occupation of Paris by the Allies in 1814 was a Mr. Fox, a popular
Secretary of the British Embassy, who was notorious for his easy-going
disposition. Though usually most unfortunate at play, he once had an
extraordinary run of luck, when having taken up the dice-box, he threw
eleven successful throws, broke the bank, and took home some sixty
thousand francs as winnings. All of this he spent in buying presents
for ladies, which he declared was the only way to prevent the rascals
at the Salon from getting back their money.
At the same gambling-place Lord Thanet lost enormous sums, whilst a
young Irishman, Mr. Gough by name, was totally ruined there, and in
consequence blew out his brains.
On the green cloth of the Salon des Étrangers also melted away the
fortune of Sir Francis Vincent, who, having dissipated the whole of
a fine property at play, entirely disappeared from the gay world.
Frascati's--a more amusing resort--was in its palmy days regularly
haunted by an aged gentleman well dowered with means, who was daily
carried by his servant to the rouge-et-noir table. There he sat playing
from three o'clock until five, at which hour, precisely, the servant
returned and carried him (for he had entirely lost the use of his legs)
back to his carriage. He was a man of large fortune, and the stakes he
played were not considerable; yet he was elated by every lucky coup,
and at every reverse he gnashed his teeth and struck the table in rage.
No sooner, however, had the moment for his departure arrived, than he
regained his equanimity, utterly regardless as to whether he had been a
winner, or a loser, by the proceedings. "I have outlived all modes of
excitement," said he, "save that of gaming: it is that that takes the
fastest hold on the mind and retains it the longest; my blood, but for
this occasional agitation, would stagnate in my veins--I should die."
Ten fêtes were given during the year at Frascati's, the sole
gaming-place to which, after 1818, women were allowed admittance.
The disinclination of the Parisian authorities to throw open the public
gaming-rooms to women was founded upon very substantial grounds, for
at the beginning of the nineteenth century, great scandals had arisen
owing to ladies becoming desperate after unsuccessful play. In 1804,
for instance, a young and beautiful Hanoverian Countess, who had lost
50,000 livres, planned and executed the robbery of a fine coronet of
emeralds, which she contrived to purloin at a ball given by the owner,
Madame Demidoff. The youth, beauty, and high rank of the thief caused a
great agitation in favour of her being pardoned, but Napoleon, who was
never moved by mere sentimental considerations, refused to annul the
sentence which had been passed upon her.
When they take to gambling, Frenchwomen become passionate devotees of
play, as may be verified at any casino in France when baccarat and
petits chevaux are in full swing. Very often they become so fascinated
by the spirit of speculation that they can think of nothing else. An
instance of this was the lady who, confessing to her priest, owned she
was desperately fond of gambling.
The confessor, after pointing out the evils of such a passion,
advanced several arguments against play, amongst which a principal one
was the great loss of time which it must inevitably occasion.
"Ah," said the lady, "that's just what vexes me--so much time lost in
shuffling the cards!"
Besides the licensed gaming-houses there were at this time a number of
"maisons de bouillotte," which, though unlicensed, were more or less
under the surveillance of the police. Here a good deal of play went on
practically unchecked, an added attraction being the female society of
no very rigorous morality which frequented such resorts. The favourite
game played in these bouillottes was not the "bouillotte" from which
they took their name, but écarté, in some ways a modification of the
old French game of "la triomphe." Écarté in its present form would seem
to have been first played in the early part of the nineteenth century
in Paris, whence it made its way to England about 1820.
Whilst such places, together with Frascati's and the Salon des
Étrangers, were the resort of the fashionable world, humbler gamblers
betook themselves to half a dozen houses which were frequented by all
classes of the population, the most popular being Nos. 9, 129, and
113 in the Palais Royal. Play began at twelve in the morning, except
on Sundays and holidays, when one was the hour fixed; on certain
Saints' Days and at Christmas all the gambling houses were compelled
by law to close at midnight, except the Salon des Étrangers and No. 9
in the Palais Royal, two of those curious exceptions for which the
authorities in France have always had (and still have) a liking, being
made in their favour.
On January 21, the day on which the unfortunate Louis XVI. had been
guillotined, a special regulation forbade any play at all. In 1819,
however, no notice was taken of this, which led to a great outcry; and
the following year the gambling-houses did shut their doors on the day
in question, but the keepers demanded a rebate on the sum paid to the
Government as compensation for their loss of profits.
The evil days of the Palais Royal as a pleasure-resort began about
the time of the Revolution of 1830, when it became evident that a
determined effort was going to be made to alter the character of the
place entirely. In 1831, stringent measures were adopted with regard to
the class of persons allowed to frequent the galleries, the amusements
permitted being exposed to a rigorous censorship, whilst every effort
was made to efface the traditions of light-hearted frivolity and
licence which had hung about the old place since the days of the
Revolution.
Numbers of the tradesmen who owned shops in the Palais Royal had called
for these measures. They were imbued with the somewhat pharisaical
respectability which is so often the appanage of their class, and
entertained the totally fallacious idea that the purification of
the gardens would cause a greater number of visitors from abroad to
frequent and make purchases at their shops. It soon became evident
that the fate of the gaming-tables was sealed, a great outcry being
raised against the toleration of what was characterised as a public
scandal, and was denounced as such in the Press. English opinion
particularly was said to be bitterly hostile to the tables, and the
deluded tradesmen of Paris entertained an idea that the doubtful
pleasures of the Palais Royal prevented much foreign money from pouring
into their pockets.
Finally in 1836, chiefly owing to the efforts of a Mr. Delessert, it
was decided that the gaming-houses of Paris should be closed two years
from that date, and on the 1st of January 1838 the Palais Royal ceased
to offer any attractions appealing to the gambler.
At the time when the agitation for the suppression of public gaming
in Paris was going on, a good deal of abuse was heaped upon the
proprietors of the tables, who were denounced as vampires sucking the
blood of the poor. One of them, M. Borsant by name, was exempted from
censure, being noted for many favourable traits not often to be met
with in those drawing their revenue from gaming. This gentleman once
actually restored 17,000 francs lost by a young man to his astonished
parents. The actual date of the cessation of public play in Paris was
Sunday, December 31, 1837. So numerous had the visitors been during the
last few weeks preceding this date, that an additional police force
had been found necessary for the maintenance of order. In consequence
of the excitement, the manufacturers and tradesmen of Paris had come
to a general agreement not to pay their workmen's wages before twelve
o'clock on Sunday night, lest the money might be carried to swell the
last day's receipts of the great joint-stock company to which all the
Parisian gaming-houses belonged.
On the last evening, which was a Sunday, the rooms at Frascati's were
so thronged that there was scarcely a possibility of stirring in them.
The tables were overladen with money. At ten o'clock such was the crowd
inside that it was found necessary to shut the street doors.
Placards stuck up in all the rooms warned the gamblers that the play
would not be suffered to extend a single minute beyond midnight, which
was the hour specified by the law. The Salon or Cercle des Étrangers,
still the most fashionable of the gambling-houses, which usually was
opened only at eleven at night and closed at three or four in the
morning, opened on Sunday evening at nine o'clock, a notification to
such effect having been sent round to the habitual frequenters of
the place. On Saturday and Sunday all the gambling-houses of Paris,
especially No. 154 of the Palais Royal and Frascati's, were immensely
crowded. Several dramatic incidents occurred. A workman destroyed
himself on quitting No. 113, and two young men who had lost large sums
disappeared entirely.
In accordance with the edict previously announced, the game ceased
exactly at midnight. The gambling during the last days of the tables
had been very high, and crowds flocked to witness the end. Disturbances
were anticipated, and the municipal guards were in consequence posted
in considerable force about the various rooms. At Frascati's an immense
crowd of visitors assembled, but they dispersed peaceably, after
encountering the shouts and hisses of the mob that had collected in the
Rue de Richelieu outside to witness their final exit from that historic
haunt of pleasure. A dramatic incident occurred, one unhappy wretch
shooting himself as the doors closed for ever. He had lost heavily, and
was in despair at the prospect of being unable to retrieve his losses.
In 1838 a case came on for trial before the Court of Assizes, Paris,
which excited a good deal of interest. The prisoner, a clerk to a
merchant, had gambled on several occasions, and had lost at Frascati's
and the gaming-houses licensed by Government upwards of 100,000 francs,
the property of his employer. In the course of the trial, Benazet, the
lessee of these establishments, stated that in the course of a year
there was thrown on the tables of the gaming-houses comprised in his
licence 800,000,000 francs (£32,000,000): that, independently of the
annual sum paid to Government for the licence (which was 6,000,000
francs or £240,000), the clear profit on the tables during the last
year of their life, 1837, was no less a sum than 1,900,000 francs
(£76,000), but that three-fourths of this sum was paid over to the
city of Paris; the other fourth (£19,000) was his proportion of the
gain. M. Benazet eventually declared that he would refund his part
of the sum lost by the prosecutor's clerk if the city of Paris would
equally pay back the three-fourths of it which had passed to its
credit. The average number of gamblers admitted to those houses had
been three thousand a day, another thousand having been denied entrance.
From the moment that the tables were suppressed, the prosperity of
the shops in the former Palace of Cardinal Mazarin began to wane. As
the years rolled on, visitors became fewer and fewer, till the place
assumed the forlorn aspect which it wears to-day, when even the tourist
scarcely deigns to visit its deserted galleries.
At the time of the Revolution there had been a number of first-class
restaurants in the Palais Royal. The café kept by Méot, for instance,
enjoyed a great reputation for its cellar. Here could be procured
twenty-two sorts of red wine, twenty-seven of white, and sixteen
different kinds of liqueurs, most of which had come from the cellars
of the _noblesse_. Méot's was essentially a Royalist restaurant,
and contained little rooms where aristocratic clients could dine in
luxurious privacy.
Beauvilliers, once cook to the Prince de Condé, also kept a restaurant
much frequented by adherents of the old régime, and here Rivarol
Champcenetz and others used, while dining, to compose articles for the
famous Royalist sheet--_Les Actes des Apôtres_.
A well-situated restaurant was Véry's, which paid no less than 196,275
livres a year as rent for No. 83. Véry's was founded in 1790: here it
was that Danton gave dinners to his friends, and pointed out to them
"that their turn had come to taste the delights of life; and enjoy the
sumptuous mansions, exquisite dishes, rare fabrics, and beautiful women
which were the legitimate spoils of the victors." This restaurant was
much frequented by foreigners, with whom it had a great reputation;
every Englishman of means who visited Paris made a point of dining
there once or twice.
At No. 73 was the restaurant Venua, where the Girondins used to
dine at ten francs a head. Robespierre also used to frequent its
gaily-decorated saloons, and men alive in the middle of the last
century well remembered the sinister profile and sky-blue coat of the
"sea-green incorruptible" reflected in the mirrors which adorned this
café.
A badly-lit, ill-appointed restaurant was that kept by Fevrier;
nevertheless, its democratic lack of luxury attracted austere patriots.
Lepelletier de St. Fargeau, dining here on the 20th of January 1793, at
five o'clock in the afternoon, was accosted by a young man who stabbed
him to death as one who had voted for the execution of Louis XVI.
[Illustration: VERY'S IN 1825.]
As Paris gradually recovered from the fever of the Revolution, many
other first-class restaurants were established in the Palais Royal,
several of which survived up to our own time.
All of these have now long disappeared from the spot which was once a
shrine for the gastronomers of Europe. To-day the very name of Véfour
is forgotten. Les Trois Frères Provençaux, the Café Corazza, and other
resorts, once famous for their cuisine, have long ceased to make any
appeal to the modern gourmet, whilst even the less pretentious cafés,
which, in the early days of the third Republic, offered the passing
traveller a sumptuous dinner for two or three francs, have almost,
without exception, closed their doors.
From time to time schemes have been mooted which were to galvanise the
Palais Royal into some semblance of life; the latest of these is a plan
to pierce a street, or rather a drive, right through it, by which means
the place would become a thoroughfare and regain its lost vitality.
Sad and mournful as the old gardens are to-day, it is not altogether
without the bounds of possibility that they will in the future once
again become the resort of the wealthy pleasure-seekers of the world.
The fine shops which formerly abounded beneath the colonnades are
memories of the past, all the great shopkeepers having migrated from
what has become a little city of the dead. A number of the shopkeepers
in the Palais Royal lived to regret bitterly the rigorous measures for
which they had once so vehemently called, and there is no doubt that
the unfortunate commercial results which followed, once it had ceased
to be a pleasure-resort, made a deep and lasting impression upon the
mind of the Parisian tradesman, who to-day thoroughly realises that
visitors to Paris are attracted by some amusement of a speculative kind.
The Parisian shop-keeper would probably welcome the revival of public
gaming-tables for he is a warm supporter of French racing, where the
betting is legalised and carried on by the State, well knowing the
commercial benefits which indirectly accrue to the city of Paris.
During the Second Empire, Doctor Louis Véron, ex-dealer in quack
medicines, ex-manager of the Grand Opéra, and ex-proprietor of the
_Constitutionnel_ newspaper, offered an enormous royalty to Government
for the privilege of establishing a gambling-house in Paris. The
Emperor Napoleon III., however, declined to consider the proposal.
At the present day, though no public tables exist, there are ample
facilities for play in Paris, and baccarat flourishes in many a Club to
which admission is not difficult. The great evil of the gaming-houses
of the Palais Royal was that they especially appealed to a class which
could not afford to lose their hard-earned money--the poor being lured
to ruin. Such a state of affairs is non-existent in modern Paris, where
gambling, as far as possible, is limited to those able to afford to
indulge in it.
A Frenchman cares little for Clubs without play, and many a _Cercle_
draws its principal support from the cagnotte at baccarat; this amounts
to about ten per cent on the sum put into the bank, which goes to the
highest bidder up to five hundred louis, when, if there are two or
three competitors, they draw lots for it. The percentage in question,
however, varies as the bank increases, and is not levied after a
certain amount of renewals.
In former years the management of some of these gambling-clubs was
somewhat lax, and occasionally undesirable characters entered the
rooms and passed themselves off as members. At a certain well-known
resort, which formerly flourished not far from the Place de l'Opéra,
high gambling was the order of the day just before dinner. One fine
afternoon there was as usual somewhat spirited bidding for the bank,
which was eventually secured for some four hundred louis by a very
distinguished-looking man whose face was new to the usual frequenters
of the place. The individual in question, taking the banker's seat,
the cards having been shuffled and cut, produced no money but merely
told the croupier opposite, "Il y a quatre cents louis en banque," upon
which that official, with all the dignity of his race, tapped a piece
of red cardboard and repeated, "Quatre cents louis à la carte."
The stakes were made and the cards dealt--neuf on the right, huit on
the left--both sides won. "Caissier," cried the banker to the official
who exchanged money for counters and vice versa at the desk, "donnez
dix mille francs." The result of this was, however, unsatisfactory,
for the caissier most politely explained that he had no authority to
advance money to members, and certainly not to members whom he did not
know. "Well," said the banker, "if that is the case I must go and get
my pocket-book from my coat; it will be the matter of an instant."
This optimistic forecast, however, was hardly justified by subsequent
events, for the banker never returned, and eventually the expectant
and anxious players became so enraged that the management of the Club
thought it best to pay them their winnings. The banker, it afterwards
transpired, had been a notorious sharper.
It was at a Club of the same sort, where the membership was rather
mixed, that a certain English nobleman, finding that his pocket-book,
containing several thousand francs, had been taken out of his coat
hanging in the hall, did not hesitate to tell the committee that it
must have been purloined either by the waiters or the members, and
received the reply, "We can answer for the _waiters_!"
Not very far from Paris, at the Casino of Enghein, much baccarat is
played, which has rendered the resort in question very popular, so much
so indeed that the criminals known as "apaches" have begun to haunt the
road from Paris. Not very long ago a band of these pests contrived to
stop a motor, one of them lying down in the road in front of it, and
the rest attempting to rob the occupants when the car was pulled up.
The miscreants were on the point of wrenching a valuable pearl necklace
from a lady's neck when another car arrived and put the assailants to
flight.
About a couple of years ago roulette was played--practically without
let or hindrance--at St. Germain. No wheel, however, was employed,
its place being supplied by a dial on which by an ingenious device
the winning number and colour appeared on a croupier firing a sort of
rifle. The result was the same as at ordinary roulette, and just as in
the old-fashioned form of the game most people lost their money. This
resort, it should be added, was eventually closed by the authorities,
who were aroused by the great increase of gaming in Paris owing to the
introduction of baccarat with one tableau. This will be dealt with at
the end of the next chapter.
IX
Public gaming in Germany--Aix-la-Chapelle--An Italian gambler--The
King of Prussia's generosity--Baden-Baden--M. de la Charme--A
dishonest croupier--Wiesbaden--An eccentric Countess--Closing
of the tables in 1873--Last scenes--Arrival of M. Blanc at
Homburg--His attempt to defeat his own tables--Anecdotes of
Garcia--His miserable end--A Spanish gambler at Ems--Roulette at
Geneva and in Heligoland--Gambling at Ostend--Baccarat at French
watering-places--"La Faucheuse" forbidden in France.
In former times a great deal of public gaming was carried on at
Aix-la-Chapelle, where the alluring rattle of the dice-box was to be
heard from morning till night. Here there were fixed hours for play,
one bank opening as another shut--biribi, hazard, faro, and vingt-et-un
being the favourite games. The chief banker paid a thousand louis per
annum for his licence during the season; and it was said that his
profit in general exceeded four thousand, and sometimes double that
sum. There were two gaming-houses a mile or two from the town, and
each gambling-house, each room, nay, each part of a room, had its
fashionable hours. From the commencement of play to the conclusion
(that is, from ten in the morning to two or three the next morning),
only two hours were allotted for meals.
In 1792 a little Italian created a considerable sensation at this
gaming-resort, to which he had come as an adventurer, with a few louis
d'or in his pocket, determined to try the favour of fortune. His first
attempt was at hazard, where he played crown stakes, which, as fortune
smiled on him, were increased to half a guinea, guinea, and so on to
bank-notes. In the space of twenty-four hours he had stripped the bank
of upwards of four thousand pounds; and the next morning, resuming his
operations, broke the bank entirely, his winnings amounting to more
than nine thousand pounds. One would have imagined that a poor needy
adventurer, who most probably had never seen a twentieth part of such a
sum before, would at once have pocketed his winnings and returned (in
his own mind a prince) to his native country. Content, however, was a
stranger to his mind, and the accession of one sum only brought with it
anxiety for a greater. He continued to be successful; and for several
days the bankers ceased to play, so completely had he reduced them
to their last stake. When a fresh supply of cash did at last arrive
the little adventurer recommenced operations--for a few hours with
his usual success. The luck, however, at last changed, and from being
the possessor of ten thousand pounds he left the bank reduced to his
very last louis. He next proceeded to negotiate a loan of about thirty
pounds, and returned to the tables, much to the discomfort of the
bankers, who, from the success that attended his play, had conceived no
small dread of him. His usual run of good luck attended him, and from
being master of only thirty pounds, he left the table with more than
ten thousand. He remembered a resolution he had formed in his fit of
poverty, went to an inn, ordered a carriage, and packed up his baggage.
In the interim, however, one of the directors of the bank, learning
his intention, set off to interview him, resolved to use all the
rhetoric he was master of to persuade him to relinquish his design. His
arguments were too specious not to destroy the resolution of the poor
Italian, whose fortitude vanished in a moment, and instead of making
for his native country he returned to the gaming-table, where, in a
very few hours, he was stripped of every _soldo_ he had in the world,
and left to reflect on the diversity of fortune which he had known in
the space of so short a time. The moment he got back to his lodgings he
sold the greater part of his clothes, and by this means raised a few
louis which he took to his old haunts, where he now cut a sorry figure.
[Illustration: ROULETTE IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.]