Palazzo Vecchio

Stand still for a moment on the wide stone paving of the Piazza della Signoria. Listen to the footsteps, the pigeons, the low hum of a dozen languages. Then lift your eyes. A rough wall of honey-brown stone rises in front of you, heavy and almost windowless at the base. High above it, a slender tower climbs into the sky, with a clock face and a bell chamber near the top. This is Palazzo Vecchio, and it has watched over Florence for more than seven centuries.

Construction began at the very end of the thirteenth century, around 1299. Tradition credits the design to Arnolfo di Cambio, the same architect linked to the early work on Florence Cathedral. The building was not made for a king or a duke. It was made for the Republic. Its first name was the Palazzo della Signoria, after the small council of citizens who governed the city. Those men lived inside during their short terms of office, almost like guests under lock and key.

Look closely at the top of the walls. The palace wears a crown of square battlements. Now look at the tower. Its battlements are different — they are shaped like a swallow's tail, with a notch cut into each one. In medieval Italy, these two shapes were often read as political signs. Square ones were linked to the Guelphs, who supported the Pope. Swallowtails were linked to the Ghibellines, who supported the Emperor. One building, two shapes... a small reminder of a divided age.

The tower itself carries a quiet surprise. It is not set over the centre of the palace. It stands off to one side, and it rests partly on the foundations of an older tower that stood here before. The builders reused what they found rather than clearing the ground. For centuries, its great bell called citizens to assemblies and warned them of danger. On a clear day, the view from the top reaches across the red-tiled roofs to the dome and the hills beyond.

Now turn to the doorway. On the left side stands a marble giant — David, by Michelangelo. But this is a copy. The original stood on this spot for more than three centuries, until it was moved indoors in 1873 to protect it from weather. Today it lives in the Accademia gallery. To the right, a heavier, muscular figure wrestles a fallen man. This is Hercules and Cacus, by Baccio Bandinelli. Florentines in his own day mocked it openly.

A little to your left, at the corner of the palace, water splashes around a pale marble sea god. This is the Fountain of Neptune, made by Bartolomeo Ammannati in the sixteenth century. Locals gave the white figure a nickname — Il Biancone, which means roughly 'the big white one'. It was not entirely a compliment. Around the base, look for the bronze figures of nymphs and sea creatures. Many visitors find them more lively and graceful than the giant above them.

Here is a detail that most people walk straight past. Near the fountain, set into the paving, there is a round plaque. It marks the place where the preacher Girolamo Savonarola was executed in 1498. A few years earlier, this fiery friar had held enormous power in Florence. He preached against luxury and organised bonfires of vanities, where people burned mirrors, paintings, and fine clothes. In the end, the city turned against him, here in this square.

In 1540, everything changed. Cosimo I de' Medici, the new ruler of Florence, moved his household into the old republican palace. He wanted the seat of the old government to become the seat of his own power. Later, the Medici family moved across the river to the Palazzo Pitti. From that point, people began to call this building the Palazzo Vecchio — simply, the Old Palace. The name stayed, and it is the name we use today.

Step through the door and you enter the first courtyard. After the severe stone outside, it feels like a sudden change of mood. The columns are covered in gilded stucco, and the walls carry painted views of cities. These decorations were made for a royal wedding in 1565, when Cosimo's son Francesco married Joanna of Austria. The painted cities are Austrian, chosen so the young bride would feel welcome. In the middle, a small fountain holds a winged boy holding a fish.

Upstairs waits the largest room in the palace, the Hall of the Five Hundred. It was built at the end of the fifteenth century for the city's Great Council. The republic then asked two great artists to paint battle scenes on its walls — Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo. Neither work was ever finished. Leonardo's paint did not dry properly, and Michelangelo was called away to Rome. Later, Giorgio Vasari covered the walls with huge battle frescoes of his own.

That lost Leonardo painting has inspired a modern mystery. High up on one of Vasari's frescoes, a tiny painted flag carries two words — cerca trova, meaning 'seek and you shall find'. Some researchers have suggested that Leonardo's work may survive behind Vasari's wall. This remains a theory, not a proven fact. Still, it adds a strange thrill to the room. The hall also served the nation: when Florence was briefly the capital of Italy in the 1860s, parliament met here.

The rooms beyond hold more quiet treasures. One small chamber is lined with painted cabinet doors showing maps of the known world, with a large globe at its centre. Elsewhere, the palace keeps a death mask traditionally linked to Dante, the poet who was exiled from this city. And Niccolò Machiavelli, the famous political writer, worked in these offices as a secretary of the republic. Some of his thinking about power took shape inside these very walls.

It is worth remembering that Palazzo Vecchio is not only a museum. It is still the town hall of Florence. City officials work here, and couples still come to be married in its rooms. The building that once housed the republic's council still serves the people of the city. Few seats of power anywhere have stayed in use for so long. The stone you are looking at has seen merchants, preachers, dukes, and modern mayors.

Before you move on, step back a few paces and look at the whole façade once more. Notice how the morning or evening light warms the stone, and how the tower's shadow moves across the square. Listen to the fountain behind you. As you walk away, glance back over your shoulder. The tower will follow you through the narrow streets, appearing between the rooftops — as it has for every Florentine who came before you.