MORPHY AND THE FRENCH AMATEURS.
Morphy's arrival in Paris, and his doings at the Cafe de la Regence, 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 cafe, 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 _Regence_. 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 Cafe de la Regence 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 cafe 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 Regence
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 Riviere
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 Riviere 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 Riviere 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 Caissa. 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 cafe 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 cafe
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 cafe, 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 Palamede, 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 echiquier_," 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 Regence 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, Loewenthal, 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
Regence 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.