Royalty's Tarnished Scepters

Like nearly every other year for the past 50 or so, 1974 has been a bad time for royalty. Not only did Greek voters reject King Constantine, but a military junta ousted Ethiopia's venerable (82) Emperor Haile Selassie. Sooner rather than later, it seems, history will bear out the bitter bon mot of Egypt's King Farouk, who himself was forced to abdicate in 1952. In a few years, said Farouk, there will be only five kings in the world: the King of England and the four in the deck of cards.

Actually, most ex-Kings and claimants to nonexistent thrones live better than their ex-subjects. Spain and Portugal seem to be the favorite spots of exile, with Switzerland a close third. Albania's Leka I, Bulgaria's Simeon II and Russia's Grand Duke Vladimir--who presumably would be enthroned as Czar Vladimir III if the Romanovs were ever restored to power--live in Spain. Italy's Umberto II, Spain's Don Juan and Portugal's own Duarte, Duke of Braganza reside in Portugal. In Switzerland, there are Michael of Rumania and Ahmed-Fuad II of Egypt (Farouk's eldest son), while Otto von Hapsburg, the heir to the Austro-Hungarian empire who now calls himself Dr. Hapsburg, lives in West Germany and writes and lectures. The leading claimant to the French throne, Henri d'Orleans, the Count of Paris, lives in the country that, but for history, he might have ruled. Even Brazil shelters a would-be monarch: Alexander II of Yugoslavia, whose father, the deposed King Peter, died of pneumonia in California in 1970.

Some of the royals have gone to work. Prince Louis Murat, whose great-great-great grandfather briefly ruled the kingdom of Naples in Napoleon's day, is president of Compagnie Ferguson Morrison-Knudsen, a Paris-based subsidiary of America's Morrison-Knudsen Co., while Michael of Rumania is a stockbroker in Lausanne. Some live off the money they or their family got out of the country. Others, like Italy's Umberto, manage very well with the help of monarchist friends who either hope to restore them to power or are moved by a sense of nostalgia.

Almost all have given up hopes of returning. Don Juan and Umberto still hold shadow court in Portugal's Estoril, but more as a gesture to the past than a look to the future. Albania's Leka and Bulgaria's Simeon, on the other hand, still work for the day when their people will come to their senses and call them back. The only one who seems to have a real chance of resuming the kingly tradition, however, is Don Juan's son Prince Juan Carlos, who has been promised the Spanish throne on the death of Generalissimo Francisco Franco.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.