MORPHY IN SOCIETY.
All the Paris newspapers soon took to writing about our hero, from the Moniteur to the Charivari. The latter, the oldest and most famous of all comic papers, gave cut after cut and article after article upon him; in fact, Morphy was its standing joke for a long period. One day there was a picture representing "Britannia, astonished at the checks she was receiving in India, requesting the young American to get her out of the difficulty." Another represented an individual who declined entering the Café de la Régence in company with his wife, "because there was inside a certain Mr. Morphy who would capture his queen from him." After the blindfold exhibition, the famous Taxile Delord wrote as follows:
"Well, let us have a game of chess. Shall I give you the rook? Sit down here, and I will place myself in this arm-chair."
"Oh, no! Now-a-days, no man who respects himself, thinks of playing with the board in front of him."
Upon this imaginary conversation, Delord lets loose a volley of fun, ending in this manner:
"I can understand Ecarté, I can appreciate Picquet, I can even rise to the grandeur of Tric Trac, but don't talk to me of Chess. That game will bring us back to tragedy."
What with the illustrated papers giving Morphy's portraits, no two of which were ever alike, and the innumerable articles in the "dailies," he began to be notorious. Saint Amant wrote that he supplied a want which Paris had felt for a long time—the want of a hero. Monsieur Lequesne requested him to sit for his bust, and threw so much labor of love into the work, that he produced a chef d'œuvre which all Paris went to criticize and to praise. All these various occurrences could not but cause excitement in the salons, and invitations began to pour in from the Faubourgs St. Honoré and St. Germain. The first came from the Duchess de T——. My readers must forgive me for not mentioning names where a lady is concerned. The Duchess stated that she had played at chess since a child, and that she was desirous of becoming acquainted with a gentleman whom fame heralded as so superior to all amateurs; but that she had no hope of proving an antagonist worthy of him. Well, Morphy waited on his fair challenger, and out of five games each won two, and one was drawn! Then the Princess M—— expressed a desire to play our hero, and other great dames followed; and knowing, as I do, the result, I solemnly declare that, in spite of my confidence in Morphy's powers of combination, I never would bet a cent upon him when his opponent is a lady.
I am not bound to silence when gentlemen are concerned, and I am glad to mention amongst chess amateurs, such names as the Duke of Brunswick and Counts Casabianca, Isouard, and Bastorot. These gentlemen are thorough veterans in the noble game, and chess works and periodicals are no strangers to their contests. Count Casabianca was "at home" every Friday night, and, whilst some of the company were at whist, ecarté, or other games de la société, he would always be in a corner with the Duke of Brunswick, Count Isouard, Signor Préti, and other chess amateurs. Morphy played against the Duke and the Counts in consultation, and, although he almost invariably won, it was no easy matter.
H. R. H. the Duke of Brunswick is a thorough devotee to Caïssa; we never saw him but he was playing chess with some one or other. We were frequent visitors to his box at the Italian Opera; he had got a chess-board even there, and played throughout the performance. On our first visit "Norma" was performed. The Duke's box is right on the stage; so close, indeed, that you might kiss the prima donna without any trouble. Morphy sat with his back to the stage, and the Duke and Count Isouard facing him. Now it must not be supposed that he was comfortable. Decidedly otherwise; for I have already stated that he is passionately fond of music, and, under the circumstances, wished chess at Pluto. The game began and went on: his antagonists had heard Norma so often that they could, probably, sing it through without prompting; they did not even listen to most of it, but went on disputing with each other as to their next move. Then Madame Penco, who represented the Druidical priestess, kept looking towards the box, wondering what was the cause of the excitement inside; little dreaming that Caïssa was the only Casta Diva the inmates cared about. And those tremendous fellows, the "supes," who "did" the Druids, how they marched down the stage, chaunting fire and bloodshed against the Roman host, who, they appeared to think, were inside the Duke's box.
Some of the pleasantest hours passed by Paul Morphy in the French capital were spent at the Baronne de L.'s. This lady, who has long ranked as one of the great beauties of Parisian society, is renowned as a patroness of the arts. Her friendship for the lamented Pradier has passed into history, and her salons are the weekly resort of the most celebrated sculptors, painters, and authors of France. And no wonder, for the Baronne is gloriously merry and witty, a true child of the sunny South. A Creole, from the French West Indies, she immediately took a liking to Morphy, "Because," said she, "he is another lazy Creole like myself;" and she invited all her acquaintances to come and see him. She would get Morphy opposite her, and St. Amant or Lequesne by her side to stop her when she was about making too serious a mistake, and would play game after game, making us all laugh the whole time with her charming anecdotes and jeux d'esprit. How she would amuse us when she declared that parties and late hours were killing her, and that they did kill her last season, and yet she was always as fresh as a newly plucked rose. When she found how fond Morphy was of music, the principal singers from the opera would be present. I remember one night she asked that finest of living baritones, "the honey-voiced" Graziani, to play our hero at the odds of the Queen. Signor Graziani had caught the general enthusiasm, and was applying his leisure moments to chess with the energy of a Standigl, and had lately been taking lessons from Préti. He at first objected to play, from modesty, but the Baronne had determined he should, and she told him that, if he would play a game, Morphy would sing a duo with him afterwards. This was a sparkle of her fun, of course; but Graziani played, not one, but three games, and he then said: "If anybody asks me if I understand chess, I shall say, 'Oh, yes; I play sometimes with Mr. Morphy.'"