David Hume - The Dark Ages Collection

Two nephews of Justinian, Boraides and Justus, then entered the Kathisma without meeting resistance. 121They seized Hypatius, who had witnessed the battle from his throne, and secured Pompeius, who was with him. The brothers were taken into the Palace, and, notwithstanding the tears of Pompeius and the pleadings of Hypatius that he had acted under compulsion, 122they were executed on the following day and their bodies were cast into the sea. The Emperor, suspicious though he was, probably believed that they were not morally guilty, but feared that they would be used as tools in future conspiracies. They were too dangerous to be allowed to live, but their children were spared.

The throne of Justinian was saved through the moral energy of Theodora and the loyal efforts of Belisarius. It was not only saved, but it rested now on firmer foundations, for it gave the Emperor the opportunity of taking vigorous measures to break down the opposition of the senatorial nobles to his autocracy. There were no more executions, but eighteen senators who had taken a leading part in the conspiracy were punished by the confiscation of their property and banishment. 123At a later time, when he felt quite secure, Justinian pardoned them and restored to them any of their possessions which he had not already bestowed on others, and a similar restitution was even made to the children of Hypatius and Pompeius.

The news of the Emperor’s victory over his enemies and the execution of the usurper was proclaimed in the cities throughout the Empire. For a long time after this event the factions of the Hippodrome seem to have been on their good behaviour, if we may judge by the silence of the chroniclers. During the last twenty years of the reign riots and faction fights occurred from time to time, but the rival parties did not combine again and the disorders were easily put down. 124

§ 6. St. Sophia

After the suppression of this formidable rebellion, one of the first anxieties of the Emperor was to set about rebuilding the edifices which had been destroyed by fire, above all the church of St. Sophia. He was sitting amidst ruin and devastation, and it would be natural if he had thought of nothing but restoring the wrecked buildings as rapidly as possible; but he saw in the calamity an opportunity for making his capital more magnificent, and constructing a church which would be the wonder of the world. The damage might well have been made good in two years if he had been content to rebuild on the same scale; the work he designed took five years, and considering what was accomplished the time seems incredibly short.

Forty days after the tumult had subsided, the ruins of the church were cleared away, neighbouring houses were bought up, and space was provided for a new temple of the Divine Wisdom. The plans were prepared by Anthemius of Tralles, an architect and engineer who possessed imagination as well as mastery of his craft, and to him was entrusted the direction of the work, with Isidore of Miletus as his assistant. It is to be noted that both these architects were natives of Asia Minor. We cannot doubt that Anthemius had already given proofs of his skill as a builder, and it is not bold to conjecture that he was the architect of the church of SS. Sergius and Bacchus, which Justinian and Theodora had caused to be erected at the beginning of their reign. Justinian had extended the precincts of the Great Palace to take in the house of Hormisdas — on the seashore, south of the Hippodrome — which had been his residence before he ascended the throne; and close to it he built two churches side by side with a common court, a basilica of SS. Peter and Paul, which has disappeared, 125and the octagonal domed church of SS. Sergius and Bacchus, which has survived, converted by the Turks into a mosque which they call the Little St. Sophia. The names of the Emperor and Empress are associated in the metrical inscription which is still to be seen on the frieze and their monograms can be read on the beautiful “melon” capitals. Modern architects have paid tribute to the remarkable skill with which the dome has been buttressed and weighted, and we may divine that it was the skill of Anthemius, of whom a contemporary said that he “designed wonderful works both in the city and in many other places which would suffice to win him everlasting glory in the memory of men so long as they stand and endure.” 126

His plan of St. Sophia was different. It is a Greek cross (about 250 by 225 feet) with a dome rising above the quadrilateral space between the arms to the height of 180 feet. He undertook to solve the problem of placing a great aerial cupola, 100 feet in diameter, over this space which was 100 feet square. Hitherto cupolas had been set over round spaces. At each angle of the square Anthemius erected a massive pier, in which the settings of the stones were strengthened by special methods. These piers supported the four arches and pendentives on which the ribbed dome rested, and he calculated on securing stability by the semi-domes on the east and west and buttresses on the north and south. To diminish the weight of the dome very light materials were used, tiles of a white spongy earth manufactured at Rhodes. 127

The material of St. Sophia, as of most Byzantine churches, was brick. Its exterior appearance, seen from below, does not give a true impression of its dimensions. The soaring cupola is lost and buried amid the surrounding buttresses that were added to secure it in later ages. From afar one can realise its proportions, lifted high above all the other buildings and dominating the whole city like a watch-tower, as Procopius described it. But in it, as in other Byzantine churches, the contrast between the plainness of the exterior and the richness of the interior decoration is striking. Although the mosaic pictures, including the great cross on a starry heaven at the summit of the dome, are now concealed from the eyes of faithful Moslems by whitewash, the marbles of the floor, the walls, and the pillars show us that the rapturous enthusiasm of Justinian’s contemporaries as to the total effect was not excessive. The roof was covered with pure gold, but the beauty of the effect lay, it was observed, rather in the answering reflexions from the marbles than from the gold itself. The marbles from which were hewn the pillars and the slabs that covered the walls and floor were brought from all quarters of the world. There was the white stone from the quarries in the Proconnesian islands near at hand, green cipollino from Carystus in Euboea, verde antico from Laconia and Thessaly, Numidian marble glinting with the gold of yellow crocuses, red and white from Caria, white-misted rose from Phrygia, porphyry from Upper Egypt. To Procopius the building gave the impression of a flowering meadow.

While the artists of the time showed skill and study in blending and harmonising colours, the sculptured decoration of the curves of the arches with acanthus and vine tendrils, and the beauty of the capitals of white Proconnesian marble, are not less wonderful. The manufacture of capitals for export had long been an industry at Constantinople, and we can trace the evolution of their forms. The old Corinthian capital, altered by the substitution of the thorny for the soft acanthus, had become what is known as the “Theodosian” capital. 128But it was found that this was not suitable for receiving and supporting the arch, and the device was introduced of placing above it an intermediate “impost,” in the form of a truncated and reversed pyramid, which was usually ornamented with vine or acanthus, a cross or a monogram. Then, apparently early in the sixth century, the Theodosian capital and the impost were combined into a single block, the “capital impost,” which assumed many varieties of form. 129