We are closing out the last 400 (or so) copies of our two translations of A-J Roubo’s “l’Art du menuisier” in order to make room for new editions of these books.
The savings are significant. Act quickly to avoid disappointment.
We are closing out both of these books to make way for deluxe editions with improved paper and images (indeed, things can get better over time in some situations).
If you have ever wanted to own translations of these earth-moving historical texts, but you couldn’t justify the cost, this is your chance.
Plate 278. The Way to Split Veneer Wood, and Its Explanation
The following is excerpted from “To Make as Perfectly as Possible: Roubo on Marquetry,” translated by By Donald C. Williams, Michele Pietryka-Pagán & Philippe Lafargue. It is the first English-language translation of the most important woodworking book of the 18th century.
While the title of this work implies that it is about marquetry alone, that is not the case. “To Make as Perfectly as Possible” covers a wide range of topics of interest to woodworkers who are interested in hand-tool woodworking or history.
In addition to veneer and marquetry, this volume contains sections on grinding, sharpening, staining, finishing, wood selection, a German workbench, clock-case construction, engraving and casting brasses.
But most of all, “To Make as Perfectly as Possible” provides a window into the woodworking world of the 18th century, a world that is both strangely familiar and foreign.
Roubo laments the decline of the craft in the 18th century. He decries the secrecy many masters employed to protect craft knowledge. He bemoans the cheapening of both goods and the taste of customers.
And he speaks to the reader as a woodworker who is talking to a fellow woodworker. Unlike many chroniclers of his time, Roubo was a journeyman joiner (later a master) who interviewed his fellow tradesmen to produce this stunning work. He engraved many of the plates himself. And he produced this work after many years of study.
As the wood that one uses for cabinetmaking is for the most part very expensive, because it costs roughly 10 sols up to 30 sols, and sometimes even one crown per pound, according to the different types of wood, we have great interest in using these woods sparingly; that is why instead of making furniture or other pieces of cabinetry in solid wood, we have tried to execute splitting [sawing] wood into laminates, or very thin sheets, that one applies on the furniture cases made of ordinary wood.
It is not the carpenter-cabinetmakers who split [saw] their wood, but the workers [sawyers] who do only this work, and who saw not only for the cabinetmakers, but also for the musical instrument makers, and generally all those who use thin wood. These workers or sawyers are paid by the pound, that is to say, according to the weight of the piece of wood that they use, including the waste-wood and sawdust, rendering the wood close to two-thirds more expensive, which makes a piece made in this manner very important.
Veneer wood is split [sawn] at about a thickness of 1 line at most [1/12″ to 1/14″]; when one wants to spare it, one makes from 10 to 11 leaves from a thumb-thickness [inch], which is worthless because even before the veneer is polished, it has left only a half-blade of thickness [1/24″ to 1/32″], which is then reduced almost to nothing when the piece is finished; it is absolutely necessary to avoid making veneers this thin, although that is used a lot at the present. When one wants to cut up a piece of wood to make a veneer, one begins by choosing the side of the log that allows for the easiest sawing, the goal being to orient the wood for the best advantage, and to yield the largest sheets of the veneer; then one puts the piece of wood in the vise, and with a standing saw [a saw to be used while standing, and a vise designed to facilitate that action], one saws it to a thickness that one judges appropriate (which I am going to explain, after having provided the description of the bench or vise with a standing saw, and of the saw appropriate for this task).
The saw appropriate for cutting wood from India, which we name also the saw with vise, Figs. 1 and 2 [to increase or decrease the tension on the blade] is a little bit similar to the saw for cutting used by the woodworking builders [often known in the modern era as a frame saw]. It is composed of two verticals and of two crosswise or crossbeam elements, of which the ends project out and are round ed, so that the two sawyers can hold the saw easily. The middle of these crosspieces is convex on the outside, in order to give them more strength, and that they not bend while one increases the tension on the saw blade.
The inside [interior] of the vise saw is from 15 to 18 thumbs [inches] wide [or approximately 9 inches on either side of the blade], is about 3 feet long, as measured from within the crosspieces or support piece. The blade of the saw has a 4–thumbs [inches] depth, at least, and is held at each end by a frame of iron, through which passes the crosspieces of the saw, or, better said, of its chassis. These frames of iron, represented by Figs. 4, 5, 8 and 9, are made of iron plate, and the largest possible, so that the saw cannot turn easily, and one tightens a nut to that above, for putting there a screw a b, Figs. 4 and 5, which serves to control the tension of the saw blade.
On the outside of the cross-members one insets a steel contact plate attached with some screws, which prevents the pressure of the screw of the frame to not ruin anything nor to make any holes. See Fig. 3.
The blade of the saw, as I just said, is 4 thumbs [inches] size at least, tapering barely toward the back [away from the teeth]. We do not put a set on these sorts of saws, because that would eat up the wood excessively with an unnecessarily wide kerf, and one takes great care that the teeth be perfectly straight on the horizontal, and that their teeth be also perfectly equal in height, so that they grab all equally, and that they do not chatter, resulting in uneven thickness of the wood, which is also to be feared, which ruins so many sheets of veneer. The teeth of these saws should be spaced equally, about 5 to 6 lines from one tooth to the next one at least, and should be positioned in such a way that the bottom [what we now call the tip] of each tooth is level with one another, because being so arranged, they are less subject to become dull, which would happen unfailingly if they were made ordinarily, as is seen that almost all wood from India is hard, and consequently causes more resistance to the teeth of the saw. See Figs. 6 and 7, which represent one part of the saw blade viewed from the front and side, half-size.
The standing saw vise, represented in Fig. 11, is one type of small bench, about 3 to 3.5 feet long, by 2 feet high, at the base of which one puts the vise, which serves to hold in place the piece that one wishes to saw.
In order for this vise to be solid [a stout twin-screw face vise], it is good that the brace [the jaw] A, Fig. 11, have about 6 thumbs [inches] thickness, as well as the top of the bench, in which the screws enter, which to be good, should have at least 2.5 to 3 thumbs [inches] in thickness, and the threads be long enough so that when there is a piece of wood8 to 10 thumbs [inches] thickness placed in the vise, there remains at least enough length of the screw in the bench, as observed in this figure. As this bench is very short, and is subject to vibration by the movement of the saw, one loads stones on the bottom shelf to make it more solid; but I believe it would be better to make the legs of the bench long enough to be anchored to the floor of the shop, then one makes a hole in front of the bench to set in the piece of wood to be sawn in order to not extend upwards more than 3 feet above the top of the vise, locating it thus both for the comfort of the sawyers and for maximizing the yield of the piece being sawn. Not all the standing saw vises are part of an overall bench, such as the one represented here, in Figs. 10 and 11; this is why ordinary vises attached to a little bench are less solid than making them as I propose here.
When one wishes to saw with the vise, one begins by placing the piece to saw in the vise, of which the screws tighten with an iron lever, that one removes after being worked, so that it is not in the way; then, with an ordinary saw, one begins to mark all the lines to be sawn on the end of the workpiece, just up to 2 to 3 lines deep [3/16″], then one uses the frame saw, Fig. 1, which is guided horizontally by two men, observing the advantageous slight incline on the side of the tooth rake, and of the lifting up of the blade while pulling back, so as to relieve it, and that it not bind in the wood, or at least that the sawdust does not obstruct it. See Figs. 10 and 11, which represents a vise press upright, viewed in perspective, with the sawyers located as they should be.
When one saws with a vise, one begins with the outside edge of the log, so that the first sheets sawn bend away from the log and facilitate the passage of the saw, which could not be the case if one sawed in the middle; as one does when one saws large pieces of wood being used by carpenters or by ordinary woodworkers, given that the frame saw blade is very thin, and that it has no set. Sawyers at a vise do not lay out or mark a line on the side of the piece that they wish to saw; but after having begun on the end with an ordinary saw, they continue the rest by eye, which they do very well, for the most part; they are very sure to saw their veneers not only very straight, but still perfectly of equal thickness, as well. See Fig. 11, which represents the cut of the bench or upright vise saw, and a piece of wood sawn into sheets just up to the middle.
To finish what this looks like at the cutting of wood appropriate to the cabinetmaker I have represented in Fig. 12, a saw named the carving saw, which serves to cut up not only hard wood, whether wood with the grain or cross-grain, or standing wood, but also coral, ivory and mother-of-pearl. The framework of these sorts of saws is all iron, of which the upper branch is widened on the outside, so that one can adapt the blade and set it as one judges appropriate, which is done in the following manner.
After having pierced a hole in the blade of the saw, b, corresponding with that of the lower arm of the frame of the saw, you put this one [arm], and the one that is opposite, in a vise or other thing capable of bending them [squeezing them together], in a manner that they tend to meet one against the other, and tightens them as much as is judged appropriate, to give the saw all the tension necessary; then the blade of the saw, being stopped at point b, one makes it enter in the upper arm of the frame, and one traces the place for the hole at point a, which one pierces to place there a peg; this being done, one again bends the arms of the frame, just until it gives liberty to pass the peg below, and which serves to hold the peg in place, as one can see in this figure.
The blades for these sorts of saws are very thin, and one does not give them a set, so they have a very narrow kerf and lose less material, and they pass easily; one thins them on the back [away from the teeth], which one does with a file that one passes down the length just until they are thinned enough as one judges appropriate; then one rubs them with sand to remove the unevenness that the filing could have made; this operation is called “demaigrir” [thinning], a worker’s term.
The different Compositions of Dyes appropriate for dyeing Woods, and how to use them
The tinting [dyeing or staining] of woods is of great importance for cabinetmakers, because it is with its help that one can give to woods the different colors, which are necessary for representing all sorts of objects, such as fruits, flowers, animals, etc. However, cabinetmakers always make a great secret of the composition of their dyes in order to preserve exclusivity, and not to increase the number of workers in their trade. From that circumstance comes the fact that most of the compositions that the ancient cabinetmakers used have not been passed on to us, or are presently badly imitated. Those being used presently are defective, or even if they are good, cannot be perfected given that those who possess them hide the process. They keep this information secret not only from their colleagues but even from those for whom the theory could be useful in perfecting the composition of their dyes. This would be much more advantageous than the enjoyment of maintaining a secret, which is not a big thing, but which, even when it is perfectly well known to us, leaves us still to regret the loss of the method of Jean de Veronne, who tinted woods with boiling dyes and oils that penetrated them. This would be a very helpful thing to know, the research of which would be a worthy undertaking for some of our scholars. It is highly wished that one could find the means to use the chemicals having a good tint in the dyeing of woods, because their colors would be more durable. Sadly, the colored parts of most of these chemicals are too thick to penetrate the interior of woods, which is absolutely necessary, so that when working with tinted woods they are all found to be of uniform color throughout their entire thickness and the surface.
That is why in the description of the woods, without the means to which I would like to know the procedure to accomplish the perfect tint, I will explain only ordinary procedures to cabinetmakers, to which I will add some of my own experiences, which is still a long ways from attaining the perfection of which this part can be capable.
The five primitive colors are, as I said above, blue, yellow, red, taupe [brown] and black. Each of these colors is given by different chemicals, which, when mixed together, give the second or composite colors.
The blue appropriate for tinting woods is made with indigo, diluted in oil of vitriol [also known as sulfuric acid], and then put in a sufficient quantity of water.
Yellow is made with barberry, yellow earth and saffron mixed together, or even simply from gaude [this plant, Reseda luteola, is known as weld].
Red is made from the boiling of wool, or even a concoction of Brasilwood mixed with alum.
Taupe is made with walnut husk.
Black is made with the wood of the Indies, the gall nuts and iron sulfate.
Before entering into the detail of the composition of different stains, I am going to give a general idea of the chemicals of which they are composed, so that the cabinetmakers may be less subject to being fooled when they buy them.
Indigo is a type of ash of a deep blue, provided by the leaves of a plant that grows in the Americas and Indostan, and which they sell in little pieces. For it to be good, it must be medium-hard, so that it floats on water, so it is inflammable and of a beautiful blue or deep violet color. Its interior should be strewn with little silver-colored spangles, and appear reddish when rubbed with a fingernail. Indigo is preferred over all other chemicals for staining woods because it is a powder of extremely fine and granular pieces, which are easily introduced into the pores of the woods.
Oil of vitriol or sulfuric acid is the final spirit that one gets from vitriol. This acidic liquor should be very concentrated and be absolutely free of all aqueous parts to be of a beautiful blue color, as I will speak more of later.
Barberry is a little bush of which the fruits, and the bark of the roots are stained in yellow. That from Candie [island off the coast of Crete] has a very yellow wood, and passes for the best.
Woad [this cannot be woad that produces a blue dye] is a rather common plant in France. One boils it in water to extract a yellow liquid, which mixed with a bit of alum, tints very well. Dyers prefer that one, which is the most spare [meaning thinnest] and of a rosy color.
One also dyes in yellow with the yellow wood of which I spoke above page 777. Yellow earth is nothing other than yellow ochre, used by painters.
Saffron is a plant that grows in France, especially in Gatinois [western part of France]. It is the pistil of the saffron flower, which gives these little reddish filaments, or better said, orange, which they sell under the name of saffron, which gives a dye of a golden yellow. For saffron to be good, it should be fresh, of a pungent odor, of a brilliant color and when touched it should seem oily and should stick to the hands.
Alum is a fossil salt and mineral, which is used much in dyeing, whether to set up the materials to be stained or whether for fixing the colors [as a mordant], which it retains all the particles by its astrin-gent quality. The best is that of Rome, which is white in color, and is transparent, a bit like crystal.
Liquor decanted from boiled wool is sold by the wool merchants. In boiling this wool, one gets a decoction of the color rose, which is more or less deep, according to how much water is used to scour the wool, proportional with its quantity.
I spoke up above of Brasilwood, page 771. I will content myself to say here that the decoction of this wood gives off a clear red color, tending toward the orange, and that one deepens its color by adding a bit of alum. Brasilwood from Fernambouc is the best, and they sell it all chopped up at the spice merchants, who sell it by the pound.
The husk of walnuts is nothing more than the first wrapping of these nuts, which one takes off before they are perfectly mature, and which one boils in water to extract a brownish or taupey tint.
Indian Wood, of which I spoke on page 777, gives off a concoction of a deep red, which one stains in black, and when one mixes with alum it stains in violet.
Nut gall is a type of excretion that is found on the tender shoots of a type of oak named “Rouvre.” The most highly esteemed nut gall comes from the Levant [the name given to the countries on the eastern coast of the Mediterranean]. The best ones are those that are the heaviest, and where the surface is thorny. There are both green and black ones, both of which work equally to stain in black.
Ferrous sulfate is a type of vitriol that is found in copper mines. It is the most powerful of the acids, it corrodes iron and copper, and it etches the soft parts with an infinite number of small holes, into which the dye is introduced. Ferrous sulfate is also named Roman vitriol or English vitriol, according to whether it comes from one or the other countries. We make some in France that is, they say, as good as the others. The color of ferrous sulfate [known also as green vitriol] is of a light green: it should be neat and shiny.
Verdigris also works well as a wood dye. It is the green rust scraped from copper sheets. For it to be good, it should be dry, pure, of a deep green and filled with white spots.
There you have a bit of a description of the ingredients commonly used for staining/dyeing woods. All that remains is to give the manner of making use of them.
The Way of Staining Wood Blue
The preparation of blue with indigo and oil of vitriol [sulfuric acid] is done in two ways, namely, hot and cold. Blue for wood is prepared cold in the following manner:
you take 4 ounces of oil of vitriol of the best quality, that is to say, that it is deprived of all aqueous parts, which you pour into a pint-size bottle, with 1 ounce of indigo reduced to a very fine powder. Then you fill the bottle with water, at least nearly so, and you bottle it very carefully, and you seal the cork with wax. you let it infuse for five to six weeks, at the end of which you can use this stain that will be more or less strong, by putting in as much water as you judge appropriate, always ob-serving to add a bit of oil of vitriol, so the dye will be fixed better. When the dye is to the degree of strength that you need, you put it in a stoneware or glazed earthenware vessel, and you soak the wood in it until it is totally penetrated, which sometimes requires 15 days and even one month of time, according to the hardness and thickness of the wood. The wood can hardly have a thickness of more than one line [1/12″].
Cabinetmakers ordinarily use a stoneware butter pot for putting the wood into the dye, which is very convenient because the shape of this vase enables one to put in rather large pieces, without the need of having a very great quantity of dye.
It is very easy to know when the interior of the wood is penetrated, given that you only have to cut a small piece of the wood about 2 to 3 lines from its end. When the pieces that you want to dye cannot be cut like this, you put with them another piece of the same quality, with which you test the degree of penetration of the other pieces.
The Way of Dyeing in Yellow
Cabinetmakers tint in yellow with barberry, with yellow earth and with saffron, which they boil together. This being done, they soak the wood pieces until they are totally stained. The proportion of these chemicals is 2 liters [in this case the French word refers to “litron,” which is about 79 percent of a modern liter, so 2 modern liters is a much larger quantity] of barberry, 6 “sols” [a French penny] of yellow earth, and 4 “sols” of saffron.
A concoction of woad gives a very beautiful yellow of a good tint, and you soak the wood as normal. When this concoction is added to a bit of verdigris, you have a sulfurous yellow color. Saffron infused in grain alcohol gives a very beautiful golden yellow.
The Way to Dye in Red
Red is normally made with brasilwood, which one boils with 6 sols of alum for each pound of wood. This red is a false tint because it is more orange than red. you can substitute the boiling-liqueur from wool, which gives a very beautiful red, leaning toward rose, which one makes deeper by passing the pieces that you have stained into the liqueur of the mixture of Brasilwood mixed with alum. This makes a very beautiful red, more or less deep, depending on whether you leave the pieces of wood more or less a long time in the dye bath of Brasilwood.
Dyeing with decanting liqueur is done very easily. One only needs to boil some wool dyed to this effect, just until it makes a beautiful red concoction. Avoid boiling too much, because the wool will take back the color that it discharged at first.
The proportion of the liquor of wool to be decanted is 1 pound to 4 pints of water for the first decanting, to which one can add a second, even a third, until the wool renders no more color. The concoction of Brasilwood without alum gives a yellowish red, which is sometimes attractive, and is named “Capucine.”
The concoction of Indian Wood is very red, but it makes a blackish stain, which makes a very beautiful violet when mixed with alum from Rome, as I will speak of it later.
How to Dye Taupe [Brown], Black and Grey
Taupe dye is made with a concoction of walnut husk, which can be more or less strong, as you judge appropriate, always adding to it a bit of alum.
An attractive black is made by staining the wood first in a concoction of wood of India (or Campeachy, which is the same thing). When this first application is dry, you dip the wood in a concoction of gall nut in which you have put some ferrous sulfate, or vitriol of Rome. Sometimes one only makes a single dye of these various ingredients, of which the proportion should be 1 part nut gall, 1 part vitriol and 6 parts of Campeachy, all boiled together, into which you dip the wood until it is penetrated.
A grey tint is made with a concoction of nut gall, into which you dissolve some green vitriol [ferrous sulfate] in smaller quantity than for the black stain. The more ferrous sulfate-cuprous there is, the deeper grey it will be. The normal proportion is one part of ferrous sulfate for two parts of nut gall.
The Way to Tint Composite Colors
The ordinary green stain of cabinetmakers is made with the same ingredients as for the blue, to which is added the barberry in more or less quantity, according to whether the green should be more or less deep.
One can make a very beautiful apple green in staining first the wood in ordinary blue, and then dipping it in a concoction of woad, and that with more or less time according to whether one wants to have a green more or less strong.
Violet is made with a concoction of Campeachy, to which one has mixed some alum from Rome. One can have violet more or less deep by staining first the woods in rose and then in the blue, which will give a clear violet.
If, on the contrary, one wishes to have a brown-red leaning toward violet, one stains the wood first in the concoction of Brasilwood, then in that of the Campeachy.
One can obtain composite dye of all nuances imaginable by tinting the wood in a primary color then in another one more or less dark, so that the stain that results from these two colors reflects more or less of each other. This is very possible to do because one is the master to strengthen or weaken the primary colors as one judges appropriate, whether by reason of what the form of the object re-quires, or even by reason of the different quality of wood, which takes the dye more or less well, or strengthens or weakens the color. This has to be highly considered, and it requires much attention and experience on the part of cabinetmakers.
In general, all the dyes of which I just spoke are applied in cold baths. It is not that many of them cannot be used hot, but it is that because it takes a considerable amount of time for the same dye to penetrate into the interior of wood, it is not possible to use them hot. What’s more, cold dyed wood has much more vibrancy than when used with a hot bath.
There it is, a bit of the details of staining [dyeing] wood, at least those that most cabinetmakers use, or which I myself have employed in the attempts that I have made. These have succeeded rather well, but they have not been followed by a long enough time to be assured of the success of my at-tempts. It would be highly wished that those who are currently making use of these dyes, or who will be using them later, apply themselves to perfect them which, I believe, is not absolutely impossible. Having done this, they would be rather good citizens to not make a mystery of their discoveries, but only succeed by rendering them public.
Cabinetmakers dye not only their woods for veneer to use them in the place of the natural color of the woods. They also use these same dyes to accentuate various parts of their works while they are being worked. As such, these dyes, like the red of Brasilwood, the violet of the Campeachy, the black, etc., are used hot, which is very easy to do because it is sufficient for only the exterior of the woods being dyed. Other than these dyes, woodworkers in furniture sometimes use a type of yellow color for bedsteads, which is composed of yellow ochre and common varnish, or of this same ochre and the very clear English glue, sometimes they even put it in only water, which is of little use.
Before finishing the dyeing of wood, I believe I ought to give a least-costly method of dyeing white wood red, which is done in the following manner:
you take some horse dung, which you put in a bucket of which the bottom is pierced with many holes, and you place it above another bucket, into which falls the water from the dung, as it gradually rots. When it does not rot fast enough, you water it from time to time with some horse urine, which helps a lot and at the same time gives a red water, which not only stains the surface of the wood, but penetrates the interior 3 to 4 lines deep. In staining the wood with this dye, one must take care that all the pieces be of the same species, and about equal in density if one wishes that they be of equal color throughout. This observation is general for all water-based stains, which have no palpable thickness nor even appearance [they leave no residue or any evident change in appearance], which requires the cabinetmaker to make a choice of wood of equal color and a density as I mentioned before. This demands a lot of experience and attention on the part of the cabinetmakers. And with the exception of the way to compose and use dyes, it is hardly possible to give theoretical rules on this part, for which success is not often due to anything but experience, which is not acquired except with a lot of time, attention and work.
One influential tool that was unknown to me at the start of this project is a polissoir (polisher), which I call a corn straw burnisher. Roubo offers fewer than 100 words describing the tool and its use, yet that tool has fundamentally changed parts of the way I work. As the last tool to touch the surface prior to the application of finish, or in some instances the tool that actually applies the finish, vigorously scouring the surface with it imparts radiance to the substrate that cannot be adequately described. It must be experienced.
Fabricating your own burnisher is fairly easy, and the raw materials are no farther away than any straw broom.
The first step is to assemble a bundle’s worth of broom straw. My first efforts came from hardware store whisk brooms. Remove any straws that are too coarse.
Squeeze the assembled bundle of broom straw with hardware store hose clamps.
You will need a hank of straws between 1″ to 2″ in diameter. Take your bundle of straws and bind them together with several hose clamps of the appropriate size side-by-side, leaving about 1/2″ of straw sticking out at one end. Leave a little gap between the hose clamps about halfway down the length of the bundle. At this opening, wick in a copious amount of glue all around the circumference and let it sit overnight. Any glue is fine.
Prepare the binding cord with a noose at one end. Make sure to leave a 4″ to 6″ tail at the noose so that there is something to tie the wrapping cord to after the second wrap.
The end result of simple materials and a simple process is an elegant tool that can change your approach to finishing. The tool should be so tightly bound that it makes a crisp sound when striking a hard surface. Simply snip the ends of the wrapping cord, trim the ends of the bound straw bundle, and the tool is ready to use.
Then take a string and tie a loop at one end of the cord. I simply double up the end and tie it into a knot leaving 3″ or 4″ inches of tail. Make a noose from the loop and the string leading to the ball. Place this about 1/8″ from the end of the straw bundle, cinch the noose and start wrapping it as tight as you can without breaking the string. Remove the hose clamps as you work your way down the bundle. When you get to the other end of the bundle (about 1/8″ shy of the end), hold the string in place with a spring clamp. Soak the string wrapping with dilute hide glue and let it set until dry. You can skip this gluing step if your burnisher will be cooked in molten beeswax as the final step. Then reverse the direction of your wrapping (same rotation but now you are working back toward your starting point) to return to the starting point. When you get there, tie off the wrapping string with the tail I mentioned earlier.
The effect of the polisher on well-prepared raw wood is readily apparent and almost instantaneous.
Soak the whole string surface with white glue or cross-linked hide glue and let it sit. Trim the straw bundle ends as needed. If your goal is to make a dry burnisher, you are done. If you want a wax-impregnated burnisher, melt some wax in an appropriate vessel and allow the wrapped bundle to soak in it until it is fully saturated. Remove the burnisher from the molten wax with appropriate caution and wipe the excess wax off. As soon as it cools to hardness it is ready to be put to work.
You know that this post is going to be about André-Jacob Roubo. But not entirely.
For me, woodworking books in the French tradition begin with a title we haven’t been able to publish from the “other André” – André Félibien’s “Des Principes de L’Architecture…” (1676). Félibien’s book, which includes sections on woodworking, was published before Joseph Moxon’s “Mechanick’s Exercises.” And Joseph, the naughty Englishman, ripped off many of Félibien’s images for his book.
We have attempted to translate this book on a couple occasions, but the effort has always drifted off track for one reason or another. I’d like to get it published because Félibien’s book illustrates the first instances of the double-screw vise (what we call a Moxon vise), the goberge clamping bars, a sliding deadman and a marquetry donkey (among other innovations).
Another Book We Don’t Publish Also important in the French canon is M. Duhamel’s “De L’Exploitation Des Bois” (1764). This is, as far as I can tell, the first book devoted to what we now call “green woodworking.” It deals with the seasoning of wood and explains wood movement using the same charts we use today. It covers making all sorts of things from green wood, from shoes to the frames for saddles. It covers wood bending and a wide variety of techniques.
We’ve started on this project a few times and it has proved to be a challenge. Someday.
And Another… You can’t really discuss French technical books without mentioning Denis Diderot and Jean le Rond d’Alembert’s “Encyclopédie,” a 32-volume work that covered, well, everything. It was an encyclopedia after all. There are sections on woodworking and the allied trades. But I find the “Encyclopédie” too general for me to own a set.
OK, Now Roubo A group of us have devoted a ridiculous amount of time and money to translate large chunks of Roubo’s “l’Art du menuisier,” which is an enormous multi-volume set on woodworking, joinery, furniture-making, marquetry, carriage making, garden woodworking, turning, finishing and many other topics of interest to the contemporary woodworker.
Unlike the other authors above, Roubo was a practicing joiner who studied architectural drawing at night (he drew the illustrations for his books) and interviewed fellow craftsmen to create his masterwork, which earned him a promotion from journeyman to master.
At times I think I am too close to this work and cannot adequately explain how completely intoxicating and challenging it is. Many woodworking books (even the ones I write personally) are fairly tame stuff, intellectually. While modern books help you grow a bit, Roubo is more like diving in headfirst to Thomas Pynchon right after mastering “Dick & Jane.” If you are willing to pay attention, you will be rewarded with nuggets of knowledge you can’t find elsewhere. Roubo has helped me directly with my finishing, the way I prepare glue, my understanding of campaign furniture, how I make brick moulding, designing galleries and on and on.
And I seriously doubt I’ll ever build a high-style French furniture. It’s not a book of projects.
We have two translated volumes that reflect a decade of work by Donald C. Williams, Michele Pietryka-Pagán, Philippe Lafargue and a team of editors and designers.
The second volume, “With All the Precision Possible: Roubo on Furniture,” covers all of Roubo’s writing on making furniture, plus the workshop, workshop appliances, tools and turning. This book is massive, and even though I’ve read it many times over, I refer to it regularly and consider it one of the foundations of my work.
Because we are insane, we also published a deluxe version of this book. It is $550. It is the nicest thing in the world that has my name in it. Carrying this book around is like lugging two giant pizzas to your car. Sitting down and reading it with a glass of bourbon is one of the greatest pleasures I know of.
I do love it. But still, it was a nutty thing to publish.
Slightly less nutty (but still up there) is “The Book of Plates.” This book reproduces all of the plates from Roubo’s books in full-size. This is a great companion if you buy a pdf of one of the two translations or happen to read ancient French.
And Finally I would be remiss if I didn’t mention “Grandpa’s Workshop” by Maurice Pommier, perhaps our most charming book. Ostensibly a children’s tale, it’s a delightful collection of illustrated stories about woodworking, craftsman and slaying dragons with a mortise chisel.
It’s a bit scary for overprotective parents (there’s a murder). But the rest of you will be delighted because Pommier is a devoted hand-tool woodworker. And so all the woodworking bits are perfectly rendered by someone who knows how to handle the tools. It is, to me, a pure delight to read.
