Collected Works. GEORGE BERNARD SHAW
Yet if I stop fighting I commit suicide as a great man and become a common one. How am I to escape the horns of this tragic dilemma? Victory I can guarantee: I am invincible. But the cost of victory is the demoralization, the depopulation, the ruin of the victors no less than of the vanquished. How am I to satisfy my genius by fighting until I die? that is my question to you.
THE ORACLE. Were you not rash to venture into these sacred islands with such a question on your lips? Warriors are not popular here, my friend.
NAPOLEON. If a soldier were restrained by such a consideration, madam, he would no longer be a soldier. Besides [he produces a pistol], I have not come unarmed.
THE ORACLE. What is that thing?
NAPOLEON. It is an instrument of my profession, madam. I raise this hammer; I point the barrel at you; I pull this trigger that is against my forefinger; and you fall dead.
THE ORACLE. Shew it to me [she puts out her hand to take it from him].
NAPOLEON [retreating a step] Pardon me, madam. I never trust my life in the hands of a person over whom I have no control.
THE ORACLE [sternly] Give it to me [she raises her hand to her veil].
NAPOLEON [dropping the pistol and covering his eyes] Quarter! Kamerad! Take it, madam [he kicks it towards her]: I surrender.
THE ORACLE. Give me that thing. Do you expect me to stoop for it?
NAPOLEON [taking his hands from his eyes with an effort] A poor victory, madam [he picks up the pistol and hands it to her]: there was no vector strategy needed to win it. [Making a pose of his humiliation] But enjoy your triumph: you have made me—ME! Cain Adamson Charles Napoleon! Emperor of Turania! cry for quarter.
THE ORACLE. The way out of your difficulty, Cain Adamson, is very simple.
NAPOLEON [eagerly] Good. What is it?
THE ORACLE. To die before the tide of glory turns. Allow me [she shoots him].
He falls with a shriek. She throws the pistol away and goes haughtily into the temple.
NAPOLEON [scrambling to his feet] Murderess! Monster! She-devil! Unnatural, inhuman wretch! You deserve to be hanged, guillotined, broken on the wheel, burnt alive. No sense of the sacredness of human life! No thought for my wife and children! Bitch! Sow! Wanton! [He picks up the pistol]. And missed me at five yards! Thats a woman all over.
He is going away whence he came when Zoo arrives and confronts him at the head of a party consisting of the British Envoy, the Elderly Gentleman, the Envoy's wife, and her daughter, aged about eighteen. The envoy, a typical politician, looks like an imperfectly reformed criminal disguised by a good tailor. The dress of the ladies is coeval with that of the Elderly Gentleman, and suitable for public official ceremonies in western capitals at the XVIII-XIX fin de siècle.
They file in under the portico. Zoo immediately comes out imperiously to Napoleon's right, whilst the Envoy's wife hurries effusively to his left. The Envoy meanwhile passes along behind the columns to the door, followed by his daughter. The Elderly Gentleman stops just where he entered, to see why Zoo has swooped so abruptly on the Emperor of Turania.
ZOO [to Napoleon, severely] What are you doing here by yourself? You have no business to go about here alone. What was that noise just now? What is that in your hand?
Napoleon glares at her in speechless fury; pockets the pistol; and produces a whistle.
THE ENVOY'S WIFE. Arnt you coming with us to the oracle, sire?
NAPOLEON. To hell with the oracle, and with you too [he turns to go]!
THE ENVOY'S WIFE} [together] {Oh, sire!!
ZOO} {Where are you going?}
NAPOLEON. To fetch the police. [He goes out past Zoo, almost jostling her, and blowing piercing blasts on his whistle].
ZOO [whipping out her tuning-fork and intoning] Hallo Galway Central. [The whistling continues]. Stand by to isolate. [To the Elderly Gentleman, who is staring after the whistling Emperor] How far has he gone?
THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. To that curious statue of a fat old man.
ZOO [quickly, intoning] Isolate the Falstaff monument isolate hard. Paralyze—[the whistling stops]. Thank you. [She puts up her tuning-fork]. He shall not move a muscle until I come to fetch him.
THE ENVOY'S WIFE. Oh! he will be frightfully angry! Did you hear what he said to me?
ZOO. Much we care for his anger!
THE DAUGHTER [coming forward between her mother and Zoo]. Please, madam, whose statue is it? and where can I buy a picture postcard of it? It is so funny. I will take a snapshot when we are coming back; but they come out so badly sometimes.
ZOO. They will give you pictures and toys in the temple to take away with you. The story of the statue is too long. It would bore you [she goes past them across the courtyard to get rid of them].
THE WIFE [gushing] Oh no, I assure you.
THE DAUGHTER [copying her mother] We should be so interested.
ZOO. Nonsense! All I can tell you about it is that a thousand years ago, when the whole world was given over to you shortlived people, there was a war called the War to end War. In the war which followed it about ten years later, hardly any soldiers were killed; but seven of the capital cities of Europe were wiped out of existence. It seems to have been a great joke: for the statesmen who thought they had sent ten million common men to their deaths were themselves blown into fragments with their houses and families, while the ten million men lay snugly in the caves they had dug for themselves. Later on even the houses escaped; but their inhabitants were poisoned by gas that spared no living soul. Of course the soldiers starved and ran wild; and that was the end of pseudo-Christian civilization. The last civilized thing that happened was that the statesmen discovered that cowardice was a great patriotic virtue; and a public monument was erected to its first preacher, an ancient and very fat sage called Sir John Falstaff. Well [pointing], thats Falstaff.
THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN [coming from the portico to his granddaughter's right] Great Heavens! And at the base of this monstrous poltroon's statue the War God of Turania is now gibbering impotently.
ZOO. Serve him right! War God indeed!
THE ENVOY [coming between his wife and Zoo] I don't know any history: a modern Prime Minister has something better to do than sit reading books; but—
THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN [interrupting him encouragingly] You make history, Ambrose.
THE ENVOY. Well, perhaps I do; and perhaps history makes me. I hardly recognize myself in the newspapers sometimes, though I suppose leading articles are the materials of history, as you might say. But what I want to know is, how did war come back again? and how did they make those poisonous gases you speak of? We should be glad to know; for they might come in very handy if we have to fight Turania. Of course I am all for peace, and don't hold with the race of armaments in principle; still, we must keep ahead or be wiped out.
ZOO. You can make the gases for yourselves when your chemists find out how. Then you will do as you did before: poison each other until there are no chemists left, and no civilization. You will then begin all over again as half-starved ignorant savages, and fight with boomerangs and poisoned arrows until you work up to the poison gases and high explosives once more, with the same result. That is, unless we have sense enough to make an end of this ridiculous game by destroying you.
THE ENVOY [aghast] Destroying us!
THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. I told you, Ambrose. I warned you.
THE ENVOY. But—
ZOO [impatiently] I wonder what Zozim is doing. He ought to be here to receive you.
THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. Do you mean that rather insufferable young man whom