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However entertaining and amusing the article which appears in The Fortnightly Review, entitled “The Chess Masters of the Day,” bearing the signature of L. Hoffer, may prove to the general reader, there are reasons why it is not likely to pass the more observant chess friend and true lover of the game without grave misgivings and deep regret; and it is probably not very rash to predict that, notwithstanding, the smile that may be evoked here and there at the expense of the unhappy lampooned Chess Masters, the feeling most predominant at the close of reading the article will be very near akin to extreme disappointment?
It is but fair, at the outset, to observe that the writer does not seem to claim that his article is a disquisition on the game of chess; that it is not so may, at once, be granted; but, it is unfortunate that even as a record of what it purports to be, viz., “The Chess Masters of the Day,” a few lines will suffice to show that it is not sufficiently connected, reliable, or complete to form a chapter in chess history, or to be of any lasting interest from a descriptive Chess Master’s point of view.
Having first generalised the main contents of the article, we may then proceed to point out its shortcomings, as well as the more serious objections to it.
Of the 13 pages and 533 lines to which the article extends, more than three-fourths are devoted to foreign players; that apportioned, by the author, to panegyric of his present colleague, Zukertort and to sneers, and personalities bordering on vituperation of his past friend, the World’s Champion, Steinitz, being about equally balanced.
To the English Chess Masters mentioned, four in number, Blackburne, Burn, Bird, and Mackenzie, the space allotted is less than a fifth of that given to four foreign Masters, Zukertort, Steinitz, Rosenthal, and Lowenthal. The writer himself also figuring somewhat conspicuously.
The reason for the introduction, and at such length, of the name of the distinguished Hungarian player, Lowenthal, into an article presumably by title intended for living Masters, is not at all apparent—he died in 1876. Anderssen, far more successful if not far greater as a chess-player considered by many, including the writer of this article, as King of all chess-players, who lived till 1879, is not even mentioned. The selection may seem to have been made for effect, and for the purpose of reproducing certain too oft repeated jokes and quaint notions commonly attributed to Lowenthal; that highly agreeable and justly popular gentleman having apparently been regarded (if the expression may be permitted) as a very convenient peg on which to hang some funny sayings and ideas.