New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1878-07-15
PARTISAN SPLENDOR.

THE PARK ILLUMINATED WITH M0RE THAN 0RIEN-
TAI sPLRNDoR LAKES BATHKD IN LIGHT
TRIES REsPIENDRNT WITH CoLoRED LANTERNS
-THE PEOPLE sUFFUsED WITH JOY-THE MAR
sEmLAIsE CHANTBD EvERYwHERF.
lFRoM STAFF CORRESPONDENT OF THE rKrBUSE.l
PARIS, July 1.-The centre of attraction for the
evening of the great fete the Bos de Boulogne'
1t was a bold experiment to ask Paris, OF great
part of Paris already half intoxicated with the ex
element Of long days pleasures to transport Itself
to a park q mile outside of the city. But it was
justified by success. Again the democratic element
in the days administration came uppermOst 1T was
fete Tor the people above all; if the upper classes
chose to join it, they had to submit to a kind
of police regulation which had its Inconvenience
to them as we'll as its advantages to the public.
The direct route to the Bots dc 5ouogne was closed
After o'clock, you could only enter the Avenue des
Champs Elys6es, or the Avenue du Bots de Boulogne'
on foot If you wished to drive, you must take the
side avenues Yet so excellent were the police ar
Engagements that even the people who went IN car
riages had nothing to complain of. And if you had
everything to complain of, you forgot 1t when you
were there. During the day, the people, responding
to the appeal of the Government, had carried OIL
the PALM When night came, the Government had
its revenge. All that was done in the Bots de
Boulogne was done by the Government, and
admirably done.
Bv G o'clock in the afternoon the tide already
setting westward along the Boulevards. Cabs ana
carriages were all moving toward the park the Om-
nibuses going TO the Madeleine were full and those
returning to tho Bastille came back empty. 1t was
plain enough that the other celebrations of the even
ing would have only local interest. Whoever took
the trouble to 90 anywhere outside Of his own neigh
borbood went either to the TuilerieS Gardens or
the Place de la COncorde, or to the Bois
de Boulogne, and vastly the greater null
ttude to the latter OF these again, two
thirds must have gone on foot. Their evenings
pleasure required a walk Of at least five miles, on
the average; not to speak Of standing during the
show The entrance TO the Park is nearly mile
beyond the Arch which crowns the Champs Elysees;
the upper lake is much further and before getting
to the Arch most Of the foot passengers had walked
two miles, rather than one. But the spirit of holt
day-making was strong. There were almost as many
women and children in the throng as men.
1t was o'clock before 1 could leave my
hotel Already the lanterns on the houses were
lighted, and q flush of color was filling
the avenues. much stronger than the soft glow Of a
June twilight which still lighted the sky. s. went
with me. Driving through the lateral avenues, we
reached the Porte Maillot with little or no delay
and were allowed to enter the Alice dc Long
cnliEpS,
riages, with whatever lay beyond it to the north
and west. We we're so late that we had to drive
past a mile of empty carriages before we could find
a place TO leave ours All this section of the wood
was in utter gloom. We pushed on under the trees
by the Route SablOnDeuse to its junction with the
Route de Surenc, which is the direct
continuation of the main avenue as You arrive from
Paris one end Of which, and one end OF the lower
lake. came into view at the same moment, as we
emerged from the blackness of the forest There il
was that the enchantment of the evening began.
Tue avenue itself was illuminated by four rows of
chandeliers, the clusters hundred feet apart, and
by extra burners the posts, in all nearly three
thousand added lights. Within the park along the
avenue and the alleys bordering on the lakes rose
Venetian masts, each mast bearing great shield OF
banner of coored lamps. But all that was nothing.
The beauty Of the evening was in the lakes and in
the edges of the wood surrounding the lakes. The
moment you touched the water you were out of the
world lyon were in a world of light winch belongs
to the domain of dreams; the light which
paints the sable skies
With azure, white and red.
The charm of the Bots de Boulogne in common
times is it's foliage; tonight the foliage used az
background for the Examinations, and the sim
plest means were the most successful Trees hung
thick with fiery fruit which never bore fruit before.
Their branches were hidden with RlObe-shaped Ian
ferns of pale Indian red, which grew rosy and rudy
with the light inside. There must have been mil
lions Of them The effect was striking that was
prosaic enough to count the number on one tree OF
no great SIZE. There were hundred and thirty
four. This was repeated with no effort at
variety in form or color, and the result was
absolutely bewildering-nO Armida's or Hesperides,
garden could have been 80 wonderful. Ii
the effect was marvellous as you looked along the
alleys closely bordered with these trees, it far
more 30 when the Amphthcatre of the Auteuil race
course opened before you. This too was surrounded
by trees covered in precisely the way with
cisely the same lanterns. Mere mOnotony and end
less repetition OF the same idea by the means
have done what no variety Of delicate device and
changing purpose could have done. 1t is monOto-
nous as the sea IS monOtonous, and you can more
tire of it than you tire Of the waste OF waters which
spread to the horizon and there is more poverty
of design in the one than the other You may fancy.
if you like that this luminous semcirclc has lit
tie of mortal handwOrk the sunset gOries Of the
sky which blends with the illimitable ocean.
That is extravagant, / dare say, but no wanton-
ness of rhetoric will much impress you with guch
n sense of unreaty as the scene itself conveyed to
the behOlder It is nonsense to attempt a descrip-
tion. There are two or three artists, two living
artists certainly, who have proved that it is posi-
bic to express color by the black and white Of an
etched plate There is one writer of English who
has done the same thing with his pen. There are
landscapes in the Modern Painters" over which
the breath Of the morning air passes audlbly you
read, and a man who has never been to Venice may
gaze with delight on the many GOlorod hucs of the
lagoons which Mr. RuskIn has pictured for him. And
even Mr. Ruskin. who worships nature and her only,
might think description of such scene as that Of
Sunday worthy of his Incompatible genius. For
the rest it "a not the scene, but the impression of
a.. .o.,,o ,,d tla meaning of n that Erenchtna