Saint Peter’s Basilica is the most awe-inspiring church on the planet.
For many visitors, the first impression is almost overwhelming: galaxies of gilt and
marble, processing into sunlit majesty.
St. Peter’s is, quite simply, the most impressive building that Catholic piety could imagine
and sixteenth-century engineering could create.
But it isn’t just a Renaissance masterpiece.
The basilica was built on the remains of early Christianity’s greatest church, and with
materials taken from dozens of Roman ruins.
This hidden history is still visible – if you know where to look.
A good place to start is the obelisk in the center of St. Peter’s Square.
Originally, this gigantic granite monolith stood in Alexandria, where a Roman governor
of Egypt dedicated it to Augustus and Tiberius.
Caligula had it loaded onto a specially-constructed ship, and brought it across the Mediterranean
to Rome.
The barge that transported it, too large to be used for any conventional purpose, was
scuttled and filled with concrete to serve as a breakwater in Rome’s harbor.
The obelisk was brought up the Tiber by barge and rolled to the Vatican, then a sleepy suburb
known only for its mosquitos and low-grade vineyards.
The sole point of interest was the Circus of Nero, a chariot track used by the emperors
for their private amusement and occasional spectacles.
It was a typical Roman circus: long and narrow, with a stone barrier running down the center
of the track.
The obelisk was set up atop this barrier as a grandiloquent monument to imperial might.
It was moved to its current position, about 800 feet from its location on the barrier,
in 1586, an operation that involved 800 laborers, 140 horses, and 35 huge windlasses.
The process of raising the obelisk was so delicate that the pope decreed the death penalty
for anyone who distracted the workmen by talking, and had a gallows set up on St. Peter’s
square to drive the message home.
It was beside this obelisk, according to Catholic tradition, that the Apostle Peter was crucified
during the reign of Nero.
According to the same tradition, he was buried just north of Nero’s circus, in a cemetery
along the Via Cornelia.
In later years, this necropolis expanded, eventually engulfing the circus itself.
The fame of Peter’s tomb also grew; and sometime in the late second century, a small
monument was built on the site.
This memorial, buried beneath a millennium and a half of elaborations, still stands at
the heart of St. Peter’s Basilica.
Before we continue our journey into the basilica’s history, a word about our sponsor.
MyHeritage is a leading service for genealogical research, offering users access to DNA testing,
powerful tools for assembling family trees, and billions of historical records.
The coverage of these records is impressive.
When I searched for one of my grandfathers, for example, I immediately found his name
in the 1940 US census.
Besides facilitating research, MyHeritage makes it easy to build family trees.
Thanks to the smart match feature, you can search for ancestors you share with other
MyHeritage users, and find unknown relatives.
You can upload and digitally repair family photos, like this shot of my great-great grandparents.
You can even colorize black and white photos, revealing details like my great-great-grandfather’s
stylish blue pants.
You don’t need to know much about your family’s history to get started on MyHeritage, and
the possibilities for discovery are almost endless.
So if you’d like to explore all the features MyHeritage has to offer, click on the link
in the description for a free 14-day trial.
If you decide to continue your subscription, you’ll receive a 50% discount.
Returning to our topic, this is the main door of St. Peter’s Basilica, a masterpiece of
early Renaissance metalwork.
Like the marble columns on either side, it was salvaged from old St. Peter’s Basilica,
the greatest of all early Christian churches.
The first St. Peter’s Basilica was begun by Constantine in the years immediately following
his conversion to Christianity.
Never one to make small plans, the emperor decided that the tomb of the chief apostle
ought to be venerated in a suitably impressive church.
Building that church, however, wouldn’t be easy, since Peter’s tomb stood in the
middle of a crowded cemetery on the slopes of a steep hill.
Constantine’s builders levelled the site by digging away part of the hillside and dumping
the spoil over the cemetery, inadvertently preserving hundreds of tombs, which can now
be visited on the Vatican Scavi tour.
The church – which was, with its atrium, almost the size of the modern basilica – seems
to have been almost finished by Constantine’s death.
Rows of columns divided the interior into five aisles.
The tomb of Peter, now encased in marble, glittered at the end of the central nave.
Over the ensuing centuries, the aisles and atrium filled with dozens of chapels and hundreds
of tombs.
To the medieval pilgrims who came by the hundreds of thousands to see the relics of the Apostle,
the basilica must have looked and felt like a museum of sacred history.
But by the fifteenth century, the building was showing its age.
The walls leaned and cracked.
Debris fell from the ceiling during mass.
Scuttling hordes of rats nested in the wooden rafters.
It became increasingly obvious that the church was in need of a major renovation – or even
more drastic measures.
Nicholas V, elected in 1447, undertook major repairs, and was the first pope to consider
reconstructing the entire basilica.
But it was only in the first years of the sixteenth century, and under the auspices
of the fiercely energetic Julius II, that a new basilica was begun.
As its replacement rose, Constantine’s basilica was demolished.
The columns on either side of the modern door were rescued from the entrance of the old
church, as were dozens of other fragments, many of which had originated in even older
monuments.
Perhaps the most remarkable example of such re-use is the basilica’s baptismal font,
a piece of Egyptian porphyry that began as the lid of a Roman emperor’s sarcophagus.
The lid was taken from Hadrian’s Mausoleum in the tenth century, and incorporated into
the tomb of Holy Roman Emperor Otto II, who was buried in the atrium of old St. Peter’s.
When the atrium was demolished 600 years later, nobody had much use for Otto’s marble coffin,
which became a watering trough.
The porphyry lid was saved, however, though it had to be reassembled after workmen accidentally
dropped it.
The baptismal font, a pastiche of ancient stone recycled into a harmonious whole, is
emblematic of the church we see today.
The original design for the modern basilica was created by Donato Bramante, Julius II’s
architect, who imagined a perfectly symmetrical building crowned by a gargantuan dome.
Bramante’s centralized plan was maintained for decades, though modified by a succession
of new architects, including Michelangelo, who died just before starting the great dome.
The dome itself was built under Pope Sixtus V, who drove the project forward day and night
with alternating shifts of 800 laborers.
More than 100 years after construction began, the last parts of the old basilica were finally
pulled down.
After some controversy, it was decided that a long nave should be added.
Decoration of the interior continued through the middle of the seventeenth century, largely
under the direction of the Baroque genius Bernini.
Bernini was responsible for the altar in the central apse, an operatic composition centered
on a gilded seat.
Deep within is the ancient throne of St. Peter, a mostly disintegrated wooden chair that probably
dates back to late antiquity.
Bernini also produced two spectacular tombs for his papal patrons.
My personal favorite, pictured here, is the Tomb of Alexander VII, which features the
bronze figure of death emerging, hourglass in hand, from behind jasper drapery.
Bernini’s masterpiece, however, is the Baldacchino under the rotunda.
This is the largest cast bronze structure ever created – the columns alone weigh over
80,000 pounds – but its scale is in harmony with the rest of the interior, and allows
the Baldacchino to serve as a visual axis for the whole vast church, drawing every eye
to the papal altar and the tomb of Peter beneath.
Like almost everything else in the basilica, the Baldacchino is recycled.
Some of the metal in the great twisted columns may have come from the bronze beams of the
Pantheon’s porch, and the papal altar itself is a huge block of marble taken from a Roman
temple.
In front of the Baldacchino, marble steps lead down to the recessed area known as the
confessio.
Although everything visible today dates to the seventeenth century, the bronze cupboard
in the back wall conceals the Niche of the Pallia, a recess cut into the ancient monument
directly above the tomb of St. Peter.
This Baroque elaboration of a monument from the first centuries of Christianity encapsulates
the fascination of St. Peter’s Basilica, where two thousand years of history are hidden
in plain sight.
If you enjoyed this video, please consider supporting toldinstone on Patreon.
You might also enjoy my book, Naked Statues, Fat Gladiators, and War Elephants.
Thanks for watching.