There was once what was practically a regular gaming-house on English soil. This was in the 'fifties, when mild roulette was played on the island of Heligoland. A miniature roulette-table there was much frequented by joyous Israelites and English officers from the mainland. In 1856, however, an outraged English tourist wrote a furious letter to The Times, complaining of such horrors existing under the British flag. He denounced the scandalous desecration of the English name, and so forth; and in consequence the Governor issued an edict against the roulette. Play, however, on a diminutive scale continued there some time longer.
The closing of the gaming-tables in Germany was the cause of many rumours as to the future of gambling enterprise. The Valley of Andorra in the Pyrenees was said to have been selected by some French speculators as the scene of their operations for the ensuing year, a well-known financier being declared to have obtained a monopoly of theatres, hotels, casinos, railways, and almost everything else that this valley lacked and might be supposed to want. There was also a rumour that efforts were being made to start tables at St. Moritz, in Switzerland, very tempting offers having been made to the authorities.
These anticipations were not, however, realised, and Monte Carlo remains the only regular public gaming-place in Europe, though intermittent public gambling has been tolerated at certain Belgian pleasure-resorts, notably at Ostend. Two or three years ago public gaming was altogether prohibited there, but it now appears to flourish much as before. It is almost superfluous to add that when it was announced that the Belgian authorities had determined to suppress all public play there was much enthusiastic congratulation from this country. The usual time-worn phrases as to the demoralising effects of gambling were unctuously presented to a public whose conscience, it was declared, had too long been outraged by the proximity of such a dangerous temptation; and the Belgians were told that they might anticipate reaping a golden harvest as the result of the high-principled attitude which had been adopted, for the English would now be able to visit their pleasure-resorts without fear of contamination.
A large number of the Ostend shopkeepers really believed that the suppression of play would bring more foreign money into their pockets; but they soon realised their mistake, for when the visitors from across the channel found that there was no chance of enlivening their stay at Ostend (a resort of few natural attractions) with a little flutter, they beat a precipitate retreat, and the prosperity of the town began to suffer severely.
Eventually, as the result of serious protest from the local shopkeepers and others who saw ruin staring them in the face, a species of compromise has been adopted; and baccarat with one tableau (of which more anon) is now allowed in the Cercle, election to which is not very difficult.
A short time ago roulette without a zero was here held out as a great attraction to visitors. As a matter of fact this game was only played for a limited number of hours every day, and these were precisely those when visitors would in the ordinary course of events be taking their meals. The game was merely kept going as a lure to the more profitable baccarat, the authorities being well aware that roulette without a zero is unlikely to prove a great source of profit to the bank.
Experience teaches that for some reason not very clearly understood single tableau baccarat would seem to be particularly favourable to the banker. So great, indeed, has been the havoc wrought by this game that the French have given it the name of "La Faucheuse,"—"the mowing-machine"!
Those who cried out so loudly for the suppression of the trente-et-quarante at Ostend have, like so many well-meaning people, done little but harm, for the suppressed trente-et-quarante was a far less dangerous game. Trente-et-quarante, it should be added, is played at St. Sebastian, where up to the present year there was also roulette.
At French watering-places gaming flourishes as merrily as ever during the season. At Trouville, Biarritz, and Aix-les-Bains the game of baccarat forms one of the chief attractions. There is a good deal of high play at Trouville at the time of the races. During the present year one player alone—a very rich gambler fond of high stakes—lost no less than a million francs. No inconsiderable portion of this sum must have gone in the percentage which the French Government now levies upon banks at baccarat. During the last year there was also a great deal of play at Nice, where the game in question was as popular as the classic roulette and trente-et-quarante of Monaco.
It is almost impossible to conceive how the vast majority of French summer pleasure-resorts would contrive to exist were baccarat and petits chevaux to be suppressed, for a certain portion of the large profit derived from play is devoted to the upkeep of the Casinos, which furnish visitors with excellent entertainment. It is, indeed, owing directly and indirectly to the toleration of play that the French plages are proving such formidable rivals to the miserably dull English seaside resorts, which offer so little to visitors who are fond of a little exciting amusement.