ARMAGEDDON POP

Paul Morphy, indeed, occupies a most exalted position in the annals of chess history, and with good reason. The narrative surrounding his prowess, particularly his celebrated Opera Game and the myriad commentaries by grandmasters, paints a picture of a prodigy whose talents far transcended the confines of his era. Yet, it is not uncommon for skeptics to cast aspersions upon the quality of opposition he faced, perhaps in an attempt to temper the almost mythic reverence afforded him.

Turning to the specific game in question, played against Eugène Rousseau, we are dealing with a player of no insignificant repute by the standards of the time. Rousseau, born in 1810 in France and having established himself in New Orleans by the early 1840s, was a formidable figure within the chess circles of his day. His narrow losses in over a hundred games against the esteemed Kieseritzky in Paris, as well as his contest for the U.S. Championship against Stanley in 1845, speak to his considerable skill. It is worth noting that Rousseau's matches with Morphy, in which he was soundly defeated in the majority of over fifty encounters, occurred at a time when Morphy was still a mere boy, yet already demonstrating a profound mastery of the game.

That only two of these games have survived the ravages of time is indeed a lamentable fact, yet the record that remains still affords us ample evidence of Morphy’s genius. When one considers that young Morphy played this particular game blindfolded—a feat that even the most seasoned players might struggle with—one must surely acknowledge the extraordinary nature of his talent. This alone should compensate for any perceived deficiencies in the calibre of his contemporaries.

Moreover, we must also consider the context in which young Morphy developed his skills. As a child of a relatively affluent family, his diversions would have been limited compared to those available to the youth of today. Chess, in such a setting, would naturally become a most engaging and rewarding pursuit, offering endless intellectual stimulation. Indeed, one could argue that, much like a marooned soul finding solace in a chessboard on a deserted island, Morphy, too, found in chess a world of infinite possibility—a world in which he would reign supreme.

In conclusion, while it is true that Morphy's opponents may not have been as universally strong as today’s grandmasters, the conditions under which he played, coupled with his prodigious natural talent, more than compensate for this.