In Constructing Melchior Lorichs's Panorama of Constantinople, Nigel Westbrook, Kenneth Rainsbury Dark, and Rene Van Meeuwen propose that Melchior Lorichs's 1559 Panorama of Constantinople was created by using a viewing grid. The panorama is thus a reliable graphic source for the lost or since-altered Ottoman and Byzantine buildings of the city. The panorama appears to lie outside the conventional symbolic mode of topographical depiction common for its period and constitutes a rare "scientific" record of an encounter of a perspicacious observer with a vast subject. The drawing combines elements of allegory with extensive empirical observation. Several unknown structures, shown on the drawing, have been located in relation to the present-day topography of Istanbul, as a test-case for further research.
Melchior Lorichs's Panorama of Constantinople of 1559, recently published as an excellent facsimile with an introduction by Cyril Mango and accompanying commentary by Mango and Stééphane Yerasimos, is one of the most significant recordings of the Byzantine and Ottoman capital, and is perhaps the earliest attempt to portray the city accurately (Figure 1).1 It depicts, in considerable detail, both known and unknown structures, including many significant buildings, both Byzantine and Ottoman, which later disappeared or were substantially modified (Figures 2, 3). It will be argued that the panorama, because of the apparent objectivity and relative veracity of its composition, may be used to determine the actual location of such buildings, thus assisting archaeological and architectural research into the topography of the Byzantine and early Ottoman city.
Although it is usual to associate panoramic representation with the nineteenth-century fascination with the emerging industrialized metropolis, the genre has a much longer history.2 For example, Alberti's method for surveying a city utilized perspective to focus on the significant urban elements and monuments——the places of worship, defining walls, and river——working outward from the area defined as the most hierarchically central. Alberti introduced surveying into the construction of the modern panorama and calculated the relationship between horizon and topography, utilizing an instrument of his own devising, called the "horizon and radius."3 This method of description was far from purely objective, as Terry Comito has noted, and had the potential to transform the perception of reality for its viewer: "Once the only limit is the horizon, one is forced to admit . . . that any 'centre' is merely subjective. Place itself (locus) becomes merely location (locatio), the mind's determination for its own ends."4
Melchior Lorichs's Panorama of Constantinople is such a perspectival representation dating to the Renaissance period, and may provide evidence that can be used to reconstruct the city that Lorichs saw, with the surviving traces of its Byzantine predecessor that were visible in the sixteenth century. If this should be so, the panorama would be a key graphic source for both the early Ottoman and Byzantine capitals. Indeed it has previously been used in an attempt to reconstruct the architectural form of the first mosque erected by Mehmet II, the Ottoman conqueror of the city.5 However, in order for it to be used as evidence, it must be determined whether the drawing is an attempt to represent things precisely as they were, or whether Lorichs adopted conventions that lessen the evidential value of the representation: Can the drawing be described as predominantly an empirical or an allegorical composition?6 If it is both, can the boundaries between accurate representation and symbolic meaning be defined?
The first component of this inquiry, a prelude to addressing its value as a historical source, is to determine how Lorichs's panorama was constructed. There are grounds for arguing that it represents the reality of the view it purports to show. To test this, it is necessary to place Lorichs's panorama in the context of earlier and contemporary representations of Constantinople; to consider the circumstances and techniques of its production, in particular the drawing equipment and Lorichs's viewpoints and visual priorities; and, finally, to discuss the viewing positions used to produce the panorama, in order to compare his depiction with the existing topography of the city center.
Because the major cultural monuments of Istanbul were the focal points for mapping and representation, they were emphasized by topographers, and the interstitial urban fabric was either left out, or in the case of the Lorichs panorama, was recorded in a relatively direct, non-symbolic manner. Thus, the focus of the comparison of the actual and depicted cityscape will be the commonplace infrastructure depicted in the vicinity of the major monuments. This should minimize distortions resulting from the prejudices of the artist or cartographer.
In 1555 the artist Melchior Lorichs (b. 1526/7), a young nobleman from Flensburg in the Duchy of Schleswig-Holstein——then ruled by the Danish monarchy——was employed by the ambassador of the Holy Roman Emperor, if not directly by the emperor himself, to accompany the imperial ambassador to Istanbul as a member of his entourage. It is not known whether he went of his own free will or if he was constrained to do so "to renew his coat of arms and noble status," after his failure to honor a contract he had made with the king of Denmark, a relative of the emperor.7 In 1559, he was permitted by the Ottoman Sultan Süüleyman II (the Magnificent) to prepare a panoramic drawing of his capital, as viewed from locations along the northern shore of the Golden Horn. This drawing recorded in unprecedented detail both the ancient (that is, Byzantine) and modern, early Ottoman structures of the city, surpassing in its verisimilitude earlier bird's-eye depictions such as the so-called Vavassore view of the city (ca. 1535),8 and even later panoramic depictions, prior to the introduction of the photographic panorama (Figure 4). It is, furthermore, unknown whether the drawing was commissioned by the ambassador or emperor, or instigated by Lorichs himself, with permission from the Ottoman authorities. Erik Fischer, on the basis of his analysis of the paper used for Lorichs's drawings, dates the panorama to 1561, after Lorichs returned to northern Europe.9
The Lorichs panorama is remarkable both for its rarity, as the earliest apparently reliable "prospective" document of the urban form of Istanbul, and as one of the earliest perspectivally based urban panoramas, apparently produced through the assembly of field drawings, and corresponding to the view from ground level, or from elevated structures, in contrast to the earlier convention of the bird's-eye view. The panorama is 11.45 meters long and 45 centimeters high, and comprises twenty one sheets joined together to show the entire urban vista of the peninsula of Istanbul, as viewed from locations along the northern shore of the Golden Horn.10 The composite drawing forms a continuous image, stretching from ÜÜskudar and Seraglio Point (Saray Burnu) on the extreme left, to the land walls and the landscape beyond to Eyüüp, to the right. It is drawn with black and brown ink on paper, with coloring added in water-based pigment. All over the drawing, but concentrated in the central and western sections that depict to the old urban core, are a number of Danish inscriptions, both simple titles of building features and discursive topographical notes. Some inscriptions refer to features that are not shown in the drawing because they are hidden by the brow of the peninsula, but are nonetheless considered to be of topographical importance. These hidden features may have been examined by Lorichs, or perhaps he derived his knowledge of them from earlier representations such as that of Vavassore.
The sophisticated nature of the drawing raises questions about the experience and training of the artist. Alexandrine St. Clair has noted, on the basis both of Lorichs's letters, autobiographical account, and encomia written during his lifetime, that the artist started his career apprenticed to a goldsmith in Lüübeck, a common training for artists who specialized in engraving and woodcuts, after which he obtained work as an artist with aristocratic patrons at the court of the Holy Roman Empire at the Diet of Augsburg and in Denmark. He also worked for a year in Nuremberg.11 He is known to have traveled to the Netherlands and Italy (Venice, Bologna, Florence and Rome; a drawing after antique sculptures in Rome is dated 1551).12 A survey of the collections of his drawings and engravings in the Statens Museum for Kunst in Copenhagen, the Flensburg Museum in Schleswig-Holstein, and those formerly in the Evelyn collection at Stonor Park, England, suggests they are the product of a lively and unorthodox mind, actively engaged in the cultural ferment of his age.13 From the period of his career before his Istanbul sojourn are posthumous portraits of Albrecht Düürer and Martin Luther, an allegorical depiction of the pope as Antichrist, several studies after works by Düürer and Michelangelo, and other fine portrait engravings. That an artist thought to have been suborned by the Holy Roman Emperor's embassy to Constantinople was a sympathizer of radical protestantism, as reflected in the pope allegory and a portrait of Luther, might appear surprising but has not been commented upon by historians. The connection to Düürer, deemphasized by Adolf Rosenberg,14 is surely evidenced by pre-Istanbul engravings such as his Christ and Samaritan of 1550,15 and St. Jerome of 1546,16 the latter engraving possessing some of the perspectival intensity of Düürer's great engravings, notably Knight, Death and the Devil, Melancholia, or most specifically, St. Jerome in His Study. More conclusively, the portrait of Düürer of 1550 evidences the influence of the master's style, as does the symmetrical monogram that Lorichs adopted. An identification with the technique and ethos of Düürer's oeuvre has further implications, as the great German artist was one of the first to treat landscape as the subject, rather than the background.17
Lorichs's time in Istanbul is described in his letters and in his book Soldan Soleyman (1574). Barnaby Rogerson has recently suggested that during his four year stay there, he was engaged in a form of rivalry with the imperial ambassador, Oghier de Busbecq.18 Indeed, neither man mentions the other in his writings. However, a fine portrait in profile that Lorichs made of Busbecq in 1557 suggests at least a formal relationship.19 Their similar background also suggests that they had many interests in common, not least an enthusiasm for antiquities. If Busbecq harbored resentment, it may have stemmed from his status as an enforced recluse for much of the period when the Grand Vizier Rüüstem Pasha (d. 1561) was in power. Lorichs, who departed the city in 1559, in contrast traveled widely, and spent his time in Istanbul making many drawings that recorded Ottoman costumes, customs, and monuments——an elephant and its driver, a funeral procession, women of a harem, and others depicting building structures. It is not known whether he was commissioned by the sultan to make his portrait, but there are several engravings of the Sultan based, presumably, on drawings he made in Istanbul, and which Lorichs included in his book of views of the city. He is also recorded as having painted twelve portraits of the Sultan, later destroyed by fire, at the royal palaces of Christiansborg and Frederiksborg. These were presumably commissioned by the Danish king, and would probably have been based upon his sketches and studies made in Istanbul.20 Other drawings contain important architectural and art-historical information. A view across rooftops toward the mosque of Atik Ali Pasha, apparently drawn from the Elççıı han, conveys a remarkable sense of realism and a firm grasp of the principles of perspective, convincingly describing the form of the mosque (Figure 5).21 Monuments studied in detail include the study of a bas-relief on the base of the Obelisk of Thutmoses III, erected in the Hippodrome by Theodosius II in the fifth century, a detail of carving on the historiated column of Arcadius (a later fire destroyed all but the column's base, left heavily damaged, but the carving is known from other representations), and the bas-relief carving on the base of a monumental column (Figure 6). As the earliest careful representations, and given their level of detail and evidence of close observation, these drawings constitute the most accurate evidence for the original appearance of these structures and confirm Lorichs's profound antiquarian interests.
If his pre-Istanbul career may be characterized by his identification with the monumental legacy of the German artist Albrecht Düürer, then Lorichs's work after his return from Istanbul suggests wider-ranging abilities and interests in art, literature, architecture, and technology. In 1568 he completed the celebrated Elbkarte, a 12-meter-long map made for the senate of the city of Hamburg, and which proclaimed that city's rights to the mouth of the river. For it, Lorichs adopted the usual conventions of bird's-eye perspective; this map shared nothing of the optical verisimilitude of the Istanbul panorama. Instead, it portrayed topographical information in an effective, if typical, manner. In the same year he published a poem, "Ein liedt vom Tüürcken vnd Antichrist" (A poem of the Turks and Antichrist) based upon his experiences in the Ottoman Empire, which discussed the inevitable friction between East and West. This was followed by Soldan Soleyman in 1574, a book that combined an autobiographical account with an overview of the politics and military position of the Ottomon Empire.22 His best-known and most influential work was a collection of woodcuts depicting Ottoman costumes, people, structures, and objects. Intended by Lorichs to be published together with his commentary, it was posthumously published (1619) as Wolgerissene und Geschnittenes Figuren zu Roßß und Fußß (Well-engraved and cut figures on horse and foot).23 It became the single most important sourcebook of visual information on Ottoman culture in the seventeenth century. This established Lorichs's significance as the first notable "scientific" chronicler of that alien society.24 Among the plates are several that reflect his close study of architectural monuments in Istanbul. One, an image of the Süüleymaniye mosque complex, is convincing in its accuracy, furthermore portraying elements that have since disappeared (Figure 7). It is important to note that where structures or monuments survive or are known from representations usually considered reliable, Lorichs's depictions of these is verifiably accurate.
Representing the City
Lorichs's panorama of Istanbul was by no means the first attempt by Western artists to depict the Ottoman capital, nor the first to take account of its Byzantine heritage. Ian Manners has described the way successive reproductions of Christoforo Buondelmonte's Liber Insularum Archipelagi, dating to the early fifteenth century, reflect the aspirations of their patrons. For example, copies completed after the Ottoman capture of Constantinople in 1453 depict the great church, Hagia Sophia, as much larger than the other buildings in the city, exaggerating the Christian monuments in relation to the Ottoman palaces and mosques, and emphasizing the Christian aspects of the city.25 A later representation, the bird's-eye view of Constantinople included by Hartman Schedel in his Liber Chronicarum, published in Nuremberg in 1493, shows what must be the column and statue of Justinian, adjacent to Hagia Sophia, and other unidentified ruins, but does not show evidence of any mosques, not even the monumental mosque of Mehmet II, which was constructed by that date.26 Crosses and the imperial eagle are shown above a conventionalized view of the palace sea-gate——presumably that of the Boukoleon palace overlooking the Sea of Marmara. It is as if the conquest of 1453 had never happened.27
Walter Denny has described another bird's-eye representation of Istanbul, the Mecmu-ıı Menazil of Nasuh as-Silahi al-Matrakççıı of 1537.28 This was more descriptive than the Buondelmonte and Schedel representations, but also deployed more symbolic representations of buildings and did not attempt what would today be understood as an accurate account of urban topography, or even of the relationship of elements to each other. Rather, it rendered what Ian Manners has called the "truthfulness" of the place, by which the various aspects of the locale were combined in a visual unity.29 It is therefore significant that in Lorichs's great drawing, the new Ottoman buildings were given equal prominence to the Byzantine churches, even Hagia Sophia, and the panorama contains numerous legends referring to Süüleyman and other members of his court. Both differences could be explained by the role of the Ottoman sultan as patron of the work.30 There is, however, no evidence to suggest that this was the case, although Lorichs, as previously noted, made several representations of Süüleyman for his book Soldan Soleyman.31
Constantinople was not the only city to be depicted in such detail in the sixteenth century. For example, in 1500, Jacopo de' Barbari created a remarkable bird's-eye view of Venice at the peak of its prosperity. This print is of great historical value, providing the earliest detailed documentation of the extent and layout of the city, but confidence cannot be placed in its veracity as an urban plan.32 Manners notes that it is "not possible to distinguish between the artist and the mapmaker, they were one and the same person."33 Indeed, despite the great detail of the drawing, it cannot be relied on as an objective image, in the modern sense, of Venice. It is an idealized representation, reflecting aspiration as well as reality——the islands of the city are moved around to compose an ideal image. Although there was a new concern in the Renaissance for the representation of things as they were, improvement was permitted. Nonetheless, like Lorichs's panorama, the drawing provides much evidence for the city at the time.
A far more idealized urban representation was made by Georg Braun and Franz Hogenberg, in their monumental Civitates Orbis Terrarum, produced between 1572 and 1617, which contains 546 bird's-eye views, prospects, and maps of cities of the known world. Their engraving of Istanbul, made in 1572, is such an idealized bird's-eye view, and is almost certainly based, given its similarity, upon the earlier Vavassore view. The images of Braun and Hogenberg were, in turn, to be reproduced extensively into the eighteenth century. In contrast to such idealized views, perspectival representations of cities shown in profile from a ground-level, as in Lorichs's panorama, or from a slightly raised viewpoint, had been used earlier by Düürer in his View of the City of Nuremberg from the West (1496––97), by Hans Lautensack, in his view of the same city (1552), and earlier, by Erhard Reuwich, in the urban views he produced for the pilgrimage book Peregrinatio in Terram Sanctum of 1486 by Bernhard von Breydenbach, which was perhaps the first illustrated travel book of reasonable topographical reliability.34 Mango has described such views as showing "what the human eye actually saw,"35 in contrast to the elaborate and artificial visual construction of the bird's-eye view, which showed the landscape as viewed from an altitude not experienced before passenger balloons. Lorichs followed these artists in depicting an urban landscape that corresponded with the city that he witnessed.
Prior to this period, most topographers represented cities through symbols, including features such as the city wall, cathedral, harbors, and other notable monuments to allegorize the city. A clear example of this is the idealized representation of Siena in the Allegory of Good and Bad Government by the Lorenzetti brothers of 1338––40, in which the walls and city gate stand for the city.36 Some maps are even more explicitly symbolic, for example a twelfth-century portrayal of Jerusalem that depicts the city as a circular plan overlaid by a cross in the Koninklijke Bibliotheek, The Hague. Although the main pilgrimage sites are shown, and thus the drawing can serve in part as a guide for the pilgrim, the image also imparts a message: in the foreground a Christian knight slays a Saracen foe. The entire cityscape is symbolic and not representational in the modern sense.37 Such maps followed a long tradition of symbolic cartography: In the early medieval period, maps were spatial metaphors that allowed people to locate themselves in relation to the world around them, with little information about distance or areas. Symbolism, especially religious symbolism with its theological focus on things of the spirit, took precedence over scientific theory and utility.38
Such overt symbolism and lack of realism may have been obsolete by Lorichs's time but it establishes the background against which he worked, at a time when, as in the work of Düürer and Lautensack, natural observation, supported by the technical knowledge of perspectival geometry, was interwoven with symbolic intent.
Drawing the Panorama
Lorichs's work therefore continued a long Northern European tradition of city representations, but he adopted new methods. Like other North German followers of Düürer, he utilized the discoveries in perspectival construction that the great German artist had brought from Italy. Lorichs's drawings demonstrate his mastery of such techniques, and his panorama goes beyond the conventionalized representations characteristic of the views of Schedel or Braun and Hogenberg. Like Düürer's landscapes drawn from life, but also his own view across Istanbul rooftops, Lorichs's panorama appears to have been made to imitate the image of the city as seen by the eye, rather than to construct a synthetic, unitary, and symbolic image. How did he achieve the accurate depiction of buildings and monuments, and what tools were deployed to this end?
In the period of Lorichs's drawing, the camera obscura came into use. This technology revolutionized the relation between the knower and the known. However, there is no evidence of that Lorichs employed this method, and the portable camera obscura, a much smaller device, appears to have been invented only later. Lacking a camera obscura, Lorichs probably relied on some form of viewing grid, enabling him to transfer the appearance and relative proportion of landscape features onto a two-dimensional surface. Significantly, this technique is depicted in Düürer's woodcut of an artist and his model, published in the second edition of his Art of Measurement in 1538, of which Lorichs, given his appreciation of Düürer, and his evident command of perspective, should have been aware (Figure 8).39
Such a grid of horizontal and vertical lines would have enabled Lorichs to transpose the framed view onto another grid on the pictorial surface. Whereas a camera obscura creates an optical image, the drawing grid achieves verisimilitude by framing the scene within its defining lines. Using this device, the draftsman framed and selectively bracketed off a portion of the landscape or scene, imposing perspectival control upon it. The grid transformed the curvature of the scene into a flat surface, so it would have been necessary for Lorichs to adjust the overlapping portions of the panorama as he incrementally moved the frame and shifted viewing points to take in all parts of the city. Lorichs's drawing reflects a shift from a unified mode of representing the city to one that is more relative, dependent upon the viewing and framing subject, whose position is inferred by the perspectival construction. The creation of the panorama would have required a transcription of the field drawings onto final sheets, omitting the grid lines. The final drawings would thus retain the optical specificity of the gridded perspectival drawing.
However, Lorichs's final drawing was, in turn, conditioned and sanctioned by the norms of the draftsman's society.40 He introduces the rhetorical device of his self-portrait; Lorichs stands with an unfurled scroll of the panorama, which is supported by a representative figure of "the Turk." This ensemble, which surely cannot have corresponded with reality, allegorizes the encounter between East and West, which is further emblematized by the depiction of ships of the Ottoman sultan and Western and Persian ambassadors.
Content and Meaning
The panorama, while presenting a convincing representation of the city that is clearly based on direct observation, thus possesses elements that allegorize the position of the Ottoman empire as the rival to the Holy Roman Empire. Lorichs, coming from the maritime city of Flensburg, also uses the depiction of various vessels, both Eastern and Western, to illustrate the wealth and bustling activity of the city. Cyril Mango, and earlier Karl Wulzinger and Eugen Oberhummer, have described in detail the buildings depicted. It will be the intention here to discuss some of the structures and other details that have historical significance, with emphasis on those that have not been adequately described.41
Sheets I to V: To the extreme left of the panorama, beyond the walls of Galata, the settlement on the northern shore of the Golden Horn, Lorichs has painstakingly delineated a group of exotic-looking vessels with lateen sails. At their center is the elaborate ceremonial barge of Sultan Süüleyman II (Figure 9). Nearby there are several other vessels: the barge of Lorichs's employer, Ogier Ghiselin de Busbecq (1522––92) (Figure 10), the ambassador of the Holy Roman Emperor in Vienna, and the vessels of four other embassies, including that of the Persian ambassador, Ismail, a portrait of whom was illustrated in Lorichs's Soldan Soleyman, and whom he may have met. There are also other large vessels that look like floating buildings, and which may have been ferries, floating mills, or customs stations (see Figures 1 II––III and 10).42 Among the great ships, a host of small craft can be discerned. It is possible that we are being shown a significant incident in Lorichs's stay in Constantinople. The scene may also echo the pictorial motif of the Christian and Ottoman ships that populate the waterways in Vavassore's view, but here they are portrayed with much greater specificity. Perhaps it depicts an official outing by the sultan to one of his palaces outside the city, either on the Asian side of the Bosporus or on the Princes' Islands. However, such a reception is unrecorded in Busbecq's jaundiced account of his embassy.43 Such formalized hospitality, both to the representatives of the Holy Roman Empire and the Persian Empire, may not have accorded with the anti-Ottoman narrative evident in the personal account of the Imperial ambassador. This event takes place alongside the everyday plying of maritime trade across the Golden Horn, from the commercial suburb of Galata to the markets along its southern shore. Such a conflation of the quotidian and the historic may be traced to the genre of Northern European narrative art, exemplified by the work of Pieter Breughel the Elder, who was a pupil of Pieter Coecke van Aelst, the other significant documenter of Süüleyman's Istanbul in the sixteenth century.
In the background, one can identify the waterfront garden of the Topkapıı Sarayıı. A Byzantine gate and the nearby remains of what may be a monastery are located at the extreme left of the palace walls (see Figure 1 I). The grounds ascend to a prominent rise, marked by the monumental Column of the Goths, that is still a notable feature of Güülhane Park.44 Tightly clustered towers and domes rise over the Topkapıı palace (see Figure 1 III––IV), the walls of which extend past the Byzantine church of Hagia Eirene (see Figure 1 V).
Sheet VI: To the right of the palace walls and Hagia Eirine is the great church of Hagia Sophia, which is represented in some detail in its urban context for the first time in history, rising above its surroundings as the single most monumental structure in the city (Figure 11). The church is drawn with more immediacy than the accomplished perspective etching of the Süüleymaniye mosque, included in Lorichs's book of scenes from Istanbul (see Figure 7).
To the right of Hagia Sophia there is what appears to be a Byzantine church, possibly that of Christ Chalkites.45 Between the two is a large, apparently ruined structure, linked by Mango and Yerasimos to the building shown in the Freshfield drawing of the Hippodrome, which they interpret to be the former church of St. John Diippion.46 Farther to the right is another very large circular or polygonal domed building; judging from its design, this may also be a Byzantine structure (see Figure 1 VI). Below, on the mid-slope, are the ruins of another large structure (Figure 12). It appears to be of masonry, and at least three stories in height. The identity of this building is unknown, although its massive walls and small openings suggest a medieval building, possibly with a defensive function. It is known that fortified quarters were established by Venetian, Pisan, and Genoese traders in this area before and during the reign of Manuel I Comnenus (1143––1180), and are known to have existed on the south of the Golden Horn until the traders moved to the area of Pera for greater security.47 A second possibility is that the ruins belonged to one of the monasteries known to have existed in the area, such as the Monastery of the Ex-logothete.48
Sheets VII to IX: To the right, just as the panorama reaches the center of the city, in the vicinity of the Hippodrome, the drawing has suffered the loss of almost the entire panel VII. The missing piece would have depicted the harbor and mercantile buildings along the seashore, and conceivably, the then-extant ruins of the Byzantine Great Palace and its neighboring structures.
The next, eighth panel is revealing, as it shows several streets ascending from the wharves and waterfront buildings toward what had been the Byzantine Mese or "Middle Road." In the center is Constantine's Column (Figure 13), its height exaggerated for the sake of the drawing, and a small structure labeled Elççi khan, or Elççııhan, the lodgings of Busbecq's Imperial embassy, and which he found inadequate (see Figure 1 VIII, X). Busbecq's autobiographical account of his stay emphasizes the experience of the han as a virtual prison, within which his party was subjected to enforced privations.49 Nearby are three mosques, two hans, a structure labeled by Lorichs as a synagogue,50 and the tall Byzantine structure today called the Tower of Eirene. Next to this, one sees a large, pyramidally roofed, structure, identified by Mango and Yerasimos as the mosque of Atik Ibrahim Pasha.51 In the background, the massive form of the Beyazııt mosque is visible. The city below clusters densely to the slopes descending to the sea-walls on the Golden Horn.
Sheet X: Overlapping sheets IX and X is the enclosure wall of the Eski Saray, home to the sultans' superannuated harem (see Figure 1 XI––XII).52 Mango has identified part of this complex as "the main building, with pyramidal roof and corner turrets (rising) above Roxelana's mausoleum."53 To the right of this palace there is the huge Süüleymaniye mosque with its surrounding küülliye——the whole complex drawn with considerable accuracy——and, on the slope below this, is a strange collection of what appear to be ruins (detail, Figure 14). Mango notes: "Underneath the southwest minaret of the mosque, next to a polygonal fountain, is a curious amphitheater-like building and a little lower and to the right a columned porch surmounted by a gable like that of a Roman temple. It may be doubted that these really existed."54 It is more likely that these two buildings, and a third columnar structure to the right, were unusual structures that the artist noticed. Elsewhere in the panorama, Lorichs filled in the spaces between notable features and monuments with generalized building forms, not distinctive structures like these. The structures shown on this (tenth) sheet are of great interest. The semicircular structure evokes two documented archaeological sites in Istanbul, notably the sigma-shaped palace of Antiochos55 and the hexagonal structure with semicircular portico in the Mangana region of the city.56
While any interpretation of these unusual structures on sheet X requires to be tested through empirical topographical analysis and archaeological excavations, nonetheless a few observations can be made. Lorichs's drawing shows an annular, roofed structure with external buttresses, between which are rectilinear windows positioned high on the wall. This building is located on a terrace northwest of the Süüleymaniye mosque, overlooking the Golden Horn. To its left is depicted a domed, polygonal (probably octagonal) building. This semicircular structure, which may be located immediately northwest of the Süüleymaniye mosque, on an apparently NW-SE alignment and open to the southeast, is not recognizably Ottoman in appearance, and is perhaps Byzantine, the buttresses implying stone or brick construction. It is in the same region of the city as the gently curved structure recorded by Alfons Maria Schneider, which he tentatively interpreted as a theater. He made reference to six curving rows of seating, located 3 meters below the road surface of Kible Sokağğıı, southeast of the mosque there, and descending to the southeast, and thus on the same orientation as the semicircular structure shown in Lorichs's drawing.57 Further evidence is provided by the Vavassore view of Istanbul (see Figure 4) on which, northwest of the Old Seraglio——partially removed to make way for the Süüleymaniye mosque——a semicircular, arcaded structure, labeled "Teatro," is shown. While tempting, the structure described by Schneider is not the theater-like building in Lorichs's drawing. A comparison of the topography of the latter to aerial photography of the area north of the Süüleymaniye mosque suggests that it is situated at an elevation close to that of the mosque, and possibly in the vicinity of the terrace now occupied by the Botanical Institute, north of the tomb of the architect Sinan and immediately northwest of the Süüleymaniye mosque. The open ground northeast of the Institute slopes steeply down to Schneider's site of Kible Sokağğıı, as is also shown on Lorichs's drawing. Lorichs's and Schneider's theater-like buildings are therefore different structures. Some relationship to the structure depicted by Vavassore remains a possibility. A semicircular structure may well have been interpreted as a theater by the original artist, whose view Vavassore copied.58 However Lorichs's drawing shows a semicircular roofed structure enclosing an open space, more like a Late Antique apsidal street portico, an exedra, rather than a fully roofed structure of an odeon-type theater.
Below and to the right of the exedra is another plausibly Byzantine structure, a linear portico (see Figure 14). The eastern end of this structure is obscured by another building, but a lower round-headed gateway is depicted at its western end. If this gate were estimated at 2.5 to 3 meters, then the portico, which appears to continue in ruinous form to the right of the gateway, would have been of monumental size. Perhaps it is a ruinous and obsolete porticoed wall, possibly an enclosure, at the base of the slope up to the exedra. The structure, if realistically shown, is unlikely to postdate late antiquity, and can be plausibly ascribed to the Early Byzantine period. It might be a stretch of porticoed street (not the Mese, given its location) or——more likely in view of the gateway——a porticoed enclosure, either public or private. Above and to the right of this "portico," and right of the exedra, there is a series of seven tall rectangles, resembling the column shafts in the portico, perhaps a second, ruinous portico on an east-west alignment. The intervening terrace and/or slope implies that this is probably a structure separate from the other two, unless the artist has duplicated the portico by mistake, as he did with the base of the ŞŞehzade mosque on sheet XI. Remains of similar portico structures have been found in several locations in Istanbul.59 Rather than dismissing these as the artist's fabrications, they are, at the least, worthy of further study that would locate their positions, based upon the pictorial evidence, in relation to the present-day plan of Istanbul. In the computer-based analysis described below, the locations of these structures were tested.
Sheet XI: Further to the right of the panorama, the view is interrupted by two figures in the foreground who stand on a crenellated tower (detail, Figure 15). One, a middle-aged turbaned man, clearly represented as Turkish, sits and holds a jar of ink. His appearance recalls several of the figures from daily life in Constantinople in Lorichs's book Wolgerissene und Geschnittenes Figuren zu Roßß und Fußß.60 The other figure, an elegantly dressed young man, stands to his right and gestures toward the landscape that he contemplates. He is preparing a drawing and appears to look toward something lost through damage to the sheet (a viewing grid?). One assumes that this is the artist. There is a paradox here: Lorichs's actual observation point from which this section of the panorama was made is behind his self-portrait, shown in the act of preparing his drawing. In this way, he is both subject and object, inserted into the historical view as a protagonist and declared as a witness to what he observes. The drawing is, in this rare instance, clearly allegorical, rather than descriptive. Erik Fischer has identified Lorichs's pose as having been based upon the woodcut representation of the Western Emperor Charles V before Ingolstadt in 1546, made by Zwikopf in 1549 after Hans Mielach.61
Sheets XI––XXI: The view proceeds to the right, past the tower (thought by Mango, after Kurt Wulzinger, to be the northwest tower of the Galata walls——Viewing Point B)62 and over roofscapes, the aqueduct and tower of Valens, the Column of Arcadius, Yedikule, the domes of the Pantokrator monastery (see Figure 1 XII), and on to the hilly area of St. Andrew, the Fatih Camii, the mosque of Mehmed II (the Conqueror) (see Figure 1 XIII), on the site of the Church of the Holy Apostles.63 This is the most accurate representation of this important fifteenth-century Ottoman building, whose original form has largely vanished today. Farther to the right, the Selimiye mosque, built by Sultan Selim in 1522 (see Figure 1 XIV), lies within sight of the Theodosian land walls. In the sky between these two mosques are recorded the names, in Danish, of several churches on the skyline, a theater (the Colisseo de Spiriti),64 and the "Laulaca," referring to the Langa (Theodosian) harbor on the Sea of Marmara.65 The last two objects are hidden by the site's ridgeline. Nonetheless, they are recorded as things that Lorichs knows either through direct observation or through earlier representations, such as the Buondelmonte maps (originally produced ca. 1422) and the original of the so-called Vavassore map (ca. 1520). Lorichs, of course, shows more concern for the actual appearance of things. Mango notes elsewhere that the Danish artist made carefully rendered drawings of fragments of Latin or Greek inscriptions, languages he probably could not read.66 This suggests a desire to make a record of things as they were: the city and its objects were treated as evidence.
It seems likely that Lorichs undertook a succession of journeys on foot and on horseback, searching for vantage points from where he could construct the semblance of a seamless panorama. While many of these were apparently located on the walls or towers of the settlement of Galata, the locations differed from some of those that have been proposed by Mango and Wulzinger.67 The view extends along the Golden Horn littoral, following the surviving or replaced sections of the sea wall harbor. On the banks of the Golden Horn appear various anonymous manufactories and farms, waterfront boatyards and fishermen's huts——the everyday existence of the ordinary inhabitants of the city (see Figure 1 XII––XIX). A wide variety of structures can be seen on the slopes running down toward the water, but Mango is unsure of their accuracy. He argues: "We may imagine that Lorichs took care to represent faithfully the main landmarks and then filled in conventionally the 'sea of houses,' among which are some unlikely-looking structures like rotundas, pedimented porches, and what may be described as ziggurats."68 On the contrary, the panorama, like his other drawings of Constantinople, evinces a fascination with the appearance of things as they exist, rather than a tendency toward idealization or fantasy. The monumental ruined building on sheet VI, for example, is not labeled by Lorichs, but he has taken the trouble to delineate it in a realistic manner (detail, see Figure 12).
Representational inconsistencies, in particular the areas at the edges of the sheets produced by perspectival distortion, or where areas viewed from different viewing points have been joined together (such as, for example, the intersection between viewing points A & B) have been accommodated and adjusted to maintain the impression of a continuous visual field.69 To achieve this, the artist appears to have tried to suppress his subjective experience of space and time, recorded in the field drawings produced at different times and from eight separate vantage points. Thus, the drawing appears continuous and without center. In this regard the self-portrait of Lorichs is too minor a pictorial incident to dominate the drawing. The continuity, lack of center, and absence of an overall allegory suggest that the drawing is based upon empirical observation. Unlike earlier representations of the city, Lorichs's drawing seems to be indexical——its elements are not expressed as overt symbols, but as figures within a larger field. Yet the panorama is also imbued with significance, because the city is drawn as the setting for a diplomatic and personal encounter between West and East, emblematized by the representations of imperial and ambassadorial barges. In the tradition of Northern German art, an allegorical representation of the confrontation of the Western and Ottoman empires, is placed within a landscape of everyday life. In this sense, the panorama lies at the threshold of perception between the medieval world and modernity.70 Lorichs's panorama, drawn at a time of a conflict between the Holy Roman and Ottoman empires that threatened the existence of Western Europe, nevertheless constitutes the first empirical observation of an Eastern city. Unlike earlier representations, the visible evidence of the city and its teeming life is predominantly allowed to construct its own narrative, unmediated by symbolic conventions. In contrast to the conventional representations in the view of Constantinople in the Nuremburg Chronicle of Hartmann Schedel, and the views of the city by Vavassore and Buondelmonte, Lorichs's panorama appears to be based upon direct observation.
The city presented to the viewer by Lorichs is almost entirely Ottoman. This is perhaps surprising, given that little more than a century had passed since the capture of the city, and its Byzantine heritage was widely known in the West and in the Ottoman world alike. But, on the other hand, according to the first-hand sixteenth-century accounts of both Busbecq and Gilles, that there were surprisingly few remains of the Byzantine city to be seen. Busbecq wrote: "In many places there are remarkable remains of ancient monuments, though one cannot help wondering why so few have survived."71 Despite the overwhelmingly Ottoman character of the depiction of the city, the panorama is nonetheless a valuable source for the Byzantine urban past. Some of the anonymous structures depicted were probably Byzantine buildings that had been re-used and remodeled in the Ottoman period, and the absence of other known structures from the panorama may suggest that they had been demolished or obscured by this time. Perhaps they had fallen into such abject ruin that they were judged unworthy of depiction or could not be recognized by the artist.
It cannot be determined that Lorichs either drew all he saw or saw all that he drew. However, while Ottoman structures predominate, Lorichs included many Byzantine features and text referring to known Byzantine structures or ruins. He often——perhaps even always——showed important Byzantine monuments where he knew of their existence. Moreover, Lorichs exaggerated the scale of these, as in the case of Hagia Sophia, or the columns of the Goths, Constantine, and Arcadius. This process of editing raises questions about the accuracy of Lorichs's depictions of the city's buildings, whether Ottoman or Byzantine, and about whether his work can be legitimately termed a panorama, for panoramas are characterized by an implied stationary observer, the eye of the artist, pivoting around a fixed point like the rotating lamp of a lighthouse. In a sense, they subordinate the viewed city or landscape to the mechanism of viewing. The objectivity of such panoramas is only partial, as an accommodation must be made between the images that compose the panorama in order for their lines to accommodate the inevitable curvature of lines in panoramic space.
Panoramic representations have been analyzed within the narrative of colonialism, because they seem to establish a unitary social, cultural, political, and economic framework that makes the depicted scene appear continuous.72 They are typified and pioneered by the panorama of Edinburgh executed by Robert Barker (1796), in which the cityscape is subordinated to one elevated view. Panoramic representations of Istanbul of this type include the panoramas by Philipp Ferdinand von Gudenus (1741) which viewed the city from the Swedish embassy, Robertson and Beato's panorama viewed from the Ottoman fire tower (ca. 1857), and the great panorama exhibited at London's Leicester Square by Henry Aston Barker, the son of Robert Barker. Such images share the qualities of a stable point of visual control and, in particular, a detachment between the artist and his subject.73 Lorichs's panorama might resist such a characterization. The western ambassador Busbecq's journal of his time in Constantinople (1554––62) makes evident his sense of confinement and sensory deprivation, and his limited access to the Ottoman city and court.74 If one can trust Busbecq's elegantly constructed account, both Busbecq and his staff spent much of their stay in partial confinement, prohibited from moving freely through the city. He claimed to have only achieved greater freedom toward the end of his stay in the city, by which time Lorichs had departed. However, Lorichs's panoramic drawing and his other depictions of the city suggest that Busbecq's account may have been rhetorically biased. The view of Constantinople, drawn in 1559 from the vantage point of Galata, then (unlike its status in the Late Byzantine period) entirely controlled by the Ottomans, could be undertaken only with the approval of the Ottoman court, or otherwise as a furtive and potentially dangerous exercise. It is not a Western imperialist view, although it certainly deploys Western techniques. It might even be construed as partially reflecting an Ottoman view, if indeed the degree of control over how he could view the city affected the composition of the panorama. However, even if this were the case, the panorama probably cannot be seen as a freeze-frame view of Ottoman reality, but as a painstaking collection of moments and partial views recorded in field drawings and notes that have been assembled into a whole: it is a pictorialization of successive recordings, perhaps made over many days. If so, the considerable scholarly literature on the panoptical view loses its applicability.
What historical perspectives inform this image? In the wake of the Ottoman capture of Constantinople, an event that shook Western Europe, Venice and other cities attempted to reposition themselves as the centers of a Christian renewal, as the other Romes.75 This role was eventually assumed by Vienna alone. Henceforth, the capital of the Holy Roman Emperor was to be the sole claimant to the role of Second Rome in the West, at least for a while. Thus, Constantinople, the former Second Rome, is thus shown in Lorichs's depiction as having been submerged and erased by its Ottoman conquerors. Its surviving Byzantine monuments are depicted as sad relics.76 In contrast, the waterfront and foreground are filled with the teeming life of the new occupants. Like Busbecq, Lorichs was keen to document the details of this strange adversary which, for many Western Europeans, was perceived to be an agent of the end of the world. Busbecq's own account of his time in the city, published posthumously in 1649, ended with a call for Western armies to fight the Turks and to drive them out of Constantinople.77 This political dimension of Western depictions of the fallen city of Constantinople has been previously noted by Ian Manners in discussing the significance and evolution of the Buondelmonte map of Constantinople, first published around 1480.78
In fact, the map that was to influence the depiction of Constantinople for the next 250 years, the so-called Vavassore aerial view of Istanbul, perhaps of ca. 1540, was highly distorting, eliding many of the major monuments of Ottoman Constantinople (see Figure 4). A number of spurious details fill the cityscape. Manners adduces these omissions and additions to suggest that the map is derivative of an earlier, pre- (or immediately post-) conquest, map, although if so it is curious that so few Byzantine structures are depicted. The title of this map, Byzantivm sive Constantineopolis, appears to have been re-used by Lorichs. Manners suggests that the source for the Vavassore map was either the mapmaker Rosselli, who owned a large map of Constantinople in six panels, or the Venetian artist Gentile Bellini, who traveled to Constantinople in 1479 after a request by Mehmet II for a skillful painter.79 The Vavassore map differs substantially from Lorichs's map, in depicting the city from a bird's-eye vantage point that attempts to show the entire city in some detail in one view.80
Lorichs's drawing appears to lie outside this sixteenth-century tradition of topographical depiction. Unlike the earlier Vavassore map, there is no attempt to show the entire city. Instead, the drawing presents optical truths. However, it is also a personal document, an autobiographical account of an artist's encounter with an intractable alien locality. Unlike the Vavassore and earlier Buondelmonte maps, the drawing by Lorichs is not an attempt to symbolize the city, nor to represent it as contested space. Indeed it is surprising that Lorichs, a member of the embassy of the Holy Roman Emperor, should not have suppressed the Turkish character of the city and emphasized the survival of its Christian character. Instead, this appears to be a rare and scientific account of an encounter of a perspicacious observer with a subject that was too vast, and too intractable, to be represented in its totality.
Reconstructing Lorichs's View
Lorichs's panorama is not, as explained above, a 360-degree construction like those that proliferated in the late eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. It may, however, if based upon a viewing grid as suggested, be of substantial value as topographical evidence. The question is whether it was constructed from "a multitude of partial views taken from high buildings,"81 as Cyril Mango has claimed. Mango, following Karl Wulzinger, argues that the first of the panorama's multiple viewpoints was the upper ramparts of the Tower of Galata: "In the case of Istanbul, the obvious vantage point was and remains the Tower of Galata which, however, faces the eastern extremity of the old city, while affording an oblique and distant view of its further continuation and none at all of the upper reaches of the Golden Horn. To remedy this difficulty, according to Wulzinger, Lorichs chose no fewer than eight positions, the first on the Tower of Galata, the second on the northwest corner tower of the old Galata walls, three at TepebaŞŞıı, two in the Okmeydani and the last in the Jewish cemetery above Haskööy."82
Wulzinger's planimetric analysis of Lorichs's viewpoints proposes that the Galata, or "Christ" tower was the first observation standpoint, labeled "A" on his accompanying map (Figure 16). He notes, following Eugen Oberhummer, that the view was recorded from multiple observation points, and the sketches were synthetically composed to provide the effect of a continuous spatial panorama. According to Wulzinger, the viewing point A was used to view the arc from Süüleyman's palace at Skutari around to Hagia Sophia (sheets I––V). The viewpoint from which Lorichs depicts himself on sheet XI is proposed by Wulzinger to be the northernmost (more correctly, the tower furthest to the northwest), of the Pera defenses, labeled B, while, he argues, the detailed drawings of landmarks on the skyline were made from the Galata Tower.83 He interprets Lorichs's statement on the panorama, "daa ortt / zu Gallatta / oder / Pera da ich / Melchior / Lorichs / die Statt am / meisten (or den meisten) theil der Statt / geconterfeit / habe / Anno 1559" (the location at Galata or Pera, where I, Melchior Lorichs, drew most of the city in the year 1559 as referring to this northwestern corner tower.84
In the lower section of sheet X, there is depicted a pyramid-roofed and battlemented square tower, with the inscription "Hl. Antonißß Portten," or St. Anthony's Port, which Oberhummer associated with a ferry or ship mooring (see Figures 1, 13).85 The altitude of the viewing point above this tower does suggest that Wulzinger's viewing point B was elevated above the sea walls.
In order to test Wulzinger's analysis, a digital model of the terrain of Istanbul was constructed that positioned the viewing point of the observer on the original ramparts of the Tower of Galata, at a height of 99.2 meters above sea level.86 The view of the promontory of Istanbul southwest from this observation point was then compared to the topography depicted in Lorichs's panorama. In order to scale the drawing to the panorama as viewed from the Tower of Galata, the center point of the great dome of Hagia Sophia, and ÇÇemberlitaŞŞ, the Column of Constantine, were selected as key markers. Figure 17 shows the alignment of these landmarks; Figure 18 provides the plan. Possible exaggerations by Lorichs in the height of these monuments could, then, be discounted. The outcome of this comparative modeling was the observation of a discrepancy between the topography as viewed from the vantage point of the top of the Galata tower and that of Lorichs's drawing (see Figure 3, Figures 19, 20). Viewed from this vantage point, both photographs and our digital reconstruction reveal a portion of the Sea of Marmara meeting the horizon behind the headland of Seraglio Point (Saray Burnu) in the area of Topkapıı Sarayıı and the present-day Güülhane Park. However, the Sea of Marmara is invisible in Lorichs's drawing, calling into question Wulzinger's conclusion, accepted by Mango, that Lorichs's first viewing position was at the summit of the Galata Tower.
Empirical testing of viewing positions suggests that the vantage point that best corresponds with the first viewing location of Lorichs's depiction is about 15 meters above sea level, close to the water line of the Golden Horn and opposite a point between Hagia Sophia and Constantine's Column. This suggests that Lorichs commenced his drawing by standing on the walls (not the Christ Tower) of Galata, overlooking the Golden Horn. In the digital model, a viewpoint about 15 meters above sea level and directly down from the Galata Tower provided a view with a close visual correspondence with Lorichs's panorama between sheets 1 and 9 (see Figure 20).87 Wulzinger's conclusion that the first viewing point A, from which he proposed that the panoramic sheet sectors of I to V were constructed, was the top of the Galata, or Christ, Tower, is disproved.
The modeling also examined Wulzinger's placement of the second viewing point B, on the northwest tower of Pera, which he associated with sheets VI to XII (see Figures 16, 18). The model was adjusted to align with the center points of the Süüleymaniye and ŞŞehzade mosques, and a range of possible viewing points were tested. The greatest correspondence between the modeled image and Lorichs's drawing occurs with a camera point at a height of 45 to 50 meters above sea level, at the position of a tower southwest of Wulzinger's viewing point B, or position 8 on Figure 18. The modeling also revealed that Lorichs had incorrectly drawn the minarets of the Süüleymaniye mosque, and had mistakenly duplicated the base of the ŞŞehzade mosque, causing it to be drawn too high. Sheet XI was also found to have been misaligned with sheet X, further increasing the apparent height of this mosque. Digital adjustment of these errors resulted in a close correspondence of the landscape between the two mosques with our digital model, when viewed from position 9.
Monuments in this section of the panorama that we have analyzed in detail include the seemingly classical structures thought by Mango to be inventions of the artist, notably the two colonnaded portico structures and the exedral structure, depicted high up on the slope on sheet X (see Figure 14). Regardless of whether the viewpoint was taken to be Wulzinger's point B or the proposed point 9, the model indicates that the exedra stood on the site of the Botanical Institute of Istanbul University, at a level of 42 meters above sea level, and that it was a building of between 35 and 45 meters in diameter (Figure 21).88 A similar method was used to locate the northernmost portico at a height of approximately 20 meters, which confirms the supposition that it lay north of the exedra, and the western portico at a height of approximately 35 meters. Their original ground level would of course be several meters below these present-day levels.
Testing has thus confirmed Wulzinger's conclusion that the construction of the panorama was based upon multiple viewpoints and the closer observation of certain major landmarks. It has supplemented his analysis by supplying evidence of the viewing heights of the artist, an aporia in Wulzinger's triangulation-based analysis.89 It has, however, cast into doubt the locations of his primary viewing points A and B. The model has also suggested that the drawing has sufficient accuracy to serve as a topographical source. A comparison of the model with aerial photography of the area north of the Süüleymaniye Mosque90 reveals an intriguing topographical similarity, where the terrace abuts the mosque compound on its northwest corner, at an angle of perhaps 35 degrees further to the north. Here stand the Botanical Institute and several small mosques.91 North of the terrace is a wooded slope, now containing trees and horticultural beds, in a similar position to the wooded slope in Lorichs view. Below the slope to the north, and running northwest to southeast, is a narrow street, Kepenekççi Sabunhanesi Sokağğıı, which has approximately the same alignment as the Süüleymaniye mosque. The exedra in Lorichs's view appears to splay away from the orientation of the mosque compound like the modern terrace, while the northern colonnaded portico below the slope appears to be aligned with the aforementioned street. The western portico corresponds with the area at the northern end of another street, Hoçça Gııyasettin Sokağğıı. Lorichs appears to have described a site topography that has not changed appreciably since his visit. While the apparently antique structures that he shows are not described in any geographically-specific historical account,92 it is conceivable that these buildings, not far from the second fork of the main thoroughfare of Constantinople, the Mese, might be components of Early Byzantine palaces or public buildings.93
Lorichs's Panorama of Constantinople is a unique document that provides an apparently empirical account of the appearance of the sixteenth-century city, viewed across the Golden Horn from Pera. It appears to be designed to provide Western observers with an accurate representation of the city. His insertion of his self-portrait in the view seems to declare his intention to place himself at the scene of an historic engagement between East and West. Furthermore, the apparent equal emphasis on Byzantine and Ottoman structures breaks new ground, avoiding the symbolic representations of earlier depictions, such as the Buondelmonte and Vavassore views.
The relative accuracy of the drawing is confirmed by its close congruence with digital modeling of the city, when viewed from heights corresponding to the Pera ramparts. The artist's desire for an accurate representation is furthermore suggested by the evidence of his other highly detailed drawings of antiquities and scenes from daily life. This panorama should form a useful basis for the topographical reconstruction of the urban layout of both Byzantine and Ottoman Constantinople, supplementing the archaeological surveys currently being undertaken. It may be possible to identify in this depiction some Byzantine structures that are otherwise either known only through archaeological records, or of which no other visual record exists. It thus offers an important addition to an understanding of the architecture and topography of the Byzantine city, and perhaps the extent to which it had already been largely eradicated by Lorichs's time. Lorichs's testimony can be seen alongside that of his contemporary Pierre Gilles (Petrus Gyllius), whose description of the visible remains of the Byzantine city in 1544––47 is widely considered to represent the starting point for their study. Lorichs deserves to share the credit for initiating the archaeological recording of the Byzantine heritage of Istanbul.
In this paper we have based our study upon the recent facsimile edition of the Lorichs drawing with accompanying commentary: C. Mango and S. Yerasimos, Melchior Lorichs' Panorama of Constantinople (Istanbul: Ertug and Kokabiyik, 1999).
Recent studies on the history of panoramas and visualization include: Stephan Oettermann, The Panorama: History of a Mass Medium, trans. Deborah Lucas Schneider (New York: Zone Books, 1997). (Originally published as Das Panorama: Die Gesichte eines Massenmediums [Frankfurt am Main: Syndikat, 1980]); Bernard Comment, The Panorama (London: Reaktion Books, 1999); Susan Buck-Morss, The Dialectics of Seeing (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1993); Jonathan Crary, Techniques of the Observer: On Vision and Modernity in the Nineteenth Century (Cambridge, Mass. and London: MIT Press, 1990).
David Leatherbarrow, Uncommon Ground: Architecture, Technology, and Topography (Cambridge Mass. and London: MIT Press, 2000), 2. See also John A. Pinto, "Origins and Development of the Ichnographic City Plan," JSAH 35, no. 1 (Mar. 1976), 35––50, here 36––37.
Terry Comito, The Idea of the Garden in the Renaissance (New Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press, 1978), 159.
Mehmet Aga-Oglu, "The Fatih Mosque at Constantinople," Art Bulletin 12, no. 2 (June 1930), 179––95. See also Mango and Yerasimos, Melchior Lorichs' Panorama, sheet 11.
In addition to the publication by Mango and Yerasimos (ibid.), other studies of the Lorichs drawing include: Hans Harbeck, Melchior Lorichs: Ein Beitrag zur deutschen Kunstgeschichte des 16. Jahrhunderts Inaugural Dissertation, University of Kiel (Hamburg: Niemann and Moschinski, 1911); Erik Fischer, Melchior Lorck: Drawings from the Evelyn Collection at Stonor Park, England, and from the Department of Prints and Drawings, the Royal Museum of Fine Arts, Copenhagen, exh. cat. (Copenhagen: A. W. Henningsen, 1962); Erik Fischer, "Melchior Lorck: A Dane as Imperial Draughtsman in Constantinople in the 1550s," Kjeld von Folsach, Torben Lundbaek and Peder Mortensen, eds., The Arabian Journey: Danish Connections with the Islamic World over a Thousand Years (ÅÅrhus: Moesgåård, 1996), 34, both cited in Amanda Wunder, "Western Travelers, Eastern Antiquities, and the Image of the Turk in Early Modern Europe," Journal of Early Modern History 7, nos. 1––2 (Jan. 2003), 89––119. Cecil Striker interprets the Lorichs view as an attempt to depict the city as it actually appeared to the eye, in contrast to more literary representations. See: Cecil L. Striker, "The Coliseo de Spiriti in Constantinople," in Otto Feld and Urs Peschlow, eds., Studien zur späätantiken und byzantinischen Kunst (Bonn: Röömisch-Germanisches Zentralmuseum, Forschungsinstitut füür Vor- und Früühgeschichte, 1986) 1: 7––11, and note 5.
Lorichs was threatened with the loss of his noble status after failing to return to Copenhagen as a court artist following his journey to Italy. See Barnaby Rogerson, "A Double Perspective and a Lost Rivalry: Ogier Busbecq and Melchior Lorck in Istanbul," in Gerald M. Maclean, ed., Re-Orienting the Renaissance: Cultural Exchanges with the East (Basingstoke Hants.: Palgrave Macmillan, 1988), 90.
For discussion of the Vavassore map of Constantinople and its copies, see: Rudolf H. W. Stichel, "Das Coliseo de Spiriti in Konstantinopel: Ein Phantom——ein Beitrag zur Erkläärung der Stadtansicht vom Vavassore-Typus," Istanbuler Mitteilungen 51 (Tüübingen: Ernst Wasmuth, 2001), 445––59; Ian R. Manners, "Constructing the Image of a City: Christopher Buondelmonti's Liber Insularum Archipelagi," Annals of the Association of American Geographers 87, no. 1 (1997), 72––102; Albrecht Berger, "Zur sogenannten Stadtansicht des Vavassore," Istanbuler Mitteilungen 44 (1994), 329––55; Albrecht Berger, "Zur Topographie der Ufergegend am Goldenen Horn in der byzantinischen Zeit" Istanbuler Mitteilungen 45 (1995), 149––65; and Striker, "Coliseo de Spiriti." For technical development and cultural meanings of maps around the time of the Vavassore map, see: Margaret I. Fead, "Notes on the Development of the Cartographic Representation of Cities," Geographical Review 23, no. 3 (1933), 441––56; and Jüürgen Schulz, "Jacopo de' Barbari's View of Venice: Map Making, City Views, and Moralized Geography before the Year 1500," Art Bulletin 60 (1978), 425––74.
Fischer argues that Lorichs was back in Vienna by 12 August 1560. Fischer, Melchior Lorck, 23.
The self-representation of the artist shows Lorichs unrolling an already continuous panorama. It is almost certain that in fact he completed single sheets at a time, possibly preliminary sketches, which were then either transcribed in ink onto a final sheet, prior to the sheets being pasted together or inked in this final state. The final panorama is of course made of separate sheets pasted together. Perhaps Lorichs is showing the intended great woodcut that he never made.
See Alexandrine N. St. Clair, "A Forgotten Record of Turkish Exotica," Metropolitan Museum of Art Bulletin 27, no. 9 (May 1969) 411––23; Rogerson, "A Double Perspective," 89––90.
"Lorichs," in Algemeines Lexikon der Bildenden Küünstler, ed. Hans Vollmer et al. (Leipzig: E. A. Seemann, 1907) 23: 395.
Correspondence with the former archivist of the Evelyn collection at Stonor Park, Miss Georgina Stonor, has revealed that the latter drawings have been sold since the exhibition of works from Stonor Park and the Copenhagen Prints and Drawings Royal Collection at the City Art Museum Staats Museum for Kunst, Copenhagen, in 1962, curated by Erik Fischer and assisted by Stoner. The archived and unpublished papers of John Evelyn, including those pertaining to the collection, are housed in the British Library. The authors are grateful to Miss Stoner for her help on this matter.
See A. Rosenberg, "Melchior Lorch," in Augustus H. Keane, trans., The Early Teutonic, Italian and French Masters (London: Chatto and Windus 1880), 177.
Melchior Lorck (Lorichs), Christ and Samaritan, ca. 1550––76, cat. 17926, Museumsberg Flensburg Stäädtische Museen und Sammlungen füür den Landesteil Schleswig-Holstein, Germany.
Melchior Lorck (Lorichs), Saint Jerome, inscribed on plate: "ML 1546," cat. 18231, Museumsberg Flensburg Stäädtische Museen und Sammlungen füür den Landesteil Schleswig-Holstein, Germany.
See, for example, Fisherman's House at St. Johannis (1495/6) and Landscape with an Alpine Pool (1497), both in the British Museum, but perhaps most powerfully, Düürer's Large Piece of Turf (1503), in which a formerly disregarded subject, a tuft of a common thicket, is explored as an equally valid subject of study. The everyday material is given value as a meaningful and valid subject of study. The stuff of everyday is conceived as an equally valid window into the realm of significance.
Rogerson, "A Double Perspective," 88––95.
Melchior Lorck (Lorichs), Portrait of Ogier Ghiselin de Busbecq, plate inscribed AVGERIO A BVSBECA SACRAETIS ROM. REG. M. CONSILIARIO ET APVD TVRC. IMP. ORATORI, MELCHIOR LORCK HOLSATVS. F. Deo conseruatore duce. CONSTANTINOP. SEPT. CALEND. OCTOB ANNO 1557, with monogram MLF (Melchior Lorck Flensburg, cat. 10306, Museumsberg Flensburg Stäädtische Museen und Sammlungen füür den Landesteil Schleswig-Holstein, Germany.
See drawings of Süüleyman II, cat. 11955 (the Sultan shown standing, with an elephant and his Süüleymaniye mosque in background, a print of 1574, thought to be based upon a drawing of 1559), and cat. 11589 (Portrait bust of Süüleyman II), Museumsberg Flensburg Stäädtische Museen und Sammlungen füür den Landesteil Schleswig-Holstein, Germany; "Lorichs," in Algemeines Lexikon, 23: 395.
Melchior Lorck (Lorichs), View over Roofs toward the Arcadius Column in Constantinople, ca. 1559, pen and black ink, 208 ×× 326 mm, cat. KKSgb4625, Statens Museum for Kunst, Copenhagen, Denmark; Mango, introduction, in Mango and Yerasimos, Melchior Lorichs' Panorama, 4.
Melchior Lorichs, Soldan Soleyman Turkischen Khaysers . . . whare und eigendtliche contrafectung und bildtnuss (Antwerp, 1574).
Melchior Lorichs, Deßß Weitberüümbten, Kunstreichen vnd Wolerfahrnen Herrn Melchior Lorichs Flensburgensis Wolgerissene und Geschnittenes Figuren zu Roßß und Fußß, sampt schöönen Tüürckischen Gebääwden und allerhand was in der Turkey zu sehen. Alles nach dem Leben und der Perspectivae Jedermann von Augen gestellet (Hamburg: Herint, 1619).
For discussion of Lorichs's sourcebook, see: Fischer, Melchior Lorck,1962, cat. no. 11; Christopher Fischer, Melchior Lorck in Turkey (Copenhagen: Royal Museum of Fine Arts, 1990); Christopher Fischer: A Sight for Sore Eyes: 53 Master Drawings from the Department of Prints and Drawings, Copenhagen: The Royal Museum of Fine Arts, 1993); Birgitte von Folsach, I halvmåånens skæær: eksempler påå skildringer af Den Næære Orient i dansk kunst og litteratur omkring 1800––1875 (Copenhagen: Davids Samling, 1996), cat. no. 1; Kjeld von Folsach, Den arabiske rejse: Danske forbindelser med den islamiske verden gennem 1000 åår Copenhagen: Davids Samling,1996), 31––44, 35; Walter B. Denny, "Orientalism in European Art," The Muslim World 73, nos. 3––4 (Oct. 1983), 262; On Lorichs' life, see See Allgemeines Lexikon der Bildenden Küünstler, ed. Ulrich Thieme and Felix Becker (Leipzig: E. A. Seemann, 1909), 23: 395.
Manners, "Constructing the Image of a City," 72––102, fig. 7, a 1465 copy of the original Buondelmonte map.
See Hartmann Schedel. Register des Buchs der Croniken und Geschichten mit Figuren und Pildnussen von Anbeginn der Welt bis auf dise unnsere Zeit durch Georgium Alten . . . . in diss teutsch gebracht (Munich: Köölbl, 1975); Adrian Wilson, The Making of the Nuremberg Chronicle (Amsterdam: Nico Israel, 1977); Hartmann Schedel, Chronicle of the World: The Complete and Annotated Nuremberg Chronicle of 1493, intro. and appendix by Stephan Füüssel (Cologne and London: Taschen, 2001). For an evaluation of the value of this and other representations of Istanbul as evidence for the buildings and structures of Constantinople, see Jonathan Bardill and Albrecht Berger, "The Representations of Constantinople in Hartmann Schedel's World Chronicle, and Related Pictures," Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies 22 (1998), 2––37.
The possibility that the Schedel image was based on a pre-conquest print cannot be discounted, and these imperial Byzantine emblems may have remained in situ after the conquest, as similar sculpture does today on the land walls, but the apparent intent of the image, based on the lack of Ottoman features, would seem to be to convey a Christian character to the city.
W. Denny, "A Sixteenth-Century Architectural Plan of Istanbul," Ars Orientalis 8 (1970), 49––63. Al- Matrakççıı's representation was one of a series of city plans describing the "halting places" visited by the host of Süüleyman during its campaign in Iraq in 1535––37. Denny's article compares this plan with details visible in the Lorichs panorama. See also Dominique Halbout Du Tanney, Istanbul Seen by Matrakççıı and the Miniatures of the 16th Century (İİstanbul:Dost Yayıınlarıı, 1996).
Manners, "Constructing the Image of a City," 94––95.
Busbecq also emphasized the stature of Süüleyman in his Turkish Letters of 1633. See Edward S. Forster, trans., The Turkish Letters of Ogier Ghiselin de Busbecq: Imperial Ambassador at Constantinople 1554––1562 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1968).
Melchior Lorichs, Soldan Soleyman Turkischen Kaysers. . .. . . whare und eigendtliche contrafectung und bildtnuss (Antwerp, 1574), cited by Mango "Commentary," in Mango and Yerasimos, Melchior Lorichs' Panorama, 4.
Jacopo de'Barbero, Veduta prospettica di Venezia, Venice, ca. 1500, wood engraving printed on six sheets 134.5 ×× 282 cm, first state: Venice, Naval Historical Museum (with pen amendments), Venice, Correr Museum Library, cl. XLI n. 57; second state: Venice, Correr Museum Library, cl. XLIV n. 56. See also Jüürgen Schultz, "Jacopo de'Barberi's view of Venice, Map Making, City Views, and Moralized Geography before the Year 1500," The Art Bulletin, 40 (1978) 425––74.
Manners, "Constructing the Image of a City," 75.
See Hans Lautensack, View of Nuremberg from the West, 1552, Washington, National Gallery of Art, Rosenwald Collection; Bernhard von Breydenbach, Peregrination in Terram Sanctum (Mainz: Erhard Reuwich, 1486); copy held in Smithsonian Museum. For Bernhard von Breydenbach's views, see James Elliot, The City in Maps: Urban Mapping to 1900 (London: British Library 1987).
Mango, introduction, in Mango and Yerasimos, Lorichs' Panorama, 5.
Lorenzetti brothers, Allegory of Good and Bad Government, 1338––40, Palazzo Pubblico, Siena. See Web Gallery of Art, http://www.wga.hu/frames-e.html?/html/l/lorenzet/ambrogio/governme/index.html (accessed 1 June 2009).
Psalter fragment (The Hague, KB, 76 F 5), courtesy of the Medieval Illuminated Manuscripts Project. Koninklijke Bibliotheek, reproduced by Jewish National and University Library and Hebrew University of Jerusalem, http://jnul.huji.ac.il/dl/maps/jer/html/gallery.html (accessed June 21, 2005).
Denise M. Doyle, "Ancient Symbolism and Theological Geography: The Image of the Enthroned Christ in the Book of Kells," Journal of the Australian Early Mediaeval Association 3 (2007), 137.
Albrecht Düürer, Draftsman with Reclining Woman, 75 x 215 mm (Etching appeared in third edition, Underweysung der Messung mit dem Zirckel un Richtscheyt in Linien unnd Gantzen Corporen, durch Albrecht Düürer zusammen gezogen und zu Nutz allen Kunstliebhabenden mit zugehöörigen Figuren in Truck gebracht im Jar MDXXV, Nuremberg, 1538, otherwise known as Art of Measurement), in Wolfgang Hüütt, Albrecht Düürer 1471 bis 1528: Das gesamte graphische Werk Druckgraphik (Munich: Rogner & Bernhard, 1971), 2: 1460.
This discussion of the relativity pertaining to the construction of Lorichs's panorama touches on the larger question of the subjectivity or objectivity of perspectival representations. The concept of perspective as a symbolic representation of reality was developed by Panofsky. See Erwin Panofsky, Perspective as Symbolic Form, trans. Christopher S. Wood (Cambridge, Mass.: Zone Books, 1991). A recent critique of Panofsky's argument is given in Hubert Damisch, The Origin of Perspective trans. John Goodman (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 1994). See also Keith P. F. Moxey, "Perspective, Panofsky, and the Philosophy of History," New Literary History 26, no. 4(1995), 775––86; and Joel Snyder, "Perspective as Symbolic Form" (book review), Art Bulletin 77, no. 2 (June 1995), 337 ff.
Mango and Yerasimos, Melchior Lorichs's Panorama; Eugen Oberhummer, Konstantinopel unter Sultan Suleiman dem Grossen: aufgenommen im Jahre 1559 durch Melchior Lorichs (Munich: R. Oldenbourg,1902).
Mango, introduction, in Mango and Yerasimos, Melchior Lorichs' Panorama, 6.
Strangely, this event of the sea excursion of the Sultan and ambassadors does not figure in Busbecq's Turkish Letters. There are only two sea voyages mentioned——for example Busbecq traveled to Büüyüükada in the Princes' Islands during an outbreak of plague——but neither voyage involved the sultan. Did Busbecq seek to cast his treatment in Istanbul in as poor a light as possible? See Forster, The Turkish Letters of Ogier Ghiselin de Busbecq.
Dark and Harris have recently proposed that the high ground of the Topkapıı Sarayıı corresponds with the former Forum of Leo I, constructed in 471. See Kenneth R. Dark and Anthea Harris, "The Last Roman Forum: The Forum of Leo in Fifth-Century Constantinople," Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 48 (2008) 57––69.
C. Mango and S. Yerasimos, Melchior Lorichs' Panorama, 9: "The second [building immediately to the right of Hagia Sophia] is a Byzantine church, its dome propped up by flying buttresses. It is almost certainly the church of Christ Chalkites, converted by the Turks into a menagerie." From a viewpoint to the west of the Pera ramparts, the position of the church of Christ Chalkites, its structure in existence (as "Arslanhane," or lion house) would have been clearly visible if it were located in accordance with Mango's suggested position. See Cyril Mango, The Brazen House (Copenhagen: i kommission hos Ejnar Munksgaard 1959).
Nigel B. Westbrook and Rene van Meeuwen, "The Freshfield Folio view of the Hippodrome in Istanbul and the Church of St. John Diippion," Proceedings of the 24th International Conference of the Society of Architectural Historians Australia and New Zealand (SAHANZ), 2007. Other, less likely candidates for the identity of the building include the ruins of the Palace of Antiochus, the centralized audience chamber of which was later transformed into the Church of St. Euphemia, or those of the old library and law courts, perhaps in the vicinity of the view, but probably vanished by the time of the drawing.
On Manuel's relations with Italian city-states and their trading entrepôôts, see Gerald W. Day, "Manuel and the Genoese: A Reappraisal of Byzantine Commercial Policy in the Late Twelfth Century," Journal of Economic History 37, no. 2 (June 1977), 289––301; for a reference to the Latin quarters of the city and an account of the desertion and abandonment of urban fabric during the Latin occupation of Constantinople, see David Jacoby, "The Urban Evolution of Latin Constantinople," in Nevra Necipoğğlu, ed., Byzantine Constantinople: Monuments, Topography, and Everyday Life (Leiden, Boston, Cologne: Brill, 2001), 277––97.
The unknown ruined structure is in the vicinity of the Neorion, west of the Strategion. It appears to correspond to either a site south of the area that Magdalino has designated the Genoese Quarter, south of the Neorion Harbor, or nearby to the west, near the Neorion Gate, where he locates the Pisan and Amalfian quarters. Magdalino locates the Genoese quarter in the vicinity of the Monastery of the Ex-logothete. This monastery is noted as having supplied several properties for the Genoese. See Paul Magdalino, Studies on the History and Topography of Byzantine Constantinople, I, 91 and map, I: 2.
The ruins of the han that housed the Imperial Ambassador are depicted in Canon C. G. Curtis, Broken Bits of Byzantium, Part 2: Within the City: the Land Walls, 1891, fig. 28. Here the building appears to have been palatial in its scale. Again the operative narrative of Busbecq needs to be considered.
Mango and Yerasimos, Melchior Lorichs' Panorama, 10.
The Eskıı Saray occupied approximately the present location of Istanbul University.
Mango and Yerasimos, Melchior Lorichs' Panorama, 10.
See Jonathan Bardill, "The Palace of Lausus and Nearby Monuments in Constantinople: A Topographical Study," American Journal of Archaeology 101, no. 1 (Jan., 1997) 67––95.
Robert Demangel and Ernst Mamboury, Le Quartier des Manganes et la Premièère Réégion de Constantinople (Paris: E. de Boccard, 1939), plates I, XII.
See Alfons Maria Schneider, Byzanz: Vorarbeiten zur Topographie und Archääologie der Stadt (Berlin, 1936) (Amsterdam: Hakkert, 1967), 93 and plate 9.
Manners suggests that the source for Vavassore's image was a drawing by Gentile Bellini (who stayed in Istanbul in 1479––80), transmitted through its reproduction in a now lost woodcut by the Florentine printmaker Francesco Rosselli. See Manners, "Constructing the Image of a City," 93––94, note 29.
Schneider, Byzanz, 91––92, figs. 45, 46.
M. Lorichs (Lorck), Wolgerissene und Geschnittenes Figuren zu Roßß und Fußß (1619). Mango notes that Rembrandt possessed a copy of this book, and may have used its illustrations on which to base his "Eastern" or Biblical figures. See Mango, introduction, in Mango and Yerasimos, Melchior Lorichs' Panorama, 5.
Fischer, Melchior Lorck, 1962, 24––25.
Mango, Introduction, in Mango and Yerasimos, Melchior Lorichs' Panorama, 5. Mango is referring to Karl Wulzinger, "Melchior Lorichs Ansicht von Konstantinopel als topographische Quelle," in Theodor Menzel, ed., Festschrift Georg Jacob (Leipzig: Harrassowitz, 1932), 355––68.
Recent evidence shows that the Fatih Camii reused walls of the famous church. See Kenneth Dark and Ferudun ÖÖzgüümüüŞŞ, "New Evidence for the Byzantine Church of the Holy Apostles from Fatih Camii, Istanbul," Oxford Journal of Archaeology 21, no. 4 (Nov. 2002), 393––413.
For discussion of this structure, see Rudolf Stichel, "Das Coliseo de Spiriti in Konstantinopel," (2001). Stichel doubts the existence of this structure, arguing that the caption is an erroneous combination of "Colossus," referring to a popular name for the obelisk of Theodosius in the Hippodrome, and "de Spiriti," referring to the district in the vicinity of the Amastrianon that served as a site for executions. He argues that the depicted structure is a doubling of the Sphendone of the Hippodrome, explaining these errors as a product of the Vavassore view having been imperfectly copied from another source, possibly a six-paneled woodcut made by the Florentine artist and printer Francesco Rosselli, which in turn may have derived from an original source, possibly by the Venetian artist Gentile Bellini, who was commissioned by Sultan Mehmed II to prepare a series of paintings, including his portrait, and was present in Istanbul from 1479 to 1481. A differing interpretation is given by Striker, "Coliseo de Spiriti," who argues for it being the remains of a Theodosian hippodrome in the vicinity of the Forum of Amastrianos. Striker dismisses as implausible the attribution in Berger, "Zur sogenannten Stadtansicht des Vavassore," of the structure as the Myrelaion Palace.
Mango and Yerasimos, Melchior Lorichs' Panorama, 13. See also Oberhummer, Konstantinopel unter Sultan Suleiman dem Grossen, for translations of Lorichs' Danish inscriptions.
Mango, introduction, in Mango and Yerasimos, Melchior Lorichs' Panorama, 5. See also Lorichs's drawing of a sarcophagus in Constantinople, cat. KKSgb5465, labeled as possibly of 1563, Staten Museum for Kunst, Copenhagen.
Mango, introduction, in Mango and Yerasimos, Melchior Lorichs' Panorama, 5. citing Wulzinger, Melchior Lorichs' Ansicht von Konstantinopel (1932), 355––68.
Mango, introduction, in Mango and Yerasimos, Melchior Lorichs' Panorama, 6.
Wulzinger notes that the sheets from X to XXI presented difficulties caused by foreshortening, and deep recesses in the topography, necessitating multiple viewpoints to enable adequate description of the successive areas. See Wulzinger, "Melchior Lorichs' Ansicht von Konstantinopel," 359––60.
For a discussion of the origins of modernity in European architectural and artistic culture, see: Joseph Rykwert, The First Moderns (Cambridge Mass: MIT Press, 1980).
See Pierre Gilles, The Antiquities of Constantinople, John Ball, trans. Ronald G. Musto (introduction and bibliography) (New York: Italica Press, 2nd ed., 1988); Kimberly Byrd, trans., Pierre Gilles' Constantinople (New York: Italica Press, 2008); Edward S. Forster, trans., The Turkish Letters of Ogier Ghiselin de Busbecq (Oxford: Oxford University Press,1968) 36––37.
See, for example, Karen Burns, "Of Genre, Panoramas and 'J. N. L. Durand'," in John Macarthur, ed., Knowledge and/or/of Experience (Brisbane: Institute of Modern Art, 1993).
On this subject of the eighteenth- to nineteenth-century panorama, see Reinhold Schiffer, Oriental Panorama: British Travellers in the 19th Century (Internationale Forschungen zur Allgemeinen und Vergleichenden Literaturwissenschaft 33) (Amsterdam and Atlanta: Rodopi, 1999), 147.
Lorichs's view over rooftops toward the column of Arcadius, viewed from the Elççıı han, may well have been executed during this period of confinement.
Manfredo Tafuri, "La 'Nuova Costantinopoli.' La rappresentazione della 'renovatio' nella Venezia dell'Umanesimo (1450––1509)," Rassegna 3, no. 9 (1982), 25––61.
The term is taken (anachronistically) from Byron: "Fair Greece! sad relic of departed worth! /Immortal, though no more! though fallen, great!" (Lord Byron, Childe Harold's Pilgrimage 2.73).
Ogier Ghiselin de Busbecq, Ambassades et voyages en Turquie et Amasie de M. Busbequius (Paris: Pierre David, 1646) (BML 319577), cited by Fréédéérique Hauville et al., Le Voyage de Constantinople (Paris: ÉÉcole Supéérieure des Sciences de l'Information et des Bibliothèèques, 2003).
Manners, "Constructing the Image of a City," 77.
Mango, introduction, in Mango and Yerasimos, Melchior Lorichs' Panorama, 3.
Wulzinger, "Melchior Lorichs' Ansicht von Konstantinopel," (1932), see map.
Oberhummer, Konstantinopel unter Sultan Soleiman dem Grossen, 1902, 13.
Photoshop CS3 was used to compile different data sets of environmental information for diachronic comparison, using satellite-derived mapping as a basis, and both archaeological and historical documents as layers at the same scale. In order to carry out a comparative analysis, we modeled the Istanbul littoral terrain and major landmarks, notably Hagia Sophia, Constantine's Column, and the ŞŞehzade and Süüleymaniye mosques using Autocad Release 2008 software. In order to use camera-matching techniques, the data was imported into 3D Studio Max, Release 2008. This enabled a comparison between the digitized panorama of Lorichs and the 1:1 digital terrain of Istanbul and the monuments, through a theoretically precise digital camera, which could be maneuvered to find accurate best-case scenarios of likely positioning and focal length of parts of the panorama as viewed by Lorichs. Premier Pro CS3 was used to compile Lorichs' panorama as the background and animated versions of the terrain in the foreground, in order to test visual correspondence and therefore find best-case scenarios.
The height of 99.2 meters above sea level is a calculation based upon the 46-meter contour adjacent to the tower on Müüller-Wiener's plan of Pera, 321 and fig. 370, and the height of the ramparts below the conical roof (51.65 meters). Assuming eye height of 1.55 meters, the viewing point would be approximately 99.2 meters See Wolfgang Müüller-Wiener, Bildlexikon zur Topographie Istanbuls (Tüübingen: Wasmuth, 1977), 320––23.
The sheet numbering follows that given by Mango and Yerasimos, Melchior Lorichs' Panorama.
Several working assumptions were used for the reconstruction of the theater. Based upon the deduction that there were 14 bays in the structure, we estimated the diameter of the structure as between 35 and 45 meters, assuming a bay size of 4 to 5 meters between the masonry piers depicted in the Panorama. Regardless of the size of the structure, its position was clearly located. Known examples in Istanbul of this building type have widely divergent dimensions: Semicircular portico of the Palace of Antiochos (width about 77 meters), semicircular portico of the seven-apsed triclinium north of the Palace of Antiochos (width about 47 meters), and curved portico in Güülhane Park (25 meters). In addition there were larger urban examples of the semicircular porticoes, or sigma. On this form as public monument, see Marlia Mundell Mango, "The Porticoed Street at Constantinople," in Nevra Necipoğğlu, ed., Byzantine Constantinople: Monuments, Topography and Everyday Life (Leiden: Brill, 2001), 29––51, here 33––37. She discusses a sixth-century sigma-shaped portico at Scythopolis, incorporating shops, which has a diameter of approximately 50 meters (fig. 3a).
For his working method, see: Wulzinger, "Melchior Lorichs' Ansicht von Konstantinopel," (1932) 358, note 1.
The Istanbul Municipality provides zoomable aerial map and photographs of the site at http://sehirrehberi.ibb.gov.tr/MapForm.aspx?&rw=28B&cl=571 (accessed 17 Dec. 2008). See also fig. 562 in Müüller-Wiener, Bildlexikon (1977) showing one of the small mosques splaying away from the orientation of the Süüleymaniye complex.
Müüller-Wiener lists the following structures on the site: Cankurturan (or Kââtib ŞŞemsüüttin) mosque,Bââb-ıı-Fetva, and Ağğa kapıısıı mosque. See Müüller-Wiener, Bildlexikon, 1977, map, E5.
As noted above, the semicircular structure is unlikely to correspond to the ruins described in Schneider Byzans, 93 no. 13, and drawn in Vavassore's view of Istanbul (see n. 49).
See Paul Magdalino, "Aristocratic Oikoi in the Tenth and Eleventh Regions of Constantinople," Nevra Necipoğğlu, ed. Byzantine Constantinople (Leiden: Brill, 2001), 53––69. It should be noted that Magdalino places the palatial residences of "the Augusta Placidia, the Augusta Eudocia, and the Nobilissima Arcadia" close to the Mese, or main Byzantine road on the ridge of the hill, and south of the still-extant Aqueduct of Valens. The structures in Lorichs's view are depicted northwest of the Süüleymaniye mosque, thus down the hill, and on the slope overlooking the Golden Horn.