It's Only a Pawn

White pawns from the Charlemagne chess set, ca. 1050

I’ve decided to write a history of chess pieces, one piece at a time. I’m hardly the first person to do so, but I thought it would be fun. All the pieces were either made by me or are in my collection.

It might seem appropriate to start with the king, the focus of the entire game. Trapping the king is the central goal of chess. But, I’m not going to do that. Instead, I’m going to start at the bottom, the lowly pawn.

Pawns have gotten a bad rap over the years. A commonly used phrase, often by talking heads on History Channel documentaries, is that people of lesser standing were moved around by kings and the nobility “like pawns on a chessboard.” What they fail to understand, of course, is that ALL the pieces on a chessboard are moved around by the player. Duh. I guess they'd be easy to checkmate! Part of what is behind that sort of phrase is the idea that pawns were worthless, disposable, just cannon fodder to protect the king and his court. Actually, that is not true.

This was even more untrue during the Middle Ages. When chess came to Europe around the 8th century it was a very different game. The queen was not a queen, but a vizier or general (and the weakest piece on the board), the rook was a chariot, the bishop was an elephant with limited moves, and the other pieces were the same as today. In such a game, with only the rook having unlimited movement in one direction, action in the game was more localized. Hence, the pawns were very important strategically. They were used to form a barrier against the forward movement of the other side.

Even in modern chess pawns can be very powerful. You can checkmate with a few pawns with cover. Really.

This did not make them less valuable, cannon fodder (although there weren’t cannons in Europe at the time), disposable pieces of lesser value. They had a great deal of value. They were often used in a way that they were captured, given that there were eight of them. That didn’t make them less valuable. They were used strategically.

Having said that, the uniformity of pawns in medieval chess might give the impression they were less valuable. They represented foot soldiers, of which there were more than there were of other components of the army.

As chess evolved in India the pieces represented the four parts of an army. The rook was the chariot, capable of high speed movement straight ahead. The knight, which along with the rook has retained its original movement since the beginning, was more nimble and could turn off if necessary. The bishop (at the time an elephant) was limited in movement, but if it were in the right place it could be devastating. Finally, the pawn represented the infantry--soldiers on foot, not in a chariot, riding a horse or elephant, and carrying a shield and spear. All parts of the army were important, and each had its own function.

l to r: Persian/early European pawn, ca. 1000;  Lewis Chessmen, ca. 1100; Spanish, ca. 1250, Scandinavia, ca. 1300 Russia, ca. 1350; England, ca. 1480; Italy, ca. 1490; Germany, ca. 1500

The development of the chess pawn is an interesting one. The pawn as it came out of Persia in the 7th century was small, with some decoration. Most pieces from this period resemble that form. The pawns in the Lewis Chessmen are similar, with two designs, perhaps reflecting two different sides. The rest of the pieces are figural, and I’ll get to them another time.

l to r: England, ca. 1560; Italy, ca. 1600; England, ca. 1700; Portugal (made in India) ca. 1650; France, ca. 1750; England, ca. 1750, England, ca. 1830

Regional variations on the pawn cropped up in various parts of Europe. In places the pawn became somewhat bottle shaped, with a small neck that was easy to pick up. In many parts of Europe, the pawn remained a the simplest piece, taking the shape of a barrel or cylinder with minimal decoration. Some examples are illustrated here. One notable exception is the pawn in the so-called Charlemagne chess set now in Paris, made in Sicily during the eleventh century. Here the pawn is a foot soldier.

As time went on pawns were still uniform in shape but took on many different designs. In places they retained that bottle-shaped form, while disks and other additions mad them more elaborate. In some designs the pawn became a miniature of the bishop and/or queen, such as in the Regence style. In the case of the ubiquitous Staunton design, introduced in England in 1849, the pawn had its own design not based on another piece.

l to ro: English, bone, ca. 1860-1900; German, wood, ca. 1840-80; French, Staunton design, wood,  ca. 1920; German, wood, ca. 1860-80; French, Regence design, wood, ca. 1880; Irish, Killarney, wood, ca. 1880; Russian, wood, ca. 1950. The only piece I made here is the Killarney piece.

Pawns are almost always the shortest pieces on the board. That has remained consistent. That does not make them of less value or insignificant, however. In modern chess the pawn can be promoted to any piece the player desires once it has made it to the other side. It often takes most of the game to get a pawn to the last rank on the other side. It is very rare for a player to get more than one pawn to the other side. Generally players will promote their pawn to a queen, since it is the most powerful piece on the board. New chess sets today quite often will have an extra queen for each side. That was not true when I was learning how to pay as a kid. Back then, you took a rook and turned it upside down to make a second queen. That’s why rooks in old sets will often have damage to the top.

Enjoy the photos of pawns through the ages!

In The Bleak Midwinter

“In the Bleak Midwinter” is one of my favorite Christmas hymns. It is based on a poem by Christina Rossetti, published in 1870. The hymn first appeared set to music in a 1906 hymnal.

The first verse sets the mood:

In the bleak mid-winter
Frosty wind made moan;
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak mid-winter
Long ago.

Rossetti wrote out of her own experience if winters in England. Anyone who grew up in a northern climate can relate to the image of cold winds blowing and the ground hard as iron, water as hard as stone. I can remember winters like that in northern New England. With climate change we’re not seeing those typical conditions as much, especially in balmy Connecticut. However, the image persists.

The best way to see how this tag team of Christmas and winter functions is to see what Christmas is like outside of New England. We take for granted the Currier and Ives images of riding a sleigh carrying the Christmas tree home where pumpkin pie and a roast await, with the fireplace burning brightly. My first glimmer of this was in Arizona a number of years ago. Anita and I were there on our honeymoon, and we went to a Lowe’s to see what they had for desert plants which we can’t get here. I have the two cacti that we bought in my office at the church for the winter. It was mid-October, and just like anywhere else the Christmas decorations were up. Bear in mind that this was Phoenix, Arizona, hardly a winter climate. They had artificial Christmas trees for sale. It looked incredibly out of place, in the same league as the bright green lawn we saw in front of a Phoenix mansion, sprinklers running at full tilt.

It occurred to me that many people living in the area were transplants from somewhere else, people from colder regions where a live spruce or fir tree was not exotic, and this appealed to nostalgia for home.

I was in the Holy Land six and a half years ago in March, and it was cold some of the time, but not winter as we experience it. Jesus wasn’t born in December anyway. The leaders of the early Church put his birthday there to counteract the Roman celebration of the Saturnalia, a bawdy, raucous holiday that they didn’t want their people celebrating.  Better to be celebrating Christ’s birth than getting blind drunk, although that hasn’t stopped anyone lately. For some, Christmas is the Saturnalia.

For many, winter is difficult. Those who grew up in northern climates often eat more, exercise less, drink more, and wrestle with depression. It’s no wonder that Russia has one of the highest rates of alcoholism in the world.

So, even if Jesus wasn’t born during the winter, the image of Christ coming to us in our winter is still an apt one. Jesus comes to us not when we are feeling good about everything, but when we struggle with all that bedevils us. That’s the meaning of the Incarnation. 

The King and Queen are Tipsy: How Chess Pieces Age

Lardy Staunton queen, France, ca. 1920

Regence style king, France, ca. 1880

Chess pieces are an art form. I've discovered that in my ongoing obsession with turning chess sets. I've bought a few antique sets here and there, and enjoy playing a game with a set that is over a century old. One of the peculiar things that happens to some sets is the king and/or queen get tipsy. Literally. Case in point is these two pieces, both a century or more in age. You'll notice that the warping has occurred at the thinnest point of the piece. The kings and queens are more susceptible than the other pieces to this kind of warping because they are the tallest pieces in each set. In the case of the Staunton queen, to the left, there is only one narrow junction. In the Regence king, to the right, there are three, making for three narrow places where warping can occur. Instead of this being a problem that diminishes value, it actually establishes their age as a century or more, since this type of warping generally doesn't happen with new pieces.

Old chess sets will often be very dirty, and I always give them a good cleaning with Murphy's Oil Soap to restore the surface. I sometimes will make repairs, and a few times I've had to reproduce a missing pawn or two.

Regence knight, ca. 1880

Other chess pieces age gracefully to one degree or another. This Regence knight, from the same set as the king above, has a crack (called a "check" in woodworking lingo) on the ball below the horse's head  from the wood drying out. Some people might try to glue and clamp this, or fill the crack with some sort of filler, but that wouldn't be a good idea. This crack will probably close up somewhat when it gets warmer and more humid.

South German king, pawn, and queen, ca. 1870-90.

Wear is another way in which pieces age. If they are used a lot, the finish on chess pieces will wear off on the highest points of the turned piece, as you can see in these three pieces from the black side of a ca. 1870-90 German set (king, pawn, queen, left to right). There is wear on the top of each pieces. Sometimes wear like this can be unsightly, and many times, as with this set, it testifies to its age and use. It's part of the patina.

Rooks also suffer damage from use. Rooks are particularly susceptible to breakage because until recently there was only one queen on each side in a chess set. Generally, new chess sets today include a second queen, only to be used if a pawn is promoted. If a player got a second queen by promoting a pawn, if the player did not simply regain his or her queen from capture they traditionally would use a captured rook turned upside down as a second queen. Eventually this can lead to the crenelations on the top of the rook to break off, as has happened to the rook on the right from a St. George style set, ca. 1880-1900. An intact rook is to the left.

In Japanese nomenclature the term wabi-sabi has become popular in the West. It simply means the characteristics that give an object an patina, a sense of having been used or worn. I think this is the appeal of sets that show their age--you know that a century or more ago someone was enjoying a game of chess with a friend.

Rounded Out With a Sleep

It probably won’t surprise anyone that I have a number of collections that reflect my interest in a wide variety of subjects. One collection that I don’t talk about that much is related to death. I know that that’s an uncomfortable subject for many. I always have my ears attune to how people talk about death. I have noticed in the last few years that the euphemism “passed away” has been reduced to “passed.” I assume this refers to the transition from life to what lies after life in the undiscovered country, but to my mind it clouds the reality of death. I do not use euphemisms in reference to death. As a pastor, I deal with death much more than many do. I do not feel it helps anyone to diminish the impact or reality of death. To shield someone from the reality that their loved one has died does them a disservice. We don’t know what the next world is like, and we can’t know, and it is perfectly fine to think of someone as having gone into another phase of life.

Having said that, it is important to acknowledge the reality of death. Even if our spirits live on in a way that we can’t understand, our physical bodies die. Everyone dies. I will die some day. I wish that an exception could be made in my case, but I don’t see that as forthcoming. Having a small collection of items related to death helps me think about it. It’s something I need to do, to reflect on death, since part of my role is to help others work through their grief and deal with death.

One thing I watch for in antique shops are memorial cards. These black cards were popular from around 1880-1900. I have a number of them, including one for my great great grandmother who died around the turn of the century. These cards were usually printed on black cardboard with gold or silver ink, and included the name and dates of the deceased. They also have imagery related to death.

A more unusual item in my death collection is a name plate for a casket. These often turn up in estates. EBay usually has a selection of them. These plates were intended for the casket of the deceased. When I first bought it I had the odd feeling that it had surfaced (literally) when the occupant’s grave was opened. I took comfort in learning that in the second half of the nineteenth century these plates were often on display during calling hours, and very often the family kept them rather than actually affixing them to the casket. Whew. I wasn’t holding an item that was a by-product of grave robbing.

Naturally, I wanted to know more about the man whose casket plate I have. This is what I’ve learned. First, I need to say that this name plate is not for sale, and at this point I don't plan to give it to his descendants, if he has any. I have no interest in getting in the middle of family disputes and rivalries, and by giving or selling it to one family member I am excluding other family members. I have no idea how this name plate came into the possession of the antiques dealer I bought it from, but it is safe to say that it probably was in an estate sale of some sort. I acquired it legitimately.

The casket name plate is for Nahum Russell, who died on July 17, 1854 at the age of 63 years and 5 months. The dimensions of the plate are 4 3/8 x 3 3/8 inches and is made of silver plated pewter. The inscription reads:

Nahum Russell
Died July 17th 1854
Aged 63 Yrs. 5 Mos.

Online research turns up that he was born in Arlington, Massachusetts on February 16, 1791, and died in Greenfield, New Hampshire, where he is buried in the Greenvale Cemetery. He married Lucretia Johnson of Francestown, New Hampshire on January 28, 1817 in Arlington, Massachusetts. There is a Nahum Russell living in Brighton, Massachusetts in 1816, his name being on the voter list, who could possibly be our person.

In 1820 he appears as the head of a household in Francestown, New Hampshire with two sons under the age of ten. It appears that he and Lucretia had a total of four children, three sons and a daughter. One son died as a teenager. Another son moved to California.

Lucretia, born in 1790, died in Bennington, New Hampshire on October 11, 1875, so she outlived her husband by over twenty years.

The Genealogical and Family History of New Hampshire says about Nahum that he “was one of the early settlers in the town of Greenfield, New Hampshire, where he came in 1823. He owned a tract of two hundred acres on land on what is now known as Boylston street, and was a farmer and extensive cattle raiser.” (p. 730)

So, there it is. A person’s life summed up in a few paragraphs, with one object that is directly connected to him. These few facts, though, only give us the barest details about his life and who he was. From these details we know nothing about what sort of person he was, if he was a good parent, an active member of his community, and so on.



The name plate for his casket tells us one thing. He was mourned. It never made it on to his casket. It was saved after his funeral as a reminder. One little detail is poignant--the upper left corner of the plate has its plating worn off while the rest of the silver plating is more or less intact. Could it be that Lucretia held this plate many times and passed her fingertips over his first name, where the plating is worn off? It's quite likely. I know that some would see that as overly romantic, and perhaps it is, but it wouldn't be surprising. We all mourn someone, and hopefully some day someone will mourn each of us. That's part of what it is to be human.

And like the baseless fabric of this vision,

The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,

The solemn temples, the great globe itself—

Yea, all which it inherit—shall dissolve,

And like this insubstantial pageant faded,

Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff

As dreams are made on, and our little life

Is rounded with a sleep. (William Shakespeare, The Tempest, Act 4, Scene 1)