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 cafe. 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 Regence, and asking
particulars of the _habitues_ 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 _Cafe de la Regence_ 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 cafe, 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 cafe. 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 cafe, numbered as follows:--
No. 1. Baucher,
2. Bierwirth,
3. Bornemann,
4. Guibert,
5. Lequesne,
6. Potier,
7. Preti,
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 Riviere 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 "Pere 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 Preti 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 Preti 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
Cafe 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 Cafe. A well-known citizen of
New York, Thomas Bryan, Esq., got on one side of him and M. de Riviere on
the other, and "Le Pere 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 cafe, and the shouting, if possible, more deafening.
Morphy, Messrs. Bryan and De Riviere 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 cafe 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 cafe, 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 Regence in a state only fit for a hot bath and sweating powder. Well
might Saint Amant call him the "chivalrous Bayard of Chess."