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.

A considerable sensation was once caused at the principal faro-table at Aix-la-Chapelle by the success of a plainly-dressed stranger, who, after playing in modest stakes for some time, suddenly challenged the bank for the whole of its capital, carelessly tossing his pocket-book to the banker, that the latter might not question his ability to pay in case he lost. The banker, surprised at the boldness of the adventurer, and no less so at his ordinary appearance, at first hesitated to accept the challenge; but on opening the book and seeing bills to a prodigious amount, and on the stranger sternly and repeatedly insisting on his complying with the laws of the game, with much reluctance he shuffled the cards in preparation for the great event. Excitement ran high, and all eyes were soon attentively riveted upon the trembling hands of the affrighted banker, who, while the gambler sat unruffled and unconcerned, turned up the card which decided his own ruin and the other's success.

The bank was broken, and the triumphant stranger, with perfect coolness and serenity of features, turned to a person who stood at his elbow, to whom he gave orders to take charge of the money. "Heavens," exclaimed an infirm old officer in the Austrian service, who had sat next the winner at the table, "if I had the twentieth part of your success this night I should be the happiest man in the universe." "If thou wouldst be this happy man," replied the stranger briskly, "then thou shalt have it"; and, without waiting for a reply, disappeared from the room. Some little time afterwards the entrance of a servant astonished the company with the extraordinary generosity of the stranger as with his peculiar good fortune, by presenting the Austrian officer with the twentieth part of the faro bank. "Take this, sir," said the servant, "my master requires no answer"; and he suddenly left him without exchanging another word.

The next morning all Aix-la-Chapelle was agog with the news that the lucky and generous stranger was no less a personage than the King of Prussia.

In more recent times Aix-la-Chapelle appeared only destined to end its gambling days as a trap for incautious travellers, many of whom, in consequence, never saw the Rhine, and returned to England with very misty ideas about Germany.

About 1840 several other German pleasure-resorts began to include gambling amongst the attractions offered to visitors. After the closing of the Parisian gaming-houses the proprietors, who found the business much too profitable to be tamely resigned, turned their gaze beyond the Rhine, where a fair field for their exertions in the pursuit of a livelihood presented itself. After many weary negotiations with the several governments, a syndicate of bankers, with M. Chabert at their head, simultaneously opened their establishments at Baden-Baden, Wiesbaden, and Ems. It was a very hard contest between the Regents and the Frenchmen before the terms were finally settled, and the latter expended much money and many promises in getting a footing. But they eventually succeeded, and a few years saw their efforts richly rewarded. As they had a monopoly, they could do pretty much as they pleased, and made very stringent and profitable regulations relative to the _refait_ and other methods of gaining a pull. On the retirement of M. Chabert with an immense fortune, the company was dissolved, and M. Benazet became ostensibly sole proprietor of the rooms at Baden-Baden. The terms to which he had to subscribe were sufficient to frighten any one less enterprising than the general of an army of croupiers; he was compelled to expend 150,000 florins in decorating the rooms and embellishing the walks round the town; and an annual sum of 50,000 florins was furthermore demanded for permission to keep the establishment open for six months in the year.

At Baden-Baden a well-known figure for many years was the old ex-Elector of Hesse, who made his money by selling his soldiers to England at so much a head, like cattle, during the American War. The Prince in question was easily to be recognised by the gold-headed and coroneted rake he always had in his hand. A constant player, he was a most profitable customer to the bank. Eventually, however, the superior attractions of Homburg led him away. The Revolution of 1848 frightened or angered him to death.

At Baden the bank at roulette had two zeroes, an enormous advantage, which rendered the certainty of success in the long run, which the bank must of course possess, almost ridiculously easy. Nauheim, on the other hand, was modestly content to claim only a quarter of the _refait_ at trente-et-quarante, a good deal less than that taken by the present Monte Carlo tables. The keen competition of its rivals, Wiesbaden and Homburg, was the cause of this generosity.

In the late 'sixties a gaming hero, M. Edgar de la Charme, created a great sensation at Baden, where, for a number of days together, he never left the gaming-room without carrying off a profit which usually did not fall far short of a thousand pounds in English money.

At the end of several days of almost unparalleled good fortune, M. de la Charme, reflecting that there must be an end even to the greatest run of luck, packed his portmanteau, paid his bill, and strolled down to the railway station, accompanied by some of his friends. There, however, he found the wicket closed, there being still three-quarter's of an hour before the departure of the train. "Well," he exclaimed, "I will go and play my parting game," and, taking a carriage, drove back to the Kursaal, though his friends made every effort to prevent him. Arrived at the Casino, he sat down at the trente-et-quarante, where in twenty minutes he broke the bank again. He then left, but, while getting into his cab, caught sight of the inspector of the tables walking to and fro under the arcades, and said to him in a tone of exquisite politeness, "I could not think of going away without leaving you my P.P.C."

The society at Baden was said to be as mixed as that frequenting the Paris boulevards. There was indeed a good deal of Parisian Bohemianism about this charming spot, which, since the closing of the tables, has been forced to rely upon its proximity to the Black Forest and other natural attractions--poor substitutes to the gambler for the whirl of the roulette wheel and the chanting of the croupier at trente-et-quarante.

The rooms which re-echoed to these exciting, if none too reputable sounds, to-day seem somehow to present a rather sad and almost wistful appearance. Surely, "if aught inanimate e'er grieves," the Kurhaus must sigh for the vanished days of the Second Empire, and for the gay, careless folk who thronged its halls, now so decorous and staid.

Old gamblers used to say that the croupiers at Baden were recruited from the same families who had held the rake in the gambling-rooms of the Palais Royal. Certain veterans were even pointed out as being survivors of the great days of Frascati's and the Salon.

Baden made no pretence to any particular exclusiveness. Here all men and women were equal, people sitting down cheek by jowl with any one at trente-et-quarante or roulette, a practice not much in favour at aristocratic Ems, where the fashionable lounger was more given to tossing down his stake carelessly as he or she strolled through the rooms.

Though the croupiers at Baden-Baden were generally above suspicion, the bank was swindled by its employés on more than one occasion. A notable instance was that of an official who was discovered to have carried on a system of plunder for a long time with security. He used to slip a louis d'or into his snuff-box whenever it came to his turn to preside over the money department; he was found out by another employé asking him casually for a pinch of snuff, and seeing the money gleam in the gaslight.

On the whole the croupiers at Baden were admirable, sometimes preserving their self-control under the most trying circumstances. On one occasion when a young Englishman, of high repute and bearing an honourable name, vented his rage at losing by breaking a rake over the head of the croupier, the latter merely turned round and beckoned to the attendant gendarme to remove his assailant and the pieces of the rake, and then went on with his parrot-like "_rouge gagne, couleur perd_."

The croupiers in general seemed to unite the stoicism of the American Indian with the politeness of the Frenchman of the _ancien régime_. Impassive under all circumstances they seemed to fear neither God nor man; for when a shock of the earthquake of 1847 was felt at Wiesbaden, though all the company fled in terror, they remained grimly at their posts, preferring to go down to their patron saints with their rouleaux, as an evidence of their fidelity to their employer. It is not unlikely that they regarded the earthquake as a preconcerted scheme to rob the bank!

The public buildings of Wiesbaden were charming, especially the Kursaal, with its open "Platz," its colonnades and magnificent ball-room, its "salons de jeu," reading-rooms, restaurant, and charming gardens behind. Here were lakes, fountains, running streams, which made it as pretty a place as any of its kind on the banks of the Rhine.

Towards the last days of the gambling at Wiesbaden the majority of the players belonged to the middle and lower middle classes, leavened by a very few celebrities and persons of genuine distinction. The general run of visitors, indeed, was by no means remarkable for birth, wealth, or respectability, and it used at that time to be said that all the aged, broken-down courtesans of Paris, Vienna, and Berlin had agreed to make Wiesbaden their autumn rendezvous.

One of the well-known eccentric notabilities of Wiesbaden at that time was a certain Countess--an aged patrician of immense fortune, whose very existence seemed bound up with that of the tables. She used daily to be wheeled to her place in the "temple of chance," where she usually played for eight or nine hours with wonderful spirit and perseverance. A suite of eight domestics were in attendance upon her, and when she won, which was not often, she invariably presented each member of her retinue with--twopence! This was done, she would naively declare, "not from a feeling of generosity, but in order to propitiate Fortune." On the other hand, when she lost, none of them, save the man who wheeled her home and who received a donation of six kreuzers, got anything at all but hard words. Unlike her contemporary, a once lovely Russian Ambassadress, she did not curse the croupiers loudly for her bad luck, but, being very far advanced in years and of a tender disposition, would shed tears over her misfortunes, resting her chin on the edge of the table. This old lady was very intimate with one or two antediluvian diplomatists and warriors, whom she used to entertain with constant lamentations over her fatal passion for play, interspersed with bits of moss-grown scandal, disinterred from the social ruins of a bygone age. Radetzky, Paul Eszterhazy, Wrangel, and Blücher had been friends of her youth; and, to judge from her appearance, no one would have been surprised to hear that she had attended the Jeu du Roi in the galleries of Versailles, or played whist with Maria Theresa.

Wiesbaden boasted a financier from Amsterdam, who usually played on credit--that is to say, he pocketed his winnings, but, if he lost, borrowed money of the banker, squaring his account, which was generally a heavy one, at the end of the week. Another well-known character was an English baronet, who always brought a lozenge-box with him. When this was filled with gold he would leave the rooms. He seldom had to remain long, for he possessed his own luck, and that of some one else into the bargain.

Wiesbaden, like the other German gaming-places, was made virtuous by compulsion rather than choice. When Nassau was annexed by the astute Bismarck, the law which abolished legal gambling affected this place as it did Homburg, Ems, and other Spas. It should, however, be added that its provisions showed a scrupulous regard for vested interests.

As the fateful 1st of January 1873--the day on which all public gaming throughout the German Empire was to cease--approached, there was considerable excitement, not only amongst the usual frequenters of the tables, but also amongst the general population of the place, who fully realised the financial benefits which had accrued to them through roulette and trente-et-quarante, the impending prohibition of which they deplored.

At midnight on the 31st December 1872, after a hundred years of existence, the Kursaal clock at Wiesbaden sounded the close of play. There was considerable disorder in the rooms on the last night, the place being converted into a bear-garden. During the last week the rooms got so enormously thronged that the administration found it necessary to admit only by tickets. 1872 was a splendid financial year, for, after paying all the enormous expenses (5000 florins a day), including the yearly tax of 200,000 florins to the Prussian Government, the shareholders received interest on their capital at the rate of 107 per cent per annum. A number of the eighty or ninety croupiers were retained by M. Blanc for service at Monaco, whilst the rest it is believed went into trade.

On the last night an immense throng gathered in the rooms, eagerly crowding round the tables. The play, however, was unusually dull, and on the green cloth, which had usually been liberally sprinkled with gold, only a few spare florins were to be seen. The croupiers did their best to dispel the depression which hung over the gamesters; and as the final moment approached, shouted louder and louder, adding to their usual formula, "Faites vos jeux, Messieurs," the words "le troisième dernier!"--the third last chance; "le deuxième dernier!"--the second last; and finally "le dernier!" which seemed to sound like a death-knell. Their appeals had little effect, the moment being of such solemnity as to stifle all emotion and paralyse every movement. Here and there some small stake was noiselessly placed on the table by some timid and unfamiliar hand, but the audacious spirit of the real gambler was for the moment lulled to rest, and no one seemed eager to try a last serious struggle with the goddess of chance. The closing of the gaming-tables was a veritable convulsion of nature as regards Wiesbaden. On the 1st of January 1873 there was universal confusion in hotel and lodging-house, and the streets were thronged with departing travellers and overladen porters, while the railway stations were blocked with eager applicants for tickets. With a haste bordering on indecency the old gambling-saloons were taken possession of by the municipal authorities, and stripped of their furniture; windows and doors being thrown open to the air, and the halls, formerly devoted to chance, handed over to a host of painters, white-washers, and scrubbers. The green tables, which had caused so many emotions, were thrown out, and cast into heaps, preliminary to being carted away as old furniture. The results to the town were disastrous. Many of the hotels fell into bankruptcy and were forced to close their windows--their doors they might have left open, for there were no guests to enter them.

The shopkeepers, more especially the jewellers, who generally were pawnbrokers too, and all dealers in articles of luxury, were also great losers by the change.

The joint-stock company, which had owned the tables, dissolved, after having divided a large amount of surplus. The shareholders had indeed no cause for complaint, yet one of the two directors took the dissolution so much to heart that he soon after drank himself to death.

A few days after the cessation of play hardly a gambler remained in the place.

One exception, however, there was, who for some years was pointed out as a rare specimen of an extinct race by the few officials of the rooms who had been retained as door-keepers and the like in the building from which all life had fled.

Still clad in the torn, somewhat shabby livery of more prosperous days when "Trinkgeld" was abundant, these men would describe to visitors how this Englishman, a man bearing an historic name, had created a sensation at the tables, where he had been notorious for his ill-luck. To all appearance entirely ruined, he had suddenly been left some twenty thousand pounds, which had soon followed the rest of his fortune into the coffers of the bank. Reduced to his last florin, fortune for a moment had seemed to relent, and he had left the rooms with about seven thousand pounds in his pocket. Having deposited this at his banker's, he had then declared his intention of never playing again--in less than a week the sum had been withdrawn and lost.

His friends, now believing him to be incorrigible, settled upon him a small allowance, which was paid quarterly, and with unfailing regularity found its way to the green cloth.

Seemingly stunned by the closing of the rooms, this Englishman lingered on for some years, mournfully marching about the spot which had engulfed his fortune, the loss of which, however, caused him less concern than being deprived of the means wherewith to gratify the passion that had dominated his life.

All the gambling companies had to pay large sums in return for the privileges which they enjoyed, but still they progressed most successfully till they were frightened from their propriety by Monsieur Blanc. This gentleman, after struggling against immense opposition on the part of the Frankfort merchants, who were naturally alarmed at the danger to which their _commis_ and cash-boxes would be exposed by the proximity of a gambling-table, obtained a concession from the Elector of Hesse to establish a bank at Homburg-von-der-Höhe. Play was soon in full swing, with the additional attractions of being open all the year round, and of having only a _trente-et-un après_ (known as the _refait_) for the players to contend against. Some time after, Wilhelmsbad was opened as a rival to Homburg, with no _après_ at all; and the above mentioned, with the addition of Ems, Aix-la-Chapelle, and Cöthen, formed the principal establishments where "strangers were taken in and done for" throughout Germany.

Wilhelmsbad scarcely attracted the outside world at all, being frequented almost exclusively by Germans. Wildungen might have been called a child left out in the cold; the accommodation was indifferent, and the place itself cheerless and devoid of charm, besides which it was not so easy to get at. Modestly conscious of its slender claims to consideration, the authorities presiding over the tables allowed a minimum stake of 10 groschen (1 franc 25 cents), and only enforced a tax of a quarter of the _refait_ at trente-et-quarante and a quarter of the zero at roulette, a state of affairs which should have been far from unfavourable to the players.

As a matter of fact, public gaming, whatever may be said against it, left those places where it formerly flourished in a high state of prosperity--the Kursaals and gardens of German health-resorts, such as Homburg and Baden-Baden, owed their inception entirely to gaming, whilst several other insignificant places were converted into agreeable pleasure-resorts by the influence of trente-et-quarante and roulette.

In spite of the doubtful morality of the enterprise carried on by the proprietors of the tables they certainly metamorphosed several miserable German townlets into cities of palaces. They planted the gardens; they imported the orange trees; they laid out the parks; enclosed the hunting-grounds; and, as it were, boarded, lodged, washed, and taxed the inhabitants. Homburg, for instance, was entirely the creation of M. Blanc.

The story of the commencement of the immense fortune accumulated by M. Blanc is curious.

One fine day in 1842 the two brothers Blanc, who were temporarily disgusted with France owing to a daring and unsuccessful speculation connected with the old semaphore telegraph (which electricity rendered obsolete), arrived at Frankfort.

Their stock-in-trade consisted of a few thousand francs, a roulette wheel, and an ancient croupier, a veteran of Frascati's who knew everything worth knowing about gambling and cards.

The purpose of this visit was to convince the authorities of Frankfort that their city would derive great benefit from affording facilities for public play, but with this, however, they were not disposed to agree. In consequence of its cool reception, the little party then wended its way to the obscure village of Homburg, where the elder of the two brothers, after some negotiations, obtained permission to set the roulette wheel going in one of the rooms of the principal inn.

GUIDE
DU SPÉCULATEUR
au
TRENTE-QUARANTE
et
A LA ROULETTE
avec la manière de faire
EN SIX MOIS PLUS DE =50= CAPITAUX.

1er Capital. 1,400 Florins. (3,000 Francs.)

Par un ancien notaire.

HOMBOURG-ÈS-MONTS. 1856.
LOUIS SCHICK, IMPRIMEUR-ÉDITEUR.

As at Monte Carlo to-day, infallible "guides" to success at the tables were to be obtained in the Homburg book-shops. The above is a facsimile of the title-page of one of the most curious of these booklets.]

The next year an exclusive concession was granted to the Blancs to establish games of hazard within the dominions of the Landgraf. They agreed to build a Kursaal, lay out public gardens, and pay about 40,000 florins (something over four thousand a year) to the Landgraf. A company was formed, and soon the fashionable world flocked to Homburg--ostensibly to drink the waters, but, in reality, to lose their money at trente-et-quarante and roulette.

The general policy pursued by M. Blanc at Homburg was very similar to that afterwards adopted at Monte Carlo, which is still in its essential features followed by the present administration.

The hours allotted to play were from eleven in the morning to eleven at night, which was also the case at Monaco up till quite recent years.

The proceedings at Homburg before play began, that is to say, the counting of money and other preparations for the day's campaign, were also much the same as at Monte Carlo, though the actual opening of the rooms for play was more dramatic. As the clock struck eleven the strains of martial music were heard and the doors of the "salons" were thrown wide open, admitting a stream of people, amongst whom were many officers, a note of colour being struck by their uniforms, which were principally white or green.

In the early days of Homburg, owing to an extraordinary rainfall, a flood of water once made its way into the gaming-rooms and caused the players to beat a precipitate retreat. A fat old German Princess, however, who was devoted to play, was too heavy to get out in time, and had to be hoisted up on to one of the roulette tables, where she placidly remained till matters were put right and the play had resumed its normal course.

In the Kursaal were the Café Olympique, private rooms for parties, and, most important of all, a big saloon and two smaller ones. Here from eleven in the forenoon to eleven at night, Sundays not excepted, all the year round, people from every part of the world came to throw their gold and silver upon the tables.

As a town Homburg was practically created by the Kursaal. The hotel-keepers and tradesmen lived by it as well as the Landgraf, whose main source of revenue was derived from it. This sovereign, of course, was practically sold to the Kursaal, the Board of Directors being the real rulers of Hesse-Homburg. The prosperity which the advent of M. Blanc had brought to his dominions cheered the declining years of this Prince, who was the oldest reigning sovereign in Europe at the time of his death, which occurred on the 24th of March 1866. He had attained the great age of eighty-three when he expired in the arms of two weeping widowed women--one his niece, the Princess Reuss, the other his aged sister, the Dowager Grand Duchess of Mecklenburg-Schwerin. This event caused a temporary cessation of play, which had been continuous since the 17th of August 1843.

The insidious fascination connected with gambling was once strikingly exemplified at Homburg. The story, though a well-known one, will bear repetition.

M. Blanc had been pondering what to give his wife on her birthday, when a peculiarly attractive parasol caught his eye as he was strolling amongst the shops; so he went in and inquired the price, which was twenty marks. The founder of the great gaming establishment was a careful man, and it seemed to him that to pay so much for a parasol was extravagant. Nevertheless, he ordered it to be put aside for him, saying that he would call and pay for it later.

On his way to the Casino the thought suddenly struck him: "To win twenty marks in the rooms is quite easy--numbers of people do it, but they don't stop; which is the reason I make so much money. Why shouldn't I win the price of this parasol--make my twenty marks and walk out?"

Walking up to a trente-et-quarante table and unobtrusively stationing himself behind a group of players, M. Blanc furtively slipped twenty marks on the red--black won. Forty marks on the red--black again won. Eighty marks on the black--red won. He now became excited and, the money he had in his pocket being exhausted, edged towards an astonished _chef de partie_, to whom he was, of course, well-known, and instructed him to place one hundred and sixty marks on red. The croupier dealt the cards, and announced that red had lost. By this time every one had realised that M. Blanc was staking against his own tables, and the whole room flocked to see such an extraordinary sight. The croupiers concluded that their chief had gone mad, for he stood looking fixedly at the cards, entirely absorbed in the effort to recover his losses and win the price of the parasol. To make a long story short, he continued to stake till he had lost about £1000, when of a sudden he realised the situation and rushed out of the rooms. He was, of course, considerably chaffed about this exploit, which was said to have been the only occasion on which he had been known to play. For many a long day afterwards, he used regretfully to say: "That was the dearest parasol I ever bought in my life."

M. Blanc, who was more assailed than any other banker, was once nearly made the victim of a stratagem, which might have entailed serious results. A scoundrel contrived to get into the "Konversationhaus" by night, and blocked up all the low numbers in the roulette machine in such a manner that the ball, on falling in, must inevitably leap out again. On the next day he and his accomplices played and netted a large sum by backing the high numbers. They carried on the game for two or three days, but were fortunately overheard by a detective while quarrelling about the division of their plunder in the gardens behind the establishment. They were arrested and the money recovered. A very dangerous design was also formed against M. Blanc by one of his croupiers, who, being discontented with his lot, determined to make his fortune at one _coup_. The plan he contrived was this. He procured a pack of prearranged cards, which he concealed in his hat, and when it came to his turn to deal he intended to drop the bank cards into his _chapeau_ and cleverly substitute the others; but this artfully-concocted scheme was upset by one of his confederates who considered that he might make a better and safer thing of it by telling M. Blanc beforehand.

A great attack was once made by a Belgian syndicate upon the tables at Homburg, and for a time had some appearance of ultimate success. In the end, however, M. Blanc emerged triumphant from the contest, which is mentioned by Thackeray in the _Kickleburys on the Rhine_.

It was at Homburg that the celebrated Garcia once created an enormous sensation by asking the bank to double the limit of 12,000 francs. According to one account a meeting of the Directors was hastily summoned by M. Blanc, who was in favour of letting Garcia have his way; but it was finally decided that no alteration should be made. Another version is that M. Blanc consented to double the limit if Garcia would play sitting down and not standing up, the veteran banker's opinion being that any one standing up was much more likely to depart with winnings than a player seated at the table. Garcia accordingly sat down, and though at first very unlucky, eventually rose a winner.

Garcia is said to have come to Germany with two thousand francs--his whole fortune--in search of employment. Whilst at Frankfort he determined to go and try his luck at the Homburg tables, and being fortunate enough to get on several runs of his favourite colour--red--he won about £20,000 in three weeks. An Englishman, it is said, was so convinced that the runs on red must end, that he watched for what he deemed a propitious moment and began staking maximums on black against Garcia, with the result that in a few days he left Homburg without a penny.

Garcia continued to play on after his rival's defeat, and though at one moment he was reduced to a capital of six thousand francs, he retrieved his fortunes by a run of fourteen reds, and eventually left Homburg with some £50,000--some say more. He now declared that he was determined never to play again; but this resolution was soon broken, for within a couple of years he was trying to break the bank at Baden. Black turned up too often for him, however, and he lost heavily.

He then thought he would try Homburg again, and was there eventually reduced to beggary after a few months' play. This gambler subsequently figured in a most unsavoury card scandal which took place in Paris in February 1863 at the house of Madame Julia Barucci. This lady, who was young and attractive, was always surrounded by a large circle of admirers, and the party which she gave to celebrate her first evening in a new abode was therefore particularly animated, about thirty guests being present, amongst whom was Signor Calzado, the well-known manager of a Paris theatre. Calzado, it should be said, was disliked by the party generally--Garcia alone being on terms of intimacy with him--not only because he was a gamester, but probably because he had the reputation of being a card-sharper, which he was, and a very bold and original one too. (Calzado once went to Havana and bought up every pack of cards in the place, having previously freighted a vessel with marked playing-cards, which arrived just in time to supply the dealers, whose stocks were completely exhausted. With the cards he had prepared and imported, Calzado played incessantly, and for high stakes, being, as an inevitable result, a constant and heavy winner.) The most popular guest was Signor Miranda, Gentleman of the Queen of Spain's household, a constant and honourable gamester, well-known as being capable of losing large sums. He came with about 100,000 francs in his pocket. As soon as possible Garcia arranged a rouge-et-noir table, at which his countrymen, Calzado and Miranda, took their places, the latter soon winning 30,000 francs. After supper baccarat was proposed; whereupon Garcia absented himself from the room for half an hour under the pretext of wishing to smoke a cigar in the air. Retiring into a private chamber, he disposed about his person several packs of cards which he had brought with him, and then returning to the gaming-table began to play for high stakes. His success was extraordinary, and in a short time he won 140,000 francs, chiefly from Signor Miranda. Calzado, who followed Garcia's lead, also won a large sum. The extraordinary good luck of Garcia, and the marvellous character of the cards which he held, aroused the astonishment of the players as well as the suspicions of those looking on, and it was at length perceived that some of the cards in Garcia's hand were of a different design from that of the packs provided by the hostess. He was charged with foul play; whereupon, somewhat confused, he admitted having introduced cards of his own, though stoutly maintaining that he had played fairly, and had brought certain packs from his club merely because they always proved lucky cards to him, which in this instance was certainly true. He offered as a matter of courtesy and as a favour, being, as he said, desirous of avoiding a scandal, to refund his winnings, if the whole affair were hushed up. At the same time he produced the sum of 50,000 francs; but those whom he had cheated were not to be tricked into accepting a third part of their losses in place of the whole, and an extraordinary scene followed. Seeing that his position was desperate, and fearful lest he should be forcibly despoiled of his ill-gotten winnings, Garcia tried to escape. Finding the door bolted, he rushed all over the house, finally hiding himself in a corner of an obscure room, from which he was chased by his amazed pursuers, who seized him and roughly stripped him of all the money in his possession. It was now the turn of Calzado, who was then asked to display the contents of his pockets, or suffer himself to be searched. He refused to do either, but stealthily allowed a roll of bank-notes, to the value of 16,000 francs, to slip down his trousers and fall on the floor. The roll was picked up and handed to him, but he denied all knowledge of it. Eventually the brother cheats were permitted to leave the house, but after their departure it was reckoned that, in spite of everything, they had carried with them at least 40,000 francs.

Garcia and Calzado were both tried for swindling. The former appeared in person; Calzado, however, had fled. Both were convicted of malpractices, Garcia being sentenced to five years' and Calzado to thirteen months' imprisonment, in addition to fines of 3000 francs each. They were also ordered to pay jointly 31,000 francs to Miranda. The hostess, Madame Barucci, escaped punishment, but was placed under strict police supervision, lest she should again allow prohibited games to be played in her house. Garcia died in great misery about 1881.

In 1872 the gambling-establishment at Homburg became a thing of the past. A great number of the townspeople of that resort were shareholders, and all, more or less, derived some profit direct or indirect from the play. During the war between Austria and Prussia they began to be somewhat perturbed, and on their annexation to the latter country, they hoped against hope that Bismarck, whatever he might do with kings, would leave what to them was far more important than dynasties and kingdoms--the bank--alone.

In 1867, however, the blow fell, and the directors of the gambling-rooms, summoned to appear before the Governor, were informed that all play was to cease in 1872.

It should be added that an arrangement of a not unfair kind protected the interests of the shareholders.

Drawn by the late G.A. Sala. (_Impasse_ should of course be _Impair_.)]

During these last days of play at Homburg a great crowd had been coming in, but still the tables were not inconveniently crowded, and people were able to stake their money with ease though without comfort. There was, however, a good deal of pilfering and snatching of money, which had always been rather a feature at this resort, shrill-tongued harpies being apt to pounce on the couple of five-franc pieces just won by any simple Englishman ignorant of the German tongue. As the end approached the usual high play still prevailed, but the administration was a good deal disturbed by the advent of workmen, shopmen, and others, a very different class of people from their aristocratic clients of the summer season. These new visitors were sturdy, brutal customers, who became frenzied if they lost a florin, and seemed not unlikely to revenge themselves by some lawless raid. This very unlucrative crowd continued to increase, and it became known that on the last two days the forces would be recruited by yet larger bands. The administration, wisely reckoning that the result might be a general riot organised for purposes of plunder, took measures to avert such a crowning catastrophe. On the Sunday, then, while numbers of speculative individuals at Frankfort and other towns were arranging for one grand final expedition, and were looking forward to being in at the death, it was determined to end play for ever suddenly and without notice. Before five o'clock this had been done, much to the indignant surprise of the new arrivals, and the rage and fury of the less scrupulous. This, perhaps, was no undignified end; and Homburg, from a gambling point of view, may be said to have "died game." The administration maintained its honeyed, courteous phrases to the last, and on the Monday stuck little proclamations all over the walls, to the effect that the "Administration begged to inform _la société_ that there would be no play on the 30th and 31st inst. Signed: The Kurhaus Direction." Nevertheless on the back sheet of the Belgian papers was a huge advertisement proclaiming to all whom it concerned that there would be play to the last day of the month. Such an oversight was scarcely fair to the friends and admirers of the tables, some of whom travelled from a great distance to bid a final adieu to the Halls of Chance.

The appearance of the gambling-house on the day after the cessation of play was indescribable, resembling a badly-set scene by daylight. Numbers of charwomen and men-servants hung about in groups; officials, like those of a bankrupt hotel, went about with keys; chairs were piled on the long gaming-tables by irreverent hands; everything looked as though there was going to be a sale by auction. The ball-room, however, still had its chairs all set out in order, as if company were expected, whilst the orchestra played in the gardens, which already presented a neglected air. Even the theatre looked shabby, though behind the frame of wire network was to be read the announcement of the last--the very last in all truth--appearance of the "Diva Patti" in _La Sonnambula_.

Ems was another gambling resort. This was essentially a rendezvous of all the pleasure-loving aristocracy and fashionable financiers of the day--unlike Wiesbaden and Homburg, which were rather the chosen battle-fields of well-known and seasoned gamblers.

A Spaniard at Ems made a very comfortable living by a method of playing he had invented. He placed three louis d'or on the manque, which contains all the numbers to eighteen, and two louis on the last series of twelve; that is, from twenty-four to thirty-six. Thus he had only six numbers and two zeroes against him. If manque gained, he won three louis and lost two; if a number in the last twelve came up, he won four and lost three; but a continuation of zeroes would have ruined his calculation. Russians in particular were very fond of Ems. Many played very high, and a good deal of private gambling was done there on the quiet.

At Geneva in the 'sixties trente-et-quarante was somewhat furtively played in a _Cercle des Étrangers_. Roulette, however, was not allowed. The authorities perhaps feared that the noise of the little ball flying round on its course to a numbered compartment might awaken Calvin from the quiet of his tomb.

There was once what was practically a regular gaming-house on English soil. This was in the 'fifties, when mild roulette was played on the island of Heligoland. A miniature roulette-table there was much frequented by joyous Israelites and English officers from the mainland. In 1856, however, an outraged English tourist wrote a furious letter to _The Times_, complaining of such horrors existing under the British flag. He denounced the scandalous desecration of the English name, and so forth; and in consequence the Governor issued an edict against the roulette. Play, however, on a diminutive scale continued there some time longer.

The closing of the gaming-tables in Germany was the cause of many rumours as to the future of gambling enterprise. The Valley of Andorra in the Pyrenees was said to have been selected by some French speculators as the scene of their operations for the ensuing year, a well-known financier being declared to have obtained a monopoly of theatres, hotels, casinos, railways, and almost everything else that this valley lacked and might be supposed to want. There was also a rumour that efforts were being made to start tables at St. Moritz, in Switzerland, very tempting offers having been made to the authorities.

These anticipations were not, however, realised, and Monte Carlo remains the only regular public gaming-place in Europe, though intermittent public gambling has been tolerated at certain Belgian pleasure-resorts, notably at Ostend. Two or three years ago public gaming was altogether prohibited there, but it now appears to flourish much as before. It is almost superfluous to add that when it was announced that the Belgian authorities had determined to suppress all public play there was much enthusiastic congratulation from this country. The usual time-worn phrases as to the demoralising effects of gambling were unctuously presented to a public whose conscience, it was declared, had too long been outraged by the proximity of such a dangerous temptation; and the Belgians were told that they might anticipate reaping a golden harvest as the result of the high-principled attitude which had been adopted, for the English would now be able to visit their pleasure-resorts without fear of contamination.

A large number of the Ostend shopkeepers really believed that the suppression of play would bring more foreign money into their pockets; but they soon realised their mistake, for when the visitors from across the channel found that there was no chance of enlivening their stay at Ostend (a resort of few natural attractions) with a little flutter, they beat a precipitate retreat, and the prosperity of the town began to suffer severely.

Eventually, as the result of serious protest from the local shopkeepers and others who saw ruin staring them in the face, a species of compromise has been adopted; and baccarat with one tableau (of which more anon) is now allowed in the _Cercle_, election to which is not very difficult.

A short time ago roulette without a zero was here held out as a great attraction to visitors. As a matter of fact this game was only played for a limited number of hours every day, and these were precisely those when visitors would in the ordinary course of events be taking their meals. The game was merely kept going as a lure to the more profitable baccarat, the authorities being well aware that roulette without a zero is unlikely to prove a great source of profit to the bank.

Experience teaches that for some reason not very clearly understood single tableau baccarat would seem to be particularly favourable to the banker. So great, indeed, has been the havoc wrought by this game that the French have given it the name of "La Faucheuse,"--"the mowing-machine"!

Those who cried out so loudly for the suppression of the trente-et-quarante at Ostend have, like so many well-meaning people, done little but harm, for the suppressed trente-et-quarante was a far less dangerous game. Trente-et-quarante, it should be added, is played at St. Sebastian, where up to the present year there was also roulette.

At French watering-places gaming flourishes as merrily as ever during the season. At Trouville, Biarritz, and Aix-les-Bains the game of baccarat forms one of the chief attractions. There is a good deal of high play at Trouville at the time of the races. During the present year one player alone--a very rich gambler fond of high stakes--lost no less than a million francs. No inconsiderable portion of this sum must have gone in the percentage which the French Government now levies upon banks at baccarat. During the last year there was also a great deal of play at Nice, where the game in question was as popular as the classic roulette and trente-et-quarante of Monaco.

It is almost impossible to conceive how the vast majority of French summer pleasure-resorts would contrive to exist were baccarat and petits chevaux to be suppressed, for a certain portion of the large profit derived from play is devoted to the upkeep of the Casinos, which furnish visitors with excellent entertainment. It is, indeed, owing directly and indirectly to the toleration of play that the French _plages_ are proving such formidable rivals to the miserably dull English seaside resorts, which offer so little to visitors who are fond of a little exciting amusement.

In 1907 the French Government promulgated a new code of regulations to be enforced at Casinos, all of which were closed for two or three days throughout France--an operation which, of course, evoked a mass of hypocritical and totally inaccurate comment in England.

France was congratulated upon her determination to stop every form of that gambling which had for so many years shocked English visitors, who would, of course, warmly welcome the stern measures about to be enforced, and flock across the Channel in largely increased numbers as a result.

As a matter of fact, the Casinos were closed merely to emphasise the fact that the Government intended to see that the new regulations which they imposed, amongst which was one regulating a tax upon baccarat banks, should be respected.

The very rumour that it was proposed permanently to prohibit gambling terrified the local authorities, a large number of whom at once went up to Paris to ascertain whether there was any foundation of truth in such an idea, which to many a watering-place would mean nothing less than ruin.

They were, however, soon reassured, for in the end only one small and insignificant Casino was permanently closed.

By the decree of June 21, 1907, certain games of chance are permitted at watering-places and health-resorts which have been officially recognised as such by the Minister of the Interior, on the representation of the Municipal Council and the Prefect. These are baccarat, écarté, and the game of petits chevaux and its varieties. A tax of fifteen per cent is levied on the sum produced by the cagnotte at écarté and baccarat.

Counters, which were formerly used at Casinos to represent money, were entirely prohibited, a prohibition which, however, does not apply to Clubs. The reason for this was that players were apt to obtain considerable advances from the _caisse_ in baccarat-rooms, a state of affairs not so likely to happen when ready money alone may be staked. Playing in cash is also generally of a more careful kind than play in counters, which for the time being seem nothing at all. A player, of course, has a far greater chance at baccarat than at petits chevaux, where the percentage is very unfavourable to him, one horse out of the nine being the bank's.

According to the new law, fifteen per cent is now levied on the gross winnings of the bank at this game every day; should the bank lose it is allowed to deduct the sum lost from its winnings the next day.

The sum produced by this tax of fifteen per cent is to be devoted to charity, and to various other objects of public utility and affecting the public health.

When this decree was first issued, chemin-de-fer baccarat was not included amongst the list of tolerated games, the French authorities being still horror-struck with the recollection of the single tableau baccarat, called "La Faucheuse" (the game which, thanks to Puritan effort, is played at Ostend), which had provoked such gross scandals in Paris. It was, however, subsequently legalised by a special decree which was promulgated in the _Journal Officiel_ of the 18th August 1907, and is taxed at the same rate as other tolerated games.

The main cause of the French Government moving in the matter of gambling at all had been the large increase of so-called gambling clubs in Paris entirely devoted to single tableau baccarat, from which an enormous harvest of gold had been gathered by those holding the banks. It was said that no less than 126 new establishments of this kind had sprung up in Paris, a state of affairs calculated to make the dead proprietors of the long-suppressed and very strictly regulated tables in the old Palais Royal turn in their graves. Many of these Clubs were frequented by women, and it was rumoured that many of the brightest stars of the French _demi-monde_ had lost almost everything they had. Paris began to be seriously alarmed. Drastic measures were adopted; the foreign proprietors of the gaming-places expelled from France; "La Faucheuse" forbidden throughout the country; and gambling generally placed upon the strictly regulated footing which has been described. The results of the very sensible action of the French Government appear to be highly satisfactory, for since the promulgation of the decree regulating play no scandals have occurred, whilst it is anticipated that in the course of time a sum well over two million pounds a year will be available for objects of public utility.

Surely the wise regulation of what appears to be an irradicable evil is far more salutary, alike from a financial and a moral point of view, than the unthinking policy of drastic suppression, which, as experience teaches, has ever been powerless to extirpate gambling.