The Man of Destiny

have come for the despatches? Lady Overcome by the imagined horror. Don’t ask me. I must have come. Napoleon Why? Lady Because I must. Because there would have been no other way. Napoleon

With conviction. Because you would have wanted my letter enough to bear your fear. There is only one universal passion: fear. Of all the thousand qualities a man may have, the only one you will find as certainly in the youngest drummer boy in my army as in me, is fear. It is fear that makes men fight: it is indifference that makes them run away: fear is the mainspring of war. Fear! I know fear well, better than you, better than any woman. I once saw a regiment of good Swiss soldiers massacred by a mob in Paris because I was afraid to interfere: I felt myself a coward to the tips of my toes as I looked on at it. Seven months ago I revenged my shame by pounding that mob to death with cannon balls. Well, what of that? Has fear ever held a man back from anything he really wanted⁠—or a woman either? Never. Come with me; and I will show you twenty thousand cowards who will risk death every day for the price of a glass of brandy. And do you think there are no women in the army, braver than the men, because their lives are worth less? Psha! I think nothing of your fear or your bravery. If you had had to come across to me at Lodi, you would not have been afraid: once on the bridge, every other feeling would have gone down before the necessity⁠—the necessity⁠—for making your way to my side and getting what you wanted.

And now, suppose you had done all this⁠—suppose you had come safely out with that letter in your hand, knowing that when the hour came, your fear had tightened, not your heart, but your grip of your own purpose⁠—that it had ceased to be fear, and had become strength, penetration, vigilance, iron resolution⁠—how would you answer then if you were asked whether you were a coward?

Lady Rising. Ah, you are a hero, a real hero. Napoleon Pooh! there’s no such thing as a real hero. He strolls down the room, making light of her enthusiasm, but by no means displeased with himself for having evoked it. Lady Ah, yes, there is. There is a difference between what you call my bravery and yours. You wanted to win the battle of Lodi for yourself and not for anyone else, didn’t you? Napoleon Of course. Suddenly recollecting himself. Stop: no. He pulls himself piously together, and says, like a man conducting a religious service, I am only the servant of the French republic, following humbly in the footsteps of the heroes of classical antiquity. I win battles for humanity⁠—for my country, not for myself. Lady Disappointed. Oh, then you are only a womanish hero, after all. She sits down again, all her enthusiasm gone, her elbow on the end of the couch, and her cheek propped on her hand. Napoleon Greatly astonished. Womanish! Lady Listlessly. Yes, like me. With deep melancholy. Do you think that if I only wanted those despatches for myself, I dare venture into a battle for them? No: if that were all, I should not have the courage to ask to see you at your hotel, even. My courage is mere slavishness: it is of no use to me for my own purposes. It is only through love, through pity, through the instinct to save and protect someone else, that I can do the things that terrify me. Napoleon Contemptuously. Pshaw! He turns slightingly away from her. Lady Aha! now you see that I’m not really brave. Relapsing into petulant listlessness. But what right have you to despise me if you only win your battles for others? for your country! through patriotism! That is what I call womanish: it is so like a Frenchman! Napoleon Furiously. I am no Frenchman. Lady Innocently. I thought you said you won the battle of Lodi for your country, General Bu⁠—shall I pronounce it in Italian or French? Napoleon You are presuming on my patience, madam. I was born a French subject, but not in France. Lady Folding her arms on the end of the couch, and leaning on them with a marked access of interest in him. You were not born a subject at all, I think. Napoleon Greatly pleased, starting on a fresh march. Eh? Eh? You think not. Lady I am sure of it. Napoleon Well, well, perhaps not. The self-complacency of his assent catches his own ear. He stops short, reddening. Then, composing himself into a solemn attitude, modelled on the heroes of classical antiquity, he takes a high moral tone. But we must not live for ourselves alone, little one. Never forget that we should always think of others, and work for others, and lead and govern them for their own good. Self-sacrifice is the foundation of all true nobility of character. Lady Again relaxing her attitude with a sigh. Ah, it is easy to see that you have never tried it, General. Napoleon Indignantly, forgetting all about Brutus and Scipio. What do you mean by that speech, madam? Lady Haven’t you noticed that people always exaggerate the value of the things they haven’t got? The poor think they only need riches to be quite happy and good. Everybody worships truth, purity, unselfishness, for the same reason⁠—because they have no experience of them. Oh, if they only knew! Napoleon With angry derision. If they only knew! Pray, do you know? Lady With her arms stretched down and her hands clasped on her knees, looking straight before her. Yes. I had the misfortune to be born good. Glancing up at him for a moment. And it is a misfortune, I can tell you, General. I really am truthful and unselfish and all the rest of it; and it’s nothing