Sorry guys, can’t talk right now, I'm busy crying my eyes out. The mascara’s running and there’s a snot bubble and I’m just really unfortunate-looking at the moment. It’s all Julian Fellowes’ fault, too. Classism, sexism, and ego collided on Downton Abbey tonight to send “the sweetest soul” under its roof to that big suffragist rally in the sky and I’m not okay with it. Nope. Not okay with it at all.
It was time for Sybil’s bun to leave the oven and Robert, after breaking Edith’s heart (again) by implying that the editor who offered her a job cared more about her title than her intelligence, called in fancy Sir. Philip, baby doctor to the stars, to take over in lowly Dr. Clarkson’s place. His initial reasoning was solid enough: Clarkson misdiagnosed Matthew’s spinal injuries after the Great War and didn’t catch Lavinia’s flu symptoms in time to prevent her death. He was a fine enough country doctor, but Robert didn’t want to take any risks concerning his daughter. Okay. Cool. That’s fair. I guess.
The fairness melted away, however, when Sybil began to show signs of complications that Clarkson picked up on and Philip dismissed. Her fleeting lucidity and swollen ankles all pointed to eclampsia. Sir Philip’s response? “Maybe she just has thick ankles.” Robert sided with Philip because he was the one with “Sir” in front of his name and talking about girl parts was too icky for his gentlemanly self to manage. It was especially telling that none of the women present shied away from the less savory details of childbirth, and none of them, including the one actually giving birth, were asked for their opinion until it was too late. By the time Tom reached out to Cora for advice and she enthusiastically supported taking Sybil to the hospital, the damage had been done.
Downton Abbey touches on patriarchy a lot—Cora’s fortune automatically became Robert’s upon their marriage, Mary is only slated to become the next Countess of Grantham because of her union with Matthew, and throughout Sybil’s terrifying delivery of the wee baby Branson, the men around her were the ones who ultimately determined her fate. However, Sybil was in the unique position to be screwed over by not just one, but two -isms. The general idea back in the day—and that sure, in some circles, continues today—was that upon marriage, a woman left her father’s care and entered her husband’s, because we all know women are incapable of taking care of themselves. That traditional model was overridden in Sybil’s case by class. We can’t know for sure whether Tom would have made a better call if he'd been consulted first, but given his willingness to reach out to Cora, we can assume that he would have at least been more open to listening to the opinions of those other than Sir Philip.
Tom was only allowed to enter the debate when everyone else overruled Robert’s iron grip on the decision-making, and Robert was clearly unhappy about it, arguing that he had hired Sir Philip to care for Sybil and he was the “master” of the house. Being “master of the house” meant he had the final say regarding Sybil’s treatment, even though Clarkson couldn’t even mention testing her pee without making the man gag. His ego had been simmering all night, but it began to boil over when Tom was brought into the fold, with Violet dryly remarking that “the decision will be made by the chauffeur.” So not helping matters, Dowager.
A small, but healthy baby girl was delivered and it looked like danger had been averted, but that was just Mr. Fellowes waiting for us all to relax before he finally pulled the trigger. He’s a cruel one, to be sure.
So here we are, firmly in the mourning period. There’s a baby with no mom and the only couple we have left to squee over is Matthew and Mary and they’ve been a giant snooze all season—when they haven’t been arguing over everything. Cora and Robert are fighting now, though I think their disagreement is more than justified. Meanwhile, O’Brien and Thomas are still fighting, Daisy still hates the new girl, and Bates is still in prison. There’s a shiny new baby at Downton, but hardly anyone feels like celebrating. Even Thomas’s usual gruffness and the Dowager Countess’s dependable wit have been humbled by the loss of Sybil. Thomas remarked, “In my life, not many people have been kind to me. She was one of the few.” Of her late sister, to her other sister, Lady Mary said, “She was the only person living who thought you and I were such nice people.”
Downton is a colder and emptier place with Sybil gone, and that final scene of Tom standing in the window, alone with his baby, was the visualization of the sentiment everyone hinted at. The great old houses like Downton are large and grand monuments to esteemed (and let's face it, not always so esteemed) families, but they’re made out of glass and stone—materials that, by their very nature, are cold and inanimate. The warmth and fondness that the Crawleys have for their estate is tied to something deeper than the house. Without the lives that thrive within it, a house is just a bunch of walls, and walls can be very isolating and very lonely.
– Dowager Countess Sass of the Night: “A woman of my age can face reality far better than most men.” Clearly.
– I think I kept it together pretty well until the Dowager Countess lost her composure. I mean, if she can’t maintain herself, how can I be expected to?
– Sybil wanted Baby Branson to be Catholic because Tom really cared about it and she didn’t. I’m sure Robert will be thrilled. Just last week he was telling us about how much he hates those pesky, traitorous Catholics.
– Shameless leering at the wardrobe time: Everybody had such lovely frocks for Babywatch 1920!
– Ugh. O’Brien. There are boundaries. You’re crossing them. This prank war isn’t fun anymore.
– Ethel Parks, Ex Ho: Isobel hired Ethel to help out Mrs. Bird. Mrs. Bird quit because eew prostitute cooties. Unfortunately, Ethel is a sucky cook who can’t even get tea right.
– The Adventures of Detective Anna, Super Sleuth: Bates and Anna put the pieces together and realized that Vera poisoned herself to frame Bates and Mrs. Bartlett knew it. They began the process of getting Bartlett to fess up. Does that mean it’s #FREEBATES time soon? I’m getting really sick of typing that hashtag every week.