"The fragments which are preserved of the painting which Giotto executed for the Church of St. Peter cannot fail to make us regret its loss. The fragments are treated with a grandeur of style which has led Rumohr to suspect that the susceptible imagination of Giotto was unable to resist the impression which the ancient mosaics of the Christian basilicas must have produced upon him."—Rio. Poetry of Christian Art.
Here also are several fragments of the frescoes (of angels and apostles), by Melozzo da Forlì, which existed in the former dome of the SS. Apostoli, and of which the finest portion is now at the Quirinal Palace. On the right is the Sagrestia dei Benefiziati, which contains a picture of the Saviour giving the keys to St. Peter, by Muziano, and an image called La Madonna della Febbre, which stood in the old Sacristy. Opening hence is the Treasury of St. Peter's, containing some ancient jewels, crucifixes, and candelabra, by Benvenuto Cellini and Michael Angelo, and, among other relics, the famous sacerdotal robe called the Dalmatica di Papa San Leone, "said to have been embroidered at Constantinople for the coronation of Charlemagne as Emperor of the West, but fixed by German criticism as a production of the twelfth, or the early part of the thirteenth century. The emperors, at least, have worn it ever since, while serving as deacons at the pope's altar during their coronation-mass."
"It is a large robe of stiff brocade, falling in broad and unbroken folds in front and behind,—broad and deep enough for the Goliath-like stature and the Herculean chest of Charlemagne himself. On the breast the Saviour is represented in glory, on the back the Transfiguration, and on the two shoulders Christ administering the Eucharist to the Apostles. In each of these last compositions, our Saviour, a stiff but majestic figure, stands behind the altar, on which are deposited a chalice and a paten or basket containing crossed wafers. He gives, in the one case, the cup to St. Paul, in the other the bread to St. Peter,—they do not kneel, but bend reverently to receive it; five other disciples await their turn in each instance,—all are standing.
"I do not apprehend your being disappointed with the Dalmatica di San Leone, or your dissenting from my conclusion, that a master, a Michael-Angelo I would almost say, then flourished at Byzantium.
"It was in this Dalmatica—then semée all over with pearls and glittering in freshness—that Cola di Rienzi robed himself over his armour in the sacristy of St. Peter's and thence ascended to the Palace of the Popes, after the manner of the Cæsars, with sounding trumpets and his horsemen following him—his truncheon in his hand and his crown on his head—'terribile e fantastico,' as his biographer describes him—to wait upon the Legate."—Lord Lindsay's Christian Art, i. 137.
Above the Sacristy are the Archives of St. Peter's, containing, among many other ancient MSS., a life of St. George, with miniatures, by Giotto. The entrance to the Archivio, at the end of the corridor, is adorned with fragments of the chains of the ports of Smyrna and Tunis. Here, also, is a statue of Pius VI., by Agostino Penna.
It is quite worth while to leave St. Peter's by the Porta Sta. Marta beneath the tomb of Alexander VII., in order to examine the exterior of the church from behind, where it completely dwarfs all the surrounding buildings. Among these are the Church of S. Stefano, with a fine door composed of antique fragments, and the dismal Church of Sta. Marta, which contains several of the Roman weights known as "Pietra di Paragone," said to have been used in the martyrdoms. Beyond the Sacristy is the pretty little Cimeterio dei Tedeschi, the oldest of Christian burial-grounds, said to have been set apart by Constantine, and filled with earth from Calvary. It was granted to the Germans in 1779, by Pius VI. Close by is the Church of Sta. Maria della Pietà in Campo Santo.
Not far from hence (in a street behind the nearest colonnade) is the Palazzo del Santo Uffizio—or of the Inquisition. This body, for some time past, suppressed everywhere except in the States of the Pope, was established here in 1536 by Paul III., acting on the advice of Cardinal Caraffa, afterwards Paul IV., for inquiry into cases of heresy, and the punishment of ecclesiastical offences. It was by the authority of the "Holy Office" that the "Index" of prohibited books was first drawn up. Paul IV., on his deathbed, summoned the cardinals to his side, and recommended to them this "Santissimo Tribunale," as he called it, and succeeding popes have protected and encouraged it. The character of the Inquisition has been much changed from that which it bore three hundred years ago; but even in late years, many cases of extreme severity have been reported,—especially one of a French bishop cruelly imprisoned for sixteen years in one of its dungeons (merely because he had received his consecration from a French constitutional prelate), and who was only released when its doors were opened in the revolution of 1848.
"Within these walls has been confined for many years a very extraordinary person—the archbishop of Memphis.... Pope Leo XII. received a letter from the Pacha of Egypt informing his Holiness, that he and a large portion of his subjects desired to be received into the bosom of the Church of Rome; and announcing that he and they were willing to conform, provided the pope would send out an archbishop, with a suitable train of ecclesiastics, and requesting that his Holiness would do him the favour of appointing a certain young student whom he named, the first archbishop of Memphis, and despatch him to Egypt. No doubt was entertained as to the truth of this communication, but an objection presented itself in the youth of the ecclesiastical student whom the Pacha wished to have as his archbishop. The pope consulted his cardinals, who advised him not to make the dangerous precedent of raising a novice to so high a rank in the Church, but his Holiness, tempted by the desire of converting a kingdom to Christianity, resolved to conform to the wishes of the Pacha, and did consecrate the youth archbishop of Memphis. The archbishop was sent out attended by a train of priests to Egypt. When the ship arrived, the authorities in Egypt declared the affair was an imposition. His Grace confessed the fraud, was arrested, and reconducted to Rome. He was the author of the letter which imposed on the pope—his original intention having been to confess to the pope as a priest, after his consecration, the imposition he had practised; and as the pope could not betray a secret imparted to him at the confessional, the offender might have obtained absolution, and escaped punishment. Whether this would have been practicable I know not; but it was not accomplished, and as the youth had the rank of archbishop indelibly imprinted on him, nothing remained but to confine his Grace for the remainder of his life; and accordingly he was confined to this prison near the Vatican, whence he may find it difficult to escape."—Whiteside's Italy, 1860.
The tribunal of the Inquisition was formally abolished by the Roman Assembly in February, 1849, but was re-established by Pius IX. in the following June. Its meetings, however, now take place in the Vatican, and the old palace of the Holy Office was long used as a barrack for French soldiers.
In the interior of the building is a lofty hall, with gloomy frescoes of Dominican saints,—and many terrible dungeons and cells in which the victim is unable to stand upright, having their vaulted ceilings lined with reeds, to deaden sound,—but all this is seldom seen. When the people rushed into the Inquisition at the revolution, a number of human bones were found in these vaults, which so excited the popular fury, that an attack on the Dominican convent at the Minerva was anticipated. Ardent defenders of the papacy maintain that these bones had been previously transported to the Inquisition from a cemetery, to get up a sensation.[341]
Built up into the back of this palace is the tribune of the Church of S. Salvatore in Torrione or in Macello, whose foundation is ascribed to Charlemagne (797). Senerano (Sette Chiese) supposes that the French had here their schola or special centre for worship and assemblage. The windows of this building are among the few examples of gothic in Rome, and there are good terra-cotta mouldings. It may best be seen from the Porta Cavalleggieri, which was designed by Sangallo, and derives its name from the cavalry barracks close by.
A short distance from the lower end of the Colonnade is the Church of S. Michaele in Sassia, whose handsome tower is a relic of the church founded by Leo IV., who built the walls of the Borgo, especially for funeral masses for the souls of those who fell in its defence against the Saracens. Raphael Mengs is buried in the modern church.
The name of this church commemorates the Saxon settlement "called Burgus Saxonum, Vicus Saxonum, Schola Saxonum, and simply Saxia or Sassia,"[342] founded c. 727 by Ina, king of Wessex, and enlarged in 794 by Offa, king of Mercia, when he made a pilgrimage to Rome in penance for the murder of Ethelbert, king of East-Anglia. Ina founded here a church, "Sta. Maria quæ vocatur Schola Saxorum," which is mentioned as late as 854. Dyer (Hist. of the City of Rome) says that "when Leo IV. enclosed this part of the city, it obtained the name of Borgo, from the Burgus Saxonum, and one of the gates was called Saxonum Posterula. The 'Schola Francorum' was also in the Borgo."
History of the Vatican Quarter and of the Palace—Scala Regia—Pauline Chapel—Sistine Chapel—Sala Ducale—Court of St. Damasus—Galleria Lapidaria—Braccio Nuovo—Museo Chiaramonti—The Belvedere—Gallery of Statues—Hall of Busts—Sala delle Muse—Sala Rotonda—Sala a Croce Greca—Galleria dei Candelabri—Galleria degli Arazzi—Library—Appartamenti Borgia—Etruscan Museum—Egyptian Museum—Gardens—Villa Pia—Loggie—Stanze—Chapel of S. Lorenzo—Gallery of Pictures.
THE hollow of the Janiculum between S. Onofrio and the Monte Mario is believed to have been a site of Etruscan divination.
Hence the name, which is now only used in regard to the papal palace and the basilica of St. Peter, but which was once applied to the whole district between the foot of the hill and the Tiber near S. Angelo.
Tacitus speaks of the unwholesome air of this quarter. In this district was the Circus of Caligula, adjoining the gardens of his mother Agrippina, decorated by the obelisk which now stands in the front of St. Peter's.[343] Here Seneca describes that while Caligula was walking by torchlight, he amused himself by the slaughter of a number of distinguished persons—senators and Roman ladies. Afterwards it became the Circus of Nero, who from his adjoining gardens used to watch the martyrdom of the Christians[344]—mentioned by Suetonius as "a race given up to a new and evil superstition"—and who used their living bodies, covered with pitch and set on fire, as torches for his nocturnal promenades.
The first residence of the popes at the Vatican was erected by St. Symmachus (A.D. 498—514) near the forecourt of the old St. Peter's, and here Charlemagne is believed to have resided on the occasion of his several visits to Rome during the reigns of Adrian I. (772—795) and Leo III. (795—816). This ancient palace having fallen into decay during the twelfth century, it was rebuilt in the thirteenth by Innocent III. It was greatly enlarged by Nicholas III. (1277—1281), but the Lateran continued to be the papal residence, and the Vatican palace was only used on state occasions, and for the reception of any foreign sovereigns visiting Rome. After the return of the popes from Avignon, the Lateran palace had fallen into decay, and for the sake of the greater security afforded by the vicinity of S. Angelo, it was determined to make the pontifical residence at the Vatican, and the first conclave was held there in 1378. In order to increase its security, John XXIII. constructed the covered passage to S. Angelo in 1410. Nicholas V. (1447—1455) had the idea of making it the most magnificent palace in the world, and of uniting in it all the government offices and dwellings of the cardinals, but died before he could do more than begin the work. The building which he commenced was finished by Alexander VI., and still exists under the name of Tor di Borgia. In 1473 Sixtus IV. built the Sistine Chapel, and in 1490 "the Belvedere" was erected as a separate garden-house by Innocent VIII. from designs of Antonio da Pollajuolo. Julius II., with the aid of Bramante, united this villa to the palace by means of one vast courtyard, and erected the Loggie around the Court of St. Damasus; he also laid the foundation of the Vatican Museum in the gardens of the Belvedere. The Loggie were completed by Leo X.; the Sala Regia and the Pauline Chapel were built by Paul III. Sixtus V. divided the great court of Bramante into two by the erection of the library, and began the present residence of the popes, which was finished by Clement VIII. (1592—1605). Urban VIII. built the Scala Regia; Clement XIV. and Pius VII., the Museo Pio-Clementino; Pius VII., the Braccio Nuovo; Leo XII., the picture-gallery; Gregory XVI., the Etruscan Museum; and Pius IX., the handsome staircase leading to the court of Bramante.
The length of the Vatican palace is 1151 English feet; its breadth, 767. It has eight grand staircases, twenty courts, and is said to contain 11,000 chambers of different sizes.
(The collections in the Vatican may be visited daily with an order and at fixed hours, except on Sundays and high festivals. Permission to make drawings must be obtained from the maggiordomo.)
The principal entrance of the Vatican is at the end of the right colonnade of St. Peter's. Hence a door on the right opens upon the staircase leading to the Cortile di S. Damaso, and is the nearest way to the collections of statues and pictures.
Following the great corridor, and passing on the left the entrance to the portico of St. Peter's, we reach the Scala Regia, a magnificent work of Bernini, formerly guarded by the picturesque Swiss soldiers. Hence we enter the Sala Regia, built in the reign of Paul III. by Antonio di Sangallo, and used as a hall of audience for ambassadors. It is decorated with frescoes illustrative of the history of the popes.
Entrance Wall:
Alliance of the Venetians with Paul V. against the Turks, and
Battle of Lepanto, 1571: Vasari.
Right Wall:
Absolution of the Emperor Henry IV., by Gregory VII.: Federigo
and Taddeo Zucchero.
Left Wall:
Massacre of St. Bartholomew: Vasari.
Opposite Wall, towards the Sala Regia:
Return of Gregory XI. from Avignon.
Benediction of Frederick Barbarossa by Alexander III., in the
Piazza of S. Marco: Giuseppe Porta.
On the right is the entrance of the Pauline Chapel (Cappella Paolina), also built (1540) by Antonio di Sangallo for Paul III. Its decorations are chiefly the work of Sabbatini and F. Zucchero, but it contains two frescoes by Michael Angelo.
"Two excellent frescoes, executed by Michael Angelo on the side walls of the Pauline Chapel, are little cared for, and are so much blackened by the smoke of lamps that they are seldom mentioned. The Crucifixion of St. Peter, under the large window, is in a most unfavourable light, but is distinguished for its grand, severe composition. That on the opposite wall—the Conversion of St. Paul—is still tolerably distinct. The long train of his soldiers is seen ascending in the background. Christ, surrounded by a host of angels, bursts upon his sight from the storm-flash. Paul lies stretched on the ground—a noble and finely-developed form. His followers fly on all sides, or are struck motionless by the thunder. The arrangement of the groups is excellent, and some of the single figures are very dignified; the composition has, moreover, a principle of order and repose, which, in comparison with the Last Judgment, places this picture in a very favourable light. If there are any traces of old age to be found in these works, they are at most discoverable in the execution of details."—Kugler, p. 308.
On the left of the approach from the Scala Regia is the Sistine Chapel (Cappella Sistina), built by Bacio Pintelli in 1473 for Sixtus IV. The lower part of the walls of this wonderful chapel was formerly hung on festivals with the tapestries executed from the cartoons of Raphael; the upper portion is decorated in fresco by the great Florentine masters of the fifteenth century.
"It was intended to represent scenes from the life of Moses on one side of the chapel, and from the life of Christ on the other, so that the old law might be confronted by the new,—the type by the typified."—Lanzi.
The following is the order of the frescoes, type and anti-type together:
Over the altar—now destroyed to make way for the Last Judgment:
On the pillars between the windows are the figures of twenty-eight popes, by Sandro Botticelli.
"Vasari says that the two works of Luca Signorelli surpass in beauty all those which surround them,—an assertion which is at least questionable as far as regards the frescoes of Perugino; but with respect to all the rest, the superiority of Signorelli is evident, even to the most inexperienced eye. The subject of the first picture is the journey of Moses and Zipporah into Egypt: the landscape is charming, although evidently ideal; there is great depth in the aërial perspective; and in the various groups scattered over the different parts of the picture there are female forms of such beauty, that they may have afforded models to Raphael. The same graceful treatment is also perceptible in the representation of the death of Moses, the mournful details of which have given scope to the poetical imagination of the artist. The varied group to whom Moses has just read the Law for the last time, the sorrow of Joshua, who is kneeling before the man of God, the charming landscape, with the river Jordan threading its way between the mountains, which are made singularly beautiful, as if to explain the regrets of Moses when the angel announces to him that he will not enter into the promised land—all form a series of melancholy scenes perfectly in harmony with one another, the only defect being that the whole is crowded into too small a space."—Rio. Poetry of Christian Art.
The avenue of pictures is a preparation for the surpassing grandeur of the ceiling:
"The ceiling of the Sistine Chapel contains the most perfect works done by Michael Angelo in his long and active life. Here his great spirit appears in its noblest dignity, in its highest purity; here the attention is not disturbed by that arbitrary display to which his great power not unfrequently seduced him in other works. The ceiling forms a flattened arch in its section; the central portion, which is a plain surface, contains a series of large and small pictures, representing the most important events recorded in the book of Genesis—the Creation and Fall of Man, with its immediate consequences. In the large triangular compartments at the springing of the vault, are sitting figures of the prophets and sibyls, as the foretellers of the coming of the Saviour. In the soffits of the recesses between these compartments, and in the arches underneath, immediately above the windows, are the ancestors of the Virgin, the series leading the mind directly to the Saviour. The external connection of these numerous representations is formed by an architectural framework of peculiar composition, which encloses the single subjects, tends to make the principal masses conspicuous, and gives to the whole an appearance of that solidity and support so necessary, but so seldom attended to, in soffit decorations, which may be considered as if suspended. A great number of figures are also connected with the framework; those in unimportant situations are executed in the colour of stone or bronze; in the more important, in natural colours. These serve to support the architectural forms, to fill up and to connect the whole. They may be best described as the living and embodied genii of architecture. It required the unlimited power of an architect, sculptor, and painter, to conceive a structural whole of so much grandeur, to design the decorative figures with the significant repose required by the sculpturesque character, and yet to preserve their subordination to the principal subjects, and to keep the latter in the proportions and relations best adapted to the space to be filled."—Kugler, p. 301.
The pictures from the Old Testament, beginning from the altar, are:
1. The Separation of Light and Darkness.
2. The Creation of the Sun and Moon.
3. The Creation of Trees and Plants.
4. The Creation of Adam.
5. The Creation of Eve.
6. The Fall and the Expulsion from Paradise.
7. The Sacrifice of Noah.
8. The Deluge.
9. The Intoxication of Noah.
"The scenes from Genesis are the most sublime representations of these subjects;—the Creating Spirit is unveiled before us. The peculiar type which the painter has here given of the form of the Almighty Father has been frequently imitated by his followers, and even by Raphael, but has been surpassed by none. Michael Angelo has represented him in majestic flight, sweeping through the air, surrounded by genii, partly supporting, partly borne along with him, covered by his floating drapery; they are the distinct syllables, the separate virtues of his creating word. In the first (large) compartment we see him with extended hands, assigning to the sun and moon their respective paths. In the second, he awakens the first man to life. Adam lies stretched on the verge of the earth, in the act of raising himself; the Creator touches him with the point of his finger, and appears thus to endow him with feeling and life. This picture displays a wonderful depth of thought in the composition, and the utmost elevation and majesty in the general treatment and execution. The third subject is not less important, representing the Fall of Man and his Expulsion from Paradise. The tree of knowledge stands in the midst, the serpent (the upper part of the body being that of a woman) is twined around the stem; she bends down towards the guilty pair, who are in the act of plucking the forbidden fruit. The figures are nobly graceful, particularly that of Eve. Close to the serpent hovers the angel with the sword, ready to drive the fallen beings out of Paradise. In this double action, this union of two separate moments, there is something peculiarly poetic and significant: it is guilt and punishment in one picture. The sudden and lightning-like appearance of the avenging angel behind the demon of darkness has a most impressive effect."—Kugler, p. 304.
"It was the seed of Eve that was to bruise the serpent's head. Hence it is that Michael Angelo made the Creation of Eve the central subject on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. He had the good taste to suggest, and yet to avoid, that literal rendering of the biblical story which in the ruder representations borders on the grotesque, and which Milton, with all his pomp of words, could scarcely idealise."—Mrs. Jameson, Hist. of Our Lord.
The lower portion of the ceiling is divided into triangles occupied by the Prophets and Sibyls in solemn contemplation, accompanied by angels and genii. Beginning from the left of the entrance, their order is,—
| 1. Jonah. | |
| 2. Jeremiah. | 7. Sibylla Libyca. |
| 3. Sibylla Persica. | 8. Daniel. |
| 4. Ezekiel. | 9. Sibylla Cumæa. |
| 5. Sibylla Erythræa. | 10. Isaiah. |
| 6. Joel. | 11. Sibylla Delphica. |
| 12. Zachariah. | |
"The prophets and sibyls in the triangular compartments of the curved portion of the ceiling are the largest figures in the whole work; these, too, are among the most wonderful forms that modern art has called into life. They are all represented seated, employed with books or rolled manuscripts; genii stand near, or behind them. These mighty beings sit before us pensive, meditative, inquiring, or looking upwards with inspired countenances. Their forms and movements, indicated by the grand lines and masses of the drapery, are majestic and dignified. We see in them beings, who, while they feel and bear the sorrows of a corrupt and sinful world, have power to look for consolation into the secrets of the future. Yet the greatest variety prevails in the attitudes and expression—each figure is full of individuality. Zacharias is an aged man, busied in calm and circumspect investigation; Jeremiah is bowed down absorbed in thought—the thought of deep and bitter grief; Ezekiel turns with hasty movement to the genius next to him, who points upwards, with joyful expectation, &c. The sibyls are equally characteristic: the Persian—a lofty, majestic woman, very aged; the Erythræan—full of power, like the warrior goddess of wisdom; the Delphic—like Cassandra, youthfully soft and graceful, but with strength to bear the awful seriousness of revelation."—Kugler, p. 304.
"The belief of the Roman Catholic Church in the testimony of the Sibyl is shown by the well-known hymn, said to have been composed by Pope Innocent III. at the close of the thirteenth century, beginning with the verse:—
It may be inferred that this hymn, admitted into the liturgy of the Roman Church, gave sanction to the adoption of the Sibyls into Christian art. They are seen from this time accompanying the prophets and apostles in the cyclical decorations of the church.... But the highest honour that art has rendered to the Sibyls has been by the hand of Michael Angelo, on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Here, in the conception of a mysterious order of women, placed above and without all considerations of the graceful or the individual, the great master was peculiarly in his element. They exactly fitted his standard of art, not always sympathetic, nor comprehensible to the average human mind, of which the grand in form and the abstract in expression, were the first and last conditions. In this respect, the Sibyls on the Sistine Chapel ceiling are more Michael Angelesque than their companions the Prophets. For these, while types of the highest monumental treatment, are yet men, while the Sibyls belong to a distinct class of beings, who convey the impression of the very obscurity in which their history is wrapt—creatures who have lived far from the abodes of men, who are alike devoid of the expression of feminine sweetness, human sympathy, or sacramental beauty; who are neither Christians nor Jewesses, Witches nor Graces, yet living, grand, beautiful, and true, according to laws revealed to the great Florentine genius only. Thus their figures may be said to be unique, as the offspring of a peculiar sympathy between the master's mind and his subject. To this sympathy may be ascribed the prominence and size given them—both Prophets and Sibyls—as compared to their usual relation to the subjects they environ. They sit here in twelve throne-like niches, more like presiding deities, each wrapt in self-contemplation, than as tributary witnesses to the truth and omnipotence of Him they are intended to announce. Thus they form a gigantic framework round the subjects of the Creation, of which the birth of Eve, as the type of the Nativity, is the intentional centre. For some reason, the twelve figures are not Prophets and Sibyls alternately—there being only five Sibyls to seven Prophets—so that the Prophets come together at one angle. Books and scrolls are given indiscriminately to them.
"The Sibylla Persica, supposed to be the oldest of the sisterhood, holds the book close to her eyes, as if from dimness of sight, which fact, contradicted as it is by a frame of obviously Herculean strength, gives a mysterious intentness to the action.
"The Sibylla Libyca, of equally powerful proportions, but less closely draped, is grandly wringing herself to lift a massive volume from a height above her head on to her knees.
"The Sibylla Cumana, also aged, and with her head covered, is reading with her volume at a distance from her eyes.
"The Sibylla Delphica, with waving hair escaping from her turban, is a beautiful young being—the most human of all—gazing into vacancy or futurity. She holds a scroll.
"The Sibylla Erythræa, grand bare-headed creature, sits reading intently with crossed legs, about to turn over her book.
"The Prophets are equally grand in structure, and though, as we have said, not more than men, yet they are the only men that could well bear the juxtaposition with their stupendous female colleagues. Ezekiel, between Erythræa and Persica, has a scroll in his hand that hangs by his side, just cast down, as he turns eagerly to listen to some voice.
"Jeremiah, a magnificent figure, sits with elbow on knee, and head on hand, wrapt in the meditation appropriate to one called to utter lamentation and woe. He has neither book nor scroll.
"Jonah is also without either. His position is strained and ungraceful—looking upwards, and apparently remonstrating with the Almighty upon the destruction of the gourd, a few leaves of which are seen above him. His hands are placed together with a strange and trivial action, supposed to denote the counting on his fingers the number of days he was in the fish's belly. A formless marine monster is seen at his side.
"Daniel has a book on his lap, with one hand on it. He is young, and a piece of lion's skin seems to allude to his history."—Lady Eastlake, Hist. of Our Lord, i. 248.
In the recesses between the prophets and sibyls are a series of lovely family groups representing the Genealogy of the Virgin, and expressive of calm expectation of the future. The four corners of the ceiling contain groups illustrative of the power of the Lord displayed in the especial deliverances of his chosen people.
Near the altar are:
Right.—The deliverance of the Israelites by the brazen serpent.
Left.—The execution of Haman.
Near the entrance are:
Right.—Judith and Holofernes.
Left.—David and Goliath.
It was when Michael Angelo was already in his sixtieth year that Clement VII. formed the idea of effacing the three pictures of Perugino at the end of the chapel, and employing him to paint the vast fresco of The Last Judgment in their place. It occupied the artist for seven years, and was finished in 1541 when Paul III. was on the throne. To induce him to pursue his work with application, Paul III. went himself to his house attended by ten cardinals; "an honour," says Lanzi, "unique in the annals of art." The pope wished that the picture should be painted in oil, to which he was persuaded by Sebastian del Piombo, but Michael Angelo refused to employ anything but fresco, saying that oil-painting was work for women and for idle and lazy persons.
"In the upper half of the picture we see the Judge of the world, surrounded by the apostles and patriarchs; beyond these, on one side, are the martyrs; on the other, the saints, and a numerous host of the blessed. Above, under the two arches of the vault, two groups of angels bear the instruments of the passion. Below the Saviour another group of angels holding the book of life sound the trumpets to awaken the dead. On the right is represented the resurrection; and higher, the ascension of the blessed. On the left, hell, and the fall of the condemned, who audaciously strive to press to heaven.
"The day of wrath ('dies iræ') is before us—the day, of which the old hymn says,—
The Judge turns in wrath towards the condemned and raises his right hand, with an expression of rejection and condemnation; beside him the Virgin veils herself with her drapery, and turns, with a countenance full of anguish, toward the blessed. The martyrs, on the left, hold up the instruments and proofs of their martyrdom, in accusation of those who had occasioned their temporal death: these the avenging angels drive from the gates of heaven, and fulfil the sentence pronounced against them. Trembling and anxious, the dead rise slowly, as if still fettered by the weight of an earthly nature; the pardoned ascend to the blessed; a mysterious horror pervades even their hosts—no joy, nor peace, nor blessedness, are to be found here.
"It must be admitted that the artist has laid a stress on this view of his subject, and this has produced an unfavourable effect upon the upper half of his picture. We look in vain for the glory of heaven, for beings who bear the stamp of divine holiness, and renunciation of human weakness; everywhere we meet with the expression of human passion, of human efforts. We see no choir of solemn, tranquil forms, no harmonious unity of clear, grand lines, produced by ideal draperies; instead of these, we find a confused crowd of the most varied movements, naked bodies in violent attitudes, unaccompanied by any of the characteristics made sacred by holy tradition. Christ, the principal figure of the whole, wants every attribute but that of the Judge: no expression of divine majesty reminds us that it is the Saviour who exercises this office. The upper part of the composition is in many parts heavy, notwithstanding the masterly boldness of the drawing; confused, in spite of the separation of the principal and accessory groups; capricious, notwithstanding a grand arrangement of the whole. But, granting for a moment that these defects exist, still this upper portion, as a whole, has a very impressive effect, and, at the great distance from which it is seen, some of the defects alluded to are less offensive to the eye. The lower half deserves the highest praise. In these groups, from the languid resuscitation and upraising of the pardoned, to the despair of the condemned, every variety of expression, anxiety, anguish, rage, and despair, is powerfully delineated. In the convulsive struggles of the condemned with the evil demons, the most passionate energy displays itself, and the extraordinary skill of the artist here finds its most appropriate exercise. A peculiar tragic grandeur pervades alike the beings who are given up to despair and their hellish tormentors. The representation of all that is fearful, far from being repulsive, is thus invested with that true moral dignity which is so essential a condition in the higher aims of art."—Kugler, p. 308.
"The Last Judgment is now more valuable as a school of design than as a fine painting, and it will be sought more for the study of the artist, than the delight of the amateur. Beautiful it is not—but it is sublime;—sublime in conception, and astonishing in execution. Still, I believe, there are few who do not feel that it is a labour rather than a pleasure to look at it. Its blackened surface—its dark and dingy sameness of colouring—the obscurity which hangs over it—the confusion and multitude of naked figures which compose it—their unnatural position, suspended in the air, and the sameness of form and attitude, confound and bewilder the senses. These were, perhaps, defects inseparable from the subject, although it was one admirably calculated to call forth the powers of Michael Angelo. To merit in colouring it has confessedly no pretensions, and I think it is also deficient in expression—that in the conflicting passions, hopes, fears, remorse, despair, and transport, that must agitate the breasts of so many thousands in that awful moment, there was room for powerful expression which we do not see here. But it is faded and defaced; the touches of immortal genius are lost for ever; and from what it is, we can form but a faint idea of what it was. Its defects daily become more glaring—its beauties vanish; and, could the spirit of its great author behold the mighty work upon which he spent the unremitting labour of seven years, with what grief and mortification would he gaze upon it now.
"It may be fanciful, but it seems to me that in this, and in every other of Michael Angelo's works, you may see that the ideas, beauties, and peculiar excellences of statuary, were ever present to his mind; that they are the conceptions of a sculptor embodied in painting.
" ...St. Catharine, in a green gown, and somebody else in a blue one, are supremely hideous. Paul IV., in an unfortunate fit of prudery, was seized with the resolution of whitewashing over the whole of the Last Judgment, in order to cover the scandal of a few naked female figures. With difficulty was he prevented from utterly destroying the grandest painting in the world, but he could not be dissuaded from ordering these poor women to be clothed in this unbecoming drapery. Daniele da Volterra, whom he employed in this office (in the lifetime of Michael Angelo), received, in consequence, the name of Il Braghettone (the breeches-maker)."—Eaton's Rome.
Michael Angelo avenged himself upon Messer Biagio da Cesena, master of the ceremonies, who first suggested the indelicacy of the naked figures to the pope, by introducing him in hell, as Midas, with ass's ears. When Cesena begged Paul IV. to cause this figure to be obliterated, the pope sarcastically replied, "I might have released you from purgatory, but over hell I have no power."
"Michel-Ange est extraordinaire, tandis qu'Orcagna[345] est religieux. Leurs compositions se résument dans les deux Christs qui jugent. L'un est un bourreau qui foudroie, l'autre est un monarque qui condamne en montrant la plaie sacrée de son côté pour justifier sa sentence."—Cartier, Vie du Père Angelico.
"The Apostles in Michael Angelo's Last Judgment stand on each side of the Saviour, who is not, here, Saviour and Redeemer, but inexorable Judge. They are grandly and artificially grouped, all without any drapery whatever, with forms and attitudes which recall an assemblage of Titans holding a council of war, rather than the glorified companions of Christ."—Jameson's Sacred and Legendary Art, i. 179.
The Sistine Chapel is associated in the minds of all Roman sojourners with the great ceremonies of the Church, but especially with the Miserere of Passion Week.
"On Wednesday afternoon began the Miserere in the Sistine Chapel.... The old cardinals entered in their magnificent violet-coloured velvet cloaks, with their white ermine capes; and seated themselves side by side, in a great half-circle, within the barrier, whilst the priests who had carried their trains seated themselves at their feet. By the little side door of the altar the holy father now entered in his purple mantle and silver tiara. He ascended his throne. Bishops swung the vessels of incense around him, whilst young priests, in scarlet vestments, knelt, with lighted torches in their hands, before him and the high altar.
"The reading of the lessons began.[346] But it was impossible to keep the eyes fixed on the lifeless letters of the missal—they raised themselves, with the thoughts, to the vast universe which Michael Angelo had breathed forth in colours upon the ceiling and the walls. I contemplated his mighty sibyls and wondrously glorious prophets, every one of them a subject for a painting. My eyes drank in the magnificent processions, the beautiful groups of angels; they were not to me painted pictures, all stood living before me. The rich tree of knowledge, from which Eve gave the fruit to Adam: the Almighty God, who floated over the waters, not borne up by angels, as the older masters had represented him—no, the company of angels rested upon him and his fluttering garments. It is true I had seen these pictures before, but never as now had they seized upon me. My excited state of mind, the crowd of people, perhaps even the lyric of my thoughts, made me wonderfully alive to poetical impressions; and many a poet's heart has felt as mine did!
"The bold foreshortenings, the determinate force with which every figure steps forward, is amazing, and carries one quite away! It is a spiritual Sermon on the Mount in colour and form. Like Raphael, we stand in astonishment before the power of Michael Angelo. Every prophet is a Moses like that which he formed in marble. What giant forms are those which seize upon our eye and our thoughts as we enter! But, when intoxicated with this view, let us turn our eyes to the background of the chapel, whose whole wall is a high altar of art and thought. The great chaotic picture, from the floor to the roof, shows itself there like a jewel, of which all the rest is only the setting. We see there the Last Judgment.
"Christ stands in judgment upon the clouds, and the apostles and his mother stretch forth their hands beseeching for the poor human race. The dead raise the gravestones under which they have lain; blessed spirits float upwards, adoring, to God, whilst the abyss seizes its victims. Here one of the ascending spirits seeks to save his condemned brother, whom the abyss already embraces in its snaky folds. The children of despair strike their clenched fists upon their brows and sink into the depths! In bold foreshortening, float and tumble whole legions between heaven and earth. The sympathy of the angels; the expression of lovers who meet; the child that, at the sound of the trumpet, clings to the mother's breast, is so natural and beautiful, that one believes oneself to be among those who are waiting for judgment. Michael Angelo has expressed in colours what Dante saw and has sung to the generations of the earth.
"The descending sun, at that moment, threw his last beams in through the uppermost windows. Christ, and the blessed around him, were strongly lighted up; whilst the lower part, where the dead arose, and the demons thrust their boat, laden with damned, from shore, were almost in darkness.
"Just as the sun went down the last Psalm was ended, and the last light which now remained was extinguished, and the whole picture-world vanished in the gloom from before me; but, in that same moment, burst forth music and singing. That which colour had bodily revealed arose now in sound: the day of judgment, with its despair and its exultation, resounded above us.
"The father of the Church, stripped of his papal pomp, stood before the altar, and prayed to the holy cross; and upon the wings of the trumpet resounded the trembling quire, 'Populus meus, quid feci tibi!' Soft angel notes rose above the deep song, tones which ascended not from a human breast: it was not a man's nor a woman's: it belonged to the world of spirits: it was like the weeping of angels dissolved in melody."'—Anderson's Improvisatore.
"Le Miserere, c'est-à-dire, ayez pitié de nous, est un psaume composé de versets qui se chantent alternativement d'une manière très-différente. Tour-à-tour une musique céleste se fait entendre, et le verset suivant, dit en récitatif, et murmuré d'un ton sourd et presque rauque, on dirait que c'est la réponse des caractères durs aux cœurs sensibles, que c'est le réel de la vie qui vient flétrir et repousser les vœux des âmes généreuses; et quand le chœur si doux reprend, on renaît à l'espérance; mais lorsque le verset récité recommence, une sensation de froid saisit de nouveau; ce n'est pas la terreur qui la cause, mais le découragement de l'enthousiasme. Enfin le dernier morceau, plus noble et plus touchant encore que tous les autres, laisse au fond de l'âme une impression douce et pure: Dieu nous accorde cette même impression avant de mourir.
"On éteint les flambeaux; la nuit s'avance; les figures des prophètes et des sibylles apparaissent comme des fantômes enveloppés du crépuscule. Le silence est profond, la parole ferait un mal insupportable dans cet état de l'âme, où tout est intime et intérieur; et quand le dernier son s'éteint, chacun s'en va lentement et sans bruit; chacun semble craindre de rentrer dans les intérêts vulgaires de ce monde."—Mad. de Staël.
Opposite the Sistine Chapel is the entrance of the Sala Ducale, in which the popes formerly gave audience to foreign princes, and which is now used for the consistories for the admission of cardinals to the sacred college. Its decorations were chiefly executed by Bernini for Alexander VII. The landscapes are by Brill. This hall is used as a passage to the Loggie of Bramante.
The small portion of the Vatican inhabited by the pope is never seen except by those who are admitted to a special audience. The rooms of the aged pontiff are furnished with a simplicity which would be inconceivable in the abode of any other sovereign prince. It is a lonely life, as the dread of an accusation of nepotism has prevented any of the later popes from having any of their family with them, and etiquette always obliges them to dine, &c., alone. No one, whatever the difference of creed, can look upon this building inhabited by the venerable old men who have borne so important a part in the history of Christianity and of Europe, without the deepest interest.