Without saying a word to anybody, I set to writing letters to all the leading Chess Clubs on the Continent and in England, informing them of the bad move Morphy was about to make, and requesting those in the interests of chess to induce him to remain, until at all events he had met Herr Anderssen. Now, the mere fact of Morphy staying, as the simple individual, was nothing; but it was something to make sure beyond all dispute that he was infallibly the best living player; and, in addition, to add many games to the finest pages of chess literature. I am happy to state that the different clubs thought as I did; so the result will prove.
After a week or two, Morphy began receiving letters from Amsterdam, Leipsic, Brussels, Berlin, Breslau, etc.; from the London and St. George's Chess Clubs; requisitions signed by the amateurs of the Café and Cercle de la Régence, expressing the earnest wish of all that he would remain throughout the winter. Herr Anderssen wrote him a lengthy epistle, in which he assured him he did not think it possible he could leave Europe without playing him, and adding his voice to the general cry.
Morphy thought he must go. Then the society in which our hero was so frequent a visitor began to declare that he really must remain, and it is hard work for any man to refuse when a request is backed by such sweet glances as make requests almost commands.
Our hero was now wavering, and the game was in my hands, he not at all sorry if I could win it. I had one final resource: a pretty little check-mate with a medical man and a certificate. The doctor, calling on our patient one day, learned from him that he was about returning home, whereupon he informed him that in the then state of his health a winter voyage across the Atlantic was not precisely beneficial, and wrote his opinion accordingly. This I took, and inclosed with other matter to his friends in New Orleans, and Morphy seeing no way out of the difficulty, ultimately surrendered, and I had the satisfaction of hearing him declare that he should pass the winter in Paris. There was only one person dissatisfied with this. Meeting Harrwitz shortly after, I informed him with a benignant smile, "You will be happy to hear that Morphy has decided to pass a few months longer here." Harrwitz replied, with a smile that was not benignant, "Then Mr. Morphy is not a man of his word."
CHAPTER XV.
MORPHY AND ANDERSSEN.
The first week in December, Monsieur de Rivière received a communication from Herr Anderssen, announcing his approaching arrival in Paris. A week prior to this Morphy had been laid up in bed with a severe illness. The rigors of a first winter in northern climates had told upon him, and I feared much for the result. He was leeched, and lost a great quantity of blood—I told him three or four pints; to which he replied, "Then there's only a quart left." He was kept very low during a fortnight, and having to lift him out of bed only four days before the match with the great Prussian master, I found him too weak to stand upon his legs, although in bed he did not feel so helpless. For two months he had had an antipathy to chess, and I had experienced the greatest difficulty in inducing him to go to the Régence at all. When I would ask him at breakfast what he was going to do with himself during the day, his immediate reply would be, "I am not going to the Régence," and he declined invitations if he thought he should be obliged to play chess.
When I brought him the news that Anderssen had left Breslau, Herr Mayet having written me to that effect, Morphy said to me, "I have a positive chess fever coming over me. Give me the board and pieces, and I'll show you some of Anderssen's games." And with his astounding memory, he gave me battle after battle with different adversaries, variations and all. How he dilated on a certain game between him and Dufresne, in which, though under the mate, he first of all sacrifices his Queen, and after seven or eight moves forces his opponent to resign. "There," said Morphy, "that shows the master."
What wonderment he has caused with his omnipotent memory! I have seen him sit for hours at the Divan and the Régence, playing over, not merely his own battles, but the contests of others, till the spectators could scarcely believe their senses. It will be remembered by many of my readers, that when Mr. Staunton published the eight blindfold games played at Birmingham, he omitted some twenty or thirty of the concluding moves in the game with the Rev. Mr. Salmon. When we had been two months in Paris, Herr Löwenthal wrote me to request that I would forward him the remaining moves, as there was a desire to have the partie complete. It was nearly midnight, and Morphy had gone into his bedroom after dictating me some games played during the day, and, mindful of Herr L.'s request, I called to him, asking whether he was coming back, when he replied that he was already in bed. I said I should be obliged if he would let me bring him a board and light, in order that he might dictate me the required moves, when he answered "There's no necessity for that: read me over what Staunton published, and I'll give you the remainder." He called over the omitted moves as fast as I could write them down.