The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1878-05-25

| pleasant occasionally to mlngle IN the So
| cety you are accustomed to, and which
| you are perfectly sure is respectable. The
morning broke gloomily; the day previous
Paris was visited by one of the heaviest
storms of the season. 1t requires something
to dampen the ardor of your true Partisan,
but | don't know of any thing that will
take the starch out of mans collar as
quick as shower of rain. All through
the preceding night the rain had come
down in occasional showers, and when day
broke the clouds hung sad and gloomy over
the gayest capital in Europe. To foreign
ers, used to the noise and hustle of holt
days in other lands, there was something
almost appalling in the silence and order
that prevailed. There was no occasional
popping of pistols, no individual hurrahs,
and no thunder of artillery. Early in the
day, but little to indicate that there was
| about to commence pageant which thou
sands of people from other lands had crossed
great oceans to see. l sometimes think
Great Jupiter Pluvius has set his face
against International Exhibitions, for most
of them that | remember have been ush-
cred in with rain, the first Exposition in
London was dreadful. The Centennial at
Philadelphia was a soaker, and to day in
Paris 1t sustains its miserable reputation.
But rain or no rain, the dignity of the
fourth estate must be maintained; so the
representative of your honored journal,
knowing that he was going into the society
of princes, arrayed himself in swallow
tailed coat and white kids, and as strug-
gled resolutely before the glass to tie one
of those ravishing knots which used to
send a flutter through the hearts of the
young bellies of a quarter of century ago,
my memory ran sadly back to another Ex-
position in this very town when surround
ed by jolly band of brother quills-Jack
Finch, from Dublin, Tom Jennings, from
London, Ludwig Hirch, from Berlin, and
a Russian with an unpronounceable name
from Moscow, | went up to see the En-
peror open the Exposition of 1867.
| know not if any of them still wander
on this side of the Styx; but if on the other
side, hope they are enjoying much better
weather for their Exposition celebration
than we have to day in the city of Paris.
Getting into my carriage | drove down to
the Trocadero, and soon found myself in a
wild maize of every description OF vehicle,
from dog cart to an imperial coach.
Gendarmes lined the way, but order was
out of the question. | was dumped in
gloriously in the mud, and had to struggle
up to the gateway on foot. The character
of my invitation claimed immediate atten-
ton, and | was ushered at once into the
grand corridor of the palace. Every thing
was unfinished; the brick-layers and plas
terers, surprised in their job, had evidently
only beat retreat few hours before; mag
nificent Goeblins hung against the walls.
souUentrS of the more prosperous days of
France, but they were hung there to con-
ceal unsightly piles of lumber and noun
tans of ruinous debris. At o'clock the
foreign Ambassadors began to arrive, and
these were followed by a number of dis
tinguished personages, the most notable
being those of England, Spain and Italy.
The footmen and coachmen were all in
knee brooches and cooked hats; gorgeous
in vesture and respondent in gold lace,
the carriages were marvels of the coach
makers art, and the royal occupants, COW
cred with orders and glittering in diamonds,
were evidently of no common clay. At 2
precisely flourish of trumpets and wild
rush of chasseurS announced the arrival of
the Marechal President of the Republic;
the drums beat, brazen trumpets brayed,
but no vivas rent the air for the ruler of
France; the crowd parted respectfully as
he entered, heads were uncovered, and
many bowed low, but the deep enthusiasm
which popularity engenders was wanting,
and he passed on to the grand pavilion in
silence. Caught up in the wild throng
along the corridor; one moment | was in
the midst of the delegation of Deputies,
and the next | was in the suite of the Per-
sian Ambassador; soon | found myself
touching elbows with the crown Prince of
Denmark, another surge and | was landed
on the grand stand alongside of the Presi-
dent of the Republic. At this moment,
the scene was particularly grand and in
spring. A lovely amphitheatre, decked in
the gayest robes of Spring, stretching in
gentle slope across the Seine, lay between
you and the main Exhibition. The stand
itself was of purple and gold, filled with
magnificent gilded chairs for the royal
guests who had been especially invited,
and President MacMahon and his staff.
Immediately behind. on raised dais, were
assembled the princesses and the wives of
the foreign Ambassadors, and away in
corner, gorgeous in barbaric splendor, the
Ambassador and suite from Assam and
several other savages. In front of the
stand beautiful cascade poured its waters
into marble lake, on the margin of which
a gilded elephant was tIumpeting his an
CRY blast, near by huge rhinoceros was
uttering his roar of defiance; opposite him
magnificent bull dashed the air with his
fierce tail; while his neighbor, a proud
horse, updaunted by his looks, seemed
ready to grappe with him in the embrace
of death.
Over the buildings of the Exposition rose
the bright gided dome of the lnvalides,
under which moulder the sacred ashes of
the Emperor; away in the distance was the
sombre towers of Notre- Dame and behind
it, in bold relief against the sky, the great
dome Of the Pantheon, where, in the days
of the Revolution, they enshrined the naked
GnII ,f To tt,na lilyac
majestic giant, stood the Arc de Triomphe
de rEtoile inscribed with its splendid bat
tie roll of hundred victories; and on the
north rose Montmartre, from whose heights
only seven years ago the Emperor William,
at the head of his conquering army, looked
down on the starving and beleagued city.
The storm which had been threatening all
the morning now burst upon the assembled
thousands with unrelenting fury; the
pitiless rain poured down in torrents, and
the roar of heavens artillery drowned the
thunder of the guns that greeted the Presi-
dent of the Republic. The opening cere-
monies were grievous disappointment to
almost every body present. There was no
music, no grand anthem by which France
and the world should remember the day.
The entire absence of all enthusiasm in the
most enthusiastic capital in the world was
as marked as it was lamentable to those
who were naturally expecting one of the
most splendid pageants of ancient or mod
ern times. AS a spectacle it was the dead
est of all dead failures, as public celebra-
tion to whoever has seen the Derby or the
boat race on the Thames, the contrast
would be most unfavorable; but for all
this, there are here gathered together such
an Exposition of the worlds genius and
the worlds wealth, as has never been wit
messed in any land before. Strong with the
prejudices of my own country, glorying in
its past successes as | do, | am still COM
PEELED to speak with reverence and respect
of this magnificent national undertaking,
which, in my estimation, considering the
difficulties which surrounded it, has had
no parallel on the face of the earth. AS
the shadows of night fell the enthusiasm
which had been wanting all day seemed to
awaken as if by magic. The place de la
Concorde and all along the Champs Elysees
and the boulevards were crowded with
good natured multitude. There were some
faint attempts at illumination, and the