Joan Ramon Resina

AFTERWORD: THE TEMPLE AND THE CITY— CONTAMINATIONS OF THE SACRED IN MODERNISTA BARCELONA

Joan Ramon Resina

In his classic study of the institutions of ancient Greece and Rome, Fustel de Coulanges wrote that the ancient city was never the result of gradual accretion but a full-blown foundation. It was created all at once when the families, phratries, and tribes resolved to unite and adopt the same worship (134). Their association was called civitas , and urbs was the place where they came together, “the sanctuary of this association” (134). 1 Characterized by sprawl, multiculturalism, and dispersion, modern cities came into being through densifi cation and overlapping of people unre- lated by kinship or creed. The genealogy of modern cities radically differs from that of their classic ancestors. Or does it? One paradox of Barcelona’s modernization after the 1888 International Exposition was the attempt to model the city according to Fustel’s description of its ancient precursor, for Roman Barcelona had been laid out according to the typical pattern of Roman cities, a system of coordinates formed by two axes, the Cardus Maximus and the Decumanus Maximus, with the forum at their intersection. Today the seats of the Catalan and the municipal governments stand roughly where the Roman forum once was. In this forum was a temple

J. R. Resina () Stanford University, Stanford, CA , USA

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s) 2016 193 A. Cordoba, D. García-Donoso (eds.), The Sacred and Modernity in Urban Spain, Hispanic Urban Studies, DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-60020-2 194 AFTERWORD: THE TEMPLE AND THE CITY—CONTAMINATIONS… dedicated to Augustus, the columns of which can still be seen on a side street. Augustus had turned to Apollo, the sun god, for help in the battle of Actium and had repaid the divine assistance by erecting a sanctuary and a local cult in his honor. After him, emperors adopted the Sol Invictus as their protector and celestial image. In 274 AD, Aurelian made it an offi cial cult of the empire, and the image of the invincible sun appeared in Roman coins until the reign of Constantine. I do not suggest the survival of a pagan cult into the modern era in Barcelona, but I do think that the sym- bolism of the rising sun, adopted by the socially oriented Anselm Clavé for his musical society L’aurora (Dawn) between 1845 and 1850, had a similar psychological motivation. Post-Weberian commentators propose the trivial explanation that the society was named after the time of its daily rehearsal, musicians being factory workers at a time before the eight-hour working day. I fi nd it more plausible that the name of their association was, like the sun in Roman coins, an assertion of confi dence in the vic- tory of a cause, which in Clavé’s case, having been imprisoned two years earlier for participating in popular revolts, could only be the people’s. This hypothesis is supported by the name chosen by Clavé for the expanded association, Spain’s fi rst men’s choral society: La Fraternitat (Fraternity). In relation to the solar cult, Paul Veyne has this to say: “But for the people, the sun evoked rather [than a mystical religion] an emotion; there are testimonies from different periods, of crowds or armies acclaiming the rising sun, the moving spectacle of a cosmic power that envelops us” (211). Early in the twentieth century, Eugeni d’Ors adopted the Italianate term “civiltat” as the key social virtue. This word choice recalled Fustel’s distinction between civitas and urbs , the former being a community of worship and the latter referring to the physical space where the community assembled. D’Ors’s major work, Glosari , is full of articles on civility amounting to a doctrine of social life in the City, which the intellectuals of the new century, the noucentistes , capitalized to emphasize its ideal nature. The city in small caps, real turn-of-the-century Barcelona, was at best an urbs , a space where people pursued their private interests in a chaotic, haphazard, and ultimately subjective way. The incongruity of the modern industrial city with the classic model advocated by Barcelona’s rising intel- lectual class was apparent. The liberal city was inhabited by a diffuse mass of individuals, by monads with discontinuous and often antithetical wills. But these monads were the material out of which a common will might be fashioned if one could only organize the crowds. The motto “from the many, one” pointed the way to the reversal of the urbs into a civitas AFTERWORD: THE TEMPLE AND THE CITY—CONTAMINATIONS… 195 through the emergence of a public spirit. “And fi nally glimpsed,” wrote d’Ors, “the conscious future organizations, the premonition and promise of the day when the multitudes, which are no longer Chaos, will organize; better yet, will coordinate defi nitively as City” (27-III-1906) (Glosari 1906 64). The City still lay in the future; to achieve it was the goal of a new-fangled cultural politics: Noucentisme . The urbs , on the other hand, had already been founded; all at once, in fact, by civil engineer Ildefons Cerdà in the mid-nineteenth century. Turning its back on the old city, Cerdà’s Eixample was an entirely new foundation. Much larger than the old one, it emerged by its side without organic transition. Cerdà had invented the term “urbanism,” and d’Ors responded with the neologism “civiltat.” On blueprint, the new city was rationalistic and socializing. Cerdà divided the Barcelona Plain into orthogonal blocks of similar size to be inlaid with rows of buildings on opposite sides of each block. His city lacked hierar- chical spaces, had no center, only a crossroad at the intersection of the two longest avenues. Because centers do not have justifi cation in Newtonian space, Cerdà did not feel the need to provide for one. In its openness and interconnectedness with global space, the new Barcelona was no sanctuary. D’Ors complained about this secularization, which also was, and could not but be, a privatization of the city. While Greek citizens, he argued, lived in small dwellings with low ceilings in narrow, twisted streets, their city boasted haughty temples built in marble. In contrast, “Barcelona is hardly Greek on this point. Barcelona: a couple of paltry public buildings; one thousand sumptuous homes” (25-V-1916) (Glosari 1916 149). Created in the mid-nineteenth century, an era of romantic subjectivity and bourgeois individualism, the Eixample was eminently unclassic. Its lots had been fi lling with apartment buildings designed according to the whims of owners, or in the fanciful aesthetics of art nouveau. The acme of individualistic intervention in space was the so-called block or apple of dis- cord (the two meanings of the word manzana in Spanish), a reference to the Greek myth in which Paris adjudicates the title of fairest to Aphrodite. In this block, Barcelona residents were invited to decide a contest as awk- ward as choosing between Athena, Aphrodite, and Hera. Because on this block of Passeig de Gràcia, Antoni Gaudí, Lluís Domènech i Montaner, and Josep Puig i Cadafalch, the most eminent Catalan architects, had vied with each other in mastery and originality. But while the well-to-do commissioned buildings from these and lesser architects, d’Ors considered modernista aesthetics tantamount to spiritual 196 AFTERWORD: THE TEMPLE AND THE CITY—CONTAMINATIONS… anarchy. And he began to theorize the need for a classic refoundation of the city. With the news of the San Francisco earthquake, he waxed ecstatic at the prospect of this city being rebuilt rhythmically; that is to say, with the measure of classic proportions:

Build the future City, engineers, architects, construction workers of San Francisco! Make it the world’s most beautiful, the most dazzling in gardens and buildings, on the earth that will shake tomorrow again! Because just with Energy becoming rhythm, just with your Will attaining the completion of the perfect work, eternity will have been created. (26-IV-1906) ( Glosari 1906 95)

Like so many anecdotes in the Glosari , San Francisco was an illustration, almost a metaphor, for the subject that obsessed d’Ors in those early years of the twentieth century. The Bay Area city was another name for the future Barcelona looming in his imagination with the perfection of a work of pure “arbitrarietat” (by which he understood something akin to will power). As if in answer to his desire, a disaster struck Barcelona a few years later. Considered in its impact on the urban tissue, the Tragic Week of July 1909 was an attempt to secularize urban space where Cerdà’s blueprint could not do it, namely in the symbolic tenor of the architecture. In the midst of a rebellion against an unpopular colonial war, groups of rioters went around the city setting churches on fi re and, by the end of the week, they had completely destroyed or ruined scores of them. In the course of attacking a convent, the graves were desecrated and corpses of nuns exposed. Elsewhere, I have discussed this episode in terms of a deliberate attempt to alter the public image of Barcelona. For the sake of expeditious- ness, I quote from what I wrote then: “Because architecture, like urban planning, inscribes social controls in space, each fl aming church revealed an effort to change society by altering its spatial referents. Churches and convents displayed the hierarchy that ordered urban life. Hence, in raz- ing these emblems of ideological domination, the revolutionaries hoped to undo that very hierarchy” (96). Although I pointed out that social struggle failed to entirely account for the incongruous image of exposed corpses in a modern city, I failed to go beyond remarking the shudder that these events produced in the upper classes. I should have described the nature of the abhorrence, not so much as fear of the lower classes as of the primitive aspect of their rebellion, which threatened the very founda- tions of the city. In other words, I should have been wary of explaining the profanation and the transgression of the taboo on death solely by AFTERWORD: THE TEMPLE AND THE CITY—CONTAMINATIONS… 197 reference to class. Grotesque as it may seem, there was a rational element in such behavior. The riffraff who dragged the corpses out of their graves and displayed them in the street were convinced that they had recovered evidence of torture in the convents. For this reason, they brought the corpses to the City Hall and presented them to the municipal authorities. Naïve though it was, this demarche does not support the notion that the rioters were asocial monsters. Clearly, they wanted offi cial sanction for their anticlerical myths. Even so, this spontaneous show of submission to the opinion of authority in the City Hall in the midst of a full-blown revolt does not account for the macabre scenes that ensued. It does not explain the dragging of exhumed cadavers through the streets or a man’s dancing with the parched corpse of a nun in a danse macabre of archaic inspiration. The sudden change of mood regarding the respect that death ordinarily inspires in the populace is striking. Only seven years earlier, in 1902, the popular classes of Barcelona had massively accompanied the bier of poet- priest Jacint Verdaguer in one of the most attended funerals in Barcelona’s modern history. The majority of those paying the last honors to Verdaguer had never read his poetry, yet were awed at the disappearance of the man who embodied the clash between the powerless and the powerful. He had come to be seen as a rebel in his denunciation of the vicious alliance between church and capital in the concrete, tangible, and consequential sphere of his own life. And concrete examples of defi ance capture the popular imagination far more than doctrinal tirades. Feeling wronged by his former protector, the wealthy Marquis of Comillas, and convinced that his superior, the Bishop of Vic, intended to confi ne him to an asylum in order to please the Marquis, Verdaguer reacted by publishing an elo- quent—his enemies said hysterical—denunciation. In 1895, and again in 1897, a series of articles in self-defense appeared in El Noticiero Universal and La Publicidad , addressed to “the honest people of Barcelona.” These articles, the fi rst spate of which also appeared as a small book published by L’Avenç in 1895, prompted the religious authority to retaliate until the affair reached enormous proportions, dividing opinion along political lines. Conservatives sided with the hierarchy, while the popular classes identifi ed with the lowly priest in whom they saw a victim of the same powers that oppressed them. From the unprecedented demonstration of esteem at Verdaguer’s funeral to dragging corpses of nuns through the streets, the change in the crowd was so blatant that it begs the question: what is the status of the sacred in modernity? Is it anything more than a metaphor for social 198 AFTERWORD: THE TEMPLE AND THE CITY—CONTAMINATIONS… unity? If the ancient city came into being by unifying private worship, does modern society invert the terms, eliciting a civic theology from the bowels of a confl icted city? In the most memorable reaction to the Tragic Week, “L’esglèsia cremada” (The Torched Church), the great modernista poet Joan Maragall turned the image of the vandalized church into a metaphor of the ravaged city. The ruined place of worship was ostensibly the work of an uncivil mob, he said, but the wrecking of the building was consequent on the uncivil egotism of the ruling class, whom Maragall denounced as “the other … conservative mob” (Benet 200). Himself a devout Catholic, he deplored the profanation, but realized that the church had been used as a stand-in for the powers that ruled the city and decided its exclusions. He understood that without a sanctuary of civility and transcendental harmony, the city could not exist. Then, he made an unprecedented move. Asserting that the violation of the temple had been the mob’s reaction against their exclusion, he asked his class fellows to turn the building over to the lower class, inviting the arsonists to rebuild the church in their own fashion. Only then, he said, would they consider it their own. Maragall denounced the somnolence of a ruling class that lived in a state of denial. Their church, he said, was founded on the false ideal of peace in the world. But the peace of Christ, he claimed, is not of this world. This world is war, and by denying its intrinsic confl ict, the ruling class had provoked the blasphemy and violence of the mob. Then, he continued, the church, persecuted, trampled on, smoky, bloodstained, and ruined, was once again the natural church of Christ (Benet 200). 2 Do not rebuild its ruins, he warned his readers, do not wash off the blood, do not apply balm to the pain, because these are the best enticements for malcontents and for those who suffer: “the bad, if you want to call them bad, because you may not realize how fi tting is the double sense of this word, which has Mourning at its root” (203). 3 Mourning, that is to say, affl iction from a loss and, also, the public manifestation of the affl iction. Maragall addressed his refl ection to a collective that needed to work out its affects by coming to terms with the experience of violence and loss. Something essential had broken in bourgeois Barcelona’s self- image, and he warned against the temptation to rebuild it, for doing so would amount to repressing the evidence of a deeper truth and would prepare a future, bigger explosion of hatred. Reinforcing their idea of the sacred, entrenching behind the taboo, and deepening the rift between the two senses of the word “dolent,” the ruling class would merely enhance the power that had overwhelmed it when the city came apart during the AFTERWORD: THE TEMPLE AND THE CITY—CONTAMINATIONS… 199 last week of July. For, as René Girard observed, “the sacred consists of all those forces whose dominance over man increases in proportion to man’s effort to master them” (31). Yet the temptation was too strong. Shaken to its roots by the primitive aspect of the revolt, the upper class clamored for retaliation. Maragall’s article, published after delays and mandatory adjustments in La Veu de Catalunya on December 18, 1909, one full month after its composition, was clearly at odds with the offi cial position, represented by Eugeni d’Ors in an article of October 23 in the same newspaper. In “El problema del mal a Catalunya” (The Problem of Evil in Catalonia), d’Ors had raised the question in Hegelian fashion, fi rst as a universal problem and then as a particular one. Why, he asked, do the works of evil, which in other countries are private crimes, take the form of political crimes in Catalonia? Of crimes against the Polis? Without answering his own question—perhaps because he took the answer for granted—he went on to debate the solutions to the problem. Doubtlessly, with Maragall’s position in mind, he asked rhetorically: “Augmentation of love, suffering of pain, sentimental solutions?,” and replied: “Well, this in any case for the fi rst problem; we would consider it, we would discuss it. … But our urgent, our immediate problem is the second one! And its solution cannot be sentimental but civic. It must have body, a concrete form. It must hinge not on resignation but on action. Not in a suggestion but in a formula. And despite the best of wills, it cannot lead to peace yet but to struggle” ( Glosari 1908 634). Reserving “sentimental solutions” to the generic problem of crime and refusing them for the practical reestablishment of order in Barcelona, d’Ors was undoubtedly countering Maragall’s under- standing of the connection between harmony and compassion (a word that means ‘suffering together’) and rejecting his plea for intercession. Trying to save the life of anarchist educator Francesc Ferrer i Guàrdia, the scapegoat for the events of the Tragic Week, Maragall had written another article, “La ciutat del perdó” (“The City of Forgiveness”), on October 10 and submitted it to La Veu de Catalunya on the same day. As soon as the text reached the pressroom, it was set and proofs were sent to Prat de la Riba, the journal’s editor and president of Barcelona’s provincial Council, who suppressed it. Even so, the paper’s insiders must have learned about the tenor of the article. The affair was not a minor one. Maragall was Barcelona’s most infl uential writer; to censor him was nothing short of a scandal. It can only be explained by the extraordinary circumstances. Publishing his article 24 hours before the meeting of the cabinet that was 200 AFTERWORD: THE TEMPLE AND THE CITY—CONTAMINATIONS… to decide on the petition of pardon for Ferrer i Guàrdia, Prat would have seemed to be pressing the government for lenience on anarchism, as he explained to Maragall in a self-justifi catory letter (Benet 165). Ferrer was executed on October 13. D’Ors’s attitude was less conciliatory than Prat’s. For him the events of the Tragic Week were proof of an irreducible struggle. He also envisioned a refoundation, but his archetype was not Maragall’s community of agape but the ancient city, defi ned by a rigid class structure. “Without convert- ing Democracy into Aristocracy a city cannot be founded.—This truth is not mine: it was formulated by the Greeks, inventors of the City” (18- VIII-1909) (Glosari 1908 574). The contrast between these two models and the implications of Maragall’s conception of the city as sanctuary—as a place of common worship but also in the sense of asylum—was perfectly understood by Miquel dels Sants Oliver, co-editor of La Vanguardia , who said of “L’esglèsia cremada”: “What a sublime work, through which fl ows something like an ecstasy of the primitive orans in the quiet fervor of the Catacombs, with all the generative virtue of martyrdom and purifi cation through suffering that redeems and transfi gures” (qtd. in Benet 205). The reference to the ecstatic posture of the orans fi gures suggests otherworldly compassion. The female orans engraved on early Christian tombs is said to represent the soul of the deceased, praying for its friends or relatives on earth. With this reference Oliver was alluding to the fact that Maragall’s attempt to help those in the worldly sphere of politics took place in an environment of persecution, with arrests taking place after the government declared martial law. But the reference to the catacombs, the underground of the imperial city, also hinted at the imperialist doctrine expounded by d’Ors in countless articles and adopted by Prat de la Riba in his political primer, La nacionalitat catalana (The Catalan Nationality), three years earlier. Since the turn of the century, Barcelona’s underground had been associated with the anarchist movement, whose lurid anticlericalism was not extraneous to the events of July. And now Maragall was proposing a religious refoundation of the city by the mutinous masses. When he urged his upper class readers to turn over the temple to the poor and outcast, did he have in mind Christianity’s takeover of the Roman Empire? Oliver might have been thinking of precisely this transformation when he mentioned the generative and not merely regenerative virtue of martyrdom and suffering. But did Maragall dream of a transfi gured anarchism that could rise to conscious civility after shaking an egoistic bour- geoisie out of its torpor through the shock of social violence? AFTERWORD: THE TEMPLE AND THE CITY—CONTAMINATIONS… 201

In essence, he proposed a Christological mediation in and through the city. Revolution was not the cause but the breakout of a preexisting polarization whose symptoms had been all too visible in the anarchist attacks against the Corpus Christi procession on Canvis Nous Street on June 7, 1896 and at the opera house on November 7, 1893, the latter being the subject of one of Maragall’s poems and of a relief by Gaudí on the Nativity façade of the Sagrada Família. For the city to survive such polarization, Maragall suggested the institution of a new worship based on the mutually infl icted suffering so that the city would be refounded upon the experience of the confl ict. When he advocated turning over the broken church, without doors or roof, full of dust and fl ies, to the poor, he was probably inspired by the unfi nished Sagrada Família, which an ascetic Gaudí called “the cathedral of the poor,” and of which a paint- ing by Joaquim Mir existed since 1898, showing the social derelict in the foreground. Carl Schmitt wrote that “a city obtains its historical rank through its graves” (36). Barcelona may not have graves as resonant as Berlin’s, but those enjoying any notoriety are monuments to rebellion and resistance. Foremost among them, el Fossar de les Moreres, the city’s ancient burial ground attached to Santa Maria del Mar. This space was used as a mass grave for the fallen during the city’s siege in 1714 and remains a place of commemoration. In 1821, King Ferdinand VII, great grandson of Philip V, ordered it paved over to obliterate the memory of the city’s resistance to the founding member of his dynasty. Today, the grave of Lluís Companys in Montjuïc, near the spot of his execution, is the main icon for contem- porary Catalonia’s historical memory. In 1909, the moat of the Montjüic castle where Companys was shot had been the stage for the execution of Ferrer i Guàrdia, sacrifi cial victim for the events of the Tragic Week. A sacrifi ce performed, as Maragall well understood, on the altar of a pagan god. If the sacred, derived from Latin sacer , is, as Rudolf Otto argued, not a moral category but one related to feeling-response in the presence of the “awful”; if it is a dread of the uncanny “not found in the case of any natural fear or terror” (16), then we have to ask whether the modern city contains traces of the feeling of creaturely helplessness before “the abso- lute superiority or supremacy of a power other than myself” (21). I would hazard that the mysterium tremendum of which Otto speaks depends on the intuition of the potential annihilation of the self and, thus, relates to the grave as the monument humanity has erected to personal annihilation. This would explain the narrow connection between graves 202 AFTERWORD: THE TEMPLE AND THE CITY—CONTAMINATIONS… and shrines on the one hand and the signifi cance of graves for the foundation of cities, and not just for the historical importance they attain. In Roman Barcelona, the perimeter around Mount Taber, that is to say the area just outside the walls, was a large cemetery. Later, the Christian city re-signifi ed the urbs by means of the relics of St. Eulalia, a girl mar- tyred in Barcelona during the persecution of Diocletian. Buried in the church of Santa Maria del Mar, her remains were later transferred to the cathedral that was dedicated to her in the fourteenth century. But if modern Barcelona retained a connection with the sacer , with the sense of the power that emanates from the grave and defi es rationality and ethics, it was mostly through the eruptions of violence that periodi- cally engulfed the city and drenched it in holy ire. The promiscuity of the dead with the living, manifest in the gruesome dancing with the mummy of a nun, threw open the vision of the mysterium tremendum , placing the rebellion beyond the pale of the merely social and in the realm of awful fascination proper to the sacred. That is why Maragall responded with the gospel of a new civility, and d’Ors with the demand for martyrdom for reason of empire, while Prat, prefect of the province, acquiesced in the name of convenience. The execution of Ferrer i Guàrdia, founder of the modern school and advocate of lay education, gave Barcelona the modern martyr it needed for its refoundation as the holy city of world anarchism, a reputation it would sustain for years to come.

NOTES 1. Here and elsewhere, translations are my own. 2. I quote from the original version, published by Josep Benet. The version published in La Veu de Catalunya was slightly modifi ed by the editors, as was the version revised by Maragall and included in the Collected Works . 3. In Catalan, dolent means both “bad” or “evil” and “grieving.” The root dol means “mourning.”

WORKS CITED Benet, Josep. Maragall i la Setmana Tràgica . Barcelona: Edicions 62, 1975. D’Ors, Eugeni. Glosari 1906–1907 . Ed. Xavier Pla. Barcelona: Quaderns Crema, 1996. D’Ors, Eugeni. Glosari 1908–1909 . Ed. Xavier Pla. Barcelona: Quaderns Crema, 2001 AFTERWORD: THE TEMPLE AND THE CITY—CONTAMINATIONS… 203

D’Ors, Eugeni. Glosari 1916. Ed. Xavier Pla. Barcelona: Quaderns Crema, 1992. Fustel de Coulanges, Numa Denis. The Ancient City . Garden City: Doubleday, n.d. Girard, René. Violence and the Sacred . Trans. Patrick Gregory. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins UP, 1972. Otto, Rudolf. The Idea of the Holy . Trans. John W. Harvey. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1958. Resina, Joan Ramon. “From Rose of Fire to City of Ivory.”After-Images of the City . Ed. Resina and Dieter Ingenschay. Ithaca: Cornell UP, 2003. 75–122. Schmitt, Carl. Ex Captivitate Salus . Berlin: Duncker und Humblot, 2010. Verdaguer, Jacint. En defensa pròpia . Ed. Narcís Garolera. Barcelona: Tusquets, 2002. Veyne, Paul. Quand notre monde est devenu chrétien (312–394). Paris: Albin Michel, 2007. INDEX

A Amenábar, Alejandro, 160 abjection, 79–95 and Abre los ojos , 141, 160, 161 Agamben, Giorgio anarchism, 199, 200, 202 and bare life, 101, 103–5, 110, 114, Antichrist, 120, 121, 126, 127, 160 115, 116n2 anticlericalism, 200 and biopolitics, xvi, xxi, xxvin5, 102 Arendt, Hannah, xix and homo sacer , xxi, 101–6, 111, arresting images, 128, 129, 131 112, 114 asceticism, xx and profanation, xxii, xxiv, 90, 123, Augé, Marc 140, 142, 196, 198 and non-places, 146 and sacred life, 100, 104, 112 and supermodernity, 146 and sovereign (power), 100–3, 107, Axial Age, 158, 159, 168, 170, 173 112–15, 116n5, 127, 130 and state of exception, 104, 110, 112 and thanatopolitics, 102, 111, 115 B Alarcón, Pedro Antonio de, xviii, 22, Bachelard, Gaston, 157 27, 38n13 Barba, Andrés, 119, 166 and “La mujer alta,” 22, 27–32, and La hermana de Katia , xxii, 163, 38n12 166, 167, 169, 171 Alas, Leopoldo (Clarín), 37n4 Barcelona Álvarez Mendizábal, Juan, 24 . See also and Barcelona pavilion, 68, 70, 71, 73 desamortización and Barrio chino (Raval), 90

Barcelona (cont.) and Lévi-Strauss, 128, 132 and Carrer Gran, 93, 94 Cánovas del Castillo, Antonio, 8 and City Hall, 197 capitalism, xvii, xix, xxi, xxii, 3, 42–6, and Eixample, xvii, xviii, xxvii, 95 51, 57, 120, 122, 124–6, 128, and Gothic Cathedral, 26, 76n20, 130–2, 134, 135n4, 140–2, 144, 91, 122, 124, 133 145, 147, 164 and 1888 International Exposition carceral institutions, 100, 102, 106, of , 193 109, 117n9 . See also prison and 1929 International Exposition cars, 147 . See also transportation of , 61 Casanova, José, xiv, xv, xxii and Montjuich, 91, 96n7 Castro, Carlos María de, 3 . See also and Poble Espanyol, xix, 62, 63, 70, Ensanche; Madrid 71, 73 cathedrals, xxiii, 53 and the Tragic Week of 1909, xxiii Catholic Church, xxvin4, 6, 23, 148, Barcelona Municipal band, 8, 9 151, 159 Baudelaire, Charles, 96n6, 152 Catholicism, xv, 24, 42, 48, 148, 151, Bellah, Robert, 158, 170 161–3, 168, 172 Benidorm, 145, 164, 165 centralization, xvi, 11, 51, 180 Benjamin, Walter Cerdà, Ildefons, xvii, xvii, 195, 196 . and capitalism, 45, 135n4 See also Barcelona; Eixample and fl âneur , 88–90, 96n6, 152 Certeau, Michel de Berman, Marshall, 23 and solar eye, 124, 145 Bidagor, Pedro, xvi and space of enunciation, 44 biopolitics, xvi, xxi, xxvin5, 102 and walking, xxviin6, 42–4, 51, 56, Bluebeard, myth of, 122, 128 96n6, 130, 145, 147 body charity and abjection, 80–3, 85, 86, 88–90, and aristocracy, 11, 41, 43, 45, 52, 92, 95 53, 55, 200 and autopsy, 150, 151 and Catholic Church, 6 and decay, 11, 140, 151 and Madrid municipal board, 9 Bordieu, Pierre Chirbes, Rafael and social distinctions, 50 and Crematorio , xxii, 139–54, and symbolic capital, 43 163–5 and taste, 47, 64, 65, 75n8, 81, 187 and En la orilla , 163, 165–7 Bourbon Restoration of 1874, 8 . cityscape, xiv, xx, 22, 27, 32, 34, 35, Burke, Edmund, 25, 26 80, 82, 83, 88, 92, 93, 96n9, 119, 121, 124, 125 Ciudad del Movimiento, La , 105 C civitas , 193, 194 Caillois, Roger, 3, 38n11 civitas dei , 113, 115 Callahan, William, 6, 24, xxvin4 Clavé, Anselm, 194 cannibalism consecration, 49, 52, 100, 104 and capitalism, 122, 128, 130–2, Consejo Superior de Investigaciones 135n5 Científi cas (CSIC), 109, 114 INDEX 207 consumption, xix, xx, xxi, 43, 47, 52, epiphany, xiv, 96n8 58, 120, 121, 129–31, 133, 134, exceptionalism, xv 134n3, 135n4, 173, 182 exhumation, 140, 143, 154 contamination, xviii, 6, 46, 80, 111, 193–202 convent , 24, 48, 53, 89, 113, 165, 196 F Counter-Reformation, 151 Falange, 105 cremation, 148–50 fantastic genre/literature, 22, 26, 27, 2008 crisis, 141, 153, 163 38n10, 38n11 Critchley, Simon, xxvin5, 126 fashion CSIC . See Consejo Superior de and Benjamin, Walter, xiv, xviii, Investigaciones Científi cas (CSIC) 45, 135n4 and Simmel, Georg, xiv, xxiii, 3 Ferrer i Guàrdia, Francesc, 199, D 201, 202 Derrida, Jacques fetishism, 129 and messianic, xv, 126, 127, 134, 172 fetishization, 52, 130 and religion, xiii, xxvin1, 123, 126 fl amenco, xviii, 5 and sovereign, xxvin5, 127 fl ânerie , xiv, 89, 93, 95 desamortización , xv, 24, 48 Foucault, Michel desarrollismo , 142 and biopolitical modernity, desecration, 139, 147 xxi, 99–115 deterritorialization, xix, 159 and desanctifi cation, xiv De Vries, Hent, xiii, xxvin1 and thanatopolitics, 102, 111, 115 Dilthey, Wilhelm, 107, 108 Franco, Francisco, xix, x, xi, 34, 41–3, disenchantment, xiv, xiii 46, 47, 51, 55, 96n8, 101, 106, disentailment, xv, 24, 37n5, 42, 44 . 107, 117n9, 148, 164, 195, 196 See also desamortización Francoism, xxi, 99–101, 103, 113, 115 domestic space, 5, 80, 87, 88 Freud, Sigmund, 29, 85 D’Ors, Eugeni, xxiii, 194–6, 199, and the uncanny, xxi, 22, 26, 29, 200, 202 34–6, 38n10, 80, 82, 84, 85, Douglas, Mary, 2, 6 94, 129, 130, 132, 150, 201 Durkheim, Émile, 125, 169, 171 fundamentalism, religious, 159 Fustel de Coulanges, Numa Denis, 193

E Eixample, xvii, xviii, 195 G Eliade, Mircea, 3 gardens, xx, 66, 68–70, 90, 91, El tiempo entre costuras (TV series), 96n7, 196 177–91 Gaudí, Antoni, 195, 201 Enlightenment, 24, 27, 38n11, 41, and Sagrada Família, 201 102, 148 Geertz, Clifford, 169, 171, 174, 175n7 Ensanche, xviii, 3, 21, 23, 25, 37n2, 45 . General Land Use Plan for Madrid, See also Madrid xvi . See also Bidagor, Pedro 208 INDEX

Giménez Caballero, Ernesto, xvi K Girard, René, 198 Kahn, Paul, xv globalization, xxii, 121, 124, 127, Kant, Immanuel, 21, 25, 26, 38n9, 133 159, 166 Kierkegaard, Søren, 180, 181 Granada Kristeva, Julia and Holy Week, 120, 131, 132 and abjection, xx, 79–95 and Sierra Nevada, 121, 133 and the place of the subject, 79 Grosz, Elizabeth, 81, 86 and the sacred, xiv, xix, xiv, xxvi, xvi, Gutiérrez, Pablo, 166–9, 173 xiii, xxiii, xxvin2, 12, 89, 91–2, and Nada es crucial , xxii, 163, 121, 131, 177, 190 166–8, 170–2, 174

L H Laforet, Carmen, 79, 83 Haussman, Baron von and Nada , 79 and éventrement , 152 Le Corbusier, 71, 74 and haussmannization , 152 Lefebvre, Henri, xx, xxi, xxviin6, 122, Holy Week, 120, 131, 132 124, 125, 128, 130, 157, 158, 174 housing bubble, 142, 165 Lévi-Strauss, Claude, 128, 132 Hunger, 79, 84, 85, 92, 95n1, 95n3, Lewis, C. S., 56 96n6, 101, 130 Loriga, Ray and abjection, 79–95 and Lo peor de todo , 162 hybridization, 43, 48, 50, 66 and Tokyo ya no nos quiere , 162 hygiene, xviii, 1–17 Lynch, Gordon, 2

I M Iglesia, Álex de la, xvii, xxi, 119–34 Madrid and El día de la bestia xvii, xxi, and Atocha Station, 24, 25, 37n6 119–34, 141, 160, 175n6 and Barrio de Salamanca, xix, 12, 90 immigration, xvii, 5, 45, 120, 133, and Canal of Isabella II, 24 162, 163, 171 and Capitol building, 124, 125 infrastructure, xvi, xviii, xix, 21, 25, and casa de corredor , 45 35, 62, 74n1 and El Escorial, 114 Isabella II, 24 and Gran Vía, xxiii, 124, 125, 183, Islam, 140, 159, 165, 170 186, 191 and KIO Towers, 119, 124, 125, 130, 160 J and Model Prison, 13 James, William, 54 and Picasso Tower, 160 Jameson, Fredric and Puerta de Europa, 125 and protagonicity, 51 and Puerta del Sol, 16, 25, 37n7, and utopia, 121, 125, 127, 130, 49, 51 135n4, xvii, xviii and Retiro Park, 12, 45, 127 INDEX 209

and Vallecas, 106, 112, 116n6 multitude, xxiii, 177–91, 194 and Valle de los Caídos, 106 Muslisms . See Islam Madrid Municipal Band, 9 mysticism Maragall, Joan, xxiii, 198–202, 202n2 and desiertos carmelitanos , 68, 69 Martín Cuenca, Manuel, xxi, 119–34 and St. Teresa, 66, 68 and Caníbal , xxi, 119–34 Martín-Santos, Luis and “Libertad, temporalidad y N transferencia en el psicoanálisis National-Catholicism, xv, 24, 42, 148, existencial,” 108 162, 163 and Tiempo de silencio xxi, 100, 101, noise , xviii, 2, 4–7, 13, 17, 72 106, 107, 109, 115, 116n4 Noucentisme , xxiii, 65, 195 Marx, Karl, 43, 52, 130 mass media, 128, 178, 180, 182, 183, 191 O memory , xiv, xx, xxii, 68, 71, 94, 95, Oller, Narcís, xvii, xix 99, 143, 149, 150, 201 Otto, Rudolf Merleau-Ponty, Maurice, 181, 182 and creature feeling, xix, 21, 25 messianic, xv, 126, 127, 134, 172 and mysterium tremendum , 25–8, Mies van der Rohe, Ludwig, xix, 63, 68 30, 36, 201, 202 military bands, 8–10, 16 and numinous, xix, 21, 22, 25–8, mirror, xx, 67, 68, 72, 73, 76n17, 31, 32, 35, 36 83–5, 90, 92, 94, 115, 153, 185 15M movement, 141 Modernisme , xxiii P modernity, xiii, xiv, xv, xvi, xvii, xix, pagan, 168, 194, 201 xxi, xxii, xxviin7, 4, 21–5, 27–37, Pardo Bazán, Emilia, 27, 37n4, 38n12 39n14, 41–3, 48, 49, 53, 56–8, Pérez Galdós, Benito 62, 64–7, 71, 89, 96n6, 99–116, and “Celín,” 22, 32–7 117n11, 121–5, 131–4, 141, and Doña Perfecta , 37n8 144, 146, 148, 152, 174n1, 197 and the Torquemada series , xix, 41–58 modernization, 23, 34, 37, 39n14, 48, Pérez-Reverte, Arturo, 161 62, 65, 99, 121, 123, 193, xiii, and La piel del tambor , 161 xiv, xv, xvi, xxvin1 Pi i Margall, Francesc, 15 money , 29, 44, 46–52, 55–8, 62, 164, Poble Espanyol . See Barcelona 165, 172, 185, 188 Polavieja, General Camilo, 15, 16 Montero, Rosa, 96n8, 141 political theology, xv Moretti, Franco post-secular, xiii, xx and capital personifi ed, 43 Prat de la Riba, Enric, 199, 200 and national malformation, 42, 57 Primo de Rivera, Miguel mourning , 113, 140, 143, 148, 198 and Catholicism, xv, 24, 42, 48, Muguruza, Pedro, 105 . See also 148, 151, 161–3, 168, 172 Ciudad del Movimiento, La and Patronato Nacional de Turismo, 61 210 INDEX

prison , 8, 13, 92, 96n7, 101, 109 soundscape, urban, 1, 2, 13 Puig i Cadafalch, Josep, 64, 195 sovereign, xv, xvi, xxi, xxvin5, 15, 100–7, purging, 145 109, 111–15, 116n5, 117n9, 127, purifi cation , 88–95, 123, 126, 149, 200 130–1, 134, xv, xvi, xxi, xxvin5 Spanish Civil War, 178, 187 street musicians, 1, 3, xviii R Sublime, the, xiv, 21–37, 38n9, 91, railroads . See transportation 121, 133, 134n3, 200 Rancière, Jacques, 102, 127 suffering and biopower, 102, 105, 106, 111, and experience of, 69, 79–83, 86–90, 112, 114, 117n9 149, 158, 159, 170, 173, re-enchantment, xiv 174n1, 191, 198, 201, xxiii religious turn, xiii and spaces of, xx, 48, 71, 80, 89, Revolution of 1868, 11, 12, 14 90, 94, 95, 126, 154n1, 157, Rilke, Rainer Maria, 178, 179 160, 170 Rodoreda, Mercè, 79, 80, 83–6, 88, 93, 96n6 and La plaça del Diamant , xx, 79–95 T television, x, xvi, xxiii, 177, 178, 180, 183 S Tétouan, xxiii, 187–91 sacratio , xxi, 99–115 thanatopolitics, 102, 111, 115 sacrifi ce, xxi, xxiii, 52, 103, 104, 106, Toro, Suso de 114, 122, 130, 132, 133, 159, and Calzados Lola , 161 183, 201 and Trece campanadas , 161 San Bernardino workhouse band, tourism, xvii, xx, 61, 62, 74n3, 134, xviii, 5 143, 145 Schmitt, Carl, 116n1, 201 Tragic Week of 1909, xxiii and sovereign, xv, xvi, xxi, xxvin5, 15, trains . See transportation 100–7, 109, 111–15, 116n1, transcendence, xx, xxii, 88–95, 126, 116n5, 117n9, 117n11, 127, 127, 130, 147, 148 130, 131, 134 Transition, x, xvi, 4, 47, 48, 99, 101, secularization, xv, 4, 37, 41, 44, 162, 180, 187, 195 58, 124, 130, 140, 142, 160, transportation 168, 195 and cars, 147 Seville, 61, 161 and railroads, railway, trains, 4, 21, 24, and 1929 International Exposition 25, 30, 33–5, 37n8, 53, 57, 188 of , 61 trauma, xxiii, 86, 95n3, 99, 143, 145, Simmel, Georg 151, 191 and blasé, xiv, 4 Trueba, David, 141, 166 and intellectualistic mentality, 46 and Saber perder , xxii, 141, 163, and “The Philosophy of Fashion,” 181 166–8, 170, 171 INDEX 211

U W Unamuno, Miguel de, 168 walking, xxviin6, 42–4, 51, 56, 130, uncanny, the . See Freud, Sigmund 145, 147, xxviin6 urban development, xviii, 21, 25, 140, Weber, Max, 158 146, 163 Weimar Germany, xx urbanization, xxii, 26, Williams, Raymond, 54, 173 141, 166 and structure of feeling, 54 urbs , 28, 193–5, 202 Wirth, Louis, 3 and blasé outlook, 4

V Vattimo, Gianni, xiii, xxvin1 Z Veblen, Thorstein, 47 Zambrano, María, xx Velvet (TV series), 177–91, xxiii Zara , 178, 186, 187 Verdaguer, Jacint, 197 Žižek, Slavoj, 127