New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1867-04-16
FOREIGN CORRESPONDENCE.
EN1NG DAY OF THE GREAT PARIS EXPOSITION.

OPENING DAY OF THE GREAT PARIS EXPOSITION.
PARIS April l, 1867.
Out of the dust of the innumerable crowd-that
Malthusian world in which the journalist moves for
ever-I have come to put my pen across the fulcrum
of my nkstand, and heave all of the Great Exhibi-
ton il can lift across the ocean for you TO see.
Place yourself in the brightest city of the world
on its brightest Monday morning Winter, long and
stormy has raned its last. An April without showers
lifts every gauze from the sun, that he lights up
the broad bOulevards, and the fresh green river
Seine and shows every current setting for the Champ
6e Mars When you climb TO your house-tOp TO
follow the great eternal caravans of men and
wains and banners, you see around you the city of
Paris, the home Of two millions of people floating
over the unduatOns of pleasant plain through the
middle of which, lengthwise curves a stream as
clear as CrotOn Lake no wider than the Passae and
which, in its beautiful inutility winds through 800
miles of France without tide or a sail. OF the two
unequal parts in which it bisects Paris the greater
is the Northern, where you stand, set against
phitheater of hills populous to their submits, and
bounded in the vast level tract to the river by
two proud monuments, three miles apart. The one
is the Arch of Triumph TO commemorate the glory of
the original BOnaparte, and built by him to honor
that one Of his wives he imported to bear his chill
dren the other is the shaft raised by the Republican
people on the site of the Bashle, when they had
driven the last GcentiOus and bloody Bourbon from
the capital. Halfway between these mon
uments and in line with them, in the
Beometrical center of the city, lies the
mighty cluster of palaces, whose varying
tenantry have made the history of modern Europe.
Over the oldest of them to-day a tri-color flag is
flying to show that the most recent lessee of the
Tuileries is at home IL is in the central dome OF
If no hmm la1Lli ar mia
may be found, and If we ascend thither we may zee
him, thus early, looking across the wood and flower
garden before the palace, 70 vast bOilerhke strue
eure that at mile distant, coils in the midst Of
fat lOw-lying plain in the Suburbs Of Paris. The
Seine, beneath him, reaches down to il with fire.
quent bridges, like long bending ladder il lie upon
the inferior side of the stream and between it and
the great arch of Triumph. the opposite river bank
is bold and high table-lsnd, vacantly and suburb
any furnished This huge boiler, il seems is the
GROWING show Of this crowned European Barnum,
the lest of his surprises his bid to industry TO APP
pease uneasy history. .I. q
Seventeen years of successful aszrpation have
brought this man to the usual goals of fortune a
sensitiEeness as 90 his own past sOctude to his
sons future and a govt. The history of his reign
has been an Imperial useearpentery. Some exte-
Tior episodes Of bland peace-mal1ing, and little
fighting aud eelonizng, take little space beside the
real perseverance, with which he has piled up masonry
in every city Of France, and beautied its Capital
beyond even the labon of Louis XIV. He has not
aimed TO stimulate others to bud but TO be himself
the only builder Of his realm. While there has never
been reign so bOmtiful in architecture there has
been none where private enterprise has reared so
little The Government has been Jealous of its sub
jects, and has admitted them TO no rivalry. The
Enperors name alone is emblazGned upon.
cornerstone and eap-stone as IT, in his feversh fear
that he deserves 10 be forgotten, he would monu-
mentalze his signature on every rod Of France, and