LITMIR.BIZ

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I believe you are supposed to have your private visiting card in readiness.

      "'Will you walk into my parlour?' said the spider to the fly."

      There was no doubt on that day, at least, of the flies swarming in. Frith's celebrated picture occurred instantly to my mind, and I saw at a glance how faithful it was to the sad reality.

      You cannot fail to be struck by the extreme quiet amongst so many people. Every one speaks in whispers. There is a certain solemnity about it, the same as that felt in a church; and truly this might be termed the house of the devil. The large and spacious rooms, with beautifully painted walls, Moorish ceilings, and polished floors, are without furniture save the long tables and chairs for those intending to play steadily. Here sit the yellow-faced, sleepless, hard-eyed croupiers, spinning the fatal ball, and mechanically sweeping in with their rakes the piles of money staked and lost by the infatuated players. These are not limited to those seated at the table and who form but the front row. What a mixture they are! Cadaverous, selfish old women; others, handsome, gay, and reckless, evidently in the interest of the table, and hired to act as decoys; others, again, young and inexperienced; and even ladies, pale, unhappy-looking—were all represented. The men for the most part hardened and merciless, and many careless young gentlemen, some of them innocent-looking lads enough, but others, alas! showing painfully their habits of dissipation, in spite of their youth—all waiting eagerly to clutch their winnings or silently lose their money.

      Further up the room are other tables, at which higher stakes are played. Trente et quarante is perhaps a little more favourable to players than roulette, though it depends very much on the shuffling of the cards. Piles of gold and notes were laid upon the table, either for or against the numbers backed turning up. But here was the same sickening sight—mad, selfish infatuation; and we turned away, having had quite enough of the "shady side" of the lovely but too fascinating Monte Carlo, being glad to get out into the bright sunshine once more. In the rooms we had left, the blinds and curtains were closely drawn, excluding the pure light of heaven, as if those so earnestly engaged within preferred darkness to light because their deeds were evil.

      A great number of people from the "tables" followed to catch the train, and we had the sad reflection that a fresh batch would soon arrive in time for the evening concert. Residents of Monaco and Monte Carlo are not supposed to be admitted, as it is not desirable that the half-frenzied losers should remain in these peaceful elysiums; a fresh and continuous stream of victims is much preferred.

      But these Shylock millionaires, the owners of the tables—these Princes of Hades who alone profit by the wreck of their fellow-creatures, are perfectly content to fatten, like over-gorged leeches, on the weaknesses and follies of their prey. What matters it to them, the misery and unhappiness of others, so long as they thrive? What matter the means, so long as their end is obtained?

      I am sorry to say that ladies are the greatest victims. They are more easily tempted by their love of excitement and adventure, and once they touch the fatal dice it is almost impossible to hold them in. Many ladies who come to Nice and Mentone as invalids, go to Monte Carlo, not only for the enchanting scenery, but for the fine concerts, which are free to all comers. Indeed, most invalids long for such a means of recreation, and it is a great pity they cannot obtain it elsewhere when visiting the Riviera. Then their curiosity is aroused about the gaming-tables, purposely encouraged by lying reports of people having made their fortunes by a single throw of the dice. After the concert, how natural to stroll into the gay saloons, the liveried servants so politely opening the doors to them! And all this is the most cruel part of the gambling fraternity—Messieurs Blanc and Co., who so heartlessly lay out these alluring baits. Perchance these ladies are accompanied by pure-minded daughters, all unthinking of the frightful contamination of the numbers of so-called "ladies of fashion"—habitués and hirelings, decoys simply in the pay of the gambling propriétaire. It is impossible to know the moral injury it will do these innocent young girls. Then, there is the husband who takes his wife, and permits her or himself to chance a napoleon. It is impossible to touch pitch without defilement, or to know where that one thoughtless yielding to temptation may lead. Yes! it is too often just one napoleon and no more. Unfortunately they win, and then of course they come again and again, with the sad result of eventually losing all that is worth living for.

      Some of these invalid ladies actually starve themselves, when they ought to be nourishing and strengthening their poor bodies; acting meanly at their hotels in order to save sufficient money to go to Monte Carlo, and in the end it is all lost! Then they return to their homes with mind, health, and nerves completely shattered, to the grief and astonishment of kind friends and family doctors. There is no doubt that when people are once tempted, it creates in them quite a disease; this is called "play-fever."

      An English gentleman staying at the same hotel with us told me that he came to the Riviera almost every year, and that he limited himself to £100 for the gaming pleasures at Monte Carlo, which he could not resist, and this sum he invariably lost at the end of the season.

      But, of course, all those who frequent this place are not "innocents abroad." That is another evil resulting from this pandemonium. Blacklegs and adventurers of both sexes swarm here from all parts of Europe, demoralizing and degrading the lovely shores of the Mediterranean, by their vulgar and hateful presence. Thousands of invalids and others of all nations yearly visit the beautiful little towns along the Riviera, and this fatal trap at Monte Carlo, whereby so many are helplessly ruined, and so many suicides result, should at least have the moral voice of the world against it—in fact, an international protest, for it is a gross scandal and disgrace to the whole of Europe. All who know anything of this gambling Hades—what is done to keep it alive, its irresistible fascination over even strong minds, and the number of its victims, will, I think, acknowledge that it is even worse than slavery. For the poor negro has to bear physical degradation only, whilst here it is both moral and physical; body and soul-suffering to the victim and his friends. Why, then, should this place have been allowed to exist so long?

      First of all, France secretly encourages and indirectly profits by it. Were she earnest in her endeavours to suppress this infernal machinery at Monte Carlo, it would soon be stopped, and she would have the thanks of the civilized world for her good efforts. Italy is not entirely without blame: the late Pope Pius IX. more than winked at it. Russia is also accessory to it; the propensity to gamble seems natural to her people; and the corrupt journalists on the continent gloss over and help to support it.

      The story of Monte Carlo is perhaps not sufficiently well known. In consequence of his subjects revolting from his tyrannical rule, the Prince of Monaco lost part of his territory. France having annexed Nice and Savoy after the Italian campaign of 1859, the prince's fortunes were at a very low ebb indeed. But under the protection of Napoleon III., who put him up to a good thing in ground speculation at Paris, when Baron Hausmann was going ahead with his great building furore, the prince's coffers were not long empty. Then, the gambling-houses in Germany having been suppressed, the notorious Blanc—whose family, I believe, are still the proprietors of the tables at Monte Carlo—appeared upon the scene, doubtless accompanied by a few choice friends. The importance of Monaco, from a gambler's point of view, and the natural beauty of the place, were not lost sight of by him. The constant stream of visitors to Cannes, Nice, Mentone, and San Remo, must pass through Monte Carlo and pay there a terrible toll. An immense sum was lavished in making the place the delightful paradise it has become, less, of course, its Satanic evils. Beautiful gardens, cafés, concert and gaming-saloons, constructed with all the fascinating skill and taste that money and art could accomplish, were added to its natural attractions. The best of music and artistes procured, journalists bribed to advertize its advantages as a "health resort," men and women of fashion drawn hither, and then all was ready for the dupes.

      Nice became an adjunct. The proprietors of the Monte Carlo Tables support the gaieties there, giving prizes at the races, and other inducements, to render it more attractive to visitors, the majority of whom would invariably find their way to Monte Carlo. Besides, it were better that their unfortunate and maddened victims should blow out their brains at Nice and other places, rather than give Monte Carlo a bad name! Though, frequently, they evade the gens d'armes, and at dawn of day are found in the beautiful gardens lifeless. The glorious sun rises

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