The magician never doubted but this was the lamp he wanted. There could be no other such in the place, where every utensil was gold or silver. He snatched it eagerly out of the woman’s hand, and thrusting it as far as he could into his breast, held out his basket, and bade the servant choose which lamp he liked best. The servant picked out one, and carried it to the princess; and the change was no sooner made than the place rung with the shouts of the children, deriding the magician’s folly.
The African magician stayed no longer near the palace, nor cried any more, New lamps for old ones, but made the best of his way to his khan. He had succeeded in his purpose, and by his silence he got rid of the children and the mob.
As soon as he was out of sight of the two palaces, he hastened down the least-frequented streets; and having no more occasion for his lamps or basket, set all down in a spot where nobody saw him. Then going down another street or two, he walked till he came to one of the city gates, and pursuing his way through the suburbs, which were very extensive, at length reached a lonely spot, where he stopped till the darkness of the night, as the most suitable time for the design he had in contemplation. When it became quite dark, he pulled the lamp out of his breast, and rubbed it.
At that summons the Jinni 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; both I and the other servants of the lamp.
I command thee, replied the magician, to transport me immediately, and the palace which thou and the other servants of the lamp have built in this city, with all the people in it, to Africa.
The Jinni made no reply, but with the assistance of the other Jinn, the servants of the lamp, immediately transported him and the entire palace to the spot whither he had been desired to convey them.
Early the next morning, when the Sultan, according to custom, went to contemplate and admire ‘Ala-ed-Din’s palace, his amazement was unbounded to find that it was nowhere in sight. He could not comprehend how so large a palace, which he had seen plainly every day for some years, should vanish so soon and not leave the least remains behind. In his perplexity he ordered the Grand Wezir to be sent for with haste.
The Grand Wezir, who, in secret, bore no good will to ‘Ala-ed-Din, intimated his suspicion that the palace was built by magic, and that ‘Ala-ed-Din had made his hunting excursion an excuse for the removal of his palace with the same suddenness with which it had been erected. He induced the Sultan to send a detachment of his guards to seize ‘Ala-ed-Din as a prisoner of state. When his son-in-law was brought before him, he would not hear a word from him, but ordered him to be put to death. The decree caused so much discontent among the people, whose affection ‘Ala-ed-Din had secured by his largesses and charities, that the Sultan, fearful of an insurrection, was obliged to grant him his life. As soon as ‘Ala-ed-Din found himself at liberty, he addressed the Sultan, and said, Sire, I pray you to let me know the crime by which I have lost thy favor.
Your crime! answered the Sultan, wretched man! do you not know it? Follow me, and I will show you.
The Sultan then took ‘Ala-ed-Din into the apartment whence it was his habit to look at and admire his palace, and said, You ought to know where your palace stood; look, consider, and tell me what has become of it.
‘Ala-ed-Din looked, and being utterly amazed at the loss of his palace, was speechless. At last recovering himself, he said: It is true, I do not see the palace. It is vanished; but I had no concern in its removal. I beg you to give me forty days, and if in that time I cannot restore it, I will offer my head to be disposed of at your pleasure.
I give you the time you ask, responded the Sultan, but at the end of the forty days forget not to present yourself before me.
‘Ala-ed-Din went out of the Sultan’s palace in a condition of exceeding humiliation. The lords who had courted him in the days of his splendor, now declined to have any words with him. For three days he wandered about the city, exciting the wonder and compassion of the multitude by asking everybody he met if they had seen his palace, or could tell him anything of it. On the third day he wandered into the country, and as he was approaching a river, he fell down the bank and rubbed the ring which the magician had given him. Immediately the same Jinni appeared whom he had seen in the cave where the magician had left him. What wouldst thou have? said the Jinni. I am ready to obey thee as thy servant, and the servant of all those who have that ring on their finger, both I and the other servants of the ring.
‘Ala-ed-Din, agreeably surprised at an offer of help so little expected, replied, Jinni, show me where the palace I caused to be built now stands, and transport it back where it first stood.
Your command, answered the Jinni, is not wholly in my power; I am only the servant of the ring, and not of the lamp.
I command thee, then, replied ‘Ala-ed-Din, by the power of the ring, to transport me to the spot where my palace stands, in whatsoever part of the world it may be.
These words were no sooner out of his mouth than the Jinni transported him into Africa, to the midst of a large plain, where his palace stood at no great distance from a city, and placing him under the window of the princess’s apartment left him.
Now it so happened that shortly after ‘Ala-ed-Din had been transported by the servant of the ring to the neighborhood of his palace, that one of the attendants of the Princess Bedr-el-Budur looking through the window perceived him and instantly told her mistress. The princess, who could not believe the joyful tidings, hastened to the window, and seeing ‘Ala-ed-Din, immediately opened it. The noise of opening the window made ‘Ala-ed-Din turn his head that way, and perceiving the princess, he saluted her with an air that expressed his joy. I have sent to have the private door unlocked for you, said she. Enter, and come up.
The private door which was just under the princess’s apartment was soon opened, and ‘Ala-ed-Din was conducted up into the chamber. It is impossible to express the joy of both at seeing each other after so cruel a separation. They embraced and shed tears of joy. Then they sat down, and ‘Ala-ed-Din said, I beg of you princess, to tell me what is become of an old lamp which stood on a shelf in my robing-chamber.
Alas! answered the princess, I was afraid our misfortunes might be owing to that lamp; and what grieves me most is, that I have been the cause of them. I was foolish enough to change the old lamp for a new one, and the next morning I found myself in this unknown country, which I am told is Africa.
Princess, said ‘Ala-ed-Din, interrupting her, you have explained all by telling me we are in Africa. I desire you only to inform me if you know where the old lamp now is.
The African magician carries it in his robes, said the princess; and this I can assure you, because he pulled it out before me and showed it to me in triumph.
Princess, said ‘Ala-ed-Din, I think I have found the means to deliver you and to regain possession of the lamp on which all my prosperity depends. To execute this design, it is necessary for me to go to the town. I shall return by noon, and will then tell you what must be done by you to insure success. In the meantime, I shall disguise myself, and I beg that the private door may be opened at the first knock.
When ‘Ala-ed-Din was out of the palace, he looked round him on all sides, and perceiving a peasant going into the country, hastened after him; and when he had overtaken him, made a proposal to him to change clothes, which the man agreed to. When they had made the exchange, the countryman went about his business, and ‘Ala-ed-Din entered the city. After traversing several streets, he came to that part of the town where the merchants and artisans had their particular streets according to their trades. He went into that of the druggists; and entering one of the largest and best furnished shops, asked the druggist if he had a certain powder which he named.
The druggist, judging ‘Ala-ed-Din by his habit to be very poor, told him he had it, but that it was expensive, on which ‘Ala-ed-Din pulled out his purse, and showing him some gold asked for half a dram of the powder,
which the druggist weighed and gave him, telling him the price was a piece of gold. ‘Ala-ed-Din put the money into his hand and hastened to the palace, which he entered at once by the private door. When he came into the princess’s apartment, he said to her: Princess, you must take your part in the scheme which I propose for our deliverance. You must overcome your dislike of the magician and assume a most friendly manner toward him, and ask him to oblige you by partaking of a feast in your apartments. Before he leaves, ask him to exchange cups with you, which he, gratified at the honor you do him, will gladly do, when you must give him the cup containing this powder. On drinking it he will instantly fall dead, and we will obtain the lamp, whose Jinni will do all our bidding and restore us and the palace to the capital of China.
The princess obeyed to the utmost her husband’s instructions. She assumed a look of pleasure on the next visit of the magician and asked him to a feast. He most willingly accepted the invitation, and at the close of the evening, during which the princess had tried all she could to please him, she asked him to exchange cups with her. Then she had the drugged cup brought to her, and gave it to the magician. He drank its contents, out of compliment to the princess, to the very last drop, when he fell back lifeless on the sofa.
The princess, expecting the success of her scheme, had so placed her women from the great hall to the foot of the staircase that the word was no sooner given that the African magician was fallen backward than the door was opened, and ‘Ala-ed-Din admitted to the hall. The princess rose from her seat and ran overjoyed to embrace him; but he stopped her and said, Princess, retire to your apartment, and let me be left alone while I endeavor to transport you back to China as speedily as you were brought thence.
When the princess and her attendants were gone out of the hall, ‘Ala-ed-Din shut the door, and going directly to the dead body of the magician opened his vest, and took out the lamp which was carefully wrapped up. He rubbed it, and the Jinni immediately appeared. Jinni, said ‘Ala-ed-Din, I command thee to transport this palace instantly to the place whence it was brought hither.
The Jinni bowed his head in token of obedience and disappeared. Immediately the palace was transported into China, and its removal was only felt by two little shocks, the one when it was lifted up, the other when it was set down, and both in a very short interval of time.
On the morning after the restoration of ‘Ala-ed-Din’s palace the Sultan was looking out of his window and mourning over the fate of his daughter, when he thought he saw that the vacancy created by the disappearance of the palace was filled up. On looking more attentively, he was convinced beyond the power of doubt that he saw his son-in-law’s palace. Joy and gladness succeeded to sorrow and grief. He at once ordered a horse to be saddled, which he mounted that instant, thinking he could not make haste enough to the place.
‘Ala-ed-Din rose that morning by daybreak, put on one of the most magnificent habits his wardrobe afforded, and went up into the hall of twenty-four windows. Thence he perceived the Sultan approaching, and received him at the foot of the great staircase and helped him to dismount.
He led the Sultan into the princess’s apartment. The happy father embraced her with tears of joy; and the princess, on her side, afforded similar proofs of her extreme pleasure. After a short interval devoted to explanations of all that had happened, the Sultan restored ‘Ala-ed-Din to his favor and expressed his regret for the apparent harshness with which he had treated him. My son, said he, be not displeased at my proceedings against you. They arose from my paternal love, and therefore you ought to forgive them.
Sire, replied ‘Ala-ed-Din, I have not the least reason to complain of your conduct, since you did nothing but what your duty required. This wicked magician, the basest of men, was the sole cause of my misfortune.
The African magician, who was thus twice foiled in his endeavor to ruin ‘Ala-ed-Din, had a younger brother, who was as skillful a magician as himself, and exceeded him in wickedness and hatred of mankind. By mutual agreement they communicated with each other once a year, however widely separate might be their place of residence from each other. The younger brother not having received as usual his annual message, prepared to ascertain what the trouble was. By his magic art he found that his brother was no longer living, but had been poisoned; and that his body was in the capital of the kingdom of China; also that the person who had poisoned him was of humble birth, though married to a princess, a Sultan’s daughter.
As soon as the magician had informed himself of his brother’s fate, he resolved immediately to revenge his death and at once departed for China, where, after crossing plains, rivers, mountains, and deserts, he arrived, having endured many fatigues. When he came to the capital of China, he took a lodging at a khan. His magic art promptly revealed to him that ‘Ala-ed-Din was the person who had been the cause of the death of his brother. He had not been long in the city before he noticed that everyone was talking of a woman called Fatimeh, who was retired from the world, and who wrought many miracles. As he fancied that this woman might be useful to him in the project he had conceived, he made minute inquiries, and requested to be informed more particularly who that holy woman was, and as to the sort of miracles she performed.
What! said the person whom he addressed, have you never seen her? She is the admiration of the whole town for her fasting and her exemplary life. Except Mondays and Fridays she never stirs out of her little cell, but on those days she comes into the town and does an infinite deal of good; for there is not a person who is diseased whom she does not put her hand on and cure.
Having ascertained the place where the hermitage of this holy woman was, the magician went at night and killed the good woman. In the morning he dyed his face the same hue as hers, arrayed himself in her garb, and taking her veil, the large necklace she wore round her waist, and her staff, went straight to the palace of ‘Ala-ed-Din.
No sooner did the people see the holy woman, as they imagined him to be, than they gathered about him in a great crowd. Some begged his blessing, others kissed his hand, and others, more reserved, only the hem of his garment; while others, suffering from disease, stooped for him to lay his hands on them, which he did, muttering some words in form of prayer, and, in short, he pretended so well that everybody took him for the holy woman. He came at last to the square before ‘Ala-ed-Din’s palace. The crowd was so great and so noisy that the princess, who was in the hall of four-and-twenty windows, heard it and asked what was the matter. One of her women told her a vast number of people had collected about the holy woman to be cured of diseases by the laying on of her hands.
The princess, who had long heard of Fatimeh, but had never seen her, was very desirous to have some conversation with her. The chief officer perceiving this, told the princess it was an easy matter to bring the holy woman into the palace, if she desired and commanded it; and the princess expressing her wishes, he immediately sent four servants for the pretended Fatimeh.
As soon as the crowd saw the attendants from the palace, it made way; and the magician, perceiving that they were coming for him, advanced to meet them, overjoyed to find his plot was succeeding so well. Holy woman, said one of the servants, the princess wants to see you and has sent for you.
The princess does me great honor, replied the false Fatimeh; I am ready to obey her command, and he followed the servants to the palace.
When the pretended Fatimeh had bowed, the princess said: My good mother, I have one thing to request which you must not refuse. It is to stay with me, that you may edify me with your way of living, and that I may learn from your good example.
Princess, said the false Fatimeh, I beg of you not to ask what I cannot consent to without neglecting my prayers and devotions.
That shall be no hindrance to you, answered the princess. I have a great many apartments unoccupied; you shall choose which you like best, and have as much liberty to perform your devotions as if you were in your own cell.
The magician, who really desired nothing more than
to introduce himself into the palace, where it would be a much easier matter for him to work his designs, did not long excuse himself from accepting the obliging offer which the princess made him. Princess, said he, whatever resolution a poor wretched woman as I am may have made to renounce the pomp and grandeur of this world, I dare not presume to oppose the will and commands of so pious and charitable a princess.
On this the princess, rising, said, Come with me; I will show you what vacant apartments I have, that you may make choice of the one you like best.
The magician followed the princess, and of all the apartments she showed him, made choice of that which was the worst, saying it was too good for him, and he only accepted it to please her.
Afterward the princess would have brought him back into the great hall to make him dine with her; but he, considering that he should then be obliged to show his face, which he had always taken care to conceal with Fatimeh’s veil, and fearing that the princess would find out that he was not Fatimeh, begged of her earnestly to excuse him, telling her that he never ate anything but bread and dried fruits, and desired to eat that slight repast in his own apartment. The princess granted his request, saying: You may be as free here, good mother, as if you were in your own cell. I will order you a dinner, but remember I want to talk with you as soon as you have finished your repast.
After the princess had dined, and the false Fatimeh had been sent for by one of the attendants, he again waited on her. My good mother, said the princess, I am overjoyed to see so holy a woman as yourself, who will confer a blessing on this palace. But now I am speaking of the palace, pray how do you like it? And before I show it all to you, tell me first what you think of this hall.
The Arabian Nights Page 22
