Category: To Make as Perfectly as Possible, Roubo Translation

The most modern of these different works are at least of the last century, and we don’t make them now because they say: This is not in style. As if that which is really beautiful [is] not forever, and that works of sculpture and or gold, often very mediocre (as is made too often nowadays), were preferable to chefs-d’oeuvre of the last century, for which we have no regard for any more, and for which we have substituted elegant super-abundance, which has no other merit than being of the passing style, which is soon erased by another, which doesn’t even exist longer than the caprice of those who have invented it.

— A.J. Roubo, “L’Art du Menuisier”

Editor’s note: The below entry is part of a series of articles we have commissioned Brian Anderson to write about André Roubo in preparationd for the publication of “To Make as Perfectly as Possible: Roubo on Marquetry.” Brian, the translator for “Grandpa’s Workshop,” also wrote this entry on Roubo’s famous dome.

It must have been a popular topic for the local gossips – the apprentice joiner André Roubo begging, here and there, a cup of lard or tallow from the taverns and housewives in the Paris neighborhood.

A boy from a poor family begging a cup of lard for his mother to cook, would have been one thing. But the young André did not want it to cook with, but to fuel a simple oil lamp for light to study by. At the time, in the 1750s, it would have been rare enough for an ordinary worker to even know how to read. Spending money on  learned books on geometry, mathematics, perspective and design and then plowing through them would have been a scandal in itself.

Roubo had been born in 1739 into a working class family. His father was a joiner, but according to the noted French architect, Louis-Auguste Boileau, who wrote a short biography of Roubo in 1834, the father was a worker of the crudest sort. The young man, apprenticed to his father at 12 or so, soon realized both that he loved the theory and practice of joinery, and that if he did not want to spend his life doing the lowest sorts of work for pennies a day, he would have to figure a way up and out himself.

Boileau wrote that he threw himself into his studies, going hungry sometimes to purchase his first books out of the pittance his father allowed him for his work. The young joiner attracted the notice of others with his enthusiasm, talent and thirst for learning as he worked for his father, eventually becoming a joiner in his own right.

But his big break came when a noted architect, Jean-Francois Blondel, took Roubo under his tutelage and gave him free tuition to his well-regarded school of architecture in Paris.

For five years, Roubo worked in his trade during the day; and then evenings, weekends, every free moment available, he spent pouring over the lessons Blondel set out for him. Mathematics, mechanics, perspective, design, different types of drawing. Plus, the building blocks of architecture, which also gave him enormous insight into his own trade.

Roubo proved as apt at these studies as he had at the practice of joinery, but Boileau notes that unlike some presented with a similar opportunity, Roubo apparently loved his craft. He loved to work wood, and was not tempted to move “up” into architecture.

Blondel was also a practicing architect, and a member of the French Academy of the Fine Arts, and his young protégé also proved adept at extending his circle of acquaintances from the people he met through the school and among the architect’s circles of friends and colleagues.

These connections would later prove invaluable, as Roubo’s thoughts turned from his studies to writing his own books.

— Brian Anderson

Fish glue is the best that one can use for gluing hard woods and metals. It is made with the skin, nervous and mucilaginous parts of certain large fish [sturgeon], which are found in the Russian seas. It is in the north where fish glue is made, from where the English and the Dutch bring it to us, especially from the Port of Archangel, where it is a good business. Good fish glue has hardly any odor, and should be of a white color, clear and transparent. One must pay attention that is not contaminated, that is, mixed of heterogeneous parts.

To make fish glue melt, you take it in the following manner: You begin by cutting the hard, dry glue in little pieces, then you put it in a clay pot or a glass vessel with good brandy, noting that the latter covers the glue. Then you bottle up the vessel, which one must fill only half full, and you put it all on hot cinders just until the glue dissolves perfectly. Or, you can cut the glue as above, and you soak it in the brandy until it has softened, then you make it melt in a double boiler, as is normally done.

There are workers who, instead of brandy, put the fish glue in ordinary water to which they add a garlic clove. This is rather good, but is not the same as brandy, to which one can add a bit of garlic, which can only augment the strength of the glue.

One can do the same thing with good English glue; that is to say, put [it] in brandy and garlic. I have done it many times, and that has always been successful for me.

— A.J. Roubo

I honestly doubt the following blog entry will convince a single person to purchase the deluxe “To Make as Perfectly as Possible: Roubo on Marquetry.” In fact, it might make a few of you rescind your orders.

But so be it.

Editing this book has been a personal struggle the likes of which I haven’t had since 1979. That was the year I heard “Outlandos d’Amour,” the first record from The Police. That piece of vinyl wrenched me from the mainstream of American pop music and set me on a journey of discovery that continues to this day – I purchase at least one album a week. “Outlandos” inspired me to learn to play bass guitar and the electric six-string. It pushed me to start a rock band I in was in through college and beyond.

But it also was a painful social transition that kicked me to the sidelines of Fort Smith, Ark.

As I have been reading A.J. Roubo – both in English and French – and struggling at times, I have had one verse from The Police running through my head almost the entire time.

And on the days that followed
I listened to his words
I strained to understand him
I chased his thoughts like birds

You will see light in the darkness
You will make some sense of this

That is the only way I can explain what it’s like to read this stuff. Unlike most woodworking books, Roubo can be an incredible mental challenge for the 21st-century woodworker. It is not for babies. If you think this book is going to spoon-feed you the secrets to French marquetry and joinery, I’m afraid it will disappoint.

I struggled for two days with Roubo’s explanation of drawing in perspective. Figuring out the tail vise on his “German Workbench” was like wrestling a brown bear. I’m still straining in places to understand some of his explanations for working curved pieces of marquetry.

I don’t blame Roubo. The fault lies with our modern minds and the way we are accustomed to learning. Because when clarity comes, it is like lightning. Things relating to veneer, layout and marquetry that seemed difficult or impossible are actually quite straightforward. I might not (yet) have the hand skills to do them, but I know the shortest and easiest route to get there.

And after enough flashes of insight and slapping my forehead until it is red, I have found inspiration in Roubo’s words and what is beneath his words.

Roubo’s footnotes reveal the man as one of us – someone any woodworker would love to drink a glass of wine with (I’d probably order a saison). Like us, Roubo was struggling to make sense of a craft that was dying in front of his eyes. He laments the skills and techniques that are lost. He bemoans the cheap goods that are supplanting works made with a skilled hand. He questions his own capability as a woodworker and his limits.

These volumes have been inspiring in ways I can’t quite put into words – except to compare it to hearing “Can’t Stand Losing You” on the radio and then picking up my uncle’s guitar, determined to learn to play and sing that song for myself.

Tomorrow I have to leave for Atlanta for a short trip, but I’ll be back on Monday and back in the shop to whittle down my long list of projects and put the finishing touches on the last chapter of our Roubo translation. I cannot wait. Soon – very soon – you will also be able to chase Roubo’s thoughts like birds.

— Christopher Schwarz

P.S. Indeed, today is the last day to order our deluxe edition of “To Make as Perfectly as Possible” until the book is released. You can place a $100 deposit on the book here in our store. Don’t fret if you cannot afford the deluxe edition. There will be plenty of our trade editions available for everyone. Read the Roubo FAQ here.