There have in recent years been annually about eight or ten
chess patrons who have contributed more to promote high class
chess than all the rest of her Majesty's subjects, and remarkable
as it may appear, with one exception there is not one titled, or
what would be deemed very distinguished name among them.
250 pounds to 300 pounds a year is an ample sum for necessary first
class chess competitions, but nothing like that has been raised
under present auspices in this great Metropolis since 1883, or on
the average for many years. There are some who will buy chess
books who would not care to play at least in a public room on any
conditions; there are, on the other hand, some who drop their
shillings freely at chess without the slightest instruction or
improvement who would scorn to buy a chess book. Even "California"
who greatly desired to improve and apparently cared little about
expense, and with his double or quits propensity in play would not
deign to notice a chess book. One said that this amateur possessed
all the requisites of a loser playing very fastly, very badly and
risking very rashly. One morning about twelve before chess hours
at the Cafe International, New York, whilst writing I was accosted
by a tall and fashionable looking American whom I had seen once
or twice before playing with Mackenzie or Mason, but had never
spoken to. "I see you are busy," said he. "It is not particularly
pressing for the moment," said I, placing my work aside. He
then commenced to interview me concerning Morphy, asking my
opinion and description of him in every conceivable manner;
Staunton, Buckle, Anderssen, Steinitz and Blackburne followed
in rapid succession. All things temporal have an end and a
welcome pause came in this case. Taking up a chess book lying
by my side which happened to be a gilt copy of Chess Masterpieces,
just out, he said, "How much might that book be?" "Oh! about
a dollar," said I. He replied, "I guess that's a pretty tall book,
but times are bad and I guess I cannot invest a dollar on that ere
book." I found he was one of the non-purchasing class but had
the gambling element. "I will play you a game for a dollar if
you will give me the odds of a Rook." "I cannot give it you,"
said I, "but will try the Knight for the usual quarter." He
would take nothing less than a Rook and for half-a-dollar, so I
made the attempt and he seem'd to play far too well for the odds,
kept his advantage for a time well and my prospects or the
prospects of my half-dollar were not encouraging, the game
toughened, however, and I got a passed Pawn. It was as Monsieur
would say "nothing," but it seem'd to bother him immensely. He
brought four pieces to stop that poor little Pawn when one would
have done, utterly ignoring the policy of economy of force, his
game consequently got disarranged and he lost, after about an
hour's fighting, No. 1. He proposed another, played wretchedly,
and lost No. 2; worse and worse he played always wanting to
increase his stake, but I remained true to the classics and would
not deviate from the time-honoured stake. As it was I had to draw
seven dollars which my opponent parted with most pleasantly,
asked me to have a cigar and a nerver, and said I was a wonderful
player. He felt that he had a fair look in. Had he bought the
book the bare possibility of an injudicious purchase might have
preyed upon his mind; the book however was fairly priced. In
New York the ten dollar game arose in this way, receiving Rook,
Pawn and three moves, I lost on balance ten games, 5 dollars, and
demanded double or quits which I was forced to comply with.
Passed pawns bothered him also. I was New York Sun Chess
Editor and not a chess book investor.
Some have been known to accumulate chess libraries which
frequently get dispersed, a copy of Lolli sold for 5 pounds,
another equally good for 2/6. The difference between two-pence and
170 pounds for Caxton represents the largest profit yet recorded
on a chess book. A copy of Mr. Christie's little work on the Greek
and Roman Theory (1799) should be valuable.
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