Özet:
Paul Lucas, who visited Cappadocia in the early eighteenth century,
claimed that the “strange carved spaces in the volcanic cones were the
hermitages of Byzantine monks” (1) (2), which was echoed by the early
European travelers and explorers that followed him, who also suggested
that the harsh volcanic wilderness is likely to have attracted a large
monastic community. Ever since, the region in central Anatolia, famous
for its peculiar landscape and its carved structures, has retained the
monastic identity with which it was initially stamped (Ousterhout, 1996a,
31) (3). Surprisingly, however, there is not a single document referring
to Cappadocia in this sense, and it is unlikely that any will ever come to
light (Rodley, 1985, 5, 237; Ousterhout, 2005a, 177) (4). As for physical
evidence, unlike Western models, it is difficult to talk of a standard plan
for a Byzantine monastery (Rodley, 1985, 240-4; Ousterhout, 1996a; 1997a)
(5); and in the case of Cappadocia the idiosyncratic nature of the carved
architecture makes it all the more difficult.
In general, for Byzantine monasteries, consistency in the appearance of
some elements may still facilitate their identification as such. According
to Svetlana Popović (1998, 281; 2007, 48), for example, the presence of an
enclosure wall, a church for communal worship and a refectory for the
taking of communal meals would suggest a monastic establishment (6).
Likewise, Spiro Kostof in his book Caves of God highlights two particular
spaces within a carved complex, the church and the refectory, as being the
main indicators of a monastic establishment in Cappadocia (1972, 51; 1989,
51) (7). For the latter, this would mean the presence of a long rock-cut table,
trapeza in Greek, and flanking benches; but interestingly Kostof’s list of cave
monasteries also includes complexes that contain neither a church nor a
refectory. In 1985, Lyn Rodley (1985), in her book entitled Cave Monasteries
of Byzantine Cappadocia, put forward a differentiation between the so-called
“refectory monasteries” and “courtyard monasteries”. Although this was an important step towards bringing scholarly order to the different
perspectives on the numerous rock-cut cavities in the region, as the title
of the book indicates, the prevalent monastic identity was still preserved
(8). Rodley’s differentiation -though without denying the existence of
“some overlap”- was based on a simple rule: complexes with rock-cut
table and benches can be defined as “refectory monasteries” (Figure 1, 2);
while complexes with a more formal plan and “which are carefully carved
to imitate built architecture” but without a rock-cut refectory could be
referred to as “courtyard monasteries”, despite the fact that not all of them
contain a courtyard (Figure 3) (Rodley, 1985, esp. 9, 11). The examples
she provided of both categories included only those complexes with an
attached church or with a church in the close vicinity, but omitted many
others of similar organization but lacking a church.Towards the end of
the twentieth century, scholars conducting architectural surveys in the
region began to question the monastic identity of Rodley’s “courtyard
type”, claiming that an attached church alone does not necessarily imply
a monastic identity (Ousterhout, 1997a, 422; 2005b, 214) (9). Accordingly,
the lack of a refectory was considered as the main argument for the rather
secular character of the courtyard type (Ousterhout, 2010, 95) (10), and they
were accordingly re-classified as “courtyard complexes” or “courtyard
houses” rather than monasteries. Consequently, aristocratic families
with military connections residing in this border land of Byzantium were
suggested as being the initial inhabitants of these complexes (11). Rodley
(1985, 223-4) asserts that both the refectory and courtyard types were
probably occupied for a short period, mainly during the eleventh century;
and likewise, scholars speaking for the secular use of courtyard complexes
date them to the tenth and eleventh centuries (12).
It is interesting to note that despite the absolute absence of any kind of
rock-cut furniture for dining (Kalas, 2000, 89), the majority of so-called
courtyard complexes contained spacious kitchens, recognizable from
their huge conical, pyramidal or domical “chimney-vault” (13) and the
occasional presence of carved hearths and niches in the surrounding
walls (Figure 5-7). What is more noteworthy is that very few refectory
monasteries included spaces that may be identified as kitchens (Figure 8),
yet their contemporaneousness with the complexes is questionable (Rodley,
1985, 249; Kalas, 2000, 41; 2009d, 114-5) (14). Therefore, while supporting
the argument related to the secular character of courtyard complexes, this
paper sees the unusual separation of food preparation and communal dining
as a challenging new perspective that necessitates a re-examination of the
differentiation between Rodley’s refectory and courtyard types.