My own recollections of chess go back about five and twenty years. In 1876 I saw Steinitz play one of the games of his match with Blackburne at the West End Chess Club--a match in which the late master gained a hollow victory. I was struck at the time by his leonine appearance and by his determined expression. I remember also being deeply absorbed in the game, in which, I think, Blackburne tried a gambit, making an attack on the king's side, while Steinitz pressed him on the queen's side. I recall the period of intense excitement while one wondered which attack would get home, and I have not forgotten the deadly force of the advance by which Steinitz eventually succeeded. To these two players, more than to any other individuals, is no doubt to be attributed the increasing popularity of chess. They were opponents in method and appearance. Blackburne, tall, calm and essentially English; Steinitz, short, tawny, full of suppressed excitement and deadly earnest. Blackburne played in a manner that developed the grace and beauty of chess as they had never been exploited except by Morphy; he gave exhibitions of simultaneous play and of blindfold chess that captivated all beholders, and tempted them to emulate, generally with disappointing results, his elaborate combinations. Steinitz was inculcating his scientific strategy, and each master had his followers. But even twenty-five years ago a chess-player was "a rare bird on earth."

The present extraordinary growth of the popularity of the game must surely have some significance. Many of the players are young men engaged in offices, shops and factories; that their numbers include several clergymen, doctors, lawyers and members of other professions is not so remarkable. What strikes me as important is that so many young clerks, and others of similar occupation, should find their chief recreation, at least in the winter months, in the game of chess. It is an aspect of the social problem that deserves consideration, suggesting, as it does, an increasing tendency towards the exercise of the mental faculties. Moreover, if it were not for the cozy and sociable atmosphere of their chess clubs and the charm of the game, many of these young men might be getting into mischief, or at least spending their time to less advantage. Nor can it be said that the influence of chess is harmful for it is invariably unaccompanied by gambling, it undoubtedly has a stimulating effect on the mind, and the social advantages of the clubs where men of all grades meet on an equality are not to be overlooked. Not less remarkable is the growing popularity of chess among women. The Ladies' Chess Club was only established four or five years ago, and it already takes rank among the most energetic and successful of the London clubs. It is not long ago that scientific chess was regarded as altogether beyond the capacity of women; but they have brilliantly proved the contrary; the members of the Ladies' Chess Club are rapidly increasing in numbers, the club successfully engages in matches with others supported by the opposite sex, and there is no reason to doubt either the suitability of the game for women, or their ability to hold their own at it with men. One would like to ascertain why so large a portion of the community that until recently knew nothing of chess has fallen under the spell of its fascination. Chess has sometimes been condemned on account of this very quality; it has been said that it is so enticing as to tempt men from their duties and to absorb their intelligence.

A moment's consideration will show the weakness of such an argument. The essential qualification of a game is its fascination; if it is not alluring it is nothing. To call a game fascinating, therefore, is to pay it the greatest possible compliment, but if it prove too engrossing the fault must lie with the player and not with the game. It is at least better that he should be attracted by chess than by cards or billiards. I do not wish to say anything against these games, but the truth remains that they do not offer the scope for enjoyment without the added temptation of gambling and drink that is afforded by chess. A game at chess is itself sufficient to stimulate its votaries without the additional excitement depending on a stake; but few can play cards or billiards for nothing. No doubt the cheapness of chess attracts many who require recreation, but cannot afford expensive amusements, and if this were the only recommendation of the game it would be something. It may be also that in this competitive age the need of mental recreation grows stronger, and chess and draughts are the only games that can be ranked as a purely mental exercise.

But I believe that in most of us there is some kind of artistic instinct, some aesthetic tendency, that finds no outlet in the humdrum of everyday life. If this is true it would sufficiently account for the increasing popularity of chess, for it is an art as well as a game. Its intricacies and combinations are capable of affording aesthetic delight that may be compared with the emotions produced by poetry, pictures or music--different, no doubt, but, to many, similarly sufficing. One need not be an expert to enjoy the pleasure of play; to the beginner it is like a voyage through an unknown country teeming with beautiful surprises. Every sitting reveals some new and captivating feature, suggests some tempting path, or affords some hint as to the best mode of pursuing the journey. Those from whose organization the artistic temperament is not entirely absent, and who do not play solely with the object of scoring up victories, may well be excused for turning to the game with zest and leaving it with regret. It is therefore, all to the good that young men whose opportunities of pursuing the arts are so limited should have such an easily-available means of artistic expression. If chess is an art, how can we blame Steinitz for being its slave? It is as though Shakespeare might be justifiably attacked on the ground of his absorption in play-writing, or Phidias for his subjection to the chisel. There would have been no progress in any art had there been no devotees, and Steinitz, I maintain, was an artist. Perhaps, from some points of view, he may even be regarded as a benefactor of the human race. In any case, chess was his profession, and a man cannot be blamed for giving as much attention as he pleases to his means of livelihood. But as a matter of fact, the game was far from having absorbed the whole of Steinitz's mind, for he often got out of practice through abstention, though he certainly regarded chess as of the first importance to his scheme of life.

To be continued.

About the Author

This article by Antony Guest is from the journal THE LIVING AGE (Seventh Series, Volume IX, October, November, December 1900), which is in the public domain.

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