—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!