Slow but sure: Howard Staunton’s legacy

Slow but sure has always been a reliable motto in chess, and it is fitting that it is also the motto of the Snail Club, based at London’s L’Escargot restaurant. There is a certain appropriateness to the phrase, for the history of chess in London itself, and of Howard Staunton in particular, is a story of deliberate, persistent progress, a triumph of patience over speed, of intellect over instinct. Staunton’s introduction of the double fianchetto, a quiet but profound innovation in the opening of the game, is a perfect illustration of this principle. This week’s game offers a sublime example.

Howard Staunton was the man who placed London firmly on the global chess map. To speak of Staunton is to speak of a Victorian polymath of extraordinary versatility. He was an actor, a writer, a scholar, a chess champion, an organizer of the first international tournament in 1851, and the man whose name now identifies the standard chess set used around the world. Staunton, one imagines, might have borrowed Shakespeare’s words: “I can change shape with Proteus to advantages.” There was nothing static about him; he moved with the times, seizing opportunity and shaping circumstance to his will. And like the Julius Caesar of his favourite playwright, he bestrid the narrow world like a colossus.

Between 1843 and 1851, Staunton was universally recognized as “The Champion.” His reputation rested on decisive victories over the leading European masters of the day: Pierre Charles Fournier de Saint Amant of France, Bernhard Horwitz of Berlin, and Daniel Harrwitz of Silesia. These encounters set the template for future world championship contests, a template that persists to this day. Yet Staunton was more than a competitor; he was an organizer, a chronicler, and a magnet drawing the finest players to London. Even Morphy, the American prodigy, was drawn to Staunton’s city, playing four matches on English soil, an event that would have been unthinkable without Staunton’s influence.

Twenty years ago, a small group of enthusiasts resolved to honour his memory. The Howard Staunton Society was formed, with myself as president, Brian Clivaz of the renowned L’Escargot restaurant, and Barry Martin, a talented artist who can fairly be described as the strongest chess-playing artist since Marcel Duchamp. Our modest aim was to erect a fitting headstone in Kensal Green Cemetery, to mark the resting place of a man whose contributions had been so foundational to the game.

Staunton’s pioneering work left London as the preeminent centre of chess in the nineteenth century. Few cities, if any, can claim the breadth of elite play that London achieved. Sixteen competitions  that established the dominant player of the day were held within its bounds, a record rivalled only by Moscow and, to a lesser extent, New York. Yet while Moscow and New York could claim title contests, they were never graced by the full sweep of champions who passed through London: Labourdonnais, Morphy, Staunton himself, and the many others who made the city the heart of the chess world.

The glory days of London chess, however, are clearly divisible into two distinct periods. From the 1790s to the 1890s, London was the epicentre of chess, attracting champions who often chose to reside there. It was no coincidence that “The Immortal Game”, then regarded as the greatest chess game ever played, emerged from the London scene. Staunton himself twice defended his title in London, ensuring the city’s preeminence through a combination of skill, writing, and administrative acumen. Simpson’s in the Strand — sadly still closed since the pandemic but due to reopen in the New Year — contributed to this golden age by providing a central, almost ceremonial, venue for play.

But the end of the nineteenth century brought a decline. After the great 1899 tournament — perhaps the most significant up to that time — the frequency and calibre of London chess events diminished dramatically. Over the next forty-six years, only a handful of tournaments were staged, and between 1947 and 1972, the city hosted none at the Grandmaster level. The reasons were largely financial. Chess, while producing intellectual beauty and human drama in abundance, yields little hard revenue. Its flourishing is therefore contingent upon the wealth and stability of society. The nation’s attention was soon consumed by the Boer War, trade, armaments, and the catastrophes of two world wars. In these circumstances, chess, like many other arts, receded into obscurity.

Yet London eventually recovered, and with it, its chess. By 1973, the city once more began to attract elite competition, a revival that has endured despite the occasional setback of terrorism, pandemics, and geopolitical instability. The Staunton legacy, I believe, remains central to this renewal. His vision of chess as the proper recreation for men of genius still resonates, and his influence continues to inspire new generations of mental gladiators, ready to compete in the Colosseum of the Mind.

Staunton’s respect for classical education, for the balance of mind and body, informed his vision of chess as a discipline that cultivates intellect, judgement, and character. The inscription at his tomb, borrowed from Shakespeare’s Henry VI, captures the intensity and admiration he commanded:

Is Staunton slain, the Frenchmen’s only scourge,
Your kingdom’s terror and black Nemesis?
O, were mine eyeballs into bullets turn’d,
That I in rage might shoot them at your faces!
O, that I could but call this dead to life!
It were enough to fright the realm of France:
Were but his picture left amongst you here,
It would amaze the proudest of you all.
Give me his body, that I may bear him hence
And give him burial as beseems his worth.

The resurrection of elite chess in London, much like the city itself, seems to mirror this dramatic flourish. The Howard Staunton Society now hosts an annual black-tie dinner at L’Escargot, inviting dignitaries, historians, and players to celebrate the game and its legacy. From January 2026  members will be able to enjoy access to the library, chess sets, and the opportunity to engage in play at their tables — a blend of tradition and practical engagement that Staunton would surely have approved.

And so we return to the notion of “slow but sure.” Staunton’s contributions were not flamboyant; they were persistent, careful, and meticulous. His life demonstrates that mastery, whether of chess or of life itself, requires patience, intellect, and endurance. To study Staunton is to study the interplay of genius and circumstance, of individual brilliance and social environment. London’s chess history, from its golden age through decline and revival, is inseparable from the man who brought the city to prominence. In remembering him, we not only honour a player but the enduring spirit of chess itself: thoughtful, disciplined, and ultimately triumphant.

Howard Staunton vs. Bernhard Horwitz

London International tournament, 1851, rd. 2

Notes by Ray Keene

1. c4 e6 2. Nc3 f5 3. g3 Nf6 4. Bg2 c6 5. d3 Na6 6. a3 Be7 7. e3 O-O 8. Nge2 Nc7 9. O-O d5 10. b3

Staunton was fond of the double flank development of his bishop. It is, however, somewhat time-consuming and Horwitz should now have seized his chance to occupy the center with 10…e5.

10… Qe8 11. Bb2 Qf7 12. Rc1 Bd7 13. e4

This central thrust, all the stronger for being delayed, announces that White has won the battle of the opening.

13… fxe4 14. dxe4 Rad8 15. e5 Nfe8 16. f4 dxc4 17. bxc4 Bc5+ 18. Kh1 Be3 19. Rb1 g6

An unnecessary weakening of the f6-square from which Staunton now profits.

20. Qb3 Bc8 21. Ne4 Bb6 22. Rbd1 Na6 23. Qc3 Rxd1 24. Rxd1 Nc5 25. Nd6 Qc7 26. Qc2 Ng7 27. g4

The prelude to the decisive attack, in which Staunton’s pieces stream across to menace the black king. Firstly, Staunton restricts the possibilities of Black’s defensive knight on g7.

27… Qe7 28. Bd4 Qc7 29. a4 Na6 30. c5 Ba5 31. Qb3 b6 32. Ne4 bxc5 33. Nf6+ Kh8 34. Qh3 Ne8 35. Ba1

Staunton’s deployment of his forces creates a wonderfully aesthetic impression, highlighted by this sweeping retreat of his bishop which is, nevertheless, still firmly targeted on the black king.

35… Nxf6 36. exf6 Kg8 37. Be5 Qb7 38. Be4 Qf7

If Black can blockade the passed pawn he may survive, but Staunton’s next brilliant stroke banishes such hopes

.

39. Ng1

A profound retreat. The piece is now free to manoeuvre via f3 to e5 or g5, thus causing havoc with the defensive units around the black king.

39… Bd8 40. g5 Bb7 41. Nf3 Re8 42. Bd6 Bxf6 43. gxf6 Qxf6 44. Ng5 Qg7 45. Be5 Qe7 46. Bxg6 Black resigns 1-0

If you wish to attend the forthcoming Staunton Society dinner on November 14, where guests include Prince Marek Kasperski, Sir Alan Fersht and celebrated chess historian Richard Eales, please contact Ima Von Wenden at: secretary@snailclub.co.uk

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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