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LANDSCAPE AND MEMORY


SIMON SCHAMA

HarperCollinsPublishers

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JUNE

8,

1660

A blare of brass by the edge of the Bidassoa, so loud it shook the water, too loud for the gaunt old king of Spain, whose eyes were rheumy and myopic but whose hearing was still acute. Not loud enough for the strapping young king of France, whose crowing triumph sounded in the fanfares just as it was inscribed in the Treaty of the Pyrenees. But the proprieties, at least, were all observed. Resigned to his sacrifice, EI Rey Planeta, Philip IV, he whom Quevedo and Lope de Vega had proclaimed could stop the stars in their tracks, permitted himself to be quietly rowed to the island in the center of the stream. Unfortunately, facing the French bank, he was forced to observe, as usual, the immense and gaudy show of Bourbon gallantry: capes of brocaded silk trimmed with silver and gold, overdressed horses, great plumes on the hats of the cavaliers, scarlet boots, the fleur-de-Iys pennants laughing on the pavilions, muskets and drums, sabers and sashes, heathen vulgarity. Just as it was in 1615. Nothing had changed . But of course everything had changed. Forty-five years before, the boy Philip had stood patiently in a floating pavilion in sight of the Isle of Pheasants, while the dauphin Louis, the child of Henry of Navarre, had waited on his tented raft opposite, as their betrothed princesses drifted obediently toward them. They had pretended equality then, but what was poor, bloodied France, with its belly hill of heretics, to the stupendous empire of Spain, which stretched from Peru to the Indies? It was Habsburg blood that had then deigned to be mingled with Bourbon in the midstream of their common river. And how altered was his sister Anne, become the shrewd creature of Cardinal Mazarin; the mother of this new Louis, with his precocious Apollonian vanities. He preferred to recall her as she had been that earlier day on the river, a veiled and demure child. Certainly she had not been fortunate. Widowed early, Anne had been tossed about in the gales of French faction and rebellion, chased from Paris, until Mazarin had made her court secure through an exquisitely calculated work of ruthlessness and corruption. Be that as it may, she had become

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a harpy, presuming, so the queen told him, to lay down the law to their daughter on what she might or might not wear, commanding her to dress in costume la franfaise for the marriage. So be it if God wills it thus. In his most stoically grave manner, Don Luis de Haro had come from the tent on the floating island last November and counselled the king that there was no alternative but to sign the peace and marry his daughter to Louis XlV. His treasury was exhausted, the American silver gone, his troops mutinous. The minister had made every effort to salve the wound. Such a family compact, signed, sealed, and sworn on the river separating their realms, would, he opined, finally bind up the terrible wounds of their endless war. Yet even as he said this there was on his face the unmistakable look of a man obliged to drink sour wine down to the lees. What, the king had objected, if this marriage should produce an heir to the two realms, as if the Pyrenees themselves had been levelled? But how could that be, the minister had responded, seeing that Infante Felipe Prosper was so robust, so clearly destined for the throne? But hardly had the paint on Diego Velazquez's pamtmg dried than the little prince, not yet four, had perished, like so many of his family before him. His old father, whose countenance at the best of times was mirthless, now composed itself into a funereal mask as he dragged his bones to the river in the jolting carriage. What did it matter? Very soon he would be gathered to his ancestors and to his Heavenly Father and like all his royal forebears needed to concentrate all the energies that remained to him in prayers of atonement, imploring the Almighty that his countless sins would not be visited on his unhappy people. From the other bank of the Bidassoa, which the French preferred to call the Dendaye, the prospect seemed a good deal fairer, always excepting his bride, of course. Louis did not need to look at Marie-Therese to know the worst. It was enough (begging his mother's pardon) that she was a Habsburg. So that he fully expected just what he got: the long fleshy nose, the threads of fine blond hair, the large weak eyes, the alarming jaw. But along with that would be a becoming piety, a pleasing submissiveness, and, he fervently hoped, fecund blood, so that he would not have to spend undue time and

effort producing an heir when his passions could be excercised in more agree able company. So the king put on his most amiable face and affected to enjoy everything that was presented to him: the noisy Te Deum, the long ballet in the Hotel de Ville featuring a painted galliot pulled across the stage, the interminable eulogies. Surrounded by the noblesse de sang, attended by his personal guard, the Cent Suisses, as well as troops of light horse, musketeers, and pikemen, more than a thousand in all, overwhelming the thinner ranks of Spanish grandees and horsemen, the young king stood beneath his fleur-de-lys canopy as the princess was towed across the river in her boat. Nothing had to be done except the most

Diego Velazquez, Portrait of Philip IV, ca. 16 55.

Anonymous, Exchange of brides on the River Bidassoa, 161 5.

formal exchange of greetings and salutes, according to the exact protocol arranged by the respective masters of ceremony.38 There were brief toasts, a bouquet of poems, a most pleasing and delicate show of tears by the princess and her mother, the usual speech from Philip, regretting the loss of his daughter, consoled by her great destiny as the queen of France, and so on and so on, an incongruously wan smile slowly creeping across his dolorous face like the moon at dawn just before it vanished in the sunlight. The next day their marriage was solemnized in the chapel at Saint-Jean-deLuz by the bishop of Bayonne. That it took place firmly on the French side of the border was meant to emphasize Louis's claim, now conceded, to sovereignty over the frontier province of Roussillon. The finesse of these gestures

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across the little Bidassoa had a long history.39 In 1463 Louis XI of France and Henry of Castile had met on the river and in 1530 Franc;:ois I had ransomed two Spanish princes for his own return to France. Between 1564 and 1566 Charles IX, accompanied by his mother, the formidable Catherine de'. Medici, had deliberately toured the limits of his kingdom, in an effort to assert their rights to the disputed territory of Roussillon. Though the king went to the edge (but not over) his river border, Catherine exploited her family role as the mother of the queen of Spain to cross into that realm. So the significance of the marriage itself taking place behind the common blood-and-waterline, on French soil, was not lost on contemporaries. From Saint-Jean-de-blz the court travelled to Bordeaux, where they passed through arcs de triomphe and were required to listen to more loyal addresses of felicitation from the magistrates of the Parlement. In Paris these gestures were repeated yet again (as they had been all along the route). But in addition there was a seventy-foot-long allegorical Ship of State moored beside the Louvre upon which rested a great globe of the world held aloft by two figures representing France and Spain, who managed at the same time to shower blessings on the throngs of people on the riverbank. 40 That same night a fireworks version of the same vessel exploded over the Seine as the great golden ship seemed to sail off into the night sky, trailing behind it a wake of fire.

Israel Silvestre, Vaux-IeVicomte, cascade and reflecting pool.

on August 17, 1661, Louis XIV was presented with another spectacle of pyrotechnics, indeed another ship offire. But this time he drew no satisfaction from the divertissement. His host was the superintendent of finances, Nicolas Fouquet, eager (mistakenly, as it turned out) to show off his spectacular chateau ofVaux-le-Vicomte. Solicitous of the king's vanity, he had taken good care to order fireworks arrangements in which the king's monogram was interlaced with that of the queen and Queen Mother, both in attendance. But pyrotechnical hubris overcame him when he went so far as to display, for general amusement he supposed, a fiery version of one of his whal ing boats, complete with cetacean spouting flame. And if Louis had not been so out of temper with the stunning display of elegance he saw at Vaux, perhaps amusement might indeed have offset royal envy. But the more the king saw, the more he coveted and the more he nlmed. And since Jean-Baptiste Colbert had been whispering constantly of Fouquet's malversations, of his financing Vaux by raiding the royal treasury, the more convinced Louis became that the palatial brilliance ofVaux-le-Vicomte was itself proof of a kind of lese-majeste) if not of outright treason. What were those whaling ships moored at Fouquet's private island off the coast of Brittany for, if not to create a floating imperium in imperio?
A YEAR LATER,
I'

Perhaps, too, there was another aspect of Vaux which cut to the royal quick: its water. Not content with razing an entire village, levelling the hills in which it was set, and planting a forest where there had been tilled fields, Fouquet had also diverted a local river to feed the spectacular pattern of fountains, cascades, and reflecting pools that extended the design of the house into the park. Surrounded by a gracenIi, ostentatiously dysfunctional moat, the house and gardens seem, as Vincent Scully has put it, to have been slipped over a taut skin ofwater. 41 Superficially, Fouquet's great landscape gardener, Andre Ie Notre, retained the traditional Italian promenade of waters, found at Bagnaia and the Villa d'Este that led to a grotto where river-gods reclined in rustic niches. And from the garden terrace of the chateau, below the guardian busts of Roman emperors (another detail unlikely to endear itself to Louis XIV), it did indeed appear that the visitor could proceed along another river-road toward the usual rendezvous with the Source, taking in along the way various allegorical

Israel Silvestre, Vaux-IeVicomte, garden view toward the grotto and canal.

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representations of water nymphs and deities. But the waters of Vaux-leVicomte, in contrast to the Italian villa gardens, are still contained within circular or rectangular stone basins. Instead of behaving with the kind of elemental vitality liberated by Buontalenti or Bernini, the waters behave themselves, as decorously as a Cartesian proposition, an Alexandrine couplet, or a courtier's epigram. They do not initiate anything; they reflect. And what they reflected at Vaux was the controlling intelligence of their witty and elegant setgneur. Even the jokes are different. In the gardens of the Renaissance Italian villas the unsuspecting visitor, rounding a corner and confronted with another eccentrically wrought statue or gaping cave, might without warning trigger a jet that would soak him to the skin. General mirth. Not for the likes ofFouquet, for whom water was the material of intelligent wit-esprit-;10t coarse ebullience. So that approaching the arched grotto at Vaux, the visitor would suddenly discover that the path was interrupted by a rectangular basin of water, invisible at eye level, which inevitably framed another reflection of the chateau. And on the very threshold of the grotto, the ground suddenly and unpredictably drops away to a gentle cascade feeding a broad canal. Short of being rowed across, the only way to reach the destination was to walk round its entire sycamore-ringed perimeter. And the reward for all this perseverance was to climb the balustraded stairs over the grotto to a raised terrace. Behind was a copy of the Farnese Hercules proclaiming the power that had been exercised on nature to produce grace. And before the inspecting gaze were the elegant pavilions ofVaux, extended ninety degrees into the gardens through the careful, patterned composition of the low-clipped boxwood broderies, the colored gravel walks, and the pools, all harmonizing in discreet selfcongratulation. Le roi ne s'amuse point. Within three weeks of the jete at Vaux-le Vicomte, Louis' sour grapes had turned lethal. Fouquet was arrested for treasonable pec ulation. Though the charge that he had arrived in office poor and had enriched himself at the king's expense was precisely the opposite of the truth, the court was expected to return the required conviction and sentence. Yet the judges were sufficiently ashamed of themselves to recommend banishment rather than the death sentence desired by Colbert and the king. Stung by their insubordi nation, Louis ordered a living death: incarceration at his own pleasure. Fouquet spent the rest of his life immured in the terrible Haute-Savoie fortress of Pignerol. But it was not merely the temerity of his perfect taste that had brought about his downfall. In its calculated manipulations of scale, distance, and optical angle, Vaux was the triumphant proclamation of mechanics over nature. And as all the historians of the seventeenth-century garden have noted, the arts that were put to work in order to create a place like Vaux were essentially mil-

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itary. The same mathematics that was needed in the perfection of siege artillery and fortifications was applied to the exact construction of space within a garden.42 Moreover, Etienne Binet, writing in 1629, explicitly compared the creator of such gardens to a "little god.,,43 But it was only absolutist monarchs in the Baroque who were supposed to describe themselves as earthly deities. So it may have been for his usurpation of the roles of both landscape marshal and hydraulic muse that Fouquet paid such a heavy price. The end of Fouquet was, famously, the beginning of Versailles. Egged on by Colbert, the king stripped Vaux of all its treasures, or at least all of those that could be moved. It was, at least, a backhanded compliment to Fouquet's extraordinary discrimination and generosity as a Maecenas of the arts. For along with the great collection of paintings, the bronzes, the tapestries, and the furniture went the personnel-the architect (Le Vau), painter (Le Brun) and gardener (Le Notre), not to mention pastry cooks, ballet masters, musicians, playwrights (Moliere), poets, and, not least, the hydraulic engineers, the freres Francini, who had created the great water grilles, reflecting basins, and fountains ofVaux. The only servants of the arts not to desert their master were the sculptor Puget (who spent the rest of his life in the naval dockyards of Toulon) and La Fontaine, who not only made no secret of his contempt for the judicial farce but published a Dream ofthe Waters ofVaux in which the fountains, bereft of their water, weep to make good the loss. The Vaux make-over transformed a nondescript little hunting lodge at Versailles into the nonpareil of all royal residences. But, to their credit, neither the king nor his trio of builders were satisfied with mere transposition. And given the king's absolutist temperament, the element of caprice, so strongly felt at Vaux, was made strictly subject to the prospects of grandeur. Even before the first chateau was built by Louis Le Vau, the park was made the setting for entertainments that catered to the king's hunger for self-aggrandizement. Whether they were ostensibly performed in honor of military victories, the king's latest mistress, or both, they used bodies of water as theatrical platforms on which spectacles that flattered his omnipotence could be performed. Both in 1664 and 1668, fire and water were incorporated, as they usually were, into the divertissements that stretched over several days and in which the king often took part. In the 1664fCte of the "Pleasures of the Enchanted Island," for example, he took the leading role of the knight Roger, who destroys a witch guarding a magic isle, the moment of victory being celebrated in an immense detonation of fireworks over a reflecting pool so that Louis could appear as a Lord of Creation, the arbiter of fire and water, a new Osiris or, rather, the Gallic Apollo. From the outset, the myth of Apollo, as well as the absolutist gaze, determined much of the design of the park and its waters. Where the axis of the attie at Vaux connected the stone Caesars with the river-gods reclining in the grotto,

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at Versailles the line of inspection was moved east-west, in keeping with the progress of the sun. From the uppermost terrace of the garden side of the palace Louis could look down a flight of stone steps at a fountain group that bore immediate witness to the divinely royal power over the waters. Drawn from the sixth book of Ovid's Metamorphoses, it related the myth of Latona, daughter of the Titan Coeus, hounded by Juno for the usual misdemeanors with Jupiter. She is shown with her children, Diana and Apollo, appealing to the hostile peasants of Lycia to be allowed to drink from a local pond. Not only were the peasants unmoved and added curses and threats to their churlishness, but, Ovid tells us, they stirred up mud and dirt from the depths to make the waters foul and unappetizing. And it is at the point where the Titan's daughter has had enough that the fountain offers its metamorphosis, with the peasants suddenly turning into frogs, some still with human torsoes beneath their abruptly bulging eyes and webbed limbs. What is, in any case, an unparalleled moment in amphibian myth was, for Louis XIV, also history: history political and history familiar. For the fountain alluded to the eviction of Anne of Austria and her two children, Louis and Philippe, at the time of the uprising of the Parisian Fronde. And whether or not the king actually disliked the capital as much as conventional histories claim, there is no doubt that the sovereign position of the fountain of Latona, directly beneath the chateau and pointing down the grande aliee, was a royal retort, a proclamation of the realm's metamorphosis from anarchy to order.44 At the end of the allee is the equally extraordinary fountain of Apollo, where the gilded sun-god can be seen rising from the waters at the beginning of the day. Thus the two fountain groups-Latona and Apollo-were in poetic and historical correspondence with each other, adversity and ascendancy; back and forth down the line of light and water. The visitor alert to all these meanings might then retrace his steps up the paths and steps to the north end ofLe Vau's chateau, where he would find the grotto of Thetis. Inside, Girardon's sculptures showed Louis-Apollo flanked by his steeds, being refreshed by the nymphs of the ocean at the end of another hard day's celestial charioteering. And it is inconceivable that Louis (who was pedantically learned in anything that flattered his divinity) was not aware that Thetis herself was the mother of great Achilles, so that the king could now add that hero's attributes to his gloire (always excepting, of course, the fatally undipped heel). Though the interior walls of the grotto were covered with the usual materials of mother-of-pearl and polished pebbles, from the outside the triplearched building, with its grilles bearing the emblem of the sun, hardly resembled a rustic grotto at all. And siting it close to the palace reversed the conventions of the rustic Italian caves. Instead of making the pilgrimage away from civility and through the sacra bosco, the "holy wood," to the Source and

Versailles, fountain of Latona (Gaspar and Balthasar Marsy), engraving by Pierre Ie Pautre, 1678.

Spring, the Versailles courtier was obliged to approach the royal presence to share in its wisdom and mystery. And as the chateau expanded along with the park, so the grotto seems to have become considered a charming anachronism, even before it was finally demolished in 1681 to make way for Mansart's endlessly elongated northern wing. Everything now seemed to proceed along the imperious direction given from the palace. The figure of Latona was herself turned a hundred and eighty degrees so that instead of looking imploringly up at the sovereign, she now joined him, like a staff officer with the general-in-chief, in staring down the line of command. In fact the sloping lawn of the tapis vert controlling the prospect down to the fountain of Apollo seems for all the world like a grassy extension

Versailles, engraving of the interior of the grotto of Thetis, ca. 1668.

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of the parade ground in front of the palace, a manicured muster-yard on which the king could inspect the obedient platoons of his court. And though all these visual commands were signalled by the lines of trees, hedges, and sanded paths that tracked through the park, they were also punctuated by pools of water and (by the 1680s) a set of allegorical bronzes representing the rivers of France. Rather than preserve the drowsy serenity ofVaux, the Francini brothers had created the astonishing spectacle of the grandes eaux, fed by an enormous hydraulic-pressure machine at Marly and a sharp diversion of the river Eure. It was surely revealing that while the careless Fouquet had chosen the device of the squirrel along with the tactlessly worded

Jean- Baptiste Tuby, basin and fountain of Apollo.

motto Quo Non Ascendet (To what heights may one not climb?) to suggest his own ascent, Louis XIV chose the fountain as an emblem of eminence. In a tapestry designed by Charles Le Brun and representing the element of water, the fountain shooting "as high as its source" is meant to signify the king's equality, through virtue and power, with his most illustrious ancestors, Charlemagne and St. Louis. 45 Fountains like the Dragon (representing another royal victory over the hideous forces offaction and disorder), and set on north-south transverse paths leading off from the main axis, were but interludes on the march toward Apollo. But by 1682, when Louis officially transferred his residence from Paris

to Versailles, it was possible to see beyond Apollo to a further body of water that extended the sight line to the point where it seemed to vanish in the dissolving boundary between earth and sky, mortality and immortality. At right angles lay another of Le Notre's great canals, six years in the making, much wider and longer of course than its equivalent at Vaux and actually carrying some traffic. Plying their way up and down the water, as if regulated by some omniscient mercantilist majordomo, were versions of the nautical and fluvial craft of the world: ornately worked Venetian gondolas that had been hauled over the Alps so that they could be launched in the Sun King's play-pond; Dutch fly boats and English frigates scaled down in size; French men-of-war, Colbertian prototypes that shot noisy broadsides off at their make-believe foes. There was a wealth of commercial, as well as military, associations afloat on the grand canal of Versailles. At the same time that the great pile of the palace was growing, royal engineers were cutting their way through ranges of hills to create a spectacular network of royal canals in the Midi and in Burgundy. Their purpose, of course, was to provide the infrastructure necessary for the kind of commercial revolution that Colbert had envisioned as necessary if absolutist France was to prevail over the greatest canal power of the world : the Dutch republic. But the canal, along with the new generation of aqueducts, like the aqueduct of Maintenton, was the perfect expression of absolutist control over the waters: linear, obedient, and free from the unpredictable ebbs and flows of both history and geography. It was a true highway even if, in the end, it went (like absolutist France) nowhere. In reality, Louis XIV had difficulty in establishing the unchallenged supremacy that seemed to have been in his stars on the floating island in the river Bidassoa. But consolation for his frustrations was always available in the Hall of Mirrors. On the ceiling Charles Le Brun had provided the king with the most flattering representation of fluvial mastery: the armored Apollo hurling his chariot across the Rhine (represented by the usual bearded deity, though looking more dejected than usual) while the awestruck Dutch bore impotent witness to his triumphant passage. A few strides to the window would then take the king to his absolutist line of power: directly down the grande allee, through a perfectly articulated ensemble of water, light, and vegetation, toward the authentic Ludovician destination: infinity. Oddly enough, though, it was left to the Sun King's great-grandson Charles to accomplish the most complete realization of the river-road as a linear myth of authority. And even odder, it was in the chaotic, impoverished Kingdom of Naples that it would be constructed. At least part of the dynastic future anticipated by Louis and feared by Philip IV on the Bidassoa had indeed come to pass upon the extinction of the Habsburg line in Spain with the tragic and demented Charles II. His successor had been Louis XIV's grandson Philip V, and thirty years of bitter war between the Bourbons and the Habs-

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burgs (supported by their British and Dutch allies) had failed to dislodge him. In Italy itself a nervous equilibrium was established between Habsburgs and Bourbons and in 1734, after one of the campaigns that periodically broke the stalemate, Philip V's son Charles was enthroned as the king of Naples. As George Hersey has argued in a brilliant monograph,46 the creation of a new palace at Caserta, north of Naples, was meant to stamp the new monarchy with unquestionable legitimacy, not least by appropriating land from the local nobility that was most hostile to Charles's accession. Fresh water was in desperately short supply for the chronically wretched metropolis of three hundred thousand souls. But, as Hersey points out, it was also an obsession of local lore and myth, not least for the royal historiographer and sociologist of myth Giambattista Vico. Naples, of course, had its own version of a fluvial myth of origins: the union between the Siren Parthenope, daughter of the Muse Calliope, and the river Sebeto. And it also had a long tradition that imagined the waters coursing through a labyrinth of subterranean reservoirs and passages, perhaps forced with the infernal fire that from time to time erupted from Vesuvius. It was an inspired decision, then, to make the approach to the new palace run along a long, canal-like river-road, punctuated with sculpture groups and

Caserta, cascade and fountain of Venus and Adonis, Gaetano Salomone and Luigi Vanvitelli .

fountains that commented on the royal power over the elements. And the benevolence of that power was supposed to be exemplified by continuing the aqueduct that brought water to Caserta past the palace, on into the town, and all the way along the ancient line described by the Via Appia to Naples itself. That, at any rate, was the original plan of its architect Luigi Vanvitelli and it certainly corresponded with the amiable paternalism of the king, one of the brighter and more conscientious members of a dynasty whose supply of both qualities was becoming dangerously depleted. Originally, the layout of the garden approach to the palace emulated (as did so many others of this period) the dominating chateau of Versailles. But as his plans developed, Vanvitelli seems to have chafed under the yoke of that obligatory paradigm; he complained in his plans of "Versaglia" and returned instead to the older river-roads of the Italian villas for inspiration. But instead of a water-journey to the Source, he reversed the direction of the flow, moving from a mountain spring to the great controlling block of the palace. Deploying an army oflaborers and engineering techniques worthy of the Romans (whom he evidently admired), Vanvitelli cut a cleft in the hillside facing Caserta from which poured a cascade, as if in literal demonstration of the copious literature on the origin of rivers. From there it flowed along a twomile stretch of canal toward a series of fountain groups, each of which suggested the relationship between water and the power over life and death. Their order, as Hersey has convincingly shown, was not at all random. The first fountain, heavily rusticated, illustrated the chapter of savagery when the naked Diana has Actaeon turned into a stag and torn to pieces by his own hounds as the price of seeing her bathing naked. The stream then dips below ground to re-emerge as the more harmoniously coupled Venus and Adonis, another hunting scene doomed to end badly at the waterside, but which presented a spectacle of love rather than chastisement. As one moves closer to the palace, the language of myth becomes more orderly and benevolent, with a statue of the goddess of agrarian abundance, Ceres, raised on a pedestal. A vast group, fifty-four figures in all, representing Juno ordering Aeolus to make the winds blow Aeneas toward Magna Graecia, was supposed to have decorated the great waterfall that pours over an arched structure, at once an aquatic palace and aqueduct. The statuary remained incomplete when Charles was called to Madrid to succeed his helplessly melancholic brother, but the palace of Aeolus, with waters literally running through tunnels behind the cascade, was evidently meant as a kind of anticipation of the royal residence itself. For all the density and calculation of its water allegories, there is one startling fact about Caserta that instantly distinguishes it from Versailles. Its monarch never spent a single night under its roof, never went to sleep to the

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sound of its water music, nor was wakened by the distant rumble of the rocky cascade. And for once it is to the king's credit that he was, unlike Louis, an absentee megalomaniac. For even while this phenomenal architectural compliment to his omnipotence as the lord of the waters was under construction, Charles was doing his best to fulfil the hopes invested in him in more quotidian ways: building roads, hospitals, granaries; founding academies (always those!); adding to the city's meager supply of public fountains while repairing those that had become polluted or unusable. He was simply doing what enlightened despots were supposed to do: feed the poor, disabuse the ignorant, palliate injustice, silence the disaffected. It was not enough, of course, especially in the boiling sewer of Naples. For all the fixation with supplies of fresh water, dysenteric fevers still took the biggest trawl of the dead in the city. Four years after the king's departure to Spain (where he came to enjoy a further reputation as about the best enlightened despotism could offer), a revolt of hellish proportions exploded in the filthy and ravenous alleys of Naples. What the rioters wanted was bread, wine, and blood, in that order. And as the lazzaroni were energetically sacking the city, the waters of Caserta continued to roll down from the mountain, past Diana, past Venus, past Ceres, toward the immovable, imperturbable palace.

however grandly conceived, would not alone safeguard the royal line of power. Besides measuring his authority by the height of les grandes eaux, the monarch also had a duty to slake his subjects' thirst. Even the mother of Apollo knew something about this, for Ovid has Latona make a speech to the peasants declaring water "the pleasure of everyone to drink ... . Nature has not/Made sun and air and vivacious gifts ofwaterjFor a few alone. ,,47 And in the center of Paris, on the very site that was often known as the "heart" and center of circulation of the whole city, the Pont Neuf, stood a contraption that symbolized the royal obligations of charitable refreshment: the Samaritaine. Does the department store that has inherited its name, and its site, sell bottled water? (That too was on offer in old regime Paris, the best coming from Bohemia; the worst, Seine water spuriously purified and sold as an elixir by enterprising charlatans.)48 But even if the products of the sources of France are on its shelves, it seems unlikely that the customers who pour through its doors give much thought to the woman who gave Christ water from the Samarian well. But it was she who gave her name to the most famous pumping mill in seventeenth-century Paris and she who featured in a lead relief-sculpture set into the side of a wooden building housing the machine. The Samaritaine was the protegee of a German-born Flemish engineer named Lintlaer who, in 1600, offered to providefIenri IV's palace of the Louvre, and the town houses of the
ORNAMENTAL FOUNTAINS,

PARIS,
CAPITAL OF MODERNITY

DAVID HARVEY

ROUTLEDGE NEW YORK AND LONDON

CHAPTER FOUR

THE ORGANIZATION OF SPACE RELATIONS

The more production comes to rest on exchange value, hence on exchange, the more important do the physical conditions ofexchange-the means ofcommunication and transport-become for the costs ofcirculation. ... While capital must on one side strive to tear down every spatial barrier. ... and conquer the whole earth for its market, it strives on the other side to annihilate this space with time.
o

-MARX

. The integration of the national space of France had long been on the agenda. But by 1850, "the implantation of the structures and methods of modern large scale capitalism rendered the conquest and rational organization of space, its better adaptation to new needs, imperative."l The amelioration of the interior space of Paris had, as we have seen (chapter 2), been sporadically debated and partially acted upon throughout the July t Monarchy. By 1850, it had become imperative. Louis Napoleon was prepared to act on both counts. As early as December 1850, he spoke directly of the need to make every effort to embellish the city and ameliorate the living conditions of its inhabitants. We will, he said, "open new roads, open up popular quarters which lack air and light so that sunlight may penetrate everywhere among the walls of the city just as the light of truth illuminates our hearts." On October 9,1852, he signaled the forthcoming declaration of an Empire dedicated to peaceful works. "We have," he declared, "immense uncultivated lands to clear, roads to open, harbors to excavate, rivers to make navigable, canals to finish, our railway network to complete."2 The echoes of Saint-Simonian doctrine were unmistakable. On June 23,1853, Haussmann took office as Prefect of the Department of the Seine with a mandate to remake the city according to plan.

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THE ORGANIZATION OF SPACE RELATIONS

TABLE 2

Internal Transport by Mode and Volume, 1852-1869

Commodities (thousands ofkmltons) Canal & Navigable Coatal Waterway Shipping

Passengers (thousands ofpassenger kms)

Year

Road

Rail

Total

Road

Rail

Total

1852 1869

2.6 2.8

1.7 2.1

1.3 0.8

0.6 6.2

6.2 11.8

1.36 1.46

0.99 4.10

2.35 5.56

Source: Plessis (1973), 116.

FIGURE 34As Daumier represents matters, the railroads contributed to the sense of chaotic rush and confusion in the city at the same time they integrated the countryside around Paris into the urban network. But timing was everything!

Power was now highly concentrated at the very moment when there was a nascent social and political system bursting to undertake the work and turn long-held hopes and visions into living reality. The surpluses of capital and labor power, so crushingly evident in 1848, were to be absorbed through a program of massive long-term investment in the built environment th~t focused on the amelioration of space relations. Within a year of the decl:,lfation of Empire, more than a thousand were at work on the construction site of the Tuileries; untold thousands were back at work building the railroads; and the mines and forget, desolate as late as 1851, wen? racing to meet the burgeoning demand. What was perhaps the first great crisis of capitalism was overcome, it seemed, through the longterm application of surpluses of capital and labor to the reorganization of the transport and communications system. The achievements appeared remarkable, and the effects even more so. The railway network expanded from a few strands here and there (1931 kilometers, to be exact) in 1850 to an intricate web of some 17,400 kilometers in 1870 (figure 35). The volume of .traffic expanded twice as fast as industrial output at the same time as it shifted to the rail "system and away from other modes of transport (table 2). Although the imperial roads languished, the feeder roads to the rail system were increasingly used and improved. The telegraph system went from nothing in 1856 to 23,000 kilometers ten years later when it could be used not only for governmental purposes. "The supreme glory of Napoleon III," wrote Baudelaire, "will have been to prove that anybody can govern a great nation as soon as they have got control of the telegraph and the national press."3 But the telegraph also facilitated the coordination of markets and financial decisions. Prices of commodities in Paris, Lyon, Marseille, and Bordeaux were instantly available, and shortly thereafter the same information could be had for London, Berlin, Madrid, and Vienna. Only with respect to ports and maritime trade did the emperor not live up to his promises, but this was more than offset by the surge of surplus French capital abroad. About a third of the
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THE ORGANIZATION OF SPACE RELATIONS

FW U RE 313

disposable capital went to open up space in other lands: French-financed railroads and telegraph systems spread their tentacles down into the Iberian and Italian peninsulas and across central Europe into Russia and the Ottoman Empire. French finance built the Suez Canal, opened in 1869. The transport and communications system that was to be the foundation of a new world market and a new international division of labor was broadly laid out between 1850 and 1870. Whether or not all this would have happened, no matter what the regime, is debatable. This was, after all, the era of massive investment in transport and communications throughout the whole of what was then the advanced capitalist world, and France's performance, following the initial burst of energy after 1852, barely kept pace with, and in some cases lagged behind, that of the other major powers. In a few instances, such as the Suez Canal, France could reasonably claim that its guiding vision and material help were essential to the projects' completion. And there is general agreement that the particular mix of financial reforms and governmental policies, largely derived from the Saint-Simonian orientation of the Emperor and some of his close advisers (with Persigny at the Ministry of Finance in the lead), had a great deal to do with the spectacular boom of the period immediately after 1852. That there were limits to such a process of absorbing surpluses of capital and labor soon became apparent. The problem, of course, was that "productive" employment under capitalism has always meant profitable employment. Once the choicer and more The changing rail network in France: (a) 1850, lucrative segments of the railroad network were (b) 1860, (c) 1870, (d) 1890. completed by 1855, followed by Haussmann's first network of roads in 1856, the state had to find increasingly sophisticated ways to keep the work in progress. And by the mid-1860s, the whole process ran up against the realities of capitalist finance. For this was, make no mistake, a project undertaken not simply at the behest of an all-powerful Emperor and his key advisers (including Haussmann) but organized through and for the association of capitals. As such, it was subject to the powerful but contradictory logic of profit-taking through capital accumulation. For example, the decision to put Paris at the hub of the new rail network, ostensibly for political and strategic reasons, made perfect economic sense to the degree that Paris was both the principal market and the principal manufacturing center in the nation. Agglomeration economies naturally drew new transport investments and new forms of

economic activity toward Paris because this was where the rail links were most profitable. The effect was to open up Parisian industry and commerce to interregional and international competition. But they in turn also gained easier access to export markets. The position of Parisian industry and commerce therefore changed appreciably in relation to a shifting international division of labor. The costs of assembly of raw materials in Paris declined (the price of coal in Paris fell while the pithead price in Pas-de-Calais was rising); the effect was to make many of the inputs upon which Parisian industry relied correspondingly cheaper. The increased regularity, volume, and speed of flow of goods into the factories and out into the city markets reduced the turnover time of capital and opened up the possibility for big business operations in both production and distribution. The revolution in retailing-the rise of the big department stores pioneered in the 1840s-and the shifting power relations between merchants and producers was in part a product of the new space relations. S The Parisian food market was likewise relieved of close dependency upon local and often hazardous supplies, and increasingly drew upon provincial and foreign sources, provoking "a veritable revolution in consumption."6 The vegetable gardens, orchards, and animal husbandry that had once flourished in the city had largely disappeared by 1870.7 The bourgeoisie could then look forward to fresh vegetables from Algeria and the Midi, and the poor could supplement their diets with potatoes from the west and turnips from the east. And it was not only goods that moved. Tourists flooded in from all over the world (adding to the effective demand), shoppers poured in from the suburbs, and the Parisian labor market spread its tentacles into ever remoter regions in order to satisfy a burgeoning demand for labor power. . The transformation of external spaEe relations put intense pressure on the thrust to rationalize the interior space of Paris itsel Haussmann's exploits in this regard have, of . course, become one of the great legends of modernist urban planning. 8 Backed by the Emperor and armed with the means to absorb surpluses of capital and labor in a vast program of public works, he devised a coherent plan to reorganize the spatial frame of social and economic life in the capital. The investments covered not only a new network of roads but also sewers, parks, monuments and symbolic spaces, schools, churches, admin istrative buildings, housing, hotels, commercial premises, and the like. .' The conception of urban space that Haussmann deployed was undoubtedly new. Instead of "collections of partial plans of public thoroughfares considered without ties or connections," Haussmann sought a "general plan which was nevertheless detailed enough to properly coordinate diverse local circumstances."9 Urban space was seen and treated as a totality in which different quarters of the city and different functions were brought into relation to each other to form a working whole. This abiding concern for the totality of the urban space led to Haussmann's fierce struggle, by no means fully supported by the Emperor, to annex the suburbs where unruly development threatened the rational evolution of a spatial order within the metropolitan region. He finally succeeded in 1860. Within this new and larger space he created a sophisticated hierarchical form of territorial administration-with himself, naturally, positioned at the top-through which
III

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PARIS, CAPITAL OF MODERNITY

THE ORGANIZATION OF SPACE RELATIONS

Haussmann's "Three Routes"


Existing before 1853 First System _ _ __ Second System " .. . " Third System

FIGURE 36

Haussmann's new boulevards at the different phases of construction.

the complex totality of Paris could be better controlled by an organized decentralization and delegation of power and responsibility to the twenty arrondissements. He built a mairie (city hall) in each to symbolize such an administrative presence to the populace. And he fought throughout, in the end not so successfully, to counter the privatism and parochialism of individual and local interests through legislation and rhetoric focused on the public interest for a rational and orderly evolution of space relations in the city. Haussmann's passion for exact spatial coordination was symbolized by the triangulation that produced the first accurate cadastral and topographical map of the city in 1853. And there is no question that it was Haussmann, and not the Emperor, who imposed the logic of the straight line, who insisted upon the symmetry, who saw the logic of the whole, and who set the tone for both the scale and style as well as the details of spatial design. But it was the largeness of scale and the comprehensiveness of plan and conception that were to assure Haussmann's place as one of the founding figures of modernist urban planning. "Make no little plans," urged Daniel Burnham many years later, and this was certainly Haussmann's way. But whatever else he and the Emperor may have had in mind-the creation of a Western capital to rival imperial Rome and celebrate a new form of Empire, the expulsion of "dangerous classes" and insalubrious housing and industry from the city centerone of the clearest effects of their efforts was to improve the capacity for the circulation of goods and people within the city's confines. The flows between the newly established rail stations, between center and periphery, between Left Bank and Right Bank, into and

out of central markets like Les Halles, to and from places of recreation (Bois de Boulogne by day, the grand boulevards by night), between industry and commerce (to the new department stores) were all facilitated by the construction of some ninety miles of spacious boulevards that reduced the cost, time, and (usually) aggravation of movement remarkably. Along with the Pereire brothers, Haussmann engineered the consolidation by merger of all the omnibus companies in 1855 into one private monopoly-the Compagnie des Omnibus de Paris-thereby increasing the number of passengers moved from 36 million in 1855 to 110 million by 1860. The new road system had the added advantage that it neatly surrounded some of the traditional hearths of revolutionary ferment and would permit the free circulation of forces of order if needed. It also contributed to the free circulation of air into insalubrious neighborhoods, while the free play of sunlight by day and of newly installed gas lighting by night underscored the transition to a more extroverted form of urbanism in which the public life of the boulevard became a highlight of what the city was about. And, in an extraordinary engineering achievement, a marvel to this day, the flows of water and sewage were revolutionized. It was ruthlessly done and took time, money, technical skill, and Haussmann's incredible drive and administrative ability to do it. No one can doubt Haussmann's passionate and long-standing committment to improving the means of transport. Had he not, after all, in his very first appointment as subprefect of the remote rural commune of Nerac in 1832, bypassed the authority of the prefect and resorted to creative financing of dubious legality to leave the commune, some five years later, with several kilometers of paved local roads, new bridges, and a properly surfaced highway connecting to the main i town? Yet the dramatic transformation of the interior space of Paris was by no means all due to Haussmann. The realignment of traffic movement from the principal axis of the Seine to multiple railheads, long debated during the July Monarchy (see figure 25), was less a consequence than a compelling condition for that work. Haussmann immediately recognized that it was a "necessity of the first order" to put the rail stations, now the principal points of entry into Paris, "into a direct relation with the heart of the city by way of .large thoroughfares."l0 The Petite Ceinture railroad, which ringed Paris and gave such ..'dynamism to suburban growth, also owed little to Haussmann. And, as we shall see, there were all manner of shifts in the operation ofland and property markets, in industriallocation and labor processes, in marketing and distribution systems, in population distribution and family formation, to which Haussmann was adjusting rather than leading. The reshaping of the interior space of Paris was, therefore, a response to processes already in motion. But it also became a spatial framework around which those very same processes-of industrial and commercial development, of housing investment and residential segregation, and so on-could cluster and play out their own trajectories, and thus define the new historical geography of the city's evolution. To his credit, Haussmann well understood his limited role. For though he had authoritarian powers and frequent delusions of grandeur, he also recognized that he had
Q

112

113

PARIS, CAPITAL OF MODERNITY

THE ORGANIZATION OF

Sp AGE RELATIONS

to liberate more than just the flows of goods and people from their medieval constraints if Paris was to be transformed. The force he had to mobilize-and it was in the end the force that mastered him-was the circulation of capital. But this, too, was a compelling condition present at the very birth of Empire. The surpluses of capital and labor power absolutely had to be absorbed if the Empire was to survive. The absorption of such surpluses via the public works that so transformed the interior space of Paris entailed the free circulation of capital through the construction of a particular spatial configuration of the built environment. Freed from its feudal straitjacket, capital reorganized the interior space of Paris according to principles that were uniquely its own. Haussmann wanted to make Paris a modern capital worthy of France, if not of Western civilization. In the end he simply helped make it a city in which the circulation of capital became the real imperial power. The new space relations had powerful effects on Parisian economy, politics, and culture, and the effects on the sensibilities of Parisians were legion. It was as if they were instantly plunged into a bewildering world of speedup and rapid compression of space relations. The Second Empire experienced a fierce bout of space-time compression, and the contradictory effects of this (particularly with respect to space and place) were everywhere in evidence. The orientation of the new transport investments reemphasized, for example, the tendency toward centralization of administration, finance, economy, and population in Paris. It re-posed the thorny issue of the proper balance between geographical centralization and decentralization of political power within the nation, and it did it in such a way as to make the role of the commune in the construction of citizenship and political identities a vigorous topic of debate. 11 Centralization was seen as a virtue by many. "Paris is centralization itself," proclaimed the Emperor with pride; "it is the head and heart of France," elaborated HaussmannY But this challenged the viability and meaning of local community even within Paris itself; political interests seemed to have less and less clear-cut geographical boundaries, and political identities based on territory had more and more to be asserted rather than just lived. The problem of scale was not an issue only for Haussmann, the financiers and the bourgeoisie. The new internationalism of the workers' movement sat uneasily with that desire and struggle for local autonomy which had so animated workers during the 1840s and which later on was to give the Paris Commune (with its absolute insistence on the right to local self-governance) so much of its specific political coloration. The coming unification of the world through monetization and commodity exchange was likewise celebrated in the Universal Expositions held in Paris in 1855 and 1867. In both cases the focus was not only on technological progress but also on the new world of spatial interconnections facilitated by modern networks of communication and materialized through commodity exchange. Hugo, in his essay in the Paris Guide of 1867, largely written for the Universal Exposition of that year, produced a simplistic panegyric to a unified Europe (of the sort that Saint-Simon had articulated in the 1820s), one free of national boundaries and expressive of a common culture, at the very moment when geopolitical tensions
114

were on the rise and three years before the Franco-Prussian War wracked European unity and brought an end to Empire. The phantasmagoria of universal capitalist culture and its space relations incorporated in the Universal Exposition blinded even him to the significance and power of loyalties to and identifications with place. And, as so often happens with improvements in transport and communications, the effect was not so much to relieve congestion as to re-create it at a different speed and scale. The threefold increase in the number of omnibus passengers carried between 1855 and 1860 tells much of the story. Many ofDaumier's cartoons drawn in response the new forms of transport emphasize the rush and speedup on the railroads, in the stations, and along the boulevards; the intense pressure of overcrowding; and a shifting balance between private intimacies and public presences (see figures 19,34,37, and 38). Segregation by classes in the railway carriages and by "on top or inside" in the omnibuses allowed some separation, but it was hard to maintain any sense of privacy or intimacy in crowded railway carriages, no matter what the class of compartment. The railways revolutionized not only the materialities of space relations but also social relations, intimacies, and sensibilities.13 The incorporation of the suburbs and the remoter rural fringes into the maelstrom of Parisian life also meant that there was no place to hide from the process of urbanization, while thfb compulsion of the middle and affluent classes to seek leisure and pleasure in the now more easily accessible countryside was soon to become one of the great subjects of impressionist painting. Speedup also expanded the spaces within which people, F,G U RE :37 The increase in omnibus traffic along the commodities, and ideas could move. This ffi:ade it imperative boulevards did not diminish overcrowding and the to rethink and reengineer the urban process at a quite differinconvenience of travel within the city, at least accordent scale. Not only did Haussmann and his aides have to ing to this rendition by Daumier fro m 1856. : adapt (and there is no question that in this they led the way). The financiers, commercial interests, and industrialists also had to adapt their thinking and find organizational means to work at grander geographical scales. Haussmann's drive to annex the suburbs into his urban administration was symbolic of this shifting scale. Urbanists like Perreymond and Meynadier had, of course, pioneered this way of thinking in the 1840s, and had simultaneously managed to adapt a tradition of rationalizing urban space that went back at least to Voltaire and Diderot, to Paris's chaotic and ever accelerating urban growth. Balzac, recall, had also set out to see the city as a whole, and in his celebrated ending to Old Goriot has Rastignac prepare to seize the city for himself as he contemplates it from the heights of Pere Lachaise Cemetary. But Rastignac's project is one of personal advancement.
115

PARIS, CAPITAL OF MODERNITY

Zola, many years later, reruns Balzac's scene in La Curie (The Kill). Saccard, the great Second Empire speculator, dines one evening with Angele on the heights of the Butte Montmartre. Looking down on Paris and imagining "it is raining twenty franc pieces" there, he gleefully observes how "more than one district will be melted down, and gold will stick to the fingers of those who heat and stir the mortar." Angele stares "with a vague terror, at the sight of this little man standing erect over the recumbent giant at his feet, and shaking his fist at it while ironically pursing his lips." Saccard describes how Paris has already been cut into four by the Grand Croisee, and will be further slashed by "Navvie cuts" of the second and third networks, "its veins opened, giving sustenance to a hundred thousand navvies and bricklayers." Saccard's "dry nervous hand kept cutting through space," and Angele "shivered slightly before this living knife, those iron fingers mercilessly slicing the boundless mass of dusky roofs ... the smallness of this hand, hovering pitilessly over a gigantic prey, ended by becoming disquieting; and as, without effort, it tore asunder the entrails of the enormous city, it seemed to assume the strange reflex of steel in the blue of the twilight."" Thus does Zola re-create the creative FIGURE 38 Railway travel had dramatic implications for the destruction of Paris as seen from on high and at the manner in which people could experience the public spaces of scale of the city as a whole. But now it is the spectravel. It was particularly difficult to preserve any sense of intiulator who grasps the totality with the ambition to macy, and many Daumier cartoons address that problem. An early carve it up and feed off the entrails. attempt to protect upper-class passengers from contact with the mob by building isolated compartments was quickly abandoned The reshaping of space relations and the transwhen a traveler was found murdered in one. In this cartoon formations in spatial scale that occurred were active Daumier (1864) celebrates third-class travel because, though one rather than passive moments in the urban process. might be asphyxiated, one would never be assassinated. The actual organization of space through transport and communications is a first-order material fact with which all historical and geographical analysis must come to grips. The Second Empire revolution in space relations, both within Paris and beyond, may have had its roots in earlier phases, but there is no question that there was an order of difference between the pace of change, spatial scale, and geographical extension after 1852 compared to that which had prevailed before. How this revolution was accomplished remains to be explored.

CHAPTER FIVE

MONEY, CREDIT, AND FINANCE

The credit system accelerates the material development ofthe productive forces and the establishment of the world market.
-MARX

On the morning of December 2, 1851, Emile Pereire hurried to the house of James Rothschild to reassure the bedridden banker that all had gone smoothly with the coup d'etat. The story of their subsequent break and awesome struggle, which lasted until the Pereire brothers' downfall a year before James died in 1868, is one of the legendary battles of high finance. It became the subject much later of Zola's novel L'Argent (Money).' Behind it lay two quite different conceptions of the role of money and finance in economic development. The haute banque of the Rothschilds was a family affair-private and confidential, working with opulent friends without publicity, and deeply conservative in its approach to money, a conservatism expressed through attachment to gold as the real ; money form, the true measure of value. And that attachment had served Rothschild well. He remained, as a worker publication of 1848 complained, "strong in the face of young republics" and a "power independent of old dynasties." "You are more than a man of state. You are the symbol of credit." The Pereires, for their part, schooled in Saint-Simonian ways of thought from the early 1830s on, tried to change the meaning of that symbol. They had long seen the credit system as the nerve center of economic development and social change. Amid a welter of publicity, they sought to democratize savings by mobilizing them into an elaborate hierarchy of credit institutions capable of undertaking projects of long duration. The "association of capital" was their theme, and grand, unashamed speculation in future development was their practice. The conflict between the Rothschilds and the Pereires was, in the final analysis, a personalized version of a deep
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116

The Paris sewers and the rationalization of urban space


Matthew Gandy
Sewers are perhaps the most enigmatic of urban infrastructures. Most citizens of modern cities are aware of their existence, yet few could accurately describe their layout or appearance. This paper takes as its starting point a key moment in the cultural representation of urban space: the photographs of the Paris sewers taken by Fe lix Nadar in the early 1860s. These images capture a dramatic transformation in subterranean Paris, initiated in the early 1850s by Baron Georges Haussmann and his chief engineer Euge ` ne Belgrand as part of the comprehensive reconstruction of the citys infrastructure during the Second Empire of Napole on III. This paper argues, however, that with respect to the underground city, we cannot consider the Haussmann era to be the unproblematic epitome of modernity. The reconstruction of subterranean Paris revealed a series of tensions that were only to be resolved in the post-Haussmann era in response to the combined inuence of growing water usage, the persistent threat of disease and changing conceptions of public health policy. It is concluded that the ow of water in Second Empire Paris is best conceived as a transitional phase in the radical reworking of relations between the body and urban form engendered by the process of capitalist urbanization. key words sewers water modernity urban planning Fe lix Nadar Baron Georges Haussmann nineteenth-century Paris

Department of Geography, University College London, 26 Bedford Way, London WC1H 0AP email: m.gandy@ucl.ac.uk revised manuscript received 21 July 1998

Introduction
. . . un encheve trement difforme de sentines et boyaux a ` de er limagination de Pirane ` se. (Fe lix Nadar)1 Les grands e gouts de Paris ont toujours pre occupe lattention publique et ont e te honore s des plus illustres visites. Il nest pas un souverain e tranger, pas un personnage important qui ait quitte Paris sans avoir visite les collecteurs. (Euge ` ne Belgrand)2

the evils of long-continued civic neglect were redeemed and Paris placed in the forefront of modern cities by imaginative reforms applied to the most onerous of human problems.3

Edmund Bacon echoed similar sentiments in describing the new spatial structure of Paris as a
reversal in the direction of energy, from the outward explosion of avenues and palaces of the Louis Kings to the implosion of the connecting and life-giving boulevards of Haussmann.4

The rebuilding of Paris between 1850 and 1870 is a crucial moment in urban history. The attempt by Emperor Napole on III and his Pre fet de la Seine, Baron Georges Haussmann, to rationalize urban space is one of the formative legacies in the development of urban planning. For Frederick Hiorns, the Second Empire reconstruction of Paris was a time in which,

For many authors, the Haussmann era has been read as axiomatic of modernity; yet the reality is far more complex, involving an interweaving of ideas and developments spanning both modern and premodern conceptions of urban form.5 In fact, as this paper will show, the ow of water in Paris did not

Trans Inst Br Geogr NS 24 2344 1999 ISSN 0020-2754 Royal Geographical Society (with The Institute of British Geographers) 1999

24

Matthew Gandy

become modern, in the sense that we would now recognize, until after the fall of the Second Empire, with new legislative developments in the 1890s in response to rising water usage and the continuing threat of cholera. One of the least studied of these extensive public works projects is the reconstruction of the Paris sewers.6 This paper describes how the reorganization of subterranean Paris held implications far beyond the modernization of drainage and sanitation. Metaphors of progress and the application of scientic knowledge became entangled with wider cultural and political developments surrounding the transformation of nineteenth-century Paris. Sewers enjoy a special place in the pantheon of urban mythology. They are one of the most intricate and multi-layered symbols and structures underlying the modern metropolis, and form a poignant point of reference for the complex labyrinth of connections that bind urban space into a coherent whole. Sewers have long been used as metaphors for the hidden worlds of crime, poverty and political insurrection, and there is a rich legacy of representations ranging across literature, cinema rables, perhaps the most and music.7 In Les mise famous literary evocation of the underground city, Victor Hugo depicted the Paris sewers of the 1830s as the evil in the citys blood, a place where the poor and the outcasts of society lurked together as a threatening formation for the world above ground.8 This paper develops a rather different perspective from the genre of urban horror, by emphasizing how sewers have also been portrayed as symbols of progress. Sewers are considered in this context as an integral element in the emergence of what the architectural historian Anthony Vidler terms the technical ideology of metropolis.9 Just as sewers are repeatedly associated with dirt, danger and the unseen, they are also physical manifestations of new patterns of water usage, bodily hygiene and the progressive application of new advances in science and technology. Rosalind Williams traces a similar theme through her exploration of the symbolic and metaphorical meanings attached to underground technologies in modern societies. For Williams, the growing scientic and technological sophistication of the built environment necessarily alters our relation with nature and the organic world. She emphasizes the poignancy of the vertical axis to our understanding of the cultural appropriation of urban technologies, since the subterranean environment is not

only a technological construct, but also a mental landscape, a social terrain, and an ideological map.10 The search for spatial order has been an integral element in the contradictory experience of modernity, yet, hidden within the more progressive conceptions of urban transformation lie the ideological trappings of imperial and pre-modern conceptions of social and elemental harmony. This paper argues that the process of Haussmannization was predicated on a holistic conception of the relationship between the body and the city, which drew on a series of organic analogies to compare the new city with a healthy human body:
These underground galleries would be the organs of the metropolis and function like those of the human body without ever seeing the light of day. Pure and fresh water, along with light and heat, would circulate like the diverse uids whose movement and replenishment sustain life itself. These liquids would work unseen and maintain public health without disrupting the smooth running of the city and without spoiling its exterior beauty.11

The material presented here, however, suggests that the circulatory dynamics of economic exchange were to overwhelm organic conceptions of urban order and institute a new set of relationships between nature and urban society. By tracing the history of water in urban space, we can begin to develop a fuller understanding of changing relations between the body and urban form under the impetus of capitalist urbanization. This interdisciplinary task involves exploring changing relationships between the body, architecture and ideological conceptions of nature as part of a broader project to expand our understanding of modern cities and their cultural meaning.12 The paper begins with an examination of the photographs of the newly modernized Paris sewers, taken by Fe lix Nadar in the early 1860s. These images are used to introduce a series of ideas surrounding progress, modernity and the aesthetic representation of the modern city. It is suggested that Nadars photography, and his passionate advocacy of the progressive potential of technological innovation in society, hold important implications for our understanding of the often-contradictory dynamics behind capitalist urbanization. Secondly, the reconstruction of the subterranean city is set in its broader political and historical context, in order to draw out some of the tensions inherent in the drive to modernize urban

The Paris sewers and the rationalization of urban space

25

space. It is argued that these contradictory dimensions to the control of water were only satisfactorily resolved in the post-Haussmann era. Such complexities are traced to the rapid growth of Paris and the growing consumption of water for washing and bathing in private dwellings, which led to a breakdown in pre-modern conceptions of the organic cycle linking the body and the city. The representation of riparian urban leisure in the art of Seurat is used to delineate the emergence of a distinctively metropolitan experience of nature. Finally, the paper considers how the reconstruction of subterranean Paris involved the reworking of corporeal metaphors in the development of aesthetic sensibilities towards urban infrastructure. These changes are related to wider developments in French society, including the sharpening sense of self-identity under modernity in the context of widening social and economic polarities across the city. It is suggested that the sewers form an enduring element of the urban uncanny, through their integral interrelationship with changing conceptions of bodily abjection and urban order.

Photographing the Paris sewers


Among the strangest images we have of nineteenth-century Paris are the underground photographs of Fe lix Nadar (18201910). The photographic legacy of Nadar provides a remarkable record of the complex and often contradictory interweaving of political, technological and scientic developments underlying the rebuilding of Second Empire Paris. Nadar was born GaspardFe lix Tournachon in Paris in 1820, just two years before Nice phore Nie pce (17651833) began the rst experimentation with photography (using a bitumen ground technique on pewter and glass). Following a brief spell as a medical student in the late 1830s, Nadar began to devote increasing energy to literary and political pursuits. In the 1840s, Nadar worked on the republican daily Le Commerce and also as a cartoonist for the satirical journals Le Corsaire-Satan and La Silhouette.13 The political turmoil of 1848, and the subsequent coup that brought Napole on III to power, were to have a decisive impact on Nadar, along with many of his contemporaries. With the utopian and revolutionary Left greatly weakened, there was now a growing divide between the romantic attachment to artisan labour and newer political ideas that

embraced technological change.14 Nadar looked increasingly to a dynamic and progressive combination of science and politics as the most realistic means to transform society. In 1856, for example, he published a collection of stories, Quand je tais e tudiant, dedicated to the socialist writer George Sand. In these stories, he brought together a number of his main concerns: the power of science and medicine to dispel death, disease and ignorance; a sense of society in a state of rapid and chaotic change; and the power of reason to bring about both individual and collective advance on ment.15 Under the repressive regime of Napole III, Nadar turned increasingly to the use of satire and allegory as a vital means of expression under the tight censorship and surveillance of the time. He soon established his reputation as a novelist, journalist and caricaturist, and worked closely with the radical publisher Charles Philipon on his satirical papers La Caricature, Le Charivari and Le Petit Journal pour Rire.16 From the late 1840s onwards, Nadar began to take an increasing interest in photography. In 1854, he set up his own studio under the direction of Adolphe Bertsch and Camille dArnuad. The poor sales of his last major lithographic venture, the Panthe on, must also have encouraged Nadar to focus his energies on the new medium of photography. Nadars reputation for portrait photography developed rapidly, and he was soon able to charge some 100 francs a sitting: Charles Baudelaire, Claude Debussy, Gustave Dore , Hector Berlioz and many other leading cultural and political gures of the time had their portraits taken at his Paris studios.17 Nadar became convinced of the status of photography as a new art form equal to that of painting, which was, moreover, uniquely capable of capturing the ephemeral and fragmentary qualities of modern life. With photography, he was able to convey images with unprecedented speed and accuracy, introducing an extraordinarily intense kind of realism into the aesthetic representation of Paris and its people.18 By the late 1850s, he had begun to gain international critical acclaim for his work, and, in 1858, led a patent for the rst aerial photography based on a series of urban panoramas taken from a hot air balloon.19 In 1861, Nadar sought to expand the medium of photography radically by transcending any reliance on natural light. In order to do this, he began making a series of underground photographs using electric light. The rst outcome of this

26

Matthew Gandy

experimentation was 73 views of the Paris catacombs, taken in 186162. In the winter of 186465, Nadar extended his underground work further by producing 23 photographs of the Paris sewers under the invitation of the citys chief water engineer, Euge ` ne Belgrand (181078), who had been appointed by Haussmann in 1853 to oversee the reconstruction of the citys sewer system. The extension of photography into the underground city not only radically extended the possibilities for the meticulous visual documentation of hitherto unknown places and spaces, but reinforced the ambiguous role of modern technologies in providing an illusion of complete control and comprehension of complex urban societies. In photographing the sewers, Nadar contributed powerfully to new ways of seeing and understanding the city, by challenging a series of metaphorical axes ranging across light, cleanliness, verticality, knowledge and control. When rst shown, these unfamiliar images intrigued and astounded the French public. A completely new and strange world lying beneath the streets of Paris had been revealed: not a threatening and chaotic mass of tunnels, but a clean, well-lit network of structures at the leading edge of engineering science. In Figure 1, we can observe a spacious, symmetrical and well-lit tunnel amenable to easy movement, observation and control. In Figure 2, a mannequin is shown seated next to an example of the new sewer technologies introduced as part of the modernization programme (the lengthy 18-minute exposure time precluded the inclusion of a real worker). Before their improvement, the dominant imagery of the Paris sewers had been of an unexplored urban realm shrouded in darkness and mystery, a threatening maze beneath the streets of the city. Yet, as Maria Hambourg suggests,
in the photographs of the vaulted sewers, which might have conveyed the horrors of Piranesis prisons, one sees rational structure and channelled cleanliness.20

With the introduction of electric light into the sewers, the spectacle of enlightenment now extended both above and below ground,22 as the new boulevards and shopping arcades had their subterranean counterpart beneath the city streets. The transformation of Paris made urban space comprehensible and visible to the public, thereby dispelling much of the opacity and heterogeneity of the pre-modern city. The Paris sewers were rapidly acknowledged to be unequalled in any other city in the world, and attracted a steady stream of international delegations of engineers and urban planners.23 The subterranean photographs of Nadar played a key role in fostering the growing popularity of sewers and catacombs with middle-class Parisians, and, from the 1867 Exposition onwards, the city authorities began offering public tours of underground Paris.24 Yet, as David Pinkney wryly notes, most visitors to the Paris sewers over the years have probably been disappointed to nd,
not the dark and dangerous caverns through which Jean Valjean made his perilous escape in 1832 but the spacious, clean and well-lighted galleries of the Second Empire.25

From city of mud to city of light


In order to understand the signicance of Nadars images, we need to explore the background to the transformation of the Paris sewer system. If, as Raymond Williams has suggested, the modern city becomes the physical embodiment of a decisive modern consciousness, then what do the Paris sewers tell us about changes in nineteenth-century French society?26 The historical context to the reconstruction of Paris is well known. As early as 1827, an official report on the citys health had noted how the sense of smell gives notice that you are approaching the rst city in the world, before your eyes could see the tips of its monuments.27 The population of Paris had increased from 786 000 in 1831 to over 1 000 000 by 1846. Growing congestion threatened to bring social and economic life to a standstill. The devastating cholera epidemics of 183235 and 184849 had spread panic in rich and poor quarters alike. And, by 1848, the Paris economy was also facing a deep downturn, a major factor behind the political turmoil that was to usher in the new regime of Napole on III.28

The sewers were no longer to be feared, but rather venerated and enjoyed as symbols of progress. Victor Hugo, for example, was quick to recognize that his imaginary representation of the 1830s sewers bore little resemblance to the new reality of the 1860s: The sewer today has a certain official aspect, he reected, Words referring to it in administrative language are lofty and dignied . . . Nothing is left of the cloacas primitive ferocity.21

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Figure 1 The sewers Fe lix Nadar (186465)


(Courtesy of the Caisse Nationale des Monuments Historiques et des Sites, Paris)

In June 1853, less than a year after his successful coup de tat, Emperor Napole on III appointed Baron Georges-Euge ` ne Haussmann as Pre fet de la Seine, with responsibility for the reconstruction of Paris. Before his appointment, Haussmann had already acquired extensive public service in Vienne, the Gironde and the Var. More critically, though, he had lent vociferous political support to Napole on III and closely shared his republican ideals, rooted in a powerful role for the French state.29 Since no accurate map of Paris existed, one of Haussmanns rst tasks was to undertake a detailed survey and

triangulation of the whole city. Napole on III envisaged that the new Paris would be an imposing city of marble, worthy of comparison with Augustan Rome, and a lasting symbol of French international power and imperial ambition.30 Haussmann was charged with the responsibility for transforming a congested medieval city into a dynamic modern metropolis. The changing role of Paris within the newly integrated national economy demanded an urgent transformation in the physical structure of the city. Central to the modernization of Paris lay a combination of faith in the application of scientic

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Figure 2 The sewers (sluice system) Fe lix Nadar (186465)


(Courtesy of the Caisse Nationale des Monuments Historiques et des Sites, Paris)

principles with a programme of centrally directed public investment. The underused capital and labour behind the economic depression and political violence of 1848 were to be channelled into the reconstruction of the built environment through a decit-nanced economic strategy, rooted in Saint-Simonian ideas.31 By 1870, Haussmann had carried out some 25 billion francs-worth of public works through innovative debt nancing equivalent to approximately 44 times the total city expenditure on all services in 1851.32 At the time of peak reconstruction, one in

ve Parisian workers were employed in construction activity, and one-fth of the Paris streets were rebuilt.33 The programme of reconstruction required not only nancial innovation but also a radical reorganization in the balance of political and economic forces in the city. Second Empire Paris was to grow out of the articulation of a general interest resting on the imposition of a new form of capitalist rationality, which was alien to the privatism of traditional property owners.34 For Anthony Saalman, the reconstruction of Second Empire Paris was the most inuential

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29

Figure 3 The Paris sewer network in 1837


Source: Belgrand E 1887 Les travaux souterrains de Paris V: les e gouts et les vidanges Dunod, Paris

nineteenth-century solution to the problem of rapid urbanization. The transformation of Paris gave the bourgeois revolution its most radical architectural expression of any European city. The reconstruction reected the needs of an urban mercantile class who faced the consequences of modernity not by an escape into romantic anti-urbanism, but through a celebration of the possibilities for the technological mastery of urban space and the search for progressively greater degrees of social and spatial order.35 Yet, as we shall see, these new discourses of order and control both reected and constituted emerging tensions and inequalities, driven by the processes of capitalist urbanization. When Haussmann and Belgrand began their work in the early 1850s, the city was still served by a medieval network of sewers clustered around the city centre (Figure 3).36 The preliminary investigations of Haussmann and his chief engineer Euge ` ne Belgrand soon revealed a series of design faults in the existing sewer system. The size of the sewers had been determined by the height of a sewerman, and they were inadequate for handling large quantities of water after heavy rain. The layout, elevation and gradient of the sewers were unable to prevent water from periodically ooding onto the

streets, and much of the growing city was not even integrated into the existing drainage system.37 In 1857, the sewer reconstruction programme began in earnest. The rst major project was the construction of the Collecteur Ge ne ral dAsnie ` res, a new elliptical structure approximately 14 feet high and 18 feet wide. The purpose of this complex channel, far bigger then the existing Collecteur de la Rue de Rivoli, was to ensure that waste waters would be diverted into the River Seine downstream of the city.38 Both Haussmann and Belgrand believed that a modern sewer system should, as far as possible, be mechanically cleaned, in order to eliminate the need for dangerous and degrading human labour (the sewers had hitherto been cleaned by hand using the most rudimentary of tools). Their conception of spatial rationalization thus extended to the application of new labour practices, as well as to the use of the latest advances in the engineering and empirical sciences. The most signicant technological achievement of all, however, which effectively completed the major part of the new sewer system, was the construction of a vast siphon under the Seine in 1868, in order to connect the two sections of the Collecteur de la Bie ` vre.39 By 1870, the city was

30

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Figure 4 Paris sewers built between 1856 and 1878


Source: Belgrand Les travaux souterrains de Paris V op cit

served by a network of 348 miles of sewers a virtual fourfold increase on twenty years earlier (Figure 4). But what were these new sewers actually for? When the reconstruction of the sewers began in the 1850s, it was assumed that only limited quantities of human faeces from individual homes would enter the sewer system (only a fth of private dwellings were connected at this time), and that there would be a continuation in the work of night-soil collectors.40 The initial scope of the reconstruction was thus concerned primarily with the drainage of storm waters; however, the steady increase in personal water consumption unsettled this conception of the public works that would be required. Haussmann was reluctant to allow any human faeces to enter the magnicent collecting channels of the new sewer system, and only did so under intense pressure from the citys municipal authorities.41 The desire to separate clean storm water from dirty human waste was integral to Haussmanns conception of an orderly ow of water through urban space. His objections to human excrement entering the sewer system were not only related to the contamination of the underground city; he feared that the dilution of human

waste in water would reduce its value as a fertilizer, and thereby disrupt the organic economy of the city.42 Human faeces, collected as night-soil, had long been used protably in northern France as a fertilizer for agriculture, and in the manufacture of saltpetre for gunpowder, thereby allowing a cyclical integration of bodily functions into the regional economy.43 Haussmann was not alone in his desire to separate the drainage of storm water from the continuing reliance on cesspits for human waste. In the 1850s, opposition to the connection of sewers to individual homes came from various quarters. A vociferous source of hostility were the cesspool cleaning companies, who feared that they would be ruined by alternative means of treating waste water. The city itself also made money out of night-soil collection and the processing operations at Montfaucon and Boncy, and therefore favoured a continuation in existing arrangements.44 The users of night soil in agriculture also drew attention to the declining nitrogen content caused by the greater mixing of faeces with water. Consequently, the lowest-value material was being collected from the richer parts of the city where the use of water closets was gaining popularity. Before the

The Paris sewers and the rationalization of urban space

31

extensive application of decit-nancing for public works, there was also concern as to how the costs of sewer construction would be spread, since only a third of dwellings were directly supplied with running water.45 In the 1860s, an apparent compromise was reached by allowing human faeces to enter parts of the sewer system and diverting this water for agricultural use. The leading city engineer, A A Mille, successfully used sewer water for the irrigation and fertilization of vegetables in the elds of Clichy and Gennevilliers near the citys main sewage outlets. He advocated the use of the same sewers for the handling of storm water and human waste, based on his knowledge of sanitary improvements carried out in England. However, this solution met with official resistance in Paris, where most engineers continued to insist on just two options: either a separate sewer system for human waste or an improvement in night-soil collection.46 In nineteenth-century Amsterdam, for example, the Lieurnur sewer system had been adopted, with separate networks for storm water and human waste, but this was to be rejected in Paris on the grounds of cost.47 Property owners ercely resisted higher taxes for sewer construction, as well as the construction of impermeable cesspools to replace the fosses a ` fond perdu that seeped their contents into the subsoil. Landlords continued to eschew any connection to piped water supplies, despite the free installation of rising mains from 1881, because increased water usage would necessitate the reconstruction and more frequent emptying of cesspools if their properties remained separate from the sewer system. Powerful resistance to draining human waste into the Seine also came from the fanatics of Seine water, who advocated the continuing use of the river for drinking water, along with Pasteur and other inuential microbiologists, who feared the public health effects of contaminating the Seine with cholera and typhoid.48 What was distinctive, however, about the immediate post-Haussmann era was the co-existence of a number of competing conceptions of the most appropriate means to regulate the ow of water in the city. It was not until 1894 that the link between private dwellings and the sewer system was nally made obligatory, as rising water usage (which doubled between 1870 and 1890, despite the recalcitrance of private landlords) and the cholera epidemics of 1884 and 1892 eventually overwhelmed

the traditional reliance on cesspools.49 The fact that tenants themselves were, in increasing numbers, seeking out properties that were connected to the citys water and sewer system must also have increased the pressure to complete the modernization of urban infrastructure.50 Furthermore, technical and scientic opinion was beginning to shift decisively towards the tout a ` le gout solution, in recognition that combined sewers for storm water and human waste were increasingly being adopted by other European cities.51 By the end of the nineteenth century, the dual pressures of disease and growing water usage, along with the advent of inorganic fertilizers and growing public aversion to human waste, eventually overwhelmed the remnants of pre-modern conceptions of urban order and introduced a new set of relationships between water and urban society.52

Water, modernity and the bashful civic body


The eventual cross-connection of Haussmanns storm sewers to accomodate human faeces, the tout a ` le gout solution to public health, reects a complex shift in attitudes towards the use of water. During the medieval and early modern period, there was little use of water in Europe for personal hygiene, and hence little need for sewers to drain water away from private dwellings. In the premodern period, the use of water for washing remained predominantly a collective endeavour, and was often therapeutic or recreational.53 Evidence suggests that group bathing in Europe began to decline from the fteenth century onwards in the wake of the Counter-Reformation and changing moral codes towards public nudity. In the eighteenth century, however, we nd a rediscovery of bathing that undermined existing conceptions of the relationship between water and the body.54 The sensuous ow of water (and even the advocacy of cleanliness in readiness for sexual pleasure) struck at the heart of conicting concerns with moral purity, hygiene and social order. Washing had long been associated with pagan sensuality in early Christian belief, and, for most of the nineteenth century, the bathroom was restricted to the homes of the rich, tourist hotels and luxury brothels. Consequently, the associations of water with opulence, debauchery and pre-revolutionary court society persisted into the modern period.55

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A decisive change occurred with what the cultural historian Alain Corbin terms the olfactory revolution, whereby the bourgeois sense of smell became newly sensitized to body odour, thus leading to an increasing desire for private space. It was not so much that conditions had suddenly changed, but that there was a new intolerance under the sensory realignment of modernity.56 The emergence of new standards of cleanliness brought individuals into contact with their own bodily smells and contributed to the emergence of a new narcissism. By the end of the nineteenth century, there were rmly barred doors to washrooms and bathrooms and an elimination of the old promiscuity in defecation and the jumble of excremental odors.57 As the places for washing and defecation became separated, this led to the increasingly complex design of private space and the interior of buildings. During the later decades of the nineteenth century, more and more towns and cities across Europe became integrated into comprehensive water supply and sewerage systems, in order to accommodate the increasing demand for personal use of water.58 With the growing use of private washrooms, the smell of human excrement began to lose the last semblance of its rural associations with fertility: from now on it was to be indicative of disorder, decay and physical repulsion. This is reected in a survey of Parisian smells published in 1881, which recorded that cesspits, refuse and sewers were the three most unpleasant odours, and that the proliferation of regulations for the construction and operation of cesspits had proved utterly futile in solving this problem.59 The newfound bashfulness towards bodily functions in bourgeois French society emphasized the association of sewers with excrement. With the growing involvement of the state, under the guise of public health reform, the management of excrement became an increasingly rationalized activity, resulting in a steady decline in the use of cesspits, the activities of night-soil collectors and communal places for defecation. Henceforth, the regimes of the alimentary were to be conned increasingly to domestic space under a new set of relationships between the body, technology and urban architecture.60 One of the consequences of the reconstruction of the sewer system was that all waste water was now discharged into the Seine at just two points along the river, Asnie ` res and Saint-Denis. Unlike

contemporary integrated sewage treatment systems, Haussmanns sewers were only intended for storm water and lacked any means for pollution control. With the increasing quantities of human and industrial wastes entering the sewer system, these two outlets left stretches of the river a cauldron of bacteria, infection and disease.61 With declining water quality, the irrigation systems at Gennevilliers were abandoned and the pre-modern organic economy was gradually lost to the demands of modern pollution control. With the loss of the organic continuities of pre-modern nature, a modern nature was being constructed through the planting of trees, the building of parks and new transport links, which enabled excursions to the citys hinterland. The Haussmanization of Paris was, above all, a process of redening nature in metropolitan terms, of inscribing new patterns of social and spatial order within which nature was increasingly to be a focus of leisure and convenience rather than of material necessity. In Seurats Bathers at Asnie `res, for example, we nd a set of gures relaxing by the Seine (Figure 5). This postimpressionist scene has for many observers served as a poignant critique of the emerging isolation and ennui of late nineteenth-century urban life. A succession of art historians and critics from Fe lix Fe ne on onwards have seen this type of work as the epitome of a kind of scientic realism which grew out of the prevailing rationalist and positivist ideologies of the time. Meyer Schapiro, for example, conceived of Seurats vision as a counterpart to the technical and engineering outlooks of the Parisian lower-middle classes. Schapiro even went so far as to suggest that Seurats pointillist technique represented a combination of rationalist aesthetics with existential social critique.62 Ranged against these materialist readings of the work are those critics who have conceived of the Bathers as lying closer to idealist and symbolist traditions wherein art is not predicated on the faithful mimesis of social reality, but is a means of accessing a higher order of creative perfection.63 The problem, however, with relegating Seurat to some form of neoplatonic aesthetic universe is that the cultural signicance of the work in both reecting and reinforcing changing attitudes towards nature may be overlooked. A more fruitful line of argument is to suggest that Seurat successfully captures a new kind of mediation between society and nature in postHaussmann Paris: we are presented with a

The Paris sewers and the rationalization of urban space

33

Figure 5 Bathers at Asnie ` res Georges-Pierre Seurat (1884)


(Courtesy of the National Gallery, London)

regularized, stylized and commodied imagery based around leisure, spectacle and the semblance of salubrity. In the place of the organic continuities of the past lies a new kind of nature for individualized leisure and consumption. A pictorial genre of the urban pastoral presented the outskirts of Paris as a harmonious interplay between nature and industry, within which real labour was left invisible.64 In Seurats Bathers, we nd a unique representation of urban nature in transition, where the established pleasures of bathing in the outskirts of Paris were simultaneously being dispelled by both declining water quality and the development of new transport links which provided greater accessibility to more salubrious places further aeld from the metropolis. Although the Bathers depicts a scene just upstream of the newly constructed sewer outow, the gures in the water seem curiously detached, as if drawn from a premicrobiological world in which water retains its elemental and symbolic purity in the face of rapid industrialization. Bathing is used here to denote an ironic continuity with the aesthetic traditions of the past, yet these gures are framed by an industrial

skyline of smoke and steam rather than the sylvan glades used by popular nineteenth-century artists such as Raphae l Collin and Jean-Charles Cazin.65 The changing place of water emerges as a central element in the shifting boundary between premodern and modern conceptions of nature. Yet the rationalizing impulse of modernity could never completely erase the surviving elements of a mythic urban space within which metaphors of bodily and social disorder could powerfully resurface to haunt the newly regulated urban society. Just as the water in Seurats Bathers swirled with unseen bacteria, the underground city continued to provide a source of anxiety and fascination for metropolitan society.

Sewers and the urban uncanny


In one of earliest surveys of the Paris sewers, in 1824, the public health activist Parent-Ducha telet (17901835) prepared a detailed olfactory topography of underground Paris, based on a series of specic smells such as insipid (lodeur fade) and

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Matthew Gandy

putrid (lodeur putride).66 For Parent-Ducha telet, sewers afforded the opportunity to combine aesthetic, moral and scientic discourses, and formed an integral element in the meticulous documentation of the realms of urban life beyond the reaches of everyday bourgeois experience. In particular, the hygienist doctrine promulgated by ParentDucha telet and his successors emphasized an explicitly gendered conception of the interrelationship between sexuality and urban disorder:
Prostitutes are as inevitable in an agglomeration of man as sewers, cesspits and garbage dumps; civil authority should conduct itself in the same manner in regard to the one as to the other: its duty is to survey them, to attenuate by every possible means the detriments inherent to them, and for that purpose to hide them, to relegate them to the most obscure corners, in a word to render their presence as inconspicuous as possible.67

The taming of nature through the new technologies of modernity carried with it an implicit echo in the social sphere.68 In bourgeois French society, women were relegated to a dichotomous olfactory universe of the foul and the fragrant, which became manifest in the cultural and aesthetic discourses of urban design above and below ground. The relegation of women to an opposite world of nature and unreason had an increasingly powerful hold over the prevailing political and intellectual outlooks of nineteenth-century Paris, where the dichotomous cultural representation of women reached its apotheosis with the ow of water through urban space. The public face of water in the lakes and fountains of imperial Paris was to be a celebration of the female form for the pleasure of the male citizen. Water-based sculptures and architectural forms allowed a symbolic continuity with classical themes based around water, nudity and human physical perfection. By the 1870s, the Renaissance emphasis on the male nude as ideal human form was increasingly supplanted by the female nude and the imposition of a new body aesthetic.69 The ornamental public fountains of Haussmanns Paris exemplied the combination of water with the control of womens sexuality in the most expensive Belle-Epoque neo-Fontainebleau style favoured by Napoleon III.70 Yet, if these fountains, lakes and other ornamental features represented the charm of virginal innocence, then the sewers continued to represent the dangerous obverse of female sexuality. The association of women with impurity is not, of course, an

invention of modernity, yet it is the reworking of pre-modern beliefs in the context of capitalist urbanization that is of interest here. In Second Empire Paris, the repression of bodily functions in bourgeois society became increasingly manifested in a fear of women and the poor. Ideological readings of nature, which drew liberally on modern science, contributed towards sharpening gender differences, with a new-found emphasis on the domestic ideal and the promotion of complementary gender roles. In reinforcing innate conceptions of gender as nature, we nd a convergence between the ideas and writings of Jules Michelet, Auguste Comte, Ernest Legouve and a panoply of other leading nineteenth-century scientists, writers and intellectuals.71 Underground urban infrastructure became a kind of repository for untamed nature, within which the innate tensions behind capitalist urbanization became magnied and distorted through the lens of middle-class anxiety. The sewer has consistently been associated with what we might term the urban uncanny: a spatially dened sense of dread in modern urban societies. In order to understand the peculiar complexity of the sewer as a recurring spatial locus of the uncanny, we need to unravel how bodily metaphors have become transposed in urban space. Within Western intellectual traditions, it is Sigmund Freuds essay on the uncanny, published in 1919, which has served as a focal point for a myriad of debates concerning the interconnection between the psychological and spatial domains of modern societies.72 The uncanny is best conceived as a boundary aesthetic with its spatiality rooted in anxieties of displacement and disorientation. Conventional accounts of the uncanny suggest that, in passing from the world above ground into that below, we are entering a new intensity of zones between the rational and irrational, nature and culture, male and female, the visible and invisible.73 Yet these dichotomous metaphors tend to conceal more than they actually reveal, obscuring the ows and interconnections that constitute material reality behind an illusion of stasis and symmetry. Recent feminist scholarship has reinterpreted the Freudian reading of the uncanny in order to dispense with more simplistic gender-based conceptions of spatial disorientation and anxiety.74 Rather than conceiving of the uncanny as a kind of urban gothicism in the Burkean aesthetic tradition, we are better served by re-interpreting the uncanny

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35

as an outcome of the complex intersection between the human body and the built environment. Within this schema, sewers represent a metaphorical space of delement and connement, their poignancy stemming from the interconnection between the private space of the home and the public me lange of urban infrastructure. The metaphorical grid surrounding the experience of the uncanny is ultimately a mystication of material reality in its implication that urban origins lie concealed beneath the surface of the city rather than being constituted through the more distant sets of social relations and spatial interconnections that sustain capitalist urbanization. The urban uncanny is a spatial fetishism of absence, a mythological response to the unseen and the unknown, which weaves together popular misconceptions of how cities function with dominant ideological responses to urban disorder. The new urban infrastructures of nineteenthcentury Paris unsettled existing metaphors of urban space: with the breaking of the organic cycle, human excrement took on an intensely abject quality as part of a multiplicity of ows that integrated the body and urban society into an uneasy whole.75 The fear of touching and the withdrawal from intimacy or curiosity towards strangers forms part of the atomization of social life under modernity.76 In this context, the relationship between organic and social metaphors becomes problematized, since the city can no longer be meaningfully conceived as a holistic or autarchic entity, but emerges as a dynamic intersection of the circulatory processes based around the exigencies of economic exchange. The olfactory revolution, emboldened by the new discourses of the medical sciences, set in train an irreversible shift in water usage, the cultural signicance of bodily smell and the demand for private space. The urban transformation created a city in which social and economic differences not only were widened, but were much more keenly felt. The separation and reorganization of space set in motion an increasing dichotomy in the olfactory experience of the urban environment between the middle classes and the labouring poor (who were considered indifferent). The old vertical separation of the classes in the apartment houses of pre-modern Paris was gradually to be supplanted by a new emphasis on horizontal segregation. Under the construction boom of the Second Empire, there was a progressive concentration of the middle classes in the

central and western parts of the city. The quest for prot strengthened the social distribution of odours, as the cleansing of the city involved a simultaneous relocation of the working classes and industry to the urban periphery.77 Haussmanns leading critics, such as Louis Lazare, repeatedly drew attention to the mass displacement of people from central Paris, and the emergence of the new slums and faubourgs at the city limits. The obverse to the rational city was not to be found beneath the streets, but in what T J Clark has termed the melancholic banlieue, a muddle of suburban sprawl, small holdings and displaced communities on the outskirts of Paris.78

Conclusion
The interrelationships between technology, modernity and capitalist urbanization are well documented. The provision of light, mobility, energy and water form part of an urban palimpsest in the progressive rationalization of urban space.79 From the early nineteenth century onwards, advances in medicine, chemistry and demography began to reveal the high death rates of towns. As a consequence, the progress of science and the administrative needs of the state developed in a symbiotic fashion.80 Yet, the development of new urban infrastructures also stemmed from the demand for greater privacy under the intensied selfawareness of modernity. The increasing aversion to communal washing facilities and the smell of excrement led to the growing use of water for washing and cleaning, which then had to be drained away. This combination of different factors behind the reconstruction of nineteenth-century cities led to a contradictory response on the part of urban planners. Though much of the literature on nineteenth-century Paris portrays Haussmann as a gure who faced rather than avoided the consequences of modernity, the actual sequence of events presents a far more complex picture. The creation of a modern metropolis introduced new sources of disorder, which conicted with existing conceptions of urban form and the pre-modern circulation of water in cities. We saw, for example, how Haussmann resisted the use of his new sewers for human faeces. His advocacy of a partial modernity was rooted in a desire for a holistic and organic union of the city in all its parts, predicated on a conception of public health that owed more to

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the neo-Hippocratic doctrines of the past than to the latest advances in scientic thought.81 The eventual integration of private dwellings into the citys sewer network in the post-Haussmann era was driven to a greater extent by changing attitudes towards the use of water than to any putative triumph of microbiological rationality over competing conceptions of public health. The contradictory rationale behind the reconstruction of the Paris sewer system challenges simplistic tautologies, which simply equate modernity with the process of Haussmannization.82 Haussmann was unable to reconcile his conception of urban order with the disengagement of urban design from explicitly organic metaphors. The tensions within Haussmanns conception of water ow in urban space stemmed from an uneven modernity, which extended across the physical, engineering and medical sciences. Eighteenthcentury conceptions of the elemental purity of water persisted despite the gathering pace of technological and scientic advances.83 In the context of water and urban design, we need to differentiate essentially pre-modern holistic and geometric visions from the powerful exigencies of capitalist urbanization operating at successively wider spatial scales. Under capitalist space and time, the corporeal unity of the pre-modern city was to be irrevocably altered, exposing an innate tension between function and perfection in the design of Second Empire Paris. The reconstruction of Paris under Haussmann was founded on a peculiar political medley of state intervention, liberal deference for powerful economic elites and a mix of aristocratic and imperial visions for the French metropolis. In his memoirs, Haussmann frequently compared his reconstruction of the Paris water and sewer system to that of imperial Rome. In Plinys description of Rome, for example, the citys sewers are singled out as the most noteworthy achievement of all, and parts of the original Roman aqueducts were actually incorporated into the city of Pariss new water supply system from the Dhuys, the Vanne and the Marne in the eastern Paris basin.84 Yet the imperial pretensions behind the rebuilding of Paris were shattered by a succession of foreign policy failures in Crimea, Italy and Mexico, culminating in the defeat of the Second Empire in the Franco-Prussian War of 1870. Whilst these episodes have been condemned by posterity, the legacy of urban and infrastructural reconstruction has met with admiration by a succession of

twentieth-century historians such as Richard de Kaufmann, Wladimir dOrmesson, Raoul Busquet and Andre Monzet.85 Despite the physical transformation of sewers over the modern period, they have never entirely lost their earlier associations with danger, disorder and threatening infestations. Through their various gender-laden, seditious and mutagenic permutations, sewers have come to symbolize the particular fears of each successive phase of bourgeois society. Sewers have consistently been portrayed as a focal point for political threats to social and political stability, both real and imagined: during the 1870 siege of Paris in the Franco-Prussian war, there was apprehension that the Germans might secretly enter the city through the sewers, and the city authorities actually sealed the Collecteur Ge ne ral dAsnie ` res in order to assuage public fears.86 The sewer has consistently been portrayed as a symbol of the unclean city, a metonym for what Godwin termed the entire excrementation of the Metropolis.87 The cesspool city of the nineteenth century was a place where metaphors of disease and moral degeneration mingled with the threat of women and the labouring classes to middle-class society. Even the most progressive and perceptive of nineteenth-century commentators on urban life such as Engels, Dickens and Baudelaire failed to look beyond their dichotomous urban worlds of dirt and cleanliness.88 Yet, in order to understand the enduring association of the subterranean city with the urban uncanny, we need to transcend these dualistic metaphors and develop a richer appreciation of how human bodies and urban form interact. By tracing the ow of water through the urban alimentary system, we can discern a series of tensions and contradictions that underlie the development of the modern city. Water provides a powerful link between the body and the built environment, within which competing conceptions of public health and spatial order have become entwined. The very uidity of water as both a biophysical and a symbolic realm serves to disrupt and challenge simplistic understandings of how complex urban societies function and the degree to which social and spatial order can ever be achieved under the contradictory dynamics of capitalist urbanization. The Haussmann era, as we have seen, was both contradictory in its inception and also highly uneven in its practical impact. It was not until the 1930s, after all, that the whole of Paris

The Paris sewers and the rationalization of urban space

37
M and Bergeron L 1989 DHaussmann a ` nos jours in Bergeron L ed Paris: gene `se dun paysage Picard, Paris 21798; Rossi A 1982 The architecture of the city (original 1966; translated by D Ghirardo and J Ockman) MIT Press, Cambridge MA; Saalman H 1971 Haussmann: Paris transformed George Braziller, New York; Sutcliffe A 1970 The autumn of central Paris Arnold, London; 1981 Towards the planned city: Germany, Britain, the United States and France 1780 1914 Blackwell, Oxford; 1993 Paris: an architectural history Yale University Press, New Haven CT. An exaggerated emphasis on the signicance of the Haussmann era is to be found in Benevolo L 1993 The European city (translated by C Ipsen) Blackwell, Oxford; Chapman J M and Chapman B 1957 The life and times of Baron Haussmann: Paris in the second empire Weidenfeld and Nicholson, London; Jordan D P 1995 Transforming Paris: the life and labors of Baron Haussmann Free Press, New York. Benevolo suggests that in Second Empire Paris, there was a decisive shift from private to public interests, yet, as this paper shows in the case of sewers and urban sanitation, public interests only began to prevail in the 1890s. The most comprehensive piece of recent scholarship on the Paris sewers is provided by the historian Donald Reid, but his study does not explore the interrelationships between modernity and urban space or the cultural ramications of new urban infrastructures in any detail. Reids primary interest is in labour history over a very long time frame, from the pre-modern era until the late twentieth century. See Reid D 1991 Paris sewers and sewermen: realities and representations Harvard University Press, Cambridge MA. Barrie Ratcliffe, in a paper devoted to the citys nineteenth-century sanitation arrangements, explores the sewage system pre-Haussmann, and emphasizes how urban historians have tended to overlook the signicance of this earlier era. See Ratcliffe B M 1990 Cities and environmental decline: elites and the sewage problem in Paris from the mid 18th to the mid 19th century Planning Perspectives 5 189222. In contrast, this paper suggests that it is the last decade of the nineteenth century that presents a crucial transformation in the continuity between the Haussmann period and earlier times. In cinema alone, we can draw on many examples, such as Carol Reeds The third man (1948), Andrzej Wajdas Kanal (1956) and Stephen Kings It (1987). As for literature, examples include Emile Zolas Germinal (1885), Gaston Lerouxs The phantom of the opera (1911) and Victor Hugos Les mise rables (1862). More recently, the theme of the urban labyrinth has been developed in Thomas Pynchons V: a novel (1963) and Harlan Ellisons Strange wine (1978); in music, sewers have featured in 1970s new wave, with The Stranglers Down in the sewer (1977), and in contemporary rap, with DAS EFXs Straight from the sewer (1995).

was nally integrated into the citys water and sewer system as a public service, as distinct from the more differentiated and private approaches of the past.89

Acknowledgements
I would like to thank Hugh Clout, Hillary Cottom, Richard Dennis, Rebecca Spang and the referees for their comments on an earlier draft. The main archival sources used were the Bibliothe ` que Historique de la Ville de Paris and the Institution of Civil Engineers, London. Some nancial assistance for the research was provided by the British Academy and University College London. Earlier versions of the paper were presented to seminars held at Cambridge University, Lampeter University, the London School of Economics and the Annual Meeting of the Association of American Geographers in Boston.

Notes
1 A deformed tangle of lth and entrails beyond the imagination of Piranesi (authors translation) in Nadar F 1861 (reprinted 1982) Le Paris souterrain de Fe lix Nadar 1861: des os et des eaux Caisse Nationale des Monuments Historiques et des Sites, Paris 41. The magnicent sewers of Paris have always been a source of public fascination and have been honoured with illustrious visits. Not a single foreign monarch or distinguished person has left Paris without visiting the sewers. (Belgrand E 1887 Les travaux souterrains de Paris V: les e gouts et les vidanges Dunod, Paris 174, authors translation) Hiorns F R 1956 Town-building in history: an outline review of conditions, inuences, ideas, and methods affecting planned towns through ve thousand years George G Harrap, London 247. Bacon E N 1967 Design of cities Thames and Hudson, London 179. See also Berman M 1982 All that is solid melts into air: the experience of modernity Verso, London 13172; Clark T J 1985 The painting of modern life: Paris in the art of Manet and his followers Thames and Hudson, London; Gaillard J 1977 Paris la ville, 1852 1870 Champion, Paris; Harvey D 1985 Consciousness and the urban experience: studies in the history and theory of capitalist urbanization 1 Blackwell, Oxford; Morizet A 1932 Du vieux Paris au Paris moderne, Haussmann et ses pre de cesseurs Hachette, Paris; Pinol J-L ed 1996 Atlas historiques de villes de France Centre de Cultura Contempora ` nia de Barcelona, Barcelona; Olsen D J 1986 The city as a work of art: London, Paris, Vienna Yale University Press, New Haven CT 3557; Roncayolo

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8 Hugo V 1982 Les mise rables (original 1862; translated by N Denny) Penguin, Harmondsworth 1075. Hugo based his vivid description of the pre-Haussmann Paris sewers largely on the accounts given by the early nineteenth-century public health activist ParentDucha telet. For an interesting analysis of Hugos conception of the subterranean city, see Chevalier L 1973 Laboring classes and dangerous classes in Paris during the rst half of the nineteenth century (original 1958; translated by F Jellinek) Princeton University Press, Princeton NJ. See also Lesser W 1987 The life below the ground: a study of the subterranean in literature Faber and Faber, Boston; Williams R H 1990 Notes on the underground: an essay on technology, society and the imagination MIT Press, Cambridge MA. Vidler A 1992 The architectural uncanny: essays in the modern unhomely MIT Press, Cambridge MA 192. See also Florman S C 1976 The existential pleasures of engineering St Martins Press, New York. Williams Notes on the underground op cit 21. Les galeries souterraines, organes de la grande cite , fonctionneraient comme ceux du corps humain, sans se montrer au jour; leau pure et fra che, la lumie ` re et la chaleur y circuleraient comme les uides divers dont le mouvement et lentretien servent a ` la vie. Les se cre tions sy exe cuteraient myste rieusement, et maintiendraient la sante publique sans troubler la bonne ordonnance de la ville et sans ga ter sa beaute exte rieure. (Haussmann B 1854 Me moire sur les eaux de Paris, pre sente a la commission municipale par m le pre fet de la Seine Vinchon, Paris 53) A variety of interdisciplinary approaches to the understanding of water, modernity and architectural form are to be found in Lahiji N and Friedman D S eds 1997 Plumbing: sounding modern architecture Princeton Architectural Press, New York. See also Swyngedouw E 1996 The city as a hybrid: on nature, society and cyborg urbanization Capitalism, Nature, Socialism 7 6580. Hambourg M 1995 A portrait of Nadar in Hambourg M Heilbrun F and Ne agu P eds 1995 Nadar Museum of Modern Art, New York 235. Nadars family had strong republican and internationalist sentiments: his father had taken part in the Lyonnais uprising during the French revolution and had also published Fe licite de Lamennaiss radical tract entitled Essai sur lindiffe rence en matie `re de religion in 1817. On the history of photography, see Gernsheim A and Gernsheim H 1965 L J M Daguerre: the history of the diorama and the daguerreotype Secker and Warburg, London; 1969 The history of photography from the camera obscura to the beginning of the modern era McGraw-Hill, New York; Newhall B 1982 The history of photography Museum of Modern Art, New York; Scharf A 1968 Art and photography Allen Lane, London; Szarkowski J 1989 Photography until now Museum of Modern Art, New York.

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14 Harvey 1985 Consciousness and the urban experience op cit 65. 15 See Eugny A 1945 Au temps de Baudelaire, Guys und Nadar Editions du Che ne, Paris; Gosling N 1976 Nadar Secker and Warburg, London; Prinet J and Dilasser A 1966 Nadar Colin, Paris; Rice S 1997 Parisian views MIT Press, Cambridge MA. 16 Aubenas S 1995 Beyond the portrait, beyond the artist in Hambourg et al Nadar op cit 95107. 17 Hambourg A portrait of Nadar op cit; Heilbrun F 1995 Nadar and the art of portrait photography in Hambourg et al Nadar op cit 3559; Krauss R 1978 Tracing Nadar October 5 2947; Ne agu P 1995 Nadar and the artistic life of his time in Hambourg et al Nadar op cit 5977; Rouille A 1995 When I was a photographer: the anatomy of a myth in Hambourg et al Nadar op cit 10714. 18 The debate surrounding modernity and aesthetic realism is a pivotal theme in relation to critical receptions of the emergence of impressionist and post-impressionist art. See Sutcliffe A 1995 The impressionists and Haussmanns Paris French Cultural Studies 6 2 197219. 19 Nadar F 1900 (reprinted 1994) Quand je tais photographe Seuil, Paris; Nadar Le Paris souterrain de Fe lix Nadar 1861 op cit. See also Dollfus C 1962 Balloons (original 1960; translated by C Mason) Prentice-Hall, London; Rey P 1970 Du ballon de Nadar a ` Apollo XIII: la de tection a ` distance des ressources naturelles Me moires de lAcade mie des Sciences, Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres de Toulouse 132 97103. 20 Hambourg A portrait of Nadar op cit 28. 21 Hugo Les mise rables op cit 1072. The word cloaca is described in the Oxford English Dictionary as meaning Sewer; excrementory cavity in birds, reptiles, etc; gathering place of moral evil. The word is derived from the Latin Cloacina, the Roman goddess of the sewer. See Reid Paris sewers and sewermen op cit 15. 22 See Schivelbusch W 1988 Disenchanted night: the industrialization of light in the nineteenth century (original 1983; translated by A Davies) Berg Publishers, Oxford. 23 Pinkney D 1958 Napoleon III and the rebuilding of Paris Princeton University Press, Princeton NJ. 24 See Reid Paris sewers and sewermen op cit. Demand easily outstripped available places on allocated visiting days and the sewers were listed as a major attraction in popular tourist guides of the late nineteenth century. See, for example, Baedeker K 1876 Paris and its environs Karl Baedeker, Leipzig. 25 Pinkney Napoleon III and the rebuilding of Paris op cit 143. 26 Williams R 1973 The country and the city Oxford University Press, Oxford. 27 Quoted in Corbin A 1986 The foul and the fragrant: odor and the French social imagination (original 1982; translated by M L Kochan R Porter and C Prendergast)

10 11

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Harvard University Press, Cambridge MA 115. Paris had been known as the city of mud (ville de boue) since Roman times. See Reid Paris sewers and sewermen op cit 1011. On the consequences of rapid urban growth, see also Chevalier Laboring classes and dangerous classes in Paris op cit; Delaporte F 1986 Disease and civilization: the cholera in Paris, 1832 MIT Press, Cambridge MA; Harvey Consciousness and the urban experience op cit 63; Kearns G 1991 Biology, class and the urban penalty in Kearns G and Withers W J eds Urbanising Britain: essays on class and community in the nineteenth century Cambridge University Press, Cambridge 1230; Bourdelais P 1987 Histoire du chole ra en France 1832 1854 Payot, Paris; Kudlick C J 1996 Cholera in postrevolutionary Paris: a cultural history University of California Press, Berkeley. Chapman and Chapman The life and times of Baron Haussmann op cit; Jordan Transforming Paris op cit; Malet H 1973 Le Baron Haussmann et la re novation de Paris Editions Municipales, Paris; Peets E 1926 Famous town planners: Baron Haussmann Town Planning Review 12 18190. Pinkney Napoleon III and the rebuilding of Paris op cit. Saint-Simon (17601825) played a signicant role in the development of new political and economic ideas, which reected the growing inuence of industrialists and scientists in nineteenth-century France. Like Comte, he was an early advocate of technologically based positivist solutions to political problems, and proved highly inuential within the French engineering profession. See Harvey Consciousness and the urban experience op cit. Pinkney Napoleon III and the rebuilding of Paris op cit. Clark The painting of modern life op cit 37. Harvey Consciousness and the urban experience op cit 87. Saalman Haussmann: Paris transformed op cit. The rst covered sewer in Paris was the e gout de ceinture (the beltway sewer), built by the pre vo t (city father) Hughes Aubriot in 1370. By 1636, a report revealed that the city had built a network of only 24 sewers, yet most of these were either seriously dilapidated or choked with rotting refuse. No more than a quarter of these sewers were covered and the inability of city authorities to improve the sanitary conditions of the city became symbolic of the ineptitude and iniquity of pre-revolutionary France. By 1826, the major Amelot, La Roquette and Chemin Vert sewers had become completely blocked with refuse, and, with the obstruction of the sewers, the city faced a growing crisis of undrained stagnant water and overowing refuse dumps. See Beaumont-Maillet L 1991 Leau a ` Paris Hazan, Paris; Cebron de Lisle P 1991 Leau a Paris au dix-neuvie ` me sie ` cle Unpublished PhD dissertation, Universite de Lille III; Chevallier A 1851 Notice historique sur la police et la distribution des eaux dans Paris depuis 360 jusqua ` le poque

39
actuelle, pour servir a ` lhistoire de la salubrite et de lhygie ` ne publique des grandes villes Annales dHygie `ne Publique et de Me decine Le gale 45 571; Diffre P 1967 Historique de lalimentation en eau de Paris Bulletin de Bureau de Recherches Ge ologiques et Minie `res 4 322; Dupuit J 1865 Traite the orique et pratique de la conduite et de la distribution des eaux 2nd edition Dunod, Paris; Emmery M 1837 Statistique des e gouts de la ville de Paris Chez Carillan-Goeury, Paris; Haussmann Me moire sur les eaux de Paris op cit; Haussmann G-E 1854 (reprinted 1861) De le gout des eaux in Documents relatifs aux eaux de Paris Paul Dupont, Paris 5483; Reid Paris sewers and sewermen op cit 1215; Roche D 1984 Le temps de leau rare, du moyen age a ` le poque moderne Annales: Economies, Socie te s, Civilisations 39 38399; Vautel C 1904 Le Seine des eaux a ` Paris Monde Moderne XX 43744. Belgrand E 1854 Recherches statistiques sur les sources du bassin de la Seine quil est possible de conduire a ` Paris Vinchon, Paris; Belgrand Les travaux souterrains de Paris V op cit; Chevalier Laboring classes and dangerous classes in Paris op cit; Figuier L 1862 Les eaux de Paris Michel Le vy Fre ` res, Paris; Haussmann B 1858 Second me moire sur les eaux de Paris pre sente par le pre fet de la Seine au conseil municipal Typographie de Charles de Mourgues Fre ` res, Paris. Haussmann Second me moire sur les eaux op cit. See also Pinkney Napoleon III and the rebuilding of Paris op cit. Belgrand E 1875 Historique du service des eaux, depuis lanne e 1854 jusqua ` lanne e 1874 Dunod, Paris; Belgrand Les travaux souterrains de Paris V op cit. Belgrand stressed the importance of better tools and ventilation for sewer workers as part of his modernization programme; Dumont A 1862 Les eaux de Lyon et de Paris Dunod, Paris; LOlivier V Maxwell Lyte F and Stoffel L M 1873 Utilisation des eaux des e gouts de la ville de Paris et assainissement du cours de la Seine Imprimerie Polyglotte de L Hugonis, Paris. See also Caron F 1990 Paris et ses re seaux: naissance dun mode de vie urbain XIXXXe sie `cles Bibliothe ` que historique de la ville de Paris, Paris; Pinkney Napoleon III and the rebuilding of Paris op cit 35. The term night-soil refers to the contents of various types of cesspools and cesspits and the fact that the unpleasant (and often dangerous) activity of emptying these structures was usually carried out at night. Some of the earliest public health ordinances in France were directed at the problem of human waste: in 1533, for example, a royal decree ordered that every new property must have a cesspool constructed, yet there were no attempts to impose design specications on these underground structures until the early nineteenth century. See Deligny M 1883 Les projets de loi et de re `glement relatifs a ` lenvoi direct des vidanges a ` le gout Chaix, Paris. Haussmann Me moire sur les eaux de Paris op cit. The only vestige of a combined sewer system that

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30 31

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32 33 34 35 36

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Haussmann permitted was the construction of public urinals (pissoirs) along the new boulevards. See also Pinkney Napoleon III and the rebuilding of Paris op cit 136. In 1854, Haussmann wrote disparagingly of the English emphasis on the use of combined sewers for storm water and human excrement: Me me, ainsi corrige , ce syste ` me aurait encore pour re sultat ine vitable linfection des galeries de gout, dont la pente ne peut e tre que tre ` s-faible, dapre ` s le relief du sol de Paris, et quaucune chasse deau, si forte quelle soit, ne lave et nassainit jamais comple tement. (Haussmann Me moire sur les eaux de Paris op cit 48) See also Dumont A and Dumont G 1874 Les eaux de N mes, de Paris et de Londres Dunod, Paris; Hederstedt H-B 1865 An account of the drainage of Paris Minutes of the Proceedings of the Institution of Civil Engineers 24 25779; Pinkney Napoleon III and the rebuilding of Paris op cit 144. Chevallier A 1860 Essai sur la possibilite de recueillir les matie `res fe cales, les eaux vannes, les urines de Paris, avec utilite pour la salubrite , et advantage pour la ville et pour lagriculture Baillie ` re, Paris; Paulet M 1858 Les vidanges, engrais de Paris Smith, Paris; Pre fet de la Seine 1885 Les vidanges de Paris et lagriculture Adolphe Reiff, Paris. See also Guillerme A E 1983 (reprinted 1988) The age of water: the urban environment of the north of France AD 3001800 Texas A&M University Press, College Station; Teich M 1982 Circulation, transformation, conservation of matter and the balancing of the biological world in the eighteenth century Ambix 29 1728. Ducuing F 1875 Des eaux de gout et des vidanges: leur utilisation par irrigation dans leur parcours jusqua ` la mer Socie te des Etudes, Paris. See also Ratcliffe Cities and environmental decline op cit. At the close of the Haussmann era, there were still wide disparities in the number of homes connected to the new water distribution system: some 82 per cent of homes in the affluent inner-city arrondissements and only 48 per cent in the predominantly working-class outer arrondissements. No legal sanctions existed to force existing property-owners to link up to the new system, and new buildings were only required to drain storm water. See Chatzis K and Coutard O 1998 Eau et gaz a ` tous les e tages: compared patterns of network development in Paris Paper presented at the Urban Futures Technological Futures Conference, Durham, 2325 April. In the post-Haussmann era, the advocacy of sewer water for irrigation emerged as a temporary solution to the desire for organic continuity in the circulation of urban water. Examples include Aubrey-Vitet M 1880 Le puration et lutilisation des eaux de gouts Quantin, Paris; Belgrand E 1871 Transformation de la vidange et suppression de la voirie de Bondy: ache `vement

Matthew Gandy
des e gouts et emploi de leurs eaux dans lagriculture Mourgues, Paris; Cha tel V 1876 Assainissement de la Seine: e puration des eaux de gouts avant leur jet dans le euve Trouttet, Asnie ` res; Durand-Claye M A 1882 Re ponse a ` larticle dans la revue des deux-mondes, par Aubrey-Vitet sur la question des e gouts de Paris Choix, Paris; Haussmann G-E 1893 Me moires du Baron Haussmann: volume 3 2nd edition Victor-Havard, Paris 319; Joly C 1877 La question des eaux de gouts en France et en Angleterre Michels, Paris; 1885 Les eaux de gout a Paris Chaix, Paris; la Berge A F 1988 Edwin Chadwick and the French connection Bulletin of the History of Medicine 62 2342; Me moire de linspecteur general des ponts et chausse es 1875 Transformation de la vidange et suppression de la voirie de Bondy: ache `vement des e gouts et emploi de leurs eaux dans lagriculture Mourgues, Paris; Miotat E 1881 Supression comple `te de la vidange: assainissement des e gouts et des habitations Ducher, Paris. Jolys writings are particularly interesting for their explicit recognition that the modernization of the Paris sewers remained incomplete: Il est triste de penser, quen 1877, on en est encore a ` he siter pour envoyer aux e gouts la totalite des vidanges solides et liquides, et que les maisons les plus favorise es nont encore que le syste ` me diviseur propose par Gourlier en 1788. Sur 300 000 me ` tres cubes deaux vannes quon envoie quotidiennement a ` la Seine, que peuvent faire 1000 me ` tres cubes de matie ` res solides a ` le tat frais? (Joly 1877, 2) 47 Durand-Claye M A 1880 Le syste `me de Liernur G Masson, Paris. See also Ratcliffe Cities and environmental decline op cit. Some commentators emphasized ever more elaborate technical modications to the design and operation of cesspits, including the implementation of ideas developed by Gourlier, Giraud and others in the late eighteenth century for the separation of urine and faeces within the home. See Berlier J-B 1883 Projet de vidange pneumatique pour la ville de Paris Grande Imprimerie, Paris; Liger F 1875 Fosses daisances: latrines, urinoirs et vidanges Baudry, Paris. For Suilliot, the problem of what to do with human waste was la question e ternelle des vidanges, leaving only two real options: assainissement (disposal) or utilisation (use) (Suilliot H 1880 La question des vidanges Vauthrin, Paris 3). Interestingly, Haussmann had also reected on the technical possibilities for a dual sewer system in his submission to the citys municipal council in 1854 as part of the canalisation comple ` te de Paris; see Haussmann Me moire sur les eaux de Paris op cit 4951. 48 Jordan Paris transformed op cit 271. It would be difficult to argue that existing sanitation arrangements were clearly backward in public health terms, since Parisian mortality rates compared favourably with other European cities at the turn of the century. See Kearns G 1989 Zivilis or Hygaeia: urban public health and the epidemiological transition in Lawton

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43

44

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The Paris sewers and the rationalization of urban space


R ed The rise and fall of great cities: aspects of urbanization in the western world Belhaven, London 96124. As early as 1883, the city council urged that the connection and subscription to water and sewer services should be compulsory, in order to extend adequate sanitation to poorer parts of city, but this initial attempt to ensure integration into the citys new water and sewer system was to be subjected to a successful legal challenge by private property interests. See Chatzis and Coutard Eau et gaz a ` tous les e tages op cit. See Chatzis and Coutard Eau et gaz a ` tous les e tages op cit. Bourneville D 1892 Le tout-a ` -le gout et lassainissement de la Seine Bureaux du Progre ` s Me dical, Paris. Bourneville scorned opposition to the tout-a ` -le gout solution, pointing out that human faeces had already been entering the sewer system throughout the nineteenth century at La Place Maubert, Rue Saint-Jacques and a number of other locations across the city. Amondruz V 1883 Assainissement de Paris: le tout a ` le gout rationnel obtenu par la vidange hydraulique Ducher, Paris; Bert E no date Loi du fe vrier 1888 concernant la re pression des fraudes dans la commerce des engrais Chevalier-Maresq, Paris; Bourneville Le touta ` -le gout et lassainissement de la Seine op cit; Gauthier L 1888 Le tout a ` le gout, conside rations sur les diffe rents syste `mes de vidange a ` Paris Chamerot, Paris; Ge rards E 1908 Paris souterrain Garnier Fre ` res, Paris; PouletAllamagny J-J 1982 Note historique in Nadar Le Paris souterrain de Fe lix Nadar 1861 op cit 612; Ville G no tat de lopinion du monde agricole en 1890 sur la date E doctrine des engrais chimiques Libraire Agricole, Paris. Corbin The foul and the fragrant op cit 723; Vigarello G 1988 Concepts of cleanliness: changing attitudes in France since the middle ages (original 1985; translated by J Birrell) Cambridge University Press, Cambridge. Braham W W 1997 Siegried Giedion and the fascination of the tub in Lahiji and Friedman Plumbing op cit 200224; Giedion S 1948 Mechanization takes command: a contribution to anonymous history W W Norton and Co, New York; Illich I 1985 H2O and the waters of forgetfulness: reections on the historicity of stuff Marion Boyars, London. Georges Vigarello details the decline of group bathing in sixteenth-century France and stresses the role played by seigneurial courts and other edicts against public nudity. See The disappearance of certain practices and The old pleasures of water in Vigarello Concepts of cleanliness op cit 1237. Corbin The foul and the fragrant op cit 175. In the seventeenth century, bathing had been considered doubly dangerous: the rendering of skin moist and soft was considered feminine, whilst simultaneously exposing the body to the threat of unhealthy air and disease. Even Francis Bacon, the pioneer of the empirical sciences, cautioned against allowing the

41
liquors watery part to penetrate the body. See Classen C Howes D and Synnott A 1994 Aroma: the cultural history of smell Routledge, London 70. 56 The late eighteenth century and early decades of the nineteenth century saw increasing attempts to regulate the use of cesspits more effectively. See, for example, Dubois M Huzard M and He ricart de Thury M 1819 Rapport sur les fosses mobiles inodores Bureau de lEntreprise Ge ne rale, Paris; Giraud P 1786 Fosses daisances et leurs inconve nients Cailleau, Paris; Goulet M 1787 Inconve nients des fosses daisance, possibilite de les supprimer Auteur, Paris; Labarraque M Chevallier A and Parent-Ducha telet A J B 1840 Rapport sur les ame liorations a introduire dans les fosse daisances, leur mode de vidange, et les voiries de la ville de Paris Renouard, Paris (reprinted in Annales dHygie `ne Publique 14 2 176); Laborie M 1778 Observations sur les fosses daisances et moyens de pre venir les inconve nients de leur vidange College de Pharmacie, Paris; Lucquel J P 1840 De lassainissement de la vidange et de la supression des voiries de la ville de Paris Lacquin, Paris; Municipalite de Paris 1792 Arre te concernant la salubrite et la vidange des fosses daisance, puits et puisards Lottin, Paris; Pre fecture de police, conseil de salubrite 1835 Rapport sur les ame liorations a ` introduire dans les voiries, les modes a ` vidange et les fosses daisances de la ville de Paris Lottin, Paris; Sucquet J P and Krafft L 1840 Lassainissement de la vidange et de la supression des voieries de la ville de Paris Felix Locquin, Paris. Sucquet and Krafft (1840, 6) provide a vivid depiction of the stench and inconvenience of night-soil collection in the early decades of the nineteenth century: Comme par le passe , chaque maison deviendra tour a ` tour un foyer de manations infectes, et la ville sera sillonne e tous les soirs par ces charettes quon devine a ` leur odeur et quon ne peut e viter a ` une certaine heure dans Paris. 57 Corbin The foul and the fragrant op cit. Norbert Elias develops a similar theme in his exploration of the changing frontier of embarrassment, in Elias N 1978 The civilizing process. Volume 1: the history of manners (original 1939; translated by E Jephcott) Blackwell, Oxford 203, 130. See also Corbin A 1995 Time, desire and horror: towards a history of the senses (original 1991; translated by J Birrell) Polity Press, Cambridge. 58 Reid Paris sewers and sewermen op cit 27; Corbin The foul and the fragrant op cit 1723; Goubert J-P 1989 The conquest of water: the advent of health in the industrial age (original 1986; translated by A Wilson) Polity Press, Cambridge; Magraw R 1993 Producing, retailing, consuming: France 183070 in Rigby B ed 1993 French literature, thought and culture in the nineteenth century: a material world Macmillan, London 5985. For the late nineteenth-century architect and essayist Adolf Loos, for example, the increasing use of water and the technological sophistication of plumbing was a vital indicator of cultural advancement. Innovative

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changes in the design of housing were particularly advanced in England, where pressurized water faucets in kitchens and water closets were combined with the disposal of sewage through drains; but their adoption in France proved much slower. See Loos A 1997 Plumbers (original 1898; translated by H F Mallgrave) in Lahiji and Friedman Plumbing op cit 1519. Chre tien J 1881 Les odeurs de Paris: e tude analytique des causes qui concourent a linsalubrite de la ville et des moyens de les combattre Baudry, Paris. See Molesworth H 1997 Bathrooms and kitchens: cleaning house with Duchamp in Lahiji and Friedman Plumbing op cit 7492 Tucker P 1982 Monet at Argenteuil Yale University Press, New Haven CT (quoted in Frascina F Blake N Fer B Garb T and Harrison C 1993 Modernity and modernism: French painting in the nineteenth century Yale University Press, New Haven CT 121). Historical evidence of poor water quality at Asnie ` res is provided in Belgrand E 1875 Direction des eaux et des e gouts: rapport pre sente a ` m le pre fet sur le projet de de rivation des eaux de gout, depuis lembouchure du collecteur ge ne ral dAsnie `res, jusqua ` lextre mite nord-ouest de la fore t de Saint-Germain Gauthier-Villars, Paris; 1878 La situation du service des eaux et e gouts Chaix, Paris; Bourneville Le tout-a ` -le gout et lassainissement de la Seine op cit; Cabanon L 1886 De potoir et fabrique dammoniaque: linfection de la Seine LAbeille, Neuilly; Cha tel Assainissement de la Seine op cit. Bloch E 1986 The principle of hope (original 1959; translated by N Plaice S Plaice and P Knight) MIT Press, Cambridge MA; Collier P and Lethbridge R eds 1994 Artistic relations: literature and the visual arts in nineteenth-century France Yale University Press, New Haven CT; Crossley C 1993 Romanticism and the material world: mind, nature and analogy in Rigby French literature, thought and culture in the nineteenth century op cit 922; Halperin J U 1988 Fe lix Fe ne on: aesthete and anarchist in n-de-sie `cle Paris Yale University Press, New Haven CT; Kelly M 1993 Materialism in nineteenth-century France in Rigby French literature, thought and culture in the nineteenth century op cit 2341; Nochlin L 1989 Seurats La grande jatte: an anti-utopian allegory in The politics of vision: essays on nineteenth-century art and society Thames and Hudson, London 17093; Schapiro M 1935 Seurat and La grande jatte Columbia Review 17 1415. See Smith P 1996 Seurat and the avant-garde Yale University Press, New Haven CT. See Green N 1990 The spectacle of nature: landscape and bourgeois culture in nineteenth-century France Manchester University Press, Manchester. An important exception to the absence of work from these riparian landscapes can be found in Monets Men unloading coal (1875), which is reproduced in

Matthew Gandy
Leighton J and Thomson R 1997 Seurat and the bathers National Gallery, London 112. See Raphae l Collins (1884) Summer and Jean-Charles Cazins (1881) Riverbank with bathers in Leighton and Thomson Seurat and the bathers op cit 1034. Parent-Ducha telet A J B 1824 Essai sur les cloaques ou e gouts de la ville de Paris Crevot, Paris. Other early explorations of the sewers include those by Bruneseau, Inspector-General of Health between 1805 and 1812; Horeau H 1831 Nouveaux e gouts propose s a ` la ville de Paris Didot, Paris. See also Chevalier Laboring classes and dangerous classes in Paris during the rst half of the nineteenth-century op cit; Le cuyer B P 1986 Lhygie ` ne en France avant Pasteur, 17591850 in Salomon-Bayet C ed Pasteur et la re volution pastorienne Flammarion, Paris; Murard L and Zylberman P 1996 Lhygie `ne dans la re publique: la sante publique en France, ou lutopie contrarie e 18701918 Fayard, Paris. Quoted in Bernheimer C 1987 Of whores and sewers: Parent-Ducha telet, engineer of abjection Raritan: a Quarterly Review 6 7290. The word putrid, so often used by Parent-Ducha telet and others in reference to the Paris sewers, is derived from the Latin word puta meaning whore. Parent-Ducha telet was a critical early gure in the emergence of what one might term medical hygienics, and was a founder of the inuential periodical Annales dHygie `ne Publique et de la Me decine Le gale in 1829. The term Cloaca maxima, which also has an explicitly gendered etymology, is used by Baron Haussmann in Haussmann Second me moire sur les eaux de Paris op cit 107. A classic example is Michelet J 1859 (reprinted 1981) La femme Flammarion, Paris. See also Callen A 1993 Immaterial views? Science, intransigence and the female spectator of modern French art in 1879 in Rigby French literature, thought and culture in the nineteenth century op cit 18497; Corbin A 1990 Women for hire: prostitution and sexuality in France after 1850 (original 1978; translated by A Sheridan) Harvard University Press, Cambridge MA; Green The spectacle of nature op cit; Strumingher L S 1979 Lange de la maison: mothers and daughters in nineteenth-century France International Journal of Womens Studies 2. Leighton and Thomson Seurat and the bathers op cit; Illich H2O and the waters of forgetfulness op cit. Examples of water-based statues of the female nude completed during the Second Empire include the reconstruction of Lescots Fountain of the Nymphs in the Place des Innocents and the Place Louvois. Leading architects in Second Empire Paris include Hitorff and Rohault de Fleury, both of whom revived earlier styles favoured by Louis XVI in their design of public spaces and monuments. See Chadwick G F 1966 The park and the town: public landscape in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries Architectural Press, London 152 62; Hitchcock H-R 1977 Architecture: nineteenth and

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The Paris sewers and the rationalization of urban space


twentieth centuries Yale University Press, New Haven CT 197; Loyer F 1988 Paris nineteenth century: architecture and urbanism (translated by C L Clark) Abbeville Press, New York; Masson F and Gaillard M 1995 Les fontaines de Paris Martelle, Amiens; Moore C W and Lidz J 1994 Water and architecture Thames and Hudson, London; Morizet Du vieux Paris au Paris moderne op cit; Woolf P 1988 Symbol of the second empire: cultural politics and the Paris Opera House in Cosgrove D and Daniels S eds The iconography of landscape: essays on the symbolic representation, design and use of past environments Cambridge University Press, Cambridge 21436; Van Zanten D 1994 Building Paris: architectural institutions and the transformation of the French capital 18301870 Cambridge University Press, Cambridge. Green The spectacle of nature op cit 147. Late nineteenth-century Europe saw a sharpening of gender inequalities and differentiations, within which nature-based ideologies played an important role. See, for example, Anderson B S and Zinsser J P 1988 A history of their own: women in Europe from prehistory to the present Harper and Row, New York; Roszak B and Roszak T eds 1969 Masculine/feminine: readings in the sexual mythology of women Harper and Row, New York. Freud S 1919 (reprinted 1985) The uncanny in Freud S Art and literature: Jensens Gradiva, Leonardo Da Vinci and other works. Volume 14 Penguin Freud Library, Harmondsworth 33976. For useful overviews of the emergence of the uncanny, see Bresnick A 1996 Prosopoetic compulsion: reading the uncanny in Freud and Hoffmann Germanic Review 71 11432; Castle T 1995 The female thermometer: eighteenth-century culture and the invention of the uncanny Oxford University Press, New York; Tatar M M 1981 The houses of ction: toward a denition of the uncanny Comparative Literature 33 16782. For Martin Jay, a spatial reading of the uncanny is inherently gendered through desire for a womb-like state of ontological security, stemming from a polarity between the female body as nurturing and protective and as a threatening disturbance to a masculinist spatial order. Jay suggests that the most intense sense of the uncanny is rooted in a reunion with the mothers body, and especially through the spatial disorientation of the watery womb of the city. See Jay M 1995 The uncanny nineties Salmagundi 108 2029. Brennan T 1998 Psychoanalytic feminism in Jaggar A M and Young I M eds A companion to feminist philosophy Blackwell, Oxford 2729; Gatens M 1996 Imaginary bodies: ethics, power and corporeality Routledge, London; Irigaray L 1989 The gesture in psychoanalysis in Brennan T ed Between feminism and psychoanalysis Routledge, London 13555; Silverman K 1988 The acoustic mirror: the female voice in psychoanalysis

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and cinema, Indiana University Press, Bloomington; Welton D ed 1998 Body and esh: a philosophical reader Blackwell, Oxford; Vice S 1998 Psychoanalytic feminist theory in Jackson S and Jones S eds Contemporary feminist theories Edinburgh University Press, Edinburgh 16276; Vidler Architectural uncanny op cit. Julia Kristeva explores the cultural signicance of excrement as the ultimate abject object expelled from the body, a part of identity that becomes a deling otherness with the intensied differentiation of boundaries and identity under modernity; see Kristeva J 1982 Powers of horror: an essay on abjection (original 1980; translated by L S Roudiez) Columbia University Press, New York; 1986 Psychoanalysis and the polis (original 1982; translated by M Waller) in Moi T ed The Kristeva reader Blackwell, Oxford 301 20. See also Butler J 1990 Gender trouble: feminism and the subversion of identity Routledge, London 134: [T]he boundary between the inner and outer is confounded by those excremental passages in which the inner effectively becomes outer, and this excreting function becomes, as it were, the model by which other forms of identity-differentiation are accomplished. Under modernity, we nd a radical indeterminacy of bodies and nature, through the increasingly abstract and complex interactions in urban space and the dissolving of traditional conceptions of the organic cycle linking the body to social space. On the gendered dimensions of the experience of modernity (and their downplaying within the existing literature), see Deutsche R 1996 Evictions: art and spatial politics MIT Press, Cambridge MA 195202; Pollock G 1988 Vision and difference: femininity, feminism and the histories of art Routledge, London; Wolff J 1985 The invisible a neuse: women and the literature of modernity Theory, Culture and Society 2 3748. See Sennett R 1994 Flesh and stone: the body and the city in western civilization Faber and Faber, London. Corbin The foul and the fragrant op cit 135; Edholm F 1993 The view from below: Paris in the 1880s in Bender B ed Landscape: politics and perspectives Berg, Providence RI 13969; Harvey Consciousness and the urban experience op cit 94. Clark The painting of modern life op cit 29, 45. Konvitz J W Rose M H and Tarr J A 1990 Technology and the city Technology and Culture 31 28494. On the evolution of public health ideas, see Coleman W 1982 Death is a social disease: public health and political economy in early industrial France University of Wisconsin Press, Madison; Delaporte Disease and civilization op cit; Gillet M ed 1972 Lhomme, la vie et la mort dans le nord au XIXe sie `cle Universite de Lille III; Goubert The conquest of water op cit; Hildreth M 1987 Doctors, bureaucrats and public health in France, 18881902 Garland, New York; Jones S 1992 Public hygiene and hygienists in Rouen (France) 18801930

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Unpublished PhD thesis, University of Cambridge; Leca A-P 1982 Et le chole ra sabattit sur Paris 1832 Albin Michel, Paris; Murard and Zylberman Lhygie `ne dans la re publique op cit; Salamon-Bayet C ed 1986 Pasteur et la re volution pastorienne Payot, Paris. 81 Haussmanns urban geometry owed more to the imaginary cities of the Italian Renaissance than to the technical impetus of new advances in engineering science. Examine, for example, Antonio Averlino il Filaretes water-based design for the ideal city of Sforzinda (c 145764) in Moore and Lidz Water and architecture op cit 38. 82 Tautological conceptions of the relationship between modernity and the process of Haussmannization are criticized in Clark The painting of modern life op cit 14. 83 Gough J B 1983 Lavoisiers memoirs on the nature of water and their place in the chemical revolution Ambix 30 89106; Lavoisier A-L 1774 Calculs et observations sur le projet de tablissement dune pompe a ` feu pour fournir de leau a ` la ville de Paris Histoire de lAcade mie Royale des Sciences, anne e 1771 1744; Meldrum A N 1932 Lavoisiers work on the nature of water and the supposed transmutation of water into earth (17681773) Archeion 14 2467. See also Hamlin C 1990 A science of impurity: water analysis in nineteenth-century Britain Adam Hilger, Bristol.

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84 Belgrand E 1875 Les travaux souterrains de Paris II: les aqueducs romains Dunod, Paris; Haussmann Me moires du Baron Haussmann op cit 3512. 85 See Lavedan P 1953 Linuence de Haussmann: lhaussmannisation Urbanisme et Habitation 34 302 17; Leonard C M 1961 Lyon transformed: public works of the second empire 18531864 University of California Press, Berkeley CA. 86 Pinkney Napoleon III and the rebuilding of Paris op cit 140. 87 Quoted in Wilson E 1991 The sphinx in the city: urban life, the control of disorder, and women Virago, London 37. 88 Stallybrass P and White A 1986 The politics and poetics of transgression Methuen, London. See also Douglas M 1984 Purity and danger: an analysis of the concepts of pollution and taboo Ark, London; Sibley D 1995 Geographies of exclusion: society and difference in the west Routledge, London. 89 The Haussmann era put in place a dual water system comprising a noble network supplied by spring water for wealthy subscribers, and a second inferior network (using the dirty Ourcq canal, for example) for street cleaning, fountains and water services for the poor: see Chatzis and Coutard Eau et gaz a ` tous les e tages op cit.