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THE PALIO OF SIENA

By RAYMOND ULLYATI' (St. Edmund Hall, Oxford) AFTER meeting a Sienese alchemist in Hell, Dante turns to Virgil and asks him if there ever was a people so vain as the Sienese, with their love of show and their excessive self- confidence. Perhaps the modern Florentine would be less abusive, but the old animosities and rivalries arc quickly roused by the mention of Montaperti—after Boo years the Florentines can no more forget the bitterness of -defeat than the Sienese the sweets of a bloody victory. Just as Montaperti is an active memory, so the Palio is more than a relic of the traditional popular games of the mediaeval Siena. It is an integral part of the life of the city, having its origins in the past but living in the Sienese delight in colourful spectacle and the Italian capacity for unrestrained excitement and sustained enjoyment.

Siena is divided into seventeen districts, or contrade, which in origin were popular independent associations for the organisation of games and merry-making, and twice a year, on July znd and August 16th, ten of these comrade compete in a horse-race for the Palio (or Pallium), a silk banner richly decorated and a prize of a few shillings. The course is the semi-circle of the Piazza del Campo, whose stone blocks are covered with earth to form a track. The centre of the square, a kind of cobbled amphitheatre, and the peri- meter formed by the shops and cafés which are obscured by tiers of solid plankings, hold the spectators. Three days before the race each contrada is allotted a horse by the Commune, and on that evening the square is packed for the first trial, followed by heated discussions of form. The intense enthusiasm, which lasts until the day after the Palio, is refreshing and astonishing to the phlegmatic Anglo-Saxon. So strong is the loyalty to the contrada that many families divides the wife going back to the contrada in which she was born and the husband to his. Riding bareback, the jockeys also have to cope with the peculiar difficulties of the course, which is run clockwise and which presents two corners almost right angles— one in descent and one in ascent. The first, taken at full gallop, is most dangerous and is protected by mattresses hung on the fences. At this corner it is not unusual for a horse to break a leg and jockeys to take serious falls. Morning and evening for three days preceding the Palio there are trials, but they become mere exercises for the horses and practice for the jockeys rather than races.

Excitement grows. Foreigners passing through the town are infected by the atmosphere and decide to stay rather than proceed immediately to Rome and Florence. The town fills as special trains and buses bring in visitors in thousands, jostling and crowding, noisy and hilarious, in the narrow streets and opening reluctantly to give passage to some motor-car or motor-cycle hopefully and insistently hooting.

After lunch on the day of the Palio the bells of the innumerable churches are rung, and the young folk of the comrade dress for the pageant and historical procession. Each contrada has the name of some animal which it assumed as a symbol centuries ago, each with distinctive flag and rich mediaeval costumes. From all quarters of the town small processions converge on the Cathedral Square, passing by the houses of their particular Prior and Captain to execute a sbandierata, or homage of flags, which are waved in a dexterous and complicated pattern. Preceded by the drummer and two flags walks the Duke, burly and resplendent in armour, supported by two pages bearing his arms. After three more flags there follow the people and a knight in armour on a richly caparisoned horse kd by a squire. It is astonishing what a transformation these bril- liant costumes and wigs make. I was dressed as an ensign-bearer of the Dragon, and in my green, yellow and red looked exactly like some none-too-refined mediaeval squire or Dureresque peasant. Homage is paid at various points in the city, and finally the main procession is formed and passes through crowded streets to the Piazza del Campo. Just outside there is a halt for the third time, for refreshment. The old walls of the mediaeval tavern re-live the gaily coloured scenes of the age in which they were first built, full of bustle, jollity and timelessness, until the deep mellow tone of the great bell of the tower of the Mangia calls the pageant on to the track.

Preceded by a posse of mounted carabinieri in costumes of black and white, the vast procession of five hundred brilliantly costumed --

men and thirty-six horses enters the Campo in four distinct groups, led by the six mace bearers and the bearer of the black and white banner of the city, and followed by eighteen musicians playing the March of the Palio, a rousing tune based on mediaeval melodies. More flags of the ancient State of Siena close the first group. The

ten competing contrade follow, each leading its horse and being received with frantic cheers and applause as it enters the arena. Twelve pages decked in laurel open the third group of the seven districts which are not competing. Throughout the procession the.,, two flag-bearers of each contrada exert themselves to out-do their rivals in their sbandierate, jumping over their flags, throwing them

into the air, catching them between their knees, behind their backs, and never getting them entangled, ending by throwing them high into the air in final salute. Representatives of the eight major guilds of the city, the populace and the six districts which have ceased to exist., close the third section. The chief unit of the fourth group is the carved wagon drawn by two white oxen, which carries the city standard and the Palio. Finally a squadron of soldiers dressed in helmets and leather jerkins and carrying lances brings up the rearguard. This is more than the English carnival ; it is something

essentially sui generic, an artistic, colourful pageant, accompanied by trumpet and drurni, of an authentic past living in the present in its full savour.

The tout of the Campo completed, the whole pageant is arrayed on the wooden tiers in front of the City Hall which is hung with banners and brocades, and there is a final salute of flags before the gun is fired and the horses are led out, restive and excited. Earlier in the afternoon each of the competing horses has been taken into church by its jockey to be blessed. Unaccustomed to being sprinkled with holy water, the horse permits itself sometimes to be less than reverent, but if it relieves itself of its morning meal this is considered a good omen. Only when the race begins do the visitors realise that there is something extraordinary about it. The competing jockeys lash each other and the horses with thick whips, and the results of the

previous evening's negotiations between the " Foreign Ministers " become evident. Alliances have been made between comrade paying to win, being paid not to win, and contracting to prevent a rival winning. Even the jockeys have been known to sell them- selves.

The horses go round the Square three times while the crowd roars, delirious and hysterical. In the densely packed centre, unable to move for the crush, one has the breath pressed out of one's lungs into a shout for one or other of the horses. In the ring-side seats the visitor is thankful they arc so solid. Anything less substantial would collapse. From every window necks crane out ; every balcony and the tops of distant towers are packed, small figures are even perilously clamped to the red-tiled roofs of the

buildings surrounding the Piazza. In two minutes it is all over.

The winning jockey is covered with kisses and the Palio led off in triumph. Sixty thousand people squashed in the Piazza mingle with the fifty thousand who were unable to find a place, not certain whether to commiserate with them for not seeing the Palio or envy their relative freedom of movement. The losing contrade weep openly, while the mocking spirit of the Tuscan is given fret play in the dispatch of Epsom salts and other laxatives to friends in the contrada that came second. Bells are tolled for them and sirens sounded. All night the festivities continue, with glasses of wine offered to strangers in the streets, and up at the Fortress the exhibi- tion of typical Italian wines is more thronged than ever, in some cases with the results you would expect.

This year the small contrada of the Owl carried off its thirty- second Palio. The costumes and armour arc put away, and now Siena has only its buildings, noise and water-shortage to recall the Middle Ages until the next Palio in May—a special one in honour of the Holy Year.