MORPHY AND THE FRENCH AMATEURS.
Morphy's arrival in Paris, and his doings at the Café de la Régence, soon began to make him much sought after. The way in which some folks get lionized in the French capital is remarkable, and Morphy had to submit to it, not merely at the café, but even in his hotel. We soon found that continued residence at the Hotel Meurice would be inconvenient, for many reasons; and within a day or two of our arrival, had located ourselves in the Hotel Breteuil, at the corner of the Rues de Rivoli and du Dauphine, where we had a magnificent view of the palace and gardens of the Tuileries, and were within a stone's throw of the best quarters of Paris and the Régence. What was our surprise to learn, subsequently, that Harrwitz was residing next door to us; and that Saint Amant had, formerly, occupied the very apartments in which we had installed ourselves. We had not been long in our new abode before Morphy received a visit from the grandson of Philidor. They had a lengthy colloquy together, and of course Morphy asked his visitor if he played at chess. He replied, that he once gave some attention to the game, but found that he possessed little aptitude for it, and therefore relinquished all further study; not thinking it right that any one bearing the name of Philidor should be looked upon as a mazette.
Our hero's installation at the Café de la Régence waked up all the slumbering embers of French chess, and men who had not been seen for years past came back to their early love. The well-known Polish amateur, Budzinsky, was amongst these, and Laroche, contemporary of Labourdonnais and Deschappelles. Then we found there such players as Mr. Eugene Rousseau, of New Orleans, on a visit to his family in Paris, and who had been so much "at home" in the café in other years. How proud he was of the fame and feats of his young fellow-townsman amidst the Gallic paladins! and how desirous he was that Morphy should encounter Monsieur Laroche, whose game he characterized as sound to a terrible extent, characterizing that gentleman as "un rude gaillard." It was only after Mr. Rousseau's departure that Laroche and Morphy met, when we found that the former was "sound," but the latter "sounder." Mr. L. had not been seen at the Régence for a long period; some told us that he was settled in Bayonne, others that he had given up chess altogether: but the appearance in the chess heavens of this Star of the West, brought him back to the old battle-field, and no one could make even games with him but De Rivière and Harrwitz, the Prussian amateur merely winning a small majority.
Monsieur Journoud, one of the best known and strongest of French players, and a member of the Paris Committee of Co-operation on the International Tournament of 1851, played upwards of a dozen games at different times with Morphy; but though he came very near winning on one or two occasions, our hero always wriggled out at last at the right end of the horn. Journoud once described his opponent's game as "disgustingly correct;" Boden speaks of Morphy's "diabolical steadiness," which means pretty near the same thing.
De Rivière certainly made the best show against Morphy of all the players in Paris, having scored one game in good style, and having lost at least one which he ought to have gained. He had got his opponent into a position which might be termed "putting it to him," and Morphy, like the wolf, was—
"Dying in silence, biting hard,"
when he made a move "to please the gallery." Now Morphy never allows liberties to be taken with so serious a matter as check mate; he goes straight to the finish himself without fuss or nonsense, and expects others to do the same; he, therefore, worked clear out of his difficulties and forced his opponent ultimately to resign. De Rivière was mortified at the result, and states that he went home very angry with himself in consequence.
This gentleman is incontestably the most rising of the French players, and will make some amateurs tremble for their chess reputation ere long. In 1851, he did not know a move in the game, so that his progress has been rapid; and as he has not yet reached his thirtieth year, it is only probable that he will become much stronger; that is, if he will keep up his practice, which is not certain, inasmuch as he has lately become "mated" in a manner most agreeable to his feelings, and we have heard of ladies who object to their lords and masters making love to other nymphs—even though that nymph be Caïssa. Let us hope that, in this instance, pater familias, whose "intentions are strictly honorable," may be allowed an occasional respite from the cradle and perambulator, and that "curtain lectures" will not deter him from hot pursuit after other men's queens.
It was soon found useless for any one to play Morphy even, as he scored almost every game. Meeting Monsieur Laroche at the café one morning, that gentleman asked me why our hero did not offer odds to everybody. I replied that no doubt many gentlemen would feel hurt at such a proposition being made to them, and I asked him—"Would you play Morphy at pawn and move?" to which he unhesitatingly replied "Yes." M. Journoud was sitting beside him, and he expressed himself in like manner. On informing Paul Morphy of this conversation, he requested me to inform the proprietor of the café that, in future, he should play no one without giving odds; excepting, however, Herr Harrwitz. He was most desirous of again meeting the Prussian amateur, the latter having made some rather peculiar observations with regard to their match; as, for instance, that he had not lost the affair, Morphy having consented to annul it: that he was not a match player, and played much stronger off-hand: that Morphy did not beat him by combination, but by sitting him out, and so forth. But Harrwitz always took care to keep out of harm's way, and although Morphy came day after day to the café, with the avowed intention of meeting him, Herr H. had always got one or the other reason for not playing.
Laroche, Budzinsky, Devinck, and other leading amateurs tried their luck at pawn and move, with no better result than contending even. Others tried at pawn and two, as, for instance, Lequesne, Guibert, Lecrivain, and Delaunay. Who of my chess readers does not know this brilliant writer in the Palamède, who has kept everybody on the broad grin throughout his numerous articles? He is always full of fun and sparkling wit, and merrily did he display it with Morphy. The first time they played, Delaunay sacrificed piece after piece, in a way to terrify anybody but his young antagonist, and certainly seemed to occupy a position dangerous to Morphy's peace of mind. The latter made one of his peculiar moves, when Delaunay observed, eyeing the board with one eye, and the spectators with the other—"Voila un coup du bon Dieu," and then making his reply, which set our hero reflecting, he added—"Et, en voila un du diable." But it was all of no use, and Morphy soon turned the tables upon him. M. Delaunay styles himself "un casse échiquier," for he plays as though driving spike nails. At the London Divan some months since he astonished the spectators by breaking one of the pawns, when he immediately cried out—"Oh, that's nothing; I break the rooks in Paris."
Morphy was easily approached by anybody, no matter what their strength, and I doubt much whether there is any frequenter of the Régence who did not play one or more games with him. As he invariably refused to play for any stake, this pleased them the more, and set them making comparisons between him and certain others, not at all complimentary to the latter. But what pleased them most of all was the quiet unobtrusiveness of his behavior, and the courtesy with which he treated everybody. Where his skill gained one admirer, his manner made ten warm friends.
Some of my readers may complain that I am "laying it on rather thick," and ask "Why shouldn't he be quiet and unobtrusive?" I reply that I am not to be deterred from writing what I know to be the fact (having been a witness thereof for several months) by any accusation of toadyism. I write what George Walker, Saint Amant, Löwenthal, and all the chess editors Morphy has met, have written before me; and they wrote as I now write, because the circumstance is rather extraordinary. Chess players, generally, are a class vain and imperious; and young players, like the young of all classes, are apt to be carried away by success. How few eminent amateurs are there who do not give themselves certain airs when winning—aye, and losing too—lolling back in their seats, sticking their thumbs in their arm-holes, and regarding the spectators with a self-satisfied air, as much as to say—"There, my boys, what d'ye think of that?" One gentleman at the Régence had long bullied the gallery and his antagonists in this manner; no wonder, therefore, that Morphy made warm friends of those who were that man's enemies.