In the very first scene that Cyrano appears in, we are shown his great pride. He shows his utter disdain for the lords that protect Montfleury by ordering him off-stage, mid-play! Throughout his life, Cyrano offends a huge number of people due to his pride. He holds himself in such high regard, that he pays no heed to the impact of his actions on all but his closest friends. He even admits that he relishes antagonizing people. After booting Montfleury off the stage and outdueling Victomte de Valvert, Cyrano asks Le Bret how many enemies he has made that night. After listing a few Cyrano replies, “Enough! I am o’erjoyed!” This mentality seems deeply ingrained in him and is a huge factor in his death. Though his fighting prowess is unmatched, many enemies could stoop to cowardly lows to eliminate him. Even his friends observe it between themselves. Le Bret described Cyrano’s unrelenting attack on those around him by saying. “His letters now make him fresh enemies! Attacking the sham nobles, sham devout, sham brave, the thieving authors, all the world!” With so many great qualities as a leader, writer, and fighter. Cyrano feels obligated by his pride to denounce and condemn those around him that aren’t up to his standard. Not surprisingly, the tactless way he attacks those around him creates much bad feeling, and often embarrasses his targets. His pride leads directly to his downfall. Cyrano insulted one too many a noble and as a result, a lackey fatally injured him. Cyrano, the larger than life character, so perfect at so many things, so eloquent, was to fault for his own downfall.
Cyrano suffers from an inflated ego which mars his ability to accept help even in moments of need. In the first scene, he is offered as much food as he can eat by a refreshments girl but refuses it, despite the fact that he is obviously not capable of providing food for himself.
“LE BRET: How live the next month?. . .
I have nothing left.
(Showing the buffet): See, all you need. Serve yourself!
Although my Gascon pride would else forbid To take the least bestowal from your hands, My fear of wounding…