Mystery Hotties!

I'm not going to name these famous peeps because it's ten times more hilarious when it finally dawns on you who is in said youthful picture. And you're horrified with yourself. You may apply bleach to your brain. I'll give you hints for chuckles.

 Geoffrey Rush played this hottie in a movie, but he's sadly not a pirate.

Would have been the best pirate ever though.

It was getting late, near time to go home. But then a fella named Reagan walked into my office with catch phrases' that just didn't quit, ya know? Sure, I told 'im after I heard his spiel. I'll tear down that wall.

Another tragic victim of morphine and cake addiction. I warn you now. You cannot unsee his final form. Just one more, because godamn, what a waste: 

Ugh fuck you cake and morphine and hating minorities... ugh

Crazy as shit, you can thank him for the Disney castle. Look at those eyes of crazy hotness.

For Meghan. This hipster purged himself into mainstream normativity. TRY-HARD!

I'd make some joke about running laps but heh effort

This dissident still has those perfect cheekbones. So jealous. 

Boss Nass's inspiration. Seriously, look it up if you don't believe me.

Then he did this to the faces of like, 5,000,000 bajillion Nazis

One of these things was not like the others. Et tu, Brute?

Hopefully you got a few 'noooooooooooo' moments in there. Hotties are often dicks, it's true.

Alexander Hamilton: "The Veriest Inamorato You Perhaps Ever Saw"

Most of us have celebrity crushes of one sort or another. When your daily adventures are humdrum at best, it's remarkably comforting to read the stories of other, more interesting people and know that things could one day get interesting for you...

Hey, it worked for Perez Hilton. Now people read about him. And his fabulous outfits.

Since the ladies of History's Hotties are snobs of the past, we tend to treat notables of days gone by as veritable celebrities of their own right. If you've read our blog in the past, you probably have a pretty good idea as to whose lives we like to "celebrify."

For instance, I enjoy Keith Moon. Just a reminder.

All affection for The Who aside, I must admit that one of my favorite historical hotties is actually not so overwhelmingly sexy. (But who is sexier than Keith Moon, really?) Not physically, anyway. If you regularly read our blog (which would be difficult, since we haven't posted in a couple of months), you know that I find articulate and motivated men more attractive than perhaps any others. That being said, I'm sure it comes as no surprise than one of my favorite men of the past is Alexander Hamilton.

Yes, that man there.

Hamilton was many things. A womanizer. A college drop-out. Perhaps most notably, a bad shot.

Damn you, Aaron Burr.

An orphan from the Caribbean, good old Alex was sent to what is now Columbia University with money raised by his friends and neighbors. The people around him saw clearly what you, too, will soon recognize: Hamilton was destined for great things. Like the $10 bill thing.

Hamilton was a bit impatient, though. Certainly not one to wait for greatness to fall into his lap. So he essentially flipped off his kind Caribbean benefactors, dropping out of Columbia to join the army.

Luckily for Hamilton, George Washington himself sought a fiery aide-de-camp of questionable birth. With this connection, Hamilton rose quickly through the ranks of popular memory.

Perhaps nothing contributed to Hamilton's social ascension as much as his marriage to Elizabeth Schuyler. Elizabeth, known to Hamilton as Betsey, was the second-eldest daughter of American commander Philip Schuyler. Philip Schuyler? Who is that? Unlesss you know any absurdly hip young parents, the name "Schuyler" probably means nothing to you.

Philip Schuyler was a well-bred, well-connected Dutchman who dabbled in politics, business, and military affairs. Schuyler was a surveyor by trade, much like his close friend George Washington. The pair were essentially the 18th-century equivalent of frat brothers.

You just got iced, bro.

In any case, back in the day, Schuyler was the guy to befriend. Hamilton did a pretty good job, getting with the quietly intellectual Elizabeth. According to Hamilton's grandson, Allan McLane, the marriage was perfect for both parties. "The surroundings and circumstances of Elizabeth Schuyler's life had all tended to prepare her for her future as Hamilton's wife. Had she been any other than what she was, despite all his genius and force of character, Hamilton could never have attained the place he did."

Elizabeth certainly was a huge help to her husband; not only did she re-copy drafts of his documents to make them more legible, she also was called "as much [Hamilton's] treasurer as [Hamilton] was treasurer of the United States." And of course, when Hamilton got caught in an affair with the (gasp) married Maria Reynolds, Elizabeth spent the majority of her time buying up every copy of her husband's confession so that she might destroy it. To her dying day, Mrs. Hamilton never forgave James Monroe, who had been responsible for turning over the document to the press.

And yet...despite Elizabeth's obvious superior morality to that of her husband, Hamilton had a few things going for him. His brilliance, frankly, was staggering. He came from nothing, and, with the help of people he never credited, left the world as one of the U.S.A.'s most significant founding fathers.

And he had a way with words...in a 1781 letter to Elizabeth, good old Alex wrote, "Every day confirms me in the intention of renouncing public life, and devoting myself wholly to you. Let others waste their time and their tranquility in a vain pursuit of power and glory; be it my object to be happy in a quiet retreat with my better angel." Aww! Even while he was busy cheating on Elizabeth with Mrs. Reynolds (that hookerface), Hamilton wrote sweet things to his wife..."Think of me--dream of me--and love me, my Betsey, as I do you." Though the timing of his affair and those affectionate words might lead you to question Hamilton's honesty, fear not! Our brilliant subject took care of that worry as well. To his friend John Laurens, he wrote, "Believe me, I am a lover in earnest." To another friend: "You cannot imagine how domestic I am becoming. I sigh for nothing but the company of my wife and baby." In a final attempt to win the title of the most romantic man with powdered tresses, Hamilton claimed that he was the "veriest inamorato you perhaps ever saw."

What modern woman wouldn't sigh for love letters like those Hamilton wrote to Betsey? I'd skip the cheating and the duel, but I'd gladly take Alex's smarts, charm, and drive to manage the U.S. treasury (seriously...where are those practical financial minds today?). And despite what I said at the beginning of this post, Hamilton actually was pretty good-looking. The whole Federalist thing was pretty hot, too. But that's a story for another day.

A Couple to Tide You Over....

Since we're busy with other things (mainly finding jobs/food/shelter), we've been a bit too busy to update lately. Rest assured, we have stuff in the works, from Byron to Bolsheviks. But in the meantime, a few random hotties of the past: 

Napoleon's son, the Duke of Reichstadt, looking like a freaking advertisement for fitted jackets. Hi there, sorry I'm so busy with my many books... of sexiness.

Lewis Powell may have been a murderous wack-job who had a boner for trying to destroy the Union, but damn son, look at that surly expression of lust! (and or pissed-off misery). I'd let him hide out in my barn, poor assassination attempts or no. 

I have no idea who this dude is other than a cossack, but he's hot as hell. Look at that jaunty cap. And a sword?! He must have been getting poontang like a fucking honey badger.

This guy will get an article all his own soon enough... Chiang Kai-Shek, Republican leader of China, defeated by Mao: both hot, smart, and ballsy. Look up his wife and weep at your hideousness, people of the world. At least half of Mao's problems probably stemmed from the fact that he never looked half as good as Chiang. I mean, come on.

I'm not a huge fan of the ears, but Felix Yusupov was just a crazy motherfucker aside from having pretty eyes.

You might know him as the dude who killed Rasputin, but he also liked to cross dress in his mom's clothing and troll tsarist generals at nightclubs. LULZ!
 

Maybe it was the actor who played him in that movie we watched in my Modern Literature class, or maybe it's the fact that he stuck it hard and good (until he got shot) to Western powers, but Patrice Lumumba, briefly prime minister of the Congo, is a baaaaaaaaabe.

A post about keeping you posted.

We know, we know. It's been awhile since we've posted on here, and you miss us. But a lot has been going on in the History's Hotties universe! A brief list of what has kept us otherwise occupied:

1) The ides of March.

2) A trip to Madame Tussaud's to find more hot men of the past for the blog. (Results: John D. Rockefeller had rather nice baby blue eyes.)

3) Creating a Twitter account! (Find and follow us on Twitter! In our infinite creativity, we have decided our user name will be Historyshotties.)

4) Talking about making a Tumblr to be updated with hilarious images and corresponding captions daily.

5) Learning about other awesome historical work being done by our peers. Please be sure to check out this blog on historical scandal by some good friends of ours! http://historicalscandals.wordpress.com

That is all for now. We promise, we will post again very soon!

Guest Piece: Napoleon- The Hottest (not so short) Military Dictator

This hilarious and totally accurate bio is by Andy Roblee. I agree with all of his assessments on Napoleon. Truly, a titanic history hottie. 

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It is my pleasure to guest author a very special installment of History’s Hotties. It is special in a few different ways. First of all it is special because I am authoring it. Second of all it will be the first HH written by a member of the “bescrotumed community.” This is now the correct nomenclature. Third of all it is about one of Anglocentric history’s most misrepresented and unfairly portrayed sexual beings. Napoleon Bonaparte. 

Yo England and Russia! Y'ALL BE HATERSSS! 

Napoleon, as some know, was born in Corsica, an island ruled by France, but in every possible way Italian. Aww yeah, that’s a spicy meatball!!! Napoleon came from a family of provincial nobles, essentially nobodies. Through his own dynamite looks and pile driving ass he was able to earn a spot at the French military academy, where he excelled in all of his studies. His best subjects were physics and math, foreshadowing his future brilliance as an artillery officer. All those brains and a baby face with pouty lips? Even I’m getting a “nerd boner!”

 This is Kate putting in another hot picture of Napoleon, because hey, why not? 

After becoming a Brigadier General at the age of 26 and bringing the post-terror violence in France to an end, Napoleon then decided that the half dozen other countries at war with France should get their asses spanked. Again and again they tried to bring him down. Again and again he shook out his wild hair and penetrated hard and deep into the enemy lines.

 This belt was actually the world's first "fanny pack"

I’ll skip all the sweet details of how amazing Napoleon was, but I will take a second to clear up a long standing misconceptions perpetrated by the British/American cultural discourse on him. Napoleon was not short. He was 5’8”, actually tall for his time and place. The Coalition powers called him an ogre or “small” because he wasn’t royalty. He rose to greatness b virtue of his own merit and Italian sexual gravitas.

In 1804 the citizens of France let old “Boney” know just how fine they thought he was by voting in favor of his Emperorship in two separate plebiscites. That’s when natural beauty met the world of imperial fashion. The meeting of these two forces exploded all over the canvas, as you can see!

 Somebody grab me a towel...

In the end baby face Napoleon bit off more than he could chew and tried to invade Russia from the west. Everyone knows that you have to come from the other direction if you want to beat Russia (see: Mongols, Japan). He was exiled to Elba to serve as “Emperor” there. He tried to make a comeback and gave everyone a little trickle of fear in their pants before finally being sent off to little St Helena to die. In English speaking countries everywhere he is portrayed as a fat little angry man who wanted to control the entire world. In other places like France, Poland, and Italy, he is remembered correctly, as a liberator and a reformer with piercing blue eyes and sheer mammalian sexual energy.

Damn, youz a sexy chick, part two: Lizzie and Christina

First of all, "like" History's Hotties on Facebook. It's the least you could do to thank us for our efforts on behalf of your reading pleasure.

Secondly, I think Kate was on to something with her post about history's sensual women. In fact, suggestions to include women have been the most frequent ones I've heard from the surprising number of people who've taken a look at our blog. Granted, I am more interested in raw masculinity, so most of my posts will remain centered on that concept.

Okay, not that raw.

But. I can recognize a gorgeous woman just as easily as anyone else with high estrogen levels. We ladies know good looks and gumption when we see them. (How men claim themselves unable to understand which of their same-gendered peers are hot and which are not is beyond me. I'm actually not sure I believe them. As Kate once said (a few weeks ago, just before Valentine's Day), men are like "terrible puzzles from hell." They probably know full well which of their male friends are totally adorable and just refuse to admit it, to maintain that complicated mystique we ladies so stupidly find attractive.)

Anyway. I do tend to ramble. I apologize. (Only not really, because I like doing it.)

So, yeah. Lovely ladies. History's full of them. Kate's discussed some whose sensuality lay both in the physical arena and the I-am-going-to-employ-my-wiles-to-get-money arena. Gorgeous and impressively-manipulative women.

Because I'm a bit of an idealist, though, the women I find most attractive are those who were not only totally gorgeous, but who also put their minds and bodies to use for the aesthetic improvement of the world. (Rather than just the sexual improvement of rich men.) My favorite of these? Elizabeth Siddal and Christina Georgina Rossetti.

Now, if you know me at all, you know I'm a huge fan of the Pre-Raphaelites. And both of these women played crucial roles in that artistic movement. First, Lizzie Siddal.

Wearing all this needlessly heavy fabric tires me out!

Siddal is best known as the model and muse to Dante Gabriel Rossetti, and model to many of the other Pre-Raphaelites (all of these young men probably took turns with her; her heart, however, belonged to Rossetti).

John Everett Millais' "Ophelia," for which he floated Siddal in a bathtub of cold water for many hours on end. She became very, very ill after this modeling session. But Millais was right to make Shakespeare sensual like this. It's stunning and, frankly, insanely creepy.

After many years of pining after Rossetti, Siddal ended up marrying good old DGR (despite his affairs with other models). She continued to produce poetry and paintings, though none quite reaching the caliber of her husband's.

Case in point: Siddal's self-portrait...

Dante Gabriel Rossetti's "Prosperpine", for which Siddal modeled.

When she was 32, Siddal gave birth to a stillborn child. And then she herself died, from a likely-purposeful overdose of laudanum. DGR blamed himself for his wife's depression and what was almost certainly her suicide. So he sat by her coffin and painted this:

'Cause that's not weird at all...

Even in death, though, Elizabeth Siddal looked gorgeous and sensual. She had a full head of red, curly hair, which came up again and again in Pre-Raphaelite poetry and artwork for its Mary Magdalene-ness. One of DGR's poems, about a prostitute named Jenny ("Fond of a kiss and of a guniea"), was even based on Siddal and her hair. In Victorian England, hair was kind of a taboo, overtly-sexual aspect of a woman that wasn't discussed overmuch. That's the weird thing about the Pre-Raphaelites: their simultaneous love for this seedy underside of life and traditional religious values. Check out any of their poetry or artwork, and you'll see that both are glaringly present.

Anyway, on to Christina Georgina Rossetti, sister to Dante Gabriel. (Apparently their parents were fans of the three-name thing.)

She kinda looks like a Hester Prynne-type here, but check out that sensual glare!

Christina Rossetti, like her brother and sister-in-law, dabbled in various forms of artistic expression. She was far more successful when it came to poetry, though. Christina never married, but her poetry is rife with overwhelmingly romantic lines:

"For love is both and both are one in love"

"My heart is like a rainbow shell that paddles in a halcyon sea; my heart is gladder than all these because my love has come to me."

(Read "The Birthday" or "Monna Innominata" for some of the most vibrant, heartfelt love poems you'll ever encounter.)

And, ladies, as we know, romance is sensual. Sensuality is hot. Thus, CGR = hot.

I am deeply considering this hotness of which you speak.

In her famous work "Goblin Market," Christina Rossetti describes in fabulously colorful detail the corruption of one sister and her subsequent salvation by the other...in what many scholars believe is a passionate lesbian tryst. Seriously. Read the poem. It's difficult to miss.

Christina Rossetti was a dreamer, and put her faith above all else. If you look beyond that in her poetry, however (though it is impressive for its potency), it's impossible to miss her raw sensuality and desperate longing for passionate love. Her articulation of these sentiments truly are as hot as words can get.

Perfection Confection: A Series of Courtesans

So far, Danielle and I have focused on the dudes, and rightly so, as they're generally ignored in the field of 'hot people from history'. But I felt the need to introduce you to several rockin' babes, who mostly had looks going for them, but WHAT looks:

 Virginia Oldoini! Sweet! 

 Mathilde Kschessinska! Bangin'! 

Mata Hari! Like, Why Bother Trying Anymore? Huh? 

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All of these ladies used their bodacious bods, and, actually, pretty formidable brains, to get really, really rich. Like, astoundingly rich. Our first courtesan, Virginia, first married an Italian duke. When her husband was sent to the court of France, she immediately abandoned him for Napoleon III, on whom she used her womanly wiles to plead the case of Italian unification. 

"Doin' this for the boobs. Just sayin'." 

Virginia, known as 'de Castiglione', eventually got sick of Napoleon III, probably because he was hideous, and she pin balled back and forth between Italy and France during the 1860s-1970s, helping to make modern Europe through her work with Bismarck, Napoleon, and the Italian political nomenclature. Though how much of that was mental versus physical effort is uncertain. 

 Pure scandalous. SHE COULD BE NUDE UNDER THERE YOU'D NEVER KNOW MAN

Poor Virginia's story doesn't end very well. As she aged, she became obsessed with her fading youth. She covered her apartment in black, and draped all her mirrors. She began to go out only at night, and in a veil. Alas, all that got the men of Europe through this dry spell were copies of her most famous portrait: 

2 legs, 1 daguerreotype

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Our next courtesan has a connection to an earlier post of ours: Nicholas II. Mathilde KsseI'mnotgoingtokeepspellingthislastname was his first girlfriend. And this went well for her. Well enough for two palaces and a house in Nice. And lots of jewelry. Lots of it. 

I feel that I must take the time here to explain that those are whole diamonds on her necklace. And the bows, earrings, pin on the front are all diamonds and platinum. This is how the Romanovs rolled, and this was just the shit they bought their girlfriends. 

Mathilde would end up escaping the revolution that would kill her former boyfriend (and a few others- she got passed around to some uncles and cousins afterward), and she became a ballet teacher in France. She was also the primary teacher of Anna Pavlova, the first and most famous 'ethereal' ballerina, who made super-skinny hot. How'd she get famous? Mathilde was pregnant and couldn't do Swan Lake, so she had her student take her spot, figuring people would be uninterested in the flat and thin Pavlova. Tough luck, Mathilde.

But did Pavlova ever have the balls to wear her sex-jewels on stage like this? I think not.

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Last but certainly not least is the incomparable Mata Hari. Basically, I wish I was her. Except for the gruesome death. And being slutty for a living. But let's explain some stuff before we get to that. 

I will readily admit that I probably spent a little too much time looking at this picture.

Mata Hari began life in the pretty unexotic location of Holland with the pretty unexotic name of Margarethe (unexotic to Hollandishers or something I guess). An early privileged life went to all kinds of hell when her parents divorced and her headmaster started hitting on her. No Dumbeldore, he. So she decided to answer some guy's ad for a wife. 

Bad ideas all around

 Well being married to that ugly and probably boring of a dude sucked, so after moving to Indonesia to be with him, two kids, and a lot of drunken beatings (the more you read this blog, the more they pop up- pretty popular back in the day-), Margarethe moved to France, and became in turn a circus performer, an artist's model, and, of course, an 'exotic dancer'.

Well those are probably some seriously expensive pasties.

'Mata Hari' was, as you might have guessed, successful. She slept with a lot of insanely wealthy people, including millionaire industrialists, dukes, military leaders, and the crown prince of Germany. This went great until WWI. The Netherlands were neutral, but her boyfriends weren't, and she was eventual booked for espionage (of which she was probably innocent), and executed by firing squad in England. A sad day indeed. 

Like most 'exotic dancers', not so pretty in close up and facing imminent death.