Europe from a Motor Car

by Russell Richardson

Some of the worthy citizens of these communities were probably more familiar with town affairs than the current events of the outer world. We read in a local journal of a shopkeeper who shouted a lusty "Vive Faillières," to greet the president's arrival. The mayor of one village threw himself in front of the presidential car, and threatened to commit suicide if the president did not make a speech, as he had done in a neighboring town. These petty municipal jealousies gave us a picture of France in miniature. What country is more torn by faction! Internal dissension is the nation's peril.

The river kept us company until Limoges was in sight. The president had left the city only a few hours before our arrival. Decorations were still in their splendor. One arc de triomphe bore the words "Vive Poincaré." Another read, "Nos fleurs et nos cœurs." This popular ovation seems remarkable when we consider the strength of socialism in France, and the fact that Limoges is a socialistic center. The mayor, a socialist, refused to receive the president. The City Council was not present at the festivities of welcome. Municipal buildings like the Hôtel de Ville were not decorated. All this was in accordance with instructions received from the leaders of the socialistic party. It was even considered unsafe for the president to include Limoges in his itinerary. But the people, the wage earners, the various trade organizations, acted for themselves. Their spontaneous, enthusiastic greeting was all the more striking in contrast with the cold indifference of the city authorities. To be in an important French city at just this time, on the very day when the president was there, to see all the preparations for his welcome, to hear the people talk about him and praise him, made us feel that we had been close indeed to one of the great personalities of modern Europe. France has found her leader, a man of vast energy who understands his country's problems and is peculiarly fitted to solve them. His motor tour through the provinces was like a triumphal march. Everywhere he preached that gospel of unity which is the great need of the hour.

Thanks to a letter of introduction, we had the interesting privilege of visiting a porcelain factory and of seeing the different processes through which the product passes from the shapeless lump of clay to the final touch of the artist's brush. The city reflects the artistic spirit of its inhabitants. One notices many attractive garden plots and window gardens, and the beauty of the flowers appears in their art. These artists can reproduce them in porcelain and enamel because first of all they have painted them in their hearts.

Copyright by Underwood & Underwood

A convenient way to carry bread

After Limoges, came Tours as the goal of the day's run through the pastoral beauties of Limousin to the châteaux of Touraine. The air was crisp and clear. Two hours of easy running through the bright September sunshine brought us to the Palais Hôtel in Poitiers before noon—Poitiers, the city of old Romanesque churches and older traditions, where are living so many of the vieille noblesse who would rather eat dry bread than make their sons work. The echoes of Parisian rush do not penetrate these quiet streets. The people drink tilleul after lunch instead of coffee. The effect is to make them drowsy. In fact, we have seldom visited a place with such an atmosphere of slumber. After lunch the patronne offered to show us some of the hotel rooms. Most of them were connected with a private salle de bain. The price was so reasonable that we at once placed this hotel in a class by itself. As before stated, bathrooms do not enter largely into the life of the French home or hotel. Even in cities like Tours, the public bathtub still makes its round from house to house once a week, or once a month as the case may be. An Englishman, who so often places cleanliness above godliness, is unable to understand this French indifference to the blessings of hot and cold water. In Lyons, the third largest city of France, there is a popular saying that only millionaires have the salle de bain in their homes. These facts will help to explain why the Hôtel Palais, with its many bathrooms, made such an impression on us. We regret that our snapshot of this hotel did not turn out well. We would have had it enlarged and framed.

From Poitiers to Tours one is on the famous Route Nationale No. 10, that remarkable highway which Napoleon built across France into Spain when his soldiers made the long march only to meet defeat in the Peninsular campaign. We had followed it from Bayonne to Biarritz and on to San Sebastian. To see this familiar sign again seemed like the greeting of an old friend. It looks like an army road, the trees are planted with such military precision. One could almost feel the measured step to martial music. This straight-away stretch for so many miles through the country suggested the great soldier himself. Like his strategy, there was no unnecessary swerving. It was the shortest practicable line to the enemy's battle front. These magnificent routes nationales are the best illustration of the order and system that he gave to French life. We have often thought too much emphasis has been laid on the destructive side of Napoleon's career. He shook Europe, but Europe needed to be shaken. The divine-right-of-kings theory needed to be shattered. France needed to be centralized. If our motoring in that country had been limited to Route Nationale No. 10, this would have been enough to give us a new appreciation of Napoleon as a constructive force.

The afternoon's ride flew all too quickly. It was glorious, as evening approached, to watch the harvest moon growing brighter and larger on our right, while the sunset fires slowly changed from burning colors to dusky gray. Tours was in sight, Tours on the Loire, names that we had always linked with the châteaux of Touraine. A multitude of lights gleamed from the plain below. Descending the hill, we crossed the Loire to the Hôtel Metropole.