Style and space: Architecture
Designed for living
When we buy into the romance and rustic charm of the beautiful stone farmhouses and the sleepy villages of the Cevennes, the last thing on our minds is the harshness of life here before the modern era of travel, and the second-home culture we now inhabit. To its former occupants, the charming, hillside mas was a working building on which their very survival depended. When we look again at the buildings from this perspective, much of the curious architecture begins to make sense.
What is most staggering is how these houses have literally been hewn out of the landscape. Massive stone walls - granite, schist or limestone, depending on the area and altitude – built with locally made lime; enormous chestnut beams cut from the forests; roof tiles of slate dug from nearby quarries, or terra-cotta fired in communal kilns.
While necessity forced the Cevenol to become skilled at making the most of the materials at hand, it also determined the design of the houses and some of their most interesting features. In contrast to our modern appetite for ‘living’ space, one of the surprising facts about the typical Cevenol house is how little of the space served in that capacity. On a large property, family living space may have been restricted to a few small rooms on the first floor, while below them the livestock and above their heads the silkworms were awarded the far greater share of the voluminous barns, attics and countless cellars.
At the topmost level of the house there was often a small room or roof structure that served as a dovecote or pigeonnier. This was not for the delight of the inhabitants. The young pigeon, or squab, was a welcome alternative to the daily staple of chestnut soup. The old nesting boxes can still be found in many houses in the region although the taste for pigeon is not what it was.
Designed for living
When we buy into the romance and rustic charm of the beautiful stone farmhouses and the sleepy villages of the Cevennes, the last thing on our minds is the harshness of life here before the modern era of travel, and the second-home culture we now inhabit. To its former occupants, the charming, hillside mas was a working building on which their very survival depended. When we look again at the buildings from this perspective, much of the curious architecture begins to make sense.
What is most staggering is how these houses have literally been hewn out of the landscape. Massive stone walls - granite, schist or limestone, depending on the area and altitude – built with locally made lime; enormous chestnut beams cut from the forests; roof tiles of slate dug from nearby quarries, or terra-cotta fired in communal kilns.
While necessity forced the Cevenol to become skilled at making the most of the materials at hand, it also determined the design of the houses and some of their most interesting features. In contrast to our modern appetite for ‘living’ space, one of the surprising facts about the typical Cevenol house is how little of the space served in that capacity. On a large property, family living space may have been restricted to a few small rooms on the first floor, while below them the livestock and above their heads the silkworms were awarded the far greater share of the voluminous barns, attics and countless cellars.
At the topmost level of the house there was often a small room or roof structure that served as a dovecote or pigeonnier. This was not for the delight of the inhabitants. The young pigeon, or squab, was a welcome alternative to the daily staple of chestnut soup. The old nesting boxes can still be found in many houses in the region although the taste for pigeon is not what it was.
Again, other functions commanded priority over
accomodation. There were times over the centuries
when survival in these hills depended almost
entirely on the humble chestnut, and it retains a
special place in the traditions and folklore of the
region. Each old house has its clède, a room or
small outlying building where the chestnuts were
dried. You can still see the blackened stones where
the crop was spread out above a smouldering fire
for days until dry, whereupon they could be ground
into flour, or used to fatten the pigs for hams and
sausages for which this region is renowned.
With the introduction of the silk industry in the 18 th century, this part of France entered its ‘golden age’, and for the first time money was available to improve and extend the houses. Time and labour were invested in the creation of magnaneries, rooms that housed the silkworms. You can still see the evidence in the many raised roof lines still visible on walls, and the tall, arched windows which form the most obvious — and most curiously contemporary — architectural legacy from this era. Further evidence of a magnanerie is the large number of chimneys and small fireplaces that were needed to keep these natives of Asia warm during the colder months, as well as numerous vents just below the eaves to keep them cool during the summer.
With the introduction of the silk industry in the 18 th century, this part of France entered its ‘golden age’, and for the first time money was available to improve and extend the houses. Time and labour were invested in the creation of magnaneries, rooms that housed the silkworms. You can still see the evidence in the many raised roof lines still visible on walls, and the tall, arched windows which form the most obvious — and most curiously contemporary — architectural legacy from this era. Further evidence of a magnanerie is the large number of chimneys and small fireplaces that were needed to keep these natives of Asia warm during the colder months, as well as numerous vents just below the eaves to keep them cool during the summer.
When one thinks of cellars in France, one thinks of
wine. Although there is some small production in
parts of the Cevennes (mostly the foothills between
Anduze and Uzes), cellars were mainly used for many
other purposes, but primarily for keeping animals.
Between the goats, the sheep, the cattle and the
odd mule, these houses were a veritable menagerie.
Poultry running around the lower courtyard, or
basse-cour, cages of rabbits and of course the
unfortunate pig, munching his way inexorably
towards his demise. In fact, a common fixture that
is set into the ceiling of many of these cellars is
a two pronged hook that looks as if it might be
quite useful to hang farm implements, but is in
fact for suspending the animals while being
butchered.
Two important architectural features in the Cevenol house served those most fundamental of human needs; bread and water. It is still common to come across old bread ovens that hark back to the days before people simply jumped in their cars and drove to their local boulangerie. While the farms would have their own ovens or fours, the inhabitants of a small village might share one. Built of stone in the shape of a dome, the oven would first be heated with an intense fire of chestnut or oak. The cinders and ash would then be raked out, the dough placed inside and the whole thing sealed with a snug fitting stone. One can imagine how good the bread tasted.
Water is a problem in regions of southern France like the Cevennes. There is either too much or too little. While good drainage and solid roofs may take care of the problems caused by a heavy downpour, some form of collection was necessary for the fairly long periods of drought. Unless they were lucky enough to have a spring on the property most houses and farms had a citerne,
or cistern usually located below the ground. More often than not this was carved out of solid stone and covered with a mix of waterproofing mortar. An ingenious system for collecting rainwater from the roof was used. When it rained the first few gallons of water were allowed to run off directly so as to ‘wash’ the roof, then a manoeuvrable drainpipe was swung into place so that the cistern would begin to fill.
Two important architectural features in the Cevenol house served those most fundamental of human needs; bread and water. It is still common to come across old bread ovens that hark back to the days before people simply jumped in their cars and drove to their local boulangerie. While the farms would have their own ovens or fours, the inhabitants of a small village might share one. Built of stone in the shape of a dome, the oven would first be heated with an intense fire of chestnut or oak. The cinders and ash would then be raked out, the dough placed inside and the whole thing sealed with a snug fitting stone. One can imagine how good the bread tasted.
Water is a problem in regions of southern France like the Cevennes. There is either too much or too little. While good drainage and solid roofs may take care of the problems caused by a heavy downpour, some form of collection was necessary for the fairly long periods of drought. Unless they were lucky enough to have a spring on the property most houses and farms had a citerne,
or cistern usually located below the ground. More often than not this was carved out of solid stone and covered with a mix of waterproofing mortar. An ingenious system for collecting rainwater from the roof was used. When it rained the first few gallons of water were allowed to run off directly so as to ‘wash’ the roof, then a manoeuvrable drainpipe was swung into place so that the cistern would begin to fill.
In our modern world full of every gadget and
convenience it is hard to imagine the life of the
average Cevenol from centuries past. When one
begins to look at the effort that was required just
to provide the basic essentials of life one has to
admire their courage and tenacity. The next time
you visit the region, take some time to pause and
‘read’ the architecture around you. Many of the
features described here may suddenly acquire
greater significance upon second sight, a new
respect for the craftsmanship and inventiveness
that went into their creation, and a deeper
connection with the region’s history.
