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Confronting Silence:
The Aid of Echo in George Herbert's "Heaven"

Ana Maria Correa


In T. S. Eliot's celebrated essay "The Metaphysical Poets," he describes the phenomena of the poets of the seventeenth century, who were "constantly amalgamating disparate experience," and discusses how this unified perspective functions consistently throughout their work, "forming new wholes" (247). Specifically (according to Eliot), the poetry of George Herbert is "simple and pure," facilitating a "fidelity to thought and feeling" that is extremely rare today (245). An example of this can be seen in Herbert's poetic interaction with the Greek myth of Echo. Through the use of Echo, George Herbert transcends both the traditional meaning of the devotional as well as that of the myth, infusing personal significance and added meaning into his poem "Heaven," ultimately unifying pagan and Christian elements to create a work relevant to those within and without the Church.

According to critic Anthony Low, the poems of George Herbert "deal mainly with the private relationship of the individual soul to God" (224). Herbert himself is quoted as explaining that "the poems in The Temple represent 'a picture of the many spiritual conflicts that have past betwixt God and my Soul'" (Low 224). The "subtle processes, changes of attitude, struggles, and surrenders of the inner spiritual life" portrayed in his verses underscore the intense relevancy of his work (Low 224). Aldous Huxley calls this "the inner weather," and names Herbert as the poet most able to capture it in his lines (233). He further states that in his poems "unexcelled for flawless purity of diction and appositeness of imagery, he has described its changes and interpreted, in terms of mystic philosophy, their significance" (Huxley 233). However, Herbert's pure authenticity possesses more than merely the power to communicate its own worth.

Another essay of Eliot's, "George Herbert as Religious Poet," pinpoints a vital function of Herbert's work. Eliot declares, "It would, however, be a gross error to assume that Herbert's poems are of value only for Christians — or, still more narrowly, only for members of his own church" (239). He goes on to explain that Herbert's lyrics "form a record of spiritual struggle which should touch the feeling, and enlarge the understanding of those readers also who hold no religious belief and find themselves unmoved by religious emotion" ("Religious" 239). According to Eliot, the scope of Herbert's poetry transcends the domain of one single audience, creating a common field of experience on which many may share understanding of his themes. On the other hand, Eliot also asserts:

[E]ven if the reader enjoys a poem more fully when he shares the beliefs of the author, he will miss a great deal of possible enjoyment and of valuable experience if he does not seek the fullest understanding possible of poetry in reading which he must "suspend his disbelief." (241)
These two coinciding perspectives are ideal for considering Herbert's employment of Greek myth in his poem "Heaven." Those outside of the Church can immediately identify with the longing addressed in the work, while those within the Church are challenged to gain a more full understanding of the piece — mere agreement with its sentiment is not enough. Herbert's harmony of the "sacred" and "secular" revolve around a pagan myth, establishing an altogether integrated aesthetic within the poem. With this understanding, the nature of the myth itself must first be considered in order to establish a point of departure.

The myth of Echo in Greek mythology has two distinct variations. The more popular one tells of her involvement with Narcissus. The goddess Hera turned against Echo for inadvertently distracting her in her attempt to discover which nymph currently held Zeus' interest at the time (Hamilton 87). Hera "condemned her never to use her tongue again except to repeat what was said to her. 'You will always have the last word,' Hera said, 'but no power to speak first' " (Hamilton 87). Not long after this, Echo fell in love with the self-absorbed Narcissus. Because she could never speak first, she only followed him at a distance, seeking an opportunity to attract his attention. Finally one day, as he looked for his companions, Narcissus called out, and she answered him, stepping out of the cover of the trees (Hamilton 88). Once he saw her, "he turned away in angry disgust. 'Not so,' he said; 'I will die before I give you power over me.' All she could say was, humbly, entreatingly, 'I give you power over me,' but he was gone" (Hamilton 88). She immediately hid in caves to hide her shame, "never to be comforted. Still she lives in places like that, and they say she has so wasted away with longing that only her voice now is left to her" (Hamilton 88). By all intents and purposes, the myth merely describes how "unfulfilled love results in the total negation of Echo's body and the near negation of her voice" (Danielewski 41).

Yet much more lies beneath the surface of this tale. In actuality, "Echo is an insurgent. Despite the divine constraints imposed upon her, she still manages to subvert the gods' ruling" (Danielewski 41). Interestingly, "her repetitions are far from digital, much closer to analog. Echo colours the words with faint traces of sorrow . . . never present in the original" (Danielewski 41). This is recognized by Ovid in his Metamorphoses:

So she was turned away
To hide her face, her lips, her guilt among the trees,
Even their leaves, to haunt caves of the forest,
To feed her love on melancholy sorrow
Which, sleepless, turned her body to a shade,
First pale and wrinkled, then a sheet of air,
Then bones, which some say turned to thin-worn rocks;
And last her voice remained. Vanished in forest,
Far from her usual walks on hills and valleys,
She's heard by all who call; her voice has life.
(Danielewski 42)

In other words, her voice "possesses a quality not present in the original, revealing how a nymph can return a different and more meaningful story, in spite of telling the same story" (Danielewski 42).

With this in mind, it is fascinating to note that a "religious appropriation" of this myth can be traced back to Henry Reynolds' 1632 work, Mythomystes:

This Winde is . . . the Symbole of the Breath of God; and
Ecco, the reflection of this divine breath, or spirit upon
us; or . . . the daughter of the divine voice; which
through the beatifying splendor it shedds and diffuses
through the Soule, is justly worthy to be reverenced and
adored by us. (Danielewski 44)

Reynolds goes on to describe Narcissus as a "Soule" that "stops his eares to the Divine voice, or shutts his harte from divine Inspirations, through his being enamour'd of . . . his own shadow meerely" and thus becomes "an earthy, weake, worthless thing, and fit sacrifize for only eternall oblivion" (Danielewski 44). In this reading of the myth, "Echo suddenly assumes the role of god's messenger . . . descending on fortunate humanity" (Danielewski 44).

Could it be more than a coincidence that George Herbert's poem "Heaven" was included in the collection of poems published soon after his death in 1633, barely a year after the emergence of Reynolds' work? The added religious aspect of the myth is worth considering; especially since as a minister, Herbert was very likely familiar with the fact that the "rabbinical bat kol means 'daughter of a voice' which in modern Hebrew serves as a rough equivalent to the word 'echo' " (Danielewski 44). This knowledge is true of Milton, who in Book IX of Paradise Lost writes, "God so commanded, and left that Command / Sole Daughter of his voice" (Danielewski 44). This perspective is definitely worthy of speculation, especially when reading Herbert's poem itself:

 
O who will show me those delights on high?
                            Echo.                              I.
Thou Echo, thou art mortall, all men know.
                            Echo.                              No.
Wert thou not born among the trees and leaves?
                            Echo.                               Leaves.
And are there any leaves, that still abide?
                            Echo.                              Bide.
What leaves are they? impart the matter wholly.
                            Echo.                              Holy.
Are holy leaves the Echo then of blisse?
                            Echo.                              Yes.
Then tell me, what is that supreme delight?
                            Echo.                              Light.
Light to the minde : what shall the will enjoy?
                            Echo.                              Joy.
But are there cares and businesse with the pleasure?
                            Echo.                              Leisure.
Light, joy, and leisure ; but shall they persever?
                            Echo.                              Ever.


(Di Cesare 68-69)

By entitling the poem "Heaven," Herbert draws a direct correlation between Echo as myth and her revitalized role as a redeemed messenger to mankind. The speaker goes from nagging doubt and spiritual questioning to stable security by means of Echo, who can still only repeat the last sound spoken to her. By echoing the words with her transformed meaning, she affirms and reassures the speaker in a truly unique way. Herbert stays within the perimeters of the original myth and does not break the haunting sense of longing inherent in her person, but at the same time allows her to give hope and comfort to the poem's speaker, transcending her former role of loss and unrequited love.

In his experimental novel House of Leaves, writer Mark Danielewski explores yet another dimension of the nature of Echo when he states, "Aside from recurrence, revision, and commensurate symbolic reference, echoes also reveal emptiness. Since objects always muffle or impede acoustic reflection, only empty places can create echoes of lasting clarity" (46). In addition to this, "An echo, while implying an enormity of a space, at the same time also defines it, limits it, and even temporarily inhabits it" (Danielewski 46). An echo serves the same function as a pebble dropped into a well: while "the eventual plunk" is gratifying, the absence of sound is "disquieting" (Danielewski 46). In other words, although echoes at first speak of void and hollow emptiness, their meaning ultimately expands, providing reassurance and the proof of a wall or boundary. Herbert's poem functions within this understanding, proving that, despite appearances, humanity is not alone. Absolute, eternal emptiness does not exist. A fixed boundary securely abides, ultimately in the form of Heaven and the presence of a loving God.

According to Danielewski, "Myth makes Echo the subject of longing and desire" (50). Herbert transforms the literal meaning derived from the myth and adds another dimension to her tale, creating a work that confronts the fact that "where there is no Echo there is no description of space or love. There is only silence" (Danielewski 50). As he reflects on the theme of reflection, Herbert connects aspects of the eternal with a temporal idea, demonstrating humanity's need while at the same time proving the paradox that it is precisely in human emptiness where the echoes of the presence of God are to be found. With this deceptively simple poem, Herbert not only transcends the nature of the "sacred" and "secular," but also brings a comforting unity and cohesion to the mind of the reader through his personal exploration of the nature of Heaven.


Works Cited

Danielewski, Mark Z. House of Leaves. 2nd ed. New York: Pantheon,
2000.

Di Cesare, Mario A., ed. George Herbert and the Seventeenth-Century
Religious Poets. New York: Norton, 1978.

Eliot, T. S. "George Herbert as Religious Poet." Di Cesare 236-42.

---. "The Metaphysical Poets." Selected Essays. New York: Harcourt,
Brace & World, 1960.

Hamilton, Edith. Mythology. New York: Signet, 1969.

Huxley, Aldous. "The Inner Weather." Di Cesare 233.

Low, Anthony. "Metaphysical Poets and Devotional Poets." Di Cesare
221-32.


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