Icelandic (Rittershaus, No. XLII, "Die Kunstreichen Brüder").--Although

this story is very different from any of ours, I call attention to

it here because Dr. Rittershaus says (p. 181) that in it we have,

"in allerdings verwischter Form, das Märchen von 'der Menschen

mit den wunderbaren Eigenschaften,'" and she refers to Benfey's

"Ausland" article. The collector states, however, that the story is

so different from the other Märchen belonging to this family, that no

further parallels can be adduced. As a matter of fact, this Icelandic

story is a combination of the "Skilful Companions" cycle with the

"Child and the Hand" cycle. For this combined Märchen, see Kittredge,

"Arthur and Gorlagon," 222-227.

It might be noted, in passing, that a connection between this type of

the "Rival Brothers" and the "Skilful Companions" cycle is established

through Gonzenbach's Sicilian story of "The Seven Brothers who had

Magic Articles," No. 45. (See Köhler's notes to this tale and also

to No. 74; to Widter-Wolf, No. 6 [Jahrb. f. rom. und eng. lit., VII];

and to V. Tagic, No. 46 [Köhler-Bolte, 438-440].)

I have not attempted to give an exhaustive bibliographical account

of this cycle of the "Rival Brothers," but have merely suggested

points that seem to me particularly significant in its history and

development. So far as our four Filipino examples are concerned, I

think that it is perfectly clear that in their present form, at least,

they have been derived from Europe. There is so much divergence among

them, however, and they are so widely separated from one another

geographically, that it would be fruitless to search for a common

ancestor of the four.

The Ilocano story is the best in outline, and is fairly close to Grimm,

No. 129, though there are only three brothers in the Filipino tale, and

there is no skill contest held by the mother before the youths set out

to rescue the princess. The all-seeing telescope and the clever thief,

however, are found in both. The solution at the end is the same: the

king keeps his daughter, and divides half a kingdom among her rescuers.

The Pangasinan tale has obviously been garbled. The use of two magic

articles with properties so nearly the same, the taking ship by the

three brothers when they had a transportation-mat at their service,

and finally the inhuman decision of the king, [49]--all suggest either

a confusion of stories, or a contamination of old native analogies,

or crude manufacture on the part of some narrator. It may be remarked,

however, that the life-restoring book is analogous to the magic book

in "Vetâlapancavinçati," No. 2, while the repairing of the shattered

ship by means of the magic stones suggests the stitching-together of

the planks in Grimm, No. 129. The setting appears to be modern.

In the first Tagalog story (c) the three men are not brothers. They

are given the magic objects as a reward for kindness. The sentimental

dénouement reads somewhat smug and strained after all three men have

been represented as equally kind-hearted. The shooting-contest with

arrows to decide the question, however, may be reminiscent of the

"1001 Nights" version. For the resuscitating flute in droll stories,

see Bolte-Polívka's notes to Grimm, No. 61 (episode G1). The book of

knowledge suggests the magic book in the Pangasinan version.

TALE 13

THE RICH AND THE POOR.

Narrated by José L. Gomez, a Tagalog from Rizal province.

Once upon a time there lived in the town of Pasig two honest men who

were intimate friends. They were called Mayaman [50] and Mahirap,

[51] because one was much richer than the other.

One pleasant afternoon these two men made up their minds to take a

long walk into the neighboring woods. Here, while they were talking

happily about their respective fortunes, they saw in the distance

a poor wood-cutter, who was very busy cutting and collecting fagots

for sale. This wood-cutter lived in a mean cottage on the outskirts

of a little town on the opposite shore of the lake, and he maintained

his family by selling pieces of wood gathered from this forest.

When they saw the poor man, Mayaman said to his friend, "Now, which

one of us can make that wood-cutter rich?"

"Well, even though I am much poorer than you," said Mahirap, "I can

make him rich with just the few cents I have in my pocket."

They agreed, however, that Mayaman should be the first to try to make

the poor man rich. So Mayaman called out to the wood-cutter, and said,

"Do you want to be rich, my good man?"

"Certainly, master, I should like to be rich, so that my family might

not want anything," said the wood-cutter.

Pointing to his large house in the distance, Mayaman said, "All

right. Come to my house this evening on your way home, and I will

give you four bags of my money. If you don't become rich on them,

come back, and I will give you some more."

The wood-cutter was overjoyed at his good luck, and in the evening

went to Mayaman's house, where he received the money. He placed

the bags in the bottom of his banca, [52] and sailed home. When he

reached his little cottage, he spread out all the gold and silver

money on the floor. He was delighted at possessing such wealth, and

determined first of all to buy household articles with it; but some

dishonest neighbors, soon finding out that the wood-cutter had much

money in the house, secretly stole the bags.

Then the wood-cutter, remembering the rich man's promise, hastily

prepared his banca and sailed across to Pasig. When Mayaman saw the

wood-cutter, he said, "Are you rich now, my good man?"

"O kind master!" said the wood-cutter, "I am not yet rich, for some

one stole my bags of money."

"Well, here are four more bags. See that you take better care of them."

The wood-cutter reached home safely with this new wealth; but

unfortunately it was stolen, too, during the night.

Three more times he went to Mayaman, and every time received four

bags of money; but every time was it stolen from him by his neighbors.

Finally, on his sixth application, Mayaman did not give the wood-cutter

money, but presented him with a beautiful ring. "This ring will

preserve you from harm," he said, "and will give you everything

you ask for. With it you can become the richest man in town; but be

careful not to lose it!"

While the wood-cutter was sailing home that evening, he thought he

would try the ring by asking it for some food. So he said, "Beautiful

ring, give me food! for I am hungry." In an instant twelve different

kinds of food appeared in his banca, and he ate heartily. But after he

had eaten, the wind calmed down: so he said to the ring, "O beautiful

ring! blow my banca very hard, so that I may reach home quickly." He

had no sooner spoken than the wind rose suddenly. The sail and mast of

his little boat were blown away, and the banca itself sank. Forgetting

all about his ring, the unfortunate man had to swim for his life. He

reached the shore safely, but was greatly distressed to find that he

had lost his valuable ring. So he decided to go back to Mayaman and

tell him all about his loss.

The next day he borrowed a banca and sailed to Pasig; but when Mayaman

had heard his story, he said, "My good man, I have nothing more to

give you." Then Mayaman turned to his friend Mahirap, and said, "It

is your turn now, Mahirap. See what you can do for this poor man to

enrich him." Mahirap gave the poor wood-cutter five centavos,--all

he had in his pocket,--and told him to go to the market and buy a

fish with it for his supper.

The wood-cutter was disappointed at receiving so small an amount,

and sailed homeward in a very downcast mood; but when he arrived at

his town, he went straight to the market. As he was walking around the

fish-stalls, he saw a very fine fat fish. So he said to the tendera,

[53] "How much must I pay for that fat fish?"

"Well, five centavos is all I'll ask you for it," said she.

"Oh, I have only five centavos; and if I give them all to you, I

shall have no money to buy rice with. So please let me have the fish

for three!" said the wood-cutter. But the tendera refused to sell the

fish for three centavos; and the wood-cutter was obliged to give all

his money for it, for the fish was so fine and fat that he could not

leave it.

When he went home and opened the fish to clean it, what do you suppose

he found inside? Why, no other thing than the precious ring he had

lost in the lake! He was so rejoiced at getting back his treasure,

that he walked up and down the streets, talking out loud to his ring:--

"Ha, ha, ha, ha!

I have found you now;

You are here, and nowhere else."

When his neighbors who had stolen his bags of money from him heard

these words, they thought that the wood-cutter had found out that they

were the thieves, and was addressing these words to them. They ran up

to him with all the bags of money, and said, "O wood-cutter! pardon

us for our misdoings! Here are all the bags of money that we stole

from you."

With his money and the ring, the wood-cutter soon became the richest

man in his town. He lived happily with his wife the rest of his days,

and left a large heritage to his children.

So Mahirap, with five centavos only, succeeded in making the

wood-cutter rich.

Lucas the Rope-maker.

Narrated by Elisa Cordero, a Tagalog from Pagsanjan, Laguna. Miss

Cordero says that the story is well known and is old.

Luis and Isco were intimate friends. They lived in a country called

Bagdad. Though these two friends had been brought up together in the

same school, their ideas were different. Luis believed that gentleness

and kindness were the second heaven, while Isco's belief was that

wealth was the source of happiness and peace in life.

One day, while they were eating, Isco said, "Don't you believe, my

friend, that a rich man, however cruel he may be, is known everywhere

and has great power over all his people? A poor man may be gentle

and kind, but then he is disdainfully looked upon by his neighbors."

"Oh," answered Luis, "I know it, but to me everybody is the same. I

love them all, and I am not enchanted by anything that glisters."

"My friend," said Isco, "our conversation is becoming serious. Let

us take a walk this afternoon and see how these theories work out in

the lives of men."

That afternoon Luis and Isco went to a town called Cohija. On their

way they saw a rope-maker, Lucas by name, who by his condition showed

his great suffering from poverty. He approached Lucas and gave him a

roll of paper money, saying, "Now, Lucas, take this money and spend

it judiciously."

Lucas was overjoyed: he hardly knew what to do. When he reached home,

he related to his wife Zelima what had happened to him. As has been

said, Lucas was very poor and was a rope-maker. He had six little

children to support; but he had no money with which to feed them, nor

could he get anything from his rope-making. Some days he could not

sell even a yard of rope. When Lucas received the money from Luis,

and had gone home and told his wife, he immediately went out again

to buy food. He had one hundred pesos in paper money. He bought two

pounds of meat, and a roll of cañamo; [54] and as there was some more

money left, he put it in one of the corners of his hat. Unfortunately,

as he was walking home, an eagle was attracted by the smell of the

meat, and began flying about his head. He frightened the bird away;

but it flew so fast that its claws became entangled in his hat,

which was snatched off his head and carried away some distance. When

he searched for the money, it was gone. He could not find it anywhere.

Lucas went home very sad. When his wife learned the cause of his

sorrow, she became very angry. She scolded her husband roundly. As

soon as the family had eaten the meat Lucas bought, they were as poor

as before. They were even pale because of hunger.

One day Luis and Isco decided to visit Lucas and see how he was

getting along. It happened that while they were passing in the same

street as before, they saw Lucas weeping under a mango-tree near his

small house. "What is the matter?" said Luis. "Why are you crying?"

Poor Lucas told them all that had happened to him,--how the money was

lost, and how his wife had scolded him. At first Luis did not believe

the rope-maker's story, and became angry at him. At last, however,

when he perceived that Lucas was telling the truth, he pardoned him

and gave him a thousand pesos.

Lucas returned home with delight, but his wife and children were not in

the house. They were out asking alms from their neighbors. Lucas then

hid the bulk of the money in an empty jar in the corner of the room,

and then went out to buy food for his wife and children. While he was

gone, his wife and children returned. They had not yet eaten anything.

Not long afterward a man came along selling rice. Zelima said to him,

"Sir, can't you give us a little something to appease our hunger? I'll

give you some darak [55] in exchange."

"Oh, yes!" said the man, "I'll give you some rice, but you do not

need to give me anything."

Zelima took the rice gladly; and as she was looking for something

with which to repay the man, she happened to see the empty jar in

which her husband had secretly put his money. She filled the jar with

darak and gave it to the rice-seller.

When Lucas came home, he was very happy. He told his wife about the

money he had hidden. But when he found out that the money was gone,

he was in despair: he did not know what to do. He scolded his wife

for her carelessness. As he could not endure to see the suffering of

his children, he tried to kill himself, but his children prevented

him. At last he concluded to be quiet; for he thought, "If I hurt my

wife, and she becomes sick, I can't stand it. I must take care of her."

Two months passed by, and Luis and Isco again visited their friend

Lucas. While they were walking in the street, Luis found a big piece

of lead. He picked it up and put it in his pocket. When they reached

Lucas's house, they were astonished to see him in a more wretched

condition than before. Luis asked what was the matter. Lucas related

to him all that had occurred; but Luis just said, "Oh, no! you are

fooling us. We will not believe you." Lucas was very sad. He asked

pardon of Luis for his carelessness, and said, "Don't increase the

burden of my suffering by your scolding!"

Now, Luis was by nature gentle and pitiful. He could not endure to

see his friend suffering. So he gave him the lead he had found in

the street, saying, "Now, take care of that! Maybe your wealth will

come from it." Luis accepted the lead unwillingly, for he thought

that Luis was mocking him.

When Lucas went into the house, he threw the lead away in the corner,

and went to sleep. During the night a neighbor knocked at their door,

asking for a piece of lead for her husband. The neighbor said, "My

husband is going fishing early in the morning, and he asked me to buy

him some lead for his line, but I forgot it. I know he will scold me if

I don't have some ready for him." Lucas, who was wakened by the talk,

told his wife to get the lead he had thrown in the corner. When Zelima

found it, she gave it to their neighbor, who went away happy, promising

that she would bring them the first fish her husband should catch.

The next morning Lucas woke very late. The neighbor was already there

with a big fish, and Zelima was happy at having so much to eat. While

she was cleaning the fish, she found a bright stone inside it. As she

did not know of the value of the stone, she gave it to her youngest

son to play with; but when the other children saw it, they quarrelled

with their brother, and tried to take it away from him. Lucas, too,

was ignorant of the fact that the stone was worth anything.

In front of their house lived a rich man named Don Juan. When he

heard the noise of his neighbor's children quarrelling, he sent

his wife to see what was the matter. Don Juan's wife saw the stone,

and wanted to have it very much. She asked Zelima to sell it to her,

but Zelima said that she would wait and ask her husband. The rich

man's wife went home and told her husband about the jewel. He went

to Lucas's house, and offered the rope-maker a thousand pesos for the

stone; but Lucas refused, for now he suspected that it was worth more

than that. At last he sold it for twenty thousand pesos.

Lucas was now a rich man. He bought clothes for his wife and children,

renewed his house, which was falling to pieces, and bought a machine

for making rope. As his business increased, he bought another

machine. But although Lucas was the richest man in town, he was very

kind. His house was open to every comer. He supported crippled persons,

and gave alms to the poor.

When Luis and Isco visited Lucas the last time, they were surprised

and at the same time delighted to see him so rich. Lucas did not know

how to thank them. He gave a banquet in honor of these two men. After

the feast was over, Lucas told his friends every detail of all that

had happened to him, how he had lent the lead, how his wife had found

the stone in the fish, and how a rich man had bought it for twenty

thousand pesos.

Luis was now convinced that Lucas was honest, and had told the truth

on former occasions. Lucas lived in his big house happily and in

peace with his wife and children.

Notes.

These two Tagalog stories are probably derived from the same ultimate

source; the second, "Lucas the Rope-Maker," being very much closer to

the original. That source is the "History of Khevajah Hasan al-Habbal"

in the "Arabian Nights Entertainments" (see Burton's translation,

Supplemental Nights, III : 341-366). There is also a Tagalog literary

version of this story,--"Life of a Rope-maker in the Kingdom of

Bagdad," by Franz Molteni. I have at present no copy of this chap-book;

but the work may safely be dated 1902-05, as those were the years in

which Molteni published. This story follows faithfully the "Arabian

Nights" tale. The two rich friends are Saadi and Saad, and the name

of the rope-maker is Cojia Hasan.

Our second folk-tale (b) seems to stand half way between this literary

version and "The Rich and the Poor,"--not chronologically, to be sure,

but so far as fidelity to the Arabian story is concerned. Although the

events are practically the same in (b) and in Molteni, the proper names

differ throughout. It is possible that (b) derives from an earlier

Tagalog literary version that is no longer extant. (a) is definitely

localized on Laguna de Bay, and the story as a whole seems thoroughly

native. It is likely much older than either of the other two forms.

A Bengal tale somewhat similar to these is to be found in McCulloch's

"Bengali Household Tales," No. III; it is also connected with

the Dr. Knowall cycle (our No. 1). Caballero has a Spanish story

(see Ingram, "Dame Fortune and Don Money"). For a discussion of the

continuously unlucky hero, see Clouston 2, 489-493. In Ralston 1, I95

f., may be found a group of stories dealing with luck. Compare also

Thorpe's "Yule-tide Stories," 460 f., for the North German story of

"The Three Gifts."

For the "ejaculation guess" in No. 13(a), see notes to No. 1 (pp. 7-8).

TALE 14

THE KING AND THE DERVISH.

Narrated by José M. Hilario of Batangas, Batangas, who heard the

story from his father, a Tagalog.

Once there lived a young and brave king with his gentle and loving

wife. Both had enjoyed an easy, comfortable, and, best of all, happy

life. The king ruled his people well. The queen was a good wife as well

as a good sovereign: she always cheered her husband when he was sad.

One day a dervish came to the palace. He told the king that he

possessed magical power, and straightway they became friends. This

dervish had the power to leave his body and enter that of a dead

animal or person. Now, the king was fond of hunting, and once he

took his new friend with him to shoot deer. After a few hours of

hard chasing, they succeeded in killing a buck. To show his power,

the dervish left his body and entered that of the dead deer. Then he

resumed his former shape. The king was very anxious to be able to do

the same thing; whereupon the dervish gave him minute instructions,

and taught him the necessary charms. Then the king left his body,

and took possession of that of the deer. In an instant the dervish

entered the king's body and went home as the monarch. He gave orders

that a deer with certain marks should be hunted out and killed. The

true king was very unhappy, especially when he saw his own men chasing

him to take his life.

In his wanderings through the forest, he saw a dead nightingale. He

left the deer's body and entered the bird's. Now he was safe, so

he flew to his palace. He sang so sweetly, that the queen ordered

her attendants to catch him. He gladly allowed himself to be caught,

and to be cared for by the queen. Whenever the dervish took the bird

in his hands, the bird pecked him; but the beautiful singer always

showed signs of satisfaction when the queen smoothed his plumage.

Not long after the bird's capture, a dog died in the palace. The

king underwent another change: he left the bird's body and entered

that of the dog. On waking up in the morning, the queen found that

her pet was dead. She began to weep. Unable to see her so sad, the

dervish comforted her, and told her that he would give the bird

life again. Consequently he left the king's body and entered the

bird's. Seeing his chance, the real king left the dog's body and

resumed his original form. He then went at once to the cage and killed

the ungrateful bird, the dervish.

The tender queen protested against the king's act of cruelty; but when

she heard that she had been deceived by the dervish, she died of grief.

The Mysterious Book.

Narrated by Leopoldo Uichanco, a Tagalog from Calamba, La Laguna.

Once upon a time there lived a poor father and a poor son. The father

was very old, and was named Pedro. The son's name was Juan. Although

they were very poor, Juan was afraid of work.

One day the two did not have a single grain of rice in the house

to eat. Juan now realized that he would have to find some work,

or he and his father would starve. So he went to a neighboring town

to seek a master. He at last found one in the person of Don Luzano,

a fine gentleman of fortune.

Don Luzano treated Juan like a son. As time went on, Don Luzano became

so confident in Juan's honesty, that he began to intrust him with the

most precious valuables in the house. One morning Don Luzano went

out hunting. He left Juan alone in the house, as usual. While Juan

was sweeping and cleaning his master's room, he caught sight of a

highly polished box lying behind the post in the corner. Curious to

find out what was inside, he opened the box. There appeared another

box. He opened this box, and another box still was disclosed. One box

appeared after another until Juan came to the seventh. This last one

contained a small triangular-shaped book bound in gold and decorated

with diamonds and other precious gems. Disregarding the consequences

that might follow, Juan picked up the book and opened it. Lo! at once

Juan was carried by the book up into the air. And when he looked back,

whom did he see? No other than Don Luzano pursuing him, with eyes

full of rage. He had an enormous deadly-looking bolo in his hand.

As Don Luzano was a big man, he could fly faster than little Juan. Soon

the boy was but a few yards in front of his antagonist. It should also

be known that the book had the wonderful power of changing anybody

who had laid his hands on it, or who had learned by heart one of

its chapters, into whatever form that person wished to assume. Juan

soon found this fact out. In an instant Juan had disappeared, and in

his place was a little steed galloping as fast as he could down the

street. Again, there was Don Luzano after him in the form of a big

fast mule, with bubbling and foaming mouth, and eyes flashing with

hate. The mule ran so fast, that every minute seemed to be bringing

Juan nearer his grave.

Seeing his danger, Juan changed himself into a bird,--a pretty little

bird. No sooner had he done so than he saw Don Luzano in the form

of a big hawk about to swoop down on him. Then Juan suddenly leaped

into a well he was flying over, and there became a little fish. Don

Luzano assumed the form of a big fish, and kept up the chase; but the

little fish entered a small crack in the wall of the well, where the

big fish could not pursue him farther. So Don Luzano had to give up

and go home in great disappointment.

The well in which Juan found himself belonged to three beautiful

princesses. One morning, while they were looking into the water, they

saw the little fish with its seven-colored scales, moving gracefully

through the water. The eldest of the maidens lowered her bait, but

the fish would not see it. The second sister tried her skill. The

fish bit the bait; but, just as it was being drawn out of the water,

it suddenly released its hold. Now the youngest sister's turn came. The

fish allowed itself to be caught and held in the tender hands of this

beautiful girl. She placed the little fish in a golden basin of water

and took it to her room, where she cared for it very tenderly.

Several months later the king issued a proclamation throughout his

realm and other neighboring kingdoms, saying that the youngest

princess was sick. "To any one who can cure her," he said, "I

promise to give one-half of my kingdom." The most skilful doctors

had already done the best they could, but all their efforts were in

vain. The princess seemed to grow worse and worse every day. "Ay,

what foolishness!" exclaimed Don Luzano when he heard the news of

the sick princess. "The sickness! Pshaw! That's no sickness, never

in the wide world!"

The following morning there was Don Luzano speaking with the king. "I

promise to cure her," said Don Luzano. "I have already cured many

similar cases."

"And your remedy will do her no harm?" asked the king after some

hesitation.

"No harm, sir, no harm. Rely on my honor."

"Very well. And you shall have half of my kingdom if you are

successful."

"No, I thank you, your Majesty. I, being a faithful subject, need no

payment whatever for any of my poor services. As a token from you,

however, I should like to have the fish that the princess keeps in

her room."

"O my faithful subject!" exclaimed the king in joy. "How good you

are! Will you have nothing except a poor worthless fish?"

"No more" that's enough."

"Well, then," returned the king, "prepare your remedy, and on the

third day we shall apply it to the princess. You can go home now,

and you may be sure that you shall have the fish."

Don Luzano took his leave of the king, and then went home. On the third

day this daring magician came back to the palace to apply his remedy

to the princess. Before he began any part of the treatment, however,

he requested that the fish be given to him. The king consented to

his request: but as he was about to dip his hand into the basin,

the princess boldly stopped him. She pretended to be angry on the

ground that Don Luzano would soil with his hands the golden basin of

the monarch. She told him to hold out his hands, and she would pour

the fish into them. Don Luzano did as he was told: but, before the

fish could reach his hands, the pretty creature jumped out. No fish

now could be seen, but in its stead was a beautiful gold ring adorning

the finger of the princess. Don Luzano tried to snatch the ring, but,

as the princess jerked her hand back, the ring fell to the floor,

and in its place were countless little mungo [56] seeds scattered

about the room. Don Luzano instantly took the form of a greedy crow,

devouring the seeds with extraordinary speed. Juan, who was contained

in one of the seeds that had rolled beneath the feet of the princess,

suddenly became a cat, and, rushing out, attacked the bird. As soon

as you could wink your eyes or snap your fingers, the crow was dead,

miserably torn to pieces. In place of the cat stood Juan in an

embroidered suit, looking like a gay young prince.

"This is my beloved," confessed the princess to her father as she

pointed to Juan. The king forgave his daughter for concealing from

him the real condition of her life, and he gladly welcomed his new

son-in-law. Prince Juan, as we shall now call our friend, was destined

to a life of peace and joy. He was rid of his formidable antagonist;

he had a beautiful princess (who was no longer sick) for a wife; and

he had an excellent chance of inheriting the throne. There is no more.

Notes.

A third form (c) I have only in abstract; it is entitled "The Priest

and his Pupil:"--

A boy learns a number of magic tricks from the priest, his master. He

changes himself into a hog, and is sold to the priest; then he runs

away, transforms himself into a horse, and is again sold to his

master for much money. The horse breaks loose and runs off. The

priest now realizes the truth, and, transforming himself into a

horse, pursues the first horse. When they come to a river, the

first horse becomes a small fish, and the second a large fish, and

the chase continues. Then the two fish become birds wheeling aloft,

the larger chasing the smaller. As he flies over the palace of the

King of Persia, the boy becomes a small cocoanut-ring, and drops

on to the finger of the princess. The defeated priest returns home,

and threatens the King of Persia with war if he will not give up the

ring. When the priest calls at the court, the boy has changed himself

from a ring into a dog. The priest is told that he shall have the

ring provided he becomes a duck. Immediately when he has complied,

the dog seizes him and kills him. The hero later weds the princess.

A fourth form (d) is the Tagalog story "The Battle of the Enchanters,"

printed in JAFL 20 : 309-310.

Both of these variants (c and d) bear a close resemblance to our

second story of "The Mysterious Book," and all three probably go back

to a common source; but that source is not the "Arabian Nights" (as

Gardner hints, JAFL 20 : 309, note), although the second calendar's

tale in that collection represents one form of the "Transformation

Combat" cycle. These three Filipino variants are members of the large

family of Oriental and European folk-tales of which the Norse "Farmer

Weathersky" (Dasent, No. XLI) or the German "The Thief and his Master"

(Grimm, No. 68) may be taken as representatives. The essential elements

of this form of the "Transformation Combat" cycle have been noted by

Bolte-Polívka (2 : 61) as follows:--

A A father gives his son up to a magician to be taught, the condition

being that the father at the end of a year must be able to recognize

his son in animal form.

B The son secretly learns magic and thieving.

C In the form of a dog, ox, horse, he allows his father to sell him,

finally to the magician himself, to whom the father, contrary to

directions, also hands over the bridle.

D1 The son, however, succeeds in slipping off the bridle, and (D2)

overcomes the magician in a transformation combat (hare, fish, bird,

etc.). D3 Usually, after the hero has flown in the guise of a bird

to a princess and is concealed by her in the form of a ring, the

magician appears to the king her father, who has become sick, and

demands the ring as payment for a cure. The princess drops the ring,

and there lies in its place a pile of millet-seed, which the magician

as a hen starts to pick up; but the hero quickly turns himself into

a fox, and bites off the hen's head.

With slight variations from the formula as given above, these elements

are distributed thus in our stories:--

(b) BD2D3

(c) BCD2D3

(d) BCD1D3

Bolte and Polívka (2 : 66) cite a number of Oriental versions of

the story (Hindoo and Arabian) which in their main outlines are

practically identical with our variants. In the absence of the story

in any Spanish version, it seems most reasonable to look to India as

the source of our tales; unless, as is possible, they were introduced

into the Islands from Straparola (viii, 5), whose collection of stories

might have found their way there through the Spaniards. For further

discussions of this cycle, see Macculloch, 164-166; Clouston 3, 1 :

413 ff.; Köhler-Bolte, 1 : 138 ff., 556 f.; Benfey, 1 : 410-413.

Our first story, "The King who became a Deer, a Nightingale,

and a Dog," while containing the "transformation combat" between

magician and pupil, differs from the other members of this group in

one important respect: the transformation cannot take place unless

there is a dead body for the transformer's spirit to enter. It is

also to be noted that, as soon as a spirit leaves a body, that body

becomes dead. There can be no doubt that this story of ours is derived

from the 57th to the 60th "Days" in the "1001 Days" (Persian Tales,

1 : 212 ff.; Cabinet des Fées, XlV, p. 326 f.), the story of Prince

Fadlallah. For other variants of this cycle, see Benfey, 1 : 122 f.,

especially 126. The Persian story might have reached the Philippines

through the medium of the French translation, of which our tale

appears to be little more than the baldest abstract.

Benfey explains the "transformation combat" as originating in the

disputes between Buddhists and Brahmans. Doubtless the story first

grew up in India. A very ancient Oriental analogue, which has not

hitherto been pointed out, I believe, is the Hebrew account of

Aaron's magical contest with the Egyptian sorcerers (see Exodus,

vii, 9-12). Compare also the betting-contest between the two kings

in No. 1 of this collection, and see the notes.

TALE 15

THE MIRACULOUS COW.

Narrated by Adela Hidalgo, a Tagalog from Manila, who heard the story

from another Tagalog student.

There was once a farmer driving home from his farm in his

carreton. [57] He had tied his cow to the back of his cart, as he was

accustomed to do every evening on his way home. While he was going

along the road, two boys saw him. They were Felipe and Ambrosio. Felipe

whispered to Ambrosio, "Do you see the cow tied to the back of that

carreton? Well, if you will untie it, I will take it to our house."

Ambrosio approached the carreton slowly, and untied the cow. He handed

the rope to Felipe, and then tied himself in the place of the animal.

"Come on, Ambrosio! Don't be foolish! Come on with me!" whispered

Felipe impatiently.

"No, leave me alone! Go home, and I will soon be there!" answered

the cunning Ambrosio.

After a while the farmer happened to look back. What a surprise

for him! He was frightened to find a boy instead of his cow tied

to the carreton. "Why are you there? Where is my cow?" he shouted

furiously. "Rascal, give me my cow!"

"Oh, don't be angry with me!" said Ambrosio. "Wait a minute, and I

will tell you my story. Once, when I was a small boy, my mother became

very angry with me. She cursed me, and suddenly I was transformed

into a cow; and now I am changed back into my own shape. It is not

my fault that you bought me: I could not tell you not to do so, for

I could not speak at the time. Now, generous farmer, please give me

my freedom! for I am very anxious to see my old home again."

The farmer did not know what to do, for he was very sorry to lose his

cow. When he reached home, he told his wife the story. Now, his wife

was a kind-hearted woman; so, after thinking a few minutes, she said,

"Husband, what can we do? We ought to set him free. It is by the

great mercy of God that he has been restored to his former self."

So the wily boy got off. He rejoined his friend, and they had a good

laugh over the two simple folks.

Notes.

Like the preceding, this story is of Oriental origin. It must

have grown up among a people to whom the idea of metempsychosis

was well known, but who at the same time held a skeptical view of

that doctrine. Whether or not this droll reached the Philippines by

way of the Iberian Peninsula, is hard to say definitely. A Spanish

folk-tale narrating practically the same incident is to be found

in C. Sellers, pp. 1 ff.: "The Ingenious Student." There the shrewd

but poverty-stricken Juan Rivas steals a mule from the pack-train of

a simple-minded muleteer; and while the companions escape with the

animal and sell it, Juan puts on the saddle and bridle, and takes the

place of the stolen beast. His explanation that he has just fulfilled

a long period of punishment imposed on him by Mother Church satisfies

the astonished mule-owner, and Juan escapes with only the admonition

never again to incur the wrath of his spiritual Mother.

The oldest version with which I am familiar is the "Arabian Nights"

anecdote of "The Simpleton and the Sharper" (Burton's translation,

v : 83). This story is practically identical with ours, except that

the Filipino version lacks the additional final comical touch of the

Arabian. The owner of the ass, after the adventure with the sharper,

went to the market to buy another beast, "and, lo! he beheld his

own ass for sale. And when he recognized it, he advanced to it, and,

putting his mouth to its ear, said, 'Wo to thee, O unlucky! Doubtless

thou hast returned to intoxication and beaten thy mother again. By

Allah, I will never again buy thee!'" The sharper had previously

given as the reason of his transformation the fact that his mother had

cursed him when he, in a fit of drunkenness, had beaten her. Clouston

tells this story in his "Book of Noodles" (81-83).

Stories of the transformation of a child into an animal because

of a parent's curse are found all over Europe. This motif is also

widespread in the Philippines among both the Christian and the Pagan

tribes. It is usually incorporated in an origin story, such as "The

Origin of Monkeys." For this belief among a non-Christian people in

northern Luzon, see Cole, Nos. 65-67. None of these tales, however,

assume the droll form: they are told as serious etiological myths.

TALE 16

THE CLEVER HUSBAND AND WIFE.

Narrated by Elisa Cordero, a Tagalog from Pagsanjan, La Laguna. She

heard the story from her servant.

Pedro had been living as a servant in a doctor's house for more than

nine years. He wanted very much to have a wife, but he had no business

of any kind on which to support one.

One day he felt very sad. His look of dejection did not escape the

notice of his master, who said, "What is the matter, my boy? Why do

you look so sad? Is there anything I can do to comfort you?"

"Oh, yes!" said Pedro.

"What do you want me to do?" asked the doctor.

"Master," the man replied, "I want a wife, but I have no money to

support one."

"Oh, don't worry about money!" replied his master. "Be ready to-morrow,

and I will let you marry the woman you love."

The next day the wedding was held. The doctor let the couple live in a

cottage not far from his hacienda, [58] and he gave them two hundred

pieces of gold. When they received the money, they hardly knew what

to do with it, as Pedro had never had any business of any sort. "What

shall we do after we have spent all our money?" asked the wife. "Oh,

we can ask the doctor for more," answered Pedro.

Years passed by, and one day the couple had not even a cent with

which to buy food. So Pedro went to the doctor and asked him for some

money. The doctor, who had always been kind to them, gave him twenty

pieces of gold; but these did not last very long, and it was not many

days before the money was all spent. The husband and wife now thought

of another way by which they could get money from the doctor.

Early one day Pedro went to the doctor's house weeping. He said that

his wife had died, and that he had nothing with which to pay for her

burial. (He had rubbed onion-juice on his eyes, so that he looked

as if he were really crying.) When the doctor heard Pedro's story,

he pitied the man, and said to him, "What was the matter with your

wife? How long was she sick?" "For two days," answered Pedro.

"Two days!" exclaimed the doctor, "why did you not call me, then? We

should have been able to save her. Well, take this money and see that

she gets a decent burial."

Pedro returned home in good spirits. He found his wife Marta waiting

for him at the door, and they were happy once more; but in a month the

money was all used up, and they were on the point of starving again.

Now, the doctor had a married sister whom Pedro and his wife had

worked for off and on after their marriage. Pedro told his wife to go

to the doctor's sister, and tell her that he was dead and that she

had no money to pay for the burial. Marta set out, as she was told;

and when she arrived at the sister's house, the woman said to her,

"Marta, why are you crying?"

"My husband is dead, and I have no money to pay for his burial,"

said Marta, weeping.

"You have served us well, so take this money and see that masses are

said for your husband's soul," said the kind-hearted mistress.

That evening the doctor visited his sister to see her son who was

sick. The sister told him that Marta's husband had died. "No," answered

the doctor, "it was Marta who died." They argued and argued, but

could not agree; so they finally decided to send one of the doctor's

servants to see which one was dead. When Pedro saw the servant coming,

he told his wife to lie flat and stiff in the bed as if she were dead;

and when the servant entered, Pedro showed him his dead wife.

The servant returned, and told the doctor and his sister that it was

Marta who was dead; but the sister would not believe him, for she

said that perhaps he was joking. So they sent another servant. This

time Marta made Pedro lie down stiff and flat in the bed; and when

the servant entered the house, he saw the man lying as if dead. So he

hurried back and told the doctor and his sister what he had seen. Now

neither knew what to believe. The next morning, therefore, the doctor

and his sister together visited the cottage of Pedro. They found

the couple both lying as if dead. After examining them, however,

the doctor realized that they were merely feigning death. He was

so pleased by the joke, and so glad to find his old servants alive,

that he took them home with him and made them stay at his house.

Notes.

This droll seems to be derived from the "1001 Nights" (271st to 290th

nights of the Breslau edition, "The Story of Abu-l-hasan the Wag, or

the Sleeper Awakened"). The Arabian story is not only more detailed,

but contains much preliminary matter that is altogether lacking in

our story. In fact, the two are so dissimilar, except for the trick

the husband and wife play on their benefactor to get more money,

that it is hard to demonstrate a historical connection between the two.

I have in text and translation (the latter unpublished) a Tagalog

metrical version of the Arabian story. This metrical version, which

is told in 1240 lines, is entitled (in translation) "The Story of

Abu-Hasan, Who dreamed when he was Awake. Poem by Franz Molteni. First

edition, Manila." Although this work is not dated, it probably appeared

after 1900. In general, the Tagalog poem agrees with the "1001 Nights"

story, though it differs in details. An analysis of the differences

in the first part of the narratives need not concern us here, as our

folk-tale is connected with only the last third of the romance.

In the metrical version, after Abu, through the favor of the sultan,

has been married to Nuzhat, one of the ladies-in-waiting, the new

couple begin to live extravagantly, and soon exhaust the dowry and

wedding gifts. Then after much deliberation Abu decides to go to

the sultan, tell him that Nuzhat his wife is dead, and ask for

money for her burial. The ruse succeeds; Abu returns home with

a thousand ounces of gold. He at once counsels his wife to go to

the sultana with a similar story that he is dead and that money is

needed for his funeral. Nuzhat, too, receives a thousand ounces from

the sultana. The sultan now visits his wife, and tells her of the

death of Nuzhat. She insists that it is Abu who is dead, and they

argue violently about the matter. Finally the sultan decides to send

one of his servants to report the truth. When Abu sees the servant

coming, he bids his wife lie on the bier, and the servant is shown

her corpse. He reports that it is Nuzhat who is dead. The sultana

is enraged at the servant's statement, and sends her nurse for the

truth. This time Abu lies on the bier, and Nuzhat shows his body to

the nurse. When the old woman returns with her contradictory story,

the sultan's servant calls her a black falsifying witch. At last the

sultan and sultana themselves go to see. Both Abu and Nuzhat are found

lying as if dead. The sultan and his wife now argue so violently as

to which of their favorites died first, that the deceitful couple,

fearful of the outcome, kneel before their rulers, confess the trick,

and beg forgiveness. The royal pair laugh at the joke, and give Abu

and his wife enough to support them the rest of their days.

The last part of the Arabian story is substantially as given above,

only Nuzhat goes first to the sultana with the account of Abu's

death, after which Abu visits the sultan and tells him of Nuzhat's

death. Then follows the quarrel between the sultan and his wife over

the contradictory reports brought back by the two messengers. All

four go in person to discover the truth. Both Nuzhat and Abu are

found dead. Sultan: "I would give a thousand pieces of gold to know

which died first." Abu jumps up, says that he died first, and claims

the reward. Ending as above.

This story of Abu is also told as a folk-tale in Simla, northern India

(Dracott, 166-173), where it retains the Arabic title, "Abul Hussain,"

and is almost identical with the "1001 Nights" version. In the Simla

tale, however, the despatching of servants to learn which one is really

dead is lacking. The sultan and his wife together go to Abul's house,

and find both dead. "If we could only find out which died first!" etc.

Our story, the Tagalog folk-tale, is told almost as an anecdote. The

sultan has been transformed into a doctor; the sultana, into the

doctor's sister; Abu, into a poor servant, Pedro; and Nuzhat, into

Marta. The glitter of the Oriental harem has vanished, as indeed has

also the first two-thirds of the story. The descent in setting and

language has been so great, that I am inclined to suspect that this

droll has existed--at least, in one family--for a long time. It could

hardly have been derived from Molteni's poetic version. For the same

sort of relationship between another folk-tale and an "Arabian Nights"

story, see No. 13 and the notes.

TALE 17

THE THREE BROTHERS.

Narrated by Gregorio Frondoso, a Bicol from Tigaon, Camarines. The

narrator says, "This story was told to me by an old man who happened

to stay at our house one night. He was a traveller. I was then a

little boy."

Once upon a time, when wishing was having, there dwelt in the joyous

village of Delight a poor farmer, Tetong, with his loving wife

Maria. His earning for a day's toil was just enough to sustain them;

yet they were peaceful and happy. Nevertheless they thought that their

happiness could not be complete unless they had at least one child. So

morning and night they would kneel before their rustic altar and pray

God to grant them their desire. As they were faithful in their purpose,

their wish was fulfilled. A son was born to them, and joy filled

their hearts. The couple's love for their child grew so intense,

that they craved for another, and then for still another. The Lord

was mindful of their prayers; and so, as time went on, two more sons

were born to them. The second son they named Felipe; and the youngest,

Juan. The name of the oldest was Pedro. All three boys were lovely

and handsome, and they greatly delighted their parents.

In the course of time, however, when they were about eight, seven,

and six years old, Pedro, Felipe, and Juan became monstrously great

eaters. Each would eat at a single meal six or seven chupas [59]

of rice: consequently their father was obliged to work very hard,

for he had five mouths to feed. In this state of affairs, Tetong

felt that, although these children had been born to him and his wife

as an increase of their happiness, they would finally exhaust what

little he had. Nor was Maria any the less aware of the gluttony of

her sons. By degrees their love for their sons ripened into hatred,

and at last Tetong resolved to do away with his children.

One night, while he and his wife were sitting before their dim light

and their three sons were asleep, Tetong said to his wife, "Do you

not think it would be better to get rid of our sons? As you see, we

are daily becoming poorer and poorer because of them. I have decided

to cast them away into some distant wild forest, where they may feed

themselves on fruits or roots."

On hearing these words of her husband, Maria turned pale: her blood ran

cold in her veins. But what could she do? She felt the same distress

as her husband. After a few moments of silence, she replied in a

faltering voice, "My husband, you may do as you wish." Accordingly

Tetong made ready the necessary provisions for the journey, which

consisted of a sack of rice and some preserved fish.

The next morning, on the pretext of planting camotes [60] and corn

on the hill some thirty miles away from the village, he ordered his

sons to accompany him. When they came to a forest, their father led

them through a circuitous path, and at last took them to the hill. As

soon as they arrived there, each set to work: one cut down trees,

another built a shed, and the others cleared a piece of land in which

to plant the camotes and corn.

After two weeks their provisions were almost used up. Tetong then

called his sons together, and said to them, "My sons, we have very

little to eat now. I am going to leave you for some days: I am going

back to our village to get rice and fish. Be very good to one another,

and continue working, for our camotes will soon have roots, and our

corn ears." Having said these words, he blessed them and left.

Days, weeks, and months elapsed, but Tetong did not reappear. The corn

bore ears, and the camotes produced big sound roots; but these were not

sufficient to support the three brothers. Nor did they know the way

back to their home. At last, realizing that their father and mother

did not care for them any more, they agreed to wander about and look

for food. They roved through woods, thickets, and jungles. At last,

fatigued and with bodies tired and bruised, they came to a wide river,

on the bank of which they stopped to rest. While they were bewailing

their unhappy lot, they caught sight, on the other side of the river,

of banana-trees with bunches of ripe fruit. They determined to get

those fruits; but, as they knew nothing about swimming, they had to cut

down bamboos and join them together to bridge the stream. So great was

their hunger, that each ate three bunches of the ripe bananas. After

they had satisfied their hunger, they continued on their way refreshed.

Soon they came upon a dark abyss. Curious to know what it might

contain, the three brothers looked down into it, but they could not

see the bottom. Not contented, however, with only seeing into the

well, they decided to go to the very bottom: so they gathered vines

and connected them into a rope.

Pedro was the first to make the attempt, but he could not stand the

darkness. Then Felipe tried; but he too became frightened, and could

not stay long in the dark. At last Juan's turn came. He went down to

the very bottom of the abyss, where he found a vast plain covered with

trees and bushes and shrubs. On one side he saw at a short distance a

green house. He approached the house, and saw a most beautiful lady

sitting at the door. When she saw him, she said to him in friendly

tones, "Hail, Juan! I wonder at your coming, for no earthly creature

has ever before been here. However, you are welcome to my house." With

words of compliment Juan accepted her invitation, and entered the

house. He was kindly received by that lady, Maria. They fell in love

with each other, and she agreed to go with Juan to his home.

They had talked together but a short while, when Maria suddenly told

Juan to hide, for her guardian, the giant, was coming. Soon the monster

appeared, and said to Maria in a terrible voice, "You are concealing

some one. I smell human flesh." She denied that she was, but the

giant searched all corners of the house. At last Juan was found,

and he boldly fought with the monster. He received many wounds, but

they were easily healed by Maria's magic medicine. After a terrific

struggle, the giant was killed. Maria applauded Juan's valor. She

gave him food, and related stories to him while he was eating. She

also told him of her neighbor Isabella, none the less beautiful than

she. Juan, in turn, told her of many things in his own home that were

not found in that subterranean plain.

When he had finished eating and had recovered his strength, Juan said

that they had better take Isabella along with them too. Maria agreed

to this. Accordingly Juan set out to get Isabella. When he came to

her house, she was looking out the window. As soon as she saw him,

she exclaimed in a friendly manner, "O Juan! what have you come here

for? Since my birth I have never seen an earthly creature like you!"

"Madam," returned Juan in a low voice, "my appearance before you is

due to some Invisible Being I cannot describe to you." The moment

Isabella heard these words, she blushed. "Juan," she said, "come up!"

Juan entered, and related to her his unfortunate lot, and how he had

found the abyss. Finally, struck with Isabella's fascinating beauty,

Juan expressed his love for her. They had not been talking long

together, when footsteps were heard approaching nearer and nearer. It

was her guardian, the seven-headed monster. "Isabella," it growled,

with an angry look about, "some human creature must be somewhere in

the house."

"There is nobody in the house but me," she exclaimed. The monster,

however, insisted. Seeking all about the house, it at last discovered

Juan, who at once attacked with his sword. In this encounter he was

also successful, cutting off all the seven heads of the monster.

With great joy Juan and Isabella returned to Maria's house. Then the

three went to the foot of the well. There Juan found the vine still

suspended. He tied one end of it around Isabella's waist, and then she

was pulled up by the two brothers waiting above. When they saw her,

Pedro and Felipe each claimed her, saying almost at the same time,

"What a beauty! She is mine." Isabella assured them that there were

other ladies below prettier than she. When he heard these words,

Felipe dropped one end of the vine again. When Maria reached the top

of the well, Felipe felt glad, and claimed her for himself. As the two

brothers each had a maiden now, they would not drop the vine a third

time; but finally Maria persuaded them to do so. On seeing only their

brother's figure, however, the two unfeeling brothers let go of the

vine, and Juan plunged back into the darkness. "O my friends!" said

Maria, weeping, "this is not the way to treat a brother. Had it not

been for him, we should not be here now." Then she took her magic comb,

saying to it, "Comb, if you find Juan dead, revive him; if his legs

and arms are broken, restore them." Then she dropped it down the well.

By means of this magic comb, Juan was brought back to life. The

moment he was able to move his limbs, he groped his way in the dark,

and finally he found himself in the same subterranean plain again. As

he knew of no way to get back to earth, he made up his mind to accept

his fate.

As he was lazily strolling about, he came to a leafy tree with

spreading branches. He climbed up to take a siesta among its fresh

branches. Just as he closed his eyes, he heard a voice calling,

"Juan, Juan! Wake up! Go to the Land of the Pilgrims, for there

your lot awaits you." He opened his eyes and looked about him, but

he saw nothing. "It is only a bird," he said, "that is disturbing

my sleep." So he shut his eyes again. After some moments the same

voice was heard again from the top of the tree. He looked up, but he

could not see any one. However, the voice continued calling to him

so loudly, that he could not sleep. So he descended from the tree to

find that land.

In his wanderings he met an old man wearing very ragged, worn-out

clothes. Juan asked him about the Land of the Pilgrims. The old man

said to him, "Here, take this piece of cloth, which, as you see, I have

torn off my garment, and show it to a hermit you will find living at

a little distance from here. Then tell him your wish." Juan took the

cloth and went to the hermit. When the hermit saw Juan entering his

courtyard without permission, he was very angry. "Hermit," said Juan,

"I have come here on a very important mission. While I was sleeping

among the branches of a tree, a bird sang to me repeatedly that I must

go to the Land of the Pilgrims, where my lot awaits me. I resolved

to look for this land. On my way I met an old man, who gave me this

piece of cloth and told me to show it to you and ask you about this

place I have mentioned." When the hermit saw the cloth, his anger

was turned into sorrow and kindness. "Juan," he said, "I have been

here a long time, but I have never seen that old man."

Now, this hermit had in his care all species of animals. He summoned

them all into his courtyard, and asked each about the Land of the

Pilgrims; but none could give any information. When he had asked them

all in vain, the hermit told Juan to go to another hermit living some

distance away.

Accordingly Juan left to find this hermit. At first, like the other,

this hermit was angry on seeing Juan; but when he saw the piece of

cloth, his anger was turned into pity and sorrow. Juan told him what

he was looking for, and the hermit sounded a loud trumpet. In a moment

there was an instantaneous rushing of birds of every description. He

asked every one about the Land of the Pilgrims, but not one knew of

the place. But just as Juan was about to leave, suddenly there came an

eagle swooping down into the courtyard. When asked if it knew of the

Land of the Pilgrims, it nodded its head. The hermit then ordered it to

bear Juan to the Land of the Pilgrims. It willingly obeyed, and flew

across seas and over mountains with Juan on its back. After Juan had

been carried to the wished-for land, the eagle returned to its master.

Here Juan lived with a poor couple, who cared for him as if he were

their own child, and he served them in turn. He asked them about

the land they were living in. They told him that it was governed by

a tyrannical king who had a beautiful daughter. They said that many

princes who courted her had been put to death because they had failed

to fulfil the tasks required of them. When Juan heard of this beautiful

princess, he said to himself, "This is the lot that awaits me. She

is to be my wife." So, in spite of the dangers he ran the risk of,

he resolved to woo her.

One day, when her tutors were away, he made a kite, to which he

fastened a letter addressed to the princess, and flew it. While she was

strolling about in her garden, the kite suddenly swooped down before

her. She was surprised, and wondered. "What impudent knave," she said,

"ventures to let fall his kite in my garden?" She stepped towards the

kite, looked at it, and saw the letter written in bold hand. She read

it. After a few moments' hesitation, she replaced it with a letter

of her own in which she told him to come under the window of her tower.

When he came there, the princess spoke to him in this manner: "Juan,

if you really love me, you must undergo hardships. Show yourself

to my father to-morrow, and agree to do all that he commands you to

do. Then come back to me." Juan willingly promised to undertake any

difficulties for her sake.

The next morning Juan waited at the stairway of the king's palace. The

king said to him, "Who are you, and what do you come here for?"

"O king! I am Juan, and I have come here to marry your daughter."

"Very well, Juan, you can have your wish if you perform the task I

set you. Take these grains of wheat and plant them in that hill,

and to-morrow morning bring me, out of these same grains, newly

baked bread for my breakfast. Then you shall be married immediately

to my daughter. But if you fail to accomplish this task, you shall

be beheaded."

Juan bowed his head low, and left. Sorrowful he appeared before

the princess.

"What's the matter, Juan?" she said.

"O my dear princess! your father has imposed on me a task impossible

to perform. He gave me these grains of wheat to be planted in that

hill, and to-morrow he expects a newly baked loaf of bread from them."

"Don't worry, Juan. Go home now, and to-morrow show yourself to my

father. The bread will be ready when he awakes."

The next morning Juan repaired to the palace, and was glad to find the

bread already on the table. When the king woke up, he was astonished

to see that Juan had performed the task.

"Now, Juan," said the king, "one more task for you. Under my window

I have two big jars,--one full of mongo, [61] the other of very fine

sand. I will mix them, and you have to assort them so that each kind

is in its proper jar again." Juan promised to fulfil this task. He

passed by the window of the princess, and told her what the king had

said. "Go home and come back here to-morrow," she said to him. "The

king will find the mongo and sand in their proper jars."

The next morning Juan went back to the palace. The king, just arisen

from bed, looked out of the window, and was astounded to see the mongo

and sand perfectly assorted. "Well, Juan," said the king, "you have

successfully performed the tasks I required of you. But I have one

thing more to ask of you. Yesterday afternoon, while my wife and I

were walking along the seashore, my gold ring fell into the water. I

want you to find it, and bring it to me to-morrow morning."

"Your desire shall be fulfilled, O king!" replied Juan.

He told the princess of the king's wish. "Come here tomorrow just

before dawn," she said, "and bring a big basin and a bolo. We will

go together to find the ring."

Just before dawn the next day he went to her tower, where she was

waiting for him in the disguise of a village maid. They went to the

seashore where the ring was supposed to have been lost. There the

princess Maria--that was her name--said to him, "Now take your basin

and bolo and cut me to pieces. Pour out the chopped mass into the

water in which my father's ring was dropped, but take care not to

let a single piece of the flesh fall to the ground!"

On hearing these words, Juan stood dumfounded, and began to weep. Then

in an imploring tone he said, "O my beloved! I would rather have you

chop my body than chop yours."

"If you love me," she said, "do as I tell you."

Then Juan reluctantly seized the bolo, and with closed eyes cut her

body to pieces and poured the mass into the water where the ring was

supposed to be. In five minutes there rose from the water the princess

with the ring on her finger. But Juan fell asleep; and before he awoke,

the ring fell into the water again.

"Oh, how little you love me!" she exclaimed. "The ring fell because

you did not catch it quickly from my finger. Cut up my body as before,

and pour the mass of flesh into the water again." Accordingly Juan

cut her to pieces a second time, and again poured the mass into the

water. Then in a short time Maria rose from the water with the ring

on her finger; but Juan fell asleep again, and again the ring fell

back into the water.

Now Maria was angry: so she cut a gash on his finger, and told him

to cut her body to pieces and pour the mass out as before. At last

the ring was found again. This time Juan was awake, and he quickly

caught the ring as she rose from the water.

That morning Juan went before the king and presented the ring to

him. When the monarch saw it, he was greatly astonished, and said to

himself, "How does he accomplish all the tasks I have given him? Surely

he must be a man of supernatural powers." Raising his head, he said

to Juan, "Juan, you are indeed the man who deserves the hand of my

daughter; but I want you to do me one more service. This will be the

last. Fetch me my horse, for I want to go out hunting to-day." Now,

this horse could run just as fast as the wind. It was a very wild

horse, too, and no one could catch it except the king himself and

the princess.

Juan promised, however, and repaired to Maria's tower. When she

learned her father's wish, she went with Juan and helped him catch

the horse. After they had caught it, she caught hers too. Then they

returned to the palace. Juan and Maria now agreed to run away. So

after Juan had tied the king's horse near the stairway, they mounted

Maria's horse and rode off rapidly.

When the king could not find his daughter, he got on his horse

and started in pursuit of Juan and Maria, who were now some miles

ahead. But the king's horse ran so fast, that in a few minutes he had

almost overtaken the fugitives. Maria, seeing her father behind them,

dropped her comb, and in the wink of an eye a thick grove of bamboos

blocked the king's way. By his order, a road was made through the

bamboo in a very short time. Then he continued his chase; but just

as he was about to overtake them a second time, Maria flung down

her ring, and there rose up seven high hills behind them. The king

was thus delayed again; but his horse shot over these hills as fast

as the wind, so that in a few minutes he was once more in sight of

the fugitives. This time Maria turned around and spat. Immediately

a wide sea appeared behind them. The king gave up his pursuit, and

only uttered these words: "O ungrateful daughter!" Then he turned

back to his palace.

The young lovers continued their journey until they came to a small

village. Here they decided to be married, so they at once went to

the village priest. He married them that very day. Juan and Maria

now determined to live in that place the rest of their lives, so they

bought a house and a piece of land. As time went by, Juan thought of

his parents.

One day he asked permission from his wife to visit his father and

mother. "You may go," she said; "but remember not to let a single drop

of your father's or mother's tears fall on your cheeks, for you will

forget me if you do." Promising to remember her words, Juan set out.

When his parents saw him, they were so glad that they embraced him and

almost bathed him with tears of joy. Juan forgot Maria. It happened

that on the day Juan reached home, Felipe, his brother, was married

to Maria, the subterranean lady, and a feast was being held in the

family circle. The moment Maria recognized Juan, whom she loved

most, she annulled her marriage with Felipe, and wanted to marry

Juan. Accordingly the village was called to settle the question,

and Maria and Juan were married that same day. The merrymaking and

dancing continued.

In the mean time there came, to the surprise of every one, a beautiful

princess riding in a golden carriage drawn by fine horses. She was

invited to the dance. While the people were enjoying themselves

dancing and singing, they were suddenly drawn together around this

princess to see what she was doing. She was sitting in the middle

of the hall. Before her she had a dog chained. Then she began to ask

the dog these questions:--

"Did you not serve a certain king for his daughter?"

"No!" answered the dog.

"Did he not give you grains of wheat to be planted in a hill, and

the morning following you were to give him newly baked bread made

from the wheat?"

"No!"

"Did he not mix together two jars of mongo and sand, then order

you to assort them so that the mongo was in one jar and the sand in

the other?"

"No!"

"Do you not remember when you and a princess went together to the

seashore to find the ring of her father, and when you cut her body

to pieces and poured the chopped mass into the water?"

When Juan, who was watching, heard this last question, he rushed from

the ring of people that surrounded her and knelt before her, saying, "O

my most precious wife! I implore your forgiveness!" Then the new-comer,

who was none other than Maria, Juan's true wife, embraced him, and

their former love was restored. So the feast went on. To the great

joy of Felipe, Maria, the subterranean lady, was given back to him;

and the two couples lived happily the rest of their lives.

Notes.

This story, which is a mixture of well-known motifs and incidents,

really falls into two parts, though an attempt is made at the end to

bind them together. The first part, ending with the treachery of the

brothers after the hero has made his underground journey and rescued

the two beautiful maidens from their giant captors, has resemblances

to parts of the "Bear's Son" cycle. The second half of the story is a

well-developed member of the "Forgotten Betrothed" cycle, preserving,

in fact, all the characteristic incidents, and also prefacing to this

whole section details that form a transition between it and part 1. I

am unable to point out any European parallels to the story as a whole,

but analogues of both parts are very numerous. As the latter half

constitutes the major portion of our story, we shall consider it first.

The fundamental and characteristic incidents of the "Forgotten

Betrothed" cycle (sometimes called the "True Bride" cycle) are as

follows:--

A The performance by the hero of difficult tasks through the help of

the loved one, who is usually the daughter of a magician.

B The magic flight of the couple, either with transformations of

themselves or with the casting behind them of obstacles to retard

the pursuer.

C The forgetting of the bride by the hero because he breaks a taboo

(the cause of the forgetting is usually a parental kiss, which the

hero should have avoided).

D The re-awakened memory of the hero during his marriage ceremony or

wedding feast with a new bride, either through the conversation of

the true bride with an animal or through the true bride's kiss. In

some forms of the story, the hero's memory is restored on the third

of three nights sold to the heroine by the venial second bride. [62]

E The marriage of the hero and heroine.

Andrew Lang (Custom and Myth, 2d ed., 87-102) traces incidents A and

B as far back as the myth of Jason, the earliest literary reference

to which is in the Iliad (vii, 467; XXIII, 747). But this story does

not contain the last three incidents: clearly they have come from

some other source, and have been joined to the first two,--a natural

process in the development of a folk-tale. The episode of the magic

flight is very widely distributed: Lang mentions Zulu, Gaelic, Norse,

Malagasy, Russian, Italian, and Japanese versions. Of the magic flight

combined with the performance of difficult tasks set by the girl's

father, the stories are no less widely scattered: Greece, Madagascar,

Scotland, Russia, Italy, North America (Algonquins), Finland, Samoa

(p. 94). The only reasonable explanation of these resemblances,

according to Lang, is the theory of transmission; and if Mr. Lang,

the champion of the "anthropological theory," must needs explain in

this rather business-like way a comparatively simple tale, what but

the transmission theory can explain far more complicated stories of

five or six distinct incidents in the same sequence?

The "Forgotten Betrothed" cycle was clearly invented but once; when or

where, we shall not attempt to say. But that its excellent combination

of rapid, marvellous, and pathetic situations has made it a tale of

almost universal appeal, is attested to by the scores of variants that

have been collected within the last half-century and more. In his notes

to Campbell's Gaelic story, "The Battle of the Birds," No. 2, Köhler

cites Norwegian, Swedish, Italian, German, and Hungarian versions

(Orient und Occident, 2 : 107). Ralston (pp. 132-133), Cosquin (2 :

No. 32 and notes), Crane (No. XV and notes, pp. 343-344), Bolte (in

his additions to Köhler, 1 : 170-174), and Bolte-Polívka (to Nos. 51,

56, 113) have added very full bibliographies. It is unnecessary here

to list all the variants of this story that have been collected, but

we will examine some of the analogues to our tale from the point of

view of the separate incidents.

After the hero of our present story has been deserted by his

treacherous brothers, and has found himself once more in the

under-world, he is told by a mysterious voice to go to the Land of the

Pilgrims, where he will find his fate. He meets an old man, who directs

him to a hermit. The hermit, in turn, directs the youth to another

hermit, who learns from an eagle where the Land of the Pilgrims is,

and directs the bird to carry the youth thither. While the story does

not state that the Land of the Pilgrims is on the "upper-world," we

must suppose that it is, and that the eagle is the means whereby the

hero escapes from the underground kingdom. In a large number of members

of the "Bear's Son" cycle, to which, as has been said, the first part

of our story belongs, this is the usual means of escape. The incident

is also found in a large number of tales not connected otherwise

with this group (see Cosquin, 2 : 141-144). It is sometimes combined

with the quest for the water of life, with which in turn is connected

the situation of the hero's being referred from one guide to another

(giants, sages, hermits, etc.), as in our story (cf. Grimm, No. 97,

and notes; also Bolte-Polívka to No. 97, especially 2 : 400; Thorpe,

158; Tawney, 1 : 206; Persian Tales, 2 : 171). This whole section

appears to have been introduced as a transition between parts 1 and 2.

The second part of our story opens with the "bride-wager" incident

(see Von Hahn, 1 : 54, "Oenomaosformel"), though I can point to no

parallel of Juan's method of making love to the princess; that is,

by means of a letter conveyed by a kite.

The tasks which the hero is obliged to perform vary greatly in the

different members of the "Forgotten Betrothed" cycle. Juan has to

plant wheat and bake bread from the ripened grain in twenty-four hours,

separate a jar of mongo from a jar of sand, and fetch a ring from the

sea. The first task imposed by the king has analogies in a number of

European tales. In Groome's No. 34 the Devil says to the hero, "Here

is one more task for you: drain the marsh, and plough it, and sow it,

and to-morrow bring me roasted maize" (p. 106). In Groome's No. 7 the

king says to the old man, "See this great forest! Fell it all, and make

it a level field; and plough it for me, and break up all the earth;

and sow it with millet by to-morrow morning. And mark well what I tell

you: you must bring me a cake [made from the ripened millet-seed,

clearly; see p. 23] made with sweet milk." Cosquin (2 : 24) cites a

Catalan and a Basque story in which the hero has not only to fell a

great forest, but to sow grain and harvest it. In kind this is the same

sort of impossible task imposed on Truth in a Visayan story (JAFL 19 :

100-102), where the hero has to beget, and the princess his wife to

bring forth, in one night, three children. Helpful eagles solve this

difficulty for Truth by conveying to him three newly-born babes. The

second task is a well-known one, and is found in many members of the

"Grateful Animals" cycle. Usually it is ants, which the hero has

earlier spared, that perform the service of separating two kinds of

seed, etc. (see Tawney, 1 : 361 and note). The mixture of sand and

mongo, in our story, is not a very happy conception. Originally it must

have been either gravel and mongo, or else mongo and some other kind of

lentil nearly resembling it in size. The third task, with the method of

accomplishing it, is perhaps the most interesting of all. In a Samoan

story of the "Forgotten Betrothed" cycle (Lang, op. cit., p. 98), the

heroine bids the hero cut her body into pieces and cast them into the

sea. There she becomes a fish and recovers the ring. In a Catalan tale

(Rondallayre, 1 : 41) the hero is also required to fetch a ring from

the bottom of the sea. His loved one tells him to cut her to pieces,

taking care not to let any part drop to the ground, and to throw all

into the water. In spite of all his care, he lets fall to earth one

drop of blood. The heroine recovers the ring, but lacks the first

joint of her little finger when she resumes her original shape.

The "magic flight" is discussed by Cosquin (1 : 152-154) and Macculloch

(167 ff.). Two kinds of transformation are to be noted in connection

with this escape: the pursued either transform themselves, and

thus escape detection by the pursuer, or else cast behind them magic

objects, which turn into retarding and finally insurmountable obstacles

in the path of the pursuer. In our story the transformations are of

the second type, as they are in the story of "Pedro and the Witch"

(No. 36). So far as I know, the first type does not occur in Filipino

folk-tales. Both types are found frequently in Occidental Märchen,

but in Oriental stories the second seems to predominate over the first

(see Cosquin's citations of Oriental occurrences of this incident). In

Somadeva (Tawney, 1 : 355 ff.) we have two flights and both types

of escape. As to the details of the flight itself in our story,

we may note that the comb becoming a thicket of thorns has many

analogues. The ring becoming seven mountains suggests with its magic

number an Oriental origin. With spittle turning into a lake or sea,

compare similar transformations of drops of water and a bladder full

of water (Macculloch, 171-172).

The incident of the "forgetting of the betrothed" is usually motivated

with some sort of broken taboo. When the hero desires to visit his

parents, and leaves his sweetheart outside the city, she usually

warns him not to allow himself to be kissed. In a Gaelic Märchen he

is forbidden to speak; sometimes he is warned by his wife not to eat,

etc. (Köhler-Bolte, 172). In our story the taboo is somewhat unusual:

the hero is to allow no tears of joy shed by his parents to fall on

his cheeks. The idea behind this charge, however, is the same as that

behind the forbidden kiss. With the taboo forbidding the partaking

of food, compare the episode of the "Lotus-Eaters" in the Odyssey.

In most of the Märchen of this group the re-awakening of the memory

of the hero is accomplished through the conversation of two birds

(doves or hens) which the forgotten betrothed manages to introduce

into the presence of her lover just before he is married to another

(Köhler-Bolte, 172; Rittershaus, 150). In our story the heroine asks

a dog questions about the tasks she had helped the hero perform. I

can point to no exact parallel of this situation, though it agrees

in general with the methods used in the other members of the group.

For the first part of our story (with the exception of the

introduction), compare Köhler-Bolte, 292-296, 537-543; Gonzenbach,

No. 58 and notes; F. Panzer's "Beowulf," passim. See also the notes

to Nos. 3 and 4 of this collection.

In connection with our story as a whole, I will cite in conclusion two

native metrical romances that preserve many of the incidents we have

been discussing. The first is a Pangasinan romance (of which I have not

the text) entitled "Don Agustin, Don Pedro, and Don Juan." This story

contains the pursuit by the three princes of a snake to cure the sick

king their father (the "quest" motif), the descent into the well by

the youngest brother, his fight with monsters in the underworld and

his rescue of three princesses, the treachery of the older brothers,

the final rescue of the hero by the youngest princess. While this

story lacks the "forgotten-betrothed" motif, it is unquestionably

related with the first part of our folk-tale, [63]

The second romance, which is one of the most popular and widespread

in the Islands, having been printed in at least five of the

dialects,--Tagalog, Pampango, Visayan, Ilocano, and Bicol,--I will

synopsize briefly, because it is either the source of our folk-tale

or has been derived from it. The fact that not all the literary

versions agree entirely, and that the story as a folk-tale seems to

be so universally known, makes it seem more likely that the second

alternative expresses the truth; i.e., that the romance has been

derived from the folk-tale. In the Tagalog version the title runs

thus: "The Story of Three Princes, sons of King Fernando and Queen

Valeriana in the Kingdom of Berbania. The Adarna Bird." The poem is

long, containing 4136 octosyllabic lines. The date of my copy is 1906;

but Retana mentions an edition before 1898 (No. 4169). Briefly the

story runs as follows:--

King Fernando of Berbania has three sons,--Diego, Pedro, and Juan. One

night the king dreams that Juan was killed by robbers. He immediately

becomes sick, and a skilful physician tells him that the magic Adarna

bird is the only thing that can cure his illness. Diego sets out to

find the bird, but is unsuccessful; he is turned to stone. A year later

Pedro sets out--meets the same fate. At last Juan goes, seeing that

his brothers do not return. Because of his charity a leper directs

the youth to a hermit's house. The hermit tells Juan how to avoid

the enchantment, secure the bird, and liberate his brothers. Juan

successful. On the return, however, the envious brothers beat Juan

senseless, and, taking the bird from him, make their way back to their

father's kingdom alone. But the bird becomes very ugly in appearance,

refuses to sing, and the king grows worse. Juan, meantime, is restored

by an angel sent from heaven. He finally reaches home; and the Adarna

bird immediately becomes beautiful again, and sings of the treachery of

Diego and Pedro. The king, recovered, wishes to banish his two older

sons; but Juan pleads for them, and they are restored to favor. The

king now charges his three sons with the safe-keeping of the bird,

threatening with death the one who lets it fly away.

One night, while Juan is on watch, he falls asleep. His envious

brothers open the cage, and the bird escapes. When Juan awakens and

sees the mischief done, he leaves home to look for the Adarna. Next

day the king, missing both Juan and the bird, sends Pedro and Diego in

search of their brother. They find him in the mountains of Armenia. In

their joint search for the bird, the three come to a deep well. Diego

and Pedro try in turn to go down, but fear to make the descent to

the bottom. Juan is then lowered. At the foot of the well he finds

beautiful fields. In his wanderings he comes to a large house where a

princess is looking out of the window. She tells Juan that she is in

the power of a giant; and so, when the monster returns, Juan kills

it. He likewise liberates her sister Leonora, who is in the power

of a seven-headed snake. All three--Juan and the two princesses--are

hoisted to the top of the well; but when Juan starts back for a ring

that Leonora has forgotten, his cruel brothers cut the rope. Leonora

sends her pet wolf to cure Juan, and the two brothers with the two

princesses return to Berbania. Juana is married to Diego; but Leonora

refuses to marry Pedro, asking for a seven-year respite to wait for

Juan's return.

Meantime Juan has been restored. One day the Adarna bird appears,

and sings over his head that there are three beautiful princesses in

the kingdom "de los Cristales." Juan sets out to find that place. He

meets an old man, who gives him a piece of his shirt and tells him to

go to a certain hermit for directions. The hermit receives Juan on

presentation of the token, and summons all the animals to question

them about the kingdom "de los Cristales;" but none of the animals

knows where the kingdom is. This hermit now directs Juan to another

hermitage. There the holy man summons all the birds. One eagle knows

where it is; and after Juan gets on its back, the eagle flies for a

month, and finally reaches the kingdom sought. There, in accordance

with the bird's directions, while the princesses are bathing, Juan

steals the clothes of the youngest, and will not return them until

she promises to marry him. She agrees, and later helps him perform

the difficult tasks set him by her enchanter father (levelling

mountain, planting wheat, newly-baked bread--recovering flask from

sea--removing mountain--recovering ring from sea [same method as in

our folk-tale]--catching king's horse). Then the two escape, pursued

by the magician. Transformation flight (needle, thorns; piece of

soap, mountain; withe [? coje], lake). The baffled magician curses

his daughter, and says that she will be forgotten by Juan. When Juan

reaches home and sees Leonora, he forgets Maria. On his wedding day

with Leonora, an unknown princess comes to attend the festivities. From

a small bottle which she has she produces a small Negress and Negro,

who dance before the young bridal couple. After each dance the Negress

addresses Juan, and recounts to him what Maria has done for him. Then

she beats the Negro, but Juan feels the blows. Finally, since Juan

remains inflexible, Maria threatens to dash to pieces the bottle,

which contains Juan's life. Juan consents to marry her; but Leonora

protests, saying that her wolf saved Juan's life. Archbishop called

to arbitrate the matter, decides in favor of Leonora. When Maria now

floods the country and threatens the whole kingdom with destruction,

King Fernando persuades Leonora to take his oldest son Pedro. Juan

and Maria are married, and return to the kingdom "de los Cristales."

The Visayan version of the "Adarna Bird" is practically identical with

the Tagalog up to the point where Juan rescues the two princesses

from the underworld. When he and they have been drawn to the top of

the well by the two older brothers, Juan tells Pedro and Diego to

return home with the two maidens, but says that he will continue

the search for the magic bird. He later learns that it is in the

possession of Maria, daughter of the King of Salermo. He directs his

steps thither, falls in love with the princess, and, together with

the bird, they return to Berbania. The three brothers are married at

the same time. It will be noticed that here the "forgotten-betrothed"

motif is lacking altogether.

For a Tagalog folk-tale connected with this romance, but changed

so that it is hardly recognizable as a relative, see the story of

"The Adorna (sic) Bird" (JAFL 20 : 107-108).

It is interesting to note that the Tagalog romance is definitely

reminiscent of the "Swan Maidens" cycle in the method Juan uses to

win the affections of Maria, the enchanter's daughter. For parallels

to Juan's trick of stealing Maria's clothes while she and her sisters

are bathing, see Macculloch, 342 f. For a large collection of "Swan

Maiden" stories in abstract, see Hartland, chapters X and XI.

Considering the fact that both parts of our story are practically

world-wide in their distribution, it is almost impossible to say

where and when the two in combination first existed. I am inclined to

think, on the whole, that our Filipino folk-tale is an importation,

and is not native. As to the relationship between the popular and

the literary versions of the story, I believe that in general the

literary has been derived from the popular.

TALE 18

JUAN AND HIS ADVENTURES.

Narrated by José Ma. Katigbak, a Tagalog from Lipa, Batangas. He

heard the story from Angel Reyes, another Batangueño.

Once in a certain village there lived a couple who had three

daughters. This family was very poor at first. Near the foot of a

mountain was growing a tree with large white leaves. [64] Pedro the

father earned their living by selling the leaves of that tree. In

time he got so much money from them that he a ordered a large house

to be built. Then they left their old home, and went to live in

the new house. The father kept on selling the leaves. After a year

he decided to cut down the tree, so that he could sell it all at

once and get much money. So he went to the foot of the mountain one

day, and cut the tree down. As soon as the trunk had crashed to the

ground, a large snake came out from the stump. Now, this snake was

an enchanter, and was the friend of the kings of the lions, eagles,

and fishes, as we shall see.

The snake said to Pedro, "I gave you the leaves of this tree to

sell; and now, after you have gotten much money from it, you cut

it down. There is but one suitable punishment for you: within three

days you must bring all your daughters here and give them to me." The

man was so astonished at first, that he did not know what to do. He

made no reply, and after a few minutes went home. His sadness was so

great that he could not even eat. His wife and daughters, noticing

his depression, asked him what he was thinking about. At first he

did not want to tell them; but they urged and begged so incessantly,

that finally he was forced to do so.

He said to them, "To-day I cut down the tree where I got the leaves

which I sold. A snake came out from the stump, and told me that I

should bring you three girls to him or we should all die."

"Don't worry, father! we will go there with you," said the three

daughters.

The next day they prepared to go to the snake. Their parents wept

very much. Each of the three girls gave her mother a handkerchief as

a remembrance. After they had bidden good-by, they set out on their

journey with their father.

As soon as they reached the foot of the mountain, the three daughters

disappeared at once, and the poor father returned home cheerless. A

year had not passed by before a son was born to the old couple. They

named him Juan. When the boy was about eighteen years old, his mother

showed him the handkerchiefs of his sisters.

"Have I any sister?" said Juan to his mother.

"Yes, you have three; but they were taken away by a snake," she

told him. Juan was so angry, that he asked his parents to give him

permission to go in search of his sisters. At first they hesitated,

but at last they gave him leave. So, taking the three handkerchiefs

with him, Juan set out, and went to the mountain.

After travelling for more than ten days, Juan came across three boys

quarrelling over the possession of a cap, a pair of sandals, and a

key. He went near them, and asked them why they all wanted those three

things. The boys told him that the cap would make the person who wore

it invisible, the sandals would give their owner the power to fly,

and that the key would open any door it touched.

Juan told the three boys that it would be better for them to give

him those articles than to quarrel about them; and the boys agreed,

because they did not want either of the others to have them. So Juan

put the key in his pocket, the cap on his head, and the sandals on

his feet, and flew away. After he had passed over many mountains,

he descended. Near the place where he alighted he saw a cave. He

approached its mouth, and opened the door with his key. Inside he saw

a girl sitting near a window. He went up to her and took off his cap.

"Who are you?" said the girl, startled.

"Aren't you my sister?" said Juan.

"I have no brother," said the lady, but she was surprised to see the

handkerchiefs which Juan showed her. After he had told her his story,

she believed that he was really her brother.

"You had better hide," said the lady, holding Juan's hand, "for my

husband is the king of the lions, and he may kill you if he finds

you here."

Not long afterwards the lion appeared. She met him at the door. "You

must have some visitors here," said the lion, sniffing the air with

wide-open nostrils.

"Yes," answered the lady, "my brother is here, and I hid him, for I

feared that you might kill him."

"No, I will not kill him," said the lion. "Where is he?" Juan came out

and shook hands with the lion. After they had talked for a few hours,

Juan said that he would go to look for his other sisters. The lion

told him that they lived on the next two mountains.

Juan did not have much trouble in finding his other two sisters. Their

husbands were the kings of the fishes and the eagles, and they received

him kindly. Juan's three brothers-in-law loved him very much, and

promised to aid him whenever he needed their help.

Juan now decided to return home and tell his parents where his three

sisters were; but he took another way back. He came to a town where

all the people were dressed in black, and the decorations of the houses

were of the same color. He asked some people what had happened in that

town. They told him that a princess was lost, and that he who could

bring her back to the king should receive her hand in marriage and

also half the property of the king. Juan then went to the king and

promised to restore his daughter to him. The king agreed to reward

him as the townspeople had said, if he should prove successful.

Early the next morning Juan, with his cap, sandals, and key, set

out to look for the princess. After a two-days' journey he came to a

mountain. Here he descended and began to look around. Finally he saw

a huge rock, in which he found a small hole. He put the key in it,

and the rock flew open. With his cap of invisibility on his head,

he entered. There within he saw many ladies, who were confined in

separate rooms. In the very last apartment he found the princess with

a giant beside her. He went near the room of the princess, and opened

the door with his key. The walls of all the rooms were like those of

a prison, and were made of iron bars. Juan approached the princess,

and remained near her until the giant went away.

As soon as the monster was out of sight, Juan took off his cap. The

princess was surprised to see him, but he told her that he had

come to take her away. She was very glad, but said that they had

better wait for the giant to go away before they started. After a

few minutes the giant went out to take a walk. When they saw that

he had passed through the main door, they went out also. Juan put on

his sandals and flew away with the princess. But when they were very

near the king's palace, the princess disappeared: she was taken back

by the giant's powerful magic. Juan was very angry, and he returned

at once to the giant's cave. He succeeded in opening the main door,

but he could not enter. After struggling in vain for about an hour,

he at last determined to go to his brothers-in-law for help.

When he had explained what he wanted, the king of the eagles said to

him, "Juan, the life and power of the giant are in a little box at

the heart of the ocean. No one can get that box except the king of

the fishes, and no one can open it except the king of the lions. The

life of the giant is in a little bird which is inside the box. This

bird flies very swiftly, and I am the only one who can catch it. The

strength of the giant is in a little egg which is in the box with

the bird."

When the king of the eagles had finished his story, Juan went to

the king of the fishes. "Will you fetch me the box which contains

the life and strength of the giant?" said Juan to the king of the

fishes. After asking him many questions, his brother-in-law swam away,

and soon returned with the box. When Juan had received it from him,

he thanked him and went to the king of the lions.

The king of the lions willingly opened the box for him. As soon as

the box was opened, the little bird inside flew swiftly away. Juan

took the egg, however, and went back to the king of the eagles, and

asked him to catch the bird. After the little bird had been caught,

Juan pushed on to the cave of the giant. When he came there, he opened

the door and entered, holding the bird in one hand and the egg in the

other. Enraged at the sight of Juan, the giant rushed at him; and Juan

was so startled, that he crushed the egg and killed the bird. At once

the giant fell on his back, and stretched out his legs to rise no more.

Juan now went through the cave, opening all the prison doors,

and releasing the ladies. He carried the princess with him back to

the palace. As soon as he arrived, a great celebration was held,

and he was married to the princess. After the death of the king,

Juan became ruler. He later visited his parents, and told them of

all his adventures. Then he took them to his own kingdom, where they

lived happily together.

Notes.

A Tagalog variant of this story, entitled "Pedro and the Giants,"

and narrated by José Hilario from Batangas, runs thus in abstract:--

Two orphan sisters living with their brother Pedro are stolen by

two powerful giants. Pedro goes in search of his sisters, and finds

them. Contrary to the expectations of all, the two grim brothers-in-law

welcome Pedro, and offer to serve him. Pedro later wishes to marry a

princess, and the giants demand her of the king her father. He refuses

to give her up, although she falls in love with Pedro. To punish his

daughter, the king exposes her to the hot sun: but one of the giants

shades her with his eagle-like wings. Then the other giant threatens

the king; but the monarch says he is safe, for his life is contained

in two eggs in an iron box guarded by two clashing rocks. With great

personal risk the giant obtains the eggs; and, upon the king's still

refusing to give his daughter to Pedro, the giant dashes the eggs

to the ground, and the king falls dead. Pedro and the princess are

then married.

This analogue of our story is not very close in details, yet there

are enough general resemblances between the two to make it pretty

certain that they are distantly related.

Our story of "Juan and his Adventures" belongs to the "Animal

Brothers-in-Law" cycle, a formula for which Von Hahn (1 : 53)

enumerates the following incidents:--

A Three princes who have been transformed into animals marry the

sisters of the hero.

B The hero visits his three brothers-in-law.

C They help him perform tasks.

D They are disenchanted by him.

As Crane says (p. 60), this formula varies, of course. Sometimes there

are but two sisters (cf. our variant), and the brothers-in-law are

freed from their enchantment in some other way than by the hero. For

a bibliography of this group, see Crane, 342-343, note 23, to No. 13.

Perhaps the best version of this story is that found in Basile, 4 :

3, the argument of which, as given in Burton's translation (2 : 372),

runs thus:--

Ciancola, son of the King of Verde-colle, fareth to seek his three

sisters, married one with a falcon, another with a stag, and the

other with a dolphin; after long journeying he findeth them, and

on his return homewards he cometh upon the daughter of a king,

who is held prisoner by a dragon within a tower, and calling by

signs which had been given him by the falcon, stag, and dolphin,

all three came before him ready to help him, and with their aid he

slayeth the dragon, and setteth free the princess, whom he weddeth,

and together they return to his realm.

This argument does not quite do justice to the similarities between

Basile's story and ours. For instance, in the Italian story, when

the daughters leave, they give their mother three identical rings as

tokens. Then a son is born to the queen. When he is fifteen years old,

he sets out to look for his sisters, taking the rings with him. Nor,

again, does this argument mention the fact that in the end the animal

brothers-in-law are transformed into men,--a feature which is found

in Basile, but not in our story. In the main, however, it will be seen

that the two are very close. In Von Hahn, No. 25, the brothers-in-law

are a lion, a tiger, and an eagle.

The opening of our story, so far as I know, is not found in any of the

other members of this cycle. Usually the sisters are married to the

animals in consequence of a king's decision to give his daughters to

the first three persons who pass by his palace after a certain hour

(Crane, No. XIII); or else the animals present themselves as suitors

after the death of the king, who has charged his sons to see that

their sisters are married (Von Hahn, No. 25; compare the opening

of Wratislaw No. XLI = Wuk, No. 17). In our story, however, Pedro

is deprived of his daughters in consequence of his greed. With this

situation compare the "Maha-vanija-jataka," No. 493, which tells how

some merchants find a magic banyan-tree. From this tree the merchants

receive wonderful gifts; but they are insatiable, and finally plan to

cut it down to see if there is not large treasure at the roots. The

guardian-spirit of the tree, the serpent-king, punishes them. It is not

impossible that some such parable as this lies behind the introduction

to our story. There is abundant testimony from early travellers in

the Islands that the natives in certain sections regarded trees as

sacred, and could not be hired to cut them down for fear of offending

the resident-spirit. The three handkerchiefs which the sisters leave

with their mother as mementos are to be compared with the three rings

in Basile's version. In a Serbian story belonging to this cycle (Wuk,

No. 5), the three sisters are blown away by a strong wind (cf. our

story of "Alberto and the Monsters," No. 39), and fall into the power

of three dragons. When the brother, yet unborn at the time of their

disappearance, reaches his eighteenth year, he sets out to seek his

sisters, taking with him a handkerchief of each.

The obtaining of magic articles by a trick of the hero is found

in many folk-tales. In Grimm, No. 197, which is distantly related

to our story, the hero cheats two giants out of a wishing-cap over

which they are quarrelling. In Grimm, No. 92, where we find the same

situation, the magic articles are three,--a sword which will make heads

fly off, a cloak of invisibility, a pair of transportation-boots

(see Bolte-Polívka, 2 : 320 f., especially 331-335). In Grimm,

No. 193, a flying saddle is similarly obtained. In Crane, No. XXXVI

(p. 136 f.), Lionbruno acquires a pair of transportation-boots,

an inexhaustible purse, and a cloak of invisibility. This incident

is also found in Somadeva (Tawney, 1 : 14), where the articles are

a pair of flying-shoes, a magic staff which writes what is going to

happen, and a vessel which can supply any food the owner asks for. In

another Oriental collection (Sagas from the Far East, pp. 23-24),

the prince and his follower secure a cap of invisibility from a band

of quarrelling boys, and a pair of transportation-boots from some

disputing demons. Compare Tawney's note for other instances. This

incident is also found in an Indian story by Stokes, No. XXII,

"How the Raja's Son won the Princess Labam." In this the hero meets

four fakirs, whose teacher (and master) has died, and has left four

things,--"a bed which carried whosoever sat on it whithersoever he

wished to go; a bag that gave its owner whatever he wanted,--jewels,

food, or clothes; a stone bowl which gave its owner as much water

as he wanted; and a stick that would beat enemies, and a rope that

would tie them up." Compare also the "Dadhi-vahana-jataka," No. 186,

which is connected with our No. 27. In the Filipino story of "Alberto

and the Monsters" (No. 39) the hero acquires a transportation-boot

from two quarrelling boys; from two young men, a magic key that will

unlock any stone; and from two old men wrangling over it, a hat of

invisibility. In another Tagalog story, "Ricardo and his Adventures"

(notes to No. 49), appears a flying saddle, but this is not obtained

by trickery.

For the "Fee-fi-fo-fum" formula hinted at in our story, see

Bolte-Polívka, 1 : 289-292.

In many of the members of this cycle, when the hero takes his leave

of his brothers-in-law, he is given feathers, hair, scales, etc.,

with which he can summon them in time of need. In our story, however,

Juan has no such labor-saving device: he has to visit his brothers

a second time when he desires aid against the giant.

The last part of our story turns on the idea of the "separable soul or

strength" of the dragon, snake, demon, giant, or other monster. This

idea has been fully discussed by Macculloch (chapter V). As this

conception is widespread in the Orient and is found in Malayan

literature (e.g., in "Bidasari"), there is no need of tracing its

occurrence in the Philippines to Europe. In the norm of this cycle,

the animal brothers-in-law help the hero perform tasks which the

king requires all suitors for his daughter's hand to perform. Here

the beasts help the hero secure the life and strength of the giant

who is holding the princess captive.

Taken as a whole, our story seems to have been imported into the

Philippines from the Occident, for the reason that no Oriental

analogues of it appear to exist, while not a few are known from

southern Europe. Our two variants are from the Tagalog province of

Batangas, and, so far as I know, the story is not found elsewhere

in the Islands. As suggested above, however, the introduction is

probably native, or at least very old, and the conclusion has been

modified by the influence of another cycle well known in the Orient.

TALE 19

JUAN WEARING A MONKEY'S SKIN.

Narrated by Lorenzo Licup, a Pampango from Angeles, Pampanga.

Once upon a time there was a couple which was at first childless. The

father was very anxious to have a son to inherit his property: so

he went to the church daily, and prayed God to give him a child,

but in vain. One day, in his great disappointment, the man exclaimed

without thinking, "O great God! let me have a son, even if it is in

the form of a monkey!" and only a few days later his wife gave birth

to a monkey. The father was so much mortified that he wanted to kill

his son; but finally his better reason prevailed, and he spared the

child. He said to himself, "It is my fault, I know; but I uttered

that invocation without thinking." So, instead of putting the monkey

to death, the couple just hid it from visitors; and whenever any one

asked for the child, they merely answered, "Oh, he died long ago."

The time came when the monkey grew to be old enough to marry. He

went to his father, and said, "Give me your blessing, father! for I

am going away to look for a wife." The father was only too glad to

be freed from this obnoxious son, so he immediately gave him his

blessing. Before letting him go, however, the father said to the

monkey, "You must never come back again to our house."

"Very well, I will not," said the monkey.

The monkey then left his father's house, and went to find his

fortune. One night he dreamed that there was a castle in the midst

of the sea, and that in this castle dwelt a princess of unspeakable

beauty. The princess had been put there so that no one might discover

her existence. The monkey, who had been baptized two days after

his birth and was named Juan, immediately repaired to the palace of

the king. There he posted a letter which read as follows: "I, Juan,

know that your Majesty has a daughter."

Naturally the king was very angry to have his secret discovered. He

immediately sent soldiers to look for Juan. Juan was soon found, and

brought to the palace. The king said to him, "How do you know that I

have a daughter? If you can bring her here, I will give her to you for

a wife. If not, however, your head shall be cut off from your body."

"O your Majesty!" said Juan, "I am sure that I can find her and

bring her here. I am willing to lose my head if within three days I

fail to fulfil my promise." After he had said this, Juan withdrew,

and sadly went out to look for the hidden princess.

As he was walking along the road, he heard the cry of a bird. He

looked up, and saw a bird caught between two boughs so that it could

not escape. The bird said to him, "O monkey! if you will but release

me, I will give you all I have."

"Oh, no!" said the monkey. "I am very hungry, and would much rather

eat you."

"If you will but spare my life," said the bird, "I will give you

anything you want."

"On one condition only will I set you free," said the monkey. "You

must procure for me the ring of the princess who lives in the midst

of the sea."

"Oh, that's an easy thing to do," said the bird. So the monkey climbed

the tree and set the bird free.

The bird immediately flew to the island in the sea, where fortunately

it found the princess refreshing herself in her garden. The princess

was so charmed with the song of the bird, that she looked up, and said,

"O little bird! if you will only promise to live with me, I will give

you anything you want."

"All right," said the bird. "Give me your ring, and I will forever

live with you." The princess held up the ring; and the bird suddenly

snatched it and flew away with it. It gave the ring to the monkey,

who was, of course, delighted to get it.

Now the monkey jogged along the road until finally he saw three

witches. He approached them, and said to them, "You are the very

beings for whom I have spent the whole day looking. God has sent me

here from heaven to punish you for your evil doings toward innocent

persons. So I must eat you up."

Now, witches are said to be afraid of ill-looking persons, although

they themselves are the ugliest beings in all the world. So these

three were terribly frightened by the monkey's threat, and said,

"O sir! spare our lives, and we will do anything for you !"

"Very well, I will spare you if you can execute my order. From this

shore you must build a bridge which leads to the middle of the sea,

where the castle of the princess is situated."

"That shall be speedily done," replied the witches; and they at once

gathered leaves, which they put on their backs. Then they plunged into

the water. Immediately after them a bridge was built. Thus the monkey

was now able to go to the castle. Here he found the princess. She

was very much surprised to see this evil-looking animal before her;

but she was much more frightened when the monkey showed her the ring

which the bird had given him, and claimed her for his wife. "It is the

will of God that you should go with me," said the monkey, after the

princess had shown great repugnance towards him. "You either have to

go with me or perish." Thinking it was useless to attempt to resist

such a mighty foe, the princess finally yielded.

The monkey led her to the king's palace, and presented her before her

parents; but no sooner had the king and queen seen their daughter in

the power of the beast, than they swooned. When they had recovered,

they said simultaneously, "Go away at once, and never come back

here again, you girl of infamous taste! Who are you? You are not

the princess we left in the castle. You are of villain's blood, and

the very air which you exhale does suffocate us. So with no more ado

depart at once!"

The princess implored her father to have pity, saying that it was

the will of God that she should be the monkey's wife. "Perhaps I have

been enchanted by him, for I am powerless to oppose him." But all her

remonstrance was in vain. The king shut his ears against any deceitful

or flattering words that might fall from the lips of his faithless

and disobedient daughter. Seeing that the king was obstinate, the

couple turned their backs on the palace, and decided to find a more

hospitable home. So the monkey now took his wife to a neighboring

mountain, and here they settled.

One day the monkey noticed that the princess was very sad and pale. He

said to her, "Why are you so sad and unhappy, my darling? What is

the matter?"

"Nothing. I am just sorry to have only a monkey for my husband. I

become sad when I think of my past happiness."

"I am not a monkey, my dear. I am a real man, born of human

parents. Didn't you know that I was baptized by the priest, and

that my name is Juan?" As the princess would not believe him, the

monkey went to a neighboring hut and there cast off his disguise

(balit cayu). He at once returned to the princess. She was amazed to

see a sparkling youth of not more than twenty years of age--nay, a

prince--kneeling before her. "I can no longer keep you in ignorance,"

he said. "I am your husband, Juan."

"Oh, no! I cannot believe you. Don't try to deceive me! My husband is

a monkey; but, with all his defects, I still cling to him and love

him. Please go away at once, lest my husband find you here! He will

be jealous, and may kill us both."

"Oh, no! my darling, I am your husband, Juan. I only disguised myself

as a monkey."

But still the princess would not believe him. At last she said to him,

"If you are my real husband, you must give me a proof of the fact." So

Juan [we shall hereafter call him by this name] took her to the place

where he had cast off his monkey-skin. The princess was now convinced,

and said to herself, "After all, I was not wrong in the belief I have

entertained from the beginning,--that it was the will of God that I

should marry this monkey, this man."

Juan and the princess now agreed to go back to the palace and tell the

story. So they went. As soon as the king and queen saw the couple, they

were very much surprised; but to remove their doubt, Juan immediately

related to the king all that had happened. Thus the king and queen

were finally reconciled to the at first hated couple. Juan and his

wife succeeded to the throne on the death of the king, and lived

peacefully and happily during their reign.

The story is now ended. Thus we see that God compensated the father

and mother of Juan for their religious zeal by giving them a son, but

punished them for not being content with what He gave them by taking

the son away from them again, for Juan never recognized his parents.

Notes.

A Bicol version, "The Monkey becomes King," narrated by Gregorio

Frondoso, who heard the story from an old man of his province, is

almost identical with this Pampango tale. There are a few slight

differences, however. "In the Bicol, the rich parents give their

monkey-offspring away to a man, who keeps the animal in a cage. Finally

the monkey manages to escape, and sets out on his travels. Now the

king of that country builds a high tower in the middle of the sea,

imprisons his daughter there, and promises her hand to the one who can

take her from the tower. The monkey succeeds, as in the Pampango. The

rest of the story is practically as given in the text, except that

the narrator mentions the fact that the monkey's parents fall into

poverty, and in their distress seek aid from their son, now become

king. However, he refuses to recognize them, because of their former

harshness to him, and drives them away." With both these stories may

be compared two other Filipino tales already in print, "The Enchanted

Shell" (JAFL 20 : 90-91) and "The Living Head" (ibid., 19 : 106).

The "Animal Child" cycle, of which our story and its variants are

members is widely spread throughout Europe. The main incidents of

this group are the following.

A In accordance with the wish of the parents, a child in the form

of an animal is brought into the world. This phenomenon usually

takes place in consequence of a too vehement prayer for children,

or an inconsiderate wish for a son even if he should prove to be only

an animal.

B The animal offspring grows up, is married usually through his own

ingenuity, and is finally disenchanted through the burning of his

animal disguise either with or without his consent.

European representatives of this type are Grimm, Nos. 108, 144;

Von Hahn, Nos. 14, 31, 43, 57, 100; Wuk, No. 9; Pröhle, No. 13;

Straparola 2 : i; Basile, No. 15; Schott, No. 9; Pitrè, No. 56 (see

also his notes); Comparetti, Nos. 9, 66. Compare also Köhler-Bolte,

318-319. Related Oriental forms of this story are discussed by Benfey,

1 : 254 ff. (section 92).