J. Hawksworth, Sculp.
Doorway of the Cathedral at Monreale
London Published by J & A. Arch Cornhill March 1st. 1828
Having been able on the 10th to ascertain that the packet would not depart before the 14th, I determined to employ the interval in seeing the cathedral of Cefalù, built by Roger, the first Norman king of Sicily, in 1146, in consequence of a vow, when he was in danger of shipwreck.
The chief roads, for the distance of from twenty to thirty miles from Palermo, are carriageable, a circumstance which is spoken of with great admiration in Sicily; and a sort of stage goes every day to Termini, which is twenty-three English miles from Palermo. The journey was performed without changing horses in about three hours and a half. We set out a little before four. The road is very pleasant, passing mostly along the shore, except where it crosses the isthmus on which Bagaria is seated. It is in excellent order, and must have been made at considerable expense, for in one place the rock is cut down to the depth of thirty or forty feet to admit it.
I found that two of my companions in this stage were going to Cefalù as well as myself, and I put myself under their guidance. They would not proceed at night, because we had to pass over a well watered plain, producing abundance of rice, but infamous for mal aria. I was therefore conducted to a little inn (perhaps there was no better in the place), and we engaged horses at eleven tarì each to take us to our destination (about twenty-two miles), fixing our time of departure at half-past two in the morning. It was not very punctually adhered to, but we set off at half-past three, which I thought quite early enough, for it was still dark, and reached Cefalù in five hours and a half. The road still follows the shore, but during the latter part of the way, it passes through a delightful country, among vineyards and olive-grounds, with the sea glittering through every opening, and the fine promontories which bound the gulf of Termini occasionally showing themselves. Fine, woody mountains rise gradually from the shore, becoming more abrupt in their upper parts, and presenting here and there a magnificent cliff: behind these, but not in view from Cefalù itself, are the mountains of the Madonnia, a vast mass, which is said to consist of limestone.
The zigzag mouldings, cut billets, and deficiency of mosaics in the essential parts of the architecture, give to the Cathedral more appearance of the Norman style, than is exhibited in that of Palermo. Some of the ornamental arches are acutely pointed, while on the other hand, the principal doorway has a decidedly horse-shoe arch without a point.
Near the cathedral is a building called the House of Roger, which though nearly similar in style, is perhaps somewhat later in date. In the windows three small arches are included in one larger, and all are pointed, and spring on the same line, like those of the upper story of the aisles at Nôtre Dame at Paris.
The old city of Cefalù was upon the hill before Roger founded his cathedral near the shore, but this seems to have drawn down the town into its own neighbourhood. My landlord gave me a sketch of the history of the place. First were the worshippers of idols. Then the Catholics. Then, long before the Saracens, came Diana, whose house may still be seen at the top of the hill. I thought at first this had been the goddess Diana, but I found afterwards that she went to France and married the king’s son. I could not learn who came between her and the Saracens. The latter were driven out by Roger. This house of Diana, at least I believe the fragment which I visited to be what the landlord intended, though my guide said it was the old cathedral, is a very curious structure. It is of Cyclopean masonry, with two rooms and a passage between them: it exhibits three doorways, and appears to have been a dwellinghouse, and if so, is probably quite unique. We have city-walls and terrace-walls of this construction, and a temple at Rhamnus, but no other buildings that I know of anywhere else.