The American grandmaster is delivered from his suffering. "Death Challenges <bietet> Chess!" -- under this sensational title announced an American newspaper that Pillsbury had fallen victim to mental illness. And now Death has obviously won and given mate. In the flower of manhood, at the age of 34, Pillsbury has died.

Like a meteor he appeared ten years ago before the chess world. As a <homo novus> he took part in the great chess tournament at Hastings 1895 and battled against all the luminaries of the art of chess, who were all assembled -- and in brilliant fashion won a surprising victory. Then was his fortune made. His countrymen gave him an enthusiastic reception on his return, and everywhere a new chess genius was recognized. And now came a rapid succession of brilliant tournament successes, one after another. Of course, he did not again rise to the height of his first success <zum Hohe seines ersten Sieges sollte er sich nie wieder aufschwingen>, but he was always among the leading prizewinners in international tournaments.

His style had something very specifically American in it. Its main feature was unequalled energy, that instilled something very like fear in even the strongest opponents. His play was not sickled o'er with the pale cast of thought <Von des Gedankes Blasse war sein Spiel nicht angekrankelt>, and the scientific profundity, which the German master and even the German amateur know how to put in their play, was foreign to him. His play was above all practical, from which resulted the consistency of his success, in which he was equal to the best of his time. He never applied himself to the field of chess literature, and in this he resembled his brilliant countryman Morphy, as did he also in course of life, as well as chess style. For Morphy also appeared like a meteor half a century before and conquered all opponents who met him, and some years later ended in madness.

Already then competent people advised the master to abandon this idea, that must end in ruin. When he tourned Germany the following year, he everywhere exhibited blindfold play, but when he came to Nuremberg, we would not allow such an exhibition, so that we would not be accomplices in such a crime. The mental illness, that struck him a year ago, was long predicted by everyone, but, in my opinion, this was not completely correct. By itself, great effort cannot cause mental illness, if one is not (as Pillsbury was) struck by progressive paralysis. <This was, I have read, the polite term of the day for syphilis, or at least the mental symptoms that sometimes occurred in its third stage. Does anyone know whether this is true or false?> This develops rather in a body weakened by disease. Once the ground has been prepared, then many causes, for example a head injury, can bring about the fearsome mental illness that regularly ends in death. To this list of factors great mental effort can be added, but the root cause is always the shock to the whole system of already-progressing illness.

Especially in Pillsbury’s case, the newspapers have frequently stated that chess is hazardous, in my opinion quite without basis. Chess, like any intellectual activity, is healthy for men, not harmful, and mental illness comes to the insane by every possible means <und zu Geisteskrankheiten beanlagte Menschen werden durch alles moglich geistkrank>. To dispel the prejudice that chess is harmful, it is appropriate to describe those chessplayers who have fallen victim to mental illness in the last 25 years, and to investigate the causes of their disease. I will limit my investigation to those personalities I knew well and about whom I can express a knowledgeable opinion <und ich mir also hieruber eine authentische Meinung habe bilde konnen>.

Beside Pillsbury are in this era only three chessmasters of note who have been mentally ill, the Leipzig master Minckwitz, the German-Russian Schiffers <by the term Deutsche-Russe I take Tarrasch to mean the descendents of the 18th century German migration to Russia, and not people with dual nationality> and the world champion Steinitz. For Minckwitz chess has not the slightest to do with his mental illness, which in my opinion must be ascribed to “primary hallucinatory madness” <”primare halluzinatorische Verrucktheit”>. Minckwitz was unfortunately placed, such that he was at great risk of mental illness. Of his father, a professor at Leipzig University, it is recounted (not as a funny story, but as truth) that he used to say in his lectures: “There are only three great German writers: Schiller, Goethe, and the third modesty forbids me to name.” <This reads exactly like Janowski’s alleged statement about the great chessmasters of his own time – perhaps Janowski's quote is spurious?> This was the era in which Paul Lindau went eagerly on the hunt for Sunday poets <Sonntagdichtern> and, when he found one, tore him to pieces to the delight of the public. He came upon Minckwitz’s epic “The War for Liberation” <”Die Befreiungskriege”> and quoted the following verse describing the Battle of Leipzig:

Napoleon was yellow like a pickled egg <Solei>, Anyone who saw him knew good health he must beg.

<Napoleon war gelb wie ein Solei, Man sah ihm an, dass ihm nicht wohl sei.>

<Obviously I warped the meaning for the sake of getting a rhyme.>

The St. Petersburger Schiffers was broadly cultivated, highly intelligent man, with a splendid sense of humor <von prachtvollem Humor – maybe “splendid temperament” is better?>, a lively conversationalist, amiable in company <Verkehr>, in short, as the student song says, “a fellow like velvet and silk, the only harm, is that he drinks!” <”ein Kerl wie Samt und Seide, nur schade, dass er suff!”>. This he did with great consistency, and so it is no wonder, that he went to the madhouse several times, and a greater or shorter time after his release, each time relapsed. His disease was: alcoholic psychosis; chess had nothing to do with this. He never showed any particular strain playing chess; rather in tournaments he always played well “con amore,” as if nothing were at stake <sondern spielte in Turnieren immer so recht con amore, als ob es um gar nichts ginge>. Nevertheless, he achieved well-known, beautiful successes <Gleichwohl hat er bekanntlich recht huebsche Erfolge erzielt>. His sympathetic personality was known to all who met him and remains in memory. Every man has weaknesses, and every man must die, one sooner, others later, one from this, others from that disease; in fact we all die – to Life! <Swachen hat jeder Mensch, und sterben muss ebenfalls jeder Mensch, die eine fruher, der andere spater, der eine an dieser, der andere an jener Krankheit, in Grunde genommen sterben wir alle – am Leben!>

The famous Steinitz, for more that 20 years almost indisputably the strongest player in the world, fell ill in his 60th year, after the second match with Lasker in Moscow in 1896. Then the newspapers pronounced him dead, and I wrote a very detailed obituary in the Deutsche Schachzeitung, where I praised his great contributions to the art of chess, in fitting style. But lo and behold, Steinitz defied the newspapers, as well as his obituary, and in a reversal, regained his health, and seemingly recovered, played two years later in the great Vienna 1898 tournament, when I read him his obituary. <I have grave doubts about this whole sentence, which in the original reads: <Aber siehe da Steinitz Kehrte sich weder an Zeitungen, noch an seinen Nekrolog, sodern zog es vor, weider Gesung zu werden, und anschiend kerngesung spiele er zwei Jahre darauf in dem grossen Wiener Turnier 1898 mit, wo ich ihm seinen Nekrolog zu lesen gab.> Corrections welcome!> He heard it with great satisfaction and was very happy that I had placed such a bright light on his contributions.

With Pillsbury, the first symptoms of his illness began to show soon after the tournament at Cambridge Springs 1904, where he for the first time came away empty-handed, and had to see the star of his rival Marshall in shining ascent. It is probable, though, that his failure in this tournament resulted from his disease, already present, that little by little gained the upper hand and soon completely conquered him.

I understand one of Brandreth's reprints says this, but does he have a source?

I looked at this issue a little bit when I did Game Collection: St. Petersburg 1895-96. I understand that second stage syphilis (which can cause severe fevers) typically comes some months after infection. Based on this, I speculated that Pillsbury got infected before St. Petersburg, and the second stage manifested itself there.

<New York Daily Tribune on September 22, 1895:>

(quoting a letter Pillsbury sent)

<Pillsbury>: "I have been approached with regard to a chess match with Lasker for the championship, and have stated that I would say nothing till I could see my American friends. Such a match must of necessity be played in England, and the Hastings Chess Club has already requested first consideration for its financial arrangement for at least half of the games. In case the arrangements are concluded the match would hardly be commenced before March 1, 1896, and therefore I give it to you simply as news, as I shall do nothing definite about it till I see you."

He never really got the opportunity to do so, of course.

Of concern is the mistaken notion that he is not as great, or historically important, as other esteemed "Crown Princes of Chess" who also did not win the title, but who are perhaps regarded more highly-

Tarrasch, Rubinstein, Nimzowitsch, and in modern times Geller, Keres, Bronstein, Kortschnoi.