Trajan column unravelled
In the second century of our era, Roman emperors had become very sophisticated communicators. They had discovered the power of images. No longer did they narrate their story for posterity on engraved text into marble, they carved stone with strong images that could be read even when their language was gone. Trajan, one of Rome’s great emperors who ruled over the Empire from 98 to 117 AD, understood it. Learning from his predecessors about the importance of creating one’s own biography, he told the story of his political and military achievements using sculpted reliefs instead of text as first century emperor Augustus had done in his Res Gestae Divi Augusti.
At the time of course, the carvings, just like photographs today, were an effective way to reach a mass audience, in part illiterate, to impose one’s view of events. Trajan was particularly innovative with the way he presented his sculpted tale: he had carved a tall column to be read like a rigid scroll, on which the story unfolds as the eyes follow the pictures up. It was the first time a story was told using intricately carved reliefs turning around a column like a flower garland. The story, unraveling in a 200-metre spiral from the base to the top, immortalises the lengthy Dacian war, Trajan’s most remembered military victory, during which he conquered the eastern lands and pushed the Empire’s frontier to the Black Sea, reaching the peak of the Roman Empire’s territory. It was designed by Trajan’s favourite architect, Apollodorus of Damascus. A statue of the Emperor used to crown the Carrara marble column, but in a display of power shift between the pagan Empire and the Catholic Church, it was replaced in the 7th century by the one of St Peter’s still standing today. Inside the column, a staircase leads to the platform which serves as pedestal to the Saint’s statue.
Today, the column stands in the midst of the remains of Trajan’s forum, between a baroque church and early 20th century buildings. It is still competing in height with the nearby Quirinale Hill, although the adjacent church of Santa Maria di Loreto is actually higher (as can be seen from the Forum). The pictures are difficult to decipher, and the sheer height makes it harder to see the carvings further up. As a matter of fact, the best place to see them it is at the Museo della Civiltà romana in the EUR district where a series of plaster casts of the sculptures is preserved. The story, made of 2,500 sculpted characters, starts with the Roman army crossing the Danube on a wooden bridge and building camps to prepare for war. Trajan, who personally conducted the campaign and was himself on the battlefield, is seen appearing as much as 60 times. The enemy is depicted wearing unusual costumes, reminiscent of fish scales, while the local villages and huts are carved in great detail, as well as the bloody war scenes. The story ends with the death of Decebalus, the dreaded Dacian leader.
Unfortunately, this museum, which closed down in 2014 for renovation, is still not open and it seems that work hasn’t even started. In January, an online petition was launched to reopen it as soon as possible and the appeal is gaining ground, although action has yet to be taken by the authorities. Trajan column’s plaster cast, taken in the 19th century for fear of degradation of the original column, is probably the best piece in the whole museum. The reliefs are displayed one by one as they appear on the original column, giving viewers the opportunity to follow the story in detail, and appreciate the quality of the sculptures. In some parts the plaster casts are in better condition than the original marble because they’ve been protected from 20th century pollution and weather alterations.
With Trajan, the Roman Empire reached its peak and implicitly began the irreversible path to its future decline. His column is all that is left of his reign: a frigid testimony of past glory. It may have inspired his successors to have their own column carved, like Marcus Aurelius whose own column has given its name to the square where it is standing outside of Palazzo Chigi, however, it should serve as a reminder that victory is not forever. What is eternal is the tale, no matter the medium used to tell the tale.
