ANovember 21 1871
Birmingham Daily Post, Birmingham, West Midlands, England, Tuesday, November 21, 1871
BLINDFOLD CHESS.
To the Editor of the Daily Post.
Sir,—In your notice of the Blindfold Chess, played by Mr. Blackburne, at the Great Western Hotel, on Thursday last, contained in your paper of yesterday, you mention that in his game with No. 10, “Mr. Blackburne, after losing a piece, announces mate in six moves, and in six moves the mate was accomplished.”
Without in any way attempting to detract from the glory of Mr. Blackburne's wonderful achievement, but in justice to myself, will you allow me to add that the move at No. 10, just previous to this announcement, was a clear and palpable slip, and but for this slip, Mr. Blackburne-as he himself said—could not have done more than draw the game. In conclusion, I must testify, as one of the players, to the grand skill and marvelous memory of Mr. Blackburne, and to his uniformly courteous and gentlemanly manner to his opponents.
I am, sir, yours faithfully,
Tuesday, November 21, 1871. No. 10.
November 22 1871
Western Daily Press, Bristol, Avon, England, Wednesday, November 22, 1871
Chess Tournament.—This day the Celebrated Player, Mr. Blackburen, will play Consulation and Tournament Games, at the Athenæum Chess Club, commencing at 6.30. Admission, 1s.
November 25 1871
The Newcastle Weekly Chronicle, Newcastle upon Tyne, Tyne and Wear, England, Saturday, November 25, 1871
Blindfold Chess.—In Birmingham, last week, a man who may almost be set down among the wonders of creation, showed his extraordinary gift of chess-playing at a public seance, and it was looked upon as so great a success that some two or three score of spectators—perhaps all chess-players themselves—were attracted to the exhibition. This gentleman was Mr. Blackburne, a chessplayer who is not only a perfect master of the deepest mysteries of the art, but who possesses the marvelous faculty of being able to conduct ten games at once against strong opponents, at a sitting extending over as many hours as there are games, without seeing either of the boards.
Let the reader consider what an amazing strength of memory and power of combination must be here displayed. On each of the ten boards there are thirty-two pieces, ranging over sixty-four squares, with positions constantly changing, and the relations between them continually becoming more intricate, complex, and puzzling. Mr. Blackburne must, therefore have carried in his mind, during the whole of the ten hours, the movement of three hundred and twenty pieces, on six hundred and forty squares, and must have kept his attention unrelaxed all that time on the ten different set of movements which were going on.
If the games lasted on an average to thirty moves on each side, he would have had to remember six hundred moves and never to have lost mental sight of a single move all the while. Anyone one who can realise what this signifies must be satisfied that scarcely any similar example can be found, out of the field of chess-playing, of tenacious memory, and faculty of following and directing a long succession of complicated movements.
The most astonishing feature of Mr. Blackburne's blindfold play is the ease with which his stupendous work is performed. At Birmingham last week he adjourned to the coffee-room of the Great Western Hotel to tea with the rest of the party in the middle of the play, and chatted away as if he had nothing particular “on his mind.” Anyone might suppose that such a diversion would either put all the games out of his head or would cause them to become confused with one another. But no such effect ensued. He returned to the play with the games as much at his fingers' ends as each of them was with the player who sat down at his own board with the pieces all under his eyes. He also conducted the play without the least appearance of effort, not withstanding the mental exertion that he must have made. When all the games except two were concluded, and the time was half an hour after midnight, he walked about the room—though carefully abstaining from looking at the boards—and cracked jokes as he announced the moves by which his adversaries were being circumvented.
In one instance when the position was extremely complicated nearly all the pieces remaining on the board his opponent played a rook on his queen, Mr. Blackburne with scarcely a moment's play, said “Now I will play a bit of Morphy, I will make you a present of the queen and will take your knight with rook.” The consequence was that, after several forced exchanges, he won a clear piece and this he did in an off-hand manner, after keeping the game, and nine others, like maps on his brain, for nine hours and a half, though it would have taken an ordinary player long consideration, with the pieces before his eyes to have analysed the one position, so as to be confident of the result.
In another case, a Birmingham player had won a piece of him, and had an apparent prospect of winning the game easily, but suddenly Mr. Blackburne exclaimed, “In game number ten”—that was the only way in which he recognised the games—“I think I can announce mate in six moves,” and in six moves the mate was accomplished. The result of all the play was that, against ten of the strongest players which the Birmingham Club could produce, Mr. Blackburne won seven, drew one, lost one, and left one unfinished for want of time, he having the disadvantage in that of losing a pawn, though the game, if played out, would probably have ended in a second draw.
When the play was over he did not seem in the slightest degree distressed or fatigued. In fact, he appeared to have passed what people who go out to tea-fights describe to their hosts as a “very pleasant evening.” He lighted the one cigar at which he had taken a puff or two now and then throughout the sitting, and walked to his hotel gossiping with his companions, at one o'clock in the morning, like any ordinary night bird.—Birmingham Post.
