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 change 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, Marechal 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 Caissa, 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
Loewenthal'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
Caissa? The Cafe de la Regence 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 Cafe de la Regence, 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
cafe.
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, Hoerwitz, Kling,--in fact all the great living celebrities--make
it their house of call when in London, whilst the brilliant _corps
d'elite_ composing the phalanx of English players--Loewenthal, 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 Caissa 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_ cafe. 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. Caissa 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 L5 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 L10 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 habitues 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 Caissa 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 L30,000. 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 Loewenthals,
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 Caissa; 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 soirees 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 _debris_ 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 encyclopaedist, Alexandre, made a
lamentable _fiasco_ at his Cafe de l'Echiquier in Paris; an establishment
which he vainly hoped would entice away the _habitues_ of the Cafes de la
Regence 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 Caissa 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
Caissa, 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 Loewenthal 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 Loewenthal, 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 societe_ 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 Caissa? 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 _Palamede_, and _La
Regence_, 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 Hoerwitz 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 L50 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 Loewenthal, 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 Caissa.