"Not Death, but Love"

I thought once how Theocritus had sung

Of the sweet years, the dear and wished-for years,

Who each one in a gracious hand appears

To bear a gift for mortals, old or young:

And, as I mused it in his antique tongue,

I saw, in gradual vision through my tears,

The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years,

Those of my own life, who by turns had flung

A shadow across me.  Straightway I was 'ware,

So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move

Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair;

And a voice said in mastery, while I strove,--

"Guess now who holds thee!"--"Death," I said, But, there,

The silver answer rang, "Not Death, but Love."

            —Elizabeth Browning

In order to work my way into engaging with poetry, I think I’m going to start by looking through the lens of another form of media. When I read the poem “Not Death, but Love” by Elizabeth Browning, I had just finished the second season of Downton Abbey. That being the case, all the poems I read that day were connected somehow in my mind to the people of Downton. That’s just how my brain works. Anyway. The Browning poem, I immediately decided, was Thomas’s poem.

Thomas is one of my favorite characters. I don’t understand why everyone hates him so much. Okay, well, I actually do. He’s a total douchebag. But good grief, I love him anyway. Looking at him, I feel like Elizabeth Swann in the second Pirates movie when she walks up to Norrington, who’s lying in the mud outside the Tortuga tavern, and says, “James Norrington, what has the world done to you?” [Why yes, I do have a habit of connecting my experiences to media. Why do you ask?] But seriously. With Thomas, I can see how his experiences of the world have shaped him and made him what he is, and I really feel for him. I love the complexity and the three-dimensionality of his character. And I totally think this poem describes him.

The way I see it, the narrator in Browning’s poem starts out by reflecting on the years ze should have had. [By the way, I’m using gender neutral pronouns.] These past years should have been dear and sweet, and should have come bearing gifts, like they do for everybody else. Upon further reflection, though, the narrator realizes that the years of zir own life have been sad and melancholy; the world has not treated zem well, has “flung a shadow” over zem. It’s like this twisted sort of nostalgia: everybody else had it so good, but me, my life sucked. As soon as the narrator becomes aware of how much life has sucked for zem, that’s when the personification of what’s holding zem back appears. It even grabs zem by the hair, physically keeping them from moving forward. The narrator thinks it’s Death, but it is actually Love.

Let me digress for a moment—or maybe be more focused?—and talk about how deep I think that concept really is. The narrator thinks that death is what’s holding them back. That could mean several things: literal death; figurative death; fear of personal death; fear of others’ death; a specific experience of death that ze can’t overcome. But really, if it wasn’t for love, death wouldn’t be able to hold zem back in the first place. Let’s take the example of fear of personal death. Fear of death is caused by attachment—or, in many cases, love. Love of yourself, love of others, love of things, love of experiences. Death implies the possibility of losing what you love, and so you fear it. At least, that’s how it seems to me upon reading this poem. Thus, when you think you’re being held back by your fear of death, what’s actually holding you back is your love, which is what causes you to fear death in the first place. I feel like I’m getting somewhat convoluted. I could also get all Buddhist and start talking about realizing the truth of fundamental impermanence to cope with attachments and fear, but that might be taking this poem a bit too far. I doubt Browning was familiar with the tenants of Buddhism.

Back to what I wanted to talk about: Thomas. This poem is how I think Thomas would feel if he would just allow himself to feel fully. I especially think the poem is relevant to his emotional state in the second season, after [Spoiler alert!] Edward Courtenay kills himself. Thomas was so in love with that boy, and after the whole mess with the Duke of Crowborough, I was like, please, writers, just let Thomas be happy, for crying out loud! But no. Of course not. Thomas just has to suffer. I imagine that, at the end of season two, Thomas would be reflecting on his life and wishing he could have had those “sweet, dear years,” but realizing that instead his years have been “sad and melancholy.” I can imagine him thinking that death is what’s holding him back and causing him to suffer: the literal death of Edward; the figurative death of his relationship with the Duke; the death of his aspirations, both before and after the war; as well as any other deaths in his past that we don’t yet know about. But then he comes to realize that, in fact, love is causing him to suffer—love of others and of himself.

What that would bode for Thomas, though, makes me anxious. If he were to think that love was what’s causing him to suffer, he might stop trying, and I happen to think that love is also what could cause him to stop suffering, so he darn well better not stop trying. Ugh, Thomas. Ugh, Downton. Why do I love this show so much? Sometimes I baffle myself.

Okay, for real, I'm done. I really like this poem, though, both on its own and because I've mentally linked it to my favorite Downtonian. Now! To work on an 8-page essay, and then probably to come back and engage with more poetry, except this time with fewer gay footmen.