“The Grass Crown”, by Colleen McCullough

894 pages, William Morrow & Company, ISBN-13: 978-0688093693

The Grass Crown by Colleen McCullough is the second book in her “Masters of Rome” series and spans the years 97 to 86 BC. The series has a thesis (first introduced in 1939 by Sir Ronald Syme in his epic historical treatise “The Roman Revolution”): as Rome became more powerful within the Mediterranean world, the old ways of doing things – through the deliberation of various interests, mainly aristocratic and mercantile – became impossibly cumbersome. It became more and more difficult to govern an empire with institutions originally designed to administer a city-state. Certain powerful leaders (especially Marius, Sulla, and Caesar) tried to create a state in which they had autocratic power but also preserved the externals of the old ways. They were opposed by the conservatives (called the optimates by classical historians, though they themselves preferred the title boni or “good men”). The obtuse or simply ignorant resistance of these reactionaries, who are all (except for Cato) presented as degenerate or self-serving, made the creation of an autocracy necessary. The result was the birth of an imperial monarchy, and a radically different organization of power. Each book in the series features a detailed glossary, hand-drawn illustrations of the major characters, and notes by McCullough detailing her reasoning for portraying certain events in certain ways.

Although these two powerful Eastern rulers would eventually declare war on Rome and slaughter thousands of Roman citizens, the plot of the novel centers on the Social War of 91 to 88 BC, a civil war which Rome fought against its mutinous Italian Allies after they were refused full Roman citizenship. Marius and Sulla, still friends and professional colleagues, face the Italian threat together, and succeed in putting down the rebellion of the Italians; however, Marius suffers a serious stroke (his second) and is forced to withdraw from the war. During this struggle, Sulla, rallying his troops against certain destruction near Nola, is hailed as imperator on the field of battle and presented with the highest honor a Roman general can receive: the corona graminea, the eponymous Grass Crown; this was only awarded a very few times during the Republic, and only ever to a general or commander who broke the blockade around a beleaguered Roman army or otherwise saved an entire legion or army from annihilation. Once Rome has settled this pressing domestic matter, and can begin to plot revenge against Mithridates and Tigranes, Marius and Sulla have their first serious falling out over the question of who should lead the legions east. Marius, now an aged and discredited statesman previously dubbed the Third Founder of Rome, is pining for further glory and believes only he has the talent necessary to defeat the allied Kings; Sulla feels as though his old mentor is unwilling to step aside and wants to destroy Sulla’s chance of outshining him. The Senate cites Marius’ age and poor health as a reason to back Sulla, who moreover is the sitting consul and therefore has the side of right. The seeds of serious discord are planted. The Roman comitia quickly becomes a source of political conflict between the two men, and leads to Sulla’s first shocking march on Rome. It also leads Gaius Marius to pursue an unprecedented seventh consulship, which he wins and undertakes after suffering a series of strokes, and is depicted in this novel as going mad.

The Grass Crown is truly a worthy sequel to The First Man in Rome; again, just like the first book, it is well-researched and detailed, with great narration and dialogue that brings real events and real people to life (a glossary in the back of Roman and Latin terms does not make the work cumbersome but instead fascinating and easier to read). The great storytelling is the lure, and a good deal of erudition is the result; the tale is fleshed out in ways where the history and the fiction blend together imperceptibly (for instance, some of the nefarious actions taken by characters are real, while others are McCullough’s novelistic insertions or speculations). That makes the books much more enjoyable as novels, but means that the historical accuracy should be assumed only at the large scale. The protagonists are by and large unlikeable (indeed, Sulla and Marius are generally regarded as villains). McCullough does not paper over that, yet she draws out the characters in ways that humanize them and show their motivations and weaknesses that make them interesting and even somewhat sympathetic at times. these are the best historical fiction I’ve ever read, and some of the best novels; they demand a bit of attention to keep things straight but you will be rewarded with great stories and learning much about one of the most important and fascinating times in history.