Latest / Nero: Mad Tyrant or Misunderstood Emperor? — Fexingo History / Nero's Last Days: Flight, Suicide and the Emperor's Ghost
Transcript
- Lucas: You know, for all the grand schemes and the Golden House and the Olympic dreams, Nero's end came in a squalid little villa, with the sound of horses outside and a dagger he couldn't quite bring himself to use. Luna: That's such a dramatic contrast — the man who built the Domus Aurea dying in a suburban hideout. Lucas: Exactly. And it's a story that has everything: betrayal, a midnight flight, a botched suicide, and then — because history loves a sequel — a legend that he wasn't really dead at all. But before we get into that frantic June night in 68 AD, I want to say something quickly. For anyone coming with us through these conversations about Mediterranean history, this show exists because of listeners who chip in a little. A couple of dollars a month on buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo genuinely keeps us ad-free and researching. It's not a big ask, but it makes a real difference. Luna: Yeah, it's what keeps these deep dives possible. So, back to that night — what happened right before he fled? Lucas: So, by early June 68, the revolt that had started with Vindex in Gaul had snowballed. Galba was declared emperor by the Senate, and Nero's own Praetorian Guard — his personal bodyguard, the people who owed everything to him — abandoned him. Their prefect, Nymphidius Sabinus, promised them a massive donative from Galba, and they switched sides. Luna: So he woke up one morning and his army was just… gone? Lucas: Pretty much. Suetonius describes Nero waking up from a nap to find the palace nearly empty. His guards had melted away, even the bed linens were stolen. He wandered through the Domus Aurea calling for help, but no one came. That's when he decided to flee. He put on a rough cloak, mounted a horse, and with just four or five companions — including his secretary Epaphroditus and the eunuch Sporus — he rode out through the Servian Wall to the villa of his freedman Phaon, about four miles outside Rome. Luna: I remember Tacitus saying he was terrified but also theatrical about it. Lucas: Exactly. Even in his panic, Nero couldn't stop performing. As he passed the Praetorian camp, he heard soldiers cheering for Galba — and he muttered something about the sound of a flute player being a better death omen. Then when they arrived at Phaon's villa, the ground was rough, so he crawled through a briar patch into a narrow opening. At one point, his cloak caught on thorns, and a passerby asked if anything was wrong. His companion, the freedman Phaon, said it was just a slave trying to escape punishment. Luna: So even in disguise, he's the emperor hiding in the bushes. Lucas: Yes. Once inside, the villa was cramped and dark. He lay down on a cheap mattress, but refused to eat the coarse bread they offered. Meanwhile, news came that the Senate had declared him a public enemy and ordered him to be seized and killed in the old way — stripped naked, his head clamped in a fork, and beaten to death with rods. Luna: That image is horrific. No wonder he decided to take matters into his own hands. Lucas: Right. He ordered his companions to dig a grave and gather wood for a pyre, all the while weeping and saying 'Qualis artifex pereo' — 'What an artist dies in me.' But he couldn't bring himself to do the deed. He kept asking for someone to set an example, and finally his secretary Epaphroditus guided his hand to the dagger. With help, he stabbed himself in the throat. A centurion arrived just then, pretending to save him, but Nero was already dying. His last words were 'Too late! This is fidelity!' Luna: So he died with a kind of bitter theatricality, still playing the tragic hero. Lucas: Exactly. His body was cremated by his nurses — or some say by his mistress Acte and her friends — and his ashes were laid in the family tomb of the Domitii Ahenobarbi on the Pincian Hill. Then came the damnatio memoriae. The Senate erased his name from monuments, his statues were defaced, and the Colossus of Nero was reworked into a statue of the Sun God. But here's the thing: the people didn't forget him. For years, his tomb was decorated with flowers, and a cult of Nero redivivus sprang up. Luna: The legend that he would return. I've heard about the Pseudo-Neros — there were at least three impostors, right? Lucas: Yes, multiple. The first appeared in 69 AD, during the chaos of the Year of the Four Emperors, and was supported by the Parthians. Another turned up in 80 AD under Titus, and a third around 88 AD under Domitian. Each claimed to be Nero returned from the east, ready to reclaim his throne. The belief was so persistent that some early Christian writers even wove it into apocalyptic prophecy — that Nero would return as the Antichrist. Luna: It's amazing how a man who died so pathetically could become such a powerful ghost. Lucas: It really is. And it's fitting for a man who spent his life curating his own image. The legend of Nero's return lasted for centuries, long after the actual man was a pile of ashes in a family tomb. Luna: So in the end, even his death couldn't escape his own mythmaking. Lucas: Exactly. And that's what makes his story so enduring — the gap between the real, flawed emperor and the monstrous or messianic figure of legend. Thanks for coming along on this episode of Fexingo History. We'll keep digging into the shadows and the lights of the ancient world.