_Preparations for the approaching fête.--The procession of the
bridal party to Osterley Park.--The Major and his visitors
superintend the arrangements in the meadow.--The curious
discussions which took place on that occasion.--The origin of
the Swing.--Merry Andrews.--Trajetours, &c.--The dinner at the
Hall.--The learned controversy which was maintained with respect
to the game of Chess._
A month had nearly elapsed since the bridal pair had quitted Overton;
and during this period, the greatest activity had been displayed by the
itinerant corps of Momus, under the superintendence of their manager,
Ned Hopkins. The various show-booths had been erected by their
respective owners with an expedition that might have put many a prouder
architect to shame; the marquees and the temporary rooms had been
completed under the management of Tom Plank; and for those, whose
appetite might hold precedence of the senses of sight and hearing,
ample funds of gratification had been provided by the accomplished
hostess of the “Bag of Nails,” whose grim troop of kettles and
stew-pans had, during the whole of the week, been chirping and
chuckling over the kitchen range, the very cheeks of which had cracked
from yawning. The major now anxiously awaited the arrival of every
post, in expectation of a letter that might announce the day upon which
Henry Beacham and his bride would return to Osterley Park. At length
the long anticipated intelligence was received, that they might be
expected at Overton by four o’clock on the day after the morrow. The
vicar was immediately summoned to a council, and on his arrival,
retired with the major for the purpose of consulting the chronicles of
Holinshed and Froissart, touching certain points of ceremonial that
might guide them in their arrangements for receiving the bride. The
vicar pleaded in favour of the forms that were observed on the occasion
of the public entrance of Queen Isabella into the city of Paris, but
the major objected to the plan, on account of the pageant representing
the siege of Troy; a point upon which the vicar, as may be readily
imagined, most pertinaciously insisted; so that the gentlemen separated
without having arrived at any satisfactory conclusion upon the subject,
and the question was transferred to another jurisdiction. No sooner had
it become known that Mr. and Mrs. Beacham were shortly to arrive, than
the more respectable yeomen of the parish assembled at the village inn,
to concert a plan for receiving them with all due honour, when it was
finally arranged, that the village should be decorated with garlands,
and the May-pole erected on the spot, where its gaudy streamers had for
so many ages annually floated on the breeze of spring. It was farther
resolved, that every person who could furnish himself with a horse,
should attend at a certain spot by the hour of three, in order to
advance in procession, and escort the happy couple through Overton to
Osterley Park. The major, upon receiving these resolutions, issued such
orders as might be necessary for carrying them into effect; he also
signified his desire, that those musicians who had lately arrived for
the impending festivities should be in attendance at the place and hour
that had been fixed upon. The friends of Major Snapwell had already
arrived at the Park; and Overton Lodge was overflowing with visitors.
Tom had also joined his family circle.
At three o’clock on the appointed day, twenty signal guns were
discharged from the Park--the village bells struck up a festive
peal--the flag was hoisted on the spire of the church; and upwards of
forty respectable yeomen, farmers, and tenants, mounted on their horses
and decorated with ribands and flowers, had assembled as an escort.
The church clock chimed the quarter past three, as the carriages of
Major Snapwell and Mr. Seymour, and those of their guests, drawn by
highly decorated horses, entered the village; the peasants immediately
drew back, so as to form an avenue through which the party might pass,
while shouts of gladness rent the air. Each horseman had provided a
large bough of oak or elm, so that the cavalcade in motion appeared
like a moving grove, and reminded Mrs. Seymour of the advance of
“Birnam Wood to Dunsinane.” The carriages, preceded by a band of music,
occupied the van of the procession; then came about fifty village
maidens, each carrying in her hand a basket of flowers; next followed
the horsemen; and the procession was closed by a dense group of
peasants, who had come from all the country round. The vicar appeared
on horseback, bustling in all directions, now conversing with the
major, now with Mr. Seymour; at one time moderating the pace of the
horsemen, and at another, keeping back the pedestrians, whose eagerness
to push forward created an inconvenient crowd in the foremost ranks.
Mr. Twaddleton held in his right hand a wand decorated with ivy leaves,
and which resembled in appearance the thyrsus of Bacchus, except that
the cone on its summit had been replaced by a bunch of roses. This was
a classical conceit; and he fully explained to the major the reason of
his having adopted such a device for his wand of office.
“The rose,” said he, “was dedicated by Cupid to Harpocrates, the god of
silence, to engage him to conceal the secrets of Venus; hence has this
flower ever since been considered as the symbol of silence; for which
reason it was customary to hang a rose over the banqueting-table, to
signify that what was there spoken should be kept private, or ‘under
the rose;’ whence, also, to present, or hold up, this flower to any
person in discourse served, instead of an admonition, to intimate that
it was time for such person to hold his peace. In like manner,”
continued the antiquary, “you will observe that, by virtue of my wand,
I shall impress the obligation of silence upon the crowd, and easily
calm any undue clamour that may arise.”
The cavalcade had advanced little more than half a mile, when the major
suggested the propriety of halting, until his nephew and niece should
arrive; to this proposition the vicar readily acceded, and accordingly
issued the necessary orders.
They had not, however, remained stationary above five minutes, when a
carriage and four were seen at the brow of the hill, advancing in full
speed. A general and simultaneous shout burst from the crowd; upon
which the vicar raised his wand, and all was hushed. How far such an
effect might be attributed to the influence of his wand, we shall leave
the sagacious reader to determine; but the party smiled at so striking
an instance of classical credulity; and Mr. Twaddleton, highly
gratified by his triumph, rode forward to the chariot, which was not
more than two hundred yards distant. It contained Mr. and Mrs. Beacham,
whom the vicar no sooner perceived, than he again raised his wand, and
again witnessed the influence of its spell. The chariot instantly
stopped, and, in the next moment, Mr. Twaddleton was seen in earnest
conversation with the travellers. He informed them that the group they
saw was a cavalcade of villagers, who had been awaiting their arrival
on the road, in order to escort them in rural triumph to Osterley Park.
He then presented Mr. Beacham with a bag of nuts, “that the
bridegroom,” as he said, “might be enabled to comply with the ancient
Roman custom[70] of throwing nuts amongst the boys to be scrambled
for;--_sparge, marite, nuces_, as Virgil has it;--_da nuces pueris_, as
Catullus sings.” Mr. Beacham held the vicar in too much respect to
laugh at his eccentricities, and he therefore accepted the bag, with a
determination to gratify his wishes in so harmless a whim.
Jerry Styles was now directed to forward the two messengers to Osterley
Park; and he accordingly opened a basket, from which flew two carrier
pigeons, who immediately soared into the air, and having attained their
greatest altitude, and remained apparently stationary for a few
seconds, darted off in the direction of Osterley Park; every eye was
steadfastly fixed upon the bird [sic]; and a murmur of satisfaction and
wonder ran through the ranks, as the sagacious animals lessened in the
distance.(52)
The musicians struck up a grand march;--the whole cavalcade was in
motion. Mr. Beacham’s chariot having been drawn on one side of the
road, the carriages and horsemen proceeded to take their stations in
the rear; the company in the former kissing their hands, and waving
their handkerchiefs, while the latter lowered their branches, and
cheered, as they passed.
The damsels, in advance of Mr. Beacham’s carriage, opened their
baskets, and strewed the road with flowers as they moved forward.
“Hark!” exclaimed the major: “the pigeons have arrived at the park, and
my orders have been faithfully obeyed: they are firing a salute.”
“And it has been heard at the village,” said the vicar; “for the bells
have just commenced their peal of welcome.” But we are exhausting the
patience of our readers with the details of a ceremony, in which it is
very probable they may feel but little interest; although we freely
confess that, to ourselves, few pageants have such attractive charms as
those innocent and simple manifestations of genuine feeling which are
to be met with in rural life, where the heart has not yet been chilled
by that benumbing influence of what has been termed “the progress of
civilisation;” and which has exchanged the free and warm impulses of
our nature for cold and studied forms, or for an artful display of
factitious sentiment.
During the progress of the procession through the village, Mr. Beacham
had not been unmindful of the vicar’s request; he poured a shower of
nuts amongst the boys, which occasioned much frolic, and good-humoured
contention; while the peasants caught and cracked them, without any
suspicion of the Roman custom they were assisting to perpetuate.
Having arrived at Osterley Park, the horsemen formed a double line,
through which the several carriages passed. The gates were then closed;
and the vicar, stepping forward, thus addressed the assembled
multitude:--
“Well-beloved friends and parishioners, I am desired by Major Snapwell
to inform you that refreshments have been prepared in the village, of
which you may all partake on your return. Your admission into the park
this evening would interfere with those arrangements which are in
progress for to-morrow’s jubilee: let me, therefore, request that you
will all retire peaceably.”
In compliance with this intimation, the whole assembly,
“With tongues all loudness, and with eyes all mirth,”
after having given three hearty cheers, retired to the village, where
several barrels of beer had been disposed in readiness for the libation.
The vicar, having completed his harangue, rejoined the party at the
park, where its hospitable owner had prepared a sumptuous dinner. It
was, however, proposed that the vicar, with the major, and such of his
guests as wished to inspect the preparations, should previously walk
round the grounds. Tom and his sisters begged that they might be
included in the party; a request which their father readily granted, as
he said that some opportunity might occur for explaining the nature of
those exhibitions which they were to witness on the following day. The
same feeling induced Mr. and Mrs. Beacham and several other visitors to
join the party, hoping that they also might profit from the discourse
which Mr. Seymour intended to hold for the instruction of his children.
The reader will probably be induced, for similar reasons, to accompany
them. If he has attentively read the preceding pages of this work, we
hope he has become convinced that the lessons of youth may occasionally
convey instruction as well as amusement to those of riper years.
Ned Hopkins having been summoned to attend the party, and receive the
final orders of the vicar, they proceeded to the elm-meadow, where the
grand fair was to be held, and in which were disposed a long line of
booths for the motley exhibitions to which they were dedicated.
“What have we here?” exclaimed the major, as he entered the meadow; “a
row of poles!”
“Ned Hopkins,” cried the vicar, “how has it happened that the ropes
have not been affixed to these poles? Have I not said that every
arrangement must be completed this evening? Those poles,” continued the
vicar, addressing himself to Major Snapwell, “are intended for swings,
from which the younger peasants will, doubtless, derive much amusement,
while their sires are engaged, in the adjoining field, by the more
manly exercises of quoits, foot-racing, wrestling, hurling, &c. You
are, of course, aware, gentlemen, that in admitting the swing amongst
the pastimes of the day, I have the support of classical authority: its
origin may be traced to the Icarian games, the celebration of which
consisted in persons balancing themselves on cords attached to two
trees; or in other words, in swinging. They were instituted in
commemoration of the death of Erigone, who no sooner discovered the
murder of her father Icarus, than she piously hung herself at his tomb.”
“It is certainly very curious,” said the major, “to observe how
frequently a popular ceremony or custom has survived the tradition of
its origin; it is thus, for instance, that the fond mother still
suspends the coral toy around the neck of her infant, without being in
the least aware of the superstitious belief from which the custom
sprang (53); and I have little doubt but that we shall to-morrow hear
the chorus of ‘Derry-down’ re-echoed by those who probably never heard
of the Druids, and much less of the choral hymns with which their
groves resounded, at the time of gathering the misletoe.”
“You need not go so far back as the Druids,” said Mr. Seymour; “does
not the housewife place the poker across the grate to draw up the fire,
without ever suspecting that the custom originated from the
superstitious belief that, by thus forming a cross with the bars, the
fire was protected from the malignant influence of witches?--But let us
proceed; for what has yonder stage been erected?”
“That is the _hoistings_, sir,” exclaimed Ned Hopkins, “from which
Giles Gingerly, the celebrated American merry-andrew, will exhibit his
buffoonery, and vend his nostrums.”
“Hoistings! why, Ned, you pronounce the word as though your mouth were
filled with hot pudding,” said the major.
“I ask your pardon, sir,” replied Ned; “but my father would never
suffer me to pronounce it in any other manner; for he always maintained
that _hustings_ was a corruption for _hoistings_, it being a stage upon
which the actor is _hoisted_ or elevated above the surrounding crowd.”
“I believe he is right,” muttered the vicar.
“Papa,” said Tom, “pray tell me what is a merry-andrew.”
“Ask the vicar,” replied his father.
“The mountebank, who united the professions of joculator and physician,
was of ancient date, and during the two last centuries has figured away
with considerable success. He usually appears on a temporary stage, and
prefaces the vending of his nostrums with a pompous harangue; and, the
better to attract the notice of the gaping spectators, he displays some
of the performances practised by the jugglers, while his inseparable
companion, the _bourdour_, exhibits numerous tricks, and puts the
populace in good humour by wit and raillery. The medical fraternity,
known in England by the name of _Merry-andrews_, and who are the
companions of the mountebank, derived their foundation from Dr. Andrew
Boorde, who lived in the reigns of Henry VIII. Edward VI. and Queen
Mary, and was constantly in the habit of frequenting fairs and markets,
at which he harangued the populace: his speeches were extremely
humorous, and occasioned considerable mirth; but, notwithstanding the
infallibility of his nostrums, like Paracelsus, he died with a bottle
of his elixir in his pocket. His successors in the same line naturally
endeavoured to emulate the humour of their master, and hence this whole
class of vagabond tinkers of flesh and bone acquired the generic
appellation of ‘_Merry-andrews_’.”
“And pray what are _nostrums_?” asked Louisa.
“‘_Nostrum_,’ my dear, signifies _our own_, and is applied to any
medicine which is prepared by a secret process, and sold for the
private advantage of an individual; but, since secrecy is never used on
such occasions except as a cloak for imposture, the word very generally
conveys an expression of ridicule or contempt.”
The company proceeded in their inspection.
“What have we there, Ned Hopkins?” said Mr. Seymour, as he pointed to a
booth of larger dimensions than those which surrounded it.
“In that booth, ‘the Emperor of all the Conjurors’ will perform his
wonderful art of ‘sleight-of-hand,’” replied Ned.--“Look at his card of
invitation,” continued the wag--“☞ WALK IN--WALK IN--LADIES AND
GENTLEMEN. HERE ARE MIRACLES IN ANY QUANTITY TO BE SEEN FOR TWO-PENCE,
AND BELIEVED IN FOR NOTHING!!!”
“A lineal descendant of the _Tragetour_ of the fourteenth century,”
observed the vicar; “a class of artists who, with the assistance of
dexterity of execution, and various kinds of machinery, deceived the
eyes of the spectators, and produced such illusions as were usually
supposed to be the effect of enchantment; on which account they were
frequently ranked with magicians, sorcerers, and witches. They were
greatly encouraged in the middle ages, and travelled in large
companies, carrying with them such machinery as was necessary for the
performance of their deceptions.”
“And what may be the etymology of _tragetour_?” asked Mr. Seymour.
“A late ingenious writer supposes it to be derived from _trebuchet_, or
_trap-door_, of which he made frequent use during his performance.”
The company passed to the next booth.
“There,” said Ned, “will be exhibited vaulting, tumbling, jumping
through hoops, balancing, grotesque dances by the clown, and dancing
upon the tight-rope.”
“The tragetour rarely executed this part of the performance himself,”
said the vicar, “but left it to some of his confederates.”
“And yet I should have thought it the most profitable department of the
art,” observed the major; “for it was so patronised as to secure the
reception of its professors into the houses of the nobility. In the
reign of Edward II. a tumbler rode before the King, and so delighted
his Majesty, that he rewarded him with a gratuity of twenty shillings,
a very considerable sum in those days.”
The whole party, having expressed their satisfaction at the genius
which Ned Hopkins had displayed in selecting and arranging the various
kinds of amusement, were conducted by the vicar to a small enclosure at
a short distance from the fair, which he had appropriated to the youths
of the village, who had been trained to perform the “_Ludus Trojæ_,”
according to the description left us by Virgil in the fifth Æneid.
“I shall be curious to witness the sport,” said the major, “for Lazius
asserts, in his commentaries upon the Roman Republic, that the jousts
and tournaments, so much in fashion about two or three hundred years
ago, were indebted for their origin to this game; and that
‘_Tournamenta_’ is but a corruption of ‘_Trojamenta_.’”
“Undoubtedly,” replied the vicar; “and the learned and noble Du Fresne
entertains the same opinion: by some the word has been derived from the
French _tourner_, to turn round with agility; yet the exercises have so
much resemblance, as to prove the one an imitation of the other.”
“Come, come, my good friend,” exclaimed the honest major, “all these
preparations are highly laudable, and will, no doubt, afford
satisfaction to the spectators, for whose amusement they have been
designed; but there are other senses, besides the eye and ear, to be
gratified upon this occasion. I have not yet observed any arrangements
for the dinner.”
“Fear not, major; the awning which has been erected for that purpose is
within sight: observe you not the banners which are floating yonder?”
said the vicar.
“Ay, ay, to be sure I do; and let me tell you, that you have taken up a
very snug position.”
Tables had been arranged, under an awning of canvass, in the form of a
cross, and were capable of accommodating about two hundred persons. On
a platform, somewhat elevated, was another table appropriated to the
major and his guests, on which covers were laid for forty.
“You perceive, major,” said Mr. Twaddleton, as they approached the
scene of future action, “that the fare which has been provided is
simple but substantial, and I trust will be considered as no less
according with English hospitality, than with classical propriety.”
“The beef certainly predominates,” said the major; “and I observe that
most of the joints are roasted.”
“Quite correct, sir; the ox is the animal most frequently spoken of, as
furnishing food for ancient heroes; and you will remember that Homer
rarely mentions any other than _roasted_ meat.”
“I perceive that you have been more miscellaneous in your arrangement
of the upper table.”
“I have placed before you a chine of beef, because Menelaus set that
dish before Telemachus at the marriage-feast of his son.”
“And I rejoice to see a salad for its neighbour,” said the major.
“Ay, truly an _Attic_ salad, with garlic, leeks, and cheese: you no
doubt remember that the poetical salad served up in the comedy of the
Peace of Aristophanes was of this composition,” added the vicar.
“I wish to know what seats are to be appropriated to my young friends
the little Seymours?” said the major.
“I regret extremely to say, that they cannot with propriety join our
party,” replied the vicar, gravely.
“Not join the party! zounds, sir, but I insist upon it;--not join the
party!”--
“Be calm, major; and believe me that I shall feel the privation as
keenly as yourself; but would you countenance a measure, which is
decidedly in opposition to every classical authority? Never, as
Suetonius has expressly declared, did the young Cæsars, Caius and
Lucius, eat at the table of Augustus, until they had assumed the _toga
virilis_.”
“A fig for Suetonius; he is not to be trusted: has it not been said,
that, while he exposed the deformities of the Cæsars, he wrote with all
the licentiousness and extravagance with which they lived? Besides, can
we trust the opinion of a man, on a subject of etiquette, who was
banished from the court for want of attention and respect to the
Empress Sabina? You must produce some better authority, my dear Mr.
Twaddleton: search the Grecian writers; depend upon it that some direct
or implied sanction to the plan is to be discovered; the oracles of old
may generally be so interpreted as to meet the wishes of the
translator.”
“Gently, Major Snapwell; speak not so irreverently of the luminaries of
antiquity; nor expect me to distort passages from their original and
intended significations. An idea, however, has just struck me, which
may, possibly, be turned to your advantage; and yet there are many
difficulties; for it cannot be that this feast has been conducted with
the utmost frugality; and, therefore, must not be compared with the
Lacedemonian ‘_Syssitia_,’ or public entertainments, whither the youths
were obliged, by the lawgiver, to repair as to schools of temperance
and sobriety, and where, by the example and discourse of the elder men,
they were trained to good manners and useful knowledge.”
“A case exactly in point,” exclaimed the major. “Must not the classical
character of our entertainment convey instruction? I vow it runs
parallel in every particular with the Syssitia of Lacedemon; and I
therefore affirm, that it would be illegal, according to the law of
Lycurgus, to prevent the presence of the young Seymours.”
“Your argument has colour, major; I must admit that Mr. Seymour’s
lessons are too valuable to be lost: well, I consent; it shall be a
Lacedemonian entertainment, and my young friends shall be accordingly
accommodated with seats.”
On their return from the banqueting-tables, the party inspected the
preparations for the fire-works, and the ships constructed for the
naumachia; we shall, however, at present decline offering any
description, as we prefer explaining them in operation.
The reader will now be pleased to imagine that the party having
returned to the mansion, had partaken of the hospitable repast which
the major had provided for them; he may farther suppose that tea had
been served up, and the amusements of the evening commenced; for it is
at this moment that the course of our narrative is resumed. Mrs.
Beacham was delighting the assembly by a splendid display of her
musical talents; the major and Mr. Seymour were engaged in a game of
chess.
“There you sit, gentlemen,” exclaimed the vicar, “so absorbed in your
game, as to have remained quite insensible to the sweet sounds with
which Mrs. Beacham has been charming us; but you stand excused, for
Seneca admits the fascinating power of the ‘_ludus latrunculorum_,’ or
game of chess. You no doubt remember the story that he tells us of one
Canius Julius, who, having been sentenced to death by Caligula, was
found by the centurion, when he came to conduct him to execution, so
interested in a game of the ‘_latrunculi_,’ as at first to be
insensible to the summons, and that he did not prepare to depart until
he had counted his men, and desired the centurion to bear witness to
his having one more piece on the board than his adversary, so that the
latter might not boast of a victory after his death.”
“Indeed!” said the major; “but unfortunately for your story, the
ancients were not acquainted with the game of chess.”
“What absurd proposition am I next to expect?” cried Mr. Twaddleton.
“You surely cannot have read the poem to Piso, which some will have to
be Ovid’s, others Lucian’s: but no matter; it is an ancient poem, and
accurately describes the game of ‘_latrunculi_.’ I myself believe, from
a particular line in Sophocles, that chess was invented by Palamedes,
at the siege of Troy; although Seneca attributes it to Chilon, one of
the seven Grecian sages. My friend Mr. Seymour, who is, upon all
occasions, desirous of imparting wisdom through the medium of games,
and of ‘turning sport into science,’ will no doubt agree with those who
fancy that it was contrived by Pyrrhus, King of Epirus, as a method of
instructing his soldiers in the military art; and I must admit that the
game expresses the chance and order of war so very happily, that no
place can lay so just a claim to its invention as the camp: ‘_ludimus
effigiem belli_,’[71] as Vida says.”
“Check to your king!” cried the major; “while you are considering of
the best way to get his majesty out of the scrape, I will endeavour to
extricate the vicar out of the quagmire in which he is floundering. My
dear Mr. Twaddleton,” continued the major, “you speak as if it were an
admitted fact that the ‘_ludus latrunculorum_’ was synonymous with our
chess. I admit that it was a game played with _Tesseræ_ or squares, and
_Calculi_ or pieces; but it does not follow that it must have been
chess; indeed, the learned Dr. Hyde, whose researches into Oriental
games are as much distinguished for accurate discrimination as for
profound scholarship, considers it to have resembled our
_draughts_.”[72]
“You are to move, major,” said Mr. Seymour.
“Then I shall take your castle, and open a fresh battery upon the
vicar,” replied Major Snapwell.
“So you may,” cried Mr. Twaddleton, “but you will not easily drive me
from my position; supported as I am by Vossius and Salmasius, and an
army of valiant combatants.”
“The learned Hyde has endeavoured to prove that chess was first
invented in India, and passed from thence to Persia and Arabia.(54)
Fabricius considered it a Persian game, and I must say that I am
inclined to coincide with him. The terms in present use may evidently
be traced to an Oriental source. _Schach_, in the Persian language,
signifies king, and _schachmat_, whence our _check-mate_, the king is
dead, the original words having been transformed by progressive
changes; thus we have _schach_, _echecs_, _chess_; and by a whimsical
concurrence of circumstances, have arisen the English words _check_,
and _exchequer_.”
“I take your _queen_,” cried Mr. Seymour.
“Ay; and I take a _bishop_ in return,” said the major.
“Well,” observed the vicar, “if an Oriental nation really gave origin
to the game, it could not, at all events, have been China; since the
policy of that people is to exclude females from every kind and degree
of influence and power, whereas the _queen_ at chess is a powerful and
important piece.”
“You must not lay too much stress upon the names of the several
pieces,” observed the major, “since they have varied in different ages
and countries. The castle is sometimes called the _rook_, from the
Italian word _rocca_, which signifies a fortress placed on a rock: the
piece which we call the _Bishop_ has been termed by English writers
_alphan_, _aufin_, &c. from an Arabic word, signifying an elephant;
sometimes it was named an _archer_; by the Germans, the _hound_ or
_runner_; by Russians and Swedes, the _elephant_; by Poles, the
_priest_; and by the French, at a very early period, the _fou_ or
_fool_; the reason of this last appellation seems to be, that as this
piece stands on the sides of the king and queen, some wag of the times
styled it the _fool_, because anciently royal personages were commonly
thus attended, from want of other means of amusing themselves.”
“You cannot thus account for our term _bishop_,” observed Mr. Seymour,
“as our kings and queens have never had such attendants.”
“Nor is it very easy to ascertain the period at which it was
introduced,” replied the major; “in Caxton’s time it was styled the
_elphyn_. I should think it probable that the change of name took place
after the Reformation.”
“It is probable that the pieces not only underwent changes in name, but
changes in value or power,” observed Mr. Seymour, “as the game
descended through different ages and countries.”
Mrs. Beacham, who had been for some time listening with much interest
to the curious discourse we have just related, here ventured to ask a
question.
“As you appear to have taken some trouble to ascertain the origin of
this game, you can perhaps inform me at what period it was introduced
into England.”
The major replied, that the learned Hyde supposed it to have been first
known in our country about the time of the Conquest; but that Mr.
Barrington believed it to have been introduced during the thirteenth
century, upon the return of Edward I. from the Holy Land, where he
continued so long, and was attended by so many English.
“It is certain that our ancestors played much at chess before the
general introduction of cards,” observed the vicar, “as no fewer than
twenty-six English families have emblazoned chess-boards and
chess-rooks in their arms, and it must therefore have been considered a
valuable accomplishment.”
“Cards,” observed the major, “must have been known in England previous
to the time of Edward IV.; since a statute was passed in that reign
against their importation; but they did not become general for many
years, and the progress of the custom appears to have been extremely
slow.”
“Check,--and mate!” exclaimed Mr. Seymour.
“Upon my word, I have lost the game. Mr. Twaddleton, I lay this to your
account,” said the major; “you ought not, sir, to have intruded your
antiquarian discussions at such a time.”
“You have lost the game, major, because, like Charles XII. of
Sweden,[73] you are too fond of advancing your king; but it is quite
natural that you should feel mortified by your defeat: a person never
likes to be beat at chess, because it is a trial of skill and address;
chance has no place, and no one, therefore, loses except in consequence
of the superiority of adversary. You may remember that William the
Conqueror, upon being _check-mated_ by the Prince of France, knocked
the chess-board about his pate, an event which became the source of
much future enmity. I must say,” continued the vicar, “that this, in my
view of the matter, is an imperfection in the game; for, if it be the
type or representative of a military campaign, fortune should have some
share in deciding the fate of the day; and, if I remember correctly,
Sir William Jones has stated that the use of dice, to regulate the
moves, was formerly introduced in the East.”
“I will give the major his revenge whenever he pleases,” said Mr.
Seymour; “but as I well know how dearly the vicar loves an antiquarian
anecdote, if he will listen I will furnish him with one that will be
probably new to him. Do you observe the form of the chess-board,
resembling, as you perceive, two folio volumes?” said Mr. Seymour. “The
origin of it was this: Endes, bishop of Sully, forbade his clergy to
play at chess. As they were resolved, however, not to obey the command,
and yet did not dare to have a chess-board seen in their houses or
cloisters, they had them bound and lettered as books, and called them
their wooden gospels. These same monks had also drinking vessels bound
to resemble the breviary, and were found drinking when it was supposed
they were at prayers.”
-----
Footnote 70:
Many reasons have been assigned for this custom; the more commonly
received opinion is, that it was intended as a token of the
bridegroom having left off childish diversions, and entered on a more
serious state of life; whence _nucibus relictis_, has passed into a
proverb. This conjecture is favoured by Catullus:--
“Satis diu
Lusisti nucibus. Lubet
Jam servire Thalassio.”
We have already stated, that _nuces_ were played with like our
marbles; the custom, therefore, might be intended to express that the
bridegroom had deserted his playthings.
Footnote 71:
“War’s harmless shape we sing, and boxen trains
Of youth, encount’ring on the _cedar_ plains.
How two tall kings, by different armour known,
Traverse the field, and combat for renown.”
Footnote 72:
‘Ludus Latrunculorum;’ ludus, anglice dicitur _Draughts_, à trahendo
calculos.--HYDE _de Ludis Orientalium._ Oxon, 1694.
Footnote 73:
Voltaire tells us that Charles XII. always lost the game at chess,
from his eagerness to move his king, and to make greater use of him
than of any of the other pieces.
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