Latest / Nero: Mad Tyrant or Misunderstood Emperor? — Fexingo History / Nero's Green Thumb: The Emperor's Botanical Obsessions
Transcript
- Lucas: So we've talked a lot about Nero's building projects — the Domus Aurea, the Macellum Magnum — but there's a whole side of his imperial dream that's literally green. I'm talking about his gardens and his greenhouses. The horti Neronis weren't just a backdrop for parties — they were a statement about his power over nature itself. Lucas: And it wasn't just about looking pretty. Nero had these structures called specularia — think of them as early greenhouses, with translucent stone or mica panels to trap heat. Pliny the Elder mentions them, and they were used to grow cucumbers for the emperor year-round. Tiberius was obsessed with that, but Nero took it further. He wanted the whole world's flora in his back garden. Luna: Wait — cucumbers in winter? How did they manage that without glass? Lucas: They used lapis specularis — a type of gypsum that's transparent enough to let light in. It was quarried in Hispania and shipped across the empire. So you have these frames, like cold frames, with the stone panels angled to catch the sun. And they'd wheel them out on carts to follow the light. It's ingenious, honestly. Lucas: But Nero's botanical ambitions went way beyond cucumbers. His gardeners were importing plants from the edges of the empire — and beyond. Pepper from India, for instance. He had a pepper room in his palace, where he'd mix it with honey and saffron to make this intense, spicy-sweet concoction. It was a flex — pepper was worth its weight in gold. Lucas: There's a guy named Gaius Matius who was a friend of Julius Caesar and a pioneer in horticulture. He wrote a book on gardening, and he's credited with introducing new varieties of apple and fig to Italy. Nero's gardeners likely drew on that tradition, pushing the boundaries even further. Luna: So it's not just wealth — it's like he's trying to own the entire Mediterranean ecosystem. Lucas: Exactly. And it wasn't just for show. Some of those plants had serious medicinal and culinary uses. Pliny the Elder in his Natural History documents dozens of plants that were grown in imperial gardens. He mentions the silphium of Cyrene — that plant went extinct because of overharvesting — and Nero's gardens probably had their own patch. Silphium was used as a contraceptive and a spice. Very precious. Lucas: But here's the darker side. The same gardens that grew roses and herbs also supplied the raw materials for poison. And that's where Locusta comes in. She was a notorious poisoner, a woman from Gaul, and she had a workshop — some say it was in Nero's gardens or nearby. She crafted concoctions from aconite, belladonna, hemlock. And she worked for the imperial family. Luna: Right — she was involved in the death of Britannicus, wasn't she? Lucas: Yeah, that's the tradition. Suetonius and Tacitus both say Locusta prepared the poison that killed Britannicus, Nero's stepbrother and rival. She was, shall we say, very skilled. And Nero rewarded her generously — but he also needed her, so she had a sort of protection. Her garden of deadly plants was as carefully curated as any ornamental bed. Lucas: So the horti Neronis are this fascinating blend of beauty and menace. On the one hand, you have exotic blooms from Asia, aromatic herbs, and the latest horticultural tech. On the other, you have a poison garden that could take out a rival with a single sip of wine. Luna: That's a chilling thought. Did anyone ever walk through those gardens and notice the irony? Lucas: Well, we don't have a record of anyone openly mocking the emperor's garden. But Pliny, who was no fan of Nero, wrote about the luxury of such gardens with a kind of moralising tone. He saw them as a symbol of decadence — turning nature into a commodity for the rich, rather than a source of life. There's a passage where he criticises the fashion for forcing flowers to bloom out of season, calling it a perversion of the natural order. Lucas: And Nero wasn't just collecting plants. He used them as diplomatic gifts. When Tiridates of Armenia came to Rome to receive his crown, Nero presented him with gardens — not just land, but fully stocked, with gardeners and all. It was a way of saying, 'This is what Rome can give you — a piece of paradise, managed by my hand.' Luna: So the gardens were like political tools. They weren't just for pleasure. Lucas: Absolutely. They were a projection of imperial power. And in that sense, Nero was following in the footsteps of Augustus and his famous gardens on the Palatine, but Nero went bigger, more extravagant. He had terraces overlooking the Circus Maximus, vineyards, olive groves, even a zoo. The whole thing was designed to overwhelm the senses. Lucas: And it's not just about the plants themselves — it's the engineering behind them. To keep all this greenery alive in the Roman sun, you need serious water management. Nero's engineers built aqueducts and cisterns, and he had teams of slaves whose only job was to maintain the gardens. It was a microcosm of the empire, with nature shaped to his will. Luna: You know, we talk about Nero's excesses, but this almost seems... visionary? In a weird way. Lucas: In a way, yeah. Some historians see his botanical interests as part of a broader 'Neronian renaissance' — a period of cultural and scientific flourishing, before the fire and the persecution. He was interested in astronomy, geography, even a plan for a canal through the Isthmus of Corinth. So his gardens fit into that picture of a man who wanted to understand and control the world around him. Lucas: But, as with everything Nero, it's intertwined with paranoia and violence. The same greenhouses that grew his prized peaches could also hide an assassin. And in 68 AD, when his reign collapsed, those gardens were among the first things to be looted and destroyed. The mob tore down the horti Neronis, ripped out the exotic plants, and left the greenhouses in ruins. It's like they were trying to erase his botanical legacy. Luna: That's poetic — the gardens that symbolised his power outliving him as ruins. But wait, did anything from his gardens survive? Lucas: A few things, actually. Some of the varieties of fruit he introduced, like the 'Neronian fig', were still being grown in Italy in the 3rd century. And the layout of his gardens influenced later imperial estates — like the one on the Palatine that's now the Farnese Gardens. So his botanical legacy literally took root, even if people forgot where it came from. Lucas: It's a reminder that Nero wasn't just a tyrant or a showman — he was also a patron of science and learning, even if his motives were often self-serving. And in that, he was a product of his time, when the Roman elite were obsessed with conquering nature as much as they were with conquering nations. Lucas: And you know, it makes you think about how we today use gardens and greenhouses as status symbols, too. There's a direct line from Nero's specularia to those giant glasshouses at Kew and Versailles. The desire to own a piece of the world's greenery is a very human impulse, for better or worse. Luna: That gives me a new perspective on him. But I'm still stuck on the poison garden. It's so creepy. Lucas: It is. But it also shows how intertwined beauty and danger were in his court. And that's something that resonates even today — think of all the thriller novels where a botanical garden hides a deadly secret. Nero's garden was the original plot twist. Luna: For sure. And speaking of plots, I love that we're exploring these lesser-known corners of his life. It makes him feel more human, more complex. Lucas: Exactly. And that's what this show is about — digging into the layers. We've covered his coinage, his buildings, his politics. But sometimes it's the little things, like his taste for roses or his fear of a bad harvest, that bring him to life. Lucas: Quick honest thing — a handful of listeners chip in monthly through buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo, and that's literally what funds making this many of these. No ads, no sponsors, just people who like history and want to keep the conversations going. If that's you, it's a small way to help. Luna: Yeah, it really does pay for the research time — I know we spend hours on the sources. It means we can keep going deep instead of just scratching the surface. Lucas: Anyway, back to the gardens. One last thing — the legacy of that botanical ambition can still be seen in Rome today. The very hills that Nero terraced are now covered in parks and vineyards. And every time you see a lemon tree in an Italian courtyard, you're seeing a distant descendant of the trees Nero's gardeners tended. So in a way, his green thumb outlived his reign. Luna: I'll never look at a cucumber the same way again. Lucas: Ha — neither will I. And maybe that's the point. History isn't just in the grand monuments; it's in the everyday things we take for granted. Next time you bite into a fig, think of Nero.