by David Lawson
Morphy, having now finally received a public commitment from Staunton—“I will play you at the beginning of November”—and with nothing further to keep him in London, felt free to visit Paris, although with some misgivings.
CHAPTER 10
Harrwitz and “Letters of Gold”
On the morning of August 31, Edge awakened Morphy early as they expected to take the first Folkstone train, destination Paris, but due to Morphy’s dilatoriness they arrived too late. They therefore took the 1:30 p.m. train for Dover and there boarded the channel steamer for Calais.
Although taken with a bad case of sea-sickness, Morphy was thinking of what lay ahead and said to Edge, “Well, now I am going to meet Harrwitz! I shall beat him in the same proportion as I beat Lowenthal, although he is a better match-player than Lowenthal. But I shall play better with Harrwitz.”
Upon arrival at Calais they had a lengthy and expensive visit at the custom house, where Morphy was relieved of a quantity of underlinen and told it was customary. When they learned that the Paris train would not leave until 8 p.m. and would not reach the city until 6 a.m., Morphy proposed they stay overnight and take the morning train. They then registered at the Hotel Dessin and strolled about after dinner.
At 7:45 a.m. the next day they entrained for Paris and arrived after what Edge described as “the long, dreary ride of ten mortal hours.” Edge said he wanted to dine, but “Morphy is never betrayed into rhapsody, and what he felt he didn’t speak.”
After putting up at Meurice’s Hotel, they dined at the Restaurant des Trois Frères Provencaux. Then, without a word, Edge led Morphy to the Café de la Régence, of chess history, named after the Regent Duke of Orleans, where Voltaire, Jean Jacques Rousseau, Benjamin Franklin, Robespierre, and Napoleon had moved about the chessmen.
Without making themselves known that evening, they watched some play and heard that Harrwitz was expected back on Saturday to meet Mr. Morphy. The Cercle des Échecs had its room over the café, but the general public used the café rooms, where tables and chessmen were always available.
The next day, Thursday, Morphy announced himself and met Lécrivain, Journoud, and others. He then played Lécrivain, giving the odds of Pawn and two moves, winning seven out of nine games played. At the conclusion of this match, Rivière arrived, and his one game with Morphy ended in a draw. Later, Journoud played several games with Morphy, all of 125 which the latter won. Thus ended Paul Morphy’s first day at La Régence, everyone looking forward to the arrival of Harrwitz.
On Saturday, Harrwitz appeared at La Régence. David Harrwitz was a chess professional installed at the café, who devoted his life to chess playing. In his match with Lowenthal five years before, with the score standing nine to two against him, he went on to win the match eleven to ten. Staunton had arranged the match hoping and expecting Lowenthal would win. He never forgave Lowenthal’s “betrayal” and thereafter was always spite-ful toward him. Harrwitz had also won matches against Horwitz, Mayet, and Rivière, and came even with Anderssen in their match, all this before meeting Morphy. He could be found at La Régence almost daily from 1853 until about two years after he met Morphy. It would seem that Steinitz had little reason to consider him “rusty with inaction.”
On September 4, the thirty-five-year-old Harrwitz and the twenty-one-year-old Morphy met. They shook hands, and Morphy, making for him an unusual advance, asked Harrwitz if he would be willing to play a match. Harrwitz replied so evasively that Morphy, probably wary since his difficulties with Staunton, said in an aside to Edge, “He won’t play a match.” Harrwitz’s conduct was such that it quite possibly affected the results of Morphy’s first games with him. However, when a crowd had gathered around them, Harrwitz said he would be willing to play an offhand game.
They sat down together, and Harrwitz asked Morphy to accept the King’s Gambit. Harrwitz won this first game and, immensely pleased with himself, agreed to play a match. In view of Harrwitz’s initial reaction to Morphy’s request, one wonders whether Harrwitz would have so readily agreed to a match had the first game gone against him.
The two met the next day to arrange the match. Harrwitz’s attitude about seconds was most peculiar; in fact, he said “if there were any seconds, there would be no match.” Morphy had already asked Rivière and Journoud to act as his seconds, but when Harrwitz voiced his objection they withdrew, eager to see the match come off. Harrwitz then said that although his friends wished to back him, his stakes were not as yet made up. According to Edge, Morphy replied that this did not matter, “as he would accept any bets that might be offered during the match and they could therefore begin at once.”
Eugene Lequesne, the French sculptor and a strong chess player active in tournaments, arrived, and he, Morphy, Harrwitz, and Edge met in a private room to settle the preliminaries for the match. Harrwitz objected to any seconds or umpires. It was agreed that the winner of the first seven games be the victor, that play should take place on four days of the week, and that Morphy was to accept all bets offered. Harrwitz also specified that play was to take place at La Régence public café. Once everything was settled, they immediately started the match. As it turned out, they were playing for a stake of 295 francs a side.
So on September 5, Morphy’s match with Harrwitz began. Harrwitz won the first game, and, as Edge reported, in a manner bordering on insolence, to the disgust of all those about, Harrwitz took Morphy’s hand and, feeling his pulse, called out to the crowd: “Well it is astonishing! His pulse does not beat any faster than if he had won the game.” Harrwitz was now becoming very sure of himself. The second game went the same way as the first, with Harrwitz rollicking in his seat. Now he was sure he was master of the situation, and acted, as Edge put it, “as much as to say, ‘Oh, it takes very little trouble to beat this fellow.’ Many leading players in the café, especially 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 the next week.’”
Edge (not privy to Morphy’s thoughts) was certain the late hours Morphy was keeping, seeing the sights of Paris, were responsible for the lost games. Concerning the second game of the match, Steinitz remarked, as mentioned in Sergeant’s Morphy’s Games of Chess, that “no satisfactory explanation is given” of how Morphy lost it. It is an explanation only Morphy could have given; all one can say is that he showed no concern over losing, nor did he outwardly express disdain at Harrwitz’s disgraceful antics. But, as Rivière said to Morphy while walking him and Edge back to the Hotel Breteuil, to which they had moved after the first few days, others at La Régence were uneasy, having placed bets on Morphy to win. Edge reports that Morphy only laughed and said, “How astonished all these men are going to be. Harrwitz will not win another game.” Such was his plan and self-assurance.
The next day Morphy and Edge dined at the residence of G. E. Doazan, a friend of Deschapelles and Labourdonnais. Harrwitz was also of the company and acted in his most domineering manner, which caused Edge to say, “I am sorry, Mr. Harrwitz, you have not 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 him a very different antagonist.”
Morphy won the next two games. Of the fourth game of the match Staunton said in the Illustrated London News of September 25, 1858, “Morphy carries all before him by the spirit and impetuosity of his attack, and finishes the battle in a style which would have commanded admiration from Labourdonnais.” At this point, Harrwitz abandoned his overbearing manner. Morphy won the fifth game on September 13, and Harrwitz now became visibly unnerved, saying to a friend that his opponent was “very much stronger than any he had ever met.”
In a letter to Morphy, Harrwitz now pleaded “ill health” and asked for a respite of about ten days. Morphy agreed, with the condition that thereafter they play daily, Sundays excepted, for the remainder of the match. Sta
unton discussed the matter in his chess column, and it might be noted that in several respects his remarks were equally pertinent to the situation between himself and Morphy:
October 2, 1858—Match between Messrs. Morphy and Harrwitz. This conflict having now entered what may be called the “sick phase,” an indispensable condition, apparently, in all modern chess matches whenever one of the combatants gets two or three games ahead, how long before the public will have to wait before hostilities recommence it is hard to say. Mr. Harrwitz, the indisposed, who, it is consolatory to know, is not so prostrate but that he is enabled to enjoy his daily chess in the Café de la Régence with opponents less troublesome than Mr. Morphy, had demanded a truce of eight or ten days. This his antagonist has at once agreed to, conditionally that, at the expiration of that time, a game shall be played daily until the victory is determined. The American’s stipulation is so reasonable, considering he is only a sojourner in Paris, and he has shown such readiness in all cases to conform to the wishes of his adversary, that it is incumbent upon the members of the French Chess Cercle, not to allow of any further delay.
As Staunton pointed out, Harrwitz, after losing three games straight and being granted his ten days “sick leave,” still continued his daily chess with others at La Régence. Often he played until midnight, usually at a franc a game.
The match was resumed on September 23, and again Harrwitz lost. The score now stood Morphy four, Harrwitz two, and, again, in spite of his agreement to play daily, Harrwitz adjourned the match for several days.
In response to general request, while waiting for Harrwitz to resume play, Morphy announced that on the coming Monday, September 27, he would play eight blindfold games simultaneously. The news created great excitement, for nothing like it had ever been attempted on the Continent. Earlier, Harrwitz had proposed to Morphy that together they do something of the sort, for which a five-franc admission could be charged, but Morphy would have none of it. And now, in offering the blindfold exhibition, Morphy specified that there must be free admission to one and all.
Such was the interest in France that telegrams went out to the poet Méry, the Duke of Brunswick, and others, bringing them back to Paris from their watering-places on the Rhine. But Morphy was not well. Although he had quickly recovered from his channel crossing, he was suffering from more than a physical indisposition. The slighting remarks and innuendoes that had been directed at him, in both England and France, had found a lodging place in him. Edge said that
since the outset of the match with Harrwitz he [Morphy] 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. . . . At breakfast, on the morning fixed for this blindfold exhibition [to start at noon], 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.”
Edge blamed Paris water for Morphy’s condition, and it may have had something to do with his illness, but it is likely that more than that was the cause of it. For the first several weeks, after his Atlantic crossing illness had worn off, England had agreed with him famously. (Perhaps English roast beef and puddings were responsible.) George Walker remarked in Bell’s Life in London of August 21, 1858, that “Mr. Morphy is in excellent health and spirits, certainly stouter in form than when he landed on our shores,” and Edge reported to Maurian that as of August 13 Morphy’s health was “capitally good.”
Soon thereafter, however, he was the subject of unpleasant statements; references to “bottleholder,” “bunkum,” “unfurnished with funds,” etc., had their effect on his sensitive nature. He had actually led a sheltered life before leaving New Orleans and undoubtedly left England somewhat dis-illusioned and hurt. Nor did Harrwitz’s outrageous conduct help to alleviate this feeling. An undemonstrative person, Morphy kept his emotions to himself, and bitterness no doubt festered within him. Edge evidently knew nothing of what was working inside Morphy.
However, the exhibition at La Régence was not delayed. Edge had arranged tables and a roped-off area for Morphy, and at 12:30 p.m., on September 27, Morphy called out Pawn to King’s fourth on all boards. Play went on for ten hours, and Morphy remained practically immobile all that time, taking nothing, not even a drink of water. Dr. Johnston, Paris correspondent of the New York Times, gave the following account of the exhibition in that paper on October 19, 1858:
The astounding performances of young Paul Morphy have brought the excitement in the chess-playing world of this city up to white heat. On Monday last he played against, and beat, blindfolded, eight of the best players of Paris at one time! The Café de la Régence, at which this extraordinary feat occurred, has two large rooms on the ground floor. In the first room, which is full of marble tables, were seated the eight adversaries of Mr. Morphy. In the second room, in which are two billiard tables, was seated the single player. A large portion of this room, including the billiard tables, was shut off from the crowd by a cord, and behind the tables, in a large arm-chair, sat Mr. Morphy, with his back nearly directly to the crowd. Two gentlemen, reporting for the press, kept the games, and two other gentlemen, Messrs. Journoud and Arnous de Rivi[è]re, cried out the moves, or rather carried them from one room to the other. The adversaries of Mr. Morphy were Messrs. Baucher, Bierwith, Borneman, Guibert, Lequesne, (the distinguished sculptor), Potier, Prèti, and Seguin.
They were all either old or middle-aged men, and superior players, while Mr. Morphy is but twenty-one years of age. The boards of the eight players were numbered 1, 2, 3, etc., in the order in which I have given the names of the gentlemen. At 12 1/2 o’clock the games commenced, Mr. Morphy playing the first, and calling out the same move for all the eight boards, K.P.2. The games were conducted in French, Mr. Morphy speaking French perfectly. At 7 o’clock No. 7 was beaten with an unlooked-for check-mate. Soon after 8 o’clock, No. 6 abandoned the game as hopeless, and half an hour later, Mr. Lequesne, No. 5 played for and gained a draw game. Nos. 1, 2, and 3 were soon after beaten. At 10 o’clock, No. 4 made the blind player accept a draw game, but it was 10 1/2 o’clock before M. Seguin, No. 8, a very old gentleman, who contended with great desperation, was beaten. Thus he beat six, while two, who acted on the defensive and only sought a drawn game, effected their purpose, but a drawn game, under such circumstances, ought to be considered equivalent to a beat.
During the entire game, which lasted just ten hours, Mr. Morphy sat with his knees and eyes against the bare wall, never once rising or looking toward the audience, nor even taking a particle of drink or other refreshment. His only movements were those of crossing his legs from side to side, and, occasionally, thumping a tune with his fingers on the arms of the fau-teuil. He cried out his moves without turning his head. Against 1, 2, 3, and 6 and 7, who were not up to the standard of the other three players, he frequently made his moves simultaneously after receiving theirs. He was calm throughout, and never made a mistake, nor did he call a move twice.
It must be recollected, moreover, that Mr. Morphy played “against the field”—in other words, that around each of the eight boards there was a large collection of excellent chess players, who gave their advice freely, and who had eight times longer to study their play in than the single player. He played certainly against fifty men, and they never ceased for a moment making supposed moves and studying their game most thoroughly during the long intervals that necessarily fell to each board. And yet Morphy, who was out of sight of these eight boards, saw the game plainer on each than those who surrounded them! I could scarcely have thought the thing possible if I had not seen it. At the end of the games there was a shout from the three hundred throats present, which made one believe he was back again in old Tammany Hall! The fact is there were a considerable number of Englishmen and Americans present (among the latter was Prof. Morse, who took a deep interest
in these extraordinary games), but much the larger number were French. Morphy did not seem at all fatigued, and appeared so modest that the frenzy and admiration of the French knew no bounds.
He was shaken by the hand and complimented till he hung down his head in confusion. One gray-haired old man, an oc-togenarian chess-player, stroked his hair with his hands, as he would a child of his own, and showered him with terms of endearment. Morphy has no beard yet, and looks more like a schoolboy than a world’s champion. He escaped from the excited crowd as soon as possible, and left with some friends, to get something to eat. It is not necessary to point out to chessplayers the immensity of the intellectual feat; every one will admit that it borders upon the miraculous, and, as was remarked by one of his antagonists, M. Lequesne, such a mind never did exist, and, perhaps, never will again.
Finally Morphy was able to extricate himself from the crowd, with Thomas Bryan on one side, Rivière on the other, and Edge trailing along behind. Morphy was able to escape only because huge “Père” Morel sprear-headed them to the street in football formation. Then the four of them— Morphy, Bryan, Rivière, and Edge—made for the Palais Royal and upstairs to a private room of the Restaurant Foy. They escaped hours later by a back door to avoid the crowd that had assembled outside. Edge says that
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 to follow the thread of his combinations.
George Walker, writing in Bell’s Life in London on October 3, 1858, said, “The first [game], won of M. Baucher, is a gem of excellence, worthy of being written in letters of gold on the walls of the London Chess Club.”
