Habits and Idiosyncrasies of Chess Players

NOTE. Speaking as a chess player, Bird is used, for matters common or general, the editorial us or we is adopted, but when expressing my own individual knowledge or opinion only, I is preferred.

The temperaments of chess players vary, some get easily disconcerted, disturbed and even distracted; others seem little affected by passing events, a few, apparently not at all: some even like a gallery and don't object to reasonable conversation; by conversations or little interruptions which would pass unheeded by a McDonnell or a Bird, or perhaps a Zukertortian would sadly disconcert a Buckle or a Morphy, make Staunton angry, and drive a Gossip to despair.

The attitude as well as the deportment and demeanour of chess players at the board shows many varieties: Anderssen and Captain Mackenzie were statuesque; Staunton, not quite so tall as the Rev. J. Owen, seeming to be soaring up aloft. Harrwitz not quite so small as Gunsberg, seemed sinking to the ground, but the story that he once disappeared overawed by Staunton's style and manner of moving, and was, after a search, found under the table, is a mere canard of Staunton's which need not be too confidently accepted. Harrwitz disliked being called a small German by Staunton because it savoured too strongly of the sausage element, saying if he makes sausage meat of me I will make mincemeat of him.

Staunton pretended sometimes not to see Harrwitz, and would look round the room and even under the chairs for him when he was sitting at his elbow, which greatly annoyed Harrwitz, who, however, sometimes got a turn, and was not slow to retaliate. In a game one day, Staunton materially damaged his own prospects by playing very tamely and feebly, and testily complained—"I have lost a move." Harrwitz told the waiter to stop his work, and search the room until he had found Staunton's lost move, and his manner of saying it caused a degree of merriment by no means pleasing to the English Champion.

Staunton was considered full-blooded, and his amiable French opponent, who used to play for 5 pounds a game no doubt thought he expressed himself favorably and forcibly when he said he is one very nice, charmant man, but he is a "—— fool."

Staunton's celebrated stories about Lowenthal and Williams, though very amusing to chess ears, I omit for obvious reasons, though extremely funny as Staunton originally told them, and as MacDonnell repeats them, they are probably not strictly founded on fact, and are lacking of the respect to which the memories of two such amiable and chivalrous chess players as Williams and Lowenthal are entitled.

The question of stakes or money terms upon which chess is played is a question of the first importance in the interests of chess, and a few notes of my experience upon the subject may not be inappropriate. After about three months looking on at chess play in 1844, at Raymond's Coffee House near the City Road Gate, where Dr. Michaelson of the Morning Post, and Mr. Finley, a farrier, were the respective giants, and a cup of coffee the usual stake, I learned the moves at chess, and receiving the odds of a Queen for a few games, I happened one day to hear with astonishment that the gentleman conceding me the odds was not as I supposed, the champion of the world, but that better players could be found at Goodes, Ludgate Hill, and Simpson's in the Strand. To the former I soon resorted and found Kling, Kuiper and Muckle, the principal professionals there; a nominal fee of sixpence being the charge per game, and Staunton, the champion had played many games at that rate. It was some weeks before I mustered resolution to visit Simpson's spacious and handsome hall, but, once arrived there, I made myself at home. Lowe, Williams and Finch were the attendant players there, and extensively they were supported. From each received the Queen soon improving to the odds of the Knight, and then playing even with them. Buckle alone, who did not mind hard work, essayed to give me Pawn and move, but for a short time only. One shilling a game has always been the recognized stake at Simpson's, and also at St. Georges the principal London Chess Club, but there have been exceptions, John Cochrane and Bird, the Rev. G. A. MacDonnell and Bird, and S. Boden and Bird never played for anything, and these ranked among the most popular of games, and the players were favourite opponents. In 1873, Wisker was holder of the British Chess Association Challenge Cup, but had never seen or played with Bird, who had been for six years out of chess. An accidental meeting by them, and the presence and intervention of Lowenthal and Boden, led to the Wisker and Bird four matches, the first for 5 pounds, and the other for credit of victory only. Anderssen and Bird always played 5/- a game, Zukertort and Bird 2/6, Steinitz and Bird's first sixteen games were without stakes, their match of 1866-7 for 25 pounds only. Before the year 1866, 10 pounds or 20 pounds a side was a convenient and common stake for a match. Staunton and Harrwitz, Staunton and Horwitz, Morphy and Anderssen, Steinitz and Blackburne, Steinitz and Zukertort, and Falkbeer and Bird were all within these figures. The Championship match in 1843, England and France, between Staunton and St. Amant was for 100 pounds a side, but the English player had to go to Paris, and the match was a long one, and it was hoped even at that time that future matches would be mainly for the honour of victory, and that the entire money in the case would be a reasonable sum to liberally cover the players' time and expenses. Morphy reluctantly played for 100 pounds a side in 1858, but his matches with Anderssen, Harrwitz and others were for merely nominal stakes. In 1866 a bad example was set in the case of Steinitz and Anderssen, when 100 pounds a side was played for, and although Steinitz and Blackburne, and Zukertort and Blackburne were matches for 60 pounds a side the stakes were only thus limited to the amount which could be conveniently obtained from backers at the time. So stakes progressed until Steinitz and Zukertort actually played for 400 pounds a side, a sum neither party could afford to lose, even though they could tax their chess supporters for it. Any chance of a return match which Zukertort so much desired, became impossible, hence the extraordinary depression of the great chess victor in two of the most important Internationals ever held, viz., Paris in 1878, and Criterion, London, 1883.

There is too much reason to fear that the result of this match, and Zukertort's sensitiveness to supposed coolness towards him afterwards mainly contributed to cause his premature break up and untimely end. I always advised him before the match, in justice to himself, to stipulate for a time limit of 20 or 25 moves an hour, and not to play for more than 100 pounds a side, the previous extreme maximum for the greatest matches, happy for him if he had observed this rule; as he himself admitted. Zukertort lived in the Walworth Road just past my single eleven years lodging —5 Heygate Street; and he voluntarily confided many matters to me during the last twelve months of his life, which was for certain reasons fortunate. His two beautiful daughters, the sole care of his life, are now provided for, one nine years of age, and the other thirteen years of age, are being educated at or near Berlin by Zukertort's mother and his married sister.

Returning to stakes, I have met here and there with an amateur who has had scruples and preferred not even playing for the shilling.

Buckle, Lord Lyttleton, and many eminent in chess, were strongly in favour of the customary small stake, and I have seen dignitaries of the Church, and spotless amateurs, pocket their shillings with as much gusto as the poor and much abused professional. It is a kind of voucher to mark the score.

Professor Ruskin and others who have referred to this question, saw no objection to the time-honoured stake, and it has been the rule at the greatest clubs, for, by fixing a custom, it was hoped to keep the stakes within prescribed limit. It must be admitted that the difference between one shilling and 25 pounds, 50 pounds or 100 pounds on a game is far too large.

Since the growth of the foreign demands for stakes, not thought of in the days of Philidor, La Bourdonnais, McDonnell, Staunton and Morphy, squaring between players, has been asserted, viz.— in 1878, 1885, and 1887, besides which it has always seemed to me that as the stakes go up the play goes down, and it certainly would be difficult to name a match in which so few interesting games took place as that between Steinitz and Zukertort for 400 pounds a side, played in the United States at New York, St. Louis and New Orleans in 1886.

A sedate and rather severe looking stranger challenged Bird to a game of chess once, just when Bird had finished a long sitting with a strong player, and was in rather a lively mood. "A stake, I suppose," said Bird. "No, I don't like stakes," said the stranger. "Then suppose we say a chop, or even a basin of soup, fried sole, or box of cigars." The stranger looked awful for a moment but dismayed by the good temper of his vis a vis, suddenly relaxed and conformed to the usual rule, and as the love tales conclude was happy ever afterwards.

It is best to understand that the stake on each game is a shilling, not to say simply we play for a shilling. Once, after an eight hours sitting, a countryman after losing twenty games blandly handed Mr. F. one shilling for the sitting, and could not be induced to part with more.

Stakes at chess must not be confounded with the favourite "Comestible." Missing Word calls it by that name. Meat is sometimes pronounced by some we know almost like mate. An Irishman addressing the cook instead of the mate once on board of a vessel, said, " Are you the mate?" and was met with the reply, "No, I am the man what cooks the mate." It was remarked after a game that many checks were given without any mate being obtained.

Another says, "The Queen in chess does all the work, yet the King gets all the checks."

Mr. C. B., the well-known enthusiast, but not always successful chess player dining with a friend at Simpson's one day, the latter recurred to the changes which had taken place there and expressed regret that the Grand chess Divan had been transformed into a dining room. "Faix," said Mr. C. B. as he took up a toothpick," It's the first time in my life that I ever felt disposed to say grace after mate in this room."

Some players are very slow, hence one was called the "Telegraph" and others by appropriate names of which I recollect best "West Australian" and the "Flying Dutchman." About forty years ago there were eight young and rising players nearly approaching first class, they were S. S. Boden, the Rev. W. Audrey, Captain Cunningham, G. W. Medley, J. Medley, C. T. Smith, A. Simons and H. E. Bird. Three of these, remarkable for ingenuity and sudden surprises had familiar appellations. One was termed "The Snake," another that "Old Serpent," I was "The enemy of the human race." A well known looker on who used to lean over the board and talk a great deal was called "The Coroner" because it was said he not only held an inquest on the board, but also sat upon the body.

Paulsen once after an hour's reflection moved his King one square only, a lady observed "that it seemed a great time for such a little move."

Three consultation games were played at one of the County meetings which lasted together 48 hours, two were drawn and one adjourned.

Some games in matches between Staunton and Williams, and Paulsen and Kolisch about forty years ago were unduly protracted. Against Medley the last named (Kolisch) took two hours for three moves and this had much to do with the initiation of the time limit with the encumbrances of sand glasses and clocks which the majority of players still approve of.

At Purssell's, people used to eat chops, smoke cigars or pipes, play chess, and talk cricket all at the same time, which seems to contradict the assumption that it is impossible to do two things at once. Some say they cannot play chess before dinner, others not after dinner. Too much dinner is considered a fair excuse for losing at chess, but no dinner at all is not a valid plea.

According to the Rev. A. B. Skipworth, who should be an authority on the subject, professional chess players are not supposed to dine at all, but our great friend, the genial Mars, dissents from this view. Staunton, Boden, Steinitz, Mars and Skipworth himself are essentially diners, and Bird has been accused of a tendency that way.

The professionals so called are very few, compared with former years, yet they find the beef for many a Chess Editor, who barely supplies the salt.

It is not a desirable thing in England like it was in India, Arabia and Sweden to have the reputation of being great in chess, nor is it supposed now, as it was in the Arabian manuscript, the Treasure of the Sciences, and Olaus Magnus' work to imply any particular proof of wisdom and discretion or evidence of fitness for other things and one is not likely to secure a patron, or a post, much less a wife by it. An example of how professional chess players are regarded and can be treated now-a-days is afforded by the gradual extinction of the class, and absence of the only two young masters from their native country. The British Chess Magazine managers are not ignorant of the significance of the course which they have and are still taking against chess masters. The Rev. W. Wayte and the Rev. J. Owen, both of whom have known for forty years, were captains of the respective teams in a proposed monster match North v. South which took place at the Great Western Hotel, Birmingham, on the 28th of January last, the inception of which shows how enthusiasm and ability can be treated by those who assume the management and control of these contests. At the very outset before any disposition or inclination of any kind in the matter was evinced by the masters the self-appointed inceptors took upon themselves the very superfluous and invidious task of barring all professionals, and the Chairman who seems to have joined it recently, is the same chess patron who would not support my proposal for the Jubilee Tournament of 1887 (successfully carried out with the aid of the Times) on the ground "that it was not within the province of any player, however eminent and enthusiastic to usurp the functions of the executive appointed for the purpose (whether paid executive chose to take action or not). May we ask are the parties who agitated this monster tournament, those who were specially appointed for any such purpose. Who first thought of the happy idea of covering amateurs' expenses, and of excluding just those players likely to furnish the best and most instructive and amusing games, such in fact as the public most like to see.

Does this abundance of contests answer one good end, does it even divert attention from the fact that it is absorbing the funds, if not strictly taking the place of the 1892 International Chess Tournament which we are under engagement to our own public and still more to foreign chess players to provide in return for Breslau, Amsterdam and Dresden hospitality and meetings.

To return to dinners, next to them, headaches, stomach aches, and indigestion often explain the loss of a game, whilst an acute attack of gout is considered rather advantageous than otherwise.

I know players who have looked on at chess for years that have never been seen to engage in a game. Occasionally the occupiers of the earliest seats carry cigar cases, but more frequently they do not. Some talk over the game obtrusively which is not always convenient.

Such a one noticing that no money ever passed when Boden and Bird played, patronizingly said to the former, "Mr. Boden, I am so glad to find you do not care for 'filthy lucre.'" B. replied, "It is not to the `filthy lucre' I object, but to the `filthy looker on.'"

It is bad form for spectators to remove the pieces from the board without the consent of the players, even if it be done for the purpose of demonstrating more forcibly what move should be made.

One who never remained a spectator more than five minutes, observed, all he desired was to get a birds-eye view of Bird's position.

Boden and Bird were favourite opponents for 25 years and though very opposite in styles were, in the long run, singularly even in their scores. It was the practice of both to resign at the proper moment. Bird, once it was thought, gave up too early. "Oh, it is hopeless," said he. "I have my misgivings, I cannot contend against such forebodings, one Boden is too much, for me."

One player, who rarely scored a game, was likened to a very great musical composer—"Beethoven"—(Beat often)!!

The excuse made for our old friend L., the hatter, that he was not playing in his best tile hardly applied. Buckle, with his proverbially `bad hat', usually under the table, yet invariably played superbly.

A man of leather found his efforts to excel, bootless. The retired fishmonger Umpleby played but a (f) visionary game. The tailor complained that he played more like a goose than a bird.

Jokes have been sometimes made about the pieces used in chess. Even the calm and serene Mr. Lambe could not refrain from being facetious in reference to the conversion of a Pawn or private soldier into a Queen. Another remarked that the Queen works very hard for a lazy King who alone gets all the checks. Umpleby, the retired fishmonger in the chess story declared that he would have been the best player in the world, but for the Knights at chess which jumped about in the most unreasonable and absurd manner without rhyme or reason, here there and everywhere, and the lady who it was said was found engaged and playing with thirty-two men remained single ever afterwards. A rather boasting player once said, "I must win, I have a piece —a (of) head." One answered, "You would be more likely to win, if instead of a piece of a head, you had a whole head."

The Rooks occupy the corner squares, and may be played along either of the files of squares they command.

Mr. Serjeant Drytong whose legal acumen was acknowledged by all parties, was also distinguished for a pretty wit and great skill in our Royal Game.

On one occasion he appeared for the Defendant in an action brought by four persons to recover a sum of money lost by his client in a betting transaction. In the course of his speech the judge (C. J. Wontone) interrupting him asked, Do I understand you to say that the Plaintiffs were standing two and two at each end of the street in order to intercept the Defendant when he came out. Not exactly two and two, my lord, said the counsel, but as on a chess board. There was a Rook at every corner, only these, as I shall show, did not act upon the square.

Miss Rooster, on one occasion when her dearest friend, Miss Pullet called, was found so absorbed in studying a problem by the great Schwerlagerbier, that her visitor could not obtain even a sign of recognition. After various unsuccessful efforts to attract the attention of the fair enthusiast, Miss Pullet departed, and meeting an acquaintance immediately afterwards jocosely remarked that she had left Miss Rooster engaged with thirty-two men, whereby she acquired the reputation of being a dangerous coquette. To this thoughtless jest Miss Rooster ascribed the circumstance, that during the remainder of her life she walked in meditation fancy free.

We have already seen that the Chess Masters whom the Fortnightly Review have in a sense made immortal are Lowenthal, Rosenthal, Horwitz, Zukertort, Winawer and Hoffer, the writers seem to have forgotten his Lordship and Purssell's great philosopher who have furnished more fun than all the above put together, and where is the typical "P.F.G." (pale faced German), "California" and the "fidgetty W." and Hoffer's "Estimate of the value of English Players" (1887). Surely half the wit of these Fortnightly Review contributors could have made an article of these alone without the addition of more serious persons such as Steinitz, Blackburne and Bird.

"A foreign estimate of the value of English Chess Players from Covent Garden" was the title of a little skit which caused some amusement five or six years ago. It commenced with Blackburne 5 pounds for a blindfold performance, Gunsberg 2 pounds: 2 : 0 : 0 for a simultaneous performance, and ranges downwards till it comes to two pence for the price of Pollock's proverbial pint of porter. Bird could always be bought for a glass of whiskey hot and a pleasing nod, and Mason could be got rid of on an emergency for half-a-crown. Even poor Zukertort at the B. C. towards the last stood very low. One evening, after the ordinary dinner at this famous chess club, the whole of the Amateur Company, with no exception, adjourned to cards and billiards, Zukertort, Blackburne, Gunsberg and Bird remained alone in the chess room, the last named proposed a match between themselves, the others less enthusiastic did not fall in and after a desultory conversation of half-an-hour or so the little band dispersed.

The article about "Fleas and Nits" which well nigh led to the extinction of the Chess Monthly emanated from Covent Garden and was aimed at Mr. Steinitz.

Steinitz has perhaps been the subject of more jokes than any other chess player. From the day when he first assumed the responsibilities of chess editorship, and as some are wont to say "kept watch over The Field Office lest it should disappear before the morning," to the time when he unfortunately left us for America he was nearly always a fertile theme of amusement with the joke-loving members of the chess fraternity. We fancy we see him now with pen behind the ear pacing up and down the Divan rooms with horried start and whisper dread, saying, "O have you seen my article! How many K's in occur? and is there more than one H in editor?" He has improved since then and is a match for Hoffer. The clocks (implements of torture I call them) used for regulating the time consumed in chess matches have led to several facetious stories at Steinitz's expense, some, however, not too good natured. Still it was curious to see his gymnastics, mental and physical, between observance of the chess board and the time pieces on occasions when time run short and indeed sometimes when it did not.

A game between Steinitz and Rosenthal in the London Criterion Tournament of 1883 furnished an example which will doubtless be familiarly remembered by those present. With eight moves to make in about as many minutes in his excitement he had apparently unwillingly climbed the back of a chair and not till he had completed the requisite number within the hour and began to breathe freely did he seem conscious of where he was. Though anxious for a moment or so he succeeded in getting down very cleverly without mishap, not however escaping some signs of trepidation.

A St. Louis writer in 1886, after one of his games with Zukertort, described in true American fashion Steinitz's tall chair and short legs and his frantic efforts to regain terra firma, as the writer described it, to reach the American hemisphere. Steinitz's high appreciation of proficiency in the game and what is due to one who attains it was once illustrated before a great man at Vienna, who rebuked him for humming whilst playing at chess, saying, "Don't you know that I am the great Banker?" The reply was characteristic of Steinitz. "And don't you know that I am the Rothschild of chess?"

A beautiful chess position with Steinitz beats any work of art as Al Solis chess, in the opinion of the Caliph, one thousand years ago far excelled the flowers in his most beautiful garden and everything that was in it. More than this, Prime Ministers and Lord Chancellors, Liberal and Conservative, come and go but there is but one first Lord in chess, says Steinitz.

Steinitz was so much gratified with the reminder of mine at Simpson's, that three of the greatest minds ever known have had the same initials that he will pardon the little additional joke from Paternoster Row. The three mighty W.S.'s are Wilhelm Steinitz, William Shakespeare and Walter Scott. He was not so well pleased with the addition of the unnecessary missing words William Sykes.

Steinitz was introduced at a club once as the Champion. "Of what?" was the reply.

Steinitz has been known to grieve much when he has lost at chess; at Dundee, for example, in 1866 after his defeat by De Vere his friends became alarmed at his woe and disappearance. Again, after his fall to Rosenthal in a game he should have won at the Criterion in 1883, news were brought that he was on a seat in St. James' Park quite uncontrollable.

Steinitz is liberally disposed to others in mind and purse. The following brevities on chess are known to have been much admired by him, I therefore append them for his artistic eye.

So old and enthusiastic a chess player as Bird, and one who has travelled about so much professionally, and on chess, has naturally been the object of many pleasantries, and bon mots, although he escaped the Fortnightly Review writers, being regarded, at least by one of them as a very serious person, L'Anglais comme il faut of the Vienna Neue Frie Presse. The despised Britisher of custom house officers (who always chalk him away, hardly deigning to examine his luggage even). He has figured as the sea captain of the New York Sun, the farmer of the Rochester Press, the ladies chess professor of the Albany Argus, and the veteran of the Montreal Press, his vicissitudes have led him into strange places, among others to a wigwam of the Indians at Sarnia in 1860, and a representation of one in the Vienna Exhibition of 1873, when much to the amusement of Professor Anderssen and Baron Kolisch he received such a cordial reception from a lady who recognized him as an old friend and customer at Niagara falls, the lady in question being commonly termed a squaw (not a disrespectful word for a lady it is hoped). Bird has been in the Nest at Amsterdam, in the Bowery at New York, and in the accident ward at Vienna, and has witnessed many strange things and distressing circumstances, and has endured interviewers and Irish Home Rulers in America without a shudder, and has perhaps been asked more questions about chess than any man living, because he good naturedly always answers them, and has furnished matter enough in ten minutes for a two-column article. He has been accused of a partiality for whisky hot, especially when served by female hands, of ordering soles by special train at Nuremberg, though he only disposed or them at breakfast not knowing their price or from whence they came. Blackburne and Hoffer are responsible for the statement that he sat up through the night at Vienna preparing statistics, with nothing but his hat on. The allegation in the Field and elsewhere that he instructed the French President to fetch a cab for him on a busy fete day at the Champs de Elysees, in 1878, is not just, that genial and courteous gentleman having volunteered to do so under exceptional circumstances, and as all act of sympathy, and perhaps on account of Bird's play, who though suffering acutely from gout on that particular day won one of his two best games of Anderssen. If Bird had a carriage and pair to the barbers to get a shave (quite recently asserted) it was because he could not find a conveyance with one horse in time to reach his destination. When he made a late dinner solely off Pate de Foie Grass at the Marquis d'Andigny's banquet at St. Germains, Paris, in 1878, when there were any number of courses, he did so because be liked the flavour (certainly did not find it savourless) not comprehending the waiter's surprise or aware of its bilious tendency till afterwards. Even a king once dined off goose livers or something of the sort, and we have heard somewhere of a "feast of snails."

Even assuming glasses of Lager, 20 Schnaps, and 30 plates of bread and cheese were consumed at the village with the unpronounceable name 70 miles this side of Nuremberg, one intensely hot afternoon in July, 1883, on the eve of the International Tournament in that city when the train unpolitely went on, leaving him behind, Bird was not the only consumer nor responsible for the food famine, which the Field and the Illustrated Sporting and Dramatic say prevailed afterwards for the whole of the inhabitants of the place (fifty souls) including the old lady ill in bed, and her attendant who deserted her for the afternoon partook thereof.

Neither Steinitz nor Bird are funny men; the latter most reserved among his superiors, yet looks good humored. At the Anglo-American Hotel, Hamilton, in 1860, he was honored by a recognition each morning for a week from the Prince of Wales. At the second Universities chess match, Perrott's, Milk Street, 1874, a young gentleman introduced himself to Bird, and a pleasant chat was commenced, interrupted only by unreasonable intrusion. This gentleman to Bird's surprise who thus honoured him by interest in chess was H.R.H. Prince Leopold.

Professor Ruskin, Lord Randolph Churchill and many eminent men have supported Bird's chess efforts with much approval; in the far past J. P. Benjamin Esq., Q.C., and Sir Charles Russell enjoyed an occasional game. Chief Justice Cockburn, and Sir George Jessel seem to have liked chess. The list of highly distinguished men reported to admire the game is varied and significant.

Many working men have sought wrinkles from Bird; the late Mr. Bradlaugh at intervals extending over thirty years has ardently played occasionally chess or draught skirmishes with much zest. He was singularly agreeable and good tempered and a moderate player at both. Bird knew much of Ireland and the people twenty to thirty years ago. Isaac Butt was fond of chess but played it but indifferently. Chief Baron Pigott who also knew it presided in the long trial Bartlett v. Lewis, Overend, Gurney, etc., and seemed much surprised at a chess allusion. Said Butt to me, "Come, you are not playing chess with me." Whiteside and Sullivan two of the six Counsel on the other side, almost simultaneously replied, "A good thing for you brother Butt, for you would surely soon be checkmated."

The master hand who sketched Mason for the Fortnightly Review scarcely did full justice to his vocal ability, dancing proclivities and Christian friends, and Blackburne's marvellous oracles and dictums pass unnoticed. Tinsley Lee, Van Vliet, Muller and Jasnagrodzky all have their peculiarities which shall remain untouched, for they are young and sensitive, whilst the most amusing since the loss of Purssell's Lordship (next to the Philosopher who happily very much survives) is the extremely popular Monsieur.

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.