In the
Beginning...

Taylor
Kingston

De la Bourdonnais versus
McDonnell, 1834 by Cary Utterberg, 2005
McFarland & Co., Hardcover, English Algebraic Notation, 404pp.,
$55.00.

“Lots were drawn to decide who should open
the first game,  de la Bourdonnais won and played his move,
Greenwood Walker carefully scribed ‘K.P. two,’ and the history of chess
came into bold relief.” — from page
22

Ask the average person today to
name the greatest inventors, and you are likely get a list of relatively
recent vintage: Edison, Bell, Ford, the Wright brothers, maybe even
someone as current as Bill Gates. Important, certainly, but they would
never have conceived their creations were it not for the unknown
Mesopotamian who first put wheels on an axle, or the Paleolithic genius
who figured out how to start a fire or make a stone knife.

Similarly,
when asked to name the most important matches in history, many chess fans
would give one of the Kasparov-Karpov matches, or Fischer-Spassky 1972;
the more history-minded might mention, say, Steinitz-Zukertort
1886.

Yet preceding
all these, and in a very real sense inaugurating modern chess, was a duel
less likely to be mentioned: the Frenchman Louis Charles de la Bourdonnais
versus the Irishman Alexander McDonnell, in London, 1834. Actually six
matches of varying length, this was the first chess encounter that could
be considered any sort of world championship. It was the first to attract
widespread international attention, to be preserved in its entirety, to be
extensively published and analyzed. It also had a major impact on opening
theory, then in its infancy. And compared to this epic series of 85 games
played June-October 1834, even such modern marathons as
Capablanca-Alekhine 1927 and Karpov-Kasparov 1984-85 look like short
sprints.

The match has
gotten little attention for many years now. It’s obligatory to note it at
least briefly in any book of the Compleat
History of Chess sort, but
these tend to recycle the same few games and anecdotes. All the more
surprising, therefore, to see the extensive treatment it gets in this
book. Equally surprising is that comes from a relative unknown in the
chess history field: Cary Utterberg, a mathematician and USCF master from
Minnesota. Until now he had written only one (relatively obscure) book,
The Dynamics
of Chess Psychology (Chess
Digest, 1994), and to our knowledge had given no indication that he could
produce anything like this. De la
Bourdonnais versus McDonnell, 1834 is, quite
simply, the most thorough and insightful work we have ever seen about this
event, and one of the best of its kind.

Utterberg
begins a thirty-page introduction by sketching the chess world of the late
18th and early 19th centuries. During this era the best players came
mainly from France (e.g. Philidor, Deschapelles, Schlumberger) and England
(Sarrat, Cochrane, William Lewis et al). De la Bourdonnais, born 1795,
started playing regularly at Paris’ Café de la Régence around 1818 and
soon became a pupil of the quirky, colorful Deschapelles, the house pro
who made a living scalping amateurs in odds games. Deschapelles retired
around 1824, de la Bourdonnais assuming his position as the Régence’s (and
therefore France’s) top player. McDonnell, born 1798 in Belfast, took a
more conventional career path in business, working as a merchant in the
West Indies. Some time in the 1820s he came to England and became
interested in chess, learning from Lewis, Capt. Evans (of Evans Gambit
fame) and others, eventually surpassing Lewis as England’s best about
1830, becoming especially famous for his skill when giving odds of knight
or rook.

Organized
chess competition was then virtually non-existent, and the two masters
might have continued in their separate spheres indefinitely, but,
motivated both by curiosity about McDonnell’s growing fame, and by the
prospect of financial gain, de la Bourdonnais visited London in 1834.
Utterberg writes:

“With the
world’s two strongest active masters in the same city, it did not take
long for both contestants to find financial backing, and a match was
soon underway for a stake at the Westminster Chess Club.”

Louis Charles de la
Bourdonnais

The games
were played under conditions that would have horrified modern GMs. A crowd
of onlookers huddled close around the board, their cigars and pipes
clouding the air. Some following the game on other boards nearby made
audible comments. De la Bourdonnais, a fast mover and not a humble man,
continually peppered McDonnell with arrogant taunts and complaints about
his slowness (no clocks were used). McDonnell bore this hectoring in stoic
incomprehension, since neither spoke the other’s language. Accustomed as
we are now to top-level chess being conducted in smoke-free antiseptic
silence, it seems amazing that the two men could have kept this up four to
six days per week for four or five months. Draws did not count, so there
were no energy-saving short draws; the average game was about 43 moves,
and the longest contests lasted 81, 92, 93, 99 and 100 moves. If a match
game concluded early enough, Bourdonnais, with seemingly boundless energy,
would often stay up to all hours playing small-stakes skittles with
spectators, while McDonnell would go home to sleep, or at least try, often
wrestling with nervous insomnia.

Probably
nothing like the eventual total of 85 games was originally envisioned;
apparently the contest kept being extended by fresh wagers, as losing
backers tried to recoup their losses. Who won how much money is not known,
but by any measure, the game of chess was the biggest winner.

Utterberg
attributes the match’s impact to William Greenwood Walker, who acted as
something of a Boswell to McDonnell’s Johnson. Walker had the then novel
idea of recording the games, and later publishing them in book form. He
dutifully sat through the entire 85, recording every single move by hand.
Utterberg considers this nothing less than “perhaps the single most
important innovation in the history of chess.” Before then, instructive
books, such as Lewis’ Second Series
of Lessons on the Game of Chess (1832), were
“dominated by a yearning desire to manifest forcing combinations,”
focusing on composed sequences of inferior play that allowed flashy
refutations, rather than objectively analyzing actual games. Utterberg
summarizes succinctly:

“At that
time, after a thousand years of popularity, chess had generated almost
no real, game tested theory. Then, within thirty to forty years —
overnight by all previous standards — the strategic ideas of Steinitz
were taking shape. The primary cause of this revolution was a movement
away from abstract theorizing, establishing recorded master games as the
ground of chess theory.”

The games of
the match proper take up the bulk of the book, pages 45-310. There are
full annotations, for which Utterberg seems to have left no stone
unturned: the notes come from a host of 19th-century masters including
Morphy, Anderssen, Löwenthal, Jaenisch, Bilguer, Bledow, Staunton,
Dufresne, Steinitz, Lasker, and Mason, later annotators such as
Tartakower, Romanovsky, Keres, Bronstein, Neishtadt, Kasparov, Levy, and
Harding, and even such obscure sources as the minor American master A.J.
Goldsby. These are supplemented by Utterberg’s own analyses. A sample
excerpt, from game four of the first match, after Bourdonnais’
24.Rd1-g1:

24…Kf8? — “The last
few moves make a fine impression as far as de la Bourdonnais’ ability to
bring his forces into aggressive cooperation. McDonnell now finds himself
on the precipice, as evidenced by a line given by Tartakower and DuMont:
24…Bd7? 25.Rg7+ Ke8 26.e5! Bf8 (26…Be5? 27.Re1) 27.R7g6, with a much
better game. Nevertheless — despite the danger of his situation — Black
could now seize the moment and gain the advantage with 24…f3!, as
demonstrated by Goldsby: (1) 25.Rg7+? Kf8 26.h4 Be5 27.R7g6 fe 28.Ne4 Bf5
29.R6g5 Bf4+, winning the exchange. (2) 25.Rd2 Kf6, and Black is
threatening …Bf4 — meanwhile dismissing any concerns over White advancing
his center pawns.”

Openings,
then very much terra
incognita, are a
particular focus of the book. Many of the lines look strange to modern
eyes, for example in the Queen’s Gambit, we see 1.d4 d5 2.c4 dxc4 3.e3
e5 4.dxe5?!, and 1.d4 d5 2.c4 dxc4 3.Nc3 f5?!. Against
Bourdonnais’ Sicilian, McDonnell introduced the then-novel 1.e4 c5
2.Nf3 Nc6 3.d4, but more often he played the stodgy Philidor
variation, a line Morphy deemed “radically bad”: 1.e4 c5 2.f4 e6 3.Nf3
d5 4.e5 Nc6 5.c3 f6 6.Na3 Nh6 7.Nc2 Be7 8.d4

effectively
turning the game into a poor sort of Advance French. On the other hand,
McDonnell’s line in the King’s Gambit, though now considered unsound, was
anything but stodgy: 1.e4 e5 2.f4 exf4 3.Nf3 g5 4.Bc4 g4 5.Nc3?
(McDonnell’s preference over Muzio’s 5.0-0) 5…gxf3 6.Qxf3 Nc6?
(6…d6!) 7.d4! Nxd4? 8.Bxf7+!

Prior to the
match, McDonnell’s favorite had been the Bishop’s Gambit, 1.e4 e5 2.f4
exf4 3.Bc4, but despite Bourdonnais’ meeting it with lines now known
to be inferior, such as 3…Qh4+ 4.Kf1 g5?

McDonnell
scored poorly, losing seven out of 10 games as White. Other now
seldom-seen lines included McDonnell’s inferior response to the Scotch
Gambit (1.e4 e5 2.Nf3 Nc6 3.d4 exd4 4.Bc4 Qf6?), the wild McDonnell
Double Gambit (1.e4 e5 2.Bc4 Bc5 3.b4 Bxb4 4.f4), and two lines of
the Bishop’s Opening, the López Gambit (1.e4 e5 2.Bc4 Bc5 3.Qe2)
and the Philidor Variation (1.e4 e5 2.Bc4 Bc5 3.c3). The most
frequent openings turned out to be the King’s Gambit (10 games), Queen’s
Gambit Accepted (15), various Sicilians (20), and the then-new Evans
Gambit (22 games), with which Bourdonnais scored +11 –3 =2 as White,
McDonnell +4 –1 =1. Theory buffs will enjoy a 24-page appendix, “Opening
Theory, Then and Now,” in which Utterberg compares the games to various
opening manuals, ranging from Philidor’s L’Analyse du
jeu des échecs (1749) to
today’s ECO.

However, it
is not openings for which the match is mainly remembered, but rather
sparkling tactical play. Because theory and defensive technique were then
relatively  undeveloped, combinations abound. A few examples, the
first from Bourdonnais-McDonnell, match two, game four (game 29
overall):

31...Rxf2+!
32.Kxf2 32.Qc5+ 33.Kg2 — 33.Kf1
allows mate in five. 33…Rd2+ 34.Kh3 Qe3+ 35.Nf3 Qxf3+ 36.Kh4 Qxh1+
37.Kg5

37…Kf8
and 0-1, 55.
Staunton later pointed out the elegant simplification 37…Qxh6+! 38.Kxh6
Rh2+ 39.Kg5 h6+ 40.Kxf4 Rf2+ 41.K any Rxf6 43.exf6 a5 and wins. Here is
Bourdonnais-McDonnell, game 37:

30.f6! Rxd4
31.Qe3 Rg4 32.Re7 d4 33.Qe5 Rg5

34.f7+! Rxe5
35.f8=Q+ Rxf8 36.Rxf8#.

A few
brilliancies were assisted by mistakes, as in Bourdonnais-McDonnell, game
21:

33…Qe1+
34.Rxe1? — White
should win with 34.Nb1! Qxg3 35.Rh7+ Kg8 36.gxf7+ Kxh7 37.Rh1+! Kg7
38.fxe8=Q. 34…Re1+ 35.Qxe1 Nxe1 36.Rh7+ Kg8 37.gxf7+ Kxh7 38.f8=Q
Nc2#.

Perhaps the
most famous finale is Bourdonnais’ wrap-up to game 16 of match four (62nd
game overall):

32…Qe1
33.Rcc1 d2! 34.Qc5 Rg8 35.Rd1 e3 36.Qc3 Qxd1! 37.Rxd1 e2

0-1. A
position unique in chess history.

The
combinations were not all of the forced-win variety. While neither player
had great positional sense by modern standards, both understood the value
of long-term sacrifices, as here, in “the first immortal game”
(Fine),

where
McDonnell made what Utterberg calls “the most famous move played up to
this point in chess history,” 13…Nxd5!. After 14.Bxe7 Ne3+
15.Ke1 Kxe7 his active pieces gave him an enduring attack (0-1,
37).

The final
overall result was +45 –27 =13 in de la Bourdonnais’ favor; he won four of
the six matches (the 1st, 3rd, 4th, and 5th), McDonnell two (the 2nd and
6th). The Frenchman went back to Paris, and the two never met
again.

Utterberg
follows the games with several appendices. “The Statistics” gives some
Elo-rating calculations, and breaks down the games in various ways:
results by opening and phase of the match, frequency of error, etc.
“Statistical Data” tries to pinpoint all significant errors and assign
them to the opening, middlegame, or endgame. Twelve games by de la
Bourdonnais against opponents other than McDonnell are given, as are
twelve by McDonnell against others, all fully annotated. Also six games
and one fragment by Deschapelles, lightly annotated. There are brief
excerpts from several books: Lewis’ A Selection
of Games at Chess (1835),
Bledow’s Funfzig
auserlesene Schach-Partien
(Fifty
selected chess games, 1835),
Greenwood Walker’s Games by the
Late Mr. M’Donnell (1836), and
George Walker’s The Café de
la Régence
(1840).

All told,
quite a mass of material. There seem to be some new findings or
corrections of old errors. For example, G.H. Diggle, writing in the
British Chess
Magazine, said the
first match was a fixed length of 21 games, while Utterberg says it was
for 16 games up, draws not counting, which seems more sensible in view of
the final +16 –5  =4 score. Some have thought that three game scores
from the sixth match were lost; Utterberg explains that McDonnell was
granted odds of a 3-point lead, and thus the “missing” games do not exist.

The book it
is quite well organized. Scholars and serious history buffs will be
pleased with the detailed indexing and careful listing of sources.
Utterberg is a competent writer in terms of both chess and grammar; the
only flaws we noticed were a tendency to omit hyphens and an occasional
floridity (an example of both in one sentence: “Charles de
la Bourdonnais was, above all, an over the board master — a sagacious brow
inclined over the ancient ashtapada, his pulsing nostrils trained
on the scent of prey.”)

Other flaws
are few and relatively minor. There are some typos in the game scores.
Spot-checking the analysis, it was surprising how often the old annotators
proved correct, but the same is not true of Utterberg’s own notes (we say
this on the assumption that uncredited notes are his). It appears they are
not computer-checked. For example, at this point in game 81,

Utterberg
writes “Black must concern himself with the pawn advance e6 if his queen
advances prematurely: 28…Qb4? 29.Ra4.” Having mentioned the pawn advance,
one wonders why he then recommends 29.Ra4, since much stronger is 29.e6!
Bxe6 30.Rxe6 Qxa3 31.Nxf5+ Kf8 32.Nxh6 Nxh6 33.Qxg6+–. In a sub-variation
from further on in the same game,

Utterberg
here gives “48.Bxh4! Nxd4+.” In fact 48.Bxh4?! throws away much of White’s
advantage if Black replies not 48…Nxd4? but 48…Rc8, Ra8, or Rh8; much
better is first 48.Rb7+! and either 48…Ke8 49.Bxh4 or 48…Kg6 49.Re7 Ng7
50.Bxh4.

However, such
errors seem confined to side lines — evaluations of the actual game moves,
drawn heavily from the old masters, are generally reliable — with one
major exception: Löwenthal. In checking several analyses by this
contemporary of Morphy, Fritz8
found some
definite errors. The most glaring example is in game 21, where
here

Bourdonnais
played 21.b3. Utterberg says “Bourdonnais misses his chance to
seize the initiative. To that end, Löwenthal offers a fine piece of
analysis, beginning with the expansive 21.e5! de 22.Ne4, and now … Black’s
king is in imminent danger if he tries 22…ab? 23.Bf6 Qa3? 24.Bc4.” True
enough, but if instead of Löwenthal’s 23…Qa3?, Black plays a line that
inexplicably goes unmentioned, the rather obvious and natural recapture
23…gxf6

Fritz8 shows Black
winning in all variations, e.g. 24.Qxb2 Ra4 25.a3 (not 25.Qxb6?? Rb4+)
25…Bxd4 26.Nxd4 Rxd4 (rated by Fritz about
–2.95), or 24.Nc3 Qa3 25.Qxb2 Bc6 (–2.77), or 24.Bc4 Kg7 25.dxe5 fxe5
(25…Bxg1!?) 26.Rg5 Be6 (–2.29). Löwenthal’s “fine piece of analysis” goes
on for almost a full column, but is worth little due to the gross
oversight at the start. Going back to the previous diagram, best seems
neither Bourdonnais’ 21.b3 nor Löwenthal’s 21.e5, but 21. Nc4!, a move not
mentioned at all.

Even Morphy
errs now and then, though not as seriously. Later on in the same game,
after 28…Nf6xd5!

Utterberg
writes “Morphy shows why neither knight can be captured … Black has a
solid two extra pawns after 29.ed Qg5 30.Qd3 Qd5.” Actually in that line
Black has a good deal more than two pawns after 30…Qf6! 31.Nc4 Bxd5!
32.Qxd5 Re2!,

followed by
wholesale slaughter (–12.49). But at least in Morphy’s lines Black still
wins easily.

We know of one possibly
important historical source that goes unmentioned, the Diggle article
referred to above. Written for the BCM at the 1934 centenary of the
match, it has some local color and biographical detail that would have
enhanced the book. Also there are some unresolved discrepancies: Diggle
says that the sixth match “had to be left unfinished,” while Utterberg
believes it concluded normally when McDonnell won five games. It seems
unlikely that with all Utterberg’s research he was unaware of Diggle’s
article. Perhaps he felt it had no independent significance, since it’s
based largely on Greenwood Walker’s account.

Historically,
it was no small loss to the game that this match was virtually the last
serious chess either contestant ever played. McDonnell died within a year,
at age 37, victim of a kidney infection that some think was exacerbated by
the stress of the match. De la Bourdonnais lived a bit longer, founding
the world’s first chess magazine, Le Palamède, but never again
played any comparable match or opponent, just  odds games for small
stakes against lesser lights. After 1838 his health too deteriorated, and
by December 1840 he was dead, at age 45. It is intriguing to imagine what
might have happened had they lived two or three decades longer. Would
McDonnell have improved enough to surpass Bourdonnais? How might they have
fared against later masters: Saint-Amant, Staunton,
Anderssen, Morphy? How might they have influenced the game’s
development?

Fortunately,
at least, no imagination is required now to understand what they did
actually do. Mr. Utterberg has taken care of that in fine style. De la
Bourdonnais versus McDonnell, 1834 must be considered the definitive
work on this important event, and one of the best of its kind ever. It is
a book that scholars will cherish, and that anyone with the least interest
in the game’s history will enjoy.

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