FRANCE.
AMONG the archives preserved in the Chambre des Comptes in Paris there was at one time an account, dated 1392, which said, “Paid to Jacquemin Gringonneur, Painter, for three packs of cards of gold and different colours, ornamented with different devices for the King [Charles the Sixth], for his amusement, 50 sols parisis.”
Plate 9.
The game, which was invented merely as an amusement for the deranged King, spread with such rapidity among the people that the Prevôt de Paris, in an ordinance dated Jan. 22, 1397, was obliged to “forbid working people from playing tennis, ball, cards, or ninepins, excepting only on holidays.” Especial notice should be taken of the fact that in a celebrated and oft-quoted ordinance made only twenty-eight years previously by Charles the Fifth, in which all games of hazard were enumerated, no allusion whatever was made to cards, while in the fifteenth century they are always carefully mentioned when games of chance are enumerated. By this we can place approximately the date of their invention or introduction into France.
Although packs of Tarots have survived since the fifteenth century, and one in particular will be described, there are no existing specimens of the original Tarots (Tarocchi, Tarocchini); but there is a pack which was engraved by a burin (or graving-tool), that probably was executed about the year 1460, which is known to be an exact copy of the first Tarots.
Rafael Maffie, who lived at the end of the fifteenth century, left in his “Commentaries” a description of Tarots, which were then, said he, “a new invention;” but he probably was speaking relatively of the origin of cards. From his description and the documents of others it is clear that the pack of Tarots was composed of four or five suits, each one of the ten cards being numbered in sequence, and displaying as their symbols the Denari, the Bastoni, the Coppe, and the Spade; and these suits were headed by the court cards of King, Knight, and Knave, to which was sometimes added a Queen. Besides these cards, which were en suite, there were others which bore fanciful figures, and which were named Atouts. The Tarots have been so fully described in another place that it is not necessary to repeat the description here.
A very slight knowledge of the history of playing-cards reveals the fact that Tarots were known in France long before the invention of the game of Piquet, which is undoubtedly of French origin; and besides this, the cards which are said to have belonged to Charles the Sixth are Tarots, and must be classed as such. They are preserved in the Cabinet des Estampes de la Bibliothèque Nationale de Paris, and they may be looked upon with respect as being the oldest in any collection, public or private. Although nearly five hundred years of age, they are well preserved.
Besides the Tarot pack, which is supposed to have been one of the three packs that were painted by Gringonneur, there are preserved in the same museum parts of another old pack which show distinctly that they are of a later date. These cards are essentially French, and are not to be classed among the Tarots. There are a King, Queen, and Knave in each suit. Their Saracenic origin may still be traced, as they bear the crescent of the Mussulman instead of the carreau (diamond) of the Frenchman; and the Club is shaped after the Arabic or Moorish fashion, which had four equal branches, like a four-leaved clover, instead of the three leaves that were afterward adopted as the distinctive symbol of the suit.
Another noticeable peculiarity is that the King of Hearts is represented as a monkey covered with hair or skins, and he leans on a knobby staff. The Queen of his suit is dressed in skins like her consort, and in one hand she carries a torch. It would seem natural that the Knave of Hearts should be dressed to correspond with the royal personages belonging to his suit; but instead it is the Knave of Clubs who is represented as covered with hair or dressed in skins, and he carries a knotty stick over one shoulder. A part of another card has been found among those that the book-binder’s knife has separated from the proper body (for these cards, like so many of their kind, once formed part of the binding of a book); and this one shows the legs only of a fourth hairy person. The upper part has unfortunately never been found.
With the exception of these savages, all the other figures of the pack are dressed after the fashion of the court of Charles the Seventh of France. The costume of the Queen of Diamonds resembles that of Marie d’Anjou, his consort. The figures of the Kings, with the exception of the hairy one, are dressed precisely like the pictures of Charles the Seventh or the lords of his court. They wear a velvet hat surmounted by a crown formed of fleurs-de-lis, with a coat opened in front and bordered with ermine. The doublet is tight-fitting, and the boots extremely high. The dresses of the Knaves are copies of those worn by the pages and the sergent-d’armes of the period. One of them wears a plumed cap and a long coat with flowing sleeves. The other Knave is in court dress, and is the complete opposite of his fellow, as he wears a closely fitting doublet. The latter carries a banner on which is displayed the name of the manufacturer, F. Clerc. It seems therefore safe to conclude that these cards are of French origin. And now occurs an interesting question, which is, how it is possible to explain the presence of the savage King, Queen, and Knave among the other court cards, which are all dressed in the height of the fashion of the period of Charles the Seventh; but if the history of the preceding reign is referred to, the probable solution of this enigma will be found.
On the 29th of February, 1392, a grand fête was held in the palace of Queen Blanche, given in honour of the marriage of the Chevalier Vermandois to one of her Majesty’s maids of honour. The King, Charles the Sixth, who had been for some time in a melancholy state of mind which sometimes amounted to madness, was for the time being enjoying a lucid interval, and was induced to enter into a frolic which was proposed by one of his favourite courtiers by the name of Hugonin de Janzay. It was arranged that in this masquerade the King and five of his lords should take part. “It was,” says Juvenal des Ursins, “a momerie of savage men, heavily chained and dressed in justes au corps made of linen which had been greased and covered with hairs, and which was made to fit close to the body.” Froissart, who was an eyewitness of this fête, says that “the six actors in the dance rushed into the ball-room howling and shaking their clattering chains.” As no one was able to recognize the hairy monsters, so well were they disguised, the Duc d’Orleans, the King’s brother, seized a lighted torch from the hands of an attendant, and pressed it so closely against one of these strange people that the light set fire to the linen coat, which blazed up immediately. By great good fortune the King had become separated from his companions, all of whom with only one exception were roasted alive. This lucky chevalier rushed from the room, and flung himself head first into a vat full of water and thus saved his life. Charles indeed escaped; but the horrors of the situation, combined with the terror, fatigue, and grief to which it gave rise, so impressed his already enfeebled mind that he became hopelessly insane.
The Ballet des Ardents left such a vivid impression on the public mind that sixty years later a German engraver made it the subject of a print, so that it is not hazarding an inadmissible guess to fancy that a card-maker of the day should seize upon it for a subject, particularly as the cards of the period were sometimes decorated like the horrible Dance of Death, as if they were intended to awaken in the mind of the roystering player some thoughts which might lead him to dwell on more serious subjects, and by means of the cards to reach persons who might otherwise never be drawn to think of them.
There is another and very important fact which must not be overlooked when we are endeavoring to trace a resemblance between the savages depicted on the cards and the personages of the day. The Queen of Hearts is represented as a wild woman holding a torch; and it may be remembered that Isabella of Bavaria, the wife of Charles the Sixth, had agreed to this fatal masquerade, and had encouraged it by her presence, and that this frolic came very near relieving her of her insane consort. Her accomplice in this scheme was the Duc d’Orleans, her brother-in-law, who may have intentionally set fire to the inflammable clothes of these savages, among whom was the King. The gossip of the day certainly accused these two persons with having designed the masquerade with the hope of ridding themselves of the King, whose life interfered greatly with their infamous projects.
Having described what is perhaps the oldest pack of cards which have been preserved, attention must be drawn to another—or rather a fragment of a pack—which is very little, if any, younger than the set already studied. These cards can be traced back to the same period as the first, and are identified by the costumes of the court. They bear great similarities to the modern cards, and are supposed to have been the Adams and Eves of the card world. These are absolutely the first specimens of the French suit cards; the marks of the pips, Clubs, Hearts, Spades, and Diamonds are here displayed for the first time; and if not the pack rearranged by the French courtier, they must have been manufactured at the same time. In these the Kings, Queens, and Knaves bear attributes as well as symbols. The first-named carry spears, and the Queens flowers, and everything in the pictures reflects the fashions of the period; and in them can be discovered no violation of the laws of heraldry or the customs of chivalry.
Tradition points to this pack as that first used in Piquet. It dethroned the Italian Tarots and the cards of Charles the Sixth, and was the ancestor of the present cards. It is believed that they were the invention of Étienne Vignoles, or La Hire, one of the bravest and most active warriors of the day. M. la Croix declares that this tradition should receive respectful attention, because even a cursory examination of the game of Piquet shows that it could only have been the work of an accomplished knight, or have at least originated in a mind intimately acquainted with chivalrous manners and customs. But this charming French author points to another courtier, a contemporary and friend of Vignoles, who might have made the ingenious discovery or invention which resulted in the overthrow of the ancient Tarots; and this was Étienne Chevalier, secretary and treasurer to the King, and famous for his talent for designing, who was one of the cleverest draughtsmen of his day, and who was perfectly capable of rearranging the pack, introducing a Queen in place of the Vizir or Knight, and adopting symbolic colours and distinguishing devices to mark the suits.
The original cards may perhaps have been imported into France and introduced at court by one Jacques Cœur, whose commercial relations with the East were so extensive that he was even accused of supplying the Saracens with arms. In India the cards represented the game of the Vizir and of War, but under the hands of the royal secretary it became the game of the Knight and of Chivalry. He placed on the cards the unicorn which is often found in old packs; nor did he forget to do honour to Jacques Cœur in substituting les cœurs for les coupes. He changed the deniers (money) to diamonds (or arrow-heads), and spears to spades. He may have adapted his designs from those on the German cards, as they bear hearts like the French packs; and a few strokes of the pencil would convert the acorn of the former into the club of the latter. The affinity between the cards of the two countries is quite apparent, but to whom we owe the invention is undecided.
It was in December, 1581, or in the reign of Henry the Third, that the first laws which fix the standing of the fesseurs de cartes are found. These statutes, which were confirmed by letters-patent in 1584 and 1613, remained in force until the Revolution. When the privileges of the Corporation were confirmed in 1613, a rule was made that the master card-makers should henceforth and forever put their names, surnames, seals, and devices on the Valet de Trifle (Knave of Clubs) in each pack of cards,—a rule which only followed and confirmed an ancient custom, and one which is adopted to the present day.
The modern French cards differ slightly from those used in England and America, as they are smaller, and the edges are rounded and generally gilded. The cards, instead of being perfectly flat, are slightly curved; and this is in order to facilitate shuffling, which is not done in France in the way usually adopted among English-speaking nations, where the pack is divided and laid on a flat surface, and the edges of the cards are lifted and allowed to pass quickly one over the other, in this way distributing or shuffling them very rapidly. The French cards are divided, but held up, and the sides of the two parts pressed together, which shuffles them effectually, but which it is impossible to do if the cards are not curved.