No. 227 - THE PENNY MAGAZINE - Oct. 17, 1835
THE VATICAN.
THE Vatican, which is one of the seven hills of old Rome, has always retained its ancient name, and in the ages when the papal power was at its height, this name was almost as significant and imposing to the Christian world as that of Rome itself had been to the Pagan nations. The excommunications and anathemas--"the thunders of the Vatican"--made emperors and kings tremble on their thrones, and often shook Europe from one end to the other. Princes and people looked with equal awe to the ecclesiastical palace on the hill, where spiritual arms, with the cross, the signet-ring, and the pen, wielded by a few infirm old men, decided the fate of "powers and dominions." After a long waning, the mighty planet of the Vatican disappeared and became for every eclipsed, but still that immortal hill has a lasting hold on the veneration of mankind. The power of genius has survived the ecclesiastical power that most nobly patronised it. Michael Angelo and Raffaelle still reign there supremely, and as long as a touch of their pencils remains on the walls of that old palace, so long will the Vatican be dear to the civilized world. Let us also be just to the popes. The mild virtues--the patience under sufferings and wrongs--the truly Christian character of several of the later Roman pontiffs, may hallow their palace, and throw a melancholy yet pleasing interest over the walls wherein they dwelt in their feebleness, and where their predecessors revelled in their might.
Although, as we have said, the building itself has not much architectural beauty, its grand and capital accessory has a great deal. This is the staircase which forms the principal entrance, and connects the Vatican with the noble portico of St. Peter's. (See No. 108 of this Magazine.) It springs boldly from the base of the equestrian statue of Constantine, and in four majestic flights of marble steps, adorned with a double row of Ionic pillars, it reaches the threshold of the grand entrance-hall. It is the work of Bernini, and, taken altogether, it is probably the most magnificent staircase in the world. They call it "La Scala Regia," or the royal staircase, and the hall to which it leads "La Sala Regia," and royal works they are! The hall is of sublime length and elevation. It communicates by means of six large folding-doors with six other splendid apartments. Its walls are covered with frescoes painted chiefly by Vasari. Among his historical subjects are "The triumphant entrance of Gregory XI. into Rome, after the long stay of the popes at Avignon," and the execrable massacre of St. Bartholomew, which old Roman writers call "The defeat of the Hugonots." A better subject is the battle of Lepanto, painted by Taddo and Federico Zuccheri; but there is another subject that vividly recalls the days when the tiara was more than the imperial crown. It is the Emperor Frederic I. prostrate, and kissing the foot of the haughty pontiff Alexander III. This fresco is painted by Francesco Salviati.
One of the grand folding-doors in the Sala Regia gives access to the Cappella Paolina, or the Pualine Chapel, which was rebuilt by Paul III. Like the Sistine, this is rather a church than a chapel. The altar is supported by pillars of costly porphyry, and bears a tabernacle of rock-crystal. The walls are covered with paintings, but the general effect is dark and heavy. Towards the end of the hall, on the left, another door opens into the Cappella Sistina, which was built by Sixtus V. Here the sublime frescoes of Michael Angelo and his pupils thunder from the walls, and renew (while the astonished eye dwells upon them) some of the awe and terror that formerly attached to the Vatican. One end of the chapel is filled and crowded with the "Last Judgment," a vast and marvellous composition, which, spite of the criticisms of cold-blooded conoscenti, and the many faults it involves, will ever remain, like the poem of Dante, whence Michael Angelo drew a large portion of his inspiration, as one of the most sublime efforts of human genius. The smoke and dust of more than 300 years,--the sepulchral illuminations of the Passion week, when innumerable lamps and torches are burnt, and the lighter, but constantly renewed, vapours of the incense, have sadly blackened over these frescoes, but the compositions have been copied for centuries, the graver has multiplied them, and the best parts of the work cannot perish.
Opposite to the Cappella Sistina you enter the Sala Ducale, which is large and simple, and thence you can pass to the Loggie di Raffaello, which are a series of open galleries, in three stories, lining three sides of one of the spacious courts of the Vatican, called of San Damaso. Raffaello, and his scholars under his immediate superintendence, executed only a part of the frescoes on the walls of these galleries, but his tasteful creative mind traced the designs for all of them. The beautiful arabesques have suffered much from cold and damp. The history of the Bible from the creation of the world is painted on the arched ceilings of Raffaello's galleries. [Engraving - One of Raffaelle's Galleries in the Vatican] From one of these galleries a door opens into the Camere di Raffaello, which are covered with the frescoes of that greatest of masters. These rooms in themselves present a great and wonderful school of painting. They are totally unfurnished:--the cabinet-maker and the upholsterer had no business here;--the soul and hand of D'Urbino fills and beautifies them. Among the grand subjects he has treated in these chambers are 'Pope Leo and Attila,' the 'Judgment of Solomon,' the 'Coronation of Charlemagne,' and the glorious 'School of Athens.' We regret to add that here also the progress of decay is but too visible.
Crossing the court of San Damasco, and some chapels and halls which form the state apartments of the Vatican, the visiter comes to a vast well-lighted gallery, at one side of which an iron door admits him into the Vatican Library,--a magnificent range of building, covered with paintings throughout, and more than 1000 feet long. Several apartments branch off from this grand line: the Stanza de' Papiri, or room of manuscripts written on Egyptian papyrus before the introduction of paper, is covered with frescoes by Mengs. With a happy appropriateness, the designs, decorations, and marbles in this beautiful room are all in the Egyptian style. The books are not kept in open shelves, as with us, but shut up in cases, which, as a recent traveller smartly observes, may conceal a great deal of wealth or a great deal of poverty. The truth however is, that, notwithstanding the spoliations of the French during the last war, when many rare works were abstracted which were not returned at the peace (as they ought to have been), the Vatican is still one of the large libraries of Europe, containing about 350,000 printed volumes and upwards of 30,000 manuscripts. By the treaty of Tolentino, in which the Pope was obliged to accept the hard terms usually granted by a conquering and rapacious power to a weak and defenceless one, the French were allowed to make their choice of 500 of the rarest MSS. They actually took away a great many more, but left some of the most curious untouched. A rich collection of Oriental manuscripts remains, and the Vatican is rich in old-written copies and printed editions of the Classics, to say nothing of books and papers connected with church-history and ecclesiastical matters. It is supposed that its less-disturbed cases and chests contain many documents that would tend to throw a light over some parts of British history; and, judging from our own experience, we should not think it so difficult to get at these materials as it has been imagined *.
In some respects the administration of the library and the collection itself may excite surprise. Nearly all the works in the Catholic index, that were produced in the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth centuries, are here, and a few years ago it was not difficult to obtain the reading of them in this stronghold of popery. We have known more than one Italian who made his first acquaintance with the philosophers and profane historians of France and England within the sacred walls of the Vatican. A curiosity very attractive to English visiters, and which is readily shown, is a "Treatise on the Seven Sacraments,' which Henry VIII. sent to the Pope with the following orthodox distich:--
Not far from the library are the magnificent halls and galleries of the Belvedere, which name has been given to the only true, the only "glorious Apollo" (in sculpture)--the matchless Apollo di Belvedere. This far-extending museum is lined with marbles, paved with ancient and modern mosaics, and filled with statues, vases, candelabra, tombs, altars, medallions, and medals. Specimens of Egyptian, Etruscan, Grecian, and Roman antiquities, are all found here; and never surely was there a locale built by modern hands so worthy of being a lodging to these ancient gems and treasures.
In addition to the Belvedere Apollo, which, left by itself, ought to attract all lovers of pure ancient art, this museum enshrines the group of the Laocoon and the Antinous. The Laocoon and the Apollo have been engraved for our Magazine. (See Nos. 39 and 45.) Among the fine specimens of modern Italian sculpture, the Perseus and Creugas of Canova stand pre-eminent.
Beyond these spacious rooms is the Galleria de Quadri, or Picture Gallery. Here the collection, numerically considered, is not so large, but some of the master-pieces of painting glow on its walls. The Transfiguration by Raffaello, and the Saint Jerome by Domenichino, are such pictures as exist in no other place.
We have, of necessity, passed hastily over these treasures, because a simple list of them would occupy twenty times the space that we can spare, and because a catalogue would be neither instructive nor entertaining. For the same reasons we leave untouched many parts and compartments of the Vatican, in which the number of rooms, above ground and under-ground, is truly astonishing, although we must think (considering the enormous size of most) that the statement of their amounting to 1800 is rather an exaggeration. We have hear Romans say that there are 1100; but an amusing mistake occurs in the 'Diary of an Invalid,' a clever work written by the late Henry Mathews, wherein it is said that "the number of rooms contained in the Vatican amounts to 11,000." This mistake, which has been repeated in successive editions of a popular book, probably arose from the author's having dotted down an 0 too much in his original numericals.
The whole superficies covered by fine fresco painting must be prodigious. In many of the spacious apartments the ceiling is painted all over, and the walls covered down to the very floor, the works of genius or of the most refined taste occupying all those spaces which are filled in other palaces by wainscoting, cornices, hangings and tapestry.
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