Costume dramas: The other half lives IN AN era of string-"em-up hostility to the rich, sympathetic depictions of pharaonic aristocrats ought to be a tough sell. Apparently not. Two of Britain's most popular television dramas drool over unearned wealth: "Downton Abbey," first shown on ITV1 and now a hit on PBS, America's public-service broadcaster; and "Upstairs Downstairs," the second series of which is now on BBC1. "Upstairs Downstairs" has been accused of borrowing from "Downton Abbey" - unfairly, given that it evolved from a 1970s series. But the two do have much in common. Both portray relations among and between toffs and servants in the early 20th century. Both are co-productions with PBS. Both feature American characters: "Upstairs Downstairs" hosts the Kennedys and Wallis Simpson (these days, in British culture, the archetypal louche American). Gareth Neame, Downton's executive producer, attributes its appeal to the mix of historical setting and modern style. Like its BBC rival's, the script is original, not adapted from a novel, aiding the modern feel. Both revolve around class - and project a surprisingly rosy view of privilege. The aristos are paternalistic, the staff deferential and devoted, give or take the odd dashingly radical chauffeur. They thus chime with common outside views of Britain's hidebound past, but might be expected to grate at home. Mr Neame points out that TV dramas often involve workplace hierarchies, whether in hospitals, governments or, in this case, grand homes. Perhaps, instead of resenting them, British audiences find in these stories a refracted version of what is still a stratified society - with nicer frocks. The differences between the two are also subtly eloquent of class. "Upstairs Downstairs" is more upmarket, and pursues the classic BBC goal of informing as it entertains. Its two series are set in the 1930s, taking in the abdication crisis, the rise of Nazism and appeasement. Despite a flighty Mitfordesque relation and (soon) a lesbian romance, there is relatively little hanky-panky. It is sometimes a little worthy. "Downton Abbey" is more populist (as is ITV) and breezier with history, not just in its minor sartorial and linguistic anachronisms. The first series begins with the loss of the Titanic in 1912; the second spans the first world war. Here the post-war flu pandemic is less a national calamity than an opportunity to bump off awkward characters. With its healthy respect for silliness, "Downton Abbey" is the more successful of the two toffologues: it will be broadcast in many countries, picked up a Golden Globe in America and has helped to rejuvenate ITV. The Christmas episode - in which the hero forgives his lady's dalliance with a Turk, and a valet is condemned for murder - beat "EastEnders," a cherished soap opera of the modern working class, in the ratings. A third series is in the works. The good news for viewers bored with butlers is that, since the upper classes mostly ran out of servants after 1945, the producers are running out of servile decades.