That’s right, it’s July 14th, a date which is known in many countries (although not in France) as Bastille Day. It’s a day of national pride, and we French can certainly be proud of many of our past glories (regretably, more recent glories are few and far between).

Despite the early promise of the Sarkozy presidency, little progress has been made regarding the key issues that trouble the country, including the assimilation of immigrants, the fragile economy, and the continued celebrity of Julien Doré (click the link if you dare). In particular, Nicolas Sarkozy, who had promised to get tough with French unions, has done nothing of the sort. In fact, strikes as well as political demonstrations remain an unfortunate and very disruptive part of everyday life in France, as demonstrated by this page of the website of the RATP, which manages public transportation in the region of Paris:

I suppose it’s considerate of those who will be disrupting the transportation system to inform the authorities of their intentions in advance, but it’s not uncommon for workers and clients to have no choice but to remain at home, often requiring businesses to close for the day. The impact on the economy of these repeated disruptions is obvious, but at least the finances of France are more stable than those of Greece (for now).

Are you planning on traveling to Paris in the near future? Would you like to know more about the strikes and demonstrations that you should anticipate? If so, why don’t you take a look at Grèves.org for an up-to-date list of man-made (specifically, Frenchman-made) travel disruptions.

Bernard Dauphin

There’s nothing wrong with building a house and calling it Casa de la Puta, but I would suggest that your construction project had better be pretty impressive if you’re going to name it “Versailles.” What’s that you say? Nobody would be so presumptuous as to call their residence “Versailles”? You’re wrong, and if you can find a few free hours during your next trip to Disneyworld to visit a nearby construction site, you’ll see what I mean.

“Versailles” is an new development located in Windermere, Florida, and it’s being offered for $75,000,000 as is, or $100,000,000 finished to the buyer’s specifications (I would like to assume that the additional $25,000,000 would guarantee diamond-encrusted doorknobs and solid gold plumbing fixtures, but I have a feeling that I would be wrong). So what will $75,000,000 get you? According to the online listing by Coldwell Banker, these features:

THE HOUSE DESIGN IS BASED ON THE ROYAL RESIDENCE OF LOUIS XIV OF 17TH CENTURY

90,000 SF UNDER ONE ROOF

13 BEDRM, 23 BA, 20 CAR GARAGE & 3 POOLS

LARGE BOATHOUSE, FORMAL GARDENS, 1 STORY GATEHOUSE WITH APT., BASEBALL FIELD, 2 TENNIS COURTS, 60×120 GRAND HALL WITH 30FT STAINED GLASS DOME, 2 GRAND STAIRCASES, 37X30 KITCHEN, 10 SATELLITE KITCHENS, 2 STORY WINE CELLAR, ROCK GROTTO WITH 3 SEPARATE SPAS BEHIND 80FT WATERFALL, FITNESS CENTER WITH SPA FACILITIES, TWO LANE BOWLING ALLEY, INDOOR ROLLER RINK, VIDEO ARCADE, 1/2 ACRE MAIN POOL DECK, CHILDREN’S WING W/ FAMILY RM, THEATER, ACTIVITY RM & COMPUTER RM, ADULT MOVIE THEATER W/BALCONY, 4 FIREPLACES, FORMAL DINING RM SEATS 30, HIS & HER OFFICE WITH 12FT TWO SIDED AQUARIUM

The skeptics among you might say that the description shown above doesn’t sound like the Versailles that you read about in your high school history textbook. I’ll leave that for you to decide, but perhaps two photos of the exteriors will help you see the resemblance:

Versailles (Florida)

Versailles (France)

Still unsure? How about two satellite photos of the respective grounds courtesy of Google Maps:

The grounds of Versailles (Florida)

The grounds of Versailles (France)

If you’re a wealthy oligarch and you’d like to own a small piece of French history in the heart of sunny Florida, why don’t you give Coldwell Banker a call and make a bid. As Louis XIV would have said, bonne chance!

Bernard Dauphin

I’m still recovering following my ridiculously long journey home from Paris by way of Tahiti, so my posting today is going to be short but sweet. It’s a video clip of a French singer named Christophe Maé taken from his performance at the Eiffel Tower during the evening of July 14th, or Bastille Day, last year.

It’s fun to watch Christophe Maé as he walks from his dressing room to the stage. I’m not sure why they placed his dressing room so far away, but it forces the announcer to make a very lengthy and entertaining introduction, all of which Christophe Maé can hear. Finally, he steps onto the stage in front of more than 500,000 people and performs with an impressive level of confidence and skill (if you push the “HQ” button that appears shortly after you start the video, you’ll be able to watch a higher-resolution version of the clip).

The song in this clip, On S’Attache, is great, but so is his entire first album, Mon Paradis. It’s available at www.amazon.fr, as is his new live CD/DVD, Comme à la Maison, which he recorded in a more intimate setting on a beach in Corsica.

Bernard Dauphin

That’s right, after spending the last three months in Paris shopping for merchandise for my antiques shop, I decided that it was finally time to return to Palm Beach. I’ll be back by the end of this week, but not sooner, because I decided to take the long way home. Sometimes it’s better that way.

Bernard Dauphin

As you may have previously read, my visit to the Hôtel Drouot on February 7th was a failure, but I recently returned to bid successfully on a number of items (that’s typical at Drouot, where the quality of the auctions can be quite variable). One lot in particular caught my eye. It was in room 4, hung on the wall just to the left of the door.

Room 4 at Drouot

As you can see, it’s a painting of a grand staircase.

A painting of a grand staircase by Paul-Édouard Bonheur (1880)

The painting is by Paul-Édouard Bonheur (one of the lesser known siblings of Rosa Bonheur) from 1880. It’s framed in a conventionally ornate fashion and it’s relatively small, perhaps 35 centimeters by 40 centimeters. Something about the painting appealed to me, something more than just its decorative quality, and I’m pleased to say that I was the high bidder for a price of 900 euros, which I felt at the time was a fair but definitely not a bargain price.

After I paid for my purchase and brought it back to the apartment on rue Auguste Comte, I decided to inspect it more closely. Much to my surprise, when I removed the tattered paper that had been attached to the back of the frame, a small sheet of parchment fell onto my lap. It was yellowed and clearly very old and it had a slightly moldy smell. I began to read the letter, which was a bit obsequious, I must say, although probably typical of what seemed to be a thank you note from the 1700s. Strangely, given that it was obtained at a French auction, the letter was in English, but the most shocking aspect of the letter was the signature. Can you read it toward the bottom of the second page?

The front of the letter

The back of the letter

The writer was Voltaire! The letter is dated October 18, 1729, and it was written by Voltaire to a Lord Bathurst to thank him for his hospitality. Voltaire spoke fluent English, in part because he had lived in exile in England for two years due to legal threats by French aristocrats whose reputations they felt he had sullied. He signed the letter “Yr lordship’s most humble obedient faithfull servant Voltaire,” but make no mistake, Voltaire was a champion of enlightenment and very much enjoyed skewering certain deserving elements of the nobility and the clergy.

What will I do with my lucky purchase? The painting, of course, I will sell, because it’s purely decorative (not that there’s anything wrong with that). I consider Voltaire’s letter to be one of my most prized possessions, however, and I will have it framed and hung in a place of honor over my mantelpiece back home. I have no idea who concealed it in the back of that painting or why, but it will always remind me to find the humor in those who are just a little too pleased with themselves, a type that one encounters all too often on the social circuit in Palm Beach.

Voltaire (François-Marie Arouet), November 21, 1694 - May 30, 1778

Bernard Dauphin