Never in any country in the world has the worship of mere talent been carried to such an extent as in France. And the word “talent” is not here intended to imply capacity, but rather a kind of aptitude enabling its owner to shine. It is the kind of superiority in which is involved so much address and readiness of wit that it quickly degenerates into savoir faire, whereas genuine “capacity” leads its possessor to varied excellence, whence force of character and steadfastness of will can never be quite absent, or the capacity is an inferior one. But among the curiosities of French civilisation too superficially studied by foreigners is the habit of identifying every sort of superiority with the superiorities recognised by “society” and the “Court”—those of birth, position, and fashion.
A very remarkable proof of this lies in the attribution of honesty itself only to a certain class. The word “les honnêtes gens” was distinctive of those only who had the necessary qualifications for moving in the highest spheres—anything lower than that was not in the magic circle; and, besides the assumption of “honesty,” and of certain qualities constituting the British notion of a “gentleman,” talent was also instinctively ranked as belonging properly to those of a distinguished social standing. (more…)
Note: Here at Lost Art Press we spare no expense in sending Jeff Burks to the far reaches of the globe, searching through mythic dungeons and archives to uncover the most amazing information regarding the art of Woodworking. On one such expedition Jeff was in the dark and dank basement of Roy Underhill’s workshop where he discovered a loose floorboard. Encrusted by 30 years of wood shavings, he uncovered an Oak box which gave evidence of a mystic secret society of woodworkers. This vast group was run by a three-fingered shop teacher by the name of Daniel McDara. The writings to his minions were called The History of Wood. Jeff was able to retrieve this record and is now able to share it here. It is sometimes difficult to decipher, but to preserve the integrity of the find, the history has been left in its original format. Obviously hand scrawled, but filled with arcane secrets of the craft. I should also point out that this group appears to have been involved with doing demonstrations of some sort, and the “Military” that is being referred to are re-enactors, not our armed forces.
Students David, Rebecka and Pete showing off the results of their work.
When it comes to the issue of transporting a fully constructed Anarchist’s Tool Chest home, not every woodworker owns a truck. And even though the finished dimensions of the chest are easy to calculate, some people’s eyes are bigger than their Impalas.
I have had to do some wacky things to chests to get them into cars. On a few of the weirder ones, I am sworn to secrecy. Among the less weird:
• Shrink-wrapping it to the top of a Honda, “Beverly Hillbillies” style.
• Building it completely without glue so it can be flat-packed like Ikea stuff.
• Abandoning it at the school!
This week student David Eads pulled another common trick: Taking the car door off the hinges to get just enough space to sneak the chest into the back seat of a sedan. The whole process took 10 minutes. Tips: Have a box below the door and helpers so you can remove the door gently without destroying the wiring or dropping the door on the ground (this has happened.)
I head home on Sunday with this tool chest on my mind. We are getting the electronic files ready for our sixth printing of “The Anarchist’s Tool Chest.” Love it or hate it, this is the book that let me quit my job. So thank you for buying it.
One of the interesting aspects of the book “The Anarchist’s Tool Chest” is how many of the readers are active members of the military, government officials or managers in huge internet corporations.
I have lost count of the number of e-mails that begin like this: “I would like to order this book, but I don’t think it can be mailed to me on base, and I can’t have it show up on my credit card.”
We are happy to oblige and always ship our books in a plain brown wrapper.
This last week I’ve been teaching a class in building The Anarchist’s Toolchest at The Woodworker’s Club in Rockville, Md. The club is an interesting place – you don’t see many clubs like this except on the East or West coasts of the United States or in Europe.
Essentially, The Woodworker’s Club is, first of all, a place where you can pay a monthly fee to use a fully equipped and impeccably maintained workshop. There are lots of workbenches and an impressively equipped machine shop (a 16” SCMI joiner with a Shelix head?).
There is a lot of staff support, and the Maryland club also has an entire Woodcraft store up front.
As we were building a dozen tool chests this week, I got to watch the club’s members work among us, both in the bench rooms and in the machine room. I have to say this: Without a doubt, I have never seen a more diverse group of woodworkers. There was a healthy mix of men and women of all ages, races and ethnicities, working away at their personal projects.
It was very cool and quite heartening. If you live in the D.C. area and cannot set up shop in your apartment or condo, stop by the club and talk to Chris, Matt or Amy. They will be happy to help you get started in the craft without having to invest a year of your salary in machines alone.
During this class, I lost track of how many of the students were connected to the military or the government. And after a Thursday-night open house at the club, I was overwhelmed by the response of people to the anti-establishment ideas I write.
So now I think it’s a good idea if I sneak out of town before anyone notices what I’ve been teaching.
Yeah, we all built rectangular boxes this week, but what is radical is what goes inside.
We recently came across an article in one of our most esteemed contemporaries, remarks the Sanitary Plumber, in which, under the above title, the writer had sought to illustrate the difference between the honest employe, whose interests were identical with those of his employer, and the indifferent mechanic who seems to have no care or thought beyond the fact that he is paid for his time, and that as long as he puts in the requisite number of hours and maintains a show, of doing something, he is furnishing a fair equivalent for his wages.
Unfortunately, the remarks offered by the writer are only too true. There are plenty of such workmen in the market, but the question is, are the employers not to a certain extent to blame for their existence? Let us explain. One of these unsatisfactory mechanics finds his way into a shop and it does not take long to discover his presence. The proper thing for the employer to do, after giving him due warning, is to lay him off. He is an unprofitable servant, and no one is bound to keep him.
Stern necessity will compel him very soon either to mend his ways or he will go to the wall—that is, if he does not bring up in some snug harbor where his employer is as slack as himself. “It is the opportunity that makes the thief,” is an old and well proved proverb, and it is the fact that they find employers willing to put up with them that is responsible for the existence of so many of these circulating nuisances.
It may seem strange that employers should be so blind to their own interests as to tolerate such an unprofitable servant. Sometimes carelessness is the cause of their indifference, sometimes they are ignorant of the failings of their men for obvious reasons, or they may have good cause for keeping such men on their books. This much is certain, if the employer knew his duty and did it, these makeshift mechanics would be compelled to give place to better men.
Another fruitful source of the careless workman is the shop were everything is done in a slipshod manner. “Hurry up, it’s good enough;” has spoiled many a good man, and if an employer habitually crowds his men with more work than they can properly accomplish, denies them the right as it were to honestly perform their alloted tasks, he has only himself to blame if eventually they become as careless as he is.
Where such shiftlessness involves a loss to the customer it becomes culpable dishonesty, and the employer who permits this has only himself to blame if he becomes eventually the victim of his workman’s lack of rectitude.
We are weary of reading dolorous complaints and criticisms where the power to remedy the evils complained of rests with the complainer. There would be an immediate and permanent decrease in the number of lazy and negligent workmen if every employer kept up to the mark himself and had those he paid do the same thing.
