Paradise regained: the reopening of Simpson’s
The old door mat in Simpson's-on-the-Strand
Simpson’s-in-the-Strand is due to reopen this autumn after being closed for five years, ever since the Covid pandemic. For nearly two centuries, Simpson’s Grand Cigar Divan (as it was originally known) has been a landmark for chess players. The excitement is not least present with the new proprietor, the celebrated restaurateur Jeremy King. Here are his thoughts on the reopening:
“I was kept enthusiastic by the sheer pleasure of the number of inquiries I receive daily in the restaurants: ‘When is Simpson’s opening?’ – ‘Will you keep the Trolleys?’ etc – which taught us just how immense the anticipation is and kept us determined. Although after a period of thinking that we would never get the project over the line, there was a very telling moment when I returned to the site one day… I was showing around my friend, hotelier & restaurateur David and as we toured the building, he kept rather quiet, just gently nodding and hardly saying a word. To the extent that when we had finished the tour, he continued to be taciturn and I had assumed he didn’t like it or think a good idea, until he turned to me and said very firmly: ‘Jeremy, this is ***** FANTASTIC!’ And as is so often the case, seeing it through the eyes of others makes the case all the more compelling – rather like seeing our home City through new eyes does too.”
In past columns I have asked how chess players keep their brains sharp during long games. My own view is that a diet rich in fish and seafood is best. The argument comes from Professor Michael A. Crawford of Imperial College London, who has shown that Omega-3 fatty acids help brain function. At one tournament held in Simpson’s, Britain’s top grandmaster, Nigel Short, was so convinced by Crawford’s talk that he ate only fish for the duration. He won.
Not everyone agrees. Garry Kasparov liked a large steak an hour before play. Most people would be sluggish after such a meal, but Kasparov knew his opening moves so well that he could play them without thinking, saving the energy for the middle game when it was needed. Magnus Carlsen prefers lighter fare, often vegetarian. These days most top players are careful about food and drink. That was not always the case.
In 1974 I played in a grandmaster tournament in Tbilisi, Georgia — then part of the Soviet Union. Three times during the event we were taken to huge banquets: long tables covered with caviar, blinis, pelmeni, champagne, brandy, and vodka. A master of ceremonies would propose toasts and everyone had to drink. The Georgians had their own cure for overindulgence: dig a hole in the garden, lie over it so the belly hangs free, and promise never to do it again — until the next time.
After the third banquet I left with the Icelandic grandmaster Guðmundur Sigurjónsson to look for a taxi. None came. Eventually I hailed a car with a green light and a smartly dressed driver. It was, in fact, a police car. We rode back to the hotel in a caged back seat while the siren sounded.
China could match Georgia for hospitality. In Shanghai, Guangzhou, and Beijing I attended banquets of many courses: fish shaped like dragons, crispy duck, fried scorpions, and the fiery liquor Maotai, which to a British drinker seemed more like rocket fuel.
England once had feasts to rival anything in Georgia or China, though not for chess. At the installation of George Neville as Archbishop of York in 1466, the main dishes included 104 peacocks, 4,000 ducks, and 104 oxen. In modern chess the most lavish meal on record was at the London 1883 tournament, where the menu ran to several pages and the wine list included Chateau Margaux and champagne from 1874.
In spite of such history, the dining room that has seen more grandmasters than any other is Simpson’s. In the nineteenth century it was the world’s leading chess club. Its roast beef and lamb, carved from silver trolleys, were as famous as the games played upstairs. The chessboard at the top of the main staircase still commemorates the likes of Staunton, Anderssen, Morphy, Steinitz and Lasker. I played there myself on my fiftieth birthday and had my name added to the plaque.
Simpson’s was the scene of the Immortal Game in 1851, won by Anderssen. The game was so striking that messengers were sent down the Strand to telegraph the moves to chess fans in Paris. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle regularly visited Simpson’s: he may have modelled the appearance of his Professor Challenger on the world champion Wilhelm Steinitz, who played there often.
Simpson’s will soon open its doors again. The roast beef will return. And perhaps, upstairs, so will the chess. Below is the Immortal Game, annotated with the help of a modern computer.
Adolf Anderssen vs. Lionel Kieseritzky
Casual Game, Simpson’s Divan, London, 1851
- e4 e5 2. f4 exf4 3. Bc4 Qh4+ 4. Kf1 b5?
This pawn sacrifice to deflect the bishop from the a2-g8 diagonal no longer passes muster in the modern game; either 4… d6 or …Nf6 are the preferred options.
- Bxb5 Nf6 6. Nf3 Qh6 7. d3
A strangely passive move given the aggressive postures taken up by both players in this game. We are already in the murkiest waters imaginable, only Short and Kasparov having retreaded this path since our two protagonists. Preferred at this point had been 7. Nc3, but both e5 and d4 were also possible.
7… Nh5?!
Despite Black’s threat of …Ng3!?, this move concedes further ground to White. More precise was either 7… c6 or …Bc5.
- Nh4?
An awful move, intending Nf5 to attack the queen and overprotect the g3-square and ignoring Black’s immediate threats. After this, Black has a small advantage.
8… Qg5 9. Nf5 c6?!
Too routine, when 9… g6! presents White with an existential threat.
- g4?!
Toothless but flashy, offering Black the bishop for the knight. It cost nought to remove the bishop with 10. Ba4, whereas the move played permits Black an even greater initiative.
10… Nf6!?
A cautious choice when 10… g6! places White under intense pressure.
- Rg1!
With the not inconsiderable threat of h4! to follow.
11… cxb5?
A blunder apparently underpinned by a mixture of both greed and extraordinary optimism. It was necessary to play 11… h4, creating an escape square for the queen on h7 and issuing more pressure on the g4-square. Accordingly, White enjoys a spatial and tactical advantage.
- h4 Qg6 13. h5 Qg5 14. Qf3 Ng8?!
Black’s queen is now his sole active piece. Necessary was 14… Bb7! when he at least keeps a check on White playing Nd5! After the move played, White enjoys a significant advantage.
- Bxf4 Qf6 16. Nc3 Bc5??
So punctuated, not because it is a gross error, so much as because it is critical. Prior to this nineteenth century expression of gung-ho strategy, a better advised sequence, 16… Qc6! 17. a4 bxa4 18. Rxa4 Qb7 19. Nd5 Nc6 20. Nc7+ Kd8, already represents desperate measures. Now, White has the luxury of selecting precedence between some delectable finishes:
- a) 17. d4! Bf8 (Bxd4? 18. Nd5 Qc6 19. Nc7+ Kd8 20. Nxd4 Qc4+ 21. Qd3) 18. Be5 Qg5 19. Nd5, looks like the most fun; and then there is,
- b) 17. g5!? Qc6 18. Nd5 Na6 19. Be5 g6 20. Nd4 Bxd4 21. Bxd4 Nc7 22. Bxh8; which is OK…
- Nd5?
White is still much better, but as above, it could have been more.
17… Qxb2
- Bd6?
Another unnecessary demonstration of bravado, offering both rooks with check, to deflect Black’s queen. After the simple (and correct) 18. Re1, should Black continue with 18… Bb7 (18… Qa3 19. Nc7+) then White can venture 19. Bd6! with the following: 19… Bxg1 20. Kxg1 Na6 21. Qf4 Bxd5 22. Qg5 Nf6 23. Be5 Qxe5 24. Nxg7+ Kf8 25. Qxe5 Nxg4 26. Qf4, winning.
18… Bxg1?
In 1879, apparently Steinitz suggested a better move would be the acquisitive, 18… Qxa1+!, with a threat of 19. Ke2 Qb2 20. Kd2 Bxg1 and 146 years later, that view is engine approved.
- e5 Qxa1+ 20. Ke2 Na6??
It is only at this point that Black, having near-recovered his chances, decides to abandon them to a forced mate in three. Necessary was, 20… Ba6 21. Nc7+ Kd8 22. Nxa6, which despite being much worse, has at least survived with enough material to pose problems.
- Nxg7+ Kd8 22. Qf6+ Nxf6 23. Be7# 1-0
In spite of its errors, the grand magisterial sweep of White’s attacking conception has justly earned this jewel from Simpsons-in-the-Strand its undying reputation. So alluring is the power of White’s sacrificial tsunami, that the young Aron Nimzowitsch, having fallen under its spell, was sufficiently impressed to decide on chess as his future.
Ray’s 206th book, “ Chess in the Year of the King ”, written in collaboration with Adam Black, and his 207th, “ Napoleon and Goethe: The Touchstone of Genius ” (which discusses their relationship with chess) can be ordered from both Amazon and Blackwells. His 208th, the world record for chess books, written jointly with chess playing artist Barry Martin, Chess through the Looking Glass , is now also available from Amazon.
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