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With the Nobel's recently announced, I've been reading up on Alfred Nobel.  Fascinating life.

He was a morose fellow who felt he was a failure.  And why not, considering what people thought of him.  His creation and manufacture of dynamite had him condemned worldwide (though much of it was cheap attacks at an easy target).

His pariah status was not merely due to his materials used in war.  After all, his father was a munitions maker, so he was used to that.  But dynamite, and related discoveries, led to numerous industrial deaths.

(By the way, in later years Nobel had heart problems, and was not happy to find he was prescribed nitroglycerin.)

His brother Ludwig died in Cannes and was mistaken for Alfred. The headline for the obit read (in French) "The Merchant Of Death Is Dead." No one wants to be remembered that way, so Nobel, who had amassed a fortune, wrote a will pledging his assets toward annual prizes. They'd be given out in science (physics, chemistry and medicine), in literature (Nobel always wanted to be a writer) and in peace (that'll show 'em).

His relatives were not thrilled, and challenged the will, but five years after his death, the Nobel Prizes were first awarded.

And since then, they've become the greatest honor in the world (and include a nice chunk of change). Now when anyone thinks of the name Nobel, the thoughts are almost all positive and high-minded.  Nice work, Alfred.