In examining
Mr. Staunton's play, for example, one is struck with the French tact of
M. St. Amant's remark, made many years ago: "M. Staunton has the solidity
of iron, but neither the purity of gold nor the brilliancy of the diamond."
However much Mr. Staunton's ignoble evasion of the match with Morphy--after
bringing him, by his letter, all the way from New Orleans to London, a
voyage which would scarcely have been taken otherwise--may have stained his
reputation as a courageous and honorable chess-player, we cannot be blind
to the fact, that he is the strongest master of the game in Europe. With a
fine mathematical head, (more at home, however, in the Calculus than in
Algebra,)--with an immense power of reserve and masterly repose,--able to
hold an almost incredible number of threads without getting them
entangled,--he has all the qualities which bear that glorious flower,
success. But he is never brilliant; he has outwearied many a deeper man by
his indefatigable evenness and persistance; he is Giant Despair to the
brilliant young men. Mr. Morphy is just the _otherest_ from Staunton. Like
him only in sustained and quiet power, he brings to the board that demon of
his, Memory,--such a memory, too, as no other chess-player has ever
possessed: add to this wonderful analytic power and you have the secret of
this Chess-King. Patient practice, ambition, and leisure have done the
rest. He has thus the _lustre du diamant_, which St.
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