The story
Stand for a moment in the center of Piazza Santa Maria Novella. As you look around, you see the breathtaking white and green marble facade of the basilica, a masterpiece of the Renaissance. But ignore the church for just a moment and look at the square itself.
This wide, open space wasn't just designed for quiet contemplation or religious processions. For centuries, this was a high-octane arena, a Florentine version of the Roman Circus Maximus. Look toward the two large marble obelisks that stand at either end of the piazza.
Today, they might seem like simple decorative monuments, but they were once the "metae," or the turning posts, for one of the most dangerous and thrilling events in the city’s history: the Palio dei Cocchi. In 1563, Grand Duke Cosimo I de’ Medici, who had a deep obsession with Roman grandeur, established a chariot race to be held every year on the eve of the Feast of St. John the Baptist.
Imagine the scene: temporary wooden stands packed with shouting spectators, the windows of the surrounding palazzi draped with colorful banners, and the air thick with dust. Four chariots, each representing a different district of Florence and painted in distinct colors, would thunder across these stones. They had to circle the square three times, and the most treacherous part of the race was right where those obelisks stand.
Drivers had to whip their teams of horses into a sharp, sliding turn around the stone pillars, often coming inches away from a lethal collision. If you walk closer to the base of one of these obelisks, you’ll notice something charming and unexpected. The heavy stone needles don’t rest directly on their plinths.
Instead, they are carried on the backs of four bronze tortoises. These were cast by the Flemish master Giambologna, one of the greatest sculptors of the late Renaissance. These turtles aren't just a whimsical touch; they represent a favorite Medici motto: "Festina Lente," or "Make Haste Slowly."
It is a beautiful irony that these symbols of slow, steady progress were the very anchors for a race defined by reckless speed. Originally, the obelisks were made of wood, but as the race grew in prestige, they were replaced by the Serravezza marble versions you see today, topped with the golden lilies of Florence. As you stand here, try to hear the phantom rumble of wheels and the frantic gallop of hooves.
While the race ended in the mid-19th century, the energy of those contests remains carved into the very geometry of the square, reminding us that Florence was always a city of both high art and blood-pumping spectacle.