Column of Marcus Aurelius

Stand still for a moment on Via del Corso and listen. Scooters hum past. Shoes tap on smooth paving stones. Somewhere a waiter calls out an order. Above all of this, a pale marble column rises into the Roman sky. A carved band winds around it like a ribbon, turning and turning until it meets a bronze figure at the very top. You are in Piazza Colonna, the Square of the Column. The square takes its name from the monument in front of you.

This is the Column of Marcus Aurelius. It was raised in the late second century to honour an emperor who spent many of his final years at war. It was probably completed under his son, Commodus, after Marcus died in the year 180. For nearly two thousand years it has stood on roughly the same spot. Around it, the city has rebuilt itself again and again. Empires, popes and governments have come and gone, and the column has stayed.

Who was Marcus Aurelius? Many people know him today as a philosopher rather than a soldier. He followed Stoicism, an ancient school of thought that teaches calm, duty and self-control in the face of things we cannot change. His private notebook, known to us as the Meditations, is still read around the world. And here is the first surprise. Much of that gentle, reflective book was likely written in army camps on the northern frontier. Those are the same campaigns carved into this stone.

Now follow the spiral with your eyes. The carvings tell the story of the Marcomannic Wars. These were long, hard campaigns against Germanic and other peoples along the River Danube, in central Europe. Roman soldiers march across bridges of boats. They build camps and cut down forests. The emperor appears again and again, often addressing his troops or receiving envoys. The story climbs the column in one continuous band, from the base all the way to the top.

If this design feels familiar, there is a reason. The column copies an earlier model, Trajan's Column, which stands a short walk south near Piazza Venezia. Trajan's monument celebrated his conquest of Dacia, in what is now Romania. Both columns use the same idea: a tall shaft of stacked marble drums with a spiral story wrapped around it. But look closely and you will see they feel quite different. The difference is in the carving itself.

On Trajan's Column, the figures are shallow and detailed, almost like drawings on stone. Here, the sculptors cut much deeper. The figures stand out more strongly, with dark shadows behind them. This made the scenes easier to read from the ground. Scholars also notice a change in mood. The scenes here show more suffering. Villages burn. Prisoners are led away. Women and children appear among the defeated. Many historians see a darker, more troubled view of war in these images.

Here is the second surprise, and it is one of the most famous scenes on the column. Search the lower spirals for a strange, winged figure with outstretched arms. Long streams of water pour from his body and beard. This is the so-called Rain Miracle. According to ancient accounts, a Roman army was trapped and dying of thirst when a sudden storm saved them. The column shows the storm as a rain spirit, drenching the Romans and washing away their enemies.

The story did not end there. Different groups claimed the miracle for themselves. Some ancient writers credited an Egyptian magician who travelled with the army. Later Christian writers told a different tale. They said that Christian soldiers in the legion had prayed for rain, and that their prayers were answered. Historians treat all these explanations with care. What we can say is that the strange rain figure became one of the best-known images from the column.

Now raise your eyes to the top. The bronze figure you see there is not an emperor. It is Saint Paul, the Christian apostle. In the late sixteenth century, Pope Sixtus Five ordered a major restoration of ancient monuments around Rome. His architect, Domenico Fontana, repaired this column in 1589. The original statue at the summit had been lost long before. Fontana placed Saint Paul there instead, turning a pagan victory monument into a Christian one.

That restoration left one curious mistake. Look at the base and you will see a long Latin inscription from Fontana's time. It names the column after the wrong emperor. For centuries, people believed this was the column of Antoninus Pius, who was Marcus's adoptive father and predecessor. Only later did scholars sort out the confusion. It is a small reminder that even the restorers of Rome sometimes misread their own city.

The column is hollow, which surprises many visitors. A spiral staircase climbs inside it, carved from the same marble blocks. Small slit windows let a little light into the stair. You can spot some of these narrow openings from the square, tucked between the carved scenes. The interior is not normally open to the public. Still, it is worth imagining the climb. You would walk in a tight circle, in near darkness, through the middle of a war story.

Now turn around and take in the square. The large building beside the column is Palazzo Chigi. Today it is the seat of the Italian Prime Minister, so you may see police and official cars nearby. Just behind, in the next square, stands Palazzo Montecitorio, home of the Chamber of Deputies. A stone fountain adds the sound of running water. Ancient Rome, papal Rome and modern government all share this small space.

Before you walk on, look once more at the spiral. Notice how the light moves across the deep carvings as the sun shifts. In the morning, one side sits in shadow. By afternoon, other soldiers and other faces come forward. Marcus Aurelius once wrote about how quickly all things pass. Yet here his wars still turn around this column. As you step back into the noise of Via del Corso, the story keeps climbing behind you.