THE BALLAD-MAKER AND THE BOOT-MAKER.
There was a minstrel who went travelling about the country from time totime singing sweet songs which people loved to hear. His music was notlike the music of the Spanish people, for he came from the kingdom ofProvence, and every one thronged to hear the strange sweet melody. Andwhen he had passed on, and there was no one left to sing as he sang,people tried to remember his words and his tones, and to sing like him.
At one of the towns where he passed there was a boot-maker, who, as hesat all day alone at his last, diverted himself with singing; and as hehad sung a good deal, he thought he could sing very well. He was muchdelighted with the minstrel's songs, caught up a good many of them,and never tired of singing them--after his fashion. But from beingquite ignorant both of music and of the Provencal language, he made,as we should say, a great mess of it. Yet, as the people knew no moreabout it than himself, they were very well pleased to listen to him.
So, a long time after, when the Provencal minstrel came back thatway, they would not admit him, but cried out, "We have one of ourown people who sings your songs for us as well as you, and we needno Frenchman here."
Now the minstrel was one greatly devoted to his art, he did notmerely sing for sordid gain; so instead of being angry because hewas supplanted, he was really pleased to hear that the people in thatfar-off town had learnt the language and melody of his dear Provence;and he said he would hear the boot-maker himself.
Imagine how great was his annoyance and mortification, when he heardthe beautiful ballads lamed and spoilt by the rude, unlearned attemptsof the boot-maker!
"Is it possible," he said, "that this man has been deluding allthe people into the idea that what he sings is like my songs? Andhow can I prevent his going on keeping them under this error?" Thenhe bethought him what to do. He went by night to the boot-maker'sworkshop, and putting all the wrong pieces of leather together,he sewed them up into all sorts of foolish, useless shapes.
When daylight returned, and the boot-maker came to his work, he was ina great fury at what was done, and began shouting to the neighbours tocome and avenge him, for the Frenchman had spoilt all his work. Thenthey all came running helter-skelter to exercise summary justice onthe minstrel.
But the minstrel stood up and confronted them, and said, "Goodpeople! first hear me. This man is a maker of boots and I am a makerof ballads. True I have spoilt his boots, I do not deny it; but hefirst spoilt my ballads: what I have done is but fair. If you willhear us sing one after the other, you will yourselves give judgment inmy favour." So the people told the boot-maker to stand up and sing,which he did in his clumsy droning way, with plenty of false notesand mispronunciations. After him the minstrel stood up and warbled hissong in tones so soft and sweet, that the people wondered how they evercould have listened to the other, and with one voice they cried out,"The minstrel is right! The minstrel is right!"
Then the minstrel, who bore no malice, and had only acted out oflove for his art, repaid the boot-maker amply for all the damage tohis leather, but took a promise of him that he would never sing hissongs again.