The Story of Little
Muck by Wilhelm Hauff
There lived at Nicea, my dear
native town, a man named Little
Muck. I can still remember
him very well, although I was
very young then, especially as I once received
from my father a sound thrashing for his
sake. Little Muck was already an old man
when I knew him, and only three or four
feet high. He presented a most extraordinary
appearance, and although his body was
stunted and thin, yet he had a head which
was much larger and thicker than that of
other people. He lived quite alone in a
large house, and acted as his own cook;
people, moreover, in the town would never
have known whether he was alive or dead,
for he only went out once a month, were it
not that at mid-day a powerful steam arose
from his house; but he was often seen during
the evening walking up and down his roof,
and people in the street thought that his
immense head only promenaded on the roof.
My playmates and myself were wicked
youngsters, always ready enough to mock
people and laugh at them, and whenever
Little Muck came out it was a holiday for
us. On the day he went out we met before
his house, waiting for his appearance. When
the door opened, and his immense head,
together with a much larger turban, peeped
out, followed by his little body, dressed in
a shabby little cloak, wide trousers, and a
broad girdle, to which was attached a long
dagger of such an immense size that people
did not know whether Muck was fastened to
the dagger or the dagger to him—when he
came out, the air resounded with our loud
cries of joy; we threw up our caps into the
air and danced like maniacs round about
him. Little Muck, nevertheless, bowed to
us with a grave and dignified air, and
marched down the street with slow steps,
dragging his feet as he walked, for he wore
such large and broad slippers as I had never
seen before.
We boys ran after him always shouting:
‘Little Muck! Little Muck!’ We had also
made a little rhyme about him which we
sang in honour of him now and then,
namely:
‘Little Muck, Little Muck,
What an awful fright you look! In a big house you reside, Only once a month outside. You are a plucky dwarf, but still Your head is almost like a hill; Do but just turn round and look, Run and catch us, Little Muck!’
We had often played this joke, and I must
confess to my shame mine was the worst.
I often pulled him by his cloak, and once
I planted my foot on the end of his great
slippers from behind, so that he fell down.
This at first caused me great delight, but I
soon ceased to laugh when I saw Little
Muck go towards my father’s house. He
really entered it, and remained in it for some
time. I secreted myself behind the door
and saw Little Muck come out again, accompanied
by my father, who held him respectfully
by the hand, and took leave of him at
the door, after many bows. I felt very
uneasy, and remained for a long time in my
hiding-place; but at length hunger, which I
dreaded still more than the thrashing, forced
me to come out, and, shame-faced and with
bent head, I presented myself before my
father. ‘I hear you have insulted the good
Muck?’ he said in a very stern voice. ‘I
want to tell you the history of this Muck,
and I am certain you will never mock him
again; in any case, however, before or after,
you will get your punishment.’ This punishment
meant twenty-five strokes, which he
counted with only too great an exactness.
He took his long pipe, screwed off the amber
mouth-piece, and acquitted himself more
vigorously of the task than he had ever done
before.
After having received the five-and-twenty
strokes, my father ordered me to pay attention,
and related to me the story of Little
Muck.
The father of Little Muck, whose real
name was Mukrah, was a distinguished but
poor man here in Nicea. He, too, lived in
almost as solitary a manner as his son does
at present. Unfortunately, he did not like
him, because his dwarfed stature made him
ashamed of the boy, and consequently he
had him brought up in ignorance. Little
Muck, when in his sixteenth year, was still
a frolicsome child; and his father, a stern
man, continually reproached him with still
being so childish, and also on account of his
ignorance and stupidity.
The old man, however, had a bad fall one
day, in consequence of which he died, leaving
behind little Muck, poor and ignorant. His
harsh relatives, to whom the deceased owed
more than he was able to pay, turned the
poor little fellow out of the house, and advised
him to go abroad to seek his fortune.
Little Muck said that he was already prepared
for the journey; and only asked to be
allowed to take his father’s clothes with him,
to which they agreed. His father had been
a tall, powerful man, and therefore his
clothes did not fit him. Muck, however,
soon devised an expedient; he cut off all
that was superfluous with respect to length,
and then donned the garments. He seemed,
however, to have forgotten the curtailing of
them in their amplitude, hence his whimsical
attire, which he wears to this day; the large
turban, the broad girdle, the wide trousers,
the little blue cloak, all these are heirlooms
of his father, which he has always worn; his
father’s long Damascus dagger he planted
in his girdle, and with a little staff in his
hand, he set out on his journey.
Joyfully he walked along all day, for he
had set out to seek his fortune. If he saw
a bit of broken glass on the road glittering
in the sunshine, he would put it into his
pocket, really believing it would turn into
the most beautiful diamond. If he saw in
the distance the glittering cupolas of a
mosque, or the sea smooth as glass, he
would hasten towards it joyously, thinking
he had arrived in some enchanted country.
But alas! These phantoms disappeared as
he approached them, and only too soon did
his fatigue and the complaints of his hungry
stomach remind him that he was still in the
land of mortals.
Thus he had travelled for two days,
hungry, weary, and in despair, endeavouring
to seek his fortune; the fruits of the field
were his only food, the hard earth his couch.
On the morning of the third day he perceived
from the top of a hill a large town.
The Crescent glittered upon the cupolas,
coloured banners floated upon the roofs,
seeming to beckon Little Muck to come
to them. He stood still a moment quite
surprised, looking upon the town and its
environs. ‘Yes, that is the place where
Little Muck will make his fortune,’ he said
to himself; and notwithstanding his weariness
he stepped forward, ‘there or nowhere.’
He summoned up all his strength and strode
towards the city. But although it appeared
so close, he did not reach it till mid-day, for
his little legs almost entirely refused their
office, so that he was obliged to sit down
frequently under the shade of a palm-tree to
take rest. At length he reached his destination.
He arranged his little cloak, improved
the position of his turban, broadened his
girdle still more, and planted his long dagger
in a still more oblique position; he then
wiped the dust from his shoes, armed himself
with his little staff, and bravely entered
the city.
He had already strolled through many
streets, but nowhere a door opened
to him, nowhere people called out to
him as he had imagined: ‘Little Muck,
come in, eat and drink, and rest your tiny
legs.’
He was again looking up very longingly
before a large and beautiful house, when a
window opened, an old woman looked out
of it, and exclaimed in a singing voice:
‘Come on, come on,
The broth is done; Laid is the cloth, Enjoy the broth; Neighbours come, The broth is done.’
The door of the house opened, and Muck
saw many dogs and cats go into the house.
He remained for some moments in a state
of uncertainty, as to whether he should
respond to the invitation; at length, however,
he summoned up sufficient courage
and entered the house. Before him trotted
a pair of young cats. He determined to
follow them, because they might know the
way to the kitchen better than he.
When Muck had reached the top of the
stairs, he met the old woman who had
looked out of the window. She looked at
him sulkily, and demanded of him what he
wanted. ‘I have heard you inviting everybody
to your feast,’ answered little Muck,
‘and as I am terribly hungry I have come
as well.’ The old woman laughed and
said: ‘Where do you come from, you
strange creature? The whole town knows
that I cook for nobody except my dear
cats, and now and again I invite company
from the neighbourhood for them, as you
see.’ Little Muck related to the old woman
how badly he had fared after his father’s
death, and entreated her to allow him to
feast this day with her cats. The woman,
who seemed pleased at the unaffected story
of the little man, allowed him to be her
guest, and gave him plenty to eat and
drink. After having regaled himself, the
woman looked at him for a long time and
then said: ‘Little Muck, remain in my
service, you will have little to do and plenty
to eat.’ Little Muck, who seemed to have
enjoyed the cats’ broth, agreed, and thus
became Madam Ahavzi’s servant. His
work was light but strange. Lady Ahavzi
owned two cats and four kittens. Little
Muck had to brush their fur and anoint
them with precious ointment every morning;
if their mistress was absent, he had to take
care of them; at their meals he had to
wait upon them, and at night put them
upon silk cushions and wrap them up in
velvet coverlets.
There were besides some little dogs in
the house which he also had to wait upon,
but not so much attention was bestowed
upon these as upon the cats, who were
treated like Lady Ahavzi’s own children.
Altogether, Muck now lived almost as
solitarily as when he was in his late father’s
house; for, with the exception of his mistress,
he only saw, during the whole day, cats
and dogs. For a short time little Muck
fared very well, he had always plenty to
eat and little to do, and the old woman
seemed to be quite satisfied with him; but
by degrees the cats became troublesome;
whenever the old lady was out they bounded
about the room like mad, setting everything
pell-mell, and breaking many valuable vases
which stood in their way. But when they
heard their mistress coming up the stairs
they crept up to their cushions, wagging
their little tails to welcome her as if nothing
had occurred. Lady Ahavzi then became
angry on seeing her rooms in such a disordered
state, blaming Muck for it; and
however much he might protest his innocence,
she had more confidence in her
cats, which looked so innocent, than in her
own servant.
Little Muck was very sad that he had
not found his fortune here, and resolved to
quit the service of Madam Ahavzi. But
as he had discovered during his former
travels how difficult it was to live without
money, he determined to obtain his wages,
which his mistress had always promised,
but never given him, by some means or
other. In the house of Madam Ahavzi was
a chamber which was always locked, and
the interior of which he had never seen.
He had, however, often heard the woman
making a noise in it, and for the life of him
he would have liked to know what she kept
hidden there. While thinking of his money
for travelling, it occurred to him that it
was probably there that Madam Ahavzi
kept her treasures. The door, however,
was always firmly locked, and he was unable
therefore to get near them.
One morning, after Madam Ahavzi had
gone out, one of the little dogs which had
always been treated by her very badly, whose
favour, however, he had gained in a high
degree by showing it many acts of kindness,
pulled him by his full trousers, and made
signs to him as if to induce Muck to follow
him. Muck, who had always been fond of
playing with the little dog, followed it, and
behold, the little dog conducted him into
the bedroom of Madam Ahavzi, and to a
little door which he had never seen there
before. The door was ajar. The little dog
went in, Muck following it, and he was
agreeably surprised to find himself in the
room which had been so long the aim of his
wishes. He spied in every corner to see if
he could find any money, but all in vain.
Only old clothes and strangely-shaped vases
were lying about. One of these vases
especially attracted his attention. It was
of crystal, and beautiful figures were cut on
it. He took it up and turned it about on all
sides. But, oh terror! He had not noticed
that it had a cover which was only lightly
placed upon it. The cover dropped, and
broke into a thousand pieces.
For a long time Little Muck stood there
petrified with fear. His fate was now decided,
and nothing remained for him but to
run away, otherwise the old woman would
kill him. He immediately determined upon
going, but once more he looked round to
see if he could make use of some of Lady
Ahavzi’s property. His eyes fell on a mighty
pair of slippers. They were not very pretty,
but his own could not stand another journey.
They also attracted his attention on account
of their immense size, for if his feet were
once in them, all must plainly see that he
had discarded children’s boots. He quickly
took off his little slippers, and put on the
big ones. A pretty little staff with a lion’s
head carved on its top seemed also to be
standing idle in the corner, so taking possession
of it, he hastened out of the room. He
then went quickly to his room, donned his
little cloak, put on his paternal turban,
planted the dagger in his girdle, and ran as
fast as his legs could carry him, out of the
house and the gates of the town.
Outside the town he kept on running,
being afraid of the old woman, until at last
he was overcome by fatigue. Never in all
his life had he gone so fast, nay, it seemed
to him as if he could go on continually, for
some invisible power seemed to urge him
on. He perceived at last that his slippers
were under the influence of some charm, for
they kept on stepping forward, and dragging
him along. He tried by all sorts of means
to stand still, but all in vain. At last, being
in the greatest danger, he called out just as
if he were guiding horses: ‘Ho! ho! halt
ho!’ The slippers immediately pulled up,
and Muck threw himself exhausted on the
ground.
He was immensely pleased with the slippers.
After all, he had acquired something
by his work, which might assist him on his
way in the world, to make his fortune. In
spite of his joy he fell asleep from fatigue,
for the little body of Mr. Muck, which had
to carry such an enormous head, was not
very strong. In a dream the little dog
which had assisted him in obtaining the
slippers in Madam Ahavzi’s house appeared
to him and said: ‘Dear Muck, you do not
seem properly to understand the use of the
slippers: Learn, if you turn in them three
times on your heel, you can fly wherever
you like, and with the little cane you can
discover treasures: for wherever there is
gold buried it will strike the ground three
times, and where silver lies twice.’
Thus dreamt Little Muck. When he was
awake he meditated upon the strange dream,
and soon resolved to make a trial. He put
on the slippers, lifted one foot in the air and
turned himself about on the other. Whoever
has tried the feat of turning round thrice
successively in a slipper too large for him
will not be astonished at hearing that Little
Muck did not succeed very well in his first
attempt, especially if one takes into consideration
that his enormous head sometimes
dragged him to the right and sometimes to
the left.
The poor little fellow fell several times
heavily on his nose; nevertheless he did
not allow himself to be discouraged from
repeating the experiment, and finally he succeeded.
Like a wheel he turned round on
his heel, wishing himself to be transported
to the nearest large town, whereupon his
slippers lifted him up into the air, fled through
the clouds as if they had wings, and before
he could recover his senses he found himself
in a large market-place, where many
booths were pitched, and where a number of
people were busily running to and fro. He
went about amongst the people, but found
it advisable to go into a more quiet street,
for in the market-place people put their feet
upon his slippers, which nearly made him
fall down; and further, his long dagger every
now and then pushed against some one or
other, so that he just escaped being beaten.
Little Muck now began seriously to think
what he could do to earn some money.
Though he had a little staff indicating to
him hidden treasures, yet where could he
discover a place, on the spur of the moment,
where gold or silver was buried? He
might have exhibited himself in case of
necessity, but he was too proud for that.
At length the quick movements of his limbs
occurred to him. ‘Perhaps,’ he thought,
‘my slippers may support me,’ and he resolved
to offer his services as courier, thinking
it possible that the King of this town
might remunerate him handsomely for such
services, and he inquired after the palace.
Near the gate of the palace stood a sentry,
who asked him what he wanted. He said
that he was looking for work, and was
shown to the overseer of the slaves. He
told the latter his request, and petitioned
him to find him a place amongst the royal
messengers. The overseer looked at him
from head to foot, and said: ‘What! you,
with your little limbs, which are scarcely a
span in length, wish to become a royal
messenger! Get away, I have no time for
joking with a fool.’
Little Muck, however, assured him that
he was quite in earnest with his offer, and
that he would venture a wager to outstrip
the swiftest runner. The affair seemed
very ridiculous to the overseer. He ordered
him to be prepared for a race in the evening,
took him into the kitchen, and took
care that he was supplied with plenty to
eat and drink. The overseer himself went
to the King, and told him about this little
man and his offer. The King, who was a
pleasant master, approved of the overseer
for having kept Little Muck for a joke. He
ordered him to make preparations on a
large meadow behind the palace in order
that the race might be conveniently seen by
his whole royal household, and finally told
him to look well after the dwarf.
The King related to the Princes and
Princesses what sort of an entertainment
they would have in the evening. The
latter told their servants of it, and as the
evening approached, all were in eager expectation;
they hastened towards the
meadow, where scaffolds were erected, in
order to see the boasting dwarf run.
After the King, his sons and his daughters
had taken their seats, Little Muck appeared
upon the meadow, saluting the
assemblage with an extremely courteous
bow. General shouts of joy resounded on
the little man appearing; such a figure had
never been seen there before. The little
man’s body with its immense head, his little
cloak and large trousers, the long dagger in
the broad girdle, his little feet in his
slippers: No! this was too funny a sight
for people not to laugh. Little Muck, however,
did not allow himself to be abashed
by the laughter. He proudly took his
place, leaning on his little cane, and awaited
his adversary. The overseer of the slaves
had, at Muck’s request, selected the quickest
runner. The latter now came forward,
placing himself by the side of the little man,
and both waited for the signal. Then the
Princess Amarza, as had been arranged,
nodded from under her veil, and like two
arrows shot at the same target, the runners
rushed forward over the meadow.
At first Muck’s adversary had a decided
advantage, but the former on his slipper-conveyance
chased him, overtook him,
passed him, and reached the goal long
before the other came along gasping for
breath. The spectators were for some
moments stupefied with admiration and
astonishment, but when first the King applauded,
then the whole multitude followed
his example, and all shouted:
‘Long live Little Muck, the winner of the
race!’
In the meantime Little Muck had been
fetched. He prostrated himself before the
King, and said: ‘All powerful King, this is
merely a trifle of my art; and now condescend
to assign me a place amongst your
couriers.’ The King replied: ‘No, you
shall be my private runner, and always
about me. You shall have for your salary
a hundred gold pieces annually, and you
shall dine with my chief courtiers.’
Muck now at last thought he had found
his fortune, which he had sought after for
so long a time, and rejoiced inwardly. He
also rejoiced at the special favour of the
King, for the latter employed him for the
quickest and most secret despatches, which
Little Muck executed with the greatest exactitude,
and with incomprehensible rapidity.
The other servants, however, were jealous
of him, because they thought themselves
lessened in the favour of their master,
through a dwarf, who understood nothing
else but running. Many conspiracies,
therefore, were plotted against him in order
to ruin him; but all failed, on account of
the great confidence which the King placed
in his chief private runner, for he had risen
to this dignity in a short time.
Muck, who was not blind to these intrigues,
did not think of avenging himself; he was
too noble-hearted for that. No, he rather
thought of some means by which he might
make himself indispensable, and liked by
his enemies. He then recollected his little
staff, which he had forgotten in his fortunate
circumstances; if he discovered treasures,
he thought, then perhaps his companions
might look upon him with a more favourable
eye.
He had often been told that the father of
the present King had buried a great part of
his treasures at a time when the enemy
invaded his country; it was also said that
he had died since, without having been
able to communicate his secret to his son.
Henceforward Muck always took his little
cane with him, hoping that some day he
might pass the place where the money of
the old King lay buried. One evening
chance led him to a lonely spot in the King’s
garden, a place which he little frequented,
when suddenly he felt his little cane jerking
in his hand, and striking the ground three
times. He was already aware what this
meant. He therefore drew his dagger,
notched the trees surrounding the place, and
returned to the castle: he now procured a
spade, and waited until nightfall for his
enterprise.
His searching for the treasures gave Little
Muck more trouble than he had expected.
His arms were very weak, his spade too
large and heavy, and he worked for more
than two hours before he had dug two feet
in depth. At length he struck against
something hard, which gave a metallic
sound. He now dug away more vigorously,
and soon succeeded in bringing to light a
large iron lid; he himself got into the hole
in order to discover what the lid might cover,
and he really found a large urn filled with
gold pieces. His feeble powers, however,
were insufficient to lift the urn, and he
therefore put into his trousers and girdle as
much as he could carry; he stuffed his little
cloak with as much as he could, and put it on
his back, having concealed the rest very carefully.
But, as a matter of fact, if he had
not had his slippers on, he would not have
been able to proceed, so heavily the gold
weighed on him. Unobserved, he reached
his room, and there concealed his gold
underneath the cushions of his couch.
When Little Muck found himself the
owner of so much gold he thought matters
would now undergo a change, and that
he would gain amongst his enemies at court
many patrons and warm friends. Judging
from this, it was but too obvious that
Little Muck could not have received a very
careful education, otherwise he would not
have imagined that it was possible to gain
real friends with gold. Alas! he had much
better have greased his slippers then, and
made his escape with his little cloak filled
with gold as quickly as he could.
The gold which Little Muck now freely distributed
excited the jealousy of the other
courtiers. The chief cook Ahuli said: ‘He
is a coiner.’ Achmet, the overseer of the
slaves, said: ‘He has obtained it from the
King by talking.’ Archaz, the treasurer,
however, his bitterest enemy, who himself
from time to time dipped into the King’s
cash-box, said openly: ‘He has stolen it.’
Now in order to make quite sure of their
affair, they plotted together, and the chief
cup-bearer Korchuz presented himself one
day very sad and downcast before the King.
He dissimulated in such a way that the
King asked him what was the matter with
him. ‘Alas!’ he answered, ‘I am sad for
having lost the grace of my master.’ ‘What
are you raving about, friend Korchuz?’ said
the King. ‘How long has the sunshine of
my favour ceased to fall on you?’ The chief
cup-bearer answered him that he had
lavished so much gold on his private chief
runner, and forgotten him, his poor and
faithful servant, altogether.
The King was much astonished at this
news, and caused little Muck’s distributions
of gold to be related to him, and the conspirators
easily made him suspect that
Muck by some means or other had stolen
the money from the treasury. The treasurer
was very pleased at this turn of
affairs, and besides, was reluctant to give an
account of the state of his books. The
King therefore ordered them to watch all
the movements of Little Muck, in order to
surprise him if possible in the act of stealing.
When, therefore, during the night following
this fatal day, Little Muck took the
spade in order to go into the King’s garden
to get a fresh supply from his secret treasure,
because he had exhausted his store
through his liberality, he was followed by
the sentries, headed by the chief cook
Ahuli and the treasurer Archaz; and just
as he was about to put the gold into his
little cloak they attacked him, bound him,
and brought him immediately before the
King. The latter, whose disturbed slumbers
had not put him in a very good humour,
received his poor chief private runner very
ungraciously, and examined him immediately.
The pot had been dug completely
out of the ground, and with the spade, as
well as the little cloak filled with gold, had
been placed before the King. The treasurer
alleged that he had surprised Muck with
his sentinels at the moment when he had
buried this pot of gold in the ground.
The King questioned the accused as to
whether it was true, and where he had got
the gold which he had buried. Little Muck
assured him of his innocence, and said that
he had discovered this pot in the garden,
and that he was not going to bury it, but to
dig it out.
All present laughed at this excuse; the
King, however, greatly exasperated at the
barefaced impudence of the little man, exclaimed:
‘You wretch! You dare to impose
on your King in such a gross fashion,
after having robbed him? Treasurer Archaz,
I call upon you to say whether you
recognise this sum of gold as the same
which is missing from my treasury?’ The
treasurer said he was quite sure that so
much and still more had been missing for
some time from the royal treasury, and that
he was prepared to affirm it with an oath
that this was the stolen money.
Thereupon the King ordered Little Muck
to be put in heavy chains and taken to the
tower; the gold he gave to the treasurer, in
order to restore it to the treasury. Delighted
at the fortunate result of the affair,
he left, and counted the glittering gold
pieces at home; but the bad man never
announced that there had been at the
bottom of the pot a piece of paper on which
was written: ‘The enemy has inundated
my country, therefore I bury here part of
my treasures; whoever the finder may be
is cursed by the King if he does not immediately
deliver it up to my son. King
Sadi.’
Little Muck made sad reflections in his
prison; he knew that death was the punishment
for stealing the King’s property, yet
he did not intend to reveal the secret of the
little staff to the King, fearing he should
be deprived of it as well as of his slippers.
His slippers could not assist him at all, for
he was chained close to a wall, and could
not, in spite of his endeavours, turn round
on his heel. When, however, on the next
day he was informed that he had to die, he
thought it best after all to live without the
magic wand rather than die with it, so he
requested the King for a private interview,
and revealed to him the secret. The King
at first had not much faith in his confession;
but Little Muck promised a trial if
the King assured him that he should not be
killed. The King gave him his word for
it, and, unknown to Muck, had some gold
buried in the ground, and told him to find
it with his little staff. In a few moments
he had discovered it, for the little staff
struck three times distinctly upon the
ground. The King now recognised that
his treasurer had deceived him, and sent
him, as is customary in the East, a silk
cord to hang himself with. But to Little
Muck he said: ‘Although I have promised
to spare your life, yet it seems to me you
possess more than the secret of this little
staff; therefore you shall pass the rest of
your days in captivity, unless you reveal
the means by which you run so swiftly.’
Little Muck, for whom one night in the
tower had been sufficient to make him hate
captivity, confessed that all his art lay in
his slippers; but he did not tell the King
the secret of turning three times on the heel.
The King himself slipped into the slippers
in order to make a trial, and rushed about
like a madman in his garden; he often
wanted to stop, but he did not know how it
was possible, and Little Muck, who could
not help avenging himself a little, allowed
him to run until he fell down fainting.
When the King had gained consciousness
again, he was terribly angry with Little Muck
for having let him run about breathless. ‘I
have pledged my word to set you at liberty,
and to spare your life. Quit my kingdom
within twelve hours, else I will have you
hung.’ The slippers and the little staff,
however, were put into his treasury.
As poor as before, Little Muck left the
country, cursing his folly which had deceived
him in imagining that he might play a
prominent part at Court. Fortunately, the
country from which he was banished was
not extensive, and after eight hours he
reached the frontier, although he had some
difficulty in walking, for he was accustomed
to his dear slippers.
After he had crossed the frontier he struck
out of the main path to find the most solitary
spot of the forest, intending to live there
only for himself, for he hated all mankind.
In a dense forest he chanced upon a little
place, which seemed quite suitable to him
according to the plan which he had formed.
A clear stream, surrounded by gigantic and
shady fig-trees and a soft piece of turf, invited
him to throw himself down, and it was here
that he intended to take no more nourishment,
but to await death. Over these reflections
of death he fell asleep; but on awaking,
and when hunger tormented him, he came
to the conclusion that after all to die of
hunger was a terrible thing, and looked
around to see if he could find anything
to eat.
There were some delicious ripe figs on the
tree under which he had slept, so he climbed
up the tree to gather some, enjoyed them
heartily, and then came down to quench his
thirst in the brook. But how great was his
terror when his reflection in the water
showed him his head ornamented with two
immense ears and a thick long nose. In
dismay he seized his ears with his hands;
indeed they were more than half a yard long.
‘I deserve donkey’s ears!’ he exclaimed,
‘for I have, like an ass, trampled upon my
fortune.’ He wandered amongst the trees,
and on feeling hungry again, he ate once
more of the figs, for there was nothing else
eatable on the trees. Whilst he was eating
the second lot of figs it occurred to him that
there might be room enough for his ears
under his great turban, so as not to appear
too ridiculous; but he felt that his ears had
disappeared! He immediately returned to
the brook, in order to make sure of it. And
indeed it was true; his ears had assumed
their former appearance, and also his long
and unshapely nose had changed. He now
perceived how all this had happened; it was
owing to the figs from the first tree that he
had got the long nose and ears; the second
had healed him. Gladly he recognised that
his good fortune had once again given him
the means of being happy. He therefore
gathered from each tree as much as he could
carry, and returned to the country which he
had recently quitted. In the first little town
he entered he disguised himself, and without
stopping went towards the city where the
King resided, and soon arrived there.
It happened to be the season of the year
when ripe fruits were scarce; Little Muck
therefore sat down near the gate of the
palace, for he remembered that in former
times the chief cook bought such rarities for
the royal table. Muck had only just sat
down when he saw the chief cook coming
across the court. He inspected the wares
of the sellers who had collected near the
gate of the palace; at last his attention was
directed towards Muck’s little basket. ‘Ah!
a rare bit,’ he said, ‘which His Majesty will
certainly enjoy. How much do you want
for the whole basketful?’ Little Muck asked
a moderate price, and they were soon agreed
over the bargain. The chief cook gave the
basket to a slave and continued his way.
Little Muck, however, ran away in the meantime,
for he feared that if the horrible
developments were to appear on the heads
of those at Court, he being the seller might
be sought out and punished.
The King was in high spirits during
dinner, and complimented the chief cook
over and over again on account of his
excellent cooking, and care in always selecting
the best for him. The chief cook, however,
who was well aware what delicacy was
yet to come, smiled significantly, and merely
said, ‘The day is not over yet,’ or ‘All’s
well that ends well,’ so that the Princesses
became very curious what else was to come.
When, therefore, he had the splendid inviting
figs served up, there was a universal cry of
‘Ah!’ from all present. ‘How beautiful,
how inviting!’ exclaimed the King. ‘Chief
cook, you are a capital fellow, and worthy
of our entire favour.’ In speaking thus the
King himself distributed these delicacies,
with which he was always very frugal, to
every one at table. Each Prince and each
Princess received two, the ladies in waiting,
the viziers, and the officers one each, the
rest he placed before himself, and commenced
to eat them with a good appetite.
‘But dear me, how peculiar you look,
father!’ exclaimed Princess Amarza all at
once. All looked at the King in surprise:
immense ears hung down on his head, a
long nose extended down his chin. All the
guests looked at each other with astonishment
and terror; all were more or less
adorned with this peculiar head-dress.
The consternation of the Court may be
easily imagined. They immediately sent
for all the physicians in the town, who came
in troops, prescribed pills and mixtures, but
the ears and noses remained. An operation
was performed on one of the Princes, but
the ears budded out again.
Muck had heard of the whole affair in his
hiding-place, and thought now was the time
for him to act. He had already procured
for himself a dress with the money which he
had obtained for the figs, and now appeared
as a wise man. A long beard of goat’s hair
disguised him completely. He entered the
palace of the King with a little bag filled
with figs, and offered his services as a foreign
physician. At first they were somewhat
sceptical, but after Little Muck had given a
fig to one of the Princes to eat, and when
the latter’s ears and nose again assumed
their original shape, then all desired to be
cured by the foreign physician. The King,
however, took him silently by the hand and
led him into his apartment; he there unlocked
a door which led into the treasury,
beckoning Muck to follow him. ‘Here
are my treasures,’ said the King; ‘make
your selection, and whatever it be, you shall
have, if you rid me of this frightful evil.’
This was sweet music to the ears of Little
Muck; immediately on entering he had seen
his slippers lying on the floor, together with
his little staff. He now went about the
room as if he were desirous of admiring the
King’s treasures. Scarcely, however, had
he come to his slippers when he quietly
slipped into them, seized his little staff, tore
off his false beard, and displayed to the
amazed King the well-known features of the
exiled Muck. ‘Perfidious King,’ he said,
‘who repay with ingratitude faithful services,
take as a well-deserved punishment the
deformity which has overtaken you. You
shall wear the long ears in order that they
may remind you daily of Little Muck.’
After having said this he quickly turned
round on his heel, wishing himself far away,
and before the King was able to call for
assistance Little Muck was out of sight.
Ever since Little Muck lives here in great
wealth, but secluded, for he hates men.
Experience has taught him wisdom, and
notwithstanding his strange exterior, he
rather deserves your admiration than your
mockery.
That is the story which my father told
me. I repented of my unworthy conduct
towards the good little man, and my father
remitted the other half of the punishment
which was yet in store for me. I related to
my comrades the marvellous adventures of
the little man, and we became so fond of
him that none of us ever mocked him again.
On the contrary, we respected him as long
as he lived, and always bowed to him with
as much respect as we should have done
before a Cadi or a Mufti. |