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Chess may not immediately spring to mind as the most exciting collectable market, but its capacity to turn a board game into headlines should not be underestimated. Bonhams Auctioneers in London on October 11th hosts its Islamic sale in which two 9th or 10th century Chess pieces, a Queen and a Rook, are expected to make £15,000 each.
This in itself would not be particularly remarkable were it not for the fact that in April, Christie’s in King Street, London sold a single Islamic 10th or 11th century chess piece for £828,750. The ivory piece, thought to have been made in Egypt or Syria shattered the previous world record set at Sotheby’s of £155,000 for a similar example.
Bonhams Islamic Department consultant Stephen Wolff explains, "Buyers who spend this sort of money view these pieces as medieval works of art. In the case of the Christie’s sale, that piece had been bought a few months previously by a dealer from an auction in the Midlands for just £1,000, so that was a very lucky break for someone. However, when Sotheby’s had a similar example in a sale back in 1985 that sold for just a few thousand, it wasn’t until yet another piece made £155,000 that anyone commented on the figures."
Phillips’ Chess specialist Luke Honey holds his next regular chess auction on November 7th and adds, "The Christie’s result was extraordinary and probably down to the fact that there is a similar example in the British Museum and most of us believe that the Christie’s piece and the British Museum piece were probably both from the same set originally. I heard that it was two Middle-Eastern princes who were bidding against each other, which would explain why the figure reached was quite as high as it was."
For a game that is believed to date from around 2,500 BC, chess has a remarkably low profile as a collectable outside the intense world of specialist chess collectors, the vast majority of whom are men. Luke Honey adds, "It’s the German 17th century amber sets that are deemed the ultimate "must-have" set among collectors. These are extraordinary quality and of course rare given the date. When they do appear they make £50,000-£60,000 but the chess collecting world is very insular and most collectors know each other so sets like this at the top end of the market are usually traded by collectors to collectors in secret and rarely come up at auction."
Christie’s at King Street in London is preparing for its sale of the Allen Hofrichter Chess Collection on September 20th, but even this selection of 150 sets is unlikely to contain any sleepers that will outdo the £33,000 Christie’s achieved in 1997. Christie’s Chess specialist Pippa Green explains, "This rare regency silver and silver-gilt chess set came up in the European Works of Art and Furniture sale at the time. It was particularly fine, made by Edward Farrell, one of the finest craftsmen working in the rococo revival style which is why it doubled the estimate."
Not everything of course reaches such heights. Christie’s examples being sold in September include a set after George Tinworth; the famous designer whose stoneware mice made for the Royal Doulton Lambeth Ware factory are extremely sought after. The estimate is £3,000-£5,000 simply because despite bearing the initials "GT" the set is missing a proper Royal Doulton backstamp – an element collectors deem to be of utmost importance given that many successful designs were copied by contemporaries at the time. An early 20th century Max Esser designed Meissen manufactured chess set featuring sealife has a £3,000-£5,000 estimate while a Wedgwood example also made around the same time has a £1,000-£2,000 estimate. Such sets may be miniature works of art, but not necessarily the best of collectable investments given the purchase price paid by Hofrichter. Pippa Green explains, "We have receipts which show that Allen Hofrichter bought the Italian alabaster set depicting Benito Mussolini and Emperor Haile Selassie of Abyssinia’s army for $80 back in 1955, and we have a £1,000 estimate on that set. But the carved wooden set modelled on the bears of Berne which cost Mr. Hofrichter $60 that same year, we do expect to make £3,500 in the sale."
For the novice collector looking for a chess set as a gift, game or possible investment a Staunton set is the first step. Created and named after the English Grandmaster Howard Staunton and designed by Nathaniel Cook in 1835 Staunton sets were brought in to standardise chess pieces. Serious competition players had, until this point, complained that the array of fancy chess sets was off putting and could be used by competitors to distract and thus gain an upper hand in the game. Phillips’ Luke Honey expects a Staunton set in a rare and unusual cask box to realise £1,000 in November, "This is unlike any previous Staunton example I have seen before but generally I have been revising the prices of Staunton sets downwards. Two to three years ago Stauntons were making crazy prices. The Internet had kicked in and opened up the whole market worldwide. The result was, particularly among American collectors, that Staunton sets that fetched £300 just a few years before were suddenly regularly selling for £1,000. Now the market has adjusted to the change and collectors are holding on for the very best, complete examples."
Such a turnaround usually impacts the top end of the market positively, but leaves the bottom end of the market struggling to make up past losses. However, in the world of chess sets this has not been the case. In fact, at the bottom end of the market business is booming. Luke Honey adds, "Prices collectors are paying for what we call Alice Through the Looking Glass sets are really moving. These sets were everywhere in the early 19th century when chess playing was at its peak. Small workshops made and turned each piece which would be made of bone and sold in fancy goods shops. The pieces were based on the chess set featured in the Tenniel drawings seen in Alice Through the Looking Glass, hence the name. Five years ago you’d expect a good example to make £100-£150 at most, but now with the Americans buying so freely over the Internet these sets are deemed to be quintessentially English and US buying has pushed prices to £300-£400 for an example."
The right chess set, or chess piece, bought or sold at the right time clearly offers potential rewards generalist collectors would not probably associate with such a quiet game. However, Bonhams Stephen Wolff puts this board game in context, "Chess has a fascinating history you know. For example, there was a version of Chess played in India, where losers quite literally lost a finger in chess challenges which seemed to be a gesture made in a bizarre medieval blood-thirsty sense of humour."
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par Bernard Lucas
Et oui ! Ce génial stratège qu'était Napoléon était un piètre joueur d'échecs. Après son passage à l'école royale d'artillerie de la Fère, il devient officier.
Le lieutenant Bonaparte jouait souvent au café de la Régence à Paris. Ses débuts étaient mauvais; si son adversaire calculait trop longtemps, il se pinçait les lèvres, frappait du pied et battait du tambour avec impatience sur le rebord de l'échiquier, ce qui ne laissait pas que de faire danser les pièces et de troubler le jeu. S'il perdait, c'était bien pis encore; il donnait quelque fois de grands coups de poing sur la table et faisait tout sauter. Cependant, lorsque l'action était une fois bien engagée, quand la mêlée devenait vive, il avait souvent des coups très brillants. Son ancien camarade Bourrienne le dépeint pendant la campagne d'Italie:
"Bonaparte jouait aussi aux échecs, mais très rarement, et cela parce qu'il n'était que de troisième force et qu'il n'aimait point à être battu à ce jeu qui passe on ne sait trop pourquoi pour une prétendue imitation du grand jeu de la guerre. À celui là Bonaparte ne craignait personne.
Cela me rappelle qu'en partant de Passeriano, il déclare que nous passerions par Mantoue. On lui dit que le général commandant la place qui était, je crois le général Beauvoir, était un des plus forts joueurs d'échecs. Bonaparte désira faire sa partie. Le général Beauvoir lui demanda de désigner le pion qui ferait mat, en déclarant que si ce dernier était pris, il gagnait la partie.
Bonaparte désigna le dernier pion à gauche de son adversaire, on y mit une petite marque et ce fut ce pion qui fit le mat. Bonaparte n'était rien de moins que content. Il aimait bien jouer avec moi parce que, bien qu'un peu plus fort que lui, je n'étais pas assez fort pour le gagner toujours. Dès qu'une partie était à lui, il cessait le jeu pour rester sur ses lauriers."
En Égypte, Bonaparte jouait aux échecs avec M. Poussielgue, ordonnateur de l'armée d'Orient et avec M. Amédé Jaubert. Poussielgue le battait quelquefois. Il jouait souvent à la Malmaison.
Mémoire de Mme de Rémusat soirée du 20 mars 1804 avant l'exécution du duc d'Enghein à Vincennes.
Bonaparte l'invita à jouer après le dîner (avant il lui avait simplement demandé de la conseiller au cours d'une partie qu'il faisait avec l'un de ses hôtes) mais, dit-elle, le jeu du premier consul était fort médiocre. De plus il ne voulait pas se soumettre à la marche normale des pièces. Mme de Rémusat le laissa faire "ce qui lui plaisait". Au cours de la partie, il prononça à mi-voix "Soyons amis Cinna", puis les vers de Guzman dans "Alzire" de Voltaire: "Et le mien, quand ton bras vient de m'assassiner, m'ordonne de te plaindre et de te pardonner". Nous jouions encore quand le bruit d'une voiture se fit entendre : On annonça le général Hullin.
Juillet 1809 après Wagram à Schoenbrunn: Mémoires de Constant.
M. Maezel avait aussi fabriqué un automate connu dans toute l'Europe sous le nom de "Joueur d'échecs". L'automate était assis devant une table sur laquelle le jeu d'échecs était disposé. Sa majesté prend une chaise et s'assied en face de l'automate et dit en riant: «Allons! mon camarade; à nous deux».
L'automate salue et fait signe de la main à l'empereur comme pour lui dire de commencer. La partie engagée, l'empereur fait deux ou trois coups et pose exprès une pièce à faux. L'automate salue, prend la pièce et la remet à sa place. Sa majesté triche une seconde fois; l'automate salue encore, mais il confisque la pièce. "C'est juste" dit sa majesté et pour la troisième elle triche. Alors l'automate secoue la tête et passant la main sur l'échiquier, il renverse tout le jeu. L'empereur fit de grands compliments au mécanicien...
Pendant la campagne de Pologne, il reçoit l'ambassadeur de Perse alors qu'il joue aux échecs avec Berthier. Il joue avec Murat, Bourrienne, Berthier et le duc de Bassano pendant la campagne de Moscou; selon le duc de Bassano, il débutait mal, mais au milieu de partie, il voyait au delà de 3 ou 4 coups.
Il joue aux échecs sur le Northumberland qui s'amène à Saint-Hélène et là, il fait sa partie tout les jours. Mme de Montholon raconte: "Quelquefois il établissait "pièce touchée, pièce jouée", mais c'était seulement pour son adversaire, pour lui c'était différent et il avait toujours une bonne raison pour que cela ne comptât et si on lui faisait l'observation, il riait."
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par Murray J.J.R. (A history of chess. Oxford University Press, 1913, vol. 1)
1) Période asiatique
a) Données archéologiques
Les premiers jeux que nous puissions considérer comme ancêtres du jeu d'échecs moderne étaient faits de quadrillages sur lesquels on déplaçait des pièces. On a trouvé trace de tels jeux dans les fouilles de Harappa et Mohenjo-Daro (Pakistan-IVe millénaire). Plus près de nous (1200 avant notre ère), une peinture thébaine représente le pharaon Ramsès III jouant à un jeu de ce type.
b) Période sanscrite
Mais l'ancêtre direct du jeu contemporain apparaît vers le milieu du Ve siècle de notre ère, dans le Nord-Ouest de l'Inde. Ce jeu porte le nom de Chaturanga, ce qui signifie quatre membres, et oppose, sur un échiquier de soixante-quatre cases, quatre partenaires jouant chacun pour leur propre compte. Chaque camp comprend un Roi, un cheval, un éléphant, un navire appelé à devenir plus tard un charriot et quatre pions-fantassins (nous retrouvons là les quatre divisions militaires de l'époque: cavalerie, éléphanterie, subsistances et infanterie). Les coups sont déterminés par le lancement de deux dés, qui indiquent la pièce devant être jouée. Trois étapes vont marquer l'évolution de ce jeu indien et lui permettre d'offrir très tôt une image proche de celle du jeu actuel, à quelques différences de marche des pièces près.
c) Période perse
À l'occasion des échanges commerciaux et culturels entre pays voisins, le Chaturanga va être exporté dans deux directions: vers l'Est où il donne naissance à divers jeux encore en pratique en Chine, Mongolie, Japon.. et à l'Ouest, en Iran, où il connait immédiatement une immense popularité sous le nom de Shatrang. C'est à cette époque que se fixe le vocabulaire encore en usage de nos jours: «C'est sous leur forme persane que la plupart des termes d'échecs nous sont parvenus. Le nom même des échecs vient du persan, où Shah mat signifie «Le roi est mort». L'expression subsiste en russe, où le nom actuel des échecs est Chaxmaty. Plusieurs autres langues de l'Europe, à l'instar de l'allemand, n'en ont conservé que le premier élément Schah, qui est le nom du roi ou Schah de Perse. Parvenu en France par l'intermédiaire des Arabes, le mot s'y trouve dès la chanson de Roland sous la forme eschec, eschas..,» précise un linguiste.
d) Période arabe
Avec la conquête de la Perse, en 651, les Arabes adoptent le jeu d'échecs et vont lui assurer la place prééminente qu'il occupera à l'époque médiévale. Ce jeu est fort prisé des souverains musulmans et, sous leurs règnes, apparaissent les premiers grands joueurs et les premiers théoriciens; on trouve trace à partir de cette époque de traités consacrés au jeu, aux fins de partie --- nommées mansouba--- notamment. L'isolement des phases tactiques hors du contexte de la partie va progressivement donner naissance aux premiers problèmes d'échecs et aux premières études artistiques. Les conquêtes arabes vont assurer la diffusion du jeu dans toute l'Afrique du Nord et le Sud de l'Europe, en Espagne, Portugal, Sicile... Nous sommes au début du deuxième millénaire de notre ère, la période européenne commence.
2) Période européenne
a) Période médiévale
Les croisades vont définitivement assurer l'introduction et le succès des échecs dans l'Europe médiévale, jusqu'en Islande et en Russie. Pour les nobles féodaux, c'est le seul jeu de réflexion existant, et qu'il soit à l'image de la guerre ajoute encore à sa séduction. Il fait partie intégrante de la vie quotidienne des châteaux, il occupe une place de choix dans la littérature médiévale ---romans épiques, poésies galantes et chansons de gestes---, il figure dans l'éducation des jeunes nobles des deux sexes et, pour les femmes, il est un des rares domaines leur permettant de se poser en égales des hommes.
Les premiers manuscrits européens apparaissent au XIIIe siècle: Manuscrit de Jacobus De Cessolis (vers 1200), manuscrit d'Alonzo (roi de Castille de 1252 à 1284) et surtout manuscrit du «Bonus Socius» (1286), qui contient 192 problèmes, certains déjà remarquables. Les paris et enjeux d'argent qui accompagnent les parties provoquent vite le courroux de l'Église: Condamnation du jeu par les évêques Guy et Eudes de Sully (en 1208), anthème par le Concile de Paris (1212), confirmé par Louis IX en France. Mais ces mesures ont peu d'effets et sont bientôt rapportées; au milieu du XIIIe siècle, le jeu d'échecs est d'un usage courant dans les communautés religieuses. Il ne pénètre que difficilement les autres couches sociales, en dehors des grands bourgeois et des étudiants; seuls les juifs lui font un accueil favorable, il est l'un des rares (et parfois le seul) jeux autorisés pendant le Sabbat.
Durant cette période médiévale, l'évolution des règles continue; la marche des pièces se fixe peu à peu, avec, au début du XVe siècle, la dernière, mais non la moindre, révolution: La Dame devient soudainement la pièce la plus puissante de l'échiquier et donne au jeu un caractère beaucoup plus animé; la marche des pions, le roque trouvent aussi leur codification quasi définitive. Les changements sociaux, en bouleversant le mode de vie des seigneurs féodaux, vont entraîner la disparition de la civilisation moyenâgeuse et causer la fin de cette vogue des échecs.
b) Période moderne
Les règles du jeu sont maintenant à peu près fixées et le jeu d'échecs va suivre l'évolution du courant des idées philosophiques et sociales. L'élan intellectuel de la Renaissance lui fait connaître une nouvelle période faste au XVIe siècle; les souverains se révèlent mécènes et les plus forts joueurs de l'époque peuvent vivre de leur art; Philippe II fait disputer en 1575 à Madrid le premier tournoi moderne entre les quatre meilleurs joueurs de l'époque. La découverte de l'imprimerie aide à la diffusion du jeu et permet la parution de nombreux traités spécialisés.
Le XVIIIe siècle, celui des philosophes français, voit le jeu entrer dans sa période rationnelle, avec le musicien français Philidor dont l'ouvrage L'Analyse, publié en 1749, pose pour la première fois les échecs comme science possédant ses principes propres. Rousseau, Diderot sont des amateurs passionnés; l'Encyclopédie consacre un article aux échecs. Cette primauté de l'école française va durer presque un siècle, Deschapelles, La Bourdonnais et Saint-Amant succédant à Philidor.
La première moitié du XIXe siècle voit une lutte acharnée entre les écoles françaises et anglaises (Mc Donnell, Staunton), puis le jeu prend une dimension internationale et le tournoi de Londres, en 1851, marque le début de l'ère moderne.
Fixons, par quelques noms, l'évolution des idées durant cette période. L'Américain Paul Morphy traverse cette histoire comme un météore (157-1858), dominant tous ses adversaires dans un style clair et éblouissant, avant de se retirer de la scène échiquéenne à 21 ans. Anderssen, génial tacticien, domine les premières décennies de cette ère moderne. Steinitz lui succède en 1866; son analyse du jeu est d'une extrême profondeur, il démontre l'importance de détails passés inaperçus jusque-là et il organise à partir d'eux des plans d'une rigueur scientifique qui conduisent au gain; avec lui, on a pu dire que le positivisme philosophique était entré dans le monde des échecs. Emmanuel Lasker, champion du monde de 1894 à 1921, se comporte pour sa part en disciple de Schopenhauer; il introduit dans le jeu les notions de lutte intellectuelle entre deux volontés et de combat psychologique. Le début du XXe siècle marque l'apogée de l'école classique, sous le contrôle du «praeceptor germaniae» Tarrasch; on voit les successeurs de Steinitz jouer d'une manière de plus en plus mécanique et scolastique, l'opposition de joueurs trop peu imaginatifs et trop respectueux des principes orthodoxes fournit un nombre croissant de parties nulles.
En réaction à cette sclérose progressive apparaissent vers 1915 de nouvelles théories qui s'opposent point par point au dogmatisme classique et prônent la liberté de pensée du joueur. Cette révolution hypermoderne a lieu sous l'impulsion de Breyer, Réti et, en marge de tous, Nimzovitch. Les principaux champions de l'époque sont le Cubain Capablanca, exemple de ce que l'école classique pouvait avoir de meilleur, et le Russo-Français Alekhine, qui associe aux principes steinitziens bien des idées hypermodernes.
Depuis les années quarante, l'école soviétique s'est imposée; elle se caractérise par l'importance attachée au dynamisme et aux possibilités agressives du jeu, remettant en cause certains principes classiques comme la valeur relative des pièces; pour paraphraser Clausewitz, les échecs sont ici, comme la guerre, le prolongement de la politique et de l'idéologie. La suprématie soviétique sur le monde des échecs est totale depuis 1948: Tous les champions du monde sont soviétiques de 1948 à aujourd'hui, en dehors de l'intermède de l'Américain Fischer de 1972 à 1975; l'équipe d'U.R.S.S. a remporté tous les championnats du monde par équipes auxquels elle a participé depuis 1952, sauf le plus récent (Buenos Aires, 1978), où elle ne se classe que deuxième derrière la Hongrie; il est possible de s'interroger sur ce résultat: Est-ce l'annonce de la fin de la suprématie russe aux échecs ? En marge de l'U.R.S.S., les autres pays socialistes obtiennent également des résultats très brillants, en raison de la place qu'ils réservent aux échecs dans leur mode de vie. La part de l'historique est bien finie, nous sommes dans le domaine de notre quotidien.
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par Ron Canter
(A seasonal diversion set in an omnibus, a Town Hall, a Museum and Art Gallery and a police cell; concerning Thompson's adventures with milk bottles, a stuffed turtle and a chess set.)
Dramatis Personae:
Thompson (A notorious eccentric)
Mrs. Thompson (Thompson's wife)
Jumbo Pratt (The chess club joker)
Arnold Pratt (deceased) Jumbo's grandfather
Albert (A stuffed turtle)
Scruffy (A detainee)
and
A milkman, a bus driver, and two large police officers.
Christmas Eve commenced with yet another portent of doom for Thompson. For the last two weeks he had been communicating by note with his milkman about failure to remove empty milk bottles from his doorstep, and the last missive had been particularly acrimonious, with a decidedly negative attitude towards the customary annual gratuity. But that morning Thompson opened his front door in a spirit of gaiety and anticipation as the chess club's Christmas party was scheduled for that very evening, with the promise of alcoholic beverages, mince pies, paper hats, blitz chess, entertainment by the lady members and other delights too numerous to mention. His mood was then deflated when he saw through his porch door a sea of milk bottles stretching, if not as far as the eye could see, then at least all the way down his path to the front gate.
Refusing to be downcast by this unexpected sight, Thompson opened the porch door, intending to pick his way through the bottles and continue to work as normal, fully confident that his resourceful wife would handle the problem before he returned - this would be a small matter compared with some of the situations she had been accustomed to deal with during her eventful marriage. It was at this point that fate dealt our hero another physical blow which had repercussions on his chess-playing activities. Although the milkman later admitted to placing the bottles on the pathway, he adamantly denied balancing on top of the porch door the bottle which fell and bounced off Thompson's head as he stepped out. Whoever was responsible, the result was that Thompson boarded his bus carrying an empty milk bottle in one hand, with two more bottles stuffed into the pockets of his overcoat and a silly smile on his face. If it had been anyone else, eyebrows would have been raised and comments would have been passed, but as it was Thompson there was no reaction from his fellow commuters who carried on with their conversations, newspapers and crosswords.
Twenty minutes later the bus pulled into the central bus station and all the passengers except Thompson alighted. He remained seated, gazing straight in front of him until the driver shook him by the shoulder, whereupon he jumped up with a shout and was swiftly and skilfully ejected from the bus in a manner born of previous experience. Thompson then made his way to work in our local town hall, disposing of the milk bottles in a waste bin on the way.
Fortunately, as in most municipal offices, it was customary to do little or no work on Christmas Eve (did someone say "nor at any other time"?) and so there was ample opportunity for me to listen to and note Thompson's story as he related it to me. He described it as a dream, something akin to an out-of-body experience, as though he was watching all the events from outside and above. He vaguely remembered opening the door of his porch, then the fantasy started with scenes from the past being played out before his eyes, before moving on to events in the town hall on the day of the chess club party, and then to the chess club itself.
This was Thompson's dream as I recorded it, and to avoid confusion I shall refer to characters as they appear in the dream in italics.
Thompson watched as Jumbo Pratt, the chess club's inveterate practical joker, set in motion one of his most complicated and ambitious stunts. Just like Charles Dickens's "A Christmas Carol", scenes developed before Thompson's astonished eyes, for all the world like a scratchy old film. It seemed that Jumbo's great grandfather, whose hobby was taxidermy, used to work in the kitchen of a local hotel and thus had access to various subjects for his favourite leisure activity. Sometimes turtle soup was on the menu, and as this was a high-class establishment - The Imperial, no less - it was real turtle soup and the carcases would pass into the eager hands of Jumbo's ancestor. As the hotel never had elephant soup on the menu he did not achieve his greatest ambition, but nevertheless he was more than happy to work with turtles and after several tries produced his masterpiece - a realistically vicious looking specimen with beady eyes and ferocious jaws.
This impressive example of the taxidermist's art, nicknamed Albert, became a family heirloom and eventually came into the possession of Jumbo, who had been waiting and planning for the right time to use it in one of his practical jokes.
As Thompson looked down in his dream the location changed to the present day and he saw scenes of hilarious disruption in the Town Hall as Albert the stuffed turtle was carefully hidden then revealed, to the astonishment and alarm of various members of staff. A particularly effective revelation occurred in the kitchenette, to the great surprise of some ladies who were busily engaged in the vital task of washing up teacups. Never had such a rapid exodus been made from the kitchen, and never had so many cups been broken at the same time. It was surpassed only by the hysterical flight of the telephonists from the switchboard a few minutes later. The City Treasurer was passing at the time and enquired what was going on, but Jumbo improvised hastily and told him an enormous mouse was at large, which seemed to satisfy him. Thompson saw no sign of himself during these scenes.
The setting then changed to the chess club, held in that centre of cultural activity, the Museum and Art Gallery, where Thompson saw himself for the first time, playing a friendly game and contentedly munching a mince pie. Little did he know that Albert had been secretly deposited by Jumbo on the table behind him, covered by somebody's coat. Jumbo was then seen to slip out to a public telephone and make a call to the local police, pretending to be a curator. He reported that a suspicious looking individual, recognised as a member of the chess club, had misappropriated a valuable exhibit from the museum, namely an extremely rare specimen of the South American Snapping Turtle. This person, probably some sort of maniac or drunkard as he was a chess club member, had been seen taking the turtle into the chess room and would the police kindly send two of their largest officers to retrieve it before it came to harm. The exhibit was irreplaceable and rapid action was essential. Jumbo gave a brief description of Thompson.
In Thompson's dream, Jumbo then returned quickly to the chess club festivities, secretly removed Albert's covering and said "Hey, Thompson - what's that behind you?" Thompson looked round, and encountered Albert's malignant gaze. Not having been privy to Albert's previous appearances (although he was vaguely aware of Jumbo having done things with a mouse that afternoon as part of his usual Christmas Eve pranks) Thompson was startled and jumped up from his chair. At that point, Jumbo's timing being perfect, two large plainclothes policemen entered the room, quickly recognised Thompson and uttered those time-honoured phrases, "Hey, you" and "What's going on 'ere?". Thompson then caught sight of Jumbo, who was unable to prevent a smirk spreading across his face, and realised that a jape was in progress. Thinking that the policemen were some sort of stripagram as part of the Christmas celebrations, he entered into the spirit of things by grabbing Albert and making as if to strike the first policeman with him.
From then on events in the dream sequence moved rapidly. Thompson found himself in an armlock and propelled on tiptoe to a police car, driven at speed to the police station and thrown into a cell before he could catch his breath.
The bare cell contained only a table and chairs, two beds and another occupant lying on one of the beds, who totally ignored Thompson. In accordance with police procedure, all of his personal possessions had been confiscated, although by accident or design he still had his pocket chess set. Having no other means of passing the time he pulled out the set and began to move the pieces around, and at this stage his companion, an exceedingly hairy and unkempt individual, got up and came across to the table. "Play chess, do yer?" he asked, and when Thompson admitted to playing a little, immediately challenged him to a game.
Expecting to have to explain the rules, Thompson agreed to play his cellmate, whom he had mentally named Scruffy, and was not surprised when his opponent's first move as White was Pawn to Queen Rook four. However after a few more moves he realised he had been overconfident as he found himself being bounced around the board in a rather strange game. Scruffy delivered checkmate in forty moves, and then announced that he did not always open with that particular pawn, sometimes he started with the pawn on the other side of the board - perhaps Thompson would like to play against that opening move. This was agreed to, and although our hero tried to play more carefully he was forced to resign after thirty three moves on being faced with mate by an artistic backward move of the Queen, or the loss of a piece.
At this point the cell door was flung open and Thompson was told that he was now free as there had been a misunderstanding. He just had time before leaving to bid Scruffy farewell and give him his chess set - he didn't know what he had done but he could only admire his chess-playing talent and it was Christmas after all.
It turned out (still in the dream) that Jumbo had felt rather guilty about the way his joke had developed, and had phoned the police to tell them that the whole thing was a prank. They could check with the real curator if they wished to confirm this. The police did check with the curator, who confirmed that the Museum had not reported a theft and had never possessed a South American Snapping Turtle - however, if such a specimen did exist they would be very interested in acquiring it.
The police were extremely disappointed at the way things had transpired as they had a long schedule of very novel charges to be brought against the unfortunate Thompson.
Theft of a stuffed turtle.
Threatening a police officer with a stuffed turtle.
Unlawful possession of a stuffed turtle.
Unlicensed possession of a foreign animal, namely one stuffed turtle.
Creating a disturbance with a stuffed turtle, etc, etc.
There had even been a competition in the police station to see who could invent the most original charge.
After somewhat reluctant apologies by the police, Thompson's possessions were returned to him, Albert was tucked under his arm, and he was escorted out of the police station and sent on his way with an exhortation to "watch it in future." And at that stage he suddenly found himself back to reality in the bus station and followed his usual route to work, musing about his realistic dream, still unsure whether he was fantasising or not.
During the day Thompson re-orientated himself into the real world once more, a procedure which had become second nature to him, and that evening after work, we proceeded to the chess club and joined in the festivities. During a break between conjuring tricks by Fingers Pearson (assisted by the lovely Belinda) and a musical interlude by the lady members, Thompson showed me his games with Scruffy.
As we played through and recorded the moves, which Thompson remembered perfectly even though normally he couldn't recall his games, Jumbo wandered up and showed great interest. On hearing a brief summary of Thompson's dream he turned rather pale and asked us to accompany him. With some trepidation we did this, wondering what he was up to, becoming even more nervous when he led us through the darkened galleries of the Museum.
Eventually we halted in front of a glass case in an obscure corner of a remote gallery and Jumbo fumbled for the light switch. When the light came on Thompson jumped and clutched my arm. Sitting in the cabinet, glaring at us with glittering eyes was a savage-looking stuffed turtle, identical, Thompson swore, to Albert. A small card in the case said.
A fine specimen of the rare South American Snapping Turtle, presented to the Museum by the great grandson of an amateur taxidermist of exceptional talent, the late Mr. Arnold Pratt.
We left the gallery in silence. Jumbo and I went to catch the end of the musical entertainment and then look once more at those unusual games, while a shaken Thompson, unable to face any more of the celebrations, went home to explain to his wife why she had been left to dispose of numerous milk bottles. I don't think he mentioned his dream to her - even she wouldn't have believed it.
Thompson's games against Scruffy were as follows:
Scruffy vs
Thompson
#1
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par Jean-Pierre Cuvillier
L'époque des Croisades se caractérise par la découverte des technologies orientales. L'Espagne fut naturellement un relai de ce transfert de connaissances et, vers le milieu du XIIIe siècle, l'un des souverains les plus érudits se consacra à diffuser en Occident un savoir et une terminologie qui faisaient défaut à nos praticiens. Le roi Alphonse X de Castille, dit le Sage, à juste titre, transmit ainsi à ses comtemporains des traités de droit, de médecine et un célèbre Livre des Échecs. C'est à tous ces titres qu'un récent Colloque consacré au vocabulaire médiéval lui a rendu un hommage particulier.
On trouve de plus en plus couramment à partir du XIIe siècle dans les actes notariés (inventaires, testaments) la mention d'échiquiers. Et ce, même dans l'énumération des biens de pauvres chevaliers, où, à côté de quelques tapis et ferrailles, ils représentent l'essentiel de la valeur du mobilier.
Le Libro del Açedrez - c'est son titre exact, car on le modernise depuis le XVIIIe siècle en Libros de Ajedrez - venait donc à point nommé, conçu qu'il était comme la syntèse de diverses traductions juives et arabes afin de procurer, tant à des gens de cour qu'à un public populaire, les règles de la science du tablero.
À l'occasion du Colloque précité, le Professeur Hans Scherer, de Cologne a donné une interprétation fort pertinente de l'alphonsine entreprise d'un manuel échiquéen. Je ne puis qu'en retracer ici les grandes lignes, en priant le lecteur de ne point s'effrayer de la sémantique universitaire. (Mais quelques citations nous reconduiraont au Tablero).
Le
Libro
est la codification d'un système symbolique
Il s'agit d'y exprimer les hiérarchies d'une armée féodale de ce temps.
Les peones (paysans) sont les "huit de ces figures de moindre valeur; elles ont été créées comme modèle du petit peuple qui accompagne l'armée".
La tour, "roque" (en ital. rocca), est décrite comme l'authentique château, légal, construit avec la permission des autorités publiques, ce qui était l'idéal des souverains de ce temps. On la dira donc roc ou rocher, ce qui signifie: Un vrai château fort.
Notre fou est un "alfil", c'est-à-dire, selon ce terme d'origine arabe, un "éléphant" mais, par un jeu de mot, Alphonse X y voit aussi un "alférez", soit, selon l'arabe encore, un chevalier qui porte les insignes de guerre du roi: En somme, un gonfalonnier comme dans la France de Saint-Louis, comtemporain d'Alphonse. Notons que l'Allemagne en fera un "Läufer", un courrier. Mais le "Libro" va encore plus loin à propos de cette figure qui a toujours intrigué les stratèges échiquéens. Le fou est aussi un "peon alferzado", ou, si j'interprète le plus précisément possible un "soldat d'élite placé au service" de la reine et non à celui du roi: Prémonition de Ruy Blas.. !
Quantification des possiblités de mouvement
Le cheval. Traduisons simplement mais partiellement en raison de ce qui précède: «Il marche une case comme un roque et une case comme un alfil. En droite ligne comme une tour, puis de biais comme un éléphant...»
La dame est l'objet de tous les soucis du stratège, à l'inverse de son illustre époux. Elle est dite en latin "domina" (rien d'original, femme de seigneur) mais le "libro" explique qu'elle est fondamentalement une ALFFERZA. Ici les choses se compliquent mais la sémantique hispano-orientale nous les rends plus claires. L'allemand la désigne d'ailleurs comme «porte-drapeau» (Fähnrich). Elle est une sorte de "vizir", dit Alphonse, c'est-à-dire une commandante de soldats dont on ne connaît pas le nombre mais qui la nomme alferza. Le "Libro" quantifie ses déplacements de la manière suivante: "L'alfferza" peut en 33 coups parcourir toutes les cases de l'échiquier et revenir à son point de départ; à condition cependant de n'avoir point été contrainte de passer à deux reprises sur la même case". Cette "chevauchée de la reine" est donc, par analogie avec la chevauchée du "cavallo" ou "cavalgada", dénommée "alfferzada".
Sur ce point particulier, il semble qu'Alphonse de Castille ait vulgarisé une simplification importante des mouvements de la dame introduite par les Arabes par rapport au jeu primitif dit "Tschaturanga", qui était encore en honneur au XIIIe siècle en Orient. En dépit de la grande liberté d'action qui lui était reconnue, la dame perdait le pouvoir, quasi magique, du vizir originel de quitter sa case de départ en sautant par-dessus les 3 fantassins qui la couvrent (c2, d2, e2...). L'alfferzada exige donc une ouverture.
Enfin, signe d'une autre évolution sociologique appréciable: La différence du jeu primitif, le combattant alphonsin peut mériter son anoblissement: "Le paysan peut en 6 coups devenir alfferza...".
Ces paysans armés peuvent aussi jouer un rôle de protection rapprochée de certaines figures. C'est "l'alffilada" du fou, par exemple, en triangle: Fe4 - d3 - f3.
La représentation pictographique et numérique
Le manuel d'Alphonse permit de décrire une partie d'échecs, telle que nous en connaissons (roque en moins, puisque ce dernier n'est introduit qu'au XVIe siècle) mais au moyen des seules couleurs et coordonnées numériques. «L'échiquier doit avoir 8 routes (carreras). Et la moitié des cases doit être d'une couleur et l'autre moitié de l'autre couleur. La tour blanche progresse en avant de 1 à 4 en royaume blanc et de 4 à 1 en royaume noir»
Le professeur Scherer s'est amusé à tenir en langue alphonsine une chronique échiquéenne. Voici ce que cela donne: 1.d4 d5 2.c4 e6 3.Cf3 Cf6...
Premier coup:
Le paysan de la dame blanche s'avance sur le quatrième champ et le paysan
noir de la dame sur le quatrième.
Deuxième coup:
Le paysan du sauteur noir de blanc va sur le quatrième
champ et le paysan du roi de noir va sur le troisième.
Troisième coup:
Le sauteur noir de blanc va sur le troisième champ du
sauteur blanc et le sauteur blanc de blanc va sur le troisième champ du sauteur
noir...
J'en reviens au roi pour conclure. Il est, dit le "Libro", le "seigneur de l'armée", sennor de la hueste (hueste = ost en français médiéval, donc l'armée féodale, levée selon le ban); il doit "être dans l'une des deux cases du milieu" et tout l'art de la bataille est de lui "dar xaque e mate... o para ampararle..." Lui donner l'échec, le tuer, s'en emparer.
Alphonse X de Castille n'était pas n'importe qui. Alors pourquoi ce caractère de planqué sur le champ de bataille ? Ici le médiévaliste a son mot à dire: Si au XIIIe siècle, il se trouve encore un individu aussi conséquent que Saint-Louis pour aller risquer la peau de son État en des terres lointaines, les vrais grands rois sont plus réalistes, tels Alphonse, Jacques d'Aragon, l'empereur Frédéric II, Jean sans Terre... L'armée, c'est fait pour de bons généraux, la tête de l'État, pour être à l'abri et légiférer.
Reste la primauté de la Reine "domina-alfferza". Que symbolise-t-elle ? On pense aux régentes (Constante de Sicile, Blanche de Castille) mais il faut surtout imaginer ce que représente chez un souverain éclairé du XIIIe siècle la découverte de la nécessaire pérennité de l'État. Il fallait maîtriser les barons et non faire le pître à leur tête sur le champ de bataille: Jean II le Bon de Poitiers, Charles le Téméraire, en attendant la supplique du nigaud: "Mon royaume pour un cheval" !
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by Bill Wall
The Staunton chessmen is the standard pattern for chess pieces used in all world chess federation and United States Chess Federation events.
On March 1, 1849 the pattern was first registered by Nathaniel Cook. Prior to that, the pieces most commonlly used were called the St. George design, follwed by the Calvert, Edinburgh, Lund and Merrifield designs. Cook registered his wooden chess pattern under the Ornamental Designs Act of 1842.
The design of the knight came from the Greek horse of the Eglin Marbles in the British Museum (brought to the museum in 1806).
In September 1849 the manufacturing rights were bought by John Jacques of London, workers of ivory and fine woods. Jacques was the brother-in-law of Nathaniel Cook. The sets were made in wood and ivory. The unweighted king was 3.5 inches in size. The weighted king was 4.4 inches in size. Jacques removed much of the decorative features that topped earlier chess patterns, and was able to manufacture the new design at less cost. The king was represented by a crown and the queen was represented by a coronet.
On September 8, 1849 the first wooden chess sets from Jacques was available. The first sets actually had a different pattern to the King's Rook and King's Knight that distinguished it from the Queen's Rook and the Queen's Knight.
On the same day that the Jacques chess sets were available, Howard Staunton recommended and endorsed the sets in the Illustrated London News. Nathaniel Cook was Staunton's editor at the Illustrated London News. The ad that appeared in the newspaper called it Mr. STAUNTON's pattern.
Later, Staunton began endorsing the set and had his signature on the box of Staunton chess pieces. One of Staunton's chess books was given free with every box of Staunton chess set.
In 1935 the Jacques company no longer made ivory Staunton sets.
During World War II Jacques was asked by the British government to mass produce chess sets for the troops. The factory was later bombed by the Germans and destroyed.
At the start of the 1978 World Championship match in Baguio, Philippines, there wasn't a Staunton chess set in the city. Someone had to drive to Manila to find a Staunton chess set, which arrived just 15 minutes before the start of the scheduled match.
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par Gustavo Perednik
Gustavo Daniel Perednik is an Israeli writer, distinguished as outstanding lecturer at the Hebrew University's Rothberg School. Four of his six books were awarded literary prizes. The following article is an Internet summary of the original, published many times in Spanish since 1995. Perednik has lectured on this subject to international chessplayers in Israel.
King Solomon may not have played chess against Benayah as the Midrash states, but the Jews have a long, close relationship with the game, excelling as masters, theoreticians and world champions.
Today's Israel is loyal to that tradition, ranking fifth in the world and being second only to tiny Iceland as far as grand masters per capita. One year ago an Academy of Chess was founded in Tel Aviv, not only as the result of chess blooming due to Russian immigration, but also because of a special Jewish inclination. More than one hundred schools and community centers which offer chess courses in the country.
It remains unclear as to when Jews first played chess. Rashi interprets the Gemara as refering to chess when it mentions nardeshir (Ketuvot 61b), but several ninteenth century scholars (Franz Delitzsch, Moritz Stenschneider) refute this. The latter claims that the first Jewish chess player was the son of rabbi Saul from Taberistan, Ali, in the ninth century.
During the twelfth century the Jewish interest in chess was enhanced by explicit references by Maimonides and Judah Halevy; Abraham Ibn Ezra wrote the oldest extant chess rules which he called Haruzim. Sepher Hachasidim recommends it during the thirteenth century, and in 1575 the rabbis of Cremona declared "all games bad... except for chess."
The friendship between Moses Mendelssohn and Gotthold Lessing, which influenced Jewish Emancipation and Enlightment, blossomed over a chess board. In 1837 a French Jew, Aron Alexandre, wrote the first Encyclopedia of Chess, and two years afterwards one of the Haskalah educators, Jacob Einchenbaum, who was also a mathematician, wrote Ha-kerav (the battle) a Hebrew poem on the game almost five hundred lines in length.
Among recent world champions, Fischer, Korchnoi, Spassky and Gasparov mantained a disproportional Jewish presence. Emanuel Lasker is widely considered the most complete chess player of all times. The son of a cantor and grandson of a rabbi, he combined three supposedly scientific careers: Chessmaster, philosopher and mathematician. His first biography was prologued by Albert Einstein.
Jews preponderate in blind chess. Gyula Breyer attained the world record of simultaneous blind games when he played twenty-five during Berlin's Tournament in 1920. Mikhail Najdorf played forty five in 1947 and George Koltanowski superseded all records in 1960 when he played blindly fifty six games, winning fifty of them after almost ten hours of play in a prodigy of human mind.
Najdorf shares with Koltanowski another fate: Both were saved from the Holocaust because they chanced to be in a World Tournament in Buenos Aires when the war broke out (and therefore did not return to Europe).
The two main contemporary schools of chess were conceived of by Jews, the Modern school by Wilhelm Steinitz which advocates the accumulation of small advantages, and the Hypermodern by Richard Reti which avoids releasing tension in the centre of the board. The book Chessology shows four stages of the consolidation of modern chess: The psychological by Lasker, the scientific by Tarrasch, the positional by Casablanca and the energetic by Breyer. Three of the four were Jews. The «Chess Review» of U.S. was founded by Israel Horowitz and the strategy of countergambits by Ernst Falkbeer.
Gerald Abrahams gives four possible explanations for Jewish chessophilia: 1) Jews traditionally strive to produce the pure intellectual, 2) They love study and learning, 3) They are perseverant, 4) They are talented at languages (due to migrations and cosmopolitism) including the language of chess.
Even Judeophobia infected chess. During WWII Alexander Alekhine, world champion for two decades, authored a series of articles parallel to Wagner's infamous essay Jewry in Music (1850). The composer denied the creativity of Jewish artists; the chess master "exposed" how the Jewish chess game is characterized by oportunism and material win at all cost.
His Aryan Chess and Jewish Chess opened with a question: "Can we hope that after Lasker's death -the second and probably the last world champion of Jewish descent- Aryan chess will finally find its path, after having been led astray by the influence of Jewish defensive thinking?" Aryan chess was by nature agressive -defense was valid only after a mistake. In Jewish chess, in contrast, pure defense is a legitimate way of winning. For example Aaron Nimzowitch's theory of "overprotection" (to unburden the centre without advancing the central pawns until positioning the major pieces) was defined by Alekhine as "purely Jewish... it is fear to struggle, doubts about one's own spiritual force, a sad picture of intellectual self-destruction." He describes the first half of the century as a "period of decadence when the Viennese school, founded by the Jew Max Weiss and propagated by the Schlechter-Kaufmann- Fahndrich trio, dominated the world chess scene. Its secret relied not in victory but in not losing."
In the first International Tournament in London in June 1851 the German Adolf Anderssen defeated the Jewish Lionel Kieseritzky, both mathematicians, in a match of insuperable beauty which was named The Immortal. For Alekhine that victory marked the triumph of Aryan over Jewish chess.
Chess has been all but ignored as a subject worthy of philosophical analysis. Yet philosophical thought is applicable to chess as we can see by considering how the works of two Jewish philosophers, Henri Bergson and Salomon Maimon, are relevant to chess.
Kant considered Maimon to be the thinker who best understood his doctrine. The two types of Kantian truths, a-priori and a-posteriori, those which precede or are subsequent to the sensual experience, do not leave space for the truth of chess. This seems to be the a-priori type like maths truths, since we can achieve it through reasoning and without any experience. However, we discover at the same time that the truth of the chess pieces are valid only when the match is known in its totality. It is possible to play chess only with the imagination and without opening your eyes to reach conclusions about its truths. That is why many blind people excell in chess. Yet one cannot discern the nature of this truth during the game, only retrospectively, from the already finished game. Chess truths are valid when they can be identified in the block of data preceding and subsequent to them. Only in that concluded universe may a move be defined as brilliant, mediocre or deficient.
Chess requires a type of thinking similar to that required for Talmud study. Aron Nimzovitch, Samuel Reshevsky and Akiva Rubinstein were great world masters educated in Yeshivas. Talmudic thought is parallel to chess training in seven ways: The indispensability of study, memory, visual comprehension, the centrality and rigidity of law, the importance of debate, the need for bold intelligence, and an antiauthoritarian and original way of raising alternatives. The Talmudic option for the learner is to be either a Sinai (erudite) or an Oker Harim (sharp). Two Jews who personify these chess styles are the dogmatic Siegbert Tarrasch versus the flexible Emanuel Lasker. The former based his game on knowledge, the latter wisdom. Theirs was a powerful battle of ideas, clashing the famous 1908 London game, which was followed with extraordinary interest.
Lasker's victories over the scientific Tarrasch are examples of psychological relativity in chess. Tarrasch had termed the inexplicable blunders of great masters as Amaurosis Schacchistica, "chess dazzle." For Lasker these mistakes were considered a natural and inevitable part of the game. Thus he defined the difference between them: "Doctor Tarrasch is a thinker, a friend of deep and complex theory... he admires a move for its depth, I admire it for its efficacy." For Lasker fidelity to a general law was less important than the search for unique characteristics of each position that exempt it from that general law. That is why his school was called "anarchic."
Both studied weaknesses. But while Tarrasch concentrated on the technical exploitation of the adversary, Lasker was interested in the unforseeable paths available to defend one's self. This requires an open and serene mind, self-control and self-confidence, and ability to accomodate to the constantly changing board. Fred Reinfeld in his Apreciation of Lasker stressed his perception of the similarities between chess and life. As Borges says in his poem Chess: "The player, too, is captive of caprice/...on another ground/crisscrossed with black nights and white days./God moves the player, he, in turn, the piece." Lasker and Tarrasch shared a Jewish destiny. The Nazis burnt their books and deprived them of glory, country and property.
Chess is blooming in Israel as in a natural home. The moment is therefore ripe for deepening, documenting and developing the Jewish chess aspects. A broad curriculum for the Chess Academy for instance, could include together with maths and philosophy, the page of Gemara.
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Je n’avais encore jamais eu l’occasion de connaître personnellement un champion du jeu d’échec, et plus je m’efforçais de me représenter à celui-ci, moins j’y parvenais. Comment se figurer un cerveau exclusivement occupé, sa vie durant, d'une surface composée de soixante-quatre cases noires et blanches ? Assurément je connaissais par expérience le mystérieux attrait de ce "jeu royal", le seul entre tous les jeux qui échappe souverainement à la tyrannie du hasard, le seul où l'on ne doive sa victoire qu'à son intelligence ou plutôt à une certaine forme d'intelligence.
Mais n'est-ce pas déjà le limiter injurieusement de l'appeler un jeu ? N'est-ce pas aussi une science, un art, ou quelque chose qui est suspendu entre l'un et l'autre, comme le cercueil de Mahomet entre ciel et terre ? L'origine du jeu d'échecs se perd dans la nuit des temps, et cependant il est toujours nouveau; sa marche est mécanique, mais elle n'a de résultat que grâce à l'imagination du joueur; il est étroitement limité dans un espace géométrique fixe, et pourtant ses combinaisons sont illimitées. Il poursuit un développement continuel, mais il reste stérile.
C'est une pensée qui ne mène à rien, une mathématique qui n'établit rien, un art qui ne laisse pas d'œuvre, une architecture sans matière; et il a prouvé néanmoins qu'il était plus durable à sa manière que les livres ou que tout autre monument, ce jeu unique qui appartient à tous les peuples et à tous les temps, et dont personne ne sait quel dieu en fit don à la terre pour tuer l'ennui, pour aiguiser l'esprit et stimuler l'âme. Où commence-t-il, où finit-il ? Un enfant peut en apprendre les règles, un ignorant s’y essayer et y acquérir une maîtrise d’un genre unique, s’il a reçu ce don spécial. La patience et la technique s’y joignent à une vue pénétrante des choses, pour faire des trouvailles comme on en fait en mathématiques, en poésie, en musique.
Stefan Zweig, Le Joueur d’échecs, 1943
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by Bill Wall
Most chess masters become masters by learning the game of chess at an early age. Seldom does a player become a master after learning the game later in life. There are a few exceptions. However, most strong masters began at a very early age.
Former world champion Jose Capablanca began to play chess at the age of four. He wrote that he learned chess by watching his father play when he had just passed his fourth birthday. He even beat his father in his first game at age four.
Former world champion Anatoly Karpov was taught the moves of chess when he was four years old. By age 15 he was a master and later won the World Junior Championship. He became the world's youngest grandmaster in 1970 at the age of 19.
Former world champion Boris Spassky learned the game in the Urals at the age of five during World War II. After the war he joined the Pioneer Palace in Leningrad and spent five hours a day every day on chess. In college he took up journalism to give him the most time for chess. By age 18 he had won the World Junior Championship, took 3rd place in the USSR Championship, and qualified as a Candidate for the World championship.
Former world woman champion Nona Gaprindashvili learned at age five after watching her five chess-playing brothers. She won the world's women chess championship when she was 21.
Former world champion Bobby Fischer began playing at the age of six, taught by his older sister and reading the rules that came with the game. He became a master at age 13, US champion at 14, world's youngest candidate for the world championship at 15, and world's youngest grandmaster at 16.
Former world champion Vasily Smyslov learned the game at six by studying chess books in his father's library.
Bent Larsen learned the moves at age six. He gave up his civil engineering studies in school to become a full-time chess professional.
Former world champion Alexander Alekhine learned chess at age seven by his mother, an heiress of an industrial fortune. He became addicted to the game and played the game in his head and by the light of a candle when in bed. By age 18 he was grandmaster strength.
Former world champion Tigran Petrosian learned the moves at age eight. When his parents died when he was 16, he found consolation in chess and soon began to win tournaments. He was playing grandmaster strenght by age 20.
Former world champion Mikhail Tal became interested in chess at age eight after watching the game played by patients in the waiting room of his father, a doctor specializing in internal disorders. At age 10 he joined the Riga Palace of Young Pioneers. He won the Latvian championship at age 17.
Former world champion Max Euwe learned at age nine and was taught by his parents. He remained an amateur chessplayer, with his real profession being a professor of mathematics and mechanics.
Former world champion Emanuel Lasker began to play at the age of 11. His older brother taught him the moves of chess.
Former world champion Mikhail Botvinnik learned the game at age 12.
Former world champion Wilhelm Steinitz learned how to play chess at age 12 from school friends.
Six time U.S. champion Walter Browne learned the game at 13 after joining the Manhattan Chess Club. By age 20, he had the Grandmaster title.
Joseph Blackburne, the leading English player of the late 19th century, didn't learn the chess moves until he was 19. He learned the game from a two-pence chess book. Two years later he was giving blindfold simultaneous exhibitions.
Howard Staunton, the world's leading player in the 1840s, took up chess at age 19 and didn't become a serious player until age 26.
Mir Sultan Khan didn't learn the international game of chess (he knew Indian chess) until age 21. Two years later he was the All-India champion. A year later he won the British championship. He was illiterate, unable to read or write, and never studied any book on the game.
Jordy Mont-Reynaud and Vinay Bhat starting playing chess, joined a chess club (the Palo Alto Chess Club run by Bill Wall), and played in rated tournaments at age 7. By the time they were 10, they both became America's youngest masters. Vinay Bhat became America's youngest master in 1995 at the age of 10 years, 176 days. Jordy was a master in 1994 at the age of 10 years, 209 days.
Other young masters include Stewart Rachels at 11 years, 10 months; Ilya Gurevich at 12 years, 3 months; John Jarecki at 12 years, 6 months; Jon Litvinchuk at 12 years, 7 months.
In 1998 Hikaru Nakamura (born Dec 9, 1987) bacame America's youngest master at 10 years, 79 days. In 2001 he became America's youngest International Master at age 13.
The first list of grandmasters appeared in 1950, published by FIDE. There were 27 chess players nominated as the first grandmasters. The youngest GM on the list was David Bronstein, age 26.
In 1955 Boris Spassky became the youngest GM in the world at age 18. In 1958, Bobby Fischer became the youngest GM in the world at age 15 years, 6 months, 1 day. In 1991, Judit Polgar became a GM at 15 years, 4 months, and 28 days. In 1994, Peter Leko became a GM at the age of 14 years, 4 months, 22 days. In 1997, Etienne Bacrot and Ruslan Ponomariov became GMS at 14. Bacrot was the youngest FIDE master at age 10. Bacrot was 14 years, 2 months when he earned the GM title. Ponomariov was 14 years, 17 days when he earned the GM title. Teimour Radjabov became a GM at 14 years, 14 days. In 1999, Bu Xiangzhi became a GM at 13 years, 10 months and 13 days. In 2002, Sergey Karjakin (born Jan 12, 1990) became a GM at 12 years and 7 months. Also in 2002, Koneru Humpy became a GM at the age of 15 years, 1 month, and 27 days, making her the youngest female ever to become a Grandmaster.
In 1999 David Howell, age 8, defeated Grandmaster John Nunn at the Mind Sports Chess Olympiad in London, becoming the youngest person to beat a Grandmaster at chess.
In 2002 Fabiano Caruana, age 10, defeated GM Wojtkiewicz at the Marshall Chess Club in New York, becoming the youngest player to defeat a GM in the United States.
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par Ron Canter
It would soon be Christmas and we were arranging the annual pub tournament between The Greene Manne in the village of Cholney and The Ruddy Duck in the neighbouring hamlet of Sharpe Ende. Everyone was looking forward to an evening of dominoes, draughts, skittles and chess, but the main attraction was the traditional game of Grimbles, an ancient country pastime peculiar to the region. You will appreciate how old Grimbles is if I tell you that Morris Dancing is descended from it.
The Grimbles teams had to be made up from people born in the area, although each side was allowed one additional person who came from elsewhere, known as the Outsider. As the most recent newcomer I had been given first chance of being the Outsider for The Greene Manne, but a short trial soon showed that I had no aptitude whatsoever for the game, and so the honour passed to my old friend DB who had in fact resided in the locality for several years. His selection was perhaps more appropriate as he always provided several flagons of his rather potent home-brewed beer as his contribution to the festivities. DB's "lubrication", as it was affectionately known, invariably added immensely to the jollity of the occasion.
During the preliminary discussions between the two pubs we learned that The Ruddy Duck was fielding a new player, and when I heard this I had a strange sense of foreboding. We were informed that a visitor was staying in Sharpe Ende, someone who had shown unusual ability at Grimbles, and he was to be the Outsider in their team. "Says he knows you" we were told, "chap called Thompson, plays chess as well apparently." I groaned inwardly when I heard this and judging by the expression on DB's face so did he. We recalled that when Thompson had unexpectedly visited The Greene Manne some months ago we had mentioned the chess activities at The Ruddy Duck. Somehow he must have worked himself in there.
A few days later when the lists of players were exchanged it was no surprise to discover that Thompson was on board one of The Ruddy Duck's chess team as well as representing them at Grimbles. Fortunately the tournament was being held that year at Sharpe Ende as Thompson was permanently banned from The Greene Manne after upsetting the resident barmaid in a big way; he was most definitely persona non grata in Cholney. DB was board one for The Greene Manne but seemed unperturbed at being drawn against Thompson, he said he had something special lined up for him.
And so the week before Christmas came around and the scene was set for a memorable game of Grimbles. The contest was controlled by an arbiter known as the Master who wielded a large heavy staff which he banged on the floor to punctuate his instructions and to give the rhythm for some of the more intricate movements. The Master wore a long frock coat and a top hat while the participants wore traditional country garb, consisting of white or black smocks, thigh-length leather boots, soft hats and long gaily-coloured scarves tied around the neck. The contestants also carried thin sticks of wood known as slatters. Strangely enough the game was played out on an eight by eight grid, and some said that it was related to chess, while others found a resemblance to the martial art of Kendo fencing because of the movements involving the slatters.
It was a typical frosty December night as we made our way to the gaily decorated village hall at Sharpe Ende where the floor had been marked out with the traditional eight by eight Grimbles grid. After the usual cheery welcome from the habitues of the Ruddy Duck and introductory drinks to warm us up, the teams lined up for the start of the Grimbles match. As the rules are so complicated I will not even attempt to describe to you the course of the game, but I will long remember the sight of DB and Thompson solemnly wending their way through the intricate Grimbles manoeuvres as though they were participating in a game of living chess, doffing their hats and courteously striking their slatters together as they passed each other.
As usual the game started in a quiet and genteel manner with many exchanges of pleasantries and compliments between the two sides. Events were punctuated by the Masters instructions and rulings - "No Donald, you cannot scrunge after a blanksome"...... "Will'm, you must dobble in the A corner." Then the first break was called and as the contestants left the grid you could feel the tension which had built up as they cautiously eyed each other from opposite sides of the room. After a few minutes the game resumed and now things were warming up. Cries of instruction and exhortation began to come from the team captains - "Trundle!"....."Double slatters!!" - as the tension increased.
By the time the second break came the players were obviously glad of the rest as they were a little breathless from their exertions. As they intermingled on leaving the grid somebody seemed to catch Thompson's arm and his slatter poked the rather large posterior of a massive bearded player known as Big Reuben. Big Reuben was enraged by this slight to his dignity and turned on Thompson with a growl, throwing his slatter on the floor between them. Ever polite, Thompson bent over and picked it up and handed it back to Reuben, saying "Sorry about that, mate."
"C</