DIVINE WRONGS, HISTORY'S WORST KINGS

John, King of England 

1. John, King of England (reigned 1199-1216)

King John was not a good king 
he had his funny ways
And no one used to talk to him
for days and days and days
(AA Milne)

John wasn’t a good king, in both senses, for he was neither kind nor competent. His seventeen-year reign was a mixture of cruelty and failure.

As a youth, he was ignored for much of the time in favor of his three elder brothers, particular the glamorous Richard the Lionheart. Perhaps this explains the wild bursts of rage, and his suspicious, even paranoid, nature. At first there seemed little danger of him inheriting anything. He was derisively nicknamed “Lackland” by his father, Henry II; but with each unfortunate accident John moved nearer and nearer to the throne. His eldest brother Henry died of dysentery; Geoffrey was trampled by a horse, which left just Richard in the way. John didn’t want to wait for such technicalities as Richard’s death; when his brother was captured on his way back from the Crusades, John seized the crown. The resulting lawlessness gave rise to the legend of Robin Hood. Two years later, Richard was released and John begged forgiveness. Richard’s opinion of his backstabbing brother can be gathered from his reply, “Think no more of it; John, you are only a child...” John was in his late twenties at the time.

After five more years of waiting, John’s luck changed. A fluke arrow hit Richard during a siege and John was king at last. Even his friends (he had some in those days) couldn’t quite believe it and giggled during the coronation service in Normandy, especially when John dropped the crown and scepter. It wasn’t a good omen.

But John was too sinister to be considered a mere buffoon. When he was campaigning in France, he captured his nephew and rival Arthur of Brittany. Instead of ransoming him (normal for a medieval prince), he had the twelve-year-old murdered in a drunken rage. Even by the low standards of the day, this was too much and many nobles deserted him for the King of France. In the ensuing war, John was forced out of most of his father’s vast continental empire. The ancient link between France and England was gone and John’s reputation never recovered. With his new nickname, “Softsword,” he spent much of his time trying to regain his lost territory, but lacked the necessary willpower.

Taxes rose to pay for his campaigns. John was always good at squeezing money out of people. One scheme was forcing noble widows to remarry, then charging them such a fee that they might be financially ruined, leaving John to seize their estates. England’s Jewish community particularly suffered. In 1210, they were imprisoned and fined sixty thousand marks. By way of thanks some had an eye gouged out or gold teeth extracted from their mouths—John anticipated Nazi Germany by over seven hundred years.

Ruthlessness wasn’t the real reason for John’s unpopularity. It was often part of medieval kingship, though John’s cruelty was so random even loyal supporters never felt safe. John’s main problem was that he was a failure; whether in diplomacy or domestic rule he always managed to disappoint. Following Henry II brought land and spoils; following John usually brought defeat. His forays in Ireland, Scotland, and Wales (where he cold-bloodedly slew twenty-eight sons of the Welsh nobility) could not make up for the losses in France. His quarrel with Pope Innocent III over church appointments led to the entire country being denied church services. John was forced to grovel and offer the Pope his kingdom as homage.

By 1214, following another defeat by the French, his barons rose in rebellion and made John sign the Magna Carta. This famous document placed explicit limits on what a king could do. It was the first tentative steps towards constitutional monarchy, so perhaps England should be grateful for John’s ineptness. A better king might not have been forced to concede so much.

John died a year later, carried off by dysentery and fever, after gorging himself on peaches. He had been campaigning to crush the baronial rebels. Such was the discontent that some of the nobles had invited the King of France’s son as an alternative candidate. The Barnwell Chronicle wrote, “He had been abandoned before the end by his own people, and in his own end he was little mourned.”

2. Nicholas II, Tsar of Russia (reigned 1894-1917)

“(Nicholas) would have been an ideal country gentleman, devoting his life to wife and children, his farms and his sport.” 
(A friend of the Tsar)

“Nicholas II was not fit to run a village post office.”
(Leon Trotsky, an enemy of the Tsar)

The Russian Communist leadership used to joke that they should award Nicholas a posthumous Order of the Red Banner (the highest decoration for services to the Revolution) for all he did to help them win power. This dimwit was completely unsuited to guide Russia into the modern world, as it was the modern world he really hated.

If Cher had been alive during Nicholas’ reign, her song “Turn Back Time” would have been on his playlist. He wanted his court to imitate his favorite Tsar, Alexis Mikhailovich, who lived in the seventeenth century. He contemplated dressing servants in old-style Kaftans and was only put off by the expense. It’s like a modern president suggesting his staffers dress in tricorn hats and knee breeches.

Russia was a growing industrial power, with an increasingly literate, urban population. A clash of values was inevitable. In the age of the automobile and the telephone, the Tsar still believed he was divinely appointed to rule over his people as if they were children. The Russian Revolution was one of the most tragic and violent events in world history. It didn’t have to be that way, and much of this was due to Nicholas.

3. Cosimo III, Duke of Tuscany (reigned 1670-1723)

By the 1670s the Duchy of Tuscany was in serious decline. Once the financial and artistic capital of Europe, it was now wracked by poverty. What the people needed was an energetic ruler to restore this once proud dukedom. They got Cosimo III instead.

When much of Europe was moving to modern secular states, Cosimo wanted to recreate the medieval world of religious fanaticism and brutal punishments. Jews could not walk into the same houses as Christians. Gays were beheaded. Men could not call up to women on balconies (no Romeo and Juliet here). His Medici ancestors had once been patrons to artists like Michelangelo and Leonardo da Vinci. Cosimo III spent his money on holy relics, huge meals, and little clockwork calendars of the saints.

By the time of his death the population had declined by forty percent.

4. Fyodor I, Tsar of Russia (reigned 1584-1598)

Sometimes nature can play cruel tricks. Ivan the Terrible was a vicious but effective ruler. He was tall, physically imposing and smart. His son was, putting it kindly, not so blessed.

In fact Fyodor I was a moron. His habit of grinning all the time led some to believe he was a fully-fledged simpleton, but others saw his demeanor as holy. There is a long tradition of “saintly fools” in Russia, and Fyodor fitted the bill nicely. Not only by his gurning, but he also loved ringing church bells with anal regularity. Meanwhile the Russian Court was falling apart. Intrigue and ruthless infighting prefigured a serious conflict, but Fyodor preferred to bell-ring his life away. When he died Russia was subjected to a fifteen-year civil war called “The Time of Troubles” where a third of the population died.

Fyodor might have been a fool but he was hardly saintly.

5. Zog I, King of Albania (reigned 1928-1939)

King Zog’s reign was as eccentric as his name. He could never make up his mind whether to be Albania’s Mussolini or a member of the European royalty. Mostly he resembled Charlie Chaplin in The Great Dictator.

Albania had only been independent twelve years before he came to power, but such trivialities never bothered Zog. He claimed his crown was descended from Achilles, Pyrrhus, and Alexander the Great. King Zog started a cult of personality with the fascist trappings of the time. Albanians had to learn a Zogist salute (flat hand over the heart with a downward facing palm, if you want to try it at home); the letter Z was burned into hillsides; and shopkeepers were fined for not putting up his picture.

Although Albania was the poorest country in Europe, Zog still felt he should have a lifestyle appropriate for a monarch. As the New Yorker wrote, he turned up for his lavish coronation dressed in “rose-colored breeches, gold spurs, and a gold crown weighing seven and five-eighths pounds.” He also wanted a gaudy summerhouse by the beach. One visitor likened it to a “casino in one of the minor Belgium sea-coast resorts.” Taste was something Zog never managed to acquire. He would walk around in a white and gold uniform with a plumed hat, until foreign ridicule persuaded him to wear suits. “What’s going on in Albania…are you performing a comic opera?” asked the Turkish leader, Kemal Ataturk.

Zog rarely went abroad due to fears for his safety. These fears proved well founded when someone tried to shoot him on a foreign trip. Instead of running away, Zog took out a revolver and fired back. It’s hard to imagine many European monarchs (Queen Victoria, for instance) doing the same. Zog mostly stayed in his palace playing cards, talking (he was a major league tediosity), and smoking up to seven packs of cigarettes a day. When it came to finding a bride, no European royal family was interested. Zog had to be content with a down-on-her-luck Hungarian countess, who was scratching out a living selling postcards.

A year later Italy invaded Albania to try and emulate Hitler’s military success. Poor Zog never stood a chance. The Albanian air force consisted of two planes, though Zog’s appointment of his sisters as army commanders can’t have helped.

Zog fled to the US with a sufficient percentage of Albania’s wealth to acquire a mansion on Long Island, straight out of The Great Gatsby. Bought it was said with a “bucket of diamonds and rubies.”

6. Richard II, King of England (reigned 1377-1399)

Richard II’s reign was a case of too much, too young. The story of a spoiled adolescent who grew to become an insufferable adult. King at nine years of age, his finest hour came when he was just fourteen, during the Peasants’ Revolt. Ten thousand descended on London demanding an end to the new Poll Tax, which had hit the medieval Joe Sixpacks hard. Much of the nobility fled, but Richard met the rebels face-to-face and agreed to their demands. When the rebels had dispersed, most of the concessions were withdrawn and hundreds were executed.

Richard’s ego now reached messianic proportions. He had always believed a king inherited his power from God and was answerable to no one on earth. The Peasants’ Revolt had only strengthened this belief. Hadn’t the nobles behaved like frightened schoolboys, while he had shown courage beyond his years? This was a huge mistake. More astute monarchs realized they were only as powerful as the lords allowed. Brutalizing peasants was one thing but annoying the aristocracy was quite another. Yet even the highest lords weren’t allowed to look him in the eye, while he was the first English monarch to insist on being called “Majesty.” Richard appointed his own supporters to offices the nobles believed were rightly theirs. All this from someone barely out of adolescence.

As he grew older, he got worse. Magnates who had attempted to restrain him were murdered. By the time he was thirty Richard seemed to have established absolute power, but this was an illusion. The nobles were temporarily cowed but not beaten, and they were just waiting for revenge. Their chance came when Richard foolishly banished the most powerful lord in the land, his cousin Henry Bolinbroke, the Duke of Lancaster. This did not go down well, for if he could do this to Bolinbroke who else was safe? When the Duke returned with an army in 1399, support for the king melted away. Richard was forced to abdicate, imprisoned, and then starved to death. A cruel end, but as one chronicler noted at the time, “All the good hearts of the realm clean turned away from him.” Shortly afterwards, Bolinbroke was proclaimed Henry IV.

7. Liu He, Emperor of China (reigned 74 BCE)

He was left the throne of Han China when his uncle, Emperor Zhao, died. Zhao has fallen out with his son, but the nineteen-year-old Liu He was still an unexpected choice (a case of Liu He, Who He?).

He lost no time in doing what any teenage lottery winner would do. He blew it. During a period of mourning for the old emperor he started having some serious fun. This was completely against ancient Chinese traditions but…hey he’s the emperor now. Wine, women, and song were the order of the day as friends were promoted and the treasury emptied.

“Tonight we’re going to party like it’s 74 BCE.”

When his aunt, the Dowager Empress, heard she immediately went to the palace. In that tone adults use with teenagers caught sleeping on a bed of beer cans, she fired Liu He. His reign lasted twenty-seven days. It must have been a great party though.

8. Muhammad II, Shah of Khwarezm (reigned 1200-1220)

Genghis Khan. The psychopath’s psychopath. A ruler so violent he’d wipe out an entire city if his yak’s milk was a bit on the sour side. Not someone you’d want to upset.

So when Genghis offered a decent trade deal to Muhammad II, the Shah of the Khwarazmian Empire (roughly the territory of Greater Iran), you’d have thought he’d grab it with both hands. Not the Shah; after all he was the ruler of Khwarezm, the mighty empire that will last for all eternity. Who was this Mongolian tent dweller anyway? When Genghis sent some emissaries for trade talks, Muhammad II had them arrested. Remarkably the Mongol Mr. Big didn’t react in his usual way and sent another envoy to say the deal was still on. The Shah executed them, giving a couple of heads back to Genghis as presents.

Genghis Khan’s revenge was total. He sent his greatest general, Subotai, and a hundred thousand soldiers to obliterate Khwarezm. Every town was raised, the entire population slaughtered. Salt was mixed into the ground so nothing would grow. The whole civilization was effaced from the world. He should have signed that trade deal.

9. Philip II, King of Spain (reigned 1556-1598)

Philip II inherited the mightiest empire of the sixteenth century. His lands stretched from Tunis to Texas. They included the Netherlands, the commercial center of Europe, and Spain. Its Latin America colonies made Philip as rich as Croesus. But his intense religious faith led to the empire’s steep decline. He never lived to see it; he left that to his descendants.

The gold from the Americas was worth eleven trillion dollars in today’s money. But this was frittered away in foreign wars—mostly against those who dared have a different religion to Philip—while the Spanish economy was neglected. High taxes and a tangled bureaucracy didn’t help, nor did persecuting Moriscos, the Muslim converts who formed a large part of the business community. Inflation and emigration were rife.

He was a religious bigot when fellow rulers—Henry IV of France, Elizabeth I of England and the Dutch William the Silent—were moving towards toleration. Spain’s cultural Golden Age had already begun but he did his best to shut it down. Spaniards were prevented from studying abroad, cutting off Spain from the currents of European thought. The Spanish Inquisition, the notorious church police, instilled a stultifying conformity. A dislike of modernity pervaded a society where priests and soldiers were honorable callings; businessmen and scientists were associated with foreigners, Protestants, and Jews. A quarter of the country was employed by the church.

Nothing sums up Philip better than the palace he built. Part monastery, with a basilica at its center, the Escorial was full of monks and mystics; its floor plan was based on St. Lawrence’s grill (the patron saint of barbecues had been burned to death on a hot grill in the third century). Philip put eight dead relatives in the crypt and, for a pick-me-up, would visit them to remember his own mortality. His collection of holy relics contained hundreds of saints’ body parts. Philip II loved his collection like a geek loves his model train set.

When he was dying, “He asked, during his final days, to have relics corresponding to his aching limbs directly applied to his open wounds. He claimed that the presence as well as the contact with a part of Saint Sebastian’s knee, one of Saint Alban’s ribs, or the arm of Saint Vincent Ferrer, soothed his pains and helped him prepare for the sufferings to come.” Philip carried on the Habsburg habit of marrying relatives; three of his four wives were cousins or nieces, which might explain some of his descendants’ unusual behavior.

By the end of his reign Holland, the most productive part of the empire, had been lost. The English had defeated Philip’s “Invincible” Armada, but Spain had lots of new shiny churches. Once the gold and silver starting running out, Spain went into a terminal tailspin.

Cervantes’ classic novel Don Quixote was written shortly after Philip II died. It is a wonderful symbol of his reign. Don Quixote was a minor noble who still believed it was the middle ages. The inability to come to terms with the modern world—that was the legacy of Philip II.

10. Gian Gastone de’ Medici, Grand Duke of Tuscany (reigned 1723-1737)

The last Medici to rule Florence, Gian Gastone, was a drunk who spent most of the last seven years of his reign in bed. Visiting him required a strong stomach: his boudoir was filled with excrement, puke, and the smell of the dogs. On the rare occasions he ventured out, Gian Gastone made a spectacle of himself by vomiting or uttering obscenities. The Keith Moon of European royalty.

Written by Adam Powell in " History's Worst - 200 Years of Idiocy", Robert D. Reed Publishers, USA,2014, chapter 7. Digitized, adapted and illustrated to be posted by Leopoldo Costa.