Travel Tales From The Past: A Venetian Diddler

As an avid reader, I make it a habit of mine to regularly scan through the new additions to that great online collection of public domain books at the Gutenberg.Org website. Currently there are more than 54,000 titles available on the site, and all are free to download (in the ePub and Kindle format), or read online.

Today, on a whim I decided to check out the September 5, 1840 edition of The Irish Penny Journal, and to my delight found the following cautionary tale from a mister Michael Kelly who recounted his experience with a Venetian scammer.

Note: Wikipedia explains that a zecchino or sequin, was "...a gold coin weighing 3.5 grams (0.12 oz) of gold." It was minted by the Republic of Venice from the 13th century onwards.

Oh, and a Capon is a rooster that has been castrated to improve the quality of its flesh for food - although, I hasten to add, not the quality of its sex life! But I digress. Let's get on with our cautionary tale...

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A Venetian Diddler

When in Venice, I had but two zecchinos left wherewith to fight my way through this wicked world. My spirits for the first time deserted me: I never passed so miserable a night in my life, and in shame of my “doublet and hose,” I felt very much inclined to “cry like a child.”

While tossing on my pillow, however, I chanced to recollect a letter which my landlord of Bologna, Signor Passerini, had given me to a friend of his, a Signor Andrioli; for, as he told me, he thought the introduction might be of use to me.

In the morning I went to the Rialto coffee-house, to which I was directed by the address of the letter. Here I found the gentleman who was the object of my search. After reading my credentials very graciously, he smiled, and requested me to take a turn with him in the Piazza St Marc. He was a fine-looking man, of about sixty years of age. I remarked there was an aristocratic manner about him, and he wore a very large tie-wig, well powdered, with an immensely long tail. He addressed me with a benevolent and patronizing air, and told me that he should be delighted to be of service to me, and bade me from that moment consider myself under his protection. “A little business,” said he, “calls me away at this moment, but if you will meet me here at two o’clock, we will adjourn to my cassino, where, if you can dine on one dish, you will perhaps do me the favour to partake of a boiled capon and rice. I can only offer you that; perhaps a rice soup, for which my cook is famous; and it may be just one or two little things not worth mentioning.”

A boiled capon—rice soup—other little things, thought I—manna in the wilderness! I strolled about, not to get an appetite, for that was ready, but to kill time. My excellent, hospitable, long-tailed friend was punctual to the moment; I joined him, and proceeded towards his residence.

As we were bending our steps thither, we happened to pass a luganigera’s (a ham-shop), in which there was some ham ready dressed in the window. My powdered patron paused,—it was an awful pause; he reconnoitred, examined, and at last said, “Do you know, Signor, I was thinking that some of that ham would eat deliciously with our capon:—I am known in this neighbourhood, and it would not do for me to be seen buying ham. But do you go in, my child, and get two or three pounds of it, and I will walk on and wait for you.”

I went in of course, and purchased three pounds of the ham, to pay for which I was obliged to change one of my two zecchinos. I carefully folded up the precious viand, and rejoined my excellent patron, who eyed the relishing slices with the air of a gourmand; indeed, he was somewhat diffuse in his own dispraise for not having recollected to order his servant to get some before he left home. During this peripatetic lecture on gastronomy, we happened to pass a cantina, in plain English, a wine-cellar. At the door he made another full stop.

“In that house,” said he, “they sell the best Cyprus wine in Venice—peculiar wine—a sort of wine not to be had any where else; I should like you to taste it; but I do not like to be seen buying wine by retail to carry home; go in yourself; buy a couple of flasks, and bring them to my cassino; nobody hereabouts knows you, and it won’t signify in the least.”

This last request was quite appalling; my pocket groaned to its very centre; however, recollecting that I was on the high road to preferment, and that a patron, cost what he might, was still a patron, I made the plunge, and, issuing from the cantina, set forward for my venerable friend’s cassino, with three pounds of ham in my pocket, and a flask of wine under each arm.

I continued walking with my excellent long-tailed patron, expecting every moment to see an elegant, agreeable residence, smiling in all the beauties of nature and art; when, at last, in a dirty miserable lane, at the door of a tall dingy-looking house, my Mæcenas stopped, indicated that we had reached our journey’s end, and, marshalling me the way that I should go, began to mount three flights of sickening stairs, at the top of which I found his cassino: it was a little Cas, and a deuce of a place to boot; in plain English, it was a garret. The door was opened by a wretched old miscreant, who acted as cook, and whose drapery, to use a gastronomic simile, was “done to rags.”

Upon a ricketty apology for a table were placed a tattered cloth, which once had been white, and two plates; and presently in came a large bowl of boiled rice.

“Where’s the capon?” said my patron to his man.

“Capon!” echoed the ghost of a servant; “the——”

“Has not the rascal sent it?” cried the master.

“Rascal!” repeated the man, apparently terrified.

“I knew he would not,” exclaimed my patron, with an air of exultation, for which I saw no cause. “Well, well, never mind, put down the ham and the wine; with those and the rice, I dare say, young gentleman, you will be able to make it out. I ought to apologise, but in fact it is all your own fault that there is not more; if I had fallen in with you earlier, we should have had a better dinner.”

I confess I was surprised, disappointed, and amused; but as matters stood, there was no use in complaining, and accordingly we fell to, neither of us wanting the best of all sauces—appetite.

I soon perceived that my promised patron had baited his trap with a fowl to catch a fool; but as we ate and drank, all care vanished, and, rogue as I suspected him to be, my long-tailed friend was a clever witty fellow, and, besides telling me a number of anecdotes, gave me some very good advice; amongst other things to be avoided, he cautioned me against numbers of people who in Venice lived only by duping the unwary. I thought this counsel came very ill from him. “Above all,” said he, “keep up your spirits, and recollect the Venetian proverb, ‘A hundred years of melancholy will not pay one farthing of debt.’”—Reminiscences of Michael Kelly.

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For other cautionary tales of travel scams, read One Ring To Scam Us All, and Another City, Another Scam.

Another City, Another Scam

~ Back in January 2011, I wrote about a Gold Ring Scam I fell for while visiting Paris during the winter of 2010. Recently, I was reminded of the following scam I fell for while visiting New Orleans in 2012. Apparently, it is a well known scam in the city, but unfortunately, I had never heard of it.

While out walking one day I was approached by a local person of doubtful character who complimented me on my boots! I immediately sensed that I was about to be scammed by a panhandler for a dollar or two, but this guy was better than most. He wanted to guess, with absolute certainty "Where you got your boots." I tried to ignore him, and said there was no way he could know where I got my boots, but he was insistent, so I let him guess, since he was quite persistent, and didn't seem to be able to take "No" for an answer.

Sucked in again, Jim!

Of course, he knew exactly where I "...got my boots."

"You got your boots on your feet!" he crowed triumphantly.

With that, he bent down and smeared some gunk on both boots and then insisted on cleaning them for me - for an 'donation' of course. I wasn't too happy about the scam, but took it in good humor when I realised he wasn't alone, and that a couple of friends were providing back up for this con man.

However, my good humor quickly soured when he (and his friends) tried to scam me out of $20 for the so-called 'shoe cleaning', I baulked and gave him $9.00 in small bills, which he happily took. I did have a $20 note, but I was not going to give him that if I could help it. I suspect that if I had only given him $5 he would have been just as happy with that, but what the heck.

I paid because, just like the gold ring scammer in Paris, I should have known better, but despite my Scammer Alert warning system, I still fell for his patter, and for that I needed to pay for my stupidity. I also paid because I had a feeling that his own 'good humor' and that of his friends might also have turned sour very quickly, and I was in no position to defend myself against three men.

Next time - and there will always be a next time - I hope I have the presence of mind and the good sense, to simply ignore the scammer and walk away before they have time to launch into their well rehearsed patter.

By the way, I was in Paris again just last month, and the 'Gold Ring Scam' as I like to call it, is still going strong. This time I was approached by some guy trying to con me while I was visiting the Eiffel Tower, but of course he went away empty handed.

And while I’m at it, if you ever go to Paris, watch out for the young women (and they always seem to be young women), who claim they are collecting money for institutions providing services for people with disabilities of one sort or other (mostly for the deaf or deaf-mutes). Some of them even pretend to be deaf-mutes themselves, but watch them long enough and you will see them talking together as they go about their lucrative ‘business’.

One Ring To Scam Us All

Image: Exhibit A: The One Ring to scam us all…

…

One of the lessons of international travel is learning to be aware of – and deal with – the hundreds of potential scams and scammers waiting to con visitors and locals alike of their hard earned cash. Paris had scammers and con artists aplenty, and while I managed to avoid most of them, I have to admit I did get caught out by one particular scam. So in the interests of public education, and at risk of opening myself up to public ridicule, I have decided to outline the scam here.

I was walking through Place de la Concorde one day, when a pretty young thing suddenly approached me and showed me a large ‘gold’ ring (see image above), and ask in broken English if I had inadvertently dropped it in the snow. Of course I had not, and I told her so.

Since the ring had quite a large diameter, and could easily pass as a man’s ring, she insisted I take the ring, saying magnanimously that it was my “Lucky day”, as she had no use for such a large object. I tried to tell her that I didn’t want or need it, and that she should keep it for herself, but she insisted.

Somewhere in the back of my mind warning bells were ringing, but she was such a pretty young thing that I finally I thanked her and took the ring. And therefore – the bait!

I turned and started walking away, and no sooner had I gone half a dozen steps when suddenly, there she was again. Since it clearly was my ‘lucky day’, she said, could I return the favour and give her a little money in return for the ring?

Still holding the ring in my hand, I offered to give it back to her, but there was no way she would take it. She was more than happy for me to keep it, but asked again if I would be so kind as to offer her something in return. Of course, by now I knew I had been scammed and could have simply walked off with the ring, or simply dropped it in the snow and left her to pick it up. But I didn’t.

Now this may sound like a stupid thing to say, and looking at it on ‘paper’ it does seem completely illogical. But. I figured I had been caught out by my own gullibility and stupidity, and for that, she at least deserved to get something for her efforts, and for the lesson she taught me – which of course, is to not be so gullible and stupid.

I think in the end I ‘paid’ four euros for the useless ‘gold’ ring and I still carry it to remind me to be more aware the next time some pretty young thing approaches me and offers to give me something for nothing!

Postscript: Over the next day or so, I was approached by at least two other (much older) women trying to work the same scam on me. Eventually I got my revenge. Again, I happened to be walking near Place de la Concorde, and noticed one of those women working the scam on a young couple. I approached the group and said something to the effect of, “Ah, how about that. You’ve got one of these as well,” and showed them my gold ring, which was exactly the same as the one the elderly lady was trying to foist onto the couple. As it happens, they had in fact already given the woman some money, but as soon as they realized they had been conned, they took their money back and left the woman holding her useless gold ring.

As the young couple walked off I tut-tutted a few times, and wagged a finger in the old ducks face. The saying: If looks could kill… comes to mind here, and feeling quite smug and just a little self-satisfied with myself, I walked off, leaving the woman to curse her bad luck.