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Monday 28 February 2011

The King's Nickname

The habit of endowing our kings with nicknames or descriptive epithets seems to have died out, except perhaps in the pages of the tabloid press. More’s the pity. My learned friend @Mrs Symbols has wisely pointed out that had George VI, the subject of the Oscar-winning movie The King’s Speech, lived a thousand years earlier, he would probably have earned a nickname similar to that of his distant ancestor, the French king Louis II (c. 846–879), known to his contemporaries as Louis the Stammerer.

Louis was the son of Charles the Bald (r. 843-877), the first king of West Francia, the area that encompasses modern-day France. The Carolingian monarchs and their nobles are distinguished in the chronicles of the time by a quite glorious collection of soubriquets. Forget the rather dull list of regnal numbers, Charlemagne (or Charles the Great, himself the son of Pippin the Short) was succeeded in 814 by his son Louis the Pious. He fathered three princes who divided up the empire between them: Charles the Bald, Lothair, and Louis the German. Louis the German’s son was Charles the Fat, and Charles the Bald’s successor was his son, Louis the Stammerer. They numbered among their noble followers Bernard the Calf, count of Toulouse, Wilfrid the Hairy, count of Barcelona and Bernard Hairypaws, count of Autun. Although they sound like the cast of an episode of Blackadder, these were powerful, ambitious men, dedicated to serving their king (mostly) and carving out mini-kingdoms for themselves. 
They were united in their struggle against the Vikings, enemies with equally descriptive names, like Ragnar Lodbrok (Hairy-breeches) and, er, Ivar the Boneless. It wasn’t till the 10th century that Erik Bloodaxe bagged the best and most terrifying Viking nickname of them all.
Historians differ in their opinions about these kingly nicknames. You’d think that the clue would be in the name, but one theory has it that Charles was so hirsute, that he was nicknamed ‘the Bald’ in an ironic manner. Bernard Hairypaws was apparently so-called because of his foxy nature, rather than his shaggy hands.
Louis the Stammerer from a 14th
century ms. (Wikimedia)
As for Louis the Stammerer, it seems that like George VI, he suffered from being the son of a formidable father. Charles the Bald fought throughout his adult life to hold his widespread domains together in the face of Viking attacks, revolting nobles and bitter family arguments that ripped Charlemagne’s empire apart. He expected his four sons to obey him without question. Charles himself was the youngest of Louis the Pious’s sons and knew only too well the dangers and problems inherent in allowing ambitious young princes to carve out their own domains. Louis the Stammerer and his brothers, Charles the Child and Carloman, were not outstanding in their filial devotion and during the 860s and 870s periodically stirred up trouble against their father. When his third son, Carloman, rebelled against him, Charles the Bald had him blinded and imprisoned in the abbey of Corbie. So perhaps it’s not surprising that Louis stammered. 
Louis did not have a Lionel Logue to help him, but interestingly, in the face of such a ferocious parent, at the age of 16 in 862 he secretly married his concubine Ansgarde, a woman 20 years older than him, who presumably provided some comfort. Ten years later, his father forced him to repudiate Ansgarde in favour of a more politically advantageous wife, and Louis, with his eye on his inheritance, complied. 
Louis inherited the throne in 877, but survived only two years, dying in 879. In an age when military might and a commanding personal presence were all-important, Louis was seen to be lacking and was certainly overshadowed by his powerful father. But in his brief time on the throne he continued his father’s work in maintaining an iron grip on the West Frankish realm, and eventually, it was his youngest (posthumous) son, Charles the Simple or Straightforward (879-929), who crushed the Vikings and restored order to France. 

Monday 7 February 2011

The Miami royal wedding

Thirty years ago, when our current Prince Charming’s father got married, I was living in Florida, where my dad was constructing the Metro-Dade rapid transit system. The family was used to living in funny places, having spent the previous five years in and around the Middle East, and the decade before, in Australia. We moved to Miami straight from Pakistan, and we kids were delighted to be in a country where blonde teenage girls were not regarded as exotic objects (merely the pests they are) and global fast food outlets replaced the rather more homespun stalls of the streets of Islamabad. The best place for us was the drive-thru Burger King, where we always had to repeat the order, because the lady serving ‘loved our accents’.

The only problem was that, patriots to the last, we would not be in England for the wedding of the century, but fortunately the American TV networks promised full coverage. It would just mean getting up at 5 am to view it all.

Our American neighbours were keen to watch the wedding with us, because, as Brits, we would obviously be experts. Luckily, we are. The family is ingrained with a deep sense of history, and my mother will never dine out anywhere unless there is a strict order of precedence and a Top Table for her to sit at.

Sporting new gold crowns from Burger King, my parents entertained the neighbours with stories of the Coronation (my granny won a WI * lottery and slept out in the Mall **), a military inspection by the Queen Mother in 1962 when they were in the TA*** as students, and showed them a picture of my uncle meeting the Queen just four years earlier. In Miami in 1981, that just about made us royalty.

The only question we couldn’t answer satisfactorily was why Diana was going through with it. The neighbours were entranced by the beautiful Lady Diana Spencer, and despite our assurances that she would be a marvellous queen because she came from the nobility and would know what’s what, and the whispered asides that surely untold wealth must be an important factor in their relationship, they still could not understand it. Rather indignantly, we asked what was wrong with Prince Charles, a perfectly decent chap, as the parents confidently said.

Bluntly, the neighbours said it was his ears and they wondered aloud why Diana was not opting for Prince Andrew instead.

They really didn’t get it, so we told it to them straight. Prince Andrew may have had neater ears and a cheesier smile, but as number one son, Charles would get the throne. The neighbours shrugged and remarked that perhaps the ears would help the crown stay on securely.

Thirty years on, Prince Andrew’s charms have faded, and although Charles hasn’t yet tested the crown-bearing utility of his ears, he’s still in pole position for the throne.


Notes for foreigners

* The WI is the Womens’ Institute, a doughty voluntary organisation involving jam and Jerusalem.

** Pronounced ‘Mal’ to rhyme with ‘Hal’, the Mall in London is the road from Buckingham Palace to Admiralty Arch and Trafalgar Square. There are no shops on it.

*** TA – Territorial Army, Britain’s part-time volunteer soldiers.