Saint Jerome's Treasures

A nice façade that hides the construction mess

There’s a very small collection of my preferred second and third-tier churches in Rome, notable for their exquisite art: paintings, sculptures, frescoed-domes, intriguing nooks and crannies, etc. Much to my frustration, these lesser-visited churches seem to be closed over ninety per cent time. So, on those rare occasions when I’m fortunate enough to come upon one of these churches during their very restricted open-hours, I always make it a point to stop in, if only for a few minutes. Saint Jerome’s is one of them. Artistically speaking, it packs a powerful punch, filled to the brim with Baroque jewels. This humble, blink and-you’ll-miss-it, church is located right off the very chic, and very French, Piazza Farnese in Rome. For as long as I can remember, the little church has been partially encased by unsightly construction materials. Most prominent among the temporary wooden walls, pipes, scaffolding and other bric-a-brac, is a ghastly blue crane towering menacingly over the church. From the outside, the centuries-old church, wedged somehow into a stiflingly narrow street, looks a little worn out; its façade slightly blackened, having absorbed into its surface ample doses of soot and pollution.

Inside, however, is another story. One of this Baroque church’s most popular attractions is a tucked away side-altar. Two kneeling, marble-cast angels guard the entrance to the altar and are seen clutching a graceful mantle carved in alabaster, which serves as the altar rail. The delicate, veined mantle droops noticeably in the middle and displays stunningly realistic ripples of gentle folds. The entire side-altar space is, in fact, encased from top to bottom in rich caramel-colored alabaster, set to a floral scheme. The focal point of the side-altar is a beautiful yet simple painting of the Madonna and Child. It’s probably the most unique side-altar I’ve seen in Rome and easily competes with those found in the first-tier churches and basilicas.