Gushing over Fountains by Cleo Paskal
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There is no way Jean-Claude Rambot ever saw a dolphin. Fine 17th-century sculptor he may have been, but a marine biologist he ain't. One of his most famous works, the Fontaine des Quatres Dauphins in Aix-en-Provence, features four happy water-spouting Flippers - with scales.
Fountains are a funny thing. We take them for granted. In most cities they have become oversized pigeon pools. In a place such as Aix, France's City of Fountains, they are just another walking route. But, they deserve better. The biological merits of Rambot aside, fountains are the rare perfect synthesis of art, science and necessity.
While we crawled out of the oceans eons ago, we still like to have water close at hand. Most cities were built near lakes or rivers, and if not, the inhabitants perfected aqueducts.
Early urban planners sunk wells and searched for natural springs. Some water sources meant so much to a community, they were considered divine. The religious link with water still exists: think holy water or baptisms.
But, there is a more profound side to water worship. Ever since back pain was recognized, long soaks in hot baths have been lusted after. The Roman army, on its march through Europe, was known to detour at the slightest whiff of rotten eggs.
Aix is the site of a massive Roman baths complex built around 122 BC, by General Caius Sextius. Weary warriors found respite in the natural, 36C hot springs - a spa and convention centre of the times that helped break up the monotony of conquering Gaul. It is still a high-end spa, although it has seen a change or two in the past few thousand years.
It was, however, the practical side of our fluid fixation that invented fountains. Until relatively recently, most prosperous European towns had a fountain every few blocks. They came in all shapes and spouts. Some fell in a rain, surrounded by low wide basins, perfect for washing clothes or children. Others had a single cherub spewing a stream of clear drinking water. Some were great for watering horses.
With no running water at home, fountains were essential. With the development of engineering, they became complex science, while pros- perity brought sculptors who turned fountains into art.
Necessity, on the other hand, led to a complex water economy. Some people had rights to certain fountains, religious orders commandeered entire springs, and some were claimed by water carriers who formed unions to scare off any one else. The wealthy got around all those politics by having private fountains built in their courtyards.
The need for water (or the desire to show off how much you had) led to astounding feats of engineering. There were canals, paddle wheels, aqueducts, artesian wells, water towers, flushing toilets that are a thousand years old and water pumps of all kinds. The tympan, for example, was powered by a person walking inside a drum, much like a hamster's wheel. At Versailles, more than 40 kilometres of cast-iron pipes were used to create a water world that will continue to impress mankind long after Kevin Costner is gone.
Since enemies tended to drop dead beasties into wells to wipe out entire towns in one blow, the very wealthy not only had their own fountains, but also their own filtration systems. Which also meant they did not have to hang out with the pestilence-ridden commoners at the corner fountain, for whom the humble village fountain was the focal point of daily life.
That made it the natural place for public art. Above the flow of water were placed civic leaders (who doubtless had their own water supply), conquerors, angels and odd dolphins.
I used to live near a fountain in Montreal that older residents call the Fountain of Tears. It was where the women would come to wash their clothes while trading stories of drunken husbands, lousy children and evil landlords. Now it is a well-manicured, yuppie hangout, where people are careful not to step on the lawns, and children are discouraged from going too near the fountain -- lest they get wet.
The next time you pass a fountain, either in Aix or at home, ignore the scales on the dolphin and focus on the clear, clean, liquid flowing below. Then splash a little, there is nothing like returning to your roots.