Transcriber’s Note
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HOW TO BUILD A HOUSE.
[Illustration: THE OLD CHÂTEAU.]
HOW TO BUILD A HOUSE:
_AN ARCHITECTURAL NOVELETTE_.
BY
E. VIOLLET-LE-DUC.
TRANSLATED BY BENJAMIN BUCKNALL,
ARCHITECT
[Illustration: Two men talking]
LONDON:
SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, LOW, AND SEARLE,
CROWN BUILDINGS, 188, FLEET STREET.
1874.
[_All Rights Reserved._]
LONDON
R. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR, PRINTERS,
BREAD STREET HILL.
TRANSLATOR’S NOTE.
Among the voluminous and invaluable published works of M.
Viollet-le-Duc, none perhaps will have greater interest for the amateur
or for the practical architect than the “Histoire d’une Maison.” Of
all the architectural problems of the day there is not one of greater
importance or difficulty than that of building a house which shall
fulfil the various needs and conditions of a modern dwelling; and the
author has brought the results of a long course of study, observation,
and experience, to bear upon this problem in a most practically
instructive and fascinating shape. A lively narrative introduces the
reader to the minute and thorough discussion of every stage of the
processes involved, so that his attention is agreeably relieved; and
each step is illustrated by plates and diagrams, which render the
details intelligible even to the least informed student.
As the scene of this architectural novelette is laid in France, there
is much both in the general remarks and in the arrangements of the
building described which only applies to the social conditions and
requirements of the French. But the value of the principles laid down
and the practical instruction conveyed is not thereby materially
lessened, since every page of the book exhibits important truths or
excellent methods, which are of general application. By following
out those principles it would be easy to obtain the same admirable
adaptation of arrangement, soundness of construction, and charm of
design for an English house, which the author has so ably laid down and
fully illustrated in reference to its French counterpart.
It may be interesting to the reader to know that the “Histoire d’une
Maison” was written and illustrated by M. Viollet-le-Duc during the
evenings of two months—July and August—of last year (1873), which were
spent by him in the Alps for the purpose of surveying and mapping for
the French Government the whole of the French Alps—a task accomplished
by him, _alone and unassisted_, with minute accuracy and beauty of
delineation, and in a marvellously brief time.
BENJAMIN BUCKNALL,
_Architect_.
OYSTERMOUTH, SWANSEA,
_April 1st, 1874_.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
PAUL GETS AN IDEA 1
CHAPTER II.
WITH A LITTLE HELP, PAUL’S IDEA IS DEVELOPED 13
CHAPTER III.
THE TREE OF KNOWLEDGE 26
CHAPTER IV.
PAUL’S IDEAS RESPECTING ART, AND HOW THEY WERE MODIFIED 31
CHAPTER V.
PAUL PURSUES A COURSE OF STUDY IN PRACTICAL ARCHITECTURE 40
CHAPTER VI.
HOW PAUL IS LED TO RECOGNIZE CERTAIN DISTINCTIONS
BETWEEN ETHICS AND ARCHITECTURE 60
CHAPTER VII.
SETTING OUT THE FOUNDATIONS OF THE HOUSE, AND OPERATIONS
ON THE GROUND 71
CHAPTER VIII.
PAUL REFLECTS 81
CHAPTER IX.
PAUL, CLERK OF THE WORKS 88
CHAPTER X.
PAUL BEGINS TO UNDERSTAND 96
CHAPTER XI.
THE BUILDING IN ELEVATION 106
CHAPTER XII.
OBSERVATIONS ADDRESSED TO EUGÈNE BY PAUL, AND THE
REPLIES MADE TO THEM 115
CHAPTER XIII.
THE VISIT TO THE BUILDING 121
CHAPTER XIV.
PAUL FEELS THE NECESSITY OF IMPROVING HIMSELF IN THE
ART OF DRAWING 126
CHAPTER XV.
CONSIDERATION OF THE STAIRCASES 133
CHAPTER XVI.
THE CRITIC 137
CHAPTER XVII.
PAUL INQUIRES WHAT ARCHITECTURE IS 146
CHAPTER XVIII.
THEORETICAL STUDIES 156
CHAPTER XIX.
THEORETICAL STUDIES (_continued_) 172
CHAPTER XX.
STUDIES INTERRUPTED 183
CHAPTER XXI.
BUILDING RECOMMENCED—THE TIMBER WORK 189
CHAPTER XXII.
THE CHIMNEYS 204
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE CANTINE 211
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE JOINER’S WORK 214
CHAPTER XXV.
WHAT PAUL LEARNT AT CHATEAUROUX 222
CHAPTER XXVI.
THE SLATING AND PLUMBING 230
CHAPTER XXVII.
ORDER IN FINISHING THE WORK 241
CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE HOUSE-WARMING 247
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
FIG PAGE
THE OLD CHÂTEAU _Frontispiece_.
THE OLD CELLAR _Vignette_.
1. PLAN OF THE GROUND FLOOR 22
2. PLAN OF THE FIRST FLOOR 24
3. ROOF PLAN 33
4. PLAN OF THE SECOND FLOOR 36
5. THE ENTRANCE FRONT 37
6. EXAMPLE OF A BUILDING SITE 46
7. DITTO 47
8. DITTO 49
9. SECTION OF CELLAR VAULT 53
10. THE OLD CELLAR 54
11. THE OLD CELLAR STAIRS 56
12. THE BULGED WALLS 58
13. CONSTRUCTION OF A ROOF PRINCIPAL 62
14. CAMBERED TIMBER 67
15. THE OLD ROOF 68
16. COUPLED TIMBERS 69
17. DITTO 69
18. TIMBER CLIPS 70
19. SETTING OUT THE BUILDING 73
20. USE OF THE THEODOLITE 79
21. THE CELLAR PLAN 89
22. DEPOSIT OF EXCAVATED SOIL 92
23. FOUNDATION STONES 94
24. SECTION OF SEWER 95
25. CENTERING OF CELLAR VAULT 97
26. SECTION OF CELLAR AIR-HOLES 99
27. RESPECTIVE VIEW OF DITTO 100
28. SPRING OF THE CELLAR VAULTING 101
29. THE GARDEN FRONT 103
30. THE QUOIN STONES 107
31. THE WINDOW CASING 108
32. THE CEILINGS 110
33. METHOD OF TRIMMING THE FLOORS 112
34. PERSPECTIVE OF DITTO 112
35. VIEW OF THE BUILDING OPERATIONS 120
36. HOLLOW BEDDED STONES 123
37. DRAWING MODELS 128
38. DITTO 129
39. PLANS AND SECTION OF THE PRINCIPAL STAIRS 132
40. THE STAIRCASE STRING 135
41. STEP OF WINDING STAIRS 136
42. SECTION OF THE SIDE WALLS, WITH DETAILS 163
43. AN ORIEL WINDOW 166
44. BAY WINDOW OF BILLIARD-ROOM 170
45. DETAIL OF CORNICE, STRING COURSE, ETC. 176
46. TRANSVERSE SECTION OF THE HOUSE 191
47. PLAN OF THE ROOF SUPPORTS 192
48. SECTION OF THE ROOF 194
49. THE STAIRCASE ROOF 196
50. FLAWS IN TIMBER 198
51. COUPLED BEAMS 199
52. SECTION OF THE FLOOR JOISTS 201
53. DITTO 201
54. SECTION OF THE FLOOR BEAMS 201
55. THE DORMER WINDOWS 203
56. THE DOORS 216
57. DETAILS OF DITTO 217
58. THE CASEMENTS 218
59. DETAILS OF DITTO 219
60. THE METHOD OF SLATING 233
61. DETAILS OF THE PLUMBER’S WORK 235
62. THE NEW HOUSE 258
HOW TO BUILD A HOUSE.
CHAPTER I.
_PAUL GETS AN IDEA._
Who is happier than the young student from the Lyceum when he comes
home for the summer vacation, bringing with him proofs of a well-spent
year? Everything smiles upon him. The sky is serene, the country wears
its loveliest dress, and the fruit is ripe.
Everyone congratulates him on his success, and predicts for him, after
his six weeks’ repose, an energetic recommencement of congenial labour,
crowned by a brilliant career in the future.
Yes, our student is a happy fellow; the air seems preternaturally
light, the sun shines more brightly, and the meadows wear a richer
green. Even the unwelcome rain is laden with perfume.
As soon as the morning breaks he hastens to revisit his favourite
haunts in the park—the stream, the lake, and the farm—to see the
horses, the boat, and the plantations.
He chats with the farmer’s wife, who smilingly presents him with a
nice _galette_, hot from the oven. He walks with the gamekeeper, who
tells him all the news of the neighbourhood while going his rounds.
The sound of the sheep bells is musical—nay, even the monotonous song
of the shepherd-boy, now grown a tall fellow, and aspiring to the full
dignity of shepherd.
It is indeed a happy time. But in a few days the shade of the noble
trees, the lovely scenery, the long walks, the gamekeeper’s stories,
and even the boating, become wearisome, unless some congenial
occupation presents itself to occupy the mind. It is the privilege of
old age alone to delight in memories, and always to find fresh pleasure
in the contemplation of woods and fields.
The stores of memory are soon exhausted by youth; and quiet meditation
is not to its taste.
Monsieur Paul—a lively youth of sixteen—did not, perhaps, indulge in
these reflections in the abstract; but as a matter of fact, after
a week passed at the residence of his father, who cultivated his
considerable estate in the province of Berry, he had almost exhausted
the stock of impressions which the return to the paternal domain had
excited. During the long scholastic year how many projects had he not
formed for the next vacation! Six weeks seemed too short a time for
their accomplishment. How many things had he to see again; how much to
say and do. Yet in eight days all had been seen, said, and done.
Besides, his eldest sister, who had been lately married, had set out
on a long journey with her husband; and as to Lucy, the youngest, she
seemed too much occupied with her doll and its wardrobe to take an
interest in the thinkings and doings of her respected brother.
It had rained all day; and the farm, visited by M. Paul for the fifth
time, had presented a sombre and mournful aspect. The fowls crouching
under the walls had a pensive look; and even the ducks were dabbling
in the mud in melancholy silence. The gamekeeper had indeed taken
M. Paul with him on a hare-hunting expedition, but they had returned
without success, and pretty well soaked. To his disappointment, M. Paul
had found the keeper’s stories rather long and diffuse—not the less so
as they were being repeated for the third time with few variations.
Moreover, the veterinary surgeon had announced that morning, to M.
Paul’s vexation, that his pony had caught a cold and must not quit
the stable for a week. The paper had been read after dinner, but M.
Paul was little attracted by its politics, and the miscellaneous
intelligence was deplorably uninteresting.
Monsieur de Gandelau (Paul’s father) was too much taken up with
agricultural matters, and perhaps also with the treatment of his gout,
to seek to relieve the _ennui_ of which his son was the victim; and
Madame de Gandelau, still suffering from the depression caused by her
eldest daughter’s departure, was working with a kind of desperation at
a piece of tapestry, whose destination was a mystery to all about her,
and perhaps even to the person who was so laboriously adding stitch to
stitch.
“You have had a letter from Marie?” said M. de Gandelau, putting down
the newspaper.
“Yes, my dear, this evening. They are enjoying themselves excessively;
the weather has been charming, and they have had the most delightful
excursions in the Oberland. They are on the point of passing the
Simplon for Italy. Marie will write to me from Baveno, Hôtel de——”
“Capital! and how are they?”
“Quite well.”
“And they still mean to go to Constantinople on that important
business?”
“Yes, N—— has had a letter urging him to go; they will take Italy only
_en route_. They hope to embark at Naples in a month, at latest. But
Marie tells me they cannot return within a year. She does not appear
to think much of so long an absence, but it gives me a pang which no
arguments for its necessity can alleviate.”
“Ah! well, but do you expect our children to marry for our advantage?
And was it not settled that it should be so? They say affection seldom
stands the test of living constantly together on a journey. N—— is a
good, noble fellow, hard-working, and a little ambitious, which is
no bad thing. Marie loves him; she has intelligence and good health.
They will pass the trial successfully, I have not a doubt, and will
return to us well-tried companions for life, thoroughly acquainted with
each other, and having learned how to further and to suffice for one
another’s happiness; and with that spice of independence which is so
necessary for preserving a good understanding with one’s neighbours.”
“I daresay you are right, my dear; but this long absence is not the
less painful to me, and this year will seem a long one. I shall
certainly be glad when I begin to prepare their rooms for them here,
and have only a few days to reckon till I may hope to see them again.”
“Certainly, certainly; and I too shall be delighted to see them at
home. Paul, too! But as it is certain they will be a year away, it
would be a fine opportunity for resuming my plan.”
“What, my dear? Do you mean building the house you were thinking of,
on that bit of land which is part of Marie’s dowry? I beg of you to do
nothing of the kind. We have quite enough room for them here, and for
their children, if they have any. And, after this long absence, it will
be a new trial to me to have Marie settled at a distance from us—not to
have her near me. Besides, her husband cannot stay three-quarters of a
year in the country. His engagements do not allow of it. Marie would
then be alone. What can she do in a house all to herself, with her
husband absent?”
“She will do, my love, as you did yourself, when my business called
me—as it did too often—away from home; yet we were young then. She will
have her house to see after; she will get into the way of managing
her property; she will have occupation and responsibilities; and so
she will be satisfied with herself and with the result of her thought
and work. Believe me, I have seen the warmest family affections
weakened and destroyed by the habit of married children living with
their parents. The wife likes to be mistress in her own house; and
this is a sound and just feeling; we should not run counter to it. A
woman who has been wisely educated, having a house to look after and
the responsibility and independence which responsibility in every
form brings with it, is more capable of maintaining her own dignity
of character than one who has been kept all her life in a state of
tutelage. Marie would be very comfortable here, very happy to be with
us, and her husband would be not less satisfied in knowing that she
was with us; but she would not have a home of her own. An unmarried
daughter is only in her place when with her mother; but a wife is only
in her place in her own house. A married woman in her mother’s house
takes her place only as a _guest_. And even if we suppose no mutual
irritation to arise from this life in common—and this can hardly fail
to arise—it is certain that indifference to practical interests,
_nonchalance_, and even _ennui_, and all the dangers thence ensuing,
are sure to be caused by it.
“You have brought up your daughter too well for her not to be ardently
desirous of fulfilling all her duties; you have always shown her an
example of activity too conspicuous for her not to wish to follow it.
Let us, then, afford her the means of doing so. Will you not be better
pleased to see her managing her own house, and delighted to entertain
us there, than to have her here incessantly at your elbow, with nothing
to do; a judge, silent and respectful, if you like, but still a judge,
of all your ways and doings? Do you think that her husband, when he
can snatch a few moments from business, will enjoy as much pleasure in
finding her constantly here, as he will experience at seeing her in her
own house, delighted to show him all she has done during his absence;
engaged in rendering their common abode more and more agreeable and
convenient from day to day? If you reflect, you will observe that those
who in our day have given, though in high social position, the most
occasion for scandal, have been, for the most part, women whose early
married life was passed thus, without a home of their own, leading that
nondescript life which is neither that of the daughter nor the mistress
of the house—the responsible housekeeper, to call things by their right
names.”
Some tears had moistened Madame de Gandelau’s embroidery.
“You are right again, my dear,” said she, pressing her husband’s hand;
“your plan is just and reasonable.”
Paul, though turning over the leaves of an illustrated periodical,
had not lost a word of this conversation. The idea of seeing a house
built for his eldest sister was very agreeable to him. Already, to his
youthful imagination, this house in the future seemed, as compared with
the old family mansion, a fairy palace, elegant and splendid, full of
light and gaiety.
It must be confessed that M. de Gandelau’s habitation had nothing to
charm the eyes. Enlarged by successive additions, two long wings of
gloomy aspect were clumsily patched on to the main body,—formerly a
castle, two towers of which, dismantled and crowned by low roofs,
flanked the angles. Between the two wings and this main building,
there extended a courtyard, always damp, enclosed by old iron railings,
and the remains of a moat now converted into a kitchen garden. A third
wing, the prolongation of the old castellated building, erected by M.
de Gandelau soon after his marriage, contained the private apartments
of the family—the most attractive part of the château. The drawing and
dining rooms, the billiard-room, and M. de Gandelau’s study formed part
of the old main building. As to the two parallel wings, they contained
rooms opening into irregular passages, which, not being all on a level,
were somewhat perilous to unwary feet.
Next morning, Paul, going to inquire how his pony was, met old Master
Branchu coming into the yard with a little cart full of pieces of wood,
bags of plaster, and tools.
“What are you going to do with that, Master Branchu?”
“I am going to mend the pigeon-house, Monsieur Paul.”
“How I should like to help you!”
“No, Monsieur Paul, you would dirty your clothes; you might hurt
yourself; it is not your business. But you may see us work, if you
like.”
“It must be a capital amusement to build!”
“As to amusement, it’s no amusement; yet it isn’t so disagreeable
neither, when you have to work for a good gentleman like your father;
when you have your pay regular, and a bottle of wine when it’s hot; and
when the people you work for do not grudge you what’s reasonable—that’s
comfortable. You do your work, and pick up your tools at the end of
the day with a merry heart. But when you have to do with close-fisted
people, it’s a miserable business, for you must pay for what you have
to work with. This plaster in the cart, and the bricks, and so on,
cost money of course. And if you can’t get paid yourself, you must find
money somewhere, and get into no end of trouble. But I must be off;
there’s my lad waiting for me.”
“Could you build a large house, Master Branchu?”
“I should think so, Master Paul. Why, I built the mayor’s, which is big
enough in all conscience!”
Meantime, Paul no longer finds the hours hang heavily, as they did the
day before; he has got an idea.
This house in prospect for his sister has seized on his imagination; he
figures it to himself sometimes as a palace, sometimes as a turreted
manor-house of the old style, sometimes as a Swiss cottage, covered
with ivy and clematis, with innumerable carved balconies. He has a
grown-up cousin who is an architect; he has often seen him at work at
a drawing-board; under his hand buildings rose as by enchantment. It
did not appear very difficult work. His cousin Eugène has the necessary
instruments in the room he occupies when he comes to the château. Paul
will try to put on paper one of those plans of which his imagination
has given him a glimpse. But there is a difficulty at the outset. He
must know what would suit his sister best; a baronial castle, with
towers and battlements, a Swiss cottage, or an Italian villa. If it is
to take her by surprise, the surprise must be at any rate an agreeable
one. After a good hour’s meditation, M. Paul thinks, and with some
reason, that he ought to go and consult his father.
“Oh, oh! you are in a great hurry,” said his father, after Paul’s first
words. “But we are not quite so far advanced as that. You want to draw
a plan for Marie’s house. Well, try then. But in the first place, we
must know what your sister wants—how she would like her house arranged.
After all, I am not sorry to hasten forward things a little. We will
send her a telegram.”
TELEGRAM.
“_Baveno. Italy. From X—— Mad. N——, Hôtel de ——. Paul wants to build a
house here for Marie. Send programme._”
Twenty hours afterwards the following telegram reached the château:—
“_X——. From Baveno. To M. de Gandelau. Arrived this morning—all well.
Paul has an excellent idea. Ground-floor—entrance-hall, drawing-room,
dining-room, pantry, kitchen not underground, billiard-room, study.
First-floor—two large bedrooms, two dressing-rooms; baths; small
bedroom, dressing-room; linen-room, closets, attic-bedrooms; cupboards
plenty; staircase not break-neck._ MARIE N——.”
Without doubting for a moment that his sister had taken in earnest
the despatch addressed to her, and had replied accordingly, Paul set
himself resolutely to work, and, installed in Eugène’s room, and making
the best of his skill in drawing, endeavoured to realize on paper
the programme given above. The difficulties of this undertaking were
however serious enough to make it necessary to tell M. Paul twice that
breakfast was on the table. The afternoon passed rapidly away, and on
assembling for dinner, Paul presented a fine sheet of paper fairly
covered with plans and elevations.
“A creditable piece of work,” said M. de Gandelau unrolling it; “but
your cousin is coming to-morrow, and he will be able to criticize your
plan better than I can.”
All the night Paul was in a state of excitement. He dreamed of a palace
rising under his direction. But there was always some defect in his
building. There were no windows; the staircase was only a shaky ladder,
and his sister Marie would not venture to mount it. In one place the
ceilings were so low that you could not stand upright; elsewhere they
were of terrific height. Old Branchu was laughing and shaking the walls
with his hand to show they were not firm. The chimney smoked horribly,
and his little sister was impetuously demanding a room for her doll.
Paul had looked at his plan again as soon as he got up, and it appeared
to him much less satisfactory than it had done the night before; in
fact, he blushed at the thought of showing it to his cousin, who was
coming to breakfast; he was hesitating, and thinking of destroying the
painful labour of a whole day.
“Father, I think my cousin will laugh at me if I show him my drawing.”
“My dear boy,” replied M. de Gandelau, “when we have done what we can,
_i.e._, the best we can, we must not shrink from criticism, which is
the only means of ascertaining the insufficiency of our knowledge and
supplying its defects. You would be very silly if you thought you could
become an architect in a single morning; but if, after having made
an effort to express an idea which you think good, either in drawing
or otherwise, you should hesitate to submit your essay to some one
more skilful than yourself, for fear of eliciting more criticism than
applause—it would not be modesty, but a very reprehensible vanity, for
it would deprive you of advice which cannot fail to be useful to you,
at your age especially.”
When his cousin had come it was nevertheless necessary for M.
de Gandelau to tell his son to bring his attempt, to induce our
architectural tyro to unroll again the paper he had covered the day
before with such painfully elaborate designs.
“Well, my young cousin,” said the visitor, “so you want to become an
architect. Take care! all is not _couleur de rose_ in that profession,
as it would appear on your paper.”
In a few words Eugène was informed of what was intended.
“Very good! Here is the drawing-room and the entrance-hall. I don’t
quite understand the staircase, but that is a matter of detail. And the
elevations? But it’s a palace!—columns, balustrades! Well, we can set
to work at once.”
“Could we, cousin? Suppose we tell Master Branchu; he is at work close
by.”
“A little patience—this is only a sketch. How about the definitive
plans; and the estimates; and the details of execution? We must go
methodically to work. You must know, cousin, that the more rapidly
we want a building erected, the more desirable it is that everything
should be perfectly arranged beforehand. Remember the trouble your
neighbour, Count —— has had, who has been beginning his château again
and again every spring for six years, without being able to get it
finished, because he could not indicate all that he wanted at first,
and his architect had not the courage to insist upon adopting a
well-planned design once for all; and because he has listened to all
the whims, or rather to all the officious advice which friends of the
family did not fail to offer, one respecting the size of the rooms,
another about the placing of the staircases, a third on the style and
decoration. We have only a year before us, we must therefore not begin
till we are certain of not taking false steps; besides, your sister
must approve the plan. Let us consider a little; and first let us
come to an understanding about the means of construction you decide
to adopt. As we are in a hurry we have hardly a choice; we cannot
think of building the house with worked stone from top to bottom;
that would take too long, and cost too much. We must adopt a method
of construction that is simple, and can be rapidly executed. Does
that meet your ideas? You introduce columns in your front; for what
purpose? If they form a portico, they will make the rooms dark and
gloomy; if they are attached to the walls, they are of no use here.
And this balustrade on the upper cornices—what does that mean? Do you
suppose your lady sister will walk among the gutters? That is for the
service of the cats, I suppose. And please to explain this: on the
plan I observe that from the entrance-hall you have to go through the
dining-room to reach the drawing-room. But if visitors come while you
are at table, you will have to ask them to wait at the door, or invite
them to see you and your friends eat.
“And so the kitchen opens on the billiard-room. Come, we must go a
little more deeply into the matter; shall we set to work to do so?
Between us we shall perhaps get through the business a little faster,
and you will give me ideas; for you know your elder sister’s tastes
and habits better than I do. You will thus be able to supplement
the scantiness of the programme given us. Think about it, and early
to-morrow morning we will proceed to work out our plan.”