Some houses are very grand. I've seen them in books and Shelley's copies of World of Interiors. There are lots of neat houses in Santa Barbara, cool houses in California in general. Some fancy ones have been made into museums like Hearst Castle.
Palazzo Massimo is really still a house. It sits on a prominent stretch of Corso VE II and has a history that I can't even begin to describe. I stood in line, waiting for the doors to open. It was not yet ten o'clock. Several clergy came to the gate and were admitted immediately. A taxi arrived with three well-dressed personages, who were clearly invited, not simply gawkers like the rest of the crowd.
Sometimes it is easy to forget that the huge Renaissance palaces, with their immense facades and seemingly impenetrable walls, almost always open directly into a sun-filled courtyard. This courtyard has a fountain, some greenery, and in the case of Palazzo Massimo, several cats. It was a small, intimate courtyard with silly little garden pots of uninteresting plants, the kind that people keep without knowing why.
The staircase and landing were open to the courtyard for at least four storeys. But when one is allowed to enter such a house, given the circumstances, it is hard to know where to go, how far to go, and how to stay as long as possible without being intrusive. The corner staircase, the cold grey stone, the tiny double doors that were thickened with years of paint; they captivated me and I almost didn't want to ascend to the next storey.
On the third floor, the hall wasn't open to the courtyard air but was windowed and paneled in wood. The floors were polished wood and decadently trimmed. Sofas, which were really divans, were striped in heavy silk or silk velvet. Oil paintings and sculpture, both Classical and Contemporary, filled the rooms. I walked through, conscious that I didn't belong in this world, my bookbag over my arm. Two girls about 11 or so, twirled around one of the salons as their nanny watched. These girls were obviously used to the annual intrusion of strangers and took absolutely no notice. It was as if we weren't even there. We were simply traipsing through their living room.
Up the stairs was the chapel. I've been instructed not to call it a chapel, but I don't know another way to describe a church in someone's house. The walls of the anteroom were tromp l'oeil to look like sumptuous curtains with medallions and rosettes. The paint had worn through to the plaster in many places, giving that nonchalant air to a grand house that could otherwise have been pompous and austere...I mean really, it has it's own chapel. The chairs in the anteroom looked as though they were from the Renaissance as well. Worn linen velvet, faded into pinks, high-backed, and undoubtedly uncomfortable, even if they didn't break if sat upon. This anteroom was separated from the chapel only in this aesthetic regard. The ceiling of the chapel was gold mosaic. Marble columns trimmed the red velvet walls. The inlaid marble floor was carpeted. Candles were lit and two separate services in this tiny space were being performed, and I do mean performed. This was clearly an occasion and there were literally clergy waiting their turn.
Costumed footmen ushered the distinguished guests from the taxi into a side room where I was able to just briefly glimpse a reception. The cognoscenti were sipping flutes of prosecco whilst a string ensemble played softly enough to keep the hush of the house intact.
I wanted to stay, to drink it all in. I am not the least bit Catholic and somehow I am mesmerized by the decadence, the pageantry, the excess and the ritual that is now so ingrained in the idea of this religion. I left, reluctantly, knowing at the very least that I had never seen anything like it before. This was one of those days, those priceless days that make me think, "So this is what it's like to live in Rome..."
Since no photography was allowed, you'll have to make do with the few (very few) links I was able to find. Remember, if you are ever in Rome on March 16th, you are to make this Palazzo priority ONE!
2 comments:
What are you doing March 16, 2011?!
Just now catching up on my blog reading. What an incredible experience. There are just moments in life where you can't believe you are actually somewhere you always wanted to be. I think mine (until my next Italy trip) was when I was on the ferry and saw Capri in the distance knowing I was about to step foot onto one of the most beautiful islands I'd ever seen!
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