No. 137. The Minstrels of Beverley.
CHAPTER X.
AMUSEMENTS AFTER DINNER.—GAMBLING.—THE GAME OF CHESS.—ITS HISTORY.—DICE.—TABLES.—DRAUGHTS.
The dinner hour, even among the highest ranks of society, was, as I have stated, early in the forenoon; and, except in the case of great feasts, it appears not to have been customary to sit long after dinner. Thus a great part of the day was left on people’s hands, to fill up with some description of amusement or occupation. After the dinner was taken away, and the ceremony of washing had been gone through, the wine cup appears to have been at least once passed round, before they all rose from table. The Camden Society has recently published an early French metrical romance (“Blonde of Oxford,” by Philippe de Reimes), which gives us a very interesting picture of the manners of the thirteenth century. Jean of Dammartin is represented as the son of a noble family in France, who comes to England to seek his fortune, and enters the service of an earl of Oxford, as one of the esquires in his household. There his duty is to attend upon the earl’s daughter, the lady Blonde, and to serve her at table. “After the meal, they wash their hands and then go to play, as each likes best, either in forests or on rivers (i.e. hunting or hawking), or in amusements of other kinds. Jean goes to which of them he likes, and, when he returns, he often goes to play in the chambers of the countess, with the ladies, who oblige him to teach them French.” Jean does his best to please them, for which he was qualified by his education, “For he was very well acquainted with chamber games, such as chess, tables, and dice, with which he entertains his damsel (Blonde); he often says ‘check’ and ‘mate’ to her, and he taught her to play many a game:”—
De jus de cambres seut assés,
D’eschés, de tables, et de dés,
Dont il sa damoisele esbat;
Souvent li dist eschek et mat;
De maint jeu à juer l’aprist.
—Blonde of Oxford, l. 399.
This is a correct picture of the usual occupations of the after-part of the day among the superior classes of society in the feudal ages; and scenes in accordance with it are often found in the illuminations of the mediæval manuscripts. One of these is represented in the engraving ([No. 138]) on the following page, taken from a manuscript of the fifteenth century, containing the romance of the “Quatre Fils d’Aymon,” and preserved in the Library of the Arsenal, in Paris. In the chamber in front a nobleman and one of the great ladies of his household are engaged at chess, while in the background we see other ladies enjoying themselves in the garden, which is shown to us with its summer-house and its flower-beds surrounded with fences of lattice-work. It may be remarked, that the attention of the chess-players is withdrawn suddenly from their game by the entrance of an armed knight, who appears in another compartment of the illumination in the manuscript.
Of the chamber games enumerated in the foregoing extract from the romance of “Blonde of Oxford,” that of chess was no doubt looked upon as by far the most distinguished. To play well at chess was considered as a very important part of an aristocratic education. Thus, in the “Chanson de Geste” (metrical romance) of Parise la Duchessse, the son of the heroine, who was brought up by the king in his palace, had no sooner reached his fifteenth year, than “he was taught first his letters, until he had made sufficient progress in them, and then he learnt to play at tables and chess,” and learnt these games so well, “that no man in this world was able to mate him:”— Quant l’anfès ot xv. anz et compliz et passez,
Premiers aprist à lettres, tant qu’il en sot assez;
Puis aprist-il as tables et à eschas joier,
It n’a ome an cest monde qui l’en peust mater.
—Parise la Duchesse, p. 86.
In this numerous cycle of romances, scenes in which kings and princes, as well as nobles, are represented as occupying their leisure with the game of chess, occur very frequently, and sometimes the game forms an important incident in the story. In “Garin le Loherain,” a messenger hurries to Bordeaux, and finds count Thiebaut playing at chess with Berengier d’Autri. Thiebaut is so much excited by his news, that he pushes the chess-board violently from him, and scatters the chess-men about the place— Thiebaus l’oït, à pou n’enrage vis,
Li eschés boute, et le jeu espandit.
—Garin le Loherain, ii. 77.
So, in the same romance, the emperor Pepin, arriving at his camp, had no sooner entered his tent than, having put on a loose tunic (bliaut), and a mantle, he called for a chess-board, and sat down to play— Eschés demande, si est au jeu assis.
—Ib., ii. 127.
Even Witikind, the king of the pagan Saxons, is represented as amusing himself with this game. When the messenger, who carried him news that Charlemagne was on the way to make war upon him, arrived at “Tremoigne,” the palace of the Saxon king, he found Witikind playing at chess with Escorfaus de Lutise, and the Saxon queen. Sebile, who was also well acquainted with the game, looking on— A lui joe as eschas Escorfaus de Lutise;
Sebile les esgarde, qi do jeu est aprise.
—Chanson des Saxons, i. 91.
Witikind was so angry at this intelligence, that his face “became as red as a cherry,” and he broke the chess-board to pieces— D’ire et de mautalant rugist comme cerise;
Le message regarde, le geu peçoie et brise.
In the “Chanson de Geste” of Guerin de Montglaive, the story turns upon an imprudent act of Charlemagne, who stakes his whole kingdom upon a game of chess, and losing it to Guerin, is obliged to compound with him by surrendering to him his right to the city of Montglaive, then in the possession of the Saracens.
No. 138. A Mediæval after-dinner Scene.
These “Chansons de Geste,” formed upon the traditions of the early Carlovingian period, can only of course be taken as a picture of the manner of the age at which they were composed, that is, of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, and we know, from historical evidence, that the picture is strictly true. At that period chess certainly was what has been termed the royal game. The celebrated Walter Mapes, writing in the latter half of the twelfth century, gives a curious anecdote relating to tragical events which had occurred at the court of Britany, apparently in the earlier part of the same century. Alan of Britany, perhaps the last of the name who had ruled over that country, had, at the suggestion of his wife, entrapped a feudatory prince, Remelin, and subjected him to the loss of his eyes and other mutilations. Remelin’s son, Wigan, having escaped a similar fate, made war upon Alan, and reduced him to such extremities that, through the interference of the king of France, he made his peace with Wigan, by giving him his daughter in marriage, and thus for many years the country remained in peace. But it appears that the lady always shared in her father’s feuds, and looked with exulting contempt on her father’s mutilated enemy. One day she was playing with her husband at chess, and, towards the end of the game, Wigan, called away by some important business, asked one of his knights to take his place at the chess-board. The lady was the conqueror, and when she made her last move, she said to the knight, “It is not to you, but to the son of the mutilated that I say ‘mate.’” Wigan heard this sarcasm, and, deeply offended, hurried to the residence of his father-in-law, took him by surprise, and inflicted upon him the same mutilations which had been experienced by Remelin. Then, returning home, he engaged in another game with his wife, and, having gained it, threw the eyes and other parts of which her father had been deprived on the chess-board, exclaiming, “I say mate, to the daughter of the mutilated.” The story goes on to say that the lady concealed her desire of vengeance, until she found an opportunity of effecting the murder of her husband.
We need not be surprised if, among the turbulent barons of the middle ages, the game of chess often gave rise to disputes and sanguinary quarrels. The curious history of the Fitz-Warines, reduced to writing certainly in the thirteenth century, gives the following account of the origin of the feud between king John and Fulk Fitz-Warine, the outlaw:—“Young Fulk,” we are told, “was bred with the four sons of king Henry II., and was much beloved by them all except John; for he used often to quarrel with John. It happened that John and Fulk were sitting all alone in a chamber playing at chess; John took the chess-board and struck Fulk a great blow. Fulk felt himself hurt, raised his foot and struck John in the middle of the stomach, that his head went against the wall, and he became all weak and fainted. Fulk was in consternation; but he was glad that there was nobody in the chamber but they two, and he rubbed John’s ears, who recovered from his fainting-fit, and went to the king his father, and made a great complaint. ‘Hold your tongue, wretch,’ said the king, ‘you are always quarrelling. If Fulk did anything but good to you, it must have been by your own desert;’ and he called his master, and made him beat him finely and well for complaining.” Similar incidents recur continually in the early romances I have just quoted as the “Chansons de Geste,” which give us so vivid a picture of feudal times. A fatal quarrel of this kind was the cause of the feud between Charlemagne and Ogier le Danois. At one of the Easter festivals of the court of Charlemagne, the emperor’s son, Charles, and Bauduin, the illegitimate son of Ogier, went to play together. Bauduin and young Charles took a chess-board and sat down to the game for pastime. “They have arranged their chess-men on the board. The king’s son first moved his pawn, and young Bauduin moved his aufin (bishop) backwards. The king’s son thought to press him very hard, and moves his knight upon the other aufin. The one moved forward and the other backward so long, that young Bauduin said ‘mate’ to him in the corner:”— Il et Callos prisent un esquekier,
Au ju s’asisent por aus esbanier.
S’ont lor esches assis sor le tabler.
Li fix au roi traist son paon premier,
Bauduinés traist son aufin arier.
Li fix au roi le volt forment coitier,
Sus l’autre aufin a trait son chevalier.
Tant traist li uns avant et l’autre arier,
Bauduinés li dist mat en l’angler.
—Ogier de Danemarche, l. 3159.
The young prince was furious at his defeat, and, not content with treating the son of Ogier with the most insulting language, he seized the chess-board in his two hands, and struck him so violent a blow on the forehead, that he split his head, and scattered his brains over the floor. In a well-known illuminated manuscript of the fifteenth century, in the British Museum (MS. Reg. 15 E. vi.), containing a copy of the romance of “Ogier le Danois,” this scene is represented in an illumination which is copied in our cut [No. 139]. Similar incidents are rather common in these old romances. In that of “Parise la Duchesse,” her young son, brought up as a foundling at the court of the king of Hungary, becomes an object of jealousy to the old nobles. Four of the sons of the latter conspire to murder him, and it is arranged that they shall invite him to go and play at chess with them in a retired cellar, and, having secretly provided themselves with knives, insult him, in order to draw him into a quarrel, and then stab him to death. “Hugues,” they said, “will you come with us to play at chess? you may gain a hundred francs on the gilt chess-board, and at the same time you will teach us chess and dice; for certainly you know the games much better than any of us.” Hugues seems to have been conscious of the frequency of quarrels arising from the game, for it was not until they had promised him that they would not seek any cause of dispute, that he accepted their invitation. They then led him into the cellar, and sat down at the chess-board. “He began by playing with the son of duke Granier; and each put down a hundred francs in coined money; but he had soon vanquished and mated them all, that not one of them was able to mate him:”— Au fil au duc Graner comença à juer;
Chascuns mist c. frans de deniers moniez;
Mais il les a trestoz et vancus et matez,
Que il n’i ot i. sol qui l’an poüft mater.
—Parise la Duchesse, p. 105.
Hugues, in kindness, offered to teach them better how to play, without allowing them to risk their money, but they drew their knives upon him, and insulted him in the most outrageous terms. He killed the foremost of them with a blow of his fist, and seizing upon the chess-board for a weapon, for he was unarmed, he “brained” the other three with it. We learn from this anecdote that it was the custom in the middle ages to play at chess for money.