THE CAFE DE LA REGENCE.
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 Cafe de la
Regence.
Probably many of my readers will not think so, but that does not alter the
fact. I name that cafe, 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 cafe.
In Paris, every other house is a cafe. The inhabitants are divided into
two classes:--waiters at the cafe, and--frequenters of the cafe. Paris
never existed until coffee was introduced. Paris is merely a big cafe, and
is a product of the Mocha berry.
Every cafe 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 Cafe de la Regence 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 Cafe de la Regence and the Cafe 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 Regence 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 Regie_.
The second object was a massive individual, with Titanic shoulders, whom
we afterwards learned was Monsieur Morel, or, as they call him there, "Le
pere 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 Riviere 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 cafe 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 cafe_, who passes half his
existence in such establishments, and the other half in bed. The Cafe de
la Regence 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 Cafe de la Regence 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 cafe is separated
into two rooms on the Rue St. Honore; 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 cafe'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 cafe. The association had
three rooms set apart for chess, and one for billiards, and Saint Amant,
Devinck, Guibert, Preti, 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 cafe 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 Riviere 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 Riviere 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.