A Century of Chess: San Sebastian 1911

In the whole history of chess, there have really only been a few fantastic debuts - an astonishingly large number of them by Americans. There’s Morphy’s European tour of 1858; Pillsbury’s victory at Hastings in 1895; Fischer’s arrival in the Candidates tournament as a 14-year-old; the emergence of Marshall as a world-class player at Paris 1900. Throw in Karpov’s run at the world championship in 1973-75, Kasparov’s run in 1982-4, and Rubinstein’s victory in his first top-rank tournament at Carlsbad 1907 and that’s pretty much the grand tally. Also on that list and maybe at the very top is the two-part debut of Jose Raul Capablanca. In 1909, he defeated Marshall (then one of the top five or ten in the world) by the staggering score of +7. Invited to San Sebastián 1911 - which had a good claim to being the strongest tournament ever conducted - he won by a half-point, instantly establishing himself as one of the very strongest if not the strongest player in the world. "This is a great moment in his life," wrote Lasker in a charming tournament summary. HIs name is known everywhere, his fame as a chess master is firmly established. And he is 22 years of age. Happy Capablanca!" 

Capalanca’s inclusion in the tournament met with great resistance from the other participants - an indication of the stodginess of the international chess circle in this era. Bernstein in particular objected strenuously to his inclusion, and it took a generous recommendation from Marshall - who had just lost his match to Capablanca and was just through a somewhat ugly dispute with him over their respective claims for the U.S. championship - to secure his place. On his arrival, he kibitzed at a speed game between Bernstein and Nimzowitsch. Nimzowitsch told Capablanca he didn’t yet have the right to make comments, which resulted, writes Capablanca, "in a quick series of games for a side bet." Capablanca won those and then thoroughly beat all comers too. “It was acknowledged that I was the best in this kind of chess,” wrote Capablanca in his peculiar style - similar to his chess, which was at the same time straightforward, pellucid, and utterly immodest. Capablanca swiftly proved himself superior in the other kind of chess as well. In the first round he gave Bernstein a fresh humiliation and, although he lost his game to Rubinstein, won the tournament without too much difficulty.

The tournament was one of the first attempts to create a genuine super-tournament, with only top masters and without the inclusion of local players (hence the fierce pre-tournament opposition to Capablanca). "The conditions of the tournament made it the best that could be had," writes Capablanca, but it was a bit of a drawfest - the perennial problem of super-grandmaster tournaments. Schlechter led the way with 11 draws out of 14 games, while Rubinsten and Maróczy were right behind him with ten draws apiece. Capablanca won while drawing seven of his games.

Analyzing the rest of the crosstable, it had become clear that the top masters of the older generation were losing ground. Janowski, Tarrasch, Marshall, Schlechter had become middle-of-the-packers. Maróczy was attempting an unsatisfactory comeback and finished third-from-last. The greatest surprise for me is the very weak result of Oldrich Duras. Looking at Duras’ games in the late '00s, he seemed superhuman - with an ability to outplay anyone from virtually any position. But a pair of tournaments in the early 1910s revealed Duras’ limits - either he was (like other mosquito players like Mecking and Nakamura) just not able to pull off his usual tricks against the very best in the world or by the early 1910s he had lost some confidence and focus.

Nimzowitsch’s hypermodern tendencies were becoming more pronounced. Although his cramped opening setups sometimes led to passive, nausea-inducing positions, he also had some notable victories nullifying an opponent’s spatial advantage and gradually asphyxiating the opponent’s position. The great annotation controversy starts from this tournament. Tarrasch actually wrote some very mild, flattering comments about Nimzowitsch - he described him for instance as "one of the most talented players from the youngest master generation" - but he took issue with Nimzowitsch's style, wrote of his opening play, "He alone has a preference for strange, bizarre, even hideous moves in the opening from which he has been lucky from this time," and these comments resulted, ultimately, in sundering the chess world, ending the 'classical era,' and permanently diminishing Tarrasch's reputation. There is almost nothing so funny in the history of chess as Nimzowitsch's Herzogian annotations and he is very much in form here, protesting bitterly against Tarrasch. "Ridicule can do much, embitter the lives of young talents for instance," he wrote, responding to Tarrasch, "but one thing it cannot do is to put a permanent halt to the breakthrough of new and powerful ideas!" 

Vidmar was the other sensation of the tournament, apart from Capablanca, taking shared second in his convincing, understated way. He seemed to have taken up the torch from Maróczy as the greatest student of the game - always efficient, concentrated, equally attentive to all phases of the game, and never wasting a move.

Rubinstein, a pre-tournament favorite, was the only player to finish with an undefeated score. Later on in his career, the question with him would be about his ability to control his nerves in high-stress settings, but San Sebastian is a good indication of what a tough competitor he could be, patiently converting advantages against wily opponents.

Sources: My main sources on San Sebastian are Skoldager and Nielsen's Aron Nimzowitsch: The Road To Chess Mastery and Jose Capablanca's My Chess Career. Lasker's comments can be found here.