Tag Archive: eiffel tower
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By Fredrick Brown
When Paris’s Universal Exposition opened in April 1889, insults were already bouncing off its centerpiece, Gustave Eiffel’s cast-iron tower. In many quarters it was regarded not as a wonder and marvel but as an outrage.
Ardent Catholics hated it for looming over Notre Dame and celebrating the gospel of secular government. Esthetes pronounced it a grotesque child of the industrial age. It had barely risen above its foundation when forty-six artists and literati, all pledged to the idea that the glory of Paris was written in stone, drafted an open letter of protest to the minister of public works.
France’s very “soul” was imperiled, they warned. “Do not doubt for a moment that the Eiffel Tower, which even commercial America would not want on its soil, disgraces Paris. Everyone feels it, everyone says it … We are only a faint echo of public opinion.”
One thing Eiffel could not have anticipated was the opprobrium of conservatives — better described as right-wing zealots — whose aversion to modernism bordered on paranoia, and whose paranoia was bound up with their anti-semitism. The tower embodied what they believed to be the inherent deformity of a Jewish mind (Eiffel was not in fact Jewish).
Betraying French taste in its proportions and composition, it did worse: it offered spies a high platform from which to telegraph military secrets eastward and would thus serve as a literal instrument of betrayal. So surmised Édouard Drumont and other tenors of the right-wing press.
Five years later, when Drumont announced that charges of espionage had been brought against a Jewish captain named Alfred Dreyfus, the stage had been set for his court martial. Those charges were trumped up by a military caste whose mischief came to light after 1895, provoking the infamous “Dreyfus Affair.”
France split into two camps: on the one hand “Dreyfusards” wanting to redress a flagrant miscarriage of justice, on the other hand “anti-Dreyfusards” convinced that France would lose face if the honor of the army were impugned. It was civil war. And politics walked hand in hand with esthetics. The many who believed that Dreyfus should not under any circumstances be found innocent would have applauded the demolition of Eiffel’s tower. They belonged together, Dreyfus and the Tower, in a rogue’s gallery of Jewish traitors.
Frederick Brown, the author of For the Soul of France: Culture Wars in the Age of Dreyfus
, is also the author of Flaubert, which was a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award in biography, and Zola, named an Editor’s Choice by The New York Times Book Review as one of the best books of the year. Brown has twice been the recipient of both Guggenheim and National Endowment for the Humanities fellowships. He lives in New York City.
IMAGE:“The Traitor” – Captain Dreyfus being publicly stripped of his rank in the courtyard of École Militaire. Courtesy of the Cabinet des Estampes of the Bibliothéque Nationale
By Jill Jonnes
On August 14, 1889, Thomas Edison’s third day in France, he and his entourage arrived at the Paris Exposition Universelle at 9 a.m. to ascend the world’s tallest structure. “Like everyone else I’ve come to see the Eiffel Tower,” the Wizard of Menlo Park declared. When Parisians had first seen Gustave Eiffel’s design for his 1,000-foot tower, they hurled no end of insults and lawsuits, denouncing his winning entry for the fair’s centerpiece as “a black and gigantic factory chimney, crushing [all] beneath its barbarous mass,” a dangerous and hideous “scaffold” even “America would not have.”
But by late summer of 1889 when Le Grand Edison arrived to experience this monumental wrought-iron wonder, even Eiffel’s worst critics had conceded the tower’s originality and grace. The few hold-outs consoled themselves that the tower would mar their beautiful city only for twenty years, when Eiffel would have to dismantle it.
From the day the tower opened to the public on May 15, 1889, it was mobbed. The Prince and Princess of Wales, the Shah of Persia, Lily Langtry, Annie Oakley, a shepherd on stilts, minor royalty of every stripe, politicians, scientists, artists, tourists from the farthest corners of the globe, everyone had to ascend La Tour Eiffel. On the cool August morning when Edison ascended, the famous inventor’s party emerged from the elevator to find an unlikely group of fellow American sightseers: Chief Rocky Bear and several dozen Sioux Indians from Buffalo Bill’s Wild West show, one of the great sensations of that World’s Fair summer. The Indians, their long hair entwined with feathers, rushed over, whooping a welcoming chant to a startled Edison, who gathered his wits to ask how was Chief Sitting Bull?
Gustave Eiffel, away at a spa in Evian, missed Edison’s first visit. Subsequently, Eiffel hosted a festive champagne luncheon on the tower for the American inventor, his wife Mina, daughter Dot, and a few French engineers. Afterwards, all repaired to Eiffel’s private apartment atop the tower, where Edison demonstrated his new improved talking phonograph, one of the other huge sensations of the fair. Eiffel, who had spotted Charles Gounod dining at a nearby table in the Café Brebant, invited the composer of Faust to join them. High above Paris, Gounod serenaded Edison and played the piano until late into the evening.
Edison was one of the most famous men of his day and he was full of enthusiasm for Gustave Eiffel and his tower. So from the moment I learned of their meeting, I anticipated finding a photo of the two men together. At the Eiffel Archives at the Museé d’Orsay in Paris, I worked my way through the many boxes of century-old photos and charming souvenir menus, but found no such image. Was it possible that Edison and Eiffel, two celebrated men who so admired one another, never posed for a photo together? Especially since there was a photo of Edison posing with Adolphe Salles, Eiffel’s son-in-law and partner in their global bridge-building business. Had the Eiffel family perhaps chosen not to pass the photo along when they gave Gustave’s papers to the archives? Just one of those little puzzlements.
Sadly, I had no better luck at the vast and wondrous Edison Archives at Rutgers University or at the National Park Service’s Edison Historic site at West Orange. They had no photographs at all of Thomas Edison at the Paris World’s Fair of 1889, one of the high points of his professional career. And so, I settled for next best, the great inventor with his talking phonograph in 1892.
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