Latest / Nero: Mad Tyrant or Misunderstood Emperor? — Fexingo History / Nero's Artistic Ambitions: Charioteer, Lyre, and Stage
Transcript
- Lucas: So, Luna, we've covered a lot of Nero's political and military moves — the Parthian settlement, the Jewish revolt, the fire, the conspiracies. But there's one side of him that often gets dismissed as just eccentric or decadent: his obsession with the arts. Luna: You mean his singing and chariot racing? Lucas: Exactly. But it's more than that. Nero didn't just dabble; he was genuinely devoted to music, poetry, and performance. Suetonius tells us that from childhood, he studied music, painting, and sculpture. He even neglected his imperial duties to practice the lyre and train his voice. Luna: That must have scandalized the Roman elite. Lucas: Absolutely. For the senatorial class, an emperor performing on stage or competing in chariot races was beneath his dignity. It blurred the line between ruler and common entertainer. But Nero didn't care. In fact, he seemed to revel in it. His first public performance was in Naples, around 64 AD, at a Greek-style festival. Naples was a Greek city, so it was a safer bet — the audience was more receptive to Hellenic culture. Luna: And then he brought it to Rome? Lucas: He did. He created the Neronia — a festival modeled on the Greek Olympic Games, with competitions in music, gymnastics, and chariot racing. It was held every five years. The first Neronia was in 60 AD, but Nero didn't perform then. By the second Neronia in 65 AD, he was ready. He appeared on stage as a lyre player and even as a charioteer in the Circus Maximus. Luna: Wait, the Circus Maximus is huge. Did he actually race? Lucas: He did, but not in the regular races. He drove a ten-horse chariot — which was notoriously difficult — and he fell. He didn't finish the race, but the judges still awarded him the victory. Suetonius says the crowd was terrified, but they applauded anyway. It was a staged spectacle, but Nero took it seriously. Luna: So it was all for show? Lucas: Partly. But there's a deeper layer. Nero was a philhellene — he admired Greek culture and wanted to bring it to Rome. The arts were a way to connect with the common people, who loved the games and spectacles. Meanwhile, the aristocracy hated it because it eroded their exclusive status. Tacitus records that the senators felt humiliated watching their emperor act like a common artist. Luna: I can imagine. They must have seen it as degrading. Lucas: Exactly. Cassius Dio tells a story about a man who pretended to die during Nero's performance just to be carried out, rather than listen. Nero had guards posted to prevent anyone from leaving. But the common people — the plebs — they loved him for it. He gave them bread and circuses, literally. He was one of them on stage. Lucas: It's interesting, because we often think of Nero as a tyrant, but his artistic side was genuinely populist. He even composed poetry, though little survives. He had a plan to cut through the Isthmus of Corinth — a canal — which was a huge engineering project, but also a cultural statement. Luna: He really wanted to be remembered as an artist, not just an emperor. Lucas: Right. And that's where the tragedy lies. After his death, the damnatio memoriae erased much of his legacy. But his artistic ambitions were real, and they shaped how he ruled. It's easy to dismiss him as a madman, but his love for the arts was a genuine part of his character. Luna: It makes me wonder: if he hadn't been so obsessed with performing, would history judge him differently? Lucas: Probably. His political reforms — like the fire codes we talked about — were progressive. But his artistic pursuits gave his enemies ammunition. The senatorial sources, like Tacitus and Suetonius, paint him as a narcissist. Yet a handful of listeners chip in monthly through buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo, and that's what funds these deep dives. It's a small group, but it keeps us ad-free and focused on the stories that matter. Luna: It's good to know that there are people who value this kind of history — the nuance, the context. Lucas: Yeah, it really helps. So, back to Nero: his performances weren't just vanity. They were a calculated part of his image. He saw himself as a new Apollo, bringing civilization through art. The Colossus of Nero, a massive bronze statue of himself as the sun god, was placed near the Colosseum. It symbolized his fusion of political power and artistic glory. Luna: That's a bold statement. Lucas: It was. But in the end, it backfired. The aristocracy never accepted him, and after his suicide, his memory was condemned. Yet for a brief moment, Rome had an emperor who wanted to be a star. That's a fascinating glimpse into the complexities of his reign. Luna: I think it humanizes him, in a way. He wasn't just a monster — he was a person with passions. Lucas: Exactly. And understanding that helps us see the full picture. Next time, we might look at how his artistic patronage influenced later Roman architecture and culture.