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.