Filipino Popular Tales

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This Greek story can hardly have any immediate relationship with
"Chonguita," though it does appear in its first half to be connected
with the 1833 Indian Maerchen given above. Our story, it will be
noticed, lacks the shooting of arrows, so characteristic of the
European forms; it mentions the monkey-kingdom to which the youngest
prince was directed by an old man, and where Chonguita is forced
on him; it represents the king as requiring his daughters-in-law to
perform difficult tasks because he wishes to find an excuse for putting
to death the animal-wife. Moreover, the three tasks themselves are
different, although the first two are reminiscent of some found in the
Occidental versions. For the third I know of no folk-tale parallel. On
the whole, I am prone to believe that our story was not imported from
Europe, but that it belongs to an Oriental branch of the family.

The disenchantment of the monkey-wife by hurling her in anger against
the wall is exactly like the disenchantment of the frog-prince in
Grimm, No. 1. This conceit is most unusual, and, it might be added,
unreasonable. Hence this identity of detail in two stories so far
removed in every other way is particularly striking. I know of no
further occurrences of the incident.

TALE 30

The Golden Lock.

Narrated by Vicente Hilario of Batangas, Batangas, who heard the
story from an old man (now deceased) from the barrio of Balayan.

Long ago there lived in a distant kingdom an influential noble named
Ludovico, who vastly increased his wealth by his marriage to a rich
heiress called Clotilde. During the first ten years of their union
she had never peeped out of her window or stirred out of her room:
she only walked to the door of her chamber to bid farewell to her
husband or to receive his parting kiss when he was off to attend
to his official business, and to meet him with a tender embrace
when he returned. Nobody else but Ludovico and her chaperon could
see or talk with her: to these two persons only did Clotilde reveal
her secrets and convey the thoughts of her spotless soul. She spent
her time in voluntary seclusion, not in the luxuries of the court
or the gaieties of society, but in embroidery, knitting, and in the
unnecessary embellishment of her extremely lovely person.

But an incident now happened that seriously threatened to destroy
the foundations of their blissful union, for there may be eddies and
counter-currents in the steady and swift flow of a stream. The king
invited all the nobles in the land to a sumptuous banquet to be given
in one of the principal frontier cities. Ludovico was among the first
persons to accept the king's invitation. When the luxurious repast
was over, the guests gathered in groups around small tables in the
adjoining grounds to while away the sultry hours and to discuss the
questions of the day. One of these groups was composed of Ludovico
and six other nobles, among whom was a bold, sharp-tongued rich youth
named Pio. The conversation touched on topics concerning the fair sex,
especially of women historically famous for their personal charms,
virtues, and vices. The garrulous Pio ridiculed the noble constancy
and other excellent traits of the fair Clotilde.

"I will bet you anything you want to bet, that you cannot learn the
secrets of my wife in fifteen days," said Ludovico, his face flushed
with wrath.

"All right," said Pio, exasperated by Ludovico's boast. "The loser
shall be hanged. I will bet my life that I'll know the secrets of
your wife within fifteen days."

The terms of the contract were carefully written down, solemnly
ratified by the king, and signed by the two contestants and by the
other high-born gentlemen.

Pio set out the next day for Ludovico's home town. The inexperienced
youth looked in vain for Ludovico's residence. Finally he asked
a jolly fellow, who showed him the house after a long roundabout
conversation. Pio went upstairs, where he saw the gray-haired chaperon
sitting alone in the spacious hall, which was decorated to vie in
magnificence with the most gorgeously furnished apartment of the
king. The accomplished Pio doffed his bonnet to the old woman, and
politely asked for her mistress.

"Nobody but her husband and me is allowed to see her," said the ugly
old hag.

Pio then sat down and began to talk to her. By his persuasive language
and the magnetic touch of his hands he easily insinuated himself into
her confidence. Then, dropping a piece of gold on her palm, he said,
"Will you tell me the secrets of your mistress?"

The old woman looked at him suspiciously, but the brilliant coin
proved too great a temptation for her. "Clotilde," she said, "has
three golden [88] locks of hair under her left armpit. I know this
fact, because I bathe her every day."

Pio heaved a deep groan and turned his face aside. After recovering
himself, he dropped another gold-piece into the hand of the chaperon,
and said, "Will you get one of those locks for me?"

She hesitated, but his eloquence was irresistible. "I'll give you
the lock to-morrow," she said. Pio then departed, and she returned
to her mistress.

Early the next morning, while the old woman was bathing Clotilde as
usual, she pulled out one of Clotilde's golden locks. "Aray!" exclaimed
Clotilde, "what's the matter with you?"

"Never mind, never mind!" said the old woman with many caresses. "This
is the only reward I want for my many faithful services to you."

Ignorant of the treasonable intrigues of her chaperon, Clotilde
said nothing more. Before noon Pio arrived. With trembling hands and
pale cheeks, the old woman gave him the golden lock. She was amply
rewarded with a purse of gold. Ignorant of the fatal consequences of
her treacherous act, she gayly went back to Clotilde's private chamber.

Pio left the town late in the afternoon, and soon arrived at the
capital. Ludovico was struck aghast at the sight of the golden lock. He
at once wrote a letter to his wife which ran in part as follows:--

"I have spent ten years of my life in perfect happiness with you. I
expected to enjoy such blissful days for a much longer period. But now
everything is hopeless. My life shall be ended by violence, because
of your faithlessness. We shall see each other no more. Receive the
sad farewell of your Ludovico."

When Clotilde read this letter, she swooned. When she came to her
senses, she awoke as from a trance. But when she beheld the letter
again, she read again the opprobrious word "faithlessness" in her
husband's handwriting. She did not know what act of disloyalty she had
committed. She moved about in her room by fits and starts. At last a
thought came to her mind: she sent for the best goldsmith in town, and
told him to make her a gold slipper adorned with precious stones. Under
her strict supervision the work was completed in a marvellously short
time. Then she put on her best clothes and the precious slipper,
and with all possible expedition set out for Ludovico.

Clotilde arrived in the city just a few minutes before the
execution. She drove directly to the king's pavilion. Her only
companion was the same old woman who had caused all this trouble. The
turbulent persons who had gathered in the public square to witness
the horrible spectacle were awed by the loveliness and magnificent
attire of Clotilde. When she reached the king, and asked him for all
the details concerning Ludovico's case, and when the king had given
her all the information he could, she turned and pointed toward Pio,
and said, "That man has stolen my other slipper which looks like this
one I am wearing."

The king called Pio from the place where he was standing, and told
him all about the fair lady's accusation. "I have not committed any
crime against her," said Pio angrily. "I don't even know her. This
is the first time I have ever seen her."

"Sir," said Clotilde sneeringly, "why, then, did you tell his Majesty
and other persons that you have discovered my secrets? I am the wife
of Ludovico, whose life you have threatened to end by your deceit. I
know now by what means you got possession of my golden lock."

Clotilde's statement sealed Pio's fate. He was hanged in place of
Ludovico, who deeply regretted having doubted his faithful wife. And
what happened to the old woman, who preferred the gold of an impostor
to the kindness of a virtuous woman? The hag was sentenced to spend
the remainder of her life in a damp, dreary dungeon.

Notes.

A close Tagalog parallel is to be found in the last part of the
metrical romance entitled (in English translation) "The Life of Duke
Almanzor and the Kind and Clever Maria, in the Kingdom of Toledo when
it was under the Moors." My copy bears no date, but Retana mentions
an edition before 1898 (No. 4159). The poem is in 402 quatrains of
12-syllable lines. The section which resembles our story begins at
line 1260, and may be paraphrased in prose as follows:--

Soon after this, Almanzor was baptized (he had been a Moor), and was
married to Maria. After a few months of happy life, the duke was called
away to Cordova on important business. When Duke Almanzor arrived at
the court of the Governor of Cordova, he found that all the noblemen
were present. As he arrived somewhat late, he excused himself by saying
that he was newly married, and that he could not leave his wife any
sooner. Among the nobles was a proud, self-confident man named Abdala,
who, when Almanzor had finished speaking, remarked that he (Abdala)
did not mean to marry, as he could very easily seduce any woman,
be she unmarried or a wife. Almanzor was angered by this remark. He
said to Abdala, "I have my wife in Toledo: go and see if you can
seduce her." Abdala said that there was no doubt of his being able
to do so. A wager of death for the loser was agreed upon.

Abdala immediately set out for Toledo. He tried to gain access
to the duke's palace; but ever since her husband's departure,
Maria had ordered the servants to keep all the windows and
doors closed. Moreover, nobody but women were allowed to enter
the palace. Abdala was about to give up in despair, when he met a
sorceress, who offered to help him. This witch gained admittance into
the palace, and was allowed to pass the night there. At midnight
the hag secretly went to Maria's bedroom and jotted down a brief
description of it. Then she cut off a lock of Maria's hair. The next
morning the witch left the palace. She went to Abdala, and gave him
the lock of hair, together with the description of the bedroom.

Abdala hurriedly returned to Cordova. When he reached the palace,
the governor at once assembled the nobles. Abdala then showed the
lock of hair, and described minutely Maria's bedroom. Almanzor was
asked what he had to say. The noble duke said that he acknowledged to
be true everything that Abdala had said. Then the governor ordered
his guards to take the duke to prison. The duke was to be beheaded
on the third day. While in prison, Duke Almanzor wrote to his wife,
telling her of his coming death. Maria resolved at once to save her
husband. She went to Cordova, carrying with her all her wealth. She
had a famous jeweller make for her a large, beautiful ear-ring.

The third day came, and the soldiers took Duke Almanzor out of
prison. The governor and all the nobles accompanied the duke to the
plaza where he was to be executed. Maria stopped the procession, and
addressed the governor thus: "My lord, do you see this ear-ring?" The
governor nodded. "Then I ask you to give me justice. My other
ear-ring was stolen by that gentleman who is standing near you," and
she pointed at Abdala as she made the accusation. Abdala became very
angry. He said, "I don't know you; I have never seen you before. How
could I steal your ear-ring?"--"Do you say that you have never seen me
before?" Maria asked. "I do say so," said Abdala emphatically. "Why,
then, do you claim that you have been in my room, and that I gave you
a lock of my hair?" Maria demanded. Abdala could not answer. "Answer,
Abdala," the governor said, But Abdala could not utter a single
word. At last he confessed that he had never seen Maria, and that
the description of the room and the lock of hair had been furnished
him by a sorceress. The governor then ordered him to be seized. Duke
Almanzor was set free. His wife gently reprimanded him for risking his
life so foolishly. As for Abdala, he was beheaded, and the sorceress
who helped him was burned at the stake.

In our notes to No. 7 we have already summarized the first part of the
"Story of Rodolfo." The last episode of this romance is an analogue
of our present story, and runs briefly thus:--

After his marriage, Rodolfo went back to Valencia, and informed the
king that he had found a virtuous woman and had married her. She
was then in Babilonia. The king detained him for a few days in
the palace. At the same time he sent Fortunato, a gallant, to
court Rodolfo's wife, to test whether or not she was true to her
husband. Fortunato went to Babilonia and declared his love to Estela;
but she would have nothing to do with him. Ashamed to return to the
palace without having won her affection, Fortunato stole her underskirt
and took it to the king, stating that Estela had given it to him as
a remembrance. Rodolfo was summoned: and when he saw the skirt with
Adela's name on it, he was thunderstruck. The king then said, "You see,
your wife is no more virtuous than my daughter Leocadia. Remember
your boast; your life is forfeit." Rodolfo, however, asked for a
complete investigation of his wife's alleged treachery. Estela was
accordingly summoned to Valencia; and when asked how her underskirt
happened to be there in the palace, she asked in turn who had brought
it. "Fortunato," she was told. Then she said, "The underskirt is
mine. The knight Fortunato declared his love to me, but I rejected
it because I am married. He stole the underskirt while I was taking
a bath, and ought to be punished." When confronted with the charge,
Fortunato denied the theft, and maintained that he had been given the
garment by Estela as a token of her love for him. When Rodolfo heard
this denial, he begged the king to assemble all the dignitaries and
judges in the kingdom. Before the court Rodolfo asked Fortunato for
definite proof to back up his assertions. He was unable to give any,
and was consequently sentenced to be deported for ten years to a
lonely island. Rodolfo and his wife were now honored by the king,
and Rodolfo was finally made a knight.

Although this portion of the romance is only a distant analogue
of out story, inasmuch as it lacks both the wager and the clever
trick of the wife to get her maligner to convict himself, I give it,
because this same combination of the "chastity-wager" motive with the
"hen-divided" motive (see first part of "Rodolfo," notes to No. 7)
occurs in a Mentonese story, "La Femme Avisee" (Romania, II : 415-416).
The tale may be briefly summarized:--

A prince benighted in a forest is entertained for the night at a
countryman's house. At dinner the prince carves the fowl, and gives the
head to the father, the stomach to the mother, and the heart to the
daughter. On the old man's complaining later of his guest's strange
division of the bird, the girl explains to her father just why the
prince acted as he did. The prince overhears her, admires her wit,
falls in love with her, and marries her. Some time afterward the
prince is called to Egypt on business. He leaves his wife behind at
home, and she promises to be very discreet. The prince communicates
her promise to a friend, who wagers that he will be able to tell the
prince of any defects on her body. The friend goes to the home of
the prince and bribes the lady-in-waiting. She informs him, that,
beautiful as the young wife is, she has a strawberry-mark on her
shoulder. When the prince, on his return, is told this intimate detail
by his friend, he is very angry, and, going home, accuses his wife of
faithlessness. She proves her innocence by going before the king and
swearing that her maligner has stolen one of her golden slippers. He
denies the charge, and swears that he has never seen his accuser
before. Thus self-convicted, he is imprisoned for many years.

The Mentonese folk-tale and "Rodolfo" emphasize not only the virtue
of the wife, but her cleverness as well, and definitely connect the
"Chastity Wager" cycle with our No. 7. While it would be difficult
to maintain successfully that the "Chastity Wager" cycle and the
"Clever Lass" group are descended from the same parent,--I really
believe the latter to be much the older,--it seems that we have a sort
of combination of the two as early as the time of the "Tuti-nameh"
collection. In the following story taken from that compilation,
traces of both cycles may be discerned, though clearly the tale is
more nearly related as a whole to the "Chastity Wager" group. This
Persian story is entitled "The Nobleman and the Soldier's Wife, whose
Virtue he put to the Proof" (No. 4, pp. 42 ff., of "The Tootinameh;
or, Tales of a Parrot" in the Persian Language, with an English
Translation; Calcutta, 1792). An abridged version of it follows:--

In a certain city dwelt a military man who had a very beautiful
wife. He was always under apprehension on her account; and one
day, after he had been idle a long time, she asked him why he had
quitted his profession. He answered, "I have no confidence in you,
and therefore I do not go anywhere in quest of employment." The wife
told him that he was perverse; for no one could seduce a virtuous
woman, and a vicious woman no husband could guard successfully. Then
she told him a story to illustrate the second type of wife. When
he asked if she had anything more to say to him, she replied,
"It is right for you to travel and seek service. I will give you
a fresh nosegay: as long as the nosegay continues in this stare,
you may be assured that I have not committed any bad action; if the
nosegay should wither, you will then know that I have been guilty of
some fault." The soldier heeded her words, and set out on a journey,
taking the nosegay with him. When he arrived at a certain city,
he entered the service of a nobleman of that place. Winter came on,
and the nobleman was astonished to see the soldier wearing a fresh
nosegay every day, though flowers were practically unattainable,
and he asked him about it. The soldier told him that his wife had
given the nosegay to him as an emblem of her chastity; that as long
as it continued fresh, he was sure that her honor was unspotted.

Now, the nobleman had two cooks remarkable for their cunning and
adroitness. To one of these he said, "Repair to the soldier's country,
where, through artifice and deceit, contrive to form an intimacy with
his wife, and return quickly with a particular account of her. Then
we shall see whether this nosegay continues fresh or not." The cook,
in accordance with his master's command, went to the soldier's city,
and sent a procuress to the wife with his message. The wife did not
assent directly, but told the procuress to send the man to her, so
that she might see whether he was agreeable or not. The wife made a
secret assignation with the cook, but trapped him in a dry well; and
when he found that he could not get out, he confessed the nobleman's
plot. When the cook did not return, the nobleman sent the second cook;
but he fared no better: he too was captured in the same way by the
clever wife. Now the nobleman resolved to go himself. He set out
under the pretext of hunting, accompanied by the soldier. When they
arrived at the soldier's city, the soldier went to his own home and
presented the fresh nosegay to his wife, who told him all that had
happened. So the next day the soldier conducted the nobleman to his
home, where a hospitable entertainment was given him. The two cooks,
under promise of subsequent liberty, consented to dress as women and
wait on the guests. When the nobleman saw them, he failed to recognize
them, for their long confinement and bad air had made them thin and
pale. He asked the soldier about the "girls," but the soldier told
the cooks to tell their own story. Then the nobleman recognized them;
and when they testified to the woman's chastity, he was abashed,
and asked forgiveness for his offences.

Another Oriental form of this story is given by Somadeva, chapter
XIII (Tawney, 1 : 85 f.), "The Story of Devasmita." It runs in part
as follows:--

Here, on the departure of the husband, the divinity Siva says to the
couple, "Take each of you one of these red lotuses; and, if either
of you shall be unfaithful during your separation, the lotus in the
hand of the other shall fade, but not otherwise." Then the husband
set out for another city, where he began to buy and sell jewels. Four
merchants of that country, astonished at the never-fading lotus in
his hand, wormed the secret out of the husband by making him drunk,
and then planned the seduction of the wife out of mere curiosity. To
aid them in their plan, they had recourse to a female ascetic. She
went to the wife, and attempted to move her to pity by showing her a
weeping bitch, which she said was once a woman, but was transformed
into a dog because of her hard-heartedness [for this device worked
with better success; see Gesta Romanorum, chap. XXVIII]. The wife
divined the plot and the motive of the young merchants, and appeared
to be glad to receive them; but when they came at appointed times,
she drugged them, and branded them on the forehead with an iron dog's
foot. Then she cast them out naked in a dung-heap. The procuress was
later served even worse: her hose and ears were cut off. The young
wife, fearing that for revenge the four merchants might go slay her
husband, told her whole story to her mother-in-law. The mother-in-law
praised her for her conduct, and devised a plan to save her son. The
wise wife disguised herself as a merchant, and embarked in a ship to
the country where her husband was. When she arrived there, she saw
him in the midst of a circle of merchants. He, seeing her afar off
in the dress of a man, thought to himself, "Who may this merchant be
that looks so like my beloved wife?" But she went to the king, said
that she had a petition to present, and asked him to assemble all his
subjects. He did so, and asked her what her petition was. She replied,
"There are residing here four escaped slaves of mine; let the king
give them back to me." She was told to pick out her slaves, which she
did, choosing the four merchants who had their heads tied up. When
asked how these distinguished merchants' sons could be her slaves, she
said, "Examine their foreheads, which I marked with a dog's foot." So
done. The truth came out; the other merchants paid the wife a large sum
of money to ransom the four, and also a fine to the king's treasury.

There can be no doubt of a rather close relationship between the
Persian and the Indian stories; nor can there be any doubt, it seems
to me, of the relationship of these two with the "Chastity Wager"
cycle. The additional details in Somadeva's narrative connect it with
European Maerchen; e.g., J. F. Campbell, No. 18, and Groome, No. 33.

Our story of the "Golden Lock," as well as the variants, is
unquestionably an importation from Europe; but what the immediate
source of the tale is, I am unable to say. For the convenience of
any, however, who are interested in this group of stories, and care
to make a further study of it, I give here a list of the occurrences
of the tale in literature and in popular form. In literature, this
story in Europe dates from the end of the twelfth century.

Roman de Guillaume de Dole (c. 1200). Ed. by G. Servois for the
Soc. des Anc. Textes francais. Paris, 1893.
Roman de la Violette (13th century). Ed. by Michel. 1834.
Roman du Comte de Poitiers (13th century). Ed. by Michel. 1831.
Le roi Flore et la belle Jehanne (a 13th century prose
story). Published by L. Moland et C. d'Hericault in Nouvelles
francaises en prose du xiiie siecle, 1856 : 87-157; also in Monmerque
et Michel, Theatre francais au Moyen Age, 1842 : 417.
Miracle de Othon, roy d'Espaigne (a 14th century miracle), in the
Miracles de Nostre Dame. Published by G. Paris and U. Robert for the
Soc. des Anc. Textes francais, 4 : 315-388; and in Monmerque et Michel,
op. cit., p. 431 f.
Perceforest, bk. iv, ch. 16, 17 (an episode, where the chastity
token is a rose), retold by Bandello, part I, nov. 21 (cf. R. Koehler,
in Jahrb. fuer rom. u. eng. lit., 8 : 51 f.).
Boccaccio's Decameron, 2 : 9 (cf. Landau, Die Quellen des Dekameron,
1884 : 135 ff.).

Two important treatments of the story in dramatic form are
sixteenth-century Spanish, Lope de Rueda's "Eufemia," where the heroine
tricks her maligner by accusing him of having spent many nights with
her and of finally having stolen a jewel from under her bed; he denies
all knowledge of her (cf. J. L. Klein, Geschichte des Dramas, 9 [1872]
: 144-156); and English, Shakespeare's "Cymbeline." For modern dramas
and operas dealing with this theme, see G. Servois, op. cit., p. xvi,
note 5. In ballad form the story occurs in "The Twa Knights" (Child,
5 : 21 ff., No. 268).