FLORENCE THE GOLDEN CITY 

by Lviah Fenster

The storied city of Florence blooms with art, history, sensuality, food, fashion and fragrance. Lviah Fenster guides you through some of its beautiful attractions. 

After my first view of the façade of Florence’s famed Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore (popularly known as the Duomo), Giotto’s tower and the Baptistery, in their shimmering glory, I would have been content to leave Tuscany and go home.

The sight of Brunelleschi’s dome floating above the city and its decorative riot of pink, green and white marble exteriors literally take ones breath away. I was transported into another dimension of pleasure – one that is provided by the great creations of humanity. And I was only one of countless visitors over a score of centuries to be awe-struck and enraptured by this sight. In 1428 the young Leon Baptista saw, for the first time, Brunelleschi’s dome.

 

“A structure so large that it stood higher than the hills and was wide enough to cover with its shadow all the people of Tuscany,” he wrote. 

One hears complaints about the hoards of tourists and of course, they are there, but the Duomo’s rather stark interior is as vast as two and a half rugby fields, so I did not find the throng at all overwhelming. And this huge creation is only a part of the riches on offer here. Behind the apse of the Cathedral is the Museo dell’ Opera, the workshop founded when the Duomo was built six centuries ago.

The Museum houses artworks that were removed from the Cathedral and its complex to protect them from the effects of the elements. Here, you can see the mechanisms by which Brunelleschi’s dome was built and wonder at his daring – and that of the city fathers who commissioned it. No one at the time knew whether it would last or collapse. Also in the Museum and restored to their original golden clarity are Lorenzo Ghiberti’s panels. Made for the East door of the Baptistery, they were dubbed “The doors of Paradise” by Michelangelo. 

This is also the setting for one of Michelangelo’s last works – The Pietà, which was originally intended for the master’s own tomb (the figure of Nicodemeus is reputed to be a self-portrait). In contrast to this profoundly sorrowful group is the sheer joy of Donatello’s marble choir, the quintessence of carefree childhood. The figures run after one another, dancing and exuberant.  Swing round and you’ll be face to face with Luca della Robbia’s choir, exultant figures praising God in song. They play mandolins, trumpets, and cymbals in so pure a manifestation of music that you can almost hear the notes. 

Remember to stroke the shiny nose of this landmark – it’s believed that doing so ensures that you return to this marvellous city. You’ll certainly want to return to the Mercato Nuevo, which is filled with tempting leatherwork, marbled paper, clothes, silk shawls – and all manner of kitsch and trivial interpretations of Florence’s iconic David, from illuminated plastic versions to the most ubiquitous and crudest interpretations: aprons proudly printed with images of the legend’s genitalia and pubic hair.

After countless reproductions in art books and popular culture, you could be forgiven for imagining that you know the statue, but you would be wrong. The original David stands in the Galleria dell’Accademia and nothing can prepare you for the shock of confronting this huge figure. The years when this seminal piece was carved were difficult ones in Florence’s history. The city wanted a grand work signifying confidence and independence at a time when its people were being exhorted to defend their liberty and in need of a concrete symbol of the Florentine Republic. 

The 27-year-old Michelangelo began carving the massive marble in 1501 “with determination and strength” as a note in the margin of his contract states. It was initially intended to stand high on one of the cathedral’s eastbuttresses, hence the powerful and disproportionate hands and head. When this placement was rejected the statue was moved twice – first in 1504 when it left the courtyard of the Museo dell’ Opera where it was carved to take up its place in the Piazza della Signoria. But it was too large to fit through the doorway without breaking its head and an opening had to be broken in. 

It then took 40 men and four days to move the statue the distance of a 10-minute walk. 

David stood in front of the Palazzo Vecchio until 1873 when it became evident that pollution would destroy this incomparable piece of art. This time, mindful of the previous problems, the Florentines built the Academia especially to house their treasure – no destroyed doorways this time around! They laid down railway tracks and with infinite care transported it to the Academia. 

A photograph taken at the time shows David’s head protruding above a wooden fence that had been built around the work to protect it. In the photo, David seems to be gazing back at his previous abode with an overwhelming expression of vulnerability, as though wondering, “Where to now? And can it be done?” And, like the statue, even the great master Michelangelo himself needed encouragement at times for when he was about to begin carving the unfinished prisoners, also in the Academia, the artist Luca Signorelli addressed him thus: “Do not doubt that the Angels will come down from heaven to take you by the arms and help you.” And they surely did. 

Suitably refreshed, we made our way to the Palazzo Medici-Riccardi. To the right of the entrance is a tiny chapel, on the wall of which are Benozzo Gozzoli’s frescos – a dazzling depiction of the Journey of the Magi. The procession weaves around hills, through the valleys and countryside of Florence in a spectacular display of elegant brocades and fine satins. Prominent among the throng is Lorenzo the Magnificent on horseback and dressed in a gown of exquisite workmanship inlaid with precious stones and jewels and a grand hat also jewel-encrusted.

 

This beautifully choreographed event teems with life. And Florence continues to teem with rich and sensual life. Ambling along Via Dei Tavolini, our attention was caught by the beauty of the Italian language – in crescendo and clearly expressing pleasure, chatting, laughing and enjoying food and drink with typical joie de vivre. We were at Cantinetta Dei Verrazano and lunch time was approaching. There was not a table to be had, so we happily perched on benches along the wall. 

The Cantinetta Dei Verrazano has other intriguing connections, one of which is the Castle of Verrazano – both the restaurant and the Castle share not only a name, but also an ancient lineage.  

Situated between Florence and Sienna, in the heart of the Chianti Classico wine producing area, the Castle’s vineyards were first mentioned as far back as 1170 and they still attract tourists. 

Giovanni da Verrazano, who was born here in 1485, went on to discover the Bay of New York and the main part of the East Coast, and the New York suspension bridge with the largest span in the world bears his name. 

 

 

The Castle of Verrazzano
in Chianti Classico area.

Another eponymous restaurant is the sedate and sophisticated Frescobaldi, where the mozzarella potato soufflé was excellent and the sharp green olive oil so good that I could happily have spent the rest of the afternoon dipping bread into a bowl of it. Along with many of the city’s ancient families, the Frescobaldis arrived in Florence in the 10th century. They took up residence in the surrounding hills and built a palace on the south side of the Arno in the Oltrano district, where in 1252 they built the bridge of Santa Trinità, which was later wantonly destroyed by the Nazis. 

In a poignant little known chapter in history, the bridge was rebuilt after the Second World War by a company of African Americans whose trading base was situated in what it today the Piazza Frescobaldi. The Frescobaldis boast that one of their ancestors, a particularly illustrious contessa, was a relation of Dante’s Beatrice, but the contessa’s fame extended even beyond this happy link to Italy’s culture for I was assured that she’d had 52 children, an amazing score achieved by the fact that no pregnancy produced less than three babies at a time. Talk about multiple births! 

The redoubtable lady looks none the worse for wear in her portrait, though, and the story evinced such a skeptical response that I checked its veracity. Yes, it’s true – and the records are in the British Museum. In Oltrano (across the Arno) tranquil, leafy streets give glimpses of some of the world’s most expensive villas. 

Stop at Michelangelo’s Square for an enchanting view of Florence and then make your way to no.19 Costa di San Giorgio, where Galileo’s house still stands. 

Opposite is the Restaurant Omero, with views of the countryside – silver grey olive trees, straight, dark green cypresses and rows of vineyards dotted with the odd castle or farmyard that are often exactly what you would have gazed on 2000 years ago.

Libraries are filled with books on the galleries of Florence. Shelves upon shelves are crammed with biographies, histories of the Medici and their times and analyses of the history of the art of the Renaissance. However, no description can give you a sense of the size of the works. In the Uffizi Gallery, Giotto’s Madonna and Child in Majesty metaphorically towers above all else in my mind, capturing a new reality and a changing artistic conceptions of the world.

Its great size, 10’8” x 6’8¼,” is overwhelming – and so is its depiction of the human features and feelings of a living mother and child, which herald a new age in art. “Giotto appeared, said Leonardo da Vinci, “and drew what he saw.”  By contrast, Piero Della Francesca’s famous diptych is amazingly small, just 18” x 13. Yet in my mind’s eye the portraits of Federico da Montefeltro and Battista Sforza are monumental – and underlined by sadness since Battista had died before the painting was begun and her skin, the colour of pale ivory, emphasises Federico’s loss.

 

The greatest of the great are in the Uffizi, and in addition to lifelong memories, you can take away and wear reminders of its grandeur courtesy of the museum shop, which includes beauties such as faithful reproductions of the pearl and medallion necklace worn by Eleanora of Toledo in Bronzino’sluminous portrait of Eleanora and her son. In his book on Florence, David Leavitt writes of how some of the Uffizi’s greatest works were saved from the Nazis. Sir George Sitwell (father of Osbert, Sachevarell and Edith) owned a castle on the outskirts of Florence, known since medieval times as an unimpregnable stronghold.

Along with surrounding peasants, who hid out here, aware that they would be safe in this fortification, the Uffizi’s curator and a guard transported the museum’s treasure to this castle for safekeeping. These two brave and passionate men took up their positions in front of the paintings, telling the Nazis, who had arrived to use the venue as their headquarters, that the paintings did not belong to them but to the world and they were not to be touched. 

They stood watching over their artistic charges throughout the occupation and miraculously the works are undamaged. At war’s end, the essayist Eric Linklater and his batman arrived to take control. Weary and in battle fatigue, they ascended to the top floors to be dazzled by the sight of Botticelli’s incandescent “The Birth of Venus” and “Primavera”. Galvanised and amazed they shouted out the names of the paintings and the peasants who’d arrived on the scene chorused back, “Evero, evero! Botticelli, Venus, Primavera!” 

It’s also thrilling to explore Florence’s crafts – handmade collectibles produced in centuries old traditions despite our global world of mass production. 

From open-air markets to elegant shops, you will find silverware, pottery, fine handmade paper, pens, bookmarks and all manner of stationary, covered in marbled paper and Florentine patterns. You can even learn some of the craft yourself, for a 3 ‘o clock on Friday afternoons, Il Papiro teaches the art of making marbled paper in the tradition of the 12th century.

Then there are the culinary delights of the Mercato Centrale, a gracious 19th century cast-iron structure whose stalls bombards the senses with smells, colour and tantalising tastes. It’s a sensual feast with warm historic links. Baroni, for example, sells Basil vinegar that is 12, 25 or 30 years old, and if that’s not aged enough for you, it’s possible to reserve a bottle of vinegar that is 100 to 150 years old and more refined syrup than the more acidic vinegar most of us know. 

From here, drift to the famed perfumery of Santa Maria Novella where sachets, pot pourris and scented vials will ensure that when you have long departed, the fragrance of Florence will continue to drift through your life, home and cupboards, evoking the fantasy and wonderment of this city of rich art, sensuality and endless delight, and transporting you back to the cradle of the Renaissance.