It is not only one of the most memorable and surprising features of the broch, but also one of the most ignored. While it is acknowledged as a core element of anything that can claim the name 'broch,' the uniquely haunting intramural stair that is so intriguing, seems to be accepted as having this iconic role without any more thought on what the stair might be for, where it might be going, or how it might have been terminated at the upper portion of the structure: it is simply there, going upwards; and they all have one.
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There are many illustrations showing how researchers think a broch might have been fitted out and used, complete with details of hanging skins and clothes, stored pots, and drying fish, but these concepts ignore the intramural stair, illustrating the ideas on occupancy and shelter with proposals that make no suggestions on how the stair, so beautifully integrated into the structure, actually fitted into the functions being indicated.
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Frequently the ideas of habitation and their forms offer impossibilities that both acknowledge the stair and then show no way or place for it to exit, while still proudly proclaiming the core role of the stair in the definition of things 'broch.' The remarkable clash in simple logic is apparently unnoticed.
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Just as with the proposition that highlighted the importance of the need for interpretations and illustrations to apply actual functional engineering solutions - see, e.g. the lines illustrating the floor in the diagrams above that inadequately suggest structure - one has to speak about the obvious need for practical, rational suggestions in theories if we are ever going to understand just what a broch was, and how it was used. Wild guesses, no matter how picturesque or persuasive they might be, become pure fictions when they ignore obvious basic needs: they are simply good, entertaining stories.
It is a truism to say that a stair leads somewhere - such is its nature, its invitation - but we seem to let this upward/downward thoroughfare remain as an aside, as something that gave/gives access to and from an amorphous height without any further clarification or explanation. This numb, inarticulate notion has given rise to the idea of brochs being lookouts, perhaps even signalling locations that communicate with each other, possibly using fire. These concepts all rely on the unstated assumption that the stair somehow provided access for these purposes; yet no further thought is given to this matter.
Questions about exactly how this all occurred with a roofed broch remain ignored; other querying thoughts about access in all weathers and the management of fire seem to be put aside by the overwhelming self-congratulatory self-satisfaction of a new idea that stimulates a whole set of different propositions and theories, most of which are built on sand: yet the broch publications and texts continue to develop these themes in elaborate and intricate detail, seemingly unaware of the unanswered question about the stair. It is as though the world of research has its own essential momentum that distracts it from the simple reality that a stair actually goes and stops somewhere, for a particular reason, and in a formally organised manner. Why else construct a stair so integrally a part of the built form? Ancient folk did not have the material, or the mental, or (im)moral luxury to indulge in the intellectual game of building stairs to nowhere, for the exultation of self-expression, or for any other muddled, 'interesting' reason that we are keen to experiment with today with much prim, self-congratulatory pride.
One needs to explore just what the intramural stair might have been; what it was there for; and how/why it was incorporated into the broch as a functioning whole by asking: what happened at the top of the stair; what happened at the top of the broch?
We need to try to answer these questions, not through our own experience, but with the understanding of those who built, lived with, and used the brochs. This proposition is far more complex than we might assume. Our modern era gives us unique perceptions that would have been alien to those of broch times. Our sense of superiority, self-confidence and arrogance prompted by misguided perceptions of 'progress,' creates such a sense of inevitable supremacy and certainty, that we find it difficult to see the world in any way other than through our own experience. Sensitivity, awareness, and humility are needed.
Matters that appear simple, basic realities to us may have been completely otherwise to those of broch times who must have been engaged with their own ambitions, and their sense of well-being and contentment, emotions that were all intertwined with their inevitable stresses and concerns. They were not lesser beings; just different to us with different experiences and expectations; perhaps they were just as pleased with themselves and their lives as we are; maybe more so?
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One only has to consider our more recent understanding of the experience of mountains to get some feel for this essential difference. Such places were once feared; it took people like Ruskin to show us how to perceive the majesty and wonder of the mountainous areas; to enjoy their vistas and proud elevations.
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We cannot even assume that the broch dwellers perceived landscape and distance as we do with our romantic eye. Was open landscape inspirational, something to fear, or something else? Was height something to be scared of? When one ponders the places and buildings of earlier times, one has to ask: were the stairs in the broch the only internal stairs known in broch times by the broch dwellers? We have to think about this notion knowing that the images of the stairs that we see today are those of relics, seen in a different light. The intramural stair was not just an internal stairway; it was a rising, dark tunnel, perhaps, at best, illuminated by the glow of oil lamps: one had to manage one's up and down progress by touch, without any guiding handrail that our health and safety would demand.
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Not knowing about or being familiar with stairs might sound a strange, almost naive proposition, but we can understand this possibility when we realise that, even today, it is likely that some folk in country areas might never have seen or experienced a lift, an escalator, or automatic doors - even the ocean.# One has to consider how stairs might have been perceived in such circumstances as these, especially dark internal stairs that rose to unfamiliar heights. We cannot just consider stairs in the blasé manner that we approach them today, as in the case of the broch, when we dismissively see the stairs as simple a service path providing access to occasionally surveil the region, dispose of refuse, or to send a message to the neighbour; or just as a builder's convenience.^ We need to acknowledge and try to comprehend the potential wonder and mystery that stairs might have held for those who could have seen any height as maybe being closer to the gods: such is the challenge of understanding brochs and their occupants.
Along with this task of revealing and comprehending subtleties, one still has to draw on interpretations that touch reality, knowing that the strength and performance of materials has not changed, and that the force of gravity is as constant as are the basic needs of man - food, shelter, comfort, and emotional engagement.
So what was this intramural stair? How did it terminate? What happened at the top of the broch? One can look at the current situation at Mousa and ponder possibilities. Of course, one has to realise that here, as with other broch issues, caution is required: parts of Mousa have been reconstructed. It is really just too easy to see all brochs finished off like Mousa with a roof plonked on it somehow; for one to assume that all brochs had an uncovered perimeter walkway that opened up to glorious vistas that we can enjoy today on this world's most complete broch located in the Shetland Islands.
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Along with this wary approach, one has to try to see possibilities that use the technologies of the broch era. We might have the luxury today of knowing about large cantilevers in iconic buildings like Wright's Falling Water; and long, horizontal openings like those of Modernism, first promoted by Le Corbusier in the Villa Savoye, but we should not try to envisage these as solutions to any broch elevation, even if they might look suave to us today. This position has to be understood in the same context as that involved with the perception of both stairs and landscape noted previously.
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Using Mousa as an example, one first notices that the top of the stair at Mousa is enclosed with an awkward waterproof hatch. One can assume that this solution would have been just too cumbersome for the broch dwellers, even though the need for enclosure remained the same. Without such protection the stair would become a drain channelling water from the top of the broch directly down to its inner core at ground level.
The assumption here is that such an outcome would be undesirable with a roofed broch. There would be no problem if one accepted Brian Smith's (Shetland Archivist) conjecture that brochs were not roofed. The argument has been put that it seems irrational for such effort to have gone into a structure like the broch just to leave it open to the elements. Having been inside Mousa during a light shower, one can sense how unpleasant an unroofed broch might be in enduring bad weather, a situation aggravated by the stair acting as a drain, leaving one wonder why such a structure would be erected to offer such an inconvenience.
If the stair was enclosed as appears likely, how?
One can assume that the enclosure was not a hindrance, that the solution was practical and functional: such were these times and their necessity. The proposition that brochs were defensive structures seems to suggest that there might be some sense in having access to a high perimeter 'lookout' edge, as one sees in castle ramparts; so it is attractive to envisage the solution as being Mousa with a typical conical roof of the era sitting on the inner wall of the twin-walled enclosure. This proposal offers easy access to the perimeter, observational walkway that can be experienced today, but makes it difficult to enclose the stair conveniently. It also leaves an open perimeter 'drain' edge that will catch water, snow, and anything that might be thrown up in an attack on the broch, assuming such aggression actually occurred. This approach does not appear to be useful in addressing the potential issues of enclosure.
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This thinking makes one suppose that the roof, that seems likely to be a known model - a conical thatched or earth-covered form - would have spanned the outer wall, allowing water, snow, and attacking objects to fall back beyond this encompassing surface, to the ground. Such a concept would have allowed all-weather access to the upper level without awkward hatches and enclosures, with everything being sheltered by the roof: the internal space, the stair, and the perimeter walk that could be likened to the castle's covered parapet walk.
Even with this, one has to realise that the intramural stair is hardly convent access. The stair is a narrow, dark, one-way thoroughfare. It seems to be something that might have been used irregularly, by a few, such is its snug awkwardness. Yet this effort to include the stair between these walls - it would not have been easy to set this stair out - seems to suggest a more important function than a mere service stair, something of an aside for incidental use only.
One could envisage an upper interior space under the broch roof and above the suggested storage areas over the entry area below, that was used for special community occasions. This could perhaps be seen as the community hall, something similar in purpose to the halls in Shetland regions today, where each has it's own communal centre. Perhaps, in the the broch, one might call this a 'chapel' space given the notion that broch life held an integral symbolism - a 'chapel'/community space accessed from the intramural stair.
With the segmentation of the broch seen in this way, one could envisage the intramural stair as having a far more significant role than being merely an access to the top of the broch for ad hoc defence or communication. It could be seen as an access to the spirits; the gods. This notion confers more coherent sense to this typical, broch element - that unique place of access to height - by seeing it as the processional way to sacred place: that transition from the everyday to the sacred; the 'way,' both as metaphor and reality - perhaps the beginning of circumambulation.*
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Such a proposition would allow one to see how a large group of people could use the stair in an ordered, processional manner, both up and down; experiencing the stair as the spiritual path in fact: but how could a group of, say, 30 or so people be sensibly accommodated in the upper space with a diameter of, in Mousa's case, just six metres?
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One has always been concerned with the proposals that show broch interiors with cattle below and a few people above carrying out sundry acts, as being the model for broch life. The question is: how can larger numbers of both people and their stock be accommodated when it is suggested that the broch is the retreat for the villagers and their animals during an attack? Where do folk go? How might they fit? Where do the animals go? It is clear that only a few animals can fit in below at entry level,+ and that the distribution of the illustrated functions makes an ordered arrangement of villagers tricky. Could it have been that one just squeezed in anywhere, anyhow, willy-nilly; beside the cow if necessary?
The idea of a special, upper communal space - a 'chapel'? - accessed by the intramural stair, offers a solution for the organised use of this tight stair by a crowd, with a managed, processional access both up from and down to the multipurpose, lower entry space. One has to get around the idea that this entry zone was a byre; the idea is interesting, but unrealistic.
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There was an intimate relationship between the dwelling space and byre in the blackhouse; and there are traditional models where the animals are at ground level with the dwelling spaces above; but these relationships are with living quarters.
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The proposition here is that it is more likely for the byre to be a part of the village structure than a part of the broch; cathedrals were never byres. In the same manner of thinking, the fodder storage would also have been external, taking the form of village shelters, sheds, if not as haystacks in yard areas as seen in the traditional Shetland crofthouse. Basic matters like the removal of waste that have been accommodated in the blackhouse, make the byre concept unlikely, impractical, in the broch.
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One is proposing a general purpose wet area storage/foyer/entry/work space instead of the concept of a byre - the general link to the everyday; an in-between space - as the lower level of the broch through which one could progress further into and up the intramural stair for special occasions. The movement from the everyday into a transitional, dark, climbing zone leading up into a special place would have been transformative. One would have climbed the stair in one's allocated place, in single file, to proceed into the upper 'chapel' space; but how could such a group be managed in this compact community area? It seems unlikely that the group could have just been let mingle as a fluid mass, to settle down wherever. Brochs do not have enormous spaces; a group of say 30 would see the area literally packed with people, with, at Mousa, less than one square metre of floor area per person being available.
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There is one model that might be suggested as being a reasonable solution to this problem with numbers: the cathedral chapter house. Here the group gathers seated around the perimeter. This formal arrangement fits with a processional management of a gathering, even circumambulation, and lets the numbers come together conveniently as a community in a carefully organised manner. The perimeter distribution is the same model as that used today in Shetland halls, where folk are seated around the edges of the space allowing a central area for dancing. For other purposes, seating and tables are juxtaposed as appropriate, and later removed. One could see the community gathered along the perimeter of the 'chapel,' perhaps around a central fire that has been carried up from below, (by the shaman/head man?), or a core symbolic effigy, with space left for the activities of the occasion.
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Under a conical roof that covers the whole broch, one can envisage the stair rising to the entry at the chapel level where the procession would turn right to move into the special space and along to the seating, perhaps passing a carved symbolic entry post, or through a symbolic doorway. Access to the perimeter surveillance zone would continue on from this entry point, perhaps up a couple of steps, into the narrow, dead end defensive zone surrounding the sacred/community space.
Here one is tempted to see a cantilevered roof floating above the stone walls, offering an uninterrupted, continuous viewing strip for surveillance; but, while attractive, one has to consider different times. It is more likely that the broch was fully enclosed with there being only, maybe, a half dozen slots for supervision and attack. We cannot assume our technologies or preferences, e.g. for admiring landscape from an elevated position, might have been those of the broch people. Full enclosure would have provided practical protection from rain, wind, and snow, and would have offered some sense of well-being and comfort to those who might be sensitised to heights, emotionally, either through a fear of heights or by being in awe of the gods; or both, allowing an individual's concentration to be directed to the emotions of arrival and its purpose. This 'uninteresting' expression would continue the unpretentious identity that one still sees today in Shetland: homes that look like drab hovels outside, have surprisingly rich and comfortable interiors; they are as uncut diamonds.**
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One can liken the infrequency of visual/attack locations to that of the similar openings in the traditional castle defences, as seen in Muness Castle on Unst, and in other traditional defensive structures like the Great Wall of China. Even six slots in 360 degrees would give a good coverage, especially with angled reveals and sills.
On matters religious and processional, one can recall the powerful images published on the opening of Le Corbusier's La Tourette monastery, where the monks, in their white habits, were photographed parading in single file to take their ordered places in the chapel's choir seating. The model is one often suggested by archaeologists where a formal path is seen as being a 'processional' way.
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The initial idea of having a conical roof that spans only the inner wall of the twin outer set, (as Armit prefers - Wikipedia), would mean that the stair exit space - the 'chapel' entry zone - would have to be covered with an extension of this roof or some porch-like addition. While the traditional roof form has such variations, this solution seems just too messy, too complicated here; it also opens up the perimeter zone to weather and attack as previously noted.
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So one can hypothesize a role for the unique intramural broch stair beyond that of a mere aside, suggesting an irrelevance that can be neglected. Here, seen as community access to a special space for special occasions, the stair can be given a role both mystic and real, one that might be seen to fit better into a world that knew no difference between these aspects of life; in a world that held no schism between the everyday and the spiritual; between man and the gods. Nothing was trivial; nothing was meaningless.++
As with the idea that this stair might be the only one known to the broch dwellers, so too one has to consider that the 'chapel' space - for want of a better name for a community/spiritual hall - is likely to be the largest and grandest space known by these same villagers, even though the 'chapel' might appear to be tiny to our eyes. It is an experience that could perhaps be paralleled with that of the Gothic villager and the cathedral. The broch can possibly be seen as the local cathedral: see - THE BROCH - SYMBOL & PLACE.^^ Such an understanding gives the intramural stair a role that equates to its importance in the definition of a broch: it is simply irrational to let it be forgotten. The stair is the broch's raison detre; its core reason for being.
NOTE:
One needs to give up the cliché idea of power and kingship that suggests that a broch might have been a leader's residence. There is little that is personal and intimate in the broch structure that, instead, lends itself to the understanding of place as both a functioning community centre and a symbol: the very heart of the community.
#
Colin Turnbull, in The Forest People, Picador, London, 1976 tells of the pigmy who, when taken for a drive out of the forest, could not read distance, and laughed at the idea that the white mountains were covered in water that was frozen, having known only the gushing flow of the forest rivers. The Forest dweller also grew more and more fearful as the distant grazing animals kept growing in size as the vehicle drove closer and closer. There was never any need to consider distance in the confines of the forest.
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NOTE:
Armit's suggestion that the intramural stair was merely used for construction purposes (Wikipedia) seems too trite. The stair may have been occasionally useful for the builders, but it seems to have an importance that goes beyond this incidental use with its iconic, integrated presence. The stair is too narrow to be useful for most building purposes other than for sundry access.
*
see Circumambulation Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Circumambulation - always clockwise. Broch stairs always rise clockwise: the procession could have continued clockwise up and around a central sacred object.
29 Dec 23
Diana Darke Stealing From The Saracens How Islamic Architecture Shaped Europe C. Hurst & Co. London, 2020.
p.95
since reverence for relics and ritual circumambulation was common in pagan, Christian, and later Islamic forms of worship.
p.106
The concept of a circumambulatory was taken from existing Christian architecture in Syria, where it occurs in the martyrium, the holy place where a saint was martyred.
. . .
The Muslims were of course already familiar with circumambulation, because of their own pilgrimage rites at the Ka’ba in Mecca, the holiest shrine in Islam. Pilgrimage rites in Islam and Christianity share many concepts - only the direction of circumambulation is different, with Christians moving ‘sun-wise’ (clockwise) and Muslims going the opposite way – (anti-clockwise).
+
It seems that, with the realisation of this problem with the animals, some broch researchers argue that only the 'prize' animals were taken in. This assumes a hierarchy in how the animals were seen.
**
W.P. Livingstone, in his Shetland and the Shetlanders, Thomas Nelson, London, 1947, records his surprise at entering the croft house on his way to Crussafield, and discovering a richly appointed interior.
NOTES
For 3D digital model of Mousa Broch, see: https://blog.historicenvironment.scot/2019/10/getting-measure-brochs/
The typical understanding of what a broch is is included in this link:
For a broad summary of broch matters and the references, see:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Broch
For more on brochs. see;
https://www.odysseyadventures.ca/articles/brochs/brochs_architecture.htm
See also: https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2023/03/the-broch-symbol-place.html
23 March 23
NOTES:
THE ROOF
One must point out that while there are illustrations that show the broch with a conical roof sitting on the external wall, fully enclosing the interior volume as has been suggested in this text, the cross sections of these propositions indicate no upper space for the stairs to service, leaving the only other purpose of the stair to be the access to the upper external edge of the broch. In spite of this, there is no indication of how the stair might allow this approach.
SLEEPING
If one is going to use the model of the Canadian longhouse as a comparison, then one should look at the possibility of the layers being used similarly in the broch. The text has taken the storage aspect and argued that the smoky upper region could be used similarly to the way it has been used in the longhouse; but might the first upper level have been used as a sleeping area?
While this might be possible, this ledge is still in the smoke zone. In the longhouse, this second ledge is low, adjacent to the fire and can enjoy its warmth. It is unlikely that any upper region would be happily habitable.
One can look at the blackhouse to see how even the lower upper space collects the smoke that comes off the peat fire. Here residents gather snugly around the fire for warmth while the smoke wafts up into the roof framing. This situation suggests that the proposition that the levels over the fire in the broch could have all been for storage.
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If one considers what one might call a ‘basic broch,’ one has only three levels – the lower entry ‘wet’ level; the next storage level; and the upper ‘chapel’ level: there was no other level that could have been used for sleeping. Perhaps one can think of the extra storage levels under the ‘chapel’ as being developed in stages as required by the community. A significant quantity of food would have been needed to be stored securely for the winter months; with times of plenty providing supplies that needed storage and preserving for other less productive periods.
ON CIRCUMAMBULATION
There are other possibilities for access to the ‘chapel’ that might have involved more self-conscious circumambulation. The entry to the upper space might not have been at the top of the stair. Entry to the ‘chapel’ could have involved a circular processional way around the inner space along the edge of the broch, a route that could have taken the villagers to the void where the stairway penetrates the upper level, at which point the turn right would lead the processional line into the ‘chapel.’ This would have left the access to the chapel remote from the secular use of this upper space.
There is the matter of toileting that needs to be thought about. If the intramural stair did take the villagers up to a ‘chapel’ space as has been suggested, were there toilet facilities at this level? Were they needed? How were such matters managed in the broch and the village? Hypotheses need to be tested on all levels of theory and practicality. What were the odours housed in the broch?
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23 March 23
BROCH TEXTS
https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2023/03/the-broch-symbol-place.html
https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2023/03/the-broch-its-intramural-stair.html
https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2017/01/on-brochs-enigma-of-meaning-form.html
https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2019/04/the-desert-broch-ksar-de-draa.html
https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2012/07/mousa-broch.html
https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2022/09/the-chinese-broch-hakka-tulou.html
https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2019/04/building-brochs.html
https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2016/09/how-architecture-shapes-and-moulds.html
https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2022/09/brochs-thinking-scribbles.html
https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2019/05/the-game-of-brochs.html
https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2019/04/more-on-building-brochs-thinking-doodles.html
2 APRIL 23
NOTE
See also: https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2023/04/shetland-dark.html
15 APRIL 23
See: https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2023/04/belonging-architecture-broch-experience.html
3 MAY 2023
NOTE
We do need to try to get into the minds of ancient people if we are going to truly understand them and their buildings; but this is difficult: see -
https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20230428-the-puzzle-of-neanderthal-culture-and-aesthetics
The puzzle of Neanderthal aesthetics
Getting into the minds of ancient people, never mind those of a different kind of human altogether, is one of the great challenges of archaeology. Ever since the first Neanderthal remains were identified in the 19th Century, how they lived and what they thought has been a fundamental and evocative question motivating those who study them. Yet despite immense leaps in archaeology over the past 160 years, the answer remains complicated and sometimes problematic, partly because of our own preconceptions.
++
10 Sept 2023
NOTE
Abū Bakr Sirāj ad-Dīn The Book of Certainty The Islamic Texts Society, Cambridge, 2015.
p.21
But although today men are so far from the Paradise as to be almost beyond the reach of any reminder of it, the men of old were still near enough to be keenly aware of its loss; and indeed it is no exaggeration to say that the most of what the ancients have left behind them is stamped more or less clearly with the consideration of how a man might return to the Paradise and become once more the true man. It is for the sake of this return that the Lore of Certainty was given to man by means of the religions.
p.22
It is owing to the natural tendency of all earthly things towards degeneration that the proportion of those who follow the Path is much smaller in later than in earlier times.
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