The picturesque old town of Abbeville was one of John Ruskin’s favorite sketching grounds. We pass the market-place, which is surrounded by ancient houses with high-pitched gables colored in varied tints of gray, dull-blue and pale-green. The church is cited by Ruskin as one of the best examples of Flamboyant style in France, though the different parts are rather inharmonious and of unequal merit. Abbeville was held by the English for two hundred years and the last possession, except Calais, to be surrendered to France. Here in 1514 Louis of Brittany married Mary Tudor—the beautiful sister of Henry VIII.—only to leave her a widow a few months later. She returned to England and afterwards became the wife of the Duke of Suffolk.
It is market-day in Montreuil and the streets are crowded with country people. We stop in the thronged market-place, where a lively scene is being enacted. All kinds of garden produce and fruits are offered for sale and we are importuned to purchase by the enterprising market-women. We find the fruit excellent and inexpensive, and this, with a number of other object lessons in the course of our travels, impressed us with the advantages of the European market plan, which brings fresh produce direct to the consumer at a moderate price.
We have most of the afternoon about Boulogne. In starting on our tour a month before we hardly glanced at our landing port, so anxious were we for the country roads; but as we drive about the city now, we are delighted with its antiquity and quaintness. It is still enclosed by walls—much restored, it is true, and so, perhaps, are the unique gateways. The streets are mostly paved with cobbles, which make unpleasant driving and after a short round we deliver the car at the quay. At the Hotel Angleterre we order some strawberries as an “extra” with our luncheon—these being just in season—and we are cheerfully presented with a bill for six francs for a quantity that can be bought in the market-place for ten cents—this in addition to an unusually high charge for the meal. Evidently Boulogne Bonifaces are not in business solely for their health. The town is a frequented summer resort, with a good beach and numerous hotels and lodging-places. It is said to be the most Anglicized town in France—almost everyone we meet seems familiar with English. The Captain suggests that we may be interested in seeing the Casino, one of the licensed gambling-houses allowed in a few French towns. The government gets a good share of the profits, which are very large. We do not care to try our luck on the big wheel, but the Captain has no scruples—winning freely at first, but quitting the loser by a goodly number of francs—a common experience, I suppose. The small boy is not allowed to enter the gambling room, from which minors are rigidly excluded.
We have a glorious evening for crossing to Folkestone—the dreaded Channel is on its best behavior. A magnificent sunset gilds the vast expanse of rippling water to the westward and flashes on the white chalk cliffs of the English shore. As we come nearer and nearer we have an increasing sense of getting back home—and England has for us an attractiveness that we did not find in France and Germany.
And yet our impressions of these countries were, on the whole, very favorable. France, so far as we saw it, was a beautiful, prosperous country, though there was not for us the romance that so delighted us in England. We missed the ivied ruins and graceful church-towers that lend such a charm to the British landscapes. The highways generally were magnificent, though already showing deterioration in many places. The roads of France require dustless surfacing—oil or asphaltum, similar to the methods extensively used in England. Since the time of our tour steps have been taken in this direction and in time France will have by far the best road-system in the world. Her highways are already broad and perfectly engineered and need only surfacing. About Paris much of the wretched old pave is still in existence, but this will surely be replaced before long. The roads are remarkably direct, radiating from the main towns like the spokes of a wheel, usually taking the shortest cut between two important points.
The squalor and filth of the country villages in many sections is an unpleasant revelation to the tourist who has seen only the cities, which are clean and well-improved. But for all this thrift is evident everywhere; nothing is allowed to go to waste; there are no ragged, untilled corners in the fields. Every possible force is utilized. Horses, dogs, oxen, cows, goats and donkeys are all harnessed to loads; indeed, the Captain says there is a proverb in France to the effect that “the pig is the only gentleman,” for he alone does not work. The women seem to have more than their share of heavy disagreeable tasks, and this is no doubt another factor in French prosperity.
Despite the notion to the contrary, France is evidently a very religious country—in her way. Crucifixes, crosses, shrines, etc. are common along the country roadsides, and churches are the best and most important buildings in the towns and cities. Priests are seen everywhere and apparently have a strong hold on their parishioners. In view of such strong entrenchment, it seems a wonder that the government was able to completely disestablish the church and to require taxation of much of its property.
The country policeman, so omnipresent in England, is rarely seen in France, and police traps in rural districts are unknown. Even in towns arrests are seldom made—the rule being to interfere only with motorists who drive “to the danger of the public.” One misses the handy fund of information which an English policeman can so readily supply; the few French officials we questioned were apparently neither so intelligent nor accommodating.
We were astonished to see so few motor cars in France, and many which we did see were those of touring foreigners. France, for all her lead in the automobile industry, does not have many cars herself. She prefers to sell them to the other fellow and keep the money. The number of cars in France is below the average for each of the states of the Union, and the majority are in Paris and vicinity. French cars almost dominate the English market and many of the taxicabs in London are of French make. We saw a large shipment of these on the wharves at Boulogne. If it were not for our tariff, we may be sure that France would be a serious competitor in the motor-car trade of the United States. There is absolutely no prejudice against the motorist in France and foreigners are warmly welcomed to spend their money. The Frenchman does not travel much—France is good enough for him and he looks on the Americans and Englishmen who throng his country as a financial asset and makes it as easy for them to come as he possibly can. In fact, under present conditions it is easier to tour from one European country to another than it is among our own states—one can arrange with the Royal Automobile Club for all customs formalities and nothing is required except signing a few papers at each frontier.
In some respects we noted a strong similarity between France and Germany. The cities of both countries are clean and up-to-date, with museums, galleries, splendid churches and fine public buildings. In both—so far as we saw—the small villages are primitive and filthy in the extreme and in rural districts the heaviest burdens appear to fall on the women. In both countries farming is thoroughly done and every available bit of land is utilized. Each gives intelligent attention to forestry—there are many forests now in their prime, young trees are being grown, and the roadsides are planted with trees.