Parliamentary pieces
The Westminster Alice is the name of a collection of vignettes written by Hector Hugh Munro (better known by his pseudonym “Saki”) in 1902 and published by The Westminster Gazette. It is a political parody of Lewis Carroll’s two books, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (1865) and Through the Looking-Glass (1871).
The book features 48 drawings by Francis Carruthers Gould, after the celebrated originals by John Tenniel. It is critical of the politics of the day, of which Alice tries to make sense. A number of notable British politicians are identified in the book. Joseph Chamberlain is the Queen of Hearts, the Red Chess Queen, and the Mad Hatter; Arthur Balfour is the White Chess Queen and the March Hare; the Marquess of Salisbury is the King of Hearts and the Dormouse; the Archbishop of Canterbury, Frederick Temple, is the Duchess; and the Boer War General Sir Redvers Buller (known amongst his common soldiery as Sir Redvers Blunder) is Humpty Dumpty.
In the wake of my obituary for Sir Jeremy Hanley on June 6, I find myself drawn, by one of those curious chains of association which so often govern the life of the mind, to consider the relationship between Parliament and the royal game of chess. The connection is perhaps less improbable than it first appears. Politics and chess alike concern themselves with strategy, foresight, manoeuvre, ambition, and, not infrequently, betrayal.
One parliamentarian who did not himself play chess, yet nevertheless exerted an influence upon the game, was Iain Macleod. Having failed to attain the premiership after Macmillan, he was appointed editor of the Spectator in December 1963. A delightful Vicky cartoon, in the possession of our Editor, Daniel Johnson, depicts Macleod seated at his desk. The drawing alludes to an interview he had recently given, in which he expressed a desire to restore features such as a crossword, a chess column, and a bridge column—the latter reflecting his own celebrated expertise at bridge. Hanging upon the wall is a portrait of Sir Alec Douglas-Home clad in shooting attire. Beneath it appears the caption: “Mustn’t be too clever by half.” This alludes to Macleod’s catchphrase, originally an insult by another Lord Salisbury, who had denounced the then Colonial Secretary as “too clever by half”.
From this charming fragment of period humour, one may reasonably deduce that it was Macleod who rescued the Spectator chess column (which I personally wrote from 1977-2019, until fired at the age of 70) from extinction.
As noted in this column last week, it was Mrs Thatcher who most obligingly opened the London 1986 World Chess Championship match between Anatoly Karpov and Garry Kasparov. As related last week, Sir Jeremy Hanley MP, himself an accomplished chess player, suggested the idea to the Prime Minister, only to be met with the practical question: why should I do that? Sir Jeremy, displaying the quickness of mind so often associated with strong players, replied: “Prime Minister, next day your picture will be on the front page of every Soviet newspaper.” The argument proved irresistible. History records not only that she accepted, but that she even shed a tear during the ceremony as the Band of the Brigade of Guards struck up the national anthem.
To maintain a proper political balance, I invited a former Labour Prime Minister, James Callaghan, who was himself a chess enthusiast, to close the 1986 proceedings. By one of those curious coincidences in which life occasionally delights, my wife and I dined with Callaghan in the House of Lords in March 1991, only a few hours before our son Alexander was born. Alexander therefore narrowly avoided the distinction of being delivered in the House of Lords.
Other parliamentarians with a fondness for chess included Julius Silverman, Brian Walden, Michael Stern, and Lord Hardinge of Penshurst, the last named sadly removed from their Lordships’ House when the hereditary peers were expelled.
Among Prime Ministers, Andrew Bonar Law stands out as a notably strong amateur player and remains, by a considerable margin, the strongest chess player ever to have ascended Disraeli’s famous “greasy pole”. An excellent account of his chess career may be found here.
Bonar Law’s exploits included a narrow defeat against Capablanca in a consultation game — a result which in itself speaks eloquently of his ability. This game took place in 1919; by the time they met again at the London Tournament in 1922, Capablanca was World Champion and Bonar Law was Prime Minister. Tragically, his premiership lasted only 209 days before he was forced to resign by illness. He died shortly afterwards.
In his Divine Comedy, the immortal Dante reserved a special region of the Inferno for hypocrites and politicians , two categories which he appears to have regarded as standing in a relationship of near equivalence. In previous chess columns I have referred to Dante’s use of chess within his cosmological framework, specifically in his attempt to describe the number of angels inhabiting the celestial spheres. The calculation derives from the familiar problem of placing a single grain of corn upon the first square of a chessboard and doubling the quantity upon each succeeding square. The resulting total—two to the sixty-fourth power minus one—belongs to that class of numbers so vast as to exceed the ordinary powers of human imagination.
A memorable passage from Inferno, Canto XXXIV, describes the concluding stage of Dante’s descent through Hell in the company of his guide, the Latin poet Virgil.
As they approach the centre of the Ninth Circle, Dante perceives a gigantic shape looming in the distance, while beneath his feet lie sinners entirely submerged within ice. These are the worst of all offenders: traitors to their benefactors. Their region, the Fourth Ring of the Ninth Circle, bears the name of the supreme betrayer, Judas Iscariot, whose victim was none other than Jesus Christ Himself.
The colossal figure gradually reveals itself as Lucifer—Satan, or Dis. This monstrous being possesses three hideous faces, each surmounted by vast wings whose ceaseless beating generates the freezing winds that preserve Cocytus, the lake of ultimate sinners, in its eternal immobility.
Within each of Lucifer’s mouths is imprisoned a sinner. According to Dante, they are the three greatest traitors in human history. In the central maw hangs Judas Iscariot; in the jaws to left and right are Brutus and Cassius, assassins of Julius Caesar. Brutus and Cassius protrude headfirst, while Judas is fixed in reverse, only his legs visible. The infernal mouths continually chew their victims, tearing them apart while never granting them the release of death.
I like to imagine that somewhere within Dante’s Ninth Circle there exists a subsidiary compartment reserved for a particularly modern category of offender: those traitors who not only betray their benefactors but who also fire their chess correspondents, when they reach the age of seventy, and, most heinous of all, misuse chess metaphors with complete abandon, typically confusing check, checkmate and stalemate.
Amid the overwhelming canaille that constitutes our contemporary political class, one finds the Labour Shadow Chancellor Rachel Reeves, formerly a junior chess champion and still possessed of formidable chessboard abilities. The Eagle sisters, Angela and Maria, were likewise skilled players in their earlier incarnations.
Yet the laurels must surely go to Marmaduke Wyvill, MP for Richmond in Yorkshire. At the London tournament of 1851 — the first international gathering of leading masters in history — he secured second prize, finishing ahead of Staunton, Horwitz, Williams, Szen, and most of the other distinguished masters of the age. More impressively still, Wyvill defeated Anderssen—the eventual victor of the tournament—on two occasions. By any reasonable standard, this achievement made him runner-up in what was, for all practical purposes, the world chess championship of the day.
Adolf Anderssen vs. Marmaduke Wyvill
London International tournament, 1851, round 4
- e4 c5 2. d4 cxd4 3. Nf3 Nc6 4. Nxd4 e6 5. Be3 Nf6 6. Bd3 Be7 7. O-O O-O 8. Nd2 d5 9. Nxc6 bxc6 10. e5 Nd7 11. f4 f5
2. Rf3?!
White best exploits his slight advantage with 12. exf6 Bxf6 13. Nf3 g6 14. Rb1 e5 15. fxe5 Nxe5 16. Qd2. The move played reverses fortunes.
12… c5 13. Rh3 Rf7 14. b3 g6 15. Nf3 Nb6 16. Bf2 d4 17. Bh4 Nd5 18. Qd2 a5 19. Bxe7 Rxe7 20. Ng5 Ne3 21. Qf2?!
Both 21. c3 or Bb5 constrained Black gaining any further advantage.
21… Bb7 22. Bf1 Ng4 23. Qh4 Qd7 24. Rd1 Rc8 25. Be2
25… h5?
An awful continuation bestowing a considerable initiative to White. Had black preferred, 25… h6 26. Nf3 Rg7 27. Nd2 Ne3 28. Rxe3 dxe3 29. Nc4 Qc6 30. Bf3 Qc7 31. Bxb7 Qxb7 32. Nd6 Qd7; the position would have remained completely level.
- Rg3 Qe8 27. Rd2 Rg7 28. c3 Ne3 29. cxd4 cxd4 30. Rxd4 Rc1+ 31. Kf2 Nd5 32. Rgd3 Qc6 33. Rd2 Qb6 34. Bc4??
With this one mistake, White discharged all advantage, rendering the position completely equal. If instead, 34. Kg3 Rd7 35. Kh3 a4 36. bxa4 Kg7 37. Bf3 Kh6 38. a5, white would be close to winning.
34… Rc2 35. Ke1??
And this error leaves black with a near-winning advantage. Both, 35. Kg3 Rxd2 36. Rxd2 Qe3+ 37. Nf3 Nc3 38. Qd8+ Kh7 39. Rd7 Rxd7 40. Qxd7+, and 35. Rxc2 Qxd4+ 36. Kg3 Qe3+ 37. Nf3 Nc3 38. Bxe6+ Kh7 39. Bc4 Be4 40. Rb2 were enough to have retained full parity.
35… Rxd2 36. Rxd2 Qg1+ 37. Bf1??
Losing – white could have stabilised a still playable position after, 37. Ke2 Nc3+ 38. Kd3 Rd7+ 39. Kc2 Rxd2+ 40. Kxd2 Qd4+ 41. Kc2 Nd1 42. Qe1 Ne3+ 43. Kc1 Nxc4 44. bxc4 Qxf4+, but after the move played, is in a hopeless position.
37… Rc7 38. Rd1??
After this move, mate must follow. Relatively better was, 38. Qg3 Rc1+ 39. Rd1 Rxd1+ 40. Kxd1 Qxf1+ 41. Qe1 Qxf4 42. Qxa5 Ne3+ 43. Ke2 Ba6+ 44. Qxa6 Qf1+ 45. Kxe3 Qxa6.
38… Rc2 39. Qg3 Ba6 40. Qf3
40… Bxf1!? White resigns 0-1
Even better, though a move which causes resignation can hardly be excoriated, is the Mate which could have followed, one example of which continues, 40… Re2+ 41. Qxe2 Bxe2 42. Rxd5 Qxf1+ 43. Kd2 Qd1+ 44. Ke3 exd5 45. Nf3 Bxf3 46. gxf3 d4+ 47. Kf2 Qd2+ 48. Kg1 d3 49. e6 Kf8 50. e7+ Kxe7 51. Kf1 Qe2+ 52. Kg1 d2 53. a3 d1=Q#.
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 Blackwell’s. His 208th, the world record for chess books, written jointly with the late chess playing artist, Barry Martin, Chess through the Looking Glass , is now also available from Amazon.
A Message from TheArticle
We are the only publication that’s committed to covering every angle. We have an important contribution to make, one that’s needed now more than ever, and we need your help to continue publishing throughout these hard economic times. So please, make a donation.
