MORPHY IN ENGLAND.
It is easy to understand that when a man, and especially a young man, feels his strength in any department of thought or action, he will be desirous of putting his abilities to the severest test, so as to take that rank to which he is entitled. Paul Morphy perceiving that it was a hopeless task endeavoring to induce the chess magnates of the Old World to visit America, resolved to cross the Atlantic himself, and it would be difficult to imagine a more chivalric act in one so young than thus embarking on a voyage of many thousand miles, for the sake of finding new antagonists. The journeyings of Il Puttino from Italy into Spain to battle with Ruy Lopez—the travels of the admirable Crichton through different countries of Europe, are mediocre in comparison with this.
But an obstacle stood in the way of the proposed voyage. Paul Morphy was not yet of age, and it would be necessary to first obtain the consent of his family. This was difficult, for, in addition to other reasons, objections were made to our hero's entering on so public a career, interfering, too, as it would for a time, with his legal pursuits. A committee was appointed by the Chess Club to wait upon Mr. Morphy's family to request their consent to the much-desired voyage, and this was ultimately granted. Strong hopes were entertained in England that the American champion would assist at the meeting of the British Chess Association in Birmingham, and, for that purpose, the committee had offered to place at his disposal a certain sum to cover his expenses. This was not accepted, Mr. Morphy little wishing to travel as a professional chess-player. At the commencement of the month of June, the following announcement appeared in the Illustrated London News:
ANNUAL MEETING OF THE CHESS ASSOCIATION.
It was noticed in our columns last week that this event, the Chess-players' Derby day, was fixed to commence on the 22d of June. The arrangements of the local committee are, of course, not yet complete, but it is whispered that they have succeeded in insuring the presence of the American chess phenomenon, Paul Morphy, an attraction, of itself, sufficient to secure the largest attendance which has been known for years.
The date for the assembling of the Association was ultimately postponed until the latter part of August, it being feared, with reason, that the sitting of Parliament would interfere with the attendance of many who would otherwise be present. The committee wrote to inform Mr. Morphy of this postponement, and again urging him to visit Europe, but he was already en route before the latter reached New Orleans.
I was both surprised and gratified when I read the announcement of Paul Morphy's arrival in the Illustrated London News. Now, thought I, these men who do not believe in an American chess-master, will be convinced. We'll see if Morphy's games are merely "pretty," and "will not bear the test of analysis;" and whether "he'll find plenty of matches." I wended my way to the St. George's, feeling confident that I should find Morphy there, and, after waiting a short time, I had the pleasure of welcoming him to England. But, having arisen up from a sick bed to travel, joined to the fatigues of a first voyage across the Atlantic, he did not appear in as good fighting trim as when I had last seen him in New York.
On Mr. Staunton's arrival, Paul Morphy asked him if he had any objection to play an off-hand game. Now it is Morphy's almost invariable custom to wait to be asked; the solitary exceptions to this rule (to my knowledge) being in the cases of Messrs. Staunton and Harrwitz. Mr. Staunton declined the offer on the ground of an engagement preventing, and, notwithstanding that they met frequently at the St. George's, he would never consent to a contest of the most friendly description. Doubtless he was desirous of first observing Morphy's capabilities against other players. The well-known amateur, "Alter," whose games frequently grace the columns of Mr. Staunton's paper, offered himself as a sacrifice. "Alter," however, was not the first to measure skill with the young American, the Secretary of the St. George's, Mr. Hampton, having already played two games with him, on a previous occasion.
Morphy and "Alter" ultimately effected a score of "Alter" 1, and Morphy 4. His next antagonist was Mr. Barnes, and the result of their play was, at first, most surprising. During several successive days they scored alternate games, and the London chess world consequently measured Morphy's powers by this antagonist. Ultimately the former recovered from the effects of his voyage, and the proportion was established of 19 to 7, the last ten or twelve games being scored by Morphy almost without a break.
The first challenge which the young American received in London was from Herr Löwenthal. Morphy says that no one can mention this gentleman's name, without announcing the fact that he was one of the celebrated triumvirate in the match between Pesth and Paris. Herr Löwenthal and the 19th century came arm and arm into the world together, so that he has been contemporary with many who have gone to another sphere. He was led into chess from sheer jealousy, not of woman, but of a man. At a café in Pesth, much frequented by amateurs of the game,—in fact the Magyar Café de la Régence,—he noticed that a crowd invariably surrounded a certain table after 4 o'clock in the afternoon; and, on further inquiry, he learned that the best chess-player in Hungary took upon himself daily to astonish the natives there. That player was Zsen. Zsen was a clerk in the office of Archives at Pesth, and, when the business of the day was over, he repaired to the above-mentioned spot to play chess for a nominal stake, which never exceeded a zwanziger (sevenpence English). Another peculiarity of his was, that, no matter what the strength of his opponent might be—queen, rook, knight, or pawn player—he never would give any odds. His game was dull, analytical, and sound to a tiresome extent, his only object being to get through the opening and middle, and then winning became a certainty; for all his strength came out in the endings, and a very good place, too, for it to appear in. Zsen went to Paris in 1831, and played some games with Labourdonnais at the odds of Pawn and Move, winning the majority. He then told the great Frenchman that he did not like playing for stakes as a general thing, but that he would propose to him a match of twenty-one even games for 200 francs; but Labourdonnais declined. And who will say he was wrong? for what pleasure could there be in sitting down day after day before the dullest player in Christendom, for the eventuality of 200 francs? Zsen was so frightfully slow, even in ordinary games, that he would have worn out 200 francs' worth of his opponent's pantaloons before the match was half through. He was an exceedingly nervous man, and this quality particularly evinced itself during the Tournament of '51, to the eminent delight of his London friends. But he was a good-hearted, amiable man, never losing his temper, and ever ready to declare that he hadn't won the game, but his opponent had lost it.
We left Zsen over a move at the Pesth café. Herr Löwenthal observing what interest seemed to be taken in chess, thought he should like to try his hand at it, and forthwith pored over such works on the game as he was informed would initiate him into its mysteries. Obtaining a little knowledge, he soon after began playing daily with Zsen, receiving no odds, because, as before stated, Zsen would not give any, upon principle. During eighteen months, Löwenthal never scored one game. But whilst Zsen was away on his travels at Paris and elsewhere, he made rapid progress, particularly in the openings; and on his antagonist's return, he induced him to give the advantage of Pawn and Move, and Zsen lost every game. Returning to even play, the latter won the large majority; but with constant practice, Löwenthal decreased the distance between them, although he never turned the tables upon his adversary. Herr L. considers that, in their best play, Grimm would win three games to Zsen's seven, and four to his six. Most chess-players finished Grimm some years back, but he still flourishes "down East." After the Hungarian agitation of 1848, he fled into Turkey, and is now settled in Aleppo, where, as he turned Mussulman, he no doubt revels.
Grimm was a music publisher in Pesth, and, according to Herr Löwenthal, a man of high intelligence, being a celebrated pianist and a thorough proficient in the German, French, Italian, and Latin languages. He was also renowned as a whist-player, and his equal at the billiard-table was not to be found throughout the entire Austrian Empire. His chess was the antithesis of Zsen's, being "brilliant, but not over sound," qualities which find favor with "the gallery," but are dangerous to one's backers in a match. This interesting triumvirate—Zsen, Grimm, Löwenthal—had it all their own way, in Pesth, until July, 1842, when Alexandre came there, and then they had him too. Alexandre brought his Encyclopædia, or the Encyclopædia brought him, and both of them got sold in the Hungarian capital. He thought the idea of anybody there beating him, simply preposterous; but was irresistibly convinced to the contrary when Grimm & Co. did it with so much charming facility, that he told them they were a match for the Paris Cercle des Echecs, and advised them to send a challenge forthwith. The triumvirate were shy at first, then did as they were told, and, to their surprise, the Paris Club accepted their défi by return of post, enclosing the first move. The match consisted of two games, and 1,250 francs a side; the reader can learn, on inquiry at Café de la Régence in Paris, who didn't win it.
Herr Löwenthal's business led him twice a year to Vienna, and on those occasions he improved his play with the amateurs of the Cercle des Echecs of that capital. In 1846, he won a match of Hampe, beating him nearly 2 to 1. About the same period he visited Breslau, and won a majority of games (off-hand) from Anderssen. He then steered for Berlin, "the city of the seven stars"—Heyderbrandt, Bledow, Bilguer, Hanstein, Mayet, Hörwitz and Mendheim. The first of these paladins was absent from the capital, but Herr L. met him subsequently at Vienna, and Heyderbrandt won a majority of two games. With Hanstein, Löwenthal effected an even result, but got the better of Mayet. In Von der Lasa's absence, Bledow was incontestably the strongest player of the club; but Bledow was jealous of his reputation, and declined opposing the Hungarian, until strongly urged by the members. Herr Löwenthal states that Bledow evinced the greatest generosity. Having a certainly-won game, but not wishing to damp a young reputation by defeat, he said, "Oh, I suppose it can only be a drawn game," and forthwith made a move which allowed his antagonist to escape and draw the contest. Not many Bledows in this world!
In 1849, Herr Löwenthal visited the United States, during the contest between Messrs. Stanley and Turner. With the latter gentleman he played two matches, winning both, and subsequently accompanied him into Kentucky, where he commenced another with Colonel Dudley, being again successful. Thence he strayed to Cincinnati, where he met his fellow-countryman, Colonel Pragay, and travelled with him to New Orleans, carrying a letter of introduction to Mr. Eugene Rousseau. Immediately on arriving he was taken ill with fever; but on recovery, he called upon that gentleman and heard, for the first time, of Paul Morphy. Our hero, then but twelve years of age, won two games, drew one, and lost none; and although Herr Löwenthal did not imagine that he thus made the acquaintance of a master whom he would eventually rank as the superior of every chess-player that ever lived—Labourdonnais not excepted—yet he felt satisfied that his youthful opponent would rise to equality with the strongest living amateurs. As proof of this, I will give a paragraph from The Era of October 5th, 1856, twelve months before Paul Morphy was known outside of Louisiana. Herr Löwenthal writes as follows:
"Chess in America.—The progress Chess has made in America is almost, if not quite, equal to that which it has achieved in England. This is more than might have been expected; for in a comparatively new country men may be supposed to be busier and more restless than in an old one, and it seems to be rather against probabilities that a game, requiring quiet thought and study, should have been developed to the same extent as more bustling amusements in America. Yet that it is so is proved by the fact that in almost every large town there is a Chess Club, and many of these clubs are in communication, and play games by correspondence. Another proof is also to be found in the number of papers regularly devoting a part of their space to chess, and giving, as the English chess papers do, well-contested games, with notes, problems, and chess intelligence. Among the first in rank of these is the Albion, the chess column of which is, we believe, edited by Mr. Stanley, and among the latest of the accessions to the chess ranks we observe Frank Leslie's Illustrated Paper. In the first rank of the players in New York (between which and Philadelphia a correspondence match is now going on) we may mention Messrs. Stanley, Sullivan, Thompson, and Perrin. We must pay some attention to chess in America if we mean to keep our laurels green. The men of the New World are not apt to lag behind when they throw themselves into any pursuit, and if we do not take care, we may have the next chess champion from the far west."
Herr Löwenthal, on quitting the Crescent City, returned to Cincinnati, where he was induced to settle. He opened a smoking and chess divan, and was on the high road to fortune, when he received a letter from Mr. Charles H. Stanley, in New York, enclosing one from Mr. Staunton. This communication invited Herr Löwenthal to attend the International Tournament at London, in 1851, and ambition prevailed over cupidity. He, however, got ousted in the first round of the tournay, his antagonist being Mr. Williams, but he turned the tables upon that gentleman soon afterwards, by beating him in a set match.
When the St. George's Chess Club removed to St. James's street, Herr Löwenthal was elected secretary out of one hundred and forty candidates, and officiated in that capacity during four years. "The Era" newspaper commenced a chess column in February, 1854, and he was selected by the proprietor to conduct it—our readers know with what success. A few months ago, the Illustrated News of the World announced its intention of devoting a column weekly to the game, under the direction of Herr Löwenthal, and he also edits an elementary chess article in the Family Herald. A fair amount of weekly work for one man; especially when his book labors and frequent play at the London, St. George's, and St. James's are taken into consideration. The last-named club is his own child, and promises to become one of the most flourishing in the metropolis.
Herr Löwenthal did not regard his play with Morphy at New Orleans as any test of their respective strength, but it was not at all agreeable to his feelings to have it recorded against him that he was beaten by a boy of twelve. So, on Paul Morphy's arrival in England, he hastened to challenge him, and of course a match was immediately agreed upon. It was at first arranged that the match should be for £50 a side, and the victor he who first scored seven games, but the challenger possessed so many warm friends, all of whom wished to have a share in the stakes, that it was proposed to Morphy to double the amount and increase the number of games to nine. It is lucky that Morphy was not born a woman, for he never says "no" to any proposition, and he did not to this. Half of Herr Löwenthal's stakes were found by the London, and the remainder by members of the St. George's; and it was stipulated that the games should be played alternately at the rooms of those two clubs.
My readers know the result. According to the opinion, or rather the statements, of numerous London players, Herr Löwenthal played much below his usual strength—one gentleman stating that his combinations were unworthy of a rook-player even. I was used to this, and liked it. The New Yorkers had uttered similar stuff, saying that Morphy only beat them because he knew the openings better, and I can state on authority that all the players in Europe came to a mutual understanding not to play their game when Morphy was their antagonist. But there was also another reason for the latter's success. He frightened his adversaries, not by his strength, but by his personal appearance. This boy of twenty-one, five feet four inches in height, of slim figure, and face like a young girl in her teens, positively appalled the chess warriors of the old world—Narcissus defying the Titans. Herr Löwenthal was the first to give Morphy his due; before the final game in the match was played, he said to me: "I felt chagrined at the result of the first one or two games, because I thought that I ought to have won them; but now I feel no longer dissatisfied, for I am convinced that I am vanquished by superior strength." And he has since told me—"After the first game I went home saying to myself, 'Well, Morphy is not so terrible after all!' The second partie failed to change my opinion; but, in the third, I saw all my combinations twisted and turned against me, and I felt myself in a grasp against which it was almost vain to struggle." Chess-players will shortly see this noble-minded gentleman's opinion of Morphy fully expressed, in a collection of the latter's games which he has lately been engaged in editing.
The following extract from The Era newspaper thus announces the result of the match to its readers:
FINISH OF THE GREAT CHESS MATCH.
The match between Mr. Paul Morphy and Herr Löwenthal came to an end on Saturday the 22d, the American carrying the victory. Although it was universally remarked that Herr Löwenthal's play was far below his usual strength, it must at the same time be admitted that the play of Mr. Morphy marks that gentleman out as one of the finest players in the world. We shall be glad to see him engage with other great European players, in order that it may be proved which is the stronger in the game, the Old World or the New. We believe Mr. Morphy is ready to challenge all comers. There is something exceedingly romantic and chivalrous about this young man's coming over to Europe and throwing down the gauntlet to all our veterans. He is certainly a very admirable Crichton of Chess, and, like the accomplished Scot, he is as courteous and generous as he is brave and skilful.
The Era, August 29th, 1858.
When the above match was only about half through, another was arranged between our hero and "Alter," the former giving the odds of Pawn and Move. In conversation one day with some gentlemen at the St. George's, Paul Morphy had expressed himself dissatisfied with "Alter's" having won a game from him, stating that he could give him the odds of Pawn and Move. This coming to "Alter's" ears, he stated to Mr. Hampton, the secretary of the Club, that he felt confident Mr. Morphy could do no such thing, and that he would very willingly play a match with him, in a friendly spirit, to convince him to the contrary. Whereupon Mr. Hampton brought the cartel to Morphy, who gladly accepted it, and, the two principals being put face to face, it was agreed that a set of ivory club-size Staunton chessmen should become the property of the winner of the first five games. Now "Alter" had been playing for months past at those odds (P. & M.) with Mr. Staunton, holding his own against that gentleman, and he considered that if he (Mr. S.) could not beat him, certainly Morphy could not. So confident was he of the result, that he told the young American: "Were it not for my position (meaning as a clergyman), I would willingly play you for a thousand pounds." As far as he was concerned, Morphy, too, was confident. Before the contest commenced, he said to me: "'Alter' may win two games, but he will not win more;" and I would here notice his (M.'s) power of estimating an opponent's strength. When the preliminaries were settled with Herr Löwenthal, he stated to me: "If I cared about betting, I would bet that Löwenthal does not win five games. Of course there will be plenty of draws, but he will not get more than four." On our way to Paris, he said: "Well, now I am going to play Harrwitz, and I would bet the same as I did about Löwenthal;" and when he was preparing to meet Anderssen, he awarded four games to the Prussian champion. In every instance he overrated his opponents, or, perhaps I should rather say, underrated himself.
The preliminaries were soon settled, all ceremony, seconds, &c., being dispensed with; the only condition, that I can recollect, was in regard to smoking. "Alter" observed that gentlemen could use the weed in the room where the match was played, but it must be in moderation, so as not to render the atmosphere insupportable. "Alter" gave a capital example on the first game: he sat down in front of Morphy with an ordinary cigar in his mouth; when that was nearly finished, he ordered the waiter to bring him a full-sized regalia; cutty-pipe and "birdseye" followed the regalia; and then he left the room to fetch an immense meerschaum, from which he blew clouds worthy of Peter Stuyvesant and the Knickerbockers.
"Alter" was thoroughly acquainted with the peculiar nature of the "pawn and move" game; Morphy, on the contrary, was less accustomed to those odds than to any other. In New Orleans, he did not engage even players, or any, in fact, but such as he gave the knight, and much more frequently, the rook. In New York he played a short match at pawn and move with Mr. Stanley, and that may be considered his introduction to such odds; I was therefore as much astonished as any one when I saw him make such short work of "Alter," who never won a single game, and only succeeded in drawing two. I am afraid that this result seriously interfered with Mr. Staunton's fixing a day for the commencement of the match between himself and Morphy.
It must not be supposed that our hero was devoting all his time to chess, or that the game was always uppermost in his thoughts. A foreigner, and especially an American, feels bound to visit all "the lions" of the English metropolis, and Morphy was no exception to the rule. I was almost constantly with him, and certainly no subject was less frequently referred to than chess. I have been amused with the conduct of gentlemen on similar occasions, who seemed to think that no other subject than that could interest him, and after pertinaciously confining the conversation to the game, took upon themselves to declare that it was the single thought of his life. So that, in England, he is looked upon as a chess automaton. In France they give him the very opposite character, complaining of his aversion for the game.
Precisely the same thing was observable in their references to the peculiar style of his play. In England, they considered him the very beau-ideal of brilliancy, comparing him to McDonnel, and to "Cochrane, without his faults." In Paris, however, they characterized his game as "solide, close, and analytical, not possessing brilliance like Labourdonnais;" although these Frenchmen, one and all, with the exception of De Rivière, forced their close openings upon him.
Since Mr. Staunton's voluntary relinquishment of what he terms "actual play," confining himself to consultation games and "odds," Mr. Boden is admitted to be the best English player. The B's certainly form a strong phalanx amongst London amateurs, numbering such names as Buckle, Boden, Barnes, Brien, Bird; but the first-named gentleman has long since quitted the lists. Mr. Boden was no exception to the rule of English players in their opinion of Morphy, on the latter's arriving in Europe; but he was one of the first to be convinced of the American's superiority, and, with John Bull honesty, immediately avowed it. The admirably-conducted chess column in The Field, is under his supervision; and his remarks therein on Morphy's tactics are too well known to require any comment from me. I have heard him state his conviction that no one could possibly be better adapted for the game, whether physically or mentally; and he, too, like Herr Löwenthal, ranks Morphy above all known players. In the month of January last, he drew my attention to one game in particular, between our hero and Anderssen, stating that he was satisfied "Labourdonnais would have lost it ten times over." Now it requires great courage on the part of any man to place a player beside Labourdonnais, much more above him. Herr Löwenthal says that he does not wonder that the chess world is so backward in giving Morphy the rank to which he is entitled; "but few players are capable of appreciating his games, and it was only after careful analysis that he could form a proper opinion of them." He assured me that he has frequently been confounded at the depth of Morphy's combinations whilst engaged in their work, expressing his firm conviction that when a collection of his games shall be placed before the public, the chess world will rank Morphy above all players, living or dead.
The proportion in which Morphy had beaten Mr. Boden was so great, namely, five to one, that a prominent member of the St. George's remarked on hearing it, "Well, I did not think any player living could win in such proportion." I remember a similar occurrence in reference to Mr. Perrin, the late secretary of the New York Chess Club, some weeks before the appearance of Paul Morphy in that city. In answer to a friend, this gentleman replied, "That is the same as saying that a player could give any of us a piece," (meaning the principal members of his club, who were considered about on a par with each other.) "Now, I don't think that Labourdonnais, even, could give me the knight." Morphy, nevertheless, after beating him at even, at pawn and move, and pawn and two, offered him the knight, which was accepted "for trial's sake;" and out of five games there was a difference of the odd victory, but my memory fails me as to whether it was won by Morphy or not. Mr. Perrin will not feel displeased at my mentioning this fact, because it is pretty well conceded now, that where any other player can give pawn and two moves, Morphy can very easily give the knight. European celebrities, in making comparison of the strength of different amateurs, leave Morphy out of the question; and when they compare him at all, it is only with Labourdonnais. And very few of them, too, would scruple at taking odds from him. On the publication of his challenge to Mr. Harrwitz to play a match at pawn and move for 500 francs, Mr. Boden stated in The Field, "There is more than one English player who will be glad to meet Mr. Morphy on these terms."
The majority of his games in London, Morphy played at the Divan. It was a general subject of regret, after he had vanquished the different amateurs in the capital, that Mr. Bird was absent in the North, and that the American might leave before that gentleman could visit London. Mr. Bird is a terrible fellow for attacking right and left; his game was described as the counterpart of Morphy's, it being added that he was just the antagonist our hero required. At last, Mr. Bird arrived, and the result between the two was more startling than ever, Morphy winning ten to one. It is but just to state that Mr. Bird was somewhat out of play, as he himself observed; adding, however, that he never was a match for his antagonist. It gives me much pleasure to relate such instances as these, because, as a general rule, there are no more self-confident mortals than prominent chess-players.
It would be difficult to remember all the men with whom Morphy played at the Divan; or, rather, with whom he did not play. But I must not forget that merry individual, Mr. Lowe. It was in the Divan that Mr. Staunton played Mr. Lowe that celebrated match at pawn and move, the play in which on both sides, as Mr. S. observed, "was unworthy of second-rate players in a third-rate coffee-room," because Mr. Staunton was beaten. Since that occasion, Mr. Staunton has slighted the Divan, but Mr. Lowe still flourishes there, ever ready to meet all comers, and if not nightly playing somebody, at all events nightly making everybody laugh. Mr. Lowe made trial of Morphy privately, immediately on the latter's arrival, and forthwith ran to the Divan to tell everybody, much to everybody's disgust, that not one of them would have any chance against the American. They all laughed at him, the only reply being, "Oh, Lowe, you're a funny fellow!"
Before the Birmingham meeting, Morphy had met all the leading Metropolitan players, with, of course, the exception of Mr. Staunton. And yet perhaps I should not except that gentleman, for our hero had played in two consultation games with him, Mr. S.'s ally being "Alter," and Morphy's, Mr. Barnes. Messrs. Barnes and "Alter" are well matched. Both of these consultation games were won by Messrs. Barnes and Morphy.
As the latter part of the month of August approached, considerable curiosity was evinced in various quarters as to whether Paul Morphy would then be a contestant in the tournament. Although not a Yankee, he nevertheless displayed as much "cuteness" under oft-repeated interrogatories as the downiest "down Easter;" feeling what an important bearing his determination would have upon the expected match with Mr. Staunton. In a subsequent chapter will be found his reasons for not entering the lists on that occasion. He was well aware that his decision must necessarily produce considerable disappointment, but he was conscious that a tournament triumph is by no means an accurate test of strength. If chess can ever become a game of chance, it is under such circumstances; and the only sure criterion of the respective strengths of two opponents is by actual hand-to-hand encounter.
But Morphy did not intend disappointing the Birmingham gentry altogether, and felt convinced that if he played six or eight games blindfold before the association, they would pardon his absence at the opening of the meeting. After the tournament had got into the second section, he left London and arrived at Birmingham before the day's proceedings had fully commenced. I had the pleasure of accompanying him, and on our arrival at the College in which the meeting of the British Chess Association was held, we found quite a crowd in the commodious rooms provided by the Committee of Management. The President of the Birmingham Club, Mr. Avery, introduced the young American to the members of the association, and the cheers with which he was received were such as seldom come from others than Englishmen. Morphy advanced up the room without the slightest embarrassment, although his reception was as unlooked-for as it was flattering. Saint Amant, who was present, wrote a brilliant account of the meeting to the Paris journal Le Sport, and I am only sorry that I have not the article in question by me at the present moment. The style of the article, however, is indelibly fixed in my memory, reminding one of the Lays of the old Troubadours. Saint Amant writes prose in poetry, and he has made of Morphy an epic hero. He tells the Parisians that the young American is no mere pale-faced boy, visiting foreign lands to increase his powers; but "a citizen of the United States, who comes to claim a sceptre in Europe." Then again, "his walk is that of a king, and he advances through the crowd of strangers like a monarch receiving homage from his court." But he does not forget to state that Morphy is innately modest, and that all this admiration has no bad effect upon him; for such has been the theme of every one who has been brought in contact with him.
Most of the principal players in England were assembled at Birmingham, in August, 1858. Amongst them, Staunton, Löwenthal, Boden, Bird, Kipping, Owen, Salmon, Avery, Hampton, the President of the Association, Lord Lyttelton, Falkbeer, Brien, etc. The prominent feature of the meeting was of course the tournament prizes of sixty and twenty guineas, for which Messrs. Staunton, Löwenthal, St. Amant, Falkbeer, Kipping, Owen, Hughes, Brien, Smith, Ingleby, Bird, Zsabo, Hampton, Brettlestone, and Salmon contended. The sixteenth player was intended to be Morphy, but not appearing in time, he was ruled to have lost all further share in the contest. It was matter for much disappointment that Mr. Boden did not enter the lists, especially after the gallant fight he had made at the previous meeting of the association in Manchester. The final result was that Herr Löwenthal carried off the first prize, and Herr Falkbeer the second; and, so far as the former gentleman was concerned, almost every player was both astonished and gratified at the dénouement. It was only during the week preceding the Birmingham Festival, that the Hungarian had succumbed to his youthful antagonist, and he had consequently entered on a fresh contest with all the disheartening recollections of defeat; a defeat, too, which he expressed his belief had seriously damaged his chess reputation. Prominent London players had criticized his games with Morphy in an inconsiderate spirit, the almost universal statement being that he had not played up to any thing like his usual strength. The criticisms on his moves in the widely circulated columns of the Illustrated London News were cruel to a degree; slighting allusions being made to his "bookish theoric," etc. Yet this old veteran goes down to the field of battle with unshaken courage, wins two games, one after the other, from Mr. Staunton in the second section of the tournay, and carries off the first prize in the teeth of fourteen able competitors. This result proved one thing beyond a doubt, namely, that Morphy's late triumph was the consequence of his superior strength, and not from mere want of practice and skill on the part of Herr Löwenthal. And it also verified the observation of Mr. George Walker, in Bell's Life, that "Mr. Morphy beat Mr. Löwenthal because Mr. Morphy was stronger than Mr. Löwenthal." Oh, Mr. Walker! Mr. Walker! what a rude way you have of putting naked truths before the public!
Of course Morphy was not allowed to twirl his thumbs in idleness, especially with so energetic a master of the ceremonies as Mr. Avery. This gentleman soon arranged a contest between our hero and Mr. Kipping, the leading Manchester player, and exponent of the Evans' Gambit. Mr. K. had the move, and played the opening he has so much at heart; Morphy accepted, under the impression that he, too, knew something about the Evans'. First game scored by the American, the Manchester amateur thirsting for revenge. Morphy, in his turn, plays the Evans', and Mr. Kipping cries "enough." No other single games were played by Morphy during the meeting, the leading celebrities present being engaged in the tournament, but our hero made up the difference by astonishing the natives with a display of his blindfold powers.
When Morphy declared his intention, in London, to play eight games without sight of the board, there were very few who believed the thing possible. They knew that Labourdonnais and Philidor had played two or three games simultaneously, and that Kieseritzky and Harrwitz had repeated the performance in later times, but there was a wide leap from three to eight antagonists. Harrwitz had earned a great reputation in Europe by his blindfold prowess, and was regarded without a rival, although many other players, such as Anderssen, De Rivière, etc., had occasionally met two or three antagonists at a time. Here was "a coil;" this young champion of the West, not satisfied with vanquishing all the chess veterans of England over the board, prepares to cast for ever into the shade the most astonishing performances of this and past ages. Well might Saint Amant declare that it was enough to make the bones of Philidor and Labourdonnais rattle in their graves!
I well remember Paul Morphy's first blindfold contest in New York. It was on the occasion of Paulsen's playing against four antagonists without sight of the board. Morphy offered to be one of his adversaries, and to meet him on the same conditions; and somewhere about the twentieth move he announced mate in five, much to Paulsen's astonishment, who did not think the crash was so near, although well aware he was "going to the bad." Mr. Paulsen got such an insight into Morphy's blindfold capabilities, that he subsequently observed to me, "Mr. Morphy can play as many games, without seeing the board, as I can, only he is so unwilling to lose a game."
It will here be well to mark the difference between the blindfold performances of these two gentlemen. Both of them see the boards in the mind's eye equally well, but there the resemblance stops. Paulsen's contests average fifty moves, whereas Morphy's seldom extend beyond thirty. The former is a balista, the latter, a rifle bullet. What each is over the board, he is with his back turned to it, and there are many even in Europe who maintain that Morphy's blindfold feats are more brilliant than his usual mode of play. Paul Morphy, however, attaches very little importance to these displays, calling them mere tours de force, notwithstanding that they appear so wonderful to the multitude. To quote a favorite expression of his, one frequently used by him in speaking on the subject—"It proves nothing."
A young gentleman has lately appeared somewhere in Germany, who, we are informed, has reproduced Morphy's performances at Birmingham and Paris. In fact he is represented to have precisely re-enacted the American's victory in the French capital, playing against eight strong antagonists, winning from six and drawing from two. There seems some "method" in this; at least I for one cannot help feeling suspicious, especially as the news is heralded to the world in connection with Morphy's name. I have seen one of the games played on the occasion, in which this young gentleman announces mate in ten or twelve moves—an astonishing announcement, indeed, under the circumstances. The whole affair is beautifully managed throughout, and, whether played blindfolded or over the board, marks the player as an amateur of the very highest order. Was the transaction bona fide? Now I do not wish to depreciate any man for the sake of benefiting another. Palmam qui meruit, ferat. We know that Morphy has played against eight antagonists on two separate and most public occasions, and that the most eminent players in England and France were witnesses of his performance. If Germany does possess a second Morphy, let him step forward and prove his identity, and I, for one, will do him reverence. Cannot that responsible body, the Berlin Chess Club, tell us something tangible about him, and why it is that we never heard any thing about him till now? Perhaps he is a new Deschappelles, and has acquired chess in forty-eight hours, on hearing of Morphy's feats. The Berlin Schackzeitung can surely investigate this affair, and enlighten us on what seems very much like a ruse de guerre—an invention of the enemy.
But let us return to Birmingham. Mr. Avery asked the young American what eight antagonists he would select; when the latter replied that it was immaterial to him, but that he should prefer all strong players. There were then in the room Messrs. Staunton, Saint Amant, Löwenthal, Boden, Falkbeer, Brien, and others of not much inferior strength, and Morphy was in hopes that many, if not all, of these gentlemen would offer themselves as opponents. But he was mistaken, and great difficulty was experienced by the Committee of Management in making up the required eight, who were, finally, as follows: Lord Lyttelton, President of the British Chess Association, Rev. Mr. Salmon, the strongest Irish player, Messrs. Kipping, Avery, Wills, Rhodes, Carr, and Dr. Freeman. Paul Morphy was put up in a corner at the end of the room, and, every thing being prepared for action, he threw open his portholes and gave the signal, "Pawn to King's Fourth on all the boards."
Of course I am not going to mystify the general reader with the scientific details of the contest. I know that Lord Lyttelton had the first board, and received the deference due to his exalted rank, by being the first put hors du combat, and I remarked, too, that after his lordship had decided on his various moves, he would get up from his seat, walk towards the end of the room, and contemplate Morphy, as though desirous of seeing how he did it. And I know, too, that St. Amant was running from table to table, giving advice to one and the other with his continual "Il va croquer ça," as an intimation that one or the other must look out for a pawn or piece in danger. And then, too, Morphy kept on checking Mr. Avery's king by moving his rook from the seventh square to the eighth, backwards and forwards, until that estimable gentleman declared it was a drawn game, when a bystander horrified him with the information—"That is only after fifty moves; Morphy will keep you there until he has kiboshed the others, and then he will honor you with his sole attention." But the game was finally declared drawn.
And, at the finish, how everybody applauded when Morphy arose, the vanquisher of six, having only lost the game with Mr. Kipping—through an oversight at the beginning. And how everybody was astonished when he stepped from his seat as fresh as a newly plucked daisy, and Mr. Staunton examined him closely to find traces of fatigue. Then indeed his not playing in the tournament was forgiven and forgotten.
Then there was the soirée, and the capital matter-of-fact address of Lord Lyttelton. His lordship lauded Morphy to the skies, both for his blindfold and other play, and referred to the match with Mr. Staunton, trusting that Morphy would beat every other antagonist but that gentleman. Nothing more now remained to be done in England for some months to come; and Morphy returned to London, to prepare for his campaigns on the Continent.