Latest / Nero: Mad Tyrant or Misunderstood Emperor? — Fexingo History / Nero's Cithara: The Emperor Who Competed as a Lyre Player
Transcript
- Lucas: So we've covered a lot about Nero — the fire, the persecution, the Golden House, the grain fleet. But there's one side of him that really baffles the traditional Roman mind: his obsession with the cithara. Luna: The cithara — that's like a large lyre, right? Lucas: Exactly. It was a professional instrument, not something a Roman aristocrat would normally play in public. But Nero took it seriously. He trained for years, hired coaches, even had his own voice coach named Patrobolus. Luna: Wait — he had a voice coach? Lucas: He did. And he was obsessive about it. Suetonius tells us he'd lie on his back with a lead plate on his chest to strengthen his lungs, and he'd purge himself to keep his voice clear. Lucas: Now, if you've been following the show episode by episode, you know we dig into these stories because they're weird and human. And that kind of deep dive takes time. 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. Luna: Yeah, it's a small group keeping it going, and that's what lets us spend hours on things like Nero's vocal exercises. Lucas: So back to the cithara — Nero didn't just play in private. He wanted to perform publicly. In 59 AD, he instituted the Neronia, a festival modeled on Greek games, with musical contests. And he entered himself. Luna: As a contestant? The emperor competing against commoners? Lucas: Yes. And that was scandalous. Roman elite culture valued virtus — military prowess, command, dignity. Performing on stage was for slaves and foreigners, not the princeps. But Nero didn't care. He saw himself as an artist, a true citharode in the Greek tradition. Lucas: At the first Neronia, the audience was terrified. They had to applaud rhythmically, on cue, because soldiers were planted in the crowd. Tacitus says people feigned enthusiasm, some even fainted from exhaustion. Luna: So they were forced to cheer for their emperor's singing? Lucas: Exactly. And when the contest was over, the judges — who were ex-consuls — awarded Nero the victory. He was declared citharoedus, or lyre-singer. He even had a statue of himself as Apollo Citharoedus erected. Luna: That's pretty arrogant. But he also performed in Greece, right? Lucas: Yes, during his grand tour of Achaia in 66-67 AD. He competed at the Olympic Games, the Pythian Games, and the Isthmian Games. And he won everything. But it was rigged — the judges were bribed or intimidated. At Olympia, he entered a ten-horse chariot race, fell out, and still was declared winner. Lucas: The Greek audiences, though, genuinely loved him. He was a Philhellene — he gave Greece freedom and tax exemptions. So they cheered him as a true artist. But back in Rome, the Senate saw it as a degradation of the imperial office. Luna: So his artistic ambitions actually hurt his political standing? Lucas: Absolutely. The historian Cassius Dio says that Nero's performances made him contemptible in the eyes of the military. A soldier once wrote to him: 'You sing well, but you rule badly.' And that sentiment spread. When the revolt of Vindex and Galba came in 68 AD, few were willing to die for a lyre player. Lucas: There's also a personal detail. Nero had a favorite cithara player named Menecrates, who taught him. And Patrobolus, his voice coach, was given huge rewards. Nero even built a gymnasium and a bath complex for musical training. Luna: So he surrounded himself with artists rather than senators. Lucas: Exactly. And that was part of his downfall. The Roman elite couldn't accept an emperor who preferred the stage to the Senate. In the end, when Nero fled Rome and was declared a public enemy, his last words were: 'What an artist dies in me.' He was thinking of his art, not his empire. Luna: That's both tragic and fitting. He really saw himself as a performer first. Lucas: And that's the contradiction at the heart of his reign. He had genuine artistic talent and passion, but he had no sense of proportion. He wanted to be both Apollo and Caesar, and in the end, he satisfied neither role.