"Black is the colour of Death". This is one of the most famous chess passages of the wonderful film The Seventh Seal by Ingmar Bergman.

The story, set in The Middle Ages, (and revisited sub specie scachorum by Adriano Chicco) is well known: the Knight Antonius Block and his sceptical squire, coming back from a crusade, arrive on a stony beach. Here the Knight meets a figure wrapped in a large black cloak, who informs him that he had been following him for a long time, a-waiting this moment. The Knight gazes at the pale face of Death and asks, "You are able to play chess, aren’t you?"

"Yes" replies Death, "how do you know?"

"I have seen it in paintings and I have read it in legends" Block replies.

Death warns the Knight that he will lose the game, but this does not dismay him, and he offers her the choice of colour. The pieces are laid out on the chessboard, and the game begins.

It is known that the great Swedish director was carefully and well informed about chess, and it is possible that one of his immediate sources was the fresco of the Taby Swedish church which shows the iconic image of Death playing chess against a man; a dramatic image in its ingenuity. It is certain that Bergman read some of Chrétien de Troyes’s romances – rich in chess and death references – before shooting his film, as his chess statements display a remarkable historical accuracy. The checkmate "in the corner" which Death gives to Block is particularly astonishing, as it is a final position much valued by the chess players of the Middle Ages. It was considered of particular beauty both due to the difficulty of its realisation and to the simplicity of its aspect.

No epoch in the history of mankind cultivated the idea of Death with so much insistence, and with so much regularity, as did the fifteenth century. That whole period resounded to the scream of memento mori (remember you have to die). Nevertheless, that scream did not suddenly appear in fifteenth-century Europe – nothing is without a history.

Only in the past can we discover the roots of the new, and only from the past can we hope to know the guiding ideas and thoughts which will assert themselves at a later time.

From the earliest times, Religion has solemnly inculcated the constancy of the thought of Death, but by the fifteenth century the pious manuscripts of the Dark Ages were known only to a small number of hermits long since retired from the world of daily affairs.

Only with the flourishing of the mendicant orders would popular preaching develop and the sinister warning of the eternal presence of mortality become a chorus that crossed the Christian World with unusual fury, and the realisation of human transitoriness reappear in all its manifestations.

Towards the end of The Middle Ages, a new form of illustration was added to the oratory of the preacher – the iconography of Death. Through the elaborate wall decorations inside churches, houses and courtyards, and often outside of them, these dark images reached people of all ranks. These two ways of expression suited to the masses – preaching and the image – rendered the idea of Death in simple manner with rudeness and clarity.

All that the monks of the Dark Ages had meditated upon about Death was condensed and transferred into popular, blunt images and displayed to the multitude.

Literary and iconographic elements, different among themselves but often convergent, appeared across Europe, and learned scholars discussed (and still discuss) them in an attempt to establish the origins, places and intentions of these elements. This notwithstanding, nobody has yet reached sure conclusions about the chronology and significance of these themes.

The Meeting of the Three Living and the Three Dead; the Triumph over Death; the Dance of the Dead; the Dance Macabre; the general Dance of Death; and the romance of Baarlam and Josaphat, are the themes best known and that have been most used in wall paintings and in wood engravings.

Perhaps only the legend of the Meeting of the Three Living and the Three Dead could be of Arab origin, or in any case oriental. At any rate, the legend was already known in Italy during the fourteenth century and from there spread throughout Europe.

The common understanding of the Meeting of the Three Living and Three Dead is that, in this theme, one could grasp a sort of continuation after Death – this seems to be the Arab meaning. This understanding would soon leave space for the implicit call of the memento mori.

The theme of the Triumph over Death, the most known in Italy, became affirmed about the middle of the fourteenth century; the probable iconographic development of this theme was based upon the rich ascetic literature, but we can also recognise in the works of Petrarch and Boccaccio some attempt at formulating the personae of Death. The possible origin of this iconography be it inspired by the Apocalypse or derived from the sad experience of the Black plague (which raged in Europe for a long time) suggests that these works were the result of a typical Italian sensibility. In Italy, the fifteenth century was distinguished by the grandiosity of frescos on these themes, and it is possible to include among this iconography the miniatures that illuminated the Petrarch manuscripts.

A different problem, and one far more complex, is that of the knowledge, the origins, the development and the meaning of the Dance of the Dead, the Danse Macabre and the general Dance of Death.

We know that the Dance of the Dead is an image less common than others, and the largest known example is that contained in the Liber Chronicarum, better known as Chronicle of Nuremberg of 1493. In this famous xylography, five skeletons sing and dance, and a mournful element seems to be superimposed on the ironic one; perhaps due to the popular belief which tells of the dead who, at midnight, come back from the grave and dance.

On the contrary, the origins of the iconographic element of the Danse Macabre, at least in France, date back to a famous cemetery fresco of the Innocent Saints of Paris of 1423, unfortunately destroyed in the seventeenth century but handed down to posterity by a graphical translation of 1485.

Although the representations are many and different, in the printed images the dancing motif seems to leave space to single couples made by Death and alive: a very lucky motif in which the irreverence of the skeleton contrasts against the reluctance of the designated victim, often of high rank. It is evident that the moral warning is to lead a life as near as possible to religious dictates if one seeks to earn the final reward.

According to some European opinion, Spain could have known the motif of the Dance of Death from the north of the Continent at a later epoch, but recent studies have not confirmed this hypothesis. On the contrary, the role of mediaeval Spain in its double position of ethnic mix and place of passage has favoured interpretations and variations of the Death theme; its particular melange born of different cultures, from Moorish to Hebrew with the rich penetration of continental and above all French populations in the Catalan and Aragonese lands, should have favoured the development of the first examples of macabre themes justifying the term of Danzas general de la Muerte.

With regard to the diffusion of the concept Life/Death, we cannot neglect the parable told in the oriental Book of Barlaam and Josaphat, known as the allegory of Life and Death, which, with the profundity of its spiritual message, so deep rooted in the sensibility of the Christian people, favoured its successful dissemination throughout christianised Europe. The dialogue is between the sage hermit Barlaam and his Prince Josaphat.

The hermit tries to avert the young Prince from the useless distractions of the world, and he tells him the legend of the Man and the Unicorn; the moral of which is that humans walk thoughtlessly through the world and so do not realise that the Unicorn is arriving.

The symbolic message, constantly present and familiar in the Christian moral, could have indirectly suggested the following European new adaptation of the theme.

In any case, the skeleton with scythe and cartouche bearing the words Ego sum (I am) to emphasise its sovereignty over the world, flew through Europe distributing its worrying warning.

This introduction, of course, has no pretension to be complete; nevertheless, it is useful to introduce the argument of Chess and Death, which surprisingly, has much affinity with this subject.

Since its origin, the game of chess was used as an interpretative, metaphoric model, with breadth of thought stretching from intellectual contest to social metaphor, and ultimately, allegory, symbolism and ethics.

Curiously, chess, like the legend of the Man and the Unicorn, probably originated in India; it reached Sassanid Persia and, due to the Arabs, soon reached the Mediterranean coasts of Africa and from there was introduced in Europe. The Arabs had great chess players and a rich literature of chess. Among the best players were, Al Adli, As Razi, and Abullay al Lajlai but the strongest was As Suli. He wrote two books of chess, which reach us through transcription, and in these treatises there are often criticisms about the method of play of his contemporaries, always expounded with the tone of undisputed authority.

Since As Suli’s time, chess has evinced a symbolic propensity, which has been constant in a great part of chess literature.

Among the Arabs, the difference between chance and choice was important, however, among the Indians the meaning of the "double", that is to say, the cyclical progression carried out upon the chessboard which is implicit in the Asthapada, has always been mysterious.

We have proofs of this cyclical symbolism in the work of Al Masudi and in the codex by Alfonso el Sabio.

When chess arrived in continental Europe, understanding chess symbolism and knowing the game became one of the seven probitates of the middle age knight, and popular fantasy built on chess romances and epic poems were related by the minstrels to entertain their Lords. So we can understand why medieval chess quickly assumed a great cultural and social function in three main aspects: symbolic, literary and allegorical. Appertaining to the symbolism of the chessboard, well known works such as Les Praieres d’or or the Libros Axedrez; in literary aspect, the famous and propitious work by friar Jacopo da Cessole, and, for the allegorical aspect we cannot leave out of consideration the échecs moralizes which France, above all, propagated in Europe with the knightly romances and the chancon de geste. The most important of these works is the long poem Echechs Amoureaux in which there is the episode of Deduit who plays chess against the very fine young lady in the garden of the roses.

Thus changed the literal character of these works: from the allegorical to the gallant. This explains the insistent presence of chess in knightly literature: Gawain and Lancelot play chess; the love potion is given to Isolde and Tristan while they are playing the game. Not extraneous to this development were the religious men who, in the silence of their monasteries, wrote about chess – often to criticise the amount of time spent in playing it, but always appreciating the high moral value present in the symbolism of the game.

Inevitably, the game of chess was used to simulate the vicissitudes of the life; so upon the chessboard, man meets Fate, Destiny…and Death.

There are many reasons to believe that the meeting of the Man with the Death in front a chessboard, at least in the metaphorical aspects, could have by far preceded the theme of the Dance of Death.

This aspect, of course, was perfect for medieval artists to depict the theme of Death.

The fresco of Taby church is, in any case, not the only fifteenth-century example of a Death who plays chess. Also well known was the fresco in the portal of the Strasburg cathedral, which was much deteriorated by the sixteenth century and later removed by the Jesuits. This representation shows an angel bearing a sand glass between many persons: popes, emperors, kings, knights, women and others; in the middle stands a great chessboard with Death playing chess.

The symbolic meaning of the chess game: the last act of life which spares nobody, from the great of the world to the most humble; the in exorability of times passage shown by the sand glass, is in this picture, perhaps, the most clear demonstration of the transitory nature of human life with its sinister, constant recall of the memento mori.

The theme of a chess-playing Death was not only confined to the representations, on the contrary, it spread as a concept to preaching, too.

Girolamo Savonarola, who disapproved of any kind of game, did not hesitate to use the symbolism of chess in an expostulatory sermon: on the 2 November 1496, the day of commemoration of the dead in Florence, he said: " O huomo il diavolo giuoca ad scacchi con teco & guarda di giugnerti & darti scaccho matto ad quel puncto & pero sta preparato & pensa bene ad quel puncto tu hai vincto ogni cosa: ma se tul perdi tu non hai facto nulla. Habbi dunque l’occhio ad questo scaccho matto: pensa sempre alla morte: che se tu non ti trovassi bene preparato ad quel puncto tu hai perduto ogni cosa che hai facto in questa vita".

The theme of Death playing chess against the Man was not neglected over subsequent centuries. On the contrary, in some cases the artists personified the theme: an example is the painting of 1790 which shows a skeleton who plays against Graf Laudon, or that of 1900, which shows Mephisto playing against the soul of doctor Faust.

In the sixteenth century, similar to this type of macabre iconography, the taste of a hidden symbolism – the Emblem – spread widely. The Emblem was a new media, less static than the previous wall representations and with some pretentious learned implications, which often used the theme of a chessboard.

The concept of sic transit gloria mundi, found in the Emblem, a literary and artistic genre, perfectly compatible with the spirit of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. The emblematic, formed by a motto and often by an explanatory poetry, theorised the possibility for man to recognise his final destiny through the interpretation of signs, and the theme of chess associated with Death, was widely used.

Very useful are the chess series of Emblems presented by Marion Faber in her book of 1988. The first Emblem of this series is of general character, the "Porta Stricta" in which men are passing with great difficulty through a trapdoor, bringing their cross towards Heaven after having renounced the instruments of their human amusements and the symbols of their vacuous social success.

There is also a series, in different languages with some variants, of an ancient poetry which perpetuate the worrying, through the moral symbolism of the chessboard, of the different value of the pieces which, at the end of the match, are all thrown together into the same sack.

These Emblems, efficacious in their cutting metaphorical meaning which implies an immediate reflection, were diffused from the sixteenth to the seventeenth centuries. We can read it in the Emblemas morales by Sebastian de Covarrubias Orozco of 1610, in which the motto is written in French "Roys, Pyons, dans les sac son eguaux, while the poetry is in Spanish:

El Rey, la Dama, arfil, roque, cauallo

Cada qual de estos, tiene enel tablero

Su casa, su poder, y en el mudallo,

Se guarda orden, i concierto entero:

Al fin del juego, por mi cuenta hallo,

Que en el saco, el peon entra primero,

Tal rematar, los bienes, y los males,

De aque sta vida, todos son iguales.

Superb are two German Emblems with motto and text in Latin in which Death appears dramatically to play against the great men of the world. In the first of 1657 the loser will be a powerful king; under the motto "et populum et Regem" Death explains to the king that it is dangerous to play chess against her because the victor will always be Death. The second, of 1686, is perhaps the most refined Emblem we know of. In the form of a triptych, it shows the sad story of Queen Barbara, fiancée of Christoph Sigmund Amman, who died at 25 years old due to serious health problems.

In the upper oval, the Queen is seated on the right of the chessboard near her father; under the motto "Et Apte et Caute" they are ready to play a game against Death which, in skeleton form, arrives on the scene from the left. Soon, Queen Barbara’s and her father’s chess position becomes difficult. In the middle oval, from the right comes the future husband Hermann Christoph Sigmund.

On the chessboard, meanwhile, Death captures many pieces and the clear strategy of the silent player tragically discloses; the purpose of Death is evident: to capture the enemy Queen, which is pursued through the chessboard. Under the motto "Sociatur ne Saucietur" the allegorical message showed in the Emblem reveals its sinister and chilling meaning.

In the third oval, under the motto "Heu dura Jactura", Death has captured the Queen, which she triumphantly shows in the left hand; Queen Barbara is slumped on her chair, while her father shouts his impotence and Christoph Sigmund shouts his pain.

In this Emblem, which speculates with its chess symbolism about the double meaning of Queen as game piece and Queen as high social position, there are all the allegories of the chessboard with its moral concerns. Death, with her sudden apparition, reaches back to the biblical principle of an equality that does not respect age or rank.

In the following centuries, the taste for this iconography lost its popularity, but in spite of this, the secular recollection of memento mori is still alive – just as the chess game which, with its allegorical and symbolic meanings, always remembers on the stage of life the eternal conflict between Life and Death.

Many thanks are due to my friend Ken Whyld who revised my English text.