Leo Tolstoy’s wife helped him write “War and Peace.”

  • Illustration of Tolstoy
Illustration of Tolstoy
Photo credit: ilbusca/ Getty Images
Author Michael Nordine
June 2, 2023

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As the saying goes, “behind every great man is a great woman,” and that apparently includes renowned Russian novelists. To wit: Leo Tolstoy’s wife, Sofya Tolstoy, helped him write War and Peace, one of the most influential works of literature in history. (That it isn’t universally considered Tolstoy’s magnum opus is a testament to his prowess, as Anna Karenina is equally revered.) The couple married in 1862, when Leo was 34 and Sofya was 18, and began their informal collaboration on Tolstoy’s sprawling tome the following year. In addition to sitting with him as he wrote, Sofya was also the first set of eyes on the manuscript and suggested changes along the way — including the removal of a graphic scene that took place during one of the main characters’ wedding nights.

As the first typewriter had yet to be invented at the time, Tolstoy naturally wrote the book by hand — not that his penmanship was particularly easy to read. Perhaps the most important project Sofya undertook, according to biographer Rosamund Bartlett’s Tolstoy: A Russian Life, was taking her husband’s “execrable handwriting, and then preparing a legible final draft of the manuscript,” an undertaking described as “a gargantuan task.” She sometimes had to use a magnifying glass to decipher the author’s chicken scratch and rewrote the entire manuscript eight times. Leo and Sofya’s far-from-perfect relationship is dramatized in 2009’s The Last Station, starring Christopher Plummer and Helen Mirren, both of whom received Academy Award nominations for their performances.

The Welsh are said to have worn leeks on their heads in battle.

  • Freshly lifted leeks
Freshly lifted leeks
Credit: Graham Corney/ Shutterstock
Author Sarah Anne Lloyd
April 8, 2024

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St. David is the patron saint of Wales, and his feast day, celebrated on March 1, is a major national celebration full of parades and eisteddfodau (a Welsh cultural festival of poetry and music). Each year, revelers pin leeks to their lapels, as the leafy vegetable has long been a national emblem of Wales. But how did the Welsh become associated with a type of onion, of all things? According to one prevailing theory, the connection began back in the seventh century, when David, then a Celtic monk, ordered soldiers to wear leeks on their heads in battle. 

As the popular story goes, David instructed soldiers to pull leeks from the ground and affix them to their helmets during a battle against Saxon invaders, so that other Welsh soldiers could easily differentiate their comrades from their enemies. (Another version of the story says the order was given by Cadwalader, king of the Welsh kingdom of Gwynedd.) However, some historians suggest the tale is just a myth, and one that got an extra boost when the Welsh scored a major military victory in a leek field at the Battle of Crécy during the Hundred Years’ War. In any case, leeks became a point of national pride for the Welsh. William Shakespeare even referenced the connection several times in his play Henry V, most notably when Pistol, an Englishman, makes a disparaging remark about the vegetable. The Welsh Captain Fluellen, wearing a leek in his cap, insists that Pistol eat one in retaliation. He retorts, “If you can mock a leek, you can eat a leek.”

On April 18, 1930, the BBC announced, “There is no news.”

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BBC radio microphone
BBC radio microphone
Author Bennett Kleinman
July 17, 2023

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With today’s 24-hour news cycle, it feels like notable events are happening every second. But on April 18, 1930, nothing newsworthy occurred — at least according to the British Broadcasting Corporation. At the start of its regular news broadcast at 8:45 p.m., the BBC announced, “Good evening. Today is Good Friday. There is no news.” This unexpected declaration was followed by 15 minutes of piano music, before the radio station resumed its broadcast of Wagner’s opera Parsifal. Though curious listeners were likely dumbfounded by this bold assertion, there were no other national networks to contest the BBC’s claim. That’s because the BBC held a nationwide monopoly on delivering news on television until 1954, and on the radio until 1972.

In reality, April 18, 1930, was quite the notable news day, as nationalist rebels conducted a raid on British forces in India, which was then part of the British Empire. But communication lines were cut during the attack, making it impossible for the BBC to be aware of the news. Under the impression there were no major headlines that day, the network felt no need to lower its broadcast standards solely to fill time. The BBC decried sensationalist news reporting, and shied away from covering local automobile accidents and fires in favor of big-picture affairs that had global repercussions. In the end, the small news department — which consisted of just two editors and two sub-editors at the time — determined that April 18 simply had no events worth commenting on.

A woman was elected to Congress before women had the right to vote.

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Women's suffrage protest
Photo credit: Everett Collection/ Shutterstock
Author Darren Orf
May 31, 2023

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On August 26, 1920, U.S. Secretary of State Bainbridge Colby certified the 19th Amendment, finally granting American women the vote after a hard-fought battle dating back to the nation’s very founding. However, perplexingly, the U.S. Capitol had already played host to its first congresswoman a few years prior: Representative Jeannette Rankin of Montana. 

Like many other American liberties, women’s suffrage was slowly granted state by state before becoming a national right protected by the Constitution. Montana granted women the unrestricted right to vote in 1914. Two years later, 36-year-old Rankin, a vocal suffragist, ran for one of the state’s two House seats and won. 

The election of Rankin, the first woman ever elected to the federal government, was a bright spot in American history made dimmer by her misogynistic welcome to Washington. Rankin didn’t take her rightful seat in the chamber until April 2, 1917, due to a month-long debate about whether it was appropriate for a woman to be a U.S. representative (even though Montanans had clearly already decided the matter). The country still has a long way to go to achieve gender parity in the nation’s legislative branch, but 28% of the members in the current 118th Congress are women — the largest percentage in U.S. history. 

Attila the Hun’s Bizarre Death

  • Attila the Hun in battle
Attila the Hun in battle
Photo credit: Christine_Kohler/ iStock
Author Michael Nordine
June 9, 2023

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Almost everything about Attila the Hun’s life was remarkable, including his death. Though some details of the story remain unknowable — this was the year 453 CE, after all — we do know that the leader of the Hunnic Empire married a beautiful young woman named Ildico just as he was preparing his latest attack on the Eastern Roman Empire, then ruled by Marcian. The celebration lasted all night, with Attila leading the way by drinking and feasting to his heart’s content. But his guards became nervous when he didn’t wake at the normal time the following morning. Breaking down the door to the bridal chamber, they found their leader dead and his new wife sobbing at his side.

Attila had no visible wounds; according to an account from Byzantine historian Priscus (a diplomat who had dined with Attila), the Hunnic leader had choked to death on his own blood after suffering a drunken nosebleed. Though some later theories suspected Ildico of foul play, and others thought Marcian was somehow behind it, no proof has ever emerged for either theory. Attila is far from the only world leader to depart this mortal coil under strange circumstances, of course. King Adolf Frederick of Sweden ate himself to death after consuming everything from lobster and caviar to champagne and a sweet roll called “semla.” Greece’s King Alexander I, meanwhile, was done in by an infected monkey bite, and Greek philosopher Chrysippus is thought to have died of laughter after seeing a donkey eat his figs.

A brown bear became an army corporal during WWII.

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Wojtek the bear
David Kilpatrick/ Alamy Stock Photo
Author Rachel Gresh
December 19, 2023

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Standing in the shadow of Scotland’s Edinburgh Castle is a statue of a man and a bear. The placard next to them reveals they are Polish soldiers and World War II heroes — yes, even the bear. Named “Wojtek,” the Syrian brown bear spent years in the Polish army before his journey ended in Edinburgh, where his statue’s nose now gleams gold from friendly pats. But that journey began thousands of miles away in Iran, in 1942.

Wojtek arrived at the 22nd Artillery Supply Company of the Polish II Corps by happenstance, when a young Iranian shepard traded the orphaned bear for a Swiss army knife, some chocolate, and canned beef. The Polish soldiers received a tiny cub in a burlap sack, who was placed under the care of a soldier named Peter Prendys. To everyone’s delight, the animal quickly assimilated, and in 1944 he became Private Wojtek, meaning “joyful warrior” in Polish. He was fed double rations, often washing it down with a beer. 

Wojtek’s antics provided much-needed entertainment, but he was more than just a pet. The bear proved his worth on the battlefield when his company was reassigned to Italy. Eyewitness reports from May 1944, during the Battle of Monte Cassino, purport that Wojtek bravely carried artillery shells and ammo crates across the battlefield. After the battle, the company changed its insignia to a bear holding an artillery shell, and Wojtek was promoted to corporal. When the war ended, Wojtek said goodbye to his compeers and retired to the Edinburgh Zoo, where he lived from 1947 until his death in 1963, and where a statue now honors his extraordinary life of adventure and achievement.

There’s an old Irish festival that crowns a goat king each year.

  • Goat at Puck Fair
Goat at Puck Fair
Credit: Trinity Mirror/ Mirrorpix / Alamy Stock Photo
Author Michael Nordine
March 26, 2024

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Plenty of small towns have animal mayors, but what about animal monarchs? Killorglin, Ireland, has one: a goat king it crowns in a festival every year. The Puck Fair has been held since at least the 1600s, and many believe it’s considerably older. It’s thought to have originated with the legend of a goat alerting the townsfolk of English raiders led by Oliver Cromwell one fateful day, thereby giving the noble residents of Killorgin enough time to fortify their defenses and save their home from the encroaching Englishmen. (Others believe it’s merely related to pagan symbols and rituals, a rather less fanciful theory.)

The festival is held from August 10 to 12 each year and attracts visitors from near and far hoping to take part in the royal caprine festivities. On day one, known as “the Gathering,” a wild male goat found in the nearby wilderness is crowned for the duration of the festivities by Queen Puck, a young girl from the town. Fair Day follows on day two, with a cattle fair held while King Puck observes from his regal scaffold. It comes to an end, as all good things must, with “the Scattering” on day three, when King Puck is returned to the wilderness and presumably tells his fellow goats the strangest story they’ve ever heard.

Andrew Jackson’s parrot was kicked out of his funeral for swearing.

  • Andrew Jackson
Andrew Jackson
Photo credit: Library of Congress/ Unsplash
Author Michael Nordine
June 9, 2023

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Before cats and dogs became the go-to, a number of U.S. Presidents had unusual pets. Thomas Jefferson had bear cubs, Calvin Coolidge kept a raccoon in the White House, and Theodore Roosevelt counted guinea pigs, a bear, and a hyena among his dozens of animals. That makes the fact that Andrew Jackson had an African grey parrot named Poll less odd, but what is strange is that the bird was kicked out of Jackson’s funeral for swearing. This knowledge comes to us courtesy of Samuel G. Heiskell’s book Andrew Jackson and Early Tennessee History, which quotes Reverend William Menefee Norment as observing: “Before the sermon and while the crowd was gathering, a wicked parrot that was a household pet got excited and commenced swearing so loud and long as to disturb the people and had to be carried from the house.”

Sadly, the good reverend didn’t detail the specifics of Poll’s outburst beyond saying that it was “excited by the multitude and… let loose perfect gusts of ‘cuss words,’” causing some to be “horrified and awed at the bird’s lack of reverence.” What became of Poll following the funeral is unknown, but it isn’t uncommon for African greys to outlive their owners — they’ve been known to live up to 60 years in captivity.

Victorian-era women ate arsenic as a beauty treatment.

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Arsenic on periodic table
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Author Sarah Anne Lloyd
March 27, 2024

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In the United States and Europe, a ghostly pallor was the height of fashion among Victorian-era women. Pale skin signaled high class, both because it meant that you never had to work in the sun and because wasting away from consumption, what we now know as tuberculosis, had become associated with beauty in certain affluent circles. In the late 18th century, wealthy women started romanticizing the extreme thinness, near-translucent skin, and rosy cheeks of those who suffered from the disease, an attitude that came to a peak in the mid-19th century. Tuberculosis, while devastating, brought out features that some already considered attractive, and beautiful women were, falsely, even thought to have been particularly vulnerable to the illness. Women chasing the fashion wore tight corsets and full skirts to show off their tiny waists and made their faces as pale as possible. And if they didn’t already have a ghostly complexion, they could get the look in other ways — such as through long-term arsenic exposure.

In 1851, a Swiss physician published a report in a medical journal about the “toxicophagi,” a group of people in modern-day Austria who routinely consumed arsenic; they knew it was poison, but thought they could develop an immunity to it by starting with small doses and gradually increasing the intake. The report’s author claimed that arsenic gave them great energy, sparkling eyes, and wonderful complexions, but noted that after long-term use, unsurprisingly, “most arsenic eaters end with an inevitable infirmity of the body.”

After the article was published, beauty writers told stories of women in Bohemia (modern-day Czechia) who bathed in “arsenic springs” as skin care. It became a popular treatment for women chasing a naturally wan look — as opposed to the “painted ladies” of the day, who used heavy makeup to appear pale. Arsenic-based “complexion wafers” started hitting store shelves; Dr. James P. Campbell’s Safe Arsenic Complexion Wafers promised relief from blemishes and “a deliciously clear complexion,” and were sold well into the 20th century. These wafers reportedly had a very low dose of the toxin, but because there is no such thing as “safe” arsenic, the wafers were still fatal for some consumers. Legitimate doctors warned against their use, and at least one physician in San Francisco worried that arsenic poisoning was going undiagnosed because women neglected to tell their doctors they were taking it. 

Limping was a fad in Victorian England.

  • Queen Alexandra
Queen Alexandra
Credit: Alpha Stock/ Alamy Stock Photo
Author Sarah Anne Lloyd
March 13, 2024

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In Victorian-era Britain, few fashion icons were as influential as Alexandra of Denmark, aka Alexandra, Princess of Wales, who became Queen Alexandra in 1901 when her husband took the throne after the death of Queen Victoria. Alexandra married Prince Albert, later King Edward VII, in 1863, joining the royal family just as photography rose to prominence, and her style spread through Britain like wildfire. When she started wearing broad, elaborate, choker-style necklaces — supposedly to cover up a scar on her neck from childhood — they caught on, and stayed in fashion for the next several decades.

After the birth of her third child in 1867, the princess developed a severe case of rheumatic fever that left her with a stiff knee and a pronounced limp, and she sometimes used mobility aids such as walking sticks to get around. It was far from a style choice, but high-society ladies were so eager to imitate her that they even adopted her gait in a trend known as the “Alexandra limp.” At first, Alexandra’s able-bodied imitators wore mismatched shoes to get the walk, but eventually retailers took notice. Shops started stocking pairs of shoes with two different heel heights to capitalize on the limping craze. Sometimes a walking stick completed the look. Even at the time, the trend was considered in poor taste. “There must be a line at which even fashionable folly may be expected to stop short… at the caricaturing of human infirmity,” read a column published in the Scottish newspaper Courier and Argus. Ultimately, the Alexandra limp didn’t have the same longevity as thick chokers, and the trend passed quickly.