democracy could (temporarily) take on a concrete, if much simplified, shape. One could lift the King off the board to make a point, or simply ignore his existence. In doing so, one would be giving life to an abstract notion—making it communicable. (Inspired by Franklin’s comment and more broadly by the democratic revolution, American chess designers subsequently produced various “democratic” sets, with a President in the place of a King, and so on. But the medieval European iconography continued as the universal standard.)
Franklin was a unique figure, but in his devotion to chess in the eighteenth century he was merely one of a crowd. Chess was, quite simply,
the
recreation of choice for key constituents of the scientific and cultural awakening now known as the Enlightenment. The game inspired and fascinated such thinkers as Voltaire, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, the encyclopedist Denis Diderot, and the philosopher Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz, among others. “In the Age of Reason, the moves of the pieces were like the conclusions of syllogisms,” write expert players and chess authors Larry Parr and Lev Alburt. Perhaps more than in any previous age, the internal logic of the game itself became intertwined with the thinking of its leading proponents. The same spirit of thought guided these thinkers as they calculated chess moves and as they worked through philosophical problems: search, test, doubt, search again, test again, doubt, and on until the best course of action wiggled to the top.
So it was, then, that chess games were often entangled within great meetings and important conversations. “He seldom goes to bed till day-break, drinking coffee almost every half hour, and playing at chess,” a close observer wrote of Voltaire in 1767. “Next day he is never visible till noon, and then disagreeably so…. His house is a receptacle for all foreigners; and, as every such visitor strains his genius to entertain him, no wonder, by such a quick succession of all the several inhabitants of the four quarters of the world, that Voltaire has such an universal knowledge of mankind.”
The line was often indistinguishable between the game of chess and the ideas it helped fertilize. In 1754 the Jewish philosopher Moses Mendelssohn and the Lutheran dramatist Gotthold Lessing met over a chessboard and quickly became regular opponents, good friends, and indispensable colleagues. Lessing later modeled the lead character in his play
Nathan the Wise
on Mendelssohn. The play itself includes much chess, which Lessing used both to facilitate and to drive the dialogue between the enlightened Muslim sultan Saladin and his sister Sittah. Lessing and his friends considered chess to be a useful metaphorical tool in their quest to promote social tolerance.
Chess could help this cause in two substantial ways. First, the interaction of the actual pieces offered a sophisticated comment on social stratification and the true nature of power. While at first the different pieces appeared to be severely unequal, any seasoned player knew that each had strengths to be reckoned with. Pawns, particularly working together, could hold their own and even sometimes dominate a region of the board. The lesson from this was that each member of a society has particular virtues, regardless of social rank.
Second, as a game won or lost purely on skill, chess offered as level a playing field as one could find in society. Indeed, it was the epitome of meritocracy, an arena where advancement was procured solely on the basis of skill. Judging people on their contributions to society rather than their inherited wealth, race, or religion was at the root of the campaign for social tolerance. The mutual respect between the bourgeois Lessing and the impoverished Jew Mendelssohn served as a public example for all to follow. Mendelssohn’s last written work, in fact, was an intellectual defense of Lessing. The message of religious tolerance that spilled out of their
Franklin was a unique figure, but in his devotion to chess in the eighteenth century he was merely one of a crowd. Chess was, quite simply,
the
recreation of choice for key constituents of the scientific and cultural awakening now known as the Enlightenment. The game inspired and fascinated such thinkers as Voltaire, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, the encyclopedist Denis Diderot, and the philosopher Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz, among others. “In the Age of Reason, the moves of the pieces were like the conclusions of syllogisms,” write expert players and chess authors Larry Parr and Lev Alburt. Perhaps more than in any previous age, the internal logic of the game itself became intertwined with the thinking of its leading proponents. The same spirit of thought guided these thinkers as they calculated chess moves and as they worked through philosophical problems: search, test, doubt, search again, test again, doubt, and on until the best course of action wiggled to the top.
So it was, then, that chess games were often entangled within great meetings and important conversations. “He seldom goes to bed till day-break, drinking coffee almost every half hour, and playing at chess,” a close observer wrote of Voltaire in 1767. “Next day he is never visible till noon, and then disagreeably so…. His house is a receptacle for all foreigners; and, as every such visitor strains his genius to entertain him, no wonder, by such a quick succession of all the several inhabitants of the four quarters of the world, that Voltaire has such an universal knowledge of mankind.”
The line was often indistinguishable between the game of chess and the ideas it helped fertilize. In 1754 the Jewish philosopher Moses Mendelssohn and the Lutheran dramatist Gotthold Lessing met over a chessboard and quickly became regular opponents, good friends, and indispensable colleagues. Lessing later modeled the lead character in his play
Nathan the Wise
on Mendelssohn. The play itself includes much chess, which Lessing used both to facilitate and to drive the dialogue between the enlightened Muslim sultan Saladin and his sister Sittah. Lessing and his friends considered chess to be a useful metaphorical tool in their quest to promote social tolerance.
Chess could help this cause in two substantial ways. First, the interaction of the actual pieces offered a sophisticated comment on social stratification and the true nature of power. While at first the different pieces appeared to be severely unequal, any seasoned player knew that each had strengths to be reckoned with. Pawns, particularly working together, could hold their own and even sometimes dominate a region of the board. The lesson from this was that each member of a society has particular virtues, regardless of social rank.
Second, as a game won or lost purely on skill, chess offered as level a playing field as one could find in society. Indeed, it was the epitome of meritocracy, an arena where advancement was procured solely on the basis of skill. Judging people on their contributions to society rather than their inherited wealth, race, or religion was at the root of the campaign for social tolerance. The mutual respect between the bourgeois Lessing and the impoverished Jew Mendelssohn served as a public example for all to follow. Mendelssohn’s last written work, in fact, was an intellectual defense of Lessing. The message of religious tolerance that spilled out of their
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