The flavor of the day seems to be nicknames!
It’s becoming abundantly clear that we live in an age of nicknames, labels, and sobriquets, especially in the political arena: “Crooked Hillary,” (Hillary Clinton) “Sleepy Joe,” (Joe Biden) “Ron de Sanctimonious” (Ron DeSantis); and from across the pond, “Captain Hindsight” (former British PM, Boris Johnson).
Before that, it was the “Apostle of Democracy,” (Thomas Jefferson), “His Fraudulency,” (Rutherford B. Hayes, because of disputed election results in the 1876 election), “Teflon Ron” (Ronald Reagan) and, of course, “Slick Willie” (Bill Clinton).
It’s easier, it seems, to attach a nickname to a pol without having to openly criticize them or heap praise on them and appear too flattering.
During medieval times, nicknames and sobriquets attached to princes, kings, and rulers were actually quite common.
There were, for example, such names as "William the Silent," "Louis the Stammerer," "Charles the Bald," " Frederick the Penniless,” William Douglas, 4th Duke of Queensberry, known as the “Rake of Piccadilly,”; and that’s just for starters.
I often wondered how these nicknames got started and exactly who coined them; were they their enemies, jaded court members, chroniclers or contemporary historians?
It turns out, all the above is correct.
Some nicknames were derived from the battlefield, some in the realm of finance, others were attached to their physical appearance, such as beards, hair (or lack of hair) or the amount of body fat.
Carlos Eire, professor of history and religious studies at Yale University, said that in Europe, “the practice of employing a cognomen or nickname to identify rulers and military leaders can be traced back to Roman times.”
“Most cognomen,” Eire explained, “identify traits or features or quirky attributes of the person. Most are flattering, some are merely descriptive.”
Carol Symes, professor of history, theatre, classics & medieval studies at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, points out many of these epithets were almost essential for clarification’s sake.
“Nicknames,” Symes explained “were critical in the ancient and medieval world, since our modern practice of numbering eponymous rulers (I, II, etc.) was adopted only very late, around 1300 CE in England, so there would be no way of telling all those Henry's and Louis's apart otherwise.”
What’s so peculiar about nicknames in the Middle Ages was there was a typically a strict code of honor in medieval society. Names like “Charles the Fat”, “Charles the Bald,” and “Louis the Stammerer,” along with a host of others, appears to have conflicted with that code of honor and may be the reason, many medievalists guess, that many of these nicknames stuck.
Occasionally, what may look like a derogatory epithet has actually been misinterpreted and got lost in translation over the centuries.
Ivan IV Vasilyevich , Tsar of all Russia from 1547 until his death in 1584, nicknamed “Ivan the Terrible” wasn’t as savage as some have come to believe.
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Ivan IV Vasilyevich, grand prince of Moscow (1533–84) and the first to be proclaimed tsar of Russia (from 1547-1584) became saddled with the nickname, “Ivan the Terrible.”
John E. Morby, former Emeritus Professor of History at California State University, Hayward, writing in the University of Toronto Press Journal (1978), wrote that Ivan’s sobriquet was Gronzy, which translated in English as “The Terrible” and in German as “der Schreckliche.” “In fact,”, Morby noticed, “the epithet connoted not terror but awe, authority, and power; arising from the early successes of Ivan's reign, it remained with him "not because of, but in spite of his cruel-ties."
Additionally, Russian lexicographer Vladimir Ivanovich Dal summarized the meaning of the Russian epithet “grozny” as “courageous, magnificent, magisterial and keeping enemies in fear, but people in obedience.”
William Chester Jordan, professor of history and medieval studies at Princeton University, agrees that “Ivan Grozny,” although a pretty brutal tsar, has suffered from the translation “Terrible.” “Ivan,” Jordan notes, “was in fact held in awe, and the best modern English biography of him is titled John the Dread not Ivan the Terrible.”
Edward Roberts, senior lecturer in early medieval history at the University of Kent in the United Kingdom, informs me that Charles III’s nickname, “Charles the Simple,” has also suffered from misinterpretation through the centuries.
Charles III was king of West Francia from 898 until 922 and the king of Lotharingia from 911 until 919–923. He was a member of the Carolingian dynasty.
Thietmar, bishop of Merseburg (1009-1018), referred to the king as “Charles the Sot,” implying, “stupid.” Ralph Glaber, an 11th century Benedictine chronicler, referred to him as “Charles the Dullard;” and The Chronicle of Nantes, an eleventh-century Latin chronicle of history extending from 570 to about 1049 AD, tags Charles III with the derisive nickname Karolus Stultus or “Charles the Idiot.”
Professor Roberts explains the Latin word applied to his nickname (not by contemporaries, but by later medieval chroniclers), simplex, is loaded with multiple meanings. “It can mean 'straightforward', 'naive', 'plain-speaking', or perhaps 'innocent'. Modern historians’ debate about how this was understood and intended - but 'the Simple' has generally stuck” Roberts said.
Charles II, a 9th-century king of West Francia (843–877), king of Italy (875–877) and emperor of the Carolingian Empire (875–877), was nicknamed “Charles the Bald,” which suggest he was bald as a cue ball. Many historians, however, find it odd because medieval manuscripts indicate he was actually quite hairy. Historic records suggest the nickname became attached to him within a few decades of his death and was referred to as “the bald,” (calvus). Some historians argue the nickname “bald’’ was nothing more than an “ironic or humorous epithet.”
Other historians suggest the “bald’’ epithet should be viewed in a symbolic sense, which means he wasn’t able to produce a suitable male heir. In medieval times, hair was symbolic of health and well-being.
Charles III, the emperor of the Carolingian Empire from 881 to 888 and a member of the Carolingian dynasty, was tagged with the nickname “Charles the Fat,” despite there being no available documentation of his weight or size. The nickname didn’t take hold until the 12th century.
Louis II, king of West Francia (877-879), nicknamed “the Stammerer” (le Bègue) was burdened with a lifelong speech impediment, which damaged his leadership value in the eyes of his country.
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Louis II, on the other hand, king of West Francia (877-879) came to be known as “Louis the Stammerer.” Historical records indicate he did indeed have a stammer (balbulus) and was known to have a noticeable speech impediment, which became abundantly apparent in his speeches, hampering his ability to communicate effectively. His speech impediment generated numerous doubts about his ability to govern, including the impression that he was too easily influenced by others.
Some rulers were shrewd enough to praise contemporary chroniclers, which helped them go down in history with flattering nicknames.
In the case of “Charles the Wise” (Charles V of France, 1364-1380), his policy of supporting scholars paid off handsomely for him. “Writers such as court historian, Christine de Pizan admired him and consequently used the nickname (“le Sage”, French for “The Wise”) when she wrote his biography,” Andrew Taylor, professor of English at Ottawa University tells me.
The name of her book was titled, "Le Livre Des Fais Et Bonnes Moeurs Du Sage Roy Charles V" (The Book of Manners of the Wise King Charles V) published in 1904.
There doesn’t appear to be any misinterpretation with the nickname given to William Douglas, 4th Duke of Queensberry, a Scottish noble landowner (1724-1810) Lord of the Bedchamber to King George III between 1760 and 1789 and a friend of the Prince of Wales. William Douglas became derisively known as the “Rake of Piccadilly,” with the reputation as a notorious reprobate, excessive drinker, high stakes gambler, and owner of a well-known stud farm.
Some historic accounts have him being spotted from the balcony of his house at 138 Piccadilly, where he would “leer at and ogle” the passing women and have his staff take notes to those who caught his eye.
No one, I imagine, wants to go down in history as being saddled with the epithets, “penniless” or “empty pockets,’’ which were the unfortunate nicknames given to Frederick IV, a member of the House of Habsburg and Duke of Austria from 1402 until his death.
Historical biographical sketches of Frederick reveal he supported an anti-pope, John XXIII at the Council of Constance, which led to Sigismund, Holy Roman Emperor, banning him, leaving him with few supporters and even fewer possessions.
While he managed to keep Tyrol, he lost the Aargau, the old homeland of the Habsburgs to the Swiss.
Jonathan R. Lyon, professor of medieval history at the University of Chicago, said Frederick’s nickname in German is "mit der leeren Tasche," literally Frederick "with the empty pocket."
The early years of Frederick's reign were marked by a series of external and internal conflicts. He had to tangle with the Tyrolean nobles (who initially gave him the title "of the Empty Pockets") in 1406-1407; he additionally faced a rebellion in the Bishopric of Trent.
In fairness to Frederick IV, the “penniless’’ nickname was given to him very early in his reign. He was the Duke of Austria at the time of his death and died a wealthy man.
Professor Lyon stressed that Frederick “was ruler of Tyrol, which was an important and wealthy part of the Habsburg lands.”
So, there you have it, a brief sampling of epithets bestowed on medieval kings and princes and how they came into being.
“The Middle Ages,” Benjamin Hudson, professor of history and medieval studies at Penn State University said, “was unsparing of personal weaknesses.”
No one was more of a crafty observer of history than British statesman, writer, and former Prime Minister of Great Britain, Sir Winston Churchill.
Small wonder, then, that the "British Bulldog" once wrote: "History will be kind to me for I intend to write it."
--Bill Lucey
September 27, 2023
Bill, thanks for the scholarship.
I remember when I lived and worked in Louisville, there was a county judge (administrator) who installed an electrified fence around the downtown prison and claimed the fence would "fry 'em like bacon."
Henceforth, he was known as "the bacon-makin' judge."
Maybe still is.
Also from my old stomping grounds, there is Sen, Joe Manchin, who loves his gigantic boat, a symbol of the riches he makes from dirty coal and other anti-ecology abuses. He sometimes patronizes protestors from the deck of his yacht. I call him "The Commodore."
Thanks, GV
Posted by: George Vecsey | 09/29/2023 at 10:12 AM