Introduction part I – the sovereigns

King John’s reign over England, 1199 to 1216, was a litany of failures and losses. From his brother Richard I he inherited vast Continental possessions, Normandy, Anjou, Maine, Touraine, Poitou and Aquitaine. He failed to act as a just lord of these lands, and lost all but Aquitaine to his ally become foe Philippe II of France. He failed to be a just king in England also; his despotic rule, frequent cruelties and incessant harsh taxation, intended to finance the recapture of the lost fiefs, alienated his subjects and led to widespread revolt and eventually the importation of the French king’s son, who was set up as king in John’s stead. His attempt to maintain the rights of the kings of England over appointments to its Church led only to the entire loss of those rights and John’s submission to the Pope as his vassal.

It would be easy to say that the most successful thing John ever did was die unexpectedly at the early age of forty-nine, allowing support to accrue to his nine-year-old heir Henry III and eventually leading to a successful conclusion of the civil war John’s failures as man and monarch had provoked. And yet his seventeen-year reign was the foundation of England’s, later Britain’s, status as a constitutional kingdom under law, and of much else besides. John was intelligent, energetic, highly literate, an able administrator and a capable general, but he had no moral compass. He respected no law or right and no man’s wife, ruling by his own arbitrary will and taking his pleasure wherever and with whoever he pleased.

These latter failings led to the loss of the French lands, but that in turn, combined with the former and more admirable traits, led to John becoming known as the Father of the English Navy. There had been no particular need of one before, seeing as the English monarch owned or controlled the entire opposing coastline, but having through his failures created the need John set to and filled it. Through that same loss John became the first English monarch since the Conquest, the abject Stephen aside, to spend the bulk of his reign in England. He concerned himself very directly with administration and the system of justice, producing important reforms to both and extending royal justice at the expense of the baronial version, albeit his intentions were not benign but to improve the efficiency with which his extortionate taxes and fines could be gathered.

His essential worthlessness as a man nearly led to the loss of England too, and probably would have were it not for the changed situation produced by John’s death. Sixteen months earlier, on 15^th June 1215 at Runnymede, on the banks of the Thames near Windsor, John had sealed what was in essence a peace treaty with his barons, he promising to rule in future justly and in accordance with law and they to be his faithful vassals. No one really expected it to work, and it didn’t. The barons understandably did not trust John to keep his word and did not stand down their forces, and John, who had promised among many other things not to appeal to the Pope to nullify his oath, promptly did just that, the Pope as promptly obliging.

But in 1216 the agreement was reissued in the name of the young Henry III, and in 1217 again, gaining the name of Magna Carta, shortened from Magna Carta Libertatum, ‘the Great Charter of Liberties’, by which it was forever after known. It was issued once more in 1225 in abbreviated form, and in 1297 this version was enshrined in statute by Henry III’s son Edward I. It remained in effect in its entirety until the 19^th century, and in three clauses still is today, these guaranteeing in turn the freedom of the Church, the liberties of London and other cities and towns and the right to due process of law.

The Church was a main broker in the peace negotiations and as always looked after its own interests, London was in rebel hands and its citizens had to be mollified, and as for the last clause, consider its translated wording: ‘No free man shall be seized or imprisoned, or stripped of his rights or possessions, or outlawed or exiled, or deprived of his standing in any way, nor will we proceed with force against him, or send others to do so, except by the lawful judgment of his equals or by the law of the land. To no one will we sell, to no one deny or delay right or justice.’

John of course had regularly, indeed habitually, done all these things which he now pledged not to do again, and the clause was intended specifically to restrain his actions, not that anyone expected that it would. But it became the foundation of trial by jury and impartial, independent justice, not because it was intended to but because its wording allowed that to happen, and similarly by a process of evolution and accrued quasi-mythological status the failed peace agreement, seen by no one at the time as of any particular significance and swiftly annulled, became the foundation of constitutional rule in these lands and eventually many others.

This year sees the 800^th anniversary of the most important of what might be called John’s fortunate failures, and many public events are planned to mark it. This is my own offering, posted on the first day of the year, charts and supporting material exploring the relationships between King John and seventeen of his fellow monarchs and tracing descent from them to the present day.

Some of these were famous, great men who accomplished much, such as Philippe II of France, known as ‘Augustus’, Friedrich II of Germany, later Emperor and known as Stupor Mundi, ‘the Wonder of the World’, and Chaime I of Aragón, known as ‘the Conqueror’. Some were worthy but obscure, others less worthy but still obscure, and two did not even live beyond childhood. All however feature in the charts and the discussion of posterities, and will be covered at varying lengths in a fuller version of this introduction I hope to post later in the month.

There are two contemporary European sovereigns who do not appear, these being Inge II of Norway and Boril of Bulgaria. The latter is in a slightly better position than his later successor George Terter I, similarly overlooked in the 1286 thread, in that while we have no clue who George Terter’s parents were, for Boril we have guesses but aren’t sure. But actually even if the guesses were confirmed there would still be no possibility of establishing relationships for him, nor is there anyone known to be of his descent.

Of the sovereigns I do treat of, I was unable to establish a complete set of relationships for Hugues I of Cyprus, Erik X of Sweden and Yaroslav of Pereyaslavl, my chosen Russian prince. I could though connect them to a good number of their fellow sovereigns, whereas for Inge II the number was three; Valdemar II of Denmark, 5c, András II of Hungary, also 5c, and Demetrius of Thessalonica, 5c1r, all through Godwin, Earl of Wessex. Obviously there was no point in bulking up the charts with him when his known relationships could be so simply summarised, and I did not.

Before I move to the second part of the introduction, which introduces the charts and analyses the relationships, I should explain the second part of the thread title. Although as said a full set of relationships is shown for most of the monarchs there are all too many gaps, and if I continued to go back in time the gaps would multiply, reducing the meaningfulness of the results I did manage to produce. So I will not be going back any further, and this, the earliest-dated of all the threads, is also the last I will produce.

It is in that way both end and beginning, which inevitably made me think of the great passage from T.S. Eliot’s Little Gidding from which I used a brief excerpt to close the main portion of the introduction to 1453 (the earliest-dated thread in my original series). A little presumptuous of me perhaps, but I decided that the passage as a whole would serve as a fitting envoi for the extended series as a whole, its themes of time and mortality and history binding the present to the past echoed by the 800-year-long narrative the threads form. So here at the beginning, the master poet’s words will be the very end.

A note on posterities

Of the eighteen monarchs that appear in the charts, twelve are universal ancestors of today’s sovereigns, one is an ancestor of four of them, and the remaining five of none, having in fact no known posterity at all. The twelve are Philippe II of France, Afonso II of Portugal, Alfonso IX of León, Přemysl I Otakar of Bohemia, the German king (also King of Sicily, and later Holy Roman Emperor) Friedrich II, John of England, Valdemar II of Denmark, Hugues I of Cyprus, András II of Hungary, Erik X of Sweden, Yaroslav of Pereyaslavl and Chaime I of Aragón.

Rather than just refer to notes for other years or resort once again to Emperor Ferdinand I, I thought I would try to find someone else of reasonable interest, descended from most at least of the twelve, who himself was an ancestor of Jan Willem Friso, nearest common ancestor of the current sovereigns. My choice fell on Albrecht IV, Duke of Bavaria (1447-1508).

As he reunified Bavaria as sole Duke and arranged for the future inheritance to be indivisible he is of some note, and was descended from eight of the twelve sovereigns. His wife Archduchess Kunigunde of Austria, daughter of the Emperor Friedrich III, was descended from three of the others and the gap is filled by Elizabeth of York, daughter of Edward IV of England and wife of Henry VII. In the 1286 note she is part of the chain from William the Lion of Scotland, grandfather of Alexander III of the same, and is thus shown to be a universal ancestress. The following table shows descents to these three; a descent of Jan Willem Friso from Albrecht IV and Kunigunde can be seen here.

Note that Kunigunde was a descendant* of Edward III of England, and is thus one of the extremely large number of ways by which sovereigns of today descend from him, discussed at length in the 1330 note part I. There is descent from three of the children of Kunigunde and Albrecht IV to current royalty, Sabina, Duchess of Württemberg and Susanne, Margravine of Brandenburg-Kulmbach being ancestresses of all and Wilhelm IV, Duke of Bavaria, an ancestor of the Catholics, the Prince of Monaco aside, and also of the three Scandinavian monarchs.  Sabina appears in the link to Jan Willem Friso above, though this is very far from being the only route from her to royalty of today; here is a similar link for Susanne, and the same applies.

This traces Wilhelm IV to Carlos IV of Spain, a demonstrated ancestor of the four Catholic monarchs, and there are again an almost incalculable number of other ways to trace descents from him to them, certainly for the Grand Duke of Luxembourg and the Kings of Belgium and Spain, and even for the Prince of Liechtenstein the number is large. This shows descent from Wilhelm IV to Oscar II of Sweden and Norway, of whom Margrethe II of Denmark and Carl XVI Gustaf of Sweden are great-great-grandchildren and Harald V of Norway a great-grandson, as the links show.

The above was not pure digression, as not only multiplicity of descent from Edward III was demonstrated but also multiplicity of descent from eleven of the twelve 1215 monarchs. Edward III himself incidentally was descended from five of the twelve, Philippe II (twice), Alfonso IX, John (naturally), Chaime I and András II, while his wife Philippa of Hainaut could muster Philippe II (twice again), Chaime I and András II (twice).

Turning to the five 1215 monarchs without known descent, these are Sancho VII of Navarre, Demetrius of Thessalonica, Isabella II of Jerusalem, Enrique I of Castile and the Latin Emperor Henri. Sancho VII had one legitimate son, who died aged fifteen, and apparently several illegitimate children, but posterity if any from them is not known. His successor was his sister Blanca’s son Thibaut I, who was Count of Champagne and thus paternally of the same line as King Stephen of England. Champagne incidentally remained with the Navarrese royal house, which with Jeanne I merged temporarily into that of France, until her granddaughter Jeanne II agreed with Philippe VI to exchange it for lands in Normandy, Philippe wishing to keep the strategically important County of Champagne within the direct royal domain. Showing Edward III as Thibaut I’s great-great-grandson should sufficiently demonstrate collateral descent from Sancho VII.

Demetrius, who died in his early twenties, never married and had no known illegitimate children. He was the sole child of his father Boniface I of Montferrat’s marriage with Margarete of Hungary, but this was a second marriage for both of them and posterity exists from their respective first marriages. I will trace Boniface I to Albrecht IV of Bavaria again, and Margarete to Vladislav II of Bohemia and Hungary, the father of Anna Jagiello, wife of the Emperor Ferdinand I (whom I was never going to be able to keep out of things altogether).

Isabella II of Jerusalem, who was not so much married to the Emperor Friedrich II as added to his harem, died in her teens but leaving a son, Conrad II of Jerusalem, I of Sicily and IV as German king. He died aged twenty-six, also leaving a son, Conrad III of Jerusalem, more usually known as Conradin. He was murdered aged sixteen by Charles I of Sicily, Conradin being lawful successor to the throne of Sicily which Charles had usurped.

That wicked act extinguished the Imperial House of Hohenstaufen, and also the posterity of Isabella II. There is ample posterity from her father Jean de Brienne, including for example Roger Mortimer, 1^st Earl of March, shown to be a universal ancestor in post #18 of the 1330 thread. None though from her mother Maria of Montferrat, Queen of Jerusalem in her own right as Isabella II was. Maria’s mother Isabella I of Jerusalem is however a universal ancestress, which I will show by tracing her to Hugues IV of Cyprus, demonstrated to be a universal ancestor in part I of the same thread’s note.

Enrique I of Castile was only thirteen when he died, so could hardly be expected to have progeny. None of his father Alfonso VIII’s other sons lived to any greater age, but he had three daughters from whom posterity survives. Berenguela, her brother’s heiress, was wife to Alfonso IX of León and can be seen in the links from him to Kunigunde and Edward III above; Urraca was wife to Afonso II of Portugal, and can be seen in the link from him to Kunigunde; and Blanche was wed to Louis VIII of France, and appears in all three links from his father Philippe II.

The final 1215 sovereign without descendants was Henri, Latin Emperor. He was childless but had numerous siblings, descent surviving from four of them to present-day royalty. I will show descent from his brother Baudouin I, his predecessor as Latin Emperor so that seems appropriate, to Edward III’s wife Philippa of Hainaut.

Before moving on to the 1215 sovereign with descents to only some of the monarchs of today I will cover Inge II of Norway, who was omitted from the charts as I could connect him to only three of his fellow sovereigns. Those connections were from Inge’s side all through his male-line forebear Tostig Godwinson, brother of Harold II, last native King of the English. Inge had one illegitimate son, with no known descent from him, and no full siblings, but this shows the descent of Haakon V of Norway from his paternal half-brother Skule Bårdsson. In the 1286 note Haakon V was proved to be a universal ancestor, by way of demonstrating collateral descent from his brother and predecessor Eirik II, and thus the interesting Tostig who played such a part in the events of 1066 is a universal ancestor also.

By process of elimination it must be Alexander II of Scotland with descent to just some current monarchs, and indeed it is. To four of them, as already mentioned, and these are the Queen (stage I; stage II; stage III), Albert II of Monaco (stage I; stage II; stage III), Henri of Luxembourg (stage I; stage II; stage III) and Philippe of Belgium (first two stages as for Henri; stage III). I had hoped to be able to trace wider, indeed universal descent, as I had been under the impression that John of Gaunt’s first wife Blanche of Lancaster was a descendant. Descent is universal from their daughter Philippa, Queen of Portugal as wife of João I, and would also have been from Alexander II if I was right. Unfortunately it appears I was wrong, but at least there are these four descents.**

As mentioned in the introduction part II, this note is followed by an addendum showing the relationships of Leo I of Armenia with the European sovereigns of the day, but before I move to it I will just briefly mention that monarch’s posterity. He is a universal ancestor, which I will demonstrate first by showing descent to James I of England/VI of Scotland, an ancestor of all current monarchs apart from the Prince of Monaco (stage I: stage II), and then to Albert II. I could do the latter through his ancestress Charlotte de la Trémoille, used on several other threads, but will instead explore a different route (stage I; stage II; stage III).

That concludes this note, but the thread continues with the aforementioned addendum and then an envoi for the series as a whole, explained in the introduction part I. I wish this to be the last post on the thread, so will mention here that although the thread is locked, for reasons explained in the discussion thread at the top of the page, anyone who has comment, criticisms or corrections to offer is invited to post them in that thread. All would be welcomed, especially corrections. Any criticism there may be aside, I hope all who read this will have found things to enjoy, both in this thread and the series generally.

Envoi

What we call the beginning is often the end
And to make an end is to make a beginning.
The end is where we start from. And every phrase 
And sentence that is right (where every word is at home, 
Taking its place to support the others,
The word neither diffident nor ostentatious,
An easy commerce of the old and the new,
The common word exact without vulgarity, 
The formal word precise but not pedantic,
The complete consort dancing together)
Every phrase and every sentence is an end and a beginning, 
Every poem an epitaph. And any action
Is a step to the block, to the fire, down the sea's throat 
Or to an illegible stone: and that is where we start.
We die with the dying: 
See, they depart, and we go with them. 
We are born with the dead: 
See, they return, and bring us with them. 
The moment of the rose and the moment of the yew-tree
Are of equal duration. A people without history
Is not redeemed from time, for history is a pattern 
Of timeless moments. So, while the light fails 
On a winter's afternoon, in a secluded chapel
History is now and England.

T.S. Eliot. Little Gidding (1942)