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Page 9
In France every man plays at billiards--nay, every village has its
billiard tables, one of which is almost as frequent an article of
furniture in private houses, as piano-fortes are in England; and the
sign of two maces crossed, and the inscriptions "Caf� et Billards" are
as common over the wine-houses in the provinces, as chequers formerly
were in our own country towns. I remember meeting with a curious
adventure during my last residence in Paris. One morning, while
leisurely walking in _Rue Montmartre_, I was accosted in French, by a
respectably dressed man, apparently about fifty, who inquired of me the
situation of ---- street, (for at this moment I do not recollect the
name). I replied that, being a foreigner, I could not afford him the
required information, at the same time referring him to the next shop.
He did not follow my suggestion, but almost at the very instant my eye
caught the name of the street for which he had just inquired. The
stranger then told me that being on a visit to the capital, he was
anxious to see the interior of the palace of the Tuilleries, and was
proceeding to a friend resident in the above street, who had promised to
procure him admission to the royal residence, notwithstanding the king
was then in Paris. I congratulated him on his success, having been, a
few days previous, disappointed in the same object, when he offered also
to procure admission for myself and one or two of my friends. We
accordingly entered a second rate _caf�_, when, I made up to the
_gar�on_ and demanded of him whether orders for viewing the Tuilleries
were to be obtained there: he made no reply, but my friend of the
street, who had by this time partly ascended a staircase at the
extremity of the room, beckoned, and anxiously besought me to accompany
him. I did so, notwithstanding I was aware that Paris, as well as
London, had its "frauds." We entered a large room, the first impression
of which, on some minds, would have been that of terror. In the centre
stood a handsome billiard-table, over which were two dirty lamps with
reflectors; the walls were papered in tawdry French taste, the ceiling
black with smoke, and the whole room but indifferently lighted with a
disproportionate and dusty window: the door, too, seemed planned for
security, having a large lock and two bolts inside, but exhibited marks
of recent repair from violent fracture. In short, there was a lurking
suspicion about the place, which was not lessened by my companion
meeting with a partner. From their conversation I learned they were both
_foreigners_, and were waiting for a friend to bring the orders to view
the palace, so that all the story was as yet in keeping, and I was
introduced as a suitor for the same favour. My fellows "in waiting"
showed much impatience, complained of cold, and politely asked me to
take a glass of liqueur with them, at the same time taking up the mace
and beginning to amuse themselves at the billiard-table. I looked on;
they asked me to join them; I declined, and professed ignorance of the
game; but their importunities became more pressing, and at last
troublesome. Not a word further was said of the palace admission.
I now judged it time to take my leave, and advancing towards the door
for that purpose, I perceived my companions moved also: I profited by
the hint, and seizing the handle of the door, thanked them for their
civility, assured them I could wait no longer, but would call in
half-an-hour--leaped down the stairs, and did not stop till I reached
_Rue Montmartre_. I afterwards learned this was a common _street trick_
in Paris to decoy strangers to the billiard-table, and had I taken the
mace in hand, it would most probably have been at the expense of a good
dinner for my companions, as a smart for my credulity.
A few evenings subsequent to this common-place incident, I strolled into
a house of play in the palais royal, the situation having been
previously pointed out to me by a friend.[1] The entrance was through a
narrow passage by a silversmith's shop, on the ground floor, at the end
of which a strong light shone through the figures denoting the number of
the house, largely cut in tin; alas! thought I, a fatal number to many
thousands. On the principal landing, being that above the _entre-sol_
story, I gently tapped at a handsome door, which was almost as gently
opened. My friend (for I was not alone,) having deposited his hat and
stick with the gar�on, was allowed to pass, but I was stopped for want
of--_whiskers_; till assuring him that I was older than he took me to
be, and an Englishman--I was also permitted to pass. We first entered a
small room, in which was a roulette-table surrounded by players, and
well staked: this communicated by folding-doors with a spacious saloon
with a double table for _Trente-et-un_, or _Rouge et Noir_, round which
were seated the players, behind whom stood a few lookers-on, and still
fewer young men, whose stakes were "few and far between,"--probably
those of cautious adventurers, or novices pecking at the first-fruits of
play. Nothing is better described in books than the folly of _gaming_,
and the sufferings of its victims; but, like Virgil, in his picture of
Heaven, they fall short in describing their extasies; a failing on the
right side, or perhaps purposely made, for the happiness of mankind. The
seated visitors here seemed to be quite at home, some picking up their
Napoleons and five franc pieces, and others recording the issues of the
game, and illustrating the doctrine of chances by pricking holes in
cards. A death-like stillness prevailed, interrupted only by the
monotonous result of the deal of the cards, and the bewitching, though
not frequent chink of gold and silver. The success of the winners was as
silent as the disappointment of the losers; neither joy nor grief
displaying itself otherwise than in an almost unvaried _tristesse_ on
the countenances of the seated players--in some measure produced by ill
health and intense anxiety so as to conceal better feelings. I took my
station at one end of the table beside a middle-aged Frenchman, and by
way of _forfeit-money_ (for _mere_ lookers on are not very acceptable
company) threw a few five-franc pieces, one by one, on the same colour
with his stakes, each of which varied from one to ten Napoleons. After
twelve chances I had lost about thirty francs, but the Frenchman
continued playing, and within twenty minutes rose a winner of three
hundred Napoleons, which the banker changing for paper, he coolly put
into his waistcoat pocket, and walked off. A slight emotion was visible
around the table, but there was no other expression. I had now time to
look around me, and enjoy a little reflection for my foolish risk. It
would be difficult to say whether more anxiety was displayed among the
sitters, or the company at their backs. The attractive _foci_ of all
eyes were the everlasting varieties of red and black, though not
accompanied by the usual grotesque mob of kings, queens, and _knaves_,
the latter being probably excluded by the jealousy of their living
fraternity around the table. A strong and steady light spread over the
faces of all present, and in some few showed the quiverings and workings
of the most intense passion; but the same stare or tip-toe of hope and
fear pervaded the whole assemblage. Some counted their money with
apparent caution, and seemed to divide their winnings from their store
with affected precision, probably with an idea of the winnings being
unfit company for other coin; whilst others listlessly played with their
cash, or in a vulgar phrase, handled it like dirt, the distinguishing
feature of the cold and calculating gamester, to whom money is an object
of secondary concern compared with that of play. In the standing groupe
I remember to have noticed (from his personal resemblance to a friend) a
young Englishman, whom I afterwards learned had been a constant visiter
to that table during the previous three months, and had then won about
two hundred Napoleons. He had just married an interesting woman, about
his own age, twenty-two, and had professedly taken up his degree in the
practice of play, as an elegant and honourable mode of subsistence. A
few weeks after I met him and his wife, on the Italian Boulevards; in
dress he was woefully changed, and in his countenance a ghastly stare,
sunken eye, and emaciated cheeks, bespoke some strong reverse of
fortune: his wife too seemed dimmed by sorrow, and suffering might be
traced in every lineament of her features, notwithstanding the artifice
of dress was tastefully displayed about her person. Alas! thought I, how
often is the charm of wedded life snapped asunder by man--the proud lord
of the creation, and how often by his strong hold on her affections,
does he sink lovely woman still fondly clinging to his disgrace, in the
abyss of crime and guilt.
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