They drove off in a small char-à-banc, and soon left the town behind them.
When they were mounting the first hill M. Victorien said: “Your cousin has not then been much fatigued by his short campaign. I saw him only for a moment when he passed through with his corps. He is an energetic man, but he does not always take enough care of himself. How clearly he explains a thing, does he not? It is a pleasure to take lessons of him. We were fellow-students formerly, and he hesitated whether he should become an architect or a civil engineer. He had qualifications for both.”
“What is the difference, then, between an architect and an engineer?” Paul ventured to ask.
“Upon my word, that is a question not easy to answer—I will give you an apologue:—
“There were once two little twins who resembled each other so much that even their mother could not distinguish them. Not only were their features, height, and gait the same, but they had also the same tastes and abilities. They had to work with their hands, for their parents were poor. Both became masons. They acquired skill in their calling, and they worked equally well. Their father, a narrow-minded man, thought that these four hands which wrought at the same work with equal perfection, would produce more and do still better by allotting separate labours to each pair. To one of the pairs, therefore, he said: ‘You shall only do underground work;’ and to the other, ‘You shall only work aboveground.’ The brothers thought this scarcely reasonable, as they had been accustomed to help each other in both sorts of work; however, as they were obedient children they complied. But whereas hitherto these workmen had agreed and had co-operated to the advantage of the work, from that time forward they did not cease to dispute with each other. The one who worked above the cellars maintained that his foundations were not suitably prepared, and the one who laid the latter asserted that the conditions of their structure were not respected. The result was that they separated, and as each had now become habituated to his particular work, he remained unfit for anything else.”
“I think I see the gist of your apologue, but——”
“But it does not explain to you why a difference has been made between engineers and architects. In fact, a skilful engineer may be a good architect, as an accomplished architect ought to be a good engineer. Engineers make bridges, canals, docks, and embankments; but this does not prevent them from raising lighthouses, erecting factories, warehouses, and many other buildings. Architects ought to know how to do all these things; they actually did them formerly, because then the twin brothers were not separated, or rather, they were one and the same person. But since this individuality has been separated into two, each half follows its own direction. If the engineers build a bridge, the architects say it is ugly—and are not always wrong in saying so. If the architects build a palace, the engineers think, not without reason, that in its construction the materials have been employed unskilfully, and without due economy or an exact acquaintance with their properties in point of durability and strength.”
“But why do engineers build bridges which architects do not consider beautiful?”
“Because the question of art has been separated from that of science and calculation by that narrow-minded father who thought one brain could not entertain both. The architects have been told: ‘You are to be artists; you are to look at nothing but form—trouble yourselves about nothing but form;’ while to the engineers it has been said: ‘You are to occupy yourselves only with science and its applications; form does not concern you; leave that to artists who dream with their eyes open, and are incapable of reasoning!’
“Ah! that seems strange to your young mind, I can see. It is simply absurd, because the art of architecture is only a result of the art of constructing—that is, of employing materials according to their qualities or properties; and because architectural forms are notoriously derived from this judicious employment of them. But, my young friend, as you grow older, you will see in our poor country not a few even more important interests sticking in the rut of routine.—St! Bob, trot on! it’s all level now!”