As sultans and viziers long ago discovered, streams, fountains and running water refreshed dusty eastern cities in the summer heat and delighted the senses of their inhabitants. Further north, urban streams were less sparkling and less welcome. Used for centuries as open drains and sewers, they became so filthy, polluted and malodorous that one by one the sights and smells were covered up, bricked over or diverted into culverts.
Paris is now proposing to open up one of the longest and most famous, the River Bièvre, which meandered for 22 miles from outside the city until it joined the Seine near what is now Austerlitz railway station. By the time Haussmann began his massive renovation of the city in the 19th century, the Bièvre was little more than a foul stream, and in 1912 work began to bury it. Now, a century later, the local Green party wants to bring the river back to life, perhaps as a silver thread flowing through some of the Parisian parks.
Other cities could follow suit. London has a myriad of streams and rivulets that flow into the Thames, and all, like the Bièvre, became little more than stinking ditches. Names such as Bayswater, Knightsbridge and Stamford Brook are clues to where some of them are buried. The Fleet was the biggest and most famous — and for years a stream of filth continued to flow from Fleet Street long after the river was covered over.
Paris now claims that its lost river will help combat climate change, keeping the city cool. It could be an oasis for birds, greenery and wildlife. In reality, only small stretches can be opened up. And London is unlikely to pull down multimillion-pound flats in Knightsbridge to unearth the stream below, though the threat could be a useful way to curb property speculation. Fountains, waterfalls and paddling pools are already proliferating. Will our capitals soon be water wonderlands?
