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Between Myth and Reality: the 'Tuscan Influence' on the Architecture

of Mount Lebanon in the Emirate Period

Article  in  Journal of Design History · June 2007

DOI: 10.1093/jdh/epm010

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 Journal of Design History Advance Access published July 10, 2007
Journal of Design History Vol. 20 No. 2
re: focus design
Between Myth and Reality: the Tuscan
Influence on the Architecture of Mount
Lebanon in the Emirate Period
Elie Haddad
Lebanese culture has been impregnated with the
notion that architectural developments during the
emirate from Fakhreddine II to Bechir III were real-
ized by Tuscan builders who participated in the cul-
tural renaissance of the area, and that by extension
these landmarks of the emirate were indebted to the
Italian Renaissance.1 This notion of Tuscan influence
on the architecture of Mount Lebanon in the seven-
teenth and eighteenth centuries been accepted with-
out critical evaluation, owing to the scarcity of
documents and the secondary role accorded architec-
ture in the political formation of the national identity.
The principal reference to which we can trace any of
these ideas is the work of Father Paul Carali, author of
a documentary study on the correspondence between
Emir Fakhreddine II and the Medicis, collected from
the archives of Florence and Rome, and published in
Rome in 1936.2 An earlier reference can be found in
the work of Issa Iskandar Malouf, author of a series of
articles on Fakhreddine II, which celebrated the
political and cultural achievements of the Emir as a
cornerstone in the foundation of a modern state on
the European model.3 We also find some references
to this Western influence in other histories such as the
seminal work of the Jesuit Henri Lammens,4 the work
of Boulos Noujaim5 and that of Michel Chebli.6
Historic documents do corroborate that Italian
experts were invited to Mount Lebanon during that
period to assist in realizing various infrastructural
projects as part of the Medici’s political engagement
with their allies in Mount Lebanon.7 Popular imagi-
nation has, however, extended this into a ‘Risorgi-
mento’ that translates architecturally and artistically
the Italian Renaissance on this side of the Mediterra-
nean. References to this effect appear in the popular
© The Author [2007]. Published by Oxford University Press on behalf of The Design History Society. All rights reserved.
doi:10.1093/jdh/epm010
literature, in addition to the ‘national history’ taught
in the schools, celebrating the impressive achieve-
ments of the emirate. In one such essay, the author
evoked the splendour of the period in these terms:
The heavy edifices of this feudal town speak of a short his-
torical parenthesis which was opened and swiftly closed in
the chronicles of the Lebanese mountain. But this opening
was sufficient as it allowed a reinvigorating breeze of
Risorgimento, of Italian Renaissance at a smaller scale,
to blow on the Shouf Mountains, conferring on them a
Tuscan parentage and a Palladian appearance.9
Although the same author noted the Arabic influ-
ences that remain preponderant in the new style
(referred to as a hybrid of the Oriental and the
Renaissance) the text is rich in references to Tuscan
influence, which transformed the landscape of Deir el
Kamar into a ‘princely domain in Tuscany’.10 Such
architectural and aesthetic notions, although limited in
their effect on the popular imaginary, contributed
nevertheless to the idealization of the Lebanese moun-
tain as a landscape that is distinct from its hinterland, and
by extension, from its geographical expanse.11 The Tus-
can influence on the architecture of Mount Lebanon
during the emirate appears in retrospect as a false prem-
ise which nevertheless indirectly contributed to the later
idealization of the Lebanese landscape in popular cul-
ture.12 We will show that the import of ideas from Italy
came primarily through the efforts of Maronite clergy-
men who studied in Rome, some of whom subse-
quently returned to Lebanon, applying some of their
acquired skills in the design of religious buildings in the
nineteenth century. This paper examines some of the
aspects of this exchange and its consequences in archi-
tectural terms on the development of local architecture.
1
 Elie Haddad
The Mount Lebanon emirate in
history
The emirate denotes the period from the beginning
of the seventeenth until the middle of the nineteenth
century, characterized by most historians as being the
period of gestation of the Lebanese identity, which
came to fruition in the twentieth century with the
founding of the nation-state of Lebanon.13 Already
during that period, the territory under the emirate,
which covered mainly the Mount Lebanon chain,
expanding and retracting according to political and
military events, was given a nominal independence
within the Ottoman Empire.
Where can we trace Tuscan influence on this prov-
ince, in terms of architecture? The presumed line of
influence goes back to the direct relations between
Fakhreddine II, Emir of Mount Lebanon and the
court of the Medicis in Florence. Fakhreddine II
went to Florence in AD 1613 fleeing the Ottomans,
who grew suspicious of his increased independence
and territorial claims. During this time, he stayed
principally in Livorno and Florence as a guest of the
Medicis [1613–15], and then as a guest of the Span-
iards in Sicily and Napoli [1615–18]. Upon his return
to Lebanon, Fakhreddine II wrote to the Medicis ask-
ing for their assistance in the art of modern fortifica-
tions. He delegated to Ibrahim al-Haqlani14 the
mission of carrying his request to Florence and find-
ing the technical and military experts he needed. The
original request by the Emir also included a medical
doctor, an architect experienced in the building of
palaces, bridges and fortifications, as well as a master
builder experienced in waterworks and another one
in designing and building water fountains, a gardener
and a baker, in addition to six to eight families of
farmers to train the locals in the Italian methods of
agriculture.15 There were no specific requests for any
major architect, or anyone with a training under any
of the masters of the time whose work could have
impressed the Emir during his stay in Italy. Addition-
ally, Fakhreddine II requested from the Maronite
Patriarchate the translation of one work on fortifica-
tions.16 This raises a question regarding the aesthetic
considerations of this Emir, who had been described
by the Chevalier d’Arvieux as being a man of intense
curiosity and great interest in the arts, poetry and
music.17 How could a man of his intellectual breadth
have only utilitarian concerns and neglect, for
2
instance, Alberti’s treatise on the art of building, to
name just one of the major works on the art of build-
ing of the Renaissance?
According to Father Carali, the architectural pro-
jects of the Emir started mainly around 1631, upon
the arrival of the Tuscan experts, who included an
architect by the name of Francesco Cioli and a master
builder, Francesco Fagni.18 It would be safe to assume
that Fagni would have supervised the waterworks
projects, construction of bridges at Nahr-el-Kalb,
Sidon and Beirut and other infrastructural and urban
works in Deir el Kamar, the capital of the emirate, in
addition to other major towns. This would, of course,
fall well within the main preoccupations of the Emir
at the time, namely to insure the protection of his
emirate, and to equip it with an infrastructural system
that would allow his troops facility of movement, as
well as improving the living standards of his subjects
by developing a water supply system and training
them in new agricultural methods. No specific build-
ings were attributed to Cioli, who may have been in
charge of building the palace of Beirut, and the one
in Sidon.
In this case, architecture must have taken a back-
ground position, despite the assertions of some his-
torians who relate that Tuscan builders were able in
this short period to create ‘magnificent landmarks
which testify to the Italian ingenuity in all artistic
matters’.19 One of the major examples of those mag-
nificent landmarks may have been the Emir’s palace
in Beirut, which was, we are told by one traveller,
‘designed in the Italian style, with its gardens and
stables and reserve of wild animals’, and which con-
stituted one of the ‘wonders of the Orient’ accord-
ing to another.20 D’Arvieux compared the palace of
Beirut to that of Sidon, while Maundrell gave a bet-
ter description of its landscaping, its ornate marble
fountain and its vast gardens.21 Giovanni Mariti’s
account, claiming that the palace in Beirut betrayed
its Arabic lineage, is one of the few architectural
descriptions we have of this work, which was falling
into ruins and disappeared around the end of the
nineteenth century.22 Carali interpreted the Arabic
lineage as an attempt by the Tuscan builders to
accommodate the Emir’s wishes, creating a work
that would fit in its context. Mariti also attributed
to Tuscan artists the sculptures that were created
for the rectangular courtyard, which was furnished
with mosaics of different colours.23 The design of
 Re-Evaluation of the ‘Tuscan Influence’

the palace gardens may have revealed a more direct context, did not seem to impress some travellers, such
influence of Tuscan landscaping ideas. as Volney, (pen name of C-F Chasseboeuf) who
Among the other major works of that period, wrote at the end of the eighteenth century:
Fakreddine II’s palace in Deir el Kamar, his capital,
The land of the Druzes offers few places of interest. The
which should have held the highest symbolic impor- most interesting is Deir-el-Kamar, or the House of the
tance, confirms the hypothesis of the secondary role Moon, which is the capital and residence of the Emirs. This
that aesthetics played in his priorities, as well as the is not a city, but simply a large town poorly built and quite
limited role that any Tuscan influence played at that
time. The palace is a fortified construction with few
openings, which owes more in its detailing to Egyp-
tian Mamelouk architecture than to Tuscany, with a
complete absence of any elements that may be attrib-
uted to the Italian Renaissance. The decorative ele-
ment of note in this rather massive construction is the
entrance doorway, with its alternating bands of white
and yellow limestone, typical of Mameluk and Otto-
man architecture. The neighbouring palace of Gergis
Baz, one of the Emir’s chief administrators, as well as
the palace of Younes Maan, also features elaborate
doorways that clearly indicate a taste for Oriental
ornamentation rather than the Classical ornament
revived in the Renaissance [1–3].
The architectural typology that appeared with the Fig 2. Palace of Gergis Baz, Deir el Kamar
palaces of Deir el Kamar would continue to influence
the secular and religious buildings of the period,
where a minimal ornamentation restricted to specific
parts such as doorways, mandaloun windows and
musharabiyehs would be the only enriching elements
in an otherwise austere architecture, due in part to
economic, political and military reasons. The Emirs
of Mount Lebanon could not ostentatiously display
their wealth without attracting the jealousy of the
Ottoman governors. Thus, the building, as well as the

Fig 1. Fakhreddine II’s palace in Deir el Kamar Fig 3. Palace of Younes Maan, portal detail, Deir el Kamar

3
 Elie Haddad
dirty. It is situated on the backhill of a mountain, at the foot
of which flows one of the derivatives of the river Tamyras,
today the river of Damour. […] The Serail, or the palace of
the prince, is nothing but a large and badly built mansion
about to fall in ruin.24
In addition to the two palaces in Beirut and Deir
el Kamar, Fakhreddine II also built the Serail and
the Khan of Sidon, the other major centre in the
emirate that the Emir is credited for turning into
one of the most flourishing cities of the Levant.25
The Serail, which today lies in ruins, was built as a
solid construction of dressed stone. It was well
described by D’Arvieux, who noted its sumptuously
decorated and elegant apartments, its pleasant ter-
races and rich landscaping. 26 Yet the detailed
descriptions of D’Arvieux never mention any sur-
prising details in this context, details that could
betray any Italian influence.
To place these architectural achievements of the
emirate in context, the Emir would have certainly
seen the major masterpieces of the Renaissance during
his exile in Florence, namely the Duomo of Santa
Maria in Florence by Brunelleschi with its campanile
and baptistry, and Santa Maria Novella, the façade of
which was completed by Alberti in 1450, to name a
few of the religious edifices in the city. On an urban
scale, he would have visited the Galleria degli Uffizi,
commissioned by Cosimo I under the direction of
Vasari to house the administrative offices of the city.
Most importantly in this case, he would have been
impressed by the Palazzo Pitti, the residence of the
Medicis, which he visited upon his arrival and at many
other occasions during his stay.27 Besides the Palazzo
Vecchio and the Palazzo Medici-Riccardi, where he
stayed,28 there were a number of other landmarks in
Florence that would have caught his attention. Also,
his initial stay in Livorno, one of the ‘ideal’ cities of
the Renaissance, could not have failed to impress him.
Yet of all these diverse models one finds basically no
influence on the architecture of the emirate, unless the
palace of Beirut could have offeres the only specimen
of this architecture, something that is doubtful if we
take into account the travellers’ accounts as well as the
surviving constructions of the emirate period.
The emirate’s other landmark was the palace of
Beiteddine, built by Bechir II [1788–1840] at the
beginning of the nineteenth century on the other
side of the mountain, overlooking Deir el Kamar.
This palace was meant to impress friend and foe, as it
4
was built after a series of battles, at the end of which
Beshir II prevailed over other competing lords of the
mountain.29 Yet again this palace, which was com-
pleted almost two centuries after Fakhreddine’s, did
not indicate any radical departure from regional
building traditions. These aspects did not go unno-
ticed by travellers such as John Murray who described
the palace in these terms:
We first enter a courtyard, whose battlemented walls look
out on Deir-el-Kamar—the mountainsides below breaking
down in terraced slopes to the distant sea. Thence there is
an ascent by a broad staircase into another court. Here on
the left is a light Saracenic portal leading to the Hall of
Audience and the private apartments of the late Emir. The
apartments were light and lofty, finished in the Damascus
style, with tesselated pavements of marble, raised daises, in-
laid walls, arabesqued ceilings all gold and glitter […].30
Whether the portal is of Saracenic or rather Mam-
elouk inspiration, is not the main issue. What is clear
is the lack of any correspondence that these Western
travellers drew between these palaces and their con-
temporaries in Italy or Spain, or other parts of Europe,
even in their interior layout and their decoration,
which remained ‘Oriental’ in style [4,5].
How can we account for the striking continuity of
building traditions in what was the most autonomous
province of the Ottoman Empire, and one with long
established and extensive trading connections? It
appears that in Mount Lebanon, the Ottoman prac-
tice of employing local masons as masters of construc-
tion projects, rather than artists or architects, prevailed.
The emergence of the architect as an individual
Fig 4. Bechir II’s palace, Beiteddine
 Re-Evaluation of the ‘Tuscan Influence’
Fig 5. Bechir II’s palace, detail of portal, Beiteddine
designer, less bound by traditions and more open to
foreign ideas and influences, did not take place until
the twentieth century. Architecture in Mount Leba-
non therefore did not witness any radical ‘renaissance’
which, in the manner of the Italian Renaissance,
would emancipate architecture from the building
trades, bringing forth individual artists and architects
such as Brunelleschi, Palladio, Serlio, Alberti or
Michelangelo. In these provinces of the Ottoman
Empire, far away from the capital Istanbul, the respon-
sibility for building remained the prerogative of
master masons, monitored in the major cities by a
mi’mar bashi, whose post was equivalent to that of a
superintendent of public works.31 There is no evi-
dence that the Emirs of Mount Lebanon broke with
this long-established practice. Indeed, an interesting
document from the period confirms the persistent
lack of texts that specifically deal with architecture.
One of the Jesuit missionaries sent to Beirut to pre-
pare for the founding of the Jesuit Seminary, later to
become the Jesuit University, wrote in 1833 to his
superiors in Rome asking them to send:
5
a few more books on the illnesses of animals and the treat-
ments to be given, also on the cultivation of fields. If you
could also discover a Vignola or any other good treatise on
building and the arts and crafts in general, this would be of
much use here. The Arab Emirs always request from us
explanations on the subjects of arts, which are unknown
here. After Medicine, this subject would enable us to get
better introduced in this area.32
The Italian influence on religious
architecture
After palatial architecture, which does not exhibit sig-
nificant traces of Tuscan influence, it is to religious
architecture that we turn our attention. This displays
somewhat more affinity to Italian Renaissance sources
in some of its details, although again the references
are fragmentary and idiosyncratic. In this case, how-
ever, there is a more plausible rationale for an influ-
ence: an interest in imbuing local religious architecture
with Catholic taste fitted with the efforts made by the
Maronite Church to consolidate, aesthetically as well
as ideologically, its attachment to the Roman Catho-
lic church.
Reinforced by the influx of Maronite theologians,
who had been admitted to the seminaries in Rome
since the end of the fifteenth century, these endeav-
ours must surely have found a better ideological
ground in the young minds of seminarians who some-
times returned with a religious training compounded
by a newfound interest in the arts.33 Some observers,
such as Volney, did not see any concrete translations
of this experience beyond a basic education in theol-
ogy, and the learning of the Italian language. He
commented:
The court of Rome, in affiliating the Maronites, gave them
a hospice in Rome, where they could send their young
men to receive a free education. It seems that this process
should have introduced in them the arts and ideals of Eu-
rope: but the students of this school, restricted to a purely
monastic education, only bring back to their country the
Italian language, which is of no use, and a theological
knowledge that leads them to nothing: henceforth, they
soon fall back into the common class of people.34
Despite this rather dismissive assessment by Vol-
ney, it appears that the Italian exposure nevertheless
bore fruits at the architectural level, even if these
came at a much later date. A number of churches and
 Elie Haddad

chapels in the mountain villages as well as in the cities Brother Leonard, who introduced this delicate refine-
testify to this infiltration of Italianate taste in the nine- ment to the existing traditions. The adjoining chapel
teenth and early twentieth centuries, visible in the in turn is marked by a modest Ionic pilaster which
modest classical details that frame church entrances, frames the entrance doorway, while the interior is left
belfries, pediments, windows and other motifs which in its stone vaulted construction, with decorative ribs
are added as ornamental supplements to the tradi- articulating the edges of the vaults, in a pseudo-
tional Mount Lebanon church type. Yet even in this Gothic fashion. Again one does not find here any
realm, the foreign intervention remains limited and
the church as a whole conserves its traditional form
with a modest interior space devoid of any of the
accoutrements of Renaissance churches.35 In few
cases, the church façade is given an Italianate facelift,
while the interior continues to exhibit its stone vault
construction without any decorative treatments [6–8].
Even in the monastery of Bkerke, the seat of the
Maronite Patriarch, we find only a limited interven-
tion in the form of applied motifs to the traditional
vernacular language. The cloister of Bkerke devel-
oped in successive phases into a main pavilion which
now frames an internal court, leading to another
pavilion that features a modest Renaissance portal.
The author of this addition appears to be a certain

Fig 7. Church in Ghadir, facade detail

Fig 6. Chapel in Ghadir, Keserwan Fig 8. Church in Ghadir, interior

6
 Re-Evaluation of the ‘Tuscan Influence’
significant traces of Renaissance influence, either in
the use of classical motifs or in the treatment of the
internal walls and ceiling [9–11].
Towards the end of the nineteenth century, two
imposing churches of Western type were erected: the
Maronite cathedral in Beirut and the Maronite cathedral
in Batroun, both by the Italian architect Guiseppe
Maggiori. The Beirut cathedral [1884–94], more than
its sister in Batroun, clearly expresses its Italianate lineage
in its classical proportions, pediment and the com-
bined use of Ionic pilasters and columns on the main
façade, as well as its interior spatial organization and
detailing. The interior of the church reflects a desire
to modernize the traditional church interior by
replacing the traditional vault construction by a cof-
fered ceiling, opening up the space and accentuating
Fig 9. Bkerke Cloister, entrance detail
Fig 10. Bkerke Cloister, church entrance detail
7
its perspectival vision. This cathedral represents one
of the most elaborate examples of Renaissance influ-
ence on religious architecture in Lebanon, despite
some of its regional accents, namely the use of local
sandstone and the modest articulations of the façade,
compared with the façade of Il Gesu in Rome, a
church which served as a paradigmatic example for
many of the churches in Italy and elsewhere. The
imposing style and Westernizing accents must have
left some deep impressions at the time, especially if
one compares this new cathedral to the more modest
religious edifices then existing in the city [12,13].36
The question of the ideological programme of the
Maronite Church, as far as architecture is concerned,
needs further study. Whether these limited architec-
tural operations were tied to an ideological pro-
gramme aimed at charting a new direction in religious
architecture, reflecting the Church’s recent affiliation
with the Roman Catholic church, remains an open
question.37 What is evident, however, is that the
importation of Western ideas in architecture did not
come so much through civic works such as town
Fig 11. Bkerke Cloister, church interior
 Elie Haddad
Fig 12. Maronite Cathedral, Beirut, facade
halls, villas or palaces, as is conventionally assumed, as
through religious and specifically Maronite architec-
ture, which translated in one way or another the
growing exchange between this Church and the
Church of Rome.
The Central Hall House
The third area of influence is that of the domestic
house, and especially what is commonly known as
the ‘Lebanese House’, in its most developed type: the
Central Hall House. The Central Hall was character-
istic of the patrician houses in the major cities, or the
feudal and noble mansions in the mountains of Leba-
non. It is characterized by its cubic form, surmounted
by a red-tile roof, with the tiles imported from Mar-
seille, and its triple-arch openings at the centre of the
main façade. The material of construction was always
stone: sandstone covered by stucco in the cities on
the coast, and limestone in the mountains. Father
Carali, writing in the 1930s, attributed to the early
seventeenth-century Tuscan mission of experts that
8
Fig 13. Maronite Cathedral, Beirut, interior [after restoration]
was sent to the Emir the introduction of the red-tile
roof, characteristic of the Lebanese House, as well as
the typical arcade that distinguishes the facade, in
addition to a reconfiguration of the house interior
around a central atrium.38 Yet this assertion is in con-
tradiction to most evidence about the appearance of
this type of architecture, which dates it to the middle
of the nineteenth century [14].
Among the first architectural studies to look at this
vernacular housing tradition were Kalayan and Liger-
Belair’s publication.39 In this study, the two authors
each take a different position on the lineage of this
house type. Kalayan traced the Central Hall House to
the original house types found in Byblos around 3000
BC, conceding that this specific type seems to be the
genuine expression of an authentic tradition which
kept evolving since, even retracing the characteristic
triple-arch opening to ancient prototypes in the
region.40 Although Liger-Belair also seems to con-
cede the Lebanese identity of the Central Hall House,
he nevertheless introduces another possibility, that of
its relation to the Venetian palatial architecture of the
 Re-Evaluation of the ‘Tuscan Influence’
Renaissance.41 Liger-Belair did not exclude the pos-
sibility of this cross-fertilization between East and
West as the origin of this specific type, which returns
from Venice to the cities on the Lebanese coast,
implemented here in its specific variation.42
In another study, Friedrich Ragette, who drew a
detailed analysis of the typology of the domestic house
in Lebanon, dismissed the hypothesis of its possible
derivation from the Venetian palazzi, concluding that
this typology and its constitutive elements, such as the
triple-arch, were indigenous developments in tune
with local climatic, topographic, social and other fac-
tors. Ragette’s conclusions attributed these common
typologies and the recurrence of certain motifs, such
as the pointed arch, to the widespread dissemination
of building traditions across the Mediterranean since
antiquity. Yet the developments in each case were by
and large particular to each culture and climate.43
The topic of the Lebanese House and its most illus-
trious example, the Central Hall House, remains a
question open to different interpretations. Recently,
it was again the subject of a collective work in which
different authors addressed its origin and variations in
Lebanon and the region.44 Semaan Kfouri again
brought up the surprising similarities between the
houses along the Venetian Canal and the Lebanese
House, without necessarily conceding a direct lineage
9
Fig 14. Central Hall House,
Beirut
between the former, which appeared around the thir-
teenth century, and the latter, which only appeared
around the mid-nineteenth century.45 May Davie, in
a morphological study which went deeper into the
sources, did not reach a definite conclusion on the
origin of this type, but attributed it to a multiplicity of
sources and influences, mainly local masons, engi-
neers and artists who have contributed their skills and
knowledge to its development, leading to the most
refined example that would constitute the ‘model’.
Davie seemed to favour implicitly the theory of local
evolution, with influences from abroad limited to
techniques and materials, which naturally accompa-
nied the gradual modernization of that period.46
Davie’s hypothesis is the most plausible, taking into
consideration that most of these mansions date back
to the nineteenth century, and not to the earlier
period of the emirate. The Central Hall constitutes a
major archetype, a type that has been in constant use
since antiquity, not exclusively Tuscan, or Venetian,
or Lebanese for that matter. On the other hand, the
two major Renaissance models, the villa and the pala-
zzo—the villa as epitomized by Palladio in the Vene-
tian countryside, and the palazzo in its multiple
variations—did not find any translations in the cities
or mountains of Lebanon. One may attribute this to
the limitations of materials and construction
 Elie Haddad
techniques, as well as to the rather conservative cli-
mate in which the local vernacular evolved, a ver-
nacular which was adapted successfully to the
functional and cultural specificities of the local cul-
ture, and to the topography of the Lebanese moun-
tains. Still, the absence of any interpretations of these
Italian models in local forms poses some serious
questions about any presumed Tuscan influence on
Lebanese architecture as a whole.
Conclusion
As I suggested at the beginning of this paper, it
appears from the extant examples of the architecture
of the period that the ‘Tuscan influence’ on architec-
ture in Mount Lebanon from the seventeenth century
has been largely a matter of speculation, despite the
political and economic relations that evolved between
the emirate and the court of the Medicis in Florence.
These relations did mark the political and economic
history of the period and over the following centuries
contributed to the evolution of a distinct, cosmopoli-
tan Lebanese culture. This exchange did not, how-
ever, translate significantly into architecture as
happened, for instance, in England, Portugal, Scandi-
navia or Latin America during the same period. Such
dissemination as took place in Lebanon can be traced
best—though to a limited extent—in religious archi-
tecture, as ‘ornamental infusions’. These may have
carried within them, consciously or unconsciously, a
desire to give form to the ideological project of devel-
oping a Lebanese identity separate and distinct from
its immediate geographic context.
Elie Haddad
Lebanese American University
E-mail: ehaddad@lau.edu.lb
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Notes
1 This is reflected in the official history book for elementary
education, which gives a synopsis of this ‘common’ knowledge
on the topic. Fakhreddine II is portrayed in this official history
as a visionary who founded the state of Lebanon and charted a
new building programme across the country:
‘Fakhreddine took great interest in architecture in Lebanon.
He reorganized the coastal cities and created gardens and built
10
luxurious palaces. He was assisted in this by architects from
Italy and Lebanese builders. The notables in the country
imitated the Emir in their own palatial architecture, and
building activity spread in all regions in the country.’
Al Tarikh, 5th Year Elementary, Ministry of Education, Beirut,
2000 [p. 35, my translation].
2 Paolo Carali, Fakhr ad-Din II Principo del Libano e la Corte di
Toscana, 2 vols., Reale Accademia d’Italia, Roma, 1936,
translated into Arabic in Reale Accademia d’Italia, Roma,
1938, reprinted in Dar Lahd Khater, Beirut, 1992. All references
to this document are in the Arabic version.
3 The ideological construction of the history of Lebanon and its
multiple variations is well analysed by Ahmad Beydoun in his
Le Liban: Une Histoire Disputee: Identite et Temps dans
l’historiographie libanaise contemporaine, Universite Libanaise,
Beyrouth, 1989 [text in Arabic]. In this regard, the role of
Fakhreddine II is important in the foundational myth of the
Lebanese state, and is related differently by a number of authors,
each stressing the particular aspects that appeal to them in their
interpretation of historic events. The most prominent of those
historians of the emirate were Jouplain, Malouf, Lammens,
Carali, Khalidi, Ismail, Noujaim and Chebli. Beydoun uncovers
the different interpretations of Fakhreddine II by these
historians and their ideological underpinnings, exposing their
fault lines which split around the ‘Arabic’, ‘Syrian’ and
‘Lebanese’ poles, as well as the ‘European Model’ illustrated by
his architectural achievements versus the Islamic model of
political governance. Beydoun, pp. 385–425.
4 Lammens notes in passing, in his survey of the history of the
region, that Fakhreddine resided alternately in Beirut and
Sidon, in palaces furnished by Western artists. See Henri
Lammens, La Syrie, Precis Historique, Lahd Khater, Beyrouth,
1994 [originally published in 1921], vol. 1, ch. 13.
5 Noujaim emphasized the European model on which the
new state of Fakhreddine II was established. A. Beydoun, op.
cit., pp. 392–6.
6 Michel Chebli, Fakhreddine II Maan, Prince du Liban, Universite
Libanaise, Beyrouth, 1984.
7 See Philip Hitti’s A Short History of Lebanon, St Martin’s Press,
New York, 1965.
8 Ibid.
9 Raja Choueiri, Deir-al-Qamar et Fakhreddine, Beyrouth, Felix
Beryte, 1999, pp. 9–11 [my translation].
10 Ibid.
11 Choueiri’s essay also offers an example of this, when he infers
from this cultural and artistic movement the beginnings of a
clear demarcation between the Lebanese landscape and its
hinterland:
‘[…] the Lebanese Mountain will from this moment on and for
centuries to come begin to denote to foreign observers some
specific signs previously unseen in the Orient, which in the
fields of civic or military architecture, in certain works of
art, in agriculture, in customs, language and culture evoke
the influence of renascent Italy, and more generally, that of
Europe.’ [p. 10]
12 In addition to the foundational myths that dealt with the
prehistoric Lebanon, the Lebanese identity relied strongly on a
romantic representation of the Lebanon Mountains as an
idealized space. See Elise Salem’s Constructing Lebanon: A
Century of Literary Narratives, University Press of Florida, 2003.
 Re-Evaluation of the ‘Tuscan Influence’
13 Kamal Salibi, The Modern History of Lebanon, 1st edn.,
Weidenfeld & Nicolson, London, 1965.
14 Ibrahim al Haqlani was a notable man in his time. After
studying to become a Maronite monk, he left the order but
continued to serve his community, and assisted the Emir as his
ambassador to the court of Tuscany, and worked as a tradesman
among other activities. See Nasser Gemayel, Les Echanges
Culturels entre les Maronites et l’Europe, 2 vols., Beyrouth, 1984.
15 P. Carali, op. cit., pp. 310–3.
16 M. Chebli, op. cit., chs. 10 and 11.
17 Quoted in M. Chebli, op. cit., p. 17.
18 P. Carali, op. cit., pp. 152, 312.
19 Ibid., p. 152.
20 Ibid., p. 152.
21 M. Chebli, op. cit., pp. 111–13.
22 Giovanno Mariti, Travels through Cyprus, Syria, and Palestine
with a General History of the Levant, Robinson, London,
1791–92. Mariti’s account is also related in P. Carali, op.
cit., p. 153.
23 P. Carali, op. cit., p. 153.
24 Constantin-Francois Casseboeuf, Travels in Egypt and Syria,
vol. 2, 1787, pp. 84–5.
25 M. Chebli, op. cit., p. 109.
26 Quoted in Ibid., pp. 109–10.
27 Carali relates, based on the documents, the arrival of the Emir
to Florence, and his reception at the Palazzo Pitti, which he
entered from the garden side. See P. Carali, op. cit., p. 190.
28 Fakhreddine II is reported to have stayed in Pope Leo X’s
apartment at the Palazzo Vecchio while in Florence while his
main address remained in Livorno until May 1614. In June
1614, he moved to Palazzo Medici Riccardi, where he stayed
until July 1615. See Hafez Chehab’s ‘Reconstructing the
Medici Portrait of Fakhr Al-Din Al Ma’ani’, Muqarnas, vol. 11,
1994, pp. 117–24.
29 K. Salibi, op. cit., p. 68.
30 John Murray, Handbook for Travellers in Syria & Palestine,
Murray, London, 1875.
31 Antoine Abdel Nour, Introduction a l’Histoire Urbaine de la Syrie
Ottomane, Univ. Libanaise, Beyrouth, 1982, pp. 137–54.
32 Letter of Father Paul Riccadoma to Fathers Figani and Ryllo,
dated 24 November 1833, p. 140, in Sami Kuri’s Une Histoire
du Liban a travers les archives des Jesuites, 3 vols., dar el Mashreq,
Beyrouth, 1996 [my translation].
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33 The Maronite Seminary was founded under Gregory XIII in
1584, for the purpose of educating Maronite theologians in
Rome. This college counted among its graduates in the
seventeenth century, Jibrail al Sahyuni and the already mentioned
Ibrahim al Haqlani also known under the Latin name of Abraham
Ecchellensis. See K. Salibi, op. cit., pp. 219–21.
34 Quoted in K. Salibi, op. cit., pp. 221–2.
35 One of the major architects of Maronite religious architecture
in the twentieth century is the monk Neemtallah el-Maadi
[1881–1954], who studied at the Beaux Arts in Paris and
Brussels, and after the First World War became the major
architect of Maronite churches in Lebanon.
36 This aspect was noted as well by Samir Kassir in his
comprehensive history of Beirut. See Samir Kassir’s Histoire de
Beyrouth, Fayard, Paris, 2003, pp. 181–2.
37 In contrast with the aesthetic issues, the political process of the
Maronite Church’s affiliation with Rome was well documented
in historic archives and revisited by historians. On the
transactions that led to the Maronite Church eventual affiliation
with Rome, see Ghassan al Ayyache’s Majama’ al Louaizeh
1736, Dar al Takadoumia, Beirut, 1991 [in Arabic].
38 P. Carali, op. cit., p. 153.
39 Haroutune Kalayan & Jacques Liger-Belair, L’Habitation au
Liban, APSAD, Beyrouth, 1970.
40 ‘If the Central Hall house is considered, appropriately as it
seems, to be specifically Lebanese, the Triple Arcade symbolizes
for everyone the “Lebanese tradition”’. H. Kalayan & J. Liger-
Belair, op. cit., part I, p. 36 [my translation].
41 Liger-Belair bases his analogy on Hilde Zaloscer’s study
‘Survivance et Migration’, Melanges Islamologiques, Cairo, no.
1, 1954. H. Kalayan & J. Liger-Belair, op. cit., part II, p. 74.
42 H. Kalayan & J. Liger-Belair, op. cit., part II, p. 77.
43 Friedrich Ragette, Architecture in Lebanon, Caravan Books,
New York, 1974, pp. 115–19, 166–80.
44 Michael Davie, editor of the study, contributed an article
which critically evaluates the ideological discourse that has
surrounded the Lebanese House. For more, see his ‘La “maison
aux trois arcs” et la construction ideologique du patrimoine au
Liban’, in La Maison Beyrouthine Aux Trois Arcs: une architecture
bourgeoise du Levant, Michael Davie (ed.), ALBA & Tours:
CREUMA, Beyrouth, 2003, pp. 343–69.
45 Semaan Kfouri, ‘La maison a hall central au Liban: origines,
influences, identities’, in Michael Davie, op. cit., pp. 33–55.
46 May Davie, ‘Genese d’une demeure patrimoniale: la maison aux
trois arcs de Beyrouth’, in Michael Davie, op. cit., pp. 57–96.