A challenge from China

Looking at the winner of the 1907 Peking-Paris race in our main picture, we can imagine the fearsome physical obstacles facing the cars and teams as they set out on 10th June 1907 from Peking (then known in Britain as Pekin) to drive to Paris.  But there were cultural obstacles, too.  A first report in the British Motor magazine for 11th June summed it up beautifully: “On Monday the motorcar race from Pekin to Paris starts, unless the Chinese authorities succeed in their efforts to oppose the venture.  The Mandarins have strange doubts and fears concerning the true purport of the intrepid adventurers.  They entertain grave suspicions as to the political designs of the competitors.  They are believed to be engineers under the guise of tourists, and it is thought that they have been ordered by European Governments to secretly plan some remarkable railway system.”

But the concerns of the journalists soon passed to the physical: “…there will be places on the journey at which it will be necessary to carry the cars.”  And, “After the difficulties of the Mongolian Mountains have been overcome, the cars will face the infinity of the Gobi Desert.”

Prompted by a challenge laid down in a Paris newspaper in January 1907, the race had forty entrants – but only five teams shipped their cars to Peking to start the race: the Itala of the eventual winner Prince Scipione Borghese, accompanied by Ettore Guizzardi, one Spyker (which finished 2nd), one Contal cyclecar (which did not finish) and two De Dions (which came 3rd and 4th).

Although the race followed a telegraph route that made international news coverage possible, contemporary press photographs show just how difficult the whole enterprise must have been.  One of our pictures [Picture 2] shows a veritable quagmire in an otherwise bustling town, is entitled “A specimen of roads encountered on Pekin-Paris route.  The principal street in Kouan Chenzy.”  

It was accepted at the time that the achievement of the four finishers could not have been accomplished without external aid, but the vehicles’ ability to withstand the hauling and rough usage in the mountains of China and the swamps of Southern Siberia was, according to the Autocar, “proof of the extraordinary strength of the cars.”

Indeed, another of our photographs [Picture 3] shows just such an example, including these words in the caption: “Large gangs of Chinese coolies were engaged to assist the cars through some of the passes.”

Autocar illustrated the toughness and excellent preparation of the winning Itala in another of our pictures [Picture 4].  The caption tells us: “The mudguards are arranged so that they can be easily taken off and utilised as planks for crossing fords, and soft places.  The large petrol and general supply tanks will be noticed.”

In rural districts, even in Russia, motor cars were still a rarity.  In Kazan, two youths fled in terror when faced with the appearance of a “horseless car”.  But in Russia the reception was usually friendly – apart from an incident near Nijni Novgorod where the Itala frightened a horse.  The angry locals advanced on the car, throwing stones, until, as the Automotor Journal relates, “…the sight of a pistol levelled by a steady hand caused them to withdraw.”

Prince Scipione Borghese’s Itala was so far ahead of the other three surviving cars – 17 days at one point – that he had time to attend four days of celebrations in Moscow and shorter but equally rapturous receptions in St Petersburg and Berlin, before his triumphant arrival in Paris on 10th August.  The Spyker and two De Dions were sadly unable to arouse the same enthusiasm as they finally passed through.

Our last picture [Picture 5], from Motor, shows the winning car on its arrival in Paris in the rain, with the Prince at the wheel.  He has clearly not posed for the camera – but we suspect that the manufacturer has made sure that the Itala script (which is covered in grime on all other pictures of the car during the race) has been added to the image before publication.  And why not?  This was a magnificent achievement by a famous Italian make and its intrepid Italian team.

Words by Peter Moss.  Pictures from the Richard Roberts Archive.