Arms of Munich, Germany

Most recently regranted 2002; originally granted in this form 1957; in use since roughly 1304

Blazon: Argent a monk proper, robed sable, trimmed or, shod gules; in the sinister hand, a book of oaths of the last, and the dexter hand taking an oath

Munich has used the monk as either a canting element (Mönch in German) or a symbol of the local monastery – perhaps both – essentially continuously for several hundred years. The motif has transcended heraldry to be a popular local theme for postcards, beer mugs, figurines, and numerous other trinkets. The Münchner Kindl, as the figure has come to be known, also features in the city’s Oktoberfest parade and serves as a sort of municipal mascot.

Maltese Victory Day

Malta’s national holiday, Victory Day, is probably the hardest-working national day, since it covers four separate events. In a predominantly Catholic country, the 8th is the Nativity of Mary, commemorating the birth of the Virgin Mary. The Great Siege of Malta also concluded on this day in 1565 when the Ottomans finally pulled back, leaving the city to be relieved by Spanish and Italian soldiers. The French gave up their two-year blockade almost exactly 235 years later, which confirmed British rule of the island. Finally, during World War II, the Italian Siege of Malta was called off on October 16th, 1942. (It’s about a month off, but as long as you’re celebrating, might as well round up.)

Somewhat counterintuitively, the Maltese arms do not involve a Maltese cross. Instead, they feature the George Cross, the second-highest award in the United Kingdom. The entire island was granted the award for their courage and heroism under the Axis siege. When Malta declared independence in 1964, the collective award went directly on both the flag and their arms.

The Maltese cross makes only one appearance in Malta’s heraldic history; starting in 1875, it used a colonial badge of per pale argent and gules, a Maltese cross argent. The field was almost certainly drawn from the city arms of Mdina. The cross was (correctly, in my opinion) removed in 1898, and in 1943, a chief azure was added with the George Cross proper.
Even with such a relatively short timespan, there is still a somewhat awkward coat of arms jammed in to Malta’s history. In 1975, the new Republic of Malta decided to switch out the previous coat of arms, concerned about its visual recollection of the monarchy. Unfortunately, what they decided to switch it to was… shall we say, not particularly traditional? Designed by a class of art students, the new national emblem limped along, attracting criticism from heraldic experts, until it was mercifully replaced in 1988, with some modifications to the crest, supporters, and motto. (I should say that I don’t remotely blame the art students; they evidently thought they were designing a new passport cover, and I think what they produced would suit that purpose quite well! It’s just not really a coat of arms.)

Arms of Canalejas del Arroyo, Spain

Granted 1997

Blazon: Per pale argent two palets azure and vert an ear of wheat and an olive branch in saltire of the first; pointé in base barry wavy argent and azure

Unfortunately, besides the original (fairly sparse) grant, I don’t have much information on these arms at all. I would speculate that the dexter half and/or the base are possibly canting elements, given that “canal” has the same meaning in English and Spanish, and there does seem to be at least one stream in the area.

Arms of Eggersdorf bei Graz, Austria

Granted 1979

Blazon: Argent two harrow blades fesswise in pale, on a chief vert two crowns argent

These are canting arms; the town’s name comes from “Egge” (harrow). I think they tried to do something fancy to bars to represent that, but since they’re supposed to be harrow blades and they look like harrow blades, I just went with that. The colors are from the arms of the Dukes of Styria, and the two crowns represent St. Bartholomew and St. Florian. The former was the patron saint of the local church in the medieval era, and the latter is the current saint.

Arms of Rimini, Italy

Granted 1996

Blazon: Bleu-celeste on water in base barry wavy azure and argent a ship in full sail or edged gules

This one is actually pretty straightforward – the ship is a reference to the “maritime activity typical of the Rimini Riviera.” The somewhat odd depiction (very weird perspective) is a reference to a specific bas-relief in the Tempio Malatestiano. Also, given the original blazon’s description of the water as blue and the field as “cielo,” I find myself returning to the “bleu-celeste” term.

Arms of Wurmlinger, Germany

In use since at least 1971

Blazon: Argent from a triple mount in base proper a demi-lindworm sable

The town’s name (and probably also the arms) derive from an old legend about a lindworm that lived on a neighboring hill. I went with “lindworm” in the blazon instead of “dragon” because, although all the texts I’ve read don’t bother to distinguish between winged and wingless dragons in heraldry, the reports of the legend I’ve found do specify that it was a “Lindwurm,” and I’m fairly confident of the connection between the legend, the arms, and the name.

Arms of Robert Fitz Neel

(? – 1345?)

From the Dering Roll (c. 1270-1300)

Blazon: Paly of six argent and gules on a fess azure three bezants

I can’t find much out about Robert Fitz Neel besides the fact that he was a lord and landholder in Buckinghamshire. The Fitz Neels held various abbeys and manors in the region going back to at least the 1100s. After Robert’s death, his holdings passed to his daughter Grace, who died in 1350. Her minor son John de Nowers returned the properties back to Edward III.

Arms of Loire, France

Designed around 1950

Blazon: Gules a dolphin embowed or

For the department of Loire, Robert Louis borrowed the arms of the counts of Forez, which you can see in this lovely portrait of Anne of Auvergne and Louis II, duke of Bourbon in their heraldic regalia. The fleurs-de-lis and bend of Bourbon are evident both on his arms and hers (since she would’ve had the right to bear them as his wife). She was an heiress, and you can see the two other coats she inherited on her dress. Forez is in the base half, and the chief has Auvergne.

“But wait,” you say. “As an avid reader of your blog and fan of medieval French heraldry, I know that Auvergne is the gonfanon gules fringed vert!” You are partially correct, dear reader; the gonfanon did indeed belong to the counts of Auvergne. The dauphins of Auvergne, post-1302, had or a dolphin azure. They were a mostly different family, descended from Count William VII the Young. (His uncle, William VIII, usurped him, kept the title Count of Auvergne and swore fealty to Louis VII; William VII swore to Henry II, and his descendants were dauphins. Complicating matters further, the Duchy of Auvergne is a distinct political entity that became part of the French crown.)

Anyway, the point is that Anne inherited the dauphinate from her father (hence its more prominent position on her arms) and Forez from her uncle. Forez would pass to her son John, Duke of Bourbon, and would eventually become its own province until the administrative reforms of 1790. Most of it is currently the central portion of the department of Loire.

Elements of Heraldry: The Crest

The next element of heraldry Whitmore covers is the crest. While this is often used colloquially to refer to either the coat of arms itself, or the complete achievement, he points out (correctly) that the crest is just anything placed on top of the shield. The image below shows some of the more common “bases” of crests – the wreath, or torse (most common) and the cap of dignity or chapeau (generally only seen in achievements of higher nobility). The third, which Whitmore labels the “panache,” is a sort of proto-crest which consists of feathers emerging from a coronet. These aren’t particularly common in English heraldry, though they do pop up fairly often in Germanic heraldry, where multiple crests are common.

He also gives some examples of crests, sadly unidentified:

The only really remarkable thing in Whitmore’s writeup of the crest is the ostensibly hard and fast rule that “no lady has a right to use a crest.” Much like his insistence that the lozenge is forbidden as a shield shape for men, I also haven’t run across this specific rule. It’s worth saying that I haven’t seen any coat of arms borne by a non-royal woman with a crest, but it seems like a very odd thing to emphasize – with italics, no less.

Arms of Campos del Paraíso, Spain

In use since at least 2008

Blazon: Per fess gules a castle triple-towered between on the dexter a fleur-de-lis and on the sinister a lion rampant or and of the last, a tree issuant from a mount in base proper

Unfortunately, I don’t have anything on these arms either. The initial grant doesn’t seem to be available online, but 2008 seems like a plausible date. It seems like the municipality was incorporated in 1971, so that’s another possible date of granting. Sadly, the charges are generic enough that it’s hard to track them through the various influential figures and patron saints of the component towns. My best guess would be that the castle and lion are references to the arms of Castile and León in the national arms, and the tree and mount are possibly a canting allusion to the name (“fields of Paradise”).