The Spiritual Guide

grievances to fall on us, to humble and annihilate us and make us live wholly resigned. Behold how God makes greater account of a _ soul that lives internally resigned than of another that doth miracles, even to the raising of the dead. Many souls there are, which, though they exercise prayer, yet, because they are not mortified, are always imperfect and full of self-love. Hold it for a true maxim, that nobody can do a grievance or injury to a soul despised by itself, and one that is nothing in its own account. Finally, be of hope, suffer, be silent, and patient : let nothing affright thee : all of it will have a time to end: God only is He that is unchangeable: patience brings a man in everything. He that hath God hath all things ; and he that hath Him not hath nothing.

For the obtaining of Internal Peace, it is necessary Sor the Soul to know his misery. F the soul should not fall into some faults, it would never come to understand its own “misery, though it hears men speak, and reads spiritual books ; nor can it ever obtain precious weakness ; because there the remedy is difficult, % where there is no clear knowledge of the defect. God will suffer in thee sometimes one fault, % knowledge and belief, true peace and perfect humility is founded. And that thou mayest the — better search into this mystery, and see what “a thou art, I will try to undeceive thee in some of — ss thy manifold imperfections. a - Thou art so quick and nice, that it may be ify thou dost but trip as thou walkest, or findest thy way molested, thou feelest even hell itself, If thou art denied thy due, or thy pleasure opposed, thou presently briskest up with a warm resentment of it. If thou spiest a fault in thy neigh- _ bour, instead of pitying him and thinking th thou thyself art liable to the same failing, tho indiscreetly reprovest him ; if thou seest a thing convenient for thee, and canst not compass it, thou growest sad and full of sorrow ; if tho ~receivest a slight injury from thy neighboui thou chidest at him, and complainest for it, ins much, that for any trifle thou art inwardly and — outwardly discomposed, and losest thyself =

patience ; and if the impatience still continues, thou layest the fault with much pains upon thy companion, without considering that thou art intolerable to thyself ; and when the rancour is over, thou cunningly dost return to make thyself virtuous, giving documents and relating spiritual sayings with artifice of wit, without mending thy past faults. Although thou willingly dost condemn thyself, reproving thy faults before others, yet this thou dost more to justify thyself with him that sees thy faults, that thou mayest return again afresh to the former esteem of thyself, than through any effect of perfect humility. Other times thou dost subtly allege that it is not through fault but zeal of justice that thou complainest of thy neighbour. Thou believest for the most part that thou art virtuous, constant, and courageous, even to the giving up of thy life into the tyrant’s hand, solely for the sake of Divine love ; yet thou canst scarce hear the least word of anger, but presently thou dost affiict and trouble and disquiet thyself. These are all industrious engines of self-love, and the secret pride of thy soul. Know therefore that self-love reigns in thee, and from the purchasing this precious peace, that is thy greatest hindrance.

In which is shown and discovered what vs the false B humility, and what the true ; with the Pies of = them. . humility—one false and counterfeit, he | other true. The false one is theirs who, like — water, which must mount upward, receive an S again E netiatalee | These avoid eae and 4 honour, that so they may be taken to be humble. : They say of themselves that they are very evil. tf that they may be thought good; and though they know their own misery, yet they:are loth that other folks should know it. This is dis secret pride. Theirs is the true humility who have Be a perfect habit of it ; these never think of it, bi God; they mind not themselves nor the creatures they are constant and quiet in all things ; suffer molestation with joy, desiring money by the world ; they are contented with what God allots them, and are convinced of their faults with a pleasing shame; they are not humbled by the counsel of reason, but by the affection of the will; there is no honour that they look after, nor injury to disturb them, no trouble to vex them, no prosperity to make them proud, because they are always immoveable in their nothing and in themselves with absolute peace.

And that thou mayest be acquainted with interior and true humility, know that it doth not consist in external acts, in taking the lowest place, in going poor in clothes, in speaking submissively, in shutting the eyes, in affectionate sighings, nor in condemning thy ways, calling thyself miserable, to give others to understand that thou art humble. It consists only in the contempt of thyself and the desire to be despised, with a low and profound knowledge, without concerning thyself whether thou art esteemed humble or not, though an angel should reveal such a thing to thee. The torment of light, wherewith the Lord with His graces enlightens the soul, doth two things ; it discovers the greatness of God, and at the same time the soul knows its own stench and misery, insomuch that no tongue is able to express the depth in which it is overwhelmed, being de- sirous that every one should know its humility 2 and it is so far from vainglory and complacency, _ as it sees that grace of God to be the mere goo de ; ness of Him, and nothing but His mercy, which a is pleased to take pity on it. é Thou shalt never be hurt by men or devil, bull by thyself, thy own proper pride, and the violen of thy passions. . Take heed of thyself, for thou, — of thyself, art the greatest devil of all to thyself.

os Have no mind to be esteemed, when God in carnate was called fool, drunkard, and said to have a devil. Oh, the folly of Christians! Thi a we should be willing to enjoy happiness, without oa being willing to imitate Him on the cross, i in 5 reproaches, humility, poverty, and in other 5 virtues ! ey The truly humbled man is at rest and ease ; his heart ; there he stands the trial of God ar men, and the devil himself, above all reason an discretion, possessing himself in peace and qu - ness; looking for, with all humility, the p pleasure of God, as well in life as death. Thi without do no more disquiet him than if t never were. The cross to him, and even de itself, are delights, though he make no such sho outwardly. But oh, whom do we speak of ? few there are of these sort of humble men i whole world.

A te % ' x Bat tt, <n ne J 9 ae Hope thou, and desire, and suffer, and die without anybody’s knowing it; for herein consists the humble and perfect love. Oh, how much peace wilt thou find in thy soul if thou dost profoundly humble thyself, and even hug contempt ! Thou wilt never be barfettly humble, Abou thou knowest thy own misery, unless thou desirest all men should know it; then thou wilt avoid praises, embrace injuries, despise everything that makes a fair show, even to thine own self; and if any tribulation come upon thee, blame none for it, but judge that it comes from God’s hand, as the giver of every good. | If thou wouldst bear thy neighbour’s faults, east thine eye upon thine own; and if thou thinkest to thyself that thou hast made any progress in perfection by thyself, know that thou. art not humble at all, nor hast yet made one step in the way of the spirit. The degrees of humility are the qualities of a body in the grave ; that is, to be in the lowest place, buried like one that’s dead, to stink, and be corrupted to itself, to be dust, and nothing in one’s own account. Finally, if thou wouldst — be blessed, learn to despise thyself, and to be _ despised by others.

Maxims, to know a simple, humble, and true hea ; bey ot Ee soe thyself to be humble, ¢ em- . bracing tribulations as instruments of thy good ; rejoice in contempt, and desire that God may be thy holy refuge, comfort, and protector. | : None, let him be never so great in this wor Be: can be greater than he that is in the eye a man despises whatever there is in the wo even to himself, and puts his only trust and : pose in God. The truly humble man suffers quietly : an patiently internal troubles ; and he is the m that makes great way in a little time, like ¢ 0 that sails before the wind. : The truly humble man finds God in all thi so that whatever contempt, injury, or affr come to him by means of the creatures, receives it with great peace and quiet intern as sent from the Divine hand, and loves great He is not yet arrived at profound humi that is taken with praise, though he do desire it, nor seek it, but rather avoids cause, to an humble heart, praises are bitter crosses, although it be wholly quiet and immoveable.

He has no internal humility who doth not abhor himself, with a mortal, but withal a peaceable and quiet hatred ; but he will never come to possess this treasure that has not a low and profound knowledge of his own vileness, rottenness, and misery. He that is upon excuses and replies has not a simple and humble heart, especially if he does this with his superiors; because replies grow from a secret pride that reigns in the soul, and from thence proceeds the total ruin of it. Perfidiousness supposes little submission, and this less humility ; and both together they are the fuel of inquietness, discord, and disturbance. The humble heart is not disquieted by imperfections, though these do grieve it to the soul ; because they are against its loving Lord. Nor is he concerned that he cannot do great things ; for he always stands in his own nothingness and misery ; nay, he wonders at himself that he can do anything of virtue, and presently thanks the Lord for it, with a true knowledge that it is God that doth all, and remains dissatisfied with what he does himself. The truly humble man, though he sees all, yet

he looks upon nothing to judge it, because judges ill only of himself. “ag - The truly humble man doth always find excuse to defend him that mortifies him, at le in a sound intention. Who therefore would angry with a man of good intention ? So much (nay more) doth false humility please God, as true pride does ; because that : hypocrisy besides. i The truly humble man, though everythinie fall a out contrary to him, is neither disquieted no afflicted by it ; because he is prepared, and think he deserves no less. He is not disquieted un troublesome thoughts, wherewith the devil se to torment him, nor under temptations, tribula tions, and desertions ; but rather acknowledge his unworthiness, and is affected that the Lor chastises him by the devil’s means, though he a vile instrument ; all he suffers seems nothi to him, and he never doth a thing that he thi worth any great matter. He that is arrived at perfect and inward hu lity, although he be disturbed at nothing, as that abhors himself, because he knows his im fection in everything, his ingratitude and misery, yet he suifers: a great cross in we

to this holy hatred of itself, lives overwhelmed, drowned, and swallowed up in the depths of its own nothingness, out of which the Lord raises - him, by communicating Divine wisdom to him, and filling him with light, peace, tranquillity, and love.

Inward solitude is that which chiefly brings a man to the purchase of internal peace. NOW, that although exterior solitude doth much assist for the obtaining internal peace, “yet the Lord did not mean this, when He spake by ’ His prophet (Hos. ii. 14)—I will bring her into solitude, and speak privately to her; but He meant the interior solitude, which jointly conduces to the obtaining the precious jewel of peace internal. Internal solitude consists in the forgetting of the creatures, in disengaging one’s self from them, in a perfect nakedness of all the affections, desires, thoughts, and one’s own will. This is the true solitude, where the soul reposes with a sweet and inward serenity in the arms of its chiefest good. Oh, what infinite room is there in a soul that is arrived at this Divine solitude! Oh, what inward, what retired, what secret, what spacious, wha vast distances are there within a happy soul that 4 is once come to be truly solitary! There the Lord converses and communicates Himself in- a wardly with the soul ; there He fills it with Himself, because it is oniniy a ; clothes it with light and with His love, because itisnaked ; liftsit up, because it is low; and unites it with Himself, -and transforms it, attics it is alone. Fa O delightful solitude and cipher of eternal bless- y angs! O mirror, in which the Eternal Father is always beheld! There is great reason to call thee Pi solitude ; for thou art so much alone that there scarce a soul that looks after thee, that loves w knows thee. O Dwine Lord! How is rt that sor do not go from earth to this glory! How come t to lose so great a good, through the only love and

Him only, breathe after none but Him; let only have thy sighs. Desire nothing, and then % thing can trouble thee; and if thou dost desire o good, how spiritual soever it be, let it be in such w manner that thou mayest not be disymeted v i muss rt. If, with this liberty, thou wilt give thy sou God, taken off from the world, free and al thou wilt be the happiest creature upon because the Most High has His secret habi in this holy solitude. In this desert and pa is enjoyed the conversation of God ; and it is only in this internal retirement that that marvellous, powerful, and Divine voice is heard. If thou wouldst enter into this heaven of earth, forget every care and every thought: get out of thyself, that the love of God may live in thy soul. Live as much as ever thou canst abstracted from the creatures, dedicate thyself wholly to thy Creator, and offer thyself in sacrifice with peace and quietness of spirit. Know that the more the soul disrobes itself, the more way it makes into this interior solitude, and becomes clothed with God ; and the more lonesome and empty of itself the soul gets to be, the more the Divine Spirit fills it.

There is not a more blessed life than a solitary One ; because in this happy life God gives Himself all to the creature and the creature all to God, by an intimate and sweet union and love. Oh, how few are there that come to relish this true solitude ! To make the soul truly solitary, it ought to forget all the ereatures, and even itself ; otherwise it will never be able to make any near approach to God. Many men leave and forsake all things, but they do not leave their own liking, their own will, and themselves ; and therefore these truly solitary ones are so few. Wherefore, if the soul does not get off from its own appetite and desire, from its own will, from spiritual gifts, and from repose even in the spirit itself, it never can arrive at this high felicity of internal solitude. Go on, blessed soul! Go on, without stop, towards this blessedness of internal solitude. See how God calls thee to enter into thy inward — centre, where He will renew thee, change thee, fill thee, clothe thee, and show thee a new and heavenly kingdom, full of joy, peace, content, and —

In which is shown what infused and passive contem- — plation rs, and its wonderful effects. OU must know that when once the soul is — habituated to internal recollection and ac- quired contemplation that we have spoken of; — when once it is mortified, dnd desires wholly to | be denied its appetites ; when once it efficaciously embraces internal and external mortification, and is willing to die heartily to its passions and its ; own ways, ‘then God uses to take it alone by — itself, and raise it more than it knows to a complete ‘repose, where He sweetly and inwardly . infuses in it His light, His love, and His strength, — enkindling and inflaming it with a true disposition to all manner of virtue. There the Divine spouse, suspending its powers, puts it to sleep in a most sweet and pleasant rest ; there it sleeps, and quietly receives and enjoys (without knowing it) what it enjoys, with a most lovely and charming calm. There the soul, raised and lifted up to this passive state, becomes united to its greatest good, without costing it any trouble or pains for this union. There, in that supreme region and sacred temple of the soul, that greatest good takes its complacency, manifests itself, and creates a relish from the creature in a way above sense and all human understanding. There also only the pure Spirit, who is God (the purity of the soul being incapable of sensible things), rules it, and gets the mastership of it, communicating to it its illustrations and those sentiments which are necessary for the most pure and perfect union.

The soul, coming to itself again from these sweet and Divine embracings, becomes rich in light and love, and a mighty esteem of the Divine greatness, and the knowledge of its own misery, finding itself all changed divinely, and disposed to embrace, suffer, and to practise perfect virtue. A simple, pure, infused, and perfect contemplation therefore is a known and inward manifesta- tion which God gives of Himself, of His goodness, of His peace, of His sweetness, whose object is God, pure, unspeakable, abstracted from all particular thoughts, within an inward silence. But it is God delightful, God that draws us, God that sweetly raises us in a spiritual and most pure manner; an admirable gift which the Divine Majesty bestows to whom He will, as He will, and when He will, and for what time He will, though the state of this life be rather a state of the cross, of patience, of humility, and of suffering, than of enjoying. Never wilt thou enjoy this Divine nectar till thou art advanced in virtue and inward mortifications, till thou dost heartily endeavour to fix in | thy soul a great peace, silence, forgetfulness, and internal solitude. How is it possible to hear the sweet, inward, and powerful voice of God in the midst of the noise and tumults of the creatures? And how can the pure spirit be heard in the midst of considerations and discourses of artifice? If the soul will not continually die in itself, denying itself to all these materialities and satisfactions, the contemplation can be no more but a mere vanity, a vain complacency and presen tion.

Pursues the same Matter. fo doth not always communicate Himself with equal abundance in this sweetest and infused contemplation. Sometimes He grants this grace more than He doth at other times; and sometimes He expects not that the soul should be so dead and denied, because this gift being His mere grace, He gives it when He pleases, and as He pleases ; so that no general rule can be made of it, nor any rate set to His Divine greatness ; nay, by means of this very contemplation He comes to deny it, to annihilate and die. Sometimes the Lord gives greater light to the understanding, sometimes greater love to the will. There is no need here for the soul to take any pains or trouble ; it must receive what God gives it, and rest united, as He will have it: because His Majesty is Lord, and in the very time that He lays it asleep He possesses and fills it, and works in it powerfully and sweetly, without any industry or knowledge of its own; insomuch that before ever it is aware of this so great mercy, it is gained, convinced, and changed already. _ The soul which is in this happy state hath two things to avoid, the activity of human spirit

and interestedness. Our human spirit is unwilling to die in itself, but loveth to be doing and discoursing after its way, being in love with its own actions. A man had need to have a great fidelity, and, divesting himself of selfishness, to get a perfect and passive capacity of the Divine influences ; the continual habits of operating — freely which it has are a hindrance to its anni- hilation. The second is interestedness in contemplation itself. Thou must therefore procure in thy soul a perfect divesting of all which is not God, with- : out seeking any other end or interest, within or © without, but the Divine will. In a word, the manner that thou must use on thy part to fit thyself for this pure, passive, and — perfect prayer is a total and absolute consignment of thyself into the hands of God, with a perfect — submission to His most holy will, to be busied — according to His pleasure and disposition, receiv-— ing what He ordains thee with an even and Pe Thou. must know that few be the souls which ; -arrive at this infused and passive prayer ; because — few of them are capable of these Divine influences, E

with a total nakedness, and death of their own activity and power. Those only who feel itig know it so, that this perfect nakedness is cequied | (by the help of God’s grace) by a continual and inward mortification, dying to all its own inclinations and desires. . At no time must thou look at the effects which are wrought in thy soul, but especially herein ; because it would be a hindrance to the Divine operations which enrich it so to do; all that thou hast to do is to pant after indifference, resignation, forgetfulness, and without thy being sensible of it, the greatest good will leave in thy soul a fit disposition for the practice of virtue, a true love of thy cross, of thy own contempt, of thy annihilation, and greater and stronger desires still of thy greater perfection, and the most pure and affective union.

Of the two means whereby the soul ascends up to infused contemplation, with the explication of what and how many the steps of tt are. Aa means whereby the soul ascends to the felicity of contemplation and affective love | are two—the pleasure and the desires of it. God uses at first to fill the soul with sensible pleasures, because it is so frail and miserable that without. this preventive consolation it cannot take wing towards the fruition of heavenly things. In this first step it is disposed by contrition, and is exercised in repentance, meditating upon the Redeemer’s passion, rooting out diligently all worldly desires and vicious courses of life; because the kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and the faint heart, the delicate, never conquer it, but those that use violence and force with themselves. The second is the desires. The more the things of heaven are delighted in, the more they are desired ; and from thence there do ensue upon spiritual pleasures desires of enjoying heavenly — and Divine blessings, and contempt of worldly — ones. From these desires arises the inclination of following Christ our Lord, who said, I am the way (St. John xiv. 6). The steps of His imitation by —

which a man must go up are charity, humility, — meekness, patience, poverty, self-contempt, the Bae ae The steps of. infused contemplation are three. The first is satiety. When the soul is filled with God it conceives a hatred to all worldly things ; then it is quiet and satisfied only with Divine MS love. The second is intoxication. And this step is an excess of mind, and an elevation of soul ~ arising from Divine love and satiety of it. The third is security. This step turns out all fear: The soul is so drenched with love Divine, and re- i: pleasure, that it would go willingly to hell, if it did but know it so to be the will of the Most High. In this step it feels such a certain bond of the Divine union, that it seems to it an impossible thing to be separated from its beloved and His infinite treasure. There are six other steps of contemplation, which are these: fire, union, elevation, illumination, pleasure, and repose. With the first the soul is enkindled, and, being enkindled, is anointed ; being anointed, is raised ; being raised, contemplates ; contemplating, it receives pleasure ; and, receiving pleasure, it finds repose. By these _ steps the soul rises higher, being abstracted and experienced in the spiritual and internal way.

In the first step, which is fire, the soul is illustrated by the means of a Divine and ardent ray, enkindling the affections Divine, and drying up those which are but human. The second is the unction, which is a sweet and spiritual liquor, which, ~ diffusing itself all the soul over, teaches it, strengthens it, and disposes it to receive and contemplate the Divine truth ; and sometimes it extends even to nature itself, corroborating it by patience, with a sensible pleasure that seems celestial. The third is the elevation of the inner man over itself, that it may get fittest to the clear fountain of pure love. ~ _ The fourth step, which is illumination, is an : infused knowledge, whereby the soul contemplates sweetly the Divine truth, rising still from one clearness to another, from one lght to another, from knowledge to knowledge, being guided by the spirit Divine. The fifth is a savoury pleasure of the Divine sweetness, issuing forth from the plentiful and — precious fountain of the Holy Ghost. The sixth is a sweet and admirable tranquillity, arising from the conquest of fighting within and _ frequent prayer ; and this very very few have experience of. Here the abundance of joy and peace °

is so great that the soul seems to be in a sweet. sleep, solacing and reposing itself in the Divine — breast of love. Many other steps of contemplation there are, as ecstasies, raptures, meltings, deliquiums, glee, — kisses, embraces, exaltation, union, transforma- tion, ‘espousing, and matrimony, which I omit to — explain, to give no occasion to speculation, and — because there are whole books which treat of these points ; though they are all for him who finds nothing of them, any more than a blind man doth of colour, or a deaf man of music. In a word, by these steps we get up to the chamber and repose — of the pacific king, and the true Solomon. — . ae 4 “pas b %.. et oe

Signs to know the inner man, and the mind that is purged. HE signs to know the inner man by are four. The first, if the understanding produce no other thoughts than those which stir up to the light of faith ; and the will is so habituated that it begets no other acts of love than of God, and in orderto Him. The second, if when he ceases from an external work, in which he was employed, the understanding and the will are presently and easily turned to God. The third, if, in entering upon prayer, he forgets all outward things, as if he had not seen nor used them. The fourth, if he carries himself orderly towards outward things, as if he were entering into the world again, fearing to embroil himself in business, and naturally abhorring it, unless when charity requires it of him. Such a soul as this is free from the outward man, and easier enters into the interior solitude, where it sees none but God, and itself in Him, loving Him with quiet and peace and true love. There, in that secret centre, God is kindly speaking to it, teaching it a new kingdom, and true peace and joy.

This spiritual, abstracted, and retired soul hath its peace no more broken, though outwardly it may meet with combats; because through the infinite distance tempests do never reach to that serenest heaven within, where pure and perfect love resides ; and though sometimes it may be naked, forsaken, fought against, and desolate, this _ 4 is only the fury of the storm, which threatens and ~ rages nowhere but without. This secret love within hath four effects. The first is called tllumination, which is a savoury and experimental knowledge of the greatness of God and of its own nothingness. The second is inflammation, which is an ardent desire of being burned, like the salamander, in this kind and Divine fire. The third is sweetness, which is a peaceable, joyful, sweet, and intimate fruition. The fourth isa swallowing up-of the powers in God, by which immersion the soul is somuch drenched and filled with God, that it cannot any longer seek, desire, or will anything but its greatest and infinite good. From this fullest satiety two effects arise.. The first is a great courage to suffer for God; the second is a certain hope or assurance that it can never —

lose Him, nor be separated from Him. Here in this internal retirement the beloved _ Jesus hath His paradise, to whom we may go up, — standing and conversing on the earth. And if is x thou desirest to know who he is, who is altogether drawn to this inward retirement, with _ enlightened exemplification in God, I tell thee, it is he that in adversity, in discomfort of spirit, and in the want of necessities, stands firm and unshaken. These constant and inward souls are outwardly naked and wholly infused in God, whom they - continually do contemplate ; they have no spot ; they live in God, and of Himself; they shine __ brighter than a thousand suns ; they are beloved by the Son of God ; they are the darlings of God _ the Father, and elect spouses of the Holy Ghost. By three signs is a mind that is purged to be known, as St. Thomas says in a treatise of his: The first sign is diligence, which is a strength of mind that banishes all neglect and sloth, that it may be disposed with earnestness and confidence to the pursuit of virtue. The second is seversty, _ which likewise is a strength of mind against concupiscence, accompanied with an ardent love of roughness, vileness, and holy poverty. The third is benignity and sweetness of mind, which drive away all rancour, envy, aversion, and hatred against one’s neighbour.

Till the mind be purged, the affection purified, the memory naked, the understanding brightened, the will denied and set afire, the soul can never arrive at the intimate and affective union with God ; and therefore, because the spirit of God is purity itself, and light and rest, the soul (where He intends to make His abode) must have great — purity, peace, attention, and quiet. Finally, the © precious gift of a purged mind those only have who with continual diligence do seek, love, and retain it, and desire to be reputed the most vile — in the world. pe

IVINE wisdom is an intellectual and infused knowledge of the Divine perfections and things eternal, which ought rather to. be called contemplation than speculation. Science is ac- quired, and begets the knowledge of nature; wisdom is infused, and begets the knowledge of — the Divine goodness ; that desires to know what is not to be attained unto, without pain and sweat ; this desires not to know what it doth ~ know, although it understands it all. Inaword, — the men who are scientificek entertain themselves in the knowledge of the things of the world; and the wise lives swallowed up in God Himself. Reason enlightened in the wise is a high and simple elevation of spirit, whereby he sees, with a clear and sharp sight, all that isinferior to him, and what concerns his life and estate. This is that which renders the soul simple, illustrated, uniform, spiritual, and altogether introverted and abstracted from every created thing. This moves and draws away, with a sweet violence, the hearts of the humble and teachable, filling them with abundance of sweetness, peace, and pleasantness. Finally, the wise man says of it, that it brought him all good things at once: Venerunt mihi omnia bona pariter cum alla (Wisd. vii. 11).

You must know that the greatest part of men live by opinion, and judge according to the deceivableness of imagination and sense ; but the man. who is wise judges of everything according to the real verity which is in it; whose business is to understand, conceive, penetrate into, and transcend every created being, even to himself. It isa great property in a wise man to do much and say little. Wisdom is discovered in the works and words of the wise ; because he, being absolute master of all his passions, motions, and affections, is known in all his doings, like a quiet and still sae in which wisdom shines with clearness. The understanding of mystical truths is eat and shut up from men, who are purely scholastical, unless they be humble ; because it is the science of saints, and none know it but those who heartily love and seek their own contempt. Therefore the souls, who, by embracing this means, get to be purely mystical and truly humble, dive even to the profoundest apprehensions of the Divinity ; and the more sensually men do live, according to flesh and blood, the greater distance are they at from this mystical science.

Ordinarily it is seen that in the man who hath much scholastical and speculative knowledge Divine wisdom doth not predominate; yet they make an admirable composition when they both meet together. The men of learning, who by God’s mercy have attained to this mystic science, are worthy of veneration and praise in religion. The external actions of the mystical and wise, which they do rather passively than actively, though they are a great torment to them, yet are ordered prudently by them, by number, weight, | and measure. 3 The sermons of men of learning who want the spirit, though they are made up of divers stories, elegant descriptions, acute discourses, and — exquisite proofs, yet are by no means the word of God, but the word. of men, platted over with false gold. These preachers spoil Christians, feeding them with wind and vanity; and so they are, ~ both of them, void of God. i These teachers feed their hearers with the wind ‘ of hurtful subtleties, giving them stones instead of bread, leaves instead of fruit, and unsavoury earth mixed with poisoned honey instead of true food. These are they that hunt after honour, raising up an idol of reputation and applause, instead of seeking God’s glory and the spiritual edification of men.

Those that preach with zeal and sincerity preach for God ; those that preach without them preach for themselves. Those that preach the word of God with spirit make it take impression in the heart; but those that preach it without spirit carry it no farther than to the ear. Perfection doth not consist in teaching it, but in doing it; because he is neither the greatest saint nor the wisest man-that knows the pare most, but he that practises it. It is a constant maxim that Divine wisdom begets humility ; and that which is acquired Ms the learned begets pride. subtle conceits of the knowledge and attributes of God, but in the love of God and in self-denial. Therefore it is more frequently observed that holiness is more amongst the simple and humble than among the learned. How many poor old women are there ‘in the world who have little or nothing of human science, but are rich in the love of God ! How many divines do we see that are over head and ears in their vain wisdom, and yet very bare in things of true light and charity ! Remember that it is always good to speak like ~

one that learns, and not hkeone that knows. Count ita greater honour to be reputed a mere ignoramus than a man of wisdom and prudence. However, the learned, who are purely specula- _ tive, have some little sparks of spirit, yet thesedo not fly out from the simple bottom of eminent and Divine wisdom, which hath a mortal hatred to forms and species. The mixing of a little science is always a hindrance to the tenn profound, pure, simple, and true wisdom.

Treating of the same. fate are two ways which lead to the know- ledge of God, the one remote, the other near. The first is called speculation, the second contemplation. 'The learned, who follow scientifieal speculation by the sweetness of sensible discourses, get up to God by this means, as well as they can, that by this help they may be able to love Him ; but none of those who follow that way “— which they call scholastical ever arrives by that . } . 3 only to the mystical way, or to the excellence of union, transformation, simplicity, light, peace, tranquillity, and love, as he doth who is brought by the Divine grace, by the mystical way of contemplation. These men of learning, who are merely scholastical, don’t know what the spirit is, nor what it is to be lost in God ; nor are they come yet to the taste of the sweet ambrosia, which is in the inmost depth and bottom of the soul, where it keeps its throne, and communicates itself with incredible, intimate, and delicious affluence. Nay, some there are who do even condemn this mystical science, because they neither do understand nor relish ‘it.

The divine who doth not taste the sweetness of contemplation has no other reason to be given for it, but because he enters not by the gate which. St. Paul points to, when he says, Sz quis inter vos videtur sapiens esse, stultus fiat ut sit sapiens (1 Cor. ii. 18). If any one among you seem to himself to be wise, let him become a fool that he may be wise ; let him show his humility by reputing himself ignorant. It is a general rule, and also a maxim in mystic theology, that the practice ought to be gotten before the theory ; that there ought to be some experimental exercise of supernatural contempla- tion, before a search of the knowledge, and an inquiry after the full apprehension of it. = _ Although the mystical science does commonly belong to the humble and simple, yet, notwith- standing that, men of learning are not incapable . of it, if they do not seek themselves, nor set any great value upon their own artificial knowledge ; but more, if they can forget it, as if they never had it, and only make use of it in its own proper place and time, for preaching and disputing when their turn comes, and afterwards give their minds

to the simple and naked contemplation of God, without form, figure, or consideration. The study, which is not ordered for God’s glory only, is but a short way to hell ; not through the study, but the wind of pride, which begets it. Miserable is the greatest part of men at this time, — whose only study is to satisfy the unsatisfiable — BE Many seek God, and find Him not; because — they are more moved by curiosity than sincere, pure, and upright intention. They rather desire spiritual comforts than God Himself; and as they seek Him not with truth, they neither find God nor spiritual pleasures. He that does not endeavour the total denying of himself will not be truly abstracted, and so can never be capable of the truth and the light of rom ws oe Z ‘aed A ee — or w! the spirit. To go towards the mystical science, a — man must never meddle with things which are without but with prudence, and in that which his office calls him to. . Rare are the men who set a higher price upon hearing than speaking. But the wise and purely mystical man never speaks but when he cannot help it ; nor doth he concern himself in anything but what belongs to his office, and then he carries himself with great prudence.

The spirit of Divine wisdom fills men with sweetness, governs them with courage, and enlightens those with excellence who are subject to its direction. Where the Divine spirit dwells there is always simplicity and a holy liberty. But craft and double-mindedness, fiction, artifices, policy, and worldly respects are hell itself to wise and sincere men. Know that he who would attain to the mystical science must be denied and taken off from five things. First, From the creatures. Secondly, From temporal things. Thirdly, From the very gifts of the Holy Ghost. Fourthly, From himself. . Fifthly, He must be lost in God. This last is the completest of all; because that soul only that knows how to be so taken off is that which attains to being lost in God, and only knows where to be in safety. God is more satisfied with the affection of the © heart than that of worldly science. It is one a thing to cleanse the heart of all that which capti- vates and pollutes it, and another thing to doa , thousand things, though good and holy, without minding that purity of heart, which is the main — of all for attaining of Divine wisdom.

Never wilt thou get to this sovereign and Divine wisdom, if thou hast not strength, when God cleanseth thee in his own time, not only of thy adherences to temporal and natural blessings, but further, to supernatural and sublime ones, such as internal communications, ecstasies, rap- tures, and other gratuitous graces, whereon the soul rests and entertains itself. Many souls come short of arriving to quiet contemplation, to Divine wisdom, and true know- — ledge, notwithstanding that they spend many hours in prayer and receive the Sacrament every day ; because they do not subject and submit themselves wholly and entirely to Him that hath light, nor deny and conquer themselves, nor give up themselves totally to God, with a perfect — divesting and disinteresting of themselves; ina word, till the soul be purified in the fire of inward pain, it will never get to a state of renovation, of — transformation, of Pere contemplation, of Divine ; wisdom, and affective union.

Of true and perfect annihilation. HOU must know that all this fabric of annihilation hath its foundation but in two principles. The first is, To keep one’s self and all worldly things in a low esteem and value ; from whence the putting in practice of this self-divesting, and of self-renunciation, and forsaking all created things, must have its rise, and that with affection and in deed. The second principle must be a great esteem of God, to love, adore, and follow Him without the least interest of one’s own, let it be never so holy. From these two principles still arise a full conformity to the Divine will. This powerful and practical conformity to the Divine will in all things leads the soul to annihilation and transformation with God, without the mixture of raptures, or external ecstasies, or vehement affections. This way being liable to many illusions, with the danger of weakness, and anguish of the understanding, by which path there is seldom any that gets up to the top of perfection, which is acquired by the other safe, firm, and real way, though not without a weighty cross ; because therein the highway of annihilation and perfection is founded,

which is seconded by many gifts of light, and Divine effects, and infinite other graces, gratis date. Yet the soul that is annihilated must be unclothed of it all, if it would not have them be a hindrance to it in its way to deification. As the soul makes continual progress from its own meanness, it ought to walk on to the practice of annihilation, which consists in the abhorring honour, dignity, and praise, there being no reason that dignity and honour should be given to vileness and a mere nothingness. To the soul that is sensible of its own vileness, it appears an impossible thing to deserve anything; it is rather confounded, and knows itself unworthy of virtue and praise; it embraces with equal courage all occasions of contempt, persecution, infamy, shame, and affront, and as truly deserving — of such reproaches ; it renders the Lord thanks, when it lights upon such occasions, to be treated as it deserves ; and knows itself also unworthy that He should use His justice upon it ; but above all it is glad of contempt and affront, because its God gets great glory by it. ‘Such a soul as this always chooses the lowest, — the vilest, and the most despised degree, as well of place as of clothing, and of all other things, with- _ out the least affectation of singularity ; beingofthe ~ opinion that the greatest vileness is beyond its —

deserts, and acknowledging itself also unworthy even of this. This is the practice that brings the soul to a true annihilation of itself. _ The soul that would be perfect begins to mortify its passions ; and when it is advanced in that exercise, it denies itself; then, with the Divine aid, it passes to the state of nothingness, where it despises, abhors, and plunges itself upon the knowledge that it is nothing, that it can do nothing, and that itis worth nothing. From hence springs the dying in itself, and in its senses, in many ways, and at all hours ; and finally, from this spiritual death the true and perfect annihilation derives its original ; insomuch, that when the soul is once dead to its will and understanding, it is properly said to be arrived at the perfect and happy state of annihilation, which is the last disposition for transformation and union which the soul itself — doth not understand, because it would not be annihilated if it should come to know it. And although it do get to this happy state of annihilation, yet it must know that it must walk still on, and must be further and further purified and annihilated.

You must know that this annihilation, to make it perfect in the soul, must be in a man’s own judgment, in his will, in his works, inclinations, desires, thoughts, and in itself; so that the soul must find itself dead to its will, desire, endeavour, understanding, and thought ; willing, as if it did not will; desiring, as if it did not desire; understanding, as if it did not understand; thinking, as it it did not think, without inclining to anything ; embracing equally contempts and honours, benefits and corrections. Oh, what a happy soul is that which is thus dead and annihilated ! It lives no longer in itself ; because God lives init. And now it may most truly be said of it, that it is a renewed phaniz, because it is — changed, spiritualised, transformed, and deified.

In which is shown how this nothing is the ready way to obtain purity of soul, perfect contempla- — tion, and the rich treasure of peace internal. HE way to attain that high state of a mind ~ reformed, whereby a man immediately gets to the greatest good, to our first original, and to the highest peace, is his nothingness. Endeavour, O soul, to be always buried in that misery. This nothing, and this acknowledged misery, is the - means whereby the Lord works wonders in thy ¥ ‘soul. Clothe thyself with this nothing, and with this misery ; and see that this misery and this _ nothing be thy continual food and habitation, even to the casting down thyself low therein, and then I assure thee that thou being in that manner, the nothing, the Lord will be the whole in thy soul. Why, thinkest thou, do infinite souls hinder the abundant current of the Divine gifts? It is only because they would be doing something, and have a desire to be great ; all this is to come away from internal humility, and from their own nothing ; and therefore they prevent those wonders which that infinite goodness would work in them. They betake themselves to the very gifts of the spirit, and there they stick, that they may come out from the centre of nothing, and so the whole work is spoiled. They seek not God with truth, and therefore they find Him not; for know thou must that there is no finding of Him, but in the undervaluing of our ownselves and in nothing.

We seek ourselves every time we get out of our nothing ; and therefore we never get to quiet and perfect contemplation. Creep in, as far as ever thou canst, into the truth of thy nothing, and then nothing will disquiet thee; nay, thou wilt be humble and ashamed, losing openly thy own reputation and esteem. Oh, what a strong bulwark wilt thou find of that nothing ! Who can ever afflict thee if once thou dost retire into that fortress? Because the soul - which is despised by itself, and in its own know- ledge, is nothing, is not capable of receiving grievance or injury from anybody. The soul which keeps within its nothingness is internally silent, lives resigned in any torment whatsoever, by thinking it less than what it doth deserve ; it shuns the suspicion of a neighbour, never looks at other people’s faults, but its own ; is free from abundance of imperfections, and becomes commander of great virtue. Whilst the soul keeps still and quiet in its nothingness, it perfects it, it enriches — it, the Lord draws His Own image and likeness in it, without anything to hinder it. By the way of nothing thou must come to lose

thyself in God (which is the last degree of perfec- | tion) and happy wilt thou be if thou canst so lose thyself ; then wilt thou get thyself gain, and find thyself most certainly. In this same shop of nothing simplicity is made; interior and infused recollection is possessed, quiet is obtained, and the heart is cleansed from all manner of imperfec- — ‘ tion. Oh, what a treasure wilt thou find, ifthou shalt once fix thy habitation in nothing! Andif | thou once gettest but snug into the centre of nothing, thou wilt never concern thyself with _ i anything that is without (the great, ugly, large step that so many thousand souls do stumble at) unless it be as thy office may call thee to it. If thou dost but get shut up in nothing (where the blows of adversity can never come) nothing will vex thee or break thy peace. This is the _ way of getting to the command of thyself, because perfect and true dominion do only govern in nothing ; with the helmet of nothing thou wilt be too hard for strong temptations, and the terrible suggestions of the envious enemy. Knowing that thou art nothing, that thou canst do nothing, and art worth just nothing, thou wilt quietly embrace passive drynesses, thou wilt endure horrible desolations, thou wilt undergo spiritual martyrdoms and inward torments. By means of — this nothing thou must die in thyself, many ways, at all times and all hours.

Who must awaken the soul out of that sweet and pleasant sleep, if once it comes to take a nap in nothing? This is the way that David got to perfect annihilation without so much as knowing it: Ad nihilum redactus sum et niscwit (Psalm 17). Keeping thyself in nothing, thou wilt bar the door against everything that is not of God ; thou wilt retire also from thine ownself, and walk towards that internal solitude, where the Divine Spouse speaks in the heart of His Bride, teaching her high and Divine wisdom. Drown. Pee ts » re Te y. be at thyself in this nothing, and there shalt thou find a holy sanctuary against any tempest whatsoever. — By this way must thou return to the happy state — of innocency forfeited by our first parents, By — this gate thou must enter into the happy land of 4 the living, where thou wilt find the greatest good, 2 the breadth of charity, the beauty of righteous- — ness, the straight line of equity and justice, and, — in sum, every jot and tittle of perfection. Lastly, — do not look at nothing, desire nothing, will nothing, — nor endeavour nothing ; and then, in everything, — thy soul will live ee with quiet and enjoy: ment. “ This, this is the way to get purity of soul, per fect contemplation, and peace internal. Walk a therefore in this safe path, and endeavour to 3 overwhelm thyself in this nothing, endeavour to. lose thyself, to sink deep into it, if thou hast au mind to be annihilated, united, and transformed. 4

Of the high felicity of internal peace, and the wonder ful og of wt, ey er brings it to such a perfect union of love that it is joyful all over. And such a soul as this is already arrived to such a‘ happiness, that it neither wills nor desires anything but what its beloved wills ; it conforms itself to this will in all emergencies, as well in comfort as anguish, and rejoices also in everything to do the Divine good pleasure. There is nothing but what comforts it, nor doth it want anything but what it can well want. _ To die is enjoyment to it, and to live is its joy. It is as contented here upon earth as it can be in paradise ; it is as glad under privation as it can be in possession; in sickness as it can be in health; because it knows that this is the will of its Lord. This is its life, this its glory, its paradise, its peace, its repose, its rest, its consolation, and highest happiness. If it were necessary to such a soul as this, which is gotten up by the step of annihilation to the region of peace, to make its choice, it would

_ choose desolation before comfort, contempt be- fore honour, because the loving Jesus made great esteem of reproach and pain ; if it first endured the hunger of the blessings of heaven, if it thirsted for God, if it had the fear of losing Him, the lamentation of heart and the fighting of the devil: now things are altered, and hunger is turned into satisfying, the thirst into satiety, the fear into merriment, and the fierce fighting into f 4 - greatest peace. O happy soul, that enjoys here — . on earth so great a felicity! Thou must know & that these kind of souls (though few they are) be 4q the strong pillars which support the Church, and such as abate the Divine indignation. Be And now this soul that is entered into nen heaven of peace acknowledges itself full of God — and His supernatural gifts; because it lives grounded in a pure love, receiving equal pleasu : in light and darkness, in night and day, in affli tion and consolation. Through this holy as heavenly indifference it never loses its peace i adversity, nor its tranquillity in tribulation, bu ; as sees itself full of unspeakable enjoyments. a.

And although the prince of darkness makes a the assaults of hell against it, with horrible tem; tations, yet it makes head against them, am stands like a strong pillar ; no more happen to it by them than happens to a high mounta and a deep valley in the time of storm . tempest. The valley is darkened with thick clouds, fee vera of hail, thunder, lightning, and . continuing clear like heaven, immovable, and full of light. The same happens to this blessed soul; the valley of the part below is suffering tribulations, combats, darkness, desolations, torments, martyrdoms and suggestions ; and at the same time, on the lofty mountain of the higher part of the soul, the true sun casts its beams ; it enflames and enenlightens it, and so it becomes clear, peaceable, resplendent, quiet, serene, being a mere ocean of joy. So great therefore is the quiet of this pure soul, which is gotten up the mountain of tranquillity, so great is the peace of its spirit, so great the serenity and cheerfulness that is within, that a remnant and glimmering of God does redound even to the outside of it. Because in the throne of quiet are manifest the perfections of spiritual beauty ; here the true light of the secret and Divine mysteries of our holy faith, here perfect humility, even to the annihilation of itself, the amplest resignation, chastity, poverty of spirit, the sincerity and innocence of the dove, external modesty, silence, and internal solitude, liberty, and purity of heart; here the forgetfulness of every created thing, even of itself, _ joyful simplicity, heavenly indifference, continual

prayer, a total nakedness, perfect disinterestedness, ‘a most wise contemplation, a conversation of heaven ; and lastly, the most perfect and serene peace within, of which this happy soul may say what the wise man said of wisdom, that all other graces came alone in company with her: venerunt mihi omnia bona paritur cum alla (Wisd. vii. 11). This is the rich and hidden treasure ; this is the lost groat of the gospel; this is the blessed life, the happy life, the true life, and the blessedness here below. O thou lovely greatness, that passest the knowledge of the sons of men! O excellent supernatural life, how admirable and unspeakable art thou, for thou art the very | draught of blessedness ! Oh, how much dost thou raise a soul from earth, which loses in its view all things of the vileness of earth! Thou art poor to look upon, but inwardly thou art full of wealth ; thou seemest low, but art exceeding high; — in a word, thou art that which makest men hye a ~ life divine here below. Give me, O Lord, thou — Greatest Goodness, give me a good portion of this heavenly happiness and true peace, that the world, — sensual as it is, is neither capable of understanding t: nor receiving. Quem mundus non potest accipere.

A mournful exclamation and lamentable moan to God for the small company of souls that arrive at perfection, the loving union, and the Divine transformation. QO ‘DIVINE Majesty, in whose presence the pillars of heaven do quake and tremble! O thou Goodness, more than infinite, in whose love the seraphim burn! Give me leave, O Lord, to lament our blindness and ingratitude. Weall live in mistakes, seeking the foolish world, and forsaking Thee, who art our God: we all forsake Thee, the fountain of living waters, for the stinking dirt of the world. - O we children of men! how long shall we follow after lying and vanity? Who is it that. hath thus deceived us, that we should forsake God, our greatest good? Who is it that speaks the most truth tous? Who is it that loves us most? Who defends us most? Who is it that doth more to show Himself a friend? Who more tender to — show Himself a spouse, and more good to be a father; that our blindness should be so great, that we should all forsake this greatest and infinite goodness. O Dwine Lord, what he few souls are there in the world which do serve Thee with perfection! How — small is the number of those who are willing to — suffer that they may follow Christ crucified, that they — may embrace the cross, that they may deny and contemn themselves!

Oh, what a scarcity of souls are there which are disinterested and totally naked | How few are those souls which are dead to themselves and alive to God, which are totally resigned to His Dwine good pleasure! How few those who are adorned with simple obedience, profound knowledge of themselves, and true humility! How few those who, with an entire indifference, give up themselves into the hands of God, to do what He pleases with — them! How few are there of those pure souls which be of a simple and disinterested heart, and which, putting off their own understanding, knowledge, desire, and will, do long for self-denial and spirttual death! Oh, what a scarcity of souls 28 there which are willing to let the Dwine Creator work in — them a mind to suffer that they may not suffer, and to die that they may not die! How few are the souls which are willing to forget themselves, to free their hearts from their own affections, their own desires, their own satisfactions, their own love and judgments ! that are willing to be led by the highway of self-denial and the internal way ! that are willing to be annthilated, dying to themselves and their senses! that are willing to let themselves be

emptied, purified, and unclothed, that God may fill and clothe and perfect them! In a word, how _ small, O Lord, is the number of those souls which are blind, deaf, and dumb, and perfectly contemplative | . Oh, the shame of us, the children of Adam, who, _ for a thing of mere vileness, do despise true felicity and hinder our greatest good, the rich treasure, and infinite goodness! Great reason has Heaven to lament that there are so few souls to follow its precious pathway. Vise Sionis lugent, quod non sint qui veniant ad solemnitatem (Lam. i. 4). The Substance of several Letters sent from Italy concerning the Quietists. ‘te the year 1675, this book was first published, with five approbations before it. One was by the Archbishop of Rheggio ; another was by the General of the Franciscans, who was likewise one of the Qualificators of the Inquisition ; another was by Father Martin de Esparsa, a Jesuit, that had been Divinity-Professor both at Salamanca and at Rome, and was at that time a Qualificator of the Inquisition. As for the rest, I refer you to the book itself. The book was no sooner printed than it was much read, and highly esteemed, both

in Italy and Spain. It was considered as a book written with much clearness and great simplicity; and this so raised the reputation of the author that his acquaintance came to be generally much desired. Those who were in the greatest credit in Rome seemed to value themselves upon his friendship. Letters were written to him from all places; so that a correspondence was settled — between him and those who approved of his method in many different places of Europe. Some secular priests, both at Rome and Naples, declared themselves openly for it, and consulted him as a sort of an oracle upon many occasions. But those who joined themselves to him with the greatest heartiness and sincerity were some of the Fathers of the Oratory ; in particular, three of the most eminent of them, who were all advanced ~ at the last promotion of Cardinals, Coleredi, Giceri, but above all Petrucci, who was accounted his Timothy. Many of the Cardinals were also observed to court his acquaintance, and they thought it no small honour to be reckoned in the - number of Molinos’s friends. Such were Cassanta, Azolini, and Carpegna; but above all, Cardinal de Estrees. The last, you must needs know, is a man of great learning. He was ambi-

tious to be thought a reformer of some of those abuses which are among them, that are too gross to pass upon a man of his freedom of spirit, who had been bred up in the Sorbon, and had conversed much with Mr. de Launay. He therefore seemed the most zealous of all others to advance Molinos’s design ; so that he entered into a very elose commerce with him. ‘They were oft and long together ; and notwithstanding all the dis- trust that a Spaniard has naturally of a French- ~ man, and that all men have of one another, who have lived long at Rome, yet Molinos, who was sincere and plain-hearted, opened himself without reserve to the Cardinal ; and by his means a correspondence was settled between Molinos and some in France ; for though the spirits of those of that nation go generally too quick for a way of devotion that was settled and silent, yet some very strongly inclined to favour it even there. Perhaps it might be considered as a method more like to gain upon Protestants, and to facilitate the design of the reunion that was so long talked of there. All these things concurred to raise Molinos’s character, and to render his person considerable. When the Pope that now reigns was advanced to the throne, which was, you know, in the year 1676, he took most particular notice of him, and made it visibly apparent that even in all that exaltation he thought it might contribute to raise his character if he were considered as a

friend of Molinos’s and an encourager of his design ; for he lodged him in an apartment of the palace, and put many singular marks of his esteem on him. This made him become still the more conspicuous, when he had the advantage of favour joined to his qualities ; though he neither seemed to be fond of it, nor lifted up with it. His conversation was much desired ; and many priests came not only to form themselves according to his method, but to dispose all their penitents to follow it ; and it grew to be so much in vogue in Rome that all the nuns, except those who had Jesuits to their Confessors, began to lay aside their — rosaries and other devotions, and to give themselves much to the practice of mental prayer. This way had more credit given to it by the translation of a French book that was written upon the same subject, which Cardinal de Estrees ordered to be made. It was written in the form of a dialogue, and was printed in France in the year 1669, by the approbation of some doctors of the Sorbon. I am able to give no other account of the author but

that in the Italian translation he is called Francis Malevella, a blind clergyman. The book, being chiefly formed upon the model of St. Teresa, the translation of it was dedicated to the Discalcerate Carmelites of her order. This did not contribute a little for raising the credit of Molinos’s method, since it appeared to be approved both in Italy, France, and Spain. At the same time Father Petrucci wrote a great many letters and treatises relating to a contemplative state ; yet he mixed in many of them so many rules relating to the devotions of the choir that there was less occasion given for censure in his writings. They are a little too tedious; but they were written chiefly for nuns and others, who perhaps could not have apprehended his meaning aright if he had expressed himself in a closer style, and in fewer words. But the Jesuits and the Dominicans began to be alarmed at the progress of Quietism. They saw clearly that their trade was in a decay, and must decay still more and more, if some stop was not put to the progress of this new method. In order to this, it was necessary to decry the authors of it ; and because, of all the imputations in the world, heresy is that which makes the greatest impression at Rome, Molinos and his followers were given out to be heretics. It being also necessary -to fasten a particular name to every new heresy, they branded this with the name of Quietism. Books were also written by some Jesuits against Molinos and his method, in which there appeared much of that sourness and malignity that is thought to be peculiar to that society ; they were also written with their usual candourand sincerity.

One of the Fathers, Segueri, took a more dexterous — method to decry it. He began his book, magnifying the contemplative state highly as superior to all others, and blaming those who had said anything that seemed to detract from it; yet he corrected all this by saying, That very few were capable of it, and that none ought to pretend to tt but those who were called by God to so sublime a state. And by this he seemed only to censure the indiscretion of those spiritual guides, who .- proposed this way of devotion to all persons, without distinction. He also believed that such as were at some time called to it could not remain long in so high a state, to which God called men rather for some happy minutes than for a longer continuance; therefore he thought that such persons as were raised to it ought not to fancy that they were now got so far above all their former helps as never to need them any more ; so he proposed to them the accustoming themselves still to meditation, and to support themselves by that when they could not contemplate. - He censured severely some of Molinos’s expressions, such as that, He who had God had Christ,

as if this were an abandoning of Christ’s huma-_ nity. He also insisted much on that of a fixed looking on God, and the suspending of all the powers of the soul; but that on which he in- sisted most was, that Molinos (whom he never ~ named, though he cited his words, and described him very plainly) made the quiet of contemplation to be a state to which a man could raise - himself: whereas he maintains, that in the quiet the soul is passive, and, as it were, in a rapture ; and that she could not raise herself to it, but that it was an immediate and extraordinary favour, which was only to be expected from God, and which an humble mind could not so much as ask of Him. These disputes raised so much noise in Rome that the Inquisition took notice of the whole matter. Molinos and his book, and Father Petrucci’s treatises and letters, were brought under a second and severe examination; and here the Jesuits were considered as the accusers. It is true one of the Society, as was formerly told, had approved Molinos’s book ; but they took care that he should be no more seen at Rome; for he was sent away, and it is not known whither. It is generally believed that he is shut up within four walls; but what truth soever may be in that, he is no more visible, so careful are they to have all their Order speak the’same language ; and if any speak in a different style from the rest, they at least take care that he shall speak no more; yet in this examination that was made

both Molinos and Petrucci justified themselves so — well, that their books were again approved, and the answer which the Jesuits had written was censured as scandalous. And in this matter Petrucci behaved himself so signally well that it raised not only the credit of the cause but his own reputation so much that soon after he was made Bishop of Jessi, which was a new declara-— tion that the Pope made in their favours. Their books were now more esteemed than ever, their method was more followed ; and the novelty of it, the opposition made to it by a Society that has rendered itself odious to all the world, and the new approbation that was given to it after so vigorous an accusation, did all contribute to raise the credit and to increase the numbers of the party. Father Petrucci’s behaviour in his Bishopric contributed to raise his reputation still higher, so that his enemies were willing to. give him no more disturbance. In short, everybody that was thought either sincerely devout, or that at least affected the reputation of it, came to be reckoned among the Quietists ; of which people it is said there was — twenty thousand in the City of Naples, and a great number in Rome; and if these persons were observed to become more strict in their lives, more retired and serious in their mental

devotious, yet there appeared less zeal in their whole deportment, as to the exterior parts of the religion of that Church. They were not so assiduous at Mass nor so earnest to procure Masses to be said for their friends; nor were they so frequently either at Confessions or at Processions ; so that the trade of those who live by these things was sensibly sunk. And though the new approbation that was given to Molinos’s book by the Inquisition stopped the mouths of his enemies, so that they could no more complain of it, yet they did not cease to scatter about surmises of all that sort of men, insinuating that they had ill designs and profound secrets amongst them; that these were, in their hearts, enemies to the true Christian Religion ; and that under a pretence of raising men to a most sublime strain of devotion, they intended to wear out of their minds the sense of the Death and Sacrifice of Christ, and of the other mysteries of Christianity, &c. Whereupon Molinos was clapped up by the Inquisition in May, 1685, and so an end was put to all discourses relating to him; and in this silence the business of the Quietists was laid to sleep till the 9th of February, 1689, then of a sudden it broke out again in a much more surprising manner,

154 The Count Vespiniani and his lady, Don Paulo Rocchi, Confessor to the Prince Borghese, and some of his family, with several others, in all seventy persons, were clapped up; among whom many were highly esteemed both for their learning and piety. The things laid to the charge of the Churchmen were their neglecting to say their Breviary; and for the rest, they were ~ accused for their going to Communion without going at every time first to Confession. And in a word, it was said, that they neglected all the exterior parts of their religion, and gave themselves up wholly to solitude and inward prayer. The Countess Vespiniani made a great noise of this matter ; for she said she had never revealed _ her method of devotion to any mortal, but to her confessor ; and so it was not possible that it could come to their knowledge any other way, but by his betraying that secret. And she said it was time for people to give over going to Con- fession if priests made this use of it, to discover those who trusted their most secret thoughts to them. And therefore she said that in all time coming she would make her confessions only to

God. This had got vent, and I heard it generally — talked of up and down Rome. So the Inquisitors thought it more fitting to dismiss her and her husband than to give any occasion to lessen the " credit of confession ; they were therefore let out of prison, but they were bound to appear when- -soever they should be called upon. I cannot express to you the consternation that appeared both in Rome and many other parts of Italy, when in a month’s time about two hundred persons were put in the Inquisition ; and that all of a sudden a method of devotion that had passed up -and down Italy for the highest elevation to which mortals could aspire, was found to be heretical, and that the chief promoters of it were shut up in prison. But the most surprising part of the whole story was that the Pope himself came to be suspected as a favourer of this new heresy. So that on the 13th of February some were deputed by the Court of the Inquisition to examine him, not in the quality of Christ’s Vicar or St. Peter’s successor, but in the single quality of Benedict Odeschalchi. What passed in that audience was too great a secret for me to be able to penetrate into it. Two days after that the Inquisition sent a circular letter to Cardinal Cibo, as the chief minister, to be sent by him all about Italy; it was addressed to all Prelates, and it warns them that whereas many schools and fraternities were formed in several parts of Italy in which some persons, under a pretence of leading people in

the ways of the Spirit and to the prayer of quietness, they instilled in them many abominable — _ heresies. Therefore a strict charge was given to dissolve all these societies, and to oblige all the spiritual guides to tread in the known paths; and, in particular, to take care that none of that sort should be suffered to have the direction of the nunneries. Order was likewise given to proceed in the way of justice against those who should be found guilty of these abominable errors. After this a strict enquiry was made into all the nunneries of Rome, for most of their directors and confessors were found to be en - engaged in this new method. It was found that the Carmelites, the Nuns of the Conception, of the Palestrina and Albono, were wholly given up to prayer and contemplation ; and that instead of their beads and their hours and the other devotions to saints or images, they were much alone and oft in the exercise of mental prayer. And when they were asked why they had laid aside the use of their beads and their ancient forms, their answer was that their directors had advised them to wean themselves from these things, as being but rude beginnings and hindrances to their further progress. They justified also their practice from those books that had been lately published by the approbation of the

Inquisitors themselves, such as Molinos’s and _ Petrucci’s books. When report was made of this . matter to the Inquisition they sent orders to take . - out of the nuns’ hands all those books and such forms of devotion as were written in that strain ;— and they required them to return -again to the use of their beads and their other abandoned forms, which was no small mortification to-them. ~ The circular letter produced no great effects, for most of the Italian bishops were either extremely unconcerned in all those matters or were inclined to Molinos’s method. And whereas it was intended that this, as well as all the other orders that came from the Inquisition, should be kept secret, yet it went abroad, and copies of it were in all people’s hands; so that this gave the Romans the more occasion to discourse of these matters, which troubled the Inquisitors extremely, who love not to have the world look into their proceedings nor to descant upon them. I am told that men are now more puzzled in their thoughts with relation to the business of Molinos than ever. It was visible that his abjuration was only a pretended thing; for in effect he has abjured nothing ; his party believes that they are very numerous not only in Rome, Italy, Spain, . France, and in all these parts of the world, but that they have many followers even in America

itself; one sees them now in almost all the churches in Rome, some of them praying in ~ corners with their hands and eyes lifted up to — heaven, and all in tears and sighs, which was no small trouble to those who thought they had — quite routed them; but finding they were not — so much quashed as ite was thought they would — have been, by the mock triumph that was made — upon Molinos (nor did they believe a word of those reports that were spread of his lewdness). They said there was no proof ever brought of it ; and that there are many thousands in Rome of both sexes that conversed much with him, that. say these stories that were given out concerning him are impudent calumnies, set only to blast him and his doctrine ; and the truth is this seems much to be confirmed by the Bull that condemns his books and his doctrine, in which no mention is made of his ill life and hypocrisy, which had been very probably done if the matter had been well proved; since this would not only have satisfied people, but would have very much confirmed the accusations of those horrid opinions

that are laid to his charge, which had appeared with much evidence, if it had been found that his life had agreed with those tenets ; for though it had been a just inference to conclude him ~ guilty of those things, because they were charged