The Good, the Bad, and the Unready: The Remarkable Truth Behind History's Strangest Nicknames

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The Good, the Bad, and the Unready: The Remarkable Truth Behind History's Strangest Nicknames Page 9

by Robert Easton


  Roundly thrashed by Edward the BLACK PRINCE at the battle of Poitiers, John was imprisoned in England, where he remained for some time because he was unable to raise his ransom money. Finally hostages were accepted in his place but when one of them (John’s own son Louis) escaped, John did what he must have considered the chivalrous thing, and returned to England and voluntary captivity. Behind bars once more, he quickly fell ill of an ‘unknown malady’ and died.

  Magnus the Good

  Magnus I, king of Norway and Denmark, 1024–47

  Back in eleventh-century Scandinavia, goodness meant military courage, and Magnus’s goodness was amply demonstrated by his fearless exploits when fighting the Wends in southern Jutland. According to legend, the night before a major battle in which Magnus’s forces were considerably outnumbered, the king dreamt he saw his father, ‘Olaf the Saint’, who assured him of victory. Fortified by his vision, the next morning Magnus doffed his mail shirt and strode into battle wearing nothing above the waist except a red silk shirt. According to Adam of Bremen, 15,000 Wendish corpses littered the battlefield that day. Soon thereafter Magnus died of disease at the tender age of twenty-three, leaving the sort of reputation that poets and saga writers loved to eulogize.

  Philip the Good

  Philip III, duke of Burgundy, 1396–1467

  Philip enjoyed the good life. His official court chronicler, Georges Chastellain, wrote how he was skilful on horseback, excellent at tennis, and that he ‘loved to hunt… and linger over meals’. He was also something of a ladies’ man, with records showing that he had some twenty mistresses in all, maintaining a number at the same time in different places.

  Later in life, when not hearing Mass or watching dancers cavort, Philip loved to amuse himself in a sort of glorified portable shed, a mobile wooden hut in which he would while away the hours simply pottering about, making clogs, soldering broken knives, repairing broken spectacles, and so on. His son ‘Charles the Bold’ mocked his father for his hobby, and destroyed the whole outfit after his death. The shed may be gone, but Philip’s reputation as a good and popular duke remains intact.

  Good Duke Humphrey

  Humphrey, duke of Gloucester, 1391–1447

  Humphrey was famously pious, an excellent soldier (he received a wound at Agincourt in the service of his hero and brother Henry the ENGLISH ALEXANDER –see ENGLISH EPITHETS) and a scholar of some merit, with his collection of classical tomes forming the core of the Bodleian Library in Oxford. Despite his notorious promiscuity and his track record as a truly lousy administrator, he was hugely popular among all classes and known throughout the land as ‘Good Duke Humphrey’.

  He did have his enemies, however, and none more so than Henry Beaufort, the chief minister of the realm. Beaufort found the hot-headed Humphrey contemptible and was constantly on the lookout for a way to stop him meddling in national affairs. His chance came when it was discovered that Humphrey’s wife, Eleanor, dabbled in witchcraft. Eleanor, it was claimed, regularly checked her horoscope and had once made a wax figure of Henry the MARTYR and melted it in a fire. For this she was imprisoned for life and Humphrey was discredited and eventually arrested for treason himself. While in jail he fell ill and died.

  The phrase ‘to dine with the Good Duke Humphrey’, meaning ‘to go without dinner’, has its roots in a case of mistaken identity. Londoners in trouble with the law would often congregate (for discussion rather than for worship) in St Paul’s Cathedral, where they were safe from arrest. There they would gather near a monument popularly thought to be dedicated to Humphrey. In fact the good duke was buried at St Albans and the tomb was that of one Sir John Beauchamp. Nevertheless, people who could not afford a meal and instead whiled away the time in the cathedral were said to be dining with the duke.

  Good King René

  René I, duke of Anjou and king of Sicily, 1409–80

  Once upon a time there lived a king called René. His subjects loved him and called him ‘Good King Rene’, not only because he was kind and generous but also because he was the stuff of legend: a romantic dreamer in love with the chivalric ideal; a courageous soldier who wrote love poems and adventure stories; and a man who (in a reverse of fairy-tale convention) was rescued from prison in a high tower by a gallant and brave woman.

  After fighting alongside Joan of Arc, ‘the Maid of Orléans’, in the army of his brother-in-law ‘Charles the Victorious’, René fought for the right to inherit the duchy of Lorraine, but lost, ending up in Philip the GOOD’S fortress at Dijon. Once imprisoned in the high tower of the chateau, René developed an interest in art, painting miniatures on glass (possibly under the tutelage of the Dutch master Jan van Eyck) and decorating one of the rooms in the castle. But while René experimented with interior design, his young wife Isabel feverishly (and eventually successfully) campaigned for his release.

  Once free, René spent four fruitless years battling against ‘Alfonso the Magnanimous’ for the kingdom of Naples. Eventually he cut his losses, headed back to France and established a brilliant court at Angers, where he indulged his love of Arthurian chivalry and courtly splendour; feasts, mystery plays and minstrelsy were crowned by the heroics of the tournament, an event so adored by Rene that he wrote a handbook on the subject, the magnificently illustrated Manual for the Perfect Organization of Tourneys. When his beloved Isabel died, Rene was inconsolable, though only for a year, after which he became smitten with the very plain and very pious Jeanne of Laval, the daughter of a Breton nobleman, for whom he wrote a 10,000-verse pastoral love poem. The once-storybook prince spent his sunset years as a living legend, one of the last representatives of medieval chivalry and culture, concentrating on his poetry and his art. Fittingly for such a man of romance, ‘Rene d’Anjou’ is the name of a rather lovely pink rose.

  Good Queen Bess

  Elizabeth I, queen of England, 1533–1603

  Even those who disliked Elizabeth had to admit that she possessed a special aura. The slim, pale monarch inherited the magnetism of her father, BLUFF KING HAL, and the sheer presence of her mother, Anne the GREAT WHORE, and court and public alike were dazzled by their fascinating and attractive queen. She did have some detractors – a dissident named Edward Deering once famously used a sermon to denounce her as An Untamed Heifer’ –but in the main Elizabeth was immensely popular. Soon after her coronation in 1559 her subjects dubbed their new monarch ‘Gloriana’ and ‘Good Queen Bess’.

  Elizabeth loved pearls above all precious stones and wore them in necklaces, bracelets and earrings, as well as on her clothing and in her hair. It was an appropriate gem for two reasons. First, Elizabeth was commonly known as ‘the Queen of the Sea’ since, like her father, she had a passion for all things maritime and, once the Spanish Armada had been destroyed, effectively ruled the waves. Second, pearls were a symbol of virginity, and as well as playing the virginal excellently (she was an accomplished performer of pieces by composers such as Byrd and Tallis) Elizabeth played her role as ‘the Virgin Queen’ very finely too. Some questioned her right to this title, facetiously conferring upon her the nickname ‘the World’s Wonder’. On the other hand her court favourite Walter Raleigh went so far as to name a territory in North America ‘Virginia’ in her honour.

  As the years rolled on, the good Elizabeth had to work hard to maintain her appearance. She used a solution containing egg white, borax and poppy seed to keep her skin white, and would rub urine on to her face to prevent wrinkles. There was little she could do about her teeth, however: owing to her love for sugar, they turned rotten and black.

  James the Good Regent

  James Stewart, first earl of Moray, c.1531–70

  The historian P. Hume Brown writes that soon after James’s death ‘men spoke of Moray with affection and reverence as “the Good Regent”.’ Later generations, it seems, have cooled somewhat in their appreciation of this son of James the ILL-BELOVED, principally because of his conduct towards his half-sister Mary the MERMAID.

  In 1565 Ja
mes found himself out of favour and indeed out of Scotland for his vehement opposition to Mary’s marriage to the swaggering Lord Darnley. Mary soon forgave him, however, and welcomed him back into her court, apparently unaware of the part he had played in the murder of David Rizzio, one of her chief counsellors.

  It was when Mary abdicated in 1567, however, and James became regent, that his true allegiances came to the fore. To the dismay of Mary, James not only forced her to flee south of the border after the defeat of her Catholic forces at the battle of Langside but also did everything in his power to perpetuate her incarceration there, giving his full support to Mary and Darnley’s son, the young Protestant James the WISEST FOOL IN CHRISTENDOM.

  With Mary incapacitated, James instigated a series of religious reforms that ensured the success of the Reformation in Scotland. To some, therefore, he was a hero. To others he was a traitor, and on a cold January morning in 1570 James was murdered in what is the first recorded assassination with a firearm.

  The Good Sir James see James the BLACK DOUGLAS

  Duncan the Gracious

  Duncan I, king of Scotland, c.1001–40

  History, perhaps sarcastically, has given King Duncan I the epithet ‘the Gracious’, and in his play Macbeth William Shakespeare has two characters (a nobleman called Lennox and Macbeth himself) acknowledge him as such. Shakespeare portrays Duncan as a grey-haired elderly king, but here the bard is playing fast and loose with the historical record, for in truth Duncan was in his early thirties when he came to the throne and, far from being mild-mannered, was regarded as impetuous and arrogant. Part of his unpopularity may have stemmed from his marriage to a cousin of Siward, the earl of Northumberland, and his attempt to introduce English ways into the Scottish court.

  As a military man he was useless. He was defeated in battle by his cousin Thorfinn, the earl of Orkney, suffered heavy losses in a fruitless siege of Durham, and finally was hacked down by Macbeth at the battle of Pitgaveny. Of the very few who mourned his passing was his son Malcolm BIGHEAD, who avenged his death by killing Macbeth in 1057.

  Victoria the Grandmother of Europe see Victoria the WIDOW OF WINDSOR

  Akbar the Great

  Akbar, emperor of India, 1542–1605

  In 1556, when only thirteen, Akbar ascended the Mughal throne when his father, Humayun, descended a flight of stairs faster than he would have wished, and died. Akbar defeated three challengers to his office and conquered or annexed (among others) Rajasthan, Gujarat, Bengal and Kashmir, so that the Mughal Empire under him covered the entire Hindustan plain, from the Indus in the west, to the Ganges in the east, and the Himalayas in the north.

  In order to govern this vastly increased territory successfully, Akbar developed a bureaucracy second to none. Military governors were put in charge of autonomous imperial provinces, and tax collection was ruthlessly efficient. Alert, meanwhile, to the fact that no Muslim Empire in India would survive without the support of the majority Hindus, he went out of his way to win their favour. This he achieved, in part, by encouraging inter-faith discourse, employing a large number of Hindus in his civil service and, out of some 5,000 wives, electing a Hindu woman to become the mother of his successor. Some historians have acclaimed him as ‘the Guardian of Mankind’ owing to his promotion of equal justice for all, and for the care he showed for his subjects. An example of his generosity to his people was his compilation of a library of some 24,000 books, even though he himself was illiterate.

  Akbar surely ranks alongside his contemporary Suleiman the MAGNIFICENT for the good he achieved. His creation of a new religion, however, in which he was God, and a new calendar which began on the date of his accession, suggest that his estimation of his own self-worth may have been somewhat exaggerated.

  Albert the Great

  Albertus Magnus, German nobleman, c.1200-1280

  Albertus, a Dominican bishop and philosopher, is perhaps best known as the teacher of St Thomas Aquinas. His writings on philosophy and theology may have been cutting edge, but it was in his writing on the natural sciences that he exercised his greatest influence and earned himself the nickname ‘the Great’. He was a modest man, and his soubriquet, given to him while he was still very much alive, must have been something of an embarrassment.

  His Book of Marvels makes interesting reading. In its pages one can find the necessary ingredients for various potions. If you want to make someone believe that their bed is full of lice, for instance, you will need a quantity of winter cherry and some hawk feathers; to make women dance for joy, the blood of a gannet, a hare and a turtle dove are crucial; and if your intention is to make a man fart ceaselessly, an essential ingredient is snail’s blood.

  Albert may have been great in mind, but was not so in stature. In some circles he was also known as ‘le Petit Albert’ because he was so short, and once, when he was paying his respects to the pope, the pontiff thought he was still kneeling when in fact he was standing up.

  Alexander the Great

  Alexander III, king of Macedonia, 356–323 BC

  When he was only twelve Alexander tamed a horse called Bucephalus, an animal so wild that no other person could approach let alone ride it. For the remainder of his short life, stories of his mastery over the rebellious and recalcitrant abound.

  Educated by Aristotle, Alexander became king of Macedonia aged twenty. One of his first acts was to suppress a revolution in the city of Thebes whose people thought, erroneously, that he was dead. Alexander sacked the city, selling 30,000 inhabitants into slavery and sparing only the temples and the house of the poet Pindar. Then, in 334, his conquest of Persia began in earnest.

  Alexander crossed the Hellespont and within a year had taken most of Asia Minor. From there he moved to the mountain town of Gordium where, according to legend, he ‘untied’ the intricate Gordian knot by slicing through it with his sword. Over the next couple of years he subdued Syria, routing the forces of the Persian king Darius III along the way, and founded the city of Alexandria in Egypt. His travels then took him back through Syria across much of Mesopotamia and into Babylon, which he made his capital.

  Thereafter nations and their peoples capitulated to him without much of a fight. Even cities like Susa and Persepolis, hoarding vast amounts of silver and gold, surrendered relatively quickly. Soon Alexander was marching on to the Caspian Sea, and then crossing eastwards into modern-day Afghanistan and Pakistan. At this point his men declared they would travel no further, and Alexander was forced to return to Susa. In 323, aged only thirty-three, he caught a fever and died.

  In his brief lifetime Alexander rampaged through the Persian Empire and opened it up to the West. Some, however, have seen his conquests, for which he earned the title ‘Macedonia’s Madman’, as well as ‘the Great’, as little more than swashbuckling acts of robbery, since he merely ransacked great cities and failed to replace them with anything of value.

  It appears that Alexander considered his own achievements not only as outstanding but also as surpassing those of any other mortal. He proclaimed himself a god, and began wearing two rams’ horns attached to a band around his head, so that they appeared to be growing out of his blond hair just above his ears. Some Greek and African states did indeed confer divine status upon him, calling him ‘Zeus-Ammon’ or ‘the Two-Horned’. Alexander certainly had one mortal failing, however, namely an unhealthy love of wine, and while he was no alcoholic, as some have portrayed him, he did occasionally drink himself into a stupor.

  Without doubt, Alexander was one of the greatest generals of all time. Countless histories record how he brought Greek ideas, customs and laws to the Middle East and Asia. Fans of rock music, meanwhile, have the additional pleasure of listening to ‘Alexander the Great’ by the heavy metal band Iron Maiden, which outlines his greatest achievements.

  Alfred the Great

  Alfred, king of Wessex, 849–99

  Our perception of the greatness of Alfred may be coloured by the story of his accidental burning of a peasant wo
man’s cakes. The briefest of objective analyses, however, shows that, culinary abilities aside, Alfred was a truly notable monarch. In fact, he is the only English king to have been distinguished with the nickname ‘the Great’, and his reign was one of the most decisive in his nation’s history.

  He was the most effective opponent of the Vikings since Charles the GREAT, protecting his kingdom with a network of forts, a newly established navy and a standing army. He augmented these military developments with a revival of interest in religion and learning, the king himself contributing a substantial body of prose literature. Such achievements become all the more impressive when one learns of Alfred’s chronic physical infirmity, diagnosed by some scholars as Crohn’s disease, an intermittent condition characterized by abdominal pains, fever and wasting. In Wantage, the town of his birth, a life-size statue bears a plaque summing up his more public successes:

  Alfred found learning dead, and he restored it;

  Education neglected, and he revived it;

  The laws powerless, and he gave them force;

  The Church debased, and he raised it;

  The land ravaged by a fearful enemy, from which he delivered it.

  Alfred’s name will live as long as mankind shall respect the past.

  Anthony the Great see Anthony the GREAT BASTARD

  Casimir the Great

  Casimir III, king of Poland, 1310–70

  In 1869 an overzealous workman digging in the crypt of Cracow Cathedral accidentally sliced open the tomb of Poland’s medieval king Casimir III. The attendance of tens of thousands of well-wishers at his re-interment suggests that Casimir was held in the highest esteem by the Polish people. Such adulation appears well placed: while being ruled by ‘Kasimierz Wielki’, or ‘Casimir the Great’, medieval Poland reached the pinnacle of her power and prosperity.

  Casimir’s achievements beyond his nation’s borders were impressive: he significantly advanced its frontiers in the east and cleverly sued for peace with Bohemia. But it was his domestic dealings that won him the most acclaim. Recalling the ideal of Louis the SAINT, he ruled his country under the motto of ‘One king, one law, one currency’ and, through his administrative and fiscal reforms and encouragement of the arts, he cemented newly achieved Polish unity and raised his country to a position equal to other states of Europe.

 

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