The Type 41 Royale and the new Veyron, two million-dollar Bugattis—one by virtue of its heritage, the other by virtue of its price tag.

The answer to the first question begins with the second. The Bugatti marque was founded in 1909 by Ettore Bugatti. The charismatic cars "Le Patron" and his craftsmen quietly manufactured by hand in Molshiem, France, became by the onset of World War II, the stuff of myth. Born in 1881 in Italy, the son of a talented furniture designer, Ettore was more an artist than an engineer, his interest in mechanical devices driven by his keen observational skills. From 1900 to 1908, others—most notably Deutz—financed Bugatti’s experimentation with automotive design and engineering. This learning period allowed him to attain both the mechanical aptitude and confidence necessary to form his own company—though Ettore was much more an artist than an innovator or executive, ruling his factory like a personal fiefdom and often touring the facility on horseback. When his employees went on strike in 1936, his autocratic, eccentric nature was so offended that he moved to Paris, leaving his son Jean, then in his 20s, in charge of the works.

Ettore’s creative talents combined beautifully with numerous racing successes in the 1920s, such that, during the following decade, the Bugatti Type 55 and 57 enjoyed reputations as grand as their production numbers were small. These breathtaking 100-mph hand-built roadsters were in effect the motorized manifestations of a highly refined aesthetic that would inform the lineaments of future car designers.

The year 1939, however, marked the beginning of Bugatti’s decline. This turn of fate began with the death of Jean during a test drive, only one month before World War II broke out. The loss of his son and the sweeping chaos of war were dual blows from which Ettore never recovered. He died in 1947, leaving behind him a company that floundered under the direction of his youngest son, Roland. The last Bugatti—the supercharged 200-hp 101C—emerged from the workshop in 1951. Yet Ettore’s legacy would not only survive, but flourish, as new generations discovered the pure beauty and power he brought to his designs. The stature of cars among historians and collectors has burgeoned since production ceased, and the cars themselves have consistently set records at auction: One of the six Type 41 Royales made sold at auction in the 1980s for several million dollars.

Bugatti has attracted his share of disciples, one of whom attempted to architect his messiah’s resurrection. Italian entrepreneur and auto enthusiast Romano Artioli resuscitated the Bugatti name in 1987, constructing a purpose-built factory outside Modena, Italy, home to Ferrari, Maserati, and a number of other high-line sports cars. Artioli’s intention was to recapture the alchemical ambiance of the Molshiem works in the 1920s and ’30s, but his launch of the ultra-sophisticated $400,000-plus Bugatti EB110 was ill timed. The world economy had slipped into a crippling recession by 1992, when he brought to market his 215-mph mid-engine super car, of which just over 100 were built before Bugatti closed for the second time in 1995.

Through his company’s bankruptcy proceedings, Artioli managed to keep the rights to the Bugatti name; these he sold to VW-Audi in 1998. The "new" (or third) Bugatti exhibited several prototypes in the late 1990s before committing to production of the Veyron. For the past four years, this expectant experiment has undergone unprecedented exercises in engineering and testing with the object of making it the fastest street car in history: The Veyron claims a top speed of 252 mph, preceded by a quantum 0-to-186 mph acceleration in less than 14 seconds.

What place does the Veyron hold in the august lineage of Bugatti? The investment potential of the Veyron can best be gauged in the context of the valuations of surviving Bugattis designed and built by Ettore. "Bugattis are just like what you will find on the Big Board and Nasdaq," says Julie Summerville, one of California’s top collector-car appraisers, who has held Series 7 and Series 8 securities licenses. "You have your blue chips, and you have your dogs." Her rules for investing in cars are getting "the first of a kind, the last of a kind, and racecars. But you should only consider the latter," she adds, "if its provenance (the car’s documented history from the time it was made to the present day) is bulletproof."

Summerville points to the Type 35, which raced extensively in the 1920s, as an apt demonstration of a Bugatti’s investment potential. A Type 35B, she notes, sold in 1983 for $85,000. Another example with a strong provenance sold earlier this year at auction for just over $1 million—more than double the figure that the typical Type 35 fetches.

Because the Veyron has been presented as a street car rather than as a machine with competition objectives, a more suitable analogue from the classic pantheon might be the immortal Bugatti Type 57 from the 1930s. Summerville considers this model "blue chip for the right car," and auction results bear out her opinion. According to Sports Car Market, a publication that tracks auction results, in 1999 a Type 57S Atalante cabriolet sold for $1,267,500. In 2001, a spectacular 1939 57SC made for Prince Pahlevi of Iran brought close to $1.8 million.

Despite its technical sophistication, the Veyron’s investment appeal among Bugatti collectors remains uncertain.

Collectors’ eagerness to write seven-figure checks for these more than 60-year-old cars has much to do with Ettore the man. "It is obvious that Bugatti was an artist by training and an engineer by intuition," says Paul Russell, one of the world’s top automotive restorers who restored Ralph Lauren’s Pebble Beach Best of Show-winning Bugatti Atlantique. "When you look at the components that made up a Bugatti, you see beautiful, individually made parts. For example, on a Type 59, the chain cable, the front axle, and the gear drive covers are all exquisitely made."

"Bugattis are basically one of the best examples of a car as art," seconds Summerville. "It doesn’t matter what you look at, right down to the bolts; each was done with an artistic flair. The way the trim was fastened to the car was unique to each [vehicle]."

The allure of Bugatti has always centered on the man, his myth, and his unwavering passion for exacting artistry—which explains, at least partially, why the marque vanished when Ettore passed away. The essence of the cars is to enthusiasts the essence of "Le Patron," just as today’s collector Ferraris, in the minds of those who purchase them, represent a "piece" of Enzo Ferrari. Which is where Artioli’s ambitious effort in the late 1980s missed the point: Cover the Bugatti badge on the wedge-shaped EB110’s nose, and the car could have just as easily been a Lamborghini.

The same cannot be said of the Veyron, which has a distinctive identity all its own. Still, knowledgeable enthusiasts such as Russell are skeptical the Veyron will ever be thought of as a "real" Bugatti because it has no tie to the past: No heir to a Bugatti engineer or designer ever went near the project. "It will depend a great deal on whether they do anything to continue the mythology," he notes. "They have bought the property in France where the cars were originally made and are building a factory there. It is the execution of that that will tell a lot."

A marque, however, is more than a factory. Artioli’s earlier facility certainly had the right ambiance and attention to detail—even the drainage grates were adorned with the Bugatti "EB" logo. Moreover, the technically advanced EB110 was highly regarded in the automotive community at the time of its introduction when it was new; yet today, these vehicles struggle to fetch 50 percent of their 1992 selling price of $350,000.

Given the fate of the EB110, the new Veyron’s destiny as an investment—should deliveries begin as planned in late 2004—will depend more on its merit than its badge. If the purchaser covets the pure G-force thrill of the fastest accelerating street car ever made (assuming Bugatti attains its ambitious stated performance targets), the prospects for long-term appeal will certainly improve. At the same time, anyone set to order a Veyron with an eye to cashing in on the Bugatti myth should reflect carefully on the arc of Artioli’s Icarian flight: In other words, that an individual should invest his money in whatever endeavor afforded him the ability to write a seven-figure check in the first place.