The impact of late antique churches

on the ecclesiastical architecture during the transitional period:

The case study of St. Irene in Constantinople*

Sabine Feist

Byzantine ecclesiastical architecture from the transitional period between Late

Antiquity and the Middle Byzantine period seems to be ambivalent in several ways: On
the one hand, churches from the transitional period were partially built in the manner
of their late antique predecessors; on the other hand, the new churches seem to have
already passed the threshold to the new Middle Byzantine ecclesiastical architecture,
which is smaller and characterized by its domes. This article focuses on the intersection
of these two different concepts and exemplifies general developments of ecclesiastical
architecture at that time by using St. Irene in Constantinople as a case study. For this
purpose, the Justinianic state of St. Irene will be summarized first. In the second part,
the church’s subsequent modification during the transitional period will be scrutinized.
By doing so it will finally be analysed which parts of the late antique predecessor were
considered worthy to be preserved and it will be asked whether these remnants were
maintained coincidentally or intentionally.

St. Irene in Late Antiquity

The first church of St. Irene was built by Constantine I and served as the cathedral of
the empire’s new capital until the erection of the nearby St. Sophia.1 Henceforth both
churches were closely connected to each other: they were subordinated to the patriarch
of Constantinople, they had the same clergy, and together they were called
.2 The close relationship found its expression in one common circumference
wall and a connecting corridor.3 Beyond this information from written sources, we
do not have any architectural remains from the first church of St. Irene since the
Constantinian building was destroyed during the Nika riot in 532.4 In the aftermath of
the devastating fire, Justinian decided to rebuild the church, from which large parts have
remained until today (fig. 1).5
*
I am grateful to Urs Peschlow (†), Franz Alto Bauer and Armin Bergmeier for advice and discussion.
1 According to Socrates Scholasticus’ Historia Ecclesiastica (Socr. hist. eccl. I, 16; II, 16) there might have
been a pre-Constantinian building for the Christian community in the same area from which nothing has
remained (see also Alexander 1971, 318–319; Peschlow 1977, 21). For St. Irene as cathedral, see Socr. hist.
eccl. I, 37; II, 6, 43; Janin 1969, 103; Mathews 1971, 79; Peschlow 1977, 21–22.
2 Socr. hist. eccl. II, 16; ClCiv. Novella III, Chapter 1. See also Janin 1969, 103; Mathews 1971, 78–79;
Peschlow 1977, 22. For the title see George 1913, 58–61, pl. 16 (nos. 1–4); Bardill 2004,
nos. 967, 1 (e and q), 968, 1 (a and d), 969, 1 (f).
3 Socr. hist. eccl. II, 16. See also Mathews 1971, 78; Müller-Wiener 1977, 112; Peschlow 1977, 153–155,
177–178, 209.
4 Proc. De aed. I, 1, 20–22; Proc. BP I, 24, 9; Theophan. Conf. Chronographia 181 (AM 6022, AD 529/30).
5 It is not clear from the sources whether the reconstruction of St. Irene began immediately after the
fire. Peschlow 1996, 136 suggests that the major priority was given to the restoration of St. Sophia. The
130 Sabine Feist

The Justinianic church of St. Irene was accessible through a corridor and an atrium
to the west.6 The atrium was surrounded by three two-storey porticoes and it was
directly connected to the church’s 1.20 m higher narthex (fig. 2).7 The upper floor of the
northern portico also provided access to the western gallery of the church.8 Particularly
noteworthy is the fact that from the beginning only the two outer passages of the
narthex could be closed by doors, while the three central passages between atrium and
narthex were initially open and freely accessible (fig. 3).9 The narthex’ interior had a
marble revetment, of which dowel holes still bear witness today.10 Also visible today are
remains of the mosaic decoration with geometric and vegetal patterns in the vaults as
well as in the arches (figs. 4–5).11
Although the appearance of the narthex in Justinianic times is widely known,
scholarship is struggling with the question of whether it was the only one or one of
original two narthices. Peter Grossmann and Marcell Restle, for example, assume that
today’s narthex was the exonarthex of the church (fig. 6), whereas Christine Strube and
Urs Peschlow interpret the narthex as the only one even in Justinian’s time (figs. 7–8).12
The architectural examination of the church’s interior, however, proves the impossibility
of a former inner narthex because there are no architectural remains on the interior
walls in question. Therefore, today’s narthex must have been St. Irene’s only narthex
even in Late Antiquity.13
From the only narthex of the Justinianic church one could directly enter the three-
aisled interior, of whose marble revetment few remains have survived until today
(fig. 9).14 For the disposition of the late antique interior various reconstructions were
proposed, whereby critical points have always been their western bays, which are almost
twice as wide as their eastern counterparts. According to Peter Grossmann and Marcell
Restle the western parts of these bays originally belonged to an inner narthex, but as we
have already seen this reconstruction is obsolete.15 The western bays of all three aisles
were instead separated by transverse arches into two equal parts and the transverse

Justinianic stage of St. Irene is sometimes subdivided into two different phases (Peschlow 1977, 207–208
(see also the review by P. Grossmann (Grossmann 1980, 372); Peschlow 1996; summarized in Feist 2019,
27 note 73)).
6 The corridor was necessary since it connected the different orientation of St. Irene and the street to the
west of the church (Berger 1997, 392). For a reconstruction of the corridor see Grossmann 1965, 204;
Peschlow 1977, 137–138.
7 For atrium and porticoes see George 1913, 13–16; Grossmann 1965; Strube 1973, 111, 114–115, note 470;
Peschlow 1977, 82–91, 133–139; Restle 1990, 449–450; Feist 2019, 27–28. For the narthex see George 1913,
17–18; Grossmann 1965, 188–189; Strube 1973, 106–117; Peschlow 1977, 46–49, 54–57, 66–72, 78–80,
111–119, 125–128; Feist 2019, 28.
8 Van Millingen 1912, 98; Strube 1973, 114–115; Peschlow 1977, 66–68, 113–114, 125.
9 Strube 1973, 108–110; Peschlow 1977, 134, 208–209; Grossmann 1978, 174–175.
10 Peschlow 1977, 46.
11 George 1913, 55–56; Tansuğ 1962, 35–36, 66–67; Peschlow 1977, 46, 48; Taddei 2011, 887–894.
12 Grossmann 1978, 175; Grossmann 1980, 373–374; Restle 1990, 450–451; Strube 1973, 110; Peschlow 1977,
120, 208.
13 For detailed analysis of the narthex situation, see Feist 2019, 28–31.
14 In addition, dowel holes testify the former marble revetment (Peschlow 1977, 25–26 (apse and bema), 27,
30 (nave), 31, 34, 36, 39–40, 42 (aisles)).
15 Grossmann 1978, 175; Grossmann 1980, 373–374; Restle 1990, 450–451.
 The case study of St. Irene in Constantinople 131

arch of the main nave, which was cut down in the subsequent modification during the
transitional period, supported a former barrel-vault in the Justinianic church (fig. 8).16
A second contentious issue concerning the ground floor of the late antique church is
the number of columns that separated the domed bay of the nave from the adjoining bays
in the north and south. The reconstruction by Urs Peschlow with only two columns
(4.80 m apart from each other) must be excluded due to structural objections (fig. 8)17;
Walter S. George and Peter Grossmann suggest six columns (and pillars) (fig. 10)18;
Marcell Restle’s suggestion, which proposes four or rather five columns by analogy
with the Justinianic church of St. John at Ephesus, is the most probable (fig. 6).19
In the east the nave was terminated by a slightly elevated barrel-vaulted bema-bay
and a semi-circular apse with three large windows and a synthronon.20 Unfortunately,
we do not have any information on the church’s original chancel barrier although some
late antique pieces were reused during the subsequent modification, which will be
discussed later.
Contrary to the ground floor, only minor parts of the upper level from the Justinianic
church have survived until today, which include the corner bays of the western gallery.21
Apart from a multitude of questions concerning the appearance of St. Irene’s late
antique gallery level, the most critical point for its reconstruction has always been the
separation between the nave’s domed bay and the adjoining gallery compartments in
the north and south. In most cases, the above-mentioned suggestions for the number
of columns at ground floor are mirrored on the gallery-level, which suggest rather
dark and separated galleries (figs. 6, 8, 10).22 However, contemporary churches built by
Justinian indicate a different architectural solution: the nearby St. Sophia is characterized
by its overwhelming light, which is primarily due to the multitude of windows in the
tympana-walls between nave and galleries.23 The same applies to St. John at Ephesus,
the Panagia Ekatontapiliani at Paros, and the church at Qasr Ibn Wardan, which also
have a multitude of windows and interiors flooded with light – especially in the eastern
and domed bays respectively.24 Worth mentioning in this context is the fact that the
number of columns on the ground floor is not identical with the upper floor at St.
Sophia and that we might think of divergent numbers of columns at St. Irene as well.25

16 Peschlow 1977, 27–28, 97, 120, 208. For a comparable barrel-vault with transverse arch, see the so-called
Domed Church (Church of Zeno) in Meriamlik (Hellenkemper – Hild – Hellenkemper-Salies 1990, 237–
238; Schmuck 1995, 533).
17 Peschlow 1977, 101–105, 119. For static objections see Grossmann 1980, 372–373.
18 George 1913, 75–76, fig. 37; Grossmann 1980, 372–373.
19 Restle 1990, 451–455. Restle also mentions original markings of the columns, which have not been found
in several inspections in 2014 and 2015. For St. John at Ephesus, see Thiel 2005, 29, 38–39; Karydis 2015,
esp. 113–122.
20 George 1913, 28–29; Peschlow 1977, 21, 24–25, 58–59, 119, 121–122.
21 Peschlow 1977, 66–68, 111–115, 117.
22 George 1913, 75–76, fig. 37; Grossmann 1980, 372–373; Peschlow 1977, 119–120, 208; Restle 1990, Abb.
41.
23 Proc. De aed. I, 1, 29–30. See also Mainstone 1988, 97–98, 124–125, fig. 119a; Grobe – Hauck – Noback
2010. For the alteration of the tympana-walls, see Mainstone 1969/1970; Peschlow 1998.
24 For Ephesus, see Thiel 2005, 28–29, 32, Taf. XXVI A. For Paros, see Jewell – Hasluck 1920, 29–52;
Orlandos 1965/1966, 9–17, 38–40, Abb. 28–30. For Qasr Ibn Wadan, see Butler 1920, 168–169.
25 For St. Sophia, see Mainstone 1988, 191–200. See also Peschlow 1977, 104.
132 Sabine Feist

Finally, it is necessary to stress the fact that the number of windows at St. Irene’s late
antique ground floor is everything but certain, since the parts of the exterior walls in
question were modified during the transitional period.26 Contrary to Urs Peschlow’s
reconstruction of windowless aisles in the church’s original state, the examination of
the exterior walls – the preserved parts from Late Antiquity do have windows – as well
as the contemporary examples from Ephesus, Paros, and Qasr Ibn Wardan suggest a
reconstruction with several windows in the north and south wall.27
Altogether, it can be summarized that St. Irene was already a church with a spacious
interior flooded with light in Late Antiquity from which primarily its ground floor has
stood the test of time.

St. Irene during the transitional period

The Justinianic church of St. Irene was partially rebuilt during the transitional period
(fig. 1). It is commonly supposed that the earthquake in 740 destroyed the church’s upper
parts and that Constantine V was responsible for the rebuilding.28 Despite scholars’
agreement concerning the devastating earthquake, this scenario raises questions: First, St.
Irene’s destruction is mentioned only in the chronicle of Nikephoros I of Constantinople,
which was written at least 40 years after the earthquake.29 However, contrary to frequent
assertions, the church’s destruction is not mentioned in the chronicle of Theophanes the
Confessor.30 Cyril Mango interprets the occasional divergences between both chronicles
as follows: “(…) and where our two texts differ among themselves preference can usually
be given to Theop(hanes)”.31 Secondly, it is quite certain that the nearby Hagia Sophia did
not suffer serious damages from the earthquake in 740.32 Thirdly, the examination of St.
Irene’s architecture itself contradicts the theory of a devastating destruction by earthquake.
Even Urs Peschlow, both an expert on the church in question and a proponent of the
earthquake-scenario, admits in his monograph: “Es ergibt sich also der bemerkenswerte
Tatbestand, daß sich die Trennungslinie zwischen dem Mauerwerk der älteren und der
jüngeren Bauperiode (…) horizontal fast durch den gesamten Bau zieht, ohne Anzeichen
von Beschädigungen, welche die Kirche erlitten haben muß und die den Neubau der
oberen Partien notwendig machten. Dieser Sachverhalt läßt sich nur so erklären, daß der
alte Oberbau nicht völlig bis zum Emporenboden zerstört war, sondern, da er in der alten
Form nicht repariert werden sollte, sorgfältig bis auf die Höhe abgetragen wurde, wobei
nur Partien im W(esten) stehenblieben“.33
26 Peschlow 1977, 36–38, 63–64, 73–74, 101 (note 178), 123.
27 Peschlow 1977, 119. Windows from the Justinianic phase are testified for the western bay of the south
aisle (Peschlow 1977, 40) and the eastern bay of the north aisle (Peschlow 1977, 61–62).
28 Van Millingen 1912, 89, 101–102; George 1913, 70; Dirimtekin 1962, 181–182; Mathews 1971, 79; Müller-
Wiener 1977, 113; Peschlow 1977, 22; Krautheimer 1986, 249; Ousterhout 2001, 8.
29 Nik. Chron. 63, 4–16.
30 Theophan. Conf. Chronographia 412 (AM 6232, AD 739/40) speaks of a general destruction of several
churches and monasteries. For Constantinople, he only mentions fallen statues and the partial destruction
of the city’s land-walls.
31 Mango – Scott 1990, 16.
32 For the construction works at St. Sophia, see Mainstone 1988, 89–101, fig. 105. See also Peschlow 1998,
who is of the divergent opinion that the tympana-walls of St. Sophia were rebuilt in the 8th century.
33 Peschlow 1977, 93. See ibid., 116 in a similar context.
 The case study of St. Irene in Constantinople 133

However, the fact the there was considerable reconstruction at the upper floor of St.
Irene during the transitional period cannot be denied, since the different building phases
become obvious by the usage of different building material (fig. 11).34 Nonetheless, it
does seem appropriate to question if the earthquake’s consequences were as devastating
as commonly supposed. Maybe minor damages form the earthquake were not simply
repaired, but provided the opportunity to modify St. Irene’s architecture. Nikephoros’
considerably later reference to the church’s destruction might have been a later attempt
to explain the past rebuilding of Constantinople’s former cathedral. Furthermore,
recently published dendrochronological investigations suggest the church’s rebuilding
only in the late 8th or early 9th century.35
But what did St. Irene look like after its rebuilding? Certainly, the church was still
accessible through the corridor and atrium on the western side (fig. 2).36 Despite the
continued use of the western main entrance, the atrium itself might have been at least
partly ruinous in the transitional period. This assumption is probable for two reasons:
First, the porticoes did not have an upper floor after the church’s alteration, and the
former access between the northern portico and the western gallery was no longer
used.37 Secondly, it is commonly supposed, that the ten Justinianic Ionic impost capitals
(figs. 12–13), which were used in the church’s interior after its rebuilding, originally
derived from the late antique porticoes’ ground floor.38 If this hypothesis is correct, the
porticoes’ ground floor must have been at least partly destroyed.
Despite the great likelihood for this scenario, the hypothesis that the late antique
impost capitals originate from the atrium raises some objections: Although there are
many examples for impost capitals in atria of Justinianic churches – those from the
nearby St. Sophia are prominent – there are none with monograms.39 However, impost
capitals with monograms were usually installed on the upper floors (again as in St.
Sophia and in Ss. Sergius and Bacchus) or ground floors (as in St. John at Ephesus and
the Panagia Ekatontapiliani at Paros) in contemporary churches.40 Beyond that, we have
already seen that it is not completely unlikely that the impost capitals derive originally
from the late antique church’s interior: the above-mentioned reconstruction with only
two columns between nave and each aisle is obsolete, and, instead, there must have
been at least four or rather five columns and capitals. Furthermore, we do not know if
the numbers of columns at ground and gallery level were identical in Justinianic times.

34 For the different materials (brick, greenstone and limestone at ground floor; layers of brick and limestone
in the upper parts), see George 1913, 57–64; Peschlow 1977, 223 and the following catalogue of stonework.
35 Kuniholm – Pearson – Wazny – Griggs 2015, 62.
36 On the basis of the Life of Luke the Stylite, A. Berger proves, that the street to the west of the church
was used until at least the 10th century (Berger 1997, 392, Abb. 4). Furthermore, the accessibility between
atrium and Sampson-Hospital to its south still existed in the transitional period (Peschlow 1977, 140–
144, 160–165). For a contrary argumentation, see Peschlow 1977, 133–134, who proposes the atrium’s
extensive demolition.
37 Peschlow 1977, 213.
38 George 1913, 69; Grossmann 1965, 199; Peschlow 1977, 133–134. For the capitals, see Kautzsch 1936, 176;
Peschlow 1977, 103.
39 I am grateful to F. Stroth for this comment. For St. Sophia, see Schneider 1941, 23; Mainstone 1988, 122.
40 For the capitals of St. Sophia, see Kautzsch 1936, 173–174; Mainstone 1988, 42. For Ss. Sergius and
Bacchus, see Kautzsch 1936, 172–173. For St. John at Ephesus, see Kautzsch 1936, 176–178; Thiel 2005,
55–59. For the Panagia Ekatontapiliani at Paros, see Kautzsch 1936, 180–181.
134 Sabine Feist

Therefore, the impost capitals’ origin from the interior of the Justinianic church cannot
be excluded any longer, even though their original localization in the late antique atrium
is conceivable as well.
After this excursus we can continue the discussion of St. Irene during the transitional
period: the atrium – still the main entrance to the church – was connected to the Justinianic
narthex that did not undergo major structural alterations (fig. 4).41 Even the Justinianic
mosaic decoration was preserved and was probably partially repaired (fig. 5).42 The most
conspicuous modification was the installation of doors that separated atrium and narthex
from one another (fig. 14); it was already mentioned that in Late Antiquity only the
two outer passages could be closed by doors whereas the three central passages between
atrium and narthex were initially open and freely accessible (fig. 3).43
From the narthex one could still reach the church’s nave and aisles, whose disposition
had barely changed compared to Late Antiquity and maintained its basilical ground
plan (fig. 15): The central bays of nave and aisles were separated by arcades with the
already mentioned impost capitals. In this context it is noteworthy that the capitals
have quite an unusual orientation in their second usage, since the monograms face
the outer walls, while the crosses can be seen from the central nave.44 The late antique
marble revetment was preserved (fig. 9), but was partially patched with painted marble
imitations.45 Furthermore, in the aisles and galleries there are some fragments of frescoes
dating back to the transitional period, with geometric and vegetal decorations – as in
the narthex – as well as medallions with crosses.46 Contrary to the late antique state, it is
clear that the rebuilt church had five windows in each of the middle bays.47
As in Late Antiquity, a slightly elevated bema-bay and a semi-circular apse with
synthronon terminated the church in the east (fig. 15). The synthronon’s benches were
rebuilt during the transitional period and the famous apse mosaic was also created at
the same time (fig. 16).48 The mosaic still shows a monumental cross against a golden
background. Two inscriptions accompany the depiction of the cross: The inscription
around the inner face of the apse’s semi-dome quotes from Psalm 64:4–5: “We shall
be filled with the good things of thy house; thy temple is holy; thou art wonderful in
righteousness. Harken to us, O God our saviour; the hope of all the ends of the earth,
and of them who are afar off on the sea” (

]).49 The inscription around the outer

face of the apse’s semi-dome quotes from Amos 9:6: “It is he that builds his ascent up

41 Peschlow 1977, 212–213.

42 George 1913, 55–56 and Taddei 2011, 894 mention such repairs, but do not date them.
43 Strube 1973, 108–110; Peschlow 1977, 134, 208–209; Grossmann 1978, 174–175.
44 For the alignment of monogram capitals, see Peschlow 1977, 102 note 181.
45 Peschlow 1977, 41.
46 Cormack 1977, 36; Peschlow 1977, 34, 37–38, 213; Taddei 2011, 887.
47 Peschlow 1977, 36–38, 63–64, 73–74, 101 (note 178), 123.
48 For the synthronon, see Mathews 1971, 85–86; Peschlow 1977, 94. For the mosaic, see George 1913,
47–55; Cormack 1977.
49 Inscription after Ousterhout 2001, 20. For a slightly different completion of the beginning of the
inscription, see George 1913, 50.
 The case study of St. Irene in Constantinople 135

to the sky, and establishes his promise on the earth; the Lord Almighty is his name”
(

).50
As with the Justinianic period we do not have any information about a chancel
barrier of the 8th/9th century church. Maybe the two pieces of a closure slab, which
lie under the columns of the north aisle today, were part of a chancel screen (figs. 17–
19).51 One of originally four monograms on the fragmentary pieces can still be read as
Constantine V.52 Another possible option for the original use of the closure slab is that
it could have been used to close the central arched opening to the nave on the western
gallery since both opening and slab are the same size.53
As already mentioned, major alterations were carried out on the church’s upper
floor during the transitional period. The modification of the nave’s western bay is
remarkable, which was no longer barrel-vaulted but received an elliptical vault during
the transitional period (fig. 11).54 The eastern bay of the church’s nave received a slightly
higher dome.55 A tympanon-wall, which was originally pierced with many windows,
separated nave and west gallery (fig. 20).56 The lower parts of the three arched openings
were closed by late antique slabs that may have originated from the Justinianic church.57
By contrast, the nave of St. Irene was not separated from the adjoining galleries in
the north and south after the modifications. Due to the barrel-vaults both side galleries
were instead incorporated into the church’s nave, which terminated directly in the
galleries’ exterior walls (fig. 15).58 The only separation might have been diaphanous
barriers.59 The fact that the side galleries were incorporated into the nave is proven
by the newly installed cornices that run along the galleries’ exterior walls.60 With the
multitude of windows in the western tympanon-wall and the side galleries’ exterior
walls, the spacious interior was flooded by light.61
Compared to the previous Justinianic phase, St. Irene’s rebuilding during the
transitional period might not have been as drastic as it is commonly assumed. Instead,
the open and light-flooded spatial concept already known from the late antique church
seems to have been merely intensified by the later modifications. Thus, after the
rebuilding, St. Irene maintained its late antique appearance with regard to architecture,
liturgical, and architectural sculptural furnishing.

50 Inscription after George 1913, 48.

51 Ulbert 1969/1970, 349–350.
52 Ulbert 1969/1970, 350.
53 Ulbert 1969/1970, 350.
54 George 1913, 41–43; Peschlow 1977, 27–30, 81–82.
55 George 1913, 43–45; Peschlow 1977, 26–27, 80–81.
56 Peschlow 1977, 29–30, 115–119.
57 For the slabs’ dating, see Delvoye 1966, 906, 908. For comparisons, see e. g. Guidobaldi – Barsanti 2004,
100–107.
58 Peschlow 1977, 26, 29, 51–54.
59 Peschlow 1977, 51–53, 213.
60 Peschlow 1977, 26, 53; Restle 1990, 473–475.
61 See also Feist 2019, 43.
136 Sabine Feist

Coincidence or intention?

The examination of St. Irene in its Justinianic state and its subsequent rebuilding
has shown that the modifications did not represent a radical change in the church’s
architecture. The characteristically spacious and light-filled interior of late antique
basilicas was maintained. Nothing is reminiscent of the rather small and dark ecclesiastical
architecture that is commonly associated with churches from the transitional period.
How can the results of the building analysis, which do not fit into the standard
conceptions of the period also known as the “Dark Ages”, be explained? And is the
case study of St. Irene a unique example? To address the latter question first: St. Irene
is one of some late antique churches rebuilt during the transitional period. Among
the most famous and best-preserved examples are the Cumanın Camii in Antalya,
the Lower-City-Church in Amorium, St. Mary in Ephesus, St. Nikolaos in Myra, the
Hagia Sophia in Thessaloniki and the church of the same patrocinium in Vize.62 Despite
this seemingly heterogenous group of churches – at least insofar as they are spread
over the entire Byzantine empire and their dating varies considerably – it is possible
to observe recurring characteristics for all examples. These include the maintenance
of the ancient or late antique topographical and infrastructural conditions in which
the new domed churches were embedded.63 Due to the unaltered topographical and
infrastructural conditions, the main access from the west was retained in all churches
even after the structural alterations. The atria were of particular importance, which, as
in Late Antiquity, functioned as a kind of separation between the sacred space on the
one hand and the profane outside world on the other.64 During the transitional period,
the atria, which, contrary to what is sometimes assumed65, remained an integral part of
the church architecture of this period, were given an additional function: Henceforth,
they no longer only provided a transition between outside and inside, between profane
and sacral, but also between old and new architecture. This observation even applies to
buildings where the state of the atrium during the transitional period cannot be exactly
reconstructed. Even in the cases, such as the above-discussed St. Irene, in which the
atrium was probably at least partially destroyed, it continued to function as this multi-
layered connecting link.66
Although there is much to suggest that using the old access paths in the immediate
vicinity of the new domed churches one was often in the midst of at least partially
destroyed predecessor buildings, it could be argued that the new domes must have
been an innovation within this ruinous scenery. This assumption is justified, but it only
applied to the sight of the churches from a certain distance. The dome of St. Irene, for
example, was not visible from its atrium. Instead, it could only be seen from the western
street and from a distance of about 50 metres (fig. 11). Assuming that the corridor in the

62 This group of building is examined in a comparative way by Feist 2019.

63 Feist 2019, 150–151, 200.
64 For the function of atria, see Lorenz 2000/2001, 129–130; de Blaauw 2008, 354. For atria during the
transitional period, see Feist 2019, 153–156, 200–201.
65 Mathews 1971, 178–178; Ousterhout 1999, 14; Theis 2005, 870; de Blaauw 2008, 356–358; Altripp 2013,
118.
66 For the atria and/or western parts of the churches in Antalya, Amorium, Ephesus, Myra, Thessaloniki,
and Vize, see Feist 2019, 153–156, 200–202.
 The case study of St. Irene in Constantinople 137

west of the atrium was still two storeys high during the transitional period, the distance
needed to see the dome would have been even greater.67
Similar observations as for the exterior of the churches can also be made for their
narthices. These also retained their late antique appearance and were barely changed by
the rebuilding measures during the transitional period.68 In the church of St. Irene the
once open passages between atrium and narthex were closed by doors and the Justinianic
mosaic decoration was presumably repaired (figs. 5, 14). But even in those cases in which
the narthices were changed more drastically during the transitional period, single pieces
of the older architectural sculptural served as reminders of the previous buildings. An
example of this is St. Mary in Ephesus. In addition to late antique door frames and
lintels used in both the exo- and esonarthex, spolia capitals from the 3rd or 4th were
also recycled for the newly erected double columns and corner pillars.69 Thus, in the
narthices of the churches, too, the predecessor buildings played an important role, and
the dualism between outside and inside, between profane and sacral, between old and
new, built up on the outside, was not dispersed, but instead further increased. This is
also supported by the fact that the domes were not yet completely visible from the
narthices. In the above discussed case of St. Irene, for example, only half the dome could
be seen (fig. 11).70
The dualism between outside and inside, between profane and sacral, between old
and new was only dispersed after entering the interior of the churches. After passing
through the older predecessor buildings in the exterior areas and the narthices, the new
domed architecture could finally be fully realized there. Unfortunately, only the Hagia
Sophia in Thessaloniki testifies to the program of the cupolas, whereby the Ascension
of Christ shown there was only created in the last quarter of the 9th century and thus
about 100 years after the construction of the church.71
In contrast to the singular example of a dome mosaic, we have information about
the program of three apses. In addition to St. Irene, these are the Hagia Sophia in
Thessaloniki and the Church of the Dormition at Nicaea. During the transitional
period, all three examples depicted a monumental cross in the apse (fig. 16).72
Despite the new domed architecture and the new pictorial program, which broke
with late antique traditions, there were also reminders of the older predecessor buildings
in the interior of the churches. This mostly happened in the form of architectural and
liturgical sculpture, as it was discussed for the church of St. Irene. There, the Ionic

67 Feist 2019, 151. For the churches in Antalya, Amorium, Ephesus, Myra, Thessaloniki and Vize, where the
domes could also be seen only from a certain distance, see ibid., 151–153.
68 Feist 2019, 161–163, 203.
69 For the narthices of St. Mary, see Keil – Knoll – Reisch 1932, 51, 58; Feist 2019, 84–85. For the door
frames and lintels, see Russo 2010, 86–89; Degasperi 2013, 37–38, 47, Kat. 165; Peschlow 2013, 294. For
the capitals, see Bingöl 1980, 38–39.
70 Feist 2019, 167; ibid., 166–168 with references to the examples from Antalya, Amorium, Ephesus, Myra,
Thessaloniki and Vize.
71 Grabar 1957, 268, 282–284; Spieser 1973, 160–161; Feist 2019, 124.
72 For Thessaloniki, see Cormack 1980/1981, 116–119; Feist 2019, 125. For Nicaea see Underwood 1959,
236–240.
138 Sabine Feist

impost capitals of the arcades between the central bays of the nave and aisles probably
derived from the Justinianic church (figs. 12–13).73
The excessive use of spolia, not only during the transitional, but for all periods is
frequently explained by scholarship by pragmatic reasons, such as the availability of
the material as well as incapacity of craftmanship and the not yet standardized new
building type.74 Nevertheless, for some years there have been a growing number of new
approaches which can be fruitful for the analysis of the Byzantine “retrofit” church
architecture from the transitional period as well.75 In these works, too, the afore-
mentioned explanatory models are not neglected76, and well-known keywords such as
ornamanta, ornatus and varietas still have their role to play.77 At the same time, however,
other motives for the use of spolia are being considered. These include, for example,
the significance of the past for the definition of the present78, and the observation that
only the preservation of the old makes the contrast between tradition and innovation
possible.79
And indeed, these motives can also be applied to the ecclesiastical architecture from
the transitional period. In this context, however, it should first be explicitly noted that
pragmatic reasons for the reuse of older material should by no means be categorically
excluded. In such examples where, for instance, the architectural and liturgical sculpture
was kept unchanged, like the above-mentioned maintenance of the 6th century synthrona
in St. Irene, the mere availability of the material may have been decisive for their reuse.80
In other cases, however, during the course of the rebuilding measures, new uses for
older relics were found. This was for example observed for the impost capitals of St.
Irene, which from then on were used on both sides of the nave’s eastern domed bay.
The pragmatic approach does not offer a satisfying answer for the inclusion of
ruinous parts either. The archaeological evidence of St. Irene’s atrium suggests that it
was at least partially destroyed at the time of the rebuilding. Nevertheless, the main
access side to the church was still to its west and one had to pass through the older and in

73 For the reuse of architectural and liturgical sculpture in the churches in Antalya, Amorium, Ephesus,
Myra, Thessaloniki and Vize, see Feist 2019, 182–185, 206.
74 From the rich literature on the usage of spolia Esch 1969; Deichmann 1975; Brenk 1987; Brandenburg
1996 are still elementary. For the transitional period it is also claimed that the major marble quarries were
out of use at that time and that therefore no new architectural and liturgical sculpture could have been
produced (Sodini 2002).
75 E.g. Martini 2000; Meier – Wohlleben 2000; Fabricius Hansen 2003; Boschung – Wittekind 2008;
Schattner – Valdés Fernandesz 2009; Hassler – Nerdinger 2010; Markschies – Wolf 2010; Stein-
Hölkeskamp – Hölkeskamp 2006/2010; Behrwald – Witschel 2012. For the term „retrofit“, see Buchwald
1999.
76 E.g. von Hesberg 2008, 138.
77 For ornamanta, ornatus and varietas see Deichmann 1975, 99–100; Brenk 1987.
78 Fabricius Hansen 2003, 261; Schattner 2009, 9; Markschies – Wolf 2010, 13; Nerdinger 2010, 18–19.
79 Boehm 2000, 83; Meier 2000, 89–90.
80 The new construction of the synthrona of the Hagios Nikolaos in Myra shows, however, that this
liturgical element, which is actually regarded as paradigmatic for late antique ecclesiastical architecture,
was also newly built during the transitional period (Peschlow 1975, 330–332; Feist 2019, 100, 107, 184,
206). An example for the unaltered reuse of architectural sculpture is the Cumanın Camii in Antalya.
Remarkably, however, the (late) antique architectural sculpture in this case had no static function after the
rebuilding, but probably served only as an ornament (Feist 2019, 59–60, 182, 206–208).
 The case study of St. Irene in Constantinople 139

part ruined predecessor structures before one could reach the new domed architecture.81
This observation fits well together with the above-mentioned explanatory models from
the recent research on spolia, which increasingly value the significance of the past for
the definition of the present and the assumption that only the preservation of the old
makes the contrast between tradition and innovation possible.
The maintenance and incorporation of the always identical elements of the
predecessor churches during the transitional period, namely the atria, the narthices, and
the architectural and liturgical sculpture, indicate that this was less a coincidence than
an intentional decision. Perhaps a look at developments in Middle and Late Byzantine
times may offer a further explanation for this phenomenon: in these periods it was
increasingly common that older parts and pieces of predecessor buildings were not only
a symbol of a long sacral tradition of the particular place, but were also considered as
objects of an inherent holiness.82 The Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem is one
of the most prominent and radical examples of this phenomenon. There the church
attested an apparently constantly growing holiness imminent to the building over the
course of centuries. This led to the situation in the 11th and 12th centuries that even
ruinous or thoroughly heterogenous older material, such as columns and capitals, was
not removed from the church, but instead assembled into new architectural ensembles
such as the so-called Arches of the Virgin.83 To a much lesser extent, the same can
be observed for Hagia Sophia in Thessaloniki. There a late antique chancel slab was
subsequently plastered and decorated with the representation of a standing saint. The
reuse of the slab was therefore by no means determined by its appearance, but by “the
spiritual significance of the slab”.84 Maybe the idea that older and even ruinous material
could not only demonstrate the sacral tradition, but also possess an inherent holiness,
playing a role in the extensive reuse of parts and pieces of the predecessor churches
already in the transitional period.

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G. C. Hansen, Sokrates. Kirchengeschichte (Berlin 1995).

81 Even more drastic for the inclusion of older, possibly partly ruinous parts is the Hagia Sophia in
Thessaloniki. There the late antique narthex, which in its size surpassed the proportions of the new,
much smaller church, was retained. Old and new architecture were connected in just two sections, but
everywhere else there was a ca. 70cm wide gap. Nevertheless, the desire to maintain the old narthex must
have been so strong that great effort was accepted, although a deconstruction would certainly have been
the easier option (Theoharidou 1988, 64–68; Feist 2019, 116–117, 163, 203).
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83 Ousterhout 2003, 13.
84 Geymonat 2012, 54–57, fig. 2.8. (quotation: p. 54).
140 Sabine Feist

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