Then Nerone read the book, and it seemed as if it were poisoned, for
while reading it he perceived as it were an exhalation {89b} from hell.
He read in the book how to commit all crimes and sins, how to seize on
fortunes, or rob whom he would, and learned from it all the secrets of
licentiousness—_tutte cose voluttiose_—and having finished it, he became
a veritable devil.
He collected many lions and tigers, and all kinds of terrible wild
beasts, and then drove among them all the Christians and saints in Rome,
and they were devoured by the beasts. Then he took the fortunes of all
the rich men, {89c} and decreed that all the women in the city were his
wives. After which he every day debauched them in the open streets
before their husbands, and likewise ordained that all men and women
should do the same openly. And he committed even more infamous deeds in
public places, with an orchestra, saying it was best to make love to the
sound or accompaniment of music.
And one day, to make a scene in an opera, he (set fire to and) burned all
Rome.
Then the people made a revolution, and drove him out of his palace. It
is said that this palace was all gilded. (_Era tutto dorato_.)
In a public square was a statue of Seneco, and it was of marble. So the
people in a rage drove Nerone before them until, utterly weary and
exhausted, he fell down at the foot of the statue of Seneco. And
beholding the image of his tutor, Nerone cried:
“_Tu mi vincesti_, _tu mi inperasti_—Thou hast conquered, O Seneco; thou
hast prevailed over me, and had thy revenge! And accursed be the day in
which thou didst send me the book which gave me the power to have all
which I desired!”
And all who were present were astonished when they heard the statue
reply:
“I am avenged, and thou art punished.”
Then a butcher struck him heavily; he gave him a death-wound with an axe,
and Nerone, dying, said:
“If thou hast no shame for having killed an Emperor, thou shouldst at
least blush at having put to death the best actor in Rome!”
Then the ground opened, and there came forth the flame and thunder of
hell, with many devils who howled. . . .
And so did Nero die, who was the most infamous king {90} who ever lived
in this world since it was a world.
* * * * *
Though there are so many authentic traits of the Emperor Nero in this
tradition, the reader is not to infer from them that she who wrote it has
had access to a copy of Suetonius. There is a “halfpenny dreadful,” or
_sou_ shocker, entitled the “Life of Nero”—_Vita di Nerone_—published by
Adriano Salani, the Catnach of Florence, Via Militare, No. 24 (No. 107 on
his catalogue), to say nothing of other halfpenny classical works, such
as the “Story of the Proud Emperor,” “The Empress Flavia,” and the “Tale
of Pyramus and Thisbe,” which, as they are to be found on many open-air
stands, may account for a great deal of such learning in the popular
mind. One may meet daily in Italy with marvellous proof in many forms of
what a strange, curious, confused mass of old Latin lore still lingers
among the people, and the marvellous contrast which it presents to what
the common folk read and reflect over in other lands. But Nero would be
most likely to be remembered, because he is frequently mentioned or
described in popular Lives of the Saints as a great maker of martyrs, and
caster of them unto lions.
This does not belong to the cycle of Virgilian tales, but it was sent to
me as one from Siena. To my collector it was all one, so that it
referred to a magician, and had the idea occurred to the writer, the name
of Virgilio would have been substituted for that of Seneca. Doubtless in
their time, since they began life in India, or Egypt, or Arabia, these
legends have borne many names, and been as garments to the memory of many
sages—even as Buddha in his Jatakas was the first of a line which has
ended in the heroes of European nurseries.
The halfpenny, or _soldo_, or _sou_ ballad of Nero, to which I have
referred, is too curious as illustrating the remarkable knowledge of
classical antiquity still current among the Italian people, to be lightly
passed by. Its title-page is as follows:
“Storia di Nerone, dove si narrano, le Stragi, i Delitti, le
Persecuzioni e gli Incendi commessi da questo infame Tiranno in
Roma”—“History of Nero; in which is told the Murders and Crimes
committed by this Infamous Tyrant in Rome.”
This poem and others of the same stamp are quite as barbarously
classic-mediæval or Romanesque as anything in any of these stories of
Virgilio, and if I cite it, it is to give a clear idea of the remarkable
degree to which strange traditions, and very ancient legends or
“learning,” have lingered among the people. I really cannot understand
why this marvellous survival of old Latin romance, and this spirit of the
Dark Ages among the people, attracts so little attention among literary
people, and especially Italians. For it certainly indicates to any
thinking mind the survival of a great deal of classic tradition which has
never been recorded.