Armand told Joseph that his Spartacus had recently been prepared for a performance in Paris.
"Why, is that war song of yours ready?" Joseph asked.
"No." Armand shook his head, "There still isn't a song that will do the trick. However, everyone feels that now is the best time for this play to be staged. It would be a shame to miss this period. So, for the time being, let's use Edgar's song."
Edgar was a young "composer" within the Arman circle. As in later times, the number of poor young Parisians who called themselves "composers" was not necessarily less than the number of young Parisians who called themselves "original musicians" in later times. Edgar was one such "original musician". He had a few songs circulating in the small bars of St. Antoine's, but writing a battle cry for Spartacus was a bit beyond the young man's abilities.
"Is this the best period?" Joseph said, "In terms of causing a sensation, yes indeed. But staging this work at this time of year might put you in danger. Maybe ..."
Speaking here Joseph extended his finger and pointed upwards, "Maybe they'll throw you into the Bastille for it."
"What's to be afraid of then? Then I'll really go down in history." Armand replied without a care in the world, "The big deal is to go in and squat for a few years. At such a cost, in exchange for the chance to be recorded in history, that's really worth it!"
Since Armand had such an attitude, and Joseph also knew that in these days, even if Armand did get thrown into the Bastille, he wouldn't stay in there for long. Because as soon as the French Revolution began, the Bastille was conquered. And the prisoners who were held in the Bastille were naturally released. Even more so, if Armand wanted to go into politics in the future, having been in the Bastille would be a rare qualification.
"Since you say so. Then I won't advise you." Joseph patted Armand's shoulder and said, "Anyway, take care of yourself. Um, when are you guys rehearsing? I'll go over and take a look then?"
"The day after tomorrow, right at the Peterson Theater. Starting at eight in the morning." Amand replied.
The Peterson Theater was between the St. Antoine district and City Hall, not far from the Bastille. The St. Antoine district was where the poor lived, and the condition of the theaters near there couldn't be compared to those in the richer districts to the west. But this play of Armand's was more suitable to be performed in such a place.
"That's good, I'll definitely be there then." Joseph replied.
Two days later, Joseph brought Lucien along to watch the rehearsal of Spartacus. The rehearsal went well, including Edgar's battle song, but Armand kept frowning and looking distracted.
"What's wrong, Armand?" Joseph said, "Isn't it going well? The actors are doing great, too."
"It was good, hell!" Armand said, "If you hadn't come up with that idea before, I'd be very happy with it now. But as soon as Edgar's song came out, I always felt ... I felt ... it was like going to a big dinner and, as a result, realizing that all the food had no salt in it. It's just ... all your fault, Joseph, hell, if it wasn't for you, I'd be just as giddy as those guys at this point ... nay, I'd be happier than they are. Damn! Damn!"
Armand stomped his feet and said damn several times in one breath, then added bitterly to Joseph; "Joseph, your help me ..."
"What can I do about this?" Joseph said with wide eyes.
To be fair, Edgar's song wasn't bad, melodic, yet beautiful, it was just, just like Amand used to complain, "It's a little too light, all I need is a roaring Urbane cannon, and all he gave me was a trumpet."
Armand froze for a moment, then laughed bitterly, "And yes, if there was a way to do it, it would have been done a long time ago in this enumeration."
Then he turned his head and said jokingly to Lucien on the side, "Lucien, you're studying music too. How nice it would be if you could write a good song."
However, he didn't expect Lucien to respond, "Yeah, after watching today's rehearsal, I'd like to give it a try as well."
This answer was a bit out of Armand's expectation. He froze for a moment, then laughed, "Then you have to be quick, you know, this play will be staged in half a month."
What Armand didn't expect was that four days later, Joseph suddenly brought Lucien to him.
"Armand, take a look at this." Joseph directly handed a piece of paper to Armand.
Amang took the paper, lowered his head, and looked at it. Then he began humming the melody on the paper through his nose, and finally he jerked his head up and grabbed Joseph's sleeve: "Joseph, this, this is outstanding! Where did this come from?"
"The tune was written by Lucien." Joseph said, while glancing at Lucien, "I wrote the lyrics. What do you think, Armand?"
"Well? It's too good! So good that it's almost like it's in my dreams. No, I should say, it's in a dream, I've never heard a song like this before, otherwise, I would have remembered it." Amang was so happy that she couldn't help but dance straight away.
"Amang, do you think this song will work?" Joseph asked.
"Sure, of course it can. It doesn't get any better than this." Amang replied with a raised eyebrow.
"But Armand, if you're going to use this song, I have one request." Joseph said.
"Go ahead my friend. You are now just asking me to run naked in the streets or serve my chaste ass I promise you!" Armand replied with a harsh laugh.
"Cut the crap, you're bringing the kids down!" Joseph said.
"Alright my friend, tell us what you want."
"Don't tell anyone else that I wrote the lyrics to this song and Lucien composed it until you have my permission." Joseph said.
Amand was able to understand this request from Joseph. He didn't care about being caught in the Bastille, but that didn't mean that Joseph didn't care either. If he got caught in the Bastille, it was only his own business, but Joseph was still raising two minor brothers, so what would happen to his brothers if he went into the Bastille? Besides, he knew, or at least felt so himself, that Joseph's goal in life was primarily in science, and he didn't want anything else interfering too much with his research. As for Lucien, he was very talented, but after all, he was still a child under fifteen at this time, and it was only natural that such a possibility of going to the Bastille could not involve him.
"No problem. I promise you on my honor that I won't say anything without your consent, even at the time of the Doomsday Judgment." Aman said very seriously.
"My friend, there's no need to be so serious." Joseph laughed, "I just want to avoid some unnecessary trouble."
"I know." Amang said, "I'm not afraid to go into the Bastille, but I'm not willing to see any of my friends in the Bastille."
Amand didn't take the song right away for the troupe to rehearse, because if he did, even if he didn't say who the author was, people might guess the possible author of the song based on the fact that he had just met Joseph and Lucien and immediately had a new song. To say that Armand was actually a meticulous person.
It wasn't until two days later that Armand took out the song and let the troupe try to use it, and this time the results were said to be very good, but Armand was still not satisfied. It was said that he felt that some of the lines, nowadays, didn't seem to qualify as the song, and many places still needed to be modified. The actors, on the other hand, made a lot of comments about the stage and the performance. So Amang got busy again.
After another week, Armand came again to invite Joseph and Lucien to visit the rehearsal of his play. This time, however, Joseph had to go on a business trip, so only Lucien and Armand went to the rehearsal together. A few days later, by the time Joseph returned to Paris, the rehearsal on Armand's side was almost complete. At least, according to Lucien, the play was "no worse than those of Molière."
But Armand still seemed unsatisfied, and now he spent all day in the theater, repeatedly hesitating over trivial matters, his cheekbones rising. Joseph knew that the man had gotten into a corner and was out of his mind. If he continued like this, he could end up seriously ill after a successful performance, or even "summoned by the Lord"... Ah, no, how could he be "summoned by the Lord", considering the implied satire on Christianity in his work? How could he have been "called by the Lord"? He must have "met with the wrath of God" and been dragged to hell by the devil.
However, Joseph did not want to see Armand fall on the stage at the curtain call after a successful debut - as beautiful as that might seem, it was not the right time for Armand to fall.
Joseph knew that the so-called "problems" that plagued Armand today were not really big problems, and that no matter what kind of decision he made, it wouldn't make much difference. It was just that he had gotten himself into a corner, so that he was unable to make a choice.
"Ah Mang, have you ever heard of such a story? There was a man who put two identical piles of grass on the left and right sides of a donkey, at the same distance from each other. And then guess what happened to the donkey?" Joseph said as he put a hand on Armand's shoulder.
"I know, that donkey ended up standing in the middle and starving to death. Joseph, you're such a bad guy that you compared me to that stupid donkey! But are you really sure that the grass is exactly the same on both sides?"
"A donkey! Would you have hesitated so long if it wasn't exactly the same?"
"Of course it's not exactly the same, there are some differences between them. It's just that I don't know which one is better."
"In that case, that's easy." Joseph said while pulling out a not-so-regularly shaped silver coin (Ancient Roman silver coins were struck silver coins, and in general, the shape wasn't square), and said, "Let's use this to make a judgment. Look. On this side is the idol of Bacchus, and on this side is a bunch of grapes. You know, my friend, that the art of tragedy springs from the worship of this deity. Let us let Him help us in our judgment. You toss up the silver coin. If the avatar is facing upwards, it is the god Bacchus who approves of this practice, and if the grapes are facing upwards, it is He who is denying it. What do you think?"
Bacchus is the Roman name for Dionysus, the Greek mythological god of wine, whose priesthood did not include the arts, but considering that the art of Ancient Greek tragedy originated from the practice of sacrificing to Him. It was still appropriate that Joseph offered to let Him be the judge.
"A Roman dinar?" Armand took the silver coin in Joseph's hand and looked at it carefully, "It should be something from the Republican period, perhaps back then Crassus (one of the first three giants of ancient Rome, and the Roman consul who eventually suppressed the Spartacus Uprising.) ) had held this silver coin in his hand. Unfortunately, it's not in very good condition, and if it weren't for the grapes on the reverse, I'd barely recognize the head of Bacchus on the obverse. Still, it's really good stuff. Well, let's do as you say."