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3 jFamtlg Jlctosjmjjcv : ©rtootrtr to SLiteratuve, tfte &rt.o, Science, &flrlcultuve, Jftecfumfcg, 2Sttuc*tion, jForeifln an* Domestic XnteUfgeuce, ?l?u incur, sct.
BY C. R. HANLEITER.
P © g T IS¥.
“ Much yet remains unsung.”
From the Magnolia.
“I HAVE NO HEART TO SING.”
I have no heart to sing of thee,
No tongue to speak thy praise,
For well I know the theme would be,
Too rich for prouder lays;
Yet can I tell, in humble strain,
Os all thy smiles and love,
•And in the offering of my brain,
. My heart’s devotion prove.
Take, then, the song, htpvever weak
The tribute that 1 bring;
tOh! as I’ve felt, could I but speak,
It were not vain to sing—
Such song, decreed by heaven for good,
Than him who sings, more blest.
Might, in some happy hour and mood,
Find entrance to thy breast.
IM 0 © © IE
From Frazer’s Magazine.
RUY LOPEZ. THE CHESS BISHOP.
A LEGEND OF SPAIN.
“ The flood of lime is rolling on—
We stand upon its brink, whilst they are gone
To glide in peace down death’s mysterious stream.
Have ye done well? They moulder flesh and bone.
Who might have made this life’s envenomed dream
A sweeter draught than ye will ever taste, I deem.”
Shelley.
All the world believes that Ruy Lopez
was created a bishop by Philip 11., for his
transcendant shill in chess; but the real cir
cumstances of his investiture with the mitre
have been hitherto enveloped in that veil of
time which darkens over so many romantic
incidents of the past. Common report is a
common liar. The lowly priest rose not to
cope and stole through chess alone, but was
indebted for his rank to a freak of fortune,
as wildly extravagant as any onp frolic of
the laughter-loving fiend of the Hartz moun
tain. Romance has been well styled tame,
compared with the incidents of real life.
Since the laying bare to public view the re
cords of Spain’s oldest monastic libraries,
consequent upon the reign of anarchy in
which that fine kingdom has been plunged
for the few last years, many curious scenes
of the past have emerged from Cimmerian
darkness to the light of modern day. Lis
ten to one of the least of them.
King Philip sat in the Escurial, playing
chess with Ruy Lopez, the great master of
our mighty art, who knelt by especial favor
with one knee on the cashion of brocade,
while a party of nobles were standing group
ed around, in varied attitudes of sorrowful
and seiious attention. The mom was bright
as the orange-groves of Granada ; and the
sun streamed through the lofty arches of the
windowsupon the gorgeously decorated hall,
shaded by curtains of violet-colored velvet,
light as the dreams of hope upon the mind
of ganomine ynnt'li. But the day-star of
heaven seemed at that moment hardly con
genial with the deep gloom which evidently
hung upon the royal presence ; for the brow
of Philip was dark as the thunder-cloud,
ere it breaks on the hills of the Alpuxarres.
The monarch glanced from beneath his
lnishy eyebrows frequently and fiercely to
wards the arched doors of entrance; the
chiefs exchanged, stealthily, many sad looks
of meaning intelligence : and the ciiesse
was clearly not uppermost in the mind of
any one man present, saving our priest, Ruy
Lopez, the learned clerk of Zafra, who was
plodding out a certain forced checkmate in
some half-dozen moves, and in whose in
ward soul was working a warm struggle as
to which ought to be allowed to lake the up
per hand on this occasion—bis own proper
and dear reputation as the chess-player in
the country, or the politic deference due to
Europe’s most Catholic majesty, Philip,
lord of the fair lands of Spain and her de
pendencies.
The portals swung suddenly open, and a
coarse, sinister-looking man, presented him*
•elf somewhat abruptly before the king,
awaiting silently the royal command to
apeak. The intruder’s appearance was
highly unprepossessing; and the courtiers
imperceptibly diew up as though a serpent
had glided in among them. Os sturdy
frame, attired in a doublet of shabby black
leather, the face of the man presented the
low-arched forehead and sordid mouth pe
culiar to the habitual exercise of vulgar pas
sions, while his features acquired a cast of
increased brutality from the deep scar which
traversed them obliquely from brow to chin,
burying itself in a huge uncombed beard,
as coarse as hemp. Philip trembled as he
made an effort to speak, and a quivering
galvanic shudder passed around. The new
comer was Fernando Calavar, Spain’s chief
executioner.
“Is he dead I” choked Philip, in hoarse
and smothered tones.
“My liege, be lives as yet. A grandee
of Spain, lie pleads the privileges of his
order; and I may not deal with one of the
Pure Hidalgo strain, without raoie ospecial
kidding from your majesty.”
A subdued murmur of approbation broke
from the proud peers around, and the blood
of old Castile danced brighter upon lip and
cheek. The young Alonzo d’Ossuna sud
denly donned his cap of estate; and his bold
example wgs followed by the majority of
those present, their white plumes towering
forestlike into the air, as they thus appeared
to enter a tacit protest in defence of their
rights at large, by availing themselves of the
privilege immutably held by Spain’s gran
dees to stand covered at will before their
sovereign. The sullen Philip knit his brow
yet closer, and struck his clenched hand
heavily upon the chess-board.
“ By our own council has he been tried
and condemned to death. What does the
traitor now demand ?” inquired the king.
“ Sire, he asks to die by axe and block,
and to he left alone in solitude during the last
three hours of life with a priest.”
“ Granted,” said Philip. “Is not our
own confessor in attendance upon him, as I
commanded 1”
“ He is, may it please your majesty : but
the duke is contumacious, and laughs I the
holy Dias di Zilva to scorn. He says he
will take absolution from none under the
rank of a bishop in Spain’s church, such be
ing the prerogative of a noble doomed to
die by sentence of law for high treason.”
“ Certainly such is our privilege,” boldly
interposed the gallant D’Osunna; “ and we
claim our cousin’s rights at the band of our
king.”
“ Our rights and the justice of the king
are dissoluble,” repeated Don Diego do
Tarraxas, count of Valencia, an aged man
of gigantic height, with flowing silvery hair
and heard ; who, clothed in steel, and bear
ing the baton of Spain’s liigli-constable,
stood carelessly leaning on his sheathed
Toledo.
“ Our rights and privileges !” cried half
a-dozen nobles in a breath.
Philip started up from his ebony throne,
and the thunder-cloud exploded,
“ By the bones of the Campeador, by the
soul of St. lago, have I sworn,” cried the
monarch, sternly and collectedly, “neither
to eat nor to drink, at board or banquet, un
til I have looked upon the head of Guzman
the traitor! But Tarraxas has‘well spoken
—the justice of the king binds up the rights
of all its subjects. Time flies. Lord-con
stable, where nearest dwells a bishop 1”
“ 1 have had ever more to do with tlie
camp than the church,” bluntly replied De
Tarraxas. “ Your majesty’s royal almoner,
Don Silvas, here present, may surely better
answer the question.”
Don Silvas y Mendez trembling took up
the word,
“ May the king live! the Bishop of
Segovia is attached to his masjesty’s
household; hut he died last week, and the
fiat to appoint his successor even now lies
on the council-table, subject to the pope’s
veto. A convocation of the heads of the
church is being held at Valladolid, and all
the bishops will, doubtless, be at this time
there. I know that the Bishop of Madrid left
his palace yesterday to attend that meeting.”
A faint smile played across the lip of
D’Ossuna. He was of the Guzman blood,
and the condemned duke was his dearest
friend. The king caiight his glance, and a
new expression shone in his own leaden,
heavy eye,
“We are king,” said Philip, slowly and
austerely, “ and our throne may not be alto
gether mocked. This sceptre is, it may be,
light in weight, but the fool that sports with
it will find it crush him like an iron pillar.
Our holy father, the pope, is somewhat in
my debt on the score of obligation, and we
fear not his disapproval of the step we are
about to take. If the King of Spain can
beget a prince, lie can surely create a bishop.
Stand forth, Ruy Lopez, bishop of Segovia!
Stand forth, priest, I command, and assume
thy rank in the church !”
Ruy Lopez arose from his footstool, hut
hesitated—“ May it please your majesty —”
“ Peace, lord-bishop, and obey thy sover
eign’s word ! The formalities of thy instal
ment remain for a future day. Our subjects
cannot fail to respect the will of the king in
this matter. Bishop of Segovia, away with
Calavar to the chamber of the condemned !
Shrive the soul from sin, and at’ the end of
three hours give up the body to our axe of
justice. Don Guzman de Montez, prince
of Calatrava and duke of Medina Sidonia,
surely dies the death this day. And hark
ye, Calavar, in this apartment do we await
thy return with the head of the traitor; and
if thou fail us in exact obedience, better
were it for thee nevei to have been born.
Ruy Lopez, I invest thoe with mine own
signet-ring, lest the duke doubt tby word.
Ha, gentlemen !” added the monarch, taunt
ingly, “ dare ye now question the justice of
your king I”
No voice responded. Ruy Lopez follow
ed Calavar from the presence; and the king,
quietly resuming bis seat, waved to one of
his chief favorites, Don Ramirez, count of
Biscay, to face him at the chess-board.
“ With chess, my lords, and your good and
loyal company, will I pass away this tire
some interval, and none of ye will leave the
hall until the return of Calavar.”
So the king and Don Ramirez commenc
ed a fresh game of chess ; and the nobles,
leaning as they best might to support their
wearied limbs, stood pensively grouped in
similar postures and attitudes as when our
tale began.
Meanwhile Calavar led the newly crea
ted father of the church through many a
winding hall and gloomy arcb. Ruy Lopez
walked as one walks in a dream. His was
not the heart to harm even bird, or flower,
or fly. In the silence of that heart he curs- j
ed both court and king. Tiue, he was I
MADISON, MORGAN COUNTY, GEORGIA, SATURDAY MORNING, AUGUST 13, 1842.
Bishop of Segovia; but heavy was the
price at which lie felt the dignity had to be
purchased. The Guzman, too, his own es
teemed patron —tho first chess amateur in
Spain 1 Ruy Lopez prayed, as he passed
over the cold marble corridor which .led to
the prisons of state, that its deeps would
open and swallow him alive.
In a narrow oaken-panelled chamber, its
iron door strongly guarded with bolt and
bar, paced the doomed Prince of Calatrava,
with agitated and most unequal steps. The
floor was covered with thick, coarse matting;
the cell’s only furniture, besides, being a
massive table, a couple of heavy wooden
stools, and a rudely carved crucifix, fixed in
a small recess opposite the one narrow arch
ed window which lighted the apartment.
The lattice was at lofty elevation, and cross
ed carefully with iron bars; through whose
slender apertures played even then the sun
beams, as if in mockery of man, his tortur
ings, and his agonies. Ruy Lopez faced
the duke, and the noble captive courteously
saluted his visitor. O vanity of earthly pos
session ! Yes, he, the gallant Guzman, the
king’s especial favorite, the noble and the
brave, was bidden unto death, most inno
cently, in the full pride of youth and vigor.
Heavy were the proofs of his alleged trea
son ; the chief being an intercepted des
patch in the Guzman’s own handwriting to
the throne of France, in which a plan was
proposed to take the life of Philip. Firm
in the strength of rectitude, the duke’s con
temptuous silence upon accusal had filled
up apparently the measure of his treason.
He faced the storm as a column of granite;
but the thunder-stroke had dashed him
earthwards. Don Guzman had braved
death in every form, and blenched not for
himself at this sudden beckoning away of
its pale, pale arm ; but his soul sank when
the thought of the lady of his love, his be
trothed bride, the beautiful and young Es
tella, who as yet knew nought of woe or
suffering, as she trustingly awaited Calatra
va’s coming to claim her hand, in the halls
of her sires, on the banks ‘of the Guadal
quiver.
Calavar, the executioner,bluntly reported
the monarch’s mandate, and the priest sor
rowfully confirmed the tidings. Don Guz
man acknowledged the presence of a bish
op, and bent his knee to receive the bless
ing of our chess-player. “In three hours,
then, I am thine,” said the duke, with ma
jesty, as he waved Calavar forth. The ruf
fian retired, and Ruy Lopez and the Hidal
go were left alone, the bishop trembling as
though palsy stricken. The duke pressed
his confessor’s hand in silence. It is some
thing to think we have yet one friend. ’
“ You and I have met,.” said Don Guz
man, after a long pause, “ under happier
circumstances.”
“ We have,” faltered out the new born
bishop. A stranger would have thought
Ruy Lopez the doomed man of the two.
“ Yes ! and when in the presence of Phi
lip and the court you played your great
match with Paolo Boi, the Sicilian, it was
upon my right arm our monarch leaned.
And now!”
“ I wish to Heaven I were in Nova His
pania!” thought Ruy Lopez ; but nerving
himself, he continued, aloud, “All these,
dear son and friend, are idle thoughts. Lose
not the time allowed to make your peace
with Heaven ; but let us pray together
hopefully that the holy offices of the church
may cleanse the soul from spot, and thus
prepare it for the mighty change.”
“ A change indeed 1” exclaimed the no
ble captain. “ And yet, let but a few short
years pass away, and what will it have mat
tered ? Chess-players as we both are, how
well comes home Cervantes’ words, that
life is but a game of chess. I forget the
exact passage, but its meaning is that where
as on earth men play different parts, like
chess-pieces, some being kings, peasants or
knights, according to fate, talent, or birth,
so after a season enters Death upon the
scene, and levels them all in the grave ; as
we replace the chess equipment in its coffer.”
“ Well do I remember those words of the
Don,” said Lopez; and equally pat is
honest Sancbo’s answer, that however good
the parallel, the idea was not so new but
that he had heard it before. But Heaven
pardon this our sin of trifling!”
“ I was your favorite pupil, your strong
est antagonist,” remarked the duke, the
words falling meaningless from his lips, as
if he sought but to pass the time away.
“ You were—you are !” cried the bishop,
impatiently. “ But again I say let us kneel
in prayer, dear son.”
And they knelt, the priest and the peer,
before that humble crucifix; and many were
the words of Don Guzman’s confession,
hidden by the sacred seal of the church
deep in the torn soul of the weeping bishop.
Ruy Lopez blessed the ‘prisoner, and ab
solved his spirit from guilt, according to the
holy Catholic rite. The last word appear
ed to have been spoken, and the solemn sub
ject closed ; but an hour remained of the
allotted time. The manner of the dying
man was marked by dignity, divested of
bravado.
“ This delay is horrible!” cried the duke.
“ Wherefore do they tarry 1 An eternity of
torture drags its hideous length in every se
cond of time ! Tho world and I have part
ed—would that all were over!” And- Don
Guzman strode rapidly across the cell, look
ing involuntarily upon the door continually,
as if expecting to see it suddenly give way
to the apparition of Calavar and his assis
tance, with all their frightful apparatus.
The noble duke’s firmness was evidently
yielding to the agony of that awful soul
rack.
Now it happened, that Ruy Lopez, al
though a bishop, was yet a man ; and in
man the workings of nature go regularly
on like the wheels of a clock. The priest
had recovered his own self-possession, yield
ing to that which he felt to be inevitable.
He was struck with this last exclamation,
so pitiable, of the duke, and marked the
clammy death-sweat dropping from the vic
tim’s marble brow. Ruy Lopez heartily
wished the scene over for the sakes of both,
and a sudden thought gave vent to his own
ruling passion. The hour was to be slain
before the man. *
“ If a game of chess, now, were not pro
fane !” faltered forth the priest.
“ A good # thought!” cried Don Guzman,
recalled again to earth, and braced once
more to energy by the singularity of the
proposition. “ Clever bishop ! dear con
fessor ! a truly capital idea, and a most orig
nal conception ! A farewell chess-party—a
last Lopez Gambit! How can we better
pass the timel But the chess-men, dear
friend!”
Ruy Lopez kindled like flame from gun
powder. He all but laughed outright.
“ Pardon me, noble duke,” said the bish
op,” but my clerical gown always holds the
weapons of war.” And he produced a
miniature chess equipage accordingly ;
drawing tlie two massive oaken settles to
the table, and hastily setting up the pieces,
“ Our lady forgive me 1” continued Ruy
Lopez; “but I sometimes amuse myself
with examining a chess position in the con
fessional.”
“ Many curious problems are doubtless
solved there,” retorted the prisoner with a
smile.
So the two grandees, spiritual and tem
poral, sat down to chess, and were speedily
engaged in a game of remarkable interest.
What a painter’s theme were now that little
cell! What a subject for the pencil of Rem
brandt or Salvator Rosa! The one narrow,
confined window, with its lofty stream of
sunlight pouring in full flood adown the
manly features of Don Guzman, as if in
mockery of God’s own image, so soon to
be blood-marked by cruel man. The chess
board—the benevolent countenance of Ruy
Lopez, now eagerly calculating his move,
with every thought abstracted from earth,
and continued to the chess position before
him, and now that face bedewed with pity’s
tear, as its ken glanced unmarked upon the
noble victim—the musculur shiver at inter
vals thrilling fearfully through both peer and
priest at the slightest coming of sound—ay,
even at the beating of their own hearts!
This last, I say, was not the least fearful
feature of the scene.
As I have hut now remarked, and as I in
fact remark to myself every day of the
week, and every hour of the ’ day, human
nature is a very curious sort of nature, and
its workings are oftentimes most capricious
ly inexplicable. The varied emotions of
our two chess-players presently ran into a
different channel to what might have been
perhaps expected. While in his tremor of
spirit, Ruy Lopez played nearly a rook be
low his proper force; the intense excite
ment of the moment stimulated the pride of
the Guzman and appeared to endow him
with preternatural skill. The high and
generous blood of old Castile responded to
the call, and never had the duke played a
game with such tremendous strength of pur
pose, such lucidity of calculation. The
taper burns brightest as it flashes forth its
latest spark—the song of the swan in death
is ever most musical. The mind of the
gallant noble appeared already to have dis
enthralled itself from earth, and to have be
come that purely spiritual essence, into
which it was about to be resolved by steel
and headsman. The duke opened his game
skilfully, dashed impetuously into attack,
and acquired a position of all but certain
victory. Ruy Lopez had not set his heart
much upon the matter; how could he ? and
his best energies seemed now all unequal to
meet the unwonted powers of the assault.
Chess-players will understand this descrip
tion. More and more complicated became
the situation of the pieces, and never did
fancy carve chess problem more scientifi
cally intricate than that into which our com
batants had interwoven their battle array.
The bishop buckled to work in earnest,
and tasked his brain almost to bursting, for
a mode of parrying the almost inevitable,
though it might be remote, checkmate.
Don Guzman, on his part, poured his soul
into the fray with that glow of approaching
conquest hardly appreciable in this our icy
clime of the north ; and never, never was
chess enthusiasm more vividly developed.
The world without was forgotten—time
and space no longer perceptibly existed.
The universe was the chess-board—a life
was in each move. Happy the delusion,
could it but endure ; but, alas 1 for the good
and brave, the minutes and the seconds
were numbered. The door flew open, and
the duke was startingly re-awakened from
his dream, by the all too horrible reality
which presented itself! The very beast of
the desert can he more merciful than man.
With the lightning swiftness which marks
tho change of scene at the theatre, was the
holy solitude of that peaceful chamber
transformed into a very nail ol hell. The
stern Calavar was again upon his prey,
backed by three dark ruffians with sword
and torch, as if heaven’s proper light was
unfit for the destroyer. A block, covered
with black cloth, was wheeled suddenly for
wards ; and the short axe placed thereon
told featful tidings of that which was t fol
low. In stern silence, as men used to labor
in blood, did the satellites of the dootnster
fix their torches in the appointed niches,
and strew the floor around with the dust of
the cedar. All this was the work of a mo
ment ; life is but a breath of the nostril.
Ruy Lopez sprang tremblingly to his feet
as Calavar advanced to the chess-table; but
the duke stirred neither limb nor muscle,
remaining in eager gaze fixed upon the
board, caring not for intrusion of man or
fiend. Don Guzman had to move.
The workers of woe completed their
preparations, and stood sullenly leaning up
on their swords of office. Their gloomy
chief laid his hand upon the duke’s shoulder.
“ Come 1” croaked the husky Calavar.
Oh! what fearful meaning can be conveyed
in one poor word!
The prisoner started as though serpent
bitten.
“ Let me finish my game 1” said Don
Guzman, authoritatively.
“Impossible 1”
“ But I have won it fellow! t have a cer
tainly forced mate; I must play it out.”
“ Impossible !*’ repeated the dark one.
“Are the three hours really expired?”
asked the Guzman.
“ Their sand has run out. We are the
king's servants, and we have a duty to per
form 1” And Calavar accordingly beckoned
to his band, who advanced a few steps.
Now the duke was sitting in the recess
under the one little window facing the por
tal, and both bishop and chess-table were
consequently placed between him and his
appointed blood-spillers. Don Guzman
raised his voice, and spoke haughtily, in the
tone becoming one who succeeded an an
cestral line of twelve hundred years.
“ This game to me, and my head to thee;
but until it be played out I st ; r not. One
short half-hour will give me victory.”
—• u Duke,.l respect thee,” responded Cala
var ; “ but this may not be: my own life
hangs in the balance. Come !”
Don Guzman drew from his fingers half
a dozen gemmed rings of brilliants, and
carelessly tossed them to the ruffians, as if
to stay their thirst for gore. “I say I will
finish the game,” said he calmly. The
jewels lay peacefully untouched among the
saw dust, and the headsmen looked at each
other doubtingly.
“ This is but trifling; our orders are per
emptory !” cried Calavar, more impetuous
ly. “ Forgive me, noble duke, do you re
spect the will of your suzerain, or must we
use force ? The bidding of the monarch
shall be done; the sentence of Spain’s law
must be executed: leave then your seat in
peace, prince, and ruffle not your lest mo
ments by unavailing opposition. Speak to
the duke, reverend fathei, most holy bishop!
Bid Don Guzman bow to his fate.”
The reply of Ruy Lopez was eager as
unexpected. He snatched the curtal axe
from off the billet, and, waving it over his
head, shouted, like the captain of a thousand
men in battle:
“He shall finish the game, by G— B’
cried the bishop.
Started at the action accompanying these
words, Calavar recoiled, and nearly fell down
over his mynnidons. The scene may be
imagined better than described. Swords
were presented, and the band were about
to rush like wolves upon their prey. Ruy
Lopez seemed transformed into Hercules.
He dashed his heavy oak stool upon the
floor before his feet.
“ The first man who passes bounds thus
fixed by the church,” said the bishop, I cleave
his impious skull. Up, noble duke, up, and
to the work 1 ‘there are but four of the mis
creants. I say your highness shall not be
balked of your though it cost me
life 1 And woe, ye villains I unutterable
woe, to the wretch who shall dare to lay
bloody hands upon a bishop of the church
of Christ! Anathema Maranatha 1 Accurs
ed be he, utterly and for ever. Cut off eter
nally from the faithful fold—a leper here, a
howling fiend hereafter. Lower your steel,
bloodhounds, and respect the Lord’s anoint
ed I” And Ruy Lopez continued to pour
forth, in a jargon oi Latin and Spanish, one
of those sublime forms of damnation visit
ed by his church upon the excommunicated.
The effect of our bishop’s eloquence was
splendidly emphatic. The men were awe
struck and tranquil, as if changed to stone.
Even the sturdy Calavar felt that to slay a
bishop of the church was not lightly to be
thought of, without a more solemn legal
warrant.
“ I go to the king,” said Calavar.
“ You maygoto —Hades !” responded the
bishop, in phrase of purest Doric.
What course remained for adoption ?
Calavar was in heart all averse to reporting
these untoward matters to majesty, Philip
was uncertain of mood, and was, besides,
awaiting, like the daughter of Herodias, for
her victim’s head on a charger/ To ap
proach a wild animal at feeding time is ever
dangerous. The chief executioner rapidly
ran over the several chances. To butcher
the duke and priest as they stood, was an
undertaking not hastily to he entered upon,
however great the preponderance of force
upon the side of the law. Ruy Lopez was
VOLUME 1.-MMBER 2ft
a powerful man, and his blood was lip#
Don Guzman was unarmed, but desperate,
and seemed amazingly to enjoy the idea of
a battle. Pindence suggested the idea of
temporising, rather than at once rushing to
extremity. Calavar was bidden to bear the
duke’s bead to tlie foot of the throne, *rtd
fejt a natural disinclination to Hoar his skil
ful carving. The time lost might be Sc
counted for by a falsehood, and evert Were
this impossible, the same half-hour would be
equally consumed, if expended in a brutal
and hazardous struggle. The Guzman had
a large following; his friends at eonrt were
powerful; their vengeance was to be dread
ed. Calavar resolved upon keeping the
peace, and his decision was, in my humble
opinion, both just and natural.
“ Will you promise, really artd truly, to
finish this accursed game in half an hortf#
duke ?” said Calavar, after a long pause.
“ I will,” answered Don Guzman.
” In the name of the devil, play on, thertl”’
replied the executioner.
’ The trude being thus perfected, the play
ers resumed their seats, and were instantly
reabsorbed in the conduct of their game.
Calavar was himself a ehess-player, and
while he mentally anathematised both duke
and prelate, by every saint in the calendar,
was tcin to make a virtue of necessity, artd
looked on with a face of flint. The varied
attitudes of his followers, grouped as they
were around the more interested party, were
in strict accordance with the scene. The
executioners seemed to form a wall of steel
and muscle, dividing the doomed chess
player from earth utterly and for ever. Don
Guzman glanced carelessly round, and even
at that sad moment his gallant spirit quailed
not.
“ Never played I chess in so goodly a pre
sence before,” said the duke with a smile.
“ Bear witness, fellows, when I am gone#
that once in my life I mated Ruy Lopez!”*
And he addressed himself again to his task#
with flushed features, lighted up yet by that
cold, sad smile, like a sunbeam of Alpine
snows.
The bishop made no comment aloud off
this remark ; but be kept fast hold of the
trenchant axe, and scanned ever and anon
the rugged features of the men around, a*
if longing in his heart for an opportunity to
stir up the sleeping fray. “ Were the duke
and 1,” thought Rny Lopez, “but sure of
Eassage from this blood-staified tiger den,
y the sacred cross! I should think but lit
tle of braining the whole four of ye!”
And so Went on their chess, and frightful
was it to see the yet living dead await With
such calm content the stroke of the slayer j
fancy depicting the outlines of the scene
constantly to Rny Lopez through his many
varied years of afterlife—death boveriftg
the while on vulture wings above the group,
eager to clutch his destined prey.
* • # • *
But how passed the time during this in
terval in the halls of majesty ? How fated
it with the lord of the Escurial, while his
most devoted servant was thus passing
through his death-agony? If the three
hours had dragged out their coil hut tardily
in that dark tower where groaned imprison
ed innocence, their waning in the court of
Philip had been yet more tedious. Con
demned by firm to remain in standing pos
ture, and forbidded under any pretence to
quit the royal presence, the nobles of the
court, many of them in complete armor,
were, despite the hardy habits of the times,
almost sinking with fatigue, ns they forced
ly made pretence of watching the chess
going on between the monarch and Don
Ramirez, count of Biscay, a fine, tall figure,
but whose courtly and varnished smile at
the present moment was hardly in keeping
with the general aspect. De Tarraxas,
with half-closed eyes, stood still as the Cock
of Calpe ; resembling rather one of those
gigantic suits of steel one sees in Gothic
halls, than a man of real bone and blood.
The youthful Alonzo d’Ossuna, wanting
the iron frame of the lord high constable,
and palsied with heart-sickness at the cruel
fate of him he had loved so well—his leader
in war, his model of every great quality
which may adorn a man—D’Osuna (my
legend runs) leaned against the marble pil
lar in the most pitiable state of depression,
like a flower-stalk snapped by £the cutting
tempest of the east. Suddenly Philip start
ed up, and began to pace the floor again ‘
with unequal steps, as at the commencement
of our chanter, at times pausing to catch
the most distant echo of sound, at others
turning and watching the sand-glass, which
marked the passing flight of day. All was
silent as the chamber of Azrael, the angel
of death ; for none present, however high
in rank, dared break in upon thfeir ruler's
iron command. In accordance with the
gloomy superstition of the age, Philip would
* Seneca gives an anecdote ot one Cains Julius
which 1 quote from Lodge's translation, 1614, present?
ing a curious parallel.. Lodge, however, is wrong in
assuming the game to have been chess, the Romans
having been certainly ignorant of that sport; and tbs
presumption is that it waa a species of backgammon.
“ flee was playinge at cheese (Ludebat lalrunculia) at
such a lime aa the centurion wholedde a troope of con
demned men to dentbe commanded him likewise to
be cited. Havingsearce finished his game, he count
ed his men (numcravit calculoe,) and aaid to him with
whom he played, beware, eaith be, when I am dead,
that thou belyeet me not, and enyeet thou hast wonne
the game. Then, nodding hia head to the centurion,
followinge forth#, he added, bear me witness, that I
have the vantage of ons.”
