Fortune’s Favorites, though by no means the last book in this series, does mark the end of that period of Roman history wherein the ancient sources are a little thin, due to the absence of Livy and Cassius Dio, not to mention Cicero at his most prolific. In effect, this has meant that in the first three books I have been able to encompass almost all the historical events from one end of the Mediterranean to the other. So Fortune’s Favorites also marks a turning point in how I treat my subject, which is the fall of the Roman Republic. The books still to come will have to concentrate upon fewer aspects than the full sweep of the history of the time, which I think will be an advantage to both reader and writer.
However, even Fortune’s Favorites is enriched by increasing ancient source material, as marked by the appearance as characters of. two animals—the dog belonging to the wife of King Nicomedes of Bithynia, and the famous pet fawn of Quintus Sertorius. Both are attested; the dog by Strabo, the fawn by Plutarch.
Fortune’s Favorites also arrives at the beginning of a period of Roman history flirted with by Hollywood, to the detriment of history, if not Hollywood. The reader will find a rather different version of Spartacus than the celluloid one. I have neither the room nor the inclination to argue here why I have chosen to portray Spartacus in the way I have; scholars will be able to see the why—and the who—of my argument in the text.
The glossary has been completely rewritten specifically to suit this book; please note that some of the general articles, like steel and wine, have been lifted out. As the books go on, I would have to keep increasing the size of the glossary did I not cull the entries, and time and space dictate the impossibility of a glossary which would eventually be longer than the book.
For those interested readers, the glossaries of the earlier books if combined with this one will yield information on most things. The entries on the governmental structure of Republican Rome will always be incorporated, though in a changing form as various laws and men worked upon it. Only those places and/or peoples about which the reader might want to refresh his or her knowledge are included. The most interesting new entries concern ships, which are now becoming more important. Hence find bireme, hemiolia, merchantman, myoparo, quinquereme, sixteener and trireme in the glossary of Fortune’s Favorites.
Of the drawings, both the “youthened” young Pompey and the Pompey in his thirties are taken from authenticated busts. The young man Caesar is a “youthened’’ drawing taken from a bust of the middle—aged man—a somewhat easier exercise than with Pompey, as Caesar kept his figure. The drawing of Sulla is taken from a bust. Dissension rages as to which of two extant busts is actually Sulla: one is of a handsome man in his late thirties, the other is of an old man. I think both are Sulla. Ears, nose, chin, face shape and face folds are identical. But the handsome mature man is now wearing a wig of tight curls (that it is a wig is confirmed by two tongues of absolutely straight hair projecting down in front of the ears), has lost his teeth (a phenomenon which lengthens the chin, of course), and at some time in the recent past has lost a great deal of weight. As Sulla was at most sixty-two when he died, illness must have taken a terrible toll—a fact quite consistent with what Plutarch has to say. Lucius Licinius Lucullus is also an authenticated bust.
Which leaves Metellus Pius, Quintus Sertorius, and Crassus, all drawn from unidentified portrait busts of Republican date. In The First Man in Rome, I “youthened’’ an anonymous bust to suit the young Sertorius; that bust is now drawn as it was, except that I have removed the left eye and replaced it with scar tissue (taken from a photograph in one of my medical textbooks).
Alone among the really great men of that time, Marcus Licinius Crassus has no authenticated likeness passed down to our time. So I chose an unidentified bust of a thickset, placid-looking man to portray, as what we know of Crassus strongly suggests that he was a heavy, phlegmatic individual—at least on his surface. Otherwise the jokes about oxen would have had little point.
King Nicomedes is not an authenticated likeness; though there are coin profiles, debate still rages as to whether there were two kings after Nicomedes II (the King Nicomedes whom Marius met in 97 B.C.), Nicomedes III and Nicomedes IV, or whether the two reigns separated by an exile in Rome were both Nicomedes III. I think the last Nicomedes to reign was Nicomedes III. Be that as it may, I chose to draw from an unidentified bust of Republican date which in profile looks somewhat Nicomedian, though the bust wears no diadem, therefore cannot have been a king. Chiefly I wanted my readers to see what the diadem looked like when worn.
To save people the trouble of writing to me, I am aware that Suetonius describes Caesar’s eyes as “nigris vegetisque oculis,” usually translated as “keen black eyes” or “piercing black eyes” or “lively black eyes.” However, Suetonius also calls him fair, and was writing a hundred and fifty years after Caesar’s death; a length of time which could well have meant those portrait busts kept up by repainting no longer reflected the true eye color. To be both fair and black-eyed is very rare. Caesar’s great—nephew, Augustus, was also fair; his eyes are said to have been grey, a color more in keeping with fairness. Pale eyes with a dark ring around the outside of the iris always have a piercing quality, so I elected to depart from Suetonius’s eye color rather than from his general description of a fair man; Plutarch, disappointingly unforthcoming about Caesar’s looks, does mention Caesar’s white skin. Velleius Paterculus says Caesar “surpassed all others in the beauty of his person.” It is from Suetonius that one discovers he was tall and slender, but excellently built. I wouldn’t like any of my readers to think that I have succumbed to the temptations of a lady novelist and endowed a major historical character with a physical appeal he did not in fact have! Poor Caesar really did have everything—brains, beauty, height, and a good body.
One further comment and I will desist from the portrait busts: the drawings are rendered exactly to scale, so those faces with preternaturally large eyes simply reflect the whim of the original sculptor, who perhaps chose to flatter his sitter by making the eyes too large. Big eyes were the greatest mark of beauty to a Roman.
To enlighten those who may scratch their heads because Pompey’s letters to the Senate differ markedly from Sallust, and Cicero’s court speeches from the published speeches which have come down to us: there is considerable doubt about the veracity of Sallust on the subject of Pompey’s correspondence, and Cicero rewrote his speeches for publication. I have therefore elected to stay with my own words. On the subject of elephants, it must be borne in mind that the Romans were acquainted with African pachyderms, not Indian ones, and that the African species was both larger and far less amenable to taming.
Those who would like a bibliography are welcome to write to me care of my publishers.
The next book in the series will be called Caesar’s Women.