Alí Bábá
and the Forty Thieves
In a town in Persia
there dwelt two brothers, one named Qásim, the other ‘Alí Bábá. Qásim was married to a rich wife and lived in plenty, while Alí Bábá had to maintain his wife and children by cutting wood in a neighboring forest and selling it in the town.
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there dwelt two brothers, one named Qásim, the other ‘Alí Bábá. Qásim was married to a rich wife and lived in plenty, while Alí Bábá had to maintain his wife and children by cutting wood in a neighboring forest and selling it in the town.
One day, when Alí Bábá was in the forest, he saw a troop of
men on horseback, coming toward him in a cloud of dust. He was afraid they were
robbers, and climbed into a tree for safety. When they came up to him and dismounted,
he counted forty of them. They unbridled their horses and tied them to trees.
The finest man among them, whom Alí Bábá took to be their
captain, went a little way among some bushes, and said, "Open, Sesame!"
so plainly that Alí Bábá heard him.
A door opened in the rocks, and having made the troop go in,
he followed them, and the door shut again of itself. They stayed some time
inside, and Alí Bábá, fearing they might come out and catch him, was forced to
sit patiently in the tree. At last the door opened again, and the Forty Thieves
came out. As the Captain went in last he came out first, and made them all pass
by him; he then closed the door, saying, "Shut,
Sesame!"
Every man bridled his horse and mounted, the Captain put
himself at their head, and they returned as they came.
Then Alí Bábá climbed down and went to the door concealed
among the bushes, and said, "Open,
Sesame!" and it flew open.
Alí Bábá, who expected a dull, dismal place, was greatly
surprised to find it large and well lighted, hollowed by the hand of man in the
form of a vault, which received the light from an opening in the ceiling. He
saw rich bales of merchandise -- silk, stuff-brocades, all piled together, and
gold and silver in heaps, and money in leather purses. He went in and the door
shut behind him. He did not look at the silver, but brought out as many bags of
gold as he thought his donkeys, which were browsing outside, could carry,
loaded them with the bags, and hid it all with fagots.
Using the words, "Shut,
Sesame!" he closed the door and went home.
Then he drove his donkeys into the yard, shut the gates,
carried the money-bags to his wife, and emptied them out before her. She was dazzled by the treasure set before her and begged her husband to recount the adventures that brought them such good fortune. After he had told her all, he bade
her keep the secret, and he would go and bury the gold.
"As you will, but let me first measure it," said his wife. "I
will go borrow a measure of someone, while you dig the hole."
So she ran to the wife of Qásim and borrowed weights and scales with which to balance a reckoning.
Knowing Alí Bábá's poverty, the sister was curious to find out what sort of
grain his wife wished to measure, and artfully put some suet at the bottom of
the measure. Alí Bábá's wife went home and set the measure on the heap of gold,
and filled it and emptied it often, to her great content. She then carried it
back to her sister, without noticing that a piece of gold was sticking to it,
which Qásim's wife perceived directly her back was turned.
She grew very curious, and said to Qásim when he came home,
"Qásim, your brother is richer than you. He does not count his money, he
measures it."
He begged her to explain this riddle, which she did by
showing him the gold coin and telling him where she found it. Then Qásim
grew so envious that he could not sleep, and went to his brother in the morning
before sunrise. "Alí Bábá," he said, showing him the gold piece,
"you pretend to be poor and yet you measure gold."
By this Alí Bábá perceived that through his wife's folly Qásim
and his wife knew their secret, so he confessed all and offered Qásim a share.
"That I expect," said Qásim; "but I must know
where to find the treasure, otherwise I will discover all, and you will lose
all."
Alí Bábá, more out of kindness than fear, told him of the
cave, and the very words to use. Qásim took leave of Alí Bábá, meaning to be beforehand
with him and get the treasure for himself. He rose early next morning, and set
out with ten mules loaded with great chests. He soon found the place, and the
door in the rock. He said, "Open,
Sesame!" and the door opened and shut behind
him. He could have feasted his eyes all day on the treasures, but he now
hastened to gather together as much of it as possible; but when he was ready to
go he could not remember what to say for thinking of his great riches. Instead
of "Sesame," he said, "Open, Barley!" and the door remained
fast. He named several different sorts of grain, all but the right one, and the
door still stuck fast. He was so frightened at the danger he was in that he had
as much forgotten the word as if he had never heard it.
About noon the robbers returned to their cave, and saw Qásim's
mules roving about with great chests on their backs. This gave them the alarm;
they drew their sabers, and went to the door, which opened on their Captain's
saying, "Open, Sesame!"
Qásim, who had heard the trampling of their horses' feet,
resolved to sell his life dearly, so when the door opened he leaped out and
threw the Captain down. In vain, however, for the robbers with their sabers
soon killed him. On entering the cave they saw all the bags laid ready, and
could not imagine how anyone had got in without knowing their secret. They cut Qásim's
body into four quarters, and nailed them up inside the cave, in order to
frighten anyone who should venture in, and went away in search of more
treasure.
As night drew on Qásim's wife grew very uneasy, and ran to
her brother-in-law, and told him where her husband had gone. Alí Bábá did his
best to comfort her, and set out to the forest in search of Qásim. The first
thing he saw on entering the cave was his dead brother. Full of horror, he put
the body on one of his donkeys, and bags of gold on the other two, and,
covering all with some fagots, returned home. He drove the two donkeys laden
with gold into his own yard, and led the other to Qásim's house.
The door was opened by the slave Marjánah, whom he knew to
be both brave and cunning. Unloading the donkey, he said to her, "This is
the body of your master, who has been murdered, but whom we must bury as though
he had died in his bed. I will speak with you again, but now tell your mistress
I am come."
The wife of Qásim, on learning the fate of her husband,
broke out into cries and tears, and Alí Bábá consoled her and wept with her and then he said "What was to happen has happened but it behooves us, for our very lives, to keep this matter secret. Naught can avail when Allah has decreed." Alí Bábá then offered to take her to live with him and his wife if she would promise to keep his counsel and leave everything
to Marjánah; whereupon she gave him her word that she would keep the affair concealed.
Marjánah, meanwhile, sought an apothecary and asked him for
some lozenges. "My poor master," she said, "can neither eat nor
speak, and no one knows what his distemper is." She carried home the
lozenges and returned next day weeping, and asked for an essence only given to
those just about to die.
Thus, in the evening, no one was surprised to hear the
wretched shrieks and cries of Qásim's wife and Marjánah, telling everyone that Qásim
was dead.
The next day Marjánah went to an old cobbler near the gates
of the town who opened his stall early, put a piece of gold in his hand, and
bade him follow her with his needle and thread. Having bound his eyes with a
handkerchief, she took him to the room where the body lay, pulled off the
bandage, and bade him sew the quarters together, after which she covered his
eyes again and led him home. Then they buried Qásim, and Marjánah his slave
followed him to the grave, weeping and tearing her hair, while Qásim's wife
stayed at home uttering lamentable cries. Next day she went to live with Alí Bábá.
And that same day Alí Bábá set his eldest son up as proprietor in Qásim's shop.
The Forty Thieves, on their return to the cave, were much
astonished to find Qásim's body gone and some of their money-bags.
"We are certainly discovered," said the Captain,
"and shall be undone if we cannot find out who it is that knows our
secret. Two men must have known it; we have killed one, we must now find the
other. To this end one of you who is bold and artful must go into the city
dressed as a traveler, and discover whom we have killed, and whether men talk
of the strange manner of his death. If the messenger fails he must lose his
life, lest we be betrayed."
One of the thieves started up and offered to do this, and
after the rest had highly commended him for his bravery he disguised himself,
and happened to enter the town at daybreak, just by Bábá Mustafá's stall. The
thief bade him good-day, saying, "Honest man, how can you possibly see to
stitch at your age?"
"Old as I am," replied the cobbler, "I have
very good eyes, and will you believe me when I tell you that I sewed a dead
body together in a place where I had less light than I have now."
The robber was overjoyed at his good fortune, and, giving
him a piece of gold, desired to be shown the house where he stitched up the
dead body. At first Mustafá refused, saying that he had been blindfolded; but
when the robber gave him another piece of gold he began to think he might
remember the turnings if blindfolded as before. This means succeeded; the
robber partly led him, and was partly guided by him, right in front of Qásim's
house wherein now dwelt his brother Alí Bábá. The robber marked the door with a piece of chalk. Then, well pleased, he bade farewell to Bábá Mustafá and returned to the forest. By and by
Marjánah, going out, saw the mark the robber had made, quickly guessed that
some mischief was brewing, and fetching a piece of chalk marked two or three
doors on each side, without saying anything to her master or mistress.
The thief, meantime, told his comrades of his discovery. The
Captain thanked him, and bade him show him the house he had marked. But when
they came to it they saw that five or six of the houses were chalked in the
same manner. The guide was so confounded that he knew not what answer to make,
and when they returned he was at once beheaded for having failed.
Another robber was dispatched, and, having won over Bábá Mustafá,
marked the house in red chalk; but Marjánah was again too clever for them,
the second messenger was also put to death.
The Captain now resolved to go himself, but, wiser than the
others, he did not mark the house, but looked at it so closely that he could
not fail to remember it. He returned, and ordered his men to go into the
neighboring villages and buy nineteen mules, and thirty-eight leather jars, all
empty except one, which was full of oil. The Captain put one of his men, fully
armed, into each, rubbing the outside of the jars with oil from the full
vessel. Then the nineteen mules were loaded with thirty-seven robbers in jars,
and the jar of oil, and reached the town by dusk.
The Captain stopped his mules in front of Alí Bábá's house,
and said to Alí Bábá, who was sitting outside for coolness, "I have
brought some oil from a distance to sell at tomorrow's market, but it is now so
late that I know not where to pass the night, unless you will do me the favor
to take me in."
Though Alí Bábá had seen the Captain of the robbers in the
forest, he did not recognize him in the guise of an oil merchant. He bade
him welcome, opened his gates for the mules to enter, and went to Marjánah to
bid her prepare a bed and supper for his guest. He brought the stranger into
his hall, and after they had supped went again to speak to Marjánah in the
kitchen, while the Captain went into the yard under pretense of seeing after
his mules, but really to tell his men what to do.
Beginning at the first jar and ending at the last, he said
to each man, "As soon as I throw some stones from the window of the
chamber where I lie, cut the jars open with your knives and come out, and I
will be with you in a trice."
He returned to the house, and Marjánah led him to his
chamber. She then told Abdallah, her fellow slave, to set on the pot to make
some broth for her master, who had gone to bed. Meanwhile her lamp went out,
and she had no more oil in the house.
"Do not be uneasy," said Abdallah; "go into
the yard and take some out of one of the jars of our guest who has more than enough." Marjánah thanked him for his advice, took the oil pot, and
went into the yard. When she came to the first jar the robber inside said
softly, "Is it time?" Any other slave but Marjánah, on finding a man in the jar
instead of the oil she wanted, would have screamed and made a noise; but she,
knowing the danger her master was in, bethought herself of a plan, and answered
quietly, "Not yet, but presently."
She went to all the jars, giving the same answer, till she
came to the jar of oil. She now saw that her master, thinking to entertain an
oil merchant, had let thirty-eight robbers into his house. She filled her oil
pot, went back to the kitchen, and, having lit her lamp, went again to the oil
jar and filled a large kettle full of oil. When it boiled she went and poured
enough oil into one of the jars to stifle and kill the robber inside. She repeated
this ritual for every jar until all the robbers were dead. This brave deed now
done, she went back to the kitchen, put out the fire and the lamp, and waited
to see what would happen.
In a quarter of an hour the Captain of the robbers awoke,
got up, and opened the window. As all seemed quiet, he threw down some little
pebbles which hit the jars. He listened, and as none of his men seemed to stir
he grew uneasy, and went down into the yard. On going to the first jar and
saying, "Are you asleep?" he smelt the hot boiled oil, and knew at once
that his plot to murder Alí Bábá and his household had been discovered. He
found all the gang was dead, and, missing the oil out of the last jar, became
aware of the manner of their death. He then forced the lock of a door leading
into a garden, and climbing over several walls made his escape. Marjánah heard
and saw all this, and, rejoicing at her success, went to bed and fell asleep.
At daybreak Alí Bábá arose, and, seeing the oil jars still
there, asked why the merchant had not gone with his mules. Marjánah bade him
look in the first jar and see if there was any oil. Seeing a man instead, Alí Bábá started
back in terror. "Have no fear," Marjánah said quickly, "the man cannot
harm you; he is dead."
“O Marjánah, I am almost too frightened to ask what evils have we escaped and by what means is
this wretch become the quarry of Fate?”
“Praise
be to Almighty Allah!---I will tell you everything, but now I beg you to look into all these the jars.” answered Marjánah.
Alí Bábá examined the jars, one by one from first to last,
and when he had recovered somewhat from his astonishment, asked what had become
of the merchant.
"Merchant!" said she, "he is no more a
merchant than I am!" and she told him the whole story, assuring him that
it was a plot of the robbers of the forest, of whom only three were left, and
that the white and red chalk marks had something to do with it. Alí Bábá at
once gave Marjánah her freedom, saying that he owed her his life. They then
buried the bodies in Alí Bábá's garden, while the mules were sold in the market
by his slaves.
The Captain returned to his lonely cave, which seemed
frightful to him without his lost companions, and firmly resolved to avenge
them by killing Alí Bábá. He dressed himself carefully, and went into the town,
where he took lodgings in an inn. In the course of a great many journeys to the
forest he carried away many rich stuffs and much fine linen, and set up a shop
in the Bazar opposite that of Alí Bábá's son. He called himself Khwajah Hasan,
and as he was both civil and well dressed he soon made friends with Alí Bábá's
son, and through him with Alí Bábá, whom he was continually asking to sup with
him.
Alí Bábá, wishing to return his kindness, invited him into
his house and received him smiling, thanking him for his kindness to his son.
When the merchant was about to take his leave Alí Bábá
stopped him, saying, "Where are you going, sir, in such haste? Will you
not stay and sup with me?"
The merchant refused, saying that he had a reason; and, on Alí
Bábá's asking him what that was, he replied, "It is, sir, that I can eat
no victuals that have any salt in them."
"If that is all," said Alí Bábá, "let me tell
you that there shall be no salt in either the meat or the bread that we eat
to-night."
He went to give this order to Marjánah, who was much
surprised.
"Who is this man," she said, "who eats no
salt with his meat?"
"He is an honest man, Marjánah," returned her
master; "therefore do as I bid you."
But she could not withstand a desire to see this strange
man, so she helped Abdallah to carry up the dishes, and saw in a moment that Khwajah
Hasan was the robber Captain, and carried a dagger under his garment.
"I am not surprised," she said to herself,
"that this wicked man, who intends to kill my master, will eat no salt
with him; but I will hinder his plans."
She sent up the supper by Abdallah, while she made ready for
one of the boldest acts that could be imagined. When the dessert had been
served, Khwajah Hasan was left alone with Alí Bábá and his son, whom he thought
to make drunk and then to murder them. Marjánah, meanwhile, put on a headdress
like a dancing-girl's, and clasped a girdle round her waist, from which hung a
dagger with a silver hilt, and said to Abdallah, "Take your tabor, and let
us go and divert our master and his guest."
Abdallah took his tabor and played before Marjánah until
they came to the door, where Abdallah stopped playing and Marjánah made a low
courtesy.
"Come in, Marjánah," said Alí Bábá, "and let Khwajah
Hasan see what you can do"; and, turning to Khwajah Hasan, he said,
"She is a freed slave and my most trusted servant."
Khwajah Hasan was by no means pleased, for he feared that
his chance of killing Alí Bábá was gone for the present; but he pretended great
eagerness to see Marjánah, and Abdallah began to play and Marjánah to dance.
After she had performed several dances she drew her dagger and made passes with
it, sometimes pointing it at her own breast, sometimes at her master's, as if
it were part of the dance. Suddenly, out of breath, she snatched the tabor from
Abdallah with her left hand, and, holding the dagger in her right hand, held
out the tabor to her master. Alí Bábá and his son put a piece of gold into it,
and Khwajah Hasan, seeing that she was coming to him, pulled out his own purse in order to
make her a present, but while he was putting his hand into it Marjánah plunged
the dagger into his heart.
"Unhappy girl!" cried Alí Bábá, "what have
you done to ruin us?"
"It was to preserve you, master, not to ruin you,"
answered Marjánah. "See here," opening the false merchant's garment
and showing the dagger; "see what an enemy you have entertained! Remember,
he would eat no salt with you, and that made me curious to know more of this guest. Look at him! He is
both the false oil merchant and the Captain of the Forty Thieves!"
Alí Bábá was so grateful to Marjánah for again saving his
life that he offered her to his son in marriage, who readily consented, and a
few days after, the wedding was celebrated with the greatest possible splendor.
At the end of a year Alí
Bábá, hearing nothing of the two remaining robbers, judged they were dead, and
set out to the cave. He journeyed there with all care and caution, till finding
no signs of man or horse, he ventured near the door. Then alighting from
his beast, he went to the entrance and pronounced the words which he had not
forgotten, "Open Sesame!" The door flew open, and entering
the cave he saw the goods and hoard of gold and silver untouched and lying as
he had left them. So he felt assured that not one of all the thieves remained
alive, and, that save himself there was not a soul who knew the secret of the
place. At once he bound in his saddle-cloth a load of gold such as his horse
could bear and brought it home.
He told his son the secret of the cave,
which his son handed down in his turn,
so the children and grandchildren
of Alí Bábá were rich
to the end of their lives.
of Alí Bábá were rich
to the end of their lives.
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'Alí Bábá____
This form of the name, with an apostrophe and accents, is taken from the famous 1880s translation by Sir Richard F. Burton. In Burton's manuscript, the name appears this way in the very first line of the story, and then becomes plain Ali Baba for the rest of the story.
In my version the accents have been kept in place for the remainder of the tale, because I like the way they look; but I do leave out the apostrophe. (Being curious about that apostrophe, but finding no information about it in the Burton translation, I was fortunate to discover the following information in the introduction to an edition translated by Edward William Lane: “An apostrophe, when immediately preceding or following a vowel, I employ to denote the place of a letter which has no equivalent in our alphabet; it has a guttural sound like that which is heard in the bleating of sheep.”)
This form of the name, with an apostrophe and accents, is taken from the famous 1880s translation by Sir Richard F. Burton. In Burton's manuscript, the name appears this way in the very first line of the story, and then becomes plain Ali Baba for the rest of the story.
In my version the accents have been kept in place for the remainder of the tale, because I like the way they look; but I do leave out the apostrophe. (Being curious about that apostrophe, but finding no information about it in the Burton translation, I was fortunate to discover the following information in the introduction to an edition translated by Edward William Lane: “An apostrophe, when immediately preceding or following a vowel, I employ to denote the place of a letter which has no equivalent in our alphabet; it has a guttural sound like that which is heard in the bleating of sheep.”)
Arabian Nights manuscript, 14th Century
This version of Alí Bábá and the Forty Thieves was adapted from a retelling by Andrew Lang, as published in The Blue Fairy Book, Longmans, Green and Company, London (1891). Some lines from Sir Richard F. Burton's translation have been inserted for added color, the "praise to Allah," for example. Most of the spellings for the names are from the Burton translation as well, with one interesting exception: the name used here for the excellent slave "Marjánah" is found in a footnote in Burton's edition in which he explains that this is the correct version of the name but that he kept the use of "Morgiana" in his edition because, as he said, "I am unwilling to alter the time honoured corruption: properly it is written Marjánah = the "Coralline," from Marján = red coral..."
Well, Sir Richard, stick to your purpose! I used Marjánah!
The Blue Fairy Book
The Folio Society edition
