FABLES AND ANIMAL STORIES.
TALE 55
THE TURTLE AND THE MONKEY.
Narrated by Eutiquiano Garcia of Mexico, Pampanga.
It was mid-day. The blinding heat of the sun forced all the
water-loving animals--such as pigs, carabaos, and turtles--to go to
the river-banks and there seek to cool themselves in the water. On
that part of the bank where a big shady tree stood, a monkey and a
turtle were having a good time, discussing the past, present, and
future. Just then they saw a banana-stalk floating by.
"Don't you think that it would be a wise thing for us to get that
banana-stalk and plant it?" said the monkey.
"Can you swim?" replied the turtle.
"No, I can't, but you can," said the monkey.
"I will get the banana-tree," said the turtle, "on condition that
we divide it. You must allow me to have the upper part, where the
leaves are." The monkey agreed; but when the stalk was brought to
shore, the monkey took the leaves himself, and gave the turtle only
the roots. As the humble turtle was unable to fight the monkey, all
he could do was to pick up his share and take it to the woods and
plant it. It was not strange that the monkey's part died, while that
of the turtle brought forth clusters of ripe bananas in time.
When the monkey learned that the bananas were ripe, he went to visit
his friend the turtle. "I will give you half the bananas," said the
turtle, "if you will only climb the stalk and get the fruit for me."
"With great pleasure," replied the monkey. In less than a minute he
was at the top of the tree. There he took his time, eating all he
could, and stopping now and then to throw a banana-peeling down to
his friend below. What could the poor turtle do? It was impossible
for him to climb.
"I know what I'll do!" he said to himself. He gathered pointed sticks,
and set them all around the base of the tree. Then he cried out to the
monkey, saying, "The hunters are coming! The hunters are coming!" The
monkey was very much frightened, so he jumped down in the hope of
escaping; but he was pierced by the sharp sticks, and in a few hours
he died. Thus the turtle got his revenge on the selfish monkey.
When the monkey was dead, the turtle skinned him, dried his meat, and
sold it to the other monkeys in the neighborhood. But, in taking off
the skin, the turtle was very careless: he left here and there parts
of the fur sticking to the meat; and from this fact the monkeys which
had bought the meat judged the turtle guilty of murder of one of their
brethren. So they took the turtle before their chief, and he was tried.
When the turtle's guilt had been established, the monkey-chief ordered
him to be burned.
"Fire does not do me any harm," said the turtle. "Don't you see the
red part on my back? My father has burned me many times."
"Well, if fire doesn't harm him, cut him to pieces," said the
monkey-chief angrily.
"Neither will this punishment have any effect on me," continued the
wise turtle. "My back is full of scars. My father used to cut me over
and over again."
"What can we do with him?" said the foolish monkeys. At last the
brightest fellow in the group said, "We will drown him in the lake."
As soon as the turtle heard this, he felt happy, for he knew that
he would not die in the water, However, he pretended to be very
much afraid, and he implored the monkeys not to throw him into the
lake. But he said to himself, "I have deceived all these foolish
monkeys." Without delay the monkeys took him to the lake and threw
him in. The turtle dived; and then he stuck his head above the surface
of the water, laughing very loud at them.
Thus the turtle's life was saved, because he had used his brains in
devising a means of escape.
The Monkey and the Turtle.
Narrated by Bienvenido Gonzales of Pampanga. He heard the story from
his younger brother, who heard it in turn from a farmer. It is common
in Pampanga.
Once there lived two friends,--a monkey and a turtle. One day they saw
a banana-plant floating on the water. The turtle swam out and brought
it to land. Since it was but a single plant and they had to divide it,
they cut it across the middle.
"I will have the part with the leaves on," said the monkey, thinking
that the top was best. The turtle agreed and was very well pleased, but
she managed to conceal her joy. The monkey planted his part, the top
of the tree; and the turtle planted hers, the roots. The monkey's plant
died; but that of the turtle grew, and in time bore much fine fruit.
One day, since the turtle could not get at the bananas, she asked
the monkey to climb the tree and bring down the bananas. In return
for this service she offered to give him half the fruit. The monkey
clambered up the tree, but he ate all the fruit himself: he did not
give the turtle any. The turtle became very angry, waiting in vain;
so she collected many sharp sticks, and stuck them in the trunk of the
tree. Then she went away. When the monkey slid down to the ground,
he injured himself very badly on the sharp sticks; so he set off to
find the turtle and to revenge himself.
The monkey looked for a long time, but finally found the turtle under
a pepper-plant. As the monkey was about to strike her, she said,
"Keep quiet! I am guarding the king's fruits."
"Give me some!" said the monkey.
"Well, I will; here are some!" said the turtle. "But you must promise
me not to chew them until I am far away; for the king might see you,
and then he would punish me." The monkey agreed. When the turtle was
a long way off, he began to chew the peppers. They were very hot,
and burned his mouth badly. He was now extremely angry, and resolved
that it would go hard with the turtle when he should catch her.
He searched all through the woods and fields for her. At last he
found her near a large snake-hole. The monkey threatened to kill the
turtle; but she said to him, "Friend monkey, do you want to wear the
king's belt?"
"Why, surely! Where is it?" said the monkey.
The turtle replied, "It will come out very soon: watch for it!" As
soon as the snake came out, the monkey caught it; but the snake
rolled itself around his body, and squeezed him nearly to death. He
finally managed to get free of the snake; but he was so badly hurt,
that he swore he would kill the turtle as soon as he should find her.
The turtle hid herself under a cocoanut-shell. The monkey was by this
time very tired, so he sat down on the cocoanut-shell to rest. As he
sat there, he began to call loudly, "Turtle, where are you?"
The turtle answered in a low voice, "Here I am!"
The monkey looked all around him, but he saw nobody. He thought that
some part of his body was joking him. He called the turtle again,
and again the turtle answered him.
The monkey now said to his abdomen, "If you answer again when I don't
call you, stomach, I'll punish you." Once more he called the turtle;
and once more she said, "I am here!"
This was too much for the monkey. He seized a big stone, and began to
hit his belly with it. He injured himself so much, that he finally
died.
The Monkey and the Turtle.
Narrated by José M. Katigbak of Batangas, Batangas. This is a genuine
Tagalog story, he says, which he heard from his friend Angel Reyes.
Once upon a time there was a turtle who was very kind and patient. He
had many friends. Among them was a monkey, who was very selfish. He
always wanted to have the best part of everything.
One day the monkey went to visit the turtle. The monkey asked his
friend to accompany him on a journey to the next village. The turtle
agreed, and they started early the next morning. The monkey did not
take much food with him, because he did not like to carry a heavy
load. The turtle, on the contrary, took a big supply. He advised the
monkey to take more, but the monkey only laughed at him. After they
had been travelling five days, the monkey's food was all gone, so the
turtle had to give him some. The monkey was greedy, and kept asking
for more all the time. "Give me some more, friend turtle!" he said.
"Wait a little while," said the turtle. "We have just finished eating."
As the monkey made no reply, they travelled on. After a few minutes
the monkey stopped, and said, "Can't you travel a little faster?"
"I can't, for I have a very heavy load," said the turtle.
"Give me the load, and then we shall get along more rapidly," said
the monkey. The turtle handed over all his food to the monkey, who
ran away as fast as he could, leaving the turtle far behind.
"Wait for me!" said the turtle, doing his best to catch his friend;
but the monkey only shouted, "Come on!" and scampered out of sight. The
turtle was soon very tired and much out of breath, but he kept on. The
monkey climbed a tree by the roadside, and looked back. When he saw
his friend very far in the rear, he ate some of the food. At last
the turtle came up. He was very hungry, and asked the monkey for
something to eat.
"Come on a little farther," said the selfish monkey. "We will eat
near a place where we can get water." The turtle did not say anything,
but kept plodding on. The monkey ran ahead and did the same thing as
before, but this time he ate all the food.
"Why did you come so late?" said the monkey when the turtle came
up panting.
"Because I am so hungry that I cannot walk fast," answered the
turtle. "Will you give me some food?" he continued.
"There is no more," replied the monkey. "You brought very little. I
ate all there was, and I am still hungry."
As the turtle had no breath to waste, he continued on the road. While
they were on their way, they met a hunter. The monkey saw the hunter
and climbed a tree, but the man caught the turtle and took it home
with him. The monkey laughed at his friend's misfortune. But the
hunter was kind to the turtle: he tied it near a banana-tree, and
gave it food every hour.
One day the monkey happened to pass near the house of the hunter. When
he saw that his friend was tied fast, he sneered at him; but after
he had remained there a few hours, and had seen how the turtle was
fed every hour, he envied the turtle's situation. So when night came,
and the hunter was asleep, the monkey went up to the turtle, and said,
"Let me be in your place."
"No, I like this place," answered the turtle.
The monkey, however, kept urging and begging the turtle, so that
finally the turtle yielded. Then the monkey set the turtle free,
and tied himself to the tree. The turtle went off happy; and the
monkey was so pleased, that he could hardly sleep during the night
for thinking of the food the hunter would give him in the morning.
Early the next morning the hunter woke and looked out of his window. He
caught sight of the monkey, and thought that the animal was stealing
his bananas. So he took his gun and shot him dead. Thus the turtle
became free, and the monkey was killed.
MORAL: Do not be selfish.
Notes.
The story of these two opponents, the monkey and the turtle, is
widespread in the Philippines. In the introduction to a collection
of Bagobo tales which includes a version of this fable, Laura Watson
Benedict says (JAFL 26 [1913] : 14), "The story of 'The Monkey and
the Turtle' is clearly modified from a Spanish source." In this note
I hope to show not only that the story is native in the sense that
it must have existed in the Islands from pre-Spanish times, but also
that the Bagobo version represents a connecting link between the
other Philippine forms and the original source of the whole cycle,
a Buddhistic Jataka. Merely from the number of Philippine versions
already collected, it seems reasonable to suspect that the story is
Malayan: it is found from one end of the Archipelago to the other, and
the wild tribes have versions as well as the civilized. In addition
to our one Tagalog and two Pampangan versions, five other Philippine
forms already exist in print, and may be cited for comparison. These
are the following:--
(d) Bagobo, "The Monkey and the Tortoise" (JAFL 26 : 58).
(e) Visayan, "Ca Matsin and Ca Boo-ug" (JAFL 20 : 316).
(f) Tagalog, "The Monkey and the Turtle" (JAFL 21 : 46).
(g) Tinguian, "The Turtle and the Monkey" (Cole, 195, No. 77).
(k) Tagalog, Rizal's "Monkey and the Turtle." [100]
Before discussing the origin of the story, we may examine the different
incidents found in the Philippine versions. That they vary considerably
may be seen from the following list:--
A The division of the banana-stalk: monkey takes top; and turtle,
roots. Monkey's share dies, turtle's grows, or (A1) monkey and turtle
together find banana-tree growing; turtle unable to climb, but monkey
easily gets at the fruit.
B Monkey steals turtle's bananas and will not give him any, or (B1)
sticks banana up his anus and throws it to turtle, or (B2) drops his
excrement into turtle's mouth.
C Turtle, in revenge, plants sharp stakes (or thorns) around base of
the banana-tree; and when monkey descends, he is severely injured,
or (C1) he is killed.
D Turtle sells monkey-flesh to other monkeys; either his trick is
discovered accidentally by the monkeys, or (D1) the turtle jeers them
for eating of their kind.
E Turtle is sentenced to death. He says, "You may burn me or pound me,
but for pity's sake don't drown me!" The monkeys "drown" the turtle,
and he escapes.
F The monkeys attempt to drink all the water in the lake, so as to
reach the turtle: they burst themselves and perish. Or (F1) they
get a fish to drain the pond dry; fish is punctured by a bird, water
rushes out, and monkeys are drowned. Or (F2) monkeys summon all the
other animals to help them drink the lake dry. The animals put leaves
over the ends of their urethras, so that the water will not flow out;
but a bird pecks the leaves away, and the monkeys turn to revenge
themselves on the bird. (F3) They catch him and pluck out all his
feathers; but the bird recovers, and revenges himself as below (G).
G Monkeys and other animals are enticed to a fruit-tree in a meadow,
and are burned to death in a jungle fire kindled by the turtle and
his friend the bird.
H Episode of guarding king's fruit-tree or bread-tree (Chile peppers).
J Episode of guarding king's belt (boa-constrictor).
K Turtle deceives monkey with his answers, so that the monkey thinks
part of his own body is mocking him. Enraged, he strikes himself with
a stone until he dies.
L Turtle captured by hunter gets monkey to exchange places with him
by pointing out the advantages of the situation. Monkey subsequently
shot by the hunter.
These incidents are distributed as follows:
Version (a) ABC1DE
Version (b) ABCHJK
Version (c) (Opening different, but monkey greedy as in B) L
Version (d) A1B2C1D1EF2F3G
Version (e) ABC1DEF1
Version (f) A1BC (glass on trunk of tree) EF (monkey in his rage
leaps after turtle and is drowned)
Version (g) AB1C1 (sharp shells) DEF (monkeys dive in to catch
fish when they see turtle appear with one in his mouth, and are
drowned). Incidents K and a form of J are found in the story of
"The Turtle and the Lizard" (Cole, 196)
The incidents common to most of these versions are some form of
ABCDEF; and these, I think, we must consider as integral parts of the
story. It will be seen that one of our versions (c) properly does not
belong to this cycle at all, except under a very broad definition of
the group. In all these tales the turtle is the injured creature:
he is represented as patient and quiet, but clever. The monkey is
depicted as selfish, mischievous, insolent, but stupid. In general,
although the versions differ in details, they are all the same story,
in that they tell how a monkey insults a turtle which has done him
no harm, and how he finally pays dearly for his insult.
The oldest account I know of, telling of the contests between
the monkey and the turtle, is a Buddhist birth-story, the
"Kacchapa-jataka," No. 273, which narrates how a monkey insulted a
tortoise by thrusting his penis down the sleeping tortoise's throat,
and how the monkey was punished. Although this particular obscene
jest is not found in any of our versions, I think that there is a
trace of it preserved in the Bagobo story. The passage runs thus
(loc. cit. pp. 59-60): "At that all the monkeys were angry [incident
D], and ran screaming to catch the tortoise. But the tortoise hid under
the felled trunk of an old palma brava tree. As each monkey passed
close by the trunk where the tortoise lay concealed, the tortoise said,
'Drag (or lower) your membrum! Here's a felled tree.' Thus every
monkey passed by clear of the trunk, until the last one came by; and
he was both blind and deaf. When he followed the rest, he could not
hear the tortoise call out, and his membrum struck against the fallen
trunk. He stopped, and became aware of the tortoise underneath. Then
he screamed to the rest; and all the monkeys came running back,
and surrounded the tortoise, threatening him." This incident, in its
present form obscure and unreasonable (it is hard to see how following
the tortoise's directions would have saved the monkeys from injury,
and how the blind and deaf monkey "became aware" of the tortoise just
because he hit the tree), probably originally represented the tortoise
as seizing the last monkey with his teeth (present form, "his membrum
struck against the fallen trunk"), so that in this way the monkey
became painfully aware of the tortoise's close proximity. Hence his
screams, too,--of pain. With incident B2 two other Buddhist stories
are to be compared. The "Mahisa-jataka," No. 278, tells how an impudent
monkey voids his excrement on a patient buffalo (the Bodhisatta) under
a tree. The vile monkey is later destroyed when he plays the same
trick on another bull. In the "Kapi-jataka," No. 404, a bad monkey
drops his excrement first on the head and then into the mouth of a
priest, who later takes revenge on the monkey by having him and all
his following of five hundred destroyed. All in all, the agreement
in general outline and in some details between these Hindoo stories
and ours justifies us, I believe, in assuming without hesitation that
our stories are descended directly from Buddhistic fables, possibly
these very Jatakas. Compare also the notes to Nos. 48 and 56.
For a Celebes variant of the story of "The Monkey and the Turtle,"
see Bezemer, p. 287.
The sources of the other incidents, which I have not found in the
Buddhistic stories, I am unable to point out. However, many of them
occur in the beast tales of other Oriental and Occidental countries:
for instance, incident E is a commonplace in "Brer Rabbit" stories
both in Africa and America, whence it has made its way into the tales
of the American Indians (see, for example, Honeÿ, 82; Cole, 195, note;
Dähnhardt, 4 : 43-45); incident J and another droll episode found in
an Ilocano story--"king's bell" (= beehive) motif--occur in a Milanau
tale from Sarawak, Borneo, "The Plandok, Deer, and the Pig" (Roth, 1 :
347), and in two other North Borneo stories given by Evans (p. 474),
"Plandok and Bear" and "Plandok and Tiger." In Malayan stories in
general, the mouse-deer (plandok) is represented as the cleverest
of animals, taking the rôle of the rabbit in African tales, and of
the jackal in Hindoo. In the Ilocano story referred to, both these
incidents--"king's belt" and "king's bell"--are found, though the
rest of the tale belongs to the "Carancal" group (No. 3; see also
No. 4 [b]), Incident L is found among the Negroes of South Africa
(Honeÿ, 84, where the two animals are a monkey and a jackal). With
incident G compare a Tibetan story (Ralston, No. XLII), where men
take counsel as to how to kill a troop of monkeys that are destroying
their corn. The plan is to cut down all the trees which stand about
the place, one Tinduka-tree only being allowed to remain. A hedge of
thorns is drawn about the open space, and the monkeys are to be killed
inside the enclosure when they climb the tree in search of food. The
monkeys escape, however; for another monkey goes and fires the village,
thus distracting the attention of the men. Incident D, the Thyestean
banquet, is widespread throughout European saga and Märchen literature:
but even this incident Cosquin (I : xxxix) connects with India through
an Annamite tale. With incident F3 compare a story from British North
Borneo (Evans, 429-430), in which the adjutant-bird (lungun) and the
tortoise revenge themselves on monkeys. The monkeys pull out all of the
bird's feathers while it is asleep. In two months the feathers grow in
again, and the bird seeks vengeance. It gets the tortoise to help it
by placing its body in a large hole in the bottom of a boat, so that
the water will not leak in; the bird then sails the boat. The monkeys
want a ride, and the bird lets forty-one of them in. When the boat is
out in the ocean and begins to roll, the bird advises the monkeys to
tie their tails together two and two and sit on the edge of the boat
to steady it. Then the bird flies away, the tortoise drops out of the
hole, and the boat sinks. All the monkeys are drowned but the odd one.
TALE 56
THE MONKEY AND THE CROCODILE.
Tagalog Version.
Narrated by Engracio Abasola of Manila. He heard the story from
his nephew.
One day, while a clever monkey was searching for his food along the
river-bank, he saw a tall macopa-tree laden with ripe fruits. The
tree was standing just by the shore of a river where a young crocodile
lived. After eating all the fruit he wanted, the monkey climbed down
the tree. He suddenly conceived the desire of getting on the other
side of the wide river, but he found no means by which to cross. At
last he saw the crocodile, who had just waked up from his siesta;
and the monkey said to him in a friendly way, "My dear crocodile,
will you do me a favor?"
The crocodile was greatly surprised by this amicable salutation of the
monkey. However, he answered humbly, "Oh, yes! If there is anything I
can do for you, I shall be glad to do it." The monkey then told the
crocodile that he wanted to reach the other side of the river. Then
the crocodile said, "I'll take you over with all my heart. Just sit
on my back, and we'll go at once."
When the monkey was firmly seated on the crocodile's back, they began
their trip. In a short while they reached the middle of the stream,
and the crocodile began to laugh aloud. "Now, you foolish monkey!" it
said, "I'll eat your liver and kidneys, for I'm very hungry." The
monkey became nervous; but he concealed his anxiety, and said, "To
be sure! I thought myself that you might be hungry, so I prepared my
liver and kidneys for your dinner; but unfortunately, in our haste
to depart, I left them hanging on the macopa-tree. I'm very glad that
you mentioned the matter. Let us return, and I'll get you the food."
The foolish crocodile, convinced that the monkey was telling the
truth, turned back toward the shore they had just left. When they were
near, the monkey nimbly jumped on to the dry land and scampered up
the tree. When the crocodile saw how he had been deceived, he said,
"I am a fool."
Zambal Version.
Narrated by Leopoldo Uichanco, a Tagalog, who heard the story from
a native of Zambales.
One stormy day a monkey was standing by the shore of a river, wondering
how he could get to the other side. He could not get over by himself;
for the water was deep, and he did not know how to swim. He looked
about for some logs; but all he saw was a large crocodile with its
mouth wide open, ready to seize him. He was very much frightened;
but he said, "O Mr. Crocodile! pray, do not kill me! Spare my life,
and I will lead you to a place where you can get as many monkeys as
will feed you all your life."
The crocodile agreed, and the monkey said that the place was on the
other side of the river. So the crocodile told him to get on his back,
and he would carry him across. Just before they reached the bank, the
monkey jumped to land, ran as fast as he could, and climbed up a tree
where his mate was. The crocodile could not follow, of course: so he
returned to the water, saying, "The time will come when you shall pay."
Not long afterwards the monkey found the crocodile lying motionless,
as if dead. About the place were some low Chile pepper-bushes loaded
with numerous bright-red fruits like ornaments on a Christmas tree. The
monkey approached the crocodile, and began playing with his tail;
but the crocodile made a sudden spring, and seized the monkey so
tightly that he could not escape. "Think first, think first!" said the
monkey. "Mark you, Mr. Crocodile! I am now the cook of his Majesty the
king. Those bright-red breads have been intrusted to my care," and the
monkey pointed to the pepper-shrubs. "The moment you kill me, the king
will arrive with thousands of well-armed troops, and will punish you."
The crocodile was frightened by what the monkey said. "Mr. Monkey,
I did not mean to harm you," he said. "I will set you free if you will
let me eat only as many pieces of bread as will relieve my hunger."
"Eat all you can," responded the monkey kindly. "Take as many as you
please. They are free to you."
Without another word, the crocodile let the monkey go, and rushed
at the heavily-laden bushes. The monkey slipped away secretly,
and climbed up a tree, where he could enjoy the discomfiture of his
voracious friend. The crocodile began to cough, sneeze, and scratch
his tongue. When he rushed to the river to cool his mouth, the monkey
only laughed at him.
MORAL: Use your own judgment; do not rely on the counsel of others,
for it is the father of destruction and ruin.
Notes.
Like the monkey and the turtle, the monkey and the crocodile have
been traditional enemies from time immemorial. In our present group
of stories, however, the rôles are reversed: the monkey is clever;
the water-animal (crocodile), cruel and stupid. Two very early
forms of this tale are the "Vanarinda-jataka," No. 57, which tells
how the crocodile lay on a rock to catch the monkey, and how the
latter outwitted the crocodile; and the "Sumsumara-jataka," No. 208,
in which a crocodile wanted the heart of a monkey, and the monkey
pretended that it was hanging on a fig-tree. From the Buddhistic
writings the story made its way into the famous collection known
as the "Kalilah and Dimnah," of which it forms the ninth chapter
in De Sacy's edition, and the fifth section in the later Syriac
version (English translation by I. G. N. Keith-Falconer, Cambridge,
1885). In the "Pancatantra" this story forms the framework for the
fourth book. For a discussion of the variations this tale underwent
when it passed over into other collections and spread through Europe,
see Benfey, 1 : 421 ff. Apparently Benfey did not know of these two
Buddhistic birth-stories; but he has shown very ingeniously that most
of the fables in the "Pancatantra" go back to Buddhistic writings. Nor
can there be any doubt in this case, either, though it is not to be
supposed that the five hundred and forty-seven Jatakas were invented
by the Buddhistic scribes who wrote them down. Many of them are far
older than Buddhism.
Our Zambal form of the story does not represent the purest version. A
variant much closer to the Buddhistic and close to the Tagalog is a
tale collected by Wenceslao Vitug of Lubao, Pampanga. He says that
the story is very common throughout his province, and is well known
in the Visayas. His version follows in abstract form:--
A crocodile goes out to look for a monkey-liver for his wife, who is
confined at home. As the crocodile starts to cross a stream, a monkey
asks for passage on its back. The crocodile gladly complies, and,
on arriving in mid-stream, laughs at the credulous monkey, and tells
him that he must have a monkey-liver. The monkey says, "Why didn't you
tell me before? There's one on a tree near the bank we just left." The
simple crocodile went back to the bank, whereupon the monkey escaped
and scrambled up into a tree to laugh at the crocodile. The crocodile
then tried to "play dead," but he could not fool the monkey. Next
he decided to go to the monkey's house. The monkey, suspecting his
design, said aloud, "When no one is in my house, it answers when I
call." The crocodile inside was foolish enough to answer when the
monkey called to his house, and the monkey ran away laughing.
Our Zambal story has evidently been contaminated with the story of
"The Monkey and the Turtle;" for it lacks the characteristic incident
of the monkey-heart (or liver), and contains incident H from our
No. 55. However, it does preserve an allusion to the principal episode
of the cycle,--in the ride the monkey takes on the crocodile's back
across the stream. Other Oriental versions of the "heart on tree"
incident are the following: Chinese, S. Beal's "Romantic Legend
of Sâkya Buddha" (London, 1875), pp. 231-234, where a dragon takes
the place of the crocodile; Swahili, Steere, p. i, where, instead
of a crocodile, we have a shark (so also Bateman, No. I); Japanese,
W. E. Griffis's "Japanese Fairy World," p. 144, where the sea-animal
is a jelly-fish. An interesting Russian variant, in which a fox takes
the place of the monkey, is printed in the Cambridge Jataka, 2 : 110.
Once upon a time the king of the fishes was wanting in wisdom. His
advisers told him that, once he could get the heart of a fox, he
would become wise. So he sent a deputation consisting of the great
magnates of the sea,--whales and others. "Our king wants your advice
on some state affairs." The fox, flattered, consented. A whale took
him on his back. On the way the waves beat upon him. At last he asked
what they really wanted. They said what their king really wanted
was to eat his heart, by which he hoped to become clever. He said,
"Why didn't you tell me that before? I would gladly sacrifice my life
for such a worthy object. But we foxes always leave our hearts at
home. Take me back, and I'll fetch it. Otherwise I'm sure your king
will be angry." So they took him back. As soon as he got near to the
shore, he leaped on land, and cried, "Ah, you fools! Have you ever
heard of an animal not carrying his heart with him?" and ran off. The
fish had to return empty.
A reminiscence of this incident is also found in Steel-Temple, No. XXI,
"The Jackal and the Partridge," where a partridge induces a crocodile
to carry her and the jackal across a river, and en route suggests
that he should upset the jackal, but at last dissuades him by saying
that the jackal had left his life behind him on the other shore.
Related to our Zambal story are two modern Indian folk-tales in
which a jackal is substituted for the monkey (this substitution is
analogous to the Indian substitution of the jackal for the Philippines
monkey in the "Puss-in-Boots" cycle). In the first of these--Frere,
No. XXIV, "The Alligator and the Jackal"--we have the incident of
the house answering when the owner calls. In Steel-Temple, No. XXXI,
"The Jackal and the Crocodile," the jackal makes love to the crocodile,
and induces her, under promise of marriage, to swim him across a stream
to some fruit he wants to eat. When she has brought him back, he says
that he thinks it may be a long time before he can make arrangements
for the wedding. The crocodile, in revenge, watches till he comes
to drink, and then seizes him by the leg. The jackal tells her
that she has got hold of a root instead of his leg: so she lets go,
and he escapes. Next she goes to his den to wait for him, and shams
dead. When the jackal sees her, he says that the dead always wag their
tails. The crocodile wags hers, and the jackal skips off. Closely
connected with this last is a story by Rouse, No. 20, "The Cunning
Jackal," only here the jackal's opponent is a turtle. The original,
unadapted story runs thus as given in the notes by Mr. Rouse:--
Jackal sees melons on the other side of the river. Sees a
tortoise. "How are you and your family?"--"I am well, but I have
no wife."-"Why did you not tell me? Some people on the other side
have asked me to find a match for their daughter."--"If you mean
it, I will take you across." Takes him across on his back. When
the melons are over (gone?), the jackal dresses up a jhan-tree as a
bride. "There is your bride, but she is too modest to speak till I am
gone." Tortoise carries him back. Calls to the stump. No answer,--Goes
up and touches it. Finds it a tree. Vows revenge. As jackal drinks,
catches his leg. "You fool! you have got hold of a stump by mistake;
see, here is my leg!" pointing to stump. Tortoise leaves hold, Jackal
escapes. Tortoise goes to jackal's den. Jackal returns, and sees
the footprints leading into the den. Piles dry leaves at the mouth,
and fires them. Tortoise expires.
Compare also a Borneo tale of a mouse-deer and a crocodile (Evans,
475). In a Santal story (Bompas, No. CXXIII, "The Jackal and the
Leopards") a jackal tricks some leopards. In the second half he
outwits a crocodile. Crocodile seizes jackal's leg. Jackal: "What a
fool of a crocodile to seize a tree instead of my leg!" Crocodile
lets go, and jackal escapes. Crocodile hides in a straw-stack to
wait for jackal. Jackal comes along wearing a sheep-bell it has
found. Crocodile says, "What a bother! Here comes a sheep, and I
am waiting for the jackal." Jackal hears the exclamation, bums the
straw-stack, and kills the crocodile.
The "Vanarinda-jataka," No. 57, contains what I believe is the
original of the "house-answering owner" droll episode in our Pampangan
variant. The monkey suspected the crocodile of lurking on the rock
to catch him: so he shouted, "Hi, rock!" three times, but received
no answer. Then he said, "How comes it, Friend Rock, that you won't
answer me to-day?" The crocodile, thinking that perhaps it was the
custom of the rock to return the greeting, answered for the rock;
whereupon the monkey knew of his presence, and escaped by a trick. The
"house-answering owner" episode is also found in a Zanzibar tale of
"The Hare and the Lion" (Bateman, No. 2, pp. 42-43). The hare here
suggests a Buddhistic source.
Of all the modern Oriental forms of the story, our Tagalog version and
Pampangan variant are closest to the Jatakas, and we may conclude
without hesitation that they mark a direct line of descent from
India. The fact that the story is popular in many parts of the Islands
makes it highly improbable that it was re-introduced to the Orient
through a Spanish translation of the "Kalilah and Dimnah."
For further bibliography and discussion of this cycle, see Dähnhardt,
4 : 1-26.
TALE 57
THE MONKEYS AND THE DRAGON-FLIES.
Narrated by Pedro D. L. Sorreta, a Bicol from Albay, who says that
the story is very common in the island of Catanduanes.
One day, when the sun was at the zenith and the air was very hot,
a poor dragon-fly, fatigued with her long journey, alighted to rest
on a branch of a tree in which a great many monkeys lived. While she
was fanning herself with her wings, a monkey approached her, and said,
"Aha! What are you doing here, wretched creature?"
"O sir! I wish you would permit me to rest on this branch while
the sun is so hot," said the dragon-fly softly. "I have been flying
all morning, and I am so hot and tired that I can go no farther,"
she added.
"Indeed!" exclaimed the monkey in a mocking tone. "We don't allow any
weak creature such as you are to stay under our shelter. Go away!" he
said angrily, and, taking a dry twig, he threw it at the poor creature.
The dragon-fly, being very quick, had flown away before the cruel
monkey could hit her. She hurried to her brother the king, and told
him what had happened. The king became very angry, and resolved to
make war on the monkeys. So he despatched three of his soldiers to
the king of the monkeys with this challenge:--
"The King of the Monkeys.
"Sir,--As one of your subjects has treated my sister cruelly, I
am resolved to kill you and your subjects with all speed.
"DRAGON."
The monkey-king laughed at the challenge. He said to the messengers,
"Let your king and his soldiers come to the battle-field, and they
will see how well my troops fight."
"You don't mean what you say, cruel king," answered the
messengers. "You should not judge before the fight is over."
"What fools, what fools!" exclaimed the king of the monkeys. "Go
to your ruler and tell him my answer," and he drove the poor little
creatures away.
When the king of the dragon-flies received the reply, he immediately
ordered his soldiers to go to the battle-field, but without anything
to fight with. Meanwhile the monkeys came, each armed with a heavy
stick. Then the monkey-king shouted, "Strike the flying creatures
with your clubs!" When King Dragon heard this order, he commanded his
soldiers to alight on the foreheads of their enemies. Then the monkeys
began to strike at the dragon-flies, which were on the foreheads of
their companions. The dragon-flies were very quick, and were not hurt
at all: but the monkeys were all killed. Thus the light, quick-witted
dragon-flies won the victory over the strong but foolish monkeys.
Notes.
A Visayan variant, "The Ape and the Firefly" (JAFL 20 : 314) shows
the firefly making use of the same ruse the dragon-flies employ to
get the monkeys to slay one another. The first part of this variant
is connected with our No. 60. The "killing fly on head" incident we
have already met with in No. 9, in the notes to which I have pointed
out Buddhistic parallels. It also occurs in No. 60 (d). In a German
story (Grimm, No. 68, "The Dog and the Sparrow") the sparrow employs
the same trick to bring ruin and death on a heartless wagoner who
has cruelly run over the dog.
A closer analogue is the Celebes fable of "The Butterfly and the Ten
Monkeys," given in Bezemer, p. 292.
Our story belongs to the large cycle of tales in which is represented
a war between the winged creatures of the air and the four-footed
beasts. In these stories, as Grimm says in his notes to No. 102, "The
Willow-Wren and the Bear," "the leading idea is the cunning of the
small creatures triumphing over the large ones .... The willow-wren
is the ruler, for the saga accepts the least as king as readily as
the greatest." For the bibliography of the cycle and related cycles,
see Bolte-Polívka, 1 : 517-519, and 2 : 435-438, to which add the
"Latukika-jataka," No. 357, which tells how a quail brought about
the destruction of an elephant that had killed her young ones. I am
inclined to think that the Bicol and Visayan stories belonging to this
group are native--at least, have not been derived through the Spanish.
I have another Visayan story, however, relating a war between the
land and the air creatures, which may possibly have come from the
Occident. It was narrated by José R. Cuadra, and runs thus:--
The Battle between the Birds and the Beasts.
A great discussion once took place between the lion, king of the
land-animals, and the bat, king of the air-animals, over the relative
strength of each. The lion claimed to be more powerful than the bat,
while the bat claimed to be more powerful than the lion. The final
outcome was a declaration of war. The lion then called a general
meeting of all his subjects. Among them were tigers, leopards,
elephants, carabaos, wolves, and other fierce land-animals. The carabao
was appointed leader of the army. Each animal in turn made a speech to
the king, promising a sure victory for him. At the same time the bat
also called a general meeting of his subjects. There were present all
kinds of birds and insects. The leadership of the army was given to the
bees and the wasps. Early in the morning the two opposing armies were
assembled on the battle-field. At a given signal the battle began. The
land-animals tried to chase the air-animals, but in vain, for they
could not leave the ground. The bees and wasps were busy stinging
the eyes and bodies of their enemy. At last the land-animals retired
defeated, because they could not endure longer their severe punishment.
TALE 58
THE MONKEY, THE TURTLE, AND THE CROCODILE.
Narrated by Vicente Hilario, a Tagalog from Batangas. He heard the
story from his father, who said that it is common among the country
people around Batangas town.
There was once a monkey who used to deceive everybody whom he met. As
is the case with most deceivers, he had many enemies who tried to
kill him.
One day, while he was walking in the streets of his native town, he
met in a by-lane a turtle and a crocodile. They were so tired that they
could hardly breathe. "I'll try to deceive these slow creatures of the
earth," said the monkey to himself. So said, so done. He approached
the crocodile and turtle, and said to them, "My dear sirs, you are
so tired that you can hardly move! Where did you come from?"
The two travellers were so much affected by the kind words of the
monkey, that they told him all about themselves with the greatest
candor imaginable. They said, "We are strangers who have just made
a long journey from our native town. We don't know where to get food
or where to spend this cold night."
"I'll conduct you to a place where you can spend the night and get
all you want to eat," said the monkey.
"All right," said the two travellers. "Lead on! for we are very hungry
and at the same time very tired."
"Follow me," said the crafty monkey.
The turtle and the crocodile followed the monkey, and soon he brought
them to a field full of ripe pumpkins. "Eat all the pumpkins you want,
and then rest here. Meanwhile I'll go home and take my sleep, too."
While the two hungry travellers were enjoying a hearty meal, the owner
of the plantation happened to pass by. When he saw the crocodile,
he called to his laborers, and told them to bring long poles and
their bolos. The turtle clung to the tail of the crocodile, and away
they went.
"Don't cling to my tail! Don't cling to my tail!" said the
crocodile. "I cannot run fast if you cling to my tail. Let go! for
the men will soon overtake us."
"I have to cling to your tail," said the turtle, "or else there will
be no one to push you."
But their attempt to escape was unsuccessful. The men overtook them
and killed them both. Such was the unhappy end of the turtle and
the crocodile.
MORAL: Never trust a new friend or an old enemy.
Notes.
I know of no exact parallels for this story, though the character
of the monkey as depicted here is similar to that in No. 55. Compare
with it the rôle of the deceitful jackal in some of the South African
stories (e.g., Metelerkamp, No. v; Honeÿ, 22, 24, 45, 105, etc.). This
may be a sort of "compensation story," manufactured long ago, however,
in which the monkey gets even with his two traditional opponents,
the crocodile and the turtle.
TALE 59
THE IGUANA AND THE TURTLE.
Narrated by Sixto Guico of Binalonan, Pangasinan, who says that the
story is fairly common among the Pangasinanes.
Once upon a time there lived two good friends,--an iguana and a
turtle. They always went fishing together. One day the turtle invited
the iguana to go catch fish in a certain pond that he knew of. After
they had been there about two hours, the old man who owned the pond
came along. The iguana escaped, but the turtle was caught. The old
man took the turtle home, tied a string around its neck, and fastened
it under the house.
Early in the morning the iguana went to look for his friend the
turtle. The iguana wandered everywhere looking for him, and finally
he found him under the old man's house, tied to a post.
"What are you doing here, my friend?" said the iguana.
"That old man wants me to marry his daughter, but I do not want to
marry her," said the turtle.
Now, the iguana very much wanted a wife, and he was delighted at this
chance. So he asked the turtle to be allowed to take his place. The
turtle consented. So the iguana released the turtle, and was tied up
in his place. Then the turtle made off as fast as he could.
When the old man woke up, he heard some one saying over and over again,
"I want to marry your daughter." He became angry, and went down under
the house to see who was talking. There he found the iguana saying,
"I want to marry your daughter." The old man picked up a big stick
to beat its head, but the iguana cut the string and ran away.
On his way he came across the turtle again, who was listening to
the sound produced by the rubbing of two bamboos when the wind
blew. "What! are you here again?" said the iguana.
"Be quiet!" said the turtle. "I am listening to the pipe of my
grandfather up there. Don't you hear it?"
The iguana wanted to see the turtle's grandfather, so he climbed
up the tree, and put his mouth between the two bamboos that were
rubbing together. His mouth was badly pinched, and he fell down to
the ground. The turtle meanwhile had disappeared.
MORAL: This teaches that the one who believes foolishly will be
injured.
Notes.
This story is doubtless native. A Tinguian tale related to ours is
given by Cole (No. 78), whose abstract runs thus:--
A turtle and lizard go to stem ginger. The lizard talks so loudly
that he attracts the attention of the owner. The turtle hides; but the
lizard runs, and is pursued by the man. The turtle enters the house,
and hides under a cocoanut-shell. When the man sits on the shell, the
turtle calls. He cannot discover source of noise, and thinks it comes
from his testicles. He strikes these with a stone, and dies. The turtle
and the lizard see a bees' nest. The lizard hastens to get it, and
is stung. They see a bird-snare, and turtle claims it as the necklace
of his father. Lizard runs to get it, but is caught and killed.
Some of the incidents found in the Tinguian story we have met with
in No. 55; e.g., episodes K, J, L, and "king's bell." Indeed, there
appears to be a close connection between the "Monkey and Turtle"
group and this story. A Borneo tale of the mouse-deer (plandok),
small turtle (kikura), long-tailed monkey (kra), and bear contains
the "king's necklace" incident, and many other situations worthy of
notice. A brief summary of the droll, which may be found in Roth,
1 : 342-346, is here given:--
The Kikura deceives the Plandok with the necklace sell (snare), and
the Plandok is caught. When the hunter comes up, the little animal
feigns death, and is thrown away. Immediately it jumps up, and is
off to revenge itself on the turtle. It entices the turtle into
a covered pit by pretending to give it a good place to sleep. Man
examining pitfall discovers turtle, and fastens it with a forked
stick. Monkey comes along, exchanges places with the turtle, but
escapes with his life by feigning dead, as did the Plandok. Monkey,
turtle, and Plandok go fishing. Monkey steals ride across stream on
back of good-natured fish, which he later treacherously kills. The
three friends prepare the fish, and Bruin comes along. Fearing the
size of the bear's appetite, they send him to wash the pan; and when
he returns, fish, monkey, turtle, and mouse-deer have disappeared.
The escape of snared animals and birds by shamming dead, and then
making off when the bunter or fowler throws them aside as worthless,
is commonly met with in Buddhistic fables.
TALE 60
THE TRIAL AMONG THE ANIMALS.
Narrated by Domingo Pineda of Pampanga.
In ancient times Sinukuan, the judge of the animals, lived in one of
the caves of Mount Arayat. He had formerly lived in a neighboring town;
but, since he was so brave and strong, the people began to envy him,
then to hate him. At last they made so many plots against his life,
that he gave up all his property and friends in the town, and went
to live in Mount Arayat, where he devoted all his time to gaining
the friendship of the animals there.
Now, it was not hard for Sinukuan to win the love of the animals, for
he had the power of changing himself into whatever form he pleased;
and he always took the form of those animals who came to him. It
was not long before all the animals realized the power, wisdom,
and justice of their good companion, so they made him their judge.
One day a bird came to Sinukuan's court, and asked Sinukuan to
punish the frog for being so noisy during the night, while it was
trying to sleep. Sinukuan summoned the troublesome frog, and asked
him the reason for his misbehavior. The frog answered respectfully,
"Sir, I was only crying for help, because the turtle was carrying
his house on his back, and I feared that I might be buried under it."
"That is good enough reason," said Sinukuan; "you are free."
The turtle was the next to be summoned to Sinukuan's court. On his
arrival, he humbly replied to the question of the judge, "Honorable
Judge, I carried my house with me, because the firefly was playing
with fire, and I was afraid he might set fire to my home. Is it not
right to protect one's house from fire?"
"A very good reason; you are free," said Sinukuan.
In the same way the firefly was brought to court the next day, and
when the judge asked him why he was playing with fire, he said in
a soft voice, "It was because I have no other means with which to
protect myself from the sharp-pointed dagger of the mosquito." This
seemed a reasonable answer, so the firefly was liberated too.
Finally the mosquito was tried; and, since he did not have any good
reason to give for carrying his dagger, Sinukuan sentenced him
to three days' imprisonment. The mosquito was obliged to submit;
and it was during this confinement of the mosquito that he lost his
voice. Ever since, the male mosquito has had no voice; and he has
been afraid to carry his dagger, for fear of greater punishment.
The Pugu's Case.
Narrated by Bienvenido Tan of Manila, who got the story from Pampanga.
"Why, horse," said the pugu (a small bird), "did you touch my eggs,
so that now they are broken?"
"Because," said the horse, "the cock crowed, and I was startled."
"Why, cock," said the pugu, "did you crow, so that the horse was
startled and broke my eggs?"
"Because," said the cock, "I saw the turtle carrying his house;
that made me crow."
"Why, turtle," said the pugu, "did you carry your house with you,
so that the cock crowed, and the horse was startled and broke my eggs?"
"Because," said the turtle, "the firefly was carrying fire, and I
was afraid that he would burn my house."
"Why, firefly," said the pugu, "did you bring fire, so that the turtle
was frightened and carried his house, and the cock crowed when he
saw him, and the horse was startled and broke my eggs?"
"Because," said the firefly, "the mosquito will sting me if I have
no light."
"Why, mosquito," said the pugu, "did you try to sting the firefly,
so that he had to carry fire, so that the turtle was frightened and
carried his house, so that the cock laughed at the turtle, so that
the horse was startled and broke my eggs?"
"Because," said the mosquito, "Juan put up his mosquito-net, and
there was nobody for me to sting except the firefly (alipatpat.)"
"Why, Juan," said the pugu, "did you put up your mosquito-net? The
mosquito could not sting you, and tried to harm the firefly; the
firefly brought fire; the turtle was frightened, and carried his
house with him; the cock crowed when he saw the turtle; the horse
was startled when he heard the cock, and broke my eggs."
"Because," said Juan, "I did not care to lose any blood."
Why Mosquitoes Hum and Try to get into the Holes of our Ears.
Narrated by Fermin Torralba, a Visayan from Tagbilaran, Bohol.
He heard the story from an old man of his province.
A long time ago, when the world was much quieter and younger than it
is now, people told and believed many strange stories about wonderful
things which none of us have ever seen. In those very early times,
in the province of Bohol, there lived a creature called Mangla;
[101] he was king of the crabs.
One night, as he was very tired and sleepy, Mangla ordered his old
sheriff, Cagang, [102] leader of the small land-crabs, to call his
followers, Bataktak, [103] before him. Although the sheriff was old,
yet he brought them all in in a very short time. Then Mangla said
to the Bataktak, "You must all watch my house while I am sleeping;
but do not make any noise that will waken me." The Bataktak said,
"We are always ready to obey you." So Mangla went to sleep.
While he was snoring, it began to rain so hard that the guards could
not help laughing. The king awoke very angry; but, as he was still
very tired and sleepy, he did not immediately ask the Bataktak why
they laughed. He waited till morning came. So, as soon as the sun
shone, he called the Bataktak, and said to them, "Why did you laugh
last night? Did I not tell you not to make any noise?"
The Bataktak answered softly, "We could not help laughing, because
last night we saw our old friend Hu-man [104] carrying his house
on his shoulder." On account of this reasonable reply, the king
pardoned the Bataktak. Then he called his sheriff, and told him to
summon Hu-man. In a short time he came. The king at once said to him,
"What did you do last night?"
"Sir," replied Hu-man humbly, "I was carrying my house, because
Aninipot [105] was bringing fire, and I was afraid that my only
dwelling would be burned." This answer seemed reasonable to the king,
so he pardoned Hu-man. Then he told his sheriff Cagang to summon
Aninipot. When Aninipot appeared, the king, with eyes flashing with
anger, said to the culprit, "Why were you carrying fire last night?"
Aninipot was very much frightened, but he did not lose his wits. In a
trembling voice he answered, "Sir, I was carrying fire, because Lamoc
[106] was always trying to bite me. To protect myself, I am going to
carry fire all the time." The king thought that Aninipot had a good
reason, so he pardoned him also.
The king now realized that there was a great deal of trouble brewing
in his kingdom, of which he would not have been aware if he had
not been awakened by the Bataktak. So he sent his sheriff to get
Lamoc. In a short time Cagang appeared with Lamoc. But Lamoc, before
he left his own house, had told all his companions to follow him,
for he expected trouble. Before Lamoc reached the palace, the king was
already shouting with rage, so Lamoc approached the king and bit his
face. Then Mangla cried out, "It is true, what I heard from Bataktak,
Hu-man, and Aninipot!" The king at once ordered his sheriff to kill
Lamoc; but, before Cagang could carry out the order, the companions
of Lamoc rushed at him. He killed Lamoc, however, and then ran to
his home, followed by Lamoc's friends, who were bent on avenging the
murder. As Cagang's house was very deep under the ground, Lamoc's
friends could not get in, so they remained and hummed around the door.
Even to-day we can see that at the doors of the houses of Cagang and
his followers there are many friends of Lamoc humming and trying to
go inside. It is said that the Lamoc mistake the holes of our ears
for the house of Cagang, and that that is the reason mosquitoes hum
about our ears now.
A Tyrant.
Narrated by Facundo Esquivel of Jaen, Nueva Ecija. This is a Tagalog
story.
Once there lived a tyrannical king. One of his laws prohibited the
people from talking loudly. Even when this law had been put in force,
he still was not satisfied: so he ordered the law to be enforced
among the animals.
One of his officers once heard a frog croak. The officer caught
the frog and carried it before the king. The king began the trial
by saying, "Don't you know that there is a law prohibiting men and
animals from making a noise?"
"Yes, your Majesty," said the frog, "but I could not help laughing
to see the snail carrying his house with him wherever he goes."
The king was satisfied with the frog's answer, so he dismissed him and
called the snail. "Why do you always carry your house with you?" asked
the king.
"Because," said the snail, "I am always afraid the firefly is going to
burn it." The king next ordered the firefly to appear before him. The
king then said to the firefly, "Why do you carry fire with you always?"
"Because the mosquitoes will bite me if I do not carry this fire,"
said the firefly. This answer seemed reasonable to the king, so he
summoned the mosquito. When the mosquito was asked why he was always
trying to bite some one, he said, "Why, sir, I cannot live without
biting somebody."
The king was tired of the long trial, so with the mosquito he
determined to end it. After hearing the answer of the mosquito,
he said, "From now on you must not bite anybody. You have no right
to do so." The mosquito tried to protest the sentence, but the king
seized his mallet and determined to crush the mosquito with it. When
the mosquito saw what the king was going to do, he alighted on the
forehead of the king. The king became very angry at this insult,
and hit the mosquito hard. He killed the mosquito, but he also put
an end to his own tyranny.
MORAL: It is foolish to carry matters to extremes.
Notes.
A fifth form (e) of this "clock" story is "The Bacuit's Case," narrated
by W. Vitug of Lubao, Pampanga. As I have this tale only in abstract,
I give it here in that form:--
The bacuit (small, light gray bird which haunts marshes and ponds)
went to the eagle-king and brought suit against the frog because the
latter croaked all night, thus keeping the bacuit awake. The frog said
he croaked for fear of the turtle, who always carried his house with
him. The turtle, being summoned, explained that he carried his house
with him for fear that the firefly would set it on fire. The firefly,
in turn, showed that it was necessary for him to carry his lamp in
order to find his food.
There is a striking agreement of incident in all these stories,
as may be seen from the following abstracts of the versions.
Version a (Pampango), "Trial among Animals."
Bird vs. frog; frog vs, turtle; turtle vs. firefly; firefly
vs. mosquito.
Version b (Pampango), "The Pugu's Case."
Pugu vs. horse; horse vs. cock; cock vs. turtle; turtle vs. firefly,
firefly vs. mosquito; mosquito vs. Juan.
Version c (Visayan), "Why Mosquitoes Hum."
Crab vs. frogs; frogs vs. snail; snail vs. firefly; firefly
vs. mosquito.
Version d (Tagalog) "A Tyrant".
King's officer vs. frog; frog vs. snail; snail vs. firefly; firefly
vs. mosquito.
Version e (Pampango), "The Bacuit's Case."
Bacuit vs. frog; frog vs. turtle; turtle vs. firefly.
With the exception of the substitution of snail for turtle, and crab
for bird, in the Tagalog and Visayan versions, four of these forms (a,
c, d, e) are practically identical. Pampango e lacks the fourth link
in the chain (firefly vs. mosquito). Pampango b adds one link (horse
vs. cock), and substitutes cock for frog; the method of narration
varies somewhat from the others, also. The punishment of the mosquito
differs in a, c, and d. "The Trial among Animals" develops into a
"just-so" story, and may be a connecting link between a Tinguian fable
(Cole, No. 84) and two Borneo sayings (Evans, 447). In the Tinguian,
a mosquito came to bite a man. The man said, "You are very little,
and can do nothing to me." The mosquito answered, "If you had no ears,
I would eat you." The Bajan (Borneo) saying is, "Mosquitoes do not
make their buzzing unless they are near men's ears; and then they say,
'If these were not your ears, I would swallow you.'" The Dusun version
(Borneo) is, "The mosquito says, 'If these were not your horns, I
would swallow you.'" The "killing fly on face" droll episode, which
terminates the Tagalog version (d), we have already met with twice,
Nos. 9 and 57 (q.v.). The link "firefly vs. mosquito" is found in
the Visayan story "The Ape and the Firefly" (JAFL 20 : 314).
There can be no question but that this cycle is native to the Islands,
and was not imported from the Occident. A Malayan story given by Skeat
(Fables and Folk-Tales from an Eastern Forest, 9-12), "Who Killed
the Otter's Babies?" is clearly related to our tales, at least in
idea and method:--
The mouse-deer (plandok) is charged with killing the otter's babies
by trampling them to death, but excuses himself by saying that he was
frightened because the woodpecker sounded his war-gong. In the trial
before King Solomon, the above facts come out, and the woodpecker is
asked why he sounded the war-gong.
WOODPECKER. Because the great lizard was wearing his sword.
GREAT LIZARD. Because the tortoise had donned his coat of mail.
TORTOISE. Because King Crab was trailing his three-edged pike.
KING CRAB. Because Crayfish was shouldering his lance.
CRAYFISH. Because Otter was coming down to devour my children.
Thus the cause of the death of the otter's children is traced to the
otter himself.
Another Far-Eastern story from Laos (French Indo-China), entitled
"Right and Might" (Fleeson, 27), is worth notice:--
A deer, frightened by the noise of an owl and a cricket, flees through
the forest and into a stream, where it crushes a small fish almost to
death. The fish complains to the court; and the deer, owl, cricket,
and fish have a lawsuit. In the trial comes out this evidence: As the
deer fled, he ran into some dry grass, and the seed fell into the eye
of a wild chicken, and the pain caused by the seed made the chicken
fly up against a nest of red ants. Alarmed, the red ants flew out to
do battle, and in their haste bit a mongoose. The mongoose ran into
a vine of wild fruit, and shook several pieces of it on the head of
a hermit, who sat thinking under a tree. The hermit then asked the
fruit why it fell, and the fruit blamed the mongoose; mongoose blamed
ants; ants blamed chicken; chicken blamed seed; seed blamed deer;
deer blamed owl. "O Owl!" asked the hermit, "why didst thou frighten
the deer?" The owl replied, "I called but as I am accustomed to call;
the cricket, too, called." Having heard the evidence, the judge says,
"The cricket must replace the crushed parts of the fish and make it
well," as he, the cricket, called and frightened the deer. Since the
cricket is smaller and weaker than the owl or the deer, he had to
bear the penalty.
TALE 61
THE GREEDY CROW.
Narrated by Agapito O. Gaa, from Taal, Batangas. He heard the story
from an old Tagalog man who is now dead.
One day a crow found a piece of meat on the ground. He picked it
up and flew to the top of a tree. While he was sitting there eating
his meat, a kasaykasay (a small bird) passed by. She was carrying a
dead rat, and was flying very fast. The crow called to her, and said,
"Kasaykasay, where did you get that dead rat that you have?" But the
small bird did not answer: she flew on her way. When the crow saw
that she paid no attention to him, he was very angry; and he called
out, "Kasaykasay, Kasaykasay, stop and give me a piece of that rat,
or I will follow you and take the whole thing for myself!" Still the
small bird paid no attention to him. At last, full of greed and rage,
the crow determined to have the rat by any means. He left the meat he
was eating, and flew after the small creature. Although she was only
a little bird, the Kasaykasay could fly faster than the crow--so he
could not catch her.
While the crow was chasing the Kasaykasay, a hawk happened to pass
by the tree where the crow had left his meat. The hawk saw the meat,
and at once seized it in his claws and flew away.
Although the crow pursued the Kasaykasay a long time, he could not
overtake her: so at last he gave up his attempt, and flew back to
the tree where he had left his meat. But when he came to the spot,
and found that the meat was gone, he was almost ready to die of
disappointment and hunger. By and by the hawk which had taken the
meat passed the tree again. He called to the crow, and said to him,
"Mr. Crow, do you know that I am the one who took your meat? If not,
I will tell you now, and I am very sorry for you."
The crow did not answer the hawk, for he was so tired and weak that
he could hardly breathe.
The moral of this story is this: Do not be greedy. Be contented with
what you have, and do not wish for what you do not own.
Notes.
This fable appears to be distantly related to the European fable
of "The Dog and his Shadow." More closely connected, however,
is an apologue incorporated in a Buddhistic birth-story, the
"Culladhanuggaha-jataka," No. 374. In this Indian story,--
An unfaithful wife eloping with her lover arrives at the bank of a
stream. There the lover persuades her to strip herself, so that he
may carry her clothes across the stream, which he proceeds to do,
but never returns. Indra, seeing her plight, changes himself into
a jackal bearing a piece of meat, and goes down to the bank of the
stream. In its waters fish are disporting; and the Indra-jackal, laying
aside his meat, plunges in after one of them. A vulture hovering
near seizes hold of the meat and bears it aloft; and the jackal,
returning unsuccessful from his fishing, is taunted by the woman,
who had observed all this, in the first gatha:--
"O jackal so brown! most stupid are you;
No skill have you got, not knowledge, nor wit;
Your fish you have lost, your meat is all gone,
And now you sit grieving all poor and forlorn."
To which the Indra-jackal repeats the second gatha:--
"The faults of others are easy to see,
But hard indeed our own are to behold;
Thy husband thou hast lost, and lover eke,
And now, I ween, thou grievest o'er thy loss."
The same story is found in the "Pancatantra" (V, viii; see Benfey,
I : 468), whence it made its way into the "Tuti-nameh." It does not
appear to be known in the Occident in this form (it is lacking in the
"Kalilah and Dimnah").
Although the details of our story differ from those of the Indian
fable of "The Jackal and the Faithless Wife," the general outlines
of the two are near enough to justify us in supposing a rather close
connection between them. I know of no European analogues nearly so
close, and am inclined to consider "The Greedy Crow" a native Tagalog
tale. From the testimony of the narrator, it appears that the fable
is not a recent importation.
TALE 62
THE HUMMING-BIRD AND THE CARABAO.
Narrated by Eusebio Lopez, a Tagalog from the province of Cavite.
One hot April morning a carabao (water-buffalo) was resting under the
shade of a quinine-tree which grew near the mouth of a large river,
when a humming-bird alighted on one of the small branches above him.
"How do you do, Friend Carabao?" said the humming-bird.
"I'm very well, little Hum. Do you also feel the heat of this April
morning?" replied the carabao.
"Indeed, I do, Friend Carabao! and I am so thirsty, that I have come
down to drink."
"I wonder how much you can drink!" said the carabao jestingly. "You
are so small, that a drop ought to be more than enough to satisfy you."
"Yes, Friend Carabao?" answered little Hum as if surprised. "I bet
you that I can drink more than you can!"
"What, you drink more than I can, you little Hum!"
"Yes, let us try! You drink first, and we shall see."
So old carabao, ignorant of the trick that was being played on him,
walked to the bank of the river and began to drink. He drank and
drank and drank; but it so happened that the tide was rising, and,
no matter how much he swallowed, the water in the river kept getting
higher and higher. At last he could drink no more, and the humming-bird
began to tease him.
"Why, Friend Carabao, you have not drunk anything. It seems to me
that you have added more water to the river instead."
"You fool!" answered the carabao angrily, "can't you see that my
stomach is almost bursting?"
"Well, I don't know. I only know that you have added more water than
there was before. But it is now my turn to drink."
But the humming-bird only pretended to drink. He knew that the tide
would soon be going out, so he just put his bill in the water, and
waited until the tide did begin to ebb. The water of the river began to
fall also. The carabao noticed the change, but he could not comprehend
it. He was surprised, and agreed that he had been beaten. Little Hum
flew away, leaving poor old Carabao stupefied and hardly able to move,
because of the great quantity of water he had drunk.
Notes.
That this story was not imported from the Occident is pretty clearly
established by the existence in North Borneo of a tale almost identical
with it. The Borneo fable, which is told as a "just-so" story, and
is entitled "The Kandowei [rice-bird] and the Kerbau [carabao],"
may be found in Evans (pp. 423-424). It runs about as follows:--
The bird said to the buffalo, "If I were to drink the water of a
stream, I could drink it all."--"I also," said the buffalo, "could
finish it; for I am very big, while you are very small."--"Very well,"
said the bird, "tomorrow we will drink." In the morning, when the water
was coming down in flood, the bird told the buffalo to drink first. The
buffalo drank and drank; but the water only came down the faster,
and at length he was forced to stop. So the buffalo said to the bird,
"You can take my place and try, for I cannot finish." Now, the bird
waited till the flood had gone down; and when it had done so, he put
his beak into the water and pretended to drink. Then he waited till
all the water had run away out of the stream, and said to the buffalo,
"See, I have finished it!" And since the bird outwitted the buffalo
in this manner, the buffalo has become his slave, and the bird rides
on his back.
I know of no other Philippine versions, but I dare say that many
exist between Luzon and Mindanao.
TALE 63
THE CAMANCHILE AND THE PASSION.
Narrated by Fernando M. Maramag of Ilagan, Isabella province. He says
that this is an Ilocano story.
Once upon a time there grew in a forest a large camanchile-tree [107]
with spreading branches. Near this tree grew many other trees with
beautiful fragrant flowers that attracted travellers. The camanchile
had no fragrant flowers; but still its crown was beautifully shaped,
for the leaves received as much light as the leaves of the other
trees. But the beauty of the crown proved of no attraction to
travellers, and they passed the tree by.
One day Camanchile exclaimed aloud, "Oh, what a dreary life I lead! I
would that I had flowers like the others, so that travellers would
visit me often!" A vine by the name of Passion, which grew near by,
heard Camanchile's exclamation. Now, this vine grew fairly close
to the ground, and consequently received "only a small amount of
light. Thinking that this was its opportunity to improve its condition,
it said, "Camanchile, why is your life dreary?"
"Ah, Passion!" replied Camanchile, "just imagine that you were
unappreciated, as I am! Travellers never visit me, for I have no
flowers."
"Oh, that's easy!" said Passion. "Just let me climb on you, and I'll
display on your crown my beautiful flowers. Then many persons will
come to see you." Camanchile consented, and let Passion climb up on
him. After a few days Passion reached the top of the tree, and soon
covered the crown.
A few months later Camanchile realized that he was being smothered: he
could not get light, so he asked Passion to leave him. "O Passion! what
pain I am in! I can't get light. Your beauty is of no value. I am
being smothered: so leave me, I beg of you!"
Passion would not leave Camanchile, however, and so Camanchile died.
MORAL: Be yourself.
Note.
With this story compare the "Palasa-jataka," No. 370, which tells how a
Judas-tree was destroyed by the parasitic growth of a banyan-shoot. The
general idea is the same in both stories, though I hardly suspect that
ours is descended from the Indian. The situation of a tree choked to
death by a parasite is such a commonplace in everyday experience, that
a moral story based on it might arise spontaneously almost anywhere.
TALE 64
AUAC AND LAMIRAN.
Narrated by Anastacia Villegas of Arayat, Pampanga. She heard the story
from her father, and says that it is well known among the Pampangans.
Once Auac, a hawk, stole a salted fish which was hanging in the
sun to dry. He flew with it to a branch of a camanchile-tree,
where he sat down and began to eat. As he was eating, Lamiran,
a squirrel who had his house in a hole at the foot of the tree,
saw Auac. Lamiran looked up, and said, "What beautiful shiny black
feathers you have, Auac!" When he heard this praise, the hawk looked
very dignified. Nevertheless he was much pleased. He fluttered
his wings. "You are especially beautiful, Auac, when you walk; for
you are very graceful," continued the squirrel. Auac, who did not
understand the trick that was being played on him, hopped along the
branch with the air of a king. "I heard some one say yesterday that
your voice is so soft and sweet, that every one who listens to your
song is charmed. Please let me hear some of your notes, you handsome
Auac!" said the cunning Lamiran. Auac, feeling more proud and dignified
than ever, opened his mouth and sang, "Uac-uac-uac-uac!" As he uttered
his notes, the fish in his beak fell to the ground, and Lamiran got it.
A heron which was standing on the back of a water-buffalo near by saw
the affair. He said, "Auac, let me give you a piece of advice. Do
not always believe what others tell you, but think for yourself;
and remember that 'ill-gotten gains never prosper.'"
Notes.
This is the old story of the "Fox and Crow [and cheese]," the
bibliography for which is given by Jacobs (2 : 236). Jacobs sees a
connection between this fable and two Buddhistic apologues:--
(1) The "Jambu-khadaka-jataka," No. 294, in which we find a fox
(jackal) and a crow flattering each other. The crow is eating jambus,
when he is addressed thus by the jackal:--
"Who may this be, whose rich and pleasant notes
Proclaim him best of all the singing birds,
Warbling so sweetly on the jambu-branch,
Where like a peacock he sits firm and grand!"
The crow replies,--
"'Tis a well-bred young gentleman who knows
To speak of gentlemen in terms polite!
Good sir,--whose shape and glossy coat reveal
The tiger's offspring,--eat of these, I pray!"
Buddha, in the form of the genius of the jambu-tree, comments thus
on their conversation:--
"Too long, forsooth, I've borne the sight
Of these poor chatterers of lies,--
The refuse-eater and the offal-eater
Belauding each other."
(2) The "Anta-jataka," No. 295, in which the rôles are reversed, the
crow wheedling flesh from the jackal; here, too, the Buddha comments
as above.
Our Pampangan story is of particular interest because of the moralizing
of the heron at the end, making the form close to that of the two
Jatakas. Possibly our story goes back to some old Buddhistic fable
like these. The squirrel (or "wild-cat," as Bergafio's "Vocabulario,"
dated 1732, defines lamiran) is not a very happy substitution for the
original ground-animal, whatever that was; for the squirrel could reach
a fish hanging to dry almost as easily as a bird could. Besides,
squirrels are not carnivorous. Doubtless the older meaning of
"wild-cat" should be adopted for lamiran.