I would have you know, Sancho, that there are two kinds of lineages in the world: those which trace their descent from princes and monarchs, and which little by little time has diminished and reduced to a point like a pyramid upside down: and others which derive their origin from common folk, and climb step by step till they achieve the dignity of great lords. So that the difference is between those who were and are no longer, and those who are but once were not. It is possible that I may prove to be one of the former, and that, on enquiry, my descent may prove great and noble . . .
So said Don Quixote, in the words of his seventeenth-century creator, Miguel de Cervantes. Although we tend not to think of Don Quixote as an aspiring amateur genealogist, he was evidently very keen to discover his aristocratic ancestry.said Don Quixote, in the words of his seventeenth-century creator, Miguel de Cervantes. Although we tend not to think of Don Quixote as an aspiring amateur genealogist, he was evidently very keen to discover his aristocratic ancestry.
Very little has changed over the four centuries since Cervantes lived. When it became apparent that Kate Middleton was likely to marry Prince William of Wales, genealogists and journalists went into a flurry of activity to trace her roots. What they wanted most was to link her back to aristocratic forebears, who might open the gateway to that Holy Grail of genealogy – royal blood.
As a professional genealogist, I hear regularly from people with stories of aristocratic and royal connections. It is one of the chief reasons why people start investigating their ancestry. It may well be why you are reading this now.
It is a desire I understand very well from my own experience. I grew up with several family stories about aristocratic ancestors. Assuming they were true, I enjoyed exploring all the illustrious connections with which these provided me.
One descent purported to go back to the Dukes of Somerset, and came with a detailed pedigree to prove it. Aged 14 and entirely ignorant of how to go about such matters, I wrote to the present duke, who very kindly directed me ‘to a copy of Burke’s Peerage, which you should find in your local library. Good hunting!’
A lot of hunting ensued. I found Burke’s, alright, and plunged for the first time into its densely printed narrative pedigrees, eagerly waiting for my connection to appear. It didn’t. Eventually, I came to the crushing conclusion that the pedigree I had inherited was wrong, the product of an over-active nineteenth-century imagination.
Later, however, tracing back up another part of the same side of the family, I came to a family who really were listed in Burke’s Landed Gentry. Some of their wives were daughters of baronets, some of whom in turn had married daughters of barons, whose pedigrees were in Burke’s Peerage. On I went, back in time, and ever higher up the social scale, past the dukes until, one fine day, I found a genuine descent from the Blessed Margaret Pole, the last of the Plantagenets, and a great-great-great-granddaughter of Edward III.
It just goes to show: the more you persist, the more likely you are to find what you want.
For me, Margaret Pole became not an end, but a beginning. She was one of Cervantes’ points ‘like a pyramid upside down’. Tracing back through her four grandparents and eight great-grandparents led back to a glittering array of Plantagenet kings and foreign royals, and English aristocrats and Welsh dynasts. Going back even further, Margaret’s ancestry led me into the realm where reality merges with myth, to Arthur, Adam and Eve, and even to the goddess Aphrodite.