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.

Another fascinating story I've uncovered in my family history research is that I have a cousin who (fatefully) abandoned his post on Titanic in April 1912. 

Charles Blake is my first cousin four times removed, meaning he is four generations away from me in the family tree. He was born on 20 September 1869 to Aaron and Kate Blake, who lived in the New Forest area. He had eight siblings, and was the nephew of George Blake, the now (semi) famous folk singer of Emery Down. His family lived in and around Eling near Southampton, and he is mentioned in the Census records at the age of twelve, in 1881, as a schoolboy.

The next event we know in his life was the death of his father in 1891. Aaron would have been 66 years old, young for us today, but considered a good age back in the Victorian period. He was listed as a general labourer in the census of 1881, and would have had a very active working life. The type of work he carried out is not known, although many of his relatives were labourers in the area and worked around the forest at farms. In any case, Charles' father's death was probably unexpected to the family, who continued on with Kate at its head. 

In 1911 we find Charles living with his mother and older sister (also named Kate), in Rumbridge Street in Totton. His occupation was listed as a Fireman on a steamship, and he was 42 years old. He would have known Southampton Docks well, where ships pulled up for loading and unloading of cargo, and crew lined up to report for duty. A fireman's job on a steamship was a physical one, involving shovelling coal into the furnaces and fuelling both the engines and powering electrical equipment onboard. Coal could also combust in the heat of the engine room and fires had to be put out quickly to ensure the safety of the whole vessel. It was hard labour, and, down in the hot and sticky depths of the ship, would have been uncomfortable work, the men covered in soot and surrounded by the hot, smoky and dusty air. The smoky steam you see billowing out of ships' chimneys during the period came from the work carried out by guys like Charles. 

Royal Navy official photographer, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

On 6 April 1912 a Southampton clerk diligently scrawled a vertical mark, probably with an irritated pursed pout, next to Charles' name on the crew list for Titanic, the ground-breaking new ship launched by White Star Line in 1912. The luxurious new passenger ship was to take its maiden voyage from Southampton to New York in just four days, the city's hotels full of families and their luggage preparing to board. Considered one of grandest ships ever to set sail, it had chandeliers, dining rooms and a sweeping staircase connecting the floors. Crates contained plates and bowls decorated with a teal green and gold border and the dark red flag and gold banner of the White Star Line logo. These were carefully carried on board to the first class kitchens as passengers took in the sights of Southampton's ancient medieval walls and prepared for their journey. 

But Charles, who had secured a job as a Trimmer onboard Titanic, was nowhere to be seen. He was 42 years old, single and living with his mother and sister, not far from the docks. The records show that he 'failed to join', but do not give the reason why. Could he have been enjoying a few beers the night before reporting for duty and missed the calling time? Was he ill and unable to work? Or did he simply choose not to take up his position, perhaps feeling an unexplained knot in his stomach? 

A Trimmer was a different role than Charles was used to. Whereas he was used to shovelling coal into the furnaces of steam ships, the job he was to fulfil on Titanic was to assist the firemen, by moving the coals around the ship in wheelbarrows and putting out any fires that accidentally began there. It was still hard and heavy work. 

Whatever the reason, we can only imagine Charles and his mother's reaction when, on 15 April 1912 reports began to trickle in that Titanic had tragically sunk in the Atlantic Ocean, slashed through its hull by an immense iceberg. There were 73 coal trimmers onboard, and only around 20 survived its sinking. Their odds at survival were not great, being so deep in the ship's belly and their work needed to power the electrics during the rescue process and lifeboat launching. It has been estimated that around 1,500 people lost their lives in the tragedy of that night. Charles would almost certainly have learned of the sinking with a shudder and the 74-year-old Kate would have hugged him a little tighter. 

On 9 December 1914 Charles married Edith Rose Bolt at St Mary's Church in Eling. He outlived his mother Kate, who died in 1924, and his sister, who died in 1932. Charles and Edith were still married and living together in 1939, where he is listed on the Census of that year as a Retired Fireman on a ship, aged 70. In that year they lived in Southampton on Broadlands Road, close to the River Itchen. 

Liked this? You might also like: 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.

It's 1895 and a writer diligently records the legend of a 'phantom' at Tadley Place in Hampshire, belief in which is, he says, 'universal amongst the peasantry of the neighbourhood'. Villagers tell stories of the random and violent opening and shutting of doors and windows, 'unearthly' sounds and a group of phantom mourners at a spectral funeral at St Peter's Church, that quickly vanishes on sight. 

The source of all these unusual events was believed to have been the imposing figure in life of Sir Henry Ludlow, a man whose trace in the historical record only serves to underline the legend of his fearful and tempestuous character in death.

The Ludlows were prominent royal servants during the medieval period, and had acquired the village of Tadley through the marriage of William Ludlow and Jane More in the early sixteenth century. The estate, in which the considerable building of Tadley Place was the family's residence, passed through various heirs and ended up in the hands of Sir Henry Ludlow, born in 1577. 

As expected for a young heir to a wealthy and established family, Henry embarked on a formal education at the University of Oxford, graduating there at around the age of fourteen in October 1591. He had a large family of siblings and half-siblings. His father Edmund first married Bridget Coker and they had three sons (including Henry) and seven daughters. After his second marriage to Margaret Manning he fathered a further four sons, one of whom, Edmund, was killed during  the Siege of Corfe Castle during the English Civil War. Later, one of Henry's descendants would take the Parliamentarian side of the war against Charles I and the Royalists, voting for the execution of the king in 1649.

Frans Hals, Merrymakers at Shrovetide, 1616-1617, Metropolitan Museum of Art (no portrait of Sir Henry exists so this one of the period is added for context)

He was also associated with a flagrant display of disrespect, when he farted loudly in a display of arrogance during a meeting of Parliament. The episode inspired a comedic poem, The Fart Censured in the Parliament House, where in reaction to a speech made by Sir John Crook, 'Harry Ludlow's foysting Arse cry'd no'. The poem pokes fun at the event, detailing each MP's reaction in turn, but it ultimately showed a disregard for authority and his fellow council.

In December 1630 Henry was in trouble with the courts over a payment he had previously been ordered to settle. His son Edmund and Edmund's wife Elizabeth had petitioned the council in January of that year for Henry to pay an annuity to Henry's mother-in-law Dame Margaret Ludlow. The court, after consideration, believed that he should pay up. In November, Elizabeth and Edmund appealed to the Hampshire Assize, stating that Henry had still not paid, and that Edmund was now imprisoned as a result of the debt and Elizabeth 'is in much distress'. Despite Edmund languishing in prison, Henry chose not to acknowledge the council's order until 26 July 1632, when he sent £75 towards the outstanding debt of over £200, telling them that he had previously offered Edmund £25 but the couple had refused it, saying they didn't want the money 'unless they have all'. Henry pointedly told the commissioners that 'if they had followed his directions', they could have 'compounded most of the debts for which he is prisoner'.

On 14 November 1634 he was under scrutiny again, this time for 'misdemeanours and oppression', charges brought against him by Tadley residents. They accused Henry of withholding wages, causing them to incur further costs travelling to London to seek help from the council. When anyone approached Henry, they were met with 'reviling and threatening words', along with taunts that he would employ people to lie against them in court. This wasn't Henry's only brush with perjury, the residents pointing out helpfully that he had already been fined £500 for 'subornation of perjury' in 1606 during the reign of James I. He also pulled down, presumably without permission, 'ten or twelve houses in Tadley and Pamber', including one named Church House, the rents for which were used to keep the twelfth century Norman church in good repair. The following day, the case was heard in the Star Chamber at Westminster, and Henry was ordered to pay the residents their debts, plus their travel expenses, although some of their more 'doubtful' claims remained pending until 'further proof' was provided. 

I can find no trace of these payments being fully settled, but in any case, Elizabeth Merryweather was still not satisfied seven months later. She petitioned the council on behalf of money owed to her now dead husband Stephen on 7 June 1635. The council ordered Henry to appear on 25 June for a hearing and to settle the dispute. However, Henry wrote to say that he had urgent business to attend to in Wiltshire, because his clerk there, Luke Simpson, was near death and he had to reach him in time to settle his own affairs before he died. The clerk of the court, Thomas Willis, suspected this was a lie, although Simpson had actually written to Henry telling him that he was very ill and didn't expect to live. In any case, Henry's reputation preceded him, and his actions were called publicly into doubt, to the horror of both Henry and Simpson, who wrote to the council to soothe doubts over his reputation. Simpson, who had now recovered, gave his own version of events, but the matter was still unresolved in February 1636. In 1639 Henry wrote to Thomas Willis, telling him that he was still refusing to pay Elizabeth's money, and that 'if I owed these people anything they should not need to trouble anybody to seek after their own, but the opinion that they have that they may obtain anything they demand of me has put them on to attempt this by the assistance of one Diggs, who is a stranger to me'. Painting himself as the victim of a conspiracy to extract money out of 'greedy' villagers didn't work, and the council, once again, ordered him to pay up. However before Henry could settle any of his outstanding legal or financial business (or continue to dodge demands) he died, just a few months later. His son Edmund inherited his estates at Tadley and conveyed them in 1641 to a member of the well-known Reading-based family, Joseph Blagrave.

Henry Ludlow's trace in the sources shows that he was a hostile land owner and resident, safe in his luxurious mansion while villagers petitioned for debts owed to them. He had no regard for authority, was stubborn to the end and many would have dreaded having to deal with him. However he is one of the often-forgotten characters of the Elizabethan and Stuart periods, and his story shows how self-importance and hostility could affect others. He impacted residents that depended on income for their livelihood and to feed their families, and forever changed the landscape of Tadley by demolishing buildings which were never rebuilt, close to the ancient St Peter's Church. Even worse, modern historians believe that these buildings may have been traces of the old medieval settlement that initially sprang up around the church, now lost forever, the site today documented as a Deserted Medieval Village. 

Liked this? You might also like 7 Historic Events That Happened in Hampton Court and Elizabeth Dormer, the Tragic Countess of Carnarvon.

The era that Henry and the residents of Tadley lived through was one of immense change, and I explore the period in my third 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. 

 Sources: 

The Victoria History of the Counties of England, edited by William Page, F.S.A. A History of Hampshire and the Isle of Wight, Volume 4. 1900, p220.

Transactions of the Newbury District Field Club, edited by Walter Money, F.S.A. Volume 4. Northbrook Street, Newbury 1895. 

The Muses Recreation, Volume 1, John Camden, 1874. 

My quest for discovering the lives of forgotten medieval women continues. This week, I discovered in an old printed source the story of Margaret Mallefaunt of 1439. 

Margaret lived in Wales during the early reign of Henry VI, who had inherited the throne aged just nine months old when his father Henry V died unexpectedly overseas on a military campaign. We might think of lawlessness during the Wars of the Roses which fractured into action in the 1450s. But as it turns out, there were already threats being posed to women earlier in the period. Margaret's case was debated in the parliament of that year where Henry's councillors listened to her petition.

Margaret, who was the wife of a soldier named Thome Mallefaunt, complained about 'Lewse Leyson alias Lewse Gethei late of Glamorgan in the Marches of Wales who was in the lyf of her husband most trusted of any man near to him'. Lewse offered to take Margaret to see her mother, Jane Astley, knowing of her husband's recent death but keeping it a secret from her. Margaret agreed, knowing he was one of her husband's best friends, and they set off from her home in Pembrokeshire. Soon after their journey began he handed Margaret 'a counterfeit letter declaring Griffith ap Nicholas and divers other enemies lay in wait for her'. Continuing the journey, they changed course and eventually came to a park called Park le Bruce in Gower. It was here that Margaret was ambushed. The Lord of Gower burst out of the park with a group of armed men, having conspired with Lewse himself to seize her. They 'came with swerdes drawen and made a great affray and assalt upon the said Margaret, and yer smoten herr upon hur arme, and yer beaten hur servantes etc. and had her forth ynte the Monteyns, yer kept her without mete or drink 'till she was nigh dede, seeing that she had wheye to drink att diverse places till the wendisday nexte after, at which day he brought her on Gilbert Turbevoyle's place with ynne ye Lordship of Glamorgan & hur ther kept a prisoner'. The account states that she was 'menaced' while imprisoned and coerced to marry Lewse. 

Mourning Woman, Netherlands c1480. Met Museum, Public Domain.

Sadly the kidnapping of wealthy widows did happen during the medieval period, and Margaret was not the only one. Margery de la Beche of Beaumys Castle in Berkshire was forced to marry a man against her will in 1347 having been widowed twice. Early in the sixteenth century Muriella Calder of Cawdor Castle in Scotland was also kidnapped in an offender's attempt to marry her into his family. Medieval and Tudor law stated that the wealth of a couple rested legally in the husband's hands. It was entirely possible for a wealthy woman to marry a man and the husband sell her lucrative estates. We can only imagine Margaret's disbelief when she realised she had been seized by her husband's loyal friend who would have been known well to the couple. 

The petition also states that Gilbert Turbevoyle's wife was also involved in the conspiracy, helping Lewse to achieve the immoral marriage. It mentions that 'complaint is made of the working and assent of the said Gilbert and his wife, and with the governance of one Sir Hough, Vicar of the church of Twygeston in Wales with many more, brought and led the said Margaret to the said Church of Twygeston, and there would have make her against her will to take the said Lewse to husband the which she ever refused'.

With the now-widowed Margaret reeling from shock, treachery and fear, her refusal to co-operate only escalated the situation. She was imprisoned at Gilbert's home in Twygeston 'in to a chamber within a strong Towr'. There, she was 'ravished' by Lewse 'against her will', probably in a last-ditch attempt to try to argue that their union had been consummated. Then, 'she with wise governance' was brought from there and taken to her mother in London. It seems as if with this last statement someone discovered what had happened to Margaret and rescued her. After listening to the petition,  those present ordered Lewse to appear in Somerset, where the case was to be tried, to explain himself. 

Margaret's story is brutal and shocking but only goes to show how the early laws around marriage and property left room for the appalling and violent treatment of widows by greedy predators. It is even more heartbreaking that this was devised by a man who she and her husband had known and, for all she knew, was faithful and loyal to them both. I haven't been able to discover what happened to Margaret next, but she seems to have been taken to safety and her attackers held to account for their actions. Her story makes difficult reading for us today but it does reveal the dangers widowed women could be subject to in the medieval period. 

You might also like: Elizabeth Dunham, the Women Who Stole from the Bank of England and The Medieval and Tudor Brothels of Southwark. 

Interested in medieval women's history? Especially the forgotten ones of history? My first book explores the roles of women from all sectors of fifteenth century society and the impact they had on the Wars of the Roses conflict. Order your copy here. 

My second book, Power Couples of the Tudor Era, published by Pen and Sword Books, explores the contributions sixteenth century couples made to their own times as well as how they influenced our own. Order your copy here. 

Source: Archaeologica Cambrensis, 1846 via archive.org