Filipino Popular Tales

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Notes.

There is a striking analogy between the opening of our story and that
of a Servian tale (Wuk, No. 5), where a Kaiser has three daughters
whom he rears in close confinement, but whom he permits one day, after
they have become of marriageable age, to dance the kolo. While they
are dancing, a storm blows up, and carries them all away. The rest of
the story is a variant of our No. 18, with which our present story,
too, has some points of contact.

For the magic articles secured by the hero from certain persons
quarrelling over them, and for the "Fee-fi-fo-fum" formula, see notes
to No. 18.

The hero's drinking a pail of magic water, and becoming so strong
that when he sits in an iron chair it breaks down under him, recalls
the similar feat of Strong Hans (Grimm, No. 166).

The three monsters of increasingly greater formidability--Seven-Heads,
Ten-Heads, Twelve-Heads--which are slain by the hero, who uses their
own Weapons on them, recall the underworld monsters killed by the
hero in the "Bear's Son" cycle (cf. our notes to No. 17).

Although the events of our story are located in the Philippines, the
Casiguran mentioned probably being the town in Tayabas on the west
toast of Luzon, the tale as a whole appears to have been imported. The
Sinucuan referred to is probably the famous legendary King of Pampanga,
of whom the Pampangans have a rich oral literature. He is said to
have lived on Mount Arayat. He figures in our No. 79 (b).

TALE 40

Juan and Maria.

Narrated by Anicio Pascual of Arayat, Pampanga, who says, "This story
is often told by Pampangan grandmothers to their grandchildren. I have
heard it many times. Lately it was told to me again by an old woman."

Once there lived in a barrio an old beggar couple. They had a son named
Juan, and a daughter Maria. The proceeds from their begging were hardly
enough to support the family. One day, after the old man had returned
home from town, he ordered his wife to cook the rice that had been
given him. The old woman obeyed him. When he saw that the rice was
not enough for him and his wife and children, he angrily said to her,
"From now on, don't let me see our children in this house. Chase them
as far as you can, and let them find their own food." The old mother
wept when she heard the words of her cruel husband. She did not want
to be separated from her children; but she feared that she would be
whipped if she kept them, so she obeyed the cruel order. At first
the poor children did not want to go away; but, when they saw that
their bad father was going to kick them, they ran off crying.

Soon the children came to a wild forest. "Maria, what will become of
us here?" said Juan. "I am very hungry," said the little girl. "I
don't think that I can get you any food in this wilderness," said
the kind brother, "but let me see!" He then looked around. By good
luck he found a guava-tree with one small fruit on it. He immediately
climbed up for the guava, and gave it to his hungry sister. Then the
two children resumed their journey.

As they were walking along, Maria found a hen's egg on the grass. She
picked it up and carried it along with her in her dirty ragged
skirt. At last they saw a very small hut roofed with dry talahib
(coarse, long grass). An old woman in the hut welcomed them, and asked
them where they were going. After Juan had told her their story, she
invited the tired children to stay in the hut with her. She promised
that she would treat them as her little son and daughter. From that
time on, Juan and Maria lived with the kind old woman. Juan grew to
be a strong fine man, and Maria became a beautiful young woman. Juan
spent almost all his time hunting in the mountains and woods.

One morning he caught a black deer. While he was taking the animal
home, the deer said to him, "Juan, as soon as you reach your home,
kill me, eat my flesh, and put my hide in your trunk. After three days
open your trunk, and you will see something astonishing." When Juan
reached home, he did as the deer had told him to do. On the third
day he found in the trunk golden armor. He was greatly delighted by
the precious gift.

Maria had not been living long with the old woman when she found
that the egg had hatched into a chick, which soon grew into a fine
fighting cock. One morning the cock crowed, "Tok-to-ko-kok! Take me
to the cockpit. I'll surely win!" Maria told the old woman what the
cock had said, and the next Sunday Juan took the fighting cock to the
cockpit. There the rooster was victorious, and won much money for Juan.

One day Juan heard that a tournament would be held in front of the
king's palace. The winner of the contest was to become the husband of
the princess, and would inherit the throne. Juan quickly put on his
golden armor, and hastened to the palace to try his skill. He defeated
all his opponents. The next day his bridal ceremony was celebrated,
and the crown was placed on his head. That very day he ascended the
throne to rule over the kingdom. Although Juan was now king, he was
not proud. He and the queen visited Maria to get her to live in the
palace; but the old woman would not allow her to go with her brother,
as she had no other companion in the hut.

One day a prince was lost in the forest. He happened to come across
the hut in which Maria was living. He fell in love with her, and
wanted to marry her. As the old woman offered no objections to the
proposal of the prince, the following day Maria became a queen, just
as her brother had become king. Although the parents of Juan and Maria
had been very cruel, yet the king and queen did not forget them. The
brother and sister visited their father and mother, whom they found in
the most wretched condition. When the father saw that his children had
become king and queen, he wept greatly for his former cruelty to them.

Notes.

A Tagalog folk-tale printed in the "Journal of American Folk-Lore" (20
: 306), "Tagalog Babes in the Woods," is related to our story. "There
the twins Juan and Maria are driven to the forest by their cruel
father. After days of wandering, Juan climbs a tree, and sees in the
distance a house. They approach it, and, having asked permission to
enter, are invited in; but there is no one to be seen in this magic
house, although food and drink and clothing are supplied the two
wanderers in abundance." The story is evidently incomplete. It is
based on a metrical romance, "The Life of the Brother and Sister,
Juan and Maria, in the Kingdom of Spain," of which I will give a
brief synopsis, since the chap-book version contains details which
are lacking in the fragment cited above.

This metrical romance is printed in both Tagalog and Pampangan. My
Tagalog copy, which contains 1836 lines, bears the date 1910, but is
clearly a reprint. The Pampangan text is slightly shorter, with 1812
lines. Retana (No. 4164) cites a Pampangan version some time between
the years 1860 and 1898, and a later reprint of 1902 (No. 4349). The
summary that follows is based on the Tagalog.

Juan and Maria.

During the reign of King Charles the Fifth there lived in Spain a
poor couple, Fernando and Juana. They had a son Juan, ten years old,
and a daughter Maria, but eight months in age. Fernando was very cruel
to his wife and children. He was also very selfish. During meal-times
he ate alone, without inviting the rest of his family to eat with him.

One day Fernando said to his wife, "You must send our two children
away. If my command is not executed, your life shall answer for your
disobedience." The broken-hearted mother summoned her children,
and with tears in her eyes told them of the cruel order of their
father. The children had to obey their father, for they feared him,
and so set off for the mountains. For many days they wandered around,
living on wild fruits, and sleeping under trees.

One day Juan was greatly surprised to hear Maria ask for some water
to drink, for she had never spoken before. They were far from any
stream, and Juan did not know what to do to satisfy his sister. At
last he climbed a tree to see whether there was any water near by,
and he saw in a valley not far off a beautiful house surrounded with
flowers. Juan quickly came down the tree, and the two children set
out for the house. When they reached it, they knocked at the door,
but no one answered. After knocking again in vain, the boy decided to
enter. He pushed open the door, and found himself in a golden salon,
luxuriously furnished with gold and silver chairs. On the silver wall
hung an image of the Immaculate Conception. The two children knelt down
in front of the image and prayed. Then they went to the dining-room,
where they found a golden table with exquisite dishes of all kinds.

Several years passed by. Under the care of the Virgin, Maria grew to
be a beautiful young woman. One day, as Maria was praying, the Virgin
spoke to her through the image. She said that the gallant prince of
Borgona would come to the mountains to hunt deer, and that he would
lose his way in the woods. He would come to their house to ask for
some water, and would fall in love with Maria. Everything turned out
as had been predicted. The gallant prince was so attracted by the
beauty and grace of Maria, that he could not help saying to her,
"I love you." With the consent of her guardian the Virgin, Maria
accepted the Prince of Borgona, and the day for their wedding was
set. The king, his son, and all the nobility of Borgona, set out for
the mountains to get Maria, and on their arrival were surprised at
the magnificence of her house. The bishop who was with the company
married the couple, and all the retinue went back to the capital.

When Juan now found himself left all alone in the house, he knelt
before the image and complained to the Virgin of his situation. The
Virgin said to him, "Don't worry! To-morrow mount the horse which
is in the stable, clothe yourself in iron, and go to the kingdom of
Moscobia to help the king drive the Moors away." Juan did so, and
upon his arrival in Moscobia he found thousands of Moors threatening
the king. With his sword he killed half the enemy: the rest were
routed. Because of his great services, the king married his daughter
to Juan, and the new couple were proclaimed king and queen.

Some time afterwards, Juan wrote to his sister, suggesting that they
visit their parents. The two couples, accompanied by many of the
nobles of their kingdoms, set out for Spain. Their cruel father was
astounded to see his children raised to such a lofty position, and
he begged their pardon for his former harsh treatment of them. They
forgave him, and then returned to their respective kingdoms, where
they lived peacefully for many years.

The connection between our folk-tale and the romance is not very
clear. In both we have the abandoned children, the discovery of the
house in the woods where the children are reared to manhood and
womanhood, and the marriage of Maria with a prince who loses his
way in the forest. In both Juan becomes a king, and in both the two
children seek again their cruel parents and forgive them. On the other
hand, there is much in the folk-tale that is lacking in the romance;
e.g., the incident of the egg that hatches into a fighting cock,
and the incident of the black deer with the miraculous hide. In the
folk-tale Juan becomes king because of his skill in a tournament;
in the romance, because, with the help of the Virgin, he defeats a
large Moorish army. In the one, the shelter in the woods is but a
thatch-roofed hut inhabited by a kindly old woman; in the other,
it is a magnificent house occupied by no one except the image of
the Virgin. The correspondences as well as the differences between
the two versions, neither of which appears to be new, suggest that
the source of the folk-tale and the romance is one and the same,
but that the folk-tale went its own way, the way of the people, and
thus acquired its more native appearance. That the common source was
some European story, can hardly be doubted, I think.

The opening of our story is not unlike that of the German "Haensel
und Gretel" (Grimm, No. 15). Bolte and Polivka (1 : 123) note that
various different Maerchen have this beginning "of children whom their
father, either because of bitter necessity or because he is forced
by their step-mother, takes to the woods and there abandons." One of
the most widespread cycles in which it occurs is "Hop o' my Thumb,"
a version of which is told among the Tagalogs. I will give this
Tagalog version here in the notes, by way of compromise, as it were:
for while the story is a bona fide Tagalog tale, in that it is told
in the dialect, it must have been received directly from Europe; and
it appears to have retained the form in which it was received, with
but few modifications. No other Oriental form whatsoever of this story
has been recorded (see Bolte-Polivka, 1 : 124-126). The Tagalog story
was narrated by Pacita Cordero of Pagsanjan, Laguna, and runs thus:--

Pitong.

Melanio and Petrona had seven sons. The father was a woodman. They
were so poor, that sometimes the whole family went without dinner. One
day Melanio said to his wife, "Petrona, our children are growing,
and I don't see how we shall be able to support them all. At present
they cannot help us earn a living, because they are too small. Don't
you think we should get along better without them?"--"Yes," answered
Petrona, "if we could only get rid of them some way!"--"Well,
to-morrow I will take them to the forest to gather fuel," said the
husband. "While they are busy, I will leave them on the pretext of
looking for better kinds of wood, and will hurry home. They will not
be able to get home, for they won't know the way."

The wife agreed to this cruel plan. But the youngest son overheard
the conversation, and told his brothers about it. At last Pitong
(seventh), for that was the name of the youngest, and he was the
wisest of all, made this suggestion: "Before we go to the forest
to-morrow, I will pick up white stones. I will carry them with me,
and as we go along I will drop them one by one. I'll walk behind, so
that father will not notice what I am doing. Then, if he leaves us,
we can easily follow the track of stones back home." While the six
brothers consented to the plan, their minds were troubled, for they
doubted the ability of so small a boy to save them.

The next day the children marched straight into the forest with their
father as if they were going on a picnic. Pitong dropped his stones
one by one. When they reached the woods, their father commanded them to
get together what sticks they could find. He left them there, promising
that he would meet them in a certain place; but really he hurried home
and told his wife. "We are now rid of a heavy burden," he said, and the
two were very happy. When the poor boys had finished their work, they
looked in vain for their father. Of course they could not find him;
but Pitong led the company, and they followed the track of stones. The
boys reached home safely, and the parents were route with astonishment.

The next morning Melanio took his sons out with him again. This
time all the boys took white stones with them, besides bread, which
they intended to eat if they should get hungry; but the part of the
forest to which they went was so far, that all the stones were used
up before they got there. Pitong did not eat his bread; he broke it
into pieces, and dropped them on the ground as they went along. They
now reached the nook where their father proposed to leave them. This
place was grown up with wild shrubs, so that there were plenty of
twigs to keep the boys busy. Melanio slipped away from them without
their noticing it. After the seven brothers had worked a long time,
they thought of returning home. But they could not find the track:
the pieces of bread had been eaten by the ants. They cried out,
"Father, father! where are you?" When they were so hungry and tired
that they could not shout any more, they sat down on the ground and
began to weep.

It began to grow dark. Pitong advised his brothers to pluck up courage,
and said to them, "Follow me." So they went on without taking any
particular course, and in about a half-hour they came to a tall
tree. Pitong climbed it to see if there was a road near by. When
he reached the top, he said, "Brothers, I see a lighted house from
here. Let us go look for the house! Maybe we can get something to
eat there."

When they came near the house, they saw that it was well lighted and
richly adorned, as if there were a banquet going on; only it was very
quiet. Pitong, followed by his brothers, knocked at the door. A woman
kindly admitted them, and the boys begged for some food. They told
her how they had been deserted by their selfish father. The woman
said to them, "I have a giant husband who is a great eater of human
beings. If he finds you here, you will surely be devoured; but I can
give you something to eat. I will hide you before he comes, and you
must remain perfectly still." The boys had hardly finished dinner
when a loud sound was heard from without. The woman said to them,
"Here comes my husband! Boys, follow me into that room! You all get
into this big trunk and stay here."

The door was suddenly flung open. As soon as the giant entered,
he said in a fierce voice, "I smell something human: somebody
must be here." He said this many times; and although the wife did
not want to show him the boys, she finally did so, for she feared
that she would be punished. She beckoned to them to come out of the
trunk. "Welcome, my young friends!" said the giant. "I am very glad
to have you here." Pitong gazed fearlessly at him, but the others
trembled with fright. "Give these boys some food, and prepare them
a comfortable bed," said the giant to his wife. "To-morrow early in
the morning they will all be killed."

These words increased the terror of the six older brothers. They could
not swallow a morsel more of food when the old woman set it before
them. Pitong, however, kept trying to think of a plan by which he could
save them all. Now, the room in which they were to sleep was also the
room of the giant's seven sons, who were about the same height as the
woodman's sons. But the giant's sons had on rich garments. At midnight
Pitong awoke his brothers. They quietly and carefully exchanged clothes
with the giant's sons, and then pretended to sleep. At four o'clock
in the morning the giant came in. He paused before the two beds,
but at last turned to the one his sons were in. When he felt their
rough clothes, he thought them the strangers, and with his axe he
cut off the heads of all seven. Then he went away and slept again.

Now Pitong and his six brothers stealthily hurried away into the
forest. When morning came, and the giant found that he had killed his
own children, he was enraged. He at once took his magic cane, and put
on his magic boots and cap. When the boys heard the giant coming after
them, they went down into a big hole they had dug. There they hid. But
the giant had a keen sense of smell, and he walked around and around,
looking for them. At last he became tired; he leaned against a tree
and fell asleep. Pitong peeped through a small opening from under
the ground. When he saw that the giant was asleep, he called out to
his brothers. They quickly stole the magic boot, cap, and cane of
the giant, and were soon carried home. Their parents were very much
surprised to see them back; but they welcomed their children when they
knew of the magic objects. By means of these the family became rich.

As for the giant, when he awoke, he was deprived of all his power. He
was so weak that he could not even get up from the ground, so he died
there in the woods.

TALE 41

The Enchanted Prince.

Narrated by Pedro D. L. Sorreta, a Bicol from Virac, Albay, who heard
the story from his grandfather.

Many years ago there lived a very rich king in a beautiful city near a
wild forest, the home of many wicked witches. The king had a gallant
son named Ucay, who fell in love with a beautiful young witch, the
daughter of the most bitter enemy of his father. When Ucay became old
enough to marry, his father requested him to select the most beautiful
lady in the city for his wife; but the prince would neither select one,
nor would he tell his father about his love for the witch. So the rich
king ordered his soldiers to bring to the palace all the beautiful
women that could be found in the kingdom. His order was soon obeyed,
but none of the girls suited the prince. So the king took the matter
of selection into his own hands; and, after choosing a very handsome
girl, he forced his son to marry her. Out of fear, Ucay consented to
do as his father bade him. But the beautiful young witch to whom he
had already pledged his love became angry with him for his timidity,
and so she resolved to change the city into a forest of beautiful
trees. Her fickle lover she transformed into a monkey, who should
live in the tallest tree, and who should not be able to recover his
human shape till five centuries had passed, when a charming girl
would live with him and love him more than anything else. Moreover,
she changed the king's subjects into other animals as she pleased. No
sooner had the marriage of the prince been proclaimed, then, than
the desire of the witch was accomplished, to the great surprise of
the neighboring cities.

Four centuries had already passed. The wonderful disappearance of
the city was already forgotten, and people from other places began
to build houses in the enchanted city. The monkey-prince was always
watching for an opportunity to catch a beautiful girl who should
break the spell that kept him in his miserable condition. Soon a
church was built near the foot of the tree in which he lived. He
had already succeeded in capturing two ladies, but they had died
of fear. After incalculable suffering and extraordinary patience,
the time for his recovery came at last.

One Sunday morning before the mass was over, a very beautiful girl, the
daughter of a poor man, came out of the church and sat at the foot of
the tree. She had been disappointed in her love with a rich man's son,
who had forsaken her in order to marry the daughter of a rich man. So
she wished to die. When the monkey-prince saw her sitting there alone,
he noiselessly went down, carefully took her by the right hand, and
carried her to the top of the tree. She would have died of fright, as
was the fate of the two former women, had she not seen in the monkey's
eyes a noble look that filled her with wonder and sympathy. As days
went by, she lived on delicious fruits which were entirely strange
to her; and her love for the poor creature grew greater and greater,
until at last she loved him more than anything else.

On the evening of the tenth day she was surprised to find herself
beside a gallant prince in a richly-decorated room. At first she
thought that she was dreaming; but when the prince woke up, kissed
her, and then told her the history of his life, she knew that it
was real. She was so astonished, that she exclaimed, "Ah, me! God
is wise!" The next morning she was crowned queen of her husband's
happy subjects, whom she had restored from the enchantment of the
wicked witch. Every one in the kingdom loved his new queen as long
as he lived.

Notes.

I know of no parallels to this interesting story, which appears to
be old native tradition. The hero transformed by enchantment into
a beast, and saved by the devotion of the human lover, suggests the
"Beauty and Beast" cycle (Macculloch, ch. IX; Crane, 7, 324 [notes 5
and 6]; Ralston, Tibetan Tales, p. XXXVII f.); only it is to be noted
that those stories are, after all, heroine tales, not hero tales, for
the interest in them is centred on the disenchantment brought about
by the maiden who comes to love the prince in his beast form. The
curse by a disappointed witch, and the prophecy that only after
five hundred years will the curse be removed, suggest in a way the
"Sleeping Beauty" cycle (Grimm, No. 50; and Bolte-Polivka's exhaustive
notes); only here, too, the resemblance is but vague. There is no magic
sleep in our story, but a Circe-like transformation of the prince and
all his subjects into animals, the city itself being changed into a
forest of trees. We have already met with stories in the Philippines
based on the idea of animal-marriages (e.g., Nos. 18, 19, 29);
but, even were it demonstrable that all those tales were imported,
it would not necessarily follow that the savage idea behind them,
too, was imported. Their adoption by the natives might indicate,
on the contrary, that the basic idea was already well known.

I might call attention to the fact that the number 500 and the
monkey-prince suggest vaguely Buddhistic lore.

TALE 42

The Prince's Dream.

Narrated by Gregorio Frondoso, a Bicol of Tigaon, Camarines. The
narrator says, "This story was told to me by my guardian while I was
in Nueva Caceres. He told it to me in the Bicol dialect, and said
that this must be a Bicol story."