Civil engineering is the standard example for programming when it comes to building reliable structures, reliably (i.e. without having the first two attempts crumble). If impressively bad luck or criminal negligence do not interfere, what civil engineers build with modern materials, stands. This book is about a time when this was very much not so, and would also stay that way for a while. Florence, a city-state that got rich from wool trade, wanted to build a grand cathedral in order to display its wealth, and also to shield itself from Black Death (which wiped out four-fifths of Florence’s population in 1348), as the thinking at the time was that religious buildings and artefacts were a safeguard against it. A new, grand cathedral was designed by Arnolfo di Cambio, with a vaulted dome that would rival those in other cities in the Italian peninsula. Two smaller churches were razed to make space for it, and the foundation stone was laid in 1296. Construction of the cathedral continued for a very long time, until 1418, during which a new name was agreed on: Santa Maria del Fiore, meaning Saint Mary of the Flower. Di Cambio had foreseen an octagonal dome in the form of a “pointed fifth” arch instead of a semicircular one. It was also supposed to be built without external butresses, as in Gothic churches, as these were seen as “ugly and awkward” in Italy at the time. At this point it became clear, however, that there was no one around who knew how to build a such a dome, and hence the construction came to a halt.

“One who knows how to build a dome” would be, in our times, a civil engineer. Ross King calls Brunelleschi an architect, and later talks about his elevating the status of the architect, but Brunelleschi’s job description, also taking into account that he designed a number of mechanical devices for the project, would in my opinion land much closer to an engineer. The fact that it was another architect named Neri di Fioravanti whose design was the blueprint for the dome also lands credibility to this titel. In any case, the rise of the engineer as someone who can reliably build and maintain a technical construct is a relatively new invention, and during the construction of Santa Maria del Fiore, the title just didn’t exist. On the one side, we have the stone masons, who come from the lowest ranks of society, have working knowledge of building materials and methods, but cannot come up with new designs, nor read the complex diagrams made by architects. On the other side, we have people like the protagonist of this book, Filipo Brunelleschi (but also his main rival in this project, Lorenzo Ghiberti), who apprenticed as goldsmiths, having learned the skills to work with complex and new designs and materials, and then worked their way up into all kinds of arts, ending at architecture and what we would now call engineering. And between these two kinds of people, there was the capemaestro, whose job was to supervise the construction and translate back and forth between the two groups.

Opera del Duomo, the office responsible for financing and steering the construction of the cathedral had an interesting way of operating: For every key challenge, they ran a competition. Brunelleschi, not feeling satisfied with his training, had gone to Rome to study the various buildings such as the Pantheon, measuring their dimensions to re-learn the “lost art” of building huge but firm domes. After coming back to Florence, he joined the first Opera competition, the one that required providing a model for the dome, as a blueprint of how to build it. He submitted a large, elaborate model he had built with help from a team of craftsmen, one into which one could walk and inspect from the inside. Even then, he didn’t receive the direct assignment, nor the 200 florins prize money promised, but a capomaestro position (along with two others) and a monthly salary. Having accepted the conditions, he could now face the daunting task: The dome he was supposed to build was massive in size –the width as well as the height. Additionally, it was not possible to use an internal scaffold (a “centering”), as there was not enough timber for such a huge structure. In view of the challenges, the project was handed to the capomaestri under the provision that “any constructional difficulties could be solved only by means of ‘practical experience’” (p. 57).

A very interesting aspect of the building project is that Brunelleschi had to invent the tools with which the dome was built. Just as civil engineers didn’t exist, mechanical engineers did not exist either, meaning he couldn’t just rent a building crane to hoist the heavy stones to the height of approximately 100 meters of the cupola. To procure such a crane, the Opera did what it knew best, and started another competition. Brunelleschi took the matters in his own hand and designed a crane, somehow using techniques that weren’t known to builders of the time. Where he got the inspiration for this crane remains a mystery, according to the author. I would assume that his education in watchmaking came handy in such a task, but it is a daunting achievement in any case. This first crane, known as the ox-hoist as it was driven by oxen, was complex mechanism consisting of drums, pulleys, screws and gears, enabling operation in both directions without unyoking the animals. Once this first crane was designed and built, another challenge arose: The stones lifted to the cupola had to be moved laterally, to their required position in the dome. This meant another competition by the Opera, which Brunelleschi won with a design so sturdy and useful that it actually outlived him. Interestingly, there is a direct line from Brunelleschi to the best-known Florentine artist-engineer, Leonardo da Vinci, the latter having drawn the lateral crane in his notebooks, and erronously receiving credit for their invention. He saw it in action when the bronze ball manufactured in the workshop where he was apprenticing was lifted to the top of the dome, finishing the cathedral’s construction.

If you spend even a little time in or around technical projects, you know how much personal strife is inherent in these undertakings. They are as human as any other ad-hoc organization, taking cover behind the technical facade, and creating the expectation they should be simpler, more, well, technical, a topic handled in Aramis, or The Love of Technology by Bruno Latour. This “project” is no different, and maybe even more so because the feuds are personalized to a degree we have come to forget, or at least ignore. Brunelleschi was one of three people who lead the construction of the dome, although he is solely responsible for the technical details. These three capomaestri constantly quarrelled among each other, each party resorting to various tricks and guile. At one point, Brunelleschi feigned illness and stayed away from the construction site at a critical phase, leaving the oversight to his rival Ghiberti. The latter had to concede, after a couple of failed attempts, that he was not up to the task of continuing what Brunelleschi started, whereupon Brunelleschi staged a triumphal return to the construction site and had his salary raised three-fold. In retaliation, his rivals lodged a complaint with the Opera on how he allegedly deviated from the official plans, raising the dome to a height below what was agreed on. These tricks and games go back and forth the whole time, with the parties trying to pull the project and the Opera to their side, and extract more financial gain from the project.

Although his financial and social status was on the rise thanks to his successes with the cathedral construction, Brunelleschi suffered a number of calamities until the completion of the dome, some caused by his rivals, but mostly because of his own self-confidence and overreach. He designed a barge to transport marble for the cathedral, for example, although his experience in this area was limited. The barge ended up sinking together with its cargo, causing immense financial loss to Brunelleschi. Shortly after this adventure, Florence came under attack from the forces of the Duke of Milan, Filippo Maria Visconti. His involvement in this war was building a dam on a river to change its course, and flooding the camp of the enemy. This attempt also led to a catastrophe when the dam collapsed and flooded the Florentine camp, causing huge embarassment and even more damage to his reputation. Despite these personal disasters, Brunelleschi not only experienced the consecration of the cathedral in 1436 by the Pope, he actually went on to join and win two more competitions from the Opera. The first of these was the lantern that was to be placed on top of the dome. This lantern was to be built from marmor, and required a significant amount of material to be transported upwards, calling for, you guessed it, another competition for a crane for the lantern (a competition within a competition, you could say). Unfortunately, Brunelleschi died a short time after the construction of the lantern started, not seeing the completion of the whole building.

As Brunelleschi’s dome is a marvel of technical ingenuity, there are many rather detailed technical discussions in the book. These range from the construction tools, various materials such as wood, brick and stone, how materials were transported to the construction site, to how bricks were layed. At times these descriptions are difficult to follow, especially if they involve mechanical images one has to construct from text in one’s mind. In these descriptions, more detailed diagrams with proper labeling would have been rather useful. I have to admit that I frequently just glossed over these, and simply assumed that Brunelleschi was indeed a genius, and came up with improbable inventions. The situation was exacarbated for me by the decision to use imperial units exclusively, which are completely meaningless to my continental European habits. Additionally including the metric values would have immensely helped. One thing that was rather enjoyable was how Ross King connected Brunelleschi and the dome to more general European history. How da Vinci observed Brunelleschi’s designs was mentioned already; another interesting arc is the lantern enabling, due to its height, more detailed observation of sun’s trajectory in the sky, thanks to an apparatus Toscanelli, a mathematician friend of Brunelleschi’s, placed at the lantern’s base. These observations led to more precise tables and instruments for navigation, which in turn enabled better and more extensive maps. Inspired by these advances, Toscanelli wrote a letter to the Portuguese king, urging him to finance an expedition that travelled west to find a new itinerary to China. The king did not follow this idea, but the letter was seen by one Christopher Columbus, who got in touch with Toscanelli, and the rest is history.

A historical perspective to technology and engineering can be inspiring and humbling for everyone, but especially those working with modern technology. This simple but satiating book definitely delivers that perspective.

Rating: Seven Hagia Sophia’s out of ten.