The Game of Chess
In Albert’s room a huge chessboard dominated. Albert made Eduard sit opposite him and they set up the pieces, with Albert choosing black.
‘Do you know,’ said Albert, ‘that Pushkin was obsessed by chess? I am probably as obsessed by chess as Pushkin, if not more so. If I had to list my interests I would say that they were chess and the life and work of Pushkin; I often go weeks without thinking of anything else. Unfortunately, though my family have a -philistine respect for Pushkin, they cannot play chess, and that young idiot Grigory Yefimovich didn’t take it -seriously enough. Also, I didn’t want his fat -fingers near the pieces. Those fat fingers are much -better suited to the sticky bun shops of Paris; good -riddance to him! Eduard, my new friend, I’m -looking forward to finally using the board. I’ve had it for ten years and it’s been idle all that time!’
‘You’ve never played on this board?’
‘On this board no, or on any other board. But chess is a science Eduard, it’s not like a sport, where you have to go in a field and practice the same thing over and over and wear yourself out; it’s all in one’s head. I consider myself a nascent chess master, not just a lug with a passing interest; someone who gets his cheap board out of the cupboard on an evening, just to pass time while his dinner cooks. I’ve read almost every published book about chess, in three languages, and I know lots of things about chess that some people who play it every day will never know. I’ve grown up with this board and I know it as well as I know myself,’ explained Albert, -pointing to three long bookshelves which spanned the room and held nothing but books about chess and Pushkin.
‘You certainly have very singular tastes,’ said Eduard.
‘In these modern times I think it’s to my credit. An uncle of mine would only eat white food and only ever wore silk clothing. I admired him immensely for it,’ said Albert.
‘Certainly, he’s to be commended for knowing his own mind,’ agreed Eduard.
Eduard started the game, with king’s pawn to e4. Then, after a very long period of consideration, Albert moved; king’s pawn to e5.
‘Among other things, chess coaches you in caution, foresight and perseverance,’ said Albert. ‘I hope you’re not bored,’ he added.
‘Not at all,’ said Eduard, who moved again (knight to Nf3). Albert stalled.
He sat back in his chair and looked out of the window.
‘It’s freezing cold out there Albert,’ said Eduard. ‘I’m very glad to be indoors.’
‘Yes,’ said Albert, and moved another piece (knight to Nf6). Three more moves were made by both black and white before Albert stood up and walked to the window.
‘Do you think it’s really that cold outside? Let’s go out and see.’
‘It is, it’s very cold; besides, we haven’t lost a piece yet.’
‘Eduard; chess is a beautiful game but it’s -important not to spend too long playing it, because if you’re not alert to it chess can consume you, turn you into a machine. I can see it in your eyes already, a certain mechanical quality. From what I’ve seen you have the kind of personality that could lead to a psychotic attachment.’
‘I didn’t feel any psychotic attachment to the game. Come and sit down; we’ll play on a little more, let the board take shape, nothing too serious.’
Albert swung around and showed Eduard a very serious face. ‘Let me tell you a story that my dear chess tutor Yakov Antonovich once told me and let us see if you change your mind.’
Albert sat down next to Eduard and pulled his chair so close to his friend’s that their knees were almost touching. He told the following story, which had occurred in a small town in Prussia some years earlier.
Hector Stein spent every minute of every day playing chess against his good friend Heinz Spector. Sometimes he took a break from the game to fill their glasses with vodka and once a day he would take a bath while his friend snoozed, but it was not very often that either man looked up from the board. It could be expected of Heinz Spector, he was a -terminal bachelor and would otherwise cause -trouble in town. Hector Stein, though, had a wife, and all that chess drove her round the bend!
‘Hector, look at me, look at me, look at me, look at me – Hector!’ Helda Stein shouted.
‘One second dear,’ answered her husband.
‘Hector look at me.’
‘Just one minute, I’ve got my eye on something.’
‘Hector, you never look at me, always at your game!’
‘I know I know, but I love you ...’
‘Hector!’
‘Please dear, one second …’
‘Gah!’
Twenty years like this and Helda Stein had barely had a marriage to speak of. Twenty years of playing second fiddle to a board game, it was almost enough to make Helda throw herself in the canal. But then one morning Heinz Spector called on the house and Hector wasn’t to be found. Heinz and Helda scratched their heads until Hector turned up in the afternoon, at a loss with himself.
‘I have a disease that will soon make me lose the feeling in my limbs,’ Hector Stein told Helda and Heinz. So it did; almost at once Hector Stein lost all sensitivity in his fingers and within a week his arms stopped moving; swinging at his sides like hung meat. After a fortnight Hector began falling about in the house and not long after he lost the use of his feet and legs completely. Hector Stein was now in effect just a head and moving the pieces on the chessboard was no longer possible. Instead Hector sat in the corner of the room with a face as black as coal barking orders at Helda who moved the pieces for him. This is much better, thought Helda (who had begun to enjoy the game).
‘Now I know how you feel my dear Hector, chess really is a wonderful pastime!’
‘Huh!’ grunted Hector.
This surliness in Hector didn’t last long: before the end of the month he had lost all capacity for speech. For a while he held a pencil in his mouth and scribbled moves on a sheet of paper. Soon even this ability was lost, but not before Helda had begun to ignore her husband’s instructions, which caused Hector to seethe silently. Heinz Spector felt pity for his friend and tried to interpret his wishes. But he didn’t try too hard because Hector was a very good player whereas Helda was very bad; Hector Stein lived on for ten years in his vegetative state but he didn’t see his wife win a single match against his friend.
One day Heinz Spector turned up drunk at the Stein’s house and challenged Helda to a game. Hector was wheeled up to the board and he soon saw that the drunk Heinz was deliberately letting Helda win. What is he up to? thought Hector. Then Hector saw it; Heinz was looking down his wife’s top. Helda saw it too and giggled. Hector thrashed around inside but there was not a ripple on the surface. Helda leant forward and patted her husband’s leg in case he was upsetting himself. Heinz and Helda played on for three hours but despite Heinz’s worst efforts he eventually won.
‘Not to mind, let’s get a drink Helda, in the conservatory perhaps,’ said Heinz.
‘Oo, yes, I’ll just get Hector,’ answered Helda.
But Hector Stein had stopped himself breathing because of his shame and had died.
That was the end of the story.
‘What do you think of that then Eduard?’ asked Albert, who was almost in tears. Eduard didn’t quite know whether the story had illustrated the dangerous nature of chess, but he was now quite -unsettled by Albert’s presence.
‘I think you should go for a walk while I read one of these books; it will help me maintain a balanced outlook on the game,’ answered Eduard, who moved to pick up one of the stray books which had fallen from the bookshelves. Albert screeched and struck Eduard’s hand away with a fire poker. Eduard did not make a peep but stood, frozen in shock, for a few short moments, before he ran around Albert in a wide arc towards the door, kicking over the chess board and scattering the pieces. The door slammed with a shudder and Albert reeled after him, falling against the door and locking it as he heard Eduard clomping down the stairs.
This is what chess does to people; it turns them into madmen.
