Porte's European Vacation
Good morning from Porte’s hometown of Martinsburg where the skies are expected to remain cloudy today with highs rising to around 60 degrees.
Great.
Shorts weather in November.
I wasn’t wearing shorts Wednesday night, though. I was sitting in my car sporting jeans and a light jacket to ward off the chill. I was also trying to maintain my customary equilibrium. We were at a standstill, nothing moving. Beside me, in the passenger seat, my wife was staring intently at the tail lights of the pickup truck with Tennessee plates in front of us. And then she intoned, “We’re stuck in a huge traffic jam. On a dirt road. In the middle of nowhere.” Our situation was infruriatingly absurd. But her remark broke the tension and we started laughing hysterically.
We had planned a quiet night out, to celebrate our wedding anniversary — dinner and a movie and maybe a few drinks after we got home to toast 30 years of putting up with each other.
We got the quiet part right. When I rolled down the driver’s side window, all I could hear was the white noise of engines idling. We were one in a long line of bright red brake lights that snaked down that dirt road - diverted there because a three vehicle wreck had shut down the southbound lanes of Interstate 81. That road probably hasn’t ever seen so many vehicles at once. The locals must have been astonished.
We were trying to make our way across the border, to Winchester, VA to see the new Ridley Scott epic “Napoleon” when we got caught up in that jam. My wife didn’t really want to see that particular movie, but she knew I did and she suggested it after I mentioned a desire to spend our anniversary visiting the site of a Civil War battle that Porte participated in. She was splitting the difference between bad and not-quite-as-bad. She’s put up with a lot over the years.
I was momentarily disappointed because I could see the fodder I needed for this week’s newsletter slipping away. But then I realized I could make it work. Porte had a Napoleon connection!
As a young art student in his mid 20s, Porte toured the artsy capitals of Europe. And he arrived in Paris in December 1840, in time to witness Napoleon’s funeral procession. We know this because Porte wrote home about his impressions of that day. His letter was one of a series that appeared in the Martinsburg Gazette, his hometown newspaper.
I had planned to share Porte’s Napoleon letter this week. Thing is, though, we have yet to see the movie. As it was starting, we were stuck in that traffic jam on that dirt road in rural northern Virginia—diverted there along with countless others.
But maybe it’s for the best. The annivesary of Napoleon’s funeral processesion is not until next weekend. I’ll circle back to it then.
Today, let’s start with the first letter published by the Gazette. The dates Porte cites match up well with this past week and we’ll get to Napoleon next week.
God willing and the interstate’s not shut down, I will likely have seen the movie by then.
PEN AND INK SKETCHES OF AN ARTIST
We have been promised occasional extracts from the correspondence of a young fellow townsman, now in Europe, which we design to lay before our readers. The first number we present to-day They will show up the queer things that meet the eye of an observant traveller, in a style that cannot fail to gratify those whose rambles are confined to our own land, and who are naturally curious to know what impressions are made upon an American traveller, by the habits and manners of Europeans by their natural scenery and their works of art.
Packet Ship, VILLE DE LYON, At Sea, Nov. 30.
I commence a letter today, which I will close at Havre. There is generally too much monotony in a sea voyage to make a regular journal interesting, and indeed, I should not have been able to keep one, if I had been so disposed. I will, however, give you a general idea of how time has passed with me, narrating the incidents in order as they have occurred. I will endeavor, too, to render my letters as interesting as possible, by entering as much into minutiae as my paper will admit.
We left the wharf at New York, on the 16th, at twelve o'clock, in tow of a steamer, which carried us eight or ten miles out, when, a breeze springing up, we parted and made sail. The friends of the passengers who had accompanied us thus far, bid us farewell with three cheers, which were cheerily answered from the ship, and in a few hours the sun went down upon the land, which we saw no more. I held up my head nearly all the next day, but when we got into the eternal roll of the Ocean, I laid up without further struggle. On the 18th, we discovered a Brig with colors flying, Union down, which is a signal of distress. She proved to be from St. Marks, Florida, bound for New York, out thirty days and in distress for provision. There were three ladies on board, and the poor creatures had eaten nothing for ten days, but salt beef: rather hard fare at sea, I should think. Our Captain relieved them promptly. On the 19th, we spoke a ship from New Orleans, and informed them of Old Tip's election. They gave three cheers at the intelligence. From this day, until the 27th, I scarcely left my berth, suffering very much from sea sickness. During the time, we had a succession of heavy gales, which were all favorable, and we made great headway. On the 27th, I was well enough to go on deck, and take my meals regularly at the table.
November 27th.-(We were, at this time, in the middle of the sea, 1000 or 1500 miles from land.) This evening, about sunset, we discovered a vessel with signals of distress hoisted. The wind was blowing a tremendous gale, and the waves ran fearfully: we, however, stood for her, and after much difficulty succeeded in speaking to them. The answer was, the Brig Britannia, of Carlisle, England, in a sinking condition. It was now pitch dark, and we could only ascertain the position of the Brig by the light which was hung in her fore rigging. Owing to the violence of the gale, we were tacking for nearly an hour, before we could again get near enough to lower our boat. We at length succeeded, and the life boat was manned and put off, although great fears were entertained of her swamping. It was a time of fearful anxiety. Every eye was strained in the direction in which the boat was expected to return, if possible, to pierce the gloom and ascertain something of her fate. I had forgotten my sickness, and was clinging to the mizzen shrouds, with the spray dashing in my face every moment. Shortly we saw the boat light on the crest of a billow, within a hundred yards of us; but, ere the exclamation of pleasure was uttered, a sea dashed over her, and a wild cry arose above the roar of the tempest, like the wail of the perishing. I felt a strange sensation of faintness and a disposition to cover my eyes, and I shall never forget the horror depicted in the faces around me. Lights were displayed and ropes thrown overboard, in every direction, with fiery haste, but deathlike silence reigned aboard the ship — not an exclamation, not a breath. "Lower away the jolly boat," shouted the Captain—but ere command was executed, the life-boat shot under our lee, safe. A wave struck her, doused the light and washed the mate overboard. They thought all was over with him for a moment, but he fortunately seized an oar, and was saved. They brought six of the Englishman's crew, and returned for the remainder, who were, in their turn. put safely on board.The Americans do well to be proud of the gallantry of their tars; which, whether displayed in battle or in the rescue of the unfortunate, is equally admirable.
The crew of the Brig were twelve in number, including the Captain and two boys. They were from some port in British America, twenty days out, homeward bound. Having encountered very severe weather, about four days before, they sprang a leak, which increased so alarmingly, that, for the last two days and nights, all sail was close reefed, and the pumps worked incessantly. Every expedient that the love of life could suggest was tried in vain;--sails were drawn under the keel of the vessel; efforts were made to remove the cargo in order to get at the leak, but all was of no avail. Night was closing around them, and their vessel was evidently fast settling. "We saw the sun go down upon us," said the old grey-headed sailor who related the circumstances to me. "We saw the sun go down upon us, as we thought, for the last time forever." They had, indeed, abandoned themselves that to despair; but when they saw our gallant vessel booming down upon them, some of the men covered their weather-beaten faces with their hands, and wept like children.
We supposed that the Brig sunk or went to pieces about two hours after we left her. I was grieved, because of a poor Spaniel that was left on board and perished. The dog would never have deserted his master, in such an extremity. However, the poor fellows could not be blamed, for owing to the difficulty of getting the boat alongside, they barely escaped with their lives—not one of them having saved even so much as a change of raiment.
28th- I observed this evening, for the first time, the phosphorescent appearance of the water. Whenever the waves broke against the ship, there seemed a shower of fire. The light is like fluid fox-fire, and is exceedingly beautiful.
December 7th. We have had head winds and calms since the 30th. Yesterday was a beautiful day, the sea nearly calm. We saw several Whales spouting and playing about us; and, during the whole day, there were from 20 to 30 sail in sight. Yesterday morning I climbed into the mizzen top and saw land. I could see, distinctly, the lighthouses on Lizard point, and the chalk cliffs of England. I have been in a fidget ever since. Last night, the Captain called us up, at one o'clock, to see the Caskets, three lighthouses on the French coast. The lights are all revolving, alternately flashing out and disappearing.
Dec. 8th.-Arrived in Havre this morning, at 6 o'clock-depart for Paris, this evening.