dolmabahce mosques. Tug˘lacı: The Role of the Balian Family, p. 697, ‘Document 82’. 179. BBK, MAD.d. G:10536. 24.C.1271/1855, the salaries for the Dolmabahce and Ortako¨y mosques. 180. BBK, I.DH. D:444, G:29339, 1276.Ra.09/1859, delivery of building salaries to tradesmen. 181. BBK, A)MKT.NZD. D:72, G:24, 1269.Ca.03/1853, concerning money owed to Karapet along with his assistant architect and Sarraf Abraham. 182. For instance, BBK.A)MKT.MHM, D:14, G:74, 1265.S¸.02/1849, credit given to Karapet. 183. BBK, HR.TO, D:436, G:39, 1861.2.13, petition of Keresteci Kurdog˘lu. 184. BBK, HR.TO, D:438, G:78, 1861.11.30, reply to petition of Keresteci Kurdog˘lu. 185. BBK, HR.TO, D:438, G:78, 1861.11.30. ‘That Mr. Carabet Calfa being an employee of the Government ... should defer to imperial authority which does not depend on him for change; That Mr. Carabet Calfa submitted himself as such to the Sublime Porte and the provision of law [and] the statements given by the Ministry of Finance for the payment of the “Poussoula” owned by Mr. Kirestedji; that the Sieur Carabet Calfa has a security in every form from the door of the Imperial Government; That the Sieur Carabet Calfa was never personally obligated to pay the amount due to A. Agop Kirestedji by the Stewardship of Imperial buildings; That Mr. Kurd-oglu has no binding document from Carabet Calfa; And consider finally that Carabet Calfa has not acted in this affair except as a mere intermediary, and is not in any direct or indirect manner a debtor of Mr. Kurd-oglu.’ 186. Necipog˘lu, Gu¨lru, ‘Creation of a National Genius: Sinan and the Historiography of ‘Classical’ Ottoman Architecture’ Muqarnas, vol. 24 (2007), p. 146. 187. BBK, Y.A. RES, D:9, G:27, 1298.S.02/1881, proposal for school of arts and industry. 188. BBK, HR.TO, D:449, G:78, 1868.01.25, memo by Serkis concerning a concession for building coastal homes. 189. Go¨ncu¨, Cengiz, ‘Beylerbeyi Sarayı’nın Ins¸a Su¨reci, Tes¸kilatı ve Kullanımı’ (MA dissertation, Istanbul University, 2006), p. 27 (cites BBK.HH.EBA, 2/10; 2/30). ¨ retiminde Modernles¸me ve Taahu¨t Sisteminin Olus¸umu’ (PhD 190. S¸enyurt, Oya, ‘Tu¨rkiye’de Yapı U disseration, Yıldız Technical University, 2006), p. 256 (cites BBK, Y.PRK.SGE, D:3, G:69, 6. Z.1307/23.7.1890). 191. ‘C¸ırag˘an Sahilsarayı Hu¨mayunu ebniye aliyesi misillu miri mumaileyh canibinden ve nezareti uhdesinde oldug˘u halde kendu tarafından memuru mahsus tayini ile ins¸aata mu¨bas¸eret olunmus¸.’ Tug˘lacı: The Role of the Balian Family, p. 720, ‘Document 133’ (BBK, I.DH. 45246 6 Rebiu¨levvel 1289/14 May 1872). 192. Tug˘lacı: The Role of the Balian Family, p. 724, ‘Document 138/B’. From the series of 18 documents concerning the Valide Mosque in a private collection, this one is dated 18 Cemaziu¨levvel 1286/1869. 193. BBK, Y.PRK., HH. D:8, G:8, 1298.C.06/1881, estimates for pavilion in Yıldız Palace gardens. 194. BBK, Y.PRK.HH, D:4, G:58, 1296.R.18/1879, the amount owed to Serkis for building works under Abdu¨laziz. 195. BBK, Y.PRK.KOM. D:3, G:73, 1299.Z.25/1882, investigation into building works by Serkis. 196. BBK, Y.PRK.KOM. D:3, G:73, 1299.Z.25/1882. 197. ‘Cennet mekan Sultan Abdu¨laziz Han hazretlerinin zamanı sultanatlarında sudur ettig˘i kayda anlas¸ılan irade-i seniyye hu¨ku¨metce umuru ins¸asiyesi bir vec maktu’ Serkis Bey kollarına ihale olunup . . . Bes¸iktas¸’ta Acı C¸es¸medeki seksen iki babhane ebniyesinin masrafı maktu’ ins¸asiyesinin miktarı.’ BBK, Y.PRK.AZJ, D:1, G:41, 1293.L.25/1876, dealing with the payment for building works which had been contracted to Serkis.
200
NOTES TO PAGES 47 –56
198. BBK, HH, D:3, G:21, 1295.B.22/1878, second estimates for buildings added to Yıldız Palace. 199. BBK, PRK. ASK, D:57, G:64, 1307.M.22/1889, building salaries for two palaces at Ortako¨y, Defterdarburnu. 200. BBK.HR.TO, D:205, G:20, 1878.8.24. The protest of Aristo Tobni. 201. BBK, HR.TO, D:464, G:57, 1878.9.8. Money owed to Savriyo Kalfa and Maillard. 202. BBK, A.MKT.NZD, D:281, G:51, 1275.L.12/1859, Karapet’s payment for the Bes¸iktas¸ Palace. 203. Barsoumian: The Armenian Amira, p. 14; Burton Page, J., ‘Khwadja’, Encyclopaedia of Islam, vol. 4, 2nd edn (EI-2), E. van Donzel, B. Lewis and C. Pellat (ed) (Leiden: Brill, 1978), p. 907; Orhonlu, Cengiz, ‘Khwadjegan-i Divan-i Hu¨mayun’, Encyclopaedia of Islam, vol. 4, 2nd edn (EI-2), E. van Donzel, B. Lewis and C. Pellat (ed) (Leiden: Brill, 1978), pp. 908– 9. 204. BBK, A)MKT.MHM. D:54, G:73, 1269.B.01/1852, money owed by Mıgırdic to Karapet Kalfa. 205. Kabadayı, Mustafa Erdem, ‘Mkrdich Cezayirliyan Or The Sharp Rise And Sudden Fall Of An Ottoman Entrepreneur’, in Suraiya Faroqui and Gilles Veinstein (eds), Merchants in the Ottoman Empire (Paris, Louvain, Dudley, MA: Peeters, 2008), p. 298. 206. BBK.I.DH. D:558, G:38819, 1283.S¸.29/1867, reassignment of Karapet’s salary. 207. Bezirgan and Saatci possessed a long-held status within the palace hierarchy, gaining importance since the increase in international trade from the reign of Su¨leyman, as their regular notebooks held in the Topkapı dating 1580 until 1863 indicate. They experienced a boom in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Topkapı Ars¸ivi, Bezirganbas¸ı, alınan es¸yaya ve bedellerine dair. TPA, No. E.3018, No. D 308-321-2830-6267-7788-7950-10286. Dated 1585 –1863 (993 – 1280). 208. BBK. I.DH. D:558. G:38820, 1283.S¸.29/1867, reassignment of Karapet’s salary. 209. BBK, HHd.2754, date 1310.S¸.24-1311.N.05/1893, notebook of Serkurena in ‘Mabeyn, Darphane ve Hazine-i Hassa Nezareti Defterleri’. 210. BBK. MADd.10627, 29.Z.1286/1869. 211. BBK, MAD.d.11316, 9.C.1295/1878. 212. BBK, MAD,d, 11469, 01.S¸.1305/1888. 213. BBK, YA.RES D:9, G:27, 1298.S.02/ 1881. 214. Der Matossian, Bedros, ‘The Armenian Commercial Houses and Merchant Networks in the Nineteenth-Century Ottoman Empire’, Turcica, vol. 39 (2007), pp. 147–74. 215. Ahmet Ersoy suggests ‘zat’ is ‘black’ meaning African, but this sounds anachronistic, I preferred in my translation to view it as referring to ‘those things that are considered’ (eastern and arab etc.). Ersoy, Ahmet, ‘Serkis Bey’s Dream: An Alternative House of Sciences And The Fall of The Traditional Builder’, in Hasan Kuruyazıcı (ed.), Armenian Architects of Istanbul in the Era of Westernization (Istanbul: International Hrant Dink Foundation Publications, 2010), p. 65. 216. Arzruni: Les Arme´niens de Turquie, p. 16. 217. Tug˘lacı: The Role of the Balian Family, p. 528. 218. Eldem, Edhem, ‘Quelques lettres d’Osman Hamdi Bey a` son pe`re lors de son se´jour en Irak (1869 – 1870)’, Anatolia Moderna – Yeni Anadolu, I(1) (1991), pp. 115– 36; Shaw, Wendy M.K., ‘The Paintings of Osman Hamdi and the Subversion of Orientalist Vision’, in C¸ig˘dem Kafesciog˘lu and Lucienne Thys S¸enocak (eds), Aptullah Kuran I˙cin Yazılar/Essays in Honour of Aptullah Kuran (Istanbul: Yapı Kredi, 1999), pp. 423– 35. 219. BBK, HH.SAID, D: 01, G:0096. 220. S¸enyurt: Osmanlı Mimarlık, p. 193 (cites BBK. Y.MTV. D:269, G:76).
Chapter 3
Karapet Balyan as an Amira and his Role in the Mobilization of the Armenian Community of Constantinople
1. Sevadjian, Marie, L’Amira, Traduit de l’Arme´nien Par Fre´de´ric Macler (Paris: Librairie Ernest Leroux, 1927/1907), pp. 7– 9. ‘He´rotik Amira remained in his office. He was a sarraf (banker), one of the richest Armenians of Constantinople. His wealth gave him great influence that he used for the benefit
NOTES TO PAGES 56 – 60
2. 3.
4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11.
12. 13. 14. 15.
16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24.
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of his nation and he was very much loved. There were 12 sarrafs, all Armenians, from Akn [Akn was a region of the Ottoman Empire and the birthplace of many sarrafs]. The Ottoman government officially recognized them as bankers, and they formed an unofficial council, of which He´rotik Amira was president. The sultan gave them the title of Amira. They had a distinctive tug˘ra (monogram), worn on their astrakhan caps. They did not wear the fez. The negotiator’s distinctive sign was a black censor worn on their hats.’ Tug˘lacı, Pars, The Role of the Balian Family in Ottoman Architecture (Istanbul: Yeni C¸ıg˘ır, 1990), p. 88. On Deroyentz (1801– 88), see: Hacikiyan, Agop J., et al., The Heritage of Armenian Literature, vol. III. From the 18th Century to Modern Times (Detroit: Wayne State, 2005), p. 223; Thorossian, Hiranth, Histoire de la litte´rature arme´nienne, des origines jusqu’a` nos jours (Paris: Librairie des Cinq Continents, 1951), pp. 255– 7. Tug˘lacı: The Role of the Balian Family, p. 88. Ibid., p. 91. Alboyadjian, Archag, Les Dadian, translation by Anna Naguib Boutros-Ghali (Cairo, 1965), p. 51. Thorossian: Histoire de la litte´rature arme´nienne, pp. 271– 2. This was Deroyentz’s other name. Ubicini, A., Letters on Turkey: an account of the religious, political, social and commercial condition of the Ottoman Empire, translated by Lady Easthope (London: John Murray, 1856), Letter VI, pp. 307 – 8. The Arabyan Matbaası mainly printed religious works, for example those of Deroyentz and Pes¸timalcıyan, as well as the tales of Nasrettin Hodja. Stepanyan, Hasmik A., Ermeni Harfli Tu¨rkce Kitaplar ve Su¨reli Yayınlar Bibliyografyası (Istanbul: Turkuaz, 2005). Hacikiyan states that as the result of their contact with foreign cultures Armenian communities in the diaspora (Amsterdam, Venice, Poland, Ukraine, India) were influenced by western ideas, political theories and revolutionary concepts and established printing presses. This revitalized cultural life and began the struggle for an autonomous homeland. Hacikiyan: The Heritage of Armenian Literature, p. 43. Father Zekiyan focuses on the development of ‘Armenian humanism’ under the Mekhitarists of Venice. Zekiyan, Bog˘os Levon, Ermeniler ve Modernite (Istanbul: Aras, 2002). Barsoumian, Hagop Levon, ‘The Eastern Question and the Tanzimat Era’ in Richard Hovannisian (ed.), The Armenian People from Ancient to Modern Times (Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1997), vol. 2, p. 196. Alboyadjian: Les Dadian, p. 43. BBK, DH.MKT. D:1607, G:66. 1306.B.18/1888; DH. ID. D:112-1, G:19, 1331.B.24/1913. This rift was caused by the funding of the school by banker amiras, whose power declined, following which the Patriarch changed his allegiance to support the esnaf. Artinian, Vartan, The Armenian constitutional system in the Ottoman Empire, 1839–1863: a study of its historical development (Istanbul: Isis Press, 1988), p. 54. Arpee states that the power of the imperial architects Karapet and Serveryan waned and jealous banker amiras decided to use this opportunity to ruin their project, convincing the Jerusalem Patriarchate to drop its funding. Arpee, Leon, The Armenian Awakening (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1909), p. 175. Artinian: The Armenian Constitutional System, p. 56. Ibid. Ku¨rkman, Garo, Osmanlı I˙mparatorlug˘unda Ermeni Ressamlar 1600 –1923 (Istanbul: Matusalem Yayınları, 2004), vol. 1, pp. 109– 10. For instance, the painter Viktorya Hovhannes Agopoff. Pamukciyan, Kevork, Zamanlar, Mekanlar, Insanlar, vol. III (Istanbul: Aras, 2003), pp. 137– 40. Pamukciyan: Zamanlar, Mekanlar, Insanlar, p. 138 (Pamukciyan cites ‘Ag˘ayekyan: Gensaveb, pp. 215– 18’). Ubicini: Letters on Turkey, Letter VI, p. 316. ‘Signor Speranza’/‘Mr Hope’. Ku¨rkman: Osmanlı I˙mparatorlug˘unda Ermeni Ressamlar, vol. 1, p. 230. Ibid., vol. 1, pp. 227– 8. De Nerval, Ge´rard, Voyage en Orient (Paris: Charpentier Libraire-Editeur, 1851), vol. 2, pp. 217–8. The Balyan Family rebuilt the Surp Hac Church in Kuruces¸me and Serkis Balyan lived in the area. Tug˘lacı, Pars, Istanbul Ermeni Kiliseleri [Armenian Churches of Istanbul] (Istanbul: Pars Yayın, 1991),
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25. 26.
27. 28.
29. 30. 31. 32. 33.
34. 35. 36.
37. 38. 39. 40. 41.
NOTES TO PAGES 60 – 63 pp. 131– 3. The Du¨zyans also lived there and the family mentioned is most likely to have been them, especially since Nerval relates that one member was named Bog˘os. The information given by the present occupant of the site, the Austrian Summer Consulate (the property was given to the Kaiser after the downfall of Mıgırdic) is that the architect was Serkis Balyan. Galland trained as a metalworker, as an architect under Henri Labrouste, as a decorative artist under Michel Martin Drolling and worked for the theatre painter Pierre-Luc Charles Ciceri in 1843. Charles Se´chan, who worked on the Dolmabahce Palace, had also trained with Ciceri. Galland made cartoons for Gobelins from 1854, in 1873 established a course at the E´cole des Beaux Arts on decorative arts, and played a role in the development of Art Nouveau. Cerrano, Je´re´my (ed), La Composition De´corative: Pierre-Victor Galland: Un Tiepolo Francais Au XIXe Sie`cle (Paris: Somogy, Piscine-Muse´e d’art et d’industrie, Muse´e de´partemental de l’Oise, 2006). Saint-Laurent, Beatrice, ‘Ottomanization and Modernization. The Architectural and Urban Development of Bursa and the Genesis of Tradition, 1839– 1914’ (PhD dissertation, Harvard, 1989), p. 179. Melik was born in 1817 in Ottoman – Turkey and was a student of Labrouste, he graduated from the E´cole des Beaux Arts in 1840 (No.1146). The´re`se, Louis, and Penanrun, David, Les Architectes Ele`ves de L’E´cole des Beaux Arts 1793– 1907 (Paris: Imprimerie Chaix, 1895/1907), p. 106. One document states that Mimar Mo¨syo¨ Melik and Mo¨syo¨ Pier Duran were responsible for building the Ottoman section for the 1855– 6 Exposition. HR.TO, Sira: 166, D:419, G:28, 1855.04.14. This may be the same Mo¨syo¨ Pier who worked on the Balyans’ palaces. BBK, A)MKT.NZD, D:105, G:21, 1270.Ra.15/1854. The document concerns Melik building the coastal home of Mıgırdic. Alfred de Caston notes how Galland had recommended that he stay in the Hotel de Luxembourg in Pera, recently redecorated by Le´on Parville´e. De Caston, Alfred, Constantinople en 1869, histoire des hommes et des choses par A. de Caston (Paris: J. Kugelmann, 1868), p. 295. Ku¨rkman: Osmanlı I˙mparatorlug˘unda Ermeni Ressamlar, vol. 1, pp. 245– 6. Smith, Anthony D., The Nation Made Real. Art and National Identity in Western Europe 1600– 1850 (Oxford: OUP, 2013). It was only later that these Armenian painters took up subjects such as Ottoman naval victories, such as Behzad’s The Battle of Preveza (1866). This was part of the promotion of Ottomanism under Abdu¨laziz but can also be seen as a continuation of these Armenians’ earlier commitment to the local Ottoman order. Taft, Robert F., S.J., ‘The Armenian Liturgy. Its Origins and Characteristics’ in T.F. Mathews and Roger S. Wieck (eds), Treasures in Heaven. Armenian Art, Religion and Society (NY: Pierpont Morgan Library, 1998), p. 13. Abrahamian, Levon, Armenian Identity in a Changing World (California: Mazda, 2006), p. 115. Financed by merchants, Armenians of Aleppo constructed the Church of the Forty Martyrs in 1616 to house the Catholicos of Sis. Simyon of Poland states that 40,000 kurus¸ were given to the Catholicos to buy gifts to present to government officials. Masters, Bruce, Christians and Jews in the Ottoman Arab World: The Roots of Sectarianism (Cambridge: CUP, 2001), p. 71. Hobsbawm, Eric, Nations and Nationalism since 1780 (Cambridge: CUP, 1992), pp. 69 – 70. Maranci, Christina, Medieval Armenian Architecture. Constructions of Race and Nation (Leuven: Peeters, 2001), p. 86. Halajian calls this neoclassical but I prefer to call it historicism because of its reference to Armenian medieval architecture. Halajian, John, Armenian Church Architecture. From Dormancy to Revival (Mustang, OK: Tate Publishing, 2006). Novello, Adriano Alpago, ‘Armenian Architecture from East to West’, in Adriano Alpago Novello et al. (eds), The Armenians (New York: Rizzoli, 1986), p. 191. Hovhannesyan, Sarraf Sarkis, Istanbul’un Payitaht Tarihcesi (Istanbul: Tarih Vakfı Yurt Yayınları, 1800/1996), pp. 41 – 2. Surp Krikor Lusavoric Church in Eg˘ri Kapı dating from 1436 was rebuilt in 1731 in wood, with brick walls.
NOTES TO PAGES 63 –66
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42. Tug˘lacı: Istanbul Ermeni Kiliseleri, p. 162. Tug˘lacı notes that a manuscript states that the church was built in 1360 (other sources mention 1361 and 1391). Lora Baytar states that the original church dated to 1431, was demolished in the 1950s and rebuilt with a new structure in 1965 by Bedros Zobian. Baytar, Lora, ‘A Structure By A Contemporary Armenian Architect That Connects Westernizing Istanbul To The Middle Ages’ in Hasan Kuruyazıcı (ed.), Armenian Architects of Istanbul In The Era of Westernization (Istanbul: International Hrant Dink Foundation Publications, 2010), ¨ nver Ru¨stem wisely pointed out to me, this rebuild must have stuck to pp. 106– 16. As my friend U the earlier model, given the difficult circumstances of the 1950s and 1960s. Indeed Baytar gives limited evidence for Zobian’s authorship of the design in her article. 43. BBK, HAT 0775/36355. This document concerns the rebuilding of Surp Hac, in I˙cadiye ¨ sku¨dar, in 1829. Neighborhood, U 44. BBK, I.HR, D:182, G:10119, 1277.S.10/1860-1; BBK, I.HR, D:226, G:13265, 1284.R.24/1867. 45. Inscriptions note that the rebuild costs in 1861 were met by Bedros Aga Shaldjian. Both dates of 1835 and 1861 are given. Ubicini states: ‘at Kouzhoundjouk, built under the reign of Sultan Mahmoud, by M. Carabid, the father of the present architect of the imperial palace’. Ubicini: Letters on Turkey, Letter VI, p. 302. 46. Jeni, Giulio, ‘Architectural Typologies’, in Novello et al. (eds), The Armenians (New York: Rizzoli, 1986). 47. Tug˘lacı: The Role of the Balian Family, p. 282. 48. Hancer, Elmon, ‘New Typology in Nineteenth Century Istanbul Armenian Religious Architecture: Domed Churches and Bell Towers’, in Hasan Kuruyazıcı (ed.), Armenian Architects of Istanbul in the Era of Westernization (Istanbul: International Hrant Dink Foundation Publications, 2010), p. 83. 49. Cormack, Robin, ‘Introduction: Armenian Art from a Byzantine Perspective’, in Vrej Nersessian (ed.), Treasures from the Ark. 1700 Years of Armenian Christian Art (London: British Library, Manoukian Foundation, 2001), p. 12. Some groups, such as the Paulicians, were iconoclastic. Religious art went through periods when it flourished, such as under the Bagratids and Arzrunis, which were facilitated by periods of peace otherwise rare in Armenian history. Kochakian, Father Garabed, Art in the Armenian Church (New York: St Vartan Press, 1995), p. 13; Nersessian, Sirarpie Der, ‘Image Worship in Armenia and its Opponents’, The Armenian Quarterly, 1 (1) (Spring, 1946), p. 69. 50. Eftekharian (Laporte), Sarah, ‘Le rayonnement international des gravures flamandes aux XVIe et XVIIe sie`cles: les peintures murales des e´glises Sainte-Bethle´em et Saint-Sauveur a` la NouvelleDjoulfa’ (PhD dissertation, Universite´ Libre De Bruxelles, 2006). 51. Burckhardt, Jacob, The Architecture of the Italian Renaissance (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1985), pp. 251–7, on the use of stucco during the Renaissance. I thank Abdallah Kahil for pointing out to me this church’s close relationship to Renaissance interiors. 52. Marchese, Ronald T. and Breu, Marlene R., Splendor & Pageantry. Textile Treasures from the Armenian Orthodox Churches of Istanbul (Istanbul: C¸itlembik Film Video Yapım C¸eviri, Armenian Patriarchate of Istanbul, 2010), pp. 204– 5. 53. Van Lint, Theo Maarten, ‘Symbolic Thought in Armenian History’, in Gabrielle Uluhogian, Boghos Levon Zekiyan and Vartan Karapetian (eds), Armenian Imprints of a Civilization (Milan: Skira, 2011), pp. 168– 9. 54. Marchese and Breu: Splendor & Pageantry, pp. 237– 8. 55. Ibid., p. 211. 56. Tug˘lacı: The Role of the Balian Family, p. 295. 57. Marchese and Breu: Splendor & Pageantry, p. 197. 58. Ibid., p. 232. 59. Magdi Guirguis drew attention to how pious endowments were established and patronage was given to the arts in Ottoman Egypt by Coptic patrons, echoing the activities of the Mamluk ruling elite. Guirguis, Magdi, An Armenian Artist in Ottoman Egypt. Yuhanna Al-Armani and his Coptic Icons (Cairo: AUC Press, 2008), p. 43. 60. Russell, James R., ‘Truth is What the Eye Can See. Armenian Manuscripts and Armenian Spirituality’, in T.F. Mathews and Roger S. Wieck (eds), Treasures in Heaven. Armenian Art, Religion and Society (NY: Pierpont Morgan Library, 1998), p. 149. As Benedict Anderson stated: ‘All the great
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61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67. 68. 69. 70. 71. 72. 73. 74. 75. 76. 77.
78. 79.
80. 81. 82. 83.
NOTES TO PAGES 66 –76
classical communities conceived of themselves as cosmically central, through the medium of sacred language linked to a super terrestrial order of power’. Anderson, Benedict, Imagined Communities. Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism (New York: Verso, 1983), p. 13. Nersessian: Treasures from the Ark, p. 113. Nersessian has published models of Armenian churches carved in stone and donor portraits. Libaridian, Gerard J., Modern Armenia. People, Nation and State (New Jersey: Transaction Publishers, 2004), cites Deroyentz in Erevak (Bolis) 1861, issue 109. Tug˘lacı: Istanbul Ermeni Kiliseleri, p. 127– 30. Tug˘lacı: The Role of the Balian Family, p. 292. Ibid., p. 295. Ibid., p. 433. BBK, A.MKT.NZD, D:213, G:44, 1273.C.15/1856. This document concerns the vakıf of the Bes¸iktas¸ Church in I˙cadiye, U¨sku¨dar. Tug˘lacı refers to two documents from the Patriarchate Archive (TEPA). Tug˘lacı: The Role of the Balian Family, p. 696, ‘Document 79’ and ‘Document 80’. Ag˘ır, Aygu¨l, ‘Balyan Ailesi’nin Mimarlıg˘ı’nda Palladio I˙zleri’, EJOS (Proceedings of the 11th International Congress of Turkish Art Utrecht, 23 – 28 August 1999), IV/3 (2001) No.3, pp. 1– 24. Alboyadjian: Les Dadian, p. 49. Arpee: The Armenian Awakening, p. 99, states that the imperial architects ‘bitterly opposed . . . persons or ideas in any way associated with the missionaries’. Ko¨ker, Osman, 100 Yıl O¨nce Ermeniler (Istanbul: Birzamanlar Yayıncılık, 2005), pp. 282– 3. Hovhannesyan: Istanbul’un Payitaht Tarihcesi, pp. 24– 25: ‘padis¸ahın musaadesiyle kilise eskisinden u¨c kat daha bu¨yu¨k ve go¨steris¸li bir bicimde ins¸a edilmis¸tir’. Hovhannesyan: Istanbul’un Payitaht Tarihcesi, p. 24. Ko¨ker: 100 Yıl O¨nce Ermeniler, pp. 124– 5. A postcard shows the Armas¸ Monastery, now destroyed. Babaie, Susan, Babayan, Kathryn, Baghdiantz McCabe, Ina and Farhad, Massumeh, Slaves of the Shah. The New Elites of Safavid Iran (London and New York: IB Tauris, 2004), p. 12. Babaie et al.: Slaves of the Shah, p. 12. Landau, Amy, ‘From the Workshops of New Julfa to the Court of Tsar Aleksei Mikhailovich: An Initial Look at Armenian Networks and the Mobility of Visual Culture’, in Venetia Porter and Mariam Rosser-Owen (eds), Metalwork and Material Culture in the Islamic World. Art, Craft and Text. Essays Presented to James W. Allan (London and New York: IB Tauris, 2012), pp. 413– 26. Jones, Lynn, Between Islam and Byzantium. Aght’amar and the Visual Construction of Medieval Armenian Rulership (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2007), p. 61. Social capital: ‘the aggregate of the actual or potential resources which are linked to possession of a durable network of more or less institutionalized relationships of mutual acquaintance or recognition’; it is: ‘made up of social obligations (“connections”), which [are] convertible, in certain conditions, into economic capital and may be institutionalized in the form of a title of nobility’. Bourdieu, Pierre, ‘The Forms of Capital’, in J. Richardson (ed.), Handbook of Theory and Research for the Sociology of Education (New York: Greenwood, 1988), pp. 241–58. Armenians of New Julfa built churches for their workers. Zekiyan: Ermeniler Ve Modernite, p. 333. Libaridian: Modern Armenia, p. 54. Ubicini: Letters on Turkey, Letter VI, p. 303. Sevadjian: L’Amira, pp. 24 – 5. ‘Among the people it is said of him that he’s the king of the Armenians’.
Chapter 4
The Balyan Family, Paris and the Birth of the Armenian – Ottoman Romantic Era
1. Ubicini, A., Letters on Turkey: an account of the religious, political, social and commercial condition of the Ottoman Empire, translated by Lady Easthope (London: John Murray, 1856), Letter VI, p. 306.
NOTES TO PAGES 76 –78
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2. Dadyan, Prince Mek.B., ‘La Socie´te´ Arme´nienne Contemporaine. Les Arme´niens De L’Empire Ottoman’, Revue des Deux Mondes, T.69 (Paris: A. Franck, 1867), pp. 45 – 6. 3. Thorossian, Hiranth, Histoire de la litte´rature arme´nienne, des origines jusqu’a` nos jours (Paris: Librairie des Cinq Continents, 1951), pp. 249– 51. 4. Mardin, S¸erif, ‘Super-Westernization in Urban Life in the Ottoman Empire in the Last Quarter of the Nineteenth Century’, in Peter Benedict et al. (eds), Turkey Geographical and Social Perspectives (Leiden: Brill, 1974). 5. Oshagan, Vahe´, ‘Modern Armenian Literature’, in Richard G. Hovannisian (ed.), The Armenian People From Ancient to Modern Times (Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1997), vol. II, pp. 156– 7. 6. Hacikiyan, Agop J., et al. (eds), The Heritage of Armenian Literature. Volume III From the 18th Century to Modern Times (Detroit: Wayne State, 2005), p. 43. 7. Zekiyan, Bog˘os Levon, Ermeniler ve Modernite (Istanbul: Aras, 2002), p. 34. 8. Bergdoll, Barry, European Architecture 1750– 1890 (Oxford: OUP, 2000), p. 173. 9. Barringer, Tim and Rosenfeld, Jason, ‘Victorian Avant-Garde’, in Tim Barringer, Jason Rosenfeld and Alison Smith (eds), Pre-Raphaelites, Victorian Avant-Garde (London: Tate Publishing, 2012). 10. Morrow, John, ‘Romanticism and Political Thought in the Early Nineteenth Century’, in Gareth Stedman Jones and Gregory Claeys (eds), Cambridge History of Nineteenth-Century Political Thought (Cambridge: CUP, 2011), pp. 39 – 76. 11. Tug˘lacı, Pars, The Role of the Balian Family in Ottoman Architecture (Istanbul: Yeni C¸ıg˘ır, 1990), p. 303. ‘In Paris, he [Nigog˘os] studied architecture at Sainte-Barbe, graduating in 1845.’ 12. Tug˘lacı: The Role of the Balian Family, p. 429. Serkis attended ‘advanced courses’ at the E´cole Centrale and graduated from the Beaux-Arts. 13. Ag˘ır, Aygu¨l, ‘Balyanlar’ın Eg˘itimleri U¨zerine Notlar’, in Aygu¨l Ag˘ır, Deniz Mazlum and Gu¨l Cephanecigil (eds), Afife Batur’a Armag˘an. Mimarlık ve Sanat Tarihi Yazıları (Istanbul: Literatu¨r, 2005), pp. 65 – 71. Articles on Selman Can’s work refer to the findings of Ag˘ır as proof that the Balyans were just contractors: Demircan, Habibe, Zaman, 2 January 2007. 14. Masis, 1858 issue 319. 15. Ars¸aluys Araradyan, 1842 issue 107, p. 9. 16. Bog˘osyan, Rahip Yeprem, Balyan Kertasdanı (Vienna: Mekhitaryan Tparan, 1981), p. 133. The date of 1845 is also mentioned by Hayrenik 1893, issue 404. 17. There are several other members of the Balyan family who did not become imperial architects. They are dealt with in the study of Bog˘osyan: Balyan Kertasdanı, but not Tug˘lacı: The Role of the Balian Family. 18. Teotik, Teotik Amenun Daretsuytsi (Bolis: Tpagr. V. yev H. Ter-Nersesian, 1907–1929), 1927 issue, p. 566. 19. Pamukciyan, Kevork, Biografileriyle Ermeniler (Istanbul: Aras, 2003), pp. 97 – 100. 20. Bog˘osyan: Balyan Kertasdanı, p. 245; Masis 1866 issue 772. 21. This is from Agop Minasyan’s Master’s thesis (Istanbul University) on the Balyan family from the 1970s, referred to by Ag˘ır. 22. Hubbel Weiss, John, The Making of Technological Man. The Social Origins of French Engineering Education (London and Cambridge MA: MIT Press, 1982), p. 28. 23. The distinguished alumni include Portuguese Humanist Andre´ de Goveia (1497– 1548) and Ignatius de Loyola (1491 – 1556), founder of the Jesuit Order. 24. Chambers, Richard L., ‘Notes on the Mekteb-i Osmani in Paris, 1857– 1874’, in William R. Polk and Richard L. Chambers (eds), Beginnings of Modernization in the Middle East (University of Chicago Press, 1968), pp. 313– 29. 25. Quicherat, J, Histoire De Sainte-Barbe. Colle`ge, Communaute´, Institution (Paris: Librairie de L. Hachette Et Cie, 1864), vol. 3, p. 241. 26. Quicherat: Histoire De Sainte-Barbe, vol. 3, pp. 242– 82. 27. Many of these books are held in the Bibliothe`que Nationale. For example: P. Ovidii Nasonis Metamorphoseon libri I, II, III’. – Me´tamorphoses d’Ovide (les 3 premiers livres). Nouvelle e´dition accompagne´e de notes . . . et publie´e par J. Leroy, . . . a` l’usage des aspirants au baccalaure´at e`s lettres (Paris: Vve Maire-Nyon, 1841).
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NOTES TO PAGES 78 –79
28. Harrigan, Patrick, Mobility, Elites and Education in French Society of the Second Empire (Waterloo, ON: Wilfred Laurier University Press, 1980), p. 8. 29. S¸is¸man, Adnan, Tanzimat Do¨neminde Fransa’ya Go¨nderilen Osmanlı O¨g˘rencileri (1839 – 1876) (Ankara: Tu¨rk Tarih Kurumu, 2004), p. 12. 30. S¸is¸man: Tanzimat Do¨neminde, p. 93. 31. Ibid., p. 9. 32. Ibid., p. 103. 33. Ibid., p. 104. 34. Ibid., p. 105. 35. Ibid., p. 139. 36. Ibid., p. 155. 37. Quicherat: Histoire De Sainte-Barbe, vol. 3, p. 298. 38. BBK, I.DH, D:1168, G:91311, 1307.C.12/1890. This document awards a decoration to the director of Sainte-Barbe. 39. Oskanyan, along with Krikor Odian and Krikor C¸ilingiryan, played an important role in the development of Armenian political and intellectual life in the 1850s and in the writing of the Constitution of 1863. Oshagan, Vahe´ (ed.), Armenia. Review of National Literatures, (New York: Council on National Literatures, St John’s University, Griffon House, 1984), vol. 13, p. 225. Artinian states that Oskanyan taught at Sainte-Barbe. Artinian, Vartan, The Armenian constitutional system in the Ottoman Empire, 1839– 1863: a study of its historical development (Istanbul: Isis Press, 1988), p. 62. 40. Nouvel, Edouard, Le Colle`ge Sainte-Barbe, La Vie d’un Colle`ge Parisien de Charles VII a` nos jours (Paris: Le Colle`ge Sainte-Barbe, 1948), p. 93. 41. Quicherat: Histoire De Sainte-Barbe, appendix. 42. Tug˘lacı, Pars, The Role of the Dadyan Family in Ottoman Social, Economic and Political Life (Istanbul: Yeni C¸ıg˘ır, 1993), p. 25. Tug˘lacı mentions the Nis¸an-ı Ali medal, whereas Quicherat mentions the Nis¸an-ı I˙ftihar. 43. Teotik: Teotik Amenun Daretsuytsi (1921), pp. 256– 67. 44. Odian, Krikor, Haweluats i Meghu : mah Nikoghos Aghayi Palean (Bolis : i Tparani Rubeni ˙ K‘iwrk‘chean, 1858), special issue of the periodical Meg˘u issued on the death of Nigog˘os Balyan on 10th March 1858, p.5. 45. Masis 1858 issue 319. 46. Bog˘osyan: Balyan Kertasdanı, p. 178; Ars¸aluys Araradyan 1850 issue 378. 47. Bog˘osyan: Balyan Kertasdanı, p. 245; Masis 1866 issue 772. 48. Thorossian: Histoire de la litte´rature arme´nienne, p. 276. Krikor Odian (1834– 87) served as Minister of Foreign Affairs and had a strong influence on the Ottoman Constitution through his friend Midhat Pas¸a. He later moved to Paris. 49. Guide des Archives Prive´es, Inventaire des Archives de Paris, Section VII Archives Prive´es et Papiers de Famille. VII.2.1. Rubrique 2. Fonds prive´es ‘de´partementaux’ D.50Z 1 a` 629 Colle`ge Sainte-Barbe, Dossier d’e´le`ves, historique du colle`ge, 1806– 1938. 50. Archives de Paris, D.50Z, article no. 385, 1848 –9 (student number 111). Student registers for the years 1846 to 1852. 51. Archives de Paris, D50Z/6. 52. The student dossiers (D.50Z 1-104) only stretch from 1860 to 1925. The student registers are more sporadic: 1819 (D.50Z/139), 1853 to 1854 (D.50Z/140), etc. suggesting that the record taking only became regular again in the early 1850s. 53. Harsin, Jill, Barricades: The War of the Streets in Revolutionary Paris 1830– 1848 (New York: Palgrave, 2002). 54. Archives de Paris, D.50Z/385, 1848 –49. 55. Archives de Paris, D.50Z/385, 1850 –51. 56. A letter dated 24 December 1862 to Alexandre Labrouste from Artin Dadyan indicates that relations continued to be cordial. Archives de Paris, D.50Z/107, 24 December 1862.
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57. Archives de Paris, D.50Z/385, 1848– 9. For 1848– 9, the following students were chosen: E´cole Polytechnique (19), Militaire (13), Normale (1), Centrale (9), Eaux et Forets (2), Mines (3), Marine (2). On Eiffel see: Harvie, David, Eiffel, the Genius who Reinvented Himself (Stroud, Gloucestershire: Sutton, 2006), p. 7. The Konak Pier in Izmir is thought to have been built by Eiffel in 1890. Balyan and Eiffel may have been acquaintances from their time at Sainte-Barbe and the Centrale. 58. Archives de Paris, D.50Z/107, booklet dated 15 November 1845. 59. Ibid. 60. Ibid. 61. Pierre Ossian Bonnet (1819 – 92) was a docteur es-sciences, graduate of the Polytechnique and the Ponts et Chausee´s and had been teaching at the Sainte-Barbe since 1841 as a professor of differential calculus and mechanics. Fournie´, who was well known for his Traite de la stabilite´ des constructions (1864), taught the cours de commerce. 62. Archives de Paris, D.50Z/107, booklet dated 15 November 1845. The teachers included M. Duhamel (membre de l’Institut, Acade´mie des Sciences) and Cabart (re´pe´titeur at the E´cole Polytechnique). 63. Laine´, Brigitte, Dessins d’e´le`ves du colle`ge Sainte-Barbe, 1849– 1855 (Paris: Archives de Paris, 2007). 64. The cours de dessin by Charles Bargue and Jean-Le´on Ge´roˆme published in 1866 included lithographs to guide students. Ackerman, Gerald M. and Parish, Graydon (eds), Charles Bargue avec les concours de Jean-Le´on Ge´roˆme: Cours de dessin (Paris: ACR, 2003). 65. Rouyer (b.1819), a former student at the Beaux-Arts and winner of the First Grand Prix at the L’E´cole Imperial de Dessin, held the post of teacher of drawing from 1838. Brunel-Rogue (b.1822), who was bachelier es-lettres (graduate of letters), was drawing teacher from 1842. Alexandre Le Be´alle (b.1816), professeur de dessin line´aire, was bachelier es-lettres. Le Be´alle’s books on drawing reflect his teaching methods, for example, Cours the´orique et pratique de dessin line´aire, lavis et ornement (Paris: J. Delalain, 1850– 1). Le Be´alle also wrote on geography, cosmography and astronomy. Jules Ernest Panis (1827 – 95) was a well-known painter who taught drawing and was teacher of the town of Paris (professeur de la ville de Paris). He exhibited at the salons of 1850 and 1874. Archives de Paris, D.11J/130, c.1850. 66. Corot was the painter of the Barbizon School who predated the Impressionists in painting outdoors. Corot, Jean-Baptiste-Camille, and Wallens, Ge´rard de, Corot: Extraordinary Landscapes (New York: Harry N. Abrams Incorporated, 1996). 67. Tournachon (Nadar, 1820– 1910) photographed the impressionists, Courbet, De´lacroix, Baudelaire and Victor Hugo. He was the inspiration for the works of Jules Verne; he lent his studio to the impressionists in 1874, thus making their first exhibition possible, and photographed Victor Hugo on his deathbed. Morris Hambourg, Maria, Nadar, Feı`lix, Heilbrun, Françoise, and Neı`agu, Philippe, Nadar (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1995). 68. Henri Lehmann (1814– 82) was a historical and portrait painter, who studied with Ingre`s. In 1861 he became a teacher at the Beaux-Arts and among his students were Pissarro and Seurat. Howard, Michael, ‘Henri Lehmann’, in Jane Turner (ed.), Grove Dictionary of Art (London: Macmillan, 1996), vol. 19, p. 93. 69. Dated 25 and 26 October, 23 November, 23 December 1873 in Ag˘ır: ‘Balyanlar’ın Eg˘itimleri U¨zerine Notlar’, pp. 65 – 70. 70. The Bilezikciyans were Armenian bankers. Artin Bilezikciyan, born in 1814 in Constantine, was student of Duban at the Beaux-Arts. The´re`se, Louis, Penanrun, David, Les Architectes Ele`ves De L’E´cole des Beaux Arts 1793– 1907 (Paris: Imprimerie Chaix, 1895/1907), p. 145. Bilezikciyan designed a monument to celebrate the alliance of Great Britain, France and Turkey during the Crimean War for the Universal Exposition of 1855. Kreiser, Klaus, ‘Public Monuments in Turkey and Egypt 1840– 1916’, Muqarnas, vol. 14 (1997), pp. 103– 17. Bilezikciyan was a founding member of La Socie´te´ Francaise de Photographie in 1854. Catalogue historique des me´dailles et pie`ces de monnaie depuis la fondation de la dynastie Ottomane: (l’an 699 de l’He´gire) par Sultan Osman-Khan jusqu’a` Sultan Abdulaziz Khan, empereur re´gnant; formant la collection de P.A. Bilezikdji (Constantinople: Imprimerie Henri Cayol, 1864) is in the Ottoman Bank Archive. Bilezikciyan was an official of the
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71. 72. 73. 74. 75. 76. 77. 78. 79. 80. 81. 82. 83. 84. 85.
86. 87. 88. 89.
90.
91. 92.
93. 94.
NOTES TO PAGES 80 –82 Municipal Administration (Belediye), as a letter of his dated 1865 concerning the management of the Sixth District shows. BBK, HR.TO, D:507, G:75, 6 January 1865. Archives de Paris, D.50Z/6, file of Le´on Balyan, letter dated 11 June 1873. Quicherat: Histoire De Sainte-Barbe, pp. 240– 8. Artinian: The Armenian constitutional system, p. 70. The´re`se and Penanrun: Les Architectes Ele`ves, p. 183. Bog˘osyan: Balyan Kertasdanı, p. 178; Masis 1858 issue 319. Levine, Neil, ‘The Book and the Building: Hugo’s Theory of Architecture and Labrouste’s Bibliothe`que Ste-Genevie`ve’, in Robin Middleton (ed.), The Beaux-Arts and Nineteenth-Century French Architecture (London: Thames and Hudson, 1982), p. 139. Levine: ‘The Book and the Building’, p. 139; Bergdoll: European Architecture 1750– 1890, pp. 174– 5. Bergdoll: European Architecture 1750– 1890, p. 178. Van Zanten, David, ‘Architectural Polychromy: Life in Architecture’, in Robin Middleton (ed.), The Beaux-Arts and Nineteenth-Century French Architecture (London: Thames and Hudson, 1982), p. 200. Bergdoll: European Architecture 1750– 1890, p. 176. Levine: ‘The Book and the Building’, p. 139. Ibid., p. 140. Ibid., pp. 142– 7. Meg˘u, 10 March 1858, p. 3. Barillari, Diana, and Ezio, Godoli, Istanbul 1900: Art Nouveau Architecture and Interiors (New York: Rizzoli, 1996), p. 37. Tug˘lacı: The Role of the Balian Family, p.178. These drawings are in the private collection of Armen Gu¨reg˘yan in Asolo near Venice, Italy. It is not clear from the image whether they are signed or not and Mr Gu¨reg˘yan also did not know how they are attributed to Nigog˘os. They were brought by his ancestor the architect Le´on Gu¨reg˘yan when he left Constantinople in 1921. Gurekian, Armen, Le´on Gurekian Architetto (Treviso: G. S. Stampa di Asolo, 2010), p. 5. I thank Armen Gu¨reg˘yan for his kindness. Meg˘u, 10 March 1858, p. 4. Ibid. Ibid., p. 8. Tchobanian, Archag, ‘Hommage des Armeniens a Victor Hugo’ discourse delivered on the anniversary of the birth of Victor Hugo, Hotel de Ville, Paris, 25 February 1902, in Claire Mouradian (ed.), Arme´nie une passion francaise. Le mouvement arme´nophile en France 1878– 1923 (Paris: Magellan & Cie – Muse´e de Montmartre, 2007), p. 119. Tchobanian, Archag, L’Arme´nie, Son Histoire, Sa Litte´rature, Son Role En Orient (Paris: Société du Mercure de France, 1897), p. 17. A group of thinkers who had studied in Paris and were nourished by the ideas of Romanticism started to implement enterprises for the moral and civic education of the people, amorous of justice and liberty (Odian, Oskanyan, Rusinian, Dzerents, etc.). Some of these fought in Paris with the revolutionaries of 1848. Tchobanian: L’Arme´nie, p. 71. Ruy Blas was a tragic drama about a common man who dresses up as a wealthy politician and falls in love with the Queen. It was a call for political reform, first performed in 1838. Strauss, Johan, ‘Who Read What in the Ottoman Empire (19th – 20th centuries)?’, Arabic Middle Eastern Literatures, 6/1 (2003), pp. 60 – 1. The original letter from Victor Hugo giving permission to Krikor C¸ilingirian to translate Les Miserables, dated 1868, is in the collection of his great-nephew in London. Khatchig-Davidian, Vazken, Pattie, Susan Paul, et al. (eds), Treasured Objects. Armenian Life in the Ottoman Empire 100 Years Ago (London: Armenian Institute, 2012), p. 53. And, Metin, A History of Theatre and Popular Entertainment in Turkey (Ankara: Forum Yayınları, 1963– 4), p. 69. Thorossian: Histoire de la litte´rature arme´nienne, p. 277; Hacikyan: The Heritage of Armenian Literature, pp. 250– 60.
NOTES TO PAGES 82 –83
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95. Thorossian: Histoire de la litte´rature arme´nienne, p. 278; Hacikyan: The Heritage of Armenian Literature, pp. 286– 90. 96. Hacikyan: The Heritage of Armenian Literature, pp. 440– 6. 97. Ibid., pp. 380– 2. 98. Mastikian, Andre, ‘Les eschanges intellectuels et artistiques entre Arme´niens et Francais entre 1870 et 1930’, in Claire Mouradian (ed.), Arme´nie une passion francaise. Le mouvement arme´nophile en France 1878– 1923 (Paris: Magellan & Cie – Muse´e de Montmartre, 2007), pp. 111– 14. 99. Thorossian: Histoire de la litte´rature arme´nienne, p. 277; Hacikyan: The Heritage of Armenian Literature, pp. 250– 60. 100. Artinian: The Armenian constitutional system, p. 56. The complete text of the proclamation of the society is in Ars¸aluys Araradyan, 1850 issue 366. 101. Tchobanian: L’Arme´nie, p. 71. 102. Alboyadjian, Archag, ‘Azgayin Sahmanatrutyune, ir Tsakume yev Kirarutyune’ [The National Constitution, Its Origin and Application], Intarsak Oratzuytz Surp Pırgicyan Hivantanotzi Hayotz (Istanbul: Surp Pırgic, 1910), pp. 233– 7; Bes¸iryan, Aylin, ‘Hopes of Secularization in the Ottoman Empire: The Armenian National Constitution and the Armenian Newspaper, Masis, 1856– 1863’ (MA dissertation, Bosphorus University, 2007), p. 57. 103. Bes¸iryan: ‘Hopes of Secularization’, pp. 71 – 3. 104. Teotik: Teotik Amenun Daretsuytsi (1921), p. 263. 105. Keg˘uni, 1 June 1902, pp. 43 – 4; Bes¸iryan: ‘Hopes of Secularization’, pp. 57 – 8. 106. Terzian, Tovmas, ‘The Chraghan Palace’ in Elizabeth Stone Blackwell (ed. and trans.), Armenian Poems Rendered into English Verse (Boston: R. Chambers, 1917), pp. 128– 9. Tovmas Terzian (1840– 1909), wrote lyrical poetry and plays influenced by Armenian tradition and European thought. He was taught by the Mekhitarists, both in Constantinople and Venice. Hacikyan: The Heritage of Armenian Literature, pp. 380– 2. 107. There are many studies on the fascination with genius in nineteenth-century Romantic circles. For instance, on Britain: Higgins, David Minden, Romantic Genius and the Literary Magazine: Biography, Celebrity and Politics (Abingdon and New York: Routledge, 2005). 108. Hoffmeister, Gerhart, ‘Exoticism: Granada’s Alhambra in European Romanticism’, in Gerhart Hoffmeister (ed.), European Romanticism: Literary Cross-currents, Modes and Models (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1990), pp. 113– 26. Hoffmeister mentions Chateaubriand’s vision of the Alhambra as a lost paradise, p. 119. 109. Ruskin’s descriptions of the lagoon and the yellow stones of Venice became so notorious among the nineteenth-century intelligentsia that Proust ‘ironically renders [these descriptions] deliberately more romantic than the original’ in his works. Collier, Peter, Proust and Venice (Cambridge and New York: CUP, 1989), p. 5. 110. Gautier, The´ophile, Constantinople of To-day (1854) by The´ophile Gautier, translated by Robert Howe Gould (London: David Bogue, 1856), pp. 300– 1; Kearns, James, The´ophile Gautier, Orator to the Artists: Art Journalism of the Second Republic (Oxford: Legenda Books, 2007). 111. Gautier: Constantinople, p. 301. 112. Ibid., p. 299. 113. Ibid., p. 298. 114. Montandon, Alain, ‘Ecritures de l’image chez Theophile Gautier’, in Peter Wagner (ed.), Icons-TextsIconotexts. Essays on Ekphrasis and Intermediality (Berlin and New York: De Gruyter, 1995); Montandon, ‘Musique et architecture: Le Palais Garnier’, in Jean-Paul Capdevielle and PeterEckhard Knabe (eds), Les Ecrivains Francais et l’Opera (Köln: Dme-Verlag, 1986), pp. 111– 24. Montandon identifies this ‘transposition’ in art. 115. De Nerval: Voyage en Constantinople, vol. 2, p. 216. 116. Lamartine, Alphonse De, Voyage en Orient (Bruxelles: Socie´te´ Belge De Librairie, etc. Hauman et Comp.ie., 1838), p. 265, pp. 273– 5. 117. Ghukas Inchichian’s poem on the Bosphorus may have inspired Byron. Byron was translating it while on San Lazzaro and corresponded with the author. Dowsett, Charles, ‘“The Madman Has
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118. 119. 120. 121. 122. 123. 124. 125. 126. 127. 128. 129.
130. 131. 132. 133. 134. 135.
136. 137.
138.
NOTES TO PAGES 83 –85 Come Back Again!” Byron and Armenian’, Journal of the Society of Armenian Studies, 4 (1988 – 9), p. 46. Arzruni, Krikor, Les Arme´niens De Turquie. Leur Situation Economique (Vienne: Imprimeur-Editeur, J.C. Fischer & Cie, 1881), p. 16. Arzruni states it was built by Serkis Balyan. Tchobanian: L’Arme´nie, p. 17. Meg˘u, 10 March 1858, p. 6. De Morgan, Jacques, Histoire du peuple arme´nien (Paris: Berger-Leurault, 1919), p. 347. Necipog˘lu, Gu¨lru, The Age of Sinan: Architectural Culture in the Ottoman Empire (London: Reaktion, 2005), pp. 115– 24. Hamadeh, Shirine, ‘Ottoman Expressions of Early Modernity and the “Inevitable” Question of Westernization’, Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians, 63/1 (March 2004), pp. 45 – 6. Loyer, Francois, Histoire de l’Architecture Francaise. De la Re´volution a` nos jours (Paris: Menge`s/Editions du patrimoine, 1999), p. 119. Van Zanth, David, Building Paris. Architectural Institutions and the Transformation of the French Capital 1830– 1870 (Cambridge: CUP, 1994), p. 105. Van Zanth: Building Paris, p. 105. Ruskin, John, The Stones of Venice, edited and abridged by J.G. Links (London: Pallas Editions, 1853/2001), p. 17. Bergdoll: European Architecture 1750– 1890, p. 140– 1. Hybrid refers to a racial or cultural mixture. Nineteenth-century discourses on hybridity became a way to enforce assimilation and order in society. Hybridity in post-colonial architecture shows the agency of the subaltern. Hybridity can also express cultural globalization, cultural diversity, local cultural resistance and cross cultural fusion (as opposed to cultural imperialism). Hybridity can become the manservant of multinational corporations, especially when the role of power is ignored. Kraidy, Marwan M., preface in Hybridity, or the Cultural Logic of Globalization (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 2005), p. vii; Prabhu, Anjali, Hybridity: Limits, Transformations, Prospects (New York: SUNY Press, 2007). Blondel, Jacques-Francois, Cours d’architecture, ou, Traite´ de la de´coration, distribution & construction des baˆtiments: contenant les lecons donne´es en 1750, & les anne´es suivants (Paris: Chez Desaint, 1771). Van Zanth: Building Paris, p. 105. Pothier, Francoise, Histoire De L’E´cole Centrale Des Arts Et Manufactures D’Apres Des Documents Authentiques Et En Partie Ine´dits Par Francois Pothier (Paris: Delamotte Fils et Cie, Libraires-Editeurs, 1887), pp. 7 – 8. Hubbel Weiss: The Making of Technological Man, p. 14 and p. 24. Bib. Nat., 8o V 11 904, E´cole Centrale des Arts et Manufactures Anne´e 1840– 1. 23.6 per cent of the 1829– 47 students at the Centrale were from Paris. There were students from Switzerland, Brazil, Russia, Belgium, Egypt, Martinique, Spain, Poland, Malabar, Mauritius, Bogota, Cuba, Montevideo, Guadeloupe, London, New York, Dorpat and Constantinople. Hubbel Weiss: The Making of Technological Man, p. 60. Hubbel Weiss: The Making of Technological Man, p. 73. Lavalle´ (Director), Bardin (Director of Studies), Dumas (chemistry), Olivier (descriptive geometry), Pe´clet (industrial physics), Ferry (iron metallurgy and mechanical technology), Walter De St Ange (construction and the establishment of machines), Perdonnet (railways), Mary (construction and public works), Payen (testing commercial and industrial chemistry) and Belanger (general and industrial mechanics). Bib. Nat., 8o V 11 904, E´cole Centrale des Arts et Manufactures Anne´e 1840 – 1. The obligatory first-year classes at the Centrale were descriptive geometry, mechanics, physics, chemistry, hygiene, natural history applied to industry, and drawing. In the second and third years: descriptive geometry, mechanics, industrial physics, chemistry, analytical chemistry, construction, establishment of machines, architecture, public works, exploitation of mines, metallurgy, machines with steam and railways.
NOTES TO PAGES 85 –89
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139. ‘Les travaux graphiques se composent de dessin architectural, de lavis, d’e´pures a` la re`gle, au compas et a` l’e´chelle, et de croquis trace´s a` main leve´es et cote´s, relatifs a` tous les cours.’ Bib. Nat., 8o V 11 904, E´cole Centrale des Arts et Manufactures Anne´e 1840– 1. 140. Teotik clarifies that Serkis attended the E´cole Centrale. Teotik: Teotik Amenun Daretsuytsi (1921), p. 263; Ars¸aluys Araradyan, 1850 issue 378, stated that Serkis attended the Sainte-Barbe and the E´cole Centrale in 1850; Masis 1852 issue 21, notes that Serkis attended the ‘E´cole Centrale des arts et metiers’ in 1852. 141. Hagop Baronian, ‘the Armenian Molie`re’, was a satirist and comedic writer. He attended the Cemaran School, wrote for newspapers such as Yeprad and edited Meg˘u. Pamukciyan: Biografileriyle Ermeniler, pp. 102– 3. 142. Bog˘osyan: Balyan Kertasdanı, p. 178. Madiros Mu¨hendisian was the brother of the printing press owner Ohannes Mu¨hendisian. Pamukciyan: Biografileriyle Ermeniler, p. 315. Hayasdan 1846 issue 3, mentions Mıgırdic Mu¨hendisian studying painting in Paris. 143. The student registers are kept in the private archives of the school library. The register from 1850 to 1851 provides this information on Serkis’s stay at the Centrale. It includes his entrance exams and other letters concerning his attendance. 144. Pothier: Histoire De L’E´cole Centrale, p. 152. 145. Ibid., pp. 318– 19. 146. Serkis’s 1849 admission exams consisted of arithmetic (oral score: 11, composition score: 14), geometry (oral: 11, composition: 15 and 13) and algebra (oral: 12, composition: 12). 147. Still today it is ‘among the most valuable subjects in technical and engineering education’ and ‘the language of the engineering profession’. Holliday-Darr, Kathryn, Stewart, Susan A., Applied Descriptive Geometry (New York: Delmar, 1998), p. 2. 148. Andersen, Kirsti, The Geometry of an Art: The History of the Mathematical Theory of Perspective from Alberti to Monge (New York: Springer, 2007), p. 706. 149. E´cole Centrale, Student Registers 1850– 1. 150. Another student, Paul Julien was son of the painter Joly. He also attended the Sainte-Barbe and Priestly’s school, was penalized for smoking in the study room and for loud conduct. He seems to have been a kindred spirit. E´cole Centrale, Student Registers 1850– 1. 151. Pothier: Histoire De L’E´cole Centrale, pp. 291– 2. 152. Pfammatter, Ulrich, The Making of the Modern Architect and Engineer (Basel, Boston and Berlin: Birkhauser, 2000), pp. 132– 41. 153. Mary, Louis-Charles, Cours d’Architecture a` L’E´cole Centrale des Arts et Manufactures, Paris 1852-1853 (Paris: Clouet, 1853). 154. The student notebooks or cahiers spe´ciaux are kept in the private archives of the Centrale. Selections from the 1850s, including those of Dutreux, remain. They are unnumbered. 155. Comberousse, C. de, Histoire De L’E´cole Centrale Des Arts Et Manufactures Depuis Sa Fondation Jusqu’a` Ce Jour (Paris: Gauthier-Villars, 1879), p. 199. 156. Ersoy, Ahmet, ‘Serkis Bey’s Dream: An Alternative House of Sciences And The Fall of The Traditional Builder’ in Hasan Kuruyazıcı (ed.), Armenian Architects of Istanbul In The Era of Westernization (Istanbul: International Hrant Dink Foundation Publications, 2010), pp. 59 – 79. 157. Cezar, Mustafa, Sanatta Batıya Acılıs¸ ve Osman Hamdi (Istanbul: Is¸ Bankası Yayınları, 1971); Nalbantog˘lu, Gu¨lsum Baydar, ‘The Professionalization of the Ottoman-Turkish Architect’ (PhD dissertation, University of California, Berkeley, 1989); S¸enyurt, Oya, Osmanlı Mimarlık O¨rgu¨tlenmesinde Deg˘is¸im ve Do¨nu¨s¸u¨m (Istanbul: Dog˘u Kitabevi, 2011). 158. C¸elik, Zeynep, Empire, Architecture and the City. French-Ottoman Encounters 1830– 1914 (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2008), p. 34, stresses that Europeans won these concessions. In the National Archives in Kew there are numerous Board of Trade (BT) documents relating to liquidation: Imperial Ottoman Mining Company Ltd, incorporated in 1869 and dissolved before 1916 (BT 31/1470/4468); Ottoman Cotton Company Ltd, incorporated in 1863, dissolved before 1916 (BT 31/778/4248); Ottoman National Brick and Pottery Company Ltd, incorporated in 1872
212
159. 160. 161. 162. 163. 164.
165.
166. 167. 168. 169. 170. 171. 172. 173. 174. 175. 176. 177. 178. 179. 180. 181. 182. 183. 184. 185. 186. 187. 188. 189.
NOTES TO PAGES 89 –92 and dissolved before 1916 (BT 31/1677/5958) and the Ottoman Railway and Public Works Corporation dissolved in 1899 (BT 34/1028/43002). Note the dates. No owners are listed. BBK, A)MKT.MHM, D:467, G:59, 1290.N.05/1873. BBK, M.V. D:179, G:78, 1331.N.16/1913. BBK, MV, D:186, G:15, 1332.R.10/1914. Tug˘lacı: The Role of the Balian Family, p. 430; Cezar: Sanatta Batıya Acılıs¸, p. 117. Le Monde Illustre´, 28 August 1875. The document states: ‘s¸irket-i mezkure Memalik-i Mahruse-i Mu¨lukanede her nev’i ameliyat-ı mi’mariyeyi icra etmek ve es¸ya-yı lazimesini i’mal icu¨n dest-gah ve fabrikalar ins¸ası ve menafi-i umumiyeye mu¨te’allik sair mevaddı vu¨cu¨de getirmek maksadiyle tes¸ekku¨l idecek olup.’ Tug˘lacı: The Role of the Balian Family, p. 712, ‘Document 123/A’ (BBK, M.M.I. 1918, 22 Muharrem 1290/1873). The earliest document, from 6 Zafer 1289/14 April 1872, states: ‘Ebniyeye mu¨te‘allik Avrupa’dan celb edilmekte bulunan bazı es¸yanın buraca fabrikalar ihdasıyla meydana getirilmesi icin bir s¸irketin usul ve emsal dairesinde tes¸ekku¨lu¨ne’. BBK, A.MKT.MHM, D:446, G:100, 1289. Z.6/1872. A document from 28 March 1873 reuses the same phrase ‘binalar icin Avrupadan celb edilmekte bulunan bazı es¸yanın burada fabrika ıhdasıyla’. BBK, A)MKT.MHM, D:451, G:3, 1290. M.28/1873. The document states: ‘her devlet ve memlekette bu makule s¸eylerin ekseri kendi mu¨lkleri icinde’. Tug˘lacı: The Role of the Balian Family, p. 712, ‘Document 123/A’ (BBK, M.M.I. 1918, 22 Muharrem 1290/1873). The document states: ‘ecnebi bir s¸irket tarafından bu misillu fabrikalar ihdasına ruhsat verilmemek.’ Tug˘lacı: The Role of the Balian Family, p. 712, ‘Document 123/A’ (BBK, M.M.I. 1918, 22 Muharrem 1290/1873). Tug˘lacı: The Role of the Balian Family, p. 433. Teotik: Teotik Amenun Daretsuytsi (1921), p. 263. Bog˘osyan: Balyan Kertasdanı, p. 178. AJ/52 (1-1415) contains the archives of the E´cole des Beaux-Arts, but there are also the student dossiers in the collection AJ/52* (544-600). Archives Nationales, AJ/52/917, 1849. Archives Nationales, AJ/52/235 concerns inscriptions for April 1841–March 1871; AJ/52/238 concerns registers for students of architecture for 1836– 60. Archives Nationales, AJ/52/354 is the section for student dossiers for architecture students with surnames beginning with A and B pre-1895. Archives Nationales, AJ/52/553 concerns ateliers pre-1945. Archives Nationales, AJ/52/53 – 55. Archives Nationales, AJ/52/161 contains both these classes for 1860 and 1864. Dzarig, 1899 issue 56. Archives Nationales, AJ/52/239. Archives Nationales, AJ/52/243. Archive Nationales, AJ/52/553 Archives Nationales, AJ/52/353. Archives Nationales, AJ/52/161. Archives Nationales, AJ/52/41. These relate to the year 1897, however. Archives Nationales, AJ/52/39, Prospectus for 1863– 64. Ibid. Although this particular page has no date, another page with the same content is labelled ‘Professeurs au 13 novembre 1863 a` partir du 13 novembre 1865’. Archives Nationales, AJ/52/39. Archives Nationales, AJ/52/460, personnel enseignant dossiers individuels A –S. Louis-Jules Andre´ is listed in AJ/52/35, re´pertoire des professeurs. His student dossier is in AJ/52/353. Andre´ was recommended by Beule´ and Viollet-le-Duc for the post of architect of the Diocese of Ajaccio and was a chevalier of the Order of St Gregory and member of the Legion of Honour.
NOTES TO PAGES 92 –94
190. 191. 192. 193. 194. 195. 196. 197. 198. 199. 200.
201. 202. 203. 204. 205. 206. 207.
208. 209. 210. 211. 212. 213. 214.
215.
213
In 1880 he became inspector of civil monuments and in 1884 a member of the Institut de France. The´re`se and Penanrun: Les architectes e´le`ves, pp. 122–4, p.160. Garnier, Charles, Le Nouvel Ope´ra (Paris: Librairie générale de l’architecture et des travaux publics, Ducher et Cie, 1878– 81). Breisch, Kenneth, A., Henry Hobson Richardson and the Small Public Library in America: A Study in Typology (Cambridge, Mass: MIT Press, 1997), p. 145, cites the memoirs of Theodore Minot Clark from 1888. Guadet, Julien, Ele´ments et the´orie de l’architecture (Paris: Librairie de la construction moderne, Aulanier, 1901– 4). Mallgrave, Harry Francis, Modern Architectural Theory: A Historical Survey 1673– 1968 (Cambridge: CUP, 2005), p. 70. Durand, J.N.L., Pre´cis des Lecons d’Architecture (Paris: Rey et Grauvier, 1817). Jacques, Annie, ‘The Programmes of the Architectural Section of the E´cole des Beaux-Arts, 1819– 1914’, in Robin Middleton (ed.), The Beaux-Arts and Nineteenth-Century French Architecture (London: Thames and Hudson, 1982), p. 62. Archives Nationales, AJ/52/39, prospectus for 1863– 4. This is printed material on the course of Magne, which states on the final page ‘36-97-1900 imprimerie nationale’, but the date of the course is not specified. Archives Nationales, AJ/52/41. Archives Nationales, AJ/52/41. Archives Nationales, AJ/52/39. Mallgrave: Modern Architectural Theory, p. 73. Beatrice Saint-Laurent suggested that the young Ottoman architects studying in Paris were influenced by Viollet-le-Duc but did not give any compelling evidence. Saint-Laurent, Beatrice, ‘Ottomanization and modernization. The architectural and urban development of Bursa and the genesis of tradition, 1839-1914’ (PhD dissertation, Harvard, 1989), p. 216. Viollet-le-Duc, Euge`ne, Lectures on Architecture, translated by Benjamin Bucknall (London: Sampson Low, Marston, Searle And Rivington Crown Buildings, 1877), p. 388. Viollet-le-Duc: Lectures on Architecture, p. 447. Viollet-le-Duc: Lectures on Architecture, pp. 448– 9. Viollet-le-Duc mentions the four principles of Descartes. He was a romantic but at the same time a rationalist. This mixture of references recalls Krikor Odian’s description of the works of Nigog˘os. Hill, Rosemary, God’s Architect. Pugin And The Building Of Romantic Britain (London: Penguin Books, 2007), p. 148; Pugin, A.W. N., A Letter to A. W. Hakewill (Salisbury: W.B. Brodie & co., 1835), pp. 6 – 7. Hill: God’s Architect, p. 157; Pugin, A.W.N., Contrasts (London: A.W. Pugin, 1836), pp. 30 – 1. Hill: God’s Architect, p. 116. Parville´e worked on S¸ehzade Abdu¨laziz’s apartment in the Dolmabahce Palace. Aoki-Girardelli, Miyuki, ‘A Parisian in Istanbul: Ambivalent Perceptions of Le´on Parville´e’, in Ge´za Da´vid and Ibolya Gerelyes (eds), Thirteenth International Congress of Turkish Art (Budapest: Hungarian National Museum, 2009), p. 84; Saint-Laurent: ‘Ottomanization and Modernization’, p. 179. Parville´e, Le´on, L’architecture et de´coration turque (Paris, 1874), p. 15. Parville´e: L’architecture et de´coration turque, p. 15. Ibid., preface by Viollet-le-Duc. Ibid., preface by Viollet-le-Duc, p. iii. Ibid., p. 8. Ibid., p. 9. Beatrice Saint-Laurent noted in passing the connection between Parville´e, Galland and the ideas of Henri Labrouste, in addition to the later influence of Viollet-le-Duc on the architecture of the Ottoman Empire. Saint-Laurent: ‘Ottomanization and Modernization’, pp. 180– 2. However, Parville´e’s own works were neo-Ottoman. The Gothic was the ultimate architectural type fitting of Viollet-le-Duc’s definition of the term ‘style’ because of ‘the perfect harmony between the results obtained and the means employed to
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216. 217. 218. 219. 220. 221. 222. 223. 224. 225. 226. 227. 228. 229. 230. 231. 232. 233.
NOTES TO PAGES 94 –97 achieve them ’. Bergdoll: European Architecture 1750– 1890, p. 225. From Viollet-le-Duc, ‘Style’, Dictionnaire raisonne´, vol. 8, (1858) as translated in Barry Bergdoll (ed.), Viollet-le-Duc: The Foundations of Architecture (New York: G. Braziller, 1990), p. 240. Bergdoll: European Architecture 1750– 1890, p. 228. Ibid., p. 235. Hermann, Wolfgang, Gottfried Semper, In Search of Architecture (Cambridge: CUP, 1984), pp. 45 –7. Semper was friendly with figures such as Charles Se´chan, who had strong connections to the Balyans. Se´chan, Charles, Souvenirs d’un home de the´aˆtre (Paris: Calmann-Levy, 1855). Bergdoll: European Architecture 1750– 1890, p. 253. Le Monde Illustre´, 21 August 1875, issue 958, p. 125. De Morgan: Histoire du Peuple Arme´nien, p. 347 Sevadjian, Marie, L’Amira, Traduit de l’Arme´nien Par Fre´de´ric Macler (Paris: Librairie Ernest Leroux, 1907/1927), pp. 125– 30. Sevadjian: L’Amira, pp. 123– 5. Vartan Pas¸a, Akabi Hikayesi, I˙lk Tu¨rkce Roman, transliterated by A. Tietze (Istanbul: Eren Yayıncılık, 1851/1991), p. 14. Vartan Pas¸a: Akabi Hikayesi, p. 13. Ibid., p. 48. Ibid., pp. 48 – 9. This was a book but only the cover of it remains in the Ottoman Bank Museum Archives, and it states: ‘edited by H. Kapamadjian of Roustchouk, Bulgaria’. Tug˘lacı: The Role of the Balian Family, p. 433. Ibid., p. 433. Ibid., p. 344. Ko¨ker, Osman, 100 Yıl O¨nce Ermeniler (Istanbul: Birzamanlar Yayıncılık, 2005), pp. 282– 3. BBK, I.HUS, D:92, 1319.N.13/1901-2. The orphanage was built after Serkis Bey died.
Chapter 5 Official Style and Architecture in the Tanzimat 1. De Nerval, Ge´rard, Voyage en Orient, vol. 2 (Paris: Charpentier Libraire-Editeur, 1851), p. 216. ‘This is the Turkish style of the last century: scallops, rocks as ornaments, kiosks decorated with shamrocks and arabesques, protruding like huge grilled golden cages, the pointed roofs and the columns painted in bright colours. One might dream of the mysteries of the Thousand and One Nights.’ 2. Curzon, Robert, Visit to Monasteries in the Levant (London: John Murray, 1851), p. 41. 3. De Launay, Marie, Montani, Pietro et al., Usul-u Mimar-i Osmaniye/ L’Architecture Ottoman (Istanbul: Tarih Aras¸tırmalar Vakfı, T.C. Ku¨ltu¨r Bakanlıg˘ı, 1873/1998), p. 16. 4. Bergdoll, Barry, European Architecture 1750– 1890 (Oxford: OUP, 2000), p. 1. 5. Bazin, Germain, Histoire de l’histoire de l’art; de Vasari a` nos jours (Paris: Albin Michel, 1986), pp. 169– 80. 6. Fernie, Eric, ‘Henri Focillon’, in Art History and its Methods (London: Phaidon, 1995), p. 170. Focillon, Henri, La Vie des formes (Paris: Librairie Ernest Leroux, 1934); Focillon, Henri, The Life of Forms in Art, tr. C.B. Hogan and G. Kubler (New York: Zone Books, 1989), pp. 44 – 63. 7. Hobsbawm, Eric, Nations and Nationalism Since 1780 (Cambridge: CUP, 1990/1992); Anderson, Benedict, Imagined Communities. Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism (New York: Verso, 1983). 8. Neo-Gothic architecture was seen in France and England, as well as Central Europe, as an attempt to make a national style. Bergdoll: European Architecture 1750– 1890, pp. 1 – 3. In England and France the image of the nation was developed through painting certain kinds of landscapes, heroic, elegaic,
NOTES TO PAGES 97 –100
9. 10.
11. 12. 13. 14. 15.
16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25.
26.
27. 28. 29. 30. 31.
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and oath-taking scenes, for instance. Smith, Anthony D., The Nation Made Real. Art and National Identity in Western Europe, 1600-1850 (Oxford: OUP, 2013), pp. 3– 4. Bergdoll: European Architecture 1750– 1890, pp. 2 – 3. At the time of writing there was the first exhibition on Henri Labrouste held in the USA at MoMA in New York. Gautier, The´ophile, Constantinople of To-day (1854) by The´ophile Gautier (London: David Bogue, 1856), translated by Robert Howe Gould, pp. 300– 1; Terzian, Tovmas, ‘The Chraghan Palace’ in Elizabeth Stone Blackwell (ed. and trans.), Armenian Poems Rendered into English Verse (Boston: R. Chambers, 1917), pp. 128–9. Fernie: ‘Henri Focillon’, p. 172. Caygill, Howard, ‘Ottoman Baroque: The Limits of Style’, in Helen Hills (ed.), Rethinking the Baroque (Farnham: Ashgate, 2011), p. 77. Flood, Finbarr Barry, The Great Mosque of Damascus: Studies on the Makings of an Umayyad Visual Culture (Leiden: Brill, 2000), p. 209. Canby, Sheila R., Shah ‘Abbas: The Re-Making of Iran (London: British Museum Press, 2009). Watenpaugh, Heghnar Zeitlian, The Image of An Ottoman City: Imperial Architecture and Urban Experience in Aleppo in the 16th and 17th Centuries (Leiden: Brill, 2004), pp. 1 – 11; Kafesciog˘lu, C¸ig˘dem, Constantinopolis/Istanbul. Cultural Encounter, Imperial Vision, and the Construction of the Ottoman Capital (University Park, Pa: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2009). Necipog˘lu, Gu¨lru, ‘A Kanun for the State, A Canon for the Arts: Conceptualizing the Classical Synthesis of Ottoman Art and Architecture’, in Gilles Veinstein (ed.), Soliman le Magnifique et son temps (Paris: La Documentation Francaise, 1992), pp. 195– 216. Necipog˘lu: ‘A Kanun for the State’, pp. 195– 7. Ibid., p. 208. Hamadeh, Shirine, ‘The City’s Pleasures: Architectural Sensibility in Eighteenth-Century Istanbul’ (PhD dissertation, MIT, 1999). Ibid., pp. 243– 8. Ibid., pp. 35 – 46. Goodwin, Godfrey, A History of Ottoman Architecture (London: Thames and Hudson, 1971/1987), p. 409. Hitzel, Fre´de´ric, Perot, Jacques, Anhegger, Robert, Hatice Sultan ile Melling Kalfa Mektuplar (Istanbul: Tarih Vakfı Yurt Yayınları, 2001). Tanpınar, Ahmet Hamdi, XIX. Asır Tu¨rk Edebiyatı Tarihi (Istanbul: Yapı Kredi, 1949/2006), pp. 67 – 8; Pamuk, Orhan, Istanbul: Memories of a City (London: Faber, 2005), p. 56. Murphey, Rhoads, Exploring Ottoman Sovereignty: Tradition, Image and Practice in the Ottoman Imperial Household, 1400– 1800 (London: Continuum, 2008); Pierce, Leslie P., The Imperial Harem: Women and Sovereignty in the Ottoman Empire (Oxford and New York: OUP, 1993); Kafadar, Cemal, ‘A Rome of One’s Own: Reflections on Cultural Geography and Identity in the Lands of Rum’, Muqarnas, vol. 24 (2007), pp. 7 – 25. Fortna, Benjamin C., ‘Sovereignty in the Ottoman Empire and After’, in Sally N. Cummings and Raymond Hinnebusch (eds), Sovereignty After Empire: Comparing the Middle East and Central Asia (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2011), pp. 91 – 103.; Deringil, Selim, The Well-Protected Domains: Ideology and the Legitimation of Power in the Ottoman Empire, 1876– 1909 (London: I.B. Tauris, 1998); Karateke, Hakan T., and Reinkowski, Maurus (eds), Legitimizing the Order: The Ottoman Rhetoric of State Power (Leiden: Brill, 2005). Quataert, Donald, ‘Clothing Laws, State and Society in the Ottoman Empire, 1720– 1829’, IJMES, 29 (1997), pp. 403– 25. Davison, Roderic H., Reform in the Ottoman Empire 1856– 1876 (New York: Gordian Press, 1963/1973). Es’ad Efendi, Pre´cis Historique De La Destruction Du Corps Des Janissaires Par Le Sultan Mahmoud en 1826, Traduit du Turc par A.P. Caussin De Perceval (Paris: F. Didot frères, 1826), Pre´face, p. 3. Renda, Gu¨nsel, ‘Propagating the Imperial Image: Tasvir-i Hu¨mayun (1800 – 1922)’, in Gu¨nsel Renda et al. (ed.), The Sultan’s Portrait: Picturing the House of Osman (Istanbul: Işbank, 2000), p. 450. Renda: ‘Propagating the Imperial Image’, p. 452.
216
NOTES TO PAGES 101 –104
32. Deringil: The Well-Protected Domains, p. 22. 33. C¸ark, Y.G., Tu¨rk Devleti Hızmetinde Ermeniler (Istanbul: Yeni Matbaa, 1953), p. 137; Shaw, Wendy M.K., Ottoman Painting: Reflections of Western Art from the Ottoman Empire to the Turkish Republic (London and New York: I.B. Tauris, 2010), p. 38; Ku¨rkman, Garo, Osmanlı I˙mparatorlug˘unda Ermeni Ressamlar 1600– 1923 (Istanbul: Matusalem Yayınları, 2004), vol.1, pp. 587– 9. 34. Gu¨lru Necipog˘lu, ‘Visual Cosmopolitanism and Creative Translation: Artistic Conversations with Renaissance Italy in Mehmed II’s Constantinople’, Muqarnas, vol. 29 (2012), pp. 1 – 81. 35. Rado, S¸evket, Paris’te Bir Osmanlı Sefiri/Yirmisekiz Mehmet C¸elebi’nin Fransa Seyahatnamesi (Istanbul: I˙s¸ Bankası Ku¨ltu¨r Yayınları, 2008); Go¨cek, Fatma Mu¨ge, East Encounters West: France and the Ottoman Empire in the Eighteenth Century (Oxford: OUP, 1987). 36. Irepog˘lu, Gu¨l, ‘Topkapı Sarayı Mu¨zesi Hazine Ku¨tu¨phanesindeki Batılı Kaynaklar U¨zerine Du¨s¸u¨nceler’, Topkapı Sarayı Mu¨zesi Yıllık, vol. 1 (1986), pp. 56 – 72. 37. Uluhogian, Gabriella, Zekiyan, Boghos Levon, Karapetian, Vartan, Armenia Imprints of a Civilization (Milan: Skira, 2011), especially, Aslanian, Sebouh, ‘The Cultural Flourishing of the Armenian Communities in India and Around the Indian Ocean and the Development of their Social and Political Thought in the Eighteenth Century’, pp. 207– 23. 38. Aslanian: ‘The Cultural Flourishing’, p. 208. 39. For illustrations of cartouches see those by the baroque artist and engraver Krauss. Krauss, Johann Ulrich, Ornamental Cartouches (New York: Dover, 1988). 40. Travel of important persons between Constantinople and Europe is covered in the news sections: Baron Hausmann met with the Grand Vizier in 1873, Levant Herald, 14 February 1873. In 1857 Dihran Bey, Director of the Imperial Fezhane, departed for Berlin to deliver to the King of Prussia the Mecidiye Decoration, Journal de Constantinople, 27 April 1857, p. 99. In 1848 Ohannes Dadyan departed to Belgium to research industrial and metallurgical production methods, returning to Paris to ratify contracts, Journal de Constantinople, 21 January 1848. 41. Ohannes Dadyan’s first visit to Europe was in 1835 when he travelled to visit factories. In 1842 and 1847 he visited Europe to secure delivery of machinery. Alboyadjian, Archag, Les Dadian, transl. Anna Naguib Boutros-Ghali (Cairo, 1965). 42. Teotik, Teotik Amenun Daretsuytsi (Bolis: Tpagr. V. yev H. Ter-Nersesian, 1907-1929), issue from 1921, pp. 257–8. 43. Goodwin: A History of Ottoman Architecture, p. 404. 44. Kuban, Dog˘an, Ottoman Architecture (Woodbridge: Antique Collectors’ Club, 2010), p. 570. 45. Lamartine, Alphonse De, Voyage en Orient (Bruxelles: Socie´te´ Belge De Librairie, etc. Hauman et Comp.ie., 1838), vol. 3, p. 295. 46. MacFarlane, Charles, Constantinople in 1828 (London: Saunders and Otley, 1829) vol. II, p. 60. 47. Ibid., pp. 62 – 3. 48. Middleton, R.D., ‘Hittorff’s Polychrome Campaign’, in Robin Middleton (ed.), The Beaux-Arts and Nineteenth-Century French Architecture (London: Thames and Hudson, 1982), p. 175. Victor Hugo attacked the modern buildings which had ‘the ridiculous pretention of being Greek or Roman in France’. Levine, Neil, ‘The Book and the Building: Hugo’s Theory of Architecture and Labrouste’s Bibliothe`que Ste-Genevie`ve’, in Middleton (ed), The Beaux-Arts and Nineteenth-Century French Architecture, pp. 138 – 73. 49. Bergdoll: European Architecture 1750– 1890, pp. 9 – 10. 50. Es’ad Efendi: Pre´cis Historique De La Destruction Du Corps Des Janissaires, p. 3. 51. Kuban, Dog˘an, Tu¨rk barok mimarisi hakkinda bir deneme (Istanbul: Pulhan Matbaası, 1954). Kuban described these mosques as Turkish Baroque because of formal features, such as the curved courtyard of Nur-u Osmaniye Mosque. Other baroque mosques include Ayazma and Laleli. 52. Kuban: Ottoman Architecture, p. 631. 53. Goodwin: A History of Ottoman Architecture, p. 418. 54. Crane, Howard, The Garden of the Mosques: Hafız Hu¨seyin Al-Ayvansarayı’s Guide to the Muslim Monuments of Ottoman Istanbul (Leiden: Brill, 2000), p. 385. The account of the Nusretiye was added in the 1830s by Ali Sati.
NOTES TO PAGES 104 –110 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62. 63. 64. 65.
66. 67. 68. 69. 70.
71. 72. 73. 74. 75. 76. 77.
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Crane: The Garden of the Mosques, p. 385. O¨z, Tahsin, Istanbul Camileri (Ankara: TTK, 1987), vol. II, p. 50. Collas, M.B.C., La Turquie En 1864 Par M.B.C. Collas (Paris: Librairie de la Socie´te´ Des Gens De Lettres, 1864), p. 71. Bunel, Louis, Je´rusalem, La Cote de Syrie et Constantinople en 1853 (Paris: Sangnier et Bray, 1854/ Elibron Classics, 2005), p. 375. Deringil: The Well-Protected Domains, p. 26. Ibid., p. 21; Deringil, Selim, ‘The Invention of Tradition as Public Image in the Late Ottoman Empire 1808-1908’, Comparative Studies in Society and History, 35 (1) (Jan 1993), p. 6. Pamukciyan, Kevork, ‘Balyan (Karabet Amira)’, Istanbul Ansiklopedisi (1961), vol. 4, p. 2090. Kuban: Ottoman Architecture, p. 605. Mallgrave, Harry Francis, Modern Architectural Theory: A Historical Survey 1673– 1968 (Cambridge: CUP, 2005), p. 67. Deringil: ‘The Invention of Tradition’, p. 7. Traditional Islamic – Ottoman symbols in the Ottoman coat of arms included a vase full of roses and incense symbolizing the magnanimity of the state. Zubaida, Sami, ‘Middle Eastern Experiences of Cosmopolitanism’, in Steven Vertovec and Robin Cohen (eds), Conceiving Cosmopolitanism: Theory, Context and Practice (Oxford and New York: OUP, 2002), pp. 36 –7. Cosmopolitanism was linked with imperialism, which caused the nationalist reaction against it. More recently there has been nostalgia for this golden age, which forgets negative aspects, such as the imperial context. Destrilles, M., Confidences sur la Turquie (Paris: E. Dentu, 1855), XLI. Ibid., p. 29. Gilson, Adrian, The Czar and the Sultan; or, Nicholas and Abdul Medjid: Their Private Lives and Public Actions (New York: Harper & Bros., 1853), p. 71. BBK, HR.TO, 596, D:414, G:13, 1851.01.04. Mu¨hendis Beyker made drawings of Parisian buildings. L’Illustration was an illustrated political magazine created by the journalists Aldolphe Joanne, Edouard-Thomas Charton and Jean-Baptiste Paulin. It pioneered the reading of foreign press to obtain information on other cultures, had sections on cultural events and aimed to achieve ‘public instruction’. Marchandiau, Jean-Noel, L’Illustration 1843/1944. Vie Et Mart D’Un Journal (Toulouse Cedex: Bibliothe`que historique privaˆt, 1987), p. 14. Zubaida: ‘Middle Eastern’, p. 39. L’Illustration, 11 March 1854. L’Illustration, 11 February 1854, p. 86. Aracı, Emre, Naum Tiyatrosu 19. Yu¨zyıl I˙stanbulu’nun I˙talyan Operası (Istanbul: Yapı Kredi, 2010). Aracı: Naum Tiyatrosu, pp. 354– 5. And, Metin, A History of Theatre and Popular Entertainment in Turkey (Ankara: Forum Yayınları, 1963– 4), pp. 67 – 9. Dumont, Paul, Osmanlıcılık, Ulus¸cu Akımlar ve Masonluk (Istanbul: Yapı Kredi, 2000/2007), p. 8. Edhem Pas¸a and Mustafa Fazıl were the first Muslim members of L’Union d’Orient, the Constantinople branch of the Grand Orient de France, which included Res¸id Pas¸a, Fuad Pas¸a, Midhat Pas¸a, etc. Grand Orient de France opened on Rue Cadet, Paris, under the Grand Master-ship of Prince Murat V, Le Monde Illustre´ (No. 12, 4 July 1857); Svolopoulos, Constantin, ‘L’initiation de Mourad V a` la franc-maconnerie par Cl. Scalieri: aux origins du mouvement libe´ral en Turquie’, Balkan Studies, 21/2 (1980), pp. 441 – 57. Armenians were a strong contingent: Constitution, Statuts et Re`glements Generaux de L’Ordre Maconnique en France, Traduit en Langue Arme´nienne (Paris, 1874). An Armenian lodge named Ser was established in Constantinople in 1866, recognized by the Grand Orient de France. Nalbandian, Louise, The Armenian Revolutionary Movement: The Development of Armenian Political Parties Through the Nineteenth Century (Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1963), p. 75.
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78. Strauss, Johann, ‘Who Read What in the Ottoman Empire (19th –20th Centuries)’, Middle Eastern Literatures, 6/1 (2003), p. 53; Haniog˘lu, S¸u¨kru¨, A Brief History of the Late Ottoman Empire (New York: Princeton University Press, 2008), p. 100. 79. Zack, Joel A., et al., The Historic Synagogues of Turkey (Istanbul: American Sephardi Association, Go¨zlem Gazetecilik Basın ve Yayın AS¸, 2008). 80. Tanpınar states that Beyog˘lu had become the centre for representatives of European work (Avrupakarı), such as tailors, and traders of furniture. He asserts that the move of the imperial palace to Dolmabahce represented ‘Muslim Istanbul’ moving towards this activity in Beyog˘lu. Tanpınar: XIX. Asır Tu¨rk Edebiyatı Tarihi, p. 128. 81. Sakaog˘lu, Necdet, ‘Record of the Royal Wedding During the Tanzimat Period’, in Ersu Pekin (ed.), National Palaces (Ankara: TGNA Press, 1992), pp. 168– 73. 82. Vernoit, Stephen, Occidentalism: Islamic Art in the Nineteenth Century, Nasser D. Khalili Collection of Islamic Art, vol. 23 (London: Nour Foundation in association with Azimuth Editions and Oxford University, 1997), p. 79. 83. Rogers, J.M., Empire of the Sultans: Ottoman Art from the Khalili Collection (London: Nour Foundation, 2002), p. 81. 84. Renda: ‘Propagating the Imperial Image’, p. 454. 85. Abdul-Aziz (Paris, 28 June 1867), booklet in British Library (no author or page numbers). 86. Collas: La Turquie En 1864, pp. ix – xi. 87. Ibid., p. 15. 88. National Archives, PRO 30/22/90, Bulwer to Lord Russell, 19 March 1862, Constantinople, p. 62. 89. National Archives, PRO 30/22/90, Bulwer to Lord Russell, 28 May 1862, Constantinople, p. 116. 90. National Archives, PRO 30/22/90, Bulwer to Lord Russell, 21 May 1862, Constantinople, p. 103. 91. Deringil: The Well-Protected Domains, p. 152; Anderson: Imagined Communities, p. 27. 92. National Archives, FO 78/2010, 29 May 1867. 93. National Archives, FO 78/2010, 10 June 1867. 94. Pamukciyan: Biografileriyle Ermeniler, pp. 42 – 6, Sebuh Manas painted Abdu¨laziz in 1868. 95. Germaner, Semra and Inankur, Zeynep, Orientalism and Turkey (Istanbul: Turkish Cultural Service Foundation, 1989), p. 91. 96. O¨zendes, Engin, Abdullah Fre`res: Ottoman Court Photographers (Istanbul: Yapı Kredi, 1998). 97. Ersoy, Ahmet, ‘On the Sources of the “Ottoman Renaissance”: Architectural Revival and its Discourse During the Abdu¨laziz Era (1861 – 76)’ (PhD dissertation, Harvard, 2000), pp. 369– 70; O¨ner, Sema, ‘The Role of the Ottoman Palace in the Development of Turkish Painting Following the Reforms of 1839’, in Ersu Pekin (ed.), National Palaces (Ankara: TGNA Press, 1992), pp. 58 – 77. 98. Deringil: The Well-Protected Domains, p. 153. 99. Ibid., p. 154. 100. Salaheddin Bey, La Turquie a` l’Exposition universelle de 1867 (Paris: Hachette, 1867); C¸elik, Zeynep, Displaying the Orient: Architecture of Islam at Nineteenth-Century World’s Fairs (Berkeley, Los Angeles and Oxford: University of California Press, 1992), p. 39. 101. C¸elik: Displaying the Orient, p. 39. 102. De Launay et al.: Usul-u Mimar-i Osmaniye. 103. Ersoy, Ahmet, ‘Sartorial Tribute to Late Tanzimat Ottomanism: The Elbise-i ‘Osmaniye Album’, Muqarnas, vol. 20 (2003), pp. 187– 207. 104. Hamdi, Osman and De Launay, Marie, Les Costumes Populaires en Turquie en 1873 (Istanbul, 1873), pp. 5 – 6. 105. Hamdi et al.: Les Costumes Populaires, p. 58. 106. Ibid., p. 282. 107. De Launay, et al.: Usul-u Mimar-i Osmaniye, p. 16. 108. Ibid., p. 16. It is not clear who the Rafael is referred to in the text. Perhaps they did not want to name a contemporary.
NOTES TO PAGES 112 –114
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109. De Launay, et al.: Usul-u Mimar-i Osmaniye, p. 16. 110. Ersoy: ‘On the Sources of the “Ottoman Renaissance”’, p. 311. 111. Necipog˘lu, Gu¨lru and Bozdog˘an, Sibel, ‘Entangled discourses: scrutinizing Orientalist and Nationalist legacies in the architectural historiography of the Lands of Rum’, Muqarnas, vol. 24 (2007), p. 3. 112. Ersoy, Ahmet, ‘Architecture and the Search for Ottoman Origins in the Tanzimat Period’, Muqarnas, vol. 24 (2007), p. 117. 113. Ersoy does mention this engagement of Armenians in romantic Ottomanism but the rise of nationalism is seen as the general development within the Armenian community. Ersoy: ‘On the Sources of the “Ottoman Renaissance”’, pp. 193– 5. 114. Ersoy: ‘On the Sources of the “Ottoman Renaissance”’, p. 99; Oscanyan, C. and Asnavur, Serovpe, Handbook to the Oriental and Turkish Museum, St George’s Gallery, Hyde Park Corner (London: W.J. Golbourn, 1854) and Oscanyan, The Sultan and His People: Illustrated by a Native of Turkey ¨ nver Ru¨stem for drawing my attention to these (New York: Derby and Jackson, 1857). I thank U sources, also mentioned in Ersoy. 115. Ersoy: ‘On the Sources of the “Ottoman Renaissance”’, pp. 193– 4; Pamukciyan, Kevork, ‘Osmanlı Do¨neminde Istanbul Sergilerine Katılan Ermeni Ressamlar’, Tarih ve Toplum, 14 (80) (Aug, 1990), pp. 34 – 41; Ave´dissian, Onnig, Peintres et sculpteurs arme´niens du 19ie`me sie`cle a nos jours (Cairo, 1959), pp. 399– 400. 116. Ersoy: ‘On the Sources of the “Ottoman Renaissance”’ p. 195; O¨z: Istanbul Camileri, vol. 2, p. 72. 117. O¨z: Istanbul Camileri, vol. 1, p. 149, states that the architect of the Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque was Montani, an Italian. Eldem, Halil Edhem, Nos Mosque´es de Stamboul, tr. E. Mamboury (Stambul: Librairie Kanaat, 1934), p. 131. Ersoy states that because construction documents show that the architects were Serkis and Agop Balyan, Montani was the painter. Ersoy: ‘On the Sources of the “Ottoman Renaissance”’, p. 180. 118. Ersoy: ‘On the Sources of the “Ottoman Renaissance”’ pp. 98 – 9. 119. BBK, HR.TO, 464/57 1878.9.8 120. Rogers: Empire of the Sultans, pp. 82, 94; Rogers, Michael, ‘A Vakıfname of Pertevniyal Valide Sultan (d.1883) in the Khalili Collection, MS969.’ 121. In Paris, the Baˆtiments Civils, regulated the construction of state buildings, for instance, it proscribed a cellular plan system for prisons. Van Zanth, David, Building Paris. Architectural Institutions and the Transformation of the French Capital 1830–1870 (Cambridge: CUP, 1994), pp. 60–1. 122. ‘Quatreme`re de Quincy wrote, “A palace is thus an edifice which should elevate itself above ordinary houses and distinguish itself above them by the several means that architecture can employ to give every (construction) the degree of richness and splendour that is appropriate.” Blondel specified these in his Cours.’ Van Zanth: Building Paris, pp. 74 – 5. 123. Bergdoll: European Architecture 1750– 1890, p. 20. 124. Ibid., p. 20. 125. Tug˘lacı, Pars, Osmanlı Mimarlıg˘ında Batılılas¸ma Do¨nemi ve Balyan Ailesi (Istanbul: Inkilap ve AKA Kitapevleri, 1981), p. 149. 126. Tug˘lacı: Osmanlı Mimarlıg˘ında Batılılas¸ma, p. 157. 127. Somel, Selcuk Aks¸ın, The Modernization of Public Education in the Ottoman Empire 1839– 1908: Islamization, Autocracy and Discipline (Leiden: Brill, 2001), pp. 2 – 3. 128. Tug˘lacı: Osmanlı Mimarlıg˘ında Batılılas¸ma, pp. 162– 3. 129. Ibid., p. 141. BBK, C.AS, D:1011, G:44296, 1266.L.29/1850, Salaries of the School of Engineering by Karapet. 130. Tug˘lacı: Osmanlı Mimarlıg˘ında Batılılas¸ma, pp. 164– 5. 131. Ibid., p. 150. 132. Ibid., p. 152. 133. Zeynep C¸elik emphasized the clearing of areas around the historic monuments as following the empire model of Hausmann, but earlier examples can be seen such as the Panthe´on.
220
134. 135. 136. 137.
138. 139. 140. 141. 142.
143. 144.
145. 146. 147. 148. 149. 150. 151. 152. 153. 154. 155. 156. 157. 158. 159.
NOTES TO PAGES 114 –117 Garrioch, David, Neighbourhood and Community in Paris 1740 – 1790 (Cambridge: CUP, 1986), p. 213. National Archives, FO78/611 Vol 1. Constantinople, 22 February 1845, no. 11, to the Earl of Aberdeen from the Consul at Constantinople, pp. 84 – 5. Tug˘lacı: Osmanlı Mimarlıg˘ında Batılılas¸ma, pp. 65 – 127. Ibid., pp. 172– 3. Ibid., p. 195. That Go¨ksu Pavilion was a work of Karapet and Nigog˘os is testified to by Alfred de Caston. De Caston, Alfred, Constantinople en 1869, histoire des hommes et des choses par A. de Caston (Paris: J. Kugelmann, 1868), pp. 268– 9. That Ihlamur was a work of Karapet and Nigog˘os is testified to by Krikor Odian. Meg˘u 10 March 1858. Tug˘lacı: Osmanlı Mimarlıg˘ında Batılılas¸ma, p. 58. Ibid., pp. 187– 93. Ibid., pp. 174– 5. Bergdoll: European Architecture 1750– 1890, pp. 241– 67. The Concert of Europe referred to the balance of power in Europe from the Napoleonic Wars to World War I, dominated by Austria, Prussia, the Russian Empire, Great Britain and France. After its role in the Crimean War in 1855, the Ottoman Empire participated with France and Britain in an alliance against Russian aggression. Mu¨ftu¨ler-Bac, Meltem, Europe in Change: Turkey’s Relations with a Changing Europe (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1997), p. 28. Kuban states that the Ope´ra of Garnier does not approach the eclecticism of Dolmabahce. Kuban: Ottoman Architecture, pp. 623– 4. Aoki-Girardelli suggested that the ‘Babel’s Tower’ milieu around the palace gave rise to architectural works in contrast with European ideas of bon gout and the rules of the Beaux-Arts. Aoki, Miyuki, ‘Le´on Parville´e: Osmanlı Modernles¸mesinin Es¸ig˘inde Bir Fransız Sanatcı’ (PhD dissertation, Istanbul Technical University, 2001), p. 113. Eldem, Sedat Hakkı, Tu¨rk Evi Plan Tipleri (İstanbul Teknik Üniversitesi, Mimarlık Fakültesi, 1954) and Ko¨¸skler ve Kasırlar (Istanbul: Devlet Güzel Sanatlar Akademisi, 1964). Tug˘lacı: Osmanlı Mimarlıg˘ında Batılılas¸ma, pp. 62 – 4. BBK, HHd. 15181, 1271.5.07/1854, Salaries for the Tes¸vikiye Mosque. Necipog˘lu, Gu¨lru, The Age of Sinan: Architectural Culture in the Ottoman Empire (London: Reaktion, 2005), p. 35. O¨z: Istanbul Camileri, vol. 2, p. 51. Himmet-i Abdu¨lmecid Han vakıf-ı hayr-i umur. Ortako¨y’de camii abad etti bi-bedel. Batur, Afife, ‘Ortako¨y’, Istanbul Ansiklopedisi, vol. 6 (1993– 4), pp. 141– 3. Akbayar, Nuri, ‘Tes¸vikiye’, Istanbul Ansiklopedisi, vol. 7 (1993– 4), pp. 256– 7. O¨z: Istanbul Camileri, vol. 2, p. 66. Eser-i Evkaf-ı Mecidiye-i Mahalle-i Cedide-i Tes¸vikiye. O¨z: Istanbul Camileri, vol. 2, pp. 45 – 6. Sahib zaman-ı sultanat-Hakan-ı ahd-i madelet Yaptı saray nezdine bir cami-i vala zehi Bu¨nyanını tahsın idu¨b Ziver didi tarihini Abdu¨lmecid Han cami-i ali bina kıldı behi (1848). The distribution of the mosques is shown by petitions submitted at the Selamlık in the catalogue (BBK) Bab-ı Alı Evrak Odası Sadaret Evrakı Amedi Kalemi Analitik Envanteri (h.1268 –75/1851 – 9), vol. 2. Deringil: The Well-Protected Domains, pp. 16 –17. Mrs Max Mu¨ller described the Selamlık including the number of guards, the type of carriage and the tea given to onlookers. Max Mu¨ller, Mrs, Letters of Mrs Max Mu¨ller (London: Longmans, 1897), pp. 34 – 47. Kuban: Ottoman Architecture, p. 634, on the Dolmabahce Mosque; Deringil: The Well-Protected Domains, p. 23; Kuran, Aptullah, ‘The Evolution of the Sultan’s Pavilion in Ottoman Imperial Mosques’, Islamic Art, vol. 4 (1990 – 1), pp. 281– 301. Tug˘lacı: Osmanlı Mimarlıg˘ında Batılılas¸ma, p. 286. Batur, Afife, ‘Bahriye Nezareti Binası’, Istanbul Ansiklopedisi, vol. 1 (1993), pp. 549– 51.
NOTES TO PAGES 117 –127
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160. Tug˘lacı: Osmanlı Mimarlıg˘ında Batılılas¸ma, p. 271. Cengiz Can states that it was built by French architect Bourgeois. Can, Cengiz, ‘Harbiye Nezareti Binası’, Istanbul Ansiklopedisi, vol. 3 (1993 – 4), pp. 550– 1. However it shows similarities to Balyan works. 161. Foucault, Michel, ‘Governmentality’, in James D. Faubion (ed.), Power (New York: The New Press, 1994), p. 206. 162. Tug˘lacı: Osmanlı Mimarlıg˘ında Batılılas¸ma, p. 207. 163. Ibid., pp. 178– 9. 164. Payment to Serkis Bey for the S¸ale Pavilion: BBK, HH.d, G:27639, 1298.S.10/1881. 165. Tug˘lacı, Pars, The Role of the Balian Family in Ottoman Architecture (Istanbul: Yeni C¸ıg˘ır, 1990), p. 395. 166. Shaw, Wendy M.K., Possessors and Possessed. Museums, Archaeology, and The Visualization Of History In The Late Ottoman Empire (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2003), p. 141. 167. Photographs of the C¸ırag˘an and Beylerbeyi by Sebah and Joaillier, Abdullah Fre`res and Kargopoulo are common. On the Abdu¨lhamid II album: Gavin, C., et al., ‘Imperial Self-Portrait: The Ottoman Empire as Revealed in Sultan Abdul Hamid II’s Photographic Albums’, Journal of Turkish Studies, vol. 12 (1988). 168. Kuban: Ottoman Architecture, p. 624. 169. BBK, HR.TO, D:464, G:57, 1878.9.8. Most of the documents about Aziziye concern upaid fees such as this petition from Savriyo and Euge`ne Maillard. 170. Flood: The Great Mosque of Damascus, p. 209. 171. Ersoy: ‘On the Sources of the “Ottoman Renaissance”’, pp. 323–30. 172. Whittick, Arnold, Symbols, Signs and Their Meaning (London: Leonard Hill, 1960), p. 349. 173. Aslanog˘lu, I˙nci, ‘Reviving and Interpreting Ottoman Features in Early Twentieth Century Mosque Architecture’, in M. Kiel, N. Landman and H. Theunissen (eds), EJOS (Proceedings of the 11th International Congress of Turkish Art, Utrecht, Netherlands, 23 – 28 August 1999), IV (2001), pp. 1 – 15. 174. Allom, Thomas, The Polyorama, or Constantinople, The Bosphorus and Dardanelles (London: W.S. Johnson, 1850), p. 17. 175. De Nerval: Voyage en Constantinople, vol. 2, p. 216. 176. Meg˘u, 10 March 1858, Special Issue on Nigog˘os Balyan. 177. Krauss, Johann Ulrich, Ornamental Cartouches (New York: Dover, 1988). 178. Meg˘u, 10 March 1858, Special Issue on Nigog˘os Balyan. 179. Gautier: Constantinople, p. 303. 180. De Nerval: Voyage en Constantinople, p. 366. 181. Lamartine: Voyage en Orient, vol. 3, p. 274. The citationary aspect of travellers’ accounts is well known thanks to the work of Edward Said. Said, Edward, Orientalism (London: Penguin Books Ltd., 1978/2003); Mortimer, Mildred, ‘Re-Presenting the Orient: A New Instructional Approach’, The French Review, vol. 79 (2005), pp. 296– 312. For a comparison of Chateaubriand, Lamartine and Nerval, see Thompson, C.W., French Romantic Travel Writing: Chateaubriand to Nerval (Oxford: OUP, 2012). 182. Said: Orientalism, p. 177. 183. Gombrich, E.H., The Story of Art (London: Phaidon, 1950/2000), p. 325. Describing Renaissance Venice, Gombrich states: ‘the style there acquired a new gaiety, splendour and warmth which evoke. . . the grandeur of the great merchant cities of the Hellenistic period, of Alexandria or Antioch.’ I thank Philip Jacks for first drawing my attention to the relationship of the Dolmabahce to Venice. 184. Gautier: Constantinople, pp. 299–306. 185. Ruskin, John, The Stones of Venice, edited and abridged by J.G. Links (London: Pallas Editions, 1853/2001), p. 171. 186. Ruskin: The Stones of Venice, pp. 3 – 4. 187. Ibid., p. 9. 188. Necipog˘lu: The Age of Sinan, p. 82.
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NOTES TO PAGES 128 –143
189. Howard, Deborah, ‘Venice Between East and West: Marc Antonio Barbaro and Palladio’s Church of the Redentore’, Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians, 62(3) (2003), pp. 306– 25. 190. Schulz, Juergen, ‘La piazza medievale di San Marco’, Annali di architettura, 4(5) (1992 – 3) pp. 134– 56. Sansovino created his own version of a forum in Venice and modelled the facade of his library on ancient theatre architecture. Johnson, Eugene J., ‘Jacopo Sansovino, Giacomo Torelli, and the Theatricality of the Piazzetta in Venice’, Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians, 59 (4) (2000), pp. 436–53; Lotz, Wolfgang, ‘The Roman Legacy in Sansovino’s Venetian Buildings’, Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians, 22 (1) (1963), pp. 3 – 12. 191. Bergdoll: European Architecture 1750– 1890, pp. 228– 9. 192. Ibid., p. 230. 193. Bunel: Je´rusalem, La Cote de Syrie et Constantinople en 1853, p. 375. 194. Necipog˘lu, Gu¨lru, Architecture, Ceremonial and Power: The Topkapı Palace in the Fifteenth and Sixteenth Centuries (Cambridge, Mass: MIT Press, 1991), p. 8. 195. Deringil: The Well-Protected Domains, p. 26. 196. Gautier: Constantinople, p. 303. 197. Armstrong, Isobel, Victorian Glassworlds: Glass Culture and the Imagination (1830 – 1880) (Oxford: OUP, 2008). 198. Bergdoll: European Architecture 1750–1890, p. 245. Although wheel-outlined Diocletian windows also occur in Venice: in Le Zitelle (1580–86) of Palladio for instance, it was more likely that the progress of the Gare de l’Est was invoked by these unprecedentedly large windows of the Dolmabahce Mosque. 199. Gautier: Constantinople, p. 303; De Nerval: Voyage en Constantinople, p. 366; Lamartine: Voyage en Orient, vol. 3, p. 274. 200. C¸elik: Displaying the Orient, p. 39. 201. De Launay, Marie, et al., Usul-u Mimar-i Osmaniye/L’Architecture Ottoman (Istanbul: Tarih Aras¸tırmalar Vakfı, T.C. Ku¨ltu¨r Bakanlıg˘ı, 1873/1998), p. 16. 202. Ersoy: ‘On the Sources of the “Ottoman Renaissance”’, p.308. Ersoy, for instance, distances the Ottoman architecture of the Tanzimat from ‘the strictly dynastic and archaeologically correct framework prescribed in the technical section of the Usul’. 203. For the plates see: De Launay, et al.: Usul-u Mimar-i Osmaniye. 204. Jacob, Dominique (ed.), Pascale Coste, Toutes Les Egypte (Marseille: Editions Parenthe`ses, 1998). 205. Saner, Turgut, 19. Yu¨zyıl Istanbul Mimarlıg˘ında ‘Oryantalizm’ (Istanbul: Pera Turizm Yayınları, 1998); Yenis¸ehirliog˘lu, Filiz, ‘Continuity and Change in Nineteenth-Century Istanbul: Sultan Abdu¨laziz and the Beylerbeyi Palace’, in Doris Behrens-Abouseif and Stephen Vernoit (eds), Islamic Art in the Nineteenth Century: Tradition, Innovation and Eclecticism (Leiden: Brill, 2006), pp. 57 –89. 206. Tug˘lacı, The Role of the Balyan Family, p. 318. 207. Yenis¸ehirliog˘lu: ‘Continuity and Change’, p. 75.
Chapter 6 The Networks Behind the Imperial Building Works of the Tanzimat 1. Hill, Rosemary, God’s Architect: Pugin and the Building of Romantic Britain (London: Penguin Books, 2007), p. 378. 2. This relates to Marx and his ‘forces of production’. 3. For the Hırka-i S¸erif, the first register of estimates is sealed by Abdu¨lhalim Efendi but the following one by members of the Building Council. For the Mecidiye at C¸ırag˘an, the register of estimates is sealed by the representatives of the Building Council (13 seals). For the Ortako¨y, the first estimates are sealed by the Building Council and the second estimates are sealed by Abdu¨lhalim Efendi. BBK, Evd 13385, 14477, 14933, 14961, and 14962 from 1864/1848 on Hırka-i S¸erif; BBK, HHd. 17640, 1264.R.19-1264.Z.14/1848, concerning the Mecidiye Mosque. The first estimates for the
NOTES TO PAGES 143 –146
4. 5. 6.
7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12.
13. 14. 15. 16. 17.
18. 19.
20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31.
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Ortako¨y is: BBK, Evd 13463, dated 1264.N.23-1264.N.24/1848; the second estimates are: BBK, Evd 13498, dated 1264.Z.3/1848. Can, Selman, ‘Osmanlı Mimarlık Tes¸kilatının XIX. Yu¨zyıldaki Deg˘is¸im Su¨reci ve Eserleri ile Mimar Seyyid Abdu¨lhalim Efendi’ (PhD dissertation, Istanbul University, 2002), p. 20. The Evkaf I˙ns¸a ve Tamirat Mu¨du¨rlu¨g˘u¨’s documentation deals with individual rebuilding and repair projects from the late nineteenth century, such as the Su¨leymaniye. These are not organized in notebooks but individual sheets that include estimates. Few have a signature or seal. The Evkaf Defterleri for the Dolmabahce Mosque are: BBK, Evd. 15220, 15232, 15235, 15237, 15243, 15260, 15269, 15295, 15370, 15373, 15377, 15385, 15391, 15394 (16766, 14569). Those for the Ortako¨y are much more numerous and include: Evd. 13463, 13498 (both estimates) and stretch from Evd. 13654 to 15403. BBK, I.DH, D: 558, G:38819, 1283.S¸.29/1867. BBK, HHd. 15181, 1271/1854, Tes¸vikiye. BBK, HHd. 12192, 1278.L.25/1862, Yıldız. BBK, HHd. 11629, no date. BBK, I.DH, D:558, G:38820, 1283.S¸.29/1867. BBK, A.MKT. MVL, D:61, G:11, 1269.Ca.14/1853, Ortako¨y payment; A.) MKT.NZD. D:65, G:43, 1269/1853, payment to Artin and Istefan for Ortako¨y Mosque; A.) MKT. NZD. D:84, G:15, 1269.L.20/1853, salaries for Ortako¨y Mosque; A.) MKT.NZD, D:95, G:4, 1270.M.12/1853, estimates for Ortako¨y Mosque taken again; A.) AMD, D:20, G:76, 1266.Za.24/1850, salaries for Ortako¨y Mosque. BBK, Evd.13768, 1265.S¸.25-1265.L.24 /1849, concerning the Dolmabahce Mosque. Go¨ncu¨, Cengiz, ‘Dolmabahce Sarayı’nın Mimarı Kadrosu I˙ns¸a Su¨resi ve Maliyeti U¨zerine Yeni Tespitler’, Milli Saraylar, vol. 4 (2007), p. 60. Go¨ncu¨: ‘Dolmabahce Sarayı’, p. 61. BBK, HHd. 17640, 1264.R.19-1264.Z.14/1848, concerning the Mecidiye Mosque. The names are faint. They include: Al-Seyyid Ahmed Atullah (Aza), Al-Seyyid Ahmed Yasim (Aza), Osman Tevfik (Cami-i S¸erifin Memuru), Al-Seyyid Mehmed S¸ems al- Din (Aza), Al-Seyyid... (Aza), Al-Seyyid Hu¨seyin Securi (Kaymakam?), Vekil Mustafa,... NTT, KX, IX. Two more seals in Arabic letters: Atifet Al-Seyyid Mustafa (Aza) and Mehmed Necip (Aza). BBK, Evd 13385, 14477, 14933, 14961, and 14962 from 1864/1848 on Hırka-i S¸erif. Fourteen seals are given (many of which are barely legible): Salih (ser aza), Al-Seyyid Mehmed Abd Ras¸id (aza), Al-Seyyid Feruh... (aza), Ali Salimi (aza), Rifaat (aza),... (this is illegible but is in Armenian letters), Istefan Kalfa (aza), illegible but resembles that of Artin Kalfa, Panayot Velid-i Hristo, Todori Kalfa, Neccar Krikor, Bali Yorgi, Ku¨cu¨k Ohannes Kalfa, the final seal seems to state (ք and ծ) ‘k’ and ‘dz’ in Armenian letters and ‘Minas’ in Ottoman, as well as the capital letters (Մ and Ն)/‘m’ and ‘n’. BBK, HHd. 15181, dated 1271.S.07/1854, labelled ‘Nis¸antas¸ı Tes¸vikiye Camii ins¸aatının bazı masarıfatı’. BBK, ID, D:304, G:19254, 1270.L.10/1854. BBK, Evd 13463, dated 1264.N.23-1264.N.24/1848, salaries. BBK, Evd 13498, dated 1264.Z.3/1848, estimates. BBK, Evd 14058, accounts for week 64 of building the Ortako¨y Mosque. There were several Raufs in senior positions at the time. One was director of buildings at the time of the construction of the Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque. BBK, Evd 14058. For instance BBK, Evd 14058, for week 64. ‘mu¨teahhidi bulunan Artin Kalfa marifetiyle ins¸asına’ (the building work with Artin Kalfa in the position of supervisor), BBK, I.MSM, D:26, G:703, date: 1264.L.17/1848. BBK, A)MKT.NZD, D:65, G:43, dated 1269/1852. BBK, A.MKT.NZD, D:15, G:50, 1266.Za.26/1850. BBK, A.)MKT.NZD, D:95, G:4, 1270.M.12/1853.
224
NOTES TO PAGES 146 –151
32. BBK, Evd. 14273, Ortako¨y Mosque. 33. Pamukciyan, Kevork, Zamanlar, Mekanlar, Insanlar (Istanbul: Aras, 2003), pp. 141– 2; Hayasdan, 1846 issue 153; Bog˘osyan, Rahip Yeprem, Balyan Kertasdanı (Vienna: Mekhitaryan Tparan, 1981), pp. 99 – 100. 34. Lu¨tfi Efendi, Ahmed, Vak’a-Nu¨vis Ahmed Lu¨tfi Efendi Tarihi (Ankara: TTK, 1894/1988), vol. 2, p. 163 35. Salaries for the repairs of the mosque in front of the Saadabat Pavilion: BBK, HHd. 13867 1280. L03-1280.L.30/1864. 36. BBK, HHd. 21267, 1280.L.05-1280.Z.05/1864. Building work for the mosque, oven and press in the garden of the Saadabat Pavilion. 37. BBK, HH.d 27792, 1283.M.15/1866, salaries for the appendages of the Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Fountain in Aksaray. 38. Thanks to George Dedes for pointing this spelling out. 39. Hristaki Zografos was a Greek banker and owner of C¸icek Pasajı in Beyog˘lu; whether he was any relation is not clear. It was a common name. 40. Colonas, Vassilis, Greek Architects in the Ottoman Empire (Athens: Olkos, 2005), p.43; Kuruyazıcı, Hasan, ‘Istanbul’un Unutulmus¸ Mimarları’, Istanbul, 28 (1999), pp. 70 – 3. Greek kalfas are also referred to concerning projects by Alexandre Vallaury. Artan, Tulay, ‘Topkapı Sarayı Ars¸ivindeki Bir Grup Mimari C¸izimin Du¨s¸u¨ndu¨kler’, Topkapı Sarayı Mu¨zesi Yıllık, 5, (1992), p. 18 mentions the Ebniye-i Seniyye Kalfası Nikolaki and Ebniye-i Anbarı Mu¨hendisi Yorgaki. 41. Go¨ncu¨, Cengiz, ‘Beylerbeyi Sarayı’nın Ins¸a Su¨reci, Tes¸kilatı ve Kullanımı’ (PhD dissertation, Istanbul University, 2006), p. 23. 42. Go¨ncu¨: ‘Beylerbeyi Sarayı’, p. 19; Terzi, Arzu, ‘XIX. Yu¨zyıl Sonlarında Ebniye-i Seniyye I˙daresi (Go¨revleri ve Tes¸kilatı)’, Tarih Enstitu¨su¨ Dergisi, no. 16 (1998), pp. 109–19. 43. Go¨ncu¨: ‘Beylerbeyi Sarayı’, p. 19. 44. Ibid., p. 22. 45. Ibid., p. 21. 46. Ibid., p. 25. 47. Ibid., p. 26. 48. Ibid., p. 27. 49. TPA D8219; DSCN3218; DSCN3219; DSCN3217. 50. TPA D8219, Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque, Kes¸f-i Evvel Defteri. 51. TPA DSCN3216. 52. TPA DSCN3217; DSCN3218. 53. Tug˘lacı does not give specific information about this document. 54. Tug˘lacı, Pars, The Role of the Balian Family in Ottoman Architecture (Istanbul: Yeni C¸ıg˘ır, 1990), appendix, ‘Document 138/B’, p. 724. 55. Tug˘lacı: The Role of the Balian Family, appendix, ‘Document 138/F’, p. 724. 56. Ibid., p. 118. 57. Ibid., p. 118. 58. Ibid., p. 180. 59. BBK, Evd.15053. 60. Bayram, Sadi and Tu¨zen, Adnan, ‘Ayazma Camii ve I˙ns¸aat Defteri’, Vakıflar Dergisi, vol. XXII (1991), pp. 199–288. For the Su¨leymaniye there was a bigger team. Barkan, O¨mer Lu¨tfi, Su¨leymaniye Cami ve I˙mareti I˙ns¸aatı 1500–1557 (Ankara: TTK, 1972), vol. 1, p. 119 and pp. 185–330. 61. BBK, Evd 15220, Week 19. 62. BBK, Evd 15232, Week 20. 63. BBK, Evd 15235, Week 21. 64. BBK, Evd 15260, Week 28. 65. BBK, Evd 15373, Week 43. 66. BBK, Evd 15295, Week 35. 67. BBK, Evd 15373, Week 43. 68. BBK, Evd 15394, Week 49.
NOTES TO PAGES 151 –155
225
69. BBK, Evd 15235, Week 21. 70. From week 19 until the last defter of week 49 we see: yazıcıyan, neccaran, ressaman, tas¸cıyan, duvarciyan, hammalan, harckaran (mortar-maker), rencperan, lag˘ımcıyan, kececiyan, mag˘azacıyan, mutemeden. Others come and go. 71. Redhouse states that errekes¸ were a maker or seller of saws. Armenians such as Vortik Kemhaciyan built a reputation using steam-powered saws. It is likely that errekes¸ refers to this technique, and bıckıcı to simple sawyers. Redhouse, Sir James, New Redhouse Turkish – English Dictionary (Istanbul: Redhouse Press, 1890/1968). 72. Sevadjian, Marie, L’Amira, Traduit de l’Arme´nien Par Fre´de´ric Macler (Paris: Librairie Ernest Leroux, 1907/1927), pp. 24 – 5. 73. Barnes states that it had been so easy to embezzle from the Ministry because the mu¨du¨rs placed their paperwork in disordered piles. Mustafa Nuri Pas¸a suggests that the state office was responsible for the decline of the Evkaf in the nineteenth century. Barnes, Robert John, ‘Evkaf-ı Hu¨mayun: Vakıf Administration under the Ottoman Ministry for Imperial Religious Foundations 1839– 1875’ (PhD dissertation, University of California, 1980), pp. 147– 8; Mustafa Nuri Pas¸a, Netayic u¨lVukuat (Ankara: TTK, 1877/1992), p. 101. 74. BBK, I.DH. D:444, G:29339, 1276.Ra.09/1860. 75. BBK, HR.MKT, D:62, G:46, 1269.Za.10/1852, the payment of Ikseno Koniko. 76. Go¨ncu¨: ‘Beylerbeyi Sarayı’, p. 31. 77. Ibid., p. 34. 78. The craftsmen listed for the Kag˘ıthane Mosque are: neccaran (kalfa): 20 x 25 ¼ 500, neccaran: 16 x 540 ¼ 8,640, dog˘ramacı: 16 x 151 ¼ 2,416, duvarcı: (?) -x 218 ¼ 2,488 (?), hamamcı: 16 x 12 ¼ 192 and rencperan: 419 x 8 ¼ 3,352. 79. BBK, HH.d. 13867; HH.d. 21267 on the Kag˘ıthane Mosque in Saadabat. 80. Tug˘lacı: The Role of the Balian Family, appendix, ‘Document 138/I’, p. 725. 81. Ibid., p. 726. 82. Ibid., p. 726. 83. BBK, HHd. 12177, 1277.S.09-1278.R.04/1861, goods brought from Europe for Bes¸iktas¸ Coastal Palace. 84. Tas¸delen, O¨mer and Gu¨ru¨n, Aydan, Dolmabahce Palace (Istanbul: TBMM Department of National Palaces, 2006), p. 24. 85. BBK, HHd. Fezhane ve Fabrikalara ait Defterleri, Defter No.18909, 1272.R.01-1272.R.01/1856, goods from the Hereke Textile Factory purchased for Bes¸iktas¸ Coastal Palace. 86. Tas¸delen et al: Dolmabahce Palace, p. 24. 87. Tug˘lacı: The Role of the Balian Family, p. 175. 88. Ibid., p. 116. 89. Ibid., p. 116. 90. Mubayaat in the case of the Su¨leymaniye accounts refers to wholesale purchases relating to materials ordered and paid for, but not necessarily used. Rogers, Michael, ‘The State and the Arts in Turkey Part 2: The Furniture and Decoration of Su¨leymaniye’, IJMES, 14 (1982), p. 284. 91. Such as BBK, Evd. 14961 and Evd. 14962. 92. BBK, HHd. 17640, 1264.R.19-1264.Z.14/1848, concerning the Mecidiye Mosque. 93. BBK, HHd.15181, 1271/1854, Tes¸vikiye Mosque. 94. Cengiz Kırlı argues that ethnic separation of the labour force was related to migrations to the capital and the localities in which these immigrants settled. Kırlı, Cengiz, ‘A Profile of the Labour Force in Early Nineteenth Century Istanbul’, International Labour and Working-Class History, no. 60 (Fall, 2001), pp. 125– 40. 95. Rosenthal, Steven T., The Politics of Dependency: Urban Reform in Istanbul (Connecticut: Greenwood, 1980), p. 13. 96. The necessities for the Ayazma Mosque were: kereste, ahen (including kiris¸/rafters), mesamir, seng (ku¨feki, moloz, mermer), ketan (flax), zivana (coverings for tubes), kiris¸ bas¸ları (ends of rafters), tug˘la, kirec, horasan, alcı, mermer su¨tu¨n bas¸lıkları ve diplikleri icin lazime-i do¨kmeci (required foundry items for
226
97. 98. 99.
100. 101. 102. 103. 104. 105. 106. 107. 108. 109. 110. 111. 112. 113. 114. 115. 116. 117. 118. 119. 120. 121. 122. 123. 124.
125. 126. 127. 128. 129. 130. 131. 132.
NOTES TO PAGES 155 –162 the marble ends and capitals for columns), masarifat-ı mu¨teferrika, as well as extra charges for supervision and travel: u¨cret-i mavene, u¨cret-i hammaliye. See Bayram and Tu¨zen: ‘Ayazma Camii ve I˙ns¸aat Defteri’. For the Su¨leymaniye see: Barkan: Su¨leymaniye Cami, vol. 1, pp. 330– 93. Barkan: Su¨leymaniye Cami, vol. 1, p. 351. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 356. This is likely to have been the same company that became known as S¸ahbazian. Eldem, Edhem, ‘Bricks and Tiles: The Modern Building Site in Istanbul at the Turn of the Twentieth Century’, (paper delivered at XIV. Symposium on Ottoman Material Culture, Bog˘azici/Bosphorus University, Istanbul, 4 – 5 June, 2010). BBK, Evd.13761. BBK, Evd.13763. BBK, Evd.13758. Go¨ncu¨: ‘Beylerbeyi Sarayı’, p. 37. Ibid., p. 36. Ibid., p. 36. Tug˘lacı, Pars, Osmanlı Mimarlıg˘ında Batılılas¸ma Do¨nemi ve Balyan Ailesi (Istanbul: Inkilap ve AKA Kitapevleri, 1981), p. 35. Go¨ncu¨: ‘Beylerbeyi Sarayı’, p. 47. Ibid., p. 47. BBK, HH.d. 13867. BBK, HHd. 21267. Tug˘lacı: The Role of the Balian Family, ‘Document 138’, p. 723. TPA D3217. TPA DSCN3218. Ibid. Ibid. TPA 8219-14. Tug˘lacı: The Role of the Balian Family, ‘Document 138/C’, p. 724. Ibid. Ibid., ‘Document 138/D’, p. 724. Ibid., ‘Document 138/E’, p. 724. Levant Herald, 25 January 1873. The Oriental Advertiser/Le Moniteur Oriental, Thursday, 10 May 1891. Rogers: ‘The State and the Arts’, p. 284. ‘When the author mentioned to build a rıhtım (literally a quay) he means to build a concrete floor construction... We understand that the piles had iron shoes, a technique which is known since the Roman period. Most probably the upper part of the piles was let to stay under the water to prevent decaying, but the top of the foundation floor was over the water level.’ Kuban, Dog˘an, ‘Notes on the Building Technology of the 18th Century. The Building of the Mosque of Nur-u Osmaniye at Istanbul. According to the Tarih-i Camii Nuru Osmani’, International Congress of the History of Turkish Islamic Science and Technology, 14–18 September 1981 (Istanbul: Istanbul Teknik Üniversitesi, 1981), p. 277. BBK, Evd. 15234. BBK, Evd. 15236. BBK, Evd. 15234 onwards. BBK, Evd. 15236, 15396, 15401, and 15403. BBK, Evd. 15396. These names reoccur. BBK, Evd. 14273, 14274, etc. For instance, BBK, A)DVN., D:110, G:68, 1272.Ca.05/1856, concerning Istefan and Apostol; BBK, A)MKT.NZD, D:170, G:95, 1272.Ra.25/1856, also concerning Istefan and Apostol; BBK A)MKT.NZD, D:173, G:26, 1272.Ra.25/1856, Mecidiye Barracks and Beykoz Pavilion. Baghdiantz McCabe, Ina, ‘Merchant Capital and Knowledge: The Financing of Early Printing Presses by the Eurasian Silk Trade of New Julfa’, in T.F. Mathews and Roger S. Wieck (eds),
NOTES TO PAGES 162 –167
133. 134. 135. 136. 137. 138. 139. 140. 141. 142. 143. 144. 145. 146. 147. 148. 149. 150. 151. 152. 153. 154. 155. 156. 157. 158. 159. 160. 161. 162. 163. 164. 165.
227
Treasures in Heaven: Armenian Art, Religion and Society, papers delivered at the Pierpont Morgan Library at a Symposium organized by Thomas F. Mathews and Roger S. Wieck, 21 – 22 May 1994 (NY: Pierpont Morgan Library, 1998), pp. 60 –1. Arzruni, Krikor, Les Arme´niens De Turquie: Leur Situation Economique Par Le Dr Grigor Arzruni, Extrait Du Journal D’Orient, De Vienne, 2eme Anne´e, Nos. 39, 40, 41, 42 (Vienne: Imprimeur-Editeur, J.C. Fischer & Cie, 1881), p. 17. BBK, HR.MKT, D:62, G:62.1269.Za.12/1852. BBK, I.MSM, D:26, G:703. 1264.L.17/1848. BBK, I.DH, D:177, G:9557. 1264.S.01/1848. BBK, A.) MKT.UM, D:32, G:3. 1266.Za.11/1849. BBK, A.) MKT. NZD, D:18, G:2. 1267.M.01/1850. BBK, A.)MKT.MVL, D:140, G:8. 1278.B.24/1861. BBK, A.)MKT.MVL, D:140, G:8. 1278.B.24/1861. BBK, I. MVL, D:511, G:23047. 1281.M.24./1864. Istefan is spelt with an ‘f’ in Greek and ‘p’ (Istepan) in Armenian. BBK, A) MKT.NZD, D:188, G:14. 1272.Za.10/1855; BBK, A.)DVN.MHM, D:17, G:57. 1272/1855. BBK, H.H.d. 12192, 1278.L.25/1861. BBK, A.) MKT. NZD, D:154, G:17, 1271.L.24/1854. BBK, A) MKT.NZD, D:170, G:95. 1272.Ra.03/1855; A) DVN. D:110, G:68. 1272.Ca.05/1855. BBK, A.) MKT.NZD, D:124, G:91, 1271.R.06/1854. BBK, A.)MKT.NZD, D:173, G:26. 1272.Ra.25/1855. BBK, A)DVN, D:134, G:62, 1275.S.04/1858 debts owed to Nigog˘os. Nalbantog˘lu, Gu¨lsum Baydar, ‘The Professionalization of the Ottoman –Turkish Architect’ (PhD dissertation, Berkeley, 1989), p. 164; Levant Herald, 9 October 1861, p. 1422. Go¨ncu¨: ‘Dolmabahce Sarayı’, p. 60. National Archives, FO 78/651, 15 March 1846, p. 62. Go¨ncu¨: ‘Dolmabahce Sarayı’, p. 61. BBK, HR.MKT, D:62, G:46, 1269.Za.10/1852, payment for Greek sawyer. Bunel, Louis, Je´rusalem, La Cote de Syrie et Constantinople en 1853 (Paris: Sangnier et Bray, 1854/ Elibron Classics, 2005), p. 371. Tug˘lacı: The Role of the Balian Family, p. 118. Se´chan, Charles, Souvenirs d’un homme de the´aˆtre 1831– 55 (Paris: Calmann-Levy, 1855), preface by Adolphe Badin, p. xiv. The report of Zariffi is: BBK, HR.TO, D:438, G:78, 1861.11.30. BBK, HR.TO, D:436, G:39, 1861.02.13. BBK, HR.TO, D:464, G: 57. 1878.9.8. TPA D3217. BBK, HR.TO, D:464, G:57, 1878.9.8. Ibid. BBK, HR.TO, Paris, Sira:1375, D:83, G:19, 1888.05.20 The I˙rade-i Senniye was approved by the Sadaret. BBK, HR.TO, Paris. Sira: 201, D:71, G:8, 1856.02.09, the Mıgırdic affair.
Chapter 7 The Downfall of Serkis Balyan 1. Sevadjian, Marie, L’Amira, Traduit de l’Arme´nien Par Fre´de´ric Macler (Paris: Librairie Ernest Leroux, 1907/1927), p. 176. ‘A misunderstanding existed between Armenians and Turks. Sultan Aziz had been deposed, the condition of the Armenians was completely changed under the new sultan, and the capital began to take on a sad air.’
228
NOTES TO PAGES 167 –170
2. Cezar, Mustafa, Sanatta Batıya Acılıs¸ ve Osman Hamdi (Istanbul: Is¸ Bankası Yayınları, 1971), p. 117. 3. S¸enyurt, Oya, Osmanlı Mimarlık O¨rgu¨tlenmesinde Deg˘is¸im ve Do¨nu¨¸su¨m (Istanbul: Dog˘u Kitabevi, 2011), p.189. 4. Brunswick, Benoit, La Banqueroute Turque Par M. Benoit Brunswick Auteur Des Etudes Pratique Sur La Question D’Orient (Paris: Ernest Leroux, 1875), p. 12. 5. De Girardin, Emile, La Haute De L’Europe (Paris: E. Plon Et Cie, Imprimeurs-Editeurs, 1876), p. x. 6. BBK, HR.TO, D: 464, G:57, 1878.9.8. 7. BBK, Y.PRK.A, D:1, G:98, 1295.R.3/1878. 8. BBK, Y.EE, D:72, G:20, 1297.M.07/1879. 9. BBK, I.MMS, D:65, G:3089, 1297.Ra.07/ 1880. Cezar: Sanatta Batıya Acılıs¸, p. 116 (cites BBK Dahiliye I˙radeleri no: 67260 dated 24 s¸evval 1298/1881). 10. Ko¨ker, Osman, 100 Yıl O¨nce Ermeniler (Istanbul: Birzamanlar Yayıncılık, 2005), p. 92. 11. Cezar: Sanatta Batıya Acılıs¸, p. 117 (cites BBK Meclis-i Mahsus I˙radeleri no: 2797, and Dahiliye I˙radeleri no: 63427). 12. Cezar: Sanatta Batıya Acılıs¸, p. 117 (cites BBK Dahiliye I˙radeleri Mabeyn-i Hu¨mayun Bas¸katiplig˘i Sadaret dated 23 safer 1297/6 January 1880 no: 64783). 13. S¸enyurt: Osmanlı Mimarlık, p. 189 (cites BBK YEE. D:110, G:18). 14. Ibid., p. 191 (cites BBK, Y.PRK.HH, D:13, G: 18). 15. Ibid., p. 191 (cites BBK, Y.PRK.HH. D:13, G:22). 16. Ibid., p. 192, does not refer to a separate document for this point. 17. Ibid., p. 192 (cites BBK, Y.PRK.AZJ. D:13, G:44). 18. Ibid., p. 192 (cites BBK, Y.PRK.AZN. D:2, G:49). 19. BBK, Y.PRK.AZN, 2/22, 1301.S.25/1884. 20. BBK, Y.PRK. H.H. D:13, G:18, 1301.Ca.29/1884. 21. BBK, Y.PRK, HH., D:13, G:22, 1301.C.19/1884. 22. BBK, Y.PRK.ZB, D:2, G:73, 1301.L.29/1884. 23. BBK, Y.PRK.AZN, D:2, G:49, 1303.L.17/1886. 24. BBK, Y.PRK, AZJ. D:13, G:44, 1305.Za.29/1887. 25. BBK, HR.TO, D:83, G:19, 1888.05.20. 26. Tug˘lacı, Pars, The Role of the Balian Family in Ottoman Architecture (Istanbul: Yeni C¸ıg˘ır, 1990), p. 433. 27. Cezar: Sanatta Batıya Acılıs¸, p. 117. 28. BBK,Y.PRK.ML, D:12, G:51, 1308.Za.27/1890. 29. BBK, Y.E.E., D:5, G:36, 1308.Z.30/1890. 30. BBK, Y.A.HUS, D:252, G:59, 1309.Ra.15/1892. 31. BBK, Y.A.HUS, D:253, G:139, 1309.R.27/1892. 32. S¸enyurt: Osmanlı Mimarlık, p. 131. 33. BBK, Y.MTV, D:54, G:38, 1309.S.09/1892. 34. Lima, Vincent, ‘The Evolving Goals and Strategies of the Armenian Revolutionary Federation 1890– 1925’, Armenian Review, 44 (2) (1991), p. vii. 35. Such as Uras, Esat, Tarihte Ermeniler ve Ermeni Meselesi (Ankara: Yeni Matbaa, 1950), pp. 581– 2 and Gu¨ru¨n, Kamuran, Ermeni Dosyası (Ankara: TTK, 1983), pp. 176– 92. 36. Libaridian, Gerard J., ‘What Was Revolutionary about Armenian Revolutionary Parties’, in Ronald Grigor Suny, Fatma Mu¨ge Go¨cek and Norman M. Naimark (eds), A Question of Genocide. Armenians and Turks at the End of the Ottoman Empire (Oxford: OUP, 2011), p. 82. 37. Fortna, Benjamin C., ‘The Reign of Abdu¨lhamid II’, in Res¸at Kasaba (ed), Cambridge History of Turkey, Volume 4, Turkey in the Modern World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008), p. 55. 38. Nalbandian, Louise, The Armenian Revolutionary Movement. The Development of Armenian Political Parties Through the Nineteenth Century (Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1963), p. 29. 39. Libaridian, Gerard, J., ‘Nation and Fatherland in Nineteenth-Century Armenian Political Thought’, Armenian Review, 36 (1983), pp. 75 – 8.
NOTES TO PAGES 170 –174
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40. Libaridian, Gerard, J., ‘The Changing Armenian Self-Image in the Ottoman Empire: Rayahs and Revolutionaries’, in Richard G. Hovannisian (ed.), The Armenian Image in History and Literature (California: Udena Publications, Malibu, 1981), pp. 155– 8. 41. Koptas¸, Murat, ‘Armenian Political Thinking in the Second Constitutional Period: The Case of Krikor Zohrab’ (MA dissertation, Bosphorus University, 2005), pp. 33 –4. Authors that show a class split in their fiction include Arpiar Arpiarian (1852 – 1901), and Yeruhan (1870– 1915). 42. Suny, Ronald Grigor, Looking Towards Ararat: Armenia in Modern History (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1993), pp. 19 – 20. 43. Nalbandian: The Armenian Revolutionary Movement, pp. 104– 8. 44. National Archives, FO/78/4334, Constantinople, 6 December, 1890, no. 526m, p. 272. 45. Fortna: ‘The Reign of Abdu¨lhamid II’, p. 55. 46. Kirakossian, Arman J., The Armenian Massacres 1894– 1896. British Media Testimony (Dearborn, Michigan: University of Michigan, 2008), pp. 440– 1. 47. BBK, HR.SYS, D:2858, G:72, 1896.01.05; BBK.HR.SYS, D:2858, G:76, 1896.01.12; BBK, HR. SYS, D:2858, G:76, 1896.01.16; BBK, HR.SYS, D:2859, G:16, 1896.02.21; BBK, HR.SYS, D:2859, G:54, 1896.05.22. In 1893, Damadyan was held in prison in Constantinople. In 1895, he organized a demonstration at the Bab-ı Ali. He went to Bulgaria and Romania in 1896 and then moved to London, finally settling in Egypt. 48. BBK, HR.SYS, D: 2858, G:21, 30.11.1895; Osmanlı Belgelerinde Ermeniler (Ankara: Bas¸bakanlık Basımevi, 1994), vol. 38, ‘Belge 36’. 49. Damadyan, Mihran, Hatıraat Kitaplıg˘ı. Bir Ermeni Komiticenin I˙tirafları, translated and edited by Haluk Selvi (Istanbul: Timas¸ Yayınları, 2009), p. 65. 50. Kirakossian: The Armenian Massacres, pp. 440– 1 cites the article ‘Armenia and the Powers: From Behind the Scenes’, The Contemporary Review, vol. 69, April 1896, pp. 628– 43. 51. Ke´vorkian, Raymond, The Armenian Genocide. A Complete History (London and New York: IB Tauris, 2011), p. 11. 52. BBK, Y.PRK, TKM, D:33, G:91, 1312.B.01 (1895). 53. National Archives, FO78/4334. ‘Some individuals have used an idea contrary to the interests and salvation of the faithful Armenian community, they have dared, here and there, to make publications and allow illegal proceedings, in order to break the bonds of loyalty, which have bound, ab antiquo, the Armenians to the Ottoman Empire of Eternal Duration, and they have thus endeavoured to mislead simple ones. These individuals form a tiny minority of the Armenian community and they do not have any quality nor any right to proceed on behalf of the community.’ 54. Tug˘lacı: The Role of the Balian Family, p. 433. 55. BBK, I.MMS, D:65, G:3089, 1297.Ra.07/1880. 56. BBK, DH.MKT, D:463, G:10, 1319.Z.21 /1901. 57. BBK, I.BH, D:3,1318.S.1/1900 and BBK, DH.MKT, D:2591, G:119, 1319.Za.14/1901. 58. BBK. I.HUS, D:93, 1319.L.15/1901. 59. BBK,DH.MKT, D:2581, G:84, 1319.L.19/1901. 60. BBK, YA.HUS, D:432, G:63, 1320.R.20/1902. 61. BBK, DH.MKT, D:556, G:47, 1320.Ca.5/1902. 62. Tug˘lacı: The Role of the Balian Family, p. 528. Ownership of Serkis Bey Island was issued by the Third Civil Law Court on 19 July 1944 with a reference number 1087/1944, and a title deed dated 22 May 1945, and certified by Beyog˘lu’s Fifth Notary’s Office. 63. BBK, A)MKT.NZD, D:105, G:34, 1270.Ra.18/1854. This document tells about Mıgırdic’s silk factories in Bursa, Bilecik, and Mudanya. 64. BBK, A)MKT.MVL, D:70, G:97, 1271.C.05/1855. This document tells of the referral of the S¸irket-i Hayriye to Mıgırdic, which was an Ottoman company that ran boats around Constantinople. 65. Destrilles, M., Confidences sur la Turquie (Paris: E. Dentu, 1855), pp. 49 – 50. 66. Kabadayı, Mustafa Erdem, ‘Mkrdich Cezayirliyan Or The Sharp Rise and Sudden Fall of An Ottoman Entrepreneur’ in Suraiya Faroqui and Gilles Veinstein (eds), Merchants in the Ottoman Empire (Paris, Louvain, Dudley, MA: Peeters, 2008), p. 293.
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67. Hill, Rosemary, God’s Architect. Pugin And The Building Of Romantic Britain (London: Penguin Books, 2007), pp. 439– 40. 68. Hill: God’s Architect, p. 480. 69. Ibid., p. 92. 70. U¨ngo¨r, Ug˘ur U¨mit and Polatel, M., Confiscation and Destruction: The Young Turk Seizure of Armenian Property (London and New York: Continuum, 2011).
Chapter 8 Conclusion 1. Ersoy, Ahmet, ‘Aykırı Binanın Saklı Kalfası: Hamidiye Camisi Ve Nikolaos Tzelepis (Celepis)’, in Hasan Kuruyazıcı and Eva S¸arlak (ed.), I˙stanbul’un Rum Mimarları (Istanbul: Zog˘rafyon Lisesi Mezunları Derneg˘i, 2010), pp. 104– 17. 2. Du¨ndar, Abdu¨lkadır, Ars¸ivlerdeki Plan ve C¸izimler Is¸ıg˘ı Altında Osmanlı I˙mar Sistemi (XVIII ve XIX Yu¨zyıl) (Ankara: T.C. Ku¨ltu¨r Bakanlıg˘ı, 2000). 3. Gurekian, Armen, Le´on Gurekian Architetto (Treviso: G. S. Stampa di Asolo, 2010), p. 5. 4. Tug˘lacı, Pars, The Role of the Balian Family in Ottoman Architecture (Istanbul: Yeni C¸ıg˘ır, 1990); Carmont, Pascal, Les Amiras, Seigneurs de l’Arme´nie Ottomane (Paris: Editions Salvator, 1999). 5. Neyzi, Leyla, Ben Kimim? Tu¨rkiyede So¨zlu¨ Tarihi, Kimlik ve O¨znellik (I˙stanbul: I˙letis¸im, 2004), p. 10. 6. Garo Balyan (1878 – 1960) built in Cairo many works including: Amr Ibrahim Villa (1922), the Museum of Ceramics, the Union Building (1925), the Armenian Catholic Church (1925), the Armenian Orthodox Church (1928), the Matossian Building (1928), and the Yacoubian Building (1934). He published Arab Architecture, the History of Islamic Architecture in Egypt (1935). There was an exhibition of his works at The American University in Cairo in 1995. 7. Goodwin, Godfrey, A History of Ottoman Architecture (London: Thames and Hudson, 1971/1987), p. 419. 8. Mills, Amy, ‘Narratives in City Landscapes: Cultural Identity in Istanbul’, Geographical Review, 95(3) (July 2005), pp. 441– 62; ‘The Place of Locality for Identity in the Nation: Minority Narratives of Cosmopolitan Istanbul’, IJMES, 40(3) (August 2008), pp. 383– 401. 9. Mills: ‘Narratives in City Landscapes’, pp. 449– 53. 10. In recent years, tolerance or hos¸go¨ru¨ has been a watchword for Turkish academics and political actors (usually with ties to the AKP, the ruling party in Turkey, which is of a moderate Islamist nature and pursues a neo-Ottoman vision) when referring to non-Muslim relations. For instance, Hu¨lagu¨, Metin, M., Hos¸go¨ru¨ toplumunda Ermeniler. Osmanlı toplumunda birlikte yas¸ama sanatı: Tu¨rk Ermeni ilis¸kileri o¨rneg˘i (Kayseri: Erciyes U¨niversitesi, 2007). Tolerance, although of course preferable to persecution, denies the non-Muslim his/her right to power. 11. Eldem, Edhem, ‘Discovering “Other” Architects’, in Hasan Kuruyazıcı (ed.), Armenian Architects of Istanbul In The Era of Westernization (Istanbul: International Hrant Dink Foundation Publications, 2010), pp. 12 – 17. 12. Go¨ktu¨rk, Deniz, Soysal, Levent and Tu¨reli, Ipek, Orienting Istanbul: Culture Capital of Europe (Abingdon and New York: Routledge, 2010). This work draws attention to Istanbul’s attraction for the international audience, but does not dwell on the issue of minority communities. 13. Kraidy, Marwan M., Hybridity, or the Cultural Logic of Globalization (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 2005), preface, p. vii. 14. Ag˘os, 10 December 2010. 15. Papazian, Dennis and Ottenbreit, Gerald, Armenian Studies Chairs, Programs, and Related Graduate Studies 1969 – 2003 (Michigan: Armenian Research Center University of Michigan-Dearborn, 2003). 16. Wharton, Alyson, ‘Identity and Style: Armenian-Ottoman Churches in the 19th Century’, in Mohammad Gharipour (ed), Sacred Precincts: The Religious Architecture of Non-Muslim Communities Across the Islamic World (Leiden: Brill, 2014).
NOTES TO PAGES 180 –184
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17. Aslanog˘lu, I˙nci, ‘Reviving and Interpreting Ottoman Features in Early Twentieth Century Mosque Architecture’, in M. Kiel, N. Landman and H. Theunissen (eds), EJOS (Proceedings of the 11 th International Congress of Turkish Art, Utrecht, Netherlands, August 23 – 28, 1999), IV (2001), p. 6. Tekeli, I˙lhan and Ilkin, S., Mimar Kemalettin’in Yazdıkları (Ankara: Şevki Vanlı Mimarlık Vakfı, 1997); Yıldırım, Yavuz, Mimar Kemalettin ve Birinci Ulusal Mimarlık Do¨nemi (Ankara: ODTÜ Mimarlık Fakültesi Basım İşliği, 1981). 18. Ersoy: ‘Aykırı Binanın Saklı Kalfası’, pp. 108– 12. 19. Thanks to George Dedes for drawing my attention to the article in Taraf, 9 December 2010. 20. Cherry, Deborah, ‘The Ghost Begins by Coming Back: Maud Sulter’s image-making with Jeanne Duval in Mind’, paper given at the conference ‘Revival: Utopia, Identity, Memory’, Courtauld Institute of Art, London, 23 – 24 November 2012 (proceedings to be published by Courtauld Books Online in 2015). 21. Derrida, Jacques, Specters of Marx: The State of the Debt. The Work of Mourning and the New International (New York: Routledge, 1994). 22. Frenkel Greenleaf, Monika, ‘Pushkin’s “Journey to Arzrum”: The Poet at the Border’, Slavic Review, 50/4 (1991), p. 948. 23. Bloxham, Donald, The Great Game of Genocide: Imperialism, Nationalism, and the Destruction of the Ottoman Armenians (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005). 24. Strapelias, He´le`ne, ‘L’opinion publique francaise et la question arme´nienne sous la Troisie`me Re´publique’, in Claire Mouradian (ed.), Arme´nie une passion francaise. Le mouvement arme´nophile en France 1878– 1923 (Paris, Magellan & Cie – Muse´e De Montmartre, 2007), pp. 41 – 54. 25. Lamartine, Alphonse de, Voyage En Orient Par Alphonse de Lamartine 1832– 33 (Bruxelles, Hauman et Comp., 1838), vol. 3, p. 85, on the chief of the Armenians of Damascus, and p. 260, on the Armenians of Constantinople. 26. Armstrong Kelly, George, ‘Alphonse de Lamartine: The Poet in Politics’, Daedalus, 116 (2), (spring 1987), pp. 157– 80. 27. Thompson, C.W., French Romantic Travel Writing: Chateaubriand to Nerval (Oxford, OUP, 2012), pp. 220– 3. 28. Dell Upton emphasizes the colonial intention of Lamartine. Upton, Dell, ‘Starting from Baalbek: Noah, Solomon, Saladin, and the Fluidity of Architectural History’, Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians, 68/4 (December 2009), pp. 457– 65; Said, Edward, Orientalism (London: Penguin Books Ltd., 1978/2003), p. 179. 29. Lamartine, Alphonse de, History of Turkey by A. de Lamartine, vol. 1 (New York, Appleton & Company, 1855), pp. 9 – 12. 30. ‘Les Arme´niens ont mis leur signature sur de magnifiques mosque´es, sur d’incomparable faı¨ences, sur les plus fins mimbers d’e´be`ne . . . De notre temps meˆme, non seulement sur les palais qui parent les rives du Bosphore, mais nos mausole´es, sur les ornements de nos ste`les fune´raires, sur les turbans dont nous nous coiffons, sur les montres e´mailles que nous portons, partout, sur toutes choses, nous voyons le sceau de leur talent artistique.’ Tchobanian, Archag, La Nation Arme´nienne et son œuvre culturelle (Paris: Imprimerie Artistique, 1945), p. 15.
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INDEX
Abbas Hilmi Pas¸a, 162 Abbas, Shah, 98 Abbasids, 33, 73 Abdullah Fre`res, 112, 117 Abdu¨laziz, Sultan, 5, 11, 36, 41, 42, 46, 52, 60, 76, 92, 98, 111– 12, 113– 14, 115, 116– 18, 118, 120, 121, 122– 3, 124–5, 134– 40, 167, 168 Abdu¨lhalim Efendi, 20– 1, 21, 43, 143, 144, 145, 147 Abdu¨lhamid I, Sultan, 31, 32, 99, 102 Abdu¨lhamid II, Sultan, 6, 8, 31, 46, 117, 166, 167, 168 Abdu¨lmecid, Sultan, 5, 9, 15, 16, 28– 9, 39, 39– 40, 60, 66, 76, 84, 98, 109– 11, 113– 16, 118, 120, 123, 124, 125, 125– 33, 135, 136, 173, 177 Abrahamian, Levon, 61– 2 Adile Sultan, 50 Adile Sultan Palace, Kandilli, Istanbul, 46, 115, 117 Agop, Gu¨llu¨, 82, 110 Agop Kalfa, 102 Ag˘ayekyan, Ohannes, 60 Ag˘ır, Aygu¨l, 69, 77 Ag˘os (newspaper), 22 Ahmed Ag˘a, porter, 146 Ahmed Efendi, 27
Ahmed Pas¸a, 169 Ahmet III, Sultan, 29, 30, 31 Aivaz (Ayvazian), Alexandre, 91 Ajemiyan, Ohannes, 150 Akabi Hikayesi (Vartan Pas¸a), 96 Akaretler (row houses), Bes¸iktas¸, Istanbul, 47– 8, 87, 88, 92, 113, 116, 165– 6, 168, 169 Akc am, Taner, 7, 8 Akhtamar, Cathedral of the Holy Cross, 62, 73 Akif Efendi, 35 Akozan, Feridun, 20, 21 Alaadin Bey Mosque, Bursa, 118 alafranga (Frankish or European style) fashions, 1, 76, 96, 97 Alboyadjian, Archag, 12, 30, 58, 72 ale’l-hesab (payment on account), 160– 1 Alhambra, Granada, 82, 83 Ali Ag˘a, bina emini, 27 Ali Ag˘a, mutemed, 146 Ali Ag˘a, mutemed dig˘er, 146 ‘Ali, fourth caliph, 11 Ali Pas¸a, Grand Vizier, 5 Ali Rıza Efendi, 38 Allom, Thomas, 119 amiras (Armenian community leaders) Balyan family as, 1 benevolence of, 57 –61 downfall of, 12
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THE ARCHITECTS OF OTTOMAN CONSTANTINOPLE
amiras cont. opposition to the Young Armenians, 12 positioning of, 13 see also churches, rebuilding of Ananya of Hasko¨y, 60 Ananyan, Paul, 78 Anasyan, H.S., 11 Anderson, Benedict, 97 Andre´, Louis-Jules, 91– 2, 94 Anesti Kalfa, 194– 5n49 Ani, 36 Cathedral, 62, 64 Antep, 72 anthropology, 14 anti-Orientalists, 6, 10 Apogom, Mag˘azacı, 155 Apostol, hoca, 48, 161, 163 Arabian style, 9, 93, 94, 117, 123, 125, 135, 140 Arabog˘lu Melidon Kalfa, 27, 73 Arabyan Matbaası, 58 Ararat Society (Araradyan Ingerutyun), 82 Arc du Carrousel, Louvre, Paris, 106, 120, 125, 132 archaeology, 3, 14 Arif Efendi, 149 Aristarki family, 78 arma Christi motif, 65 Arma-i Osmani (Ottoman coat of arms), 36, 105, 131 Armas¸ Monastery, Izmit, 57, 73 Armenian Catholics, 17 Armenian Committee, London, 171 Armenian Genocide (1915), 7 –8 Armenian language, 16 Armenian National Constitution (1863), 12, 16, 39 Armenian Orthodox Church, 11, 56, 57, 61– 2, 82 Armenian– Ottoman identity current situation, 3
politics and the rebuilding of churches under Karapet Balyan, 61–75, 170– 3 availability of materials and craftsmen, 73 – 4 church architecture, 72 the church as the locus of the Armenian community, 61 –2 churches rebuilt in the early 1830s, 67 – 8 imagery in rebuilt churches, 66– 7 medieval models of Armenian architecture and decoration, 62– 6 social capital and rebuilding churches, 74– 5 Surp Asdvadzadzin Church, Bes¸iktas¸, Istanbul, 68– 72, 69, 71 The Armenian Question, 7 Armenian script, symbolic use of, 66, 67, 70, 72 Armenians 1890s revolts and demonstrations, 7, 171 arts and crafts renaissance, 59– 61, 65 as bankers, 33, 44, 48– 9, 58, 59 as builders, 142 community leaders see amiras elite craftsmen and proto-companies, 159 genius figures, 2 –3, 14 –19 as Masons, 110 millet system and, 11 networks, 101– 2 in the Ottoman Empire, 3, 10– 13 as painters, 36 separatist movement, 170– 3 trades dominated by, 155 see also Armenian – Ottoman identity; kalfas Armenians in the Service of the Turkish State (C¸ark), 16 Armeno –Turkish language, 11 Arseven, Celal Esad, 9
INDEX
Arshaguniats Armenian School, Dolapdere, Istanbul, 96 Ars¸aluys Araradyan (newspaper), 77, 79 Artinian, Vartan, 12 arts and crafts, encouragement of Armenian, 59– 61 Aryan architecture, 62 Arzruni, Krikor, 36, 52, 83, 162 ASALA, 18 Aslanian, Sebouh David, 101 Aslanog˘lu, I˙nci, 180 Assmann, Aleida, 3, 10 Astuacatur (Bodgan Saltanov), 73 Atatu¨rk, 17 Atlas (magazine), 21 Austria, Ottoman trade with, 6 Awakening (Zartonk), 58, 76 Ayazag˘a Kasrı, Maslak, Istanbul, 40, 117 ¨ sku¨dar, Istanbul, 84, Ayazma Mosque, U 104, 123, 151 Aynalı Kavak Sarayı, Hasko¨y, Istanbul, 102 Ayvazian, A.H., 90, 91 Ayvazovski, Gabriel, 37 Ayvazovski, Hovhannes, 37, 42, 96, 112, 135, 172 Azaryan, Manuk, 78 Aziziye Mosque, Konya, 122, 133 Aziziye Mosque project, Mac ka, Istanbul, 47– 8, 113, 117, 165– 6, 167– 8, 169 Aznavur, Serovpe, 113 Bacon, Francis, 6 Baghdad, 73 Baghdad Railway, 89 Bagratid dynasty, 73 Bakırko¨y Church, Istanbul, 70 Bali, imperial architect, 29, 30 Balkans, uprisings in, 7 Balyan family as amiras, 31, 58 backlash against, 168
253
canon and archive, 1 – 4 characteristics, 101, 133, 181 education, 1, 2, 8, 38, 76– 80 employment of kalfas, 162– 3 as genius figures, 2, 14 –19 as imperial architects, 29 – 55 activities, 43 –9 creative roles, 50– 4 salaries, 49 – 50 status, 29– 43 nineteenth-century beginnings, 13 – 14 origins, 29 –32 patronage, 159 recent history, 177 and the renouvellement de´coratif, 83 – 5 significance of, 8 ties to official bodies, 149– 50 Turkish critiques of the role of, 1 – 2, 19 –23 see also individual members The Balyan Family (Bog˘osyan), 17 Balyan, Agop critiqued, 19 drawings, 177 education and influences, 1, 16, 37, 40, 76 –7, 79, 98 goods purchased for imperial works, 157– 8 patronage, 16, 82 projects, 40, 148 salaries, 40, 50 salons, 82 status, 16, 35, 36, 37, 39– 41, 40, 42, 147 use of craftsmen and labourers, 153–4 Balyan, Andon, 77 Balyan, Garo, 177 Balyan, Karapet Amira as an amira, 1, 56– 61 building projects, 37, 39, 40, 60, 87, 104– 5, 114, 144, 145 Mausoleum of Mahmud II, 105– 7
254
THE ARCHITECTS OF OTTOMAN CONSTANTINOPLE
Balyan, Karapet Amira cont. Surp Asdvadzadzin Church, Bes¸iktas¸, Istanbul, 64, 65, 66, 66– 7, 68– 72, 69, 71 Cemaran School venture, 59, 82 clock tower anecdote, 177 dispute concerning, 164– 5 family, 49 as a favoured courtier, 14– 15 as a hoca, 48 –9 as imperial architect, 43– 5, 73– 4 importance of guilds to, 58– 9 mobility of, 102 networks, 143– 4 patronage, 15, 16, 60– 1, 151– 2 portrait in Surp Asdvadzadzin Church, Bes¸iktas¸, Istanbul, 67 rebuilt churches and Armenian– Ottoman identity under, 61– 75 salaries, 49 – 50, 143, 144, 145 status, 35, 36– 8, 40, 42, 55, 64, 73, 96, 147, 152, 162, 164– 5 working practices efficiency strategies, 160– 1 goods purchased, 154– 7 style, 125, 133 use of craftsmen, 150– 3, 163– 4 Balyan, Krikor Amira as an amira, 1 building projects, 34– 5 early works, 102 modern architecture of the 1820s, 102– 4 Nusretiye Mosque, 103–4, 103 drawings, 35 exile, 29, 33, 35 as an imperial architect, 31 as a kalfa, 27 mobility of, 102 patronage, 16 salaries, 35, 50 status, 18, 32– 6, 33, 35, 37, 147
Teotik on, 15 tombstone, 16, 32, 35 Balyan, Le´on Nigog˘os, 55, 79, 80 Balyan, Makruhi (wife of Serkis), 68 Balyan, Nigog˘os Bey, 98 as art advisor to Abdu¨lmecid, 16 building projects, 37, 38–9, 40, 81, 81–2, 83, 84, 87, 127, 144, 145, 147 as drafter of the Armenian Constitution, 16, 39 drawings, 19 education and influences, 1, 16, 76– 7, 79, 108, 129 educational reforms, 81 Krikor Odian on, 125 membership of the Ararat Society, 82 networks, 143– 4 obituary, 86 salaries, 144 status, 35, 38– 9, 96 working practices efficiency strategies, 160– 1 goods purchased, 154– 7 style, 125, 133 support for stone-carving, 152 use of craftsmen, 150– 3, 163– 4 Balyan, Pascal, 86 Balyan, Senagir (Senekerim), 34 Balyan, Serkis Bey building projects, 41, 42, 60, 72, 92, 93, 94, 113, 148, 149, 157, 170 industrial works and functionalist building types, 87 –90 critiqued, 19– 20, 22 death, 173 downfall, 8, 20, 47, 165–6, 167–73, 171 aftermath, 173– 5 drawings, 19, 54 education and influences, 1, 16, 52, 53, 76 –8, 79, 80, 86– 7, 87– 9, 90– 2, 92 –3, 98, 108, 122, 129, 134 exile to Paris, 166, 169 as imperial architect, 45– 8
INDEX
interview with Alfred de Caston, 30 Le Monde Illustre´ article, 94– 5 Mayr Araksi (folk song), 15 Ottoman Company for Public Works, 46, 47, 53, 88, 89 – 90 pardon, 166 patronage, 68, 96 political involvement, 171– 2 property, 168, 169, 173– 5 salaries, 42, 50, 144, 148 School of Arts and Industry proposal, 46, 50 – 4, 89, 92 status, 16, 19, 21, 32, 35, 36, 37, 40, 41 –3, 55, 147, 168 working practices goods purchased, 157– 8 use of craftsmen, 153– 4 views, 113 Balyan, Simon, 49, 55 bankers (sarrafs), Armenians as, 33, 44, 48– 9, 58, 59 Bardızban (Bardızbanıyan), Hac adur, 38, 77, 79, 86, 87 Barnes, John, 6 Baronian, Hagop, 86, 172 baroque style, 84, 97, 101, 103, 103– 4, 114, 117, 123, 129, 133, 139, 181 Barry, Charles, 174 Barsoumian, Hagop Levon, 12 – 13, 75 basilica plan, 63, 68 Batumi, 171 Baudelaire, Charles, 183 Bayburt, 29, 30 Bayezid II, Sultan, 25 Bedros Kalfa, 149 Behzad, Umed Ohannes, 60, 61, 72, 151– 2, 161, 182, Pl.1 Belenko¨y, 30 Berberyan, Avedis, 14 – 15, 36 Bergdoll, Barry, 98 Berlin, Congress of (1878), 7 Bes¸iktas¸ Palace, Istanbul, 48 Bes¸iktas¸liyan, Mıgırdic , 82
255
Beykoz Pavilion, Istanbul, 115 Beylerbeyi Mosque, Istanbul, 99, 103, 104 Beylerbeyi Palace, Istanbul, 22, 24, 33, 40, 46, 52, 94 – 5, 117, 119, 122, 125, 135– 7, 136, 137, 139– 40, 142, 143, 148, 152, 153, 157, 161, 176, Pl.27, Pl.28 Bezciyan, Kazaz Artin, 33, 58, 59 Bezirciyan, Sopon, 61, 150, 157, 161 Bibliothe`que Nubar, Paris, 46, 54 Bibliothe`que Sainte-Genevie`ve, Paris, 81 Bilezikciyan, guardian to Le´on Balyan, 80 The Birth of the Virgin (Ghirlandaio), 124 Blacque, Edouard, 78 Blanchet, Professor, 80 Blondel, Jacques-Franc ois, 84 Bog˘os Ag˘a, 30 Bog˘os Bey, 36 Bog˘os Nubar Pas¸a, 54 Bog˘osyan, Yeprem, 3, 17, 18, 30, 77 Bonnet, Pierre Ossian, 80 Bosnia-Herzegovina, 7 bourgeoisie, 7, 170, 171 Bourgoin, Jules, 52, 93 Bozdog˘an, Sibel, 10 Bozkurtlar (Grey Wolves), 22 Breu, Marlene R., 65, 66 Britain, Ottoman trade with, 6 British Embassy, Istanbul, 28, 29 Broadcloth Factory, Izmit, 15, 36, 38, 43– 4, 114 brooch motif, 84, 101, 124, 129, 130, 132, 133, 135, Pl.19, Pl.21, Pl.26 Brunswick, Benoit, 167 The Builder (magazine), 163 Building Council (Ebniye Meclisi), 20, 21, 27– 8, 43, 143, 145, 149 building procedures, 25, 27 – 9 Bulgaria, uprisings in, 7 Bunel, Louis, 39, 105, 131, 163– 4 Bursa, 15, 36, 93 Alaadin Bey Mosque, 118
256
THE ARCHITECTS OF OTTOMAN CONSTANTINOPLE
Bursa cont. Great Mosque, 6 Green Mosque, 94, 103, 117, 125, 126, 134, 137, 138 Bursa period architecture, 112, 122, 124– 5, 134, 135, 138, 139 Byron, Lord, 183, 184, 209n111 Byzantine style, 14, 63, 93, 128 Cafer Efendi, 26 Cairo, Mosque of Mehmed ‘Ali Pas¸a, 13, 97 Calcutta, 101 Calleja, Saverio (Savriyo Kalfa), 113 calligraphy, 104, 105, 106, 111, 113, 122, 123, 130, 135, 138– 9, Pl.2, Pl.5, Pl.12, Pl.14, Pl.26, Pl.29 Camondo, Abraham, 164 Can, Selman, 3 – 4, 20 – 1, 24, 42, 143 Canby, Sheila R., 98 Carmont, Pascal, 40, 177 Cathedral of Gregory the Illuminator, Yerevan, 63 Cathedral of New Julfa, 63 Cathedral of the Holy Cross, Akhtamar, 62, 73 Caygill, Howard, 98 Celaleddin, Mahmud, 111 Cemaran School, U¨sku¨dar, Istanbul, 51, 59, 60, 82 Cemile Sultan Palace, Salıpazarı, Istanbul, 115 Cezar, Mustafa, 17, 19 –20, 22, 32, 42, 50, 89, 167, 169 Cezayirliyan Mansion, Yeniko¨y, Istanbul, 60, 93 Cezayirliyan, Mıgırdic , 48, 49, 60, 165, 166, 173– 4, 175 Chateaubriand, Franc ois-Rene´ de, 183, 184 Chennai (Madras), 11, 101 Church of the Virgin Mary, 63 Cherry, Deborah, 183
chief architect (mimarbas¸ı), 25, 29, 32, 35, 43, 48, 49, 55, 150, 179 Chief Architect of the State (Ser Mimar-i Devlet), 19, 21, 32, 42 – 3, 47, 50, 167, 168 Chihil Sutun Palace, Isfahan, 73 Chlebowski, Stanislaw, 112 Chrismon symbol, 66 Christians / Christianity, 7, 16, 17, 111 see also Armenian Orthodox Church Church of Sts Peter and Paul, Galata, Istanbul, 29 Church of Holy Bethlehem, New Julfa, 73 Church of the Virgin Mary, Chennai (Madras), 63 churches, rebuilding of, 61– 75 the church as the locus of the Armenian community, 61– 2 Constantinopolitan Armenian–Ottoman church architecture, 72 imagery, 66– 7 medieval models of Armenian architecture and decoration, 62– 6 role of Karapet Balyan and the availability of materials and craftsmen, 73 – 4 social capital and rebuilding churches, 74 –5 Surp Asdvadzadzin Church, Bes¸iktas¸, Istanbul, 68– 72, 69, 71 ¨ sku¨dur and Surp Surp Hac U Yerrortutyun Galata, Istanbul, 67 –8 Ciceri, Pierre-Luc Charles, 202n26 Clark, Theodore Minot, 92 clock towers, 38, 81, 177 clothing reforms, 100 Collas, M.B.C., 105, 111 Concert of Europe, 115 Congress of Berlin (1878), 7 construction materials and techniques, 122– 3 The Contemporary Review, 171– 2
INDEX
contractors (mu¨teahhits), 20, 21, 26, 54, 160– 1, 162 Corinthian order, 102, 106, 119, 122, 123, 127, 130 Corot, Jean-Baptiste-Camille, 80 cosmopolitan culture, 109– 14 Coste, Pascal, 134 Council of Tendering Contracts (Meclis-i Mu¨nakasa), 28 courtyards, 84, 104, 114, 117, 118, 119, 121 The Covenant of ‘Ali, 11 crafts, 112, 113, 134 craftsmen availability of, 73– 4 elite Armenian, 159 European craftsmen and disputes, 163– 6 payment on account to chief, 160–1 types of, 25, 150– 1, 152 use of local, 150– 4 Crimean War, 110 cruciform plan, 64, 68 Crystal Palace, London, 132 cultural cleavage, 6, 9 Curzon, Robert, 13, 33, 97 Cyprus, 16 C¸ag˘layan Mosque, Istanbul see Kag˘ıthane Mosque C¸ark, Y.G., 11, 33 Armenians in the Service of the Turkish State, 16 C¸arkian, Mıgırdic , 60 C¸elik, Zeynep, 10 C¸ırag˘an Palace, Istanbul, 9, 22, 24, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 42, 43, 46, 54, 60, 81, 82 – 3, 113, 117, 119, 120, 121, 125, 135, 136, 143, 157, 159, 167, 168– 9 C¸ırag˘an Police Station, Istanbul, 87, 116 C¸ilingirian, Krikor, 82, 206n39 ¨ sku¯dar, C¸inili Valide Sultan Mosque, U Istanbul, 34
257
Dadrian, Vahakn, 7 Dadyan family, 13, 15, 16, 31, 36, 37, 58, 74– 5, 79, 101, 102 Dadyan, Arakel Amira, 72 Dadyan, Artin, 78 Dadyan, Bog˘os, 57 Dadyan, Mihran Bey, 36 Dadyan, Ohannes Bey, 36, 77, 216n41 Dadyan, Prince Mıgırdic Bey, 17 Damadyan, Mihran, 171– 2, 175, 182 Damascus, Great Mosque, 98 Danton, Georges-Jacques, 6 D’Aubignosc, L.P.B., 11 Davison, Roderic, 5, 6 De Caston, Alfred, 30, 30– 1, 33, 37, 39, 40, 41, 60 De Girardin, Emile, 167 De Lanneau, Victor, 78, 80 De Launay, Marie see Usul-u Mimari-i Osmani De Morgan, Jacques, 31, 37, 39, 83, 95 De Nerval, Ge´rard, 60, 83, 84, 98, 119, 126, 183 deed of endowment (vakıfname), 113, 134 Defterdarburnu Palace, Istanbul, 47, 170 Delacroix, Euge`ne, 183 Deringil, Selim, 100– 1 Deroyentz, 57, 58, 67 Derrida, Jacques, 183 Destrilles, M., 11, 110, 174 devs¸irme system, 22 dhimma concept, 10 – 11 Diderot, Denis, 103 Diez, Ernest, 9 Directorate of Imperial Buildings (Ebniye-i Hassa Mu¨du¨rlu¨g˘u¨), 20, 21, 27 Dolmabahc e Mosque, Bes¸iktas¸, Istanbul, 9, 44, 73, 111, 115, 119, 122, 124, 125, 132– 3, 143, 145, 151– 2, 155– 6, 161, Pl.17, Pl.18, Pl.19, Pl.20, Pl.21
258
THE ARCHITECTS OF OTTOMAN CONSTANTINOPLE
Dolmabahc e Palace, Bes¸iktas¸, Istanbul, 16, 24, 37, 38, 39, 44, 60, 61, 64, 70, 81, 83, 84 –5, 87, 93, 105, 111, 115, 119, 120, 120, 121, 122, 123, 124, 125– 32, 128, 130, 133, 135, 136, 142, 144, 150, 154, 159, 163, 164, 177, Pl.4, Pl.5, Pl.6, Pl.7, Pl.8 domed churches, 62 – 3, 64, 70, 72 domed cube style, 103, 116, 118, 132, 133, 137, 177, 181, 182 drawings, architectural, 25, 28, 35, 46 Drolling, Michel Martin, 202n26 Duban, Fe´lix, 81 Duc, Louis, 81 Durand, J.N.L., 87, 92 Durian, Petros, 82 Duthoit, Edmond, 93 Dutreux, Tony, 88 Duval, Jeanne, 183 Du¨ndar, Abdu¨lkadır, 177 Du¨zyan family, 16, 31, 101 Du¨zyan, Agop, 36 Du¨zyan, Karapet, 36 Dzarig (publication), 90 eclecticism, 9, 10, 93, 113, 117, 125, 129, 180 E´cole Centrale des Arts et Manufactures, Paris, 41, 51, 77, 78, 80, 85– 7, 89, 92, 122 E´cole des Beaux-Arts, Paris, 27, 38, 41, 60, 77, 78, 80, 81, 89, 92 – 4 E´cole Polytechnique, Paris, 30, 78, 80, 85, 86, 87, 92 Edhem, Halil, 8 – 9 Edirneli Agop Kalfa, 27 education European influence on, 1, 2, 6, 12, 15 in Paris see E´cole Centrale; E´cole des Beaux-Arts; E´cole Polytechnique egg-and-dart motifs, 65, 69, 106, 123, 129, 133, Pl.15, Pl.21 ´Eglise de la Madeleine, Paris, 106, 133
Eiffel, Gustave, 79, 80 1848 Revolution, 82 El-Hac Efendi, 145, 147 Elbise-i Osmani, 112, 113, 134 Eldem, Edhem, 178 Eldem, Sedat Hakkı, 115 embezzlement Balyan family accused of, 1 – 2, 8, 22, 167, 168– 9 Mıgırdic Cezayirliyan accused of, 174 emblematic motifs, 124, 133, Pl.19, Pl.26 empire style, 9, 65, 68, 84, 99, 105– 6, 115, 116, 123, 125, 129, 132, 133, 135 Encyclopaedia of Istanbul (Koc u), 16 England education of Armenians in, 37 industrialization in, 85, 102 entrance gates, 38, 81, 102, 106, 108, 120, 120, 125, 129, 130 Ersoy, Ahmet, 9, 10, 42, 89, 118, 176, 180 ¨ ss-i Zafer (Foundation of Es’ad Efendi, U Victory), 100, 103 estimates (kes¸f-i evvel), 26, 34, 35, 37, 43, 46– 7, 143 Etchmiadzin Cathedral, 62, 95, 180 Etmekjian, James, 12, 13 Eugenie, Empress, 117 European Romantic Revivalism, 182– 3 European Union, Turkish accession bid, 178 Evanis Kalfa, 144 Evkaf-i Hu¨mayun Nezareti see Ministry of Pious Foundations Evliyya C¸elebi, 99 Far East, Armenians in, 101 Fatma Sultan, 111 fermans (decrees), 18, 21, 27, 37 – 8, 78 Fetah Efendi, 148 Fianchini, Septime, 164
INDEX
Findley, Carter, 6 First National Style, 180 Firuzag˘a Mosque, Fatih, Istanbul, 118 Flemish architecture, 64 Flood, Finbarr Barry, 98, 118 floral motifs, 65, 70, 102, 104, 117, 123, 124, 135, 137, Pl.7, Pl.12, Pl.13, Pl.14, Pl.15, Pl.16, Pl.26, Pl.27, Pl.29 see also rose motifs Focillon, Henri, 97, 98 folk art, 65 Fontaine, Pierre-Franc ois Le´onard, 105, 125, 129 formalism, 9, 97 Fortna, Benjamin, 7 Fossati, Gaspare, 28 Foti Kalfa, 27, 32, 37, 102, 154 Foucault, Michel, 117 fountains, 34, 57, 104, 106, 119, 121, 124, 155, Pl.9, Pl.10 Fournie´, Victor, 80 France, Ottoman links with, 6, 99 see also Paris Friday prayers (Selamlık), 116 Fuad Pas¸a, Grand Vizier, 5, 111, 112 functionalism, 87, 89, 92, 120–2 Gagik I, 73 Galland, Pierre-Victor, 60 Gare de l’Est, Paris, 68, 115, 132 Garnier, Charles, 92, 94, 125, 132 Gautier, The´ophile, 39, 80, 83, 84, 98, 126, 127, 132, 133, 183 Gaziantep, 96 Cathedral, 72 Gedikpas¸a Theatre, Istanbul, 82, 110 Geghard Monastery, 95 genius figures, 2– 3, 14– 19, 82 Germany, Ottoman trade with, 6 Ghirlandaio, The Birth of the Virgin, 124 Gibbs, James, 101 Gilson, Adrian, 110
259
glass manufacture, 132 Gombrich, E.H., 221n183 Gorky, Arshile, 180 Gothic style, 54, 72, 84, 93, 94, 117, 118, 125, 128, 134, 135, 136, 138, 139, 139, 181, Pl.30 Go¨kalp, Ziya, 180 Go¨ksu Pavilion, Ku¨cu¨ksu, Istanbul, 60, 115, 120, 121, 124, 125, 131, Pl.10, Pl.11 Go¨ncu¨, Cengiz, 22, 46, 142, 143, 144, 148, 154, 176 Grand Vizier’s Office (Sadaret), 37, 38, 162 Great Exhibition, London (1851), 94 Great Mosque, Bursa, 6 Great Mosque, Damascus, 98 Greek architecture, 2, 92, 93, 103, 106, 114, 119, 120, 121, 122, 123, 127 Greek independence movement, 183– 4 Greeks see Ottoman– Greeks Green Mosque, Bursa, 94, 103, 117, 125, 126, 134, 137, 138 grilles, 68, 69, 70, 83, 104, 105, 106, 119, 120, 125, 129, 139, 139, 153, 161, Pl.24, Pl.30 Guadet, Julien, 92 guilds (esnaf), 58 –9, 59 Gu¨mu¨s¸cu¨yan, Karapet, 77 Gu¨mu¨s¸suyu Barracks, Istanbul, 114 Gu¨reg˘yan, Le´on, 177 Hacı Bekir Mosque, Fındıklı, Istanbul, 34 Hacı Mıgırdic C¸arkian, 150 Hacı Mıgırdic Kalfa, 148 ¨ mer Ag˘a, mutemed, 148, 153 Hacı O Hacı Said Ag˘a, 144 Hacikyan, Agop, 76 Hac adur, Pazarcı, 155 Haghia Sophia, Istanbul, 14, 114 Hamidiye Mosque, Yıldız, Istanbul, 6, 176, 180
260
THE ARCHITECTS OF OTTOMAN CONSTANTINOPLE
Hamidiye Regiments, 7 Hanc er, Elmon, 64 Hasan Fehmi Pas¸a, 169 Hasib Pas¸a, 145, 147 Hasib Salih, 145–6 Hassa Mimarları Ocag˘ı see Imperial Architects’ Office Haussmann, Baron, 115, 216n40 Hayasdan (newspaper), 77, 95, 147 Hayri Bey, 49 Hazine-i Hassa Nezareti see Ministry of the Imperial Treasury Helve´tius, Claude Adrien, 6 heraldic motifs, 72, 101, 106, 123, 130 He´rotik Amira, 56, 75, 95, 152 Hırka-i S¸erif Mosque, Fatih, Istanbul, 21, 70, 115, 123, 124, 125, 143, 145, 147, 150, 154, 162, Pl.14, Pl.15, Pl.16 Hidayet Mosque, Emino¨nu¨, Istanbul, 34 Hilmi Bey, 110 Hilmi, Sainte-Barbe student, 78 History of the Armenians (Berberyan), 14– 15 Hobsbawm, Eric, 97 hoca / hoce (merchant), 48– 9 Horossancıyan, Doktor, 77 Horossancıyan, Tovmas, 77 Hoˆtel Carnavalet, Paris, 124 House of Osman (Ottoman dynasty), 99 Hovhannesyan, Sarkis, 73 Hrant Dink Foundation, 22, 180 Hristo, carver, 153 Hugo, Victor, 81, 82, 183, 216n48 humanists, 2, 51, 78 Hunc aks, 7, 170, 170–1, 171, 172, 174, 175, 182 hunting lodges, 92, 117 Hu¨kar Kasrı, Izmit, 40, 157 Hu¨rrem Sultan, 106 hybrid style, 9, 83, 84, 98, 99, 103, 115, 116, 117, 118, 133, 134, 136 – 40
Ibrahim Edhem Pas¸a, Grand Vizier, 168 iconoclasm, 64 iconography, 65 –6, 66 –7, 70, 73 – 4, 102, 129– 30, 130– 1, 130– 2 Islamic, 73 – 4, 84, 93– 4, 104, 106, 110, 132– 3, 136– 8 of the Tanzimat, 123– 5 see also symbolism icons, 37, 64, 72 Ihlamur Pavilion, Istanbul, 38, 81, 115, 120, 121, 123, 131, Pl.9 Il Redentore, Venice, 106, 128 imagery, in rebuilt churches, 66– 7 Imperial Apartment, Beykoz, Istanbul, 143, 163 Imperial Apartment, Pas¸akapı, Istanbul, 34, 35 Imperial Architects’ Office (Hassa Mimarları Ocag˘ı), 4, 20, 21, 24–6, 28, 34, 35, 50, 99, 102, 142, 155, 162 Imperial Engineering School, Hasko¨y, Istanbul, 44, 114 Imperial Medical School, Istanbul, 114 Imperial Mint (Darphane Nazırı), Istanbul, 16, 38, 56, 102 Inchichian, Ghukas, 209n117 India, Armenians in, 101 industrialization, 2, 75, 85, 90, 156, 158 Institut de France, 80, 85 Iran see Persia Isfahan, Chihil Sutun Palace, 73 Islamic iconography, 73– 4, 84, 93 – 4, 104, 106, 110, 132– 3, 136– 8 see also symbolism Islamic revivalist style, 117 see also Arabic style; Moorish style Ismail Efendi, 43 – 4 Istanbul Adile Sultan Palace, Kandilli, 46, 115, 117 Akaretler (row houses), Bes¸iktas¸, 47 –8, 87, 88, 92, 113, 116, 165– 6, 168, 169
INDEX
Arshaguniats Armenian School, Dolapdere, 96 Ayazag˘a Imperial Pavilion, 40 Ayazag˘a Kasrı, Maslak, 117 ¨ sku¨dar, 84, 104, Ayazma Mosque, U 123, 151 Aynalı Kavak Sarayı, Hasko¨y, 102 Aziziye Mosque project, Mac ka, 47– 8, 113, 117, 165– 6, 167– 8, 169 Bakırko¨y Church, 70 Bes¸iktas¸ Palace, 48 Beykoz Pavilion, 115 Beylerbeyi Mosque, 99, 103, 104 Beylerbeyi Palace, 40, 46, 52, 94– 5, 117, 119, 122, 125, 135– 7, 136, 137, 139– 40, 142, 143, 148, 152, 153, 157, 161, 176, Pl.27, Pl.28 ¨ sku¨dar, 51, 59, Cemaran School, U 60, 82 Cemile Sultan Palace, Salıpazarı, 115 Cezayirliyan Mansion, Yeniko¨y, 60, 93 Church of Sts Peter and Paul, Galata, 29 C¸ırag˘an Palace, 9, 22, 24, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 42, 43, 46, 54, 60, 81, 82– 3, 113, 117, 119, 120, 121, 125, 135, 136, 143, 157, 159, 167, 168– 9 C¸ırag˘an Police Station, 87, 116 C¸inili Valide Sultan Mosque, ¨ skU ¯ dar, 34 U Defterdarburnu Palace, 47, 170 Dolmabahc e Mosque, Bes¸iktas¸, 9, 44, 73, 111, 115, 119, 122, 124, 125, 132– 3, 143, 145, 151– 2, 155– 6, 161, Pl.17, Pl.18, Pl.19, Pl.20, Pl.21 Dolmabahc e Palace, Bes¸iktas¸, 16, 24, 37, 38, 39, 44, 60, 61, 64, 70, 81, 83, 84 – 5, 87, 93, 105, 111, 115, 119, 120, 120, 121, 122, 123, 124, 125– 32, 128, 130, 133, 135, 136, 142, 144, 150, 154, 159, 163, 164, 177, Pl.4, Pl.5, Pl.6, Pl.7, Pl.8 Firuzag˘a Mosque, Fatih, 118
261
Go¨ksu Pavilion, Ku¨cu¨ksu, 60, 115, 120, 121, 124, 125, 131, Pl.10, Pl.11 Gu¨mu¨s¸suyu Barracks, 114 Hacı Bekir Mosque, Fındıklı, 34 Haghia Sophia, 14, 114 Hamidiye Mosque, Yıldız, 6, 176, 180 Hırka-i S¸erif Mosque, Fatih, 21, 70, 115, 123, 124, 125, 143, 145, 147, 150, 154, 162, Pl.14, Pl.15, Pl.16 Hidayet Mosque, Emino¨nu¨, 34 Ihlamur Pavilion, 38, 81, 115, 120, 121, 123, 131, Pl.9 Imperial Apartment, Beykoz, 143, 163 Imperial Apartment, Pas¸akapı, 34, 35 Imperial Engineering School, Hasko¨y, 44, 114 Imperial Medical School, 114 Imperial Mint, 16, 38, 56, 102 Kag˘ıthane Azizye Kasrı, 157 Kag˘ıthane Mosque, 40, 117– 18, 119, 122, 123, 125, 143, 147, 148, 153, 157, Pl.25, Pl.26 Kızıltoprak Mosque, 113 Kuleli Cavalry Barracks, 114 Laleli Mosque, Fatih, 27, 84, 104, 112 Mahmud Pas¸a Mosque, Eyu¨p, 34 Makruhyan School, Bes¸iktas¸, 96 Masonic Lodge, 110, 113 Mausoleum of Mahmud II, C¸emberlitas¸, 70, 71, 73, 74, 123, 124, Pl.3 Mecidiye Barracks, Dolmabahc e, 116, 163 Mecidiye Mosque, C¸irag˘an, 115, 116, 119, 120, 121, 122, 124, 125, 143, 145, 147, 150, 155, Pl.12, Pl.13 Ministry of War, Beyazid Square, 117 Mu¨nire Sultan Palace, Salıpazarı, 115 Naks¸idil Sultan Mausoleum, Fatih, 106 Naum Theatre, 110, 113 Naval Hospital, 162
262
THE ARCHITECTS OF OTTOMAN CONSTANTINOPLE
Istanbul cont. Naval Ministry, Kasımpas¸a, 117, 125 Naval School, 36, 60 Nur-u Osmaniye Mosque, Fatih, 27, 30, 34, 84, 104, 112, 118 Nusretiye Mosque, Tophane, 8 – 9, 9, 13, 24, 33, 34, 102, 103– 4, 103, 105, 105 Oriental Theatre, 82 Ortako¨y Mosque, 9, 38, 39, 44, 81, 111, 115, 119, 121, 122, 123, 125, 129, 132– 3, 143, 144, 145– 7, 152, 153, 156– 7, 160, 163, Pl.22, Pl.23, Pl.24 Ortako¨y Palace, 47 Ottoman Museum, 6 Pera water system, 41, 88 Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque, Aksaray, 46, 113, 117– 18, 119, 120, 121, 123, 125, 134– 5, 137– 9, 138, 139, 143, 148, 149, 153–4, 157– 8, Pl.29, Pl.30 Selimiye Barracks, U¨sku¨dar, 24, 33, 34, 35, 102, 103 ¨ sku¨dar, 26, 27, Selimiye Mosque, U 99, 104 Surp Asdvadzadzin Church, Bes¸iktas¸, 15, 37, 60, 64, 65, 66, 66– 7, 68 –72, 69, 71, 73, 74, 106, 109, 122, 123, 124, 127, Pl.1, Pl.2 Surp Asdvadzadzin Church, Kumkapı, 26, 63, 65, 67, 102, 104, 124 Surp Hac Church, I˙cadiye, 63, 65, 67 Surp Hac Church, Kuruc es¸me, 69, 70 Surp Hres¸dagabed Church, Balat, 73 Surp Krikor Lusavoric Church, Karako¨y, 63 Surp Krikor Lusavoric Church, Kınalıada, 60 Surp Krikor Lusavoric Church, Kuzguncuk, 64, 65, 69 Surp Pırgic Armenian hospital, Fatih, 32, 38
Surp Yerrortutyun Church, Galata, 65, 67 –8, 69, 70, 124 Su¨leymaniye Mosque, 25– 6, 26, 99, 120, 160 Tes¸vikiye Mosque, S¸is¸li, 43, 115, 119, 123, 143, 145, 147, 155 Tophane Clock Tower, 38, 81 Tophane kiosk, 29 Topkapı Palace, 25, 40, 73, 102, 115, 116, 119, 120, 149 War College, Pangaltı, 114 Yıldız Palace, 43, 47 Yıldız Pavilion, 37, 41, 46, 95, 117, 143 Istanbul University, 28, 51 Istefan Kalfa, 28, 39, 44, 48, 143, 145, 146, 147, 162, 162– 3 Italian artists, 60, 61, 105 Italy, 6 Izmir Pavilion, 61 Izmit Broadcloth Factory, 15, 36, 38, 43– 4, 114 Hu¨nkar Kasrı, 40, 157 I˙zzet Efendi, 104 Jamanak (newspaper), 32 janissaries, 5, 32, 58, 100 Jewish architecture, 62 Jews, 11, 110, 157 Jones, Lynn, 73 Jones, Owen, 9, 52, 117, 123, 124, 135, Pl.27 Journal de Constantinople (newspaper), 28, 163 July Revolution (1830), 81 Kabadayı, Mustafa Erdem, 49 Kag˘ıthane Azizye Kasrı, Istanbul, 157 Kag˘ıthane Mosque, Istanbul, 40, 117– 18, 119, 122, 123, 125, 126, 143, 147, 148, 153, 157, Pl.25, Pl.26
INDEX
Kaiser, Hilmar, 7 kalfas (non-Muslim architects and builders) Balyan family as kalfas rather than mimars, 16, 21 negative influence of, 1, 2, 8, 13 rise of, 19, 21, 26 –7 role of, 162–3 Kapriyel Kalfa (Mıgırdic iyan), 150 Karapet Serkis Ag˘a, 16 Karapet, yazıcı, 146, 147 kavits (church lobbies), 63, 68, 69 Kayseri, 15, 29– 30, 33, 35 Surp Krikor Lusavoric Church, 72 Kazanyan, Agop, 166, 170 Kecharis Church, 64 Kemaleddin Bey, 118, 180 Kemhaciyan, Vortik, 157, 159, 161, Pl.28 kes¸f-i evvel (estimates), 26, 34, 35, 37, 43, 46– 7, 143 Ke´vorkian, Raymond, 7– 8, 172 Kızıltoprak Mosque, Istanbul, 113 Koc u, Res¸ad Ekrem, Encyclopaedia of Istanbul, 16 Koniko, Ikseno, 153, 163 Konstantis Kalfa, 27 Konya, Aziziye Mosque, 122, 133 Koran, the, 104 Ko¨ceog˘lu, Krikor, 113 Kritovoulos of Imbros, 131 Kuban, Dog˘an, 103, 105 Kufic script, 113, 122, 130, 135 Kuleli Cavalry Barracks, Istanbul, 114 Kurdog˘lu, Keresteci, 45, 164, 165 Kurds, 7 Ku¨cu¨ksu Pavilion, Istanbul see Go¨ksu Pavilion Ku¨rkcu¨yan, Markar, 60 kursis (preacher’s seats), 104, 122, 153, Pl.13, Pl.15, Pl.21 La Fontaine, Jean de, 6 La Rotonda, Vicenza, 123, 129
263
labourers (amele), use of local, 150–3, 153– 4 Labrouste, Alexandre, 38, 78, 79, 80 – 1 Labrouste, Henri, 79, 81, 82, 92, 98, 129, 202n26 Laleli Mosque, Fatih, Istanbul, 27, 84, 104, 112 Lamartine, Alphonse de, 82, 83, 84, 102, 127, 183, 183– 4 L’Amira (Sevadjian), 56, 75, 95 – 6, 152 Landau, Amy, 73 Le Be´alle, Alexandre, 80 Le Monde Illustre´ (magazine), 41, 94– 5, 115 Lebanon, 63 Lehman, Henri, 80 Leonardo da Vinci, 2, 15 Les Invalides, Paris, 106 Levant Herald (newspaper), 28, 159, 172 Lewis, Bernard, 5, 6 Libaridian, Gerard J., 170 Library of San Marco, Venice, 127 L’Illustration (magazine), 110 Lisonk, 30, 36 Lives of the Artists (Vasari), 2, 15, 17 Locke, John, 114 Lole, Serkis Elyas, 179, 180 London Armenians in, 101, 171 Crystal Palace, 132 Great Exhibition (1851), 94 Oriental and Turkish Museum, 113 Palace of Westminster, 29, 174– 5 Luys (newspaper), 86 Lu¨tfi Efendi, 13 Lviando, Jean, 164 MacFarlane, Charles, 102, 190n124 Macler, Fre´de´ric, 31, 37 Madiros, demirci, 153 Madras see Chennai Magar, imperial architect, 29, 30, 31 Magne, Lucien, 93
264
THE ARCHITECTS OF OTTOMAN CONSTANTINOPLE
Mahmud I, Sultan, 29, 30, 31, 73 Mahmud II, Sultan, 5, 11, 15, 19, 31, 32– 3, 64, 66, 98, 99, 102, 119, 124, 135 Mausoleum, 70, 71, 73, 74, 105– 7, 107, 107, 108, 123, 124, Pl.3 New Order and, 100– 8 Mahmud Pas¸a Mosque, Eyu¨p, Istanbul, 34 Maillard, Euge`ne, 47– 8, 113, 165, 166, 167 Makruhyan School, Bes¸iktas¸, Istanbul, 96 Malakyan, Krikor, 150 Manas family, 16, 101, 102, 112 Manukyan, Simyon, 171 Maranci, Christina, 62 marble, use of, 122, 123, 154, 157 Marchese, Ronald T., 65, 66 Mardin, 179 Mardin, S¸erif, 6 Marmashen Church, 64 Marseille Cathedral, 94, 128 Mary, Louis-Charles, 85, 87 – 9, 92, 122 Masis (newspaper), 17, 36, 38, 39 –40, 40, 41, 59, 77, 79, 81, 86 Masonic Lodge, Istanbul, 110, 113 masonry fac ades, regularized, 115, 117, 118, 119, 127, 135 Matteos,Patriarch, 59 Mausoleum of Mahmud II, C¸emberlitas¸, Istanbul, 70, 71, 73, 74, 123, 124, Pl.3 Mecidiye Barracks, Dolmabahc e, Istanbul, 116, 163 Mecidiye Mosque, C¸irag˘an, Istanbul, 115, 116, 119, 120, 121, 122, 124, 125, 143, 145, 147, 150, 155, Pl.12, Pl.13 medieval models of Armenian architecture and decoration, 62 –6 medreses (religious schools), 8 Meg˘u (newspaper), 17, 38, 45, 79, 81, 83 Mehmed Ag˘a, 26
Mehmed I, Sultan, 94 Mehmed II, Sultan (Mehmed the Conqueror), 101 Mehmed III, Sultan, 29, 30, 131 Mehmed IV, Sultan, 30 Mehmet Tahir Efendi, 111 Mekhitar, Abbot, 17 Mekhitarists, 17, 36– 7, 57, 58, 64, 72, 74, 76, 101 Mekteb-i Osmani (Ottoman School), Paris, 78 Melik, Jacob, 26, 60 Melik, Sainte-Barbe student, 78 Melling, Antoine Ignace, 99 Memories (Zartaryan), 15 Mesrop Mastoc, St, 66 Miakam Ingerutyun (One-Willed Association), 59 Michelangelo, 2, 15 Midhat Pas¸a, 206n48 Mihail, duvarcıbas¸ı hoca, 160 mihrabs (prayer niches), 83, 103, 104, 117, 118, 122, 125, 126, 133, 138, 153, 160, Pl.13, Pl.20, Pl.24, Pl.30 Mikael Efendi Portakal, 110 militaristic motifs, 84, 106, 117, 124, 130, 130, 135, 136– 7 military, reform of, 5 millets (religious communities), 11, 56, 57 Mills, Amy, 178 Mimar Sinan see Sinan mimarbas¸ı see chief architect mimars (architects) Balyan family as kalfas rather than, 16, 21 use of term, 27 Minas Kalfa, 29, 30 Minas, Varpet, 73 minbers (pulpits), 6, 70, 104, 122, 124, 125, 134, 138, 160, 184, Pl.13, Pl.16, Pl.19, Pl.24 mines, 2, 89
INDEX
Ministry of Pious Foundations (Evkaf-i Hu¨mayun Nezareti), 6, 28, 34, 49, 142, 143, 144, 145, 149, 162, 176 Ministry of the Imperial Treasury (Hazine-i Hassa Nezareti), 37, 44, 47, 49, 50, 142, 143– 4, 144, 145, 147– 50, 154, 164, 176, 177 Ministry of War (Harbiye Nezareti), Beyazid Square, Istanbul, 117 Missakiyan, Hac adur, 77 mobility, Mahmud II and, 101– 2 model books, 92 models, architectural, 25, 29, 46, 52 modernization, 2, 15, 16, 61, 72, 75, 90, 95 Monge, Gaspard, 86 monograms, imperial see tug˘ras Montani, Pietro, 113, 188– 9n83 see also Usul-u Mimari-i Osmani Montesquieu, 6 Moorish style, 83, 94, 117, 123, 125, 135, 140, Pl.27 Moralı Celal Bey, 43 Morrow, John, 77 mosque-building, 115– 16, 117– 18 Mosque of Mehmed ‘Ali Pas¸a, Cairo, 13, 97 motifs repetition of, 123– 5 see also iconography; symbolism; specific motifs Moziyan, Doktor, 77 Mughal style, 94, 125, 134, Pl.30 Muradian College, Paris, 76, 113 Museum of Natural History (Gallery of Evolution), Paris, 92 Mustafa Ag˘a, mutemed, 148, 153 Mustafa III, Sultan, 31 Mustafa IV, Sultan, 15, 31 Mustafa Nuri Pas¸a, 8, 13, 28, 32, 110, 225n73 Mustafa Rakım Efendi, 104 Mustafa Res¸id Pas¸a, 60, 110, 174
265
Mu¨hendisian, Madiros, 86, 87 mu¨nakasa (tendering process), 20, 21, 28, 143 Mu¨nire Sultan Palace, Salıpazarı, Istanbul, 115 mu¨teahhits (contractors), 20, 21, 26, 54, 160– 1, 162 Nadar (Fe´lix Tournachon), 80 Nafilian, Le´on, 179, 180 Naimark, Norman, 7 Naks¸idil Sultan Mausoleum, Fatih, Istanbul, 106 Nalbantog˘lu, Gu¨lsu¨m Baydar, 21, 22, 42, 50, 89 Nalyan Fre`res, 158, 159 Napoleonic France, 105– 6, 130, 133 nation states, 2, 7, 99 nationalism, 8, 10, 14, 21, 61, 77, 97, 180, 182 Naum Theatre, Istanbul, 110, 113 Naval Hospital, Istanbul, 162 Naval Ministry (Bahriye Nezareti), Kasımpas¸a, Istanbul, 117, 125 Naval School (Bahriye Mektebi), Istanbul, 36, 60 Necip, Ahmed, 145 Necip Bey Efendi, 43, 145, 147 neo-Gothic style, 94, 214– 15n8 neo-Islamic style, 84, 110, 117– 18, 120, 121, 121, 122, 123, 125, 129, 130, 132, 135, 136, 137, 138, 139, 139, 180, 181 neo-Ottoman style, 94, 117– 18, 124– 5, 126, 135, 139, 139, Pl.30 neo-Renaissance style, 40, 118, 132– 3 neoclassical style, 63, 65, 68, 69, 84, 99, 102, 103, 106, 114, 115, 116, 118, 123, 133, 135, 139, 181 Nevruz, Apetik, 77 New Julfa, 11, 33, 61, 73, 162 Cathedral, 63, 64 Church of the Holy Bethlehem, 73
266
THE ARCHITECTS OF OTTOMAN CONSTANTINOPLE
New Order (Nizam-i Cedid), 32, 99, 100– 8 Neyzi, Leyla, 177 Nikolaki, bezirgan, 155 Nikolaki Kalfa, 176, 180 Nizam-i Cedid (New Order), 32 non-Muslims architects and builders see kalfas issues for, 5, 6– 7, 8, 10– 11 Notre-Dame-du-Bonne-Nouvelle, Paris, 106 Nouvel Ope´ra, Paris, 95, 125, 132, 163– 4 Novello, Adriano Alpago, 63 Nur-u Osmaniye Mosque, Fatih, Istanbul, 27, 30, 34, 84, 104, 112, 118 Nusretiye Mosque, Tophane, Istanbul, 8– 9, 9, 13, 24, 33, 34, 102, 103– 4, 103, 105, 105 Odian, Krikor, 38, 45, 79, 81– 2, 82, 83, 119, 125, 206n39 Ohannes, elebas¸ı, 146, 147 One-Willed Association (Miakam Ingerutyun), 59 onion domes, 125, 134, Pl.30 oral history, 19, 65, 177 The Oriental Advertiser (newspaper), 159 Oriental and Turkish Museum, London, 113 Oriental Theatre, Istanbul, 82 Orientalism, 14, 31, 33, 39, 95, 97, 99, 112, 126– 7 anti-Orientalists, 6, 10 Orientalist style, 9, 10, 97, 112, 113, 115, 116, 132 Orland, Constantin, 164 Ormanian, Patriarch, 54 Ortako¨y Mosque, Istanbul, 9, 38, 39, 44, 81, 111, 115, 119, 121, 122, 123, 125, 129, 132– 3, 143, 144, 145– 7, 152, 153, 156– 7, 160, 163, Pl.22, Pl.23, Pl.24
Ortako¨y Palace, Istanbul, 47 Orthodox Church see Armenian Orthodox Church Oscanyan, C., 113 Oshagan, Vahe´, 76 Oskanyan, Istepan, 78 Osman III, Sultan, 31 Osman Hamdi Bey, 19, 53, 182 Osman Tevfik Efendi, 145, 147 Ottoman architecture, nineteenth-century overview, 8–10 Ottoman Bank, 7 Ottoman Baroque style, 103– 4 Ottoman coat of arms (Arma-i Osmani), 36, 105, 131 Ottoman Company for Public Works, 46, 47, 53, 88, 89 – 90 Ottoman dynasty (House of Osman), 99– 100 Ottoman Empire Armenians in, 3, 10 – 13 modernization projects, 2, 5 nineteenth-century overview, 5– 8 Ottoman Foreign Ministry, 163 Ottoman– Greeks, 6, 8, 12, 27, 28, 110, 147, 148, 149, 153, 157, 162, 164 Ottoman language, 53 Ottoman Museum, Istanbul, 6 Ottoman Renaissance, 93– 4, 98, 100, 113, 114, 133– 5, 140 Ottomanism, 6 – 7, 8, 53, 54, 113 Pact of Umar, 10– 11, 62 Palace of Westminster, London, 29, 174– 5 Palais de Louvre, Paris, 115, 132 Palais du Luxembourg, Paris, 115, 132 Palazzo Farnese, Rome, 68 Palladian style, 68, 69, 106 Palladio, Andrea, 128 Pamuk, Orhan, 99 Pamukciyan, Kevork, 16 – 17, 18, 29– 30, 77, 147, 167, 178
INDEX
Panis, Jules Ernest, 80 Panthe´on, Paris, 106 Pantheon, Rome, 127 Paris Arc du Carrousel, Louvre, 106, 120, 125, 132 ´Ecole Centrale des Arts et Manufactures, 41, 51, 77, 78, 80, 85 –7, 89, 92, 122 E´cole des Beaux-Arts, 27, 38, 41, 60, 77, 78, 80, 81, 89, 92– 4 E´cole Polytechnique, 30, 78, 80, 85, 86, 87, 92 education of Armenians in, 1, 2, 6, 8, 16, 17, 37, 38, 41, 58, 76– 80, 98, 101, 108 E´glise de la Madeleine, 106, 133 exile of Serkis Balyan to, 166, 169 Exposition (1867), 117, 134 Hoˆtel Carnavalet, 124 influence of, 102– 3 Les Invalides, 106 Muradian College, 113 Museum of Natural History (Gallery of Evolution), 92 Notre-Dame-du-Bonne-Nouvelle, 106 Nouvel Ope´ra, 95, 125, 132, 163– 4 Palais de Louvre, 115, 132 Palais du Luxembourg, 115, 132 Panthe´on, 106 Pe`re Lachaise Cemetery, 63 St John the Baptist Armenian Church, 63 storming of the Turkish consulate (1981), 18 Partemyos, watch maker, 49, 143 Parville´e, Le´on, 60– 1, 93– 4, 98, 134 Pasteur, Louis, 91 payment on account (ale’l-hesab), 160 – 1 Pera water system, Istanbul, 88 Percier, Charles, 105, 125, 129 Pe`re Lachaise Cemetery, Paris, 63
267
Persia, 47, 52, 61, 62, 63, 94, 99, 101, 165 Pertevniyal Valide Sultan Mosque, Aksaray, Istanbul, 46, 113, 117– 18, 119, 120, 121, 123, 125, 134–5, 137– 9, 138, 139, 143, 148, 149, 153– 4, 157– 8, Pl.29, Pl.30 Pes¸timalciyan, Krikor, 32, 33, 57, 58 Philliou, Christine, 5, 6 photography, 42, 112, 117 Piazza San Marco, Venice, 128 pious foundation[s] (vakıf / pl. evkaf), 5, 34, 39, 57, 68, 96, 115, 116, 145 see also Ministry of Pious Foundations Pisanello, 36 plan types, systemization of, 118–19 pluralism, architectural, 10 Porte see Sublime Porte portraiture, 36, 58, 60, 61, 65, 67, 70, 72, 100– 1, 102, 111, 112, 130 Posbiyikian, Kalust, 154 Pothier, Franc ois, 85 prayer niches see mihrabs proto-national movement, 6, 8, 10, 12, 61, 70, 112, 113, 134 Public Debt Administration, 7 Pugin, A.W.N., 29, 93, 141, 174–5 pulpits see minbers purchased goods (mubayaat) for imperial works, 1840s and 1850s, 154– 7 for Serkis and Agop Balyans’ imperial works, 157– 8 Pushkin, Alexander, 183 Quataert, Donald, 8 Quicherat, J., 78 Rafael, architect, 112 Raif Efendi, 149 Raif, memur, 146 railway construction, 2, 53, 85, 88, 89 Rauf Pas¸a, 145, 146
268
THE ARCHITECTS OF OTTOMAN CONSTANTINOPLE
reform decrees, 5, 12, 18, 35 Reinkowski, Maurus, 6 Remzi, Sainte-Barbe student, 78 Renaissance style, 84, 101, 106, 117, 118, 123, 124, 129, 132, 133, 139 Renaissance, the, 2, 65, 67, 68, 70, 114 see also Ottoman Renaissance; Venice Renda, Gu¨nsel, 100 renouvellement de´coratif (decorative renewal), 83 –5, 98 representation of Abdu¨laziz, 112 of Abdu¨lmecid, 111, 130 of Mahmud II, 100– 1 Reshid Pas¸a see Mustafa Res¸id Pas¸a reuse, of structural elements, 73, 74, 118, 120– 2 revivalism, 10, 117, 118, 180, 182– 3 Revue de Constantinople, 30 Reynolds, Joshua, 2 Richardson, Henry Hobson, 92 Rıza Bey, 50 Rıza, Minister of Pious Foundations, 146, 147 Rococo style, 9, 102, 129 Roman architecture, 2, 84, 92, 93, 98, 103, 106, 118, 119, 127, 129, 130, 132 Romanesque style, 92, 128 Romania, 171 Romantic era, 81 – 3, 92, 98, 182– 3 Rome Armenians in, 101 Palazzo Farnese, 68 Pantheon, 127 see also Roman architecture roofing systems, 114, 122 rose motifs, 65, 70, 106, 107, 108, 124, 125, 130, 130, 135– 6 Rousseau, Jean-Jacques, 6 Rum tarzı (Rum style), 99 Rusinian, Nahapet, 82
Ruskin, John, 82, 84 The Stones of Venice, 82, 127 Russia, 101, 170, 183 Saadet (newspaper), 11 – 12 saatcıs (watch makers), 11, 49, 143 Sadaret (Grand Vizier’s Office), 37, 38, 162 Sadullah Bey, 110 Safavids, 33, 63, 73, 98 Safvet Pas¸a, Grand Vizier, 47– 8, 113, 165 Said, Edward, 2, 221n181 Saint-Martin, Jean, 30 Sainte-Barbe, Paris, 38, 40, 41, 51, 53, 60, 77, 78– 80, 80– 1, 85, 86, 98 Salaheddin Bey, 112 Saltanov, Bodgan (Astuacatur), 73 Samara, 73 Sami, S¸emsettin, 26 San Francesco della Vigna Church, Venice, 69 San Lazzaro Monastery, Venice, 101 Sansovino, Jacopo, 127 Sasun revolt, 7, 171 Sati, Ali, 104 Savriyo Kalfa (Saverio Calleja), 47– 8, 113, 165, 167 scagliola (ersatz marble), 122, 133, 151, Pl.19, Pl.24, Pl.27 School of Arts and Industry proposal, by Serkis Balyan, 46, 50 –4, 89, 92 Scuola Grande San Rocco, Venice, 119, 123, 129 Se´chan, Charles, 20, 125, 129, 163, 163– 4, 202n26, 214n218, Pl.8, Pl.11 Selamlık (Friday prayers), 116 Selim II, Sultan, 26 Selim III, Sultan, 5, 15, 31, 32, 33, 99, 102 Selimiye Barracks, U¨sku¨dar, Istanbul, 24, 33, 34, 35, 102, 103
INDEX
¨ sku¨dar, Istanbul, 26, Selimiye Mosque, U 27, 99, 104 Semper, Gottfried, 94 Senekerim Kalfa, 148 Ser Mimar-i Devlet see Chief Architect of the State Serbia, uprisings in, 7 Serkisbey Adası, 168, 173 Serveryan, Artin, 28, 143, 145, 146, 147, 162 Serveryan family, 29– 30, 37, 58 Serveryan, Istepan, 163 Serveryan, Ohannes, 15, 28, 36, 37, 37– 8, 59, 61, 64, 95, 143, 145, 152, 162 Sevadjian, Marie, L’Amira, 56, 75, 95– 6, 152 shell motifs, 84, 102, 129, 132, 135, Pl.13, Pl.18, Pl.20, Pl.21, Pl.26, Pl.27 Simyon Kalfa, 27 Sinan, 2, 17, 21, 25 – 6, 50, 99, 112, 128, 138, 139 Sırabıyan, Bedros, 150 Sivas, 17 Smith, Adam, 6 Smith, William James, 28, 29, 163 sofa plan, 9, 85, 96, 102, 115, 117, 118, 119, 127, 129, 132, 135, 137 sovereign power, symbolism of, 84, 98, 103, 104– 9, 118, 124, 130– 2, 132, 133, 136– 7, 140 So¨zen, Metin, 9 St John the Baptist Armenian Church, Paris, 63 staircases, 114, 121, 122, 129, 132, Pl.9, Pl.10 star motifs, 65, 68, 84, 121, 129, 132, Pl.18 stone-carving, promotion of, 59, 95, 122, 138, 151– 2 The Stones of Venice (Ruskin), 82, 127 Strauss, Johann, 30
269
structural elements, reuse of, 73, 74, 118, 120– 2 Strzygowski, Jozef, 9, 62 stucco ornament, 65, 67, 68, 69 – 70, 71, 102, 106, 123, 124, 125, 131, 157, Pl.2, Pl.3, Pl.12, Pl.14 Subhi Bey, 184 Sublime Porte (Bab-ı-Ali), 5, 45, 46, 47, 89, 164, 166, 167, 168, 172 sunburst motifs, 66, 101, 106, 107, 108, 109, 114, 124, 136– 7, Pl.1 Surp Asdvadzadzin Church, Bes¸iktas¸, Istanbul, 15, 37, 60, 64, 65, 66, 66 – 7, 68 – 72, 69, 71, 73, 74, 106, 109, 122, 123, 124, 127, Pl.1, Pl.2 Surp Asdvadzadzin Church, Kumkapı, Istanbul, 26, 63, 65, 67, 102, 104, 124 Surp Hac Church, I˙cadiye, Istanbul, 63, 65, 67 Surp Hac Church, Kuruc es¸me, Istanbul, 69, 70 Surp Hac Church, Venice, 64 Surp Hres¸dagabed Church, Balat, Istanbul, 73 Surp Hripsime Church, near Etchmiadzin, 62 Surp Krikor Lusavoric Church, Karako¨y, Istanbul, 63 Surp Krikor Lusavoric Church, Kayseri, 72 Surp Krikor Lusavoric Church, Kınalıada, Istanbul, 60 Surp Krikor Lusavoric Church, Kuzguncuk, Istanbul, 64, 65, 69 Surp Pırgic Armenian hospital, Yedikule, Istanbul, 32, 38 Surp Yerrortutyun Church, Galata, Istanbul, 65, 67 – 8, 69, 70, 124 Su¨leyman, Sultan, 8, 106 Su¨leymaniye Mosque, Istanbul, 25– 6, 26, 99, 120, 160
270
THE ARCHITECTS OF OTTOMAN CONSTANTINOPLE
symbolism in church decoration, 65 –6, 66 –7, 70, 124 of sovereign power, 84, 98, 103, 104– 9, 118, 124, 130– 2, 132, 133, 136– 7, 140 see also iconography synagogues, 110 syncretism, 62, 94, 98, 129, 134, 140 S¸as¸iyan, Bog˘os, 113 S¸enyurt, Oya, 3 – 4, 21, 22, 46, 89, 167, 168– 9 Tahir, Mehmed, 27 Tahir, Sainte-Barbe student, 78 Tanpınar, Ahmet Hamdi, 9, 99 Tanzimat (reform period) building procedures, 25, 27– 9 craftsmen elite Armenian, 159 European craftsmen and disputes, 163– 6 payment on account to chief, 160–1 use of local, 150– 4 intellectual developments, 9 –10 kalfas delegation of building works to, 162– 3 status of, 28 networks behind, 141– 66 official style and architecture building and patronage, 114– 18 church architecture, 64 coordination of elements, 125– 40 cosmopolitan culture of, 109– 14 entrance gates and entablatures topped by the tug˘ra, 120 Mahmud II and a new order, 100–9 materials and techniques, 122– 3 Ottoman core within a regularized masonry fac ade, 119 overview, 97– 8 repetition of motifs, 123– 5
reuse of structural elements, 120– 2 systemization of plan types, 118– 19 overview, 5 – 7, 8 purchased goods, 154– 9 reform decrees, 5, 12 relationship of imperial building works to the official bureaucratic bodies, 142– 50 Taraf (newspaper), 180 Tas¸cıyan, Nis¸an, 154 Tas¸naks, 7, 170 Tchobanian, Archag, 82, 83 Tek, Vedat, 180 tendering process (mu¨nakasa), 20, 21, 28, 143 Teotik (Lapc inciyan Teotoros), 15, 16, 32, 33, 35, 36, 40, 41, 77, 79, 90 Terzian, Tovmas, 82– 3, 98 Tes¸vikiye Mosque, S¸is¸li, Istanbul, 43, 115, 119, 123, 143, 145, 147, 155 Tevfik Hafız Efendi, 146 Tiflis, 7, 101, 170 Tobni, Aristo, 47 Todori Kalfa, 28, 102 Tophane Clock Tower, Istanbul, 38, 81 Tophane kiosk, Istanbul, 29 Topkapı Palace, Istanbul, 25, 40, 73, 102, 115, 116, 119, 120, 149 Tosun Pas¸a, 60 Touran (publication), 184 Tournachon, Fe´lix (Nadar), 80 Triantz, David, 150 triumphal arches, 84, 125, 130, 132, 133, 138, Pl.5, Pl.7 trompe l’oeil, use of, 123, 129, 132, 132– 3, 133, 134, 138, Pl.6, Pl.7, Pl.18, Pl.23, Pl.29 Tug˘lacı, Pars, 3, 17– 19, 20, 32, 36, 40, 42, 64, 77, 90, 142, 149, 150, 154, 157– 8, 158, 161, 164, 167, 177 tug˘ras (imperial monograms), 36, 66, 70, 84, 85, 102, 103, 104– 5, 106, 107,
INDEX
114, 116, 120, 120, 121, 124, 130, 131, 132, 133, Pl.5, Pl.6, Pl.7 Turgot, Anne-Robert, 103 Turkish Foundation of History, 17 Tuysuziyan, Ohannes, 77 The Twelve Apostles (Behzad), 60 Tzerents, 82 Ubicini, A., 24, 33, 58, 60, 74– 5 Ufuk O¨tesi (publication), 21 –2 ‘Umar ibn al-Khattab, Caliph, 10 Umayyads, 98, 118 United States, 63 urban development, 116– 17 Usul-u Mimari-i Osmani (Rules of Ottoman Architecture, De Launay, Montani etal.), 9, 10, 13, 14, 112, 113, 134 ¨ ss-i Zafer (Foundation of Victory, Es’ad U Efendi), 100, 103 ¨Utu¨cu¨yan, Karapet, 38, 59, 77, 79 vakıf / pl. evkaf (pious foundation[s]), 5, 34, 39, 57, 68, 96, 115, 116, 145 see also Ministry of Pious Foundations vakıfname (deed of endowment), 113, 134 Van Zanth, Ludwig, 9 Vartabed, Derebey Dimoteos, 36 Vartan Pas¸a, Akabi Hikayesi, 96 Vasari, Giorgio, Lives of the Artists, 2, 15, 17 Vasilivis, Yazıcı, 146, 147 Vaudoyer, Le´on, 81, 94, 128, 129 vegetal motifs, 65, 106, 114, 123, 124, 125, 129, 132, Pl.12, Pl.13, Pl.14, Pl.20, Pl.21, Pl.26 Vehbi Efendi, 78 Venice Armenians in, 40, 101 as the ideal city state, 127–8 Il Redentore, 106, 128 Library of San Marco, 127 Mekhitarists in, 36 – 7, 58, 101
271
Piazza San Marco, 128 San Francesco della Vigna Church, 69 San Lazzaro Monastery, 101 Scuola Grande San Rocco, 119, 123, 129 Surp Hac Church, 64 Venetian Renaissance influences, 82, 83, 98, 118, 127–8, 135, 181 Versailles, 101, 106, 115, 122, 123, 133 Vicenza, La Rotonda, 123, 129 Vienna Exposition (1873), 6, 112 Mekhitarists in, 74 Viollet-le-Duc, Euge`ne, 52, 91, 93– 4, 98, 134 Voltaire, 103 Vortik Efendi see Kemhaciyan, Vortik War College, Pangaltı, Istanbul, 114 watch makers (saatcıs), 11, 49, 143 westernization, 6 –7, 8, 9, 12, 18, 19, 72, 76, 89, 99, 104, 178, 182 The Westernization Period in Ottoman Architecture and the Balyan Family (Tug˘lacı), 17 – 19 windows round-arched, 63, 104, 106, Pl.24 wheel, 63, 68, 73, 119, 125, 132, Pl.17 Wo¨lfflin, Heinrich, 97 World War I, 7 Yanko, Elebas¸ı, 146, 147 Yerevan, Cathedral of Gregory the Illuminator, 63 Yerkiyean, Berc, 32 Yesarizade Efendi, 104 Yıldız Palace, Istanbul, 43, 47 Yıldız Pavilion, Istanbul, 37, 41, 46, 95, 117, 143 Yirmisekiz Mehmed C¸elebi, 101 Yorgi Kalfa, 28 Young Armenians, 12, 59, 76, 170 Young Ottomans, 6, 10
272
THE ARCHITECTS OF OTTOMAN CONSTANTINOPLE
Young Turks, 170, 171 Yuvan Kalfa, 148 Zaman (newspaper), 21 Zariffi, Yorgo see Zarifi, Georges Zarifi, Georges, 110, 164
Zartaryan, Vahan, 15, 16, 29, 32 Zartonk (Awakening), 58, 76 Zekeriya, mutemed, 146 Zekiyan, Bog˘os Levon, 76 Zografos, Ahilyos, 148 Zvartnots Church, 62