The Arabian Nights

by Padraic Colum

  ‘Ala-ed-Din found so many dry sticks that he soon collected a great heap. The magician presently set them on fire; and when they were in a blaze, threw in some incense, pronouncing several magical words which ‘Ala-ed-Din did not understand.

  He had scarcely done so when the earth opened just before the magician, and exposed a stone with a brass ring fixed in it. ‘Ala-ed-Din was so frightened that he would have run away, but the magician caught hold of him and gave him such a blow on the ear that he knocked him down. ‘Ala-ed-Din got up trembling, and with tears in his eyes said to the magician, What have I done, uncle, to be treated in this severe manner?

  I supply the place of your father, answered the magician; and you ought to make no reply. But, child, added he, softening, do not be afraid, for I shall not ask anything of you except that you obey me punctually. Only thus can you reap the advantages I intend for you. Know, then, that under this stone there is hidden a treasure, destined to be yours, and which will make you richer than the greatest monarch in the world. No person but yourself is permitted to lift this stone or enter the cave, and you must do exactly what I may command, for it is a matter of great consequence both to you and to me.

  ‘Ala-ed-Din, amazed at all he saw and heard, forgot what was past, and rising, said: Well, uncle, what is to be done? Command me, I am ready to obey.

  I am overjoyed, child, said the African magician, embracing him. Take hold of the ring and lift up that stone.

  Indeed, uncle, replied ‘Ala-ed-Din, I am not strong enough. You must help me.

  You have no occasion for my assistance, answered the magician; if I help you, we shall be able to do nothing. Take hold of the ring and lift up the stone. You will find it will come easily.

  ‘Ala-ed-Din did as the magician bade him, raised the stone with ease, and laid it at one side.

  When the stone was pulled up, there appeared a staircase about three or four feet in length, leading to a door. Descend those steps, my son, said the African magician, and open that door. It will let you into a palace divided into three great halls. In each of the halls you will see four large brass cisterns full of gold and silver; but take care you do not meddle with them. Before you enter the first hall, be sure to tuck up your robe, wrap it about you, and then pass through the second into the third without stopping. Above all things, have a care that you do not touch the walls even with your clothes; for if you do, you will die instantly. At the end of the third hall, you will find a door which opens into a garden planted with fine trees loaded with fruit. Walk directly across the garden to a terrace, where you will see a niche before you, and in that niche a lighted lamp. Take the lamp down and blow out the light. When you have thrown away the wick and poured out the liquid the lamp contains, put it in your waistband and bring it to me. Do not be afraid that the liquid will soil your clothes, for it is not oil, and as soon as it is poured out the lamp will be dry.

  After these words the magician drew a ring off his finger and put it on one of ‘Ala-ed-Din’s, saying, It is a talisman against all evil so long as you obey me. Go, therefore, boldly, and we shall both be rich all our lives.

  ‘Ala-ed-Din descended the steps, and, opening the door, found the three halls just as the African magician had described. He went through them with all the precaution the fear of death could inspire, crossed the garden without stopping, took down the lamp from the niche, threw out the wick and the liquid, and put it in his waistband. But as he came down from the terrace, he stopped in the garden to observe the trees, which were loaded with extraordinary fruit of different colors. Some trees bore fruit entirely white, and some clear and transparent as crystal; some red, some green, blue, and purple, and others yellow; in short, there was fruit of all colors. The white fruit were pearls; the clear and transparent, diamonds; the red, rubies; the green, emeralds; the blue, turquoises; the purple, amethysts; and the yellow, sapphires. ‘Ala-ed-Din, ignorant of their value, would have preferred figs, or grapes, or pomegranates; but he resolved to gather some of every sort. Having filled two new purses, he wrapped some up in his robe and crammed his bosom as full as it could hold.

  ‘Ala-ed-Din, having thus loaded himself with riches of which he knew not the value, returned through the three halls and soon arrived at the mouth of the cave, where the African magician awaited him with the utmost impatience. As soon as ‘Ala-ed-Din saw him, he cried out, Pray, uncle, lend me your hand, to help me out.

  Give me the lamp first, replied the magician; it will be troublesome to you.

  Indeed, uncle, answered ‘Ala-ed-Din, I cannot now, but I will as soon as I am up.

  The African magician was determined that he would have the lamp before he would help him up; and ‘Ala-ed-Din, who had encumbered himself so much with his fruit that he could not well get at it, refused to give it to him till he was out of the cave. The African magician, provoked at this obstinate refusal, flew into a passion, threw a little of his incense into the fire, and pronounced two magical words, when the stone which had closed the mouth of the staircase moved into its place, with the earth over it in the same manner as it lay at the arrival of the magician and ‘Ala-ed-Din.

  This action of the magician plainly revealed to ‘Ala-ed-Din that he was no uncle of his, but one who designed him evil. The truth was that he had learnt from his magic books the secret and the value of this wonderful lamp, the owner of which would be made richer than any earthly ruler, and hence his journey to China. His art had also told him that he was not permitted to take it himself, but must receive it as a voluntary gift from the hands of another person. Hence he employed young ‘Ala-ed-Din, and hoped by a mixture of kindness and authority to make him obedient to his word and will. When he found that his attempt had failed, he set out to return to Africa, but avoided the town, lest any person who had seen him leave in company with ‘Ala-ed-Din should make inquiries after the youth. ‘Ala-ed-Din, being suddenly enveloped in darkness, cried, and called out to his uncle to tell him he was ready to give him the lamp; but in vain, since his cries could not be heard. He descended to the bottom of the steps, with a design to get into the palace, but the door, which was opened before by enchantment, was now shut by the same means. He then redoubled his cries and tears, sat down on the steps without any hopes of ever seeing light again, and in expectation of a speedy death. In this great emergency he said, There is no strength or power but in the great and high God; and in joining his hands to pray he rubbed the ring which the magician had put on his finger.

  Immediately a Jinni of frightful aspect appeared, and said, What wouldst thou have? I am ready to obey thee. I serve him who possesses the ring on thy finger, I and the other servants of that ring.

  At another time ‘Ala-ed-Din would have been frightened at the sight of so extraordinary a figure, but the danger he was in made him answer without hesitation, Whoever thou art, deliver me from this place.

  He had no sooner spoken these words than he found himself on the very spot where the magician had last left him, and no sign of cave or opening, nor disturbance of the earth. Returning God thanks to find himself once more in the world, he made the best of his way home. When he got within his mother’s door, the joy to see her and his weakness for want of food made him so faint that he fell down and remained for a long time as dead. As soon as he recovered, he related to his mother all that had happened to him, and they were both very vehement in denouncing the cruel magician. ‘Ala-ed-Din slept soundly till late the next morning, when the first thing he said to his mother was, that he wanted something to eat, and wished she would give him his breakfast.

  Alas! child, said she, I have not a bit of bread to give you. You ate up all the provisions I had in the house yesterday; but I have a little cotton which I have spun. I will go and sell it, and buy something for our dinner.

  Mother, replied ‘Ala-ed-Din, keep your cotton for another time, and give me the lamp I brought home with me yesterday. I will sell it, and the money I shall get will serve both for breakfast and dinner, and perhaps supper to
o.

  ‘Ala-ed-Din’s mother took the lamp, and said to her son: Here it is, but it is very dirty. If it was a little cleaner, I believe it would bring something more.

  She took some fine sand and water to clean it; but had no sooner begun to rub it than in an instant a hideous Jinni of gigantic size appeared before her, and said to her in a voice of thunder: What wouldst thou have? I am ready to obey thee as thy servant, and the servant of all those who have that lamp in their hands; I and the other servants of the lamp.

  ‘Ala-ed-Din’s mother, terrified at the sight of the Jinni, fainted. ‘Ala-ed-Din, who had seen such a phantom in the cavern, snatched the lamp out of his mother’s hand and said to the Jinni boldly, I am hungry, bring me something to eat.

  The Jinni disappeared immediately, but promptly returned with a large silver tray, on which were twelve covered dishes of the same metal, containing the most delicious viands. He set down the tray and disappeared. This was done before ‘Ala-ed-Din’s mother recovered from her swoon.

  ‘Ala-ed-Din fetched some water and sprinkled it in her face to revive her. Whether that or the smell of the meat effected her cure, it was not long before she came to herself. Mother, said ‘Ala-ed-Din, be not afraid. Get up and eat. Here is what will put you in heart, and at the same time satisfy my extreme hunger.

  His mother was much surprised to see the great tray and twelve dishes, and to smell the savory odor which exhaled from the food. Child, said she, to whom are we obliged for this great plenty and liberality? Has the Sultan been made acquainted with our poverty and had compassion on us?

  It is no matter, mother, said ‘Ala-ed-Din, let us sit down and eat, for you have almost as much need of a good breakfast as myself. When we have done I will answer your questions.

  Accordingly, both mother and son sat down, and ate with the better relish as the table was so well furnished. But all the time ‘Ala-ed-Din’s mother could not forbear looking at and admiring the tray and dishes, though she could not judge whether they were silver or some other metal.

  The mother and son sat at breakfast till it was noon, and then they thought it would be best to eat dinner; yet, after this they found they should have enough left for supper, and two meals for the next day.

  When ‘Ala-ed-Din’s mother had taken away what was left, she went and sat down by her son on the sofa, saying, I expect now that you will satisfy my impatience, and tell me exactly what passed between the Jinni and you while I was in a swoon.

  She was as greatly amazed at what her son told her as at the appearance of the Jinni, and said to him, But, son, what have we to do with the Jinn? I never heard that any of my acquaintances had ever seen one. How came that vile Jinni to address himself to me, and not to you, to whom he had appeared before in the cave?

  Mother, answered ‘Ala-ed-Din, the Jinni you saw is not the one who appeared to me. If you remember, he that I first saw called himself the servant of the ring on my finger; and this you saw called himself the servant of the lamp you had in your hand; but I believe you did not hear him, for I think you fainted as soon as he began to speak.

  What! cried the mother, was your lamp then the occasion of that cursed Jinni addressing himself rather to me than to you? Ah! my son, take it out of my sight, and put it where you please. I had rather you would sell it than run the hazard of being frightened to death again by touching it; and if you would take my advice, you would part also with the ring, and not have anything to do with the Jinn, who, as our prophet has told us, are only devils.

  With your leave, mother, replied ‘Ala-ed-Din, I shall now take care how I sell a lamp which may be so serviceable both to you and me. That false and wicked magician would not have undertaken so long a journey to secure this wonderful lamp if he had not known its value exceeded that of gold and silver. And since we have honestly come by it, let us make a profitable use of it, though without any great show to excite the envy and jealousy of our neighbors. However, since the Jinni frightens you so much, I will take it out of your sight, and put it where I may find it when I want it. The ring I cannot resolve to part with, for without that you had never seen me again; and though I am alive now, perhaps, if it was gone, I might not be so some moments hence. Therefore, I hope you will give me leave to keep it, and to wear it always on my finger.

  ‘Ala-ed-Din’s mother replied that he might do what he pleased; but for her part, she would have nothing to do with the Jinn, and ordered him never to say anything more about them.

  By the next night they had eaten all the provisions the Jinni had brought; and the following day ‘Ala-ed-Din put one of the silver dishes under his vest, and went out early to sell it. He addressed himself to a peddler whom he met in the streets, took him aside, and pulling out the plate, asked him if he would buy it. The cunning man took the dish, examined it, and as soon as he found that it was good silver, asked ‘Ala-ed-Din at how much he valued it. ‘Ala-ed-Din, who had never been used to such traffic, told him he would trust to his judgment and honor. The peddler was somewhat confounded at this plain dealing; and doubting whether ‘Ala-ed-Din understood the material or the full value of what he offered to sell, took a piece of gold out of his purse and gave it to him, though it was but the sixtieth part of the worth of the plate. ‘Ala-ed-Din received the money very eagerly and retired with so much haste that the peddler, not content with his great profit, was vexed he had not penetrated into ‘Ala-ed-Din’s ignorance. He was going to run after him, to endeavor to get some change out of the piece of gold; but ‘Ala-ed-Din ran so fast, and had got so far, that it was impossible for the man to overtake him.

  Before ‘Ala-ed-Din went home, he called at a baker’s, bought some cakes of bread, changed his money, and on his return gave the rest to his mother, who went and purchased provisions enough to last them some time. After this manner they lived, till ‘Ala-ed-Din had sold the twelve dishes one by one, as necessity pressed, to the same peddler, who paid each time the same money as for the first, because he durst not offer less, in fear of losing so good a bargain. When he had sold the last dish, he still had the tray, which weighed ten times as much as the dishes, and he would have carried it to his old purchaser, but it was too large and cumbersome. Therefore he was obliged to bring him home to his mother’s, where, after the man had estimated the weight of the tray, he laid down ten pieces of gold, with which ‘Ala-ed-Din was very well satisfied.

  When all the money was spent, ‘Ala-ed-Din had recourse again to the lamp. He took it in his hand and looked for the part where his mother had rubbed it with the sand and water. There he rubbed it also, when the Jinni immediately appeared and said: What wouldst thou have? I am ready to obey thee as thy servant, and the servant of all those who have that lamp in their hands; I, and the other servants of the lamp.

  I am hungry, said ‘Ala-ed-Din, bring me something to eat.

  The Jinni disappeared, and presently returned with a tray, containing the same number of covered dishes as before, set them down, and vanished.

  As soon as ‘Ala-ed-Din found that their provisions were again gone, he took one of the dishes, and went to look for his peddler; but passing by a goldsmith’s shop, the goldsmith perceiving him, called to him and said: My lad, I imagine that you have something to sell to the peddler, whom I often see you visit; but perhaps you do not know that he is a great rogue. I will give you the full worth of what you have to sell, or I will direct you to other merchants who will not cheat you.

  This offer induced ‘Ala-ed-Din to pull his plate from under his vest and show it to the goldsmith, who at first sight saw that it was made of the finest silver, and asked him if he had sold such as that to the peddler. ‘Ala-ed-Din told him that he had sold the man twelve such, for a piece of gold each.

  What a villain! cried the goldsmith. But, added he, my son, what is past cannot be recalled. By showing you the value of this plate, which is of the finest silver we use in our shops, I will let you see how much that man has cheated you.

  The goldsmith took a pair of scales, weigh
ed the dish, and assured ‘Ala-ed-Din that his plate would fetch by weight sixty pieces of gold, which he offered to pay immediately.

  ‘Ala-ed-Din thanked him for his fair dealing, and never after went to any other person.

  Though ‘Ala-ed-Din and his mother had a boundless treasure in their lamp, and might have had whatever they wished for, yet they lived with the same frugality as before, and it may easily be supposed that the money for which ‘Ala-ed-Din had sold the dishes and tray was sufficient to maintain them some time.

  During this interval, ‘Ala-ed-Din frequented the shops of the principal merchants, where they sold cloth of gold and silver, linens, silk stuffs, and jewelery, and oftentimes joining in their conversation, acquired a knowledge of the world and a desire to improve himself. By his acquaintance among the jewelers he came to know that the fruits which he had gathered when he took the lamp were, instead of colored glass, stones of immense value; but he had the prudence not to mention this to anyone, not even to his mother.

  One day as ‘Ala-ed-Din was walking about the town, he heard an order proclaimed, commanding the people to shut up their shops and houses, and keep within doors, while the Princess Bedr-el-Budur, the Sultan’s daughter, went to the bath and returned.

  This proclamation inspired ‘Ala-ed-Din with eager desire to see the princess’s face, and he determined to gratify this desire by placing himself behind the door of the bath, so that he could not fail to see her face as she went in.

  ‘Ala-ed-Din had not long concealed himself before the princess came. She was attended by a great crowd of ladies and servants, who walked on each side and behind her. When she came within three or four paces of the door of the bath, she took off her veil, and gave ‘Ala-ed-Din a chance for a full view of her features.

  The princess was a noted beauty. Her eyes were large, lively, and sparkling; her smile bewitching; her nose faultless; her mouth small; her lips vermilion. It is not therefore surprising that ‘Ala-ed-Din, who had never before seen such a blaze of charms, was dazzled and enchanted.