Vatican Vendetta
Page 14
Thomas now began to move around the table distributing sheets of paper. ‘I have given the matter a lot of thought and, indeed, consulted with some of you around this table today. I have been particularly impressed by the Getty Museum’s situation. The Getty, as some of you will know, have an endowment fund which provides a yearly income somewhere in the region of $110 million for spending on art.
‘Yesterday, I met for an hour with Mr Sol Smallbone, director of the Getty Museum which, as you know, bought the Caravaggio. He briefed me on how the Getty endowment fund works.’
Thomas stopped at the far end of the table. ‘I propose to set up a scheme which is, in a way, a Getty Fund in reverse. My plan is to sell a large number of Vatican treasures all at once—a one-off sale which will produce a capital sum of such proportions that, properly invested, it will provide the Church with an annual income sufficient to fund whatever charity work we think is appropriate.’ He held up a copy of the two photostatted sheets which everyone present now had before them. ‘This is the list of works I am proposing to sell. But first some explanation is necessary as to how the choice has been made.
‘Clearly, there are many art works we cannot sell. We cannot sell the walls or the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel with Michelangelo’s frescoes on them; we cannot sell Raphael’s frescoes in the Stanza della Segnatura. Equally clearly it would be wrong to sell things that are intimately related to the Church’s history and authority—documents about the Council of Trent, for instance, or the Borgia family. We would not sell rare or early copies of the Bible or relics such as the bones of St Peter.’ He raised his voice. ‘But that still leaves a great deal that we can sell. The list I have put before you today for discussion contains what, after consultation, I propose can be sold. It is, of course, totally confidential at the moment.’
Thomas sat down. There was utter silence in the room. David cast his eyes down the two photostats. If the Pope really did intend to sell these works, and David had no doubt now that Thomas always said what he meant, then he was doing rather more than move up a gear. It was like switching from the horse and cart to Concorde. The list was so magnificent it was frightening.
What David read was:
Vatican Works of Art Intended for Sale by Auction (Provisional list)
Paintings
Estimated value (In US $)
Leonardo da Vinci (1452–1519)
St Jerome (1481); oil on wood panel; 103 × 75 cm
75,000,000
Raphael (Raffaello Sanzio, 1483–1520)
Coronation of the Virgin (1502–03); transferred on to canvas, tempera (?); 272 × 165 cm
60,000,000
Raphael (Raffaello Sanzio, 1483–1520)
Transfiguration (1518–20); oil on wood panel; 410 × 279 cm
60,000,000
Giovanni Bellini (c. 1430–1516)
The Burial of Christ; oil on wood panel; 107 × 84 cm
50,000,000
Giotto di Bondone (c. 1267–1337)
Stefaneschi Triptych (c. 1320); centre panel, 178 × 89 cm; left panel, 168.2 × 82.3; right panel, 168 × 82.6
50,000,000
Simone Martini (c. 1284–1344)
Christ Giving His Blessing (c. 1315–20); tempera on wood panel; 39 × 29 cm
50,000,000
Titian (Tiziano Vecellio, c. 1490–1576)
Madonna di San Niccolo dei Frari (1523); oil, transferred on to canvas; 388 × 270 cm
50,000,000
Perugino (Pietro Vannucci, c. 1446–1523)
The Resurrection (1502); oil on wood panel; 233 × 156 cm
40,000,000
Lucas Cranach the Elder (1472–1553)
The Pietà; tempera on wood panel; 54 × 74 cm
40,000,000
Fra Angelico (Giovanni da Fiesole, 1387–1455)
Scenes from the Life of St Nicholas of Bari (1437); tempera on wood panel; 63 × 33 cm each
30,000,000
Paolo Veronese (1528–88)
St Helen; oil on canvas; 166 × 134 cm
30,000,000
Gian Lorenzo Bernini (1598–1680)
Head of a Youth (c. 1635); oil on canvas; 67.6 × 50.1 cm
30,000,000
Nicholas Poussin (1594–1665)
Gideon Vanquishes the Midianites; oil on canvas; 98 × 137 cm
30,000,000
Guido Reni (1575–1642)
The Crucifixion of St Peter; oil on wood panel; 305 × 175 cm
20,000,000
Anton Van Dyck (1599–1641)
St Francis Xavier; oil on canvas; 346 × 214 cm
20,000,000
Giulio Romano (Giulio Pippi, c. 1492–1546)
The Stoning of St Stephen (1523); charcoal on paper; 419 × 285 cm
15,000,000
Sculpture
Michelangelo Buonarroti (1475–1564)
Pietà (c. 1500); white marble
100,000,000
Anonymous Roman; c. 1st century AD
Belvedere Apollo; white marble
15,000,000
Anonymous Greek; c. 1st century BC
Laocoön; white stone
15,000,000
Manuscripts
Martin Luther (1483–1546)
Papal Bull excommunicating same (1520)
10,000,000
Galileo Galilei (1564–1642)
Signed confession at his Trial
10,000,000
Total 780,000,000
The silence in the room lengthened. With nearly eight hundred million dollars in the balance, no one wanted to be the first to speak. What His Holiness proposed was so outrageous, so magnificent, so historic and yet so risky; everyone wanted time to think.
Thomas looked across to David. ‘I’d like your reactions in a moment, Mr Colwyn, but first let me add this. It cannot have escaped your notice that the biggest bidders at the two sales we have already had were both Americans. So, although I still want Hamilton’s to handle the sale, I’d like the auction to take place in America, in New York in fact. I’ve also been doing some historical research, and I’ve been studying Queen Christina’s collection. As you may know, when the Swedish queen died in Rome towards the end of the seventeenth century her fabulous collection was sold off. Eventually, it found its way to England. When it was sold there the sellers mounted an exhibition of her paintings for some months before the auction. That’s what I intend to do. That is why Cardinal Rich is here from New York. All these works to be sold will go on show at St Patrick’s Cathedral on Fifth Avenue. We shall charge for admission—thus raising extra money, generating publicity, and gaining time in which copies can be made, copies which we shall keep here in the Vatican. Now tell us, Mr Colwyn, is the plan feasible? Will it work?’
David fingered the paper in front of him. He was conscious of the traffic and the bright sunshine outside in St Peter’s Square. He was also aware that a critical point had been reached in the history of the Church and he had been asked to play a part in it. Yet he was unprepared. Or was he? He had no shortgage of experience, and he couldn’t honestly say that this idea of Thomas’s was any different in quality from the original decision to sell the ‘Madonna of Foligno’. It was greater in scale, certainly, and would leave the Vatican museums greatly denuded. But then the rewards were incomparably more significant.
In personal terms the plan, of course, would mean great business for Hamilton’s, with the bonus that he would continue to work for months with Bess. But it was perhaps the chance to affect things on a world scale that attracted him the most. Normally, no auctioneer could expect to play a role anywhere near as significant. It was an offer that wouldn’t come again.
So he said: ‘I quarrel with some of your figures, your Holiness. For instance, the Giulio Romano is undervalued for today’s taste, and the Bernini is overvalued. But I don’t quarrel with the idea. By my count you are selling twenty-one works, which aren’t enough to flood the market and spoil the prices. All the museums and galleries in the world will be eager to
own these works. And personally I believe the idea of putting art to work, so to speak, is a magnificent one. As for the exhibition at St Patrick’s, that’s an excellent suggestion—and, if I may say so, the Cathedral might make an ideal venue for the sale itself. Anyway, wherever it takes place, I can tell you that Hamilton’s will be delighted to handle the sale for you.’
‘Thank you, Mr Colwyn, thank you.’ The Pope beamed around the room. ‘Now, are there any other points? Now is the time to voice your doubts. If you can think of any problems let’s hear them before it’s too late to do anything about them.’
No one spoke. Then Cardinal Massoni cleared his throat. David had forgotten how weak the Secretary of State’s voice was but, given what he went on to say, its softness made his case quite moving.
‘Holiness, I am bitterly opposed to this plan, and you are well aware of my views. Nevertheless, for the record and in one last effort to dissuade you from what I believe is a disastrous course, I will repeat them here. Your successes so far, with sales which I freely admit I was also against, offer no guarantee that the plan you have now conceived will likewise succeed. It is too cavalier. It shows a disregard for Catholic heritage which, I believe, borders on the foolhardy. It is wrong to sell off these works because, in the first place, you have no right. Whatever you may say about papal authority, you must know in your heart that one man should not disperse what generations have collected and put in trust for those who come after him. Although Michaelangelo or Raphael or Giotto were paid by the Church of their day for what they did, the inspiration they embodied was not something a financial figure can be put on. The true home for these works is therefore in the Church here in Rome, at the heart of God’s earthly Kingdom. To have it sold off, when it might end up anywhere, is a disgrace.
‘What you are doing, Holiness, is wrong also because this art, and the hard work, faith and sense of beauty which it represents, is in a way part of the Church’s justification. Take away those things—hard work, faith and a sense of beauty—and you take away part of the Vatican’s reason for being. I believe furthermore that the scale of the charity work you intend to undertake with this fund is dangerous. Dangerous in its nature, dangerous in its extent, dangerous in the psychological impulses it plays with. The world is increasingly a small place. You cannot tamper with the world on this scale, Holiness, without producing a multitude of side effects which you can neither predict nor control. No Pope should set off on a journey when he knows so little of the destination.
‘And finally I object to the style of this sale—attaching financial values to works of human genius. In this the Vatican isn’t leading, Holiness, it is merely following the secular trend of our age.’ Massoni’s voice had gathered strength, but now it weakened again. ‘In my view, Holiness, this plan, this whole expedient of selling off our wonderful Catholic treasures, is demeaning to the Church, demeaning to the tradition of St Peter, and demeaning to the office of the Supreme Pontiff.’
Massoni’s figure slumped a little as he finished speaking but his eyes sparked as ferociously as ever. Silence again filled the room.
Thomas rose and limped to a window. He lit a cigarette and looked out. After a while he turned back to the room. ‘Eminence, your arguments sadden me. Not only are they the arguments of privileged men throughout the ages, that any change must be bad, but they also suggest that what I am doing has no sense of history. That I am somehow out of step with my predecessors. But am I really?’
He moved again, this time to the foot of the table, as far away from Massoni as possible, David noted. ‘Every expert—inside and outside the Vatican—agrees that more people left the Church under Paul VI’s pontificate than at any other time. And how was Paul known? As the Hamlet Pope, the man who was so cautious he could never make up his mind. Paul’s failure to speak out against the outrages perpetrated by the governments of Eastern Europe weakened his position fatally. His successor, Jean-Paul I, wanted change, especially in the Vatican’s relationship with the Third World. He appointed a black cardinal, Bernardin Gantin, to head Cor Unum. Sadly, as we all know, Jean-Paul I died after only thirty-three days in office. But look at the achievements wrought by his successor, Jean-Paul II: look at the support he offered to the Polish solidarity workers; don’t forget he wrote to the Russian President of his day, Leonard Brezhnev, threatening to resign as Pope and fight on the barricades if Russia invaded his home country. Remember the lecture he gave to the synod of bishops on the financial plight of the Church—the first time any Pope had “gone public” on the matter.’
Thomas stretched out his hands towards Massoni. ‘Can you really say that what I plan is any more dangerous or controversial than that? Am I any more concerned with money for its own sake than Jean-Paul II? Or Paul VI, who embroiled the Vatican with two financial swindlers, Michele Sindona and Roberto Calvi? And as long ago as the early 1970s didn’t Cardinal Heenan, of Great Britain, suggest that the Vatican might sell off some of its art to help the poor? Before that in the seventeenth century, Innocent XI sold all his earthly possessions when he was elected Pope—and he was a wealthy man—and gave the proceeds to the poor.’ His Holiness returned to his seat and sat down again. ‘No, Eminence, our plans aren’t that outrageous. Merely an extension of what has gone before, and applied to what even you must concede is an ever-changing world.’
Massoni didn’t reply. He shrugged, as if dismissing Thomas’s arguments as worthless.
Cardinal Rich now spoke. ‘Holiness, Cardinal Massoni has served the Church well, as has the caution he epitomizes. But I for one see a new response among the people I serve. Catholics are proud to be Catholics. For the first time in years the Church is talked about by everyone, not just the faithful. These sales have the attention of the world. We mustn’t let that go. I am sure a sale in St Patrick’s would be a wonderful success.’
Thomas inclined his head. He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray in front of him.
‘Savelli?’
The president of the Prefecture of the Economic Affairs of the Holy See looked uneasy. ‘I am divided, Holiness. I’m unhappy that we should be selling these treasures, yet I cannot overlook the fact that it would ease our burdens greatly to have the income from these funds. Perhaps on balance the sale is a good thing.’
‘Santander?’
Cardinal Santander shook his head mutely. He was responsible for the monuments and museums in the Vatican and he was having some of his jewels taken away from him. He wasn’t happy and Thomas knew it. But the Cardinal had no arguments that Massoni had not already put, so he wisely kept quiet.
‘Sabino?’
‘No problems from a banking point of view, Holiness. You can expect an income in excess of seventy-five million dollars each year. That’s enough to fund several capital projects—hospitals, dams, farms, factories—every year. Enough for the Church to have a real impact in poor countries.
‘Zingale? Loredan? Tecce? Venturini?’ No one else had anything to contribute.
‘Very well,’ said Thomas, summing up. ‘Mr Colwyn will coordinate the necessary details with Cardinal Rich. You can keep me informed through Elizabeth Lisle, Mr Colwyn. Perhaps a sale next Spring would be suitable.’
David nodded.
‘One final thing. Now that our discussions are completed, I ask—as any Pope, any leader, would—that those of you who perhaps do not agree with me nevertheless try sincerely to put our differences behind you and now work wholeheartedly for the success of the project. We cannot succeed if the Vatican is perceived as divided on this matter.’
Thomas looked around the table at the doubters. At Tecce, Venturini, Santander, Savelli. One by one they nodded. Finally, Thomas turned to Massoni, who still sat as still as death.
‘Eminence?’
The Secretary of State did not reply straight away. When he did so it was in a voice scarcely above a whisper. ‘No, Holiness, I want no part of this. If you insist on going ahead, then you must do so without me. I resign.’
&nbs
p; PART TWO
6
Bess’s announcement, that twenty-one Vatican treasures were to be auctioned off at one sale in New York, so that the Pope could continue the sort of work he had started in Foligno, the Marquesas Isles and in Sicily, was nothing less than a sensation. No one asked to comment on the news, no editor, no television producer, no art historian, could recall such a dramatic, dazzling or daring idea being conceived before. Newspapers across the world covered their front pages with colour reproductions of the treasures. Special television programmes were put together which examined the works of art and the men who had made them. For weeks Michelangelo, Bellini, Giotto and Simone Martini were as much talked about as any film celebrities. ‘Quickie’ books appeared on the Vatican’s art works and the Popes who had commissioned them. Later, more learned articles were published, assessing which museums around the world lacked which pictures, with estimates of the money likely to be involved. The enormous sums quoted kept the story on the front pages and for a few days Thomas became known in the headlines as ‘Pope Midas’.
The number of people visiting the Vatican picture gallery more than doubled and the lines stretched all the way down the Viale Vaticano, round the corner and into the Piazza del Risorgimento.
Massoni’s resignation had added spice to the story. The fact that the Holy Father’s decision to sell the treasures had caused a top-level rift in Rome was irresistible to the pundits and separated them, Catholic or not, into the radicals who sided with the Pope, and the conservatives, who preferred things the way they were.