Syracuse rivaled Athens to be the most powerful city

Syracuse always had a magical sound, tucked away down south of Italy on the island of Sicily that, like no other, was and still is at the crossroads between east and west, north and south. This strategic location not only shows on the map of the Mediterranean but more so when you visit the island. That is precisely what I finally did after dreaming about it since my teenage years. Finding myself in the very heart of Syracuse, it is hard to describe what I feel or expect. I’m totally overwhelmed, as if floating on some imaginary sea, the currents taking me to the core of its great past.

It may come as a surprise to learn that Syracuse once rivaled Athens for its power over the Greek world, but as part of Magna Graecia, this was Greece away from Greece, which we have to approach from a totally different angle. Syracuse was the very first city to be settled in Sicily, and it was the Corinthians who, in 733 BC, disembarked on the small island Ortygia just off the coast. It was soon attached to the mainland by a causeway, creating two practical harbors, one on the southwest and one on the northeast. Syracuse grew quickly and then created its own colonies, like Akrai, Kasmenai, Heloros, and Kamarina.

With its expansion came the need for some form of government. Not being happy with the Corinthian aristocrats who imposed themselves from the onset, Syracuse turned to Gelon, tyrant of neighboring Gela, a colony of Rhodians and Cretans that had settled as early as 688 BC. Gelon took his task seriously and moved the larger part of Gela’s population to Syracuse, which became his capital in 485 BC. The Syracusans must have felt they made the right decision, for Gelon was able to defeat the Carthaginians at nearby Himera five years later. However, it must be said he did so with the help of his father-in-law, Theron of Akragas (modern Agrigento). This at least kept the matter in the family. The victorious Gelon had taken thousands of prisoners of war, which he now enslaved. The finest artisans among them built a temple at the summit of Ortygia dedicated to Athena to thank her for his victory. It probably was finished in 480 BC.

We can still admire this temple in the old town of Syracuse as an integral part of the cathedral (Duomo), whose façade was rebuilt in 1728-1754 in Sicilian-Baroque style after several earthquakes had damaged the Norman entrance. Isn’t it amazing that a place of worship has been used and re-used continuously for 2,500 years? This temple was erected in the Doric style, six columns wide and fourteen deep, with doors inlaid with ivory and gold. The larger-than-life statue of Athena would have ruled over the inside, an imposing figure made of Paros marble with her face, hands, feet, and weapons of pure gold. The tympanum of the temple was enhanced with a golden shield that reflected the sunlight, a landmark to the sailors. A refined statement of the city’s wealth, no doubt, till it was taken down by a too-greedy Roman politician, Caius Verres, some four hundred years later.

In Byzantine times the temple was converted into a church, and the cella-walls were pierced to create open arches while the space between the columns was walled up. Under the Arabs, the church became a mosque. Traces of this period can be seen on the outside walls where the Muslims added crenellations above the Greek triglyphs and metopes. Upon their arrival, the Normans raised the roof and inserted narrow windows. The chestnut ceiling is a later Spanish addition (using the hard chestnut wood from the Etna region). I read all this information but still need to figure out what to expect from this sanctuary that is right around the corner from my hotel.

The Baroque façade flanked by statues of the apostles Peter and Paul carved in pure Carrara marble doesn’t betray what the inside has in store for me. Once I cross the threshold of the Duomo, I am stepping into another world. It literally takes my breath away as I’m immediately confronted with the interior of a Greek temple – or at least as close as one can come to it. I’m standing in the temple’s opisthodomos, looking into the north apse between the outer columns (now walled) and the wall of the cella. The Byzantines have opened that up to let the light flow through the inner sanctuary. The narrow windows the Normans inserted near the capitals of the Doric columns filter the late-afternoon sunlight. There are more windows above the vaulted walls of the inner cella, where stylish chandeliers add to the eerie atmosphere of this church. It is hard to figure out which part is Greek, Byzantine, or Norman, but the result is absolutely superb and harmonious. Along both sides of the modern nave, we can read the Latin inscription “Ecclesia Syracusana prima Divi Petri filia et prima post Antiochenam Christo dicata.” In other words, “The church of Syracuse is the first daughter of divine Peter and the first to be dedicated to Christ after Antioch,” i.e., a confirmation that this is the oldest Christian community in Europe.

Two columns from the original opisthodomos of the cella flank the entrance door. Another twelve columns on the north and nine on the south side are still in situ, sturdy Doric fluted columns almost nine meters high and two meters in diameter! The twelve columns of the north side are also visible from the Via Minerva, around the corner of the piazza. They include their architrave and triglyphs above which the Muslim crenellation has been added.

The floor of the Duomo is covered with colored marble, and I wonder about the dating of the different designs, interrupted by colorful tombstones that carry coats of arms. The main altar is typical 16th century with a painting of the Nativity of the Virgin, which I find somehow out of place, as much as I am absorbed by the antique Greek remains. In the eastern corner is a chapel, the Cappella del Crocifisso, with ceiling frescos that remind me of the Sixteen Chapel at a very early stage. There are two more chapels along the south wall, but these are unfortunately closed at the time of my visit.

Walking back to the entrance, I get an unexpected glimpse of the north aisle and notice three commanding statues optically in the perfect place between the columns and the openings in the cella-wall. They could well be antique gods or goddesses as far as I am concerned but on closer look they are 15th century’s statues of St Lucy, a Madonna with Child, and St Catherine of Alexandria, made in pure white Carrara marble.

                  

Amazing how this amalgam of architectural styles and religions can trick the eye and the mind. A true jewel, though …