Part 16

The Court ladies never left Law alone. One morning, when he was surrounded by a body of _grandes dames_, he was going to retire. They inquired the reason, which was of such a kind as should have silenced them; but on the contrary, they said, "Oh! if it is nothing but that, let them bring here a _chaise percée_ for Mr. Law." When the young king was at play, and the stakes were too high even for his Majesty, he refused to cover them all; young Law (the son of the adventurer) cried out, "If his Majesty will not cover, I will." The King's governor frowned on the boy of millions, who, perceiving his error, threw himself at the king's feet.

The infatuation ran through all classes, and even the French Academy solicited for the honour of Law becoming their associate--this Scotchman was the only speculator they ever admitted into their body.

The evil hour, however, at last arrived; the immense machine became so complicated that even the head of Law began to turn with its rapid revolutions. In 1719 he created credit; but in May 1720, uncounted millions disappeared in air. Nothing was seen but paper and bankruptcy everywhere. Law was considered as the sole origin of the public misfortune, no one blaming his own credulity. The mob broke his carriages, destroyed his houses, and tried to find the arithmetician in order to tear him to pieces. He escaped from Paris in disguise, and long wandered in Europe incognito. After some years, he found a hiding-place in Venice, where he lived, poor, obscure, yet still calculating. Montesquieu, who saw him there, said: "He is still the same man; his mind ever busied in financial schemes; his head is full of figures, of agios, and of banks. His fortune is very small, yet he loves to game high." Indeed, of all his more than princely revenues, he only saved, as a wreck, a large white diamond, which, when he had no money, he used to pawn.

Voltaire saw his widow at Brussels. She was then as humiliated, as miserable, and as obscure, as she had been triumphant and haughty at Paris.

After the collapse of Law's schemes the stream of gaming returned to its ordinary channels, and high play continued as formerly to be the pastime of the _noblesse_, some of whom kept more or less public gaming-tables.

Not, however, till 1775 were public gaming-tables, somewhat resembling those still flourishing at Monaco, licensed in Paris. In that year Sartines, the celebrated "Lieutenant of Police," began to authorise regular "maisons de jeu," the profits of which were in principle supposed to be devoted to the foundation of hospitals, but in reality failed to reach their destined goal of philanthropy. The most popular game played was called "la belle." Certain privileged ladies, it may be added, were accorded permission to preside at the twelve gaming-tables of Paris twice a week. The bankers gave these attractive sorceresses six louis at each sitting, and paid all other expenses. A third day in the seven was set aside for the benefit of the police, who, once every week, ungallantly pocketed the six golden pieces of each of the presiding goddesses, most of whom were battered baronesses and ruined marchionesses, who had petitioned for the somewhat dubious honour of presiding at these _tripots_. Amongst them were Madame de Thouvenère, la Baronne de Gancière, and la Marquise de Sainte Doubeuville. The ladies were generally represented by deputies of the fair sex, who received a fair share of the wages of iniquity. The directors of the gaming-houses in question were as a rule the valets of grand seigneurs, the best known being a man called Gombaud, who acted as cashier-general. The success of the authorised "houses" led to the establishment of rival and clandestine _tripots_. The most celebrated of these private pandemoniums, which were practically "Hells," were kept by Madame de Selle, Rue Montmartre; la Comtesse Champeiron, Rue de Cléry; and Madame de Fonteneille. Rue de l'Arsenal. It was at the last-named place that Sartines, who often visited such places as a private individual for his own pleasure, narrowly escaped the blow of a poniard, on being recognised by a ruined gambler. A good deal of crime and misery was declared to arise from the existence of these gaming-houses, and at length, in 1781, after many suicides and bankruptcies innumerable, they were temporarily prohibited. The main cause, however, was that the brother of a favourite mistress of a pet courtier, after ruining himself and robbing a friend in order to obtain funds with which to play, had put an end to his existence, by blowing out his brains, at a gaming-house kept by Madame de la Serre, Place des Victoires. After this the demon of gaming took refuge at the Court, where shady financiers and well-dressed scoundrels carried on a very lucrative traffic almost under the nose of His Most Christian Majesty. The privileged hôtels of the ambassadors, where the police had no control, became also the _sanctum sanctorum_ of the vampires of that period. In addition to this, after a short lapse of time, the original Golgothas were re-licensed, the game called "biribi" displacing "la belle," and becoming the popular road to ruin of the day.

Biribi is now probably quite obsolete. It was played upon a table which contained seventy numbers, to which there were corresponding numbers enclosed in a bag.

These the banker drew out one by one, the player whose money was on the corresponding number on the table being paid a sum equivalent to sixty-four times his stake. As at roulette, there were a great number of other chances--_pair_ and _impair_, _noir_ and _rouge_, _du petit et du grand côté_, _la bordure du tableau_, _les terminaisons_, and the like.

There were nine columns of numbers, each of which contained eight, with the exception of the middle column, which was the banker's; this consisted of six numbers only, which were considered zeroes.

Unattractive as this game must appear to a more sophisticated generation, biribi became a regular craze.

About this time another epidemic of domestic horrors and public crimes caused the Hells to be denounced to Parliament, which cited the redoubtable lieutenant of police, Sartines, to its bar, and after a good deal of gesticulation and ultra-moral oratory--most of it from those members of the Parliament who themselves kept privileged receptacles of gaming--it was decided that the high court of peers should be convoked, in order that they might deal severely with those minor ruffians, who, in contravention of the laws, carried on clandestine play. The patrician moralists shortly after issued a decree, sanctioned by Royalty, that the bankers of unauthorised gaming-houses should be liable to the _carcan_ (pillory), branding with a hot iron, and the _fout_ (flogging).

After this the licensed Hells carried on their golden commerce in full security, but not entirely without competition, in spite of the aforesaid pains and penalties which were in several cases enforced. A curious and characteristic consequence of such a state of affairs was the use to which certain diplomatic representatives put their mansions, making good, or rather bad, use of the immunity from interference which their office of Envoy conferred. M. le Chevalier Zeno, the Venetian Ambassador, turned his house into a regular casino, admitting any one into it who would play. For those of the lowest degree a particular room was reserved, known to its habitués as "l'enfer." Remonstrances and representations from the authorities were powerless to effect the cessation of what became a public scandal, the Venetian Embassy continuing to be little but a gambling-hell, till the departure of the Ambassador in question.

Three other Ministers also maintained establishments of a similar kind. These were the Prussian Envoy, who resided in the Rue de Choiseul, the Envoy of Hesse-Cassel, whose house was in the Rue Poissonnière, and the Ambassador of Sweden, whose gambling establishment was on the Place du Louvre, at a house bearing the inscription "Écuries de M. l'Ambassadeur de Suède." The somewhat singular methods employed by the enterprising Diplomats in question were very freely commented upon in a report issued by the "Lieutenant de Police" in February 1781, nothing, however, being done to check the scandal. On the contrary, certain members of the _noblesse_, being struck with the pecuniary advantages to be reaped from keeping a gaming-house, followed the example of the Ambassadors, M. le Marquis and M. le Comte de Genlis presiding over establishments of this kind in the Place Vendôme and in the Rue Bergère. It became no uncommon thing for Chevaliers de St. Louis to act as bankers or croupiers. Owing to the decoration they wore they were not subject to the same jurisdiction as ordinary mortals, besides which, many of them were excellent swordsmen. This naturally gave them a great advantage in the case of any protest on the part of the players against the methods employed by the bank, a circumstance which eventually led to a royal prohibition of further gaming enterprises being undertaken by Chevaliers of this Order.

As the stormy days of '89 approached, gambling became more and more prevalent, and during the Revolution, notwithstanding the Spartan austerity which it was declared was to be a characteristic of the new era, gaming was freely tolerated by the authorities. Later, when Fouché assumed the office of Minister of Police, the privilege of keeping gambling-houses was let out as openly and as publicly as the King's Ministers had farmed out the duties upon salt, tobacco, or wine to the "fermiers généraux" of the revenue. Cards of address to gambling-houses were distributed in all parts of France in the same manner as circulars in London. The sum of money which this system of toleration brought into Fouché's pocket reached upwards of ten thousand pounds per month. The Prefect at Lyons, Vermignac, learnt, to his cost, how dangerous it was to meddle with this _lawful_ income of Citizen Fouché; for, having ordered the suppression of all gambling-houses in that city, Fouché represented him in such a light to Bonaparte that he lost the honourable place of Prefect, and was sent, in disgrace, as Minister to Switzerland, a situation no Prefect's secretary would by choice accept, on account of the unsettled state of that country, and the disagreeable and difficult part a French Minister had at that time to perform there.

Besides what the farmers of the gambling-houses paid to Fouché every month, they were obliged to hire and pay 120,000 persons employed in their houses at Paris, and in the provinces, as croupiers, from half a crown to half a guinea a day; most of these 120,000 persons were also supposed to be spies for Fouché.

In 1789, Thiroux de Crosne, Lieutenant de Police, estimated that there were fifty-three houses in Paris where illegal games were played; other authorities of that time gave figures far in excess of this. _Tripots_ existed in the Rue Notre Dame des Victoires, Rue des Petits Pères, Place des Petits Pères, and Rue de Cléry. No. 35 Rue Traversière, Saint Honoré, No. 18 Rue de Richelieu, and No. 10 Rue Vivienne were all well-known gaming places.

In the Palais Royal, however, thirty-one different establishments were ready to allure the votaries of fortune. At No. 33 a man named Dumoulin, who had been a lackey in the service of the Dubarry, acted as croupier; No. 50 was known as the rendezvous of Royalists; No. 113 enjoyed a bad reputation as being the cause of a great number of suicides; No. 36 was very decorously conducted, no woman being allowed to enter its doors, whilst non-alcoholic refreshments and a light beer were alone provided in order that the players should run no risk of exciting themselves.

In order to further safeguard their clients, the proprietors of No. 36 maintained a regular armed guard who effectually prevented the incursion of undesirable characters.

There existed at this period a regular gang of black-mailers, who, headed by a ruffian named Venternière, made a practice of entering gaming places and extorting money from the executive under the threat of creating such a disturbance as to cause the tables to be suppressed. The gang in question were, however, thoroughly routed in November 1793 when making a determined incursion into No. 36. They were very roughly handled, their leader being laid senseless upon the pavement.

A celebrated Parisian gamester at the time of the Revolution was Monsieur de Monville, who was a great deal in the company of the Duc d'Orléans--a Prince whose passion for play was notorious. Whilst the projected arrest of the Duc was being debated in the Convention, this gentleman was engaged in a particularly spirited gambling duel with the regicide Philippe Égalité; the players indeed were so absorbed in their game as to cause dinner to be served on the very table at which they were playing. At this moment Merlin de Douai burst into the room with the announcement of the impeachment of the Duc, who, horror-struck at such news, deplored the ingratitude of his accusers, after the many proofs of patriotism which he had given. Then turning to Monville he cried, "What do you think of such an infamy, Monville?" The latter, whilst leisurely squeezing a lemon over his sole, said in the calmest manner in the world, "It is certainly horrible. Monseigneur, but what did you expect? The rascals have got all they could out of your Highness, who is now of no more use; consequently they are going to treat you as I do this lemon." He then, in the most elegant manner in the world, threw the remains of the fruit in question into the fire-place, remarking the while, "One must never forget. Monseigneur, that a sole should be eaten quite hot."

M. de Monville was a great frequenter of the gambling-rooms over which presided the beautiful Madame de St. Amaranthe, whose tragic fate on the scaffold excited so much pity. The _tripot_ over which she cast her smiles was at No. 50 in the Palais Royal, which has been mentioned before, and was the most luxurious in Paris. It was said, indeed, that it resembled nothing so much as Versailles in the days before the Revolution, and here many Royalist conspirators were wont to assemble. Denunciations of what was described as a reactionary stronghold were being constantly received by the Committee of Public Safety, and the popularity of the presiding goddess of this shrine of chance with the Royalists eventually led to her execution.

The Revolutionary authorities saw reaction in everything, even in playing-cards, and in 1792 they arrived at the conclusion that the kings were but antiquated symbols of tyranny, and attempted to substitute a card called the "pouvoir exécutif" in their place. Players using these new-fashioned cards, instead of speaking of the king of hearts or clubs, were obliged to say the "pouvoir exécutif" of hearts and so on. Citizens Dajouré and Jaume, however, improved upon this, and invented a new sort of pack in which the king became "le génie," the queen "liberty," the knave "equality," and the ace "law." Hearts, clubs, spades, and diamonds were changed into peace, war, art, and commerce. The cards in question, it may be added, made no successful appeal to gamblers, who continued to prefer the sort still in general use. They were, however, extremely prettily designed, and are now reckoned amongst the artistic curiosities produced by the Revolution.

During our war with France some French prisoners at Deal were once rather amusingly rebuked for their anti-monarchical tendencies by a private of the West Essex Militia, which regiment was then quartered at Deal. The man in question had been begged by the prisoners to procure them a pack of cards, which he did when off his duty; but before he delivered the cards, picked out the four kings. The Frenchmen, discovering the deficiency, said the pack was imperfect, having no kings in it. "Why," replied the soldier, "_if you can fight without a king, surely you can play without one_!"

The Palais Royal, called during the Revolution the Palais Égalité, soon became the most famous gambling-resort in the world--to-day it is but a pathetic shadow of its former self. Built in imitation of the Piazza San Marco at Venice by Cardinal Richelieu and bequeathed by him to Louis XIII., the palace in question was in course of time given by the Roi Soleil to his brother and thus became the property of the Orléans family. Fantastically extravagant and crippled by debts, Philippe Égalité first conceived the idea of putting the noble building raised by the great Cardinal to a commercial use, continuing to obtain a very large sum by letting out suitable parts as shops, gaming-houses, and restaurants, some of them of a rather questionable nature.

The Palais Royal, before it contained shops and gaming-tables, had been the resort of all that was most aristocratic in Paris. Walks and flower-beds abounded, whilst on the southern side was an alley of ancient chestnut trees of great antiquity, the destruction of which provoked much indignation and sorrow.

The transformation of the historic palace and grounds into a bazaar effected a great change in the habits of the Parisians, who, without distinction of rank or class, flocked to the spot which, since the stately days of Anne of Austria, had been the evening promenade of good society alone.

Louis XVI. is said, after hearing of his cousin's decision in this matter, to have remarked: "I suppose we shall now only see the Duc d'Orléans on Sundays--he has become a shop-man!"

The Prince in question, however, cared little about this as long as he was able to procure the large sums necessary for his wildly extravagant mode of living. The centre of Parisian activity, the Palais Royal was the incarnation of Paris in the eyes of all pleasure-loving Europe, the famous Galeries de Bois becoming the resort of all the profligate frivolity of a somewhat unbridled age.

The old gardens, sad and deserted to-day, have witnessed some strange scenes in their time. Here it was that one summer's day Camille Desmoulins uttered those burning words which heralded the approach of the Revolution.

It was on the Palais Royal that Philippe Égalité let his eyes linger as the tumbrel bore him through a hooting mob, past the splendid old home which he had once inhabited, to where the guillotine awaited him in the Place de la Révolution--now the Place de la Concorde. From the windows of that self-same Palais Royal, in July 1830, did the son of Égalité look hopefully yet half-fearfully expectant on another mob, yelling and triumphant, which, after storming the Louvre and sacking the Tuileries, came screeching the Marseillaise, roaring "Vive la Charte!" "Vive la République!" "Vive Lafayette!" and most portentous of all for him, "Vive Louis Philippe!" The last cry won the day; and Louis Philippe, Duke of Orleans, went forth from the Palais Royal to become the Citizen King.

Many queer characters haunted the galleries of the Palais Royal. As late as the early years of the reign of Louis Philippe there could on most days be seen there an aged individual who was pointed out as "Valois Collier." He had been the husband of the infamous Jeanne de St. Remy, "Comtesse" de la Motte, who was wont to boast (mayhap with some probability of truth) that a strain of the royal blood of the Valois ran in her veins.

On the side of the Galerie d'Orléans were the famous Galeries de Bois, the resort of all lovers of careless gaiety during the Directory, the Consulate, the First Empire, and the Restoration. In 1815 these galleries were nicknamed, owing to the extensive Muscovite patronage which they enjoyed, "Le Camp des Tartares."

The Palais Royal in its palmy days was the centre of luxury--an emporium of every alluring delight. While its brilliantly-lit piazzas were viewed with real or pretended horror by the austere, it was a very Mecca to the pleasure-seekers of the world. In England the place was often called "the Devil's Drawing-room," it being said that here a debauchee could run the whole course of his career with the greatest facility and ease.

On the first floor were cafés where his spirits could be raised to any requisite pitch; on the second, gaming-rooms where he could lose his money, and salons devoted to facile love--both, not unusually, ante-chambers to the pawnbrokers who resided above; whilst, if at the end of his tether and determined to end his troubles, he could repair to some of the shops on the ground floor, where daggers and pistols were very conveniently sold at reduced prices--every facility being thus provided for enjoying all the pleasures of life under one roof.

Besides the licensed gaming-tables there were also many forms of unsanctioned dissipation in divers subterranean chambers. A number of billiard-rooms, each containing two or three tables, provided further opportunities for passing the time. Women were everywhere, and from about midday till three o'clock in the morning, the galleries of the Palais Royal were thronged by crowds of gaily-attired nymphs ready to lend their aid in charming the dream of life. In the days of the Terror they absolutely dominated the whole place. It was an epoch when many knew that the guillotine was being made ready to receive them, and for this reason were seized with a veritable frenzy to snatch as much enjoyment as possible.

The close connection which at that time existed between illicit passion and death was well typified in the personality of one of the most popular sirens. Mademoiselle Dubois, known as "la fille Chevalier," who was a reigning favourite of the gardens. The girl in question possessed no great beauty, her chief attraction being that her father was the executioner at Dijon, who had sent numbers of people into the other world.

The gaming-rooms were on the southern side of the Palais Royal. To enter them you ascended a staircase and opened the door of an ante-chamber, where several hundred hats, sticks, and great-coats, carefully ticketed, were arranged, under the charge of two or three old men, who received either one or two sous from every owner for the safe delivery of his precious deposit. No dogs were admitted into these sacred apartments, nor anything which was likely to disturb the deep attention and holy quiet which pervaded them! From this ante-chamber opened a folding-door, which led to a large, well-lighted room, in the centre of which was a table surrounded, at a moderate estimate, by two hundred and fifty or three hundred persons anxiously inspecting a game. The salons in the various establishments opened one into another, and in some there were as many as six rooms which contained tables.

At one time a curious condition was imposed upon the proprietors of the gaming-tables. They were obliged to furnish every one who entered their rooms with as much table-beer as they chose to call for. Waiters were therefore perpetually running backwards and forwards with overflowing tumblers of this refreshing beverage--six or seven crowded on a tray.

On the restoration of the Bourbons, public play in Paris continued to flourish with unabated vigour.

There were in 1818:

7 Tables of Trente-et-un. 9 " Roulette. 1 " Passe-dix. 1 " Craps. 1 " Hazard. 1 " Biribi. -- 20

These twenty tables were divided into nine houses, four of which were situated in the Palais Royal.

To serve the seven tables of trente-et-un there were:

Francs. 28 Dealers, at 550 francs a month, making 15,400 28 Croupiers, at 380 " " 10,640 42 Assistants, at 200 " " 8,400

For the nine roulette tables and one passe-dix: