Oil on canvas by the American painter Francis William Edmonds. This painting, owned by the Chrysler Museum, was first exhibited at the National Academy of Design, New York in 1845.
The scene depicts a joiner leaning back in his chair as he contemplates a decanter of spirits near the window. On the wall is a handbill advertising a Temperance Reform Meeting.
Edmonds was concerned that artisans were especially susceptible to alcoholism. His painting was engraved by Thomas Doney in 1847 to illustrate a sermonizing circular by the Temperance Society.
Is a Sort of Marquetry or inlaid Work; whereby ſeveral thin Slices, or Leaves of fine Woods of different Kinds are applied and faſtened on a Ground of ſome common Wood.
There are two kinds of inlaying; the one which is the more ordinary, goes no farther than the making Compartments of different Woods; the other requires a great deal more Art, and repreſents Flowers, Birds, and the like.
The firſt kind is what we properly call Veneering; the latter is deſcribed under the Article Marquetry.
The Wood intended for Veneering is firſt ſawed out into thin Slices or Leaves, about a Line thick; in order to ſaw them, the Blocks or Planks are placed upright, in a kind of Sawing preſs.
Theſe Slices are afterwards cut into narrow Slips, and faſhioned divers ways, according to the Deſign propoſed: after this the Joints are carefully adjuſted, and the Pieces brought down to their proper Thickneſs, with ſeveral Plans [sic] for the Purpoſe, then they are glued down on a Ground or Block of dry Wood, with good ſtrong Engliſh Glue.
The Pieces being thus jointed and glued, the Work, if ſmall, is put into a Preſs; if large, it is laid on a Bench covered with a Board, and preſs’d down with Poles or Pieces of Wood, one End of which reaches to the Cieling of the room, and the other bears on the Board.
When the Glue is thoroughly dry, they take it out of the Preſs and finiſh it; firſt with little Planes, afterwards with divers Scrapers, ſome of which reſemble Raſps, which take off the Dents, &c. left by the Planes.
When the work has been ſufficiently ſcraped, it is poliſhed with the skin of a Sea-dog, Wax and a Bruſh, and a Poliſher of Shave-graſs: which is the laſt Operation. (more…)
The oblong block takes up the majority of the card. It stands on a raised wooden floor, which is partly executed in parquetry. Two wide pilasters on the sides of the block support a line of dentils and an overhanging cornice with a cavetto moulding. The block is shaded with parallel lines. The text appears between the pilasters. A trophy of measuring instruments hangs from a ribbon tied to a stud on the left pilaster. Fixed to the right pilaster with a stud, there is a scroll of paper with illustrations of five column capitals and the text ‘Ionique … Architecture’.
Surmounting the block there is a planter in the shape of an orange tub. The planter has two ball finials. The planter is shaded with parallel lines and bears three fleurs-de-lis, now obliterated with pen and ink. Two large sprays of laurel flank the planter. A ribbon bearing the name of the shop sign entwines through the laurel and over the planter. The word ‘Roialle’ appears to the right of the planter and is obliterated with pen and ink.
To the right of the block, there is a shed and a workbench. The side of the shed is open. Inside there are lots of planks of wood. A frame saw hangs in the entrance of the shed. On the workbench and resting against it, there are various tools of the carpenter’s trade.
To the left of the block, there is a case maker jointer, several tools and planks of wood. There are three small boxes at lower centre. At lower left, there are three larger containers, some in pieces, with nail holes marked. (more…)
Our advices from Paris ſay, that a journeyman joiner, an Engliſhman, who had worked ſometime in that city, had been forming a ſcheme to raiſe the wages of all the journeymen joiners there. For this end he had occaſioned a general meeting, at which he repreſented to them, that their wages being too ſmall, it was neceſſary for them to demand an augmentation, and if that ſhould be denied, that they ſhould all refuſe to work.
At the ſame time a collection was made of three livres apiece, to be applied to the ſupport of thoſe who could not ſupport themſelves without employment; and he further propoſed, that all ſuch as ſhould refuſe to come into theſe meaſures, ſhould be ill treated by the reſt, which was generally agreed to, and one then preſent refuſing was ſeverely drubbed.
But the lieutenant-general of Police having been preſently informed of this combination, he took proper meaſures to defeat it, by ſending the projector, and ſeveral of his accomplices, to priſon, and threatning every journeyman joiner with the ſame fate, who refuſed to work at his uſual wages.
The London Magazine, Or, Gentleman’s Monthly Intelligencer – Dec. 1749
In light of the French Oak Roubo Project happening this week in Atlanta, I thought it would be appropriate to post some French poetry to help celebrate the occasion. The piece I have chosen comes from the booklet titled Bluettes – Poésies par V. D. published in France, 1866. The poem depicts an old joiner speaking to his favorite plane, the subtext being death. If you speak French, then you are welcome to read the original rhyming couplets here.
Below is my ham-fisted English translation. I have no intention of re-writing the poem to make it rhyme in English. Hopefully I have captured the essence of the poem without making any egregious errors. Please feel free to make corrections in the comments.
–Jeff Burks
An Old Joiner to his Try Plane
For half a century, oh my dear try plane,
Thy wood hard and shiny, thy sharp iron gallops,
Pushed by my hands on my old workbench.
By thy constant assistance, ah! how I polished
Planks of pine, poplar, oak!
Quickly when thee take my arms for a stroll,
The coarsest and most resistant wood
Are now transformed into elegant furniture,
Into objects of every kind and any appearance.
From morning to evening we are present;
Together we walk an area bounded,
Four paces at most. At work confined,
For principal tool, you know, I chose you:
You were my livelihood, and I thank you.
But I am old, and I feel my strength failing.
My hand, which once led you without faltering,
Now I soon weary from thy weight.
Thyself, here you are very old and well worn.
Our long lease ends, and we will, shortly be
Discarded, one in the earth, and the other in the fire.
