The Church of Sancta Sophia, Constantinople: A Study of Byzantine Building

by W. R. Lethaby; Harold Swainson

CHAPTER III

THE SILENTIARY’S POEM—PART I

The first eighty lines of the Prelude are an eulogy on the emperor. The succeeding lines were addressed to the clergy. “We come to you, sirs, from the home of the emperor, to the home of the Almighty Emperor, the Deviser of the Universe, by whose grace victory cleaves to our lord. The august head of our state lent a kindly ear to our words, as he sat in the hall; now we see the chief of the sacred priests. May he too favour us, and may none of those who listen carp at our words.”

The poem itself, in long Homeric hexameters, begins by describing the general peace throughout the Roman world at the time of the restoration of S. Sophia. Dr. Körtum notes the following references to events only then recently passed. The rule of the Vandals in Africa had been destroyed by Belisarius (534), and a later insurrection quelled (545); the reign of the Ostrogoths in the West had come to an end (554), and peace had just been concluded with the Persians (561). There is also an allusion to the conspiracy of this same year, when an attempt was made on the emperor’s life.

The poet then, describing the ruin caused by the earthquake (558) at S. Sophia, tells us that “the very foundations of the dome failed, and thick clouds of dust darkened the midday sun. Yet the whole church did not fall, but only the top of the eastern vault, and a portion of the dome above. Part lay on the ground, part open to the light of day, hung suspended in the air.” “But the emperor soon began to build again, the Genius of New Rome by his side.”

When the emperor went to the ruins of the church he praised the skilful craft of Anthemius; “he it was who laid the first foundations of the church, one skilled to draw a circle or set out a plan.[64] And he gave to the walls strength to resist the pushing arches, which were like active demons. This time it was not merely the crown of the arch that gave way [see above, p. [28]], for the very piers were shaken to their foundations.”

The poet now describes the building: “Whoever raises his eyes to the beauteous firmament of the roof, scarce dares to gaze on its rounded expanse sprinkled with the stars of heaven, but turns to the fresh green marble below, seeming as it were to see flower-bordered streams of Thessaly, and budding corn, and woods thick with trees; leaping flocks too and twining olive-trees, and the vine with green tendrils, or the deep blue peace of summer sea, broken by the plashing oars of spray-girt ship. Whoever puts foot within the sacred fane, would live there for ever, and his eyes well with tears of joy. Thus by Divine counsel, while angels watched, was the temple built again.

“At last the holy morn had come, and the great door of the new-built temple groaned on its opening hinges, inviting emperor and people to enter; and when the inner part was seen sorrow fled from the hearts of all, as the sun lit the glories of the temple. ’Twas for the emperor to lead the way for his people, and on the morrow to celebrate the birth of Christ. And when the first gleam of light rosy-armed driving away the dark shadows, leapt from arch to arch, then all the princes and people with one voice hymned their songs of prayer and praise; and as they came to the sacred courts, it seemed to them as if the mighty arches were set in heaven.

Apse and Exedras.—“Towards the East unfold triple spaces of semicircular form; and above, on an upright band of wall, soars aloft the fourth part of a sphere. Even so, high over its back and triple crest, shimmer the tail feathers of a peacock, with their countless eyes. These crowning parts men learned in the builder’s art call conchs; and certain it is they call them so from a shell of the sea, or ’tis a craftsman’s name.

Apse.—“The middle apse holds the stalls (thokoi) and steps (bathra) ranged circle-wise. Some on the level of the ground are massed close together round the centre; and as they rise higher, with the spaces between them, they widen out little by little, until they come to the stalls of silver. Thus with increasing circles they ever wheel round a fixed circle in the pavement.

Bema.—“Now the apse is separated [from the nave] by a space between vertical walls built on strong foundations, with an arch[65] above, not a portion of a sphere, but in the form of a cylinder cleft in twain.

Exedras.—“And westwards again are two conchs on columns, one on either side; projecting as if stretching out bent arms to embrace the people singing in the church. They are borne by columns of porphyry, bright of bloom ranged in semicircular line, and with capitals (karenoi) of gold, carrying the weight of the arches (kukloi) above. These columns were once brought from the cliffs of Thebes, which stand, like greaved warriors, by the banks of Nile. Thus, on two columns, on either side, rise the lower parts of either exedra (apsis). And for the support of each, the skilled workman has bent from below three small semicircular arches (apsides); and, beneath their springing, the tops (kareata) of the columns are bound with well-wrought bronze, overlaid with gold, which drives away all fear. Now above the porphyry columns stand others from Thessaly, splendid flowers of fresh green. Here are the fair upper galleries for the women. These too have arches, as may be seen from below, though they show six Thessalian columns and not two. And one wonders at the power of him, who bravely set six columns over two, and has not trembled to fix their bases over empty air.[66]

Fig. 5.—Ground Plan.

Fig. 6.—Plan of Gynaeceum Galleries. The left-hand side of each plan shows the vaults, and the right-hand side the iron ties and wood struts at springing of vaults.

“Now the workman has fenced all the spaces between the Thessalian columns, with stone closures, on which the women can lean and support their elbows. Thus as you raise your gaze to the eastern arches (antuges) a never-ending wonder appears.

Eastern Semidome.—“And upon all of them, above the curved forms rises yet another vault (apsis), borne on the air, raising its head aloft up to the wide-reaching arch, on whose back are firmly fixed the lowest courses of the divine head-piece (koros) of the centre of the church. Thus rises on high the deep-bosomed vault, borne above triple voids below; and through fivefold openings, pierced in its back, filled with thin plates of glass, comes the morning light scattering sparkling rays.

Part II

Western End.—“And looking towards the sunset, one might see the same as towards the dawn, though a portion differs. For there in the centre it is not drawn round in a circle, as on the eastern boundary, where sit the learned priests on seats of resplendent silver, but at the west end is a vast entrance (puleon); not only one door, but three.

Narthex.—“And outside of the doors (pulai) there stretches a long porch (aulon), receiving beneath wide portals (thuretroi) those that enter; and it is as long as the wondrous church is broad. In the Greek speech this part is called the narthex. Here through the night swells the melodious sound, pleasing to the ears of Him who giveth life to all; when the psalms of David are sung in antiphonal strains—that sweet-voiced David, whom the divine voice of the Almighty praised, and whose glorious posterity conceived the sinless Son of God, who was in Virgin’s pangs brought forth, and subjected to a Mother’s care. Now into this porch open seven wide holy gates (puleones), inviting the people to enter. One of them is on the south of the narrow porch, and another opens to Boreas, but the others are opened on creaking hinges by the doorkeeper (neokoros) in the west wall. This wall is the end of the church.

“Whither am I carried? What breeze has driven, like a ship at sea, my errant speech? The very centre of the famous church is all forgotten; return, my muse, to see the wonders scarcely to be believed when seen or heard.

The Four Piers.—“Alongside of the eastern and western curves (kukloi)—the half-circles with their pairs of columns from Thebes—stand four strong well-built piers (toichoi), naked to look on in front, but on their sides and backs they have supporting arches, and the four rest on strong foundations of hard stones. In the joints the workman has mixed and poured the dust of fireburnt stone, binding all together with the builder’s art.

“Above them spring measureless curved arches like the many-coloured bow of Iris: one opens towards the home of Zephyr, another to Boreas, another to Notus, and yet another to the fiery Eurus. And every arch (antux) has its foot at either end fixed unshaken, and joined to the neighbouring curves. But as each rises slowly in the air in bending line, it separates from the other to which first it was joined.

The Pendentives.—“Now the part between these same arches (apsides) is filled with wondrous skill. For where, as needs must be, the arches bend away from one another, and would have shown empty air, a curved wall, like a triangle, grows over, touching the rim of the arches on either side. And the four triangles, creeping over, spread out, until they become united above the crown of each arch. The middle portion of the arches, as much as forms the curved rim, the builder’s skill has formed with thin bricks (plinthoi), and has thus made fast the topmost curves of the house of stone.

“Now in the joints they have put sheets of soft lead, lest the stones, as they lie on one another, adding weight to weight, should have their backs broken. Thus with the lead inserted, the pressure is softened, and the stone foundation is gently burdened.

Cornice of Dome.—“A rim (antux) curving round, is firmly fixed on the backs (of the arches), where rests the base of the hemisphere[67]; this is the circle of the lowest course which they have set as a crown on the backs of the arches (apsides). And just under the projecting firmament (kosmos), the hanging stones form a narrow curved path, on which the man who cares for the sacred lights can walk fearlessly, and trim each in turn.

The Dome.—“And above all rises into the immeasurable air the great helmet [of the dome], which, bending over, like the radiant heavens, embraces the church. And at the highest part, at the crown, was depicted[68] the cross, the protector of the city. And wondrous it is to see how the dome gradually rises, wide below, and growing less as it reaches higher. It does not however spring upwards to a sharp point, but is like the firmament which rests on air, though the dome is fixed on the strong backs of the arches.”

(Here is a lacuna in the Greek text; two broken lines, 94, 95, speak of “window openings made in the apses, through which streams the splendour of the golden morning light.”)

“With dauntless pen I will describe what plan the emperor devised for the broad church, and how, with builder’s skill, both the curves of the arches and the vault of the wide-extended house were formed with thin bricks (plinthoi), and raised on firm foundations. Thus the skilful master-man, well versed in every craft, formed a ceiling to the lofty nave. Yet he did not send to the hills of Phœnician Lebanon, nor to search the dark woods of the Alpine crags, nor where some Assyrian or Celtic woodman goads on the oxen in dense forests, nor did he think to use fir (peuke) or pine (elate) to roof the house. From neither the glades of Daphne[69] by Orontes, nor from the wooded crags of Patara[70] came cypress wood, to form a covering for the mighty temple. For our noble king, since nature could produce no timber great enough, had it covered with stones (lithoi) laid in a round form. Thus on the four arches (apsides) rose, like a beauteous helmet, the deep-bosomed swelling roof (kaluptra): and it seems that the eye, as it wanders round, gazes on the circling heavens. And beneath the two great arches (apsides), to the east and to the west, you must know that it is all open, and extended in the air.

“But towards the murmuring south wind and the cold dry north, a wall, mighty in strength, rises to the under side of the rounded arch (antux). Now this wall is made bright with eight windows, and rests below on great props of marble. For beneath it six columns, like the fresh green of the emerald, in union support untired the weight of wall. And these again are borne on strong columns fixed immovable on the ground, glittering jewels of Thessalian marble, with capitals above them like locks of golden hair. These separate the middle portion of the glorious nave from the neighbouring aisle (aithousa) that stretches alongside. Never were such columns, blooming with a many-hued brightness,[71] hewn from the craggy hills of sea-washed Molossis.

North Aisle, Centre Division.—“And in the aisle itself, in the middle space Anthemius of many crafts, and with him Isiodorus the wise,—for both of them, acting under the will of the king, built the mighty church—have placed two pairs of columns, and in measure they are less than those others near them, but they are as bright with fresh green bloom, and they came from the same quarry.

“Yet their bases are not placed in a row, one after the other, but they stand on the pavement two facing two opposite; and above their capitals on fourfold arches (seireai) rises the underside of the women’s galleries. And close by these columns on the north side is a door, admitting the people to the founts that purify the stains of mortal life, and heal every deadly scar.

“Thus on four columns of beautiful Thessalian stone, in order, placed here and there, towards the twilight and to the dawn, along the length of the aisle (aithousa) there curves a weight of bending vaults (kulindroi) extending to the walls, which are pierced with openings; on the northern side they lean on the spaces that join the twin windows,[72] but on the south, instead of windows are empty spaces like a colonnade.

North Aisle, East and West Divisions.—“And again towards the east and west stand two columns from Thessaly, with lofty crests, and twin piers (stemones) from famous Proconnesus, fixed close by the doors. Towards the east there is but one door, though on the side of the cold north they walk through twain.

South Aisle.—“On the south you will see a long aisle as on the north, yet made bigger. For a part is separated off from the nave by a wall, and here the emperor takes his accustomed seat on the solemn festivals, and listens to the reading of the sacred books.

Gynaecea.—“And whoever mounts will find on both sides of the church the aisles for women similar to those below, and there is yet another, though not like those on either side, above the narthex.

Atrium.—“Now on the western side of this divine church you will see a great open court (aule) surrounded by four cloisters. One of these joins on to the narthex, but the others spread round the sides, where stand their several paths. In the very centre of the wide garth stands a spacious phiale, cleft from the Iassian peaks; and from it bubbling water gushes forth and throws a stream into the air, leaping up from the pressure of the brazen pipe—a stream that purges away all suffering, when the people, in the month of the golden vestments[73] at the mystic feast of Christ, draw the unsullied waters in vessels by night. And the water shows the power of God; for never will you find decay on its surface, even if it remains in its vessel, and away from the fountain for more than a year.[74]

“Everywhere the walls glitter with wondrous designs, the stone for which came from the quarries of seagirt Proconnesus. The marbles are cut and joined like painted patterns, and in stones formed into squares or eight-sided figures the veins meet to form devices; and the stones show also the forms of living creatures.

“And on either side along the flanks and outskirts (antuges) of the beautiful church, you would see open courts (aulai). These were all planned about the building with cunning skill, that it might be bathed all round by the bright light of day.

The Marbles.—“Yet who, even in the measures of Homer, shall sing the marble pastures gathered on the lofty walls and spreading pavement of the mighty church? These the iron with its metal tooth has gnawed—the fresh green from Carystus, and many-coloured marble from the Phrygian range, in which a rosy blush mingles with white, or it shines bright with flowers of deep red and silver. There is a wealth of porphyry too, powdered with bright stars, that has once laden the river boat on the broad Nile. You would see an emerald green from Sparta, and the glittering marble with wavy veins, which the tool has worked in the deep bosom of the Iassian hills, showing slanting streaks blood-red and livid white. From the Lydian creek came the bright stone mingled with streaks of red. Stone too there is that the Lybian sun, warming with his golden light, has nurtured in the deep-bosomed clefts of the hills of the Moors, of crocus colour glittering like gold; and the product of the Celtic crags, a wealth of crystals, like milk poured here and there on a flesh of glittering black. There is the precious onyx, as if gold were shining through it: and the marble that the land of Atrax yields, not from some upland glen, but from the level plains; in parts fresh green as the sea or emerald stone, or again like blue cornflowers in grass, with here and there a drift of fallen snow,—a sweet mingled contrast on the dark shining surface.

Sectile and carved Spandrils.—“Before I come to the glitter of the mosaic,[75] I must describe how the mason (laotoros), weaving together with skill thin slabs of marble, has figured on the flat surface of the walls intertwining curves laden with plenteous fruit, and baskets, and flowers, and birds sitting on the twigs. And the curved pattern of a twining vine with shoots like golden ringlets, weaves a winding chain of clusters; little by little does it put forth shoots, until it overshadows all the stone near with ripples like beauteous tresses. Such ornament as this surrounds the church.

The Capitals.—“And the lofty crest of every column, beneath the marble abacus (peze), is covered with many a supple curve of waving acanthus—a wandering chain of barbed points all golden, full of grace. Thus the marble in bulging forms crowns the deep red columns, as wool the distaff; the stone glittering with a beauty that charms the heart.

The Floor.—“And gladly have the hills of Proconnesus bent their backs to necessity, and strewed the floor with marble. In parts too shimmers the polish of the Bosporus stone, with white streaks on black.

The Mosaic.—“Now the vaulting is formed of many a little square (psephos) of gold cemented together. And the golden stream of glittering rays pours down and strikes the eyes of men, so that they can scarcely bear to look. One might say that one gazed upon the midday sun in spring, what time he gilds each mountain height.

Iconostasis.—“Our emperor has levied from the whole earth, and brought together the wealth of the barbarians of the west; for as he did not deem stone a fitting adornment for the divine, eternal temple, on which [New] Rome has centred the expectancy of joy; he has not spared enrichments of silver, and so the ridge of Pangaeus[76] and the height of Sunium[77] have opened all their silver veins, and many treasure-houses of our subject kings have yielded their stores.

“For as much of the great church by the eastern arch as was set apart for the bloodless sacrifices, no ivory, no stone, nor bronze distinguishes, but it is all fenced with the silver metal. Not only upon the walls, which separate the holy priests from the crowd of singers,[78] has he placed mere plates of silver, but he has covered all the columns themselves with the silver metal, even six sets of twain; and the rays of light glitter far and wide. Upon them the tool has formed dazzling circles, beautifully wrought in skilled symmetry by the craftsman’s hand, in the centre of which is carved the symbol of the Immaculate God, who took upon Himself the form of man. In parts stand up an army of winged angels in pairs, with bent necks and downcast mien (for they could not gaze upon the glory of the Godhead, though hidden in the form of man to clear man’s flesh from sin). And elsewhere the tool has fashioned the heralds of the way of God, even those by whose words were noised abroad, before He took flesh upon Him, the divine tidings of the Anointed One. Nor had the craftsman forgotten the forms of those others, whose childhood was with the fishing-basket and the net; but who left the mean labours of life and unholy cares to bear witness at the bidding of a heavenly king, fishing even for men, and forsaking the skill of casting nets to weave the beauteous seine of eternal life. In other parts art has limned (kategraphe) the Mother of Christ, the vessel of eternal Light, whose womb brought Him forth in holy travail.

“But on the middle panels of the sacred screen, which forms the barrier for the priests, the carver’s art has cut one letter that means many words, for it combines the name of our king and queen. And he has also wrought a form like a shield with a boss, showing the cross in the middle parts. And through the triple doors the screen opens to the priests. For on each side the skilful hand of the workman has made small doors.

The Ciborium.—“And above the all-holy table of gold rises in the air a tower (purgos) indescribable, reared on fourfold arches of silver. And it is borne aloft on silver columns, on whose tops every arch rests its silver feet. And above the arches rises a figure like a cone, yet it is not complete. For at the bottom its edge (antux) does not turn round in the circular form, but has an eight-sided base, and from a broad plan it gradually diminishes to a sharp point, having eight sides of silver. And at the juncture of each to other is, as it were, a long backbone (rachis) which seems to join with the triangular faces of the eight-sided form, and rises to a single crest, where is artfully wrought the form of a cup. And the edges of the cup bend over and assume the form of leaves, and in the midst of it has been placed a shining silver globe, and the cross surmounts it all. May it be an omen of peace! But above the arches many a curve of acanthus twines round the lower part of the cone, and the plant shows sharp projections which rise up from the groundwork like the fruit of a fragrant pear, glittering with light.

“Now where the fitted edges join the flat base are fixed and set bowls of silver. And in each cup stands as it were a candle, though it is a glittering symbol not made of wax, and beauty flashes from them and not light. For they are made round of silver, brightly polished. Thus the candle flashes a silver ray not the light of fire.

The Altar.—“And on columns of gold is raised the all gold slab[79] of the holy table, standing on gold foundations, and bright with the glitter of different stones.

“Whither am I carried? whither tends my unbridled speech? Let my voice be silent, and not lay bare what is not meet for the eyes of the people to see.

Altar Curtains.—“But, ye priests, as the sacred laws command you, spread out the curtain dipped in the red dye of the Sidonian shell and cover the sacred table. Unfold the veils (kaluptrai) hanging on the four sides of silver, and show to the countless crowd a multitude of beautiful designs in gold of skilful handiwork. On one side is cunningly wrought the form of Christ. And this was not worked by skilful hands plying the needle on the stuff, but by the web, the produce of the worm[80] from distant lands, changing its coloured threads of many shades. A garment shimmering with gold, like the rays of rosy-fingered dawn, flashes down to the divine knees, and a chiton, deep red from the Tyrian shell dye, covers the right shoulder beneath its well-woven web. The veiling upper robe has slipped away, and pulled up across the side it only covers the left shoulder, while the forearm and the hand are bare. He seems to point the fingers of the right hand, as if preaching the words of Life, and in the left hand He holds the book of the divine message,—the book that tells what the Messiah accomplished when his foot was on the earth. And the whole robe shines with gold; for on it a thin gold thread is led through the web, as if a fair chain was laid on the cloth in a groove or channel and bound with silken thread by sharp needles. And on either side stand the two messengers of God—Paul, full of divine wisdom, and also the mighty doorkeeper of the Gates of Heaven, binding with both heavenly and earthly chains. One holds the book pregnant with sacred words, and the other the form of a cross on a staff of gold. And both the cunning web has clothed in robes of silver white, and over their sacred heads rises upward a temple of gold, with triple apses fixed on four columns of gold.

“Now on the extreme borders of the curtain shot with gold, unspeakable art has figured the works of mercy of our city’s kings; here one sees hospitals for the sick, there sacred fanes, while on either side are displayed the miracles of Christ; such is the grace and beauty of the work.

“But on the other curtains you see the kings of the earth on one side with their hands joined to those of the Virgin, on the other side with those of Christ, and all is cunningly wrought by the threads of the woof with the sheen of a golden warp. Thus is everything adorned with splendour. Thus may you see all that fills the eyes with wonder.

The Lighting.—“No words can describe the light at night-time; one might say in truth that some midnight sun illumined the glories of the temple. For the wise forethought of our king has had stretched from the projecting rim (antux) of stone, on whose back is firmly planted the temple’s air-borne dome, long twisted chains (seirai) of beaten brass, linked in alternating curves with many windings. And these chains, bending down from every part in a long course, come together as they fall towards the ground. But before they reach the pavement, their path from above is checked, and they finish in unison on a circle.

“And beneath each chain he has caused to be fitted silver discs, hanging circle-wise in the air, round the space in the centre of the church. Thus these discs, pendent from their lofty courses, form a coronet above the heads of men. They have been pierced too by the weapon of the skilful workman, in order that they may receive shafts[81] of fire-wrought glass, and hold light on high for men at night.

“And not from discs alone does the light shine at night, but in the circles close by a disc you would see the symbol of the mighty cross, pierced with many holes, and in its pierced back shines a vessel of light. Thus hangs the circling chorus of bright lights. Verily you might say that you gazed on the bright constellation of the Heavenly Crown by the Great Bear, and the neighbouring Dragon.

“Thus through the temple wanders the evening light, brightly shining. In the middle of a larger circle you would find a crown with lightbearing rim; and above in the centre another noble disc spread its light in the air, so that night is compelled to flee.

“Near the aisles too, alongside the columns, they have hung in order single lamps (lampter) apart one from another; and through the whole length of the far-stretching nave is their path. Beneath each they have placed a silver vessel, like a balance pan, and in the centre of this rests a cup of well-burning oil.

“There is not however one equal level for all the lamps, for you may see some high, some low, in comely curves of light; and from twisted chains they sweetly flash in their aerial courses, even as shines twin-pointed Hyas fixed in the forehead of Taurus.

“One might also see ships of silver, bearing a flashing freight of flame, and plying their lofty courses in the liquid air instead of the sea, fearing no gale from south-west, nor from Boötes, sinking late to rest. And above the wide floor you would see shapely beams (with lamps), running between two-horned supports of iron, by whose light the orders of priests, bound by the rubrics, perform their duties.

“Some there are along the floor, where the columns have their bases, and above again others pass, by far-reaching courses, along the crowning work of the walls. Neither is the base of the deep-bosomed dome left without light, for along the projecting stone of the curved cornice the skilful workman suspends single lamps to bronze stakes. As when some handmaid binds round the neck of a royal virgin a graceful chain shining with the glitter of fiery gold; even so has our emperor fixed round all the cornice lights in circle-wise, companions everywhere to those below.

“There is also on the silver columns [of the Iconostasis], above their capitals, a narrow way of access for the lamp-lighter, glittering with bright clusters; these one might compare to the mountain-nourished pine, or cypress with fresh branches. From a point ever-widening circles spread down until the last is reached, even that which curves round the base; instead of a root, bowls of silver are placed beneath the trees, with their flaming flowers. And in the centre of this beauteous wood, the form of the divine cross, pierced with the prints of the nails, shines with light for mortal eyes.

“A thousand others within the temple show their gleaming light, hanging aloft by chains of many windings. Some are placed in the aisles, others in the centre or to east and West, or on the crowning walls, shedding the brightness of flame. Thus the night seems to flout the light of day, and be itself as rosy as the dawn. And whoever gazes on the lighted trees, with their crown of circles, feels his heart warmed with joy; and looking on a boat[82] swathed with fire, or some single lamp, or the symbol of the Divine Christ, all care vanishes from the mind. So with wayfarers through a cloudless night, as they see the stars rising from point to point; one watches sweet Hesperus, another’s attention is fixed on Taurus, and a third contemplates Boötes, or Orion and the cold Charles’ Wain; the whole heaven, scattered with glittering stars, opens before them, while the night seems to smile on their way.

“Thus through the spaces of the great church come rays of light, expelling clouds of care, and filling the mind with joy. The sacred light cheers all: even the sailor guiding his bark on the waves, leaving behind him the unfriendly billows of the raging Pontus, and winding a sinuous course amidst creeks and rocks, with heart fearful at the dangers of his nightly wanderings—perchance he has left the Ægean and guides his ship against adverse currents in the Hellespont, awaiting with taut forestay the onslaught of a storm from Africa—does not guide his laden vessel by the light of Cynosure, or the circling Bear, but by the divine light of the church itself. Yet not only does it guide the merchant at night, like the rays from the Pharos on the coast of Africa, but it also shows the way to the living God.”