Welcome to a whirlwind tour of 10 mad tales surrounding Germany’s final monarch, Kaiser Wilhelm II. From a botched birth that left him with a crippled arm to outlandish war plans against New York, this emperor’s life reads like a melodramatic novel—complete with eccentric obsessions, baffling diplomatic gaffes, and a final exile that still intrigues historians today.

10 mad tales of the Kaiser

10 The Disability That Doomed The World

Wilhelm’s emotional turbulence can be traced back to his harrowing birth on 27 January 1859. As the first child of Crown Prince Friedrich III and Victoria, Queen Victoria’s eldest daughter, the delivery went terribly wrong: a clumsy obstetrician injured his head and neck, leaving him with permanent nerve damage, a paralyzed left arm, and deafness in his left ear. Throughout childhood, he endured bizarre remedies—electro‑therapy, metal restraints, and even the bizarre practice of wrapping a freshly killed hare around his limb.

These physical setbacks likely fed his volatile temper. Determined to hide the useless arm from public view, Wilhelm’s insecurity morphed into aggression, resentment, and an unquenchable need to prove his might.

He channeled this drive into the military, dreaming of becoming a second Frederick the Great. Wilhelm’s grandiose vision demanded that Germany’s influence reach into every corner of the globe: “Deep into the most distant jungles of other parts of the world, everyone should know the voice of the German Kaiser; nothing should occur on this Earth without having first heard him.”

Thus, the Kaiser’s bombastic militarism was a compensatory façade for his disability. By privileging army men and sidelining civilians, he set the stage for policies that would later drag Europe into a catastrophic war—proving that a crippled left arm could indeed have world‑shaking consequences.

9 Hatred Of Britain

Wilhelm’s fixation on his mother’s hands bordered on the erotic. He penned letters dreaming of kissing her soft palms, begging her to keep the promise of letting him kiss the inside of her hand. In another missive, he described a vivid dream where she pulled him into her library, removed her gloves, and placed her hand on his lips—an intimacy he craved.

Psychologist Dr. Brett Kahr suggests Wilhelm was testing burgeoning sexual feelings on his mother, a theory bolstered by his later fetish for women’s arms—slowly peeling away gloves and kissing the arm from fingertip to elbow. Yet Queen Victoria, his mother, never returned his devotion. Disappointed by his disability, she openly expressed her disapproval, molding him toward a stern British‑liberal ideal that Wilhelm could never satisfy.

The resulting bitterness festered. In 1888, after a British doctor failed to cure his father’s throat cancer, Wilhelm erupted: “An English doctor crippled my arm, and now an English doctor is killing my father!” He concocted conspiracies involving an Anglo‑Jewish plot led by his mother to overthrow Germany, accusing the royal family of bringing the Reich to the brink.

Later, Wilhelm blamed his uncle, Edward VII, for a hostile “encirclement” of Germany, labeling him a Satan. His paranoia turned diplomacy into a hunt for conspiracies, while he simultaneously admired the British navy, launching a massive war‑ship program that alarmed Britain and stoked international tension.

8 Lunatic On A Saddle

Relatives and courtiers feared Wilhelm suffered from mental illness—a trait that seemed to run in his family, with cousins like Ludwig II of Bavaria retreating into fairy‑tale realms. The lingering effects of his ear injury nearly drove him insane, a terrifying prospect for a ruler wielding Europe’s most powerful war machine.

Eschewing the modern notion of constitutional rule, Wilhelm clung to the archaic “I” instead of “my government,” preferring to conduct affairs from a literal saddle. He could sit astride a horse for five or six hours straight, even placing the saddle behind his desk to feel like a battlefield commander.

His ministers, terrified of dissent, became sycophantic poodles, even hiding their own left arms when Wilhelm photographed himself concealing his. One count famously groveling before the Kaiser was likened to a poodle with a “marked rectal opening.” He delighted in childish pranks—slapping men’s behinds, beating courtiers, and demanding vulgar jokes before allowing admission to his White Stag Dining Club, where aspirants presented their posterior for a sword‑flat slap.

Even visiting dignitaries weren’t spared. When Italy’s diminutive King Victor Emmanuel II arrived, Wilhelm quipped, “Now watch how the little dwarf climbs up the gangway.” During a 1898 Jerusalem visit, he forced Ottoman officials to demolish part of the Jaffa Gate and fill the moat so his horse could pass—destroying a historic wall built by Suleiman the Magnificent.

One courtier summed him up in 1908: “He is a child and will always remain one.”

7 Uniform Fetish

Wilhelm’s obsession with uniforms bordered on mania. He owned over 400 military outfits—yet not a single dressing gown—insisting that only soldiers deserved attire. A permanent cadre of tailors stood ready in his palace, crafting specific uniforms for every conceivable occasion: gala wear, casual dining, “informal” stays, even uniforms designed solely to greet other uniforms.

At parades he sported a solid‑gold helmet; at receptions he changed outfits five or six times, even donning a British admiral’s uniform when indulging in plum pudding. He fancied himself a fashion designer, dictating gray coats, tunics, and trousers for his troops. The result? Uniforms that cramped soldiers, itching in summer and failing to keep warmth in winter, yet Wilhelm adored the look.

General Helmuth von Moltke warned that such flamboyance distracted the army from practical war preparation. He lamented that ribbons and multicolored insignia hampered weapon handling, turning maneu‑vers into theatrical displays and allowing “the Gorgon head of war” to grin over the battlefield.

6 The Gay Knights Of The Round Table

Whether Wilhelm was gay remains debated, but he openly surrounded himself with men. His closest confidant, Prince Philipp zu Eulenberg, was scandal‑exposed in 1907, providing Wilhelm with tenderness his wife, Auguste Viktoria, never could. Though Eulenberg loved the Kaiser, Wilhelm’s feelings were ambiguous, and their circle—the Liebenberg Round Table—was accused of forming a homoerotic shield around him, insulating him from political realities.

Behind the domineering façade, Wilhelm was hypersensitive and squeamish, preferring male companionship over female conversation, which he deemed “dreadful.” He enjoyed the regiment’s camaraderie more than Berlin’s high‑society, often retreating to Potsdam for the company of “nice young men.”

During a Black Forest hunt, the chief of the military cabinet performed a dance in a pink ballet skirt; the man collapsed of a heart attack, sending Wilhelm into a weeks‑long nervous breakdown. The incident, hinting at homosexual undertones among the army elite, was swiftly hushed.

In World War I, officers were promoted based on height and looks—Wilhelm seemed to select models for a magazine cover rather than competent commanders, turning the officer corps into decorative ornaments, a concern Moltke had long voiced.

5 The Plan To Attack New York And Boston

In the late 19th century, as the United States flexed its emerging power, Germany feared exclusion from the Panama Canal. Wilhelm, recognizing America as a fresh rival, ordered Lieutenant Eberhard von Mantey to draft an invasion blueprint against the U.S.

Mantey envisioned a 100,000‑man amphibious force aboard 60 ships, targeting Virginia’s Norfolk, Hampton Roads, and Newport News, while planning a beachhead at Cape Cod to march on Boston. Heavy cruisers would bombard Manhattan, creating panic. He boasted that “two to three battalions of infantry and one battalion of sappers should be sufficient.”

The aim was to force President Theodore Roosevelt into a peace deal granting Germany free reign over the Atlantic and Pacific. Yet Chief of Staff Count Alfred von Schlieffen privately doubted the plan’s feasibility. Though he followed Wilhelm’s orders and nearly ordered the attack, Germany’s limited troop numbers forced Schlieffen to abort, shelving the scheme in 1907.

4 The Hun Speech

Pre‑World War I political correctness was nonexistent, and Wilhelm earned notoriety for his unfiltered tirades. Historian Barbara Tuchman dubbed him “the possessor of the least inhibited tongue in Europe.”

He coined the anti‑Asian term “Yellow Peril” in the 1880s after a dream of a Buddha‑riding dragon threatening the West. Later, he warned his cousin Tsar Nicholas II that a secret Japanese army of 10,000 men hid in southern Mexico, poised to seize the Panama Canal—fueling his belief in an imminent “Yellow vs. White” racial war.

On 27 July 1900, addressing troops bound for the Boxer Rebellion, Wilhelm ranted: “Should you encounter the enemy, he will be defeated! No quarter will be given! Prisoners will not be taken! … May the name German be affirmed in China so that no Chinese will ever again dare to look cross‑eyed at a German.” He likened the Germans to Attila’s Huns, a comparison his diplomats erased from official transcripts.

Nevertheless, the phrase stuck, and Allied propaganda during World I dubbed Germans “Hun” to emphasize their perceived ruthlessness.

3 The Daily Telegraph Affair

Wilhelm’s knack for diplomatic blunders peaked in October 1908 when he granted an interview to the Daily Telegraph, hoping to soothe British anxieties over his naval buildup. Instead, his volatile remarks inflamed the British: “You English, are mad, mad, mad as March hares.” He accused Britain of mistrust, complained that German anti‑British sentiment “taxes my patience severely,” and suggested the French and Russians had egged him on to side with the Boers.

He also hinted the naval expansion targeted Japan, not Britain, thereby antagonising three major powers in a single interview. The fallout was swift: Wilhelm had handed the transcript to Foreign Minister Bernard von Bülow, who passed it to a busy state secretary’s editor who merely proofed form, not content. Bülow, indifferent, sent it to the Telegraph, leading to an international uproar.

Bülow’s half‑hearted defense failed, and Wilhelm, feeling betrayed, replaced him with Theobald von Bethmann‑Hollweg. The episode underscored the Kaiser’s inability to control his own words and the disastrous diplomatic ripple effects of his impulsive style.

2 Panicked By War

When the world teetered on the brink of the most devastating conflict in history, Wilhelm found himself in a panicked frenzy. Scholars still argue over his exact culpability, but while he welcomed war as a vehicle for German dominance, evidence suggests he preferred a limited conflict, not a global cataclysm.

He desperately sought British neutrality if Germany attacked France and Russia. The war might have ignited during the 1912 Balkan crisis, had Germany not backed off when Britain declared support for France. In July 1914, amid frantic mobilisations, Wilhelm proposed abandoning the French front temporarily to concentrate forces against Russia.

General Helmuth von Moltke, who had spent his life preparing for “Der Tag” (the decisive day) against France, was moved to tears by Wilhelm’s meddling. Moltke argued that reversing the army’s direction was impossible: the German railway timetable was a clockwork marvel—11,000 trains timed to pass specific tracks every ten minutes. The best minds of the War College, assigned to railway logistics, had reportedly ended up in asylums for the stress.

Nevertheless, Moltke may have exaggerated; post‑war evidence shows such a reversal was technically feasible. Had Wilhelm’s suggestion been heeded, the war’s trajectory could have shifted dramatically.

Ultimately, Wilhelm lost grip on the inexorable mobilisation machinery, becoming a passenger in the vortex he helped create. While some historians argue he was not the primary instigator, he was undeniably an accomplice, later sidelined by his generals as the conflict spiraled. By autumn 1918, defeat was inevitable, and Wilhelm abdicated on 10 November, fleeing to the Netherlands.

1 Exile

Wilhelm settled in Doorn, a 17th‑century manor he purchased from Baroness Heemstra of Beaufort—later aunt to actress Audrey Hepburn. His English cousin, King George V, denounced him as “the greatest criminal in history.” Yet Queen Wilhelmina of the Netherlands, another relative, refused to extradite him for war‑crime trials, prompting the Allies to threaten a blockade of the Dutch kingdom.

His belongings from Berlin and Potsdam arrived in 59 railway carriages; the last crates weren’t opened until 1992. At Doorn, Wilhelm entertained guests who shared his dream of restoring the monarchy. A perpetual conspiracy theorist, he claimed Jews, Freemasons, and Jesuits plotted world domination, even proposing the gassing of Jews to eliminate their “nuisance.”

He continued his tirades, branding the French as a feminine race opposite the masculine Germans, and after a 1923 lecture, bizarrely concluded the British and French were racially black rather than white. Paradoxically, he was horrified by the Nazi‑led Kristallnacht in November 1938, declaring, “For the first time in my life, I am ashamed to be German.”

When Hitler’s blitzkrieg seized France in 1940—accomplishing in weeks what Wilhelm had failed to do in four—he sent the dictator a telegram: “Congratulations, you have won using my troops.” He hoped Hitler would reinstate his throne, but Hitler, who despised Wilhelm, refused. Disillusioned, the Kaiser stipulated that his body not return to Germany until the monarchy was restored, and that no Nazi symbols appear at his funeral. The Nazis ignored him, draping Doorn with swastikas as Wilhelm died on 4 June 1941. His mummified remains still lie in the Doorn mausoleum, a lingering echo of a monarch whose mad tales continue to fascinate.

Here are 10 bizarre tales of the First Emperor’s relentless quest for immortality. Qin Shi Huang was a ruler unlike any the world had ever seen. He rose his armies against every kingdom around him and conquered them all. He became the first emperor of a united China, and he left his mark on the world. He started the Great Wall, built the Terracotta Warriors, and left behind a legacy unlike any before.

10 Bizarre Tales Overview

10 He Had All Scholars Focus on Making an Elixir of Immortality

Qin Shi Huang feared that the people would rebel against him. If they learned about the past, he believed, they might long for a different time—and so he had every book of history, poetry, and philosophy gathered up and burned.

Some believe, though, that this was about more than controlling the people. Qin Shi Huang wanted every wise mind in China working on one thing: the secret of immortality. After all, he could not have strong minds wasting time on poetry when they could be helping him cheat death.

He had several alchemists put to work developing the elixir of immortality, but that, of course, was an impossible task. When two alchemists admitted they could not do it, Qin Shi Huang became furious. Every intellectual, he ordered, must suffer.

For failing to make him immortal, Qin Shi Huang had 460 scholars buried alive. These men, Qin Shi Huang declared, claimed to be sorcerers. If they really had magic powers, then they could bring themselves back to life.

9 He Sent 6000 Virgins off to Find the Mountains of Heaven

As his scholars had failed him, Qin Shi Huang traveled to Zhifu Island, where he had heard that a man could find the secret to eternal life. There he met the magician Xu Fu, who assured him that it could be done.

Xu Fu promised him that the elixir of immortality was waiting for him on Penglai Mountain. This was not a real place—it was the mythical home of the Eight Immortals, and a pathway to the gods. Here, Xu Fu told the emperor, lived a 1,000‑year‑old magician named Anqi Sheng who would share the secret.

Qin Shi Huang was pleased. He gave Xu Fu a fleet of ships and let him sail out in search of the elixir of immortality. And, soon, Xu Fu returned, insisting that he had found it. The island of the immortals, Xu Fu said, was full of grass that would give the emperor eternal life—but the immortals demanded a sacrifice. He needed to bring 6,000 virgins to get the elixir.

Qin Shi Huang believed him, and he gave him what he needed. For the next eight years, Xu Fu did not go anywhere near the emperor—he just sailed around the sea with 6,000 virgins, while Qin Shi Huang patiently awaited an elixir that would never come.

As mystical as the story sounds, there is evidence that suggests it is true. On Zhifu Island, Qin Shi Huang etched the words, “Arrive at Fu and carved the stone”—an engraving that is still there today.

8 He Forbid Anyone from Using First‑Person Pronouns

Qin Shi Huang was convinced that he was going to become an immortal god. He even labeled himself one. After uniting China, he threw away the old title of “king” and took a new one: “huangdi.” It is a word we usually translate to “emperor,” but that is not quite accurate—it really means “god.”

He also made it law that, from now on, no one could use the first‑person pronoun “zhen.” Now that all kings had bowed down before him, he declared, no one else could refer to themselves with a term that conferred respect. From now on, every Chinese citizen would have to refer to themselves with the word “wo,” a word that, at the time, meant, “this worthless body.”

After Xu Fu had promised him immortality, though, even Qin Shi Huang stopped using the word “zhen.” Now, he declared, he must be called “The True Man”—a title that told the world that he had become immortal.

7 He Made Decoys Ride in His Carriage

To become immortal, though, Qin Shi Huang would have to stay alive until Xu Fu came back. This was not a sure thing. There had already been many attempts on his life, and he had made many enemies on the path to becoming emperor. He lived in fear of his own death at every moment—and so, when he traveled, he started putting a decoy in his royal carriage.

It ended up saving his life. A man named Zhang Liang was plotting his death. Zhang Liang was a man destined to become the chancellor to the Han king until Qin Shi Huang conquered the Han kingdom and reduced its nobles to nothing. Zhang Liang wanted revenge.

He teamed up with China’s strongest man, Gan Ba, who dragged a 160 lb (72.5 kg) hammer up to the top of a hill and waited for Qin Shi Huang to pass by. When the royal carriages came close, Gan Ba hurled the massive hammer at the royal carriage. The massive iron weight shattered it into pieces and killed everyone inside.

Qin Shi Huang, though, wasn’t inside. He was behind it, in an undecorated carriage that looked to be made for a commoner. His guards rushed into action, but Gan Ba tackled them head on, giving up his own life so that Zhang Liang could escape.

6 He Travelled through a System of Tunnels to Avoid Going Outside

In his later years, Qin Shi Huang stopped going outside altogether. Unless it was absolutely necessary, he would no longer risk stepping out into the open air. Instead, he had a system of tunnels and underground pathways set up at his castle to make sure he never had to go outside.

He lived in a massive complex that was more than a third of a mile long—in its time, one of the biggest in the world. It held a massive palace surrounded by ten buildings, connected through walkways. These were majestic, heavenly things. One was an elevated walkway that crossed over a river, designed to look like the Milky Way shining in the sky.

In part, he was afraid of assassins, but it was more than that. Death itself was outside waiting for him, Qin Shi Huang believed. He stayed inside of his castles and his tunnels so that he could not be seen by the dark spirits that were searching for him.

5 A Meteor Fell to the Earth Prophesising His Death

One year before the emperor died, a meteor fell to the earth. On its own, this could have been seen as an omen, but this was more than just a rock. On the rock that fell from the sky were inscribed the words: “The First August Emperor will die and his land will be divided.”

The Emperor was a superstitious man, but even he did not think the message was really engraved by the gods. He was sure that somebody had carved the rock after it landed, and he wanted to know who. He demanded that the person responsible confess, or everyone would pay.

When no one came forward, he had every single person who lived near the place where the meteor landed rounded up, thrown in prison, and executed. He even had his men get the meteor itself and destroy it in a fire.

Even then, though, it still bothered him. Reportedly, after giving the order to kill every person there, he called in his musicians and had them play him songs about his immortality.

4 He Fought a Sea Monster for Immortality

After the meteor landed, Qin Shi Huang grew impatient. He sailed off to Zhifu Island once more to find Xu Fu, the magician who had promised him an elixir of immortality.

Xu Fu assured him that he had found Penglai Mountain. Now, though, the path was blocked by a great sea monster, and he had no way to get through. This time, though, Qin Shi Huang would not wait around any longer. He would get a team of archers, he told Xu Fu, and kill the sea monster. This time, Xu Fu was not going to be trusted to go alone. The emperor was coming with them.

Qin Shi Huang and his team of archers sailed into the water, where they found a massive fish they believed to be a sea monster—which, today, is believed to have been a whale. The archers opened fire and killed it. When it was done, Qin Shi Huang returned to Zhifu Island and left a message that is still there today: “Came to Fu, saw enormous stone, and shot a fish.”

Xu Fu didn’t have any excuses left. He was to get the elixir from the immortals, Qin Shi Huang ordered, and return immediately, or else he would face the consequences.

Xu Fu assured the emperor he would do it. Then he gathered up his 6,000 virgins, put them in his ships, and sailed off—and never came back. With no way to keep the act up, he fled to Japan and spent the rest of his life in hiding.

3 He Poisoned Himself with Mercury

Xu Fu never delivered the elixir of immortality, but Qin Shi Huang did not give up. He had his alchemists make him every medicine they could to keep him healthy and alive, and he drank everything they told him would work—including a bottle full of mercury.

Qin Shi Huang was making a tour around his kingdom when the mercury killed him. He had brought a vial of it with him, which his court doctors had assured him was an “immortal medicine.” Instead, though, it cut his life short, killing him when he was only 49 years old.

Qin Shi Huang was a two‑month journey away from home, and his chancellors were afraid about what might happen when the people found out he was dead. His advisor, Li Si, was determined to hide that the emperor had died. For the next few months, he pretended Qin Shi Huang was still alive, sending out orders of his own that he claimed came from the emperor.

Meanwhile, the immortal emperor’s dead body was sent home, flanked by carts full of rotting fish to hide the smell of his decaying remains.

2 He Tried to Become The God‑Ruler Of Hell

If Qin Shi Huang could not be immortal, he was not going to accept being a peasant in hell. He was determined to become the ruler of the afterlife, and he got ready for it.

Before he even became the emperor, he had started work on his tomb. By the time he died, he had forced 700,000 enslaved laborers to work on it. His tomb was incredible. It had replicas of his palaces and towers, flowing rivers of mercury, and a ceiling full of jewels that recreate the night sky.

And it had the Terracotta Warriors. Qin Shi Huang believed that, when he died, the six states he had defeated would rise up against him in the afterlife. And so he had his army remade out of terracotta to protect him in hell and help him conquer the world of the dead.

Traps were set up to keep anyone from getting in and disturbing the emperor’s resting place. The tomb was buried and seeded with grass and trees to keep anyone from ever finding it. And, to make sure that no one would ever find it, the workers who made it were forced to seal themselves in and die with the emperor inside his tomb.

1 He Did Not Choose a Successor

Qin Shi Huang had not planned on dying. He did not even like to think about it—and so he never sat down and wrote a will. He was determined, after all, to live forever, and so he saw no need.

With no will, it was not clear who was to take the throne, and the nation soon erupted into chaos. His eldest son Fusu was the obvious choice, but Qin Shi Huang’s advisor, Li Si, did not trust him. To keep Fusu out, Li Si forged a fake order declaring the second son, Huhai, the new emperor. Then he forged another, ordering Fusu to commit suicide.

The boys obeyed the orders they believed came from their father, and Huhai became the second emperor of China. His reign did not last long. Li Si and his co‑conspirators soon turned against each other, and one had Li Si arrested and executed.

Li Si’s death was horrible. His nose, hands, feet, and genitals were chopped off, one‑by‑one, before he was finally cut in half down the waist. Then every member of his extended family, down to the third generation, was executed. Without Li Si, Huhai was unable to stop his people from rebelling, and he was soon overthrown.

In life, Qin Shi Huang had insisted that his dynasty would rule over China for 10,000 generations—but, after his death, it did not even last three years.

When cinemas put ancient rulers on the silver screen, they usually stretch the truth until it snaps like an over‑cooked noodle. Filmmakers love to swap nuance for spectacle, turning complex lives into cartoonish villains or heroic caricatures. In the case of Emperor Commodus, the real story is so wildly extreme that even Hollywood had to tone it down. Below are the ten most jaw‑dropping, absolutely insane facts that the film *Gladiator* left out of the script.

10 He Nearly Bankrupted Rome by Playing Gladiator

10 Insane Facts Unveiled: Gladiatorial Mayhem

We’ve already hinted at Commodus’ obsession with stepping into the sand as a gladiator, but the scale of his cruelty was truly staggering. He would strip down, stride into the arena, and brutally smash disabled opponents—people who could barely hold a shield—right before a cheering crowd of Roman citizens. This wasn’t a hobby; it was a full‑blown blood sport that left the empire reeling.

Unlike ordinary gladiators, Commodus treated every bout as a personal vendetta. He summoned professional fighters to his palace for private practice sessions, where refusing to lose meant a swift, often fatal, retribution. Victors left with shattered noses or missing limbs, while the unlucky never saw daylight again. Even when a challenger tried to spare his foe, Commodus would halt the mercy, bind the combatants together, and force them to fight to the death, refusing any chance of release.

The financial fallout was just as dramatic. Every appearance in the arena cost the Roman treasury a cool million sesterces, a sum that drained the state’s coffers. His relentless appetite for blood didn’t merely claim lives—it also accelerated Rome’s slide toward economic ruin, pushing the empire ever closer to collapse.

9 He Served Two People at a Banquet

Commodus’ depravity didn’t stop at the arena; it seeped into every corner of daily life, especially his twisted sense of entertainment. He was fascinated by the physically disabled, once forcing men with dwarfism to duel each other with cleavers for the amusement of his guests. That was merely a prelude to his most bizarre banquet stunt.

During an opulent dinner party, Commodus ordered his servants to unveil a silver platter that held two hunchbacked men, each slathered in mustard. The guests gasped as the living “centerpiece” was presented, naked and coated in the condiment, forced to sit there like a grotesque garnish for the entire feast. The emperor never intended to eat them; the spectacle itself was the feast.

These macabre displays underscored a ruler who treated human beings as props, turning even a simple meal into a theater of cruelty that left his elite guests both horrified and oddly entertained.

8 He Renamed the Months of the Year After Himself

Commodus’ ego was a force of nature, propelling him to believe he was a living deity—specifically the Greek demigod Hercules. He even had the massive head of the Colossus of Nero replaced with his own likeness and pressured the Senate to officially proclaim him a god while he roamed Rome in a lion‑skin cloak to reinforce the Hercules persona.

His self‑aggrandizement went further than statues. He renamed the city of Rome to “Commodiana” and its citizens to “Commodiani.” In a bid to cement his legacy, he altered the calendar itself, assigning each month a variation of his name. August became “Commodus,” September turned into “Hercules,” and the remaining ten months were each rebadged with one of his many self‑bestowed nicknames.

These linguistic overhauls were more than vanity; they were a calculated attempt to rewrite history in his own image, ensuring that every day of the year whispered his name.

7 He Fed His Friends to Animals

Power can corrupt even the youngest minds, and Commodus proved that early. Born while his father ruled, he was steeped in authority from the moment he could walk. This upbringing twisted him into a sociopathic ruler who delighted in cruelty.

According to contemporary Roman gossip, any child who dared mock the pre‑teen emperor was instantly cast into the arena’s beasts. Even a slave who gave him a too‑cold bath met a grisly end. Commodus also indulged in morbid experiments, slicing open a plump man’s abdomen with scalpels just to see what lay beneath—an act his teachers were forced to watch, lest they become his next subject.

These early displays of savage curiosity foreshadowed a reign defined by unchecked brutality, where the line between ruler and monster blurred beyond recognition.

6 He Repeatedly Threatened to Kill His Senators

Commodus loathed the Senate, viewing its members as obstacles to his absolute power. To remind them of his dominance, he erected a towering statue outside the Senate house—a bronze archery figure pointing an arrow directly at the building, a constant visual threat every time a senator entered the chamber.

His intimidation tactics grew even more theatrical. While battling beasts in the arena, he brandished a freshly decapitated ostrich head, holding it aloft with a blood‑stained sword, staring down the senators with pure animus. Meanwhile, the headless ostrich waddled wildly behind him, adding a bizarre, chaotic backdrop to his display of menace.

These overt threats underscored a ruler who preferred fear over diplomacy, constantly reminding Rome’s governing elite that crossing him could end in a swift and gruesome demise.

5 He Devalued Roman Currency

Beyond his personal atrocities, Commodus contributed to the empire’s downfall by financially destabilizing Rome. He dramatically reduced the gold and silver content in the empire’s coins, making each piece lighter and far less valuable—a literal devaluation that eroded public trust in the currency.

While Nero had previously tinkered with the monetary system, Commodus took the practice to unprecedented levels, slashing the metal content far beyond any prior emperor’s actions. This reckless policy sparked inflation, crippled trade, and left ordinary Romans scrambling for reliable wealth.

Contemporaries lamented the shift, noting that Rome had moved “from a kingdom of gold to one of iron and rust,” a poetic yet stark description of the empire’s economic decay under his rule.

4 He Shirked His Duties

Commodus had little interest in the day‑to‑day responsibilities of an emperor. Almost immediately after ascending the throne, he delegated the bulk of governmental work to his trusted aide, Perennis, while he indulged in the pleasures of a king‑like existence.

When not overseeing the arena, Commodus retreated to a personal brothel, maintaining a harem of roughly three hundred concubines. He amassed these women by ordering soldiers to seize the most beautiful females they could find, forcing them into his palace. His sexual proclivities extended further: a young boy was compelled to rename himself “The Boy Who Loves Commodus” and share his bed in the nude, while even his own sisters were rumored to be conscripted into his harem, one taking his mother’s name.

The arrangement faltered when Perennis, realizing Commodus’ indifference, attempted to eliminate his emperor. The plot failed; Commodus survived, Perennis was executed, and a new subordinate, Cleander, stepped into the power vacuum. Yet Commodus never returned to governance, slipping back into his decadent lifestyle.

3 He Betrayed His Friends

Cleander, the man who performed the bulk of Commodus’ administrative work, found himself in dire straits when Rome suffered a severe grain shortage. Papirius Dionysius, the grain overseer, shifted blame onto Cleander to protect his own position, sparking a mob clamoring for the official’s death.

Seeking refuge, Cleander fled to Commodus, who initially sheltered him within his palace. However, his mistress Marcia persuaded the emperor to abandon his friend, urging him to surrender Cleander to the angry crowd. Commodus obeyed, ordering the execution of his once‑trusted ally.

The betrayal didn’t end there. Commodus displayed Cleander’s severed head on a spear for the mob to see, then ordered the murder of Cleander’s family, friends, and even his children. He forced the mutilated bodies of the children to be dragged through Rome’s streets, dumped into sewers, and left to rot—an unthinkable act of cruelty that shocked even the most hardened Romans.

2 He Slaughtered an Entire Family for Being Wealthy

The Qunctilii clan, a prosperous and respected Roman family, fell victim to Commodus’ indiscriminate bloodlust. Though they never betrayed him, their wealth and influence made them a perceived threat to his absolute rule.

Commodus dispatched his soldiers to annihilate the entire household, nearly erasing the lineage from history. Only a single survivor, a boy named Sextus Condianus, escaped by a daring ruse: he filled his mouth with hare blood, then deliberately fell from his horse, spitting the crimson liquid to feign a fatal injury. Believing the boy had perished, his assassins abandoned him, allowing him to flee into the wilderness.

Condianus survived by living in disguise, constantly evading the bloodhounds Commodus sent after him, a stark reminder of the emperor’s willingness to eradicate any potential rival, regardless of innocence.

1 He Tried to Kill the Woman He Loved Most

Marcia, Commodus’ confidante and arguably his one true love, wielded significant influence over the emperor. He consulted her on matters of state, treated her as a partner, and respected her counsel—until she opposed his most audacious plan.

Commodus intended to declare himself the sole supreme dictator, eliminating the Senate entirely and ruling from the gladiatorial barracks. He envisioned announcing this coup while cloaked in gladiatorial armor, flanked by fierce fighters. Marcia warned him that such a move would doom Rome, pleading for restraint.

Enraged by her dissent, Commodus ordered her assassination. However, a young slave named “The Boy Who Loves Commodus” tipped her off, allowing her to escape. In retaliation, Marcia conspired with other conspirators to poison Commodus. He vomited the poison, but while cleaning himself in a bath, a wrestler called Narcissus was sent in to strangle him. Thus, the emperor met his demise—choked by a naked man while scrubbing vomit from his body.

If you thought every Roman ruler had a few out‑of‑the‑ordinary anecdotes, 10 facts show that Caligula takes the cake for sheer, unbridled madness. Historians from Suetonius to Cassius Dio agree: the third emperor of Rome was a textbook case of a leader who let power warp his perception of reality.

Six ancient chroniclers documented his reign, each painting a portrait of a man who turned the imperial palace into a stage for bizarre spectacles, divine delusions, and cruelty that bordered on theatrical. Below, we unpack the most jaw‑dropping stories, ranked from the most extravagant to the downright terrifying.

10 Facts Show Highlights

10 He Invited His Horse To Drink Wine At His Dinner Table

Caligula may never have officially appointed his prized stallion Incitatus as a consul, but he certainly treated the animal as if it were a member of the Senate. Contemporary Roman writers recount that Incitatus enjoyed a marble stable, a jeweled collar, and a retinue of slaves who obeyed his every whinny.

At banquet time, the emperor would roll out a golden goblet for the horse, pouring the finest wine and offering a toast to the creature’s health. The scene was so lavish that soldiers were even dispatched to hush the cheering crowds at the games, under penalty of death, so Incitatus could dine in peace.

Beyond the wine‑filled feasts, the horse had a full‑size, multi‑room house, complete with furniture, a personal staff, and a level of comfort that most Roman nobles could only dream of. Caligula’s devotion to his equine companion remains one of the most vivid illustrations of his eccentricity.

9 He Tried To Replace The Head On The Statue Of Zeus With His Own

Caligula’s ambitions stretched far beyond the marble walls of Rome; he wanted to be worshipped as a living deity. He commissioned temples where golden statues of himself stood, urging subjects to bow and offer prayers. Yet his grandest, most audacious plan involved the ancient wonder of Zeus at Olympia.

According to the sources, the emperor plotted to decapitate the famed statue of Zeus and replace the god’s visage with his own likeness. He even organized a priestly order to perform lavish rituals, demanding exotic sacrifices such as flamingos and peacocks to honor his self‑deification.

His hubris nearly sparked a full‑blown revolt when he ordered the governor of Syria, Petronius, to erect a colossal statue of Caligula inside the Jerusalem Temple. The Jews, incensed, prepared for rebellion, only to be pacified when Caligula relented—though he later beheaded Petronius for his perceived weakness.

8 He Ordered His Army To Attack The English Channel

Legend has it that Caligula declared war on Neptune, the sea god, and sent his legions to “stab” the English Channel. While the tale is likely embellished, there is solid evidence that he marched his troops to the shoreline, promising them a bizarre reward.

Facing a faltering campaign against the Britons and a disgruntled army whose pay had been slashed, Caligula promised that each soldier could fill his helmet with seashells, pebbles, and any other oceanic “spoils” they could gather. He framed the operation as a lucrative alternative to their unpaid wages.

In his characteristic theatrical style, the emperor urged his men, “Go your way happy! Go your way rich!” as they collected shells from the tide, turning a military maneuver into a surreal, almost comical, treasure hunt.

7 He Ordered A Mass Execution Because He Thought People Were Praying Against Him

When Caligula seized the throne, he welcomed back many of Tiberius’s political enemies, even inviting one to a private audience. The exiled aristocrat proudly declared, “I constantly prayed to the gods that Tiberius would die and you would become emperor.”

Instead of a compliment, the emperor interpreted the remark as a threat. He ordered a sweeping purge of everyone he had ever exiled, fearing they might be plotting against him from beyond the grave. From that point forward, any new adversary met a gruesome fate, their corpses paraded before Caligula each night as a morbid trophy.

This policy of perpetual bloodshed cemented his reputation for cruelty, as the emperor turned the act of exile—once a relatively humane punishment—into a death sentence for countless Romans.

6 He Built Massive Floating Orgy Palaces

Caligula’s opulence knew no bounds, especially when it came to pleasure. He commissioned two enormous pleasure barges on Lake Nemi, each a floating palace adorned with jeweled prows, glass‑mosaic floors, and sails of rare purple silk—the color reserved for imperial robes.

The ships housed towering statues, golden goblets, and an endless supply of wine, turning them into moving venues for decadent orgies. The emperor’s favorite guests were his own sisters, but he also forced noblemen to bring their wives, inspecting them before selecting a favorite to accompany him to the bedchamber.

During these lavish gatherings, Caligula would sit with the chosen woman, then return to her husband for a detailed “review” of her performance, turning intimate moments into a twisted display of power and control.

5 He Rode A Horse Across A Gulf Just To Prove A Fortune‑Teller Wrong

Before his reign, the astrologer Thrasyllus predicted that Caligula had “no more chance of becoming emperor than of riding a horse across the Gulf of Baiae.” Determined to silence the prophecy, the future emperor ordered a colossal floating bridge spanning five kilometres of water.

He gathered every available ship, laid a bed of earth across their decks, and created a sturdy causeway. Then, astride his favourite steed, Caligula rode back and forth for two full days, flaunting his triumph over the seer’s grim forecast.

The stunt was less about transportation and more about theatrical vindication, a grand statement that no omen could restrain his ambition.

4 He Had An Audience Devoured Alive Because He Was Bored

Roman games traditionally featured executions of criminals for public amusement, with spectators applauding or turning away as the victims met their fate. Caligula, however, took the entertainment to a terrifying new level.

He enacted a decree that no court cases or funerals could be scheduled during the games, ensuring the populace never missed the spectacle. When a lull in executions occurred, he ordered his guards to seize a random segment of the audience and throw them into the arena, releasing ferocious beasts to tear them apart.

This gruesome display satisfied his boredom, turning passive viewers into unwilling participants in a blood‑soaked drama that left the empire shaking.

3 He Wouldn’t Let Anyone Mention Goats Around Him

Caligula’s insecurities extended to his appearance. He was unusually hairless, boasting a bald patch atop his head while the rest of his body was covered in hair. Determined to shield this flaw, he banned the word “goat” in his presence, fearing the animal’s association with hairlessness.

He also reportedly prohibited anyone from greeting him more than once, limiting handshakes to a single encounter before demanding they retreat. Violators faced severe punishment, illustrating how his personal anxieties dictated imperial edicts.

2 He Forced A Man To Drink With Him After Murdering The Man’s Son

When a handsome young noble caught Caligula’s eye, the emperor ordered his immediate execution out of spite. The victim’s father pleaded desperately for his son’s life, only to incite the emperor’s wrath further, prompting a swifter death.

In a cruel twist, Caligula then invited the grieving father to a lavish banquet, forcing him to raise a toast to the very man who had just slain his child. The father was compelled to drink, eat, and accept gifts while watching his son’s corpse being carried away, all under the watchful eye of the sadistic ruler.

Seneca records that the father endured the ordeal with a forced smile, aware that any sign of sorrow could seal the fate of his remaining children.

1 He Threatened To Beat Up A God

Caligula’s delusions extended to the divine realm. He reportedly suffered from severe insomnia, during which night‑time hallucinations plagued him. One night, thunder disrupted a ballet performance, prompting the emperor to storm outside and shout at the god Jupiter.

In a fit of rage, he threatened to physically assault the deity, claiming he would beat Jupiter to death for daring to interrupt his entertainment. This episode, recorded by the philosopher Seneca, underscores the emperor’s profound mental instability.

While some contemporaries may have exaggerated his actions to tarnish his legacy, the sheer volume of bizarre, documented incidents suggests Caligula truly embodied madness, both in private whims and public policy.

Here are 10 interesting facts that shine a light on Wu Zetian, the trailblazing woman who shattered centuries‑old conventions to become China’s first female emperor. From secretarial duties to mystical self‑deifications, her story is a roller‑coaster of ambition, intrigue, and undeniable impact.

10 Interesting Facts Unveiled

10 She Was Emperor Taizong’s Secretary

Born around AD 624 into a prosperous, high‑ranking clan, Wu Zhao benefitted from a father who prized education—a rare privilege for women of her era. When the teenage Wu caught Emperor Taizong’s eye at fourteen, he bestowed upon her the title of cairen (fifth‑ranked concubine) and dubbed her Mei‑Niang, meaning “charming” or “beautiful.”

Despite her concubine status, Wu pursued the arts and music within the palace walls. Her keen intellect and artistic flair attracted Taizong’s attention, eventually earning her a ten‑year stint as his personal secretary. In that role she handled state documents and absorbed the mechanics of governance, knowledge she later wielded to steer her own reign.

9 She Had An Affair With Taizong’s Son To Get Back Into The Palace

When Emperor Taizong passed away in 649, court protocol dictated that his concubines shave their heads and become nuns. Wu, however, refused to disappear. She had already captured the heart of Li Zhi, Taizong’s son who would later ascend as Emperor Gaozong. During a ceremonial visit to Ganye Temple, Wu seduced Li Zhi, urging him to bring her back into the imperial fold.

Empress Wang, Gaozong’s wife, sensed the maneuver. Because Wang could not produce an heir, she urged Wu to abandon the nun’s shaven look, allowing her re‑entry into the palace. Wu’s comeback earned her the rank of second concubine, the zhaoyi.

8 She Used The Death Of Her Daughter To Become Empress

After birthing two sons—Li Hong in 652 and Li Xian in 653—Wu gave birth to a daughter in 654, only to discover the infant strangled in its crib. Wu swiftly blamed Empress Wang, accusing her of jealousy‑driven murder and even leveling witchcraft charges against Wang and her mother.

With Wang and Consort Xiao expelled from the court, Wu ordered their execution. Some accounts claim they suffered brutal mutilation before being drowned in barrels of wine. While the true culprit behind her daughter’s death remains a mystery, many historians suspect Wu herself orchestrated the tragedy to clear her path to the throne.

7 She Killed Anyone Who Was Against Her Position As Empress

Once solidified as empress, Wu unleashed a covert police force to silence dissent. Notably, she targeted Zhangsun Wuji, the brother‑in‑law of Taizong and a trusted ally of Gaozong. When Wuji opposed her rise, she persuaded Xu Jingzong to accuse him of treason, forcing Wuji into suicide.

Later, when Emperor Gaozong suffered a stroke that left him partially blind, Wu assumed many of his duties. Alarmed by her growing influence, Gaozong recruited senior minister Shangguan Yi to depose her. Wu learned of the plot in time and ordered Yi’s execution, cementing her grip on power.

6 She Deposed Her Eldest Son And His Wife To Become Emperor

Following Gaozong’s death in 683, Wu installed her firstborn, Li Hong (Emperor Zhongzong), on the throne. However, Zhongzong’s wife, Lady Wei, quickly began appointing her relatives to high posts, mirroring Wu’s own power‑play tactics.

Unwilling to tolerate another strong‑willed empress, Wu replaced Zhongzong with his younger brother, Ruizong (Li Dan), and later forced Ruizong to abdicate in 690. She then proclaimed herself “Zetian” (Ruler of the Sky) and adopted the surname “Wu,” meaning “military” or “weapon,” thereby founding her own Zhou dynasty.

5 She Considered Herself A Living Buddha

Beyond political dominance, Wu sought divine legitimacy. She commissioned statues of the Maitreya Buddha fashioned in her likeness and proclaimed herself the earthly incarnation of this future savior. In doing so, she also adopted the title Empress Shengsen, meaning “Holy Spirit.”

4 She Was Superstitious And Paranoid

Even as ruler of the second Zhou dynasty, Wu remained deeply wary of officials who might challenge her. She employed an extensive network of secret police to imprison or replace any perceived threat, a practice that some historians label both irrational and strategically shrewd.

Wu also placed great emphasis on omens. When an earthquake raised a mountain, a minister warned it signaled her downfall. Wu dismissed the warning, declaring the mountain a favorable sign, and subsequently exiled the dissenting official.

3 She Had Sexual Relationships With Several Men In The Palace

Even in her twilight years, Wu’s personal life remained lively. She engaged in a liaison with a counterfeit monk named Huaiyi, stirring controversy at court. Later, she became involved with the infamous Zhang brothers, whose companionship distracted her from governing duties.

Eventually, court officials grew fed up with the brothers’ influence. In 705, they were assassinated, Wu was compelled to abdicate, and her son Zhongzong was restored as emperor. Wu spent her final months in retirement, passing away at age 80 or 81.

2 She Was Respected By Women And The Common People

Wu’s policies endeared her to the masses. She championed irrigation projects, reduced taxes for impoverished farmers, and generally improved the livelihood of commoners, earning widespread admiration.

She also championed women’s rights, appointing females to court positions and encouraging scholars to record the deeds of notable women. Her reign opened doors for women to participate in politics and inspired future generations of female leaders, writers, and artists.

1 Her Tombstone Is Blank

Despite her monumental achievements, history remembered Wu primarily as a dowager empress rather than a sovereign ruler. The scandals that shadowed her name led to an unusual posthumous honor: a tombstone left entirely blank.