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[Illustration: Paul Morphy]

THE

EXPLOITS AND TRIUMPHS,

IN EUROPE,

OF

PAUL MORPHY,

The Chess Champion;

INCLUDING

AN HISTORICAL ACCOUNT OF CLUBS, BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES
OF FAMOUS PLAYERS, AND VARIOUS INFORMATION AND
ANECDOTE RELATING TO THE NOBLE
GAME OF CHESS.

BY

PAUL MORPHY'S LATE SECRETARY.

ILLUSTRATED WITH TEN PORTRAITS ON WOOD.

NEW YORK:
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY,
346 & 348 BROADWAY.
M.DCCC.LIX.




Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1859,

BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY,

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the
Southern District of New York.




THIS RECORD

OF

PAUL MORPHY'S

ACHIEVEMENTS IN THE OLD WORLD,

IS DEDICATED

TO

The Members of

THE FIRST AMERICAN CHESS CONGRESS,

BY
THEIR MOST GRATEFUL
      AND OBLIGED SERVANT,
            THE AUTHOR.




PREFACE.


I am much indebted, in the following pages, to the kind assistance of that
able writer and veteran chess-player, Mr. George Walker, who has furnished
me with most of the very interesting and valuable information contained in
the fourth chapter of this work. I am likewise under obligations to Herr
Löwenthal for many anecdotes relating to chess celebrities of the past,
and other information; and also to Mr. George Medley, Honorary Secretary
of the London Chess Club, and Mr. Ries, of the Divan.

The cuts with which this work is embellished have been engraved by the
well-known Brothers Dalziel. The portrait of Paul Morphy, copied from a
photograph taken shortly after his arrival in London last year, is an
excellent likeness.

The portraits of Messrs. Staunton, Boden, Anderssen, and Löwenthal, are
copies of photographs, for which they sat at the Manchester Meeting, in
1857. The originals of Messrs. Saint Amant and Harrwitz are admirably
executed lithographs of those gentlemen, taken about four years ago, and
that of Mr. Mongredieu is copied from a photograph kindly lent for the
purpose.

I am under great obligations to Mr. Lewis, who came to London expressly to
sit for his likeness; and I feel assured that my readers will value this
"very form and feature" of an amateur who was famous before Labourdonnais
was known outside the Régence; and whose works are found in every
chess-player's library.

I had considerable difficulty in obtaining the portrait of Mr. George
Walker. Photographs, lithographs, etc., of that most popular of all chess
writers, did not exist, and many friends prophesied that his likeness
would not be in my book. But I importuned him so that he relented, and
confided to my care an oil painting, for which he sat five years ago, and
which was the only portrait of him in existence.

My readers can judge of the resemblance of the other cuts by the portrait
of Paul Morphy. I only wish my story was as good.




CONTENTS.


                                                 PAGE

CHAPTER I.

MORPHY'S FIRST GAMES                               1

CHAPTER II.

THE FIRST AMERICAN CHESS CONGRESS                  4

CHAPTER III.

MORPHY PREPARES TO START FOR EUROPE               12

CHAPTER IV.

CHESS IN ENGLAND                                  23

CHAPTER V.

MORPHY IN ENGLAND                                 57

CHAPTER VI.

THE STAUNTON AFFAIR                               86

CHAPTER VII.

MORPHY IN FRANCE                                 140

CHAPTER VIII.

THE CAFÉ DE LA RÉGENCE                           144

CHAPTER IX.

THE MATCH BETWEEN MORPHY AND HARRWITZ            150

CHAPTER X.

MORPHY'S GREATEST BLINDFOLD FEAT                 159

CHAPTER XI.

CONTINUATION OF THE MATCH WITH HARRWITZ          166

CHAPTER XII.

MORPHY IN SOCIETY                                170

CHAPTER XIII.

MORPHY AND THE FRENCH AMATEURS                   176

CHAPTER XIV.

MORPHY GETS BEATEN                               183

CHAPTER XV.

MORPHY AND ANDERSSEN                             186

CHAPTER XVI.

MORPHY AND MONGREDIEU                            197

CHAPTER XVII.

TROPHIES                                         200

VALEDICTORY                                      203




PAUL MORPHY.




CHAPTER I.

MORPHY'S FIRST GAMES.


Paul Morphy's father, Judge Morphy, of the Supreme Court of Louisiana,
beguiled his leisure hours with the fascinations of Chess, and, finding a
precocious aptitude for the game in his son, he taught him the moves and
the value of the various pieces. In the language of somebody,--

    "To teach the young Paul chess,
      His leisure he'd employ;
    Until, at last, the old man
      Was beaten by the boy."

I have here spoilt a very pretty story. The report in chess circles is,
that the young Paul learned the moves from seeing his father play with
his uncle, Mr. Ernest Morphy, long ranking amongst the first players in
the Union, and one of the brightest living ornaments of American chess.
One evening--so runs the tale--this gentleman awaited the arrival of the
Judge, when Master Paul impudently offered to be his antagonist. What was
the uncle's astonishment at finding the stripling a match for his deepest
combinations, and what the father's surprise on discovering a very
Philidor in his son of ten years! Deschapelles became a first-rate player
in three days, at the age of something like thirty. Nobody ever believed
the statement, not even Deschapelles himself, although his biographer
declares he had told the lie so often that he at last forgot the facts of
the case. But the story about Morphy beats the Deschapelles story in the
proportion of thirty to ten. I sorrowfully confess that my hero's
unromantic regard for truth makes him characterize the above statement as
a humbug and an impossibility.

Paul's genius for Chess was, very properly, not permitted to interfere
with his educational pursuits. At college (in South Carolina) until
eighteen years of age, he had but little time for indulgence in his
favorite game, nor did he find any one capable of contending with him.
When the vacations allowed of his playing against such adepts as his
father and uncle, or such well-known paladins as Mr. Ernest Rousseau, of
New Orleans, and Judge Meek, of Alabama, he soon showed himself superior
to all antagonists. In the autumn of 1849, Herr Löwenthal, the celebrated
Hungarian player, visited the Crescent City, and out of three games
against the young Paul, then but twelve years old, he lost two and drew
one. It is but reasonable to suppose that the desire of atoning for this
defeat had something to do with Herr Löwenthal's challenging his youthful
victor, on his arrival last year in Europe.




CHAPTER II.

THE FIRST AMERICAN CHESS CONGRESS.


A circular was issued by the New York Chess Club, in the month of April,
1857, "for the purpose of ascertaining the feasibility and propriety of a
general assemblage of the chess players resident in America." This "met
with a hearty and zealous response from the amateurs and clubs of the
United States. So favorable was the feeling everywhere manifested, that it
was deemed advisable to proceed with the undertaking, and to complete at
once the preliminary arrangements."[A] In consideration of the movement
having been initiated by the New York Chess Club, it was conceded that the
meeting should take place in that city.

Some of the founders of the New York Chess Club still live to do honor to
the game. I believe that Mr. James Thompson and Colonel Mead suckled the
bantling in times of yore, sometimes forming the entire of the Club
without assistance. In that day of small things, I believe, too, they
defeated the Norfolk (Va.) Club, proving themselves just two too many for
their opponents. Then they travelled about from house to house, as their
members increased, with the arrival of Mr. Charles H. Stanley, Mr.
Frederick Perrin, and others. About 1855 or 1856, the Club made the
acquisition of two enterprising young players, Mr. Theodore Lichtenhein
and Mr. Daniel W. Fiske; and to the latter gentleman is due the credit of
first suggesting this Chess Congress, which made known to fame the genius
of Paul Morphy.

In the summer of 1857, being then engaged on the New York Herald, I used
occasionally to tumble into the basement of an edifice opposite the
newspaper office, where a jolly, fat German, with a never-to-be-remembered
name, regaled his visitors upon sausages and "lager." Here the members of
the Chess Club were wont to congregate; for the landlord had provided
chessmen and boards as an inducement to visitors.

One afternoon being engaged in a game with a brother reporter, a
gentleman, whom I subsequently learned was Mr. Theodore Lichtenhein,
stepped up to us, and put into our hands the prospectus of the approaching
Chess Congress, stating his opinion that an event of so much importance
merited newspaper publicity. So began my acquaintance with American chess
amateurs. Although possessing but little skill as a player, I had a strong
liking for the game, and determined that every thing in my power should
be done to render the meeting successful.

My visits to the saloon, and eventually to the Club, became frequent, and
the Committee of Management, finding that I both could and would work, did
me the honor of appointing me one of the secretaries.

The Congress was advertised to open on the 6th of October, but players
began to arrive some weeks previously. First of all came Judge Meek, of
Alabama, a truly imposing specimen of a man. Soon after him followed Mr.
Louis Paulsen, from Dubuque, Iowa, whose astonishing blindfold feats out
West were the theme of general talk, and almost total disbelief, amongst
Eastern players. From Judge Meek we first heard of Paul Morphy's wondrous
strength. He told the New York Club that if the youthful Louisianian
entered the tournament, he would infallibly wrest the palm of victory from
all competition.

We were much afraid, nevertheless, that Mr. Morphy would be unable to quit
his legal studies for the purpose of attending the Congress, but when Mr.
Fiske announced the receipt of a telegraphic despatch, which stated that
he was _en route_, everybody hailed the news with satisfaction. Mr.
Paulsen now came to the support of Judge Meek, and declared that Paul
Morphy would carry off the first prize in the tournament; giving, as the
grounds of his opinion, some two or three published games of the young
Louisianian, which he considered worthy to rank with the finest
master-pieces of chess strategy. Benignant fate brought the young hero
safely to New York, some two days before the assembling of the Congress.

Who that was present that evening does not remember Paul Morphy's first
appearance at the New York Chess Club? The secretary, Mr. Frederick
Perrin, valorously offered to be his first antagonist, and presented about
the same resistance as a musquito to an avalanche. Then who should enter
the room but the warrior Stanley, tomahawk in one hand and the scalps of
Schulten and Rousseau in the other. Loud cries were made for "Stanley!
Stanley!" and Mr. Perrin resigned his seat to the new comer, in deference
to so general a request. Thus commenced a contest, or rather a succession
of contests, in which Mr. Stanley was indeed astonished. "Mate" followed
upon "mate," until he arose from his chair in bewildered defeat.

The following day, the assembled delegates and amateurs from the various
clubs, organized the Congress by the election of a president, in the
person of Judge Meek, with Mr. Fiske as secretary, four assistant
secretaries, marshals, treasurer, etc. All these matters of detail, as
well as the games played, the laws passed, etc., etc., will eventually
appear in the long looked for "Book of the Congress," forthcoming with the
completion of the "British Museum Catalogue."

In the absence of the "Book of the Congress," I must give a slight sketch
of its proceedings, in order to trace the career of Paul Morphy _ab
initio_. After taking possession of the magnificent hall which the New
York Committee of Management had chosen for the meeting, the sixteen
contestants in the Grand Tournament, proceeded to pair themselves off by
lot. Never was fate more propitious than on this occasion in coupling the
antagonists. It is obvious, that however apparently equal in strength two
opponents may be, one will prove stronger than the other. This is an axiom
requiring no proof. Out of sixteen, one is better than the rest, and one
out of the remaining fifteen is stronger than the fourteen others. The
latter player may be drawn in the first round of the tournay with the
former, and though he stand incomparably the superior of all but one, he
loses every chance of a prize by being put immediately _hors du combat_.

Amongst the sixteen players who entered the lists, two were unmistakably
the strongest, namely, Messrs. Morphy and Paulsen; and much fear was
manifested lest they might be drawn together, in the first round. Such,
however, was not the case. Mr. Paulsen was coupled with Mr. Dennis Julien,
the well-known problem maker, and a gentleman whose hospitality to chess
players scarcely requires praise from me. Mr. Julien had allowed his name
to be entered in the Grand Tournament in the absence of the representative
of Connecticut, Mr. S. R. Calthrop, but the latter player arriving shortly
after, Mr. Julien was but too happy to resign in his favor. Mr. Morphy's
antagonist was Mr. James Thompson, of New York, a gentleman who finished
his chess education at the Café de la Régence, and the London Chess Divan,
noted for the brilliancy and daring of his attack, and his pertinacity in
playing the Evans' Gambit wherever he has a chance. If Mr. Thompson had
not been pitted against such a terrible opponent, in the first round, he
would have tested the powers of some of the other players.

Mr. Morphy's second opponent was Judge Meek. As they took their seats
opposite each other, one thought of David and Goliath; not that the Judge
gasconaded in any wise after the fashion of the tall Philistine, for
modesty adorns all his actions; but there was as much difference in cubic
contents between the two antagonists, as between the son of Jesse and the
bully of Gath, and in both cases the little one came out biggest. Judge
Meek sat down with an evident conviction of the result, and although he
assured his youthful opponent, that if he continued mating him without
ever allowing him the least chance, he would put him in his pocket, he
consoled himself with the reflection that Paul Morphy would serve
everybody else as he served him.

Hitherto our hero had won every game. In the third round he encountered
the strongest player of the New York Club, Mr. Theodore Lichtenhein, a
gentleman who had formerly been President of the Circle des Echecs at
Königsburg in Prussia, and an admirable exponent of the Berlin school of
play. Mr. Lichtenhein eventually carried off the third prize in the
tournament, and although he did not win any game from Mr. Morphy, he
succeeded in effecting "a draw," which, against such a terrible enemy, is
almost worthy of being esteemed a victory.

Mr. Paulsen had also been successful in the first and second rounds
without losing or drawing a single game, and, as if to keep even with his
great rival, he, too, had made "a draw" in the third section of the
tournament--with Dr. Raphael, of Kentucky. Now was to be decided the
championship of the New World, and notwithstanding that the majority
anticipated the result, yet many of the spectators thought that the
Western knight might prove a hard nut for Morphy to crack. Mr. Paulsen's
game is steady and analytical to a nicety. Modelling his operations on
profound acquaintance with Philidor, he makes as much out of his Pawns as
most others of their Pieces. In reply to Mons. de Rivière, I once heard
Morphy say, "Mr. Paulsen never makes an oversight; I sometimes do."

It is only justice to Mr. Paulsen to state, that he never for one moment
imagined that he would beat Mr. Morphy. So exalted was his appreciation of
the latter's wondrous powers of combination, that he has been frequently
heard to declare--"If Anderssen and Staunton were here, they would stand
no chance with Paul Morphy; and he would beat Philidor and Labourdonnais
too, if they were alive." And when, after the termination of the Congress,
Mr. Morphy offered Pawn and Move to all and every player in America, Mr.
Paulsen declared that he could easily give those odds to him. But this
invariable confession of inferiority did not at all interfere with his
doing the utmost to become victor, although supremacy was only to be
decided by one player scoring five games. If I recollect rightly, it was
in the third game that Mr. Morphy committed an error, which spoiled one of
the finest combinations ever seen on a chess-board. This combination
consisted of some eighteen or twenty moves, and its starting point was one
of those daring sacrifices which European players dignify with the title
"à la Morphy." Certain of the inevitable result, (_humanum est erraret_
almost loses its signification when applied to his combinations,) our hero
played rapidly, and misplaced a move. The result was, loss of attack and a
piece, and apparently of the game; the most ardent admirer of Paul Morphy
believed it was impossible for him to avoid defeat. But though angry with
himself for his carelessness, he was not disheartened, but set to work
with courage, and effected "a draw." The latter part of this game is a
masterpiece of perseverance and strategy. The result of the tournament is
well known. Mr. Morphy won five games, drew one, and lost one in the
concluding section--only one battle lost during the entire campaign. The
annals of chess do not furnish a similar victory.

FOOTNOTES:

[A] Prospectus of "The National Chess Congress."




CHAPTER III.

MORPHY PREPARES TO START FOR EUROPE.


Arriving in Europe three months before Mr. Morphy, I was in some
sort,--not from any consent or knowledge on his part, his _avant courier_;
and the fact of my having been one of the Secretaries at the New York
Chess Congress, joined to my acquaintance with him, afforded me the
opportunity of conversing frequently with prominent English players in
reference to this new meteor in the chess firmament.

Shortly after my arrival in London, I called upon the Secretary of the St.
George's Chess Club, Thomas Hampton, Esq., and introduced myself to him.
Chess is a bond of brotherhood amongst all lovers of the noble game, as
perfect as free masonry. It is a leveller of rank--title, wealth,
nationality, politics, religion--all are forgotten across the board. Every
chess player recognizes this, and none more so than Mr. Hampton, who gave
me the warmest of welcomes. He told me that every Saturday there was a
full attendance of members, and kindly invited me to visit the club on
that day, promising to introduce me to Mr. Staunton. I was but too happy
to accept this invitation, being desirous of learning how far the prowess
of Paul Morphy was appreciated by one so eminent in the chess world.

My acquaintance with the young American was a passport of general interest
to all present on the following Saturday. In addition to Mr. Staunton, I
met there Herr Falkbeer, Messrs. Barnes, Bird, "Alter," and other
luminaries, and many were the questions asked in reference to Mr. Morphy.
But I am bound to say that the feeling with which he was regarded in the
United States was not participated in by English players. I was told by
one gentleman--"Mr. Morphy's games are very pretty, but they will not bear
the test of analysis." Another said--and his opinion was universally
endorsed--"It is quite possible that Mr. Morphy may arrive at the highest
rank, nay, even that he may become a second Labourdonnais, but he cannot
have the strength his admiring countrymen wish to believe. Chess requires
many long years of attentive study, and frequent play with the best
players, and neither of these your friend has had. Depend upon it he will
find European amateurs very different opponents from those he has hitherto
encountered." This rather nettled me, but it was reasonable and just. Any
one possessing the slightest acquaintance with the game knows that it
partakes more of hard, laborious application to arrive at first-rate
skill, than of mere pastime. Very few of Morphy's games had been seen in
Europe, and his opponents were not, certainly, of a class to rank with the
Stauntons, Löwenthals, and Anderssens of the Old World. Was it reasonable
to suppose that a youth, just out of his teens, who had devoted but little
time to chess, and who was about to meet first-rate players for the first
time, should possess the experience and lore of men double his age? At the
present time, now that he has unmistakably proved himself the superior of
all living players, I feel utterly at a loss to solve the problem of his
skill. At college, until eighteen years old, what time could he find
there, except out of school hours, for the required practice, and what
antagonists worthy of him? From eighteen to twenty, he was engaged in
reading for the bar. During that period he was as frequent a visitor at
the chess club as circumstances would permit, but certainly not
sufficiently so to increase his strength. Who were his antagonists? His
father had almost entirely abandoned chess; Mr. Ernest Morphy had settled
in "the West," and Mr. Rousseau, absorbed in the sterner duties of life,
held the same relation to the game as Mr. Lewis in England. To one and all
of his opponents, except these gentlemen, he could give the rook; and
playing at odds is somewhat different from contending with even players.
He met strong players for the first time at New York. Paulsen,
Lichtenhein, Thompson, Montgomery, Marache were all northern players, and
new to him, and vastly superior to the antagonists he had previously
encountered. There is but one way to account for his annihilation of all
precedent. His skill is intuitive, and I doubt much whether his prodigious
memory has been of assistance to him. In answer to a gentleman in Paris as
to whether he had not studied many works on chess, I heard him state that
no author had been of much value to him, and that he was astonished at
finding various positions and solutions given as novel--certain moves
producing certain results, etc., _for that he had made the same deductions
himself, as necessary consequences_. In like manner, Newton demonstrated,
in his own mind, the problems of Euclid, the enunciations only being
given; and I can think of no more suitable epithet for Morphy than to call
him "the Newton of Chess."

But _revenons à nos moutons_. Morphy's achievements at the Congress in New
York induced many to believe that America now possessed a champion capable
of contending with the proficients of Europe, and it was proposed that he
should be backed by the American Chess Association against any player who
would take up the challenge. I am sorry to say that the action of certain
prominent men prevented the gauntlet being thrown down. These gentlemen
said, "He beats us because he is better versed in the openings, but such
players as Löwenthal and Harrwitz will be too strong for him. He wants
experience, and were we to make this national challenge, we should appear
ridiculous when our champion is defeated, which he certainly would be."
The proposal, however, got noised abroad, and the following paragraph
appeared, in consequence, in the Illustrated London News:

     "CHALLENGE TO EUROPEAN CHESS PLAYERS."[B]

     "The American Chess Association, it is reported, are about to
     challenge any player in Europe to contest a match with the
     young victor in the late passage at arms, for from $2,000 to
     $5,000 a side, the place of meeting being New York. If the
     battle-ground were to be London or Paris, there can be little
     doubt, we apprehend, that a European champion would be found;
     but the best players in Europe are not chess professionals, but
     have other and more serious avocations, the interests of which
     forbid such an expenditure of time as is required for a voyage
     to the United States and back again."

I would say, by way of parenthesis, that such a being as a professional
chess player does not exist in the United States. Paulsen is a tobacco
broker, with tendencies to speculating in "corner lots." (Western men know
what that means.) Lichtenhein deals in dry-goods, dry wines and Italian
opera; Thompson is the proprietor of a magnificent restaurant; Colonel
Mead devotes himself to democratic cabals at the New York Hotel; Fiske is
an admixture of the Chess Monthly, the Astor Library and Scandinavian
literature; Perrin and Marache are bothered daily with banks, "bears" and
"bulls." Chess professionals, indeed! they do not grow in the United
States.

Mr. Morphy returned to his native city without any further action having
been taken, but the New Orleans Chess Club determined that the challenge
should be made, and they addressed the following letter to Mr. Staunton,
at the commencement of last year:

                              NEW ORLEANS, _February 4, 1858_.

     HOWARD STAUNTON, ESQ.,

     Sir,--On behalf of the New Orleans Chess Club, and in
     compliance with the instructions of that body, we, the
     undersigned committee, have the honor to invite you to visit
     our city, and there meet Mr. Paul Morphy in a chess match. In
     transmitting this invitation, permit us to observe, that we are
     prompted no less by the desire to become personally acquainted
     with one whom we have so long admired, than by the very natural
     anxiety to ascertain the strength of our American players by
     the decisive criterion of actual conflict over the board.

     We can see no valid reason why an exercise so intellectual and
     ennobling as chess, should be excluded from the generous
     rivalry which exists between the Old and the New World, in all
     branches of human knowledge and industry. That the spirit of
     emulation from which this rivalry arises has not, hitherto,
     been made to embrace our chivalrous game, may be mainly
     ascribed to the fact that, although the general attention paid
     to chess in the United States during the last fifteen years has
     produced a number of fine players, yet their relative force
     remained undetermined, and none could assert an indisputable
     right to pre-eminence. The late Chess Congress has, however,
     removed this obstacle, by finally settling the claims of the
     several aspirants to the championship; and it must now be a
     matter of general desire to fix, by actual contest with the
     best European amateurs, the rank which American players shall
     hold in the hierarchy of chess.

     For this purpose it was suggested that Mr. Morphy, the winner
     at the late Congress and the present American champion, should
     cross the ocean, and boldly encounter the distinguished
     magnates of the transatlantic chess circles; but it
     unfortunately happens that serious family reasons forbid Mr.
     Morphy, for the present, to entertain the thought of visiting
     Europe. It, therefore, becomes necessary to arrange, if
     possible, a meeting between the latter and the acknowledged
     European champion, in regard to whom there can be no scope for
     choice or hesitation--the common voice of the chess world
     pronounces your name; and to us it is a subject of
     congratulation that the sceptre of transatlantic chess is
     wielded by one who, with respect to regularity of communication
     between the two countries, and for other reasons, enjoys
     facilities for accepting our invitation possessed by no other
     European player.

     We take the liberty herewith to inclose a series of proposed
     "terms of the match," which has been drawn up, not for the
     purpose of imposing conditions, but with a view to obviate the
     necessity of repeated correspondence. We have been studious to
     make these terms as equitable as possible, and to include all
     matters upon which contestation was likely to arise. You are
     respectfully invited to suggest any alterations which you may
     deem advisable, not only in the minor points embraced, but also
     as to the amount of the stakes, the time fixed for the
     commencement of the match, &c., &c.

     Fully subscribing to the wisdom of the proposal made by you in
     the introduction to the "Book of the Tournament," we beg leave
     to express our entire willingness to insert a clause providing
     that "one-half at least" (or even _all_) "of the games shall be
     _open_ ones."

     In conclusion, Sir, receive the assurance that it will afford
     us extreme pleasure to welcome among us a gentleman, who is as
     greatly admired for his powers in play as he is esteemed for
     his many and valuable contributions to the literature of chess.

     Hoping soon to receive a favorable answer, we remain, with
     distinguished regard, your obedient servants,

        E. W. HALSEY,         CHAS. A. MAURIAN, JR.,
        FRANCIS MICHINARD,    P. E. BONFORD,
        E. PANDELY.


     TERMS OF THE MATCH.

     1. The amount of the stakes, on each side, to be five thousand
     dollars, and the winner of the first eleven games to be
     declared the victor, and entitled to the stakes.

     2. The match to be played in the city of New Orleans.

     3. Should the English player lose the match, the sum of one
     thousand dollars (£200) to be paid to him out of the stakes, in
     reimbursement of the expenses incurred by him in accepting this
     challenge.

     4. The games to be conducted in accordance with the rules laid
     down in Mr. Staunton's "Chess Player's Handbook."

     5. The parties to play with Staunton chessmen of the usual
     club-size, and on a board of corresponding dimensions.

     6. The match to be commenced on or about the first of May,
     1858, (or on any other day during the present year most
     agreeable to Mr. Staunton,) and to be continued at not less
     than four sittings each week.

     7. In order that the stay of the English player in New Orleans
     be not unnecessarily prolonged, he shall have the right to fix
     the hours of play at from ten o'clock, A. M., to two, P. M.,
     and from six to ten o'clock, P. M.

     8. The time occupied in deliberating on any move, shall not
     exceed thirty minutes.

     9. The right to publish the games is reserved exclusively to
     the contestants, subject only to such private arrangements as
     they may agree upon.

     10. The stakes on the part of Mr. Staunton to be deposited
     prior to the commencement of the match in the hands of ----;
     and those on the part of Mr. Morphy, in the hands of Eugene
     Rousseau, Esq., cashier of the Citizen's Bank of Louisiana.

       *       *       *       *       *

On the 3d of April, Mr. Staunton replied to this very flattering
communication as follows, through the "Illustrated London News:"--

     "PROPOSED CHESS MATCH BETWEEN ENGLAND AND AMERICA FOR ONE
     THOUSAND POUNDS A SIDE.--We have been favored with a copy of
     the _defi_ which the friends of Mr. Paul Morphy, the chess
     champion of the United States, have transmitted to Mr.
     Staunton. The terms of this cartel are distinguished by extreme
     courtesy, and with one notable exception, by extreme liberality
     also. The exception in question, however, (we refer to the
     clause which stipulates that the combat shall take place in New
     Orleans!) appears to us utterly fatal to the match; and we must
     confess our astonishment that the intelligent gentlemen who
     drew up the conditions did not themselves discover this. Could
     it possibly escape their penetration, that if Mr. Paul Morphy,
     a young gentleman without family ties or professional claims
     upon his attention, finds it inconvenient to anticipate, by a
     few months, an intended voyage to Europe, his proposed
     antagonist, who is well known for years to have been compelled,
     by laborious literary occupation, to abandon the practice of
     chess beyond the indulgence of an occasional game, must find it
     not merely inconvenient, but positively impracticable, to cast
     aside all engagements, and undertake a journey of many thousand
     miles for the sake of a chess-encounter? Surely the idea of
     such a sacrifice is not admissible for a single moment. If Mr.
     Morphy--for whose skill we entertain the liveliest
     admiration--be desirous to win his spurs among the chess
     chivalry of Europe, he must take advantage of his purposed
     visit next year; he will then meet in this country, in France,
     in Germany, and in Russia, many champions whose names must be
     as household words to him, ready to test and do honor to his
     prowess."

Can this mean aught else than, "Come over to England and I will play
you?"

FOOTNOTES:

[B] Illustrated London News, December 26th, 1857.




CHAPTER IV.

CHESS IN ENGLAND.


Most of us know how "Box," when called upon by "Cox," to give explanations
of the improper attentions he (Box) was paying to C.'s wife, hums and haws
and begins, "Towards the close of the sixteenth century;" when Cox very
properly cries out, "What the deuce has the sixteenth century to do with
my wife?" Many of my readers may, like Cox, want to know what a great deal
my book contains has to do with Paul Morphy; all I have to say, in reply,
is,--if you don't like it, skip it; more especially the following thirty
pages, which, nevertheless, will be interesting to all chess-players.

Chess seems to have first acquired social importance in England during
Philidor's residence in that country. Judging from the number of titled
names attached to his work as subscribers, the British aristocracy were,
in his time, much given to the game, but "nous avons changé tout cela,"
and the English nobility nowadays, with but a few notable exceptions,
confine their abilities to "Tattersall's" and "Aunt Sally."

"What a fall was there, my countrymen!"

Surely the "King of Games," which has enlisted amongst its votaries such
names as that of the victor of Culloden, and his rival, Maréchal Saxe;
without enumerating those of all the greatest warriors of many centuries,
might still offer inducements to their comparatively unknown descendants.
We have thousands of men, composing the British aristocracy, at a loss to
get rid of their time; sauntering down to their clubs at mid-day;
listlessly turning over the leaves of magazines and reviews, until their
dinner-hour arrives. Why, in the name of common sense, do not these men
learn something of chess, and thus provide themselves with a pastime which
not merely hastens Time's chariot-wheels, but quickens the intellect? One
gets tired of billiards, cards, horse-racing, etc., but your chess-player
becomes more enamored of his game, the more he knows of it.

It may have been that gentlemen and nobles affixed their names to
Philidor's book, out of compliment or charity, but it is doubtful whether
their descendants would now do so, even from those considerations. Must we
measure the capacity of dukes and lords by that intellectual standard,
"Aunt Sally?"

Philidor certainly did much for chess, particularly in England. He
possessed peculiar advantages for so doing. In the first place he had true
talent; his powers for playing blindfold excited extraordinary interest
at the time, not merely amongst chess players, but especially with the
titled crowd. His political antecedents increased the general interest,
and, last and best of all, he was a foreigner. If Philidor had been an
Englishman he would hardly have sold a copy of his book.

Philidor organized a chess club in London, which met at Parsloe's Coffee
House, St. James street. At the present day little is known of that early
association, and we cannot even tell whether the members were numerous.
After his death, chess seems to have languished; Parsloe's club dragged on
its existence during some years, dying from inanition about 1825. The
London Chess Club, first organized in 1807, kept alive the sacred fire;
but that was the only community in England during the first quarter of
this century where the game was publicly played. Some years after the
establishment of the London, the Edinburgh Chess Club started into
existence. In 1833, a great impetus was given to the game by the
commencement of a weekly chess article in the columns of "Bell's Life in
London." Amateurs now had an organ which could record their achievements;
men hitherto unknown beyond their private circles felt, that the
opportunity was afforded them to become famous throughout the country, and
provincial clubs started up here and there. Chess players cannot but
regard that paper as a very nursing mother for Caïssa, and certainly never
hear it mentioned but their thoughts revert to the veteran--George
Walker. I once heard that gentleman relate the following anecdote as a
proof of how little was known of chess, in England, previous to the year
1833.

Travelling towards the north somewhere about that period, he put up one
night at a hotel in Stratford-upon-Avon. Now any man with music or poetry
in his soul, would, under such circumstances, wander towards the home of
Shakspeare, or to his last resting-place; provided always that fear of
rheumatism, or influenza, did not render him regardful of the rain which
then fell "like cats and dogs." How to pass the evening was the question.
Only one other traveller in the coffee-room, and he as uncommunicative as
Englishmen proverbially are. Mr. Walker did not feel like going to bed at
seven o'clock in the evening, and the idea of throwing out "a feeler"
struck him as interesting. "Did Traveller play chess?" Traveller did.
"Would he have a game?" Yes, he would. The waiter is thereupon summoned,
and ordered to bring in a set of chessmen. Waiter, strongly suspicious
that Mr. Walker means skittles, finally awaked to consciousness, and, with
a smile of triumph, produces a backgammon board.

The very idea of an opponent obliterated all fear of the weather in Mr.
Walker's breast, and he sallied forth in quest of the desired pieces.
Toyshops, libraries, etc., were entered, but the proprietors scarcely
understood what was asked of them, and Mr. W. finally returned to the inn
to dispatch "Boots" to the solicitor, doctor, and neighboring gentry--but
all to no purpose. Thereupon mine host suggested a note to the parson, but
that individual having just rendered himself famous for all time by
cutting down Shakspeare's mulberry tree, Mr. Walker replied that such a
man could not possibly know anything of the game, and it would be useless
to send to him. So the two travellers were forced to console themselves
with the intricacies of draughts.

After the death of Philidor, the strongest players were Sarratt, De
Bourblanc, Lewis and Parkinson. Sarratt and Mr. Lewis may be looked upon
as chess professors. We all know the story of the former's playing with
the great Napoleon, and the struggle between pride and courtesy (very
silly courtesy, indeed!) finally overcome by Sarratt's drawing every game.
This could not have been a satisfactory result to the "Little Corporal,"
for he never seemed partial to leaving things _in statu quo ante bellum_.
Sarratt was a schoolmaster, Parkinson an architect, and Mr. Lewis
commenced life as a merchant's clerk, and eventually embarked in the
manufacture of piano fortes. This information has nothing whatever to do
with the reputation of the above gentlemen, as successors of Philidor, and
I only mention it because chess players, like other men, are not adverse
to hearing what does not concern them.

The continental blockade and long wars with Napoleon, isolated England
from the rest of the world, and completed the decay and fall of chess for
a time. But the game did not languish in France and Germany. About 1820,
the Holy Alliance (of Sovereigns against the people) began playing its
pranks: proscribed fugitives, martyrs to liberty--_soi disant_ and
otherwise--came over to England in shoals, and amongst them were to be
found thorough adepts in the mysteries of chess. These refugees rekindled
the fire in Britain. They brought with them new and unknown German and
Italian works, and made Englishmen acquainted with far more extended
information than could be found in Philidor's meagre work.

Before we enter on the new era of chess, I may add for the benefit of such
of my readers as are not "up" in its history, that Lewis was the pupil of
Sarratt, and McDonnel the pupil of Lewis. It is difficult, from the
paucity of existing _data_, to judge of the strength of former players as
compared with modern examples. Mr. Lewis had been accustomed at one time
to give McDonnel pawn and two; but, when these odds became too heavy, he
declined playing longer, and may be considered to have retired from the
arena. Mr. Walker thinks that, in their best play, Messrs. Sarratt and
Lewis were a pawn below Morphy, and he ranks the latter with Labourdonnais
and McDonnel, stating his belief that the two latter would have played up
to a much higher standard if provoked by defeat. For my own part, I think
it is indisputable that the reputation of these two players is, at this
day, entirely based on their eighty published games, and when Herr
Löwenthal's much looked-for collection of Morphy's contests is published,
we shall then be enabled to judge of the American's strength, as compared
with those celebrated masters.

The influx of foreigners into London was introductory to the establishment
of numerous chess circles in different coffee houses. Hundreds of "exiled
patriots," bearded Poles and Italians, congregated together to smoke and
play chess, and soon infused a general passion for the game amongst the
Londoners. The first room specially devoted to chess, of which we have any
account, was one opened by Mr. Gliddon, and this led to the establishment
of the London Chess Divan.

       *       *       *       *       *


THE LONDON CHESS DIVAN.

What chess player has not heard of the far-famed resort of the devotees of
Caïssa? The Café de la Régence may be the Mecca of chess, but the Divan is
indisputably its Medina. Chess Clubs have risen and fallen, and the
fortunes of the survivors have waxed or waned; but the Divan flourishes in
spring-tide glory, the _Forum Romanum_ for players of every clime and
strength. Now my readers must not suppose that I am about to attempt a
history of the "Divan in the Strand," as the Cockneys call it; for I
should then have to write the history of modern European chess. I merely
intend a sketch, from which they will learn with how much reverence that
classic spot is to be regarded.

Somewhere about the year 1820, a tobacconist, named Gliddon, opened a room
in the rear of his shop, King Street, Covent Garden, which he fitted up in
Oriental style, and supplied with papers, chess periodicals and
chess-boards, calling the establishment "Gliddon's Divan." Amongst his
patrons was a Mr. Bernhard Ries, who soon perceived that there was room in
London for a similar undertaking on a much larger scale. He accordingly
opened a grand chess saloon in the building now occupied by the Divan.
This was so far back as 1828. It was, at first, on the ground-floor, in
the room known as Simpson's Restaurant, but when Mr. Ries gave up the
establishment to his brother, the present proprietor, in 1836, that
gentleman transferred the Divan to the vast saloon up stairs. In 1838, Mr.
Ries (No. 2) found the Westminster Chess Club suffering from paralysis,
its sinews (of war) being grievously affected. He purchased the good-will
and furniture of the club, giving the members private rooms on the first
floor of his house for their exclusive use. The boards and men now in use
at the Divan were made expressly for the Westminster Club when first
established. The members in their new locale soon found that whilst some
twenty boards would be going in the public room, the game languished with
them; and in the course of two years the club broke up and became absorbed
in the Divan. This will invariably be the case when a private and
exclusive chess association holds its meetings contiguous to a public
resort devoted to the same game. During the past year, the Paris _Cercle
des Echecs_, which met in rooms over the Café de la Régence, found that
the influence of the arena down stairs was too great for them, and they
broke up their meetings, and are now to be found _en masse_ in the public
café.

In 1842 Mr. Ries invited Labourdonnais to come over from Paris, and play
exclusively at the Divan, which offer that great master accepted. But his
constitution was already shattered, and the malady which eventually
carried him off interfered with his devoting much time to chess, and no
matches of importance were played by him during the period. It was next
door to the Divan, at No. 6 Beaufort Buildings, in rooms taken for him by
Mr. Ries, that Labourdonnais finally succumbed to that terrible antagonist
who, whatever the opening may be, brings the game of life to one
inevitable ending--death!

Who, known to fame in chess during the past quarter of a century, has not
assisted in making the Divan classic ground? Of bygone palladins we might
instance Popard, Fraser, Zenn, Daniels, Alexander, Williams, Perigal, and
a host of others, never for a moment forgetting Labourdonnais and
Kieseritzky. The veterans Lewis and Walker made it a place of constant
resort before they withdrew from the chess arena. In the Divan, Staunton
rose from a Knight-player to a first rate. St. Arnaud, Anderssen,
Harrwitz, Hörwitz, Kling,--in fact all the great living celebrities--make
it their house of call when in London, whilst the brilliant _corps
d'élite_ composing the phalanx of English players--Löwenthal, Boden,
Barnes, Bird, Lowe, Falkbeer, Wormald, Campbell, Zytogorsky, Brien, &c.,
&c., may frequently be found there, ready to meet all antagonists. When
Mr. Buckle casts a "longing, lingering look behind" at his first love, he
offers homage to Caïssa at the Divan. But we must stop, or we shall fain
run through the whole list of living players.

In the room are busts of Lewis, Philidor, Labourdonnais, and other _vieux
de la vielle_, and the library is replete with all the chief works on
chess. From noon to midnight, players of every shade of strength are to be
met with;--amateurs who learned the moves last week; professors who
analyze openings, adepts inventing new defences, and editors who prove
satisfactorily that the winner ought to have lost and the vanquished to
have gained. [_Sal[=a]m_ to the Divan! May it live a thousand years!]

       *       *       *       *       *

The Divan has certainly done much to spread a liking for the game amongst
the masses; but, at the same time, it has somewhat interfered with the
formation of a flourishing West End Chess Club. There is no city in the
world in which so much chess is played as London, and the British
metropolis should certainly show, at least, one club numbering from 500 to
1,000 members. Club life is an institution peculiar to Englishmen;
divans, even when so well managed as Ries's, partake rather of the Gallic
element, being of the _genus_ café. Your aristocratic Briton frequents not
the public saloon, preferring the _otium cum dignitate_ of the private
club. I am aware that chess in England is not fostered by the upper ranks
of society: its amateurs are to be found mainly in the middle classes.
Shopmen, clerks, professors of the arts, literary men, &c., form its rank
and file. The majority of these, I speak of them as Englishmen, object to
a place of public resort from various reasons. Smoking displeases some,
and smoking is part and parcel of a divan. The Automaton itself could not
get on without its _tchibouk_. All the advantages and none of the
drawbacks of a public hall, are to be obtained at a club; especially when,
as at the St. George's, one room is set apart for smoking. Surely the late
impulse given to chess by Paul Morphy's European feats, will increase the
members of these chess associations, which are incontestably the best
schools for progress in the game.

About the year 1824, three or four young gentlemen who had recently
learned chess, or rather the mechanical part of it, and had been playing a
good deal together, made vain inquiries as to the existence of a Chess
Club at the West End of London, being desirous of showing off their
abilities to new advantage. The foremost of these ambitious juveniles was
Mr. George Walker, the eminent Chess writer, and an author, too, whose
never failing _bonhommie_ is worthy of Lafontaine. Finding that "westward
the star of empire" and of chess had not, as yet, begun to "take its way,"
they resolved to have a Club of their own. Philidor's Club could not be
said to exist; the flame was flickering in some obscure corner, and the
last member was preparing to leave. But the sacred fire was not to die
out:--George Walker and his fellow youngsters built an altar for it at the
Percy Coffee-House in Rathbone Place, Oxford Street, and blew the flame
into a perfect blaze. Percy's Coffee-House was then a first-rate hotel:
Belgravia, Brompton, Pimlico, were corn-fields and market-gardens, and the
aristocracy had not emigrated from the neighborhood of Oxford Street. The
denizens of that ilk might be supposed to find some leisure for the
enjoyment of such a pastime as chess, and Walker and Co. soon enlisted
upwards of a score of recruits. Night after night the members played what
they in their innocence called chess, finishing the Monday evening with a
supper, after which harmony and "the flowing bowl" prevailed. Things went
on swimmingly in this Mutual Admiration Society, until one of the members,
Mr. Perrier, of the War Office, upset the _status quo_ by bringing into
their midst Mr. Murphy, the celebrated ivory miniature painter, and father
of Mrs. Jamieson, the authoress. Dire was the result; Mr. Murphy proved a
very Trojan horse in this West End Ilium: for, as Mr. Walker says, "he
entirely dispelled the illusion of the 'bold Percies' that they had been
playing chess." He gave them one and all a Knight, essayed the Gambit on
every occasion, and not one of the young gentlemen could make a stand
against him.

As though not sufficiently humiliated, Mr. Murphy introduced Mr. Lewis to
them, and the new comer completed their bewilderment by giving them the
Rook and sweeping them clean off the board. But with such a master, the
Percies, by dint of diligent study and practice, rapidly improved, and it
was suggested to Mr. Lewis that he should open a private club at his own
house. After a short delay this was accomplished, and nearly all the
members joined Mr. Lewis, when he opened subscription rooms in St.
Martin's Lane--classic ground surely, for a former Chess Club had lived
and died at Slaughter's Coffee-House, hard by.

Mr. Lewis collected quite a number of players around him, and was in fair
way to find his enterprise profitable; but the most prominent members
demurred to his not playing with them so much as they desired, more
especially as Mr. Lewis did not appear to regard the institution as a Free
School for the inculcation of Chess. The best of the young amateurs were
Messrs. Walker, Brand, Mercier and McDonnell; the last, the best of the
lot. McDonnell received from Mr. Lewis the odds of Pawn and Two Moves, but
when he had fairly surmounted that advantage and could win every game, his
antagonist declined playing on even terms, much to McDonnell's
disappointment. This, however, appears to be the usual course with leading
chess players,--Deschappelle's conduct in regard to Labourdonnais being a
notable example of the fact. There are peculiar idiosyncrasies in chess
human nature, as, for instance, the remarkable reserve and
"_don't-come-nigh-me_" _feeling_ with which leading amateurs treat each
other. Go into any public or private chess association, and you will find
that the superior craft steer clear of each other as a general thing;
reserving their antagonism for matches few and far between.

The Club subsequently removed to the bottom of St. Martin's Lane, and
shortly broke up, McDonnell and others returning to the London Club,
whence they had migrated. A futile attempt was afterwards made to
establish a grand aristocratic silk and satin club in Waterloo Place, the
door of admission to which could only be opened with a golden key of ten
guineas. Here lots of every thing could be found except chess, and no
wonder, for the game does not find supporters, to any extent, among the
rich, depending mainly upon individuals to whom ten guineas are a
consideration. The club expired in twelve months. Caïssa thus lost her
last foothold at the West End, and Mr. Lewis henceforth virtually
abandoned the practice of chess.

The question has frequently been asked, whether and how Mr. Lewis played
Labourdonnais? They played together on three different occasions, _in all
seven games_, of which Labourdonnais won five and lost two. The first time
they met was at the house of Mr. Domitt, Hon. Sec. of the London Club, and
two Allgaier Gambits were played, each winning one. As they had just done
their duty to a very good dinner, and society was then divided into two,
three, and four bottle men, Labourdonnais remarked, "The victory is not
likely to be gained by the better player, but by him who carries his wine
best." This reminds me of a _bon mot_ of Mr. Boden. Somebody remarked in
his presence that two amateurs (whose names to mention "decency forbids")
were both drunk, though engaged in a match game: he replied--"Then the
best player will win."

After the conclusion of the two games, Messrs. Mercier, Bonfil and Domit,
particular friends of the English player, challenged Labourdonnais to play
Mr. Lewis a match of twenty-five games at £5 a game. This was rather too
bad, considering that Labourdonnais, to use his own words, was "without a
friend or a shilling in a foreign country;" but he laughed the challenge
away as a joke in his own witty manner, by saying that "in such case he
must be the best player who could offer to play for the highest stake," a
reply which so pleased a gentleman present, Mr. Brand, that he cried out,
"Labourdonnais shall play Lewis a match of 25 games at £10 a game, and I
will find his stakes." It is stated that Mr. Brand evinced considerable
ill-feeling towards Mr. Lewis, at the time, in consequence of the latter's
preferring a move recommended by Mr. Mercier in the match then pending
between the London and Edinburgh clubs, to one proposed by himself, and
perhaps this was the reason for his offering to back the Frenchman
against his own countryman. But Mr. Lewis's friends did not accept the
challenge, and the two champions confined their contests to five off-hand
games, which were played at the residences of Messrs. Bonfil and Mercier,
Lewis winning one and Labourdonnais four, so that the final result was:--

    Labourdonnais, 5--Lewis, 2--Drawn, 0.

The above occurrences took place on the occasion of Labourdonnais' first
visit to London, many years before his famous encounters with McDonnell.

About the year 1830, a gentleman of great parts and education, named
Huttmann, finding his share of this world's loaves and fishes not
precisely what he could wish, opened a coffee house in Covent Garden. His
patrons belonged to what society calls the "upper classes," for his prices
were high and his refreshments first-rate; two considerable attractions to
men of means. Amongst the frequenters of the rooms were Mr. Henry Russell,
the since celebrated singer; Captain Medwin (Byron's medium), and Mr.
Mackay, now Dr. Charles Mackay, the poet. Doctor Mackay was in New York
during the chess tournament, and visited the rooms on that occasion, but
we were then unaware of his early acquaintance with the game.

At Huttman's Coffee House, the habitués were gentlemen in quest of
quietness; men of calm, reflective turn, given to chit-chat in nooks and
corners; smoking a genuine "Havana" over a cup of unquestionable "Mocha,"
and reading that everlasting refuge for an Englishman, "_The Times_." Just
the atmosphere for a chess-board, and two or three were accordingly
introduced. Now you can never get chess-boards into any establishment,
without the fact becoming immediately known amongst amateurs. Mr. George
Walker soon got wind of the arrangement, and forthwith reconnoitred the
lines. The result of his observations was that he suggested the formation
of a chess club in the first floor rooms, and to this Mr. Huttmann
assented. Mr. Walker forthwith began drumming about for recruits; electing
himself secretary, _pro tem._, he drew up a set of rules, and got out
printed circulars, and it was not his fault if any person with whom he
claimed even bowing acquaintance, escaped from the meshes of the proposed
club. Within a few days he had canvassed all his earliest chess friends,
and had rallied round the standard of Caïssa between twenty and thirty
defenders. It was resolved to style the association


THE WESTMINSTER CLUB,

and Captain Medwin was elected the first president.

We are upon classic ground. Who does not remember the feats performed
within the walls of this home of the glorious departed? Who shall forget
the oft-told wonders of that golden age of chess? Any thing related of the
Westminster Club is swallowed with willing faith by gaping acolytes.
Those were glorious days, indeed, the Homeric age of zatrikiological
worthies! Amongst the early supporters of the Club were the Rev. Mr.
D'Arblay, (son of Madame D'Arblay,) Mr. Skelton, (so well known about town
as "Dandy Skelton,") Mr. Nixon, organist of the Bavarian Catholic Church,
in Warwick Street, Duncan Forbes, Professor of Oriental languages at
University College, and many other celebrated literary characters. The
proprietor, Mr. Huttman, followed the enterprise with spirit. Every cigar
he sold in the coffee-room was wrapt in a printed problem; and, in
addition, he published a periodical penny miscellany on chess. Such
extraordinary exertions quickly bore fruit, and, in a short time the Club
rose to something like fifty members. The room in which the meetings were
held became, in consequence, so hot, that it was deservedly styled "the
oven."

Emboldened by success, Mr. Huttman began to look about for new and more
commodious quarters; these he eventually found on the opposite side of the
street. Certain gamblers had there taken a house, and furnished the
principal apartments in sumptuous style, for the sole purpose of decoying
thither a young foreign nobleman, who, in one night, is said to have lost
there upwards of £30,000. The house having served their diabolical ends,
was of no further use to them, and Mr. Huttman rented it. Here the
Westminster Club was enshrined. Amongst the chief supporters were Mr.
George Walker, Hon. Sec.; Mr. B. Smith, M. P.; Albany Fonblanque, Esq., of
_The Examiner_; Messrs. Perigal, Slous, Popert, McDonnel, and many others
from the London Club. In 1833, Labourdonnais and McDonnel played their
different matches at these splendid rooms.

By the continued exertions of Mr. George Walker, the number of members was
increased to three hundred. What a glorious muster-roll! Why should the
"old days" not live again at the West End? Surely the ranks of chess
players are not thinned, nor is their strength diminished. Our Löwenthals,
Bodens, Birds, Stauntons, Barneses, Buckles, Wormalds, Falkbeers, Briens,
Zytogoroskys, Lowes, Hannahs, etc., etc., etc., are worthy descendants of
West End men of the olden time, without even enlisting the support of such
city magnates as the Mongredieus, Slouses, Medleys, etc., of the ancient
and virile London Club. Many members of the Westminster still make love to
the nymph Caïssa; such historical names as Slous and Walker for instance.
But, in addition to the above-mentioned general officers, we now possess a
constantly-increasing rank and file, recruited from the chess-playing
militia of schools and private families. Chess is assuming vast
proportions in England and America: scarcely a weekly paper of any
circulation but gives a column to the game; and certainly no newspaper
editor would do so if he did not find it pay. At the West End of London,
there now exist two clubs of importance, the old St. George's and the new
St. James's; the Philidorean Rooms in Rathbone Place partaking rather of
the divan character. Neither of these clubs require proficiency in the
game as a passport for membership; and a gentleman receiving the Queen
would be just as eligible as the amateur giving it. Surely the advantages
offered for increasing one's strength in this intellectual struggle of
mind against mind, should be an inducement for young players to enroll
themselves in one or the other of these two associations.

When the Westminster had grown up into a goodly body of three hundred
members, Mr. George Walker began to find that the duties of secretary were
interfering seriously with his other pursuits, and he therefore resigned
the office, and was succeeded by Mr. William Greenwood Walker, to whom the
chess world is so much indebted for taking down the games of McDonnel. The
Club had arrived at its Augustine era, and, in 1838, its fortunes began to
wane; the proprietor getting into pecuniary difficulties. Mr. Huttman
could not let well alone. He introduced a daily dinner, on plans so
profoundly calculated, that the more persons who dined the more he lost.
He got the Club, also, into bad odor, by allowing chess to be played there
on Sundays. Musical soirées and other nonsense followed; the main object
of the establishment thus became ignored, and, instead of new members
joining, the old ones fell off one by one, and the princely mansion in
Bedford street was shortly to let. Mr. Huttman's pecuniary difficulties
perilled the very existence of the Club, notwithstanding that the members
handed over to him the reserve fund, amounting to a few hundred pounds. No
Club can be said to be in safety without such a fund upon which to fall
back in case of emergency, as for instance, retirement of members. Members
of chess clubs will retire--prominent ones even--a very frequent cause
being marriage; the backsliders, however, often come back eventually.

The Westminster Club being now without house or home, looked about for
some benevolent individual who would "take them in and do for them." Such
an one they found in Mr. Ries, proprietor of the Divan in the Strand, who
offered them private rooms in his establishment; thither the _débris_ of
the old Westminster forthwith removed. Each member was provided with a
latch-key, with which to let himself in at the private door. Here it was
that Mr. Staunton appeared for the first time in chess-circles, although
he was never a member of the Westminster Club. In its new quarters the
association drew out an existence of twelve months, giving up the ghost in
1840.

About this time, the veteran writer and encyclopædist, Alexandre, made a
lamentable _fiasco_ at his Café de l'Echiquiér in Paris; an establishment
which he vainly hoped would entice away the _habitués_ of the Cafés de la
Régence et de Procope. Coming over to London, he made the acquaintance of
Mr. Staunton, and the two players struck hands together, and resolved to
open a chess establishment as a partnership concern. Alexandre put in his
little all--the change out of his Paris capital--and he and his coadjutor
opened rooms at the Waterloo Chambers. A very good locality, perhaps too
good, for rents in that neighborhood are rather high. Some twenty or
thirty old players rallied round them, but the attempt was only of short
duration. The two _camarades_ took to squabbling and vilifying each other;
and, within a year, the Club was formally dissolved at the request of the
members.

All connection now being severed between the members and Messrs. Alexandre
and Staunton, the amateurs convened a private meeting for the purpose of
examining their prospects and taking steps for reorganization. Mr. George
Walker advertised for a large room, and was answered by Mr. Beattie,
proprietor of Beattie's Hotel, George street, Hanover square. Here, once
again, the remains of the "old guard" planted their standard, and in
special, solemn convocation, under a full sense of their responsibility,
and with all due solemnity, they christened their Club


THE ST. GEORGE'S,

the name being suggested, in the first place, by the baptismal appellative
of their virtual founder and Hon. Sec., Mr. George Walker; and, secondly,
because the meeting was in George street, in the parish of St. George's.
The Club was exceedingly prosperous during the first year of its
existence, much being due to the fostering care of Mr. B. Smith, M. P.
for Norwich, who was assiduous in his attendance, and a capital
"whipper-in" of members. The room was large, well proportioned, and well
ventilated, cooking first-rate, wines unexceptionable. Wine, by the by,
makes your game brilliant, if not sound. Dull, unimaginative Zsen would
have been betrayed into an attempt at brilliance and dash, with a couple
of bottles of "old crusted" under his belt. But it began to appear as
though a West End Club could be nought but an "annual." Mr. Beattie failed
in business, and the St. George's were turned out of doors, wanderers for
a season, without prospect of refuge. And the devotees of Caïssa were on
the town for some weeks, two or three of the leading and most active
assiduously on the watch to find a fresh location, but almost in blank
despair as to the result.

Mr. B. Smith was a large shareholder in the Polytechnic Institution,
Regent street. The managing committee of that estimable establishment
were, about this time, endeavoring to form reading-rooms by subscription,
in the first floor of their building, facing Cavendish square. It was
suggested to the committee that chess and reading might be combined; that
one large room facing the square should be set apart for reading
exclusively, and two smaller ones be devoted to chess. A meeting was
forthwith convened, Mr. Nurse representing the proprietors of the
Institution, the chess players present being Mr. B. Smith, Mr. Richard
Penn, and the indefatigable and indomitable George Walker. These three
gentlemen guaranteed that one hundred members, paying an annual
subscription of three guineas each, should be enrolled in the Chess Club
within twelve months; and, once again, the red cross of the St. George's
was floating bravely in the air. Forthwith commenced the hunting up of old
members of the Westminster and other West End Clubs: touching and tender
circulars were issued by Mr. Walker, adjuring the straggling devotees of
Caïssa, by all the recollections of their first and early loves, by all
their hopes of a glorious hereafter, to rush once more to the rescue.
Could such pathetic appeals fall unheeded upon the chess-lover's ear? No.
A hundred and fifty members reiterated "no" to the accompaniment of their
one hundred and fifty three-guinea subscriptions. "Royal Blue-Book"
notabilities enrolled themselves; as, for instance, the present Lord
Ravensworth, Dr. Murray, Lord Bishop of Rochester, the Honorable Charles
Murray, Mr. Brooke Greville, Mr. Albany Fonblanque, the Messrs. Hampton,
Lord Clarence Paget, and a host of other fashionables. So the St. George's
flourished for years, and it began to appear that a Chess Club at the West
End could, under proper management, become a permanent institution.

It was in this _locale_ that Mr. Staunton played his first match with
Saint Amant, and, losing it, took his revenge by winning in his turn at
Paris. For some reason or other, the French amateur displayed
unaccountable nervousness during the progress of the match in his own
capital. The Baronne de L----, who is well known in Parisian _salons_ as
an excellent player and firm supporter of the game, assured me but lately
that she had no easy task in instilling courage into her countryman,
startled as he was by Mr. Staunton's winning game after game from him.
Warming up under the merry rebukes of his fair inspirer, Saint Amant began
to turn the tables upon his antagonist, and it seemed as if he would
anticipate the result of the contest between Löwenthal and Harrwitz. Mr.
Staunton, however, eventually won, and the stakes were deposited for the
third and deciding match, but Mr. S. was taken ill, and it was never
played. It is unfortunate for Mr. Staunton's reputation that the plea of
bad health was so frequently used by him when opponents appeared, more
especially as he is the first to ridicule such an excuse when coming from
others. And it is more than ever unfortunate in this instance, because the
French players declared that, judging from the later games of the match in
Paris, it was obvious that Mr. Staunton would have succumbed to their
champion if the third and deciding heat had not been prevented by the
Englishman's indisposition. And many of them even affirm that Mr. S. felt
this and acted in consequence.

It may be added that the St. George's Chess Club had been installed at the
Polytechnic Institution some years before Mr. Staunton joined them, as an
honorary member, in compliment to his rising reputation. Mr. Staunton was
laid under lasting obligations to Mr. George Walker, by the latter's
bringing him from obscurity into public notice, not merely by introducing
him to the London chess world, but, in addition, by flattering notices of
him in his works. He may, in fact, be considered the pupil of Mr. Walker,
and the courtesy with which he has always treated his benefactor makes one
think of Labourdonnais's delicacy towards his old master Deschappelles.

It would seem as though chess-players, like other men, "get weary in
well-doing," and constantly stand in need of fresh stimulus. Nothing could
have been more suitable or comfortable than the accommodations of the St.
George's at the Polytechnic, and yet they got to yearning after they
scarcely knew what. The cry was raised that members ought to be able to
dine at their Club, and they forthwith migrated _en masse_ to apartments
in Crockford's Club, transmogrified into an eating-house on a splendid
scale, and styled "The Wellington." Here they dwindled away, and the St.
George's would have finally disappeared from existence had it not been for
the kindness of Mr. Thomas Hampton, who offered them apartments at New
Palace Club Chambers, in King street, St. James's. Under his fostering
care, and the patriotic manner in which he is continually arranging
matches and organizing tournaments amongst the members, the St. George's
has largely increased its muster-roll of amateurs, and bids fair to enjoy
more halcyon days than ever. In these rooms Paul Morphy played part of his
match with Herr Löwenthal, and vanquished the well-known amateur "Alter,"
in a contest at Pawn and Move. And in dismissing this now prosperous West
End Club, I must not forget to mention, for the benefit of those of my
readers who are ignorant of the fact, that it was the St. George's which
initiated and successfully carried out the Grand International Tournament
of 1851, in which the Teutonic element made itself so conspicuous.

Experience seems to teach us that no West End Club can be permanently
prosperous, without a recognized professor of the game being constantly,
or frequently, in attendance; one whose object is the interest, not of
himself, but of chess, willing and ready to play with all comers for the
benefit of all. In such a Club as the London, where the members are
business men, there is no hollow principle of _caste_; social democracy
exists, and the players play, talk, laugh, and eat together on a perfect
equality, be they simple clerks or merchant princes. At the Court End of
the town manners are reserved; and such a thing may happen as two members
of the same Club waiting several years, before an introduction justifies
them in speaking to each other. A professor would bring all these stupid
_convenances de la société_ to a speedy end, and, by his recognized
position in the Club, arrange contests between members of equal force, and
thus further the objects for which they are associated.


THE LONDON CHESS CLUB.

In the very heart of the City of London, under the shadows of the Bank and
Royal Exchange, and but a step from Lombard street, the London Chess Club
holds its daily sittings. Who would expect to find such an association in
such a place? Is the quiet of the chess arena consonant with the hum of
busy multitudes, hurrying to and fro in never-failing ardor after the
yellow god? Are stocks and scrip and dividends allied to gambits and
mates? Shall Lloyd's Capel Court and the Corn Exchange furnish supporters
of Caïssa? Come along with me to Cornhill. Stop! This is Purssell's
restaurant. We'll walk up stairs. This room on the first floor is devoted
to billiards. Above it meets the Cosmopolitan Club, and on the third
floor--out of reach of the noise below--is the famous old "London," of
which every player of note during the past fifty years has either been a
member or visitor.

It is between three and four o'clock in the afternoon, and the rooms of
the Club present the usual appearance at that hour. In the right-hand
corner we perceive the President, Mr. Mongredieu, engaged in dire conflict
with Mr. Maude, to whom he has offered the advantage of Pawn and Move.
Readers of the _Chess Players' Chronicle_, of the _Palamède_, and _La
Régence_, have known Mr. Mongredieu for long years past, as an amateur of
first-rate force, who gets himself invariably into difficulties at the
commencement of a game, by his unvanquishable contempt for book openings,
but who comes out all right at last, by his masterly tactics in the middle
of the contest. Possessed of a fund of native English humor, and a
finished scholar withal, he keeps up a running fire of wit and anecdote
throughout the game, in which the lookers-on join. By his side is Mr.
George Medley, the Secretary of the Club, whose name is also a "household
word" to amateurs; he and Mr. Mongredieu ranking as the strongest players
of the association. The latter gentleman has run in for an hour's play
from the Corn Exchange, being in fact one of those men who, before the
knowledge of Political Economy had become diffused amongst the masses,
were styled "the rogues in grain." Mr. Medley has just arrived from the
Stock Exchange, where, after "Bearing" or "Bulling" Mr. Slous, George
Walker, and Mr. Waite during the morning, he meets them at the Chess Club
towards three o'clock, and they become as much absorbed in the mysteries
of the game as though it were the business of their lives.

If you wish to see what influence chess can have upon individuals, just
analyze the London Club. The members are not "men of straw," but sound,
substantial citizens, with balances at their bankers heavy enough to buy
up half-a-dozen lords. Does a Rothschild or a Baring negotiate a loan?
Here you will find men to take up the greater part, if not the whole of
it. Is capital for a railroad wanted? You need not wander much further.
Look around you, and you will recognize many of the foremost of Great
Britain's merchant princes; men pushing England's commerce into every bay
and inlet of old ocean, carrying the British flag across seas and lakes,
and penetrating continents; causing British cannon to thunder at the gates
of Pekin, and opening Japan to the commerce of the world. These are the
children of the men who first planted foot in Hindostan, descendants of
those who established England's colonies. These are the men, the very men,
who repealed the Corn Laws in 1846, established the principle of Free
Trade, and told a proud, titled aristocracy--"We, the middle class, the
merchants, bankers, and manufacturers of Great Britain, are the source of
all power in England, as we are the source of her greatness."

An admirable demonstration of these ideas is to be found in the London
Chess Club. This association has flourished with never-failing vigor since
its establishment in 1807, whilst Clubs have risen, waned, and died at the
fashionable end of the town. City men are too patriotic and too proud to
allow their Club to languish; and, depend upon it, whilst the old London
counts a single member, that one last man will, from his own purse, find
funds to keep it alive, inscribe on his colors "_Lateat scintillula
forsan_," and shout with stentorian lungs for recruits.

The London Chess Club organized on the 6th of April, 1807, Mr. Augustus
Hankey being first President, and the committee numbering among its
members Sir Astley Cooper, the celebrated surgeon, Sir Isaac Lyon
Goldsmid, and others of almost equal eminence. The meetings took place at
Tom's Coffee House, in Cornhill. Such men as Sarratt, Lewis, Walker,
McDonnel, Cochrane, Popert, Perigal, Staunton, Fraser, etc., have either
been members of the Club or frequenters of it. A good story is told of
Perigal, who, for a long period, officiated as the Honorary Secretary. At
the time Deschappelles made his ridiculous challenge to play any English
amateur a match at Pawn and Two moves, Mr. Perigal was sent out to Paris
to arrange preliminaries with the gasconading Frenchman. Deschappelles
soon showed how little he was in earnest, and the ambassador returned
without having effected any thing. On being questioned at the "London" as
to the appearance, manner, etc., of the French champion, he said, with
much gravity--"Mr. Deschappelles is the greatest chess-player in France;
Mr. Deschappelles is the greatest whist-player in France; Mr.
Deschappelles is the greatest billiard-player in France; Mr. Deschappelles
is the greatest pumpkin-grower in France, and Mr. Deschappelles is the
greatest liar in France."

A match by correspondence was commenced in 1824, between the London and
Edinburgh Chess Clubs, and was won by the latter. Two games were commenced
simultaneously, the moves being forwarded every night through the
post-office. On one occasion the Londoners sent off three moves at once,
half-an-hour in advance of their usual time; and after the letter was
posted, it was discovered that the last move was founded on a
miscalculation, and might lose the game. Application was immediately made
at the office for the letter to be returned, but such a thing was
impossible without an order from the Secretary of State. A second letter
was thereupon despatched to Edinburgh, retracting the move in question,
but the _cannie_ sons of Auld Reekie held them to their first showing, and
the London Club lost the game in consequence. Shortly afterwards, the
Edinburgh Club made a similar blunder, but they, somehow or other, induced
their postmaster to produce the letter, and they corrected the move on the
outside. Of course the Londoners wouldn't stand that.

In the spring of 1846, Staunton played and won his match with Harrwitz at
the rooms of the Club, and, in the summer of the same year, he there also
vanquished Harrwitz, in a contest of seven even, seven pawn and move, and
seven pawn and two games. In the latter part of that year, and in the same
locality, Harrwitz and Hörwitz played a match, the former scoring eight
games to his opponent's seven; and, meeting again subsequently, a similar
result was effected. In 1847, the Club entered on a match by
correspondence with the Amsterdam _Cercle des Echecs_, the latter having
sent a challenge of £50 to any London club. One game lasted five years,
and was won by the Englishmen, and a second game was drawn. The Londoners
scored the third, and this game is considered to be one of the finest and
most brilliant contests by correspondence on record. The players selected
by the Club to represent them in this celebrated match were Messrs.
Mongredieu, Slous, Medley, and Greenaway--a glorious quartet, who are now
stronger than ever.

The London Chess Club did not take part in the Tournament of 1851, because
the St. George's, under the auspices of Mr. Staunton, wished to assume a
position derogatory to their claims; nor was it proper that the oldest and
most influential Club in the United Kingdom should play second-fiddle to a
much younger association. But they gave a cup of the value of one hundred
guineas to be played for by the foreign amateurs then in London, and
Anderssen, Szabs, Zsen, Kling, and Harrwitz were amongst the contestants.
The cup was won by Herr Anderssen.

In 1852, '53, Harrwitz and Williams played a match at the London Club, the
first-named player winning a large majority of the games. And, finally, on
Paul Morphy's being challenged last year by Herr Löwenthal, this Club,
ever foremost in the interests of chess, doubled the latter's stakes, and
offered the combatants battle-ground for half the games in their saloons.
Nowhere has Paul Morphy met with a heartier English welcome than from the
veterans of this flourishing association.

Amongst the strongest amateurs now figuring on the muster-roll of the
London Chess Club are those "ancients," Messrs. Slous and George Walker,
and Messrs. Mongredieu, Medley, Maude, Greenaway, and Brien. "May their
shadows never grow less!"


THE PHILIDOREAN ROOMS.

A chess establishment has lately been opened, under the above title, in
Rathbone place, Oxford street, partaking of the peculiar character of the
Divan, in the Strand. The admission, as in the latter, is either by
subscription, or by entrance fee of sixpence, which includes a cup of
coffee or cigar.

As the Philidorean is too youthful an undertaking to possess a history, I
must confine myself to mentioning some of the principal frequenters, and,
considering the size of the rooms and its age, the establishment may well
be proud of its supporters. The well-known Austrian amateur, Herr
Falkbeer, may be found there daily, with such proficients as Brien,
Zytogorsky, Wormald, Kenny, Healey, and the rising star, Campbell,
together with many others, scarcely less known to fame. As the Philidorean
is centrally situated, in the midst of a very populous and influential
neighborhood, and too far from any similar place of resort, it will
probably hold its own, and become one of the great temples of Caïssa.




CHAPTER V.

MORPHY IN ENGLAND.


It is easy to understand that when a man, and especially a young man,
feels his strength in any department of thought or action, he will be
desirous of putting his abilities to the severest test, so as to take that
rank to which he is entitled. Paul Morphy perceiving that it was a
hopeless task endeavoring to induce the chess magnates of the Old World to
visit America, resolved to cross the Atlantic himself, and it would be
difficult to imagine a more chivalric act in one so young than thus
embarking on a voyage of many thousand miles, for the sake of finding new
antagonists. The journeyings of Il Puttino from Italy into Spain to battle
with Ruy Lopez--the travels of the admirable Crichton through different
countries of Europe, are mediocre in comparison with this.

But an obstacle stood in the way of the proposed voyage. Paul Morphy was
not yet of age, and it would be necessary to first obtain the consent of
his family. This was difficult, for, in addition to other reasons,
objections were made to our hero's entering on so public a career,
interfering, too, as it would for a time, with his legal pursuits. A
committee was appointed by the Chess Club to wait upon Mr. Morphy's family
to request their consent to the much-desired voyage, and this was
ultimately granted. Strong hopes were entertained in England that the
American champion would assist at the meeting of the British Chess
Association in Birmingham, and, for that purpose, the committee had
offered to place at his disposal a certain sum to cover his expenses. This
was not accepted, Mr. Morphy little wishing to travel as a professional
chess-player. At the commencement of the month of June, the following
announcement appeared in the _Illustrated London News_:

     ANNUAL MEETING OF THE CHESS ASSOCIATION.

     It was noticed in our columns last week that this event, the
     Chess-players' Derby day, was fixed to commence on the 22d of
     June. The arrangements of the local committee are, of course,
     not yet complete, but it is whispered that they have succeeded
     in insuring the presence of the American chess phenomenon, Paul
     Morphy, an attraction, of itself, sufficient to secure the
     largest attendance which has been known for years.

The date for the assembling of the Association was ultimately postponed
until the latter part of August, it being feared, with reason, that the
sitting of Parliament would interfere with the attendance of many who
would otherwise be present. The committee wrote to inform Mr. Morphy of
this postponement, and again urging him to visit Europe, but he was
already _en route_ before the latter reached New Orleans.

I was both surprised and gratified when I read the announcement of Paul
Morphy's arrival in the _Illustrated London News_. Now, thought I, these
men who do not believe in an American chess-master, will be convinced.
We'll see if Morphy's games are merely "pretty," and "will not bear the
test of analysis;" and whether "he'll find plenty of matches." I wended my
way to the St. George's, feeling confident that I should find Morphy
there, and, after waiting a short time, I had the pleasure of welcoming
him to England. But, having arisen up from a sick bed to travel, joined to
the fatigues of a first voyage across the Atlantic, he did not appear in
as good fighting trim as when I had last seen him in New York.

On Mr. Staunton's arrival, Paul Morphy asked him if he had any objection
to play an off-hand game. Now it is Morphy's almost invariable custom to
wait to be asked; the solitary exceptions to this rule (to my knowledge)
being in the cases of Messrs. Staunton and Harrwitz. Mr. Staunton declined
the offer on the ground of an engagement preventing, and, notwithstanding
that they met frequently at the St. George's, he would never consent to a
contest of the most friendly description. Doubtless he was desirous of
first observing Morphy's capabilities against other players. The
well-known amateur, "Alter," whose games frequently grace the columns of
Mr. Staunton's paper, offered himself as a sacrifice. "Alter," however,
was not the first to measure skill with the young American, the Secretary
of the St. George's, Mr. Hampton, having already played two games with
him, on a previous occasion.

Morphy and "Alter" ultimately effected a score of "Alter" 1, and Morphy 4.
His next antagonist was Mr. Barnes, and the result of their play was, at
first, most surprising. During several successive days they scored
alternate games, and the London chess world consequently measured Morphy's
powers by this antagonist. Ultimately the former recovered from the
effects of his voyage, and the proportion was established of 19 to 7, the
last ten or twelve games being scored by Morphy almost without a break.

The first challenge which the young American received in London was from
Herr Löwenthal. Morphy says that no one can mention this gentleman's name,
without announcing the fact that he was one of the celebrated triumvirate
in the match between Pesth and Paris. Herr Löwenthal and the 19th century
came arm and arm into the world together, so that he has been contemporary
with many who have gone to another sphere. He was led into chess from
sheer jealousy, not of woman, but of a man. At a _café_ in Pesth, much
frequented by amateurs of the game,--in fact the Magyar Café de la
Régence,--he noticed that a crowd invariably surrounded a certain table
after 4 o'clock in the afternoon; and, on further inquiry, he learned that
the best chess-player in Hungary took upon himself daily to astonish the
natives there. That player was Zsen. Zsen was a clerk in the office of
Archives at Pesth, and, when the business of the day was over, he repaired
to the above-mentioned spot to play chess for a nominal stake, which never
exceeded a _zwanziger_ (sevenpence English). Another peculiarity of his
was, that, no matter what the strength of his opponent might be--queen,
rook, knight, or pawn player--he never would give any odds. His game was
dull, analytical, and sound to a tiresome extent, his only object being to
get through the _opening_ and _middle_, and then winning became a
certainty; for all his strength came out in the _endings_, and a very good
place, too, for it to appear in. Zsen went to Paris in 1831, and played
some games with Labourdonnais at the odds of Pawn and Move, winning the
majority. He then told the great Frenchman that he did not like playing
for stakes as a general thing, but that he would propose to him a match of
twenty-one even games for 200 francs; but Labourdonnais declined. And who
will say he was wrong? for what pleasure could there be in sitting down
day after day before the dullest player in Christendom, for the
eventuality of 200 francs? Zsen was so frightfully slow, even in ordinary
games, that he would have worn out 200 francs' worth of his opponent's
pantaloons before the match was half through. He was an exceedingly
nervous man, and this quality particularly evinced itself during the
Tournament of '51, to the eminent delight of his London friends. But he
was a good-hearted, amiable man, never losing his temper, and ever ready
to declare that he hadn't won the game, but his opponent had lost it.

We left Zsen over a move at the Pesth café. Herr Löwenthal observing what
interest seemed to be taken in chess, thought he should like to try his
hand at it, and forthwith pored over such works on the game as he was
informed would initiate him into its mysteries. Obtaining a little
knowledge, he soon after began playing daily with Zsen, receiving no odds,
because, as before stated, Zsen would not give any, upon principle. During
eighteen months, Löwenthal never scored one game. But whilst Zsen was away
on his travels at Paris and elsewhere, he made rapid progress,
particularly in the openings; and on his antagonist's return, he induced
him to give the advantage of Pawn and Move, and Zsen lost every game.
Returning to even play, the latter won the large majority; but with
constant practice, Löwenthal decreased the distance between them, although
he never turned the tables upon his adversary. Herr L. considers that, in
their best play, Grimm would win three games to Zsen's seven, and four to
his six. Most chess-players finished Grimm some years back, but he still
flourishes "down East." After the Hungarian agitation of 1848, he fled
into Turkey, and is now settled in Aleppo, where, as he turned Mussulman,
he no doubt revels.

Grimm was a music publisher in Pesth, and, according to Herr Löwenthal, a
man of high intelligence, being a celebrated _pianist_ and a thorough
proficient in the German, French, Italian, and Latin languages. He was
also renowned as a whist-player, and his equal at the billiard-table was
not to be found throughout the entire Austrian Empire. His chess was the
antithesis of Zsen's, being "brilliant, but not over sound," qualities
which find favor with "the gallery," but are dangerous to one's backers in
a match. This interesting triumvirate--Zsen, Grimm, Löwenthal--had it all
their own way, in Pesth, until July, 1842, when Alexandre came there, and
then they had him too. Alexandre brought his Encyclopædia, or the
Encyclopædia brought him, and both of them got sold in the Hungarian
capital. He thought the idea of anybody there beating him, simply
preposterous; but was irresistibly convinced to the contrary when Grimm &
Co. did it with so much charming facility, that he told them they were a
match for the Paris _Cercle des Echecs_, and advised them to send a
challenge forthwith. The triumvirate were shy at first, then did as they
were told, and, to their surprise, the Paris Club accepted their _défi_ by
return of post, enclosing the first move. The match consisted of two
games, and 1,250 francs a side; the reader can learn, on inquiry at Café
de la Régence in Paris, who didn't win it.

Herr Löwenthal's business led him twice a year to Vienna, and on those
occasions he improved his play with the amateurs of the _Cercle des
Echecs_ of that capital. In 1846, he won a match of Hampe, beating him
nearly 2 to 1. About the same period he visited Breslau, and won a
majority of games (off-hand) from Anderssen. He then steered for Berlin,
"the city of the seven stars"--Heyderbrandt, Bledow, Bilguer, Hanstein,
Mayet, Hörwitz and Mendheim. The first of these paladins was absent from
the capital, but Herr L. met him subsequently at Vienna, and Heyderbrandt
won a majority of two games. With Hanstein, Löwenthal effected an even
result, but got the better of Mayet. In Von der Lasa's absence, Bledow was
incontestably the strongest player of the club; but Bledow was jealous of
his reputation, and declined opposing the Hungarian, until strongly urged
by the members. Herr Löwenthal states that Bledow evinced the greatest
generosity. Having a certainly-won game, but not wishing to damp a young
reputation by defeat, he said, "Oh, I suppose it can only be a drawn
game," and forthwith made a move which allowed his antagonist to escape
and draw the contest. Not many Bledows in this world!

In 1849, Herr Löwenthal visited the United States, during the contest
between Messrs. Stanley and Turner. With the latter gentleman he played
two matches, winning both, and subsequently accompanied him into Kentucky,
where he commenced another with Colonel Dudley, being again successful.
Thence he strayed to Cincinnati, where he met his fellow-countryman,
Colonel Pragay, and travelled with him to New Orleans, carrying a letter
of introduction to Mr. Eugene Rousseau. Immediately on arriving he was
taken ill with fever; but on recovery, he called upon that gentleman and
heard, for the first time, of Paul Morphy. Our hero, then but twelve years
of age, won two games, drew one, and lost none; and although Herr
Löwenthal did not imagine that he thus made the acquaintance of a master
whom he would eventually rank as the superior of every chess-player that
ever lived--Labourdonnais not excepted--yet he felt satisfied that his
youthful opponent would rise to equality with the strongest living
amateurs. As proof of this, I will give a paragraph from _The Era_ of
October 5th, 1856, twelve months before Paul Morphy was known outside of
Louisiana. Herr Löwenthal writes as follows:

     "CHESS IN AMERICA.--The progress Chess has made in America is
     almost, if not quite, equal to that which it has achieved in
     England. This is more than might have been expected; for in a
     comparatively new country men may be supposed to be busier and
     more restless than in an old one, and it seems to be rather
     against probabilities that a game, requiring quiet thought and
     study, should have been developed to the same extent as more
     bustling amusements in America. Yet that it is so is proved by
     the fact that in almost every large town there is a Chess Club,
     and many of these clubs are in communication, and play games by
     correspondence. Another proof is also to be found in the number
     of papers regularly devoting a part of their space to chess,
     and giving, as the English chess papers do, well-contested
     games, with notes, problems, and chess intelligence. Among the
     first in rank of these is the _Albion_, the chess column of
     which is, we believe, edited by Mr. Stanley, and among the
     latest of the accessions to the chess ranks we observe _Frank
     Leslie's Illustrated Paper_. In the first rank of the players
     in New York (between which and Philadelphia a correspondence
     match is now going on) we may mention Messrs. Stanley,
     Sullivan, Thompson, and Perrin. We must pay some _attention to
     chess in America if we mean to keep our laurels green_. The men
     of the New World are not apt to lag behind when they throw
     themselves into any pursuit, and if we do not take care, we may
     have the next chess champion from the far west."

Herr Löwenthal, on quitting the Crescent City, returned to Cincinnati,
where he was induced to settle. He opened a smoking and chess divan, and
was on the high road to fortune, when he received a letter from Mr.
Charles H. Stanley, in New York, enclosing one from Mr. Staunton. This
communication invited Herr Löwenthal to attend the International
Tournament at London, in 1851, and ambition prevailed over cupidity. He,
however, got ousted in the first round of the tournay, his antagonist
being Mr. Williams, but he turned the tables upon that gentleman soon
afterwards, by beating him in a set match.

When the St. George's Chess Club removed to St. James's street, Herr
Löwenthal was elected secretary out of one hundred and forty candidates,
and officiated in that capacity during four years. "_The Era_" newspaper
commenced a chess column in February, 1854, and he was selected by the
proprietor to conduct it--our readers know with what success. A few months
ago, the _Illustrated News of the World_ announced its intention of
devoting a column weekly to the game, under the direction of Herr
Löwenthal, and he also edits an elementary chess article in the _Family
Herald_. A fair amount of weekly work for one man; especially when his
book labors and frequent play at the London, St. George's, and St. James's
are taken into consideration. The last-named club is his own child, and
promises to become one of the most flourishing in the metropolis.

Herr Löwenthal did not regard his play with Morphy at New Orleans as any
test of their respective strength, but it was not at all agreeable to his
feelings to have it recorded against him that he was beaten by a boy of
twelve. So, on Paul Morphy's arrival in England, he hastened to challenge
him, and of course a match was immediately agreed upon. It was at first
arranged that the match should be for £50 a side, and the victor he who
first scored seven games, but the challenger possessed so many warm
friends, all of whom wished to have a share in the stakes, that it was
proposed to Morphy to double the amount and increase the number of games
to nine. It is lucky that Morphy was not born a woman, for he never says
"no" to any proposition, and he did not to this. Half of Herr Löwenthal's
stakes were found by the London, and the remainder by members of the St.
George's; and it was stipulated that the games should be played
alternately at the rooms of those two clubs.

My readers know the result. According to the opinion, or rather the
statements, of numerous London players, Herr Löwenthal played much below
his usual strength--one gentleman stating that his combinations were
unworthy of a rook-player even. I was used to this, and liked it. The New
Yorkers had uttered similar stuff, saying that Morphy only beat them
because he knew the openings better, and I can state on authority that all
the players in Europe came to a mutual understanding not to play their
game when Morphy was their antagonist. But there was also another reason
for the latter's success. He frightened his adversaries, not by his
strength, but by his personal appearance. This boy of twenty-one, five
feet four inches in height, of slim figure, and face like a young girl in
her teens, positively appalled the chess warriors of the old
world--Narcissus defying the Titans. Herr Löwenthal was the first to give
Morphy his due; before the final game in the match was played, he said to
me: "I felt chagrined at the result of the first one or two games, because
I thought that I ought to have won them; but now I feel no longer
dissatisfied, for I am convinced that I am vanquished by superior
strength." And he has since told me--"After the first game I went home
saying to myself, 'Well, Morphy is not so terrible after all!' The second
_partie_ failed to change my opinion; but, in the third, I saw all my
combinations twisted and turned against me, and I felt myself in a grasp
against which it was almost vain to struggle." Chess-players will shortly
see this noble-minded gentleman's opinion of Morphy fully expressed, in a
collection of the latter's games which he has lately been engaged in
editing.

The following extract from _The Era_ newspaper thus announces the result
of the match to its readers:

     FINISH OF THE GREAT CHESS MATCH.

     The match between Mr. Paul Morphy and Herr Löwenthal came to an
     end on Saturday the 22d, the American carrying the victory.
     Although it was universally remarked that Herr Löwenthal's play
     was far below his usual strength, it must at the same time be
     admitted that the play of Mr. Morphy marks that gentleman out
     as one of the finest players in the world. We shall be glad to
     see him engage with other great European players, in order that
     it may be proved which is the stronger in the game, the Old
     World or the New. We believe Mr. Morphy is ready to challenge
     all comers. There is something exceedingly romantic and
     chivalrous about this young man's coming over to Europe and
     throwing down the gauntlet to all our veterans. He is certainly
     a very admirable Crichton of Chess, and, like the accomplished
     Scot, he is as courteous and generous as he is brave and
     skilful.

     _The Era_, August 29th, 1858.

When the above match was only about half through, another was arranged
between our hero and "Alter," the former giving the odds of Pawn and Move.
In conversation one day with some gentlemen at the St. George's, Paul
Morphy had expressed himself dissatisfied with "Alter's" having won a
game from him, stating that he could give him the odds of Pawn and Move.
This coming to "Alter's" ears, he stated to Mr. Hampton, the secretary of
the Club, that he felt confident Mr. Morphy could do no such thing, and
that he would very willingly play a match with him, in a friendly spirit,
to convince him to the contrary. Whereupon Mr. Hampton brought the cartel
to Morphy, who gladly accepted it, and, the two principals being put face
to face, it was agreed that a set of ivory club-size Staunton chessmen
should become the property of the winner of the first five games. Now
"Alter" had been playing for months past at those odds (P. & M.) with Mr.
Staunton, holding his own against that gentleman, and he considered that
if he (Mr. S.) could not beat him, certainly Morphy could not. So
confident was he of the result, that he told the young American: "Were it
not for my position (meaning as a clergyman), I would willingly play you
for a thousand pounds." As far as he was concerned, Morphy, too, was
confident. Before the contest commenced, he said to me: "'Alter' may win
two games, but he will not win more;" and I would here notice his (M.'s)
power of estimating an opponent's strength. When the preliminaries were
settled with Herr Löwenthal, he stated to me: "If I cared about betting, I
would bet that Löwenthal does not win five games. Of course there will be
plenty of draws, but he will not get more than four." On our way to Paris,
he said: "Well, now I am going to play Harrwitz, and I would bet the same
as I did about Löwenthal;" and when he was preparing to meet Anderssen, he
awarded four games to the Prussian champion. In every instance he
overrated his opponents, or, perhaps I should rather say, underrated
himself.

The preliminaries were soon settled, all ceremony, seconds, &c., being
dispensed with; the only condition, that I can recollect, was in regard to
smoking. "Alter" observed that gentlemen could use the weed in the room
where the match was played, but it must be in moderation, so as not to
render the atmosphere insupportable. "Alter" gave a capital example on the
first game: he sat down in front of Morphy with an ordinary cigar in his
mouth; when that was nearly finished, he ordered the waiter to bring him a
full-sized _regalia_; cutty-pipe and "birdseye" followed the _regalia_;
and then he left the room to fetch an immense _meerschaum_, from which he
blew clouds worthy of Peter Stuyvesant and the Knickerbockers.

"Alter" was thoroughly acquainted with the peculiar nature of the "pawn
and move" game; Morphy, on the contrary, was less accustomed to those odds
than to any other. In New Orleans, he did not engage even players, or any,
in fact, but such as he gave the knight, and much more frequently, the
rook. In New York he played a short match at pawn and move with Mr.
Stanley, and that may be considered his introduction to such odds; I was
therefore as much astonished as any one when I saw him make such short
work of "Alter," who never won a single game, and only succeeded in
drawing two. I am afraid that this result seriously interfered with Mr.
Staunton's fixing a day for the commencement of the match between himself
and Morphy.

It must not be supposed that our hero was devoting all his time to chess,
or that the game was always uppermost in his thoughts. A foreigner, and
especially an American, feels bound to visit all "the lions" of the
English metropolis, and Morphy was no exception to the rule. I was almost
constantly with him, and certainly no subject was less frequently referred
to than chess. I have been amused with the conduct of gentlemen on similar
occasions, who seemed to think that no other subject than that could
interest him, and after pertinaciously confining the conversation to the
game, took upon themselves to declare that it was the single thought of
his life. So that, in England, he is looked upon as a chess automaton. In
France they give him the very opposite character, complaining of his
aversion for the game.

Precisely the same thing was observable in their references to the
peculiar style of his play. In England, they considered him the very
_beau-ideal_ of brilliancy, comparing him to McDonnel, and to "Cochrane,
without his faults." In Paris, however, they characterized his game as
"_solide_, close, and analytical, not possessing brilliance like
Labourdonnais;" although these Frenchmen, one and all, with the exception
of De Rivière, forced their close openings upon him.

Since Mr. Staunton's voluntary relinquishment of what he terms "actual
play," confining himself to consultation games and "odds," Mr. Boden is
admitted to be the best English player. The B's certainly form a strong
phalanx amongst London amateurs, numbering such names as Buckle, Boden,
Barnes, Brien, Bird; but the first-named gentleman has long since quitted
the lists. Mr. Boden was no exception to the rule of English players in
their opinion of Morphy, on the latter's arriving in Europe; but he was
one of the first to be convinced of the American's superiority, and, with
John Bull honesty, immediately avowed it. The admirably-conducted chess
column in _The Field_, is under his supervision; and his remarks therein
on Morphy's tactics are too well known to require any comment from me. I
have heard him state his conviction that no one could possibly be better
adapted for the game, whether physically or mentally; and he, too, like
Herr Löwenthal, ranks Morphy above all known players. In the month of
January last, he drew my attention to one game in particular, between our
hero and Anderssen, stating that he was satisfied "Labourdonnais would
have lost it ten times over." Now it requires great courage on the part of
any man to place a player beside Labourdonnais, much more above him. Herr
Löwenthal says that he does not wonder that the chess world is so backward
in giving Morphy the rank to which he is entitled; "but few players are
capable of appreciating his games, and it was only after careful analysis
that he could form a proper opinion of them." He assured me that he has
frequently been confounded at the depth of Morphy's combinations whilst
engaged in their work, expressing his firm conviction that when a
collection of his games shall be placed before the public, the chess world
will rank Morphy above all players, living or dead.

The proportion in which Morphy had beaten Mr. Boden was so great, namely,
five to one, that a prominent member of the St. George's remarked on
hearing it, "Well, I did not think any player living could win in such
proportion." I remember a similar occurrence in reference to Mr. Perrin,
the late secretary of the New York Chess Club, some weeks before the
appearance of Paul Morphy in that city. In answer to a friend, this
gentleman replied, "That is the same as saying that a player could give
any of us a piece," (meaning the principal members of his club, who were
considered about on a par with each other.) "Now, I don't think that
Labourdonnais, even, could give me the knight." Morphy, nevertheless,
after beating him at even, at pawn and move, and pawn and two, offered him
the knight, which was accepted "for trial's sake;" and out of five games
there was a difference of the odd victory, but my memory fails me as to
whether it was won by Morphy or not. Mr. Perrin will not feel displeased
at my mentioning this fact, because it is pretty well conceded now, that
where any other player can give pawn and two moves, Morphy can very easily
give the knight. European celebrities, in making comparison of the
strength of different amateurs, leave Morphy out of the question; and when
they compare him at all, it is only with Labourdonnais. And very few of
them, too, would scruple at taking odds from him. On the publication of
his challenge to Mr. Harrwitz to play a match at pawn and move for 500
francs, Mr. Boden stated in _The Field_, "There is more than one English
player who will be glad to meet Mr. Morphy on these terms."

The majority of his games in London, Morphy played at the Divan. It was a
general subject of regret, after he had vanquished the different amateurs
in the capital, that Mr. Bird was absent in the North, and that the
American might leave before that gentleman could visit London. Mr. Bird is
a terrible fellow for attacking right and left; his game was described as
the counterpart of Morphy's, it being added that he was just the
antagonist our hero required. At last, Mr. Bird arrived, and the result
between the two was more startling than ever, Morphy winning ten to one.
It is but just to state that Mr. Bird was somewhat out of play, as he
himself observed; adding, however, that he never was a match for his
antagonist. It gives me much pleasure to relate such instances as these,
because, as a general rule, there are no more self-confident mortals than
prominent chess-players.

It would be difficult to remember all the men with whom Morphy played at
the Divan; or, rather, with whom he did not play. But I must not forget
that merry individual, Mr. Lowe. It was in the Divan that Mr. Staunton
played Mr. Lowe that celebrated match at pawn and move, the play in which
on both sides, as Mr. S. observed, "was unworthy of second-rate players in
a third-rate coffee-room," because Mr. Staunton was beaten. Since that
occasion, Mr. Staunton has slighted the Divan, but Mr. Lowe still
flourishes there, ever ready to meet all comers, and if not nightly
playing somebody, at all events nightly making everybody laugh. Mr. Lowe
made trial of Morphy privately, immediately on the latter's arrival, and
forthwith ran to the Divan to tell everybody, much to everybody's disgust,
that not one of them would have any chance against the American. They all
laughed at him, the only reply being, "Oh, Lowe, you're a funny fellow!"

Before the Birmingham meeting, Morphy had met all the leading Metropolitan
players, with, of course, the exception of Mr. Staunton. And yet perhaps I
should not except that gentleman, for our hero had played in two
consultation games with him, Mr. S.'s ally being "Alter," and Morphy's,
Mr. Barnes. Messrs. Barnes and "Alter" are well matched. Both of these
consultation games were won by Messrs. Barnes and Morphy.

As the latter part of the month of August approached, considerable
curiosity was evinced in various quarters as to whether Paul Morphy would
then be a contestant in the tournament. Although not a Yankee, he
nevertheless displayed as much "cuteness" under oft-repeated
interrogatories as the downiest "down Easter;" feeling what an important
bearing his determination would have upon the expected match with Mr.
Staunton. In a subsequent chapter will be found his reasons for not
entering the lists on that occasion. He was well aware that his decision
must necessarily produce considerable disappointment, but he was conscious
that a tournament triumph is by no means an accurate test of strength. If
chess can ever become a game of chance, it is under such circumstances;
and the only sure criterion of the respective strengths of two opponents
is by actual hand-to-hand encounter.

But Morphy did not intend disappointing the Birmingham gentry altogether,
and felt convinced that if he played six or eight games blindfold before
the association, they would pardon his absence at the opening of the
meeting. After the tournament had got into the second section, he left
London and arrived at Birmingham before the day's proceedings had fully
commenced. I had the pleasure of accompanying him, and on our arrival at
the College in which the meeting of the British Chess Association was
held, we found quite a crowd in the commodious rooms provided by the
Committee of Management. The President of the Birmingham Club, Mr. Avery,
introduced the young American to the members of the association, and the
cheers with which he was received were such as seldom come from others
than Englishmen. Morphy advanced up the room without the slightest
embarrassment, although his reception was as unlooked-for as it was
flattering. Saint Amant, who was present, wrote a brilliant account of the
meeting to the Paris journal _Le Sport_, and I am only sorry that I have
not the article in question by me at the present moment. The style of the
article, however, is indelibly fixed in my memory, reminding one of the
Lays of the old Troubadours. Saint Amant writes prose in poetry, and he
has made of Morphy an epic hero. He tells the Parisians that the young
American is no mere pale-faced boy, visiting foreign lands to increase his
powers; but "a citizen of the United States, who comes to claim a sceptre
in Europe." Then again, "his walk is that of a king, and he advances
through the crowd of strangers like a monarch receiving homage from his
court." But he does not forget to state that Morphy is innately modest,
and that all this admiration has no bad effect upon him; for such has been
the theme of every one who has been brought in contact with him.

Most of the principal players in England were assembled at Birmingham, in
August, 1858. Amongst them, Staunton, Löwenthal, Boden, Bird, Kipping,
Owen, Salmon, Avery, Hampton, the President of the Association, Lord
Lyttelton, Falkbeer, Brien, etc. The prominent feature of the meeting was
of course the tournament prizes of sixty and twenty guineas, for which
Messrs. Staunton, Löwenthal, St. Amant, Falkbeer, Kipping, Owen, Hughes,
Brien, Smith, Ingleby, Bird, Zsabo, Hampton, Brettlestone, and Salmon
contended. The sixteenth player was intended to be Morphy, but not
appearing in time, he was ruled to have lost all further share in the
contest. It was matter for much disappointment that Mr. Boden did not
enter the lists, especially after the gallant fight he had made at the
previous meeting of the association in Manchester. The final result was
that Herr Löwenthal carried off the first prize, and Herr Falkbeer the
second; and, so far as the former gentleman was concerned, almost every
player was both astonished and gratified at the _dénouement_. It was only
during the week preceding the Birmingham Festival, that the Hungarian had
succumbed to his youthful antagonist, and he had consequently entered on a
fresh contest with all the disheartening recollections of defeat; a
defeat, too, which he expressed his belief had seriously damaged his chess
reputation. Prominent London players had criticized his games with Morphy
in an inconsiderate spirit, the almost universal statement being that he
had not played up to any thing like his usual strength. The criticisms on
his moves in the widely circulated columns of the _Illustrated London
News_ were cruel to a degree; slighting allusions being made to his
"bookish theoric," etc. Yet this old veteran goes down to the field of
battle with unshaken courage, wins two games, one after the other, from
Mr. Staunton in the second section of the tournay, and carries off the
first prize in the teeth of fourteen able competitors. This result proved
one thing beyond a doubt, namely, that Morphy's late triumph was the
consequence of his superior strength, and not from mere want of practice
and skill on the part of Herr Löwenthal. And it also verified the
observation of Mr. George Walker, in _Bell's Life_, that "Mr. Morphy beat
Mr. Löwenthal because Mr. Morphy was stronger than Mr. Löwenthal." Oh, Mr.
Walker! Mr. Walker! what a rude way you have of putting naked truths
before the public!

Of course Morphy was not allowed to twirl his thumbs in idleness,
especially with so energetic a master of the ceremonies as Mr. Avery. This
gentleman soon arranged a contest between our hero and Mr. Kipping, the
leading Manchester player, and exponent of the Evans' Gambit. Mr. K. had
the move, and played the opening he has so much at heart; Morphy accepted,
under the impression that he, too, knew something about the Evans'. First
game scored by the American, the Manchester amateur thirsting for revenge.
Morphy, in his turn, plays the Evans', and Mr. Kipping cries "enough." No
other single games were played by Morphy during the meeting, the leading
celebrities present being engaged in the tournament, but our hero made up
the difference by astonishing the natives with a display of his blindfold
powers.

When Morphy declared his intention, in London, to play eight games
without sight of the board, there were very few who believed the thing
possible. They knew that Labourdonnais and Philidor had played two or
three games simultaneously, and that Kieseritzky and Harrwitz had repeated
the performance in later times, but there was a wide leap from three to
eight antagonists. Harrwitz had earned a great reputation in Europe by his
blindfold prowess, and was regarded without a rival, although many other
players, such as Anderssen, De Rivière, etc., had occasionally met two or
three antagonists at a time. Here was "a coil;" this young champion of the
West, not satisfied with vanquishing all the chess veterans of England
over the board, prepares to cast for ever into the shade the most
astonishing performances of this and past ages. Well might Saint Amant
declare that it was enough to make the bones of Philidor and Labourdonnais
rattle in their graves!

I well remember Paul Morphy's first blindfold contest in New York. It was
on the occasion of Paulsen's playing against four antagonists without
sight of the board. Morphy offered to be one of his adversaries, and to
meet him on the same conditions; and somewhere about the twentieth move he
announced mate in five, much to Paulsen's astonishment, who did not think
the crash was so near, although well aware he was "going to the bad." Mr.
Paulsen got such an insight into Morphy's blindfold capabilities, that he
subsequently observed to me, "Mr. Morphy can play as many games, without
seeing the board, as I can, only he is so unwilling to lose a game."

It will here be well to mark the difference between the blindfold
performances of these two gentlemen. Both of them _see the boards_ in the
mind's eye equally well, but there the resemblance stops. Paulsen's
contests average fifty moves, whereas Morphy's seldom extend beyond
thirty. The former is a _balista_, the latter, a rifle bullet. What each
is over the board, he is with his back turned to it, and there are many
even in Europe who maintain that Morphy's blindfold feats are more
brilliant than his usual mode of play. Paul Morphy, however, attaches very
little importance to these displays, calling them mere _tours de force_,
notwithstanding that they appear so wonderful to the multitude. To quote a
favorite expression of his, one frequently used by him in speaking on the
subject--"It proves nothing."

A young gentleman has lately appeared somewhere in Germany, who, we are
informed, has reproduced Morphy's performances at Birmingham and Paris. In
fact he is represented to have precisely re-enacted the American's victory
in the French capital, playing against eight _strong_ antagonists, winning
from six and drawing from two. There seems some "method" in this; at least
I for one cannot help feeling suspicious, especially as the news is
heralded to the world in connection with Morphy's name. I have seen one of
the games played on the occasion, in which this young gentleman announces
mate in ten or twelve moves--an astonishing announcement, indeed, under
the circumstances. The whole affair is beautifully managed throughout,
and, whether played blindfolded or over the board, marks the player as an
amateur of the very highest order. Was the transaction _bona fide_? Now I
do not wish to depreciate any man for the sake of benefiting another.
_Palmam qui meruit, ferat._ We know that Morphy has played against eight
antagonists on two separate and most public occasions, and that the most
eminent players in England and France were witnesses of his performance.
If Germany does possess a second Morphy, let him step forward and prove
his identity, and I, for one, will do him reverence. Cannot that
responsible body, the Berlin Chess Club, tell us something tangible about
him, and why it is that we never heard any thing about him till now?
Perhaps he is a new Deschappelles, and has acquired chess in forty-eight
hours, on hearing of Morphy's feats. The Berlin Schackzeitung can surely
investigate this affair, and enlighten us on what seems very much like a
_ruse de guerre_--an invention of the enemy.

But let us return to Birmingham. Mr. Avery asked the young American what
eight antagonists he would select; when the latter replied that it was
immaterial to him, but that he should prefer all strong players. There
were then in the room Messrs. Staunton, Saint Amant, Löwenthal, Boden,
Falkbeer, Brien, and others of not much inferior strength, and Morphy was
in hopes that many, if not all, of these gentlemen would offer themselves
as opponents. But he was mistaken, and great difficulty was experienced by
the Committee of Management in making up the required eight, who were,
finally, as follows: Lord Lyttelton, President of the British Chess
Association, Rev. Mr. Salmon, the strongest Irish player, Messrs. Kipping,
Avery, Wills, Rhodes, Carr, and Dr. Freeman. Paul Morphy was put up in a
corner at the end of the room, and, every thing being prepared for action,
he threw open his portholes and gave the signal, "Pawn to King's Fourth on
all the boards."

Of course I am not going to mystify the general reader with the scientific
details of the contest. I know that Lord Lyttelton had the first board,
and received the deference due to his exalted rank, by being the first put
_hors du combat_, and I remarked, too, that after his lordship had decided
on his various moves, he would get up from his seat, walk towards the end
of the room, and contemplate Morphy, as though desirous of seeing how he
did it. And I know, too, that St. Amant was running from table to table,
giving advice to one and the other with his continual "Il va croquer ça,"
as an intimation that one or the other must look out for a pawn or piece
in danger. And then, too, Morphy kept on checking Mr. Avery's king by
moving his rook from the seventh square to the eighth, backwards and
forwards, until that estimable gentleman declared it was a drawn game,
when a bystander horrified him with the information--"That is only after
fifty moves; Morphy will keep you there until he has kiboshed the others,
and then he will honor you with his sole attention." But the game was
finally declared drawn.

And, at the finish, how everybody applauded when Morphy arose, the
vanquisher of six, having only lost the game with Mr. Kipping--through an
oversight at the beginning. And how everybody was astonished when he
stepped from his seat as fresh as a newly plucked daisy, and Mr. Staunton
examined him closely to find traces of fatigue. Then indeed his not
playing in the tournament was forgiven and forgotten.

Then there was the soirée, and the capital matter-of-fact address of Lord
Lyttelton. His lordship lauded Morphy to the skies, both for his blindfold
and other play, and referred to the match with Mr. Staunton, trusting that
Morphy would beat every other antagonist but that gentleman. Nothing more
now remained to be done in England for some months to come; and Morphy
returned to London, to prepare for his campaigns on the Continent.




CHAPTER VI.

THE STAUNTON AFFAIR.


We must anticipate the events of a few months, in order to place the
discussion with Mr. Staunton where it properly belongs, viz., with
Morphy's achievements in England. I do not think I have omitted a single
fact or incident connected with an affair which has now become history,
and my readers will agree with me that Mr. Staunton has suffered a far
worse defeat by not playing the match than if he had been vanquished, as
everybody says he would have been.

In dealing with this most delicate question, I feel desirous of letting
facts, as far as possible, speak for themselves; but as it is the province
and the duty of historians to seek the causes of events and to criticize
the actions of their _dramatis personæ_, I shall record, in all honesty
and kindliness, what I believe to have been the motives at work in this
contest. And, in order that nothing may remain unsaid, I shall give all
the correspondence on the subject, both _pro_ and _con_.

Paul Morphy's principal object in coming to Europe was to play a match
with Mr. Staunton. I am well aware that a young gentleman travelling for
the first time in foreign countries must have many objects in view; but in
this particular case, the pretext for the voyage, the very inducement for
his friends to consent to his journey, was to repeat that challenge
personally, in England, which Mr. Staunton had declined, on the ground of
the place of combat not being in Europe. It is necessary that this point
should be understood, because much of the controversy hinges upon it. If
we examine the challenge addressed to Mr. Staunton by the New Orleans
Chess Club, we find therein two main ideas: 1stly. That Mr. Staunton is a
representative of European chess. 2ndly. That American players challenge
him to combat with their representative. Mr. Staunton's reply raised but
one objection; and that objection led Paul Morphy across the Atlantic, in
order to remove the only stumbling-block in the way of the contest.

I was constantly with Morphy after his arrival in London, and a frequent
subject of conversation between us was the match with Mr. Staunton. That,
too, was the first, the principal topic at all the London Clubs we
visited, and every thing but the date was looked upon as decided. Mr.
Staunton, however, had not, as yet, stated explicitly that he accepted the
challenge, but he did so _viva voce_ shortly after Mr. Morphy's arrival,
and subsequently, in the _Illustrated London News_.

It seems as if Mr. Staunton had refrained from accepting the _défi_ until
a somewhat accurate estimate could be formed of his challenger's strength.
Previously to the latter's arrival, Mr. S.'s opinion of him was not at all
equal to that entertained by his countrymen in America, nor did any player
in England give him the rank which he now holds. There were no means by
which to judge of his force. Not a dozen of his games _all told_ had been
seen in Europe, and his antagonists were comparatively unknown, with the
exception of Mr. Charles H. Stanley. But that gentleman had, for some
years, withdrawn from the chess arena, and his play with Morphy did not,
certainly, equal his former exploits with Rousseau and Schulten. It was,
therefore, absolutely necessary to await the result of his play with some
known European antagonist; and I feel confident that the stature of his
ability was measured on his first twelve or fifteen games with Mr. Barnes.
Judging from these _parties_, Paul Morphy was little, if any thing,
superior to that gentleman, but time had not been allowed him to recover
from the fatigues of his voyage, and I have always remarked that
travelling, even by rail, seriously deteriorates Morphy's game.

In accepting the challenge, Mr. Staunton postponed the commencement of the
match for a month, "in order to brush up his openings and endings." This
was too reasonable for Morphy to decline. Subsequently, as will be seen by
the latter's correspondence, Mr. Staunton obtained a postponement until
after the Birmingham meeting, in August. In the mean time, the young
American had won the match with Herr Löwenthal, beaten "Alter" in a set
contest at "pawn and move," and startled the chess community by the
imposing manner in which he had triumphed over every opponent. Public
opinion had changed in respect to him. This was evinced by the way in
which the London players, almost universally, spoke of the proposed match.
I have heard gentlemen at the London Chess Club, the Divan, nay, even at
the St. George's, declare repeatedly--"Mr. Staunton now knows too well
what antagonist he will have to deal with. Depend upon it, he will find
means of backing out." This language, repeated at every turn, necessarily
caused Paul Morphy some anxiety. On myself, however, I can conscientiously
declare it had no effect. I did not believe it possible that any man
having so publicly accepted a challenge, would attempt to avoid a contest,
and expressed this opinion to Mr. Morphy, "It will be well not to accept
all that one hears. Mr. Staunton has numerous enemies; do not allow
yourself to be prejudiced by them, but look upon his acceptance of the
challenge as a certainty that the match will come off."

With yet unshaken confidence in Mr. Staunton's intention to play, Paul
Morphy addressed him a short note, ten days prior to the Birmingham
meeting; to this he received a somewhat lengthy reply, the main point in
it being that Mr. Staunton still required "a few weeks" for preparation.
Morphy responded forthwith, entirely removing all ground for further
excuse by "leaving the terms to himself." Here was an unjustifiable mode
of putting an end to diplomacy! Mr. S. could not continue a correspondence
with one so overwhelmingly courteous, and he left London for Birmingham
without even acknowledging the receipt of the letter.

Much argument has been built up against Paul Morphy on his non-appearance
in the tournament, and one writer has endeavored to prove from it that he
was afraid to meet Mr. Staunton. Before leaving London, the latter
gentleman assured his young opponent _that he should not enter the lists,
but should confine himself to simple consultation games_. Why Mr. S.
changed his mind, it is not for me to say; although I might argue that Mr.
Staunton sallied forth courageously when he was certain that "Achilles
keeps his tent." However, Paul Morphy's first reason for not entering the
tournay was that, his main object being to meet Mr. Staunton, and that
gentleman having stated his intention of confining himself to a mere
consultation game, as in past years, there was no chance of their crossing
swords, and, consequently, no use of his spending two or three weeks in a
contest which never could be a decisive test of skill. But, when repeated
telegrams assured him that the English champion had decided on becoming a
contestant, there were still stronger reasons for his continued
declination. These reasons were the consequences of Mr. Staunton's own
acts, added to the opinion of nearly every London player, that that
gentleman was seeking an opportunity to evade the match. All these
occurrences had somewhat shaken Mr. Morphy's faith, and he could not but
be suspicious of his antagonist's movements. _He therefore declined
positively and finally to enter the tournament, under the belief that,
whether he won or lost in that contest, it would be equally to the
prejudice of the challenge. Mr. Staunton might say, "I have beaten Morphy;
what is the use of further contest?" or "He has beaten me, I am
consequently out of play. It would be madness to attempt a set match."_
This, and this only, prevented Paul Morphy from visiting Birmingham at the
commencement of the tournament. Had he gone there when requested, every
influence would have been brought to bear to induce him to alter his
determination, and he merely consulted the interests of the contest he had
so much at heart, by keeping out of temptation until the tournament was
too far under way to admit of his entering it.

But the meeting of the association afforded an admirable opportunity to
obtain from Mr. Staunton the naming of the day on which the match should
commence. Part of the proceedings of the anniversary was a public soirée,
and Paul Morphy resolved that he would then ask his antagonist, in the
face of all present, to fix the date. I had the pleasure of accompanying
our hero to Birmingham, and I witnessed the disagreeable _contre temps_
which upset this admirable intention. Crossing the courtyard of the
college on the morning of the soirée, we met Lord Lyttelton, Mr. Staunton,
Mr. Avery, and, I think, Mr. Wills. Now I do not know whether Mr. Staunton
had got wind of what was to occur, but his action certainly frustrated
Morphy's plan, and, for the moment, gave him the advantage. In all such
rencontres the man who gets the first word has the attack, and Mr.
Staunton instantly availed himself of it. He opened fire by declaring that
he was entirely out of play--that he had long been engaged on a great
work--that he was under bonds to his publishers accordingly--that he might
subject them to a loss of many thousands in playing at the present time,
and so forth. But he never stated aught that appeared to intimate the
possibility of the match not coming off eventually, his plea being that he
required further time, in order to put sufficient matter into the hands of
the printers, and to prepare himself subsequently for the contest. It was
now Morphy's turn, and the attack changed hands. The question was put:
"Mr. Staunton, will you play in October, in November, or December? Choose
your own time, but let the arrangement be final." The answer was: "Well,
Mr. Morphy, if you will consent to the postponement, I will play you at
the beginning of November. I will see my publishers, and let you know the
exact date within a few days." The association now looked upon the affair
as decided, and Morphy left Birmingham, firmly believing that the match
would come off after all.

On the 28th of August, within a few days of the above conversation, the
following extraordinary announcement appeared in the _Illustrated London
News_:

     A SPECIMEN OF MR. STAUNTON'S STYLE OF PLAY.

     ANTI-BOOK.--As you surmise, "knowing the authority," the slang
     of the sporting paper in question regarding the proposed
     encounter between Mr. Staunton and the young American is
     "bunkum." In matches of importance it is the invariable
     practice in this country, before any thing definite is settled,
     for each party to be provided with representatives to arrange
     the terms and money for the stakes. Mr. Morphy has come here
     unfurnished in both respects; and, although both will no doubt
     be forthcoming in due time, it is clearly impossible, until
     they are, that any determinate arrangement can be made. 2. The
     statement of another contemporary that the reduction in the
     amount of stakes from £1000 aside to £500 was made at the
     suggestion of the English amateur is equally devoid of truth;
     the proposal to reduce the amount having been made by Mr.
     Morphy.

I was perfectly astonished when I read this statement. "Mr. Morphy had
caused the stakes to be reduced from £1000 to £500 a side." Without
mentioning Englishmen, there were Americans in London and Paris who
asserted that Morphy could be backed against Mr. Staunton _for £10,000,
and the money be raised within twenty-four hours_. I mentioned this fact
to a noble lady in Paris, in order to show the confidence in which the
young American was held, and she replied, "Oh, as regards that, you may
tell Mr. Morphy from me, that for £10,000 against Mr. Staunton or any
player in Europe, he must not go further than my house."

I asked Morphy to demand an immediate retraction of the unblushing
statements contained in the above paragraph, but he replied--"When a man
resorts to such means as these, he will not stop until he has committed
himself irremediably. Let him go on." Shortly after that Mr. Staunton
changed his tactics. Let not the reader suppose I am about to represent
things otherwise than they appear on the record. Let him take up the files
of the _Illustrated London News_ from the time of Morphy's arrival in
England to his match with Harrwitz; let him examine the analysis of the
games, the notes to the moves in that paper, and he will invariably
perceive that the American's antagonists _could_ or _might have_ won, the
necessary inference being--"There's nothing so extraordinary about
Morphy's play, after all." A change appeared in the criticism on the eight
blindfold games at Birmingham, but, then, Morphy stood alone, and
interfered with no one's pretensions. When, however, the match with
Harrwitz came off, Mr. Staunton's tone was suddenly altered, and this
gentleman who, previously, had scarcely a word of commendation for Morphy,
now talked of "combinations which would have excited the admiration of
Labourdonnais."

     "The force of 'language' could no further go."

Mr. Morphy judged from this unexpected change of tone that Mr. Staunton
either believed that these contests with continental players would take
up so much of his time in Europe, that he would have to leave without
playing him; or that Mr. S. was experimenting on the maxim--"There are
more flies caught with honey than with vinegar." He therefore addressed
him the following letter, and in order that the public might no longer be
under misapprehension as to the case in hand, he sent copies of the
communication to those papers which had shown him marked kindness in
Europe. At the suggestion of a very shrewd and attached American friend, a
copy was also forwarded to the editor-in-chief of the _Illustrated London
News_.

The publication of the letter to Mr. Staunton, in so many journals, was a
judicious proceeding. Newspapers are not fond of embarking in a discussion
which may probably "draw its slow length along," and terminate angrily.
Besides, whatever the feeling might be on the merits of the case, Mr.
Staunton was certainly in the position of English champion, and John Bull
does not like it to be proclaimed that one of his sons shows the "white
feather." But, at the same time, rivalry exists between all journals as to
precedence of news, and one paper would not willingly be behind the others
in giving Morphy's letter. Accordingly, the following Saturday, _Bell's
Life_, _The Era_, _The Field_, and the _Sunday Times_ published it as
follows:

     MORPHY'S LETTER TO STAUNTON.

                              CAFE DE LA REGENCE, PARIS, _Oct. 6, '58_.

     HOWARD STAUNTON, ESQ.:

     SIR,--On my arrival in England, three months since, I renewed
     the challenge to you personally which the New Orleans Chess
     Club had given some months previously. You immediately
     accepted, but demanded a month's delay in order to prepare
     yourself for the contest. Subsequently, you proposed that the
     time should be postponed until after the Birmingham meeting, to
     which I assented. On the approach of the period you had fixed,
     I addressed you a communication, requesting that the necessary
     preliminaries might be immediately settled, but you left London
     without replying to it. I went to Birmingham for the express
     purpose of asking you to put a stop to further delay by fixing
     a date for the opening of our match; but before the opportunity
     presented itself you came to me, and, in the presence of Lord
     Lyttelton, Mr. Avery, and other gentlemen, you stated that your
     time was much occupied in editing a new edition of Shakespeare,
     and that you were under heavy bonds to your publishers
     accordingly. But you reiterated your intention to play me, and
     said that if I would consent to a further postponement until
     the first week in November, you would, within a few days,
     communicate with me and fix the exact date. I have not heard
     further from you, either privately, by letter, or through the
     columns of the _Illustrated London News_.

     A statement appeared in the chess department of that journal a
     few weeks since, that "Mr. Morphy had come to Europe unprovided
     with backers or seconds," the inference being obvious that my
     want of funds was the reason of our match not taking place. As
     you are the editor of that department of the _Illustrated
     London News_, I felt hurt that a gentleman who had always
     received me at his club and elsewhere with great kindness and
     courtesy, should allow so prejudicial a statement to be made in
     reference to me--one, too, which is not strictly in accordance
     with fact.

     Permit me to repeat what I have invariably declared in every
     chess community I have had the honor of entering, that I am not
     a professional player--that I never wished to make any skill I
     possess the means of pecuniary advancement--and that my earnest
     desire is never to play for any stake but honor. My friends in
     New Orleans, however, subscribed a certain sum, without any
     countenance from me, and that sum has been ready for you to
     meet a considerable time past. Since my arrival in Paris I have
     been assured by numerous gentlemen that the value of those
     stakes can be immediately increased to any amount; but, for
     myself personally, reputation is the only incentive I
     recognize.

     The matter of seconds cannot, certainly, offer any difficulty.
     I had the pleasure of being first received in London by the St.
     George's Chess Club, of which you are so distinguished a
     member; and of those gentlemen I request the honor of
     appointing my seconds, to whom I give full authority in
     settling all preliminaries.

     In conclusion, I beg leave to state that I have addressed a
     copy of this letter to the editors of the _Illustrated London
     News_, _Bell's Life in London_, _The Era_, _The Field_, and
     _The Sunday Times_, being desirous that our true position
     should no longer be misunderstood by the community at large.
     Again requesting you to fix the date for our commencing the
     match,

    I have the honor to remain, sir,
      Your very humble servant,
        PAUL MORPHY.

[Illustration: MR. STAUNTON. MR. BODEN. HERR LÖWENTHAL.]

At the same time Mr. Morphy forwarded the following communication to the
Secretary of the St. George's, requesting the Club to appoint his seconds
in the match:--

     MORPHY'S LETTER TO THE ST. GEORGE'S CLUB.

                         T. HAMPTON, ESQ.,
                         _Secretary of the St. George's Chess Club_:

     SIR,--I beg respectfully to inform you that the New Orleans
     Chess Club has deposited £500 at the Banking House of Messrs.
     Heywood & Co., London: that sum being my proportion of the
     stakes in the approaching match with Mr. Staunton.

     I shall esteem it a great honor if the St. George's Chess Club
     will do me the favor of appointing my seconds in that contest.
     To such gentlemen as they may appoint I leave the settling of
     all preliminaries.

     May I request you to lay this communication before the members
     of the Club, and to oblige me with an early answer?

      I have the honor to remain, Sir,
        Your very humble and obed't serv't,
          PAUL MORPHY.

    CAFE DE LA REGENCE, PARIS, _Oct. 8th, 1858_.

It would be difficult to imagine a more respectful and kindly letter than
that to Mr. Staunton. Since Morphy's arrival in Europe he had considered
himself ill-used by that gentleman. His games had been annotated in an
inferentially depreciatory manner, his victories _accounted for_, and his
antagonists excused. He had been placed in a ridiculous light before the
public by the utterly false assertion that he had come to Europe to
challenge Mr. Staunton or any one else--_without a groat in his purse_.
And yet he never charges Mr. Staunton with being the author of the
falsehood, although Mr. S. is the known editor of the chess column of the
_Illustrated London News_. He positively invites explanation in the most
charitable and Christian-like manner; never even calling the statement in
question, as he might have done, a positive untruth, but politely
characterizing it as "not strictly in accordance with fact."

The _Illustrated London News_ did not immediately publish the letter, or
make any remark upon it, as did the other papers; but at the commencement
of the week, Paul Morphy received a private communication from Mr.
Staunton, as follows:--

     STAUNTON'S REPLY TO MORPHY.

                              LONDON, _October 9th, 1858_.

     SIR,--In reply to your letter, I have to observe that you must
     be perfectly conscious that the difficulty in the way of my
     engaging in a chess-match is one over which I have no control.
     You were distinctly apprised, in answer to the extraordinary
     proposal of your friends that I should leave my home, family,
     and avocations, to proceed to New Orleans for the purpose of
     playing chess with you, that a long and arduous contest, even
     in London, would be an undertaking too formidable for me to
     embark in without ample opportunity for the recovery of my old
     strength in play, together with such arrangements as would
     prevent the sacrifice of my professional engagements. Upon your
     unexpected arrival here, the same thing was repeated to you,
     and my acceptance of your challenge was entirely conditional on
     my being able to gain time for practice.

     The experience, however, of some weeks, during which I have
     labored unceasingly, to the serious injury of my health, shows
     that not only is it impracticable for me to save time for that
     purpose, but that by no means short of giving up a great work
     on which I am engaged, subjecting the publishers to the loss of
     thousands, and myself to an action for breach of contract,
     could I obtain time even for the match itself. Such a
     sacrifice is, of course, out of all question. A match at chess
     or cricket (_proh pudor!_ why don't he say, "or skittles"?) may
     be a good thing in its way, but none but a madman would for
     either forfeit his engagements and imperil his professional
     reputation. Under these circumstances, I waited only the
     termination of your late struggle (with Mr. Harrwitz) to
     explain that, fettered as I am at this moment, it is impossible
     for me to undertake any enterprise which would have the effect
     of withdrawing me from duties I am pledged to fulfil.

     The result is not, perhaps, what either you or I desired, as it
     will occasion disappointment to many; but it is unavoidable,
     and the less to be regretted, since a contest, wherein one of
     the combatants must fight under disadvantages so manifest as
     those I should have to contend against, after many years'
     retirement from practical chess, with my attention absorbed and
     my brain overtaxed by more important pursuits, could never be
     accounted a fair trial of skill.

        I have the honor to be,
          Yours, &c., H. STAUNTON.

    PAUL MORPHY, ESQ.

     P. S.--I may add that, although denied the satisfaction of a
     set encounter with you at this period, I shall have much
     pleasure, if you will again become my guest, in playing you a
     few games _sans façon_.

Now the sending of this private communication was a strange course for Mr.
Staunton to adopt. It seemed to be a bait for Morphy, in order that Mr. S.
might use his reply in the forthcoming article in the Illustrated London
News. The young American resolved that all the correspondence should be
public and above-board, and did not even acknowledge the receipt of the
letter. The Saturday following, Mr. Staunton gave as excuse for not
publishing Morphy's missive, the length of M.'s games, but promised it
and his own response "next week."

On Saturday the 24th of October, the two following effusions graced the
columns of _Bell's Life_. They had also been sent to _The Era_, _The
Field_, and _The Sunday Times_; but, being anonymous, and inclosing no
name or address, were refused admittance.

     ANONYMOUS LETTER, APPARENTLY FROM MR. STAUNTON.

                              TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE, _Oct. 9_.

     MR. EDITOR: If you enter any chess circle just now, the
     questions sure to be asked are, "How about the Staunton and
     Morphy match? Will it come off? Suspect Staunton wants to shirk
     it?" Now to these questions it is not always easy to give an
     answer, and yet they ought to be answered, so as to allow of no
     possible misconstruction amongst either friends or foes. There
     is one insinuation which may be very briefly disposed of,
     namely, that Mr. Staunton wishes to avoid playing. Every one
     who knows him is perfectly aware that he is only too ready to
     play at all times, and that at every disadvantage, rather than
     incur even the faintest suspicion of showing the white feather.
     For the benefit of those who have not the pleasure of knowing
     him, or whose memories are not over tenacious, I may cite as an
     example that in 1844, after vanquishing St. Amant, upon a hint
     in the French papers that his opponent had expressed a wish to
     have his revenge, Mr. S. at once started for Paris once more,
     and challenged him to the field; that from 1840 to 1848 Mr. S.
     played with every antagonist, foreign and English, that could
     be brought against him; and at the Chess Congress, in 1851, he
     rose superior to all personal considerations, and did not
     shrink from risking his hardly-earned reputation, when the
     state of his health was such that he felt he could not do
     himself justice; and all this solely that the tournament might
     not want the _éclat_ which his presence could confer upon it.
     But, sir, I would submit that this is not simply a question
     between Mr. Staunton and Mr. Morphy. We are all interested in
     it. Mr. Staunton is the representative of English chess, and
     must not be allowed to risk the national honor in an _unequal
     contest_, to gratify either the promptings of his own
     chivalrous disposition or the vanity of an antagonist. "Oh!
     then you admit that Morphy is the better player?" No such
     thing. The question is, not as to which is the better player,
     but whether, if they meet now, they can do so on equal terms.
     Now, I call it an _unequal contest_ when one player, in tiptop
     practice, with nothing to distract his attention, engages
     another who is quite out of play, and whose mind is harassed by
     the unceasing pressure of other and more important avocations.
     This is precisely Mr. Staunton's case. He is engaged, in
     addition to his customary occupations, upon a literary work of
     great responsibility and magnitude, which leaves him scarcely a
     moment for any other pursuit; certainly not for chess practice.
     Indeed, were it merely a question of time it would be almost
     impossible for Mr. Staunton to play a match at the present
     moment; but this is a matter of small importance compared with
     the mental strain which accompanies such incessant labor. There
     is nothing which requires more concentration of thought than
     chess. One moment of relaxed attention, and the fruits of the
     most profound combination are scattered to the winds. Real
     chess between two great players is no mere recreation, but a
     severe study, and should never be attempted when there is any
     thing else to claim the least share of that attention which
     alone can insure success. If Mr. Staunton can steal a few
     months from business, and devote himself wholly to chess, by
     all means let him do so, and then meet Mr. Morphy when and
     where he pleases, and I for one should have no fear for the
     result. If he cannot do this, I trust he will have moral
     courage to say "No." If not, his friends should say it for him.
     He is at least "Pawn and two" below his force of ten years
     back; and I repeat that he owes it to the English chess world,
     whose representative he is, not to meet Mr. Morphy at such
     odds, when he has every thing to lose and nothing to gain. In
     the present instance, moreover he is under not the slightest
     obligation to play, as Mr. Morphy gave him no intimation that
     he was coming over at this particular time, and I believe Mr.
     Staunton was not aware of his intention of so doing till he was
     actually _en route_; and it is certainly rather a heavy price
     to pay for the position which Mr. Staunton justly occupies if
     he is to be held bound to enter the lists with every young
     adventurer who has nothing else to do, and who happens to envy
     him the laurels so fairly won in many hundreds of encounters
     with nearly all the greatest players of the day. The result of
     any match which he might now play with Mr. Morphy would prove
     literally nothing as to their relative chess powers, and I am
     very unwilling to believe that the American would at all value
     a victory snatched under such circumstances.

    Yours obediently, M. A.

     P. S. Since writing the above my attention has been drawn to a
     letter in _Bell's Life_ addressed to Mr. Staunton by Mr.
     Morphy, in which the latter tries to assume the character of a
     much-injured and ill-used man. Now, how stands the case. From
     the time when he made his sudden appearance here to the present
     moment Mr. Morphy has been fully aware that the delay in the
     proposed contest did not depend upon Mr. Staunton, who, so far
     as he is personally concerned, was, and is, prepared to play;
     though it does not speak much for that man's sense of honor who
     would ever think of forcing on a contest when the inequality is
     so immense as it is between Mr. Morphy's position and that of
     Mr. Staunton--the one with literally nothing to do but to go
     where he lists to play chess, the other with scarcely time for
     sleep and meals, with his brain in a constant whirl with the
     strain upon it; the one in the very zenith of his skill, after
     ten years of incessant practice, the other utterly out of
     practice for that very period. Now, let any one read the reply
     of Mr. Staunton to the preposterous proposal on the part of Mr.
     Morphy's friends, that he (Mr. S.) should go over to New
     Orleans, and then say whether Mr. Morphy, after publicly
     announcing in the American papers his inability, from family
     engagements, to visit England before 1859, and then choosing
     to come over without a moment's warning, has anybody but
     himself to blame if he finds there is considerable difficulty
     in inducing a man with family cares, and immersed in
     professional engagements, to sacrifice all for the sake of
     engaging, upon the most unfair and unequal terms, in a match at
     chess? If Mr. Morphy does not see the force of what I have
     advanced, perhaps the following analogous case may bring
     conviction home to him. Let us suppose some ten or fifteen
     years have elapsed, and that Mr. Morphy, no longer a chess
     knight-errant, eager to do battle against all comers, has
     settled down into a steady-going professional man, (the bar, I
     believe, is his destination,) and with bewildered brain is
     endeavoring to unravel the intricacies of some half-dozen
     lawsuits put into his hands by clients, each of whom, in virtue
     of his fee, is profoundly impressed with the belief that Mr.
     Morphy belongs, body and soul, to him. Presently comes a rap at
     the door, and in walks a young man, fresh from school or
     college, and at once proceeds to explain the object of his
     visit, with:--"Mr. Morphy, I come to challenge you to a match
     at chess. I am aware that you are quite out of practice, while
     I am in full swing. I freely admit that you may have forgotten
     more than I am ever likely to know; that you have a reputation
     to lose, while I have one to gain; that you have not a moment
     you can call your own, whilst I have just now nothing in the
     world to occupy my attention but chess. _N'importe._ Every dog
     has his day. I expect you to play me at all costs. My seconds
     will wait upon you at once; and if you decline I shall placard
     you a craven through the length and breadth of the Union." How
     would Mr. Morphy reply to such a challenge? Very much, I
     suspect, as Mr. Staunton now replies to his:--"I have no
     apprehension of your skill; I am quite willing to meet you when
     I can, but I must choose my own time. I cannot put aside my
     professional engagements, to say nothing of the loss of
     emolument entailed by such a course, and risk my reputation as
     a chess-player at a moment's notice, just to gratify your
     ambition." In giving such an answer Mr. Morphy would do
     perfectly right, and this is precisely the answer which Mr.
     Staunton now gives to him. And why Mr. Morphy should feel
     himself aggrieved I cannot possibly imagine. There is one other
     point which I think deserves mention, namely that four years
     ago, on the occasion of his being challenged in a similar
     manner, Mr. Staunton put forth a final proposal to play any
     player in the world, and to pay his expenses for coming to
     England. This _defi_ remained open for six months, and he
     announced that if not taken up in that time he should hold
     himself exonerated in refusing any future challenges. I now
     leave the question in the hands of the public, who will, I
     doubt not, arrive at a correct appreciation of its merits.


     ANOTHER VERY DISGRACEFUL ANONYMOUS LETTER.

                              _To the Editor of Bell's Life_:

     MR. EDITOR,--It is a pity chess-players will not "wash their
     dirty linen at home." Among a few frivolous noodles to whom
     chess forms the staple of life, Mr. Morphy's jeremiads may
     assume an air of importance, but to sensible men they sound
     ineffably absurd, while to those who take the trouble of
     looking a little below the surface they appear something worse.
     For what are the plain facts of the case? Mr. Morphy started
     for England, not to play a match with Mr. Staunton, for he was
     told that that gentleman was too deeply immersed in business to
     undertake one, but to take part in a general tourney to be held
     in Birmingham. Upon arriving here he duly inscribed his name on
     the list of combatants, and paid his entrance fee. On hearing
     this, Mr. Staunton, in a spirit of what some may call chivalry,
     but which, looking at his utterly unprepared state for an
     encounter of this kind, ought more properly to be termed
     Quixotism, entered his name also. Well, what happened? On the
     mustering of the belligerents, Mr. Morphy, who had come six
     thousand miles to run a tilt in this tournament, _was not
     present_. In his place came a note to say particular business
     prevented his attendance. A message was despatched, intimating
     that his absence would be a great disappointment, &c., &c. His
     reply was, that, understanding neither Mr. S. nor any other of
     the leading players would take the field, he declined to do so.
     A second message was forwarded, to the effect that Mr. Staunton
     was then in Birmingham expressly to meet Mr. Morphy, and that
     he and several of the best players were awaiting Mr. M.'s
     arrival to begin the combats. To this came a final answer, to
     the effect that the length of time that the tourney would last
     prevented Mr. Morphy from joining in it, but he would run down
     in two or three days. Passing over the exquisite taste of this
     proceeding, and the disappointment and murmurs it occasioned, I
     would simply ask, if Mr. Morphy thought himself justified in
     withdrawing from a contest which he had come thousands of miles
     to take part in, and to which he was in a manner pledged, upon
     pretences so vague and flimsy, what right has he to complain if
     the English player choose to withdraw from one to which he is
     in no respect bound, and against which he may be enabled to
     offer the most solid and unanswerable objections? In asking
     this, I beg to disclaim all intention of provoking a
     chess-players' controversy, a thing in which the public take
     not the slightest interest, and for which I individually
     entertain supreme contempt. I am moved to it only by the spirit
     of FAIR PLAY.

    BIRMINGHAM.

To these communications the editor appended the following remarks:--

     [We print the above two letters, being all the communications
     we have received from Mr. Staunton's party relative to Morphy's
     letter in our last. We regret these lucubrations are anonymous,
     as not showing how far they really represent the opinions of
     Mr. Staunton himself and his friends on the subject. Regarding
     their style and phraseology Mr. Staunton may perhaps ask to be
     saved from his friends, but that is matter of taste. We shall
     feel bound to print brief replies from Paul Morphy's side.
     Inferiority once admitted, no matter from what cause, if Mr.
     Staunton takes the ground indicated in the above epistles, Mr.
     Morphy has but cheerfully and quietly to drop the subject, and
     will certainly as a gentleman never challenge Mr. Staunton
     again. Morphy's friends may still reasonably inquire why all
     this was not said in June last, instead of giving apparent
     acceptance to the young American's challenge.

     --EDITOR BELL'S LIFE.]

The reader will observe that Mr. Staunton (or his friends) is the first to
commence a newspaper war, probably under the impression that lengthy
_protocoling_ would sink the real question at issue, or induce Paul Morphy
to reply, and commit himself. But the latter saw too clearly what
eventualities might arise, and resolved that, in spite of all attacks, he
would never be drawn into discussion. In his letter to Mr. Staunton, no
point was raised on which to build dispute; Mr. S. was merely required to
say what date he fixed for the match. The most sensitive mind could not be
hurt with any thing in the letter, and yet "Fair Play" talks of "Mr.
Morphy's jeremiads appearing something worse than ineffably absurd." "M.
A.'s" lucubration did not obtain admittance into any other paper, but
"Fair Play's" shone resplendently in the columns of the _Illustrated
London News_. I have not learned who "Fair Play" is; nor do I wish to
know.

When a man's course is straightforward and courageous, he will always find
defenders, and sometimes, ardent partisans. Morphy's unassuming modesty
had made him friends in every chess community, men who were ready to
battle for him as though it were their own quarrel. Hitherto, not a word
had been said by, or for, Morphy in the press, and he was determined not
to seek succor from that source. The ensuing Saturday the following
letters appeared in Bell's Life, the first being from a friend of our
hero, well acquainted with the circumstances of the case; and the others
from prominent members of the metropolitan chess circles.

     LETTER FROM A FRIEND OF PAUL MORPHY.

     _To the Editor of Bell's Life in London_:

     SIR,--Two letters appeared in your paper of last Sunday, one
     with the signature of "M. A.," the other of "Fair Play." In
     justice to fact, those communications must not remain
     unanswered, as the misstatements they contain might perchance
     mislead some as to the good faith of Mr. Morphy. It is in no
     improper spirit that I appear before your readers under my own
     name, but simply because, as I intend replying to your
     anonymous correspondents with facts, not with hypotheses, I
     think I am bound in honor to hold myself responsible for what I
     advance. The chess players of London and Birmingham are not
     ignorant of the intimacy with which Mr. Morphy has honored me
     during his visit to Europe, and they will permit me to state,
     that no one is better conversant with the facts bearing on the
     case in point than your subscriber. Were it not that Paul
     Morphy positively refuses to reply to any attack upon himself,
     preferring that his actions should be the sole witness to his
     faith, I should not have troubled you or the public with this
     communication.

     On the 4th of last February, the New Orleans Chess Club
     challenged Mr. Staunton to visit the Crescent City, "to meet
     Mr. Paul Morphy in a chess match." On the 3d of April the
     former gentleman replied to this _defi_ in the _Illustrated
     London News_, in the following language:--"The terms of this
     cartel are distinguished by extreme courtesy, and, with one
     notable exception, by extreme liberality also. The exception in
     question, however, (we refer to the clause which stipulates
     that the combat shall take place in New Orleans!) appears to us
     utterly fatal to the match; and we must confess our
     astonishment that the intelligent gentlemen who drew up the
     conditions did not themselves discover this. Could it possibly
     escape their penetration, that if Mr. Paul Morphy, a young
     gentleman without family ties or professional claims upon his
     attention, finds it inconvenient to anticipate by a few months
     an intended visit to Europe, his proposed antagonist, who is
     well known for years to have been compelled, by laborious
     literary occupation, to abandon the practice of chess beyond
     the indulgence of an occasional game, must find it not merely
     inconvenient, but positively impracticable, to cast aside all
     engagements, and undertake a journey of many thousand miles for
     the sake of a chess encounter. Surely the idea of such a
     sacrifice is not admissible for a single moment. If Mr.
     Morphy--for whose skill we entertain the liveliest
     admiration--be desirous to win his spurs among the chess
     chivalry of Europe, he must take advantage of his proposed
     visit next year; he will then meet in this country, in France,
     in Germany, and in Russia, many champions whose names must be
     as household words to him, ready to test and do honor to his
     prowess."

     No one would regard the above observations as tantamount to
     aught else than "If you will come to Europe I will play you;"
     but we are relieved from the difficulty of discovering Mr.
     Staunton's real meaning by his reiterated declarations that he
     would play Mr. Morphy. Within a few days of the latter's
     arrival in London, the English player stated his intention of
     accepting the match, but postponed the commencement of it for a
     month, on the plea of requiring preparation. In the month of
     July the acceptance of the challenge was announced in the
     _Illustrated London News_. Before the expiration of the time
     demanded in the first instance, Mr. Staunton requested that the
     contest should not take place until after the Birmingham
     meeting. At Birmingham he again declared his intention of
     playing the match, and fixed the date for the first week in
     November, in the presence of numerous witnesses. Mr. Morphy
     may have erred in believing that his antagonist intended to act
     as his words led him to suppose, but it was an error shared in
     common by every one then present, and particularly by Lord
     Lyttelton, the President of the British Chess Association, who
     recognized the true position of the case in his speech to the
     association, stating that he "wished him (Mr. Morphy) most
     cordially success in his encounters with the celebrated players
     of Europe, whom he had gallantly left home to meet; he should
     be pleased to hear that he vanquished all--except one; but that
     one--Mr. Staunton--he must forgive him, as an Englishman, for
     saying he hoped he would conquer him."--(Report of Birmingham
     meeting, _Illustrated London News_, Sept. 18, 1858.

     So firmly convinced were the members of Mr. S.'s own club, the
     St. George's, that he had accepted the challenge, that a
     committee was formed, and funds raised to back him. What those
     gentlemen must now think of Mr. Staunton's evasion of the match
     can easily be understood; but so strong was the conviction in
     other chess circles that he would not play, that large odds
     were offered to that effect.

     "M. A.'s" reasons for not playing, or "M. A.'s" reasons for Mr.
     Staunton's not playing--a distinction without a difference, as
     we shall hereafter show--is that "he is engaged upon a literary
     work of great responsibility and magnitude." Did not this
     reason exist prior to Mr. Morphy's arrival in June? and if so,
     why were Mr. Morphy, the English public, and the chess
     community generally, led into the belief that the challenge was
     accepted? And what did Mr. Staunton mean by stating at
     Birmingham, in the presence of Lord Lyttelton, Mr. Avery, and
     myself, that if the delay until November were granted him, he
     could in the mean while supply his publishers with sufficient
     matter, so as to devote himself subsequently to the match?

     Mr. Staunton's (I mean "M. A.'s") remark in the letter under
     review, "I (Staunton or 'M. A.' indifferently) have no
     apprehension of your skill," is hardly consonant with the
     previous observation, that "he (Staunton) is at least pawn and
     two below his force," unless the
     "English-chess-world-representative" wishes it to be understood
     that he could offer those odds to Paul Morphy. Nor is it
     consonant with the fact that he has never consented to play Mr.
     Morphy a single game, though asked to do so, and when
     frequently meeting him at St. George's. Of course the two
     consultation games played by him, in alliance with "Alter,"
     against Messrs. Barnes and Morphy count for nothing, as they
     were gained by the latter; a result due, doubtless, to "Alter"
     alone.

     Mr. Morphy, in the eyes of the chess world, can have nothing to
     gain from a contest with this gentleman. When Mr. Staunton has
     met even players such as Anderssen, Heyderbrandt, and
     Löwenthal, he has succumbed; whilst his youthful antagonist can
     cite a roll of victories unparalleled since Labourdonnais. And
     herein is the true reason for "M. A.'s" saying, "Staunton must
     not be allowed to risk the national honor (?) in an unequal
     contest."

     In wishing "M. A." adieu, I would state that his style of
     composition is so like Mr. Staunton's that no one could detect
     the difference. And no one but Mr. Staunton himself would ever
     set up such a defence as "M. A.'s"--that of inferiority, "Pawn
     and two below his strength," &c. &c. And no one but Mr.
     Staunton could have such intimate knowledge of his own thoughts
     as we find in the following verbatim quotations from "M. A.'s"
     letter: "The state of his health was such that he felt he could
     not do himself justice"--"his mind harassed"--"the other
     (Staunton) with scarcely time for sleep and meals, with his
     brain in a constant whirl with the strain upon it." In the
     language of Holy Writ: "No man can know the spirit of man, but
     the spirit of man which is in him."

     Served up in a mass of foul language, the letter signed "Fair
     Play," contains an obviously untrue assertion, namely, "Mr.
     Morphy started for Europe, not to play a match with Mr.
     Staunton." This is rather outrageous in the face of the
     challenge from the New Orleans Chess Club, and with Mr. S.'s
     reply in the _Illustrated London News_ of April 3d. So much was
     it Mr. Morphy's desire to play him, and so little his
     intention to engage in the Birmingham Tournament, that he
     informed the secretary he did not regard such a contest as any
     true test of skill.

     To sum up the whole matter, I will state the naked facts.

     1. Mr. Morphy came to Europe to play Mr. Staunton.

     2. Mr. Staunton made everybody believe he had accepted the
     challenge from Mr. Morphy.

     3. Mr. Staunton allowed the St. George's Chess Club to raise
     the money to back him.

     4. Mr. Staunton asked for a delay of one month, in order to
     brush up his openings and endings.

     5. Mr. Staunton requested a postponement until after the
     Birmingham meeting.

     6. Mr. Staunton fixed the beginning of November for the
     commencement of the match.

     If all this do not mean "I will play," then is there no meaning
     in language. I beg to subscribe myself, Mr. Editor, most
     respectfully yours,

    FREDERICK MILNS EDGE.
    HOTEL BRETEUIL, PARIS, _Oct. 20, 1858_.

The next epistle is from the pen of a former colleague of Mr. Staunton,--a
gentleman whose literary articles in the _Chess Players' Chronicle_ have
earned world-wide notoriety. In the case under examination, he dissects
Mr. Staunton's procedures with the skill of an able anatomist.

     LETTER FROM A COADJUTOR OF MR. STAUNTON.

     _To the Editor of Bell's Life_:--

     SIR,--In the few remarks that you have appended to the letters
     respecting Mr. Morphy's proposed match with Mr. Staunton you
     have dealt satisfactorily with the whole matter. The letters
     may be considered under two heads, one of which does not refer
     to, the other is written upon, the actual subject. That a few
     lines should be devoted _not_ to the merits of the case will
     not surprise your readers, when they remember that, prejudice
     being created against, or in favor of, a particular
     chess-player, questions are not viewed in their true light;
     still less will they be surprised when I take this opportunity
     of doing justice to Anderssen, who is indirectly alluded to in
     one of the letters. Your Cambridge correspondent ridicules the
     notion of any evasion of play on the part of Mr. Staunton. His
     virtue, even approaching a fault, has been the continual search
     after a match. He resought St. Amant after defeating him, he
     exposed himself to every one for eight years, and thus earned
     two characters, one that of the chivalrous paladin, the other
     that of the representative of English chess. I wonder that an
     intelligent writer, such as your correspondent is, should not
     have traced the distinction between resuming play against
     antagonists already beaten, or likely to be beaten, and
     commencing matches with really powerful combatants. I wonder,
     also, that he did not inform your readers that at the time at
     which St. Amant played with Mr. Staunton, the former, excellent
     as he was, received odds from Des Chapelles, who was out of
     play; I wonder that, as if with perfect knowledge, he could
     write upon such a chess match without alluding to Des
     Chapelles' celebrated criticism on the Staunton-St. Amant
     games, a criticism which, published in the _Berliner
     Schachzeitung_ of 1848, puts both players in their true places.
     I wonder, again, that he should not have summed up Mr. S.'s
     subsequent victories in two contests, one with Hörwitz, the
     other with Harrwitz. I wonder that he should not have told us
     that Hörwitz publicly announced his inferiority to Der Lasa and
     Hanstein, and that Harrwitz _at the time mentioned_ received P
     and two moves, but in the same year defeated Hörwitz, the very
     player upon whose defeat, on even terms, Mr. S.'s reputation
     mainly depended after his match with St. Amant. Another
     instance of Mr. Staunton's chivalry is, says your
     correspondent, an offer to "play any player in the world, and
     to pay his expenses for coming to England." The best answer to
     this is to quote the actual conditions of the challenge
     propounded by Sir G. Stephen on Mr. S.'s behalf in 1853: "1. If
     the acceptor of the challenge be resident abroad, the stake on
     each side shall not be less than £250. 2. If the challenge is
     taken up by a player resident in this country, the amount of
     stake shall be from £100 to £150. 3. That the match be played
     at a private hotel," etc. After the proposal, Mr. Staunton gave
     it meaning in a public speech (_Chess Players' Chronicle_,
     1853)--"The challenge was intended for Anderssen's acceptance.
     The £250 was to cover travelling expenses in a foreign
     country." Now I wish to ask your correspondent is there here
     any offer to pay a competitor's expenses? Or will he read it as
     others do? "I name £100 for men whom I do not fear, but £250
     for Anderssen, whom, as he beat me in 1851, I _wish_ to play
     with. Nominally, the larger sum will cover his expenses, but as
     I intend to win, he will practically have to find £250, his
     expenses, and the bill at a private hotel, simply to give me,
     the chivalrous Bayard, my revenge?" After this I trust that we
     shall not hear of chivalry in offering to pay the expenses of a
     competitor. "M. A.," as a Cambridge man, may be asked whether
     Mr. S.'s engagement "on a work of great magnitude" (I quote his
     own words) is equal to Anderssen's mathematical and
     philological labors? But Mr. S. is the representative of
     English chess. By whose election is he "_divinæ particula
     auræ_?" Des Chapelles was then irreverent, and I am an
     iconoclast. Is he self-elected? Then away with parliaments and
     associations of chess, and their self-elected speaker,
     "Fairplay." I never yet heard of a man calling himself the
     representative of any thing English, if he will not carry out
     his representation. I have heard of champions of the river
     retiring. I have seen them row, and take a beating manfully. I
     know that Lewis, Fraser, Slous, Walker, etc., gave up difficult
     chess. I never yet heard of half and half play. Either a man
     pretends to represent English chess, or he does not. If he
     makes his claim, whether self-elected or not, he must play (a
     representative, however ignorant, gives his vote in the House
     of Commons), if not, he may retire into private life. Morphy
     may reply to your correspondent and to his coryphæus at the
     same time--"I have played for ten years. I am not 21, but am
     prepared to play the best European masters now. If I am
     challenged when I have taken up another pursuit I will not do
     one thing. I will not accept a challenge, and months after not
     carry out my acceptance. I will not, after long delay, name
     even the day for commencing the match, and then have no idea of
     playing. True it is that you may not fairly represent English
     chess. Two British players separated Anderssen from you in
     1851, but, Williams being dead, Mr. Wyvill not playing matches,
     and you still claiming priority in Anglo-Saxon chess, I, an
     Anglo-Saxon, on behalf of the race that speaks the same
     language, ask you, will you maintain or resign your claim?"
     This is true reasoning. The contest, "M. A." assures us, would
     be unequal. Mr. S. is P and two moves below his strength, yet
     he represents English play. Where, then, are the even players,
     where the P and move men? Is the fragrance of the P and two
     moves so refreshing, that the P and move must not be classed
     amongst our British roses? Des Chapelles tells us that Philidor
     classed Legalle as a player on even terms, Verdoni as one to
     receive pawn for the move, Bernard, Carlier, etc., as P and
     move players. I think better of English chess players than to
     claim, with "M. A.," our representative in a P and two moves
     player. Your Cambridge correspondent will pardon me for
     attempting to refute his positions. From the style of his
     letter I am convinced that, had he equal experience, he would
     write much the same as I have done. "Fairplay's" letter may
     soon be dismissed; his argument is, that Mr. Morphy came to
     Europe not to play Mr. Staunton (who had previously refused, F.
     P. should have added, "to play in America," not in England),
     but to take part in the tournament held by the Chess
     Association at Birmingham; that he did not play there, sending
     different answers for his non-appearance; and, assuming this to
     be a fault, that therefore any one may commit the same fault,
     if he can give better reasons for the commission. In answer to
     this, Mr. Morphy did not come to Europe to play at Birmingham,
     but to test his strength with the cis-Atlantic players. It
     reads almost like a joke, when a man writes seriously from
     Birmingham to inform us that Morphy came 6000 miles to play the
     first two or first three games, especially when every one in
     London has known for more than three months that he came to
     play long set matches. What was Mr. M.'s behavior? He came to
     England in June, and visited Birmingham directly. He had been
     offered £70 as a retaining fee on account of the distance
     travelled by him (similarly Anderssen, Staunton, etc., received
     retaining fees in 1857), but refused the offer, making, with
     characteristic generosity, such excuses as "he had not received
     the Birmingham letters," and that "the meeting was adjourned
     for two months." In other words, Mr. Morphy, giving up all
     pecuniary claim, practically paid _nearly seven-eighths of the
     prizes offered to public competition_. Hence he did not take
     part in the little contests at Birmingham. He civilly assented
     to the alteration of time--he civilly left Löwenthal, whom he
     had beaten in a set match, a chance of gaining the first
     prize--he civilly gave answers to telegraphic messages,
     answers--I regret here that they were more polite than
     exact--that meant the same thing, "I leave the contest to
     others." If these replies did not--as short telegraphic
     messages cannot--express Mr. M.'s meaning, it does not become
     those who profited by his chivalry to write in the style of
     "Fairplay;" and I am sure that the Birmingham local committee
     would be the first to gainsay the latter's statement. _He_ must
     be satisfied, at all events, as Löwenthal, just beaten by
     Morphy, met Mr. Staunton, whom he was anxious to see pitted
     against the young American, and won, thereby saving criticism
     as to "What was, might be, or could be." What "will be," we
     shall see. Mr. M. went to Birmingham simply to get Mr. S. to
     name, _in the presence of others_, a day for commencing the
     proposed match. Then and there Mr. S. named the 1st of
     November. A representative of Englishmen should give either a
     _bona fide_ acceptance or a refusal. Morphy's motto is "Play,
     not talk." He comes and goes to foreign countries to seek play.
     He is the "_Il Puttino_" of the New World. At the risk, then,
     sir, of being called a "frivolous noodle" by your very elegant
     correspondent "Fairplay," I shall take the liberty of believing
     what an honest man like Morphy says. I shall not hold Staunton
     to be the representative of English chess, but shall look to
     younger and more consistent players as far more likely to
     maintain what your correspondents call the national honor, and
     am, sir, your obedient servant,

    AN ENGLISH CHESS PLAYER.

    EAST SHEEN, _Oct. 21, 1858_.

The next two letters, also to the editor of _Bell's Life in London_, do
not profess to argue the question, but are merely _argumenta ad hominum_.
They serve to show how warm a feeling in his favor Mr. Morphy had evoked
amongst the fellow-countrymen of Mr. Staunton.

     _To the Editor of Bell's Life_:

     MR. EDITOR: The general opinion of English chess players is
     simply that Staunton is afraid of Morphy. If, as his friends
     say, he is out of condition, let him train, or give up the
     championship like a man. No one would blame him, at his age and
     with his avocation, for declining severe matches; but in that
     case he must resign the belt into fresher hands. The champion
     ceases to be the champion when he is no longer able or willing
     to take up whatever gauntlet is flung down. Let the chivalrous
     boy who has crossed the Atlantic to challenge the chess of the
     Old World have fair play at the hands of Englishmen. If we
     cannot beat him fairly, let us not seek to put him off with
     shabby dodges.

    Yours, &c.
    THE EX-PRESIDENT OF PROVINCIAL CHESS CLUB.
    _Oct. 20th_.

This is sound, straightforward, English common sense.

     _To the Editor of Bell's Life_:--

     MR. EDITOR: Mr. Staunton either is, or is not, the chess
     champion of England, ready to defend his "belt" against all
     comers. If he _be_ the champion, he has _no right_ to plead
     "want of practice," "literary avocations," or such like
     excuses, for "_semper paratus_" must be a "champion's" motto.
     If he be _not_ the champion, why then did he hold himself out
     as such by inviting or accepting Mr. Morphy's challenge? Why
     did he not say at the first, "I _was_ the champion of England
     some years ago, but (_solve senescentem_) I am not so now; I am
     only a private gentleman, engaged in literary pursuits, and so
     forth." His true position would then have been clearly
     understood, and I am sure Mr. Morphy would never have sought to
     disturb his retirement. But will the English chess-playing
     public allow Mr. Staunton to put in this plea _after all that
     has passed_, and after all his declarations of willingness to
     play? I trust, sir, that, if such an excuse be allowed, at
     least we shall have the candor to acknowledge ourselves fairly
     vanquished, and not pretend that we have escaped defeat because
     we have "prudently" declined the contest. We must be on our
     guard for the future how we proclaim as our "champion" a
     gentleman who "retires into private life" the moment a
     formidable rival appears.

    Yours, &c.,
      SCHACK.

The week following the publication of the above letters, Mr. Staunton
published in the _Illustrated London News_ PART of Mr. Morphy's
communication, with the private answer sent a fortnight before. The
paragraph in the former, relating to Mr. S.'s iniquitous statement of
Morphy's arriving in Europe without funds, was entirely ignored, and that,
too, in the face of its having been given _in extenso_ two weeks
previously by four weekly London papers, and a copy sent to his
editor-in-chief. _Quos Deus vult perdere, prius dementat_ was never more
thoroughly exemplified, and the course pursued proves incontestably that
Mr. Staunton possesses a certain kind of courage which does not stick at
trifles. Was it presumable that a man of his experience would dare to
commit such an unwarrantable act, or did he think that Mr. Morphy would
pass over, in silence, such a suppression?

The animus was now evident. Mr. Staunton had never awarded that praise to
the young American's contests which every other chess editor and player in
England and Europe had invariably bestowed: still, no action could be
taken on this. Mr. Staunton had continually postponed the commencement of
the match: no handle to take hold of was offered here, since he had, as
continually, asserted his desire to play. Mr. Staunton had announced that
the stakes were reduced from £1,000 a side to £500 at Mr. Morphy's
request; his antagonist was still silent. Mr. Staunton had published a
knowingly untrue statement, and, when the sufferer complains in such
manner as to afford him the utmost latitude for explanation and apology,
he cancels the paragraph, and does not even deign to refer to it in his
reply. Mr. Staunton caps the climax by declining finally to play the
match. Thus Mr. Staunton's response to the New Orleans Chess Club, _so far
as he was concerned_, meant nothing. His acceptance of Morphy's challenge
in London, and the statement in his paper that the match would come off,
meant nothing. His postponements meant nothing. His declarations before
Lord Lyttelton and other gentlemen, at Birmingham, meant nothing.

Thus there was apparently an end to the whole matter. But an eventuality
presented itself:--Mr. Staunton had shown himself capable of perverting
facts to his own benefit, and might he not assert ultimately that Mr.
Morphy was the cause of the match not taking place? Could he not, too, at
the moment our hero was quitting Europe, declare his readiness to play,
knowing that Morphy must be off? He had so acted towards Herr Anderssen
after the tournament in 1851, declaring that "the German saw fit to
leave," although he was well aware that the Professor's collegiate duties
at Breslau rendered it impossible for him to stay in England and play the
proposed match. Paul Morphy therefore closed up every avenue of eventual
misrepresentation, by the following address to Lord Lyttelton, in his
official quality of President of the National Association of English
Chess-players:

     MORPHY'S APPEAL TO THE BRITISH CHESS ASSOCIATION.

     _To the Right Hon. Lord Lyttelton, President of the British
     Chess Association:_

     MY LORD,--On the 4th of last February the Chess Club of New
     Orleans gave a challenge to your countryman, Mr. Howard
     Staunton, to visit that city and engage in a match at chess
     with me. On the 3d of April Mr. Staunton replied to this _défi_
     in the _Illustrated London News_, characterizing the terms of
     the cartel as "being distinguished by extreme courtesy," but
     objecting to so long a journey for such a purpose, and
     engaging me "to anticipate by a few months an intended voyage
     to Europe." Believing that "a journey of many thousand miles"
     was the only obstacle in the way of our meeting, I made
     immediate preparation, and, within two months, I had the
     pleasure of repeating the challenge personally in the rooms of
     the St. George's Chess Club. I need scarcely assure you, my
     lord, that Mr. Staunton enjoys a reputation in the United
     States unsurpassed by that of any player in Europe since the
     death of Labourdonnais, and I felt highly honored when he
     accepted my challenge, merely requesting a lapse of one month
     for the purpose of preparing himself for the encounter. Within
     a short period subsequently, Mr. Staunton obtained my consent
     to a postponement until after the annual meeting of the British
     Chess Association. A week prior to that event I addressed him
     in the following terms:--

     "DEAR SIR,--As we are now approaching the Birmingham meeting,
     at the termination of which you have fixed our match to
     commence, I think it would be advisable to settle the
     preliminaries during this week. Would you be good enough to
     state some early period when your seconds can meet mine, so
     that a contest which I have so much at heart, and which from
     your eminent position excites so much interest in the chess
     world, may be looked upon as a _fait accompli_.--I am, dear
     sir, yours very respectfully, PAUL MORPHY."

     Not receiving a satisfactory reply to this communication, I
     again wrote Mr. Staunton as follows:--

     "DEAR SIR,--I must first apologise for not replying to your
     previous communication. As you observe, my numerous contests
     must be the excuse for my remissness.

     "It is certainly a high compliment to so young a player as
     myself that you, whose reputation in the chess arena has been
     unapproached during so many long years, should require any
     preparation for our match. Immediately on my arrival in
     England, some two months since, I spoke to you in reference to
     our contest, and, in accepting the challenge, you stated that
     you should require some time to prepare, and you proposed a
     period for commencing, which I accepted.

     "I am well aware that your many engagements in the literary
     world must put you to some inconvenience in meeting me, and I
     am therefore desirous to consult your wishes in every respect.
     Would you please state the earliest opportunity when those
     engagements will permit the match coming off, such time being
     consistent with your previous preparation?

     "The 'few weeks' referred to in your favor seem to be rather
     vague, and I shall feel highly gratified by your fixing a
     definite period for the contest. _I leave the terms entirely to
     yourself._--I remain, dear sir, yours very respectfully,

    "PAUL MORPHY."

     Mr. Staunton left London for Birmingham without deigning to
     reply.

     I attended the annual meeting of the Association for the
     express purpose of requesting a definite period for commencing
     the match. In the presence of your lordship and other
     gentlemen, Mr. Staunton fixed that commencement for the
     forepart of November, promising that he would inform me of the
     precise date within a few days. I heard nothing further from
     him on the subject. Your lordship will have remarked from the
     above that Mr. Staunton has thus obtained three separate and
     distinct postponements.

     The approach of November induced me to again address Mr.
     Staunton, which I did on the 6th of the present month. As my
     letter was published in numerous London journals, and was also
     sent to the editor-in-chief of the _Illustrated London News_, I
     had a right to expect a public answer, particularly as I had
     complained of a false and damaging statement in the chess
     department of that paper. On the 16th Mr. Staunton stated
     editorially that--

     "Mr. Morphy's games this week exclude both his letter and Mr.
     Staunton's reply. If we can spare space for them they shall be
     given in the next number."

     On the 9th inst., within a short time of receiving my letter,
     Mr. Staunton replied to me _privately_. As my communication was
     a public one, I was somewhat surprised at the course pursued by
     a gentleman holding such a position as Mr. Staunton, and did
     not, therefore, even acknowledge receipt, fearing that I might
     thereby be induced unintentionally to commit myself. Having
     promised my letter and his reply, Mr. Staunton published what
     he represents as such in the _Illustrated London News_ of the
     23d inst. He has thereby transferred the question from the
     chess arena to the bar of public opinion, and as a stranger in
     a foreign land--a land which has ever been the foremost in
     hospitality--I claim justice from Englishmen.

     The most important portion of my letter Mr. Staunton has dared
     to suppress. I refer to the following paragraph, published by
     various journals, but omitted by the _Illustrated London News_,
     although sent to the editor of that paper as well as to Mr.
     Staunton himself:--

     "A statement appeared in the chess department of that journal a
     few weeks since, that 'Mr. Morphy had come to Europe unprovided
     with backers or seconds,' the inference being obvious--that my
     want of funds was the reason of our match not taking place. As
     you are the editor of that department of the _Illustrated
     London News_, I felt hurt that a gentleman who had always
     received me at his club and elsewhere with great kindness and
     courtesy, should allow so prejudicial a statement to be made in
     reference to me; one, too, which is not strictly in accordance
     with fact."

     On my first arriving in England, I informed Mr. Staunton that
     my stakes would be forthcoming the moment he desired, and I was
     therefore utterly at a loss to account for so unwarrantable a
     statement being made in reference to me, unless with the
     intention of compromising my position before the public. And I
     would ask your lordship's attention to the terms of the
     suppressed paragraph, couched in such language as to avoid all
     insinuation of animus, and affording Mr. Staunton the amplest
     opportunity for explaining away the difficulty. The course
     pursued by that gentleman cannot do otherwise than justify me
     in ascribing to him the very worst of motives in publishing
     what he knew to be incorrect, in denying me common justice, and
     in giving as the whole of my letter _what he knew to be only a
     part of it_.

     From Mr. Staunton I now appeal to the great body of English
     chess players, I appeal to the British Chess Association, I
     appeal to yourself, my lord, as the _Mæcenas_ of English chess;
     and, as I visited your country for the purpose of challenging
     Mr. Staunton, which challenge he has repeatedly accepted, I now
     demand of you that you shall declare to the world it is through
     no fault of mine that this match has not taken place.--I have
     the honor to remain, my lord, yours very respectfully,

    PAUL MORPHY.
    CAFE DE LA REGENCE, PARIS, _October 26, 1858_.

To this appeal, Lord Lyttelton made the following admirable reply, which
covers the whole ground:--

     LORD LYTTELTON ON HOWARD STAUNTON.

                                   BODMIN, CORNWALL, _3d November_.

     DEAR SIR:--I much regret that I have been unable till to-day to
     reply to your letter of the 26th October, which only reached me
     on the 1st inst. With regard to the appeal which you have made
     to the British Chess Association, I may perhaps be allowed to
     say, as its President, that I fear nothing can be done about
     the matter in question by that body. It is one of recent and
     rather imperfect organization; its influence is not yet fully
     established. It is practically impossible to procure any
     effective meeting of its members at present, and it is doubtful
     whether it could take any step in the matter if it were to
     meet. I must therefore be understood as writing in my private
     character alone, but, at the same time, you are welcome, should
     you think it worth while (which I can hardly think it can be),
     to make further use of this letter, in any manner you may wish.

     Your letter has but one professed object; that we should
     declare that it is not your fault that the match between
     yourself and Mr. Staunton has not taken place. To this the
     reply might be made in two words. I cannot conceive it possible
     that any one should impute that failure to you, nor am I aware
     that any one has done so. But, in the circumstances, I shall
     not perhaps be blamed, if I go somewhat further into the
     matter. In the general circumstances of the case, I conceive
     that Mr. Staunton was quite justified in declining the match.
     The fact is understood that he has for years been engaged in
     labors which must, whatever arrangements might be made, greatly
     interfere with his entering into a serious contest with a
     player of the highest force and in constant practice, and so
     far the failure of the match is the less to be regretted. Nor
     can I doubt the correctness of his recent statement, that the
     time barely necessary for the match itself could not be spared,
     without serious loss and inconvenience both to others and to
     himself.

     But I cannot but think that in all fairness and
     considerateness, Mr. Staunton might have told you of this long
     before he did. I know no reason why he might not have
     ascertained it, and informed you of it in answer to your first
     letter from America. Instead of this, it seems to me plain,
     both as to the interview at which I myself was present, and as
     to all the other communications which have passed, that Mr.
     Staunton gave you every reason to suppose that he would be
     ready to play the match within no long time. I am not aware,
     indeed (nor do I perceive that you have said it), that you left
     America _solely_ with the view of playing Mr. Staunton. It
     would, no doubt, make the case stronger, but it seems to me as
     unlikely as that you should have come, as has been already
     stated (anonymously, and certainly not with Mr. Staunton's
     concurrence), in order to attend the Birmingham Tournament.

     With regard to the suppressions of part of your last letter, I
     must observe, that I am not aware how far Mr. Staunton is
     responsible for what appears in the _Illustrated London News_.
     But whoever is responsible for that suppression, I must say,
     that I cannot see how it is possible to justify or excuse it.

     I greatly regret the failure of a contest which would have been
     of much interest, and the only one, as I believe, which could
     have taken place with you, with any chance of its redounding to
     the credit of this country. I still more regret that any
     annoyance or disappointment should have been undergone by one,
     who--as a foreigner--from his age, his ability, and his conduct
     and character, is eminently entitled to the utmost
     consideration in the European countries which he may visit.

    I am, dear sir, yours truly,
      LYTTELTON.

    PAUL MORPHY, ESQ.

Mr. Morphy could not do otherwise than avail himself of the permission
accorded him by Lord Lyttelton, to publish so full a justification. He
thus put himself right on the record, and prevented any further
misrepresentation. Numerous clubs in the United Kingdom took action upon
the letter, and the following resolution of the Manchester Chess Club--one
of the most influential in the country--shows what was the general feeling
upon the subject.

     RESOLUTION OF THE MANCHESTER CHESS CLUB.

     At a special meeting, called in compliance with a requisition
     numerously signed, it was resolved--

     "That this meeting, while recognizing Mr. Staunton's right to
     decline any chess challenge which he might find inconvenient
     and incompatible with his other engagements, deems it proper
     (inasmuch as Lord Lyttelton has only felt himself at liberty to
     answer, in his private capacity, Mr. Morphy's appeal to him as
     President of the British Chess Association) to declare its full
     concurrence in the opinion expressed by Lord Lyttelton in his
     letter to Mr. Morphy, of the 3d inst., that in all fairness and
     considerateness Mr. Staunton should have told Mr. Morphy, long
     before he did, that he declined the proposed match.

     "That copies of this resolution be sent to Mr. Morphy, Mr.
     Staunton, and the editor of the _Illustrated London News._"

     _17th November, 1858._

Mr. Staunton was able to cite but one instance of an association
sufficiently hardy to oppose its opinion to the verdict of Lord Lyttelton.
A select circle of Mr. S.'s friends, the close-borough Cambridge
University Chess Club, ventured the following resolutions, which were
forwarded for publication to several journals, as a would-be antidote to
that of the Manchester Club.

     RESOLUTIONS OF THE CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY CHESS CLUB.

     At a meeting of the Cambridge University Chess Club, held
     November 26, 1858, the following resolutions were passed
     unanimously:

     "That the Cambridge University Chess Club, recognizing the
     important services rendered by Mr. Staunton to the cause of
     chess, and seeing with regret the ungenerous attacks which have
     for some time past been directed against him by a certain
     section of the press, notorious for its anti-English
     tendencies, are of opinion

     "1. That under the peculiar circumstances in which Mr. Staunton
     found himself placed, it was scarcely possible for him to do
     otherwise than decline the proposed match with Mr. Morphy.

     "2. That his allowing the challenge to remain open so long as
     there appeared the slightest hope of his being able to play,
     was, beyond all question, the proper course to be adopted by
     one really anxious for the encounter."

I cannot do better than give the remarks upon the above resolutions by the
"Era" newspaper; they make mince-meat of the Cantabs' reasonings. The
"Era" answers thus:--

     THE "ERA'S" REMARKS.

     "It will be seen that the Cambridge University Chess Club
     constitutes itself the champion of Mr. Staunton against
     "ungenerous attacks directed against him by a section of the
     press, notorious for its anti-English tendencies." We wish the
     Cambridge gentlemen had pointed out the section they refer to.
     We were not aware that chess was of any country, or that there
     were any anti-English tendencies in connection with it. The
     fact is, that the section of the metropolitan chess press,
     conducted by foreigners who have made their homes in England,
     has hitherto refrained from expressing any judgment in the
     dispute, contenting itself with giving the letters ungarbled
     and unmutilated; but in chess columns, conducted by Englishmen,
     have appeared the remarks pointed at by the Cambridge Club; so
     here we have the anomaly of anti-English Englishmen. With
     regard to the resolutions which follow the preamble, it is
     impossible to cavil at. (1.) There is no doubt that under what
     are delicately called "the peculiar circumstances," Mr.
     Staunton was right in not playing Mr. Morphy. If a man feels he
     would have no chance, it would be foolish for him to venture on
     a contest. Resolution (2) is not so impervious to criticism.
     Coming from so learned a quarter as Cambridge, we are rather
     disappointed at the looseness of its wording. The intention, of
     course, was to justify Mr. Staunton in taking the course he has
     adopted, but it does not do so. It says he was right in
     "allowing the challenge to remain open" till the last moment.
     If, indeed, Mr. Staunton had kept the challenge open as long as
     possible no one would have blamed him, but that was precisely
     what he did not do. He accepted the challenge, and thereby
     closed with it, and his friends subscribed funds for the
     stakes. What Mr. Staunton did allow to remain open was the day;
     and, after repeated promises to name it, that has been
     postponed to--never. This is what is complained of in Mr.
     Staunton's conduct, and Lord Lyttelton was right, and expressed
     the judgment of the great majority of English chess players,
     when he wrote that Mr. Staunton might and ought, at an earlier
     date, to have informed Mr. Morphy of his inability to play. We
     say nothing of the paragraphs which have appeared in the
     journal of which Mr. Staunton is the chess editor, insinuating
     that Mr. Morphy's money was not ready, because he (Mr.
     Staunton) may not be answerable for them, but confine
     ourselves, in conformity with our English tendencies, to an
     expression of our concurrence in the views of an English
     nobleman, the whole of the members of the Metropolitan Chess
     circle, and those of the provincial clubs who have communicated
     with us on the subject."

Mr. Staunton's short-sighted policy with regard to Paul Morphy, had not
only caused him to be condemned _vis-à-vis_ of that gentleman, but his
former career was also dragged into discussion and severely commented
upon. The following letter appeared in the "Field" a week after the appeal
to Lord Lyttelton; and, as will be seen, it is from the pen of a once warm
friend of Mr. Staunton:--

     MR. STAUNTON AND MR. MORPHY.

     SIR,--I am desirous, with your permission, of saying a few
     words upon the relative position now occupied by Messrs.
     Staunton and Morphy, whose proposed encounter has been brought
     to such an unfortunate, though not unforeseen, termination. Now
     I am well acquainted with Mr. Staunton. I have been concerned
     on his behalf in the arrangement of one of his (proposed)
     matches, with a player whom he has never ceased to vituperate
     since that period when I endeavored so strenuously to bring
     them together. I have fought Mr. Staunton's battles for him by
     pen and by word of mouth on sundry occasions. I wish, indeed, I
     could do so now; for, as a chess player, and as a laborer in
     the field of chess literature, I place him on the very highest
     pinnacle. Since the time of M'Donnell, I believe that no
     player in this country--not to say Europe--has ever reached so
     high a standard as was attained by our English champion when he
     did battle with St. Amant. Since that time he has been the
     rather concerned in editorial duties, and in intimating to real
     or imaginary correspondents in the _Chess Players' Chronicle_,
     (now defunct,) and in the _Illustrated London News_, (full of
     vitality,) what he could do on the chequered field, if those
     who dreamed of approaching him could but muster sufficient
     money to meet his terms, or what other and peculiar
     restrictions (owing to delicate health and "nervous
     irritability") he should impose upon any adversary with whom he
     engaged himself.

     From what I have seen of Mr. Staunton, I should think the term
     "delicate" thoroughly inapplicable to his condition, but that
     he is highly irritable, and nervously susceptible of all
     antagonistic impressions, no one who knows him can for a moment
     doubt.

         How easy 'tis, when destiny proves kind,
         With full-spread sails to run before the wind.

     So sings the poet. Destiny _did_ prove kind to Mr. Staunton
     when he played his match in Paris with St. Amant. The
     Englishman made the most of it, and achieved a splendid
     triumph. At the great Chess Tournament in 1851 destiny was not
     quite so obliging. The champion from whom we expected so much
     had a head-wind against him, and he was beaten. I saw much of
     Mr. Staunton at that time. I believe--in all justice let it be
     said--that he was thoroughly unnerved, that he was utterly
     unequal to an arduous contest, and that his great merits ought
     not to be gauged by his play upon the occasion alluded to. He
     deserved (he did not receive, for he had never given the same
     to others) every sympathy under circumstances which were
     intensely mortifying to himself personally, and to us
     nationally.

     Since 1851 it has been pretty generally understood that Mr.
     Staunton's irritability has not diminished, and that his
     literary responsibilities have the rather multiplied.
     Consequently we had no right to expect, nationally, that he
     would again be our champion, and contend with the young
     American, whose reputation ran before him to Europe, and has
     accompanied him ever since his arrival from the United States.
     We had no right, I say, to expect this, _but for one reason_.
     That reason is to be found in the chess department of the
     _Illustrated London News_, of which Mr. S. is the acknowledged
     editor. It has been there constantly implied--nay, it has been
     over and over again unequivocally stated--during the last eight
     years, that the vanquisher of St. Amant is still the English
     champion; that as such he has a right to dictate his own terms,
     and that if any one is prepared to accede to those terms, he
     (Mr. Staunton) is prepared for the encounter. It matters not
     whether the correspondents to whom these implications are made
     are real or (as is generally supposed) imaginary. It is
     sufficient that certain statements are made with the intention
     of conveying a false impression to the public as regards Mr.
     Staunton's desire to play and capability of playing. This is
     where he is so greatly to blame; this is the point on which he
     has alienated from himself during the last few years so many of
     his warmest friends. No one blames Mr. Staunton for not playing
     with Mr. Morphy; but every one has a right to blame Mr.
     Staunton if, week after week, he implies in his own organ that
     there is a chance of a match, if all that time he knows that
     there is no chance of a match whatever. This, I affirm
     deliberately, and with great pain, is what Mr. Staunton has
     done. It has been done times out of number, and this in ways
     which have been hardly noticed. If the editor of the chess
     department of the _Illustrated London News_ merely states as a
     piece of news that Mr. Morphy is coming to England from America
     to arrange a match at chess with Mr. Staunton, and Mr. Staunton
     (being that editor himself, and being burdened with literary
     responsibilities which he knows to be so great as to prevent
     his playing an arduous contest) fails to append to such
     statement another, to the effect that he has given up public
     chess, and has no intention of again renewing it, he is not
     acting in a straightforward and honorable manner. But much more
     than this has been effected. So solicitous has Mr. Staunton
     been to trade as long as possible upon his past reputation,
     that it has been written in the _Illustrated London News_ since
     Mr. Morphy's arrival in this country, that he (Mr. M.) is not
     prepared with the necessary stakes for an encounter with Mr.
     Staunton. What truth there was in such averment may be gathered
     from the admirable letter in your impression of last Saturday
     from the young American to Lord Lyttelton. Why is not Mr.
     Staunton content to say (what those who like him best would be
     glad to be authorized to say for him): "I have done much for
     the cause of chess, but I am not equal to what I once was; and
     I am hampered by engagements which do not admit of my playing
     matches now. I cannot risk my reputation under such manifest
     disadvantages as would surround me in a contest with Mr.
     Morphy." The public at large would then respect Mr. Staunton's
     candor, and have a larger appreciation than they now have of
     his great merits. It is true that Mr. Staunton _has_ said this
     at last; but he has been forced to say with a bad grace what
     ought long ago to have been said voluntarily with a good one.

     These unpleasant (not to use a harsher term) circumstances are
     the more to be deplored at present because of the frank,
     courteous, and unassuming conduct of Mr. Morphy upon every
     occasion since he set foot in Europe. I have seen him play in
     London and in Paris; and I have noted those obliging and
     unobtrusive manners which secure to him the good-will of
     everybody, and surround him by troops of friends. How is it
     that Mr. Staunton is not surrounded by troops of friends
     likewise? Is he not a scholar and a gentleman? Has he not many
     qualifications for the distinguished literary position he now
     fills? Undoubtedly he has. But he has never been able to merge
     the personal in the general--to regard his own individuality as
     other than the first consideration. Brought into contact many
     years ago with players who were not refined gentlemen, an
     antagonism was immediately established between the two parties.
     Unhappily for the chess world, literary opportunities were
     afforded in the columns of rival newspapers for the indulgence
     of malevolent feelings on both sides. To this warfare there has
     never been a cessation. So notorious is the fact of its
     existence that it is impossible to rely, in one paper, upon any
     statement having reference to the London Chess Club; it is
     equally impossible to rely, in the other, upon any statement
     affecting the St. George's Club. Ladies who are devoted to
     "Caissa," and write to the _Illustrated London News_, are not
     aware of these things. Imaginary correspondents, of course, are
     utterly ignorant of them. But we who live in and about London,
     who have been behind the scenes at both theatres, know how much
     reliance is to be placed upon a certain kind of chess
     intelligence with which two rival journals regale their
     correspondents and the general public every week. Look even at
     the _Illustrated London News_ of last Saturday, and you will
     see a letter professing to come from Birmingham, (I think it is
     a misprint for Billingsgate,) which is absolutely disgraceful.
     Why should Mr. Staunton try to bolster up his reputation (which
     is European) with sentiments and language of a purely (I mean
     impurely) local character? Why is one player always to be cried
     up at the expense of another? Why are ungenerous and
     ungentlemanly insinuations to be made against a youth whose
     conduct has been characterized by so much unobtrusiveness and
     so much good feeling as that of Mr. Morphy? Why is Mr. Harrwitz
     always to be run down in the _Illustrated London News_? Why are
     Mr. Löwenthal and Mr. Brien, quondam editorial _protégés_, now
     never spoken of but in terms of disparagement? Why should Mr.
     Staunton call upon the _cercle_ at Paris to insist upon Mr.
     Harrwitz progressing with his match with Mr. Morphy at a more
     rapid pace, when the German had pleaded ill health as the cause
     of the delay? Who has drawn so largely upon the patience of the
     British public, on the score of ill health and "palpitations of
     the heart," _et hoc genus omne_, as the generous and
     sympathizing writer who thus stabs a rival player when he is
     down? It is time, sir, that these things should cease. We are
     all weary of them. What better opportunity for crying a truce
     to these mean and petty warfares of the pen than the one which
     now presents itself? Mr. Staunton is our champion no longer. We
     must turn to some one else to uphold the national flag upon
     that field where Labourdonnais and M'Donnell fought and
     struggled. So anxious am I that good feeling should be
     restored, and that we should be united as I see chess players
     united in other countries, that I have put together hurriedly
     these reflections, which, however imperfect they may be, are
     true and just. And because I have observed that the chess
     department of _The Field_, which you so ably edit, is
     peculiarly free from personalities and remarkably authentic in
     its information, I ask you to help me in the good cause by
     giving publicity to this letter. I am not ashamed of what I
     have written, nor do I desire to shrink from the responsibility
     of revealing my name, if it is necessary. I enclose my card, as
     a guarantee, and prefer, if it meets your views, to appear only
     under the name of--

    PAWN-AND-TWO.

It is difficult in any country, and quite impossible in England, to
struggle successfully against public opinion. Mr. Staunton had kept
silence as long as possible, but there was but one course for him to
pursue, namely, in one way or another to own that he was wrong. The chess
circles in which he was once the most welcome of all comers, now turned on
him the cold shoulder; the first clubs in the kingdom, _and amongst them
the St. George's_, were signifying their desire to offer Paul Morphy
public dinners; such eminent players as Captain Kennedy volunteered
subscriptions towards a national testimonial for the young American, not
more as an evidence of their admiration for him as a master in the game,
than as marking their esteem for him as a man.[C] Mr. Staunton could no
longer resist such a pressure, and besides, he owed some apology to his
paper for the suppression of the famous paragraph; he therefore addressed
the following communication to his chief, the editor of the _Illustrated
London News_:

     MR. STAUNTON'S EXPLANATION.

     _To the Editor of the Illustrated London News_:

     SIR,--My attention has this moment been directed to a passage
     in a letter of Lord Lyttelton to Mr. Morphy, wherein allusion
     is made to the "suppression" of a portion of Mr. Morphy's
     letter to me, which you published, together with my answer, in
     your paper for Oct. 23. I have not seen the epistle to which
     Lord Lyttelton's is a reply; but I plead guilty at once to
     having omitted, when sending you Mr. Morphy's jeremiade and my
     answer, a couple of paragraphs from the former. My reasons for
     omitting them were, in the first place, because they appeared
     to me to be irrelevant to the main point between Mr. Morphy and
     me; secondly, because I know if the letters extended very much
     beyond the limited space you apportion to chess, they were
     pretty certain of being omitted, or, as Mr. Morphy phrases it,
     "_suppressed_" altogether; and, thirdly, because I had already
     written to a friend in Paris with whom, through my
     introduction, Mr. M. was living upon intimate terms, an
     explanation touching the notice Mr. Morphy professes to be so
     concerned at; and from my friend's reply, which intimated that
     Mr. M. was about to write to me in an amicable spirit, I of
     course supposed there was an end of the matter, and that I
     should be permitted to pursue my work, and this young gentleman
     his play, without further misunderstanding. That, after this,
     and in the face of my endeavors through your Journal to set his
     blindfold and other chess exploits before the public in the
     most advantageous light--in the face of every civility which to
     the extent of my opportunities, I have endeavored to show him
     from the first moment of his arrival in this country--he could
     reconcile it to his sense of honor and honesty, to impute to me
     a wilful suppression of any portion of his letter, does,
     indeed, amaze me, and I can only account for it, by supposing
     he is under the influence of very ill advisers, or that his
     idea of what is honorable and honest, is very different from
     what I had hoped and believed it to be.

    I am, sir, yours, &c.,
      H. STAUNTON.

    _November 15._

     P. S. That you may judge with what likelihood and with what
     propriety Mr. Morphy attributes the omission of the _excerpta_
     to sinister motives, I enclose them, and shall be obliged by
     your giving them the additional publicity he craves, as soon as
     your space permits:--

     "A statement appeared in the chess department of that Journal,
     (_The Illustrated London News_) a few weeks since, that 'Mr.
     Morphy had come to Europe unprovided with backers or
     seconds'--the inference being obvious, that my want of funds
     was the reason of our match not taking place. As you are the
     editor of that department of the _Illustrated London News_, I
     felt much hurt that a gentleman who had always received me at
     his club and elsewhere, with great kindness and courtesy should
     allow so prejudicial a statement to be made in reference to me;
     one, too, which is not strictly consonant with fact."

     "In conclusion, I beg leave to state, that I have addressed a
     copy of this letter to the editors of the _Illustrated London
     News_, _Bell's Life in London_, _The Era_, _The Field_, and
     _The Sunday Times_; being most desirous that our true position
     should no longer be misunderstood by the community at large. I
     again request you to fix the date for our commencing the
     match."

Mr. Morphy was not desirous of prolonging the discussion, after so full
and entire an indorsement from Mr. Staunton's fellow-countrymen, or he
could easily have driven that gentleman further into the mire. But Mr. S.
made two statements in the above letter, which Paul Morphy could not allow
to pass unrebuked, and he accordingly denied, publicly, that he had
received any introduction whatever from that gentleman, or that he had
even hinted his intention of writing Mr. Staunton, amicably or otherwise.

The latter part of the letter is in questionable taste. As though Mr. S.
had acquired any right to misrepresent facts, publish misstatements, and
deny reparation, on account of "having set his (M.'s) blindfold and other
chess-exploits before the public in the most advantageous light."

By so doing, Mr. Staunton merely fulfilled his editorial duty; for the
entire chess world was on the _qui vive_ after Morphy's exploits. _His
games were being published throughout Europe, to the exclusion of nearly
all others_, and surely Mr. S. could not allow his paper to be behind
other journals. _But he knew full well that, after the first fortnight or
three weeks, Mr. Morphy never gave him a single partie, being hurt at the
ungenerous treatment evinced towards him in the notes._ Mr. Staunton was
using the columns of an influential journal to crush a dangerous opponent,
and, at the time he penned the above letter, he well knew that Paul Morphy
resented from the first such unfairness, and had positively forbidden any
of his games to be sent to him.

Mr. Staunton makes reference, in conclusion, to "very ill advisers." I
suppose I must take this mainly to myself, more particularly as it is not
the first time of his using the expression during the discussion. Without
attempting to defend myself, I would say to Mr. Staunton: "I can reconcile
it with my sense of honor and honesty, to impute to you a wilful
suppression of the paragraph so frequently referred to. Had you given that
paragraph, you would, _per force_, have been obliged to give your reasons
for the assertion therein contained. And I would remind you, sir, that, in
all this discussion, you have never touched the real point at issue--never
apologized for the misstatement of which Mr. Morphy complains with so much
cause. Paul Morphy is acquainted with the reason for that misstatement,
but he has never evinced a desire to force you to state it publicly. He
can afford to be generous."

It may be cause of regret to some that the match between these two
_athletæ_ did not take place. Such a contest would not have afforded any
test of comparison, inasmuch as Mr. Staunton is not now the player he was
eight or ten years ago. But an infallible test exists by which to judge of
their respective merits--viz. _their games_. "By their fruits ye shall
know them."

       *       *       *       *       *

MORAL.

Mr. Staunton's weakness was want of sufficient courage to say, "He is
stronger than I." Löwenthal said it _before his match with Morphy was
finished_; Mr. Boden openly avowed his inferiority, as also Mr. Bird, and
many other eminent players. And Saint Amant, in Paris, led the young hero
up the steps of the throne, and seated him beside Labourdonnais,
proclaiming, "Voiçi notre maitre à nous tous." Had Mr. Staunton so done,
he would merely have anticipated the verdict of posterity, and honored
himself in the eyes of his countrymen and the world.

FOOTNOTES:

[C] CAPTAIN KENNEDY'S OPINION OF PAUL MORPHY.

     _To the Editor of the Era_:

     SIR,--As I understand that Mr. Morphy contemplates another
     visit to England before his return to America, will you permit
     me, through your columns, respectfully to suggest to the chess
     community of this country the propriety of offering him a
     public entertainment, together with some adequate testimonial
     which may serve to mark our sense of his transcendent ability
     as a chess player; and also our appreciation of him as a
     chivalrous, high-spirited, and honorable man--a character which
     I hope Englishmen know how to value far more than even any
     amount of skill at chess.

     Should this proposal take any definite shape, I shall be happy
     to be allowed to contribute £5 towards its accomplishment.

    I am, sir, your obedient servant,
    A. A. KENNEDY.

    BATH, _Jan. 1, 1859_.

[Captain Kennedy, we feel sure, in this communication, expresses the
feeling of a large majority of English chess players, and we have little
doubt but that his suggestion will be entertained and carried out. For
ourselves we shall be happy to aid to the utmost in any plan that is
formed for the purpose.]




CHAPTER VII.

MORPHY IN FRANCE.


On the last day of last August, I awakened Paul Morphy at an early hour.
The Folkestone train left London Bridge at 9 55 A. M., and there was some
twenty minutes of hard driving to get to the railway station; but Morphy
came down to breakfast with admirable _sang froid_, took his own time at
the meal, laughed at my fears of being too late, and got into a cab at
least ten minutes later than we ought to have done. We arrived at the
depot in time to see the doors shut in our faces. Now this was not
agreeable, inasmuch as there was no other train for Paris, by that line,
during the day. I therefore proposed to Morphy that we should stroll about
until half-past one o'clock in the afternoon, and then take the route
through Dover and Calais, to which he assented.

The trip across the Straits of Dover is neither long nor pleasant, and Mr.
Morphy was dreadfully sea-sick; but his mind was preoccupied with his
forthcoming campaigns in _la Belle France_, and he observed to me, "Well,
now I am going to meet Harrwitz! I shall beat him in the same proportion
as I beat Löwenthal, although he is a better match-player than Löwenthal.
But I shall play better with Harrwitz." Some of my readers may object to
such an observation; but those who know Morphy, know that he speaks from
thorough acquaintance with his opponents' capabilities, and conviction of
his own superiority--not from any improper feeling of pride.

People suffering from sea-sickness generally recognize the truth of the
maxim, "It is better to give than to receive:" you have much difficulty in
getting them to take any thing, even fat pork; but if you watch your
opportunity, when the will is stronger than the deed, and induce them to
worry down a modicum of champagne well up, you infuse new life into them.
So I requested the steward to make us acquainted with his Silléry
Mousseux, and Morphy and I toasted each other on the deck of the
steamboat. On my asking him immediately afterwards how he felt, he allowed
that he was better; adding, however, that he believed it was nothing but
imagination which worked the cure.

It was but a short run to the pier of Calais, and the sea-sickness was
forgotten when our feet again touched _terra firma_. On landing, we got
into a slight difficulty. Morphy speaks the French language with the
purest Gallic accent, and the officials would not at first consent to his
travelling with a United States passport. This our hero soon cleared up by
reading the _gens d'armes_ a _précis_ of the settlement, manners,
customs, &c., of the State of Louisiana, and his own antecedents;
whereupon that official restored him his _papier règlé_, but confiscated a
quantity of underlinen. They told us that was Customary.

Eight o'clock in the evening; and if we took the train forthwith, we
should arrive in Paris next morning at six. Morphy proposed that we should
sleep there that night, and take an early train the following day, which
course would enable us to see the town of Calais. So we repaired to the
Hotel Dessin, attended to our inner and outer man, and then prepared for a
stroll. As the result of our observations, we agreed Calais must have been
a magnificent town before the discovery of the principles of architecture.
After diligent inquiry, we could not learn that any one knew when the last
house was built, and Morphy gave it as his opinion that, were William the
Conqueror to revisit Calais, he would find it unchanged, except in being
dirtier. When I reminded him that the town possessed peculiar interest for
me as an Englishman, he coolly set me down, by observing that he had a
very poor opinion of my ancestors for wishing to keep such a place.

The next morning we got into the train at a quarter to eight o'clock, and
commenced the long, dreary ride of ten mortal hours to Paris. But there
was no way out of the difficulty, and, what with yawning and dozing
between the stations, and grumbling at the tedious regulation speed of the
French railways, we ultimately arrived at the capital. Now every
traveller, on getting to this point, thinks he is bound to paint the
various emotions arising in his breast on entering the city of the Seine.
My own sensations were of strong Anglican bias. I wanted to dine. Morphy
is never betrayed into rhapsody, and what he felt he didn't speak.

Having again submitted our baggage to the inspection of numerous
officials, we thanked our stars for seeing the last of the _Chemin de Fer
du Nord_,--drove off to _Meurice's_, where they gave us rooms about the
fifteenth story,--started for the _Restaurant des Trois Frères
Provençaux_, and got a capital dinner, and then addressed ourselves to the
duties of _flaneurs_. I knew the French capital like a _gamin de Paris_;
and, without saying a word to Morphy of my intention, I led him quietly
down the Palais Royal, past the Théâtre Français, and right into the Café
de la Régence.




CHAPTER VIII.

THE CAFÉ DE LA RÉGENCE.


Were I called upon to name the central spot in this whirling sphere, the
point round which all other points revolve, I should say--The Café de la
Régence.

Probably many of my readers will not think so, but that does not alter the
fact. I name that café, not as a chess player, but from more general
reasons. Take a bowl of water or any other liquid--_punch_ will do--and,
prior to drinking, experiment upon it. Turn it round and round until the
liquid revolves quickly, and mark: there is one spot in the centre, a
bubble, or mass of foam, which appears stationary, and all the other
bubbles are circling and converging spirally towards it. So with my café.

In Paris, every other house is a café. The inhabitants are divided into
two classes:--waiters at the café, and--frequenters of the café. Paris
never existed until coffee was introduced. Paris is merely a big café, and
is a product of the Mocha berry.

Every café has its speciality. At Paul Niquet's, for instance, the
chiffoniers congregate, and at Tortoni's, speculators and politicians. Not
one of these establishments, throughout the city, but has its mark, by
which to distinguish it from its fellows, in the same way as an ugly woman
consoles herself with the belief that she has one quality at least which
will captivate admirers. But the Café de la Régence stands out peculiar
from the rest; it is what they are, and more too. It is an epitome of all.

Now the reader must not suppose I am going to enter on a lengthy history
of this far-famed trysting spot of men of all countries, more particularly
as Mr. George Walker anticipated me many years ago. Everybody knows that
the Café de la Régence and the Café Procope are the two oldest in Paris;
that the former is so named after the famous Regent Duke of Orleans; that
Voltaire, Jean Jacques Rousseau, Duke of Richelieu, Marshall Saxe,
Franklin, Robespierre, Napoleon, etc., etc., etc., made it their place of
frequent resort for the purpose of playing at chess. I am about to give a
daguerreotype of the Régence as Morphy and I found it, and as any one will
find it at the present day.

The first thing we caught sight of, on entering, was a dense cloud of
tobacco smoke, the product of _tabac de Caporal_ and _cigars de la Régie_.
The second object was a massive individual, with Titanic shoulders, whom
we afterwards learned was Monsieur Morel, or, as they call him there, "Le
père Morel," and "The Rhinoceros." Having turned the flank of this
gentleman, and our eyes becoming used to the peculiar atmosphere, we
observed that tables were placed as close to each other as would admit of
one's passing between them, and that chess was being played on some,
draughts, cards, and dominoes on others. In a second room, two
billiard-tables were in full action, surrounded by still other chess and
card parties, whilst the unceasing hubbub arising from the throng seemed
to render mental abstraction an impossibility. At a table in the first
room, a small crowd was watching the contest between two amateurs of "ye
noble game of chesse playe," and Morphy's attention was immediately
arrested. I stepped up to the _dame du comptoir_ and made inquiries as to
who was then in the room, and learned from her that one of the two players
Morphy was watching was Monsieur Journoud, "un de nos plus forts," the
lady added, as though aware I was a stranger. She informed me that Mr.
Harrwitz was then at Valenciennes, but intended to return to Paris at the
end of the week, in order to meet Mr. Morphy. On my not expressing any
surprise at the mention of the latter's name, she volunteered the
information that Mr. Morphy was a celebrated American player, who had
beaten everybody he had played with, and that they expected him yesterday.
The lady was pleasingly voluble, and I encouraged her; this induced her to
add that Monsieur Arnoux de Rivière had just received a letter from a
friend in London, apprising him that our hero had left the English
capital, and was _en route_ for Paris.

Having learned as much as the _dame du comptoir_ was able to communicate,
I rejoined Morphy, and we took a second look round the room. Sounds of all
European languages saluted our ears, and types of different races our
eyes. In one corner, a knot of Italians talked, amicably no doubt, in
their rapid, quarrelsome manner. At one of the billiard tables, a party of
Russians were having it their own way, without fear of listeners;
Americans and English, Germans, Danes, Swedes, Greeks, Spaniards, etc.,
jabbered together regardless of bystanders, making the café a very Babel.
Scores of journals were lying here and there--the leading newspapers, in
fact, throughout Europe--so that every visitor, no matter what his
nationality, could obtain news of home.

The crowd seemed, as it always does, to represent every rank of society.
There were military men, from colonels to privates; one or two priests,
who seemed somewhat out of their element; well-dressed,
aristocratic-looking individuals, who kept together in knots in different
corners; and the invariable _pillier de café_, who passes half his
existence in such establishments, and the other half in bed. The Café de
la Régence opens at eight o'clock in the morning, but little or nothing is
done until noon, barring the daily visit of some three or four patrons who
drink their coffee in silence, and are not seen again until early next
day. But at noon men begin to drop in quickly, and, by two o'clock, the
room is as full as it can conveniently hold, and so continues until
midnight.

The Café de la Régence has only existed on its present site for a few
years; in fact, since Louis Napoleon has made the many magnificent
alterations in the French capital. Previously, it was next door, in a
_locale_ not half so convenient as the present one. The café is separated
into two rooms on the Rue St. Honoré; in the larger one, which we have
already described, smoking is permitted to a frightful extent; in the
other, it is strictly forbidden. The latter chamber is well fitted up, and
the ceiling, which is massive, contains four shields in the cornices,
bearing the names of Philidor, Deschappelles, and Labourdonnais. The
fourth bears the date of the café's foundation, and the proprietor has
stated his intention of placing therein the name MORPHY. Perhaps it is
already done.

At the time of our arrival in Paris, the _Cercle des Echecs_, or in other
words, the Chess Club, met in rooms over the café. The association had
three rooms set apart for chess, and one for billiards, and Saint Amant,
Devinck, Guibert, Préti, Doazan, Delannoy, Seguin and Lecrivain were
amongst the members. But the great room down stairs prevented their
receiving any accession of numbers, and the rent being very high, and
funds very low, they gave up their quarters at the end of last year, and
are now to be found in the café below.

Morphy would not announce his arrival on his first visit, preferring to
postpone it until the following day. When it was known that the so much
looked-for player was in Paris, the excitement was great; Frenchmen live
for excitement. M. de Rivière had not been there lately, but we found
Messrs. Lecrivain, Journoud, Guibert, and numbers of knight and
rook-players. The first-named gentleman, by general request, offered
himself as the initiatory sacrifice, accepting the odds of pawn and two
moves, and managed to score some two games to Morphy's six or seven. Then
M. de Rivière arrived, and getting the move, played the Ruy Lopez, which
eventuated in "a draw;" and he was subsequently followed by M. Journoud,
who, though one of the best French players, failed to score a victory.
Morphy had made his mark, and everybody looked forward to the arrival of
Herr Harrwitz, when they hoped to see fun.




CHAPTER IX.

THE MATCH BETWEEN MORPHY AND HARRWITZ.


Saturday came, and so did Harrwitz. We found him a little man, of about
forty, with finely-developed head, and large, piercing black eyes. In
conversation, he is exceedingly witty and "cool," and many are the good
things told of him. Some of my readers will remember the rebuke he gave
Mr. Staunton, when playing his celebrated match with that gentleman.
Harrwitz had made a move which caused much reflection to his opponent, who
rolled about on his chair and stroked his forehead energetically, as only
Mr. Staunton can do, giving spectators the impression that his brain was
in an agony of labor. He examined the position, and re-examined it; but,
the more he looked, the less he liked it. Savage at being balked, he
exclaimed--"Well, I've lost a move," and thereupon played a piece.
Harrwitz coolly rises from his seat, rings the bell frantically, and gives
the following order: "Waiter, look about for a move; Mr. Staunton has lost
one."

[Illustration: HERR ANDERSSEN. M. SAINT AMANT. HERR HARRWITZ.]

There is probably no man living who plays so much chess as Herr
Harrwitz. All great chess players I know of, are great _lie-a'beds_, and
he is no exception to the rule. His night-gear and he part company many
hours after sunrise, and he starts forthwith for the Café de la Régence,
where he plays, with only a slight intermission for dinner, until he goes
home to bed again. His opponents are generally visitors to the café, not
the habitués; for these last have taken great dislike to his very
offensive manner, and will not contend with him. They say, too, that he
evinces an improper desire to win, and, in consequence, will only give the
odds of pawn and move, when he could well afford pawn and two, and the
knight instead of the rook. In my character of historian, I am bound to
state that the feeling was very intense at the Régence in favor of Morphy,
and many the prayers (_French_ prayers) that Harrwitz might succumb to
him.

The two celebrities shook hands together, and Morphy immediately asked if
he would consent to play a match. The fact is, the young Paul meant
mischief. Everybody in England was loud in praise of Harrwitz's skill, and
prophesied a tough encounter. There was reason in this; for the Prussian
player has given himself up, body and soul, to the game. Staunton's
literary avocations now permit him but an hour or two weekly for chess,
although formerly he lived in the London Divan, as Harrwitz in the
Régence, and was so rabid about Caïssa, that he actually wore shirts with
kings, rooks, pawns, etc., printed over the bosoms and tails. Saint Amant
was never a professional chess player, merely regarding it as a pastime.
Löwenthal's duties as chess editor and analyst, prevent his giving much
time to play, and, although he devotes a certain period weekly to the
contests at the London, St. George's, and St. James's Clubs, he seldom
contends for any stake. Anderssen is absorbed in mathematics at the
Breslau Gymnasium; Heyderbrandt's diplomatic career engages nearly his
entire attention; Buckle has forgotten his former love; Boden, Bird,
Medley, Walker, Mongredieu, Slous, Kipping, De Rivière, Laroche, are
engaged in mercantile pursuits; Lowe is getting rich with his hotel;
Hörwitz is painting; Kling is a professor of music; and so on with nearly
all European players. Harrwitz is the only man I know of who seems to live
for chess, and we can, therefore, easily understand why Morphy was so
desirous of playing him.

To our hero's question, Harrwitz gave a reply so non-committal, that
Morphy said, aside, to me, "He won't play a match." A crowd had collected
around us, and the Prussian, thinking it an admirable opportunity for
display, asked Morphy whether he had any objection to an off-hand game. Of
course he had not. Harrwitz had the move, and played an Allgaier Gambit,
which, after a hard fight, he won. Morphy was somewhat excited, made a
mistake in the opening, by which he lost three pawns for nothing at all,
and yet fought the battle with such determination, that the number of
moves was not far short of a hundred. His antagonist was delighted with
his victory, thought he was sure of Morphy, and engaged to settle the
preliminaries of a match on the following day.

The next morning Harrwitz arrived at his usual hour--noon. He informed
Morphy that his friends were desirous of backing him, but that the stakes
were not made up yet. Morphy replied that that would be no objection, as
he would accept any bets that might be offered during the match, and they
could therefore begin at once. But another difficulty stood in the way.
Morphy, in pursuance of a settled plan, had chosen his seconds from the
enemy's camp, and had requested De Rivière and Journoud to act as his
friends in this contest. Harrwitz chose to regard these gentlemen with
feelings of enmity, and stated that, "if there were any seconds, there
would be no match." Morphy was thus placed in a very equivocal position.
Without being aware of any dispute existing between his future antagonist
and the gentlemen in question, he had chosen them as his representatives:
how could he now ask them to back out, because Mr. Harrwitz demanded it?
However, on my representing the case to them, Messrs. De Rivière and
Journoud resigned their office in the most kindly and willing manner, so
desirous were they of seeing the match come off.

Shortly afterwards Monsieur Lequesne arrived. This gentleman, the pupil
and worthy successor of Pradier, is now the first of living French
sculptors, and the peer of Marochetti, Crawford, and Gibson. He is also a
strong chess player, and the most active man in France for arranging
matches, tournaments, &c. He immediately adjourned with Harrwitz, Morphy,
and myself to a private room, to settle preliminaries, and, if I recollect
rightly, Dr. Grosboulogne was of the party. Harrwitz expressed his dislike
to any thing like ceremony, and objected to their being seconds or umpires
in the affair; sorry were Morphy, Lequesne, and H.'s own backers,
afterwards, that he carried the day on that point. The only arrangements
made were, that Morphy was to accept all bets offered, that the winner of
the first seven games should be esteemed the victor, and that the play
should take place on four days in the week; and, finally, at Harrwitz's
express stipulation, the match was to be played in the public café.

All this being agreed upon, the two champions came forth, and went at it.
On drawing for the move, Harrwitz was again successful, and played, as he
always does in matches, _pawn to queen's fourth_. This opening, and
_Philidor in defence_, as second player, you could no more drive him away
from, than you could induce Great Britain to give up Gibraltar. _Pawn to
queen's fourth_ served Harrwitz's turn once, and so did _Philidor in
defence_, but only once, and I do not think it would then, if Morphy had
been in good condition.

The night before the commencement of the match, Morphy had been
sight-seeing until a very late hour; and we only got into bed between two
and three o'clock in the morning. He laughed at me for reminding him of
his approaching contest, and the necessity for _mens sana in corpore
sano_, which I said would be seriously interfered with by his not taking
sufficient rest. The next day his appearance verified my prognostics, and
he failed to show that impassibility which ordinarily characterizes him.
He says, however, that Harrwitz beat him because he (H.) played the best
moves; and he would not admit to me that want of rest at all interfered
with his own play.

Throughout the first game, Harrwitz displayed the most rollicking contempt
for his antagonist, and, at the conclusion, when Morphy resigned, he rose
from his seat, stretched across the table, and taking the latter by the
hand, he felt his pulse and declared to the crowd--"Well, it is
astonishing! His pulse does not beat any faster than if he had won the
game." Everybody was disgusted at such a contemptuous proceeding, but
Morphy took it all as quietly as though it were a part of the match.

Our hero passed that evening with some friends. Towards eleven o'clock I
said to him, "Now, Morphy, you really must not have a second edition of
last night; let us get home in good time;" but he replied, "Oh, don't be
frightened, I've got the move to-morrow;" and, in spite of all I could say
or do, we did not get to bed until nearly four o'clock. Well, what was the
consequence? After getting a magnificent position in the second game of
the match, bodily fatigue came upon him, and Harrwitz was again victor.
The Prussian came out in greater glory than ever, rolling about in his
seat, talking loudly to persons about the board, and smiling sardonically
at his opponent, as much as to say, "Oh, it takes very little trouble to
beat this fellow." Many leading players in the café, especially De Rivière
and Journoud, were very savage at such conduct, but I told them--"Mark my
words, Mr. Harrwitz will be quiet as a lamb before the end of next week."

The result of the play with Harrwitz had shaken the faith of the French
players in Morphy. But as we left the café, he said laughingly to me, "How
astonished all these men will be if Harrwitz does not get another game."
And he did not. At dinner, I reasoned the matter with him, saying that the
first requisite for any man engaged in a chess match, was rest for the
brain; and that he ought, by this time, to be convinced of the absolute
necessity of keeping early hours. And I wound up by exacting a promise
from him that he would never be out of bed after midnight, during the
match.

In the evening we went to the Opera Comique, and witnessed a very
unsatisfactory performance of "La Part du Diable." Morphy has a great love
for music, and his memory for any air he has once heard is astonishing.
Mrs. Morphy is renowned in the _salons_ of New Orleans as a brilliant
pianist and musician, and her son, without ever having studied music, has
a similar aptitude for it, and it is believed that he would have become as
famous therein as in chess, had he given his attention to it. "La Part du
Diable" was a new opera, and Morphy, after leaving the theatre, hummed
over many of the airs to me, which he had just heard for the first time,
with astonishing precision.

The next day we took a long drive among the "lions," and, in the evening,
dined at the residence of that chess veteran and friend of Deschappelles
and Labourdonnais, Monsieur Doazan. Harrwitz was of the company, and, for
the nonce, acted Jupiter Triumphans in superb style. I felt indignant at
such conduct towards a man so inoffensive and modest as Mr. Morphy, and I
observed: "I am sorry, Mr. Harrwitz, you have not yet found Mr. Morphy in
good fighting trim. The fact is, he has been preparing to meet you by not
going to bed until common men are about to rise, but he has promised to
retire early in future, and you will then find in him a very different
antagonist." It was merely a hint, but the gentle Harrwitz did not like
it. The following morning, Morphy said to me at breakfast, "If I beat
Harrwitz to-day, you will say it is because I went to bed at eleven
o'clock;" to which I replied, "Perhaps; but I do say that you lost the
first two games because you went to bed at four."

The third and fourth games Morphy scored in beautiful style. The latter,
Staunton declared, "would have excited the admiration of Labourdonnais,"
and the effect upon Harrwitz was interesting. During its progress, his
conduct was quite gentlemanly, with the exception of a violent shaking
consequent upon nervous excitement. There was cause for this. On the
other side of the board sat Morphy, looking, in his peculiar way, like a
block of impassible, living marble, the very embodiment of penetration and
decision. No hesitancy or excitement there, but all cool, calm action,
knowing where it must end; and, as he rose from his seat, everybody
congratulated him on the score now standing two to two, and assured him
they were confident what would be the result. We laughed heartily at these
men who, but a few days previous, had looked woefully chopfallen, fearing
that Harrwitz was too strong for Morphy.

The fifth game was played on the following Monday, and the Prussian lost
it, although he had the move. Harrwitz felt uncomfortable, plainly feeling
that his present antagonist was, as he expressed himself to a friend,
"very much stronger than any he had ever met." We now had several days'
intermission from play, the plea being "ill health;" and, finally, Morphy
received a letter from his opponent, asking for a respite of a week or ten
days, to which a reply was returned granting the request, on condition
that, when the match was resumed, a game should be played daily, Sundays
alone excepted. At the termination of ten days, Harrwitz lost the sixth
game, so that the score now stood--Morphy, four; Harrwitz, two; drawn,
none. And the latter, in spite of the agreement, was again absent from the
battle-field for some days.




CHAPTER X.

MORPHY'S GREATEST BLINDFOLD FEAT.


Awaiting the return of his antagonist, Paul Morphy announced his intention
of playing eight blindfold games, simultaneously, in the public café. It
is needless to assure my readers that the mere announcement produced the
greatest excitement; the newspapers heralded the fact throughout the city,
and crowds of strangers came pouring into the Régence, and asking
particulars of the _habitués_ in relation to the approaching performance.
Harrwitz had already asked Morphy to join him in a public display of the
same description, to which the admission was to be five francs, and Morphy
felt embarrassed in answering him; but the good offices of Mr. Lequesne
arranged the difficulty, without hurting any one's _amour propre_, and the
proposed exhibition was set on one side. Morphy has an intense dislike to
money-fingering in connection with chess; and he made it a _sine qua non_
that, if he played blindfold at all, the _Café de la Régence_ should be
open to any one who chose to walk in. The proprietor, Monsieur Delaunay,
was only too glad to accede to this; not merely foreseeing that the
exhibition would attract crowds to his establishment, and be an admirable
advertisement, but also from a friendly feeling for our hero. The
frequenters of the place used to say that Delaunay would give Morphy half
his café, if he asked him for it.

The blindfold struggle was publicly announced to commence at noon; but, at
an early hour, the crowd was already considerable. The billiard-tables in
the further room were sacrificed to the exigencies of the occasion; I
requested the waiters to put a thick cord round them, so as to rail off a
space for Morphy, and a large easy-chair, placed in the _enceinte_, made
the whole arrangements as comfortable for him as could be wished. He,
however, was not up to the mark, as regards bodily health. Morphy is a
water-drinker, and Paris water would cure any Maine Liquor Law bigot of
Teetotalism in a week. Since the outset of the match with Harrwitz, he had
been ailing, but he preferred playing to making excuses. His own
expression was, "Je ne suis pas homme aux excuses"--(I am no man to make
excuses,) and he was always ready for Harrwitz, although obliged to ride
to the café. Nothing proves so satisfactorily to me Morphy's wondrous
powers in chess, as his contests in France, laboring, as he constantly
did, under positive bodily suffering. A man's brain will often be more
than ordinarily active and clear when the body is weak from late illness;
but it is not so when there is pain existing. At breakfast, on the
morning fixed for this blindfold exhibition, he said to me, "I don't know
how I shall get through my work to-day. I am afraid I shall be obliged to
leave the room, and some evil-minded persons may think I am examining
positions outside." Yet, in spite of this, he sits down, and, during ten
long hours, creates combinations which have never been surpassed on the
chess-board, although his opponents were men of recognized strength, and,
as a collective body, Pawn and Two Moves stronger than the Birmingham
eight.

The boards for Morphy's antagonists were arranged in the principal room of
the café, numbered as follows:--

    No. 1. Baucher,
        2. Bierwirth,
        3. Bornemann,
        4. Guibert,
        5. Lequesne,
        6. Potier,
        7. Préti,
        8. Seguin.

Nearly all these gentlemen are well known in contemporaneous chess, and
formed such a phalanx that many persons asked whether Morphy knew whom he
was going to play against. Monsieur Arnoux de Rivière called the moves for
the first four, and Monsieur Journoud for the others; and, all being
prepared, Morphy began as usual with "Pawn to King's Fourth on all the
boards."

Things went on swimmingly and amusingly. It was as good as a volume of
_Punch_ or the _Charivari_ to hear the remarks made by the excited
spectators; more especially when the "openings" were past, and the
science of the combatants came out, in the middle of the game. There was
the huge "Père Morel," hands in his pockets, blowing clouds from an
immense pipe like smoke from Vesuvius, threading his way between the
boards and actually getting fierce when anybody asked him what he thought
of it. Seeing him seated at the end of the room towards evening, and
looking as though dumbfoundered at the performance, I said to him,--"Well,
Mr. Morel, do you believe now that Morphy can play against eight such
antagonists?" He looked at me in an imploring manner and replied,--"Oh,
don't talk to me; Mr. Morphy makes my head ache." It is related of Pitt
that, making a speech in Parliament on a certain occasion, whilst under
the influence of sundry bottles of Port, the doorkeeper of the House of
Commons declared that the son of the great Chatham made his head ache, so
violent was his language, and so loud his tone. This coming to Pitt's
ears, he said--"Nothing could be better; I drink the wine, and the
doorkeeper gets the headache." Monsieur Potier rises from his table to
show on another board how Morphy had actually seen seven moves in advance;
and Signor Préti gets quite nervous and agitated as our hero puts shot
after shot into his bull's-eye; and I had much difficulty in assuring him
that no absolute necessity existed for his playing on, until Morphy mated
him; but that when he found his game was irretrievably lost, he would be
justified in resigning. Monsieur Baucher was the first to give in,
although one of the very strongest of the contestants; Morphy's
combinations against this gentleman were so astonishing, and the finale so
brilliant, that Mr. Walker declared in _Bell's Life_--"This game is worthy
of being inscribed in letters of gold, on the walls of the London Club."
Bornemann and Préti soon followed, and then Potier and Bierwirth; Messrs.
Lequesne and Guibert effecting drawn battles; Monsieur Seguin alone was
left. It was but natural that he should be the last, as he was the
strongest of the eight combatants, and, truth to tell, he did not believe
it possible for any one to beat him without seeing the board; but this
Morphy finally effected in some beautiful pawn play, which would have
tickled Philidor himself.

Forthwith commenced such a scene as I scarcely hope again to witness.
Morphy stepped from the arm-chair in which he had been almost immovable
for ten consecutive hours, without having tasted a morsel of any thing,
even water, during the whole of the period; yet as fresh, apparently, as
when he sat down. The English and Americans, of whom there were scores
present, set up stentorian Anglo-Saxon cheers, and the French joined in as
the whole crowd made a simultaneous rush at our hero. The waiters of the
Café had formed a conspiracy to carry Morphy in triumph on their
shoulders, but the multitude was so compact, they could not get near him,
and finally, had to abandon the attempt. Great bearded fellows grasped his
hands, and almost shook his arms out of the sockets, and it was nearly
half an hour before we could get out of the Café. A well-known citizen of
New York, Thomas Bryan, Esq., got on one side of him and M. de Rivière on
the other, and "Le Père Morel,"--body and soul for our hero--fought a
passage through the crowd by main strength, and we finally got into the
street. There the scene was repeated; the multitude was greater out of
doors than in the café, and the shouting, if possible, more deafening.
Morphy, Messrs. Bryan and De Rivière and myself, made for the Palais
Royal, but the crowd still followed us, and when we got to the guardhouse
of the Imperial Guard, _sergeants de ville_ and soldiers came running out
to see whether a new revolution was on the _tapis_. We rushed into the
Restaurant Foy, up stairs, and into a private room; whilst, as we
subsequently learned, the landlord made anxious inquiries as to the cause
of all this excitement. Having done our duty to a capital supper, we got
off by a back street, and thus avoided the crowd, who, we were informed,
awaited our reappearance in the quadrangle of the Palais Royal.

Next morning, Morphy actually awakened me at seven o'clock, and told me,
if I would get up, he would dictate to me the moves of yesterday's games.
I never saw him in better spirits, or less fatigued, than on that
occasion, as he showed me, for two long hours, the hundreds of variations
depending on the play of the previous day, with such rapidity that I found
it hard work to follow the thread of his combinations.

Harrwitz was in the café for about an hour during blindfold play, and he
actually had the assurance to say to me, "You can tell Mr. Morphy, that I
will continue the match to-morrow." I replied: "I feel satisfied that Mr.
Morphy will be willing to do so, but I shall most certainly object, and
all that lies in my power will be done to prevent his seeing a chess-board
until he has had at least twenty-four hours' rest." And I added: "You had
better not let it be known that you have made the proposition, or you will
be badly received in the café, depend upon it."

The evening after his blindfold feat, Morphy very inconsiderately took a
nap in his sitting-room, with the window open. On my arrival I awoke him,
and he complained of feeling cold. Next morning he was feverish, and in
any thing but a fit state to meet Harrwitz. Nevertheless I could not
induce him to keep his room; he said to me: "I would sooner lose the game,
than that anybody should think I had exhausted myself by a _tour de
force_, as some will do if I am absent at the proper hour." And he rode to
the Régence in a state only fit for a hot bath and sweating powder. Well
might Saint Amant call him the "chivalrous Bayard of Chess."




CHAPTER XI.

CONTINUATION OF THE MATCH WITH HARRWITZ.


Morphy was at the Régence to the minute, but Harrwitz was not forthcoming.
At last we received a message from him that he objected to play any longer
in the public café, and requested Morphy to come up stairs into the rooms
of the Chess Club. It would be difficult to describe the excitement caused
by this announcement. Harrwitz's backers, of whom there were eight or ten,
were very angry; more especially as it was at his own particular desire
that the match was played in the café. The _pretext_ was, that the warm
atmosphere and noise of the crowd interfered with his game; the _real
fact_, because everybody, even the aforementioned backers, were favorable
to Morphy. What was to be done? Our hero, with his clear reasoning, soon
found the correct reply, and he sent back word that "The Chess Club being
a private association, it would be an impertinence on his part to use
their apartments without their permission." Harrwitz would not show
himself, and the entire affair was near being put a stop to, when certain
members of the _Cercle_ kindly opened the doors of their Club, and Morphy
went up stairs.

The two principals being again face to face, Harrwitz commenced with his
"same old two-and-sixpence" pawn to queen's fourth, and before he had got
past the twentieth move, Morphy had the attack, position, and every thing.
But, in process of administering the _coup de grace_, Morphy's feverish
state told upon him, and he committed an oversight which lost him a rook,
when within a move or two of winning. It was so stupid a mistake, that he
immediately burst out laughing at himself. Harrwitz picked off the
unfortunate rook with the utmost _nonchalance_, as though it were the
result of his own combinations, and actually told me afterwards, "Oh, the
game was a drawn one throughout." Morphy got a perpetual check upon him,
and it was the only "draw" in the contest.

What does the American Chess Monthly mean by calling this palpable
oversight "an imperfect combination?"

Again we had to wait some time for Mr. Harrwitz. It must not be supposed
that this gentleman used his frequent "leaves of absence" for the purpose
of recruiting that health which he represented as so bad. No, he came
daily to the _Régence_ at the usual hour, and played with anybody, but
Morphy, until past midnight. He sat down now, in front of his adversary,
for the eighth and last time, apparently in his ordinary health, and
fought as tough a battle as any in the contest. The game lasted to the
fifty-ninth move, and then Harrwitz resigned.

The score now stood, Morphy 5; Harrwitz 2; drawn 1. Next day Morphy
received a verbal message that "Mr. Harrwitz resigns the match, on account
of ill health." There was something like a row at the _Café de la Régence_
when this was known, for the Prussian amateur had not even deigned to
consult his backers, or even to inform them of his intention. Mr.
Lequesne, his stake-holder, was requested by him to hand over the
collected amount, two hundred and ninety francs, to our hero, and that
gentleman forthwith called on Morphy at his hotel. Of course we got the
fullest particulars from Mr. Lequesne. He informed us that Harrwitz's
backers were furious, and that they, like himself, were confident that
their principal was merely indisposed in the _morale_, not at all
physically. Morphy replied that it never was his desire to play for stakes
under any circumstances; and, taking into consideration the peculiar facts
of the case, he would certainly decline receiving the money.

Some time afterwards, Mr. Lequesne returned, and stated that not merely
were the different subscribers to the stakes desirous that Paul Morphy
should receive what had been won by him, but that Mr. Harrwitz would, for
the sake of appeasing his backers, play out the remainder of the match.
Morphy immediately returned answer, that "Mr. H. having resigned the
contest, there was an end of the matter, but that he (Morphy) was ready to
commence a second match immediately." Harrwitz had had enough of beating,
and he unhesitatingly declined this proposition.

But a difficulty arose in consequence of Morphy's refusal to receive the
stakes. Letters poured in from all quarters, complaining that bets on the
result of the contest were influenced by the decision, and Morphy finally
took the two hundred and ninety francs from Mr. Lequesne. He then caused
it to be announced publicly, that the money was deposited with the
proprietor of the _Café de la Régence_, that any of the subscribers to the
amount were at perfect liberty to withdraw their subscriptions, and that
the remainder should go towards defraying Herr Anderssen's expenses to
Paris. And so the money was eventually used.

Will any of my readers think it possible that Mr. Harrwitz could, after
all this, publish that "he had not lost the match, but that Mr. Morphy had
consented to its being annulled?"




CHAPTER XII.

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'oeuvre_ 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.'"

The United States minister, the Hon. Mr. Mason, took a warm interest in
his young countryman, occasionally sitting at the board when Morphy was at
play. The Judge is acquainted with the "Mystery of Chesse," and asked many
pointed questions after the conclusion of the game, as to the why and the
wherefore of different moves. It were scarcely right for the United
States government to appoint a minister to the Court of the Tuileries who
is ignorant of chess; it would be an insult to the memory of Franklin.




CHAPTER XIII.

MORPHY AND THE FRENCH AMATEURS.


Morphy's arrival in Paris, and his doings at the Café de la Régence, soon
began to make him much sought after. The way in which some folks get
lionized in the French capital is remarkable, and Morphy had to submit to
it, not merely at the café, but even in his hotel. We soon found that
continued residence at the _Hotel Meurice_ would be inconvenient, for many
reasons; and within a day or two of our arrival, had located ourselves in
the _Hotel Breteuil_, at the corner of the _Rues de Rivoli_ and _du
Dauphine_, where we had a magnificent view of the palace and gardens of
the Tuileries, and were within a stone's throw of the best quarters of
Paris and the _Régence_. What was our surprise to learn, subsequently,
that Harrwitz was residing next door to us; and that Saint Amant had,
formerly, occupied the very apartments in which we had installed
ourselves. We had not been long in our new abode before Morphy received a
visit from the grandson of Philidor. They had a lengthy colloquy together,
and of course Morphy asked his visitor if he played at chess. He replied,
that he once gave some attention to the game, but found that he possessed
little aptitude for it, and therefore relinquished all further study; not
thinking it right that any one bearing the name of Philidor should be
looked upon as a _mazette_.

Our hero's installation at the Café de la Régence waked up all the
slumbering embers of French chess, and men who had not been seen for years
past came back to their early love. The well-known Polish amateur,
Budzinsky, was amongst these, and Laroche, contemporary of Labourdonnais
and Deschappelles. Then we found there such players as Mr. Eugene
Rousseau, of New Orleans, on a visit to his family in Paris, and who had
been so much "at home" in the café in other years. How proud he was of the
fame and feats of his young fellow-townsman amidst the Gallic paladins!
and how desirous he was that Morphy should encounter Monsieur Laroche,
whose game he characterized as sound to a terrible extent, characterizing
that gentleman as "_un rude gaillard_." It was only after Mr. Rousseau's
departure that Laroche and Morphy met, when we found that the former was
"sound," but the latter "sounder." Mr. L. had not been seen at the Régence
for a long period; some told us that he was settled in Bayonne, others
that he had given up chess altogether: but the appearance in the chess
heavens of this Star of the West, brought him back to the old
battle-field, and no one could make even games with him but De Rivière
and Harrwitz, the Prussian amateur merely winning a small majority.

Monsieur Journoud, one of the best known and strongest of French players,
and a member of the Paris Committee of Co-operation on the International
Tournament of 1851, played upwards of a dozen games at different times
with Morphy; but though he came very near winning on one or two occasions,
our hero always wriggled out at last at the right end of the horn.
Journoud once described his opponent's game as "disgustingly correct;"
Boden speaks of Morphy's "diabolical steadiness," which means pretty near
the same thing.

De Rivière certainly made the best show against Morphy of all the players
in Paris, having scored one game in good style, and having lost at least
one which he ought to have gained. He had got his opponent into a position
which might be termed "putting it to him," and Morphy, like the wolf,
was--

    "Dying in silence, biting hard,"

when he made a move "to please the gallery." Now Morphy never allows
liberties to be taken with so serious a matter as check mate; he goes
straight to the finish himself without fuss or nonsense, and expects
others to do the same; he, therefore, worked clear out of his difficulties
and forced his opponent ultimately to resign. De Rivière was mortified at
the result, and states that he went home very angry with himself in
consequence.

This gentleman is incontestably the most rising of the French players, and
will make some amateurs tremble for their chess reputation ere long. In
1851, he did not know a move in the game, so that his progress has been
rapid; and as he has not yet reached his thirtieth year, it is only
probable that he will become much stronger; that is, if he will keep up
his practice, which is not certain, inasmuch as he has lately become
"mated" in a manner most agreeable to his feelings, and we have heard of
ladies who object to their lords and masters making love to other
nymphs--even though that nymph be Caïssa. Let us hope that, in this
instance, pater familias, whose "intentions are strictly honorable," may
be allowed an occasional respite from the cradle and perambulator, and
that "curtain lectures" will not deter him from hot pursuit after other
men's queens.

It was soon found useless for any one to play Morphy even, as he scored
almost every game. Meeting Monsieur Laroche at the café one morning, that
gentleman asked me why our hero did not offer odds to everybody. I replied
that no doubt many gentlemen would feel hurt at such a proposition being
made to them, and I asked him--"Would you play Morphy at pawn and move?"
to which he unhesitatingly replied "Yes." M. Journoud was sitting beside
him, and he expressed himself in like manner. On informing Paul Morphy of
this conversation, he requested me to inform the proprietor of the café
that, in future, he should play no one without giving odds; excepting,
however, Herr Harrwitz. He was most desirous of again meeting the Prussian
amateur, the latter having made some rather peculiar observations with
regard to their match; as, for instance, that he had not lost the affair,
Morphy having consented to annul it: that he was not a match player, and
played much stronger off-hand: that Morphy did not beat him by
combination, _but by sitting him out_, and so forth. But Harrwitz always
took care to keep out of harm's way, and although Morphy came day after
day to the café, with the avowed intention of meeting him, Herr H. had
always got one or the other reason for not playing.

Laroche, Budzinsky, Devinck, and other leading amateurs tried their luck
at pawn and move, with no better result than contending even. Others tried
at pawn and two, as, for instance, Lequesne, Guibert, Lecrivain, and
Delaunay. Who of my chess readers does not know this brilliant writer in
the Palamède, who has kept everybody on the broad grin throughout his
numerous articles? He is always full of fun and sparkling wit, and merrily
did he display it with Morphy. The first time they played, Delaunay
sacrificed piece after piece, in a way to terrify anybody but his young
antagonist, and certainly seemed to occupy a position dangerous to
Morphy's peace of mind. The latter made one of his peculiar moves, when
Delaunay observed, eyeing the board with one eye, and the spectators with
the other--"_Voila un coup du bon Dieu_," and then making his reply, which
set our hero reflecting, he added--"_Et, en voila un du diable._" But it
was all of no use, and Morphy soon turned the tables upon him. M. Delaunay
styles himself "_un casse échiquier_," for he plays as though driving
spike nails. At the London Divan some months since he astonished the
spectators by breaking one of the pawns, when he immediately cried
out--"Oh, that's nothing; I break the rooks in Paris."

Morphy was easily approached by anybody, no matter what their strength,
and I doubt much whether there is any frequenter of the Régence who did
not play one or more games with him. As he invariably refused to play for
any stake, this pleased them the more, and set them making comparisons
between him and certain others, not at all complimentary to the latter.
But what pleased them most of all was the quiet unobtrusiveness of his
behavior, and the courtesy with which he treated everybody. Where his
skill gained one admirer, his manner made ten warm friends.

Some of my readers may complain that I am "laying it on rather thick," and
ask "Why shouldn't he be quiet and unobtrusive?" I reply that I am not to
be deterred from writing what I know to be the fact (having been a witness
thereof for several months) by any accusation of toadyism. I write what
George Walker, Saint Amant, Löwenthal, and all the chess editors Morphy
has met, have written before me; and they wrote as I now write, because
the circumstance is rather extraordinary. Chess players, generally, are a
class vain and imperious; and young players, like the young of all
classes, are apt to be carried away by success. How few eminent amateurs
are there who do not give themselves certain airs when winning--aye, and
losing too--lolling back in their seats, sticking their thumbs in their
arm-holes, and regarding the spectators with a self-satisfied air, as much
as to say--"There, my boys, what d'ye think of that?" One gentleman at the
Régence had long bullied the gallery and his antagonists in this manner;
no wonder, therefore, that Morphy made warm friends of those who were that
man's enemies.




CHAPTER XIV.

MORPHY GETS BEATEN.


A few weeks after the resignation of the match by Herr Harrwitz, the
amateurs of the Régence invited Herr Anderssen to visit Paris for the
purpose of playing a match with Paul Morphy. Our hero originally intended
making a visit to the principal chess clubs of Germany, and especially to
Berlin, but having been an invalid since his arrival in the French
capital, he feared to undertake the long journey by rail, and it was in
consequence of this that the aforesaid invitation was sent. Herr Anderssen
immediately replied, that his duties as mathematical professor at Breslau
presented an insurmountable objection to his leaving, but that the
Christmas vacation would enable him to meet the American player in Paris.

Morphy said, thereupon, that he should be deprived of the pleasure of
crossing swords with the victor in the International Tournament, inasmuch
as he must be at home before Christmas. On hearing this, I began to talk
the matter over quietly with him, asserting that his voyage to Europe was
useless, if he did not play Anderssen. All was of no effect. Morphy did
not appear to have the slightest ambition, say what I would to him. He
must be at home in December; he had promised to be there, and home he
would go. Very well; Morphy and I were at daggers drawn and we began our
fight. He said he would go, and I said he shouldn't. He wanted to know how
I could prevent him; I told him that all the clubs in Europe would stop
him. "Very well," answered he, "I'll be stronger than all Europe."
"Bravo," says I, "that's spirited, at all events." Says he--says I--says
I--says he--and Morphy went to sleep and I to work.

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.

Going into Morphy's bedroom one morning at ten o'clock, whom should I find
sitting there but Herr Anderssen? He had arrived by a late train the night
previous, and his first visit was to his young challenger, whom he was
indeed sorry to find ill in bed, especially as his absence from Breslau
was limited to two weeks. Morphy assured him that he should be well enough
to play the following week; but Anderssen replied that he should not like
to commence a match until Morphy was in a fit state to undergo the
fatigue. They then agreed that the match should consist of thirteen games;
in other words, he should be victor who first scored seven; and, as
neither of them desired any stake but honor, the preliminaries were
quickly arranged. From that we got to talking on various subjects, and
Anderssen informed us, greatly to our surprise, that the German papers had
published a statement to this effect: "Mr. Morphy has finally decided on
remaining in Europe until spring, in consequence of the pressing
solicitations of his friend, Herr Harrwitz." How we roared!

This was Anderssen's first visit to the French metropolis, and I
immediately offered to show him some of the lions. So forth we sallied. He
was desirous of going to the Régence; but two hours would elapse before
anybody would be there, and in the mean time he could see a few public
buildings. The first place I took him to was, of course, the Louvre, and,
as it had rained copiously the night before, I walked him across the
_Place du Carrousel_, in order to soil his boots with the mud. Most of his
attention was taken up with keeping that portion of his attire clean; but,
when that had become no longer possible, his leisure was entirely devoted
to sight-seeing. Of course, we could not altogether avoid talking about
the main object of his visit; he told me he had only seen a few of
Morphy's games, and asked me what was the opinion of the Régence in
reference to his style of play. I replied that it was the opposite of what
they thought in England and America, characterizing it as sound rather
than brilliant; but that there was a reason for this, inasmuch as the
French players persisted in playing close openings. He replied, "No
wonder; no man would willingly expose himself to Morphy's thundering
attacks," [attaques foudroyantes.]

On returning to the Régence, we found Harrwitz, who, by-the-bye, is a
fellow-townsman of Anderssen, and they were at the same school together.
The latter knew that Harrwitz stated that he beat him the majority of
games, and he was most desirous of proving the fallacy of the assertion,
and immediately proposed an encounter. This was accepted, and out of six
games, played on five different occasions, Anderssen won three, Harrwitz
one, and two were drawn. After that, little doubt existed as to which was
the stronger player, and when, just before leaving Paris, Anderssen was
complimented on this result, he said, "Oh, there is but one Morphy in the
world."

On the day of Anderssen's arrival, Morphy told his medical adviser that he
must get him well enough to commence the match on the following Monday.
The doctor said it all depended upon his feeling sufficiently strong to
undergo the fatigue, when his patient replied, that what he feared was a
hard battle exhausting him too much to continue the struggle next day. On
the doctor's advice, he consented to play the match in the hotel, so as
not to undergo the fatigue of moving, and it was arranged that only such
as were specially invited should be present, but that the moves should be
forwarded every half-hour to the Régence.

The Saturday before the commencement of the match, Harrwitz performed his
feat of playing eight blindfold games simultaneously at the rooms of the
Cercle, only subscribers of five francs or upwards being admitted. Herr
Harrwitz had fixed upon seven o'clock in the evening as the time for
commencing; and I, like many others, had advised him to choose an earlier
hour, or he would not get through till long past midnight. He replied that
he should finish in from four to five hours; "he knew this positively
because he had been rehearsing for the occasion;" but the result proved
how much he was mistaken, as he did not get through till near sunrise. His
antagonists were mainly rook or rook and knight players, Signor Préti, the
weakest of Morphy's blindfold opponents, being incomparably the strongest.
Herr Anderssen, who was present, assured me that many of the players left
pieces _en prise_, as though designedly, and that, beyond the fact of
seeing the boards in his mind's eye, Harrwitz proved nothing by his
exertions. The strangest affair in connection with this display is, that
although Harrwitz edited a chess column in the _Monde Illustré_ he never
gave a single one of his blindfold games, nor would he permit any to be
made public.

Mr. Harrwitz was perfectly in his right mind when endeavoring to emulate
Paul Morphy. But the folks at the Régence ridiculed what they called aping
his superior, and many were the squibs got off at his expense. One, the
most popular of all, was as follows:--

    "Tu veux singer Morphy, joueur phénoménal;
      Jeune imprudent, tu forces ta nature.
    En vain tu te poses en original,
      Tu n'en es que la caricature."

In plain English prose--"You wish to ape Morphy, the phenomenon; imprudent
young man, you strain yourself. It is useless to put yourself forward as
an original; you are merely a caricature."--Not complimentary, certainly.

On Monday morning, I got Morphy out of bed for the first time since his
illness, and, at noon, assisted him into the room where the match was to
come off. No time was lost in getting to work, and, within five minutes of
his entering, as many moves had been played. Our hero had first move, and
ventured the Evans' gambit, which he lost after seven hours' fighting, and
upwards of seventy moves. I noticed that he was restless throughout the
contest, which was only to be expected after having been so long in bed,
and without nourishment.

Morphy was charmed with Anderssen's defence throughout, and has frequently
cited it as an admirably conducted strategy. It proved to him that the
Evans' is indubitably a lost game for the first player, if the defence be
carefully played; inasmuch as the former can never recover the gambit
pawn, and the position supposed to be acquired at the outset, cannot be
maintained.

He did not appear much fatigued after his exertions, and next morning he
had visibly improved in appearance. Anderssen, now having the move, played
out his king's pawn and knight, and Morphy supposed he too was going to
have a turn at the Evans'. No such thing; he played that disgusting
arrangement, the Ruy Lopez; but it only came to a drawn game, our hero
believing he himself could have won it, had he played properly at the end.
The third day, Morphy looked himself again, his complexion being clear,
and his eyes sparkling with all their Creole brilliancy. He thought he
should like to have a turn at the Ruy Lopez also, and dashed away at such
a furious rate, that Anderssen resigned in a few minutes over the hour,
some twenty-one moves having been played. Anderssen immediately asked if
he would commence another game forthwith, and Morphy consented; this
fourth contest being also a Ruy Lopez, but ending likewise in the
discomfiture of the Prussian champion. And this _partie_ was the last we
saw of R. L. during the struggle.

Morphy now scored the fifth, sixth, and seventh games, thus having won
five consecutively. The eighth was a draw; the ninth he carried off in
seventeen moves; the tenth, played immediately after, Anderssen marked in
seventy-seven. As the Professor was leaving, he said to me in his quiet,
funny way, "Mr. Morphy wins his games in Seventeen moves, and I in
Seventy. But that is only natural." The eleventh _partie_ Morphy scored,
thus winning the match; having only lost two games and drawn two.

Immediately after each day's play, Herr Anderssen would walk straight to
the Régence for the purpose of expediting reports of the same to his
friends in Leipsic and Berlin. There were always crowds to meet him, and
to assure him he could have won, and ought not to have lost; but the
Professor smiled at them incredulously. I have heard him tell them, "Dites
cela à M. Morphy," (Tell that to Mr. Morphy,) over and over again. One
individual, who from the beginning, had questioned Morphy's
superiority,--though he had been beaten by him in the proportion of 7 to
1--told the Professor in the presence of a crowd of amateurs: "You are not
playing any thing like as well as with Dufresne."--"No," replied
Anderssen, "Morphy won't let me;" and he added, "It is no use struggling
against him; he is like a piece of machinery which is sure to come to a
certain conclusion." On another occasion he said: "Mr. Morphy always
plays, not merely the best, but the very best move, and if we play the
move only approximatively correct, we are sure to lose. Nobody can hope to
gain more than a game, now and then, from him." And, in reply to a
question of Monsieur de Rivière, he said in my hearing: "It is impossible
to play chess better than Mr. Morphy; if there be any difference in
strength between him and Labourdonnais, it is in his favor."

I have never seen a nobler-hearted gentleman than Herr Anderssen. He would
sit at the board, examining the frightful positions into which Morphy had
forced him, until his whole face was radiant with admiration of his
antagonist's strategy, and, positively laughing outright, he would
commence resetting the pieces for another game, without a remark. I never
heard him make a single observation to Morphy complimentary of his skill;
but, to others, he was loud in admiration of the young American.

After the match was over, the two antagonists played six off-hand games,
all gambits, Anderssen winning one, and Morphy five. These also came off
at the Hotel Breteuil, and were rattled away inside of three hours.

The gallery of spectators who witnessed this great contest between the
champions of the Old World and the New, was select, if not numerous. There
were present, almost constantly, Saint Amant, De Rivière, Journoud,
Carlini, Préti, Grosboulogne, Lequesne, and one or two others, and amongst
the occasional visitors were Counts Casabianca and Bastorot, M. Devinck,
the Paris correspondent of the N. Y. Times, and any of our hero's
countrymen who desired to be present. One night, after the day's battle
was over, Morphy and I were sitting in our room, chatting together, when
an immense stranger appeared and announced himself as follows: "I am
Prince Galitzin; I wish to see Mr. Morphy." Morphy looked up from a
fauteuil in which he was buried, and replied, "I am he." The Prince
answered, "It is not possible! you're too young;" and then he seated
himself by Morphy's side and told him, "I first heard of your wonderful
deeds on the frontiers of Siberia. One of my suite had a copy of the chess
paper published in Berlin, the _Schachzeitung_, and ever since that time I
have been wanting to see you." And he told our hero that he must pay a
visit to St. Petersburg; for the chess club in the Imperial Palace would
receive him with enthusiasm. I did not hear Morphy promise to go, however.

But to return to Anderssen. The Professor came and went away in a hurry,
his vacations only lasting two weeks. As he wished us good-bye, he said
slyly to Morphy, "They won't be pleased with me at Berlin, but I shall
tell them, 'Mr. Morphy will come here.'"

After the conclusion of the match, I pointed out to Herr Anderssen certain
remarks on his play in the _Illustrated London News_, in which the writer
observed, "This is not the play of the victor of the Tournament of '51."
He replied--"Oh, we know Mr. Staunton; in 1851 his opinions of my play
were not very high, and he lost not by my skill, but because he was ill.
Mr. Staunton always has two meanings, one which he writes, and one which
he keeps to himself."

[Illustration: MR. LEWIS. MR. GEORGE WALKER. MR. MONGREDIEU.]




CHAPTER XVI.

MORPHY AND MONGREDIEU.


After Anderssen's departure, Paul Morphy declared he would play no more
even matches, and, certainly, his resolve was justified by the unheard-of
manner in which he had walked over all opponents. There are but two
players who do not confess the inutility of contending against him on even
terms--Messrs. Staunton and Harrwitz--but then the former would not fight,
and the latter fought and ran away, so that their opinions, with regard to
themselves and Morphy, are somewhat damaged by circumstances. The opinions
of these two gentlemen are, in fact, peculiar one towards the other; Mr.
Harrwitz declaring that he can give Mr. Staunton the odds of pawn and
move; and Mr. S., that he also can afford the same advantage to the
Prussian player. But no man in his senses believes either of them.

Morphy now determined to offer the pawn and move to Herr Harrwitz, and
forthwith challenged him to the contest, but the latter respectfully
declined, on the grounds that he considered himself quite as good a
player as his challenger. Modest, was it not? especially just after their
late match, and the _sauve qui peut_ manner in which the Prussian had
shown his heels before its conclusion? Morphy felt so much desire to play
this proposed match, that he even offered to find stakes to back his
antagonist, but all to no purpose. One or two croakers expressed their
opinion that Morphy would scarcely get a game if the affair came off, when
our hero replied--"If I do not beat him, he will at all events have to
work hard for the odd game."

Harrwitz having declined all further risk, there now remained little to be
accomplished, and Morphy forsook the Régence and seemed to have taken a
positive aversion to chess. There was, however, one more adversary to be
overcome; one, who, like Anderssen, sought out our hero in the French
capital, and threw down his gauntlet, which was immediately taken up. Mr.
Mongredieu, the President of the London Chess Club, made the journey to
Paris expressly to remind Paul Morphy that before his departure from
England, he had promised to play a match with him, and he now announced
himself as ready for the encounter. Mr. Mongredieu had no idea of
vanquishing his youthful foe, but in addition to the pleasure of a tilt
with him, he was desirous of seeing by how much Morphy could beat him.

The contest came off at Mr. Mongredieu's rooms in the Hotel du Louvre,
Messrs. St. Amant and De Rivière being the only strangers present. The
first game admirably played by Mr. M. resulted in a draw, and then Morphy
scored seven _parties_ one after the other, which constituted him victor.
The third game, beautifully managed throughout by Mr. Mongredieu, slipped
from his grasp after nine or ten hours' struggle; because of his not
playing _the very best move_, Morphy stepped in at the lucky moment and
the day was his. I can easily understand that Mr. Mongredieu was exhausted
after so many hours' intense application; Morphy never tires, and no
amount of continuous sitting will ever influence his play. I have seen him
sit down, in New York, at 9 A. M., and beat one antagonist after another
until past midnight, for many successive days, yet without weakening his
play in the least; and when Paulsen would take half an hour on a move, an
hour over the succeeding one, and on a certain occasion reached the
unparalleled limit of two hours, Morphy sat calmly looking on, without the
slightest evidence of impatience. Before Mr. Staunton declined Morphy's
challenge, I was frequently amused by gentlemen who knew the former well,
but knew little of the latter, expressing the opinion that the English
player would tire out his youthful challenger, and win by playing "a
waiting game." I laughed heartily at their fears, for I knew Morphy could
sit out Staunton and the late Mr. Williams one after the other. And I
think my readers must also be satisfied of this, remembering Morphy's _ten
hours' blindfold play at Paris, without taking even a glass of water, and
in bodily pain, too_.




CHAPTER XVII.

TROPHIES.


And now that the battles are over, and the campaigns of this "Attila the
destroyer" concluded, let us count the killed and wounded.


IN ENGLAND.

MATCH GAMES (EVEN.)

Morphy, 9. Löwenthal, 3. Drawn, 3.

PAWN AND MOVE.

Morphy, 5. Rev. J. Owen (Alter), 0. Drawn, 2.

OFF-HAND GAMES.

    Morphy, 19,    Barnes, 7,       Drawn, 0
       "    10,    Bird, 1,           "    1
       "     5,    Boden, 1,          "    3
       "     2,    Hampton, 0,        "    0
       "     2,    Kipping, 0,        "    0
       "     6,    Lowe, 0,           "    0
       "     3,    Medley, 0,         "    0
       "     2,    Mongredieu, 0,     "    0
       "     4,    Owen, 1,           "    0


CONSULTATION GAMES.

Staunton and Owen, 0. Morphy and Barnes, 2. Drawn, 0.

Löwenthal and Medley, 0. Morphy and Mongredieu, 0. Drawn, 1.

Löwenthal, Mongredieu, and Medley, 0. Morphy, Walker Greenaway, 0. Drawn,
1.


EIGHT GAMES BLINDFOLD AT BIRMINGHAM.

Morphy beat Lord Lyttelton, Doctors Salmon and Freeman, Messrs. Rhodes,
Wills and Carr; drew against Mr. Avery, and lost the game with Mr.
Kipping.

In addition to the above score there were many contests at odds, which it
is unnecessary to mention; Morphy being almost invariably successful.


IN FRANCE.

MATCH GAMES.

    Morphy,  7,    Anderssen, 2,    Drawn, 2
       "     5,    Harrwitz, 2,       "    1
       "     7,    Mongredieu, 0,     "    1

OFF-HAND GAMES (EVEN).

    Morphy,  5,    Anderssen, 1,    Drawn, 0
       "     2,    Bancker, 0,        "    0
       "     7,    Budzinsky, 0,      "    0
       "     0,    Harrwitz, 1,       "    0
       "    12,    Journoud, 0,       "    0
       "     5,    Laroche, 0,        "    2
       "     6,    Rivière, 1,        "    1

ODDS OF PAWN AND MOVE.

    Morphy,  5,    Budzinsky, 1,    Drawn, 1
       "     2,    Devinck, 0,        "    2
       "     1,    Guibert, 0,        "    0
       "     3,    Laroche, 0,        "    3

ODDS OF THE PAWN AND TWO MOVES.

    Morphy,  4,    Delaunay, 0,     Drawn, 0
      "      5,    Lecrivain, 2,      "    0
      "      3,    Lequesne, 0,       "    1

CONSULTATION GAMES.

    Morphy,  2,    Saint Amant and Lequesne, 0,    Drawn, 2
      "      0,    De Rivière and Journoud, 1,       "    0
      "      5,    Duke of Brunswick, Counts
                     Casabianca and Isouard, 0,      "    1
      "      5,    Duke of Brunswick and Count
                     Isouard, 0,                     "    0

BLINDFOLD GAMES.

     Morphy beat Messrs. Bancker, Bierwirth, Bornemann, Potier,
     Préti, and Seguin, and drew the games with Messrs. Guibert and
     Lequesne.

     At Versailles, Morphy, playing blindfolded, won against
     Monsieur Chamouillet and the Versailles Chess Club playing
     together against him, _in consultation_.

I should like to say something on the above score, but feel quite
incompetent to the task. I can merely state that no player who ever lived,
(of whom we know any thing,) can produce such a catalogue of victories.
Surely, it is not too much to declare, on the authority of so much proof,
that

     MORPHY CAN GIVE PAWN AND MOVE TO EVERY LIVING PLAYER.


VALEDICTORY.

Paul Morphy has vanquished the paladins of the Old and New Worlds, and
vaulted into the very throne of Labourdonnais and Philidor.

Is not this indeed a victory for him,--a triumph for his countrymen? Shall
not this youth be esteemed worthy of all honor, who, without experience,
has, by his own marvellous genius, eclipsed the brightness of those stars
which have flashed in the chess firmament before him?

Chess may be but a game, a pastime, a relaxation; but Chess has at times
absorbed the faculties of the intellectual in every clime; it numbers
amongst its amateurs the greatest names of battle-fields and thrones; it
tells of warriors, poets, painters, sculptors, statesmen and divines; it
possesses a literature and language of its own; it makes enemies friends,
and finds a temple on the ocean, in the fortress, and by the peaceful
fireside.

And long as Chess shall last, Paul Morphy's name will be as a "Household
Word," and his deeds be held in lasting memory.


THE END.




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TRANSCRIBERS' NOTES


Page 7. musquito as in original

Pages 16, 20. Variable hyphenation of master-pieces, masterpiece as in
original

Page 31. palladins as in original

Page 98. depreciatory as in original

Page 115. coryphoeus corrected to coryphaeus

Page 135. In the signature, Keneedy changed to Kennedy

Page 152. Algaier corrected to Allgaier

Illustration caption before page 197. MONGREDIEN standardised to
MONGREDIEU (this may be incorrect and a reference to Augustus
Mongredien).

General. The following words have variable accenting but have been left
as in the original as they are used in quotations: Café, Caïssa, défi,
Régence. Other accents have been standardised.

General. Variable spelling of McDonnel/McDonnell as in original

General. Variable spelling of Deschapelles/Deschappelles as in original

General. Variable spelling of Huttman/Huttmann as in original

General. Variable spelling of Zytogorsky/Zytogorosky as in original

General. Variable spelling of tournay/tourney as in original

General. Variable capitalisation of Street/street in street names as in
original