Porte's Napoleon letter
Good morning from Porte’s hometown of Martinsburg, West Virginia where highs are expected to be in the upper 50s today with enough rain to keep the neighborhood ducks happy.
Been busy this week.
Too busy to devote much time to this week’s edition of the PCAS, so I’m going to dispense with my usual schtick and get right to it.
I usually like to send you these emails on Saturdays, but I delayed it by 24 hours because, for some reason, I believed that today was the 183rd anniversary of Napoleon’s funeral procession through the streets of Paris.
Good thing I double checked.
The anniversary of the “retour des cendres” as the return of Napoleon’s remains to France is known, is actually this FRIDAY — the procession happened on December 15th, 1840, some 20 years after Napoleon died in exile on the South Atlantic island of St. Helena. My mistake, but if you’d like to mark the ocassion with a toast, at least now you’ve got plenty of time to fetch home a bottle Courvoisier, said to be Napoleon’s favorite cognac.
Below you'll find Porte’s letter home offering his impressions of that day in Paris. It was published in the Martinsburg Gazette some two months later — on February 25th, 1841.
Fun fact: Near the beginning of his letter, Porte refers to “stupendous cliffs of flame.” According to Porte biographer Cecil D. Eby, Jr., he was describing countless bonfires that were lit to celebrate Napoleon’s return.
By the way — yes, I finally saw Ridley Scott’s movie after being foiled by a wreck that pretty much shutdown the southbound lanes of Interstate 81. But I’ve decided not to share my impressions of the film.
Wouldn’t want to spoil it for you.
But I’m pretty sure I’m not giving anything away when I says Napoleon … dies.
I’ll see myself out now.
Pen and Ink Sketches of an Artist
Number 2
PARIS, December 13, 1840. As my letters to you are the only regular account I keep of my travels, I will commence this where my last concluded.
December 7th—This morning we found ourselves within ten miles of Havre, beating against a strong headwind, which, towards the middle of the day, amounted to a gale. I cannot imagine a more provoking situation than this; sea-sick and land-sick, with the very trees in view and almost in sight of port; yet for a whole day we did not advance a foot — the ship in a perfect uproar, tacking and pitching at a furious rate. Sometimes we were within two miles of the French coast, which presented an unbroken line of high cliffs crowned with trees. Towards evening, as a consolation for our delay, we witnessed one of the most magnificent spectacles that can be imagined. The whole line of coast seemed a mass of fire. The stupendous cliffs of flame, which towered above the deep green sea and relieved strongly against the leaden sky, almost black towards the horizon, seemed more like enchantment than reality. No one on board had ever seen anything like it before. The effect, we suppose, was produced by the evening sun striking through an opening in the clouds, (invisible to us, for the sky seemed an unbroken mass,) and by the haziness of the atmosphere. When night fell we were no nearer port than in the morning. At midnight the wind veered a point or two, and in our favor, which caused quite a sensation among the passengers who were all watching on deck. At one o'clock a pilot came on board, and next morning [8th] on going on deck I found we were just entering the docks: the vessel at the moment brushing the old castle built by Francis 1.
The first thing that struck me was the apparent age of everything I saw; the quaint architecture of the buildings--then the costumes of the people, soldiers and gens d'armes who crowded the Quai. Even the animals were different from those we are accustomed to see in America. The deck of our ship was full of runners from the hotels, boatmen ready to take the passengers ashore, custom-house officers, and police men. We delivered our passports to a fierce looking gens d'armes, who stood at the gangway, and went ashore immediately, glad to set our feet once more on terra firma. I felt disposed to fall down and greet my mother earth with a kiss, but her face looked strange to me; old and withered, in comparison with the blooming land I had left. We were conducted to the custom house to undergo a personal examination, which, however, was a mere ceremony: the officer merely looking at us, and asking us a few questions After breakfasting at the Hotel d'Europe, we took a turn about the city. I was much amused at the market women, with their great wooden shoes and outlandish costumes, riding little donkeys loaded with panniers larger than themselves. Havre contains about 30,000 inhabitants, and is a place of some trade, but with little to interest a traveller. I visited a handsome church there, heard some tolerable music. and saw some bad pictures. I will amuse you with a bill of fare of the Hotel where we dined: —Vermicelli soup; fish and potatoes; roast beef, solus; sausages and sauerkraut; calf's brains with mushrooms; roast partridges and salad; spinach, curiously done up. DESSERT.-Omelet of apples, one of the pudding kind; dish, name and materials unknown; apples, pears and grapes. Little bow! of warm water to wash the fingers and the mouth, which is done by drinking a mouthful and squirting it into the bowl again; tooth-picks-each dish served up separately, with clean plate, knife and fork.
We went to the custom-house, and, after looking one hour through a grate with longing eyes at our trunks, the officers came in. There is a notice on the wall advising strangers that it is not necessary to give the officers any thing for examining the baggage-the real purport of which is, that, if you don't give them something, you will have a deal of trouble. My trunk was barely opened and passed immediately; but those who had much baggage were put to great inconvenience, their things being pulled about and unpacked even to the smallest articles.At six o'clock that evening we took the Diligence for Paris, where we arrived at eleven o'clock next morning. In passing through Rouen, we stopped a few minutes, and had a fine moonlight view of the Cathedral. The city contains about 30,000 inhabitants, and from the glimpses I had, I should think it a very handsome town. The view on the Quai was very fine, a grand illuminated arch being thrown over the Seine in honor of the remains of Napoleon which were daily expected to pass- More of this anon. The villages through which we passed reminded me more of the narrow and filthy suburbs of a city than anything else. The road from Havre to Paris is a very fine one, and the Diligences, although heavy lumbering vehicles, travel very fast. Upon the whole, they are preferable to our stage coaches. The road is lined on both sides with rows of trees, and, what would most strike the American traveller is, the entire absence of enclosures (except indeed immediately around the little thatched cottages.) The whole face of the country being in high cultivation even up to the pavement of the road. I do not think I saw a tree of natural growth on the whole route. They were arranged in ranks, like platoons of soldiers; or in long double rows, like lean sickly boarding school misses taking a walk; or in fanciful groups, like opera dancers on the stage: nothing wild or natural.
Of the city of Paris, it is not worth my while to attempt anything like a description, general or particular. The best idea you can get of the general Appearance and public buildings is, from a book called Paris and its environs, which I think F— has. I recognize many of the buildings and squares from the engravings which I have there seen. However, the reality gives an idea of extent and antiquity which the pictures do not. Altogether, it has exceeded my expectations. The squares, public walks, and gardens, filled with fountains, statuary and monuments, are beautiful beyond conception. I have visited the Louvre several times, and each time I was more pleased with the paintings; although the works of the old masters there exhibited did not strike me. If there are any of their finest specimens here, I must confess I cannot see their great merit. I may appreciate them in the course of time-that we will see-but I am not one to go with the current, if it does not please me. Today I visited the Luxembourg palace, where there is a gallery of paintings by the living French artists. All the French paintings catch the eye; they are beautifully executed, but I do not think they will bear much study. These are premature remarks, made from a passing glance, and I may change my mind before I close my letter. The antique statues in the garden of the Tuilleries are without doubt very fine: I am more taken with them than anything else I have seen. I attended the grand French opera a few nights since. To give you an idea of its splendor—the Orchestra has upwards of 100 performers, and I saw during the evening several pieces of scenery quite equal to the Departure of the Israelites, which you so much admire. The Italian opera, although far behind it in splendor of scenery and decorations, excels it in really fine music.But this I might continue for a volume. I shall visit everything possible in Paris -- theatres, churches, galleriess, palaces, without end. Get the pictures, and imagine an American with a very genteel dress under a somewhat rowdy great coat, staring at the originals, and you will have it.
Dec 16 — [What I have written in criticism of old masters, I am beginning to be ashamed of already; consider it unsaid, and when I write again I will say more ]
I must give you an account of the funeral of Napoleon, which I had the good fortune to witness yesterday. All Pars has been agog with the preparations for several weeks, the Chamber of Deputies having devoted two million of francs for the purpose. No description could possibly give a proper idea of the extent and beauty of these preparations. The avenues, through which the procession was to pass. were adorned, for miles, with triumphal pillars, enriched with stands of colors, eagles and shields; and inscribed with the names and dates of the great victories. There were colossal statues, proffering wreaths of laurel and glittering crowns; and huge altars, from which rose clouds of incense. I was most struck, however, with the preparations near the Hotel des Invalides. Here were ranged statues of the most distinguished soldiers of France, from Charlemagne up to the present times; all in attitudes of salutation. Such was the eagerness to procure seats, that some of the balconies on the Champs Elysées rented for three thousand francs; single seats were taken at from twenty to a hundred francs. Several of my American acquaintances procured places a week beforehand, and on the day of the procession were choused or crowded out of them; although they had paid twenty-five or thirty francs for their tickets. I, however, on the morning of the procession, bought one of the best places on the avenue for five francs; and I have no doubt that I could have got it for two and a half, if I had bargained a little. Lines of soldiers guarded the passage on each side for several miles, and the crowd collected to view the pageant was estimated at a million of souls. And a glorious sight it was. A hundred thousand soldiers arrayed, with colors and martial music, passed in review before us. Regiment after regiment of Cavalry, splendidly equipped, rode by; their arms and brazen hel- mets flashing in the sun: then came immense bodies of Infantry, with muffled drums and their forests of bayonets: then the iron-bound Cuirassiers -what magnificent locking troops they were!- glittering in polished steel, with their stern visages and long moustache. [Who would believe that such troops could have been beaten, absolutely crushed, as they were at Waterloo?] Squadrons of Lancers, and long trains of Artillery, followed in their turn; until as far as the eye could reach either way, the broad avenue glittered with armed men. But the cry was still they come." and, thousand upon thousand, the iron mass rolled on.One ceases to wonder that the potentates of Europe are fond of war. Such a sight would make a coward brave. As for me, I was frantic with military enthusiast; and could have shouted, in the language of Marmion, when he saw the Scots,Now, by St. George, were that host mine, Not power infernal or divine,Should once to peace my soul incline, Till I had dimm'd their armour's shine In glorious battle fray. But, hark! the roar of artillery proclaims that the coffin has passed the barriere des étoiles! NAPOLEON IS AGAIN IN PARIS! He has returned from his long exile, "to rest," as his dying wish expresses, "on the banks of the Seine, in the bosom of his people!"
First came a long train of funeral coaches, and after these one leading a war horse of the Emperor, richly caparisoned; then followed a fine body of sailors, who belonged to the vessels which were engaged in transporting the remains from St. Helena. A band of three hundred musicians playing a funeral dirge, preceded the great Car; which, gorgeous with purple and gold, and rolling on gilded wheels, was drawn by horses covered with cloth of gold. Four Marshals of France were the pall beaters; and, behind the Car, wearing wreaths of laurel and marching with halting steps, came the remnant of the old Imperial Guard. It consisted of a few hundred grey headed, withered, war-worn soldiers; many of whom were maimed and almost helpless.The dust of him, whose name once shook the world, was now before me. I did not breathe: the pageantry waxed dim before my eyes: I saw nothing but the coffin of Napoleon. Several persons addressed remarks to me at the time, but the words conveyed no impression. I was lost — absorbed in feelings, for which there is no language. It is gone. The music has died away in the distance— the guns from Les Invalides have announced the conclusion of the ceremonies—France has given a tomb to her Hero—the last act of the tremendous drama has closed, and the curtain has fallen forever.
I turned away with a feeling of deep disappointment. I had looked for tumult; I had thought that the enthusiasm of the people would be boundless; I expected to see the guard broken through, the horses torn from their places, and the Car dragged by the populace: but there was none of it. They jabbered, jested, and admired the gold. The soldiers presented arms-they were so ordered. The Altars smoked—it was so written in the programme. The pageant was magnificent beyond conception—it was worthy of Francebut it seemed to be regarded more as something to amuse the people, than a tribute of respect to the ashes of their Emperor. During the whole time the hawkers never ceased to cry, "Regardez, Messieurs! tes petits Napaleons, pour trois sous." [Look gentlemen! Little Napoleons, for three cents) and the stalls displayed Emperors done in glass, with their bellies full of Eau de Cologne! After all, there was more of moral sublimity in such a meeting as the Baltimore Convention, by far, than in this. When I write about Tailleries-Champs Elysées-Les Invalides. &c, you must get the book and become acquainted with the places. I have seen so many wonders since I left New York, that I have scarcely given you any of my particular private history. To commence. My healing is perfectly astonishing — my appetite I meant to have said. I have grown fat—that is to say, a line drawn from my cheek bone to my chin, instead of being curved inward as when I left home, forms a straight line. I am very much taken with the mode of living in Paris. The French cooking is delicious. I have not seen a dish since I landed that I have not been pleased with. It is a mistake when we think that the French dishes are highly seasoned; it is quite the reverse. They avoid all extremes, pepper and grease in particular. And yet one scarcely knows what he is eating—it may be cat, dog or horse—but it is very good and I ask no questions. I have found my book French to be of little service to me here, but it will enable me to learn to speak the language sooner than I otherwise would. There are a great number of words and phrases that are not to be found in books or dictionaries. However, I have amused myself at their attempts at English, as much as they have been at my bad French. I have found that, in every payment of money and every matter of business, my foreign tongue costs me at least double the real price. Indeed every American, who comes here a stranger, would do well never to buy anything himself; but always to get some French acquaintance to bargain for him. I like the manners of the people here very much. There is something even in the tones of the voice, that falls upon the ear of a stranger and soothes like kindness; and which is very agreeable, even though it means nothing. There is perfect ease and freedom of manner, entirely divested of coarseness or familiarity However, when I have looked more about me, and have time, I will say something more on this subject. ***Send me the Gazette and some city paper. I hear no American news at all, except though the French and English papers; and the remarks there made would amuse you.