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France In Our Own Car MY GREAT-GRAND AUNT, ELIZABETH “LIZZIE” SINKLER COXE (1843–1918), journeyed to Provence from Paris “in her own car” in 1902 accompanied by her brother Wharton Sinkler of Philadelphia; her son, Eckley Brinton Coxe, of Drifton, Pennsylvania ; and her two eighteen-year-old nieces, Emily Sinkler of Belvidere Plantation, South Carolina, and Elizabeth Stevens of Northampton Plantation, South Carolina. Exactly 103 years later, accompanied by my intrepid husband, Fred LeClercq, we set forth in Lizzie’s footsteps through Provence. We took the trip in reverse, from Monaco to Paris, while Lizzie journeyed from Paris, ending in Monaco. Lizzie was elated by something that seems so ordinary to us: “No one can imagine until they have tried it, the delight of traveling in Europe in one’s own car. From the moment when you see the gigantic box containing the precious thing swung on shore, it is a perpetual pleasure, and most of all interesting to see it dangling in the air like a huge beetle when they put it off at Boulogne.” Lizzie described the roads as “broad and smooth with the fields scarlet with poppies.” She filled the car with “flowers, baskets of fruit, and even a pair of old brass candlesticks” for dining al fresco (Elizabeth Sinkler Coxe, Tales from the Grand Tour, 1890–1910, edited by Anne Sinkler Whaley LeClercq, p. 50–52). Our beginning seemed inauspicious. We had dropped our Italian car in San Remo, and with bags on shoulders we headed for the train station only to learn that the French trains were on strike and that there were no rail options for getting to Monaco. Undeterred, Fred left the confusion of the train station and found an Italian taxi driver who would take us the twenty-seven kilometers to Monaco. Lorenzo, our cab driver, spoke flawless Italian and French and sped over the corniche to our rendezvous at Hertz in Monaco. We spent the night at the Hotel Welcome in Villefranche. Seated on the 4th floor in a yellow and blue room with double doors, I found my eyes were transfixed by the deep blue Mediterranean. Below small boats of the fishing fleet unloaded their abundant catch of the day. Eager housewives with barking dogs in tow made the day’s purchases. A sweet breeze amplified my feeling of serenity as I gazed toward the elegant peninsula of Cap Ferrat, where we stayed on a later trip. The Grand-Hotel du Cap Ferrat built in 1908 stands on almost seventeen acres of exquisite gardens and indigenous plants at the tip of the famous peninsula bought by King Leopold II of Belgium in the late 1800s. Our room had a vista over the 72 French Classical Elegance Alep pine treetops to sea. We dined at Le Cap restaurant with its trompe-l’oeil décor on Carnoroli risotto with langoustines and chicken confit with fois gras and black truffles. We breakfasted and swam in the lower pool reached by an all-glass funicular during a trip that offered views of the sea and the original semitropical vegetation. We took long walks around the peninsula’s lovely private homes and gardens and to its lighthouse and enjoyed the hotel’s fine spa and service. Most important of all, the hotel is in close proximity to the Rothschild estate and other lovely gardens in the area. As our dear friend Tennessee law professor Durward Jones might have said, “What’s not to like about this place?” There is a saying that it is impossible to have a bad meal in France. Beginning with breakfast, I was delighted to find a repast so delicate and so delicious that I could eat breakfast all day. I enjoyed shirred eggs, sausages, delicate cheeses, ham, sweet rolls, and most important, hot Earl Grey tea. Our destination for the morning was the Rothschild garden, sitting elegantly on the brow of St.-Jean-Cap-Ferrat. My great-grand aunt, Lizzie, who loved violets and bunches of lilies and had planted her beautiful garden at Windy Hill in Drifton, Pennsylvania, with rows of blue hydrangeas, would surely have visited this garden of Baroness Rothschild’s. Oh, how I would have loved to have had Lizzie with me at the Rothschild garden, the perfect creation of another Belle Epoque lady, Beatrice Ephrussi de Rothschild. There were actually nine gardens, each representing a different culture or nationality . The unifying theme that bound the entirety together was the superb...

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