Bidwell's Travels, from Wall Street to London Prison: Fifteen Years in Solitude
observer, despising the fools enraptured with roulette and fascinated
with rouge-et-noir.
But one thing he was not afraid of, and that was spending money. To
compass his business ends he laid it out lavishly, and in the end he
drew all Europe to Wiesbaden. Still broader and still deeper he laid the
foundations of the fortune that ultimately grew to colossal proportions.
But he did not make Wiesbaden famous without keen opposition. He made
the fortune of the beggarly Prince Karl and the whole hungry crowd of
royal highnesses in spite of themselves. At every fresh opposition he
simply opened his purse and a golden shower fell on them.
It required a hard head to withstand the attacks made on him when it
became known that he had bought up both prince and municipality, and
proposed to make Wiesbaden par excellence the gambling city of the
Continent. But, despite of all, he pushed on his plans to wonderful
success. A great park was laid out and stately buildings arose, all
dedicated to the goddess of chance. Slim was the chance the votaries of
the game had in his gorgeous halls. He threw out his money in millions,
but he knew the weak, foolish heart of man, the egotism of each and
every one of us, that leads us to ignore for ourselves the immutable law
of numbers. So he counted upon his returns, and never counted in vain.
As I say, he had a hard head to withstand the attacks made upon him.
Every day the post brought hundreds of letters containing propositions
of threats from people who had lost their money and demanded its return
with fierce threats, pitiful supplications and warnings of intended
suicide, place, date and hour carefully specified, so there could be no
mistake, and more than one attempt was made upon his life. But the
equanimity of Francois Blanc was equal to all adventures. Threats,
prayers, temptations, left him untouched. This man of ice,
self-possessed, cold, indifferent to the ruin of the thousands of
victims of his will, had a fad or fancy. It was for raising red and
white roses, and while the mad throngs were fluttering in frenzy around
the tables in his halls at Homburg, Wiesbaden and Monte Carlo, he, hoe
or trowel in hand, would be training and transplanting his roses,
solicitous over an opening bud or deploring the ravages of an insect;
or, again, refusing all invitations, would sit down with his wife to a
dinner of boiled turnips and bacon, washed down with a glass of Vichy
water and milk. This was the town and these the scenes constantly
occurring there.
Now for my adventure. In 1870, just before the war cloud burst, covering
all that part of the world, I was stopping for some weeks at the Hotel
Nassau. It stands in the main street, opposite the park gate leading to
the Casino. All the world went to Wiesbaden to be amused. However
fashionable frivolity and vice may be elsewhere, here it was strictly de
rigueur, and to pretend to decency and sobriety would be to stamp one's
self a heathen and barbarian, all unversed in the glorious
flower-wreathed Primrose Way of our orb.
The daily routine for the throng began with coffee in bed at 8 a.m.,
then dressing gowns were donned, and the bath in underground floors of
the hotel were sought and a bath had in the hot mineral waters, which
were conducted to all the hotels direct from the hot springs of the
town. Half an hour in the bath, then a light breakfast, preparatory to
sallying out for an hour on the Spaziergang around the Quellen to drink
the water, listen to the band, see and be seen, but, above all, to
gossip and tell lies. At 11 a.m. the gambling began in the Casino, and
with a rush the seats around the tables would be filled. Then speedily
there would be rows behind rows of eager players or spectators, and what
a sight it all was to the cool-headed observer.
With what keen interest all watched the result of the first turn of the
card at the card tables and the color of the first hit at roulette. For
all gamblers are superstitious, and are devout believers in omens. Those
whose luck or pocketbooks held out gambled steadily on, or, if luck
turned against them, would leave the table, go to do some fantastic
thing to change their luck and then return. At 2 p.m. the band (a very
fine one) played in the Musik Saal, and most of the idlers and morning
players gathered there to listen to the music and to drink and dine.
Here in this hall the intrigues begun on the promenade or in the
gambling-rooms were helped along by the ample opportunities of meeting,
with the passions stimulated by the music and the wine. At 4 o'clock
many took an afternoon nap. Then came the chief event of the day, the
ponderous table d'hote. At 9 p.m. every one flocked to the Casino, and
the game went merrily on until midnight. Then to bed, each and all with
more or less Rudesheimer or Hochheimer stowed away.
At the time of which I speak many were my idle days, in which I was free
to seek pleasure. I used to find much enjoyment in frequenting the
Casino to watch the people and to play the role of "looker-on in
Vienna," which, by the way, is a star role and therefore rather
agreeable. One evening while watching the rouge-et-noir I noticed a lady
just in front of me, magnificently dressed in all, save that there was
an entire absence of jewelry. She was literally dressed to kill, and,
although near 50, yet to the casual observer she seemed no more than 40,
or even less. She was a well-preserved woman of the world, and was known
as the Countess de Winzerole. This was the adventuress who had married
Van Tromp some two years before. What a career had been that of this
woman!
She had been mistress from first to last of a dozen men, noblemen,
diplomats, soldiers, but being an inveterate gambler, one after another
saw, with dismay, the cash, estates, diamonds, carriages, costly furs
and laces he showered upon her all go whirling into the ever-open maw of
the Casino, or in the drawing-room games of the bon-ton in Paris or
Petersburg. One brave youth, an officer in the Prussian Guards, had, in
his infatuation for the Countess, and impregnable, as he thought,
against bankruptcy by reason of his great fortune, tried to satisfy her
cravings for splendor of entourage and her infatuation for gambling. The
result was that one day the crack of a pistol-shot was heard in the
Countess' chamber, and the servants rushing in found the young bankrupt
dead, lying across the bed, with a bullet through the heart. The next
day a horde of clamorous creditors besieged the house, where the
Countess calmly told them she had sent for her bankers and on the morrow
they would be paid. That night his comrades buried their dead friend
with military honors. At midnight the cortege passed the hotel, and all
eyes watched the lovely Countess robed in white as she appeared, her
bosom heaving with emotion, while she waved a farewell to her dead
lover. Ten minutes later she fled through the back door and over the
garden wall, falling into the arms of another lover waiting there. He
himself did not go the way of the last, but half of his fortune did; so
one morning, leaving a polite note of farewell, he, taking for companion
the dressing maid of his mistress, embarked for America.
At the time I met her the Countess' reputation was too well known and
her beauty too much fallen off for her to make any more grand catches. A
local banker at Wiesbaden became very friendly. However, the friendship
lost all its warmth when the banker's stout wife one day caught them
together, and having already provided herself with a whip in
anticipation, visited them both with a jealous woman's rage and a sound
thrashing.
Now, the Countess spent her time around the tables, following the
winners and getting douceurs from them. These were by no means
small--most of them being gifts pure and simple, given from mere
goodness of heart or sheer prodigality for there were too many gay and
beautiful women flocking around ready to smile on winners in the game
for the Countess now to make even a temporary conquest. However, at
this period she lived well--even extravagantly--but, of course, saved
nothing. As related, I first met the Countess here at the table where
the game was going on. She had just staked and lost her last gulden. She
was betting on the black, and four times in succession the red had won.
She turned, and looking in my face, implored me to bet a double
Frederick on the red. I instantly placed the money on the red and won.
She begged me to transfer the stake to the black. I did so, and black
won. Placing her hand on the stake, she said: "Sir, leave it; black will
win again." Sure enough, it did. She seized the cash, $80, and handing
me a double Frederick, said in her most bewitching manner: "Oh, sir; be
generous and let me keep this!" I said: "Certainly, madame." She
promptly staked it, and in two turns of the cards it was gone.
We met several times the next few days, but merely bowed without
speaking.
One afternoon, entering the Musik Saal, I took a small table, and,
ordering a bottle of wine, sat down to listen to the music and watch the
throng. The Countess came in, and seeing me alone, came straight to me,
shook hands warmly and sat down. I, of course, invited her to have a
glass of wine. We soon finished that bottle and ordered another. We had
what was to me a most amusing talk. She was a character--had been
everywhere and spoke all the modern languages. She assured me that I was
a very charming gentleman. In paying my bill I incautiously displayed a
gold piece or two, and, seeing she was going to ask me to give her one,
I saved her the trouble by placing one in her hand. In time we became
quite good friends. Twice I paid her board bill in order to rescue her
wardrobe from the clutches of her landlord, and once I saved her from
the hands of an irate washerwoman. When, after a time, I left Wiesbaden,
I left her as gay, as prosperous and as extravagant as ever.
I did not see Wiesbaden again for over two years, but the second week
of January, 1873, found me there. The Prussian Government now ruled in
the town, and refused to renew the license of M. Blanc. It had expired
fourteen days before my arrival. What a change had fallen on the town!
The Casino was gloomy and cold, the gay crowds had fled. All the life
and movement of the street and promenade was forever a thing of the
past. I had located there simply as a precaution, disposing of large
amounts of bonds in Frankfort, fifteen miles away, and returning to
Wiesbaden each night. At this time I put up at the Hotel Victoria, near
the railroad station. One Saturday, going up to Frankfort rather late,
my business detained me until after dark. On reaching the station I
happened to look into the third-class waiting-room, and there I spied a
figure alone that looked familiar. I soon recognized the Countess. From
her appearance and surroundings it was plain that there was now no
wealthy lover at her beck and call. Because she looked so unhappy I gave
her a cordial greeting, which she returned rather wearily. It was very
cold, and I was clad in furs from head to foot; besides, I was,
apparently, on the full floodtide of fortune, having with me then a very
large sum of money, some of which she could have had for the asking.
I said: "Come, Countess; let us go together first class to Wiesbaden."
She replied that she lived at Bieberich, a small town on the Rhine, four
miles below Mayence, and four miles from Wiesbaden. As the train was
starting I bade her good-bye, but asked permission to call on her the
next day. She consented, giving her address as Hotel Bellevue.
The next morning was very cold, but I enjoyed that, so, after a light
breakfast, I started over the hills for a walk to the town, arriving