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Though Brunelleschi was given increased freedom to oversee the construction of the dome of the Santa Maria del Fiore Cathedral, he knew that the Opera del Duomo would reconvene when the dome reached a height of 30 braccia (almost 70 feet). At this meeting, they would decide whether the dome could be built—as Brunelleschi insisted—without the wooden supports and scaffolding—known as centering—that were typically used throughout the construction of such domes during this time. By 1426, however, the Opera del Duomo had come to trust Brunelleschi’s vision and agreed to continue without centering. Following this, Brunelleschi implemented new herringbone patterns for the brickwork in the dome. Where Brunelleschi received the inspiration for this pattern is not known, but the approach was used in Asia and in antiquity. It helped to fix each brick in place during the difficult construction process. Each brick was carefully molded and inspected before being used on the project, as was the mortar. At their current rate, Brunelleschi’s workers were raising the dome by approximately one foot each month. With the increased height came increased risk, so Brunelleschi ordered the construction of a series of safety measures that were designed to mitigate (though not eliminate) risk. After 1420, only one work-related death was recorded on the construction site.
The dome of the Florentine cathedral could be seen as the latest iteration in humanity’s ancient quest to create large, monumental structures. Whereas many of Brunelleschi’s contemporaries criticized large structures from antiquity as evidence of humanity’s hubris, the dome of Santa Maria del Fiore was praised as “evidence of man’s God-given power to invent and the superiority of Florentine commerce and culture” (104). The people of Florence watched the dome being built brick by brick and circle by circle. The exterior shell of the dome, however, was not actually circular but octagonal. On the outside, Brunelleschi created “a kind of circular skeleton over which the octagonal structure of the dome took shape” (105). The inner dome, meanwhile, was built in a circular fashion. Horizontal arches were inserted between the two domes for safety purposes, encircling the dome at 8 foot intervals. These could be seen from the walkways which were in use between the two domes. The hoop tension of the dome above 36 braccia, when the angle of the dome exceeded 30 degrees, dictated the use of these nine rings. Though they could be seen from the inside, they were invisible to outsiders, to whom the dome still seemed octagonal.
Giovanni Battista Strozzi referred to the dome being built “circle by circle” (107) as both a reference to the construction process and an allusion to the famous circular depictions of heaven and hell in Dante Algieri’s Divine Comedy. The Florence-born Dante was one of the city’s most celebrated sons by the time of the construction of the dome. Dante’s depiction of hell, echoed in Brunelleschi’s design, foreshadowed the difficult period which would soon dominate Brunelleschi’s life.
As work on the cupola progressed through 1428, Brunelleschi faced his “first real setback” (110). More than 100 years earlier, the decision had been made to cover the exterior of the cathedral in Carrara marble. The bright white marble of Carrara was expensive and difficult to transport, especially given that the Arno—the river flowing through Florence—was not suited to large ships. Brunelleschi believed he had the answer. He was awarded a contract by the Opera del Duomo to transport 100,000 lbs of marble from Pisa to Florence. To accomplish this, he invented a new type of boat, the specifics of which are not known. For this new vessel, named Il Badalone (meaning The Monster), Brunelleschi was also awarded the world’s first patent, for “some machine or kind of ship, by means of which he thinks he can easily, at any time, bring in any merchandise and load on the river Arno and on any other river or water, for less money than usual” (114). Descriptions of the machine are notably absent from the writings of Manetti or Brunelleschi’s other near-contemporary biographer, the painter Giorgio Vasari, likely because Il Badalone was a disastrous failure. It sank, and Brunelleschi spent years attempting to recover the marble at great personal cost. Having predicted this failure, Giovanni da Prato wrote a sonnet to mock Brunelleschi, who responded in kind. Altogether, Brunelleschi lost the equivalent of ten years of salary to the failure, as well as damage to his reputation.
While Il Badalone weighed anchor and the workers at the dome labored 270 feet above ground, the Opera del Duomo was increasingly convinced of Brunelleschi’s plan to build the dome without centering. They had bought so completely into Brunelleschi’s plans that the once-revered model of the cathedral built by Neri di Fioravanti was repurposed as a lavatory. When cracks appeared in the side walls, however, work was paused. Brunelleschi proposed a series of chapels to be built alongside the cathedral to help support and buttress the building. While he was planning this proposal, however, Florence was distracted by war.
Brunelleschi was sent to the town of Lucca, 40 miles from Florence. The Republic of Florence had attacked Lucca, and a period of relative peace was coming to an end. In Milan, Giangaleazzo’s son Filippo Maria Visconti had resumed his father’s ambitious war. The Florentines accused the rulers of Lucca of forming a secret pact with Visconti, so they sent Brunelleschi to use his engineering expertise to end the siege. Military commissions were common for men like Brunelleschi, but such men were usually tasked with engineering defensive measures. Brunelleschi had never planned an offensive, and his plans were “much more ambitious” (125) than anything he had undertaken before. He planned to alter the course of the Serchio River with a dam and thus isolate Lucca in the middle of a lake. Brunelleschi, as usual, ignored advice and criticisms.
The dam was a failure. The Lucca forces attacked it and burst it before completion, flooding instead the Florentine encampment and destroying the Florentine army. Florence lost a decisive battle and an important strategic asset. Brunelleschi was not solely blamed, however, as many blamed “homosexuality” (129), which was allegedly a fundamental part of Florentine life. In 1432, the Florence government acted against this widespread homosexuality in an effort to end their supposed bad luck. A peace treaty with Milan was signed in 1433, much to the embarrassment of Florence.
The war in Lucca was not just personally embarrassing for Brunelleschi. It also affected the construction of the dome, as workers’ wages were halved. Brunelleschi’s own wages were cut. His plan to surround the cathedral with a series of chapels was also rejected in favor of a cheaper option, reinforcing the cracked parts of the cathedral wall with iron rods. Brunelleschi showed his contempt for this by delaying and delaying the work until he was ordered to complete it. His concerns were soon overshadowed, however, when he was arrested and thrown in prison.
Brunelleschi was charged with not paying his dues to the Guild of Stonemasons and Carpenters. Many members of the guild were in arrears on these payments, suggesting that his arrest was politically motivated. At this point, Brunelleschi was “rapidly falling out of favor with the Florentine ruling class” (133). Cosimo de’ Medici, the patriarch of the powerful Medici family and a supporter of Brunelleschi, had been sent into exile. King suggests that Brunelleschi’s diminished status and repeated failures created an opportunity for old rivals such as Ghiberti to pounce. Brunelleschi, however, was not treated like a common criminal, and he was soon freed by the Opera del Duomo. The day after his release, a pro-Medici government was elected and Cosimo also returned.
Two months later, Brunelleschi’s adopted son Andrea Cavalcanti, known as Il Buggiano, ran away to Naples with Brunelleschi’s money. He had followed in his adoptive father’s footsteps and was regarded as a skilled artist. He worked often for his father, but he was often paid late or not at all. Brunelleschi was negligent toward his finances, and his failure to pay his taxes on time made him ineligible for election to the Florentine government on several occasions. Fortunately for Brunelleschi, Pope Eugenius IV was residing in Florence during this time to avoid civil unrest and war in Rome. At Brunelleschi’s request, the Pope wrote to the government in Naples and Il Buggiano was returned, together with the stolen jewels. Brunelleschi welcomed back his adopted son, who was later made his heir.
As King delves deeper into the technical construction of the dome, he demonstrates how Renaissance-era accounts of Brunelleschi’s life by writers like Giorgio Vasari and Antonio Manetti occupy The Fine Line Between History and Legend. In Manetti’s account, Brunelleschi personally oversaw the production of every brick used in the construction process. He gave his blessing to all the materials, Manetti says, which illustrates his careful attention to detail and the extent to which he was invested in the project. Like much of Manetti’s biography, these details are not supported by fact. Whereas Manetti may play loose with historical fact, however, he knows how to construct a legend. As such, King’s book presents a dual narrative of construction. By referencing works by Manetti and Vasati, particularly in the more mundane and practical stretches of the book, King is able to demonstrate how the myth of Brunelleschi is constructed in parallel with the construction of the dome. Each action and gesture is imbued with significance and meaning, blurring the line between history and legend to elevate Brunelleschi to an even higher status. Through this legend, Brunelleschi becomes inseparable from his own creation.
As a modern historian, King provides a more nuanced and fact-based account of Brunelleschi’s life than biographers like Manetti and Vasari. Living close in time to Brunelleschi himself, these biographers are so invested in elevating his status that their work more closely resembles hagiography than biography, as though they were writing the life of a saint rather than a mere man. The secular canonization of Brunelleschi is part of a larger patriotic project, as Brunelleschi’s genius comes to stand for the genius of the ascendent city-state of Florence. Notably, Manetti and Vasari exclude stories about Brunelleschi’s failures. The sinking of Il Badalone is included in King’s book, and he notes that neither Vasari nor Manetti mentions it. They lavish praise on the effectiveness of his hoists and cranes, yet omit any mention of the times when Brunelleschi fails spectacularly. Similarly, the failure of the dam in Lucca is not only damaging to Brunelleschi’s reputation, but this failure—as with Il Badalone—is a costly misstep. By omitting Brunelleschi’s failures, Vasari and Manetti show that they are interested in constructing a myth rather than a history of Brunelleschi. King’s nuanced perspective, however, reveals how closely bound Brunelleschi had become to the dome. It is notable that these failures tend to happen when Brunelleschi is removed from the city of Florence; the further away he is from his project, the less effective his intellect seems to be. Brunelleschi is so invested in the dome and so fervent about the project that the Lucca dam and Il Badalone are costly, embarrassing distractions from what he seems to consider his real work. The true cost of these failures, then, are that they remove Brunelleschi from his passion project.
Around this time, Brunelleschi’s changing fortunes are also indicated by his arrest. The embarrassing public failures have lowered the status that—in the future—Vasari and Manetti will try so hard to construct. Yet the arrest also indicates the extent to which Brunelleschi managed to rise above the petty politics of the era. The Republic of Florence was a cutthroat world, as would be documented by Niccolò Machiavelli in the years after Brunelleschi’s death. Despite the warring factions, the powerful families, and the wealthy guilds all vying for control of one of Europe’s most prestigious cities, Brunelleschi focused only on the dome. To the extent that he did allow rivalries to intrude on his life, they were personal or professional battles against men like Lorenzo Ghiberti or Giovanni da Prato. In the chaotic swirl of Florentine politics, a mere two-week stint in a lavish cell suggests that Brunelleschi did not dip into politics, or even that every competing faction held him in such high regard that he was one of the few people who could exist above the violent fray. While others tried to use Brunelleschi’s genius in service of Architecture as a Political Statement, Brunelleschi himself cared only about the dome.



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