CHAPTER V.

ITALY, MONTE CARLO, FRANCE, SPAIN, MEXICO, CENTRAL AND SOUTH AMERICA.

Histories, accessible to the author present but few glimpses here and there of the gambling vice as it has prevailed in modern Italy. He found but few allusions to the subject by historians, and only an occasional word in books of travel. However, from what is generally known of Italy, and Italians, it is beyond question that in gaming this people are not behind the rest of their fellow men. In Naples, while under the Spanish dominion, there was scarcely one viceroy who did not issue a decree against games of chance; but all their efforts were in vain, for the governor of the Vicarial Court farmed out the gaming tables to the nobles, the people and the soldiers. The nobility at that time, especially, were passionately devoted to every sort of gaming. When in 1620, A. D., Cardinal Zapata assumed the government, he forbade the further farming of the gaming table by the governor, who complained loudly. This prohibition remained in force, only until a _son_ of the Cardinal was appointed to the gubernatorial office. Thousands of ducats were staked upon cards and dice during this period. In the year 1631, the Duke of St. Agata lost ten thousand ducats at tarocchi. Vencinzio Capece, the natural son of a Knight of Malta, acquired sixty thousand ducats by lending money to be used in gaming. His income, from interest on such loans, amounted to fifteen and even twenty ducats daily. When the Neopolitan people revolted, in 1647, they complained that gaming had been encouraged by the nobility. On the 29th day of July, of that year, the people assembled in groups to visit the gambling resorts—even the Royal Palace was not spared. A mob entered the house of one Belogna, where the nobles of highest rank were accustomed to meet for gaming purposes. “Ye lord cavaliers,” called out one of the leaders, “do you think that you will be allowed to go on with such doings? For what else but to indulge in your evil passions for dice and cards, have you sold the poor citizen to his arch-enemy? For what else have you sold your votes to the Viceroy that he may burden us to his heart’s desire?” The mob then set fire to the house, which was destroyed, together with its contents—household furniture, tables, cards and dice. It has been estimated that more than one hundred gaming houses were at this time consumed by fire. Not only the nobility, but numerous adventurers gained a livelihood at these licensed _redoubts_, (as the gaming resorts were named). For instance, under the Second Duke of Alcala, a Calabrian cavalier, Muzio Passalacqua, kept a house of this character, where the play was so high that Bartholo Meo Imperiali lost sixty thousand ducats in one evening. We are told that during the time under consideration a similar state of affairs prevailed throughout the Italian Peninsula.

The picture given reflects the vices of Italian society, which had then prevailed for more than four hundred years. Sismondi and John Addington Symonds, clearly indicate that during the twelfth, thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, the gaming vice spread amongst all classes of Italians. In the princely castle, the ducal palace, the lowly cot, and even the monastery, dice and other gaming devices held sway. From such views as we obtain from the later Latin historians, of their barbarian neighbors in the north, we know that with their invasion of Italy, was introduced the gaming vice in its most persistent and pernicious features. How prone the modern Italian is to the fascination of gaming, is evident from the papal lottery system as it flourished in all parts of the country.

Passing to the northwest, we reach the little principality of Monaco, and the notorious Monte Carlo. Monaco is now reduced to a square mile or two, but has a malodorous reputation greatly exceeding its political importance or geographical dimensions. Leaving the city of Nice, by train, and passing through a tunnel, you come full upon the beautiful little bay of Villa Franca. Go under ground, again, and you presently emerge upon a rocky headland jutting out into the sapphire, sea. This cape bears aloft the little town of, Monaco. On the extreme southern side of the headland is a deep bay, beyond which, at a distance of less than half a mile, stands Monte Carlo on another and lesser promontory. The bay is lined with hotels, cafes, shops and lodging houses. The famous Casino crowns the slope of Monte Carlo, and contains the gambling rooms, concert hall, and theatre. Near this massive structure are more hotels and the enclosures for pigeon shooting. The walks are shaded by orange trees and cacti, while a velvet turf spreads like a verdant carpet under the trees. All this was the work of the late M. Blanc, who established the Casino and its environs, after his enforced departure from Baden-Baden. But in reality this stately palace was erected, and the surrounding grounds laid out, at the expense of the dupes, the blacklegs, and the courtesans of Europe. M. Garnier, who planned the Grand Opera House, at Paris, designed the architecture of the Casino in its sensuous detail. But this devil’s university of Monte Carlo, with its classic rooms, and chairs for Professors Belial and Mammon, is, in sober truth, the erection of those named. The fortune is always with _roulette and rouge et noir_.

There are six tables in the Casino for _roulette_, where the lowest stake is twenty-five francs. Two _rouge et noir_, where the lowest stake is twenty francs. These tables are always crowded, Sundays and week days alike. Some persons, it is true, make lucky coups, but the majority lose, of course. Some years ago a British dowager won four hundred pounds, and a German two thousand pounds the same day.

By some Europeans, it has been insisted that while Monte Carlo may not have moral or elevating influence, yet men will play, and it is not worse there than at the club. This plea is specious and superficial. The club is private; it is not open to women and children. The mischief that might occur there is not an example for the public, and therefore not contagious. The club does not exist for the sole purpose, and is not supported by the profits of the play. It is not an instrument of wholesale demoralization, as is Monte Carlo. The latter is a curse, a public scandal, and an unmitigated evil. In these times of spirited foreign policy, a more wholesome exercise of diplomacy cannot be imagined for some influential European power, than bringing pressure to bear on France for the extinction of Monte Carlo. It is a disgrace to the French Republic that under its protecting wing this pandering to European vice should be allowed, or that Monte Carlo should be a shelter for the sharpers expelled from other haunts on the continent, there to fatten on the wages and spoils of iniquity. If Monaco and Monte Carlo were cleansed of this blot, they would be among the most alluring resorts of the world. The demoralizing tables, and the vicious crew should not be allied with such delightful scenery and salubrious climate. Let us hope that the report is not true that an American syndicate has offered eight million francs for the right of keeping a gambling house at Taft-chi-dar, Hungary, like that at Monte Carlo.

M. Blanc, now dead, obtained the lease of the place from the Prince of Monaco, agreeing to pay him an enormous rental, one-tenth of the profits of the game, and to defray the expense of maintaining the standing army, the police, and the menials of the principality. M. Blanc’s widow now enjoys the profits accruing from the bargain made by her husband. The games at Monte Carlo are kept running from noon until 11 o’clock at night, every day in the year, Sundays not excepted, and are patronized by the titled and most aristocratic personages in Europe. In the height of the season, from December to April, Monte Carlo is one of the most cosmopolitan places on earth. English, French, Germans, Russians, Americans, Spaniards—all nationalities, almost, are to be seen about its gaming tables. Elegantly dressed women, young and old, some of them the wives, or members of the families, of the most reputable men in Europe; some representatives of the demi-monde mingle with the throng and engage in the play. The interior of the Casino presents the appearance of a grand drawing room feté. Monte Carlo is the last and sole representative of the class of gambling resorts of which Baden Baden, Wiesbaden, Homburg; and Ems, were formerly notable examples.

It is said that the game at Monte Carlo is undoubtedly fair. This may be true. The eyes of the greatest scoundrels in Europe, it is argued, are bent upon the dealers, and that ought to be a sufficient guarantee against any fraud being practiced. But this does not certainly follow. The powers of a Professor of Legerdemain are admitted, and knowing this, it would be childish to guarantee the integrity of any professional gambler.

At the Casino eight roulette and two trente et quarante, or rouge et noir tables, are kept running. Roulette is not played precisely as in America, the player has less odds against him, from the fact that the tables have only one zero instead of two. The heaviest play occurs at the trente et quarante tables. This game is played with six packs of cards of 52 each. Having shuffled the cards, the dealer passes them to the nearest player, sometimes the nearest female player, to be cut. It is a gamblers superstition that bad luck attends the one who cuts the cards, and accordingly the professional often shirks that duty. The pack is not cut as in the United States. The operation consists of inserting a blue card in the sextuple pack. Two rows of cards are dealt on the table, the first representing black and the second red. The ace counts as one, and court cards as ten each, and the tailleur, or dealer, continues to turn cards for the black row until the aggregate number of their spots exceeds thirty. Suppose he deals three “court” cards, or tens, he must deal another. If it is a deuce he calls “_deux_,” and then proceeds to deal the red row, which, perhaps, aggregates thirty-five. “_Cinq_,” exclaims the dealer. The black row being nearest to thirty wins, and accordingly, all who have bet on the black win the amount of their stakes, and the bank rakes in all that has been bet on the red.

Should the two rows tie, on thirty-one, the bank takes half of the stakes, but ties on any other number are considered as a stand-off and the player is free to withdraw or shift his bet, as he pleases. Bets may also be made on “_couleur_,” or “_envers_,” the former winning, when the winning color is the same as that of the first card dealt; and the latter, when it is not. In the time when Baden-Baden and Homburg preserved the air of Paris; when Meyerbeer played at Spa, and while Tamberlik was losing his Louis, _trente et quarante_ was played with a _quart de refait_, which only gave the bank a quarter, instead of a half, of the money on the table, in case of a tie at thirty-one. This was the practice, also, at Monte Carlo, until these other public gambling establishments were closed. These ties, like all other manifestations of chance, occur with great irregularity. On some days there will be scarcely one; on others they will occur with terrible frequency. M. Blanc invented a system of insurance against these ties at thirty-one, and heavy players generally avail themselves of it. It consists, simply, in the player paying to the bank one per cent. of his bet, which being done, the bank does not take any of his stake when such tie occurs. In such case the player pays one per cent. for the privilege of playing a game in which the chances are precisely even.

At Monte Carlo no bet of less than a Louis (four dollars) is taken at the _trente et quarante_ tables, and no bet larger than 12,000 francs ($2,400). The smallest bet allowed at _roulette_ is five francs, and the largest 5,000 francs. On a single number, nine Louis, or 180 francs, is the largest bet permitted. Roulette, compared with _trente et quarante_, is a very unfavorable game for the player.

Formerly, at European gaming resorts, the game was played with two zeros and thirty-six numbers; that is, two chances out of thirty-eight were reserved for the bank. With the advent of M. Blanc at Homburg a more liberal policy was inaugurated, and only one zero was employed. When M. Blanc went to Monte Carlo he made the game still more favorable to the players by taking, when the ball struck zero, only half, instead of the whole of the bets on the colors, odd or even, etc. Including the zero, the Monte Carlo roulette table has thirty-seven numbers, and the player on a single number is paid thirty-five for one. The advantage which the bank has, is easily seen. In backing two numbers with a single bet, one is banking one eighteenth of the table, and is paid seventeen times his stake. In backing four numbers, “_en carré_,” as it is called, he bets on one-ninth and is paid eight for one. Accordingly, as he places his bet, the punter, even though he stakes but a single coin, can play one, two, three, four, or six numbers at once. He can also bet on the first, second or third twelve in the thirty-six numbers, or one of the three columns in which the numbers are arranged on the board, or on the colors, or odd or even, or on what is called “_manque et passe_,” the former signifying the numbers from one to eighteen, and the latter those from nineteen to thirty-six. Betting on the columns, or the dozens, against which the bank pays two to one, is a favorite game for punters, who potter about the room with a handful of five-franc pieces, and struggle all day long to win or lose a Louis or two. Twenty francs is a Louis, in the language of the gamester. However he may bet, the advantage is ever preserved by the table.

Though the games at Monte Carlo are kept running throughout the year, the great rush of visitors occurs between December and April, during which period hundreds of thousands from all parts of the civilized world visit the Casino. Very many stay at the hotels or villas in Monte Carlo, but the majority come and go on the trains from Nice, Menton, San Remo and other Riviera resorts. Particularly is this true of the sports of both sexes, who, for the most part, make Nice their headquarters. The gardens and drives about Monte Carlo are as famous as those of any other Riviera towns, and share, with the Casino, the attention of visitors.

Connected with the Casino is a spacious and richly adorned theater, in which an orchestra of about seventy-five instruments furnish, each afternoon and evening, as fine music as can be heard in Europe. These entertainments are free, and are always crowded. The most stylish hotel and café, the Hotel de Paris and the Café de Paris, which flanks the Casino on either side, respectively, are both under the same management as the Casino. The café, particularly at night, is a gay place, and couples are continually emerging from the “lair of the tiger” to while away a few minutes in the enjoyment of ices and liquid refreshments under the cool awning of the café. This is a favorite resort of the courtesans, who are ever on the watch for men who have made a winning, and who, in consequence, are often in a mood to be lavish in spending their easily procured gains.

In French story and song we read much of the chivalry—the valor and honor—of their Kings and nobles in the days of old.

Here, again, “distance lends enchantment to the view.” If we are to credit the impartial annalist, bad is the pictures of the _noblesse_ in early France, addicted as they were to violence, drunkenness and gaming. In spite of the admonitions of the virtuous St. Louis, his brother was a determined gamester and, while in prison, gambled away his estates. We have it, on authority of Froissart, that the Duc de Touraine, a brother of Charles VI, set to work eagerly to win the King’s money, and was transported with joy, one day, at having won five thousand livres; his first cry was: “Monseigneur, faites-moi payer!” “Please pay me, Sire.” Gambling went on, not only in the camp, but even in the face of the enemy. In their devotion to the practice generals squandered their property and imperiled the safety of their country. While in command of the French army before Florence, under Charles V., Philibert Chalon, Prince d’Orange, lost at play the money with which he had been entrusted to pay the soldiers. As a result, he was obliged to capitulate to those he might have conquered. During the reign of Charles VI, the Hotel de Nesle was made infamous by a series of gaming catastrophes, in which, among the nobility and opulent men of the day, who alone were allowed to frequent it, not a few lost their fortunes and their honor and some even their lives. In the following reign, that of Charles VII, a wonderful reformation in the matter of gambling was effected among the lower and middle classes, and by the preaching of an Augustinian friar, at whose instigation the people lit fires in several quarters of Paris and, with the greatest enthusiasm, threw into them their cards and other gambling instruments. This reformation did not reach the royal Palace and mansions of the nobility, where gaming continued as before, but it seems to have quite effectively checked the gambling mania among the common people for a number of years.

Louis XI, according to Brantome, being desirous, one day, of having something written, called to him an ecclesiastic who had an inkstand hanging at his side, and bade him open it. As the later obeyed a set of dice fell out.

“What kind of sugar plums are these?” asked his majesty.

“Sire,” replied the priest, “they are a remedy for the plague.” “Well said,” exclaimed the king, “you are a fine paillard,” (a word he was wont to use) “you are the man for me.”

Thereupon the king took the priest into his service, for he was fond of bon mots, and sharp wits, and was not adverse to tempting dame Fortuna himself with the dice.

Henry III established card and dice rooms in the Louvre, and information to this effect having been sent to a coterie of Italian gamesters by their representatives in Paris, they gained admission at court and won thirty thousand crowns from the king. Henry III, according to Brantome, was very fond of play, but not through cupidity or avarice. He was wont to play tennis and, if he won, distribute his winnings among his companions, and, if he lost, would pay, not only his wager, but the losses of all engaged in the game. At that time, the stakes were not usually above three or four hundred crowns. Later, play ran much higher, and bets of ten or twelve thousand crowns were not uncommon.

It is related that a French Captain, named La Roue, once offered a bet of twenty thousand crowns against one of Andrew Doria’s war galleys. Doria took the wager, but immediately declared it off, fearing the ridiculous position in which he would be left should he lose. “I don’t wish this young adventurer,” he said, “who has nothing worth naming to lose, should he win my galley, to go and triumph in France over my fortune and my honor.”

Henry IV, when very young and stinted in ready money, used to raise money with which to gratify his growing passion for gaming by sending his own promissory note to his friends with the request that they should cash it, an experiment that almost invariably succeeded, as his friends were only too glad to have the prince beholden to them. The influence of Henry IV was exceedingly pernicious in the matter of gaming, as in other vices. Gambling became the ruling vice, and many noted families were brought to ruin by it.

In a single year the Duc de Biron lost over 500,000 crowns (£125,000). The celebrated D’Audigne wrote: “My son lost twenty times more than he was worth, so that, finding himself without resources, he abjured his religion.” Henry IV was, indeed, the gambling exemplar of France. He was very avaricious, and those who played with him had either to lose or to offend their sovereign.

The Duke of Savoy, it is said, once sacrificed 40,000 pistoles (about £28,000) rather than incur the king’s enmity. The king always wanted “revanche,” or revenge, when he lost, and often used his royal authority in exacting it. The extent of gambling in France at this period was astonishing, and Paris swarmed with gamesters.

Bassompierre says in his memoirs that he won 500,000 livres in a single year, and that his friend, Pementello, won more than 200,000 crowns (£50,000—$250,000). It was at this period that, for the first time, were established “Academies de jeu,” or gaming academies, as they were called. They were public gambling houses, to which all classes of society, even to the lowest, were admitted. Scarcely a day passed without its suicide or scandal arising from the ruin of somebody through gambling.

Upon the accession of Louis XIII the laws against gambling were revived, and a vigorous attempt was made to enforce them. Nearly fifty licensed gaming houses in Paris, which had been paying half a sovereign a day to each of a number of magistrates, were closed. As a consequence of this movement, gaming among the lower classes was checked to a considerable extent, but little, if any, effect was produced upon the progress of the vice among the nobility and the rich, beyond causing the practice to be carried on with much greater secrecy.

It is said that the favorite stake of the Marechal D’Ancre was 20,000 pistoles (£10,000—$50,000). Louis XIII was opposed to gambling, and indeed to all games, with the single exception of chess, of which he was exceedingly fond.

Gambling became furious and universal again under the reign of Louis XIV. The revolutions effected in morals by Cardinal Richelieu were entirely nullified, at least so far as gambling was concerned, by Cardinal Mazarin. He introduced gaming at the court of Louis XIV in 1648, and, according to St. Pierre, induced the king and queen regent to not only countenance, but engage with much interest in various games of chance. Everybody who had expectations at court learned to play cards as a prerequisite to success. Games were often continued all through the night, and the gaming mania quickly spread from the court to the city, and thence to the country. One of the evil effects of this was shown in the marked decrease in the respect shown to women. Under the infatuation of the play they would remain up all night in company with their male fellow gamesters and would give up their honor to pay their losings, or to secure a loan with which to continue the indulgence of their passion for play.

From the time of Louis XIV., gambling again spread among the French people, even the magistrates becoming inveterate gamesters. Cardinal de Retz stated that in 1650, the oldest magistrate in the parliment of Bordeaux, also reputed the wisest, staked his entire property at play one night, and that so general was the gambling mania, the act was in no wise thought to his discredit.

Madame de Sevigne, familiar as she was with all that transpired at the “iniquitous court,” as she calls it, has left more than one picture of the disgraceful state of the gambling habit there present. In the private houses of the crown officials, even the nobility gambled for money, lands, houses, jewels and wearing apparel. Gourville, in his memoirs, writes that within a few years he won more than a million francs, while a few won considerable amounts, many more brought ruin upon themselves and their families.

In addition to the licensed gaming houses, others were maintained in the mansions of the ambassadors and representatives of Foreign Courts. Indeed several gamesters of quality, in fullness of their temerity offered to hire a hotel for a certain plenipotentiary and to defray all expenses incident to the establishment, if he would but permit one apartment to be used for play, and allow their valets to wear his livery. In 1775, Sartines, lieutenant of police, licensed gambling houses in Paris, and directed that the fees thus obtained should be applied to the foundation and support of hospitals.

Women were then allowed to visit these houses two days in the week. So numerous became the crimes, misfortunes and scandals directly attributable to gambling, that it was prohibited in 1778. At court, and in the houses of the ambassadors, however, it continued to flourish, soon the public houses re-opened their doors, and the vice was even more rampant than before, because of the temporary check. Suicides and bankruptcies became so frequent, that the attention of parliament was called to the subject, and it placed the gambling houses under rigid regulations, which the proprietors were forbidden to violate, under penalty of the pillory and whipping post.

Gambling was a conspicuous vice during the reign of Louis XVI. Fouche, the minister of police, received an income of £128,000 ($640,000) a year for licensing, or “privileging” the gaming establishments. These furnished employment for not less than 120,000 persons, and, it is said, they were all spies of Fouche. In 1836, so long, so scandalous and so disastrous had been the rule of licensed vice, that public opinion revolted at a further continuance of the policy, and all gambling houses were ordered closed from January 1st, 1838. Since that time none have been licensed, and gambling in France is on the same footing as in England,—prohibited by law, but protected in secret.

In the French world M. Vernon was both influential and conspicuous in his day. He has given to the world an interesting sketch of gambling in Paris, from the Consulate to 1840. When a young man he sought the allurements of the gaming table, and for several years was addicted to the practice of this vice. His experience as a gamester would be a lesson, in itself, for every thinking man, could it be here given in all its masterly analysis. So elaborate is it, however, that it cannot be given the necessary space.

Under the _regime_ of 1840, M. Thiers, then president of the cabinet, offered M. Vernon several places in the employ of the government. The latter, however, requested the _Maître des Requêtes_. “The thing is impossible,” replied Thiers; “the traditions of the country would not allow an ex-manager of play to such a noble position,” and M. Thiers instanced, among others, a State Counselor, whose name and virtue then commanded the highest respect. M. Vernon smiled and left M. Thiers to his allusion. This very virtuous statesman, like M. Vernon, had been one of the most assiduous frequenters of the gambling houses. One day, thereafter, M. Vernon placed twenty francs on the _rouge_; he won, and was paid by the banker; wishing, soon after, to take up his twenty francs, he found they had disappeared. When the “deal” had ended, a player stepped up to M. Vernon, and said: “See here, Monsieur, here are the twenty franc pieces you are looking for. I took them up by mistake.” This absent-minded player was none other than M. Thiers’ virtuous State Counselor.

Two popular gambling resorts in the Paris of that day were Frascadi’s and the _Circle des Etrangers_. In both places visitors were required to leave their hats with the servants, in the vestibule, for which they were given a check. Servants also brought sugar and water gratuitously; while at Frascadi’s refreshments, in large variety, could be ordered. At the _Circle des Etrangers_, the visitor was permitted to sup with the person or persons he had invited to the resort. In some gambling houses of the lower order, money upon personal credit was loaned to the patrons by the inmates. At Frascadi’s and the _Circle des Etrangers_ as well, large sums were loaned to known players without a receipt. Such loans were always recompensed at the will of the borrower. One could bet as low as ten cents in some houses of the second and third class, but at _roulette_, as a rule, the first stakes could not be under two francs, and at _trente et un_, the first stake could not be less than five francs. In all games, the first or the highest doubling stakes, could not exceed 12,000 francs. All gambling houses opened at noon and closed at midnight. At the _Circle des Etrangers_ gambling commenced at eight o’clock only on the days that dinners were given, and on all other days at ten o’clock. At Frascadi’s and the _Circle des Etrangers_ suppers, were occasionally given, with balls.

“I often met at one resort,” said M. Vernon, “a literary man with powdered hair, who in his lucky bets, would rejoice over his winnings in Latin. He was a poor wretch, and the least loss would make him penniless. One day he touched me on the shoulder and led me out into the hall: ‘See here,’ said he, ‘take this Persius and this Juvenal, and give me forty cents.’ I refused to pay less than a dollar for these two Latin poets. His joy was excessive, but in half an hour he returned to me, and putting his hand in his pocket said, ‘take that pair of black silk stockings, and give me what you please.’ I had consented to diminish his library, but I would not consent to wear his old clothing.”

“At one time a young man, who was about to be married, came up from the provinces with 1,500 francs to purchase his wedding gifts. He returned home, at the end of the week, empty-handed, having lost everything at play. His fiancee, on learning the facts, broke the engagement.

“The bank is not completely protected from swindlers. Two young men entered Frascadi’s one evening. One staked on the _rouge_ fifty Louis d’or in double Louis. The other staked on the _noir_, the same sum in similar coins. The _rouge_ won and the fifty Louis were paid. The stakes and money won were immediately taken away. The banker took up the stakes lost on the _noir_, and saw that these double Louis were merely forty cent pieces well gilded. The player who had won had instantly departed. The other was arrested, whereupon, he was not at a loss for argument. ‘I did not say,’ he said, ‘that I staked fifty Louis. I have not given you counterfeit money; nay I lost a hundred francs. It was your business to be more careful about paying the party beside me.’ The affair ended here, and the bank lost its 900 francs.

“A celebrated general invented a trick which still bears his name. One day, during the empire, he staked at the _Circle des Etrangers_, at _rouge et noir_, a small rouleau sealed at both ends, which looked exactly like a rouleau d’or of 1,000 francs. After he lost, he took up the rouleau and gave the bank a thousand franc notes. He won, and said to the banker who in turn offered him a thousand franc notes, ‘I beg your pardon, I staked more than that.’ He opened the roll, and drew out of the midst of some gold pieces it contained, fifteen or twenty thousand franc notes. The general was paid, but the lesson was never forgotten, and no one was allowed to play except with his money open and with limited stakes.”

Before 1779, public gaming was authorized in France, but was afterwards abolished. Under the Consulate, Fouche farmed out the gambling privileges to a certain Perrin, and enjoined him especially to open a _Circle des Etrangers_. However, this offer was not gratuitous. Benazet, who was a farmer of the gambling houses during the Restoration, said that Perrin gave to Fouche fifty Louis d’or every morning without taking a receipt. Not satisfied with this, Fouche frequently made police drafts on him of ten or twenty thousand francs.

The _Circle des Etrangers_ frequently gave balls, known as the _Bals Livre_. During the Directory and under the Consulate, _Bals_ were all the rage. Baron Hamelin, Madam Tollien, and indeed all the distinguished ladies of society were invited to these _Bals_. During the Consulate and the first days of the Empire, Napoleon, in company with Duroc, one of his most intimate generals, visited them for a few hours, on several occasions, both being masked. The president of the _Circle des Etrangers_ barely allowed Perrin to show himself. If the unanimous testimony of all contemporaries of the Directory and the Consulate can be trusted, nothing can give an idea of the pleasures, the brilliancy and the intoxication of this period of revival.

Perrin, who was made colonel, in order that he might deal Pharaon before the queen without offense, was succeeded by Chalabre. Marie Antoinette played Pharaon nearly every evening at the Tuilleries, at Versailles and Trianon. Subsequently, the farming of the gambling houses was public, and the four successive farmers were M. Bernard, Chalabre, Boursault and Benezet. In every respect Chalabre was a man of the old _regime_. He powdered, and was a man of fine manners. Boursault, on the contrary, was a man of the times, with a marked face, heavy voice, violent and passionate. He made himself heard, perhaps applauded, in more than one club during the Restoration. It was his aim to participate only in that which gave large profit. He therefore contracted for the mud, for the night-soil and for the gambling houses of Paris. His house was splendidly arranged, and he had also a rare collection of plants and flowers, which in those days were a luxury. Benazet, the last farmer of the gambling houses, was an ex-attorney, a man of talent and enterprise, and both obliging and generous. At the revolution of July, he was elected the commandant of one of the legions of the National Guard of the environs of Paris. He was subsequently appointed chevalier in the Legion of Honor. When alone with his intimate acquaintances, they called him the “Emperor.” At the Cheque office of the Theatre _Francais_, they invariably said to him “Mon Prince.”

While M. Benazet was farmer, all the gambling houses in Paris were open. Said M. Vernon, “the leases each contained the following provisions. The farmer paid the treasurer by equal monthly instalments, the annual sum of 5,500,000 francs. Upon this sum appropriated to the city, the Minister of the Interior, and under the Restoration, the Minister of the King’s Household, received annually, and by equal monthly instalments the sum of 1,660,000 francs, as an appropriation to the theatres and other places of amusement. The Minister of the Interior took from it also a good deal more money for the political refugees, or the disasters in the department, and for charity and all sorts of misfortunes.

“The expenses of the gambling houses were fixed in the lease in the sum of 2,400,000 francs. The farmer also received out of the net receipts 100,000 francs as his interest, and was obliged to have always either upon the gaming tables or in his safe, 1,219,000 francs. The result of gambling per day, and per gaming table was stated in a formulated journal. The total capital at the beginning and at the end of the gambling, was written in the presence of the cities’ controllers, and showed the net proceeds. The ninth article of the lease stated that all expenses of the administration to the annual sum of 5,550,000 francs appropriated to the city being there paid, should further be appropriated to the city, all the net profits when there were profits, one-half when the total annual net profits did not exceed 9,000,000 francs belonging to the farmer. On the 31st day of December, 1837, the gambling houses of Paris were closed by vote of the Chamber of Deputies. From 1819 to 1837 the gambling houses cleared from 6,841,838 francs to 9,008,628 francs per year, making a grand total from 1819 to 1837 of 137,313,403 francs, and the money of foreigners formed a greater part of this sum.”

Gambling was universally prevalent in Paris during 1829-30, and the houses were very numerous and varied in character. Of the higher order, were the Salon and Frascadi’s; specimens of the lower class were to be found in the Palais Royal. The Salon and Frascadi’s were on the Rue Richelieu, near the boulevard. They were of pretentious appearance, externally, and magnificently furnished. They pretended to be exclusive and to admit only such as were vouched for by some person of recognized standing. Access was not difficult, however, and at Frascadi’s particularly, admittance was rarely refused to those who were decently dressed. This most popular resort opened for business at one o’clock. Rouge et noir, roulette and dice, were played in different rooms, the first named being most popular. In addition to the elegant furnishings of the establishment, which included everything conducive to the comfort and convenience of the patrons, the directors provided another feature “for the good of the house.” They admitted a number of the demi-monde, and, in fact, encouraged their presence. The beauty, rich toilets and engaging manners of these females were an attraction to young men, who would not otherwise have visited the establishment.

These women played more or less, and naturally their example was followed by the rich scions who sought their favor. Five francs was the smallest, and 12,000 francs the largest wager permitted at Frascadi’s. These rooms were frequented by the nobleman, the mechanic, and the loafer, provided their apparel was tolerably presentable. A large proportion of the patrons were foreigners, the English predominating.

The lower class of gambling houses, in the Paris of that time, were supported mainly by mechanics, clerks, draftsmen, and the like, men whose character would have been ruined had it been known that they were addicted to play, and who would not have gambled, probably, had not the law thrown its protecting arm around the gaming dens.

In an English work on ecarte, the author says of gambling in Paris: “In no capital of the world, are the exigencies of the needy and dissipated made more an object of speculation than in Paris. As for our Jews, or usurers, they are not only honest, in comparison, but far inferior, both in their number and in their practices, to the wretches who are everywhere to be met with in the French capital, ready to advance their money at an extortionate interest, provided the security afforded by the parties is such as to preclude all possible risk. With the natives of the country themselves, these people are not only limited in their advances, but scrupulous to a nicety in regard to public credit, since, as by the loss of friends, a debtor for a term of confinement not exceeding five years, is entitled to his liberty, and becomes exonerated from any pre-existing claim, it not infrequently occurs that those who are heavily laden with debt, prefer to be incarcerated for a few years, to giving up property which constitutes their whole fortune and the means of their future subsistence. The money lenders keep a regular list of names noted down in their books, to which, in cases of necessity, they usually refer and advance or withhold in proportion as their employers have been more or less forward in their liquidation of former engagements. This caution has only reference to the gay and dissipated of their own country. But with foreigners, and Englishmen in particular, the case is widely different, for upon these they have a hold which is equal to all the mortgages and freehold securities in the world, being in the event of defalcation almost certain of the debtor and for life.

“But the principal auxiliaries of these people are the dashing, splendid females, who frequent the salons d’ecarte. Although the greater number of these women have independent incomes, and form attachments for young men, they usually meet in these haunts, without any view of personal interest. Still there are many who are often without any other gifts than those afforded by their natural attractions, and on whom the irresistible impulse of play operates a desire to produce, in any possible manner, the means of gratifying their favorite propensity. Most of these also have some sort of liaison, either with their own countrymen or with strangers. When, therefore, as the natural result of the play and lavish expenditure of his chere amie of the moment, the immediate finances of the young man are exhausted, and he has no longer the means of gratifying his favorite passion, or of conducing to the amusement of the mistress, she kindly suggests the possibility of his procuring a sum of bills on such and such terms. These are ever in favor of the money lender, and furnished with the necessary powers, she instantly repairs to one of them and bargains for a present for herself in proportion to the amount required. Then when the money is all expended, either wholly ruined, or what is nearly the same thing, thrown into St. Pelagie, at all events, unable to command further resources, the young man can no longer please his fair enchantress; she forsakes him without the least ceremony, and looks out for some other lover whose prospects are yet in a flourishing condition. Very frequently these women have for their lovers young men moving in the first sphere of Parisian society, yet rendered nearly as indigent as themselves from play, whose credit with the money lending race has long been ended.”

Gambling in Paris is carried on mainly in resorts of three distinct kinds,—regularly established clubs, places called “clubs,” but which are open to the public solely for gambling purposes, and the illegal gambling houses. At all the clubs properly so-called, play runs high. Strange as it may seem, at first thought, the danger of being cheated is greater at these “clubs” than elsewhere, for the reason that occasional visitors do not suspect dishonest methods in such a place. Knowing this, sharpers manage to introduce themselves and then fleece the members as rapidly as is possible, without exciting suspicion. This cannot be so readily accomplished in the so-called “clubs,” which are maintained solely for gambling, owing to the constant watch maintained by the crooks, sharpers and professionals who frequent these resorts. The same state of things prevails at the illegal gaming houses. The French are quite as fond of gambling as they ever were, though there has been a change in the manifestation of the propensity. They now seem to gamble more for pleasure than gain, and to prefer games of the simpler sort. In betting they are excitable like the Italians, but show better judgment. The English surpass them in coolness, and the Americans in shrewdness and audacity.

The most approved methods of cheating are practiced in the Paris gambling dens. One is by arranging a “chaplet,” that is, putting the cards into the deck in some particular order, the succession of which is retained by the memory of the dealer; “stocking” the cards, as it is called in the United States. The collusion of a card room attendant is necessary to affect this. With a “chaplet” the dealer knows, of course, what each card is before it is turned. Dealers have been known to obtain an unfair advantage by having on a table in front of them a highly polished snuff box, or cigarette case; which, serving as a mirror, enables their quick and practiced eye to catch the reflection of the cards, as they are dealt.

In American parlance, the same device is called a “shiner.” The time honored fraud of “ringing in a cold deck” is still occasionally practiced, and the utmost watchfulness does not always prevent it. The dealers are sometimes the losers at this game, for, through bribery, or otherwise, sharpers now and then succeed in having attendants supply decks of marked cards. An instance is told of a sharper who obtained a supply of marked cards of fine quality and then succeeded in selling them in large quantities to persons who supplied such goods to gaming establishments. Waiting until the cards were in use, the sharper won many thousands of dollars before the fraud was discovered. From time to time the same trick has been successfully played in many parts of the United States.

M. Des Perriers, it is stated, once saw a friend of his playing ecarte with a stranger and after watching the game for awhile perceived that his friend was being cheated. Watching his opportunity Des Perriers warned his friend of the fact, and the latter coolly replied “Oh that’s all right, I know perfectly well that he is cheating me, but it is agreed that every time I catch him at it, I shall score an extra point.” This recalls the story of the game on a Mississippi river boat, wherein one friend warned another that the latter was being cheated by a certain gambler in the game. “Well, what of it, Isn’t it his deal?” the friend replied.

The number of celebrated Frenchmen who have been ruined by gambling is great. Of the number were Coquillart, a poet of the 15th century, Guido the great painter, Rotrote, Voiture, M. Sallo, counselor to the parliament of Paris, and Paschasiur Justus, a celebrated physician. Montaigne and Descartes, the philosophers and Carden the scientist, were all gamblers at one stage of their life, but each succeeded in conquering the passion.

Previous to the reign of Louis XIV., women could not gamble openly, and retain their reputation. If it was known that they were addicted to play, they lost caste. Before the end of the reign of Louis XV., the wives of aristocrats, generally, played heavily in their own houses without exciting much, if any, adverse criticism; and, by the close of the last century, gambling among women of the higher classes was almost universal and viewed as a matter of course. It has been often remarked that with the so-called respectable there has been less honor among women gamesters than among men; many of them, indeed, not hesitating to claim unfair advantages, and even to engage in downright lying and cheating. Many women of wealth and title have by heavy losses at the gaming table, been brought to a state of desperation and degradation most surprising. Instances have been numerous where they have sacrificed their virtue in order to obtain money with which to continue the indulgence of their passion for play. Cases are not unknown where they even sacrificed the virtues of their own daughters to the same end. The beautiful Countess of Schwiechelt, it is said, after losing 50,000 livres at Paris became so desperate that she resorted to the robbery, of a friend, Madame Demidoff, in order to repair her losses. The latter possessed a magnificent coronet of emeralds which, at a ball given by her, was stolen by the Countess, who next day proceeded to raise money with the coronet as collateral. She was detected and convicted of the crime. She had many influential friends who tried to induce Napoleon I. to pardon her, which he steadfastly refused to do.

Towards the close of the Reign of Napoleon III., the circles or clubs, became greatly demoralized by card gambling. Heavy play, which had been confined chiefly to the mansions of the rich, places of considerable privacy, began to be common at the clubs and be talked about in public. Disregard for the gambling laws gradually increased, until after the Franco-Prussian war, and numerous “clubs” were organized solely as gambling resorts. The authorization of the Prefect of Police was necessary, whenever a circle or club was started, and one of the stipulated conditions was, that no play for ready money stakes should occur at such club. It is unnecessary to say that this regulation is now scandalously ignored and that the authorities wink at the infraction. Baccarat is the favorite game at these resorts, as it is in the more aristocratic and legitimate clubs of the city. In this connection, by way of illustration, the following experience of a once prosperous founder of one of these circles, or clubs, told by himself, is interesting:

“I had never been in a gambling club in my life,” he said, “until one evening in 1872, a friend took me to the circle de —— in the Place de l’Opera. I had a capital dinner and a cigar of the first choice, and after this everybody went into the card room. “Cincq cents louis en banque,” (five hundred louis in the bank) were the first words I heard, and then I watched the people play. I understood nothing of Baccarat at that time, and my friend had to explain to me how it was played, how much the different counters were worth, and how the man sitting in the centre of the table opposite the dealer, and passing the cards to the players with a sort of lath, and paying out counters or raking them up after each coup, was an attendant, called a croupier, specially engaged for the purpose of conducting the play. I was struck by seeing this croupier at each bank, about every ten minutes on an average, drop several counters, representing a louis each, into a small slit in the table within easy reach of his hand. “Why is he doing that?” I asked my friend. “That is the percentage which the house takes on the banks,” he replied, “ostensibly for the use of the cards. That slit you perceive into which the money is dropped is called the “cagnotte.” Not wishing to play myself, and having nothing else to do, I thought I would see exactly how much the croupiers would put in this “cagnotte” within a given time, and I found that in an hour twenty-nine louis had been levied on the various banks. “But at this rate,” I said to my friend, “the house must take in an immense lot of money in the course of a few months.” “Rather,” he replied. “It is one of the greatest money-making concerns in the world.” “And how do they manage to start these clubs?” I asked. “Well, you see, it all depends upon the Prefecture; if you can only get an authorization you will find any number of capitalists to give you what money you want to carry on your club with.” I said nothing, but I determined to get an authorization for a club myself, if I could. I spoke about it to some of my friends—you must know that I was then a fabricant de brouges, and got my decoration just after the war for having allowed them to convert a lot of my bronzes into a cannon for the defence of Paris—I spoke to my friends, and we formed a committee, and then I waited on the Prefect’s secretary with a document setting forth that a few commercial gentlemen of the —— arrondissement wished to open a club where they could meet after the business of the day, etc. “Yes, but you are sure you will have no cards?” said the secretary, “Monsieur le Prefect won’t hear of gambling.” I said: “Only a little Piquet, perhaps, or ecarte; nothing more.” Well, after waiting a few months I got my authorization, and then that scoundrel, Theodore, who cheated me out of seventy thousand francs later on, come in with capital as cashier. Ole Z., the usurer, came in too, and we took that apartment on the boulevard—only 16,000 francs rent. We sent out our invitations to the press, and to the leading players, and gave a grand dinner for the opening night. Well sir, you may believe me if you like, but we made 12,000 francs cagnotte in that one evening, and the first year I made 300,000 francs for my share, and ought to have had more, only Theodore and Z. swindled me. But then, of course, I had to play; I had to keep the game going, and the luck was always against me. I had to sell out my share in the club. I lost that, and now you see where I am.”

“It was unnecessary for the narrator to finish for the one to whom he was speaking knew “where he was.” He had gambled away nearly a million francs in four years and exhausted his credit, and finally had been forced to take a position as “commissaire des jeux,” or steward in another den similar to the one at the head of which he had formerly prospered. He had dealt “banks” at a thousand or two thousand louis, and won and lost time and again a hundred thousand francs in a night. Now he was receiving in his menial position only a few guineas a week and his one consuming desire was to wager these at the table as soon as he got possession of them. This was not easy to do, for the commissaires are expected to refrain from playing. But he managed it in some way or another and invariably lost them before the evening passed. During the rest of the week, until his next wages were due, his only pleasure consisted in rehearsing to whoever would listen to the experiences of his halcyon days.”

Many men of like experience are to be found in the baccarat clubs of Paris. Some are in the height of their short-lived prosperity; the greater number, however, are wrecks. The class includes unsuccessful speculators on the Bourse, ex-government officials, and men who have failed in the legitimate callings in life. Gambling dens, the world over, are peopled by a horde of broken down, disreputable, and degraded beings, and those of Paris are not an exception.

So profitable to their managers are these baccarat clubs, that it is not surprising their number increased rapidly, until, at one time, there were nearly a hundred of them, the majority of which occupied pretentious and well-appointed quarters, until, a few years ago, in obedience to public indignation, an attempt was made to close them up. Many were compelled to shut their doors, but, as the movement was not thorough, a score or more remained, defiling and corrupting the best quarter of the city, prospering the more because of the diminished competition. As a rule, these clubs bear high-sounding names, not calculated to arouse suspicion in the mind of a stranger of the iniquitous business going on within their walls. The Cercle des Arts Liberaux, Cercle des Arts Industriels, Cercle des Artistes Dramatiques; such were and are specimens of these names. Standing side by side with clubs of genuine respectability, are some of these dens, in which it is unsafe to leave anything of the slightest value in an over-coat pocket. As a rule the baccarat clubs are managed with great shrewdness. Rules regarding entrance fees and dues exist, but merely that they may be cited when necessary in support of a claim that these institutions partake of the character of genuine clubs. “Members” are rarely asked for either fees or dues. Invitations by the hundred are sent to frequenters of the boulevards, and each one is given to understand that he may take his friends. Practically, these cercles are open to all who have money. Emissaries, known variously as rabatteurs, racoleurs, or rameneurs, or, as the English would call them, “bennets,” frequent public places, in order to specially invite rich foreigners and greenhorns with whom they may become acquainted. Journalists are always welcomed and treated handsomely, in order that they may puff the musical or other attractions offered, and that they may refrain from exposing the real character of the places. Elaborate dinners and luncheons are served at nominal prices; the rooms are richly furnished and adorned; there are reading rooms, containing a wide range of current literature, and writing rooms replete with all that convenience could suggest; liveried attendants, deferential and polite to a nicety, attend to all possible wants, and, in short, almost every conceivable attraction is provided. Those who enter and, amid all these seductions, resist the temptation to play, are exceedingly few, and to play is to lose. Visitors naturally infer that they are in the private club house of a company of gentlemen. The elegance is substantial enough, but the company in reality is largely composed of genteel scoundrels and thieves, who scruple at no dishonesty, provided the chances are fairly against detection.

These Paris clubs are exceedingly demoralizing, not only to the members and visitors, but to their attaches. Hundreds of persons, employed at first when mere boys, as pages, and rising (rather descending) to be croupiers, dealers, cashiers, etc., and gradually acquiring the desire to own houses and carriages, and keep mistresses, can attribute their ultimate ruin to these dens.

Dishonest playing is probably more rife in the Paris clubs now than ever before, and is carried on with skill never before equaled. Once in a while, as in the case of the very “respectable” Cercle de la Rue Royale, an expose is made of a system of cheating that has been pursued for months, perhaps, and for a week or two all Paris talks of the scandal. If the truth were known it would be found that similar practices obtain in nearly every gambling club. Only collusion between a menial, a croupier, the dealer, and perhaps one or two others, is necessary for marked cards to be introduced. Those in the secret, divide the ill- gotten profits and detection is not probable, unless a quarrel arises over the division of plunder. Cheating at baccarat is general, and organized bands of sharpers scour the cities of Europe, reaping a rich harvest from each one. The mechanism and methods of cheating at gambling have been perfected wonderfully within the last twenty or thirty years, as the reader of M. Hector Malots’s novel, “Baccara,” can well understand, and nowhere has this perfection manifested itself to a greater extent than in Paris. That Gambling is having a most demoralizing effect in Paris is indisputable.

The time is ripe for a reformation in Paris, and many are praying that it may come soon and be sweeping and thorough in character.

The Spaniards are as much addicted to gambling, at least, as any nationality. There is a tradition that they were once very liberal in their gaming, and Voltaire says: “The grandees of Spain had a generous ostentation; this was to divide the money won at play among all the bystanders of whatever condition.” Montefiero tells of the liberality of the Duke of Lima, Spanish minister to the Netherlands, who, when he entertained Gaston (brother of Louis XIII), with his retinue, was accustomed, after dinner, to put two thousand louis d’or on a large gaming table, to be gambled for by the Prince and his attendants. Such open-handedness certainly does not characterize the Spanish gamester of this day. He is as greedy as any gamester, judging from appearances. Gambling in Spain is general, and has always been practiced more openly than in other European countries. “I have wandered through all parts of Spain,” writes a traveler, “and though in many places I have scarcely been able to procure a glass of wine, or a bit of bread, or any of the first conveniences of life, yet I never went through a village, however mean and out of the way, in which I could not have purchased a pack of cards.”

The nobility of Spain, for centuries, have been especially addicted to gambling. Not a few of this class, indeed, are said to live from the proceeds of the gaming table, and that, too, without any apparent loss in reputation. The condition of things in Spain thirty years ago, is thus described by another traveler: “After the bull-feast, I was invited to pass the evening at the hotel of a lady who had a public card assembly. This vile method of subsisting on the folly of mankind is confined, in Spain, to the nobility. None but women of quality are permitted to hold banks, and there are many whose faro banks bring them in a clear income of a thousand guineas a year. The lady to whom I was introduced is an old countess, who has lived nearly thirty years on the profits of the card tables in her house. They are frequented every day, and though both natives and foreigners are duped out of large sums by her, and her cabinet junto, yet it is the greatest house of resort in all Madrid. She goes to Court, visits people of the first fashion, and is received with as much respect and veneration as if she had exercised the most sacred functions of a divine profession. Many widows of great men have kept gaming houses, and lived splendidly on the vices of mankind. If you be not disposed to play, be neither a sharper nor a dupe you can not be admitted a second time to their assemblies. I was no sooner presented to the lady, than, she offered me cards, and on my excusing myself, because I really could not play, she made a very wry face, turned from me and said to another lady in my hearing, that she wondered how any foreigner could have the impertinence to come to her house for no other purpose than to make an apology for not playing. My Spanish conductor, unfortunately for himself, had not the same apology. He played and lost his money—two circumstances which constantly follow in these houses. While my friend was thus playing the fool, I attentively watched the countenance and motions of the lady of the house. Her anxiety, address and assiduity were equal to that of some skillful shop-keeper, who has a certain attraction to engage all to buy, and diligence to take care that none shall escape the net. I found out all her privy counsellors, by her arrangement of her parties at the different tables, and whenever she showed an extraordinary eagerness to fix one particular person with a stranger, the game was always decided the same way, and her good friend was sure to win the money. In Madrid one is scarcely welcome in polite society, unless he engages in play, and, it may be added, unless he loses much more than he wins. In the capital there are resorts where all classes meet and play together. In these places the tables are managed by suspicious looking men, who insist that you will be almost certain to win, if only you engage in play: They even go so far, in inviting you to play, as to assert that they themselves do not play for gain but for pleasure.”

Gambling is perhaps more distinctively a characteristic of the Latin races than of any other. Not only is it almost universal in Spain, but it seems to cling to Latin blood wherever it is found, however much it intermingles with that of other peoples. In Mexico, Central America, and the countries of South America, gambling thrives as in the mother country. “Chusa,” dice, cards, and lotteries are the principal means of indulging the vice, but there are many other devices and games in use. The lottery is an especial favorite, and no Mexican, Nicaraguan or Brazilian neglects taking one or more chances of getting a fortune in each drawing, as it occurs. Gambling in these countries is carried on with more publicity than in England, France or Germany. In none of the Spanish Republics on our South, is it acknowledged as one of the most debasing and ruinous vices to which humanity is addicted; indeed, by many, it is scarcely thought to occupy a place among the vices at all. It is regarded scarcely to the injury of a person’s reputation that he gambles, and it will doubtless be many years before serious attempts are made in these countries to suppress the evil.

In this connection may appropriately be appended a picture drawn by a tourist in Mexico, a Mr. Mason, illustrative of the gambling propensities of the Spanish Americans in that country. He writes: “This, being Easter Eve, was the first of those days especially set apart for gaming and idleness, and at about nine o’clock I went to the Plaza—an open space near the church—where I found many hundred people already assembled to amuse themselves. A large circle, surrounded by spectators and dancers, was especially set apart for fandangoes, which, whatever they may be in Spain, are in the New World much inferior in grace and activity to the common American dances, though the latter, it must be confessed, are usually to the sound of tin pans and pots and empty gourds. Here the music was somewhat better, though not less monotonous, and consisted of a guitar, a rude kind of harp, and a screaming woman with a falsetto voice. Beyond the fandango stood a range of booths beneath which men and women of all descriptions, old and young, rich and poor, officers in full uniform and beggars in rags, were gambling with the most intense interest, and individuals who, from their appearances, might be considered objects of charity, were fearlessly staking dollars—some even venturing a handful at one time. The favorite game was called “Chusa,” which is played on a deep saucer-shaped table, and resembled the “E. O.” of England.

“When the oppressive glare of the sun had ceased, and the cool evening breezes set in, Donna Francisca announced to me her intention of visiting the “Chusa,” and invited me to accompany her. She walked there in good state between Don Antonio and myself, preceded by her three servant maids, one of whom was in her Indian dress and had charge of the cigars for her mistress. We found our way to the largest gambling table, at which Francisca, having elbowed some ragged women off the only bench in the place, established herself in full play. Even ladies with mock jewels, and women of all shades and colors, with every variety of mien, crowded around their favorite game, and my landlady having succeed in getting the balls in her hands, became entirely occupied in throwing them, with such gestures, or turns of the arm, as, in her opinion, would insure success. Before leaving the Plaza, where Francisca remained playing until nearly daylight, I made my way through the crowd to take a last peek at her, and saw a fellow to whom I had paid a real (the eighth of a dollar) in the morning for sweeping before my door, and who was almost in rags, standing beside my fair friend, acting as banker to the table, at which I suppose he had been successful. He ventured his dollar at every turn with the most perfect sang froid. The apparent indifference to losses, and apathy when successful, is very remarkable with all classes of Mexicans, but they gamble so incessantly that I should conceive all excitement in this dangerous fashion must be deadened and that love of play at last becomes a disorder, rather than an amusement. I have frequently seen a couple of poor porters, who had not a farthing of money, sit gravely down in the dust with a greasy pack of cards, and anxiously stake their respective stock of paper cigars until one or the other became bankrupt.”

This picture of life in Mexico is typical of all Spanish America.