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Black Republic of Letters

Note - René Goblet

René Goblet (1828-1905) was a French statesman who served as Prime Minister of France from 1886 to 1887. Learn more about René Goblet.

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Miscellany
Chinese Ingenuity
Would you like to know the formalities that travelers in China must go through to obtain a passport? They coat the palm of their hand with oil paint, then press it onto a thin, damp sheet of paper, which retains the imprint of the lines. Since the lines on two people's hands are almost never identical, this prevents travellers from lending their passports to each other.

The subtlety of the Chinese has also discovered that the thumbprints of two different people or the thumbs of the same person are not the same. The Chinese police therefore simply keep the thumbprints of every criminal. Criminals can then shave and wear wigs; no matter what disguise they adopt, they can never change their thumbprints, which can be compared at any time with those stored at the central police office of the Celestial Empire.

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Ministerial Setbacks
Lord Salisbury recently had a minor mishap that greatly amused the people of London and Paris. Customs officers in New Haven seized one of his carriages containing a considerable supply of rum, cognac, cigars, and sugar, which his people were trying to smuggle. The coachman, refusing to pay the fine, was arrested.

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The other day, Mr. Goblet got on the bus without realizing he had forgotten his wallet. It can happen to anyone. The driver, showing no consideration for the former prime minister, made him get off. He was strictly within his rights. But the irascible statesman, sensitive to this affront, sent a strongly worded complaint to the company. The company replied: “The driver you are complaining about followed his instructions and observed the rules.”

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Gounod and Barnum
The author of Faust is currently involved in a lawsuit that deeply upsets his true friends. The subject of the dispute is very simple: Gounod—hard to believe—apparently promised some barnum in the United States that he would follow him and conduct an orchestra across the Star-Spangled Republic.

The deal must have been attractive. The Americans promised no less than a million francs for the French musician; they also undertook to pay his travel expenses and those of the servant who would accompany him. But at the last moment, Mr. Gounod withdrew his word. He apologized, saying that his age and health would not allow him to endure the fatigue inherent in such a journey, and... he received a summons from his opponents.

This trial brings to mind a typical anecdote in which a renowned French pianist was once the hero. The artist had signed a contract that required him to go and perform on the other side of the Atlantic. He arrived in a major city in the United States, where his manager had, he said, arranged a concert: the fee was regal, the cash register overflowing with dollars, the fruit of advance ticket sales for the venue. A huge round of applause was inevitable. The virtuoso was promised a triumph.

The pianist followed his barnum.

And indeed, he found an enthusiastic audience, a packed house, and a full box office; the men in black suits, the women in low-cut dresses...

But... but on the stage set up for the occasion, there was no piano to be seen!

The artist, initially delighted, soon began to show signs of understandable concern; he had planned to play Beethoven and Mozart. But on what instrument?

Slightly disconcerted, he stepped forward toward the audience and bowed, then turned toward his barnum:

“Where is the piano?” he asked in a low voice.

“The piano! There isn't one,” replied the American.

"There isn't one!" said the artist. "Then what am I supposed to do?"

“Sing them the Marseillaise, and they'll be satisfied,” said the interlocutor with a friendly smile.

History does not tell us what the pianist did.

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The Prince of Labourers
It seems that in the Prussian monarchy, the excellent custom of teaching all children of princely families a manual trade is still followed. Emperor Frederick was a carpenter, and Wilhelm II is said to be a skilled bookbinder. The three sons of Prince Albert of Prussia, two of whom are masons and the third a carpenter, are currently building a pavilion under the supervision of master craftsmen. And Prince Albert himself is supervising the work.

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Louise Michel, flower vendor
The famous lecturer preferred to set herself up as a flower seller in Covent Garden rather than let the French government lock her up as insane—which would have happened sooner or later.

We are happy to report that she is putting on weight, thanks to the countless beers she continues to drink in the company of German and Russian refugees.

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René Goblet