Peter Pratt of Lincoln's Inn, author of the "Theory of Chess," (1799) a work referred to by Professor Allen, the biographer of Philidor as "the most divertingly absurd of all chess books." Some idea of the plan and style of the work may be obtained from the following extract from the author's preface: "The game of chess, though generally considered as an emblem of war (the blood stained specie of it) seemed to him (the author) more to resemble those less ensanguined political hostilities which take place between great men in free countries, an idea which was at once suggested and confirmed by observing that when one combatant is said to have conquered another, instead of doing anything like killing or wounding him, he only casts him from his place and gets into it himself." Fortified in this conceit the ingenious author converts the Pawns into Members of the House of Commons, the Rooks into Peers, while the Queen is transformed into a Minister, and the whole effect of this curious nomenclature upon the notation of the games is ludicrous in the extreme.
An American view was presented in the following words, it would probably have also have disturbed the equanimity of Forbes like that of Pope's did (page 20).
The date to which I have referred the origin of chess will probably astonish those persons who have only regarded it as the amusement of idle hours, and have never troubled themselves to peruse those able essays in which the best of antiquaries and investigators have dissipated the cloudy obscurity which once enshrouded this subject. Those who do not know the inherent life which it possesses will wonder at its long and enduring career. They will be startled to learn that chess was played before Columbus discovered America, before Charlemagne revived the Western Empire, before Romulus founded Rome, before Achilles went up to the Siege of Troy, and that it is still played as widely and as zealously as ever now that those events have been for ages a part of history. It will be difficult for them to comprehend how, amid the wreck of nations, the destruction of races, the revolutions of time, and the lapse of centuries, this mere game has survived, when so many things of far greater importance have either passed away from the memories of men, or still exist only in the dusty pages of the chroniclers. It owes, of course, much of its tenacity of existence to the amazing inexhaustibility of its nature. Some chess writers have loved to dwell upon the unending fertility of its powers of combinations. They have calculated by arithmetical rules the myriads of positions of which the pieces and pawns are susceptible. They have told us that a life time of many ages would hardly suffice even to count them. We know, too, that while the composers of the orient and the occident have displayed during long centuries an admirable subtility and ingenuity in the fabrications of problems, yet the chess stratagems of the last quarter of a century have never been excelled in intricacy and beauty. We have witnessed, in our day contests brilliant with skilful maneuvers unknown to the sagacious and dexterous chess artists of the Eighteenth century.
Within the last thirty years we have seen the invention of an opening as correct in theory, and as elegant in practice as any upon the board, and of which our fathers were utterly ignorant. The world is not likely to tire of an amusement which never repeats itself, of a game which presents today, features as novel, and charms as fresh as those with which it delighted, in the morning of history, the dwellers on the banks of the Ganges and Indus.
An Indian philosopher thus described it:
It is a representative contest, a bloodless combat, an image, not only of actual military operations, but of that greater warfare which every son of the earth, from the cradle to the grave, is continually waging, the battle of life. Its virtues are as innumerable as the sands of African Sahara. It heals the mind in sickness, and exercises it in health. It is rest to the overworked intellect, and relaxation to the fatigued body. It lessens the grief of the mourner, and heightens the enjoyment of the happy. It teaches the angry man to restrain his passions, the light-minded to become grave, the cautious to be bold, and the venturesome to be prudent. It affords a keen delight to youth, a sober pleasure to manhood, and a perpetual solace to old age. It induces the poor to forget their poverty, and the rich to be careless of their wealth. It admonishes Kings to love and respect their people, and instructs subjects to obey and reverence their rulers. It shows how the humblest citizens, by the practise of virtue and the efforts of labour, may rise to the loftiest stations, and how the haughtiest lords, by the love of vice and the commission of errors, may fall from their elevated estate. It is an amusement and an art, a sport and a science. The erudite and untaught, the high and the low, the powerful and the weak, acknowledge its charms and confirm its enticements. We learn to like it in the years of our youth, but as increased familiarity has developed its beauties, and unfolded its lessons, our enthusiasm has grown stronger, and our fondness more confirmed.
NOTE. The earliest example of praise and censure of chess strikes us as very curious and sufficiently interesting to be presented as illustrating two varieties of Arabian style, and as exhibiting two sides of the question. It is from one of the early Arabian manuscripts called the Yawakit ul Mawakit in the collection Baron Hammer Purgstall at Vienna.
By Ibn Ul Mutazz.
CENSURE OF CHESS.
The chess player is ever absorbed in his chess and full of care, swearing false oaths and making many vain excuses, one who careth only for himself and angereth his Maker. 'Tis the game of him who keepeth the fast only when he is hungry, of the official who is in disgrace, of the drunkard till he recovereth from his drunkenness, and in the Yatimat ul Dehr it is said, Abul Casim al Kesrawi hated chess, and constantly abused it, saying, you never see a chess player rich who is not a sordid miser, nor hear a squabbling that is not on a question of the chess board.