Dark Night of the Soul

Die 2 Martii. 1908. Of St. Luke's, Wincanton. in 20l4with fundirr^ from Lyrasis IVIembers and Sloan Foundation THE general purpose of the Mystical Writings of St. John of the Cross has been explained in the Introduction to the " Ascent of Mount Carmel." That work and the " Dark Night of the Soul " supplement each other. The former deals with the active purgation of the senses, the intellect and the will, that is, with the need for, and the manner of, a complete mortification of these powers, so far as with God's grace, it can be carried out by man's own exertions. The "Dark Night" treats of -the passive purgation of the same faculties, brought about by Divine intervention which steps in where human endeavours fail."^ The two books were written about the same time, soon after St. John's escape from captivity in 1578. Both have for their text the stanzas he appears to have composed in memory of that event, and both are left unfinished. The Saint * " The Ascent of Mount Carmel," by St. John of the Cross, translated by David Lewis. Nov edition. London: Thomas Baker, 1906. Introduction, p. 17. seems to have interrupted the former work in order to turn to the latter, but the exigencies of various duties imposed on him prevented the completion of these treatises. In the "Ascent" one half of the third and the whole of the fourth book are wanting ; it is not known how much he had originally intended to write on the " Dark Night/' certain it is that he only explained two out of eight stanzas, and dealt summarily with the third. Even so the most difficult, and therefore the most important, part of his plan seems to have been carried out, and what is wanting may be supplemented from his other writings, notably the interpretation of the " Spiritual Canticle." In the two works under consideration he takes the reader over the most dangerous ground and leaves him only where personal guidance is no longer required.

The *' Dark Night," though only a short treatise in comparison with the remaining works of St. John of the Cross, is perhaps from a practical point of view the most important of the whole series. Instructions for beginners may be found in abundance ; even the Night of the sense, as St. John informs us* has had numerous exponents ; but in the Night of the spirit he breaks fresh ground. If it is one of God's ordinances that all spiritual life must be regulated by a director so that pitfalls may be avoided, a soul plunged into the Night of the spirit depends .more than any other upon the intelligent guidance of an experienced director, partly on account of its natural reluctance to proceed along a path beset with so many difficulties, partly because the very fact of its being in darkness prevents it from seeing clearly with its own eyes. In the " Ascent " and the " Dark Night " St. John has traced the way with admirable lucidity and simplicity, but these books, especially the latter, are chiefly addressed to the director. It is impossible to read them without gaining the conviction that his is the absolutely safe way ; there may be others, less straight, less rugged, but neither so safe or so direct.

St. John, taking his position on the firm basis of the psychology and theology of St. Thomas Aquinas, and guiding himself by the light of Holy * " Dark Night," I, VIII, 2. Scripture, pitilesslY dissects the_ soul and its operations, separating not only what is dangerous or unsound, but everything that is not directly conducive to his ultimate aim, the__uniQn_of the human_will with the holy will of God. A work of this magnitude must be begun by God, and accomplished by Him. The beginning consists in the grace of vocation, the end in the beatific vision. Between these two there lies a vast distance which it takes a lifetime to cover, where the generous and intelligent co-operation of the soul is indispensable. This is partly active, and consists in the systematic denial of everything that could give satisfaction to body or soul, as explained in the " Ascent " ; and partly passive (as shown in the '' Dark Night ") wherejthe^soul assists God's operation by submitting to His chastising hand, like a patient under the knife of the surgeon. The number of souls called to the contemplative life in its widest sense is even now-a-days greater than is commonly supposed. They are not confined to Rehgious Orders, but are to be found in every station of hfe, and in every country, for

" the spirit breatheth where it will." Many proceed no farther than the initial stages ; few persevere as far as the spiritual night ; while those who attain to perfection are but exceptions. " Many praise and bless Jesus as long as they receive some consolation from Him, but if He hide Himself and leave them for a little while, they fall either into complaining or into excessive dejection."* This general falling off may be partly attributed to a want of understanding and guidance which St. John in the book before us undertakes to remedy. It may be useful for some readers of St. John's works to find here a short sketch of the experiences a soul generally makes on its journey through th^j^ealms of^ysticism. Let us suppose that it has been unexpectedly struck by a ray of Divine grace. It may never really have been estranged from God since the day of baptism, or it may have strayed, no essential difference would result therefrom, because motion is determined not so much by the direction whence it proceeds but whither it tends. Such a soul, then, finds a delight, * Imitation, II, ii. hitherto unknown, in spiritual matters ; a new chord has been touched and set vibrating, the whole world seems transfigured, God's work becomes visible and palpable in every blade of grass, His interests absorb all earthly pursuits ; the human heart has found and holds fast a treasure of incomparable value ; heaven has descended upon earth. " This is he that heareth the word and immediately receiveth it with joy." Such an experience is indeed a great grace, but it does not last. True spirituality consists not in sentiments but in the exercise of virtue. The first impulse is not strong enough to carry the soul very far in its flight heavenwards. The question arises how best to utilise this initial motive power ? St. John gives the answer in the " Ascent." Almost ruthlessly he tears off the brilliant surface so as to save the substance. The first ray has indeed transfigured the heart but has not transformed it. There remain many dangerous germs, the weaknesses and shortcomings of human nature. The very warmth of paradise, the dew descending abundantly upon a tender heart might develop these so that " the last state of that man

is made worse than the first." They must, therefore be destroyed by a long process of self-denial. St. John teaches the beginner how to mortify his senses and faculties, sacrificing even much that in itself is good, in order to strengthen the soul by the simple exercise of Faith, Hope and Charity, and the four cardinal virtues. This is the active purgation. But this represents only the smaller portion of the work to be done. However, it prepares the way for Him who '' searcheth the reins and hearts." The passive purgation follows closely upon, and sometimes accompanies the former. The passive purgation of the sense is not merely a reaction from the exultation of the first awakening to spiritual fife, it cuts far deeper. Were it only a reaction it would end in lukewarmness, but he who is being tried by God, so far from growing indifferent, becomes the more diligent in seeking God, the more God appears to hide Himself, for he feels His absence keenly. " It is a great thing, says the author of the Imitation, forestalling St. John of the Cross, a very great thing to be able to do without all solace. both human and divine, and to be wilHng to bear this exile of the heart for the honour of God, and in nothing seek self, and not to have regard to one's own merit. What great thing is it to be cheerful and devout when grace comes to thee ? This is an hour desirable to all."*

This purgation of the sense comes in different ways, such as reverses of fortune, loss of friendship, loss of one's reputation, ill success in one's undertakings, illness, and the whole train of temporal misfortunes. It is a.lways accompanied by the loss of sensible devotion. To keep still under the chastising hand of God elevates the soul to the plane where the holy man Job stood. If we have received good things at the hand of God, why should we not receive evil ? The active purgation through which the soul has passed under the guidance of St. John of the Cross is the best preparation for this passive purgation of sense, for there it has learnt to utterly despise all comfort. Far more terrible, as our author tells us, is the passive purgation of the Spirit which reaches * Imitation, II, ix. '' unto the division of the soul and the spirit, of the joints also and the marrow." Of course there are different degrees, all souls are not tried to the same extent, and St. John takes rather an extreme case. In the most acute form, then, positive Satanic interference adds to the distress of a soul already weighed down by a feeling of the loss of God. Sometimes it takes the shape of a spirit of blasphemy, or of uncleanness or despan\ The lives of the Saints furnish some remarkable instances of such trials. St. Mary Magdalen de Pazzi was subject to them for five years. St. Francis de Sales was, for a long time, haunted by the thought that he should be finally lost. The effect it had upon him was to render him extremely conscientious so that he should offend God not even in small matters, and that his loss should not come through his own fault. '' Although He should kill me I will trust Him ; but yet I will reprove my ways in His sight. '

It stands to reason that a soul under such trials is absolutely dependent upon the guidance of a . learned and experienced director. Otherwise the result might be fatal. In fact there is reason to tjiink that some of the appalhng faUs from spiritual height to utter perversion should be attributed to the absence of proper direction during this most dangerous period. / The purpose of these trials is, however, not to throw the soul into despair but to wean it from all comfort so as to leave it with no other support than God Himself, as St. John says in ^ one of his poems : My soul is detached From every thing created, And raised above itself Into a life delicious, Of God alone supported. And therefore I will say, That what I most esteem Is that my soul is now Without support, and with support.* Or, as it is expressed in some verses attributed On Mount Carmel God alone and I. God alone in mv spirit to enlighten it, God alone in my acts to sanctify them, God alone in my heart to possess it. This is one of the objects of the passive purgation. Sooner or later every soul must pass through

* W^orks (ed. 1891), II, 628. it. All that is of earth earthly will have to be left on one side before that which is of heaven heavenly shall appear. The process is under all circumstances a painful one, but it is unavoidable. St. John assists the soul in stripping itself, and allowing itself to be stripped here below. He calls this a purgatory, but a very different one from what awaits the soul after death, inasmuch as there the soul is cleansed by fire, and here by love. Moreover, the perfect purgation of the soul in the present life leaves it free to act with infinitely greater power, and therefore to gain innumerable merits, whereas after death the account is closed before even the soul enters purgatory. No power on earth could resist a thoroughly detached soul, it might almost be said to participate in God's omnipotence. Here lies the secret of the marvellous deeds of so many Saints. There is one other reason why the soul should pass through the trials of the Dark Night. Its ultimate destiny is union with God. Now the soul is finite, and God is infinite. The disproportion between the two is so enormous (being,

in fact, infinite in itself) that the mere comparison must have a crushing effect upon the finite being. Every soul will have to pass through this experience, the minority already in this life in the Dark Night of contemplation, the vast majority on leaving this life, when they will suddenly find themselves encompassed by the infinite Majesty and Power of the Godhead. When the finite comes into contact with the infinite it realises its utter nothingness ; it is humbled to the ground. The contrast causes it the most intense pain. This thorough humiliation makes it possible for the infinitesimal to be united to the infinite, for, as Christ says, " He who humbleth himself shall be exalted." An important point clearly established by St. John is the length of the trial. This depends, no doubt, on man}^ circumstances, on the thoroughness of the purgation, on the amount of co-operation on the part of the soul, probably also on the kind of imperfections to be removed ; the more subtle these are the more difircult are they to eradicate. But on the whole it is not probable that a soul would remain plunged in deep dark- INTRODUCTION. XVl I .

ness for jnany weeks together, without being comforted and strengthened by at least some passing rays of hght, some consolation to give it courage. Perhaps a very strong soul would require but few interruptions of this kind, but, excepting some highly favoured souls, an alternation of glimpses of light and deep shadows seem to be the more usual experience. On this condition the Dark Night may continue for several years, and may even be repeated in different degrees of intensity. It is necessary to bear this in mind, for the study of Mystical works sometimes leaves the impression that the various experiences follow each other in regular and rapid succession, and that there can be no turning back unless it be a falling away. ^As the soul enters the Dark Night gradually so it emerges from it by degrees. Both in the " Ascent " and in the work before us St. John proceeds so far as the dawn of a new and glorious day. Of the full noonday he treats in the " Spiritual Canticle " and the '* Living Flame of Love." There the will is firmly united with the ^^''ill of God, the only kind of permanent union between

man and God possible in this life. It is the height of perfection and so far above ordinary human experience that Mystical writers, St. John included, have found it necessary to use expressions of oriental exuberance, the ordinary language being quite inadequate to describe the happy condition of a soul arrived at this state. It stands in marked contrast with the almost grim sobriety of the expositions in the '* Ascent " and the '' Dark Night." Those who wish to form an opinion of the character of St. John should study both categories of his writings, otherwise he would appear to some as a stern, morose taskmaster, with never a smile on his lips, and to others as a dreamer of phantastic dreams, whereas he was a Saint with a wide heart and intense love, a most passionate love of his God, and, for God's sake, of his neighbour ; and, with all that, a man of practical work and common sense. It is hardly necessary to say much on the charge of Quietism brought sometimes against St. John of the Cross. The matter was fully investigated at the time of his beatification and canonisation. Had there been the slightest foundation for it

the process would have been allowed to drop ; but as the charge has been repeated by writers who claim to have a right of being listened to, a word in reply may not be superfluous. According t^ St. John^ the soul while plunged into the Dark Night can do nothing, but must leave God free to .act. It is passive, but not inert ; by submitting to the Divine operation it co-operates in the measure of its power. But in all other states, notably in the active purgation of the " Ascent " the soul concentrates the utmost energy of all its powers on the one great work. We have seen there how St. John expects it to leave no recess of the heart or mind unexplored and undisturbed. Considering that it costs us infinitely more to free ourselves from those things for which we have, sometimes unconsciously, an attraction, than from what is alien to our nature, it will be seen that so far from tending to Quietism St. John's teaching exacts an amount of co-operation on the part of man that will probably surprise most readers. If, as it seems reasonable to think, the active purgation goes hand in hand with the passive purgation, and should continue not onl}*

while the latter lasts, but to the end of life, there can be no question of a passive repose of the soul on the plea that God is working in the interior. Moreover, the state of perfection admits of no relaxation from work, besides the good works which will follow necessarily from the union of the human with the Divine Will, the highest contemplation is in itself an unfolding of all the powers of the soul, just as the Beatific vision is not a passive enjoyment but an operation of a soul lifted far above itself by the light of glory in the intellect and a new capacity for love in the will. Fr. benedict ZIMMERMAN. O.C.D. St. Luke's Priory, Wincanton, May 1st, 1907.

Of the imperfections of beginners . . . . . . . . . . 5 Of some spiritual imperfections to which beginners are liable in the matter of pride . . . . . . . . . . . . 7 CHAPTER HI, Of the imperfections of avarice, in the spiritual sense . . . . 13

Of the signs by which it may be known that the spiritual man is walking in the way of this night or purgation of sense . . 34

How they are to conduct themselves who have entered the dark

The dim contemplation is not a night only, but pain and torment also for the soul . . . . . . . . . . . . . , 78

Other trials of the soul in this state . . . . . . . . 95

How this night enlightens the mind, though it brings darkness over it . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . • 100

Explanation of this purgation by a comparison . . . . . . 108

A vehement passion of divine love the fruit of these sharp afflictions of the soul .. .. .. .. .. .. 113

How this awful night is like purgatory. How the divine wisdom illuminates men on earth with that light in which the angels are purihed and enlightened in heaven . . . . . . 118

Of the other degrees. . .. .. .. .. .. .. 158

The meaning of ' disguised.' The colours in which the soul disguises itself in this night .. .. .. .. .. 162

The third line of the second stanza . . . , . . . . . . 169 The wonderful hiding-place of the soul, which the devil cannot enter .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 170

THE WAY OF THE PERFECT UNION OF LOVE WITH 'GOD, SUCH AS IS POSSIBLE IN THIS LIFE; AND THE The stanzas to be explained are set forth at the beginning of this book, then an explanation of each severally, the stanza being placed before it. After that an explanation of each line, which is also set before the explanation. The first two stanzas explain the two spiritual purgations of the sensual and spiritual part of man, and the other six the various and admirable effects of the spiritual enlightenment and union of love with God. In a dark night, With anxious love inflamed, O, happy lot ! Forth unobserved I went, My house being now at rest. II. In darkness and in safety. By the secret ladder, disguised, O, happy lot ! In darkness and concealment, My house being now at rest, III. In that happy night. In secret, seen of none, Seeing nought myself, Without other Ught or guide Save that which in my heart was burning. That light guided me More surely than the noonday sun To the place where He was waiting for me, Whom I knew well, And where none appeared. O, guiding night ; O, night more lovely than the dawn ;

O, night that hast united TheTover with His beloved. And changed her into her love. On my flowery bosom, Kept whole for Him alone. There He reposed and slept ; And I cherished Him, and the waving Of the cedars fanned Him. As His hair floated in the breeze That from the turret blew. He struck me on the neck With His gentle hand, And all sensation left me. I continued in oblivion lost, My head was resting on my love ; Lost to all things and myself, And, amid the hlies forgotten. Threw all my cares away. Before we enter on an explanation of these, it is right 'we should understand that they are the words of the soul already in the state of perfection, which is the union, of love with God, when it has gone through the straits, tribulations and severities, by means of the spiritual training, of the strait way of everlasting life, by which ordinarily the soul attains to this high and divine union with God. Of it our Saviour says in the Gospel,* ' How narrow is the gate and strait is the way that leadeth to life, and few there are that find it.' This road being so strait, and they who find it being so few, the soul regards it as a great and joyful blessing that it has journeyed on it to the perfection of love, as it sings in the first stanza, very rightly calling the strait road, a dark night, as may be seen further on in the words of the stanza. The soul, therefore, rejoicing in that it has travelled on this strait road whereby so great a blessing has come to it, sings as follows.

* S. Matt. vii. 14.

In a dark night, With anxious love inflamed, O, happy lot ! Forth unobserved I went. My house being now at rest. In the first stanza the soul sings of the way and manner of its going forth, as to its affections, from self and all created things, dying thereto by real mortification, that it may live the life of love, sweet and delicious in God. It went forth, from itself and from all things, in a dark night, by which is meant here purgative contemplation — as I shall hereinafter explain* — which leads the soul to deny itself and all besides. This departure, it says, it was able to accomplish in the strength and fervour which the love of the Bridegroom supplied, in the obscure contemplation for that end. The soul magnifies its own happiness in having journeyed Godwards in that night so successfully as to escape all hindrance on the part of its three enemies — the world, the devil, and the flesh — which are always found infesting this road ; for the night of purgative contemplation had lulled to sleep and mortified, in the house of sensuality, all passions and desires, in their rebellious movements.

Begins with the first stanza and treats of the imperfections of beginners. In a dark night. O OULS begin to enter the dark night when God is ^-^ drawing them out of the state of beginners, which is that of those who meditate on the spiritual road, and is leading them into that of proficients, the state of contemplatives, that, having passed through it, they mayarrive at the state of the perfect, which is that of the divine union with God. That we may the better understand and explain the nature of this night through which the soul has to pass, and why God leads men into it, it may be well to touch first upon certain peculiarities of beginners, that they may perceive the weakness of the state they are in, take courage, and desire to be led of God into this night, where the soul is established in virtue and made strong for the inestimable delights of His love. Though I shall dwell at some length upon this point, I shall do so no longer than suffices for the immediate discussion of this dark night. 2. We are to keep in mind that a soul, when seriously converted to the service of God, is, in general, spiritually

nursed and caressed, as an infant by its loving mother, who warms it in her bosom, nourishes it with her own sweet milk, feeds it with tender and delicate food, carries it in her arms, and fondles it. But as the child grows up the mother withholds her caresses, hides her breasts, and anoints them with the juice of bitter aloes; she carries the infant in her arms no longer, but makes it walk on the ground, so that, losing the habits of an infant, it may apply itself to greater and more substantial pursuits. 3. The grace of God,* like a loving mother, as soon as the soul is regenerated in the new fire and fervour of His service, treats it in the same way ; for it enables it, without labour on its own part, to find its spiritual milk, sweet and delicious, in all the things of God, and in devotional exercises great sweetness ; God giving it the breasts of His own tender love, as to a tender babe. Such souls, therefore, delight to spend many hours, and perhaps whole nights, in prayer ; their pleasures are penances, their joy is fasting, and their consolations lie in the use of the sacraments and in speaking of divine things

4. Now spiritual men generally, speaking spiritually, are extremely weak and imperfect here, though they apply themselves to devotion, and practise it with great resolution, earnestness, and care. For being drawn to * Sap. xvi. 25. — In omnia transfigurata omnium nutrici gratiae tua: deserviebat. these things and to their spiritual exercises by the comfort and satisfaction they find therein, and not yet confirmed in virtue by the struggle it demands, they fall into many errors and imperfections in their spiritual life ; for every man's work corresponds to the habit of perfection which he has acquired. These souls, therefore, not having had time to acquire those habits of vigour, must, of necessity, perform their acts, like children, weakly. 5. To make this more clear, and to show how weak are beginners in virtue in those good works which they perform with so much ease and pleasure, I proceed to explain by reference to the seven capital sins, pointing out some of the imperfections into which beginners fall in the matter of each of them. This will show us plainly how like children they are in all they do, and also how great are the blessings of this dark night of which I am about to speak* ; seeing that it cleanses and purifies the soul from all these imperfections.

Of some spiritual imperfections to which beginners are liable in the matter of pride. When beginners become aware of their own fervour and diligence in their spiritual works and devotional * Ch. xii. § 2. exercises, this prosperity of theirs gives rise to secret pride — though holy things tend of their own nature to humility — because of their imperfections ; and the issue is that they conceive a certain satisfaction in the contemplation of their works and of themselves. From the same source, too, proceeds that empty eagerness which they display, in speaking before others of the spiritual life, and sometimes as teachers rather than learners. They condemn others in their heart when they see that they are not devout in their way. Sometimes also they say it in words, showing themselves herein to be like the Pharisee, who in the act of prayer boasted of his own works and despised the Publican.* 2. Their fervour, and desire to do these and other works, is frequently fed by satan in order that they may grow in pride and presumption : he knows perfectly well that all their virtue and works are not only nothing worth, but rather tending to sin. Some of them go so far as to think none good but themselves, and so, at all times, both in word and deed fall into condemnation and detraction of others. They see the mote in the eye of their brother, but not the beam which is in their own.f They strain out the gnat in another man's cup, and swallow the camel in their own.+

3. Sometimes, also, when their spiritual masters, such as confessors and superiors, do not approve of * S. Luke xviii. ii, 12. j S. Matt. vii. 3. t lb. xxiii. 24. their spirit and conduct — for they wish to be praised and considered for what they do — they decide that they are not understood, and that their superiors are not spiritual men because they do not approve and sanction their proceedings. So they go about in quest of some one else, who will accommodate himself to their fancy ; for in general they love to discuss their spiritual state with those who, they think, will commend and respect it. They avoid, as they would death, those who destroy their delusion with the view of leading them into a safe way, and sometimes they even hate them. Presuming greatly on themselves, they make many resolutions, and accomplish little. They are occasionally desirous that others should perceive their spirituality and devotion, and for that end they give outward tokens by movements, sighs and divers ceremonies ; sometimes, too, they fall into certain trances in public rather than in private — whereunto satan contributes — and are pleased when others are witnesses of them.

4. Many of them seek to be the favourites of their confessors, and the result is endless envy and disquietude. They are ashamed to confess their sins plainly, lest their confessors should think less of them, so they go about palliating them, that they may not seem so bad : which is excusing rather than accusing themselves. Sometimes they go to a stranger to confess their sin, that their usual confessor may think they are not sinners, but good people. And so they always take pleasure in telling him of their goodness, and that in terms suggestive of more than is in them : at the least, they wish all their goodness to be appreciated, when it would be greater humility on their part, as I shall presently show,* to undervalue it, and wish that neither their confessor nor anyone else should think it of the least importance. 5. Some beginners, too, make light of their faults, and at other times indulge in immoderate grief when they commit them. They thought themselves already saints, and so they become angry and impatient with themselves, which is another great imperfection. They also importune God to deliver them from their faults and imperfections, but it is for the comfort of living in peace, unmolested by them, and not for God ; they do not consider that, were He to deliver them, they would become, perhaps, prouder than ever. They are great enemies of other men's praise, but great lovers of their own, and sometimes they seek it. In this respect they resemble the foolish virgins, who, when their lamps gave no light, went about in search of oil, saying : ' Give us of your oil, for our lamps are going out.'t

6. From these some go on to very serious imperfections, and come to great harm thereby. Some, however, fall into them less than others, and some * § 7. 7 S. Matt. XXV. 8. have to contend with little more than the first movements of them. But scarcely anyone can be found who, in his first fervours, did not fall into some of them. 7. But those who at this time are going on to perfection proceed in a very different way, and in a very different temper of mind : they grow and are built up in humility, not only looking on their own works as nothing, but also dissatisfied with themselves ; they look upon all others as much better, they regard them with a holy envy in their anxiety to serve God as they do. For the greater their fervour, the more numerous their good works ; and the keener the pleasure therein, the more they perceive — for they humble themselves — how much that is which God deserves at their hands, and how little is all they can do for Him : thus the m'ore they do, they less are they satisfied. 8. So great is that which they in their love would fain do, that all they are doing seems nothing. This loving anxiety so importunes and fills them that they never consider whether others are doing good or not, and if they do, it is, as I have said, in the conviction that all others are much better than they are. They think little of themselves, and wish others to do so also, to make no account of them and despise their works. Moreover, if anyone should praise and respect them they will give them no credit, for they think it strange that anybody should speak well of them.

9. They, in great tranquility and humility, are very desirous to learn the things that are profitable to them from anyone ; in this respect the very opposite of those of whom I have just spoken, who are willing to teach everybody ; and who, when anyone seems about to teach them anything, take the words out of his mouth, as if they knew it already. 10. But they of whom I am now speaking are very far from wishing to instruct anyone ; they are most ready to travel by another road if they be but commanded, for they never imagine that they can be right in anything. When others are praised they rejoice, and their only regret is that they do not serve God themselves as well as they. They have no wish to speak about their own state, for they think so lightly of it, that they are ashamed to speak of it to their own confessors ; it seems to them unworthy of any mention whatever. But they have a great desire to speak of their shortcomings and sins, or of that which they consider not to be virtue : thus they incline to treat of the affairs of their soul with those who have no great opinion of their state and spirit.* This is a characteristic of that spirituality which is pure, simple, true, and most pleasing unto God. For as the wise Spirit of God dwells in these humble souls, He moves and inclines them to keep His treasures secretly within, and to cast

* See Life of St. Teresa, Relation vii. § ii. out the evil. For God gives this grace, together with the other virtues, to the humble, and withholds it from the proud. 11. These will give their hearts' blood for him who serves God, and will help him to serve Him to the utmost of their powers. When they fall into any imperfection they bear up under it with humility, in meekness of spirit, in loving fear of God, and hoping in Him. But the souls who in the beginning travel thus towards perfection are, as I said,* few, yea, very few, and we ought to be content when they do not rush into the opposite evils. This is the reason, as I shall hereafter explain,! why God leads into the dark night those souls whom He will purify from all these imperfections in order to their further progress.

Of the imperfections into which some beginners are wont to fall, in the matter of the second capital sin, which is avarice, in the spiritual sense. Many a beginner also falls at times into great spiritual avarice. Scarcely anyone is contented with that measure of the spirit which God gives ; they are very disconsolate and querulous because they do not find the comfort they desire in spiritual things. IMany are never satisfied with listening to spiritual counsels and precepts, with reading * § 6. t Ch. viii. § 5. books which treat of their state ; and they spend more time in this than in doing their duty, having no regard to that mortification, and perfection of interior poverty of spirit to which they ought to apply themselves. Besides, they load themselves with images, rosaries, and crucifixes, curious and costly ; now taking up one, then another, now changing them, and then resuming them again. At one time they will have them of a certain fashion, at another time of another, prizing one more than another because more curious or costly. Some may be seen with an Agnus Dei, and with relics and medals, like children with coral, 2. I condemn here that attachment and clinging ot the heart to the form, number, and variety of these things, because in direct opposition to poverty of spirit, which looks only to the substance of devotion ; which makes use indeed of these things, but only sufiiciently for the end, and disdains that variety and curiosity, for real devotion must spring out of the heart, and consider only the truth and substance which the objects in question represent. All beyond this is attachment and greed of imperfection ; he who will go on unto perfection, must root out that feeling utterly.

3. I knew a person who for more than ten years used continually, without interruption, a cross rudely formed of a piece of blessed palm, and fastened together with a common pin bent backwards, until I took it away. This was a person not deficient in sense and understanding". I knew another who had a rosary made of the backbones of fish, and whose devotion, I am certain, was not on that account of less value in the eyes of God ; for it is clear that the cost or workmanship of these contributed nothing to it. 4. Those beginners, therefore, who go on well, do not rely on visible instruments, neither do they burden themselves with them, nor do they seek to know more than is necessary for acting rightly ; their sole object is to be well with God and to please Him ; their avarice consists in that. With a noble generosity they give up all they possess ; and their delight is to be poor for the love of God and their neighbour, disposing of everything according to the laws of this virtue ; because, as I have said, their sole aim is real perfection, to please God in all things and themselves in nothing.

5. The soul, however, cannot be perfectly purified from these imperfections, any more than from the others, until God shall have led it into the passive purgation of the dark night, of which I shall speak immediately But it is expedient that the soul, so far as it can, should labour, on its own part, to purify and perfect itself, that it may merit from God to be taken under His divine care, and be healed from those imperfections which of itself it cannot remedy. For, after all the eftbrts of the * Ch. viii. § 5. soul, it cannot by any exertions of its own actively purify itself so as to be in the slightest degree fit for the divine union of perfection in the love of God, if God Himself does not take it into His own hands and purify it in the fire, dark to the soul, in the way I am going- to explain.!

Of other imperfections into which some beginners are wont to fall, in the matter of the third sin, which is luxury, Many beginners fall into other imperfections, over and above those belonging to each capital sin of which I am speaking. I pass them by now, to avoid prolixity, and treat of some of the chiefest, which are, as it were, the source and origin of the rest. 2. As to the sin of luxury, putting aside the commission of the sin — my object being to speak of those imperfections which have to be purged away in the dark night — beginners fall into many imperfections, which may be called spiritual luxury ; not that it is so in fact, but bec^luse it is felt and experienced sometimes in the flesh, because of its frailty, when the soul is the recipient of spiritual communications. For very often, in the f Bk. ii. ch. lo. midst of their spiritual exercises, and when they cannot help themselves, the impure movements of sensuality are felt ; and sometimes even when the mind is absorbed in prayer, or when they are receiving the sacraments of penance and the eucharist. These movements not being in their power, proceed from one of three sources.

3. They proceed occasionally — though but rarely, and in persons of delicate constitutions — from sensible sweetness in spiritual things. For when sense and spirit are both delighted together, the whole nature of man is moved in that delectation according to its measure and character. For then the spirit, that is, the higher part of our nature is moved to delight itself in God ; and sensuality, which is the lower part, is moved towards sensible gratification, because it knows, and admits of, none other. And so it happens that the soul is in spirit praying, and on the other hand in the senses troubled, to its great disgust, with the rebellious movements of the flesh passively. But inasmuch as these two parts form but one subject, man, they ordinarily share in their respective passions, each in its own way ; for, as the philosopher tells us, all that is received is received according to the condition of the recipient. 4, Thus in these beginnings, and even when the soul has made some progress, the sensual part, being still imperfect, when spiritual delight flows into the soul, mingles occasionally of its own therewith. But when the sensual part is already renewed in the purgation of the dark night, it is no longer subject to these infirmities, , because it receives so abundantly of the Spirit of God, that it seems rather to be received into that Spirit itself, I as into that which is greater and grander. Thus itT possesses everything according to the measure of the Spirit, in an admirable manner, of Whom it is a partaker^ united with God.

5. The second source of these rebellious movements is satan, who, in order to disquiet the soul during prayer, or when preparing for it, causes these filthy movements of our lower nature, and these, when in any degree admitted, are injury enough. Some persons not only relax in their prayers through fear of these movements, which is the object of satan when he undertakes to assail them, but even abandon them altogether, for they imagine that they are more liable to these assaults during prayer than at other times. This is certainly true ; for the devil then assails them more than at other times, that they may cease from prayer. 6. This is not all ; for he represents before them then, most vividly, the most foul and filthy images, and occasionally in close relation with certain spiritual things and persons, by whom their souls are profited, that he may terrify and crush them. Some are so grievously assailed that they dare not dwell upon anything, for it becomes at once a stumbling-block to them, especially those who are of a melancholy temperament ; these are so vehemently and eifectually assailed as to be objects of the deepest pity. When melancholy is the occasion of these visitations of satan, men in general cannot be delivered from them till their bodily health is improved, unless they shall have entered on the dark night which purifies them wholly.

7. The third source of these depraved movements which war against the soul is usually the fear of them, for this fear which is brought about by a sudden remembrance of them, in a look, a word, or thought, makes souls suffer from them, but without fault on their part. 8. Sometimes, spiritual persons, when either speaking of spiritual things, or doing good works, display a certain energy and strength arising out of their consideration for persons present, and that with a certain measure of vain joy. This also proceeds from spiritual luxury in the sense in which I use the word, and is accompanied . at times by a certain complacency of the will. 9. Some, too, form spiritual friendships with others, the source of which is luxury, and not spirituality. We may know it to be so by observing whether the remembrance of that affection increases our recollection and love of God, or brings remorse of conscience. When this affection is purely spiritual, the love of God grows with it, and the more we think of it the more we think of God, and the greater our longing for Him ; for the one grows with the other. The spirit of God has this property, that it increases good by good, because there is a likeness and conformity between them. But when this affection springs out of the vice of sensuality, its effects are quite opposite ; for the more it grows, the more is the love of God diminished, and the remembrance of Him also ; for if this earthly love grows, that of God cools down ; the remembrance of that love brings forgetfulness of God and a certain remorse of conscience.

10. On the other hand, if the love of God grows in the soul, the human love cools, and is forgotten ; for as they are contrary the one to the other, not only do they not help each other, but the one which predominates suppresses the other, and strengthens itself, as philosophers say. And so our Saviour tells us in the gospel, saying, ' that which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the spirit is spirit:'* that love which grows out of sensuality ends in the same, and that which is spiritual ends in the spirit of God, and makes it grow. This is the difference between these two loves, whereby we may know them. When the soul enters the dark night, these affections are ruled by reason ; that night strengthens and purifies the affection which is according to God, and removes, destroys, or mortifies the other. In the beginning both are by it put out of sight, as I shall explain hereafter. t * S. John iii. 6. f Ch. xiii. ii. CHAP, v.] OF THE SOUL. 21

Of the imperfections of beginners in the matter of anger. Many beginners, because of their inordinate appetite for spiritual sweetness, generally fall into many imperfections in the matter of anger ; for when spiritual things minister to them no more sweetness and delight, they naturally become peevish, and in that bitterness of spirit prove a burden to themselves in all they do : trifles make them angry, and they are at times intolerable to all about them. This happens generally after great sweetness in prayer ; and so, when that sensible sweetness is past, their natural temper is soured and rendered morose. They are like a babe weaned from the breast, which he found so sweet. When this natural feeling of displeasure is not permitted to grow, there is no sin, but only imperfection, which will have to be purged away in the severity and aridities of the dark night. 2. There are other spiritual persons, too, among these who fall into another kind of spiritual anger. They are angry with other people for their faults, with a sore of unquiet zeal, and watch them ; they are occasionally moved to blame them, and even do so in anger, constituting themselves guardians of virtue. All this is contrary to spiritual meekness.

3. Others, again, seeing their own imperfections, become angry with themselves with an impatience that is not humble. They are so impatient with their shortcomings as if they would be saints in one day. Many of these make many and grand resolutions, but, being self-confident and not humble, the more they resolve, the more they fall, and the more angry they become ; not having the patience to wait for God's time ; this is also opposed to spiritual meekness. There is no perfect remedy for this but in the dark night. There are, however, some people who are so patient, and who advance so slowly in their spiritual progress, that God wishes they were not so patient.

Of the imperfections in the matter of spiritual gluttony. There is much to say of the fourth capital sin, which is spiritual gluttony, for there is scarcely one among beginners, however good his progress, who, in the matter of this sin, does not fall into some of the many imperfections to which beginners are liable, because of that sweetness which in the beginning they find in spiritual exercises. 2. Many beginners, delighting in the sweetness and joy of their spiritual occupations, strive after spiritual sweetness rather than after pure and true devotion, which is that which God regards and accepts in the whole course of the spiritual way. For this reason, over and above their imperfection in seeking after sweetness in devotion, that spirit of gluttony, which has taken possession of them, forces them to overstep the limits of moderation, within which virtue is acquired and consists. For allured by the delights they then experience, some of them kill themselves by penances, and others weaken themselves by fasting. They take upon themselves more than they can bear, without rule or advice ; they try to conceal their austerities from those whom they are bound to obey, and some even venture to practise them though commanded to abstain. These are full of imperfections — unreasonable people, who undervalue submission and obedience, which is the penance of the reason and judgment, and therefore a more acceptable and sweet sacrifice unto God than all the acts of bodily penance. Bodily penance is full of imperfections when the penance of the will is neglected, for men undertake it merely because they like it, and for the sweetness which they find in it.

3. Inasmuch then as all extremes are vicious, and as in this course of conduct men follow their own will, the consequences are that they grow in vice and not in virtue ; at least they minister to their spiritual gluttony and pride, for they do not walk in the way of obedience. The devil so deceives many of them by exciting their gluttony through this sweetness which he increases, that, since they cannot obey, they either change, or vary, or add to, what is commanded them ; so hard and bitter is obedience become. The evil has so grown upon some, that they lose all desire to do their spiritual duties the instant obedience enjoins them ; because all their satisfaction consists in doing that which pleases them, and perhaps it would be better for them to leave it undone. 4. Many of these importune their spiritual directors to allow them to do their own wnll : they extort that permission as if by force, and if it be refused, they mope like children, and become discontented, and think they are not serving God whenever they are thwarted. These persons clinging to sweetness and their own will, the moment they are contradicted, and directed according to the will of God, become fretful, fainthearted, and then fall away. They imagine that to please and satisfy themselves, is to serve and please God.

5. Others also there are, who, by reason of this spiritual gluttony, are so ignorant of their own meanness and misery, and so insensible to that loving fear and reverence due to the majesty of God, that they are not afraid to insist on being allowed by their confessors to confess and communicate frequently. And what is much worse, they very often dare to communicate without the leave and sanction of the minister and Steward of Christ, purely out of their own head, and hide the truth from him. This eagerness for communion makes them confess carelessly, for they are more anxious to communicate anyhow than to communicate in pureness and perfection. It would be more profitable for them, and a holier course, to beg their confessors not to enjoin such frequent communions ; though the better way between these two extremes is to be humble and resigned. This excessive boldness leads to great evil, and men may well be in fear of chastisement for such rashness. 6. These persons, when they communicate, strive with all their might for sensible sweetness, instead of worshipping in humility and praising God within themselves. So much are they given to this, that they think when they derive no sensible sweetness, they have done nothing, so meanly do they think of God ; neither do they understand that the least of the blessings of the Most Holy Sacrament is that which touches the senses, and that the invisible grace It confers is far greater ; for God frequently withholds these sensible favours from men, that they may fix the eyes of faith upon Himself. But these persons will feel and taste God, as if He were palpable and accessible to them, not only in communion but in all their other acts of devotion. All this is a very great imperfection, and directly at variance with the nature of God, Who demands the purest faith.

7- They conduct themselves in the same way when they are praying ; for they imagine that the whole business of prayer consists in sensible devotion, and this they strive to obtain with all their might, wearying out their brains and perplexing all the faculties of their souls. When they miss that sensible devotion, they are cast down, thinking they have done nothing. This effort after sweetness destroys true devotion and spirituality, which consist in perseverance in prayer with patience and humility, mistrusting self, solely to please God. Therefore, when they once miss sweetness in prayer, or in any other act of religion, they feel a sort of repugnance to resume it, and sometimes cease from it altogether. 8. In this they are, as we said just now, like children who are not influenced by reason, but by their inclinations. They waste their time in the search after spiritual consolation, and are never satisfied with reading good books, taking up one meditation after another, in the pursuit of sensible sweetness in the things of God. God refuses it to them most justly, wisely, and lovingly, for if He did not, this spiritual gluttony on their part would grow into great evils. For this reason, it is most necessary that they should enter into the dark night, that they may be cleansed from this childishness.

g. They who are bent on sensible sweetness, labour also under another very great imperfection : excessive weakness and remissness on the rugged road of the cross ; for the soul that is given to sweetness naturally sets its face against all the pain of self-denial. They labour under many other imperfections, which have their origin here, of which our Lord will heal them in due time, through temptations, aridities and trials, elements of the dark night. I will not enlarge upon them here, that I may avoid prolixity ; but this will I say, that spiritual soberness and temperance produce a far different temper, that of mortification, of fear and submission in all things ; showing us that the perfection and value of things consist not in the multitude thereof, but in our knowing how to deny ourselves in them. Spiritual men must labour after this with all their might, until it shall please God to purify them by leading them into the dark night. I hasten on with the description of these imperfections, that I may enter on the explanation of it.

Of the imperfections in the matter of envy and spiritual sloth. Beginners are not free from many imperfections, in the matter of the two other vices, envy and spiritual sloth. Many of them are often vexed because of other men's goodness. They are sensibly afflicted when others outstrip them on the spiritual road, and will not endure to hear them praised. They become fretful over other men's virtues, and are sometimes unable to refrain from contradiction when they are commended ; they depreciate them as much as they can, and feel acutely because they themselves are not thought so well of, for they wish to be preferred above all others. This is most opposed to that charity of which S. Paul says, it 'rejoiceth with the truth.'* If charity admits of envy at all, it is a holy envy that makes us grieve that we have not the virtues that others have ; but still rejoicing that they have them, and glad that others outstrip us in the race that they may serve God, we being so full of imperfection ourselves. 2. As to spiritual sloth, beginners are wont to find their most spiritual occupations irksome, and avoid them as repugnant to their taste, for being so given to sweetness in spiritual things, they loathe them when they find none. If they miss once this sweetness in prayer which is their joy — it is expedient that God should deprive them of it in order to try them — they will not resume it ; at other times they omit it, or return to it with a bad grace. Thus, under the influence of sloth they neglect the way of perfection — which is the denial of their will and pleasure for God — for the gratification of their own will, which they serve rather than the will of God.

3. Many of these will have it that God should will that which they will, and are afflicted when they must * I Cor. xiii. 6. will that which He wills, reluctantly submitting their own to the divine will. The result is that they frequently imagine that what is not according to their will is also not according to the will of God ; and, on the other hand, when they are pleased, they believe that God is pleased. They measure Him by themselves, and not themselves by Him, in direct contradiction to His teaching in the gospel ; ' He that shall lose his life for My sake, shall find it.'* That is, he who shall give up his will for God shall have it, and he who will have it, he shall have it never. 4. They also find it wearisome to obey when they are commanded to do that which they like not ; and because they walk in the way of consolation and spiritual sweetness, they are too weak for the rough trials of perfection. They are like persons delicately nurtured who avoid with heavy hearts all that is hard and rugged, and are offended at the Cross wherein the joys of the spirit consist. The more spiritual the work they have to do, the more irksome do they feel it to be. And because they insist on having their own way and will in spiritual things, they enter on the ' strait way that leadeth unto life,'t of which Christ speaks, with repugnance and heaviness of heart.

5. Let this reference to these imperfections among the many under which they labour, who are in the first * S. Matt. xvi. 25. t S. Matt. vii. 14. state of beginners, suffice to show them how necessaryit is for them that God should bring them to the state of proficients, which He effects when He leads them into the dark night of which we shall now speak. In that night He weans them from the breasts of sweetness, in pure aridities and interior darkness, cleanses them from all these imperfections and childish ways, and by ways most different, makes them grow in virtue. For after all the exertions of beginners to mortify themselves in their actions and passions, their success will not be perfect, or even great, until God Himself shall do it for them in the purgation of the dark night. May God be pleased to give me His light, that I may speak profitably of this ; for I have great need of it while treating of a night so dark and a subject so difficult. E)xplanation of the first line of the first stanza. ' Beginning of the explanation of the dark night.' * In a dark night.' This night — it is contemplation — produces in spiritual men two sorts of darkness or purgations comformable to the two divisions of man's nature into sensual and spiritual. Thus the first night, or sensual purgation, wherein the soul is purified or detached, will be of the senses, subjecting them to the spirit. The other is that night or spiritual purgation

wherein the soul is purified and detached in the spirit, and which subdues and disposes it for union with God in love. The night of sense is common, and the lot of many : these are the beginners, of whom I shall first speak. The spiritual night is the portion of very few ; and they are those who have made some progress, 'exercised therein, of whom I shall speak hereafter.* 2. The first night, or purgation, is bitter and terrible to sense. The second is not to be compared with it, for it is much more awful to the spirit, as I shall soon show.t But as the night of sense is the first in order and the first to be entered, I shall speak of it briefly — for being of ordinary occurrence, it is the matter of many treatises — that I may pass on to treat more at large of the spiritual night ; for of that very little has been said, either by word of mouth or in writing, and little is known of it even by experience. 3. But the behaviour of these beginners on the way of God is not noble, and very much according to their own liking and self-love, as I have said before.^ Meanwhile, God seeks to raise them higher, to draw them out of this miserable manner of loving to a higher state of the love of God, to deliver them from the low usage of the senses and meditation whereby they seek after God, as I said before,§ in ways so miserable and so unworthy of Him. He seeks to place them in the way of the spirit

* Bk. ii. ch. i. f Bk. ii. ch. v. + Ch. i. § Ch. vi. § 7. wherein they may the more abundantly, and more free from imperfections, commune with God now that they have been for some time tried in the way of goodness, persevering in meditation and prayer, and because of the sweetness they found therein have withdrawn their affections from the things of this world, and gained a certain spiritual strength in God, whereby they in some measure curb their love of the creature, and are able for the love of God, to carry a slight burden of dryness, without going back to that more pleasant time when their spiritual exercises abounded in delights, and when the sun of the divine graces shone as they think, more clearly upon them. God is now changing that light into darkness, and sealing up the door of the fountain of the sweet spiritual waters, which they tasted in God as often and as long as they wished. For when they were weak and tender, this door was then not shut, as it is written, ' Behold, I have given before thee an opened door, which no man can shut ; because thou hast a little strength, and hast kept My word, and hast not denied My name.'*

4. God thus leaves them in darkness so great that they know not whither to betake themselves with their imaginations and reflections of sense. They cannot advance a single step in meditation, as before, the inward sense now being overwhelmed in this night, and * Apoc. iii. 8. abandoned to dryness so great that they have no more any joy or sweetness in their spiritual exercises, as they had before ; and in their place they find nothing but insipidity and bitterness. For, as I said before,* God now, looking upon them as somewhat grown in grace, weans them from the breasts that they may become 'strong, and cast their swaddling-clothes aside : He carries them in His arms no longer, and shows them how to walk alone. All this is strange to them, for all things seem to go against them. 5. Recollected persons enter the dark night sooner than others, after they have begun their spiritual course ; because they are kept at a greater distance from the occasions of falling away, and because they correct more quickly their worldly desires, which is necessary in order to begin to enter the blessed night of sense. In general, there elapses no great length of time after they have begun before they enter the night of sense, and most of them do enter it, for they generally suffer aridities. The Holy Scriptures throughout, but especially the Psalms and the prophetical books, furnish many illustrations of the night of sense, for it is so common ; but, to avoid prolixity, I omit them for the present, though I shall make use of some of them later on.

* Ch. i. ^

Of the signs by which it may be known that the spiritual man is walking in the way of this night or purgation But as these aridities frequently proceed, not from this night and purgation of the sensitive appetite, but from sins or imperfections, from weakness or lukewarmness, from some physical derangement or bodily indisposition, I shall here propose certain tests by which we may ascertain whether a particular aridity proceeds from the purgation of sense, or from any one of the vices I have just enumerated. There are three chief tests for this 2. The first is this : when we find no comfort in the things of God, and none also in created things. For when God brings the soul into the dark night in order to wean it from sweetness and to purge the desire of sense, He does not allow it to find sweetness or comfort anywhere. It is then probable, in such a case, that this dryness is not the result of sins or of imperfections recently committed ; for if it were, we should feel some inclination or desire for other things than those of God. Whenever we give the reins to our desires in the way of

any imperfection, our desires are instantly attracted to it, much or little, in proportion to the affection for it. But still, inasmuch as this absence of pleasure in the things of heaven and of earth may proceed from bodily indisposition or a melancholy temperament, which frequently cause dissatisfaction with all things, the second test and condition become necessary. 3. The second test and condition of this purgation are that the memory dwells ordinarily upon God with a painful anxiety and carefulness, the soul thinks it is not serving God, but going backwards, because it is no longer conscious of any sweetness in the things of God. In that case it is clear that this weariness of spirit and aridity are not the results of weakness and lukewarmness ; for the peculiarity of lukewarmness is the want of earnestness in, and of interior solicitude for, the things of God. 4. There is, therefore, a great difference between dryness and lukewarmness, for the latter consists in great remissness and weakness of will and spirit, in the want of all solicitude about serving God. The true purgative aridity is accompanied in general by a painful anxiety, because the soul thinks that it is not serving God. Though this be occasionally increased by melancholy or other infirmity — so it sometimes happens — yet it is not for that reason without its purgative effects on the desires, because the soul is deprived of all sweetness, and its sole anxieties are referred to God. For when mere bodily indisposition is the cause, all that it does is to produce disgust and the ruin of bodily health, without the desire of serving God

which belongs to the purgative aridity. In this aridity, though the sensual part of man be greatly depressed, weak and sluggish in good works, by reason of the little satisfaction they furnish, the spirit is, nevertheless, ready and strong. 5. The cause of this dryness is that God is transferring to the spirit the goods and energies of the senses, which, having no natural fitness for them, become dry, parched up, and empty ; for the sensual nature of man is helpless in those things which belong to the spirit simply. Thus the spirit having been tasted, the flesh becomes weak and remiss ; but the spirit, having received its proper nourishment, becomes strong, more vigilant and careful than before, lest there should be any negligence in serving God. At first it is not conscious of any spiritual sweetness and delight, but rather of aridities and distaste, because of the novelty of the change. The palate accustomed to sensible sweetness looks for it still. And because the spiritual palate is not prepared and purified for so delicious a taste until it shall have been for some time disposed for it in this arid and dark night, it cannot taste of the spiritual good, but rather of aridity and distaste, because it misses that which it enjoyed so easily before.

6. These, whom God begins to lead through the solitudes of the wilderness, are like the children of Israel, who, though God began to feed them, as soon as they were in the wilderness, with the manna of heaven, which was so sweet that as it is written, it turned to what every man liked,* were more sensible to the loss of the onions and flesh of Egypt — for they liked them and had revelled in them — than to the delicious sweetness of the angelical food. So they wept and bewailed the flesh-pots of Egypt, saying, ' We remember the fish that we ate in Egypt free-cost ; the cucumbers come into our mind, and the melons, and the leeks, and the onions, and the garlic' t Our appetite becomes so depraved that we long for miserable trifles, and loathe the priceless gifts of heaven, 7. But when these aridities arise in the purgative way of the sensual appetite, the spirit though at first without any sweetness, for the reasons I have given, is conscious of strength and energy to act because of the substantial nature of its interior food, which is the commencement of contemplation, dim and dry to the senses. This contemplation is in general secret, and unknown to him who is admitted into it, and with the aridity and emptiness which it produces in the senses, it makes the soul long for solitude and quiet, without the power of reflecting on anything distinctly, or even desiring to do so.

8. Now, if they who are in this state knew how to be quiet, to disregard every interior and exterior work, — * Exod. xvi. 15, Wisd. xvi. 21. f Numb. xi. 5. for the accomplishment of which they labour, — to be without solicitude about everything, and resign themselves into the hands of God, with a loving interior obedience to His voice, they would have, in this tranquillity, a most delicious sense of this interior food. This food is so delicate that, in general, it eludes our perceptions if we make any special effort to feel it, for, as I am saying, it does its work when the soul is most tranquil and free ; it is like the air which vanishes when we shut our hands to grasp it. 9. The words of the bridegroom which, addressed to the bride, in the Canticles, are applicable to this matter : * Turn away thine eyes from me, for they have made me flee away.'* For this is God's way of bringing the soul into this state ; the road by which He leads it is so different from the first, that if it will do anything in its own strength, it will hinder rather than aid His work. It was far otherwise once.

10. The reason is this : God is now working in the soul, in the state of contemplation, that is, when it advances from meditation to the state of proficients, in such a way as to seem to have bound up all the interior faculties, leaving no help in the understanding, no sweetness in the will, no reflections in the memory. Therefore, at this time, all that the soul can do of itself ends, as I have said, in disturbing the peace and the * Cant. vi. 4. work of God in the spirit amid the dryness of sense. This peace, being spiritual and delicate, effects a work that is quiet and delicate, pacific and utterly alien from the former delights, which were most gross and sensual. This is that peace, according to the Psalmist, which God speaks in the soul to make it spiritual. * He will 'speak peace upon His people.'* This brings us to the third test. 11. The third sign we have for ascertaining whether this dryness be the purgation of sense, is inability to meditate and make reflections, and to excite the imagination, as before, notwithstanding all the efforts we may make ; for God begins now to communicate Himself, no longer through the channel of sense, as formerly, in consecutive reflections, by which we arranged and divided our knowledge, but in pure spirit, which admits not of successive reflections, and in the act of pure contemplation, to which neither the interior nor the exterior senses of our lower nature can ascend. Hence it is that the fancy and the imagination cannot help or suggest any reflections, nor use them ever afterwards.

12. It is understood here that this embarrassment and dissatisfaction of the senses do not arise out of any bodily ailment. When they arise from this, the indisposition, which is always changeable, having * Ps. Ixxxiv. 9. ceased, the powers of the soul recover their former energies, and find their previous satisfactions at once. It is otherwise in the purgation of the appetite, for as soon as we enter upon this, the inability to make our meditations continually grows. It is true that this purgation at first, is not continuous in some persons, for they are not altogether without sensible sweetness and comfort —their weakness renders their rapid weaning inexpedient — nevertheless, it grows upon them more and more, and the operations of sense diminish ; if they are going on to perfection. They, however, who are not walking in the way of contemplation, meet v/ith a very different treatment, for the night of aridities is not continuous with them, they are sometimes in it, and sometimes not ; they are at one time unable to meditate, and at another able as before. 13. God leads these persons into this night only to try them and to humble them, and to correct their desires, that they may not grow up spiritual gluttons, and not for the purpose of leading them into the way of the spirit, which is contemplation. God does not raise to perfect contemplation everyone that is tried in the way of the spirit, and He alone knoweth why. Hence it is that these persons are never wholly weaned from the breasts of meditations and reflections, but only, as I have said, at intervals and at certain seasons.

How they are to conduct themselves who have entered the During the aridities, then, of the night of sense — when God effects the change of which I have spoken,* drawing the soul out of the way of sense into that of the spirit, from meditation to contemplation, where it is helpless in the things of God, so far as its own powers are concerned, as I have said.f — spiritual persons have to endure great afflictions, not so much because of aridity, but because they are afraid that they will be lost on this road ; thinking that they are spiritually ruined, and that God has forsaken them, because they find no help or consolation in holy things. Under these circumstances, they weary themselves, and strive, as they were wont, to fix the powers of the soul with some satisfaction upon some matter of meditation, imagining when they cannot do this, and are conscious of the effort, that they are doing nothing. This they do not without great dislike and inward unwillingness on the part of the soul, which enjoys its state of quietness and rest. 2. In thus turning away from this state they make no progress in the other, because, by exerting their own spirit, they lose that spirit which they had, that of tranquillity and peace. They are like a man who does his work over again ; or who goes out of a city that he

* Ch. ix., § 5. t Ch. viii., § 4. may enter it once more ; or who lets go what he has caught in hunting that he may hunt it again. Their labour is in vain ; for they will find nothing, and that because they are turning back to their former ways, as I have said already.* 3. Under these circumstances, if they meet with no one who understands the matter, these persons fall away, and abandon the right road ; or become weak, or at least put hindrances in the way of their further advancement, because of the great efforts they make to proceed in their former way of meditation, fatiguing their natural powers beyond measure. They think that their state is the result of negligence or of sin. All their own efforts are now in vain, because God is leading them by another and a very different road, that of contemplation. Their first road was that of discursive reflection, but the second knows no imagination or reasoning. 4. It behoves those who find themselves in this condition to take courage, and persevere in patience. Let them not afflict themselves, but put their confidence in God, who never forsakes those who seek Him with a pure and upright heart. Neither will He withhold from them all that is necessary for them on this road until He brings them to the clear and pure light of love, which He will show them in that other dark night of the spirit, if they shall merit an entrance into it.

* Ascent of Mount Carmel, bk. ii., ch. xii. § 10. 5. The conduct to be observed in the night of sense is this : in nowise have recourse to meditations, for, as I have said, the time is now past, let the soul be quiet and at rest, though they may think they are doing nothing, that they are losing time, and that their lukewarmness is the reason of their unwillingness to employ their thoughts. They will do enough if they keep patience, and persevere in prayer; all they have to do is to keep their soul free, unembarrassed, and at rest from all thoughts and all knowledge, not anxious about their meditation, contenting themselves simply with directing their attention lovingly and calmly towards God ; and all this without anxiety or effort, or immoderate desire to feel and taste His presence. For all such efforts disquiet the soul, and distract it from the calm repose and sweet tranquillity of contemplation to which they are now admitted. 6. And though they may have many scruples that they are wasting time, and that it may be better for them to betake themselves to some other good work, seeing that in prayer and meditation they are become helpless ; yet let them be patient with themselves, and remain quiet, for that which they are uneasy about is their own satisfaction and liberty of spirit. If they were now to exert their interior faculties, they would simply hinder and ruin the good which, in that repose, God is working in the soul ; for if a man while sitting for his

portrait cannot be still, but moves about, the painter will never depict his face, and even the work already done will be spoiled. 7. In the same way when the soul interiorly rests, every action and passion, or anxious consideration at that time, will distract and disturb it, and make it feel the dryness and emptiness of sense. The more it strives to find help in affections and knowledge, the more will it feel the deficiency which cannot now be supplied in that way. It is therefore expedient for the soul which is in this condition not to be troubled because its faculties have become useless, yea, rather it should desire that they may become so quickly ; for by not hindering the operation of infused contemplation, to which God is now admitting it, the soul is refreshed in peaceful abundance, and set on fire with the spirit of love, which this contemplation, dim and secret, induces and establishes within it. 8. Still, I do not mean to lay down a general rule for the cessation from meditation ; that should occur when meditation is no longer feasible, and only then, when our Lord, either in the way of purgation and affliction, or of the most perfect contemplation, shall make it impossible. At other times, and on other occasions, this help must be had recourse to, namely, meditation on the life and passion of Christ, which is the best means of purification and of patience and of security on the road.

and an admirable aid to the highest contemplation. Contemplation is nothing else but a secret, peaceful, and loving infusion of God, which, if admitted, will set the soul on fire with the spirit of love, as I shall show in the explanation of the following verse.

JVith anxious love inflamed. The burning fire of love, in general, is not felt at first, for it has not begun to burn, either because of our natural impurity, or because the soul, not understanding its own state, has not given it, as I have said,* a peaceful rest within. Sometimes, however, whether it be so or not, a certain longing after God begins to be felt ; and the more it grows, the more the soul feels itself touched and inflamed with the love of God, without knowing or understanding how or whence that love comes, except that at times this burning so inflames it that it longs earnestly after God. David in this night said of himself, ' My heart is inflamed, and my reins are changed, and I am brought to nothing, and knew not.'t That is, * my heart hath been inflamed' in the love of contemplation ; ' my reins,' that is, my tastes and affections also, have been changed from the sensual to * Ascent of Mount Carmel, bk. ii., ch. 13, § 4. ■j- Ps. Ixxii. 21, 22. the spiritual way by this holy dryness, and in my denial of them, and ' I am brought to nothing, and I knew not.' The soul, as I have just said, not knowing the way it goeth, sees itself brought to nothing as to all things of heaven and earth, wherein it delighted before, and on fire with love, not knowing how.

2. And because occasionally this fire of love grows in the spirit greatly, the longings of the soul for God are so deep that the very bones seem to dry up in that thirst, the bodily health to wither, the natural warmth and energies to perish in the intensity of that thirst of love. The soul feels it to be a living thirst. So was it with David when he said, * My soul hath thirsted after God, the strong, living.'* It is as if he had said, the thirst of my soul is a living thirst. We may say of this thirst, that being a living thirst, it kills. Though this thirst is not continuously, but only occasionally, violent, nevertheless it is always felt in some degree. 3. I commenced by observing that this love, in general, is not felt at first, but only the dryness and emptiness of which I am speaking ; and then, instead of love, which is afterwards enkindled, what the soul feels in the dryness and the emptiness of its faculties is a general painful anxiety about God, and a certain painful misgiving that it is not serving Him. But a soul anxious and afflicted for His sake, is a sacrifice not a little

* Ps. xli. ^. pleasing unto God. Secret contemplation keeps the soul in this state of anxiety, until, in the course ot time, having purged the sensual nature of man, in some degree, of its natural forces and affections by means of the aridities it occasions, it shall have kindled within it this divine love. But in the meantime, like a sick man in the hands of his physician, all it has to do, in the dark night and dry purgation of the desire, is to suffer, healing its many imperfections and practising many virtues, that it may become meet for the divine love, of which I shall speak while explaining the following line : O happy lot [ 4. When God establishes the soul in the dark night of sense, that He may purify, prepare, and subdue its lower nature, and unite it to the spirit, by depriving it of light, and causing it to cease from meditation — as He afterwards establishes it also in the spiritual night, that He may purify the spirit, and prepare it for union with Himself — the soul makes a gain so great, though it does not think so, that it looks upon it as great happiness to have escaped from the bondage of the senses of its lower nature in that happy night, and therefore it sings — ' O happy lot ! '

5. It is necessary now for us to point out the benefits which accrue to the soul in this night, and for the sake of which it pronounces itself happy in having passed through it. All these benefits are comprised in these words : Forth unobserved I went. 6. This going forth of the soul is to be understood of that subjection to sense under which it laboured when it was seeking after God in weak, narrow, and fitful ways, for such are the ways of man's lower nature. It then fell at every step into a thousand imperfections and ignorances, as I showed while speaking of the seven capital sins, from all of which the spiritual man is delivered in the dark night which quenches all desire in all things whatsoever, and deprives him of all his lights in meditation, and brings with it other innumerable blessings in the acquirement of virtue, as I shall now show. 7. It will be a great joy and comfort to him who travels on this road, to observe how that which seemed so rugged and harsh, so contrary to spiritual sweetness, works in him so great a good. This good flows from going forth, as I am saying, as to all affections and operations of the soul, from all created things, in this night, and journeying towards those which are eternal, which is a great happiness and a great good. In the first place, because the desires are extinguished in all things ; and in the second place, because they are few who persevere and enter in through the narrow gate, by

the strait way that leadeth to life : ' How narrow is the gate and strait is the way that leadeth to life, and few there are that find it ! '* are words of our Lord. 8. The narrow gate is this night of sense. The soul detaches itself from sense that it may enter on it, directing itself by faith, which is a stranger to all sense, that it may afterwards travel along the strait road of the other night of the spirit, by which it advances towards God in most pure faith, which is the means of union with Him. This road, because so strait, dark, and terrible — for there is no comparison, as I shall show,t between its trials and darkness and those of the night of sense — is travelled by very few, but its blessings are so much the more. I shall begin now to say somewhat, with the utmost brevity, of the blessings of the night of sense, that I may pass on to the other.

Of the benefits which the night of sense brings to the soul. This night and purgation of the appetite is full of happiness to the soul, involving grand benefits, though, as I have said,+ it seems to it as if all were lost. As Abraham made a great feast on the day of Isaac's weaning,§ so there is joy in heaven when God takes a soul out of its swaddling clothes ; when He takes His * S. Matt. vii. 14. f Bk. ii. ch. xii. t Ch. x. § 3. § Gen. xxi. S. arms from under it, and makes it walk alone ; when He denies it the sweet milk of the breast and the delicate food of children, and gives it bread with the crust to eat ; when it begins to taste the bread of the strong, which, in the aridities and darkness of sense, is given to the spirit emptied and dried of all sensible sweetness ; namely, the bread of infused contemplation, of which I have spoken.* This is the first and chief benefit which the soul gains here, and from which almost all the others flow. 2. Of these, the first is the knowledge of self and its own vileness. For over and above that those graces which God bestows on the soul, are ordinarily included in this knowledge of self, these aridities and the emptiness of the faculties as to their former abounding, and the difficulty which good works present, bring the soul to a knowledge of its own vileness and misery, which in the season of prosperity it saw not. This truth is vividly shadowed forth in the book of Exodus. There we read that God, about to humble the children of Israel and bring them to a knowledge of themselves, commanded them to lay aside their ornaments and festival attire, which they ordinarily wore in the wilderness, saying,t ' Now, lay aside thy ornaments ; " that is, lay aside thy festival attire, and put on thy working dress, that thou mayest know what treatment thou hast deserved.

* Cb. vii. § 8. f Exod. xxxiii. 5. 3. It is as if He said to the people : ' Inasmuch as the ornaments you wear, being those of joy and festivity, are the cause why you think not meanly of yourselves — you really are mean — lay them aside ; so that henceforth clad in vile garments, you may acknowledge that you deserve nothing better, and also who and what you are. 4. Hereby the soul learns the reality of its own. misery, which before it knew not. For in the day of festivity when it found great sweetness, comfort, and help in God, it was highly satisfied and pleased, thinking that it rendered some service to God. For though it may not then explicitly say so, yet, on account of the satisfaction it finds, it is not wholly free from feeling it. But when it has put on the garments of heaviness, of aridity and abandonment, when its previous lights have become darkness, it possesses and retains more truly that excellent and necessary virtue of self-knowledge, counting itself for nothing, and having no satisfaction in itself, because it sees that of itself it does and can do nothing.

5. This diminished satisfaction with self, and the affliction it feels because it thinks that it is not serving God, God esteems more highly than all its former delights and all its good works, however great they may have been ; for they were occasions of many imperfections and ignorances. But in this garb of aridity, not only these, of which I am speaking, but Other benefits also of which I shall presently speak, and many more than I can speak of, flow as from their proper source and fount, that of self-knowledge. 6. In the first place, the soul learns to commune with God with more respect and reverence ; always necessary in converse with the Most High. Now% in its prosperous days of sweetness and consolation, the soul was less observant of reverence, for the favours it then received, rendered the desire somewhat bold with God, and less reverent than it should have been. Thus it was with Moses, when he heard the voice of God ; for carried away by the delight he felt, he was venturing, without further consideration, to draw near, if God had not commanded him to .'-top, and put off his shoes, saying, * Come not nigh hither; put off the shoes from thy feet.'* This teaches us how reverently and discreetly in spiritual detachment we are to converse with God. When Moses had become obedient to the voice, he remained so reverent and considerate, that not only did he not venture to draw near, but, in the words of Scripture, ' durst not look at God.'t For having put off the shoes of desire and sweetness, he recognised profoundly his own wretchedness in the sight of God, for so it became him when about to listen to the words of God.

7. The condition to which God brought Job in order that he might converse with God, was not that of delight * Exod. iii. 5. f lb. 6. and bliss, of which he there speaks, and to which he had been accustomed, God left him in misery, naked on a dung-hill, abandoned and even persecuted by his friends, filled with bitterness and grief, covered with worms : * then it was that the Most High, Who lifteth up 'the poor out of the dung-hill,' f was pleased to communicate Himself to Job in greater abundance and sweetness, revealing to him ' the deep mysteries of His wisdom, '+ as He had never done before in the days of Job's prosperity. 8. And now that I have to speak of it, I must here point out another great benefit of the dark night and aridity of the sensual appetite ; the fulfilment of the words of the prophet, ' Thy light shall rise up in darkness,'§ God enlightens the soul, making it see not only its own misery and meanness, as I have said, but also His grandeur and majesty. When the desires are quelled, and sensible joy and consolation withdrawn, the understanding remains free and clear for the reception of the truth, for sensible joy and the desire even of spiritual things darken and perplex the mind, but the trials and aridities of sense also enlighten and quicken the understanding in the words of Isaias,|| 'Vexation alone shall give understanding in the hearing.' Vexation shall make us understand how God in His

* Job. ii. 8 ; xxx. 17, iS. f Ps. cxii. 7. I Job xxxviii. § Is. Iviii. 10. II Is. xxviii. 19. divine wisdom proceeds to instruct a soul, emptied and cleansed — for such it must be before it can be the recipient of the divine inflowing — in a supernatural way, in the dark and arid night of contemplation, which He did not do, because it was given up to its former sweetness and joy. 9. The same prophet Isaias sets this truth before us with great clearness, saying, * Whom shall he teach knowledge r and whom shall he make to understand the thing heard r Them that are weaned from the milk, that are plucked away from the breasts.'* The temper of mind, then, meet for the divine inflowing is not so much the milk of spiritual sweetness, nor the breasts of sweet reflections in the powers of sense, which the soul once had, as a failure of the first and withdrawal from the other. Therefore, if we would listen to the voice of the great King with due reverence, the soul must stand upright, and not lean on the affections of sense for support. As the prophet Habacuc said of himself, * I will stand upon my watch, and fix my step upon the munition, and I will behold to see what may be said to me.'f To stand upon the watch, is to cast off all desires ; to fix the step, is to cease from reflections of sense, that I may behold and understand what God will speak to me. Thus out of this night springs first the knowledge of one's self, and on that, as on a foundation, is built up the

* Is. 9. t Habac. ii. i. knowledge of God. ' Let me know myself,' saith St. Augustin, * and I shall then know Thee, O my God,' for, as the philosophers say, one extreme is known by another. 10. In order to show more fully how effectual is the night of sense, in its aridity and desolation, to enlighten the soul more and more, I produce here the words of the Psalmist, which so clearly explain how greatly efficacious is this night in bringing forth the knowledge of God : * In a desert land, and inaccessible, and without water ; so in the holy have I appeared to Thee, that I might see Thy strength and Thy glory.'* The Psalmist does not say here — and it is worthy of observation — that his previous sweetness and delight were any dispositions or means whereby he might come to the knowledge of the glory of God, but rather that aridity and emptying of the powers of sense spoken of here as the barren and dry land. 1 1. Moreover, he does not say that his reflections and meditations on divine things, with which he was once familiar, had led him to the knowledg'e and contemplation of God's power, but, rather, his inability to meditate on God, to form reflections by the help of his imagination ; that is the inaccessible land. The means, therefore, of attaining to the knowledge of God, and of ourselves, is the dark night with all its aridities

* Ps. Ixii. 3. and emptiness ; though not in the fulness and abundance of the other night of the spirit : for the knowledge that comes by this is, as it were, the beginning of the other. 12. Amid the aridities and emptiness of this night ot the desires, the soul acquires also spiritual humility, which is the virtue opposed to the first capital sin, which, I said,* is spiritual pride. The humility acquired by self-knowledge purifies the soul from all the imperfections into which it fell in the day of its prosperity. For now, seeing itself so parched and miserable, it does not enter into its thoughts, even for a moment, to consider itself better then others, or that it has outstripped them on the spiritual road, as it did before ; on the contrary, it acknowledges that others are better. 13. Out of this grows the love of our neighbour, for it now esteems them, and no longer judges them as it used to do, when it looked upon itself as exceedingly fervent, and upon others as not. Now it sees nothing but its own misery, which it keeps so constantly before its eyes that it can look upon nothing else. This state is admirably shown by David himself, when in this dark night, saying, ' I was dumb, and was humbled, and kept silence from good things, and my sorrow was renewed.'! All the good of his soul seemed to him so mean that he could not speak of it ; he was silent as to the good of

* Ch. ii. t P^- xxxviii. 3. Others, because of the pain of the knowledge of his own wretchedness. 14. In this state, too, men are submissive and obedient in the spiritual way, for when they see their own wretchedness they not only li'sten to instruction, but desire to have it from any one who will guide their steps and tell them what they ought to do. That presumption which sometimes possessed them in their prosperity is now gone ; and, finally, all those imperfections are swept clean away to which I referred when I was treating of spiritual pride.

Of other benefits which the night of sense brings to The imperfections of spiritual avarice, under the influence of which the soul coveted this and that spiritual good, and was never satisfied with this or that practice of devotion, because of its eagerness for the sweetness it found therein, become now, in this arid and dark night, sufficiently corrected. For when the soul finds no sweetness and delight, as it was wont to do, in spiritual things, but rather bitterness and vexation, it has recourse to them with such moderation as to lose now, perhaps, through defect, what it lost before, through excess. Though, in general, to those who are brought to this night, God gives humility and readiness, but without sweetness, in order that they may obey Him solely through love. Thus they detach themselves from many things, because they find no sweetness in them. 2. The soul is p'urified, also, from those impurities ot spiritual luxury of which I have spoken before,* in this aridity and bitterness of sense which it now finds in spiritual things ; for those impurities are commonly said to proceed generally from the sweetness which flowed occasionally from the spirit into the sense.

3. The imperfections of the fourth sin, spiritual gluttony, from which the soul is delivered in the dark night, have been discussed in a former chapter, fthough not all, because they cannot be numbered. Nor shall I speak of them here, for I wish to conclude the subject of this night, that I may pass on to the other, with regard to which I have serious things to write. Let it suffice for a knowledge of the innumerable advantages which the soul, in addition to those already mentioned, gains, in this night, wherewith to resist spiritual gluttony, to say that it is set free from the imperfections there enumerated, and from many other and greater evils than those described, into which many fall, as we learn by experience, because they have not corrected their desires in the matter of spiritual gluttony. 4. For when God has brought the soul into this * Ch. iv. f Ch. vi. arid and dark night, He so curbs desire and bridles concupiscence that it can scarcely feed at all upon the sensible sweetness of heavenly or of earthly things, and this so continuously that it corrects, mortifies, and controls its concupiscence and desires, so that the forces of its passions seem to be destroyed. Marvellous benefits flow from that spiritual soberness, in addition to those I have mentioned ; for because it mortifies concupiscence and desire, the soul dwells in spiritual tranquillity and peace ; for, where concupiscence and desire have no sway, there is no trouble, but, rather, the peace and consolation of God.

5. Another benefit comes from this ; a constant remembrance of God, with the fear and dread that it is, as I have said,* going back on the spiritual way. This is a great benefit, and not one of the least, of aridity and purgation of the appetite, for the soul is purified and cleansed thereby, from those imperfections which clung to it because of the affections and desires, the effect of which is to darken and deaden the soul. 6. Another very great benefit to the soul in this night is, that it practices many virtues at once, as patience and long suffering, which are well tried in these aridities, the soul persevering in its spiritual exercises without sweetness or comfort. The love of God is practised, because it is no longer attracted by sweetness * Ch. ix. § 3. and consolation, but by God only. The virtue ot fortitude also is practised, because amid these difficulties, and the absence of sweetness in good works from which the soul now suffers, it gathers strength from weakness, and so becomes strong : finally, all the virtues, cardinal, theological, and moral, are practised amidst these aridities. 7. In this night the soul obtains these four benefits here mentioned, namely, delight of peace, constant remembrance of God, purity and cleanness of soul, the practice of all the virtues of which I have just spoken. So David speaks from his own experience when he was in this night. ' My soul,' he saith, ' refuses to be comforted ; I was mindful of God and was delighted, and was exercised, and my spirit fainted.' He adds forthwith : ' I meditated in the night with my own heart, and I was exercised, and I swept my spirit '* clean of all affections.

8. The soul is purified also in this aridity of the desires from the imperfections of the other three capital sins of which I have spoken, f envy, anger, and sloth, and acquires the opposite virtues. Softened and humbled by these aridities, by the hardships, temptations, and afflictions which in this night try it, it becomes gentle with God, with itself, and with its neighbour. It is no longer impatiently angry with itself because of its * Ps. Ixxvi. 3, 4, 7. I Ch. vii. own faults, nor with its neighbour because of his ; neither is it discontented or given to unseemly complaints against God because He does not sanctify it at once. As to envy, the soul is in charity with everyone, and if any envy remain, it is no longer vicious as before, when the soul was afflicted when it saw others preferred to it, and raised higher ; for now it yields to everyone considering its own misery, and the envy it feels, if it feels any, is a virtuous envy, a desire to emulate them, which is great virtue. 9. The sloth and weariness now felt in spiritual things are no longer vicious as they were once. They were once the fruit of spiritual delights which the soul experienced at times, and sought after when it had them not. But this present weariness proceeds not from the failure of sweetness, for God has taken it all away in this purgation of the desire.

10. Other innumerable benefits beside these, flow from this arid contemplation ; for, in the midst of these aridities and hardship, God communicates to the soul, when it least expects it, spiritual sweetness, most pure love, and spiritual knowledge of the most exalted kind, of greater worth and profit than any of which it had previous experience, though at first the soul may not think so, for the spiritual influence now communicated is most delicate, and imperceptible by sense. 11. Finally, as the soul is purified from all sensual affections and desires, it attains to liberty of spirit, wherein the twelve fruits of the Holy Ghost are had. It is also delivered in a most wonderful way from the hands of its three enemies — the devil, the world, and the flesh ; for when all the delight and sweetness of sense are quenched, the devil, the world, and the flesh have no weapons and no strength wherewith to assail it. 12. These aridities, then, make the soul love God in all pureness, for now it is influenced not by the pleasure and sweetness which it found in its works — as perhaps it was when that sv^^eetness was present — but by the sole desire to please God. It is not presumptuous and self-satisfied, or perhaps it may have been in the day of its prosperity, but timid and diffident, without any selfsatisfaction. Herein consists that holy fear by which virtues are preserved and grow. This aridity quenches concupiscence, and our natural spirits, as I said before ;* for now, when God infuses, from time to time. His own sweetness into the soul, it would be strange if it found by any efforts of its own as has been already said,t any comfort or sweetness in any spiritual act or practice.

13. The fear of God and the desire to please Him increase in this arid night ; for as the breasts of sensuality which nourished and sustained the desires which the soul followed after, become dry, nothing remains in that aridity and detachment but an anxious * Ch. iv. § 9, t Ch. ix. § 11. desire to serve God, which is most pleasing unto Him, as it is written : ' a sacrifice to God is an afflicted spirit.'* 14. When the soul beholds the many and great benefits which have fallen to its lot in this arid purgation through which it passed, it cries out with truth, 'oh, happy lot, forth unobserved I went.' I escaped from the bondage and thraldom of my sensual desires and affections, unobserved, so that none of my three enemies were able to hinder me. These enemies of the soul already spoken oft so bind and imprison it in sensual desires and affections, that it cannot go forth out ot itself to the liberty of the perfect love of God ; without them they cannot attack it. 15. Hence, when by continual mortification the four passions of the soul are calmed, that is, joy, grief, hope, and fear, when the natural desires are lulled to sleep in our sensual nature by persistent aridities, when the senses and the interior powers of the soul cease to be active, and meditation no longer pursued, as has been already said,J which is the household of the lower part of the soul, then the liberty of the spirit is unassailable by these enemies and the house remains calm and tranquil as the words that follow show.

The last line of the first stanza explained. * My house being now at rest.' When the house ot sensuality was at rest, that is, when the passions were mortified, concupiscence quenched, the desires subdued and lulled to sleep in the blessed night of the purgation of sense, the soul began to set out on the way of the spirit, the way of proficients, which is also called the illuminative way, or the way of infused contemplation, wherein God Himself teaches and refreshes the soul without meditation or any active efforts that itself may deliberately make. Such, as I have said, is this night and purgation of the senses. 2. But this night, in their case who are to enter into that other more awful night of the spirit, that they may go forward to the divine union of the love of God — it is not everyone, but only a few who do so in general — is attended with heavy trials and temptations of sense of long continuance, in some longer than in others ; for to some is sent the angel of satan, the spirit of impurity, to buffet them with horrible and violent temptations of the flesh, to trouble their minds with filthy thoughts, and their imaginations with representations of sin most vividly depicted ; which, at times, becomes an affliction more grievous than death.

3 At other times this night is attended by the spirit CHAP. XIV.] OF THE SOUL. fJO of blasphemy ; the thoughts and conceptions are overrun with intolerable blasphemies, which now and then are suggested to the imagination with such violence as almost to break forth in words ; this, too, is a heavyaffliction. 4. Again, another hateful spirit, called by the prophet, * the spirit of giddiness,'* comes to torment them. This spirit so clouds their judgment that they are filled with a thousand scruples and perplexities so embarrassing that they can never satisfy themselves about them, nor submit their judgment therein to the counsel and direction of others. This is one of the most grievous stings and horrors of this night, approaching very nearly to that which takes place in the night of the spirit. 5. God ordinarily sends these violent storms and temptations, in the night of the purgation of the sense to those whom he is about to lead afterwards into the other night — though all do not enter in — that being thus chastened and buffeted they may prove themselves, dispose and inure sense and faculties for the union of the divine wisdom to which they are to be then admitted. For if the soul be not tempted, tried, and proved in temptations and afflictions, sense will never attain to wisdom. That is why it is said in Ecclesiasticus,t ' What doth he know,' asks the wise man, * that hath not been tried r ... he that hath no experience

* Is. xix. 14. f Eccles. xxxiv. 9, 10, 11. knoweth little. ... he that hath not been tried, what manner of things doth he know : ' Jeremias also bears witness to the same truth, saying : ' thou hast chastised me, and I was instructed.'* The most proper form of this chastening, for him who will apply himself unto wisdom, are those interior trials of which I am now speaking. They are that which most effectually purges sense of all sweetness and consolations, to which, by reason of our natural weakness, we are addicted, and by them the soul is really humbled that it may be prepared for its coming exaltation. 6. But how long the soul will continue in this fast and penance of sense, cannot with certainty be told, because it is not the same in all, neither are all subjected to the same temptations. These trials are measured by the divine will, and are proportioned to the imperfections, many or few, to be purged away : and also to the degree of union in love to which God intends to raise the soul ; that is the measure of its humiliations, both in their intensity and duration.

7. Those who are strong and more able to bear suffering, are purified in more intense trials, and in less time. But those who are weak are purified very slowly, with weak temptations, and the night of their purgation is long : their senses are refreshed from time to time lest they should fall away ; these, however, come late to the * Jerem. xxxi. 18. pureness of their perfection in this life, and some of them never. These persons are not clearly in the purgative night, nor clearly out of it ; for though they make no progress, yet in order that they may be humble and know themselves, God tries them for a season in aridities and temptations, and visits them with His consolations at intervals lest they should become fainthearted, and seek for comfort in the ways of the world. 8. From other souls, still weaker, God, as it were, hides Himself, that He may try them in His love, for without this hiding of His face from them they would never learn how to approach Him. But those souls that are to enter so blessed and high a state as this of the union of love, however quickly God may lead them,, tarry long, in general, amidst aridities, as we see by experience. Having now brought the first book to a close, I proceed to treat of the second night.

The Second Night ; that of the spirit. When it begins. The soul, which God is leading onwards, enters not into the union of love at once when it has passed through the aridities and trials of the first purgation and night of sense ; yea, rather it must spend some time, perhaps years, after quitting the state of beginners, in exercising itself in the state of proficients- In this state — as one released from a rigorous imprisonment — it occupies itself in divine things with much greater freedom and satisfaction, and its joy is more abundant and interior than it was in the beginning before it entered the night of sense ; its imagination and faculties are not held, as hitherto, in the bonds of meditation and spiritual reflections ; it now rises at once to most tranquil and loving contemplation, and finds spiritual sweetness without the fatigue of meditation. 2. However, as the purgation of the soul is still somewhat incom.plete — the chief part, the purgation of the spirit, being wanting, without which, by reason of the union of our higher and lower nature, man being an individual, the purgation of sense, however violent it may have been, is not finished and perfect — the soul will never be free from aridities, darkness, and trials, sometimes much more severe than in the past, which are, as it were, signs and heralds of the coming night of the spirit, though not so lasting as that expected night ; for when the days of the season of this tempestuous night have passed, the soul recovers at once its wonted serenity. It is in this way that God purifies some souls who are not to rise to so high a degree of love as others. He admits them at intervals into the night of contemplation or spiritual purgation, causing the sun to shine upon them, and then to hide its face, according to the words of the Psalmist : ' He sendeth His crystal,' that is contemplation, ' like morsels.'* These morsels of dim contemplation are, however, never so intense as is that awful night of contemplation of which I am speaking, and in which God purposely places the soul, that He may raise it to the divine union.

3. That sweetness and interior delight, which proficients find so easily and so plentifully, come now in greater abundance than before, overflowing into the senses more than they were wont to do previous to the purgation of sense. The senses now being more pure, * Ps. cxlvii. 17. can taste of the sweetness of the spirit in their way with greater ease. But as the sensual part of the soul is weak, without any capacity for the strong things of the spirit, they who are in the state of proficients by reason of the spiritual communications made to the sensual part, are subject therein to great infirmities and sufferings, and physical derangements, and consequently weariness of mind, as it is written : ' the corruptible body . . , presseth down the mind.'* Hence the communications made to these cannot be very strong, intense, or spiritual, such as they are required to be for the divine union with God, because of the weakness and corruption of the sensual part which has a share in them. 4. Here is the source of ecstasies, raptures, and dislocation of the bones which always happen whenever these communications are not purely spiritual ; that is, granted to the mind alone, as in the case of the perfect, already purified in the second night of the spirit. In these, raptures and physical sufferings have no place, for they enjoy liberty of spirit with unclouded and unsuspended senses. To make it clear how necessary it is for proficients to enter into the night of the spirit, I will now proceed to point out certain imperfections and dangers which beset them.

* Wisd. ix. 15. Of certain imperfections of proficients. Proficients labour under two kinds of imperfections ; one habitual, the other actual. The habitual imperfections are their affections and imperfect habits which still remain, like roots, in the mind, where the purgation of sense could not penetrate. The difference between the purgation of these and of the others, is like the difference between plucking out a root, and tearing off a branch, or removing a fresh, and an old stain. For, as I have said,* the purgation of sense is, for the spirit, merely the gate and entrance of contemplation, and serves rather to bend sense to the spirit than to unite the latter with God. The stains of the old man still remain in the spirit, though not visible to it, and if they be not removed by the strong soap and lye of the purgation of this night, the spirit cannot attain to the pureness of the divine union. 2. They suffer also from dulness of mind, and natural rudeness which every man contracts by sin ; from distraction and dissipation^ of mind, which must be refined, enlightened, and made recollected in the sufferings and hardships of this night. All those who have not advanced beyond the state of proficients are * Bk. 1. ch. XI., § 3.

subject to these habitual imperfections, which cannot co-exist with the perfect state of union with God in love. 3. But all are not subject to actual imperfections in the same way ; some, whose spiritual good is so much on the surface, and so much under the influence of sense, fall into certain unseemlinesses and dangers, of which I spoke in the beginning of this book. For as their mind and sense and fe(^lings are full of fancies whereby they very often see imaginary and spiritual visions — all this, together with other pleasurable impressions, befall many of them in this state, wherein the devil and their own proper fancy most frequently delude the soul — and as satan is wont with so much sweetness to insinuate, a.nd impress these imaginations, they are easily deluded and influenced by him, because they do not take the precaution to resign themselves into the hands of God, and defend themselves vigorously against these visions and impressions. For now the devil causes them both to believe in many vain visions and false prophecies, and to presume that God and His saints are speaking to them : they also frequently believe in their own fancies.