The Corsican Survey of Social Classes and the Plays of Armand

"How can we tell who exactly is our friend and who is our enemy?" Joseph laughed, "My brother, you finally asked a less stupid question. Well, Napoleon, think about it. What kind of person wants change in their life? What kind of person wants to maintain the status quo?"

Had there been no conversation just now, perhaps Napoleon would have said at once: "Those who are brave, adventurous and heroic want change; while the mediocre, visionless and unambitious mediocrities want to maintain the status quo."

But now that Napoleon had largely caught up with Joseph's train of thought, he certainly wouldn't make such a stupid reply, so he thought for a moment and replied: "Those who are dissatisfied with reality and think they should be able to get a bigger share want a revolution; while those who are happy with the way things are distributed now want to maintain the status quo. Well, Joseph, that's what you mean, isn't it?"

"Ah, Napoleon." Joseph laughed, "Though I've often called you stupid, the truth is, compared to most people, you're pretty smart. You have the right idea. Well, now it's time for you to think about your revolution, who are the friends to rely on and who will be your enemies. I don't think it's actually a bad idea that you're going to write the History of Corsica."

"What do you mean?" Napoleon asked thoughtfully.

"Writing The History of Corsica can give you an opportunity to reach out to the whole of Corsican society - everyone from the top to the bottom. Take this opportunity to do a thorough research on Corsica so that you can have a comprehensive understanding of the city. Well, my brother, you must know that there can be no accurate judgment without adequate investigation, and there can be no statement."

Napoleon thought about it and nodded, "Joseph, you have a point. That's how I'll do it first."

"Well, I'll tell you what, you ..." Joseph was about to tell Napoleon some of the latter-day ways of conducting a social survey when he heard a knock at the door from outside.

"Who is it?" Joseph asked this while walking towards the door.

"It's me, Armand." Armand's voice came from outside.

When Joseph opened the door, he saw Armand standing outside with two dark circles under his eyes, looking like he hadn't had enough sleep or had drunk too much of some of Hebe's wine and carrying a bag in his hand.

"Armand? Come in and sit down." Joseph ushered Armand in, dragging a chair to him in passing.

"I'm rather disorganized here, I hope you don't mind." Joseph said as he put away all the draft paper and stuff on the table.

"Ah, it's fine. I'm more of a mess there." Armand laughed, "Well, do you have any wine here? I've come all this way and I'm so thirsty all the way over here."

"That's not available." Joseph laughed and shook his head, "My friend, you know I don't drink much. Well, I only have plain water here. Is that okay?"

"Hell! Never mind, as long as it's liquid! I knew I couldn't count on those with you." Armand said.

"Ah, Napoleon, go get that kettle for me." Joseph turned to Napoleon.

Napoleon then went over to get the kettle.

"Is this your brother?" Armand asked.

"Yeah, that's that stupid brother of mine." Joseph asked casually.

"I think he'd be a living, breathing His Majesty Pepin, or even Alexander the Great, if he wore ancient clothes." Armand said, "You may have been too hard on your brother."

Hearing this comment, Joseph couldn't help but stare at Armand, scanning him from top to bottom so many times, all the time looking at Armand, who couldn't help but ask, "Is there anything dirty on my face?"

"No." Joseph replied, "I was just checking to see if you hadn't gotten over the 'Hebe's nectar' yet."

"Ah, you think I'm rambling?" Armand immediately replied in aria-like tones, "O vulgar man, know which of the greatest of those prophets of the world, those favorites of the god Apollo, did not, in that mysterious ecstasy, speak the truth of the world? You think I'm full of shit because I've never seen your brother before? Thou knowest not, O foolish mortal, that it is divine intuition at work, and it was in the midst of this divinely bestowed ecstasy that I saw at a glance the gleam in thy brother's eye, the fire in his heart. In that moment, I was even reminded of the statue of Alexander the Great! Trust me, my friend, your brother will be amazing in the future. Really!"

Napoleon was coming over with his kettle by this time and was rather pleased to hear Armand's opinion of himself. As he came up to pour the water, he couldn't help but look at Joseph, a smile on his face.

"Well, Your Highness Princess Cassandra, you have a point." Joseph also replied in aria-like language, "But your highness, in your visit to your humble abode, could it be that you foreknew beforehand that my brother was here, and therefore wanted to utter this prophecy to him, as the witches uttered that prophecy to Macbeth?"

Cassandra was the legendary princess of Troy and priestess of Apollo, the god of prophecy. Because she refused Apollo's advances, Apollo cursed her with a clear view of the future but uttered prophecies that no one would ever believe.

"Ah, you still don't believe it." Armand said, "But just wait and see. As for what I came here for, well, I certainly didn't foresee running into your brother here. Uh, Joseph, remember that script we mentioned last time? The Spartacus one?"

"Remember, you're done?" Joseph looked at Armand in surprise, "That's not like you, Armand. It's not your style, mind you, your style is supposed to be no more than twenty words a day."

"Ah, you're right. But that's just the general condition." Armand doesn't deny that he usually writes no more than twenty words a day, "But this time it was different, there was a mysterious force that drove me to write without sleep. The ancient Greeks believed that the writers of tragedy were not actually composing themselves, but that the gods were composing through them. I had this feeling when I was writing Spartacus that the gods held my hand and made me write and write and write, and I couldn't stop even if I wanted to. Joseph, I didn't create this, the muse is creating it through me, I'm just a driven recorder. So, while this play is faster than anything I've created before, the quality rather overwhelms those previous things. The old ones compared to this one like Graeae (the three gray witches in Greek mythology who shared one eye and were strangely ugly.) and Helen by alike. Do you want to take a quick look?" 

"Well, don't get too busy with the self-praise." Joseph said, "You look like a godly man who buys exonerations. Hurry up and bring the script over to me."

"Here!" Armand handed Joseph the bag in his hand.

Joseph took the bag and opened it to reveal a stack of stapled manuscripts.

"Play with it yourself while I take a look at it." Joseph said to Armand as he flipped through the manuscript.

"Feel free." Armand said. 

Napoleon came along and looked at it with Joseph.

For his part, Armand leaned his back against the back of his chair and looked around in boredom, and soon he noticed Louis, who was standing off to the side, not talking much, and he began to tease him with interest.

The sun shone through the window and onto Joseph's desk. As time went on, this piece of sunlight crawled slowly across the table like a snail. By the time Joseph had read the entire script, the sun had crept from one end of the desk to the other.

"How's that?" Seeing that Joseph had put down his manuscript, Armand hurriedly asked. All this time, he'd been teasing Louis with one word or another, trying hard to get things into Louis's head that were bad for the physical and mental health of teenagers, but he'd actually been keeping an eye on Joseph and Napoleon's antics.

Joseph, however, did not speak, and it was some time before he sighed and turned to Napoleon: "Napoleon, I've told you before that even if a person is gifted, they have to keep working hard to make something of themselves. Look at the example before you. This asshole called Armand is a no-nonsense asshole, a playboy, and a prime example of a wasted life. You see this script of his is very good is not it because you have not read the crap he wrote in the past, compared to this, it is completely crap it! If this asshole got serious and worked hard, I'm afraid he'd be able to catch up to Corneille, or even touch the heels of Aeschylus, Euripides, and Sophocles. But this asshole, he actually spends most of his time drinking and fooling around! ... But speaking of drinking, well, Armand, this script of yours makes you want to have a drink after reading it. Well, it's about dinner time too, so why don't you treat us out for a drink?"

The turn was a bit sharp, even to the point that Armand was a bit unresponsive. Still, Armand quickly figured out that Joseph thought very highly of him for this play.

"Well, then, it's my treat." Armand was forthcoming, "Let's talk about it over a drink. I know a place that makes a great Poitou brandy..."

Several people went out of the door, called a hired carriage, and in a short time arrived at the tavern called "May Lilac". Armand was obviously a regular here, and as soon as he entered, he expertly greeted the owner and the proprietor's wife, whose waist was almost twice as big as her husband's, and then said, "Prepare us a more quiet seat, and a dozen brandies!"

"Okay, Armand, it's the same spot you always use with a view of the Seine." The boss's wife greeted them loudly. The boss then personally brought them over.

The guys took a seat at that table, and Armand said to the proprietor, "Philippe, feel free to make something drinkable, I'm not interested in looking at your millennia-old menu."

The boss answered and left. Before long, various dishes, as well as brandy, were served.

"Napoleon, you can have a little, but no more than one glass. Louis, you can't drink." Joseph turned to his brothers as he poured himself a full glass of wine.

"It's unfortunate to have a brother." Armand said.

"Armand, you still have a problem with this script, and it's a big one." Joseph butted in.

"What's the problem?" Armand asked hurriedly.

"It's so poignant, it'll be banned if we don't make changes. But making modifications doesn't have such a vibrating power." Joseph replied.