I

It was a few days after this that Prometheus, denounced by the over-zealous waiter, found himself in prison for making matches without a licence.

The prison was isolated from the rest of the world, and its only outlook was on to the sky. From the outside it had the appearance of a tower. In the inside Prometheus was consumed by boredom.

The waiter paid him a visit.

—Oh! said Prometheus smiling, I am so happy to see you! I was bored to death. Tell me, you who come from outside; the wall of this dungeon separates me from everything and I know nothing about other people. What is happening?—And you, first tell me what you are doing.—Since your scandal, replied the waiter nothing much; hardly anybody has been to the restaurant. We have lost a great deal of time in repairing the window.

—I am greatly distressed, said Prometheus;—but Damocles? Have you seen Damocles? He left the restaurant so quickly the other day; I was not able to say good-bye. I am so sorry. He seemed a very quiet person, well-mannered, and full of scruples; I was touched when he told me so naturally of his trouble.—I hope when he left the table he was happier?

—That did not last, said the waiter. I saw him the next day more uneasy than ever. In talking to me he cried. His greatest anxiety was the health of Cocles.

—Is he unwell? asked Prometheus.

—Cocles?—Oh no, replied the waiter. I will say more: He sees better since he sees with only one eye. He shows every one his glass eye, and is delighted when he is condoled with. When you see him, tell him that his new eye looks well, and that he wears it gracefully; but add how he must have suffered....

—He suffers then?

—Yes, perhaps, when people do not sympathize with him.

—But then, if Cocles is well and does not suffer, why is Damocles anxious?

—Because of that which Cocles should have suffered.

—You advise me then strongly....

—To say it, yes, but Damocles thinks it, and that’s what kills him.

—What else does he do?

—Nothing. This unique occupation wears him out. Between us, he is a man obsessed.—He says that without those £20 Cocles would not be miserable.

—And Cocles?

—He says the same.... But he has become rich.

—Really ... how?

—Oh! I do not know exactly;—but he has been talked about in the papers; and a subscription has been opened in his favour.—And what does he do with it?

—He is an artful fellow. With the money collected he thinks of founding a hospital.

—A hospital?

—Yes, a small hospital for the one eyed. He has made himself director of it.

—Ah bah! cried Prometheus; you interest me enormously.

—I hoped you would be interested, said the waiter.

—And tell me ... the Miglionaire?

—Oh! he, he is a wonderful chap!—If you imagine that all that upsets him! He is like me: he observes.... If it would amuse you, I will introduce you to him—when you come out of this....

—Well, by the way, why am I here? Prometheus said at last. What am I accused of? Do you know, waiter, you seem to know everything?

—My goodness no, pretended the waiter. All that I know is that it is only preliminary detention. After they have condemned you, you will know.

—Well, so much the better! said Prometheus. I always prefer to know.

—Good-bye, said the waiter; it is late. With you it is astonishing how the time flies.... But tell me: your eagle? What has become of him?

—Bless me! I have thought no more of him, said Prometheus. But when the waiter had gone Prometheus began to think of his eagle.

HE MUST INCREASE BUT I MUST DECREASE

And as Prometheus was bored in the evening, he called his eagle.—The eagle came.

—I have waited a long time for thee, said Prometheus.

Why didst thou not call me before? replied the eagle.For the first time Prometheus looked at his eagle, casually perched upon the twisted bars of the dungeon. In the golden light of the sunset he appeared more spiritless than ever; he was grey, ugly, stunted, surly, resigned, and miserable; he seemed too feeble to fly, seeing which Prometheus cried with pity.

—Faithful bird, he said to him, dost thou suffer?—tell me: what is the matter?

—I am hungry, said the eagle.

—Eat, said Prometheus, uncovering his liver.

The bird ate.

—I suffer, said Prometheus.

But the eagle said nothing more that day.

II

The next day at sunrise Prometheus longed for his eagle; he called it from the depth of the reddening dawn, and as the sun rose the eagle appeared. He had three more feathers and Prometheus sobbed with tenderness.

—How late thou comest, he said, caressing his feathers.

—It is because I cannot yet fly very fast, said the bird. I skim the ground....

—Why?

—I am so weak!

—What dost thou want to make thee fly faster?

—Thy liver.

—Very well, eat.

The next day the eagle had eight more feathers and a few days after he arrived before the dawn. Prometheus himself became very thin.

—Tell me of the world, he said to the eagle. What has happened to all the others?

—Oh! now I fly very high, replied the eagle; I see nothing but the sky and thee.

His wings had grown slowly bigger.

—Lovely bird, what hast thou to tell me this morning?

—I have carried my hunger through the air.

—Eagle, wilt thou never be less cruel?

—No! But I may become very beautiful.

Prometheus, enamoured of the future beauty of his eagle, gave him each day more to eat.

One evening the eagle did not leave him.

The next day it was the same.

He fascinated the prisoner by his gnawings; and, the prisoner, who fascinated him by his caresses, languished and pined away for love, all day caressing his feathers, sleeping at night beneath his wings, and feeding him as he desired.—The eagle did not stir night or day.

—Sweet eagle, who would have believed it?

—Believed what?

—That our love could be so charming.

—Ah! Prometheus....

—Tell me, my sweet bird! Why am I shut up here?

—What does that matter to thee? Am I not with thee?

—Yes; it matters little! but art thou pleased with me, beautiful eagle?

—Yes, if thou thinkest I am beautiful.

III

It was spring-time; around the bars of the tower the fragrant wisteria was in flower.

—One day we will go away, said the eagle.

—Really? cried Prometheus.

—Because I am now very strong and thou art thinner. I can carry thee.

—Eagle, my eagle!... Take me away.

And the eagle carried him away.

A CHAPTER WHILE WAITING THE NEXT ONE

That evening Cocles and Damocles met each other. They chatted together; but with a certain embarrassment.

—What can you expect? said Cocles, our points of view are so opposed.—Do you think so? replied Damocles. My only desire is that we understand each other.

—You say that, but you only understand yourself.

—And you, you do not even listen to what I say.

—I know all that you would say.

—Say it then if you know it.

—You pretend to know it better than I do.

—Alas! Cocles, you get cross;—but for the love of God tell me what ought I to do?

—Ah! nothing more for me, I beg you; you have already given me a glass eye....

—Glass, in lack of a better, my Cocles.

—Yes—after having half blinded me.

—But it was not I, dear Cocles.

—It was more or less; and in any case you can pay for the eye—thanks to my blow.

—Cocles! forget the past!...

—No doubt it pleases you to forget.

—That’s not what I mean to say to you.

—But what do you mean to say then? Go on, speak!—You do not listen to me.

—Because I know all that you would say!...

The discussion, for want of something new began to take a dangerous turn, when both men were suddenly arrested by an advertisement which ran as follows:

THIS EVENING AT 8 O’CLOCK
IN THE
HALL OF THE NEW MOONS
PROMETHEUS DELIVERED
WILL SPEAK OF
HIS
EAGLE

At 8.30 the Eagle will be presented and will perform some tricks. At 9 o’clock a collection will be made by the waiter on behalf of Cocles’ hospital.

—I must see that, said Cocles.

—I will go with you, said Damocles.

IV

In the Hall of the New Moons, at eight o’clock precisely, the crowd gathered.

Cocles sat on the left; Damocles on the right; and the rest of the public in the middle.

A thunder of applause greeted the entry of Prometheus; he mounted the steps of the platform, placed his eagle at the side of him, and pulled himself together.

In the hall there was a palpitating silence....

THE PETITIO PRINCIPII

—Gentlemen, began Prometheus, I do not pretend, alas! to interest you by what I am about to say, so I was careful to bring this eagle with me. After each tiresome part of my lecture he will play some tricks. I have also with me some indecent photographs and some fireworks, with which when I reach the most serious moments of my lecture I will try to distract the attention of the public. Thus, I dare to hope, gentlemen, for some attention. At each new head of my discourse I shall have the honour, gentlemen, to ask you to watch the eagle eating his dinner,—for, gentlemen, my discourse has three heads; I did not think it proper to reject this form, which is agreeable to my classical mind.—This being the exordium, I will tell you at once and without more ado, the first two heads of the discourse:First head: One must have an eagle.

Second head: In any case, we all have one.

Fearing that you will accuse me of prejudice, gentlemen; fearing also to interfere with my liberty of thought, I have prepared my lecture only up to that point; the third head will naturally unfold from the other two. I will let inspiration have all its own way.—As conclusion, the eagle, gentlemen, will make the collection.

—Bravo! Bravo! cried Cocles.

Prometheus drank a little water. The eagle pirouetted three times round Prometheus and then bowed. Prometheus looked round the hall, smiled at Damocles and at Cocles, and as no sign of restlessness was as yet shown he kept the fireworks for later on, and continued:

V

—However clever a rhetorician I may be gentlemen, in the presence of such perspicacious minds as yours I cannot juggle away the inevitable petitio principii which awaits me at the beginning of this lecture.

Gentlemen, try as we may, we cannot escape the petitio principii. Now; what is a petition of principles? Gentlemen, I dare to say it: Every petitio principii is an affirmation of temperament; for where principles are missing, there the temperament is affirmed.

When I declare: You must have an eagle you may all exclaim: Why?—Now, what answer can I make in reply that will not bring us back to that formula, which is the affirmation of my temperament: I do not love men: I love that which devours them. Temperament, gentlemen, is that which must affirm itself. A fresh petitio principii, you will say. But I have demonstrated that every petitio principii is an affirmation of temperament; and as I say one must affirm one’s temperament (for it is important), I repeat: I do not love men: I love that which devours them.—Now what devours man?—His eagle. Therefore, gentlemen, one must have an eagle. I think I have fully demonstrated this.

... Alas! I see, gentlemen, that I bore you; some of you are yawning. I could, it is true, here make a few jokes; but you would feel them out of place; I have an irredeemably serious mind.

I prefer to circulate among you some indecent photographs; they will keep those quiet who are feeling bored, which will enable me to go on.

Prometheus drank a drop of water. The eagle pirouetted three times round Prometheus and bowed. Prometheus went on:

CONTINUATION OF PROMETHEUS’ LECTURE

—Gentlemen, I have not always known my eagle. That is what makes me deduce, by a process of reasoning which the logic books I never studied till a week ago, call by some particular name I have forgotten—that is what makes me deduce, I say, that, even though the only eagle here is mine, you all, gentlemen, have an eagle.

I have said nothing, up to the present, of my own history; firstly because, up to the present, I have not understood it. And if I decide to speak of it now it is because, thanks to my eagle, it now appears to me marvellous.

VI

—Gentlemen, as I have already said, my eagle was not always with me. Before his time I was unconscious and beautiful, happy and naked and unaware. Oh! Charming days! On the many-fountained sides of the Caucasus, lascivious Asia, naked too and unaware, held me in her arms.

Together we sported, tumbling in the valleys; the air sang, the water laughed, the simplest flowers were fragrant for our delight. And often we lay beneath spreading branches, among flowers which were the haunt of murmuring bees.

Asia wedded me, all laughter and then the murmuring swarms and the rustling leaves, with which was mingled the music of the streams, gently lulled us to the sweetest of slumbers. Around us all consented—all protected our inhuman solitude.—Suddenly one day Asia said to me: You should interest yourself in men.

I first had to find them.

I was willing enough to interest myself in them—but it was to pity them.

They lived in such darkness; I invented for them certain kinds of fire, and from that moment my eagle began. And it is since that day that I have become aware that I am naked.

At these words, applause arose from various parts of the hall. All of a sudden Prometheus broke into sobs.

The eagle flapped his wings and cooed.

With an agonizing gesture Prometheus opened his waistcoat and offered his tortured liver to the bird.

The applause redoubled.

Then the eagle pirouetted three times round Prometheus, who drank a few drops of water, and continued his lecture in these words:

VII

—Gentlemen, my modesty overcame me. Excuse me, it is the first time I speak in public. But now it is my sincerity which overcomes me. Gentlemen, I have been more interested in men than I have ever admitted. Gentlemen, I have done a great deal for men. Gentlemen, I have passionately, wildly, and deplorably loved men—and I have done so much for them—one can almost say that I have made them; for before, what were they? They existed, but had no consciousness of existence; I made this consciousness like a fire to enlighten them, gentlemen; I made it with all the love I bore them.—The first consciousness they had was that of their beauty. It is this which caused the propagation of the race. Men were prolonged in their posterity. The beauty of the first was repeated, equally, indifferently, uneventfully. It could have lasted a long time.—Then I grew anxious, for I carried in me already, without knowing it, my eagle’s egg and I wanted more or better. This propagation, this piecemeal prolongation, seemed to me to indicate in them an expectancy—when in reality only my eagle was waiting. I did not know; that expectancy I thought was in man; that expectancy I put in man. Besides, having made man in my image, I now understood that in every man there was something hatching; in each one was the eagle’s egg.... And then, I do not know; I cannot explain this.—All that I know is that, not satisfied with giving them consciousness of existence, I also wished to give them a reason for existence. So I gave them Fire, flame and all the arts which a flame nourishes. By warming their minds, I brought forth the devouring faith in progress. And I was strangely happy when their health was consumed in producing it. No more belief in good, but the morbid hope for better. The belief in progress, gentlemen, that was their eagle. Our eagle is our reason for existence, gentlemen.

Man’s happiness grew less and less—but that was nothing to me: the eagle was born, gentlemen! I loved men no more, I loved what fed on them. I had had enough of a humanity without history.... The history of man is the history of their eagles, gentlemen.

VIII

Applause broke out here and there. Prometheus, abashed, excused himself:

—Gentlemen, I was lying: pardon me: it did not happen quite so quickly: No, I have not always loved eagles: For a long time I preferred men; their injured happiness was dear to me, because once having interfered I believed myself responsible, and in the evening every time I thought of it, my eagle, sad as remorse, came to eat.

He was at this time gaunt and grey, careworn and morose, and he was as ugly as a vulture.—Gentlemen, look at him now and understand why I tell you this; why I asked you to come here; why I entreat you to listen to me. It is because I have discovered this: the eagle can become very beautiful. Now, every one of us has an eagle; as I have just most earnestly asserted. An eagle?—Alas, a vulture perhaps! no, no, not a vulture, gentlemen!—Gentlemen, you must have an eagle....

And now I touch the most serious question:—Why an eagle?... Ah! Why?—let him say why. Here is mine, gentlemen; I bring him to you.... Eagle! Will you reply now? Anxiously Prometheus turned towards his eagle. The eagle was motionless and remained silent.... Prometheus continued in a distressed voice:

—Gentlemen, gentlemen, I have vainly questioned my eagle.... Eagle! speak now: every one listens to you.... Who sends you? Why have you chosen me? Where do you come from? Where do you go to? Speak: What is your nature? (The eagle remained silent.) No, nothing! Not a word! Not a cry!—I hoped he would speak to you at any rate; that is why I brought him with me.... Must I speak alone here?—All is silence!—All is silence!

What does it mean?... I have questioned in vain. Then turning towards the audience:

Oh! I hoped, gentlemen, that you would love my eagle, that your love would affirm his beauty.—That is why I gave myself up to him, that is why I filled him with the blood of my soul.... But I see I am alone in admiring him. Is it not enough for you that he is beautiful? Or do you not admit his beauty? Look at him at least. I have lived only for him—and now I bring him to you: There he is! As for me I live for him—but he ... but he, why does he live?

Eagle that I have nourished with the blood of my soul, whom with all my love I have caressed ... (here Prometheus was interrupted by sobs)—must I then leave the earth without knowing why I loved you, nor what you will do, nor what you will be, after me on the earth ... on the earth? I have ... asked in vain ... in vain....The words choked in his throat—his voice could not be heard through his tears.—Pardon me, gentlemen,—he continued a little calmer; pardon me for saying such serious things, but if I knew more serious ones I would say them....

Perspiring, Prometheus wiped his face, drank some water, and added:

THE END OF PROMETHEUS’ LECTURE

—I have only prepared my lecture up to this point....

... At these words there was a rustling among the audience; several, feeling bored, wished to go out.

—Gentlemen, cried Prometheus, I beseech you to stay, it will not be very long now; but the most important thing of all remains to be said, if I have not already persuaded you.... Gentlemen!—for goodness’ sake.... Here! quickly: a few fireworks; I will keep the best for the end.... Gentlemen!—sit down again, I pray you; look: do not think I want to economize: I light six at a time.—But first, waiter, shut the doors.

The fireworks were more or less effective. Nearly every one sat down again.

—But where was I? cried Prometheus. I counted upon getting under weigh; disturbance has checked me.

—So much the better, cried some one.

—Ah! I know ... continued Prometheus. I wished to tell you again....

—Enough! enough!! cried voices from all parts of the hall.

... That you must love your eagle.

Several cried “Why?” ironically.

—I hear, gentlemen, some one asks me “Why?” I reply: Because then he will become beautiful.

—But if we become ugly?

—Gentlemen, I do not speak here words of self-interest....

—One can see that.—They are words of self-devotion. Gentlemen, one must devote oneself to one’s eagle.... (Agitation—many get up.) Gentlemen, do not move: I will be personal. It is not necessary to remind you of the history of Cocles and Damocles.—All here know it. Well—Well! I will tell them to their faces: the secret of their lives is in their self-devotion to their debt: You, Cocles, to your blow; you, Damocles, to your bank-note. Cocles, your duty was to make your scar deeper and your empty orbit emptier, oh! Cocles! yours, Damocles, to keep your bank-note, to continue owing it, owing it without shame, owing even more, owing it with joy. There is your eagle; there are other and more glorious ones. But I tell you this: the eagle will devour us anyway—vice or virtue—duty or passion,—cease to be commonplace and you cannot escape it. But....

(Here the voice of Prometheus was barely heard in the tumult)—but if you do not feed your eagle lovingly he will remain grey and miserable, invisible to all and sly; then you will call him conscience, not worthy of the torments he causes; without beauty.—Gentlemen, you must love your eagle, love him to make him beautiful; for it is for his future beauty that you must love your eagle....

Now I have finished, gentlemen, my eagle will make the collection. Gentlemen, you must love my eagle.—In the meantime I will let off some fireworks....

Thanks to the pyrotechnic diversion, the assembly dispersed without too much trouble; but Damocles took cold on coming out of the hall.