In his day, King Vaclav was quite the charmer.
Then he started draping himself in velvet, swilling large quantities of Becherovka, and mincing around, reading aloud from Ulysses in (what he thought was) a French accent.
Later, he took up needlepoint and amateur proctology — a dangerous combination after several bottles of liqueur (and two chapters of Joyce).
Not to mention all that mincing.