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ROM earliest morning there was a thrill in the air, as if of some portentous event about to occur. And well there might be, for Siena the classic, Siena the medieval, was about to celebrate its great annual civic festival, the Palio, a striking pageant inherited from the Middle Ages, still held in the costume of the period, and featured by the running of a strange, almost barbaric, horse race on the historic Campo.

There is no other place in the world. where one may lay hand so palpably on the Middle Ages as in Siena. The architecture, the customs, the very people, have a touch of bygone days. It gives the impression of a segment of the fifteenth century passed down to modern times, with its good and evil, and, above all, with its intense local attachments, practically unchanged.

For upward of four hundred years the little Tuscan city has been organized as it is now, in contrade, or wards, each a distinct and separate entity, though part of the common life. Each still clings to its own individual traditions, its own loves and hates, and is ready to rally to the same flag and colors that it has cherished for centuries.

This gives to Siena a characteristic atmosphere, which more than anything, save its art, has contributed to center upon it the continued interest of the traveler.

THE PALIO A RELIC OF ANCIENT RIVALRY

As to the Palio, it is a remarkable manifestation of that keen, burning rivalry between contrade which has existed since their inception and which time and the passing of events have been unable to allay.

In seeking the origin of this strange horse race we must hail back to the zest for sport, the spirit of gallant contest, and the love for pomp and display so prevalent in the Middle Ages.

The most remote records of Siena tell of jousting and tournaments. The coming of illustrious visitors was ever the occasion for festivals of this nature, and

we read that as far back as 1225 a "noble and fair tilt" took place outside of Porta Camollia.

Later, bullfights were adopted, only to be suppressed in 1590 by Ferdinand I, and races on buffalo-back seem for a time to have taken their place.

There is evidence aplenty, however, that even in early times horse-racing was a favorite pastime of the Sienese. are told, in fact, that in 1492 a horse owned by the famous, or infamous, Cesare Borgia, won an important event, probably the predecessor of the Palio, although the chronicles mention that it was run through the streets instead of on the public square, as now.

The first Palio took place on the Campo in 1605 and has been regularly scheduled since 1651. In its present form, with all the contrade represented, and the distance established at three times around the big square, the race has been held since 1656.

STRANGE RACE PROBABLY HAD

RELIGIOUS ORIGIN

It has been established almost beyond doubt that the Palio was introduced to celebrate a religious anniversary, the feast of Santa Maria Assunta, whose image is depicted on the banner bestowed upon the winner.

At one time Siena's 17 contrade all participated in the Palio, each entering one horse, but, owing to the frequency of serious accidents, experienced through the overcrowding of the narrow track, the number of contestants is now limited to ten. Seven of the contrade are privileged and run by "right," as they express it, while the three others are drawn by lot.

The horsemen ride bareback, in the Palio, armed with a punishing whip, the nerbo, made of twisted, hardened ox sinew and measuring about three feet.

This whip plays an important rôle. In the olden days a long, flexible one was used, and the competitors were allowed to wield it so as to entangle their opponents and throw them; but this practice is now forbidden.

The good Sienese, however, anxious to preserve the joustlike character of the race, have decreed that their champions may belabor one another with the heavy nerbo whenever the chance presents. To prevent fatal injury, the men are permitted to wear metal helmets; but, even so, the flaying weapons sometimes inflict wounds the marks of which are carried for weeks.

A SAVAGE, FANTASTIC RACE

No sooner does the starting gun sound than the excited jockeys begin to ply their whips, and the resultant spectacle may be imagined: Ten high-strung, fear-crazed horses racing furiously around the hard, slippery, stone-paved course; ten riders recklessly urging their mounts to greater

speed and raining vicious blows at each other the while. It is thrilling, savage, fantastic.

Three days before the meet, some 20 horses, voluntarily contributed by private individuals, are brought together and tried out. The ten most evenly matched are selected, and on the eve of the race the ward captains gather at the Palazzo and draw lots for them.

The allotment is made immediately after, and the riders at once take possession, adjourning to the Campo for a practice gallop. There the excitement commences. The horses, strange to the noisy, crowded surroundings, invariably become restive and unmanageable, rearing, backing, kicking, bolting, and causing general pandemonium. Gradually, however, men

and mounts grow better acquainted, and eventually they come to a mutual understanding.

At last the great day dawns and the imperative summons of a sonorous bell tells us it is time to be stirring. The hour is only five, but the city is already in turmoil, as we sally forth under the cloudless sky of an August morning.

The streets are packed from wall to wall, and following the streaming populace, we are led to the votive chapel on the Piazza, a shrine erected in thanksgiving for deliverance from the plague of 1348.

Mass is being celebrated and the little church is crowded with men, only a few women hanging about the outskirts. Over the heads of the worshipers we can see the ten riders, in full colors, kneeling shoulder to shoulder in front of the altar, the bitter rivalry of faction held in check during this brief interval of prayer.

Then the ceremony is over and we are again in the streets, now alive with the subdued roar of mustering thousands. Every familiar language mingles in the general babble; most of the civilized nations seem to be represented in the throng about us; yet on every lip, native or foreign, is but one topic-the Palio.

WE CHOOSE A CHAMPION

We had set out with mild, amused curiosity; but it was impossible to resist the galvanic touch of the throbbing interest on all sides. And presently we were asking ourselves to what quarter of town we belonged; which horse was ours; who was to ride for us; what his colors were? These matters had unexpectedly become of vital importance.

Obviously, it was to the quarter in which we had taken lodgings that we owed allegiance, and we posted ourselves without delay. It proved to be the Contrada dell' Oca, its emblem a goose, and we went at once in search of our favorite.

A few coppers induced a passing lad to conduct us to the place where the horse was stabled, and we caught sight, behind a wire netting, of a glossy, clean-limbed bay, with long, smooth running gear, a fine, intelligent head, and apparently in the pink of condition. We felt elated.

Meanwhile our young escort had informed us that the racers were shortly to

be blessed by the priest, the ceremony to take place in churches of the respective wards; so we sauntered over to the Oratory of Santa Caterina, where our champion would be taken.

It was not long before the chaplain came from the sacristy, book in hand, surplice and stole over his cassock, and the altar tapers were then lighted. Almost immediately a commotion in the crowd announced the approach of the horse, and the priest urgently pleaded for silence. that the nervous animal might not be frightened.

In the perfect stillness that followed we heard the stamp of hoofs on the pavement, then at the threshold, and the beautiful creature was led up the aisle to the altar steps by the rider himself. The noble beast stood motionless, while the Latin benediction was read, then holy water was sprinkled over his proud head, and the ceremony was over.

But the picture remains with me to this day-strange, extraordinary, even weird. I can still see the shadowy altar starred with lights, the shining coat of the gallant racer, and the man, magnificent in his parade dress of green velvet slashed with white satin, vermilion undersleeves and vest, feathered cap crushed in hand— a striking group, like a scrap of the past enacted before us in some magic way.

PARADERS WEAR SIXTEENTH-CENTURY

COSTUMES

It was now time for the procession of the delegations from the various contrade. It has been the usage ever since the sixteenth century for these contrade to appear in full regalia on all momentous occasions. Each still disports the gorgeous costumes of the period and bears the ward banner, blazoned with the device originally adopted, such as the Lion, the Caterpillar, the Goose, the Ram, etc., which give to the various districts the names by which they are known. The procession, of course, has remained an important feature of the Palio.

We repaired to the Campo to watch the parade, and it proved an imposing sight.

Each contrada formed a separate group, preceded by a drum major, who set the pace and signaled the stops and advances, as required.

Behind him marched two ensign-bearers,