My name is Othon le Quarrelier, and I come from a family of stonemasons living in the town of Rouen, France.
Of course I am a stonemason too.
I wouldn't do anything else because over the centuries stonemasons have built marvelous structures in every corner of the world,
from the Egyptian pyramids to the Parthenon in Greece.
We stonemasons have always been in demand for our great skills, and the work we do, cutting and shaping stone, hasn't changed much.
But at this time, in 1220, stonemasons are building a greater variety of structures—bridges, cathedrals, and castles—than ever before.
My father was a master stonemason, but he did not teach me the trade.
He paid another master mason nearby to take me on as an apprentice when I was 11 years old.
I lived with this master mason for seven years to learn the craft.
I was taught how to select stone from the quarry, a deep excavation pit outside of town that contains the material we use.
Then I learned how to use the tools of masonry: hammers, chisels, the compass, and the set square.
The set square helps me make sure the walls I build are straight and true, so that my corners form ninety-degree angles.
I learned how to use my hammer and chisel to turn a rough block of stone into a carved and polished building block.
My master showed me how to work the stone carefully and patiently, and how to place the finished stone into position in a wall and set it in mortar.
Eventually I left my teacher and began the life of a journeyman, someone who has finished his apprenticeship but is not yet a master mason.
Journeyman masons often travel from place to place, looking for work.
Whenever I came to a new town, I'd visit the local guildhall, a place where a stonemason can find a job, a place to sleep, and good food.
Master masons at the guildhall test the journeymen, and if they're skilled and pass the test, the master masons hire them.
Once a journeyman gets a job, he chisels his personal mark on the stone he carves so the master mason can evaluate his work.
Some of the buildings that stonemasons create are so tall and beautiful that many people believe our skills must be magical.
But the secret to our success is geometry, which we learn early in our apprenticeship.
Geometry is a branch of mathematics that involves the relationships between lines and angles,
and the size, shape, and position of objects within space. Geometry makes masonry possible.
After working as a journeyman for a number of years, I acquired the skills to become a master mason,
and now I direct the masonry work at the cathedral in Chartres.
Twenty-six years ago, in 1194, most of the building was destroyed when a lightning strike caused a huge fire,
which consumed a lot of the town as well.
People were very upset since the town was a popular pilgrimage destination.
So the local bishop decided to rebuild the cathedral and make it much grander.
It's taken a long time, but we're almost finished.
Since I am responsible for the entire project, I hire the journeymen masons, carpenters, glassmakers, and all the other laborers necessary.
Over two hundred people work for me, and I live in a temporary house right next to the construction site so I'm always on hand to supervise the work.
My stonemasons are divided into two groups: one group works at the quarry five miles away, cutting and shaping the rocks,
and the other group polishes the stone blocks on-site and sets them in place with mortar.
To cut the rocks, a mason uses a number of tools, including axes, chisels, and hammers.
The ax is used to hack at the rock to remove large chunks of unwanted stone.
To make the rock even smaller, a mason uses a chisel to chip off smaller pieces of rock.
By doing this at the quarry, we greatly reduce the rock's weight, which makes it easier to transport to the building site.
The previous cathedral was small and had very few windows, so it was dark and gloomy inside.
The new church has tall towers that seem to climb up to heaven and huge stained-glass windows that fill the cathedral with light.
To achieve these breathtaking effects, I used full-scale drawings on plaster on the site's floor.
They helped me visualize the project and calculate the amounts of materials and the number of men I would need.
For this cathedral we worked from the early spring through the warm months, which allowed the mortar holding the stones in place to dry thoroughly.
During the winter construction stopped, and the masons carved the statues on the west wall of the cathedral.
Notice how their robes make the vertical lines of the soaring structure seem even taller.
The masons also carved other smaller statues—such as gargoyles,
which direct rainwater away from the building so it does not damage the foundation.
Masons must pay very close attention to small details.
As the cathedral began to rise, my masons had to work at great heights—very dangerous work.
My former teacher was badly hurt when he fell during the construction of the cathedral in Reims.
Getting building materials to these heights was difficult, but we managed.
We accomplished this by leaving openings, called putlog holes, in the stone at regular intervals.
We used the holes to hold logs on which we placed wood planks to create platforms that can be reached by a ladder.
Then we used special cranes to hoist the stone up to our workmen on the platforms.
When the building is finished, the logs and platforms will be removed and the putlog holes filled in with mortar.
It can be dangerous work, but I love working with stone.
And I'm proud that this cathedral will live on after me.
It will proclaim to future generations that whenever the highest quality of craftsmanship is needed, stonemasons will be there.