United States -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Villages -- Fiction
"You haven't the secret yet," said my mentor, who watched me as I won
for the first time, and was moved to warn me by my unconcealed pride in
this achievement. "After you've played it a few years, you'll learn that
the value of it lies chiefly in losing. You'll try like the devil to
win, of course, but you'll learn not to wish for it. To win is nothing
but an endless piling up of the right cards, beginning with the ace and
ending with the king, and it only means more shuffling for next time.
But every time you lose you will learn things about everything."
It was even as he said,--it took me years to learn this true merit of
the game; and still, as he had said, I learned much from it of life.
There is a fine moment at the last shuffling of the cards, a moment when
free will and fatalism are indistinguishably merged.
I am ready to lay down eight cards in a horizontal row off my double
deck. Who will say that the precise number of shuffles I have given to
it was preordained?
"I do," exclaimed an obliging fatalist. "The sequence of every one of
those cards was determined when we were yet star-dust."
I bring confusion to him by performing half a dozen other shuffles. I am
thus far the master of my unborn game--another last shuffle to prove it,
though I shuffle clumsily enough.
I glance disdainfully at the fatalist whom I have refuted, and prepare
again to lay down the first row of cards. But the fellow comes back
with, "Those last shuffles were also determined, as was this
challenge--"
"Very well!" and I prepare for still another rearrangement. But here I
reflect that this could be endless and not at all interesting.
I dismiss the fatalist as a quibbler and play on. Now there is no
dispute, unless there be other quibblers. Fixed is the order in which
the cards shall fall, eight at a time. There is pure fatalism. But in
the movings after each eight are dealt, I shall consciously choose and
judge, which is pure free will--or an imitation of it sufficiently
colorable to satisfy any, but quibblers. There, for me, is the fatalism
of body, the free will of soul. Of these I learn when I play the game.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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