A Year in the Life of Downton Abbey: Seasonal Celebrations, Traditions, and Recipes (28 page)

At Downton Abbey, no man is seen with his hands in his pockets, the women sit at the dining table with their hands on their laps and you’ll never hear ‘either’ or ‘neither’ pronounced as ‘ee-ther’ or ‘nee-ther’ (which began only after the American soldiers came to Britain during the Second World War). These small but essential details – and hundreds of others – are down to one man: Alastair Bruce,
Downton Abbey’
s historical advisor.

Alastair is usually to be found on set, watching the monitors as each scene is shot. Afterwards, he’ll leap up to have a word in the first assistant director’s ear: ‘Could you perhaps give a note to Sophie [McShera] that the dish she is holding is worth thousands of pounds, so perhaps better not to dump it down?’ But he’s crucial at most of the production stages, particularly in the line-up. This is when it is decided how the scene is going to go, with the director, actors, director of photography (for the lighting), the producer (Chris Croucher) and Alastair. At this point, the actors run through the lines and block exactly where they will move. Then there is a crew show (for the cameramen, costume, hair and make-up), so they can all see what the action’s going to be and what the extras will do. Alastair helps the first AD with this detail in particular.

Alastair Bruce doubles up as the Lord Chamberlain and historical advisor.

On set at Ealing Studios, Alastair watches a breakfast scene being filmed in the servants’ hall. The centre of the action is Carson, as he hands out the post to the rest of the servants, and he has a short conversation with Molesley. But Alastair has his eye on the non-speaking parts, checking the tiny details the audience may hardly realise they are taking in, but which all add up to the bigger picture of portraying what life was really like in a house like Downton Abbey. Of the scene being filmed, Alastair explains: ‘I’m very proud of the bell ringing at the start, because I don’t think we hear them enough. They would be too distracting [for the television viewer], but the fact is that in a house like this, the bells would be ringing all the time. See here in the background – a kitchen maid comes out and signals with a small nod of her head that Carson’s breakfast is ready and then we see the hall boy deliver his scrambled eggs [after the food stylist has checked with Alastair that they could sprinkle a little fresh parsley on first]. This story underlines that hall boys were in training to be footmen. So there are always hidden narratives going on.’

Alastair’s expertise means he notices things that others might not. He points to the monitor, where the camera is showing a hall boy holding a cup of tea: ‘We’ve had this problem before. The actor is left-handed, but it simply wouldn’t have been allowed in 1924.’

Alastair Bruce of Crionaich, to give him his full, somewhat unpronounceable name, is a direct descendant of Robert the Bruce and has several areas of expertise. As the royal, religious and national events commentator for Sky News, he had to drop
Downton
for a few days when Lady Thatcher died, in order to cover her funeral. He holds the title of Colonel of the Reservists in London (having seen active service in the Falklands War), as well as Fitzalan Pursuivant of Arms Extraordinary, which means he leads the royal procession for the State Opening of Parliament; and he works with the Garter King of Arms on royal heraldry, designing the Middleton coat of arms (as well as the Crawley crest for the show). Since HRH Prince Edward was twenty-four years old, Alastair has been his equerry and he is ambassador for the Hampshire Scouts. He’s even recently been awarded a professorship by Winchester University, of which he is as proud as his OBE.

Alastair’s knowledge of the minutiae of the
Downton
world comes from his study of court life from the end of the 1700s to 1945: ‘Aristocracy apes that, to greater or lesser effect, depending on the money available.’ He sees his job as giving suggestions to the directors, but they can do with those what they will: ‘I’m treading a fine line between authenticity and practical reality – it’s entertainment, not historical documentary. But we show we know what we’re doing in the details and give psychological confidence to the viewer in what they’re watching.’

Alastair comes to the scripts quite late in the process, although Julian will sometimes discuss ideas at an earlier stage. ‘I sit between the titans [Gareth Neame, Julian Fellowes and Liz Trubridge] and help them reach the point they want to get to,’ he says. Scripts in hand, Alastair will sit with the first AD to work out what supporting actors will be needed, so that a door can be properly opened or a car arrives or luggage is taken, meaning that any scene set in any room is delivered in the form in which it would have happened'.

But perhaps the most fun Alastair has had on set has been as an extra, appearing, in almost Hitchcockian fashion, as the Dowager Countess’s butler in the first series, as a general visiting the house with the Chief of Staff ('I gave myself a military cross because I was such a coward in the army in real life!') in the second, as a ghillie in Scotland, resplendent with a long beard, in the final episode of the third series and as the Lord Chamberlain announcing the debs at court in the fourth. Whatever his role in the fifth series – yet to be decided at the time of writing – we can be sure that Alastair Bruce will play it exactly right, down to the last stitch.

Alastair as a ghillie at the ball and (inset) as a decorated general.

The House Party

Thomas Barrow

A house party is more than a highlight of the week at Downton Abbey – as we will see later, it has its very own raison d’être. A house party might consist of little more than two or three extra guests staying for a couple of nights, or it might be a rather more elaborate affair, with several important families and entertainment brought in to amuse, or it could centre around a shoot. But whatever the size, for the servants, the pace of life kicks up a gear as preparations begin.

Carson comes into his element as he prepares the wines and checks the silver. Mrs Hughes is never less than completely efficient, but in the days before guests arrive, she excels herself as she monitors the linens, runs a finger where the housemaids should have dusted and ensures the bedrooms are freshly made up. Mrs Patmore will be more hot and bothered than usual, running through the menus with Lady Grantham and snapping at Daisy. Cora, Mary, Edith and Rose all look forward to an excuse to wear their latest fashionable evening dresses and endless discussions will be had about the placement and which guest should sleep in which bedroom. With any luck, there will be a little romantic intrigue, though this will of course be confined to the drawing room. Robert just craves some decent conversation after dinner and Tom hopes not to feel like a fish out of water.

Aristocratic families across the country held power partly because they were the principal employers of the local area, owned the land that the farmers rented and were the focus of the village’s entertainments. A peer would automatically have a seat in the House of Lords (today, hereditary peers must be elected in) and if he was ambitious – and most especially if his wife was – he would invite the influential people of the day to his house. In this way, he might gain further social and political influence, whether in arranging suitable marriages, conspiring against other politicians or simply running the country – members of the Cabinet might informally gather in someone’s house and decide pressing matters there, rather than at 10 Downing Street.

In the days before trains and motorcars, house parties would last several days and guests would not always know their host all that well. The reputation of the family and the house would influence whether or not an invitation was accepted. For this reason, the work the servants did was immensely important: a house that was known to be efficiently run, with excellent food and wine, good service, comfortable beds, decent sport and so on was more likely to attract the movers and the shakers.

Robert and Cora are not wildly ambitious, but they have, in their time, been keen to see their daughters marry well and Robert has no objection to appearing distinguished and munificent before the county’s families. Cora, as an American heiress to a retail fortune, is more bourgeois in her values; while she enjoys a good party and would like her guests to appreciate her giving one, she does not strike me as a person who would see any integrity in building a powerful reputation based on little more than being a sparkling hostess. Elizabeth McGovern thinks her character has changed over the years, which affects her social behaviour: ‘To an extent, she’s absorbing the time she lives in. She feels slightly more empowered to have a different opinion and is more comfortable standing up for herself and having her own separate interests to Robert. It is less a life that is a total reflection of his. I don’t think she’s in any way part of the emancipation of women, but she can’t help but absorb that.’

That said, she has always enjoyed hosting potential suitors for her daughters and she takes seriously charitable events such as the village fête, as would have been deemed right and proper by the likes of her mother-in-law. Violet and Cora are still not exactly friends, but as Elizabeth says: ‘They have a lot of respect for each other – they’re allies. They both want the same things for the family.’