Black Panther's Wakanda: a modern medievalist state

I see almost every Marvel movie in theaters within a week of its release out of habit, so it's no surprise that I caught Black Panther as well. But even all the hype about this particular release (which I was frankly a bit skeptical of, anyway) couldn't prepare me for the utter spectacle of the imagination that I had witnessed across the IMAX screen. There is, of course, so much to say about this movie as a story, as an expression of black culture, as and so on... but here, I'd prefer to write about an angle few others would be comfortable talking about. Today, in this relatively spoiler-free piece, I'll tell you what Black Panther teaches us about kingship.

The King is Dead--Long Live the King

Black Panther picks up where Captain America: Civil War left off. King T'Chaka is dead following a terrorist attack, and his son T'Challa automatically succeeds him as King of Wakanda, a fictional nation-state in sub-Saharan Africa which hides itself from the rest of the world for one reason. Wakanda is blessed by a mountain of vibranium, a near-indestructible metal with a host of other fantastical properties which make it the most prized resource in the Marvel universe. (Most notably, it's the stuff Captain America's shield is made of.) 

The armor of the King's Champion at Windsor Castle

Well... almost automatically! T'Challa is indeed his father's heir, but the Wakandans don't respect blood as the sole criterion for kingship. By tradition, on the day of the new king's coronation, the leaders of the other four tribes are asked if they wish to challenge the new king's right to rule. Most decline out of respect, but should a challenger appear, the new king is obliged to drink a serum that strips away his superhuman strength to allow him to fight in ritual combat as an ordinary man.

Those of you familiar with medieval English history might find this somewhat reminiscent of the tradition of the King's Champion. For centuries from the Norman Conquest onward, the festivities of each coronation ended with the King's Champion riding into Westminster Hall in full armor, throwing down his gauntlet and challenging anyone who would question the new king's right to a duel. Such a ritual was only natural in an age when a king's right to rule was de facto established by conquest or strength of arms, but as the Middle Ages gave way to the modern world, monarchies increasingly gave up on the idea of an interregnum (period of transition between the old king's death and the new king's coronation) in favor of automatic succession after the old king's death. The phrase "the king is dead, long live the king" is the summation of a doctrine which upholds the stability of birthright above all. The tradition of the King's Champion throwing down his gauntlet was last seen at the coronation banquet of King George IV in 1821. His successor, William IV, eliminated the coronation banquet in order to cut costs, and by the time of Victoria's coronation in 1838, the tradition was permanently discontinued.

Every king a warrior

By no means does ascending the throne mean T'Challa is now too important to continue fighting on the front lines. On the contrary, kingship consummates his identity as a warrior. By taking on the mantle of the Black Panther, T'Challa assumes the burden of a lifetime of personal combat. Wakandans are still very much medievalists in this regard: they will only respect and follow a king who shows martial strength and the bravery to lead his armies in battle. They're not scandalized by the idea of their monarch sneaking out at night in costume to play as superhero: they expect it!

The exercise of kingship throughout the Middle Ages was intensely personal. Without the bureaucracies and communications networks of later periods, the best way for a king to keep his kingdom was by constantly reminding his subjects of his existence. As such, medieval kings spent more time on the road than in their capital cities, making circuits around the country, holding court in different castles. This had the advantage of ensuring that ordinary people, who might never travel more than a few miles away from home their entire lives, might have had a chance to see the king in person. It also meant the king had a real knowledge of the lands in his domain.

But above all, the medieval king had to be a warrior. A crown prince still trained in arms and was dubbed a knight like his vassals. He didn't necessarily fight on the front lines, but he at least rode with the army on major campaigns to show his willingness to fight and die alongside his men. Richard III, sometimes reckoned the last medieval King of England, was fittingly also the last English king to die in battle, at Bosworth Field in 1485. King Henri II of France famously died from a wound suffered in a jousting accident in 1559. This was simply the cost of doing business. But a king who proved his prowess on the field could more than make up for his absence at home. King Edward I ("Longshanks" of Braveheart fame) was so renowned as a crusader that, when his father died, he was able to continue fighting in the Holy Land for a whole two years before coming back home to be crowned, with full assurance that England would wait patiently for him without any insurrections or rival princes making a bid for the throne.

Prince Harry, in keeping with a millennium of family military tradition, served two tours in Afghanistan.

Times have changed, but a certain remnant of this legacy lives today. Almost to a man, male members of the British Royal Family still make a point to serve as military officers for at least a few years. And many Americans, myself included, find it harder to take a presidential candidate seriously if he never served in the armed forces in any way.

Technology and tradition

One of the greatest follies of modern man is the notion that advancements in science and observation somehow discredit matters of the spirit--like atheists in 1957 who proudly proclaimed that Sputnik couldn't see God out in space. I always found it fascinating, though, that sci-fi authors so often create worlds where a mostly irreligious humanity, governed by the most utterly boring governments imaginable, travels through space alongside other sentient species who unabashedly worship gods and conquer in the name of empires.

The modern medievalist views technology as a tool of neutral moral value. They might give the ignorant more opportunity for idleness or destruction, it's true, but a modern medievalist doesn't eschew the printing press because it allowed more people to read and misinterpret the Bible, or refuse to use the Internet merely because his neighbor does nothing with it beyond sending his friends funny pictures of cats. 

An ideal "modern medievalist" state would see no contradiction between great material prosperity or scientific achievement enjoyed by a people who also adhere strongly to religious and cultural traditions. This is essentially what Wakanda represents: an Afro-futurist nation with medicine that can cure almost any physical condition and weaponry that can conquer the rest of the world... none of which blinds its people to the importance of maintaining its monarchy and calling on their ancestors for guidance.

Isolationism or imperialism?

This final heading isn't so much an assertion as an open question: is it more in keeping with a "medievalist" state to shun all foreign entanglements, embrace a hunger for expansion and colonization, or play at world's policeman?

The Wakanda which T'Challa inherits from his father has entered the 21st century posing as an obscure, third world country deep in the heart of Africa with nothing to offer the rest of the world. Indeed, without spoiling too much, much of the conflict in the film revolves around a growing sense of shame by Wakandans over having ignored the plight of their neighbors as they were carted off to slavery or divided by imperialist powers over the centuries... leaving them ripe for a change of regime.

My own observations of history suggest that a country which cuts itself off from all contact with the otuside world is certainly more likely to maintain its cultural and religious traditions--the textbook case being Japan, whose "middle ages" under the rule of the samurai lasted effectively until the Meiji era (the later 19th century). The price for cultural integrity was steep: the shogun deemed it necessary to crush Christian minorities with overwhelming brutality (as detailed in the movie Silence), and military technology stagnated until Commodore Perry's gunboats forced the country to open itself to trade.

Commodore Perry's ships arrive in Japan.

A somewhat more positive example might be Liechtenstein. A surviving relic of the Holy Roman Empire, Liechtenstein rests safely in the Alps with no need for a military, but it's not exactly an isolationist state. It entices foreign businesses to invest and set up shop there with low taxes to the point that it has more registered companies than citizens. Liechtenstein has a remarkably high rate of religious participation for a modern European state, and the Prince invites the entire population to his castle once a year to celebrate their national day with free beer.



I hope you enjoyed this excursion to the Marvel universe. Next time, I might write about a new video game set in medieval Bohmedia, circa 1403 which I've been playing, called Kingdom Come: Deliverance... which might also fittingly be called "Medieval Peasant Simulator". Until then!

The laudes regiae: Christ conquers

Today happens to be the feast of Christ the King according to the 1962 calendar. My good friend asked me to direct our schola in San Antonio today in his place since he was set to serve Mass as master of ceremonies, so I took advantage of the opportunity to have us sing one of my all-time favorite chants in the Church's vast treasury: Christus vincit. Also called the laudes regiae throughout history, Christus vincit is an acclamation which asserts Christ as the king of kings. It pulls no punches, calling out: Christus vincit, Christus regnat, Christus imperat. "Christ conquers, Christ reigns, Christ commands." I'm not very politically minded these days, but the placement of this feast in the 1962 calendar at the last Sunday of October has the convenient advantage of being celebrated right before the American political cycle on election years. It reminds us that no matter who becomes president, this entire world is ultimately under a monarchy, whether we wish to acknowledge the fact or not.

Christus vincit is an acclamation of a style that reaches back to ancient Rome. Praises of victory and honor were shouted or chanted to Roman generals, consuls, or emperors who entered the Eternal City in triumph after a great battle. Charlemagne, a barbarian king who fashioned himself a ruler in the tradition of the old Empire, adopted Roman traditions such as the acclamations for his own use. It's said that at his coronation as Emperor of the Romans in A.D. 800, he adopted Christus vincit, Christus regnat, Christus imperat for his own personal motto. Those words formed a chant which was used in the coronations of the Holy Roman Emperors for centuries hence. 

 This version by the early music group Sequentia is based on a text from Charlemagne's time. It's from an album appropriately named 'Chant Wars'.

It's no surprise that the laudes regiae were most popular in Charlemagne's native France. Not only was it sung during the holy anointings of the French kings, it was also featured every year at the Cathedral of Notre-Dame-de-Paris. On Easter Sunday, the King himself would process into the cathedral (considered the King's own parish), with the royal praises made both for him and the risen Christ. The French tradition then made its way to England courtesy of the Norman Conquest. Thus, the laudes regiae would also be heard in the coronations of the Kings of England from the time of the Conquest to the Reformation. The oldest manuscript we have of laudes regiae in England is for the coronation of William the Conqueror's wife, Matilda, as queen in 1068. For the curious, you can view the full text here. 

This version above was recorded by the Westminster Abbey Choir for the feast of Saint Edward the Confessor. It's based on a Sarum melody of the laudes.

Christus vincit continued to appear in the coronations of the Popes well after most of the crowns of Europe had fallen. Even after the the post-Vatican II Popes gave up the practice of coronation, though, Christus vincit has been heard in this context as recently as the inauguration Mass of Pope Benedict XVI in 2005 (below).

Our schola sang an edition published by the CMAA (this one), which I believe is a monastic version. It's the very same one used in this following video.

Christus vincit, Christus regnat, Christus imperat.	Christ conquers, Christ reigns, Christ commands.
I. For the Church
Exaudi, Christe. Ecclesiae sanctae Dei, supra regnorum fines nectenti animas: salus perpetua! Redemptor mundi. Tu illam adjuva. Sancta Maria. Tu illam adjuva. Sancte Joseph. Tu illam adjuva. Sancte Michael. Tu illam adjuva. Christus vincit, Christus regnat, Christus imperat.	Give ear, O Christ. To the holy Church of God, uniting the faithful beyond the limits of kingdoms: may she have everlasting weal! Redeemer of the world. Grant her assistance. Holy Mary. Grant her assistance. Holy Joseph. Grant her assistance. Holy Michael. Grant her assistance. Christ conquers, Christ reigns, Christ commands.
II. For the Pope
Exaudi, Christe. [Benedicto] Summo Pontifici, in unum populos doctrina congreganti, caritate: Pastori gratia, gregi obsequentia. Salvator mundi. Tu illum adjuva. Sancta Maria. Tu illum adjuva. Sancte, Petre. Tu illum adjuva. Sancte Paule. Tu illum adjuva. Sancte Benedicte. Tu illum adjuva. Christus vincit, Christus regnat, Christus imperat.	Give ear, O Christ. To the Supreme Pontiff [Benedict], who gathereth into one all peoples through doctrine, in charity: let there be dignity for our Shepherd, and obedience for his flock. O Savior of the world. Grant him assistance. Holy Mary. Grant him assistance. Holy Peter. Grant him assistance. Holy Paul. Grant him assistance. Holy Benedict. Grant him assistance. Christ conquers, Christ reigns, Christ commands.
III. For the local Bishop
Exaudi, Christe. [Gustavo] (archi-)episcopo et omni clero sibi commisso pax et virtus, plurima merces. Sancte [Antoni]. Tu illum adjuva. Sancte [Pie Decime]. Tu illum adjuva. Christus vincit, christus regnat, Christus imperat. Rex regum. Rex noster. Spes nostra. Gloria nostra.	Give ear, O Christ. To [Gustavo] our (Arch)bishop and to every cleric committed to him: let there be peace and strength, and a great bounty of good. Holy [Anthony]. Grant him assistance. (diocesan patron) Holy [Pius X]. Grant him assistance. (parish patron) Christ conquers, Christ reigns, Christ commands. King of kings. Our King. Our Hope. Our Glory.
IV. For rulers and citizens
Exaudi, Christe. Magistratibus et omnibus concivibus nobiscum orantibus: cordis vera quies, votorum effectus. Auxilium christianorum. Tu illos adjuva. Sancte Michael. Tu illos adjuva. Sancte Benedicte. Tu illos adjuva. Sancte [N.]. Tu illos adjuva. Christus vincit, Christus regnat, Christus imperat. Ipsi soli imperium, laus et jubilatio, per infinita saecula saeculorum. Amen. Tempora bona habeant! Tempora bona habeant redempti sanguine Christi! Feliciter! Feliciter! Feliciter! Pax Christi veniat! Regnum Christi veniat! Deo gratias. Amen.	Give ear, O Christ. To the magistrates and all fellow citizens praying with us: let the effect of their devotions be true rest for the heart. O Help of Christians. Grant them assistance. Holy Michael. Grant them assistance. Holy Benedict. Grant them assistance. Holy [N.]. Grant them assistance. (national, local patrons) Christ conquers, Christ reigns, Christ commands. Let all power, praise, and jubilation be to Him alone, through endless ages to ages. Amen. May they have prosperous times! May they have prosperous times by the redemptive blood of Christ! Joyously! Joyously! Joyously! Let the Peace of Christ come! Let the reign of Christ come! Thanks be to God. Amen.

 

My final thought: why the discrepancy between the dates for the feast of Christ the King in the old and new calendars? I did some cursory reading to find out why. The feast was originally established in 1925 by Pope Pius XI in the encyclical Quas Primas. It was a response to the growing trends of communism, fascism, nationalism, and all the other -isms that would blow up into World War II. The date was to be on the last Sunday of October for two reasons: first, on a Sunday to ensure maximum attendance by the laity, and second, at the end of October so it would complement All Saints and All Souls Day, making a sort of triduum of holy days. Pope Paul VI's revision of the Roman calendar in 1969 then moved Christ the King to the last Sunday of the liturgical year before Advent, so that the feast would have a more eschatological significance. The feast was retitled "Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe", and its place at the end of the year would recall the Last Judgment.

Despite all Paul VI's liturgical blunders, I can't profess that one placement is inherently better than the other. They both make sense, for different reasons.

Saint Edward the Confessor: the death of a tradition

Two days and 849 years ago, the incorrupt body of Edward, last of the Anglo-Saxon kings of England [Update: penultimate if you count the brief reign of Harold Godwinson], was translated from its original tomb and re-interred at a special shrine in Westminster Abbey. The event was presided over by Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury, in the presence of King Henry II. The occasion: earlier that year, Edward had been canonized in Rome as a saint, an act which (whether by coincidence or otherwise) strengthened Henry II's legitimacy to the throne by associating him with the Saxon monarchs, as well as greatly contributing to the Abbey's wealth and prestige.

On October 13, 1163, Edward was also officially granted the epithet of "the Confessor". He was given this title to distinguish him from his predecessor, King Edward the Martyr, while still recognizing his service and suffering on behalf of Christendom. He gave generously to the poor people of the realm and kept England out of war the entire length of his reign: no mean feat for the Middle Ages. Edward the Confessor's feast day also made me realize that we've lost the art of referring to our heads of state and other important figures by epithet. True, the first Norman king is known best as William "the Conqueror", or "the Bastard". A few English monarchs have since gained nicknames like "Edward Longshanks", "Bloody Mary", and "Good Queen Bess" for the sisters Mary I and Elizabeth I (though a second look at history might require a reversal of those monikers). But otherwise, the Norman Conquest imposed the ordinal system: an impersonal number beside a name.

The Saxon kings, to the contrary, all earned epithets based on their deeds, for good or ill. The Confessor's father was Aethelred the Unready, so-called for his stubborn refusal to heed his ministers' advice. Before him, there were Edward the Martyr, Edgar the Peaceful, Eadwig All-Fair, Eadred the Excellent, Edmund the Deed-doer, and Aethelstan the Glorious.

The shrine of Saint Edward the Confessor at Westminster Abbey, restored by Mary I during her brief reign

So today, I've decided to establish an epithet system for dead Presidents of the United States. Yes, I've come up with possibilities for all 38 of them; not counting Reagan, because his predecessor Carter isn't dead yet. [Update: since my first posting of this article, I was asked by several friends to finish the list, so I've come up with some epithets for the rest of them, too.]

1. George the Devourer. Washington is an obvious candidate for "the Great", "the Conqueror", "the Magnificent", but he already has a nickname given by history. Our first President was bestowed the title of Conotocaurious, or "Devourer of Villages", by the Iroquois Confederacy during the American Revolution. A Seneca religious figure by the name of Handsome Lake went so far as to declare that Washington was the only white man allowed to enter the Indians' heaven.

2. John the Fat. When Adams was Vice President under the Washington Administration, he was dubbed "His Rotundity" by his opponents, who mocked him for proposing that the President be addressed as "His Majesty" or even "His High Mightiness". Also known for his stubbornness, Adams could be called "the Unready" or "Redeless".

3. Thomas the Apostate, or perhaps Doubting Thomas, for his work on the Jefferson Bible, which attempts to excise the gospels of all miracles and "superstition". Also Thomas the Tinkerer for inventing the swivel chair and a cipher wheel, among many other devices.

4. James the Lawgiver. Madison is best-known for drafting the Constitution. Or, James the Short for being the shortest of all Presidents at 5 feet 4 inches.

5. James the Beloved; not for any of Monroe's actual deeds, but because he was lucky enough to be elected during the Era of Good Feelings. His rivals' party, the Federalists, completely disintegrated, making Monroe perhaps the last president to govern without a substantial opposition.

6. John the Abolitionist. Quincy Adams was as stubborn as his father and constantly brought up the subject of slavery on the floor of Congress, despite there being a gag rule against the topic. He's also famous for having defended the Africans of the Amistad case in the Supreme Court, notably after having served as President.

7. Andrew the Widowmaker. Known as Old Hickory in his own time for being so tough, Jackson fought as many as a dozen, or even more, duels in his life, killing at least one man. After surviving an attempt on his life, he beat the would-be assassin nearly to death with his cane. Then there's the whole Trail of Tears affair.

8. Martin the Wrymouth. Van Buren was remarkably courteous to his political opponents. He also engineered much of the New York political machine via power groups such as the Albany Regency and Tammany Hall. Still, considering he was a one-term president, it didn't seem to work out for him there. Martin Van Ruin, as his enemies called him, has the pleasantly contradictory distinction of being both the first President to have been born natively in the US (after the Declaration of Independence), yet also the only President whose native language was not English. His first tongue was Dutch.

9. William the Brief. W.H. Harrison had the shortest term of office of any President. He died of pneumonia 30 days after taking his oath. In attempting to treat him, Harrison's doctors applied leeches, showing that the practice lasted for centuries after the close of the Middle Ages.

10. John the Virile. Tyler had 15 children: 8 with his first wife, 7 with his second. His opponents had another nickname for him: "His Accidency" (a play on "His Excellency" which was used to address the President in that century), for being the first vice president to become president on account of the incumbent's death. What especially blows my mind is the fact that Tyler currently has two grandsons who are still alive.

11. James the Conqueror. Polk's lasting legacy is in annexing Texas to the Union, waging the Mexican-American War, and enlarging the country's landmass by a third. He was known to be even more zealous in the quest for manifest destiny than most. He achieved an incredible lot of work for only one term, promised to serve only one term, and actually abstained from seeking re-election when the time came. Alas, he died three months later of cholera, prompting Sam Houston to remark that he died "a victim of the use of water as a beverage".

12. Zachary the Bold. Taylor was a general of the Mexican-American War whose decisive victories against Santa Anna paved his way to become President. He never expressed political opinions until his presidential campaign, then died after 16 months in office, so he isn't remembered for much else.

13. Millard the..... hmm, I honestly can't think of an epithet for this guy. Last of the Whigs, maybe? Who names their son Millard? [Update: a reader suggested Milliard the Mediocre, which is as good an epithet as any.]

14. Franklin the Handsome. Pierce was actually called "Handsome Frank" during his term for his classical Roman face and dark, wavy hair.

15. James the Chaste. Buchanan was the only President to have never married. Before he moved to the White House, he shared his house with William Rufus King (Vice President under Pierce), for 15 years. Not an unusual arrangement for ordinary men today (including myself), but it does seem mighty bizarre for a grown man with a roommate to be elected to the highest office in the nation.... even today, not to mention the Victorian age.

16. Abraham the Martyr. Though I'm sure those of a more southern persuasion could think of alternate names for Lincoln, history is written by the victors. Lincoln, like King Charles I (also called "the Martyr" by some), has been effectively canonized by popular acclaim. But unlike Charles, people still care about Lincoln today.

17. Andrew the Tailor. Whatever Johnson's failures as President, I give him props for making it into the Oval Office from such humble origins. Johnson was raised in poverty, ran away from home at 16 to become a tailor, married at only 18, and was self-educated. His enemies called him "white trash" even back then.

18. Hiram the Drunkard. Who's Hiram, you say? The man we know as Ulysses S. Grant was born from a clerical error. When he was 17, Hiram Ulysses Grant was nominated by his Congressman to the U.S. Military Academy at West Point... but for whatever reason, his Congressman mistakenly entered his name as Ulysses S. Grant. Not to jeopardize this opportunity for advancement, Grant actually changed his name to match the mistake. The S. doesn't actually stand for anything! And here's another interesting fact: when Grant was born, his family couldn't decide on a name for him, so each member of the family wrote a name on a piece of paper and dropped it into a hat. The name drawn from said hat was Hiram Ulysses.

19. Rutherford the Usurper. The election of 1876 was perhaps the most contested in American history. Congress created an Electoral Commission to resolve it, and Hayes won by just one electoral vote. His enemies called him "His Fraudulency", and some simply refused to recognize his legitimacy.

20. James the Wise. Garfield was committed to battling illiteracy and providing education to the less fortunate, especially blacks. He had a 3,000-book library that would make any liberal arts major envious, and developed a trapezoid proof of the Pythagorean theorem. I've always thought his assassination at the hands of a complete madman was the most tragic of all Presidents'.

21. Chester the Walrus. "Walrus" was a nickname given by children for Arthur's peculiar choice of facial hair. His slick New York sense of fashion also earned him the nickname "Prince Arthur".

22 and 24. Stephen the Interrupted. Better known by his middle name, Grover Cleveland was the only president to serve nonconsecutive terms. He entered the presidency as a bachelor, and his sister served as First Lady for two years. Cleveland married a 21-year old girl by the name of Frances Folsom, becoming the only President to have ever married in the White House.

23. Benjamin the Frostbitten. Harrison, grandson of William Henry, was called a human iceberg for his chilly disposition when talking to individuals.

25. William the Merchant Prince. The McKinley Administration's policies on business, industry, and expansion can be credited for putting America on the track to becoming an economic and imperialist powerhouse.

26. Theodore the Lionheart. Teddy and King Richard I have a surprising lot in common. Both achieved lasting celebrity not so much for their political policies, but because, whether it's San Juan Hill or the Third Crusade, they lived larger-than-life in the eyes of their people.A hole in the wall of the Menger Bar in downtown San Antonio marks where Teddy fired his pistol while recruiting Rough Riders.

27. William the Merry. "Fat" is too mild a word for Taft, so let's use "Merry" as a euphemism for obese. Taft was so fat, he got stuck in the White House's bathtub and required his aides to use butter to dislodge him. He then famously ordered the current Presidential bathtub, which is large enough to fit four comfortably. It's said that Taft hated being President, but found fulfillment in his later career as Chief Justice of the Supreme Court.

28. Thomas the Professor. T. Woodrow Wilson was a professor and president of Princeton University prior to Washington. As President (of the US), he lectured visitors to the White House on history and other academic subjects. His academic background, unfortunately, displayed itself in a frightening commitment to "making the world safe for democracy" with no regard for the art of politics.

29. Warren the Unlucky. Harding kicked off the Roaring Twenties with a reputation for drinking, gambling, and adultery. I call him the Unlucky for having lost all the White House's china in one hand of poker, as well as dying suddenly in the middle of a conversation with his wife. I still think either his wife or one of the powerful mobs of the era poisoned him.

30. John the Silent. Dorothy Parker made a bet with J. Calvin Coolidge, saying: "Mr. Coolidge, I've made a bet against a fellow who said it was impossible to get more than two words out of you." Coolidge's response was, "You lose". Despite Coolidge's reputation for being a quiet man, he actually gave interviews with reporters more frequently than any other President in history, possibly including Obama.

31. Herbert the Builder. Hoover actually started quite a few building projects, including the famous Dam. Unfortunately, FDR would end up taking the credit for all the success Hoover started to recover from the Great Depression.

32. Franklin the Lame. If FDR were a medieval king, he'd inevitably be defined mainly by his inability to walk. In truth, he was extremely conscious of his disability and took care never to be seen in public while in a wheelchair.

33. Harry Four-eyes. Not Harold or Harrison; Truman's parents formally named him just Harry. Like Grant, his middle initial S. also doesn't stand for anything, but Truman's parents did so deliberately. Truman wasn't the first president to wear glasses, but I believe he was the first president to wear glasses every waking moment of the day, and from a young age. His childhood dream of going ot West Point was never realized on account of poor eyesight. He was only able to pass the eyesight exam and join the Missouri National Guard because he memorized the letters on the eye chart.

34. Dwight Martel. Martel, meaning "the hammer", for Eisenhower's role in planning the invasions of France and Germany during World War II. Though he was a warrior, I dare say Eisenhower could be called Dwight the Pacific. He ended the Korean War and kept America out of any other ears during his two terms.

35. John the Beloved. Kennedy's successful combination of charm, good looks, speeches, and his assassination have all ensured his place as most-loved president of the 20th century. Perhaps his enemies would have called him Jack the Papist or Johnny Foreigner on account of religion or Irishness.

36. Lyndon the Spacefarer. Of course LBJ didn't actually go to space; nor did Prince Henry the Navigator actually sail around the world. But for all Johnson's faults, he put a man on the moon, which is more than can be said of any of us in the 21st century, despite the fact that we all use computers that are far more advanced than the ones used on the Apollo missions.

37. Tricky Dick is the only presidential nickname I think really stands on par with the monikers of the medieval kings. I leave this one as is. It can't be topped.

38. Gerald the Affable. Pardoning Nixon really did a number on Ford's reputation, but he deserves the epithet "Affable" for maintaining a relatively nonpartisan image and even eventually overcoming the stigma of the Nixon years. Perhaps it was because he had the luxury of being the only President to not have to run for either President or Vice President. (Ford's birth name, by the way, was actually Leslie, but it was changed early on in his life.)

39. James the Farmer. Like "Farmer George" III, Carter was praised or mocked for his passion for agriculture. Alternately, James the Pious, as Carter was a Sunday school teacher and was known to pray multiple times a day even as President.

40. Ronald the Diviner. Reagan may be a favorite president of the so-called religious right in our times, but he also made frequent recourse to the advice of astrologers. Joan Quigley, who may perhaps be called our first Court Astrologer, said: "Not since the days of the Roman emperors—and never in the history of the United States Presidency—has an astrologer played such a significant role in the nation's affairs of State."

41. George the Spymaster. Bush the Elder, before becoming President, served for a short time as Director of the CIA. Espionage had never been so reviled as during the Middle Ages in Europe, so if Bush the Elder had ever been a medieval king, he would have forever been caricatured as a shifty, paranoid intriguer with a dagger hidden under his cloak.

42. William the Wanton. We remember Clinton's presidency mainly for his extramarital affairs, though they would've gone without notice, or even been accepted as normal, during medieval times. As we live in an age where even the highest members of society marry "for love" rather than political alliance, we are not so forgiving anymore.

43. George the Stutterer. Bush the Younger had no gift for oratory. In the past, kings and presidents could overcome this flaw by the use of heralds or the printing press to disseminate their ideas. In the era of radio, television, and the Internet, a poor public speaker is ripe for a media-induced beating.

44. Barack the Blackamoor. For an allegedly post-racial generation, our current president is still accounted, even or especially by his supporters, primarily for being black. With less than a month until the next election, time will tell how, or even if, he'll be remembered for anything else.