Latest / Nero: Mad Tyrant or Misunderstood Emperor? — Fexingo History / Nero the Artist: Did He Perform for the People?
Transcript
- Lucas: You know, we have done so many episodes on Nero — the fire, the conspiracy, the persecution, the building projects — but there's one side of him we've barely touched. The artist. Luna: The artist? You mean the singing and acting stuff everyone makes jokes about? Lucas: Exactly. It's easy to laugh at the image of an emperor prancing around on stage, but Nero took his art very seriously. He was obsessed with the cithara — that's a kind of lyre, a stringed instrument — and he trained relentlessly from his youth. Suetonius tells us that he would lie on his back with a lead weight on his chest to strengthen his lungs, and he'd do vocal exercises every day. Luna: Wait, he actually practiced like a professional? Lucas: Absolutely. He even had a personal voice coach, a man named Terpnus, who was a famous citharode of the day. Nero would hang on his every word. And he didn't just practice in private — he performed. First in the palace, then in public. In 59 AD, he inaugurated a new festival called the Neronia, modeled after the Greek Olympic games, with musical and theatrical competitions. And he entered himself. Luna: Wait — he competed and judged himself? Lucas: Well, he didn't judge, but he performed. And the audience was expected to applaud in a very specific, choreographed way. Suetonius says there were claques — groups of knights and soldiers trained to applaud in rhythm. If you didn't applaud enthusiastically enough, you could get in trouble. But here's the thing: Nero was actually pretty good. Or at least, he wasn't inept. He studied composition, he wrote poetry, and he cared about technique. The problem was that for a Roman emperor, performing on stage was deeply undignified. In Roman tradition, the only people who performed in public were slaves, freedmen, or social outcasts. An emperor doing it was scandalous. Luna: So he was bucking centuries of social norms just to sing. Lucas: Exactly. And he didn't stop at Rome. In 66 AD, he went on a grand tour of Greece, where he performed at all the major festivals — the Olympic Games, the Pythian Games, the Isthmian Games. And he won every single competition he entered. Of course, the judges were terrified of him, but he also genuinely loved Greek culture. The Greeks, for their part, were more accepting of a performing ruler — they had a tradition of artist-kings going back to Alexander the Great. So Nero was hailed as a new Apollo, a god of music. Luna: Did he actually have any talent, or was it all rigged? Lucas: That's the big question. Our sources are all from the senatorial class, and they despised him. Tacitus barely mentions his performances, and when he does, it's with contempt. Suetonius is more detailed but still mocking. The only positive account comes from Philostratus, writing a century later, who says that Nero's singing was actually quite good — but he was writing a fictionalized biography of Apollonius of Tyana, so take that with a grain of salt. What we do know is that Nero took his art seriously enough to train for years, and he had enough technical knowledge to compose music. He also had a huge ego, so he probably believed he was brilliant. But in terms of actual ability, we just don't have recordings. Luna: So we're left guessing. Lucas: Pretty much. But there's another layer: performance was also a political tool. By performing for the people, Nero was bypassing the Senate and connecting directly with the masses. The plebs loved it — they got to see their emperor up close, singing like a demigod. It made him popular with the common people, even while the aristocracy sneered. And in the Greek East, his artistic persona was a huge hit. He even freed the province of Achaia from Roman taxation, supposedly because the Greeks appreciated his talent. That was a huge deal. Luna: He freed Greece from taxes because they liked his singing? Lucas: That's what he claimed. He made a speech at the Isthmian Games in 67 AD, declaring that the Greeks were free — a gift from Nero, the artist-emperor. It was a revival of the old Greek autonomy that had been lost for centuries. Of course, it didn't last long after his death, but at the time, it was a massive propaganda win. He was presenting himself as a philhellene, a lover of Greek culture, in contrast to the stuffy Roman senators who only cared about military glory. Luna: So the artistic side was part of his whole image. Lucas: Exactly. And it wasn't just music. He also loved chariot racing — he drove chariots himself, though again, that was seen as beneath an emperor. And he had a passion for theater. He acted in plays, often in tragic roles, and he even wore masks. He was especially fond of playing female roles — which scandalized the elite even more. But again, the crowds ate it up. He built a permanent theater in Rome, the first of its kind, which was later torn down after his death. The Domus Aurea, his Golden House, also had a huge theater space. Luna: Wait, he built a permanent theater? I thought Rome didn't have permanent theaters until Pompey's? Lucas: Pompey built the first permanent stone theater in Rome in 55 BC, but it was technically a temple with steps that just happened to look like a theater. Nero's was a proper theater, and it was controversial because the conservative senators thought permanent theaters would corrupt public morals. Nero didn't care. He wanted a venue for his performances. And he got it — the Theater of Nero, which was later destroyed and built over by Trajan. Luna: So he was really pushing boundaries. Lucas: Absolutely. And that's what makes him so fascinating. He wasn't just a tyrant or a madman — he was a complex figure who genuinely loved the arts and wanted to be seen as a cultural innovator. But his methods were heavy-handed. He forced senators and knights to attend his performances and applaud on cue. If they didn't, they could be punished. Some people faked illness or even death to get out of it. There's a story about a man named Vespasian — the future emperor — who fell asleep during one of Nero's performances and got into serious trouble. Luna: Vespasian fell asleep during Nero's singing? Lucas: According to Suetonius, yes. Vespasian was a praetor at the time, and Nero was so furious that he banished him from court and banned him from attending future performances. That's one of the reasons Vespasian ended up in Judea, which eventually led to his rise to power. So Nero's artistic temperament had real political consequences. Luna: So Nero's singing indirectly led to the Flavian dynasty? Lucas: You could argue that. If Vespasian hadn't been exiled, he might not have been in Judea when the Jewish revolt broke out, and he might not have become emperor. So in a weird way, Nero's artistic vanity helped shape Roman history. Luna: That's wild. Lucas: It really is. And speaking of wild — there's one more detail. Nero had a huge statue of himself as Apollo Citharoedus — Apollo with a lyre — placed in the vestibule of the Domus Aurea. It was 120 feet tall, the Colossus of Nero. After his death, it was reworked into a statue of the sun god Helios, and later, Hadrian moved it to make room for the Temple of Venus and Roma. The Colosseum actually gets its name from this statue — the Colossus. Luna: So the Colosseum is named after a statue of Nero as a musician? Lucas: Exactly. The Flavian Amphitheatre was built on the site of Nero's artificial lake, but the nickname 'Colosseum' came from the gigantic bronze statue of nero as apollo nearby. So every time someone visits the Colosseum, they're indirectly reminded of Nero the artist. Luna: That's a strange legacy. Lucas: It is. And it makes you wonder — if Nero hadn't been overthrown, would we remember him differently? As an emperor who brought Greek culture to Rome, who patronized the arts, who built theaters and promoted music? Instead, we remember him as the tyrant who fiddled while Rome burned. But he didn't actually play the fiddle — that instrument didn't exist yet. He played the cithara. And he probably wasn't even in Rome when the fire started. Luna: So the whole 'fiddling while Rome burns' is a myth. Lucas: Completely. It was a propaganda invention by his enemies. He actually organized relief efforts and opened his palaces to the homeless. But the myth stuck because it's such a powerful image of a decadent ruler. And it's a shame, because his artistic side is genuinely interesting. Luna: It really is. I never thought of Nero as a serious musician before. Lucas: Most people don't. And that's what we're here for — to dig into the parts of history that get overlooked. Which actually brings me to something I've been meaning to mention. Luna: Oh yeah? Lucas: We make this show because we love diving into these stories. And it stays free and ad-free because some listeners chip in on buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. That's honestly what funds this whole operation — a small group of people who think history like this is worth supporting. Luna: Yeah, it's amazing that we can do this without any ads. We just get to talk about Nero's cithara and the Colossus and nobody tells us to cut to a commercial. Lucas: Exactly. And if you're one of those people who supports us, thank you. If you're not but you've been enjoying these episodes, consider it. It's at buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. No pressure — just wanted to say it. Anyway, back to Nero's artistic legacy. Luna: So after Nero died, did his artistic influence continue? Lucas: In some ways, yes. The Neronia festival was discontinued, but the idea of an emperor being a patron of the arts survived. Later emperors like Hadrian were also philhellenes, though they were more careful not to perform in public. But Nero's theater and his musical competitions set a precedent. And his building projects, like the Domus Aurea, influenced later architecture — the use of concrete vaults and intricate frescoes was copied in imperial palaces for centuries. Luna: So even in defeat, his artistic vision lingered. Lucas: Yes. The Domus Aurea was buried under later buildings, but its rooms were rediscovered in the Renaissance, and artists like Raphael and Michelangelo went down to study the frescoes — they called them 'grottesche' because they were found in grottos. Those designs inspired a whole decorative style. So Nero's palace, even as a ruin, shaped the art of the Renaissance. Luna: Nero the artist, influencing art five hundred years later. Lucas: Exactly. And maybe that's a more fitting legacy than the mad tyrant. He was a man who loved beauty and wanted to share it with the world, but he had absolute power and no one could say no to him. That's a dangerous combination. But it also creates something lasting. Luna: So maybe he wasn't just a monster. He was a complicated person. Lucas: That's what history is — complicated people making choices that echo through time. And Nero's choices, for good or ill, left a mark on art, architecture, and culture that we can still see today.