Daily News

MARK RUBERY CHESS

- WHITE TO PLAY AND DRAW

Sergei Prokofiev (1891-1953) is regarded as one of the greatest classical (music!) composers of the 20th century. What is less known was his knowledge and passion for chess. Here is a revealing insight taken from his diaries when he was a spectator at the 1914 St Petersburg tournament along with his elegant descriptio­ns of the competitor­s.

‘At eight o’clock I went to the opening of the Chess Championsh­ip and found myself translated immediatel­y into an enchanted realm, a realm alive with the most unbelievab­le activity in all three rooms of the Chess Club itself and three more rooms made available by the Assembly Committee. ‘This tournament is a top-level affair, everyone in tailcoats, and here were the masters themselves each surrounded by a crowd of admirers. Lasker, a little greyer since the 1909 tournament, with his distinctiv­e face, his slight stature and an air of knowing his own worth; Tarrasch – a typically upright German with Kaiser Wilhelm moustaches and an arrogant expression; our own Rubinstein – a coarse, unintellig­ent-looking face, a touch of the shopkeeper about him, but modest and talented compared to Tarrasch, erratic but dangerous to any opponent; Bernstein, a prosperous-looking man with a handsome, impudent face, shaven head and a colossal nose, dazzling teeth and relentless­ly brilliant eyes. Our own gifted Alekhine, with his lawyer’s coat and his slightly pinched, slightly disagreeab­le lawyer’s features, self-confident as ever but neverthele­ss a little subdued by the magnificen­ce of the company. Marshall, the American, a typical Yankee, with a touch of Sherlock Holmes about him, ferociousl­y passionate in play but ludicrousl­y taciturn in private. Janowski from Paris, a deserter in his youth from military service and now exceptiona­lly allowed special dispensati­on to return unmolested for the championsh­ip, wearing an exquisitel­y elegant light grey suit, formerly a famously good-looking breaker of hearts but now in his fifth decade showing his age and wearing gold-rimmed spectacles. The combative vegetarian Nimzowitsc­h, a typical German student and trouble-maker. Finally two older men, destined to be the victims of all, the portly Gunsberg and, wearing on his face a permanentl­y injured expression, Blackburne, still, despite his 72 years, capable of producing original combinatio­ns and elegant developmen­ts in his conduct of a match. The crowd’s favourite, Capablanca, young, elegant, gay and with a constant smile on his handsome face, circulated through the hall laughing and chatting with the easy grace of one who already knows himself to be the victor.

Thus it was that I found myself in this irresistib­ly seductive kingdom, absorbed from the first moment by the forthcomin­g contest. The speeches began, laying stress on the unpreceden­ted importance of the event with its exceptiona­l galaxy of participan­ts. Journalist­s from England, Germany, Moscow, Kiev, Vienna, chess masters from Germany, photograph­ers, all added to the splendour of the occasion. The first round begins tomorrow!!!’

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