Fare Thee Well, Downton Abbey

Well, I watched the last episode of Downton Abbey last night with my cup of Fortnum and Mason tea and tissues in-hand and I was not disappointed.

What can I say? I cried tears of joy as the last episode turned out to be a fairy tale ending for just about every beloved character on the show, both upstairs and downstairs. Well, except for Mr. Carson, who was forced out of his head butler post but let’s face it, it was time, and at least he has the love of a good woman to console him. Otherwise, Julian Fellowes left no stone unturned. Mary redeemed herself. Isobel (with the help of Violet) rescued Dickie from his evil son and daughter-in-law. Henry (and Tom) found a new and safer livelihood. Daisy had her eyes opened and got a new look in the process. Cora and Violet reconciled. We said goodbye and hello again to Mr. Barrow, who got some long-due affection and appreciation. Mr. Molesley and Miss Baxter looked forward to promising futures. Spratt showed Denker that the Dowager is in his corner. Mr. Mason wants to see more of Mrs. Patmore. And Anna and Mr. Bates finally had their prayers answered, in Lady Mary’s bedroom, no less! And I was so glad that nobody died and that they didn't have to sell the Abbey.

I have loved Downton Abbey from the very first episode when the opening credits started rolling with the now dearly departed Isis walking on the grounds of the grand estate, the bell ringing below-stairs as the chandelier is feather-dusted upstairs. I’ve always been an anglophile watching Masterpiece Theater with my dad from when I was a teen, following the Royal Family, etc. But, in my opinion, Downton Abbey is the very best series in Masterpiece Theater history.

It wasn’t just a period piece with gorgeous clothes, hats and hair, sumptuous furnishings, grand staircases, lush gardens, and endless teas. It was also an ongoing story of intrigues, loyalties, anguish, heartbreak, clashes, love, and inevitable change. I remember being so aghast when O’Brien tripped Mr. Bates on the gravel driveway, that I literally (and loudly) gasped. And, of course, what could have been more shocking or more unanticipated than the fate of poor Mr. Pamuk? I cried endlessly over dear Sybil. I looked forward to each Sunday of each short season and re-watched many episodes so as to go over and savor scenes when there was no distraction from anybody in my less-than-enthusiastic family.

Since I always root for the underdog, I have been holding out that one day, Lady Edith would find true happiness, which she did, in the best and biggest part of the storybook ending. Happiness for Edith at last, with a loving husband, little Marigold, and a seemingly and surprisingly decent mother-in-law — plus her magazine career! What a modern marchioness! Three cheers for Edith!

The season-ending Christmas episodes always left me with a big lump in my throat, but usually in a happy way because there would always be a new season to look forward to, a mere ten months down the road. Alas, that is not the case this time around. Mixed in with my tears last night was the bittersweetness of Auld Lang Syne which just caused me to reach for more tissues. Perhaps there will be a movie someday, but really it doesn’t matter. I don’t think Fellowes and his collaborators could ever top these past six seasons, but especially last night’s conclusion.

To take a cue from Lord Grantham himself: Golly gumdrops, now that was a great finale!