_WHAT PAUL LEARNT AT CHATEAUROUX._
Paul now knew enough to feel that the commission with which he was
charged was one of considerable importance. The sole responsibility
of it made him a little anxious. It would have been easy enough to
write to the joiner to come to the _château_; but Eugène had asked M.
de Gandelau to send Paul to see him, in order to put his clerk of the
works to the test, and to know how he would manage the business. Eugène
had given him ample instructions, and taken care to have them repeated
several times; and Paul had noted down the important points. He was
furnished with plans to show the number of openings, the hanging of
the doors, the areas of the floors, the extent of the wainscoting, the
dado-moulding, the skirting, &c.
On arriving at Chateauroux about ten o’clock in the morning, Paul found
the engineer, M. Victorien, his cousin’s friend, waiting for him at the
station as had been arranged. M. Victorien was still young, though his
close-cut hair was growing grey. A sun-burnt complexion, a piercing
eye, and aquiline nose, gave to his physiognomy a certain martial air
which attracted our young architect at a glance. A letter from Eugène
had informed him of the circumstances that had occasioned Paul’s giving
his attention to building during the last six months. M. Victorien had
some acquaintance with M. de Gandelau, and felt a particular esteem
for his character. Such an introduction was more than enough to induce
him to receive the traveller as a young brother. Madame Victorien, a
short, buxom brunette, the very antithesis of her husband, who was tall
and thin,—could find nothing good enough for her guest. At breakfast,
Paul had to reply to all the questions that were addressed to him:—How
had the recent troubles been borne by the family at the _château_?
What was the new house like? How far had it advanced? How many workmen
did they employ? How was the work done? Paul gave the best answers he
could think of, and even ventured to draw some sketches to explain
to his hosts the situation of the new house and its present stage of
advancement.
“Well,” said M. Victorien, “I see that you have profited by the
lessons you have had from your cousin, who is more ready at making an
explanatory sketch than any man I know.”
This compliment encouraged Paul, who related the steps of his
architectural education up to this time.
“We shall have the whole of to-morrow to visit your joiner, so if you
like you shall accompany me to see some locks which I am making about
six miles off. That will perhaps interest you.”
Paul eagerly accepted the invitation, although Madame Victorien
protested against it, asserting that her young guest must be fatigued,
and ought to be allowed to rest; that he had risen very early that
morning, and so on.
“What,” said M. Victorien, “at his age and in excellent health,
fatigued by sitting two hours in a railway carriage! Get us a good
dinner by the time we return—about seven o’clock—and you shall see if
our friend doesn’t do justice to it. Besides, has he not told us that
he is up at five o’clock every morning and is running about all day?
Come, let us set out.”
They drove off in a small _char-à-banc_, and soon left the town behind
them.
When they were mounting the first hill M. Victorien said: “Your cousin
has not then been much fatigued by his short campaign. I saw him only
for a moment when he passed through with his corps. He is an energetic
man, but he does not always take enough care of himself. How clearly he
explains a thing, does he not? It is a pleasure to take lessons of him.
We were fellow-students formerly, and he hesitated whether he should
become an architect or a civil engineer. He had qualifications for
both.”
“What is the difference, then, between an architect and an engineer?”
Paul ventured to ask.
“Upon my word, that is a question not easy to answer—I will give you an
apologue:—
“There were once two little twins who resembled each other so much
that even their mother could not distinguish them. Not only were
their features, height, and gait the same, but they had also the same
tastes and abilities. They had to work with their hands, for their
parents were poor. Both became masons. They acquired skill in their
calling, and they worked equally well. Their father, a narrow-minded
man, thought that these four hands which wrought at the same work with
equal perfection, would produce more and do still better by allotting
separate labours to each pair. To one of the pairs, therefore, he said:
‘You shall only do underground work;’ and to the other, ‘You shall
only work aboveground.’ The brothers thought this scarcely reasonable,
as they had been accustomed to help each other in both sorts of work;
however, as they were obedient children they complied. But whereas
hitherto these workmen had agreed and had co-operated to the advantage
of the work, from that time forward they did not cease to dispute with
each other. The one who worked above the cellars maintained that his
foundations were not suitably prepared, and the one who laid the latter
asserted that the conditions of their structure were not respected. The
result was that they separated, and as each had now become habituated
to his particular work, he remained unfit for anything else.”
“I think I see the gist of your apologue, but——”
“But it does not explain to you why a difference has been made between
engineers and architects. In fact, a skilful engineer may be a good
architect, as an accomplished architect ought to be a good engineer.
Engineers make bridges, canals, docks, and embankments; but this
does not prevent them from raising lighthouses, erecting factories,
warehouses, and many other buildings. Architects ought to know how to
do all these things; they actually did them formerly, because then the
twin brothers were not separated, or rather, they were one and the same
person. But since this individuality has been separated into two, each
half follows its own direction. If the engineers build a bridge, the
architects say it is ugly—and are not always wrong in saying so. If the
architects build a palace, the engineers think, not without reason,
that in its construction the materials have been employed unskilfully,
and without due economy or an exact acquaintance with their properties
in point of durability and strength.”
“But why do engineers build bridges which architects do not consider
beautiful?”
“Because the question of art has been separated from that of science
and calculation by that narrow-minded father who thought one brain
could not entertain both. The architects have been told: ‘You are to be
artists; you are to look at nothing but form—trouble yourselves about
nothing but form;’ while to the engineers it has been said: ‘You are to
occupy yourselves only with science and its applications; form does not
concern you; leave that to artists who dream with their eyes open, and
are incapable of reasoning!’
“Ah! that seems strange to your young mind, I can see. It is simply
absurd, because the art of architecture is only a result of the
art of constructing—that is, of employing materials according to
their qualities or properties; and because architectural forms are
notoriously derived from this judicious employment of them. But, my
young friend, as you grow older, you will see in our poor country not a
few even more important interests sticking in the rut of routine.—St!
Bob, trot on! it’s all level now!”
They soon arrived at the locks. Two coffer-dams, one below, one above,
barred the course of the water; a large cast-iron siphon caused the
current to pass over the workmen engaged in laying the foundations of
the walls (the lateral walls) forming the chamber of the lock. Paul
inquired about the working of the siphon, which he soon understood,
as he had made one with quills and wax, and had emptied glasses of
water with it. He had never imagined that this little hydraulic
apparatus could be applied on so grand a scale. He saw how they made
the concrete which was run under the lateral walls of the chamber, that
is, the space comprised between the two gates of the lock. A horse
was attached to a great wooden lever, which caused an iron shaft to
revolve in a vertical cylinder, and which, furnished with beaters,
mixed the slaked lime with the sand that was introduced at the top of
this cylinder. An opening at the bottom let the mortar, well mixed,
run into wheelbarrows which the workmen were taking to a wooden floor,
where they mixed it with double its quantity of pebbles, by means of
rakes. Then other workmen transported the concrete, well mingled, to a
shoot which conducted it to the bottom of the excavation, where others
again spread it in layers, and rammed it down with wooden damsels.
Paul inquired, also, respecting the arrangement of the gates, the
_kerb_, the _stay_, or sill, over which the folded gates of the lock
were to abut, that is, presenting an obtuse angle towards the upper
part of the stream, to resist the action of the current. He saw the
carpenters’ workshop, where they put the lock-gates on templets. While
superintending his works and giving his orders, M. Victorien explained
to Paul how each department of labour contributed to the whole; and
the latter took notes and made sketches in his memorandum-book with a
view to keep in mind what he heard and saw. This attention on Paul’s
part appeared to please M. Victorien. So when they were again seated
in the _char-à-banc_ to return to the town, the engineer did not fail
to complete his explanations. He described to him the lock-gates of
seaports, and how some were made in the present day thirty yards wide
and more, part iron, part wood, or entirely iron; and promised to show
him when they reached home the drawings of some of these locks. The
conversation then turned on bridges, and by what means their piers
could be built in the middle of a stream.
M. Victorien explained to him how, by the use of means supplied by
modern engineering, piers were built in the middle of wide, deep,
and rapid streams, where formerly the operation was not regarded as
practicable; how they sunk double-plated iron cylinders vertically, so
that their lower extremity touched the bottom; how, with the help of
powerful machinery, they compressed the air in these enormous hollow
columns, and how they then filled these cylinders with masonry, so
that they thus obtained piers perfectly solid, stable, and capable of
sustaining heavy pressures; and while the metal-work must decay with
time the columns of masonry remained intact, having had time to gain a
solid consistence.
M. Victorien’s explanations thus opened to Paul a new horizon of study,
and he began to ask himself whether he should ever have time to learn
all these things; for M. Victorien did not fail to repeat to him
continually that an architect ought not to be ignorant of these methods
of construction, because it was possible that he would have to make
use of them. His attention, therefore, seemed distracted. M. Victorien
perceived it, and said to him, “Let us talk of something else, for you
seem to me rather tired.”
“No,” replied Paul; “but I had a good deal of difficulty in getting
into my head all that my cousin told me about building a house only;
and I thought that when I had thoroughly understood the different
things he explained to me, I should have got the substance of all I had
to learn: and now I see that there are many other things relating to
construction which I ought to know, and—you know——”
“And that disquiets and frightens you. Take time; do not try to
understand all at once; listen attentively, that is all. By degrees
it will be disentangled in your mind, and be properly classified. Do
not be anxious about it—young brains consist of a number of empty
drawers. Youth need only be asked to open them; each new acquisition
comes of itself to take its place in that which suits it. Afterwards,
all we have to do is to open the drawer containing such or such a
thing, stored up almost without our being conscious of it: we find it
untouched, fit to be used for its proper purpose. Only we must always
keep all our drawers open in the gathering season, a season which is
but short. If we leave the drawers shut during our early youth—that is,
from twelve to twenty-five—it is hard work to fill them afterwards, for
the locks are rusted, or they have been filled, we do not know how,
with useless rubbish.”
Chatting thus, the travellers returned home, where Madame Victorien had
prepared them a good supper, enlivened by the presence of two little
fellows returned from school, and who were soon very good friends with
Paul.
The following day was devoted to seeing the contractor for the
woodwork, and explaining to him the particulars Paul had brought
with him, and preparing the estimates in which M. Victorien gave
some assistance. Paul, however, well trained by his cousin, executed
his commission creditably, and felt much flattered when, at the
close of the interview, the contractor addressed him as ‘_Monsieur
l’Inspecteur_,’ giving him all sorts of technical explanations, which
Paul did not always comprehend, though he took good care not to show
his ignorance, waiting for the opportunity of asking his cousin to
enlighten him where necessary.
On the morning of the third day they went to see some interesting
buildings in the neighbourhood, and in the evening, at nine o’clock,
Paul returned to the _château_, his travelling-bag full of information
which M. Victorien had given him respecting bridges, locks, and the
building materials of the district, and the way in which they were
employed.