The Exploits and Triumphs, in Europe, of Paul Morphy, the Chess Champion

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.