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Think you know everything about the history of Thanksgiving? Here’s 21 facts that will prove you wrong
From tales of pumpkin-pie panics to the story of the president who turned his dinner into a pet, Jonny Wilkes uncovers the surprising history behind Thanksgiving: America’s turkey-tastic holiday
There are only two accounts of the first Thanksgiving The story of the first Thanksgiving has been highly mythologised in American history. In 1621, the so-called Pilgrims who travelled on the Mayflower and formed the settlement of Plymouth, in Massachusetts, came together with the local indigenous peoples, the Wampanoag, for a feast to celebrate a good harvest and the growing friendship of settler and Native American in the New World. That is the version long told in schools. In truth, the Pilgrims threw themselves a harvest festival and around 90 of the Wampanoag showed up. Without their help, especially a man named Squanto, the European settlers would have likely perished in their brutal first winter. The only sources for the three-day feast are sparse mentions in writings by two of the Pilgrims, Edward Winslow and William Bradford. Neither actually used the word ‘thanksgiving’, however, and since they gave few details of what happened, the mythologising took over. They may not have eaten turkey at the first Thanksgiving For many Americans, no modern Thanksgiving meal is complete without a turkey as the centrepiece of the table. It’s unclear, however, whether this tradition began in 1621. The Pilgrims cooked up a selection of fowl – which may have included turkey, but could just as easily been duck and goose – while the Wampanoag killed a number of deer, meaning venison was on the menu. They might have had seafood, too, including eels, clams, mussels and lobster. Yes, William Bradford mentioned a “great store of wild Turkies” in the region, but the bird did not become a staple of the Thanksgiving meal until the 19th century. The first Thanksgiving may have happened earlier than 1621 While the 1621 feast became the foundation for the Thanksgiving holiday, perhaps Americans should celebrate a different year. Other acts of thanksgiving, based in the tradition of Christian harvest festivals, took place earlier in the short-lived Popham Colony in Maine and Jamestown in Virginia, both founded in 1607. Two years before the Pilgrims and Wampanoag, the Berkeley Hundred settlement, also in Virginia, held a celebration and decreed that the same day should be “perpetually kept holy as a day of thanksgiving to Almighty God”. The true first Thanksgiving, however, was not English, but Spanish. On 8 September 1565, in what is now St Augustine, Florida, hundreds of Spaniards held a religious ceremony and shared a meal with the local people to mark their safe arrival. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/11/3C5BDJ6-54ff763-e1764176698213.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="A painting depicts a large crowd of men kneeling on the ground, holding up spears. In front of them, a priest stands in cream and yellow robes and holds a cross" title="A painting depicts Spanish settlers arriving in what is now the city of St Augustine, Florida, in 1565. Their meal with the local indigenous population has been described as the first true Thanksgiving (Image by Alamy)" /> Americans eat around 46 million turkeys every year A major reason why turkey became the meat of choice for Thanksgiving is that the birds are both abundant and large (meaning a lot of meat), and it’s a good thing, too. There’s a reason the holiday is also referred to as Turkey Day. With apologies to the non-meat eaters out there, it is estimated that around 46 million birds are killed for the holiday every year in the US alone, according to the Department of Agriculture. That’s one turkey for every seven or eight Americans. The fastest time to carve a turkey is under four minutes Without wanting to dismay all the Americans who take immense pride in serving up the meal every Thanksgiving, the Guinness World Record for the fastest time to carve a turkey is currently held by a British person. The UK does eat its fair share of turkeys at Christmas, after all. In 2009, Paul Kelly, a turkey farmer in Essex, managed the feat in just three minutes and 19.47 seconds. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/11/4GettyImages-530209391-de2c182-e1764176657592.jpg" width="1500" height="1002" alt="An illustration of a colourful turkey. It has a red and blue spotted head, with yellow and dark orange feathers across it's front, and blue wings, with a red and black tail" title="A mid-19th century illustration of a turkey. An apocryphal quote attributed to Founding Father Alexander Hamilton states that no “citizen of the United States should refrain from turkey on Thanksgiving Day” (Image by Getty Images)" /> The author of Mary Had a Little Lamb is known as the ‘Mother of Thanksgiving’ Sarah Josepha Hale was a writer, the first American woman to be editor of a magazine and, in 1830, she published the nursery rhyme, Mary Had a Little Lamb (originally titled Mary's Lamb). One of her biggest passions, though, would always be Thanksgiving. Born in 1788 in New England, she grew up with the local celebrations and customs that took place every year, and wanted Thanksgiving to become a national holiday. For years, she embarked on this campaign, writing editorials for her magazine, Godey’s Lady’s Book, which had a peak circulation of 150,000, as well as countless letters to presidents asking for their help. Finally getting somewhere with Abraham Lincoln, she is now heralded as the ‘Mother of Thanksgiving’. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/11/6GettyImages-3245390-8ee41b9-e1764176761138.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="A black and white illustration of a woman sitting in a high backed chair. She is wearing a dark dress with a white lace collar and has ringlets in her hair" title="Sarah Josepha Hale is best known as the ‘Mother of Thanksgiving’ – and for writing a much-loved nursery rhyme (Image by Getty Images)" /> In 1705, a town postponed Thanksgiving because of pumpkin pie Until Sarah Josepha Hale’s campaign, it was up to each town and state to determine how to mark Thanksgiving, with most of the events taking place only in the US northeast. For the people of Colchester, Connecticut, the celebrations must include pumpkin pie. The dessert had become a symbol of the bounty of the New World. In 1705, however, they faced a problem: bad weather prevented supplies from reaching them, including the molasses that they needed to make their pies. Rather than have a Thanksgiving without them, the townsfolk elected to postpone the festivities for a week until the molasses could be delivered. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/11/7GettyImages-509616436-453ca45-e1764177624580.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="A photograph of a bright orange pumpkin pie with small dollops of cream on the top of each slice" title="Can you really have Thanksgiving without pumpkin pie? Well, one town in Connecticut decided to postpone their festivities when they were unable to source the correct ingredients in 1705 (Image by Getty Images)" /> Thomas Jefferson was opposed to Thanksgiving (sort of) In 1789, George Washington issued a presidential proclamation naming Thursday 26 November as a “day of public thanksgiving and prayer”. This did not make the holiday official, as each president had to issue their own proclamations every year. While John Adams followed Washington’s example, the third president, Thomas Jefferson, did not. He did not oppose families coming together for a nice meal – in fact, he encouraged it as governor of Virgina – but he felt that the religious significance of Thanksgiving meant the president could not endorse it. Otherwise, he would undermine the separation of church and state as established by the first amendment of the Constitution, which he had helped get written. Benjamin Franklin preferred turkey to bald eagles The bald eagle has been a national emblem since being chosen to adorn the Great Seal of the United States in 1782. However, the decision did not meet the approval of the great polymath and Founding Father, Benjamin Franklin. He thought the bald eagle had “bad moral character”, “generally poor”, “often very lousy” and a “rank coward”, as he wrote in a letter to his daughter. The turkey, on the other hand, was a “much more respectable bird and withal a true, original native of America,” in his opinion. Read more | Benjamin Franklin's greatest inventions Franklin was effusive in his praise, describing the turkey as “though a little vain & silly, a Bird of Courage, and would not hesitate to attack a Grenadier of the British Guards who should presume to invade his Farm Yard with a red Coat on.” The cornucopia has ancient origins A horn-shaped basket overflowing with the fruits of the harvest, the cornucopia is a symbol of abundance. As such, it has come to be associated with Thanksgiving and is a common feature of the decorations. The origins of the horn of plenty have nothing to do with the Pilgrims or Wampanoag in 1621, or with Sarah Josepha Hale and Lincoln: it goes back much further. According to ancient Greek mythology, the god Zeus was raised by Amalthea, either an enchanted goat or a water nymph with an enchanted goat. Either way, one day the baby deity broke off one of the horns and it began pouring forth fruits, seeds and nuts. To the Romans, however, Hercules created the horn by snapping it off a river god. Thanksgiving became a national holiday during the American Civil War Sarah Josepha Hale tried for years to get Thanksgiving recognised as a national holiday, but it was with the outbreak of the American Civil War in 1861 that the circumstances finally came together. In 1863, she wrote to President Abraham Lincoln arguing that Thanksgiving could heal the divided and hurting country, and he agreed. Less than a week later, he issued a proclamation declaring a holiday on the last Thursday of November – and so Thanksgiving has been celebrated ever since, with a few exceptions. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/11/11GettyImages-515449646-0a00406-e1764176933734.jpg" width="1501" height="1002" alt="a black and white photograph of a large group of soldiers standing around a tall man in a long coat and top hat. Behind them is a series of large tents" title="Abraham Lincoln meets Union troops near Sharpsburg, Maryland, in October 1862. A year later, the Civil War president issued a proclamation declaring Thanksgiving to be a national holiday (Image by Getty Images)" /> A small Pacific island has celebrated Thanksgiving since the 1800s Thanksgiving is not celebrated only in the US: Canada marks it in October, while festivities can be seen in countries around the world. A contender for the most unlikely place has to be Norfolk Island, a tiny Australian territory in the Pacific Ocean home to just over 2,000 people. Yes, Thanksgiving comes on a Wednesday, not Thursday, and there are a lot of local dishes alongside the pumpkin pie, but the holiday is firmly rooted in American traditions. It began in the 1800s when American sailors and whalers made regular stops there. One American, Isaac Robinson, settled on Norfolk Island and made a big deal of celebrating Thanksgiving. After he died, the islanders just kept it going. The inaugural Turkey Trot had only six runners Every year on or around Thanksgiving, around a million people put on their running shoes – and maybe a turkey costume – and take part in their local Turkey Trot, one of many races held all over the US. If nothing else, the run will help counter all the calories about to be consumed. The Turkey Trot began in Buffalo, New York, in 1896, on a much smaller scale. Just six runners started the five-mile course, with four finishing. One pulled out after two miles, while another had to stop when his “late breakfast refused to keep in its proper place”. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/11/13GettyImages-1444263993-f9f153a-e1764176982360.jpg" width="1500" height="1002" alt="A photograph of several people running along a road, each with a number pinned to their front. In the front of the image is a man running dressed as a turkey" title="Thousands of Americans attempt to offset their Thanksgiving calorie intake by taking part in a Turkey Trot – such as this annual event in Dana Point, California, photographed in 2022 (Image by Getty Images)" /> The first Macy’s Parade featured live animals, not balloons Another constant of Thanksgiving television is the Macy’s Parade. Best known today for the storeys-high balloons in the shapes of beloved characters, when the department store first planned a parade through the streets of New York in 1924, the main attraction was a bit livelier – literally. They borrowed animals from Central Park Zoo, including elephants, tigers, bears, camels and monkeys. Some 10,000 people attended the Macy’s Christmas Parade, so-called as it launched shopping season for Christmas, preferably at Macy’s at Herald Square, rather than celebrated Thanksgiving. Read more | The history of Christmas, plus 10 festive facts you might not know Snoopy has the most appearances in the Macy’s Parade The famous Macy’s Parade balloons made their debut in 1927, with the honour of the first character going to Felix the Cat. It is a dog, however, who has been flown through the streets of Manhattan on Thanksgiving more than any other. Since 1968, Snoopy, Charlie Brown’s loyal companion from the beloved Peanuts comics by Charles M Schulz, has clocked up more than 40 appearances with eight different balloons. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/11/152DB0047-3e97b86-e1764177046383.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="A photograph of a large balloon depicting Snoopy the dog. He is all white with black nose and ears, and has a yellow bird on his head" title="Snoopy has long been a fixture of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade, notching up more than 40 appearances. This particular incarnation of the beagle, photographed in 2013, featured his bird friend Woodstock perched on his head (Image by Alamy)" /> Calvin Coolidge was sent a raccoon for his Thanksgiving meal In 1926, President Calvin Coolidge received an unusual present from one of his supporters: a live raccoon, along with a note suggesting that it would make a delicious Thanksgiving meal. Rather than send the animal to the oven, though, Coolidge decided to keep it as a pet. Named Rebecca, she had free rein of the White House and its grounds, and at the end of his presidency Coolidge and his wife, Grace, sent the raccoon into retirement at a zoo in Washington, DC. Read more | 10 famous people in history and their bizarre pets <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/11/16FFWH1F-8ddae15-e1764177100383.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="A black and white photograph of a woman in a dress and large hat, holding a raccoon in her arms" title="President Calvin Coolidge’s wife, Grace, seen with the couple’s pet raccoon in 1927. The procyonid – which was given the name Rebecca – was originally intended to have been eaten as part of Thanksgiving dinner (Image by Alamy)" /> The Detroit Lions always play Thanksgiving football American football is as much a part of Thanksgiving as turkey, with millions tuning in to the blockbuster matches that afternoon. It’s a big day for the sport, but especially for fans of the Detroit Lions since they play every year. This custom goes back to 1934. When radio executive George Richards bought an Ohio-based team and moved them to Detroit, Michigan, he had the idea to drum up excitement by putting on a game on Thanksgiving, when everyone was off work. It was inspired: the game between the Lions and the champion Chicago Bears sold out, and became an instant annual tradition. In 1966, the Dallas Cowboys got in on the act and now they have their own game too. There were two Thanksgivings in 1939, 1940 and 1941 President Franklin D Roosevelt made a bold decision in 1939 to go against precedent and move Thanksgiving up a week. The issue was that the traditional date for the holiday fell on the last day of November that year, leading retailers to warn FDR about the economic damage a late Thanksgiving would have on Christmas shopping. Not everyone was happy with the date change, dubbed ‘Franksgiving’, with Time magazine even comparing FDR to Adolf Hitler. With many states ignoring it and celebrating on the usual day, the US had two Thanksgivings. Read more | “We analysed Hitler’s DNA – and what we discovered made us gasp” Despite the criticism, the president doubled down and did the same thing the following year. Congress got involved in late 1941, passing a resolution to set the date for Thanksgiving once and for all – but not before that year's festivities had already been impacted too. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/11/18GettyImages-535083952-ee1697d-e1764177144853.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="A black and white photograph of a smiling couple sitting next to each other at a dining table. The man is carving a turkey while the woman looks on" title="Franklin D Roosevelt carves a turkey during his first Thanksgiving as president, 1933. Six years later, his decision to move the date of the holiday would spark national controversy (Image by Getty Images)" /> The day after Thanksgiving is the busiest day of the year for plumbers Perhaps this should not be all that surprising: with large groups gathering under a single roof to eat a huge meal, clogging up the kitchen drainage and – ahem – bathroom pipes, the pressure on America’s plumbing peaks at Thanksgiving. The day after the celebrations, therefore, proves to be an extremely busy time for plumbers. One national company claims they see a 50 per cent increase in calls from the average Friday. While everyone else is calling it ‘Black Friday’, the plumbers of America have come to refer to it as ‘Brown Friday’. Presidents have the power to pardon turkeys Every Thanksgiving, the president performs one of their stranger duties: the pardon of one or two turkeys. Freed from the dinner table, they are sent for a long life on a farm or petting zoo (or, in some cases, Disneyland). The custom officially began with George HW Bush in 1989, although its roots go back further. When a turkey was sent to the White House for the Thanksgiving meal, JFK, Richard Nixon and Jimmy Carter all chose to let them live. Ronald Reagan did the same, although he went so far as to use the word “pardon”. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/11/19-WIKIPresidentRonaldReaganreceivesthe40thWhiteHouseThanksgivingTurkey1987-68d3e64-e1764177226575.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="A group of people stand around a white turkey as it tries to take flight" title="Ronald Reagan pardons Charlie the turkey in 1987. As well as having to deal with a very flappy bird, the president also had to field questions from the press regarding the Iran-Contra affair" /> The same day also marks the National Day of Mourning For many Americans, Thanksgiving is not a cause for celebration, but a stark reminder of the oppression of the Native American population. The image of the first Thanksgiving – where European settler and indigenous people sat side-by-side in peace – is a myth that glosses over the centuries of brutality and persecution that followed. The last Thursday in November, therefore, is a time of protest. It began in 1970 when Wamsutta Frank James, an elder of the Aquinnah Wampanoag, was refused the chance to give a speech he had written for the 350th anniversary of the arrival of the Mayflower, which spoke of the painful legacy of colonisation and governmental subjugation. Instead, he led a group of protesters in Plymouth and declared the first National Day of Mourning. Today, the United American Indians of New England (UAINE) organise a march and rally to honour their ancestors and educate the public about why Thanksgiving should be about more than giving thanks.
One family was an ever-present force in European affairs from the Middle Ages to the modern era, but, as Jonny Wilkes explores, the Habsburgs’ desperate bid to keep power within the family gave them a distinctive physical callsign, as well as dynastic longevity…
For centuries, the Habsburgs were one of the most prominent royal dynasties in Europe. They ruled as kings of Germany, from the 13th century, and as archdukes of Austria from the mid-14th century. They sat on the throne of the Holy Roman Empire from the 15th to 19th centuries. Their house dominated swathes of the continent with Habsburg rulers in a host of countries, most notably Spain. But there was something else that became prominent about the Habsburgs: their jawline. What was the Habsburg jaw? Many members of the dynasty had the same physical trait of a protruding bottom jaw – a mandibular prognathism, medically speaking. The jutting chin could be so pronounced that the flattering portrait artists of the day could not manage to hide them. The condition even prevented some members of the dynasty from eating or speaking properly. Read more | The Habsburgs: the dynasty that wouldn’t die The ‘Habsburg jaw’ was a biological result from generations of inbreeding. In a bid to keep their power, the Habsburgs kept everything within the family. They relied on ‘consanguine’ marriages that partnered close relatives, such as first cousins, or uncles with their nieces. View Green Video on the source website Why did the Habsburgs intermarry so much? It’s true that close-family marriages weren’t exactly unusual among the royal houses of Europe, but the Habsburgs were the champions of consanguinity. Of the 11 marriages during the reign of the Spanish Habsburgs, from 1516 to 1700, only two were not incestuous. “The arrangement made good political sense, guaranteeing that the two lines would support each other militarily,” writes historian Martyn Rady, “which paid dividends in the Thirty Years’ War (the bloody religious conflict fought across central Europe from 1618–48). “Biologically, however, it was a disaster. As first and second-cousin and uncle-niece marriages became the norm, madness and deformity followed.” In 1517, Italian diplomat Antonio di Beatis described the future Holy Roman Emperor Charles V as having “a long, cadaverous face and a lopsided mouth (which drops open when he is not on his guard) with a dropping lower lip”. In 2019, a scientific study confirmed the link between inbreeding and the Habsburg jaw. By analysing dozens of portraits for signs of mandibular prognathism and maxillary deficiency (where the bones of the upper jaw do not develop properly, causing the upper lip to appear sunken), the results showed that the more evidence of inbreeding, the worse the jaw. Who had the worst Habsburg jaw? The five family members with the ‘worst’ Habsburg jaws, as far as that study was concerned, were the Holy Roman Emperor Maximilian I (1493–1508), his daughter Margaret of Austria, Charles I of Spain, his nephew’s great-grandson, and the King Charles II of Spain (1665–1700). Charles II suffered from a host of conditions and disorders, among them epilepsy, as a result of 16 generations of inbreeding. His grandmother and aunt were the same person, while his mother was also his father’s niece. Such was his physical deterioration, as well as his mental decline, that his autopsy recorded that his body: “did not contain a single drop of blood; his heart was the size of a peppercorn; his lungs corroded; his intestines rotten and gangrenous; he had a single testicle, black as coal, and his head was full of water.” As for Charles’s Habsburg jaw, it was so pronounced that his upper and lower rows of teeth did not meet all. He could not chew his food, which served to exacerbate his health issues as he had multiple stomach concerns, and he had an oversized tongue that meant he could not speak clearly. One British envoy in the 17th century later documented the king’s eating habits, reporting that Charles II “swallows all he eats whole”. How 'inbred' were the Habsburgs? The 2019 study calculated an ‘inbreeding coefficient’ in order to analyse the Habsburgs. The typical ‘F value’ of this coefficient is 0.0625, which is indicative of a child with parents who were first cousins. Philip I, the founder of the Habsburg dynasty in Spain, had an F value of 0.025; Charles II, his great-great-great-grandson, had an F value more than 10 times that, at 0.254. “The Habsburg dynasty was one of the most influential in Europe,” said the lead researcher, Professor Román Vilas from the University of Santiago de Compostela in Spain, “but became renowned for inbreeding, which was its eventual downfall.” Did Marie Antoinette have a Habsburg Jaw? Marie Antoinette was a descendent of the Habsburg line. She was the daughter of Empress Maria Theresa and Holy Roman Emperor Francis I. Maria was in the Habsburg line of succession, ruling between 1740–80. She did not have the same prominent Habsburg jaw of some those in her family tree – though she did have a protruding lower lip, thought by some to be a version of the genetic pattern. Does the Habsburg chin still exist? Many of the descendants of the royal German-Austrian Habsburg family are still alive today – though the chin is no longer a feature of the family. Charles II would be the last Spanish Habsburg king. He became known as ‘El Hechizado’ (‘the bewitched’) and was doomed to end the line with his death, with no heir, at the age of 38. Martyn Rady writes how it “was followed by a war of succession across Europe.” Read more | What if Charles II of Spain had produced an heir? “Although the central European branch of the Habsburgs hoped to capture the dead king’s inheritance,” writes Rady, “its rulers failed to keep hold of Spain, which passed to the French Bourbons.” More from us HistoryExtra members can explore more weird and wonderful history with exclusive content from our archives Weird and wonderful history quiz Medieval magic at work: 7 spells and charms our ancestors used “Ninety years of horror: nine films that reflect society’s changing anxieties Not a HistoryExtra member? Explore our latest membership offers
Why do ‘wicked’ witches wear pointed hats? The real history explained
There have been many examples of pointed hats in history, but it remains unclear how any of them became a must-wear for the witches
We’re off to see… the Wicked Witch of the West, as she returns to the silver screen in Wicked: For Good, the second part of the fantasy epic based on the popular stage musical. But where would Elphaba be without her trademark look, including the iconic black, pointed and wide-brimmed hat? Along with a cat, broomstick and black robes, the pointed hat is a required feature of any depiction of the typical ‘evil witch’, and has been for centuries. How it became the headgear of choice, however, remains the subject of numerous theories – as there is no single hat to point the way to the archetypal witch. The myth of the alewives Before getting to the major theories, there is one that can be debunked. The internet is well-populated with the claim that the image of the witch began with alewives, medieval women who brewed ale in their homes and sold it locally. Dominating the brewing industry for a time, these women could achieve a degree of financial independence. In an era where any woman who baulked social norms was suspicious, this autonomy would have been enough to single them out, putting them at risk of being accused of witchcraft. In addition, the fact that they stood over bubbling cauldrons while brewing and wearing pointed hats to be easily spotted at markets, it is clear why some have argued that alewives were the inspiration for the image of the witch. Except, there is just zero historical evidence to back this up. The highly symbolic history of the pointed witch hat Instead, theories have taken in pointy hats from throughout history, some with highly symbolic meaning. The Phrygian cap of antiquity, for instance, came to represent liberty and freedom in the American and French Revolutions of the 18th century, while the ancient Romans presented freed slaves with a special pointed felt cap, called a pileus. In medieval Europe, the hennin came into fashion: an extremely tall cone with flowing material hanging out of the top. Yet while it certainly has a resemblance to the witch’s hat, it was the preserve of noblewomen rather than the typically poor and disenfranchised targets that most often provoked accusations of witchcraft. Persecution and prejudice Other pointed hats became symbols of persecution, which could be a more promising place to look. The Fourth Lateran Council, a meeting of church leaders convoked by the pope in 1215, decreed that all Jews had to distinguish themselves by wearing distinctive clothing. In some regions, this included a tall, conical hat called the pileum cornutum. That one was usually yellow or white, though. Quiz | Would you have been accused of witchcraft? A more likely origin can be found in the persecution of the Religious Society of Friends, a Christian movement founded in the mid-17th century. Better known as the Quakers, they rejected the established doctrines of the church, refused to conform with many social norms, and they believed in equality for all. Two upshots of this were that the Quakers would not take off their hats in the accepted display of respect and they permitted women to preach, which caused consternation in England and colonial America. Quaker women became a source of ridicule and condemnation, and their hats – which got pointier over time – came to be associated with the evils of society. Watch now | What is a witch? Don't miss episode 1 in our Academy on the history of witchcraft While none of these theories are conclusive, a pattern does emerge of pointy hats being worn by minority groups. So, as the witch hunts took hold in Europe, it is possible to see a rationale to equip the typical image of a witch with a hat that has a history of identifying someone as a troublesome ‘other’. By the 18th century, the witches seen in woodcuts firmly established the pointed hat as part of the uniform. In the 1720 book, The History of Witches and Wizards, for instance, a behatted witch can be seen flying on a broomstick – alongside a demon, no less – enshrining the conical pointed hat in the spooky, fantastical tradition.
Who was the real James Garfield, ‘the man from Ohio’ and doomed president of Death by Lightning?
The 20th President of the United States had the potential to be one of the greats, according to many – until his assassination less than a year into the job. As a new drama comes to Netflix about what set him and his killer on their tragic collision, here’s why it’s time to better remember James Garfield
In the history of the presidents of the United States, James Garfield is too easily overlooked. It’s not hard to see why: his time in the presidential spotlight had been brief, emerging late as a surprise candidate for the 1880 election and serving only 200 days in office. He is perhaps best known as one of the four US presidents to be assassinated, alongside Abraham Lincoln (1865), William McKinley (1901) and John F Kennedy (1963). But while he does not rank as one of the ‘greats’, Garfield is the great ‘what if’ of American politics. A brilliant mind, commanding yet humble, and driven by principle, he fought against corruption and for the modernisation of the country. If he had lived, who knows what he might have accomplished. Now Garfield is back in in the spotlight again in 2025 Netflix limited series Death by Lightning starring Michael Shannon as the doomed president and Matthew Macfadyen as his killer, Charles Guiteau. How and why was US President James Garfield assassinated? On 2 July 1881, President James Garfield travelled to the Baltimore and Potomac Railroad Station in Washington DC, on his way to speak at his college reunion before heading off on a family holiday. Only a couple of members of his cabinet accompanied him; even after Abraham Lincoln’s assassination 16 years earlier, it was not common practice for a president to have a security detail. As he entered the waiting room, a man named Charles Guiteau approached from behind, and fired his British Bulldog revolver twice. The first shot grazed Garfield’s arm – causing him to cry out, “My God, what is this?” – and the second hit his back, becoming lodged near his pancreas. While Garfield was rushed away for medical care, police seized the gunman. Guiteau, almost certainly suffering from a severe mental condition, had a lifetime’s worth of failed enterprises and disappointed ambitions that stretched well beyond his ability. The latest had been a role in politics. He had supported Garfield in the election and believed that he was due reward, though although in reality this amounted to writing a single speech, delivering it to a small group of people and distributing some printed copies. Read more | 50 assassinations that changed the world Yet despite this rudimentary support, Guiteau believed that his efforts had been utterly pivotal in Garfield’s victory, so much so that he expected to be rewarded with a position in the administration. For months, he tried to secure a consulship in Vienna or Paris. When neither materialised, a devastated Guiteau decided that Garfield had to die. In fact, he thought God told him that Garfield’s “removal” was necessary for the sake of the country. Having bought the pistol, he stalked the president for weeks – until his opportunity came in that train station waiting room. Although it took time, and some woefully mishandled treatment by his doctors, the attack ultimately claimed Garfield’s life. Who was the real James Garfield? James Abram Garfield was born on 19 November 1831 into a life of poverty. Raised in a log cabin in rural Ohio, his father Abram died young, leaving James, his brother and his two sisters to be cared for by their penniless yet headstrong mother, Eliza, while she managed their scrap of land. A young Garfield had several attributes in his favour, though: he was extremely bright, hardworking, and impatient to better himself. Starting in his teens, he worked odd jobs to put him through his education at Geauga Seminary, Western Reserve Eclectic Institute and then Williams College, Massachusetts, where he graduated in 1856. He went back to the Eclectic Institute as a professor, but by the age of 26 he had become its president. Excelling in numerous subjects, Garfield had a mind that could write Latin with one hand and ancient Greek with the other (and at the same time), and then, in later life, author his own proof of the Pythagorean theorem as a hobby. Read more | The 5 most notorious presidents in US history While at school, he met Lucretia Rudolph and, after a long courtship, they married in 1858. Their early years were strained, exacerbated by the loss of their first daughter and the revelation that Garfield had an affair with another woman while away during his service during the American Civil War. But Lucretia – affectionately known as Crete – forgave him and the couple grew devoted to each other. They had another six children, one more not surviving infancy, and Crete remained a constant counsel in her husband’s career. Not content as a teacher, Garfield become an attorney, got ordained as a minister and went into politics, joining the new, anti-slavery Republican Party and being elected to the Ohio state senate in 1859. Then, with the start of the American Civil War in 1861, his sights turned to the military. What did James Garfield do in the American Civil War? A staunch abolitionist, Garfield eagerly signed up for the Union cause. As well as raising funds for volunteer regiments in the legislature, he recruited men to the 42nd Ohio Volunteer Infantry and served as its colonel. With the war initially going badly, Garfield gave the Union something to cheer with his against-the-odds victory at the battle of Middle Creek in early 1862. He saw further action at the battles of Shiloh (1862) and Chickamauga (1863), rising to the rank of major general. By then, he had also been elected to the House of Representatives. President Lincoln himself convinced Garfield to resign his commission, saying that he had enough generals for the battlefield, but needed more good men in Congress. How long was James Garfield in Congress? Beginning in his early 30s, Garfield served nine terms and 17 years as a congressman, during which he distinguished himself as a charismatic orator and pragmatic statesman. Affable and willing to talk to both sides of the aisle, he chaired several powerful committees and became a key figure in fiscal matters, particularly known for his advocacy of the gold standard and free trade. Following the abolition of slavery, he fought for the rights of African Americans during the period of Reconstruction. In particular, he called for freed slaves to have the vote, believing that an educated, engaged Black population was the quickest way to equality. By the late 1870s, Garfield had become the leading Republican in the House, while simultaneously taking cases as a lawyer. In 1880, he was elected to the Senate, but before he could take his seat, higher office came calling. How did James Garfield become president? A newly elected senator, Garfield went to the Republican National Convention, held in Chicago in June 1880, to endorse his fellow Ohioan and secretary of the Treasury, John Sherman, for president. The other candidates were former president Ulysses S Grant, seeking a third term, and James Blaine, a senator from Maine. Selecting the party’s candidate would not be straightforward. The Republican Party was divided into factions over the ‘spoils system’, a long-established convention of patronage whereby government jobs would be filled by one’s supporters and cronies. The Stalwarts faction wanted it preserved, not least because their leader, the powerful New York senator Roscoe Conkling, controlled the patronage of the New York Customs House, which was at that time one of the most lucrative ports in the world. Conkling backed Grant. The Half-Breeds faction, headed by Blaine, wanted major reform to create a civil service based on merit. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/11/LIGHTNING102Unit03806RC-ab782f8-e1762445619564.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="Lucretia Garfield (Betty Gilpin) and James Garfield (Michael Shannon) in Netflix drama Death by Lightning" title="Lucretia Garfield (Betty Gilpin) and James Garfield (Michael Shannon) in Netflix drama Death by Lightning (Photo via Larry Horricks/Netflix)" /> Neither side budged. Several days and 35 ballots passed without one man securing the nomination. It became clear that a compromise candidate was needed – and more and more heads turned towards Garfield. Ostensibly against Garfield’s own wishes, he won the 36th ballot and reluctantly joined the presidential race, with Stalwart Chester Arthur added to the ticket as vice presidential candidate. His Democratic opponent was Winfield Scott Hancock, a fellow Union Army veteran. At this time, it was improper for a candidate to go out campaigning personally, so Garfield came up with a novel solution. He stayed at his home in Mentor, Ohio, and the press, voters and lobbyists came to him. Hundreds if not thousands heard him give speeches from his front porch, in which he made the most of his rags-to-riches story. In the end, he defeated Hancock, although narrowly – the margin was fewer than 10,000 votes, out of more than nine million cast. Was James Garfield a good president? The truth is that we will never know, but there is reason to think he could have been more than good. Garfield’s first act was to put together a conciliatory cabinet, including Blaine as Secretary of State, and then he set about purging the Post Office of corruption. The major success of his tenure in the White House came against Conkling. Instead of picking the man Conkling wanted as Collector of the Port of New York, according to the spoils system, Garfield chose a Half-Breed, William H Robertson. Both New York senators – Conkling and his preferred candidate – resigned in protest, certain that they would be instantly re-elected in a show of support from the city of New York, but the gambit backfired. Conkling lost his seat, and Garfield made a resounding statement asserting presidential authority. While a blow to the spoils system, Garfield still had to contend with huge numbers of office seekers, people who thought they were owed for their support. Among them was one Charles Guiteau. What was James Garfield’s relationship like with his vice president, Chester Arthur? At the time of Garfield’s nomination, it was hoped that divisions within the Republican Party could be reconciled by selecting Chester A Arthur, a Stalwart, as the vice-presidential candidate. This inevitably led to a tense relationship between the two in highest office. This came to a head especially during Garfield’s feud with Conkling. Arthur was firmly in Conkling’s pocket: indeed, he lived with him at the time of the convention. But after Garfield’s death, it would be Arthur – a product of the spoils system – who pushed through legislation for civil service reform. When did James Garfield die? The shots fired by Guiteau did not immediately kill Garfield. In fact, he lived for another 11 weeks, receiving treatment at the White House from a host of doctors. Far from aiding his recovery, these medics made matters worse. Their attempts to extract the bullet in the president’s back were carried out with no consideration of germs or sterilisation, meaning that Garfield picked up fevers and infections, including sepsis. Unable to eat, he lost a huge amount of weight and became increasingly weak. Time and time again, his wound was opened. Even Alexander Graham Bell, inventor of the telephone, was brought in to test his new metal detector in the hope of locating the bullet. Was the gunshot not fatal? Ever since, there has been a school of thought among medical experts that, if doctors had just left Garfield alone, he may have recovered. Instead, his health worsened. His doctors eventually decided to take Garfield away from the oppressive summer heat of Washington and transport him to Elberon, New Jersey, to benefit from the sea air. Extra rail track was laid in a night just to make his journey more comfortable. There, 80 days after being shot, Garfield finally succumbed on 19 September 1881, aged 49. Guiteau, who had spent the whole time in jail, could now be put on trial for murder. Despite his defence of insanity – and declaration “I did not kill the president. The doctors did that. I merely shot him” – he was found guilty and executed by hanging in June 1882. What did James Garfield’s assassination mean for American politics? Before his death, Garfield’s health became a media spectacle with every medical update printed in the papers. As such, the news of his death was met with an immense outpouring of grief. More than 100,000 people saw him lying in state in the Capitol Building, while 150,000 observed his funeral in Cleveland, Ohio. For years afterwards, his widow Lucretia preserved his records and papers, and stored them in an archive built on her property. This is now recognised as the first presidential library. Most significantly, Chester Arthur, once sworn in as the 21st president, signed the Pendleton Civil Service Reform Act in 1883, which ended the spoils system. He meant it as a memorial to Garfield, and it remains a legacy to a presidency that could have achieved much more, if not for an assassin’s bullet. For more content like this, check out the best historical movies of all time as chosen by historians and ranked by you, history TV shows and films to stream tonight, and our picks of the new history TV and radio released in the UK this week
Death by Lightning real history: the true story of Charles Guiteau and a president’s assassination
Pick a word to describe the life of Charles Guiteau and you may go with ‘failure’. Another option would be ‘assassin’. So why did he murder James Garfield, 20th President of the United States?
On the morning of 2 July 1881, Charles Guiteau secured his infamous place in American political history when he fired two shots at James Garfield. The 20th President of the United States would die almost three months later. Guiteau’s life was ended the following year, at the end of a rope. The assassination was Guiteau’s last violent response to a life of not receiving what he thought he deserved from the world. Almost certainly living with an undiagnosed mental health condition, Guiteau failed as a lawyer, journalist, author and preacher; he failed as a husband and as a member of a religious commune; and he failed, risibly, in his foray into politics. It could be said the only thing he succeeded at was killing the president. And he almost failed in that. Death by Lightning, a 2025 Netflix four-episode drama starring Matthew Macfadyen as Guiteau and Michael Shannon as Garfield, tells Giteau’s story while acknowledging that, as presidential assassins go, his name is hardly as well known as John Wilkes Booth or Lee Harvey Oswald, killers of Abraham Lincoln and John F Kennedy respectively. The opening line of the series, delivered as Guiteau’s preserved brain rolls across the floor in a jar, sums it up: “Who the f*** is Charles Guiteau?!” Who was the real Charles Guiteau? Charles Julius Guiteau had a rough start. Born on 8 September 1841 in Freeport, Illinois, he was the fourth of six children to a mother suffering from psychotic episodes. She died when Charles was seven, and his father was a disciplinarian, and often abusive. Like the man he later killed, the young Guiteau looked to better his situation through education, only to fail in in his attempt to get into the University of Michigan, stumbling at the entrance exam. Leaving schooling behind, he instead joined a religious sect – the Oneida Community – in New York state in 1860. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/11/GettyImages-615251932-faec44a-e1762443683976.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="Charles Guiteau, the assassin of President James A Garfield, shot the president in July 1881 and was executed by hanging the following year. His act of violence shocked the nation and led to renewed calls for civil service reform in the United States." title="Charles Guiteau" /> Did Charles Giteau join a ‘free love’ commune? Yes, he did. The Oneida Community believed in the possibility of perfectionism, being totally free of sin on Earth. To that end, they practiced mutual criticism (getting together in groups to berate the sin out of each other), a form of proto-eugenics to ensure only perfect babies were born, and ‘complex marriage’, where anyone could sleep with anyone else. While Guiteau idolised its founder, John Humphrey Noyes, he never fitted in at Oneida. He begrudged menial labour and could not find pleasure in the free-love doctrine as no one wanted to be his partner. Finding him egotistical, community members called him “Charles Gitout”. Read more | The story of the American Civil War He obliged, leaving to start a newspaper based on Oneida’s teachings, The Daily Theocrat. It failed, as did his return to his community and his resultant lawsuits against Noyes. By this point, several people described him as “insane”, including his sister Frances who recalled how he once held an axe over his head as if to kill her. Moving to Chicago, Guiteau managed to take a severely lax exam to be admitted to the bar and married a librarian named Annie Bunn. That did not improve his outlook, though: instead of becoming a lawyer he worked as a bill collector (and stole money from clients, for which he received a stint in jail) and he was abusive to Annie until she sought a divorce. In 1872, while in New York City, Guiteau showed his first interest in politics by writing a speech in support of a presidential candidate, Horace Greeley. For that alone, he believed he would deserve a reward in the form of an ambassadorial job in Chile. When that did not work out, Guiteau made a brief return to religion, writing a book titled The Truth, which he essentially copied from Oneida’s literature, and became an itinerant preacher. No one seemed to respond to his rambling sermons, yet he increasingly felt that not only was he doing God’s work, but, after surviving the sinking of a paddle steamer, he had divine protection. With this unshakeable sense of purpose – a drive which by this point was clearly seen by others as fantasism – Guiteau stepped back into politics. Did Charles Guiteau meet James Garfield? It is not known whether the two men met as part of the 1880 presidential election, in which Garfield had won the Republican ticket, although there was no concrete reason that they would have, since Guiteau did not have an active role in the campaign. That was not for want of trying; he constantly and desperately offered his assistance. This began before Garfield was on the ticket. At the Republican National Convention in 1880, many expected Ulysses S Grant to secure the nomination, given that he had held the office twice already and was the figurehead of the leading faction in the party, the Stalwarts. Read more | The 5 most notorious presidents in US history This group advocated the continuation of the ‘spoils system’, a long-established form of patronage whereby government posts were filled by supporters and cronies rather than on merit. Guiteau, harking back to the ambassadorship he felt he had deserved in turn for his support for Greeley, believed he would benefit from the spoils system, so he backed Grant. He wrote a speech titled ‘Grant against Hancock’ (the Democratic candidate, Winfield Scott Hancock). Except, Guiteau had thrown his support behind the wrong horse; at the convention, Grant failed to get enough votes for the nomination, and Garfield unexpectedly became the compromise candidate. This turned out not to a problem for Guiteau: he simply revised his speech by changing all the uses of ‘Grant’ to ‘Garfield’ and kept everything else the same. While he may have delivered it to a small group of people and printed a few copies for distribution, that was the extent of his contribution to the 1880 election. Why did Charles Guiteau assassinate James Garfield? When Garfield won the presidency, Guiteau became utterly convinced that it had been solely down to his speech. In return, he expected to be given a prestigious post in his administration, and set about asking for a consulship in Vienna, Austria, which he later changed to Paris, France. Joining the throngs of office seekers in Washington DC, a destitute Guiteau hung around quizzing anyone for an update on what was owed to him. The rest of the time, he snuck between boarding houses without paying. He focused much of his efforts on James Blaine, then the Secretary of State, bothering him regularly. One day in May 1881, an exasperated Blaine reportedly snapped: “Never speak to me again on the Paris consulship as long as you live!” Devastated, Guiteau came to a realisation: Garfield was out to destroy the spoils system and the only way to save it – and get the Paris job – was to kill him. Garfield’s Vice President, Chester Arthur – a prominent figure in the Stalwarts faction – would take over. More than that, Guiteau concluded that God had told him that Garfield’s “removal” was for the good of the Republican Party and the country. Read more | Who was the real Lucretia Garfield? Inside the forgotten life of a fleeting First Lady When and how did Charles Guiteau assassinate James Garfield? Borrowing money from a relative, Guiteau bought a short-barrelled British Bulldog revolver, deciding to go for the ivory grip over wood as he thought it would be more attractive when the weapon inevitably became part of a museum exhibit on the assassination. He tested his aim against trees in Washington’s parks and then began to stalk Garfield. During his trial, it became clear that he backed away from taking a shot on a few occasions, once in a church and on another, so that he would not kill Garfield in front of his wife. Eventually, Guiteau saw his opportunity in the newspaper: the president would be getting a train on 2 July 1881. Read more | How many US presidents died in office? That morning, Guiteau lay in wait at the Baltimore and Potomac Railroad Station for Garfield and his small entourage. Even after Abraham Lincoln’s assassination 16 years earlier, presidents did not have a security detail, so nobody stopped Guiteau as he approached and fired. One shot grazed Garfield’s arm, while the other hit him in the back. Guiteau tried to escape, but ran into a policeman. Accepting his arrest, he declared: “I am a Stalwart. Arthur is now President of the United States.” Garfield survived the attack and may have fully recovered had it not been for the shoddy medical care he received, typified by doctors treating his wound with unsterilised tools and hands. His condition gradually worsened and he died 11 weeks after the assassination, on 19 September 1880. He had been president for just over eight months. All that time, Guiteau waited in prison. What happened at Charles Guiteau’s trial? Once Garfield died, Guiteau could be charged with murder, his trial began in November. His brother-in-law George Scoville acted as his defence lawyer and put forward a plea of insanity. Guiteau certainly gave credence to that defence with his erratic behaviour in court. He interrupted and swore at everyone, including Scoville; delivered his testimony as epic poems; and passed notes to spectators asking for advice. Yet while he asserted that he had been insane at the moment of shooting – since God had taken away his free will – he insisted that he was not medically insane, to his defence’s chagrin. He ended up agreeing with the prosecution in that he knew his actions to be unlawful. Read more | 6 shocking presidential scandals that rocked the White House Besides, he argued, the responsibility of Garfield’s death should fall to his doctors, not him. “I just shot him,” he said. When not in court, he dictated his autobiography for The New York Herald, which included a personal ad seeking “a nice Christian lady under 30 years of age”, and started planning what to do after the trial. Guiteau maintained he did the right thing and believed many Americans backed him. He even wrote to Arthur saying he should be grateful for the higher salary now that he was president. Certain of being released, Guiteau anticipated going on a speaking tour of the country, followed by his run for president in 1884. Instead, when the trial concluded in late January 1882, the jury took less than an hour to find him guilty, to which he yelled, “You are all low, consummate jackasses!”. Guiteau was sentenced to death by hanging. When was Charles Guiteau executed? The execution was carried out on 30 June 1882, two days before the first anniversary of the shooting. On the scaffold, Guiteau recited a poem he wrote that morning, a rambling verse with the phrases “Glory hallelujah” and “I am going to the Lordy” repeated over and over. His request for an orchestra to provide musical accompaniment was denied. What happened to Charles Guiteau’s brain? Death by Lightning would have us believe that Charles Guiteau’s brain is in a jar somewhere – and this is absolutely true. Parts of it are still on display at the Mütter Museum in Philadelphia, an institution specialising in medical history. After the hanging, Guiteau’s body was autopsied and his brain sent off for study in the hopes of discovering an anatomical explanation for insanity. His state of mind remains a topic of debate to this day, with diagnoses ranging from syphilis, schizophrenia and psychopathy. Death by Lightning is streaming on Netflix now. For more content like this, check out the best historical movies of all time as chosen by historians, history TV shows and films to stream tonight, and our picks of the new history TV and radio released in the UK this week.
Who was the real Edward Guinness of House of Guinness?
Described as a 19th-century Succession, a period drama by the creator of Peaky Blinders follows four siblings who are part of the world’s most famous brewing family. Before you get a pint of the black stuff and settle in for the series, find out what’s known about the real Edward Guinness, one of the historical figures who was thrust into running the business
When Edward Guinness took joint control of his family’s brewery in 1868, it was already a global giant. Yet business would only keep booming as he ran things, initially with his brother before taking sole ownership and making the company public. The move netted Edward millions, and there seemed to be no limit to how high the Guinness brand, built on their world-famous stout, could go. This is the setting of House of Guinness, a historical drama from Steven Knight, creator of Peaky Blinders and SAS Rogue Heroes. The eight-part series is streaming on Netflix and stars Louis Partridge (of Enola Holmes fame) as Edward, an ambitious, savvy businessman and philanthropist, looking to navigate the political and familial obstacles of Victorian Dublin. Who was the real Edward Guinness? Edward Cecil Guinness, known as the Earl of Iveagh (he was first bestowed the title of Iveagh in 1891), headed up the Guinness Brewery in the second half of the 19th century and remained an important figure in its management into the 20th. As the richest man in Ireland, he used his wealth to sponsor a lifetime’s worth of philanthropic causes. Born 10 November 1847 in Dublin, he was the youngest child of Elizabeth and Benjamin Lee Guinness, who had established the family brewery on the world stage. Despite having two older brothers, Arthur and Benjamin, and a sister, Anne, young Edward emerged as the heir-apparent to the company. Privately tutored, he spent much of his teen years working as his father’s secretary, which gave him early hands-on experience and the opportunity to demonstrate his sound head for business. He studied at Trinity College Dublin, but by the time he graduated, Benjamin Lee had died and Edward, at 22 years old, was in charge, running Guinness in partnership with his eldest brother Arthur Guinness (played by Anthony Boyle, who starred as John Wilkes Booth in Manhunt and appeared in Masters of the Air). Edward Guinness and the Guinness Brewery According to the will of Benjamin Lee, who died in 1868, his eldest and youngest sons would manage the brewery together. Operations expanded quickly, but the partnership would not last. In 1876, a 29-year-old Edward bought Arthur’s shares for more than £600,000 (around £60 million in today’s money), making him sole proprietor. Under his management, the brewery continued to grow. The number of hogsheads (a type of cask) being brewed went from 565,000 in 1879 to over 900,000 just seven years later, and manufacture kept increasing. Guinness had become the largest brewery in the world. In 1886, Edward made his boldest and ultimately most successful business decision yet by floating two-thirds of the Guinness Brewery on the London Stock Exchange. With demand for shares so high, he made £6 million (around £680 million today), which firmly established him as the richest man in Ireland. By the age of 40, he had stepped back from the Guinness brewery, although he remained its largest shareholder and still held the position of chairman. Did Edward Guinness have a political career? Edward’s father Benjamin Lee was elected as both Lord Mayor of Dublin and an MP, and his brother Arthur followed their father into the House of Commons (though not without some complications when Arthur was accused of election fraud). Edward, however, would be unsuccessful in his own run for Parliament. Instead, he served in the municipal positions of High Sheriff of Dublin City, and then High Sheriff of County Dublin. A collection of titles started coming Edward’s way too, starting with the baronetcy of Castleknock in 1885. Later in life, he became a Knight of St Patrick, a national order of chivalry. Read more | Resolving the 'Irish Question': 5 key moments on the path to partition Edward made no secret of his political leanings. Throughout his life, and like all the other Guinnesses, he was a Unionist, a supporter of Ireland remaining a part of the United Kingdom, and a Protestant. At the time, the divide between Unionists and nationalists, who wanted independence, was widening, marked by the emergence of a republican secret society, the Fenians, in the 1860s. Religion similarly was a source of constant division. Who did Edward Guinness marry? Edward married his third cousin, Adelaide Maria Guinness, affectionately known as ‘Dodo’. Together, they had three sons: Rupert, Ernest and Walter. In recognition of his achievements as a businessman and philanthropist, he was made Baron Iveagh in 1891, followed by Viscount Iveagh in 1905. Befitting his titles, he bought Elveden Hall in Suffolk, which remains the family seat. Finally, in 1919, he became Earl of Iveagh. Particularly given his staunch support for the Union, there is no historical evidence that he had any personal or romantic relationships with any involved in the Fenian cause, as in the show. Edward’s ‘retirement’ from the Guinness Brewery After making the company public, Edward maintained a presence in the running of the business, appointing his brother-in-law Claude as a senior manager. He hoped to spend more of his time grouse shooting in Scotland or sailing with the Prince of Wales (the future George V). When Claude had a mental breakdown, however, reportedly being removed from the brewery in a straitjacket and dying shortly afterwards, Edward returned to a more formal role. There he remained until his death. A key development came in 1902, when Edward commissioned the Guinness Storehouse, a section of St James’s Gate that is now a major tourist attraction. More than 1.5 million people visit every day, enticed by the claim that this is the best place in the world to have a pint of Guinness. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/09/GettyImages-3376350-c8ee910-e1758815899722.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="A stunt photo showing a man guiding a 10-ton stainless steel fermenting tun as it is hoisted by a crane at Glasgow docks, en route to the Guinness Brewery in Dublin" title="A stunt photo showing a man guiding a 10-ton stainless steel fermenting tun as it is hoisted by a crane at Glasgow docks, en route to the Guinness Brewery in Dublin" /> Edward Guinness as a philanthropist Following the family tradition for philanthropy, Edward gave huge sums of money to humanitarian causes, particularly urban renewal and slum clearance. The Guinness Trust and Iveagh Trust were created to provide affordable housing in London and Dublin respectively, and still operate, today known as The Guinness Partnership. In Dublin, his contributions helped in the upkeep of St Patrick’s Cathedral and a number of hospitals, and built the Iveagh Markets for street traders, the Iveagh Play Centre as a recreational hall to serve as an after-school club, and swimming baths. Small fortunes went to medical and scientific research, such as co-founding the Radium Institute in London, and he sponsored new buildings at Trinity College Dublin, where he served as chancellor for nearly 20 years. Edward also helped finance Ernest Shackleton’s Nimrod Expedition of 1907–9, and in recognition a mountain in Antarctica was named after him. When did Edward Guinness die? Edward Guinness died in London on 7 October 1927, at the age of 79. He would be buried near his Suffolk estate. Another of his houses, Kenwood was gifted to the nation along with the so-called Iveagh Bequest, his magnificent collection of paintings, furniture and textiles. Following his death, Edward’s son Rupert oversaw the Guinness brewery business for the next 35 years, bringing the brand into the 20th century. House of Guinness is streaming on Netflix now. For more content like this, check out the best historical movies of all time as chosen by historians and ranked by you, history TV shows and films to stream tonight, and our picks of the new history TV and radio released in the UK this week
Who was the real Arthur Guinness of House of Guinness, and what happened to him?
Anthony Boyle stars as a tortured heir to the brewery fortune in Netflix historical series House of Guinness. In the aftermath of his father’s death, he must juggle business, sibling rivalry and ambition, and a changing Ireland. Trouble is brewing, but is the Arthur Guinness of the screen anything like the real man?
Since 1759, when the first Arthur Guinness signed a 9,000-year lease on St James’s Gate Brewery in Dublin, generations of Guinnesses have grown the business, along with a vast fortune and a family legacy based on philanthropy as much as their stout. House of Guinness, a drama now streaming on Netflix, explores a chapter of that fascinating family history in the way that only Peaky Blinders and SAS Rogue Heroes creator Steven Knight can. Starring a riotously charming Anthony Boyle (of Masters of the Air fame) as Arthur Guinness, the eight-part series bills itself as a 19th-century Succession, complete with sibling rivalries, political intrigue and a rebellious spirit – all mixed down with plenty of pints. Who was the real Arthur Guinness? The Arthur Guinness of House of Guinness is not the one who founded the brewery back in 1759. This is his great-grandson, Arthur Edward Guinness, 1st Baron Ardilaun. He ran the brewery business alongside his brother Edward from 1868 to 1876, as well as sitting in the House of Commons as an MP and giving generously to a host of humanitarian causes. Born on 1 November 1840 in Dublin, Arthur was the eldest son of Elizabeth and Benjamin Lee Guinness, the man responsible for turning the brewery into a truly global giant. Growing up with two brothers, Benjamin and Edward, and a sister, Anne, he received an elite education at Eton and Trinity College Dublin, graduating in 1862. During its first three generations, Guinness had become the largest brewery in Ireland and a major exporter to Europe, the Americas and parts of Africa. Under the stewardship of Arthur and his youngest brother, Edward Guinness, the brewery continued to thrive; even the temperance movement, which bemoaned the social ills of alcohol, promoted the stout as a preferred alternative to spirits like gin and whiskey. What was Arthur’s involvement in the brewery? For Arthur, 1868 would be a life-changing year, beginning with the death of his father. He was elevated to the title of Baronet Guinness of Ashford, which had been created just a year earlier to mark Benjamin Lee’s achievements. His father left a fortune of £1.1 million (well over £100 million today) and the Guinness Brewery, the management of which became a partnership between Arthur and the youngest son, Edward. While the middle brother Benjamin and sister Anne received estates and money, they had no say in the business. In the first decade of their ownership, the success of Guinness only expanded, with sales more than doubling from around 350,000 barrels sold in 1868 to almost 779,000 in 1876. In the decades that followed, it would rise to more than a million a year. Was Arthur Guinness a philanthropist? As a major landowner in rural Ireland, Arthur had hundreds of poor tenants. Although more attentive than many landlords, this got him embroiled in the agrarian unrest and occasional violence of the 1880s, known as the Land War, in which several of his employees were murdered. Read more | What was the Fenian Brotherhood? And was Ellen Cochrane real? Generally, though, he was considered a generous and conscientious figure, having learned the creed of the Guinness family to favour philanthropy and social responsibility over greed. Did Arthur Guinness commit election fraud? The year 1868 also saw Arthur’s election to the UK Parliament as a Conservative MP for the City of Dublin, the seat previously been held by his father. Only a year later, however, the election was voided when it emerged that Guinness agents had used tactics that amounted to corruption and bribery, even offering £5 for every vote. When the matter went to court, it was concluded that Arthur himself had no idea this had happened. It would be another five years before he could win his seat back, in 1874, when he served under the Conservative government of Benjamin Disraeli until 1880. This was a time of widening divide in Ireland, between the Unionists who wished to stay part of the United Kingdom and nationalists seeking independence. Religion similarly divided the Irish between Protestant and Catholic. Read more | Who was to blame for the Irish famine? Arthur was a staunch Unionist and Protestant, as all generations of his family had been. In later life, he bought two Unionist newspapers and supported the Irish Unionist Alliance, and the Guinness Brewery’s clear stance was cause for some anger among republicans. In 1880, Arthur left the House of Commons as he was raised to the peerage as Baron Ardilaun. What’s known about Arthur Guinness’s sexuality? In 1871, Arthur married Lady Olivia Charlotte Hedges-White, daughter of the Earl of Bantry. It seemed to be a happy marriage, although childless. The couple became known for their extravagant hospitality, hosting both Queen Victoria and the future George V, and they travelled widely. According to Joe Joyce, author of 2009 The Guinnesses: The Untold Story of Ireland’s Most Successful Family, Arthur was “probably gay”. Joyce also reported that both Arthur Guinness and the Baroness Ardilaun were content in maintaining the marriage under the agreement that there would be no sexual intercourse. It’s a slender claim that the show has taken to heart and run with to riotous conclusions. Certainly, there was no way that same-sex relationships could have been accepted in tandem with success in public life – male homosexuality was legislated against in UK law, under the 1861 Offences Against the Person Act. "Sodomy (or buggery) were previously a hanging offence in Britain," writes Brian Lewis. "This was modified by the Offences Against the Person Act 1861, which replaced capital punishment with minimum sentences of 10 years’ imprisonment. The Criminal Law Amendment Act of 1885 added to the statute book a two-year maximum penalty for 'gross indecency' between men." What happened to Arthur Guinness after the events of House of Guinness? In 1876, Arthur made the decision to step back from the brewery, selling his half of the shares to his brother for nearly £700,000. Although that figure made the younger Guinness a fabulously wealthy man, Edward would float the business a few years later on the London Stock Exchange, which made him a multi-millionaire. Arthur helped restore Marsh’s Library and extend the Coombe Hospital in Dublin; he sponsored the building of housing for the poor; and, along with his brother, set up the Dublin Exhibition of Arts and Finance to encourage domestic trade. To this day, people can visit St Stephen’s Green, a 22-acre public park that Arthur bought, landscaped and gifted to the city in the 1870s and 80s. Was Arthur Guinness assassinated? No, Arthur Guinness was not assassinated, or ever targeted by a Fenian plot to assassinate him. Arthur died on 20 January 1915, at the age of 74. He would be buried in the Dublin suburb of Raheny at All Saints’ Church, the building of which he had helped fund several decades earlier. House of Guinness is streaming on Netflix now. For more content like this, check out the best historical movies of all time as chosen by historians and ranked by you, history TV shows and films to stream tonight, and our picks of the new history TV and radio released in the UK this week
What if Harold died at Stamford Bridge, not Hastings?
It’s probably one of the recognisable depictions of a medieval royal death: the Bayeux Tapestry’s representation of King Harold of England, an arrow in his eye, meeting his fate at the battle of Hastings in October 1066. But what if he had been killed weeks earlier, at the battle of Stamford Bridge, instead? Historian Dr Marc Morris offers an another possibility
In 1066, three men vied for the English throne. Harold Godwinson seized it first, but he would have to fight to keep power. He defeated one rival, Harald Hardrada, at the battle of Stamford Bridge, before meeting his fate at Hastings against the duke of Normandy, best known as William the Conqueror. It was a turning point in English history, which saw the end of Anglo-Saxon rule and ushered in the Norman Conquest, and one that has been dramatised in the BBC's King and Conqueror. Surely, to change a major detail of that tumultuous year – such as Harold dying at Stamford Bridge in September 1066 rather than Hastings, fought in October – would have monumental repercussions on the political, cultural, religious and social changes that followed. Read more | When was the Viking Age? Perhaps not, though, according to Dr Marc Morris, a historian, broadcaster and author specialising in the Middle Ages. “I don’t think it would have made that much difference in the long term,” he says. “Almost all of the changes that took place in England as a result of the Norman Conquest would still have taken place anyway, whether or not there was a Norman Conquest.” William’s victory against Harold at Hastings ended Anglo-Saxon rule and established a new elite class, with profound impact, but many of the Norman upheavals actually represented the shifting attitudes in Europe at the time, says Morris. “Castles, Romanesque architecture, the demise of slavery, the introduction of chivalry: all of these things were becoming the norm across the continent, across the Frankish-speaking world.” Listen on the podcast | 1066: the battle for England They would have come to England eventually, although over several generations rather than virtually overnight, as seen under the Normans. “The only exception is that we wouldn’t have such a crazy language as modern English, because it wouldn’t have had the French overlay,” adds Morris. Besides, was it possible that Harold’s death at Stamford Bridge – against the invading forces of the king of Norway, and rival claimant to the throne, Harald Hardrada – would have prevented the Norman Conquest in the first place? Such battles always came with an “element of random death”, as Morris puts it, given the volume of arrows flying around. “Harold could have been killed at any point, no pun intended.” His death would almost certainly have ended Anglo-Saxon hopes at Stamford Bridge, and would have been seen as a judgement on the legitimacy of his claim to the throne. In need of another claimant to stand against the invading Norwegian warriors, and the threat of William’s Normans down south, Anglo-Saxon leaders – much like they did in reality after Hastings – would have turned to Edgar Aetheling, the teenage great-nephew of Edward the Confessor. Meanwhile, Harald Hardrada and his ally Tostig, brother of Harold and, says Morris, “a fifth columnist”, would have been celebrating two major victories in the space of a week. Five days before Stamford Bridge, they defeated the earls of Mercia and Northumbria at the battle of Fulford, before taking control of York. Now, they could march south and take London, putting an end to Edgar’s reign before it even began. “I wouldn’t imagine much in the way of opposition, so Harald would have had a coronation,” suggests Morris. Of immediate concern, however, would have been the duke of Normandy’s landing, which took place on the Sussex coast on 28 September, just three days after Stamford Bridge. Whereas Harold relied on the strategy of surprise and raced down to meet William straight away, a victorious Harald Hardrada and Tostig were unlikely to move with the same speed and urgency. “If they took time to recover their strength and have a celebratory feast, they would have still been in the north when William landed,” says Morris. Harald Hardrada and Tostig may have chosen not to come south until their hold on the north had been consolidated, if they refused to rise to William’s harrying of Sussex; a baiting tactic used to great effect against Harold. They then could have waited for reinforcements from Norway and began preparations for a battle (if not a war) against the Normans. William, on the other hand, could not have waited forever, Morris asserts. “He would eventually have moved inland, not least so his troops would have food to live off. The difficulty there is that once they started foraging, they left themselves exposed to attack.” Like the other invaders in the north, though, William would have set about preparing for a campaign for the crown. Read more | Why there's more to Harald than his death in 1066 This does raise the question of whether the two sides could have reached an agreement whereby they split control of England, similar to Cnut and Edmund Ironside’s truce following the battle of Assandun in 1016. But that had only lasted a few weeks, as Edmund died on 30 November 1016. And if that was the case, Morris questions how long such peace could last. “You can’t share the crown. I can’t see Harald Hardrada or William settling for a half measure. It would come to blows. There would be weeks, running into months of warfare,” he explains. “Who wins? We don’t know. In terms of reputation, you can’t get as much as a cigarette paper between the two, so it would come down to luck; who had God’s favour on the day.” Ultimate victory for Harald Hardrada, followed by a reign long enough to secure his rule and succession, would have resulted in a situation similar to Cnut’s, half a century earlier, according to Morris. “He was still king of Norway and had Scandinavian lands to rule, and would have to return to them. He was not going to stick around in England,” he states, and puts forward Tostig as the likely placeman to rule in his stead. “Having said that, Harald Hardrada failed to see Harold coming and his warriors went off to Stamford Bridge without their armour, so that doesn’t exactly suggest that he was a details man,” Morris concludes. “I’d put my money on William, because he was smarter.” In the case of William winning the throne, even if it might have taken longer than it did in reality, the Norman Conquest would have got underway in the much the same way it did after Hastings. Instead of 1066, however, the history books would talk of a different year as being a turning point in the story of England. Context The death of Edward the Confessor in early January 1066, after nearly 23 years on the English throne, sparked a succession crisis. Since he had no heir, several contenders asserted their tenuous right to be king. Harold Godwinson, the extremely powerful and wealthy earl of Wessex, claimed he had been chosen as successor on Edward’s deathbed and, with the support of the church and nobles, was crowned the following day.Yet William, duke of Normandy, equally declared he had been promised the throne as Edward’s distant cousin, while the king of Norway, Harald Hardrada, based his claim on his lineage to Cnut, who ruled England from 1016 to 1035. Both prepared to invade, with the latter landing on the north-east coast in September. Harold, having marched his army 185 miles in four days, surprised Harald Hardrada – who was allied with Harold’s brother, Tostig – near York on 25 September. Winning the battle of Stamford Bridge, in which Harald Hardrada and Tostig were killed, Harold then sped back south to face William’s Norman forces. At the battle of Hastings on 14 October, however, Harold was killed and the victorious William was crowned before the year was out, ushering in the Norman Conquest.
The Fountain of Youth is most associated with the Spanish conquistador Juan Ponce de León, but people have believed in magical waters that bring everlasting life since antiquity
Some stories in myth and legend have a habit of resurfacing time and again, carrying symbolism and ideas that endure across cultures and centuries. One such recurring motif is that of miraculous elixirs of life or sacred places that promise rejuvenation — from the philosopher’s stone and the Holy Grail to various enchanted springs. Archetypal among these is the Fountain of Youth, a mythical source said to restore vitality to all who drink from it. What is the Fountain of Youth? Legend says that anyone who located the mythical spring known as the Fountain of Youth would be bestowed with long life or renewed youth by drinking or bathing in its waters. Is the Fountain of Youth real? There is no single Fountain of Youth in legend. The notion is a very human one: to believe in something beyond our understanding that preserves life, and then to regard water – something on which every civilisation has been utterly dependent – as the vessel of that power. As such, there has never been a definitive Fountain of Youth. Water – whether in the form of springs, rivers or lakes – have been considered sacred by numerous cultures around the world, and imbued with divine powers. To this day, people flock to the pilgrimage site of Lourdes in France, where the waters flowing from a grotto are revered for their miraculous abilities to heal the sick and infirm. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/05/GettyImages-919818740-e357f71-e1748426030593.jpg" width="620" height="413" alt="Painting of people bathing in a square fountain, with elderly people to the left entering and young people emering from the right" title="Those who drank the waters of the Fountain of Youth were said to have their looks and vigour restored (Photo via Getty)" /> Could the Fountain of Youth be under the Great Pyramid of Giza? There is no legend that links the Fountain of Youth to the Great Pyramid of Giza, as is suggested in Apple TV+’s Indiana Jones-esque movie Fountain of Youth. Likewise the legend has no link to the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, any of the world’s most famous paintings, or the ‘Wicked Bible’ misprint of the King James bible (so named after James VI and I, who commissioned it). Where is the Fountain of Youth? The Fountain of Youth is most closely associated with the New World today, but it has also been spoken of in Africa and Asia Minor. In the fifth century BC, the Greek historian Herodotus wrote of the Macrobians, an African people with unnaturally long lifespans, supposedly thanks to the water they drank. A century later, Alexander the Great is said to have gone looking for a youth-restoring and healing river. Millenia later, in medieval times, there was widespread belief in Europe of a Christian king in a land somewhere in Asia, sometimes Africa, named Prester John, who was said to have a Fountain of Youth of his own. Then in the 14th-century fantastical travelogue, The Travels of Sir John Mandeville, the author claimed to have drunk from a magical spring in India. What does Juan Ponce de León have to do with the Fountain of Youth? In the 16th century, the Fountain of Youth legend became inextricably linked with the exploration of the New World and the Spanish conquistador Juan Ponce de León. After founding the first European settlement on Puerto Rico, Ponce de León led an expedition in 1513 that reached modern-day Florida, US. It has long been claimed that he was driven by an obsession to discover magical waters believed to be on the island of Bimini (in the Bahamas). Except, there is no evidence to suggest that this was Ponce de León’s aim at all, even from his own letters. Like many other Spanish explorers, he was there for riches and glory, and he certainly did not find anything that brought everlasting life: he would be dead less than a decade later, having been wounded during an attack by native Americans during his attempt to colonise the land in Florida. Read next | Who was the real Kaʻiana in Apple TV+ drama Chief of War? Meet the warrior noble who defied a king Is the Fountain of Youth in Florida? The connection between the Fountain of Youth and Ponce de León was made after his death by another Spaniard, Gonzalo Fernàndez de Oviedo y Valdés. A friend of one of Ponce de León’s rivals, he had reason to undermine the 1513 voyage and make its leader look a fool. In his Historia general y natural de las Indias, he wrote witheringly of Ponce de León, having been duped by the native peoples, plunging deeper into the unknown on a deranged quest for a magical fountain. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/05/GettyImages-1134297534-13181de-e1748426562575.jpg" width="620" height="413" alt="A tourist postcard for St Augustine, Florida, show an elderly woman drinking in a wheelchair drinking from the Fountain of Youth and, right, the same woman restored to your in a bikini with arms outstretched" title="The Florida town of St Augustine went as far as to market itself as the 'home' of the Fountain of Youth (Photo via Getty)" /> The story stuck, and the Fountain of Youth has forevermore been associated with Florida – not that the people there have minded perpetuating the myth. In the town of St Augustine, the Fountain of Youth Archaeological Park is advertised as featuring the very waters ‘found’ by Ponce de León – despite the fact that he may not have ever been there. History's Greatest Conspiracy Theories Member exclusive | Was the moon landing faked? Did Shakespeare actually write his plays? Were the pyramids built by aliens? Expert historians offer their perspectives on history's biggest conspiracy theories. Listen to all episodes now For more content like this, check out the best historical movies of all time as chosen by historians and ranked by you, history TV shows and films to stream tonight, and our picks of the new history TV and radio released in the UK this week
Did Adolf Hitler really only have one testicle?
Although British soldiers in the Second World War sang about the Führer only having “one ball”, that did not necessarily make it anatomical fact. The discovery of medical records from his time in prison, however, paint a surprisingly complicated story
“Hitler has only got one ball, / Goring has two but very small, / Himmler is rather sim’lar, / But poor old Goebbels has no balls at all.” This cheeky wartime ditty mocking the masculinity of Adolf Hitler and the Nazi leadership, set to the jaunty tune of the Coloney Bogey March, was once a familiar favourite in schoolyards in Britain and beyond. The lyrics often change – in one variant, it is suggested in rhyme that the Fuhrer’s remaining testicle now resides as something of a war trophy in the Albert Hall – but where does this claim come from, and is there any truth to it? Is there any truth that Hitler had one testicle? On balance it seems unlikely that Hitler only had one testicle, but there are conflicting arguments on both sides. That said, there have been several stories that, if true, would mean the song was actually based on anatomical fact. According to one, Hitler lost a testicle during the First World War after being hit by shrapnel at the battle of the Somme in 1916; another says the injury occurred much earlier, in childhood, during an altercation with a goat. It all seems to be the stuff of hearsay. Although Hitler was wounded at the Somme, it was in the thigh rather than the groin. What’s more, that claim comes from many decades later from an unconfirmed source, a priest who supposedly took the confession of the German medic who treated Lance Corporal Hitler. Perhaps the single best piece of evidence that counters the claim that Hitler only had one testicle comes from the doctor who treated Hitler as a child, an Austrian Jew named Eduard Bloch who fled to the United States in 1940, insisted to American interrogators that the genitals of the future Fuhrer were “completely normal”. Still, the seemingly endless fascination with Hitler’s reproductive equipment and sexual proclivities has persisted over the decades. Years after the war, a new claim emerged that the Soviets had carried out an autopsy of Hitler after taking Berlin in 1945, in which they found he did indeed have a missing testicle. This is not widely accepted as credible, however. Read more | Did Hitler escape to Argentina after WW2? Was anything wrong with Hitler’s testicle? In 2015, a German researcher was able to study the medical records made during an examination of Hitler at Landsberg Prison. He was held there after the failure of the Munich Beer Hall Putsch, the failed uprising he instigated in 1923. According to the notes written by Dr Josef Steiner Brin, Hitler was “healthy and strong”, but did have a “right-side cryptorchidism”, or an undescended right testicle. Read more | The history of the Hitler salute Where does the song “Hitler has only got one ball” come from? The song appeared in the early days of the Second World War. While its origins are unknown (over the years several people have claimed they wrote the lyrics to be used for propaganda purposes), it caught on with the British soldiers as a means of ridiculing Hitler. Crude and childish, it aimed to emasculate both the Nazi leader and his inner circle, by implying they were not full men. Singing about Hitler and co. not having the usual number of balls was to call them cowards too: “to have no balls” is another way to say someone has no courage or nerve. By bringing Hitler’s physical state into question, there may have been a further intention to the song in challenging the Nazis’ claims about a master race of perfect humans. When they were talking all the time about tall, muscular blond-haired, blue-eyed Aryans, the song serves to illustrate how Hitler, and those around him, were far from meeting those standard themselves. Nazi Germany | A short course from HistoryExtra Academy Member exclusive | Everything you need to know about Nazi Germany, guided by historian, author and broadcaster Laurence Rees. Explore the course now