it's good to be the king; or is it?

The Palace of Versailles.  In October 1789, several thousand starving, rebellious Parisians walked 20 miles to Versailles and forced King Louis XVI, Marie Antionette and their family to vacate the palace the monarchy had occupied for 107 years. They were the last royals to live permanently in Versailles. In the intervening years, the buildings have served as many things -- museum, staff headquarters for the victorious Prussian army, base for the French troops that put down the Commune of 1871, and signing place for the 1919 treaty that bears its name. It is, at once, a remarkable achievement in architecture and design, and a stark example of those entrusted with leading their people choosing to abandon them in favor of their short-term, delusional self-interest.

Lauren's blog entry captures well our somewhat abridged and rain-soaked and trip to Versailles. I have a few additional observations. First, contrary to Mel Brooks's classic line, I am not so sure how good it was to be king. I suppose it depends. Louis XIV built Versailles and moved the royal palace there in 1682. Everything about the place -- the rooms, the way the town streets lead directly to the palace, the thousands of nobles who spent their days and nights seeking the king's approval -- works if you are the Sun King, and aspire to be the center of the known universe. I suspect most people would be uncomfortable with that kind of attention, with courtiers waiting for you to awaken so they can check your bedpans to ensure the royal bowels were in working order.

My second thought is on the literal and metaphorical separation between the French monarchical government and the governed. Louis XIV likely moved to Versailles to escape the mishegas (or whatever the French equivalent is) of Paris, in particular that created by his mother, who tried to have him killed in a coup. That's all well and good, but when he later consolidated his power and exiled his mother, moving the entire royal court to Versailles was more an act of escapism than one of self-preservation. In so doing, he removed himself and the two kings who would follow him so far from the daily life of Parisians, that his grandson, Louis XVI, was doomed to fail, and fail he did.

Finally, I was moved by the Hall of Mirrors. I had seen many photos of the room before, but it was something to walk through it, thinking about the Treaty of Versailles, and the disastrous path on which Europe was sent the day it was signed, redrawing the European map and punishing Germany and the Austro-Hungarian empire for having started the war. By putting a small Transylvanian village in the newly created Romania (which would quickly become extremely anti-semitic), the leaders set in motion a series of events that would cause my grandfather's family to emigrate to the United States. And by their treatment of Germany, the seed of Nazism were planted that would lead to my grandparents fleeing Germany to the refuge of America. This June 28 will mark the 100th Anniversary of the treaty's signing. Putting aside the global implications, it was quite humbling for me to walk through that room with my children, knowing our very existence depended on what was done there.

Musee D'Orsay. Sunday morning marked our first visit to an art museum. I was pleased to learn that admission is free for children under 18. I should have realized that was just a scam put on by the museum to induce those children's parents to pay their admission, knowing full well the aforementioned children would lose interest somewhere between 90 and 120 minutes, thereby creating space in the museum for the next family with children. Fortunately, Keri and I really enjoyed the brief time we had there, in particular the impressive collection of impressionist and neo-impressionist works. We look forward to returning to Paris and this museum and some future date sans les enfants. No offense, kids.

Montmartre.  A large hill at the northern end of Paris, Montmartre is home to artists, cafes and nightclubs. It is featured innumerable books and movies, having had particular prominence at turn of the last century. We walked through the neighborhood, sampled the sister store of Marais's Une Glace a Paris (also delicious), admired The Wall of Love (tiled piece with I love you written in 250 languages) before ascending to the incredible views outside the Sacre-Coeur, a Catholic church built with a Romano-Byzantine design that distinguishes it from most Parisian structures.  http://www.sacre-coeur-montmartre.com/english/.  We finished up our time at Monmartre with a visit to the front of the famous cabaret, Moulin Rogue. No video footage exists of Owen's interpretive can-can.

Champs de Elysses and Arc de Triomphe.  No visit to Paris is complete without a walk down the eternally crowded Champs de Elysses, lined with trendy global brands and the McDonalds restaurant that I happened upon as a 21-year old on my only prior trip here. A significant highlight of our walk to Champs de Elysses was that Lauren (pictured on the right, making her father superfluous) took over navigation, and did so to much acclaim. For a few moments, she and Owen walked together in front, holding my phone and collaborating over directions, while Keri and I followed, almost out of earshot.  By the time we made it to the Arc, Owen had about had it. I tried to explain how different cities have similar arches, celebrating military victories and honoring their war dead. Between the painting and walking and lack of eating, he was no longer able to even feign interest in what I was saying. Still, the Arc is a truly magnificent monument, and a powerful reminder of the military glories of France's past.

The last two days have served to remind us of some of France's significant contributions to the world -- in art, culture, and military achievement. They did not always get it right but, even when they got things wrong, as in Versailles, the French certainly did so in style.