Nero has always been an enigma, and today he remains hard to understand. This Companion aims to offer a new overall presentation of the figure, context and reception of Nero through 21 impressive contributions. Following an editorial introduction, the volume proceeds in six parts, plus an appendix: (1) ‘Nero's World’; (2) ‘Neronian Literature’; (3) ‘Neronian Seneca’; (4) ‘Nero's Monumental Rome’; (5) ‘The Neros of Reception’; (6) ‘After the Last Laugh’. Part 1 investigates Nero's artistic conduct (M. Leigh), the relationship between Nero and the Senate (J. Osgood), the nature of Nero's imperial government (C.F. Noreña) and Nero's contrastive relationship with strong-willed women (A.A. Barrett). Part 2 discusses Post-Augustan revisionism (C. Littlewood), the anatomy of Lucan's De bello civili and its place in the tradition of historical epic at Rome (G. Williams), the engagement of Petronius’ Satyrica with the historical reality of Nero's reign (K. Freudenburg) and Persius’ politics, through satire and silence (D. Hooley). Part 3 is concerned with the Neronian character of Seneca's drama (C. Torre), the role of philosophers in the Neronian State (S. Bartsch) and Seneca's quest for philosophical and literary glory (C. Edwards). Part 4 investigates the inclination of Neronian art towards exaggeration and deconstruction (C. Vout), Nero's public imagery and the Domus Aurea (E. La Rocca), the Great Fire of 64 ce and the Christians’ eventual responsibilities (J. Pollini) and the recalibration of Nero's monumental legacy in architecture and portraiture in Flavian Rome (E. Varner). Part 5 includes five contributions on the historical reconstruction of Nero as a figure of power (D. Grau), the mythology of Paul's ‘Neronian travails’ and the Christian communities in Nero's Rome (J.A. Harrill), the image of Nero in Renaissance political thought, from Petrarch to Machiavelli (P. Stacey), the resurgence of Nero in the Enlightenment with Voltaire and Diderot (E. Russo) and on Nero in cinema and television, with his summa vitiologica (M.M. Winkler). In Part 6 E. Gunderson traces the construction of Neronian monstrosity and its ethical force; in the appendix La Rocca considers Nero's portrait types.

The book collects the authoritative insights of major experts of the Neronian empire. Nevertheless, after reading the volume, it must be noted that Nero retains his mask. In fact, the book does not solve Nero's main enigmas: the Great Fire of 64 ce, the meaning of the Domus Aurea, Nero's imago vitae as the artifex. Gunderson asserts that Nero is impervious to unmasking (p. 347). Nevertheless, Nero is reachable; we can find out the truth about him, but a new working model is due. Gunderson writes that ‘one more investment in hermeneutics is all we need to get behind the scenes’ (p. 343). In particular, it is necessary to highlight the importance of reading the Greek and Latin sources in the original texts, in order to directly access the truth of the Classics and thus achieve further levels of analysis, understanding and knowledge. As M. Torelli suggested in 1994, it is advisable to conduct future studies from an interdisciplinary perspective, in order to see the ancient Romans in context and in light of their versatility (‘Per un'eziologia del cambiamento in epoca claudia. Vicende vicine e vicende lontane’, in V.M. Strocka [ed.], Die Regierungszeit des Kaisers Claudius (41–54 n. Chr.). Umbruch oder Episode? [1994], p. 177). Proceeding with a sense of measure, it is important to widen one's horizons, without missing the importance of the details.

It is comforting that Hooley remarks upon the real influence that Seneca had on Nero (p. 123). Previous scholarly references to Nero's interest in philosophy are very limited. P. Veyne maintained that Nero's approach to philosophy was merely utopian and that Nero lacked political sense (Annuaire du Collège de France [1985–1986], p. 723). R. Holland wrote that Nero enjoyed organising and attending philosophical banquets at his court (Nerone [2002], p. 70). S. Mratschek reported that Cheramon, an Egyptian priest, introduced Nero to Stoicism during his childhood (‘Nero the Imperial Misfit’, in E. Buckley and M.T. Dinter [edd.], A Companion to the Neronian Age [2013], pp. 46–7). The majority of modern scholars tend to regard Seneca's teaching career as a failure. As Y.L. Too argued in 1994, the common opinion is still that Seneca taught Nero to be a wicked tyrant, and to this extent he was responsible for the corruption and excess of the emperor-to-be (‘Educating Nero: a Reading of Seneca's Moral Epistles’, in J. Elsner and J. Masters [edd.], Reflections of Nero: Culture, History and Representation [1994], p. 211). Hooley's insights stand in line with the ancient sources, which attest both Nero's interest in Stoicism and the importance of Seneca's teaching of the young emperor. In fact, on the one hand, Suetonius and Martial define Nero as an intellectual and suggest that the young emperor was well-read in philosophy (Suet. Nero 52; Mart. 8.70.8). Nero's doctrina included the knowledge of Stoic ethics (cf. ThLL s.v. I A 1), which Nero learned first from the Egyptian Stoic Cheramon and later from Seneca. Nero's interest in philosophy is also attested by Tacitus (Ann. 14.16). On the other hand, Tacitus claims that Nero stressed Seneca's relevance as his moral guide when Seneca retired (Ann. 15.55).

As for the ancient historians’ evidence, I agree with Grau that it ‘cannot be put aside’ (p. 268). Hence, it is necessary to ask whether and how Nero practised ethics. Did Nero behave as a Stoic philosopher in politics and as a politician in Stoic philosophy, in line with the example of Seneca? Did he draw inspiration from Stoicism in order to assert his ethical supremacy as the foremost Roman emperor, presenting virtus as the highest expression of power (cf. Sen. Ep. 94.7, 108.13) and using philosophia as his instrumentum regni? At the same time, did the princeps regard politics as his instrumentum philosophiae, actualising his knowledge of Stoicism through politics? In other words, it is necessary to investigate if Nero balanced contemplation and action in accordance with Seneca's concept of the virtuous life (cf. Sen. Ep. 94.45). Did Nero aim to overcome the Roman moral decadence of his age using the arma sapientiae he had received from Seneca, who was Agrippa's alter ego in spiritual terms? Did Nero promote progress according to the Stoic concept of virtue, which included love for truth, reason, solidarity, happiness, peace, freedom, knowledge, sight, ontological and ethical equality, and intelligence? Ultimately, was Stoicism in power in the Neronian Age? These are only some of the questions that the contributors to this Companion do not ask, but that should be answered.

The path to tread in order to discover the true nature of Nero is demanding but not impassable. It is promising to consider the communicative power of silence and images in Nero's world view, in order to reveal Nero's bright visualisation of philosophical imagination. In what terms did Nero act from an oracular and aristocratic perspective, as far as possible without using words? Did Nero give logical and visual evidence or reflections (in the double sense of rational considerations and images), in Greek εἴδωλα and in Latin simulacra (cf. Plat. Theaet. 150b; Sen. Ep. 94.51), of his thoughts? In this way, did he aim to shape a world that was essentially virtus or λόγος, according to the homology of the good with the reason that rules the universe in Stoicism (cf. e.g. SVF I 179 [2] = Stob. Ecl. II p. 75.11 W.)? In an enigmatic way, did Nero turn silence into the highest emotional and intellectual expression of communication (cf. Sen. Tranq. 4.6)? Did he try to overcome in this manner the obstacle of the words in spiritual life, thereby emulating Seneca? Notably, Seneca expressed his ideas in his written works, using metaphors and similes, although he would have preferred to show them (cf. Sen. Ep. 75.2).

Nero's enigmas can be solved by considering the equivalence of σοφία (or virtue) and λόγος (or reason) in Stoicism, and, as a consequence, the equivalence of philosophy (the science of σοφία) to philology (the science of λόγος). In line with Plato, in Stoicism, through his transfiguration (aiming at the ultimate achievement of virtus), the proficiens (the would-be sapiens) becomes similar to a κριτικός, or a philologus, who is subtle and trained in ethics and, at the same time, is able to find the deepest and most comprehensive sense of reality (cf. e.g. Plat. Theaet. 161a; Sen. Ep. 108.30; Sex. Emp. Adv. Math. 1.79 = Crat. fr. 17 Mette).

In order to solve the Neronian enigmas we must conduct our research from a perspective that is historical, philosophical and philological; we must look for Nero's true nature beyond the common opinion, beyond appearances. More specifically, we must consider that Nero was both a philosopher and a philologist. Nero exploited the exegetical relevance of metaphors and similes, in line with R. Gazich's view that, in Stoicism, ‘ogni dato e ogni evento ammette almeno due letture, quella che procede secondo un'erronea opinio communis, e quella sorta di lectio difficilior che è propria del sapiens’ (Aevum(ant) 10 [2010], p. 287).

As Pollini argues, current scholarship rejects the popular view of Nero as an arsonist (p. 213). In contrast with this scholarly trend, I wonder whether Nero burnt Rome in order to purify and rebuild it according to Stoicism, as the primary sources suggest (cf. Tac. Ann. 15.40–3; Suet. Nero 38.1). Actually, under Nero, did Rome rise again as the Phoenix, which was the Stoic symbol of the sapiens (cf. Sen. Ep. 42.1), nearly 500 years after the Gallic fire of 387 bce? Did Nero consider the Great Fire a providential conflagration? It is necessary to investigate if and how Nero could show the Stoic concept of celestial fire as a creative agent (cf. SVF I 102; Sen. QNat. 3.28.7).

Again, what is the deep sense of the Domus Aurea (οἶκος)? La Rocca and Varner respectively regard Nero's palace as ‘a new and gigantic imperial house’ (p. 203) and as ‘a private residence’ (p. 250). Rather, was Nero's palace the representation of the universe (οἰκουμένη), located at the core of Rome? Did Nero regard the urbs as a man (cf. Suet. Nero 31.2) or, more specifically, as the sapiens, whose internal structure reflected (upon) the reason in the universe, according to Stoicism (cf. Posid. fr. 85 E–K; Sen. QNat. 3.29.3)? It is intriguing to consider whether the Domus Aurea was in the first instance a gorgeous system of symbols referring to Stoicism, where the octagonal room represented the Roman empire, or MAC(hina) AUG(usti), through which the emperor, as a deus ex machina, came to the world. This interpretation of the core of the Domus Aurea is in line with the numismatic sources (cf. RIC Nero I 184) and with Nero's ultimate declaration.

On the point of death (68 ce), Nero defined himself as artifex, thus leaving to us his imago vitae (Suet. Nero 49). What did Nero mean to declare with his last words? Leigh (p. 26), Grau (p. 267) and Vout (p. 193) translate artifex as ‘artist’. Rather, did Nero suggest that he resembled the intelligent artifex, clearly the creative God in a theatrical world (cf. Sen. Ep. 58.28)? Interestingly, artifex is the Latin translation of Δημιουργός, the divine Platonic Craftsman who transfers his ideas into reality.