Victor Emmanuel II Monument

Stand still for a moment at the edge of Piazza Venezia. Traffic swirls around you, scooters hum, a bus sighs to a halt. Then lift your eyes. A wall of white marble rises in front of you, so bright that on a sunny afternoon it almost hurts to look at. The stone is pale and smooth, and it looks cool to the touch. Nothing else in this warm, ochre city looks quite like it.

This is the Victor Emmanuel II Monument. Romans usually call it the Vittoriano. It honours Victor Emmanuel the Second, the first king of a united Italy, who died in 1878. Before the nineteenth century, Italy was not one country. It was a patchwork of kingdoms, duchies and papal lands. This monument was built to tell a single, simple story. Italy is one nation, and Rome is its capital.

The design came from an architect named Giuseppe Sacconi, who won a competition for the project. He imagined something on a classical scale — a long, curved colonnade, wide stairways and terraces stacked one above another. Work began in the late nineteenth century. Sacconi did not live to see it finished. The monument was inaugurated in 1911, the fiftieth anniversary of Italian unification. Even then, builders kept working on it, and it was only completed in the 1930s.

Here is something many visitors never think about. To make room for all this marble, Rome lost a part of itself. A medieval neighbourhood once covered this slope of the Capitoline Hill. Its streets, houses and courtyards were cleared away. Part of an old convent next to the church of Santa Maria in Aracoeli was also demolished. That church still sits just to your right, behind its long, steep flight of steps. Its plain brick front shows you what the hill looked like before the marble arrived.

Now look at the colour again. The stone is not the local travertine you see across Rome. It is Botticino marble, brought from near Brescia in northern Italy. Travertine weathers to a warm honey tone. This marble stays brilliantly white. That is a big reason why the monument looks so different from its neighbours. It is also a big reason why many Romans have never quite loved it.

The locals have given it some unkind nicknames. Some call it the wedding cake, because of its layered white tiers. Others call it the typewriter, for the long row of columns that looks like keys. A few even call it the false teeth. Say any of these names to a Roman and you will probably get a smile. But you will notice the monument still appears in a great many of their photographs.

At the centre of the lower terrace is the Altare della Patria, the Altar of the Fatherland. Here lies the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. An unidentified Italian soldier from the First World War was buried here in 1921. He stands for all those who died without a name. Two soldiers stand guard beside the tomb, and flames burn on either side. Speak softly as you pass. Visitors are asked to be respectful here, so avoid sitting on the steps or eating nearby.

Above the tomb stands a statue of the goddess Roma, the female figure who personifies the city. Behind her, a gold-toned mosaic background glows in the light. On each side, carved processions move toward her. They show the virtues and labour of the Italian people. Take a moment to follow the figures with your eyes. This is the emotional heart of the monument, and many visitors walk straight past it on their way to the upper terraces.

Now raise your gaze to the king himself. A huge bronze statue shows Victor Emmanuel the Second on horseback. It is one of the largest equestrian statues in the world. According to a story often told in Rome, before the statue was raised into place, the sculptors held a dinner party inside the horse's belly. Around twenty people are said to have sat at the table. Look at the size of that horse, and you can almost believe it.

High above, on top of the two side porticoes, bronze chariots stand against the sky. Each one is pulled by four horses. Sculptures of winged Victories ride in them. One represents the unity of the nation, the other its liberty. In late afternoon, the bronze turns dark against a pale blue sky. Down at street level, you might also spot two fountains. They represent the two seas that wrap around Italy — the Adriatic in the east, and the Tyrrhenian in the west.

The monument is not only something to look at. You can climb it. Wide staircases lead up through the terraces, and the views widen with every step. Inside, there is a museum about the Risorgimento, the nineteenth-century movement that unified Italy. And for a separate ticket, a glass lift carries visitors right to the roof terrace by the chariots. From up there, Rome spreads out in every direction — domes, bell towers and terracotta rooftops.

On a clear day, the view from the top lets you read the whole city. Look toward the Colosseum and the long line of the Roman Forum. Look for the dome of Saint Peter's in the distance. Many people say this is one of the best viewpoints in Rome. There is an irony here. The rooftop is popular partly because it is the one spot in central Rome from which you cannot see the Vittoriano itself.

Before you go, turn around and look across the square. The building opposite is Palazzo Venezia, with its small balcony facing the piazza. Below you, the traffic keeps flowing around the square, just as it does every day. Rome is not a city that pauses for its monuments. As you walk away, notice how the white marble stays in view between the buildings. It follows you a long way down the street.