Inside the Vatican’s most fascinating and historic jobs

At the Vatican, the one holding the keys isn't always St. Peter, to whom Jesus entrusted the “keys of the Kingdom of Heaven” in the Gospel. The clavigero — literally the key keeper — is an official role currently held by Italian Gianni Crea. Working for the Vatican Museums, he carries a massive ring of 3,000 keys. They can unlock the doors to every room in the tiny city-state, including the Sistine Chapel.

Today, his role is primarily limited to overseeing the Vatican Museums, but it has ancient origins tracing back to the marshal of the conclave. Starting in the 13th century, the man with this title was responsible for guarding the keys to the room where cardinals gathered to elect a new pope — which today is the Sistine Chapel. In the Middle Ages, the marshal would sometimes even brick up the room's entrances to prevent any outside interference.

This original aspect of the job hasn't existed since the end of the Second Vatican Council. Now, before a conclave, the Vatican's Gendarmerie retrieves the key to the Sistine Chapel — for which there isn't a single duplicate — from the clavigero. During the election, once the doors are locked, the key is kept under high security until the white smoke appears.

Up until 1878, when Pope Leo XIII published the apostolic constitution Immutabili Dei consilio, a large portion of papal documents were drafted in Latin by scriptores — secretaries who specialized in writing gothic script on parchment. The Italian pontiff encouraged his administration to modernize by requiring standard Latin script and the use of printing presses.

As heirs to the artisans of the bolletica (the art of drafting papal bulls - the name is still used for a type of papal document), these scriptores continued to work within the Secretariat of Briefs to Princes and of Latin Letters for years, even as Italian became more widely used.

During World War II, Monsignor Domenico Tardini, the substitute for the Secretariat of State (who would later become a cardinal), noticed that using Latin as a language of government was causing problems. “In times of crisis, diplomacy needs words that carry a precise and immediate meaning, not ancient formulas that hide reality under literary drapery,” he argued.

Later, as Secretary of State, he also acknowledged a widespread ignorance of the Church's official language while preparing for the Second Vatican Council. “Demanding Latin for all working sessions is like condemning the majority of the council fathers and minutanti to complete silence, or worse, to judicial errors simply because they don't understand the texts up for a vote,” he pointed out.

After the Council, the scriptores didn't simply disappear, despite the growing importance of the “living” language desks within the Secretariat of State. Inside the small Latin Language Department, they continue to translate official texts into Latin to this day, especially for the Acta Apostolicae Sedis, the Holy See's official gazette.

Their role is crucial because, under canon law, the Latin text is always the legally binding version in the event of a translation dispute.

But these unique employees aren't the only ones who still hold this prestigious title. The artisanal nature of their original role from the days of parchment and gothic letters survives in another Vatican institution: the Vatican Apostolic Library.

There, scriptor latinus is an elite title given to a researcher specializing in paleography and codicology — the study of manuscripts and codices. The role involves scientifically cataloging the thousands of ancient works held in the popes' library. Italian researcher Andreina Rita was recently appointed to this position by Pope Leo XIV. There is also a scriptor graecus and a scriptor orientalis, who are responsible for manuscripts written outside the Latin cultural sphere.

In his highly anticlerical 1896 novel Rome, Émile Zola described the lavish procession of a pope inside St. Peter's Basilica: “On the sedia gestatoria, sheltered by the flabelli, those high fans of triumph, made of feathers, raised above the heads by the bearers in red tunics embroidered with silk, the Pope appeared, dressed in the sacred vestments he had put on in the Blessed Sacrament Chapel.”

The author emphasized this mobile throne, meant to represent the Chair of Saint Peter, which pontiffs likely adopted for public appearances after the fall of the Roman Empire. The red-tunic-wearing bearers he referred to are the sediari (chair-bearers). They're an honor guard belonging to the papal family, with roots dating back to the 16th century.

Carefully selected as men of deep trust, the sediari survived Pope Paul VI's abolition of the papal court, only to lose their primary function shortly after. Following one last trip around the square carrying the short-lived Pope John Paul I on the eve of his death, Pope Saint John Paul II officially abolished the use of the sedia in favor of the popemobile.

All the sedia gestatoria chairs were sent to the Vatican Museums. The sediari then transitioned into discreet servants within the papal apartments, welcoming the pope's guests and assisting during general audiences.

“Even if the papal bearers, whether they're permanent or substitutes, don't carry the chair on their shoulders anymore, it doesn't mean a sort of ‘mystique of the chair’ doesn't still exist. The papal bearers are in daily contact with the Holy Father. This creates a kind of cognatio spiritualis, a form of spiritual kinship,” explained Bishop Paolo De Nicolò, then-Regent of the Prefecture of the Papal Household, to Vatican Radio in 2012. However, the sediari still have one final occasion to carry the pope on their shoulders: the day of his funeral.

Belonging to the same papal family as the sediari are the gentlemen of His Holiness. They are the heirs of the papal nobility who surrounded pontiffs until Pope Paul VI stripped the role of its aristocratic dimension in 1968.

Recruited from the civil elite, they wear black tailcoats and a gold chain bearing the cross of St. Peter, even in the burning Roman heat. They work alongside the sediari and the addetti di anticamera (antechamber ushers). Together, they're responsible for welcoming guests and maintaining order during the pope's official audiences and ceremonies.

Like the sediari, these gentlemen are appointed for life. However, only those designated as “numeraries” assist the pope on a daily basis in the Apostolic Palace. The others, known as “supernumeraries,” only participate in major events.

When receiving these collaborators in February 2026, Pope Leo XIV praised the “sober beauty” of the papal protocol they meticulously craft. He also highlighted “the diligence of gestures of welcome and greeting that are noble but not affected, elegant but not sophisticated, so as to communicate affability to everyone.”

On the streets of downtown Rome, small, dark volcanic cobblestones are known as sanpietrini. It's a direct reference to St. Peter's Square, the very first place they were installed in the 16th century, after Pope Clement VII’s carriage nearly overturned there. But these cobblestones also share their name with a prestigious Vatican job.

The term sanpietrini also refers to the master artisans who work for the Fabric of St. Peter. They're mosaicists, stonemasons, marble workers, carpenters, blacksmiths, bronze workers, and bricklayers, all bearing the heavy responsibility of maintaining St. Peter's Basilica.

They're often remembered for their perilous working conditions in the past, especially when they were suspended by ropes high up on the dome to light thousands of torches for major solemnities. Considered a global gold standard in restoration, the sanpietrini are elite artisans who jealously pass down their knowledge from generation to generation.