“Behold, O king, thy secret,” he cried. And with his other hand he smote the staff which was pointing down into the depths. The staff swung to and fro many times, and at last it came to rest again.
Then the king besought him to explain what this might signify.
“Thou hast been,” replied the old man, “as one who, wishing to make a staff swing to and fro, has made every movement separately, raising it up by his hand each time that it falls down. But, behold, when I set it in movement it goes through many swings of itself, both downward and upward, until the movement I imparted to it is lost. Even so thou must make these beings go through both pleasure and pain, thyself bearing but the difference, not taking all the pain.”
“Must I then,” asked the king, “by bearing pain give these beings a certain store of pleasure, and then let them go through their various actions until they have exhausted this store of pleasure?”
Then the old man made answer. “Can I have any secrets from thee? Hearken, O king, and I will tell thee what lies behind the shows of the world. What I have shown thee is an outward sign and symbol of what thou shouldst do, but it lies far outside those recesses whither I shall lead thee. Thou couldst indeed give these beings a store of pleasure, and they would go through their actions until it was all spent; but then thou wouldst be as one of themselves. Thou wouldst have to perform the painful part of some action and let them perform the pleasant part, and thus thou wouldst be immersed in the same chain of actions wherein they were. For regard my staff as it begins to swing. It is not I that make the movement that is imparted to it; that movement lay stored up in my arm, and when I struck the staff with my arm it was as if I had let another staff fall which in its falling gave up its movement to the one I held in my hand.”
“Where, then, does the movement go to when the staff ceases to swing,” asked the king.
“It goes to the finer particles of the air, and passes on and on. There is an endless chain. It is as if there were numberless staffs, larger and smaller, and when one falls it either raises itself or passes on its rising to another or to others. There is an endless chain of movement to and fro, and as one ceases another comes. But, O king, I wish to take thee behind this long chain and to place thee where thou mayest not say, I will do this or that; but where thou canst say, This whole chain of movement shall be or shall not. For as thou regardest this staff swinging thou seest that it moves as much up as it does down, as much to right as to left. And if the movements which it goes through came together it would be at rest. Its motion is but stillness separated into equal and opposite motions. And in what thou callest rest there are vast movements. It shall be thine, O king, to strike nothingness asunder and make things be. Nay, O king, I have not given thee these beings in the valley for thee to move by outward deeds, but I have given them to thee such that thou canst strike their apathy asunder and let them live. And know, O king, that even as those beings are whom thou hast found, so are all things in the valley down to the smallest. The smallest particle there is in the valley lies, unless it were for me, without motion. Each particle has the power of feeling pain and of feeling pleasure, but by the law of the valley these are equal. Hence of itself no particle moves. But I make it move, and all things in the valley sooner or later move back to whence they came. The streams which gather far off in the valley I lead along to where they fall into the depths between us. There they shiver themselves into the smallest fragments, and each fragment I cause to return whence it first came. And, O king, in all this movement, since it ends where it began, there is no more pleasure than pain. It is but the apathy of rest broken asunder. But the particles will not go through this round of themselves. I bear the pain to make them go through, each one the round I appoint it.”
“How then,” exclaimed the king, thinking of the pain he had felt in directing the movements of the children, “canst thou bear all this pain?”
“It is not much,” answered the old man; “and were it more I would willingly bear it for thee. For think of a particle which has made the whole round of which I spoke to you—it will make this journey if on the whole there is the slightest gain of pleasure over pain; and thus, although for each particle in its movement at every moment I bear the difference of pain, the pain for each particle is so minute that the whole course of natural movements in the valley weighs upon me but little. And behold all lies ready for thee, O king. I have done all that I can do. I can perfect each natural process, each quality of the ground, each plant and herb I make, up to the beings whom thou hast found. They are my last work, and into your hands I give them.”
And when he had said this, the old man let drop his staff, and placing both hands to his breast he seemed to draw something therefrom, and with both hands to fling it to the king.