Quote: The ensemble of the Piazza del Duomo is stunning. It is weird to think that the cathedral’s distinctive frontage was not completed until the 19th century. I found it hard to imagine it without the green banding you see down its length, and which reflects and echoes that on the Baptistery and on the campanile. The main structure of what you see though dates from the original plans (though with some later modifications) by Arnolfo di Cambio; the first stone was laid on this work in 1296. It was designed as a show of one-upmanship against rivals Pisa and Siena. And when completed in the 15th century this church was the largest in Europe, ‘broad enough to cover with its shadow all the peoples of Tuscany’ as the chronicler Villani put it. Yet no church could be large enough to cover the legions of tourists that now swirl around it.

The exterior is a riot of green and white marble, Romanesque in form, but studded with gothic pointed arches, home to a breviary of carved saints. This duomo is dedicated to Santa Maria del Fiore – St Mary of the Flower. To my mind the one problem is that Brunelleschi’s miraculous red-tiled dome is so vast, and Giotto’s spindly campanile is so tall, that you cannot really fit them into a photograph. Whereas Pisa’s Piazza dei Miracoli has wide-open vistas, Florence’s Piazza del Duomo is hemmed close by buildings.

The interior of the duomo is austerely – and somewhat disappointingly – bare. There is a mural by Uccello, the master of perspective, to the English condottiere (mercenary captain) Sir John Hawkwood. You can also get a half-glimpse of Vasari’s 16th century illustration of the Last Judgement under the dome (dancing skeletons etc). There is also a stairway leading down to the remains of the original Santa Reparata cathedral, for which you have to pay. Save money. Go down and to the left to the giftshop. From there you get an idea of what lies down there. You also get to see Brunelleschi’s tomb.

Why is Brunelleschi so feted? Well, to quote the epitaph from Sir Christopher Wren’s tomb in London’s St Paul’s Cathedral, ‘If you seek his monument, look around you’. The nave is only half the story. As tall again is the immense red mitre of the dome. Octagonal, segmented like an orange, shaped like an egg standing on end (on of Brunelleschi’s favourite tricks), this dome is as huge as a hill. It is Florence’s crowning symbol and its glory, and can be seen to its best vantage from the uplands around the city or – for greater detail – from the top of the campanile. It is still the highest peak in Florence’s city-scape.And it is impossible. The space it had to span was so vast, contemporaries denied any dome could roof it. When Filippo Brunelleschi avowed that not only could the octagonal sanctuary be domed, but then proposed to be the first to not use a wooden supporting frame, his rivals scoffed. And yet, sixteen years later, the dome was completed; allegedly its construction still cannot be satisfactorily explained by today’s architects. The lantern at the top was another piece of Brunelleschi brilliance; again he proved wrong the nay-sayers who doubted this vast canopy could support another structure.

Nowadays the dome also supports sightseers. From 8.30 to 6.20 entry costs €6.00. Claustrophobes and acrophobes avoid, but anyone else I would encourage to pay a visit. You enter from the north side of the nave – you will be able to spot the queue. Aim for the start of the day, or the end to get a shorter wait. 463 stairs lead up – oddly the ascent was not too arduous, and even I didn’t get out of puff. You get a break half-way up. A balcony leads you around the interior of the dome, at the top of the octagonal drum. It is only from here that you are able to see all of Vasari’s Last Judgement. The man is a hack. The devilish tortures he depicts are just prurience – particularly the one poor soul who is getting a flaming torch rammed up his fundament. Still, even the dizzying vertigo you might gain from craning up at the scene is preferable to considering how high above the marble pavement this flimsy narrow walkway projects!

It was the tail end of the day when I went up, 5.45. In March this proved to be exactly the right time to pay a visit. Normally the 180 degree views over Florence are worth the entrance fee alone. At 91m, this is the highest point you can reach in the city – taller than the Palazzo Vecchio’s tower (which is closed to the public anyway), taller (just) than the campanile. To the south is the Palazzo Vecchio, to the south-east Santa Croce, to the north-west the dome of San Lorenzo. But to the west…To the west the sun sank orange, tinting the buildings with its amber light. The change in illumination brought a completely different aspect to the scene from when I had gazed from the top of the campanile that morning – plus half the diorama was not swallowed up by the duomo itself. As the sun dropped behind the rumpled western hills the campanile looked like a rocket to the stars, limned in fire. Along with my fellow tourists I stood in awe-struck silence. The theatre of the moment was really special.

Descending, I saw a spot of remarkably erudite graffiti on a wall: ‘Brunelleschi is Magic’. Indeed.

Even if there is only the slimmest possibility of you revisiting that moment as the sun flared in its dying moments, I would urge you to climb the 463 steps to the dome; hell, I’d be right behind you, pushing you up the tight passages. An ascent of either dome or campanile should be compulsary. In comparison to the vantage point offered up there and the busy green and white of the exterior, the interior is a real let down. Still, at least it is free to enter the duomo.

One last thing. Pay homage to the man himself. On the southern side of the Piazza there is a marvellous seated statue of Filippo Brunelleschi, squinting up at the dome he designed. It is a wonderful humanistic sculpture, and makes this architectural genius seem a pleasant old duffer.
From journals Florence, Birth-Place of the Renaissance