Chapter 4
"JUST-SO" STORIES.
TALE 65
WHY THE ANT IS NOT SO VENOMOUS AS THE SNAKE.
Narrated by Francisco M. Africa of Lipa, Batangas. This is a Tagalog story.
God first created the earth. Then he took a rock from the earth and threw it on the terrestrial surface. When the rock was broken into many small pieces, he breathed into them the breath of life, and they became living creatures. At first these creatures, though differing in shapes and sizes, were not given different powers.
Among these creatures of God's were the snake and the ant. One day the snake went to God to ask for power. It said, "I come to thee, O God! to ask for thy favor. The world thou hast just created is wild with confusion. I have come to ask thee to give me the special power to kill all those that are rebellious and troublesome."
"Go back to your fellow-creatures!" answered God. "Hereafter you are endowed with the power to store in your teeth this poison. When you bite the vile and contemptible, inject into the wound some of this poison, and they will be killed; but first of all, observe their actions, and be conscientious and thoughtful." Then God gave the snake the poison. The snake returned to the earth in great joy.
When the ant heard that the snake was endowed with such power, it at once went to God to ask that the same privilege be granted it. The ant found God on his heavenly throne, instructing his host of angels. The ant approached God, and addressed him thus: "O thou almighty God! my brother the snake has been granted a great privilege by thee. Why art thou so unkind to me? Give me the same power, and I will be of great aid to the snake in destroying sinners." God, thinking that the snake might need an assistant, gave the ant the same privilege that he had given the snake.
The ant was so greatly overjoyed, that it ran as fast as it could to the earth. When God saw it running, he called to the ant, but it paid no attention to him. Then God, being very much enraged, took away some of the ant's power, lest the ant might use it unreasonably. And so to-day the ant's bite is not so poisonous as the snake's.
Notes.
Another form of this story, recorded by Andrea Silva, also of Lipa, Batangas, runs as follows:--
In the olden times, when this great universe was still young, the inhabitants of this Archipelago had a sacred belief in a superior god whom they called Bathala. He was the creator of all things.
One day Bathala called the animals one by one, and bestowed upon each a gift, or the power of doing something. To the bird he gave the power to fly. Next Bathala called the ant, likewise intending to bestow on it more power than on any other animals, because it was so very small; but the ant was the most stupid and lazy of all creatures. It did not pay any attention to the summons of the god, but pretended to be deaf. Whereupon Bathala became so angry that he called the snake and gave to it the wonderful power that he had intended to give the ant. "You, Sir Snake, shall seldom be caught by any person, for you shall have the power of being very nimble. Besides, every one shall be afraid of you."
When finally the ant appeared before the god, asking him for the gift he had promised, Bathala said, "O you poor, tiny, imprudent creature! Since you disobeyed your god, from now on you and your tribe shall meet with death very often, for you shall be pinched by those whom you bite."
And so it is to-day that we pinch to death the ants whenever they bite us.
The narrator testified that she heard the story from an old woman in her town of Lipa. So far as I know, this "just-so" fable of "The Ant and the Snake and God" has not been recorded outside of Lipa, Batangas; and I am inclined to believe that it represents old local tradition.
TALE 66
WHY LOCUSTS ARE HARMFUL.
Narrated by Francisco M. Africa.
During the dawn of humanity, some angels headed by Satanas revolted against God. They wanted to establish a kingdom for themselves. In a battle against the army of God, in which God himself was present, Satanas threw a handful of sand into God's face; but the heavenly monarch just laughed, and said, "I turn the sand back to thee. The particles shall become the scourge of all ages to thee and to thy followers, O Satanas!"
No sooner had God uttered these words than the particles of sand became a mighty swarm of locusts, that flew in all directions. Such was the beginning of the pest.
Notes.
A tribal Bicol-story narrated by Maximina Navarro of Albay runs thus:--
The Origin of Locusts.
Many years ago there lived a head man whose home was situated in a very fertile valley, all the inhabitants of which he governed. He was not a good ruler, however; for he was so greedy, that he wanted to hoard up all the rice produced by his people. Every year, therefore, he squeezed from his subjects as much rice as he could get, so that at the end of four years his granaries were full to bursting. It happened that in the fifth year the crop failed, and the people knew that they should starve unless their ruler would let them have rice from his barns. At first they were afraid to go petition the head man, for they feared that he would refuse them; but, when nearly one-half of the children had died from starvation, they agreed to send some representatives to beg for rice.
Seven men were chosen to be the ambassadors. When they reached the house of the datu, for so they called their ruler, they asked for admittance, crying that they wanted rice for their wives and children. When the datu heard their cry, he went to the door and made a motion as if he would knock the petitioners off the ladder leading to the house. He lost his balance and fell, striking his head sharply on the bottom of the ladder. Thinking that he was dead, the seven men made no attempt to help him, but went home, proclaiming that soon there would be rice enough for all.
But the datu was not dead, only badly stunned. The next morning, as he was walking around his granaries, they exploded with a loud noise; and all the rice flew away in the form of insects, and vanished from his sight. This kind of insect which originated from the rice we call doron (from the Spanish word duro), on account of the toughness of its skin.
A more intelligible version of this story is the following related by Felix de la Llana, who was told it by an old farmer of Candelaria, Zambales. It appears to represent old Pagan tradition modified somewhat by Christianity.
The Origin of Locusts.
When all the surface of the earth was yet a wilderness and the people were very few, there lived a farmer who wished to become rich all at once. So he told his wife to pray to Kayamanan, the goddess of riches, to give them fortune.
One night the goddess with arms extended appeared to them in a dream, and advised the ambitious farmer to build six large barns. Then she went to the goddess of plenty, Kainomayan, and asked her to give this farmer abundant crops. When the farmer harvested his rice the next season, he was astounded to find that the crop more than filled his six barns. So delighted was he, and so greedy, that he and his wife thought no more of the source of their good fortune, and they neglected to celebrate a feast in honor of God and his goddesses. He felt like a powerful monarch, and did not wish to work any more. However, his riches did not last long, as we shall see.
One day the goddess Kayamanan disguised herself, and in the form of a beggar came to the house of the rich farmer. She begged him to let her rest for a little while under his roof, for she had been travelling in many countries, she said. When she asked for some remnants of rice to eat, the ungrateful farmer said to her, "Get off my grounds! don't come here to bother me! If you don't leave at once, I shall let this dog loose, and you will be its food." The poor beggar went away without a word, but she begged almighty God to give her the power to change anything to any form or creature she wished. As she was God's favorite, her request was granted. So she assumed her own form, and went again to the farmer's house. To him she said, "You who became rich by my aid, and have denied food and shelter to a beggar, shall be punished. Since you have neglected your duty both to the poor and to me, I therefore, with the consent of the almighty God, punish you thus: your rice shall turn to a swarm of locusts, which will destroy all the crops of the farmers of your own race and those of other countries."
The punishment was carried out, and the farmer was left destitute.
This story is also known in the Tagalog province of Batangas.
In a Rumanian saga (Dähnhardt, 3 : 250) a swarm of locusts is sent by God to punish an emperor who would not invite any priests or nuns to his wedding-banquet. When the guests were about to eat the feast prepared, the insects appeared and devoured everything. Since that time locusts have appeared whenever mankind has forgotten God.
TALE 67
HOW LANSONES BECAME EDIBLE.
Narrated by Francisco M. Africa.
Once upon a time the fruit of the lansone-tree was very poisonous. Its very juice could make a man sick with leprosy. One day a very religious old man was passing through a forest to attend the fiesta of the neighboring town. When he reached the middle of the thick wood, he became very hungry and tired, and he felt that he could go no farther. No matter where he looked, he could see nothing but the poisonous lansone-trees. So he lay down on the soft grass. Hardly a moment had passed, when a winged being from heaven approached him, and said, "My good Christian pilgrim, take some of these lansone-fruits, eat them, and you will be much relieved." At first the old man would not do it, but the angel picked some of the fruits and handed them to the pilgrim. He then ate, and soon his hunger was removed. After thanking Heaven, he continued on his journey. Ever since this time, lansones have been good to eat. All the fruits still bear the marks of the angel's fingers.
Notes.
The lanson (Lansium domesticum) is a small tree of Malaysia, extensively cultivated for its fruit, which resembles a yellow plum (from E. Ind. lansa). It is not native to the Philippines, and was probably introduced into the Islands by the Malays in prehistoric times. Our story, which I think we must consider not imported, is based on a fancied etymological connection between lanson and lason (Tag. for "poison"), and does not appear to be known except to the Tagalogs of La Laguna province, although in Pampango also the word lason means "poison." Lason itself is derived from the Malay rachun, perhaps through the Sulu lachun.
Two other Tagalog versions, both from Laguna province, also show the influence of Christianity, but vary enough from our story to be worthy of record here. One, related by Manuel Gallego of San Antonio, Nueva Ecija, is entitled "The Adam and Eve of the Tagalogs." Mr. Gallego heard the story from a farmer living in Lubang, La Laguna. It runs as follows:--
Many hundreds of years ago, when Luzon was still uninhabited, Bathala, our supreme god, was envious of Laon, the god of the Visayans, because Laon had many subjects, while Bathala's kingdom was a barren desert. It was within the power of Bathala to create human beings, but not food for them; and so he asked for advice from Diwata, the supreme god of the universe.
Diwata told Bathala that the next day he would send an angel to earth with seeds to be planted. The promise was fulfilled, and Bathala scattered the seeds all over Luzon. Within a short time the island was covered with trees and shrubs, and was then ready for human habitation. Accordingly Bathala created Adam and Eve, the ancestors of the Tagalogs. In spite of the fact that they were forbidden to eat the green fruit of a certain plant, they disobeyed and ate it; so, as a punishment, they were poisoned and made very sick. They did not die, however. As a result of their experience, they gave the name lason ("poison") to this plant. Conscious of their fault, Adam and Eve implored forgiveness of Diwata. By order of Diwata, Bathala forgave the criminals; but the lason still remained poisonous. In order to rid it of its dangerous properties, an angel was sent to earth. He put the marks of his finger-nails on the surface of the pulp of each lason-seed, and these marks may be seen to this day. Afterwards the name of the plant was changed from lason to lanzon, the name by which it has been known ever since.
In the other Tagalog version, narrated by Eulogio Benitez of Pagsanjan, La Laguna, the incident of the finger-prints is told as a local saint-legend of Paete. The story is entitled "How Lanzones became Edible."
The little town of Paete, on the southern and western shore of Laguna de Bay, produces more lanzones than any other town in the province. Steamers call daily at her wharves for the fruits which have made her famous. In the church of this town may still be seen the image of the mother of God, the Virgin Mary, leading her child.
One evening a long time ago it was discovered that the beautiful image was missing from its accustomed place in the church. The news spread like wildfire, and all the people were in great amazement and consternation. While all was confusion in the town, a heavenly sight was being presented in a little place outside the municipality. A beautiful woman dressed in white was walking over the grass with a child in her arms. They were going towards a lanzon-tree on the other side of the meadow. The boy, who was evidently tired of being carried, asked to be put down. When the child saw the fruits scattered all over the ground, he felt very thirsty, and, picking up one of the tempting fruits, began to open it. The mother told her son that the fruit was poisonous; but the child said that he was very thirsty, and could go no farther if he did not have a drink. Then the mother took the fruit from his hands, and with her delicate white fingers pinched the pulp gently. Turning to her son, she said, "Now you may take this and eat it. You will find it the most delicious and refreshing of all fruits." The child obeyed, and the fruit was indeed sweet.
This is the way by which the lanzones were transformed from a poisonous, dangerous fruit to a sweet, delicate food. If any one discredits this story, all he needs to do to prove its truth is to open up any lanzon he finds, and he will see without fall the finger-prints of the Virgin.
TALE 68
WHY COCKS FIGHT ONE ANOTHER.
Narrated by Francisco M. Africa.
Once upon a time in an unknown country there lived a royal couple endowed with almost all the blessings of God. Their palace was decorated with all kinds of precious stones, diamonds, sapphires, and emeralds. They were often honored with visits from the celestial beings. There was hardly an hour of the day when some sort of jubilation or festival was not being held in the royal home. But, in spite of all his riches, there was a melancholy in the mind of the king,--a brooding, a cankering thought, that would not give him an hour of rest or contentment. In spite of all the favors lavished on him by God, he felt miserable and uneasy. He had a happy and wealthy kingdom, but--he had no heir. There was nobody to manage the government after his death. Whenever the thought of death came to his mind, he fell on his knees and implored the Almighty to give him a son: "Have mercy on me, O God! Give me a son to manage my kingdom after I am gone!"
One evening an angel from Paradise came to visit him, and, on finding the king at his prayers, said, "Dry thy tears, O king! Thy royal prayer is heard in heaven. Thou shalt be given more than a son, but not in the same shape as thou art. Thy sons shall see the light of day crowned with their own flesh." The king was so greatly overjoyed, that he could not speak a single word of gratitude in reply.
Not long afterward the queen gave birth to a cock that crowed on seeing the light of day. The couple were very glad: night and day they caressed the royal babe, and they would have made for him a cage of gold had not God forbidden them to do so. Every year a cock was born into the royal family, until the feathered sons numbered thirteen. But these sons were jealous of one another: each thought that the others had no right to wear crowns.
At last the old king and queen died, and no one was left to manage the royal demesne but the dumb sons. Thereafter the feathered orphans began fighting one another, each one trying to wrest the crown from the others.
Note.
I know of no variant of this story.
TALE 69
WHY BATS FLY AT NIGHT.
Narrator, Francisco M. Africa.
Many years ago the earth was inhabited by only one man. His body was composed of minute organisms that were incessantly warring against one another. One day this man became so weak that he could not obtain food for his support. He laid himself down on some soft moss by the bank of a river, and there he remained till night.
The organisms that lived in his body began to fight against one another most fiercely. Each ate his fellow until he became very big. At last the man died, and only one organism remained alive. This organism then flew away, and became the ancestor of the bats. The light of day so dazzled his eyes, that he could not fly very far, so he decided to fly only at night. And ever since, his descendants, too, have hidden themselves in the day-time, and come out only when it is dark.
Note.
This somewhat unsatisfactory pourquoi story appears to represent at bottom a very ancient tradition. I know of no parallels; but tales explaining why the bat flies at night are found among many peoples (e.g., Dähnhardt, 3 : 94, 267, 270; Dayrell, Nos. VII, XII).
TALE 70
WHY THE SUN SHINES MORE BRIGHTLY THAN THE MOON.
A Tagalog story narrated by Francisco M. Africa.
Long, long ago there lived a fairy with two very beautiful daughters. Araw, the elder daughter, was very amiable, and had a kindly disposition; but Buwan, unlike her sister, was disobedient, cruel, and harsh. She was always finding fault with Araw. One night, when the fairy came home from her nocturnal rambles and saw Buwan badly mistreating her elder sister, she asked God for help against her unruly daughter.
Before this time God had prepared very valuable gifts for the two sisters. These gifts were two enormous diamonds that could light the whole universe. When God heard the prayer of the fairy, he descended to earth disguised as a beggar. On learning for himself how bad-tempered Buwan was, and how sweet and kind-hearted Araw, God gave the older sister her diamond as a reward. Buwan was greatly angered by this favoritism on the part of the Almighty, so she went to the heavenly kingdom and stole one of God's diamonds. Then she returned to earth with the precious stone, but there she found that her jewel was not so brilliant as Araw's.
When God went back to heaven and learned what Buwan had done, he sent two angels to punish her. But the angels abused their commission: they seized both sisters and hurled them into the sea. Then they threw the two stones upward into the sky, and there they stuck. But Araw's diamond was bigger and brighter than the one Buwan stole. Thereafter the bigger jewel was called Araw ("day" or "sun"); and the smaller one, Buwan ("moon").
Notes.
A Pangasinan myth, narrated by Emilio Bulatao of San Carlos, Pangasinan, tells how the light from the sun and the moon proceeds from two fiery palaces. The story follows:--
The Sun, the Moon, and the Stars.
There was once a powerful god called Ama ["father"], the father and ruler of all others, and the creator of man. He had a wonderful aerial abode, from which he could see everything. Of all his sons, Agueo ["sun, day"] and Bulan ["moon"] were his two favorites, and to these he gave each a fiery palace. In accordance with the wish of their father, Agueo and Bulan daily passed across the earth side by side, and together they furnished light to mankind. Now, Agueo was of a morose and taciturn disposition, but he was always very obedient to his father; Bulan, on the other hand, was merry and full of mischief.
Once, when they were near the end of their day's labor, they saw thieves on the earth below, wishing that it were night so that they might proceed with their unlawful business. Bulan, who was one of their kind, urged Agueo to be quick, so that the earth might soon be left in darkness. As Agueo obstinately refused to be hurried, a quarrel ensued between the two brothers. Their father, who had been watching the two boys and had heard all that passed between them, became very angry with the mischievous Bulan; and, in his wrath, he seized an enormous rock and hurled it whistling through the air. The rock struck the palace of Bulan, and was broken into thousands of pieces, which got perpetual light from contact with the fiery palace. These may still be seen in the heavens, and they are called Bituen ["stars"]. Bulan was forbidden to travel with Agueo any more, but was commanded to light the ways of thieves henceforth with his much-dimmed fiery palace.
A somewhat similar Pampango myth may also be given here, as it has never before been printed. It was narrated by Leopoldo Layug of Guagua, Pampanga, and is entitled "The Sun and the Moon."
Long ago the earth was created and ruled by Bathala. He had two children, Apolaqui and Mayari. From the eyes of these two children the earth received its first light. The people, the birds of the air, the animals of the mountains, and even the fishes of the sea, were glad because they had light, and so they were great friends of the two children.
Bathala loved his children tenderly, and never wanted them to be separated from him. So, no matter how tired he was, he always followed them in their daily walks. But as time went on, and Bathala became old and feeble and could no longer keep up with his active son and daughter, he asked them to stay with him at all times; but they were so absorbed in their pleasures, that they paid no heed to their father's wish. One day he became sick, and died suddenly, without leaving any written will as to the disposition of his kingdom. Now Apolaqui wanted to rule the earth without giving any power to his sister Mayari. She refused to consent to her brother's plan, and a bitter conflict arose between them. For a long time they fought with bamboo clubs. At last Mayari had one of her eyes put out. When Apolaqui saw what he had done to his sister, he felt very sorry for her, and said that they should struggle no longer, but that they should exercise equal power on the earth, only at different times. Since that time, Apolaqui, who is now called the Sun, has ruled the earth during the day, and from his eyes we receive bright light. Mayari, who is called the Moon, rules the world at night. Her light, however, is fainter than her brother's, for she has but one eye.
This same struggle between the two great luminaries is reflected in two short cradle-songs that Pampangan mothers sing to their children to still them. These verses were contributed by Lorenzo Licup of Angeles:--
Ing bulan ilaning aldo Mitatagalan la baho Pangaras da quetang cuarto Nipag sundang, mipagpusto.
"The Moon and the Sun chased each other above. When they came into a room, they took their daggers from their sides and were ready to fight each other."
Ing aldo ilaning bulan Mitatagalan la lalan Pangaras da quetang Pampang Mipagpustu, 't, mitabacan.
"The Sun and the Moon chased each other below. When they came to a bank, they first made preparation, and then began to fight each other with bolos."
The two stories and the two stanzas just given appear to be genuine old native tradition, unmodified by Christianity.
For Tinguian, Bukidnon, Mandaya, and Visayan myths of the sun, moon, and stars, see M. C. Cole, 65, 124, 145, 201.
TALE 71
WHY THE CULING HAS A TONSURE.
Narrated by Francisco M. Africa.
In a certain field there lived two birds,--Pogô ("quail") and Culing (a small black bird that has no feathers on the top of its head). One day Pogô, while scratching the ground for food, met Culing. When Culing saw Pogô, he said in a taunting tone, "Where are you going, lazy one? Be more active. Don't be as lazy as a leech!"
Pogô became very angry. "You call me lazy!" he said. "You are much lazier than I. Let us see which can fly higher into the sky!"
Thereupon Culing agreed, and he began to fly upward until he was lost from sight. He flew so high, that his head touched the surface of the sky. As the sky was hot, all the feathers on the top of his head were burned off; and ever since, the culing has had a tonsure.
The Culeto and the Crow.
Narrated by Leopoldo Uichanco, a Tagalog from Calamba, La Laguna. He says, "This tradition is a favorite one among Tagalog children. I have often heard the story told by old men while I was waiting my turn at barber-shops in my province."
The culeto is a fine singer, but it is bald-headed. The natives often capture it and train it to talk. Formerly this little black bird was not so bald as it is to-day: its head, in fact, was covered with a thick growth of feathers. And the crow, too: it was not black once, but its feathers were as white as starch.
Once upon a time, shortly after the Deluge, the crow was merrily crowing on the branch of a tree when the culeto came by. The voice of the crow was so harsh, that the culeto made fun of it. "Good-morning, Mr. Crow!" said the culeto, "I am very glad to hear you sing. Your voice is so fine, that I cannot help closing my ears."
"Pray, think first of yourself!" answered the crow. "What do I care for a good voice, so long as I have a strong body? Why don't you laugh at yourself? See how weak and tiny you are!"
"Weak!" said the culeto. "Do you call me weak? I would fly a race even with an eagle."
"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the crow. "The idea of racing the eagle when you do not even dare race me!"
"Race with you! Why, you would only disgrace yourself," retorted the culeto.
"Wait!" answered the crow. "Eat some more rice, drink some more water, fill your body with more air! And wait till you grow bigger before you venture to race with me!"
"The strength of a person," said the culeto, nettled, "is not to be judged by his size. Don't you know that it is the smallest pepper that is the hottest?"
"Well, then," replied the crow, "if you wish to race me now at your own risk, let us begin!"
"One, two, three!" counted the culeto, and up they flew. During their flight the two birds became separated from each other by a dense cloud. The culeto flew at full speed so high upward, that he knocked his head very hard against the door of the sky,--so hard, in fact, that a large piece of skin was scraped from his scalp. The crow, having lost his way, flew so near the sun, that his feathers were burned black.
It is on account of this bet between the culeto and the crow that all the descendants of the former have been bald-headed, while all the descendants of the crow have black feathers to-day.
The Hawk and the Coling.
Narrated by Agapito Gaa of Taal, Batangas. He says that this Tagalog story is well known in every town in Batangas province. He heard the story from his grandfather.
Early one morning a hawk sallied forth from his nest to find something to eat. He flew so high that he could hardly be seen from the earth. He looked down; but as he could not see anything, he flew lower and lower, until he came to the top of a tree. On one of the branches he saw sitting quietly a coling. The hawk despised the little bird, and at once made up his mind to challenge him to a flight upward.
So the hawk said to the coling, "Do you wish to fly up into the sky with me to see which of us can fly the faster and the higher?"
The coling did not answer at once, but he thought of the matter for a while. Then he said to the hawk, "When do you want to have the race?"
"That is for you to decide," said the hawk. "If you wish to have it now, well and good."
"Well," said the coling, "let us have it to-morrow morning before sunrise!"
"All right," said the hawk.
"But," said the coling, "each of us is to carry a load with him to make the flight a little more difficult."
"Well, what do you want to take with you?" said the hawk.
"I will take some salt," said the coling.
"Then I will take some cotton," replied the hawk. "Let us meet here in this tree early to-morrow!" This agreed upon, the two birds separated. The hawk went to the cotton-field and got his load of cotton, while the coling went to the sea and got some salt.
The next morning they met in the tree, each having the object he would carry with him in his flight. They asked the crow, who was present, to be the judge of the contest. The crow accepted the commission, and said that he would give a caw as a signal for them to start. He did so, and the two contestants were off. At first the hawk flew faster and higher than the coling; but very soon it began to rain. The cotton on the hawk's back became soaked with water, and soon was very heavy; but the salt on the coling's back was soon dissolved, and then he had no load at all. Under these conditions, the coling soon overtook the bigger bird. For a time they flew side by side; but after a few minutes the coling had the best of the race, and in a little while longer the hawk could no longer see his rival. But the coling flew so high, that at last his head touched the sun, and all the feathers on the top were burned off. The hawk now flew down to the crow, and said that he had won the race, for the coling had fallen to the ground dead. But by and by the coling himself came. He showed them the top of his head as a proof that he had won the race. The crow gave his decision in favor of the coling, and the hawk flew off disgraced.
From that time all colings have had the tops of their heads bald to show that they are the descendants of the victorious bird.
Notes.
These three forms of the "flight-contest" incident are all from southern Luzon,--the provinces of La Laguna and Batangas. The tale seems to be definitely localized there. I know of its occurrence nowhere else in the Islands. Nor have I found any Malayan variants.
For other pourquoi stories of why certain birds are bald, see Dähnhardt, 3 : 11-14. Dähnhardt (ibid., 142) cites a Ceylon tale of the crow and the drongo, who had a bet as to which could fly the higher carrying a load. Crow selected tree-cotton for his burden; but Drongo, noticing the black rain-clouds overhead, carried salt, and thus won; for his load became constantly lighter, while Crow's became heavier.
With the explanation given in the second tale of this group of why the crow is black, compare a Pawnee story (JAFL 6 : 126), in which a crow, which is sent to the sun to get fire, has all his feathers singed.
TALE 72
WHY THE COW'S SKIN IS LOOSE ON THE NECK.
Narrated by Francisco M. Africa.
There was once a poor farmer who possessed a cow and a carabao. These two animals were his only wealth. Every day he led them to the field to plough. He worked his animals so hard, that they often complained to him; but the cruel master would not even listen to their words. One day the cow, who had grown tired of this kind of life, said to the carabao, "Let us run away from this evil man! Though we are very dirty, he is not willing for us even to take a bath. If we remain here with him, we shall be as ugly and as filthy as pigs. If we run away from him, however, he will have to do his own work, and then we shall be revenged. Hurry up! Let us go!"
The spirit of the carabao was aroused: he jumped with a loud roar, and said, "I too have long been meditating escape, but I hesitated because I was afraid you might not be willing to join me in flight. We are so ill-treated by our cruel master, that God will have pity on us. Come on! Let us go!"
The two animals at once set out, running as fast as they could, always trying to avoid any human beings. When they came to a river, the cow said, "We are very dirty. Let us take a bath before we go on! The water of this river is so clean and clear, that we shall soon be as clean as we were before our contemptible master got hold of us."
The carabao answered, "We would better run a little farther, for perhaps our master is already in pursuit of us. Besides, we are very tired now, and I have been told that to take a bath when one is tired injures the health."
"Don't believe that!" returned the cow. "Our bodies are so big, that we do not need to fear sickness."
At last the carabao was persuaded by the arguments of the cow; and he said, "All right! Let us take off our clothes before we go into the water!"
The two animals then stripped themselves of all their clothes, then they plunged into the deep, cool river. They had been in the water less than an hour, however, when they saw their master coming after them with a big stick in his hand. They ran up to where their clothes were; but in their haste the carabao put on the cow's clothes, and the cow got the carabao's. As soon as they were dressed, they continued their mad flight; and as their master was very tired, he had to give up the chase and return home disappointed.
Since the carabao was larger than the cow, the skin on the cow's neck has been loose ever since, because the two friends were separated and could never exchange clothes again. And likewise the skin on the carabao's neck has been tight ever since these two animals made their mistake in dressing.
The First Loose-Skinned Cow and the First Tight-Skinned Carabao.
Narrated by Amanda Morente, a Tagalog from Pinamalayan, Mindoro. She heard the story from an old woman of her town.
Many years ago, when the people of the world were still few in number and the animals took the place of servants, an old man bought a cow and a carabao from his neighbor. With these animals he travelled until he reached the top of a mountain. There they saw a cave, and the old man told his servants to enter and see if there was any danger inside. With slow and cautious steps the carabao and the cow went in, examining every corner. All at once the cow perceived something moving. In his fright he jumped back, and hid behind his companion; but the slow-going carabao did not see the figure, and suddenly he felt his hind leg seized in a strong grasp. The god of the cave had caught him. Then the god of the cave spoke. His voice was terrifying, but his words were kind. He told them how for many days he had been hungry, and he asked for meat. The cow, whose courage had by this time been somewhat restored, gladly offered him some of her master's provisions, which she was carrying. In return for this kindness, the god gave each of the animals a dress: to the carabao he gave one of gold; and to the cow, one of bronze. He also invited the two to remain with him and be his servants.
Some time after the two friends had been installed in their new home, the god of the cave sent them one day to gather fruits. The carabao and the cow were delighted at this prospect of a change, and they jumped with joy. They rushed out into the woods; and when they came to a pond, they took off their new clothes and plunged into the soft mud. While they were enjoying their bath, they saw their master coming. He was carrying a big stick. They knew very well that he would beat them, for they had been away the whole morning. In their haste to get their clothes back on, they made a mistake: the carabao got into the cow's dress, and the cow into the carabao's. After that they never exchanged their clothes, which finally became their outer skin. So to-day the carabao has a tight bronze-colored skin; and the cow, a loose golden-colored one.
Note.
Like the preceding, this story appears to be a native Tagalog tale. I know of no other variants.
TALE 73
WHY THE MONKEY IS WISE.
Narrated by Francisco M. Africa.
Once upon a time there lived a poor man who had seven sons. These young men, all except the youngest, helped their aged father with the work; but the family became poorer and poorer. One day, when they had exhausted all their means of support, the father called his sons before him. To every son he assigned a certain kind of work, so that there might be cooperation, and hence efficiency, in the labors of the humble family. To the youngest son was assigned the task of gathering sticks in the forest for fuel.
Not long afterwards a pestilence broke out in the little town where the old man lived, and all his sons but the youngest died. The father was left to starve on his bed, for his only living son was so ungrateful as not to give any help to his father in his last years. When the old man was about to breathe his last, he called his son to give him his final benediction; but the ungrateful boy, instead of going to his dying father, ran away into the woods, and the old man passed away without anybody to care for him.
But God punished the unfilial son; he cursed him; and the boy lost his power of speech, and was condemned to live in the forests ever after as a monkey. Thus, although monkeys cannot talk, they are wise because they are descended from a human being.
Notes.
I know of no analogues of this story, but will cite two other Filipino myths accounting for the origin of monkeys. The first was narrated by Antonio Maceda, a Tagalog from Pagsanjan, who heard it from his grandfather. The story follows.
Origin of the Monkey.
A long time ago the world, which was divided into earth and heaven, was very lonesome, for Bathala was the only living being in it. He lived in heaven. One day Bathala felt so lonely, that the thought of creating some living beings for his companions came into his mind. He had never thought of this before, although with his infinite power he could do anything he pleased. So he came down to earth to get some clay; but he found the ground very dry, for there was no such thing as rain on the earth. Immediately he said, "Let there be rain!" and the rain fell down. Then, with a large load of slippery clay, Bathala returned to heaven and began the work of creation. He created men, birds, plants, mountains, and rivers (sic!). While he was in the act of creating men, however, an accident occurred. As he was moulding a piece of clay into the shape of a man, the mould slipped from his left hand. Bathala was quick enough to grasp the back of this lifeless mass of clay; but the clay was so soft that it stretched out into a long rope, and the mould fell into a tree. In his anger, Bathala said, "I curse thee! Thou shalt have life, but thou shalt inhabit trees. The part of thy body that has been stretched out into a rope shall become thy tail."
The lifeless mould was at once changed into a monkey, the great-grandfather of all the monkeys.
The following story was written down by Sotero Albano, an Ilocano from Dingras, Ilocos Norte:--
The First Monkey.
Long years ago there lived in a thick forest a young girl under the care of the goddess of weaving. Here she lived happily and without care, for everything that she wanted to eat was provided for her by her patroness.
One day the goddess said to the girl, "Take this cotton, clean it, and make out of it a dress for yourself." Now, the girl knew nothing about making cloth and weaving it: so she said to the goddess, "When the cotton is cleaned, is it ready for use?"
"No," answered her guardian; "after it is cleaned, it must be beaten." "Well, after it is beaten, is it ready for use?" said the lazy girl.
The goddess said that before it could be used, it would have to be spun.
"Well, after it is spun," persisted the saucy maiden, "is it ready for use?"
"No; it must next be woven into cloth, cut, and sewed," answered the patient goddess.
"Oh!" said the girl, "it will take a long time and much hard work to make clothes that way. This leather hide, which you have given me to beat the cotton on, will make me better clothing, because it will wear longer." So she covered herself with the leather. The goddess was so angry at the girl for her laziness, that she determined that the leather should not only be her dress, but also become her very skin. Then the goddess took the stick for beating the cotton, and, thrusting it between the maiden's buttocks, said to her, "This stick will become a part of your body, and you will use it for climbing-purposes. As a penalty for your laziness, henceforth you shall live in trees in the forest, and there you will find your food."
Thus originated the first monkey with a coat of leather and a tail.
Obviously connected with this Ilocano story are three Tinguian myths recorded by Cole, who abstracts them thus:--
(No. 65.) A lazy man, who is planting corn, constantly leans on his planting-stick. It becomes a tail, and he turns into a monkey.
(No. 66.) A boy is too lazy to strip sugarcane for himself. His mother, in anger, tells him to stick it up his anus. He does so, and becomes a monkey.
(No. 67.) A lazy girl pretends she does not know how to spin. Her companions, in disgust, tell her to stick the spinning-stick up her anus. She does so, and at once changes into a monkey.
Compare also a Bagobo story collected by Miss Benedict (JAFL 26 : 21), where a ladle becomes a monkey's tail; also an African saga in Dähnhardt (3 : 488).
The Filipinos have other explanatory myths which credit Lucifer with the creation of monkeys and snakes.
TALE 74
THE LOST NECKLACE.
Narrated by Facundo Esquivel, a Tagalog, who heard the story from a friend from Cebu. The story is Visayan.
Once a crow bought a fine necklace from a merchant. He was very proud of his purchase, which he immediately put around his neck, so that everybody could see it. Then he flew away, and came to a beautiful little garden, where he met his old friend the hen strutting about, with her chicks following her. The hen said to him, "Oh, what a fine necklace you have! May I borrow it? I will return it to you to-morrow without fail."
Now, the crow liked the hen: so he willingly lent her the necklace for a day. The next morning, when the crow returned for his property, he found the hen and her chicks scratching the ground near an old wall. "Where is my necklace?" said the crow.
"It is lost," said the hen. "My chicks took it yesterday while I was asleep, and now they do not remember where they put it. We have been looking for it all day, and yet we have not been able to find it."
"You must pay for it at once," said the crow, "or else I shall go to the king and tell him that you stole my necklace."
The hen was frightened at this reply, and she began to wonder how she could raise the necessary money. The crow, who was on his way to a fiesta, at last said impatiently, "I will take one of your chicks every day in payment of what you owe me. As soon as you find the necklace, give it to me, and then I will stop eating your chicks." The hen had to be satisfied with this arrangement, for she feared that the crow would go to the king if she refused.
Unto this day, then, you can find hens and chicks together looking for the lost necklace by scratching the ground; and the crows are still exacting payment for the lost jewel by eating chicks. It is said that the hens and chickens will never cease scratching the ground until the lost necklace is found.
The Cock and the Sparrow-Hawk.
Narrated by Dolores Asuncion of Manila. She heard the story from an old Tagalog.
Long ago the sparrow-hawk and the cock were very good friends. Once, when the cocks were going to hold a great fiesta in the neighboring village, a proud young rooster, who wished to get the reputation for being rich and consequently win him a wife, went to the sparrow-hawk, and said, "My friend, please lend me your bracelet! I am going to our fiesta; and I wish to make some young hens there believe that I am rich, in order that they may love me."
The sparrow-hawk answered, "With much pleasure, my friend."
So the cock went to the fiesta wearing the borrowed bracelet. While he was dancing, however, he lost the jewel, and could find it nowhere. At last he went back to the sparrow-hawk, and said, "I am very sorry, my friend, but I lost your bracelet while I was dancing, and I can find it nowhere. What do you wish me to give you in payment for it?"
The sparrow-hawk answered, "Since that bracelet was an heirloom, I valued it very highly. You must go back to the place where you think you lost it, and there look for it until you find it. In the mean time I reserve the right to take from your flock a chicken whenever I please."
So, ever since that time sparrow-hawks are often seen carrying off young chickens, while the cocks have been busy scratching the ground to find the lost bracelet. Hens also scratch the soil, for they hate to lose their chicks, and they want to find the bracelet as soon as possible. They look up into the sky to see if the sparrow-hawk is near; then they scratch the soll vigorously, and cry, "Tac-ta-laoc!" which means, "Come and help me!"
Note.
Another Visayan variant of these two stories may be found in the "Journal of American Folk-Lore" (20 : 100), whence it has been reprinted by M. C. Cole (p. 212), "The Hawk and the Hen." An African analogue may be found in Dayrell (No. xv, p. 62).
TALE 75
THE STORY OF OUR FINGERS.
Narrated by Leopoldo Uichanco, a Tagalog from Calamba, La Laguna.
"Why," said Antonio to his grandfather one day, "does our thumb stand separate from the other fingers?"
"That is only so in our days," replied old Julian. "In the days of long ago the fingers of our ancestors stood together in the same position. One day one of these fingers, the one we call the little finger, became very hungry, and he asked the finger next to him to give him some food.
"'O brother!' said the Ring-Finger in reply, 'I am hungry also; but where shall we get food?'
"'Heaven is merciful,' put in the Middle-Finger, trying to comfort his two brothers; 'Heaven will give us some.'
"'But, Brother Middle-Finger,' protested the Forefinger, 'what if Heaven gives us no food?'
"'Well, then,' interposed the Thumb, 'let us steal!'
"'Steal!' echoed the Forefinger, not at all pleased by the advice that had just been given. 'Mr. Thumb knows better than to do that, I hope!'
"'That is bad policy, Mr. Thumb,' concluded the other three unanimously. 'Your idea is against morality, against God, against yourself, against everybody. Our conscience will not permit us to steal.'
"'Oh, no, no!' returned Thumb angrily, 'you are greatly mistaken, my friends! Haven't you sense enough even to know how foolish you are to oppose my plan? Do you call my scheme bad policy,--to save your lives and mine?'
"'Ay, if that be your plan,' said the other four fingers, 'you can go your own way. As for us, we would rather starve and die than steal.' Then the four virtuous brothers drove Thumb in shame out of their community, and would have nothing more to do with him.
"So that is why," concluded old Julian, "we see our thumbs separated from the other four fingers. He was a thief; and the other four, who were honest, did not care to live with him. And it is because Little-Finger did not have enough to eat, that we see him lean and weak these days."
Note.
I know of no other Filipino accounts of why the thumb is separated from the rest of the fingers. As an interesting curiosity, however, I might cite a Bicol children's jingle of five lines which characterize briefly the five fingers (the thumb is the last described) :--
Maya-mayang saday Magayon na singsignan Daculang mangmang Atrevido Hababang tao
"Pretty little sparrow, Beautiful for a ring, Long but lazy fellow, Froward, insolent thing, Dumpy, dwarfish one."
TALE 76
WHY SNAILS CLIMB UP GRASS.
Narrated by José E. Tomeldan of Binalonan, Pangasinan.
Long ago, when the various kinds of animals dwelt together in a kind of community, a dalag (a kind of mud-fish), a dragonfly, a wasp, and a snail agreed to live together in a common house. They furthermore agreed to divide up the different household duties according to their power and skill. Accordingly, Dalag, since he was the biggest and strongest of all, was made the head of the house. He was also to provide food for his little companions. Dragon-Fly was made the messenger, because he was the swiftest of them all, but was too weak for any other kind of work. Wasp was made the house-guard because of his poisonous sting. Besides being guard, he was also to keep the house in repair, because he could carry bits of earth and other building-materials. Snail was made the cook, because he was too slow for any other duty except tending the house.
Early one day Dalag went out to look for food. He swam slowly here and there among the water-plants, when suddenly he saw something moving on the surface of the water. When he approached nearer, he saw that it was a big frog swimming helplessly among the duck-weeds. "This is a big piece of sweet food for us," thought Dalag, and without hesitation he seized the frog. When he had assured himself that it could not get away from him, he started to swim home. But, alas! he never reached his companions; for a sharp hook was inside the frog, and poor Dalag was caught fast. He tried hard to free himself, but in rain. Soon a fisherman came, and, putting Dalag in his basket, took him home and ate him.
In the mean time Dalag's three companions were anxiously waiting for him. When they realized that he was lost, Dragon-Fly was sent out to look for him. Before he went, Dragon-Fly spent a long time arranging his neck-tie. Then he flew away, turning his head in all directions to look for Dalag. At last he met Bolasi (a kind of fish whose lips always move in and out on the surface of the water), and he became very angry because he thought that Bolasi was laughing at his neck-tie. Dragon-Fly thought that his tie must be too loose, so he tightened it. Still Bolasi laughed every time he saw Dragon-Fly. Dragon-Fly kept drawing his tie tighter and tighter, until at last he cut his own head off, and that was the end of him.
Two days had now passed; still Dalag and Dragon-Fly were missing from home. By this time Wasp and Snail were very hungry. But Snail had the advantage over Wasp; for Snail could eat mud to pass away the time, while Wasp could not eat mud, but could only draw in his belt a little tighter. At last Wasp could no longer endure his hunger. His abdomen by this time had become very slender: so he flew forth in search of either Dalag or Dragon-Fly. While he was flying about, his hunger oppressed him so much, that he tightened his belt again and again, until he finally broke in two; and that was the end of Wasp.
Now only Snail was left. He set out from his home, and wandered everywhere in search of his three companions, weeping as he went. His food consisted mostly of mud. Whenever he could find a stalk of grass or the stem of a water-plant, Snail would climb up to look around and to see if any of his old friends were in sight. Even to-day the snails still weep; and whenever they see a stalk of grass projecting above the surface of the water, they climb up and look around, trying to discover their old friends.
TALE 77
WHY THE CUTTLE-FISH AND SQUIDS PRODUCE A BLACK LIQUID.
Narrated by Victoria Ciudadano of Batangas. She says she heard the story from an old woman. It is known by both the Tagalogs and the Visayans.
A long time ago, after Bathala [108] had created the fishes, he assigned a certain day for all of them to meet in the Dark Sea. The object of this convention was to appoint some officers. Early in the morning of the day designated, the fishes were to be seen hurrying to the meeting. When they reached the assembly hall, they found Bathala sitting on a beautiful stone, waiting for them. He called the roll when it seemed that all of the fishes were present. It was found that the cuttle-fish and squid were absent, so they waited for them a half-hour; but still they did not come. At last Bathala arose, and said, "The meeting will come to order." After the fishes had taken their proper positions, Bathala continued, "The object of this meeting is to appoint some officers and to issue their appointments."
At once all the fishes became very quiet and respectful, for all were anxious to know what offices each was going to hold. Bathala appointed the sting-ray sergeant-at-arms: hence all sting-rays now have whip-like tails. The crocodile was appointed cadaver-carrier: so now all its children have a coffin-like skin on their backs. The crab was made a soldier: so to-day all its descendants have large and strong fore-legs. Bathala had not finished giving out his appointments when the two missing members came. They at once interrupted the meeting by asking what it was all about. Bathala became very angry at the interruption, so he scolded the sting-ray and the squid severely. The rebuke humiliated them so, that they agreed between themselves to go get mud and throw it on the official appointments. When they had gotten the mud, they came back and asked Bathala to give them something to do; but, instead of appointing them to some work, he only scolded them for being late. Angered, they now threw mud on all the appointments that had already been drawn up. This insulting act of the cuttle-fish and the squid so enraged Bathala, that he stood up, and said in thundering tones, "Now I shall punish you. From this time on, you and your descendants shall carry pouches of mud with you all the time. Besides, you shall be very slow in moving because of your heavy loads." The squid tried to make excuses, but Bathala became angrier than ever, and said, "You are the naughtiest creature I ever had. As a punishment, you and your children shall remain the same size as you are now." And all of Bathala's words have turned out to be true.
TALE 78
WHY COCKS HAVE COMBS ON THEIR HEADS.
Narrated by Rosita Nieva, a Tagalog from Boac, Marinduque. She heard the story from her grandmother.
Once upon a time there was a magician named Pablo, who had a son called Juan. Pablo was very industrious, but Juan was lazy and disobedient. Juan cared for nothing but fine clothes and his own appearance; he would not help his father. One day Pablo went into his son's room to find out what he was doing. There he was, standing before a mirror, and combing his hair. Pablo was so angry at his son, that he immediately snatched the comb from his hand. Then he angrily struck the boy's head with the comb, and spoke these harsh words: "Since you always want to use the comb, let it be on your head forever! I prefer to have no son at all. I would rather see you changed into a bird than to remain such a disobedient, worthless boy." The father struck his son's head so hard, that the comb stuck deep into the skull. By Pablo's magic power, Juan was immediately changed into a cock, and the comb on his head was changed into flesh. We can see it to-day on the heads of all the descendants of Juan.
Note.
I know of no variants of stories Nos. 76-78.
TALE 79
HOW THE CROW BECAME BLACK.
Narrated by Vicente L. Neri, a Visayan from Cagayan, Misamis. He was told the story by his grandmother.
A long time ago, when Bathala, the god of the land, was peacefully ruling his dominions, he had many pets. Among these, his two favorites were the dove and the crow. The crow was noted for its bright, pretty plumage.
One day Bathala had a quarrel with Dumagat, the god of the sea. Bathala's subjects had been stealing fish, which were the subjects of Dumagat. When Dumagat learned of this, and could get no satisfaction from Bathala, he retaliated. He opened the big pipe through which the water of the world passes, and flooded the dominions of Bathala, until nearly all the people were drowned. When the water had abated somewhat, Bathala sent the crow, his favorite messenger, to find out whether all his subjects had been killed. The crow flew out from the palace where the god lived, and soon saw the corpses of many persons floating about. He descended, alighted on one, and began to eat the decaying cadaver. When Bathala saw that it was late and that the crow had not returned, he sent the dove on the same errand, telling the bird also to find out what had become of the first messenger. The dove flew away, looking for any signs of life. At last he saw the crow eating some of the decaying bodies. Immediately he told the crow that the king had sent for him, and together they flew back to Bathala's palace.
When the two birds arrived at the king's court, the dove told Bathala that the crow had been eating some dead bodies, and consequently had not done what he had been sent to do. Bathala was very angry at this disobedience. Without saying a word, he seized his big inkstand filled with black ink and threw it at the crow, which was immediately covered. Bathala then turned to the dove, and said, "You, my dove, because of your faithfulness, shall be my favorite pet, and no longer shall you be a messenger." Then he turned to the crow, and said, "You, foul bird, shall forever remain black; you shall forever be a scavenger, and every one shall hate you."
So that is why to-day the dove is loved by the people, and the crow hated. The crows to-day are all black, because they are descendants of the bird punished by Bathala.
Why the Crow is Black.
Narrated by Ricardo Ortega, an Ilocano living in Tarlac. The story, however, is Pampangan.
The first crow that lived on the earth was a beautiful bird with a sweet voice. The universe was ruled over by the god Sinukuan, and all his subjects were either plants or animals. No human beings were yet in existence. Sinukuan lived in a beautiful palace surrounded with gardens of gold. In these gardens lived two crows who sang sweet songs, and did nothing but fly about among the flowers and trees. Their golden plumage was beautiful to see, and Sinukuan took great delight in them.
Once a terrible pestilence visited the earth, and a great many of Sinukuan's animals began to die. In his distress and sorrow, Sinukuan at once set out and made a tour of his kingdom to give what relief he could to his suffering subjects. After being away three days, he returned to his palace, his mind weighted down by all the death and sickness he had seen. When he reached his garden, he called to his two birds to come sing for him and relieve his mental anguish; but neither of the birds came. Sinukuan went through his gardens, but he called in rain. "O birds! where are you?" he cried. Thinking that perhaps they had flown away and had been attacked by the pestilence, he determined to make another trip through his kingdom and look for them.
He had not walked a mile, when, approaching a number of dead animals, he saw the pair feasting on the decaying flesh. When they saw their master, they bowed their heads in shame. Had not Sinukuan restrained himself, he might have killed them that very moment; but he thought of a better way to punish them. "Now," he said, as he cursed them, "from this time on, you shall be very ugly black birds; you shall lose your beautiful voice, and shall be able to make only a harsh cry."
From that time on, those birds were black, and their offspring are the crows of to-day.
The Dove and the Crow.
Narrated by Restituto D. Carpio, a Zambal from Cabangan, Zambales.
A few days after the inundation of the world, God sent a crow down to earth to see how deep the water was on the land. When the crow flew down to earth, he was surprised to see so many dead animals everywhere. It came to his mind that perhaps they would taste good, so he alighted on one of them and began to eat. He was so very much pleased with the abundance of food about him, that he forgot all about the command God had given him, and he remained on the earth.
On the third day, since the crow had not returned, God sent a dove down to earth to find out the depth of the water, and to make other observations of the things that had taken place on the earth. As the dove was a faithful creature, she did not forget what God told her. When she reached the earth, she did not alight on any dead animal, but alighted directly in the water. Now, the water was red from the blood of so many creatures that had been slain. When the dove stood in the bloody water, she found that it was only an inch deep. She at once flew back to heaven, where, in the presence of God, she related what she had seen on earth, while the crimson color on her feet was evidence of the depth of the water.
After a short time the crow returned. He came before God, who spoke to him thus: "What made you so long? Why did you not return sooner from the earth?" As the crow had no good reason to give for his delay, he said nothing: he simply bent his head.
God punished the crow by putting a chain on his legs. So that to-day the crow cannot walk: all he can do is to hop from place to place. The dove, which was faithful to God, is now the favorite pet bird the world over. The red color on her feet may be seen to-day as evidence that she performed her duty.
Notes.
None of our stories presents the exact sequence of events found in other folk-tales of the sending-out of the raven and the dove after the Deluge to measure the depth of the water; but there can be no doubt that the Zambal story (c) derives immediately from one of these. The Visayan account mentions a flood, but not the Deluge. In the fact that the cause of the great inundation is a quarrel between two chief Pagan deities, there seems to be preserved an old native tradition. In the Pampangan story not only is the curse of the crow attributed to a Pagan deity, Sinukuan, but the occasion of the bird's downfall is a pestilence. There is no mention whatever of a flood, nor is the dove alluded to.
Dähnhardt (1 : 283-287) has discussed a number of folk-tales and traditions of the punishment of the raven and the rewarding of the dove. These are for the most part associated with popular accounts of events immediately after the Deluge. Two that seem to be nearly related to our versions may be reproduced here in English:--
(Polish story of the dove.) When Noah had despatched a dove from the Ark, the bird alighted on an oak, but soiled its feet in the water of the Flood, which was all red from the blood of the multitudes that had been drowned. Since then, doves have all had red feet. (This detail appears in part word for word in our Zambal story.)
(Arabian tradition recorded by the ninth-century historian Tabarî.) Noah said to the raven, "Go and set foot on the earth and see how deep the water is now." The raven flew forth. But on the way it found a corpse; it began to eat of it, and did not return to Noah. Noah, troubled, cursed the raven: "May God make you despised of mankind, and may your food always be corpses!" Then Noah sent the dove forth. The dove flew away, and without alighting dipped its feet in the water. But the water of the Flood was salty and stinging; it burned the dove's feet so that the feathers did not grow in again, and the skin dropped off. Those doves that have red feet without feathers are the descendants of the dove that Noah sent forth. Then Noah said, "May God make you welcome among mankind!" For this reason the dove is even to-day beloved of mankind. (This version is of especial interest in connection with the Visayan story, which comes from Mindanao, the home of Mohammedanism in the Philippines. Note the close correspondences.)
While it appears to me more than likely that our Filipino stories derive ultimately from Arabian sources through the Moros of the southern islands rather than through the Spaniards, nevertheless to settle the question absolutely more variants are needed for comparison.
Attention might be called to incidents peculiar to the Philippine accounts and not found in any of the versions cited by Dähnhardt:--
(1) A deity, not Noah, sends out the birds.
(2) The crows of Sinukuan (b), in addition to becoming black, are condemned forever afterward to have raucous, unpleasant voices.
(3) In the Visayan story Bathala makes the crow black by hurling an inkstand at it. This undignified detail may have been taken over from one of the popular metrical romances ("Baldovinos" or "Doce Pares") in which Charlemagne loses his temper and throws an inkwell at Roland (see JAFL 29 : 208, 214, 215). Or it is just barely possible that this popular bit of machinery became attached to our story of the crow on the analogy of an Annamite tale (Landes, Contes annamites, p. 210 f., cited by Dähnhardt, 3 : 65):--
The raven and the coq de pagode were once men in the service of the saint (Confucius), who transformed them into birds as a punishment for disobedience. In order to undo the punishment and to make the saint laugh, the raven smeared itself all over with ink. The coq de pagode wished to do the same to itself, but had only enough black ink for half its body; for the rest it was obliged to use red. Therefore the raven is black, and the coq de pagode is half red, half black.
(4) In the Zambal story the crow is punished, not by being made black, but by having a chain put on its legs; so that the crows to-day cannot walk, but must hop from place to place.
In conclusion I will cite merely for completeness an American Indian version not found in Dähnhardt. It is referred to by Sir J. G. Frazer (Folk-Lore in the Old Testament [1918], 1 : 297), who writes as follows:--
"The same missionary [i.e., Mgr. Faraud, in Annales de la Propagation de la Foi, xxxvi (1864), 388 et seq.] reports a deluge legend current among the Crees, another tribe of the Algonquin stock in Canada; but this Cree story bears clear traces of Christian influence, for in it the man is said to have sent forth from the canoe, first a raven, and second a wood-pigeon. The raven did not return, and as a punishment for his disobedience the bird was changed from white to black; the pigeon returned with his claws full of mud, from which the man inferred that the earth was dried up; so he landed."
For other folk explanations of the black color of the crow or raven, see Dähnhardt, 3 : 59, 65-66, 71, 369. An entirely different account of how the crow's feathers, which were originally as white as starch, became black, is given in out No. 71 (b).
TALE 80
WHY THE OCEAN IS SALTY.
Narrated by José M. Paredes of Bangued, Ilocos Sur. He heard the story from a farmer.
A few years after the creation of the world there lived a tall giant by the name of Ang-ngalo, the only son of the god of building. Ang-ngalo was a wanderer, and a lover of work. He lived in the mountains, where he dug many caves. These caves he protected from the continual anger of Angin, the goddess of the wind, by precipices and sturdy trees.
One bright morning, while Ang-ngalo was climbing to his loftiest cave, he spied across the ocean--the ocean at the time was pure, its water being the accumulated tears of disappointed goddesses--a beautiful maid. She beckoned to him, and waved her black handkerchief: so Ang-ngalo waded across to her through the water. The deep caverns in the ocean are his footprints.
This beautiful maid was Sipgnet, the goddess of the dark. She said to Ang-ngalo, "I am tired of my dark palace in heaven. You are a great builder. What I want you to do for me is to erect a great mansion on this spot. This mansion must be built of bricks as white as snow."
Ang-ngalo could not find any bricks as white as snow: the only white thing there was then was salt. So he went for help to Asin, the ruler of the kingdom of Salt. Asin gave him pure bricks of salt, as white as snow. Then Ang-ngalo built hundreds of bamboo bridges across the ocean. Millions of men were employed day and night transporting the white bricks from one side of the ocean to the other. At last the patience of Ocean came to an end: she could not bear to have her deep and quiet slumber disturbed. One day, while the men were busy carrying the salt bricks across the bridges, she sent forth big waves and destroyed them. The brick-carriers and their burden were buried in her deep bosom. In time the salt dissolved, and today the ocean is salty.
Note.
I know of no close analogues to this etiological myth.
The hero of the tale, Ang-ngalo, is the same as the Aolo (Angalo) mentioned in the notes to No. 3 (p. 27, footnote). Blumentritt (s.v.) writes, "Angangalo is the name of the Adam of the Ilocanos. He was a giant who created the world at the order of the supreme God."
TALE 81
WHY THE SKY IS CURVED.
Narrated by Aurelia Malvar, a Tagalog from Santo Tomas, Batangas. Her father told her the story.
Many, many years ago, when people were innocent, as soon as they died, their souls went directly to heaven. In a short time heaven was crowded with souls, because nearly every one went there. One day, while God was sitting on his throne, he felt it moved by some one. On looking up, he saw that the souls were pushing towards him, because the sky was about to fall. At once he summoned five angels, and said to them, "Go at once to the earth, and hold up the sky with your heads until I can have it repaired." Then God called together all his carpenters, and said to them, "Repair the heavens as soon as possible."
The work was done; but it happened that the tallest angel was standing in the centre of the group; and so, ever since, the sky has been curved.
Why the Sky is High.
Narrated by Deogracias Lutero of Janiuay, Iloilo. He says that the story is often heard in his barrio.
In olden days the sky was low,--so low that it could be reached by a stick of ordinary length. The people in those days said that God had created the sky in such a way that he could hear his people when they called to him. In turn, God could send his blessings to earth as soon as men needed them. Because of this close connection between God and his subjects, the people were well-provided for, and they did not need to work. Whenever they wanted to eat, they would simply call God. Before their request was made, almost, the food would be on the table; but after the expulsion of Adam and Eve, God made men work for their own living. With this change in their condition came the custom of holding feasts, when the men would rest from their labors.
One day one of the chiefs, Abing by name, held a feast. Many people came to enjoy it. A sayao, or native war-dance, was given in honor of the men belonging to the chief, and it was acted by men brandishing spears. While acting, one of the actors, who was drunk, tried to show his skill, but he forgot that the sky was so low. When he darted his spear, he happened to pierce the sky, and one of the gods was wounded. This angered God the Father: so he raised the sky as we have it to-day, far from the earth.
Notes.
I have come across no variants of the Tagalog story of why the sky is curved.
Our second story, however, "Why the Sky is High," is without doubt a Malayan tradition, as analogues from the Bagobos and the Pagan tribes of Borneo attest. Miss Benedict (JAFL 26 : 16-17) furnishes two Bagobo myths on "Why the Sky Went Up:"--
(a) "In the beginning the sky lay low over the earth--so low that when the Mona wanted to pound their rice, they had to kneel down on the ground to get a play for the arm. Then the poor woman called Tuglibung said to the sky, 'Go up higher! Don't you see that I cannot pound my rice well?' So the sky began to move upwards. When it had gone up about five fathoms, the woman said again, 'Go up still more!' This made the sun angry at the woman, and he rushed up very high."
(b) "In the beginning the sky hung so low over the earth that the people could not stand upright, could not do their work. For this reason the man in the sky said to the sky, 'Come up!' Then the sky went up to its present place."
With Miss Benedict's first version, compare Hose and McDougall (2 : 142):--
"According to an old man of the Long Kiputs of Borneo, the stars are holes in the sky made by the roots of trees in the world above the sky projecting through the floor of that world. At one time, he explained, the sky was close to the earth, but one day Usai, a giant, when working sago with a wooden mallet, accidentally struck his mallet against the sky; since which time the sky has been far up out of the reach of man."
A different explanation of why the sky went up is current in British North Borneo. It is embodied in the story of "The Horned Owl and the Moon" (Evans, JRAI 43 : 433):--
"The moon is male and the Pwak (horned owl) is female.
"Long ago, when the sky was very low down, only a man's height from the ground, the moon and the Pwak fell in love and married. At that time there was a man whose wife was with child. The woman came down from the house, and as the heat of the sun struck her on the stomach, she became ill, for the sky was very low. Then the man was very angry because his wife was ill, and he made seven blow-pipe arrows. Early the next morning he took his blow-pipe with him and went to the place where the sun rises, and waited. Now at that time there were seven suns. When they rose, he shot six of them and left one remaining; then he went home. At the time the man shot the suns the Pwak was sitting on the house-top in the sky combing her hair. The comb fell from the sky to the ground, and the Pwak flew down to get it; but when she found it, she could no longer fly back to the sky; for, while she had been looking for the comb, the sky had risen to its present place; since, when the man had shot the six suns, the remaining sun, being frightened, ran away up into the air and took the sky with it. And so on the present day, whenever the moon comes out, the Pwak cries to it; but the moon says to it, 'What can I do, for you are down there below, while I am up here in the sky?'"
TALE 82
AN UNEQUAL MATCH; OR, WHY THE CARABAO'S HOOF IS SPLIT.
Narrated by Godofredo Rivera, a Tagalog from Pagsanjan, La Laguna.
Once a carabao and a turtle met on a road. They walked in the woods, and had a fine talk together. The turtle was a sort of humorist, and was constantly giving exhibitions of his dexterity in getting food by trickery. But he was especially anxious to win the friendship of the carabao; for he thought that, if they were friendly, this big fellow would help him whenever he got into trouble. So he said to the carabao, "Let us live together and hunt out food together! thus we shall break the monotony of our solitary lives."
But the carabao snorted when he heard this proposal; and he replied, "You slow thing! you ought to live with the drones, not with a swift and powerful person like me."
The turtle was very much offended, and to get even he challenged the carabao to a race. At first the carabao refused to accept the challenge, for he thought it would be a disgrace for him to run against a turtle. The turtle said to the carabao, "If you will not race with me, I will go to all the forests, woods, and mountains, and tell all your companions and all my friends and all the animal kingdom that you are a coward."
Now the carabao was persuaded; and he said, "All right, only give me three days to get ready for the race." The turtle was only too glad to have the contest put off for three days, for then he too would have a chance to prepare his plans. The agreement between the turtle and the carabao was that the race should extend over seven hills.
The turtle at once set out to visit seven of his friends; and, by telling them that if he could win this race it would be to the glory of the turtle kingdom, he got them to promise to help him. So the next day he stationed a turtle on the top of each hill, after giving them all instructions.
The third day came. Early the next morning the turtle and the carabao met at the appointed hill. At a given signal the race began, and soon the runners lost sight of each other. When the carabao reached the second hill, he was astonished to see the turtle ahead of him, shouting, "Here I am!" After giving this yell, the turtle at once disappeared. And at every hill the carabao found his enemy ahead of him. When the carabao was convinced at the seventh hill that he had been defeated, he became so angry that he kicked the turtle. On account of the hardness of its shell, the turtle was uninjured; but the hoof of the carabao was split in two, because of the force of the blow. And even to-day, the carabaos still bear the mark which an unjust action on the part of their ancestor against one whom he knew was far inferior to him in strength produced on himself.
Notes.
A Pampangan story furnished by Wenceslao Vitug of Lubao, Pampanga, runs thus in abstract:--
The Deer and the Snail.
Snail challenges deer to race, and stations his friends at intervals along the way. Every time deer stops and calls out to see where his antagonist is, a snail answers from a spot a few yards ahead of deer. At the end of the course the defeated deer falls fainting. His gall is sucked out by the snails near him. To this day snails taste bitter, and the deer has no gall.
For a similar Visayan tale see "The Snail and the Deer" (JAFL 20 : 315). A Tinguian version may be found in Cole (No. 82, p. 198).
This very widespread story is comprehensively discussed by Dähnhardt (4 : 46-97), who gives a large number of variants from all parts of the world. The Philippine forms of it may reasonably be adjudged native, I believe; at any rate, they need not have been derived from Europe.
A Borneo version (Evans, 475-476) not given in Dähnhardt may be mentioned here in conclusion. In it the plandok (mouse-deer), which has deceived and brought about the deaths of all the larger animals, agrees to tun a race with the omong (hermit-crab). The crab stations three companions at corners of the square race-course, and wins. The mouse-deer runs itself to death.
APPENDIX.
[Additional notes, chiefly in the nature of American Indian, Negro, and Sinhalese (Ceylon) variants.]
Supplementary Bibliography.
BOLTE (JOHANNES) UND POLÍVKA (GEORG). Anmerkungen zu den Kinder- und Hausmärchen der Brüder Grimm. Vol. 3 (Nos. 121-225). Leipzig, 1918.
Journal of American Folk-Lore. (Cited JAFL.)
--Boas, F. Notes on Mexican Folk-Lore (JAFL 25 : 204-260). 1912.
--Bolduc (E.), Tremblay (M.), and Barbeau (C.-M.). Contes populaires canadiens (troisième série) (JAFL 32 : 90-167). 1919.
--Bundy, R.C. Folk-Tales from Liberia (JAFL 32 : 406-427). 1919.
--Espinosa, A.M. Comparative Notes on New-Mexican and Mexican Spanish Folk-Tales (JAFL 27 : 211-231). 1914.
----New-Mexican Spanish Folk-Lore (JAFL 27 : 105-147). 1914.
----New-Mexican Spanish Folk-Lore: Folk-Tales (JAFL 24 : 397-444). 1911.
--Folk-Tales from Alabama (JAFL 32 : 397-401). 1919.
--Folk-Tales from Georgia (JAFL 32 : 402-405). 1919.
--Mason, J.A. Folk-Tales of the Tepecanos (JAFL 27 : 148-210). 1914.
--Mechling, W. H. Stories and Songs from the Southern Atlantic Coastal Region of Mexico (JAFL 29 : 547-558). 1916.
--Stories from Tuxtepec, Oaxaca (JAFL 25 : 199-203). 1912.
Parsons, E. C. Pueblo-Indian Folk-Tales, probably of Spanish Provenience (JAFL 31 : 216-255). 1918.
--Tales from Guilford County, North Carolina (JAFL 30 : 168-200). 1917.
--Recinos, Adrián. Cuentos populares de Guatemala (JAFL 31 : 472-487). 1918.
--Skinner, Alanson. European Tales from the Plains Ojibwa (JAFL 29 : 330-340). 1916.
----Plains Ojibwa Tales (JAFL 32 : 280-305). 1919.
--Speck, F.G. Malecite Tales (JAFL 30 : 479-485). 1917.
--Stewart, Sadie E. Seven Folk-Tales from the Sea Islands, South Carolina (JAFL 32 : 394-396). 1919.
--Teit, James. European Tales from the Upper Thompson Indians (JAFL 29 : 301-329). 1916.
LAIDLAW, GEORGE E. Ojibwa Myths and Tales (reprinted from the Archæological Report, 1918).
PARKER, H. Village Folk-Tales of Ceylon. London: Vol. 1, 1910; Vol. 2, 1914; Vol. 3, 1914.
PARSONS, ELSIE CLEWS. Folk-Tales of Andros Island, Bahamas (Memoirs of the American Folk-Lore Society, Vol. 13). New York, 1918. (Cited MAFLS 13.) See also under Journal of American Folk-Lore.
RADIN-ESPINOSA. El Folklore de Oaxaca, recogido por Paul Radin y publicado por Aurelio M. Espinosa (Anales de la Escuela Internacional de Arqueología y Etnología Americanas). New York, 1917.
SAUNIÈRE, S. DE. Cuentos populares araucanos y chilenos (Revista de folklore chileno, Vol. 7). Santiago de Chile, 1918.
THOMPSON, STITH. European Tales among the North American Indians (Colorado College Publication). Colorado Springs, 1919.
Supplementary Notes.
1. [109]
Dr. Boas gives the bibliography of "Dr. Know-All" in America in JAFL 25 : 151.
A Sinhalese variant may be found in Parker, 1 : 179-185 (No. 23).
2.
Page 11 (footnote). Dr. Boas informs me that petate is a Mexican-Spanish word borrowed from the Nahuatl.
Full bibliography of Grimm, No. 122 ("Donkey Cabbages") is given in Bolte-Polívka, 3 : 3-9.
In JAFL 28 : 56 is a Penobscot story containing the loss of three magic objects, transportation to a distant place, escape of princess by means of transportation-cap, discovery by hero of magic apples, punishment of princess, and the recovery of the magic objects (see Thompson, 401).
3.
Page 25 (A). For a list of Hindoo stories in which the hero is only a span high, see Parker, 2 : 256.
Page 25-26 (B1-5). In a Biloxi tale not belonging in other respects to our group, the hero's uncle puts the hero to some hard tests, hoping to make away with him (see Thompson, 376).
Page 26 (B2). The attempts to kill the hero in a well by throwing huge rocks on him are found in some of the American variants of the "Strong John" cycle. (See Thompson, 435-436, for French-Canadian and Maliseet versions.)
Page 26 (D.) In a Maliseet tale (Thompson, 340) the strong hero sets out on his travels with a giant cane that will hold fifty salted cattle.
Page 27 (E). In ten of the American Indian versions of "John the Bear" are found the extraordinary companions (see Thompson, 336-344).
Page 29. With Kakarangkang's adventure inside the crocodile, compare an Araucano story (Saunière, No. 3), in which the heroine with a knife is swallowed by the big king of fishes. She cuts her way out, saving her brother and others imprisoned.
4.
Interrupted-cooking episode. For a Negro version from Bahamas, see MAFLS 13, No. 93; also bibliography on p. 142 (footnote). In his analysis of "John the Bear" stories among the American Indians, Thompson (336-342) notes this episode in Assiniboin, Tehuano, Shoshone, Thompson River, Maliseet, Loucheux, and Micmac versions.
Bee-hive hoax. Three Mexican variants on this idea may be noted. In one (JAFL 25 : 237), rabbit pretends that the bee-hive is a school, which he permits coyote to keep. In another (ibid., 206) rabbit pretends that a wasp-nest is a cradle, and gets coyote to rock it. The third is a Cora story given in abstract by Dr. Boas (ibid., 260), which is nearest the form of the incident as found in our tales. Opossum pretends that the bee-hive is a bell which coyote is to ring when he hears the sky-rockets. In a New-Mexican Spanish story (JAFL 27 : 134-135) fox tells coyote that the bee-hive is his school humming.
5.
Parker's Sinhalese story "The Elephant-Fool" (3 : 100-111, No. 203) tells of a man who borrowed another's elephant; but the beast died before it could be returned. The borrower offers payment or another animal, but the owner will accept nothing but his own elephant alive. Through the cleverness of his wife, the borrower is able to make the obdurate man break a water-pot, and in turn demands his very water-pot back unbroken. Unable to do anything else, the owner of the elephant says that the two debts cancel each other, and goes away. Parker notes that in another Sinhalese form of this story both persons institute law-suits. He also cites a Chinese variant (p. 111).
6.
Page 51, line 41. For bibliography of Grimm, No. 183, see Bolte-Polívka, 3 : 333-335.
Parker (2 : 247-268, No. 137) gives a Sinhalese story, with three variants, which is definitely connected with our tales, and confirms my belief that the "False-Proofs" cycle is native to southern India. In Parker's main story the false proofs are five,--ass (voice), two winnowing-trays (ears), two bundles of creepers (testicles?), a tom-tom (eye), and two elephant tusks (teeth). In variant b the false proofs are drum (roar), deer-hide rope (hair), pair of elephant tusks (teeth).
For another Sinhalese story of how a man and his wife "bluffed" a terrible Yaka hiding under the bed to kill him, see Parker, 1 : 148-149 (No. 17).
7.
Page 62. Analogous to the task cited from Jataka, No. 546, is one of the problems in the Liberian story "Impossible vs. Impossible" (JAFL 32 : 413). Problem: Make a mat from rice-grains. Solution: Old rice-mat demanded as pattern.--For making rope out of husks, and analogous tasks, see Bolte-Polívka, 2 : 513.
Page 62 (3). In Parker, No. 79, a king requires a man to put a hundred gourd-fruits in a hundred small-mouthed vessels. His clever daughter grows them there. Parker cites a story from Swynnerton's Indian Night's Entertainment, in which a clever girl sends melons in jars to a prince and requires him to remove the melons without injuring them or the jars. This problem is identical with one on our p. 58 (16-17).
In still another Sinhalese story a foolish king requires a Panditaya, under penalty of death, to teach the royal white horse to speak. The wise man's daughter saves her father's life by telling him what to reply to the king (Parker, 1 : 199-200, No. 27).--In Parker, 3 : 112-113 (No. 204), a country-girl meets a prince, to whose questions she gives enigmatical replies. He is clever enough to interpret them correctly.
Page 63 (4). In Parker, 2 : 7-9 (No. 78), a king requires milk from oxen. The clever village girl's answer is of a kind with Marcela's (our collection, p. 55): she sets out for the washerman's with a bundle of cloths, is met by the king, and tells him her father has come of age in the same manner as women (i.e., he has menstruated).
8.
For stealing eggs from under bird, see Bolte-Polívka, 3 : 57-58. Bolte-Polívka's notes on Grimm, No. 192, include a discussion of both the "Master Thief" cycle (3 : 379-395) and the Rhampsinitus "Treasure-House" saga (3 : 395-406). Two Sinhalese variants of the latter cycle, lacking in Bolte-Polívka's bibliography, are Parker's No. 189 and variant (3 : 41-46). Here the thieves are father and son; son cuts off father's head to prevent identification. The stories end with the exposure of the body and the escape of the son, who falls from a tree when his mother bursts into laments at the sight of her husband's corpse.
Four American Indian versions of the "Master Thief" are analyzed by Thompson (427-429),--Maliseet, Dakota, Thompson River, Wyandot.
A Oaxaca version of the "Master Thief" is given in Radin-Espinosa, 226-227 (No. 116): it preserves a number of features of the Rhampsinitus story. Likewise a New-Mexican Spanish tale (JAFL 24 : 423-424), in which, after preliminary skill-tests, the two thieves rob the king. The Mexican thief is caught; the Spanish thief cuts off his head. The corpse, by order of the king, is carried through town, and the house of the mourner is marked with blood. The Spanish thief escapes by marking all the houses with blood. (For the bibliography of marking all the house-doors with chalk to prevent discovery, see Bolte-Polívka, 3 : 145, note.)
9.
Page 78. Not counting self. This incident occurs in a Sinhalese story (Parker, 1 : 258, No. 44). (See ibid., 259, for three variants from India and one from China.) Comparative bibliography of this motif is given in Bolte-Polívka, 3 : 149 (note 1).
Page 78. Killing fly on face. Sinhalese (Parker, 1 : 319-321, No. 58): The stupid hero strikes with a rice-pestle at a fly on his mother's head, and kills her. Wyandot (Thompson, 423): The numskull hero hits the head of a sleeping child to kill mosquito, and kills child. Ojibwa (Laidlaw, 63): Flies on baby's head "killed" with rubber boot.
10.
Page 87. Add to the bibliography of the "Magic Ring" cycle three American forms of the story,--French-Canadian, Micmac, and Maliseet (analyzed by Thompson, 398-399).
An interesting Sinhalese version is Parker's No. 208 (3 : 127-131). Here a lazy prince buys a cobra, parrot, and cat. From the snake-king he receives a ring by means of which he can create anything he wants. He creates a palace and a princess. The princess and ring are stolen by an old woman acting as agent for a king who came to know of the beautiful princess (hair floating down-stream). Through the aid of his faithful animals, especially the cat, which coerces the king of the rats, the hero recovers his wife and magic object. (See also Parker's extensive notes [131-135] for other Oriental versions.)
11.
Page 114. See Bolte-Polívka, 3 : 483-486, for notes on Grimm's fragment "The Louse." Bolte and Polívka (3 : 84-85) give brief notes on Grimm, No. 134, mostly in the nature of addenda to their notes on Grimm, No. 71, with which this story is closely related.
Three American Indian variants of Grimm, No. 71, are analyzed by Thompson (346-347).
For a Negro version from the Bahamas, see MAFLS 13, No. 20.
12.
Page 125, line 21. For "Diego and Juan" read "Diego and Pedro."
Page 128, note 3. Dr. Farnham presents a fuller and more recent study of the cycle of the "Contending Lovers" in Publications of the Modern Language Association, 28 (1920): 247-323.
Page 128. Full bibliographical treatment of our Type I, the "Creation of Woman," may be found in Bolte-Polívka, 3 : 53-57.
Page 133. Bibliography of Grimm, No. 124, will be found in Bolte-Polívka, 3 : 10-12; of Grimm, No. 129, ibid., 45-58. Bolte and Polívka are of the opinion that Grimm, Nos. 71, 124, and 129, are all related (3 : 45).
A New-Mexican Spanish variant of Grimm, No. 129 (JAFL 24 : 411-414), tells of three brothers sent out to learn trades. One becomes a carpenter; another, a silversmith; and the third, a thief. They are tested by the king, who is satisfied that they have learned their trades well. A Negro version from the Bahamas (MAFLS 13 : 43-44, No. 23) tells of four brothers who went out and became skilled (tailor, robber, thief, archer). Skill-test with egg (stealing from nest, shooting it into four parts, stitching egg together, replacing under bird). Rescue of princess stolen by dragon (stitching planks of shattered ship together).
Very close to the Bahamas tale, except in the dénouement, is a Sinhalese story (Parker, 2 : 33 ff., No. 82). Four princes set out to learn sciences: the first learns sooth; the second, theft; the third, archery; the fourth, carpentry. They are tested by their father the king (stealing egg from crow, cutting it with arrow, repairing it, and restoring it to nest). They then search for and bring back the queen, who had been stolen by a Rakshasa. They then quarrel as to who should have the sovereignty. In variant a (ibid., 36-39) a nobleman's five sons learn sciences (soothsayer, marksman, thief, runner, physician) and jointly restore a dead princess to life. In variant b (39-42) seven princes become skilled. In variant c four Brahmans learn sciences to win the hand of a princess, and afterwards restore her to life. As they cannot settle their quarrel, they all give her up. (For other versions, see Parker, 2 : 43-45, 157-159 [No. 109]).
Page 136, line 31. For "Tagic" read "Jagic."
13.
In a Oaxaca story (Radin-Espinosa, 249-250, No. 137) a rich compadre tries with no success to advance the fortunes of his poor compadre, and comes to the conclusion that he who is born to be poor will always be poor.
14 b.
A Oaxaca version of "The Thief and his Master," with the transformation-combat detail, is given in Radin-Espinosa, 240 (No. 131). An analogous story has also been recorded by F. Boas at Zuñi.
Three Sinhalese versions of "The Magician and his Pupil" may be found in Parker, 3 : 400-407 (No. 266). Many other Oriental variants are given in abstract in the notes to these stories (ibid., 408-410).
15.
In JAFL 31 : 480-481 is given a Guatemala droll which is clearly derived from the Arabian Nights form of our story.
For additional bibliography of the tricky thief who pretends he had been transformed into the ass which he has just stolen from the simple peasant, see Bolte-Polívka, 3 : 9. Related to this motif are two Oriental tales given in abstract by Parker (3 : 205-206).
17.
Page 161. Identical with our first task is one found in a Oaxaca version (Radin-Espinosa, 223, No. 112). No. 109 in this same collection is a variant of "John the Bear." An excellent New-Mexican Spanish version of "John the Bear" is given by Espinosa (JAFL 24 : 437-444). (For American Indian versions of this cycle, see Thompson, 336-344.)
Page 165. For comparative bibliography of the "Forgotten Betrothed" cycle, see Bolte-Polívka, 2 : 516-527 (on Grimm, No. 113) ; for American versions of the tasks and magic flight, MAFLS 13 : 54 n2; and for American Indian versions of this cycle as a whole. Thompson, 370-381. In only four of the twenty Indian stories analyzed, however, does the incident of the forgetting of his fiancée by the hero occur.
The first part of the "Forgotten Betrothed" cycle is found in an Araucano story (Saunière, No. 9), in which the hero takes service with a supernatural being, falls in love with his daughter, performs two difficult tasks and answers three questions, and flees with her in a transformation-flight that ends with the death of the pursuer.
In a Negro story from Bahamas (MAFLS 13 : No. 27) are found the tasks, magic-flight, and forgotten-betrothed elements.
18.
Our story is closely related to Grimm, No. 82 a (see Bolte-Polívka, 2 : 190-196, for text), a story derived from Musäus. Grimm, No. 197 (Bolte-Polívka, 3 : 424-443), is also related. Thompson (410) cites a Micmac version that agrees with ours in its main outlines,--a version which he believes goes back to a French original. A very brief Kutenai version is given in Boas, "Kutenai Tales" (Bulletin 59, Bureau of American Ethnology), p. 34.
19.
See Bolte-Polívka's notes on Grimm, No. 108 (2 : 234 ff.).
20.
Page 196. The following American Indian variants of motifs found in our stories are analyzed by Thompson (419-426):--
Fatal imitation (G1): Maliseet (wife), Ojibwa, Dakota, Zuñi.
Substitute for execution (H): Maliseet, Ojibwa, Wyandot, Thompson River, Dakota, Tepecano, Creek, Yuchi, Jicarilla Apache, Pochulta, Chalina, Aztec, Tuxtepec.
Marine cattle (J): Micmac, Maliseet, Ojibwa, Thompson River, Dakota, Tepecano.
Frightening robbers under tree (F5): Micmac, Maliseet, Wyandot, Ojibwa (for Ojibwa see also Laidlaw, 196).
For a Negro (Bahamas) variant of G1, see MAFLS 13, No. 41; of F5, ibid., No. 46. In a Oaxaca story, "Los Dos Compadres" (Radin-Espinosa, 198-199, No. 101), one compadre frightens a band of robbers unwittingly and acquires treasure (sale-of-ashes incident). Then follows the incident of the borrowed measure returned with coins adhering, whereupon the rich compadre tries to "sell ashes," and is killed by the robbers. For bibliography of the motif coins sticking to borrowed measure, see Bolte-Polívka, 1 : 520; 2 : 6; 3 : 143 n.
The incident of frightening robbers under tree appears to be characteristic of the Pedro di Urdemales group (see JAFL 27 : 119-134, especially 125, 133). For the sack-by-sea episode in the same story, see ibid., 134.
To Bolte-Polívka's bibliography of Grimm, No. 61, should be added a Sinhalese version (Parker, 2 : 116-119, No. 101), which contains the rejuvenating-cudgel, sack-by-sea, and marine-cattle motifs.
21.
Page 206. In a Oaxaca story (Radin-Espinosa, 246, No. 134) closely related to our No. 21, a king sentences a gentleman to death for having said, "El que tiene dinero hace lo que quiere." This sentiment is almost identical with that found in the Sicilian story by Pitrè. In both, too, the device by means of which the hero discovers the hidden princess is a golden eagle which gives forth beautiful music.
In a New-Mexican Spanish version (JAFL 27 : 135-137) the hero gains access to the princess by means of a bronze eagle.
23.
Page 213. In a New-Mexican Spanish story (JAFL 27 : 128) one of the adventures of Pedro di Urdemales is to make a pact with the Devil in return for much money. In hell he wins his freedom by sticking the demons to their chairs with varnish and then frightening them with a cross. This version seems nearly related to our story. In a Tepecano tale of the same hero (ibid., 171) Pedro frightens and beats devils with a holy palm-leaf.
24.
Page 221. Add to Benfey's Oriental versions a Sinhalese story by Parker (2 : 288-291, No. 141). Parker analyzes three other Hindoo variants which should be noted.
Page 222. Parker, No. 252 (3 : 339-341), "How Maraya was put in the Bottle," is a close variant of Grimm, No. 44. Death is finally outwitted by the hero, who persuades him to creep into a bottle to demonstrate that he had been able to enter a closed room through a keyhole. Thereafter all the hero has to do to cure a sick person is to place the bottle at his head! This detail of enclosing a demon in a bottle is found in Caballero's story.
In another Sinhalese story (Parker, 3 : 185-186, No. 222) a water-snake, pleased by a beggar's actions, promises to make him rich by creeping up the trunk of the king's tusk elephant and making the animal mad. The beggar "cures" the elephant when he tells the snake to leave, and becomes wealthy.
27.
Thompson (413-414) cites two American Indian stories, Penobscot and Maliseet, which open with the obtaining of a gold-dropping horse from an old man because of kindness, the loss of it at an inn at the bands of a rascally landlord, and the recovery of the animal through the generous use of a magic cudgel. The remainder of the two stories is connected with the last part of the "Golden Goose" cycle (Grimm, No. 64).
Page 237. To the East Indian variants of this story add Parker, No. 97 (2 : 101-104), in which an indigent man who frightens a Yaka obtains from the demon a magic self-filling plate, a ring which when sold will always return to its owner, and a gold-dropping cow. These are stolen from him on successive days by a Hettiyä, and worthless imitations substituted. Then the Yaka gives the hero a magic cudgel, with which he regains his magic articles. (See Parker, ibid., 104-105, for other Oriental versions.)
29.
Page 247. A Sinhalese story, "The Mouse Maiden" (Parker, 1 : 308 f., No. 54), tells of a princess in the form of a mouse who was married to a prince. Her permanent disenchantment is brought about by the burning of her mouse-jacket. Similarly in No. 223 (Parker, 3 : 187-188) the youngest of seven princes is married to a female hare, which is permanently disenchanted when her husband burns her hare-skin. This story and another cited by Parker, in which the youngest of seven princes married a female monkey who in the end proved to be a fairy and took off her monkey-skin (Chilli: Folk Tales of Hindustan, 54), appear to be related to the Indian Märchen cited by Benfey (1 : 251).
For other tales of animal-marriages with transformation, see Parker, Nos. 151, 207 (turtle), No. 163 (snake), No. 164 (lizard), No. 165 (frog); without transformation, No. 158 (bear), No. 159 (leopard).
30.
A Sinhalese variant of the "Chastity-Wager" story is Parker, No. 149 (2 : 334-336).
33.
In a French-Canadian version (JAFL 32 : 161-163), while a jealous hunchback is away from home, three other hunchbacks (unrelated to the husband) apply to the wife for food. While they are eating, she sees her husband returning. She hides her three guests in a chest, where they are smothered. The remainder of the story is regular.
35.
Page 278. Our story appears to be related to some of the variants of Grimm, No. 22, though there is little resemblance between it and the German story itself. Compare, however, an Ojibwa tale (JAFL 29 : 337), in which a princess is offered in marriage to whoever can propose a riddle she cannot solve (in our story it is the hero who must give the answer to the princess's riddle). On his way to court, the hero receives magic objects. He successfully outriddles his opponent, but is put in prison. He wins release and the princess's hand by means of the magic objects. (See Thompson, 415-416.)
36.
Page 283. A New-Mexican Spanish variant of "Juan Tiñoso" (JAFL 24 : 403-408) combines features from "John the Bear."
Page 284. The "Iron Hans" cycle (Grimm, No. 136) Bolte and Polívka (3 : 97) outline as follows:--
(A1) A prince sets free a wild man, Iron Hans, whom his father has captured; (A2) the prince flees from the machinations of his hostile or wanton step-mother; (A3) the wild man bestows on a childless couple a son, who, however, after a definite term, must be surrendered to him.
(B) While with Iron Hans, whose orders he disobeys, the boy acquires golden halt, and (B1) is either forgiven and restored to favor, or (B2) escapes on a talking horse.
(C) After covering his gold hair with a hat or cloth, he takes service as a gardener at a king's palace, where the princess falls in love with him.
(D) At a tournament he appears three times on a magnificent horse that Iron Hans has furnished him with, and he gains the hand of the king's daughter.
(E) He manifests his nobility as victor in a combat, as a dragon-killer, as a bringer of a cure for the sick king (cf. No. 97), or on a hunt, where he disgraces his mocking brothers-in-law.
(F) Iron Hans or the helpful horse is disenchanted.
For American Indian variants of the "Iron Hans" cycle, see Thompson, 350-357.
Page 284, line 3. For throwing of apples to intended husbands, see Bolte-Polívka, 2 : 381; 3 : 111.
Line 16. For the branding of the brothers-in-law, see Grimm, Nos. 59, 91, 97; also Bolte-Polívka, 3 : 114 (note 1).
Juan Tiñoso means John the Scabby. Two French versions have exactly the same title, "Jean le Teignous" and "Jean le Tigneux" (Bolte-Polívka, 3 : 99). A somewhat distant Sinhalese relative of "Juan Tiñoso," in which the hero is a turtle, is Parker, No. 151 (2 : 345-352).
In an Osage Indian story occurs the release of an imprisoned monster by a boy (Thompson, 331).
38.
Page 288. For bibliography of the question "How much is the king worth?" see Bolte-Polívka, 3 : 232. The Negrito's counter-demand to the king's third task (i.e., drink all the fresh water) is identical with the counter-demand to the task of counting the drops in the sea (ibid., 3 : 231).
Page 291. Bolte and Polívka (3 : 214) emphasize the fact of the mutual borrowing of incidents by this cycle and the "Clever Lass" cycle.
Two Sinhalese stories not unlike our No. 38 are given by Parker,--"The Three Questions" (1 : 150-152), "The Four Difficult Questions" (153-154).
40.
Page 299, "Pitong." In a Oaxaca story (Radin-Espinosa, 204, No. 104) occur the abandoned-children opening, corn-trail, fruit-trail, ogre's house, advice of rat, ogre pushed in oven. A Chile version of "Le Petit Poucet" is "Piñoncito" (Saunière, 262). The following American Indian versions are noticed by Thompson (361-365): Thompson River (3), Shuswap (2), Ojibwa, Maliseet, Ponka, Bellacoola, Mewan, Uintah Ute.
45.
For a Negro (Bahamas) version of "Cinderella," see MAFLS 13, No. 17; for American Indian versions, Thompson, 384-385.
47.
Compare a Negro story from the Bahamas (MAFLS 13, No. 14); also a Sinhalese tale, "The Roll of Cotton" (Parker, 1 : 364-366, No. 69), in which the two women are sisters.
48.
Two Hindoo (Sinhalese) versions of the "Puss-in-Boots" cycle are Parker, No. 49 (1 : 278-283) and No. 235 (3 : 243-248). These are of extreme importance in trying to establish the provenience of our stories: for in both the helpful animal is a monkey; both contain the incident of the borrowed measure, the incident of the killing of the demon by the monkey (obscure but unmistakable in No. 49) and the claiming of the monster's palace as his master's; in both the monkey marries his master to a king's daughter. These two stories differ from ours in the conclusion: the master proves ungrateful, and the faithful monkey runs off into the forest. Again, too, in the opening, these two Sinhalese stories differ from ours: the monkey's gratitude is not motivated; the animal is not a thieving animal, hence there is no tar-baby device.
Page 336, Tar-Baby. For the distribution of the "Tar-Baby" story among the American Indians, see Boas (JAFL 25 : 249), supplemented by Thompson (444-446). For Negro versions, see MAFLS 13 : Nos. 10, 11, 12; JAFL 30 : 171, 222; Thompson, 440. Other American versions are Mexico (JAFL 29 : 549); Guatemala (JAFL 31 : 472 f.); Oaxaca (Radin-Espinosa, 120-121, 183, 197; JAFL 25 : 200, 201, 235-236).
49.
In a Sinhalese noodle-story the foolish hero joins a band of thieves and tries to steal a millstone, wakening the owner of the house and asking him for assistance (Parker, 2 : 70-75, No. 90). In another tale in the same collection, No. 57 (1 : 317-318), a gang of robbers steal a devil-dancer's box. While they are sleeping, one of their number, a fool, puts on the costume. They awake, think he is the Devil, and flee, the fool pursuing and calling, "Stay there! stay there!" This story is like our "Juan and the Robbers" (348-349). Compare also the story cited by Parker on p. 318.
50.
Since writing the notes to No. 50, I have found a Sinhalese version of the "Hat-pays-landlord" story which is essentially the same as ours, only a three-cornered hat, not a painted one, is the hoax. The motive of the hero's trick is his desire for revenge on three sharpers who have cozened him out of a bull which they pretend is a goat (Parker, 3 : 200-205, No. 226). For this last situation, compare our No. 15 and notes.
53.
In the Sinhalese "Story of the Bitch" (Parker, 3 : 102-104, No. 201) a bitch gives birth to two princesses, who marry princes. Later the elder daughter drives her dog-mother away when it seeks to visit her, but the younger treats it kindly. The elder daughter is killed by a cobra-bite because of her avariciousness. This version is nearly related to Miss Frere's old Deccan story.
54.
In the latter part of a long Sinhalese story (Parker, No. 145) a king conceives a passion for the hero's wife, and resorts to the same ruse as the wicked datu in our story,--underground tunnel, and letter to parents in the underworld. The hero escapes by means of a cross-tunnel, returns with marvellous raiment (provided by heroine) and news that the king's father and mother are happy. The avaricious king makes the same trip, and is destroyed. Parker, No. 146 (2 : 313-314), contains almost the identical situation.
55.
Page 371 (E). Probably the earliest literary version of the drowning-turtle motif (undoubtedly the prototype of the brier-patch punishment) is Buddhistic: Jataka, No. 543. This motif occurs in a Sinhalese story otherwise wholly unrelated to the cycle of which this punishment is usually a part (Parker, No. 150, 2 : 339-340; see also 343-344).
For additional bibliography of the brier-patch punishment, in many of the American Indian versions of which the turtle or tortoise is substituted for the rabbit, see Thompson, 446-447; JAFL 31 : 229 (note). Thompson (440) also lists some American Negro variants.
Page 372. With Jataka, No. 273, compare a Negro story from the Bahamas (MAFLS 13 : 92, No. 45, II). Skinner (JAFL 32 : 295-297) gives an Ojibwa story in which occurs the "drowning" of the turtle and the biting-off of otter's testicles by the turtle. This second detail appears reminiscent of the turtle's revenge discussed on our pp. 372-373.
56.
Page 379. Some American versions of the house-answering-owner episode are the following: Oaxaca (Radin-Espinosa, 184-185; 194, rabbit and coyote; JAFL 25 : 208, rabbit and crocodile); Chile (JAFL 26 : 248, a curious modification of the motif); Mexico (JAFL 29 : 552). In another Mexican story we find the episode of the rabbit crossing the river on the crocodile's back (JAFL 29 : 551-552).
In a Sinhalese story of "The Crocodile and the Jackal" (Parker, 1 : 380-381, No. 75), the crocodile shams dead. Jackal says, "In our country dead crocodiles wag their tails." (This appears to me a variant of the house-answering-owner motif.) Later follows the incident of the seizure of the foot of the jackal, who pretends crocodile has hold of a root. (See also Parker, No. 36 [1 : 235 f.] for deceptions turtle practises on jackal.)
57.
Page 381. A Oaxaca story (Radin-Espinosa, 190, No. 94) combines an account of a war between the animals and the winged creatures (animals defeated) with a race between the lion and the cricket.
59.
American versions of the let-me-take-your-place motif are numerous: Oaxaca (Radin-Espinosa, 121, 153, 183, 185, 197; JAFL 25 : 201, 236); Mexico (JAFL 29 : 550); Tepecano (JAFL 27 : 162); Negro (JAFL 32 : 400, 402; MAFLS 13 : Nos. 12, 33, 39).
60.
The following American forms of the accumulative story may be noted: Guatemala (JAFL 31 : 482-483); Mexico (JAFL 25 : 219 f.); Oaxaca (Radin-Espinosa, 195, No. 99); New-Mexican Spanish (JAFL 27 : 138); Tepecano (JAFL 27 : 175). See also Thompson, 453-454. The stories resemble ours only in general method, not at all in detail. For discussion and abstracts of some South American variants that are closer to our form than are those of Central and North America, see Boas (JAFL 25 : 352-353 and notes).
A curious Sinhalese accumulative story, No. 251 in Parker's collection (3 : 336-338), tells how, when some robbers were apprehended for digging into the king's palace and were sentenced, they replied that the mason who made the walls was at fault, not they. The mason accused his lime-mixer; the lime-mixer, a beautiful woman for having distracted his attention; the woman, a goldsmith. The goldsmith is condemned, but by a ruse succeeds in getting a wholly innocent fat-bellied Mohammedan trader executed in his place. Parker abstracts a similar story from southern India (p. 338). (See also his No. 28 [1 : 201-205] for another kind of "clock-story" nearer the type of "The Old Woman and her Pig.")
61.
Page 392. Parker's No. 107 (2 : 146-149) is an elaboration of Jataka, No. 374. (For other Oriental variants of this theme, see ibid., 149-150.)
71.
For a Negro version of a flight-contest (not etiological) between a crow and a pigeon, see MAFLS 13 : No. 53.
79.
The Upper Thompson Indians have a story of how the raven and the crow were sent out after the Flood to find land. They did not return, but fed on the corpses of the drowned people. For this reason they were transformed into birds of black color, where formerly they were white-skinned (JAFL 29 : 329).
82.
For bibliography of the relay-race motif among the American Indians see Boas (JAFL 25 : 249; Thompson, 448-449). Thompson cites fourteen American Indian versions, in all but two of which the winner is the turtle. In one, the clever animal is a gopher; in the other, a frog. For American Negro variants, see Thompson, 441; JAFL 31 : 221 (note 2); JAFL 32 : 394. In a Negro version from Bahamas (MAFLS 13 : No. 54), horse and conch race; horse is defeated, and kicks the little conches to death (cf. the ending of our No. 82). For a Mexican version (rabbit and toad) see JAFL 25 : 214-215; for Oaxaca (toad and deer), Radin-Espinosa, 193.
In an Araucano story (Saunière, No. XI) the race between the fox and the crawfish does not assume the relay form.
NOTES
[1] I am greatly indebted to Professor E. Arsenio Manuel, Department of Anthropology, University of the Philippines, for biographical and other data with regard to Dean S. Fansler. Mr. E. D. Hester kindly furnished additional details.
[2] A common nickname for "Juan," equivalent to the English "Jack."
[3] Datu, old native name for "village chieftain."
[4] Casco, a commodious wooden cargo-boat commonly used in rivers and propelled by poling.
[5] Carabao, a gray water-buffalo used throughout the Archipelago as a draught-animal.
[6] The usual means of getting into a native grass house is a bamboo ladder.
[7] This is a common Tagalog expression, and means, "I consider that you are all inferior to me in every respect."
[8] Petate (Sp.-Mexican), a sleeping-mat made of woven straw.
[9] Cavan, a dry measure used in the Philippines, equal to about 75 quarts.
[10] Bolo, a cutlass-like knife used by the natives either for agricultural or war purposes.
[11] The usual Filipino salute of respect for parents or grandparents.
[12] This name literally means, "only one palasan [a large plant of llana]." The hero was so called because he was the strongest man in his town.
[13] So called because he used as a cane (Tag. tungkod) the large cylindrical piece of iron used for crushing sugarcane (Tag. bola).
[14] Literally, "one who can overturn a mountain."
[15] For the "Fee-fi-fo-fum" phrase in folk-tales, see Bolte-Polívka, 1 : 289-292.
[16] Literally, "without fear, fearless."
[17] Paridis may possibly be identified with Paderes, the strong man whom Rodrigo de Villas (the Cid) meets in the woods, who uproots a huge tree with which to fight the hero, but who is finally overcome. Paderes and Rodrigo become fast friends. This character occupies a prominent place in the metrical romance entitled "Rodrigo de Villas," which has been printed in the Pampango, Ilocano, Tagalog, and Bicol dialects. Aolo may be a corruption of Afigalo, represented in Ilocano saga as a great fisherman. Many legends told to-day by the Ilocanos in connection with the Abra River, in northern Luzon, centre about the heroic Afigalo.
[18] Aba! a very common exclamation of surprise. It sometimes expresses disgust.
[19] We seem here to have a myth element explaining why the Negrito's hair is kinky. See notes for definition of pugut.
[20] The root pugut is found in many of the dialects, and has two distinct meanings: (1) "a Negro or Negrito of the mountains;" (2) "decapitated, or with the hands or feet cut off." Among the Tagalogs, Bicols, and Visayans, the word is not used to designate a night-appearing demon or monster. Tag. cafre, which is equivalent to Iloc. pugut, is Spanish for Kaffir. Blumentritt defines cafre thus: "Nombre árabe (kafir), importado por los Españoles ó Portugueses; lo dan los campesinos Tagalos de la provincia de Tayabas á un duende antropófago, al que no gusta la sal. En las provincias Ilocanas denominan asi los Españoles al Pugot."
Speaking of the demons and spirits of northern India, W. Crooke writes (1 : 138) that "some of the Bhût [= pugut ?], like the Kâfari [= cafre ?], the ghost of a murdered Negro, are black, and are particularly dreaded."
[21] For full translation, see Jataka, ed. by E. B. Cowell (Cambridge University Press, 1895), 2 : 207-215; and FLJ 3 : 337 f. See also C. H. Tawney's discussion of the story in the Journal of Philology, 12 : 112-119.
[22] Camisa china, a thin native coat-shirt worn outside the trousers.
[23] Patianac, mischievous birth-spirits that live in the woods and fields, and lead travellers astray at night.
[24] Pagui, the sting-ray, or skate-fish. Its tail is very efficacious against evil spirits and witches, according to native belief.
[25] Tuba. a wine distilled from the coco and other palm trees.
[26] Typhoon (Ar. tufan), a wind of cyclonic force and extraordinary violence.
[27] Literally, "Give us here in the ceiling some good food."
[28] Manglalabas, literally, "the one who appears;" i.e., apparition.
[29] Barrio, a small collection of houses forming a kind of suburb to a town.
[30] Mangkukulam, an old woman endowed with the powers of a witch.
[31] Paragos, a kind of rude, low sledge drawn by carabaos and used by farmers.
[32] Pipit, a tiny bird.
[33] Why peso, I cannot say. A hole the size of a peso would accommodate a rope, but hardly a man or a large tub. The story is clearly imperfect in many respects.
[34] Mankukulam, see note 1, p. 53.
[35] As Mr. Gardner notes, a chap-book form of "Aladdin" exists in Tagalog. The full title of my copy runs thus (in translation): "The Wonderful story of Aladin, who got possession of the Marvelous Lamp, and of his Marriage with the Princess of China the Great. Manila, 1901. (Pp. 127.)" W. Retana, in his "Aparato Bibliográfico" (Madrid, 1906), cites an edition before 1898 (see item No. 4161). The story has also been printed in the Pampango, Ilocano, Bicol, and Visayan dialects.
[36] From the Spanish corredor ("runner").
[37] From the Spanish mirador ("seer, gazer").
[38] A Tagalog boys' game played in the streets, with lines marked off by water (tubig).
[39] From the Spanish puntador ("gunner").
[40] From the Spanish cargador ("carrier").
[41] From the Spanish soplador ("ventilator, blower").
[42] From the Spanish oidor ("hearer"). These six proper names are given here exactly as they appear in the original narrative. Strictly speaking, they are not derivatives from the Spanish: they merely suggest the Spanish words from which they have been coined as patronymics.
[43] Tuma, Tagalog, Pampangan, and Malayan for "louse."
[44] Perhaps from the Spanish conocer ("to know, understand"). For the names of the other companions, see footnotes to the preceding tale.
[45] In Spanish this word means "witch, sorceress."
[46] Whether or not these powers reside in the men themselves, who have acquired them through practice, or in magic objects which they find or are presented with. Benfey (loc. cit., p. 969) makes two distinct cycles on an entirely different basis from mine, both derived from India: the one telling of the extraordinary endowments of men; the other, of extraordinary properties of objects (i.e., magic objects). It seems to me a mistake, however, to make a cycle of this second group, for magic articles are only machinery in a story. A family of folk-tales cannot turn merely on things; the magic objects are only latently powerful until guided and controlled by the human hero.
[47] For example, "The Grateful Dead," "John the Bear," "The Child and the Hand," "The Ransomed Woman," etc.
[48] The most recent investigation of this cycle that I know of is that of W. E. Farnham in connection with the sources of Chaucer's "Parlement of Foules" (in Publications of the Modem Language Association, 32 : 502-513 [1917]). Dr. Farnham has named the cycle "The Contending Lovers," the stories of which, he says, fall into six clearly marked types. My discussion of the cycle may require some modification in the light of his study; but I have printed it here as I wrote it, some two years before Dr. Farnham's article came to my notice.
[49] For practically this identical judgment, see the Dsanglun (St. Petersburg, 1843), p. 94 (cited by Benfey, 1 : 396, note 2).
[50] Tag. for "rich."
[51] Tag. for "poor."
[52] A native dug-out or canoe.
[53] A Spanish word meaning "a woman who keeps a little shop or store [tienda]."
[54] Cañamo, ordinarily a kind of coarse cloth made from hemp. Here the word probably means the thread from which hempen ropes are made.
[55] Darak, "bran, shorts, chaff."
[56] Mungo. a small legume about the size and shape of a lentil. Same as mongo.
[57] Carreton, a heavy two-wheeled springless cart drawn by a carabao.
[58] Hacienda, a ranch of considerable extent. The fact of Pedro's living at some distance from the doctor might account for the success of the ruse.
[59] Chupa, a measure, equal roughly to about four handfuls of raw rice.
[60] Camotes, sweet potatoes.
[61] Mongo, a variety of legume slightly smaller than the lentil (same as mungo).
[62] This episode is found in a Tagalog folk-tale collected by Gardner (JAFL 20 : 304). This folk-tale, it might be noted, is based directly on a corrido, The Story of the Life of Doña Maria of Murcia, Manila, 1909. The romance has been printed in Pampango and Tagalog. Retana (No. 4166) mentions an edition between 1860 and 1898, and one dated 1901 (No. 4307).
[63] I have the text and a complete English paraphrase of a Tagalog metrical romance which combines incidents from this story with incidents from "The Adarna Bird" (supra). The romance is entitled "The Story of the Life of King Don Luis, his Three Sons, and Queen Mora. Manila 1906." Retana (Nos. 4190, 4362) cites editions 1860-98 and 1902. This story contains the quest for the water of healing, the two hermits, the flight on the eagle's back, the sleeping enchanted queen, the stolen favor and the theft of the slipper, the ransoming of the two older brothers, their treachery, the hero disguised as servant in his father's palace, the invasion by the magic queen and her recovery of her lover the hero. This story is closely related to Groome No. 55. Compare also Groome's summary of Vernaleken's Austrian story of the "Accursed Garden" (p. 232), which in some respects resembles this Filipino romance more closely than does the Gypsy tale.
[64] These were the leaves of a plant which the Tagalogs call Colis (see note 2, p. 285).
[65] Tulisanes, highway robbers or bandits.
[66] Salop, a dry measure of about fifteen centimetres cube.
[67] Carreton, a heavy two-wheeled springless cart.
[68] Sirena, a beautiful enchantress, half woman and half fish, who was supposed to dwell in certain rivers. This belief is fairly common in La Laguna province, especially in the town of Pagsanjan.
[69] One of the most common Tagalog proverbs.
[70] Novena, a devotion consisting of prayers held for nine consecutive days and asking for some special favor.
[71] Novenario, the act of performing or holding a novena.
[72] There seems to be an inconsistency here,--Clara was the mother of Idó,--or, if not an inconsistency (there might be two Claras), at least a useless and confusing repetition of names.
[73] Cintas, a holy belt worn by women.
[74] See note 1 on pagui ("sting-ray"), p. 43.
[75] Guachinango, defined by the narrator as "vagabond." The word is used in Cuba as a nickname for the natives of Mexico.
[76] While the term duende is Spanish, the other three spirits mentioned--tigbalang, iki, mananangal--are good old native demons.
[77] See footnote 1, p. 217.
[78] Same as the Cuban isabelina.
[79] The episode of a mutual cure being effected by a blind man and a lame man, we have already met with in two of the versions of our No. 6.
[80] It may be noted, in passing, that among certain of the Tagalogs the pestilence (cholera particularly) is personified as an old woman dressed in black, who goes about the town at night knocking for admittance. If any one pays attention to her summons, the result is fatal to him. This evil spirit is known as salut.
[81] That is, "Purse, spit money from your throat!"
[82] Compadre and comadre, the godfather and godmother of one's child.
[83] That is, "Goat, leap about!"
[84] That is, "Table, spread yourself!"
[85] That is, "Cane, whip!"
[86] (Spanish) "At him, cudgel!"
[87] Capitan. In the Philippines this word is used as a title of address to a justice of the peace (gobernadorcillo). It is also used to designate the office itself.
[88] "Golden," in this story, does not mean merely "of the color of gold," but also "made of gold."
[89] Banca, a native dug-out.
[90] Boroka, apparently a corruption of the Spanish bruja ("witch").
[91] Coles,--Memecylon edule Roxb. (Melastomata taceæ), a common and widely distributed shrub in the forests, with small purple flowers and small black or purple berries. It is found in the Indo-Malayan region generally.
[92] For this very old symbol of beauty and noble lineage, see Prato, Zeitschrift für Volkskunde, 5 : 376; 6 : 28.
[93] Mangrove tree.
[94] The Filipinos have many mocking children's rhymes making fun of personal deformities, such as pock-marks, cross-eyes, very black skin, etc. They always raise a laugh when recited.
[95] The Arabian story, I believe, is well worth study in connection with the theory of the Buddhistic origin of this cycle. The rôle of the ape; the conflict between the good and bad jinn, the ape belonging with the latter group; and the narrator's statement, "All this I have received from the bounty of God, whose name be exalted!"--suggest at the base of this version the struggle between Buddhism and Mohammedanism; with Mohammedanism triumphant, of course.
[96] Bayluhan (from the Spanish baile), "a dancing-party." Katapusan (Tag.; from tapus, "end, finish"), a fiesta given nine days after the death of an adult, or three days after the death of a child.
[97] Silong, the ground floor of a Filipino house. Usually it has only a dirt floor, and is not finished off.
[98] The narrator has probably made the original episode a little more delicate here. There are inconsistencies in the present form of the story: a lizard would feel cold, not hot; besides, it would hardly remain clinging to Juan's coat as he rushed through the forest. Clearly, something other than a lizard fell on Juan.
[99] Tuntung is the earthen cover of an earthen pot. The verb derived from it, tuntungan, has two meanings: one is "to cover something," the other is: to step on or over something." Hence Juan's mistake.
[100] Unfortunately this work is inaccessible at present, and I am unable to indicate definitely its episodes. It contains nothing unique, however.
[101] Mangla, big land-crabs.
[102] Cagang, small land-crabs.
[103] Bataktak, non-edible frogs.
[104] Hu-man, land-snails.
[105] Aninipot, fireflies.
[106] Lamoc, mosquitoes.
[107] Camanchile, Pithecolobium dulce Benth. (Leguminosæ), a native of tropical America; introduced into the Philippines by the Spaniards probably in the first century of Spanish occupation; now thoroughly naturalized and widely distributed in the Archipelago.
[108] Bathala, the Supreme Being of the ancient Tagalogs.
[109] This and the serial numbers following refer to corresponding numbers of tales.
End of Project Gutenberg's Filipino Popular Tales, by Dean S. Fansler