The Lewis Chessmen

A couple of days ago (here) I was talking about lookalikes in art - where people spot their doubles in classical paintings and sculptures they find in galleries. I also mentioned that I have a facsimile copy of one of the King pieces from the Lewis chess set that was bought for me years ago by a friend because it (so he said) looked like me. 

Ok, so he may have had a point.

And then yesterday's blogpost about Mayan clay figures (here) made me think that it might be good to talk about the Lewis Chess Set because it is an amazing piece of folk art.

The Lewis chessmen (Fir-Tàilisg) are a group of distinctive 12th-century chess pieces, along with other game pieces, most of which are carved from walrus ivory (a few are whale tooth). Discovered in 1831 on Lewis in the Outer Hebrides of Scotland, the chess set is one of the few surviving from the mediaeval period. Some of the chess pieces could also have been used to play the game of hnefatafl. Hnefatafl needs Kings and Pawns: a King, surrounded by his guards, has to reach a corner square before being captured by the opponent.

When found, the hoard contained eight Kings, eight Queens, 16 Bishops, 15 Knights, 13 Rooks/Warders and 19 Pawns, along with a belt buckle and a few other trinkets. Some show evidence of red staining so the original set may have had red and white sides. 

Today, 82 pieces are owned and exhibited by the British Museum in London, and 11 are at the National Museum of Scotland in Edinburgh. Additionally, a newly identified piece, a Warder, was found in 2018 and was sold for £735,000 in July 2019 to an undisclosed buyer. The pieces are exquisite front and back.

The chessmen were discovered in early 1831 in a sand bank at the head of Camas Uig on the west coast of the Isle of Lewis. Malcolm 'Sprot' MacLeod from the nearby town of Pennydonald discovered the trove in a sand dune, exhibited them briefly and sold them on to Captain Roderick Ryrie. One reported detail, that a cow actually unearthed the stash, is generally discounted as fabrication. After the Isle of Lewis was purchased by Sir James Matheson in 1844, Malcolm Macleod and his family were evicted during the Highland Clearances which transformed the area into sheep farms. 

The chessmen were soon split up, with 10 being purchased by Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe and the others (67 chessmen and 14 tablemen) purchased on behalf of the British Museum in London. The remainer were sold to Albert Denison, 1st Baron Londesborough. In 1888, they were again sold, but this time the purchaser was the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland, who donated the pieces to the Royal Scottish Museum in Edinburgh. The style of carving, particularly that on the thrones of the seated figures, suggests they are Scandinavian in origin, most likely from Trondheim, the mediaeval capital of Norway until 1217. The fact that some of the 'warder' or rook pieces are clearly Beserkers, biting their shields in the frenzy of battle, also points to characters from Norse sagas. Christian and pagan influences are both present in the designs.Even the pawns are beautifully decorated.

We don't know who buried the pieces or why. At the time, the Outer Hebrides belonged to the kingdom of Norway and the culture was a mix of Gaelic and Scandinavian. Even after the Isles were ceded to Scotland in 1266, ties to Norway remained close – the bishops remained part of the bishopric of Trondheim. Other medieval chess pieces have also been found in the Western Isles, for instance, a walrus ivory knight from Skye. 

They may have been the property of a merchant, sailing from Scandinavia to Scotland, Ireland, or the Isle of Man to sell these highly-prized playing sets. But given that Lewis was home to powerful people with close ties to Norway at this time, the playing pieces may instead have been the treasured possession of a local leader, a prince or bishop perhaps. 

The chess pieces are so bound up with the identity of the islands that they even have a large wooden copy of one at Stornoway Airport where I once had the strangest of experiences.

I was one of six people who had flown to Lewis from Glasgow and, after getting off the plane, we waited patiently by the tiny carousel for our luggage. And we waited. And waited. Eventually, I asked one of very few members of staff what the delay was. 'It's Sunday', she explained. What I hadn't realised is that the staunchly Presbyterian ministry of the islands  takes Sunday very seriously. The ministers are not averse to banging on your doors and telling you off for gardening or hanging the washing out. They were certainly opposed to Sunday flights and the week before my visit a bunch of them had linked hands across the runway to prevent a plane landing. Many of the locals also view Sunday as sacrosanct and will not work so the airport had only a skeleton staff that day. And the person bringing our luggage from the plane turned out to be an asthmatic older lady who was, understandably, taking her time. But she needn't have rushed - I then had to wait over an hour for a taxi as the only driver who would work on a Sunday was having his dinner. 'He's English' was the only other explanation I got.

Still, it was a great visit and I've been back since. 

And the chess pieces are truly wonderful. One day I might just invest in a full facsimile set. 

Mind you, I'd then have to learn to play chess.