“I have long noted that all was not well with your marriage,” he said, avoiding my eyes. “But I do hope you’ll not let the divorce influence the mutual respect and friendship which has developed between us two. I’d be in a dilemma, for instance, if you foreclosed the loan you have made me. We Flavians are not so wealthy as one might wish. My brother Vespasian is said to be supporting himself by dealing in mules. As Proconsul in Africa, he became poorer than ever. The peo-pie there seem to have bombarded him with turnips. I’m afraid he’ll be forced to leave the Senate if the Censor notices he is not fulfilling the conditions of wealth.”
Nero had unexpectedly gone to Naples after taking it into his head that Naples was the place for his first great public appearance as a singer, since the audience there is of Greek descent and thus more sympathetic to art than the Romans. Despite his artist’s self-confidence, Nero was panic-stricken before every performance and trembled and sweated to such an extent that he had to have his own paid applauders who could lead the audience in the first liberating rounds of applause.
I hurriedly traveled after him, which was necessary anyway to my office. The lovely theater in Naples was full to bursting and Nero’s splendid voice sent the audience into ecstasies. Several visitors from Alexandria were especially noticeable, for they expressed their delight in their own countrymen’s way by clapping rhythmically.
In the middle of a performance the theater was shaken by a sudden earth tremor. Panic began to spread in the audience, but Nero continued to sing as if nothing had happened. He received much praise for his self-control, for the audience took courage from his fearlessness. He himself told me afterwards that he had been so absorbed in his singing that he had not even noticed the tremor.
He was so delighted with his success that he appeared at the theater for several days running and finally the city council had to bribe his singing tutor to warn him against overstraining his incomparable voice, for the daily life of the city and trade ai\d sea-trade were being disrupted by his appearances. He rewarded the Alexandrians for their sound judgment by giving them presents as well as Roman citizenship, and he decided to go to Alexandria as soon as possible and appear before a public which was worthy of him.
When at a suitable moment I praised his brilliant artistic success, Nero asked me, “Do you think that if I weren’t the Emperor, I could support myself as an artist anywhere in the world?”
I assured him that as an artist he would certainly be both freer and in some ways wealthier than as Emperor, for as Emperor he had to fight for every Sta’te grant with his miserly Procurators. I said that it was my duty after my time as Praetor to pay for a theater performance for the people, but that in my opinion, there was no sufficiendy good singer in Rome. So with a feigned shyness, I made a suggestion.
“If you would appear at a performance,” I said, “which I would pay for, then my popularity would be assured. I’d pay you a million sesterces as a fee and naturally you can choose the play yourself.”
As far as I know, this was the highest fee ever offered any singer for a single performance. Even Nero was surprised.
“Do you really mean that you consider my voice worth a million sesterces,” he asked, “and that you’ll win the favor of the people with its help?”
I told him that if he would agree, it would be the greatest mark of favor I could think of. Nero frowned and pretended to meditate on his many duties.
“I must appear dressed as an actor,” he said finally, “with cothurni on my feet and a mask on my face. But to please you, I can of course have the mask made to look like myself. Let us test the artistic tastes of Rome. I won’t announce my name until after the performance. I’ll accept your invitation on those conditions. I think I’ll choose the part of Orestes, for I’ve long wanted to sing that. I should think the pent-up strength of my feelings would shake even the hardened audiences of Rome.”
His vanity as an artist drove him expressly to perform this role of a matricide, to allow his own feelings to run high. In some ways I understood him. By writing an amusing book, I had freed myself of my experiences as a prisoner which had driven me to the borders of insanity. For Nero, the murder of Agrippina had been a perturbing experience of which he was trying to free himself by singing. But I was afraid that I had exposed myself to considerable danger by inviting him to do this. It could happen that the audience would not recognize Nero and would not show their appreciation sufficiently.
Worse could happen too. A mask resembling Nero in the part of a matricide might result in the audience misunderstanding the intention. The performance might be taken as a demonstration against Nero and it could sweep the audience away with it. Then I would be lost. Other people might begin to believe the rumors about Nero, and then the result would be a riot with many people killed.
So there was nothing else to do but secretly to spread it about that Nero himself was thinking of appearing as Orestes in my theater performance. Many of the more old-fashioned members of the Senate and the Noble Order of Knights refused to believe that an Emperor would degrade himself to the level of a professional jester and thus knowingly make a fool of himself. The choice of program also made them look on the rumor as an ill-considered joke.
Fortunately Tigellinus and I had mutual advantages to be gained in this matter. Tigellinus ordered a cohort of Praetorians to keep order in the theater and applaud at certain times in the performance, carefully following Nero’s own professional applauders’ example. Several young knights who understood music and singing and would not make the mistake of applauding in the wrong places were appointed leaders of the groups. All the applauders had to practice humming with delight, clapping with cupped hands so that it echoed, making loud claps and sighing wistfully in appropriate places.
Rumors of a political demonstration brought a huge audience who otherwise would hardly have bothered to honor my office of Praetor with their presence. The crowd was so immense that several people were trampled underfoot at the entrances, and some of the older senators’ powerful slaves had to fight their way through to carry their masters to the Senate’s seats of honor. It was just like one of the best days at the races.
Nero himself was so nervous and tense that he was violendy sick before the performance and kept dosing his throat with drinks recommended by his tutor to strengthen his vocal cords. But I must admit he gave a brilliant performance once he was onstage. His powerful voice rang through the theater into a good twenty thousand pairs of ears. He was so engrossed in his cruel role that some of the more sensitive women fainted from emotion in the crush.
The humming, the sighs and clapping came in the right places. The usual audience joined willingly in the applause. But when Nero rushed onto the stage at the end with bloodstained hands, the sounds of loud catcalls, crowing and uproar came from the seats of senators and knights and not even the loudest applause could drown it. I thought my last moment had come when, with shaking knees, I staggered backstage to accompany the unmasked Nero on to inform the people that it had been the Emperor himself who had appeared before them. But to my great astonishment, Nero was weeping with joy as he stood there, drenched with sweat and his face distorted with fatigue.
“Did you notice how I got the crowd with me?” he said. “They catcalled and crowed at Orestes to bring the penalty for matricide down on his head. I don’t think such complete entering into the spirit by an audience has ever happened before.”
Wiping the sweat away and smiling triumphantly, Nero stepped forward to receive the applause, which swelled to thunderous proportions when I announced that it had been the Emperor in person performing in the play. The crowd shouted as one man that he should sing again.