It was an affair of honour.
It was a tragedy.
It began on the morning of Monday 6th May. Richard Farleigh called Mister Barton out, and demanded his presence the next evening “for a proper game”.
What may have been the original slight? It was obscure to the public’s ken; a secret known only to the protagonists themselves and, perhaps, their Seconds. Was it a cross word over the whist table? A gambling debt? An accusation of cowardice? Or, forsooth, the honour of a lady? We shall, perhaps, never know.
But satisfaction was demanded nevertheless, and only Mister Barton would do for Farleigh. It fell to Rob Matthews, having been appointed Mister Farleigh’s Second, to deliver the challenge to Doctor Saldanha, known to act for Mister Barton in such matters of honour. Doctor Saldanha, duly appraised, quickly rode to Hyde Park, where Mister Barton was known to take his morning perambulations, and informed him of the challenge.
Mister Barton, a man of unbendable honour, knew that to refuse was unthinkable. He instructed Doctor Saldanha to accept the challenge, and go ahead to set a date and time.
Clubland was abuzz. Rarely in the annuals of Hamilton Russell chess had such a personal duel been demanded, the last recorded incident being in 1845.
Thus it was that the two duellists met at dusk the following evening, May 07th, with chess the chosen duelling weapon. The RAC Mall Room was decided as the venue – a suitably secluded spot, with somewhat of a shady reputation, but sufficiently remote to be untroubled by the authorities. The Seconds paced out the distance, the pieces were polished, oiled and checked, the doctors were on hand to tend to the wounds. Bystanders sobbed softly.
The Seconds reiterated the terms of the agreement: a fight until first blood or checkmate, whichever came first. A final opportunity was presented to both men to put their differences aside and walk away. But neither would back down. Honour must be defended. Wrongs righted. The challenge bravely met.
And so it began.
The duel
Mister Barton took the first shot. With a steady hand he pulled the trigger, and his 8.Nxd5 grazed the shoulder of Farleigh and forced him to lose castling rights. But Farleigh righted himself, raised his aim, and shot straight and true, delivering the fatal blow after Mister Barton had played 21.e5, allowing Farleigh to take two knights for a rook.
For a moment Mister Barton stood frozen. The bystanders wondered if Farleigh had missed.
Then he staggered, and fell to one knee. His Seconds ran to his side. A doctor was summoned. A dark patch began to spread from under the breast of his shirt. On a dark day for Liberal chess, it was apparent that there was nothing that could be done to stanch the blood, and there, on the floor of the RAC Club, Mister Barton uttered his final words – ‘For Gladstone’ – took his final breath, and bled out his last.
A tragedy for Liberal chess.
But let us remember: Mister Barton didn’t flinch in the face of the challenge. He died a Liberal to the last.
Rest well, Mister Barton. Rest well.
The remaining boards
Some other chess was played that day. But the Editorial Committee, out of respect for Mister Barton’s memory and his recently-widowed partner, have chosen to provide only a summary report of the goings on.
Board 2
Board 3
Board 4
A London system from White, followed by lots of piece swaps and an opposite coloured Bishop ending. Less said the better.
Board 5
Board 6
Board 7
Board 8
Doctor Widdicombe, My compliments to the NLC Editorial Committee who have clearly surpassed themselves with this particular chess report. A tale of woe and anguish but some very exciting chess all the same. Many thanks to the RAC for a thoroughly good evening.
Thank you for your compliments, Doctor Saldanha, that were passed on to us by Doctor Widdicombe just now.
We do aim to provide satisfaction in our reporting, and are glad to hear we were able to do so in relation to this tragic, woebegotten affair.