10 Best Sights in Piazza Navona, Campo de' Fiori, and the Jewish Ghetto, Rome

San Luigi's Contarelli Chapel (the fifth and last chapel on the left, toward the main altar) is adorned with three stunningly dramatic works by Caravaggio (1571–1610), the Baroque master of the heightened approach to light and dark. They were commissioned for the tomb of Mattheiu Cointerel in one of Rome's French churches (San Luigi is St. Louis, patron saint of France). The inevitable coin machine will light up his Calling of Saint Matthew, Saint Matthew and the Angel, and Martyrdom of Saint Matthew (seen from left to right), and Caravaggio's mastery of light takes it from there.

When painted, they caused considerable consternation among the clergy of San Luigi, who thought the artist's dramatically realistic approach was scandalously disrespectful. A first version of the altarpiece was rejected; the priests were not particularly happy with the other two, either. Time has fully vindicated Caravaggio's patron, Cardinal Francesco del Monte, who secured the commission for these works and staunchly defended them. This church regularly enforces the rule of covered knees and shoulders, and turns away those who do not abide.

This basilica set atop a steep staircase between Piazza Navona and the Pantheon houses several treasures. In the first chapel on the left is Caravaggio's celebrated Madonna of the Pilgrims, which scandalized all of Rome for depicting a kneeling pilgrim all too realistically for the era's tastes, with dirt on the soles of his feet and the Madonna standing in a less-than-majestic pose in a dilapidated doorway. Pause at the third column on the left of the nave to admire Raphael's blue-robed Isaiah, said to be inspired by Michelangelo's prophets on the Sistine ceiling (Raphael, with the help of Bramante, had taken the odd peek at the master's original against strict orders of secrecy). Directly below is Sansovino's Leonardo-influenced sculpture, St. Anne and the Madonna with Child.

As you leave, in a niche just inside the door, is the sculpted Madonna and Child, known to the Romans as the "Madonna del Parto" (of Childbirth) and piled high with ex-voto offerings giving thanks for the safe deliveries of children. The artist was Jacopo Tatti, also sometimes confusingly known as Sansovino after his master.

The name of the church reveals that it was built sopra (over) the ruins of a temple of Minerva, the ancient goddess of wisdom. Erected in 1280 by Dominicans along severe Italian Gothic lines, it has undergone a number of more or less happy interior restorations. Certainly, as the city's major Gothic church, it provides a refreshing contrast to Baroque flamboyance. Have a €1 coin handy to illuminate the Cappella Carafa in the right transept; the small investment is worth it to better see Filippino Lippi's (1457–1504) glowing frescoes featuring a deep azure expanse of sky and musical angels hovering around the Virgin.

Under the main altar is the tomb of St. Catherine of Siena, one of Italy's patron saints and a major destination for faithful locals who drop written prayers on her final resting place. Left of the altar you'll find Michelangelo's Risen Christ and the tomb of the gentle artist Fra Angelico. Bernini's unusual and little-known monument to the Blessed Maria Raggi is on the fifth pier of the left-hand aisle.

In front of the church, Bernini's Elephant and Obelisk is perhaps the city's most charming sculpture. An inscription on the base references the church's ancient patroness, reading something to the effect that it takes a strong mind to sustain solid wisdom.

With an overall design by Vignola and a facade and dome by Della Porta, the first Jesuit church in Rome influenced the city’s ecclesiastical architecture for more than a century. Consecrated in 1584—after the Council of Trent (1545–63) solidified the determination of the Roman Catholic Church to push back against northern Europe's Reformed Protestants—Il Gesù also became the prototype for Counter-Reformation churches throughout not only Italy but also Europe and the Americas.

Although low lighting underplays the brilliance of everything, the inside of the church drips with gold and lapis lazuli, gold and precious marbles, and gold and more gold. The interior was initially left plain to the point of austerity; when it was finally fully embellished 100 years later, no expense was spared to inspire believers with pomp and majesty. The most striking element is the ceiling, where frescoes swirl down from on high and merge with painted stucco figures at the base. The artist Baciccia achieved extraordinary effects, especially over the nave in the Triumph of the Holy Name of Jesus. Here, the figures representing evil who are being cast out of heaven seem to hurtle down onto the observer.

The founder of the Jesuit order himself is buried in the Chapel of St. Ignatius, in the left-hand transept. This is surely one of the most sumptuous altars in Rome, though as is typical of Baroque decoration, which is renowned for its illusions, the enormous globe of lapis lazuli that crowns the altar is really only a shell of lapis over a stucco base. Note, too, architect Carlo Fontana’s heavy bronze altar rail, which is in keeping with the surrounding opulence.

Imbued with the supreme grace of the Renaissance, this often-overlooked church dedicated to Florence's patron saint, John the Baptist, stands in what was the heart of Rome's Florentine colony, where residents included the goldsmiths, bankers, and money changers who contributed to the building of the church. Talented goldsmith and sculptor Benvenuto Cellini of Florence, known for both his genius and his vindictive nature, lived nearby.

Although the church was designed by Sansovino, Raphael (yes, he was also an architect) was among those who competed for this commission. The interior is the perfect Renaissance space, one so harmonious that it seems to be a 3D Raphael painting. Borromini executed a splendid altar for the Falconieri family chapel in the choir. He's buried under the dome, despite the fact that those who committed suicide normally were refused a Christian burial.

The quintessence of Baroque architecture, this church has a facade that is a wonderfully rich mélange of bell towers, concave spaces, and dovetailed stone and marble. It's the creation of Francesco Borromini (1599–1667), a contemporary and rival of Bernini. Next to his new Pamphilj family palace, Pope Innocent X had the adjacent chapel expanded into this full-fledged church. The work was first assigned to the architect Rainaldi. However, Donna Olimpia, the pope's famously domineering sister-in-law, became increasingly impatient with how the work was going and brought in Borromini, whose wonderful concave entrance has the magical effect of making the dome appear much larger than it actually is.

The name of this church comes from the Greek agones, the source of the word navona and a reference to the agonistic competitions held here in Roman times. The saint associated with the church is Agnes, who was martyred here in the piazza's forerunner, the Stadium of Domitian. As she was stripped nude before the crowd, her hair miraculously grew to maintain her modesty before she was killed. The interior is a marvel of modular Baroque space and is ornamented by giant marble reliefs sculpted by Raggi and Ferrata.

Topped by the highest dome in Rome after St. Peter's (designed by Maderno), this imposing 17th-century church is remarkably balanced in design. Fortunately, its facade, which had turned a sooty gray from pollution, has been cleaned to a near-sparkling white. Use one of the handy mirrors to examine the early-17th-century frescoes by Domenichino in the choir vault and those by Lanfranco in the dome. One of the earliest ceilings done in full Baroque style, its upward vortex was influenced by Correggio's dome in Parma, of which Lanfranco was also a citizen. (Bring a few coins to light the paintings, which can be very dim.) The three massive paintings of St. Andrew's martyrdom are by Mattia Preti (1650–51). Richly marbled and decorated chapels flank the nave, and in such a space, Puccini set the first act of Tosca.

This eccentric Baroque church, probably Borromini's best, has one of Rome's most delightful "domes"—a dizzying spiral said to have been inspired by a bee's stinger. The apian symbol is a reminder that the church was commissioned by the Barberini pope Urban VIII (a swarm of bees figure on the Barberini family crest), although it was completed by Alexander VII. The interior, open only for two hours on Sunday morning, is worth a look, especially if you share Borromini's taste for complex mathematical architectural idiosyncrasies. "I didn't take up architecture solely to be a copyist," he once said. Sant'Ivo is certainly the proof.

In 1656, Pietro da Cortona (1596–1669) was commissioned by Pope Alexander VII to enlarge the tiny Piazza della Pace in front of the 15th-century church of Santa Maria so that it could accommodate the carriages of its wealthy parishioners. His architectural solution was to design a new church facade complete with semicircular portico, demolish a few buildings here and there to create a more spacious approach, add arches to give architectural unity to the piazza, and then complete it with a series of bijou-size palaces. The result was one of Rome's most delightful little architectural set pieces.

Within are several great Renaissance treasures. Raphael's fresco above the first altar on your right depicts the Four Sibyls—almost exact replicas of Michelangelo's, if more relaxed. The fine decorations of the Cesi Chapel, second on the right, were designed in the mid-16th century by Sangallo. Opposite is Peruzzi's wonderful fresco of the Madonna and Child. The octagon below the dome is something of an art gallery in itself, with works by Cavalliere Arpino, Orazio Gentileschi, and others; Cozzo's Eternity fills the lantern above.

Behind the church is its cloister, designed by Bramante (architect of St. Peter's) as the very first expression of High Renaissance style in Rome. In addition to an exhibit space for contemporary art, the cloister has a lovely coffee bar.

This church, sometimes known as Chiesa Nuova (New Church), is most famous for its three magnificent altarpieces by Rubens. It was built toward the end of the 16th century at the urging of Philip Neri and, like Il Gesù, is a product of the fervor of the Counter-Reformation. It has a sturdy Baroque interior, all white and gold, with ceiling frescoes by Pietro da Cortona depicting a miracle reputed to have occurred during the church's construction: the Virgin and strong-armed angels hold up the broken roof to prevent it from crashing down upon the congregation. Note that the church closes daily from 12 pm--5 pm.