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January 20, 1265:  The First Meeting of “Talking Place” (You know it might sound better in French)

Imagine if George Bush ran off with Paris Hilton. The equivalent happened in 1200 when England’s abysmal King John ran off with super-debutante Isabelle of Angouleme. You can imagine the tabloid headlines on the illuminated manuscripts. Yet these two vacuous, vicious people somehow produced an affable guy like Henry III. Unfortunately, competence would have been too much to hope for; some historians rate Henry III as a more inept king than his father.

Henry never quite noticed little problems like a nation-wide famine. His misrule finally incited a rebellion by the exasperated nobles, led by Simon de Montfort. Since Henry’s military ability was on a par with his other talents, he was soon captured. De Montfort, now the real ruler of England, realized that the Magna Carta had left a few loopholes and he thought of a way to create a less oblivious government.

With the King’s coerced approval, de Montfort summoned an assembly of elected representatives from England’s counties and towns. The first meeting of this assembly, called a Parliament, convened this day in 1265. Its representatives formed a permanent advisory council. Of course, the King could ignore the advice but not the Parliament’s greatest prerogative: no law could be enacted without its consent. Whenever his majesty wanted to wage war, raise revenues, or declare an annoying cousin a traitor, he had to submit the appropriate legislation to Parliament.

Unfortunately, England was not immediately transformed into a democracy. Despite its potential power, Parliament did not assert itself. For two centuries, the assembly acted like a notary public: approving and filing the royal decrees. Nor did Simon de Montfort lived happily ever after; in fact, he didn’t live.

In an unexpected development, Henry III had a capable son. Prince Edward raised an army to overthrow and slay de Montfort. Yet, even with its supremacy reestablished, the royal family did not disband Parliament. In fact, the assembly proved to be a bastion of royalists. If forced to choose between the great nobles and the king, the burghers and the small landowners preferred one tyrant to thirty.

So, even in the 13th century, the Chamber of Commerce and the Rotary Club had conservative leanings.

On this day in 1216, King John lost the crown jewels in a flood. John was fleeing from his nobles; they seemed a bit upset after he reneged on the Magna Carta. The barons had decided to oust the little weasel and invited the French crown prince Louis (what else) to be king of England.

In his flight from the realm of England’s Louis I, John took a route along the eastern coast. Unfortunately, he had not quite mastered the concept of incoming tides. In an estuary known as the Wash, John’s baggage train was washed away.

John had an obvious talent for losing. Understandably the least favorite child of Eleanor of Aquitaine, John also had lost Normandy to the French, and his power to the barons. He would have lost the throne, too but for his rare instance of decisive initiative. He dropped dead. The death was suitably ridiculous: a surfeit of peaches and ale. Yet, it effectively ended the rebellion.

(The barons realized that John’s heir, his nine year-old son Henry, would make a much more malleable king than an adult French prince. In return for the barons’ allegiance, the regency of Henry III un-reneged the Magna Carta.)

Yet, for all of John’s losing, he could keep a woman. John and Isabelle d’Angouleme had an unique courtship. Upon seeing the beautiful twelve-year-old, John was so obsessed that he kidnapped her and coerced her into marriage.

For some reason, John never quite trusted her. He suspected that she was having an affair with a young noble, so the King arranged a surprise for his queen. She found the murdered noble hanging in her bedchamber.

Queen Elizabeth is a descendant of this happy union.