The tradition of the “upstairs, downstairs” production is one of, in theory, equality. Rather than hewing to tradition and focusing only on the lives of the upper crust aristocrats that usually dominate period pieces with their quail hunting and dinner parties, the “upstairs, downstairs” production seeks to give voice to the lives of those who served the upper classes, the ones whose cooking of the dinner made the dinner party possible. However, despite these egalitarian pretensions, most shows of this type seem to pivot around the “upstairs” members, and in some ways featuring the “downstairs” members only to marginalize them is more problematic than if they weren’t featured at all. From Downton Abbey to Gosford Park and The Rules of the Game, “upstairs” almost always remains the main focus of the plot, even if the “downstairs” servants occasionally serve an important narrative role. They are there to say “Hey, we exist too!” but their lives can never hold the attention of the production the way that the upper classes can, and they support the “upstairs” narrative in the same way their characters support the lives of those whom live up the stairs.
Part of the reason behind this is surely aesthetic. If the sets and costumes are to be designed with an eye to historical accuracy than there is a sense of glamour to the “upstairs” world with which the “downstairs” world can’t hope to complete. Would an audience rather look at someone dressed in a scarlet silk number with a diamond necklace draped over her chest, or would they rather look at someone in a tartan maid’s uniform, her hair askew and a pair of barely held together shoes on her feet? That might be an easy question to answer, but that’s no reason to assume that a program like Downton Abbey should be required to give the easy answer.
While Downton Abbey is sure to divide its time between those who live in the upstairs of the glamorous title estate and those who work hard to make that upstairs livable (I’d imagine that if you measured the time in each episode spent amongst each group of people the times would be roughly equal), it is the lives of the aristocratic Crawley family that drive the series’ narrative. The show opens with the death of the estate’s heir aboard the Titanic, and the arrival of the new heir, Matthew Crawley (Dan Stevens) a distant relative who works as a solicitor, a job which does not inspire much confidence from the Earl of Grantham (Hugh Bonneville) and his family. This development, and the family’s eternal attempts to hedge against it, is the basis on which the show rests, and the servants spend as much time talking about the romantic entanglements of their superiors as they do talking about their own. The “downstairs” has their own problems of course, but with the exception of Mr. Bates’ (Brendan Coyle) ongoing romantic and legal trials involving Anna (Joanne Froggatt) and his wife (Maria Doyle Kennedy) very few have the ongoing narrative thrust of the entail to Downton Abbey. Even when a ghost appears to Anna and Daisy (Sophie McShera), it is not to give a message of any concern to them, but to add a postscript to Matthew’s ill-fated engagement to Lavinia Squire (Zoe Boyle). This same concern for Downton’s other world cannot be mapped onto the “upstairs,” however.
The lords and ladies of the manor do frequently intervene in the lives of their subordinates, oftentimes for the better, but despite the good results, their interactions oftentimes reek of patronizing condescension. Their attempts to make the “downstairs” world better mostly serve as an excuse for the character to pat themselves on the back for being such a generous person. With the exception of the youngest daughter, Lady Sybil, most of the aristocracy seems to care little about the social forces that have situated the “downstairs” characters where they are, either not understanding why it is that their servants constantly need their help, or understanding the situation but simply choosing to ignore it. No one is ever called out on this willful ignorance except, ironically, Lady Sybil after a condescending comment that “We were not on our best in Ireland,” seemingly equating the situation in Ireland to displaying improper etiquette towards a dinner guest. Her love interest, the Irish valet Branson (Allen Leech), rightly points out how to him “not on our best” translates to family members being murdered as they were “probably” rebels, but this scene is more of an exception than the rule.
Most of the servants treat their masters with a reverence and gratitude that seems old-fashioned by today’s standards, with head butler Carson (Jim Carter) being the most odious offender. A clearer portrait of someone completely lacking in class consciousness would be difficult to make, and his fealty to the powers that be are so apparent, the Earl of Grantham presents him with a book on the royal families of Europe as a Christmas present. Whenever some point of etiquette is breeched amongst the denizens of “upstairs,” Carson is the one sent into a fit of apoplectic consternation, oftentimes caring much more than the people he is ostensibly concerned about. After finding out that Lady Sybil plans to work in the kitchen to make a surprise cake for her mother, Carson rushes down to watch her, unable to fathom a lady of the house working amongst him and his charges, a rather problematic response considering his own life amongst the working classes. Regrettable as this behavior may be, this sort of mentality was commonplace at the time, and it is true that working at an estate such as Downton Abbey was in many ways a much better opportunity than others in the working class could hope find. However, the show does not shy away from casting a doubtful or ironic eye towards other practices of the time, so it does not strike me as an unreasonable request to expect it here as well. Instead, the aristocracy, at least the way their subordinates see them, is treated with the reverence which Julian Fellowes apparently feels for them himself.
The show appeared more ready to tackle the politics of the status quo in its first season, with most change in the second season being routed through events such as the upheavals of the Great War and the Spanish Flu. The first season forced the characters to make change themselves, instead of being swept along by history. It was people who changed things, not events. One of Lady Sybil’s initial moments of rebellion is not in the cause of some historical event, but is in her attempts to help the young maid Gwen (Rose Leslie) gain employment as a secretary, a plan which eventually succeeds. In this case, a young maid hoping for a better life and a sense of upward mobility is rewarded, eventually securing a job with a telephone company.
In the second season, Gwen is replaced with an equally red-headed maid with equally high hopes of upward mobility. Ethel (Amy Nuttall) reads movie magazines and also dreams of a middle-class life beyond what she can currently hope for as a maid. She rejects class boundaries and flirts with a wounded officer staying at Downton. The two eventually sleep together and the show punishes her for daring to cross the class barrier by ejecting her from Downton and leaving her with the unwanted son of the Major she slept with. The show appears to be punishing her for her sarcastic and glib attitude, but it is hard not to also see it as a way of warning against those who want change too fast, albeit it is hard to see what is so unreasonable about any of Ethel’s actions. While the characters on the show cannot be expected to react any differently than that which the mores of the time dictated, one should expect a little better from the show’s own, modern-day perspective.
Upon reading all of this, some might get the impression that I do not care for Downton Abbey, but that would be a mistake. While there are plenty of compliments I could make about the show, these issues of class are the ones that lend themselves to the most interesting discussion. Indeed, they are inherent in the very premise of the show itself, so it would be a mistake not to discuss them, even if doing so makes the show sound worse than it is. While I might find the marginalization of the “downstairs” regressive at times, that is not to say that there aren’t plenty of moments when it’s not. Two of the Lord’s daughters (Edith [Laura Carmichael] and Sybil) have romantic entanglements with more “common” men, but these plotlines have the misfortune to not always be particularly well written. And for what it’s worth the lives of the “upstairs” do appear to be more interesting, or at least they are the ones who get the better plotlines. Some of what I see as an inequitable class structure is simply a result of the time in which the show takes place, and as there is at least one more season in the works (one without major global events to distract matters), I am looking forward to what personal upheavals the show has in store next. Just as the show is not finished, neither is the progress of its characters, and I wouldn’t give up hope just yet that some of the characters might have the chance to walk up the stairs for good.
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