Chess History and Reminiscences

by H. E. Bird

The article about "Fleas and Nits" which well nigh led to the extinction of the Chess Monthly emanated from Covent Garden and was aimed at Mr. Steinitz.

Steinitz has perhaps been the subject of more jokes than any other chess player. From the day when he first assumed the responsibilities of chess editorship, and as some are wont to say "kept watch over The Field Office lest it should disappear before the morning," to the time when he unfortunately left us for America he was nearly always a fertile theme of amusement with the joke-loving members of the chess fraternity. We fancy we see him now with pen behind the ear pacing up and down the Divan rooms with horried start and whisper dread, saying, "O have you seen my article! How many K's in occur? and is there more than one H in editor?" He has improved since then and is a match for Hoffer. The clocks (implements of torture I call them) used for regulating the time consumed in chess matches have led to several facetious stories at Steinitz's expense, some, however, not too good natured. Still it was curious to see his gymnastics, mental and physical, between observance of the chess board and the time pieces on occasions when time run short and indeed sometimes when it did not.

A game between Steinitz and Rosenthal in the London Criterion Tournament of 1883 furnished an example which will doubtless be familiarly remembered by those present. With eight moves to make in about as many minutes in his excitement he had apparently unwillingly climbed the back of a chair and not till he had completed the requisite number within the hour and began to breathe freely did he seem conscious of where he was. Though anxious for a moment or so he succeeded in getting down very cleverly without mishap, not however escaping some signs of trepidation.

A St. Louis writer in 1886, after one of his games with Zukertort, described in true American fashion Steinitz's tall chair and short legs and his frantic efforts to regain terra firma, as the writer described it, to reach the American hemisphere. Steinitz's high appreciation of proficiency in the game and what is due to one who attains it was once illustrated before a great man at Vienna, who rebuked him for humming whilst playing at chess, saying, "Don't you know that I am the great Banker?" The reply was characteristic of Steinitz. "And don't you know that I am the Rothschild of chess?"

A beautiful chess position with Steinitz beats any work of art as Al Solis chess, in the opinion of the Caliph, one thousand years ago far excelled the flowers in his most beautiful garden and everything that was in it. More than this, Prime Ministers and Lord Chancellors, Liberal and Conservative, come and go but there is but one first Lord in chess, says Steinitz.

Steinitz was so much gratified with the reminder of mine at Simpson's, that three of the greatest minds ever known have had the same initials that he will pardon the little addition joke from Paternoster Row. The three mighty W.S.'s are Wilhelm Steinitz, William Shakespeare and Walter Scott. He was not so well pleased with the addition of the unnecessary missing words William Sykes.

Steinitz was introduced at a club once as the Champion. "Of what?" was the reply.

Steinitz has been known to grieve much when he has lost at chess; at Dundee, for example, in 1866 after his defeat by De Vere his friends became alarmed at his woe and disappearance. Again, after his fall to Rosenthal in a game he should have won at the Criterion in 1883, news were brought that he was on a seat in St. James' Park quite uncontrollable.

Steinitz is liberally disposed to others in mind and purse. The following brevities on chess are known to have been much admired by him, I therefore append them for his artistic eye.

So old and enthusiastic a chess player as Bird, and one who has travelled about so much professionally, and on chess, has naturally been the object of many pleasantries, and bon mots, although he escaped the Fortnightly Review writers, being regarded, at least by one of them as a very serious person, L'Anglais comme il faut of the Vienna Neue Frie Presse. The despised Britisher of custom house officers (who always chalk him away, hardly deigning to examine his luggage even). He has figured as the sea captain of the New York Sun, the farmer of the Rochester Press, the ladies chess professor of the Albany Argus, and the veteran of the Montreal Press, his vicissitudes have led him into strange places, among others to a wigwam of the Indians at Sarnia in 1860, and a representation of one in the Vienna Exhibition of 1873, when much to the amusement of Professor Anderssen and Baron Kolisch he received such a cordial reception from a lady who recognized him as an old friend and customer at Niagara falls, the lady in question being commonly termed a squaw (not a disrespectful word for a lady it is hoped). Bird has been in the Nest at Amsterdam, in the Bowery at New York, and in the accident ward at Vienna, and has witnessed many strange things and distressing circumstances, and has endured interviewers and Irish Home Rulers in America without a shudder, and has perhaps been asked more questions about chess than any man living, because he good naturedly always answers them, and has furnished matter enough in ten minutes for a two-column article. He has been accused of a partiality for whisky hot, especially when served by female hands, of ordering soles by special train at Nuremberg, though he only disposed or them at breakfast not knowing their price or from whence they came. Blackburne and Hoffer are responsible for the statement that he sat up through the night at Vienna preparing statistics, with nothing but his hat on. The allegation in the Field and elsewhere that he instructed the French President to fetch a cab for him on a busy fete day at the Champs de Elysees, in 1878, is not just, that genial and courteous gentleman having volunteered to do so under exceptional circumstances, and as all act of sympathy, and perhaps on account of Bird's play, who though suffering acutely from gout on that particular day won one of his two best games of Anderssen. If Bird had a carriage and pair to the barbers to get a shave (quite recently asserted) it was because he could not find a conveyance with one horse in time to reach his destination. When he made a late dinner solely off Pate de Foie Grass at the Marquis d'Andigny's banquet at St. Germains, Paris, in 1878, when there were any number of courses, he did so because be liked the flavour (certainly did not find it savourless) not comprehending the waiter's surprise or aware of its bilious tendency till afterwards. Even a king once dined off goose livers or something of the sort, and we have heard somewhere of a "feast of snails."