But for now, the only sound echoing through the hallways is the distant rattle of metal on wood, as Gianni Crea — the Vatican’s keeper of the keys — methodically unlocks the doors to over 300 of the museums’ 1,200+ rooms. I’m here courtesy of IC Bellagio — a luxury travel company specialising in bespoke Italian experiences — for an incredibly special early morning visit that begins with breakfast in the 16th century Pinecone Courtyard. My host is the charming Antonella Simonini, one of Rome’s top guides, who starts by sharing a whistle-stop overview of the Vatican’s colourful history as we stroll with our coffee in the shade of the umbrella pines. Sited on a hill above the banks of the River Tiber, the Vatican City has been the spiritual home of the Roman Catholic Church since the 4th Century AD, when a basilica was built over the grave of St. Peter. During the centuries that followed, the area developed into a popular pilgrimage site and commercial district, and as home to the popes, it sat at the heart of the papal fiefdom that ruled much of central Italy until the nation’s unification in 1861.
Today, the Vatican can lay claim to being the smallest country in the world, thanks to a treaty that was signed by Mussolini in 1929, declaring it an independent city-state governed by the pontiff. Encircled by a 2-mile border with Italy, the country spans an area of just over 100 acres (around a third of the size of Hyde Park), and although it receives around 5.5 million visitors every year, the Vatican’s population consists of just under 1000 citizens. As we wander through the beautifully manicured Square Garden, Antonella continues to furnish me with facts about life in the country. According to statistics released by the Wine Institute, the Vatican is one of the world’s largest consumers of wine — presumably due to the frequency of Holy Communion. Along with its wealth of historic sites, the country maintains its own post office, bank and telephone system, as well as the world’s smallest rail network. Its radio station broadcasts in 20 languages around the globe, and its cash machines allow users to perform transactions in Latin. This is apparently just one example of the Holy See’s determination to keep the language alive; a few years ago, the Vatican’s Latin Foundation released an updated Latin dictionary including the terms “dishwasher” (escariorum lavatory) and “rush hour” (tempus maximae frequentiae). Mindful of the Vatican’s own impending tourist traffic jams, we hurry over to a door where our very own Vatican guard is waiting patiently to escort us inside the museums.
Originally built during the time of Pope Nicholas III (1277-1280), the Vatican Palace was enlarged in the 15th, 16th and 17th centuries — the result of a long series of additions and modifications through which the popes aimed to rival each other in magnificence. From the mid-18th century onwards, papal efforts were also directed into developing the Vatican’s collection of antiquities, and during this period the Palace began welcoming scholars and connoisseurs who wished to visit its holdings. Covering a staggering 9 miles, the museums house approximately 70,000 works — only 20,000 of which are on display to the general public, as many areas are usually “off-limits.” One such room, which our guard reverently ushers us into, is the jewel-like Niccoline Chapel, decorated from floor to ceiling with frescoes by the 15th century Dominican Fra Angelico, and embellished with gold brought back from the New World by Christopher Columbus. Another remarkable sight is the 16th century Bramante Staircase; a revolutionary spiral staircase shaped like a double-helix (built centuries before DNA was discovered), with flat, ramp-like steps designed to accommodate horses carrying large items back and forth from the Papal Palaces. Back in the main body of the museums, we pass countless treasures that draw crowds from all corners of the globe, including the muscular Belvedere Torso and the ancient statue of Laocoön and His Sons. Other astonishing antiquities include Emperor Nero’s 25-foot wide porphyry bathtub (today estimated to be valued at around €2 billion), and the Apollo Belvedere, regarded by many as the epitome of classical beauty. One of my favourite rooms is the Gallery of Maps; a 120-metre long corridor frescoed with topographical views of Italy, based on drawings by the 16th century friar and geographer Ignazio Danti. But the undoubted pinnacle of any Vatican visit is, of course, the moment we step into the Sistine Chapel — totally empty this morning except for a cleaner sweeping away yesterday’s discarded metro tickets.
During official opening hours, this extraordinary space is packed with hundreds of awe-struck visitors, craning their necks as they stare up at the ceiling 21 metres overhead. Talking in the chapel is usually prohibited, but while we have the space to ourselves, Antonella takes the opportunity to share a few insights into the history of this iconic site. Built in 1473 at the behest of Pope Sixtus IV, the chapel was reputedly designed to echo the dimensions of Solomon’s temple in Jerusalem. In its early years, the ceiling was decorated as a simple blue sky with stars; it wasn’t until 1503 when Pope Julius II ascended the throne that Michelangelo was commanded to repaint it with his now world-famous fresco cycle. A fiery, arrogant man with a notorious temper, Michelangelo originally balked at the commission, considering himself a sculptor and architect rather than a lowly painter. Eventually forced to begin the project in 1508, he spent the next four years working from a wooden scaffold sixty feet in the air, complaining continuously about the job in letters to friends and family. In one poem he wrote, “My stomach’s squashed under my chin, my beard’s pointing at heaven, my brain’s crushed in a casket, my breast twists like a harpy’s. My brush, above me all the time, dribbles paint so my face makes a fine floor for droppings!… I am not in the right place — I am not a painter.” Gazing up at what many consider to be the number one masterpiece of Western Art, I beg to differ.
