__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
Title: Dark Night of the Soul
\nCreator(s): John of the Cross, St. (1542-1591)<\/p>\n
Practical theology<\/p>\n
Practical religion. The Christian life<\/p>\n
Mysticism
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL<\/p>\n
by<\/p>\n
Saint John of the Cross<\/p>\n
DOCTOR OF THE CHURCH<\/p>\n
THIRD REVISED EDITION<\/p>\n
Translated and edited, with an Introduction,<\/p>\n
by E. ALLISON PEERS<\/p>\n
from the critical edition of
\nP. SILVERIO DE SANTA TERESA, C.D.<\/p>\n
TO THE
\nDISCALCED CARMELITES OF CASTILE,<\/p>\n
WITH ABIDING MEMORIES OF THEIR HOSPITALITY AND KINDNESS
\nIN MADRID, AVILA AND BURGOS,
\nBUT ABOVE ALL OF THEIR DEVOTION TO
\nSAINT JOHN OF THE CROSS,
\nI DEDICATE THIS TRANSLATION
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
PREFACE TO THE ELECTRONIC EDITION<\/p>\n
This electronic edition (v 0.9) was scanned in 1994 from an
\nuncopyrighted 1959 Image Books third edition of the Dark Night. The
\nentire text except for the translator’s preface and some of the
\nfootnotes have been reproduced. Nearly 400 footnotes (and parts of
\nfootnotes) describing variations among manuscripts have been omitted.
\nPage number references in the footnotes have been changed to chapter
\nand section where possible. This edition has been proofread once, but
\nadditional errors may remain. The translator’s preface to the first and
\nsecond editions may be found with the electronic edition of Ascent of
\nMount Carmel.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
PRINCIPAL ABBREVIATIONS<\/p>\n
A.V.–Authorized Version of the Bible (1611).<\/p>\n
D.V.–Douai Version of the Bible (1609).<\/p>\n
C.W.S.T.J.–The Complete Works of Saint Teresa of Jesus, translated and
\nedited by E. Allison Peers from the critical edition of P. Silverio de
\nSanta Teresa, C.D. London, Sheed and Ward, 1946. 3 vols.<\/p>\n
H.–E. Allison Peers: Handbook to the Life and Times of St. Teresa and
\nSt. John of the Cross. London, Burns Oates and Washbourne, 1953.<\/p>\n
LL.–The Letters of Saint Teresa of Jesus, translated and edited by E.
\nAllison Peers from the critical edition of P. Silverio de Santa Teresa,
\nC.D. London, Burns Oates and Washbourne, 1951. 2 vols.<\/p>\n
N.L.M.–National Library of Spain (Biblioteca Nacional), Madrid.<\/p>\n
Obras (P. Silv.)–Obras de San Juan de la Cruz, Doctor de la Iglesia,
\neditadas y anotadas por el P. Silverio de Santa Teresa, C.D. Burgos,
\n1929-31. 5 vols.<\/p>\n
S.S.M.–E. Allison Peers: Studies of the Spanish Mystics. Vol. I,
\nLondon, Sheldon Press, 1927; 2nd ed., London, S.P.C.K., 1951. Vol. II,
\nLondon, Sheldon Press, 1930.<\/p>\n
Sobrino.–Jose Antonio de Sobrino, S.J.: Estudios sobre San Juan de la
\nCruz y nuevos textos de su obra. Madrid, 1950.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL<\/p>\n
INTRODUCTION<\/p>\n
SOMEWHAT reluctantly, out of respect for a venerable tradition, we
\npublish the Dark Night as a separate treatise, though in reality it is
\na continuation of the Ascent of Mount Carmel and fulfils the
\nundertakings given in it:<\/p>\n
The first night or purgation is of the sensual part of the soul,
\nwhich is treated in the present stanza, and will be treated in the
\nfirst part of this book. And the second is of the spiritual part; of
\nthis speaks the second stanza, which follows; and of this we shall
\ntreat likewise, in the second and the third part, with respect to
\nthe activity of the soul; and in the fourth part, with respect to
\nits passivity. [1]<\/p>\n
This fourth part’ is the Dark Night. Of it the Saint writes in a
\npassage which follows that just quoted:<\/p>\n
And the second night, or purification, pertains to those who are
\nalready proficient, occurring at the time when God desires to bring
\nthem to the state of union with God. And this latter night is a more
\nobscure and dark and terrible purgation, as we shall say afterwards.
\n[2]<\/p>\n
In his three earlier books he has written of the Active Night, of Sense
\nand of Spirit; he now proposes to deal with the Passive Night, in the
\nsame order. He has already taught us how we are to deny and purify
\nourselves with the ordinary help of grace, in order to prepare our
\nsenses and faculties for union with God through love. He now proceeds
\nto explain, with an arresting freshness, how these same senses and
\nfaculties are purged and purified by God with a view to the same
\nend–that of union. The combined description of the two nights
\ncompletes the presentation of active and passive purgation, to which
\nthe Saint limits himself in these treatises, although the subject of
\nthe stanzas which he is glossing is a much wider one, comprising the
\nwhole of the mystical life and ending only with the Divine embraces of
\nthe soul transformed in God through love.<\/p>\n
The stanzas expounded by the Saint are taken from the same poem in the
\ntwo treatises. The commentary upon the second, however, is very
\ndifferent from that upon the first, for it assumes a much more advanced
\nstate of development. The Active Night has left the senses and
\nfaculties well prepared, though not completely prepared, for the
\nreception of Divine influences and illuminations in greater abundance
\nthan before. The Saint here postulates a principle of dogmatic
\ntheology–that by himself, and with the ordinary aid of grace, man
\ncannot attain to that degree of purgation which is essential to his
\ntransformation in God. He needs Divine aid more abundantly. However
\ngreatly the soul itself labours,’ writes the Saint, it cannot actively
\npurify itself so as to be in the least degree prepared for the Divine
\nunion of perfection of love, if God takes not its hand and purges it
\nnot in that dark fire.’ [3]<\/p>\n
The Passive Nights, in which it is God Who accomplishes the purgation,
\nare based upon this incapacity. Souls begin to enter’ this dark night<\/p>\n
when God draws them forth from the state of beginners–which is the
\nstate of those that meditate on the spiritual road–and begins to
\nset them in the state of progressives–which is that of those who
\nare already contemplatives–to the end that, after passing through
\nit, they may arrive at the state of the perfect, which is that of
\nthe Divine union of the soul with God. [4]<\/p>\n
Before explaining the nature and effects of this Passive Night, the
\nSaint touches, in passing, upon certain imperfections found in those
\nwho are about to enter it and which it removes by the process of
\npurgation. Such travellers are still untried proficients, who have not
\nyet acquired mature habits of spirituality and who therefore still
\nconduct themselves as children. The imperfections are examined one by
\none, following the order of the seven deadly sins, in chapters
\n(ii-viii) which once more reveal the author’s skill as a director of
\nsouls. They are easy chapters to understand, and of great practical
\nutility, comparable to those in the first book of the Ascent which deal
\nwith the active purgation of the desires of sense.<\/p>\n
In Chapter viii, St. John of the Cross begins to describe the Passive
\nNight of the senses, the principal aim of which is the purgation or
\nstripping of the soul of its imperfections and the preparation of it
\nfor fruitive union. The Passive Night of Sense, we are told, is common’
\nand comes to many,’ whereas that of Spirit is the portion of very few.’
\n[5] The one is bitter and terrible’ but the second bears no comparison
\nwith it,’ for it is horrible and awful to the spirit.’ [6] A good deal
\nof literature on the former Night existed in the time of St. John of
\nthe Cross and he therefore promises to be brief in his treatment of it.
\nOf the latter, on the other hand, he will treat more fully . . . since
\nvery little has been said of this, either in speech or in writing, and
\nvery little is known of it, even by experience.’ [7]<\/p>\n
Having described this Passive Night of Sense in Chapter viii, he
\nexplains with great insight and discernment how it may be recognized
\nwhether any given aridity is a result of this Night or whether it comes
\nfrom sins or imperfections, or from frailty or lukewarmness of spirit,
\nor even from indisposition or humours’ of the body. The Saint is
\nparticularly effective here, and we may once more compare this chapter
\nwith a similar one in the Ascent (II, xiii)–that in which he fixes the
\npoint where the soul may abandon discursive meditation and enter the
\ncontemplation which belongs to loving and simple faith.<\/p>\n
Both these chapters have contributed to the reputation of St. John of
\nthe Cross as a consummate spiritual master. And this not only for the
\nobjective value of his observations, but because, even in spite of
\nhimself, he betrays the sublimity of his own mystical experiences. Once
\nmore, too, we may admire the crystalline transparency of his teaching
\nand the precision of the phrases in which he clothes it. To judge by
\nhis language alone, one might suppose at times that he is speaking of
\nmathematical, rather than of spiritual operations.<\/p>\n
In Chapter x, the Saint describes the discipline which the soul in this
\nDark Night must impose upon itself; this, as might be logically deduced
\nfrom the Ascent, consists in allowing the soul to remain in peace and
\nquietness,’ content with a peaceful and loving attentiveness toward
\nGod.’ [8] Before long it will experience enkindlings of love (Chapter
\nxi), which will serve to purify its sins and imperfections and draw it
\ngradually nearer to God; we have here, as it were, so many stages of
\nthe ascent of the Mount on whose summit the soul attains to
\ntransforming union. Chapters xii and xiii detail with great exactness
\nthe benefits that the soul receives from this aridity, while Chapter
\nxiv briefly expounds the last line of the first stanza and brings to an
\nend what the Saint desires to say with respect to the first Passive
\nNight.<\/p>\n
At only slightly greater length St. John of the Cross describes the
\nPassive Night of the Spirit, which is at once more afflictive and more
\npainful than those which have preceded it. This, nevertheless, is the
\nDark Night par excellence, of which the Saint speaks in these words:
\nThe night which we have called that of sense may and should be called a
\nkind of correction and restraint of the desire rather than purgation.
\nThe reason is that all the imperfections and disorders of the sensual
\npart have their strength and root in the spirit, where all habits, both
\ngood and bad, are brought into subjection, and thus, until these are
\npurged, the rebellions and depravities of sense cannot be purged
\nthoroughly.’ [9]<\/p>\n
Spiritual persons, we are told, do not enter the second night
\nimmediately after leaving the first; on the contrary, they generally
\npass a long time, even years, before doing so, [10] for they still have
\nmany imperfections, both habitual and actual (Chapter ii). After a
\nbrief introduction (Chapter iii), the Saint describes with some
\nfullness the nature of this spiritual purgation or dark contemplation
\nreferred to in the first stanza of his poem and the varieties of pain
\nand affliction caused by it, whether in the soul or in its faculties
\n(Chapters iv-viii). These chapters are brilliant beyond all
\ndescription; in them we seem to reach the culminating point of their
\nauthor’s mystical experience; any excerpt from them would do them an
\ninjustice. It must suffice to say that St. John of the Cross seldom
\nagain touches those same heights of sublimity.<\/p>\n
Chapter ix describes how, although these purgations seem to blind the
\nspirit, they do so only to enlighten it again with a brighter and
\nintenser light, which it is preparing itself to receive with greater
\nabundance. The following chapter makes the comparison between spiritual
\npurgation and the log of wood which gradually becomes transformed
\nthrough being immersed in fire and at last takes on the fire’s own
\nproperties. The force with which the familiar similitude is driven home
\nimpresses indelibly upon the mind the fundamental concept of this most
\nsublime of all purgations. Marvellous, indeed, are its effects, from
\nthe first enkindlings and burnings of Divine love, which are greater
\nbeyond comparison than those produced by the Night of Sense, the one
\nbeing as different from the other as is the body from the soul. For
\nthis (latter) is an enkindling of spiritual love in the soul, which, in
\nthe midst of these dark confines, feels itself to be keenly and sharply
\nwounded in strong Divine love, and to have a certain realization and
\nforetaste of God.’ [11] No less wonderful are the effects of the
\npowerful Divine illumination which from time to time enfolds the soul
\nin the splendours of glory. When the effects of the light that wounds
\nand yet illumines are combined with those of the enkindlement that
\nmelts the soul with its heat, the delights experienced are so great as
\nto be ineffable.<\/p>\n
The second line of the first stanza of the poem is expounded in three
\nadmirable chapters (xi-xiii), while one short chapter (xiv) suffices
\nfor the three lines remaining. We then embark upon the second stanza,
\nwhich describes the soul’s security in the Dark Night–due, among other
\nreasons, to its being freed not only from itself, but likewise from its
\nother enemies, which are the world and the devil.’ [12]<\/p>\n
This contemplation is not only dark, but also secret (Chapter xvii),
\nand in Chapter xviii is compared to the staircase’ of the poem. This
\ncomparison suggests to the Saint an exposition (Chapters xviii, xix) of
\nthe ten steps or degrees of love which comprise St. Bernard’s mystical
\nladder. Chapter xxi describes the soul’s disguise,’ from which the book
\npasses on (Chapters xxii, xxiii) to extol the happy chance’ which led
\nit to journey in darkness and concealment’ from its enemies, both
\nwithout and within.<\/p>\n
Chapter xxiv glosses the last line of the second stanza–my house being
\nnow at rest.’ Both the higher and the lower portions of the soul’ are
\nnow tranquillized and prepared for the desired union with the Spouse, a
\nunion which is the subject that the Saint proposed to treat in his
\ncommentary on the five remaining stanzas. As far as we know, this
\ncommentary was never written. We have only the briefest outline of what
\nwas to have been covered in the third, in which, following the same
\neffective metaphor of night, the Saint describes the excellent
\nproperties of the spiritual night of infused contemplation, through
\nwhich the soul journeys with no other guide or support, either outward
\nor inward, than the Divine love which burned in my heart.’<\/p>\n
It is difficult to express adequately the sense of loss that one feels
\nat the premature truncation of this eloquent treatise. [13] We have
\nalready given our opinion [14] upon the commentaries thought to have
\nbeen written on the final stanzas of the Dark Night.’ Did we possess
\nthem, they would explain the birth of the light–dawn’s first
\nbreathings in the heav’ns above’–which breaks through the black
\ndarkness of the Active and the Passive Nights; they would tell us, too,
\nof the soul’s further progress towards the Sun’s full brightness. It is
\ntrue, of course, that some part of this great gap is filled by St. John
\nof the Cross himself in his other treatises, but it is small
\ncompensation for the incomplete state in which he left this edifice of
\nsuch gigantic proportions that he should have given us other and
\nsmaller buildings of a somewhat similar kind. Admirable as are the
\nSpiritual Canticle and the Living Flame of Love, they are not so
\ncompletely knit into one whole as is this great double treatise. They
\nlose both in flexibility and in substance through the closeness with
\nwhich they follow the stanzas of which they are the exposition. In the
\nAscent and the Dark Night, on the other hand, we catch only the echoes
\nof the poem, which are all but lost in the resonance of the
\nphilosopher’s voice and the eloquent tones of the preacher. Nor have
\nthe other treatises the learning and the authority of these. Nowhere
\nelse does the genius of St. John of the Cross for infusing philosophy
\ninto his mystical dissertations find such an outlet as here. Nowhere
\nelse, again, is he quite so appealingly human; for, though he is human
\neven in his loftiest and sublimest passages, this intermingling of
\nphilosophy with mystical theology makes him seem particularly so. These
\ntreatises are a wonderful illustration of the theological truth that
\ngrace, far from destroying nature, ennobles and dignifies it, and of
\nthe agreement always found between the natural and the
\nsupernatural–between the principles of sound reason and the sublimest
\nmanifestations of Divine grace.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[1] Ascent, Bk. I, chap. i, sect. 2.<\/p>\n
[2] Op. cit., sect. 3.<\/p>\n
[3] Dark Night, Bk. 1, chap. iii, sect. 3.<\/p>\n
[4] Op. cit., Bk. I, chap. i, sect. 1.<\/p>\n
[5] Dark Night, Bk. 1, chap. viii, sect. 1.<\/p>\n
[6] Op. cit., Bk. I, chap. viii, sect. 2.<\/p>\n
[7] Ibid.<\/p>\n
[8] Dark Night, Bk. I, chap. x, sect. 4.<\/p>\n
[9] Op. cit., Bk. II, chap. iii, sect. 1.<\/p>\n
[10] Op. cit., Bk. II, chap. i, sect. 1.<\/p>\n
[11] Dark Night, Bk. II, chap. xi, sect. 1.<\/p>\n
[12] Dark Night, Bk. II, chap. xvi, sect. 2.<\/p>\n
[13] [On this, see Sobrino, pp. 159-66.]<\/p>\n
[14] Cf. pp. lviii-lxiii, Ascent of Mount Carmel (Image Books edition).
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
MANUSCRIPTS OF THE DARK NIGHT<\/p>\n
The autograph of the Dark Night, like that of the Ascent of Mount
\nCarmel, is unknown to us: the second seems to have disappeared in the
\nsame period as the first. There are extant, however, as many as twelve
\nearly copies of the Dark Night, some of which, though none of them is
\nas palaeographically accurate as the best copy of the Ascent, are very
\nreliable; there is no trace in them of conscious adulteration of the
\noriginal or of any kind of modification to fit the sense of any passage
\ninto a preconceived theory. We definitely prefer one of these copies to
\nthe others but we nowhere follow it so literally as to incorporate in
\nour text its evident discrepancies from its original.<\/p>\n
MS. 3,446. An early MS. in the clear masculine hand of an Andalusian:
\nMS. 3,446 in the National Library, Madrid. Like many others, this MS.
\nwas transferred to the library from the Convento de San Hermenegildo at
\nthe time of the religious persecutions in the early nineteenth century;
\nit had been presented to the Archives of the Reform by the Fathers of
\nLos Remedios, Seville–a Carmelite house founded by P. Grecian in 1574.
\nIt has no title and a fragment from the Living Flame of Love is bound
\nup with it.<\/p>\n
This MS. has only two omissions of any length; these form part
\nrespectively of Book II, Chapters xix and xxiii, dealing with the
\nPassive Night of the Spirit. It has many copyist’s errors. At the same
\ntime, its antiquity and origin, and the good faith of which it shows
\ncontinual signs, give it, in our view, primacy over the other copies
\nnow to come under consideration. It must be made clear, nevertheless,
\nthat there is no extant copy of the Dark Night as trustworthy and as
\nskilfully made as the Alcaudete MS. of the Ascent.<\/p>\n
MS. of the Carmelite Nuns of Toledo. Written in three hands, all early.
\nSave for a few slips of the copyist, it agrees with the foregoing; a
\nfew of its errors have been corrected. It bears no title, but has a
\nlong sub-title which is in effect a partial summary of the argument.<\/p>\n
MS. of the Carmelite Nuns of Valladolid. This famous convent, which was
\none of St. Teresa’s foundations, is very rich in Teresan autographs,
\nand has also a number of important documents relating to St. John of
\nthe Cross, together with some copies of his works. That here described
\nis written in a large, clear hand and probably dates from the end of
\nthe sixteenth century. It has a title similar to that of the last-named
\ncopy. With few exceptions it follows the other most important MSS.<\/p>\n
MS. Alba de Tormes. What has been said of this in the introduction to
\nthe Ascent (Image Books edition, pp. 6-7) applies also to the Dark
\nNight. It is complete, save for small omissions on the part of the
\namanuensis, the Argument’ at the beginning of the poem, the verses
\nthemselves and a few lines from Book II, Chapter vii.<\/p>\n
MS. 6,624. This copy is almost identical with the foregoing. It omits
\nthe Argument’ and the poem itself but not the lines from Book II,
\nChapter vii.<\/p>\n
MS. 8,795. This contains the Dark Night, Spiritual Canticle, Living
\nFlame of Love, a number of poems by St. John of the Cross and the
\nSpiritual Colloquies between Christ and the soul His Bride. It is
\nwritten in various hands, all very early and some feminine. A note by
\nP. Andres de la Encarnacion, on the reverse of the first folio, records
\nthat the copy was presented to the Archives of the Reform by the
\nDiscalced Carmelite nuns of Baeza. This convent was founded in 1589,
\ntwo years before the Saint’s death, and the copy may well date from
\nabout this period. On the second folio comes the poem I entered in–I
\nknew not where.’ On the reverse of the third folio begins a kind of
\npreface to the Dark Night, opening with the words: Begin the stanzas by
\nmeans of which a soul may occupy itself and become fervent in the love
\nof God. It deals with the Dark Night and is divided into two books. The
\nfirst treats of the purgation of sense, and the second of the spiritual
\npurgation of man. It was written by P. Fr. Juan de la Cruz, Discalced
\nCarmelite.’ On the next folio, a so-called Preface: To the Reader’
\nbegins: As a beginning and an explanation of these two purgations of
\nthe Dark Night which are to be expounded hereafter, this chapter will
\nshow how narrow is the path that leads to eternal life and how
\ncompletely detached and disencumbered must be those that are to enter
\nthereby.’ This fundamental idea is developed for the space of two
\nfolios. There follows a sonnet on the Dark Night, [15] and immediately
\nafterwards comes the text of the treatise.<\/p>\n
The copy contains many errors, but its only omission is that of the
\nlast chapter. There is no trace in it of any attempt to modify its
\noriginal; indeed, the very nature and number of the copyist’s errors
\nare a testimony to his good faith.<\/p>\n
MS. 12,658. A note by P. Andres states that he acquired it in Madrid
\nbut has no more detailed recollection of its provenance. The Dark
\nNight,’ it adds, begins on folio 43; our holy father is described
\nsimply as ?the second friar of the new Reformation,? [16] which is
\nclear evidence of its antiquity.’<\/p>\n
The Codex contains a number of opuscules, transcribed no doubt with a
\ndevotional aim by the copyist. Its epoch is probably the end of the
\nsixteenth century; it is certainly earlier than the editions. There is
\nno serious omission except that of six lines of the Argument.’ The
\nauthors of the other works copied include St. Augustine, B. Juan de
\nAvila, P. Baltasar Alvarez and P. Tomas de Jesus.<\/p>\n
The copies which remain to be described are all mutilated or
\nabbreviated and can be disposed of briefly:<\/p>\n
MS. 13,498. This copy omits less of the Dark Night than of the Ascent
\nbut few pages are without their omissions. In one place a meticulous
\npair of scissors has removed the lower half of a folio on which the
\nSaint deals with spiritual luxury.<\/p>\n
MS. of the Carmelite Friars of Toledo. Dates from early in the
\nseventeenth century and has numerous omissions, especially in the
\nchapters on the Passive Night of the Spirit. The date is given (in the
\nsame hand as that which copies the title) as 1618. This MS. also
\ncontains an opuscule by Suso and another entitled Brief compendium of
\nthe most eminent Christian perfection of P. Fr. Juan de la Cruz.’<\/p>\n
MS. 18,160. The copyist has treated the Dark Night little better than
\nthe Ascent; except from the first ten and the last three chapters, he
\nomits freely.<\/p>\n
MS. 12,411. Entitled by its copyist ‘spiritual Compendium,’ this MS.
\ncontains several short works of devotion, including one by Ruysbroeck.
\nOf St. John of the Cross’s works it copies the Spiritual Canticle as
\nwell as the Dark Night; the latter is headed: ‘song of one soul alone.’
\nIt also contains a number of poems, some of them by the Saint, and many
\npassages from St. Teresa. It is in several hands, all of the
\nseventeenth century. The copy of the Dark Night is most unsatisfactory;
\nthere are omissions and abbreviations everywhere.<\/p>\n
M.S. of the Carmelite Nuns of Pamplona. This MS. also omits and
\nabbreviates continually, especially in the chapters on the Passive
\nNight of Sense, which are reduced to a mere skeleton.<\/p>\n
Editio princeps. This is much more faithful to its original in the Dark
\nNight than in the Ascent. Both the passages suppressed [17] and the
\ninterpolations [18] are relatively few and unimportant. Modifications
\nof phraseology are more frequent and alterations are also made with the
\naim of correcting hyperbaton. In the first book about thirty lines are
\nsuppressed; in the second, about ninety. All changes which are of any
\nimportance have been shown in the notes.<\/p>\n
The present edition. We have given preference, as a general rule, to
\nMS. 3,446, subjecting it, however, to a rigorous comparison with the
\nother copies. Mention has already been made in the introduction to the
\nAscent (Image Books edition, pp. lxiii-lxvi) of certain apparent
\nanomalies and a certain lack of uniformity in the Saint’s method of
\ndividing his commentaries. This is nowhere more noticeable than in the
\nDark Night. Instead of dividing his treatise into books, each with its
\nproper title, the Saint abandons this method and uses titles only
\noccasionally. As this makes comprehension of his argument the more
\ndifficult, we have adopted the divisions which were introduced by P.
\nSalablanca and have been copied by successive editors.<\/p>\n
M. Baruzi (Bulletin Hispanique, 1922, Vol. xxiv, pp. 18-40) complains
\nthat this division weighs down the spiritual rhythm of the treatise and
\ninterrupts its movement. We do not agree. In any case, we greatly
\nprefer the gain of clarity, even if the rhythm occasionally halts, to
\nthe other alternative–the constant halting of the understanding. We
\nhave, of course, indicated every place where the title is taken from
\nthe editio princeps and was not the work of the author.<\/p>\n
The following abbreviations are adopted in the footnotes:<\/p>\n
A = MS. of the Discalced Carmelite Friars of Alba.<\/p>\n
B = MS. 6,624 (National Library, Madrid).<\/p>\n
Bz. = MS. 8,795 (N.L.M.).<\/p>\n
C = MS. 13,498 (N.L.M.).<\/p>\n
G = MS. 18,160 (N.L.M.).<\/p>\n
H = MS. 3,446 (N.L.M.).<\/p>\n
M = MS. of the Discalced Carmelite Nuns of Toledo.<\/p>\n
Mtr. = MS. 12,658.<\/p>\n
P = MS. of the Discalced Carmelite Friars of Toledo.<\/p>\n
V = MS. of the Discalced Carmelite Nuns of Valladolid.<\/p>\n
E.p. = Editio princeps (1618).<\/p>\n
MS. 12,411 and the MS. of the Discalced Carmelite nuns of Pamplona are
\ncited without abbreviations.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[15] [It contains a series of paradoxical statements, after the style
\nof those in Ascent, Bk. I, chap. xiii, and is of no great literary
\nmerit. P. Silverio reproduces it in Spanish on p. 302 (note) of his
\nfirst volume.]<\/p>\n
[16] The first friar’ would be P. Antonio de Jesus, who was senior to
\nSt. John of the Cross in the Carmelite Order, though not in the Reform.<\/p>\n
[17] The longest of these are one of ten lines in Bk. I, chap. iv, [in
\nthe original] and those of Bk. II, chaps. vii, viii, xii, xiii, which
\nvary from eleven to twenty-three lines. Bk. II, chap. xxiii, has also
\nconsiderable modifications.<\/p>\n
[18] The chief interpolation is in Bk. I, chap. x.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
DARK NIGHT<\/p>\n
Exposition of the stanzas describing the method followed by the soul
\nin its journey upon the spiritual road to the attainment of the
\nperfect union of love with God, to the extent that is possible in
\nthis life. Likewise are described the properties belonging to the
\nsoul that has attained to the said perfection, according as they are
\ncontained in the same stanzas.<\/p>\n
PROLOGUE<\/p>\n
IN this book are first set down all the stanzas which are to be
\nexpounded; afterwards, each of the stanzas is expounded separately,
\nbeing set down before its exposition; and then each line is expounded
\nseparately and in turn, the line itself also being set down before the
\nexposition. In the first two stanzas are expounded the effects of the
\ntwo spiritual purgations: of the sensual part of man and of the
\nspiritual part. In the other six are expounded various and wondrous
\neffects of the spiritual illumination and union of love with God.<\/p>\n
STANZAS OF THE SOUL<\/p>\n
1. On a dark night, Kindled in love with yearnings–oh, happy
\nchance!–
\nI went forth without being observed, My house being now at rest.<\/p>\n
2. In darkness and secure, By the secret ladder, disguised–oh,
\nhappy chance!–
\nIn darkness and in concealment, My house being now at rest.<\/p>\n
3. In the happy night, In secret, when none saw me,
\nNor I beheld aught, Without light or guide, save that which burned
\nin my heart.<\/p>\n
4. This light guided me More surely than the light of noonday
\nTo the place where he (well I knew who!) was awaiting me– A place
\nwhere none appeared.<\/p>\n
5. Oh, night that guided me, Oh, night more lovely than the dawn,
\nOh, night that joined Beloved with lover, Lover transformed in the
\nBeloved!<\/p>\n
6. Upon my flowery breast, Kept wholly for himself alone,
\nThere he stayed sleeping, and I caressed him, And the fanning of the
\ncedars made a breeze.<\/p>\n
7. The breeze blew from the turret As I parted his locks;
\nWith his gentle hand he wounded my neck And caused all my senses to
\nbe suspended.<\/p>\n
8. I remained, lost in oblivion; My face I reclined on the Beloved.
\nAll ceased and I abandoned myself, Leaving my cares forgotten among
\nthe lilies.<\/p>\n
Begins the exposition of the stanzas which treat of the way and manner
\nwhich the soul follows upon the road of the union of love with God.<\/p>\n
Before we enter upon the exposition of these stanzas, it is well to
\nunderstand here that the soul that utters them is now in the state of
\nperfection, which is the union of love with God, having already passed
\nthrough severe trials and straits, by means of spiritual exercise in
\nthe narrow way of eternal life whereof Our Saviour speaks in the
\nGospel, along which way the soul ordinarily passes in order to reach
\nthis high and happy union with God. Since this road (as the Lord
\nHimself says likewise) is so strait, and since there are so few that
\nenter by it, [19] the soul considers it a great happiness and good
\nchance to have passed along it to the said perfection of love, as it
\nsings in this first stanza, calling this strait road with full
\npropriety dark night,’ as will be explained hereafter in the lines of
\nthe said stanza. The soul, then, rejoicing at having passed along this
\nnarrow road whence so many blessings have come to it, speaks after this
\nmanner.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[19] St. Matthew vii, 14.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
BOOK THE FIRST<\/p>\n
Which treats of the Night of Sense.<\/p>\n
STANZA THE FIRST<\/p>\n
On a dark night, Kindled in love with yearnings–oh, happy chance!–
\nI went forth without being observed, My house being now at rest.<\/p>\n
EXPOSITION<\/p>\n
IN this first stanza the soul relates the way and manner which it
\nfollowed in going forth, as to its affection, from itself and from all
\nthings, and in dying to them all and to itself, by means of true
\nmortification, in order to attain to living the sweet and delectable
\nlife of love with God; and it says that this going forth from itself
\nand from all things was a dark night,’ by which, as will be explained
\nhereafter, is here understood purgative contemplation, which causes
\npassively in the soul the negation of itself and of all things referred
\nto above.<\/p>\n
2. And this going forth it says here that it was able to accomplish in
\nthe strength and ardour which love for its Spouse gave to it for that
\npurpose in the dark contemplation aforementioned. Herein it extols the
\ngreat happiness which it found in journeying to God through this night
\nwith such signal success that none of the three enemies, which are
\nworld, devil and flesh (who are they that ever impede this road), could
\nhinder it; inasmuch as the aforementioned night of purgative [20]
\ncontemplation lulled to sleep and mortified, in the house of its
\nsensuality, all the passions and desires with respect to their
\nmischievous desires and motions. The line, then, says:<\/p>\n
On a dark night
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER I<\/p>\n
Sets down the first line and begins to treat of the imperfections of
\nbeginners.<\/p>\n
INTO this dark night souls begin to enter when God draws them forth
\nfrom the state of beginners–which is the state of those that meditate
\non the spiritual road–and begins to set them in the state of
\nprogressives–which is that of those who are already contemplatives–to
\nthe end that, after passing through it, they may arrive at the state of
\nthe perfect, which is that of the Divine union of the soul with God.
\nWherefore, to the end that we may the better understand and explain
\nwhat night is this through which the soul passes, and for what cause
\nGod sets it therein, it will be well here to touch first of all upon
\ncertain characteristics of beginners (which, although we treat them
\nwith all possible brevity, will not fail to be of service likewise to
\nthe beginners themselves), in order that, realizing the weakness of the
\nstate wherein they are, they may take courage, and may desire that God
\nwill bring them into this night, wherein the soul is strengthened and
\nconfirmed in the virtues, and made ready for the inestimable delights
\nof the love of God. And, although we may tarry here for a time, it will
\nnot be for longer than is necessary, so that we may go on to speak at
\nonce of this dark night.<\/p>\n
2. It must be known, then, that the soul, after it has been definitely
\nconverted to the service of God, is, as a rule, spiritually nurtured
\nand caressed by God, even as is the tender child by its loving mother,
\nwho warms it with the heat of her bosom and nurtures it with sweet milk
\nand soft and pleasant food, and carries it and caresses it in her arms;
\nbut, as the child grows bigger, the mother gradually ceases caressing
\nit, and, hiding her tender love, puts bitter aloes upon her sweet
\nbreast, sets down the child from her arms and makes it walk upon its
\nfeet, so that it may lose the habits of a child and betake itself to
\nmore important and substantial occupations. The loving mother is like
\nthe grace of God, for, as soon as the soul is regenerated by its new
\nwarmth and fervour for the service of God, He treats it in the same
\nway; He makes it to find spiritual milk, sweet and delectable, in all
\nthe things of God, without any labour of its own, and also great
\npleasure in spiritual exercises, for here God is giving to it the
\nbreast of His tender love, even as to a tender child.<\/p>\n
3. Therefore, such a soul finds its delight in spending long
\nperiods–perchance whole nights–in prayer; penances are its pleasures;
\nfasts its joys; and its consolations are to make use of the sacraments
\nand to occupy itself in Divine things. In the which things spiritual
\npersons (though taking part in them with great efficacy and persistence
\nand using and treating them with great care) often find themselves,
\nspiritually speaking, very weak and imperfect. For since they are moved
\nto these things and to these spiritual exercises by the consolation and
\npleasure that they find in them, and since, too, they have not been
\nprepared for them by the practice of earnest striving in the virtues,
\nthey have many faults and imperfections with respect to these spiritual
\nactions of theirs; for, after all, any man’s actions correspond to the
\nhabit of perfection attained by him. And, as these persons have not had
\nthe opportunity of acquiring the said habits of strength, they have
\nnecessarily to work like feebler children, feebly. In order that this
\nmay be seen more clearly, and likewise how much these beginners in the
\nvirtues lacks with respect to the works in which they so readily engage
\nwith the pleasure aforementioned, we shall describe it by reference to
\nthe seven capital sins, each in its turn, indicating some of the many
\nimperfections which they have under each heading; wherein it will be
\nclearly seen how like to children are these persons in all they do. And
\nit will also be seen how many blessings the dark night of which we
\nshall afterwards treat brings with it, since it cleanses the soul and
\npurifies it from all these imperfections.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER II<\/p>\n
Of certain spiritual imperfections which beginners have with respect
\nto the habit of pride.<\/p>\n
AS these beginners feel themselves to be very fervent and diligent in
\nspiritual things and devout exercises, from this prosperity (although
\nit is true that holy things of their own nature cause humility) there
\noften comes to them, through their imperfections, a certain kind of
\nsecret pride, whence they come to have some degree of satisfaction with
\ntheir works and with themselves. And hence there comes to them likewise
\na certain desire, which is somewhat vain, and at times very vain, to
\nspeak of spiritual things in the presence of others, and sometimes even
\nto teach such things rather than to learn them. They condemn others in
\ntheir heart when they see that they have not the kind of devotion which
\nthey themselves desire; and sometimes they even say this in words,
\nherein resembling the Pharisee, who boasted of himself, praising God
\nfor his own good works and despising the publican. [21]<\/p>\n
2. In these persons the devil often increases the fervour that they
\nhave and the desire to perform these and other works more frequently,
\nso that their pride and presumption may grow greater. For the devil
\nknows quite well that all these works and virtues which they perform
\nare not only valueless to them, but even become vices in them. And such
\na degree of evil are some of these persons wont to reach that they
\nwould have none appear good save themselves; and thus, in deed and
\nword, whenever the opportunity occurs, they condemn them and slander
\nthem, beholding the mote in their brother’s eye and not considering the
\nbeam which is in their own; [22] they strain at another’s gnat and
\nthemselves swallow a camel. [23]<\/p>\n
3. Sometimes, too, when their spiritual masters, such as confessors and
\nsuperiors, do not approve of their spirit and behavior (for they are
\nanxious that all they do shall be esteemed and praised), they consider
\nthat they do not understand them, or that, because they do not approve
\nof this and comply with that, their confessors are themselves not
\nspiritual. And so they immediately desire and contrive to find some one
\nelse who will fit in with their tastes; for as a rule they desire to
\nspeak of spiritual matters with those who they think will praise and
\nesteem what they do, and they flee, as they would from death, from
\nthose who disabuse them in order to lead them into a safe
\nroad–sometimes they even harbour ill-will against them. Presuming
\nthus, [24] they are wont to resolve much and accomplish very little.
\nSometimes they are anxious that others shall realize how spiritual and
\ndevout they are, to which end they occasionally give outward evidence
\nthereof in movements, sighs and other ceremonies; and at times they are
\napt to fall into certain ecstasies, in public rather than in secret,
\nwherein the devil aids them, and they are pleased that this should be
\nnoticed, and are often eager that it should be noticed more. [25]<\/p>\n
4. Many such persons desire to be the favourites of their confessors
\nand to become intimate with them, as a result of which there beset them
\ncontinual occasions of envy and disquiet. [26] They are too much
\nembarrassed to confess their sins nakedly, lest their confessors should
\nthink less of them, so they palliate them and make them appear less
\nevil, and thus it is to excuse themselves rather than to accuse
\nthemselves that they go to confession. And sometimes they seek another
\nconfessor to tell the wrongs that they have done, so that their own
\nconfessor shall think they have done nothing wrong at all, but only
\ngood; and thus they always take pleasure in telling him what is good,
\nand sometimes in such terms as make it appear to be greater than it is
\nrather than less, desiring that he may think them to be good, when it
\nwould be greater humility in them, as we shall say, to depreciate it,
\nand to desire that neither he nor anyone else should consider them of
\naccount.<\/p>\n
5. Some of these beginners, too, make little of their faults, and at
\nother times become over-sad when they see themselves fall into them,
\nthinking themselves to have been saints already; and thus they become
\nangry and impatient with themselves, which is another imperfection.
\nOften they beseech God, with great yearnings, that He will take from
\nthem their imperfections and faults, but they do this that they may
\nfind themselves at peace, and may not be troubled by them, rather than
\nfor God’s sake; not realizing that, if He should take their
\nimperfections from them, they would probably become prouder and more
\npresumptuous still. They dislike praising others and love to be praised
\nthemselves; sometimes they seek out such praise. Herein they are like
\nthe foolish virgins, who, when their lamps could not be lit, sought oil
\nfrom others. [27]<\/p>\n
6. From these imperfections some souls go on to develop [28] many very
\ngrave ones, which do them great harm. But some have fewer and some
\nmore, and some, only the first motions thereof or little beyond these;
\nand there are hardly any such beginners who, at the time of these signs
\nof fervour, [29] fall not into some of these errors. [30] But those who
\nat this time are going on to perfection proceed very differently and
\nwith quite another temper of spirit; for they progress by means of
\nhumility and are greatly edified, not only thinking naught of their own
\naffairs, but having very little satisfaction with themselves; they
\nconsider all others as far better, and usually have a holy envy of
\nthem, and an eagerness to serve God as they do. For the greater is
\ntheir fervour, and the more numerous are the works that they perform,
\nand the greater is the pleasure that they take in them, as they
\nprogress in humility, the more do they realize how much God deserves of
\nthem, and how little is all that they do for His sake; and thus, the
\nmore they do, the less are they satisfied. So much would they gladly do
\nfrom charity and love for Him, that all they do seems to them naught;
\nand so greatly are they importuned, occupied and absorbed by this
\nloving anxiety that they never notice what others do or do not; or if
\nthey do notice it, they always believe, as I say, that all others are
\nfar better than they themselves. Wherefore, holding themselves as of
\nlittle worth, they are anxious that others too should thus hold them,
\nand should despise and depreciate that which they do. And further, if
\nmen should praise and esteem them, they can in no wise believe what
\nthey say; it seems to them strange that anyone should say these good
\nthings of them.<\/p>\n
7. Together with great tranquillity and humbleness, these souls have a
\ndeep desire to be taught by anyone who can bring them profit; they are
\nthe complete opposite of those of whom we have spoken above, who would
\nfain be always teaching, and who, when others seem to be teaching them,
\ntake the words from their mouths as if they knew them already. These
\nsouls, on the other hand, being far from desiring to be the masters of
\nany, are very ready to travel and set out on another road than that
\nwhich they are actually following, if they be so commanded, because
\nthey never think that they are right in anything whatsoever. They
\nrejoice when others are praised; they grieve only because they serve
\nnot God like them. They have no desire to speak of the things that they
\ndo, because they think so little of them that they are ashamed to speak
\nof them even to their spiritual masters, since they seem to them to be
\nthings that merit not being spoken of. They are more anxious to speak
\nof their faults and sins, or that these should be recognized rather
\nthan their virtues; and thus they incline to talk of their souls with
\nthose who account their actions and their spirituality of little value.
\nThis is a characteristic of the spirit which is simple, pure, genuine
\nand very pleasing to God. For as the wise Spirit of God dwells in these
\nhumble souls, He moves them and inclines them to keep His treasures
\nsecretly within and likewise to cast out from themselves all evil. God
\ngives this grace to the humble, together with the other virtues, even
\nas He denies it to the proud.<\/p>\n
8. These souls will give their heart’s blood to anyone that serves God,
\nand will help others to serve Him as much as in them lies. The
\nimperfections into which they see themselves fall they bear with
\nhumility, meekness of spirit and a loving fear of God, hoping in Him.
\nBut souls who in the beginning journey with this kind of perfection
\nare, as I understand, and as has been said, a minority, and very few
\nare those who we can be glad do not fall into the opposite errors. For
\nthis reason, as we shall afterwards say, God leads into the dark night
\nthose whom He desires to purify from all these imperfections so that He
\nmay bring them farther onward.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[21] St. Luke xviii, 11-12.<\/p>\n
[22] St. Matthew vii, 3.<\/p>\n
[23] St. Matthew xxiii, 24.<\/p>\n
[24] [Lit., Presuming.’]<\/p>\n
[25] [The original merely has: and are often eager.’]<\/p>\n
[26] [Lit., a thousand envies and disquietudes.’]<\/p>\n
[27] St. Matthew xxv, 8. [Lit., who, having their lamps dead, sought
\noil from without.’]<\/p>\n
[28] [Lit., to have.’]<\/p>\n
[29] [Lit., these fervours.’]<\/p>\n
[30] [Lit., into something of this.’]
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER III<\/p>\n
Of some imperfections which some of these souls are apt to have,
\nwith respect to the second capital sin, which is avarice, in the
\nspiritual sense.<\/p>\n
MANY of these beginners have also at times great spiritual avarice.
\nThey will be found to be discontented with the spirituality which God
\ngives them; and they are very disconsolate and querulous because they
\nfind not in spiritual things the consolation that they would desire.
\nMany can never have enough of listening to counsels and learning
\nspiritual precepts, and of possessing and reading many books which
\ntreat of this matter, and they spend their time on all these things
\nrather than on works of mortification and the perfecting of the inward
\npoverty of spirit which should be theirs. Furthermore, they burden
\nthemselves with images and rosaries which are very curious; now they
\nput down one, now take up another; now they change about, now change
\nback again; now they want this kind of thing, now that, preferring one
\nkind of cross to another, because it is more curious. And others you
\nwill see adorned with agnusdeis [31] and relics and tokens, [32] like
\nchildren with trinkets. Here I condemn the attachment of the heart, and
\nthe affection which they have for the nature, multitude and curiosity
\nof these things, inasmuch as it is quite contrary to poverty of spirit
\nwhich considers only the substance of devotion, makes use only of what
\nsuffices for that end and grows weary of this other kind of
\nmultiplicity and curiosity. For true devotion must issue from the
\nheart, and consist in the truth and substances alone of what is
\nrepresented by spiritual things; all the rest is affection and
\nattachment proceeding from imperfection; and in order that one may pass
\nto any kind of perfection it is necessary for such desires to be
\nkilled.<\/p>\n
2. I knew a person who for more than ten years made use of a cross
\nroughly formed from a branch [33] that had been blessed, fastened with
\na pin twisted round it; he had never ceased using it, and he always
\ncarried it about with him until I took it from him; and this was a
\nperson of no small sense and understanding. And I saw another who said
\nhis prayers using beads that were made of bones from the spine of a
\nfish; his devotion was certainly no less precious on that account in
\nthe sight of God, for it is clear that these things carried no devotion
\nin their workmanship or value. Those, then, who start from these
\nbeginnings and make good progress attach themselves to no visible
\ninstruments, nor do they burden themselves with such, nor desire to
\nknow more than is necessary in order that they may act well; for they
\nset their eyes only on being right with God and on pleasing Him, and
\ntherein consists their covetousness. And thus with great generosity
\nthey give away all that they have, and delight to know that they have
\nit not, for God’s sake and for charity to their neighbour, no matter
\nwhether these be spiritual things or temporal. For, as I say, they set
\ntheir eyes only upon the reality of interior perfection, which is to
\ngive pleasure to God and in naught to give pleasure to themselves.<\/p>\n
3. But neither from these imperfections nor from those others can the
\nsoul be perfectly purified until God brings it into the passive
\npurgation of that dark night whereof we shall speak presently. It
\nbefits the soul, however, to contrive to labour, in so far as it can,
\non its own account, to the end that it may purge and perfect itself,
\nand thus may merit being taken by God into that Divine care wherein it
\nbecomes healed of all things that it was unable of itself to cure.
\nBecause, however greatly the soul itself labours, it cannot actively
\npurify itself so as to be in the least degree prepared for the Divine
\nunion of perfection of love, if God takes not its hand and purges it
\nnot in that dark fire, in the way and manner that we have to describe.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[31] The agnusdei was a wax medal with a representation of the lamb
\nstamped upon it, often blessed by the Pope; at the time of the Saint
\nsuch medals were greatly sought after, as we know from various
\nreferences in St. Teresa’s letters.<\/p>\n
[32] [The word nomina, translated token,’ and normally meaning list, or
\nroll,’ refers to a relic on which were written the names of saints. In
\nmodern Spanish it can denote a medal or amulet used superstitiously.]<\/p>\n
[33] [No doubt a branch of palm, olive or rosemary, blessed in church
\non Palm Sunday, like the English palm crosses of to-day. Palm Sunday’
\nis in Spanish Domingo de ramos: Branch Sunday.’]
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER IV<\/p>\n
Of other imperfections which these beginners are apt to have with
\nrespect to the third sin, which is luxury.<\/p>\n
MANY of these beginners have many other imperfections than those which
\nI am describing with respect to each of the deadly sins, but these I
\nset aside, in order to avoid prolixity, touching upon a few of the most
\nimportant, which are, as it were, the origin and cause of the rest. And
\nthus, with respect to this sin of luxury (leaving apart the falling of
\nspiritual persons into this sin, since my intent is to treat of the
\nimperfections which have to be purged by the dark night), they have
\nmany imperfections which might be described as spiritual luxury, not
\nbecause they are so, but because the imperfections proceed from
\nspiritual things. For it often comes to pass that, in their very
\nspiritual exercises, when they are powerless to prevent it, there arise
\nand assert themselves in the sensual part of the soul impure acts and
\nmotions, and sometimes this happens even when the spirit is deep in
\nprayer, or engaged in the Sacrament of Penance or in the Eucharist.
\nThese things are not, as I say, in their power; they proceed from one
\nof three causes.<\/p>\n
2. The first cause from which they often proceed is the pleasure which
\nhuman nature takes in spiritual things. For when the spirit and the
\nsense are pleased, every part of a man is moved by that pleasure [34]
\nto delight according to its proportion and nature. For then the spirit,
\nwhich is the higher part, is moved to pleasure [35] and delight in God;
\nand the sensual nature, which is the lower part, is moved to pleasure
\nand delight of the senses, because it cannot possess and lay hold upon
\naught else, and it therefore lays hold upon that which comes nearest to
\nitself, which is the impure and sensual. Thus it comes to pass that the
\nsoul is in deep prayer with God according to the spirit, and, on the
\nother hand, according to sense it is passively conscious, not without
\ngreat displeasure, of rebellions and motions and acts of the senses,
\nwhich often happens in Communion, for when the soul receives joy and
\ncomfort in this act of love, because this Lord bestows it (since it is
\nto that end that He gives Himself), the sensual nature takes that which
\nis its own likewise, as we have said, after its manner. Now as, after
\nall, these two parts are combined in one individual, they ordinarily
\nboth participate in that which one of them receives, each after its
\nmanner; for, as the philosopher says, everything that is received is in
\nthe recipient after the manner of the same recipient. And thus, in
\nthese beginnings, and even when the soul has made some progress, its
\nsensual part, being imperfect, oftentimes receives the Spirit of God
\nwith the same imperfection. Now when this sensual part is renewed by
\nthe purgation of the dark night which we shall describe, it no longer
\nhas these weaknesses; for it is no longer this part that receives
\naught, but rather it is itself received into the Spirit. And thus it
\nthen has everything after the manner of the Spirit.<\/p>\n
3. The second cause whence these rebellions sometimes proceed is the
\ndevil, who, in order to disquiet and disturb the soul, at times when it
\nis at prayer or is striving to pray, contrives to stir up these motions
\nof impurity in its nature; and if the soul gives heed to any of these,
\nthey cause it great harm. For through fear of these not only do persons
\nbecome lax in prayer–which is the aim of the devil when he begins to
\nstrive with them–but some give up prayer altogether, because they
\nthink that these things attack them more during that exercise than
\napart from it, which is true, since the devil attacks them then more
\nthan at other times, so that they may give up spiritual exercises. And
\nnot only so, but he succeeds in portraying to them very vividly things
\nthat are most foul and impure, and at times are very closely related to
\ncertain spiritual things and persons that are of profit to their souls,
\nin order to terrify them and make them fearful; so that those who are
\naffected by this dare not even look at anything or meditate upon
\nanything, because they immediately encounter this temptation. And upon
\nthose who are inclined to melancholy this acts with such effect that
\nthey become greatly to be pitied since they are suffering so sadly; for
\nthis trial reaches such a point in certain persons, when they have this
\nevil humour, that they believe it to be clear that the devil is ever
\npresent with them and that they have no power to prevent this, although
\nsome of these persons can prevent his attack by dint of great effort
\nand labour. When these impurities attack such souls through the medium
\nof melancholy, they are not as a rule freed from them until they have
\nbeen cured of that kind of humour, unless the dark night has entered
\nthe soul, and rids them of all impurities, one after another. [36]<\/p>\n
4. The third source whence these impure motions are apt to proceed in
\norder to make war upon the soul is often the fear which such persons
\nhave conceived for these impure representations and motions. Something
\nthat they see or say or think brings them to their mind, and this makes
\nthem afraid, so that they suffer from them through no fault of their
\nown.<\/p>\n
5. There are also certain souls of so tender and frail a nature that,
\nwhen there comes to them some spiritual consolation or some grace in
\nprayer, the spirit of luxury is with them immediately, inebriating and
\ndelighting their sensual nature in such manner that it is as if they
\nwere plunged into the enjoyment and pleasure of this sin; and the
\nenjoyment remains, together with the consolation, passively, and
\nsometimes they are able to see that certain impure and unruly acts have
\ntaken place. The reason for this is that, since these natures are, as I
\nsay, frail and tender, their humours are stirred up and their blood is
\nexcited at the least disturbance. And hence come these motions; and the
\nsame thing happens to such souls when they are enkindled with anger or
\nsuffer any disturbance or grief. [37]<\/p>\n
6. Sometimes, again, there arises within these spiritual persons,
\nwhether they be speaking or performing spiritual actions, a certain
\nvigour and bravado, through their having regard to persons who are
\npresent, and before these persons they display a certain kind of vain
\ngratification. This also arises from luxury of spirit, after the manner
\nwherein we here understand it, which is accompanied as a rule by
\ncomplacency in the will.<\/p>\n
7. Some of these persons make friendships of a spiritual kind with
\nothers, which oftentimes arise from luxury and not from spirituality;
\nthis may be known to be the case when the remembrance of that
\nfriendship causes not the remembrance and love of God to grow, but
\noccasions remorse of conscience. For, when the friendship is purely
\nspiritual, the love of God grows with it; and the more the soul
\nremembers it, the more it remembers the love of God, and the greater
\nthe desire it has for God; so that, as the one grows, the other grows
\nalso. For the spirit of God has this property, that it increases good
\nby adding to it more good, inasmuch as there is likeness and conformity
\nbetween them. But, when this love arises from the vice of sensuality
\naforementioned, it produces the contrary effects; for the more the one
\ngrows, the more the other decreases, and the remembrance of it
\nlikewise. If that sensual love grows, it will at once be observed that
\nthe soul’s love of God is becoming colder, and that it is forgetting
\nHim as it remembers that love; there comes to it, too, a certain
\nremorse of conscience. And, on the other hand, if the love of God grows
\nin the soul, that other love becomes cold and is forgotten; for, as the
\ntwo are contrary to one another, not only does the one not aid the
\nother, but the one which predominates quenches and confounds the other,
\nand becomes strengthened in itself, as the philosophers say. Wherefore
\nOur Saviour said in the Gospel: That which is born of the flesh is
\nflesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit.’ [38] That is to
\nsay, the love which is born of sensuality ends in sensuality, and that
\nwhich is of the spirit ends in the spirit of God and causes it to grow.
\nThis is the difference that exists between these two kinds of love,
\nwhereby we may know them.<\/p>\n
8. When the soul enters the dark night, it brings these kinds of love
\nunder control. It strengthens and purifies the one, namely that which
\nis according to God; and the other it removes and brings to an end; and
\nin the beginning it causes both to be lost sight of, as we shall say
\nhereafter.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[34] [Lit., recreation.’]<\/p>\n
[35] [Lit., recreation.’]<\/p>\n
[36] [Lit., of everything.’]<\/p>\n
[37] All writers who comment upon this delicate matter go into lengthy
\nand learned explanations of it, though in reality there is little that
\nneeds to be added to the Saint’s clear and apt exposition. It will be
\nremembered that St. Teresa once wrote to her brother Lorenzo, who
\nsuffered in this way: As to those stirrings of sense. . . . I am quite
\nclear they are of no account, so the best thing is to make no account
\nof them’ (LL. 168). The most effective means of calming souls tormented
\nby these favours is to commend them to a discreet and wise director
\nwhose counsel they may safely follow. The Illuminists committed the
\ngrossest errors in dealing with this matter.<\/p>\n
[38] St. John iii, 6.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER V<\/p>\n
Of the imperfections into which beginners fall with respect to the
\nsin of wrath.<\/p>\n
BY reason of the concupiscence which many beginners have for spiritual
\nconsolations, their experience of these consolations is very commonly
\naccompanied by many imperfections proceeding from the sin of wrath;
\nfor, when their delight and pleasure in spiritual things come to an
\nend, they naturally become embittered, and bear that lack of sweetness
\nwhich they have to suffer with a bad grace, which affects all that they
\ndo; and they very easily become irritated over the smallest
\nmatter–sometimes, indeed, none can tolerate them. This frequently
\nhappens after they have been very pleasantly recollected in prayer
\naccording to sense; when their pleasure and delight therein come to an
\nend, their nature is naturally vexed and disappointed, just as is the
\nchild when they take it from the breast of which it was enjoying the
\nsweetness. There is no sin in this natural vexation, when it is not
\npermitted to indulge itself, but only imperfection, which must be
\npurged by the aridity and severity of the dark night.<\/p>\n
2. There are other of these spiritual persons, again, who fall into
\nanother kind of spiritual wrath: this happens when they become
\nirritated at the sins of others, and keep watch on those others with a
\nsort of uneasy zeal. At times the impulse comes to them to reprove them
\nangrily, and occasionally they go so far as to indulge it [39] and set
\nthemselves up as masters of virtue. All this is contrary to spiritual
\nmeekness.<\/p>\n
3. There are others who are vexed with themselves when they observe
\ntheir own imperfectness, and display an impatience that is not
\nhumility; so impatient are they about this that they would fain be
\nsaints in a day. Many of these persons purpose to accomplish a great
\ndeal and make grand resolutions; yet, as they are not humble and have
\nno misgivings about themselves, the more resolutions they make, the
\ngreater is their fall and the greater their annoyance, since they have
\nnot the patience to wait for that which God will give them when it
\npleases Him; this likewise is contrary to the spiritual meekness
\naforementioned, which cannot be wholly remedied save by the purgation
\nof the dark night. Some souls, on the other hand, are so patient as
\nregards the progress which they desire that God would gladly see them
\nless so.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[39] [Lit. they even do it.’]
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER VI<\/p>\n
Of imperfections with respect to spiritual gluttony.<\/p>\n
WITH respect to the fourth sin, which is spiritual gluttony, there is
\nmuch to be said, for there is scarce one of these beginners who,
\nhowever satisfactory his progress, falls not into some of the many
\nimperfections which come to these beginners with respect to this sin,
\non account of the sweetness which they find at first in spiritual
\nexercises. For many of these, lured by the sweetness and pleasure which
\nthey find in such exercises, strive more after spiritual sweetness than
\nafter spiritual purity and discretion, which is that which God regards
\nand accepts throughout the spiritual journey. [40] Therefore, besides
\nthe imperfections into which the seeking for sweetness of this kind
\nmakes them fall, the gluttony which they now have makes them
\ncontinually go to extremes, so that they pass beyond the limits of
\nmoderation within which the virtues are acquired and wherein they have
\ntheir being. For some of these persons, attracted by the pleasure which
\nthey find therein, kill themselves with penances, and others weaken
\nthemselves with fasts, by performing more than their frailty can bear,
\nwithout the order or advice of any, but rather endeavouring to avoid
\nthose whom they should obey in these matters; some, indeed, dare to do
\nthese things even though the contrary has been commanded them.<\/p>\n
2. These persons are most imperfect and unreasonable; for they set
\nbodily penance before subjection and obedience, which is penance
\naccording to reason and discretion, and therefore a sacrifice more
\nacceptable and pleasing to God than any other. But such one-sided
\npenance is no more than the penance of beasts, to which they are
\nattracted, exactly like beasts, by the desire and pleasure which they
\nfind therein. Inasmuch as all extremes are vicious, and as in behaving
\nthus such persons [41] are working their own will, they grow in vice
\nrather than in virtue; for, to say the least, they are acquiring
\nspiritual gluttony and pride in this way, through not walking in
\nobedience. And many of these the devil assails, stirring up this
\ngluttony in them through the pleasures and desires which he increases
\nwithin them, to such an extent that, since they can no longer help
\nthemselves, they either change or vary or add to that which is
\ncommanded them, as any obedience in this respect is so bitter to them.
\nTo such an evil pass have some persons come that, simply because it is
\nthrough obedience that they engage in these exercises, they lose the
\ndesire and devotion to perform them, their only desire and pleasure
\nbeing to do what they themselves are inclined to do, so that it would
\nprobably be more profitable for them not to engage in these exercises
\nat all.<\/p>\n
3. You will find that many of these persons are very insistent with
\ntheir spiritual masters to be granted that which they desire,
\nextracting it from them almost by force; if they be refused it they
\nbecome as peevish as children and go about in great displeasure,
\nthinking that they are not serving God when they are not allowed to do
\nthat which they would. For they go about clinging to their own will and
\npleasure, which they treat as though it came from God; [42] and
\nimmediately their directors [43] take it from them, and try to subject
\nthem to the will of God, they become peevish, grow faint-hearted and
\nfall away. These persons think that their own satisfaction and pleasure
\nare the satisfaction and service of God.<\/p>\n
4. There are others, again, who, because of this gluttony, know so
\nlittle of their own unworthiness and misery and have thrust so far from
\nthem the loving fear and reverence which they owe to the greatness of
\nGod, that they hesitate not to insist continually that their confessors
\nshall allow them to communicate often. And, what is worse, they
\nfrequently dare to communicate without the leave and consent [44] of
\nthe minister and steward of Christ, merely acting on their own opinion,
\nand contriving to conceal the truth from him. And for this reason,
\nbecause they desire to communicate continually, they make their
\nconfessions carelessly, [45] being more eager to eat than to eat
\ncleanly and perfectly, although it would be healthier and holier for
\nthem had they the contrary inclination and begged their confessors not
\nto command them to approach the altar so frequently: between these two
\nextremes, however, the better way is that of humble resignation. But
\nthe boldness referred to is [46] a thing that does great harm, and men
\nmay fear to be punished for such temerity.<\/p>\n
5. These persons, in communicating, strive with every nerve to obtain
\nsome kind of sensible sweetness and pleasure, instead of humbly doing
\nreverence and giving praise within themselves to God. And in such wise
\ndo they devote themselves to this that, when they have received no
\npleasure or sweetness in the senses, they think that they have
\naccomplished nothing at all. This is to judge God very unworthily; they
\nhave not realized that the least of the benefits which come from this
\nMost Holy Sacrament is that which concerns the senses; and that the
\ninvisible part of the grace that it bestows is much greater; for, in
\norder that they may look at it with the eyes of faith, God oftentimes
\nwithholds from them these other consolations and sweetnesses of sense.
\nAnd thus they desire to feel and taste God as though He were
\ncomprehensible by them and accessible to them, not only in this, but
\nlikewise in other spiritual practices. All this is very great
\nimperfection and completely opposed to the nature of God, since it is
\nImpurity in faith.<\/p>\n
6. These persons have the same defect as regards the practice of
\nprayer, for they think that all the business of prayer consists in
\nexperiencing sensible pleasure and devotion and they strive to obtain
\nthis by great effort, [47] wearying and fatiguing their faculties and
\ntheir heads; and when they have not found this pleasure they become
\ngreatly discouraged, thinking that they have accomplished nothing.
\nThrough these efforts they lose true devotion and spirituality, which
\nconsist in perseverance, together with patience and humility and
\nmistrust of themselves, that they may please God alone. For this
\nreason, when they have once failed to find pleasure in this or some
\nother exercise, they have great disinclination and repugnance to return
\nto it, and at times they abandon it. They are, in fact, as we have
\nsaid, like children, who are not influenced by reason, and who act, not
\nfrom rational motives, but from inclination. [48] Such persons expend
\nall their effort in seeking spiritual pleasure and consolation; they
\nnever tire therefore, of reading books; and they begin, now one
\nmeditation, now another, in their pursuit of this pleasure which they
\ndesire to experience in the things of God. But God, very justly, wisely
\nand lovingly, denies it to them, for otherwise this spiritual gluttony
\nand inordinate appetite would breed innumerable evils. It is,
\ntherefore, very fitting that they should enter into the dark night,
\nwhereof we shall speak, [49] that they may be purged from this
\nchildishness.<\/p>\n
7. These persons who are thus inclined to such pleasures have another
\nvery great imperfection, which is that they are very weak and remiss in
\njourneying upon the hard [50] road of the Cross; for the soul that is
\ngiven to sweetness naturally has its face set against all self-denial,
\nwhich is devoid of sweetness. [51]<\/p>\n
8. These persons have many other imperfections which arise hence, of
\nwhich in time the Lord heals them by means of temptations, aridities
\nand other trials, all of which are part of the dark night. All these I
\nwill not treat further here, lest I become too lengthy; I will only say
\nthat spiritual temperance and sobriety lead to another and a very
\ndifferent temper, which is that of mortification, fear and submission
\nin all things. It thus becomes clear that the perfection and worth of
\nthings consist not in the multitude and the pleasantness of one’s
\nactions, but in being able to deny oneself in them; this such persons
\nmust endeavour to compass, in so far as they may, until God is pleased
\nto purify them indeed, by bringing them [52] into the dark night, to
\narrive at which I am hastening on with my account of these
\nimperfections.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[40] [Lit., spiritual road.’]<\/p>\n
[41] [Lit., these persons.’]<\/p>\n
[42] [Lit., and treat this as their God.’]<\/p>\n
[43] [The Spanish is impersonal: immediately this is taken from them,’
\netc.]<\/p>\n
[44] [Lit., and opinion.’]<\/p>\n
[45] [Lit., anyhow.’]<\/p>\n
[46] [Lit, the other boldnesses are.’]<\/p>\n
[47] [Lit., they strive to obtain this, as they say, by the strength of
\ntheir arms.’ The phrase is, of course, understood in the Spanish to be
\nmetaphorical, as the words as they say’ clearly indicate.]<\/p>\n
[48] [Lit., who are not influenced, neither act by reason, but from
\npleasure.’]<\/p>\n
[49] [Lit., which we shall give.’]<\/p>\n
[50] [aspero: harsh, rough, rugged.]<\/p>\n
[51] [Lit., against all the sweetlessness of self- denial.’]<\/p>\n
[52] [Lit., causing them to enter.’]
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER VII<\/p>\n
Of imperfections with respect to spiritual envy and sloth.<\/p>\n
WITH respect likewise to the other two vices, which are spiritual envy
\nand sloth, these beginners fail not to have many imperfections. For,
\nwith respect to envy, many of them are wont to experience movements of
\ndispleasure at the spiritual good of others, which cause them a certain
\nsensible grief at being outstripped upon this road, so that they would
\nprefer not to hear others praised; for they become displeased at
\nothers’ virtues and sometimes they cannot refrain from contradicting
\nwhat is said in praise of them, depreciating it as far as they can; and
\ntheir annoyance thereat grows [53] because the same is not said of
\nthem, for they would fain be preferred in everything. All this is clean
\ncontrary to charity, which, as Saint Paul says, rejoices in goodness.
\n[54] And, if charity has any envy, it is a holy envy, comprising grief
\nat not having the virtues of others, yet also joy because others have
\nthem, and delight when others outstrip us in the service of God,
\nwherein we ourselves are so remiss.<\/p>\n
2. With respect also to spiritual sloth, beginners are apt to be irked
\nby the things that are most spiritual, from which they flee because
\nthese things are incompatible with sensible pleasure. For, as they are
\nso much accustomed to sweetness in spiritual things, they are wearied
\nby things in which they find no sweetness. If once they failed to find
\nin prayer the satisfaction which their taste required (and after all it
\nis well that God should take it from them to prove them), they would
\nprefer not to return to it: sometimes they leave it; at other times
\nthey continue it unwillingly. And thus because of this sloth they
\nabandon the way of perfection (which is the way of the negation of
\ntheir will and pleasure for God’s sake) for the pleasure and sweetness
\nof their own will, which they aim at satisfying in this way rather than
\nthe will of God.<\/p>\n
3. And many of these would have God will that which they themselves
\nwill, and are fretful at having to will that which He wills, and find
\nit repugnant to accommodate their will to that of God. Hence it happens
\nto them that oftentimes they think that that wherein they find not
\ntheir own will and pleasure is not the will of God; and that, on the
\nother hand, when they themselves find satisfaction, God is satisfied.
\nThus they measure God by themselves and not themselves by God, acting
\nquite contrarily to that which He Himself taught in the Gospel, saying:
\nThat he who should lose his will for His sake, the same should gain it;
\nand he who should desire to gain it, the same should lose it. [55]<\/p>\n
4. These persons likewise find it irksome when they are commanded to do
\nthat wherein they take no pleasure. Because they aim at spiritual
\nsweetness and consolation, they are too weak to have the fortitude and
\nbear the trials of perfection. [56] They resemble those who are softly
\nnurtured and who run fretfully away from everything that is hard, and
\ntake offense at the Cross, wherein consist the delights of the spirit.
\nThe more spiritual a thing is, the more irksome they find it, for, as
\nthey seek to go about spiritual matters with complete freedom and
\naccording to the inclination of their will, it causes them great sorrow
\nand repugnance to enter upon the narrow way, which, says Christ, is the
\nway of life. [57]<\/p>\n
5. Let it suffice here to have described these imperfections, among the
\nmany to be found in the lives of those that are in this first state of
\nbeginners, so that it may be seen how greatly they need God to set them
\nin the state of proficients. This He does by bringing them into the
\ndark night whereof we now speak; wherein He weans them from the breasts
\nof these sweetnesses and pleasures, gives them pure aridities and
\ninward darkness, takes from them all these irrelevances and
\npuerilities, and by very different means causes them to win the
\nvirtues. For, however assiduously the beginner practises the
\nmortification in himself of all these actions and passions of his, he
\ncan never completely succeed–very far from it–until God shall work it
\nin him passively by means of the purgation of the said night. Of this I
\nwould fain speak in some way that may be profitable; may God, then, be
\npleased to give me His Divine light, because this is very needful in a
\nnight that is so dark and a matter that is so difficult to describe and
\nto expound.<\/p>\n
The line, then, is:<\/p>\n
In a dark night.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[53] [Lit., and, as they say, their eye (el ojo) grows’–a colloquial
\nphrase expressing annoyance.]<\/p>\n
[54] 1 Corinthians xiii, 6. The Saint here cites the sense, not the
\nletter, of the epistle.<\/p>\n
[55] St. Matthew xvi, 25.<\/p>\n
[56] [Lit., they are very weak for the fortitude and trial of
\nperfection.’]<\/p>\n
[57] St. Matthew vii, 14.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER VIII<\/p>\n
Wherein is expounded the first line of the first stanza, and a
\nbeginning is made of the explanation of this dark night.<\/p>\n
THIS night, which, as we say, is contemplation, produces in spiritual
\npersons two kinds of darkness or purgation, corresponding to the two
\nparts of man’s nature–namely, the sensual and the spiritual. And thus
\nthe one night or purgation will be sensual, wherein the soul is purged
\naccording to sense, which is subdued to the spirit; and the other is a
\nnight or purgation which is spiritual, wherein the soul is purged and
\nstripped according to the spirit, and subdued and made ready for the
\nunion of love with God. The night of sense is common and comes to many:
\nthese are the beginners; and of this night we shall speak first. The
\nnight of the spirit is the portion of very few, and these are they that
\nare already practised and proficient, of whom we shall treat hereafter.<\/p>\n
2. The first purgation or night is bitter and terrible to sense, as we
\nshall now show. [58] The second bears no comparison with it, for it is
\nhorrible and awful to the spirit, as we shall show [59] presently.
\nSince the night of sense is first in order and comes first, we shall
\nfirst of all say something about it briefly, since more is written of
\nit, as of a thing that is more common; and we shall pass on to treat
\nmore fully of the spiritual night, since very little has been said of
\nthis, either in speech [60] or in writing, and very little is known of
\nit, even by experience.<\/p>\n
3. Since, then, the conduct of these beginners upon the way of God is
\nignoble, [61] and has much to do with their love of self and their own
\ninclinations, as has been explained above, God desires to lead them
\nfarther. He seeks to bring them out of that ignoble kind of love to a
\nhigher degree of love for Him, to free them from the ignoble exercises
\nof sense and meditation (wherewith, as we have said, they go seeking
\nGod so unworthily and in so many ways that are unbefitting), and to
\nlead them to a kind of spiritual exercise wherein they can commune with
\nHim more abundantly and are freed more completely from imperfections.
\nFor they have now had practice for some time in the way of virtue and
\nhave persevered in meditation and prayer, whereby, through the
\nsweetness and pleasure that they have found therein, they have lost
\ntheir love of the things of the world and have gained some degree of
\nspiritual strength in God; this has enabled them to some extent to
\nrefrain from creature desires, so that for God’s sake they are now able
\nto suffer a light burden and a little aridity without turning back to a
\ntime [62] which they found more pleasant. When they are going about
\nthese spiritual exercises with the greatest delight and pleasure, and
\nwhen they believe that the sun of Divine favour is shining most
\nbrightly upon them, God turns all this light of theirs into darkness,
\nand shuts against them the door and the source of the sweet spiritual
\nwater which they were tasting in God whensoever and for as long as they
\ndesired. (For, as they were weak and tender, there was no door closed
\nto them, as Saint John says in the Apocalypse, iii, 8). And thus He
\nleaves them so completely in the dark that they know not whither to go
\nwith their sensible imagination and meditation; for they cannot advance
\na step in meditation, as they were wont to do afore time, their inward
\nsenses being submerged in this night, and left with such dryness that
\nnot only do they experience no pleasure and consolation in the
\nspiritual things and good exercises wherein they were wont to find
\ntheir delights and pleasures, but instead, on the contrary, they find
\ninsipidity and bitterness in the said things. For, as I have said, God
\nnow sees that they have grown a little, and are becoming strong enough
\nto lay aside their swaddling clothes and be taken from the gentle
\nbreast; so He sets them down from His arms and teaches them to walk on
\ntheir own feet; which they feel to be very strange, for everything
\nseems to be going wrong with them.<\/p>\n
4. To recollected persons this commonly happens sooner after their
\nbeginnings than to others, inasmuch as they are freer from occasions of
\nbacksliding, and their desires turn more quickly from the things of the
\nworld, which is necessary if they are to begin to enter this blessed
\nnight of sense. Ordinarily no great time passes after their beginnings
\nbefore they begin to enter this night of sense; and the great majority
\nof them do in fact enter it, for they will generally be seen to fall
\ninto these aridities.<\/p>\n
5. With regard to this way of purgation of the senses, since it is so
\ncommon, we might here adduce a great number of quotations from Divine
\nScripture, where many passages relating to it are continually found,
\nparticularly in the Psalms and the Prophets. However, I do not wish to
\nspend time upon these, for he who knows not how to look for them there
\nwill find the common experience of this purgation to be sufficient.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[58] [Lit., ‘say.’]<\/p>\n
[59] [Lit., ‘say.’]<\/p>\n
[60] [platica: the word is frequently used in Spanish to denote an
\ninformal sermon or address.]<\/p>\n
[61] [Lit., low’; the same word recurs below and is similarly
\ntranslated.]<\/p>\n
[62] [Lit., to the better time.’]
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER IX<\/p>\n
Of the signs by which it will be known that the spiritual person is
\nwalking along the way of this night and purgation of sense.<\/p>\n
BUT since these aridities might frequently proceed, not from the night
\nand purgation of the sensual desires aforementioned, but from sins and
\nimperfections, or from weakness and lukewarmness, or from some bad
\nhumour or indisposition of the body, I shall here set down certain
\nsigns by which it may be known if such aridity proceeds from the
\naforementioned purgation, or if it arises from any of the
\naforementioned sins. For the making of this distinction I find that
\nthere are three principal signs.<\/p>\n
2. The first is whether, when a soul finds no pleasure or consolation
\nin the things of God, it also fails to find it in any thing created;
\nfor, as God sets the soul in this dark night to the end that He may
\nquench and purge its sensual desire, He allows it not to find
\nattraction or sweetness in anything whatsoever. In such a case it may
\nbe considered very probable [63] that this aridity and insipidity
\nproceed not from recently committed sins or imperfections. For, if this
\nwere so, the soul would feel in its nature some inclination or desire
\nto taste other things than those of God; since, whenever the desire is
\nallowed indulgence in any imperfection, it immediately feels inclined
\nthereto, whether little or much, in proportion to the pleasure and the
\nlove that it has put into it. Since, however, this lack of enjoyment in
\nthings above or below might proceed from some indisposition or
\nmelancholy humour, which oftentimes makes it impossible for the soul to
\ntake pleasure in anything, it becomes necessary to apply the second
\nsign and condition.<\/p>\n
3. The second sign whereby a man may believe himself to be experiencing
\nthe said purgation is that the memory is ordinarily centred upon God,
\nwith painful care and solicitude, thinking that it is not serving God,
\nbut is backsliding, because it finds itself without sweetness in the
\nthings of God. And in such a case it is evident that this lack of
\nsweetness and this aridity come not from weakness and lukewarmness; for
\nit is the nature of lukewarmness not to care greatly or to have any
\ninward solicitude for the things of God. There is thus a great
\ndifference between aridity and lukewarmness, for lukewarmness consists
\nin great weakness and remissness in the will and in the spirit, without
\nsolicitude as to serving God; whereas purgative aridity is ordinarily
\naccompanied by solicitude, with care and grief as I say, because the
\nsoul is not serving God. And, although this may sometimes be increased
\nby melancholy or some other humour (as it frequently is), it fails not
\nfor that reason to produce a purgative effect upon the desire, since
\nthe desire is deprived of all pleasure and has its care centred upon
\nGod alone. For, when mere humour is the cause, it spends itself in
\ndispleasure and ruin of the physical nature, and there are none of
\nthose desires to sense God which belong to purgative aridity. When the
\ncause is aridity, it is true that the sensual part of the soul has
\nfallen low, and is weak and feeble in its actions, by reason of the
\nlittle pleasure which it finds in them; but the spirit, on the other
\nhand, is ready and strong.<\/p>\n
4. For the cause of this aridity is that God transfers to the spirit
\nthe good things and the strength of the senses, which, since the soul’s
\nnatural strength and senses are incapable of using them, remain barren,
\ndry and empty. For the sensual part of a man has no capacity for that
\nwhich is pure spirit, and thus, when it is the spirit that receives the
\npleasure, the flesh is left without savour and is too weak to perform
\nany action. But the spirit, which all the time is being fed, goes
\nforward in strength, and with more alertness and solicitude than
\nbefore, in its anxiety not to fail God; and if it is not immediately
\nconscious of spiritual sweetness and delight, but only of aridity and
\nlack of sweetness, the reason for this is the strangeness of the
\nexchange; for its palate has been accustomed to those other sensual
\npleasures upon which its eyes are still fixed, and, since the spiritual
\npalate is not made ready or purged for such subtle pleasure, until it
\nfinds itself becoming prepared for it by means of this arid and dark
\nnight, it cannot experience spiritual pleasure and good, but only
\naridity and lack of sweetness, since it misses the pleasure which
\naforetime it enjoyed so readily.<\/p>\n
5. These souls whom God is beginning to lead through these solitary
\nplaces of the wilderness are like to the children of Israel, to whom in
\nthe wilderness God began to give food from Heaven, containing within
\nitself all sweetness, and, as is there said, it turned to the savour
\nwhich each one of them desired. But withal the children of Israel felt
\nthe lack of the pleasures and delights of the flesh and the onions
\nwhich they had eaten aforetime in Egypt, the more so because their
\npalate was accustomed to these and took delight in them, rather than in
\nthe delicate sweetness of the angelic manna; and they wept and sighed
\nfor the fleshpots even in the midst of the food of Heaven. [64] To such
\ndepths does the vileness of our desires descend that it makes us to
\nlong for our own wretched food [65] and to be nauseated by the
\nindescribable [66] blessings of Heaven.<\/p>\n
6. But, as I say, when these aridities proceed from the way of the
\npurgation of sensual desire, although at first the spirit feels no
\nsweetness, for the reasons that we have just given, it feels that it is
\nderiving strength and energy to act from the substance which this
\ninward food gives it, the which food is the beginning of a
\ncontemplation that is dark and arid to the senses; which contemplation
\nis secret and hidden from the very person that experiences it; and
\nordinarily, together with the aridity and emptiness which it causes in
\nthe senses, it gives the soul an inclination and desire to be alone and
\nin quietness, without being able to think of any particular thing or
\nhaving the desire to do so. If those souls to whom this comes to pass
\nknew how to be quiet at this time, and troubled not about performing
\nany kind of action, whether inward or outward, neither had any anxiety
\nabout doing anything, then they would delicately experience this inward
\nrefreshment in that ease and freedom from care. So delicate is this
\nrefreshment that ordinarily, if a man have desire or care to experience
\nit, he experiences it not; for, as I say, it does its work when the
\nsoul is most at ease and freest from care; it is like the air which, if
\none would close one’s hand upon it, escapes.<\/p>\n
7. In this sense we may understand that which the Spouse said to the
\nBride in the Songs, namely: Withdraw thine eyes from me, for they make
\nme to soar aloft.’ [67] For in such a way does God bring the soul into
\nthis state, and by so different a path does He lead it that, if it
\ndesires to work with its faculties, it hinders the work which God is
\ndoing in it rather than aids it; whereas aforetime it was quite the
\ncontrary. The reason is that, in this state of contemplation, which the
\nsoul enters when it forsakes meditation for the state of the
\nproficient, it is God Who is now working in the soul; He binds its
\ninterior faculties, and allows it not to cling to the understanding,
\nnor to have delight in the will, nor to reason with the memory. For
\nanything that the soul can do of its own accord at this time serves
\nonly, as we have said, to hinder inward peace and the work which God is
\naccomplishing in the spirit by means of that aridity of sense. And this
\npeace, being spiritual and delicate, performs a work which is quiet and
\ndelicate, solitary, productive of peace and satisfaction [68] and far
\nremoved from all those earlier pleasures, which were very palpable and
\nsensual. This is the peace which, says David, God speaks in the soul to
\nthe end that He may make it spiritual. [69] And this leads us to the
\nthird point.<\/p>\n
8. The third sign whereby this purgation of sense may be recognized is
\nthat the soul can no longer meditate or reflect in the imaginative
\nsphere of sense as it was wont, however much it may of itself endeavour
\nto do so. For God now begins to communicate Himself to it, no longer
\nthrough sense, as He did aforetime, by means of reflections which
\njoined and sundered its knowledge, but by pure spirit, into which
\nconsecutive reflections enter not; but He communicates Himself to it by
\nan act of simple contemplation, to which neither the exterior nor the
\ninterior senses of the lower part of the soul can attain. From this
\ntime forward, therefore, imagination and fancy can find no support in
\nany meditation, and can gain no foothold by means thereof.<\/p>\n
9. With regard to this third sign, it is to be understood that this
\nembarrassment and dissatisfaction of the faculties proceed not from
\nindisposition, for, when this is the case, and the indisposition, which
\nnever lasts for long, [70] comes to an end, the soul is able once
\nagain, by taking some trouble about the matter, to do what it did
\nbefore, and the faculties find their wonted support. But in the
\npurgation of the desire this is not so: when once the soul begins to
\nenter therein, its inability to reflect with the faculties grows ever
\ngreater. For, although it is true that at first, and with some persons,
\nthe process is not as continuous as this, so that occasionally they
\nfail to abandon their pleasures and reflections of sense (for perchance
\nby reason of their weakness it was not fitting to wean them from these
\nimmediately), yet this inability grows within them more and more and
\nbrings the workings of sense to an end, if indeed they are to make
\nprogress, for those who walk not in the way of contemplation act very
\ndifferently. For this night of aridities is not usually continuous in
\ntheir senses. At times they have these aridities; at others they have
\nthem not. At times they cannot meditate; at others they can. For God
\nsets them in this night only to prove them and to humble them, and to
\nreform their desires, so that they go not nurturing in themselves a
\nsinful gluttony in spiritual things. He sets them not there in order to
\nlead them in the way of the spirit, which is this contemplation; for
\nnot all those who walk of set purpose in the way of the spirit are
\nbrought by God to contemplation, nor even the half of them–why, He
\nbest knows. And this is why He never completely weans the senses of
\nsuch persons from the breasts of meditations and reflections, but only
\nfor short periods and at certain seasons, as we have said.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[63] [Lit., And in this it is known very probably.’]<\/p>\n
[64] Numbers xi, 5-6.<\/p>\n
[65] [Lit., makes us to desire our miseries.’]<\/p>\n
[66] [Lit., incommunicable.’]<\/p>\n
[67] Canticles vi, 4 [A.V., vi, 5].<\/p>\n
[68] [Lit., ‘satisfactory and pacific.’]<\/p>\n
[69] Psalm lxxxiv, 9 [A.V., lxxxv, 8].<\/p>\n
[70] [The stress here is evidently on the transience of the distempers
\nwhether they be moral or physical.]
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER X<\/p>\n
Of the way in which these souls are to conduct themselves in this
\ndark night.<\/p>\n
DURING the time, then, of the aridities of this night of sense (wherein
\nGod effects the change of which we have spoken above, drawing forth the
\nsoul from the life of sense into that of the spirit–that is, from
\nmeditation to contemplation–wherein it no longer has any power to work
\nor to reason with its faculties concerning the things of God, as has
\nbeen said), spiritual persons suffer great trials, by reason not so
\nmuch of the aridities which they suffer, as of the fear which they have
\nof being lost on the road, thinking that all spiritual blessing is over
\nfor them and that God has abandoned them since they find no help or
\npleasure in good things. Then they grow weary, and endeavour (as they
\nhave been accustomed to do) to concentrate their faculties with some
\ndegree of pleasure upon some object of meditation, thinking that, when
\nthey are not doing this and yet are conscious of making an effort, they
\nare doing nothing. This effort they make not without great inward
\nrepugnance and unwillingness on the part of their soul, which was
\ntaking pleasure in being in that quietness and ease, instead of working
\nwith its faculties. So they have abandoned the one pursuit, [71] yet
\ndraw no profit from the other; for, by seeking what is prompted by
\ntheir own spirit, [72] they lose the spirit of tranquillity and peace
\nwhich they had before. And thus they are like to one who abandons what
\nhe has done in order to do it over again, or to one who leaves a city
\nonly to re-enter it, or to one who is hunting and lets his prey go in
\norder to hunt it once more. This is useless here, for the soul will
\ngain nothing further by conducting itself in this way, as has been
\nsaid.<\/p>\n
2. These souls turn back at such a time if there is none who
\nunderstands them; they abandon the road or lose courage; or, at the
\nleast, they are hindered from going farther by the great trouble which
\nthey take in advancing along the road of meditation and reasoning. Thus
\nthey fatigue and overwork their nature, imagining that they are failing
\nthrough negligence or sin. But this trouble that they are taking is
\nquite useless, for God is now leading them by another road, which is
\nthat of contemplation, and is very different from the first; for the
\none is of meditation and reasoning, and the other belongs neither to
\nimagination nor yet to reasoning.<\/p>\n
3. It is well for those who find themselves in this condition to take
\ncomfort, to persevere in patience and to be in no wise afflicted. Let
\nthem trust in God, Who abandons not those that seek Him with a simple
\nand right heart, and will not fail to give them what is needful for the
\nroad, until He bring them into the clear and pure light of love. This
\nlast He will give them by means of that other dark night, that of the
\nspirit, if they merit His bringing them thereto.<\/p>\n
4. The way in which they are to conduct themselves in this night of
\nsense is to devote themselves not at all to reasoning and meditation,
\nsince this is not the time for it, but to allow the soul to remain in
\npeace and quietness, although it may seem clear to them that they are
\ndoing nothing and are wasting their time, and although it may appear to
\nthem that it is because of their weakness that they have no desire in
\nthat state to think of anything. The truth is that they will be doing
\nquite sufficient if they have patience and persevere in prayer without
\nmaking any effort. [73] What they must do is merely to leave the soul
\nfree and disencumbered and at rest from all knowledge and thought,
\ntroubling not themselves, in that state, about what they shall think or
\nmeditate upon, but contenting themselves with merely a peaceful and
\nloving attentiveness toward God, and in being without anxiety, without
\nthe ability and without desired to have experience of Him or to
\nperceive Him. For all these yearnings disquiet and distract the soul
\nfrom the peaceful quiet and sweet ease of contemplation which is here
\ngranted to it.<\/p>\n
5. And although further scruples may come to them–that they are
\nwasting their time, and that it would be well for them to do something
\nelse, because they can neither do nor think anything in prayer–let
\nthem suffer these scruples and remain in peace, as there is no question
\nsave of their being at ease and having freedom of spirit. For if such a
\nsoul should desire to make any effort of its own with its interior
\nfaculties, this means that it will hinder and lose the blessings which,
\nby means of that peace and ease of the soul, God is instilling into it
\nand impressing upon it. It is just as if some painter were painting or
\ndyeing a face; if the sitter were to move because he desired to do
\nsomething, he would prevent the painter from accomplishing anything and
\nwould disturb him in what he was doing. And thus, when the soul desires
\nto remain in inward ease and peace, any operation and affection or
\nattentions wherein it may then seek to indulge [74] will distract it
\nand disquiet it and make it conscious of aridity and emptiness of
\nsense. For the more a soul endeavours to find support in affection and
\nknowledge, the more will it feel the lack of these, which cannot now be
\nsupplied to it upon that road.<\/p>\n
6. Wherefore it behoves such a soul to pay no heed if the operations of
\nits faculties become lost to it; it is rather to desire that this
\nshould happen quickly. For, by not hindering the operation of infused
\ncontemplation that God is bestowing upon it, it can receive this with
\nmore peaceful abundance, and cause its spirit to be enkindled and to
\nburn with the love which this dark and secret contemplation brings with
\nit and sets firmly in the soul. For contemplation is naught else than a
\nsecret, peaceful and loving infusion from God, which, if it be
\npermitted, enkindles the soul with the spirit of love, according as the
\nsoul declares in the next lines, namely:<\/p>\n
Kindled in love with yearnings.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[71] [Lit., spoiling themselves in the one.’]<\/p>\n
[72] [Lit., because they seek their spirit.’]<\/p>\n
[73] [Lit., without doing anything themselves.’]<\/p>\n
[74] [Lit., which it may then wish to have.’]
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER XI<\/p>\n
Wherein are expounded the three lines of the stanza.<\/p>\n
THIS enkindling of love is not as a rule felt at the first, because it
\nhas not begun to take hold upon the soul, by reason of the impurity of
\nhuman nature, or because the soul has not understood its own state, as
\nwe have said, and has therefore given it no peaceful abiding-place
\nwithin itself. Yet sometimes, nevertheless, there soon begins to make
\nitself felt a certain yearning toward God; and the more this increases,
\nthe more is the soul affectioned and enkindled in love toward God,
\nwithout knowing or understanding how and whence this love and affection
\ncome to it, but from time to time seeing this flame and this enkindling
\ngrow so greatly within it that it desires God with yearning of love;
\neven as David, when he was in this dark night, said of himself in these
\nwords, [75] namely: Because my heart was enkindled (that is to say, in
\nlove of contemplation), my reins also were changed’: that is, my
\ndesires for sensual affections were changed, namely from the way of
\nsense to the way of the spirit, which is the aridity and cessation from
\nall these things whereof we are speaking. And I, he says, was dissolved
\nin nothing and annihilated, and I knew not; for, as we have said,
\nwithout knowing the way whereby it goes, the soul finds itself
\nannihilated with respect to all things above and below which were
\naccustomed to please it; and it finds itself enamoured, without knowing
\nhow. And because at times the enkindling of love in the spirit grows
\ngreater, the yearnings for God become so great in the soul that the
\nvery bones seem to be dried up by this thirst, and the natural powers
\nto be fading away, and their warmth and strength to be perishing
\nthrough the intensity [76] of the thirst of love, for the soul feels
\nthat this thirst of love is a living thirst. This thirst David had and
\nfelt, when he said: My soul thirsted for the living God.’ [77] Which is
\nas much as to say: A living thirst was that of my soul. Of this thirst,
\nsince it is living, we may say that it kills. But it is to be noted
\nthat the vehemence of this thirst is not continuous, but occasional
\nalthough as a rule the soul is accustomed to feel it to a certain
\ndegree.<\/p>\n
2. But it must be noted that, as I began to say just now, this love is
\nnot as a rule felt at first, but only the dryness and emptiness are
\nfelt whereof we are speaking. Then in place of this love which
\nafterwards becomes gradually enkindled, what the soul experiences in
\nthe midst of these aridities and emptinesses of the faculties is an
\nhabitual care and solicitude with respect to God, together with grief
\nand fear that it is not serving Him. But it is a sacrifice which is not
\na little pleasing to God that the soul should go about afflicted and
\nsolicitous for His love. This solicitude and care leads the soul into
\nthat secret contemplation, until, the senses (that is, the sensual
\npart) having in course of time been in some degree purged of the
\nnatural affections and powers by means of the aridities which it causes
\nwithin them, this Divine love begins to be enkindled in the spirit.
\nMeanwhile, however, like one who has begun a cure, the soul knows only
\nsuffering in this dark and arid purgation of the desire; by this means
\nit becomes healed of many imperfections, and exercises itself in many
\nvirtues in order to make itself meet for the said love, as we shall now
\nsay with respect to the line following:<\/p>\n
Oh, happy chance!<\/p>\n
3. When God leads the soul into this night of sense in order to purge
\nthe sense of its lower part and to subdue it, unite it and bring it
\ninto conformity with the spirit, by setting it in darkness and causing
\nit to cease from meditation (as He afterwards does in order to purify
\nthe spirit to unite it with God, as we shall afterwards say), He brings
\nit into the night of the spirit, and (although it appears not so to it)
\nthe soul gains so many benefits that it holds it to be a happy chance
\nto have escaped from the bonds and restrictions of the senses of or its
\nlower self, by means of this night aforesaid; and utters the present
\nline, namely: Oh, happy chance! With respect to this, it behoves us
\nhere to note the benefits which the soul finds in this night, and
\nbecause of which it considers it a happy chance to have passed through
\nit; all of which benefits the soul includes in the next line, namely:<\/p>\n
I went forth without being observed.<\/p>\n
4. This going forth is understood of the subjection to its sensual part
\nwhich the soul suffered when it sought God through operations so weak,
\nso limited and so defective as are those of this lower part; for at
\nevery step it stumbled into numerous imperfections and ignorances, as
\nwe have noted above in writing of the seven capital sins. From all
\nthese it is freed when this night quenches within it all pleasures,
\nwhether from above or from below, and makes all meditation darkness to
\nit, and grants it other innumerable blessings in the acquirement of the
\nvirtues, as we shall now show. For it will be a matter of great
\npleasure and great consolation, to one that journeys on this road, to
\nsee how that which seems to the soul so severe and adverse, and so
\ncontrary to spiritual pleasure, works in it so many blessings. These,
\nas we say, are gained when the soul goes forth, as regards its
\naffection and operation, by means of this night, from all created
\nthings, and when it journeys to eternal things, which is great
\nhappiness and good fortune: [78] first, because of the great blessing
\nwhich is in the quenching of the desire and affection with respect to
\nall things; secondly, because they are very few that endure and
\npersevere in entering by this strait gate and by the narrow way which
\nleads to life, as says Our Saviour. [79] The strait gate is this night
\nof sense, and the soul detaches itself from sense and strips itself
\nthereof that it may enter by this gate, and establishes itself in
\nfaith, which is a stranger to all sense, so that afterwards it may
\njourney by the narrow way, which is the other night–that of the
\nspirit–and this the soul afterwards enters in order in journey to God
\nin pure faith, which is the means whereby the soul is united to God. By
\nthis road, since it is so narrow, dark and terrible (though there is no
\ncomparison between this night of sense and that other, in its darkness
\nand trials, as we shall say later), they are far fewer that journey,
\nbut its benefits are far greater without comparison than those of this
\npresent night. Of these benefits we shall now begin to say something,
\nwith such brevity as is possible, in order that we may pass to the
\nother night.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[75] Psalm lxxii, 21 [A.V., lxxiii, 21-2].<\/p>\n
[76] [Lit., livingness’: cf. the quotation below.]<\/p>\n
[77] Psalm xli, 3 [A.V., xlii, 2].<\/p>\n
[78] [Lit., and chance’: the same word as in the verse-line above.]<\/p>\n
[79] St. Matthew vii, 14.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER XII<\/p>\n
Of the benefits which this night causes in the soul.<\/p>\n
THIS night and purgation of the desire, a happy one for the soul, works
\nin it so many blessings and benefits (although to the soul, as we have
\nsaid, it rather seems that blessings are being taken away from it)
\nthat, even as Abraham made a great feast when he weaned his son Isaac,
\n[80] even so is there joy in Heaven because God is now taking this soul
\nfrom its swaddling clothes, setting it down from His arms, making it to
\nwalk upon its feet, and likewise taking from it the milk of the breast
\nand the soft and sweet food proper to children, and making it to eat
\nbread with crust, and to begin to enjoy the food of robust persons.
\nThis food, in these aridities and this darkness of sense, is now given
\nto the spirit, which is dry and emptied of all the sweetness of sense.
\nAnd this food is the infused contemplation whereof we have spoken.<\/p>\n
2. This is the first and principal benefit caused by this arid and dark
\nnight of contemplation: the knowledge of oneself and of one’s misery.
\nFor, besides the fact that all the favours which God grants to the soul
\nare habitually granted to them enwrapped in this knowledge, these
\naridities and this emptiness of the faculties, compared with the
\nabundance which the soul experienced aforetime and the difficulty which
\nit finds in good works, make it recognize its own lowliness and misery,
\nwhich in the time of its prosperity it was unable to see. Of this there
\nis a good illustration in the Book of Exodus, where God, wishing to
\nhumble the children of Israel and desiring that they should know
\nthemselves, commanded them to take away and strip off the festal
\ngarments and adornments wherewith they were accustomed to adorn
\nthemselves in the Wilderness, saying: Now from henceforth strip
\nyourselves of festal ornaments and put on everyday working dress, that
\nye may know what treatment ye deserve.’ [81] This is as though He had
\nsaid: Inasmuch as the attire that ye wear, being proper to festival and
\nrejoicing, causes you to feel less humble concerning yourselves than ye
\nshould, put off from you this attire, in order that henceforth, seeing
\nyourselves clothed with vileness, ye may know that ye merit no more,
\nand may know who ye are. Wherefore the soul knows the truth that it
\nknew not at first, concerning its own misery; for, at the time when it
\nwas clad as for a festival and found in God much pleasure, consolation
\nand support, it was somewhat more satisfied and contented, since it
\nthought itself to some extent to be serving God. It is true that such
\nsouls may not have this idea explicitly in their minds; but some
\nsuggestion of it at least is implanted in them by the satisfaction
\nwhich they find in their pleasant experiences. But, now that the soul
\nhas put on its other and working attire–that of aridity and
\nabandonment–and now that its first lights have turned into darkness,
\nit possesses these lights more truly in this virtue of self-knowledge,
\nwhich is so excellent and so necessary, considering itself now as
\nnothing and experiencing no satisfaction in itself; for it sees that it
\ndoes nothing of itself neither can do anything. And the smallness of
\nthis self-satisfaction, together with the soul’s affliction at not
\nserving God, is considered and esteemed by God as greater than all the
\nconsolations which the soul formerly experienced and the works which it
\nwrought, however great they were, inasmuch as they were the occasion of
\nmany imperfections and ignorances. And from this attire of aridity
\nproceed, as from their fount and source of self-knowledge, not only the
\nthings which we have described already, but also the benefits which we
\nshall now describe and many more which will have to be omitted.<\/p>\n
3. In the first place, the soul learns to commune with God with more
\nrespect and more courtesy, such as a soul must ever observe in converse
\nwith the Most High. These it knew not in its prosperous times of
\ncomfort and consolation, for that comforting favour which it
\nexperienced made its craving for God somewhat bolder than was fitting,
\nand discourteous and ill-considered. Even so did it happen to Moses,
\nwhen he perceived that God was speaking to him; blinded by that
\npleasure and desire, without further consideration, he would have made
\nbold to go to Him if God had not commanded him to stay and put off his
\nshoes. By this incident we are shown the respect and discretion in
\ndetachment of desire wherewith a man is to commune with God. When Moses
\nhad obeyed in this matter, he became so discreet and so attentive that
\nthe Scripture says that not only did he not make bold to draw near to
\nGod, but that he dared not even look at Him. For, having taken off the
\nshoes of his desires and pleasures, he became very conscious of his
\nwretchedness in the sight of God, as befitted one about to hear the
\nword of God. Even so likewise the preparation which God granted to Job
\nin order that he might speak with Him consisted not in those delights
\nand glories which Job himself reports that he was wont to have in his
\nGod, but in leaving him naked upon a dung-hill, [82] abandoned and even
\npersecuted by his friends, filled with anguish and bitterness, and the
\nearth covered with worms. And then the Most High God, He that lifts up
\nthe poor man from the dunghill, was pleased to come down and speak with
\nhim there face to face, revealing to him the depths and heights [83] of
\nHis wisdom, in a way that He had never done in the time of his
\nprosperity.<\/p>\n
4. And here we must note another excellent benefit which there is in
\nthis night and aridity of the desire of sense, since we have had
\noccasion to speak of it. It is that, in this dark night of the desire
\n(to the end that the words of the Prophet may be fulfilled, namely: Thy
\nlight shall shine in the darkness’ [84] ), God will enlighten the soul,
\ngiving it knowledge, not only of its lowliness and wretchedness, as we
\nhave said, but likewise of the greatness and excellence of God. For, as
\nwell as quenching the desires and pleasures and attachments of sense,
\nHe cleanses and frees the understanding that it may understand the
\ntruth; for pleasure of sense and desire, even though it be for
\nspiritual things, darkens and obstructs the spirit, and furthermore
\nthat straitness and aridity of sense enlightens and quickens the
\nunderstanding, as says Isaias. [85] Vexation makes us to understand how
\nthe soul that is empty and disencumbered, as is necessary for His
\nDivine influence, is instructed supernaturally by God in His Divine
\nwisdom, through this dark and arid night of contemplation, [86] as we
\nhave said; and this instruction God gave not in those first sweetnesses
\nand joys.<\/p>\n
5. This is very well explained by the same prophet Isaias, where he
\nsays: Whom shall God teach His knowledge, and whom shall He make to
\nunderstand the hearing?’ To those, He says, that are weaned from the
\nmilk and drawn away from the breasts. [87] Here it is shown that the
\nfirst milk of spiritual sweetness is no preparation for this Divine
\ninfluence, neither is there preparation in attachment to the breast of
\ndelectable meditations, belonging to the faculties of sense, which gave
\nthe soul pleasure; such preparation consists rather in the lack of the
\none and withdrawal from the other. Inasmuch as, in order to listen to
\nGod, the soul needs to stand upright and to be detached, with regard to
\naffection and sense, even as the Prophet says concerning himself, in
\nthese words: I will stand upon my watch (this is that detachment of
\ndesire) and I will make firm my step (that is, I will not meditate with
\nsense), in order to contemplate (that is, in order to understand that
\nwhich may come to me from God). [88] So we have now arrived at this,
\nthat from this arid night there first of all comes self-knowledge,
\nwhence, as from a foundation, rises this other knowledge of God. For
\nwhich cause Saint Augustine said to God: Let me know myself, Lord, and
\nI shall know Thee.’ [89] For, as the philosophers say, one extreme can
\nbe well known by another.<\/p>\n
6. And in order to prove more completely how efficacious is this night
\nof sense, with its aridity and its desolation, in bringing the soul
\nthat light which, as we say, it receives there from God, we shall quote
\nthat passage of David, wherein he clearly describes the great power
\nwhich is in this night for bringing the soul this lofty knowledge of
\nGod. He says, then, thus: In the desert land, waterless, dry and
\npathless, I appeared before Thee, that I might see Thy virtue and Thy
\nglory.’ [90] It is a wondrous thing that David should say here that the
\nmeans and the preparation for his knowledge of the glory of God were
\nnot the spiritual delights and the many pleasures which he had
\nexperienced, but the aridities and detachments of his sensual nature,
\nwhich is here to be understood by the dry and desert land. No less
\nwondrous is it that he should describe as the road to his perception
\nand vision of the virtue of God, not the Divine meditations and
\nconceptions of which he had often made use, but his being unable to
\nform any conception of God or to walk by meditation produced by
\nimaginary consideration, which is here to be understood by the pathless
\nland. So that the means to a knowledge of God and of oneself is this
\ndark night with its aridities and voids, although it leads not to a
\nknowledge of Him of the same plenitude and abundance that comes from
\nthe other night of the spirit, since this is only, as it were, the
\nbeginning of that other.<\/p>\n
7. Likewise, from the aridities and voids of this night of the desire,
\nthe soul draws spiritual humility, which is the contrary virtue to the
\nfirst capital sin, which, as we said, is spiritual pride. Through this
\nhumility, which is acquired by the said knowledge of self, the soul is
\npurged from all those imperfections whereinto it fell with respect to
\nthat sin of pride, in the time of its prosperity. For it sees itself so
\ndry and miserable that the idea never even occurs to it that it is
\nmaking better progress than others, or outstripping them, as it
\nbelieved itself to be doing before. On the contrary, it recognizes that
\nothers are making better progress than itself.<\/p>\n
8. And hence arises the love of its neighbours, for it esteems them,
\nand judges them not as it was wont to do aforetime, when it saw that
\nitself had great fervour and others not so. It is aware only of its own
\nwretchedness, which it keeps before its eyes to such an extent that it
\nnever forgets it, nor takes occasion to set its eyes on anyone else.
\nThis was described wonderfully by David, when he was in this night, in
\nthese words: I was dumb and was humbled and kept silence from good
\nthings and my sorrow was renewed.’ [91] This he says because it seemed
\nto him that the good that was in his soul had so completely departed
\nthat not only did he neither speak nor find any language concerning it,
\nbut with respect to the good of others he was likewise dumb because of
\nhis grief at the knowledge of his misery.<\/p>\n
9. In this condition, again, souls become submissive and obedient upon
\nthe spiritual road, for, when they see their own misery, not only do
\nthey hear what is taught them, but they even desire that anyone soever
\nmay set them on the way and tell them what they ought to do. The
\naffective presumption which they sometimes had in their prosperity is
\ntaken from them; and finally, there are swept away from them on this
\nroad all the other imperfections which we noted above with respect to
\nthis first sin, which is spiritual pride.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[80] Genesis xxi, 8.<\/p>\n
[81] Exodus xxxiii, 5.<\/p>\n
[82] [Job ii, 7-8].<\/p>\n
[83] [Lit., the deep heights.’]<\/p>\n
[84] Isaias lviii, 10.<\/p>\n
[85] Isaias xxviii, 19. [The author omits the actual text.]<\/p>\n
[86] To translate this passage at all, we must read the Dios como of P.
\nSilverio (p. 403, 1. 20), which is also found in P. Gerardo and
\nelsewhere, as como Dios.<\/p>\n
[87] Isaias xxviii, 9.<\/p>\n
[88] Habacuc ii, 1.<\/p>\n
[89] St. Augustine: Soliloq., Cap. ii.<\/p>\n
[90] Psalm lxii, 3 [A.V., lxiii, 1-2].<\/p>\n
[91] Psalm xxxviii, 3 [A.V., xxxix, 2].
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER XIII<\/p>\n
Of other benefits which this night of sense causes in the soul.<\/p>\n
WITH respect to the soul’s imperfections of spiritual avarice, because
\nof which it coveted this and that spiritual thing and found no
\nsatisfaction in this and that exercise by reason of its covetousness
\nfor the desire and pleasure which it found therein, this arid and dark
\nnight has now greatly reformed it. For, as it finds not the pleasure
\nand sweetness which it was wont to find, but rather finds affliction
\nand lack of sweetness, it has such moderate recourse to them that it
\nmight possibly now lose, through defective use, what aforetime it lost
\nthrough excess; although as a rule God gives to those whom He leads
\ninto this night humility and readiness, albeit with lack of sweetness,
\nso that what is commanded them they may do for God’s sake alone; and
\nthus they no longer seek profit in many things because they find no
\npleasure in them.<\/p>\n
2. With respect to spiritual luxury, it is likewise clearly seen that,
\nthrough this aridity and lack of sensible sweetness which the soul
\nfinds in spiritual things, it is freed from those impurities which we
\nthere noted; for we said that, as a rule, they proceeded from the
\npleasure which overflowed from spirit into sense.<\/p>\n
3. But with regard to the imperfections from which the soul frees
\nitself in this dark night with respect to the fourth sin, which is
\nspiritual gluttony, they may be found above, though they have not all
\nbeen described there, because they are innumerable; and thus I will not
\ndetail them here, for I would fain make an end of this night in order
\nto pass to the next, concerning which we shall have to pronounce grave
\nwords and instructions. Let it suffice for the understanding of the
\ninnumerable benefits which, over and above those mentioned, the soul
\ngains in this night with respect to this sin of spiritual gluttony, to
\nsay that it frees itself from all those imperfections which have there
\nbeen described, and from many other and greater evils, and vile
\nabominations which are not written above, into which fell many of whom
\nwe have had experience, because they had not reformed their desire as
\nconcerning this inordinate love of spiritual sweetness. For in this
\narid and dark night wherein He sets the soul, God has restrained its
\nconcupiscence and curbed its desire so that the soul cannot feed upon
\nany pleasure or sweetness of sense, whether from above or from below;
\nand this He continues to do after such manner that the soul is
\nsubjected, reformed and repressed with respect to concupiscence and
\ndesire. It loses the strength of its passions and concupiscence and it
\nbecomes sterile, because it no longer consults its likings. Just as,
\nwhen none is accustomed to take milk from the breast, the courses of
\nthe milk are dried up, so the desires of the soul are dried up. And
\nbesides these things there follow admirable benefits from this
\nspiritual sobriety, for, when desire and concupiscence are quenched,
\nthe soul lives in spiritual tranquillity and peace; for, where desire
\nand concupiscence reign not, there is no disturbance, but peace and
\nconsolation of God.<\/p>\n
4. From this there arises another and a second benefit, which is that
\nthe soul habitually has remembrance of God, with fear and dread of
\nbacksliding upon the spiritual road, as has been said. This is a great
\nbenefit, and not one of the least that results from this aridity and
\npurgation of the desire, for the soul is purified and cleansed of the
\nimperfections that were clinging to it because of the desires and
\naffections, which of their own accord deaden and darken the soul.<\/p>\n
5. There is another very great benefit for the soul in this night,
\nwhich is that it practices several virtues together, as, for example,
\npatience and longsuffering, which are often called upon in these times
\nof emptiness and aridity, when the soul endures and perseveres in its
\nspiritual exercises without consolation and without pleasure. It
\npractises the charity of God, since it is not now moved by the pleasure
\nof attraction and sweetness which it finds in its work, but only by
\nGod. It likewise practises here the virtue of fortitude, because, in
\nthese difficulties and insipidities which it finds in its work, it
\nbrings strength out of weakness and thus becomes strong. All the
\nvirtues, in short–the theological and also the cardinal and
\nmoral–both in body and in spirit, are practised by the soul in these
\ntimes of aridity.<\/p>\n
6. And that in this night the soul obtains these four benefits which we
\nhave here described (namely, delight of peace, habitual remembrance and
\nthought of God, cleanness and purity of soul and the practice of the
\nvirtues which we have just described), David tells us, having
\nexperienced it himself when he was in this night, in these words: My
\nsoul refused consolations, I had remembrance of God, I found
\nconsolation and was exercised and my spirit failed.’ [92] And he then
\nsays: And I meditated by night with my heart and was exercised, and I
\nswept and purified my spirit’–that is to say, from all the affections.
\n[93]<\/p>\n
7. With respect to the imperfections of the other three spiritual sins
\nwhich we have described above, which are wrath, envy and sloth, the
\nsoul is purged hereof likewise in this aridity of the desire and
\nacquires the virtues opposed to them; for, softened and humbled by
\nthese aridities and hardships and other temptations and trials wherein
\nGod exercises it during this night, it becomes meek with respect to
\nGod, and to itself, and likewise with respect to its neighbour. So that
\nit is no longer disturbed and angry with itself because of its own
\nfaults, nor with its neighbour because of his, neither is it displeased
\nwith God, nor does it utter unseemly complaints because He does not
\nquickly make it holy.<\/p>\n
8. Then, as to envy, the soul has charity toward others in this respect
\nalso; for, if it has any envy, this is no longer a vice as it was
\nbefore, when it was grieved because others were preferred to it and
\ngiven greater advantage. Its grief now comes from seeing how great is
\nits own misery, and its envy (if it has any) is a virtuous envy, since
\nit desires to imitate others, which is great virtue.<\/p>\n
9. Neither are the sloth and the irksomeness which it now experiences
\nconcerning spiritual things vicious as they were before. For in the
\npast these sins proceeded from the spiritual pleasures which the soul
\nsometimes experienced and sought after when it found them not. But this
\nnew weariness proceeds not from this insuffficiency of pleasure,
\nbecause God has taken from the soul pleasure in all things in this
\npurgation of the desire.<\/p>\n
10. Besides these benefits which have been mentioned, the soul attains
\ninnumerable others by means of this arid contemplation. For often, in
\nthe midst of these times of aridity and hardship, God communicates to
\nthe soul, when it is least expecting it, the purest spiritual sweetness
\nand love, together with a spiritual knowledge which is sometimes very
\ndelicate, each manifestation of which is of greater benefit and worth
\nthan those which the soul enjoyed aforetime; although in its beginnings
\nthe soul thinks that this is not so, for the spiritual influence now
\ngranted to it is very delicate and cannot be perceived by sense.<\/p>\n
11. Finally, inasmuch as the soul is now purged from the affections and
\ndesires of sense, it obtains liberty of spirit, whereby in ever greater
\ndegree it gains the twelve fruits of the Holy Spirit. Here, too, it is
\nwondrously delivered from the hands of its three enemies–devil, world
\nand flesh; for, its pleasure and delight of sense being quenched with
\nrespect to all things, neither the devil nor the world nor sensuality
\nhas any arms or any strength wherewith to make war upon the spirit.<\/p>\n
12. These times of aridity, then, cause the soul to journey in all
\npurity in the love of God, since it is no longer influenced in its
\nactions by the pleasure and sweetness of the actions themselves, as
\nperchance it was when it experienced sweetness, but only by a desire to
\nplease God. It becomes neither presumptuous nor self-satisfied, as
\nperchance it was wont to become in the time of its prosperity, but
\nfearful and timid with regard to itself, finding in itself no
\nsatisfaction whatsoever; and herein consists that holy fear which
\npreserves and increases the virtues. This aridity, too, quenches
\nnatural energy and concupiscence, as has also been said. Save for the
\npleasure, indeed, which at certain times God Himself infuses into it,
\nit is a wonder if it finds pleasure and consolation of sense, through
\nits own diligence, in any spiritual exercise or action, as has already
\nbeen said.<\/p>\n
13. There grows within souls that experience this arid night concern
\nfor God and yearnings to serve Him, for in proportion as the breasts of
\nsensuality, wherewith it sustained and nourished the desires that it
\npursued, are drying up, there remains nothing in that aridity and
\ndetachment save the yearning to serve God, which is a thing very
\npleasing to God. For, as David says, an afflicted spirit is a sacrifice
\nto God. [94]<\/p>\n
14. When the soul, then, knows that, in this arid purgation through
\nwhich it has passed, it has derived and attained so many and such
\nprecious benefits as those which have here been described, it tarries
\nnot in crying, as in the stanza of which we are expounding the lines,
\nOh, happy chance!–I went forth without being observed.’ That is, I
\nwent forth’ from the bonds and subjection of the desires of sense and
\nthe affections, without being observed’–that is to say, without the
\nthree enemies aforementioned being able to keep me from it. These
\nenemies, as we have said, bind the soul as with bonds, in its desires
\nand pleasures, and prevent it from going forth from itself to the
\nliberty of the love of God; and without these desires and pleasures
\nthey cannot give battle to the soul, as has been said.<\/p>\n
15. When, therefore, the four passions of the soul–which are joy,
\ngrief, hope and fear–are calmed through continual mortification; when
\nthe natural desires have been lulled to sleep, in the sensual nature of
\nthe soul, by means of habitual times of aridity; and when the harmony
\nof the senses and the interior faculties causes a suspension of labour
\nand a cessation from the work of meditation, as we have said (which is
\nthe dwelling and the household of the lower part of the soul), these
\nenemies cannot obstruct this spiritual liberty, and the house remains
\nat rest and quiet, as says the following line:<\/p>\n
My house being now at rest.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[92] Psalm lxxvi, 4 [A.V., lxxvii, 3-4].<\/p>\n
[93] Psalm lxxvi, 7 [A.V., lxxvii, 6].<\/p>\n
[94] Psalm l, 19 [A.V., li, 17.]
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER XIV<\/p>\n
Expounds this last line of the first stanza.<\/p>\n
WHEN this house of sensuality was now at rest–that is, was
\nmortified–its passions being quenched and its desires put to rest and
\nlulled to sleep by means of this blessed night of the purgation of
\nsense, the soul went forth, to set out upon the road and way of the
\nspirit, which is that of progressives and proficients, and which, by
\nanother name, is called the way of illumination or of infused
\ncontemplation, wherein God Himself feeds and refreshes the soul,
\nwithout meditation, or the soul’s active help. Such, as we have said,
\nis the night and purgation of sense in the soul. In those who have
\nafterwards to enter the other and more formidable night of the spirit,
\nin order to pass to the Divine union of love of God (for not all pass
\nhabitually thereto, but only the smallest number), it is wont to be
\naccompanied by formidable trials and temptations of sense, which last
\nfor a long time, albeit longer in some than in others. For to some the
\nangel of Satan presents himself–namely, the spirit of
\nfornication–that he may buffet their senses with abominable and
\nviolent temptations, and trouble their spirits with vile considerations
\nand representations which are most visible to the imagination, which
\nthings at times are a greater affliction to them than death.<\/p>\n
2. At other times in this night there is added to these things the
\nspirit of blasphemy, which roams abroad, setting in the path of all the
\nconceptions and thoughts of the soul intolerable blasphemies. These it
\nsometimes suggests to the imagination with such violence that the soul
\nalmost utters them, which is a grave torment to it.<\/p>\n
3. At other times another abominable spirit, which Isaias calls
\nSpiritus vertiginis, [95] is allowed to molest them, not in order that
\nthey may fall, but that it may try them. This spirit darkens their
\nsenses in such a way that it fills them with numerous scruples and
\nperplexities, so confusing that, as they judge, they can never, by any
\nmeans, be satisfied concerning them, neither can they find any help for
\ntheir judgment in counsel or thought. This is one of the severest goads
\nand horrors of this night, very closely akin to that which passes in
\nthe night of the spirit.<\/p>\n
4. As a rule these storms and trials are sent by God in this night and
\npurgation of sense to those whom afterwards He purposes to lead into
\nthe other night (though not all reach it), to the end that, when they
\nhave been chastened and buffeted, they may in this way continually
\nexercise and prepare themselves, and continually accustom their senses
\nand faculties to the union of wisdom which is to be bestowed upon them
\nin that other night. For, if the soul be not tempted, exercised and
\nproved with trials and temptations, it cannot quicken its sense of
\nWisdom. For this reason it is said in Ecclesiasticus: He that has not
\nbeen tempted, what does he know? And he that has not been proved, what
\nare the things that he recognizes?’ [96] To this truth Jeremias bears
\ngood witness, saying: Thou didst chastise me, Lord, and I was
\ninstructed.’ [97] And the most proper form of this chastisement, for
\none who will enter into Wisdom, is that of the interior trials which we
\nare here describing, inasmuch as it is these which most effectively
\npurge sense of all favours and consolations to which it was affected,
\nwith natural weakness, and by which the soul is truly humiliated in
\npreparation for the exaltation which it is to experience.<\/p>\n
5. For how long a time the soul will be held in this fasting and
\npenance of sense, cannot be said with any certainty; for all do not
\nexperience it after one manner, neither do all encounter the same
\ntemptations. For this is meted out by the will of God, in conformity
\nwith the greater or the smaller degree of imperfection which each soul
\nhas to purge away. In conformity, likewise, with the degree of love of
\nunion to which God is pleased to raise it, He will humble it with
\ngreater or less intensity or in greater or less time. Those who have
\nthe disposition and greater strength to suffer, He purges with greater
\nintensity and more quickly. But those who are very weak are kept for a
\nlong time in this night, and these He purges very gently and with
\nslight temptations. Habitually, too, He gives them refreshments of
\nsense so that they may not fall away, and only after a long time do
\nthey attain to purity of perfection in this life, some of them never
\nattaining to it at all. Such are neither properly in the night nor
\nproperly out of it; for, although they make no progress, yet, in order
\nthat they may continue in humility and self-knowledge, God exercises
\nthem for certain periods and at certain times [98] in those temptations
\nand aridities; and at other times and seasons He assists them with
\nconsolations, lest they should grow faint and return to seek the
\nconsolations of the world. Other souls, which are weaker, God Himself
\naccompanies, now appearing to them, now moving farther away, that He
\nmay exercise them in His love; for without such turnings away they
\nwould not learn to reach God.<\/p>\n
6. But the souls which are to pass on to that happy and high estate,
\nthe union of love, are wont as a rule to remain for a long time in
\nthese aridities and temptations, however quickly God may lead them, as
\nhas been seen by experience. It is time, then, to begin to treat of the
\nsecond night.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[95] [The ‘spirit of giddiness’ of D.V., and perverse spirit’ of A.V.,
\nIsaias xix, 14.]<\/p>\n
[96] Ecclesiasticus xxxiv, 9-10.<\/p>\n
[97] Jeremias xxxi, 18.<\/p>\n
[98] [Lit., for certain days.’]
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[20] [More exactly: purificative.’]
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
BOOK THE SECOND<\/p>\n
Of the Dark Night of the Spirit.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER I<\/p>\n
Which begins to treat of the dark nights of the spirit and says at
\nwhat time it begins.<\/p>\n
THE soul which God is about to lead onward is not led by His Majesty
\ninto this night of the spirit as soon as it goes forth from the
\naridities and trials of the first purgation and night of sense; rather
\nit is wont to pass a long time, even years, after leaving the state of
\nbeginners, in exercising itself in that of proficients. In this latter
\nstate it is like to one that has come forth from a rigorous
\nimprisonment; [99] it goes about the things of God with much greater
\nfreedom and satisfaction of the soul, and with more abundant and inward
\ndelight than it did at the beginning before it entered the said night.
\nFor its imagination and faculties are no longer bound, as they were
\nbefore, by meditation and anxiety of spirit, since it now very readily
\nfinds in its spirit the most serene and loving contemplation and
\nspiritual sweetness without the labour of meditation; although, as the
\npurgation of the soul is not complete (for the principal part thereof,
\nwhich is that of the spirit, is wanting, without which, owing to the
\ncommunication that exists between the one part and the other, [100]
\nsince the subject is one only, the purgation of sense, however violent
\nit may have been, is not yet complete and perfect), it is never without
\ncertain occasional necessities, aridities, darknesses and perils which
\nare sometimes much more intense than those of the past, for they are as
\ntokens and heralds of the coming night of the spirit, and are not of as
\nlong duration as will be the night which is to come. For, having passed
\nthrough a period, or periods, or days of this night and tempest, the
\nsoul soon returns to its wonted serenity; and after this manner God
\npurges certain souls which are not to rise to so high a degree of love
\nas are others, bringing them at times, and for short periods, into this
\nnight of contemplation and purgation of the spirit, causing night to
\ncome upon them and then dawn, and this frequently, so that the words of
\nDavid may be fulfilled, that He sends His crystal–that is, His
\ncontemplation–like morsels, [101] although these morsels of dark
\ncontemplation are never as intense as is that terrible night of
\ncontemplation which we are to describe, into which, of set purpose, God
\nbrings the soul that He may lead it to Divine union.<\/p>\n
2. This sweetness, then, and this interior pleasure which we are
\ndescribing, and which these progressives find and experience in their
\nspirits so easily and so abundantly, is communicated to them in much
\ngreater abundance than aforetime, overflowing into their senses more
\nthan was usual previously to this purgation of sense; for, inasmuch as
\nthe sense is now purer, it can more easily feel the pleasures of the
\nspirit after its manner. As, however, this sensual part of the soul is
\nweak and incapable of experiencing the strong things of the spirit, it
\nfollows that these proficients, by reason of this spiritual
\ncommunication which is made to their sensual part endure therein many
\nfrailties and sufferings and weaknesses of the stomach, and in
\nconsequence are fatigued in spirit. For, as the Wise Man says: The
\ncorruptible body presseth down the soul.’ [102] Hence comes it that the
\ncommunications that are granted to these souls cannot be very strong or
\nvery intense or very spiritual, as is required for Divine union with
\nGod, by reason of the weakness and corruption of the sensual nature
\nwhich has a part in them. Hence arise the raptures and trances and
\ndislocations of the bones which always happen when the communications
\nare not purely spiritual–that is, are not given to the spirit alone,
\nas are those of the perfect who are purified by the second night of the
\nspirit, and in whom these raptures and torments of the body no longer
\nexist, since they are enjoying liberty of spirit, and their senses are
\nnow neither clouded nor transported.<\/p>\n
3. And in order that the necessity for such souls to enter this night
\nof the spirit may be understood, we will here note certain
\nimperfections and perils which belong to these proficients.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[99] [Lit., from a narrow prison.’]<\/p>\n
[100] [i.e., between sense and spirit.]<\/p>\n
[101] Psalm cxlvii, 17 [D.V. and A.V.].<\/p>\n
[102] Wisdom ix, 15.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER II<\/p>\n
Describes other imperfections [103] which belong to these
\nproficients.<\/p>\n
THESE proficients have two kinds of imperfection: the one kind is
\nhabitual; the other actual. The habitual imperfections are the
\nimperfect habits and affections which have remained all the time in the
\nspirit, and are like roots, to which the purgation of sense has been
\nunable to penetrate. The difference between the purgation of these and
\nthat of this other kind is the difference between the root and the
\nbranch, or between the removing of a stain which is fresh and one which
\nis old and of long standing. For, as we said, the purgation of sense is
\nonly the entrance and beginning of contemplation leading to the
\npurgation of the spirit, which, as we have likewise said, serves rather
\nto accommodate sense to spirit than to unite spirit with God. But there
\nstill remain in the spirit the stains of the old man, although the
\nspirit thinks not that this is so, neither can it perceive them; if
\nthese stains be not removed with the soap and strong lye of the
\npurgation of this night, the spirit will be unable to come to the
\npurity of Divine union.<\/p>\n
2. These souls have likewise the hebetudo mentis [104] and the natural
\nroughness which every man contracts through sin, and the distraction
\nand outward clinging of the spirit, which must be enlightened, refined
\nand recollected by the afflictions and perils of that night. These
\nhabitual imperfections belong to all those who have not passed beyond
\nthis state of the proficient; they cannot coexist, as we say, with the
\nperfect state of union through love.<\/p>\n
3. To actual imperfections all are not liable in the same way. Some,
\nwhose spiritual good is so superficial and so readily affected by
\nsense, fall into greater difficulties and dangers, which we described
\nat the beginning of this treatise. For, as they find so many and such
\nabundant spiritual communications and apprehensions, both in sense and
\nin spirit wherein they oftentimes see imaginary and spiritual visions
\n(for all these things, together with other delectable feelings, come to
\nmany souls in this state, wherein the devil and their own fancy very
\ncommonly practise deceptions on them), and, as the devil is apt to take
\nsuch pleasure in impressing upon the soul and suggesting to it the said
\napprehensions and feelings, he fascinates and deludes it with great
\nease unless it takes the precaution of resigning itself to God, and of
\nprotecting itself strongly, by means of faith, from all these visions
\nand feelings. For in this state the devil causes many to believe in
\nvain visions and false prophecies; and strives to make them presume
\nthat God and the saints are speaking with them; and they often trust
\ntheir own fancy. And the devil is also accustomed, in this state, to
\nfill them with presumption and pride, so that they become attracted by
\nvanity and arrogance, and allow themselves to be seen engaging in
\noutward acts which appear holy, such as raptures and other
\nmanifestations. Thus they become bold with God, and lose holy fear,
\nwhich is the key and the custodian of all the virtues; and in some of
\nthese souls so many are the falsehoods and deceits which tend to
\nmultiply, and so inveterate do they grow, that it is very doubtful if
\nsuch souls will return to the pure road of virtue and true
\nspirituality. Into these miseries they fall because they are beginning
\nto give themselves over to spiritual feelings and apprehensions with
\ntoo great security, when they were beginning to make some progress upon
\nthe way.<\/p>\n
4. There is much more that I might say of these imperfections and of
\nhow they are the more incurable because such souls consider them to be
\nmore spiritual than the others, but I will leave this subject. I shall
\nonly add, in order to prove how necessary, for him that would go
\nfarther, is the night of the spirit, which is purgation, that none of
\nthese proficients, however strenuously he may have laboured, is free,
\nat best, from many of those natural affections and imperfect habits,
\npurification from which, we said, is necessary if a soul is to pass to
\nDivine union.<\/p>\n
5. And over and above this (as we have said already), inasmuch as the
\nlower part of the soul still has a share in these spiritual
\ncommunications, they cannot be as intense, as pure and as strong as is
\nneedful for the aforesaid union; wherefore, in order to come to this
\nunion, the soul must needs enter into the second night of the spirit,
\nwherein it must strip sense and spirit perfectly from all these
\napprehensions and from all sweetness, and be made to walk in dark and
\npure faith, which is the proper and adequate means whereby the soul is
\nunited with God, according as Osee says, in these words: I will betroth
\nthee–that is, I will unite thee–with Me through faith.’ [105]
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[103] [Lit., Continues with other imperfections.’]<\/p>\n
[104] [i.e., deadening of the mind.’]<\/p>\n
[105] Osee ii, 20.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER III<\/p>\n
Annotation for that which follows.<\/p>\n
THESE souls, then, have now become proficients, because of the time
\nwhich they have spent in feeding the senses with sweet communications,
\nso that their sensual part, being thus attracted and delighted by
\nspiritual pleasure, which came to it from the spirit, may be united
\nwith the spirit and made one with it; each part after its own manner
\neating of one and the same spiritual food and from one and the same
\ndish, as one person and with one sole intent, so that thus they may in
\na certain way be united and brought into agreement, and, thus united,
\nmay be prepared for the endurance of the stern and severe purgation of
\nthe spirit which awaits them. In this purgation these two parts of the
\nsoul, the spiritual and the sensual, must be completely purged, since
\nthe one is never truly purged without the other, the purgation of sense
\nbecoming effective when that of the spirit has fairly begun. Wherefore
\nthe night which we have called that of sense may and should be called a
\nkind of correction and restraint of the desire rather than purgation.
\nThe reason is that all the imperfections and disorders of the sensual
\npart have their strength and root in the spirit, where all habits, both
\ngood and bad, are brought into subjection, and thus, until these are
\npurged, the rebellions and depravities of sense cannot be purged
\nthoroughly.<\/p>\n
2. Wherefore, in this night following, both parts of the soul are
\npurged together, and it is for this end that it is well to have passed
\nthrough the corrections of the first night, and the period of
\ntranquillity which proceeds from it, in order that, sense being united
\nwith spirit, both may be purged after a certain manner and may then
\nsuffer with greater fortitude. For very great fortitude is needful for
\nso violent and severe a purgation, since, if the weakness of the lower
\npart has not first been corrected and fortitude has not been gained
\nfrom God through the sweet and delectable communion which the soul has
\nafterwards enjoyed with Him, its nature will not have the strength or
\nthe disposition to bear it.<\/p>\n
3. Therefore, since these proficients are still at a very low stage of
\nprogress, and follow their own nature closely in the intercourse and
\ndealings which they have with God, because the gold of their spirit is
\nnot yet purified and refined, they still think of God as little
\nchildren, and speak of God as little children, and feel and experience
\nGod as little children, even as Saint Paul says, [106] because they
\nhave not reached perfection, which is the union of the soul with God.
\nIn the state of union, however, they will work great things in the
\nspirit, even as grown men, and their works and faculties will then be
\nDivine rather than human, as will afterwards be said. To this end God
\nis pleased to strip them of this old man and clothe them with the new
\nman, who is created according to God, as the Apostle says, [107] in the
\nnewness of sense. He strips their faculties, affections and feelings,
\nboth spiritual and sensual, both outward and inward, leaving the
\nunderstanding dark, the will dry, the memory empty and the affections
\nin the deepest affliction, bitterness and constraint, taking from the
\nsoul the pleasure and experience of spiritual blessings which it had
\naforetime, in order to make of this privation one of the principles
\nwhich are requisite in the spirit so that there may be introduced into
\nit and united with it the spiritual form of the spirit, which is the
\nunion of love. All this the Lord works in the soul by means of a pure
\nand dark contemplation, as the soul explains in the first stanza. This,
\nalthough we originally interpreted it with reference to the first night
\nof sense, is principally understood by the soul of this second night of
\nthe spirit, since this is the principal part of the purification of the
\nsoul. And thus we shall set it down and expound it here again in this
\nsense.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[106] 1 Corinthians xiii, 11.<\/p>\n
[107] [Ephesians iv, 24.]
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER IV<\/p>\n
Sets down the first stanza and the exposition thereof.<\/p>\n
On a dark night, Kindled in love with yearnings–oh, happy chance!–
\nI went forth without being observed, My house being now at rest.<\/p>\n
EXPOSITION<\/p>\n
INTERPRETING this stanza now with reference to purgation, contemplation
\nor detachment or poverty of spirit, which here are almost one and the
\nsame thing, we can expound it after this manner and make the soul speak
\nthus: In poverty, and without protection or support in all the
\napprehensions of my soul–that is, in the darkness of my understanding
\nand the constraint of my will, in affliction and anguish with respect
\nto memory, remaining in the dark in pure faith, which is dark night for
\nthe said natural faculties, the will alone being touched by grief and
\nafflictions and yearnings for the love of God–I went forth from
\nmyself–that is, from my low manner of understanding, from my weak mode
\nof loving and from my poor and limited manner of experiencing God,
\nwithout being hindered therein by sensuality or the devil.<\/p>\n
2. This was a great happiness and a good chance for me; for, when the
\nfaculties had been perfectly annihilated and calmed, together with the
\npassions, desires and affections of my soul, wherewith I had
\nexperienced and tasted God after a lowly manner, I went forth from my
\nown human dealings and operations to the operations and dealings of
\nGod. That is to say, my understanding went forth from itself, turning
\nfrom the human and natural to the Divine; for, when it is united with
\nGod by means of this purgation, its understanding no longer comes
\nthrough its natural light and vigour, but through the Divine Wisdom
\nwherewith it has become united. And my will went forth from itself,
\nbecoming Divine; for, being united with Divine love, it no longer loves
\nwith its natural strength after a lowly manner, but with strength and
\npurity from the Holy Spirit; and thus the will, which is now near to
\nGod, acts not after a human manner, and similarly the memory has become
\ntransformed into eternal apprehensions of glory. And finally, by means
\nof this night and purgation of the old man, all the energies and
\naffections of the soul are wholly renewed into a Divine temper and
\nDivine delight.<\/p>\n
There follows the line:<\/p>\n
On a dark night.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER V<\/p>\n
Sets down the first line and begins to explain how this dark
\ncontemplation is not only night for the soul but is also grief and
\ntorment.<\/p>\n
THIS dark night is an inflowing of God into the soul, which purges it
\nfrom its ignorances and imperfections, habitual natural and spiritual,
\nand which is called by contemplatives infused contemplation, or
\nmystical theology. Herein God secretly teaches the soul and instructs
\nit in perfection of love without its doing anything, or understanding
\nof what manner is this infused contemplation. Inasmuch as it is the
\nloving wisdom of God, God produces striking effects in the soul for, by
\npurging and illumining it, He prepares it for the union of love with
\nGod. Wherefore the same loving wisdom that purges the blessed spirits
\nand enlightens them is that which here purges the soul and illumines
\nit.<\/p>\n
2. But the question arises: Why is the Divine light (which as we say,
\nillumines and purges the soul from its ignorances) here called by the
\nsoul a dark night? To this the answer is that for two reasons this
\nDivine wisdom is not only night and darkness for the soul, but is
\nlikewise affliction and torment. The first is because of the height of
\nDivine Wisdom, which transcends the talent of the soul, and in this way
\nis darkness to it; the second, because of its vileness and impurity, in
\nwhich respect it is painful and afflictive to it, and is also dark.<\/p>\n
3. In order to prove the first point, we must here assume a certain
\ndoctrine of the philosopher, which says that, the clearer and more
\nmanifest are Divine things in themselves the darker and more hidden are
\nthey to the soul naturally; just as, the clearer is the light, the more
\nit blinds and darkens the pupil of the owl, and, the more directly we
\nlook at the sun, the greater is the darkness which it causes in our
\nvisual faculty, overcoming and overwhelming it through its own
\nweakness. In the same way, when this Divine light of contemplation
\nassails the soul which is not yet wholly enlightened, it causes
\nspiritual darkness in it; for not only does it overcome it, but
\nlikewise it overwhelms it and darkens the act of its natural
\nintelligence. For this reason Saint Dionysius and other mystical
\ntheologians call this infused contemplation a ray of darkness–that is
\nto say, for the soul that is not enlightened and purged–for the
\nnatural strength of the intellect is transcended and overwhelmed by its
\ngreat supernatural light. Wherefore David likewise said: That near to
\nGod and round about Him are darkness and cloud; [108] not that this is
\nso in fact, but that it is so to our weak understanding, which is
\nblinded and darkened by so vast a light, to which it cannot attain.
\n[109] For this cause the same David then explained himself, saying:
\nThrough the great splendour of His presence passed clouds’ [110] –that
\nis, between God and our understanding. And it is for this cause that,
\nwhen God sends it out from Himself to the soul that is not yet
\ntransformed, this illumining ray of His secret wisdom causes thick
\ndarkness in the understanding.<\/p>\n
4. And it is clear that this dark contemplation is in these its
\nbeginnings painful likewise to the soul; for, as this Divine infused
\ncontemplation has many excellences that are extremely good, and the
\nsoul that receives them, not being purged, has many miseries that are
\nlikewise extremely bad, hence it follows that, as two contraries cannot
\ncoexist in one subject–the soul–it must of necessity have pain and
\nsuffering, since it is the subject wherein these two contraries war
\nagainst each other, working the one against the other, by reason of the
\npurgation of the imperfections of the soul which comes to pass through
\nthis contemplation. This we shall prove inductively in the manner
\nfollowing.<\/p>\n
5. In the first place, because the light and wisdom of this
\ncontemplation is most bright and pure, and the soul which it assails is
\ndark and impure, it follows that the soul suffers great pain when it
\nreceives it in itself, just as, when the eyes are dimmed by humours,
\nand become impure and weak, the assault made upon them by a bright
\nlight causes them pain. And when the soul suffers the direct assault of
\nthis Divine light, its pain, which results from its impurity, is
\nimmense; because, when this pure light assails the soul, in order to
\nexpel its impurity, the soul feels itself to be so impure and miserable
\nthat it believes God to be against it, and thinks that it has set
\nitself up against God. This causes it sore grief and pain, because it
\nnow believes that God has cast it away: this was one of the greatest
\ntrials which Job felt when God sent him this experience, and he said:
\nWhy hast Thou set me contrary to Thee, so that I am grievous and
\nburdensome to myself?’ [111] For, by means of this pure light, the soul
\nnow sees its impurity clearly (although darkly), and knows clearly that
\nit is unworthy of God or of any creature. And what gives it most pain
\nis that it thinks that it will never be worthy and that its good things
\nare all over for it. This is caused by the profound immersion of its
\nspirit in the knowledge and realization of its evils and miseries; for
\nthis Divine and dark light now reveals them all to the eye, that it may
\nsee clearly how in its own strength it can never have aught else. In
\nthis sense we may understand that passage from David, which says: For
\niniquity Thou hast corrected man and hast made his soul to be undone
\nand consumed: he wastes away as the spider.’ [112]<\/p>\n
6. The second way in which the soul suffers pain is by reason of its
\nweakness, natural, moral and spiritual; for, when this Divine
\ncontemplation assails the soul with a certain force, in order to
\nstrengthen it and subdue it, it suffers such pain in its weakness that
\nit nearly swoons away. This is especially so at certain times when it
\nis assailed with somewhat greater force; for sense and spirit, as if
\nbeneath some immense and dark load, are in such great pain and agony
\nthat the soul would find advantage and relief in death. This had been
\nexperienced by the prophet Job, when he said: I desire not that He
\nshould have intercourse with me in great strength, lest He oppress me
\nwith the weight of His greatness.’ [113]<\/p>\n
7. Beneath the power of this oppression and weight the soul feels
\nitself so far from being favoured that it thinks, and correctly so,
\nthat even that wherein it was wont to find some help has vanished with
\neverything else, and that there is none who has pity upon it. To this
\neffect Job says likewise: Have pity upon me, have pity upon me, at
\nleast ye my friends, because the hand of the Lord has touched me.’
\n[114] A thing of great wonder and pity is it that the soul’s weakness
\nand impurity should now be so great that, though the hand of God is of
\nitself so light and gentle, the soul should now feel it to be so heavy
\nand so contrary, [115] though it neither weighs it down nor rests upon
\nit, but only touches it, and that mercifully, since He does this in
\norder to grant the soul favours and not to chastise it.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[108] Psalm xcvi, 2 [A.V., xcvii, 2].<\/p>\n
[109] [Lit., not attaining.’]<\/p>\n
[110] Psalm xvii, 13, [A.V., xviii, 12].<\/p>\n
[111] Job vii, 20.<\/p>\n
[112] Psalm xxxviii, 12 [A.V., xxxix, 11].<\/p>\n
[113] Job xxiii, 6.<\/p>\n
[114] Job xix, 21.<\/p>\n
[115] [There is a reference here to Job vii, 20: cf. sect. 5, above.]
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER VI<\/p>\n
Of other kinds of pain that the soul suffers in this night.<\/p>\n
THE third kind of suffering and pain that the soul endures in this
\nstate results from the fact that two other extremes meet here in one,
\nnamely, the Divine and the human. The Divine is this purgative
\ncontemplation, and the human is the subject–that is, the soul. The
\nDivine assails the soul in order to renew it and thus to make it
\nDivine; and, stripping it of the habitual affections and attachments of
\nthe old man, to which it is very closely united, knit together and
\nconformed, destroys and consumes its spiritual substance, and absorbs
\nit in deep and profound darkness. As a result of this, the soul feels
\nitself to be perishing and melting away, in the presence and sight of
\nits miseries, in a cruel spiritual death, even as if it had been
\nswallowed by a beast and felt itself being devoured in the darkness of
\nits belly, suffering such anguish as was endured by Jonas in the belly
\nof that beast of the sea. [116] For in this sepulchre of dark death it
\nmust needs abide until the spiritual resurrection which it hopes for.<\/p>\n
2. A description of this suffering and pain, although in truth it
\ntranscends all description, is given by David, when he says: The
\nlamentations of death compassed me about; the pains of hell surrounded
\nme; I cried in my tribulation.’ [117] But what the sorrowful soul feels
\nmost in this condition is its clear perception, as it thinks, that God
\nhas abandoned it, and, in His abhorrence of it, has flung it into
\ndarkness; it is a grave and piteous grief for it to believe that God
\nhas forsaken it. It is this that David also felt so much in a like
\ncase, saying: After the manner wherein the wounded are dead in the
\nsepulchres,’ being now cast off by Thy hand, so that Thou rememberest
\nthem no more, even so have they set me in the deepest and lowest lake,
\nin the dark places and in the shadow of death, and Thy fury is
\nconfirmed upon me and all Thy waves Thou hast brought in upon me.’
\n[118] For indeed, when this purgative contemplation is most severe, the
\nsoul feels very keenly the shadow of death and the lamentations of
\ndeath and the pains of hell, which consist in its feeling itself to be
\nwithout God, and chastised and cast out, and unworthy of Him; and it
\nfeels that He is wroth with it. All this is felt by the soul in this
\ncondition–yea, and more, for it believes that it is so with it for
\never.<\/p>\n
3. It feels, too, that all creatures have forsaken it, and that it is
\ncontemned by them, particularly by its friends. Wherefore David
\npresently continues, saying: ‘ Thou hast put far from me my friends and
\nacquaintances; they have counted me an abomination.’ [119] To all this
\nwill Jonas testify, as one who likewise experienced it in the belly of
\nthe beast, both bodily and spiritually. Thou hast cast me forth (he
\nsays) into the deep, into the heart of the sea, and the flood hath
\ncompassed me; all its billows and waves have passed over me. And I
\nsaid, ?I am cast away out of the sight of Thine eyes, but I shall once
\nagain see Thy holy temple? (which he says, because God purifies the
\nsoul in this state that it may see His temple); the waters compassed
\nme, even to the soul, the deep hath closed me round about, the ocean
\nhath covered my head, I went down to the lowest parts of the mountains;
\nthe bars of the earth have shut me up for ever.’ [120] By these bars
\nare here understood, in this sense, imperfections of the soul, which
\nhave impeded it from enjoying this delectable contemplation.<\/p>\n
4. The fourth kind of pain is caused in the soul by another excellence
\nof this dark contemplation, which is its majesty and greatness, from
\nwhich arises in the soul a consciousness of the other extreme which is
\nin itself–namely, that of the deepest poverty and wretchedness: this
\nis one of the chiefest pains that it suffers in this purgation. For it
\nfeels within itself a profound emptiness and impoverishment of three
\nkinds of good, which are ordained for the pleasure of the soul which
\nare the temporal, the natural and the spiritual; and finds itself set
\nin the midst of the evils contrary to these, namely, miseries of
\nimperfection, aridity and emptiness of the apprehensions of the
\nfaculties and abandonment of the spirit in darkness. Inasmuch as God
\nhere purges the soul according to the substance of its sense and
\nspirit, and according to the interior and exterior faculties, the soul
\nmust needs be in all its parts reduced to a state of emptiness, poverty
\nand abandonment and must be left dry and empty and in darkness. For the
\nsensual part is purified in aridity, the faculties are purified in the
\nemptiness of their perceptions and the spirit is purified in thick
\ndarkness.<\/p>\n
5. All this God brings to pass by means of this dark contemplation;
\nwherein the soul not only suffers this emptiness and the suspension of
\nthese natural supports and perceptions, which is a most afflictive
\nsuffering (as if a man were suspended or held in the air so that he
\ncould not breathe), but likewise He is purging the soul, annihilating
\nit, emptying it or consuming in it (even as fire consumes the
\nmouldiness and the rust of metal) all the affections and imperfect
\nhabits which it has contracted in its whole life. Since these are
\ndeeply rooted in the substance of the soul, it is wont to suffer great
\nundoings and inward torment, besides the said poverty and emptiness,
\nnatural and spiritual, so that there may here be fulfilled that passage
\nfrom Ezechiel which says: Heap together the bones and I will burn them
\nin the fire; the flesh shall be consumed and the whole composition
\nshall be burned and the bones shall be destroyed.’ [121] Herein is
\nunderstood the pain which is suffered in the emptiness and poverty of
\nthe substance of the soul both in sense and in spirit. And concerning
\nthis he then says: ‘set it also empty upon the coals, that its metal
\nmay become hot and molten, and its uncleanness may be destroyed within
\nit, and its rust may be consumed.’ [122] Herein is described the grave
\nsuffering which the soul here endures in the purgation of the fire of
\nthis contemplation, for the Prophet says here that, in order for the
\nrust of the affections which are within the soul to be purified and
\ndestroyed, it is needful that, in a certain manner, the soul itself
\nshould be annihilated and destroyed, since these passions and
\nimperfections have become natural to it.<\/p>\n
6. Wherefore, because the soul is purified in this furnace like gold in
\na crucible, as says the Wise Man, [123] it is conscious of this
\ncomplete undoing of itself in its very substance, together with the
\ndirest poverty, wherein it is, as it were, nearing its end, as may be
\nseen by that which David says of himself in this respect, in these
\nwords: ‘save me, Lord (he cries to God), for the waters have come in
\neven unto my soul; I am made fast in the mire of the deep and there is
\nno place where I can stand; I am come into the depth of the sea and a
\ntempest hath overwhelmed me; I have laboured crying, my throat has
\nbecome hoarse, mine eyes have failed whilst I hope in my God.’ [124]
\nHere God greatly humbles the soul in order that He may afterwards
\ngreatly exalt it; and if He ordained not that, when these feelings
\narise within the soul, they should speedily be stilled, it would die in
\na very short space; but there are only occasional periods when it is
\nconscious of their greatest intensity. At times, however, they are so
\nkeen that the soul seems to be seeing hell and perdition opened. Of
\nsuch are they that in truth go down alive into hell, being purged here
\non earth in the same manner as there, since this purgation is that
\nwhich would have to be accomplished there. And thus the soul that
\npasses through this either enters not that place [125] at all, or
\ntarries there but for a very short time; for one hour of purgation here
\nis more profitable than are many there.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[116] Jonas ii, 1.<\/p>\n
[117]<\/p>\n
[118] Psalm lxxxvii, 6-8 [A.V., lxxxviii, 5-7].<\/p>\n
[119] Psalm lxxxvii, 9 [A.V., lxxxviii, 8].<\/p>\n
[120] Jonas ii, 4-7 [A.V., ii, 3-6].<\/p>\n
[121] Ezechiel xxiv, 10.<\/p>\n
[122] Ezechiel xxiv, 11.<\/p>\n
[123] Wisdom iii, 6.<\/p>\n
[124] Psalm lxviii, 2-4 [A.V., lxix, 1-3].<\/p>\n
[125] [i.e., purgatory.]
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER VII<\/p>\n
Continues the same matter and considers other afflictions end
\nconstraints of the will.<\/p>\n
THE afflictions and constraints of the will are now very great
\nlikewise, and of such a kind that they sometimes transpierce the soul
\nwith a sudden remembrance of the evils in the midst of which it finds
\nitself, and with the uncertainty of finding a remedy for them. And to
\nthis is added the remembrance of times of prosperity now past; for as a
\nrule souls that enter this night have had many consolations from God,
\nand have rendered Him many services, and it causes them the greater
\ngrief to see that they are far removed from that happiness and unable
\nto enter into it. This was also described by Job, who had had
\nexperience of it, in these words: I, who was wont to be wealthy and
\nrich, am suddenly undone and broken to pieces; He hath taken me by my
\nneck; He hath broken me and set me up for His mark to wound me; He hath
\ncompassed me round about with His lances; He hath wounded all my loins;
\nHe hath not spared; He hath poured out my bowels on the earth; He hath
\nbroken me with wound upon wound; He hath assailed me as a strong giant;
\nI have sewed sackcloth upon my skin and have covered my flesh with
\nashes; my face is become swollen with weeping and mine eyes are
\nblinded.’ [126]<\/p>\n
2. So many and so grievous are the afflictions of this night, and so
\nmany passages of Scripture are there which could be cited to this
\npurpose, that time and strength would fail us to write of them, for all
\nthat can be said thereof is certainly less than the truth. From the
\npassages already quoted some idea may be gained of them. And, that we
\nmay bring the exposition of this line to a close and explain more fully
\nwhat is worked in the soul by this night, I shall tell what Jeremias
\nfelt about it, which, since there is so much of it, he describes and
\nbewails in many words after this manner: I am the man that see my
\npoverty in the rod of His indignation; He hath threatened me and
\nbrought me into darkness and not into light. So far hath He turned
\nagainst me and hath converted His hand upon me all the day! My skin and
\nmy flesh hath He made old; He hath broken my bones; He hath made a
\nfence around me and compassed me with gall and trial; He hath set me in
\ndark places, as those that are dead for ever. He hath made a fence
\naround me and against me, that I may not go out; He hath made my
\ncaptivity heavy. Yea, and when I have cried and have entreated, He hath
\nshut out my prayer. He hath enclosed my paths and ways out with square
\nstones; He hath thwarted my steps. He hath set ambushes for me; He hath
\nbecome to me a lion in a secret place. He hath turned aside my steps
\nand broken me in pieces, He hath made me desolate; He hath bent His bow
\nand set me as a mark for His arrow. He hath shot into my reins the
\ndaughters of His quiver. I have become a derision to all the people,
\nand laughter and scorn for them all the day. He hath filled me with
\nbitterness and hath made me drunken with wormwood. He hath broken my
\nteeth by number; He hath fed me with ashes. My soul is cast out from
\npeace; I have forgotten good things. And I said: ?Mine end is
\nfrustrated and cut short, together with my desire and my hope from the
\nLord. Remember my poverty and my excess, the wormwood and the gall. I
\nshall be mindful with remembrance and my soul shall be undone within me
\nin pains.?’ [127]<\/p>\n
3. All these complaints Jeremias makes about these pains and trials,
\nand by means of them he most vividly depicts the sufferings of the soul
\nin this spiritual night and purgation. Wherefore the soul that God sets
\nin this tempestuous and horrible night is deserving of great
\ncompassion. For, although it experiences much happiness by reason of
\nthe great blessings that must arise on this account within it, when, as
\nJob says, God raises up profound blessings in the soul out of darkness,
\nand brings up to light the shadow of death, [128] so that, as David
\nsays, His light comes to be as was His darkness; [129] yet
\nnotwithstanding, by reason of the dreadful pain which the soul is
\nsuffering, and of the great uncertainty which it has concerning the
\nremedy for it, since it believes, as this prophet says here, that its
\nevil will never end, and it thinks, as David says likewise, that God
\nset it in dark places like those that are dead, [130] and for this
\nreason brought its spirit within it into anguish and troubled its
\nheart, [131] it suffers great pain and grief, since there is added to
\nall this (because of the solitude and abandonment caused in it by this
\ndark night) the fact that it finds no consolation or support in any
\ninstruction nor in a spiritual master. For, although in many ways its
\ndirector may show it good reason for being comforted because of the
\nblessings which are contained in these afflictions, it cannot believe
\nhim. For it is so greatly absorbed and immersed in the realization of
\nthose evils wherein it sees its own miseries so clearly, that it thinks
\nthat, as its director observes not that which it sees and feels, he is
\nspeaking in this manner because he understands it not; and so, instead
\nof comfort, it rather receives fresh affliction, since it believes that
\nits director’s advice contains no remedy for its troubles. And, in
\ntruth, this is so; for, until the Lord shall have completely purged it
\nafter the manner that He wills, no means or remedy is of any service or
\nprofit for the relief of its affliction; the more so because the soul
\nis as powerless in this case as one who has been imprisoned in a dark
\ndungeon, and is bound hand and foot, and can neither move nor see, nor
\nfeel any favour whether from above or from below, until the spirit is
\nhumbled, softened and purified, and grows so keen and delicate and pure
\nthat it can become one with the Spirit of God, according to the degree
\nof union of love which His mercy is pleased to grant it; in proportion
\nto this the purgation is of greater or less severity and of greater or
\nless duration.<\/p>\n
4. But, if it is to be really effectual, it will last for some years,
\nhowever severe it be; since the purgative process allows intervals of
\nrelief wherein, by the dispensation of God, this dark contemplation
\nceases to assail the soul in the form and manner of purgation, and
\nassails it after an illuminative and a loving manner, wherein the soul,
\nlike one that has gone forth from this dungeon and imprisonment, and is
\nbrought into the recreation of spaciousness and liberty, feels and
\nexperiences great sweetness of peace and loving friendship with God,
\ntogether with a ready abundance of spiritual communication. This is to
\nthe soul a sign of the health which is being wrought within it by the
\nsaid purgation and a foretaste of the abundance for which it hopes.
\nOccasionally this is so great that the soul believes its trials to be
\nat last over. For spiritual things in the soul, when they are most
\npurely spiritual, have this characteristic that, if trials come to it,
\nthe soul believes that it will never escape from them, and that all its
\nblessings are now over, as has been seen in the passages quoted; and,
\nif spiritual blessings come, the soul believes in the same way that its
\ntroubles are now over, and that blessings will never fail it. This was
\nso with David, when he found himself in the midst of them, as he
\nconfesses in these words: I said in my abundance: ?I shall never be
\nmoved.?’ [132]<\/p>\n
5. This happens because the actual possession by the spirit of one of
\ntwo contrary things itself makes impossible the actual possession and
\nrealization of the other contrary thing; this is not so, however, in
\nthe sensual part of the soul, because its apprehension is weak. But, as
\nthe spirit is not yet completely purged and cleansed from the
\naffections that it has contracted from its lower part, while changing
\nnot in so far as it is spirit, it can be moved to further afflictions
\nin so far as these affections sway it. In this way, as we see, David
\nwas afterwards moved, and experienced many ills and afflictions,
\nalthough in the time of his abundance he had thought and said that he
\nwould never be moved. Just so is it with the soul in this condition,
\nwhen it sees itself moved by that abundance of spiritual blessings,
\nand, being unable to see the root of the imperfection and impurity
\nwhich still remain within it, thinks that its trials are over.<\/p>\n
6. This thought, however, comes to the soul but seldom, for, until
\nspiritual purification is complete and perfected, the sweet
\ncommunication is very rarely so abundant as to conceal from the soul
\nthe root which remains hidden, in such a way that the soul can cease to
\nfeel that there is something that it lacks within itself or that it has
\nstill to do. Thus it cannot completely enjoy that relief, but feels as
\nif one of its enemies were within it, and although this enemy is, as it
\nwere, hushed and asleep, it fears that he will come to life again and
\nattack it. [133] And this is what indeed happens, for, when the soul is
\nmost secure and least alert, it is dragged down and immersed again in
\nanother and a worse degree of affliction which is severer and darker
\nand more grievous than that which is past; and this new affliction will
\ncontinue for a further period of time, perhaps longer than the first.
\nAnd the soul once more comes to believe that all its blessings are over
\nfor ever. Although it had thought during its first trial that there
\nwere no more afflictions which it could suffer, and yet, after the
\ntrial was over, it enjoyed great blessings, this experience is not
\nsufficient to take away its belief, during this second degree of trial,
\nthat all is now over for it and that it will never again be happy as in
\nthe past. For, as I say, this belief, of which the soul is so sure, is
\ncaused in it by the actual apprehension of the spirit, which
\nannihilates within it all that is contrary to it.<\/p>\n
7. This is the reason why those who lie in purgatory suffer great
\nmisgivings as to whether they will ever go forth from it and whether
\ntheir pains will ever be over. For, although they have the habit of the
\nthree theological virtues–faith, hope and charity–the present
\nrealization which they have of their afflictions and of their
\ndeprivation of God allows them not to enjoy the present blessing and
\nconsolation of these virtues. For, although they are able to realize
\nthat they have a great love for God, this is no consolation to them,
\nsince they cannot think that God loves them or that they are worthy
\nthat He should do so; rather, as they see that they are deprived of
\nHim, and left in their own miseries, they think that there is that in
\nthemselves which provides a very good reason why they should with
\nperfect justice be abhorred and cast out by God for ever. [134] And
\nthus although the soul in this purgation is conscious that it has a
\ngreat love for God and would give a thousand lives for Him (which is
\nthe truth, for in these trials such souls love their God very
\nearnestly), yet this is no relief to it, but rather brings it greater
\naffliction. For it loves Him so much that it cares about naught beside;
\nwhen, therefore, it sees itself to be so wretched that it cannot
\nbelieve that God loves it, nor that there is or will ever be reason why
\nHe should do so, but rather that there is reason why it should be
\nabhorred, not only by Him, but by all creatures for ever, it is grieved
\nto see in itself reasons for deserving to be cast out by Him for Whom
\nit has such great love and desire.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[126] Job xvi, 13-17 [A.V., xvi, 12-16].<\/p>\n
[127] Lamentations iii, 1-20.<\/p>\n
[128] Job xii, 22.<\/p>\n
[129] Psalm cxxxviii, 12 [A.V., cxxxix, 12].<\/p>\n
[130] [Lit., like to the dead of the world (or of the age).’]<\/p>\n
[131] Psalm cxlii, 3 [A.V., cxliii, 3-4].<\/p>\n
[132] Psalm xxix, 7 [A.V., xxx, 6].<\/p>\n
[133] [Lit., and play his tricks upon it.’]<\/p>\n
[134] B. Bz., C, H. Mtr. all have this long passage on the suffering of
\nthe soul in Purgatory. It would be rash, therefore, to deny that St.
\nJohn of the Cross is its author, [or to suppose, as P. Gerardo did,
\nthat he deleted it during a revision of his works]. An admirably
\nconstructed synthesis of these questions will be found in B. Belarmino,
\nDe Purgatorio, Bk. II, chaps. iv, v. He asks if souls in Purgatory are
\nsure of their salvation. This was denied by Luther, and by a number of
\nCatholic writers, who held that, among the afflictions of these souls,
\nthe greatest is this very uncertainty, some maintain that, though they
\nhave in fact such certainty, they are unaware of it. Belarmino quotes
\namong other authorities Denis the Carthusian De quattuor novissimis,
\nGerson (Lect. I De Vita Spirituali) and John of Rochester (against
\nLuther’s 32nd article); these writers claim that, as sin which is
\nvenial is only so through the Divine mercy, it may with perfect justice
\nbe rewarded by eternal punishment, and thus souls that have committed
\nvenial sin cannot be confident of their salvation. He also shows,
\nhowever, that the common opinion of theologians is that the souls in
\nPurgatory are sure of their salvation, and considers various degrees of
\ncertainty, adding very truly that, while these souls experience no
\nfear, they experience hope, since they have not yet the Beatific
\nvision. Uncertainty as to their salvation, it is said, might arise from
\nignorance of the sentence passed upon them by the Judge or from the
\ndeadening of their faculties by the torments which they are suffering.
\nBelarmino refutes these and other suppositions with great force and
\neffect. St. John of the Cross seems to be referring to the last named
\nwhen he writes of the realization of their afflictions and their
\ndeprivation of God not allowing them to enjoy the blessings of the
\ntheological virtues. It is not surprising if the Saint, not having
\nexamined very closely this question, of which he would have read
\ntreatments in various authors, thought of it principally as an apt
\nillustration of the purifying and refining effects of passive
\npurgation; and an apt illustration it certainly is.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER VIII<\/p>\n
Of other pains which afflict the soul in this state.<\/p>\n
BUT there is another thing here that afflicts and distresses the soul
\ngreatly, which is that, as this dark night has hindered its faculties
\nand affections in this way, it is unable to raise its affection or its
\nmind to God, neither can it pray to Him, thinking, as Jeremias thought
\nconcerning himself, that God has set a cloud before it through which
\nits prayer cannot pass. [135] For it is this that is meant by that
\nwhich is said in the passage referred to, namely: ‘ He hath shut and
\nenclosed my paths with square stones.’ [136] And if it sometimes prays
\nit does so with such lack of strength and of sweetness that it thinks
\nthat God neither hears it nor pays heed to it, as this Prophet likewise
\ndeclares in the same passage, saying: When I cry and entreat, He hath
\nshut out my prayer.’ [137] In truth this is no time for the soul to
\nspeak with God; it should rather put its mouth in the dust, as Jeremias
\nsays, so that perchance there may come to it some present hope, [138]
\nand it may endure its purgation with patience. It is God Who is
\npassively working here in the soul; wherefore the soul can do nothing.
\nHence it can neither pray nor pay attention when it is present at the
\nDivine offices, [139] much less can it attend to other things and
\naffairs which are temporal. Not only so, but it has likewise such
\ndistractions and times of such profound forgetfulness of the memory
\nthat frequent periods pass by without its knowing what it has been
\ndoing or thinking, or what it is that it is doing or is going to do,
\nneither can it pay attention, although it desire to do so, to anything
\nthat occupies it.<\/p>\n
2. Inasmuch as not only is the understanding here purged of its light,
\nand the will of its affections, but the memory is also purged of
\nmeditation and knowledge, it is well that it be likewise annihilated
\nwith respect to all these things, so that that which David says of
\nhimself in this purgation may by fulfilled, namely: ‘ I was annihilated
\nand I knew not.’ [140] This unknowing refers to these follies and
\nforgetfulnesses of the memory, which distractions and forgetfulnesses
\nare caused by the interior recollection wherein this contemplation
\nabsorbs the soul. For, in order that the soul may be divinely prepared
\nand tempered with its faculties for the Divine union of love, it would
\nbe well for it to be first of all absorbed, with all its faculties, in
\nthis Divine and dark spiritual light of contemplation, and thus to be
\nwithdrawn from all the affections and apprehensions of the creatures,
\nwhich condition ordinarily continues in proportion to its intensity.
\nAnd thus, the simpler and the purer is this Divine light in its assault
\nupon the soul, the more does it darken it, void it and annihilate it
\naccording to its particular apprehensions and affections, with regard
\nboth to things above and to things below; and similarly, the less
\nsimple and pure is it in this assault, the less deprivation it causes
\nit and the less dark is it. Now this is a thing that seems incredible,
\nto say that, the brighter and purer is supernatural and Divine light,
\nthe more it darkens the soul, and that, the less bright and pure is it,
\nthe less dark it is to the soul. Yet this may readily be understood if
\nwe consider what has been proved above by the dictum of the
\nphilosopher–namely, that the brighter and the more manifest in
\nthemselves are supernatural things the darker are they to our
\nunderstanding.<\/p>\n
3. And, to the end that this may be understood the more clearly, we
\nshall here set down a similitude referring to common and natural light.
\nWe observe that a ray of sunlight which enters through the window is
\nthe less clearly visible according as it is the purer and freer from
\nspecks, and the more of such specks and motes there are in the air, the
\nbrighter is the light to the eye. The reason is that it is not the
\nlight itself that is seen; the light is but the means whereby the other
\nthings that it strikes are seen, and then it is also seen itself,
\nthrough its reflection in them; were it not for this, neither it nor
\nthey would have been seen. Thus if the ray of sunlight entered through
\nthe window of one room and passed out through another on the other
\nside, traversing the room, and if it met nothing on the way, or if
\nthere were no specks in the air for it to strike, the room would have
\nno more light than before, neither would the ray of light be visible.
\nIn fact, if we consider it carefully, there is more darkness where the
\nray is, since it absorbs and obscures any other light, and yet it is
\nitself invisible, because, as we have said, there are no visible
\nobjects which it can strike.<\/p>\n
4. Now this is precisely what this Divine ray of contemplation does in
\nthe soul. Assailing it with its Divine light, it transcends the natural
\npower of the soul, and herein it darkens it and deprives it of all
\nnatural affections and apprehensions which it apprehended aforetime by
\nmeans of natural light; and thus it leaves it not only dark, but
\nlikewise empty, according to its faculties and desires, both spiritual
\nand natural. And, by thus leaving it empty and in darkness, it purges
\nand illumines it with Divine spiritual light, although the soul thinks
\nnot that it has this light, but believes itself to be in darkness, even
\nas we have said of the ray of light, which although it be in the midst
\nof the room, yet, if it be pure and meet nothing on its path, is not
\nvisible. With regard, however, to this spiritual light by which the
\nsoul is assailed, when it has something to strike–that is, when
\nsomething spiritual presents itself to be understood, however small a
\nspeck it be and whether of perfection or imperfection, or whether it be
\na judgment of the falsehood or the truth of a thing–it then sees and
\nunderstands much more clearly than before it was in these dark places.
\nAnd exactly in the same way it discerns the spiritual light which it
\nhas in order that it may readily discern the imperfection which is
\npresented to it; even as, when the ray of which we have spoken, within
\nthe room, is dark and not itself visible, if one introduce a hand or
\nany other thing into its path, the hand is then seen and it is realized
\nthat that sunlight is present.<\/p>\n
5. Wherefore, since this spiritual light is so simple, pure and
\ngeneral, not appropriated or restricted to any particular thing that
\ncan be understood, whether natural or Divine (since with respect to all
\nthese apprehensions the faculties of the soul are empty and
\nannihilated), it follows that with great comprehensiveness and
\nreadiness the soul discerns and penetrates whatsoever thing presents
\nitself to it, whether it come from above or from below; for which cause
\nthe Apostle said: That the spiritual man searches all things, even the
\ndeep things of God. [141] For by this general and simple wisdom is
\nunderstood that which the Holy Spirit says through the Wise Man,
\nnamely: That it reaches wheresoever it wills by reason of its purity;
\n[142] that is to say, because it is not restricted to any particular
\nobject of the intellect or affection. And this is the characteristic of
\nthe spirit that is purged and annihilated with respect to all
\nparticular affections and objects of the understanding, that in this
\nstate wherein it has pleasure in nothing and understands nothing in
\nparticular, but dwells in its emptiness, darkness and obscurity, it is
\nfully prepared to embrace everything to the end that those words of
\nSaint Paul may be fulfilled in it: Nihil habentes, et omnia
\npossidentes. [143] For such poverty of spirit as this would deserve
\nsuch happiness.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[135] Lamentations iii, 44.<\/p>\n
[136] [Lamentations iii, 9.]<\/p>\n
[137] Lamentations iii, 9.<\/p>\n
[138] Lamentations iii, 28.<\/p>\n
[139] [Lit., at the Divine things.’]<\/p>\n
[140] Psalm lxxii, 22 [A.V., lxxiii, 22].<\/p>\n
[141] 1 Corinthians ii, 10. [Lit., penetrates all things.’]<\/p>\n
[142] Wisdom vii, 24.<\/p>\n
[143] 2 Corinthians vi, 10.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER IX<\/p>\n
How, although this night brings darkness to the spirit, it does so
\nin order to illumine it and give it light.<\/p>\n
IT now remains to be said that, although this happy night brings
\ndarkness to the spirit, it does so only to give it light in everything;
\nand that, although it humbles it and makes it miserable, it does so
\nonly to exalt it and to raise it up; and, although it impoverishes it
\nand empties it of all natural affection and attachment, it does so only
\nthat it may enable it to stretch forward, divinely, and thus to have
\nfruition and experience of all things, both above and below, yet to
\npreserve its unrestricted liberty of spirit in them all. For just as
\nthe elements, in order that they may have a part in all natural
\nentities and compounds, must have no particular colour, odour or taste,
\nso as to be able to combine with all tastes odours and colours, just so
\nmust the spirit be simple, pure and detached from all kinds of natural
\naffection, whether actual or habitual, to the end that it may be able
\nfreely to share in the breadth of spirit of the Divine Wisdom, wherein,
\nthrough its purity, it has experience of all the sweetness of all
\nthings in a certain pre-eminently excellent way. [144] And without this
\npurgation it will be wholly unable to feel or experience the
\nsatisfaction of all this abundance of spiritual sweetness. For one
\nsingle affection remaining in the spirit, or one particular thing to
\nwhich, actually or habitually, it clings, suffices to hinder it from
\nfeeling or experiencing or communicating the delicacy and intimate
\nsweetness of the spirit of love, which contains within itself all
\nsweetness to a most eminent degree. [145]<\/p>\n
2. For, even as the children of Israel, solely because they retained
\none single affection and remembrance–namely, with respect to the
\nfleshpots and the meals which they had tasted in Egypt [146] –could
\nnot relish the delicate bread of angels, in the desert, which was the
\nmanna, which, as the Divine Scripture says, held sweetness for every
\ntaste and turned to the taste that each one desired; [147] even so the
\nspirit cannot succeed in enjoying the delights of the spirit of
\nliberty, according to the desire of the will, if it be still
\naffectioned to any desire, whether actual or habitual, or to particular
\nobjects of understanding, or to any other apprehension. The reason for
\nthis is that the affections, feelings and apprehensions of the perfect
\nspirit, being Divine, are of another kind and of a very different order
\nfrom those that are natural. They are pre-eminent, so that, in order
\nboth actually and habitually to possess the one, it is needful to expel
\nand annihilate the other, as with two contrary things, which cannot
\nexist together in one person. Therefore it is most fitting and
\nnecessary, if the soul is to pass to these great things, that this dark
\nnight of contemplation should first of all annihilate and undo it in
\nits meannesses, bringing it into darkness, aridity, affliction and
\nemptiness; for the light which is to be given to it is a Divine light
\nof the highest kind, which transcends all natural light, and which by
\nnature can find no place in the understanding.<\/p>\n
3. And thus it is fitting that, if the understanding is to be united
\nwith that light and become Divine in the state of perfection, it should
\nfirst of all be purged and annihilated as to its natural light, and, by
\nmeans of this dark contemplation, be brought actually into darkness.
\nThis darkness should continue for as long as is needful in order to
\nexpel and annihilate the habit which the soul has long since formed in
\nits manner of understanding, and the Divine light and illumination will
\nthen take its place. And thus, inasmuch as that power of understanding
\nwhich it had aforetime is natural, it follows that the darkness which
\nit here suffers is profound and horrible and most painful, for this
\ndarkness, being felt in the deepest substance of the spirit, seems to
\nbe substantial darkness. Similarly, since the affection of love which
\nis to be given to it in the Divine union of love is Divine, and
\ntherefore very spiritual, subtle and delicate, and very intimate,
\ntranscending every affection and feeling of the will, and every desire
\nthereof, it is fitting that, in order that the will may be able to
\nattain to this Divine affection and most lofty delight, and to feel it
\nand experience it through the union of love, since it is not, in the
\nway of nature, perceptible to the will, it be first of all purged and
\nannihilated in all its affections and feelings, and left in a condition
\nof aridity and constraint, proportionate to the habit of natural
\naffections which it had before, with respect both to Divine things and
\nto human. Thus, being exhausted, withered and thoroughly tried in the
\nfire of this dark contemplation, and having driven away every kind
\n[148] of evil spirit (as with the heart of the fish which Tobias set on
\nthe coals [149] ), it may have a simple and pure disposition, and its
\npalate may be purged and healthy, so that it may feel the rare and
\nsublime touches of Divine love, wherein it will see itself divinely
\ntransformed, and all the contrarieties, whether actual or habitual,
\nwhich it had aforetime, will be expelled, as we are saying.<\/p>\n
4. Moreover, in order to attain the said union to which this dark night
\nis disposing and leading it, the soul must be filled and endowed with a
\ncertain glorious magnificence in its communion with God, which includes
\nwithin itself innumerable blessings springing from delights which
\nexceed all the abundance that the soul can naturally possess. For by
\nnature the soul is so weak and impure that it cannot receive all this.
\nAs Isaias says: Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it
\nentered into the heart of man, that which God hath prepared, etc.’
\n[150] It is meet, then, that the soul be first of all brought into
\nemptiness and poverty of spirit and purged from all help, consolation
\nand natural apprehension with respect to all things, both above and
\nbelow. In this way, being empty, it is able indeed to be poor in spirit
\nand freed from the old man, in order to live that new and blessed life
\nwhich is attained by means of this night, and which is the state of
\nunion with God.<\/p>\n
5. And because the soul is to attain to the possession of a sense, and
\nof a Divine knowledge, which is very generous and full of sweetness,
\nwith respect to things Divine and human, which fall not within the
\ncommon experience and natural knowledge of the soul (because it looks
\non them with eyes as different from those of the past as spirit is
\ndifferent from sense and the Divine from the human), the spirit must be
\nstraitened [151] and inured to hardships as regards its common and
\nnatural experience, and be brought by means of this purgative
\ncontemplation into great anguish and affliction, and the memory must be
\nborne far from all agreeable and peaceful knowledge, and have an
\nintimated sense and feeling that it is making a pilgrimage and being a
\nstranger to all things, so that it seems to it that all things are
\nstrange and of a different kind from that which they were wont to be.
\nFor this night is gradually drawing the spirit away from its ordinary
\nand common experience of things and bringing it nearer the Divine
\nsense, which is a stranger and an alien to all human ways. It seems now
\nto the soul that it is going forth from its very self, with much
\naffliction. At other times it wonders if it is under a charm or a
\nspell, and it goes about marvelling at the things that it sees and
\nhears, which seem to it very strange and rare, though they are the same
\nthat it was accustomed to experience aforetime. The reason of this is
\nthat the soul is now becoming alien and remote from common sense and
\nknowledge of things, in order that, being annihilated in this respect,
\nit may be informed with the Divine–which belongs rather to the next
\nlife than to this.<\/p>\n
6. The soul suffers all these afflictive purgations of the spirit to
\nthe end that it may be begotten anew in spiritual life by means of this
\nDivine inflowing, and in these pangs may bring forth the spirit of
\nsalvation, that the saying of Isaias may be fulfilled: In Thy sight, O
\nLord, we have conceived, and we have been as in the pangs of labour,
\nand we have brought forth the spirit of salvation.’ [152] Moreover,
\nsince by means of this contemplative night the soul is prepared for the
\nattainment of inward peace and tranquillity, which is of such a kind
\nand so delectable that, as the Scripture says, it passes all
\nunderstanding, [153] it behoves the soul to abandon all its former
\npeace. This was in reality no peace at all, since it was involved in
\nimperfections; but to the soul aforementioned it appeared to be so,
\nbecause it was following its own inclinations, which were for peace. It
\nseemed, indeed, to be a twofold peace–that is, the soul believed that
\nit had already acquired the peace of sense and that of spirit, for it
\nfound itself to be full of the spiritual abundance of this peace of
\nsense and of spirit–as I say, it is still imperfect. First of all,
\nthen, it must be purged of that former peace and disquieted concerning
\nit and withdrawn from it. [154] Even so was Jeremias when, in the
\npassage which we quoted from him, he felt and lamented [155] thus, in
\norder to express the calamities of this night that is past, saying: My
\nsoul is withdrawn and removed from peace.’ [156]<\/p>\n
7. This is a painful disturbance, involving many misgivings,
\nimaginings, and strivings which the soul has within itself, wherein,
\nwith the apprehension and realization of the miseries in which it sees
\nitself, it fancies that it is lost and that its blessings have gone for
\never. Wherefore the spirit experiences pain and sighing so deep that
\nthey cause it vehement spiritual groans and cries, to which at times it
\ngives vocal expression; when it has the necessary strength and power it
\ndissolves into tears, although this relief comes but seldom. David
\ndescribes this very aptly, in a Psalm, as one who has had experience of
\nit, where he says: I was exceedingly afflicted and humbled; I roared
\nwith the groaning of my heart.’ [157] This roaring implies great pain;
\nfor at times, with the sudden and acute remembrance of these miseries
\nwherein the soul sees itself, pain and affliction rise up and surround
\nit, and I know not how the affections of the soul could be described
\n[158] save in the similitude of holy Job, when he was in the same
\ntrials, and uttered these words: Even as the overflowing of the waters,
\neven so is my roaring.’ [159] For just as at times the waters make such
\ninundations that they overwhelm and fill everything, so at times this
\nroaring and this affliction of the soul grow to such an extent that
\nthey overwhelm it and penetrate it completely, filling it with
\nspiritual pain and anguish in all its deep affections and energies, to
\nan extent surpassing all possibility of exaggeration.<\/p>\n
8. Such is the work wrought in the soul by this night that hides the
\nhopes of the light of day. With regard to this the prophet Job says
\nlikewise: In the night my mouth is pierced with sorrows and they that
\nfeed upon me sleep not.’ [160] Now here by the mouth is understood the
\nwill, which is transpierced with these pains that tear the soul to
\npieces, neither ceasing nor sleeping, for the doubts and misgivings
\nwhich transpierce the soul in this way never cease.<\/p>\n
9. Deep is this warfare and this striving, for the peace which the soul
\nhopes for will be very deep; and the spiritual pain is intimate and
\ndelicate, for the love which it will possess will likewise be very
\nintimate and refined. The more intimate and the more perfect the
\nfinished work is to be and to remain, the more intimate, perfect and
\npure must be the labour; the firmer the edifice, the harder the labour.
\nWherefore, as Job says, the soul is fading within itself, and its
\nvitals are being consumed without any hope. [161] Similarly, because in
\nthe state of perfection toward which it journeys by means of this
\npurgative night the soul will attain to the possession and fruition of
\ninnumerable blessings, of gifts and virtues, both according to the
\nsubstance of the soul and likewise according to its faculties, it must
\nneeds see and feel itself withdrawn from them all and deprived of them
\nall and be empty and poor without them; and it must needs believe
\nitself to be so far from them that it cannot persuade itself that it
\nwill ever reach them, but rather it must be convinced that all its good
\nthings are over. The words of Jeremias have a similar meaning in that
\npassage already quoted, where he says: I have forgotten good things.’
\n[162]<\/p>\n
10. But let us now see the reason why this light of contemplation,
\nwhich is so sweet and blessed to the soul that there is naught more
\ndesirable (for, as has been said above, it is the same wherewith the
\nsoul must be united and wherein it must find all the good things in the
\nstate of perfection that it desires), produces, when it assails the
\nsoul, these beginnings which are so painful and these effects which are
\nso disagreeable, as we have here said.<\/p>\n
1l. This question is easy for us to answer, by explaining, as we have
\nalready done in part, that the cause of this is that, in contemplation
\nand the Divine inflowing, there is naught that of itself can cause
\naffliction, but that they rather cause great sweetness and delight, as
\nwe shall say hereafter. The cause is rather the weakness and
\nimperfection from which the soul then suffers, and the dispositions
\nwhich it has in itself and which make it unfit for the reception of
\nthem. Wherefore, when the said Divine light assails the soul, it must
\nneeds cause it to suffer after the manner aforesaid.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[144] [Lit., with a certain eminence of excellence.’]<\/p>\n
[145] [Lit., . . . sweetness, with great eminence.’]<\/p>\n
[146] Exodus xvi, 3.<\/p>\n
[147] Wisdom xvi, 21.<\/p>\n
[148] [Lit., from every kind.’ But see Tobias viii, 2. The deprived’ of
\ne.p. gives the best reading of this phrase, but the general sense is
\nclear from the Scriptural reference.]<\/p>\n
[149] Tobias viii, 2.<\/p>\n
[150] Isaias lxiv, 4 [1 Corinthians ii, 9].<\/p>\n
[151] [Lit., be made thin.’]<\/p>\n
[152] Isaias xxvi, 17-18.<\/p>\n
[153] [Philippians iv, 7.]<\/p>\n
[154] [We have here split up a parenthesis of about seventy words.]<\/p>\n
[155] [Lit., and wept.’]<\/p>\n
[156] Lamentations iii, 17.<\/p>\n
[157] Psalm xxxvii, 9 [A.V., xxxviii, 8].<\/p>\n
[158] [Lit., . . . sees itself, it arises and is surrounded with pain
\nand affliction the affections of the soul, that I know not how it could
\nbe described.’ A confused, ungrammatical sentence, of which, however,
\nthe general meaning is not doubtful.]<\/p>\n
[159] Job iii, 24.<\/p>\n
[160] Job xxx, 17.<\/p>\n
[161] Job xxx, 16.<\/p>\n
[162] Lamentations iii, 17.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER X<\/p>\n
Explains this purgation fully by a comparison.<\/p>\n
FOR the greater clearness of what has been said, and of what has still
\nto be said, it is well to observe at this point that this purgative and
\nloving knowledge or Divine light whereof we here speak acts upon the
\nsoul which it is purging and preparing for perfect union with it in the
\nsame way as fire acts upon a log of wood in order to transform it into
\nitself; for material fire, acting upon wood, first of all begins to dry
\nit, by driving out its moisture and causing it to shed the water which
\nit contains within itself. Then it begins to make it black, dark and
\nunsightly, and even to give forth a bad odour, and, as it dries it
\nlittle by little, it brings out and drives away all the dark and
\nunsightly accidents which are contrary to the nature of fire. And,
\nfinally, it begins to kindle it externally and give it heat, and at
\nlast transforms it into itself and makes it as beautiful as fire. In
\nthis respect, the wood has neither passivity nor activity of its own,
\nsave for its weight, which is greater, and its substance, which is
\ndenser, than that of fire, for it has in itself the properties and
\nactivities of fire. Thus it is dry and it dries; it is hot and heats;
\nit is bright and gives brightness; and it is much less heavy than
\nbefore. All these properties and effects are caused in it by the fire.<\/p>\n
2. In this same way we have to philosophize with respect to this Divine
\nfire of contemplative love, which, before it unites and transforms the
\nsoul in itself, first purges it of all its contrary accidents. It
\ndrives out its unsightliness, and makes it black and dark, so that it
\nseems worse than before and more unsightly and abominable than it was
\nwont to be. For this Divine purgation is removing all the evil and
\nvicious humours which the soul has never perceived because they have
\nbeen so deeply rooted and grounded in it; it has never realized, in
\nfact, that it has had so much evil within itself. But now that they are
\nto be driven forth and annihilated, these humours reveal themselves,
\nand become visible to the soul because it is so brightly illumined by
\nthis dark light of Divine contemplation (although it is no worse than
\nbefore, either in itself or in relation to God); and, as it sees in
\nitself that which it saw not before, it is clear to it that not only is
\nit unfit to be seen by God, but deserves His abhorrence, and that He
\ndoes indeed abhor it. By this comparison we can now understand many
\nthings concerning what we are saying and purpose to say.<\/p>\n
3. First, we can understand how the very light and the loving wisdom
\nwhich are to be united with the soul and to transform it are the same
\nthat at the beginning purge and prepare it: even as the very fire which
\ntransforms the log of wood into itself, and makes it part of itself, is
\nthat which at the first was preparing it for that same purpose.<\/p>\n
4. Secondly, we shall be able to see how these afflictions are not felt
\nby the soul as coming from the said Wisdom, since, as the Wise Man
\nsays, all good things together come to the soul with her. [163] They
\nare felt as coming from the weakness and imperfection which belong to
\nthe soul; without such purgation, the soul cannot receive its Divine
\nlight, sweetness and delight, even as the log of wood, when the fire
\nacts upon it, cannot immediately be transformed until it be made ready;
\nwherefore the soul is greatly afflicted. This statement is fully
\nsupported by the Preacher, where he describes all that he suffered in
\norder that he might attain to union with wisdom and to the fruition of
\nit, saying thus: My soul hath wrestled with her and my bowels were
\nmoved in acquiring her; therefore it shall possess a good possession.’
\n[164]<\/p>\n
5. Thirdly, we can learn here incidentally in what manner souls are
\nafflicted in purgatory. For the fire would have no power over them,
\neven though they came into contact with it, if they had no
\nimperfections for which to suffers. These are the material upon which
\nthe fire of purgatory seizes; when that material is consumed there is
\nnaught else that can burn. So here, when the imperfections are
\nconsumed, the affliction of the soul ceases and its fruition remains.<\/p>\n
6. The fourth thing that we shall learn here is the manner wherein the
\nsoul, as it becomes purged and purified by means of this fire of love,
\nbecomes ever more enkindled in love, just as the wood grows hotter in
\nproportion as it becomes the better prepared by the fire. This
\nenkindling of love, however, is not always felt by the soul, but only
\nat times when contemplation assails it less vehemently, for then it has
\noccasion to see, and even to enjoy, the work which is being wrought in
\nit, and which is then revealed to it. For it seems that the worker
\ntakes his hand from the work, and draws the iron out of the furnace, in
\norder that something of the work which is being done may be seen; and
\nthen there is occasion for the soul to observe in itself the good which
\nit saw not while the work was going on. In the same way, when the flame
\nceases to attack the wood, it is possible to see how much of it has
\nbeen enkindled.<\/p>\n
7. Fifthly, we shall also learn from this comparison what has been said
\nabove–namely, how true it is that after each of these periods of
\nrelief the soul suffers once again, more intensely and keenly than
\nbefore. For, after that revelation just referred to has been made, and
\nafter the more outward imperfections of the soul have been purified,
\nthe fire of love once again attacks that which has yet to be consumed
\nand purified more inwardly. The suffering of the soul now becomes more
\nintimate, subtle and spiritual, in proportion as the fire refines away
\nthe finer, [165] more intimate and more spiritual imperfections, and
\nthose which are most deeply rooted in its inmost parts. And it is here
\njust as with the wood, upon which the fire, when it begins to penetrate
\nit more deeply, acts with more force and vehemence [166] in preparing
\nits most inward part to possess it.<\/p>\n
8. Sixthly, we shall likewise learn here the reason why it seems to the
\nsoul that all its good is over, and that it is full of evil, since
\nnaught comes to it at this time but bitterness; it is like the burning
\nwood, which is touched by no air nor by aught else than by consuming
\nfire. But, when there occur other periods of relief like the first, the
\nrejoicing of the soul will be more interior because the purification
\nhas been more interior also.<\/p>\n
9. Seventhly, we shall learn that, although the soul has the most ample
\njoy at these periods (so much so that, as we said, it sometimes thinks
\nthat its trials can never return again, although it is certain that
\nthey will return quickly), it cannot fail to realize, if it is aware
\n(and at times it is made aware) of a root of imperfection which
\nremains, that its joy is incomplete, because a new assault seems to be
\nthreatening it; [167] when this is so, the trial returns quickly.
\nFinally, that which still remains to be purged and enlightened most
\ninwardly cannot well be concealed from the soul in view of its
\nexperience of its former purification; [168] even as also in the wood
\nit is the most inward part that remains longest unkindled, [169] and
\nthe difference between it and that which has already been purged is
\nclearly perceptible; and, when this purification once more assails it
\nmost inwardly, it is no wonder if it seems to the soul once more that
\nall its good is gone, and that it never expects to experience it again,
\nfor, now that it has been plunged into these most inward sufferings,
\nall good coming from without is over. [170]<\/p>\n
10. Keeping this comparison, then, before our eyes, together with what
\nhas already been said upon the first line of the first stanza
\nconcerning this dark night and its terrible properties, it will be well
\nto leave these sad experiences of the soul and to begin to speak of the
\nfruit of its tears and their blessed properties, whereof the soul
\nbegins to sing from this second line:<\/p>\n
Kindled in love [171] with yearnings,
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[163] Wisdom vii, 11.<\/p>\n
[164] Ecclesiasticus li, 28-9 [A.V., li, 19-21].<\/p>\n
[165] [Lit., more delicate.’]<\/p>\n
[166] [Lit., fury.’]<\/p>\n
[167] [The sudden change of metaphor is the author’s. The assault’ is,
\nof course, the renewed growth of the root.’]<\/p>\n
[168] [Lit., . . . from the soul, with regard to that which has already
\nbeen purified.’]<\/p>\n
[169] [Lit., not enlightened’: the word is the same as that used just
\nabove.]<\/p>\n
[170] [The word translated over’ is rendered gone’ just above.]<\/p>\n
[171] [Lit., in loves’; and so throughout the exposition of this line.]
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER XI<\/p>\n
Begins to explain the second line of the first stanza.
\nDescribes how, as the fruit of these rigorous constraints, the soul
\nfinds itself with the vehement passion of Divine love.<\/p>\n
IN this line the soul describes the fire of love which, as we have
\nsaid, like the material fire acting upon the wood, begins to take hold
\nupon the soul in this night of painful contemplation. This enkindling
\nnow described, although in a certain way it resembles that which we
\ndescribed above as coming to pass in the sensual part of the soul, is
\nin some ways as different from that other as is the soul from the body,
\nor the spiritual part from the sensual. For this present kind is an
\nenkindling of spiritual love in the soul, which, in the midst of these
\ndark confines, feels itself to be keenly and sharply wounded in strong
\nDivine love, and to have a certain realization and foretaste of God,
\nalthough it understands nothing definitely, for, as we say, the
\nunderstanding is in darkness.<\/p>\n
2. The spirit feels itself here to be deeply and passionately in love,
\nfor this spiritual enkindling produces the passion of love. And,
\ninasmuch as this love is infused, it is passive rather than active, and
\nthus it begets in the soul a strong passion of love. This love has in
\nit something of union with God, and thus to some degree partakes of its
\nproperties, which are actions of God rather than of the soul, these
\nbeing subdued within it passively. What the soul does here is to give
\nits consent; the warmth and strength and temper and passion of love–or
\nenkindling, as the soul here calls it–belong [172] only to the love of
\nGod, which enters increasingly into union with it. This love finds in
\nthe soul more occasion and preparation to unite itself with it and to
\nwound it, according as all the soul’s desires are the more recollected,
\n[173] and are the more withdrawn from and disabled for the enjoyment of
\naught either in Heaven or in earth.<\/p>\n
3. This takes place to a great extent, as has already been said, in
\nthis dark purgation, for God has so weaned all the inclinations and
\ncaused them to be so recollected [174] that they cannot find pleasure
\nin anything they may wish. All this is done by God to the end that,
\nwhen He withdraws them and recollects them in Himself, the soul may
\nhave more strength and fitness to receive this strong union of love of
\nGod, which He is now beginning to give it through this purgative way,
\nwherein the soul must love with great strength and with all its desires
\nand powers both of spirit and of sense; which could not be if they were
\ndispersed in the enjoyment of aught else. For this reason David said to
\nGod, to the end that he might receive the strength of the love of this
\nunion with God: I will keep my strength for Thee;’ [175] that is, I
\nwill keep the entire capacity and all the desires and energies of my
\nfaculties, nor will I employ their operation or pleasure in aught else
\nthan Thyself.<\/p>\n
4. In this way it can be realized in some measure how great and how
\nstrong may be this enkindling of love in the spirit, wherein God keeps
\nin recollection all the energies, faculties and desires of the soul,
\nboth of spirit and of sense, so that all this harmony may employ its
\nenergies and virtues in this love, and may thus attain to a true
\nfulfilment of the first commandment, which sets aside nothing
\npertaining to man nor excludes from this love anything that is his, but
\nsays: Thou shalt love thy God with all thy heart and with all thy mind,
\nwith all thy soul and with all thy strength.’ [176]<\/p>\n
5. When all the desires and energies of the soul, then, have been
\nrecollected in this enkindling of love, and when the soul itself has
\nbeen touched and wounded in them all, and has been inspired with
\npassion, what shall we understand the movements and digressions of all
\nthese energies and desires to be, if they find themselves enkindled and
\nwounded with strong love and without the possession and satisfaction
\nthereof, in darkness and doubt? They will doubtless be suffering
\nhunger, like the dogs of which David speaks as running about the city
\n[177] ; finding no satisfaction in this love, they keep howling and
\ngroaning. For the touch of this love and Divine fire dries up the
\nspirit and enkindles its desires, in order to satisfy its thirst for
\nthis Divine love, so much so that it turns upon itself a thousand times
\nand desires God in a thousand ways and manners, with the eagerness and
\ndesire of the appetite. This is very well explained by David in a
\npsalm, where he says: My soul thirsted for Thee: in how many manners
\ndoes my soul long for Thee!’ [178] –that is, in desires. And another
\nversion reads: My soul thirsted for Thee, my soul is lost (or perishes)
\nfor Thee.’<\/p>\n
6. It is for this reason that the soul says in this line that it was
\nkindled in love with yearnings.’ [179] For in all the things and
\nthoughts that it revolves within itself, and in all the affairs and
\nmatters that present themselves to it, it loves in many ways, and also
\ndesires and suffers in the desire in many ways, at all times and in all
\nplaces, finding rest in naught, and feeling this yearning in its
\nenkindled wound, even as the prophet Job declares, saying: As the hart
\n[180] desireth the shadow, and as the hireling desireth the end of his
\nwork, so I also had vain months and numbered to myself wearisome and
\nlaborious nights. If I lie down to sleep, I shall say: ?When shall I
\narise And then I shall await the evening and shall be full of sorrows
\neven until the darkness of night.’ [181] Everything becomes cramping to
\nthis soul: it cannot live [182] within itself; it cannot live either in
\nHeaven or on earth; and it is filled with griefs until the darkness
\ncomes to which Job here refers, speaking spiritually and in the sense
\nof our interpretation. What the soul here endures is afflictions and
\nsuffering without the consolation of a certain hope of any light and
\nspiritual good. Wherefore the yearning and the grief of this soul in
\nthis enkindling of love are greater because it is multiplied in two
\nways: first, by the spiritual darkness wherein it finds itself, which
\nafflicts it with its doubts and misgivings; and then by the love of
\nGod, which enkindles and stimulates it, and, with its loving wound,
\ncauses it a wondrous fear. These two kinds of suffering at such a
\nseason are well described by Isaias, where he says: My soul desired
\nThee in the night’ [183] –that is, in misery.<\/p>\n
7. This is one kind of suffering which proceeds from this dark night;
\nbut, he goes on to say, with my spirit, in my bowels, until the
\nmorning, I will watch for Thee. And this is the second way of grieving
\nin desire and yearning which comes from love in the bowels of the
\nspirit, which are the spiritual affections. But in the midst of these
\ndark and loving afflictions the soul feels within itself a certain
\ncompanionship and strength, which bears it company and so greatly
\nstrengthens it that, if this burden of grievous darkness be taken away,
\nit often feels itself to be alone, empty and weak. The cause of this is
\nthat, as the strength and efficacy of the soul were derived and
\ncommunicated passively from the dark fire of love which assailed it, it
\nfollows that, when that fire ceases to assail it, the darkness and
\npower and heat of love cease in the soul.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[172] [Lit., cling,’ adhere.’]<\/p>\n
[173] [Lit., ‘shut up.’]<\/p>\n
[174] [Here, and below, the original has recogidos, the word normally
\ntranslated recollected’]<\/p>\n
[175] Psalm lviii, 10 [A V., lix, 9].<\/p>\n
[176] Deuteronomy vi, 5.<\/p>\n
[177] Psalm lviii, 15-16 [A.V., lix, 14-15].<\/p>\n
[178] Psalm lxii, 2 [A.V., lxiii, 1].<\/p>\n
[179] [Lit., as in the verses, in loves.’]<\/p>\n
[180] [For cievro, hart, read siervo, servant, and we have the correct
\nquotation from Scripture. The change, however, was evidently made by
\nthe Saint knowingly. In P. Gerardo’s edition, the Latin text, with
\ncervus, precedes the Spanish translation, with ciervo.]<\/p>\n
[181] Job vii, 2-4.<\/p>\n
[182] [No cabe: Lit., it cannot be contained,’ there is no room for
\nit.’]<\/p>\n
[183] Isaias xxvi, 9.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER XII<\/p>\n
Shows how this horrible night is purgatory, and how in it the Divine
\nwisdom illumines men on earth with the same illumination that purges
\nand illumines the angels in Heaven.<\/p>\n
FROM what has been said we shall be able to see how this dark night of
\nloving fire, as it purges in the darkness, so also in the darkness
\nenkindles the soul. We shall likewise be able to see that, even as
\nspirits are purged in the next life with dark material fire, so in this
\nlife they are purged and cleansed with the dark spiritual fire of love.
\nThe difference is that in the next life they are cleansed with fire,
\nwhile here below they are cleansed and illumined with love only. It was
\nthis love that David entreated, when he said: Cor mundum crea in me,
\nDeus, etc. [184] For cleanness of heart is nothing less than the love
\nand grace of God. For the clean of heart are called by our Saviour
\nblessed’; which is as if He had called them enkindled with love’, [185]
\nsince blessedness is given by nothing less than love.<\/p>\n
2. And Jeremias well shows how the soul is purged when it is illumined
\nwith this fire of loving wisdom (for God never grants mystical wisdom
\nwithout love, since love itself infuses it), where he says: He hath
\nsent fire into my bones, and hath taught me.’ [186] And David says that
\nthe wisdom of God is silver tried in fire [187] –that is, in purgative
\nfire of love. For this dark contemplation infuses into the soul love
\nand wisdom jointly, to each one according to his capacity and need,
\nenlightening the soul and purging it, in the words of the Wise Man,
\nfrom its ignorances, as he said was done to himself.<\/p>\n
3. From this we shall also infer that the very wisdom of God which
\npurges these souls and illumines them purges the angels from their
\nignorances, giving them knowledge, enlightening them as to that which
\nthey knew not, and flowing down from God through the first hierarchies
\neven to the last, and thence to men. [188] All the works, therefore,
\nwhich are done by the angels, and all their inspirations, are said in
\nthe Scriptures, with truth and propriety, to be the work of God and of
\nthemselves; for ordinarily these inspirations come through the angels,
\nand they receive them likewise one from another without any delay–as
\nquickly as a ray of sunshine is communicated through many windows
\narranged in order. For although it is true that the sun’s ray itself
\npasses through them all, still each one passes it on and infuses it
\ninto the next, in a modified form, according to the nature of the
\nglass, and with rather more or rather less power and brightness,
\naccording as it is nearer to the sun or farther from it.<\/p>\n
4. Hence it follows that, the nearer to God are the higher spirits and
\nthe lower, the more completely are they purged and enlightened with
\nmore general purification; and that the lowest of them will receive
\nthis illumination very much less powerfully and more remotely. Hence it
\nfollows that man, who is the lowest of all those to whom this loving
\ncontemplation flows down continually from God, will, when God desires
\nto give it him, receive it perforce after his own manner in a very
\nlimited way and with great pain. For, when the light of God illumines
\nan angel, it enlightens him and enkindles [189] him in love, since,
\nbeing pure spirit, he is prepared for that infusion. But, when it
\nillumines man, who is impure and weak, it illumines him, as has been
\nsaid above, according to his nature. It plunges him into darkness and
\ncauses him affliction and distress, as does the sun to the eye that is
\nweak; [190] it enkindles him with passionate yet afflictive love, until
\nhe be spiritualized and refined by this same fire of love; and it
\npurifies him until he can receive with sweetness the union of this
\nloving infusion after the manner of the angels, being now purged, as by
\nthe help of the Lord we shall explain later. But meanwhile he receives
\nthis contemplation and loving knowledge in the constraint and yearning
\nof love of which we are here speaking.<\/p>\n
5. This enkindling and yearning of love are not always perceived by the
\nsoul. For in the beginning, when this spiritual purgation commences,
\nall this Divine fire is used in drying up and making ready the wood
\n(which is the soul) rather than in giving it heat. But, as time goes
\non, the fire begins to give heat to the soul, and the soul then very
\ncommonly feels this enkindling and heat of love. Further, as the
\nunderstanding is being more and more purged by means of this darkness,
\nit sometimes comes to pass that this mystical and loving theology, as
\nwell as enkindling the will, strikes and illumines the other faculty
\nalso–that of the understanding–with a certain Divine light and
\nknowledge, so delectably and delicately that it aids the will to
\nconceive a marvellous fervour, and, without any action of its own,
\nthere burns in it this Divine fire of love, in living flames, so that
\nit now appears to the soul a living fire by reason of the living
\nunderstanding which is given to it. It is of this that David speaks in
\na Psalm, saying: My heart grew hot within me, and, as I meditated, a
\ncertain fire was enkindled.’ [191]<\/p>\n
6. This enkindling of love, which accompanies the union of these two
\nfaculties, the understanding and the will, which are here united, is
\nfor the soul a thing of great richness and delight; for it is a certain
\ntouch of the Divinity and is already the beginning [192] of the
\nperfection of the union of love for which it hopes. Now the soul
\nattains not to this touch of so sublime a sense and love of God, save
\nwhen it has passed through many trials and a great part of its
\npurgation. But for other touches which are much lower than these, and
\nwhich are of ordinary occurrence, so much purgation is not needful.<\/p>\n
7. From what we have said it may here be inferred how in these
\nspiritual blessings, which are passively infused by God into the soul,
\nthe will may very well love even though the understanding understand
\nnot; and similarly the understanding may understand and the will love
\nnot. For, since this dark night of contemplation consists of Divine
\nlight and love, just as fire contains light and heat, it is not
\nunbefitting that, when this loving light is communicated, it should
\nstrike the will at times more effectively by enkindling it with love
\nand leaving the understanding in darkness instead of striking it with
\nlight; and, at other times, by enlightening it with light, and giving
\nit understanding, but leaving the will in aridity (as it is also true
\nthat the heat of the fire can be received without the light being seen,
\nand also the light of it can be seen without the reception of heat);
\nand this is wrought by the Lord, Who infuses as He wills. [193]
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[184] Psalm l, 12 [A.V., li, 10].<\/p>\n
[185] [Lit., enamoured.’]<\/p>\n
[186] Lamentations i, 13.<\/p>\n
[187] Psalm xi, 7 [A.V., xii, 6].<\/p>\n
[188] The Schoolmen frequently assert that the lower angels are purged
\nand illumined by the higher. Cf. St. Thomas, Summa, I, q. 106, a. 1,
\nad. 1.<\/p>\n
[189] [Lit., and softens.’]<\/p>\n
[190] [More literally, is sick.’]<\/p>\n
[191] Psalm xxxviii, 4 [A.V., xxxix, 3].<\/p>\n
[192] [Lit., the beginnings.’]<\/p>\n
[193] The Saint here treats a question often debated by philosophers
\nand mystics–that of love and knowledge. Cf. also Spiritual Canticle,
\nStanza XVII, and Living Flame, Stanza III. Philosophers generally
\nmaintain that it is impossible to love without knowledge, and equally
\nso to love more of an object than what is known of it. Mystics have,
\nhowever, their own solutions of the philosophers’ difficulty and the
\nspeculative Spanish mystics have much to say on the matter. (Cf., for
\nexample, the Medula Mistica, Trat. V, Chap. iv, and the Escuela de
\nOracion, Trat. XII, Duda v.)
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER XIII<\/p>\n
Of other delectable effects which are wrought in the soul by this
\ndark night of contemplation.<\/p>\n
THIS type of enkindling will explain to us certain of the delectable
\neffects which this dark night of contemplation works in the soul. For
\nat certain times, as we have just said, the soul becomes enlightened in
\nthe midst of all this darkness, and the light shines in the darkness;
\n[194] this mystical intelligence flows down into the understanding and
\nthe will remains in dryness–I mean, without actual union of love, with
\na serenity and simplicity which are so delicate and delectable to the
\nsense of the soul that no name can be given to them. Thus the presence
\nof God is felt, now after one manner, now after another.<\/p>\n
2. Sometimes, too, as has been said, it wounds the will at the same
\ntime, and enkindles love sublimely, tenderly and strongly; for we have
\nalready said that at certain times these two faculties, the
\nunderstanding and the will, are united, when, the more they see, the
\nmore perfect and delicate is the purgation of the understanding. But,
\nbefore this state is reached, it is more usual for the touch of the
\nenkindling of love to be felt in the will than for the touch of
\nintelligence to be felt in the understanding.<\/p>\n
3. But one question arises here, which is this: Why, since these two
\nfaculties are being purged together, are the enkindling and the love of
\npurgative contemplation at first more commonly felt in the will than
\nthe intelligence thereof is felt in the understanding? To this it may
\nbe answered that this passive love does not now directly strike the
\nwill, for the will is free, and this enkindling of love is a passion of
\nlove rather than the free act of the will; for this heat of love
\nstrikes the substance of the soul and thus moves the affections
\npassively. And so this is called passion of love rather than a free act
\nof the will, an act of the will being so called only in so far as it is
\nfree. But these passions and affections subdue the will, and therefore
\nit is said that, if the soul conceives passion with a certain
\naffection, the will conceives passion; and this is indeed so, for in
\nthis manner the will is taken captive and loses its liberty, according
\nas the impetus and power of its passion carry it away. And therefore we
\ncan say that this enkindling of love is in the will–that is, it
\nenkindles the desire of the will; and thus, as we say, this is called
\npassion of love rather than the free work of the will. And, because the
\nreceptive passion of the understanding can receive intelligence only in
\na detached and passive way (and this is impossible without its having
\nbeen purged), therefore until this happens the soul feels the touch of
\nintelligence less frequently than that of the passion of love. For it
\nis not necessary to this end that the will should be so completely
\npurged with respect to the passions, since these very passions help it
\nto feel impassioned love.<\/p>\n
4. This enkindling and thirst of love, which in this case belongs to
\nthe spirit, is very different from that other which we described in
\nwriting of the night of sense. For, though the sense has also its part
\nhere, since it fails not to participate in the labour of the spirit,
\nyet the source and the keenness of the thirst of love is felt in the
\nsuperior part of the soul–that is, in the spirit. It feels, and
\nunderstands what it feels and its lack of what it desires, in such a
\nway that all its affliction of sense, although greater without
\ncomparison than in the first night of sense, is as naught to it,
\nbecause it recognizes within itself the lack of a great good which can
\nin no way be measured.<\/p>\n
5. But here we must note that although, at the beginning, when this
\nspiritual night commences, this enkindling of love is not felt, because
\nthis fire of love has not begun to take a hold, God gives the soul, in
\nplace of it, an estimative love of Himself so great that, as we have
\nsaid, the greatest sufferings and trials of which it is conscious in
\nthis night are the anguished thoughts that it [195] has lost God and
\nthe fears that He has abandoned it. And thus we may always say that
\nfrom the very beginning of this night the soul is touched with
\nyearnings of love, which is now that of estimation, [196] and now
\nagain, that of enkindling. And it is evident that the greatest
\nsuffering which it feels in these trials is this misgiving; for, if it
\ncould be certified at that time that all is not lost and over, but that
\nwhat is happening to it is for the best–as it is–and that God is not
\nwroth, it would care naught for all these afflictions, but would
\nrejoice to know that God is making use of them for His good pleasure.
\nFor the love of estimation which it has for God is so great, even
\nthough it may not realize this and may be in darkness, that it would be
\nglad, not only to suffer in this way, but even to die many times over
\nin order to give Him satisfaction. But when once the flame has
\nenkindled the soul, it is wont to conceive, together with the
\nestimation that it already has for God, such power and energy, and such
\nyearning for Him, when He communicates to it the heat of love, that,
\nwith great boldness, it disregards everything and ceases to pay respect
\nto anything, such are the power and the inebriation of love and desire.
\nIt regards not what it does, for it would do strange and unusual things
\nin whatever way and manner may present themselves, if thereby its soul
\nmight find Him Whom it loves.<\/p>\n
6. It was for this reason that Mary Magdalene, though as greatly
\nconcerned for her own appearance as she was aforetime, took no heed of
\nthe multitude of men who were at the feast, whether they were of little
\nor of great importance; neither did she consider that it was not
\nseemly, and that it looked ill, to go and weep and shed tears among the
\nguests provided that, without delaying an hour or waiting for another
\ntime and season, she could reach Him for love of Whom her soul was
\nalready wounded and enkindled. And such is the inebriating power and
\nthe boldness of love, that, though she knew her Beloved to be enclosed
\nin the sepulchre by the great sealed stone, and surrounded by soldiers
\nwho were guarding Him lest His disciples should steal Him away, [197]
\nshe allowed none of these things to impede her, but went before
\ndaybreak with the ointments to anoint Him.<\/p>\n
7. And finally, this inebriating power and yearning of love caused her
\nto ask one whom she believed to be a gardener and to have stolen Him
\naway from the sepulchre, to tell her, if he had taken Him, where he had
\nlaid Him, that she might take Him away; [198] considering not that such
\na question, according to independent judgment and reason, was foolish;
\nfor it was evident that, if the other had stolen Him, he would not say
\nso, still less would he allow Him to be taken away. It is a
\ncharacteristic of the power and vehemence of love that all things seem
\npossible to it, and it believes all men to be of the same mind as
\nitself. For it thinks that there is naught wherein one may be employed,
\nor which one may seek, save that which it seeks itself and that which
\nit loves; and it believes that there is naught else to be desired, and
\nnaught wherein it may be employed, save that one thing, which is
\npursued by all. For this reason, when the Bride went out to seek her
\nBeloved, through streets and squares, [199] thinking that all others
\nwere doing the same, she begged them that, if they found Him, they
\nwould speak to Him and say that she was pining for love of Him. [200]
\nSuch was the power of the love of this Mary that she thought that, if
\nthe gardener would tell her where he had hidden Him, she would go and
\ntake Him away, however difficult it might be made for her.<\/p>\n
8. Of this manner, then, are the yearnings of love whereof this soul
\nbecomes conscious when it has made some progress in this spiritual
\npurgation. For it rises up by night (that is, in this purgative
\ndarkness) according to the affections of the will. And with the
\nyearnings and vehemence of the lioness or the she-bear going to seek
\nher cubs when they have been taken away from her and she finds them
\nnot, does this wounded soul go forth to seek its God. For, being in
\ndarkness, it feels itself to be without Him and to be dying of love for
\nHim. And this is that impatient love wherein the soul cannot long
\nsubsist without gaining its desire or dying. Such was Rachel’s desire
\nfor children when she said to Jacob: Give me children, else shall I
\ndie.’ [201]<\/p>\n
9. But we have now to see how it is that the soul which feels itself so
\nmiserable and so unworthy of God, here in this purgative darkness, has
\nnevertheless strength, and is sufficiently bold and daring, to journey
\ntowards union with God. The reason is that, as love continually gives
\nit strength wherewith it may love indeed, and as the property of love
\nis to desire to be united, joined and made equal and like to the object
\nof its love, that it may perfect itself in love’s good things, hence it
\ncomes to pass that, when this soul is not perfected in love, through
\nnot having as yet attained to union, the hunger and thirst that it has
\nfor that which it lacks (which is union) and the strength set by love
\nin the will which has caused it to become impassioned, make it bold and
\ndaring by reason of the enkindling of its will, although in its
\nunderstanding, which is still dark and unenlightened, it feels itself
\nto be unworthy and knows itself to be miserable.<\/p>\n
10. I will not here omit to mention the reason why this Divine light,
\nwhich is always light to the soul, illumines it not as soon as it
\nstrikes it, as it does afterwards, but causes it the darkness and the
\ntrials of which we have spoken. Something has already been said
\nconcerning this, but the question must now be answered directly. The
\ndarkness and the other evils of which the soul is conscious when this
\nDivine light strikes it are not darkness or evils caused by this light,
\nbut pertain to the soul itself, and the light illumines it so that it
\nmay see them. Wherefore it does indeed receive light from this Divine
\nlight; but the soul cannot see at first, by its aid, anything beyond
\nwhat is nearest to it, or rather, beyond what is within it–namely, its
\ndarknesses or its miseries, which it now sees through the mercy of God,
\nand saw not aforetime, because this supernatural light illumined it
\nnot. And this is the reason why at first it is conscious of nothing
\nbeyond darkness and evil; after it has been purged, however, by means
\nof the knowledge and realization of these, it will have eyes to see, by
\nthe guidance of this light, the blessings of the Divine light; and,
\nonce all these darknesses and imperfections have been driven out from
\nthe soul, it seems that the benefits and the great blessings which the
\nsoul is gaining in this blessed night of contemplation become clearer.<\/p>\n
11. From what has been said, it is clear that God grants the soul in
\nthis state the favour of purging it and healing it with this strong lye
\nof bitter purgation, according to its spiritual and its sensual part,
\nof all the imperfect habits and affections which it had within itself
\nwith respect to temporal things and to natural, sensual and spiritual
\nthings, its inward faculties being darkened, and voided of all these,
\nits spiritual and sensual affections being constrained and dried up,
\nand its natural energies being attenuated and weakened with respect to
\nall this (a condition which it could never attain of itself, as we
\nshall shortly say). In this way God makes it to die to all that is not
\nnaturally God, so that, once it is stripped and denuded of its former
\nskin, He may begin to clothe it anew. And thus its youth is renewed
\nlike the eagle’s and it is clothed with the new man, which, as the
\nApostle says, is created according to God. [202] This is naught else
\nbut His illumination of the understanding with supernatural light, so
\nthat it is no more a human understanding but becomes Divine through
\nunion with the Divine. In the same way the will is informed with Divine
\nlove, so that it is a will that is now no less than Divine, nor does it
\nlove otherwise than divinely, for it is made and united in one with the
\nDivine will and love. So, too, is it with the memory; and likewise the
\naffections and desires are all changed and converted divinely,
\naccording to God. And thus this soul will now be a soul of heaven,
\nheavenly, and more Divine than human. All this, as we have been saying,
\nand because of what we have said, God continues to do and to work in
\nthe soul by means of this night, illumining and enkindling it divinely
\nwith yearnings for God alone and for naught else whatsoever. For which
\ncause the soul then very justly and reasonably adds the third line to
\nthe song, which says:<\/p>\n
. . . oh, happy chance!– I went forth without being observed.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[194] St. John i, 5.<\/p>\n
[195] [Lit., the yearning to think of it.’]<\/p>\n
[196] [The word translated estimation’ might also be rendered ‘
\nreverent love.’ The love of estimation,’ which has its seat in the
\nunderstanding, is contrasted with the enkindling’ or the love of
\ndesire,’ which has its seat in the will. So elsewhere in this
\nparagraph.]<\/p>\n
[197] St. John xx, 1 [St. Matthew xxvii, 62-6].<\/p>\n
[198] St. John xx, 15.<\/p>\n
[199] [Lit., outskirts,’ ‘suburbs.’]<\/p>\n
[200] Canticles v, 8.<\/p>\n
[201] Genesis xxx, 1.<\/p>\n
[202] Ephesians iv, 4.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER XIV<\/p>\n
Wherein are set down and explained the last three lines of the first
\nstanza.<\/p>\n
THIS happy chance was the reason for which the soul speaks, in the next
\nlines, as follows:<\/p>\n
I went forth without being observed, My house being now at rest.<\/p>\n
It takes the metaphor from one who, in order the better to accomplish
\nsomething, leaves his house by night and in the dark, when those that
\nare in the house are now at rest, so that none may hinder him. For this
\nsoul had to go forth to perform a deed so heroic and so rare–namely to
\nbecome united with its Divine Beloved–and it had to leave its house,
\nbecause the Beloved is not found save alone and without, in solitude.
\nIt was for this reason that the Bride desired to find Him alone,
\nsaying: ‘ Who would give Thee to me, my brother, that I might find Thee
\nalone, without, and that my love might be communicated to Thee.’ [203]
\nIt is needful for the enamoured soul, in order to attain to its desired
\nend, to do likewise, going forth at night, when all the domestics in
\nits house are sleeping and at rest–that is, when the low operations,
\npassions and desires of the soul (who are the people of the household)
\nare, because it is night, sleeping and at rest. When these are awake,
\nthey invariably hinder the soul from seeking its good, since they are
\nopposed to its going forth in freedom. These are they of whom Our
\nSaviour speaks in the Gospel, saying that they are the enemies of man.
\n[204] And thus it would be meet that their operations and motions
\nshould be put to sleep in this night, to the end that they may not
\nhinder the soul from attaining the supernatural blessings of the union
\nof love of God, for, while these are alive and active, this cannot be.
\nFor all their work and their natural motions hinder, rather than aid,
\nthe soul’s reception of the spiritual blessings of the union of love,
\ninasmuch as all natural ability is impotent with respect to the
\nsupernatural blessings that God, by means of His own infusion, bestows
\nupon the soul passively, secretly and in silence. And thus it is
\nneedful that all the faculties should receive this infusion, and that,
\nin order to receive it, they should remain passive, and not interpose
\ntheir own base acts and vile inclinations.<\/p>\n
2. It was a happy chance for this soul that on this night God should
\nput to sleep all the domestics in its house–that is, all the
\nfaculties, passions, affections and desires which live in the soul,
\nboth sensually and spiritually. For thus it went forth without being
\nobserved’–that is, without being hindered by these affections, etc.,
\nfor they were put to sleep and mortified in this night, in the darkness
\nof which they were left, that they might not notice or feel anything
\nafter their own low and natural manner, and might thus be unable to
\nhinder the soul from going forth from itself and from the house of its
\nsensuality. And thus only could the soul attain to the spiritual union
\nof perfect love of God.<\/p>\n
3. Oh, how happy a chance is this for the soul which can free itself
\nfrom the house of its sensuality! None can understand it, unless, as it
\nseems to me, it be the soul that has experienced it. For such a soul
\nwill see clearly how wretched was the servitude in which it lay and to
\nhow many miseries it was subject when it was at the mercy of its
\nfaculties and desires, and will know how the life of the spirit is true
\nliberty and wealth, bringing with it inestimable blessings. Some of
\nthese we shall point out, as we proceed, in the following stanzas,
\nwherein it will be seen more clearly what good reason the soul has to
\nsing of the happy chance of its passage from this dreadful night which
\nhas been described above.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[203] Canticles viii, 1.<\/p>\n
[204] St. Matthew x, 36.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER XV<\/p>\n
Sets down the second stanza and its exposition.<\/p>\n
In darkness and secure, By the secret ladder, disguised–oh, happy
\nchance!
\nIn darkness and concealment, My house being now at rest.<\/p>\n
IN this stanza the soul still continues to sing of certain properties
\nof the darkness of this night, reiterating how great is the happiness
\nwhich came to it through them. It speaks of them in replying to a
\ncertain tacit objection, saying that it is not to be supposed that,
\nbecause in this night and darkness it has passed through so many
\ntempests of afflictions, doubts, fears and horrors, as has been said,
\nit has for that reason run any risk of being lost. On the contrary, it
\nsays, in the darkness of this night it has gained itself. For in the
\nnight it has freed itself and escaped subtly from its enemies, who were
\ncontinually hindering its progress. For in the darkness of the night it
\nchanged its garments and disguised itself with three liveries and
\ncolours which we shall describe hereafter; and went forth by a very
\nsecret ladder, which none in the house knew, the which ladder, as we
\nshall observe likewise in the proper place, is living faith. By this
\nladder the soul went forth in such complete hiding and concealment, in
\norder the better to execute its purpose, that it could not fail to be
\nin great security; above all since in this purgative night the desires,
\naffections and passions of the soul are put to sleep, mortified and
\nquenched, which are they that, when they were awake and alive,
\nconsented not to this.<\/p>\n
The first line, then, runs thus: [205]<\/p>\n
In darkness and secure.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[205] [Lit., The line, then, continues, and says thus.’ In fact,
\nhowever, the author is returning to the first line of the stanza.]
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER XVI<\/p>\n
Explains how, though in darkness, the soul walks securely.<\/p>\n
THE darkness which the soul here describes relates, as we have said, to
\nthe desires and faculties, sensual, interior and spiritual, for all
\nthese are darkened in this night as to their natural light, so that,
\nbeing purged in this respect, they may be illumined with respect to the
\nsupernatural. For the spiritual and the sensual desires are put to
\nsleep and mortified, so that they can experience [206] nothing, either
\nDivine or human; the affections of the soul are oppressed and
\nconstrained, so that they can neither move nor find support in
\nanything; the imagination is bound and can make no useful reflection;
\nthe memory is gone; the understanding is in darkness, unable to
\nunderstand anything; and hence the will likewise is arid and
\nconstrained and all the faculties are void and useless; and in addition
\nto all this a thick and heavy cloud is upon the soul, keeping it in
\naffliction, and, as it were, far away from God. [207] It is in this
\nkind of darkness’ that the soul says here it travelled ‘securely.’<\/p>\n
2. The reason for this has been clearly expounded; for ordinarily the
\nsoul never strays save through its desires or its tastes or its
\nreflections or its understanding or its affections; for as a rule it
\nhas too much or too little of these, or they vary or go astray, and
\nhence the soul becomes inclined to that which behoves it not.
\nWherefore, when all these operations and motions are hindered, it is
\nclear that the soul is secure against being led astray by them; for it
\nis free, not only from itself, but likewise from its other enemies,
\nwhich are the world and the devil. For when the affections and
\noperations of the soul are quenched, these enemies cannot make war upon
\nit by any other means or in any other manner.<\/p>\n
3. It follows from this that, the greater is the darkness wherein the
\nsoul journeys and the more completely is it voided of its natural
\noperations, the greater is its security. For, as the Prophet says,
\n[208] perdition comes to the soul from itself alone–that is, from its
\nsensual and interior desires and operations; and good, says God, comes
\nfrom Me alone. Wherefore, when it is thus hindered from following the
\nthings that lead it into evil, there will then come to it forthwith the
\nblessings of union with God in its desires and faculties, which in that
\nunion He will make Divine and celestial. Hence, at the time of this
\ndarkness, if the soul considers the matter, it will see very clearly
\nhow little its desire and its faculties are being diverted to things
\nthat are useless and harmful; and how secure it is from vainglory and
\npride and presumption, vain and false rejoicing and many other things.
\nIt follows clearly, then, that, by walking in darkness, not only is the
\nsoul not lost, but it has even greatly gained, since it is here gaining
\nthe virtues.<\/p>\n
4. But there is a question which at once arises here–namely, since the
\nthings of God are of themselves profitable to the soul and bring it
\ngain and security, why does God, in this night, darken the desires and
\nfaculties with respect to these good things likewise, in such a way
\nthat the soul can no more taste of them or busy itself with them than
\nwith these other things, and indeed in some ways can do so less? The
\nanswer is that it is well for the soul to perform no operation touching
\nspiritual things at that time and to have no pleasure in such things,
\nbecause its faculties and desires are base, impure and wholly natural;
\nand thus, although these faculties be given the desire and interest in
\nthings supernatural and Divine, they could not receive them save after
\na base and a natural manner, exactly in their own fashion. For, as the
\nphilosopher says, whatsoever is received comes to him that receives it
\nafter the manner of the recipient. Wherefore, since these natural
\nfaculties have neither purity nor strength nor capacity to receive and
\ntaste things that are supernatural after the manner of those things,
\nwhich manner is Divine, but can do so only after their own manner,
\nwhich is human and base, as we have said, it is meet that its faculties
\nbe in darkness concerning these Divine things likewise. Thus, being
\nweaned and purged and annihilated in this respect first of all, they
\nmay lose that base and human way of receiving and acting, and thus all
\nthese faculties and desires of the soul may come to be prepared and
\ntempered in such a way as to be able to receive, feel and taste that
\nwhich is Divine and supernatural after a sublime and lofty manner,
\nwhich is impossible if the old man die not first of all.<\/p>\n
5. Hence it follows that all spiritual things, if they come not from
\nabove and be not communicated by the Father of lights to human desire
\nand free will (howsoever much a man may exercise his taste and
\nfaculties for God, and howsoever much it may seem to the faculties that
\nthey are experiencing these things), will not be experienced after a
\nDivine and spiritual manner, but after a human and natural manner, just
\nas other things are experienced, for spiritual blessings go not from
\nman to God, but come from God to man. With respect to this (if this
\nwere the proper place for it) we might here explain how there are many
\npersons whose many tastes and affections and the operations of whose
\nfaculties are fixed upon God or upon spiritual things, and who may
\nperhaps think that this is supernatural and spiritual, when it is
\nperhaps no more than the most human and natural desires and actions.
\nThey regard these good things with the same disposition as they have
\nfor other things, by means of a certain natural facility which they
\npossess for directing their desires and faculties to anything whatever.<\/p>\n
6. If perchance we find occasion elsewhere in this book, we shall treat
\nof this, describing certain signs which indicate when the interior
\nactions and motions of the soul, with respect to communion with God,
\nare only natural, when they are spiritual, and when they are both
\nnatural and spiritual. It suffices for us here to know that, in order
\nthat the interior motions and acts of the soul may come to be moved by
\nGod divinely, they must first be darkened and put to sleep and hushed
\nto rest naturally as touching all their capacity and operation, until
\nthey have no more strength.<\/p>\n
7. Therefore, O spiritual soul, when thou seest thy desire obscured,
\nthy affections arid and constrained, and thy faculties bereft of their
\ncapacity for any interior exercise, be not afflicted by this, but
\nrather consider it a great happiness, since God is freeing thee from
\nthyself and taking the matter from thy hands. For with those hands,
\nhowsoever well they may serve thee, thou wouldst never labour so
\neffectively, so perfectly and so securely (because of their clumsiness
\nand uncleanness) as now, when God takes thy hand and guides thee in the
\ndarkness, as though thou wert blind, to an end and by a way which thou
\nknowest not. Nor couldst thou ever hope to travel with the aid of thine
\nown eyes and feet, howsoever good thou be as a walker.<\/p>\n
8. The reason, again, why the soul not only travels securely, when it
\ntravels thus in the darkness, but also achieves even greater gain and
\nprogress, is that usually, when the soul is receiving fresh advantage
\nand profit, this comes by a way that it least understands–indeed, it
\nquite commonly believes that it is losing ground. For, as it has never
\nexperienced that new feeling which drives it forth and dazzles it and
\nmakes it depart recklessly from its former way of life, it thinks
\nitself to be losing ground rather than gaining and progressing, since
\nit sees that it is losing with respect to that which it knew and
\nenjoyed, and is going by a way which it knows not and wherein it finds
\nno enjoyment. It is like the traveller, who, in order to go to new and
\nunknown lands, takes new roads, unknown and untried, and journeys
\nunguided by his past experience, but doubtingly and according to what
\nothers say. It is clear that such a man could not reach new countries,
\nor add to his past experience, if he went not along new and unknown
\nroads and abandoned those which were known to him. Exactly so, one who
\nis learning fresh details concerning any office or art always proceeds
\nin darkness, and receives no guidance from his original knowledge, for
\nif he left not that behind he would get no farther nor make any
\nprogress; and in the same way, when the soul is making most progress,
\nit is travelling in darkness, knowing naught. Wherefore, since God, as
\nwe have said, is the Master and Guide of this blind soul, it may well
\nand truly rejoice, once it has learned to understand this, and say: In
\ndarkness and secure.’<\/p>\n
9. There is another reason why the soul has walked securely in this
\ndarkness, and this is because it has been suffering; for the road of
\nsuffering is more secure and even more profitable than that of fruition
\nand action: first, because in suffering the strength of God is added to
\nthat of man, while in action and fruition the soul is practising its
\nown weaknesses and imperfections; and second, because in suffering the
\nsoul continues to practise and acquire the virtues and become purer,
\nwiser and more cautious.<\/p>\n
10. But there is another and a more important reason why the soul now
\nwalks in darkness and securely; this emanates from the dark light or
\nwisdom aforementioned. For in such a way does this dark night of
\ncontemplation absorb and immerse the soul in itself, and so near does
\nit bring the soul to God, that it protects and delivers it from all
\nthat is not God. For this soul is now, as it were, undergoing a cure,
\nin order that it may regain its health–its health being God Himself.
\nHis Majesty restricts it to a diet and abstinence from all things, and
\ntakes away its appetite for them all. It is like a sick man, who, if he
\nis respected by those in his house, is carefully tended so that he may
\nbe cured; the air is not allowed to touch him, nor may he even enjoy
\nthe light, nor must he hear footsteps, nor yet the noise of those in
\nthe house; and he is given food that is very delicate, and even that
\nonly in great moderation–food that is nourishing rather than
\ndelectable.<\/p>\n
11. All these particularities (which are for the security and
\nsafekeeping of the soul) are caused by this dark contemplation, because
\nit brings the soul nearer to God. For the nearer the soul approaches
\nHim, the blacker is the darkness which it feels and the deeper is the
\nobscurity which comes through its weakness; just as, the nearer a man
\napproaches the sun, the greater are the darkness and the affliction
\ncaused him through the great splendour of the sun and through the
\nweakness and impurity of his eyes. In the same way, so immense is the
\nspiritual light of God, and so greatly does it transcend our natural
\nunderstanding, that the nearer we approach it, the more it blinds and
\ndarkens us. And this is the reason why, in Psalm xvii, David says that
\nGod made darkness His hiding-place and covering, and His tabernacle
\naround Him dark water in the clouds of the air. [209] This dark water
\nin the clouds of the air is dark contemplation and Divine wisdom in
\nsouls, as we are saying. They continue to feel it is a thing which is
\nnear Him, as the tabernacle wherein He dwells, when God brings them
\never nearer to Himself. And thus, that which in God is supreme light
\nand refulgence is to man blackest darkness, as Saint Paul says,
\naccording as David explains in the same Psalm, saying: Because of the
\nbrightness which is in His presence, passed clouds and cataracts’ [210]
\n–that is to say, over the natural understanding, the light whereof, as
\nIsaias says in Chapter V: Obtenebrata est in caligine ejus. [211]<\/p>\n
12. Oh, miserable is the fortune of our life, which is lived in such
\ngreat peril and wherein it is so difficult to find the truth. For that
\nwhich is most clear and true is to us most dark and doubtful;
\nwherefore, though it is the thing that is most needful for us, we flee
\nfrom it. And that which gives the greatest light and satisfaction to
\nour eyes we embrace and pursue, though it be the worst thing for us,
\nand make us fall at every step. In what peril and fear does man live,
\nsince the very natural light of his eyes by which he has to guide
\nhimself is the first light that dazzles him and leads him astray on his
\nroad to God! And if he is to know with certainty by what road he
\ntravels, he must perforce keep his eyes closed and walk in darkness,
\nthat he may be secure from the enemies who inhabit his own house–that
\nis, his senses and faculties.<\/p>\n
13. Well hidden, then, and well protected is the soul in these dark
\nwaters, when it is close to God. For, as these waters serve as a
\ntabernacle and dwelling-place for God Himself, they will serve the soul
\nin the same way and for a perfect protection and security, though it
\nremain in darkness, wherein, as we have said, it is hidden and
\nprotected from itself, and from all evils that come from creatures; for
\nto such the words of David refer in another Psalm, where he says: Thou
\nshalt hide them in the hiding-place of Thy face from the disturbance of
\nmen; Thou shalt protect them in Thy tabernacle from the contradiction
\nof tongues.’ [212] Herein we understand all kinds of protection; for to
\nbe hidden in the face of God from the disturbance of men is to be
\nfortified with this dark contemplation against all the chances which
\nmay come upon the soul from men. And to be protected in His tabernacle
\nfrom the contradiction of tongues is for the soul to be engulfed in
\nthese dark waters, which are the tabernacle of David whereof we have
\nspoken. Wherefore, since the soul has all its desires and affections
\nweaned and its faculties set in darkness, it is free from all
\nimperfections which contradict the spirit, whether they come from its
\nown flesh or from other creatures. Wherefore this soul may well say
\nthat it journeys in darkness and secure.’<\/p>\n
14. There is likewise another reason, which is no less effectual than
\nthe last, by which we may understand how the soul journeys securely in
\ndarkness; it is derived from the fortitude by which the soul is at once
\ninspired in these obscure and afflictive dark waters of God. For after
\nall, though the waters be dark, they are none the less waters, and
\ntherefore they cannot but refresh and fortify the soul in that which is
\nmost needful for it, although in darkness and with affliction. For the
\nsoul immediately perceives in itself a genuine determination and an
\neffectual desire to do naught which it understands to be an offence to
\nGod, and to omit to do naught that seems to be for His service. For
\nthat dark love cleaves to the soul, causing it a most watchful care and
\nan inward solicitude concerning that which it must do, or must not do,
\nfor His sake, in order to please Him. It will consider and ask itself a
\nthousand times if it has given Him cause to be offended; and all this
\nit will do with much greater care and solicitude than before, as has
\nalready been said with respect to the yearnings of love. For here all
\nthe desires and energies and faculties of the soul are recollected from
\nall things else, and its effort and strength are employed in pleasing
\nits God alone. After this manner the soul goes forth from itself and
\nfrom all created things to the sweet and delectable union of love of
\nGod, In darkness and secure.’<\/p>\n
By the secret ladder, disguised.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[206] [Lit., taste.’]<\/p>\n
[207] Some have considered this description exaggerated, but it must be
\nborne in mind that all souls are not tested alike and the Saint is
\nwriting of those whom God has willed to raise to such sanctity that
\nthey drain the cup of bitterness to the dregs. We have already seen
\n(Bk. I, chap. xiv, sect. 5) that all do not experience (this) after one
\nmanner . . . for (it) is meted out by the will of God, in conformity
\nwith the greater or the smaller degree of imperfection which each soul
\nhas to purge away, (and) in conformity, likewise, with the degree of
\nlove of union to which God is pleased to raise it’ (Bk. I, chap xiv,
\nabove).<\/p>\n
[208] Osee xiii, 9.<\/p>\n
[209] Psalm xvii, 12 [A.V., xviii, 11].<\/p>\n
[210] Psalm xvii, 13 [A.V., xviii, 12].<\/p>\n
[211] Isaias v, 30.<\/p>\n
[212] Psalm xxx, 21 [A.V., xxxi, 20].
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER XVII<\/p>\n
Explains how this dark contemplation is secret.<\/p>\n
THREE things have to be expounded with reference to three words
\ncontained in this present line. Two (namely, ‘secret’ and ladder’)
\nbelong to the dark night of contemplation of which we are treating; the
\nthird (namely, disguised’) belongs to the soul by reason of the manner
\nwherein it conducts itself in this night. As to the first, it must be
\nknown that in this line the soul describes this dark contemplation, by
\nwhich it goes forth to the union of love, as a secret ladder, because
\nof the two properties which belong to it–namely, its being secret and
\nits being a ladder. We shall treat of each separately.<\/p>\n
2. First, it describes this dark contemplation as ‘secret,’ since, as
\nwe have indicated above, it is mystical theology, which theologians
\ncall secret wisdom, and which, as Saint Thomas says is communicated and
\ninfused into the soul through love. [213] This happens secretly and in
\ndarkness, so as to be hidden from the work of the understanding and of
\nother faculties. Wherefore, inasmuch as the faculties aforementioned
\nattain not to it, but the Holy Spirit infuses and orders it in the
\nsoul, as says the Bride in the Songs, without either its knowledge or
\nits understanding, it is called secret. And, in truth, not only does
\nthe soul not understand it, but there is none that does so, not even
\nthe devil; inasmuch as the Master Who teaches the soul is within it in
\nits substance, to which the devil may not attain, neither may natural
\nsense nor understanding.<\/p>\n
3. And it is not for this reason alone that it may be called secret,
\nbut likewise because of the effects which it produces in the soul. For
\nit is secret not only in the darknesses and afflictions of purgation,
\nwhen this wisdom of love purges the soul, and the soul is unable to
\nspeak of it, but equally so afterwards in illumination, when this
\nwisdom is communicated to it most clearly. Even then it is still so
\nsecret that the soul cannot speak of it and give it a name whereby it
\nmay be called; for, apart from the fact that the soul has no desire to
\nspeak of it, it can find no suitable way or manner or similitude by
\nwhich it may be able to describe such lofty understanding and such
\ndelicate spiritual feeling. And thus, even though the soul might have a
\ngreat desire to express it and might find many ways in which to
\ndescribe it, it would still be secret and remain undescribed. For, as
\nthat inward wisdom is so simple, so general and so spiritual that it
\nhas not entered into the understanding enwrapped or cloaked in any form
\nor image subject to sense, it follows that sense and imagination (as it
\nhas not entered through them nor has taken their form and colour)
\ncannot account for it or imagine it, so as to say anything concerning
\nit, although the soul be clearly aware that it is experiencing and
\npartaking of that rare and delectable wisdom. It is like one who sees
\nsomething never seen before, whereof he has not even seen the like;
\nalthough he might understand its nature and have experience of it, he
\nwould be unable to give it a name, or say what it is, however much he
\ntried to do so, and this in spite of its being a thing which he had
\nperceived with the senses. How much less, then, could he describe a
\nthing that has not entered through the senses! For the language of God
\nhas this characteristic that, since it is very intimate and spiritual
\nin its relations with the soul, it transcends every sense and at once
\nmakes all harmony and capacity of the outward and inward senses to
\ncease and be dumb.<\/p>\n
4. For this we have both authorities and examples in the Divine
\nScripture. For the incapacity of man to speak of it and describe it in
\nwords was shown by Jeremias, [214] when, after God had spoken with him,
\nhe knew not what to say, save Ah, ah, ah!’ This interior
\nincapacity–that is, of the interior sense of the imagination–and also
\nthat of the exterior sense corresponding to it was also demonstrated in
\nthe case of Moses, when he stood before God in the bush; [215] not only
\ndid he say to God that after speaking with Him he knew not neither was
\nable to speak, but also that not even (as is said in the Acts of the
\nApostles) [216] with the interior imagination did he dare to meditate,
\nfor it seemed to him that his imagination was very far away and was too
\ndumb, not only to express any part of that which he understood
\nconcerning God, but even to have the capacity to receive aught
\ntherefrom. Wherefore, inasmuch as the wisdom of this contemplation is
\nthe language of God to the soul, addressed by pure spirit to pure
\nspirit, naught that is less than spirit, such as the senses, can
\nperceive it, and thus to them it is secret, and they know it not,
\nneither can they say it, [217] nor do they desire to do so, because
\nthey see it not.<\/p>\n
5. We may deduce from this the reason why certain persons–good and
\nfearful souls–who walk along this road and would like to give an
\naccount of their spiritual state to their director, [218] are neither
\nable to do so nor know how. For the reason we have described, they have
\na great repugnance in speaking of it, especially when their
\ncontemplation is of the purer sort, so that the soul itself is hardly
\nconscious of it. Such a person is only able to say that he is
\nsatisfied, tranquil and contented and that he is conscious of the
\npresence of God, and that, as it seems to him, all is going well with
\nhim; but he cannot describe the state of his soul, nor can he say
\nanything about it save in general terms like these. It is a different
\nmatter when the experiences of the soul are of a particular kind, such
\nas visions, feelings, etc., which, being ordinarily received under some
\nspecies wherein sense participates, can be described under that
\nspecies, or by some other similitude. But this capacity for being
\ndescribed is not in the nature of pure contemplation, which is
\nindescribable, as we have said, for the which reason it is called
\nsecret.<\/p>\n
6. And not only for that reason is it called secret, and is so, but
\nlikewise because this mystical knowledge has the property of hiding the
\nsoul within itself. For, besides performing its ordinary function, it
\nsometimes absorbs the soul and engulfs it in its secret abyss, in such
\na way that the soul clearly sees that it has been carried far away from
\nevery creature and; has become most remote therefrom; [219] so that it
\nconsiders itself as having been placed in a most profound and vast
\nretreat, to which no human creature can attain, such as an immense
\ndesert, which nowhere has any boundary, a desert the more delectable,
\npleasant and lovely for its secrecy, vastness and solitude, wherein,
\nthe more the soul is raised up above all temporal creatures, the more
\ndeeply does it find itself hidden. And so greatly does this abyss of
\nwisdom raise up and exalt the soul at this time, making it to penetrate
\nthe veins of the science of love, that it not only shows it how base
\nare all properties of the creatures by comparison with this supreme
\nknowledge and Divine feeling, but likewise it learns how base and
\ndefective, and, in some measure, how inapt, are all the terms and words
\nwhich are used in this life to treat of Divine things, and how
\nimpossible it is, in any natural way or manner, however learnedly and
\nsublimely they may be spoken of, to be able to know and perceive them
\nas they are, save by the illumination of this mystical theology. And
\nthus, when by means of this illumination the soul discerns this truth,
\nnamely, that it cannot reach it, still less explain it, by common or
\nhuman language, it rightly calls it secret.<\/p>\n
7. This property of secrecy and superiority over natural capacity,
\nwhich belongs to this Divine contemplation, belongs to it, not only
\nbecause it is supernatural, but also inasmuch as it is a road that
\nguides and leads the soul to the perfections of union with God; which,
\nas they are things unknown after a human manner, must be approached,
\nafter a human manner, by unknowing and by Divine ignorance. For,
\nspeaking mystically, as we are speaking here, Divine things and
\nperfections are known and understood as they are, not when they are
\nbeing sought after and practised, but when they have been found and
\npractised. To this purpose speaks the prophet Baruch concerning this
\nDivine wisdom: There is none that can know her ways nor that can
\nimagine her paths.’ [220] Likewise the royal Prophet speaks in this
\nmanner concerning this road of the soul, when he says to God: Thy
\nlightnings lighted and illumined the round earth; the earth was moved
\nand trembled. Thy way is in the sea and Thy paths are in many waters;
\nand Thy footsteps shall not be known.’ [221]<\/p>\n
8. All this, speaking spiritually, is to be understood in the sense
\nwherein we are speaking. For the illumination of the round earth [222]
\nby the lightnings of God is the enlightenment which is produced by this
\nDivine contemplation in the faculties of the soul; the moving and
\ntrembling of the earth is the painful purgation which is caused
\ntherein; and to say that the way and the road of God whereby the soul
\njourneys to Him is in the sea, and His footprints are in many waters
\nand for this reason shall not be known, is as much as to say that this
\nroad whereby the soul journeys to God is as secret and as hidden from
\nthe sense of the soul as the way of one that walks on the sea, whose
\npaths and footprints are not known, is hidden from the sense of the
\nbody. The steps and footprints which God is imprinting upon the souls
\nthat He desires to bring near to Himself, and to make great in union
\nwith His Wisdom, have also this property, that they are not known.
\nWherefore in the Book of Job mention is made of this matter, in these
\nwords: Hast thou perchance known the paths of the great clouds or the
\nperfect knowledges?’ [223] By this are understood the ways and roads
\nwhereby God continually exalts souls and perfects them in His Wisdom,
\nwhich souls are here understood by the clouds. It follows, then, that
\nthis contemplation which is guiding the soul to God is secret wisdom.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[213] Propter hoc Gregorius (Hom. 14 in Ezech.) constituit vitam
\ncontemplativam in charitate Dei. Cf. Summa Theologica, 2a, 2ae, q. 45,
\na. 2.<\/p>\n
[214] Jeremias i, 6.<\/p>\n
[215] Exodus iv, 10 [cf. iii, 2].<\/p>\n
[216] Acts vii, 32.<\/p>\n
[217] [Or: and they know not how to say it nor are able to do so.’]<\/p>\n
[218] [Lit., to him that rules them.’]<\/p>\n
[219] [Lit., that is set most far away and most remote from every
\ncreatures.’]<\/p>\n
[220] Baruch iii, 31.<\/p>\n
[221] Psalm lxxvi, 19-20 [A.V., lxxvii, 18-19].<\/p>\n
[222] [Lit., of the roundness of the earth.’]<\/p>\n
[223] Job xxxvii, 16.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER XVIII<\/p>\n
Explains how this secret wisdom is likewise a ladder.<\/p>\n
IT now remains to consider the second point–namely, how this secret
\nwisdom is likewise a ladder. With respect to this it must be known that
\nwe can call this secret contemplation a ladder for many reasons. In the
\nfirst place, because, just as men mount by means of ladders and climb
\nup to possessions and treasures and things that are in strong places,
\neven so also, by means of this secret contemplation, without knowing
\nhow, the soul ascends and climbs up to a knowledge and possession of
\n[224] the good things and treasures of Heaven. This is well expressed
\nby the royal prophet David, when he says: Blessed is he that hath Thy
\nfavour and help, for such a man hath placed in his heart ascensions
\ninto the vale of tears in the place which he hath appointed; for after
\nthis manner the Lord of the law shall give blessing, and they shall go
\nfrom virtue to virtue as from step to step, and the God of gods shall
\nbe seen in Sion.’ [225] This God is the treasure of the strong place of
\nSion, which is happiness.<\/p>\n
2. We may also call it a ladder because, even as the ladder has those
\nsame steps in order that men may mount, it has them also that they may
\ndescend; even so is it likewise with this secret contemplation, for
\nthose same communications which it causes in the soul raise it up to
\nGod, yet humble it with respect to itself. For communications which are
\nindeed of God have this property, that they humble the soul and at the
\nsame time exalt it. For, upon this road, to go down is to go up, and to
\ngo up, to go down, for he that humbles himself is exalted and he that
\nexalts himself is humbled. [226] And besides the fact that the virtue
\nof humility is greatness, for the exercise of the soul therein, God is
\nwont to make it mount by this ladder so that it may descend, and to
\nmake it descend so that it may mount, that the words of the Wise Man
\nmay thus be fulfilled, namely: Before the soul is exalted, it is
\nhumbled; and before it is humbled, it is exalted.’ [227]<\/p>\n
3. Speaking now in a natural way, the soul that desires to consider it
\nwill be able to see how on this road (we leave apart the spiritual
\naspect, of which the soul is not conscious) it has to suffer many ups
\nand downs, and how the prosperity which it enjoys is followed
\nimmediately by certain storms and trials; so much so, that it appears
\nto have been given that period of calm in order that it might be
\nforewarned and strengthened against the poverty which has followed;
\njust as after misery and torment there come abundance and calm. It
\nseems to the soul as if, before celebrating that festival, it has first
\nbeen made to keep that vigil. This is the ordinary course and
\nproceeding of the state of contemplation until the soul arrives at the
\nstate of quietness; it never remains in the same state for long
\ntogether, but is ascending and descending continually.<\/p>\n
4. The reason for this is that, as the state of perfection, which
\nconsists in the perfect love of God and contempt for self, cannot exist
\nunless it have these two parts, which are the knowledge of God and of
\noneself, the soul has of necessity to be practised first in the one and
\nthen in the other, now being given to taste of the one–that is,
\nexaltation–and now being made to experience the other–that is,
\nhumiliation–until it has acquired perfect habits; and then this
\nascending and descending will cease, since the soul will have attained
\nto God and become united with Him, which comes to pass at the summit of
\nthis ladder, for the ladder rests and leans upon Him. For this ladder
\nof contemplation, which, as we have said, comes down from God, is
\nprefigured by that ladder which Jacob saw as he slept, whereon angels
\nwere ascending and descending, from God to man, and from man to God,
\nWho Himself was leaning upon the end of the ladder. [228] All this,
\nsays Divine Scripture, took place by night, when Jacob slept, in order
\nto express how secret is this road and ascent to God, and how different
\nfrom that of man’s knowledge. This is very evident, since ordinarily
\nthat which is of the greatest profit in it–namely, to be ever losing
\noneself and becoming as nothing [229] –is considered the worst thing
\npossible; and that which is of least worth, which is for a soul to find
\nconsolation and sweetness (wherein it ordinarily loses rather than
\ngains), is considered best.<\/p>\n
5. But, speaking now somewhat more substantially and properly of this
\nladder of secret contemplation, we shall observe that the principal
\ncharacteristic of contemplation, on account of which it is here called
\na ladder, is that it is the science of love. This, as we have said, is
\nan infused and loving knowledge of God, which enlightens the soul and
\nat the same time enkindles it with love, until it is raised up step by
\nstep, even unto God its Creator. For it is love alone that unites and
\njoins the soul with God. To the end that this may be seen more clearly,
\nwe shall here indicate the steps of this Divine ladder one by one,
\npointing out briefly the marks and effects of each, so that the soul
\nmay conjecture hereby on which of them it is standing. We shall
\ntherefore distinguish them by their effects, as do Saint Bernard and
\nSaint Thomas, [230] for to know them in themselves is not possible
\nafter a natural manner, inasmuch as this ladder of love is, as we have
\nsaid, so secret that God alone is He that measures and weighs it.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[224] [Lit., rises to scale, know and possess.’]<\/p>\n
[225] Psalm lxxxiii, 6 [A.V., lxxxiv, 7].<\/p>\n
[226] St. Luke xiv, 11.<\/p>\n
[227] Proverb xviii, 12.<\/p>\n
[228] Genesis xxviii, 12.<\/p>\n
[229] [Lit., and annihilating oneself.’]<\/p>\n
[230] Ut dicit Bernardus, Magna res est amor, sed sunt in eo gradus.
\nLoquendo ergo aliquantulum magis moraliter quam realiter, decem amoris
\ngradus distinguere possumus (D. Thom., De dilectione Dei et proximi,
\ncap. xxvii. Cf. Opusc. LXI of the edition of Venice, 1595).
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER XIX<\/p>\n
Begins to explain the ten steps [231] of the mystic ladder of Divine
\nlove, according to Saint Bernard and Saint Thomas. The first five
\nare here treated.<\/p>\n
WE observe, then, that the steps of this ladder of love by which the
\nsoul mounts, one by one, to God, are ten. The first step of love causes
\nthe soul to languish, and this to its advantage. The Bride is speaking
\nfrom this step of love when she says: I adjure you, daughters of
\nJerusalem, that, if ye find my Beloved, ye tell Him that I am sick with
\nlove.’ [232] This sickness, however, is not unto death, but for the
\nglory of God, for in this sickness the soul swoons as to sin and as to
\nall things that are not God, for the sake of God Himself, even as David
\ntestifies, saying: My soul hath swooned away’ [233] –that is, with
\nrespect to all things, for Thy salvation. For just as a sick man first
\nof all loses his appetite and taste for all food, and his colour
\nchanges, so likewise in this degree of love the soul loses its taste
\nand desire for all things and changes its colour and the other
\naccidentals of its past life, like one in love. The soul falls not into
\nthis sickness if excess of heat be not communicated to it from above,
\neven as is expressed in that verse of David which says: Pluviam
\nvoluntariam segregabis, Deus, haereditati tuae, et infirmata est, [234]
\netc. This sickness and swooning to all things, which is the beginning
\nand the first step on the road to God, we clearly described above, when
\nwe were speaking of the annihilation wherein the soul finds itself when
\nit begins to climb [235] this ladder of contemplative purgation, when
\nit can find no pleasure, support, consolation or abiding-place in
\nanything soever. Wherefore from this step it begins at once to climb to
\nthe second.<\/p>\n
2. The second step causes the soul to seek God without ceasing.
\nWherefore, when the Bride says that she sought Him by night upon her
\nbed (when she had swooned away according to the first step of love) and
\nfound Him not, she said: I will arise and will seek Him Whom my soul
\nloveth.’ [236] This, as we say, the soul does without ceasing as David
\ncounsels it, saying: ‘seek ye ever the face of God, and seek ye Him in
\nall things, tarrying not until ye find Him;’ [237] like the Bride, who,
\nhaving enquired for Him of the watchmen, passed on at once and left
\nthem. Mary Magdalene did not even notice the angels at the sepulchre.
\n[238] On this step the soul now walks so anxiously that it seeks the
\nBeloved in all things. In whatsoever it thinks, it thinks at once of
\nthe Beloved. Of whatsoever it speaks, in whatsoever matters present
\nthemselves, it is speaking and communing at once with the Beloved. When
\nit eats, when it sleeps, when it watches, when it does aught soever,
\nall its care is about the Beloved, as is said above with respect to the
\nyearnings of love. And now, as love begins to recover its health and
\nfind new strength in the love of this second step, it begins at once to
\nmount to the third, by means of a certain degree [239] of new purgation
\nin the night, as we shall afterwards describe, which produces in the
\nsoul the following effects.<\/p>\n
3. The third step of the ladder of love is that which causes the soul
\nto work and gives it fervour so that it fails not. Concerning this the
\nroyal Prophet says: ‘ Blessed is the man that feareth the Lord, for in
\nHis commandments he is eager to labour greatly.’ [240] Wherefore if
\nfear, being the son of love, causes within him this eagerness to
\nlabour, [241] what will be done by love itself? On this step the soul
\nconsiders great works undertaken for the Beloved as small; many things
\nas few; and the long time for which it serves Him as short, by reason
\nof the fire of love wherein it is now burning. Even so to Jacob, though
\nafter seven years he had been made to serve seven more, they seemed few
\nbecause of the greatness of his love. [242] Now if the love of a mere
\ncreature could accomplish so much in Jacob, what will love of the
\nCreator be able to do when on this third step it takes possession of
\nthe soul? Here, for the great love which the soul bears to God, it
\nsuffers great pains and afflictions because of the little that it does
\nfor God; and if it were lawful for it to be destroyed a thousand times
\nfor Him it would be comforted. Wherefore it considers itself useless in
\nall that it does and thinks itself to be living in vain. Another
\nwondrous effect produced here in the soul is that it considers itself
\nas being, most certainly, worse than all other souls: first, because
\nlove is continually teaching it how much is due to God; [243] and
\nsecond, because, as the works which it here does for God are many and
\nit knows them all to be faulty and imperfect, they all bring it
\nconfusion and affliction, for it realizes in how lowly a manner it is
\nworking for God, Who is so high. On this third step, the soul is very
\nfar from vainglory or presumption, and from condemning others. These
\nanxious effects, with many others like them, are produced in the soul
\nby this third step; wherefore it gains courage and strength from them
\nin order to mount to the fourth step, which is that that follows.<\/p>\n
4. The fourth step of this ladder of love is that whereby there is
\ncaused in the soul an habitual suffering because of the Beloved, yet
\nwithout weariness. For, as Saint Augustine says, love makes all things
\nthat are great, grievous and burdensome to be almost naught. From this
\nstep the Bride was speaking when, desiring to attain to the last step,
\nshe said to the Spouse: ‘set me as a seal upon thy heart, as a seal
\nupon thine arm; for love–that is, the act and work of love–is strong
\nas death, and emulation and importunity last as long as hell.’ [244]
\nThe spirit here has so much strength that it has subjected the flesh
\nand takes as little account of it as does the tree of one of its
\nleaves. In no way does the soul here seek its own consolation or
\npleasure, either in God, or in aught else, nor does it desire or seek
\nto pray to God for favours, for it sees clearly that it has already
\nreceived enough of these, and all its anxiety is set upon the manner
\nwherein it will be able to do something that is pleasing to God and to
\nrender Him some service such as He merits and in return for what it has
\nreceived from Him, although it be greatly to its cost. The soul says in
\nits heart and spirit: Ah, my God and Lord! How many are there that go
\nto seek in Thee their own consolation and pleasure, and desire Thee to
\ngrant them favours and gifts; but those who long to do Thee pleasure
\nand to give Thee something at their cost, setting their own interests
\nlast, are very few. The failure, my God, is not in Thy unwillingness to
\ngrant us new favours, but in our neglect to use those that we have
\nreceived in Thy service alone, in order to constrain Thee to grant them
\nto us continually. Exceeding lofty is this step of love; for, as the
\nsoul goes ever after God with love so true, imbued with the spirit of
\nsuffering for His sake, His Majesty oftentimes and quite habitually
\ngrants it joy, and visits it sweetly and delectably in the spirit; for
\nthe boundless love of Christ, the Word, cannot suffer the afflictions
\nof His lover without succouring him. This He affirmed through Jeremias,
\nsaying: I have remembered thee, pitying thy youth and tenderness, when
\nthou wentest after Me in the wilderness.’ [245] Speaking spiritually,
\nthis denotes the detachment which the soul now has interiorly from
\nevery creature, so that it rests not and nowhere finds quietness. This
\nfourth step enkindles the soul and makes it to burn in such desire for
\nGod that it causes it to mount to the fifth, which is that which
\nfollows.<\/p>\n
5. The fifth step of this ladder of love makes the soul to desire and
\nlong for God impatiently. On this step the vehemence of the lover to
\ncomprehend the Beloved and be united with Him is such that every delay,
\nhowever brief, becomes very long, wearisome and oppressive to it, and
\nit continually believes itself to be finding the Beloved. And when it
\nsees its desire frustrated (which is at almost every moment), it swoons
\naway with its yearning, as says the Psalmist, speaking from this step,
\nin these words: My soul longs and faints for the dwellings of the
\nLord.’ [246] On this step the lover must needs see that which he loves,
\nor die; at this step was Rachel, when, for the great longing that she
\nhad for children, she said to Jacob, her spouse: Give me children, else
\nshall I die.’ [247] Here men suffer hunger like dogs and go about and
\nsurround the city of God. On this step, which is one of hunger, [248]
\nthe soul is nourished upon love; for, even as is its hunger, so is its
\nabundance; so that it rises hence to the sixth step, producing the
\neffects which follow.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[231] [The word translated ‘step’ may also (and often more elegantly)
\nbe rendered degree.’ The same word is kept, however, throughout the
\ntranslation of this chapter except where noted below.]<\/p>\n
[232] Canticles v, 8.<\/p>\n
[233] Psalm cxlii, 7 [A.V., cxliii, 7].<\/p>\n
[234] Psalm lxvii, 10 [A.V., lxviii, 9].<\/p>\n
[235] [Lit., to enter (upon).’]<\/p>\n
[236] Canticles iii, 2.<\/p>\n
[237] Psalm civ, 4 [A.V., cv, 4].<\/p>\n
[238] St. John xx.<\/p>\n
[239] [The word in the Spanish is that elsewhere translated ‘step.’]<\/p>\n
[240] Psalm cxi, 1 [A.V., cxii, 1].<\/p>\n
[241] [Lit., makes in him this labour of eagerness.’]<\/p>\n
[242] Genesis xxix, 20.<\/p>\n
[243] [Lit., how much God merits.’]<\/p>\n
[244] Canticles viii, 5.<\/p>\n
[245] Jeremias ii, 2.<\/p>\n
[246] Psalm lxxxiii, 2 [A.V., lxxxiv, 2].<\/p>\n
[247] Genesis xxx, 1.<\/p>\n
[248] [Lit., On this hungering step.’]
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER XX<\/p>\n
Wherein are treated the other five steps of love.<\/p>\n
ON the sixth step the soul runs swiftly to God and touches Him again
\nand again; and it runs without fainting by reason of its hope. For here
\nthe love that has made it strong makes it to fly swiftly. Of this step
\nthe prophet Isaias speaks thus: ‘ The saints that hope in God shall
\nrenew their strength; they shall take wings as the eagle; they shall
\nfly and shall not faint,’ [249] as they did at the fifth step. To this
\nstep likewise alludes that verse of the Psalm: ‘ As the hart desires
\nthe waters, my soul desires Thee, O God.’ [250] For the hart, in its
\nthirst, runs to the waters with great swiftness. The cause of this
\nswiftness in love which the soul has on this step is that its charity
\nis greatly enlarged within it, since the soul is here almost wholly
\npurified, as is said likewise in the Psalm, namely: Sine iniquitate
\ncucurri. [251] And in another Psalm: I ran the way of Thy commandments
\nwhen Thou didst enlarge my heart’; [252] and thus from this sixth step
\nthe soul at once mounts to the seventh, which is that which follows.<\/p>\n
2. The seventh step of this ladder makes the soul to become vehement in
\nits boldness. Here love employs not its judgment in order to hope, nor
\ndoes it take counsel so that it may draw back, neither can any shame
\nrestrain it; for the favour which God here grants to the soul causes it
\nto become vehement in its boldness. Hence follows that which the
\nApostle says, namely: That charity believeth all things, hopeth all
\nthings and is capable of all things. [253] Of this step spake Moses,
\nwhen he entreated God to pardon the people, and if not, to blot out his
\nname from the book of life wherein He had written it. [254] Men like
\nthese obtain from God that which they beg of Him with desire. Wherefore
\nDavid says: Delight thou in God and He will give thee the petitions of
\nthy heart.’ [255] On this step the Bride grew bold, and said: Osculetur
\nme osculo oris sui. [256] To this step it is not lawful for the soul to
\naspire boldly, unless it feel the interior favour of the King’s sceptre
\nextended to it, lest perchance it fall from the other steps which it
\nhas mounted up to this point, and wherein it must ever possess itself
\nin humility. From this daring and power which God grants to the soul on
\nthis seventh step, so that it may be bold with God in the vehemence of
\nlove, follows the eighth, which is that wherein it takes the Beloved
\ncaptive and is united with Him, as follows.<\/p>\n
3. The eighth step of love causes the soul to seize Him and hold Him
\nfast without letting Him go, even as the Bride says, after this manner:
\nI found Him Whom my heart and soul love; I held Him and I will not let
\nHim go.’ [257] On this step of union the soul satisfies her desire, but
\nnot continuously. Certain souls climb some way, [258] and then lose
\ntheir hold; for, if this state were to continue, it would be glory
\nitself in this life; and thus the soul remains therein for very short
\nperiods of time. To the prophet Daniel, because he was a man of
\ndesires, was sent a command from God to remain on this step, when it
\nwas said to him: Daniel, stay upon thy step, because thou art a man of
\ndesires.’ [259] After this step follows the ninth, which is that of
\nsouls now perfect, as we shall afterwards say, which is that that
\nfollows.<\/p>\n
4. The ninth step of love makes the soul to burn with sweetness. This
\nstep is that of the perfect, who now burn sweetly in God. For this
\nsweet and delectable ardour is caused in them by the Holy Spirit by
\nreason of the union which they have with God. For this cause Saint
\nGregory says, concerning the Apostles, that when the Holy Spirit came
\nupon them visibly they burned inwardly and sweetly through love. [260]
\nOf the good things and riches of God which the soul enjoys on this
\nstep, we cannot speak; for if many books were to be written concerning
\nit the greater part would still remain untold. For this cause, and
\nbecause we shall say something of it hereafter, I say no more here than
\nthat after this follows the tenth and last step of this ladder of love,
\nwhich belongs not to this life.<\/p>\n
5. The tenth and last step of this secret ladder of love causes the
\nsoul to become wholly assimilated to God, by reason of the clear and
\nimmediate [261] vision of God which it then possesses; when, having
\nascended in this life to the ninth step, it goes forth from the flesh.
\nThese souls, who are few, enter not into purgatory, since they have
\nalready been wholly purged by love. Of these Saint Matthew says: Beati
\nmundo corde: quoniam ipsi Deum videbunt. [262] And, as we say, this
\nvision is the cause of the perfect likeness of the soul to God, for, as
\nSaint John says, we know that we shall be like Him. [263] Not because
\nthe soul will come to have the capacity of God, for that is impossible;
\nbut because all that it is will become like to God, for which cause it
\nwill be called, and will be, God by participation.<\/p>\n
6. This is the secret ladder whereof the soul here speaks, although
\nupon these higher steps it is no longer very secret to the soul, since
\nmuch is revealed to it by love, through the great effects which love
\nproduces in it. But, on this last step of clear vision, which is the
\nlast step of the ladder whereon God leans, as we have said already,
\nthere is naught that is hidden from the soul, by reason of its complete
\nassimilation. Wherefore Our Saviour says: In that day ye shall ask Me
\nnothing,’ etc. [264] But, until that day, however high a point the soul
\nmay reach, there remains something hidden from it–namely, all that it
\nlacks for total assimilation in the Divine Essence. After this manner,
\nby this mystical theology and secret love, the soul continues to rise
\nabove all things and above itself, and to mount upward to God. For love
\nis like fire, which ever rises upward with the desire to be absorbed in
\nthe centre of its sphere.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[249] Isaias xl, 31.<\/p>\n
[250] Psalm xli, 2 [A.V., xlii, 1].<\/p>\n
[251] Psalm lviii, 5 [A.V., lix, 4].<\/p>\n
[252] Psalm cxviii, 32 [A.V., cxix, 32].<\/p>\n
[253] 1 Corinthians xiii, 7.<\/p>\n
[254] Exodus xxxii, 31-2.<\/p>\n
[255] Psalm xxxvi, 4 [A.V., xxxvii, 4].<\/p>\n
[256] Canticles i, 1.<\/p>\n
[257] Canticles iii, 4.<\/p>\n
[258] [Lit., attain to setting their foot.’]<\/p>\n
[259] Daniel x, 11.<\/p>\n
[260] Dum Deum in ignis visione suscipiunt, per amorem suaviter
\narserunt (Hom. XXX in Evang.).<\/p>\n
[261] [i.e., direct, not mediate.]<\/p>\n
[262] St. Matthew v, 8.<\/p>\n
[263] St. John iii, 2.<\/p>\n
[264] St. John xvi, 23.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER XXI<\/p>\n
Which explains the word disguised,’ and describes the colours of the
\ndisguise of the soul in this night.<\/p>\n
Now that we have explained the reasons why the soul called this
\ncontemplation a ‘secret ladder,’ it remains for us to explain likewise
\nthe word disguised,’ and the reason why the soul says also that it went
\nforth by this ‘secret ladder’ in ‘ disguise.’<\/p>\n
2. For the understanding of this it must be known that to disguise
\noneself is naught else but to hide and cover oneself beneath another
\ngarb and figure than one’s own–sometimes in order to show forth, under
\nthat garb or figure, the will and purpose which is in the heart to gain
\nthe grace and will of one who is greatly loved; sometimes, again, to
\nhide oneself from one’s rivals and thus to accomplish one’s object
\nbetter. At such times a man assumes the garments and livery which best
\nrepresent and indicate the affection of his heart and which best
\nconceal him from his rivals.<\/p>\n
3. The soul, then, touched with the love of Christ the Spouse, and
\nlonging to attain to His grace and gain His goodwill, goes forth here
\ndisguised with that disguise which most vividly represents the
\naffections of its spirit and which will protect it most securely on its
\njourney from its adversaries and enemies, which are the devil, the
\nworld and the flesh. Thus the livery which it wears is of three chief
\ncolours–white, green and purple–denoting the three theological
\nvirtues, faith, hope and charity. By these the soul will not only gain
\nthe grace and goodwill of its Beloved, but it will travel in security
\nand complete protection from its three enemies: for faith is an inward
\ntunic of a whiteness so pure that it completely dazzles the eyes of the
\nunderstanding. [265] And thus, when the soul journeys in its vestment
\nof faith, the devil can neither see it nor succeed in harming it, since
\nit is well protected by faith–more so than by all the other
\nvirtues–against the devil, who is at once the strongest and the most
\ncunning of enemies.<\/p>\n
4. It is clear that Saint Peter could find no better protection than
\nfaith to save him from the devil, when he said: Cui resistite fortes in
\nfide. [266] And in order to gain the grace of the Beloved, and union
\nwith Him, the soul cannot put on a better vest and tunic, [267] to
\nserve as a foundation and beginning of the other vestments of the
\nvirtues, than this white garment [268] of faith, for without it, as the
\nApostle says, it is impossible to please God, and with it, it is
\nimpossible to fail to please Him. For He Himself says through a
\nprophet: Sponsabo te mihi in fide. [269] Which is as much as to say: If
\nthou desirest, O soul, to be united and betrothed to Me, thou must come
\ninwardly clad in faith.<\/p>\n
5. This white garment of faith was worn by the soul on its going forth
\nfrom this dark night, when, walking in interior constraint and
\ndarkness, as we have said before, it received no aid, in the form of
\nlight, from its understanding, neither from above, since Heaven seemed
\nto be closed to it and God hidden from it, nor from below, since those
\nthat taught it satisfied it not. It suffered with constancy and
\npersevered, passing through those trials without fainting or failing
\nthe Beloved, Who in trials and tribulations proves the faith of His
\nBride, so that afterwards she may truly repeat this saying of David,
\nnamely: By the words of Thy lips I kept hard ways.’ [270]<\/p>\n
6. Next, over this white tunic of faith the soul now puts on the second
\ncolour, which is a green vestment. By this, as we said, is signified
\nthe virtue of hope, wherewith, as in the first case, the soul is
\ndelivered and protected from the second enemy, which is the world. For
\nthis green colour of living hope in God gives the soul such ardour and
\ncourage and aspiration to the things of eternal life that, by
\ncomparison with what it hopes for therein, all things of the world seem
\nto it to be, as in truth they are, dry and faded and dead and nothing
\nworth. The soul now divests and strips itself of all these worldly
\nvestments and garments, setting its heart upon naught that is in the
\nworld and hoping for naught, whether of that which is or of that which
\nis to be, but living clad only in the hope of eternal life. Wherefore,
\nwhen the heart is thus lifted up above the world, not only can the
\nworld neither touch the heart nor lay hold on it, but it cannot even
\ncome within sight of it.<\/p>\n
7. And thus, in this green livery and disguise, the soul journeys in
\ncomplete security from this second enemy, which is the world. For Saint
\nPaul speaks of hope as the helmet of salvation [271] –that is, a piece
\nof armour that protects the whole head, and covers it so that there
\nremains uncovered only a visor through which it may look. And hope has
\nthis property, that it covers all the senses of the head of the soul,
\nso that there is naught soever pertaining to the world in which they
\ncan be immersed, nor is there an opening through which any arrow of the
\nworld can wound them. It has a visor, however, which the soul is
\npermitted to use so that its eyes may look upward, but nowhere else;
\nfor this is the function which hope habitually performs in the soul,
\nnamely, the directing of its eyes upwards to look at God alone, even as
\nDavid declared that his eyes were directed, when he said: Oculi mei
\nsemper ad Dominum. [272] He hoped for no good thing elsewhere, save as
\nhe himself says in another Psalm: Even as the eyes of the handmaid are
\nset upon the hands of her mistress, even so are our eyes set upon our
\nLord God, until He have mercy upon us as we hope in Him.’ [273]<\/p>\n
8. For this reason, because of this green livery (since the soul is
\never looking to God and sets its eyes on naught else, neither is
\npleased with aught save with Him alone), the Beloved has such great
\npleasure with the soul that it is true to say that the soul obtains
\nfrom Him as much as it hopes for from Him. Wherefore the Spouse in the
\nSongs tells the Bride that, by looking upon Him with one eye alone, she
\nhas wounded His heart. [274] Without this green livery of hope in God
\nalone it would be impossible for the soul to go forth to encompass this
\nloving achievement, for it would have no success, since that which
\nmoves and conquers is the importunity of hope.<\/p>\n
9. With this livery of hope the soul journeys in disguise through this
\nsecret and dark night whereof we have spoken; for it is so completely
\nvoided of every possession and support that it fixes its eyes and its
\ncare upon naught but God, putting its mouth in the dust, [275] if so be
\nthere may be hope–to repeat the quotation made above from Jeremias.
\n[276]<\/p>\n
10. Over the white and the green vestments, as the crown and perfection
\nof this disguise and livery, the soul now puts on the third colour,
\nwhich is a splendid garment of purple. By this is denoted the third
\nvirtue, which is charity. This not only adds grace to the other two
\ncolours, but causes the soul to rise to so lofty a point that it is
\nbrought near to God, and becomes very beautiful and pleasing to Him, so
\nthat it makes bold to say: Albeit I am black, O daughters of Jerusalem,
\nI am comely; wherefore the King hath loved me and hath brought me into
\nHis chambers.’ [277] This livery of charity, which is that of love, and
\ncauses greater love in the Beloved, not only protects the soul and
\nhides it from the third enemy, which is the flesh (for where there is
\ntrue love of God there enters neither love of self nor that of the
\nthings of self), but even gives worth to the other virtues, bestowing
\non them vigour and strength to protect the soul, and grace and beauty
\nto please the Beloved with them, for without charity no virtue has
\ngrace before God. This is the purple which is spoken of in the Songs,
\n[278] upon which God reclines. Clad in this purple livery the soul
\njourneys when (as has been explained above in the first stanza) it goes
\nforth from itself in the dark night, and from all things created,
\nkindled in love with yearnings,’ by this secret ladder of
\ncontemplation, to the perfect union of love of God, its beloved
\nsalvation. [279]<\/p>\n
11. This, then, is the disguise which the soul says that it wears in
\nthe night of faith, upon this secret ladder, and these are its three
\ncolours. They constitute a most fit preparation for the union of the
\nsoul with God, according to its three faculties, which are
\nunderstanding, memory and will. For faith voids and darkens the
\nunderstanding as to all its natural intelligence, and herein prepares
\nit for union with Divine Wisdom. Hope voids and withdraws the memory
\nfrom all creature possessions; for, as Saint Paul says, hope is for
\nthat which is not possessed; [280] and thus it withdraws the memory
\nfrom that which it is capable of possessing, and sets it on that for
\nwhich it hopes. And for this cause hope in God alone prepares the
\nmemory purely for union with God. Charity, in the same way, voids and
\nannihilates the affections and desires of the will for whatever is not
\nGod, and sets them upon Him alone; and thus this virtue prepares this
\nfaculty and unites it with God through love. And thus, since the
\nfunction of these virtues is the withdrawal of the soul from all that
\nis less than God, their function is consequently that of joining it
\nwith God.<\/p>\n
12. And thus, unless it journeys earnestly, clad in the garments of
\nthese three virtues, it is impossible for the soul to attain to the
\nperfection of union with God through love. Wherefore, in order that the
\nsoul might attain that which it desired, which was this loving and
\ndelectable union with its Beloved, this disguise and clothing which it
\nassumed was most necessary and convenient. And likewise to have
\nsucceeded in thus clothing itself and persevering until it should
\nobtain the end and aspiration which it had so much desired, which was
\nthe union of love, was a great and happy chance, wherefore in this line
\nthe soul also says:<\/p>\n
Oh, happy chance!
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[265] [Lit., that it dislocates the sight of all understanding.’]<\/p>\n
[266] 1 St. Peter v, 9.<\/p>\n
[267] [Lit., a better undershirt and tunic.’]<\/p>\n
[268] [Lit., this whiteness.’]<\/p>\n
[269] Osee, ii, 20.<\/p>\n
[270] Psalm xvi, 4 [A.V., xvii, 4].<\/p>\n
[271] 1 Thessalonians v, 8.<\/p>\n
[272] Psalm xxiv, 15 [A.V., xxv, 15].<\/p>\n
[273] Psalm cxxii, 2 [A.V., cxxiii, 2].<\/p>\n
[274] Canticles iv, 9.<\/p>\n
[275] Lamentations iii, 29.<\/p>\n
[276] Ibid. [For the quotation, see Bk. II, chap. viii, sect. 1,
\nabove.]<\/p>\n
[277] Canticles i, 3. [A.V., i, 4.] [For chambers’ the Spanish has
\nbed.’]<\/p>\n
[278] Canticles iii, 10.<\/p>\n
[279] [Or health.’]<\/p>\n
[280] Romans viii, 24.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER XXII<\/p>\n
Explains the third [281] line of the second stanza.<\/p>\n
IT is very clear that it was a happy chance for this soul to go forth
\nwith such an enterprise as this, for it was its going forth that
\ndelivered it from the devil and from the world and from its own
\nsensuality, as we have said. Having attained liberty of spirit, so
\nprecious and so greatly desired by all, it went forth from low things
\nto high; from terrestrial, it became celestial; from human, Divine.
\nThus it came to have its conversation in the heavens, as has the soul
\nin this state of perfection, even as we shall go on to say in what
\nfollows, although with rather more brevity.<\/p>\n
2. For the most important part of my task, and the part which chiefly
\nled me to undertake it, was the explanation of this night to many souls
\nwho pass through it and yet know nothing about it, as was said in the
\nprologue. Now this explanation and exposition has already been half
\ncompleted. Although much less has been said of it than might be said,
\nwe have shown how many are the blessings which the soul bears with it
\nthrough the night and how happy is the chance whereby it passes through
\nit, so that, when a soul is terrified by the horror of so many trials,
\nit is also encouraged by the certain hope of so many and such precious
\nblessings of God as it gains therein. And furthermore, for yet another
\nreason, this was a happy chance for the soul; and this reason is given
\nin the following line:<\/p>\n
In darkness and in concealment.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[281] i.e., in the original Spanish and in our verse rendering of the
\npoem in The Complete Works of St. John of the Cross, Ed. by E. Allison
\nPeers, Vol. II (The Newman Press, Westminster, Md.).
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER XXIII<\/p>\n
Expounds the fourth line [282] and describes the wondrous hiding
\nplace wherein the soul is set during this night. Shows how, although
\nthe devil has an entrance into other places that are very high, he
\nhas none into this.<\/p>\n
IN concealment’ is as much as to say in a hiding-place,’ or in hiding’;
\nand thus, what the soul here says (namely, that it went forth in
\ndarkness and in concealment’) is a more complete explanation of the
\ngreat security which it describes itself in the first line of the
\nstanza as possessing, by means of this dark contemplation upon the road
\nof the union of the love of God.<\/p>\n
2. When the soul, then, says in darkness and in concealment,’ it means
\nthat, inasmuch as it journeyed in darkness after the manner
\naforementioned, it went in hiding and in concealment from the devil and
\nfrom his wiles and stratagems. The reason why, as it journeys in the
\ndarkness of this contemplation, the soul is free, and is hidden from
\nthe stratagems of the devil, is that the infused contemplation which it
\nhere possesses is infused into it passively and secretly, without the
\nknowledge of the senses and faculties, whether interior or exterior, of
\nthe sensual part. And hence it follows that, not only does it journey
\nin hiding, and is free from the impediment which these faculties can
\nset in its way because of its natural weakness, but likewise from the
\ndevil; who, except through these faculties of the sensual part, cannot
\nreach or know that which is in the soul, nor that which is taking place
\nwithin it. Wherefore, the more spiritual, the more interior and the
\nmore remote from the senses is the communication, the farther does the
\ndevil fall short of understanding it.<\/p>\n
3. And thus it is of great importance for the security of the soul that
\nits inward communication with God should be of such a kind that its
\nvery senses of the lower part will remain in darkness [283] and be
\nwithout knowledge of it, and attain not to it: first, so that it may be
\npossible for the spiritual communication to be more abundant, and that
\nthe weakness of its sensual part may not hinder the liberty of its
\nspirit; secondly because, as we say, the soul journeys more securely
\nsince the devil cannot penetrate so far. In this way we may understand
\nthat passage where Our Saviour, speaking in a spiritual sense, says:
\nLet not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth.’ [284] Which is
\nas though He had said: Let not thy left hand know that which takes
\nplace upon thy right hand, which is the higher and spiritual part of
\nthe soul; that is, let it be of such a kind that the lower portion of
\nthy soul, which is the sensual part, may not attain to it; let it be a
\nsecret between the spirit and God alone.<\/p>\n
4. It is quite true that oftentimes, when these very intimate and
\nsecret spiritual communications are present and take place in the soul,
\nalthough the devil cannot get to know of what kind and manner they are,
\nyet the great repose and silence which some of them cause in the senses
\nand the faculties of the sensual part make it clear to him that they
\nare taking place and that the soul is receiving a certain blessing from
\nthem. And then, as he sees that he cannot succeed in thwarting them in
\nthe depth of the soul, he does what he can to disturb and disquiet the
\nsensual part–that part to which he is able to attain–now by means of
\nafflictions, now by terrors and fears, with intent to disquiet and
\ndisturb the higher and spiritual part of the soul by this means, with
\nrespect to that blessing which it then receives and enjoys. But often,
\nwhen the communication of such contemplation makes its naked assault
\nupon the soul and exerts its strength upon it, the devil, with all his
\ndiligence, is unable to disturb it; rather the soul receives a new and
\na greater advantage and a securer peace. For, when it feels the
\ndisturbing presence of the enemy, then–wondrous thing!–without
\nknowing how it comes to pass, and without any efforts of its own, it
\nenters farther into its own interior depths, feeling that it is indeed
\nbeing set in a sure refuge, where it perceives itself to be most
\ncompletely withdrawn and hidden from the enemy. And thus its peace and
\njoy, which the devil is attempting to take from it, are increased; and
\nall the fear that assails it remains without; and it becomes clearly
\nand exultingly conscious of its secure enjoyment of that quiet peace
\nand sweetness of the hidden Spouse, which neither the world nor the
\ndevil can give it or take from it. In that state, therefore, it
\nrealizes the truth of the words of the Bride about this, in the Songs,
\nnamely: ‘see how threescore strong men surround the bed of Solomon,
\netc., because of the fears of the night.’ [285] It is conscious of this
\nstrength and peace, although it is often equally conscious that its
\nflesh and bones are being tormented from without.<\/p>\n
5. At other times, when the spiritual communication is not made in any
\ngreat measure to the spirit, but the senses have a part therein, the
\ndevil more easily succeeds in disturbing the spirit and raising a
\ntumult within it, by means of the senses, with these terrors. Great are
\nthe torment and the affliction which are then caused in the spirit; at
\ntimes they exceed all that can be expressed. For, when there is a naked
\ncontact of spirit with spirit, the horror is intolerable which the evil
\nspirit causes in the good spirit (I mean, in the soul), when its tumult
\nreaches it. This is expressed likewise by the Bride in the Songs, when
\nshe says that it has happened thus to her at a time when she wished to
\ndescend to interior recollection in order to have fruition of these
\nblessings. She says: I went down into the garden of nuts to see the
\napples of the valleys, and if the vine had flourished. I knew not; my
\nsoul troubled me because of the chariots’–that is, because of the
\nchariots and the noise of Aminadab, which is the devil. [286]<\/p>\n
6. At other times it comes to pass that the devil is occasionally able
\nto see certain favours which God is pleased to grant the soul when they
\nare bestowed upon it by the mediation of a good angel; for of those
\nfavours which come through a good angel God habitually allows the enemy
\nto have knowledge: partly so that he may do that which he can against
\nthem according to the measure of justice, and that thus he may not be
\nable to allege with truth that no opportunity is given him for
\nconquering the soul, as he said concerning Job. [287] This would be the
\ncase if God allowed not a certain equality between the two
\nwarriors–namely, the good angel and the bad–when they strive for the
\nsoul, so that the victory of either may be of the greater worth, and
\nthe soul that is victorious and faithful in temptation may be the more
\nabundantly rewarded.<\/p>\n
7. We must observe, therefore, that it is for this reason that, in
\nproportion as God is guiding the soul and communing with it, He gives
\nthe devil leave to act with it after this manner. When the soul has
\ngenuine visions by the instrumentality of the good angel (for it is by
\nthis instrumentality that they habitually come, even though Christ
\nreveal Himself, for He scarcely ever appears [288] in His actual
\nperson), God also gives the wicked angel leave to present to the soul
\nfalse visions of this very type in such a way that the soul which is
\nnot cautious may easily be deceived by their outward appearance, as
\nmany souls have been. Of this there is a figure in Exodus, [289] where
\nit is said that all the genuine signs that Moses wrought were wrought
\nlikewise in appearance by the magicians of Pharaoh. If he brought forth
\nfrogs, they brought them forth likewise; if he turned water into blood,
\nthey did the same.<\/p>\n
8. And not only does the evil one imitate God in this type of bodily
\nvision, but he also imitates and interferes in spiritual communications
\nwhich come through the instrumentality of an angel, when he succeeds in
\nseeing them, as we say (for, as Job said [290] : Omne sublime videt).
\nThese, however, as they are without form and figure (for it is the
\nnature of spirit to have no such thing), he cannot imitate and
\ncounterfeit like those others which are presented under some species or
\nfigure. And thus, in order to attack the soul, in the same way as that
\nwherein it is being visited, his fearful spirit presents a similar
\nvision in order to attack and destroy spiritual things by spiritual.
\nWhen this comes to pass just as the good angel is about to communicate
\nspiritual contemplation to the soul, it is impossible for the soul to
\nshelter itself in the secrecy and hiding-place of contemplation with
\nsufficient rapidity not to be observed by the devil; and thus he
\nappears to it and produces a certain horror and perturbation of spirit
\nwhich at times is most distressing to the soul. Sometimes the soul can
\nspeedily free itself from him, so that there is no opportunity for the
\naforementioned horror of the evil spirit to make an impression on it;
\nand it becomes recollected within itself, being favoured, to this end,
\nby the effectual spiritual grace that the good angel then communicates
\nto it.<\/p>\n
9. At other times the devil prevails and encompasses the soul with a
\nperturbation and horror which is a greater affliction to it than any
\ntorment in this life could be. For, as this horrible communication
\npasses direct from spirit to spirit, in something like nakedness and
\nclearly distinguished from all that is corporeal, it is grievous beyond
\nwhat every sense can feel; and this lasts in the spirit for some time,
\nyet not for long, for otherwise the spirit would be driven forth from
\nthe flesh by the vehement communication of the other spirit. Afterwards
\nthere remains to it the memory thereof, which is sufficient to cause it
\ngreat affliction.<\/p>\n
10. All that we have here described comes to pass in the soul
\npassively, without its doing or undoing anything of itself with respect
\nto it. But in this connection it must be known that, when the good
\nangel permits the devil to gain this advantage of assailing the soul
\nwith this spiritual horror, he does it to purify the soul and to
\nprepare it by means of this spiritual vigil for some great spiritual
\nfavour and festival which he desires to grant it, for he never
\nmortifies save to give life, nor humbles save to exalt, which comes to
\npass shortly afterwards. Then, according as was the dark and horrible
\npurgation which the soul suffered, so is the fruition now granted it of
\na wondrous and delectable spiritual contemplation, sometimes so lofty
\nthat there is no language to describe it. But the spirit has been
\ngreatly refined by the preceding horror of the evil spirit, in order
\nthat it may be able to receive this blessing; for these spiritual
\nvisions belong to the next life rather than to this, and when one of
\nthem is seen this is a preparation for the next.<\/p>\n
11. This is to be understood with respect to occasions when God visits
\nthe soul by the instrumentality of a good angel, wherein, as has been
\nsaid, the soul is not so totally in darkness and in concealment that
\nthe enemy cannot come within reach of it. But, when God Himself visits
\nit, then the words of this line are indeed fulfilled, and it is in
\ntotal darkness and in concealment from the enemy that the soul receives
\nthese spiritual favours of God. The reason for this is that, as His
\nMajesty dwells substantially in the soul, where neither angel nor devil
\ncan attain to an understanding of that which comes to pass, they cannot
\nknow the intimate and secret communications which take place there
\nbetween the soul and God. These communications, since the Lord Himself
\nworks them, are wholly Divine and sovereign, for they are all
\nsubstantial touches of Divine union between the soul and God; in one of
\nwhich the soul receives a greater blessing than in all the rest, since
\nthis is the loftiest degree [291] of prayer in existence.<\/p>\n
12. For these are the touches that the Bride entreated of Him in the
\nSongs, saying: Osculetur me osculo oris sui. [292] Since this is a
\nthing which takes place in such close intimacy with God, whereto the
\nsoul desires with such yearnings to attain, it esteems and longs for a
\ntouch of this Divinity more than all the other favours that God grants
\nit. Wherefore, after many such favours have been granted to the Bride
\nin the said Songs, of which she has sung therein, she is not satisfied,
\nbut entreats Him for these Divine touches, saying: ‘ Who shall give
\nThee to me, my brother, that I might find Thee alone without, sucking
\nthe breasts of my mother, so that I might kiss Thee with the mouth of
\nmy soul, and that thus no man should despise me or make bold to attack
\nme.’ [293] By this she denotes the communication which God Himself
\nalone makes to her, as we are saying, far from all the creatures and
\nwithout their knowledge, for this is meant by alone and without,
\nsucking, etc.’–that is, drying up and draining the breasts of the
\ndesires and affections of the sensual part of the soul. This takes
\nplace when the soul, in intimate peace and delight, has fruition of
\nthese blessings, with liberty of spirit, and without the sensual part
\nbeing able to hinder it, or the devil to thwart it by means thereof.
\nAnd then the devil would not make bold to attack it, for he would not
\nreach it, neither could he attain to an understanding of these Divine
\ntouches in the substance of the soul in the loving substance of God.<\/p>\n
13. To this blessing none attains save through intimate purgation and
\ndetachment and spiritual concealment from all that is creature; it
\ncomes to pass in the darkness, as we have already explained at length
\nand as we say with respect to this line. The soul is in concealment and
\nin hiding, in the which hiding-place, as we have now said, it continues
\nto be strengthened in union with God through love, wherefore it sings
\nthis in the same phrase, saying: In darkness and in concealment.’<\/p>\n
14. When it comes to pass that those favours are granted to the soul in
\nconcealment (that is, as we have said, in spirit only), the soul is
\nwont, during some of them, and without knowing how this comes to pass,
\nto see itself so far withdrawn and separated according to the higher
\nand spiritual part, from the sensual and lower portion, that it
\nrecognizes in itself two parts so distinct from each other that it
\nbelieves that the one has naught to do with the other, but that the one
\nis very remote and far withdrawn from the other. And in reality, in a
\ncertain way, this is so; for the operation is now wholly spiritual, and
\nthe soul receives no communication in its sensual part. In this way the
\nsoul gradually becomes wholly spiritual; and in this hiding-place of
\nunitive contemplation its spiritual desires and passions are to a great
\ndegree removed and purged away. And thus, speaking of its higher part,
\nthe soul then says in this last line:<\/p>\n
My house being now at rest. [294]
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[282] i.e., in the original Spanish and in our verse rendering of the
\npoem in The Complete Works of St. John of the Cross, Ed. by E. Allison
\nPeers, Vol. II (The Newman Press, Westminster, Md.).<\/p>\n
[283] [The Spanish also admits of the rendering: remain shut off from
\nit by darkness.’]<\/p>\n
[284] Matthew vi, 3.<\/p>\n
[285] Canticles iii, 7-8.<\/p>\n
[286] Canticles vi, 10 [A.V., vi, 11-12].<\/p>\n
[287] Job i, 1-11.<\/p>\n
[288] Such is the unanimous opinion of theologians. Some, with St.
\nThomas (Pt. III, q. 57, a. 6), suppose that the appearance which
\nconverted St. Paul near Damascus was that of Our Lord Jesus Christ in
\nperson.<\/p>\n
[289] Exodus vii, 11-22; viii, 7.<\/p>\n
[290] Job xli, 25.<\/p>\n
[291] [Lit., ‘step.’ Cf. Bk. II, chap. xix, first note, above.]<\/p>\n
[292] Canticles i, 1.<\/p>\n
[293] Canticles viii, 1.<\/p>\n
[294] The word translated at rest’ is a past participle: more
\nliterally, ‘stilled.’
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER XXIV<\/p>\n
Completes the explanation of the second stanza.<\/p>\n
THIS is as much as to say: The higher portion of my soul being like the
\nlower part also, at rest with respect to its desires and faculties, I
\nwent forth to the Divine union of the love of God.<\/p>\n
2. Inasmuch as, by means of that war of the dark night, as has been
\nsaid, the soul is combated and purged after two manners–namely,
\naccording to its sensual and its spiritual part–with its senses,
\nfaculties and passions, so likewise after two manners–namely,
\naccording to these two parts, the sensual and the spiritual–with all
\nits faculties and desires, the soul attains to an enjoyment of peace
\nand rest. For this reason, as has likewise been said, the soul twice
\npronounces this line–namely, [295] in this stanza and in the
\nlast–because of these two portions of the soul, the spiritual and the
\nsensual, which, in order that they may go forth to the Divine union of
\nlove, must needs first be reformed, ordered and tranquillized with
\nrespect to the sensual and to the spiritual, according to the nature of
\nthe state of innocence which was Adam’s. [296] And thus this line
\nwhich, in the first stanza, was understood of the repose of the lower
\nand sensual portion, is, in this second stanza, understood more
\nparticularly of the higher and spiritual part; for which reason it is
\nrepeated. [297]<\/p>\n
3. This repose and quiet of this spiritual house the soul comes to
\nattain, habitually and perfectly (in so far as the condition of this
\nlife allows), by means of the acts of the substantial touches of Divine
\nunion whereof we have just spoken; which, in concealment, and hidden
\nfrom the perturbation of the devil, and of its own senses and passions,
\nthe soul has been receiving from the Divinity, wherein it has been
\npurifying itself, as I say, resting, strengthening and confirming
\nitself in order to be able to receive the said union once and for all,
\nwhich is the Divine betrothal between the soul and the Son of God. As
\nsoon as these two houses of the soul have together become tranquillized
\nand strengthened, with all their domestics–namely, the faculties and
\ndesires–and have put these domestics to sleep and made them to be
\nsilent with respect to all things, both above and below, this Divine
\nWisdom immediately unites itself with the soul by making a new bond of
\nloving possession, and there is fulfilled that which is written in the
\nBook of Wisdom, in these words: Dum quietum silentium contineret omnia,
\net nox in suo cursu medium iter haberet, omnipotens sermo tuus Domine a
\nregalibus sedibus. [298] The same thing is described by the Bride in
\nthe Songs, [299] where she says that, after she had passed by those who
\nstripped her of her mantle by night and wounded her, she found Him Whom
\nher soul loved.<\/p>\n
4. The soul cannot come to this union without great purity, and this
\npurity is not gained without great detachment from every created thing
\nand sharp mortification. This is signified by the stripping of the
\nBride of her mantle and by her being wounded by night as she sought and
\nwent after the Spouse; for the new mantle which belonged to the
\nbetrothal could not be put on until the old mantle was stripped off.
\nWherefore, he that refuses to go forth in the night aforementioned to
\nseek the Beloved, and to be stripped of his own will and to be
\nmortified, but seeks Him upon his bed and at his own convenience, as
\ndid the Bride, [300] will not succeed in finding Him. For this soul
\nsays of itself that it found Him by going forth in the dark and with
\nyearnings of love.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[295] [Lit., twice repeats’–a loosely used phrase.]<\/p>\n
[296] H omits this last phrase, which is found in all the other
\nCodices, and in e.p. The latter adds: notwithstanding that the soul is
\nnot wholly free from the temptations of the lower part.’ The addition
\nis made so that the teaching of the Saint may not be confused with that
\nof the Illuminists, who supposed the contemplative in union to be
\nimpeccable, do what he might. The Saint’s meaning is that for the
\nmystical union of the soul with God such purity and tranquillity of
\nsenses and faculties are needful that his condition resembles that
\nstate of innocence in which Adam was created, but without the attribute
\nof impeccability, which does not necessarily accompany union, nor can
\nbe attained by any, save by a most special privilege of God. Cf. St.
\nTeresa’s Interior Castle, VII, ii. St. Teresa will be found
\noccasionally to explain points of mystical doctrine which St. John of
\nthe Cross takes as being understood.<\/p>\n
[297] [Lit., twice repeated.’]<\/p>\n
[298] Wisdom xviii, 14.<\/p>\n
[299] Canticles v, 7.<\/p>\n
[300] Canticles iii, 1.
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
CHAPTER XXV<\/p>\n
Wherein is expounded the third stanza.<\/p>\n
In the happy night, In secret, when none saw me, Nor I beheld aught,
\nWithout light or guide, save that which burned in my heart.<\/p>\n
EXPOSITION<\/p>\n
THE soul still continues the metaphor and similitude of temporal night
\nin describing this its spiritual night, and continues to sing and extol
\nthe good properties which belong to it, and which in passing through
\nthis night it found and used, to the end that it might attain its
\ndesired goal with speed and security. Of these properties it here sets
\ndown three.<\/p>\n
2. The first, it says, is that in this happy night of contemplation God
\nleads the soul by a manner of contemplation so solitary and secret, so
\nremote and far distant from sense, that naught pertaining to it, nor
\nany touch of created things, succeeds in approaching the soul in such a
\nway as to disturb it and detain it on the road of the union of love.<\/p>\n
3. The second property whereof it speaks pertains to the spiritual
\ndarkness of this night, wherein all the faculties of the higher part of
\nthe soul are in darkness. The soul sees naught, neither looks at aught
\nneither stays in aught that is not God, to the end that it may reach
\nHim, inasmuch as it journeys unimpeded by obstacles of forms and
\nfigures, and of natural apprehensions, which are those that are wont to
\nhinder the soul from uniting with the eternal Being of God.<\/p>\n
4. The third is that, although as it journeys it is supported by no
\nparticular interior light of understanding, nor by any exterior guide,
\nthat it may receive satisfaction therefrom on this lofty road–it is
\ncompletely deprived of all this by this thick darkness–yet its love
\nalone, which burns at this time, and makes its heart to long for the
\nBeloved, is that which now moves and guides it, and makes it to soar
\nupward to its God along the road of solitude, without its knowing how
\nor in what manner.<\/p>\n
There follows the line:<\/p>\n
In the happy night. [301]
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
[301] Thus end the majority of the MSS. Cf. pp. lxviii-lxiii, Ascent of
\nMount Carmel (Image Books edition), 26-27, on the incomplete state of
\nthis treatise. The MSS. say nothing of this, except that in the Alba de
\nTormes MS. we read: Thus far wrote the holy Fray John of the Cross
\nconcerning the purgative way, wherein he treats of the active and the
\npassive [aspect] of it as is seen in the treatise of the Ascent of the
\nMount and in this of the Dark Night, and, as he died, he wrote no more.
\nAnd hereafter follows the illuminative way, and then the unitive.’
\nElsewhere we have said that the lack of any commentary on the last five
\nstanzas is not due to the Saint’s death, since he lived for many years
\nafter writing the commentary on the earlier stanzas.
\n__________________________________________________________________
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
Indexes
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
Index of Scripture References<\/p>\n
Genesis<\/p>\n
[1]21:8\u00a0\u00a0 [2]28:12\u00a0\u00a0 [3]29:20\u00a0\u00a0 [4]30:1\u00a0\u00a0 [5]30:1<\/p>\n
Exodus<\/p>\n
[6]3:2\u00a0\u00a0 [7]4:10\u00a0\u00a0 [8]7:11-22\u00a0\u00a0 [9]8:7\u00a0\u00a0 [10]16:3\u00a0\u00a0 [11]32:31-32
\n[12]33:5<\/p>\n
Numbers<\/p>\n
[13]11:5-6<\/p>\n
Deuteronomy<\/p>\n
[14]6:5<\/p>\n
Job<\/p>\n
[15]1:1-11\u00a0\u00a0 [16]2:7-8\u00a0\u00a0 [17]3:24\u00a0\u00a0 [18]7:2-4\u00a0\u00a0 [19]7:20\u00a0\u00a0 [20]7:20
\n[21]12:22\u00a0\u00a0 [22]16:12-16\u00a0\u00a0 [23]16:13-17\u00a0\u00a0 [24]19:21\u00a0\u00a0 [25]23:6
\n[26]30:16\u00a0\u00a0 [27]30:17\u00a0\u00a0 [28]37:16\u00a0\u00a0 [29]41:25<\/p>\n
Psalms<\/p>\n
[30]6:11-12\u00a0\u00a0 [31]11:7\u00a0\u00a0 [32]12:6\u00a0\u00a0 [33]16:4\u00a0\u00a0 [34]17:4\u00a0\u00a0 [35]17:12
\n[36]17:13\u00a0\u00a0 [37]17:13\u00a0\u00a0 [38]18:11\u00a0\u00a0 [39]18:12\u00a0\u00a0 [40]18:12\u00a0\u00a0 [41]24:15
\n[42]25:15\u00a0\u00a0 [43]29:7\u00a0\u00a0 [44]30:6\u00a0\u00a0 [45]30:21\u00a0\u00a0 [46]31:20\u00a0\u00a0 [47]36:4
\n[48]37:4\u00a0\u00a0 [49]37:9\u00a0\u00a0 [50]38:3\u00a0\u00a0 [51]38:4\u00a0\u00a0 [52]38:8\u00a0\u00a0 [53]38:12
\n[54]39:2\u00a0\u00a0 [55]39:3\u00a0\u00a0 [56]39:11\u00a0\u00a0 [57]41:2\u00a0\u00a0 [58]41:3\u00a0\u00a0 [59]42:1
\n[60]42:2\u00a0\u00a0 [61]50:12\u00a0\u00a0 [62]50:19\u00a0\u00a0 [63]51:10\u00a0\u00a0 [64]51:17\u00a0\u00a0 [65]58:5
\n[66]58:10\u00a0\u00a0 [67]58:15-16\u00a0\u00a0 [68]59:4\u00a0\u00a0 [69]59:9\u00a0\u00a0 [70]59:14-15
\n[71]62:2\u00a0\u00a0 [72]62:3\u00a0\u00a0 [73]63:1\u00a0\u00a0 [74]63:1-2\u00a0\u00a0 [75]67:10\u00a0\u00a0 [76]68:2-4
\n[77]68:9\u00a0\u00a0 [78]69:1-3\u00a0\u00a0 [79]72:21\u00a0\u00a0 [80]72:22\u00a0\u00a0 [81]73:21-22
\n[82]73:22\u00a0\u00a0 [83]76:4\u00a0\u00a0 [84]76:7\u00a0\u00a0 [85]76:19-20\u00a0\u00a0 [86]77:3-4
\n[87]77:6\u00a0\u00a0 [88]77:18-19\u00a0\u00a0 [89]83:2\u00a0\u00a0 [90]83:6\u00a0\u00a0 [91]84:2\u00a0\u00a0 [92]84:7
\n[93]84:9\u00a0\u00a0 [94]85:8\u00a0\u00a0 [95]87:6-8\u00a0\u00a0 [96]87:9\u00a0\u00a0 [97]88:5-7\u00a0\u00a0 [98]88:8
\n[99]96:2\u00a0\u00a0 [100]97:2\u00a0\u00a0 [101]104:4\u00a0\u00a0 [102]105:4\u00a0\u00a0 [103]111:1
\n[104]112:1\u00a0\u00a0 [105]118:32\u00a0\u00a0 [106]119:32\u00a0\u00a0 [107]122:2\u00a0\u00a0 [108]123:2
\n[109]138:12\u00a0\u00a0 [110]139:12\u00a0\u00a0 [111]142:3\u00a0\u00a0 [112]142:7\u00a0\u00a0 [113]143:3-4
\n[114]143:7\u00a0\u00a0 [115]147:17<\/p>\n
Proverbs<\/p>\n
[116]18:12<\/p>\n
Song of Solomon<\/p>\n
[117]1:1\u00a0\u00a0 [118]1:1\u00a0\u00a0 [119]1:3\u00a0\u00a0 [120]1:4\u00a0\u00a0 [121]3:1\u00a0\u00a0 [122]3:2
\n[123]3:4\u00a0\u00a0 [124]3:7-8\u00a0\u00a0 [125]3:10\u00a0\u00a0 [126]4:9\u00a0\u00a0 [127]5:7\u00a0\u00a0 [128]5:8
\n[129]5:8\u00a0\u00a0 [130]6:4\u00a0\u00a0 [131]6:10\u00a0\u00a0 [132]8:1\u00a0\u00a0 [133]8:1\u00a0\u00a0 [134]8:5<\/p>\n
Isaiah<\/p>\n
[135]5:30\u00a0\u00a0 [136]19:14\u00a0\u00a0 [137]26:9\u00a0\u00a0 [138]26:17-18\u00a0\u00a0 [139]28:9
\n[140]28:19\u00a0\u00a0 [141]40:31\u00a0\u00a0 [142]58:10\u00a0\u00a0 [143]64:4<\/p>\n
Jeremiah<\/p>\n
[144]1:6\u00a0\u00a0 [145]2:2\u00a0\u00a0 [146]31:18<\/p>\n
Lamentations<\/p>\n
[147]1:13\u00a0\u00a0 [148]3:1-20\u00a0\u00a0 [149]3:9\u00a0\u00a0 [150]3:9\u00a0\u00a0 [151]3:17\u00a0\u00a0 [152]3:17
\n[153]3:28\u00a0\u00a0 [154]3:29\u00a0\u00a0 [155]3:44<\/p>\n
Ezekiel<\/p>\n
[156]24:10\u00a0\u00a0 [157]24:11<\/p>\n
Daniel<\/p>\n
[158]10:11<\/p>\n
Hosea<\/p>\n
[159]2:20\u00a0\u00a0 [160]2:20\u00a0\u00a0 [161]13:9<\/p>\n
Jonah<\/p>\n
[162]2:1\u00a0\u00a0 [163]2:3-6\u00a0\u00a0 [164]2:4-7<\/p>\n
Habakkuk<\/p>\n
[165]2:1<\/p>\n
Matthew<\/p>\n
[166]5:8\u00a0\u00a0 [167]6:3\u00a0\u00a0 [168]7:3\u00a0\u00a0 [169]7:14\u00a0\u00a0 [170]7:14\u00a0\u00a0 [171]7:14
\n[172]10:36\u00a0\u00a0 [173]16:25\u00a0\u00a0 [174]23:24\u00a0\u00a0 [175]25:8\u00a0\u00a0 [176]27:62-66<\/p>\n
Luke<\/p>\n
[177]14:11\u00a0\u00a0 [178]18:11-12<\/p>\n
John<\/p>\n
[179]1:5\u00a0\u00a0 [180]3:2\u00a0\u00a0 [181]3:6\u00a0\u00a0 [182]16:23\u00a0\u00a0 [183]20\u00a0\u00a0 [184]20:1
\n[185]20:15<\/p>\n
Acts<\/p>\n
[186]7:32<\/p>\n
Romans<\/p>\n
[187]8:24<\/p>\n
1 Corinthians<\/p>\n
[188]2:9\u00a0\u00a0 [189]2:10\u00a0\u00a0 [190]13:6\u00a0\u00a0 [191]13:7\u00a0\u00a0 [192]13:11<\/p>\n
2 Corinthians<\/p>\n
[193]6:10<\/p>\n
Ephesians<\/p>\n
[194]4:4\u00a0\u00a0 [195]4:24<\/p>\n
Philippians<\/p>\n
[196]4:7<\/p>\n
1 Thessalonians<\/p>\n
[197]5:8<\/p>\n
1 Peter<\/p>\n
[198]5:9<\/p>\n
Revelation<\/p>\n
[199]3:8<\/p>\n
Tobit<\/p>\n
[200]8:2\u00a0\u00a0 [201]8:2<\/p>\n
Wisdom of Solomon<\/p>\n
[202]3:6\u00a0\u00a0 [203]7:11\u00a0\u00a0 [204]7:24\u00a0\u00a0 [205]9:15\u00a0\u00a0 [206]16:21\u00a0\u00a0 [207]18:14<\/p>\n
Baruch<\/p>\n
[208]3:31<\/p>\n
Sirach<\/p>\n
[209]34:9-10\u00a0\u00a0 [210]51:19-21\u00a0\u00a0 [211]51:28-9
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
Index of Latin Words and Phrases<\/p>\n
* [212]Cor mundum crea in me, Deus
\n* [213]Dum Deum in ignis visione suscipiunt, per amorem suaviter
\narserunt
\n* [214]Dum quietum silentium contineret omnia, et nox in suo cursu
\nmedium iter haberet, omnipotens sermo tuus Domine a regalibus
\nsedibus
\n* [215]Omne sublime videt
\n* [216]Osculetur me osculo oris sui
\n* [217]Propter hoc Gregorius (Hom. 14 in Ezech.) constituit vitam
\ncontemplativam in charitate Dei.
\n* [218]Spiritus vertiginis
\n* [219]Ut dicit Bernardus, Magna res est amor, sed sunt in eo gradus.
\nLoquendo ergo aliquantulum magis moraliter quam realiter, decem
\namoris gradus distinguere possumus
\n* [220]agnusdei
\n* [221]agnusdeis
\n* [222]cervus
\n* [223]hebetudo mentis
\n__________________________________________________________________<\/p>\n
__________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n Title: Dark Night of the Soul\r\n Creator(s): John of the Cross, St. (1542-1591)\r\n CCEL Subjects: All; Classic; Mysticism; Proofed\r\n LC Call no: BV5080\r\n LC Subjects:\r\n\r\n Practical theology\r\n\r\n Practical religion. The Christian life\r\n\r\n Mysticism\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL\r\n\r\n by\r\n\r\n Saint John of the Cross\r\n\r\nDOCTOR OF THE CHURCH\r\n\r\nTHIRD REVISED EDITION\r\n\r\n Translated and edited, with an Introduction,\r\n\r\n by E. ALLISON PEERS\r\n\r\n from the critical edition of\r\n P. SILVERIO DE SANTA TERESA, C.D.\r\n\r\n TO THE\r\n DISCALCED CARMELITES OF CASTILE,\r\n\r\n WITH ABIDING MEMORIES OF THEIR HOSPITALITY AND KINDNESS\r\n IN MADRID, AVILA AND BURGOS,\r\n BUT ABOVE ALL OF THEIR DEVOTION TO\r\n SAINT JOHN OF THE CROSS,\r\n I DEDICATE THIS TRANSLATION\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nPREFACE TO THE ELECTRONIC EDITION\r\n\r\n This electronic edition (v 0.9) was scanned in 1994 from an\r\n uncopyrighted 1959 Image Books third edition of the Dark Night. The\r\n entire text except for the translator's preface and some of the\r\n footnotes have been reproduced. Nearly 400 footnotes (and parts of\r\n footnotes) describing variations among manuscripts have been omitted.\r\n Page number references in the footnotes have been changed to chapter\r\n and section where possible. This edition has been proofread once, but\r\n additional errors may remain. The translator's preface to the first and\r\n second editions may be found with the electronic edition of Ascent of\r\n Mount Carmel.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nPRINCIPAL ABBREVIATIONS\r\n\r\n A.V.--Authorized Version of the Bible (1611).\r\n\r\n D.V.--Douai Version of the Bible (1609).\r\n\r\n C.W.S.T.J.--The Complete Works of Saint Teresa of Jesus, translated and\r\n edited by E. Allison Peers from the critical edition of P. Silverio de\r\n Santa Teresa, C.D. London, Sheed and Ward, 1946. 3 vols.\r\n\r\n H.--E. Allison Peers: Handbook to the Life and Times of St. Teresa and\r\n St. John of the Cross. London, Burns Oates and Washbourne, 1953.\r\n\r\n LL.--The Letters of Saint Teresa of Jesus, translated and edited by E.\r\n Allison Peers from the critical edition of P. Silverio de Santa Teresa,\r\n C.D. London, Burns Oates and Washbourne, 1951. 2 vols.\r\n\r\n N.L.M.--National Library of Spain (Biblioteca Nacional), Madrid.\r\n\r\n Obras (P. Silv.)--Obras de San Juan de la Cruz, Doctor de la Iglesia,\r\n editadas y anotadas por el P. Silverio de Santa Teresa, C.D. Burgos,\r\n 1929-31. 5 vols.\r\n\r\n S.S.M.--E. Allison Peers: Studies of the Spanish Mystics. Vol. I,\r\n London, Sheldon Press, 1927; 2nd ed., London, S.P.C.K., 1951. Vol. II,\r\n London, Sheldon Press, 1930.\r\n\r\n Sobrino.--Jose Antonio de Sobrino, S.J.: Estudios sobre San Juan de la\r\n Cruz y nuevos textos de su obra. Madrid, 1950.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL\r\n\r\nINTRODUCTION\r\n\r\n SOMEWHAT reluctantly, out of respect for a venerable tradition, we\r\n publish the Dark Night as a separate treatise, though in reality it is\r\n a continuation of the Ascent of Mount Carmel and fulfils the\r\n undertakings given in it:\r\n\r\n The first night or purgation is of the sensual part of the soul,\r\n which is treated in the present stanza, and will be treated in the\r\n first part of this book. And the second is of the spiritual part; of\r\n this speaks the second stanza, which follows; and of this we shall\r\n treat likewise, in the second and the third part, with respect to\r\n the activity of the soul; and in the fourth part, with respect to\r\n its passivity. [1]\r\n\r\n This fourth part' is the Dark Night. Of it the Saint writes in a\r\n passage which follows that just quoted:\r\n\r\n And the second night, or purification, pertains to those who are\r\n already proficient, occurring at the time when God desires to bring\r\n them to the state of union with God. And this latter night is a more\r\n obscure and dark and terrible purgation, as we shall say afterwards.\r\n [2]\r\n\r\n In his three earlier books he has written of the Active Night, of Sense\r\n and of Spirit; he now proposes to deal with the Passive Night, in the\r\n same order. He has already taught us how we are to deny and purify\r\n ourselves with the ordinary help of grace, in order to prepare our\r\n senses and faculties for union with God through love. He now proceeds\r\n to explain, with an arresting freshness, how these same senses and\r\n faculties are purged and purified by God with a view to the same\r\n end--that of union. The combined description of the two nights\r\n completes the presentation of active and passive purgation, to which\r\n the Saint limits himself in these treatises, although the subject of\r\n the stanzas which he is glossing is a much wider one, comprising the\r\n whole of the mystical life and ending only with the Divine embraces of\r\n the soul transformed in God through love.\r\n\r\n The stanzas expounded by the Saint are taken from the same poem in the\r\n two treatises. The commentary upon the second, however, is very\r\n different from that upon the first, for it assumes a much more advanced\r\n state of development. The Active Night has left the senses and\r\n faculties well prepared, though not completely prepared, for the\r\n reception of Divine influences and illuminations in greater abundance\r\n than before. The Saint here postulates a principle of dogmatic\r\n theology--that by himself, and with the ordinary aid of grace, man\r\n cannot attain to that degree of purgation which is essential to his\r\n transformation in God. He needs Divine aid more abundantly. However\r\n greatly the soul itself labours,' writes the Saint, it cannot actively\r\n purify itself so as to be in the least degree prepared for the Divine\r\n union of perfection of love, if God takes not its hand and purges it\r\n not in that dark fire.' [3]\r\n\r\n The Passive Nights, in which it is God Who accomplishes the purgation,\r\n are based upon this incapacity. Souls begin to enter' this dark night\r\n\r\n when God draws them forth from the state of beginners--which is the\r\n state of those that meditate on the spiritual road--and begins to\r\n set them in the state of progressives--which is that of those who\r\n are already contemplatives--to the end that, after passing through\r\n it, they may arrive at the state of the perfect, which is that of\r\n the Divine union of the soul with God. [4]\r\n\r\n Before explaining the nature and effects of this Passive Night, the\r\n Saint touches, in passing, upon certain imperfections found in those\r\n who are about to enter it and which it removes by the process of\r\n purgation. Such travellers are still untried proficients, who have not\r\n yet acquired mature habits of spirituality and who therefore still\r\n conduct themselves as children. The imperfections are examined one by\r\n one, following the order of the seven deadly sins, in chapters\r\n (ii-viii) which once more reveal the author's skill as a director of\r\n souls. They are easy chapters to understand, and of great practical\r\n utility, comparable to those in the first book of the Ascent which deal\r\n with the active purgation of the desires of sense.\r\n\r\n In Chapter viii, St. John of the Cross begins to describe the Passive\r\n Night of the senses, the principal aim of which is the purgation or\r\n stripping of the soul of its imperfections and the preparation of it\r\n for fruitive union. The Passive Night of Sense, we are told, is common'\r\n and comes to many,' whereas that of Spirit is the portion of very few.'\r\n [5] The one is bitter and terrible' but the second bears no comparison\r\n with it,' for it is horrible and awful to the spirit.' [6] A good deal\r\n of literature on the former Night existed in the time of St. John of\r\n the Cross and he therefore promises to be brief in his treatment of it.\r\n Of the latter, on the other hand, he will treat more fully . . . since\r\n very little has been said of this, either in speech or in writing, and\r\n very little is known of it, even by experience.' [7]\r\n\r\n Having described this Passive Night of Sense in Chapter viii, he\r\n explains with great insight and discernment how it may be recognized\r\n whether any given aridity is a result of this Night or whether it comes\r\n from sins or imperfections, or from frailty or lukewarmness of spirit,\r\n or even from indisposition or humours' of the body. The Saint is\r\n particularly effective here, and we may once more compare this chapter\r\n with a similar one in the Ascent (II, xiii)--that in which he fixes the\r\n point where the soul may abandon discursive meditation and enter the\r\n contemplation which belongs to loving and simple faith.\r\n\r\n Both these chapters have contributed to the reputation of St. John of\r\n the Cross as a consummate spiritual master. And this not only for the\r\n objective value of his observations, but because, even in spite of\r\n himself, he betrays the sublimity of his own mystical experiences. Once\r\n more, too, we may admire the crystalline transparency of his teaching\r\n and the precision of the phrases in which he clothes it. To judge by\r\n his language alone, one might suppose at times that he is speaking of\r\n mathematical, rather than of spiritual operations.\r\n\r\n In Chapter x, the Saint describes the discipline which the soul in this\r\n Dark Night must impose upon itself; this, as might be logically deduced\r\n from the Ascent, consists in allowing the soul to remain in peace and\r\n quietness,' content with a peaceful and loving attentiveness toward\r\n God.' [8] Before long it will experience enkindlings of love (Chapter\r\n xi), which will serve to purify its sins and imperfections and draw it\r\n gradually nearer to God; we have here, as it were, so many stages of\r\n the ascent of the Mount on whose summit the soul attains to\r\n transforming union. Chapters xii and xiii detail with great exactness\r\n the benefits that the soul receives from this aridity, while Chapter\r\n xiv briefly expounds the last line of the first stanza and brings to an\r\n end what the Saint desires to say with respect to the first Passive\r\n Night.\r\n\r\n At only slightly greater length St. John of the Cross describes the\r\n Passive Night of the Spirit, which is at once more afflictive and more\r\n painful than those which have preceded it. This, nevertheless, is the\r\n Dark Night par excellence, of which the Saint speaks in these words:\r\n The night which we have called that of sense may and should be called a\r\n kind of correction and restraint of the desire rather than purgation.\r\n The reason is that all the imperfections and disorders of the sensual\r\n part have their strength and root in the spirit, where all habits, both\r\n good and bad, are brought into subjection, and thus, until these are\r\n purged, the rebellions and depravities of sense cannot be purged\r\n thoroughly.' [9]\r\n\r\n Spiritual persons, we are told, do not enter the second night\r\n immediately after leaving the first; on the contrary, they generally\r\n pass a long time, even years, before doing so, [10] for they still have\r\n many imperfections, both habitual and actual (Chapter ii). After a\r\n brief introduction (Chapter iii), the Saint describes with some\r\n fullness the nature of this spiritual purgation or dark contemplation\r\n referred to in the first stanza of his poem and the varieties of pain\r\n and affliction caused by it, whether in the soul or in its faculties\r\n (Chapters iv-viii). These chapters are brilliant beyond all\r\n description; in them we seem to reach the culminating point of their\r\n author's mystical experience; any excerpt from them would do them an\r\n injustice. It must suffice to say that St. John of the Cross seldom\r\n again touches those same heights of sublimity.\r\n\r\n Chapter ix describes how, although these purgations seem to blind the\r\n spirit, they do so only to enlighten it again with a brighter and\r\n intenser light, which it is preparing itself to receive with greater\r\n abundance. The following chapter makes the comparison between spiritual\r\n purgation and the log of wood which gradually becomes transformed\r\n through being immersed in fire and at last takes on the fire's own\r\n properties. The force with which the familiar similitude is driven home\r\n impresses indelibly upon the mind the fundamental concept of this most\r\n sublime of all purgations. Marvellous, indeed, are its effects, from\r\n the first enkindlings and burnings of Divine love, which are greater\r\n beyond comparison than those produced by the Night of Sense, the one\r\n being as different from the other as is the body from the soul. For\r\n this (latter) is an enkindling of spiritual love in the soul, which, in\r\n the midst of these dark confines, feels itself to be keenly and sharply\r\n wounded in strong Divine love, and to have a certain realization and\r\n foretaste of God.' [11] No less wonderful are the effects of the\r\n powerful Divine illumination which from time to time enfolds the soul\r\n in the splendours of glory. When the effects of the light that wounds\r\n and yet illumines are combined with those of the enkindlement that\r\n melts the soul with its heat, the delights experienced are so great as\r\n to be ineffable.\r\n\r\n The second line of the first stanza of the poem is expounded in three\r\n admirable chapters (xi-xiii), while one short chapter (xiv) suffices\r\n for the three lines remaining. We then embark upon the second stanza,\r\n which describes the soul's security in the Dark Night--due, among other\r\n reasons, to its being freed not only from itself, but likewise from its\r\n other enemies, which are the world and the devil.' [12]\r\n\r\n This contemplation is not only dark, but also secret (Chapter xvii),\r\n and in Chapter xviii is compared to the staircase' of the poem. This\r\n comparison suggests to the Saint an exposition (Chapters xviii, xix) of\r\n the ten steps or degrees of love which comprise St. Bernard's mystical\r\n ladder. Chapter xxi describes the soul's disguise,' from which the book\r\n passes on (Chapters xxii, xxiii) to extol the happy chance' which led\r\n it to journey in darkness and concealment' from its enemies, both\r\n without and within.\r\n\r\n Chapter xxiv glosses the last line of the second stanza--my house being\r\n now at rest.' Both the higher and the lower portions of the soul' are\r\n now tranquillized and prepared for the desired union with the Spouse, a\r\n union which is the subject that the Saint proposed to treat in his\r\n commentary on the five remaining stanzas. As far as we know, this\r\n commentary was never written. We have only the briefest outline of what\r\n was to have been covered in the third, in which, following the same\r\n effective metaphor of night, the Saint describes the excellent\r\n properties of the spiritual night of infused contemplation, through\r\n which the soul journeys with no other guide or support, either outward\r\n or inward, than the Divine love which burned in my heart.'\r\n\r\n It is difficult to express adequately the sense of loss that one feels\r\n at the premature truncation of this eloquent treatise. [13] We have\r\n already given our opinion [14] upon the commentaries thought to have\r\n been written on the final stanzas of the Dark Night.' Did we possess\r\n them, they would explain the birth of the light--dawn's first\r\n breathings in the heav'ns above'--which breaks through the black\r\n darkness of the Active and the Passive Nights; they would tell us, too,\r\n of the soul's further progress towards the Sun's full brightness. It is\r\n true, of course, that some part of this great gap is filled by St. John\r\n of the Cross himself in his other treatises, but it is small\r\n compensation for the incomplete state in which he left this edifice of\r\n such gigantic proportions that he should have given us other and\r\n smaller buildings of a somewhat similar kind. Admirable as are the\r\n Spiritual Canticle and the Living Flame of Love, they are not so\r\n completely knit into one whole as is this great double treatise. They\r\n lose both in flexibility and in substance through the closeness with\r\n which they follow the stanzas of which they are the exposition. In the\r\n Ascent and the Dark Night, on the other hand, we catch only the echoes\r\n of the poem, which are all but lost in the resonance of the\r\n philosopher's voice and the eloquent tones of the preacher. Nor have\r\n the other treatises the learning and the authority of these. Nowhere\r\n else does the genius of St. John of the Cross for infusing philosophy\r\n into his mystical dissertations find such an outlet as here. Nowhere\r\n else, again, is he quite so appealingly human; for, though he is human\r\n even in his loftiest and sublimest passages, this intermingling of\r\n philosophy with mystical theology makes him seem particularly so. These\r\n treatises are a wonderful illustration of the theological truth that\r\n grace, far from destroying nature, ennobles and dignifies it, and of\r\n the agreement always found between the natural and the\r\n supernatural--between the principles of sound reason and the sublimest\r\n manifestations of Divine grace.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [1] Ascent, Bk. I, chap. i, sect. 2.\r\n\r\n [2] Op. cit., sect. 3.\r\n\r\n [3] Dark Night, Bk. 1, chap. iii, sect. 3.\r\n\r\n [4] Op. cit., Bk. I, chap. i, sect. 1.\r\n\r\n [5] Dark Night, Bk. 1, chap. viii, sect. 1.\r\n\r\n [6] Op. cit., Bk. I, chap. viii, sect. 2.\r\n\r\n [7] Ibid.\r\n\r\n [8] Dark Night, Bk. I, chap. x, sect. 4.\r\n\r\n [9] Op. cit., Bk. II, chap. iii, sect. 1.\r\n\r\n [10] Op. cit., Bk. II, chap. i, sect. 1.\r\n\r\n [11] Dark Night, Bk. II, chap. xi, sect. 1.\r\n\r\n [12] Dark Night, Bk. II, chap. xvi, sect. 2.\r\n\r\n [13] [On this, see Sobrino, pp. 159-66.]\r\n\r\n [14] Cf. pp. lviii-lxiii, Ascent of Mount Carmel (Image Books edition).\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nMANUSCRIPTS OF THE DARK NIGHT\r\n\r\n The autograph of the Dark Night, like that of the Ascent of Mount\r\n Carmel, is unknown to us: the second seems to have disappeared in the\r\n same period as the first. There are extant, however, as many as twelve\r\n early copies of the Dark Night, some of which, though none of them is\r\n as palaeographically accurate as the best copy of the Ascent, are very\r\n reliable; there is no trace in them of conscious adulteration of the\r\n original or of any kind of modification to fit the sense of any passage\r\n into a preconceived theory. We definitely prefer one of these copies to\r\n the others but we nowhere follow it so literally as to incorporate in\r\n our text its evident discrepancies from its original.\r\n\r\n MS. 3,446. An early MS. in the clear masculine hand of an Andalusian:\r\n MS. 3,446 in the National Library, Madrid. Like many others, this MS.\r\n was transferred to the library from the Convento de San Hermenegildo at\r\n the time of the religious persecutions in the early nineteenth century;\r\n it had been presented to the Archives of the Reform by the Fathers of\r\n Los Remedios, Seville--a Carmelite house founded by P. Grecian in 1574.\r\n It has no title and a fragment from the Living Flame of Love is bound\r\n up with it.\r\n\r\n This MS. has only two omissions of any length; these form part\r\n respectively of Book II, Chapters xix and xxiii, dealing with the\r\n Passive Night of the Spirit. It has many copyist's errors. At the same\r\n time, its antiquity and origin, and the good faith of which it shows\r\n continual signs, give it, in our view, primacy over the other copies\r\n now to come under consideration. It must be made clear, nevertheless,\r\n that there is no extant copy of the Dark Night as trustworthy and as\r\n skilfully made as the Alcaudete MS. of the Ascent.\r\n\r\n MS. of the Carmelite Nuns of Toledo. Written in three hands, all early.\r\n Save for a few slips of the copyist, it agrees with the foregoing; a\r\n few of its errors have been corrected. It bears no title, but has a\r\n long sub-title which is in effect a partial summary of the argument.\r\n\r\n MS. of the Carmelite Nuns of Valladolid. This famous convent, which was\r\n one of St. Teresa's foundations, is very rich in Teresan autographs,\r\n and has also a number of important documents relating to St. John of\r\n the Cross, together with some copies of his works. That here described\r\n is written in a large, clear hand and probably dates from the end of\r\n the sixteenth century. It has a title similar to that of the last-named\r\n copy. With few exceptions it follows the other most important MSS.\r\n\r\n MS. Alba de Tormes. What has been said of this in the introduction to\r\n the Ascent (Image Books edition, pp. 6-7) applies also to the Dark\r\n Night. It is complete, save for small omissions on the part of the\r\n amanuensis, the Argument' at the beginning of the poem, the verses\r\n themselves and a few lines from Book II, Chapter vii.\r\n\r\n MS. 6,624. This copy is almost identical with the foregoing. It omits\r\n the Argument' and the poem itself but not the lines from Book II,\r\n Chapter vii.\r\n\r\n MS. 8,795. This contains the Dark Night, Spiritual Canticle, Living\r\n Flame of Love, a number of poems by St. John of the Cross and the\r\n Spiritual Colloquies between Christ and the soul His Bride. It is\r\n written in various hands, all very early and some feminine. A note by\r\n P. Andres de la Encarnacion, on the reverse of the first folio, records\r\n that the copy was presented to the Archives of the Reform by the\r\n Discalced Carmelite nuns of Baeza. This convent was founded in 1589,\r\n two years before the Saint's death, and the copy may well date from\r\n about this period. On the second folio comes the poem I entered in--I\r\n knew not where.' On the reverse of the third folio begins a kind of\r\n preface to the Dark Night, opening with the words: Begin the stanzas by\r\n means of which a soul may occupy itself and become fervent in the love\r\n of God. It deals with the Dark Night and is divided into two books. The\r\n first treats of the purgation of sense, and the second of the spiritual\r\n purgation of man. It was written by P. Fr. Juan de la Cruz, Discalced\r\n Carmelite.' On the next folio, a so-called Preface: To the Reader'\r\n begins: As a beginning and an explanation of these two purgations of\r\n the Dark Night which are to be expounded hereafter, this chapter will\r\n show how narrow is the path that leads to eternal life and how\r\n completely detached and disencumbered must be those that are to enter\r\n thereby.' This fundamental idea is developed for the space of two\r\n folios. There follows a sonnet on the Dark Night, [15] and immediately\r\n afterwards comes the text of the treatise.\r\n\r\n The copy contains many errors, but its only omission is that of the\r\n last chapter. There is no trace in it of any attempt to modify its\r\n original; indeed, the very nature and number of the copyist's errors\r\n are a testimony to his good faith.\r\n\r\n MS. 12,658. A note by P. Andres states that he acquired it in Madrid\r\n but has no more detailed recollection of its provenance. The Dark\r\n Night,' it adds, begins on folio 43; our holy father is described\r\n simply as ?the second friar of the new Reformation,? [16] which is\r\n clear evidence of its antiquity.'\r\n\r\n The Codex contains a number of opuscules, transcribed no doubt with a\r\n devotional aim by the copyist. Its epoch is probably the end of the\r\n sixteenth century; it is certainly earlier than the editions. There is\r\n no serious omission except that of six lines of the Argument.' The\r\n authors of the other works copied include St. Augustine, B. Juan de\r\n Avila, P. Baltasar Alvarez and P. Tomas de Jesus.\r\n\r\n The copies which remain to be described are all mutilated or\r\n abbreviated and can be disposed of briefly:\r\n\r\n MS. 13,498. This copy omits less of the Dark Night than of the Ascent\r\n but few pages are without their omissions. In one place a meticulous\r\n pair of scissors has removed the lower half of a folio on which the\r\n Saint deals with spiritual luxury.\r\n\r\n MS. of the Carmelite Friars of Toledo. Dates from early in the\r\n seventeenth century and has numerous omissions, especially in the\r\n chapters on the Passive Night of the Spirit. The date is given (in the\r\n same hand as that which copies the title) as 1618. This MS. also\r\n contains an opuscule by Suso and another entitled Brief compendium of\r\n the most eminent Christian perfection of P. Fr. Juan de la Cruz.'\r\n\r\n MS. 18,160. The copyist has treated the Dark Night little better than\r\n the Ascent; except from the first ten and the last three chapters, he\r\n omits freely.\r\n\r\n MS. 12,411. Entitled by its copyist 'spiritual Compendium,' this MS.\r\n contains several short works of devotion, including one by Ruysbroeck.\r\n Of St. John of the Cross's works it copies the Spiritual Canticle as\r\n well as the Dark Night; the latter is headed: 'song of one soul alone.'\r\n It also contains a number of poems, some of them by the Saint, and many\r\n passages from St. Teresa. It is in several hands, all of the\r\n seventeenth century. The copy of the Dark Night is most unsatisfactory;\r\n there are omissions and abbreviations everywhere.\r\n\r\n M.S. of the Carmelite Nuns of Pamplona. This MS. also omits and\r\n abbreviates continually, especially in the chapters on the Passive\r\n Night of Sense, which are reduced to a mere skeleton.\r\n\r\n Editio princeps. This is much more faithful to its original in the Dark\r\n Night than in the Ascent. Both the passages suppressed [17] and the\r\n interpolations [18] are relatively few and unimportant. Modifications\r\n of phraseology are more frequent and alterations are also made with the\r\n aim of correcting hyperbaton. In the first book about thirty lines are\r\n suppressed; in the second, about ninety. All changes which are of any\r\n importance have been shown in the notes.\r\n\r\n The present edition. We have given preference, as a general rule, to\r\n MS. 3,446, subjecting it, however, to a rigorous comparison with the\r\n other copies. Mention has already been made in the introduction to the\r\n Ascent (Image Books edition, pp. lxiii-lxvi) of certain apparent\r\n anomalies and a certain lack of uniformity in the Saint's method of\r\n dividing his commentaries. This is nowhere more noticeable than in the\r\n Dark Night. Instead of dividing his treatise into books, each with its\r\n proper title, the Saint abandons this method and uses titles only\r\n occasionally. As this makes comprehension of his argument the more\r\n difficult, we have adopted the divisions which were introduced by P.\r\n Salablanca and have been copied by successive editors.\r\n\r\n M. Baruzi (Bulletin Hispanique, 1922, Vol. xxiv, pp. 18-40) complains\r\n that this division weighs down the spiritual rhythm of the treatise and\r\n interrupts its movement. We do not agree. In any case, we greatly\r\n prefer the gain of clarity, even if the rhythm occasionally halts, to\r\n the other alternative--the constant halting of the understanding. We\r\n have, of course, indicated every place where the title is taken from\r\n the editio princeps and was not the work of the author.\r\n\r\n The following abbreviations are adopted in the footnotes:\r\n\r\n A = MS. of the Discalced Carmelite Friars of Alba.\r\n\r\n B = MS. 6,624 (National Library, Madrid).\r\n\r\n Bz. = MS. 8,795 (N.L.M.).\r\n\r\n C = MS. 13,498 (N.L.M.).\r\n\r\n G = MS. 18,160 (N.L.M.).\r\n\r\n H = MS. 3,446 (N.L.M.).\r\n\r\n M = MS. of the Discalced Carmelite Nuns of Toledo.\r\n\r\n Mtr. = MS. 12,658.\r\n\r\n P = MS. of the Discalced Carmelite Friars of Toledo.\r\n\r\n V = MS. of the Discalced Carmelite Nuns of Valladolid.\r\n\r\n E.p. = Editio princeps (1618).\r\n\r\n MS. 12,411 and the MS. of the Discalced Carmelite nuns of Pamplona are\r\n cited without abbreviations.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [15] [It contains a series of paradoxical statements, after the style\r\n of those in Ascent, Bk. I, chap. xiii, and is of no great literary\r\n merit. P. Silverio reproduces it in Spanish on p. 302 (note) of his\r\n first volume.]\r\n\r\n [16] The first friar' would be P. Antonio de Jesus, who was senior to\r\n St. John of the Cross in the Carmelite Order, though not in the Reform.\r\n\r\n [17] The longest of these are one of ten lines in Bk. I, chap. iv, [in\r\n the original] and those of Bk. II, chaps. vii, viii, xii, xiii, which\r\n vary from eleven to twenty-three lines. Bk. II, chap. xxiii, has also\r\n considerable modifications.\r\n\r\n [18] The chief interpolation is in Bk. I, chap. x.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n DARK NIGHT\r\n\r\n Exposition of the stanzas describing the method followed by the soul\r\n in its journey upon the spiritual road to the attainment of the\r\n perfect union of love with God, to the extent that is possible in\r\n this life. Likewise are described the properties belonging to the\r\n soul that has attained to the said perfection, according as they are\r\n contained in the same stanzas.\r\n\r\nPROLOGUE\r\n\r\n IN this book are first set down all the stanzas which are to be\r\n expounded; afterwards, each of the stanzas is expounded separately,\r\n being set down before its exposition; and then each line is expounded\r\n separately and in turn, the line itself also being set down before the\r\n exposition. In the first two stanzas are expounded the effects of the\r\n two spiritual purgations: of the sensual part of man and of the\r\n spiritual part. In the other six are expounded various and wondrous\r\n effects of the spiritual illumination and union of love with God.\r\n\r\nSTANZAS OF THE SOUL\r\n\r\n 1. On a dark night, Kindled in love with yearnings--oh, happy\r\n chance!--\r\n I went forth without being observed, My house being now at rest.\r\n\r\n 2. In darkness and secure, By the secret ladder, disguised--oh,\r\n happy chance!--\r\n In darkness and in concealment, My house being now at rest.\r\n\r\n 3. In the happy night, In secret, when none saw me,\r\n Nor I beheld aught, Without light or guide, save that which burned\r\n in my heart.\r\n\r\n 4. This light guided me More surely than the light of noonday\r\n To the place where he (well I knew who!) was awaiting me-- A place\r\n where none appeared.\r\n\r\n 5. Oh, night that guided me, Oh, night more lovely than the dawn,\r\n Oh, night that joined Beloved with lover, Lover transformed in the\r\n Beloved!\r\n\r\n 6. Upon my flowery breast, Kept wholly for himself alone,\r\n There he stayed sleeping, and I caressed him, And the fanning of the\r\n cedars made a breeze.\r\n\r\n 7. The breeze blew from the turret As I parted his locks;\r\n With his gentle hand he wounded my neck And caused all my senses to\r\n be suspended.\r\n\r\n 8. I remained, lost in oblivion; My face I reclined on the Beloved.\r\n All ceased and I abandoned myself, Leaving my cares forgotten among\r\n the lilies.\r\n\r\n Begins the exposition of the stanzas which treat of the way and manner\r\n which the soul follows upon the road of the union of love with God.\r\n\r\n Before we enter upon the exposition of these stanzas, it is well to\r\n understand here that the soul that utters them is now in the state of\r\n perfection, which is the union of love with God, having already passed\r\n through severe trials and straits, by means of spiritual exercise in\r\n the narrow way of eternal life whereof Our Saviour speaks in the\r\n Gospel, along which way the soul ordinarily passes in order to reach\r\n this high and happy union with God. Since this road (as the Lord\r\n Himself says likewise) is so strait, and since there are so few that\r\n enter by it, [19] the soul considers it a great happiness and good\r\n chance to have passed along it to the said perfection of love, as it\r\n sings in this first stanza, calling this strait road with full\r\n propriety dark night,' as will be explained hereafter in the lines of\r\n the said stanza. The soul, then, rejoicing at having passed along this\r\n narrow road whence so many blessings have come to it, speaks after this\r\n manner.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [19] St. Matthew vii, 14.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n BOOK THE FIRST\r\n\r\n Which treats of the Night of Sense.\r\n\r\nSTANZA THE FIRST\r\n\r\n On a dark night, Kindled in love with yearnings--oh, happy chance!--\r\n I went forth without being observed, My house being now at rest.\r\n\r\nEXPOSITION\r\n\r\n IN this first stanza the soul relates the way and manner which it\r\n followed in going forth, as to its affection, from itself and from all\r\n things, and in dying to them all and to itself, by means of true\r\n mortification, in order to attain to living the sweet and delectable\r\n life of love with God; and it says that this going forth from itself\r\n and from all things was a dark night,' by which, as will be explained\r\n hereafter, is here understood purgative contemplation, which causes\r\n passively in the soul the negation of itself and of all things referred\r\n to above.\r\n\r\n 2. And this going forth it says here that it was able to accomplish in\r\n the strength and ardour which love for its Spouse gave to it for that\r\n purpose in the dark contemplation aforementioned. Herein it extols the\r\n great happiness which it found in journeying to God through this night\r\n with such signal success that none of the three enemies, which are\r\n world, devil and flesh (who are they that ever impede this road), could\r\n hinder it; inasmuch as the aforementioned night of purgative [20]\r\n contemplation lulled to sleep and mortified, in the house of its\r\n sensuality, all the passions and desires with respect to their\r\n mischievous desires and motions. The line, then, says:\r\n\r\nOn a dark night\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER I\r\n\r\n Sets down the first line and begins to treat of the imperfections of\r\n beginners.\r\n\r\n INTO this dark night souls begin to enter when God draws them forth\r\n from the state of beginners--which is the state of those that meditate\r\n on the spiritual road--and begins to set them in the state of\r\n progressives--which is that of those who are already contemplatives--to\r\n the end that, after passing through it, they may arrive at the state of\r\n the perfect, which is that of the Divine union of the soul with God.\r\n Wherefore, to the end that we may the better understand and explain\r\n what night is this through which the soul passes, and for what cause\r\n God sets it therein, it will be well here to touch first of all upon\r\n certain characteristics of beginners (which, although we treat them\r\n with all possible brevity, will not fail to be of service likewise to\r\n the beginners themselves), in order that, realizing the weakness of the\r\n state wherein they are, they may take courage, and may desire that God\r\n will bring them into this night, wherein the soul is strengthened and\r\n confirmed in the virtues, and made ready for the inestimable delights\r\n of the love of God. And, although we may tarry here for a time, it will\r\n not be for longer than is necessary, so that we may go on to speak at\r\n once of this dark night.\r\n\r\n 2. It must be known, then, that the soul, after it has been definitely\r\n converted to the service of God, is, as a rule, spiritually nurtured\r\n and caressed by God, even as is the tender child by its loving mother,\r\n who warms it with the heat of her bosom and nurtures it with sweet milk\r\n and soft and pleasant food, and carries it and caresses it in her arms;\r\n but, as the child grows bigger, the mother gradually ceases caressing\r\n it, and, hiding her tender love, puts bitter aloes upon her sweet\r\n breast, sets down the child from her arms and makes it walk upon its\r\n feet, so that it may lose the habits of a child and betake itself to\r\n more important and substantial occupations. The loving mother is like\r\n the grace of God, for, as soon as the soul is regenerated by its new\r\n warmth and fervour for the service of God, He treats it in the same\r\n way; He makes it to find spiritual milk, sweet and delectable, in all\r\n the things of God, without any labour of its own, and also great\r\n pleasure in spiritual exercises, for here God is giving to it the\r\n breast of His tender love, even as to a tender child.\r\n\r\n 3. Therefore, such a soul finds its delight in spending long\r\n periods--perchance whole nights--in prayer; penances are its pleasures;\r\n fasts its joys; and its consolations are to make use of the sacraments\r\n and to occupy itself in Divine things. In the which things spiritual\r\n persons (though taking part in them with great efficacy and persistence\r\n and using and treating them with great care) often find themselves,\r\n spiritually speaking, very weak and imperfect. For since they are moved\r\n to these things and to these spiritual exercises by the consolation and\r\n pleasure that they find in them, and since, too, they have not been\r\n prepared for them by the practice of earnest striving in the virtues,\r\n they have many faults and imperfections with respect to these spiritual\r\n actions of theirs; for, after all, any man's actions correspond to the\r\n habit of perfection attained by him. And, as these persons have not had\r\n the opportunity of acquiring the said habits of strength, they have\r\n necessarily to work like feebler children, feebly. In order that this\r\n may be seen more clearly, and likewise how much these beginners in the\r\n virtues lacks with respect to the works in which they so readily engage\r\n with the pleasure aforementioned, we shall describe it by reference to\r\n the seven capital sins, each in its turn, indicating some of the many\r\n imperfections which they have under each heading; wherein it will be\r\n clearly seen how like to children are these persons in all they do. And\r\n it will also be seen how many blessings the dark night of which we\r\n shall afterwards treat brings with it, since it cleanses the soul and\r\n purifies it from all these imperfections.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER II\r\n\r\n Of certain spiritual imperfections which beginners have with respect\r\n to the habit of pride.\r\n\r\n AS these beginners feel themselves to be very fervent and diligent in\r\n spiritual things and devout exercises, from this prosperity (although\r\n it is true that holy things of their own nature cause humility) there\r\n often comes to them, through their imperfections, a certain kind of\r\n secret pride, whence they come to have some degree of satisfaction with\r\n their works and with themselves. And hence there comes to them likewise\r\n a certain desire, which is somewhat vain, and at times very vain, to\r\n speak of spiritual things in the presence of others, and sometimes even\r\n to teach such things rather than to learn them. They condemn others in\r\n their heart when they see that they have not the kind of devotion which\r\n they themselves desire; and sometimes they even say this in words,\r\n herein resembling the Pharisee, who boasted of himself, praising God\r\n for his own good works and despising the publican. [21]\r\n\r\n 2. In these persons the devil often increases the fervour that they\r\n have and the desire to perform these and other works more frequently,\r\n so that their pride and presumption may grow greater. For the devil\r\n knows quite well that all these works and virtues which they perform\r\n are not only valueless to them, but even become vices in them. And such\r\n a degree of evil are some of these persons wont to reach that they\r\n would have none appear good save themselves; and thus, in deed and\r\n word, whenever the opportunity occurs, they condemn them and slander\r\n them, beholding the mote in their brother's eye and not considering the\r\n beam which is in their own; [22] they strain at another's gnat and\r\n themselves swallow a camel. [23]\r\n\r\n 3. Sometimes, too, when their spiritual masters, such as confessors and\r\n superiors, do not approve of their spirit and behavior (for they are\r\n anxious that all they do shall be esteemed and praised), they consider\r\n that they do not understand them, or that, because they do not approve\r\n of this and comply with that, their confessors are themselves not\r\n spiritual. And so they immediately desire and contrive to find some one\r\n else who will fit in with their tastes; for as a rule they desire to\r\n speak of spiritual matters with those who they think will praise and\r\n esteem what they do, and they flee, as they would from death, from\r\n those who disabuse them in order to lead them into a safe\r\n road--sometimes they even harbour ill-will against them. Presuming\r\n thus, [24] they are wont to resolve much and accomplish very little.\r\n Sometimes they are anxious that others shall realize how spiritual and\r\n devout they are, to which end they occasionally give outward evidence\r\n thereof in movements, sighs and other ceremonies; and at times they are\r\n apt to fall into certain ecstasies, in public rather than in secret,\r\n wherein the devil aids them, and they are pleased that this should be\r\n noticed, and are often eager that it should be noticed more. [25]\r\n\r\n 4. Many such persons desire to be the favourites of their confessors\r\n and to become intimate with them, as a result of which there beset them\r\n continual occasions of envy and disquiet. [26] They are too much\r\n embarrassed to confess their sins nakedly, lest their confessors should\r\n think less of them, so they palliate them and make them appear less\r\n evil, and thus it is to excuse themselves rather than to accuse\r\n themselves that they go to confession. And sometimes they seek another\r\n confessor to tell the wrongs that they have done, so that their own\r\n confessor shall think they have done nothing wrong at all, but only\r\n good; and thus they always take pleasure in telling him what is good,\r\n and sometimes in such terms as make it appear to be greater than it is\r\n rather than less, desiring that he may think them to be good, when it\r\n would be greater humility in them, as we shall say, to depreciate it,\r\n and to desire that neither he nor anyone else should consider them of\r\n account.\r\n\r\n 5. Some of these beginners, too, make little of their faults, and at\r\n other times become over-sad when they see themselves fall into them,\r\n thinking themselves to have been saints already; and thus they become\r\n angry and impatient with themselves, which is another imperfection.\r\n Often they beseech God, with great yearnings, that He will take from\r\n them their imperfections and faults, but they do this that they may\r\n find themselves at peace, and may not be troubled by them, rather than\r\n for God's sake; not realizing that, if He should take their\r\n imperfections from them, they would probably become prouder and more\r\n presumptuous still. They dislike praising others and love to be praised\r\n themselves; sometimes they seek out such praise. Herein they are like\r\n the foolish virgins, who, when their lamps could not be lit, sought oil\r\n from others. [27]\r\n\r\n 6. From these imperfections some souls go on to develop [28] many very\r\n grave ones, which do them great harm. But some have fewer and some\r\n more, and some, only the first motions thereof or little beyond these;\r\n and there are hardly any such beginners who, at the time of these signs\r\n of fervour, [29] fall not into some of these errors. [30] But those who\r\n at this time are going on to perfection proceed very differently and\r\n with quite another temper of spirit; for they progress by means of\r\n humility and are greatly edified, not only thinking naught of their own\r\n affairs, but having very little satisfaction with themselves; they\r\n consider all others as far better, and usually have a holy envy of\r\n them, and an eagerness to serve God as they do. For the greater is\r\n their fervour, and the more numerous are the works that they perform,\r\n and the greater is the pleasure that they take in them, as they\r\n progress in humility, the more do they realize how much God deserves of\r\n them, and how little is all that they do for His sake; and thus, the\r\n more they do, the less are they satisfied. So much would they gladly do\r\n from charity and love for Him, that all they do seems to them naught;\r\n and so greatly are they importuned, occupied and absorbed by this\r\n loving anxiety that they never notice what others do or do not; or if\r\n they do notice it, they always believe, as I say, that all others are\r\n far better than they themselves. Wherefore, holding themselves as of\r\n little worth, they are anxious that others too should thus hold them,\r\n and should despise and depreciate that which they do. And further, if\r\n men should praise and esteem them, they can in no wise believe what\r\n they say; it seems to them strange that anyone should say these good\r\n things of them.\r\n\r\n 7. Together with great tranquillity and humbleness, these souls have a\r\n deep desire to be taught by anyone who can bring them profit; they are\r\n the complete opposite of those of whom we have spoken above, who would\r\n fain be always teaching, and who, when others seem to be teaching them,\r\n take the words from their mouths as if they knew them already. These\r\n souls, on the other hand, being far from desiring to be the masters of\r\n any, are very ready to travel and set out on another road than that\r\n which they are actually following, if they be so commanded, because\r\n they never think that they are right in anything whatsoever. They\r\n rejoice when others are praised; they grieve only because they serve\r\n not God like them. They have no desire to speak of the things that they\r\n do, because they think so little of them that they are ashamed to speak\r\n of them even to their spiritual masters, since they seem to them to be\r\n things that merit not being spoken of. They are more anxious to speak\r\n of their faults and sins, or that these should be recognized rather\r\n than their virtues; and thus they incline to talk of their souls with\r\n those who account their actions and their spirituality of little value.\r\n This is a characteristic of the spirit which is simple, pure, genuine\r\n and very pleasing to God. For as the wise Spirit of God dwells in these\r\n humble souls, He moves them and inclines them to keep His treasures\r\n secretly within and likewise to cast out from themselves all evil. God\r\n gives this grace to the humble, together with the other virtues, even\r\n as He denies it to the proud.\r\n\r\n 8. These souls will give their heart's blood to anyone that serves God,\r\n and will help others to serve Him as much as in them lies. The\r\n imperfections into which they see themselves fall they bear with\r\n humility, meekness of spirit and a loving fear of God, hoping in Him.\r\n But souls who in the beginning journey with this kind of perfection\r\n are, as I understand, and as has been said, a minority, and very few\r\n are those who we can be glad do not fall into the opposite errors. For\r\n this reason, as we shall afterwards say, God leads into the dark night\r\n those whom He desires to purify from all these imperfections so that He\r\n may bring them farther onward.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [21] St. Luke xviii, 11-12.\r\n\r\n [22] St. Matthew vii, 3.\r\n\r\n [23] St. Matthew xxiii, 24.\r\n\r\n [24] [Lit., Presuming.']\r\n\r\n [25] [The original merely has: and are often eager.']\r\n\r\n [26] [Lit., a thousand envies and disquietudes.']\r\n\r\n [27] St. Matthew xxv, 8. [Lit., who, having their lamps dead, sought\r\n oil from without.']\r\n\r\n [28] [Lit., to have.']\r\n\r\n [29] [Lit., these fervours.']\r\n\r\n [30] [Lit., into something of this.']\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER III\r\n\r\n Of some imperfections which some of these souls are apt to have,\r\n with respect to the second capital sin, which is avarice, in the\r\n spiritual sense.\r\n\r\n MANY of these beginners have also at times great spiritual avarice.\r\n They will be found to be discontented with the spirituality which God\r\n gives them; and they are very disconsolate and querulous because they\r\n find not in spiritual things the consolation that they would desire.\r\n Many can never have enough of listening to counsels and learning\r\n spiritual precepts, and of possessing and reading many books which\r\n treat of this matter, and they spend their time on all these things\r\n rather than on works of mortification and the perfecting of the inward\r\n poverty of spirit which should be theirs. Furthermore, they burden\r\n themselves with images and rosaries which are very curious; now they\r\n put down one, now take up another; now they change about, now change\r\n back again; now they want this kind of thing, now that, preferring one\r\n kind of cross to another, because it is more curious. And others you\r\n will see adorned with agnusdeis [31] and relics and tokens, [32] like\r\n children with trinkets. Here I condemn the attachment of the heart, and\r\n the affection which they have for the nature, multitude and curiosity\r\n of these things, inasmuch as it is quite contrary to poverty of spirit\r\n which considers only the substance of devotion, makes use only of what\r\n suffices for that end and grows weary of this other kind of\r\n multiplicity and curiosity. For true devotion must issue from the\r\n heart, and consist in the truth and substances alone of what is\r\n represented by spiritual things; all the rest is affection and\r\n attachment proceeding from imperfection; and in order that one may pass\r\n to any kind of perfection it is necessary for such desires to be\r\n killed.\r\n\r\n 2. I knew a person who for more than ten years made use of a cross\r\n roughly formed from a branch [33] that had been blessed, fastened with\r\n a pin twisted round it; he had never ceased using it, and he always\r\n carried it about with him until I took it from him; and this was a\r\n person of no small sense and understanding. And I saw another who said\r\n his prayers using beads that were made of bones from the spine of a\r\n fish; his devotion was certainly no less precious on that account in\r\n the sight of God, for it is clear that these things carried no devotion\r\n in their workmanship or value. Those, then, who start from these\r\n beginnings and make good progress attach themselves to no visible\r\n instruments, nor do they burden themselves with such, nor desire to\r\n know more than is necessary in order that they may act well; for they\r\n set their eyes only on being right with God and on pleasing Him, and\r\n therein consists their covetousness. And thus with great generosity\r\n they give away all that they have, and delight to know that they have\r\n it not, for God's sake and for charity to their neighbour, no matter\r\n whether these be spiritual things or temporal. For, as I say, they set\r\n their eyes only upon the reality of interior perfection, which is to\r\n give pleasure to God and in naught to give pleasure to themselves.\r\n\r\n 3. But neither from these imperfections nor from those others can the\r\n soul be perfectly purified until God brings it into the passive\r\n purgation of that dark night whereof we shall speak presently. It\r\n befits the soul, however, to contrive to labour, in so far as it can,\r\n on its own account, to the end that it may purge and perfect itself,\r\n and thus may merit being taken by God into that Divine care wherein it\r\n becomes healed of all things that it was unable of itself to cure.\r\n Because, however greatly the soul itself labours, it cannot actively\r\n purify itself so as to be in the least degree prepared for the Divine\r\n union of perfection of love, if God takes not its hand and purges it\r\n not in that dark fire, in the way and manner that we have to describe.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [31] The agnusdei was a wax medal with a representation of the lamb\r\n stamped upon it, often blessed by the Pope; at the time of the Saint\r\n such medals were greatly sought after, as we know from various\r\n references in St. Teresa's letters.\r\n\r\n [32] [The word nomina, translated token,' and normally meaning list, or\r\n roll,' refers to a relic on which were written the names of saints. In\r\n modern Spanish it can denote a medal or amulet used superstitiously.]\r\n\r\n [33] [No doubt a branch of palm, olive or rosemary, blessed in church\r\n on Palm Sunday, like the English palm crosses of to-day. Palm Sunday'\r\n is in Spanish Domingo de ramos: Branch Sunday.']\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER IV\r\n\r\n Of other imperfections which these beginners are apt to have with\r\n respect to the third sin, which is luxury.\r\n\r\n MANY of these beginners have many other imperfections than those which\r\n I am describing with respect to each of the deadly sins, but these I\r\n set aside, in order to avoid prolixity, touching upon a few of the most\r\n important, which are, as it were, the origin and cause of the rest. And\r\n thus, with respect to this sin of luxury (leaving apart the falling of\r\n spiritual persons into this sin, since my intent is to treat of the\r\n imperfections which have to be purged by the dark night), they have\r\n many imperfections which might be described as spiritual luxury, not\r\n because they are so, but because the imperfections proceed from\r\n spiritual things. For it often comes to pass that, in their very\r\n spiritual exercises, when they are powerless to prevent it, there arise\r\n and assert themselves in the sensual part of the soul impure acts and\r\n motions, and sometimes this happens even when the spirit is deep in\r\n prayer, or engaged in the Sacrament of Penance or in the Eucharist.\r\n These things are not, as I say, in their power; they proceed from one\r\n of three causes.\r\n\r\n 2. The first cause from which they often proceed is the pleasure which\r\n human nature takes in spiritual things. For when the spirit and the\r\n sense are pleased, every part of a man is moved by that pleasure [34]\r\n to delight according to its proportion and nature. For then the spirit,\r\n which is the higher part, is moved to pleasure [35] and delight in God;\r\n and the sensual nature, which is the lower part, is moved to pleasure\r\n and delight of the senses, because it cannot possess and lay hold upon\r\n aught else, and it therefore lays hold upon that which comes nearest to\r\n itself, which is the impure and sensual. Thus it comes to pass that the\r\n soul is in deep prayer with God according to the spirit, and, on the\r\n other hand, according to sense it is passively conscious, not without\r\n great displeasure, of rebellions and motions and acts of the senses,\r\n which often happens in Communion, for when the soul receives joy and\r\n comfort in this act of love, because this Lord bestows it (since it is\r\n to that end that He gives Himself), the sensual nature takes that which\r\n is its own likewise, as we have said, after its manner. Now as, after\r\n all, these two parts are combined in one individual, they ordinarily\r\n both participate in that which one of them receives, each after its\r\n manner; for, as the philosopher says, everything that is received is in\r\n the recipient after the manner of the same recipient. And thus, in\r\n these beginnings, and even when the soul has made some progress, its\r\n sensual part, being imperfect, oftentimes receives the Spirit of God\r\n with the same imperfection. Now when this sensual part is renewed by\r\n the purgation of the dark night which we shall describe, it no longer\r\n has these weaknesses; for it is no longer this part that receives\r\n aught, but rather it is itself received into the Spirit. And thus it\r\n then has everything after the manner of the Spirit.\r\n\r\n 3. The second cause whence these rebellions sometimes proceed is the\r\n devil, who, in order to disquiet and disturb the soul, at times when it\r\n is at prayer or is striving to pray, contrives to stir up these motions\r\n of impurity in its nature; and if the soul gives heed to any of these,\r\n they cause it great harm. For through fear of these not only do persons\r\n become lax in prayer--which is the aim of the devil when he begins to\r\n strive with them--but some give up prayer altogether, because they\r\n think that these things attack them more during that exercise than\r\n apart from it, which is true, since the devil attacks them then more\r\n than at other times, so that they may give up spiritual exercises. And\r\n not only so, but he succeeds in portraying to them very vividly things\r\n that are most foul and impure, and at times are very closely related to\r\n certain spiritual things and persons that are of profit to their souls,\r\n in order to terrify them and make them fearful; so that those who are\r\n affected by this dare not even look at anything or meditate upon\r\n anything, because they immediately encounter this temptation. And upon\r\n those who are inclined to melancholy this acts with such effect that\r\n they become greatly to be pitied since they are suffering so sadly; for\r\n this trial reaches such a point in certain persons, when they have this\r\n evil humour, that they believe it to be clear that the devil is ever\r\n present with them and that they have no power to prevent this, although\r\n some of these persons can prevent his attack by dint of great effort\r\n and labour. When these impurities attack such souls through the medium\r\n of melancholy, they are not as a rule freed from them until they have\r\n been cured of that kind of humour, unless the dark night has entered\r\n the soul, and rids them of all impurities, one after another. [36]\r\n\r\n 4. The third source whence these impure motions are apt to proceed in\r\n order to make war upon the soul is often the fear which such persons\r\n have conceived for these impure representations and motions. Something\r\n that they see or say or think brings them to their mind, and this makes\r\n them afraid, so that they suffer from them through no fault of their\r\n own.\r\n\r\n 5. There are also certain souls of so tender and frail a nature that,\r\n when there comes to them some spiritual consolation or some grace in\r\n prayer, the spirit of luxury is with them immediately, inebriating and\r\n delighting their sensual nature in such manner that it is as if they\r\n were plunged into the enjoyment and pleasure of this sin; and the\r\n enjoyment remains, together with the consolation, passively, and\r\n sometimes they are able to see that certain impure and unruly acts have\r\n taken place. The reason for this is that, since these natures are, as I\r\n say, frail and tender, their humours are stirred up and their blood is\r\n excited at the least disturbance. And hence come these motions; and the\r\n same thing happens to such souls when they are enkindled with anger or\r\n suffer any disturbance or grief. [37]\r\n\r\n 6. Sometimes, again, there arises within these spiritual persons,\r\n whether they be speaking or performing spiritual actions, a certain\r\n vigour and bravado, through their having regard to persons who are\r\n present, and before these persons they display a certain kind of vain\r\n gratification. This also arises from luxury of spirit, after the manner\r\n wherein we here understand it, which is accompanied as a rule by\r\n complacency in the will.\r\n\r\n 7. Some of these persons make friendships of a spiritual kind with\r\n others, which oftentimes arise from luxury and not from spirituality;\r\n this may be known to be the case when the remembrance of that\r\n friendship causes not the remembrance and love of God to grow, but\r\n occasions remorse of conscience. For, when the friendship is purely\r\n spiritual, the love of God grows with it; and the more the soul\r\n remembers it, the more it remembers the love of God, and the greater\r\n the desire it has for God; so that, as the one grows, the other grows\r\n also. For the spirit of God has this property, that it increases good\r\n by adding to it more good, inasmuch as there is likeness and conformity\r\n between them. But, when this love arises from the vice of sensuality\r\n aforementioned, it produces the contrary effects; for the more the one\r\n grows, the more the other decreases, and the remembrance of it\r\n likewise. If that sensual love grows, it will at once be observed that\r\n the soul's love of God is becoming colder, and that it is forgetting\r\n Him as it remembers that love; there comes to it, too, a certain\r\n remorse of conscience. And, on the other hand, if the love of God grows\r\n in the soul, that other love becomes cold and is forgotten; for, as the\r\n two are contrary to one another, not only does the one not aid the\r\n other, but the one which predominates quenches and confounds the other,\r\n and becomes strengthened in itself, as the philosophers say. Wherefore\r\n Our Saviour said in the Gospel: That which is born of the flesh is\r\n flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit.' [38] That is to\r\n say, the love which is born of sensuality ends in sensuality, and that\r\n which is of the spirit ends in the spirit of God and causes it to grow.\r\n This is the difference that exists between these two kinds of love,\r\n whereby we may know them.\r\n\r\n 8. When the soul enters the dark night, it brings these kinds of love\r\n under control. It strengthens and purifies the one, namely that which\r\n is according to God; and the other it removes and brings to an end; and\r\n in the beginning it causes both to be lost sight of, as we shall say\r\n hereafter.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [34] [Lit., recreation.']\r\n\r\n [35] [Lit., recreation.']\r\n\r\n [36] [Lit., of everything.']\r\n\r\n [37] All writers who comment upon this delicate matter go into lengthy\r\n and learned explanations of it, though in reality there is little that\r\n needs to be added to the Saint's clear and apt exposition. It will be\r\n remembered that St. Teresa once wrote to her brother Lorenzo, who\r\n suffered in this way: As to those stirrings of sense. . . . I am quite\r\n clear they are of no account, so the best thing is to make no account\r\n of them' (LL. 168). The most effective means of calming souls tormented\r\n by these favours is to commend them to a discreet and wise director\r\n whose counsel they may safely follow. The Illuminists committed the\r\n grossest errors in dealing with this matter.\r\n\r\n [38] St. John iii, 6.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER V\r\n\r\n Of the imperfections into which beginners fall with respect to the\r\n sin of wrath.\r\n\r\n BY reason of the concupiscence which many beginners have for spiritual\r\n consolations, their experience of these consolations is very commonly\r\n accompanied by many imperfections proceeding from the sin of wrath;\r\n for, when their delight and pleasure in spiritual things come to an\r\n end, they naturally become embittered, and bear that lack of sweetness\r\n which they have to suffer with a bad grace, which affects all that they\r\n do; and they very easily become irritated over the smallest\r\n matter--sometimes, indeed, none can tolerate them. This frequently\r\n happens after they have been very pleasantly recollected in prayer\r\n according to sense; when their pleasure and delight therein come to an\r\n end, their nature is naturally vexed and disappointed, just as is the\r\n child when they take it from the breast of which it was enjoying the\r\n sweetness. There is no sin in this natural vexation, when it is not\r\n permitted to indulge itself, but only imperfection, which must be\r\n purged by the aridity and severity of the dark night.\r\n\r\n 2. There are other of these spiritual persons, again, who fall into\r\n another kind of spiritual wrath: this happens when they become\r\n irritated at the sins of others, and keep watch on those others with a\r\n sort of uneasy zeal. At times the impulse comes to them to reprove them\r\n angrily, and occasionally they go so far as to indulge it [39] and set\r\n themselves up as masters of virtue. All this is contrary to spiritual\r\n meekness.\r\n\r\n 3. There are others who are vexed with themselves when they observe\r\n their own imperfectness, and display an impatience that is not\r\n humility; so impatient are they about this that they would fain be\r\n saints in a day. Many of these persons purpose to accomplish a great\r\n deal and make grand resolutions; yet, as they are not humble and have\r\n no misgivings about themselves, the more resolutions they make, the\r\n greater is their fall and the greater their annoyance, since they have\r\n not the patience to wait for that which God will give them when it\r\n pleases Him; this likewise is contrary to the spiritual meekness\r\n aforementioned, which cannot be wholly remedied save by the purgation\r\n of the dark night. Some souls, on the other hand, are so patient as\r\n regards the progress which they desire that God would gladly see them\r\n less so.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [39] [Lit. they even do it.']\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER VI\r\n\r\n Of imperfections with respect to spiritual gluttony.\r\n\r\n WITH respect to the fourth sin, which is spiritual gluttony, there is\r\n much to be said, for there is scarce one of these beginners who,\r\n however satisfactory his progress, falls not into some of the many\r\n imperfections which come to these beginners with respect to this sin,\r\n on account of the sweetness which they find at first in spiritual\r\n exercises. For many of these, lured by the sweetness and pleasure which\r\n they find in such exercises, strive more after spiritual sweetness than\r\n after spiritual purity and discretion, which is that which God regards\r\n and accepts throughout the spiritual journey. [40] Therefore, besides\r\n the imperfections into which the seeking for sweetness of this kind\r\n makes them fall, the gluttony which they now have makes them\r\n continually go to extremes, so that they pass beyond the limits of\r\n moderation within which the virtues are acquired and wherein they have\r\n their being. For some of these persons, attracted by the pleasure which\r\n they find therein, kill themselves with penances, and others weaken\r\n themselves with fasts, by performing more than their frailty can bear,\r\n without the order or advice of any, but rather endeavouring to avoid\r\n those whom they should obey in these matters; some, indeed, dare to do\r\n these things even though the contrary has been commanded them.\r\n\r\n 2. These persons are most imperfect and unreasonable; for they set\r\n bodily penance before subjection and obedience, which is penance\r\n according to reason and discretion, and therefore a sacrifice more\r\n acceptable and pleasing to God than any other. But such one-sided\r\n penance is no more than the penance of beasts, to which they are\r\n attracted, exactly like beasts, by the desire and pleasure which they\r\n find therein. Inasmuch as all extremes are vicious, and as in behaving\r\n thus such persons [41] are working their own will, they grow in vice\r\n rather than in virtue; for, to say the least, they are acquiring\r\n spiritual gluttony and pride in this way, through not walking in\r\n obedience. And many of these the devil assails, stirring up this\r\n gluttony in them through the pleasures and desires which he increases\r\n within them, to such an extent that, since they can no longer help\r\n themselves, they either change or vary or add to that which is\r\n commanded them, as any obedience in this respect is so bitter to them.\r\n To such an evil pass have some persons come that, simply because it is\r\n through obedience that they engage in these exercises, they lose the\r\n desire and devotion to perform them, their only desire and pleasure\r\n being to do what they themselves are inclined to do, so that it would\r\n probably be more profitable for them not to engage in these exercises\r\n at all.\r\n\r\n 3. You will find that many of these persons are very insistent with\r\n their spiritual masters to be granted that which they desire,\r\n extracting it from them almost by force; if they be refused it they\r\n become as peevish as children and go about in great displeasure,\r\n thinking that they are not serving God when they are not allowed to do\r\n that which they would. For they go about clinging to their own will and\r\n pleasure, which they treat as though it came from God; [42] and\r\n immediately their directors [43] take it from them, and try to subject\r\n them to the will of God, they become peevish, grow faint-hearted and\r\n fall away. These persons think that their own satisfaction and pleasure\r\n are the satisfaction and service of God.\r\n\r\n 4. There are others, again, who, because of this gluttony, know so\r\n little of their own unworthiness and misery and have thrust so far from\r\n them the loving fear and reverence which they owe to the greatness of\r\n God, that they hesitate not to insist continually that their confessors\r\n shall allow them to communicate often. And, what is worse, they\r\n frequently dare to communicate without the leave and consent [44] of\r\n the minister and steward of Christ, merely acting on their own opinion,\r\n and contriving to conceal the truth from him. And for this reason,\r\n because they desire to communicate continually, they make their\r\n confessions carelessly, [45] being more eager to eat than to eat\r\n cleanly and perfectly, although it would be healthier and holier for\r\n them had they the contrary inclination and begged their confessors not\r\n to command them to approach the altar so frequently: between these two\r\n extremes, however, the better way is that of humble resignation. But\r\n the boldness referred to is [46] a thing that does great harm, and men\r\n may fear to be punished for such temerity.\r\n\r\n 5. These persons, in communicating, strive with every nerve to obtain\r\n some kind of sensible sweetness and pleasure, instead of humbly doing\r\n reverence and giving praise within themselves to God. And in such wise\r\n do they devote themselves to this that, when they have received no\r\n pleasure or sweetness in the senses, they think that they have\r\n accomplished nothing at all. This is to judge God very unworthily; they\r\n have not realized that the least of the benefits which come from this\r\n Most Holy Sacrament is that which concerns the senses; and that the\r\n invisible part of the grace that it bestows is much greater; for, in\r\n order that they may look at it with the eyes of faith, God oftentimes\r\n withholds from them these other consolations and sweetnesses of sense.\r\n And thus they desire to feel and taste God as though He were\r\n comprehensible by them and accessible to them, not only in this, but\r\n likewise in other spiritual practices. All this is very great\r\n imperfection and completely opposed to the nature of God, since it is\r\n Impurity in faith.\r\n\r\n 6. These persons have the same defect as regards the practice of\r\n prayer, for they think that all the business of prayer consists in\r\n experiencing sensible pleasure and devotion and they strive to obtain\r\n this by great effort, [47] wearying and fatiguing their faculties and\r\n their heads; and when they have not found this pleasure they become\r\n greatly discouraged, thinking that they have accomplished nothing.\r\n Through these efforts they lose true devotion and spirituality, which\r\n consist in perseverance, together with patience and humility and\r\n mistrust of themselves, that they may please God alone. For this\r\n reason, when they have once failed to find pleasure in this or some\r\n other exercise, they have great disinclination and repugnance to return\r\n to it, and at times they abandon it. They are, in fact, as we have\r\n said, like children, who are not influenced by reason, and who act, not\r\n from rational motives, but from inclination. [48] Such persons expend\r\n all their effort in seeking spiritual pleasure and consolation; they\r\n never tire therefore, of reading books; and they begin, now one\r\n meditation, now another, in their pursuit of this pleasure which they\r\n desire to experience in the things of God. But God, very justly, wisely\r\n and lovingly, denies it to them, for otherwise this spiritual gluttony\r\n and inordinate appetite would breed innumerable evils. It is,\r\n therefore, very fitting that they should enter into the dark night,\r\n whereof we shall speak, [49] that they may be purged from this\r\n childishness.\r\n\r\n 7. These persons who are thus inclined to such pleasures have another\r\n very great imperfection, which is that they are very weak and remiss in\r\n journeying upon the hard [50] road of the Cross; for the soul that is\r\n given to sweetness naturally has its face set against all self-denial,\r\n which is devoid of sweetness. [51]\r\n\r\n 8. These persons have many other imperfections which arise hence, of\r\n which in time the Lord heals them by means of temptations, aridities\r\n and other trials, all of which are part of the dark night. All these I\r\n will not treat further here, lest I become too lengthy; I will only say\r\n that spiritual temperance and sobriety lead to another and a very\r\n different temper, which is that of mortification, fear and submission\r\n in all things. It thus becomes clear that the perfection and worth of\r\n things consist not in the multitude and the pleasantness of one's\r\n actions, but in being able to deny oneself in them; this such persons\r\n must endeavour to compass, in so far as they may, until God is pleased\r\n to purify them indeed, by bringing them [52] into the dark night, to\r\n arrive at which I am hastening on with my account of these\r\n imperfections.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [40] [Lit., spiritual road.']\r\n\r\n [41] [Lit., these persons.']\r\n\r\n [42] [Lit., and treat this as their God.']\r\n\r\n [43] [The Spanish is impersonal: immediately this is taken from them,'\r\n etc.]\r\n\r\n [44] [Lit., and opinion.']\r\n\r\n [45] [Lit., anyhow.']\r\n\r\n [46] [Lit, the other boldnesses are.']\r\n\r\n [47] [Lit., they strive to obtain this, as they say, by the strength of\r\n their arms.' The phrase is, of course, understood in the Spanish to be\r\n metaphorical, as the words as they say' clearly indicate.]\r\n\r\n [48] [Lit., who are not influenced, neither act by reason, but from\r\n pleasure.']\r\n\r\n [49] [Lit., which we shall give.']\r\n\r\n [50] [aspero: harsh, rough, rugged.]\r\n\r\n [51] [Lit., against all the sweetlessness of self- denial.']\r\n\r\n [52] [Lit., causing them to enter.']\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER VII\r\n\r\n Of imperfections with respect to spiritual envy and sloth.\r\n\r\n WITH respect likewise to the other two vices, which are spiritual envy\r\n and sloth, these beginners fail not to have many imperfections. For,\r\n with respect to envy, many of them are wont to experience movements of\r\n displeasure at the spiritual good of others, which cause them a certain\r\n sensible grief at being outstripped upon this road, so that they would\r\n prefer not to hear others praised; for they become displeased at\r\n others' virtues and sometimes they cannot refrain from contradicting\r\n what is said in praise of them, depreciating it as far as they can; and\r\n their annoyance thereat grows [53] because the same is not said of\r\n them, for they would fain be preferred in everything. All this is clean\r\n contrary to charity, which, as Saint Paul says, rejoices in goodness.\r\n [54] And, if charity has any envy, it is a holy envy, comprising grief\r\n at not having the virtues of others, yet also joy because others have\r\n them, and delight when others outstrip us in the service of God,\r\n wherein we ourselves are so remiss.\r\n\r\n 2. With respect also to spiritual sloth, beginners are apt to be irked\r\n by the things that are most spiritual, from which they flee because\r\n these things are incompatible with sensible pleasure. For, as they are\r\n so much accustomed to sweetness in spiritual things, they are wearied\r\n by things in which they find no sweetness. If once they failed to find\r\n in prayer the satisfaction which their taste required (and after all it\r\n is well that God should take it from them to prove them), they would\r\n prefer not to return to it: sometimes they leave it; at other times\r\n they continue it unwillingly. And thus because of this sloth they\r\n abandon the way of perfection (which is the way of the negation of\r\n their will and pleasure for God's sake) for the pleasure and sweetness\r\n of their own will, which they aim at satisfying in this way rather than\r\n the will of God.\r\n\r\n 3. And many of these would have God will that which they themselves\r\n will, and are fretful at having to will that which He wills, and find\r\n it repugnant to accommodate their will to that of God. Hence it happens\r\n to them that oftentimes they think that that wherein they find not\r\n their own will and pleasure is not the will of God; and that, on the\r\n other hand, when they themselves find satisfaction, God is satisfied.\r\n Thus they measure God by themselves and not themselves by God, acting\r\n quite contrarily to that which He Himself taught in the Gospel, saying:\r\n That he who should lose his will for His sake, the same should gain it;\r\n and he who should desire to gain it, the same should lose it. [55]\r\n\r\n 4. These persons likewise find it irksome when they are commanded to do\r\n that wherein they take no pleasure. Because they aim at spiritual\r\n sweetness and consolation, they are too weak to have the fortitude and\r\n bear the trials of perfection. [56] They resemble those who are softly\r\n nurtured and who run fretfully away from everything that is hard, and\r\n take offense at the Cross, wherein consist the delights of the spirit.\r\n The more spiritual a thing is, the more irksome they find it, for, as\r\n they seek to go about spiritual matters with complete freedom and\r\n according to the inclination of their will, it causes them great sorrow\r\n and repugnance to enter upon the narrow way, which, says Christ, is the\r\n way of life. [57]\r\n\r\n 5. Let it suffice here to have described these imperfections, among the\r\n many to be found in the lives of those that are in this first state of\r\n beginners, so that it may be seen how greatly they need God to set them\r\n in the state of proficients. This He does by bringing them into the\r\n dark night whereof we now speak; wherein He weans them from the breasts\r\n of these sweetnesses and pleasures, gives them pure aridities and\r\n inward darkness, takes from them all these irrelevances and\r\n puerilities, and by very different means causes them to win the\r\n virtues. For, however assiduously the beginner practises the\r\n mortification in himself of all these actions and passions of his, he\r\n can never completely succeed--very far from it--until God shall work it\r\n in him passively by means of the purgation of the said night. Of this I\r\n would fain speak in some way that may be profitable; may God, then, be\r\n pleased to give me His Divine light, because this is very needful in a\r\n night that is so dark and a matter that is so difficult to describe and\r\n to expound.\r\n\r\n The line, then, is:\r\n\r\nIn a dark night.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [53] [Lit., and, as they say, their eye (el ojo) grows'--a colloquial\r\n phrase expressing annoyance.]\r\n\r\n [54] 1 Corinthians xiii, 6. The Saint here cites the sense, not the\r\n letter, of the epistle.\r\n\r\n [55] St. Matthew xvi, 25.\r\n\r\n [56] [Lit., they are very weak for the fortitude and trial of\r\n perfection.']\r\n\r\n [57] St. Matthew vii, 14.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER VIII\r\n\r\n Wherein is expounded the first line of the first stanza, and a\r\n beginning is made of the explanation of this dark night.\r\n\r\n THIS night, which, as we say, is contemplation, produces in spiritual\r\n persons two kinds of darkness or purgation, corresponding to the two\r\n parts of man's nature--namely, the sensual and the spiritual. And thus\r\n the one night or purgation will be sensual, wherein the soul is purged\r\n according to sense, which is subdued to the spirit; and the other is a\r\n night or purgation which is spiritual, wherein the soul is purged and\r\n stripped according to the spirit, and subdued and made ready for the\r\n union of love with God. The night of sense is common and comes to many:\r\n these are the beginners; and of this night we shall speak first. The\r\n night of the spirit is the portion of very few, and these are they that\r\n are already practised and proficient, of whom we shall treat hereafter.\r\n\r\n 2. The first purgation or night is bitter and terrible to sense, as we\r\n shall now show. [58] The second bears no comparison with it, for it is\r\n horrible and awful to the spirit, as we shall show [59] presently.\r\n Since the night of sense is first in order and comes first, we shall\r\n first of all say something about it briefly, since more is written of\r\n it, as of a thing that is more common; and we shall pass on to treat\r\n more fully of the spiritual night, since very little has been said of\r\n this, either in speech [60] or in writing, and very little is known of\r\n it, even by experience.\r\n\r\n 3. Since, then, the conduct of these beginners upon the way of God is\r\n ignoble, [61] and has much to do with their love of self and their own\r\n inclinations, as has been explained above, God desires to lead them\r\n farther. He seeks to bring them out of that ignoble kind of love to a\r\n higher degree of love for Him, to free them from the ignoble exercises\r\n of sense and meditation (wherewith, as we have said, they go seeking\r\n God so unworthily and in so many ways that are unbefitting), and to\r\n lead them to a kind of spiritual exercise wherein they can commune with\r\n Him more abundantly and are freed more completely from imperfections.\r\n For they have now had practice for some time in the way of virtue and\r\n have persevered in meditation and prayer, whereby, through the\r\n sweetness and pleasure that they have found therein, they have lost\r\n their love of the things of the world and have gained some degree of\r\n spiritual strength in God; this has enabled them to some extent to\r\n refrain from creature desires, so that for God's sake they are now able\r\n to suffer a light burden and a little aridity without turning back to a\r\n time [62] which they found more pleasant. When they are going about\r\n these spiritual exercises with the greatest delight and pleasure, and\r\n when they believe that the sun of Divine favour is shining most\r\n brightly upon them, God turns all this light of theirs into darkness,\r\n and shuts against them the door and the source of the sweet spiritual\r\n water which they were tasting in God whensoever and for as long as they\r\n desired. (For, as they were weak and tender, there was no door closed\r\n to them, as Saint John says in the Apocalypse, iii, 8). And thus He\r\n leaves them so completely in the dark that they know not whither to go\r\n with their sensible imagination and meditation; for they cannot advance\r\n a step in meditation, as they were wont to do afore time, their inward\r\n senses being submerged in this night, and left with such dryness that\r\n not only do they experience no pleasure and consolation in the\r\n spiritual things and good exercises wherein they were wont to find\r\n their delights and pleasures, but instead, on the contrary, they find\r\n insipidity and bitterness in the said things. For, as I have said, God\r\n now sees that they have grown a little, and are becoming strong enough\r\n to lay aside their swaddling clothes and be taken from the gentle\r\n breast; so He sets them down from His arms and teaches them to walk on\r\n their own feet; which they feel to be very strange, for everything\r\n seems to be going wrong with them.\r\n\r\n 4. To recollected persons this commonly happens sooner after their\r\n beginnings than to others, inasmuch as they are freer from occasions of\r\n backsliding, and their desires turn more quickly from the things of the\r\n world, which is necessary if they are to begin to enter this blessed\r\n night of sense. Ordinarily no great time passes after their beginnings\r\n before they begin to enter this night of sense; and the great majority\r\n of them do in fact enter it, for they will generally be seen to fall\r\n into these aridities.\r\n\r\n 5. With regard to this way of purgation of the senses, since it is so\r\n common, we might here adduce a great number of quotations from Divine\r\n Scripture, where many passages relating to it are continually found,\r\n particularly in the Psalms and the Prophets. However, I do not wish to\r\n spend time upon these, for he who knows not how to look for them there\r\n will find the common experience of this purgation to be sufficient.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [58] [Lit., 'say.']\r\n\r\n [59] [Lit., 'say.']\r\n\r\n [60] [platica: the word is frequently used in Spanish to denote an\r\n informal sermon or address.]\r\n\r\n [61] [Lit., low'; the same word recurs below and is similarly\r\n translated.]\r\n\r\n [62] [Lit., to the better time.']\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER IX\r\n\r\n Of the signs by which it will be known that the spiritual person is\r\n walking along the way of this night and purgation of sense.\r\n\r\n BUT since these aridities might frequently proceed, not from the night\r\n and purgation of the sensual desires aforementioned, but from sins and\r\n imperfections, or from weakness and lukewarmness, or from some bad\r\n humour or indisposition of the body, I shall here set down certain\r\n signs by which it may be known if such aridity proceeds from the\r\n aforementioned purgation, or if it arises from any of the\r\n aforementioned sins. For the making of this distinction I find that\r\n there are three principal signs.\r\n\r\n 2. The first is whether, when a soul finds no pleasure or consolation\r\n in the things of God, it also fails to find it in any thing created;\r\n for, as God sets the soul in this dark night to the end that He may\r\n quench and purge its sensual desire, He allows it not to find\r\n attraction or sweetness in anything whatsoever. In such a case it may\r\n be considered very probable [63] that this aridity and insipidity\r\n proceed not from recently committed sins or imperfections. For, if this\r\n were so, the soul would feel in its nature some inclination or desire\r\n to taste other things than those of God; since, whenever the desire is\r\n allowed indulgence in any imperfection, it immediately feels inclined\r\n thereto, whether little or much, in proportion to the pleasure and the\r\n love that it has put into it. Since, however, this lack of enjoyment in\r\n things above or below might proceed from some indisposition or\r\n melancholy humour, which oftentimes makes it impossible for the soul to\r\n take pleasure in anything, it becomes necessary to apply the second\r\n sign and condition.\r\n\r\n 3. The second sign whereby a man may believe himself to be experiencing\r\n the said purgation is that the memory is ordinarily centred upon God,\r\n with painful care and solicitude, thinking that it is not serving God,\r\n but is backsliding, because it finds itself without sweetness in the\r\n things of God. And in such a case it is evident that this lack of\r\n sweetness and this aridity come not from weakness and lukewarmness; for\r\n it is the nature of lukewarmness not to care greatly or to have any\r\n inward solicitude for the things of God. There is thus a great\r\n difference between aridity and lukewarmness, for lukewarmness consists\r\n in great weakness and remissness in the will and in the spirit, without\r\n solicitude as to serving God; whereas purgative aridity is ordinarily\r\n accompanied by solicitude, with care and grief as I say, because the\r\n soul is not serving God. And, although this may sometimes be increased\r\n by melancholy or some other humour (as it frequently is), it fails not\r\n for that reason to produce a purgative effect upon the desire, since\r\n the desire is deprived of all pleasure and has its care centred upon\r\n God alone. For, when mere humour is the cause, it spends itself in\r\n displeasure and ruin of the physical nature, and there are none of\r\n those desires to sense God which belong to purgative aridity. When the\r\n cause is aridity, it is true that the sensual part of the soul has\r\n fallen low, and is weak and feeble in its actions, by reason of the\r\n little pleasure which it finds in them; but the spirit, on the other\r\n hand, is ready and strong.\r\n\r\n 4. For the cause of this aridity is that God transfers to the spirit\r\n the good things and the strength of the senses, which, since the soul's\r\n natural strength and senses are incapable of using them, remain barren,\r\n dry and empty. For the sensual part of a man has no capacity for that\r\n which is pure spirit, and thus, when it is the spirit that receives the\r\n pleasure, the flesh is left without savour and is too weak to perform\r\n any action. But the spirit, which all the time is being fed, goes\r\n forward in strength, and with more alertness and solicitude than\r\n before, in its anxiety not to fail God; and if it is not immediately\r\n conscious of spiritual sweetness and delight, but only of aridity and\r\n lack of sweetness, the reason for this is the strangeness of the\r\n exchange; for its palate has been accustomed to those other sensual\r\n pleasures upon which its eyes are still fixed, and, since the spiritual\r\n palate is not made ready or purged for such subtle pleasure, until it\r\n finds itself becoming prepared for it by means of this arid and dark\r\n night, it cannot experience spiritual pleasure and good, but only\r\n aridity and lack of sweetness, since it misses the pleasure which\r\n aforetime it enjoyed so readily.\r\n\r\n 5. These souls whom God is beginning to lead through these solitary\r\n places of the wilderness are like to the children of Israel, to whom in\r\n the wilderness God began to give food from Heaven, containing within\r\n itself all sweetness, and, as is there said, it turned to the savour\r\n which each one of them desired. But withal the children of Israel felt\r\n the lack of the pleasures and delights of the flesh and the onions\r\n which they had eaten aforetime in Egypt, the more so because their\r\n palate was accustomed to these and took delight in them, rather than in\r\n the delicate sweetness of the angelic manna; and they wept and sighed\r\n for the fleshpots even in the midst of the food of Heaven. [64] To such\r\n depths does the vileness of our desires descend that it makes us to\r\n long for our own wretched food [65] and to be nauseated by the\r\n indescribable [66] blessings of Heaven.\r\n\r\n 6. But, as I say, when these aridities proceed from the way of the\r\n purgation of sensual desire, although at first the spirit feels no\r\n sweetness, for the reasons that we have just given, it feels that it is\r\n deriving strength and energy to act from the substance which this\r\n inward food gives it, the which food is the beginning of a\r\n contemplation that is dark and arid to the senses; which contemplation\r\n is secret and hidden from the very person that experiences it; and\r\n ordinarily, together with the aridity and emptiness which it causes in\r\n the senses, it gives the soul an inclination and desire to be alone and\r\n in quietness, without being able to think of any particular thing or\r\n having the desire to do so. If those souls to whom this comes to pass\r\n knew how to be quiet at this time, and troubled not about performing\r\n any kind of action, whether inward or outward, neither had any anxiety\r\n about doing anything, then they would delicately experience this inward\r\n refreshment in that ease and freedom from care. So delicate is this\r\n refreshment that ordinarily, if a man have desire or care to experience\r\n it, he experiences it not; for, as I say, it does its work when the\r\n soul is most at ease and freest from care; it is like the air which, if\r\n one would close one's hand upon it, escapes.\r\n\r\n 7. In this sense we may understand that which the Spouse said to the\r\n Bride in the Songs, namely: Withdraw thine eyes from me, for they make\r\n me to soar aloft.' [67] For in such a way does God bring the soul into\r\n this state, and by so different a path does He lead it that, if it\r\n desires to work with its faculties, it hinders the work which God is\r\n doing in it rather than aids it; whereas aforetime it was quite the\r\n contrary. The reason is that, in this state of contemplation, which the\r\n soul enters when it forsakes meditation for the state of the\r\n proficient, it is God Who is now working in the soul; He binds its\r\n interior faculties, and allows it not to cling to the understanding,\r\n nor to have delight in the will, nor to reason with the memory. For\r\n anything that the soul can do of its own accord at this time serves\r\n only, as we have said, to hinder inward peace and the work which God is\r\n accomplishing in the spirit by means of that aridity of sense. And this\r\n peace, being spiritual and delicate, performs a work which is quiet and\r\n delicate, solitary, productive of peace and satisfaction [68] and far\r\n removed from all those earlier pleasures, which were very palpable and\r\n sensual. This is the peace which, says David, God speaks in the soul to\r\n the end that He may make it spiritual. [69] And this leads us to the\r\n third point.\r\n\r\n 8. The third sign whereby this purgation of sense may be recognized is\r\n that the soul can no longer meditate or reflect in the imaginative\r\n sphere of sense as it was wont, however much it may of itself endeavour\r\n to do so. For God now begins to communicate Himself to it, no longer\r\n through sense, as He did aforetime, by means of reflections which\r\n joined and sundered its knowledge, but by pure spirit, into which\r\n consecutive reflections enter not; but He communicates Himself to it by\r\n an act of simple contemplation, to which neither the exterior nor the\r\n interior senses of the lower part of the soul can attain. From this\r\n time forward, therefore, imagination and fancy can find no support in\r\n any meditation, and can gain no foothold by means thereof.\r\n\r\n 9. With regard to this third sign, it is to be understood that this\r\n embarrassment and dissatisfaction of the faculties proceed not from\r\n indisposition, for, when this is the case, and the indisposition, which\r\n never lasts for long, [70] comes to an end, the soul is able once\r\n again, by taking some trouble about the matter, to do what it did\r\n before, and the faculties find their wonted support. But in the\r\n purgation of the desire this is not so: when once the soul begins to\r\n enter therein, its inability to reflect with the faculties grows ever\r\n greater. For, although it is true that at first, and with some persons,\r\n the process is not as continuous as this, so that occasionally they\r\n fail to abandon their pleasures and reflections of sense (for perchance\r\n by reason of their weakness it was not fitting to wean them from these\r\n immediately), yet this inability grows within them more and more and\r\n brings the workings of sense to an end, if indeed they are to make\r\n progress, for those who walk not in the way of contemplation act very\r\n differently. For this night of aridities is not usually continuous in\r\n their senses. At times they have these aridities; at others they have\r\n them not. At times they cannot meditate; at others they can. For God\r\n sets them in this night only to prove them and to humble them, and to\r\n reform their desires, so that they go not nurturing in themselves a\r\n sinful gluttony in spiritual things. He sets them not there in order to\r\n lead them in the way of the spirit, which is this contemplation; for\r\n not all those who walk of set purpose in the way of the spirit are\r\n brought by God to contemplation, nor even the half of them--why, He\r\n best knows. And this is why He never completely weans the senses of\r\n such persons from the breasts of meditations and reflections, but only\r\n for short periods and at certain seasons, as we have said.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [63] [Lit., And in this it is known very probably.']\r\n\r\n [64] Numbers xi, 5-6.\r\n\r\n [65] [Lit., makes us to desire our miseries.']\r\n\r\n [66] [Lit., incommunicable.']\r\n\r\n [67] Canticles vi, 4 [A.V., vi, 5].\r\n\r\n [68] [Lit., 'satisfactory and pacific.']\r\n\r\n [69] Psalm lxxxiv, 9 [A.V., lxxxv, 8].\r\n\r\n [70] [The stress here is evidently on the transience of the distempers\r\n whether they be moral or physical.]\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER X\r\n\r\n Of the way in which these souls are to conduct themselves in this\r\n dark night.\r\n\r\n DURING the time, then, of the aridities of this night of sense (wherein\r\n God effects the change of which we have spoken above, drawing forth the\r\n soul from the life of sense into that of the spirit--that is, from\r\n meditation to contemplation--wherein it no longer has any power to work\r\n or to reason with its faculties concerning the things of God, as has\r\n been said), spiritual persons suffer great trials, by reason not so\r\n much of the aridities which they suffer, as of the fear which they have\r\n of being lost on the road, thinking that all spiritual blessing is over\r\n for them and that God has abandoned them since they find no help or\r\n pleasure in good things. Then they grow weary, and endeavour (as they\r\n have been accustomed to do) to concentrate their faculties with some\r\n degree of pleasure upon some object of meditation, thinking that, when\r\n they are not doing this and yet are conscious of making an effort, they\r\n are doing nothing. This effort they make not without great inward\r\n repugnance and unwillingness on the part of their soul, which was\r\n taking pleasure in being in that quietness and ease, instead of working\r\n with its faculties. So they have abandoned the one pursuit, [71] yet\r\n draw no profit from the other; for, by seeking what is prompted by\r\n their own spirit, [72] they lose the spirit of tranquillity and peace\r\n which they had before. And thus they are like to one who abandons what\r\n he has done in order to do it over again, or to one who leaves a city\r\n only to re-enter it, or to one who is hunting and lets his prey go in\r\n order to hunt it once more. This is useless here, for the soul will\r\n gain nothing further by conducting itself in this way, as has been\r\n said.\r\n\r\n 2. These souls turn back at such a time if there is none who\r\n understands them; they abandon the road or lose courage; or, at the\r\n least, they are hindered from going farther by the great trouble which\r\n they take in advancing along the road of meditation and reasoning. Thus\r\n they fatigue and overwork their nature, imagining that they are failing\r\n through negligence or sin. But this trouble that they are taking is\r\n quite useless, for God is now leading them by another road, which is\r\n that of contemplation, and is very different from the first; for the\r\n one is of meditation and reasoning, and the other belongs neither to\r\n imagination nor yet to reasoning.\r\n\r\n 3. It is well for those who find themselves in this condition to take\r\n comfort, to persevere in patience and to be in no wise afflicted. Let\r\n them trust in God, Who abandons not those that seek Him with a simple\r\n and right heart, and will not fail to give them what is needful for the\r\n road, until He bring them into the clear and pure light of love. This\r\n last He will give them by means of that other dark night, that of the\r\n spirit, if they merit His bringing them thereto.\r\n\r\n 4. The way in which they are to conduct themselves in this night of\r\n sense is to devote themselves not at all to reasoning and meditation,\r\n since this is not the time for it, but to allow the soul to remain in\r\n peace and quietness, although it may seem clear to them that they are\r\n doing nothing and are wasting their time, and although it may appear to\r\n them that it is because of their weakness that they have no desire in\r\n that state to think of anything. The truth is that they will be doing\r\n quite sufficient if they have patience and persevere in prayer without\r\n making any effort. [73] What they must do is merely to leave the soul\r\n free and disencumbered and at rest from all knowledge and thought,\r\n troubling not themselves, in that state, about what they shall think or\r\n meditate upon, but contenting themselves with merely a peaceful and\r\n loving attentiveness toward God, and in being without anxiety, without\r\n the ability and without desired to have experience of Him or to\r\n perceive Him. For all these yearnings disquiet and distract the soul\r\n from the peaceful quiet and sweet ease of contemplation which is here\r\n granted to it.\r\n\r\n 5. And although further scruples may come to them--that they are\r\n wasting their time, and that it would be well for them to do something\r\n else, because they can neither do nor think anything in prayer--let\r\n them suffer these scruples and remain in peace, as there is no question\r\n save of their being at ease and having freedom of spirit. For if such a\r\n soul should desire to make any effort of its own with its interior\r\n faculties, this means that it will hinder and lose the blessings which,\r\n by means of that peace and ease of the soul, God is instilling into it\r\n and impressing upon it. It is just as if some painter were painting or\r\n dyeing a face; if the sitter were to move because he desired to do\r\n something, he would prevent the painter from accomplishing anything and\r\n would disturb him in what he was doing. And thus, when the soul desires\r\n to remain in inward ease and peace, any operation and affection or\r\n attentions wherein it may then seek to indulge [74] will distract it\r\n and disquiet it and make it conscious of aridity and emptiness of\r\n sense. For the more a soul endeavours to find support in affection and\r\n knowledge, the more will it feel the lack of these, which cannot now be\r\n supplied to it upon that road.\r\n\r\n 6. Wherefore it behoves such a soul to pay no heed if the operations of\r\n its faculties become lost to it; it is rather to desire that this\r\n should happen quickly. For, by not hindering the operation of infused\r\n contemplation that God is bestowing upon it, it can receive this with\r\n more peaceful abundance, and cause its spirit to be enkindled and to\r\n burn with the love which this dark and secret contemplation brings with\r\n it and sets firmly in the soul. For contemplation is naught else than a\r\n secret, peaceful and loving infusion from God, which, if it be\r\n permitted, enkindles the soul with the spirit of love, according as the\r\n soul declares in the next lines, namely:\r\n\r\nKindled in love with yearnings.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [71] [Lit., spoiling themselves in the one.']\r\n\r\n [72] [Lit., because they seek their spirit.']\r\n\r\n [73] [Lit., without doing anything themselves.']\r\n\r\n [74] [Lit., which it may then wish to have.']\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XI\r\n\r\n Wherein are expounded the three lines of the stanza.\r\n\r\n THIS enkindling of love is not as a rule felt at the first, because it\r\n has not begun to take hold upon the soul, by reason of the impurity of\r\n human nature, or because the soul has not understood its own state, as\r\n we have said, and has therefore given it no peaceful abiding-place\r\n within itself. Yet sometimes, nevertheless, there soon begins to make\r\n itself felt a certain yearning toward God; and the more this increases,\r\n the more is the soul affectioned and enkindled in love toward God,\r\n without knowing or understanding how and whence this love and affection\r\n come to it, but from time to time seeing this flame and this enkindling\r\n grow so greatly within it that it desires God with yearning of love;\r\n even as David, when he was in this dark night, said of himself in these\r\n words, [75] namely: Because my heart was enkindled (that is to say, in\r\n love of contemplation), my reins also were changed': that is, my\r\n desires for sensual affections were changed, namely from the way of\r\n sense to the way of the spirit, which is the aridity and cessation from\r\n all these things whereof we are speaking. And I, he says, was dissolved\r\n in nothing and annihilated, and I knew not; for, as we have said,\r\n without knowing the way whereby it goes, the soul finds itself\r\n annihilated with respect to all things above and below which were\r\n accustomed to please it; and it finds itself enamoured, without knowing\r\n how. And because at times the enkindling of love in the spirit grows\r\n greater, the yearnings for God become so great in the soul that the\r\n very bones seem to be dried up by this thirst, and the natural powers\r\n to be fading away, and their warmth and strength to be perishing\r\n through the intensity [76] of the thirst of love, for the soul feels\r\n that this thirst of love is a living thirst. This thirst David had and\r\n felt, when he said: My soul thirsted for the living God.' [77] Which is\r\n as much as to say: A living thirst was that of my soul. Of this thirst,\r\n since it is living, we may say that it kills. But it is to be noted\r\n that the vehemence of this thirst is not continuous, but occasional\r\n although as a rule the soul is accustomed to feel it to a certain\r\n degree.\r\n\r\n 2. But it must be noted that, as I began to say just now, this love is\r\n not as a rule felt at first, but only the dryness and emptiness are\r\n felt whereof we are speaking. Then in place of this love which\r\n afterwards becomes gradually enkindled, what the soul experiences in\r\n the midst of these aridities and emptinesses of the faculties is an\r\n habitual care and solicitude with respect to God, together with grief\r\n and fear that it is not serving Him. But it is a sacrifice which is not\r\n a little pleasing to God that the soul should go about afflicted and\r\n solicitous for His love. This solicitude and care leads the soul into\r\n that secret contemplation, until, the senses (that is, the sensual\r\n part) having in course of time been in some degree purged of the\r\n natural affections and powers by means of the aridities which it causes\r\n within them, this Divine love begins to be enkindled in the spirit.\r\n Meanwhile, however, like one who has begun a cure, the soul knows only\r\n suffering in this dark and arid purgation of the desire; by this means\r\n it becomes healed of many imperfections, and exercises itself in many\r\n virtues in order to make itself meet for the said love, as we shall now\r\n say with respect to the line following:\r\n\r\nOh, happy chance!\r\n\r\n 3. When God leads the soul into this night of sense in order to purge\r\n the sense of its lower part and to subdue it, unite it and bring it\r\n into conformity with the spirit, by setting it in darkness and causing\r\n it to cease from meditation (as He afterwards does in order to purify\r\n the spirit to unite it with God, as we shall afterwards say), He brings\r\n it into the night of the spirit, and (although it appears not so to it)\r\n the soul gains so many benefits that it holds it to be a happy chance\r\n to have escaped from the bonds and restrictions of the senses of or its\r\n lower self, by means of this night aforesaid; and utters the present\r\n line, namely: Oh, happy chance! With respect to this, it behoves us\r\n here to note the benefits which the soul finds in this night, and\r\n because of which it considers it a happy chance to have passed through\r\n it; all of which benefits the soul includes in the next line, namely:\r\n\r\nI went forth without being observed.\r\n\r\n 4. This going forth is understood of the subjection to its sensual part\r\n which the soul suffered when it sought God through operations so weak,\r\n so limited and so defective as are those of this lower part; for at\r\n every step it stumbled into numerous imperfections and ignorances, as\r\n we have noted above in writing of the seven capital sins. From all\r\n these it is freed when this night quenches within it all pleasures,\r\n whether from above or from below, and makes all meditation darkness to\r\n it, and grants it other innumerable blessings in the acquirement of the\r\n virtues, as we shall now show. For it will be a matter of great\r\n pleasure and great consolation, to one that journeys on this road, to\r\n see how that which seems to the soul so severe and adverse, and so\r\n contrary to spiritual pleasure, works in it so many blessings. These,\r\n as we say, are gained when the soul goes forth, as regards its\r\n affection and operation, by means of this night, from all created\r\n things, and when it journeys to eternal things, which is great\r\n happiness and good fortune: [78] first, because of the great blessing\r\n which is in the quenching of the desire and affection with respect to\r\n all things; secondly, because they are very few that endure and\r\n persevere in entering by this strait gate and by the narrow way which\r\n leads to life, as says Our Saviour. [79] The strait gate is this night\r\n of sense, and the soul detaches itself from sense and strips itself\r\n thereof that it may enter by this gate, and establishes itself in\r\n faith, which is a stranger to all sense, so that afterwards it may\r\n journey by the narrow way, which is the other night--that of the\r\n spirit--and this the soul afterwards enters in order in journey to God\r\n in pure faith, which is the means whereby the soul is united to God. By\r\n this road, since it is so narrow, dark and terrible (though there is no\r\n comparison between this night of sense and that other, in its darkness\r\n and trials, as we shall say later), they are far fewer that journey,\r\n but its benefits are far greater without comparison than those of this\r\n present night. Of these benefits we shall now begin to say something,\r\n with such brevity as is possible, in order that we may pass to the\r\n other night.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [75] Psalm lxxii, 21 [A.V., lxxiii, 21-2].\r\n\r\n [76] [Lit., livingness': cf. the quotation below.]\r\n\r\n [77] Psalm xli, 3 [A.V., xlii, 2].\r\n\r\n [78] [Lit., and chance': the same word as in the verse-line above.]\r\n\r\n [79] St. Matthew vii, 14.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XII\r\n\r\n Of the benefits which this night causes in the soul.\r\n\r\n THIS night and purgation of the desire, a happy one for the soul, works\r\n in it so many blessings and benefits (although to the soul, as we have\r\n said, it rather seems that blessings are being taken away from it)\r\n that, even as Abraham made a great feast when he weaned his son Isaac,\r\n [80] even so is there joy in Heaven because God is now taking this soul\r\n from its swaddling clothes, setting it down from His arms, making it to\r\n walk upon its feet, and likewise taking from it the milk of the breast\r\n and the soft and sweet food proper to children, and making it to eat\r\n bread with crust, and to begin to enjoy the food of robust persons.\r\n This food, in these aridities and this darkness of sense, is now given\r\n to the spirit, which is dry and emptied of all the sweetness of sense.\r\n And this food is the infused contemplation whereof we have spoken.\r\n\r\n 2. This is the first and principal benefit caused by this arid and dark\r\n night of contemplation: the knowledge of oneself and of one's misery.\r\n For, besides the fact that all the favours which God grants to the soul\r\n are habitually granted to them enwrapped in this knowledge, these\r\n aridities and this emptiness of the faculties, compared with the\r\n abundance which the soul experienced aforetime and the difficulty which\r\n it finds in good works, make it recognize its own lowliness and misery,\r\n which in the time of its prosperity it was unable to see. Of this there\r\n is a good illustration in the Book of Exodus, where God, wishing to\r\n humble the children of Israel and desiring that they should know\r\n themselves, commanded them to take away and strip off the festal\r\n garments and adornments wherewith they were accustomed to adorn\r\n themselves in the Wilderness, saying: Now from henceforth strip\r\n yourselves of festal ornaments and put on everyday working dress, that\r\n ye may know what treatment ye deserve.' [81] This is as though He had\r\n said: Inasmuch as the attire that ye wear, being proper to festival and\r\n rejoicing, causes you to feel less humble concerning yourselves than ye\r\n should, put off from you this attire, in order that henceforth, seeing\r\n yourselves clothed with vileness, ye may know that ye merit no more,\r\n and may know who ye are. Wherefore the soul knows the truth that it\r\n knew not at first, concerning its own misery; for, at the time when it\r\n was clad as for a festival and found in God much pleasure, consolation\r\n and support, it was somewhat more satisfied and contented, since it\r\n thought itself to some extent to be serving God. It is true that such\r\n souls may not have this idea explicitly in their minds; but some\r\n suggestion of it at least is implanted in them by the satisfaction\r\n which they find in their pleasant experiences. But, now that the soul\r\n has put on its other and working attire--that of aridity and\r\n abandonment--and now that its first lights have turned into darkness,\r\n it possesses these lights more truly in this virtue of self-knowledge,\r\n which is so excellent and so necessary, considering itself now as\r\n nothing and experiencing no satisfaction in itself; for it sees that it\r\n does nothing of itself neither can do anything. And the smallness of\r\n this self-satisfaction, together with the soul's affliction at not\r\n serving God, is considered and esteemed by God as greater than all the\r\n consolations which the soul formerly experienced and the works which it\r\n wrought, however great they were, inasmuch as they were the occasion of\r\n many imperfections and ignorances. And from this attire of aridity\r\n proceed, as from their fount and source of self-knowledge, not only the\r\n things which we have described already, but also the benefits which we\r\n shall now describe and many more which will have to be omitted.\r\n\r\n 3. In the first place, the soul learns to commune with God with more\r\n respect and more courtesy, such as a soul must ever observe in converse\r\n with the Most High. These it knew not in its prosperous times of\r\n comfort and consolation, for that comforting favour which it\r\n experienced made its craving for God somewhat bolder than was fitting,\r\n and discourteous and ill-considered. Even so did it happen to Moses,\r\n when he perceived that God was speaking to him; blinded by that\r\n pleasure and desire, without further consideration, he would have made\r\n bold to go to Him if God had not commanded him to stay and put off his\r\n shoes. By this incident we are shown the respect and discretion in\r\n detachment of desire wherewith a man is to commune with God. When Moses\r\n had obeyed in this matter, he became so discreet and so attentive that\r\n the Scripture says that not only did he not make bold to draw near to\r\n God, but that he dared not even look at Him. For, having taken off the\r\n shoes of his desires and pleasures, he became very conscious of his\r\n wretchedness in the sight of God, as befitted one about to hear the\r\n word of God. Even so likewise the preparation which God granted to Job\r\n in order that he might speak with Him consisted not in those delights\r\n and glories which Job himself reports that he was wont to have in his\r\n God, but in leaving him naked upon a dung-hill, [82] abandoned and even\r\n persecuted by his friends, filled with anguish and bitterness, and the\r\n earth covered with worms. And then the Most High God, He that lifts up\r\n the poor man from the dunghill, was pleased to come down and speak with\r\n him there face to face, revealing to him the depths and heights [83] of\r\n His wisdom, in a way that He had never done in the time of his\r\n prosperity.\r\n\r\n 4. And here we must note another excellent benefit which there is in\r\n this night and aridity of the desire of sense, since we have had\r\n occasion to speak of it. It is that, in this dark night of the desire\r\n (to the end that the words of the Prophet may be fulfilled, namely: Thy\r\n light shall shine in the darkness' [84] ), God will enlighten the soul,\r\n giving it knowledge, not only of its lowliness and wretchedness, as we\r\n have said, but likewise of the greatness and excellence of God. For, as\r\n well as quenching the desires and pleasures and attachments of sense,\r\n He cleanses and frees the understanding that it may understand the\r\n truth; for pleasure of sense and desire, even though it be for\r\n spiritual things, darkens and obstructs the spirit, and furthermore\r\n that straitness and aridity of sense enlightens and quickens the\r\n understanding, as says Isaias. [85] Vexation makes us to understand how\r\n the soul that is empty and disencumbered, as is necessary for His\r\n Divine influence, is instructed supernaturally by God in His Divine\r\n wisdom, through this dark and arid night of contemplation, [86] as we\r\n have said; and this instruction God gave not in those first sweetnesses\r\n and joys.\r\n\r\n 5. This is very well explained by the same prophet Isaias, where he\r\n says: Whom shall God teach His knowledge, and whom shall He make to\r\n understand the hearing?' To those, He says, that are weaned from the\r\n milk and drawn away from the breasts. [87] Here it is shown that the\r\n first milk of spiritual sweetness is no preparation for this Divine\r\n influence, neither is there preparation in attachment to the breast of\r\n delectable meditations, belonging to the faculties of sense, which gave\r\n the soul pleasure; such preparation consists rather in the lack of the\r\n one and withdrawal from the other. Inasmuch as, in order to listen to\r\n God, the soul needs to stand upright and to be detached, with regard to\r\n affection and sense, even as the Prophet says concerning himself, in\r\n these words: I will stand upon my watch (this is that detachment of\r\n desire) and I will make firm my step (that is, I will not meditate with\r\n sense), in order to contemplate (that is, in order to understand that\r\n which may come to me from God). [88] So we have now arrived at this,\r\n that from this arid night there first of all comes self-knowledge,\r\n whence, as from a foundation, rises this other knowledge of God. For\r\n which cause Saint Augustine said to God: Let me know myself, Lord, and\r\n I shall know Thee.' [89] For, as the philosophers say, one extreme can\r\n be well known by another.\r\n\r\n 6. And in order to prove more completely how efficacious is this night\r\n of sense, with its aridity and its desolation, in bringing the soul\r\n that light which, as we say, it receives there from God, we shall quote\r\n that passage of David, wherein he clearly describes the great power\r\n which is in this night for bringing the soul this lofty knowledge of\r\n God. He says, then, thus: In the desert land, waterless, dry and\r\n pathless, I appeared before Thee, that I might see Thy virtue and Thy\r\n glory.' [90] It is a wondrous thing that David should say here that the\r\n means and the preparation for his knowledge of the glory of God were\r\n not the spiritual delights and the many pleasures which he had\r\n experienced, but the aridities and detachments of his sensual nature,\r\n which is here to be understood by the dry and desert land. No less\r\n wondrous is it that he should describe as the road to his perception\r\n and vision of the virtue of God, not the Divine meditations and\r\n conceptions of which he had often made use, but his being unable to\r\n form any conception of God or to walk by meditation produced by\r\n imaginary consideration, which is here to be understood by the pathless\r\n land. So that the means to a knowledge of God and of oneself is this\r\n dark night with its aridities and voids, although it leads not to a\r\n knowledge of Him of the same plenitude and abundance that comes from\r\n the other night of the spirit, since this is only, as it were, the\r\n beginning of that other.\r\n\r\n 7. Likewise, from the aridities and voids of this night of the desire,\r\n the soul draws spiritual humility, which is the contrary virtue to the\r\n first capital sin, which, as we said, is spiritual pride. Through this\r\n humility, which is acquired by the said knowledge of self, the soul is\r\n purged from all those imperfections whereinto it fell with respect to\r\n that sin of pride, in the time of its prosperity. For it sees itself so\r\n dry and miserable that the idea never even occurs to it that it is\r\n making better progress than others, or outstripping them, as it\r\n believed itself to be doing before. On the contrary, it recognizes that\r\n others are making better progress than itself.\r\n\r\n 8. And hence arises the love of its neighbours, for it esteems them,\r\n and judges them not as it was wont to do aforetime, when it saw that\r\n itself had great fervour and others not so. It is aware only of its own\r\n wretchedness, which it keeps before its eyes to such an extent that it\r\n never forgets it, nor takes occasion to set its eyes on anyone else.\r\n This was described wonderfully by David, when he was in this night, in\r\n these words: I was dumb and was humbled and kept silence from good\r\n things and my sorrow was renewed.' [91] This he says because it seemed\r\n to him that the good that was in his soul had so completely departed\r\n that not only did he neither speak nor find any language concerning it,\r\n but with respect to the good of others he was likewise dumb because of\r\n his grief at the knowledge of his misery.\r\n\r\n 9. In this condition, again, souls become submissive and obedient upon\r\n the spiritual road, for, when they see their own misery, not only do\r\n they hear what is taught them, but they even desire that anyone soever\r\n may set them on the way and tell them what they ought to do. The\r\n affective presumption which they sometimes had in their prosperity is\r\n taken from them; and finally, there are swept away from them on this\r\n road all the other imperfections which we noted above with respect to\r\n this first sin, which is spiritual pride.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [80] Genesis xxi, 8.\r\n\r\n [81] Exodus xxxiii, 5.\r\n\r\n [82] [Job ii, 7-8].\r\n\r\n [83] [Lit., the deep heights.']\r\n\r\n [84] Isaias lviii, 10.\r\n\r\n [85] Isaias xxviii, 19. [The author omits the actual text.]\r\n\r\n [86] To translate this passage at all, we must read the Dios como of P.\r\n Silverio (p. 403, 1. 20), which is also found in P. Gerardo and\r\n elsewhere, as como Dios.\r\n\r\n [87] Isaias xxviii, 9.\r\n\r\n [88] Habacuc ii, 1.\r\n\r\n [89] St. Augustine: Soliloq., Cap. ii.\r\n\r\n [90] Psalm lxii, 3 [A.V., lxiii, 1-2].\r\n\r\n [91] Psalm xxxviii, 3 [A.V., xxxix, 2].\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XIII\r\n\r\n Of other benefits which this night of sense causes in the soul.\r\n\r\n WITH respect to the soul's imperfections of spiritual avarice, because\r\n of which it coveted this and that spiritual thing and found no\r\n satisfaction in this and that exercise by reason of its covetousness\r\n for the desire and pleasure which it found therein, this arid and dark\r\n night has now greatly reformed it. For, as it finds not the pleasure\r\n and sweetness which it was wont to find, but rather finds affliction\r\n and lack of sweetness, it has such moderate recourse to them that it\r\n might possibly now lose, through defective use, what aforetime it lost\r\n through excess; although as a rule God gives to those whom He leads\r\n into this night humility and readiness, albeit with lack of sweetness,\r\n so that what is commanded them they may do for God's sake alone; and\r\n thus they no longer seek profit in many things because they find no\r\n pleasure in them.\r\n\r\n 2. With respect to spiritual luxury, it is likewise clearly seen that,\r\n through this aridity and lack of sensible sweetness which the soul\r\n finds in spiritual things, it is freed from those impurities which we\r\n there noted; for we said that, as a rule, they proceeded from the\r\n pleasure which overflowed from spirit into sense.\r\n\r\n 3. But with regard to the imperfections from which the soul frees\r\n itself in this dark night with respect to the fourth sin, which is\r\n spiritual gluttony, they may be found above, though they have not all\r\n been described there, because they are innumerable; and thus I will not\r\n detail them here, for I would fain make an end of this night in order\r\n to pass to the next, concerning which we shall have to pronounce grave\r\n words and instructions. Let it suffice for the understanding of the\r\n innumerable benefits which, over and above those mentioned, the soul\r\n gains in this night with respect to this sin of spiritual gluttony, to\r\n say that it frees itself from all those imperfections which have there\r\n been described, and from many other and greater evils, and vile\r\n abominations which are not written above, into which fell many of whom\r\n we have had experience, because they had not reformed their desire as\r\n concerning this inordinate love of spiritual sweetness. For in this\r\n arid and dark night wherein He sets the soul, God has restrained its\r\n concupiscence and curbed its desire so that the soul cannot feed upon\r\n any pleasure or sweetness of sense, whether from above or from below;\r\n and this He continues to do after such manner that the soul is\r\n subjected, reformed and repressed with respect to concupiscence and\r\n desire. It loses the strength of its passions and concupiscence and it\r\n becomes sterile, because it no longer consults its likings. Just as,\r\n when none is accustomed to take milk from the breast, the courses of\r\n the milk are dried up, so the desires of the soul are dried up. And\r\n besides these things there follow admirable benefits from this\r\n spiritual sobriety, for, when desire and concupiscence are quenched,\r\n the soul lives in spiritual tranquillity and peace; for, where desire\r\n and concupiscence reign not, there is no disturbance, but peace and\r\n consolation of God.\r\n\r\n 4. From this there arises another and a second benefit, which is that\r\n the soul habitually has remembrance of God, with fear and dread of\r\n backsliding upon the spiritual road, as has been said. This is a great\r\n benefit, and not one of the least that results from this aridity and\r\n purgation of the desire, for the soul is purified and cleansed of the\r\n imperfections that were clinging to it because of the desires and\r\n affections, which of their own accord deaden and darken the soul.\r\n\r\n 5. There is another very great benefit for the soul in this night,\r\n which is that it practices several virtues together, as, for example,\r\n patience and longsuffering, which are often called upon in these times\r\n of emptiness and aridity, when the soul endures and perseveres in its\r\n spiritual exercises without consolation and without pleasure. It\r\n practises the charity of God, since it is not now moved by the pleasure\r\n of attraction and sweetness which it finds in its work, but only by\r\n God. It likewise practises here the virtue of fortitude, because, in\r\n these difficulties and insipidities which it finds in its work, it\r\n brings strength out of weakness and thus becomes strong. All the\r\n virtues, in short--the theological and also the cardinal and\r\n moral--both in body and in spirit, are practised by the soul in these\r\n times of aridity.\r\n\r\n 6. And that in this night the soul obtains these four benefits which we\r\n have here described (namely, delight of peace, habitual remembrance and\r\n thought of God, cleanness and purity of soul and the practice of the\r\n virtues which we have just described), David tells us, having\r\n experienced it himself when he was in this night, in these words: My\r\n soul refused consolations, I had remembrance of God, I found\r\n consolation and was exercised and my spirit failed.' [92] And he then\r\n says: And I meditated by night with my heart and was exercised, and I\r\n swept and purified my spirit'--that is to say, from all the affections.\r\n [93]\r\n\r\n 7. With respect to the imperfections of the other three spiritual sins\r\n which we have described above, which are wrath, envy and sloth, the\r\n soul is purged hereof likewise in this aridity of the desire and\r\n acquires the virtues opposed to them; for, softened and humbled by\r\n these aridities and hardships and other temptations and trials wherein\r\n God exercises it during this night, it becomes meek with respect to\r\n God, and to itself, and likewise with respect to its neighbour. So that\r\n it is no longer disturbed and angry with itself because of its own\r\n faults, nor with its neighbour because of his, neither is it displeased\r\n with God, nor does it utter unseemly complaints because He does not\r\n quickly make it holy.\r\n\r\n 8. Then, as to envy, the soul has charity toward others in this respect\r\n also; for, if it has any envy, this is no longer a vice as it was\r\n before, when it was grieved because others were preferred to it and\r\n given greater advantage. Its grief now comes from seeing how great is\r\n its own misery, and its envy (if it has any) is a virtuous envy, since\r\n it desires to imitate others, which is great virtue.\r\n\r\n 9. Neither are the sloth and the irksomeness which it now experiences\r\n concerning spiritual things vicious as they were before. For in the\r\n past these sins proceeded from the spiritual pleasures which the soul\r\n sometimes experienced and sought after when it found them not. But this\r\n new weariness proceeds not from this insuffficiency of pleasure,\r\n because God has taken from the soul pleasure in all things in this\r\n purgation of the desire.\r\n\r\n 10. Besides these benefits which have been mentioned, the soul attains\r\n innumerable others by means of this arid contemplation. For often, in\r\n the midst of these times of aridity and hardship, God communicates to\r\n the soul, when it is least expecting it, the purest spiritual sweetness\r\n and love, together with a spiritual knowledge which is sometimes very\r\n delicate, each manifestation of which is of greater benefit and worth\r\n than those which the soul enjoyed aforetime; although in its beginnings\r\n the soul thinks that this is not so, for the spiritual influence now\r\n granted to it is very delicate and cannot be perceived by sense.\r\n\r\n 11. Finally, inasmuch as the soul is now purged from the affections and\r\n desires of sense, it obtains liberty of spirit, whereby in ever greater\r\n degree it gains the twelve fruits of the Holy Spirit. Here, too, it is\r\n wondrously delivered from the hands of its three enemies--devil, world\r\n and flesh; for, its pleasure and delight of sense being quenched with\r\n respect to all things, neither the devil nor the world nor sensuality\r\n has any arms or any strength wherewith to make war upon the spirit.\r\n\r\n 12. These times of aridity, then, cause the soul to journey in all\r\n purity in the love of God, since it is no longer influenced in its\r\n actions by the pleasure and sweetness of the actions themselves, as\r\n perchance it was when it experienced sweetness, but only by a desire to\r\n please God. It becomes neither presumptuous nor self-satisfied, as\r\n perchance it was wont to become in the time of its prosperity, but\r\n fearful and timid with regard to itself, finding in itself no\r\n satisfaction whatsoever; and herein consists that holy fear which\r\n preserves and increases the virtues. This aridity, too, quenches\r\n natural energy and concupiscence, as has also been said. Save for the\r\n pleasure, indeed, which at certain times God Himself infuses into it,\r\n it is a wonder if it finds pleasure and consolation of sense, through\r\n its own diligence, in any spiritual exercise or action, as has already\r\n been said.\r\n\r\n 13. There grows within souls that experience this arid night concern\r\n for God and yearnings to serve Him, for in proportion as the breasts of\r\n sensuality, wherewith it sustained and nourished the desires that it\r\n pursued, are drying up, there remains nothing in that aridity and\r\n detachment save the yearning to serve God, which is a thing very\r\n pleasing to God. For, as David says, an afflicted spirit is a sacrifice\r\n to God. [94]\r\n\r\n 14. When the soul, then, knows that, in this arid purgation through\r\n which it has passed, it has derived and attained so many and such\r\n precious benefits as those which have here been described, it tarries\r\n not in crying, as in the stanza of which we are expounding the lines,\r\n Oh, happy chance!--I went forth without being observed.' That is, I\r\n went forth' from the bonds and subjection of the desires of sense and\r\n the affections, without being observed'--that is to say, without the\r\n three enemies aforementioned being able to keep me from it. These\r\n enemies, as we have said, bind the soul as with bonds, in its desires\r\n and pleasures, and prevent it from going forth from itself to the\r\n liberty of the love of God; and without these desires and pleasures\r\n they cannot give battle to the soul, as has been said.\r\n\r\n 15. When, therefore, the four passions of the soul--which are joy,\r\n grief, hope and fear--are calmed through continual mortification; when\r\n the natural desires have been lulled to sleep, in the sensual nature of\r\n the soul, by means of habitual times of aridity; and when the harmony\r\n of the senses and the interior faculties causes a suspension of labour\r\n and a cessation from the work of meditation, as we have said (which is\r\n the dwelling and the household of the lower part of the soul), these\r\n enemies cannot obstruct this spiritual liberty, and the house remains\r\n at rest and quiet, as says the following line:\r\n\r\n My house being now at rest.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [92] Psalm lxxvi, 4 [A.V., lxxvii, 3-4].\r\n\r\n [93] Psalm lxxvi, 7 [A.V., lxxvii, 6].\r\n\r\n [94] Psalm l, 19 [A.V., li, 17.]\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XIV\r\n\r\n Expounds this last line of the first stanza.\r\n\r\n WHEN this house of sensuality was now at rest--that is, was\r\n mortified--its passions being quenched and its desires put to rest and\r\n lulled to sleep by means of this blessed night of the purgation of\r\n sense, the soul went forth, to set out upon the road and way of the\r\n spirit, which is that of progressives and proficients, and which, by\r\n another name, is called the way of illumination or of infused\r\n contemplation, wherein God Himself feeds and refreshes the soul,\r\n without meditation, or the soul's active help. Such, as we have said,\r\n is the night and purgation of sense in the soul. In those who have\r\n afterwards to enter the other and more formidable night of the spirit,\r\n in order to pass to the Divine union of love of God (for not all pass\r\n habitually thereto, but only the smallest number), it is wont to be\r\n accompanied by formidable trials and temptations of sense, which last\r\n for a long time, albeit longer in some than in others. For to some the\r\n angel of Satan presents himself--namely, the spirit of\r\n fornication--that he may buffet their senses with abominable and\r\n violent temptations, and trouble their spirits with vile considerations\r\n and representations which are most visible to the imagination, which\r\n things at times are a greater affliction to them than death.\r\n\r\n 2. At other times in this night there is added to these things the\r\n spirit of blasphemy, which roams abroad, setting in the path of all the\r\n conceptions and thoughts of the soul intolerable blasphemies. These it\r\n sometimes suggests to the imagination with such violence that the soul\r\n almost utters them, which is a grave torment to it.\r\n\r\n 3. At other times another abominable spirit, which Isaias calls\r\n Spiritus vertiginis, [95] is allowed to molest them, not in order that\r\n they may fall, but that it may try them. This spirit darkens their\r\n senses in such a way that it fills them with numerous scruples and\r\n perplexities, so confusing that, as they judge, they can never, by any\r\n means, be satisfied concerning them, neither can they find any help for\r\n their judgment in counsel or thought. This is one of the severest goads\r\n and horrors of this night, very closely akin to that which passes in\r\n the night of the spirit.\r\n\r\n 4. As a rule these storms and trials are sent by God in this night and\r\n purgation of sense to those whom afterwards He purposes to lead into\r\n the other night (though not all reach it), to the end that, when they\r\n have been chastened and buffeted, they may in this way continually\r\n exercise and prepare themselves, and continually accustom their senses\r\n and faculties to the union of wisdom which is to be bestowed upon them\r\n in that other night. For, if the soul be not tempted, exercised and\r\n proved with trials and temptations, it cannot quicken its sense of\r\n Wisdom. For this reason it is said in Ecclesiasticus: He that has not\r\n been tempted, what does he know? And he that has not been proved, what\r\n are the things that he recognizes?' [96] To this truth Jeremias bears\r\n good witness, saying: Thou didst chastise me, Lord, and I was\r\n instructed.' [97] And the most proper form of this chastisement, for\r\n one who will enter into Wisdom, is that of the interior trials which we\r\n are here describing, inasmuch as it is these which most effectively\r\n purge sense of all favours and consolations to which it was affected,\r\n with natural weakness, and by which the soul is truly humiliated in\r\n preparation for the exaltation which it is to experience.\r\n\r\n 5. For how long a time the soul will be held in this fasting and\r\n penance of sense, cannot be said with any certainty; for all do not\r\n experience it after one manner, neither do all encounter the same\r\n temptations. For this is meted out by the will of God, in conformity\r\n with the greater or the smaller degree of imperfection which each soul\r\n has to purge away. In conformity, likewise, with the degree of love of\r\n union to which God is pleased to raise it, He will humble it with\r\n greater or less intensity or in greater or less time. Those who have\r\n the disposition and greater strength to suffer, He purges with greater\r\n intensity and more quickly. But those who are very weak are kept for a\r\n long time in this night, and these He purges very gently and with\r\n slight temptations. Habitually, too, He gives them refreshments of\r\n sense so that they may not fall away, and only after a long time do\r\n they attain to purity of perfection in this life, some of them never\r\n attaining to it at all. Such are neither properly in the night nor\r\n properly out of it; for, although they make no progress, yet, in order\r\n that they may continue in humility and self-knowledge, God exercises\r\n them for certain periods and at certain times [98] in those temptations\r\n and aridities; and at other times and seasons He assists them with\r\n consolations, lest they should grow faint and return to seek the\r\n consolations of the world. Other souls, which are weaker, God Himself\r\n accompanies, now appearing to them, now moving farther away, that He\r\n may exercise them in His love; for without such turnings away they\r\n would not learn to reach God.\r\n\r\n 6. But the souls which are to pass on to that happy and high estate,\r\n the union of love, are wont as a rule to remain for a long time in\r\n these aridities and temptations, however quickly God may lead them, as\r\n has been seen by experience. It is time, then, to begin to treat of the\r\n second night.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [95] [The 'spirit of giddiness' of D.V., and perverse spirit' of A.V.,\r\n Isaias xix, 14.]\r\n\r\n [96] Ecclesiasticus xxxiv, 9-10.\r\n\r\n [97] Jeremias xxxi, 18.\r\n\r\n [98] [Lit., for certain days.']\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [20] [More exactly: purificative.']\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n BOOK THE SECOND\r\n\r\nOf the Dark Night of the Spirit.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER I\r\n\r\n Which begins to treat of the dark nights of the spirit and says at\r\n what time it begins.\r\n\r\n THE soul which God is about to lead onward is not led by His Majesty\r\n into this night of the spirit as soon as it goes forth from the\r\n aridities and trials of the first purgation and night of sense; rather\r\n it is wont to pass a long time, even years, after leaving the state of\r\n beginners, in exercising itself in that of proficients. In this latter\r\n state it is like to one that has come forth from a rigorous\r\n imprisonment; [99] it goes about the things of God with much greater\r\n freedom and satisfaction of the soul, and with more abundant and inward\r\n delight than it did at the beginning before it entered the said night.\r\n For its imagination and faculties are no longer bound, as they were\r\n before, by meditation and anxiety of spirit, since it now very readily\r\n finds in its spirit the most serene and loving contemplation and\r\n spiritual sweetness without the labour of meditation; although, as the\r\n purgation of the soul is not complete (for the principal part thereof,\r\n which is that of the spirit, is wanting, without which, owing to the\r\n communication that exists between the one part and the other, [100]\r\n since the subject is one only, the purgation of sense, however violent\r\n it may have been, is not yet complete and perfect), it is never without\r\n certain occasional necessities, aridities, darknesses and perils which\r\n are sometimes much more intense than those of the past, for they are as\r\n tokens and heralds of the coming night of the spirit, and are not of as\r\n long duration as will be the night which is to come. For, having passed\r\n through a period, or periods, or days of this night and tempest, the\r\n soul soon returns to its wonted serenity; and after this manner God\r\n purges certain souls which are not to rise to so high a degree of love\r\n as are others, bringing them at times, and for short periods, into this\r\n night of contemplation and purgation of the spirit, causing night to\r\n come upon them and then dawn, and this frequently, so that the words of\r\n David may be fulfilled, that He sends His crystal--that is, His\r\n contemplation--like morsels, [101] although these morsels of dark\r\n contemplation are never as intense as is that terrible night of\r\n contemplation which we are to describe, into which, of set purpose, God\r\n brings the soul that He may lead it to Divine union.\r\n\r\n 2. This sweetness, then, and this interior pleasure which we are\r\n describing, and which these progressives find and experience in their\r\n spirits so easily and so abundantly, is communicated to them in much\r\n greater abundance than aforetime, overflowing into their senses more\r\n than was usual previously to this purgation of sense; for, inasmuch as\r\n the sense is now purer, it can more easily feel the pleasures of the\r\n spirit after its manner. As, however, this sensual part of the soul is\r\n weak and incapable of experiencing the strong things of the spirit, it\r\n follows that these proficients, by reason of this spiritual\r\n communication which is made to their sensual part endure therein many\r\n frailties and sufferings and weaknesses of the stomach, and in\r\n consequence are fatigued in spirit. For, as the Wise Man says: The\r\n corruptible body presseth down the soul.' [102] Hence comes it that the\r\n communications that are granted to these souls cannot be very strong or\r\n very intense or very spiritual, as is required for Divine union with\r\n God, by reason of the weakness and corruption of the sensual nature\r\n which has a part in them. Hence arise the raptures and trances and\r\n dislocations of the bones which always happen when the communications\r\n are not purely spiritual--that is, are not given to the spirit alone,\r\n as are those of the perfect who are purified by the second night of the\r\n spirit, and in whom these raptures and torments of the body no longer\r\n exist, since they are enjoying liberty of spirit, and their senses are\r\n now neither clouded nor transported.\r\n\r\n 3. And in order that the necessity for such souls to enter this night\r\n of the spirit may be understood, we will here note certain\r\n imperfections and perils which belong to these proficients.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [99] [Lit., from a narrow prison.']\r\n\r\n [100] [i.e., between sense and spirit.]\r\n\r\n [101] Psalm cxlvii, 17 [D.V. and A.V.].\r\n\r\n [102] Wisdom ix, 15.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER II\r\n\r\n Describes other imperfections [103] which belong to these\r\n proficients.\r\n\r\n THESE proficients have two kinds of imperfection: the one kind is\r\n habitual; the other actual. The habitual imperfections are the\r\n imperfect habits and affections which have remained all the time in the\r\n spirit, and are like roots, to which the purgation of sense has been\r\n unable to penetrate. The difference between the purgation of these and\r\n that of this other kind is the difference between the root and the\r\n branch, or between the removing of a stain which is fresh and one which\r\n is old and of long standing. For, as we said, the purgation of sense is\r\n only the entrance and beginning of contemplation leading to the\r\n purgation of the spirit, which, as we have likewise said, serves rather\r\n to accommodate sense to spirit than to unite spirit with God. But there\r\n still remain in the spirit the stains of the old man, although the\r\n spirit thinks not that this is so, neither can it perceive them; if\r\n these stains be not removed with the soap and strong lye of the\r\n purgation of this night, the spirit will be unable to come to the\r\n purity of Divine union.\r\n\r\n 2. These souls have likewise the hebetudo mentis [104] and the natural\r\n roughness which every man contracts through sin, and the distraction\r\n and outward clinging of the spirit, which must be enlightened, refined\r\n and recollected by the afflictions and perils of that night. These\r\n habitual imperfections belong to all those who have not passed beyond\r\n this state of the proficient; they cannot coexist, as we say, with the\r\n perfect state of union through love.\r\n\r\n 3. To actual imperfections all are not liable in the same way. Some,\r\n whose spiritual good is so superficial and so readily affected by\r\n sense, fall into greater difficulties and dangers, which we described\r\n at the beginning of this treatise. For, as they find so many and such\r\n abundant spiritual communications and apprehensions, both in sense and\r\n in spirit wherein they oftentimes see imaginary and spiritual visions\r\n (for all these things, together with other delectable feelings, come to\r\n many souls in this state, wherein the devil and their own fancy very\r\n commonly practise deceptions on them), and, as the devil is apt to take\r\n such pleasure in impressing upon the soul and suggesting to it the said\r\n apprehensions and feelings, he fascinates and deludes it with great\r\n ease unless it takes the precaution of resigning itself to God, and of\r\n protecting itself strongly, by means of faith, from all these visions\r\n and feelings. For in this state the devil causes many to believe in\r\n vain visions and false prophecies; and strives to make them presume\r\n that God and the saints are speaking with them; and they often trust\r\n their own fancy. And the devil is also accustomed, in this state, to\r\n fill them with presumption and pride, so that they become attracted by\r\n vanity and arrogance, and allow themselves to be seen engaging in\r\n outward acts which appear holy, such as raptures and other\r\n manifestations. Thus they become bold with God, and lose holy fear,\r\n which is the key and the custodian of all the virtues; and in some of\r\n these souls so many are the falsehoods and deceits which tend to\r\n multiply, and so inveterate do they grow, that it is very doubtful if\r\n such souls will return to the pure road of virtue and true\r\n spirituality. Into these miseries they fall because they are beginning\r\n to give themselves over to spiritual feelings and apprehensions with\r\n too great security, when they were beginning to make some progress upon\r\n the way.\r\n\r\n 4. There is much more that I might say of these imperfections and of\r\n how they are the more incurable because such souls consider them to be\r\n more spiritual than the others, but I will leave this subject. I shall\r\n only add, in order to prove how necessary, for him that would go\r\n farther, is the night of the spirit, which is purgation, that none of\r\n these proficients, however strenuously he may have laboured, is free,\r\n at best, from many of those natural affections and imperfect habits,\r\n purification from which, we said, is necessary if a soul is to pass to\r\n Divine union.\r\n\r\n 5. And over and above this (as we have said already), inasmuch as the\r\n lower part of the soul still has a share in these spiritual\r\n communications, they cannot be as intense, as pure and as strong as is\r\n needful for the aforesaid union; wherefore, in order to come to this\r\n union, the soul must needs enter into the second night of the spirit,\r\n wherein it must strip sense and spirit perfectly from all these\r\n apprehensions and from all sweetness, and be made to walk in dark and\r\n pure faith, which is the proper and adequate means whereby the soul is\r\n united with God, according as Osee says, in these words: I will betroth\r\n thee--that is, I will unite thee--with Me through faith.' [105]\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [103] [Lit., Continues with other imperfections.']\r\n\r\n [104] [i.e., deadening of the mind.']\r\n\r\n [105] Osee ii, 20.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER III\r\n\r\n Annotation for that which follows.\r\n\r\n THESE souls, then, have now become proficients, because of the time\r\n which they have spent in feeding the senses with sweet communications,\r\n so that their sensual part, being thus attracted and delighted by\r\n spiritual pleasure, which came to it from the spirit, may be united\r\n with the spirit and made one with it; each part after its own manner\r\n eating of one and the same spiritual food and from one and the same\r\n dish, as one person and with one sole intent, so that thus they may in\r\n a certain way be united and brought into agreement, and, thus united,\r\n may be prepared for the endurance of the stern and severe purgation of\r\n the spirit which awaits them. In this purgation these two parts of the\r\n soul, the spiritual and the sensual, must be completely purged, since\r\n the one is never truly purged without the other, the purgation of sense\r\n becoming effective when that of the spirit has fairly begun. Wherefore\r\n the night which we have called that of sense may and should be called a\r\n kind of correction and restraint of the desire rather than purgation.\r\n The reason is that all the imperfections and disorders of the sensual\r\n part have their strength and root in the spirit, where all habits, both\r\n good and bad, are brought into subjection, and thus, until these are\r\n purged, the rebellions and depravities of sense cannot be purged\r\n thoroughly.\r\n\r\n 2. Wherefore, in this night following, both parts of the soul are\r\n purged together, and it is for this end that it is well to have passed\r\n through the corrections of the first night, and the period of\r\n tranquillity which proceeds from it, in order that, sense being united\r\n with spirit, both may be purged after a certain manner and may then\r\n suffer with greater fortitude. For very great fortitude is needful for\r\n so violent and severe a purgation, since, if the weakness of the lower\r\n part has not first been corrected and fortitude has not been gained\r\n from God through the sweet and delectable communion which the soul has\r\n afterwards enjoyed with Him, its nature will not have the strength or\r\n the disposition to bear it.\r\n\r\n 3. Therefore, since these proficients are still at a very low stage of\r\n progress, and follow their own nature closely in the intercourse and\r\n dealings which they have with God, because the gold of their spirit is\r\n not yet purified and refined, they still think of God as little\r\n children, and speak of God as little children, and feel and experience\r\n God as little children, even as Saint Paul says, [106] because they\r\n have not reached perfection, which is the union of the soul with God.\r\n In the state of union, however, they will work great things in the\r\n spirit, even as grown men, and their works and faculties will then be\r\n Divine rather than human, as will afterwards be said. To this end God\r\n is pleased to strip them of this old man and clothe them with the new\r\n man, who is created according to God, as the Apostle says, [107] in the\r\n newness of sense. He strips their faculties, affections and feelings,\r\n both spiritual and sensual, both outward and inward, leaving the\r\n understanding dark, the will dry, the memory empty and the affections\r\n in the deepest affliction, bitterness and constraint, taking from the\r\n soul the pleasure and experience of spiritual blessings which it had\r\n aforetime, in order to make of this privation one of the principles\r\n which are requisite in the spirit so that there may be introduced into\r\n it and united with it the spiritual form of the spirit, which is the\r\n union of love. All this the Lord works in the soul by means of a pure\r\n and dark contemplation, as the soul explains in the first stanza. This,\r\n although we originally interpreted it with reference to the first night\r\n of sense, is principally understood by the soul of this second night of\r\n the spirit, since this is the principal part of the purification of the\r\n soul. And thus we shall set it down and expound it here again in this\r\n sense.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [106] 1 Corinthians xiii, 11.\r\n\r\n [107] [Ephesians iv, 24.]\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER IV\r\n\r\n Sets down the first stanza and the exposition thereof.\r\n\r\n On a dark night, Kindled in love with yearnings--oh, happy chance!--\r\n I went forth without being observed, My house being now at rest.\r\n\r\nEXPOSITION\r\n\r\n INTERPRETING this stanza now with reference to purgation, contemplation\r\n or detachment or poverty of spirit, which here are almost one and the\r\n same thing, we can expound it after this manner and make the soul speak\r\n thus: In poverty, and without protection or support in all the\r\n apprehensions of my soul--that is, in the darkness of my understanding\r\n and the constraint of my will, in affliction and anguish with respect\r\n to memory, remaining in the dark in pure faith, which is dark night for\r\n the said natural faculties, the will alone being touched by grief and\r\n afflictions and yearnings for the love of God--I went forth from\r\n myself--that is, from my low manner of understanding, from my weak mode\r\n of loving and from my poor and limited manner of experiencing God,\r\n without being hindered therein by sensuality or the devil.\r\n\r\n 2. This was a great happiness and a good chance for me; for, when the\r\n faculties had been perfectly annihilated and calmed, together with the\r\n passions, desires and affections of my soul, wherewith I had\r\n experienced and tasted God after a lowly manner, I went forth from my\r\n own human dealings and operations to the operations and dealings of\r\n God. That is to say, my understanding went forth from itself, turning\r\n from the human and natural to the Divine; for, when it is united with\r\n God by means of this purgation, its understanding no longer comes\r\n through its natural light and vigour, but through the Divine Wisdom\r\n wherewith it has become united. And my will went forth from itself,\r\n becoming Divine; for, being united with Divine love, it no longer loves\r\n with its natural strength after a lowly manner, but with strength and\r\n purity from the Holy Spirit; and thus the will, which is now near to\r\n God, acts not after a human manner, and similarly the memory has become\r\n transformed into eternal apprehensions of glory. And finally, by means\r\n of this night and purgation of the old man, all the energies and\r\n affections of the soul are wholly renewed into a Divine temper and\r\n Divine delight.\r\n\r\n There follows the line:\r\n\r\n On a dark night.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER V\r\n\r\n Sets down the first line and begins to explain how this dark\r\n contemplation is not only night for the soul but is also grief and\r\n torment.\r\n\r\n THIS dark night is an inflowing of God into the soul, which purges it\r\n from its ignorances and imperfections, habitual natural and spiritual,\r\n and which is called by contemplatives infused contemplation, or\r\n mystical theology. Herein God secretly teaches the soul and instructs\r\n it in perfection of love without its doing anything, or understanding\r\n of what manner is this infused contemplation. Inasmuch as it is the\r\n loving wisdom of God, God produces striking effects in the soul for, by\r\n purging and illumining it, He prepares it for the union of love with\r\n God. Wherefore the same loving wisdom that purges the blessed spirits\r\n and enlightens them is that which here purges the soul and illumines\r\n it.\r\n\r\n 2. But the question arises: Why is the Divine light (which as we say,\r\n illumines and purges the soul from its ignorances) here called by the\r\n soul a dark night? To this the answer is that for two reasons this\r\n Divine wisdom is not only night and darkness for the soul, but is\r\n likewise affliction and torment. The first is because of the height of\r\n Divine Wisdom, which transcends the talent of the soul, and in this way\r\n is darkness to it; the second, because of its vileness and impurity, in\r\n which respect it is painful and afflictive to it, and is also dark.\r\n\r\n 3. In order to prove the first point, we must here assume a certain\r\n doctrine of the philosopher, which says that, the clearer and more\r\n manifest are Divine things in themselves the darker and more hidden are\r\n they to the soul naturally; just as, the clearer is the light, the more\r\n it blinds and darkens the pupil of the owl, and, the more directly we\r\n look at the sun, the greater is the darkness which it causes in our\r\n visual faculty, overcoming and overwhelming it through its own\r\n weakness. In the same way, when this Divine light of contemplation\r\n assails the soul which is not yet wholly enlightened, it causes\r\n spiritual darkness in it; for not only does it overcome it, but\r\n likewise it overwhelms it and darkens the act of its natural\r\n intelligence. For this reason Saint Dionysius and other mystical\r\n theologians call this infused contemplation a ray of darkness--that is\r\n to say, for the soul that is not enlightened and purged--for the\r\n natural strength of the intellect is transcended and overwhelmed by its\r\n great supernatural light. Wherefore David likewise said: That near to\r\n God and round about Him are darkness and cloud; [108] not that this is\r\n so in fact, but that it is so to our weak understanding, which is\r\n blinded and darkened by so vast a light, to which it cannot attain.\r\n [109] For this cause the same David then explained himself, saying:\r\n Through the great splendour of His presence passed clouds' [110] --that\r\n is, between God and our understanding. And it is for this cause that,\r\n when God sends it out from Himself to the soul that is not yet\r\n transformed, this illumining ray of His secret wisdom causes thick\r\n darkness in the understanding.\r\n\r\n 4. And it is clear that this dark contemplation is in these its\r\n beginnings painful likewise to the soul; for, as this Divine infused\r\n contemplation has many excellences that are extremely good, and the\r\n soul that receives them, not being purged, has many miseries that are\r\n likewise extremely bad, hence it follows that, as two contraries cannot\r\n coexist in one subject--the soul--it must of necessity have pain and\r\n suffering, since it is the subject wherein these two contraries war\r\n against each other, working the one against the other, by reason of the\r\n purgation of the imperfections of the soul which comes to pass through\r\n this contemplation. This we shall prove inductively in the manner\r\n following.\r\n\r\n 5. In the first place, because the light and wisdom of this\r\n contemplation is most bright and pure, and the soul which it assails is\r\n dark and impure, it follows that the soul suffers great pain when it\r\n receives it in itself, just as, when the eyes are dimmed by humours,\r\n and become impure and weak, the assault made upon them by a bright\r\n light causes them pain. And when the soul suffers the direct assault of\r\n this Divine light, its pain, which results from its impurity, is\r\n immense; because, when this pure light assails the soul, in order to\r\n expel its impurity, the soul feels itself to be so impure and miserable\r\n that it believes God to be against it, and thinks that it has set\r\n itself up against God. This causes it sore grief and pain, because it\r\n now believes that God has cast it away: this was one of the greatest\r\n trials which Job felt when God sent him this experience, and he said:\r\n Why hast Thou set me contrary to Thee, so that I am grievous and\r\n burdensome to myself?' [111] For, by means of this pure light, the soul\r\n now sees its impurity clearly (although darkly), and knows clearly that\r\n it is unworthy of God or of any creature. And what gives it most pain\r\n is that it thinks that it will never be worthy and that its good things\r\n are all over for it. This is caused by the profound immersion of its\r\n spirit in the knowledge and realization of its evils and miseries; for\r\n this Divine and dark light now reveals them all to the eye, that it may\r\n see clearly how in its own strength it can never have aught else. In\r\n this sense we may understand that passage from David, which says: For\r\n iniquity Thou hast corrected man and hast made his soul to be undone\r\n and consumed: he wastes away as the spider.' [112]\r\n\r\n 6. The second way in which the soul suffers pain is by reason of its\r\n weakness, natural, moral and spiritual; for, when this Divine\r\n contemplation assails the soul with a certain force, in order to\r\n strengthen it and subdue it, it suffers such pain in its weakness that\r\n it nearly swoons away. This is especially so at certain times when it\r\n is assailed with somewhat greater force; for sense and spirit, as if\r\n beneath some immense and dark load, are in such great pain and agony\r\n that the soul would find advantage and relief in death. This had been\r\n experienced by the prophet Job, when he said: I desire not that He\r\n should have intercourse with me in great strength, lest He oppress me\r\n with the weight of His greatness.' [113]\r\n\r\n 7. Beneath the power of this oppression and weight the soul feels\r\n itself so far from being favoured that it thinks, and correctly so,\r\n that even that wherein it was wont to find some help has vanished with\r\n everything else, and that there is none who has pity upon it. To this\r\n effect Job says likewise: Have pity upon me, have pity upon me, at\r\n least ye my friends, because the hand of the Lord has touched me.'\r\n [114] A thing of great wonder and pity is it that the soul's weakness\r\n and impurity should now be so great that, though the hand of God is of\r\n itself so light and gentle, the soul should now feel it to be so heavy\r\n and so contrary, [115] though it neither weighs it down nor rests upon\r\n it, but only touches it, and that mercifully, since He does this in\r\n order to grant the soul favours and not to chastise it.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [108] Psalm xcvi, 2 [A.V., xcvii, 2].\r\n\r\n [109] [Lit., not attaining.']\r\n\r\n [110] Psalm xvii, 13, [A.V., xviii, 12].\r\n\r\n [111] Job vii, 20.\r\n\r\n [112] Psalm xxxviii, 12 [A.V., xxxix, 11].\r\n\r\n [113] Job xxiii, 6.\r\n\r\n [114] Job xix, 21.\r\n\r\n [115] [There is a reference here to Job vii, 20: cf. sect. 5, above.]\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER VI\r\n\r\n Of other kinds of pain that the soul suffers in this night.\r\n\r\n THE third kind of suffering and pain that the soul endures in this\r\n state results from the fact that two other extremes meet here in one,\r\n namely, the Divine and the human. The Divine is this purgative\r\n contemplation, and the human is the subject--that is, the soul. The\r\n Divine assails the soul in order to renew it and thus to make it\r\n Divine; and, stripping it of the habitual affections and attachments of\r\n the old man, to which it is very closely united, knit together and\r\n conformed, destroys and consumes its spiritual substance, and absorbs\r\n it in deep and profound darkness. As a result of this, the soul feels\r\n itself to be perishing and melting away, in the presence and sight of\r\n its miseries, in a cruel spiritual death, even as if it had been\r\n swallowed by a beast and felt itself being devoured in the darkness of\r\n its belly, suffering such anguish as was endured by Jonas in the belly\r\n of that beast of the sea. [116] For in this sepulchre of dark death it\r\n must needs abide until the spiritual resurrection which it hopes for.\r\n\r\n 2. A description of this suffering and pain, although in truth it\r\n transcends all description, is given by David, when he says: The\r\n lamentations of death compassed me about; the pains of hell surrounded\r\n me; I cried in my tribulation.' [117] But what the sorrowful soul feels\r\n most in this condition is its clear perception, as it thinks, that God\r\n has abandoned it, and, in His abhorrence of it, has flung it into\r\n darkness; it is a grave and piteous grief for it to believe that God\r\n has forsaken it. It is this that David also felt so much in a like\r\n case, saying: After the manner wherein the wounded are dead in the\r\n sepulchres,' being now cast off by Thy hand, so that Thou rememberest\r\n them no more, even so have they set me in the deepest and lowest lake,\r\n in the dark places and in the shadow of death, and Thy fury is\r\n confirmed upon me and all Thy waves Thou hast brought in upon me.'\r\n [118] For indeed, when this purgative contemplation is most severe, the\r\n soul feels very keenly the shadow of death and the lamentations of\r\n death and the pains of hell, which consist in its feeling itself to be\r\n without God, and chastised and cast out, and unworthy of Him; and it\r\n feels that He is wroth with it. All this is felt by the soul in this\r\n condition--yea, and more, for it believes that it is so with it for\r\n ever.\r\n\r\n 3. It feels, too, that all creatures have forsaken it, and that it is\r\n contemned by them, particularly by its friends. Wherefore David\r\n presently continues, saying: ' Thou hast put far from me my friends and\r\n acquaintances; they have counted me an abomination.' [119] To all this\r\n will Jonas testify, as one who likewise experienced it in the belly of\r\n the beast, both bodily and spiritually. Thou hast cast me forth (he\r\n says) into the deep, into the heart of the sea, and the flood hath\r\n compassed me; all its billows and waves have passed over me. And I\r\n said, ?I am cast away out of the sight of Thine eyes, but I shall once\r\n again see Thy holy temple? (which he says, because God purifies the\r\n soul in this state that it may see His temple); the waters compassed\r\n me, even to the soul, the deep hath closed me round about, the ocean\r\n hath covered my head, I went down to the lowest parts of the mountains;\r\n the bars of the earth have shut me up for ever.' [120] By these bars\r\n are here understood, in this sense, imperfections of the soul, which\r\n have impeded it from enjoying this delectable contemplation.\r\n\r\n 4. The fourth kind of pain is caused in the soul by another excellence\r\n of this dark contemplation, which is its majesty and greatness, from\r\n which arises in the soul a consciousness of the other extreme which is\r\n in itself--namely, that of the deepest poverty and wretchedness: this\r\n is one of the chiefest pains that it suffers in this purgation. For it\r\n feels within itself a profound emptiness and impoverishment of three\r\n kinds of good, which are ordained for the pleasure of the soul which\r\n are the temporal, the natural and the spiritual; and finds itself set\r\n in the midst of the evils contrary to these, namely, miseries of\r\n imperfection, aridity and emptiness of the apprehensions of the\r\n faculties and abandonment of the spirit in darkness. Inasmuch as God\r\n here purges the soul according to the substance of its sense and\r\n spirit, and according to the interior and exterior faculties, the soul\r\n must needs be in all its parts reduced to a state of emptiness, poverty\r\n and abandonment and must be left dry and empty and in darkness. For the\r\n sensual part is purified in aridity, the faculties are purified in the\r\n emptiness of their perceptions and the spirit is purified in thick\r\n darkness.\r\n\r\n 5. All this God brings to pass by means of this dark contemplation;\r\n wherein the soul not only suffers this emptiness and the suspension of\r\n these natural supports and perceptions, which is a most afflictive\r\n suffering (as if a man were suspended or held in the air so that he\r\n could not breathe), but likewise He is purging the soul, annihilating\r\n it, emptying it or consuming in it (even as fire consumes the\r\n mouldiness and the rust of metal) all the affections and imperfect\r\n habits which it has contracted in its whole life. Since these are\r\n deeply rooted in the substance of the soul, it is wont to suffer great\r\n undoings and inward torment, besides the said poverty and emptiness,\r\n natural and spiritual, so that there may here be fulfilled that passage\r\n from Ezechiel which says: Heap together the bones and I will burn them\r\n in the fire; the flesh shall be consumed and the whole composition\r\n shall be burned and the bones shall be destroyed.' [121] Herein is\r\n understood the pain which is suffered in the emptiness and poverty of\r\n the substance of the soul both in sense and in spirit. And concerning\r\n this he then says: 'set it also empty upon the coals, that its metal\r\n may become hot and molten, and its uncleanness may be destroyed within\r\n it, and its rust may be consumed.' [122] Herein is described the grave\r\n suffering which the soul here endures in the purgation of the fire of\r\n this contemplation, for the Prophet says here that, in order for the\r\n rust of the affections which are within the soul to be purified and\r\n destroyed, it is needful that, in a certain manner, the soul itself\r\n should be annihilated and destroyed, since these passions and\r\n imperfections have become natural to it.\r\n\r\n 6. Wherefore, because the soul is purified in this furnace like gold in\r\n a crucible, as says the Wise Man, [123] it is conscious of this\r\n complete undoing of itself in its very substance, together with the\r\n direst poverty, wherein it is, as it were, nearing its end, as may be\r\n seen by that which David says of himself in this respect, in these\r\n words: 'save me, Lord (he cries to God), for the waters have come in\r\n even unto my soul; I am made fast in the mire of the deep and there is\r\n no place where I can stand; I am come into the depth of the sea and a\r\n tempest hath overwhelmed me; I have laboured crying, my throat has\r\n become hoarse, mine eyes have failed whilst I hope in my God.' [124]\r\n Here God greatly humbles the soul in order that He may afterwards\r\n greatly exalt it; and if He ordained not that, when these feelings\r\n arise within the soul, they should speedily be stilled, it would die in\r\n a very short space; but there are only occasional periods when it is\r\n conscious of their greatest intensity. At times, however, they are so\r\n keen that the soul seems to be seeing hell and perdition opened. Of\r\n such are they that in truth go down alive into hell, being purged here\r\n on earth in the same manner as there, since this purgation is that\r\n which would have to be accomplished there. And thus the soul that\r\n passes through this either enters not that place [125] at all, or\r\n tarries there but for a very short time; for one hour of purgation here\r\n is more profitable than are many there.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [116] Jonas ii, 1.\r\n\r\n [117]\r\n\r\n [118] Psalm lxxxvii, 6-8 [A.V., lxxxviii, 5-7].\r\n\r\n [119] Psalm lxxxvii, 9 [A.V., lxxxviii, 8].\r\n\r\n [120] Jonas ii, 4-7 [A.V., ii, 3-6].\r\n\r\n [121] Ezechiel xxiv, 10.\r\n\r\n [122] Ezechiel xxiv, 11.\r\n\r\n [123] Wisdom iii, 6.\r\n\r\n [124] Psalm lxviii, 2-4 [A.V., lxix, 1-3].\r\n\r\n [125] [i.e., purgatory.]\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER VII\r\n\r\n Continues the same matter and considers other afflictions end\r\n constraints of the will.\r\n\r\n THE afflictions and constraints of the will are now very great\r\n likewise, and of such a kind that they sometimes transpierce the soul\r\n with a sudden remembrance of the evils in the midst of which it finds\r\n itself, and with the uncertainty of finding a remedy for them. And to\r\n this is added the remembrance of times of prosperity now past; for as a\r\n rule souls that enter this night have had many consolations from God,\r\n and have rendered Him many services, and it causes them the greater\r\n grief to see that they are far removed from that happiness and unable\r\n to enter into it. This was also described by Job, who had had\r\n experience of it, in these words: I, who was wont to be wealthy and\r\n rich, am suddenly undone and broken to pieces; He hath taken me by my\r\n neck; He hath broken me and set me up for His mark to wound me; He hath\r\n compassed me round about with His lances; He hath wounded all my loins;\r\n He hath not spared; He hath poured out my bowels on the earth; He hath\r\n broken me with wound upon wound; He hath assailed me as a strong giant;\r\n I have sewed sackcloth upon my skin and have covered my flesh with\r\n ashes; my face is become swollen with weeping and mine eyes are\r\n blinded.' [126]\r\n\r\n 2. So many and so grievous are the afflictions of this night, and so\r\n many passages of Scripture are there which could be cited to this\r\n purpose, that time and strength would fail us to write of them, for all\r\n that can be said thereof is certainly less than the truth. From the\r\n passages already quoted some idea may be gained of them. And, that we\r\n may bring the exposition of this line to a close and explain more fully\r\n what is worked in the soul by this night, I shall tell what Jeremias\r\n felt about it, which, since there is so much of it, he describes and\r\n bewails in many words after this manner: I am the man that see my\r\n poverty in the rod of His indignation; He hath threatened me and\r\n brought me into darkness and not into light. So far hath He turned\r\n against me and hath converted His hand upon me all the day! My skin and\r\n my flesh hath He made old; He hath broken my bones; He hath made a\r\n fence around me and compassed me with gall and trial; He hath set me in\r\n dark places, as those that are dead for ever. He hath made a fence\r\n around me and against me, that I may not go out; He hath made my\r\n captivity heavy. Yea, and when I have cried and have entreated, He hath\r\n shut out my prayer. He hath enclosed my paths and ways out with square\r\n stones; He hath thwarted my steps. He hath set ambushes for me; He hath\r\n become to me a lion in a secret place. He hath turned aside my steps\r\n and broken me in pieces, He hath made me desolate; He hath bent His bow\r\n and set me as a mark for His arrow. He hath shot into my reins the\r\n daughters of His quiver. I have become a derision to all the people,\r\n and laughter and scorn for them all the day. He hath filled me with\r\n bitterness and hath made me drunken with wormwood. He hath broken my\r\n teeth by number; He hath fed me with ashes. My soul is cast out from\r\n peace; I have forgotten good things. And I said: ?Mine end is\r\n frustrated and cut short, together with my desire and my hope from the\r\n Lord. Remember my poverty and my excess, the wormwood and the gall. I\r\n shall be mindful with remembrance and my soul shall be undone within me\r\n in pains.?' [127]\r\n\r\n 3. All these complaints Jeremias makes about these pains and trials,\r\n and by means of them he most vividly depicts the sufferings of the soul\r\n in this spiritual night and purgation. Wherefore the soul that God sets\r\n in this tempestuous and horrible night is deserving of great\r\n compassion. For, although it experiences much happiness by reason of\r\n the great blessings that must arise on this account within it, when, as\r\n Job says, God raises up profound blessings in the soul out of darkness,\r\n and brings up to light the shadow of death, [128] so that, as David\r\n says, His light comes to be as was His darkness; [129] yet\r\n notwithstanding, by reason of the dreadful pain which the soul is\r\n suffering, and of the great uncertainty which it has concerning the\r\n remedy for it, since it believes, as this prophet says here, that its\r\n evil will never end, and it thinks, as David says likewise, that God\r\n set it in dark places like those that are dead, [130] and for this\r\n reason brought its spirit within it into anguish and troubled its\r\n heart, [131] it suffers great pain and grief, since there is added to\r\n all this (because of the solitude and abandonment caused in it by this\r\n dark night) the fact that it finds no consolation or support in any\r\n instruction nor in a spiritual master. For, although in many ways its\r\n director may show it good reason for being comforted because of the\r\n blessings which are contained in these afflictions, it cannot believe\r\n him. For it is so greatly absorbed and immersed in the realization of\r\n those evils wherein it sees its own miseries so clearly, that it thinks\r\n that, as its director observes not that which it sees and feels, he is\r\n speaking in this manner because he understands it not; and so, instead\r\n of comfort, it rather receives fresh affliction, since it believes that\r\n its director's advice contains no remedy for its troubles. And, in\r\n truth, this is so; for, until the Lord shall have completely purged it\r\n after the manner that He wills, no means or remedy is of any service or\r\n profit for the relief of its affliction; the more so because the soul\r\n is as powerless in this case as one who has been imprisoned in a dark\r\n dungeon, and is bound hand and foot, and can neither move nor see, nor\r\n feel any favour whether from above or from below, until the spirit is\r\n humbled, softened and purified, and grows so keen and delicate and pure\r\n that it can become one with the Spirit of God, according to the degree\r\n of union of love which His mercy is pleased to grant it; in proportion\r\n to this the purgation is of greater or less severity and of greater or\r\n less duration.\r\n\r\n 4. But, if it is to be really effectual, it will last for some years,\r\n however severe it be; since the purgative process allows intervals of\r\n relief wherein, by the dispensation of God, this dark contemplation\r\n ceases to assail the soul in the form and manner of purgation, and\r\n assails it after an illuminative and a loving manner, wherein the soul,\r\n like one that has gone forth from this dungeon and imprisonment, and is\r\n brought into the recreation of spaciousness and liberty, feels and\r\n experiences great sweetness of peace and loving friendship with God,\r\n together with a ready abundance of spiritual communication. This is to\r\n the soul a sign of the health which is being wrought within it by the\r\n said purgation and a foretaste of the abundance for which it hopes.\r\n Occasionally this is so great that the soul believes its trials to be\r\n at last over. For spiritual things in the soul, when they are most\r\n purely spiritual, have this characteristic that, if trials come to it,\r\n the soul believes that it will never escape from them, and that all its\r\n blessings are now over, as has been seen in the passages quoted; and,\r\n if spiritual blessings come, the soul believes in the same way that its\r\n troubles are now over, and that blessings will never fail it. This was\r\n so with David, when he found himself in the midst of them, as he\r\n confesses in these words: I said in my abundance: ?I shall never be\r\n moved.?' [132]\r\n\r\n 5. This happens because the actual possession by the spirit of one of\r\n two contrary things itself makes impossible the actual possession and\r\n realization of the other contrary thing; this is not so, however, in\r\n the sensual part of the soul, because its apprehension is weak. But, as\r\n the spirit is not yet completely purged and cleansed from the\r\n affections that it has contracted from its lower part, while changing\r\n not in so far as it is spirit, it can be moved to further afflictions\r\n in so far as these affections sway it. In this way, as we see, David\r\n was afterwards moved, and experienced many ills and afflictions,\r\n although in the time of his abundance he had thought and said that he\r\n would never be moved. Just so is it with the soul in this condition,\r\n when it sees itself moved by that abundance of spiritual blessings,\r\n and, being unable to see the root of the imperfection and impurity\r\n which still remain within it, thinks that its trials are over.\r\n\r\n 6. This thought, however, comes to the soul but seldom, for, until\r\n spiritual purification is complete and perfected, the sweet\r\n communication is very rarely so abundant as to conceal from the soul\r\n the root which remains hidden, in such a way that the soul can cease to\r\n feel that there is something that it lacks within itself or that it has\r\n still to do. Thus it cannot completely enjoy that relief, but feels as\r\n if one of its enemies were within it, and although this enemy is, as it\r\n were, hushed and asleep, it fears that he will come to life again and\r\n attack it. [133] And this is what indeed happens, for, when the soul is\r\n most secure and least alert, it is dragged down and immersed again in\r\n another and a worse degree of affliction which is severer and darker\r\n and more grievous than that which is past; and this new affliction will\r\n continue for a further period of time, perhaps longer than the first.\r\n And the soul once more comes to believe that all its blessings are over\r\n for ever. Although it had thought during its first trial that there\r\n were no more afflictions which it could suffer, and yet, after the\r\n trial was over, it enjoyed great blessings, this experience is not\r\n sufficient to take away its belief, during this second degree of trial,\r\n that all is now over for it and that it will never again be happy as in\r\n the past. For, as I say, this belief, of which the soul is so sure, is\r\n caused in it by the actual apprehension of the spirit, which\r\n annihilates within it all that is contrary to it.\r\n\r\n 7. This is the reason why those who lie in purgatory suffer great\r\n misgivings as to whether they will ever go forth from it and whether\r\n their pains will ever be over. For, although they have the habit of the\r\n three theological virtues--faith, hope and charity--the present\r\n realization which they have of their afflictions and of their\r\n deprivation of God allows them not to enjoy the present blessing and\r\n consolation of these virtues. For, although they are able to realize\r\n that they have a great love for God, this is no consolation to them,\r\n since they cannot think that God loves them or that they are worthy\r\n that He should do so; rather, as they see that they are deprived of\r\n Him, and left in their own miseries, they think that there is that in\r\n themselves which provides a very good reason why they should with\r\n perfect justice be abhorred and cast out by God for ever. [134] And\r\n thus although the soul in this purgation is conscious that it has a\r\n great love for God and would give a thousand lives for Him (which is\r\n the truth, for in these trials such souls love their God very\r\n earnestly), yet this is no relief to it, but rather brings it greater\r\n affliction. For it loves Him so much that it cares about naught beside;\r\n when, therefore, it sees itself to be so wretched that it cannot\r\n believe that God loves it, nor that there is or will ever be reason why\r\n He should do so, but rather that there is reason why it should be\r\n abhorred, not only by Him, but by all creatures for ever, it is grieved\r\n to see in itself reasons for deserving to be cast out by Him for Whom\r\n it has such great love and desire.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [126] Job xvi, 13-17 [A.V., xvi, 12-16].\r\n\r\n [127] Lamentations iii, 1-20.\r\n\r\n [128] Job xii, 22.\r\n\r\n [129] Psalm cxxxviii, 12 [A.V., cxxxix, 12].\r\n\r\n [130] [Lit., like to the dead of the world (or of the age).']\r\n\r\n [131] Psalm cxlii, 3 [A.V., cxliii, 3-4].\r\n\r\n [132] Psalm xxix, 7 [A.V., xxx, 6].\r\n\r\n [133] [Lit., and play his tricks upon it.']\r\n\r\n [134] B. Bz., C, H. Mtr. all have this long passage on the suffering of\r\n the soul in Purgatory. It would be rash, therefore, to deny that St.\r\n John of the Cross is its author, [or to suppose, as P. Gerardo did,\r\n that he deleted it during a revision of his works]. An admirably\r\n constructed synthesis of these questions will be found in B. Belarmino,\r\n De Purgatorio, Bk. II, chaps. iv, v. He asks if souls in Purgatory are\r\n sure of their salvation. This was denied by Luther, and by a number of\r\n Catholic writers, who held that, among the afflictions of these souls,\r\n the greatest is this very uncertainty, some maintain that, though they\r\n have in fact such certainty, they are unaware of it. Belarmino quotes\r\n among other authorities Denis the Carthusian De quattuor novissimis,\r\n Gerson (Lect. I De Vita Spirituali) and John of Rochester (against\r\n Luther's 32nd article); these writers claim that, as sin which is\r\n venial is only so through the Divine mercy, it may with perfect justice\r\n be rewarded by eternal punishment, and thus souls that have committed\r\n venial sin cannot be confident of their salvation. He also shows,\r\n however, that the common opinion of theologians is that the souls in\r\n Purgatory are sure of their salvation, and considers various degrees of\r\n certainty, adding very truly that, while these souls experience no\r\n fear, they experience hope, since they have not yet the Beatific\r\n vision. Uncertainty as to their salvation, it is said, might arise from\r\n ignorance of the sentence passed upon them by the Judge or from the\r\n deadening of their faculties by the torments which they are suffering.\r\n Belarmino refutes these and other suppositions with great force and\r\n effect. St. John of the Cross seems to be referring to the last named\r\n when he writes of the realization of their afflictions and their\r\n deprivation of God not allowing them to enjoy the blessings of the\r\n theological virtues. It is not surprising if the Saint, not having\r\n examined very closely this question, of which he would have read\r\n treatments in various authors, thought of it principally as an apt\r\n illustration of the purifying and refining effects of passive\r\n purgation; and an apt illustration it certainly is.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER VIII\r\n\r\n Of other pains which afflict the soul in this state.\r\n\r\n BUT there is another thing here that afflicts and distresses the soul\r\n greatly, which is that, as this dark night has hindered its faculties\r\n and affections in this way, it is unable to raise its affection or its\r\n mind to God, neither can it pray to Him, thinking, as Jeremias thought\r\n concerning himself, that God has set a cloud before it through which\r\n its prayer cannot pass. [135] For it is this that is meant by that\r\n which is said in the passage referred to, namely: ' He hath shut and\r\n enclosed my paths with square stones.' [136] And if it sometimes prays\r\n it does so with such lack of strength and of sweetness that it thinks\r\n that God neither hears it nor pays heed to it, as this Prophet likewise\r\n declares in the same passage, saying: When I cry and entreat, He hath\r\n shut out my prayer.' [137] In truth this is no time for the soul to\r\n speak with God; it should rather put its mouth in the dust, as Jeremias\r\n says, so that perchance there may come to it some present hope, [138]\r\n and it may endure its purgation with patience. It is God Who is\r\n passively working here in the soul; wherefore the soul can do nothing.\r\n Hence it can neither pray nor pay attention when it is present at the\r\n Divine offices, [139] much less can it attend to other things and\r\n affairs which are temporal. Not only so, but it has likewise such\r\n distractions and times of such profound forgetfulness of the memory\r\n that frequent periods pass by without its knowing what it has been\r\n doing or thinking, or what it is that it is doing or is going to do,\r\n neither can it pay attention, although it desire to do so, to anything\r\n that occupies it.\r\n\r\n 2. Inasmuch as not only is the understanding here purged of its light,\r\n and the will of its affections, but the memory is also purged of\r\n meditation and knowledge, it is well that it be likewise annihilated\r\n with respect to all these things, so that that which David says of\r\n himself in this purgation may by fulfilled, namely: ' I was annihilated\r\n and I knew not.' [140] This unknowing refers to these follies and\r\n forgetfulnesses of the memory, which distractions and forgetfulnesses\r\n are caused by the interior recollection wherein this contemplation\r\n absorbs the soul. For, in order that the soul may be divinely prepared\r\n and tempered with its faculties for the Divine union of love, it would\r\n be well for it to be first of all absorbed, with all its faculties, in\r\n this Divine and dark spiritual light of contemplation, and thus to be\r\n withdrawn from all the affections and apprehensions of the creatures,\r\n which condition ordinarily continues in proportion to its intensity.\r\n And thus, the simpler and the purer is this Divine light in its assault\r\n upon the soul, the more does it darken it, void it and annihilate it\r\n according to its particular apprehensions and affections, with regard\r\n both to things above and to things below; and similarly, the less\r\n simple and pure is it in this assault, the less deprivation it causes\r\n it and the less dark is it. Now this is a thing that seems incredible,\r\n to say that, the brighter and purer is supernatural and Divine light,\r\n the more it darkens the soul, and that, the less bright and pure is it,\r\n the less dark it is to the soul. Yet this may readily be understood if\r\n we consider what has been proved above by the dictum of the\r\n philosopher--namely, that the brighter and the more manifest in\r\n themselves are supernatural things the darker are they to our\r\n understanding.\r\n\r\n 3. And, to the end that this may be understood the more clearly, we\r\n shall here set down a similitude referring to common and natural light.\r\n We observe that a ray of sunlight which enters through the window is\r\n the less clearly visible according as it is the purer and freer from\r\n specks, and the more of such specks and motes there are in the air, the\r\n brighter is the light to the eye. The reason is that it is not the\r\n light itself that is seen; the light is but the means whereby the other\r\n things that it strikes are seen, and then it is also seen itself,\r\n through its reflection in them; were it not for this, neither it nor\r\n they would have been seen. Thus if the ray of sunlight entered through\r\n the window of one room and passed out through another on the other\r\n side, traversing the room, and if it met nothing on the way, or if\r\n there were no specks in the air for it to strike, the room would have\r\n no more light than before, neither would the ray of light be visible.\r\n In fact, if we consider it carefully, there is more darkness where the\r\n ray is, since it absorbs and obscures any other light, and yet it is\r\n itself invisible, because, as we have said, there are no visible\r\n objects which it can strike.\r\n\r\n 4. Now this is precisely what this Divine ray of contemplation does in\r\n the soul. Assailing it with its Divine light, it transcends the natural\r\n power of the soul, and herein it darkens it and deprives it of all\r\n natural affections and apprehensions which it apprehended aforetime by\r\n means of natural light; and thus it leaves it not only dark, but\r\n likewise empty, according to its faculties and desires, both spiritual\r\n and natural. And, by thus leaving it empty and in darkness, it purges\r\n and illumines it with Divine spiritual light, although the soul thinks\r\n not that it has this light, but believes itself to be in darkness, even\r\n as we have said of the ray of light, which although it be in the midst\r\n of the room, yet, if it be pure and meet nothing on its path, is not\r\n visible. With regard, however, to this spiritual light by which the\r\n soul is assailed, when it has something to strike--that is, when\r\n something spiritual presents itself to be understood, however small a\r\n speck it be and whether of perfection or imperfection, or whether it be\r\n a judgment of the falsehood or the truth of a thing--it then sees and\r\n understands much more clearly than before it was in these dark places.\r\n And exactly in the same way it discerns the spiritual light which it\r\n has in order that it may readily discern the imperfection which is\r\n presented to it; even as, when the ray of which we have spoken, within\r\n the room, is dark and not itself visible, if one introduce a hand or\r\n any other thing into its path, the hand is then seen and it is realized\r\n that that sunlight is present.\r\n\r\n 5. Wherefore, since this spiritual light is so simple, pure and\r\n general, not appropriated or restricted to any particular thing that\r\n can be understood, whether natural or Divine (since with respect to all\r\n these apprehensions the faculties of the soul are empty and\r\n annihilated), it follows that with great comprehensiveness and\r\n readiness the soul discerns and penetrates whatsoever thing presents\r\n itself to it, whether it come from above or from below; for which cause\r\n the Apostle said: That the spiritual man searches all things, even the\r\n deep things of God. [141] For by this general and simple wisdom is\r\n understood that which the Holy Spirit says through the Wise Man,\r\n namely: That it reaches wheresoever it wills by reason of its purity;\r\n [142] that is to say, because it is not restricted to any particular\r\n object of the intellect or affection. And this is the characteristic of\r\n the spirit that is purged and annihilated with respect to all\r\n particular affections and objects of the understanding, that in this\r\n state wherein it has pleasure in nothing and understands nothing in\r\n particular, but dwells in its emptiness, darkness and obscurity, it is\r\n fully prepared to embrace everything to the end that those words of\r\n Saint Paul may be fulfilled in it: Nihil habentes, et omnia\r\n possidentes. [143] For such poverty of spirit as this would deserve\r\n such happiness.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [135] Lamentations iii, 44.\r\n\r\n [136] [Lamentations iii, 9.]\r\n\r\n [137] Lamentations iii, 9.\r\n\r\n [138] Lamentations iii, 28.\r\n\r\n [139] [Lit., at the Divine things.']\r\n\r\n [140] Psalm lxxii, 22 [A.V., lxxiii, 22].\r\n\r\n [141] 1 Corinthians ii, 10. [Lit., penetrates all things.']\r\n\r\n [142] Wisdom vii, 24.\r\n\r\n [143] 2 Corinthians vi, 10.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER IX\r\n\r\n How, although this night brings darkness to the spirit, it does so\r\n in order to illumine it and give it light.\r\n\r\n IT now remains to be said that, although this happy night brings\r\n darkness to the spirit, it does so only to give it light in everything;\r\n and that, although it humbles it and makes it miserable, it does so\r\n only to exalt it and to raise it up; and, although it impoverishes it\r\n and empties it of all natural affection and attachment, it does so only\r\n that it may enable it to stretch forward, divinely, and thus to have\r\n fruition and experience of all things, both above and below, yet to\r\n preserve its unrestricted liberty of spirit in them all. For just as\r\n the elements, in order that they may have a part in all natural\r\n entities and compounds, must have no particular colour, odour or taste,\r\n so as to be able to combine with all tastes odours and colours, just so\r\n must the spirit be simple, pure and detached from all kinds of natural\r\n affection, whether actual or habitual, to the end that it may be able\r\n freely to share in the breadth of spirit of the Divine Wisdom, wherein,\r\n through its purity, it has experience of all the sweetness of all\r\n things in a certain pre-eminently excellent way. [144] And without this\r\n purgation it will be wholly unable to feel or experience the\r\n satisfaction of all this abundance of spiritual sweetness. For one\r\n single affection remaining in the spirit, or one particular thing to\r\n which, actually or habitually, it clings, suffices to hinder it from\r\n feeling or experiencing or communicating the delicacy and intimate\r\n sweetness of the spirit of love, which contains within itself all\r\n sweetness to a most eminent degree. [145]\r\n\r\n 2. For, even as the children of Israel, solely because they retained\r\n one single affection and remembrance--namely, with respect to the\r\n fleshpots and the meals which they had tasted in Egypt [146] --could\r\n not relish the delicate bread of angels, in the desert, which was the\r\n manna, which, as the Divine Scripture says, held sweetness for every\r\n taste and turned to the taste that each one desired; [147] even so the\r\n spirit cannot succeed in enjoying the delights of the spirit of\r\n liberty, according to the desire of the will, if it be still\r\n affectioned to any desire, whether actual or habitual, or to particular\r\n objects of understanding, or to any other apprehension. The reason for\r\n this is that the affections, feelings and apprehensions of the perfect\r\n spirit, being Divine, are of another kind and of a very different order\r\n from those that are natural. They are pre-eminent, so that, in order\r\n both actually and habitually to possess the one, it is needful to expel\r\n and annihilate the other, as with two contrary things, which cannot\r\n exist together in one person. Therefore it is most fitting and\r\n necessary, if the soul is to pass to these great things, that this dark\r\n night of contemplation should first of all annihilate and undo it in\r\n its meannesses, bringing it into darkness, aridity, affliction and\r\n emptiness; for the light which is to be given to it is a Divine light\r\n of the highest kind, which transcends all natural light, and which by\r\n nature can find no place in the understanding.\r\n\r\n 3. And thus it is fitting that, if the understanding is to be united\r\n with that light and become Divine in the state of perfection, it should\r\n first of all be purged and annihilated as to its natural light, and, by\r\n means of this dark contemplation, be brought actually into darkness.\r\n This darkness should continue for as long as is needful in order to\r\n expel and annihilate the habit which the soul has long since formed in\r\n its manner of understanding, and the Divine light and illumination will\r\n then take its place. And thus, inasmuch as that power of understanding\r\n which it had aforetime is natural, it follows that the darkness which\r\n it here suffers is profound and horrible and most painful, for this\r\n darkness, being felt in the deepest substance of the spirit, seems to\r\n be substantial darkness. Similarly, since the affection of love which\r\n is to be given to it in the Divine union of love is Divine, and\r\n therefore very spiritual, subtle and delicate, and very intimate,\r\n transcending every affection and feeling of the will, and every desire\r\n thereof, it is fitting that, in order that the will may be able to\r\n attain to this Divine affection and most lofty delight, and to feel it\r\n and experience it through the union of love, since it is not, in the\r\n way of nature, perceptible to the will, it be first of all purged and\r\n annihilated in all its affections and feelings, and left in a condition\r\n of aridity and constraint, proportionate to the habit of natural\r\n affections which it had before, with respect both to Divine things and\r\n to human. Thus, being exhausted, withered and thoroughly tried in the\r\n fire of this dark contemplation, and having driven away every kind\r\n [148] of evil spirit (as with the heart of the fish which Tobias set on\r\n the coals [149] ), it may have a simple and pure disposition, and its\r\n palate may be purged and healthy, so that it may feel the rare and\r\n sublime touches of Divine love, wherein it will see itself divinely\r\n transformed, and all the contrarieties, whether actual or habitual,\r\n which it had aforetime, will be expelled, as we are saying.\r\n\r\n 4. Moreover, in order to attain the said union to which this dark night\r\n is disposing and leading it, the soul must be filled and endowed with a\r\n certain glorious magnificence in its communion with God, which includes\r\n within itself innumerable blessings springing from delights which\r\n exceed all the abundance that the soul can naturally possess. For by\r\n nature the soul is so weak and impure that it cannot receive all this.\r\n As Isaias says: Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it\r\n entered into the heart of man, that which God hath prepared, etc.'\r\n [150] It is meet, then, that the soul be first of all brought into\r\n emptiness and poverty of spirit and purged from all help, consolation\r\n and natural apprehension with respect to all things, both above and\r\n below. In this way, being empty, it is able indeed to be poor in spirit\r\n and freed from the old man, in order to live that new and blessed life\r\n which is attained by means of this night, and which is the state of\r\n union with God.\r\n\r\n 5. And because the soul is to attain to the possession of a sense, and\r\n of a Divine knowledge, which is very generous and full of sweetness,\r\n with respect to things Divine and human, which fall not within the\r\n common experience and natural knowledge of the soul (because it looks\r\n on them with eyes as different from those of the past as spirit is\r\n different from sense and the Divine from the human), the spirit must be\r\n straitened [151] and inured to hardships as regards its common and\r\n natural experience, and be brought by means of this purgative\r\n contemplation into great anguish and affliction, and the memory must be\r\n borne far from all agreeable and peaceful knowledge, and have an\r\n intimated sense and feeling that it is making a pilgrimage and being a\r\n stranger to all things, so that it seems to it that all things are\r\n strange and of a different kind from that which they were wont to be.\r\n For this night is gradually drawing the spirit away from its ordinary\r\n and common experience of things and bringing it nearer the Divine\r\n sense, which is a stranger and an alien to all human ways. It seems now\r\n to the soul that it is going forth from its very self, with much\r\n affliction. At other times it wonders if it is under a charm or a\r\n spell, and it goes about marvelling at the things that it sees and\r\n hears, which seem to it very strange and rare, though they are the same\r\n that it was accustomed to experience aforetime. The reason of this is\r\n that the soul is now becoming alien and remote from common sense and\r\n knowledge of things, in order that, being annihilated in this respect,\r\n it may be informed with the Divine--which belongs rather to the next\r\n life than to this.\r\n\r\n 6. The soul suffers all these afflictive purgations of the spirit to\r\n the end that it may be begotten anew in spiritual life by means of this\r\n Divine inflowing, and in these pangs may bring forth the spirit of\r\n salvation, that the saying of Isaias may be fulfilled: In Thy sight, O\r\n Lord, we have conceived, and we have been as in the pangs of labour,\r\n and we have brought forth the spirit of salvation.' [152] Moreover,\r\n since by means of this contemplative night the soul is prepared for the\r\n attainment of inward peace and tranquillity, which is of such a kind\r\n and so delectable that, as the Scripture says, it passes all\r\n understanding, [153] it behoves the soul to abandon all its former\r\n peace. This was in reality no peace at all, since it was involved in\r\n imperfections; but to the soul aforementioned it appeared to be so,\r\n because it was following its own inclinations, which were for peace. It\r\n seemed, indeed, to be a twofold peace--that is, the soul believed that\r\n it had already acquired the peace of sense and that of spirit, for it\r\n found itself to be full of the spiritual abundance of this peace of\r\n sense and of spirit--as I say, it is still imperfect. First of all,\r\n then, it must be purged of that former peace and disquieted concerning\r\n it and withdrawn from it. [154] Even so was Jeremias when, in the\r\n passage which we quoted from him, he felt and lamented [155] thus, in\r\n order to express the calamities of this night that is past, saying: My\r\n soul is withdrawn and removed from peace.' [156]\r\n\r\n 7. This is a painful disturbance, involving many misgivings,\r\n imaginings, and strivings which the soul has within itself, wherein,\r\n with the apprehension and realization of the miseries in which it sees\r\n itself, it fancies that it is lost and that its blessings have gone for\r\n ever. Wherefore the spirit experiences pain and sighing so deep that\r\n they cause it vehement spiritual groans and cries, to which at times it\r\n gives vocal expression; when it has the necessary strength and power it\r\n dissolves into tears, although this relief comes but seldom. David\r\n describes this very aptly, in a Psalm, as one who has had experience of\r\n it, where he says: I was exceedingly afflicted and humbled; I roared\r\n with the groaning of my heart.' [157] This roaring implies great pain;\r\n for at times, with the sudden and acute remembrance of these miseries\r\n wherein the soul sees itself, pain and affliction rise up and surround\r\n it, and I know not how the affections of the soul could be described\r\n [158] save in the similitude of holy Job, when he was in the same\r\n trials, and uttered these words: Even as the overflowing of the waters,\r\n even so is my roaring.' [159] For just as at times the waters make such\r\n inundations that they overwhelm and fill everything, so at times this\r\n roaring and this affliction of the soul grow to such an extent that\r\n they overwhelm it and penetrate it completely, filling it with\r\n spiritual pain and anguish in all its deep affections and energies, to\r\n an extent surpassing all possibility of exaggeration.\r\n\r\n 8. Such is the work wrought in the soul by this night that hides the\r\n hopes of the light of day. With regard to this the prophet Job says\r\n likewise: In the night my mouth is pierced with sorrows and they that\r\n feed upon me sleep not.' [160] Now here by the mouth is understood the\r\n will, which is transpierced with these pains that tear the soul to\r\n pieces, neither ceasing nor sleeping, for the doubts and misgivings\r\n which transpierce the soul in this way never cease.\r\n\r\n 9. Deep is this warfare and this striving, for the peace which the soul\r\n hopes for will be very deep; and the spiritual pain is intimate and\r\n delicate, for the love which it will possess will likewise be very\r\n intimate and refined. The more intimate and the more perfect the\r\n finished work is to be and to remain, the more intimate, perfect and\r\n pure must be the labour; the firmer the edifice, the harder the labour.\r\n Wherefore, as Job says, the soul is fading within itself, and its\r\n vitals are being consumed without any hope. [161] Similarly, because in\r\n the state of perfection toward which it journeys by means of this\r\n purgative night the soul will attain to the possession and fruition of\r\n innumerable blessings, of gifts and virtues, both according to the\r\n substance of the soul and likewise according to its faculties, it must\r\n needs see and feel itself withdrawn from them all and deprived of them\r\n all and be empty and poor without them; and it must needs believe\r\n itself to be so far from them that it cannot persuade itself that it\r\n will ever reach them, but rather it must be convinced that all its good\r\n things are over. The words of Jeremias have a similar meaning in that\r\n passage already quoted, where he says: I have forgotten good things.'\r\n [162]\r\n\r\n 10. But let us now see the reason why this light of contemplation,\r\n which is so sweet and blessed to the soul that there is naught more\r\n desirable (for, as has been said above, it is the same wherewith the\r\n soul must be united and wherein it must find all the good things in the\r\n state of perfection that it desires), produces, when it assails the\r\n soul, these beginnings which are so painful and these effects which are\r\n so disagreeable, as we have here said.\r\n\r\n 1l. This question is easy for us to answer, by explaining, as we have\r\n already done in part, that the cause of this is that, in contemplation\r\n and the Divine inflowing, there is naught that of itself can cause\r\n affliction, but that they rather cause great sweetness and delight, as\r\n we shall say hereafter. The cause is rather the weakness and\r\n imperfection from which the soul then suffers, and the dispositions\r\n which it has in itself and which make it unfit for the reception of\r\n them. Wherefore, when the said Divine light assails the soul, it must\r\n needs cause it to suffer after the manner aforesaid.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [144] [Lit., with a certain eminence of excellence.']\r\n\r\n [145] [Lit., . . . sweetness, with great eminence.']\r\n\r\n [146] Exodus xvi, 3.\r\n\r\n [147] Wisdom xvi, 21.\r\n\r\n [148] [Lit., from every kind.' But see Tobias viii, 2. The deprived' of\r\n e.p. gives the best reading of this phrase, but the general sense is\r\n clear from the Scriptural reference.]\r\n\r\n [149] Tobias viii, 2.\r\n\r\n [150] Isaias lxiv, 4 [1 Corinthians ii, 9].\r\n\r\n [151] [Lit., be made thin.']\r\n\r\n [152] Isaias xxvi, 17-18.\r\n\r\n [153] [Philippians iv, 7.]\r\n\r\n [154] [We have here split up a parenthesis of about seventy words.]\r\n\r\n [155] [Lit., and wept.']\r\n\r\n [156] Lamentations iii, 17.\r\n\r\n [157] Psalm xxxvii, 9 [A.V., xxxviii, 8].\r\n\r\n [158] [Lit., . . . sees itself, it arises and is surrounded with pain\r\n and affliction the affections of the soul, that I know not how it could\r\n be described.' A confused, ungrammatical sentence, of which, however,\r\n the general meaning is not doubtful.]\r\n\r\n [159] Job iii, 24.\r\n\r\n [160] Job xxx, 17.\r\n\r\n [161] Job xxx, 16.\r\n\r\n [162] Lamentations iii, 17.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER X\r\n\r\n Explains this purgation fully by a comparison.\r\n\r\n FOR the greater clearness of what has been said, and of what has still\r\n to be said, it is well to observe at this point that this purgative and\r\n loving knowledge or Divine light whereof we here speak acts upon the\r\n soul which it is purging and preparing for perfect union with it in the\r\n same way as fire acts upon a log of wood in order to transform it into\r\n itself; for material fire, acting upon wood, first of all begins to dry\r\n it, by driving out its moisture and causing it to shed the water which\r\n it contains within itself. Then it begins to make it black, dark and\r\n unsightly, and even to give forth a bad odour, and, as it dries it\r\n little by little, it brings out and drives away all the dark and\r\n unsightly accidents which are contrary to the nature of fire. And,\r\n finally, it begins to kindle it externally and give it heat, and at\r\n last transforms it into itself and makes it as beautiful as fire. In\r\n this respect, the wood has neither passivity nor activity of its own,\r\n save for its weight, which is greater, and its substance, which is\r\n denser, than that of fire, for it has in itself the properties and\r\n activities of fire. Thus it is dry and it dries; it is hot and heats;\r\n it is bright and gives brightness; and it is much less heavy than\r\n before. All these properties and effects are caused in it by the fire.\r\n\r\n 2. In this same way we have to philosophize with respect to this Divine\r\n fire of contemplative love, which, before it unites and transforms the\r\n soul in itself, first purges it of all its contrary accidents. It\r\n drives out its unsightliness, and makes it black and dark, so that it\r\n seems worse than before and more unsightly and abominable than it was\r\n wont to be. For this Divine purgation is removing all the evil and\r\n vicious humours which the soul has never perceived because they have\r\n been so deeply rooted and grounded in it; it has never realized, in\r\n fact, that it has had so much evil within itself. But now that they are\r\n to be driven forth and annihilated, these humours reveal themselves,\r\n and become visible to the soul because it is so brightly illumined by\r\n this dark light of Divine contemplation (although it is no worse than\r\n before, either in itself or in relation to God); and, as it sees in\r\n itself that which it saw not before, it is clear to it that not only is\r\n it unfit to be seen by God, but deserves His abhorrence, and that He\r\n does indeed abhor it. By this comparison we can now understand many\r\n things concerning what we are saying and purpose to say.\r\n\r\n 3. First, we can understand how the very light and the loving wisdom\r\n which are to be united with the soul and to transform it are the same\r\n that at the beginning purge and prepare it: even as the very fire which\r\n transforms the log of wood into itself, and makes it part of itself, is\r\n that which at the first was preparing it for that same purpose.\r\n\r\n 4. Secondly, we shall be able to see how these afflictions are not felt\r\n by the soul as coming from the said Wisdom, since, as the Wise Man\r\n says, all good things together come to the soul with her. [163] They\r\n are felt as coming from the weakness and imperfection which belong to\r\n the soul; without such purgation, the soul cannot receive its Divine\r\n light, sweetness and delight, even as the log of wood, when the fire\r\n acts upon it, cannot immediately be transformed until it be made ready;\r\n wherefore the soul is greatly afflicted. This statement is fully\r\n supported by the Preacher, where he describes all that he suffered in\r\n order that he might attain to union with wisdom and to the fruition of\r\n it, saying thus: My soul hath wrestled with her and my bowels were\r\n moved in acquiring her; therefore it shall possess a good possession.'\r\n [164]\r\n\r\n 5. Thirdly, we can learn here incidentally in what manner souls are\r\n afflicted in purgatory. For the fire would have no power over them,\r\n even though they came into contact with it, if they had no\r\n imperfections for which to suffers. These are the material upon which\r\n the fire of purgatory seizes; when that material is consumed there is\r\n naught else that can burn. So here, when the imperfections are\r\n consumed, the affliction of the soul ceases and its fruition remains.\r\n\r\n 6. The fourth thing that we shall learn here is the manner wherein the\r\n soul, as it becomes purged and purified by means of this fire of love,\r\n becomes ever more enkindled in love, just as the wood grows hotter in\r\n proportion as it becomes the better prepared by the fire. This\r\n enkindling of love, however, is not always felt by the soul, but only\r\n at times when contemplation assails it less vehemently, for then it has\r\n occasion to see, and even to enjoy, the work which is being wrought in\r\n it, and which is then revealed to it. For it seems that the worker\r\n takes his hand from the work, and draws the iron out of the furnace, in\r\n order that something of the work which is being done may be seen; and\r\n then there is occasion for the soul to observe in itself the good which\r\n it saw not while the work was going on. In the same way, when the flame\r\n ceases to attack the wood, it is possible to see how much of it has\r\n been enkindled.\r\n\r\n 7. Fifthly, we shall also learn from this comparison what has been said\r\n above--namely, how true it is that after each of these periods of\r\n relief the soul suffers once again, more intensely and keenly than\r\n before. For, after that revelation just referred to has been made, and\r\n after the more outward imperfections of the soul have been purified,\r\n the fire of love once again attacks that which has yet to be consumed\r\n and purified more inwardly. The suffering of the soul now becomes more\r\n intimate, subtle and spiritual, in proportion as the fire refines away\r\n the finer, [165] more intimate and more spiritual imperfections, and\r\n those which are most deeply rooted in its inmost parts. And it is here\r\n just as with the wood, upon which the fire, when it begins to penetrate\r\n it more deeply, acts with more force and vehemence [166] in preparing\r\n its most inward part to possess it.\r\n\r\n 8. Sixthly, we shall likewise learn here the reason why it seems to the\r\n soul that all its good is over, and that it is full of evil, since\r\n naught comes to it at this time but bitterness; it is like the burning\r\n wood, which is touched by no air nor by aught else than by consuming\r\n fire. But, when there occur other periods of relief like the first, the\r\n rejoicing of the soul will be more interior because the purification\r\n has been more interior also.\r\n\r\n 9. Seventhly, we shall learn that, although the soul has the most ample\r\n joy at these periods (so much so that, as we said, it sometimes thinks\r\n that its trials can never return again, although it is certain that\r\n they will return quickly), it cannot fail to realize, if it is aware\r\n (and at times it is made aware) of a root of imperfection which\r\n remains, that its joy is incomplete, because a new assault seems to be\r\n threatening it; [167] when this is so, the trial returns quickly.\r\n Finally, that which still remains to be purged and enlightened most\r\n inwardly cannot well be concealed from the soul in view of its\r\n experience of its former purification; [168] even as also in the wood\r\n it is the most inward part that remains longest unkindled, [169] and\r\n the difference between it and that which has already been purged is\r\n clearly perceptible; and, when this purification once more assails it\r\n most inwardly, it is no wonder if it seems to the soul once more that\r\n all its good is gone, and that it never expects to experience it again,\r\n for, now that it has been plunged into these most inward sufferings,\r\n all good coming from without is over. [170]\r\n\r\n 10. Keeping this comparison, then, before our eyes, together with what\r\n has already been said upon the first line of the first stanza\r\n concerning this dark night and its terrible properties, it will be well\r\n to leave these sad experiences of the soul and to begin to speak of the\r\n fruit of its tears and their blessed properties, whereof the soul\r\n begins to sing from this second line:\r\n\r\n Kindled in love [171] with yearnings,\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [163] Wisdom vii, 11.\r\n\r\n [164] Ecclesiasticus li, 28-9 [A.V., li, 19-21].\r\n\r\n [165] [Lit., more delicate.']\r\n\r\n [166] [Lit., fury.']\r\n\r\n [167] [The sudden change of metaphor is the author's. The assault' is,\r\n of course, the renewed growth of the root.']\r\n\r\n [168] [Lit., . . . from the soul, with regard to that which has already\r\n been purified.']\r\n\r\n [169] [Lit., not enlightened': the word is the same as that used just\r\n above.]\r\n\r\n [170] [The word translated over' is rendered gone' just above.]\r\n\r\n [171] [Lit., in loves'; and so throughout the exposition of this line.]\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XI\r\n\r\n Begins to explain the second line of the first stanza.\r\n Describes how, as the fruit of these rigorous constraints, the soul\r\n finds itself with the vehement passion of Divine love.\r\n\r\n IN this line the soul describes the fire of love which, as we have\r\n said, like the material fire acting upon the wood, begins to take hold\r\n upon the soul in this night of painful contemplation. This enkindling\r\n now described, although in a certain way it resembles that which we\r\n described above as coming to pass in the sensual part of the soul, is\r\n in some ways as different from that other as is the soul from the body,\r\n or the spiritual part from the sensual. For this present kind is an\r\n enkindling of spiritual love in the soul, which, in the midst of these\r\n dark confines, feels itself to be keenly and sharply wounded in strong\r\n Divine love, and to have a certain realization and foretaste of God,\r\n although it understands nothing definitely, for, as we say, the\r\n understanding is in darkness.\r\n\r\n 2. The spirit feels itself here to be deeply and passionately in love,\r\n for this spiritual enkindling produces the passion of love. And,\r\n inasmuch as this love is infused, it is passive rather than active, and\r\n thus it begets in the soul a strong passion of love. This love has in\r\n it something of union with God, and thus to some degree partakes of its\r\n properties, which are actions of God rather than of the soul, these\r\n being subdued within it passively. What the soul does here is to give\r\n its consent; the warmth and strength and temper and passion of love--or\r\n enkindling, as the soul here calls it--belong [172] only to the love of\r\n God, which enters increasingly into union with it. This love finds in\r\n the soul more occasion and preparation to unite itself with it and to\r\n wound it, according as all the soul's desires are the more recollected,\r\n [173] and are the more withdrawn from and disabled for the enjoyment of\r\n aught either in Heaven or in earth.\r\n\r\n 3. This takes place to a great extent, as has already been said, in\r\n this dark purgation, for God has so weaned all the inclinations and\r\n caused them to be so recollected [174] that they cannot find pleasure\r\n in anything they may wish. All this is done by God to the end that,\r\n when He withdraws them and recollects them in Himself, the soul may\r\n have more strength and fitness to receive this strong union of love of\r\n God, which He is now beginning to give it through this purgative way,\r\n wherein the soul must love with great strength and with all its desires\r\n and powers both of spirit and of sense; which could not be if they were\r\n dispersed in the enjoyment of aught else. For this reason David said to\r\n God, to the end that he might receive the strength of the love of this\r\n union with God: I will keep my strength for Thee;' [175] that is, I\r\n will keep the entire capacity and all the desires and energies of my\r\n faculties, nor will I employ their operation or pleasure in aught else\r\n than Thyself.\r\n\r\n 4. In this way it can be realized in some measure how great and how\r\n strong may be this enkindling of love in the spirit, wherein God keeps\r\n in recollection all the energies, faculties and desires of the soul,\r\n both of spirit and of sense, so that all this harmony may employ its\r\n energies and virtues in this love, and may thus attain to a true\r\n fulfilment of the first commandment, which sets aside nothing\r\n pertaining to man nor excludes from this love anything that is his, but\r\n says: Thou shalt love thy God with all thy heart and with all thy mind,\r\n with all thy soul and with all thy strength.' [176]\r\n\r\n 5. When all the desires and energies of the soul, then, have been\r\n recollected in this enkindling of love, and when the soul itself has\r\n been touched and wounded in them all, and has been inspired with\r\n passion, what shall we understand the movements and digressions of all\r\n these energies and desires to be, if they find themselves enkindled and\r\n wounded with strong love and without the possession and satisfaction\r\n thereof, in darkness and doubt? They will doubtless be suffering\r\n hunger, like the dogs of which David speaks as running about the city\r\n [177] ; finding no satisfaction in this love, they keep howling and\r\n groaning. For the touch of this love and Divine fire dries up the\r\n spirit and enkindles its desires, in order to satisfy its thirst for\r\n this Divine love, so much so that it turns upon itself a thousand times\r\n and desires God in a thousand ways and manners, with the eagerness and\r\n desire of the appetite. This is very well explained by David in a\r\n psalm, where he says: My soul thirsted for Thee: in how many manners\r\n does my soul long for Thee!' [178] --that is, in desires. And another\r\n version reads: My soul thirsted for Thee, my soul is lost (or perishes)\r\n for Thee.'\r\n\r\n 6. It is for this reason that the soul says in this line that it was\r\n kindled in love with yearnings.' [179] For in all the things and\r\n thoughts that it revolves within itself, and in all the affairs and\r\n matters that present themselves to it, it loves in many ways, and also\r\n desires and suffers in the desire in many ways, at all times and in all\r\n places, finding rest in naught, and feeling this yearning in its\r\n enkindled wound, even as the prophet Job declares, saying: As the hart\r\n [180] desireth the shadow, and as the hireling desireth the end of his\r\n work, so I also had vain months and numbered to myself wearisome and\r\n laborious nights. If I lie down to sleep, I shall say: ?When shall I\r\n arise And then I shall await the evening and shall be full of sorrows\r\n even until the darkness of night.' [181] Everything becomes cramping to\r\n this soul: it cannot live [182] within itself; it cannot live either in\r\n Heaven or on earth; and it is filled with griefs until the darkness\r\n comes to which Job here refers, speaking spiritually and in the sense\r\n of our interpretation. What the soul here endures is afflictions and\r\n suffering without the consolation of a certain hope of any light and\r\n spiritual good. Wherefore the yearning and the grief of this soul in\r\n this enkindling of love are greater because it is multiplied in two\r\n ways: first, by the spiritual darkness wherein it finds itself, which\r\n afflicts it with its doubts and misgivings; and then by the love of\r\n God, which enkindles and stimulates it, and, with its loving wound,\r\n causes it a wondrous fear. These two kinds of suffering at such a\r\n season are well described by Isaias, where he says: My soul desired\r\n Thee in the night' [183] --that is, in misery.\r\n\r\n 7. This is one kind of suffering which proceeds from this dark night;\r\n but, he goes on to say, with my spirit, in my bowels, until the\r\n morning, I will watch for Thee. And this is the second way of grieving\r\n in desire and yearning which comes from love in the bowels of the\r\n spirit, which are the spiritual affections. But in the midst of these\r\n dark and loving afflictions the soul feels within itself a certain\r\n companionship and strength, which bears it company and so greatly\r\n strengthens it that, if this burden of grievous darkness be taken away,\r\n it often feels itself to be alone, empty and weak. The cause of this is\r\n that, as the strength and efficacy of the soul were derived and\r\n communicated passively from the dark fire of love which assailed it, it\r\n follows that, when that fire ceases to assail it, the darkness and\r\n power and heat of love cease in the soul.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [172] [Lit., cling,' adhere.']\r\n\r\n [173] [Lit., 'shut up.']\r\n\r\n [174] [Here, and below, the original has recogidos, the word normally\r\n translated recollected']\r\n\r\n [175] Psalm lviii, 10 [A V., lix, 9].\r\n\r\n [176] Deuteronomy vi, 5.\r\n\r\n [177] Psalm lviii, 15-16 [A.V., lix, 14-15].\r\n\r\n [178] Psalm lxii, 2 [A.V., lxiii, 1].\r\n\r\n [179] [Lit., as in the verses, in loves.']\r\n\r\n [180] [For cievro, hart, read siervo, servant, and we have the correct\r\n quotation from Scripture. The change, however, was evidently made by\r\n the Saint knowingly. In P. Gerardo's edition, the Latin text, with\r\n cervus, precedes the Spanish translation, with ciervo.]\r\n\r\n [181] Job vii, 2-4.\r\n\r\n [182] [No cabe: Lit., it cannot be contained,' there is no room for\r\n it.']\r\n\r\n [183] Isaias xxvi, 9.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XII\r\n\r\n Shows how this horrible night is purgatory, and how in it the Divine\r\n wisdom illumines men on earth with the same illumination that purges\r\n and illumines the angels in Heaven.\r\n\r\n FROM what has been said we shall be able to see how this dark night of\r\n loving fire, as it purges in the darkness, so also in the darkness\r\n enkindles the soul. We shall likewise be able to see that, even as\r\n spirits are purged in the next life with dark material fire, so in this\r\n life they are purged and cleansed with the dark spiritual fire of love.\r\n The difference is that in the next life they are cleansed with fire,\r\n while here below they are cleansed and illumined with love only. It was\r\n this love that David entreated, when he said: Cor mundum crea in me,\r\n Deus, etc. [184] For cleanness of heart is nothing less than the love\r\n and grace of God. For the clean of heart are called by our Saviour\r\n blessed'; which is as if He had called them enkindled with love', [185]\r\n since blessedness is given by nothing less than love.\r\n\r\n 2. And Jeremias well shows how the soul is purged when it is illumined\r\n with this fire of loving wisdom (for God never grants mystical wisdom\r\n without love, since love itself infuses it), where he says: He hath\r\n sent fire into my bones, and hath taught me.' [186] And David says that\r\n the wisdom of God is silver tried in fire [187] --that is, in purgative\r\n fire of love. For this dark contemplation infuses into the soul love\r\n and wisdom jointly, to each one according to his capacity and need,\r\n enlightening the soul and purging it, in the words of the Wise Man,\r\n from its ignorances, as he said was done to himself.\r\n\r\n 3. From this we shall also infer that the very wisdom of God which\r\n purges these souls and illumines them purges the angels from their\r\n ignorances, giving them knowledge, enlightening them as to that which\r\n they knew not, and flowing down from God through the first hierarchies\r\n even to the last, and thence to men. [188] All the works, therefore,\r\n which are done by the angels, and all their inspirations, are said in\r\n the Scriptures, with truth and propriety, to be the work of God and of\r\n themselves; for ordinarily these inspirations come through the angels,\r\n and they receive them likewise one from another without any delay--as\r\n quickly as a ray of sunshine is communicated through many windows\r\n arranged in order. For although it is true that the sun's ray itself\r\n passes through them all, still each one passes it on and infuses it\r\n into the next, in a modified form, according to the nature of the\r\n glass, and with rather more or rather less power and brightness,\r\n according as it is nearer to the sun or farther from it.\r\n\r\n 4. Hence it follows that, the nearer to God are the higher spirits and\r\n the lower, the more completely are they purged and enlightened with\r\n more general purification; and that the lowest of them will receive\r\n this illumination very much less powerfully and more remotely. Hence it\r\n follows that man, who is the lowest of all those to whom this loving\r\n contemplation flows down continually from God, will, when God desires\r\n to give it him, receive it perforce after his own manner in a very\r\n limited way and with great pain. For, when the light of God illumines\r\n an angel, it enlightens him and enkindles [189] him in love, since,\r\n being pure spirit, he is prepared for that infusion. But, when it\r\n illumines man, who is impure and weak, it illumines him, as has been\r\n said above, according to his nature. It plunges him into darkness and\r\n causes him affliction and distress, as does the sun to the eye that is\r\n weak; [190] it enkindles him with passionate yet afflictive love, until\r\n he be spiritualized and refined by this same fire of love; and it\r\n purifies him until he can receive with sweetness the union of this\r\n loving infusion after the manner of the angels, being now purged, as by\r\n the help of the Lord we shall explain later. But meanwhile he receives\r\n this contemplation and loving knowledge in the constraint and yearning\r\n of love of which we are here speaking.\r\n\r\n 5. This enkindling and yearning of love are not always perceived by the\r\n soul. For in the beginning, when this spiritual purgation commences,\r\n all this Divine fire is used in drying up and making ready the wood\r\n (which is the soul) rather than in giving it heat. But, as time goes\r\n on, the fire begins to give heat to the soul, and the soul then very\r\n commonly feels this enkindling and heat of love. Further, as the\r\n understanding is being more and more purged by means of this darkness,\r\n it sometimes comes to pass that this mystical and loving theology, as\r\n well as enkindling the will, strikes and illumines the other faculty\r\n also--that of the understanding--with a certain Divine light and\r\n knowledge, so delectably and delicately that it aids the will to\r\n conceive a marvellous fervour, and, without any action of its own,\r\n there burns in it this Divine fire of love, in living flames, so that\r\n it now appears to the soul a living fire by reason of the living\r\n understanding which is given to it. It is of this that David speaks in\r\n a Psalm, saying: My heart grew hot within me, and, as I meditated, a\r\n certain fire was enkindled.' [191]\r\n\r\n 6. This enkindling of love, which accompanies the union of these two\r\n faculties, the understanding and the will, which are here united, is\r\n for the soul a thing of great richness and delight; for it is a certain\r\n touch of the Divinity and is already the beginning [192] of the\r\n perfection of the union of love for which it hopes. Now the soul\r\n attains not to this touch of so sublime a sense and love of God, save\r\n when it has passed through many trials and a great part of its\r\n purgation. But for other touches which are much lower than these, and\r\n which are of ordinary occurrence, so much purgation is not needful.\r\n\r\n 7. From what we have said it may here be inferred how in these\r\n spiritual blessings, which are passively infused by God into the soul,\r\n the will may very well love even though the understanding understand\r\n not; and similarly the understanding may understand and the will love\r\n not. For, since this dark night of contemplation consists of Divine\r\n light and love, just as fire contains light and heat, it is not\r\n unbefitting that, when this loving light is communicated, it should\r\n strike the will at times more effectively by enkindling it with love\r\n and leaving the understanding in darkness instead of striking it with\r\n light; and, at other times, by enlightening it with light, and giving\r\n it understanding, but leaving the will in aridity (as it is also true\r\n that the heat of the fire can be received without the light being seen,\r\n and also the light of it can be seen without the reception of heat);\r\n and this is wrought by the Lord, Who infuses as He wills. [193]\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [184] Psalm l, 12 [A.V., li, 10].\r\n\r\n [185] [Lit., enamoured.']\r\n\r\n [186] Lamentations i, 13.\r\n\r\n [187] Psalm xi, 7 [A.V., xii, 6].\r\n\r\n [188] The Schoolmen frequently assert that the lower angels are purged\r\n and illumined by the higher. Cf. St. Thomas, Summa, I, q. 106, a. 1,\r\n ad. 1.\r\n\r\n [189] [Lit., and softens.']\r\n\r\n [190] [More literally, is sick.']\r\n\r\n [191] Psalm xxxviii, 4 [A.V., xxxix, 3].\r\n\r\n [192] [Lit., the beginnings.']\r\n\r\n [193] The Saint here treats a question often debated by philosophers\r\n and mystics--that of love and knowledge. Cf. also Spiritual Canticle,\r\n Stanza XVII, and Living Flame, Stanza III. Philosophers generally\r\n maintain that it is impossible to love without knowledge, and equally\r\n so to love more of an object than what is known of it. Mystics have,\r\n however, their own solutions of the philosophers' difficulty and the\r\n speculative Spanish mystics have much to say on the matter. (Cf., for\r\n example, the Medula Mistica, Trat. V, Chap. iv, and the Escuela de\r\n Oracion, Trat. XII, Duda v.)\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XIII\r\n\r\n Of other delectable effects which are wrought in the soul by this\r\n dark night of contemplation.\r\n\r\n THIS type of enkindling will explain to us certain of the delectable\r\n effects which this dark night of contemplation works in the soul. For\r\n at certain times, as we have just said, the soul becomes enlightened in\r\n the midst of all this darkness, and the light shines in the darkness;\r\n [194] this mystical intelligence flows down into the understanding and\r\n the will remains in dryness--I mean, without actual union of love, with\r\n a serenity and simplicity which are so delicate and delectable to the\r\n sense of the soul that no name can be given to them. Thus the presence\r\n of God is felt, now after one manner, now after another.\r\n\r\n 2. Sometimes, too, as has been said, it wounds the will at the same\r\n time, and enkindles love sublimely, tenderly and strongly; for we have\r\n already said that at certain times these two faculties, the\r\n understanding and the will, are united, when, the more they see, the\r\n more perfect and delicate is the purgation of the understanding. But,\r\n before this state is reached, it is more usual for the touch of the\r\n enkindling of love to be felt in the will than for the touch of\r\n intelligence to be felt in the understanding.\r\n\r\n 3. But one question arises here, which is this: Why, since these two\r\n faculties are being purged together, are the enkindling and the love of\r\n purgative contemplation at first more commonly felt in the will than\r\n the intelligence thereof is felt in the understanding? To this it may\r\n be answered that this passive love does not now directly strike the\r\n will, for the will is free, and this enkindling of love is a passion of\r\n love rather than the free act of the will; for this heat of love\r\n strikes the substance of the soul and thus moves the affections\r\n passively. And so this is called passion of love rather than a free act\r\n of the will, an act of the will being so called only in so far as it is\r\n free. But these passions and affections subdue the will, and therefore\r\n it is said that, if the soul conceives passion with a certain\r\n affection, the will conceives passion; and this is indeed so, for in\r\n this manner the will is taken captive and loses its liberty, according\r\n as the impetus and power of its passion carry it away. And therefore we\r\n can say that this enkindling of love is in the will--that is, it\r\n enkindles the desire of the will; and thus, as we say, this is called\r\n passion of love rather than the free work of the will. And, because the\r\n receptive passion of the understanding can receive intelligence only in\r\n a detached and passive way (and this is impossible without its having\r\n been purged), therefore until this happens the soul feels the touch of\r\n intelligence less frequently than that of the passion of love. For it\r\n is not necessary to this end that the will should be so completely\r\n purged with respect to the passions, since these very passions help it\r\n to feel impassioned love.\r\n\r\n 4. This enkindling and thirst of love, which in this case belongs to\r\n the spirit, is very different from that other which we described in\r\n writing of the night of sense. For, though the sense has also its part\r\n here, since it fails not to participate in the labour of the spirit,\r\n yet the source and the keenness of the thirst of love is felt in the\r\n superior part of the soul--that is, in the spirit. It feels, and\r\n understands what it feels and its lack of what it desires, in such a\r\n way that all its affliction of sense, although greater without\r\n comparison than in the first night of sense, is as naught to it,\r\n because it recognizes within itself the lack of a great good which can\r\n in no way be measured.\r\n\r\n 5. But here we must note that although, at the beginning, when this\r\n spiritual night commences, this enkindling of love is not felt, because\r\n this fire of love has not begun to take a hold, God gives the soul, in\r\n place of it, an estimative love of Himself so great that, as we have\r\n said, the greatest sufferings and trials of which it is conscious in\r\n this night are the anguished thoughts that it [195] has lost God and\r\n the fears that He has abandoned it. And thus we may always say that\r\n from the very beginning of this night the soul is touched with\r\n yearnings of love, which is now that of estimation, [196] and now\r\n again, that of enkindling. And it is evident that the greatest\r\n suffering which it feels in these trials is this misgiving; for, if it\r\n could be certified at that time that all is not lost and over, but that\r\n what is happening to it is for the best--as it is--and that God is not\r\n wroth, it would care naught for all these afflictions, but would\r\n rejoice to know that God is making use of them for His good pleasure.\r\n For the love of estimation which it has for God is so great, even\r\n though it may not realize this and may be in darkness, that it would be\r\n glad, not only to suffer in this way, but even to die many times over\r\n in order to give Him satisfaction. But when once the flame has\r\n enkindled the soul, it is wont to conceive, together with the\r\n estimation that it already has for God, such power and energy, and such\r\n yearning for Him, when He communicates to it the heat of love, that,\r\n with great boldness, it disregards everything and ceases to pay respect\r\n to anything, such are the power and the inebriation of love and desire.\r\n It regards not what it does, for it would do strange and unusual things\r\n in whatever way and manner may present themselves, if thereby its soul\r\n might find Him Whom it loves.\r\n\r\n 6. It was for this reason that Mary Magdalene, though as greatly\r\n concerned for her own appearance as she was aforetime, took no heed of\r\n the multitude of men who were at the feast, whether they were of little\r\n or of great importance; neither did she consider that it was not\r\n seemly, and that it looked ill, to go and weep and shed tears among the\r\n guests provided that, without delaying an hour or waiting for another\r\n time and season, she could reach Him for love of Whom her soul was\r\n already wounded and enkindled. And such is the inebriating power and\r\n the boldness of love, that, though she knew her Beloved to be enclosed\r\n in the sepulchre by the great sealed stone, and surrounded by soldiers\r\n who were guarding Him lest His disciples should steal Him away, [197]\r\n she allowed none of these things to impede her, but went before\r\n daybreak with the ointments to anoint Him.\r\n\r\n 7. And finally, this inebriating power and yearning of love caused her\r\n to ask one whom she believed to be a gardener and to have stolen Him\r\n away from the sepulchre, to tell her, if he had taken Him, where he had\r\n laid Him, that she might take Him away; [198] considering not that such\r\n a question, according to independent judgment and reason, was foolish;\r\n for it was evident that, if the other had stolen Him, he would not say\r\n so, still less would he allow Him to be taken away. It is a\r\n characteristic of the power and vehemence of love that all things seem\r\n possible to it, and it believes all men to be of the same mind as\r\n itself. For it thinks that there is naught wherein one may be employed,\r\n or which one may seek, save that which it seeks itself and that which\r\n it loves; and it believes that there is naught else to be desired, and\r\n naught wherein it may be employed, save that one thing, which is\r\n pursued by all. For this reason, when the Bride went out to seek her\r\n Beloved, through streets and squares, [199] thinking that all others\r\n were doing the same, she begged them that, if they found Him, they\r\n would speak to Him and say that she was pining for love of Him. [200]\r\n Such was the power of the love of this Mary that she thought that, if\r\n the gardener would tell her where he had hidden Him, she would go and\r\n take Him away, however difficult it might be made for her.\r\n\r\n 8. Of this manner, then, are the yearnings of love whereof this soul\r\n becomes conscious when it has made some progress in this spiritual\r\n purgation. For it rises up by night (that is, in this purgative\r\n darkness) according to the affections of the will. And with the\r\n yearnings and vehemence of the lioness or the she-bear going to seek\r\n her cubs when they have been taken away from her and she finds them\r\n not, does this wounded soul go forth to seek its God. For, being in\r\n darkness, it feels itself to be without Him and to be dying of love for\r\n Him. And this is that impatient love wherein the soul cannot long\r\n subsist without gaining its desire or dying. Such was Rachel's desire\r\n for children when she said to Jacob: Give me children, else shall I\r\n die.' [201]\r\n\r\n 9. But we have now to see how it is that the soul which feels itself so\r\n miserable and so unworthy of God, here in this purgative darkness, has\r\n nevertheless strength, and is sufficiently bold and daring, to journey\r\n towards union with God. The reason is that, as love continually gives\r\n it strength wherewith it may love indeed, and as the property of love\r\n is to desire to be united, joined and made equal and like to the object\r\n of its love, that it may perfect itself in love's good things, hence it\r\n comes to pass that, when this soul is not perfected in love, through\r\n not having as yet attained to union, the hunger and thirst that it has\r\n for that which it lacks (which is union) and the strength set by love\r\n in the will which has caused it to become impassioned, make it bold and\r\n daring by reason of the enkindling of its will, although in its\r\n understanding, which is still dark and unenlightened, it feels itself\r\n to be unworthy and knows itself to be miserable.\r\n\r\n 10. I will not here omit to mention the reason why this Divine light,\r\n which is always light to the soul, illumines it not as soon as it\r\n strikes it, as it does afterwards, but causes it the darkness and the\r\n trials of which we have spoken. Something has already been said\r\n concerning this, but the question must now be answered directly. The\r\n darkness and the other evils of which the soul is conscious when this\r\n Divine light strikes it are not darkness or evils caused by this light,\r\n but pertain to the soul itself, and the light illumines it so that it\r\n may see them. Wherefore it does indeed receive light from this Divine\r\n light; but the soul cannot see at first, by its aid, anything beyond\r\n what is nearest to it, or rather, beyond what is within it--namely, its\r\n darknesses or its miseries, which it now sees through the mercy of God,\r\n and saw not aforetime, because this supernatural light illumined it\r\n not. And this is the reason why at first it is conscious of nothing\r\n beyond darkness and evil; after it has been purged, however, by means\r\n of the knowledge and realization of these, it will have eyes to see, by\r\n the guidance of this light, the blessings of the Divine light; and,\r\n once all these darknesses and imperfections have been driven out from\r\n the soul, it seems that the benefits and the great blessings which the\r\n soul is gaining in this blessed night of contemplation become clearer.\r\n\r\n 11. From what has been said, it is clear that God grants the soul in\r\n this state the favour of purging it and healing it with this strong lye\r\n of bitter purgation, according to its spiritual and its sensual part,\r\n of all the imperfect habits and affections which it had within itself\r\n with respect to temporal things and to natural, sensual and spiritual\r\n things, its inward faculties being darkened, and voided of all these,\r\n its spiritual and sensual affections being constrained and dried up,\r\n and its natural energies being attenuated and weakened with respect to\r\n all this (a condition which it could never attain of itself, as we\r\n shall shortly say). In this way God makes it to die to all that is not\r\n naturally God, so that, once it is stripped and denuded of its former\r\n skin, He may begin to clothe it anew. And thus its youth is renewed\r\n like the eagle's and it is clothed with the new man, which, as the\r\n Apostle says, is created according to God. [202] This is naught else\r\n but His illumination of the understanding with supernatural light, so\r\n that it is no more a human understanding but becomes Divine through\r\n union with the Divine. In the same way the will is informed with Divine\r\n love, so that it is a will that is now no less than Divine, nor does it\r\n love otherwise than divinely, for it is made and united in one with the\r\n Divine will and love. So, too, is it with the memory; and likewise the\r\n affections and desires are all changed and converted divinely,\r\n according to God. And thus this soul will now be a soul of heaven,\r\n heavenly, and more Divine than human. All this, as we have been saying,\r\n and because of what we have said, God continues to do and to work in\r\n the soul by means of this night, illumining and enkindling it divinely\r\n with yearnings for God alone and for naught else whatsoever. For which\r\n cause the soul then very justly and reasonably adds the third line to\r\n the song, which says:\r\n\r\n . . . oh, happy chance!-- I went forth without being observed.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [194] St. John i, 5.\r\n\r\n [195] [Lit., the yearning to think of it.']\r\n\r\n [196] [The word translated estimation' might also be rendered '\r\n reverent love.' The love of estimation,' which has its seat in the\r\n understanding, is contrasted with the enkindling' or the love of\r\n desire,' which has its seat in the will. So elsewhere in this\r\n paragraph.]\r\n\r\n [197] St. John xx, 1 [St. Matthew xxvii, 62-6].\r\n\r\n [198] St. John xx, 15.\r\n\r\n [199] [Lit., outskirts,' 'suburbs.']\r\n\r\n [200] Canticles v, 8.\r\n\r\n [201] Genesis xxx, 1.\r\n\r\n [202] Ephesians iv, 4.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XIV\r\n\r\n Wherein are set down and explained the last three lines of the first\r\n stanza.\r\n\r\n THIS happy chance was the reason for which the soul speaks, in the next\r\n lines, as follows:\r\n\r\n I went forth without being observed, My house being now at rest.\r\n\r\n It takes the metaphor from one who, in order the better to accomplish\r\n something, leaves his house by night and in the dark, when those that\r\n are in the house are now at rest, so that none may hinder him. For this\r\n soul had to go forth to perform a deed so heroic and so rare--namely to\r\n become united with its Divine Beloved--and it had to leave its house,\r\n because the Beloved is not found save alone and without, in solitude.\r\n It was for this reason that the Bride desired to find Him alone,\r\n saying: ' Who would give Thee to me, my brother, that I might find Thee\r\n alone, without, and that my love might be communicated to Thee.' [203]\r\n It is needful for the enamoured soul, in order to attain to its desired\r\n end, to do likewise, going forth at night, when all the domestics in\r\n its house are sleeping and at rest--that is, when the low operations,\r\n passions and desires of the soul (who are the people of the household)\r\n are, because it is night, sleeping and at rest. When these are awake,\r\n they invariably hinder the soul from seeking its good, since they are\r\n opposed to its going forth in freedom. These are they of whom Our\r\n Saviour speaks in the Gospel, saying that they are the enemies of man.\r\n [204] And thus it would be meet that their operations and motions\r\n should be put to sleep in this night, to the end that they may not\r\n hinder the soul from attaining the supernatural blessings of the union\r\n of love of God, for, while these are alive and active, this cannot be.\r\n For all their work and their natural motions hinder, rather than aid,\r\n the soul's reception of the spiritual blessings of the union of love,\r\n inasmuch as all natural ability is impotent with respect to the\r\n supernatural blessings that God, by means of His own infusion, bestows\r\n upon the soul passively, secretly and in silence. And thus it is\r\n needful that all the faculties should receive this infusion, and that,\r\n in order to receive it, they should remain passive, and not interpose\r\n their own base acts and vile inclinations.\r\n\r\n 2. It was a happy chance for this soul that on this night God should\r\n put to sleep all the domestics in its house--that is, all the\r\n faculties, passions, affections and desires which live in the soul,\r\n both sensually and spiritually. For thus it went forth without being\r\n observed'--that is, without being hindered by these affections, etc.,\r\n for they were put to sleep and mortified in this night, in the darkness\r\n of which they were left, that they might not notice or feel anything\r\n after their own low and natural manner, and might thus be unable to\r\n hinder the soul from going forth from itself and from the house of its\r\n sensuality. And thus only could the soul attain to the spiritual union\r\n of perfect love of God.\r\n\r\n 3. Oh, how happy a chance is this for the soul which can free itself\r\n from the house of its sensuality! None can understand it, unless, as it\r\n seems to me, it be the soul that has experienced it. For such a soul\r\n will see clearly how wretched was the servitude in which it lay and to\r\n how many miseries it was subject when it was at the mercy of its\r\n faculties and desires, and will know how the life of the spirit is true\r\n liberty and wealth, bringing with it inestimable blessings. Some of\r\n these we shall point out, as we proceed, in the following stanzas,\r\n wherein it will be seen more clearly what good reason the soul has to\r\n sing of the happy chance of its passage from this dreadful night which\r\n has been described above.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [203] Canticles viii, 1.\r\n\r\n [204] St. Matthew x, 36.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XV\r\n\r\n Sets down the second stanza and its exposition.\r\n\r\n In darkness and secure, By the secret ladder, disguised--oh, happy\r\n chance!\r\n In darkness and concealment, My house being now at rest.\r\n\r\n IN this stanza the soul still continues to sing of certain properties\r\n of the darkness of this night, reiterating how great is the happiness\r\n which came to it through them. It speaks of them in replying to a\r\n certain tacit objection, saying that it is not to be supposed that,\r\n because in this night and darkness it has passed through so many\r\n tempests of afflictions, doubts, fears and horrors, as has been said,\r\n it has for that reason run any risk of being lost. On the contrary, it\r\n says, in the darkness of this night it has gained itself. For in the\r\n night it has freed itself and escaped subtly from its enemies, who were\r\n continually hindering its progress. For in the darkness of the night it\r\n changed its garments and disguised itself with three liveries and\r\n colours which we shall describe hereafter; and went forth by a very\r\n secret ladder, which none in the house knew, the which ladder, as we\r\n shall observe likewise in the proper place, is living faith. By this\r\n ladder the soul went forth in such complete hiding and concealment, in\r\n order the better to execute its purpose, that it could not fail to be\r\n in great security; above all since in this purgative night the desires,\r\n affections and passions of the soul are put to sleep, mortified and\r\n quenched, which are they that, when they were awake and alive,\r\n consented not to this.\r\n\r\n The first line, then, runs thus: [205]\r\n\r\n In darkness and secure.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [205] [Lit., The line, then, continues, and says thus.' In fact,\r\n however, the author is returning to the first line of the stanza.]\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XVI\r\n\r\n Explains how, though in darkness, the soul walks securely.\r\n\r\n THE darkness which the soul here describes relates, as we have said, to\r\n the desires and faculties, sensual, interior and spiritual, for all\r\n these are darkened in this night as to their natural light, so that,\r\n being purged in this respect, they may be illumined with respect to the\r\n supernatural. For the spiritual and the sensual desires are put to\r\n sleep and mortified, so that they can experience [206] nothing, either\r\n Divine or human; the affections of the soul are oppressed and\r\n constrained, so that they can neither move nor find support in\r\n anything; the imagination is bound and can make no useful reflection;\r\n the memory is gone; the understanding is in darkness, unable to\r\n understand anything; and hence the will likewise is arid and\r\n constrained and all the faculties are void and useless; and in addition\r\n to all this a thick and heavy cloud is upon the soul, keeping it in\r\n affliction, and, as it were, far away from God. [207] It is in this\r\n kind of darkness' that the soul says here it travelled 'securely.'\r\n\r\n 2. The reason for this has been clearly expounded; for ordinarily the\r\n soul never strays save through its desires or its tastes or its\r\n reflections or its understanding or its affections; for as a rule it\r\n has too much or too little of these, or they vary or go astray, and\r\n hence the soul becomes inclined to that which behoves it not.\r\n Wherefore, when all these operations and motions are hindered, it is\r\n clear that the soul is secure against being led astray by them; for it\r\n is free, not only from itself, but likewise from its other enemies,\r\n which are the world and the devil. For when the affections and\r\n operations of the soul are quenched, these enemies cannot make war upon\r\n it by any other means or in any other manner.\r\n\r\n 3. It follows from this that, the greater is the darkness wherein the\r\n soul journeys and the more completely is it voided of its natural\r\n operations, the greater is its security. For, as the Prophet says,\r\n [208] perdition comes to the soul from itself alone--that is, from its\r\n sensual and interior desires and operations; and good, says God, comes\r\n from Me alone. Wherefore, when it is thus hindered from following the\r\n things that lead it into evil, there will then come to it forthwith the\r\n blessings of union with God in its desires and faculties, which in that\r\n union He will make Divine and celestial. Hence, at the time of this\r\n darkness, if the soul considers the matter, it will see very clearly\r\n how little its desire and its faculties are being diverted to things\r\n that are useless and harmful; and how secure it is from vainglory and\r\n pride and presumption, vain and false rejoicing and many other things.\r\n It follows clearly, then, that, by walking in darkness, not only is the\r\n soul not lost, but it has even greatly gained, since it is here gaining\r\n the virtues.\r\n\r\n 4. But there is a question which at once arises here--namely, since the\r\n things of God are of themselves profitable to the soul and bring it\r\n gain and security, why does God, in this night, darken the desires and\r\n faculties with respect to these good things likewise, in such a way\r\n that the soul can no more taste of them or busy itself with them than\r\n with these other things, and indeed in some ways can do so less? The\r\n answer is that it is well for the soul to perform no operation touching\r\n spiritual things at that time and to have no pleasure in such things,\r\n because its faculties and desires are base, impure and wholly natural;\r\n and thus, although these faculties be given the desire and interest in\r\n things supernatural and Divine, they could not receive them save after\r\n a base and a natural manner, exactly in their own fashion. For, as the\r\n philosopher says, whatsoever is received comes to him that receives it\r\n after the manner of the recipient. Wherefore, since these natural\r\n faculties have neither purity nor strength nor capacity to receive and\r\n taste things that are supernatural after the manner of those things,\r\n which manner is Divine, but can do so only after their own manner,\r\n which is human and base, as we have said, it is meet that its faculties\r\n be in darkness concerning these Divine things likewise. Thus, being\r\n weaned and purged and annihilated in this respect first of all, they\r\n may lose that base and human way of receiving and acting, and thus all\r\n these faculties and desires of the soul may come to be prepared and\r\n tempered in such a way as to be able to receive, feel and taste that\r\n which is Divine and supernatural after a sublime and lofty manner,\r\n which is impossible if the old man die not first of all.\r\n\r\n 5. Hence it follows that all spiritual things, if they come not from\r\n above and be not communicated by the Father of lights to human desire\r\n and free will (howsoever much a man may exercise his taste and\r\n faculties for God, and howsoever much it may seem to the faculties that\r\n they are experiencing these things), will not be experienced after a\r\n Divine and spiritual manner, but after a human and natural manner, just\r\n as other things are experienced, for spiritual blessings go not from\r\n man to God, but come from God to man. With respect to this (if this\r\n were the proper place for it) we might here explain how there are many\r\n persons whose many tastes and affections and the operations of whose\r\n faculties are fixed upon God or upon spiritual things, and who may\r\n perhaps think that this is supernatural and spiritual, when it is\r\n perhaps no more than the most human and natural desires and actions.\r\n They regard these good things with the same disposition as they have\r\n for other things, by means of a certain natural facility which they\r\n possess for directing their desires and faculties to anything whatever.\r\n\r\n 6. If perchance we find occasion elsewhere in this book, we shall treat\r\n of this, describing certain signs which indicate when the interior\r\n actions and motions of the soul, with respect to communion with God,\r\n are only natural, when they are spiritual, and when they are both\r\n natural and spiritual. It suffices for us here to know that, in order\r\n that the interior motions and acts of the soul may come to be moved by\r\n God divinely, they must first be darkened and put to sleep and hushed\r\n to rest naturally as touching all their capacity and operation, until\r\n they have no more strength.\r\n\r\n 7. Therefore, O spiritual soul, when thou seest thy desire obscured,\r\n thy affections arid and constrained, and thy faculties bereft of their\r\n capacity for any interior exercise, be not afflicted by this, but\r\n rather consider it a great happiness, since God is freeing thee from\r\n thyself and taking the matter from thy hands. For with those hands,\r\n howsoever well they may serve thee, thou wouldst never labour so\r\n effectively, so perfectly and so securely (because of their clumsiness\r\n and uncleanness) as now, when God takes thy hand and guides thee in the\r\n darkness, as though thou wert blind, to an end and by a way which thou\r\n knowest not. Nor couldst thou ever hope to travel with the aid of thine\r\n own eyes and feet, howsoever good thou be as a walker.\r\n\r\n 8. The reason, again, why the soul not only travels securely, when it\r\n travels thus in the darkness, but also achieves even greater gain and\r\n progress, is that usually, when the soul is receiving fresh advantage\r\n and profit, this comes by a way that it least understands--indeed, it\r\n quite commonly believes that it is losing ground. For, as it has never\r\n experienced that new feeling which drives it forth and dazzles it and\r\n makes it depart recklessly from its former way of life, it thinks\r\n itself to be losing ground rather than gaining and progressing, since\r\n it sees that it is losing with respect to that which it knew and\r\n enjoyed, and is going by a way which it knows not and wherein it finds\r\n no enjoyment. It is like the traveller, who, in order to go to new and\r\n unknown lands, takes new roads, unknown and untried, and journeys\r\n unguided by his past experience, but doubtingly and according to what\r\n others say. It is clear that such a man could not reach new countries,\r\n or add to his past experience, if he went not along new and unknown\r\n roads and abandoned those which were known to him. Exactly so, one who\r\n is learning fresh details concerning any office or art always proceeds\r\n in darkness, and receives no guidance from his original knowledge, for\r\n if he left not that behind he would get no farther nor make any\r\n progress; and in the same way, when the soul is making most progress,\r\n it is travelling in darkness, knowing naught. Wherefore, since God, as\r\n we have said, is the Master and Guide of this blind soul, it may well\r\n and truly rejoice, once it has learned to understand this, and say: In\r\n darkness and secure.'\r\n\r\n 9. There is another reason why the soul has walked securely in this\r\n darkness, and this is because it has been suffering; for the road of\r\n suffering is more secure and even more profitable than that of fruition\r\n and action: first, because in suffering the strength of God is added to\r\n that of man, while in action and fruition the soul is practising its\r\n own weaknesses and imperfections; and second, because in suffering the\r\n soul continues to practise and acquire the virtues and become purer,\r\n wiser and more cautious.\r\n\r\n 10. But there is another and a more important reason why the soul now\r\n walks in darkness and securely; this emanates from the dark light or\r\n wisdom aforementioned. For in such a way does this dark night of\r\n contemplation absorb and immerse the soul in itself, and so near does\r\n it bring the soul to God, that it protects and delivers it from all\r\n that is not God. For this soul is now, as it were, undergoing a cure,\r\n in order that it may regain its health--its health being God Himself.\r\n His Majesty restricts it to a diet and abstinence from all things, and\r\n takes away its appetite for them all. It is like a sick man, who, if he\r\n is respected by those in his house, is carefully tended so that he may\r\n be cured; the air is not allowed to touch him, nor may he even enjoy\r\n the light, nor must he hear footsteps, nor yet the noise of those in\r\n the house; and he is given food that is very delicate, and even that\r\n only in great moderation--food that is nourishing rather than\r\n delectable.\r\n\r\n 11. All these particularities (which are for the security and\r\n safekeeping of the soul) are caused by this dark contemplation, because\r\n it brings the soul nearer to God. For the nearer the soul approaches\r\n Him, the blacker is the darkness which it feels and the deeper is the\r\n obscurity which comes through its weakness; just as, the nearer a man\r\n approaches the sun, the greater are the darkness and the affliction\r\n caused him through the great splendour of the sun and through the\r\n weakness and impurity of his eyes. In the same way, so immense is the\r\n spiritual light of God, and so greatly does it transcend our natural\r\n understanding, that the nearer we approach it, the more it blinds and\r\n darkens us. And this is the reason why, in Psalm xvii, David says that\r\n God made darkness His hiding-place and covering, and His tabernacle\r\n around Him dark water in the clouds of the air. [209] This dark water\r\n in the clouds of the air is dark contemplation and Divine wisdom in\r\n souls, as we are saying. They continue to feel it is a thing which is\r\n near Him, as the tabernacle wherein He dwells, when God brings them\r\n ever nearer to Himself. And thus, that which in God is supreme light\r\n and refulgence is to man blackest darkness, as Saint Paul says,\r\n according as David explains in the same Psalm, saying: Because of the\r\n brightness which is in His presence, passed clouds and cataracts' [210]\r\n --that is to say, over the natural understanding, the light whereof, as\r\n Isaias says in Chapter V: Obtenebrata est in caligine ejus. [211]\r\n\r\n 12. Oh, miserable is the fortune of our life, which is lived in such\r\n great peril and wherein it is so difficult to find the truth. For that\r\n which is most clear and true is to us most dark and doubtful;\r\n wherefore, though it is the thing that is most needful for us, we flee\r\n from it. And that which gives the greatest light and satisfaction to\r\n our eyes we embrace and pursue, though it be the worst thing for us,\r\n and make us fall at every step. In what peril and fear does man live,\r\n since the very natural light of his eyes by which he has to guide\r\n himself is the first light that dazzles him and leads him astray on his\r\n road to God! And if he is to know with certainty by what road he\r\n travels, he must perforce keep his eyes closed and walk in darkness,\r\n that he may be secure from the enemies who inhabit his own house--that\r\n is, his senses and faculties.\r\n\r\n 13. Well hidden, then, and well protected is the soul in these dark\r\n waters, when it is close to God. For, as these waters serve as a\r\n tabernacle and dwelling-place for God Himself, they will serve the soul\r\n in the same way and for a perfect protection and security, though it\r\n remain in darkness, wherein, as we have said, it is hidden and\r\n protected from itself, and from all evils that come from creatures; for\r\n to such the words of David refer in another Psalm, where he says: Thou\r\n shalt hide them in the hiding-place of Thy face from the disturbance of\r\n men; Thou shalt protect them in Thy tabernacle from the contradiction\r\n of tongues.' [212] Herein we understand all kinds of protection; for to\r\n be hidden in the face of God from the disturbance of men is to be\r\n fortified with this dark contemplation against all the chances which\r\n may come upon the soul from men. And to be protected in His tabernacle\r\n from the contradiction of tongues is for the soul to be engulfed in\r\n these dark waters, which are the tabernacle of David whereof we have\r\n spoken. Wherefore, since the soul has all its desires and affections\r\n weaned and its faculties set in darkness, it is free from all\r\n imperfections which contradict the spirit, whether they come from its\r\n own flesh or from other creatures. Wherefore this soul may well say\r\n that it journeys in darkness and secure.'\r\n\r\n 14. There is likewise another reason, which is no less effectual than\r\n the last, by which we may understand how the soul journeys securely in\r\n darkness; it is derived from the fortitude by which the soul is at once\r\n inspired in these obscure and afflictive dark waters of God. For after\r\n all, though the waters be dark, they are none the less waters, and\r\n therefore they cannot but refresh and fortify the soul in that which is\r\n most needful for it, although in darkness and with affliction. For the\r\n soul immediately perceives in itself a genuine determination and an\r\n effectual desire to do naught which it understands to be an offence to\r\n God, and to omit to do naught that seems to be for His service. For\r\n that dark love cleaves to the soul, causing it a most watchful care and\r\n an inward solicitude concerning that which it must do, or must not do,\r\n for His sake, in order to please Him. It will consider and ask itself a\r\n thousand times if it has given Him cause to be offended; and all this\r\n it will do with much greater care and solicitude than before, as has\r\n already been said with respect to the yearnings of love. For here all\r\n the desires and energies and faculties of the soul are recollected from\r\n all things else, and its effort and strength are employed in pleasing\r\n its God alone. After this manner the soul goes forth from itself and\r\n from all created things to the sweet and delectable union of love of\r\n God, In darkness and secure.'\r\n\r\n By the secret ladder, disguised.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [206] [Lit., taste.']\r\n\r\n [207] Some have considered this description exaggerated, but it must be\r\n borne in mind that all souls are not tested alike and the Saint is\r\n writing of those whom God has willed to raise to such sanctity that\r\n they drain the cup of bitterness to the dregs. We have already seen\r\n (Bk. I, chap. xiv, sect. 5) that all do not experience (this) after one\r\n manner . . . for (it) is meted out by the will of God, in conformity\r\n with the greater or the smaller degree of imperfection which each soul\r\n has to purge away, (and) in conformity, likewise, with the degree of\r\n love of union to which God is pleased to raise it' (Bk. I, chap xiv,\r\n above).\r\n\r\n [208] Osee xiii, 9.\r\n\r\n [209] Psalm xvii, 12 [A.V., xviii, 11].\r\n\r\n [210] Psalm xvii, 13 [A.V., xviii, 12].\r\n\r\n [211] Isaias v, 30.\r\n\r\n [212] Psalm xxx, 21 [A.V., xxxi, 20].\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XVII\r\n\r\n Explains how this dark contemplation is secret.\r\n\r\n THREE things have to be expounded with reference to three words\r\n contained in this present line. Two (namely, 'secret' and ladder')\r\n belong to the dark night of contemplation of which we are treating; the\r\n third (namely, disguised') belongs to the soul by reason of the manner\r\n wherein it conducts itself in this night. As to the first, it must be\r\n known that in this line the soul describes this dark contemplation, by\r\n which it goes forth to the union of love, as a secret ladder, because\r\n of the two properties which belong to it--namely, its being secret and\r\n its being a ladder. We shall treat of each separately.\r\n\r\n 2. First, it describes this dark contemplation as 'secret,' since, as\r\n we have indicated above, it is mystical theology, which theologians\r\n call secret wisdom, and which, as Saint Thomas says is communicated and\r\n infused into the soul through love. [213] This happens secretly and in\r\n darkness, so as to be hidden from the work of the understanding and of\r\n other faculties. Wherefore, inasmuch as the faculties aforementioned\r\n attain not to it, but the Holy Spirit infuses and orders it in the\r\n soul, as says the Bride in the Songs, without either its knowledge or\r\n its understanding, it is called secret. And, in truth, not only does\r\n the soul not understand it, but there is none that does so, not even\r\n the devil; inasmuch as the Master Who teaches the soul is within it in\r\n its substance, to which the devil may not attain, neither may natural\r\n sense nor understanding.\r\n\r\n 3. And it is not for this reason alone that it may be called secret,\r\n but likewise because of the effects which it produces in the soul. For\r\n it is secret not only in the darknesses and afflictions of purgation,\r\n when this wisdom of love purges the soul, and the soul is unable to\r\n speak of it, but equally so afterwards in illumination, when this\r\n wisdom is communicated to it most clearly. Even then it is still so\r\n secret that the soul cannot speak of it and give it a name whereby it\r\n may be called; for, apart from the fact that the soul has no desire to\r\n speak of it, it can find no suitable way or manner or similitude by\r\n which it may be able to describe such lofty understanding and such\r\n delicate spiritual feeling. And thus, even though the soul might have a\r\n great desire to express it and might find many ways in which to\r\n describe it, it would still be secret and remain undescribed. For, as\r\n that inward wisdom is so simple, so general and so spiritual that it\r\n has not entered into the understanding enwrapped or cloaked in any form\r\n or image subject to sense, it follows that sense and imagination (as it\r\n has not entered through them nor has taken their form and colour)\r\n cannot account for it or imagine it, so as to say anything concerning\r\n it, although the soul be clearly aware that it is experiencing and\r\n partaking of that rare and delectable wisdom. It is like one who sees\r\n something never seen before, whereof he has not even seen the like;\r\n although he might understand its nature and have experience of it, he\r\n would be unable to give it a name, or say what it is, however much he\r\n tried to do so, and this in spite of its being a thing which he had\r\n perceived with the senses. How much less, then, could he describe a\r\n thing that has not entered through the senses! For the language of God\r\n has this characteristic that, since it is very intimate and spiritual\r\n in its relations with the soul, it transcends every sense and at once\r\n makes all harmony and capacity of the outward and inward senses to\r\n cease and be dumb.\r\n\r\n 4. For this we have both authorities and examples in the Divine\r\n Scripture. For the incapacity of man to speak of it and describe it in\r\n words was shown by Jeremias, [214] when, after God had spoken with him,\r\n he knew not what to say, save Ah, ah, ah!' This interior\r\n incapacity--that is, of the interior sense of the imagination--and also\r\n that of the exterior sense corresponding to it was also demonstrated in\r\n the case of Moses, when he stood before God in the bush; [215] not only\r\n did he say to God that after speaking with Him he knew not neither was\r\n able to speak, but also that not even (as is said in the Acts of the\r\n Apostles) [216] with the interior imagination did he dare to meditate,\r\n for it seemed to him that his imagination was very far away and was too\r\n dumb, not only to express any part of that which he understood\r\n concerning God, but even to have the capacity to receive aught\r\n therefrom. Wherefore, inasmuch as the wisdom of this contemplation is\r\n the language of God to the soul, addressed by pure spirit to pure\r\n spirit, naught that is less than spirit, such as the senses, can\r\n perceive it, and thus to them it is secret, and they know it not,\r\n neither can they say it, [217] nor do they desire to do so, because\r\n they see it not.\r\n\r\n 5. We may deduce from this the reason why certain persons--good and\r\n fearful souls--who walk along this road and would like to give an\r\n account of their spiritual state to their director, [218] are neither\r\n able to do so nor know how. For the reason we have described, they have\r\n a great repugnance in speaking of it, especially when their\r\n contemplation is of the purer sort, so that the soul itself is hardly\r\n conscious of it. Such a person is only able to say that he is\r\n satisfied, tranquil and contented and that he is conscious of the\r\n presence of God, and that, as it seems to him, all is going well with\r\n him; but he cannot describe the state of his soul, nor can he say\r\n anything about it save in general terms like these. It is a different\r\n matter when the experiences of the soul are of a particular kind, such\r\n as visions, feelings, etc., which, being ordinarily received under some\r\n species wherein sense participates, can be described under that\r\n species, or by some other similitude. But this capacity for being\r\n described is not in the nature of pure contemplation, which is\r\n indescribable, as we have said, for the which reason it is called\r\n secret.\r\n\r\n 6. And not only for that reason is it called secret, and is so, but\r\n likewise because this mystical knowledge has the property of hiding the\r\n soul within itself. For, besides performing its ordinary function, it\r\n sometimes absorbs the soul and engulfs it in its secret abyss, in such\r\n a way that the soul clearly sees that it has been carried far away from\r\n every creature and; has become most remote therefrom; [219] so that it\r\n considers itself as having been placed in a most profound and vast\r\n retreat, to which no human creature can attain, such as an immense\r\n desert, which nowhere has any boundary, a desert the more delectable,\r\n pleasant and lovely for its secrecy, vastness and solitude, wherein,\r\n the more the soul is raised up above all temporal creatures, the more\r\n deeply does it find itself hidden. And so greatly does this abyss of\r\n wisdom raise up and exalt the soul at this time, making it to penetrate\r\n the veins of the science of love, that it not only shows it how base\r\n are all properties of the creatures by comparison with this supreme\r\n knowledge and Divine feeling, but likewise it learns how base and\r\n defective, and, in some measure, how inapt, are all the terms and words\r\n which are used in this life to treat of Divine things, and how\r\n impossible it is, in any natural way or manner, however learnedly and\r\n sublimely they may be spoken of, to be able to know and perceive them\r\n as they are, save by the illumination of this mystical theology. And\r\n thus, when by means of this illumination the soul discerns this truth,\r\n namely, that it cannot reach it, still less explain it, by common or\r\n human language, it rightly calls it secret.\r\n\r\n 7. This property of secrecy and superiority over natural capacity,\r\n which belongs to this Divine contemplation, belongs to it, not only\r\n because it is supernatural, but also inasmuch as it is a road that\r\n guides and leads the soul to the perfections of union with God; which,\r\n as they are things unknown after a human manner, must be approached,\r\n after a human manner, by unknowing and by Divine ignorance. For,\r\n speaking mystically, as we are speaking here, Divine things and\r\n perfections are known and understood as they are, not when they are\r\n being sought after and practised, but when they have been found and\r\n practised. To this purpose speaks the prophet Baruch concerning this\r\n Divine wisdom: There is none that can know her ways nor that can\r\n imagine her paths.' [220] Likewise the royal Prophet speaks in this\r\n manner concerning this road of the soul, when he says to God: Thy\r\n lightnings lighted and illumined the round earth; the earth was moved\r\n and trembled. Thy way is in the sea and Thy paths are in many waters;\r\n and Thy footsteps shall not be known.' [221]\r\n\r\n 8. All this, speaking spiritually, is to be understood in the sense\r\n wherein we are speaking. For the illumination of the round earth [222]\r\n by the lightnings of God is the enlightenment which is produced by this\r\n Divine contemplation in the faculties of the soul; the moving and\r\n trembling of the earth is the painful purgation which is caused\r\n therein; and to say that the way and the road of God whereby the soul\r\n journeys to Him is in the sea, and His footprints are in many waters\r\n and for this reason shall not be known, is as much as to say that this\r\n road whereby the soul journeys to God is as secret and as hidden from\r\n the sense of the soul as the way of one that walks on the sea, whose\r\n paths and footprints are not known, is hidden from the sense of the\r\n body. The steps and footprints which God is imprinting upon the souls\r\n that He desires to bring near to Himself, and to make great in union\r\n with His Wisdom, have also this property, that they are not known.\r\n Wherefore in the Book of Job mention is made of this matter, in these\r\n words: Hast thou perchance known the paths of the great clouds or the\r\n perfect knowledges?' [223] By this are understood the ways and roads\r\n whereby God continually exalts souls and perfects them in His Wisdom,\r\n which souls are here understood by the clouds. It follows, then, that\r\n this contemplation which is guiding the soul to God is secret wisdom.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [213] Propter hoc Gregorius (Hom. 14 in Ezech.) constituit vitam\r\n contemplativam in charitate Dei. Cf. Summa Theologica, 2a, 2ae, q. 45,\r\n a. 2.\r\n\r\n [214] Jeremias i, 6.\r\n\r\n [215] Exodus iv, 10 [cf. iii, 2].\r\n\r\n [216] Acts vii, 32.\r\n\r\n [217] [Or: and they know not how to say it nor are able to do so.']\r\n\r\n [218] [Lit., to him that rules them.']\r\n\r\n [219] [Lit., that is set most far away and most remote from every\r\n creatures.']\r\n\r\n [220] Baruch iii, 31.\r\n\r\n [221] Psalm lxxvi, 19-20 [A.V., lxxvii, 18-19].\r\n\r\n [222] [Lit., of the roundness of the earth.']\r\n\r\n [223] Job xxxvii, 16.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XVIII\r\n\r\n Explains how this secret wisdom is likewise a ladder.\r\n\r\n IT now remains to consider the second point--namely, how this secret\r\n wisdom is likewise a ladder. With respect to this it must be known that\r\n we can call this secret contemplation a ladder for many reasons. In the\r\n first place, because, just as men mount by means of ladders and climb\r\n up to possessions and treasures and things that are in strong places,\r\n even so also, by means of this secret contemplation, without knowing\r\n how, the soul ascends and climbs up to a knowledge and possession of\r\n [224] the good things and treasures of Heaven. This is well expressed\r\n by the royal prophet David, when he says: Blessed is he that hath Thy\r\n favour and help, for such a man hath placed in his heart ascensions\r\n into the vale of tears in the place which he hath appointed; for after\r\n this manner the Lord of the law shall give blessing, and they shall go\r\n from virtue to virtue as from step to step, and the God of gods shall\r\n be seen in Sion.' [225] This God is the treasure of the strong place of\r\n Sion, which is happiness.\r\n\r\n 2. We may also call it a ladder because, even as the ladder has those\r\n same steps in order that men may mount, it has them also that they may\r\n descend; even so is it likewise with this secret contemplation, for\r\n those same communications which it causes in the soul raise it up to\r\n God, yet humble it with respect to itself. For communications which are\r\n indeed of God have this property, that they humble the soul and at the\r\n same time exalt it. For, upon this road, to go down is to go up, and to\r\n go up, to go down, for he that humbles himself is exalted and he that\r\n exalts himself is humbled. [226] And besides the fact that the virtue\r\n of humility is greatness, for the exercise of the soul therein, God is\r\n wont to make it mount by this ladder so that it may descend, and to\r\n make it descend so that it may mount, that the words of the Wise Man\r\n may thus be fulfilled, namely: Before the soul is exalted, it is\r\n humbled; and before it is humbled, it is exalted.' [227]\r\n\r\n 3. Speaking now in a natural way, the soul that desires to consider it\r\n will be able to see how on this road (we leave apart the spiritual\r\n aspect, of which the soul is not conscious) it has to suffer many ups\r\n and downs, and how the prosperity which it enjoys is followed\r\n immediately by certain storms and trials; so much so, that it appears\r\n to have been given that period of calm in order that it might be\r\n forewarned and strengthened against the poverty which has followed;\r\n just as after misery and torment there come abundance and calm. It\r\n seems to the soul as if, before celebrating that festival, it has first\r\n been made to keep that vigil. This is the ordinary course and\r\n proceeding of the state of contemplation until the soul arrives at the\r\n state of quietness; it never remains in the same state for long\r\n together, but is ascending and descending continually.\r\n\r\n 4. The reason for this is that, as the state of perfection, which\r\n consists in the perfect love of God and contempt for self, cannot exist\r\n unless it have these two parts, which are the knowledge of God and of\r\n oneself, the soul has of necessity to be practised first in the one and\r\n then in the other, now being given to taste of the one--that is,\r\n exaltation--and now being made to experience the other--that is,\r\n humiliation--until it has acquired perfect habits; and then this\r\n ascending and descending will cease, since the soul will have attained\r\n to God and become united with Him, which comes to pass at the summit of\r\n this ladder, for the ladder rests and leans upon Him. For this ladder\r\n of contemplation, which, as we have said, comes down from God, is\r\n prefigured by that ladder which Jacob saw as he slept, whereon angels\r\n were ascending and descending, from God to man, and from man to God,\r\n Who Himself was leaning upon the end of the ladder. [228] All this,\r\n says Divine Scripture, took place by night, when Jacob slept, in order\r\n to express how secret is this road and ascent to God, and how different\r\n from that of man's knowledge. This is very evident, since ordinarily\r\n that which is of the greatest profit in it--namely, to be ever losing\r\n oneself and becoming as nothing [229] --is considered the worst thing\r\n possible; and that which is of least worth, which is for a soul to find\r\n consolation and sweetness (wherein it ordinarily loses rather than\r\n gains), is considered best.\r\n\r\n 5. But, speaking now somewhat more substantially and properly of this\r\n ladder of secret contemplation, we shall observe that the principal\r\n characteristic of contemplation, on account of which it is here called\r\n a ladder, is that it is the science of love. This, as we have said, is\r\n an infused and loving knowledge of God, which enlightens the soul and\r\n at the same time enkindles it with love, until it is raised up step by\r\n step, even unto God its Creator. For it is love alone that unites and\r\n joins the soul with God. To the end that this may be seen more clearly,\r\n we shall here indicate the steps of this Divine ladder one by one,\r\n pointing out briefly the marks and effects of each, so that the soul\r\n may conjecture hereby on which of them it is standing. We shall\r\n therefore distinguish them by their effects, as do Saint Bernard and\r\n Saint Thomas, [230] for to know them in themselves is not possible\r\n after a natural manner, inasmuch as this ladder of love is, as we have\r\n said, so secret that God alone is He that measures and weighs it.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [224] [Lit., rises to scale, know and possess.']\r\n\r\n [225] Psalm lxxxiii, 6 [A.V., lxxxiv, 7].\r\n\r\n [226] St. Luke xiv, 11.\r\n\r\n [227] Proverb xviii, 12.\r\n\r\n [228] Genesis xxviii, 12.\r\n\r\n [229] [Lit., and annihilating oneself.']\r\n\r\n [230] Ut dicit Bernardus, Magna res est amor, sed sunt in eo gradus.\r\n Loquendo ergo aliquantulum magis moraliter quam realiter, decem amoris\r\n gradus distinguere possumus (D. Thom., De dilectione Dei et proximi,\r\n cap. xxvii. Cf. Opusc. LXI of the edition of Venice, 1595).\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XIX\r\n\r\n Begins to explain the ten steps [231] of the mystic ladder of Divine\r\n love, according to Saint Bernard and Saint Thomas. The first five\r\n are here treated.\r\n\r\n WE observe, then, that the steps of this ladder of love by which the\r\n soul mounts, one by one, to God, are ten. The first step of love causes\r\n the soul to languish, and this to its advantage. The Bride is speaking\r\n from this step of love when she says: I adjure you, daughters of\r\n Jerusalem, that, if ye find my Beloved, ye tell Him that I am sick with\r\n love.' [232] This sickness, however, is not unto death, but for the\r\n glory of God, for in this sickness the soul swoons as to sin and as to\r\n all things that are not God, for the sake of God Himself, even as David\r\n testifies, saying: My soul hath swooned away' [233] --that is, with\r\n respect to all things, for Thy salvation. For just as a sick man first\r\n of all loses his appetite and taste for all food, and his colour\r\n changes, so likewise in this degree of love the soul loses its taste\r\n and desire for all things and changes its colour and the other\r\n accidentals of its past life, like one in love. The soul falls not into\r\n this sickness if excess of heat be not communicated to it from above,\r\n even as is expressed in that verse of David which says: Pluviam\r\n voluntariam segregabis, Deus, haereditati tuae, et infirmata est, [234]\r\n etc. This sickness and swooning to all things, which is the beginning\r\n and the first step on the road to God, we clearly described above, when\r\n we were speaking of the annihilation wherein the soul finds itself when\r\n it begins to climb [235] this ladder of contemplative purgation, when\r\n it can find no pleasure, support, consolation or abiding-place in\r\n anything soever. Wherefore from this step it begins at once to climb to\r\n the second.\r\n\r\n 2. The second step causes the soul to seek God without ceasing.\r\n Wherefore, when the Bride says that she sought Him by night upon her\r\n bed (when she had swooned away according to the first step of love) and\r\n found Him not, she said: I will arise and will seek Him Whom my soul\r\n loveth.' [236] This, as we say, the soul does without ceasing as David\r\n counsels it, saying: 'seek ye ever the face of God, and seek ye Him in\r\n all things, tarrying not until ye find Him;' [237] like the Bride, who,\r\n having enquired for Him of the watchmen, passed on at once and left\r\n them. Mary Magdalene did not even notice the angels at the sepulchre.\r\n [238] On this step the soul now walks so anxiously that it seeks the\r\n Beloved in all things. In whatsoever it thinks, it thinks at once of\r\n the Beloved. Of whatsoever it speaks, in whatsoever matters present\r\n themselves, it is speaking and communing at once with the Beloved. When\r\n it eats, when it sleeps, when it watches, when it does aught soever,\r\n all its care is about the Beloved, as is said above with respect to the\r\n yearnings of love. And now, as love begins to recover its health and\r\n find new strength in the love of this second step, it begins at once to\r\n mount to the third, by means of a certain degree [239] of new purgation\r\n in the night, as we shall afterwards describe, which produces in the\r\n soul the following effects.\r\n\r\n 3. The third step of the ladder of love is that which causes the soul\r\n to work and gives it fervour so that it fails not. Concerning this the\r\n royal Prophet says: ' Blessed is the man that feareth the Lord, for in\r\n His commandments he is eager to labour greatly.' [240] Wherefore if\r\n fear, being the son of love, causes within him this eagerness to\r\n labour, [241] what will be done by love itself? On this step the soul\r\n considers great works undertaken for the Beloved as small; many things\r\n as few; and the long time for which it serves Him as short, by reason\r\n of the fire of love wherein it is now burning. Even so to Jacob, though\r\n after seven years he had been made to serve seven more, they seemed few\r\n because of the greatness of his love. [242] Now if the love of a mere\r\n creature could accomplish so much in Jacob, what will love of the\r\n Creator be able to do when on this third step it takes possession of\r\n the soul? Here, for the great love which the soul bears to God, it\r\n suffers great pains and afflictions because of the little that it does\r\n for God; and if it were lawful for it to be destroyed a thousand times\r\n for Him it would be comforted. Wherefore it considers itself useless in\r\n all that it does and thinks itself to be living in vain. Another\r\n wondrous effect produced here in the soul is that it considers itself\r\n as being, most certainly, worse than all other souls: first, because\r\n love is continually teaching it how much is due to God; [243] and\r\n second, because, as the works which it here does for God are many and\r\n it knows them all to be faulty and imperfect, they all bring it\r\n confusion and affliction, for it realizes in how lowly a manner it is\r\n working for God, Who is so high. On this third step, the soul is very\r\n far from vainglory or presumption, and from condemning others. These\r\n anxious effects, with many others like them, are produced in the soul\r\n by this third step; wherefore it gains courage and strength from them\r\n in order to mount to the fourth step, which is that that follows.\r\n\r\n 4. The fourth step of this ladder of love is that whereby there is\r\n caused in the soul an habitual suffering because of the Beloved, yet\r\n without weariness. For, as Saint Augustine says, love makes all things\r\n that are great, grievous and burdensome to be almost naught. From this\r\n step the Bride was speaking when, desiring to attain to the last step,\r\n she said to the Spouse: 'set me as a seal upon thy heart, as a seal\r\n upon thine arm; for love--that is, the act and work of love--is strong\r\n as death, and emulation and importunity last as long as hell.' [244]\r\n The spirit here has so much strength that it has subjected the flesh\r\n and takes as little account of it as does the tree of one of its\r\n leaves. In no way does the soul here seek its own consolation or\r\n pleasure, either in God, or in aught else, nor does it desire or seek\r\n to pray to God for favours, for it sees clearly that it has already\r\n received enough of these, and all its anxiety is set upon the manner\r\n wherein it will be able to do something that is pleasing to God and to\r\n render Him some service such as He merits and in return for what it has\r\n received from Him, although it be greatly to its cost. The soul says in\r\n its heart and spirit: Ah, my God and Lord! How many are there that go\r\n to seek in Thee their own consolation and pleasure, and desire Thee to\r\n grant them favours and gifts; but those who long to do Thee pleasure\r\n and to give Thee something at their cost, setting their own interests\r\n last, are very few. The failure, my God, is not in Thy unwillingness to\r\n grant us new favours, but in our neglect to use those that we have\r\n received in Thy service alone, in order to constrain Thee to grant them\r\n to us continually. Exceeding lofty is this step of love; for, as the\r\n soul goes ever after God with love so true, imbued with the spirit of\r\n suffering for His sake, His Majesty oftentimes and quite habitually\r\n grants it joy, and visits it sweetly and delectably in the spirit; for\r\n the boundless love of Christ, the Word, cannot suffer the afflictions\r\n of His lover without succouring him. This He affirmed through Jeremias,\r\n saying: I have remembered thee, pitying thy youth and tenderness, when\r\n thou wentest after Me in the wilderness.' [245] Speaking spiritually,\r\n this denotes the detachment which the soul now has interiorly from\r\n every creature, so that it rests not and nowhere finds quietness. This\r\n fourth step enkindles the soul and makes it to burn in such desire for\r\n God that it causes it to mount to the fifth, which is that which\r\n follows.\r\n\r\n 5. The fifth step of this ladder of love makes the soul to desire and\r\n long for God impatiently. On this step the vehemence of the lover to\r\n comprehend the Beloved and be united with Him is such that every delay,\r\n however brief, becomes very long, wearisome and oppressive to it, and\r\n it continually believes itself to be finding the Beloved. And when it\r\n sees its desire frustrated (which is at almost every moment), it swoons\r\n away with its yearning, as says the Psalmist, speaking from this step,\r\n in these words: My soul longs and faints for the dwellings of the\r\n Lord.' [246] On this step the lover must needs see that which he loves,\r\n or die; at this step was Rachel, when, for the great longing that she\r\n had for children, she said to Jacob, her spouse: Give me children, else\r\n shall I die.' [247] Here men suffer hunger like dogs and go about and\r\n surround the city of God. On this step, which is one of hunger, [248]\r\n the soul is nourished upon love; for, even as is its hunger, so is its\r\n abundance; so that it rises hence to the sixth step, producing the\r\n effects which follow.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [231] [The word translated 'step' may also (and often more elegantly)\r\n be rendered degree.' The same word is kept, however, throughout the\r\n translation of this chapter except where noted below.]\r\n\r\n [232] Canticles v, 8.\r\n\r\n [233] Psalm cxlii, 7 [A.V., cxliii, 7].\r\n\r\n [234] Psalm lxvii, 10 [A.V., lxviii, 9].\r\n\r\n [235] [Lit., to enter (upon).']\r\n\r\n [236] Canticles iii, 2.\r\n\r\n [237] Psalm civ, 4 [A.V., cv, 4].\r\n\r\n [238] St. John xx.\r\n\r\n [239] [The word in the Spanish is that elsewhere translated 'step.']\r\n\r\n [240] Psalm cxi, 1 [A.V., cxii, 1].\r\n\r\n [241] [Lit., makes in him this labour of eagerness.']\r\n\r\n [242] Genesis xxix, 20.\r\n\r\n [243] [Lit., how much God merits.']\r\n\r\n [244] Canticles viii, 5.\r\n\r\n [245] Jeremias ii, 2.\r\n\r\n [246] Psalm lxxxiii, 2 [A.V., lxxxiv, 2].\r\n\r\n [247] Genesis xxx, 1.\r\n\r\n [248] [Lit., On this hungering step.']\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XX\r\n\r\n Wherein are treated the other five steps of love.\r\n\r\n ON the sixth step the soul runs swiftly to God and touches Him again\r\n and again; and it runs without fainting by reason of its hope. For here\r\n the love that has made it strong makes it to fly swiftly. Of this step\r\n the prophet Isaias speaks thus: ' The saints that hope in God shall\r\n renew their strength; they shall take wings as the eagle; they shall\r\n fly and shall not faint,' [249] as they did at the fifth step. To this\r\n step likewise alludes that verse of the Psalm: ' As the hart desires\r\n the waters, my soul desires Thee, O God.' [250] For the hart, in its\r\n thirst, runs to the waters with great swiftness. The cause of this\r\n swiftness in love which the soul has on this step is that its charity\r\n is greatly enlarged within it, since the soul is here almost wholly\r\n purified, as is said likewise in the Psalm, namely: Sine iniquitate\r\n cucurri. [251] And in another Psalm: I ran the way of Thy commandments\r\n when Thou didst enlarge my heart'; [252] and thus from this sixth step\r\n the soul at once mounts to the seventh, which is that which follows.\r\n\r\n 2. The seventh step of this ladder makes the soul to become vehement in\r\n its boldness. Here love employs not its judgment in order to hope, nor\r\n does it take counsel so that it may draw back, neither can any shame\r\n restrain it; for the favour which God here grants to the soul causes it\r\n to become vehement in its boldness. Hence follows that which the\r\n Apostle says, namely: That charity believeth all things, hopeth all\r\n things and is capable of all things. [253] Of this step spake Moses,\r\n when he entreated God to pardon the people, and if not, to blot out his\r\n name from the book of life wherein He had written it. [254] Men like\r\n these obtain from God that which they beg of Him with desire. Wherefore\r\n David says: Delight thou in God and He will give thee the petitions of\r\n thy heart.' [255] On this step the Bride grew bold, and said: Osculetur\r\n me osculo oris sui. [256] To this step it is not lawful for the soul to\r\n aspire boldly, unless it feel the interior favour of the King's sceptre\r\n extended to it, lest perchance it fall from the other steps which it\r\n has mounted up to this point, and wherein it must ever possess itself\r\n in humility. From this daring and power which God grants to the soul on\r\n this seventh step, so that it may be bold with God in the vehemence of\r\n love, follows the eighth, which is that wherein it takes the Beloved\r\n captive and is united with Him, as follows.\r\n\r\n 3. The eighth step of love causes the soul to seize Him and hold Him\r\n fast without letting Him go, even as the Bride says, after this manner:\r\n I found Him Whom my heart and soul love; I held Him and I will not let\r\n Him go.' [257] On this step of union the soul satisfies her desire, but\r\n not continuously. Certain souls climb some way, [258] and then lose\r\n their hold; for, if this state were to continue, it would be glory\r\n itself in this life; and thus the soul remains therein for very short\r\n periods of time. To the prophet Daniel, because he was a man of\r\n desires, was sent a command from God to remain on this step, when it\r\n was said to him: Daniel, stay upon thy step, because thou art a man of\r\n desires.' [259] After this step follows the ninth, which is that of\r\n souls now perfect, as we shall afterwards say, which is that that\r\n follows.\r\n\r\n 4. The ninth step of love makes the soul to burn with sweetness. This\r\n step is that of the perfect, who now burn sweetly in God. For this\r\n sweet and delectable ardour is caused in them by the Holy Spirit by\r\n reason of the union which they have with God. For this cause Saint\r\n Gregory says, concerning the Apostles, that when the Holy Spirit came\r\n upon them visibly they burned inwardly and sweetly through love. [260]\r\n Of the good things and riches of God which the soul enjoys on this\r\n step, we cannot speak; for if many books were to be written concerning\r\n it the greater part would still remain untold. For this cause, and\r\n because we shall say something of it hereafter, I say no more here than\r\n that after this follows the tenth and last step of this ladder of love,\r\n which belongs not to this life.\r\n\r\n 5. The tenth and last step of this secret ladder of love causes the\r\n soul to become wholly assimilated to God, by reason of the clear and\r\n immediate [261] vision of God which it then possesses; when, having\r\n ascended in this life to the ninth step, it goes forth from the flesh.\r\n These souls, who are few, enter not into purgatory, since they have\r\n already been wholly purged by love. Of these Saint Matthew says: Beati\r\n mundo corde: quoniam ipsi Deum videbunt. [262] And, as we say, this\r\n vision is the cause of the perfect likeness of the soul to God, for, as\r\n Saint John says, we know that we shall be like Him. [263] Not because\r\n the soul will come to have the capacity of God, for that is impossible;\r\n but because all that it is will become like to God, for which cause it\r\n will be called, and will be, God by participation.\r\n\r\n 6. This is the secret ladder whereof the soul here speaks, although\r\n upon these higher steps it is no longer very secret to the soul, since\r\n much is revealed to it by love, through the great effects which love\r\n produces in it. But, on this last step of clear vision, which is the\r\n last step of the ladder whereon God leans, as we have said already,\r\n there is naught that is hidden from the soul, by reason of its complete\r\n assimilation. Wherefore Our Saviour says: In that day ye shall ask Me\r\n nothing,' etc. [264] But, until that day, however high a point the soul\r\n may reach, there remains something hidden from it--namely, all that it\r\n lacks for total assimilation in the Divine Essence. After this manner,\r\n by this mystical theology and secret love, the soul continues to rise\r\n above all things and above itself, and to mount upward to God. For love\r\n is like fire, which ever rises upward with the desire to be absorbed in\r\n the centre of its sphere.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [249] Isaias xl, 31.\r\n\r\n [250] Psalm xli, 2 [A.V., xlii, 1].\r\n\r\n [251] Psalm lviii, 5 [A.V., lix, 4].\r\n\r\n [252] Psalm cxviii, 32 [A.V., cxix, 32].\r\n\r\n [253] 1 Corinthians xiii, 7.\r\n\r\n [254] Exodus xxxii, 31-2.\r\n\r\n [255] Psalm xxxvi, 4 [A.V., xxxvii, 4].\r\n\r\n [256] Canticles i, 1.\r\n\r\n [257] Canticles iii, 4.\r\n\r\n [258] [Lit., attain to setting their foot.']\r\n\r\n [259] Daniel x, 11.\r\n\r\n [260] Dum Deum in ignis visione suscipiunt, per amorem suaviter\r\n arserunt (Hom. XXX in Evang.).\r\n\r\n [261] [i.e., direct, not mediate.]\r\n\r\n [262] St. Matthew v, 8.\r\n\r\n [263] St. John iii, 2.\r\n\r\n [264] St. John xvi, 23.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XXI\r\n\r\n Which explains the word disguised,' and describes the colours of the\r\n disguise of the soul in this night.\r\n\r\n Now that we have explained the reasons why the soul called this\r\n contemplation a 'secret ladder,' it remains for us to explain likewise\r\n the word disguised,' and the reason why the soul says also that it went\r\n forth by this 'secret ladder' in ' disguise.'\r\n\r\n 2. For the understanding of this it must be known that to disguise\r\n oneself is naught else but to hide and cover oneself beneath another\r\n garb and figure than one's own--sometimes in order to show forth, under\r\n that garb or figure, the will and purpose which is in the heart to gain\r\n the grace and will of one who is greatly loved; sometimes, again, to\r\n hide oneself from one's rivals and thus to accomplish one's object\r\n better. At such times a man assumes the garments and livery which best\r\n represent and indicate the affection of his heart and which best\r\n conceal him from his rivals.\r\n\r\n 3. The soul, then, touched with the love of Christ the Spouse, and\r\n longing to attain to His grace and gain His goodwill, goes forth here\r\n disguised with that disguise which most vividly represents the\r\n affections of its spirit and which will protect it most securely on its\r\n journey from its adversaries and enemies, which are the devil, the\r\n world and the flesh. Thus the livery which it wears is of three chief\r\n colours--white, green and purple--denoting the three theological\r\n virtues, faith, hope and charity. By these the soul will not only gain\r\n the grace and goodwill of its Beloved, but it will travel in security\r\n and complete protection from its three enemies: for faith is an inward\r\n tunic of a whiteness so pure that it completely dazzles the eyes of the\r\n understanding. [265] And thus, when the soul journeys in its vestment\r\n of faith, the devil can neither see it nor succeed in harming it, since\r\n it is well protected by faith--more so than by all the other\r\n virtues--against the devil, who is at once the strongest and the most\r\n cunning of enemies.\r\n\r\n 4. It is clear that Saint Peter could find no better protection than\r\n faith to save him from the devil, when he said: Cui resistite fortes in\r\n fide. [266] And in order to gain the grace of the Beloved, and union\r\n with Him, the soul cannot put on a better vest and tunic, [267] to\r\n serve as a foundation and beginning of the other vestments of the\r\n virtues, than this white garment [268] of faith, for without it, as the\r\n Apostle says, it is impossible to please God, and with it, it is\r\n impossible to fail to please Him. For He Himself says through a\r\n prophet: Sponsabo te mihi in fide. [269] Which is as much as to say: If\r\n thou desirest, O soul, to be united and betrothed to Me, thou must come\r\n inwardly clad in faith.\r\n\r\n 5. This white garment of faith was worn by the soul on its going forth\r\n from this dark night, when, walking in interior constraint and\r\n darkness, as we have said before, it received no aid, in the form of\r\n light, from its understanding, neither from above, since Heaven seemed\r\n to be closed to it and God hidden from it, nor from below, since those\r\n that taught it satisfied it not. It suffered with constancy and\r\n persevered, passing through those trials without fainting or failing\r\n the Beloved, Who in trials and tribulations proves the faith of His\r\n Bride, so that afterwards she may truly repeat this saying of David,\r\n namely: By the words of Thy lips I kept hard ways.' [270]\r\n\r\n 6. Next, over this white tunic of faith the soul now puts on the second\r\n colour, which is a green vestment. By this, as we said, is signified\r\n the virtue of hope, wherewith, as in the first case, the soul is\r\n delivered and protected from the second enemy, which is the world. For\r\n this green colour of living hope in God gives the soul such ardour and\r\n courage and aspiration to the things of eternal life that, by\r\n comparison with what it hopes for therein, all things of the world seem\r\n to it to be, as in truth they are, dry and faded and dead and nothing\r\n worth. The soul now divests and strips itself of all these worldly\r\n vestments and garments, setting its heart upon naught that is in the\r\n world and hoping for naught, whether of that which is or of that which\r\n is to be, but living clad only in the hope of eternal life. Wherefore,\r\n when the heart is thus lifted up above the world, not only can the\r\n world neither touch the heart nor lay hold on it, but it cannot even\r\n come within sight of it.\r\n\r\n 7. And thus, in this green livery and disguise, the soul journeys in\r\n complete security from this second enemy, which is the world. For Saint\r\n Paul speaks of hope as the helmet of salvation [271] --that is, a piece\r\n of armour that protects the whole head, and covers it so that there\r\n remains uncovered only a visor through which it may look. And hope has\r\n this property, that it covers all the senses of the head of the soul,\r\n so that there is naught soever pertaining to the world in which they\r\n can be immersed, nor is there an opening through which any arrow of the\r\n world can wound them. It has a visor, however, which the soul is\r\n permitted to use so that its eyes may look upward, but nowhere else;\r\n for this is the function which hope habitually performs in the soul,\r\n namely, the directing of its eyes upwards to look at God alone, even as\r\n David declared that his eyes were directed, when he said: Oculi mei\r\n semper ad Dominum. [272] He hoped for no good thing elsewhere, save as\r\n he himself says in another Psalm: Even as the eyes of the handmaid are\r\n set upon the hands of her mistress, even so are our eyes set upon our\r\n Lord God, until He have mercy upon us as we hope in Him.' [273]\r\n\r\n 8. For this reason, because of this green livery (since the soul is\r\n ever looking to God and sets its eyes on naught else, neither is\r\n pleased with aught save with Him alone), the Beloved has such great\r\n pleasure with the soul that it is true to say that the soul obtains\r\n from Him as much as it hopes for from Him. Wherefore the Spouse in the\r\n Songs tells the Bride that, by looking upon Him with one eye alone, she\r\n has wounded His heart. [274] Without this green livery of hope in God\r\n alone it would be impossible for the soul to go forth to encompass this\r\n loving achievement, for it would have no success, since that which\r\n moves and conquers is the importunity of hope.\r\n\r\n 9. With this livery of hope the soul journeys in disguise through this\r\n secret and dark night whereof we have spoken; for it is so completely\r\n voided of every possession and support that it fixes its eyes and its\r\n care upon naught but God, putting its mouth in the dust, [275] if so be\r\n there may be hope--to repeat the quotation made above from Jeremias.\r\n [276]\r\n\r\n 10. Over the white and the green vestments, as the crown and perfection\r\n of this disguise and livery, the soul now puts on the third colour,\r\n which is a splendid garment of purple. By this is denoted the third\r\n virtue, which is charity. This not only adds grace to the other two\r\n colours, but causes the soul to rise to so lofty a point that it is\r\n brought near to God, and becomes very beautiful and pleasing to Him, so\r\n that it makes bold to say: Albeit I am black, O daughters of Jerusalem,\r\n I am comely; wherefore the King hath loved me and hath brought me into\r\n His chambers.' [277] This livery of charity, which is that of love, and\r\n causes greater love in the Beloved, not only protects the soul and\r\n hides it from the third enemy, which is the flesh (for where there is\r\n true love of God there enters neither love of self nor that of the\r\n things of self), but even gives worth to the other virtues, bestowing\r\n on them vigour and strength to protect the soul, and grace and beauty\r\n to please the Beloved with them, for without charity no virtue has\r\n grace before God. This is the purple which is spoken of in the Songs,\r\n [278] upon which God reclines. Clad in this purple livery the soul\r\n journeys when (as has been explained above in the first stanza) it goes\r\n forth from itself in the dark night, and from all things created,\r\n kindled in love with yearnings,' by this secret ladder of\r\n contemplation, to the perfect union of love of God, its beloved\r\n salvation. [279]\r\n\r\n 11. This, then, is the disguise which the soul says that it wears in\r\n the night of faith, upon this secret ladder, and these are its three\r\n colours. They constitute a most fit preparation for the union of the\r\n soul with God, according to its three faculties, which are\r\n understanding, memory and will. For faith voids and darkens the\r\n understanding as to all its natural intelligence, and herein prepares\r\n it for union with Divine Wisdom. Hope voids and withdraws the memory\r\n from all creature possessions; for, as Saint Paul says, hope is for\r\n that which is not possessed; [280] and thus it withdraws the memory\r\n from that which it is capable of possessing, and sets it on that for\r\n which it hopes. And for this cause hope in God alone prepares the\r\n memory purely for union with God. Charity, in the same way, voids and\r\n annihilates the affections and desires of the will for whatever is not\r\n God, and sets them upon Him alone; and thus this virtue prepares this\r\n faculty and unites it with God through love. And thus, since the\r\n function of these virtues is the withdrawal of the soul from all that\r\n is less than God, their function is consequently that of joining it\r\n with God.\r\n\r\n 12. And thus, unless it journeys earnestly, clad in the garments of\r\n these three virtues, it is impossible for the soul to attain to the\r\n perfection of union with God through love. Wherefore, in order that the\r\n soul might attain that which it desired, which was this loving and\r\n delectable union with its Beloved, this disguise and clothing which it\r\n assumed was most necessary and convenient. And likewise to have\r\n succeeded in thus clothing itself and persevering until it should\r\n obtain the end and aspiration which it had so much desired, which was\r\n the union of love, was a great and happy chance, wherefore in this line\r\n the soul also says:\r\n\r\n Oh, happy chance!\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [265] [Lit., that it dislocates the sight of all understanding.']\r\n\r\n [266] 1 St. Peter v, 9.\r\n\r\n [267] [Lit., a better undershirt and tunic.']\r\n\r\n [268] [Lit., this whiteness.']\r\n\r\n [269] Osee, ii, 20.\r\n\r\n [270] Psalm xvi, 4 [A.V., xvii, 4].\r\n\r\n [271] 1 Thessalonians v, 8.\r\n\r\n [272] Psalm xxiv, 15 [A.V., xxv, 15].\r\n\r\n [273] Psalm cxxii, 2 [A.V., cxxiii, 2].\r\n\r\n [274] Canticles iv, 9.\r\n\r\n [275] Lamentations iii, 29.\r\n\r\n [276] Ibid. [For the quotation, see Bk. II, chap. viii, sect. 1,\r\n above.]\r\n\r\n [277] Canticles i, 3. [A.V., i, 4.] [For chambers' the Spanish has\r\n bed.']\r\n\r\n [278] Canticles iii, 10.\r\n\r\n [279] [Or health.']\r\n\r\n [280] Romans viii, 24.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XXII\r\n\r\n Explains the third [281] line of the second stanza.\r\n\r\n IT is very clear that it was a happy chance for this soul to go forth\r\n with such an enterprise as this, for it was its going forth that\r\n delivered it from the devil and from the world and from its own\r\n sensuality, as we have said. Having attained liberty of spirit, so\r\n precious and so greatly desired by all, it went forth from low things\r\n to high; from terrestrial, it became celestial; from human, Divine.\r\n Thus it came to have its conversation in the heavens, as has the soul\r\n in this state of perfection, even as we shall go on to say in what\r\n follows, although with rather more brevity.\r\n\r\n 2. For the most important part of my task, and the part which chiefly\r\n led me to undertake it, was the explanation of this night to many souls\r\n who pass through it and yet know nothing about it, as was said in the\r\n prologue. Now this explanation and exposition has already been half\r\n completed. Although much less has been said of it than might be said,\r\n we have shown how many are the blessings which the soul bears with it\r\n through the night and how happy is the chance whereby it passes through\r\n it, so that, when a soul is terrified by the horror of so many trials,\r\n it is also encouraged by the certain hope of so many and such precious\r\n blessings of God as it gains therein. And furthermore, for yet another\r\n reason, this was a happy chance for the soul; and this reason is given\r\n in the following line:\r\n\r\n In darkness and in concealment.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [281] i.e., in the original Spanish and in our verse rendering of the\r\n poem in The Complete Works of St. John of the Cross, Ed. by E. Allison\r\n Peers, Vol. II (The Newman Press, Westminster, Md.).\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XXIII\r\n\r\n Expounds the fourth line [282] and describes the wondrous hiding\r\n place wherein the soul is set during this night. Shows how, although\r\n the devil has an entrance into other places that are very high, he\r\n has none into this.\r\n\r\n IN concealment' is as much as to say in a hiding-place,' or in hiding';\r\n and thus, what the soul here says (namely, that it went forth in\r\n darkness and in concealment') is a more complete explanation of the\r\n great security which it describes itself in the first line of the\r\n stanza as possessing, by means of this dark contemplation upon the road\r\n of the union of the love of God.\r\n\r\n 2. When the soul, then, says in darkness and in concealment,' it means\r\n that, inasmuch as it journeyed in darkness after the manner\r\n aforementioned, it went in hiding and in concealment from the devil and\r\n from his wiles and stratagems. The reason why, as it journeys in the\r\n darkness of this contemplation, the soul is free, and is hidden from\r\n the stratagems of the devil, is that the infused contemplation which it\r\n here possesses is infused into it passively and secretly, without the\r\n knowledge of the senses and faculties, whether interior or exterior, of\r\n the sensual part. And hence it follows that, not only does it journey\r\n in hiding, and is free from the impediment which these faculties can\r\n set in its way because of its natural weakness, but likewise from the\r\n devil; who, except through these faculties of the sensual part, cannot\r\n reach or know that which is in the soul, nor that which is taking place\r\n within it. Wherefore, the more spiritual, the more interior and the\r\n more remote from the senses is the communication, the farther does the\r\n devil fall short of understanding it.\r\n\r\n 3. And thus it is of great importance for the security of the soul that\r\n its inward communication with God should be of such a kind that its\r\n very senses of the lower part will remain in darkness [283] and be\r\n without knowledge of it, and attain not to it: first, so that it may be\r\n possible for the spiritual communication to be more abundant, and that\r\n the weakness of its sensual part may not hinder the liberty of its\r\n spirit; secondly because, as we say, the soul journeys more securely\r\n since the devil cannot penetrate so far. In this way we may understand\r\n that passage where Our Saviour, speaking in a spiritual sense, says:\r\n Let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth.' [284] Which is\r\n as though He had said: Let not thy left hand know that which takes\r\n place upon thy right hand, which is the higher and spiritual part of\r\n the soul; that is, let it be of such a kind that the lower portion of\r\n thy soul, which is the sensual part, may not attain to it; let it be a\r\n secret between the spirit and God alone.\r\n\r\n 4. It is quite true that oftentimes, when these very intimate and\r\n secret spiritual communications are present and take place in the soul,\r\n although the devil cannot get to know of what kind and manner they are,\r\n yet the great repose and silence which some of them cause in the senses\r\n and the faculties of the sensual part make it clear to him that they\r\n are taking place and that the soul is receiving a certain blessing from\r\n them. And then, as he sees that he cannot succeed in thwarting them in\r\n the depth of the soul, he does what he can to disturb and disquiet the\r\n sensual part--that part to which he is able to attain--now by means of\r\n afflictions, now by terrors and fears, with intent to disquiet and\r\n disturb the higher and spiritual part of the soul by this means, with\r\n respect to that blessing which it then receives and enjoys. But often,\r\n when the communication of such contemplation makes its naked assault\r\n upon the soul and exerts its strength upon it, the devil, with all his\r\n diligence, is unable to disturb it; rather the soul receives a new and\r\n a greater advantage and a securer peace. For, when it feels the\r\n disturbing presence of the enemy, then--wondrous thing!--without\r\n knowing how it comes to pass, and without any efforts of its own, it\r\n enters farther into its own interior depths, feeling that it is indeed\r\n being set in a sure refuge, where it perceives itself to be most\r\n completely withdrawn and hidden from the enemy. And thus its peace and\r\n joy, which the devil is attempting to take from it, are increased; and\r\n all the fear that assails it remains without; and it becomes clearly\r\n and exultingly conscious of its secure enjoyment of that quiet peace\r\n and sweetness of the hidden Spouse, which neither the world nor the\r\n devil can give it or take from it. In that state, therefore, it\r\n realizes the truth of the words of the Bride about this, in the Songs,\r\n namely: 'see how threescore strong men surround the bed of Solomon,\r\n etc., because of the fears of the night.' [285] It is conscious of this\r\n strength and peace, although it is often equally conscious that its\r\n flesh and bones are being tormented from without.\r\n\r\n 5. At other times, when the spiritual communication is not made in any\r\n great measure to the spirit, but the senses have a part therein, the\r\n devil more easily succeeds in disturbing the spirit and raising a\r\n tumult within it, by means of the senses, with these terrors. Great are\r\n the torment and the affliction which are then caused in the spirit; at\r\n times they exceed all that can be expressed. For, when there is a naked\r\n contact of spirit with spirit, the horror is intolerable which the evil\r\n spirit causes in the good spirit (I mean, in the soul), when its tumult\r\n reaches it. This is expressed likewise by the Bride in the Songs, when\r\n she says that it has happened thus to her at a time when she wished to\r\n descend to interior recollection in order to have fruition of these\r\n blessings. She says: I went down into the garden of nuts to see the\r\n apples of the valleys, and if the vine had flourished. I knew not; my\r\n soul troubled me because of the chariots'--that is, because of the\r\n chariots and the noise of Aminadab, which is the devil. [286]\r\n\r\n 6. At other times it comes to pass that the devil is occasionally able\r\n to see certain favours which God is pleased to grant the soul when they\r\n are bestowed upon it by the mediation of a good angel; for of those\r\n favours which come through a good angel God habitually allows the enemy\r\n to have knowledge: partly so that he may do that which he can against\r\n them according to the measure of justice, and that thus he may not be\r\n able to allege with truth that no opportunity is given him for\r\n conquering the soul, as he said concerning Job. [287] This would be the\r\n case if God allowed not a certain equality between the two\r\n warriors--namely, the good angel and the bad--when they strive for the\r\n soul, so that the victory of either may be of the greater worth, and\r\n the soul that is victorious and faithful in temptation may be the more\r\n abundantly rewarded.\r\n\r\n 7. We must observe, therefore, that it is for this reason that, in\r\n proportion as God is guiding the soul and communing with it, He gives\r\n the devil leave to act with it after this manner. When the soul has\r\n genuine visions by the instrumentality of the good angel (for it is by\r\n this instrumentality that they habitually come, even though Christ\r\n reveal Himself, for He scarcely ever appears [288] in His actual\r\n person), God also gives the wicked angel leave to present to the soul\r\n false visions of this very type in such a way that the soul which is\r\n not cautious may easily be deceived by their outward appearance, as\r\n many souls have been. Of this there is a figure in Exodus, [289] where\r\n it is said that all the genuine signs that Moses wrought were wrought\r\n likewise in appearance by the magicians of Pharaoh. If he brought forth\r\n frogs, they brought them forth likewise; if he turned water into blood,\r\n they did the same.\r\n\r\n 8. And not only does the evil one imitate God in this type of bodily\r\n vision, but he also imitates and interferes in spiritual communications\r\n which come through the instrumentality of an angel, when he succeeds in\r\n seeing them, as we say (for, as Job said [290] : Omne sublime videt).\r\n These, however, as they are without form and figure (for it is the\r\n nature of spirit to have no such thing), he cannot imitate and\r\n counterfeit like those others which are presented under some species or\r\n figure. And thus, in order to attack the soul, in the same way as that\r\n wherein it is being visited, his fearful spirit presents a similar\r\n vision in order to attack and destroy spiritual things by spiritual.\r\n When this comes to pass just as the good angel is about to communicate\r\n spiritual contemplation to the soul, it is impossible for the soul to\r\n shelter itself in the secrecy and hiding-place of contemplation with\r\n sufficient rapidity not to be observed by the devil; and thus he\r\n appears to it and produces a certain horror and perturbation of spirit\r\n which at times is most distressing to the soul. Sometimes the soul can\r\n speedily free itself from him, so that there is no opportunity for the\r\n aforementioned horror of the evil spirit to make an impression on it;\r\n and it becomes recollected within itself, being favoured, to this end,\r\n by the effectual spiritual grace that the good angel then communicates\r\n to it.\r\n\r\n 9. At other times the devil prevails and encompasses the soul with a\r\n perturbation and horror which is a greater affliction to it than any\r\n torment in this life could be. For, as this horrible communication\r\n passes direct from spirit to spirit, in something like nakedness and\r\n clearly distinguished from all that is corporeal, it is grievous beyond\r\n what every sense can feel; and this lasts in the spirit for some time,\r\n yet not for long, for otherwise the spirit would be driven forth from\r\n the flesh by the vehement communication of the other spirit. Afterwards\r\n there remains to it the memory thereof, which is sufficient to cause it\r\n great affliction.\r\n\r\n 10. All that we have here described comes to pass in the soul\r\n passively, without its doing or undoing anything of itself with respect\r\n to it. But in this connection it must be known that, when the good\r\n angel permits the devil to gain this advantage of assailing the soul\r\n with this spiritual horror, he does it to purify the soul and to\r\n prepare it by means of this spiritual vigil for some great spiritual\r\n favour and festival which he desires to grant it, for he never\r\n mortifies save to give life, nor humbles save to exalt, which comes to\r\n pass shortly afterwards. Then, according as was the dark and horrible\r\n purgation which the soul suffered, so is the fruition now granted it of\r\n a wondrous and delectable spiritual contemplation, sometimes so lofty\r\n that there is no language to describe it. But the spirit has been\r\n greatly refined by the preceding horror of the evil spirit, in order\r\n that it may be able to receive this blessing; for these spiritual\r\n visions belong to the next life rather than to this, and when one of\r\n them is seen this is a preparation for the next.\r\n\r\n 11. This is to be understood with respect to occasions when God visits\r\n the soul by the instrumentality of a good angel, wherein, as has been\r\n said, the soul is not so totally in darkness and in concealment that\r\n the enemy cannot come within reach of it. But, when God Himself visits\r\n it, then the words of this line are indeed fulfilled, and it is in\r\n total darkness and in concealment from the enemy that the soul receives\r\n these spiritual favours of God. The reason for this is that, as His\r\n Majesty dwells substantially in the soul, where neither angel nor devil\r\n can attain to an understanding of that which comes to pass, they cannot\r\n know the intimate and secret communications which take place there\r\n between the soul and God. These communications, since the Lord Himself\r\n works them, are wholly Divine and sovereign, for they are all\r\n substantial touches of Divine union between the soul and God; in one of\r\n which the soul receives a greater blessing than in all the rest, since\r\n this is the loftiest degree [291] of prayer in existence.\r\n\r\n 12. For these are the touches that the Bride entreated of Him in the\r\n Songs, saying: Osculetur me osculo oris sui. [292] Since this is a\r\n thing which takes place in such close intimacy with God, whereto the\r\n soul desires with such yearnings to attain, it esteems and longs for a\r\n touch of this Divinity more than all the other favours that God grants\r\n it. Wherefore, after many such favours have been granted to the Bride\r\n in the said Songs, of which she has sung therein, she is not satisfied,\r\n but entreats Him for these Divine touches, saying: ' Who shall give\r\n Thee to me, my brother, that I might find Thee alone without, sucking\r\n the breasts of my mother, so that I might kiss Thee with the mouth of\r\n my soul, and that thus no man should despise me or make bold to attack\r\n me.' [293] By this she denotes the communication which God Himself\r\n alone makes to her, as we are saying, far from all the creatures and\r\n without their knowledge, for this is meant by alone and without,\r\n sucking, etc.'--that is, drying up and draining the breasts of the\r\n desires and affections of the sensual part of the soul. This takes\r\n place when the soul, in intimate peace and delight, has fruition of\r\n these blessings, with liberty of spirit, and without the sensual part\r\n being able to hinder it, or the devil to thwart it by means thereof.\r\n And then the devil would not make bold to attack it, for he would not\r\n reach it, neither could he attain to an understanding of these Divine\r\n touches in the substance of the soul in the loving substance of God.\r\n\r\n 13. To this blessing none attains save through intimate purgation and\r\n detachment and spiritual concealment from all that is creature; it\r\n comes to pass in the darkness, as we have already explained at length\r\n and as we say with respect to this line. The soul is in concealment and\r\n in hiding, in the which hiding-place, as we have now said, it continues\r\n to be strengthened in union with God through love, wherefore it sings\r\n this in the same phrase, saying: In darkness and in concealment.'\r\n\r\n 14. When it comes to pass that those favours are granted to the soul in\r\n concealment (that is, as we have said, in spirit only), the soul is\r\n wont, during some of them, and without knowing how this comes to pass,\r\n to see itself so far withdrawn and separated according to the higher\r\n and spiritual part, from the sensual and lower portion, that it\r\n recognizes in itself two parts so distinct from each other that it\r\n believes that the one has naught to do with the other, but that the one\r\n is very remote and far withdrawn from the other. And in reality, in a\r\n certain way, this is so; for the operation is now wholly spiritual, and\r\n the soul receives no communication in its sensual part. In this way the\r\n soul gradually becomes wholly spiritual; and in this hiding-place of\r\n unitive contemplation its spiritual desires and passions are to a great\r\n degree removed and purged away. And thus, speaking of its higher part,\r\n the soul then says in this last line:\r\n\r\n My house being now at rest. [294]\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [282] i.e., in the original Spanish and in our verse rendering of the\r\n poem in The Complete Works of St. John of the Cross, Ed. by E. Allison\r\n Peers, Vol. II (The Newman Press, Westminster, Md.).\r\n\r\n [283] [The Spanish also admits of the rendering: remain shut off from\r\n it by darkness.']\r\n\r\n [284] Matthew vi, 3.\r\n\r\n [285] Canticles iii, 7-8.\r\n\r\n [286] Canticles vi, 10 [A.V., vi, 11-12].\r\n\r\n [287] Job i, 1-11.\r\n\r\n [288] Such is the unanimous opinion of theologians. Some, with St.\r\n Thomas (Pt. III, q. 57, a. 6), suppose that the appearance which\r\n converted St. Paul near Damascus was that of Our Lord Jesus Christ in\r\n person.\r\n\r\n [289] Exodus vii, 11-22; viii, 7.\r\n\r\n [290] Job xli, 25.\r\n\r\n [291] [Lit., 'step.' Cf. Bk. II, chap. xix, first note, above.]\r\n\r\n [292] Canticles i, 1.\r\n\r\n [293] Canticles viii, 1.\r\n\r\n [294] The word translated at rest' is a past participle: more\r\n literally, 'stilled.'\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XXIV\r\n\r\n Completes the explanation of the second stanza.\r\n\r\n THIS is as much as to say: The higher portion of my soul being like the\r\n lower part also, at rest with respect to its desires and faculties, I\r\n went forth to the Divine union of the love of God.\r\n\r\n 2. Inasmuch as, by means of that war of the dark night, as has been\r\n said, the soul is combated and purged after two manners--namely,\r\n according to its sensual and its spiritual part--with its senses,\r\n faculties and passions, so likewise after two manners--namely,\r\n according to these two parts, the sensual and the spiritual--with all\r\n its faculties and desires, the soul attains to an enjoyment of peace\r\n and rest. For this reason, as has likewise been said, the soul twice\r\n pronounces this line--namely, [295] in this stanza and in the\r\n last--because of these two portions of the soul, the spiritual and the\r\n sensual, which, in order that they may go forth to the Divine union of\r\n love, must needs first be reformed, ordered and tranquillized with\r\n respect to the sensual and to the spiritual, according to the nature of\r\n the state of innocence which was Adam's. [296] And thus this line\r\n which, in the first stanza, was understood of the repose of the lower\r\n and sensual portion, is, in this second stanza, understood more\r\n particularly of the higher and spiritual part; for which reason it is\r\n repeated. [297]\r\n\r\n 3. This repose and quiet of this spiritual house the soul comes to\r\n attain, habitually and perfectly (in so far as the condition of this\r\n life allows), by means of the acts of the substantial touches of Divine\r\n union whereof we have just spoken; which, in concealment, and hidden\r\n from the perturbation of the devil, and of its own senses and passions,\r\n the soul has been receiving from the Divinity, wherein it has been\r\n purifying itself, as I say, resting, strengthening and confirming\r\n itself in order to be able to receive the said union once and for all,\r\n which is the Divine betrothal between the soul and the Son of God. As\r\n soon as these two houses of the soul have together become tranquillized\r\n and strengthened, with all their domestics--namely, the faculties and\r\n desires--and have put these domestics to sleep and made them to be\r\n silent with respect to all things, both above and below, this Divine\r\n Wisdom immediately unites itself with the soul by making a new bond of\r\n loving possession, and there is fulfilled that which is written in the\r\n Book of Wisdom, in these words: Dum quietum silentium contineret omnia,\r\n et nox in suo cursu medium iter haberet, omnipotens sermo tuus Domine a\r\n regalibus sedibus. [298] The same thing is described by the Bride in\r\n the Songs, [299] where she says that, after she had passed by those who\r\n stripped her of her mantle by night and wounded her, she found Him Whom\r\n her soul loved.\r\n\r\n 4. The soul cannot come to this union without great purity, and this\r\n purity is not gained without great detachment from every created thing\r\n and sharp mortification. This is signified by the stripping of the\r\n Bride of her mantle and by her being wounded by night as she sought and\r\n went after the Spouse; for the new mantle which belonged to the\r\n betrothal could not be put on until the old mantle was stripped off.\r\n Wherefore, he that refuses to go forth in the night aforementioned to\r\n seek the Beloved, and to be stripped of his own will and to be\r\n mortified, but seeks Him upon his bed and at his own convenience, as\r\n did the Bride, [300] will not succeed in finding Him. For this soul\r\n says of itself that it found Him by going forth in the dark and with\r\n yearnings of love.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [295] [Lit., twice repeats'--a loosely used phrase.]\r\n\r\n [296] H omits this last phrase, which is found in all the other\r\n Codices, and in e.p. The latter adds: notwithstanding that the soul is\r\n not wholly free from the temptations of the lower part.' The addition\r\n is made so that the teaching of the Saint may not be confused with that\r\n of the Illuminists, who supposed the contemplative in union to be\r\n impeccable, do what he might. The Saint's meaning is that for the\r\n mystical union of the soul with God such purity and tranquillity of\r\n senses and faculties are needful that his condition resembles that\r\n state of innocence in which Adam was created, but without the attribute\r\n of impeccability, which does not necessarily accompany union, nor can\r\n be attained by any, save by a most special privilege of God. Cf. St.\r\n Teresa's Interior Castle, VII, ii. St. Teresa will be found\r\n occasionally to explain points of mystical doctrine which St. John of\r\n the Cross takes as being understood.\r\n\r\n [297] [Lit., twice repeated.']\r\n\r\n [298] Wisdom xviii, 14.\r\n\r\n [299] Canticles v, 7.\r\n\r\n [300] Canticles iii, 1.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XXV\r\n\r\n Wherein is expounded the third stanza.\r\n\r\n In the happy night, In secret, when none saw me, Nor I beheld aught,\r\n Without light or guide, save that which burned in my heart.\r\n\r\nEXPOSITION\r\n\r\n THE soul still continues the metaphor and similitude of temporal night\r\n in describing this its spiritual night, and continues to sing and extol\r\n the good properties which belong to it, and which in passing through\r\n this night it found and used, to the end that it might attain its\r\n desired goal with speed and security. Of these properties it here sets\r\n down three.\r\n\r\n 2. The first, it says, is that in this happy night of contemplation God\r\n leads the soul by a manner of contemplation so solitary and secret, so\r\n remote and far distant from sense, that naught pertaining to it, nor\r\n any touch of created things, succeeds in approaching the soul in such a\r\n way as to disturb it and detain it on the road of the union of love.\r\n\r\n 3. The second property whereof it speaks pertains to the spiritual\r\n darkness of this night, wherein all the faculties of the higher part of\r\n the soul are in darkness. The soul sees naught, neither looks at aught\r\n neither stays in aught that is not God, to the end that it may reach\r\n Him, inasmuch as it journeys unimpeded by obstacles of forms and\r\n figures, and of natural apprehensions, which are those that are wont to\r\n hinder the soul from uniting with the eternal Being of God.\r\n\r\n 4. The third is that, although as it journeys it is supported by no\r\n particular interior light of understanding, nor by any exterior guide,\r\n that it may receive satisfaction therefrom on this lofty road--it is\r\n completely deprived of all this by this thick darkness--yet its love\r\n alone, which burns at this time, and makes its heart to long for the\r\n Beloved, is that which now moves and guides it, and makes it to soar\r\n upward to its God along the road of solitude, without its knowing how\r\n or in what manner.\r\n\r\n There follows the line:\r\n\r\n In the happy night. [301]\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n [301] Thus end the majority of the MSS. Cf. pp. lxviii-lxiii, Ascent of\r\n Mount Carmel (Image Books edition), 26-27, on the incomplete state of\r\n this treatise. The MSS. say nothing of this, except that in the Alba de\r\n Tormes MS. we read: Thus far wrote the holy Fray John of the Cross\r\n concerning the purgative way, wherein he treats of the active and the\r\n passive [aspect] of it as is seen in the treatise of the Ascent of the\r\n Mount and in this of the Dark Night, and, as he died, he wrote no more.\r\n And hereafter follows the illuminative way, and then the unitive.'\r\n Elsewhere we have said that the lack of any commentary on the last five\r\n stanzas is not due to the Saint's death, since he lived for many years\r\n after writing the commentary on the earlier stanzas.\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n Indexes\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nIndex of Scripture References\r\n\r\n Genesis\r\n\r\n [1]21:8 [2]28:12 [3]29:20 [4]30:1 [5]30:1\r\n\r\n Exodus\r\n\r\n [6]3:2 [7]4:10 [8]7:11-22 [9]8:7 [10]16:3 [11]32:31-32\r\n [12]33:5\r\n\r\n Numbers\r\n\r\n [13]11:5-6\r\n\r\n Deuteronomy\r\n\r\n [14]6:5\r\n\r\n Job\r\n\r\n [15]1:1-11 [16]2:7-8 [17]3:24 [18]7:2-4 [19]7:20 [20]7:20\r\n [21]12:22 [22]16:12-16 [23]16:13-17 [24]19:21 [25]23:6\r\n [26]30:16 [27]30:17 [28]37:16 [29]41:25\r\n\r\n Psalms\r\n\r\n [30]6:11-12 [31]11:7 [32]12:6 [33]16:4 [34]17:4 [35]17:12\r\n [36]17:13 [37]17:13 [38]18:11 [39]18:12 [40]18:12 [41]24:15\r\n [42]25:15 [43]29:7 [44]30:6 [45]30:21 [46]31:20 [47]36:4\r\n [48]37:4 [49]37:9 [50]38:3 [51]38:4 [52]38:8 [53]38:12\r\n [54]39:2 [55]39:3 [56]39:11 [57]41:2 [58]41:3 [59]42:1\r\n [60]42:2 [61]50:12 [62]50:19 [63]51:10 [64]51:17 [65]58:5\r\n [66]58:10 [67]58:15-16 [68]59:4 [69]59:9 [70]59:14-15\r\n [71]62:2 [72]62:3 [73]63:1 [74]63:1-2 [75]67:10 [76]68:2-4\r\n [77]68:9 [78]69:1-3 [79]72:21 [80]72:22 [81]73:21-22\r\n [82]73:22 [83]76:4 [84]76:7 [85]76:19-20 [86]77:3-4\r\n [87]77:6 [88]77:18-19 [89]83:2 [90]83:6 [91]84:2 [92]84:7\r\n [93]84:9 [94]85:8 [95]87:6-8 [96]87:9 [97]88:5-7 [98]88:8\r\n [99]96:2 [100]97:2 [101]104:4 [102]105:4 [103]111:1\r\n [104]112:1 [105]118:32 [106]119:32 [107]122:2 [108]123:2\r\n [109]138:12 [110]139:12 [111]142:3 [112]142:7 [113]143:3-4\r\n [114]143:7 [115]147:17\r\n\r\n Proverbs\r\n\r\n [116]18:12\r\n\r\n Song of Solomon\r\n\r\n [117]1:1 [118]1:1 [119]1:3 [120]1:4 [121]3:1 [122]3:2\r\n [123]3:4 [124]3:7-8 [125]3:10 [126]4:9 [127]5:7 [128]5:8\r\n [129]5:8 [130]6:4 [131]6:10 [132]8:1 [133]8:1 [134]8:5\r\n\r\n Isaiah\r\n\r\n [135]5:30 [136]19:14 [137]26:9 [138]26:17-18 [139]28:9\r\n [140]28:19 [141]40:31 [142]58:10 [143]64:4\r\n\r\n Jeremiah\r\n\r\n [144]1:6 [145]2:2 [146]31:18\r\n\r\n Lamentations\r\n\r\n [147]1:13 [148]3:1-20 [149]3:9 [150]3:9 [151]3:17 [152]3:17\r\n [153]3:28 [154]3:29 [155]3:44\r\n\r\n Ezekiel\r\n\r\n [156]24:10 [157]24:11\r\n\r\n Daniel\r\n\r\n [158]10:11\r\n\r\n Hosea\r\n\r\n [159]2:20 [160]2:20 [161]13:9\r\n\r\n Jonah\r\n\r\n [162]2:1 [163]2:3-6 [164]2:4-7\r\n\r\n Habakkuk\r\n\r\n [165]2:1\r\n\r\n Matthew\r\n\r\n [166]5:8 [167]6:3 [168]7:3 [169]7:14 [170]7:14 [171]7:14\r\n [172]10:36 [173]16:25 [174]23:24 [175]25:8 [176]27:62-66\r\n\r\n Luke\r\n\r\n [177]14:11 [178]18:11-12\r\n\r\n John\r\n\r\n [179]1:5 [180]3:2 [181]3:6 [182]16:23 [183]20 [184]20:1\r\n [185]20:15\r\n\r\n Acts\r\n\r\n [186]7:32\r\n\r\n Romans\r\n\r\n [187]8:24\r\n\r\n 1 Corinthians\r\n\r\n [188]2:9 [189]2:10 [190]13:6 [191]13:7 [192]13:11\r\n\r\n 2 Corinthians\r\n\r\n [193]6:10\r\n\r\n Ephesians\r\n\r\n [194]4:4 [195]4:24\r\n\r\n Philippians\r\n\r\n [196]4:7\r\n\r\n 1 Thessalonians\r\n\r\n [197]5:8\r\n\r\n 1 Peter\r\n\r\n [198]5:9\r\n\r\n Revelation\r\n\r\n [199]3:8\r\n\r\n Tobit\r\n\r\n [200]8:2 [201]8:2\r\n\r\n Wisdom of Solomon\r\n\r\n [202]3:6 [203]7:11 [204]7:24 [205]9:15 [206]16:21 [207]18:14\r\n\r\n Baruch\r\n\r\n [208]3:31\r\n\r\n Sirach\r\n\r\n [209]34:9-10 [210]51:19-21 [211]51:28-9\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\nIndex of Latin Words and Phrases\r\n\r\n * [212]Cor mundum crea in me, Deus\r\n * [213]Dum Deum in ignis visione suscipiunt, per amorem suaviter\r\n arserunt\r\n * [214]Dum quietum silentium contineret omnia, et nox in suo cursu\r\n medium iter haberet, omnipotens sermo tuus Domine a regalibus\r\n sedibus\r\n * [215]Omne sublime videt\r\n * [216]Osculetur me osculo oris sui\r\n * [217]Propter hoc Gregorius (Hom. 14 in Ezech.) constituit vitam\r\n contemplativam in charitate Dei.\r\n * [218]Spiritus vertiginis\r\n * [219]Ut dicit Bernardus, Magna res est amor, sed sunt in eo gradus.\r\n Loquendo ergo aliquantulum magis moraliter quam realiter, decem\r\n amoris gradus distinguere possumus\r\n * [220]agnusdei\r\n * [221]agnusdeis\r\n * [222]cervus\r\n * [223]hebetudo mentis\r\n __________________________________________________________________\r\n\r\n This document is from the Christian Classics Ethereal\r\n Library at Calvin College, http:\/\/www.ccel.org,\r\n generated on demand from ThML source.\r\n\r\nReferences\r\n\r\n 1. file:\/\/localhost\/ccel\/j\/john_cross\/dark_night\/cache\/dark_night.html3#vii.xii-p2.2\r\n 2. file:\/\/localhost\/ccel\/j\/john_cross\/dark_night\/cache\/dark_night.html3#viii.xviii-p5.2\r\n 3. file:\/\/localhost\/ccel\/j\/john_cross\/dark_night\/cache\/dark_night.html3#viii.xix-p4.6\r\n 4. file:\/\/localhost\/ccel\/j\/john_cross\/dark_night\/cache\/dark_night.html3#viii.xiii-p9.2\r\n 5. file:\/\/localhost\/ccel\/j\/john_cross\/dark_night\/cache\/dark_night.html3#viii.xix-p6.5\r\n 6. file:\/\/localhost\/ccel\/j\/john_cross\/dark_night\/cache\/dark_night.html3#viii.xvii-p5.5\r\n 7. file:\/\/localhost\/ccel\/j\/john_cross\/dark_night\/cache\/dark_night.html3#viii.xvii-p5.4\r\n 8. file:\/\/localhost\/ccel\/j\/john_cross\/dark_night\/cache\/dark_night.html3#viii.xxiii-p8.3\r\n 9. file:\/\/localhost\/ccel\/j\/john_cross\/dark_night\/cache\/dark_night.html3#viii.xxiii-p8.4\r\n 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file:\/\/localhost\/ccel\/j\/john_cross\/dark_night\/cache\/dark_night.html3#viii.xviii-p6.2\r\n 220. file:\/\/localhost\/ccel\/j\/john_cross\/dark_night\/cache\/dark_night.html3#vii.iii-p2.3\r\n 221. file:\/\/localhost\/ccel\/j\/john_cross\/dark_night\/cache\/dark_night.html3#vii.iii-p2.1\r\n 222. file:\/\/localhost\/ccel\/j\/john_cross\/dark_night\/cache\/dark_night.html3#viii.xi-p7.5\r\n 223. file:\/\/localhost\/ccel\/j\/john_cross\/dark_night\/cache\/dark_night.html3#viii.ii-p3.1<\/pre>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"__________________________________________________________________ Title: Dark Night of the Soul Creator(s): John of the Cross, St. (1542-1591) Practical theology Practical religion. The Christian life Mysticism __________________________________________________________________ DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL by Saint John of the Cross DOCTOR OF THE CHURCH THIRD REVISED EDITION Translated and edited, with an Introduction, by E. ALLISON PEERS from the critical edition…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"twitterCardType":"","cardImageID":0,"cardImage":"","cardTitle":"","cardDesc":"","cardImageAlt":"","cardPlayer":"","cardPlayerWidth":0,"cardPlayerHeight":0,"cardPlayerStream":"","cardPlayerCodec":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-4695","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/purposedriven.ca\/wiki\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4695","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/purposedriven.ca\/wiki\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/purposedriven.ca\/wiki\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purposedriven.ca\/wiki\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purposedriven.ca\/wiki\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4695"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/purposedriven.ca\/wiki\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4695\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/purposedriven.ca\/wiki\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4695"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purposedriven.ca\/wiki\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4695"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purposedriven.ca\/wiki\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4695"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}