MONTE CARLO.

Pelorus Guardian and Miners' Advocate., Volume 17, Issue 5, 20 January 1903, Page 2

MONTE CARLO.

THE GAMBLER’S PARADISE. ■ —+ — j Yes, and how brilliant the sunshine, even if the shadow be somewhat dark and repellent ! at Monte Carlo you have all the elements of a perfect landscape—the distant inland mountains with their purple haze the groves of orange and olive and le--1 mon, the trailing vines, the multitudes of rich, red, lucious roses, the snowy mansions, and the white gleaming parapets and terraces of the Casino set in relief against a 1 profusion of palms and other forms of sub-1 ropical vegetaion.

Comparatively few of the freI quentors of the famous Casino live at Monte Carlo itself, the majority being resident, for the time either at Nice or San Remo, or some other of the towns on the French or Italian Riviera. It is quite the fashionable thing in Nice to take the afternoon corridor train to Monaco, returning in the cool of the evening, after, let us say, a first-class concert in the magnificent hall, or a display of lire works in- the grounds. The distance between the two places is only about half an hour by rail but if you travel by coach over the famous mountain turnpike known as the Grand Corniche, you will be rewarded with a panorama of surpassing interest and beauty. The railway journey is one of alternate light and darkness—the line skirting the coast and passingthrough innumerable tunnels, and being for that reason sometimes called the “ Flute.” Ever and anon you forge out of the gloom, catch a vista of blue sea and sky, and then forge into the gloom again. Half way between Nice and Monaco is Beaulieu, where Lord Salisbury’s beautiful villa, ” La Bastidu” may be seen high up on the hill, nestling among the trees. Thereafter La Turbie, then Monaco, that strange promonlory, that beautiful ” basket of flowers,” as it has been styled, “ jutting out into the Mediterranean,”

When you reach the Monte Carlo station you find a smoothly-working “ ascensour,” or lift, by means of which, for a few centimes, you may ascend with a minimum of exertion to the terraces above.

THE CASINO

The Casino itself is an imposing structure, visible far out at sea. It has two large facades, one facing inland towards the mountains, the other fronting the gardens, and beyond them the ocean. Stretching from the north facade, with its magnificent flight of steps, is the Place du Casino, studded in the centre

with flowers and palms, and thronged with a gaily-dressed crowd. On the right there is the famous Cafe de Paris, the most cosmopolition spot in Europe perhaps, with its indoor and open-air departments. Here may be seen men and women of all nationalities—English, French, German, Pussian—sipping their tea or absinthe or black coffee and cognac, and listening to a tolerable band playing the latest waltzes. Amid that motley crowd there are certain to be not a few detectives lounging as carelessly as anybody, but keeping an eye on some suspicious or suspected character. It is a well known fact that much ol the rubbish of Europe is ” shot ” at Monte Carlo, and hence the authorities are bound to carefully watch, not merely the professional thiei, male or female but the vagaries of those who have staked, and lost all, and who may be at any moment meditating the final folly of their career. Once or twice it has happened that the strains of that self-same band from the Cafe de Paris have been rudely interrupted by a pistol shot coming from the gardens or the shore beneath, and marking the exit from this world of one of fortune's dupes. On the terrace one meets lynx-eyed attendants in official uniform at almost every turn, but the little cemetery not far off with the nameless graves proves that the best system of espionage does not always prevent the last resort of the unfortunate —suicide !

How strangely pathetic is that I little piece of unconcentrated ground [ and what tragedies are covered by ! those patches of mother earth ! | Strolling through the cemetery one day I saw a lady dressed in deepest black.' and with a face prematurely old and worn, stooping over one of | the little mounds and placing there |a. few white flowers. All the time I her tears were falling fast. Tiie very i angels in heaven must have wept ] with her. 1 All such occurrences are, of course, promptly hushed up by the authorities, and in the balance-sheet of the “ Cercle des Etrangers de Monaco,” as the Casino is ollicially styled, there appears or at ? any rate used to appear, an item —” Subvention to I the Riviera Press.” One may guess i for what reasons this subvention \ was granted. Yet the authorities 1 are generous and humane in their way. They permit a man to ruin himself at their tables ; but when he has reached the very bottom of his ■ purse they, with a curious compas- ' sion provide him with a first-class l ticket home to any spot in Europe, j I fear, however, that the motive for I this, is not of the highest. The ! Directors may not possess sensitive I consciences, but they have a keen ■sensitiveness with regard to the i veriest suspicion of scandal, and, after all, a sudden death is so indecorous. THE GAMBLING HALL. Everyone has heard how careful the Casino authorities are with re- ' gard to the admission of their ” et-

rangers,” r l hen 1 is no entrance lee, but there is a more than cursory

examination of your personal appearance. You mount the palatial staircase, and find yoursell in a

magnificent hall, through which a lashionably-drossed crowd is sauntering. Like the inner rooms the hall is embellished with frescoes and paintings from master hands. To the left a folding door opens into the gambling saloons ; but it is guarded by an incorruptible attendant, who will infallibly bar the way if you cannot produce your little red ticket for admission—” Carte d’admission personelle ’’—which is valid for the day of issue only. I have one before me as I write stamped with the date of issue like a railway ticket, and bearing on the

reverse side my signature recorded at the time of entrance. These tickets can only be obtained at a little bureau off the main hall, where two or three imposing personages sit in state behind a counter, and examine you ( principally with their eyes ) as a bank clerk scrutinises a stranger who presents a cheque for payment.

First of all you deposit your visiting card, which one of the imposing personages carefully handles, generally requesting at the same time the name of your hotel or pension. But woe unto you if your garments do not meet with approval from the official eye ! Nowhere in Europe is a man more judged by the cut of his coat than at Monte Carlo

It is quite a delusion, however, to suppose that evening dress or even a frock coat, is necessary for a gentleman.

As a matter of fact I have seen Norfolk jackets and straw hats in the stream of habitues, although never anything quite so frivolous as knickers, so that, after all, the gassip about Lord Salisbury havingbeen denied the entree for appearingin that somewhat neglige costume may have some foundation of truth.

I know an actual historical case of a clergyman having been denied admittance because of a silk handkerchief lightly drawn over his dogcollar. It was a sharp alternoon, with a keen “ mistral ” blowing, and ho had done it for hygienic reasons ; but no, it was not permissible, and Monsieur must remove his ” mouchoir.”

The reason for all this sartorial strictness is simply the desire of the authorities to keep their “ clientele” as select as possible. Once let the Casino become vulgarised, and smart society with its profusion of golden guineas, would cease to frequent it. A GLIMPSE AT TEE GAMING TABLES. The sight is sad and attractive. The sunshine of Monte Carlo is without, the shadow lies within. After all, this great gambling palace on the shores of the Mediterranean deserves many of the hard things that are said about it.

To one who looks beneath the surface the Casino with all its beauty of situation is somewhat o.f a char-nel-house, not of dead bodies, but of dead souls. No stronger condemnation of the gambling fever could be given than the professional gambler’s face—a face stripped of all that is noble and generous, and invested frequently with a sordid coarseness and brutallity that repels like the sight of carrion.

You can soon detect the various tj'pes of gamblers ; the society man, for instance, who is not very much in earnest about it. He takes the Riviera in February just as he takes the Scotch shootings in September, and he prefers to throw his cash away at the tables rather than into the sea or a sand pit. It amuses him, " don’t you know,” and takes away the infinite ennui of life. Then there is the society beauty who comes down to the Casino in full " decollete ” costume with a ” Don’t you think me dreadfully wicked ? ” air, and stakes her silver ( seldom gold ) with an eye to effect. The croupiers know her—she seldom means business.

Then there is the professional gamster trained in the schools of Baden Baden, Ostend, and Homburg. He takes his gambling seriously, not to say solemnly. He is there the minute the doors are open, and loaves the hot stifling rooms only when the bank closes for the night. Chance and hazard are his gods, and at no shrine is there a more faithful devotee. He it is who not unfroquently shuffles off this mortal coil with the aid of a revolver, He has probably no home that would care to receive him, so his bed of rest is a nameless grave.

“ THE MAN WHO BROKE THE

BANK.”

Several years there was a popular ballad which reached the acme of celebrity on the lips of every whistling messenger boy, about a lucky individual who ” broke the bank at Monte Carlo.” Such a person it need hardly be said never existed. There is only one sense in which the bank could be broken, and that is only for the space of a few minutes. Every day a certain quantity of gold and notes is removed from the exchequer of the Casino for the use of the tables. By a persistent run of bad luck, it may have once or twice happened that this stock has become exhausted, and the play has had to cease, until a fresh supply arrived. As a matter of fact the bank could never be broken. The tables are so arranged that such a thing

would be a mathematical impossibility. But you can’t get every one to see it. Hence the inveterate gamster will continue to run his head against a brick wall. He sometimes comes with a patent system or scheme of calculations, by which he is infallibly to make his fortune and turn the Prince of Monaco out into the world a bankrupt and a beggar, Jinny such systems, along with their too credulous creators, are broken every year on the wheel of fate. Destiny is remorseless as most

habitues of the Casino learn sooner or later to their cost. Yes. there is sunshine and there is shadow about Monte Carlo ! Cod

meant it to be a Garden of iixlen, full of beauty and the fragrance of

flowers, but man has turned it into an Aceldama —a field of blood. Let no one tamper with the accursed vice, even in its simplest and most plausible form. In its ultimate principle gambling is theft. It spells ruin to the life, to the heart, to the soul, and with many that ruin is endless.—“ Peoples Friend.”