The last of those games, at which I happened to be present, took place during the short-lived existence of the kingdom of Etruria.[76] They had been abolished long ago on account of the accidents to which they gave rise. The queen’s consent to their revival was obtained with great difficulty. The origin of this struggle cannot be fixed with any degree of certainty, for though it was called ‘a game’ it was in reality a battle. It is more than probable that they dated from the long distant past; according to some, they were Greek and almost as old as the Olympic Games. The Pisans maintain that in the ancient chronicles of their town there is a mention of the names of some champions of Sainte-Marie who formed part of the contingent despatched by their republic to the Crusades. In our days Alfieri has given us a poetical picture of those chivalric contests, with all their perils and the passions they aroused. Pisa is traversed by the Arno; and a handsome marble bridge connects the two quarters of the town. One quarter has its patroness in the Virgin Mary, the other is placed under the protection of St. Anthony. When they celebrated those games in days of old, each side chose three hundred champions to proclaim and maintain the pre-eminence of their patron’s banner against all comers. Those improvised defenders were always selected from among the strongest, the bravest, and most agile young fellows of their quarter. They were clad in armour similar to that worn by their ancestors in the palmy days of the republic. Trained and drilled long beforehand by experienced leaders, they stoutly prepared themselves both for attack and defence. A massive breastplate, a helmet, armlets, and cuish of steel constituted their means of defence; their weapon of offence consisted of a kind of club of hard wood, three feet long; one blow dealt with force and precision was sufficient to disable an adversary. A lowered barrier in the centre of the bridge separated the combatants. At the stroke of three from the cathedral towers, a cannon shot gave the signal, and immediately the barrier was raised. Amidst a furious blast of trumpets, the struggle began, and the blows from the heavy clubs rang on the steel of the breastplates and helmets. That game, almost as barbarous as the times that gave it birth, lasted for three-quarters of an hour. At the discharge of a second shot, the barrier was lowered, and the party which had driven back the other from its position, if but the length of a foot, was proclaimed the victor. Cries of joy rang on the bank that had gained the victory, while a mournful silence attested the defeat and the disgrace of the opposite bank.