Revisions

After hearing Joseph, Armand only grew more pleased with himself. "What's there to fear? It's only a ban on the performance. Corneille's The Cid was banned too. To be banned just like The Cid would be... Why should I change it? No! Even if it gets banned, even if they throw me in the Bastille for it, it'll be worth it! You have to understand, this is Apollo's immortal laurel wreath!"

"Then the play will only get one or two performances before the powers that be catch on," Joseph said.

"No, they won't," Napoleon suddenly cut in. "Just like The Cid, it may be banned for a time, but one day it'll be performed again. And once it is, it'll keep being performed for years to come."

"Now that's something I like to hear." Armand laughed. "Napoleon, I'll drink to that!"

With that, Armand raised his arm and poured a large glass of brandy down his throat. Seeing him, Napoleon wanted to copy him and drain a glass in one go. But he had only just raised his arm when Joseph stopped him.

"Armand can hold his liquor. He drinks like it's water. Don't drink like him, or you'll be flat on your back before you can get a few words out, and that wouldn't be any fun. When we drink with him, he drinks as much as he likes, and we just take little sips."

Napoleon looked at Joseph, then at the slender-looking Armand. He seemed a little doubtful, but still followed Joseph's advice and took just a tiny sip.

"That's right, just like that," Armand said. "I want you to stay clearheaded and give me more suggestions. Hmm, how much can you drink compared to Joseph?"

"Not as much as I can," Joseph said.

"Not much less," Napoleon answered almost at the same time.

"Ah, then even that sip was a bit much. Two glasses of brandy are enough to make Joseph add one and one and get three. Since you're about the same, take it slow," Armand said with a laugh.

"Mr. Lavoisier, I have an idea," Napoleon said.

"Ah, just call me Armand, like Joseph does. 'Mr. Lavoisier' is much too formal. It makes me uncomfortable. Now, what idea does our Alexander have?"

"I think, since the play is already so incendiary—so incendiary that it's almost certainly going to be banned—why not make it even more biting?" Napoleon said.

"Napoleon, you're like a man watching a fire who only wants it to grow bigger. If we do that, the play won't just be banned and then unbanned. It'll be banned, unbanned, banned again, unbanned again, over and over. And Armand really will risk being thrown into the Bastille to feed the rats." Joseph took a small sip of brandy.

"Even better!" Armand said. "Then it'll surpass Corneille! And compared with an achievement like that, what does the Bastille matter? Even the guillotine would be nothing. Hmm, Napoleon, tell me how we can make it even more incendiary."

Napoleon thought for a moment. "Armand, you know that after the Battle of Apulia, Spartacus was killed, and Pompey had all six thousand captured rebels crucified. What if we end with the image of one of the rebels nailed to a cross, posed like Jesus... What do you think?"

"Ah, that's a brilliant idea! It'll drive the holy men mad!" Armand laughed.

"We could also have three crucified rebels speak to one another, like Jesus and the two thieves crucified beside him in the Bible," Napoleon said, growing excited.

"Ah, a brilliant idea, a brilliant idea!" Armand said. "My original ending was too sorrowful, too bleak. This change will bring a little brightness to the end. Hmm, I'll have Spartacus's deputy encourage the other men crucified with him, saying, 'We are indeed going to die, but we die as warriors for freedom, not as slaves and playthings, driven and toyed with by others. The name and cause of Spartacus will live forever!' Hmm, perhaps I should make a major revision and bring back the chorus of ancient Greece. At the end, Spartacus's deputy will call out to the other men on the crosses, 'Then let us sing our battle song one last time!' First a few of the men will sing, then the whole chorus will join in, building into a grand finale, and the play will close on that song—this is wonderful! Napoleon, you're a genius! Much better than Joseph, really!"

Joseph heard him and pursed his lips slightly, but said nothing. Napoleon, meanwhile, couldn't help raising his head and glancing at Joseph with a smug look.

"The lyrics won't be a problem. You can write them yourself. But can you find a good enough composer to help you finish the song? Even if you find one, he won't always be able to write the right music on demand. And you'll have to worry about whether he's willing to risk the Bastille to write it. If you make this change, the song will become the soul of the whole play. Without the right song, the play will be incomplete. But finding such a song won't be easy. Your play was almost ready to go on stage, but with this revision, who knows how long it'll be delayed," Joseph said.

There were quite a few good composers in this era, such as Papa Haydn and Mozart. But neither of them was in France, and neither might be willing to write such a defiant, "blasphemous" song for a play celebrating a slave revolt. Perhaps Beethoven was the only composer of the age who would dare write such a thing, but right now, he was still an unknown boy in his teens. He wouldn't reach maturity until around 1803. Of course, France had some musicians too, even musicians sympathetic to the Revolution, such as François-Joseph Gossec. But compared with other countries, especially Austria, France's musical achievements were far more modest. In 1878, while visiting Paris, Mozart had written to a friend: "As far as music is concerned, I find myself among barbarians... Ask anyone you like—as long as he isn't French and knows something about the matter, he'll say the same... If I can get out of here in one piece, I'll thank Almighty God..." So finding a composer who could write the kind of song Armand wanted wouldn't be easy.

"It's all right," Armand said. "A little more waiting is worth it for a perfect play. Come, let's drink to a perfect tragedy... Ah, I'll drink; you two do as you like... Hahaha..."

"Perfect tragedy" was the phrase Aristotle had used to praise Sophocles' tragedy Oedipus Rex. Armand's words now laid his own ambitions bare.

Yet "perfect tragedy" did seem to be a tragedy in its own right. In the days that followed, Armand often showed up at Joseph's place with his hair in a wild mess, discussing the revisions the tragedy still needed. Unlike the self-satisfied man who had arrived that first time, Armand now found fault with everything in the play. Nothing seemed right; countless parts needed adjusting, and some needed major changes. Then, not long after making those changes, he would decide the new version was worse than the old one and needed revising again...

The most troublesome issue, of course, was still the battle song. It now held an even more important place in the play and had to appear at least three times: when Spartacus and the others launched their revolt and broke out of prison; when they descended by night on grapevines from the cliffs of Mount Vesuvius and routed the Roman troops surrounding them; and finally, at the crucifixion. Armand had even thought of using only the first verse the first two times, saving the complete song for the finale. But as for the song itself, never mind setting it to music—the lyrics hadn't even been written. Armand had written at least a dozen versions, and rejected every one without hesitation.

Joseph's "research," on the other hand, was going very well. He had published several valuable papers during this period. His collaboration with Lavoisier was also progressing smoothly. Nitroglycerin was still dangerous, but techniques for producing it in the field in larger quantities were basically perfected, and it had even been put to use in the Orleans Family's mines. Thanks to it, the mines' productivity had soared, earning the Duke of Phillips a tidy profit. If French industry could develop like Britain's, His Grace would have made even more money.

Since the duke had made money, Lavoisier had made money too, and gained even more recognition. Joseph, who had made a crucial contribution to the invention, had received some money as well, along with Lavoisier's gratitude and support. Lavoisier was now proposing that the French Academy of Sciences give Joseph a place as an associate member.

Because Lavoisier supported the proposal and the duke approved of it, even those who privately opposed it knew that, judging by Joseph's accomplishments so far, he would sooner or later earn a place in the French Academy of Sciences. Even the fiercest opposition could delay the matter by only a year or two. Such a delay would achieve nothing decisive; it would only make enemies, so even the opponents did not put up much of a fight. If nothing unexpected happened, then within a few months—by next spring at the latest—Joseph would have a place as an associate member of the French Academy of Sciences.