DAGONET (GEORGE R. SIMS) AT MONTE CARLO.

Evening Star, Issue 7473, 17 March 1888, Page 1 (Supplement)

DAGONET (GEORGE R. SIMS) AT MONTE CARLO.

+ THE GAMBLING SALOONS. AMUSING AND INSTRUCTIVE EXPERIENCES. [' Referee.'] I am unfortunate. The stars in their courses are righting agaiust me. I have come South in search of warmth, and I arrivo in Nice to find everybody and everything frozen, and the streets and roads covered six inches deep in snow ! I express my feelings with my usual absence of reserve to the proprietor of the hotel, who steps out with a blue nose and chattering teeth to welcome me to the sunny South. The hotel keeper expresses his deep sympathy. He acknowledges that I have a right to complain, but he begs to assure me that snow in Nice is an almost unheard-of calamity. He appeals to the oldest inhabitant, who happens to be passing ; and the oldest inhabitant, feeling that the honor of his city is at stake, plunges volubly into facts and dates, and proves most completely, to his own satisfaction, that not a particle of snow has fallen in Nice since the winter of 1872 until the day of my arrival in ISB7. I accept the facts and figures of the oldest inhabitant; but I inquire fiercely of tho blue-nosed hotelkeepor in what way this improves the situation. I maintain that the fact of this being the first snow for fifteen years only adds an insult to my injury. For fifteen years the snow has been in abeyance. It only falls on the eve of my arrival. Moreover, I am smarting under a double sense of wrong. I could have gono on to Monte Carlo-another half hour in tho railway train, and I should have descended at that earthly paradise " where all save the spirit of man is divine." But I said to my.elf: " No; Monte Carlo is a gay place ; there are gaming-tables at Monte Carlo; yield not to temptation ; alight at Nice, and be staid and sober and respectable." It was a hard struggle ; but virtue conquered, and I leapt from the train de luxe at Nice, while all the other joyous travellers and travelleresses went on to Monte Carlo. And what was my reward ? A biting wind, icicles, six inches of snow in the roads, a pavement of skating rinks, all the discomfort and desolation of a London winter, while at Monte Carlo—l could have jumped upon the man who gave me the information with a mocking smile upon his lips -all day long it had been glorious sunshine, and not a particle of anow had fallen. If I had been wicked, and gone to Monte Carlo, I should have had warmth and comfort and gaiety. I was good, and stopped short at Nice, and I had cold, discomfort, and unutterable dulness. But I didn't, like grandfather's clock, stop short never to go on again. 0 dear no ! On the following morning I fled to the station, took a ticket for Monte Carlo—and . But I must not anticipate. Many fearful and wonderful things happened on the journey from Paris to Nice, and they must be duly related. I am frequently reminded that I keep a diary in these columns. In a well-kept diary there should be no blank page. I left Paris on the coldest night I ever remember to have experienced. As the journey from Paris to Nice occupies by express some eighteen hours, 1 took all the money out of my money-box and purchased two seats in the train de luxe for Albert Edward and myself. The train of luxury, otherwise the Nice and Rome express, only runs at intervals during the week, and tickets have to be secured beforehand, as the number of places is limited. For the accommodation provided in the train of luxury we were charged L 4 10s each, over and above the price of our ticket, and in return we had a bed made up in our compartment. It is a very large sum to pay for a bed for a single night, but, so long as there are English and Americans with plenty of money to fling about, the price will be kept up. Judge of my horror when, after parting with the savings of a lifetime, in order to travel by the train of luxury, I arrived at the Btation to find that my carriage was carriage No. 2, and that didn't form part of the train leaving Paris, but had to be joined at Villeneuve-St.-George's, a station some distance further on. After a considerable amount of discussion with porters, inspectors, under-chiefs, and chiefs-in-full of the Paris, Lyons, and Mediterranean Railway, we were at the last moment allowed to have a firstrclass carriage attached to the train of luxury, in order that we might be taken on to where " carriage No. 2" was waiting for us. There we were told to alight, and a fussy station-master implored us to make haste, and ho ordered the only railway porter visible to the naked eye to tako our bags and rugs, etc., and carry them to our carriage, which w*3 waiting far down the line. The man obeyed and rushed off along the line, which was ankle-deep in snow. We staggered after him into tho darkness; Albert Edward, who had put on a thin pair of boots because his thick ones hurt him, groaning audibly at every step he took. We hadn't gone far along the lino before the train we had left came after us, and another train came in the opposite direction, and, just as we were wondering whether we had better throw ourselves flat or turn back and run for the platform and safety, the man who was carrying our baggage flung the lot down on tho line, and, exclaiming " Another man will come and tako it," dashed forward into the night and left us with our scattered belongings lying in the snow around us, and the red lamps of the two trains coming nearer and nearer towards us. And this was the first stage_ of our journey by the train of luxury, for which we had paid a premium of 75 per cent, over the first-class fare. Why the solitary porter had sd basely deserted us in the hour of danger we afterwards discovered. He was the only porter, and it was his duty to assist in joining the Paris train to the train at Villeneuve-St. - George's (the English mail which avoids Paris°!and meets the Paris train here), and he had been whistled for by the inspector. But surely the people who organise these trains might make some better arrangements for their customers. To an invalid the turning out in the cold night air, and the long tramp along the line in the deep anow, might have meant death. There are hundreds of invalids going South at this period of the year, and in their interest I have aired my own private grievance. I hope it may be of service in securing better arrangements on the part of the Train of Luxury Company (Limited). These trains are presumably looked upon with considerable disfavor by the companies over whose lines they travel. This, I was assured, -was the reason for many little inconveniences that the travellers from Paris had to put up with. There is a restaurant car attached to the train, and the travellers take a table d'hdte dinner and a lab'e d'hdte breakfast " on board." This also causes the buffet proprietors to regard them with disfavor. When I wanted my " first breakfast" on board tho car, I was informed that there was no butter till we got to Marseilles. Would I wait? Certainly. I waited. At Marseilles a waiter leaped from the car and dashed away with a basket into the town, and was gone about five minutes, when he returned out of breath and streaming with perspiration. " What's the matter with the waiter ?" I said to the conductor. " 0, he's been into the town for some butter!" " Into the town—why didn't he get it at the buffet?" The conductor smiled. " Do you think the buffets would let us have anything for our travellers ? Not they, monsieur. They would see us at Tonquin first." Nice is suffering from the earthquake still. Not that there are any signs of damage, or that there are any symptoms of another attack ; but a good many people have got earthquake on the brain, and are giving the Riviera generally a wide berth. San Remo is full, the Crown Prince probably being the attraction; but the other popular spots are filling up very, very slowly indeed. The Nice people try to explain the emptiness of the place by the statement that everybody has gone on to Rome for the Pope's Jubilee ; but I should say that Nice ia on the down track as a place of popular resort. Fashion, ever fickle, is transferring its affection to other spot?. To-day, although the sun was brilliant and the sky cloudless, I had the Promenade des Anglais very nearly to myself, and in tho evening the theatre was nearly empty. The icy wind and the scorching sun have a peculiar effect when they arelboth on in the same scene. Until 1 came to Nice I was never able to ride about

with one side of my face blistering in the sun and the other side going blue with cold. Nice under a heavy fall of snow presents a curious spectacle ; the blue Mediterranean, the graceful palms, and the orange trees bowed down with their golden fruit, seem so utterly out of keeping with ice-bound roads and great tracts of drifted snow. There is no snow at Monte Carlo. A special Providence seems to watch over the delightful, romantic, wicked, enchanting little spot which dyspeptic leader writers, choking in the London fog, malignantly describe as "the plague-spot of Europe." Monte Carlo escaped damage from the earthquakes, and she has been spared the snow and the ice. She seems, indeed, to bear a charmed life, for nothing affecte her prosperity, and nothing damages her beauty. I fell an instant victim to her wiles. I had not been in the place half an hour before I wanted to come and live there for ever. Every turn roveals somo new beauty, every hour brings some fresh pleasure, and you begin to wonder how it is possible that there can be so many melancholy-looking people in such a heavenly spot, unless you remember that the little ball rolls from morning till night, and that the great bulk of people who come to Monto Carlo come to gamble, and, as a natural consejuance, to lose their money. From noon until eleven o'clock at night, despising the glorious scenery, the tropical vegetation, the balmy air, and the glorious sunshine, the great bulk of the people who come to Monte Carlo crowd round the. roulette and trent et-quarante tables in a serie3 of close, stuffy, and gloomy rooms. Hie air and the sunshine aro rigidly excluded. A dim, religious, artificial light falls upon the tables and the faces of the players. All is forgotten in the greed of gold. Faces are flushed, hands tremble, bosoms heave, and the gold passes slowly and surely into the coffers of the bank. Those who have lost fall out and go their way, with heavy hearts, into the mocking sunshine and the beauteous Eden in which the " establishment" has concealed its serpent. The winners stay on, and plunge and plunge again, only to come to the inevitable end ; it is only a question of time. The unlucky lose at once, the lucky win at first, only to make their ultimate loss the more bitter. The bank neglects no Binglc chance to make sure of its victims. As an instance, let me quote my own case. I left Nice by the 12.27 train for Monte Carlo, intending to return by the 4.47. There was a 4.47 on the time bills, and at the hotel they told me there was such a train. Of course I went to the tables. I was lucky. After playing an hour I had won 500 francs. Said I to myself, said I, "Now I'll be clever. I'll go back to Nice and take my 500 francs with me." I went down to the railway station and waited for the 4.47 train. The hour came, but no train. The station-master was passing. I asked him if the train was late. "O, no, monsieur," was the reply, "that train does not run to-day, and if you look on this time-table you will see it is ' facultatif." " This means that it was " optional," and I found out afterwards that it is very seldom started. There was no train until 7.47, so, of course, I had to go back to the gambling saloon. I couldn't walk about for three hours. Of course I played again to pass the time, and of course I lost nearly all my 500 francs. My experience is the experience of thousands. "If we had only gone away !" But the Monte Carlo people leave no stone unturned to make that going away aB difficult as possible. The trains are run at their own swoet will. I beg pardon, at their own sweet Bacon. What have the trains to do with the gaming-house keepers ? you will say. The answer is: "Everything." The railway company receives an enormous sum annually from the proprietor of the tables not to run trains from Monte Carlo. And more thau this. Money is spent like water to encourage the visitors to stay. In the grounds there is a big hotel, where at halfpast six there is a (able d'Mte. The charge is five francs, and for this sum you get the finest dinner it is possible to sit down to, and wine included ! —not vin. ordinaire, but superior Medoc, and not one bottle, but aB many bottles as you like; and the best champagno is sold at five francs a bottle. Of course ther3 is a loss on the dinner. This is paid by the proprietor of the gambling establishment. He pays the hotelkeeper a subsidy of L 4.000 for the season, in order to make the table d'hOte the finest in the country. AH this is done with one object—to encourage peoplo to come to Monte Carlo and to stay there " because it is cheap," aud the llowor-grounds arc laid out like Fairyland to make people come " because it is so beautiful." Human nature is relied upon to recoup the proprietor for his outlay. Nearly all thoso who como because it ia so cheap, or because it is so lovely, or because it is so healthy, or because it is so gay, find themselves somehow or other at t e tables, and then they loavc so much money that the proprietor finds himself left, after his enormous annual outlay, with a profit so huge that the figures fairly take one's breath away. He has only spread his sprats around wherewith to catch his mackerel. The English contingent at Monte Carlo is a very large one, and not always a very select one. I was rather startled in the Arab quarter of Algiers to hear someone behind me remark that it was"bloomin' 'ot" ; but my surprise was greater when at Monte Carlo, smoking my cigar under the shade of a beautiful palm tree, I heard a female voice, concealed from view by the foliage, exclaim : " Well, you didn't ort to 'ave done it. I told yer as there was a regler run on red," and a male voice replied : " Well, I don't care, I'll 'ave another go this hevenin', if I lose every blessed mag we've brought with us." And in the evening the language of some of the London ladies who play is startling in the extreme. I came away from Monte Carlo at 7.47, carefully concealing the fact that I still had a small sum to the good about me. I was afraid to whisper it to Albert Edward, lest the authorities should hear of it, and send a message to the railway company to make the 7.47 "facultatif" also. But when we were sifely in the train and it had started, I imparted to my companion the newit that I was still 200 francs to the good. Then, his big baby face beaming all over with smiles, he imparted to me the fact that he also had won L3O. I put on a forbidding aspect at once and sternly rebuked him. " You had no right to gamble," I said. " You cannot afford it. You have a wife and family at home in the Walworth road. I wouldn't have taken you to Monte Carlo if I had imagined you would so far forget yourself." "But I didn't gamble," he replied. "I give you my word of honor that I didn't." | "Then how have you won L 30?" Albert Edward looted, cautiously around him, and ' then he whispered in my ear " I made the money by attempting to commit suicide in the grounds. Ha ! ha ! It was not for nothing that I brought that revolver with us !" The wicked, deceitful, artful fellow. What do you think he had done ? I am ashamed of him. I have told him that it was most dishonorable, and ho has promised never to do such a thing again. While I was wildly flinging my five-Franc pieces on red and black, passe and manque, on the numbers en plein, transversale, a cheval and carre, with an occasional plunge on zero, Albert Edward had put on a melancholy and dejected look,' and wandered away into a secluded part of the grounds. As he passed out of the doors he drew cautiously from his pocket the revolver, the wonderful weapon that won't go off. He looked at it for a moment, and as soon as he was sure that one of tho officials had observed him, he replaced it in his pocket and made slowly for a sequestered spot. He heard footsteps behind him ; he knew that he was being followed. Presently he drew the fatal weapon out, and exclaiming, in French: " I am ruined ; here let me expiate my fault," he placed the revolver in his mouth and was about to pull the trigger, when two officials rushed forward and dashed the deadly weapon from his grasp. An explanation was demanded. Albert Edward began to shout out his woes. He had lost his all-all the money lie had brought with him to Monte Carlo. He had not the means of returning to England, and please would they allow him to die in peace. The officials begged him not to shout; they prayed of him to be calm. Matters might be arranged; would Monsieur be good enough to accompany them to the of the administration ? After a bliow of resistance the would-be suicide yielded, and, accompanied by the revolver and the officials, he repaired to the office. There he

met with the utmost politeness. It was absurd for Monsieur to commit suicide. It was not nice conduct. Such things did no good to the suicide, and much injury to the establishment. The papers made capital of it, and cried out for the suppression of the tables. How much had Monsieur lost? "All he had brought with him." How much was that ? "He couldn't say, but all he had ; and he had not tho means to pay hishoteJ bill and get back to England." The administration put on its considering cap and then made a proposition. If Monsieur had the means to pay his hotel bill and return to England would he abandon all idea of suicide ? "Why, certainly." And then, after a little more consideration, Albert Edward found himself in possession of L3O, and tho administration was left congratulating itself on having avoided " another scandal at Monte Carlo." My companion protested to mo that his statement was perfeotly true, so farasit concerned having lost all he brought with him, for he had only sfrancs in his pocket, and he had loßt it. I shan't advise him to keep the L3O, because I don't think it is quite honestly come by. I shall make him present it to a London charity on his return to town. The Monte Carlo people will do anything to avoid a scandal, out as a rule they are more stringent than they were with Albert Edward. The revolver in his mouth was considered by them sufficient evidenco of his bona fide losf. They didn't know what a lump of artfulness they were dealing with. As a rule this is the process. You have lost all your money, and you are in bona fide distress. You go to tho administration and ask for a little assistance to get home. You are asked at what table you played. The head croupier of that table is sent for. Ho recognises you as a player, and probably remembers whether you played heavily or not. Your story being confirmed, you say to what station you wish to proceed. A sum sufficient for your fare and your needs on the journey is then handed to you, and you have to sign an I 0 U for tho amount. So long aa you don't return to Monte Carlo you hear no more of the matter, but if you get back there again you must repay your I 0 U before you are allowed to re-enter the gambling saloons. All the people on the establishment aro trained to remember faces, and it is very rarely that they make a mistake.