I
I will not speak of public morals, for there are none, but this reminds me of an anecdote:
When, on the heights of the Caucasus, Prometheus found that chains, clamps, strait-waistcoats, parapets, and other scruples, had on the whole a numbing effect on him, for a change he turned to the left, stretched his right arm and, between the fourth and fifth hours of an autumn afternoon, walked down the boulevard which leads from the Madeleine to the Opéra. Different Parisian celebrities passed continually before his eyes. Where are they going? Prometheus asked himself, and settling himself in a café with a book he asked: “Waiter, where are they going?”
THE HISTORY OF THE WAITER AND THE MIGLIONAIRE
—If his lordship could see them coming and going every day as I do, said the waiter, he would also ask where do they come from? It must be the same place, as they pass every day. I say to myself: Since they always return they cannot have found what they want. I now wait for his lordship to ask me: What are they looking for? and his lordship will see what I shall reply.
Then Prometheus asked: What are they looking for?
The waiter replied: Since they do not remain where they go, it cannot be happiness. His lordship may believe me or not, and, coming nearer, he said in a low voice: They are looking for their personalities;—His lordship does not live here?...
—One can easily see that, said the waiter; Yes: personality; we call it here idiosyncrasy: Like me (for example), from what you see, you think I am just a waiter in a restaurant! Well! your lordship, no! It is by choice; you may believe me or not: I have an inner life: I observe. Personalities are the only interesting things; and then the relations between personalities. It is very well arranged in this restaurant; tables for three; I will explain the management later on. You will dine soon, will you not? We will introduce you....
Prometheus was a little tired. The waiter continued: Yes, tables for three, that is what I found the easiest: three gentlemen arrive; they are introduced; they are introduced (if they wish it, of course), for in my restaurant before dining you must give your name; then say what you do; so much the worse if you deceive each other. Then you sit down (not I); you talk (not I, of course)—but I put you in sympathy; I listen; I scrutinize; I direct the conversation. At the end of dinner I know three inner men, three personalities! They, no. I, you understand, I listen, I bring into relation; they submit to the relationship.... You will ask me: What do you gain by this? Oh, nothing at all! It pleases me to create relationships.... Oh! not for me!... It is what one could call an absolutely gratuitous act.
Prometheus appeared a little tired. The waiter continued: A gratuitous act! Does this convey nothing to you?—To me it seems extraordinary. I thought for a long time that this was the one thing that distinguished man from the animals—a gratuitous act. I called man an animal capable of a gratuitous act;—and then afterwards I thought the contrary; that man is the only being incapable of acting gratuitously;—gratuitously! just think; without reason—yes, I hear—shall we say without motive; incapable! then this idea began to fidget me. I said to myself: why does he do this? why does he do that? ... and yet I am not a determinist ... but that reminds me of an anecdote:
—I have a friend, my lord, you will hardly believe me, who he is a miglionaire. He is also intelligent. He said to himself: A gratuitous act? how to do it? And understand this does not only mean an act that brings no return.... No, but gratuitous: an act that has no motive. Do you understand? no interest, no passion, nothing. The act disinterested; born of itself; the act without aim, thus without master; the free act; the act Autochthon!
—Hey? said Prometheus.
—Listen well, said the waiter. My friend went out one morning, taking with him a bank-note of £20 in an envelope and a blow prepared in his hand.
The point was to find somebody without choosing him. So he drops his handkerchief in the street, and, to the man who picks it up (evidently kindly since he picked it up), the miglionaire:
—Pardon, sir, do you not know some one?
The other:—Yes, several.
The miglionaire: Then, sir, will you have the kindness to write his name on this envelope; here is a table, pens, and a pencil....
The other, good-naturedly, writes, then:—Now, sir, will you explain yourself...?
The miglionaire replies: It is on principle; then (I forgot to tell you he is very strong) he strikes him with the blow he had in his hand; then calls a cab and disappears.
Do you understand?—two gratuitous acts in one go! The bank-note of £20 sent to an address which he had not selected, and the blow given to a person who selected himself to pick up the handkerchief. No! but is it gratuitous enough? And the relation? I bet you have not seriously scrutinized the relationship; for, as the act is gratuitous, it is what we call here reversible: One receives £20 for a blow, and the other a blow for £20 ... then.... No one knows ... one is lost—think of it! A gratuitous act! There is nothing more demoralizing.—But my lord is beginning to be hungry; I beg his lordship’s pardon; I forget myself, I talk too much.... Will his lordship kindly give me his name,—so that I can introduce him....
—Prometheus, said Prometheus simply.
—Prometheus! I was right, his lordship is a stranger here ... and his lordship’s occupation is...?
—I do nothing, said Prometheus.
—Oh! no. No, said the waiter with an ingratiating smile.—Only to see his lordship, one knows at once that he is a man with an occupation.
—It is so long ago, stammered Prometheus.
—Never mind, never mind, continued the waiter. Anyway, his lordship need not be uneasy; in introducing I only say the name, if you like; but the occupation never. Come, tell me: his lordship’s occupation is...?
—Making matches, murmured Prometheus, blushing.
There followed a painful silence, the waiter understanding that he should not have insisted, Prometheus feeling that he should not have answered.
In a consoling tone: Well! after all his lordship does not make them any more ... said the waiter. But then, what? I must write down something, I cannot write simply: Prometheus. His lordship has perhaps an avocation, a speciality.... After all, what can his lordship do?
—Nothing, again said Prometheus.
—Then let us say: Journalist.—Now, if his lordship will come into the restaurant; I cannot serve dinner outside. And he cried:—A table for three! one!...
By two doors two gentlemen entered; they could be seen giving their names to the waiter; but the introductions not having been asked for, without more ado the two men both sat down.
And when they had sat down: