The manufacture of musical instruments is occasionally taken up very successfully by amateur craftsmen. They may even produce striking innovations in the field. Yet these men, as modest as they are ingenious, wouldn’t dream of sending their products to Universal Exhibitions; they seek for themselves neither patent rights nor gold medals nor even the lowest-rank ribbon of the Légion d’Honneur.

One of them paid a visit one day to his neighbour in the Provence countryside, Monsieur d’Ortigue, a well-known critic and distinguished musician. As he entered the living-room, he said “Ah, I see you have a piano.”

“Yes, a fine Érard.”

“I have one too.”

“An Érard?”

“No, it’s actually a piano of my own. I made it myself, using an entirely new system. If you’re interested in seeing it, I’ll have it loaded on to my cart tomorrow and bring it over.”

“Please do.”

The following day the rustic amateur arrives with his cart; the piano is brought in and the lid opened, and Monsieur d’Ortigue is very surprised to see that the keyboard consists exclusively of white keys.

“What about the black keys?”, he asks.

“The black keys? Oh, you mean for sharps and flats; all that nonsense belongs to the old-fashioned piano, I don’t use them on mine.”