The Pope's Game Of Chess
:
Jewish Fairy Tales And Legends
Nearly a thousand years ago in the town of Mayence, on the bank of the
Rhine, there dwelt a pious Jew of the name of Simon ben Isaac. Of a
most charitable disposition, learned and ever ready to assist the poor
with money and wise counsel, he was reverenced by all, and it was
believed he was a direct descendant of King David. Everybody was proud
to do him honor.
Simon ben Isaac had one little son, a bright
boy of the name of
Elkanan, who he intended should be trained as a rabbi. Little Elkanan
was very diligent in his studies and gave early promise of developing
into an exceptionally clever student. Even the servants in the
household loved him for his keen intelligence. One of them, indeed,
was unduly interested in him.
She was the Sabbath-fire woman who only came into the house on the
Sabbath day to attend to the fires, because, as you know, the Jewish
servants could not perform this duty. The Sabbath-fire woman was a
devoted Catholic and she spoke of Elkanan to a priest. The latter was
considerably impressed.
"What a pity," he remarked, "that so talented a boy should be a Jew.
If he were a Christian, now," he added, winningly, "he could enter the
Holy Church and become famous."
The Sabbath-fire woman knew exactly what the priest meant.
"Do you think he could rise to be a bishop?" she asked.
"He might rise even higher--to be the Pope himself," replied the
priest.
"It would be a great thing to give a bishop to the Church, would it
not?" said the woman.
"It is a great thing to give anyone to the Church of Rome," the priest
assured her.
Then they spoke in whispers. The woman appeared a little troubled, but
the priest promised her that all would be well, that she would be
rewarded, and that nobody would dare to accuse her of doing anything
wrong.
Convinced that she was performing a righteous action, she agreed to do
what the priest suggested.
Accordingly, the following Friday night when the household of Simon
ben Isaac was wrapped in slumber, she crept stealthily and silently
into the boy's bedroom. Taking him gently in her arms, she stole
silently out of the house and carried him to the priest who was
waiting. Elkanan was well wrapped up in blankets, and so cautiously
did the woman move that he did not waken.
The priest said not a word. He just nodded to the woman, and then
placed Elkanan in a carriage which he had in waiting.
Elkanan slept peacefully, totally unaware of his adventure, and when
he opened his eyes he thought he must be dreaming. He was not in his
own room, but a much smaller one which seemed to be jolting and
moving, like a carriage, and opposite to him was a priest.
"Where am I?" he asked in alarm.
"Lie still, Andreas," was the reply.
"But my name is not Andreas," he answered. "That is not a Jewish name.
I am Elkanan, the son of Simon."
To his amazement, however, the priest looked at him pityingly and
shook his head.
"You have had a nasty accident," he said, "and it has affected your
head. You must not speak."
Not another word would he say in response to all the boy's eager
queries. He simply ignored Elkanan who puzzled his head over the
matter until he really began to feel ill and to wonder whether he was
Elkanan after all. Tired out, he fell asleep again, and next time he
awoke he was lying on a bed in a bare room. A bell was tolling, and he
heard a chanting chorus. By his side stood a priest.
Elkanan looked at the priest like one dazed. Before he could utter a
word, the priest said: "Rise, Andreas, and follow me."
The boy had no alternative but to obey. To his horror he was taken
into a chapel and made to kneel. The priests sprinkled water on him.
He did not understand what the service meant, and when it was over he
began to cry for his father and mother. For days nobody took the
slightest notice of his continual questionings until a priest, with a
harsh, cruel face, spoke to him severely one day.
"I perceive, Andreas," he said, "thou hast a stubborn spirit. It shall
be curbed. Thy father and mother are dead--all the world is dead to
thee. Thou hast strange notions in thy head. We shall rid thee of
them."
Elkanan cried so much on hearing these terrible words that he made
himself seriously ill. How long he was kept in bed he knew not, but
when he recovered, he found himself a prisoner in a monastery. All the
priests called him Andreas, they were kind to him, and in time he
began to doubt himself whether he was Elkanan, the son of Simon, the
pious Jew of Mayence.
To put an end to the unrest in his mind, he devoted himself earnestly
to his lessons. His tutors never had so brilliant a pupil, nor so
intelligent a companion. He was a remarkable chess player.
"Where did you learn?" they asked him.
"My father, Simon ben Isaac, of Mayence, taught me," he replied, with
a sob in his voice.
"It is well," they replied, having received their instructions what to
say in answer to such remarks, "thou art blessed from Heaven, Andreas.
Not only dost thou absorb learning in the hours of daylight, but
angels and dead sages visit thee in they sleep and impart knowledge
unto thee."
He could obtain no more satisfactory words from his tutors, and in
time he made no mention whatever of the past, and his tutors and
companions refrained from touching upon the subject either. Once or
twice he formed the idea of endeavoring to escape, but he soon
discovered the project impossible. He was never allowed to be alone
for a moment; he was virtually a prisoner, although all men began to
do him honor because of his amazing knowledge and learning.
In due time, he became a priest and a tutor and was even called to
Rome and was created a cardinal. He wore a red cap and cloak, people
kneeled to him and sought his blessing, and all spoke of him as the
wisest, kindliest and most scholarly man in the Church.
He had not spoken of his boyhood for years, but he never ceased to
think of those happy days. And although he tried hard, he could not
believe that it was all a dream. Whenever he played a game of chess,
which was his one pastime, he seemed to see himself in his old room at
Mayence, and he sighed. His fellow priests wondered why he did this,
and he laughingly told them it was because he had no idea how to lose
a game.
Then a great event happened. The Pope died and Andreas was elected his
successor. He was placed on a throne, a crown was put upon his head,
and he was called Holy Father. The power of life and death over
millions of people in many countries was vested in him; kings,
princes and nobles visited him in his great palace to do him homage,
and his fame spread far and wide. But he himself grew more thoughtful
and silent and sought only to exercise his great powers for the
people's good.
This, however, did not altogether please some of his counselors.
"The Church needs money," they told him. "We must squeeze it out of
the Jews."
But Andreas steadfastly refused to countenance any persecutions. Many
edicts were placed before him for his signature, giving permission to
bishops in certain districts to threaten the Jews unless they paid
huge sums of money in tribute, but Andreas declined to assent to any
one of them.
One day a document was submitted to him from the archbishop of the
Rhine district, craving permission to drive the Jews from the city of
Mayence. The Pope's face hardened when he read the iniquitous letter.
He gave instant orders that the archbishop should be summoned to Rome,
and to the utter amazement of his cardinals he also commanded them to
bring before him three leading Jews from Mayence, to state their
case.
"It shall not be said," he declared, "that the Pope issued a decree of
punishment without giving the people condemned an opportunity of
defending themselves."
When the news reached Mayence there was great wailing and sorrow among
the Jews, for, alas! bitter experience had taught them to expect no
mercy from Rome. Delegates were selected, and when they arrived at the
Vatican they were asked for their names. These were given and
communicated to the Pope.
"The delegates of the Jews of the city of Mayence," announced a
secretary, "humbly crave audience of Your Holiness."
"Their names?" demanded the Pope.
"Simon ben Isaac, Abraham ben Moses, and Issachar, the priest."
"Let them enter," said the Pope, in a quiet, firm voice. He had heard
but one name; his plan had proved successful, for he had counted upon
Simon being one of the chosen delegates.
The three men entered the audience chamber and stood expectant before
the Pope. His Holiness appeared to be lost in deep thought. Suddenly
he aroused himself from his reverie and looked keenly at the aged
leader of the party.
"Simon of Mayence, stand forth," he said, "and give voice to thy plea.
We give thee attention."
The old man approached a few paces nearer, and in simple, but eloquent
language, pleaded that the Jews should be permitted to remain
unmolested in Mayence in which city their community had been long
established.
"Thy prayer" said the Pope, when he had finished, "shall have full
consideration, and my answer shall be made known to thee without
delay. Now tell me, Simon of Mayence, something of thyself and thy
co-delegates. Who are ye in the city?"
Simon gave the information.
"Have ye come hither alone?" asked the Pope. "Or have ye been escorted
by members of your families--your sons?"
The Pope's voice was scarcely steady, but none noticed.
"I have no son," said Simon, with a weary sigh.
"Hast thou never been blessed with offspring?"
Simon looked sharply at the Pope before answering. Then, with bowed
head and broken voice, he said: "God blessed me with one son, but he
was stolen from me in childhood. That has been the sorrow of my life."
The old man's voice was choked with sobs.
"I have heard," said the Pope, after a while, "that thou art famed as
a chess-player. I, too, am credited with some skill in the game. I
would fain pit it against thine. Hearken! If thou prove the victor in
the game, then shall thy appeal prevail."
"I consent," said the old man, proudly. "It is many years since I have
sustained defeat."
It was arranged that the game should be played that evening.
Naturally, the strange contest aroused the keenest interest. The game
was followed closely by the papal secretaries and the Jewish
delegates. It was a wonderful trial of subtle play. The two players
seemed about evenly matched. First one and then the other made a
daring move which appeared to place his opponent in difficulties, but
each time disaster was ingeniously evaded. A draw seemed the likeliest
result until, suddenly, the Pope made a brilliant move which startled
the onlookers. It was considered impossible now for Simon to avoid
defeat.
No one was more astounded at the Pope's move than the old Jew. He rose
tremblingly from his chair, gazed with piercing eyes into the face of
the Pope and said huskily, "Where didst thou learn that move? I taught
it to but one other."
"Who?" demanded the Pope, eagerly.
"I will tell thee alone," said Simon.
The Pope made a sign, and the others left the room in great surprise.
Then Simon exclaimed excitedly, "Unless thou art the devil himself,
thou canst only be my long lost son, Elkanan."
"Father!" cried the Pope, and the old man clasped him in his arms.
When the others re-entered the room, the Pope said quietly, "We have
decided to call the game a draw, and in thankfulness for the rare
pleasure of a game of chess with so skilled a player as Simon of
Mayence, I grant the prayer of the delegates of that city. It is my
will that the Jews shall live in peace."
Shortly afterward, a new Pope was elected. Various rumors gained
currency. One was that Andreas had thrown himself into the flames;
another that he had mysteriously disappeared. And at the same time a
stranger arrived in Mayence and was welcomed by Simon joyfully as his
son, Elkanan.