The same thing happened again to the Edinburgh Club in the fourth game. In consequence of having put up the game erroneously, they sent an impossible move—that is to say, they directed a Knight to be moved to a square already occupied by their King. They discovered the mistake before the letter had left Edinburgh, but considered themselves as having incurred the penalty of playing an impossible move, which was, in the option of their adversary, either to move the Knight to some other square, or to move their King. Of these two, the move of the King was infinitely the better play, and therefore, in order to save time, a note was written on the outside of the letter explaining the mistake, and stating that the Edinburgh committee held themselves bound to move the Knight, which it was presumed the London Club would enforce, as the more severe penalty. The London Club did so; and yet Mr Lewis, in his notes to this game, rather disingenuously, as it appears to us, represented the London Club as having yielded an advantage to their antagonists, in accepting the move of the Knight. This merely accidental blunder, on the part of the Edinburgh Club, was one cause of their loss of the fourth game.
Seeing that the Edinburgh Club thus on all occasions subjected themselves to the most rigorous interpretation of the rules of the game, we cannot hold the Quarterly Review as justified in saying that they were "to blame" in not allowing the London Club to retract a move. But we appeal from the Quarterly reviewer as a partisan of England, to the Quarterly reviewer, as an impartial enunciator of general propositions respecting the game of chess. Hear what he says about the absurdity of giving back moves:—
"Another advantage has arisen from the multiplication of clubs, and consequent publication of accurate rules—viz., that the strict game is now played, instead of those courteous surrenders of advantages offered by a heedless adversary, which used often to make winners of those who had received back two or three leading pieces in the course of the game. These were a source of endless unpleasant discussions, besides being in themselves an absurdity. We confess we have no notion of rewarding an opponent for his oversights. We would show him as little mercy as Mr Smith O'Brien would to Lord Clarendon. Nay, we should be moved hereto by a consideration of his benefit as well as our own—for why should we teach him vacillation and heedlessness?"
Again, among a portentous list of narrow-minded delusions, he gives as "Delusion the Fifth—
"'That it is illiberal to play the strict game.' To this we can only reply, that other methods are but a miserable imitation. People talk of the hardship of 'losing a game by an oversight,' and so on. It is much harder to arrive at nothing but 'conclusions inconclusive,' and to have the game terminate in an Irish discussion which of the two parties made the greatest blunders."
We agree in every word of this; and we only wonder that so sound a reasoner should himself fall under the delusion which he exposes—so severe a censor should commit the very offence which he condemns.
On the whole, as regards the proposed recall of the 27th and 28th moves of the second game, we think these three propositions are conclusively established, 1. That neither according to the rules of the game, nor upon any other principle which does or ought to regulate the playing of matches, were the London Club entitled to have their proposal acceded to. 2. That though it had been acceded to, and these moves had been allowed to be recalled, the London Club could not have bettered their situation, as the opportunity of winning was already irretrievably lost in consequence of the 26th move, which was not asked to be recalled, but, on the contrary, was expressly adhered to. 3. That the impression which English chess-players have so industriously attempted to create, that the refusal on the part of Edinburgh to allow the 27th and 28th moves to be recalled was what prevented the London Club from winning the game, can only exist through a confusion between these moves and the previous one, which the London Club had adhered to after a renewed examination, not having even then discovered that it was unsound.
Before leaving the second game, we have this last additional remark to make about it, that it is one of the erroneous assumptions and inferences of the English writers, that the winning of that game would have decided the match in their favour. It was the first won game; and though it is true that the London Club subsequently won the fourth game, which was the successor of the second, it is also the fact that the fourth game, which was opened by the Edinburgh Club, would not have been played if the second had been won by London, who in that case would have had the opening of the fourth. We do not mean to say that having to open was a disadvantage. All we assert is, that, in point of fact, the game, which the Edinburgh Club lost partly through a mistake in setting up the men, and through another blunder, not very different in its character, would not have been played at all if London had won the second game. Besides, the fourth game would, in other respects, have been played under very different circumstances. The opening of the second game by the London Club was one which none of the Edinburgh players had ever seen before, though, from this match, it now goes by the name of the Scotch opening. They believed, however, from their consideration of the second game, that the London Club had not availed themselves of all the capabilities of the opening, and they thought it would be a spirited thing to return it upon their antagonists. This they did in the third game. The event rewarded their enterprising conduct. They gained a decided advantage; and during the greater part of the fourth game they believed that it would never require to be finished, as they thought that by winning the third game they would gain the match. This accounts for the carelessness with which they played the fourth game, though we think nothing can excuse carelessness in playing chess. They were ultimately disappointed in their expectation of gaining the third game, as the London Club succeeded in drawing it; and this rendered a fifth game necessary.
Down to the fifth game it appears plain enough, from the above examination, that the Edinburgh Club had maintained, at the very least, an equal position to their antagonists. The first game had been drawn, with no advantage at any stage of it, in favour of either party. The second had been won by Edinburgh, but was subject to the observation that, at one point, London might have won had they played as well as they afterwards discovered they might have done. The third game was drawn: but the advantage throughout had been in favour of Edinburgh, though not sufficiently so for winning; and, as was the case with London in the previous game, Edinburgh failed to perceive that by moving differently at a certain point, they would have been victorious. The fourth game was lost by Edinburgh, partly through an accidental and what may be called a mechanical blunder, and partly through another piece of carelessness of a similar character. After a contest thus maintained down to the commencement of the fifth game, it is beyond all question that the palm of superiority, in point of play, must rest with the victor in that game. And it was a game worthy to determine that question as well as the match. The Edinburgh Club had again returned upon their antagonists their own opening. In order to secure scope for the action of their pieces, they showed considerable intrepidity in disregarding the ordinary rules against doubled and isolated pawns; and so admirably had they analysed the game, that for a great many moves they knew that victory was certain, though all the while the London Club, according to the confession of some of their own members, were blind to the fate that was awaiting them; and believed, on the contrary, that the game was in their own hands. This fifth game will long be remembered by chess players as one of the most remarkable in the annals of chess; and appears to us conclusive, so far as regards the internal evidence derived from the games themselves, that the superiority, in point of play, lay with the Edinburgh Club, and that their winning the match was not a mere accident.
It may be that there are other data for determining the relative superiority of the two Clubs; but we cannot admit the correctness of any of those mentioned by the Quarterly reviewer or Mr Staunton. It is true, as these gentlemen say, that the Edinburgh Club was comparatively inexperienced. It had only been instituted in 1822, and the match was begun in 1824. It comprehended, almost exclusively, professional gentlemen actively engaged in business, who had not, generally speaking, much leisure or opportunity for seeking antagonists out of their own little circle of chess-players at home. On the other hand, it cannot be disputed that there is to be found in the metropolis of England, in greater abundance than anywhere else, that combination of leisure with intellectual power, which gives the promise of good chess-playing. But these circumstances do not lead our minds to the conclusion to which Mr Staunton and the Quarterly reviewer have come, that the winning of the match by the Edinburgh Club was an accident. We should rather be inclined to hold, considering the character of the contest as explained by us above, that they are a proof of the greater natural chess-playing capacity of the members of the Club which won the match under such disadvantages. Again, Mr Staunton asks where are the previous exploits to which the Edinburgh players could point, such as those that the members of the London Club had performed? The answer is, None. They never had, and never sought the opportunity of performing any great chess exploit, except beating the London Club. But in so doing they made their own all the previous victories of the London Club. The event showed that they might, without presumption, have expressed the sentiment of Prince Henry—