lofty apse is a colossal figure of Christ, distinctly of the Arab type of face, enveloped in a blue robe, showing an underneath garment of red embroidered with gold. In His right hand an open book, with the words, in Greek, "I am the Light of the world, whoso follows Me shall not walk in darkness." On one side of the chancel there is a magnificent pierced marble throne for the King, on the other side a similar throne for the Bishop. This is significant of the masterful character of those Norman kings. Church and State each with Divine authority. The first Norman king, Roger, had by way of legend on his coins, "Rex divina favente Clementia"—king by the favour of Divine mercy. So, too, his English kinsmen claimed to be "Reges Dei Gratia"—Kings by the Grace of God.
Being anxious to get good photographs of the interior, I persuaded the sacristan who came to close the church for the mid-day interval to let me remain inside. From behind a pillar I saw a side-door open, and several ecclesiastics enter. One ascended the pulpit, the others sitting and listening to his sermon. Every now and then they interrupted him, with criticism or applause, and various hints as to delivery. He was, I heard, in training for a series of Lenten sermons. As a rule, Italians are content with a few sermons on special occasions, and preachers are always carefully chosen. They are keen critics. I couldn't help contrasting this plan of preparation with our haphazard way of expecting every deacon and priest to be able to preach without training. But what will you? It is only here and there that our people care to come to a service if there is no sermon. They come, no doubt, to pray, but their first motive is to listen. With all their faults, the Italians put worship first.
