THE ATTRACTIVENESS OF CHANCE.
SOME wise person, writing in the Times the other day with reference to a controversy on billiards, suggested that the game would be much improved by making the pockets fewer or more difficult, and so eliminating as much as possible the chance which forma so important a factor in the play of amateurs and novices. And he based the merit of this reform upon the supposition that games, in general, became more amusing in proportion to the smaller margin of chance that they offered to the players. If he had said that the less chance entered into a game, the better it was worth playing,. we should have had nothing to say. That, of course, is a mere matter of opinion ; and there are many people who honestly think that games are worth nothing unless they afford an exercise for mental or physical powers, and who look upon them as trials of skill, and not as amusing diversions. But to say that the less a game is subject to chance, the more amusing it is, is to say what is directly opposed to fact ; or at least to have a very curious conception of what the word " amusing " means to the great majority of those who use it. People who seek in games of any kind either excitement or a. mild diversion to occupy their minds, depend for that excite- ment or diversion precisely upon that element of chance which this billiard-player would like to see abolished. To their minds,. the best games are not those that ensure the victory of the best player, but those that give a chance to any one to win, at the same time that they are able to help themselves by their own skill. Such a game offers a two-fold pleasure : the trial of skill against adversaries, and the gambling excitement of being favoured, or the reverse, by blind chance. The great attraction of whist is the nice proportion in which it contains both these elements. Luck and skill together must win. Luck and skill against each other are only evenly matched when the former is of a most moderate kind, for against really good hands even the best player has no chance. With regard to whist, one can soon test the truth of the proposition that the less there is of chance the more amusement there is in a game. It would be easy to eliminate one-half of the chance of whist by not counting honours. Who is there who prefers whist with- out honours ? Not even Sarah Battle, with all her respect for the " rigour of the game," would have cared to sit down to that unexciting contest night after night. In cards, games are more popular with the multitude as they contain a greater e' ement of chance and require less forethought and skill. It may
be a sign of the decadence of human nature that such should be the case, but with that we are not concerned ; it is the fact, and therefore we argue from that fact, that the world finds its amusement more in the caprice of luck than in the trial of its own skill. The majority of people prefer to play games in which the margin of good or bad fortune is the widest. They prefer whist with honours to whist without. In cards it is, of course, impossible to eliminate chance altogether ; but were it possible to invent a game of pure skill, we doubt whether it would find many players. The ordinary card-player would as lief play "beggar-my-neighbour," which is a game of pure chance, and, therefore, to his mind equally stupid. For though his gambling propensity—if we must call it so—seeks first for the -excitement of uncertain fortune, he requires also some oppor- tunity of assisting himself and fighting for his own hand ; an opportunity which he finds even in such games as " poker," or the much-abused " baccarat."
Of course, some one will quote chess as a game of pure skill, in which the element of chance does not enter at all. We should like to know how good a player a man must be before he can truly say that be never owes a victory or a defeat at chess to good or ill-luck. Chess, as played by beginners, is far more often decided by chance than not. As played even by fairly good players, it is not always a game which is entirely controlled by their contending skill. A more than average player must often confess to himself that the result of a move was purely accidental, and that the very step which he regretted, the moment that it became irrevocable, was the step which ultimately opened the way to success. No doubt, among such chess-players as Messrs. Blackburne, Steinitz, and others, this element of chance is reduced to the minimum ; but even in their game it must still exist to a certain extent. A player who is said to play a brilliant game must often appeal to blind fortune in making some of the moves which earn him the title. For from all accounts there are among even the best chess-players two -different classes—the brilliant player and the machine-like player; that is to say, the player who sometimes goes astray from his rule and theory, and the player who never deviates from them ; and what advantage can the former ever hope to gain over the latter except it be with the aid of chance ? Even more strictly scientific than chess is the game of draughts. Between skilful players of draughts it seems impossible for there to be any room for the intervention of fortune. But, then, draughts, with all due deference to its players, is not a very amusing game; and they who seek amusement will probably reverse the board, and, with the cheerful rattle of dice, embark upon the chances of backgammon. Even in games of manual skill, it is the lurking element of chance which adds to them no unimportant attraction. The " glorious uncertainty of cricket" is not an empty phrase ; were it not for that uncertainty, a cricket-match would lose mach of its interest, not only for the spectators, but for the players, too. And in cricket, tennis, and in other games, as in chess, there is also the distinction between the brilliant and the cautious player, the player who hazards the most and the player who hazards the least ; the one who sometimes is willing to de- pend on chance, and the one who is not. Now, there is no doubt which of these two the world most admires, and would most willingly emulate. Curiously enough, the same world that welcomes the element of chance in games of science and skill is always anxious to introduce some ele- ment of science into its diversions with pure chance. When it actually plays with fortune as an antagonist, it gets its keenest enjoyment from its efforts to load the dice. We do not suppose that the gambler exists who does not secretly cherish the fond idea that he can cheat fortune. If betting upon horse-races were a matter of absolute uncertainty, the bookmaker's occupation would be gone, and the interest that we now display in betting—we mean to say in the improve- ment of our breed of horses—would speedily diminish. In this case, we try to cheat fortune with the science of superior information, and it must be confessed that the amusement allows a large margin for the operation of that science, and that the person who possesses it wins. The "turf "is a board upon which the game of pure chance is only played by fools. But, to take the roulette-table for an example. Here a man may really be said to pit himself against fortune, and to depend absolutely upon blind chance for his loss or victory and his amusement. And yet no gambler, however inveterate his practice, finds that the charm of the game for him lies in regarding it as one of pure and undiluted chance. His most poignant interest really consists in the unconquerable hope that he can cheat and outwit fortune itself. To which end he applies himself to the construction of " martingales," and other infallible systems based upon the calculation of unaccountable chances. Or, if his wit is unequal to so severe an exercise, he will try to summon an unknown force to his aid by certain superstitious rites. Even those players whose common-sense refuses to believe in the efficacy of either of these means, are not entirely free from the idea that one can play well or badly against chance ; and they speak scorn- fully of the weakling who does not know when " to back his luck," or who throws good money after bad when the luck is against him. Still, it is obvious that this tendency to cir- cumvent chance by science does not imply a wish to eliminate chance altogether.
We are hardly likely to wish that the games we play for our amusement should be carefully purged of chance, when it forms so important a part of the game of life itself. It is hard to imagine the man who would wish that his life should be absolutely freed from any element of chance; that he might never be the sport of either evil or good fortune. Most men, we fancy, would far rather run the risk of bad luck than relinquish the possibility of good. We may call it a gambling instinct if we like, but it is an instinct that is born in the human race, and one, moreover, that displays itself in almost all its transactions. The goddess of Chance may be blind, but, like the god of Love, she is none the less attractive to mankind on that account. We owe all our spirit of adventure and half of our enterprise to her cult. We also owe to her fascinations many of our misfortunes. Mr. Gladstone did well when he came before the country empty-banded, and appealed to the blind faith of the electorate in what he would give them ; it was the gambling instinct that answered him at the polls, and returned him with a majority. The country was well off before, but it could not resist the temptation of shutting its eyes, opening its month, and tasting what Mr. Gladstone pat there. As for the Irishmen themselves, who are so ready to exchange a condition of orderly comfort for the fortunes of Donnybrook Fair, chance is the very savour of their lives. " What are ye waiting for ? " shouted the guard of a train between Kingstown and Dublin to the engine- driver. " For the express." " Agh, man, go on and chanst it ! " We have no doubt that the injunction found a respon- sive echo in the breasts of all the Irish passengers. And, indeed, if chance plays no inconsiderable part in a nation's policy, it plays no less a part in the life of the individual. How many steps do we take that are dictated by prudence, and how many at the promptings of chance P Is not matri- mony itself a lottery, and the happiness of our marriage a matter of luck ? • At least, the Daily Telegraph tells us so, and it has talked quite long enough on the subject to come to a conclusion. Even in that matter the most devout lover would possibly be loth to eliminate the element of chance altogether, for there is always a pleasing uncertainty in the phrase, " For better or for worse."
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