Practically identical is the story of “The Bad Wife and the Devil,” in Vogl, “Slowenische Volksmärchen” (Wien, 1837).
In a Finnish version of the story (Benfey, 524–525) the hero, as in the preceding, assumes the rôle of a physician.
The husband pushes his bad wife into an abyss. When he attempts to draw her out again, another woman appears. She is the Plague.[8] Out of gratitude for her liberation from that other wicked woman, she proposes to him that they travel together through the world: she, the pest, will make people ill; he, as physician, will cure them. So done. As a result the man becomes rich. But at last he grows weary of his excessive work: so he procures a snappish dog, and puts it in a sack. The next time he is called to the side of a person made sick by the pest, he says to her, “Enter human beings no more: if you do, I will liberate from this sack the woman that tormented you in the abyss,” at the same time irritating the dog so that it growls. The Plague, full of terror, begs him for God’s sake not to set the woman free, and promises to reform.
It will be seen that in its method of the “sickness and the cure,” this story is related to Grimm, No. 44, “Godfather Death,” where Death takes the place of the Plague, and where, instead of gratitude, the motive is the godfather relationship of Death toward the hero.
This folk-tale, says Benfey (p. 525), was early put into literary form in Europe. Among others, he cites Machiavelli’s excellent version in his story of “Belfagor” (early sixteenth century):—
Belfagor, a devil, is sent to earth by his master to live as a married man for ten years, to see whether certain accusations made against women by souls in hell are true or slanderous. Belfagor marries in Florence; but his imperious wife causes him so much bad fortune, that he is compelled to flee from his creditors. A peasant conceals him, and out of gratitude Belfagor tells his rescuer his story, and promises to make him rich by possessing women and allowing himself to be driven out only by the peasant himself. So done. The peasant wins great renown; and at last Belfagor says that his obligations have been fulfilled, and that the peasant must look out for himself if they meet again. The devil now enters the daughter of Ludwig II, King of France. The peasant is summoned to cure her, but is afraid, and refuses. At last he is compelled to go, like the physician, against his will (see Benfey, 515 ff.). Belfagor rages when he sees the peasant, and threatens him vehemently. At last the peasant employs the usual trick: “Your wife is coming!” and the devil flees in consternation, choosing rather to rush back to hell than into the arms of his wife.
Benfey considers a Bohemian story in Wenzig’s collection (West-slawische Märchen, Leipzig, 1857, p. 167) to be the best of all the popular versions belonging to this group, and he reproduces it in full (pp. 527–534). This long story we may pass over, since it contains no new features that are found in our story. In fact, it little resembles ours or any of the others, except in general in two or three episodes. Benfey concludes his discussion of this cycle by stating that there have been many other imitations of this tale, and he mentions some of these (p. 534). It may be added that further references will be found in Wilson’s note in his edition of Dunlop, 2 : 188–190.
The question of the origin of the Pampango version of this story is not easy to answer definitely, for the reason that it presents details not found in any of the other variants. However, since nearly all the machinery of our story turns on the teachings of the Roman Church, and since the denouement is practically identical with the ending of Caballero’s Andalusian story, I conclude that in its main outlines our version was derived from Spain. At the same time, I think it likely that the fairy-tale of “Mabait and the Duende” was already existent earlier in the Islands (though this, too, may have been imported), and that the motivation of the spirit’s desire to revenge himself on his tormentor for his avarice and greed was incorporated into the Märchen from the fairy-tale. My reasons for thinking the fairy-tale the older are: (1) its crudeness (the good and the bad hero are a very awkward device compared with the combination of qualities in the guachinango); (2) its local references and its native names; (3) its use of native superstitions and beliefs.
[1] Cintas, a holy belt worn by women.