MORPHY GETS BEATEN.
A few weeks after the resignation of the match by Herr Harrwitz, the
amateurs of the Regence invited Herr Anderssen to visit Paris for the
purpose of playing a match with Paul Morphy. Our hero originally intended
making a visit to the principal chess clubs of Germany, and especially to
Berlin, but having been an invalid since his arrival in the French
capital, he feared to undertake the long journey by rail, and it was in
consequence of this that the aforesaid invitation was sent. Herr Anderssen
immediately replied, that his duties as mathematical professor at Breslau
presented an insurmountable objection to his leaving, but that the
Christmas vacation would enable him to meet the American player in Paris.
Morphy said, thereupon, that he should be deprived of the pleasure of
crossing swords with the victor in the International Tournament, inasmuch
as he must be at home before Christmas. On hearing this, I began to talk
the matter over quietly with him, asserting that his voyage to Europe was
useless, if he did not play Anderssen. All was of no effect. Morphy did
not appear to have the slightest ambition, say what I would to him. He
must be at home in December; he had promised to be there, and home he
would go. Very well; Morphy and I were at daggers drawn and we began our
fight. He said he would go, and I said he shouldn't. He wanted to know how
I could prevent him; I told him that all the clubs in Europe would stop
him. "Very well," answered he, "I'll be stronger than all Europe."
"Bravo," says I, "that's spirited, at all events." Says he--says I--says
I--says he--and Morphy went to sleep and I to work.
Without saying a word to anybody, I set to writing letters to all the
leading Chess Clubs on the Continent and in England, informing them of the
bad move Morphy was about to make, and requesting those in the interests
of chess to induce him to remain, until at all events he had met Herr
Anderssen. Now, the mere fact of Morphy staying, as the simple individual,
was nothing; but it was something to make sure beyond all dispute that he
was infallibly the best living player; and, in addition, to add many games
to the finest pages of chess literature. I am happy to state that the
different clubs thought as I did; so the result will prove.
After a week or two, Morphy began receiving letters from Amsterdam,
Leipsic, Brussels, Berlin, Breslau, etc.; from the London and St. George's
Chess Clubs; requisitions signed by the amateurs of the Cafe and Cercle
de la Regence, expressing the earnest wish of all that he would remain
throughout the winter. Herr Anderssen wrote him a lengthy epistle, in
which he assured him he did not think it possible he could leave Europe
without playing him, and adding his voice to the general cry.
Morphy thought he must go. Then the society in which our hero was so
frequent a visitor began to declare that he really must remain, and it is
hard work for any man to refuse when a request is backed by such sweet
glances as make requests almost commands.
Our hero was now wavering, and the game was in my hands, he not at all
sorry if I could win it. I had one final resource: a pretty little
check-mate with a medical man and a certificate. The doctor, calling on
our patient one day, learned from him that he was about returning home,
whereupon he informed him that in the then state of his health a winter
voyage across the Atlantic was not precisely beneficial, and wrote his
opinion accordingly. This I took, and inclosed with other matter to his
friends in New Orleans, and Morphy seeing no way out of the difficulty,
ultimately surrendered, and I had the satisfaction of hearing him declare
that he should pass the winter in Paris. There was only one person
dissatisfied with this. Meeting Harrwitz shortly after, I informed him
with a benignant smile, "You will be happy to hear that Morphy has decided
to pass a few months longer here." Harrwitz replied, with a smile that was
not benignant, "Then Mr. Morphy _is not a man of his word_."