Now that Season Four has come to an end, I wonder how it will look to us later, when the series itself comes to an end.  I picture Season 17 closing with the family attending the reception following the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II in 1952.  The coronation itself was nearly ruined when it was learned that a compromising photograph had been taken by a rogue journalist.  Fortunately, young Mister Bates (do I get credit for avoiding a tasteless pun?) was able to remove the negative from the offending camera without anyone noticing, while the rest of the family distracted the photographer with a raucous puppet show.  Someone said history does not repeat itself, but it rhymes.

I wonder if, after we have fully digested the meaning of this season, we will see the critical events as the coordinated rise of Isis and fall of Mr. Napier.  We began the season with Isis missing in action, and she failed to appear in the first couple of episodes.  Eventually she turned up in the drawing room.  In the climactic episode, she was featured as part of the company that made its way from Downton to London after the rest of the establishment had settled in.  In contrast, Mr. Napier re-entered the story early and forcefully as an important government official and as a suitor for Mary’s hand.  His star gradually dimmed and in the last episode, he did not even appear, except in a condescending reference.  To make the point to Gillingham that her future prospects covered a wide field, Mary offered Napier as an absurd example of who might end up as her future husband once she starts accepting applications in earnest.  I picture a graph showing the crossing lines of the relative status of Isis and Napier, looking like a demand curve in an economics textbook.

I can tell that no one is buying this.  All right, let’s consider some other aspects of this season-ending episode.  There was no particular need to bring the future Edward VIII into the story as a character, except to lend more interest to the shenanigans associated with retrieving his letter.  I was curious about the historical accuracy of the story’s treatment of the prince.  I thought I recognized the name of his lady friend, and learned that there really was someone named Freda Dudley Ward.  She was born in 1894 and did not turn in her ticket until 1983.  It seems to have been common knowledge that she and Edward (she called him “David” but we are not on such close terms with him) had a sexual relationship from 1918 to 1923, so it would have ended later in the year in which Episode 8’s events occurred.  They remained friends until 1934 and she appears to have had something to do with introducing him to Wallis Simpson, the woman for whom he gave up the throne in 1936.

I can’t find any indication that they went to public places together, plays, parties, etc.  It’s also not clear that the Prince of Wales or any other member of the royal family would have just dropped in on a private party.  However, it just spoils the fun if we insist on that much accuracy, so let’s assume it was all in a day’s work for the Prince of Wales to attend events like Rose’s after-party and to crack jokes at the expense of loud unmannered Americans who happened to wander by as he stood alone near the buffet.  He traveled widely, including to India as indicated in the story, and he would have been there at the time that Rose’s dad was working there.  He was a hit wherever he went.  While his parents were reserved and formal, even by English standards, Edward was social, gregarious, handsome, charming.  A song written about him later in the decade gives an indication of his star power.  Here’s an excerpt (it scans better if you stress the last syllable of each line):  “Glory, glory Halleluiah! / I’m the luckiest of females! / For I’ve danced with a man / Who’s danced with a girl / Who’s danced with the Prince of Wales!”

What about the letter that caused so much trouble?  It turns out that Edward wrote at least one letter that could have caused trouble in the wrong hands.  Here’s a link to a news story from the (London) Mirror about a letter that Edward wrote to Freda in 1919, when he was Prince of Wales.  http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/uk-news/king-edward-viii-foul-mouthed-handwritten-2851508  The story is dated November 2013, well after this episode would have been written, so possibly the writers did not know about the letter.  But it is a strange coincidence that the 1919 letter, containing an obscenity that no monarch should ever use (but which Edward’s brother did use at high volume in “The King’s Speech”), was in existence at the time of our story, although it was lost for nearly a century.  Well, a man who writes one embarrassing letter might write another.

Mary comments that Edward’s wild ways will eventually land him in trouble.  It’s almost as if she had a momentary glimpse into the future!  It was also interesting to me that Mrs. Levinson knows all about Freda Dudley Ward.  The prince’s private life was all over the American press, but the British press practiced what was called “patriotic reticence”.  This was true right up to the abdication in 1936.  The British public learned about the affair with Mrs. Simpson very late in the day, while the rest of the world knew all about it.

We now know a little bit more about the disappearance of Mr. Gregson in Munich.  In an earlier comment, I had allowed for the possibility that he had been beaten up by political agitators, but I thought it improbable because the political situation in Munich was relatively calm in 1922, compared to what was to come in the following year.  I did a little research and found that the Brown Shirts or Storm Troopers were indeed an active force in 1922, but had a specialized purpose.  The National Socialist party was up and running, with Hitler as its leader.  When they held rallies, their political opponents would attempt to heckle and disrupt.  The function of the Brown Shirts was to beat up anyone who tried to disrupt a party meeting.  Also, the Brown Shirts were used to break up the meetings of the Nazi’s opponents.  So, their function appears to have been providing violent service to advance particular party functions; they don’t seem to have been engaged in general street violence outside of a political context.  However, if someone like Mr. Gregson were to offer overt disapproval of their program, no doubt the Brown Shirts would have been happy to provide a beating off the books and free of charge.  Perhaps Mr. Gregson, as an intended future German citizen, thought he would replicate the give and take of Hyde Park oratory in central Munich.  Where Mr. Gregson ended up after his confrontation, I’m sure we will learn in due course.  I continue to believe that he will turn up, but obviously we will have to wait for Season Five to find out any more details.

When he does finally turn up (I will stick with this as a working hypothesis until proven wrong), he will find that he has a young daughter living under an assumed identity at the tenant farm down the road.  (Another correction – I thought the farmer with whom Edith was originally going to leave the child was the fellow she worked with and kissed during the war.  Actually, it is Mr. Drew, the tenant whose family has been serving the Crawleys since Napoleon was a lieutenant, the man to whom Lord Grantham lent 50 pounds.)  Is it reasonable to think that Edith can actually pull this off?  She received Mr. Drew in one of the Abbey’s great rooms.  He was shown in by one of the staff (who looked like Peg, but what would he be doing at the Abbey?), who is bound to think it odd that Lady Edith is meeting with a farmer, who also happens to be Lady Mary’s new pig man.  This might be worth a comment in the servants’ hall, which would be as good as making a public announcement.  Now that the arrangement with Mr. Drew has been made, Edith is going to travel back to Switzerland to retrieve the baby from the Schroeders.  Assuming that they are willing to hand the child back, Edith is then going to return to Yorkshire, carrying all requisite baby gear, not to mention a baby, to some convenient spot where she can hand the child off to Mr. Drew.  All this is to be done without running into anyone who might know her, and without any help (other than possibly from Aunt Rosalind, if she can tear herself away from Mr. Samson).  It doesn’t sound like a plan that can remain secret for any serious length of time.  Well, perhaps that’s the idea.  Possibly, we will spend half of Season Five watching Edith’s secret gradually become common knowledge.  Hurry, Mr. Gregson, faster please.

I refuse to be drawn into an extended commentary about the search for the letter.  The whole thing is too ridiculous for comment.  The only point I want to dwell on is Robert’s absurd statement that his motivation for organizing a criminal conspiracy, including forgery, burglary, subornation of felony and heaven knows what else, is that he is a monarchist!  My reaction was that if he were truly a monarchist, he should hardly feel it necessary to retrieve the letter.  If you believe that the hereditary king or queen ought by right to be the head of state, then the particular character or actions of the monarch ought to make no difference.  By contrast, when a certain U.S. president was found to have engaged in conduct unworthy of his high office, there were those who defended him and those who called for his impeachment.  But no one reacted by saying that such behavior calls constitutional representative democracy itself into question.  Perhaps it is not monarchism that Robert wants to protect.  Maybe his instinct is that when the monarch is known to have no respect for his high station, it is the British class system rather than the status of the monarchy that is put at risk.

I was surprised by how little was left up in the air when this season ended.  There was no cliffhanger ending.  We don’t know how Edith will manage and we don’t know if, when, or how Mr. Gregson will return.  We don’t know what Mary is going to do (but I make it about 7-2 for Mr. Blake, especially now that we know he is secretly rich and going to come into a nice title, and the rest of the field at about 8-1).  There isn’t a lot of tension anywhere else.  The perfection of Bates’s crime was in slight doubt, but his service to the royal family saved him.  (You know how it is when you commit a capital crime.  You mean to go through your pockets to remove evidence, but there is always something else to do.  Well, it worked out this time.)  Mrs. Hughes has made her move and Mr. Carson’s fate is now sealed.  I feel that we have left Downton with the sun shining while a light breeze carries the song of birds to our ears.  I hope all of the characters are enjoying this little break.  I fear this pleasant mood will not last once Season Five gets underway.