Two Different Ways of Combining Arms of Office with Personal Arms Seen in Salzburg, Austria

Over the years we have seen again and again how a person may combine the arms of an office they hold with their personal arms on a shield. This is usually done by impaling the arms of the office on the dexter side of the shield with the personal arms on the sinister side of the shield.

In Salzburg, however, we see two other methods of combining arms of office with personal arms.

The first (and we will see more examples of this in upcoming posts from Salzburg) is to add to the shield of the personal arms a chief of the arms of the office. In these instances, the chief is the arms of the Archdiocese of Salzburg (which are identical to the older arms of the municipality of Salzburg and also the arms of the District of Salzburg: Per pale: dexter, Or a lion rampant sable; sinister, Gules a fess argent (Austria).

These are the arms of Markus Sittikus von Hohenems, 1574-1619 (Archbishop of Salzburg 1612-1619) (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Markus_Sittich_von_Hohenems): Azure a ram rampant or, with the chief of the Archdiocese.

The entire shield is surmounted with an archbishop’s galero, a wide-brimmed, flat, tasseled ecclesiastical hat. For archbishops, the galero is always green and features 20 tassels (10 on each side), visually distinguishing them from standard bishops (who have 12 tassels, six on each side).

Next, we have the personal arms of the von Kuenburg family, three of whose members were Archbishops of Salzburg: Michael von Kuenburg (Archbishop of Salzburg 1554–1560); Georg von Kuenburg (Archbishop of Salzburg 1580-1586); and Maximilian Gandolf von Kuenburg (Archbishop of Salzburg 1668-1687).

Please click on the image above to go to the full-sized photograph where you can zoom in to see the details of this shield.

The von Kuenburg arms are blazoned: Quarterly: 1 and 4, Per pale gules and argent a roundel counterchanged; 2 and 3, Per fess sable and argent a flat hinge counterchanged. The shield is surmounted by a noble’s coronet.

I would have thought the item in the second and third quarters was a millrind, a fairly common heraldic charge, but for the pretty clear knuckle, the raised, cylindrical portion in the center through which the pin passes to hold the two leaves together.

These arms could memorialize any of the three von Kuenburg archbishops, or to be honest, nearly any other member of this family.

However, this next memorial is definitely that of Michael von Kuenburg, mentioned by name and “von Gotes Genaden” (by the grace of God) Archbishop of Salzburg, dated 1559).

Here, the quarters of the arms of the von Kuenburgs are further quartered with the arms of the Archbishopric, instead of the more common usage of a chief of the Archbishopric. Quarterly: 1 and 4, the Archbishopric of Salzburg; 2, Per pale gules and argent a roundel counterchanged; and 3, Per fess sable and argent a flat hinge counterchanged.

I note that while the script gives his title as Archbishop, the galero surmounting the shield has only the twelve (six on each side) tassels of a Bishop.

I found it interesting to see these somewhat rarer forms of marshalling the arms of office with personal arms. But, as J.P. Brooke-Little put it so well in the introduction to his book An Heraldic Alphabet: "You can study heraldry until you are azure ... in the face but inevitably discover, from time to time, that you really are quite vert.... I have found this over and over again but, never forget, herein lies the fun and if heraldry ever ceases to be fun - chuck it."

Salzburg, Austria

The next stop on my friend Katie's river cruise through Europe was in Salzburg, Austria.

Where she photographed the city's coat of arms. Well, the "new" one (shall we call it "Salzburg modern"?) that's been used since somewhere around 1600, though it was only officially granted on November 14, 1931.

An English blazon of this coat of arms would be: Gules a city wall with three church towers argent roofed or.

But she also photographed this coat of arms in the city:

Here, the identification of the arms becomes somewhat more of a trick.

They could be the earlier arms of the municipality of Salzburg ("Salzburg ancient" if you will), used through the late 16th century.

Or, they could be the arms of Salzburg District;

Or, they could be the arms of the Archbishopric of Salzburg.

Because all three of those entities use or used this coat of arms, which I would blazon as: Per pale: dexter, Or a lion rampant sable; sinister, Gules a fess argent (Austria).

All in all, given the lion supporter, I tend to favor the idea that the depiction here is the arms of Salzburg District, but I could be entirely off-base here.

It does get a bit confusing, though, when you have three different entities using the same coat of arms!

Be that as it may, we are going to see this heraldry again, though in situations that make it clear that it is the arms of the Archdiocese of Salzburg which are being depicted.

Our Final Heraldic Stop in Mondsee, Austria

Our final coat of arms from Mondsee, Austria is this carved achievement of arms is located above the entrance of Schloss Mondsee (the former Mondsee Abbey).

This stone carving is the historic coat of arms belonging to the Princes of Wrede, a German princely family originating in Bavaria.

The blazon is: Or a chaplet of roses proper on a canton azure a sword erect proper. The motto on the belt encircling the shield reads: Virtuti pro patria (Power for the country).

As always, you can click on the image above to see the full-size photograph and its greater detail of this princely achievement of arms.

An Armorial Memorial to an Abbott

Our next bit of heraldry from Katie's trip to Europe is a Late Baroque epitaph and memorial plaque dedicated to Abbot Maurus Schinnagl (Latinized as Mauritius), who served as the abbot of Mondsee Abbey from 1764 until his death in 1773.

The center of the monument features a relief of an open book and a chalice, symbolizing his theological scholarship and priestly duties. Below that, the Latin inscription begins with a standard funerary invocation, “VIATOR Circumspice” (Passenger/wayfarer, Look about you), followed by his religious name, Mauritius. At the very top sits a carved head wearing a mitre (the ceremonial headdress of an abbot), signifying his high ecclesiastical office, atop two coats of arms.

The arms on the left are, once again, those of Mondsee, Austria, which we have seen in the last two posts preceding this one.

The arms on the right are those of Abbot Schinnagl. These arms consist of a human figure in chief, and three difficult-to-make-out charges in base, although the dexter-most one is very reminiscent of a lion's face. I have, alas, been unable to find any record of this coat of arms which would allow us to determine more specifically the colors and charges on the shield.

The base features a stark memento mori element—a sculpted human skull serving as a traditional reminder of mortality and the fleeting nature of earthly life.

Abbot Maurus was a significant intellectual figure for the monastery during the 18th century, actively managing its extensive library and historical archives right up until the final decades before the abbey was permanently dissolved.

Two Coats of Arms: City and Abbey

Here, on the exterior of Mondsee Abbey, we find two coats of arms side by side, the pair surmounted by a mitre:

On the left, we see the arms of Mondsee, Austria: Per fess: Azure a moon in her decriment or; and Argent three boats or each charged with three bendlets sable and rowed by a standing boatman proper habited gules hatted sable.

And on the right, the arms of the Benedictine Abbey of Mondsee: Per fess: in chief, Per pale or and sable, a two-headed eagle displayed sable issuant from the palar line, and a camel passant or; in base, Argent a circular lake surrounded by a ring of trees all proper. (A color depiction of these arms can be found on the website of Heraldry of the World, https://www.heraldry-wiki.com/wiki/Mondsee)

Mondsee Abbey (German: Kloster Mondsee) was a Benedictine monastery in Mondsee in Upper Austria. The region of the Mondseeland, in which Mondsee is located, was formerly part of Bavaria. Mondsee Abbey was founded in 748 by Odilo, Duke of Bavaria, on the ruins of a Roman settlement.

Do I know why the arms of Mondsee Abbey have a camel on them? No, I do not. It seems a most unusual charge for an establishment in Bavaria, later Austria. But then, I have found camels in the heraldry of a number of places where one would not expect them: for example, Ville de la Couronne, France; Le Poil, France; Plzn, Czech Republic; Timelkam, Austria; Tinajo, Spain; Tuineje, Spain; and the Zunft zum Kämbel ("Kämbel guild") of Zürich, Switzerland. This last is pretty clearly canting arms, but not the others.

I feel certain that there is a story in there somewhere about this coat of arms, but I have no idea what it might be.

The Unusual Arms of Mondsee, Austria

For our next stop as we follow my friend Katie on her river cruise in Europe, we come to the city of Mondsee, Austria, and it's somewhat unusual coat of arms.

Heraldry of the World, https://www.heraldry-wiki.com/wiki/Mondsee, gives us the blazon of these arms in German: Geteilt; oben in Blau ein goldener, sicheljOrmig gesichteter Vollmond; unten in Silber drei goldene, zwei zu eins gestellte Zillen mit schwarzen, schrägrechten Brandstreifen, linkshin gerodert von je einem rot gekleideten, stehenden Schiffmann mit schwarzem Filzhut.

A literal English translation of that blazon would be: Per fess: Azure a moon in her decriment* or; and Argent three golden boats, two to one, black diagonal fire stripes, each flanked to the left by a red-clad, standing boatman with a black felt hat.

A perhaps more accurate English blazon: Per fess: Azure a moon in her decriment or; and Argent three boats or each charged with three bendlets sable and rowed by a standing boatman proper habited gules hatted sable.

These arms are, in fact, canting; that is, they are a pun on the name. Mondsee = Moon sea.

* “A face in profile [on the moon] may be depicted exterior to the concave edge. With the horns facing dexter she is (or should be) blazoned ‘[a moon] in her increment’, and with the horns to the sinister ‘[a moon] in decrement’; it must, however, be pointed out that on the numerous occasions of her being er[roneously] blazoned ‘[moon] increscent’ and ‘[moon] decrescent’ (and when ‘decriment’ is printed in place of ‘detriment’), no harm is done because the intention is quite clear.” (Franklyn and Tanner, An Encyclopaedic Dictionary of Heraldry, cf. “Moon”.

I will note for my own part that not every heraldic author agrees with Franklyn and Tanner on the definitions of these terms.

Heraldry in the News!

So there I was, minding my own business, looking at some of the recent stories on-line, when I was caught by a headline:

"The Logo for Donald Trump International Airport Appears to Be AI Slop"

It turns out that recently, the Palm Beach International Airport in South Florida was renamed the President Donald J. Trump International Airport. And along with the new name, it's been given a new logo.

The story about this new name and logo was written by Frank Landymore, and posted on Fri, July 10, 2026 at 9:13 AM CDT. It can be found at hcttps://currently.att.yahoo.com/tech/ai/articles/logo-donald-trump-international-airport-141311663.html

Here's a close-up, pointing out the issues the Mr. Landymore discusses below:

"You'll notice some things that're a little off in the finer details. The talons are horribly deformed and shaped differently from each other. The entire legs are uneven, too, and the base of them are represented as a strange conglomeration of blobs, which are also inconsistent. In fact, the whole thing is slightly asymmetrical. The wings have an uneven number of feathers. The two olive branches — another error in itself, because the eagle is supposed to be clutching a bundle of arrows in its right-side talon — have differing numbers of leaves. And the shield only has eleven stripes, as opposed to the thirteen that the actual Great Seal is supposed to feature."

To all of which I would add another: there are no stars on the chief! The arms of the United States of America, the shield on the breast of the eagle, is blazoned Paly of thirteen argent and gules a chief azure. No stars anywhere.

Landymore goes on to ask if this is AI slop? "Eagle-eyed and outraged netizens didn't hesitate to make this diagnosis, with one Reddit thread calling out the Trump logo's incongruities going viral."

"'All the resources in the world and the logo for Trump Airport is AI generated,' the title lamented."

He goes on to say that, "maybe his new airport logo is kind of a perfect use case for AI. The displaying of the US Great Seal is highly restricted, so it's unlikely that an airport in Florida would be authorized to flaunt it as a logo, even if Trump himself wanted it to. But with AI, you can quickly spit out a cheap bastardization, uncanny in its likeness, but also not quite right."

Included below for comparison with the above is the Seal of the President of the United States, on a baseball-style cap that I purchased a the gift shop at the Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport when I was there a few years ago. It is pretty easy to spot the differences between a good embroidered reproduction of the seal and the "AI slop" on the signs for the new President Donald J. Trump International Airport.

As an aside, I have to admit I think my favorite part of this cap is the embroidered/embossed black-on-black eagle and shield on the brim.

Anyway, here's a full-color drawing of the full achievement of arms of the U.S. with even more detail that you can use to compare:

As someone said just a very few years ago, "I don't want artificial intelligence to write books and make art; I want artificial intelligence to do the dishes and and the laundry so I can write books and make art."

And the art on that airport sign is only one reason for wishing that.

Still Finding Heraldry Everywhere

I am, indeed, still finding heraldry everywhere, and once again, "everywhere" includes my living room.

Once again, the HGTV show House Hunters International has come through for me. A recent episode had a family looking to rent a place in Valencia, Spain. And in the course of that, the camera panned to a building:

Which, as you can see quite plainly, has a coat of arms prominently displayed on its façade:

The arms are, obviously enough, those of the Province (formerly, Kingdom) of Valencia.

They are blazoned: Or four pallets gules. And yes, that is indeed A reremouse (bat) displayed sable atop a crown or as the crest.

Interestingly, there are several similar stories about how these arms came to be:

In the first, Prince Wifred (or Wilfred) the Hairy, having been grievously wounded in a battle against the Normans, received a visit from the Emperor Charles the Bald, who dipping his finger in the blood that trickled from the wound, drew four lines down the gilded shield of Wifred, saying, “Earl be these they armorial ensigns:” — four red stripes on a gold field, which became from that time the arms of Catalonia, and afterwards of Aragon.

The second story informs us that Wifred the Hairy lay injured in his tent after doing battle with the Normans (or in some versions, the Moors) when the Emperor Louis the Stammerer visited him. The king asked Wifred how he could reward him for his heroic deeds. When Wifred asked for an insignia to decorate his shield, the king wet his fingers with the Count’s blood and traced four vertical lines on the golden shield that stood by his bedside. Thus, the coat of arms became four red pallets on a golden background.

And finally, other versions of the legend combine the two stories by saying that the golden shield was first given to Wifred the Hairy by Charles the Bald and then the four pallets added by Louis the Stammerer.

How much of these origin stories is factual, and how much simply myth, or to put it less judgmentally, a "just-so story?"*

Well, given that Wifred the Hairy died in 897 A.D., and the first generally accepted use of a coat of arms (the shield given to Geoffrey Plantagenet by his father-in-law King Henry I of England, and which was later borne by Geoffrey's grandson, William Longspee) dates to no earlier than the mid-12th century, we are dealing with a time nearly 300 years before the advent of what we now call heraldry.

Then, we have to realize that we are looking at two (or three) different origin stories for the arms, which differ in important details. And some of those details lack good historical support. For example, Charles the Bald was Emperor for only two years, 875-877, though his domains did include Catalonia.

Louis the Stammerer, the son of Charles the Bald, was never emperor, and he was King of West Francia (which included Catalonia) for only two years, 877-879.

I have not found any evidence other than these stories that either Charles or Louis ever spent time in Catalonia. Their time and attention was generally taken up elsewhere in greater France. And Louis was physically weak, which makes him even less likely to travel to the edge of his realm.

Still, it's always fun to look at origin stories of coats of arms, even when - as here - they appear not to be historically accurate.

And sometimes, you can find a coat of arms which have one of these origin stories while sitting in your own living room watching a show on television.

* A "just-so story" is an often whimsical but untestable narrative that explains the origin of a biological trait, cultural practice, or physical feature. While the term originally refers to Rudyard Kipling’s classic 1902 children's book, it is often used in science and philosophy as a critique for unproven explanations.

Another Entry in the "You Can Find Heraldry Everywhere" Collection

So there I was, just minding my own business, attending an exhibit of a Spanish painter I had not heard of before at the Meadows Museum on the campus of Southern Methodist University in Dallas, in the company of a friend and her mother. We were having a good time, seeing a lot of the paintings of Raimundo de Madrazo y Garreta (1841-1920), admiring his technique and subject matter.

Madrazo was clearly a very accomplished painter, reminding very much of earlier Spanish painters with whom I am famililar, Diego Velázquez and Francisco de Goya. Indeed, Madrazo's treatment of lace in one of his portraits called to mind Goya's very similar treatment of lace in his portrait the Señor Sabasa Garcia (one of my most favorite paintings, and one which I am grateful to have had the opportunity to see in person at the National Gallery in Washington, DC. Am I gushing? I think I am gushing. Okay, back to the topic at hand).

So, anyway, in one of the rooms was another portrait, painted in 1902 (a posthumous portrait, the sitter having died in 1901), of Carlos María Fitz-James Stuart y Palafox, 16th Duke of Alba, 9th Duke of Berwick (1849-1901). (Fortunately for you and me, the Meadows Museum allowed photographs, so I am able to share this with you.)

The 16th Duke has his own entry on Wikipedia at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carlos_Mar%C3%ADa_Fitz-James_Stuart,_16th_Duke_of_Alba. This page also has a couple of photographs of him, one taken at age 11 and another ten years later at 21. He has an interesting background, and I encourage you to visit that page to learn more about the man himself.

But, of course, almost immediately upon seeing this painting, I noticed -- as many of you probably already have -- a coat of arms in the upper left-hand corner.

As an aside, I immediately thought of an old quote by John E. Cussans in his The Handbook of Heraldry, where he says:

Many are the incidents but faintly written in the pages of history, which would have forever remained dark and illegible, but for the light flashed on them by the torch of Heraldry. A shield of Arms, a Badge, or a Rebus depicted on a glass window, painted on a wall, carved on a corbel or monument, will frequently indicate, with unerring precision, the date to which such relics are ascribed, and whose memory they are intended to perpetuate, when all verbal descriptions are wanting; and the identity of many an old portrait rests on no other authority than that of a coat of arms painted at the side.

Admittedly, here at the Meadows Museum, there was also a sign next to the painting identifying both the painter and the subject, but still ....

Anyway, here's a close-up of those arms:

Three of the four quarters of these arms should be pretty familiar to you: 1, England; 2, Scotland; and 3, Ireland. The fourth quarter is the arms of the Dukes of Alba of the House of Álvarez de Toledo, the predecessors of the de Silva and Fitz-James Stuart Dukes of Alba, respectively.

The whole shield is set with a border of alternating England (in this case, Gules a lion passant or) and France (here, Azure a fleur-de-lys or). The coronet above the shield is that of a Spanish duke, and the crest is An angel garbed in the arms of the Duke of Alba and maintaining a sword in its dexter hand and an orb in its sinister hand, all proper.

Anyway, I thought that I was just going to spend a little pleasant time looking at the paintings of a Spanish artist of whom I had no prior knowledge. And I came away with the confirmation that, once again, "You can find heraldry everywhere!"

Reel Heraldry: Anne of the Thousand Days, Final Part

For this final post on the heraldry to be seen in the 1969 movie Anne of the Thousand Days, starring Richard Burton, Genevieve Bujold, Irene Pappas, and Anthony Quayle, the heraldry we are looking at today is a bit of a mixed bag. I'd give them an "A" for effort, but in the end my feeling is that of the statement, "Close, but no cigar."

Let me show you what I mean.

There are two pieces of heraldry to discuss in this still from the movie: a standard, and a banner.

The standard (in the center of the photo) appears to be that of King Henry VIII, although it lacks the cross of St. George in the hoist. See image from Wikipedia (immediately below) for comparison.

As you can see (you may want to click on the first image to see the full-size version for better - though not great - detail), the two standards look very much alike, but the one from the movie lacks the cross of St. George/arms of England in the hoist.

Next, the arms on the banner (as opposed to what it should be, a banner of the arms) look like a close variant of the arms of Howard, Duke of Norfolk: Quarterly: 1, Gules on a bend between six crosses crosslet fitchy argent an escutcheon or charged with a demi-lion rampant pierced through the mouth by an arrow within a double tressure flory counterflory gules (Howard); 2, Gules three lions passant guardant in pale or in chief a label of three points argent (Brotherton); 3, Checky or and azure (Warren); and 4, Gules a lion rampant or (Fitzalan).

The difference in the banner here (ignoring as much as I can the fact that the mantling issues from some kind of a coronet, which is NOT the coronet of a duke, or even that of an earl, instead of a helm) has something that doesn’t look quite like crosses crosslet fitchy in the first quarter, and the second quarter has an azure field instead of gules (I can’t make out the charge(s) on this quarter at all, whether they are lions or something else) and a label of five points.

It's almost like someone who didn't know the difference between a banner of a coat of arms, and a square flag with a blue field that has a sort-of achievement of arms on it (not terribly unlike many of the state flags of various U.S. states, now that I think about it!), wanted to put the arms of Thomas Howard, 3rd Duke of Norfolk (who was the uncle of both Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard) on it, but either didn't want to, or didn't know enough to, copy them properly, and ended up with this "almost but not quite" depiction.

As I said, I'd give it an "A" for effort, because they did come "close, but no cigar" (for hitting the mark correctly.

The final coat of arms from the movie is the one on the chairback in this scene:

I have been unable to determine whose arms these are, even assuming that they are a real coat of arms and not something created from someone's imagination just for this scene in the movie.

They are somewhat difficult of blazon. There is a blue field, and three gold rampant lions, but then a small gold rose between two black, perhaps, birds? across the center of the shield.

I very much dislike in blazoning to follow the field immediately with the word "between,"* particularly when, as here, the surrounding charges seem to be of greater size (and importance) than the smaller charges in fess. So the best that I can come up with is: Azure three lions rampant, between them in fess a rose or between two [birds?] sable.

I am not truly content with that blazon, but since I have been unable to fnd these arms under this or any other blazon, I'm not sure that I need to worry much over it. Is it a "real" coat of arms? It may be. And if it is, it is also entirely possible that the colors of the field and/or the charges are incorrectly painted. But I'm not going to spend the time necessary tracking down all of the possible arms of "[field] three lions rampant, between them in fess a rose between two birds." Just sayin'.

Still and all, it's been an intersting romp through this particular old movie, looking at all the heraldry, seeing what they got right, what they got wrong, and what they almost got right. I hope that you have enjoyed this as much as I have. And if you ever get the chance to see this movie in the future (it's available on DVD, and shows up occasionally on Turner Classic Movies on cable), I hope you notice its many displays of heraldry!

* The general rule of blazon that I learned years and years (and years!) ago was to "blazon from the field up, and from the center out". That is to say, blazon the field first, then the charges lying on the field, then the charges lying on other charges; and also blazon from the center of the shield first, and then the outer or peripheral charge(s).