"Edward S——,
"Captain Garibaldi's Staff."
The following is from a Leading Article of the Daily Telegraph, March 10th, 1884:—
"Another suicide, occasioned by losses at the gaming-table, is reported from Monte Carlo, and, commenting upon the sad occurrence, a local newspaper makes the alarming statement that since the 1st of January nineteen similar cases of self-destruction have taken place upon the same spot, the victims having, without exception, been ruined by play. It will be remembered that on the 15th of last month Lord Edmund Fitzmaurice was asked, in the House of Commons, whether the attention of her Majesty's Government had been drawn to the frequent suicides of which the Principality of Monaco had recently been the scene, and whether any remonstrances had been addressed by the Foreign Office to France and Italy, urging those Powers to suppress the last public gaming-tables existing in Europe. The Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs gave the stereotyped answer that no representations had been made by Lord Granville to foreign Powers upon this subject, and there the matter ended. Since the middle of last month the catalogue of suicides at Monaco has been swollen by the addition of five or six further victims to the Moloch of play; nor can it be wondered at if under these circumstances a loud demand that the Casino at Monte Carlo should be forcibly closed has been made, not only by many public writers in France and Italy, but still more by permanent residents upon the Mediterranean Riviera. Thus we read in a powerful article contributed by M. Edmond Planchut to the Revue des Deux Mondes—an abridged translation of which has just appeared in one of our monthly magazines—that the inhabitants of Nice, Mentone, Cannes, Marseilles, and Genoa, and the more respectable members of the foreign colonies scattered along that beautiful coast, are entirely agreed upon two points: First, as to the necessity of protesting without intermission against the immunity conceded to the ever-open gaming-tables at Monte Carlo; and, secondly, as to the expediency of petitioning France and Italy to put a stop to this flagrant scandal. 'It would, indeed, be monstrous,' adds M. Edmond Planchut, 'if it were found impossible to suppress in one of the smallest States of Europe a blighting evil which has been extinguished by the Governments of more important Powers.'
"In April, 1882, many petitions, urging the suppression of the Monte Carlo tables, were presented to the French Chamber, which, in M. Planchut's words, 'passed to the order of the day, after hearing M. de Freycinet's remarks in opposition to the prayer of the memorialists.' A month later the French Senate sent these petitions back to the Minister of Foreign Affairs, with a more or less outspoken endorsement of their prayer. If, indeed, the Governments installed at Paris and at Rome were of one mind upon this subject, there can be little doubt that the fatal Casino at Monte Carlo would not long be permitted to exist. 'And why,' asks M. Planchut, 'should there not be perfect accord between Italy and France on this topic? It is not a question whether France exercises a kind of protectorate over the Principality of Monaco, or whether the House of Savoy still regards the Prince of Monaco as its vassal, despite the circumstance that in 1860 Italy abandoned her rights over his little domain. France and Italy should be animated by one paramount desire—the extinction of these infamous gaming-tables; and, if France believes herself to possess the right of speaking with more respectful firmness than her neighbour to Prince Charles III., it is simply because Monaco is surrounded on all sides by French territory.' The bitter experiences of the season which is now in full swing at Monte Carlo render the present moment peculiarly propitious for demanding the abolition of an establishment which is the head-centre of vice, infamy, and ruin in one of the most exquisitely lovely spots upon the face of the earth. Who that has ever read Lord Brougham's description of what he called 'his discovery of Cannes' can have forgotten his enthusiasm when recounting the myriad charms and attractions of that delicious coast? They had already been recited by Dr. Arnold in a well-known passage from one of his 'Lectures upon Modern History,' which expatiates upon the horrors of the siege of Genoa, and contrasts grim-visaged war with the divine natural beauty of the scene in the midst of which it was carried on by Masséna, who was himself a native of Nice. 'Winter,' observes Dr. Arnold, 'had passed away, and spring returned, so early and so beautiful, upon that garden-like coast, sheltered, as it is, from the north winds by its belt of mountains, and open to the full rays of the bountiful southern sun. Spring returned, and clothed the hill-sides within the lines with its fresh verdure. But that verdure was no longer the mere delight of the careless eye of luxury, refreshing the citizens with its liveliness and softness when they repaired thither from the city to enjoy the surpassing beauty of the prospect. The green slopes were now visited for a very different object. Ladies of the highest rank might be seen cutting up every plant which it was possible to turn to food, and bearing home the commonest weeds of the roadside as a precious treasure.' During that memorable blockade, maintained by the Austrians on land and by the British fleet under Lord Keith at sea, Masséna and the French troops held on grimly to the besieged city of Genoa, until twenty thousand of its innocent inhabitants had perished by that most awful and lingering of deaths, famine. It would be no extravagant estimate to believe that during the fourscore years and more which have since elapsed, the demon of play, enthroned along the whole of the Riviera, has caused as much misery to its hapless victims as the fatal siege of Genoa, which Dr. Arnold selected as exemplifying the direful horrors of which war was the author in 1800.
"M. Planchut has little difficulty in showing to what an extent the cities and resorts in the neighbourhood of Monte Carlo are suffering from their proximity to that pernicious spot. Of its seductive attractions there is no need to speak in detail. The visitors find at its Casino all the best newspapers and magazines of civilization laid out for their amusement, to which are added an excellent theatre, an unsurpassed orchestra, and—'pour comble de malheur'—open tables at which any stranger can play at roulette, or at trente-et-quarante, upon presentation of a card of address. Mentone, says M. Planchut, which is the nearest resort to Monte Carlo, is neither rich, populous, nor luxurious. 'While there has been a surprising increase in the population of Ems, Wiesbaden, and Hombourg since the abolition of their tables, the population of Mentone has scarcely increased by two thousand souls since its annexation by France. Mentone will not be possible as a winter residence for invalids until the tables have disappeared from the littoral.' Nice also suffers, says this caustic French censor, from its proximity to Monte Carlo. 'Unfortunately, people play at the Masséna and Mediterranean clubs in Nice as much as at Monaco. The passion for gambling has permeated all ranks of society at Nice, until it has infected the very tradespeople—has even descended to the humblest poor of its port. Walk round the town on a fête day, and you will see in the old quarters, upon the quays, and in the open air, roulette tables in full swing.' The Masséna Club, anxious to detain wealthy strangers at Nice, and to keep them away from Monaco, finds its gambling-rooms too small, and is extending its accommodation. The result is that the owners of the lovely villas, the luxurious hotels, and the abounding apartments at Nice, Cannes, and many other similar resorts are bitterly complaining of a want of tenants and guests. Prudent fathers of families are naturally slow to take young sons to a city where play rules supreme, and from which Monte Carlo is accessible by trains which never cease running. Still less do they care to expose their daughters to mingling with that crowd of questionable females, coming from all parts of the world, and constituting what M. Planchut calls the 'monde interlope,' which assembles every winter at Monte Carlo and Nice. The inevitable consequence is that 'the value of land increases in proportion to its distance from the Principality of Monaco.' M. Planchut does well to base his demand for the suppression of Monte Carlo upon arguments pointing rather to political economy than the public morality. In England, however, we are bound to remember that within fifty hours of our shores an open gambling-house exists, to the destruction of the peace and happiness of many English families. 'Never,' says the writer of an excellent article based upon M. Planchut's contribution to the Revue des Deux Mondes, 'has the French Government more freely sanctioned lotteries, tombolas, and the opening of tripots disguised as artistic and literary clubs than at present; never has it so completely resigned its control over betting, whether in gambling-houses or the racecourse.' To such a Government it is obvious that arguments founded upon the pecuniary advantages rather than the morals of its sons and daughters should be addressed. How many more suicides will have to take place at Monte Carlo before France and Italy will make up their minds to improve its gambling-tables off the face of the earth?"