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16 remarkable moments in the history of the Oscars
When was the first Academy Awards? How many Oscars did Titanic win in 1998? Why did Will Smith slap Chris Rock? Here's everything you needed to know about the history of the most notable event in the film industry calendar...
The Academy Awards were first held in 1929, and each year the film industry awards gold-plated statuettes – commonly called Oscars – in a glittering and star-studded ceremony. Officially the Academy Award of Merit, everyone knows the golden knight holding a sword and standing on a reel of film as Oscar. Cedric Gibbons, art director at movie studio Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, gets the credit for designing the statuette but not for naming it. Read more | The best historical movies of all time There are three theories. Hollywood journalist Sidney Skolsky always maintained he thought it up as a less-grandiose antidote to the pretentiousness of the award ceremony. Meanwhile, actor Bette Davis claimed she once remarked the statuette’s backside resembled that of her husband, Harmon Oscar Nelson. The most likely winner, however, is Margaret Herrick, a librarian at the Academy, who said the knight (not just his rear) looked like her uncle Oscar. But how much do you really know about the history of the awards themselves, and the dramatic moments that have played out on the biggest night of the Hollywood calendar? The history of the Oscars: 16 key moments 1929: The first ceremony takes place Founded by Louis B Mayer, head of MGM studios, in 1927, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences was intended as a non-profit organisation with the goal of advancing the film industry. The first Academy Award ceremony took place two years later at the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel, on 16 May 1929. Tickets for the private dinner cost $5 and the presentation ceremony hosted by Douglas Fairbanks (actor and first president of the Academy) lasted just 15 minutes. The film industry was undergoing a dramatic change at the time, with the revolutionary introduction of new sound technology. Although hugely popular ‘talkies’ such as The Jazz Singer (1927) had been released before the first Academy Awards, they were not considered, because it was seen as unfair to compare them to silent movies. Read more | Stars, scandals and the end of silent films The first-ever Academy Award was bestowed upon Emil Jannings, for Best Actor for his leading roles in silent films The Way of All Flesh (1927) and The Last Command (1928). The first-ever Academy Award for Best Picture went to Wings, a 1927 silent movie that told the story of two pilots in love with the same woman. The film cost $2 million to produce, making it the most expensive movie of its time. Up until the release of The Artist in 2011, Wings was the only silent film to win Best Picture. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2022/03/GettyImages-2225661880-bbfceb9-e1773593014852.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="A large banquet hall filled with formally dressed guests seated at long tables during the 1929 Academy Awards dinner at the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel." title="Guests seated at the first Academy Awards banquet, held at the Roosevelt Hotel, Hollywood, on 16 May 1929. The actual presentation ceremony lasted a mere 15 minutes (Photo by Getty Images)" /> 1934: The wrong Frank gets up on stage Arguably one of the most awkward Academy Awards moments happened in 1934, when both Frank Lloyd and Frank Capra were nominated in the Best Director category. Caught up in the excitement of the ceremony, Frank Capra heard Will Rogers, who presented the award, exclaim “Come on up and get it, Frank!” He duly ran up to the stage to claim his award, only to find that it was in fact Frank Lloyd who had won. Capra called the journey back to his chair “the longest, saddest, most shattering walk in my life”, saying “I wished I could have crawled under the rug like a miserable worm. When I slumped in my chair I felt like one. All my friends at the table were crying”. However, Capra’s humiliation didn’t last long: he won the Best Director gong the following year for It Happened One Night (1934). 1938: An imposter nabs an Academy Award The Best Supporting Actress Award of 1938 went to Alice Brady for her role in In Old Chicago (1937). However, she was too ill to attend the ceremony. When her award was announced an unknown man took to the stage to collect it, apparently on her behalf. Before anyone realised something was wrong, the man had vanished. The mystery of the imposter’s identity – and what happened to Brady’s stolen statuette – was never solved. Statuettes vanished again in 2000, when crates containing 55 Oscars disappeared from a loading bay. Some 52 of the statuettes were recovered soon after, found by citizen Willie Fulgear, who was rummaging in a bin behind a food store in LA’s Koreatown. According to The New York Times he was looking for boxes to use for an upcoming house move. Astonished by his unexpected discovery, Fulgear told reporters: “I’ve got more Oscars than any of the movie stars”. Investigators believed that the culprits took the Oscars by accident, unaware of the crates’ contents. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2022/03/GettyImages-1247583035-7b2e403-e1773592915263.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="A middle-aged man in a hat stands beside a large skip filled with discarded Oscars campaign leaflets and packaging in a Los Angeles car park." title="Willie Fulgear stands next to the dumpster where he uncovered 55 stolen Oscars statuettes in March 2000. A truck driver was later sentenced to six months in prison for the theft (Photo by Getty Images)" /> 1939: George Bernard Shaw becomes the first person to win an Oscar and a Nobel Prize After winning the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1925, Shaw received an Academy Award for adapting his 1913 stage play Pygmalion into a film script. He didn’t attend the ceremony, however, reportedly saying: “They might as well send some honour to George for being king of England.” 1940: Results are leaked ahead of the ceremony At the first Academy Awards in 1929, the winners had been announced to the public three months previously. However, the following year the Academy decided to create a sense of suspense and instead sent an advanced list of award winners to newspapers, embargoed for publication until 11pm on the night of the Oscars ceremony. Read more | Knights! Camera! Action! Hollywood's obsession with the medieval era This system remained in place for the next 10 years. However, in 1940 the Los Angeles Times broke the embargo and announced the winners in their evening edition, meaning that nominees could find out their fate before turning up at the ceremony. As a result of this fiasco, the following year (1941) the sealed envelope system was introduced and the results became a closely guarded secret. 1940: Hattie McDaniel becomes the first African-American Oscar winner McDaniel made history in 1940 by winning the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress, for her role as ‘Mammy’ in the 1939 Civil War epic Gone With the Wind. However, in the year that McDaniel won, the Oscars ceremony was due to take place in a hotel that upheld a strict racial segregation policy. Film producer David O Selznick reportedly had to call in favours just to have McDaniel allowed into the building. Despite being the recipient of a major award, McDaniel had to sit at the back of the auditorium on a segregated table away from the rest of her co-stars. McDaniel was also banned from attending Gone With the Wind’s Atlanta premiere because of segregation laws. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2022/03/GettyImages-3248364-8f93e1c-e1773592849432.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="Vivien Leigh as Scarlett O’Hara grips a curtain while Mammy, played by Hattie McDaniel, tightens the laces of her corset in Gone with the Wind." title="Scarlett O’Hara (Vivien Leigh) clutches a bedpost as Mammy (Hattie McDaniel) tightens her corset in Gone with the Wind (1939). McDaniel later became the first African-American actor to win an Academy Award for her role in the film (Photo by Getty Images)" /> 1943–45: Oscar statuettes are made of painted plaster The Oscars statuette, which depicts a knight with a crusader’s sword standing on a reel of film, was designed by MGM’s chief art director Cedric Gibbons in 1929. In the early ceremonies the gongs were made from gold-plated solid bronze, which was later substituted for the pewter-like alloy Britannia metal. However, as the Second World War raged, metal shortages meant that the awards had to be made from alternative materials. Consequently, all awards handed out between 1943 and 1945 were made of painted plaster. When the war was over, all recipients of plaster awards were invited to exchange them for metal ones. 1945: The first Academy Award comes in handy during the Second World War Emil Jannings, winner of the first-ever Academy Award for his performances in silent films The Way of All Flesh and The Last Command (see 1929, above), was ruled out from the new Hollywood talkies because of his thick German accent. Jannings therefore returned to Germany, where he became associated with Joseph Goebbels’ propaganda machine, starring in several films promoting Nazism. When the Allies stormed Berlin in 1945, Jannings reportedly carried his Oscar statuette around with him to win over American GIs and to demonstrate his former allegiance to the US. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2022/03/GettyImages-3273720-0eb23a9-e1773588040173.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="Emil Jannings in military uniform sits between two soldiers in a scene from the silent film The Last Command." title="Emil Jannings (centre) in The Last Command (1928), one of two films that earned him the first Academy Award for Best Actor in 1929. The German star later appeared in Nazi propaganda films and reportedly used his Oscar statuette to convince invading Allied troops of his pro-US sympathies (Photo by Getty Images)" /> 1968: The ceremony is postponed In 1968 the Academy decided to push back the ceremony from 8 April to 10 April following the assassination of Martin Luther King, whose funeral was scheduled for 9 April. In 1981 the ceremony was postponed for 24 hours following an assassination attempt on US president Ronald Reagan, and the 2021 event was also delayed by two months due to the Covid-19 pandemic. 1973: Marlon Brando’s Oscar is rejected by Sacheen Littlefeather Marlon Brando famously refused his Best Actor award for his performance in The Godfather (1972) in protest of Hollywood’s portrayal of Native Americans. He did not attend the ceremony, instead sending Native American activist and actress Sacheen Littlefeather to make a speech in his place. When Littlefeather explained Brando’s actions, the audience was clearly unsure how to react – some people cheered, others booed. A confused Roger Moore, who attempted to present the award, apparently took the statuette home with him after Sacheen Littlefeather refused to accept it. Listen now | Hollywood history: everything you wanted to know Brando was not the first person to have refused an Oscar: in 1936 Dudley Nichols rejected his Best Adapted Screenplay award for The Informer (1935) due to ongoing strike action by the Screen Writers Guild. Later, after receiving a Best Actor nomination for his titular role in Patton in 1971, George C Scott informed the Academy that if he won he intended to refuse the award. Everyone was therefore very surprised to hear him announced as the winner. Goldie Hawn, who presented the award, exclaimed “Oh my god!” when she read the result. Unsurprisingly, Scott did not attend the ceremony, which he reportedly dismissed as a “two-hour meat parade”. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2022/03/GettyImages-515575596-c4b96e8-e1773587308777.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="A black-and-white photograph of Sacheen Littlefeather in a dress and feathered hairpiece speaking to presenters Roger Moore in a tuxedo and Liv Ullmann in an embroidered gown." title="Sacheen Littlefeather remonstrates with presenters Roger Moore and Liv Ullmann at the 45th Academy Awards. The actress and activist had declined the Best Actor award on behalf of Marlon Brando, who refused the accolade in protest at Hollywood’s portrayal of Native Americans (Photo by Getty Images)" /> 1974: Tatum O’Neal becomes the youngest-ever Oscar winner The 10-year-old received an Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress for her role in Paper Moon (1973), in which she starred opposite her father, Ryan O’Neal. She accepted her award wearing a mini tuxedo and platform shoes. 1998: Titanic wins 11 Oscars With 14 nominations and 11 wins, the blockbuster epic Titanic (1997) dominated the Academy Awards in 1998. Starring Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet, it tells the tragic story of the passenger ship that sank on its maiden voyage in 1912. Films with historical settings have long performed well at the Oscars, from 1931’s Best Picture winner All Quiet on the Western Front, through to recent films such as Lincoln (2012), 12 Years a Slave (2013) and Oppenheimer (2024). Other notable historical films that have swept the boards include the 1959 Charlton Heston epic Ben-Hur (11 wins), 1996’s The English Patient (nine wins) and 1939 Civil War drama Gone With the Wind (eight wins). Lawrence of Arabia (1962), Dances with Wolves (1990), Schindler’s List (1993) and Shakespeare in Love (1998) each took home seven awards. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2022/03/GettyImages-153184430-f61cc2c-e1773586809929.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="James Cameron in a black tuxedo stands on the Oscars stage with arms raised triumphantly, mouth open in celebration, while holding an Oscar statuette." title="A triumphant James Cameron raises his Oscar aloft after winning the Best Director award for Titanic in 1998. The blockbuster won 10 other accolades that evening, including Best Picture (Photo by Getty Images)" /> 2002: Halle Berry wins Best Actress – and makes history In March 2002, Halle Berry won the Academy Award for Best Actress for her performance in the romantic drama Monster’s Ball. The film, in which Berry plays the widow of an executed death row prisoner, was critically acclaimed for its depiction of poverty and racism in the American South, with her emotionally charged performance earning most of the plaudits. But the moment carried wider historical significance, too: Berry became the first African-American woman to win the award. The importance of the achievement was not lost on the Ohio-born star, who tearfully dedicated the award to “every nameless, faceless woman of colour that now has a chance because this door tonight has been opened”. But while Michelle Yeoh became the first Asian woman to win the Best Actress award in 2023, Berry remains the only African-American recipient. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2022/03/GettyImages-51093737-bfd9528-e1773586577271.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="Halle Berry in a burgundy embroidered evening gown raises an Oscar statuette while smiling at the microphone, as a tuxedo-clad Russell Crowe applauds behind her on stage." title="Halle Berry accepts the Academy Award for Best Actress for her performance in Monster's Ball, March 2002. Berry remains the only African-American recipient of the award. (Photo by Getty Images)" /> 2010: Kathryn Bigelow becomes the first woman to win Best Director The 82nd Academy Awards saw Iraq War drama The Hurt Locker scooping six gongs, including Best Picture. But arguably the most significant accolade was that awarded to Kathryn Bigelow, who became the first woman to win the Best Director award. There have been two further female recipients since then: Chloé Zhao for Nomadland (2021) and Jane Campion for The Power of the Dog (2022). 2017: La La Land is accidentally named Best Picture instead of Moonlight At the 89th Academy Awards in 2017, romantic musical La La Land and coming-of-age drama Moonlight were in contention for the coveted Best Picture prize, with many commentators suggesting it was a two-horse race between the films. It seemed settled, then, when the ceremony reached its climax and veteran actors Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway – who were presenting the award – opened an envelope apparently revealing that La La Land had been triumphant. The film’s cast and crew, including lead actors Emma Stone and Ryan Gosling, made their way on stage to deliver their acceptance speeches and begin the celebrations. Yet it transpired that Beatty had inadvertently been handed the envelope announcing Stone’s earlier Best Actress win, leaving Dunaway to read out the only film title visible on the card: La La Land. The actual Best Picture envelope – which revealed Moonlight as the true winner – was still in the hands of an accountant from PricewaterhouseCoopers, the firm that oversees the Oscars voting process. Once the blunder became apparent, La La Land producer Jordan Horowitz halted the proceedings and held up the correct card showing that Moonlight had indeed won Best Picture, prompting the film’s stars to come forward and accept the accolade instead. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2022/03/GettyImages-645759516-31a508a-e1773586283673.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="Warren Beatty stands at a microphone on the Oscars stage holding an envelope, while presenters and winners gather around him amid confusion during the 2017 Best Picture announcement." title="Actor Warren Beatty (centre) tells the 90th Academy Awards how an envelope mix-up led to La La Land accidentally being announced as Best Picture winner instead of Moonlight. La La Land still won six prizes at the ceremony, however, including the Best Actress award for Emma Stone (Photo by Getty Images)" /> 2022: Will Smith slaps Chris Rock With the film industry returning to normal following the disruption of the Covid-19 pandemic, the 94th Academy Awards was always likely to be memorable – though not in the way most people expected. Before presenting the award for Best Documentary Feature, comedian Chris Rock made an unscripted joke about Jada Pinkett Smith, who had shaved her head after being diagnosed with the autoimmune condition alopecia areata. Incensed, Pinkett Smith’s husband, Will Smith, strode onto the stage and slapped Rock across the face, before returning to his seat and shouting, “Keep my wife’s name out of your f******g mouth”. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2022/03/GettyImages-1239559037-bcc5989-e1773586126858.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="Chris Rock recoils on the Oscars stage after being struck by Will Smith, who stands beside him in a black tuxedo during the 2022 ceremony." title="Will Smith (right) slaps comedian Chris Rock during the 94th Academy Awards in 2022. The actor and rapper was subsequently banned from all Oscars-related events for 10 years (Photo by Getty Images)" /> The bizarre spectacle prompted speculation that the incident had been staged, but the slap was genuine – and the situation grew more awkward when Smith later returned to accept the award for Best Actor for his role in King Richard. The rapper and former Fresh Prince of Bel-Air star is currently serving a 10-year ban from attending Academy Awards events, due to expire in 2032. This article was first published by HistoryExtra in February 2016
How the work of American folk song collectors inspired The History of Sound
In the early 20th century, armed with new-fangled recording devices, folklorists and ethnomusicologists set out on song-collecting expeditions across the US. Their work documented music that might otherwise have been lost or changed as it was passed on between generations. Jonathan Wright looks at their work and speaks with Oliver Hermanus, director of The History of Sound, about the inspirations from real history that informed the film
Period romance The History of Sound focuses on the relationship between two musicians, Lionel (Paul Mescal) and David (Josh O’Connor). The duo begin an affair at the New England Conservatory of Music in 1917, but their lives diverge with the US’s entry into the First World War. David is drafted to fight on the Western Front. Lionel, whose poor eyesight precludes military service, returns to his family’s modest farm in Kentucky. Post-conflict, the men meet again for a trip across Maine, visiting rural homes to record folk songs on wax phonograph cylinders – sometimes called Edison cylinders after inventor Thomas Edison (1847–1931). But in a film of lost love, there’s no conventional happy ending here. The drama also deals with class, repression, missed opportunities, grief and the way we all time-travel across our own personal histories so that, to quote director Oliver Hermanus, we sometimes find ourselves “having conversations from the past in our heads”. Underpinning the emotional truth of the drama is the filmmakers’ research into the early 20th century – and, more specifically, into the work of those hardy souls who set out to document the traditional music they heard in shacks, on porches and around campfires. View oEmbed on the source website Is The History of Sound a true story? And were Lionel and David real? No, the History of Sound is not a true story – it’s based on Ben Shattuck’s 2018 short story of the same name – however, Paul Mescal’s Lionel and Josh O’Connor’s David are historically plausible figures, despite both being fictional. From the 19th century onwards, men and women on both sides of the Atlantic were fascinated by the folk tradition and set out to catalogue songs, first by collating lyrics and annotating tunes, and later via making recordings. Who were these real-life collectors? In the UK, the major name in the field was Cecil Sharp (1859–1924). Among his many achievements, Morris dancing enthusiast Sharp co-founded the English Folk Dance Society. This later merged with the Folk-Song Society to form the English Folk Dance and Song Society (EFDSS), based at Cecil Sharp House in Camden, London, which remains a centre for those researching folk music. Sharp also collected songs Stateside, in the Appalachian Mountains. However, it’s the Lomax family that’s most associated with song collecting in the US. It was John Lomax (1867–1948) who brought Lead Belly (1889–1949) to wider attention after hearing the folk-blues legend on a visit to Louisiana State Penitentiary, a notorious jail better known as Angola. Lomax was a key figure in building up the Archive of American Folk Song, the first national collection of the country’s folk music. John’s children, Alan (1915–2002), John Jr (1907–74) and Bess Lomax Hawes (1921–2009) were also important folklorists. Some American collectors specialised in particular locales. Several names are particularly associated with Maine, where David and Lionel go collecting in The History of Sound. They include Fannie Hardy Eckstorm (1865–1946), who documented the music and culture of working people and Penobscot Native Americans, and field recordings pioneer Robert Winslow Gordon (1888–1961), born in Bangor, Maine and the first head of the Archive of American Folk Song. Read more | The great American U-turn: from isolationism to WW1 combatants Why was this work important? Generations of musicians have benefited from their work. What’s come to be known as the American Folk Revival began in the 1940s. Along with Lead Belly, important early figures included Woody Guthrie (1912–67), who in 1940 wrote ‘This Land is Your Land’ as a riposte to what he saw as the jingoism of Irving Berlin’s ‘God Bless America’, and the tireless activist Pete Seeger (1919–2014). Many figures in the revival were associated with left-wing politics. Guthrie’s guitars in the 1940s bore the legend, “This machine kills fascists.” Seeger was blacklisted during the McCarthy era. In the 1960s, another generation picked up the baton, which had metaphorically been left in Manhattan’s coffee houses. It may be an exaggeration to suggest that, without song collectors, we wouldn’t have had Joan Baez or Bob Dylan, but these artists’ careers, and our shared cultural history, would have been very different. Building the world of The History of Sound Jonathan Wright spoke to the film's director, Oliver Hermanus HistoryExtra: Ben Shattuck adapted his own work, his first screenplay. How did this come about? Oliver Hermanus: It felt like the natural fit. You sensed that Ben had all of the bigger spaces of the story in his head. When you’re adapting a novel into a movie, it’s a process of reduction. In an interesting way, a short story is a more fruitful process because you get to add. It’s a bit like it’s a house, and Ben’s designed the whole house. And the short story is just the front room. When I come along, I want to see the kitchen and the upstairs bedrooms and the bathrooms, and he knows what they look like. How did you go about finding the historical details that help establish the characters? I’ve now made three different films back-to-back, all set in different periods and in different countries. I do love the process of learning. Of course, we make creative decisions about certain things historically, it’s not a documentary. But if you’re making something super-specific, you obviously want to get it right. The Smithsonian was very helpful to us. We were also able to make contact with community research and historical societies in different parts of America, in Kentucky and Maine. They had all sorts of things that we could use, either artefacts or information about how people lived – the size of farms and houses, and the wood people would use to build things. Were there any details that to which you were particularly drawn? At one point, you show a mixed-race community in Maine. That was definitely one of those moments of expansion with Ben. I asked him, “When they go to Maine, what else could they encounter?” Ben immediately suggested this story from Malaga Island. In history, the Malaga Island episode [where an interracial community was evicted from an island off Maine] happened in 1911 [before Lionel and David’s trip in 1920]. But it was one of those moments where you felt that the connection between community and music – and this migration of people from the south of America to the north, and how the music they brought with them might have differed from the music that existed in Maine or Massachusetts and Connecticut – felt like a worthy intersection for the characters to experience. Considering my own background from South Africa [the son of ANC activists and part of a multiracial family living under Apartheid], it felt like something that gave me a sense of connection to American history. Can you tell us a little about the role of folk singer Sam Amidon in shaping the film’s soundtrack? The story was very much Ben’s love letter to this kind of music, its history and its context within the greater American narrative. From the very beginning, there was a playlist of songs that were part of Ben’s childhood and Ben’s life. The interesting thing is that we had loads of songs in this playlist, but we often had the same song done by different people in different times. And so you sensed how melodies and lyrics would be reimagined, re-orchestrated or redesigned. The song ‘In the Pines’ [also known as ‘Where Did You Sleep Last Night?’] became a famous song for Nirvana, but that is a very old American song from the South. We knew that we would never use ‘In the Pines’, which was just too popular, but we wanted to find songs that had stories inside of them that felt like they were echoes of the story of The History of Sound. A lot of them are ballads of misplaced love or loss and grief. We also wanted to have songs that came from the right regions. Sam was very helpful in then taking these different songs and being able to arrange them in a palette that felt tonally appropriate. The History of Sound is in UK cinemas now. It will be available to stream in the UK later in the year.
Could Benedict and Sophie have lived happily ever after? The true history behind Bridgerton's cross-class romance
The fourth season of hit Regency period drama Bridgerton tells the story of second son Benedict’s relationship with Sophie, a lady’s maid in disguise. But could a real romance like this have ever had a happy ending? And are there any figures from history who lived out the upstairs/downstairs fantasy? Felicity Day explains more
We’re back in the candlelit ballrooms of the ton this month for a new series of Netflix’s Bridgerton, this time watching second sibling Benedict waltz his way towards marriage. But his love interest is no debutante expensively dressed by a fashionable modiste, drilled in the latest dance steps and declared a diamond by Queen Charlotte. Sophie Baek is a working lady’s maid in the household of the Bridgerton family’s neighbour, Lady Araminta Gun. It’s an upstairs/downstairs romance that could only ever prosper in the pages of a romantic novel – or so you might think… Were there cross-class romances in the Regency era? In fact, there are several true stories from the late Georgian age that give hope to those wanting to hear wedding bells chiming for Benedict before the end of season four. In early 1789, for instance, it was an open secret in the Banbury area of Oxfordshire one Mr William Wykeham, the young owner of the stately Swalcliffe Park, was besotted with Elizabeth Marsh, who was the cook to the tenants then occupying his ancestral home. As the sun came up on a bright day in early March, he stopped his carriage a discreet distance from the house where she toiled long and hard every day. When she jumped in, he whisked her away from a life in service for good – to the mingled indignation, amusement and anxiety of her employer, MP’s wife Henrietta Wrightson, who shared the news of their flight in a letter to her sister. It was an unlikely match between the teenage nephew of a viscount and the daughter of a Lancashire smallholder – not to mention that Elizabeth was some 18 years senior to her determined suitor. But they went on to wed in a local church not long after their elopement. Their marriage was tragically short, but Elizabeth gave birth to two children, a boy and a girl, before she died in 1792. When William followed her to the grave in 1806, their surviving daughter inherited not only the great house where her mother had once been employed, but another even grander property, too. How exactly the Wykehams became acquainted, let alone able to conduct a courtship, remains tantalisingly undiscovered. But beginning an upstairs-downstairs affair probably wasn’t as difficult as we might imagine. During the Regency era, servants were a constant presence in elite households, living and working in close proximity to the family they served and interacting with their wider social network, too. Footmen and housemaids were in and out of a house’s main rooms all day long, with tasks including greeting and ushering in visitors, carrying messages and bringing tea trays. The former waited on the family and their guests at the dinner table, and were sometimes also responsible for escorting young ladies when they ventured outside the house. The duties of a lady’s maid, meanwhile, often kept her by her mistress’ side; she might accompany her on shopping trips and attend her at balls, and usually travelled with her when she was invited to house parties. Added to that, many servants spent years working for the same aristocratic family, becoming well known to all. The name of Sally, who served as lady’s maid to Henrietta, Countess of Bessborough for almost three decades between the late 18th and early 19th centuries, frequently appears in her ladyship’s letters. As a cook, Elizabeth Marsh had less reason than other servants to venture above stairs. But as William Wykeham appears to have remained a resident in the area after surrendering his stately property to tenants, perhaps he retained the management of his wider estate, giving him business which took him into the house’s servants’ quarters. Or perhaps Elizabeth caught his eye in one of the local villages and he sought her out. She was, after all, “a Very pretty woman” – at least, according to her employer. Masters and maids: a recurring pattern It wasn’t exactly unusual for attractive female servants to catch the eye of a gentleman. But alongside the maids and housekeepers who had sexual attentions forced upon them by employers or members of their households in the 18th and 19th centuries, there were also those who embarked on relationships willingly. Lady’s maid Anne ‘Nanny’ Hawkins may have been one of them. Sir Henry Harpur Crewe’s “unfortunate connection” with her (as described by his mother) began at Eastbourne in southeast England in the summer of 1790, where she was perhaps holidaying with her employers. Anne came to live in a house on his Calke Abbey estate in Derbyshire, initially as his mistress, but then, in 1792, two months after the birth of their first child, Henry married her – despite vociferous opposition from his maternal uncle. His contemporary, the Honourable Frederick ‘Poodle’ Byng (so-nicknamed on account of his thick, curly hair), likewise married Catherine, a lady’s maid (in this case, his mother’s attendant) after she gave birth to his child. It is possible that guilt or honour played a part in such a decision, but few aristocrats who seduced their female servants thought it necessary to marry them if they became pregnant (in the 1860s, one peer was widely called crazy for feeling himself honour-bound to do so). Even a lasting relationship was no guarantee that marriage would be the result. The widowed 3rd Duke of Richmond had three daughters with his housekeeper Mary Blesard in the Regency period. He gave her a smart property in Earl’s Court in London, and in his will provided her with a large annual income and generous dowries for their girls. But he never made her his wife. The fact that the Honourable Frederick did wed Catherine suggests that, as with Sir Henry – who was said to be “violently attached” to Anne in the early stages of their relationship – there may have been an uncommon strength of feeling between them. The lady loves a footman Men, of course, had greater opportunity to become acquainted with women of other social classes and far more opportunity to conduct a clandestine romance, being free of the shackles of chaperonage and the strict parental control that curtailed the lives of their sisters. But that’s not to say that upstairs-downstairs relationships were unknown to the fairer sex. Lady Henrietta Watson-Wentworth, sister of the Marquess of Rockingham, was one of several women who became romantically entangled with a footman. In the mid 18th-century, she and a handsome Irish ex-soldier named William Sturgeon, who was employed at her family’s townhouse in London’s Grosvenor Square, grew close after she began tutoring him in grammar, mathematics and music. Theirs was certainly not the genteel kind of courtship that played out in the ballrooms and opera boxes of Mayfair either, for the unmarried 26-year-old Henrietta became pregnant. Yet it has all the appearance of a love match, for despite knowing her family would regard their union as a scandalous mésalliance, in 1764 the pair were wed secretly in the fashionable St George’s church in Hanover Square, only telling her relations once the knot was safely tied. The couple’s marriage produced five children, saw them set up a pottery business together in Rouen, France, and lasted until Henrietta’s death 25 years later. Could a couple like Benedict and Sophie have a happy-ever-after? Of course, all of these relationships courted great risk, and no such union between aristocrat and servant would have offered guaranteed marital bliss. In marrying her footman, Lady Henrietta not only ruptured relations with her nearest and dearest, who were palpably shocked, but left behind the luxury and security of her aristocratic existence. She also took care to draw up a watertight legal settlement that prevented William from accessing the bulk of her fortune (he was to have only £100 a year for life), and made provision for a possible separation, which stands testament to the risk she knew she was taking. Some wealthy parents even had the power to disinherit sons or daughters who married without their consent. There was also a social cost to cross-class romances. Snobbish as it seems today, the doors to elite houses and entertainment venues would generally have remained stubbornly closed to a spouse raised from such a humble background. There were men of wealth and title who married ex-courtesans, actresses and opera singers, with each perfectly content to host and be hosted by the others’ wives, but the Regency diarist Thomas Creevey gives a glimpse of the difficulties that women like Mrs ‘Poodle’ Byng faced when he wrote cruelly of her: “You know I have the greatest aversion to playing at company with such kind of tits”. The 1825 manual The Duties of a Lady’s Maid, meanwhile, painted a miserable picture for any female servant imprudent enough to dream of a marriage with an upper-class gentleman. “You must always be considered as an intruder” by the gentleman’s friends, it warned, while “he will, probably, look upon your relatives … as unfit associates, and will despise perhaps your very parents.” Unsurprisingly, some couples found it easier to shun society altogether. After Sir Henry and Lady Harpur Crewe married in 1792, they lived in quiet retirement at Calke Abbey, even selling the family’s London house (though neither seemed to have viewed that as a terrible disadvantage, the Baronet having a very solitary nature). Nor did the challenges stop other unlikely couples taking a chance on love, even into the Victorian era as snobbish attitudes around class grew even more entrenched. In the early 1880s, the parents of John ‘Patrick’ Chaworth Musters, heir to the estate of Annesley Park in Nottinghamshire, sent him off to their fishing lodge in Norway with nursery maid Mary Anne, who was pregnant after a clandestine affair. Read more | Was there a real Lady Whistledown? The family presumably hoped that the pair’s mutual ardour would cool. But when Patrick inherited Annesley on his father’s death, he married Mary Anne in 1888 and returned to his estates in 1889, bringing her back as his wife, along with their first four children. A private family history records some nervousness about how the daughter of humble straw-plaiters would fare as the house’s chatelaine, but goes on to report that she proved her doubters emphatically wrong: she became a respected member of county society, not to mention the loving mother of their eleven children. In real history, the fairytale ending to a cross-class romance remained entirely possible, if not always probable. We’ll have to stay tuned to see what awaits Benedict and Sophie, in this season’s trip to Regency London. Felicity Day is the author of The Game of Hearts: True Stories of Regency Romance (Blink, 2024)
Is Amadeus a true story? The real history of Mozart's feud with Salieri
A new Sky Atlantic miniseries revives the tale of Mozart’s supposed rivalry with Antonio Salieri. But how much of it is based on truth?
The Austrian composer Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart stands as one of the most iconic figures in musical history. In his short life, he produced more than 800 works, giving him a firm place in the canon of classical music. Amadeus, a Sky Atlantic miniseries starring Will Sharpe as Mozart, dramatises his ‘golden years’ in Vienna and the rumoured feud between him and fellow composer Antonio Salieri. Is Amadeus a true story? No, Amadeus is not a true story. While Amadeus centres on an assumed rivalry between Mozart and Salieri, the story owes far more to theatre than genuine biography. The miniseries draws heavily on Peter Shaffer’s 1979 play, also called Amadeus, which was inspired by Alexander Pushkin’s 1830 short drama Mozart and Salieri. This was a reimagination of the rumour that Salieri murdered Mozart in a final act of revenge. The miniseries clearly embraces this dramatic tradition, with Paul Bettany’s Salieri declaring: “He [Mozart] had written a masterpiece, and I was nothing but a spectator.” There are strands of truth, however. The miniseries takes place during Mozart’s years in Vienna where he did experience huge success, and when he was married to a woman named Constanze Weber (played by Gabrielle Creevy). He and Salieri did also compete as musicians, but in a way that seemed much more professional than vengeful. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/12/01003Amadeus-ceb6d1c-e1766423415885.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="Paul Bettany's Salieri (left) watched on amid a crowd as his purported rival Mozart (Will Sharpe) dazzles at a piano" title="Paul Bettany's Salieri (left) watched on amid a crowd as his purported rival Mozart (Will Sharpe) dazzles at a piano (Photos credit Sky studios_Adrienn Szabo)" /> Did Salieri murder Mozart? There is no good evidence that Salieri murdered Mozart. Mozart died on 5 December 1791 in Vienna, at the age of just 35. His early death has led to much mythology, including the theory that his rival Salieri murdered him in a final act of revenge. This is likely fuelled by Mozart reportedly believing he had been poisoned while on his deathbed, which led people to blame Salieri. The rumours continued for decades afterwards, and Alexander Pushkin strengthened them with his 1830 play Mozart and Salieri. Templeton addresses this directly, stating “He wasn’t poisoned by Salieri. That’s another myth that we have. He was ill.” There are also rumours of Mozart being buried in a pauper’s grave. “They’re not true,” says Templeton. “He is buried in an unmarked grave in Vienna because that was the custom of the time for ordinary middle-class people.” So how did Mozart die? It remains the subject of speculation, but Templeton puts it down to rheumatic fever, an inflammatory disease affecting the joints. This is in line with what was described on his death certificate as a ‘heated miliary fever’. Read more | Chevalier de Saint-Georges: how the mixed-race musical maestro Joseph Bologne became a star in 18th-century France Who was Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart? Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was born on 27 January 1756 in Salzburg, Austria, and is now famous for his talents as a composer. Some of his most famous operas include The Magic Flute and The Marriage of Figaro, alongside instrumental works including Symphony No. 40 and No. 41 Jupiter, and choral compositions. He was the last of seven children, though only he and his sister Maria Anna (known as Nannerl) survived infancy. As might be predicted, the family were not short of musical talent. His father, Leopold, was a court composer and a highly educated man. As Hannah Templeton explains on this episode of the HistoryExtra podcast, “He taught his children everything they knew musically – but they were also educated in maths, languages, religion… he was a very educated man and he ensured that his children were as well.” Mozart’s brilliance emerged early. By the age of three, he could play keyboard pieces and at five, he was taken to Vienna to perform for Holy Roman Empress Maria Theresa. The success of this performance resulted in a grand tour, where the young Mozart dazzled audiences across Europe. After his return, he was granted an honorary role as Konzertmeister (concert master) of Archbishop Colloredo’s orchestra at the Salzburg Court, later securing a paid position. But his time there grew strained; he and his father clashed with Mozart’s employer Archbishop Colloredo, whom they felt favoured Italian musicians and restricted creative freedom. Seeking greater opportunities, Mozart travelled widely in his early adulthood. His ultimate break came in 1781 when he moved to Vienna, marking the beginning of his ‘golden years’ as depicted in Amadeus. Read more | From a scandalous threesome to classical stardom: the actress who found redemption in Handel’s Messiah Who was Antonio Salieri? Although less famous than Mozart today, Antonio Salieri was an incredibly successful Italian composer during his lifetime. His operas include Armida, Les Danaïdes and Europa Riconosciuta. Also a teacher and subject of the Habsburg monarchy, he was appointed as the director of Italian opera by the Habsburg court and held the post between 1774 and 1792, making him the name in Italian opera in Vienna at the time. But his name stretched beyond Vienna; he performed throughout Europe and wrote for opera houses in Venice, Rome and Paris. ven once his own professional career was waning, Salieri was sought after for his teaching ability. His pupils included Franz Schubert, Ludwig van Beethoven and even Mozart’s son, Franz Xaver Wolfgang Mozart. Were Mozart and Salieri rivals? The idea of a bitter rivalry between Mozart and Salieri owes more to later retellings than reality. As Templeton notes, “They were friendly colleagues. There was a little bit of rivalry there as well, but no more than professional rivalry.” This is a very different picture to Amadeus, where Salieri declares “From this time on we are enemies, you and I.” In real history their relationship could be described more as one of competitors than rivals – a dynamic that would have been encouraged in 18th-century Vienna. Musical contests, including one in 1786 that is often cited as evidence of a conflict between the two men, were standard practice in the court of Holy Roman Emperor Joseph II (sole ruler of the Habsburg monarchy from 1780-1790). In fact, Mozart and Salieri even composed music together. In 1785, they co-wrote the cantata Per la ricuperata salute di Ofelia to celebrate singer Nancy Storace’s recovery. Would two bitter rivals really compose a song together to mark such an event? What was Mozart’s relationship with Constanze Weber? Constanze was Mozart’s wife, but she was not his first choice within the Weber family. He first fell in love with Constanze’s older sister Aloysia, though she did not return his feelings. Years later, while lodging with the Weber family, he began a relationship with Constanze. “The circumstances around which they got together are a little bit unclear,” says Templeton. Rumours might have circulated about their inappropriate behaviour before marriage, and Mozart briefly moved out of the Weber home. Constanze’s mother might have also pressured Mozart to marry her daughter. His early letters also reveal mixed feelings; Templeton notes that Mozart described Constanze as having “no wit, but … enough common sense to enable her to fulfil her duties as a wife and mother”. Despite this rocky beginning, and his father Leopold’s initial disapproval, their marriage seems to have been affectionate and supportive. “By all accounts, those letters read really tenderly [and are] quite witty. They clearly have a really good relationship,” Templeton observes. Tragedy, however, marked their family life. Of their six children, only two survived to adulthood, a stark parallel to the experiences of Mozart’s own parents. Was Mozart a prankster? Mozart did have a reputation as a bit of a prankster. In fact, the same man responsible for beautiful compositions wrote a piece in around 1782 titled Leck mic him Arsch, which means ‘lick me in the arse’ and can be understood in English as ‘kiss my arse’. It didn’t stop there, and he wasn’t afraid to use scatological humour in his correspondence. His mischievousness began early. It would be easy to view the young Mozart travelling around Europe as a serious young prodigy, but stories recount how he would deliberately play wrong notes during concerts to see if the audience would notice. This continued into his adult – and professional – life. For example, he would test the musical abilities of those performing his compositions, writing piano pieces that leapt between high and low notes, intending to frustrate the performer. For more content like this, check out the best historical movies of all time as chosen by historians and ranked by you, and our picks of the new history TV and radio released in the UK this week
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.
The REAL history behind Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit and more
If you thought Lord of the Rings, Rings of Power or The Hobbit was pure fairytale, you would be way off. HistoryExtra's James Osborne explains more
From the epic battles of Beowulf to the myths of Old Norse sagas and the real-world struggles of the Anglo-Saxons, Tolkien’s legendary world was deeply rooted in the past. But how exactly did these influences weave their way into The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit? In this video, we explore the sources that helped Tolkien forge his fantasy masterpiece, uncovering the warriors, monsters, and lost kingdoms that made Middle-Earth feel so real. View Green Video on the source website
Was Robin Hood ACTUALLY real? The history explained
Dive into the myth and historical speculation surrounding Robin Hood, a legendary outlaw famed for stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, as HistoryExtra's David Musgrove presents the real details from history that might have inspired the Sherwood Forest hero
Was Robin Hood one man – or many? In this video, Dr David Musgrove shares some of the medieval rebels who may have inspired England’s greatest outlaw, and discover how history has turned him into a folk hero. Drawing on expertise from Dr Sean McGlynn, Musgrove examines figures such as King Richard the Lionheart and King John to anchor the Robin Hood legend in real history. But the earliest stories don’t depict Robin Hood as particularly kind – in fact, he’s often violent. And his iconic green outfit? A mere invention. From chopping off heads to fighting the French – dig into the real history behind the Robin Hood that has so often featured in Hollywood blockbusters. View Green Video on the source website
The REAL history behind 'All Creatures Great and Small'
Discover the vet who inspired a legacy that is still enjoyed today by fans of PBS America and Channel 5's All Creatures Great and Small
HistoryExtra's Lauren Good explores the life and career of James 'Alf' Wight, and what led him to write about his experiences as a veterinarian in the Yorkshire Dales. From his early years to his struggles with mental illness, this video shines a light on the man who wrote a series of books that would capture the public imagination and go on to sell in their millions. View Green Video on the source website
The Forsytes, a new drama adaptation of John Galsworthy's novels, has landed on British screens, giving viewers a sumptuous look at late Victorian London – a world of dazzling excess and great divide. Historical consultant Dr Victoria Bateman introduces the real historical detail behind the action
By the late Victorian era, having emerged from the Industrial Revolution, Britain was the wealthiest country in the world. Cotton, coal and iron and steel had propelled the island nation from poverty to prosperity, while putting Manchester, Sheffield and Newcastle – along with Scotland and Wales – on the map. In a situation quite the reverse of today, London had been left lagging behind, with the northern regions the far wealthier side of the divide. But the emergence of the ‘City’ as the financial centre of the world was to change this. Home to the London Stock Exchange and the Bank of England, the (quite literal) Square Mile, whose skyline is dominated by St Paul’s Cathedral, forms the backdrop to The Forsytes – Channel 5’s new period drama. Is The Forsytes a true story? No, The Forsytes is adapted by Debbie Horsfield from John Galsworthy’s classic novel series The Forsyte Saga, published in 1922. But as with many historical dramas there are truths underpinning the fiction. The star-studded six-part series follows the fortunes, personal rivalries, and revelries of a wealthy family of stockbrokers in 1880s London. We get to know Jolyon Forsyte, who is reluctantly set to inherit the family firm but whose wife – Frances (played by Tuppence Middleton) – would have it no other way. Waiting in the wings is his cousin and rival, Soames, who considers himself to be a far more worthy heir and who is as hellbent on ‘possessing’ his love interest Irene (played by Millie Gibson) as much as his stocks and shares. From Lady Carteret (played by Susan Hampshire, who won an Emmy Award for the original 1967 series) and the Forsyte matriarch Ann (played by Francesca Annis) to the dressmaker and former maid Louisa, the characters of The Forsytes span the British class system and give us a glimpse of life in a pivotal but often overlooked period of British history. Here are five important real details in The Forystes that true fans of historical drama won’t want to miss… The Forstyes were typical of the changing fortunes of ‘new money’ families As Britain’s economy grew, it created opportunities for stockbrokers, solicitors and property developers – the professional services that could meet the needs not only of industry at home but also of Britain’s growing overseas empire. From Africa and the Americas to Australia and India, railways needed to be built, land developed, and mines sunk – all of which required funds. British investors therefore refocused their energies away from investing at home to investing abroad. And they had deep pockets to do so. In the late 19th century, the amount of savings in London-based bank accounts exceeded the combined savings in the banks of New York, Paris and Germany. By redeploying these savings overseas, Britain became the world’s biggest lender. Stockbrokers like the Forsytes were able to build their own personal wealth by earning commissions on the investments they undertook on behalf of their clients. This meant that Britain’s upper classes – the traditional landed elites – now faced competition, not only from the industrialists of the north but also from ‘city-types’. While being accepted in the most esteemed social circles was a struggle, it was easier for financiers than it was for industrialists, which meant that careful cultivation of social networks could bring social as well as economic dividends for families like the Forsytes. As one etiquette guide noted, referring to the tradition of women being presented to royals at court: “The wives and daughters of merchants, or of men in business (excepting bankers), are not entitled to presentation.” In other words, those working in finance were special. While stockbroking families like the Forsytes had humble roots, they were on the way up. Men like Soames Forsyte really did ‘own’ their wives – but rights were changing In terms of their bodies, married women were considered the property of their husbands in late Victorian Britain. This meant that women were expected to submit to the sexual desires of their husbands. In fact, only in the 1990s did rape within marriage come to be considered a crime under British law. For most of the 19th century, married women also lacked any form of financial control – legally, husbands controlled not only their wives’ property and other assets, but also any wages she might have earned. Changing the law to give married women control over their own money became a central aim of Victorian feminism, successfully achieved in 1882 in the form of the Married Women’s Property Act. By the close of the 19th century, women owned a quarter of stock market shares and a third of government bonds. While stockbrokers were much more likely to be men than women, their clients were increasingly women. Working mothers were demonised, while ‘tradwives’ were celebrated Despite a central role in the workforce during the Industrial Revolution, not only in cotton factories but also in coal mines, women’s opportunities for work narrowed over the course of the 19th century. They were left them with two main options: working as domestic servants or in the cloth industry, including as dressmakers. Neither was particularly well paid and working hours were notoriously long. In The Forsytes, Louisa – Jolyon’s former love interest (played by Eleanor Tomlinson) – had done both types of work. For young working-class women, paid work was – as it had been for centuries – the norm in Late Victorian Britain. But for married women it was a different story. The tradwife was just as much a trend then as it is today, which meant that women were increasingly expected to give up their job upon marriage to instead become the ‘angels in the house’. Housewives were considered virtuous, while working mothers were demonised as neglecting their children. Read more | From family to factory: women's lives during the Industrial Revolution But while the Forstyes could afford for their womenfolk not to engage in paid work, most families were in a very different position. Studying poverty in turn-of-the-century London, the contemporary social reformer Charles Booth found that the ‘male breadwinner’ model was only practical for (at most) thirty per cent of the population. In the average family, wives – and children – needed to earn money in order to pay the rent and avoid starvation. But given that women’s options were shrinking, many women had to resort to informal types of work in order to make ends meet, such as taking in laundry, housing lodgers, or selling hot buns on the side of the street (including in the Square Mile). Women also performed unpaid labour within family businesses. In the case of the Forsyte women, that included the all-important social networking that lifted the family’s reputation – and with it, brought in new clients. Scrutiny of parentage had significant social impact The question of paternal parentage forms a central theme within The Forstyes. At the time, between four and five per cent of children were born out of wedlock and unmarried mothers faced serious social stigma, as did their children. Given that women had less access to well-paid work than their male peers, supporting a family as a single mother would have been either impossible or exceptionally difficult. Watch now | Did Queen Victoria and John Brown have a SECRET child? As a result, many women found themselves with no option other than to give up their children. Avoiding that typically required holding fathers to account – ensuring that they made a (sometimes secret) financial contribution to their child’s upbringing. Of course, most fathers failed to do so and, even when they did, their children were still at a clear social disadvantage compared with their ‘legitimate’ peers. Big bottoms really were fashionable in late Victorian Britain When it came to fashion, the crinoline – a device to hold voluminous hooped petticoats – was out, and the bustle – padding or wire at the back of a dress – was in. Sitting wasn’t always easy with an exaggerated bottom, especially as bustles became bigger. But as usual, Victorian inventors had a solution for everything, which led to the development of the ‘New Phantom’ bustle (patented in 1884). This device collapsed in on itself as the wearer sat back in her chair and then popped back out as she stood up. By the late 1880s, bustles were getting smaller rather than bigger, to the point that a small and simple pad, stuffed with horsehair, sufficed. In the 1890s, the ‘New Woman’ movement, which prioritised health and practicality, took the fashion world by storm, further simplifying the silhouette in what became known as ‘rational dress’. But without the previous appendages, it was necessary to find some other way to protect a woman’s figure, and so skirts were made with heavier materials, sometimes supplemented with stiff petticoats. While fashion evolved dramatically during Queen Victoria’s reign, the object was still the same: maintaining a woman’s bodily modesty. From regional divides and class tensions to tradwives and eye-popping fashion trends, it was in the Late Victorian period that today’s Britain was starting to emerge. Dr Victoria Bateman is author of Economica: A Global History of Women, Wealth and Power and is historical consultant to The Forsytes Series 1 of The Forsytes is available in the UK on Channel 5, and is soon to arrive on PBS Masterpiece in the USA
9 things you might not know about Sherlock Holmes
The fictional detective Sherlock Holmes, created by Arthur Conan Doyle, has for more than 130 years been a star of stage and screen, played by actors including Benedict Cumberbatch and Ian McKellen and serialised in countless books. But how much do you know about this famous crime-buster, who made his first appearance in 1887 in Beeton's Christmas Annual? Here, author Martin Davies shares 11 lesser-known facts about Sherlock Holmes...
1. The first actor to play Sherlock Holmes was American… The first actor to take on the role of Sherlock Holmes in any official capacity was the American William Gillette. His 1899 stage play was adapted from a script by Arthur Conan Doyle himself. Opening six years after the author had attempted to kill off his creation at the Reichenbach Falls, the play was a huge success on both sides of the Atlantic: between 1899 and 1932, Gillette performed the role more than 1,000 times. Gillette is also credited with introducing the curved briar pipe that was to become synonymous with the great detective – possibly because a straight pipe obscured the actor’s face when he delivered his lines. On the podcast | Sherlock Holmes: the real history that inspired the detective stories On first meeting Sherlock Holmes’ creator, Gillette is said to have appeared in character, complete with deerstalker, and after examining Conan Doyle most minutely, to have opined: “Unquestionably an author!” 2. … who introduced a love interest Gillette was also one of the first to annoy the purists by introducing a love interest for Holmes. When he telegraphed Conan Doyle with the question “May I marry him?” the author is said to have replied: “You may marry him, or murder or do what you like with him!” It’s impossible to count the number of writers who, since then, have taken Doyle at his word. Read more | Real-life Sherlocks: the detectives of Scotland Yard and their curious cases 3. He defied death Holmes, having survived the Reichenbach Falls, refused to die with his creator. By the time of Conan Doyle’s death on 7 July 1930, Holmes was already a star of stage and screen. His film debut, Sherlock Holmes Baffled, came as early as 1900. Just a few seconds long, the film used stop-motion camerawork to show Holmes attempting to grapple with a burglar who repeatedly disappears, then reappears in a different part of the room. 4. A 1940s duo cemented Holmes and Watson's on screen personas One of the oldest surviving film adaptations of Conan Doyle’s work dates to 1916 (William Gillette again) but it was the English duo of Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce in the 1940s who for many years became identified in the public imagination as the Holmes and Watson. Rathbone and Bruce made 14 Sherlock Holmes films between 1939 and 1946 (and starred in more than 200 dramatisations for American radio), yet only the first two films were set in the Victorian period. The others had a contemporary setting, allowing Sherlock Holmes to pursue Nazi spies and to urge the purchase of war bonds. Bruce’s dim, bumbling Watson tends to infuriate Holmes purists. 5. He inspired hundreds of parodies The Adventures of ChubbLock Homes, an early comic strip, appeared in Comic Cuts magazine as early as 1893, and the urge to parody the great detective has never gone away. In 1901, while William Gillette’s official Holmes play was running in London, audiences at Terry’s Theatre were enjoying performances of the rather more frivolous Sheerluck Jones. The comic strip Sherlocko & Watso was hugely popular in the USA in the early 20th century, and silent film parodies abounded. Later in the century, Peter Cook and John Cleese both played comedy Sherlocks on film (Cleese's character was Arthur Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock’s grandson). Less well remembered, perhaps, is the 1976 TV film The Return of the World’s Greatest Detective, in which a youthful Larry Hagman (before his JR Ewing days) played a deluded motorcycle cop, Sherman Holmes. Read more | Women detectives: meet the Victorian female super sleuths 6. Tobacco, cereal and… mouthwash? Holmes has sold it all Even in his early days, Sherlock Holmes was helping manufacturers to sell their products. In the 1890s, the makers of Beecham’s Pills ran advertisements suggesting that the great detective was a devoted user. And as a smoker, Holmes was popular with the tobacco companies. Early cigarette advertisements using Holmes’ image included brands such as Lambert and Butler’s ‘Varsity’ mixture, Chesterfield, Ogden’s, Gallaher’s and Players. Since then, products as diverse as furniture cream, mouthwash, breakfast cereal and photocopiers have all benefited from association with the great man. 6. He debuted on TV to mixed reviews With the growth of television after the Second World War, the Baker Street detective was quick to adapt to the new medium. Alan Wheatley was the first actor to portray Holmes on British television – his 1951 series was broadcast live. But it seems Wheatley was not a fan of Holmes. When asked about Holmes’ character, he is said to have replied: “In my opinion he just seemed to be an insufferable prig”. 7. One actor played Holmes twice… and his brother Peter Cushing appeared as Holmes on the BBC in the 1960s. He had already played the detective in the 1959 Hammer film The Hound of the Baskervilles, alongside Christopher Lee as Sir Henry Baskerville. Lee was to play Holmes himself in a 1962 film; then, nearly 30 years later, he took up the pipe again, playing an ageing Sherlock in two TV films known together as Sherlock Holmes the Golden Years. Throw in an appearance as Mycroft Holmes in Billy Wilder’s The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes, and Sir Christopher almost bagged the complete set. Alas, he never appeared on screen as Doctor Watson. 8. The most prolific Holmes For many people, the definitive portrayal of Sherlock Holmes was by Jeremy Brett, for Granada Television, in the 1980s and 1990s. Brett appeared in 41 episodes, including five feature-length productions. However, even that impressive achievement doesn’t make Brett the most prolific Holmes. That title must go to the British actor Clive Merrison, who played the detective on BBC Radio between 1989 and 1998, and who completed the full canon – dramatisations of all 60 of Conan Doyle’s Holmes stories and novels. 9. Holmes, The Avengers and Britain's most famous secret agent are forever linked on screen And so to Benedict Cumberbatch’s Sherlock, in which Andrew Scott rose to prominence playing Moriarty. Scott has also appeared in the new James Bond film, Spectre, joining an illustrious club of actors who have performed alongside Britain’s most famous spy and Britain’s most famous detective. But only Sir Roger Moore has played both leading roles on film. Sadly his one appearance as Holmes – in the 1976 TV-film Sherlock Holmes in New York – is not, perhaps, his most memorable work. Sean Connery never played Holmes, but he did play the ultra-astute friar William of Baskerville in The Name of the Rose, so you might say that he came close. The actor playing Dr Watson to Roger Moore’s Holmes was Patrick Macnee, most famous as John Steed in The Avengers. Macnee played Watson again, 15 years later, alongside Christopher Lee’s Holmes. Then, in 1993, he donned the deerstalker himself in The Hound of London, thus becoming that very rare thing – an actor who has starred in films as both Holmes and Watson. But all these efforts to breathe new life into Sherlock Holmes might well have been greeted with bemusement by Holmes’ creator, Arthur Conan Doyle, who wrote in a letter in 1892: “Holmes is as inhuman as Babbage’s Calculating Machine.” Martin Davies is the author of Mrs Hudson and the Spirits’ Curse (Canelo, 2015)