Once upon a time there lived a youth who was never happy unless he was
prying into something that other people knew nothing about. After he had
learned to understand the language of birds and beasts, he discovered
accidentally that a great deal took place under cover of night which
mortal eyes never saw. From that moment he felt he could not rest till
these hidden secrets were laid bare to him, and he spent his whole time
wandering from one wizard to another, begging them to open his eyes,
but found none to help him. At length he reached an old magician called
Mana, whose learning was greater than that of the rest, and who could
tell him all he wanted to know. But when the old man had listened
attentively to him, he said, warningly:
‘My son, do not follow after empty knowledge, which will not bring you
happiness, but rather evil. Much is hidden from the eyes of men, because
did they know everything their hearts would no longer be at peace.
Knowledge kills joy, therefore think well what you are doing, or some
day you will repent. But if you will not take my advice, then truly I
can show you the secrets of the night. Only you will need more than a
man’s courage to bear the sight.’
He stopped and looked at the young man, who nodded his head, and then
the wizard continued, ‘To-morrow night you must go to the place where,
once in seven years, the serpent-king gives a great feast to his whole
court. In front of him stands a golden bowl filled with goats’ milk,
and if you can manage to dip a piece of bread in this milk, and eat it
before you are obliged to fly, you will understand all the secrets of
the night that are hidden from other men. It is lucky for you that the
serpent-king’s feast happens to fall this year, otherwise you would have
had long to wait for it. But take care to be quick and bold, or it will
be the worse for you.’
The young man thanked the wizard for his counsel, and went his way
firmly resolved to carry out his purpose, even if he paid for it with
his life; and when night came he set out for a wide, lonely moor, where
the serpent-king held his feast. With sharpened eyes, he looked eagerly
all round him, but could see nothing but a multitude of small hillocks,
that lay motionless under the moonlight. He crouched behind a bush
for some time, till he felt that midnight could not be far off, when
suddenly there arose in the middle of the moor a brilliant glow, as if
a star was shining over one of the hillocks. At the same moment all the
hillocks began to writhe and to crawl, and from each one came hundreds
of serpents and made straight for the glow, where they knew they should
find their king. When they reached the hillock where he dwelt, which was
higher and broader than the rest, and had a bright light hanging over
the top, they coiled themselves up and waited. The whirr and confusion
from all the serpent-houses were so great that the youth did not dare to
advance one step, but remained where he was, watching intently all that
went on; but at last he began to take courage, and moved on softly step
by step.
What he saw was creepier than creepy, and surpassed all he had ever
dreamt of. Thousands of snakes, big and little and of every colour, were
gathered together in one great cluster round a huge serpent, whose body
was as thick as a beam, and which had on its head a golden crown, from
which the light sprang. Their hissings and darting tongues so terrified
the young man that his heart sank, and he felt he should never have
courage to push on to certain death, when suddenly he caught sight of
the golden bowl in front of the serpent-king, and knew that if he lost
this chance it would never come back. So, with his hair standing on end
and his blood frozen in his veins, he crept forwards. Oh! what a noise
and a whirr rose afresh among the serpents. Thousands of heads were
reared, and tongues were stretched out to sting the intruder to death,
but happily for him their bodies were so closely entwined one in the
other that they could not disentangle themselves quickly. Like lightning
he seized a bit of bread, dipped it in the bowl, and put it in his
mouth, then dashed away as if fire was pursuing him. On he flew as if a
whole army of foes were at his heels, and he seemed to hear the noise
of their approach growing nearer and nearer. At length his breath failed
him, and he threw himself almost senseless on the turf. While he lay
there dreadful dreams haunted him. He thought that the serpent-king with
the fiery crown had twined himself round him, and was crushing out his
life. With a loud shriek he sprang up to do battle with his enemy, when
he saw that it was rays of the sun which had wakened him. He rubbed his
eyes and looked all round, but nothing could he see of the foes of the
past night, and the moor where he had run into such danger must be at
least a mile away. But it was no dream that he had run hard and far, or
that he had drunk of the magic goats’ milk. And when he felt his limbs,
and found them whole, his joy was great that he had come through such
perils with a sound skin.
After the fatigues and terrors of the night, he lay still till mid-day,
but he made up his mind he would go that very evening into the forest to
try what the goats’ milk could really do for him, and if he would now be
able to understand all that had been a mystery to him. And once in the
forest his doubts were set at rest, for he saw what no mortal eyes had
ever seen before. Beneath the trees were golden pavilions, with flags of
silver all brightly lighted up. He was still wondering why the pavilions
were there, when a noise was heard among the trees, as if the wind had
suddenly got up, and on all sides beautiful maidens stepped from the
trees into the bright light of the moon. These were the wood-nymphs,
daughters of the earth-mother, who came every night to hold their
dances, in the forest. The young man, watching from his hiding place,
wished he had a hundred eyes in his head, for two were not nearly enough
for the sight before him, the dances lasting till the first streaks of
dawn. Then a silvery veil seemed to be drawn over the ladies, and they
vanished from sight. But the young man remained where he was till the
sun was high in the heavens, and then went home.
He felt that day to be endless, and counted the minutes till night
should come, and he might return to the forest. But when at last he got
there he found neither pavilions nor nymphs, and though he went back
many nights after he never saw them again. Still, he thought about them
night and day, and ceased to care about anything else in the world, and
was sick to the end of his life with longing for that beautiful vision.
And that was the way he learned that the wizard had spoken truly when he
said, ‘Blindness is man’s highest good.’
(Ehstnische Marchen.)