THE WISDOM KEEPER
At length the South Wind came again and stripped the earth of its white
snow mantle. The wild geese returned to their old haunts in the
sheltered inlets and reedy streams, and the voice of the cuckoo was
heard in the groves of poplar. Joyful then were the voices of the
children as they sought for the first wildflowers in the woods, and
jocund were the songs of maid and matron as they bustled hither and
thither, caring for the house, caring for the garden, caring for the
lambs and the young reindeer.
Very early one morning, the Minstrel went out secretly to the place
where he had sought to build his magic boat. There, high on the shore,
the unfinished vessel lay, its hull of oakwood smooth and flawless, its
prow of copper gleaming in the sunlight. Only three things were lacking
to make it ready for the launching—three magic strokes to drive the
three bolts that would fasten the three planks which still hung loose
at the bottom of the hull. The Minstrel looked at the fair boat
steadfastly; he viewed it from this side and from that, and then hot
tears came into his eyes and trickled down upon his beard. He threw
himself headlong upon the ground, and groaned with anguish.
“Ah, my beautiful, my beautiful one!” he murmured. “Who would believe
that for the lack of only three words thou shouldst lie here forever,
unnoticed, unfinished, forgotten? Alas! I shall never see thee skimming
over the waves; thou wilt never carry me to Pohyola’s dreary shores;
thou wilt never bring the Maid of Beauty hither to be the queen of my
house and the joy of my heart!”
Suddenly he sprang up, startled by a voice. He looked around him, and,
half hidden among the brushwood, he saw the dwarfish earth man, Sampsa,
standing with cap in hand, his small eyes twinkling.
“Master, why do you grieve so sorely?” asked the little planter of the
forests.
“O friend and gentle helper,” answered Wainamoinen, “I grieve for the
lack of three words with which to finish my magic vessel. Do you know
where they are? Can you tell me how to find them?”
The little man came out of the brushwood and stood on the sand beside
the unfinished boat. He pointed with his right hand towards the forest
and the blue hills beyond it, and spoke in low, half-whispered tones as
if revealing a forbidden secret:
“Far away, near at hand, in his own large realm of mystery, lies the
giant Wipunen, the Wisdom Keeper, whom men sometimes call Nature. He is
wiser than all wizards and stronger than all strong men. From him you
may learn a hundred wisdom words—yes, a thousand volumes of wisdom
words—if you will only do that which is required to earn such great
knowledge. Go, find him and ask him for what you need.”
“But how shall I go, not knowing the road? Where is he to be found?”
“The footpath to his kingdom is a magic highway,” said the earth man.
“It lies deep, deep in the forest, and you must travel far upon it.
First, you must walk long leagues upon the points of needles. Then your
feet must press upon the sharpened blades of a thousand swords. Lastly,
you must pick your way between the points of glistening spears and the
edges of gleaming battle-axes. Have you the courage to undertake the
journey?”
“Courage!” cried the Minstrel. “Did I not once venture even to cross
the dark river that divides our world from Tuoni’s kingdom? Why should
I talk of courage?”
“But Wipunen will not tell you his secrets willingly,” said the dwarf.
“You must overcome him in fair battle, and then he will whisper sweet
words of magic into your ear. If you fail in the contest your life will
be forfeited. Will you take the risk?”
“Trust me for that,” said the Minstrel fearlessly. Then he thanked the
earth man heartily for his counsel, and with hopeful steps hastened to
the smithy where Ilmarinen was toiling beside his flaming forge.
“Friend and brother,” he said, breathing fast with eagerness, “I have
come to ask your help. I am going on a journey to find some lost words
that are very necessary to a minstrel. I am going to seek the mighty
giant, even Wipunen, the all-knowing. He it is who understands every
secret and who keeps the key to all the mysteries of earth and sky. I
doubt not but I may obtain the words from him.”
“You need not travel far,” answered the Smith. “Wipunen the giant lies
all around us, under us, above us. He dwells in the fields, he rests in
the forests, he sings in the brooks, he abides in the deep sea. You are
a wise man, my brother. It is strange that you should have lived so
long without becoming acquainted with this mighty power.”
“Nay, nay!” cried Wainamoinen impatiently. “The Wipunen that I seek
dwells in his own kingdom, far from the haunts of men. I know him, and
I know of the footpaths which lead to his distant abode. Waste no more
time in idle talking. Ask me no questions; but if you love me make for
me the things I must have for my journey. Make two shoes of iron for my
feet, and a pair of copper gloves for my hands, and a slender spear of
strongest metal to be my weapon. Do this for me promptly, quickly, for
I am impatient to be gone.”
Ilmarinen answered not a word, but hastened to obey. He heaped fresh
fuel upon his fire and turned again to his bellows and his forge. All
that day and all that night the smoke rolled black from the smithy
chimney, and the hammer and anvil sang continuously their sweetest
song. And lo! at sunrise time on the second day the work was done.
“Here, my dearest brother, are the shoes, the gloves, and the slender
spear—the best that were ever made,” said the Smith. “Take them, and
may they speed you on your way!”
The Minstrel thanked him; and when he had donned his strange armor of
iron and copper he started on his perilous journey. With the aid of
Sampsa, the forest planter, he found the footpath to Wipunen’s kingdom.
Narrow indeed it was, and crooked, and intricate; but for one whole
day—yes, for two days and even three—he followed it, never swerving. On
the fourth day, he ran for leagues upon the sharpened points of
needles; but his shoes of iron protected him. On the fifth day he
toiled over the upturned edges of mighty swords; but his gloves of
copper turned them aside that they did him no harm. On the sixth day he
dodged one way then another to escape the cruel points of spears and
the gleaming blades of battle-axes. And lo! on the seventh day, he came
suddenly upon the great giant himself, lying prone upon the earth amid
the vast, eternal solitudes—lying prone upon the earth and gazing
upward into the solemn sky and the unmeasured depths of infinity.
Old, yes older than all other things, was this mighty Wipunen, the
Wisdom Keeper, the guardian of the world’s secrets. On each of his
shoulders an aspen tree was growing; his eyebrows were groves of
birches; willow bushes formed his matted beard. His eyes were two
crystal lakes of wondrous depth and clearness. His mouth was a yawning
cavern flanked by teeth of whitest marble. And from his nostrils came a
sweetness like that of the gentle South Wind after it has passed over
vast gardens of early violets.
Filled with wonder and awe, the Minstrel drew nearer. Then he saw that
in one of the giant’s hands was a casket wherein were contained the
magic songs of all the ages, while in the other lay the golden key to
the mystic house of knowledge. He peered into the half open, cavernous
mouth of Wipunen, and lo! on the tip of his tongue were the wisdom
words of every people and clime.
“Rise, O master of magicians!” cried Wainamoinen, boldly, loudly.
“Rise, O fountain of knowledge! Make me a partaker of your wisdom. Give
me I pray you three words of magic power—three words that I lack and
greatly desire.”
But the giant heeded not. He lay motionless and silent, gazing
steadfastly into the heavens and framing new thoughts of beauty and
power to add to the treasures of wisdom that were in his keeping.
Then the Minstrel grew impatient and shouted his prayer still louder.
He raised the sharp spear which Ilmarinen had fashioned, and struck the
giant fiercely, forcibly. He struck him in the side, not once only, but
twice—yes, nine times, ten times—without fear or pity. With the tenth
stroke the Wisdom Keeper quivered and turned his head and, in tones
mightier than thunder, began to sing.
He sang of the birds and the flowers, of the vast forest and the
eternal hills, of the boundless sea and of still waters in sunny
places. He sang of the heroes and the wise men of ancient days; he sang
of youth and age, of good and evil, of life and death. Then he raised
his voice still higher, and the music of his words was echoed from the
four corners of the sky. He sang of the creation: how the earth arose
in the midst of the waters; how the forests were planted and the
wildflowers were taught to bloom; how the monsters of land and sea and
the timid creatures of the fields and woods were given life; and lastly
how the sky was shaped and the sun and moon and twinkling stars were
set in their places.
All day, from dawn till evening twilight, and all night, from darkness
till morning sunlight, the mighty Wipunen sang without ceasing. For two
whole days—yes, for three long summer days—his singing continued. And
such was the spell of his song that the moon stood still and listened,
the stars danced in the northern sky, and the deep sea hushed its
murmuring. Never before had such music been heard, never since has any
song been sung that equalled it, and never so long as the world endures
shall man again listen to words so sweet or to harmonies so divine.
And Wainamoinen? He sat entranced by the side of the mighty singer and
laid each word of song deep down in the treasury of his memory. He
learned not only the three wisdom words which he had sought so
zealously, but a thousand others of rare beauty and splendid power.
“O mighty master!” he cried, when at length the singing ceased. “O
matchless giant of the solitudes! I have found what I desired, I have
received priceless gifts of which I never dreamed. Lie still now and
rest again in the silent loneliness of your chosen kingdom. Rest till
some other eager, earnest, querying learner shall venture hither in
quest of wisdom. I give you thanks, thanks, thanks; for well I know
that you desire no other fee. Farewell!”
Then, without more ado, he hastened homeward through the forest.
Swiftly as a red deer when chased by wolves, swiftly as a sparrow on
the wing, he glided over hills and marsh lands till at last he came
again to Wainola and the smithy of Ilmarinen.
“Welcome, welcome, daring brother!” cried the master Smith. “Did you
find the Wisdom Keeper in his own mysterious abode? Have you learned
the three lost words so necessary to your business?”
“Yes, yes, dear comrade!” answered the joyful Minstrel. “Not only three
words have I learned, but a hundred; and a thousand wonderful secrets
do I know—secrets which the master of knowledge whispered in my ear.”
“How fortunate you are!” said the master Smith, “and your good fortune
shall be ours also; for I know that we shall soon hear some wonderful
new songs from your lips. Perhaps, also, you will tell us all about
those strange bits of wisdom which you have acquired from the mighty
keeper.”
“Perhaps!” answered the Minstrel.