GOLDEN MONTE CARLO.

Auckland Star, Volume LII, Issue 168, 16 July 1921, Page 25

GOLDEN MONTE CARLO.

PICTURES OF THE PAST. BONE DISCS REPLACE *COINS. Where is the gold of Monte Carlo? Alas, that the war, which changed every- : thing, did not spare the famous casino! This year on tho Riviera there is a desperate attempt to get back to the conditions of the good old days preceding 1914, and in most ways it is successful. Even the Germans who are to be found down here try to pretend that nothing has happened. The gold, however, the rich red gold of the gaming tables, is missing. Monte Carlo, a symbol throughout the world for liquid, visible wealth, is reduced to playing for counters. No doubt it comes to much the same thing in the end. You may lose as much by playing with "chips" as if you were staking golden Louis. But it doesn't feel the same or look the same, either to win or lose. Something of the old exhilaration and fascination is gone. Monte Carlo needs gold, gold in heaps, visible to the eye. Its disappearance takes the gilt oil". In the old days you at least lost like a gentleman. You took gold or silver j from your pocket, staked it, and saw it raked up to swell the bank- Now you change paper notes for shiny bone discs (or perhaps they may be celluloid). In the old days an ancient hag who sat with a hundred golden louis piled up before her hud something of the reflected distinction which mere wealth can give. But now the piles of chips leave her morally nuked, and she looks only the gambler. One misses the golden note immediately on entering the rooms. There used to be a song in the air—the sons of gold clunking and ringing against gold. It was never still, this golden hymn to the goddess Chance, and it lent a zest to what can be a very matter-of-fact and mathematical business. I remember a scene just before the ■war (writes Mr. H. Collinson Owen in the London '-Daily Express.") The voow were closing for the night, and 1 1 1» watching the emptying of the bank 2* the last table to close. Oflicials in evening dress were gathered importantly around. Liveried menials hurried up. carrying strong, brass-bound boxes. Tna rouleaux of gold pieces, big and little, were counted, stowed away in leather bags and packed in the boxes. The; piles of silver pieces and sheaves of notes were treated in the same way, and then the liveried attendants carried the treasures away to the vaults. I asked a question of one of the officials, and was answered abruptly, curtly. The rooms were now empty, and the presence of a stranger looking on at an almost sacred ceremony was not relished. All day long, with the roulette wheels merrily spinning, Monte Carlo had been taking our money in the most openhanded, charming fashion. But with the shutters up and the wheels still, it desired no spectators. It was not good for the visitors to see their money carried away for ever in those unsympathetic strong boxes. But now, I imagine, Monte Carlo Would not care a bone counter if you stood and watched it counting its wealth, envy, no evil or dangerous passions. w ou]d he excited-by those make-believe rouleaux. The war which robbed all of Us of our gold has robbed Monte Carlo of its most powerful fascination. Down in its vaults, I understand, Monte Carlo still guards that yellow wealth Avhich

used to charm the ear and delight the eye. But until the day comes when circumstances allow the gold to be spread out again on the green cloth, Monte Carlo must resign itself to being a pale imitation of its old self. The cry of its croupiers, "Rien neva plus!" might well be carved above its portals.