Church of the Gesù

Stand still for a moment in the square outside. Feel the air. Piazza del Gesù is a busy crossroads, with buses turning and scooters cutting past. Yet many visitors notice a strange, restless breeze here, even on calm days. In front of you rises a pale stone façade, stacked in two tiers and crowned with scrolls. Behind those doors is one of the most influential churches ever built in Rome.

This is the Church of the Gesù, the mother church of the Society of Jesus, the religious order better known as the Jesuits. Saint Ignatius of Loyola founded the order in the sixteenth century. His followers became teachers, missionaries and advisers across the world. This church was their home base. What happened inside these walls shaped how churches looked from Lisbon to Lima to Goa.

First, a story about that breeze. According to a popular Roman tale, the Devil and the Wind were once walking together through the city. When they reached this square, the Devil said he had business inside the church. He asked the Wind to wait for him. The Devil never came out. And so, locals say, the Wind still waits here. It still circles the square, looking for its friend. It is folklore, of course, but Romans love telling it.

Now to the history. Construction began in 1568. The money came from Cardinal Alessandro Farnese, a member of one of the most powerful families in Rome. The original design came from the architect Giacomo Barozzi da Vignola. The façade you see was completed to a design by Giacomo della Porta. The church was consecrated in 1584. Look up at the front. The two tiers are linked by large curved scrolls. This simple solution was copied again and again across Europe.

Why did this design matter so much? The church was built in the years after the Council of Trent. That council was the Catholic Church's great response to the Protestant Reformation. Its message was clear. Churches should help people hear the sermon and see the altar. So Vignola gave the Gesù one wide nave. There are no tall columns dividing the space. The side chapels sit in shallow bays along the walls. Everyone inside can see the high altar.

Step inside now, and let your eyes adjust. After the bright square, the interior feels warm and golden. There is gilded stucco, coloured marble and painted figures everywhere. Interestingly, the church was much plainer when it was first finished. Most of the rich decoration you see came in the following century. That was the age of the Baroque, a style built on drama, movement and emotion. The Jesuits embraced it fully.

Walk toward the middle of the nave and tilt your head back. Above you is a huge ceiling fresco, the Triumph of the Name of Jesus. It was painted in the late seventeenth century by Giovanni Battista Gaulli, an artist known as Baciccio. At the centre, a blaze of golden light surrounds the letters IHS. That is a monogram for the name of Jesus, and it became the Jesuit emblem. Heaven seems to open right above your head.

Now look at the edges of the painting. This is the detail many visitors miss. Some figures do not stay inside the frame. They spill over it, painted onto shaped stucco panels that cross the gilded border. The falling figures near the edge represent the damned, tumbling out of heaven toward you. The sculptor Antonio Raggi made the white stucco angels around the fresco. Painting, sculpture and architecture blend together here. It is hard to tell where one stops and the next begins.

Turn now to the left transept, the arm of the church to the left of the main altar. Here is the chapel of Saint Ignatius himself. His remains lie in an urn beneath the altar. The chapel was designed in the late seventeenth century by Andrea Pozzo, a Jesuit brother and painter. It glows with gilded bronze and columns faced in lapis lazuli, a deep blue semi-precious stone. At the top, a globe faced with the same blue stone sits among the figures of God and the Holy Spirit.

In the niche stands a large statue of Saint Ignatius, clad in silver. Here is a second surprise. The original silver statue was largely melted down at the end of the eighteenth century. The papacy needed money to pay heavy demands from Napoleon's France. What you see today is a later replacement. Look also at the two white marble groups on either side. One shows Religion overcoming Heresy. The other shows Faith triumphing over Idolatry. They make the Counter-Reformation message impossible to miss.

The chapel also hides a small piece of theatre. Pozzo painted a large canvas of Saint Ignatius that normally covers the statue. During a daily ceremony, a mechanism lowers the painting, and the silver statue appears behind it. Music and narration accompany the moment. Romans call this device the macchina, which simply means the machine. If you can, ask at the church about when it takes place. It is a rare chance to see Baroque stagecraft working as it was intended.

Across the church, in the right transept, is the altar of Saint Francis Xavier. He was one of the first companions of Ignatius. He travelled as a missionary to India and Japan, and he died near the coast of China. A relic of his arm is kept here in a reliquary above the altar. Standing between these two altars, you are standing between the founder and his most famous missionary. The whole order's story fits into this one space.

Before you leave, consider the rooms next door. Ignatius lived and worked in a building beside the church. Some of his small private rooms survive and can sometimes be visited. A corridor there was painted by Andrea Pozzo with clever perspective tricks. Walk along it, and the painted architecture seems to shift as you move. It is a quiet contrast to the grandeur of the church itself.

Now take one last look up at the ceiling. Notice how the light from the windows falls across the gold. Listen to the hush inside, so different from the traffic beyond the doors. When you step back out into the square, you may feel that famous breeze on your face. The Wind, as the story goes, is still waiting. And behind you, the church that taught the world how to build for the Counter-Reformation stands as it has for more than four centuries.