The Peterson Theater was packed with people, all waiting for the premiere of Spartacus to begin. Located near the Saint-Antoine District, the theater was quite small, with a cramped backstage. Armand had added a chorus to the play to provide musical accompaniment, but there was nowhere to hide all those singers backstage. Beyond the changing rooms, the space was already crammed with some of the instruments. With no other choice, Armand arranged for the chorus to sit among the audience. The Peterson Theater's auditorium was small too, with only a little over three hundred seats and no boxes at all. The chorus took up more than twenty seats, leaving fewer than three hundred for the audience.
Of course, the theater's small size had its advantages: it was especially easy to fill to capacity. Armand had been boasting about his new play for ages, and he had a wide circle of acquaintances. Dozens of his friends came, along with people they had rallied. He had also secured a little sponsorship from the Duke of Orleans, so when he announced that admission to the premiere would be free, nearly six hundred people crammed into the Peterson Theater, which could only hold three hundred. Even more people wanted to get in. To accommodate them, the theater manager simply decided to remove all the seats at the last minute and have everyone stand. Since no one was paying, the theater was still packed to the rafters. And the lower-class commoners weren't much for observing etiquette, so the whole place was as lively as a market. One matron even squeezed in carrying a hen she had just bought.
Spartacus began amid this uproar. The opening scene of the first act showed Spartacus facing off in the arena against a small band of gladiators, while another band was led by his friend Oenomaus. Off to one side, the master of ceremonies for the gladiatorial games announced, "The generous Crassus has decreed that whoever kills his opponent and wins this battle shall become a free man!" Then, fighting for "freedom," the two bands clashed. One after another, men fell, until soon only Spartacus and Oenomaus remained standing. But Oenomaus was already wounded and could barely keep upright. He had also lost his small shield in the fighting, leaving him almost unable to defend himself. His opponent, and his closest friend, Spartacus, was nearly unscathed. The outcome seemed all but certain.
"Kill him! Kill him!" shouted the actors playing the spectators in the arena.
"Spartacus, come on, kill me, and you'll be free." Oenomaus knew that even in peak condition, he was probably no match for Spartacus, who had won more than a hundred bouts in the arena. And he was wounded now, to boot.
"You don't get many chances like this," Oenomaus said. "It's rare for Crassus to be so generous. If you miss this chance, you'll never get another shot at becoming a free man—not with your new master, Akzien, and his stingy ways. If I were you, I wouldn't let this opportunity slip by."
"No," Spartacus said. "I won't kill my friend. If I were willing to raise my sword against my friends, I'd already be a Roman citizen."
With that, ignoring the cries around him, Spartacus sheathed his sword, turned, and prepared to leave.
"Kill him! Or you'll get the whip!" someone shouted.
"Wretched slave!" someone else cursed.
"I knew he was a sissy!" one spectator sneered. Louis, Armand's friend, played Spartacus in the premiere. He had the right build, but his face was so handsome that he almost looked like a girl, making him seem ill-suited to a role like Spartacus.
"Die!" Oenomaus suddenly cried. He staggered toward Spartacus, who had his back turned, brandishing his short sword.
Spartacus dodged lightly, letting Oenomaus's blade pass him. Then he drove an elbow into Oenomaus's chest, and Oenomaus dropped his sword and collapsed to the ground in pain.
"Kill me!" Oenomaus gasped.
"No. I won't fall for your trick. I won't raise my sword against a friend."
In the next scene, Spartacus and the other surviving gladiators were being whipped. They asked why he hadn't killed Oenomaus and won his freedom. Spartacus still answered, "I won't raise my sword against a friend." But another gladiator, Crixus, coldly pointed out that his resolve would change nothing, since Oenomaus would soon die in the next bout staged for the crowd's amusement. "They say a very few gladiators get the chance to become free men or leave the arena. But I've never met a single one of those lucky souls. In fact, apart from you, Spartacus, I've never seen a gladiator live longer than three years. You're an undefeated warrior who's won more than a hundred battles, whether against men or tigers and lions. But do you really think you can survive in the arena forever?"
His words silenced them all. At last, someone said, "Unless we escape!"
"But who can lead us to freedom?" someone else asked.
In the second act, Spartacus led a group of gladiators out of the gladiator school. They tried to flee north, out of Rome, but Roman soldiers kept coming after them. Many gladiators died along the way, and in the end, they had no choice but to turn south and take refuge in the mountains of Vesuvius.
On the run, Spartacus came to a conclusion: "Slaves can't win true freedom just by running away. Only by overthrowing the system in which people oppress and enslave one another can slaves become truly free. Our goal shouldn't be merely to evade the Roman soldiers. It should be to destroy Rome and liberate all slaves. Only when every slave is free can we truly be free ourselves!"
As Spartacus spoke to the dozens of exhausted companions who remained, the orchestra began to play the melody of Joseph's new battle song backstage. First came a low, tragic prelude, like dark clouds hanging heavy before a storm. Then the somber first theme began. The music was steady and resolute, and at the end of every measure came a weighty beat, like great raindrops crashing down from the sky, or a war drum rolling thunderously.
Over the music, Spartacus continued his speech: "I know, my friends, my brothers, you have doubts. You'll say, 'Rome has so many soldiers. They're well trained, well armed, and tightly organized. How can a handful of us stand against all of Rome?'
"But I say, don't be afraid, my brothers. What do we have to fear? Nothing at all! What could be more painful and terrifying than the lives we've led? We live like pigs and are trampled into the dirt. What do we have left to fear? Is there anything we can still lose? Is there anything in our lives worth holding on to?
"My friends, my brothers, if there's anything we could lose in battle, it's the chains that bind us. But if we win, what we'll gain is the whole world! A brand-new world, where no one can oppress or enslave another! Take heart, my brothers. It's Rome that should be afraid—the slave owners, the bloodsuckers! We—we have nothing to fear!"
The theater fell silent. Even the uneducated rabble stopped talking. They fixed their hungry eyes on the actor playing Spartacus, listening to his ringing speech and nodding quietly. Someone murmured, "He's right. We—we aren't kings or nobles. What do we have besides chains? What do we have to fear?"
The surviving gladiators regained their spirits. From then on, they raided nearby estates and freed the slaves there. Slaves fleeing from other regions also streamed toward Vesuvius. Spartacus and his friends won victory after victory, and by now their ranks had swelled to several thousand. Spartacus's friend Oenomaus joined the rebellion during this time as well. Under Spartacus's leadership, the slaves even established a true democracy founded on equality for all.
"This is... this is so wonderful. It's like a dream," a spectator below the stage couldn't help whispering.
"It's just like an archangel speaking. Now I understand why they let a girl play a general," another spectator said.
"Isn't it? I swear, even God's heaven couldn't be any better," another whispered in reply. Then he hurriedly crossed himself. "Lord, forgive me."
"Everyone equal, no more nobles, no more privileged classes—that's all very well. But men and women equal... does that mean women can get on top of men?" someone else said.
But the plot soon grew tense again. To crush the rebellion, Rome sent an officer named Claudius with three thousand well-equipped soldiers. With help from the local slave owners, the men stormed into Vesuvius. The rebels lacked weapons and supplies, and couldn't hold back the Roman soldiers in a direct battle. They were forced back step by step until at last they were surrounded atop a steep mountain. In front of them stood the Romans, ready for battle; behind them lay sheer cliffs. Spartacus and his rebels seemed trapped with no way out. Even Crixus said, "It seems this will be the last stretch of my life. At least, during this time, I was a free man."
But in their desperate plight, a female slave named Agnippe proposed a plan: "There are plenty of wild grapevines on this mountain. We can weave them into ropes, and then you men can climb down the ropes and attack the Roman soldiers from behind."
"Hmph, and just a moment ago you were looking down on women. Without us women, you bunch of fools..." the matron below the stage, still clutching a chicken, couldn't help saying.
Spartacus took Agnippe's advice. Under cover of night, he led the warriors down the mountain on the ropes, then attacked from behind and routed the Roman army in one fell swoop. Waving his short sword, Spartacus led the slaves in pursuit of the Roman soldiers and shouted, "Brothers, sing our song!"
Then, to the deep and stirring music, the slaves onstage began to sing:
Arise! The damned of the earth
Arise! The galley slaves of hunger...
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