On the day of the race, at four o’clock in the afternoon, two cannon shots gave the signal. All the carriages at once turned out of the road, the spectators fell back into two lines, and a detachment of dragoons cleared the Corso at a rapid gallop. The murmur of the crowd died away into a profound silence.
The horses chosen for the race were held in a line behind a cord stretched towards the column of the People’s Gate. Their foreheads were decorated with plumes, which worried their eyes by waving in front of them; golden spangles were plaited into their tails and manes. Small copper plates and leaden balls armed with steel points were attached to their flanks and croups to goad them on their way; and the effort to frighten them even led to light sheets of tin and stiff paper being fastened on their backs, which, rustling and quivering, [p193] produced the discomfort of a rider without the drawback of weight.
Before the cord fell, the animals, impatient to start, excited by the crowd, uttered loud neighs, pranced about, and produced a clamour which filled the Corso. It frequently happened that one of them would knock its groom down and rush amongst the crowd.
At last the senator of Rome gave the signal. A trumpet sounded, the cord fell, the half-maddened horses started wildly, urged on by the applause of the people as though by whips. Usually the “Berberies” traversed the 800 fathoms of the course in two minutes twenty-one seconds, that is to say that they ran thirty-seven feet per second. In the confusion, if one horse could overtake the competitor which preceded it, it would bite it, kick it, and use every artifice to impede its progress. The arrival of the horses was announced by firing two cannon; to stop them carpets were extended across the end of the street.
In later years the Corso was only a speculation of the horsedealers. The Hippodrome revives the best days of this Roman institution; the epoch when the first families of Rome, the Barberini, the Santa-Croce, the Colonna, and the Borghese entered their horses for the race, the champions of their rivalries and of their colours. Since the managers of the Hippodrome object to injuring the valuable beasts they place in the arena, they have abandoned the practice of harnessing them with spurs and spangles. It is really bare-backed horses, free from all carnival disguise, which they produce in the lists.
The animals have been trained for a long time, placed [p194] before the barriers with a whip to urge them to jump, guided all round the ring by sentinels, who punished any deviation from the course.
Now they know what they are expected to do, and as soon as the bell rings they all start. They reach the barrier, their manes flowing in the wind, their hoofs flying, terrible as the tide, white as the surge which rises on the waves. Ἵππος μετέωρος, said Pindar, describing a horse rearing. It is a brilliant meteor which flies over the barrier, but it is also a crest of foam.
And the pleasure of watching these riderless races is augmented by the good faith, the honesty of the beast, which cannot be suspected of corruption, which strives for victory only. Neither crime nor death can stop them. M. Houcke has told me that he has known some horses to be killed in the [p195] ring by their jealous rivals, and others after the victory have died from fits of apoplexy when they had gone back to the stables.
