Alexander Column

Stand still for a moment on the cobbles of Palace Square. Feel how wide the open space is around you. Wind comes in from the Neva and moves freely across the square. In the middle of all this space, one dark red shaft of stone rises straight up. A bronze angel stands on top, small against the clouds.

This is the Alexander Column. It honours Emperor Alexander the First and Russia's victory over Napoleon in the wars of the early nineteenth century. In 1812, Napoleon's army marched deep into Russia and then fell apart in retreat. Within a few years, Russian troops were in Paris. This column is the city's answer to that story. It is a single statement in stone, placed in front of the imperial residence.

The designer was Auguste de Montferrand, a French-born architect who spent most of his career in Saint Petersburg. Today he is best known for Saint Isaac's Cathedral, a short walk from here. Work on the column began around 1830. The monument was unveiled in 1834. So a Frenchman designed the city's great memorial to the defeat of France. Few visitors notice that detail. It is still a good one to carry with you.

Now look closely at the shaft. It is one solid piece of red granite. It is not built from stacked drums, the way many ancient columns are. The stone came from a quarry on the Gulf of Finland, in what is now Finland. At that time, the region was part of the Russian Empire. The quarry workers cut out a block of around six hundred tonnes. Then they shaped it into this smooth, slightly tapering column.

Moving it was a feat of its own. The granite travelled by water on a specially built vessel. Then it was dragged into position here. The lifting happened in 1832. Thousands of soldiers and workers turned large wooden capstans and pulled the shaft upright with ropes and pulleys. By most accounts, the lift took under two hours. Crowds filled the square to watch. When the column stood upright, people cheered.

Here is the detail that surprises almost everyone. The column is not bolted or cemented to its pedestal. It stands only by its own enormous weight, perfectly balanced on the base. Engineers trusted pure mass and precise stonework. For nearly two centuries, that trust has held. Look at the line where the shaft meets the pedestal. Then think about how much depends on that one quiet joint.

Not everyone trusted it at first. Locals say that people in the 1830s avoided walking close to the column, afraid it might topple. According to one popular tale, Montferrand walked around it every day to show that it was safe. Treat that as legend rather than record. But the fear was understandable. Nothing like this had been raised in the city before.

Lift your eyes to the top. The bronze angel there is the work of the sculptor Boris Orlovsky. The angel holds a cross in one hand. The other hand points up to the sky. Under its feet, the cross crushes a snake, an old symbol of evil and the defeated enemy. Legend has it that the angel's face was modelled on Alexander the First himself. Historians are less certain, so keep that as a story people like to tell.

Now walk to the pedestal and look at the bronze reliefs. They show military trophies: armour, shields and weapons, gathered in heavy, crowded compositions. You can also find allegorical figures, including river gods that stand for rivers the Russian army crossed during the campaign. On the side that faces the Winter Palace, an inscription in Russian dedicates the monument to Alexander the First from a grateful Russia.

The column also has a place in Russian literature. Alexander Pushkin, the country's best-loved poet, wrote a famous late poem about his own legacy. In it, he says his monument of words rises higher than the Alexandrian pillar. Russian readers understand this as a quiet challenge to this column, and to imperial power. Locals often say Pushkin chose not to attend the unveiling. Whether or not that is true, the poem made the column part of Russian literature.

Now turn slowly in a full circle. On one side is the green and white Winter Palace, long the home of the tsars and now part of the Hermitage Museum. Opposite it, the long curved General Staff Building wraps around the square, with a great triumphal arch at its centre. The arch also celebrates victory over Napoleon. Together, the arch and the column form one connected memorial, and the whole square becomes a stage for that victory.

This square has seen much more than ceremony. It has hosted imperial parades and protests. It has seen violence during revolutionary years and huge celebrations in the decades since. The column was here through all of it. During the Second World War, the city endured a long siege. The monument survived, although it carries traces of damage and later repair. Restorers have worked on the stone and bronze several times since then.

Before you leave, step back toward the edge of the square. From there, the column lines up with the arch or the palace, depending on where you stand. Watch how the red granite changes colour as the light shifts. It looks deep and warm under cloud, and almost glowing at sunset. Listen to footsteps on the stones, the horse carriages, the voices of other travellers. Then look up once more at the angel, who still points toward the sky.