Italian Architects

and Builders in the

Ottoman Empire
and Modern Turkey:

Design across Borders

Edited by

Paolo Girardelli and Ezio Godoli

Table of ConTenTs

Introduction vii
Paolo Girardelli and Ezio Godoli

Part I - Landmarks, Spaces and Politics

From Andrea Memmo to Alberto Blanc:
Metamorphoses of Classicism in the Italian Buildings
for Diplomacy (1778-1889) 5
Paolo Girardelli

Palazzo Venezia in the mid-19th Century:

Contributions by Gaspare Fossati and Domenico Pulgher 29
Rudolf Agstner

Political Ideals and their Architectural Visibility:

Gaspare Fossati’s Projects for Tanzimat Istanbul (1845-1865) 45
Göksün Akyürek

The Contribution of Luigi Storari to the Analysis

and Development of the Levantine Urban Fabric 63
Emiliano Bugatti

The Italian Presence in the Romanian Principalities

by the Year 1878: The Historical and Cultural Context 75
Raluca Tomi

Part II - Individual Experiences in Context

Nicola Carelli in Constantinople and in the Levant:
Some Notes 97
Fabio Mangone

Brothers but not Compatriots: The Fossatis in Milan 111

Giuliana Ricci

Giulio Mongeri’s Photo Collection:

The Eye of a Milanese Architect in Turkey 125
Giovanna D’Amia
vi Table of Contents

Luigi Rossetti in Izmir 139

Cenk Berkant

Italian Architects in Thessaloniki: New Elements a

bout the Work of Vitaliano Poselli and Pietro Arrigoni 149
Vassilis Colonas

Part III - Institutions and Investments

Alexandre Vallauri and his Works for the Italian
Community of Istanbul 165
Seda Kula Say

The Italians of Istanbul and their Properties:

An Analysis through the Petitions addressed
to the Italian Consulate, 1873-1910 183
Zeynep Cebeci

The Interests in Land and Real Estate of the

“Assicurazioni Generali” in Ottoman Turkey 199
Francesco Krecic and Diego Caltana

Giulio Mongeri, Edoardo De Nari and the

“Società Anonima Ottomana Costruzioni” (S.A.O.C.) 213
Vilma Fasoli

Part IV - Late Empire to Republic - A Plural Modernity

Rediscovering Edoardo De Nari,
Italian Architect in Turkey (1874-1954) 233
Büke Uras

The Italian Participation in the Competition for

Atatürk’s Mausoleum in Ankara 249
Milva Giacomelli

Finding a Balance between Art and Technique:

The Sports Centers Designed by Paolo Vietti Violi in Turkey 267
Paola Ricco

Contributors 281
 45

polITICal Ideals and TheIr arChITeCTural

VIsIbIlITy:
gaspare fossaTI’s projeCTs
for TanzImaT IsTanbul (1845-1865)

Göksun Akyürek

The declaration of the Tanzimat Edict, in the imperial gardens of the

Topkapı Palace, with the actual presence of Sultan Abdülmecid, is
considered a significant symbol of the official will for reformation in
nineteenth century Ottoman history1. This reform edict represented
an internationally sanctioned statement for building a new order for
the state, where the government promised to provide legal security
for the property and lives of its subjects. This task also entailed the
elimination of local authorities in favor of a centralized bureaucratic
government in a modern manner, and a gradual transition from
subjecthood to citizenship. All these transformations took place in
the international environment of intensified military and political
competition among European states prevalent since the seventeenth
century. The edict is therefore historically considered as part of an
ongoing process of reforms and change in the political and social
structure in line with growing interaction with Western Europe in
different fields of life. Along with these major changes, we may also
speak of an enlarging public realm with the introduction of new
governmental bodies, educational institutions, an ever-growing
press and a newly emerging elite as actors of these processes. Travels
to European countries for political missions and for educational
purposes accompanied by touristic intentions were part of these
encounters with various modes of European culture and its manifold
productions.

All these incidents, on the other hand, brought the task of building a
new public visibility for the Ottoman state primarily to the capital,
which would be experienced as an unplanned and incremental
process in response to the necessity of building new sites for the
new civic functions of the Tanzimat Era. Auspiciously almost at the
1 The term “tanzimat” literally means ordering. There is a broad literature on the
political history of the Tanzimat period. As examples see Findley 1980; Quataert 1997;
Islamoğlu 2004.
46 Part I Landmarks, Spaces and Politics

beginning of this process, in 1838, Swiss-Italian architect Gaspare

Fossati arrived in Istanbul as a court architect of the Russian Empire
in order to execute construction of the monumental Russian Embassy
Palace in the Galata district2. As an impressive neo-classical building
with an immense masonry structure, it was highly visible due not
only to its location at the skirts of Pera Hill, but also because of its
novel architectural features for which Ottoman bureaucrats had
even paid visits to the construction site (Lacchia 1953, 32). Building
of new embassies for different European states was another visible
aspect of growing international relations, gradually transforming the
urban setting of the capital. As a foreign architect with a European
diploma and a prestigious royal architect post, Fossati was not only
fortunate to be in sight right at the moment when Istanbul provided
new opportunities for a European architect, but he also had his own
merits in establishing relations with the higher circles of Ottoman
bureaucracy. Therefore, as a talented, hard-working and ambitious
architect, Gaspare Fossati, working together with his younger
brother Giuseppe, could design and build numerous projects in
Istanbul both for the Ottoman government and for private patrons
of various ethnic and social groups during his long stay in Istanbul
(between 1838 and 1858)3. In addition, this was a transitional period for
the official institutions of architectural production in the Ottoman
Empire. The centuries old Ottoman Office of Royal Architects (Hassa
Mimarlar Ocağı) had been abolished in 1834 and was replaced with
the new Directorate of Building (Ebniye Müdürlüğü) in charge of
not specifically designing but rather supervising the construction
of official projects. The overall field of architectural practices, both
2 The biographical information on Gaspare Fossati (1809-1873) is based on several
sources; Palumbo-Fossati 1970; Eyice 1975; Pedrini-Stanga 1992; Can 1993a and 1993b.
There is also a comprehensive collection of Gaspare and Giuseppe Fossati’s works
as well as their personal records in their private archive in Bellinzona, Switzerland.
3 It is mostly believed that official commissions of Gaspare and his brother Giuseppe
Fossati diminished soon after the death of Mustafa Reşid Paşa, their favorable patron,
in 1858, who had also been one of the most powerful actors of Tanzimat reforms.
Palumbo-Fossati notes that Fossati finally left Istanbul on August 19, 1858, referring
to his passport records (Palumbo-Fossati 1970, 146). However in the official document
for dissolving his contract on Darülfünun, he had an additional post of “Meabir
Meclisi Âzâsı”, meaning that he was a member of a kind of Development Committee
in charge of planning and executing infrastructural projects for the overall country
(BOA, İrade, Meclis-i Vala, no. 19893. February 14, 1861). Even though there is no
other additional information on his activities as a member of this committee, it proves
that he pursued his professional and personal relations in Istanbul. In the end the two
brothers designed around fifty projects for Istanbul, both built and un-built. There is
also need to mention that even if the role of younger brother Giuseppe was secondary
in the beginning, later on he would become an active participant in their collaborative
architectural production.
Göksun Akyürek 47

official and private, had therefore become a competitive market

populated by independent architects and contractors. As a result,
the “royal architect” post given to some architects working for the
state did not imply an official job with a regular salary any more.
Accordingly, besides the well-known Balyan family members who
were former masons, later contractors and architects, Fossati was
among those few with a European training background, favored
by the state for the new and prestigious projects in search of a new
architectural visibility primarily in the capital4.

Accordingly, I propose to discuss three specific projects by Fossati,

assigned by the Ottoman state, as prominent architectural productions
in parallel to those novel ideas emergent in the changing political
context of the Tanzimat era. In light of the official records from the
Ottoman archives, newspapers of the time and writings of various
authors as primary witnesses of the period, these selected projects
will be considered as productions of a complex social and political
mechanism which were eventually challenged, transformed and even
rejected throughout their processes of realization. Methodologically,
Fossati will not occupy a central position in this paper, while I will
rather attempt to contextualize his professional activities when they
intersect with the processes of these three projects in focus. I also
intend to visualize his role as mediator between political ideas of the
early Tanzimat era and their dynamic projection into the cityscape via
architectural practice. From a wider perspective, these projects will
also be influential in partially displaying the rich yet multifaceted
political and cultural panorama of Tanzimat Istanbul.

4 Four successive generations of the Ottoman-Armenian Balyan family members

worked as royal architects (hassa mimarı) throughout the nineteenth century. Without
doubt, they executed the most prestigious imperial projects of Istanbul, such as the
Dolmabahçe and Beylerbeyi Palaces. Since the 1840s young members were sent to
Paris for architectural training. For further information on the family and their works
see Tuğlacı 1993; Batur 1994. Despite the Balyans’ privileged positions, Gaspare Fossati
and William Smith, as royal architects in charge of building monumental palaces
for embassies, were also favored by the government. The British architect William
Smith, constructing the palace of the British Embassy, was in competition with Fossati
for receiving official commissions from the Ottoman government, yet his career in
Istanbul would not be as successful as Fossati’s, for reasons that are not entirely clear.
48 Part I Landmarks, Spaces and Politics

The Un-built Tanzimat Monument

One of the first commissions architect Fossati received in Istanbul
had quite extraordinary content in the Ottoman context; a
monument for the Tanzimat Edict. This project was certainly novel
for its time, because such a tradition of building non-functional
abstract or figurative objects and sculptures as monuments
dedicated to the memory of a person or a political event was not
part of the existing Ottoman cultural practices and traditions. Since
the earliest times a variety of public buildings, primarily mosques,
were built in the name of sultans or members of the royal family
and other prominent Fig.s from the army or bureaucracy. In the
eighteenth century monumental public fountains would also acquire
a similar commemorative use in the urban context, together with an
explicit practical purpose. Besides, free standing columns similar
to obelisks named as “marking stones” (nişantaşı) were erected as
functional targets in order to mark the archery range records of
the Ottoman archers and sultans. Yet, they had never occupied an
urban position. Remarkably, the already existent Roman obelisks
and sculptural columns such as the Serpentine Column in the
Sultanahmet Square, site of the ancient Hippodrome, were preserved
as visible spoils of former Constantinople. Apart from these publicly
acknowledged pagan monuments however, building monuments
for the symbolizing of political events had not ever been practiced
in Istanbul until this first attempt in 1840, soon after Fossati’s arrival.

Accordingly, a series of anonymous newspaper articles announced

the official preparations for two identical monuments to be placed
in two different places on the first anniversary of the edict. One
would be placed within the publicly inaccessible imperial gardens of
Gülhane where the Tanzimat edict was declared, and the other would
be in the middle of the busier and more central Bayezid Square, this
time larger in size for a better public display5. The intention behind
these monuments, referred to in the articles as “nişân-ı adâlet”
(mark of justice) following the tradition of the abovementioned
“nişân taşı” was further explained as the perpetual commemoration
of this significant event and its public benefits. The articles also
provide a full description of the project that matches exactly with a
drawing in the Fossati Archive (Pedrini-Stanga 1992, 97). The project

5 These were published successively in the two newspapers (one of them official, the
other semi-official) published in Turkish (Takvîm-i Vakayi October 11, 1840, no.209;
October 24, 1840, no.210 and Ceride-i Havâdis October 18, 1840, no.9; December 6, 1840,
no.11).
Göksun Akyürek 49

mainly comprised a central free-standing column, on which the

full text of the edict would be inscribed, surrounded by four lion
sculptures, one placed on each of the four corners, also functioning
as fountains. Nevertheless, despite the initial enthusiasm publicly
shared in the newspapers, the official project of building the first
sculptural monuments of Istanbul could not be realized in the end.
According to the late nineteenth century Ottoman chronicler Ahmed
Lütfi Efendi, the project failed due to the negative reactions against
such form of commemorational practice for being completely out of
Muslim traditions (Ahmed Lütfi Efendi 1999, 1068). This is a typical
political discourse brought very often against such controversial
incidents in official Ottoman historiography, preserving the mist
over the actual course of events. In fact, his remarks even point
out the delicate ground this monument was attempted to be built
upon. So far, we don’t really know exactly why this project failed,
but it may still be presumed that Fossati, who had already been
in contact with the government for various other projects, might
have had a positive influence in the formulation of such a project
along the lines of European cultural and artistic traditions. So far,
even if the monument could not be built, the project (designed and
later preserved by Fossati in his personal archive as the only visual
record of this unsuccessful attempt) is still effectual in displaying the
initiation of a remarkably new practice for political representation
in the urban context, intending to build a new dialogue with the
citizens6.

Darülfünun: The First Ottoman University

In early 1846, Fossati received another official commission for
designing and building a monumental university building in
accordance with the new Tanzimat policies on education, which
would eventually become one of the most outstanding, yet disputed
projects of its time. The quest for a new mechanism of scientific
production and demand for progress in public education by way
of introducing new schools were critical issues of the Tanzimat era7.
According to the official agenda for adjusting the current public

6 Later, at the end of the nineteenth century, building such monuments would become
a prominent practice for the public display of political power during the reign of
Sultan Abdulhamid II (1876-1909). For a comprehensive research and discussion see
Erkmen 2011.
7 For detailed information and discussion on the Ottoman history of education see
Ergin 1939; Unat 1964; Somel 2001.
50 Part I Landmarks, Spaces and Politics

education in line with the “needs” of the time, in an official decree

dating February 1846, Darülfünun was conceived as the ultimate
model for the highest level of public schools, roughly comparable
to a college or university (BOA, İrâde, Meclis-i Mahsûs, no. 656).
Historically, the initiation of professional schools teaching limited
positive sciences by the late eighteenth century had definite practical
military purposes. Firstly, two new engineering schools were
founded in Istanbul, focusing around the core of the military arsenal,
later on, a Military Medical School and a War Academy opened in
1824 and 1836 respectively. Due to their military character, they
were all inaccessible for the non-Muslim subjects of the empire. On
the civil side, at the primary level sıbyan mektebi comprised a basic
religious education with apparent social disciplining purposes,
while education at the secondary level of medrese was also mostly
restricted, and again centered on religious content. Thus from 1839
on, there were official attempts to introduce practical knowledge
into public education together with the creation of new schools,
while the traditional schools were also preserved. Nevertheless, the
public education policies of the early Tanzimat era often emphasized
practical education for long term economic development besides
the prevalent consideration of public schools as institutions to raise
civil servants. In parallel to these attempts, a new type of “scientific
knowledge” to be transmitted from Europe in various ways was, in
general, conceived as the crucial means to restore the political power
of the Ottoman state8. Yet, its content remained rather uncertain,
mostly because of the epistemological discrepancies in existence
until the late nineteenth century.

The decision of founding Darülfünun in early 1846 as an initial

model for higher education came into sight in this context. Despite
the apparent imprecision of the content and goals of education at this
final level, the task of realizing an ambiguous Darülfünun project
was immediately put into practice with the explicit support of the
sultan. Following the initial plan in February 1846 to establish the
Darülfünun, in May negotiations on the project had already started
with Fossati (BOA, İrade, Meclis-i Mahsûs, No. 656, May 31, 1846).
Despite the narrow budget for educational reform, the building was
ordered to be big, monumental and visually accessible both from
the sea and land, especially to the gaze of foreign eyes, “bâ-husûs

8 The conception of “new science” as a constellation of ideas, knowledge and

observations among the new Tanzimat elite is a broad subject of discussion beyond
the scope of this study. For further information and discussion see Akyürek 2011, 14-
64.
Göksun Akyürek 51

enzâr-ı ecnebiyye,” as expressed in the official correspondence related to

the building’s construction process (BOA, İrade, Meclis-i Mahsûs,
No. 657, July 1, 1846). Besides this principal claim for visibility, the
building was asked to be the core of a future urban transformation
and comprise both primary and secondary schools all to be exemplary
models of the educational reform. Thereby the building embodied a
wide range of political, social and architectural expectations so that
it operated almost as a prolific utopia.

In contrast to the vast extent of the expectations of the project,

financial resources were almost inadequate from the very beginning.
Even the selection of a feasible location turned into a complicated
process due to financial problems, which resulted in the choice of the
site of the old arsenal, Atik Cebehane, neighboring Hagia Sophia along
the procession route of the Topkapı Palace (Fig. 1). Because the site
was an imperial property, it was also free of cost. The initial design
of the project also went through several alterations by Fossati due to
the ambivalence of its location. In the end, he finalized the project
as a large and monolithic block reaching up to one hundred meters
in length, also competing with the position of Hagia Sophia in the
urban silhouette (Fig. 2). The building comprised three stories with a
tower on top and had a central neo-classical temple front at the rear
façade facing the Marmara Sea. Curiously, regardless of financial
restrictions, the building became bigger and much more elaborate
during the process of finding its final location in the city (Fig. 3).
At last, on September 1, 1846, the construction process was initiated
with a groundbreaking ceremony held in the sultan’s presence with
his entourage of high officials (Journal de Constantinople, September
06, 1846, no. 106). Remarkably, the Istanbul based newspaper Journal
de Constantinople (September 6, 1846, no. 106) and the Italian author
Abdolonyme Ubicini (1977, 193) both attributed new political
meanings to selection of this site. They both claimed that this was
a deliberate choice to show that the new university, the symbol of
the government’s will to progress, would be built on a site linked to
the former religious fanaticism and anarchy, a place that the former
janissary corps used to inhabit. In addition, Ubicini also believed that
the project would be safeguarded by religion for being next to Hagia
Sophia, so that the tension between the old and the new regimes, as
he implied, would be resolved in favor of the latter. However, in the
official documents on the selection of the site, the proximity of the
building to Hagia Sophia was never mentioned. Only those religious
fanatics in Ahmet Cevdet Paşa’s records opposed the project, saying
that building a religiously mixed school in such a holy spot was
52 Part I Landmarks, Spaces and Politics

unacceptable (Cevdet Paşa 1953, 13-4). In fact, all these reactions

and witnesses proved that the building, even before its construction
started, was visible to all, especially to the gazes of curious foreigners
wanting to see more than just what was on display.

According to Fossati’s initial plans, the construction would last

two years. However, in spite of the initial enthusiasm to start the
project, it would not be finalized so quickly. By the end of the first
year only one tenth of the foundation could be finished, and very
soon the overall work would be paused due to growing debts (BOA,
İrade, Dahiliye, no. 129/6636). In April, 1855 the incomplete building
was re-arranged as a hospital for the French soldiers wounded in
the Crimean War (BOA, Sadâret Mektûbi Kalemi, Nezâret ve Devâir,
no. 141/45). Finally, in 1860 the construction restarted, and it was
eventually completed in 1863 after an extended process of seventeen
years. Also, in 1861, the contract of Fossati was terminated after he
received payment of a generous atonement for this long delay (BOA,
İrade, Meclis-i Vâlâ, no. 19893). In January 1863, the building was
opened to the public with a lecture on physics, and these public
lectures without any academic goal or overall content continued until
1865. In March 1865, the Darülfünun was replaced with the Ministry
of Finance because the building was ironically found “too big” for
this initial use. Later, the building housed the first and the second
parliament and acted as the nucleus of politics for short intervals. In
1933, it was wholly destroyed by fire and ultimately erased from the
urban topography.

Despite its rather sad story, this monumental building placed in a

remarkable urban setting stimulated other new proposals and even
fantasies. A prominent project inspired by the Darülfünun was the
formation of the Encümen-i Dâniş in 1851, for translating books from
various European languages and writing new ones as would be
required for the Darülfünun. In Ahmet Cevdet Paşa’s records this
council composed of mostly well-known bureaucrats was formed in
line with the French Academy of Science (Akyüz 1975, 92). Also, this
council would supposedly go on to inhabit the Darülfünun building,
if it hadn’t been abolished in 1861, even before construction of the
building was completed. Another interesting proposal came from an
anonymous article published in Journal de Constantinople on April 19,
1854 titled “Création d’une Bibliothéque Orientale á Constantinople.”
Accordingly, the author suggested establishing a ‘Bibliothéque
Orientale’ or ‘Library of the Orient’ where all the old manuscripts
and books would be collected and presented to the European
Göksun Akyürek 53

researchers in order to provide the “truth” about the Orient. Hence,

despite the failure of the process to establish a university in the heart
of the Old City, it should be admitted that the process at least let
those novel ideas flourish in a visionary scientific context. In respect
to those initial plans, I believe that Fossati was deliberately selected
as one of the few architects available in Istanbul to concretize such
an ambiguous project, imprecisely modeled after a broad idea of
university both as an institution and as an architectural image.

Repairing of Ayasofya / Re-discovery of Hagia Sophia

The church of Hagia Sophia, already standing right next to Fossati’s
new Darülfünun building, was built in its final form with a daring
domed structure in the sixth century by the Byzantine emperor
Justinian and his architects. In 1453, following the Ottomans’
conquest of Constantinople, this great sanctuary was transformed
into a royal mosque which has always been sacred and inspirational
for the Ottomans due to its transcendent aesthetic quality in the
subsequent centuries. Besides its religious associations, the building
was considered as a precious spoil and a powerful icon involved
in a dynamic interaction with its changing context9. Although the
building’s unusual resilience kept its structure intact throughout
centuries, when Fossati received the task of certain usual repairs (not
intended as a restoration job in the modern manner), he described the
building’s recent condition as having serious static problems besides
its decay due to negligence10. In the official records, the reason why
Fossati was assigned this task was mentioned as his convenience due
to his ongoing construction of the Darülfünun, besides his already
known competence in architecture (BOA, İrade, Meclis-i Mahsûs,
no. 672, April 1847). Later on, Fossati reflected and worked on the
structural problems he observed and made additional decorations
in order to revive its imperial prestige and grandeur as a ceremonial

9 Gülru Necipoğlu presents an illuminating research and discussion of how the

Ottomans built a dynamic dialogue with this great sanctuary (Necipoğlu 1992).
10 Fossati gives a brief explanation about his works in Hagia Sophia in an undated
letter addressed to an unknown authority that is found in the Bellinzona archives.
Various historians attribute different meanings to this letter. Cyril Mango (1962, 112-4),
believes that Fossati wrote this to a high level Ottoman bureaucrat some time before
February 1848 in reference to the chronology of the mosaics he discovered. Sabine
Schlüter (2000, 63) however, claims that Fossati wrote the letter to the president of
St.Petersburg Academy of Fine Arts in order to ask for financial support for the book
he planned to publish on Hagia Sophia. I am more convinced in Schlüter’s statement
due to Fossati’s rather critical attitude towards the concurrent Ottoman context.
54 Part I Landmarks, Spaces and Politics

11
royal mosque . What must be emphasized here are the unforeseen
discoveries of substantial fragments from ancient mosaics Fossati
made with his brother during these repairs, which were certainly
not part of his assignment. Not surprisingly though, these newly
found mosaics were appreciated and admired by the sultan and
his bureaucrats12. Yet Fossati had to cover the figurative ones “for
their preservation up to a future liberal age” after he had recorded
them in detailed drawings. These incidents eventually contributed
to the emergence of a new kind of historical awareness towards the
building and its non-Islamic past. In fact, this was also beginning of
a period when a new archaeological museum was in the process of
formation, while archaeology and the previously disregarded non-
Islamic and non-Ottoman history of Istanbul were becoming new
fields of scientific curiosity and research for the new intellectuals of
Tanzimat13.

The official ceremony held on July 13, 1849 for the re-opening of
Hagia Sophia in the presence of Sultan Abdülmecid was turned into
an international showcase for the government to display the utmost
attention that had been given to this precious monument (Fig. 4)14.
More importantly, the building was re-introduced to the European
public with two successive publications following this process of
renovation which made the discoveries of its long-forgotten mosaics
possible. The first one was prepared by Gaspare Fossati (1852) and
published in London under the sponsorship of Sultan Abdülmecid
with his imperial signature on the book cover (Fig. 5). Yet Mango
(1962, 19) believes that if he could have got support from another
authority as he desired, he would have published a very different
11 The structural operations Fossati executed in the building are mostly found
doubtful. For further information on his work in Hagia Sophia see Mango, 1962;
Teteriatnikov, 1998; Schlüter, 1999.
12 Journal de Constantinople announced the visits of the sultan (April 9, 1849, no.161)
and later of Mustafa Reşid Paşa (May 9, 1849, no.155) with details of how he inspected
the famous mosaic panel of emperors Constantine and Justinian presenting the city
and the church to the Virgin Mary. During the visit of the sultan, Mango (1962, 14)
notes that he in fact wanted to leave them visible but because he was concerned about
the reactions he ordered them to be covered and preserved for an unknown future.
13 This is a parallel topic beyond the scope of this study. For further discussion on
this newly emerging interest in non-Ottoman history and archaeology as a contested
realm related with concurrent power/knowledge practices, see Akyurek (2010) and
Akyurek (2011, 110-175).
14 The renovation process was also followed by the European public and the opening
ceremony was presented in L’Illustration together with Adalbert de Beaumont’s
engraving (“Cérémonie d’inauguration de la Mosquée de Sainte-Sophie de
Constantinople, restaurée par Messieurs Fossati,” L’Illustration, Journal Universel, July
1849, no. 13).
Göksun Akyürek 55

version of the book, documenting its pre-Ottoman features. With

his final drawings, Fossati presented the building in its recent form
decorated and used as a mosque, but the drawings were impressive,
showing it in full colors with tinted lithography and giving the sense
of its extremely large scale and geometric complexity. A secondary
book by Wilhelm Salzenberg (1854) was published in Berlin and this
second book showed Hagia Sophia fully as a Byzantine church with
detailed architectural drawings. Hence, those initially unexpected
consequences of this renovation in Fossati’s hands eventually
brought a new publicity to the sanctuary. Consequently, in parallel
with the growing interest in Europe towards Byzantine art and
culture as part of an emergent curiosity on the Middle Ages, and
by means of these two successive publications, the building was
re-discovered as a significant Byzantine monument and gained
enormous popularity through additional trips and reproductions as
postcards15. Very soon, surrounding buildings were demolished by
the Ottoman authorities and it was made to fit into a perfect frame of
display (Fig. 6). In comparison with the previous projects of Fossati,
the task of repairing Hagia Sophia differs in terms of content and also
consequences. In a period when restoration in the modern manner
was not an issue, even though we are not sure whether Fossati was
deliberately selected for this task, both the architect and the building
acquired a new visibility in a new context at the end of an unplanned
process. Yet the political and social context also contributed to the
course of events, which ended up with an unexpected success this
time, when compared with the two other commissions of Fossati as
discussed above.

15 See Nelson (2004) for further discussion on these two publications, their authors’
interaction and the process of how Hagia Sophia was re-discovered in Europe as a
Byzantine monument alongside its newly gained publicity.
56 Part I Landmarks, Spaces and Politics

Conclusion
Gaspare Fossati perpetuated an active career in Istanbul as a skilled
and also privileged architect, because of his initial post as a royal
architect of the Russian Empire, receiving prestigious commissions
from the Ottoman government as well as prominent private patrons.
If the reformative political milieu that eased and sustained the Ottoman
Empire’s international relations was the major reason that paved his
professional path towards Istanbul, then this same atmosphere also
brought him the opportunity of receiving so many projects. On the
other hand, despite his promising career as an architect working on
prestigious projects for the palace and the government, there were
still invisible borders that he could not surpass as a non-Muslim
foreigner. Accordingly, when he asked for official consent in order to
buy a house in Beyoğlu owned by a Muslim, he was simply rejected
because of his non-Muslim and foreign identity16. Thus, the unseen
thresholds in the Ottoman capital, even if they could be challenged
in various ways, were not always penetrable for Fossati even as an
architect working for the palace. Furthermore, his good relations
with the government also rested on dynamic grounds depending
on his personal relations, which were seriously altered after Mustafa
Reşid Paşa died in 1858. As a firsthand witness of the political arena
which intersected with the multifaceted processes of architectural
production, Fossati was also not always very positive about the
future consequences of these projects. Remarkably, in his above
mentioned letter, he had also written that the new university building
of Darülfünun, being built on the site of the former Augusteion,
was not promising such great consequences for the Turkish youth17.
Thus, as a foreign architect in charge of designating new projects of
the Tanzimat era, together with his built works and well preserved
personal archive, Gaspare Fossati bears close yet critical testimony to
the cultural, political and architectural history of Tanzimat Istanbul,
suggesting alternative perspectives for new interpretations.

16 According to this official letter of rejection, Fossati insistently asked for permission
saying that “such consents were given to some notables” (BOA, İrâde, Hâriciye, no.
43/2011, December 12, 1847).
17 “…mais qui ne promets pas de grands resultats pour la genération actuelle des
Turcs...” cited in Mango (1972, 116).
Göksun Akyürek 57

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Newspapers
Ceride-i Havâdis
Journal de Constantinople
L’Illustration, Journal Universel
Şehbâl
Takvîm-i Vakayi

Ottoman Archıval Sources

Başbakanlık Osmanlı Arşivi, Istanbul, (Ottoman Archive of the Prime
Ministry) (BOA)
İrâde, Meclis-i Mahsûs
İrâde, Dâhiliye
İrâde, Meclis-i Vâlâ
Sadâret Amedî Kalemi
Sadâret Mektûbi Kalemi, Nezâret ve Devâir
Göksun Akyürek 59

Figure 1
Istanbul map showing the relationship of the initial and final locations of the
Darülfünun project in reference to At Meydanı (area of former ancient hippodrome)
and Hagia Sophia (Ayverdi 1958). (Highlights in gray and inscriptions are the
author’s).

Figure 2
Rear facade of Darülfünun with its neo-classical temple front, standing next to Hagia
Sophia as seen from the Marmara Sea (Şehbal, October 14, 1909, no.15).
60 Part I Landmarks, Spaces and Politics

Figure 3
An imaginary pespective view of Darülfünun as would be seen from the northeastern
minaret of Hagia Sophia, drawn by Gaspare Fossati. The tower would not be built
(Fossati 1852, plate 20).

Figure 4
Adalbert de Beaumont’s engraving representing the imperial reinauguration
ceremony of Hagia Sophia in July 13, 1849. Architects are shown as awaiting the
sultan’s approach in front of the mosque (“Cérémonie d’inauguration de la Mosquée
de Sainte-Sophie de Constantinople, restaurée par Messieurs Fossati,” L’Illustration,
Journal Universel, July 1849, no. 13).
Göksun Akyürek 61

Figure 5
The front cover of Fossati’s book on Hagia Sophia which was able to be published
with the financial support of Sultan Abdülmecid, signed with his imperial signature
(tughra) (Fossati 1852, front cover).

Figure 6
Fossati’s drawing from his book showing Hagia Sophia and its surrounding houses.
These houses would eventually be destroyed (Fossati 1852, plate 25).