Summary
In an ancient Rome plagued by a curious lack of stringed instruments, Emperor Nero, a figure of capricious whims, finds himself in a comedic quandary. His desire for a 'nice little fiddle' leads to the unfortunate dispatch of his prime minister, first with a bass viol broken over his head, then on a farcical quest to San Francisco for a 'Simon-pure violin'. Amidst this, Nero’s birthday celebration takes an explosive turn, quite literally, with a firecracker-laden cake, a prank orchestrated by the beleaguered prime minister, leaving the emperor frosted and fuming. The narrative then shifts to Nero's bizarre judicial system, a roulette wheel dictating fates, which he freely manipulates to his pleasure. His arbitrary rule is challenged by a strolling troubadour, whose musical talent spares him a sentence and leads to a high-stakes game of craps. Nero, losing spectacularly, finds himself indebted for a billion shekels, a debt he plans to settle via an insurance policy on Rome. With the city ablaze and Nero finally playing his coveted violin, the troubadour returns, revealing the policy’s expiration, thus cementing Rome’s fiery fate as a consequence of imperial ineptitude and a very bad gamble.
Synopsis
Nero had been terribly peeved because at his party nobody had been able to get him a fiddle. His prime minister sent expressly for this purpose and brought back a bass viol, but Nero's heart yearned for a nice little fiddle that he could put under his chin. So he broke the viol over the prime minister's head and sent him to San Francisco to bring back a Simon-pure violin. But before he went, the prime minister added one little burst of enthusiasm to the garden party. He requested as a favor to be permitted to light the candle sticks on Nero's birthday cake. Nero had just met the Bouillon Sisters - three of them - and had taken a great fancy to the youngest one. She gave him her picture and Nero was in ecstasies as the candles were being lighted. But the prime minister had inserted a giant firecracker as the piece de resistance of the cake and just as Nero was having the time of his life, the cake blew into his face. Frosting. The next morning in his judgment hall he was sentencing persons by aid of a roulette wheel upon which various sentences were printed. A turn of the wheel and where the arrow pointed was the appropriate sentence for each culprit. If Nero didn't like this sentence he turned the wheel to the sentence which pleased him more. A strolling troubadour, arrested for disturbing the peace, so impressed the Emperor that he never thought to pass sentence on him. "Will you sell me your fiddle?" said Nero. "No," said the troubadour. "I will gamble the palace for it, then," said the Emperor. And the troubadour and the emperor sat down to a little game of craps in which the emperor came out second best and owing the troubadour a billion shekels. "How will you ever pay?" said the troubadour. "I have an insurance policy on Rome, see me tomorrow." So with the I. 0. U. and with the dice which could only throw sevens, the troubadour left the violin in Nero's hands. That night Rome burned up and Nero played his beloved fiddle while the city went up in smoke. The troubadour, burned out of his lodgings, rushed to the palace and accosted the gaily playing emperor. "How will you pay me what you owe me if Rome burns?" "See this insurance policy," said Nero. "But," said the troubadour, "that policy expires August 27th and this is September 1st." Well, anyway, that's how Rome came to burn.
