David Buttery,Napoleon’s Paris: A Guide to the Napoleonic Sites of the Consulate and the First Empire,1799–1815

Reviewed by: Charles Esdaile, University of Liverpool, UK

One of the pillars of the argument of a recent biography that extolls the virtues of Napoleon Bonaparte to such an extent that it concludes that he deserves to be regarded as ‘Napoleon the Great’ is that the French ruler beautified Paris. If substance is to be sought for this remark, the reader need look no further than Napoleon’s Paris. Essentially a guide to the monuments, public buildings and other sites of interest associated with the Consulate and Empire, this pulls no punches. In the words of its author, David Buttery:

[Napoleon’s] civic accomplishments outlasted and eclipsed his achievements on the battlefield, although they are nowhere near as well-known. This is clearly evident in Paris, which benefited enormously from his rule. In a practical sense, he made life easier for its citizens in terms of travel, accommodation, sanitation and work. Yet he also adored the city and tried to make it even more beautiful by commissioning new parks, bridges, monuments and buildings. Metaphorically speaking, almost every stone in Paris bears his name as the emperor habitually intervened in projects large and small, devoting much time and energy into improving the city. (x)

These panegyrics, alas, are all too typical of what is a rather uncritical work. That said, it cannot be denied that the French ruler expended a great deal of energy on his capital. It was, then, during his rule that: the first steps were taken in the construction of a modern system of sewers; many streets were paved; the Canal d’Ourcq was constructed to bring clean drinking water into the heart of the city; numerous drinking fountains were installed – two surviving examples are the Fontaine du Palmiers and the Fontaine d’Egypte – and no fewer than 19 new wells dug for the same purpose; new thoroughfares such as the Rue de Rivoli, the Rue de Castiglione and the Rue Napoléon (today the Rue de la Paix) were driven through some particularly dreadful slum districts; several new examples were added to the collection of shopping arcades inherited from the Revolution and the last years of the ancien régime, the most famous being the Galerie Saint Honoré; many new public buildings such as the Bourse and the Halle des Vins were erected; Louvre was thoroughly renovated and given the appearance that it enjoys today; the Seine was canalized by the construction of the quais which line its banks to this day; the number of bridges linking the rive gauche and the rive droite were increased from six to nine; five slaughter-houses were set up in peripheral districts so as to end the risk to public health and sensitivity caused by the practice of killing beasts in the streets; the city’s hospitals were reorganized and placed under the direction of a central board of health; and, finally, Paris was given its first cemeteries, including, not least, that of Père Lachaise. This campaign of public works was not limited to the merely useful, however. Thus, part and parcel of it was the erection of new monuments designed to emphasize the glory of emperor and empire alike, namely the Arc de Tromphe du Carrousel, the Vendôme column and, albeit in outline alone, the Arc de Triomphe de l’Etoile, in all three of which was one message and one message alone, namely that Napoleon’s rule was one founded on military might.

All this and more – there is, for example, a long passage on Napoleon’s tomb at Les Invalides as well as much information on the tombs of the marshals and other personalities of the First Empire buried in the Père Lachaise – is covered in detail in Buttery’s book, and there is no doubt that this last is therefore a ‘must’ for all those who visit Paris on the trail of the emperor. Yet it cannot but be lamented that more context was not provided in respect of all the frenetic activity whose traces remain so widespread today. In the first place, there was nothing especially novel about the construction of abattoirs, market halls, cemeteries and sewers, such matters having been something to which the enlightened absolutists of the eighteenth century had either given much attention to themselves or would certainly have addressed had they had the same resources as Napoleon. In the second place, if the emperor wished to beautify Paris, it was in large part because to do so was to solidify the status of the new Rome that he desired for his capital, just as the Louvre was opened as an art gallery, not just to improve the cultural level or increase the recreational opportunities of the citizenry, but also to display both the choicest spoils of Napoleon’s wars and the propaganda canvasses of such painters as David and Le Gros. And, in the third place, underlying all else was a strong political imperative: having personally witnessed the storming of the Tuileries in August 1792, Napoleon was well aware of the danger posed by the Paris crowd and in consequence much concerned both to flatter its vanity and to feed its collective belly through the extensive programmes of public works (not, of course, that he was disposed to rely on such measures: though we hear nothing of it in Buttery’s work, the two-regiment strong Garde Municipal de Paris – a unit dating from 1804 consisting entirely of veteran soldiers rewarded for good behaviour with a billet that could hardly have been cushier – was ever present in the wings ready to take centre-stage in the event of the sans culottes once more flexing their muscles).

To conclude, then, Napoleon’s Paris is genuinely an excellent guide for those who wish to travel to the French capital to explore the physical legacy of the First Empire, but is much weaker when it comes to exploring the historical context of the Arc de Triomphe and its many fellows, as well as being completely devoid of any recognition that, whilst Bonaparte’s rule left Paris a more beautiful place, it left France a much poorer country.