10.54103/2036-461X/19380
Initially designed at the end of the 18th century to identify the exact location of a fire during the dark hours of the night, the toposcope became in the following decades a tourist attraction device. Thanks most of all to the work of Alpine and Touring Clubs, the presence of these instruments spread throughout Europe under many names (Toposkop, Indicateur des Alpes, Table d’orientation). Alpine regions have been their crib, but they rapidly reached other environments. Wherever there was a good 360° vision of the surroundings, a toposcope could be placed. They constitute a universe that is as connected as varied. The deep time of their technology and their applicative variations also testify a migratory path which resembles many other panoramic devices. The article aims therefore to media-archaeologically trace the major dynamics of the toposcope. Not to uniform them under a homogeneous history, but to reflect upon its role in defining the modern meanings of mobility and virtuality. In that, the toposcope represents an interesting point of view since, unlike many other panoramic devices, it provides for an in situ mediated experience. Sharing some features with Augmented Reality, the toposcope elaborates a different approach to optical immersive experience.
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Matteo Citrini
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Cinéma & Cie. Film and Media Studies Journal
Augmented Reality
Spot the Fire, Amuse the Alpinist. The Toposcope, an in situ Panoramic Device (1790–1910)
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2023-09-22
2022-12-12
2023-09-22
2023-09-22
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Cinéma & Cie
Matteo Citrini
2023/09/22
10.54103/2036-461X/19380
39
University of Udine
2036-461X
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Augmented Reality
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Zielinski, Siegfried. 2019. Variations on Media Thinking. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.
Spot the Fire, Amuse the Alpinist. The Toposcope, an in situ Panoramic Device (1790–1910)
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                                                                                       Spot the Fire, Amuse
                                                                                       the Alpinist.
                                                                                       The Toposcope, an in situ Panoramic
                                                                                       Device (1790–1910)
                                                                                       Matteo Citrini, University of Udine




                                                                                       Initially designed at the end of the 18th century to identify the exact location of a fire            Keywords
                                                                                       during the dark hours of the night, the toposcope became in the following decades a          Media Archaeology
                                                                                       tourist attraction device. Thanks most of all to the work of Alpine and Touring Clubs,
                                                                                                                                                                                             Toposcope
                                                                                       the presence of these instruments spread throughout Europe under many names
                                                                                       (Toposkop, Indicateur des Alpes, Table d’orientation). Alpine regions have been their          Panoramic Gaze
                                                                                       crib, but they rapidly reached other environments. Wherever there was a good 360°              In situ Virtuality
                                                                                       vision of the surroundings, a toposcope could be placed. They constitute a universe          Augmented Reality
                                                                                       that is as connected as varied. The deep time of their technology and their applicative                     DOI
                                                                                       variations also testify a migratory path which resembles many other panoramic devices.        https://doi.org/
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License




                                                                                       The article aims therefore to media-archaeologically trace the major dynamics of the          10.54103/2036-
                                                                                       toposcope. Not to uniform them under a homogeneous history, but to reflect upon its               461X/19380
                                                                                       role in defining the modern meanings of mobility and virtuality. In that, the toposcope
                                                                                       represents an interesting point of view since, unlike many other panoramic devices, it
                                                                                       provides for an in situ mediated experience. Sharing some features with Augmented
                                                                                       Reality, the toposcope elaborates a different approach to optical immersive experience.




                                                                                          Returning from a holiday in the Schinznach Bad spa in Switzerland, the French
                                                                                       illustrator René Lacker published an article in 1895 in which he describes a
                                                                                       device that was installed a few steps from the village and extremely captivating
                                                                                       for passing tourists: the Indicateur des Alpes [Fig. 1]. As Lacker explains:

                                                                                                 The utility of this indicateur is to give tourists the names of the
                                                                                                 mountains they see in the distance, whose uninterrupted extension
                                                                                                 over almost half of the horizon offers a majestic sight. The system
                                                                                                 consists of a semicircular table with the round part facing the
                                                                                                 panorama. On this table there is a ruler that rotates around an axis
                                                                                                 located in the center of the straight side, forming the radius of the
                                                                                                 circumference in which the table is inscribed. On this ruler, above
                                                                                                 the pivot point, there is a viewfinder and at the other end, in the
                                                                                                 direction of the circumference, there is a sight. On the table and in
                                                                                                 the respective directions are engraved the names of the main visible
                                                                                                 mountains. The spectators who want to consult the indicateur must
                                                                                                 stand on the straight side of the table, facing the panorama. With
                                                                                                 the ruler rotating around the axis, they aim at the peak whose name


                                                                                       Cinéma & Cie vol. 23 no. 40 2023 · ISSN 2036-461X                                                          39
Fig. 1
Indicateur des Alpes près
Aarau (R. Lacker 1895).




                                     they want to know, as with a rifle, using the viewfinder and the sight;
                                     in this way they find a name on the table next to the sight: it is that
                                     of the targeted peak (Lacker 1895, 101–02; my translation).

                             Nowadays this kind of device has become widely used all over the world and
                            can be seen in both mountainous areas and cities, as long as the instrument
                            is positioned in a panoramic spot from which one can view a large portion of
                            the surroundings. However, these devices are no longer called Indicateur des
                            Alpes, but it is customary to refer to them as Toposcopes or Table d’orientation
                            (Orientation Tables).



40                                                                    Citrini, Spot the fire, amuse, the alpinist
   Throughout the course of this article, we shall endeavor to show how the
dual terminology of the apparatus is not accidental, but rather refers to what,
after taking up Siegfried Zielinski’s media (an) archaeological terminology, are
its two main variants: the surveillance form (the toposcope) and the tourist
form (the Table d’orientation) (Zielinski 2019). An extensive part of the essay is
devoted to reconstructing the geographical, as well as the applied and formal,
trajectories of these devices throughout the 19th century. Some significant
conclusions emerge: despite the versatility of their appearances and the
fragmentary nature of the sources, toposcopes show a basic coherence that
is built not on technological characteristics but on the relationships that are
established between the observer and the environment being observed. In a
similar manner to other 19th century devices, such as stereoscopes, toposcopes
alter perceptions of a place by bridling the viewer’s vision in order to provide
iconographic coordinates for surveillance, entertainment, and education
purposes (Crary 1990).
   Additionally, this scopic dynamic is intimately linked to the ways in which
multiple coeval panoramic devices virtualize the environment in order to
reconstruct an immersive spatial unity (Oettermann 1980; Huhtamo 2013).
A significant distinction exists, however: the toposcope lingers, despite its
worldwide spread, a device utterly rooted in its real location. Its characteristics
always depend primarily on the morphology and climate in which it is installed.
A toposcope is thus perceived as a panoramic device that gives an impression
of virtualizing an environment while remaining unmistakably in situ: it cannot
be erratic; it can only be native.
   The in situ tag is used in various disciplines (geology, archaeology, surgery...)
to define a phenomenon or a procedure inextricably linked to its context of
origin. Thus, by adopting this definition for toposcopes, we want to place the
emphasis not only on their situated trait, but also on the connection they have
with these disciplines. Particularly with geology, which has repeatedly proved to
be a fertile ground from which to draw for media archaeology. From its German
origins (Kittler 1985; Zielinski 2002) up to present-day reinterpretations of Jussi
Parikka for alternative materialism and deep time of the media (Parikka 2015).
   The gap that is therefore shaped between the virtualizing instance and the
adherence to the real place is relevant not only as a key dynamic for understanding
toposcopes, but also as a parallel to some emerging contemporary phenomena,
i.e. Augmented Reality. As we will see, both of these instances convey an idea of
virtual environment that does not operate by substitution—removing the actual
place—but rather by a superimposition of otherwise invisible data and elements
over the observer’s direct view.
   Lacker’s article is a valuable starting point for studying the phenomenology of
toposcopes since it offers a first trace and starting point for the contextualization
of their variants in the technological panorama of the time: returning to the
passage in which he deals with other devices encountered during his Swiss
tour, Lacker describes the one located on the Lausanne bell tower as follows:
“It had been installed so that night watchmen could recognize in the darkness


Cinéma & Cie vol. 23 no. 40 2023 · ISSN 2036-461X                                       41
     the village or farm where a fire had just broken out, in order to send help there”
     (Lacker 1895, 102; my translation).
       What Lacker believed to be an isolated case was the result of a much more
     complex historical dynamic. This represents the keystone for understanding
     the origin and characteristics of these apparatuses from a media archaeological
     perspective. It begins with the development of night surveillance and fire
     detection instruments, generally known as toposcopes, at the end of the 18th
     century. In the following decades, however, their original function would be
     abandoned and they would be readapted for new uses, mainly of a touristic
     nature, which was then followed by a new nomenclature: Indicateur des Alpes
     in Switzerland and Table d’orientation in France. But under these variations, we
     will see a common, hidden thread: that of the virtualization of environments,
     understood as an enhancement—an “augmentation”—of the human eye’s
     capabilities.



     THE TOPOSKOP: A NOCTURNAL
     SURVEILLANCE DEVICE
       The first traces of the diffusion of the toposcope came around 1790 (Krügelstein
     1799). In the German regions, and in particular in Leipzig, it was thought to
     exploit the combination of a map and a telescope from an elevated position. The
     aim was to solve a longstanding problem: the difficulty of pinpointing, during
     the night, the place of origin of a fire. The basic idea was to build a system
     capable of automatically providing the coordinates of the burning place, simply
     by correctly orienting a viewer towards the light source. It would seem that
     Lorenz Pansner was the first to make such an instrument, which he called the
     Pyrotelegraph.
       For the device to work properly, it was advisable to choose a panoramic
     position, so as to be able to observe the territory undisturbed even from many
     kilometers away. Once the observation point was decided, the instrument had
     to be securely fixed so that it could not move during use. The next phase was
     the transcription of the points of interest in the surrounding landscape on a
     sheet fixed to the quadrant. If these procedures were followed, the observer
     could thus have determined the location of the fire.
       The technology described by Pansner was the same which would later be
     used by other toposcope manufacturers. However, the Pyrotelegraph itself
     still presented too many technical limitations to be of any practical utility. It
     was presumably the numerous difficulties encountered in development that
     discouraged Pansner from continuing his research. His fellow citizen Friedrich
     W. Voigt took on the task, changing the name of the instrument from the less
     incisive Pyrotelegraph to the more pertinent ones of Nachtfeuerkunde or
     Toposcop (Voigt 1803).
       While a still predominantly theoretical study was being carried out in Leipzig,



42                                             Citrini, Spot the fire, amuse, the alpinist
Christoph Kuniß, a Lutheran pastor from the small village of Schwerstedt in
Thuringia, built a personal variant capable of providing relatively satisfactory
results (Krügelstein 1799, 95–99). Kuniß was forced to adopt a novel approach
when he realized it would be impossible to accurately identify a point without
the risk of mistaking it for another one, especially at considerable distances.
He then installed four toposcopes in his study at the top of the bell tower,
one pointing out of each window. Under them, he affixed a composite map not
according to a single scale, but to a progressive relationship. This allowed
him to keep more track of the farthest spots. Despite being satisfied with his
accomplishments, Kuniß was also aware of the unrealized potential of the
toposcope and suggested two critical innovations: the first was the introduction
of a telescope that could facilitate remote observation; the second was the
adoption of a topographical map to immediately find the corresponding place
indicated by the instrument.
  It took about thirty years to build a device that was convenient and precise
enough to be used systematically; not on German territory, but in Vienna,
the capital of the Habsburg Empire (Huysbenz 1879, 20–24). The project was
carried out by the astronomer Karl Ludwig von Littrow who in 1833 established
a system of four toposcopes on the highest tower of Vienna’s St. Stephen’s
cathedral, in the heart of the city [Fig. 2].
  Inspired by the functioning of a theodolite, Littrow manufactured his own
Toposkop, equipping it with a telescope connected to two indicators, which—
when the telescope was pointed towards a surrounding location—moved,
identifying two different digits. Two unique coordinates which, if the device was




                                                                                    Fig. 2
                                                                                    Sketching of
                                                                                    Littrow’s Toposkop
                                                                                    (Huysbenz 1879).



Cinéma & Cie vol. 23 no. 40 2023 · ISSN 2036-461X                                                        43
     correctly anchored to the base, provided the exact combination of a street in the
     city or a place in its neighborhood. With the transition from a single indicator to
     two representing no longer a straight line but a single point, the toposcope was
     finally able to precisely define every visible district.
        Therefore, it was necessary to create a register that indicated an exact
     address, which corresponded to each pair of coordinates. This was done so that,
     when the fire was spotted, the watchman could immediately read the location’s
     name and send the alarm to the nearest fire station.
        The device’s coverage was exceptional and it was said that its only limit
     was the alpine horizon itself. The Toposkop remained the pride of the city for
     several decades. From 1855 the use of the electric telegraph was introduced
     to communicate directly with the authorities. In addition, starting in 1864,
     the tower was connected by telegram to eight peripheral branches (Vienna,
     guida illustrata della città e suoi dintorni 1873, 160–61). Unfortunately, the
     installation—which over the years had also become a tourist attraction—did not
     survive the bombings during the Second World War.
        Although the Littrow version was the most famous and most prominent
     example, toposcopes were also adopted during the 19th century in other European
     locations, such as Strasbourg and Munich. In the Alsatian city, Jean-Baptiste
     and Charles Schwilgué filed the patent for their Toposcope or Chercheur des
     lieux in 1845 but, from the extant sources, it would seem that the apparatus did
     not arouse great enthusiasm (Schwilgué 1857, 115–20).
        An example closer to that of Vienna is to be found in Munich. The device,
     here called the Pyroskop, was designed by the physicist and astronomer Karl
     August Steinheil in 1844. As in the previous cases, the Pyroskop was also
     placed on top of a church tower, in this instance the basilica of St. Peter. This
     version consisted of eight pieces due to the particular architecture of the room,
     equipped with two pairs of windows on each side. Each instrument was aimed
     at the surrounding landscape, using an orientation that allowed it to cover the
     entire horizon (Bachmann 1991, 135–36).
        Contrary to the previous examples, the telescopes were no longer linked to a
     system of indicator hands. Instead, they were connected to a system of mirrors.
     These mirrors, by reflecting the light of a candle, projected a light beam on a
     panoramic image made with a camera lucida and placed just behind the viewer.
     There, the landscape covered by the instrument was represented according to
     a precise ratio. This meant that the point marked by the light beam coincided
     with that observed by the viewer.
        Given the scarcity of sources, it is difficult to get a precise idea of the diffusion of
     toposcopes for night surveillance. Sporadic traces are found in various European
     cities and towns around the middle of the 19th century, but already at the end
     of it we see that they have fallen into disuse. The spread of communication
     tools such as the telephone seems to have made their application obsolete
     and superfluous. Nonetheless, several of these devices remained in panoramic
     spots and a new use was already outlining for them.



44                                                  Citrini, Spot the fire, amuse, the alpinist
THE INDICATEUR DES ALPES: A
MOUNTAIN TOURISTIC DEVICE
  The first and most evident case that attests to the presence of toposcopic
devices in the regions of the Swiss confederation is the Toposkop built in
Lucerne by Louis Meyer, one of the city’s esteemed entrepreneurial figures
and the builder of the Diorama Meyer in 1856 [Fig. 3] (“Das Toposkop des Hrn.
Ludwig Meyer in Luzern” 1852, 75; Schlinke 1853, 84–86). Valuable and detailed
testimony of this instrument has remained:

         Those who wish to reach their destination faster and easily can
         use the toposcope constructed by Captain Louis Meyer of Lucerne
         and placed under the signal post of Kulmes. The invention is so
         ingenious and of such great value for many purposes that it should
         not be overlooked, and a brief description may not be unpleasant
         to the reader. On two tables, one facing south, the other in the
         northern semicircle, is displayed the entire panorama of Rigi, with
         precise outlines and names, the indication of the height above the
         sea, and the distance in a straight line. A mobile telescope is fixed
         above the two tables, to which a pointer in the form of a sliding ruler
         is connected […]. In the future, the toposcope can play an important
         role in military reconnaissance and land surveying. Together with
         the circular color drawn on the board, it conveys simple orientation
         in a very eye-catching way. When we have pointed through the
         telescope at any place and want to know what it is, we only need
         to look at the table, where the pointer tells us what we want to
         know. A similar device on fire watch towers would be of great use.
         On the other hand, if we want to examine more closely a place we




                                                                                   Fig. 3
                                                                                   Poster advertising
                                                                                   Meyer’s diorama (Swiss
                                                                                   National Library).



Cinéma & Cie vol. 23 no. 40 2023 · ISSN 2036-461X                                                     45
              know, we position the needle on the point marked there on the
              table. In this way, the telescope is aimed with the utmost precision
              (Schlinke 1853, 84–85; my translation).

       The device was very similar to the Vienna toposcope from a technological
     point of view. Moreover, the instrument was placed on a similar panoramic
     spot from which the observer could monitor the surroundings. In that setting,
     though, the landscape was no longer the streets and quarters of a city, but
     the Alpine panorama. Unfortunately, the Lucerne toposcope suffered the same
     fate as the others. On July 28, 1852, some mountain guides destroyed the two
     boards and the lack of measures to protect the instrument by Swiss authorities
     prompted Meyer to suspend its restoration.
       Here, however, the emphasis was not at all on the surveillance potential of
     the instrument, but rather on its ability to make the observer appreciate the
     beauty of the landscape. We see a sort of historical reversal: according to this
     and other testimonies, the nocturnal use of the device goes from being its main
     practice to one of its possible reuses. In this new perspective, a toposcope
     can be employed not only to locate fires, but also to sketch panoramas and to
     study the terrain in topographical as well as military terms. The whole Swiss
     experience of these devices is precisely described as one that breaks away from
     their original application, as they become instruments of visual enhancement
     for admiring the Alps. Following this revised meaning, the Swiss variants
     would represent a further “step forward” compared to the Littrow and Steinheil
     toposcopes, since they were characterized by an easier system that allowed for
     the immediate orientation of the viewer and provided the specific name of or
     data about a mountain.
       The redesign of the toposcope for tourist uses and the simplification of the
     device are the two turning points for the diffusion of these instruments in
     numerous Swiss locations during the second half of the 19th century under the
     new name of Indicateur des Alpes, which emphasizes their clear affinity with
     both the Alpine territory and their illustrative function in providing information
     to an observer standing at the foot of the Swiss peaks. The term itself is almost
     coeval with that of the toposcope—at least in the Helvetic context. The lexical
     mixture between Toposcope and Indicateur is also evidenced by a number of
     examples in which the two terms alternate as synonyms (Tschudi 1899).
       In 1882, one of the most significant of these new devices was installed in
     Neuchâtel, near the French border. It was an operation considered to be of
     public value, carried out by the Conseil général de la municipalité. However, the
     construction of it was also entrusted to an expert body: the Swiss Alpine Club. In
     summary, the municipality initially bought the land and then made it available
     to the Club, which was responsible for building, installing, and maintaining the
     indicateur. You can get an idea of the meaning that was attributed to the device
     in the report on the inauguration ceremony, on April 18, 1882:

              Placed on a charming semicircular pedestal, the orientation table
              dominates the area in this place of Chaumont, from which the view


46                                             Citrini, Spot the fire, amuse, the alpinist
         is the widest and most pleasing to the eye [...]. What feeling does
         not seize you when you recognize in the distance, by means of
         landmarks engraved on the table, the peaks on which you have set
         foot, the glaciers you have crossed, the snow-free slopes you have
         climbed. We immediately forget the worries and dangers and think
         only of the radiant horizons of purple snow, the invigorating air that
         we breathe with full lungs, the wonderful carpets of flowers with
         which nature has so richly decorated our Alps, the joyful meals that
         end the days of arduous climbs (“Indicateur des Alpes” 1882, 3; my
         translation).

  Judging from the sources found for other Indicateur constructed during
that period, the method adopted in Neuchâtel, with the cooperation of local
authorities and the Swiss Alpine Club, was the standard procedure (L’Echo des
Alpes 1894, 41).
  It can be said that, towards the end of the 19th century, the phenomenon
spread widely in the alpine regions that were popular tourist destinations, with
particular frequency in the French-speaking ones. The main reason for the
discrepancy between the high number of devices present in Switzerland and the
few that were recorded in neighboring countries is probably to be found not in a
hypothetical technological gap, but rather at a different organizational level: the
high costs and the low (or nonexistent) remunerability of the devices required
the initiative of entities able to cover the costs as well as effective coordination
with local authorities which, initially, was only seen in the territories of the
Confederation. It’s worth noting that there are quite a few notable exceptions,
as exemplified by the Novara Indicatore, the first Italian example (“Speciali
deliberazioni della Direzione Centrale” 1878, 9–10).
  In France, a new phase would start with the entry of a new player: the French
Touring Club, which was able to be active in that country in a very similar
way to the Swiss Alpine Club in Switzerland. As a result, the production and
installation of Indicateur—now mainly referred to as Table d’orientation—
drastically accelerated (Berthelot 1901).



THE TABLE D’ORIENTATION: A
GEOGRAPHICAL EDUCATIONAL DEVICE
  Returning to the article written by Lacker, we can now analyze the reactions
that the text aroused in various readers of “La Nature”. A response was that of
a French traveler, H. Anot, who cited an example of an already existing table
on French territory: in Lyon, at the Fourvière observatory, and which was by
far the most beautiful he had ever seen (Anot 1895). The device is still visible
nowadays, but a detailed description of its original form was provided by an
anonymous citizen of Lyon in a booklet entitled L’observatoire panoramique de
la Basilique de Fourvière (1896).
  The author opens his pamphlet starting with a reflection on Lacker’s article


Cinéma & Cie vol. 23 no. 40 2023 · ISSN 2036-461X                                      47
                          and on the responses aroused to justify his illustrative volume on what he called
                          a Panoramic observatory, which was installed as soon as the construction of
                          the basilica was completed in 1884. The church had been erected on the top of
                          the Fourvière hill, a place historically known for the incomparable landscape
                          that could be admired from there. The device was placed on the top of one of
                          the four towers that stand at the corners of the church. At the tower’s summit,
                          it was possible to accommodate up to one hundred and fifty people between the
                          cross fixed in the center and the external parapet. That was where the finely
                          decorated circular table was placed [Fig. 4].
                             Contrary to the previous examples, the panoramic drawing was the result
                          of a very elaborate artistic operation. However, beyond its particular aesthetic
                          value, the table showed the surrounding landscape as usual, accompanied by
                          the customary cartographic information (altitude of the mountains, bird’s-eye
                          distances, and points of general interest; not to mention the direction of the
                          main cities of the world, from New York to Beijing and from London to Rome).
                             But, if there was no significant compositional difference, the Fourvière table
                          could boast a more sophisticated technological apparatus than the devices
                          generally found in the French territories. Rails were placed above the circular
                          table and a large telescope could roll along them enabling even the most
                          distant peaks to be seen clearly. This powerful device seems to have been so
                          successful that, soon after the inauguration, the administration offered visitors
                          the possibility of renting binoculars from the guards so that they would no
                          longer have to wait their turn at the powerful telescope.
                             In the final pages of the booklet, the author recounts the experience of the
                          panoramic observatory during the Exposition universelle, internationale et
                          coloniale held in Lyon in 1894. Approximately one hundred fifty thousand people
                          climbed to the top of the tower to enjoy the view. However, he explains, with
                          results that were not always satisfactory: “Too often it [the landscape] hides itself
                          under an impenetrable veil of mist, which no telescope can pierce and which
                          offers only its uniformly grey surface to the disappointed curious” (L’observatoire
                          panoramique de la Basilique de Fourvière 1896, 33; my translation). Therefore,




Fig. 4
Portion of a 360° image
of the Observatoire
panoramique de
la Basilique de
Fourvière nowaday.



48                                                                    Citrini, Spot the fire, amuse, the alpinist
despite the fact that it represented the most sophisticated and refined example
of a toposcopic device, the panoramic observatory of Fourvière cannot be said
to have been the most successful since the meteorological conditions represent
a sine qua non for this type of instrument to be properly appreciated.
  The dependence of the usefulness of a toposcope on the surrounding climatic
and morphological factors is further confirmed by the next example. Another
important response to Lacker’s article was, in fact, that of Charles Alban
Fournier, then president of the Vosges Alps section of the French Alpine Club.
Fournier retorted by pointing out that there were already five different Table
d’orientation installed in France, thanks to his section. He explains the many
difficulties involved in installing these tables:

         It was not easy to find a practical solution for this type of tables:
         in Switzerland, where tourists come in droves, especially at well-
         known points, you can make these installations, like the one
         described by Mr. R. Lacker; you can put a guard to watch them and
         charge a fee [...]. In the Vosges, you needed a table that could be
         left and was strong enough to withstand the climate, the rain, the
         snow, the cold, the cattle and also—unfortunately—the man! So, it
         was out of the question to put these delicate apparatuses there. It
         had to be solid, massive, indestructible, so to speak, and free for
         the passersby (Fournier 1895, 170; my translation).

  In the Vosges, the devices are completely isolated and exposed to severe
weather conditions that alter their characteristics. This is why that dynamic
of apparent “simplification” which we witness in the variations from the
surveillance Toposkop to the Table d’orientation is best defined as a process
of eliminating the most vulnerable technical elements. Another fundamental
aspect was the impossibility of obtaining any remuneration from the tourists
who used the tables: this aspect inevitably affected the economic possibilities
for the construction and preservation of the devices.
  With the entry of the French Touring Club, the spread of tables experienced
a significant uptick. At the beginning of the 20th century, the discussions about
the toposcopic phenomenon shifted from proving the legitimacy and value
of constructing these devices, aspects now ascertained given the numerous
appreciations from tourists and Club members, to questioning the most correct
methodology for creating them. For example, the adoption of more systematic
procedures for the construction of the devices began to be proposed. Far from a
simple request precisely because, as we have seen, each location had different
possibilities and different criticalities. Another query was whether or not to
use panoramic photography for the creation of the tables: was it advantageous
to use a photogrammetric method to translate a shot with devices such as
the Panoram Kodak or the Périgraphe instantané into a geographically valid
circular image or was it preferable to stick to the traditional topographic
drawing operations (Eydoux 1905, 84–87)?
  Among the various discussions of these years, perhaps the most significant
was that presented by the French geologist Philippe Glangeaud. He wrote an


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                           article in 1912 in which he reflected on the nature of the Table d’orientation,
                           questioning above all their informative value and the idea of geography they
                           conveyed. He pointed an accusing finger primarily at the habit of accompanying
                           the image exclusively with merely notional information:

                                    It does not seem to me necessary at first to give and keep the
                                    names of all the mountains or hills that are seen, nor their heights.
                                    Both are generally too numerous on any table, which leads to
                                    unnecessarily clogging it up. It would be better to emphasize above
                                    all the main points of the landscape, which are often drowned in
                                    the midst of secondary points. It is not appropriate, of course, to
                                    eliminate all memory issues; but they must be reduced to the
                                    proper level and arouse more of a spirit of curiosity, observation,
                                    thought, and discussion in the public. The current tables do not
                                    accomplish this goal; nor do the guides generally provide the
                                    documentation needed to understand what one is seeing. Above
                                    all, the tables offer only a cold enumeration of names and numbers
                                    (Glangeaud 1912, 251; my translation).

                             The geologist believed that these kinds of tables reflected a contemporary
                           tendency to teach geography merely through the enumeration of information and
                           names. This was when it should instead emphasize the salient characteristics
                           of a region, including its historical, geological and mineralogical aspects. As a
                           result, a morphology of the invisible should be superimposed on the visible,
                           creating not only surplus data (i.e., the height of a visible mountain) but also a
                           way of seeing the landscape in which we can compare current and past forms
                           visually, re-presenting the elements (forests, glaciers...) that have disappeared.
                           To achieve this aim, the tourists must be first of all amazed and then they must




Fig. 5
Banne d’Ordanche’s Table
d’orientation.



50                                                                   Citrini, Spot the fire, amuse, the alpinist
be made to understand clearly a country’s essential characteristics and not so
much a list of names and numbers.
  The suggestion was not only valid on a theoretical level, but had already been
put into practice with the installation of a Table d’orientation in Banne d’Ordenche
in 1911, designed by Glangeaud himself and financed by the Touring Club. On it
one could see not only the infographic description of the visible panorama, but
also the geological one with hatched areas indicating the location of the ancient
and now extinct and eroded volcano of Cantal [Fig. 5].
  In the early 1910s the production of toposcopic devices can ultimately be said
to have reached a new phase: from the many purposes that had characterized
their history in the previous century, a didactic-recreational use was now
emerging that still characterizes them today. From production issues, we
therefore moved on to reflect on the most effective tools to be used (drawing
or photography) and, most of all, on the type of data to be entered (infographic
digits or visual dynamics).



AN IN SITU VIRTUALITY
  The media archaeological reconstruction carried out so far does not claim
to cover everything there is to say about such a rich topic. It merely tries to
elaborate the main features of this multilayered class of dispositives by showing
the resilient properties that constitute a toposcope and, secondly, by using them
to situate it in the constellation of virtuality. From this perspective, we can now
contextualise the toposcopic phenomenon in the paradigm of the virtual gaze as
defined by Anne Friedberg: “Not a direct perception, but one received through
representation” (Friedberg 1993, 2).
  There is a clear tension of re-presenting a landscape in the toposcopic visual
experience, based mainly on a set of practices typical of other panoramic
devices: the use of circular, all-encompassing images and the privilege accorded
to the position of the observer. On this second point, it should be noted that
many of the problems seen for the toposcope resemble those found in many
contemporary (e.g., air balloon observation) and subsequent (drone strategy
in modern warfare) aerial experiences pointed out by numerous recent studies
(Kurgan, 2013; Kaplan, 2018). Indeed, it is the careful positioning of the observer
in a dispositive, that let him contemplate and monitor the surroundings, that
promptly define them as panoramic. Towers, peaks, open-air valleys… all
these sites became part of a virtual architecture of the gaze that stimulates an
enhanced, expanded, and undisturbed way of seeing (Berger, 1972).
  A fundamental corollary of this kind of virtuality is the close relationship
that intertwines between the technological constitution of toposcopes and the
morphological and climatic characteristics of the environment where they are
located. A toposcope design changes more based on their place of operation
than it does for any of their applications: the complex devices of the first cities
became simpler once they reached mountainous terrain, which was less



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                             sheltered and less controlled. It is a device to define specifically as in situ to
                             emphasize the need to deal with circumstances case by case. This is due to their
                             nature as objects that cannot be moved, even by a few centimeters. As Kuniß
                             already understood at the end of the 18th century, toposcopes must always be
                             oriented correctly and then firmly welded into place.
                               In this regard, the in situ qualities of toposcopes complicate the process of
                             representation typical for other panoramic experiences since they do not align
                             in terms of creation of immersive environments. Despite conveying an all-
                             embracing vision of the landscape, toposcopes do not evoke in the observer
                             the same sense of immersion as the coeval pictorial panoramas, in which the
                             elements of presence and distance appeared to be confused, as if the real place
                             had been swapped for the depicted one.
                               Diverging from this, toposcopes compensate for the shortcomings of the
                             human gaze in the same environment that the observer can still see with the
                             naked eye. It is not about creating a new setting, but about making a series
                             of otherwise imperceptible characteristics visible. The distinctive trait of
                             toposcopes remains the same whether used for surveillance, entertainment, or
                             education: they do not create from scratch, but rather enhance the observer’s
                             ability to see. The recurring features in our examples illustrate the will to
                             overcome the limits of the human eye to see into the distance (telescopic
                             lenses), to recognize the identity of places (names of peaks, glaciers…) and to
                             orient oneself (beyond the horizon references). It is indeed a process of visual
                             representation by superimposition.
                               Taking the precautions that every historical parallel demand, the duality of
                             pictorial panorama and toposcope seems to be reminiscent of Virtual Reality
                             and Augmented Reality today. Two particularly significant phenomena in the




Fig. 6
PeakVisor         Mountain
Identification System.



52                                                                     Citrini, Spot the fire, amuse, the alpinist
contemporary media and artistic context (Chan 2014; Pinotti 2021). We refer
to the latter as a set of techniques that use computer-generated information
to enhance or increase our perception of the immediate environment. In Julie
Carmignani and Borko Furht words: “While Virtual Reality (VR) technology […]
completely immerses users in a synthetic world without seeing the real world,
AR technology augments the sense of reality by superimposing virtual objects
and cues upon the real world in real time” (Carmignani and Furht 2011, 3). As
evidenced by many smartphone applications, Augmented Reality makes you
“leave the house” and explore a place firsthand. In particular, there is a number
of AR apps dedicated to identify on-spot mountain profiles, such as PeakVisor,
PeakFinder, and others. They provide a digital translation of the toposcopic
mechanism, rendering terrain model and labeling the peaks around [Fig. 6].
   There is a fundamental difference, though: where toposcopes are confined
in one, fixed spot, these apps are linked to a movable device. The in situ
characteristics so far delineated change now: where the necessary presence
of the observer in the panoramic spot remains, alongside the superimposing
dynamic, the accuracy of the dispositive is no longer granted by its unmovable
quality, but by the ability of photo-cameras to recognize the location. We should
then speak for this kind of AR apps still of a in situ way of seeing, but no more
of an in situ support.
   Nevertheless, AR and toposcopes both prove the potentiality inherent in the
concept of virtuality, not so much as an alternative to reality (creating worlds,
eliminating distances), but as a strengthening, yielding visual force. Glangeaud’s
reflections at the beginning of 1910s moved precisely along this axis. As the
geologist pointed out, adding data and names is only the simplest way to
achieve this enhancement. Toposcopes can be much more. They can provide a
radically different visual approach to landscapes and, consequently, to image
geography and cartography (Castro, 2011). As in the Banne d’Ordenche table,
even the past can thus be present: the observer no longer sees the territory in
its current aspect, but also in its inner and past dynamics. Although no specific
cases have yet been found, it is easy to imagine how these AR apps can serve
the same purpose by linking not only to practices of geographical visualisation,
but also to climatic and ecological emergencies.
   Considering all, the toposcopic phenomenology could really provide many
insights for the contemporary visual scenario. The AR analogy should not be
read from a genealogical perspective: not only is there no evidence of a direct
filiation, but also numerous differences persist between them. The juxtaposition
is quite significant in providing yet another example of how the perceived
virtualization of environments is not exclusive to the digital present-day realm,
but appears in analogous forms in a not-so-recent past. A dynamic that, to take
up another term of geological origin dear to Zielinski, emphasizes the deep time
of a media; the non-linearity and the recursion of both technological solutions
and ways of seeing.




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