Filipino Popular Tales

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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-Polivka (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 Polivka (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.; Koehler-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 Fees, 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.