Juan the Peerless Robber
Narrated by Vicente M. Hilario, a Tagalog from Batangas, who heard the story from a Batangas student.
Not many centuries after Charlemagne died, there lived in Europe a famous brigand named Juan. From childhood he had been known as “the deceitful Juan,” “the unrivalled pilferer,” “the treacherous Juan.” When he was twenty, he was forced to flee from his native land, to which he never returned.
He visited Africa, where he became acquainted with a famous Ethiopian robber named Pedro. Not long after they had met, a dispute arose between them as to which was the more skilful pickpocket. They decided to have a test. They stood face to face, and the Ethiopian was first to try his skill.
“Hey!” exclaimed Juan to Pedro, “don’t take my handkerchief out of my pocket!”
It was now Juan’s turn. He unbuckled Pedro’s belt and slipped it into his own pocket. “What’s the matter with you, Juan?” said Pedro after a few minutes. “Why don’t you go ahead and steal something?”
“Ha, ha, ha!” said Juan. “Whose belt is this?”
Pedro generously admitted that he had been defeated.
Although these two thieves were united by strong ties of common interest, nevertheless their diverse characteristics and traits produced trouble at times. Pedro was dull, honorable, and frank; Juan was hawk-eyed and double-faced. Pedro had so large a body and so awkward and shambling a gait, that Juan could not help laughing at him and saying sarcastic things to him. Juan was good-looking and graceful.
While they were travelling about in northern Africa, they heard the heralds of the King of Tunis make the following proclamation: “A big bag of money will be given to the captor of the greatest robber in the country.” The two friends, particularly Juan, were struck by this announcement.
That night Juan secretly stole out of his room. Taking with him a long rope, he climbed up to the roof of the palace. After making a hole as large as a peso1 in the roof, he lowered himself into the building by means of the rope. He found the room filled with bags of gold and silver, pearls, carbuncles, diamonds, and other precious stones. He took the smallest bag he could find, and, after climbing out of the hole, went home quickly.
When Pedro heard Juan’s thrilling report of the untold riches, he decided to visit the palace the following night. Early in the morning Juan went again to the palace, taking with him a large tub. After lowering it into the room, he departed without delay. At nightfall he returned to the palace and filled the tub with boiling water. He had no sooner done this than Pedro arrived. Pedro was so eager to get the wealth, that he made no use of the rope, but jumped immediately into the room when he reached the small opening his treacherous friend had made in the roof. Alas! instead of falling on bags of money, Pedro fell into the fatal tub of water, and perished.
An hour later Juan went to look for his friend, whom he found dead. The next day he notified the king of the capture and death of the greatest of African robbers. “You have done well,” said the king to Juan. “This man was the chief of all the African highwaymen. Take your bag of money.”
After putting his gold in a safe place, Juan went out in search of further adventures. On one of his walks, he heard that a certain wealthy and devout abbot had been praying for two days and nights that the angel of the lord might come and take him to heaven. Juan provided himself with two strong wings. On the third night he made a hole as large as a peso through the dome of the church.
Calling the abbot, Juan said, “I have been sent by the Lord to take you to heaven. Come with me, and bring all your wealth.”
The abbot put all his money into the bag. “Now get into the bag,” said Juan, “and we will go.”
The old man promptly obeyed. “Where are we now?” said he, after an hour’s “flight.”
“We are within one thousand miles of the abode of the blessed,” was Juan’s reply.
Twenty minutes later, and they were in Juan’s cave. “Come out of the bag, and behold my rude abode?” said Juan to the old man. The abbot was astounded at the sight. When he heard Juan’s story, he advised him to abandon his evil ways. Juan listened to the counsels of his new friend. He became a good man, and he and the abbot lived together until their death.
Notes
The story of “Zaragoza” is of particular interest, because it definitely combines an old form of the “Rhampsinitus” story with the “Master Thief” cycle. In his notes to No. 11, “The Two Thieves,” of his collection of “Gypsy Folk Tales,” F. H. Groome observes, “(The) ‘Two Thieves’ is so curious a combination of the ‘Rhampsinitus’ story in Herodotus and of Grimm’s ‘Master Thief,’ that I am more than inclined to regard it as the lost original, which, according to Campbell of Islay, ‘it were vain to look for in any modern work or in any modern age.’” By “lost original” Mr. Groome doubtless meant the common ancestor of these two very widespread and for the most part quite distinct cycles, “Rhampsinitus” and the “Master Thief.”
Both of these groups of stories about clever thieves have been made the subjects Of investigation. The fullest bibliographical study of the “Rhampsinitus” saga is that by Killis Campbell, “The Seven Sages of Rome” (Boston, 1907), pp. lxxxv–xc. Others have treated the cycle more or less discursively: R. Köhler, “Ueber J. F. Campbell’s Sammlung gälischer Märchen,” No. XVII (d) (in Orient und Occident, 2 [1864]: 303–313); Sir George Cox, “The Migration of Popular Stories” (in Fraser’s Magazine, July, 1880, pp. 96–111); W. A. Clouston, “Popular Tales and Fictions” (London, 1887), 2: 115–165. See also F. H. Groome, 48–53; McCulloch, 161, note 9; and Campbell’s bibliography. The “Master Thief” cycle has been examined in great detail as to the component elements of the story by Cosquin (2: 274–281, 364–365). See also Grimm’s notes to the “Master Thief,” No. 192 (2: 464); and J. G. von Hahn, 2: 178–183.
F. Max Müller believed that the story of the “Master Thief” had its origin in the Sanscrit droll of “The Brahman and the Goat” (Hitopadesa, IV, 10 = Panchatantra, III, 3), which was brought to Europe through the Arabic translation of the “Hitopadesa.” Further, he did not believe that the “Master Thief” story had anything to do with Herodotus’s account of the theft of Rhampsinitus’s treasure (see Chips from a German Workshop [New York, 1869], 2: 228). Wilhelm Grimm, however, in his notes to No. 192 of the “Kinder-und Hausmärchen,” says, “The well-known story in Herodotus (ii, 121)... is nearly related to this.” As Sir G. W. Cox remarks (op. cit., p. 98), it is not easy to discern any real affinity either between the Hitopadesa tale and the European traditions of the “Master Thief,” or between the latter and the “Rhampsinitus” story. M. Cosquin seems to see at least one point of contact between the two cycles: “The idea of the episode of the theft of the horse, or at least of the means which the thief uses to steal the horse away.... might well have been borrowed from Herodotus’s story... of Rhampsinitus” (Contes de Lorraine, 2: 277).
A brief analysis of the characteristic incidents of these two “thieving” cycles will be of some assistance, perhaps, in determining whether or not there were originally any definite points of contact between the two. The elements of the “Rhampsinitus” story follow:—
A Two sons of king’s late architect plan to rob the royal treasure-house.
(A¹ In some variants of the story the robbers are a town thief and a country thief.)
A² They gain an entrance by removing a secret stone, a knowledge of which their father had bequeathed them before he died.
B The king discovers the theft, and sets a snare for the robbers.
C Robbers return; eldest caught inextricably. To prevent discovery, the younger brother cuts off the head of the older, takes it away, and buries it.
D The king attempts to find the confederate by exposing the headless corpse on the outer wall of the palace.
D¹ The younger thief steals the body by making the guards drunk. He also shaves the right side of the sleeping guards’ beards.
E King makes second attempt to discover confederate. He sends his daughter as a common courtesan, hoping that he can find the thief; for she is to require all her lovers to tell the story of their lives before enjoying her favors.
E¹ The younger thief visits her and tells his story; when she tries to detain him, however, he escapes by leaving in her hand the hand of a dead man he had taken along with him for just such a contingency.
F The king, baffled, now offers to pardon and reward the thief if he will discover himself. The thief gives himself up, and is married to the princess.
In some of the later forms of the story the king makes various other attempts to discover the culprit before acknowledging himself defeated, and is met with more subtle counter-moves on the part of the thief: (D²) King orders that any one found showing sympathy for the corpse as it hangs up shall be arrested; (D³) by the trick of the broken water-jar or milk-jar, the widow of the dead robber is able to mourn him unsuspected. (D⁴) The widow involuntarily wails as the corpse is being dragged through the street past her house; but the thief quickly cuts himself with a knife, and thus explains her cry when the guards come to arrest her. They are satisfied with the explanation. (E²) The king scatters gold-pieces in the street, and gives orders to arrest any one seen picking them up; (E³) the thief, with pitch or wax on the soles of his shoes, walks up and down the road, and, unobserved, gathers in the money. (E⁴) The king turns loose in the city a gold-adorned animal, and orders the arrest of any person seen capturing it. The thief steals it as in D¹, or is observed and his house-door marked. Then as in E⁶. (E⁵) Old woman begging for “hind’s flesh” or “camel-grease” finds his house; but the thief suspects her and kills her; or (E⁶) she gets away, after marking the house-door so that it may be recognized again. But the thief sees the mark, and proceeds to mark similarly all the other doors in the street. (E⁷) The king puts a prohibitive price on meat, thinking that only the thief will be able to buy; but the thief steals a joint.
However many the changes and additions of this sort (king’s move followed by thief’s move) rung in, almost all of the stories dealing with the robbery of the king’s treasury end with the pardon of the thief and his exaltation to high rank in the royal household. In none of the score of versions of the “Rhampsinitus” story cited by Clouston is the thief subjected to any further tests of his prowess after he has been pardoned by the king. We shall return to this point.
The “Master Thief” cycle has much less to do with our stories than has the “Rhampsinitus” cycle: hence we shall merely enumerate the incidents to be found in it. (For bibliography of stories containing these situations, see Cosquin.)
A Hero, the youngest of three brothers, becomes a thief. For various reasons (the motives are different in Grimm 192, and Dasent xxxv) he displays his skill:—
B¹ Theft of the purse (conducted as a droll: the young apprentice-thief, noodle-like, brings back purse to robber-gang after throwing away the money).
B² Theft of cattle being driven to the fair. This trick is usually conducted in one of four ways: (a) two shoes in road; (b) hanging self; (c) bawling in the wood like a strayed ox; (d) exciting peasant’s curiosity,—“comedy of comedies,” “wonder of wonders.”
B³ Theft of the horse. This is usually accomplished by the disguised thief making the grooms drunk.
B⁴ Stealing of a live person and carrying him in a sack to the one who gave the order. (The thief disguises himself as an angel, and promises to conduct his victim to heaven.)
Other instances of the “Master Thief’s” cleverness, not found in Cosquin, are—
B⁵ Stealing sheet or coverlet from sleeping person (Grimm, Dasent).
B⁶ Stealing roast from spit while whole family is guarding it (Dasent).
We may now examine the members of the “Rhampsinitus” group that contain situations clearly belonging to the “Master Thief” formula. These are as follows:—
Groome, No. II, “The Two Thieves,” B² (d), B⁴.
F. Liebrecht in a Cyprus story (Jahrb. f. rom. und eng. lit., 13: 367–374 = Legrand, Contes grecs, p. 205), “The Master Thief,” B²(a, c, d).
Wardrop, No. XIV, “The Two Thieves,” B⁴.
Radloff, in a Tartar story (IV, p. 193), B⁴.
Prym and Socin, in a Syriac story (II, No. 42), B⁴.
It seems very likely that the Georgian, Tartar, and Syriac stories are nearly related to one another. The Roumanian gypsy tale, too, it will be noted, adds to the “Rhampsinitus” formula the incident of the theft of a person in a sack. This latter story, again, is connected with the Georgian tale, in that the opening is identical in both. One thief meets another, and challenges him to steal the eggs (feathers) from a bird without disturbing it. While he is doing so, he is in turn robbed unawares of his drawers by the first thief. (Compare Grimm, No. 129; a Kashmir story in Knowles, 110–112; and a Kabylie story, Rivière, 13.)
The number of tales combining the two cycles of the “Master Thief” and “Rhampsinitus’s Treasure-House” is so small compared with the number of “pure” versions of each cycle, that we are led to think it very unlikely that there ever was a “lost original.” There seems to be no evidence whatsoever that these two cycles had a common ancestor. Besides the fact that the number of stories in which the contamination is found is relatively very small, there is also to be considered the fact that these few examples are recent. No one is known to have existed more than seventy-five years ago. Hence the “snowball” theory will better explain the composite nature of the gypsy version and our story of “Zaragoza” than a “missing-link” theory. These two cycles, consisting as they do of a series of tests of skill, are peculiarly fitted to be interlocked. The wonder is, not that they have become combined in a few cases, but that they have remained separate in so many more, particularly as both stories are very widespread; and, given the ingredients, this is a combination that could have been made independently by many story-tellers. Could not the idea occur to more than one narrator that it is a greater feat to steal a living person (B⁴) than a corpse (D¹), a piece of roast meat guarded by a person who knows that the thief is coming (B⁶) than a piece of raw meat from an unsuspecting butcher (E⁷)? All in all, it appears to me much more likely that the droll and certainly later cycle of the “Master Thief” grew out of the more serious and earlier cycle of “Rhampsinitus’s Treasure-House” (by the same process as is suggested in the notes to No. 1 of this present collection) than that the two are branches from the same trunk.
In any case, our two stories make the combination. When or whence these Tagalog versions arose I cannot say. Nor need they be analyzed in detail, as the texts are before us in full. I will merely call attention to the fact that in “Zaragoza” the king sets a snare (cf. Herodotus) for the thief, instead of the more common barrel of pitch. There is something decidedly primitive about this trap which shoots arrows into its victim. Zaragoza’s trick whereby he fools the rich merchant has an analogue in Knowles’s Kashmir story of “The Day-Thief and the Night-Thief” (p. 298).
“Juan the Peerless Robber,” garbled and unsatisfactory as it is in detail and perverted in dénouement, presents the interesting combination of the skill-contest between the two thieves (see above), the treachery of one (cf. the Persian Bahar-i-Danush, 2: 225–248), and the stealing of the abbot in a sack.
1 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.