_ORDER IN FINISHING THE WORK._
The nearer the building was to completion, the more complicated did the
office work become. When Paul saw that nearly all the particulars had
been furnished to the contractors, he thought that he would only have
to see that every part was duly constructed and put in place, according
to his cousin’s instructions; but the office work, which during the
first few months had taken only two or three hours a day, was becoming
onerous. He had to arrange the memoranda, in order to ascertain the
quantities; and that time might not be lost, he was obliged to write
or give orders to the workmen, that they might come at the very moment
they were wanted, and, in certain cases, work together. The joiner had
sent part of the doors and window-frames, and nearly all the flooring,
at the end of August. They had then to order from the blacksmith the
angle-plates, door-bands and cramps; and send to Tours for ironmongery,
door-handles, _crémones_, locks, bolts, hinges, &c.; and to secure the
due execution of these orders, they had to specify the size of each
article as required by the strength of the wood and the nature of the
articles themselves. Eugène had gone to Tours to look out samples of
the ironmongery in question. The joiner and the blacksmith had to work
simultaneously, and as they were not accustomed to be hurried, it was
often necessary to regulate the labour of each, so that time should
not be lost. The slaters had come, and were perpetually calling for
the mason’s or the carpenter’s assistance. And as their daily pay was
considerable, it was important not to allow them any pretext for idling.
Eugène had therefore taught Paul how he should contrive every evening
to get a clear idea of the labour of various kinds that was to be
executed next day, and how he should allot everyone his part before
quitting the works. This necessity of foreseeing everything had
appeared to Paul a difficult task; but his mind had become gradually
accustomed to the business, and he was acquiring the power of
calculating with some ease what had to be accomplished.
Eugène warned him that he must not expect help from the workmen in thus
arranging things methodically; and he had in fact observed that most
of them, when any piece of work was to be begun, could not set about
it, because those whose duty it was to put things in readiness for
them had not received notice to do so, and had not made the necessary
arrangements. Then the time would be wasted in running after one
another.
“The workman,” Eugène would say to Paul, “is naturally improvident, as
are all those who have acquired the habit of being commanded by others,
and have no responsibility of their own. He is not unaware of what will
be necessary for accomplishing such or such a piece of work; yet he
waits till the moment it will have to be done without troubling himself
whether the conditions required for its accomplishment will be present
or not. When, therefore, labourers in several departments are working
together, method, order, and foresight are demanded on the part of the
architect; otherwise much time is lost; the workmen hinder instead of
helping one another; each does his own work without concerning himself
as to whether it is at the fitting time or not. The same piece of work
may have to be recommenced twice or thrice.”
The workmen who were to set the grates and fix the warming apparatus
had come; and though every provision had been made during the building
for the passage of the flues, for the ventilation and the hot pipes
of the warming apparatus, these workmen were continually calling for
the mason. But as Eugène had pre-arranged everything for the purpose,
he had enjoined his clerk of the works not to allow these workmen to
make holes in every direction for the passage of their pipes or other
arrangements, as they had been accustomed to do, without respect for
the building and the bearings of the floors. But the passages were not
obvious, especially as they took very little trouble to look for them,
so that Branchu was obliged to go and show them how they lay, and open
the orifices, enlarging some and contracting others. Then the plumbers
set about laying the water-pipes, and the walls had to be pierced for
them, and cramp-holes made. The joiners, too, would be requiring the
mason to cramp in the window and door-frames. It was necessary to
mediate between these conflicting interests, for Branchu was getting
confused, and was going from one set of workmen to another without
getting anything finished. This period of his work therefore made Paul
acquainted with many details in building to which he had scarcely paid
attention a few months before.
At the end of September the joiners’ work was considerably advanced,
and the roofing quite finished, so that soon the painting alone would
remain to occupy attention. The memoranda were in due order, so that
the accounts could be readily made out.
Meantime, M. de Gandelau was thinking of sending his son back to
the Lyceum at the end of the vacation; it was necessary for him to
complete his studies; and though this year had not been lost to Paul,
he was still too young to begin to study architecture, supposing he
intended to adopt that profession. The question was therefore brought
forward one evening towards the end of September, _en famille_. Eugène
remarked, and with reason, that Paul had learned all he could in works
on this small scale; that if he were to remain longer in the country he
would see the painters prepare the grounds and put on the successive
coats of paint, but this could not be of much use to him. Besides,
as Madame Marie was not to return till the spring, it was desirable
to allow the building to dry before proceeding with the interior
decorations and upholstery.
The idea of returning to college was not very agreeable to Paul after
a year of this active life, passed as it was almost entirely in the
open air; but reflection taught him that it would not be right to do
otherwise. Moreover, Monsieur and Madame de Gandelau had business to
attend to in Paris, and would pass a part of the winter there.
It was therefore decided that Eugène should remain during the time
required for getting the work finished, so that no risks should be
incurred in the winter, and that Paul should set out with his parents
at the beginning of October.
The painting would not be begun till after the severe frosts. Eugène
undertook to have this operation superintended, and to visit the
works himself during his stay at Chateauroux, where business of some
importance required his presence towards the end of the winter.
All being thus arranged, Paul, with a somewhat heavy heart, quitted
his beloved house on the 2nd of October, and returned to the Lyceum.
Most of his comrades, like himself, had passed nearly the whole year
away from Paris, and their studies had been suspended; but very few had
employed their time usefully. So when Paul related what he had done
during these twelve months, many laughed at him, and some did not
believe him; but from that time forward he was called by no other name
than _Monsieur l’Architecte_.
During this year he had made some advance in learning to reason, in
reflecting before he spoke, and in listening patiently to those who
knew more than himself, so he found his old companions rather shallow
and trifling. On the occasion of a holiday he made a remark to this
effect to his father, with a certain mixture of vanity and regret.
M. de Gandelau guessed his mood of mind, and did not let slip this
occasion of correcting the reprehensible side of his thoughts.
“It is possible,” said he, “that your companions have not had the good
fortune you have enjoyed of finding some one to take the trouble to
set them to active work, and teach them something of the practical
side of life. But it would be foolish in you, and decidedly hurtful to
your mind and character, to despise those who are less informed than
yourself in regard to a single branch of knowledge. Who knows whether
in other matters they have not acquired a superiority you do not
appreciate? It should not be our object in the world (and the Lyceum
is a little world not unlike the great one), to shut ourselves up in
our own knowledge and thus flatter our vanity, but to discover that of
others and endeavour to profit by it. It should not be our object to
shine by our knowledge, or fancied knowledge, and so occasion envy on
the part of the foolish, and a smile on that of people of sense, but
to elicit the knowledge possessed by others. This course of conduct
secures us a double advantage: we avoid making enemies, and we increase
our store of knowledge.
“It is not at all surprising that your companions know less than you
about the building of a house; but you must allow that your knowledge
of the matter is but small; and perhaps on other subjects they
have more correct and complete ideas than you have. It would have
been ridiculous to conceal from your companions the nature of your
occupations during your stay in the country; but why should you make
much of it? If any of them who has a particular desire for information
should put questions to you about it, and if you see that he is really
interested in your answers, satisfy his desire; but in the presence
of people who care nothing about the matter, be reserved, or else you
will get laughed at. There is a vulgar phrase which exactly expresses
this fact. We say: people are fond of “trotting out” those who are vain
of their knowledge, that is, they get them to talk, not to satisfy a
legitimate curiosity, but to make fun of them. Bear this in mind, for
it is true in the Lyceum as well as everywhere else.
“If your mind is really more developed than that of your comrades,
there is an easy way of making the fact apparent to all, that is, by
acquiring more rapidly than they do the instruction equally offered to
all. Get to the top of all your classes, and nobody will laugh at you;
but all will observe that this year, which has been a sterile one to so
many others, has been really a fruitful one to you.”
Paul took the hint, and when he returned to the Lyceum he left off
talking about architecture, and gave his mind to the work before him.
Consequently, he proved that his mind had been developed, and on New
Year’s Day brought home most satisfactory testimonials of progress.
The nickname his schoolfellows had bestowed on him, however, still
stuck to him.
“Ah, well!” he would say to himself, when they called him _M.
l’Architecte_; “I shall make good their words, for I am resolved to
become an architect in earnest.”