Kitabı oku: «The Exploits and Triumphs, in Europe, of Paul Morphy, the Chess Champion», sayfa 8
CHAPTER VII
MORPHY IN FRANCE
On the last day of last August, I awakened Paul Morphy at an early hour. The Folkestone train left London Bridge at 9 55 A. M., and there was some twenty minutes of hard driving to get to the railway station; but Morphy came down to breakfast with admirable sang froid, took his own time at the meal, laughed at my fears of being too late, and got into a cab at least ten minutes later than we ought to have done. We arrived at the depot in time to see the doors shut in our faces. Now this was not agreeable, inasmuch as there was no other train for Paris, by that line, during the day. I therefore proposed to Morphy that we should stroll about until half-past one o'clock in the afternoon, and then take the route through Dover and Calais, to which he assented.
The trip across the Straits of Dover is neither long nor pleasant, and Mr. Morphy was dreadfully sea-sick; but his mind was preoccupied with his forthcoming campaigns in la Belle France, and he observed to me, "Well, now I am going to meet Harrwitz! I shall beat him in the same proportion as I beat Löwenthal, although he is a better match-player than Löwenthal. But I shall play better with Harrwitz." Some of my readers may object to such an observation; but those who know Morphy, know that he speaks from thorough acquaintance with his opponents' capabilities, and conviction of his own superiority – not from any improper feeling of pride.
People suffering from sea-sickness generally recognize the truth of the maxim, "It is better to give than to receive: " you have much difficulty in getting them to take any thing, even fat pork; but if you watch your opportunity, when the will is stronger than the deed, and induce them to worry down a modicum of champagne well up, you infuse new life into them. So I requested the steward to make us acquainted with his Silléry Mousseux, and Morphy and I toasted each other on the deck of the steamboat. On my asking him immediately afterwards how he felt, he allowed that he was better; adding, however, that he believed it was nothing but imagination which worked the cure.
It was but a short run to the pier of Calais, and the sea-sickness was forgotten when our feet again touched terra firma. On landing, we got into a slight difficulty. Morphy speaks the French language with the purest Gallic accent, and the officials would not at first consent to his travelling with a United States passport. This our hero soon cleared up by reading the gens d'armes a précis of the settlement, manners, customs, &c., of the State of Louisiana, and his own antecedents; whereupon that official restored him his papier règlé, but confiscated a quantity of underlinen. They told us that was Customary.
Eight o'clock in the evening; and if we took the train forthwith, we should arrive in Paris next morning at six. Morphy proposed that we should sleep there that night, and take an early train the following day, which course would enable us to see the town of Calais. So we repaired to the Hotel Dessin, attended to our inner and outer man, and then prepared for a stroll. As the result of our observations, we agreed Calais must have been a magnificent town before the discovery of the principles of architecture. After diligent inquiry, we could not learn that any one knew when the last house was built, and Morphy gave it as his opinion that, were William the Conqueror to revisit Calais, he would find it unchanged, except in being dirtier. When I reminded him that the town possessed peculiar interest for me as an Englishman, he coolly set me down, by observing that he had a very poor opinion of my ancestors for wishing to keep such a place.
The next morning we got into the train at a quarter to eight o'clock, and commenced the long, dreary ride of ten mortal hours to Paris. But there was no way out of the difficulty, and, what with yawning and dozing between the stations, and grumbling at the tedious regulation speed of the French railways, we ultimately arrived at the capital. Now every traveller, on getting to this point, thinks he is bound to paint the various emotions arising in his breast on entering the city of the Seine. My own sensations were of strong Anglican bias. I wanted to dine. Morphy is never betrayed into rhapsody, and what he felt he didn't speak.
Having again submitted our baggage to the inspection of numerous officials, we thanked our stars for seeing the last of the Chemin de Fer du Nord, – drove off to Meurice's, where they gave us rooms about the fifteenth story, – started for the Restaurant des Trois Frères Provençaux, and got a capital dinner, and then addressed ourselves to the duties of flaneurs. I knew the French capital like a gamin de Paris; and, without saying a word to Morphy of my intention, I led him quietly down the Palais Royal, past the Théâtre Français, and right into the Café de la Régence.
CHAPTER VIII
THE CAFÉ DE LA RÉGENCE
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 Café de la Régence.
Probably many of my readers will not think so, but that does not alter the fact. I name that café, 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 café.
In Paris, every other house is a café. The inhabitants are divided into two classes: – waiters at the café, and – frequenters of the café. Paris never existed until coffee was introduced. Paris is merely a big café, and is a product of the Mocha berry.
Every café 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 Café de la Régence 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 Café de la Régence and the Café 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 Régence 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 Régie. The second object was a massive individual, with Titanic shoulders, whom we afterwards learned was Monsieur Morel, or, as they call him there, "Le père 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 Rivière 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 café 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 café, who passes half his existence in such establishments, and the other half in bed. The Café de la Régence 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 Café de la Régence 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 café is separated into two rooms on the Rue St. Honoré; 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 café'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 café. The association had three rooms set apart for chess, and one for billiards, and Saint Amant, Devinck, Guibert, Préti, 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 café 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 Rivière 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 Rivière 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.
CHAPTER IX
THE MATCH BETWEEN MORPHY AND HARRWITZ
Saturday came, and so did Harrwitz. We found him a little man, of about forty, with finely-developed head, and large, piercing black eyes. In conversation, he is exceedingly witty and "cool," and many are the good things told of him. Some of my readers will remember the rebuke he gave Mr. Staunton, when playing his celebrated match with that gentleman. Harrwitz had made a move which caused much reflection to his opponent, who rolled about on his chair and stroked his forehead energetically, as only Mr. Staunton can do, giving spectators the impression that his brain was in an agony of labor. He examined the position, and re-examined it; but, the more he looked, the less he liked it. Savage at being balked, he exclaimed – "Well, I've lost a move," and thereupon played a piece. Harrwitz coolly rises from his seat, rings the bell frantically, and gives the following order: "Waiter, look about for a move; Mr. Staunton has lost one."
There is probably no man living who plays so much chess as Herr Harrwitz. All great chess players I know of, are great lie-a'beds, and he is no exception to the rule. His night-gear and he part company many hours after sunrise, and he starts forthwith for the Café de la Régence, where he plays, with only a slight intermission for dinner, until he goes home to bed again. His opponents are generally visitors to the café, not the habitués; for these last have taken great dislike to his very offensive manner, and will not contend with him. They say, too, that he evinces an improper desire to win, and, in consequence, will only give the odds of pawn and move, when he could well afford pawn and two, and the knight instead of the rook. In my character of historian, I am bound to state that the feeling was very intense at the Régence in favor of Morphy, and many the prayers (French prayers) that Harrwitz might succumb to him.
The two celebrities shook hands together, and Morphy immediately asked if he would consent to play a match. The fact is, the young Paul meant mischief. Everybody in England was loud in praise of Harrwitz's skill, and prophesied a tough encounter. There was reason in this; for the Prussian player has given himself up, body and soul, to the game. Staunton's literary avocations now permit him but an hour or two weekly for chess, although formerly he lived in the London Divan, as Harrwitz in the Régence, and was so rabid about Caïssa, that he actually wore shirts with kings, rooks, pawns, etc., printed over the bosoms and tails. Saint Amant was never a professional chess player, merely regarding it as a pastime. Löwenthal's duties as chess editor and analyst, prevent his giving much time to play, and, although he devotes a certain period weekly to the contests at the London, St. George's, and St. James's Clubs, he seldom contends for any stake. Anderssen is absorbed in mathematics at the Breslau Gymnasium; Heyderbrandt's diplomatic career engages nearly his entire attention; Buckle has forgotten his former love; Boden, Bird, Medley, Walker, Mongredieu, Slous, Kipping, De Rivière, Laroche, are engaged in mercantile pursuits; Lowe is getting rich with his hotel; Hörwitz is painting; Kling is a professor of music; and so on with nearly all European players. Harrwitz is the only man I know of who seems to live for chess, and we can, therefore, easily understand why Morphy was so desirous of playing him.
To our hero's question, Harrwitz gave a reply so non-committal, that Morphy said, aside, to me, "He won't play a match." A crowd had collected around us, and the Prussian, thinking it an admirable opportunity for display, asked Morphy whether he had any objection to an off-hand game. Of course he had not. Harrwitz had the move, and played an Allgaier Gambit, which, after a hard fight, he won. Morphy was somewhat excited, made a mistake in the opening, by which he lost three pawns for nothing at all, and yet fought the battle with such determination, that the number of moves was not far short of a hundred. His antagonist was delighted with his victory, thought he was sure of Morphy, and engaged to settle the preliminaries of a match on the following day.
The next morning Harrwitz arrived at his usual hour – noon. He informed Morphy that his friends were desirous of backing him, but that the stakes were not made up yet. Morphy replied that that would be no objection, as he would accept any bets that might be offered during the match, and they could therefore begin at once. But another difficulty stood in the way. Morphy, in pursuance of a settled plan, had chosen his seconds from the enemy's camp, and had requested De Rivière and Journoud to act as his friends in this contest. Harrwitz chose to regard these gentlemen with feelings of enmity, and stated that, "if there were any seconds, there would be no match." Morphy was thus placed in a very equivocal position. Without being aware of any dispute existing between his future antagonist and the gentlemen in question, he had chosen them as his representatives: how could he now ask them to back out, because Mr. Harrwitz demanded it? However, on my representing the case to them, Messrs. De Rivière and Journoud resigned their office in the most kindly and willing manner, so desirous were they of seeing the match come off.
Shortly afterwards Monsieur Lequesne arrived. This gentleman, the pupil and worthy successor of Pradier, is now the first of living French sculptors, and the peer of Marochetti, Crawford, and Gibson. He is also a strong chess player, and the most active man in France for arranging matches, tournaments, &c. He immediately adjourned with Harrwitz, Morphy, and myself to a private room, to settle preliminaries, and, if I recollect rightly, Dr. Grosboulogne was of the party. Harrwitz expressed his dislike to any thing like ceremony, and objected to their being seconds or umpires in the affair; sorry were Morphy, Lequesne, and H.'s own backers, afterwards, that he carried the day on that point. The only arrangements made were, that Morphy was to accept all bets offered, that the winner of the first seven games should be esteemed the victor, and that the play should take place on four days in the week; and, finally, at Harrwitz's express stipulation, the match was to be played in the public café.
All this being agreed upon, the two champions came forth, and went at it. On drawing for the move, Harrwitz was again successful, and played, as he always does in matches, pawn to queen's fourth. This opening, and Philidor in defence, as second player, you could no more drive him away from, than you could induce Great Britain to give up Gibraltar. Pawn to queen's fourth served Harrwitz's turn once, and so did Philidor in defence, but only once, and I do not think it would then, if Morphy had been in good condition.
The night before the commencement of the match, Morphy had been sight-seeing until a very late hour; and we only got into bed between two and three o'clock in the morning. He laughed at me for reminding him of his approaching contest, and the necessity for mens sana in corpore sano, which I said would be seriously interfered with by his not taking sufficient rest. The next day his appearance verified my prognostics, and he failed to show that impassibility which ordinarily characterizes him. He says, however, that Harrwitz beat him because he (H.) played the best moves; and he would not admit to me that want of rest at all interfered with his own play.
Throughout the first game, Harrwitz displayed the most rollicking contempt for his antagonist, and, at the conclusion, when Morphy resigned, he rose from his seat, stretched across the table, and taking the latter by the hand, he felt his pulse and declared to the crowd – "Well, it is astonishing! His pulse does not beat any faster than if he had won the game." Everybody was disgusted at such a contemptuous proceeding, but Morphy took it all as quietly as though it were a part of the match.
Our hero passed that evening with some friends. Towards eleven o'clock I said to him, "Now, Morphy, you really must not have a second edition of last night; let us get home in good time;" but he replied, "Oh, don't be frightened, I've got the move to-morrow;" and, in spite of all I could say or do, we did not get to bed until nearly four o'clock. Well, what was the consequence? After getting a magnificent position in the second game of the match, bodily fatigue came upon him, and Harrwitz was again victor. The Prussian came out in greater glory than ever, rolling about in his seat, talking loudly to persons about the board, and smiling sardonically at his opponent, as much as to say, "Oh, it takes very little trouble to beat this fellow." Many leading players in the café, especially De Rivière and Journoud, were very savage at such conduct, but I told them – "Mark my words, Mr. Harrwitz will be quiet as a lamb before the end of next week."
The result of the play with Harrwitz had shaken the faith of the French players in Morphy. But as we left the café, he said laughingly to me, "How astonished all these men will be if Harrwitz does not get another game." And he did not. At dinner, I reasoned the matter with him, saying that the first requisite for any man engaged in a chess match, was rest for the brain; and that he ought, by this time, to be convinced of the absolute necessity of keeping early hours. And I wound up by exacting a promise from him that he would never be out of bed after midnight, during the match.
In the evening we went to the Opera Comique, and witnessed a very unsatisfactory performance of "La Part du Diable." Morphy has a great love for music, and his memory for any air he has once heard is astonishing. Mrs. Morphy is renowned in the salons of New Orleans as a brilliant pianist and musician, and her son, without ever having studied music, has a similar aptitude for it, and it is believed that he would have become as famous therein as in chess, had he given his attention to it. "La Part du Diable" was a new opera, and Morphy, after leaving the theatre, hummed over many of the airs to me, which he had just heard for the first time, with astonishing precision.
The next day we took a long drive among the "lions," and, in the evening, dined at the residence of that chess veteran and friend of Deschappelles and Labourdonnais, Monsieur Doazan. Harrwitz was of the company, and, for the nonce, acted Jupiter Triumphans in superb style. I felt indignant at such conduct towards a man so inoffensive and modest as Mr. Morphy, and I observed: "I am sorry, Mr. Harrwitz, you have not yet found Mr. Morphy in good fighting trim. The fact is, he has been preparing to meet you by not going to bed until common men are about to rise, but he has promised to retire early in future, and you will then find in him a very different antagonist." It was merely a hint, but the gentle Harrwitz did not like it. The following morning, Morphy said to me at breakfast, "If I beat Harrwitz to-day, you will say it is because I went to bed at eleven o'clock;" to which I replied, "Perhaps; but I do say that you lost the first two games because you went to bed at four."
The third and fourth games Morphy scored in beautiful style. The latter, Staunton declared, "would have excited the admiration of Labourdonnais," and the effect upon Harrwitz was interesting. During its progress, his conduct was quite gentlemanly, with the exception of a violent shaking consequent upon nervous excitement. There was cause for this. On the other side of the board sat Morphy, looking, in his peculiar way, like a block of impassible, living marble, the very embodiment of penetration and decision. No hesitancy or excitement there, but all cool, calm action, knowing where it must end; and, as he rose from his seat, everybody congratulated him on the score now standing two to two, and assured him they were confident what would be the result. We laughed heartily at these men who, but a few days previous, had looked woefully chopfallen, fearing that Harrwitz was too strong for Morphy.
The fifth game was played on the following Monday, and the Prussian lost it, although he had the move. Harrwitz felt uncomfortable, plainly feeling that his present antagonist was, as he expressed himself to a friend, "very much stronger than any he had ever met." We now had several days' intermission from play, the plea being "ill health;" and, finally, Morphy received a letter from his opponent, asking for a respite of a week or ten days, to which a reply was returned granting the request, on condition that, when the match was resumed, a game should be played daily, Sundays alone excepted. At the termination of ten days, Harrwitz lost the sixth game, so that the score now stood – Morphy, four; Harrwitz, two; drawn, none. And the latter, in spite of the agreement, was again absent from the battle-field for some days.
