friendship would reverberate for centuries.
A S MUCH AS chess inspired Benjamin Franklin’s thinking, it also scratched some sort of personal itch. He seemed to need to play it. Though he didn’t become acquainted with chess until young adulthood—comparatively late—he made up for lost time by studying incessantly, continually working to improve his game and never missing an opportunity to play. His correspondence was riddled with references to casual games with friends. In Philadelphia in his middle years, he became more and more frustrated by the dearth of skilled opponents. Admirers frequently worked to pair him with good players, and though the game was popular among the American elite, including John Adams, John Quincy Adams, James Madison, James Monroe, and Thomas Jefferson, *15 accomplished chess players were a rare find. Perhaps the best player in all the colonies, Franklin was in some ways too strong for his own good. In 1752 he reported to a friend in Europe: “Honest David Martin, Rector of our Academy, my principal Antagonist at Chess, is dead, and the few remaining Players here are very indifferent, so that I have now no need of Stamma’s Pamphlet [an advanced chess guide], and am glad you did not send it.”
In London and Paris, accomplished players abounded, and Franklin happily found himself just one of the crowd of chess aficionados. (The vastly superior chess scene there was probably not inconsequential in Franklin’s spending so many years of his later life abroad.) But even in London, Franklin was always pleased to find someone new to play with. Bad timing notwithstanding, he was enthusiastic about Lady Howe’s invitation.
On his first visit to her home, in late 1774, the two played several games together and enjoyed each other’s company. They quickly arranged for a return visit, which featured more good chess, along with some stimulating talk. At first Lady Howe steered Franklin into a discussion of mathematics; then, abruptly, she switched to politics.
“What is to be done with this dispute between Britain and the colonies?” she blurted out. “I hope we are not to have civil war. They should kiss and be friends.” Going further, she then asked Franklin bluntly if he was still willing to play a part in some sort of reconciliation.
Franklin replied that he was willing, and added that he still thought it achievable with the right interlocutors. “The two countries have really no clashing interests to differ about,” said Franklin, with a diplomat’s optimism. “It is rather a matter of punctilio, which two or three reasonable people might settle in half an hour.”
Two cerebral individuals sat together over a symbolic game of war imagining alternative ways to settle a red-hot conflict. The scene called to mind the ancient notions that chess could assist warriors in understanding combat, and perhaps replace it. It also spoke to the psychological compulsion that many players felt. “Viewed in terms of psychoanalytic theory,” psychologist Norman Reider writes, “the invention of chess expressed the triumph of secondary process thinking over the primary process. Actual warfare [is replaced by] a struggle which is organized, controlled, circumscribed and regulated.”
The irony was probably not lost on Franklin at the time. But his notes reflect that he still didn’t understand that his casual banter during that second meeting with Lady Howe was any more consequential than their symbolic moves on the board.
The shift occurred when Franklin entered Lady Howe’s home for the third time, on Christmas Day, 1774. This time Franklin was surprised to find Lord Howe, Lady Howe’s influential brother, waiting to meet him. Lord Howe represented a collection of moderates who, like Franklin, hoped to avert a collision between the crown and the colonies. He put it to Franklin directly: Would Franklin be willing to enter one final secret negotiation to avert war? Franklin
A S MUCH AS chess inspired Benjamin Franklin’s thinking, it also scratched some sort of personal itch. He seemed to need to play it. Though he didn’t become acquainted with chess until young adulthood—comparatively late—he made up for lost time by studying incessantly, continually working to improve his game and never missing an opportunity to play. His correspondence was riddled with references to casual games with friends. In Philadelphia in his middle years, he became more and more frustrated by the dearth of skilled opponents. Admirers frequently worked to pair him with good players, and though the game was popular among the American elite, including John Adams, John Quincy Adams, James Madison, James Monroe, and Thomas Jefferson, *15 accomplished chess players were a rare find. Perhaps the best player in all the colonies, Franklin was in some ways too strong for his own good. In 1752 he reported to a friend in Europe: “Honest David Martin, Rector of our Academy, my principal Antagonist at Chess, is dead, and the few remaining Players here are very indifferent, so that I have now no need of Stamma’s Pamphlet [an advanced chess guide], and am glad you did not send it.”
In London and Paris, accomplished players abounded, and Franklin happily found himself just one of the crowd of chess aficionados. (The vastly superior chess scene there was probably not inconsequential in Franklin’s spending so many years of his later life abroad.) But even in London, Franklin was always pleased to find someone new to play with. Bad timing notwithstanding, he was enthusiastic about Lady Howe’s invitation.
On his first visit to her home, in late 1774, the two played several games together and enjoyed each other’s company. They quickly arranged for a return visit, which featured more good chess, along with some stimulating talk. At first Lady Howe steered Franklin into a discussion of mathematics; then, abruptly, she switched to politics.
“What is to be done with this dispute between Britain and the colonies?” she blurted out. “I hope we are not to have civil war. They should kiss and be friends.” Going further, she then asked Franklin bluntly if he was still willing to play a part in some sort of reconciliation.
Franklin replied that he was willing, and added that he still thought it achievable with the right interlocutors. “The two countries have really no clashing interests to differ about,” said Franklin, with a diplomat’s optimism. “It is rather a matter of punctilio, which two or three reasonable people might settle in half an hour.”
Two cerebral individuals sat together over a symbolic game of war imagining alternative ways to settle a red-hot conflict. The scene called to mind the ancient notions that chess could assist warriors in understanding combat, and perhaps replace it. It also spoke to the psychological compulsion that many players felt. “Viewed in terms of psychoanalytic theory,” psychologist Norman Reider writes, “the invention of chess expressed the triumph of secondary process thinking over the primary process. Actual warfare [is replaced by] a struggle which is organized, controlled, circumscribed and regulated.”
The irony was probably not lost on Franklin at the time. But his notes reflect that he still didn’t understand that his casual banter during that second meeting with Lady Howe was any more consequential than their symbolic moves on the board.
The shift occurred when Franklin entered Lady Howe’s home for the third time, on Christmas Day, 1774. This time Franklin was surprised to find Lord Howe, Lady Howe’s influential brother, waiting to meet him. Lord Howe represented a collection of moderates who, like Franklin, hoped to avert a collision between the crown and the colonies. He put it to Franklin directly: Would Franklin be willing to enter one final secret negotiation to avert war? Franklin
Similar Books
