The History of the Royal Houses of Europe, 850-Present
A thousand years ago — so the legend goes — God offered the Hapsburgs a choice: “You can have Europe,” he told them, “or you can have chins. But you cannot have both.”
They made their decision, and they were happy with it.
When the time came to design their coat of arms, no one could accuse the Hohenzollerns of not knowing their own minds.
“Two Tom Bombadils, a weird-ass bird, and a bell that turns into a dress.”
The heraldist protested. “My Lords, I–”
“Two Tom Bombadils. A weird-ass bird. A bell that turns into a dress.”
So it remains to this very day.
It took four bishops, six men-at-arms, and a letter from the Pope just to get a hat on Charles V every morning.
This was of course nothing next to King Pharamond, who required constant hat supervision.
After Franz II, the Holy Roman Emperors took a quiet but determined interest in hats and wigs.
Some say World War One was brought on by the tendency of the Electors of Prussia, Brandenburg and Lower Silesia to neglect matters of state in order to meet at their summer estates along the Rhine and grow mustaches at one another.
No one was smaller than Louis I.
“Cheer up,” the Hapsburgs would say to one another in particularly low moments. “At least you’re not a Stuart.”
It could not be argued that the Grand Dukes of Muscovy were the cuddliest-looking of dynasties; every year the Pug Dog Lookalike contest was theirs.
No one ever laughed at the Third Hand of the House of Capet more than once.
“No, nothing on the left knee. I just want the lion heads on the right knee and both shoulders; I don’t want to look weird.”
Underneath their puffy jackets, most of the Kings of Hungary stood about two foot four and weighed between forty-five and forty-seven pounds. When startled or threatened, the average Hungarian royal could puff himself up to as much as three times his normal size.
“Is it like a hat, or a growth, or…” No one could ever bring himself to finish the question in front of Sigismund I.
Of course, servants were much smaller and more affordable then, and often rowed themselves into royal dining-halls on castle boats, offering their tiny services.
Tags: european history, history, i will never call them the habsburgs, i wish we had a king right now, jokes from an ardent monarchist, no but for real i believe in the divine right of kings, the hapsburgs, this blog is just slowly turning into Mallory Clowns on The AP Euro Syllabus
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Tom Bombadils or no Tom Bombadils, that is the most yonic bell-that-turns-into-a-dress I’ve ever seen. Perhaps the heraldist had his revenge after all?
Plus one for using the word yonic.
It even has an anus.
And, if you sort of squint, the words “MOM MOM MOM” right above the anus.
Anyone else reminded of George Carlin’s tattoo advice?
“If you guys want to get a MOM tattoo and save a little money, just get two letters done. Get about a one-inch capital M tattooed on each cheek of your ass in pink and brown ink. Then when you bend over, it says “Mom.” Also, later on if you’re havin’ sex with your girlfriend, and her parents are in the next room, when you finish up you can just lie on your back, draw your legs up to your chest and silently say, ‘Wow!””
“You laugh at the Third Hand, you get the Orb”
Some say World War One was brought on by the tendency of the Electors of Prussia, Brandenburg and Lower Silesia to neglect matters of state in order to meet at their summer estates along the Rhine and grow mustaches at one another.
I can confirm this is correct. The Rhine is prime mustache-growing territory, and July/August is when the mustaches are in full blossom. To do otherwise would have been irresponsible.
I think the weak chins were an inbreeding defect, according to my fourth-grade Marie Antoinette Royal Diary. And there was like one Hapsburg ever who didn’t have it, but then she got smallpox and had to wear a veil everywhere, so the chin was entirely wasted.
I love this post so much I want to marry it and have stunted, inbred children with no chins, lion kneecaps and Nicholas II-level facial hair.
I prithee, Mallory, please continue clowning on the AP Euro History syllabus, as it is verily a delight in mine eyes.
Monk 1
what did Stefan the Great of Moldavia’s mouth look like
Monk 2
he had perfectly round rosebud lips
always pursed as if he were whistling a jaunty tune
Monk 1
anything else cool about him?
Monk 2
he had luscious chestnut curls cascading past his shoulders
every late-medieval Romanian noblewoman was jealous of his hair
like basically he looked like a hot jesus dripping with jewels
Monk 1
sounds like an awesome guy
I totally get why they canonized him
Whistlin’ Stefan
Also known as Catcallin’ Stefan
This monarch has everything.
The Prussian one made me think that the Germanic states really fell apart because of that one dude on the lower right’s tendency to passively aggressively fart when he didn’t get his way. I like to think he’s leaning into it and enjoying all the side-eye he’s getting.
But also I’m still taking cold medication, so…it might be that.
I’m really okay with this blog turning into Mallory Clowns on the AP Euro Syllabus. Carry on.
“I’m not an infante anymore, you know? I’m 16 now, I’m king of Spain and Portugal, I’m master of the New World. I feel like it’s time for a New Me too, you know what I’m sayin’?”
“Not really. Like you’ll cut your hair or something?”
“Not…I was, actually, I was thinking of growing it out a bit. Or…have you seen Diego’s look? Like that, maybe.”
“Diego the painter? So, what, Felipe, you’re going to dress in black and grow a handlebar mustache?”
“I said like that. Obviously I’m not going to copy him.”
“‘kay.”
“And don’t call me Felipe, either. From now on…
“…I am El Quatro.”
He looks frighteningly like the younger brother of a childhood friend of mine. My most vivid memory of him is a family skiing trip I was invited to tag along for when I was 15 and he was about 12. At the bottom of the trail, he turned to me with a grin and said, “Did you see when I hit that little kid with my pole and he fell down?”
Which, come to think of it, is exactly what a Hapsburg would do if given half a chance.
He really had a thing for Velázquez; the sitting and watching him paint for hours, painting in the cross of the order of Santiago on Velázquez’s self-portrait in Las Meninas, treating him like an honored artist instead of a competent craftsman….
Yeah, I ship it.
Felipe refused to sit for more paintings because he was getting decrepit; it’s my theory that Las Meninas is an affectionately joking gift.
“You know how it sucks to sit for paintings, even when your _adorable_ baby daughter and several other people clown around to amuse you while you pose? And then at the end you get to STOP posing, and leave the room? Here’s a painting of that instant, the instant where you can give the Infanta kisses and drink some wine and check out what I’ve done in the last hour.”
Damn, I needed this today. I needed it BAD.
I just have to let you know…I recently saw a conference paper on that last image and it is an illustration of servants performing a dinner show for a bunch of rich folk complete with pyrotechnics and everything. So basically it is proof that Medieval Times (TM) actually happened in medieval times.
My AP Euro teacher diagnosed the Hapsburgs with “flounderism — so inbred their eyes were on one side of their head.”
CHINS! What are they good for? Absolutely NOTHING.
They ain’t nothing but heartbreakers!
But obviously they’re “designed to be punched”, right? <<shitty science interlude>> http://www.bbc.com/news/science-environment-27720…
Maybe the Hapsburgs were like “We are terrible at getting punched, let’s find a way to avoid getting into situations where people will punch us. Divine monarchy? Good. Good solution. Very little punching.”
JESUS GOD LOOK AT ALL THE FOREHEADS
as a threehead by birth I am mad with jealousy
I wish I could lend you some of my fivehead to balance things out. In the meantime, I’m sticking to my bangs.
brb turning the Hohenzollerns crest into the best Barbie cake EVER.
I want pics.
This is almost enough to make me learn photoshop. Almost.
I must confess I was hoping for a Pinterest disaster version.
WHAT is the name of the Hugh-Capetian hand-on-a-stick? I must Etsy one immediately. don’t tell me it’s just a regular old scepter thingamabob, it must have a special name. I will commission one, or several, with various finger postures for different moods.
I think it is called a “Ruckenkratzer”, after the ancient people of the Ruck, and their practice of kratzing.
I have not kratzed in _years_.
Apparently it’s a Thai ethnobotanic drug? I wish to confirm that I have never kratzed, I do only legal things, ever.
hahaha holy shit, from Wikipedia
M. speciosa is indigenous to Thailand and, despite growing naturally in the country, has been outlawed for 70 years and was originally banned because it was reducing the Thai government’s tax revenue from opium distribution.
Nice one, Thailand
good god, I didn’t know to what extent you might be joking so I looked it up and when you google that you get a UK ebay listing for a “gentleman’s ball scratcher for executive gentlemen” that, yes, does look just like Hugh Capet’s one. so much for the mysteries of sacred kingship.
just whole rooms of executive gentlemen scratching their balls with a stick
This made me laugh so hard I almost choked on my lunch.
Hahahah, I am the best at jokes.
I’m picturing a rack of hand scepters for different needs. One pointing, one flipping you off, one to hook things with, a fist, a high five, so many options!
Maybe something modular so you can just keep the hands in your pocket? Or a fanny pack if you plan to have as many as I would.
Upon further reflection, I’d probably only use the one with the bird.
Maybe one scepter with detachable hands you can keep in a pack and rotate out.
one for rock, one for paper, one for scissors
The succession is determined in this way.
On the off chance you weren’t joking, it’s called a main de justice.
but of course I wasn’t joking, and thank you very much! I feel ashamed that I didn’t already know that because that is just the sort of thing I like to know and to pretend that I always knew. but I also feel good because now I will know what to ask for for my birthday. and I had a good time looking it up on French wikipedia too.
They still have their hearts buried separately from their bodies, which is just seriously fucking cool. Also, I’ve been incredibly lucky to meet the Archduke Dr. Geza von Habsburg three times, and – contrary to the images of his relatives – he’s a fine figure of a man. Not young, of course, but incredibly charming, AND he knows more about Fabergé than anyone on the planet, AND he does that thing where he shakes your hand with one hand and gently clasps your wrist with the other. JFC *swoon*
heart buried separately what??
It’s a Hapsburg tradition that goes back centuries. I think it was originally a Medieval necessity – they removed the heart and internal organs to prevent the body from rotting during transport. So the heart and the viscera started to be buried separately, and I think there are Hapsburg crypts somewhere dedicated specifically to each. They still do it – Otto Von H died a couple of years ago, and his body was buried in Vienna and his heart was buried in Budapest. He said it was because he wanted to show his affection for Hungary.
I am massively fascinated by the world of modern-day heirs to thrones that no longer exist, so I’m pretty jealous of that. (I may have got in a Wikipedia hole today starting from the current heir to the Hohenzollerns.)
For what it’s worth, I’ve spent a few holidays at the home of a Liechtenstein baron when I was a kid. He’s not an heir to anything cool, unfortunately.
Wait, WHY do they have their hearts buried separately??
Because of reasons.
Related: I am reading a biography of Alexandra Feodorovna. A previous borrower of this book left copious notes in the margins (in pencil, at least) and they are a delight. Some of my faves:
– “End of autocratic rule!!!” I got some bad news about Russia for you, buddy
– “The dowager predicts bad things ahead.”
– “The tsar could hire no good men.”
– “Alexandra gave her husband innocent yet insulting advice.”
“Every Russian Novel Ever (cont’d), 27-30.”
Hahah, the funny thing is that those guys on the Hohenzollern coat of arms (“supporters”, because they hold up the shield) are just straight up “Wild Men.” They appear in a bunch of coats of arms, and seem to represent weird half-naked guys that live in the woods and talk to animals.
So, two Tom Bombadils, yes, that is exactly correct.
“Cheer up, at least you’re not a Stuart”.
So true, dude, the Stuarts were *dicks*. Like, look up any of them after about 1550 and you’ll be rolling your eyes within two paragraphs- or for some of them, giving full-body shudders.
To fit in with the art theme: Have a google for the Rubens paintings on the ceiling of the Banqueting House. James I commissioned them- to include “The Apotheosis of James I”. Big believer in the Divine Right of Dicks, I mean Kings.
It was worth bringing in the bloody Georges just to get rid of the bloody Stuarts.
(Mary * and Anne were the least bad. Male Stuarts? DICKS.)
* As in William-and-Mary, that is.
Wasn’t James VI and I know for being really hideous, also? I remember reading about his tongue seeming too big for his mouth, so he dribbled all the time (although maybe it was another Stuart).
What, no Plantagenets? (I am very fond of them, partly due to Shakespeare and partly because my boyfriend, despite being not in the least bit post, is seemingly descended from John of Gaunt. Apparently a huge proportion of the English middle class are descended from Edward III, because he had loads of children, but it’s still quite cool that it’s documented in his case.)
My first thought upon seeing the two Tom Bombadils was of the weird Christian imagery that pops up in heraldry around then and that perhaps they were both Adam. Two Adams. No, of course not, they clearly subscribed to the Adam & Steve version of creation. At this my affection for the Hohenzollerns knew no bounds.