I'm back from an amazing event in London celebrating the Wolf Hall trilogy of novels written by Hilary Mantel. This year's gathering, held at All Hallows by the Tower, was the second Wolf Hall Weekend - the first was held in Devon and boasted a variety of high-profile speakers and history enthusiasts. 

The 5am start and swaying in an almost-empty tube carriage along the tracks with other bleary-eyed tube commuters was all worth it when I walked out of Tower Bridge station and saw the iconic walls of the historic fortress. Nodding to Emperor Trajan as I walked down the steps, it was a short walk from there to All Hallows, an ancient church that Thomas Cromwell would have known. 

Day one started off with an introduction by the group's organiser, the lovely David Holland. We were then treated to a talk by Tracy Borman, who told the story of Thomas Cromwell alongside the rise of Anne Boleyn.  Both self-starters, they were aligned when Henry VIII chose to make Anne his queen, with Cromwell figuring out how the king could annul his existing marriage to Katherine of Aragon. Their interests became more divided however, during the religious reformation and the Dissolution of the Monasteries. It was said that Anne wanted the revenue to go towards the community and the poor rather than purely enriching the Crown. Tracy then stayed behind to sign copies of her book, House of Boleyn. 

Next, we stopped for lunch, provided by the light and airy Byward Kitchen and Bar right next door to the church. The food was lovely, and I'd recommend it if you're visiting. They looked after us well over the busy weekend. The lunch was a great opportunity to chat with fellow history fans, and I met some great people who I hope will stay in touch. I found everyone really friendly, sharing the same passion of photographing effigies and old doorways! We were also treated during lunch to a private tour of the church's ancient crypt, and were shown Roman mosaic flooring, a Saxon cross and a tantalising link to the legendary Knights Templar. What a place! 

Day two began at around 11am, when we met outside the church again for a guided walk around some of  the Thomas Cromwell-related sights of London. We visited the site of his old home, Austin Friars, and saw the place he was executed, a brutal site in a now deceptively pretty public garden. There were medieval walls, churches and streets and the walk was led by Matt Brown of The Londonist, Elizabeth Norton and Dr Miranda Mallins, who all provided their insight and knowledge. We went back to the Byward Kitchen for an Afternoon Tea and were then treated to a talk about Kat Ashley by Rosemary Griggs. She was with her husband who performed some Tudor singing, both dressed in contemporary Elizabethan costume, which Rosemary makes herself. Rosemary has also just published a book on Kat called Queen Elizabeth's Governess. Matt Brown then spoke about the creation of his brilliant literary-inspired London maps and David Holland concluded the event with thanks and a teaser about what might occur at a future event. 

What I loved about Wolf Hall Weekend was that the event was a gathering of historians, history fans and readers of literature and we all got together through our shared interest. It was full of history of course, but I learned a lot too about Hilary Mantel and her writing. I can now appreciate so much more about the story and of course her depiction of Thomas Cromwell. 

You might also like Interview with David Holland, Founder of Wolf Hall Weekend, Hilary Mantel's Wolf Hall Novels and 'Serious' History and Jane Seymour's Jewels and What She Did With Them.

Interested in Tudor history? You might also like my second book, Power Couples of the Tudor Era, published by Pen and Sword Books, which explores the contributions couples made to their own times as well as how they influenced our own. Edward and Anne Seymour, Henry and Gertrude Courtenay and Margaret Douglas and Lord Thomas Howard are all featured in depth. 

Order your copy here. 

The Tudors are famous for creative expression, art and the theatre during their reigns. But the English Renaissance started a lot earlier than 1485. Find out more in my book Power Couples of the Renaissance. It features relationship dynamics that went against accepted norms of the period and power-hungry couples who ruled, fought and spread the patronage of art, science and culture across the globe during one of the most tumultuous periods of history. Find it on the Pen and Sword Books website. 

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The name Margaret Nicholson might not be a household one today, but in 1786 she was the talk of London. 

On 2 August of that year, George III arrived at St James' Palace in London from the royal residence at Windsor. Stepping out of his carriage, a woman who had been waiting in the crowds for the king to arrive walked forward and handed a petition to him. George took it from her hand, but underneath the piece of paper Margaret had concealed a knife. She lunged it at the king's heart, but it only penetrated his waistcoat. Guards and footmen close to the king saw what happened and seized Margaret by the arm. George, believing she was mentally ill, asked his attendants not to cause any harm to her, saying 'I have received no injury, don't hurt the woman, the poor creature appears insane'. Margaret was led away for questioning. 

When Margaret's petition was examined, it was found that it was blank, except for the addressee written on the outside, being the king, as expected. She stood in front of officials wearing a flowered gown, black gauze bonnet, black silk cloak and a wire cap with blue ribbons. She had a 'moderate stature' and 'serious countenance', refusing to answer any questions. At 5pm she was taken before the council and was subject to a strip search, presumably in case she was hiding any other weapons. Women of the palace searched her, but no other weapon was found. The knife she had attacked the king with was actually found to have been a thin, blunt and low-quality dessert knife. 

Now questioned by the king's council, Margaret began to tell her story. Her name was Margaret Nicholson, the daughter of George Nicholson of Stockton upon Tees in Yorkshire. She had a brother who kept a public house in Milford Lane and had arrived in London at the age of twelve, working as a maid for a number of different families. 

Yale Center for British Art, Public Domain.

Margaret muttered oaths about 'this matter of the Crown', saying that she wanted her right and property and that the crown was her right. A petition was found that she had handed to the palace ten days before, but it was not escalated as it was said to contain 'such stuff and nonsense'. Margaret insisted that if she did not receive what was due to her 'England would be in blood for a thousand generations'. Unable to complete questioning, Margaret was taken to the home of a court messenger named Mr Coates who kept her safe until she could attend on the council again. Coates lived on Half-Moon Street in Piccadilly, London.

Further interviews revealed that Margaret believed King George had no right to the throne and that it was actually hers. She also said that the Lord Mansfield and Lord Loughborough owed everything they had to her. Mr Justice Addington continued to question her about the attack on the king, Margaret replying that she never intended to hurt the king but acted out of necessity having handed in 17 petitions for him to read, but none had been replied to. She simply stated that in one of her petitions she did threaten to kill the king if he didn't make 'some provision for me without delay'. The source of her frustration appears to have been a personal legal issue, where she had been left an annuity after the death of her partner, an officer of the king's guards. However the money had been retained by her solicitor, hence the large quantity of petitions asking for the king to assist. 

Margaret's frustration seems understandable, as she asked for the king to intervene to help settle her dispute but received no answer. However she clearly crossed the line when she threatened violence. Perhaps in jabbing at the king with a flexible and blunt dessert knife she believed he would give her  attention so she could talk matters through with him. However, this was a gross miscalculation, as were claims that she had a right to the throne. Those presiding over her case did not see her frustration and ruled that she was insane. She was taken by the messenger Mr Coates, from his house, to Bedlam by carriage. Arriving at around 6pm, she was given dinner and taken to a cell that had been fitted out with fresh bedding. She was then chained by her leg to a loop on the floor so that she could not attempt escape. The account that survives states that she went willingly, and was put to work at Bedlam for her keep. 

You might also like: The Women of Bedlam and LGBTQ Georgian Britain: Mary East.

Source: A Plot Investigated, or a Circumstantial Account of the Late Horrid Attempt of Margaret Nicholson to Assassinate the King. London, 1786. via archive.org.

Image credit: Robert Dighton, 1752–1814, Margaret Nicholson Attempting to Assassinate His Majesty, George III, at the Garden Entrance of St. James's Palace, 2nd August 1786, 1786, Watercolor, pen and black ink, graphite, and gouache on medium, slightly textured, cream laid paper, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection, B1986.29.373.

We think we know all about the Medicis, the family that governed and ruled as queens, Popes and dukes during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. But do you know Cosimo de Medici and his wife, Contessina de Bardi? They were the fifteenth-century duo that sparked the family's famous rise into politics and as patrons of the arts. And they had ties to England, too. 

Cosimo and Contessina were born in the late fourteenth century into wealthy banking families of Italy. Cosimo's father was a well-known figure in local government in Florence and a wealthy merchant, passing his knowledge and business to Cosimo on his death. Contessina was also from a banking family, the Bardis. They were well-known for lending money to the English kings, in particular to Edward III, helping to bankroll his many wars and military expeditions. Tight of cash, Edward began to default on his huge loans to the Bardis, and the family bank collapsed. To save the business, and combine the forces of these influential Florentine families, a wedding was agreed between Cosimo de Medici and Contessina de Bardi. 

Depiction of Contessina de Bardi, National Gallery of Art, Public Domain

There is plenty of evidence that both newlyweds had been brought up with knowledge of banking and the family businesses. The match was discussed in England and was of obvious interest to merchants and others in trade and commerce. The couple, with Cosimo as its business leader, soon established a financial support system across Europe. But Contessina pushed the wealth forwards. She urged her children to become involved in the business from a young age, perhaps mirroring her own childhood experiences, and maintained relationships with other Florentine families, retaining allies and beneficial friendships. As her sons grew up, she also ensured their wives were happy and organised family gatherings at their villa or town house. Many of Contessina's letters survive, providing us with a real glimpse of this important matriarch.

Cosimo de Medici, Rijksmuseum, Public Domain

The Medicis grew incredibly wealthy through their ties with merchants, including the trade in wool which was sent from England to Calais and on to other parts of the continent. The industry was so crucial that it almost started a diplomatic crisis in 1489 when shipments of English wool were stopped from entering Milan. Pragmatic and proactive, Cosimo and Contessina also recognised the importance of public image and contributing wealth back into the state, and were patrons of key Renaissance artists such as Donatello. Cosimo knew Brunelleschi personally, and was in office while the famous dome of the cathedral was created. He also paid for a library of ancient texts to be built and translated, so that they could be read and learned from, and it is through his work that English courtiers like John Tiptoft Earl of Worcester, during the reign of Edward IV, gained learning while in Florence. Tiptoft later brought back cultural and legal ideas from his time in Italy, which was ultimately supported by the work of Cosimo and Contessina Medici. 

Without them, there would be no Catherine de Medici, Pope Leo X or Lorenzo de Medici. Their descendants continued their work as popes, queens, kings and princes of Renaissance Europe. Often forgotten, but crucial to the creation of later Renaissance Europe, we must remember Cosimo and Contessina for their contribution to history.

Find out more about this Medici couple in my book Power Couples of the Renaissance. It features relationship dynamics that went against accepted norms of the period and power-hungry couples who ruled, fought and spread the patronage of art, science and culture across the globe during one of the most tumultuous periods of history. Find it on the Pen and Sword Books website. 

When I was sixteen, I walked past the pub in Brockenhurst village every day to go to my sixth form college there. My art teachers even sent us all down to sketch the church of St Nicholas, in the leafy churchyard, for a special project there one afternoon. Imagine my shock then, thirty years later, when I find out that Brockenhurst, and particularly the pub and the church, played a big role in the life and death of one of my ancestors, Henry 'Brusher' Mills. 

Henry was born on 19 March 1840 to Thomas and Ann Mills, who lived in the Lyndhurst area of the New Forest. He had a large family of siblings, including Maria Mills, who married my third-great-granduncle George Blake. George and Henry were therefore brothers in law, and both eccentric and well-known characters of the forest. Through his early years Henry worked as a general labourer, like most of the men in my family from that time, but later, he gained a reputation through his work as a snake catcher. 

Leighton, Gerald R., Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

According to Mike Walford, in the 1979 book Pollards, People and Ponies, Henry had a 'mahogany' skin tone, and photographs show that he had a bushy long beard and wore loose clothing. He stated his occupation in 1901 as a 'New Forest Snake Catcher', lifting them up with a long fork he carried and placing them in a tin he carried attached to a piece of string, which he slung over his shoulder. He'd show the snakes to anyone interested, sometimes taking them out in the pub or displaying them to curious tourists. He earned a shilling for each one he captured, usually adders, which were later taken to the zoo for food for the carnivorous snakes there. He always maintained that, despite people being worried about the snakes in the forest, they wouldn't come near you if you didn't bother them. It has also been asserted that he made ointments that were designed to soothe snake bites. 

Brusher, as he was known, gained a reputation for looking after animals from an early age. It was said that even in his youth working as a dairyman, he was able to assist when animals on the farms were sick, with one vet saying he knew as much as he did. A later account reported that he especially loved hedgehogs and disliked anyone that harmed them.

Henry lived a hermit's life in the forest, building himself a hut made out of wood, branches and moss and sleeping on a moss-stuffed mattress. The hut was said to have originally been an old charcoal burner's, near Queen's Bower, on the road between Lyndhurst and Brockenhurst. It is not known why he took to a life outdoors but some have suggested it was after a family argument, or the fact that he just enjoyed living outside, and simply. The nickname 'Brusher' is believed to have come from his earlier job brushing leaves off the local cricket pitch in Lyndhurst, although this is still uncertain. He owned very few belongings, including a pistol, pen-knife, watch and the clothes he wore and maintained that he never took anything from the land. If he found a bird, he would offer it to the locals. He kept a change of clothes in a nearby home in Lyndhurst, which he visited to enjoy a warm bath.

Eventually, he was evicted by the council from his woodland home, his den burned down by authorities. Another account, in The New Forest Beautiful of 1929, says that the home was destroyed because Henry had reached old age, and with 'the kindliest intent' that a life outside would not be appropriate, now in his sixties. The landlord of the Railway Tavern in Brockenhurst took him in and allowed him to live in an outbuilding at the pub. 

On 1 July 1905, he went inside the pub and enjoyed a plate of pickles and bread, along with a glass of beer although some reports say it was a tipple of rum. He said to the barman that he wasn't feeling too well, and disappeared outside while the barman carried out some work away from the bar. When he came back after 20 minutes, Henry was nowhere to be seen, so he went looking for him, worried about his earlier comment. He was found dead, inside his outhouse. Henry was later buried in St Nicholas' Church in the village, a headstone erected displaying his role as snake catcher. The pub where he died was also re-named The Snakecatcher in his honour and still stands today. 

The year after his death, he was mentioned in an article in The Sketch magazine, published on 13 June 1906. It stated that the adders of the New Forest 'must be rejoicing to think that Brusher Mills is no more. The old man had killed thousands of adders during the many years of his sojourn in the forest, and assured me more than once that adders really live in the forest under the protection of fairies, and that these 'wise folk,' as he sometimes called them, had given him the cleft palate from which he suffered all the days of his long life. He held that they had cleft his palate in order that he might not be able to explain to landowners or their gamekeepers that he was not really trespassing on their property, but was there in the interests of mankind.' 

The author remembered a meeting with Brusher, in the summer of 1904, just before he died. 'He was coming across a clearing in the forest by Brockenhurst, with two tin cans in one hand, a long stick in another, and two pairs of surgeon’s scissors tied to a string over his shoulder. He used these for picking up adders. Our chat was a brief one, for he said that snakes were stirring, and he had been delayed by an appeal from a neighbouring village to come and save the life of a cow that an adder had bitten'. 

Liked this? You might also like Charles Blake and Abandoning Titanic, Southampton's Lost Castle, The Southampton Conspiracy of 1415 and Tracking the Southampton Raid of 1338.

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From my own family history research, 2026.

Sources: 

F.E. Stevens, The New Forest Beautiful, Methuen and Co, London, 1929.

Mike Walford, Pollards, People and Ponies. Wiltshire, 1979. pages 73-77.