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ASCENT OF MOUNT CARMEL

Ascent of Mount Carmel
by Saint John of the Cross
DOCTOR OF THE CHURCH

THIRD REVISED EDITION

Translated and edited, with an Introduction,
by E. ALLISON PEERS

from the critical edition of
P. SILVERIO DE SANTA TERESA, C.D.

NIHIL OBSTAT: CEORGIVS SMITH, S.T.D., PH.D.

CENSOR DEPVTATVS

IMPRIMATVR: E. MORROGH BERNARD

VICARIVS GENERALIS

WESTMONASTERII: DIE XXIV SEPTEMBRIS MCMLII

TO THE
DISCALCED CARMELITES OF CASTILE,

WITH ABIDING MEMORIES OF THEIR HOSPITALITY AND KINDNESS
IN MADRID, ÃVILA AND BURGOS,
BUT ABOVE ALL OF THEIR DEVOTION TO
SAINT JOHN OF THE CROSS,
I DEDICATE THIS TRANSLATION

Mount Carmel
the greatest of all mystical theologians

Thus has Thomas Merton described St. John of the Cross, echoing the
considered judgment of most authorities on the spiritual life; and here in
this volume is the great mysticâ€™s most widely appealing work. Ascent of
Mount Carmel is an incomparable guide to the spiritual life â€” because its
author has lived his own counsel. Addressed to informed Christians who
aspire to grow in union with God, it examines every category of spiritual
experience, the spurious as well as the authentic. With rare insight into
human psychology it not only tells how to become more closely united with
God, but spells out in vivid detail the pitfalls to avoid.

In his Apostolic Letter proclaiming St. John of the Cross a Doctor of the
Church, Pope Pius XI wrote that he â€œpoints out to souls the way of
perfection as though illumined by light from on high, in his limpidly clear
analysis of mystical experience. And although [his works] deal with
difficult and hidden matters, they are nevertheless replete with such lofty
spiritual doctrine and are so well adapted to the understanding of those who
study them that they can rightly be called a guide and handbook for the man
of faith who proposes to embrace a life of perfection.

This translation by E. Allison Peers was hailed by the London Times as â€œthe
most faithful that has appeared in any European language.

St. John of the Cross was perhaps the greatest mystical writer the world has
ever known. Bossuets famous tribute that his writings€œpossess the same
authority in mystical theology as the writings of St. Thomas possess in
dogmatic theology remains the most fitting testimonial to his august
place among spiritual writers.

John was born in Castile in 1542 eve of Spains century of greatness, to
which he himself was to add such lustre. He studied under the Jesuits and
worked for six years in a hospital. Entering the Carmelites in 1563, he was
professed a year later and sent to the great University of Salamanca. He was
ordained in 1567 but, shrinking from the apostolate of a priest in the
world, considered entering the Carthusians, a hermitical order.

Then came the turning point in his life. He met St. Teresa of Ãvila, who was
pursuing her epic work of restoring the pristine, stricter observance of the
Carmelite rule. John and two other members of the order took the vows of the
Discalced (or reformed) Carmelites the following year, binding themselves to
a more rigorous way of life which included daily (and nightly) recitation of
the Divine Office in choir, perpetual abstinence from meat, and additional
fasting.

Yet his religious vows were but a part of the rigors John was to undergo.
The main branch of the order, the Calced Carmelites, so opposed the Reform
that they twice had John kidnapped and jailed providentially, so it
proved, for much of his writing was done in prison.

The greater part of his twenty-three years as a Discalced Carmelite,
however, was spent in filling a number of important posts in the order,
among them Rector of two colleges, Prior, Definator, and Vicar-Provincial.
But it was in one of his lesser offices that he was to spend the most
decisive years of his life: he was confessor to the Carmelite nuns at Ãvila,
where St. Teresa was Superior.

The secret of St. Johns unique contribution to mystical theology was not
simply his mysticism, for there have been other mystics; not even his
profound grasp of Scripture, dogma, Thomism, and spiritual literature, for
there have also been learned mystics. What sets him apart is his
extraordinary poetic vision. To write of mystical experience is to try to
express the inexpressible. Because he was a great poet St. John of the Cross
was able, in the realm of mysticism, to push the frontiers of human
expression beyond where any writer has succeeded in venturing before or
since. This poetic intensity is found even in his prose, the major works of
which are Ascent of Mount Carmel, Dark Night of the Soul, Spiritual
Canticle, and Living Flame of Love.

St. John of the Cross died in 1591, was beatified less than a century later
in 1675, was canonized in 1726, and was named a Doctor of the Church by Pope
Pius XI in 1926.

TRANSLATORS PREFACE
TO THE FIRST EDITION

FOR at least twenty years, a new translation of the works of St. John of the
Cross has been an urgent necessity. The translations of the individual prose
works now in general use go back in their original form to the
eighteen-sixties, and, though the later editions of some of them have been
submitted to a certain degree of revision, nothing but a complete
retranslation of the works from their original Spanish could be
satisfactory. For this there are two reasons.

First, the existing translations were never very exact renderings of the
original Spanish text even in the form which held the field when they were
first published. Their great merit was extreme readableness: many a disciple
of the Spanish mystics, who is unacquainted with the language in which they
wrote, owes to these translations the comparative ease with which he has
mastered the main lines of St. John of the Crosss teaching. Thus for the
general reader they were of great utility; for the student, on the other
hand, they have never been entirely adequate. They paraphrase difficult
expressions, omit or add to parts of individual sentences in order (as it
seems) to facilitate comprehension of the general drift of the passages in
which these occur, and frequently retranslate from the Vulgate the Saints
Spanish quotations from Holy Scripture instead of turning into English the
quotations themselves, using the text actually before them.

A second and more important reason for a new translation, however, is the
discovery of fresh manuscripts and the consequent improvements which have
been made in the Spanish text of the works of St. John of the Cross, during
the present century. Seventy years ago, the text chiefly used was that of
the collection known as the Biblioteca de Autores EspaÃ±oles (1853), which
itself was based, as we shall later see, upon an edition going back as far
as 1703, published before modern methods of editing were so much as
imagined. Both the text of the B.A.E. edition and the unimportant commentary
which accompanied it were highly unsatisfactory, yet until the beginning of
the present century nothing appreciably better was attempted.

In the last twenty years, however, we have had two new editions, each based
upon a close study of the extant manuscripts and each representing a great
advance upon the editions preceding it. The three-volume Toledo edition of
P. Gerardo de San Juan de la Cruz, C.D. (1912“14), was the first attempt
made to produce an accurate text by modern critical methods. Its execution
was perhaps less laudable than its conception, and faults were pointed out
in it from the time of its appearance, but it served as a new starting-point
for Spanish scholars and stimulated them to a new interest in St. John of
the Crosss writings. Then, seventeen years later, came the magnificent
five-volume edition of P. Silverio de Santa Teresa, C.D. (Burgos, 1929-31),
which forms the basis of this present translation. So superior is it, even
on the most casual examination, to all its predecessors that to eulogize it
in detail is superfluous. It is founded upon a larger number of texts than
has previously been known and it collates them with greater skill than that
of any earlier editor. It can hardly fail to be the standard edition of the
works of St. John of the Cross for generations.

Thanks to the labours of these Carmelite scholars and of others whose
findings they have incorporated in their editions, Spanish students can now
approach the work of the great Doctor with the reasonable belief that they
are reading, as nearly as may be, what he actually wrote. English-reading
students, however, who are unable to master sixteenth-century Spanish, have
hitherto had no grounds for such a belief. They cannot tell whether, in any
particular passage, they are face to face with the Saints own words, with a
translators free paraphrase of them or with a gloss made by some later
copyist or early editor in the supposed interests of orthodoxy. Indeed, they
cannot be sure that some whole paragraph is not one of the numerous
interpolations which has its rise in an early printed edition i.e., the
timorous qualifications of statements which have seemed to the interpolator
over-bold. Even some of the most distinguished writers in English on St.
John of the Cross have been misled in this way and it has been impossible
for any but those who read Spanish with ease to make a systematic and
reliable study of such an important question as the alleged dependence of
Spanish quietists upon the Saint, while his teaching on the mystical life
has quite unwittingly been distorted by persons who would least wish to
misrepresent it in any particular.

It was when writing the chapter on St. John of the Cross in the first volume
of my Studies of the Spanish Mystics (in which, as it was published in 1927,
I had not the advantage of using P. Silverios edition) that I first
realized the extent of the harm caused by the lack of an accurate and modern
translation. Making my own versions of all the passages quoted, I had
sometimes occasion to compare them with those of other translators, which at
their worst were almost unrecognizable as versions of the same originals.
Then and there I resolved that, when time allowed, I would make a fresh
translation of the works of a saint to whom I have long had great devotion
to whom, indeed, I owe more than to any other writer outside the
Scriptures. Just at that time I happened to visit the Discalced Carmelites
at Burgos, where I first met P. Silverio, and found, to my gratification,
that his edition of St. John of the Cross was much nearer publication than I
had imagined. Arrangements for sole permission to translate the new edition
were quickly made and work on the early volumes was begun even before the
last volume was published.

II

These preliminary notes will explain why my chief preoccupation throughout
the performance of this task has been to present as accurate and reliable a
version of St. John of the Crosss works as it is possible to obtain. To
keep the translation, line by line, au pied de la lettre, is, of course,
impracticable: and such constantly occurring Spanish habits as the use of
abstract nouns in the plural and the verbal construction˜ir + present
participle introduce shades of meaning which cannot always be reproduced.
Yet wherever, for stylistic or other reasons, I have departed from the
Spanish in any way that could conceivably cause a misunderstanding, I have
scrupulously indicated this in a footnote. Further, I have translated, not
only the text, but the variant readings as given by P. Silverio, [1] except
where they are due merely to slips of the copyists pen or where they differ
so slightly from the readings of the text that it is impossible to render
the differences in English. I beg students not to think that some of the
smaller changes noted are of no importance; closer examination will often
show that, however slight they may seem, they are, in relation to their
context, or to some particular aspect of the Saints teaching, of real
interest; in other places they help to give the reader an idea, which may be
useful to him in some crucial passage, of the general characteristics of the
manuscript or edition in question. The editors notes on the manuscripts and
early editions which he has collated will also be found, for the same
reason, to be summarized in the introduction to each work; in consulting the
variants, the English-reading student has the maximum aid to a judgment of
the reliability of his authorities.

Concentration upon the aim of obtaining the most precise possible rendering
of the text has led me to sacrifice stylistic elegance to exactness where
the two have been in conflict; it has sometimes been difficult to bring
oneself to reproduce the Saints often ungainly, though often forceful,
repetitions of words or his long, cumbrous parentheses, but the temptation
to take refuge in graceful paraphrases has been steadily resisted. In the
same interest, and also in that of space, I have made certain omissions
from, and abbreviations of, other parts of the edition than the text. Two of
P. Silverios five volumes are entirely filled with commentaries and
documents. I have selected from the documents those of outstanding interest
to readers with no detailed knowledge of Spanish religious history and have
been content to summarize the editors introductions to the individual
works, as well as his longer footnotes to the text, and to omit such parts
as would interest only specialists, who are able, or at least should be
obliged, to study them in the original Spanish.

The decision to summarize in these places has been made the less reluctantly
because of the frequent unsuitability of P. Silverios style to English
readers. Like that of many Spaniards, it is so discursive, and at times so
baroque in its wealth of epithet and its profusion of imagery, that a
literal translation, for many pages together, would seldom have been
acceptable. The same criticism would have been applicable to any literal
translation of P. Silverios biography of St. John of the Cross which stands
at the head of his edition (Vol. I, pp. 7-130). There was a further reason
for omitting these biographical chapters. The long and fully documented
biography by the French Carmelite, P. Bruno de JÃ©sus-Marie, C.D., written
from the same standpoint as P. Silverios, has recently been translated into
English, and any attempt to rival this in so short a space would be
foredoomed to failure. I have thought, however, that a brief outline of the
principal events in St. John of the Crosss life would be a useful
preliminary to this edition; this has therefore been substituted for the
biographical sketch referred to.

In language, I have tried to reproduce the atmosphere of a sixteenth-century
text as far as is consistent with clarity. Though following the paragraph
divisions of my original, I have not scrupled, where this has seemed to
facilitate understanding, to divide into shorter sentences the long and
sometimes straggling periods in which the Saint so frequently indulged. Some
attempt has been made to show the contrast between the highly adorned,
poetical language of much of the commentary on the˜Spiritual Canticle and
the more closely shorn and eminently practical, though always somewhat
discursive style of the Ascent and Dark Night. That the Living Flame
occupies an intermediate position in this respect should also be clear from
the style of the translation.

Quotations, whether from the Scriptures or from other sources, have been
left strictly as St. John of the Cross made them. Where he quotes in Latin,
the Latin has been reproduced; only his quotations in Spanish have been
turned into English. The footnote references are to the Vulgate, of which
the Douai Version is a direct translation; if the Authorized Version
differs, as in the Psalms, the variation has been shown in square brackets
for the convenience of those who use it.

A word may not be out of place regarding the translations of the poems as
they appear in the prose commentaries. Obviously, it would have been
impossible to use the comparatively free verse renderings which appear in
Volume II of this translation, since the commentaries discuss each line and
often each word of the poems. A literal version of the poems in their
original verse-lines, however, struck me as being inartistic, if not
repellent, and as inviting continual comparison with the more polished verse
renderings which, in spirit, come far nearer to the poets aim. My first
intention was to translate the poems, for the purpose of the commentaries,
into prose. But later I hit upon the long and metrically unfettered
verse-line, suggestive of Biblical poetry in its English dress, which I have
employed throughout. I believe that, although the renderings often suffer
artistically from their necessary literalness, they are from the artistic
standpoint at least tolerable.

III

The debts I have to acknowledge, though few, are very large ones. My
gratitude to P. Silverio de Santa Teresa for telling me so much about his
edition before its publication, granting my publishers the sole translation
rights and discussing with me a number of crucial passages cannot be
disjoined from the many kindnesses I have received during my work on the
Spanish mystics, which is still proceeding, from himself and from his
fellow-Carmelites in the province of Castile. In dedicating this translation
to them, I think particularly of P. Silverio in Burgos, of P. Florencio del
Ni“o JesÃºs in Madrid, and of P. CrisÃ³gono de JesÃºs Sacramentado, together
with the Fathers of the˜Convento de la Santa in vila.

The long and weary process of revising the manuscript and proofs of this
translation has been greatly lightened by the co-operation and companionship
of P. Edmund Gurdon, Prior of the Cartuja de Miraflores, near Burgos, with
whom I have freely discussed all kinds of difficulties, both of substance
and style, and who has been good enough to read part of my proofs. From the
quiet library of his monastery, as well as from his gracious companionship,
I have drawn not only knowledge, but strength, patience and perseverance.
And when at length, after each of my visits, we have had to part, we have
continued our labours by correspondence, shaking hands, as it were,˜over a
vast and embracing˜from the ends of opposd winds.

Finally, I owe a real debt to my publishers for allowing me to do this work
without imposing any such limitations of time as often accompany literary
undertakings. This and other considerations which I have received from them
have made that part of the work which has been done outside the study
unusually pleasant and I am correspondingly grateful.

E. ALLISON PEERS.

University of Liverpool.

Feast of St. John of the Cross,

November 24, 1933.

Note. Wherever a commentary by St. John of the Cross is referred to, its
title is given in italics (e.g. Spiritual Canticle); where the corresponding
poem is meant, it is placed between quotation marks (e.g.˜Spiritual
Canticle). The abbreviation˜e.p. stands for editio princeps throughout.
_________________________________________________________________

[1] The footnotes are P. Silverio's except where they are enclosed in square
brackets.
_________________________________________________________________

TRANSLATORS PREFACE
TO THE SECOND EDITION

DURING the sixteen years which have elapsed since the publication of the
first edition, several reprints have been issued, and the demand is now such
as to justify a complete resetting. I have taken advantage of this
opportunity to revise the text throughout, and hope that in some of the more
difficult passages I may have come nearer than before to the Saints mind.
Recent researches have necessitated a considerable amplification of
introductions and footnotes and greatly increased the length of the
bibliography.

The only modification which has been made consistently throughout the three
volumes relates to St. John of the Crosss quotations from Scripture. In
translating these I still follow him exactly, even where he himself is
inexact, but I have used the Douia Version (instead of the Authorized, as in
the first edition) as a basis for all Scriptural quotations, as well as in
the footnote references and the Scriptural index in Vol. III.

Far more is now known of the life and times of St. John of the Cross than
when this translation of the Complete Works was first published, thanks
principally to the Historia del Carmen Descalzo of P. Silverio de Santa
Teresa, C.D, now General of his Order, and to the admirably documented Life
of the Saint written by P. CrisÃ³gono de Jesus Sacramentado, C.D., and
published (in Vida y Obras de San Juan de la Cruz) in the year after his
untimely death. This increased knowledge is reflected in many additional
notes, and also in the˜Outline of the Life of St. John of the Cross (Vol.
I, pp. xxv“xxviii), which, for this edition, has been entirely recast.
References are given to my Handbook to the Life and Times of St. Teresa and
St. John of the Cross, which provides much background too full to be
reproduced in footnotes and too complicated to be compressed. The Handbook
also contains numerous references to contemporary events, omitted from the
˜Outline as being too remote from the main theme to justify inclusion in a
summary necessarily so condensed.

My thanks for help in revision are due to kindly correspondents, too
numerous to name, from many parts of the world, who have made suggestions
for the improvement of the first edition; to the Rev. Professor David
Knowles, of Cambridge University, for whose continuous practical interest in
this translation I cannot be too grateful; to Miss I.L. McClelland, of
Glasgow University, who has read a large part of this edition in proof; to
Dom Philippe Chevallier, for material which I have been able to incorporate
in it; to P. JosÃ© Antonio de Sobrino, S.J., for allowing me to quote freely
from his recently published Estudios; and, most of all, to M.R.P. Silverio
de Santa Teresa, C.D., and the Fathers of the International Carmelite
College at Rome, whose learning and experience, are, I hope, faintly
reflected in this new edition.

E.A.P.

June 30, 1941.
_________________________________________________________________

PRINCIPAL ABBREVIATIONS

A.V.Authorized Version of the Bible (1611).

D.V.Douai Version of the Bible (1609).

C.W.S.T.J.The Complete Works of Saint Teresa of Jesus, translated and
edited by E. Allison Peers from the critical edition of P. Silverio de Santa
Teresa, C.D. London, Sheed and Ward, 1946. 3 vols.

H.-E. Allison Peers: Handbook to the Life and Times of St. Teresa and St.
John of the Cross. London, Burns Oates and Washbourne, 1953.

LL.The Letters of Saint Teresa of Jesus, translated and edited by E.
Allison Peers from the critical edition of P. Silverio de Santa Teresa, C.D.
London, Burns Oates and Washburne, 1951. 2 vols.

N.L.M.National Library of Spain (Biblioteca Nacional), Madrid.

Obras (P. Silv.)Obras de San Juan de la Cruz, Doctor de la Iglesia,
editadas y anotadas pot el P. Silverio de Santa Teresa, C.D. Burgos,
1929-31. 5 vols.

S.S.M.E. Allison Peers: Studies of the Spanish Mystics. Vol. I, London,
Sheldon Press, 1927; 2nd ed., London, S.P.C.K., 1951. Vol. II, London,
Sheldon Press, 1930.

Sobrino.-JosÃ© Antonio de Sobrino, S.J.: Estudios sobre San Juan de la Cruz y
nuevos textos de su obra. Madrid, 1950.
_________________________________________________________________

AN OUTLINE OF THE LIFE OF ST. JOHN OF THE CROSS [2]

1542. Birth of Juan de Yepes at Fontiveros (Hontiveros), near vila.

The day generally ascribed to this event is June 24 (St. John Baptists
Day). No documentary evidence for it, however, exists, the parish registers
having been destroyed by a fire in 1544. The chief evidence is an
inscription, dated 1689, on the font of the parish church at Fontiveros.

? c. 1543. Death of Juans father.˜After some years the mother removes,
with her family, to ArÃ©valo, and later to Medina del Campo.

? c. 1552-6. Juan goes to school at the Colegio de los Ni“os de la Doctrina,
Medina.

c. 1556-7. Don Antonio lvarez de Toledo takes him into a Hospital to which
he has retired, with the idea of his (Juans) training for Holy Orders under
his patronage.

? c. 1559-63. Juan attends the College of the Society of Jesus at Medina.

c. 1562. Leaves the Hospital and the patronage of lvarez de Toledo.

1563. Takes the Carmelite habit at St. Annes, Medina del Campo, as Juan de
San MatÃas (Santo MatÃa).

The day is frequently assumed (without any foundation) to have been the
feast of St. Matthias (February 24), but P. Silverio postulates a day in
August or September and P. CrisÃ³gono thinks February definitely improbable.

1564. Makes his profession in the same priory probably in August or
September and certainly not earlier than May 21 and not later than October.

1564 (November). Enters the University of Salamanca as an artista. Takes a
three-year course in Arts (1564-7).

1565 (January 6). Matriculates at the University of Salamanca.

1567. Receives priests orders (probably in the summer).

1567 (? September). Meets St. Teresa at Medina del Campo. Juan is thinking
of transferring to the Carthusian Order. St. Teresa asks him to join her
Discalced Reform and the projected first foundation for friars. He agrees to
do so, provided the foundation is soon made.

1567 (November). Returns to the University of Salamanca, where he takes a
years course in theology.

1568. Spends part of the Long Vacation at Medina del Campo. On August 10,
accompanies St. Teresa to Valladolid. In September, returns to Medina and
later goes to Avila and Duruelo.

1568 (November 28). Takes the vows of the Reform Duruelo as St. John of the
Cross, together with Antonio de Heredia (Antonio de Jesus), Prior of the
Calced Carmelites at Medina, and JosÃ© de Cristo, another Carmelite from
Medina.

1570 (June 11). Moves, with the Duruelo community, to Mancera de Abajo.

1570 (October, or possibly February 1571). Stays for about a month at
Pastrana, returning thence to Mancera.

1571 (? January 25). Visits Alba de Tormes for the inauguration of a new
convent there.

1571 (? April). Goes to AlcalÃ¡ de Henares as Rector of the College of the
Reform and directs the Carmelite nuns.

1572 (shortly after April 23). Recalled to Pastrana to correct the rigours
of the new novice-master, Angel de San Gabriel.

1572 (between May and September). Goes to vila as confessor to the Convent
of the Incarnation. Remains there till 1577.

1574 (March). Accompanies St. Teresa from vila to Segovia, arriving on March
18. Returns to vila about the end of the month.

1575-6 (Winter of: before February 1576). Kidnapped by the Calced and
imprisoned at Medina del Campo. Freed by the intervention of the Papal
Nuncio, Ormaneto.

1577 (December 2 or 3). Kidnapped by the Calced and carried off to the
Calced Carmelite priory at Toledo as a prisoner.

1577-8. Composes in prison 17 (or perhaps 30) stanzas of the˜Spiritual
Canticle (i.e., as far as the stanza:˜Daughters of Jewry); the poem with
the refrain˜Although˜tis night; and the stanzas beginning˜In principio
erat verbum. He may also have composed the paraphrase of the psalm Super
flumina and the poem˜Dark Night. (Note: All these poems, in verse form,
will be found in Vol. II of this edition.)

1578 (August 16 or shortly afterwards). Escapes to the convent of the
Carmelite nuns in Toledo, and is thence taken to his house by D. Pedro
GonzÃ¡lez de Mendoza, Canon of Toledo.

1578 (October 9). Attends a meeting of the Discalced superiors at AlmodÃ³var.
Is sent to El Calvario as Vicar, in the absence in Rome of the Prior.

1578 (end of October). Stays for˜a few days at Beas de Segura, near El
Calvario. Confesses the nuns at the Carmelite Convent of Beas.

1578 (November). Arrives at El Calvario.

1578-9 (November-June). Remains at El Calvario as Vicar. For a part of this
time (probably from the beginning of 1579), goes weekly to the convent of
Beas to hear confessions. During this period, begins his commentaries
entitled The Ascent of Mount Carmel (cf. pp. 9-314, below) and Spiritual
Canticle (translated in Vol. II).

1579 (June 14). Founds a college of the Reform at Baeza. 1579-82. Resides at
Baeza as Rector of the Carmelite college. Visits the Beas convent
occasionally. Writes more of the prose works begun at El Calvario and the
rest of the stanzas of the˜Spiritual Canticle except the last five,
possibly with the commentaries to the stanzas.

1580. Death of his mother.

1581 (March 3). Attends the AlcalÃ¡ Chapter of the Reform. Appointed Third
Definitor and Prior of the Granada house of Los MÃ¡rtires. Takes up the
latter office only on or about the time of his election by the community in
March 1582.

1581 (November 28). Last meeting with St. Teresa, at vila. On the next day,
sets out with two nuns for Beas (December 8“January 15) and Granada.

1582 (January 20). Arrives at Los MÃ¡rtires.

1582-8. Mainly at Granada. Re-elected (or confirmed) as Prior of Los
MÃ¡rtires by the Chapter of AlmodÃ³var, 1583. Resides at Los MÃ¡rtires more or
less continuously till 1584 and intermittently afterwards. Visits the Beas
convent occasionally. Writes the last five stanzas of the˜Spiritual
Canticle during one of these visits. At Los MÃ¡rtires, finishes the Ascent
of Mount Carmel and composes his remaining prose treatises. Writes Living
Flame of Love about 1585, in fifteen days, at the request of DoÃ±a Ana de
PeÃ±alosa.

1585 (May). Lisbon Chapter appoints him Second Definitor and (till 1587)
Vicar-Provincial of Andalusia. Makes the following foundations: MÃ¡laga,
February 17, 1585; CÃ³rdoba, May 18, 1586; La Manchuela (de JaÃ©n), October
12, 1586; Caravaca, December 18, 1586; Bujalance, June 24, 1587.

1587 (April). Chapter of Valladolid re-appoints him Prior of Los MÃ¡rtires.
He ceases to be Definitor and Vicar-Provincial.

1588 (June 19). Attends the first Chapter-General of the Reform in Madrid.
Is elected First Definitor and a consiliario.

1588 (August 10). Becomes Prior of Segovia, the central house of the Reform
and the headquarters of the Consulta. Acts as deputy for the Vicar-General,
P. Doria, during the latters absences.

1590 (June 10). Re-elected First Definitor and a consiliario at the
Chapter-General Extraordinary, Madrid.

1591 (June 1). The Madrid Chapter-General deprives him of his offices and
resolves to send him to Mexico. (This latter decision was later revoked.)

1591 (August 10). Arrives at La Pe“uela.

1591 (September 12). Attacked by fever. (September Leaves La Pe“uela for
beda. (December 14) Dies at beda.

January 25, 1675. Beatified by Clement X.

December 26, 1726. Canonized by Benedict XIII.

August 24, 1926. Declared Doctor of the Church Universal by Pius XI.
_________________________________________________________________

[2] Cf. Translators Preface to the First Edition, II.
_________________________________________________________________

GENERAL INTRODUCTION TO THE WORKS OF ST. JOHN OF THE CROSS

I

DATES AND METHODS OF COMPOSITION.

GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS

WITH regard to the times and places at which the works of St. John of the
Cross were written, and also with regard to the number of these works, there
have existed, from a very early date, considerable differences of opinion.
Of internal evidence from the Saints own writings there is practically
none, and such external testimony as can be found in contemporary documents
needs very careful examination.

There was no period in the life of St. John of the Cross in which he devoted
himself entirely to writing. He does not, in fact, appear to have felt any
inclination to do so: his books were written in response to the insistent
and repeated demands of his spiritual children. He was very much addicted,
on the other hand, to the composition of apothegms or maxims for the use of
his penitents and this custom he probably began as early as the days in
which he was confessor to the Convent of the Incarnation at vila, though his
biographers have no record of any maxims but those written at Beas. One of
his best beloved daughters however, Ana MarÃa de JesÃºs, of the Convent of
the Incarnation, declared in her deposition, during the process of the
Saints canonization, that he was accustomed to˜comfort those with whom he
had to do, both by his words and by his letters, of which this witness
received a number, and also by certain papers concerning holy things which
this witness would greatly value if she still had them. Considering, the
number of nuns to whom the Saint was director at vila, it is to be presumed
that M. Ana MarÃa was not the only person whom he favoured. We may safely
conclude, indeed, that there were many others who shared the same
privileges, and that, had we all these˜papers, they would comprise a large
volume, instead of the few pages reproduced elsewhere in this translation.

There is a well-known story, preserved in the documents of the canonization
process, of how, on a December night of 1577, St. John, of the Cross was
kidnapped by the Calced Carmelites of vila and carried off from the
Incarnation to their priory. [3] Realizing that he had left behind him some
important papers, he contrived, on the next morning, to escape, and returned
to the Incarnation to destroy them while there was time to do so. He was
missed almost immediately and he had hardly gained his cell when his
pursuers were on his heels. In the few moments that remained to him he had
time to tear up these papers and swallow some of the most compromising. As
the original assault had not been unexpected, though the time of it was
uncertain, they would not have been very numerous. It is generally supposed
that they concerned the business of the infant Reform, of which the survival
was at that time in grave doubt. But it seems at least equally likely that
some of them might have been these spiritual maxims, or some more extensive
instructions which might be misinterpreted by any who found them. It is
remarkable, at any rate, that we have none of the Saints writings belonging
to this period whatever.

All his biographers tell us that he wrote some of the stanzas of the
˜Spiritual Canticle, together with a few other poems, while he was
imprisoned at Toledo.˜When he left the prison, says M. Magdalena del
EspÃritu Santo,˜he took with him a little book in which he had written,
while there, some verses based upon the Gospel In principio erat Verbum,
together with some couplets which begin:œHow well I know the fount that
freely flows, Although˜tis night, and the stanzas or liras that begin
œWhither has vanishd? as far as the stanzas beginningœDaughters of
Jewry. The remainder of them the Saint composed later when he was Rector of
the College at Baeza. Some of the expositions were written at Beas, as
answers to questions put to him by the nuns; others at Granada. This little
book, in which the Saint wrote while in prison, he left in the Convent of
Beas and on various occasions I was commanded to copy it. Then someone took
it from my cell who, I never knew. The freshness of the words in this
book, together with their beauty and subtlety, caused me great wonder, and
one day I asked the Saint if God gave him those words which were so
comprehensive and so lovely. And he answered:œDaughter, sometimes God gave
them to me and at other times I sought them. [4]

M. Isabel de JesÃºs MarÃa, who was a novice at Toledo when the Saint escaped
from his imprisonment there, wrote thus from Cuerva on November 2, 1614.˜I
remember, too, that, at the time we had him hidden in the church, he recited
to us some lines which he had composed and kept in his mind, and that one of
the nuns wrote them down as he repeated them. There were three poems all
of them upon the Most Holy Trinity, and so sublime and devout that they seem
to enkindle the reader. In this house at Cuerva we have some which begin:

œFar away in the beginning,

Dwelt the Word in God Most High. [5]

The frequent references to keeping his verses in his head and the popular
exaggeration of the hardships (great though these were) which the Saint had
to endure in Toledo have led some writers to affirm that he did not in fact
write these poems in prison but committed them to memory and transferred
them to paper at some later date. The evidence of M. Magdalena, however,
would appear to be decisive. We know, too, that the second of St. John of
the Crosss gaolers, Fray Juan de Santa MarÃa, was a kindly man who did all
he could to lighten his captives sufferings; and his superiors would
probably not have forbidden him writing materials provided he wrote no
letters. [6]

It seems, then, that the Saint wrote in Toledo the first seventeen (or
perhaps thirty) stanzas of the˜Spiritual Canticle, the nine parts of the
poem˜Far away in the beginning . . ., the paraphrase of the psalm Super
flumina Babylonis and the poem˜How well I know the fount . . . This was
really a considerable output of work, for, except perhaps when his gaoler
allowed him to go into another room, he had no light but that of a small
oil-lamp or occasionally the infiltration of daylight that penetrated a
small interior window.

Apart from the statement of M. Magdalena already quoted, little more is
known of what the Saint wrote in El Calvario than of what he wrote in
Toledo. From an amplification made by herself of the sentences to which we
have referred it appears that almost the whole of what she had copied was
taken from her; as the short extracts transcribed by her are very similar to
passages from the Saints writings we may perhaps conclude that much of the
other material was also incorporated in them. In that case he may well have
completed a fair proportion of the Ascent of Mount Carmel before leaving
Beas.

It was in El Calvario, too, and for the nuns of Beas, that the Saint drew
the plan called the˜Mount of Perfection (referred to by M. Magdalena [7]
and in the Ascent of Mount Carmel and reproduced as the frontispiece to this
volume) of which copies were afterwards multiplied and distributed among
Discalced houses. Its author wished it to figure at the head of all his
treatises, for it is a graphical representation of the entire mystic way,
from the starting-point of the beginner to the very summit of perfection.
His first sketch, which still survives, is a rudimentary and imperfect one;
before long, however, as M. Magdalena tells us, he evolved another that was
fuller and more comprehensive.

Mount Carmel

Just as we owe to PP. GraciÃ¡n and Salazar many precious relics of St.
Teresa, so we owe others of St. John of the Cross to M. Magdalena. Among the
most valuable of these is her own copy of the˜Mount, which, after her
death, went to the˜Desert [8] of Our Lady of the Snows established by the
Discalced province of Upper Andalusia in the diocese of Granada. It was
found there by P. AndrÃ©s de la EncarnaciÃ³n, of whom we shall presently
speak, and who immediately made a copy of it, legally certified as an exact
one and now in the National Library of Spain (MS. 6,296).

The superiority of the second plan over the first is very evident. The first
consists simply of three parallel lines corresponding to three different
paths one on either side of the Mount, marked˜Road of the spirit of
imperfection and one in the centre marked˜Path of Mount Carmel. Spirit of
perfection. In the spaces between the paths are written the celebrated
maxims which appear in Book I, Chapter xiii, of the Ascent of Mount Carmel,
in a somewhat different form, together with certain others. At the top of
the drawing are the words˜Mount Carmel, which are not found in the second
plan, and below them is the legend:˜There is no road here, for there is no
law for the righteous man, together with other texts from Scripture.

The second plan represents a number of graded heights, the loftiest of which
is planted with trees. Three paths, as in the first sketch, lead from the
base of the mount, but they are traced more artistically and have a more
detailed ascetic and mystical application. Those on either side, which
denote the roads of imperfection, are broad and somewhat tortuous and come
to an end before the higher stages of the mount are reached. The centre
road, that of perfection, is at first very narrow but gradually broadens and
leads right up to the summit of the mountain, which only the perfect attain
and where they enjoy the iuge convivium the heavenly feast. The different
zones of religious perfection, from which spring various virtues, are
portrayed with much greater detail than in the first plan. As we have
reproduced the second plan in this volume, it need not be described more
fully.

We know that St. John of the Cross used the˜Mount very, frequently for all
kinds of religious instruction.˜By means of this drawing, testified one of
his disciples,˜he used to teach us that, in order to attain to perfection,
we must not desire the good things of earth, nor those of Heaven; but that
we must desire naught save to seek and strive after the glory and honour of
God our Lord in all things . . . and thisœMount of Perfection the said
holy father himself expounded to this Witness when he was his superior in
the said priory of Granada. [9]

It seems not improbable that the Saint continued writing chapters of the
Ascent and the Spiritual Canticle while he was Rector at Baeza, [10] whether
in the College itself, or in El Castellar, where he was accustomed often to
go into retreat. It was certainly here that he wrote the remaining stanzas
of the Canticle (as M. Magdalena explicitly tells us in words already
quoted), except the last five, which he composed rather later, at Granada.
One likes to think that these loveliest of his verses were penned by the
banks of the Guadalimar, in the woods of the Granja de Santa Ann, where he
was in the habit of passing long hours in communion with God. At all events
the stanzas seem more in harmony with such an atmosphere than with that of
the College.

With regard to the last five stanzas, we have definite evidence from a Beas
nun, M. Francisca de la Madre de Dios, who testifies in the Beatification
process (April 2, 1618) as follows:

And so, when the said holy friar John of the Cross was in this convent one
Lent (for his great love for it brought him here from the said city of
Granada, where he was prior, to confess the nuns and preach to them) he
was preaching to them one day in the parlour, and this witness observed
that on two separate occasions he was rapt and lifted up from the ground;
and when he came to himself he dissembled and said:˜You saw how sleep
overcame me! And one day he asked this witness in what her prayer
consisted, and she replied:˜In considering the beauty of God and in
rejoicing that He has such beauty. And the Saint was so pleased with this
that for some days he said the most sublime things concerning the beauty
of God, at which all marvelled. And thus, under the influence of this
love, he composed five stanzas, beginning˜Beloved, let us sing, And in
thy beauty see ourselves portrayd. And in all this he showed that there
was in his breast a great love of God.

From a letter which this nun wrote from Beas in 1629 to P. JerÃ³nimo de San
JosÃ©, we gather that the stanzas were actually written at Granada and
brought to Beas, where

. . . with every word that we spoke to him we seemed to be opening a door
to the fruition of the great treasures and riches which God had stored up
in his soul.

If there is a discrepancy here, however, it is of small importance; there is
no doubt as to the approximate date of the composition of these stanzas and
of their close connection with Beas.

The most fruitful literary years for St. John of the Cross were those which
he spent at Granada. Here he completed the Ascent and wrote all his
remaining treatises. Both M. Magdalena and the Saints closest disciple, P.
Juan Evangelista, bear witness to this. The latter writes from Granada to P.
JerÃ³nimo de San JosÃ©, the historian of the Reform:

With regard to having seen our venerable father write the books, I saw him
write them all; for, as I have said, I was ever at his side. The Ascent of
Mount Carmel and the Dark Night he wrote here at Granada, little by
little, continuing them only with many breaks. The Living Flame of Love he
also wrote in this house, when he was Vicar-Provincial, at the request of
DoÃ±a Ana de PeÃ±alosa, and he wrote it in fifteen days when he was very
busy here with an abundance of occupations. The first thing that he wrote
was Whither hast vanishd? and that too he wrote here; the stanzas he had
written in the prison at Toledo. [11]

In another letter (February 18, 1630), he wrote to the same correspondent:

With regard to our holy fathers having written his books in this home, I
will say what is undoubtedly true namely, that he wrote here the
commentary on the stanzas Whither hast vanishd? and the Living Flame of
Love, for he began and ended them in my time. The Ascent of Mount Carmel I
found had been begun when I came here to take the habit, which was a year
and a half after the foundation of this house; he may have brought it from
yonder already begun. But the Dark Night he certainly wrote here, for I
saw him writing a part of it, and this is certain, because I saw it. [12]

These and other testimonies might with advantage be fuller and more
concrete, but at least they place beyond doubt the facts that we have
already set down. Summarizing our total findings, we may assert that part of
the˜Spiritual Canticle, with perhaps the˜Dark Night, and the other poems
enumerated, were written in the Toledo prison; that at the request of some
nuns he wrote at El Calvario (1578-79) a few chapters of the Ascent and
commentaries on some of the stanzas of the˜Canticle; that he composed
further stanzas at Baeza (1579-81), perhaps with their respective
commentaries; and that, finally, he completed the Canticle and the Ascent at
Granada and wrote the whole of the Dark Night and of the Living Flame the
latter in a fortnight. All these last works he wrote before the end of 1585,
the first year in which he was Vicar-Provincial.

Other writings, most of them brief, are attributed to St. John of the Cross;
they will be discussed in the third volume of this edition, in which we
shall publish the minor works which we accept as genuine. The authorship of
his four major prose works the Ascent, Dark Night, Spiritual Canticle and
Living Flame no one has ever attempted to question, even though the lack
of extant autographs and the large number of copies have made it difficult
to establish correct texts. To this question we shall return later.

The characteristics of the writings of St. John of the Cross are so striking
that it would be difficult to confuse them with those of any other writer.
His literary personality stands out clearly from that of his Spanish
contemporaries who wrote on similar subjects. Both his style and his methods
of exposition bear the marks of a strong individuality.

If some of these derive from his native genius and temperament, others are
undoubtedly reflections of his education and experience. The
Aristotelian-Thomistic philosophy, then at the height of its splendour,
which he learned so thoroughly in the classrooms of Salamanca University,
characterizes the whole of his writings, giving them a granite-like solidity
even when their theme is such as to defy human speculation. Though the
precise extent of his debt to this Salamancan training in philosophy has not
yet been definitely assessed, the fact of its influence is evident to every
reader. It gives massiveness, harmony and unity to both the ascetic and the
mystical work of St. John of the Cross that is to say, to all his
scientific writing.

Deeply, however, as St. John of the Cross drew from the Schoolmen, he was
also profoundly indebted to many other writers. He was distinctly eclectic
in his reading and quotes freely (though less than some of his Spanish
contemporaries) from the Fathers and from the mediaeval mystics, especially
from St. Thomas, St. Bonaventura, Hugh of St. Victor and the
pseudo-Areopagite. All that he quotes, however, he makes his own, with the
result that his chapters are never a mass of citations loosely strung
together, as are those of many other Spanish mystics of his time.

When we study his treatises principally that great composite work known as
the Ascent of Mount Carmel and the Dark Night we have the impression of a
master-mind that has scaled the heights of mystical science and from their
summit looks down upon and dominates the plain below and the paths leading
upward. We may well wonder what a vast contribution to the subject he would
have made had he been able to expound all the eight stanzas of his poem
since he covered so much ground in expounding no more than two. Observe with
what assurance and what mastery of subject and method he defines his themes
and divides his arguments, even when treating the most abstruse and
controversial questions. The most obscure phenomena he appears to illumine,
as it were, with one lightning flash of understanding, as though the
explanation of them were perfectly natural and easy. His solutions of
difficult problems are not timid, questioning and loaded with exceptions,
but clear, definite and virile like the man who proposes them. No scientific
field, perhaps, has so many zones which are apt to become vague and obscure
as has that of mystical theology; and there are those among the Saints
predecessors who seem to have made their permanent abode in them. They give
the impression of attempting to cloak vagueness in verbosity, in order to
avoid being forced into giving solutions of problems which they find
insoluble. Not so St. John of the Cross. A scientific dictator, if such a
person were conceivable, could hardly express himself with greater clarity.
His phrases have a decisive, almost a chiselled quality; where he errs on
the side of redundance, it is not with the intention of cloaking
uncertainty, but in order that he may drive home with double force the
truths which he desires to impress.

No less admirable are, on the one hand, his synthetic skill and the logic of
his arguments, and, on the other, his subtle and discriminating analyses,
which weigh the finest shades of thought and dissect each subject with all
the accuracy of science. To his analytical genius we owe those finely
balanced statements, orthodox yet bold and fearless, which have caused
clumsier intellects to misunderstand him. It is not remarkable that this
should have occurred. The ease with which the unskilled can misinterpret
genius is shown in the history of many a heresy.

How much of all this St. John of the Cross owed to his studies of scholastic
philosophy in the University of Salamanca, it is difficult to say. If we
examine the history of that University and read of its severe discipline we
shall be in no danger of under-estimating the effect which it must have
produced upon so agile and alert an intellect. Further, we note the constant
parallelisms and the comparatively infrequent (though occasionally
important) divergences between the doctrines of St. John of the Cross and
St. Thomas, to say nothing of the close agreement between the views of St.
John of the Cross and those of the Schoolmen on such subjects as the
passions and appetites, the nature of the soul, the relations between soul
and body. Yet we must not forget the student tag: Quod natura non dat,
Salamtica non praestat. Nothing but natural genius could impart the vigour
and the clarity which enhance all St. John of the Crosss arguments and
nothing but his own deep and varied experience could have made him what he
may well be termed the greatest psychologist in the history of mysticism.

Eminent, too, was St. John of the Cross in sacred theology. The close
natural connection that exists between dogmatic and mystical theology and
their continual interdependence in practice make it impossible for a
Christian teacher to excel in the latter alone. Indeed, more than one of the
heresies that have had their beginnings in mysticism would never have
developed had those who fell into them been well grounded in dogmatic
theology. The one is, as it were, the lantern that lights the path of the
other, as St. Teresa realized when she began to feel the continual necessity
of consulting theological teachers. If St. John of the Cross is able to
climb the greatest heights of mysticism and remain upon them without
stumbling or dizziness it is because his feet are invariably well shod with
the truths of dogmatic theology. The great mysteries those of the Trinity,
the Creation, the Incarnation and the Redemption and such dogmas as those
concerning grace, the gifts of the Spirit, the theological virtues, etc.,
were to him guide-posts for those who attempted to scale, and to lead others
to scale, the symbolic mount of sanctity.

It will be remembered that the Saint spent but one year upon his theological
course at the University of Salamanca, for which reason many have been
surprised at the evident solidity of his attainments. But, apart from the
fact that a mind so keen and retentive as that of Fray Juan de San MatÃas
could absorb in a year what others would have failed to imbibe in the more
usual two or three, we must of necessity assume a far longer time spent in
private study. For in one year he could not have studied all the treatises
of which he clearly demonstrates his knowledge to say nothing of many
others which he must have known. His own works, apart from any external
evidence, prove him to have been a theologian of distinction.

In both fields, the dogmatic and the mystical he was greatly aided by his
knowledge of Holy Scripture, which he studied continually, in the last years
of his life, to the exclusion, as it would seem, of all else. Much of it he
knew by heart; the simple devotional talks that he was accustomed to give
were invariably studded with texts, and he made use of passages from the
Bible both to justify and to illustrate his teaching. In the mystical
interpretation of Holy Scripture, as every student of mysticism knows, he
has had few equals even among his fellow Doctors of the Church Universal.

Testimonies to his mastery of the Scriptures can be found in abundance. P.
Alonso de la Madre de Dios, el Asturicense, for example, who was personally
acquainted with him, stated in 1603 that˜he had a great gift and facility
for the exposition of the Sacred Scripture, principally of the Song of
Songs, Ecclesiasticus, Ecclesiastes, the Proverbs and the Psalms of
David. [13] His spiritual daughter, that same Magdalena del EspÃritus Santo
to whom we have several times referred, affirms that St. John of the Cross
would frequently read the Gospels to the nuns of Beas and expound the letter
and the spirit to them. [14] Fray Juan Evangelista says in a well-known
passage:

He was very fond of reading in the Scriptures, and I never once saw him
read any other books than the Bible, [15] almost all of which he knew by
heart, St. Augustine Contra Haereses and the Flos Sanctorum. When
occasionally he preached (which was seldom) or gave informal addresses
[plÃ¡ticas], as he more commonly did, he never read from any book save the
Bible. His conversation, whether at recreation or at other times, was
continually of God, and he spoke so delightfully that, when he discoursed
upon sacred things at recreation, he would make us all laugh and we used
greatly to enjoy going out. On occasions when we held chapters, he would
usually give devotional addresses (plÃ¡ticas divinas) after supper, and he
never failed to give an address every night. [16]

Fray Pablo de Santa MarÃa, who had also heard the Saints addresses, wrote
thus:

He was a man of the most enkindled spirituality and of great insight into
all that concerns mystical theology and matters of prayer; I consider it
impossible that he could have spoken so well about all the virtues if he
had not been most proficient in the spiritual life, and I really think he
knew the whole Bible by heart, so far as one could judge from the various
Biblical passages which he would quote at chapters and in the refectory,
without any great effort, but as one who goes where the Spirit leads him.
[17]

Nor was this admiration for the expository ability of St. John of the Cross
confined to his fellow-friars, who might easily enough have been led into
hero-worship. We know that he was thought highly of in this respect by the
University of AlcalÃ¡ de Henares, where he was consulted as an authority. A
Dr. Villegas, Canon of Segovia Cathedral, has left on record his respect for
him. And Fray JerÃ³nimo de San JosÃ© relates the esteem in which he was held
at the University of Baeza, which in his day enjoyed a considerable
reputation for Biblical studies:

There were at that time at the University of Baeza many learned and
spiritually minded persons, disciples of that great father and apostle
Juan de vila. [18] . . . All these doctors . . . would repair to our
venerable father as to an oracle from heaven and would discuss with him
both their own spiritual progress and that of souls committed to their
charge, with the result that they were both edified and astonished at his
skill. They would also bring him difficulties and delicate points
connected with Divine letters, and on these, too, he spoke with
extraordinary energy and illumination. One of these doctors, who had
consulted him and listened to him on various occasions, said that,
although he had read deeply in St. Augustine and St. John Chrysostom and
other saints, and had found in them greater heights and depths, he had
found in none of them that particular kind of spirituality in exposition
which this great father applied to Scriptural passages. [19]

The Scriptural knowledge of St. John of the Cross was, as this passage makes
clear, in no way merely academic. Both in his literal and his mystical
interpretations of the Bible, he has what we may call a˜Biblical sense,
which saves him from such exaggerations as we find in other expositors, both
earlier and contemporary. One would not claim, of course, that among the
many hundreds of applications of Holy Scripture made by the Carmelite Doctor
there are none that can be objected to in this respect; but the same can be
said of St. Augustine, St. Ambrose, St. Gregory or St. Bernard, and no one
would assert that, either with them or with him, such instances are other
than most exceptional.

To the three sources already mentioned in which St. John of the Cross found
inspiration we must add a fourth the works of ascetic and mystical
writers. It is not yet possible to assert with any exactness how far the
Saint made use of these; for, though partial studies of this question have
been attempted, a complete and unbiased treatment of it has still to be
undertaken. Here we can do no more than give a few indications of what
remains to be done and summarize the present content of our knowledge. [20]

We may suppose that, during his novitiate in Medina, the Saint read a number
of devotional books, one of which would almost certainly have been the
Imitation of Christ, and others would have included works which were
translated into Spanish by order of Cardinal Cisneros. The demands of a
University course would not keep him from pursuing such studies at
Salamanca; the friar who chose a cell from the window of which he could see
the Blessed Sacrament, so that he might spend hours in its company, would
hardly be likely to neglect his devotional reading. But we have not a
syllable of direct external evidence as to the titles of any of the books
known to him.

Nor, for that matter, have we much more evidence of this kind for any other
part of his life. Both his early Carmelite biographers and the numerous
witnesses who gave evidence during the canonization process describe at
great length his extraordinary penances, his love for places of retreat
beautified by Nature, the long hours that he spent in prayer and the tongue
of angels with which he spoke on things spiritual. But of his reading they
say nothing except to describe his attachment to the Bible, nor have we any
record of the books contained in the libraries of the religious houses that
he visited. Yet if, as we gather from the process, he spent little more than
three hours nightly in sleep, he must have read deeply of spiritual things
by night as well as by day.

Some clues to the nature of his reading may be gained from his own writings.
It is true that the clues are slender. He cites few works apart from the
Bible and these are generally liturgical books, such as the Breviary. Some
of his quotations from St. Augustine, St. Gregory and other of the Fathers
are traceable to these sources. Nevertheless, we have not read St. John of
the Cross for long before we find ourselves in the full current of mystical
tradition. It is not by means of more or less literal quotations that the
Saint produces this impression; he has studied his precursors so thoroughly
that he absorbs the substance of their doctrine and incorporates it so
intimately in his own that it becomes flesh of his flesh. Everything in his
writings is fully matured: he has no juvenilia. The mediaeval mystics whom
he uses are too often vague and undisciplined; they need someone to select
from them and unify them, to give them clarity and order, so that their
treatment of mystical theology may have the solidity and substance of
scholastic theology. To have done this is one of the achievements of St.
John of the Cross.

We are convinced, then, by an internal evidence which is chiefly of a kind
in which no chapter and verse can be given, that St. John of the Cross read
widely in mediaeval mystical theology and assimilated a great part of what
he read. The influence of foreign writers upon Spanish mysticism, though it
was once denied, is to-day generally recognized. It was inevitable that it
should have been considerable in a country which in the sixteenth century
had such a high degree of culture as Spain. Plotinus, in a diluted form,
made his way into Spanish mysticism as naturally as did Seneca into Spanish
asceticism. Plato and Aristotle entered it through the two greatest minds
that Christianity has known St. Augustine and St. Thomas. The influence of
the Platonic theories of love and beauty and of such basic Aristotelian
theories as the origin of knowledge is to be found in most of the Spanish
mystics, St. John of the Cross among them.

The pseudo-Dionysius was another writer who was considered a great authority
by the Spanish mystics. The importance attributed to his works arose partly
from the fact that he was supposed to have been one of the first disciples
of the Apostles; many chapters from mystical works of those days all over
Europe are no more than glosses of the pseudo-Areopagite. He is followed
less, however, by St. John of the Cross than by many of the latters
contemporaries.

Other influences upon the Carmelite Saint were St. Gregory, St. Bernard and
Hugh and Richard of St. Victor, many of whose maxims were in the mouths of
the mystics in the sixteenth century. More important, probably, than any of
these was the Fleming, Ruysbroeck, between whom and St. John of the Cross
there were certainly many points of contact. The Saint would have read him,
not in the original, but in Surius Latin translation of 1552, copies of
which are known to have been current in Spain. [21] Together with Ruysbroeck
may be classed Suso, Denis the Carthusian, Herp, Kempis and various other
writers.

Many of the ideas and phrases which we find in St. John of the Cross, as in
other writers, are, of course, traceable to the common mystical tradition
rather than to any definite individual influence. The striking metaphor of
the ray of light penetrating the room, for example, which occurs in the
first chapter of the pseudo-Areopagites De Mystica Theologia, has been used
continually by mystical writers ever since his time. The figures of the wood
consumed by fire, of the ladder, the mirror, the flame of love and the
nights of sense and spirit had long since become naturalized in mystical
literature. There are many more such examples.

The originality of St. John of the Cross is in no way impaired by his
employment of this current mystical language: such an idea might once have
been commonly held, but has long ceased to be put forward seriously. His
originality, indeed, lies precisely in the use which he made of language
that he found near to hand. It is not going too far to liken the place taken
by St. John of the Cross in mystical theology to that of St. Thomas in
dogmatic; St. Thomas laid hold upon the immense store of material which had
accumulated in the domain of dogmatic theology and subjected it to the iron
discipline of reason. That St. John of the Cross did the same for mystical
theology is his great claim upon our admiration. Through St. Thomas speaks
the ecclesiastical tradition of many ages on questions of religious belief;
through St. John speaks an equally venerable tradition on questions of
Divine love. Both writers combined sainthood with genius. Both opened broad
channels to be followed of necessity by Catholic writers through the ages to
come till theology shall lose itself in that vast ocean of truth and love
which is God. Both created instruments adequate to the greatness of their
task: St. Thomas clear, decisive reasoning processes give us the formula
appropriate to each and every need of the understanding; St. John clothes
his teaching in mellower and more appealing language, as befits the exponent
of the science of love. We may describe the treatises of St. John of the
Cross as the true Summa Angelica of mystical theology.

II

OUTSTANDING QUALITIES AND DEFECTS OF THE SAINTS STYLE

The profound and original thought which St. John of the Cross bestowed upon
so abstruse a subject, and upon one on which there was so little classical
literature in Spanish when he wrote, led him to clothe his ideas in a
language at once energetic, precise and of a high degree of individuality.
His style reflects his thought, but it reflects the style of no school and
of no other writer whatsoever.

This is natural enough, for thought and feeling were always uppermost in the
Saint: style and language take a place entirely subordinate to them. Never
did he sacrifice any idea to artistic combinations of words; never blur over
any delicate shade of thought to enhance some rhythmic cadence of musical
prose. Literary form (to use a figure which he himself might have coined) is
only present at all in his works in the sense in which the industrious and
deferential servant is present in the ducal apartment, for the purpose of
rendering faithful service to his lord and master. This subordination of
style to content in the Saints work is one of its most eminent qualities.
He is a great writer, but not a great stylist. The strength and robustness
of his intellect everywhere predominate.

This to a large extent explains the negligences which we find in his style,
the frequency with which it is marred by repetitions and its occasional
degeneration into diffuseness. The long, unwieldy sentences, one of which
will sometimes run to the length of a reasonably sized paragraph, are
certainly a trial to many a reader. So intent is the Saint upon explaining,
underlining and developing his points so that they shall be apprehended as
perfectly as may be, that he continually recurs to what he has already said,
and repeats words, phrases and even passages of considerable length without
scruple. It is only fair to remind the reader that such things were far
commoner in the Golden Age than they are to-day; most didactic Spanish prose
of that period would be notably improved, from a modern standpoint, if its
volume were cut down by about one-third.

Be that as it may, these defects in the prose of St. John of the Cross are
amply compensated by the fullness of his phraseology, the wealth and
profusion of his imagery, the force and the energy of his argument. He has
only to be compared with the didactic writers who were his contemporaries
for this to become apparent. Together with Luis de Granada, Luis de LeÃ³n,
Juan de los Ãngeles and Luis de la Puente, [22] he created a genuinely
native language, purged of Latinisms, precise and eloquent, which Spanish
writers have used ever since in writing of mystical theology.

The most sublime of all the Spanish mystics, he soars aloft on the wings of
Divine love to heights known to hardly any of them. Though no words can
express the loftiest of the experiences which he describes, we are never
left with the impression that word, phrase or image has failed him. If it
does not exist, he appears to invent it, rather than pause in his
description in order to search for an expression of the idea that is in his
mind or be satisfied with a prolix paraphrase. True to the character of his
thought, his style is always forceful and energetic, even to a fault.

We have said nothing of his poems, for indeed they call for no purely
literary commentary. How full of life the greatest of them are, how rich in
meaning, how unforgettable and how inimitable, the individual reader may see
at a glance or may learn from his own experience. Many of their exquisite
figures their author owes, directly or indirectly, to his reading and
assimilation of the Bible. Some of them, however, have acquired a new life
in the form which he has given them. A line here, a phrase there, has taken
root in the mind of some later poet or essayist and has given rise to a new
work of art, to many lovers of which the Saint who lies behind it is
unknown.

It is perhaps not an exaggeration to say that the verse and prose works
combined of St. John of the Cross form at once the most grandiose and the
most melodious spiritual canticle to which any one man has ever given
utterance. It is impossible, in the space at our disposal, to quote at any
length from the Spanish critics who have paid tribute to its
comprehensiveness and profundity. We must content ourselves with a short
quotation characterizing the Saints poems, taken from the greatest of these
critics, Marcelino MenÃ©ndez Pelayo, who, besides referring frequently to St.
John of the Cross in such of his mature works as the Heterodoxos, Ideas
EstÃ©ticas and Ciencia EspaÃ±ola, devoted to him a great part of the address
which he delivered as a young man at his official reception into the Spanish
Academy under the title of˜Mystical Poetry.

˜So sublime, wrote MenÃ©ndez Pelayo,˜is this poetry [of St. John of the
Cross] that it scarcely seems to belong to this world at all; it is hardly
capable of being assessed by literary criteria. More ardent in its passion
than any profane poetry, its form is as elegant and exquisite, as plastic
and as highly figured as any of the finest works of the Renaissance. The
spirit of God has passed through these poems every one, beautifying and
sanctifying them on its way.

III

DIFFUSION OF THE WRITINGS OF ST. JOHN OF THE CROSS LOSS OF THE AUTOGRAPHS
GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF THE MANUSCRIPTS

The outstanding qualities of St. John of the Crosss writings were soon
recognized by the earliest of their few and privileged readers. All such
persons, of course, belonged to a small circle composed of the Saints
intimate friends and disciples. As time went on, the circle widened
repeatedly; now it embraces the entire Church, and countless individual
souls who are filled with the spirit of Christianity.

First of all, the works were read and discussed in those loci of evangelical
zeal which the Saint had himself enkindled, by his word and example, at
Beas, El Calvario, Baeza and Granada. They could not have come more
opportunely. St. Teresas Reform had engendered a spiritual alertness and
energy reminiscent of the earliest days of Christianity. Before this could
in any way diminish, her first friar presented the followers of them both
with spiritual food to nourish and re-create their souls and so to sustain
the high degree of zeal for Our Lord which He had bestowed upon them.

In one sense, St. John of the Cross took up his pen in order to supplement
the writings of St. Teresa; on several subjects, for example, he abstained
from writing at length because she had already treated of them. [23] Much of
the work of the two Saints, however, of necessity covers the same ground,
and thus the great mystical school of the Spanish Carmelites is reinforced
at its very beginnings in a way which must be unique in the history of
mysticism. The writings of St. Teresa and St. John of the Cross, though of
equal value and identical aim, are in many respects very different in their
nature; together they cover almost the entire ground of orthodox mysticism,
both speculative and experimental. The Carmelite mystics who came after them
were able to build upon a broad and sure foundation.

The writings of St. John of the Cross soon became known outside the narrow
circle of his sons and daughters in religion. In a few years they had gone
all over Spain and reached Portugal, France and Italy. They were read by
persons of every social class, from the Empress Maria of Austria, sister of
Philip II, to the most unlettered nuns of St. Teresas most remote
foundations. One of the witnesses at the process for the beatification
declared that he knew of no works of which there existed so many copies,
with the exception of the Bible.

We may fairly suppose (and the supposition is confirmed by the nature of the
extant manuscripts) that the majority of the early copies were made by
friars and nuns of the Discalced Reform. Most Discalced houses must have had
copies and others were probably in the possession of members of other
Orders. We gather, too, from various sources, that even lay persons managed
to make or obtain copies of the manuscripts.

How many of these copies, it will be asked, were made directly from the
autographs? So vague is the available evidence on this question that it is
difficult to attempt any calculation of even approximate reliability. All we
can say is that the copies made by, or for, the Discalced friars and nuns
themselves are the earliest and most trustworthy, while those intended for
the laity were frequently made at third or fourth hand. The Saint himself
seems to have written out only one manuscript of each treatise and none of
these has come down to us. Some think that he destroyed the manuscripts
copied with his own hand, fearing that they might come to be venerated for
other reasons than that of the value of their teaching. He was, of course,
perfectly capable of such an act of abnegation; once, as we know, in
accordance with his own principles, he burned some letters of St. Teresa,
which he had carried with him for years, for no other reason than that he
realized that he was becoming attached to them. [24]

The only manuscript of his that we possess consists of a few pages of
maxims, some letters and one or two documents which he wrote when he was
Vicar-Provincial of Andalusia. [25] So numerous and so thorough have been
the searches made for further autographs during the last three centuries
that further discoveries of any importance seem most unlikely. We have,
therefore, to console ourselves with manuscripts, such as the SanlÃºcar de
Barrameda Codex of the Spiritual Canticle, which bear the Saints autograph
corrections as warrants of their integrity.

The vagueness of much of the evidence concerning the manuscripts to which we
have referred extends to the farthest possible limit that of using the
word˜original to indicate˜autograph and˜copy indifferently. Even in
the earliest documents we can never be sure which sense is intended.
Furthermore, there was a passion in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries
for describing all kinds of old manuscripts as autographs, and thus we find
copies so described in which the hand bears not the slightest resemblance to
that of the Saint, as the most superficial collation with a genuine specimen
of his hand would have made evident. We shall give instances of this in
describing the extant copies of individual treatises. One example of a
general kind, however, may be quoted here to show the extent to which the
practice spread. In a statement made, with reference to one of the
processes, at the convent of Discalced Carmelite nuns of Valladolid, a
certain M. MarÃa de la Trinidad deposed˜that a servant of God, a Franciscan
tertiary named Ana MarÃa, possesses the originals of the books of our holy
father, and has heard that he sent them to the Order. Great importance was
attached to this deposition and every possible measure was taken to find the
autographs needless to say, without result. [26]

With the multiplication of the number of copies of St. John of the Crosss
writings, the number of variants naturally multiplied also. The early copies
having all been made for devotional purposes, by persons with little or no
palaeographical knowledge, many of whom did not even exercise common care,
it is not surprising that there is not a single one which can compare in
punctiliousness with certain extant eighteenth-century copies of documents
connected with St. John of the Cross and St. Teresa. These were made by a
painstaking friar called Manuel de Santa MarÃa, whose scrupulousness went so
far that he reproduced imperfectly formed letters exactly as they were
written, adding the parts that were lacking (e.g., the tilde over the letter
Ã±) with ink of another colour.

We may lament that this good father had no predecessor like himself to copy
the Saints treatises, but it is only right to say that the copies we
possess are sufficiently faithful and numerous to give us reasonably
accurate versions of their originals. The important point about them is that
they bear no signs of bad faith, nor even of the desire (understandable
enough in those unscientific days) to clarify the sense of their original,
or even to improve upon its teaching. Their errors are often gross ones, but
the large majority of them are quite easy to detect and put right. The
impression to this effect which one obtains from a casual perusal of almost
any of these copies is quite definitely confirmed by a comparison of them
with copies corrected by the Saint or written by the closest and most
trusted of his disciples. It may be added that some of the variants may, for
aught we know to the contrary, be the Saints own work, since it is not
improbable that he may have corrected more than one copy of some of his
writings, and not been entirely consistent.

There are, broadly speaking, two classes into which the copies (more
particularly those of the Ascent and the Dark Night) may be divided. One
class aims at a more or less exact transcription; the other definitely sets
out to abbreviate. Even if the latter class be credited with a number of
copies which hardly merit the name, the former is by far the larger, and, of
course, the more important, though it must not be supposed that the latter
is unworthy of notice. The abbreviators generally omit whole chapters, or
passages, at a time, and, where they are not for the moment doing this, or
writing the connecting phrases necessary to repair their mischief, they are
often quite faithful to their originals. Since they do not, in general,
attribute anything to their author that is not his, no objection can be
taken, on moral grounds, to their proceeding, though, in actual fact, the
results are not always happy. Their ends were purely practical and
devotional and they made no attempt to pass their compendia as full-length
transcriptions.

With regard to the Spiritual Canticle and the Living Flame of Love, of each
of which there are two redactions bearing indisputable marks of the
authors own hand, the classification of the copies will naturally depend
upon which redaction each copy the more nearly follows. This question will
be discussed in the necessary detail in the introduction to each of these
works, and to the individual introductions to the four major treatises we
must refer the reader for other details of the manuscripts. In the present
pages we have attempted only a general account of these matters. It remains
to add that our divisions of each chapter into paragraphs follow the
manuscripts throughout except where indicated. The printed editions, as we
shall see, suppressed these divisions, but, apart from their value to the
modern reader, they are sufficiently nearly identical in the various copies
to form one further testimony to their general high standard of reliability.

IV

INTEGRITY OF THE SAINTS WORK INCOMPLETE CONDITION OF THE˜ASCENT AND
THE˜NIGHT DISPUTED QUESTIONS

The principal lacuna in St. John of the Crosss writings, and, from the
literary standpoint, the most interesting, is the lack of any commentary to
the last five stanzas [27] of the poem˜Dark Night. Such a commentary is
essential to the completion of the plan which the Saint had already traced
for himself in what was to be, and, in spite of its unfinished condition, is
in fact, his most rigorously scientific treatise.˜All the doctrine, he
wrote in the Argument of the Ascent,˜whereof I intend to treat in this
Ascent of Mount Carmel is included in the following stanzas, and in them is
also described the manner of ascending to the summit of the Mount, which is
the high estate of perfection which we here call union of the soul with
God. This leaves no doubt but that the Saint intended to treat the mystical
life as one whole, and to deal in turn with each stage of the road to
perfection, from the beginnings of the Purgative Way to the crown and summit
of the life of Union. After showing the need for such a treatise as he
proposes to write, he divides the chapters on Purgation into four parts
corresponding to the Active and Passive nights of Sense and of Spirit.
These, however, correspond only to the first two stanzas of his poem; they
are not, as we shall shortly see, complete, but their incompleteness is
slight compared with that of the work as a whole.

Did St. John of the Cross, we may ask, ever write a commentary on those last
five stanzas, which begin with a description of the state of Illumination:

˜Twas that light guided me, More surely than the noondays brightest glare

and end with that of the life of Union:

All things for me that day Ceasd, as I slumberd there, Amid the lilies
drowning all my care?

If we suppose that he did, we are faced with the question of its fate and
with the strange fact that none of his contemporaries makes any mention of
such a commentary, though they are all prolific in details of far less
importance.

Conjectures have been ventured on this question ever since critical methods
first began to be applied to St. John of the Crosss writings. A great deal
was written about it by P. AndrÃ©s de la EncarnaciÃ³n, to whom his superiors
entrusted the task of collecting and editing the Saints writings, and whose
findings, though they suffer from the defects of an age which from a modern
standpoint must be called unscientific, and need therefore to be read with
the greatest caution, are often surprisingly just and accurate. P. AndrÃ©s
begins by referring to various places where St. John of the Cross states
that he has treated certain subjects and proposes to treat others, about
which nothing can be found in his writings. This, he says, may often be due
to an oversight on the writers part or to changes which new experiences
might have brought to his mode of thinking. On the other hand, there are
sometimes signs that these promises have been fulfilled: the sharp
truncation of the argument, for example, at the end of Book III of the
Ascent suggests that at least a few pages are missing, in which case the
original manuscript must have been mutilated, [28] for almost all the extant
copies break off at the same word. It is unthinkable, as P. AndrÃ©s says,
that the Saintshould have gone on to write the Night without completing
the Ascent, for all these five books [29] are integral parts of one whole,
since they all treat of different stages of one spiritual path. [30]

It may be argued in the same way that St. John of the Cross would not have
gone on to write the commentaries on the˜Spiritual Canticle and the
˜Living Flame of Love without first completing the Dark Night. P. AndrÃ©s
goes so far as to say that the very unwillingness which the Saint displayed
towards writing commentaries on the two latter poems indicates that he had
already completed the others; otherwise, he could easily have excused
himself from the later task on the plea that he had still to finish the
earlier.

Again, St. John of the Cross declares very definitely, in the prologue to
the Dark Night, that, after describing in the commentary on the first two
stanzas the effects of the two passive purgations of the sensual and the
spiritual part of man, he will devote the six remaining stanzas to
expounding˜various and wondrous effects of the spiritual illumination and
union of love with God. Nothing could be clearer than this. Now, in the
commentary on the˜Living Flame, argues P. AndrÃ©s, he treats at
considerable length of simple contemplation and adds that he has written
fully of it in several chapters of the Ascent and the Night, which he names;
but not only do we not find the references in two of the chapters enumerated
by him, but he makes no mention of several other chapters in which the
references are of considerable fullness. The proper deductions from these
facts would seem to be, first, that we do not possess the Ascent and the
Night in the form in which the Saint wrote them, and, second, that in the
missing chapters he referred to the subject under discussion at much greater
length than in the chapters we have.

Further, the practice of St. John of the Cross was not to omit any part of
his commentaries when for any reason he was unable or unwilling to write
them at length, but rather to abbreviate them. Thus, he runs rapidly through
the third stanza of the Night and through the fourth stanza of the Living
Flame: we should expect him in the same way to treat the last three stanzas
of the Night with similar brevity and rapidity, but not to omit them
altogether.

Such are the principal arguments used by P. AndrÃ©s which have inclined many
critics to the belief that St. John of the Cross completed these treatises.
Other of his arguments, which to himself were even more convincing, have now
lost much weight. The chief of these are the contention that, because a
certain Fray AgustÃn AntolÃnez (b. 1554), in expounding these same poems,
makes no mention of the Saints having failed to expound five stanzas of the
Night, he did therefore write an exposition of them; [31] and the
supposition that the Living Flame was written before the Spiritual Canticle,
and that therefore, when the prologue to the Living Flame says that the
author has already described the highest state of perfection attainable in
this life, it cannot be referring to the Canticle and must necessarily
allude to passages, now lost, from the Dark Night. [32]

Our own judgment upon this much debated question is not easily delivered. On
the one hand, the reasons why St. John of the Cross should have completed
his work are perfectly sound ones and his own words in the Ascent and the
Dark Night are a clear statement of his intentions. Furthermore, he had
ample time to complete it, for he wrote other treatises at a later date and
he certainly considered the latter part of the Dark Night to be more
important than the former. On the other hand, it is disconcerting to find
not even the briefest clear reference to this latter part in any of his
subsequent writings, when both the Living Flame and the Spiritual Canticle
offered so many occasions for such a reference to an author accustomed to
refer his readers to his other treatises. Again, his contemporaries, who
were keenly interested in his work, and mention such insignificant things as
the Cautions, the Maxims and the˜Mount of Perfection, say nothing whatever
of the missing chapters. None of his biographers speaks of them, nor does P.
Alonso de la Madre de Dios, who examined the Saints writings in detail
immediately after his death and was in touch with his closest friends and
companions. We are inclined, therefore, to think that the chapters in
question were never written. [33] Is not the following sequence of probable
facts the most tenable? We know from P. Juan Evangelista that the Ascent and
the Dark Night were written at different times, with many intervals of short
or long duration. The Saint may well have entered upon the Spiritual
Canticle, which was a concession to the affectionate importunity of M. Ann
de JesÃºs, with every intention of returning later to finish his earlier
treatise. But, having completed the Canticle, he may equally well have been
struck with the similarity between a part of it and the unwritten commentary
on the earlier stanzas, and this may have decided him that the Dark Night
needed no completion, especially as the Living Flame also described the life
of Union. This hypothesis will explain all the facts, and seems completely
in harmony with all we know of St. John of the Cross, who was in no sense,
as we have already said, a writer by profession. If we accept it, we need
not necessarily share the views which we here assume to have been his. Not
only would the completion of the Dark Night have given us new ways of
approach to so sublime and intricate a theme, but this would have been
treated in a way more closely connected with the earlier stages of the
mystical life than was possible in either the Living Flame or the Canticle.

We ought perhaps to notice one further supposition of P. AndrÃ©s, which has
been taken up by a number of later critics: that St. John of the Cross
completed the commentary which we know as the Dark Night, but that on
account of the distinctive nature of the contents of the part now lost he
gave it a separate title. [34] The only advantage of this theory seems to be
that it makes the hypothesis of the loss of the commentary less improbable.
In other respects it is as unsatisfactory as the theory of P. AndrÃ©s, [35]
of which we find a variant in M. Baruzi, [36] that the Saint thought the
commentary too bold, and too sublime, to be perpetuated, and therefore
destroyed it, or, at least, forbade its being copied. It is surely unlikely
that the sublimity of these missing chapters would exceed that of the
Canticle or the Living Flame.

This seems the most suitable place to discuss a feature of the works of St.
John of the Cross to which allusion is often made the little interest
which he took in their division into books and chapters and his lack of
consistency in observing such divisions when he had once made them. A number
of examples may be cited. In the first chapter of the Ascent of Mount
Carmel, using the words˜part and˜book as synonyms, he makes it clear
that the Ascent and the Dark Night are to him one single treatise.˜The
first night or purgation, he writes,˜is of the sensual part of the soul,
which is treated in the present stanza, and will be treated in the first
part of this book. And the second is of the spiritual part; of this speaks
the second stanza, which follows; and of this we shall treat likewise, in
the second and the third part, with respect to the activity of the soul; and
in the fourth part, with respect to its passivity. [37] The authors
intention here is evident. Purgation may be sensual or spiritual, and each
of these kinds may be either active or passive. The most logical proceeding
would be to divide the whole of the material into four parts or books: two
to be devoted to active purgation and two to passive. [38] St. John of the
Cross, however, devotes two parts to active spiritual purgation one to
that of the understanding and the other to that of the memory and the will.
In the Night, on the other hand, where it would seem essential to devote one
book to the passive purgation of sense and another to that of spirit, he
includes both in one part, the fourth. In the Ascent, he divides the content
of each of his books into various chapters; in the Night, where the argument
is developed like that of the Ascent, he makes a division into paragraphs
only, and a very irregular division at that, if we may judge by the copies
that have reached us. In the Spiritual Canticle and the Living Flame he
dispenses with both chapters and paragraphs. The commentary on each stanza
here corresponds to a chapter.

Another example is to be found in the arrangement of his expositions. As a
rule, he first writes down the stanzas as a whole, then repeats each in turn
before expounding it, and repeats each line also in its proper place in the
same way. At the beginning of each treatise he makes some general
observations in the form either of an argument and prologue, as in the
Ascent; of a prologue and general exposition, as in the Night; of a prologue
alone, as in the first redaction of the Canticle and in the Living Flame; or
of a prologue and argument, as in the second redaction of the Canticle. In
the Ascent and the Night, the first chapter of each book contains the
˜exposition of the stanzas, though some copies describe this, in Book III
of the Ascent, as an˜argument. In the Night, the book dealing with the
Night of Sense begins with the usual˜exposition; that of the Night of the
Spirit, however, has nothing to correspond with it.

In the first redaction of the Spiritual Canticle, St. John of the Cross
first sets down the poem, then a few lines of˜exposition giving the
argument of the stanza, and finally the commentary upon each line. Sometimes
he comments upon two or three lines at once. In the second redaction, he
prefaces almost every stanza with an˜annotation, of which there is none in
the first redaction except before the commentary on the thirteenth and
fourteenth stanzas. The chief purpose of the˜annotation is to link the
argument of each stanza with that of the stanza preceding it; occasionally
the annotation and the exposition are combined.

It is clear from all this that, in spite of his orderly mind, St. John of
the Cross was no believer in strict uniformity in matters of arrangement
which would seem to demand such uniformity once they had been decided upon.
They are, of course, of secondary importance, but the fact that the
inconsistencies are the work of St. John of the Cross himself, and not
merely of careless copyists, who have enough else to account for, is of real
moment in the discussion of critical questions which turn on the Saints
accuracy.

Another characteristic of these commentaries is the inequality of length as
between the exposition of certain lines and stanzas. While some of these are
dealt with fully, the exposition of others is brought to a close with
surprising rapidity, even though it sometimes seems that much more needs to
be said: we get the impression that the author was anxious to push his work
forward or was pressed for time. He devotes fourteen long chapters of the
Ascent to glossing the first two lines of the first stanza and dismisses the
three remaining lines in a few sentences. In both the Ascent and the Night,
indeed, the stanzas appear to serve only as a pretext for introducing the
great wealth of ascetic and mystical teaching which the Saint has gathered
together. In the Canticle and the Living Flame, on the other hand, he keeps
much closer to his stanzas, though here, too, there is a considerable
inequality. One result of the difference in nature between these two pairs
of treatises is that the Ascent and the Night are more solidly built and
more rigidly doctrinal, whereas in the Canticle and the Flame there is more
movement and more poetry.

V

HISTORY OF THE PUBLICATION OF ST. JOHN OF THE CROSSS WRITINGS THE FIRST
EDITION

It seems strange that mystical works of such surpassing value should not
have been published till twenty-seven years after their authors death, for
not only were the manuscript copies insufficient to propagate them as widely
as those who made them would have desired, but the multiplication of these
copies led to an ever greater number of variants in the text. Had it but
been possible for the first edition of them to have been published while
their author still lived, we might to-day have a perfect text. But the
probability is that, if such an idea had occurred to St. John of the Cross,
he would have set it aside as presumptuous. In allowing copies to be made he
doubtless never envisaged their going beyond the limited circle of his
Order.

We have found no documentary trace of any project for an edition of these
works during their authors lifetime. The most natural time for a discussion
of the matter would have been in September 1586, when the Definitors of the
Order, among whom was St. John of the Cross, met in Madrid and decided to
publish the works of St. Teresa. [39] Two years earlier, when he was writing
the Spiritual Canticle, St. John of the Cross had expressed a desire for the
publication of St. Teresas writings and assumed that this would not be long
delayed. [40] As we have seen, he considered his own works as complementary
to those of St. Teresa, [41] and one would have thought that the
simultaneous publication of the writings of the two Reformers would have
seemed to the Definitors an excellent idea.

After his death, it is probable that there was no one at first who was both
able and willing to undertake the work of editor; for, as is well known,
towards the end of his life the Saint had powerful enemies within his Order
who might well have opposed the project, though, to do the Discalced Reform
justice, it was brought up as early as ten years after his death. A
resolution was passed at the Chapter-General of the Reform held in September
1601, to the effect˜that the works of Fr. Juan de la Cruz be printed and
that the Definitors, Fr. Juan de JesÃºs MarÃa and Fr. TomÃ¡s [de JesÃºs], be
instructed to examine and approve them. [42] Two years later (July 4,
1603), the same Chapter, also meeting in Madrid,˜gave leave to the
Definitor, Fr. TomÃ¡s [de JesÃºs], for the printing of the works of Fr. Juan
de la Cruz, first friar of the Discalced Reform. [43]

It is not known (since the Chapter Book is no longer extant) why the matter
lapsed for two years, but Fr. TomÃ¡s de JesÃºs, the Definitor to whom alone it
was entrusted on the second occasion, was a most able man, well qualified to
edit the works of his predecessor. [44] Why, then, we may wonder, did he not
do so? The story of his life in the years following the commission may
partly answer this question. His definitorship came to an end in 1604, when
he was elected Prior of the˜desert of San JosÃ© de las Batuecas. After
completing the customary three years in this office, during which time he
could have done no work at all upon the edition, he was elected Prior of the
Discalced house at Zaragoza. But at this point Paul V sent for him to Rome
and from that time onward his life followed other channels.

The next attempt to accomplish the project was successful. The story begins
with a meeting between the Definitors of the Order and Fr. JosÃ© de JesÃºs
MarÃa, the General, at VÃ©lez-MÃ¡laga, where a new decision to publish the
works of St. John of the Cross was taken and put into effect (as a later
resolution has it)˜without any delay or condition whatsoever. [45] The
enterprise suffered a setback, only a week after it had been planned, in the
death of the learned Jesuit P. SuÃ¡rez, who was on terms of close friendship
with the Discalced and had been appointed one of the censors. But P. Diego
de JesÃºs (Salablanca), Prior of the Discalced house at Toledo, to whom its
execution was entrusted, lost no time in accomplishing his task; indeed, one
would suppose that he had begun it long before, since early in the next year
it was completed and published in AlcalÃ¡. The volume, entitled Spiritual
Works which lead a soul to perfect union with God, has 720 pages and bears
the date 1618. The works are preceded by a preface addressed to the reader
and a brief summary of the authors˜life and virtues. An engraving of the
˜Mount of Perfection is included. [46]

There are several peculiarities about this editio princeps. In the first
place, although the pagination is continuous, it was the work of two
different printers; the reason for this is quite unknown, though various
reasons might be suggested. The greatest care was evidently taken so that
the work should be well and truly approved: it is recommended, in terms of
the highest praise, by the authorities of the University of AlcalÃ¡, who, at
the request of the General of the Discalced Carmelites, had submitted it for
examination to four of the professors of that University. No doubt for
reasons of safety, the Spiritual Canticle was not included in that edition:
it was too much like a commentary on the Song of Songs for such a proceeding
to be just then advisable.

We have now to enquire into the merits of the edition of P. Salablanca,
which met with such warm approval on its publication, yet very soon
afterwards began to be recognized as defective and is little esteemed for
its intrinsic qualities to-day.

It must, of course, be realized that critical standards in the early
seventeenth century were low and that the first editor of St. John of the
Cross had neither the method nor the available material of the twentieth
century. Nor were the times favourable for the publication of the works of a
great mystic who attempted fearlessly and fully to describe the highest
stages of perfection on the road to God. These two facts are responsible for
most of the defects of the edition.

For nearly a century, the great peril associated with the mystical life had
been that of Illuminism, a gross form of pseudo-mysticism which had claimed
many victims among the holiest and most learned, and of which there was such
fear that excessive, almost unbelievable, precautions had been taken against
it. These precautions, together with the frequency and audacity with which
Illuminists invoked the authority and protection of well-known contemporary
ascetic and mystical writers, give reality to P. Salablancas fear lest the
leaders of the sect might shelter themselves behind the doctrines of St.
John of the Cross and so call forth the censure of the Inquisition upon
passages which seemed to him to bear close relation to their erroneous
teaching. It was for this definite reason, and not because of an arbitrary
meticulousness, that P. Salablanca omitted or adapted such passages as those
noted in Book I, Chapter viii of the Ascent of Mount Carmel and in a number
of chapters in Book II. A study of these, all of which are indicated in the
footnotes to our text, is of great interest.

Less important are a large number of minor corrections made with the
intention of giving greater precision to some theological concept; the
omission of lines and even paragraphs which the editor considered redundant,
as in fact they frequently are; and corrections made with the aim of lending
greater clearness to the argument or improving the style. A few changes were
made out of prudery: such are the use of sensitivo for sensual, the
suppression of phrases dealing with carnal vice and the omission of several
paragraphs from that chapter of the Dark Night which speaks of the third
deadly sin of beginners. There was little enough reason for these changes:
St. John of the Cross is particularly inoffensive in his diction and may,
from that point of view, be read by a child.

The sum total of P. Salablancas mutilations is very considerable. There are
more in the Ascent and the Living Flame than in the Dark Night; but hardly a
page of the editio princeps is free from them and on most pages they abound.
It need not be said that they are regrettable. They belong to an age when
the garments of dead saints were cut up into small fragments and distributed
among the devout and when their cells were decked out with indifferent taste
and converted into oratories. It would not have been considered sufficient
had the editor printed the text of St. John of the Cross as he found it and
glossed it to his liking in footnotes; another editor would have put
opposite interpretations upon it, thus cancelling out the work of his
predecessor. Even the radical mutilations of P. Salablanca did not suffice,
as will now be seen, to protect the works of the Saint from the Inquisition.

VI

DENUNCIATION OF THE˜WORKS TO THE INQUISITION DEFENCE OF THEM MADE BY
FR. BASILO PONCE DE LEÃ“N EDITIONS OF THE SEVENTEENTH AND EIGHTEENTH
CENTURIES

Neither the commendations of University professors nor the scissors of a
meticulous editor could save the treatises of St. John of the Cross from
that particular form of attack which, more than all others, was feared in
the seventeenth century. We shall say nothing here of the history, nature
and procedure of the Spanish Inquisition, which has had its outspoken
antagonists and its unreasoning defenders but has not yet been studied with
impartiality. It must suffice to set down the facts as they here affect our
subject.

Forty propositions, then, were extracted from the edition of 1618 and
presented to the Holy Office for condemnation with the object of causing the
withdrawal of the edition from circulation. The attempt would probably have
succeeded but for the warm, vigorous and learned defence put up by the
Augustinian Fray Basilio Ponce de LeÃ³n, a theological professor in the
University of Salamanca and a nephew of the Luis de LeÃ³n who wrote the Names
of Christ and took so great an interest in the works of St. Teresa. [47]

It was in the very convent of San Felipe in Madrid where thirty-five years
earlier Fray Luis had written his immortal eulogy of St. Teresa [48] that
Fray Basilio, on July 11, 1622, signed a most interesting˜Reply to the
objections which had been raised to the AlcalÃ¡ edition of St. John of the
Cross. Although we propose, in our third volume, to reproduce Fray
Basilios defence, it is necessary to our narrative to say something of it
here, for it is the most important of all extant documents which reveal the
vicissitudes in the history of the Saints teaching.

Before entering upon an examination of the censured propositions, the
learned Augustinian makes some general observations, which must have carried
great weight as coming from so high a theological authority. He recalls the
commendations of the edition by the professors of the University of AlcalÃ¡
˜where the faculty of theology is so famous, and by many others, including
several ministers of the Holy Office and two Dominicans who˜without dispute
are among the most learned of their Order. Secondly, he refers to the
eminently saintly character of the first friar of the Discalced Reform:˜it
is not to be presumed that God would set a man whose teaching is so evil
. . . as is alleged, to be the comer-stone of so great a building. Thirdly,
he notes how close a follower was St. John of the Cross of St. Teresa, a
person who was singularly free from any taint of unorthodoxy. And finally he
recalls a number of similar attacks on works of this kind, notably that on
Laredos Ascent of Mount Sion, [49] which have proved to be devoid of
foundation, and points out that isolated˜propositions need to be set in
their context before they can be fairly judged.

Fray Basilio next refutes the charges brought against the works of St. John
of the Cross, nearly all of which relate to his teaching on the passivity of
the faculties in certain degrees of contemplation. Each proposition he
copies and afterwards defends, both by argument and by quotations from the
Fathers, from the medieval mystics and from his own contemporaries. It is
noteworthy that among these authorities he invariably includes St. Teresa,
who had been beatified in 1614, and enjoyed an undisputed reputation. This
inclusion, as well as being an enhancement of his defence, affords a
striking demonstration of the unity of thought existing between the two
great Carmelites.

Having expounded the orthodox Catholic teaching in regard to these matters,
and shown that the teaching of St. John of the Cross is in agreement with
it, Fray Basilio goes on to make clear the true attitude of the Illuminists
and thus to reinforce his contentions by showing how far removed from this
is the Saints doctrine.

Fray Basilios magnificent defence of St. John of the Cross appears to have
had the unusual effect of quashing the attack entirely: the excellence of
his arguments, backed by his great authority, was evidently unanswerable. So
far as we know, the Inquisition took no proceedings against the AlcalÃ¡
edition whatsoever. Had this at any time been prohibited, we may be sure
that Llorente would have revealed the fact, and, though he refers to the
persecution of St. John of the Cross during his lifetime, [50] he is quite
silent about any posthumous condemnation of his writings.

The editio princeps was reprinted in 1619, with a different pagination and a
few corrections, in Barcelona. [51] Before these two editions were out of
print, the General of the Discalced Carmelites had entrusted an able
historian of the Reform, Fray JerÃ³nimo de San JosÃ©, with the preparation of
a new one. This was published at Madrid, in 1630. It has a short
introduction describing its scope and general nature, a number of new and
influential commendations and an admirable fifty-pagesketch of St. John
of the Cross by the editor which has been reproduced in most subsequent
editions and has probably done more than any other single work to make known
the facts of the Saints biography. The great feature of this edition,
however, is the inclusion of the Spiritual Canticle, placed (by an error, as
a printers note explains) at the end of the volume, instead of before the
Living Flame, which is, of course, its proper position.

The inclusion of the Canticle is one of the two merits that the editor
claims for his new edition. The other is that he˜prints both the Canticle
and the other works according to their original manuscripts, written in the
hand of the same venerable author. This claim is, of course, greatly
exaggerated, as what has been said above with regard to the manuscripts will
indicate. Not only does Fray JerÃ³nimoappear to have had no genuine original
manuscript at all, but of the omissions of the editio princeps it is
doubtful if he makes good many more than one in a hundred. In fact, with
very occasional exceptions, he merely reproduces the princeps omissions,
interpolations, well-meant improvements and all. [52]

In Fray JerÃ³nimos defence it must be said that the reasons which moved his
predecessor to mutilate his edition were still potent, and the times had not
changed. It is more surprising that for nearly three centuries the edition
of 1630 should have been followed by later editors. The numerous versions of
the works which saw the light in the later seventeenth and the eighteenth
century added a few poems, letters and maxims to the corpus of work which he
presented and which assumed great importance as the Saint became better
known and more deeply venerated. But they did no more. It suffices,
therefore, to enumerate the chief of them.

The Barcelona publisher of the 1619 edition produced a new edition in 1635,
which is a mere reproduction of that of 1630. A Madrid edition of 1649,
which adds nine letters, a hundred maxims and a small collection of poems,
was reproduced in 1672 (Madrid), 1679 (Madrid), 1693 (Barcelona) and 1694
(Madrid), the last reproduction being in two volumes. An edition was also
published in Barcelona in 1700.

If we disregard a˜compendium of the Saints writings published in Seville
in 1701, the first eighteenth-century edition was published in Seville in
1703 the most interesting of those that had seen the light since 1630. It
is well printed on good paper in a folio volume and its editor, Fr. AndrÃ©s
de JesÃºs MarÃa, claims it, on several grounds, as an advance on preceding
editions. First, he says,˜innumerable errors of great importance have been
corrected in it; then, the Spiritual Canticle has been amended according to
its original manuscript˜in the hand of the same holy doctor, our father,
kept and venerated in our convent of Discalced Carmelite nuns at JaÃ©n;
next, he adds two new poems and increases the number of maxims from 100 to
365; and lastly, the letters are increased from nine to seventeen, all of
which are found in P. JerÃ³nimo de San JosÃ©s history. The first of these
claims is as great an exaggeration as was P. JerÃ³nimos; to the second we
shall refer in our introduction to the Spiritual Canticle. The third and
fourth, however, are justified, and for these, as for a few minor
improvements, the editor deserves every commendation.

The remaining years of the eighteenth century produced few editions; apart
from a reprint (1724) of the compendium of 1701, the only one known to us is
that published at Pamplona in 1774, after which nearly eighty years were to
pass before any earlier edition was so much as reprinted. Before we resume
this bibliographical narrative, however, we must go back over some earlier
history.

VII

NEW DENUNCIATIONS AND DEFENCES FRAY NICOLÃS DE JESÃšS MARÃA THE
CARMELITE SCHOOL AND THE INQUISITION

We remarked, apropos of the edition of 1630, that the reasons which led Fray
Diego de JesÃºs to mutilate his texts were still in existence when Fray
JerÃ³nimo de San JosÃ© prepared his edition some twelve years later. If any
independent proof of this statement is needed, it may be found in the
numerous apologias that were published during the seventeenth century, not
only in Spain, but in Italy, France, Germany and other countries of Europe.
If doctrines are not attacked, there is no occasion to write vigorous
defences of them.

Following the example of Fray Basilio Ponce de LeÃ³n, a professor of theology
in the College of the Reform at Salamanca, Fray NicholÃ¡s de JesÃºs MarÃa,
wrote a learned Latin defence of St. John of the Cross in 1631, often
referred to briefly as the Elucidatio. [53] It is divided into two parts,
the first defending the Saint against charges of a general kind that were
brought against his writings, and the second upholding censured propositions
taken from them. On the general ground, P. NicholÃ¡s reminds his readers that
many writers who now enjoy the highest possible reputation were in their
time denounced and unjustly persecuted. St. Jerome was attacked for his
translation of the Bible from Hebrew into Latin; St. Augustine, for his
teaching about grace and free-will. The works of St. Gregory the Great were
burned at Rome; those of St. Thomas Aquinas at Paris. Most mediaeval and
modern mystics have been the victims of persecution Ruysbroeck, Tauler and
even St. Teresa. Such happenings, he maintains, have done nothing to lessen
the eventual prestige of these authors, but rather have added to it.

Nor, he continues, can the works of any author fairly be censured, because
misguided teachers make use of them to propagate their false teaching. No
book has been more misused by heretics than Holy Scripture and few books of
value would escape if we were to condemn all that had been so treated.
Equally worthless is the objection that mystical literature is full of
difficulties which may cause the ignorant and pusillanimous to stumble.
Apart from the fact that St. John of the Cross is clearer and more lucid
than most of his contemporaries, and that therefore the works of many of
them would have to follow his own into oblivion, the same argument might
again be applied to the Scriptures. Who can estimate the good imparted by
the sacred books to those who read them in a spirit of uprightness and
simplicity? Yet what books are more pregnant with mystery and with truths
that are difficult and, humanly speaking, even inaccessible?

But (continues P. NicolÃ¡s), even if we allow that parts of the work of St.
John of the Cross, for all the clarity of his exposition, are obscure to the
general reader, it must be remembered that much more is of the greatest
attraction and profit to all. On the one hand, the writings of the Saint
represent the purest sublimation of Divine love in the pilgrim soul, and are
therefore food for the most advanced upon the mystic way. On the other,
every reader, however slight his spiritual progress, can understand the
Saints ascetic teaching: his chapters on the purgation of the senses,
mortification, detachment from all that belongs to the earth, purity of
conscience, the practice of the virtues, and so on. The Saints greatest
enemy is not the obscurity of his teaching but the inflexible logic with
which he deduces, from the fundamental principles of evangelical perfection,
the consequences which must be observed by those who would scale the Mount.
So straight and so hard is the road which he maps out for the climber that
the majority of those who see it are at once dismayed.

These are the main lines of P. NicolÃ¡s argument, which he develops at great
length. We must refer briefly to the chapter in which he makes a careful
synthesis of the teaching of the Illuminists, to show how far it is removed
from that of St. John of the Cross. He divides these false contemplatives
into four classes. In the first class he places those who suppress all their
acts, both interior and exterior, in prayer. In the second, those who give
themselves up to a state of pure quiet, with no loving attention to God. In
the third, those who allow their bodies to indulge every craving and
maintain that, in the state of spiritual intoxication which they have
reached, they are unable to commit sin. In the fourth, those who consider
themselves to be instruments of God and adopt an attitude of complete
passivity, maintaining also that they are unable to sin, because God alone
is working in them. The division is more subtle than practical, for the
devotees of this sect, with few exceptions, professed the same erroneous
beliefs and tended to the same degree of licence in their conduct. But, by
isolating these tenets, P. NicolÃ¡s is the better able to show the antithesis
between them and those of St. John of the Cross.

In the second part of the Elucidatio, he analyses the propositions already
treated by Fray Basilio Ponce de LeÃ³n, reducing them to twenty and dealing
faithfully with them in the same number of chapters. His defence is clear,
methodical and convincing and follows similar lines to those adopted by Fray
Basilio, to whom its author acknowledges his indebtedness.

Another of St. John of the Crosss apologists is Fray JosÃ© de JesÃºs MarÃa
(Quiroga), who, in a number of his works, [54] both defends and eulogizes
him, without going into any detailed examination of the propositions. Fray
JosÃ© is an outstanding example of a very large class of writers, for, as
Illuminism gave place to Quietism, the teaching of St. John of the Cross
became more and more violently impugned and almost all mystical writers of
the time referred to him. Perhaps we should single out, from among his
defenders outside the Carmelite Order, that Augustinian father, P.
AntolÃnez, to whose commentary on three of the Saints works we have already
made reference.

As the school of mystical writers within the Discalced Carmelite Reform
gradually grew a school which took St. John of the Cross as its leader and
is one of the most illustrious in the history of mystical theology it
began to share in the same persecution as had befallen its founder. It is
impossible, in a few words, to describe this epoch of purgation, and indeed
it can only be properly studied in its proper context the religious
history of the period as a whole. For our purpose, it suffices to say that
the works of St. John of the Cross were once more denounced to the
Inquisition, though, once more, no notice appears to have been taken of the
denunciations, for there exists no record ordering the expurgation or
prohibition of the books referred to. The Elucidatio was also denounced,
together with several of the works of P. JosÃ© de JesÃºs MarÃa, at various
times in the seventeenth century, and these attacks were of course
equivalent to direct attacks on St. John of the Cross. One of the most
vehement onslaughts made was levelled against P. JosÃ©s Subida del Alma a
Dios (˜Ascent of the Soul to God), which is in effect an elaborate
commentary on St. John of the Crosss teaching. The Spanish Inquisition
refusing to censure the book, an appeal against it was made to the
Inquisition at Rome. When no satisfaction was obtained in this quarter, P.
JosÃ©s opponents went to the Pope, who referred the matter to the Sacred
Congregation of the Index; but this body issued a warm eulogy of the book
and the matter thereupon dropped.

In spite of such defeats, the opponents of the Carmelite school continued
their work into the eighteenth century. In 1740, a new appeal was made to
the Spanish Inquisition to censure P. JosÃ©s Subida. A document of
seventy-three folios denounced no less than one hundred and sixty-five
propositions which it claimed to have taken direct from the work referred
to, and this time, after a conflict extending over ten years, the book
(described as˜falsely attributed to P. JosÃ© [55] ) was condemned (July 4,
1750), as˜containing doctrine most perilous in practice, and propositions
similar and equivalent to those condemned in Miguel de Molinos.

We set down the salient facts of this controversy, without commenting upon
them, as an instance of the attitude of the eighteenth century towards the
mystics in general, and, in particular, towards the school of the Discalced
Carmelites. In view of the state and tendencies of thought in these times,
the fact of the persecution, and the degree of success that it attained, is
not surprising. The important point to bear in mind is that it must be taken
into account continually by students of the editions of the Saints writings
and of the history of his teaching throughout the eighteenth and nineteenth
centuries.

VIII

FURTHER HISTORY OF THE EDITIONS P. ANDRÃ‰S DE LA ENCARNACIÃ“N EDITIONS OF
THE NINETEENTH AND TWENTIETH CENTURIES

What has just been said will fully explain the paucity of the editions of
St. John of the Cross which we find in the eighteenth century. This century,
however, was, scientifically speaking, one of great progress. Critical
methods of study developed and became widespread; and there was a great
desire to obtain purer and more nearly perfect texts and to discover the
original sources of the ideas of great thinkers. These tendencies made
themselves felt within the Discalced Carmelite Order, and there also arose a
great ambition to republish in their original forms the works both of St.
Teresa and of St. John of the Cross. The need was greater in the latter case
than in the former; so urgent was it felt to be as to admit of no delay.
˜There have been discovered in the works [of St. John of the Cross], says a
document of about 1753,˜many errors, mutilations and other defects the
existence of which cannot be denied. [56] The religious who wrote thus to
the Chapter-General of the Reform set out definite and practical schemes for
a thorough revision of these works, which were at once accepted. There thus
comes into our history that noteworthy friar, P. AndrÃ©s de la EncarnaciÃ³n,
to whom we owe so much of what we know about the Saint to-day. P. AndrÃ©s was
no great stylist, nor had he the usual Spanish fluency of diction. But he
was patient, modest and industrious, and above all he was endowed with a
double portion of the critical spirit of the eighteenth century. He was
selected for the work of investigation as being by far the fittest person
who could be found for it. A decree dated October 6, 1754 ordered him to set
to work. As a necessary preliminary to the task of preparing a corrected
text of the Saints writings, he was to spare no effort in searching for
every extant manuscript; accordingly he began long journeys through La
Mancha and Andalusia, going over all the ground covered by St. John of the
Cross in his travels and paying special attention to the places where he had
lived for any considerable period. In those days, before the religious
persecutions of the nineteenth century had destroyed and scattered books and
manuscripts, the archives of the various religious houses were intact. P.
AndrÃ©s and his amanuensis were therefore able to copy and collate valuable
manuscripts now lost to us and they at once began to restore the phrases and
passages omitted from the editions. Unhappily, their work has disappeared
and we can judge of it only at second hand; but it appears to have been in
every way meritorious. So far as we can gather from the documents which have
come down to us, it failed to pass the rigorous censorship of the Order. In
other words, the censors, who were professional theologians, insisted upon
making so many corrections that the Superiors, who shared the enlightened
critical opinions of P. AndrÃ©s, thought it better to postpone the
publication of the edition indefinitely.

The failure of the project, however, to which P. AndrÃ©s devoted so much
patient labour, did not wholly destroy the fruits of his skill and
perseverance. He was ordered to retire to his priory, where he spent the
rest of his long life under the burden of a trial the magnitude of which any
scholar or studiously minded reader can estimate. He did what he could in
his seclusion to collect, arrange and recopy such notes of his work as he
could recover from those to whom they had been submitted. His defence of
this action to the Chapter-General is at once admirable in the tranquillity
of its temper and pathetic in the eagerness and affection which it displays
for the task that he has been forbidden to continue:

Inasmuch as I was ordered, some years ago . . . to prepare an exact
edition of the works of our holy father, and afterwards was commanded to
suspend my labours for just reasons which presented themselves to these
our fathers and prevented its accomplishment at the time, I obeyed
forthwith with the greatest submissiveness, but, as I found that I had a
rich store of information which at some future time might contribute to
the publication of a truly illustrious and perfect edition, it seemed to
me that I should not be running counter to the spirit of the Order if I
gave it some serviceable form, so that I should not be embarrassed by
seeing it in a disorderly condition if at some future date it should be
proposed to carry into effect the original decisions of the Order. With
humility and submissiveness, therefore, I send to your Reverences these
results of my private labours, not because it is in my mind that the work
should be recommended, or that, if this is to be done, it should be at any
particular time, for that I leave to the disposition of your Reverences
and of God, but to the end that I may return to the Order that which
belongs to it; for, since I was excused from religious observances for
nearly nine years so that I might labour in this its own field, the Order
cannot but have a right to the fruits of my labours, nor can I escape the
obligation of delivering what I have discovered into its hand. . . . [57]

We cannot examine the full text of the interesting memorandum to the Censors
which follows this humble exordium. One of their allegations had been that
the credit of the Order would suffer if it became known that passages of the
Saints works had been suppressed by Carmelite editors. P. AndrÃ©s makes the
sage reply:˜There is certainly the risk that this will become known if the
edition is made; but there is also a risk that it will become known in any
case. We must weigh the risks against each other and decide which proceeding
will bring the Order into the greater discredit if one of them
materializes. He fortifies this argument with the declaration that the
defects of the existing editions were common knowledge outside the Order as
well as within it, and that, as manuscript copies of the Saints works were
also in the possession of many others than Carmelites, there was nothing to
prevent a correct edition being made at any time. This must suffice as a
proof that P. AndrÃ©s could be as acute as he was submissive.

Besides collecting this material, and leaving on record his opposition to
the short-sighted decision of the Censors, P. AndrÃ©s preparedsome
Disquisitions on the writings of the Saint, which, if a more skilful hand
should correct and improve their style, cannot but be well received.
Closely connected with the Disquisitions are the Preludes in which he
glosses the Saints writings. These studies, like the notes already
described, have all been lost no doubt, together with many other documents
from the archives of the Reform in Madrid, they disappeared during the
pillaging of the religious houses in the early nineteenth century.

The little of P. AndrÃ©s work that remains to us gives a clear picture of
the efforts made by the Reform to bring out a worthy edition of St. John of
the Crosss writings in the eighteenth century; it is manifestly
insufficient, however, to take a modern editor far along the way. Nor, as we
have seen, are his judgments by any means to be followed otherwise than with
the greatest caution; he greatly exaggerates, too, the effect of the
mutilations of earlier editors, no doubt in order to convince his superiors
of the necessity for a new edition. The materials for a modern editor are to
be found, not in the documents left by P. AndrÃ©s, but in such Carmelite
archives as still exist, and in the National Library of Spain, to which many
Carmelite treasures found their way at the beginning of the last century.

The work sent by P. AndrÃ©s to his superiors was kept in the archives of the
Discalced Carmelites, but no new edition was prepared till a hundred and
fifty years later. In the nineteenth century such a task was made
considerably more difficult by religious persecution; which resulted in the
loss of many valuable manuscripts, some of which P. AndrÃ©s must certainly
have examined. For a time, too, the Orders were expelled from Spain, and, on
their return, had neither the necessary freedom, nor the time or material
means, for such undertakings. In the twenty-seventh volume of the well-known
series of classics entitled Biblioteca de Autores EspaÃ±oles (1853) the works
of St. John of the Cross were reprinted according to the 1703 edition,
without its engravings, indices and commendations, and with a˜critical
estimate of the Saint by Pi y Margall, which has some literary value but in
other respects fails entirely to do justice to its subject.

Neither the Madrid edition of 1872 nor the Barcelona edition of 1883 adds
anything to our knowledge and it was not till the Toledo edition of 1912“14
that a new advance was made. This edition was the work of a young Carmelite
friar, P. Gerardo de San Juan de la Cruz, who died soon after its
completion. It aims, according to its title, which is certainly justified,
at being˜the most correct and complete edition of all that have been
published down to the present date. If it was not as successful as might
have been wished, this could perhaps hardly have been expected of a
comparatively inexperienced editor confronted with so gigantic a task a
man, too, who worked almost alone and was by temperament and predilection an
investigator rather than a critic. Nevertheless, its introductions,
footnotes, appended documents, and collection of apocryphal works of the
Saint, as well as its text, were all considered worthy of extended study and
the edition was rightly received with enthusiasm. Its principal merit will
always lie in its having restored to their proper places, for the first time
in a printed edition, many passages which had theretofore remained in
manuscript.

We have been anxious that this new edition [Burgos, 1929“31] should
represent a fresh advance in the task of establishing a definitive text of
St. John of the Crosss writings. For this reason we have examined, together
with two devoted assistants, every discoverable manuscript, with the result,
as it seems to us, that both the form and the content of our authors works
are as nearly as possible as he left them.

In no case have we followed any one manuscript exclusively, preferring to
assess the value of each by a careful preliminary study and to consider each
on its merits, which are described in the introduction to each of the
individual works. Since our primary aim has been to present an accurate
text, our footnotes will be found to be almost exclusively textual. The only
edition which we cite, with the occasional exception of that of 1630, is the
princeps, from which alone there is much to be learned. The Latin quotations
from the Vulgate are not, of course, given except where they appear in the
manuscripts, and, save for the occasional correction of a copyists error,
they are reproduced in exactly the form in which we have found them.
Orthography and punctuation have had perforce to be modernized, since the
manuscripts differ widely and we have so few autographs that nothing
conclusive can be learned of the Saints own practice. [58]
_________________________________________________________________

[3] [H., III, ii.]

[4] M. Magdalena is a very reliable witness, for she was not only a most
discreet and able woman, but was also one of those who were very near to the
saint and gained most from his spiritual direction. The quotation is from
MS. 12,944.

[5] MS. 12,738, fol. 835. Ft. JerÃ³nimo de S. JosÃ©, too, says that the nuns
of Toledo also copied certain poems from the Saints dictation. M. Ana de S.
Alberto heard him say of his imprisonment:˜God sought to try me, but His
mercy forsook me not. I made some stanzas there which begin:œWhither hast
vanishd, Beloved; and also those other verses, beginningœFar above the
many rivers That in Babylon abound. All these verses 1 sent to Fray JosÃ© de
JesÃºs MarÃa, who told me that he was interested in them and was keeping them
in his memory in order to write them out.

[6] [H., III, ii.]

[7] MS. 12,944.˜He also occasionally wrote spiritual things that were of
great benefit. There, too, he composed the Mount and drew a copy with his
own hand for each of our breviaries; later, he added to these copies and
made some changes.

[8] [See, on this term, S.S.M., II, 282, and Catholic Encyclopedia, sub.
˜Carmelites.]

[9] Fray Martin de San JosÃ© in MS. 12,738, fol. 125.

[10] [H., IV, i.]

[11] MS. 12,738, fol. 1,431. The letter is undated as to the year.

[12] MS. 12,738, fol. 1,435.

[13] MS. 12,738, fol. 3. Cf. a letter of April 28, 1614, by the same friar
(ibid., fol. 865), which describes the Saints knowledge of the Holy
Scriptures, and skill in expounding them, as˜inspired and˜Divine.

[14] Ibid., fol. 18.

[15] JerÃ³nimo de la Cruz (ibid., fol. 639) describes the Saint on his
journeys as˜frequently reading the Bible as he went along on his
˜beast.

[16] MS. 12,738, fol. 559. P. Alonso writes similarly in a letter to Fray
JerÃ³nimo de San JosÃ©:˜And in this matter of speaking of God and expounding
passages from Scripture he made everyone marvel, for they never asked him
about a passage which he could not explain in great detail, and sometimes at
recreation the whole hour and much more went by in the explanation of
passages about which they asked him (fol. 1,431).

[17] Ibid., fol. 847.

[18] [Cf. S.S.M., II, 123“48.]

[19] Vida, Bk. IV, Chap. xiv, 1.

[20] [On this subject cf. P. CrisÃ³gono de JesÃºs Sacramentado: San Juan de la
Cruz, Madrid, 1929, Vol. II, pp. 17-34 et passim.]

[21] On Flemish influences on Spanish mysticism, see P. Groult: Les
Mystiques des Pays-Bas et la littÃ©rature espagnole du seiziÃ¨me siÃ¨cle,
Louvain, 1927 [, and JoaquÃn Sanchis Alventosa, O.F.M.: La Escuela mÃstica
alemana y sus relaciones con nuestros mÃsticos del Siglo de Oro, Madrid,
1946].

[22] Cf. S.S.M., I (1927), 33“76, 291“405; (1951), 25-61, 235“328; II
(1930), 309“43.]

[23] One well-known example will be found in the commentary on the
˜Spiritual Canticle, Chap. xii (cf. V below).

[24] MS. 12,738, fol. 639.

[25] To these we shall refer in the third volume of this edition.

[26] If any single person could have spoken from knowledge of this matter it
would be P. Alonso de la Madre de Dios, as all papers connected with St.
John of the Cross passed through his hands and he took hundreds of
depositions in connection with the Beatification process. His statements,
however (MS. 19,404, fol. 176 [P. Silverio, I, 179]), are as vague as any
others. Rather more reliable are the Saints two early biographers, P. JosÃ©
de JesÃºs MarÃa (Quiroga) and P. JerÃ³nimo de San JosÃ©. The former states in
one place that he is using an autograph on the Ascent of Mount Carmel, but
again it seems likely that he was mistaken, since the archives of the Reform
were still intact in the next century and no genuine autograph of any length
was found in them.

[27] [The commentary on the third stanza is begun in ii, xxv of Dark Night.
If this be not counted, the number of stanzas left uncommented is six.]

[28] This is not so unlikely as it may seem, for the early manuscripts were
all either unbound, or very roughly stitched together, and several of the
extant copies have leaves missing. It was not till the time of the
Beatification Process that greater care began to be taken of the Saints
writings, and they were bound strongly and even luxuriously.

[29] I.e., the three books of the Ascent and the two of the Night.

[30] MS. 3,180, AdiciÃ³n B.

[31] It would be natural enough, of course, for Fray AgustÃn AntolÃnez to
have noted this fact, but, as he makes no mention of St. John of the Cross
at all, nothing can be safely inferred from his silence. It may be added
that Fray AgustÃns commentary is to be published by the Spanish
Augustinians [and that P. Silverio (I, 190“3) gives a specimen of it which
shows how well it deserves publication].

[32] As we shall later see, the Living Flame was written after the first
redaction of the Spiritual Canticle, but before the second redaction, which
mentions the Living Flame in the exposition of Stanza XXXI, thus misleading
P. AndrÃ©s as to its date. There is no doubt, in our mind, that the reference
in the preface to the Living Flame is to the Canticle: the description fits
it exactly.

[33] [P. Silverios words are:˜For my own part, I think it very probable
that he never composed them. I myself give a little less weight to the
negative evidence brought forward, and, though I too am inclined to the
negative solution, I should hold the scales between the two rather more
evenly.]

[34] If this were so, we might even hazard a guess that the title was that
given in the Living Flame (I, 21) and not exactly applicable to any of the
existing treatises, viz. The Dark Night of the Ascent of Mount Carmel.

[35] Memorias Historiales, C. 1 3.

[36] Saint Jean de la Croix, pp. 1 3“15.

[37] Cf. Ascent, I, i, below.

[38] Some manuscripts do in fact divide the treatise in this way; but apart
from the fact that we have the authority of St. John of the Cross himself,
in the passage just quoted (confirmed in Ascent, I, xiii), for a different
division, the Alcaudete MS., which we believe to be the most reliable,
follows the division laid down by the Saint. We may add that St. John of the
Cross is not always a safe guide in these matters, no doubt because he
trusted too much to his memory; in Ascent, II, xi, for example, he calls the
fourth book the third.

[39] [H., V, iii.]

[40] Spiritual Canticle, Stanza XII, 6 [Second Redaction, XIII, 7].

[41] In the same passage as that referred to in the last note he declares
his intention of not repeating what she has said (cf. General Introduction,
III, above ).

[42] Our authority for this statement is P. Andres de la EncarnaciÃ³n
(Memorias Historiales, B. 32), who found the Chapter Book in the General
Archives of the Reform at Madrid.

[43] Op. cit. (B. 33).

[44] [For a study of TomÃ¡s de JesÃºs, see S.S.M., II, 281“306.]

[45] Memorias Historiales, B. 35.

[46] Cf. General Introduction, I, above.

[47] [Cf. S.S.M., I (1927), 291“344; (1951), 235“79. An abridged English
edition of the Names of Christ, translated by a Benedictine of Stanbrook,
was published by Messrs. Burns Oates and Washbourne in 1926.]

[48] [Cf. S.S.M., I (1927), 295“6; (1951), 240.]

[49] [Cf. S.S.M., II, 41“76.]

[50] Historia crÃtica de la InquisiciÃ³n de EspaÃ±a, Vol. V, Chap. xxx, and
elsewhere. [The original of this work is in French: Histoire critique de
lInquisition dEspagÃ±e, 1817“18.]

[51] Here we have a curious parallelism with the works of St. Teresa, first
published at Salamanca in 1588 and also reprinted in Barcelona in the year
following.

[52] He also supplies the Latin text of Scriptural quotations which St. John
of the Cross gives in the vernacular, corrects the punctuation and spelling
of the princeps and substitutes his˜Sketch of the Saints life for the
biographical notes of that edition. The treatise in which he corrects most
of the defects of the princeps is the Ascent of Mount Carmel.

[53] Phrasium mysticae Theologiae V.P. Fr. Joannis a Cruce, Carmelitarum
excalceatorum Parentis primi elucidatio. Compluti, 1631.

[54] Subida del Alma a Dios; ApologÃa mÃstica en defensa de la contemplaciÃ³n
divina; Don que tuvo San Juan de la Cruz para guiar las almas, etc.

[55] This phrase, no doubt, was inserted in order to save the reputation of
P. JosÃ©s earlier supporters, and out of respect to his uncle, who had been
a Cardinal and Inquisitor-General.

[56] Quoted by P. AndrÃ©s de la EncarnaciÃ³n (MS. 3,653, Previo 1).

[57] MS. 3,653, Previo 1.

[58] [The last two paragraphs form P. Silverios description of his own
edition. The lines followed in the present translation have been described
in the Translators Preface.]
_________________________________________________________________

ASCENT OF MOUNT CARMEL

INTRODUCTION

AS will be seen from the biographical outline which we have given of the
life of St. John of the Cross, this was the first of the Saints treatises
to be written; it was begun at El Calvario, and, after various intervals,
due to the authors preoccupation with the business of government and the
direction and care of souls, was completed at Granada.

The treatise presents a remarkable outline of Christian perfection from the
point at which the soul first seeks to rise from the earth and soar upward
towards union with God. It is a work which shows every sign of careful
planning and great attention to detail, as an ascetic treatise it is
noteworthy for its detailed psychological analysis; as a contribution to
mystical theology, for the skill with which it treats the most complicated
and delicate questions concerning the Mystic Way.

Both the great Carmelite reformers pay close attention to the early stages
of the mystical life, beyond which many never pass, and both give the
primacy to prayer as a means of attaining perfection. To St. Teresa prayer
is the greatest of all blessings of this life, the channel through which all
the favours of God pass to the soul, the beginning of every virtue and the
plainly marked highroad which leads to the summit of Mount Carmel. She can
hardly conceive of a person in full spiritual health whose life is not one
of prayer. Her coadjutor in the Carmelite Reform writes in the same spirit.
Prayer, for St. John of the Cross as for St. Teresa, is no mere exercise
made up of petition and meditation, but a complete spiritual life which
brings in its train all the virtues, increases all the souls potentialities
and may ultimately lead to˜deification or transformation in God through
love. It may be said that the exposition of the life of prayer, from its
lowest stages to its highest, is the common aim of these two Saints, which
each pursues and accomplishes in a peculiarly individual manner.

St. John of the Cross assumes his reader to be familiar with the rudiments
of the spiritual life and therefore omits detailed description of the most
elementary of the exercises incumbent upon all Christians. The plan of the
Ascent of Mount Carmel (which, properly speaking, embraces its sequel, the
Dark Night) follows the lines of the poem with the latter title (p. 10).
Into two stanzas of five lines each, St. John of the Cross has condensed all
the instruction which he develops in this treatise. In order to reach the
Union of Light, the soul must pass through the Dark Night that is to say,
through a series of purifications, during which it is walking, as it were,
through a tunnel of impenetrable obscurity and from which it emerges to bask
in the sunshine of grace and to enjoy the Divine intimacy.

Through this obscurity the thread which guides the soul is that of
˜emptiness or˜negation. Only by voiding ourselves of all that is not God
can we attain to the possession of God, for two contraries cannot co-exist
in one individual, and creature-love is darkness, while God is light, so
that from any human heart one of the two cannot fail to drive out the other.
[59]

Now the soul, according to the Saints psychology, is made up of interior
and exterior senses and of the faculties. All these must be free from
creature impurities in order to be prepared for Divine union. The necessary
self-emptying may be accomplished in two ways: by our own efforts, with the
habitual aid of grace, and by the action of God exclusively, in which the
individual has no part whatsoever. Following this order, the Ascent is
divided into two parts, which deal respectively with the˜Active night and
the˜Passive. Each of these parts consists of several books. Since the soul
must be purified in its entirety, the Active Night is logically divided into
the Night of Sense and the Night of the Spirit; a similar division is
observed in treating of the Passive Night. One book is devoted to the Active
Night of Sense; two are needed for the Active Night of the Spirit.
Unhappily, however, the treatise was never finished; not only was its author
unable to take us out of the night into the day, as he certainly intended to
do, but he has not even space to describe the Passive Night in all the
fullness of its symbolism.

A brief glance at the outstanding parts of the Ascent of Mount Carmel will
give some idea of its nature. The first obstacle which the pilgrim soul
encounters is the senses, upon which St. John of the Cross expends his
analytical skill in Book I. Like any academic professor (and it will be
recalled that he had undergone a complete university course at Salamanca),
he outlines and defines his subject, goes over the necessary preliminary
ground before expounding it, and treats it, in turn, under each of its
natural divisions. He tells us, that is to say, what he understands by the
˜dark night; describes its causes and its stages; explains how necessary it
is to union with God; enumerates the perils which beset the soul that enters
it; and shows how all desires must be expelled,˜however small they be, if
the soul is to travel through it safely. Finally he gives a complete
synthesis of the procedure that must be adopted by the pilgrim in relation
to this part of his journey: the force of this is intensified by those
striking maxims and distichs which make Chapter xiii of Book I so memorable.

The first thirteen chapters of the Ascent are perhaps the easiest to
understand (though they are anything but easy to put into practice) in the
entire works of St. John of the Cross. They are all a commentary on the very
first line of the poem. The last two chapters of the first book glance at
the remaining lines, rather than expound them, and the Saint takes us on at
once to Book II, which expounds the second stanza and enters upon the Night
of the Spirit.

Here the Saint treats of the proximate means to union with God namely,
faith. He uses the same careful method of exposition, showing clearly how
faith is to the soul as a dark night, and how, nevertheless, it is the
safest of guides. A parenthetical chapter (v) attempts to give some idea of
the nature of union, so that the reader may recognize from afar the goal to
which he is proceeding. The author then goes on to describe how the three
theological virtues faith, hope and charity must˜void and dispose for
union the three faculties of the soul understanding, memory and will.

He shows how narrow is the way that leads to life and how nothing that
belongs to the understanding can guide the soul to union. His illustrations
and arguments are far more complicated and subtle than are those of the
first book, and give the reader some idea of his knowledge, not only of
philosophy and theology, but also of individual souls. Without this last
qualification he could never have written those penetrating chapters on the
impediments to union above all, the passages on visions, locutions and
revelations nor must we overlook his description (Chapter xiii) of the
three signs that the soul is ready to pass from meditation to contemplation.
It may be doubted if in its own field this second book has ever been
surpassed. There is no mystic who gives a more powerful impression than St.
John of the Cross of an absolute mastery of his subject. No mistiness,
vagueness or indecision clouds his writing: he is as clear-cut and definite
as can be.

In his third book St. John of the Cross goes on to describe the obstacles to
union which come from the memory and the will. Unlike St. Thomas, he
considered the memory as a distinct and separate faculty of the soul. Having
written, however, at such length of the understanding, he found it possible
to treat more briefly of that other faculty, which is so closely related to
it. [60] Fourteen chapters (ii-xv) describe the dark night to be traversed
by the memory; thirty (xvi-xlv) the passage of the will, impelled by love.
[61] The latter part is the more strikingly developed. Four passions joy,
hope, sorrow and fear invade the will, and may either encompass the
souls perdition, or, if rightly directed, lead it to virtue and union. Once
more St. John of the Cross employs his profound familiarity with the human
soul to turn it away from peril and guide it into the path of safety. Much
that he says, in dealing with passions so familiar to us all, is not only
purely ascetic, but is even commonplace to the instructed Christian. Yet
these are but parts of a greater whole.

Of particular interest, both intrinsically and as giving a picture of the
Saints own times, are the chapters on ceremonies and aids to devotion the
use of rosaries, medals, pilgrimages, etc. It must be remembered, of course,
that he spent most of his active life in the South of Spain, where
exaggerations of all kinds, even to-day, are more frequent than in the more
sober north. In any case there is less need, in this lukewarm age, to warn
Christians against the abuse of these means of grace, and more need,
perhaps, to urge them to employ aids that will stimulate and quicken their
devotion.

In the seventeenth chapter of this third book, St. John of the Cross
enumerates thesix kinds of good which can give rise to rejoicing and sets
down his intention of treating each of them in turn. He carries out his
purpose, but, on entering his last division, subdivides it at considerable
length and subsequently breaks off with some brusqueness while dealing with
one of these sub-heads, just as he is introducing another subject of
particular interest historically namely, pulpit methods considered from
the standpoint of the preacher. In all probability we shall never know what
he had to say about the hearers of sermons, or what were his considered
judgments on confessors and penitents though of these judgments he has
left us examples elsewhere in this treatise, as well as in others.

We cannot estimate of how much the sudden curtailment of the Ascent of Mount
Carmel has robbed us. [62] Orderly as was the mind of St. John of the Cross,
he was easily carried away in his expositions, which are apt to be unequal.
No one would have suspected, for example, that, after going into such length
in treating the first line of his first stanza, he would make such short
work of the remaining four. Nor can we disregard the significance of his
warning that much of what he had written on the understanding was applicable
also to the memory and the will. He may, therefore, have been nearer the end
of his theme than is generally supposed. Yet it is equally possible that
much more of his subtle analysis was in store for his readers. Any
truncation, when the author is a St. John of the Cross, must be considered
irreparable.
_________________________________________________________________

[59] Ascent, Bk. III, Chap. ii.

[60] Ascent, Bk. III, Chap. iii, 1.

[61] Cf. Ascent, Bk. III, Chap. xvi, 1“2.

[62] [On the question of the curtailment of the Ascent, see Sobrino, pp.
159“66.]
_________________________________________________________________

THE MANUSCRIPTS [63]

Unfortunately there is no autograph of this treatise extant, though there
are a number of early copies, some of which have been made with great care.
Others, for various reasons, abbreviate the original considerably. The MSS.
belonging to both classes will be enumerated.

Alba de Tormes. The Discalced Carmelite priory of Alba de Tormes has a codex
which contains the four principal treatises of St. John of the Cross
(Ascent, Dark Night, Spiritual Canticle and Living Flame). This codex
belonged from a very early date (perhaps from a date not much later than
that of the Saints death) to the family of the Duke of Alba, which was
greatly devoted to the Discalced Carmelite Reform and to St. Teresa, its
foundress. It remained in the family until the beginning of the eighteenth
century, when it came into the hands of a learned Carmelite, Fray Alonso de
la Madre de Dios, who presented it to the Alba monastery on April 15, 1705.
The details of this history are given by Fray Alonso himself in a note
bearing this date.

For over half a century the MS. was believed to be an autograph, partly, no
doubt, on account of its luxurious binding and the respect paid to the noble
house whence it came. In February 1761, however, it was examined carefully
by P. Manuel de Santa MarÃa, who, by his Superiors orders, was assisting P.
AndrÃ©s de la EncarnaciÃ³n in his search for, and study of, manuscripts of the
Saints writings. P. Manuel soon discovered that the opinion commonly held
was erroneous greatly, it would seem, to the disillusionment of his
contemporaries. Among the various reasons which he gives in a statement
supporting his conclusions is that in two places the author is described as
santo a proof not only that the MS. is not an autograph but also that
the copyist had no intention of representing it as such.

Although this copy is carefully made and richly bound which suggests that
it was a gift from the Reform to the house of Alba it contains many
errors, of a kind which indicate that the copyist, well educated though he
was, knew little of ascetic or mystical theology. A number of omissions,
especially towards the end of the book, give the impression that the copy
was finished with haste and not compared with the original on its
completion. There is no reason, however, to suppose that the errors and
omissions are ever intentional; indeed, they are of such a kind as to
suggest that the copyist had not the skill necessary for successful
adulteration.

MS. 6,624. This copy, like the next four, is in N.L.M. [National Library of
Spain, Madrid], and contains the same works as that of Alba de Tormes. It
was made in 1755, under the direction of P. AndrÃ©s de la EncarnaciÃ³n, from a
manuscript, now lost, which was venerated by the Benedictines of Burgos:
this information is found at the end of the volume. P. AndrÃ©s had evidently
a good opinion of the Burgos MS., as he placed this copy in the archives of
the Discalced Reform, whence it passed to the National Library early in the
nineteenth century.

As far as the Ascent is concerned, this MS. is very similar to that of Alba.
With a few notable exceptions, such as the omission of the second half of
Book I, Chapter iv, the errors and omissions are so similar as to suggest a
definite relationship, if not a common source.

MS. 13,498. This MS., which gives us the Ascent and the Dark Night, also
came from the Archives of the Reform and is now in the National Library. The
handwriting might be as early as the end of the sixteenth century. The
author did not attempt to make a literal transcription of the Ascent, but
summarized where he thought advisable, reducing the number of chapters and
abbreviating many of them this last not so much by the method of
paraphrase as by the free omission of phrases and sentences.

MS. 2,201. This, as far as the Ascent is concerned, is an almost literal
transcription of the last MS., in a seventeenth-century hand; it was bound
in the eighteenth century, when a number of other treatises were added to
it, together with some poems by St. John of the Cross and others. The
variants as between this MS. and 13,498 are numerous, but of small
importance, and seem mainly to have been due to carelessness.

MS. 18,160. This dates from the end of the sixteenth century and contains
the four treatises named above, copied in different hands and evidently
intended to form one volume. Only the first four chapters of the Ascent are
given, together with the title and the first three lines of the fifth
chapter. The transcription is poorly done.

MS. 13,507. An unimportant copy, containing only a few odd chapters of the
Ascent and others from the remaining works of St. John of the Cross and
other writers.

Pamplona. A codex in an excellent state of preservation is venerated by the
Discalced Carmelite nuns of Pamplona. It was copied, at the end of the
sixteenth century, by a Barcelona Carmelite, M. Magdalena de la AsunciÃ³n,
and contains a short summary of the four treatises enumerated above, various
poems by St. John of the Cross and some miscellaneous writings. The Ascent
is abbreviated to the same extent as in 13,498 and 2,201 and by the same
methods; many chapters, too, are omitted in their entirety.

Alcaudete. This MS., which contains the Ascent only, was copied by St. John
of the Crosss close friend and companion, P. Juan Evangelista, as a
comparison with manuscripts (N.L.M., 12,738) written in his well-known and
very distinctive hand, puts beyond all doubt. P. Juan, who took the habit of
the Reform at Christmas 1582, knew the Saint before this date; was professed
by him at Granada in 1583; accompanied him on many of his journeys; saw him
write most of his books; and, as his close friend and confessor, was
consulted repeatedly by his biographers. [64] It is natural that he should
also have acted as the Saints copyist, and, in the absence of autographs,
we should expect no manuscripts to be more trustworthy than copies made by
him. Examination of this MS. shows that it is in fact highly reliable. It
corrects none of those unwieldy periods in which the Saints work abounds,
and which the editio princeps often thought well to amend, nor, like the
early editions and even some manuscripts, does it omit whole paragraphs and
substitute others for them. Further, as this copy was being made solely for
the use of the Order, no passages are omitted or altered in it because they
might be erroneously interpreted as illuministic. It is true that P. Juan
Evangelista is not, from the technical standpoint, a perfect copyist, but,
frequently as are his slips, they are always easy to recognize.

The Alcaudete MS. was found in the Carmelite priory in that town by P.
AndrÃ©s de la EncarnaciÃ³n, who first made use of it for his edition. When the
priory was abandoned during the religious persecutions of the early
nineteenth century, the MS. was lost. Nearly a hundred years passed before
it was re-discovered by P. Silverio de Santa Teresa in a second-hand
bookshop [and forms a most important contribution to that scholars edition,
which normally follows it]. It bears many signs of frequent use; eleven
folios are missing from the body of the MS. (corresponding approximately to
Book III, Chapters xxii to xxvi) and several more from its conclusion.

In the footnotes to the Ascent, the following abbreviations are used:

A = MS. of the Discalced Carmelite Friars of Alba.

Alc. = Alcaudete MS.

B = MS. of the Benedictines of Burgos.

C = N.L.M., MS. 13,498.

D = N.L.M., MS. 2,201.

P = MS. of the Discalced Carmelite Nuns of Pamplona.

E.p. = Editio princeps (AlcalÃ¡, 1618).

Other editions or manuscripts cited are referred to without abbreviation.
_________________________________________________________________

[63] [On MSS. not described by P. Silverio, see Ephemerides Carmeliticae,
Florence, 1950, IV, 95“148, and in particular p. 103, n. 9. As the variants
and annotations in these MSS. will be of interest only to specialists, and
few of them can be reproduced in a translation, those who wish to study them
are referred to that article.]

[64] [H, sub Juan Evangelista (2)]
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ASCENT OF MOUNT CARMEL

Treats of how the soul may prepare itself in order to attain in a short time
to Divine union. Gives very profitable counsels and instruction, both to
beginners and to proficients, that they may know how to disencumber
themselves of all that is temporal and not to encumber themselves with the
spiritual, and to remain in complete detachment and liberty of spirit, as is
necessary for Divine union.
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ARGUMENT

ALL the doctrine whereof I intend to treat in this Ascent of Mount Carmel is
included in the following stanzas, and in them is also described the manner
of ascending to the summit of the Mount, which is the high estate of
perfection which we here call union of the soul with God. And because I must
continually base upon them that which I shall say, I have desired to set
them down here together, to the end that all the substance of that which is
to be written may be seen and comprehended together; although it will be
fitting to set down each stanza separately before expounding it, and
likewise the lines of each stanza, according as the matter and the
exposition require. The poem, then, runs as follows: [65]
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[65] [Lit.:˜It says, then, thus.]
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STANZAS [66]

Wherein the soul sings of the happy chance which it had in passing through
the dark night of faith, in detachment and purgation of itself, to union
with the Beloved.

1. On a dark night, Kindled [67] in love with yearnings oh, happy chance!

I went forth without being observed, My house being now at rest. [68]

2. In darkness and secure, By the secret ladder, disguised oh, happy
chance!

In darkness and in concealment, My house being now at rest.

3. In the happy night, In secret, when none saw me,

Nor I beheld aught, Without light or guide, save that which burned in my
heart.

4. This light guided me More surely than the light of noonday,

To the place where he (well I knew who!) was awaiting me A place where
none appeared.

5. Oh, night that guided me, Oh, night more lovely than the dawn,

Oh, night that joined Beloved with lover, Lover transformed in the Beloved!

6. Upon my flowery breast, Kept wholly for himself alone,

There he stayed sleeping, and I caressed him, And the fanning of the cedars
made a breeze.

7. The breeze blew from the turret As I parted his locks;

With his gentle hand he wounded my neck And caused all my senses to be
suspended.

8. I remained, lost in oblivion; [69] My face I reclined on the Beloved.

All ceased and I abandoned myself, Leaving my cares forgotten among the
lilies.
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[66] For a verse translation in the metre of the original, see Vol. II.

[67] [The adjectives are feminine throughout.]

[68] [The word translated˜at rest is a past participle: more literally,
˜stilled.]

[69] [Lit.:˜I remained and forgot.]
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PROLOGUE

IN order to expound and describe this dark night, through which the soul
passes in order to attain to the Divine light of the perfect union of the
love of God, as far as is possible in this life, it would be necessary to
have illumination of knowledge and experience other and far greater than
mine; for this darkness and these trials, both spiritual and temporal,
through which happy souls are wont to pass in order to be able to attain to
this high estate of perfection, are so numerous and so profound that neither
does human knowledge suffice for the understanding of them, nor experience
for the description of them; for only he that passes this way can understand
it, and even he cannot describe it.

2. Therefore, in order to say a little about this dark night, I shall trust
neither to experience nor to knowledge, since both may fail and deceive;
but, while not omitting to make such use as I can of these two things, I
shall avail myself, in all that, with the Divine favour, I have to say, or
at the least, in that which is most important and dark to the understanding,
of Divine Scripture; for, if we guide ourselves by this, we shall be unable
to stray, since He Who speaks therein is the Holy Spirit. And if aught I
stray, whether through my imperfect understanding of that which is said in
it or of matters uncollected with it, it is not my intention to depart from
the sound sense and doctrine of our Holy Mother the Catholic Church; for in
such a case I submit and resign myself wholly, not only to her command, but
to whatever better judgment she may pronounce concerning it.

3. To this end I have been moved, not by any possibility that I see in
myself of accomplishing so arduous a task, but by the confidence which I
have in the Lord that He will help me to say something to relieve the great
necessity which is experienced by many souls, who, when they set out upon
the road of virtue, and Our Lord desires to bring them into this dark night
that they may pass through it to Divine union, make no progress. At times
this is because they have no desire to enter it or to allow themselves to be
led into it; at other times, because they understand not themselves and lack
competent and alert directors [70] who will guide them to the summit. And so
it is sad to see many souls to whom God gives both aptitude and favour with
which to make progress (and who, if they would take courage, could attain to
this high estate), remaining in an elementary stage [71] of communion with
God, for want of will, or knowledge, or because there is none who will lead
them in the right path or teach them how to get away from these beginnings.
And at length, although Our Lord grants them such favour as to make them to
go onward without this hindrance or that, they arrive at their goal very
much later, and with greater labour, yet with less merit, because they have
not conformed themselves to God, and allowed themselves to be brought freely
into the pure and sure road of union. For, although it is true that God is
leading them, and that He can lead them without their own help, they will
not allow themselves to be led; and thus they make less progress, because
they resist Him Who is leading them, and they have less merit, because they
apply not their will, and on this account they suffer more. For these are
souls who, instead of committing themselves to God and making use of His
help, rather hinder God by the indiscretion of their actions or by their
resistance; like children who, when their mothers desire to carry them in
their arms, start stamping and crying, and insist upon being allowed to
walk, with the result that they can make no progress; and, if they advance
at all, it is only at the pace of a child.

4. Wherefore, to the end that all, whether beginners or proficients, may
know how to commit themselves to Gods guidance, when His Majesty desires to
lead them onward, we shall give instruction and counsel, by His help, so
that they may be able to understand His will, or, at the least, allow Him to
lead them. For some confessors and spiritual fathers, having no light and
experience concerning these roads, are wont to hinder and harm such souls
rather than to help them on the road; they are like the builders of Babel,
who, when told to furnish suitable material, gave and applied other very
different material, because they understood not the language, and thus
nothing was done. Wherefore, it is a difficult and troublesome thing at such
seasons for a soul not to understand itself or to find none who understands
it. For it will come to pass that God will lead the soul by a most lofty
path of dark contemplation and aridity, wherein it seems to be lost, and,
being thus full of darkness and trials, constraints and temptations, will
meet one who will speak to it like Jobs comforters, and say that it is
suffering from melancholy, or low spirits, or a morbid disposition, or that
it may have some hidden sin, and that it is for this reason that God has
forsaken it. Such comforters are wont to declare immediately that that soul
must have been very evil, since such things as these are befalling it.

5. And there will likewise be those who tell the soul to retrace its steps,
since it is finding no pleasure or consolation in the things of God as it
did aforetime. And in this way they double the poor souls trials; for it
may well be that the greatest affliction which it is feeling is that of the
knowledge of its own miseries, thinking that it sees itself, more clearly
than daylight, to be full of evils and sins, for God gives it that light of
knowledge in that night of contemplation, as we shall presently show. And,
when the soul finds someone whose opinion agrees with its own, and who says
that these things must be due to its own fault, its affliction and trouble
increase infinitely and are wont to become more grievous than death. And,
not content with this, such confessors, thinking that these things proceed
from sin, make these souls go over their lives and cause them to make many
general confessions, and crucify them afresh; not understanding that this
may quite well not be the time for any of such things, and that their
penitents should be left in the state of purgation which God gives them, and
be comforted and encouraged to desire it until God be pleased to dispose
otherwise; for until that time, no matter what the souls themselves may do
and their confessors may say, there is no remedy for them.

6. This, with the Divine favour, we shall consider hereafter, and also how
the soul should conduct itself at such a time, and how the confessor must
treat it, and what signs there will be whereby it may be known if this is
the purgation of the soul; and, in such case, whether it be of sense or of
spirit (which is the dark night whereof we speak), and how it may be known
if it be melancholy or some other imperfection with respect to sense or to
spirit. For there may be some souls who will think, or whose confessors will
think, that God is leading them along this road of the dark night of
spiritual purgation, whereas they may possibly be suffering only from some
of the imperfections aforementioned. And, again, there are many souls who
think that they have no aptitude for prayer, when they have very much; and
there are others who think that they have much when they have hardly any.

7. There are other souls who labour and weary themselves to a piteous
extent, and yet go backward, seeking profit in that which is not profitable,
but is rather a hindrance; and there are still others who, by remaining at
rest and in quietness, continue to make great progress. There are others who
are hindered and disturbed and make no progress, because of the very
consolations and favours that God is granting them in order that they may
make progress. And there are many other things on this road that befall
those who follow it, both joys and afflictions and hopes and griefs: some
proceeding from the spirit of perfection and others from imperfection. Of
all these, with the Divine favour, we shall endeavour to say something, so
that each soul who reads this may be able to see something of the road that
he ought to follow, if he aspire to attain to the summit of this Mount.

8. And, since this introduction relates to the dark night through which the
soul must go to God, let not the reader marvel if it seem to him somewhat
dark also. This, I believe, will be so at the beginning when he begins to
read; but, as he passes on, he will find himself understanding the first
part better, since one part will explain another. And then, if he read it a
second time, I believe it will seem clearer to him and the instruction will
appear sounder. And if any persons find themselves disagreeing with this
instruction, it will be due to my ignorance and poor style; for in itself
the matter is good and of the first importance. But I think that, even were
it written in a more excellent and perfect manner than it is, only the
minority would profit by it, for we shall not here set down things that are
very moral and delectable [72] for all spiritual persons who desire to
travel toward God by pleasant and delectable ways, but solid and substantial
instruction, as well suited to one kind of person as to another, if they
desire to pass to the detachment of spirit which is here treated.

9. Nor is my principal intent to address all, but rather certain persons of
our sacred Order of Mount Carmel of the primitive observance, both friars
and nuns since they have desired me to do so to whom God is granting the
favour of setting them on the road to this Mount; who, as they are already
detached from the temporal things of this world, will better understand the
instruction concerning detachment of spirit.
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[70] [Lit.˜and wideawake guides.]

[71] [Lit.,˜a low manner.]

[72] Needless to say, the Saint does not here mean that he will not write in
conformity with moral standards no writer is more particular in this
respect nor that he will deal with no delectable matters at all, but
rather that he will go to the very roots of spiritual teaching and expound
thesolid and substantial instruction, which not only forms its basis but
also leads the soul toward the most intimate union with God in love.
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BOOK THE FIRST

Wherein is described the nature of dark night and how necessary it is to
pass through it to Divine union; and in particular this book describes the
dark night of sense, and desire, and the evils which these work in the soul.
[73]
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[73] The Codices give neither title nor sub-title: both were inserted in
e.p. [˜Desire is to be taken as the direct object of˜describes;˜these
refers tosense and˜desire, not to the dark night.]
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CHAPTER I

Sets down the first stanza. Describes two different nights through which
spiritual persons pass, according to the two parts of man, the lower and the
higher. Expounds the stanza which follows.

Stanza The First

On a dark night, Kindled in love with yearnings oh, happy chance!

I went forth without being observed, My house being now at rest.

In this first stanzas the soul sings of the happy fortune and chance which
it experienced in going forth from all things that are without, and from the
desires [74] and imperfections that are in the sensual [75] part of man
because of the disordered state of his reason. For the understanding of this
it must be known that, for a soul to attain to the state of perfection, it
has ordinarily first to pass through two principal kinds of night, which
spiritual persons call purgations or purifications of the soul; and here we
call them nights, for in both of them the soul journeys, as it were, by
night, in darkness.

2. The first night or purgation is of the sensual part of the soul, which is
treated in the present stanza, and will be treated in the first part of this
book. And the second is of the spiritual part; of this speaks the second
stanza, which follows; and of this we shall treat likewise, in the second
and the third part, [76] with respect to the activity of the soul; and in
the fourth part, with respect to its passitivity.

3. And this first night pertains to beginners, occurring at the time when
God begins to bring them into the state of contemplation; in this night the
spirit likewise has a part, as we shall say in due course. And the second
night, or purification, pertains to those who are already proficient,
occurring at the time when God desires to bring them to the state of union
with God. And this latter night is a more obscure and dark and terrible
purgation, as we shall say afterwards.

4. Briefly, then, the soul means by this stanza that it went forth (being
led by God) for love of Him alone, enkindled in love of Him, upon a dark
night, which is the privation and purgation of all its sensual desires, with
respect to all outward things of the world and to those which were
delectable to its flesh, and likewise with respect to the desires of its
will. This all comes to pass in this purgation of sense; for which cause the
soul says that it went forth while its house was still at rest; [77] which
house is its sensual part, the desires being at rest and asleep in it, as it
is to them. [78] For there is no going forth from the pains and afflictions
of the secret places of the desires until these be mortified and put to
sleep. And this, the soul says, was a happy chance for it namely, its
going forth without being observed: that is, without any desire of its flesh
or any other thing being able to hinder it. And likewise, because it went
out by night which signifies the privation of all these things wrought in
it by God, which privation was night for it.

5. And it was a happy chance that God should lead it into this night, from
which there came to it so much good; for of itself the soul would not have
succeeded in entering therein, because no man of himself can succeed in
voiding himself of all his desires in order to come to God.

6. This is, in brief, the exposition of the stanza; and we shall now have to
go through it, line by line, setting down one line after another, and
expounding that which pertains to our purpose. And the same method is
followed in the other stanzas, as I said in the Prologue [79] namely, that
each stanza will be set down and expounded, and afterwards each line.
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[74] [Lit.,˜appetites, but this word is uniformly translated˜desires, as
the Spanish context frequently will not admit the use of the stronger word
in English.]

[75] [The word translatedsensual is sometimes sensual, and sometimes, as
here, sensitivo. The meaning in either case is simply˜of sense.]

[76] So Alc. The other authorities read:˜and of this we shall treat
likewise, in the second part with respect to the activity [of the soul]
[these last three words are not contained in the Spanish of any authority],
and in the third and the fourth part with respect to its passivity. E.p.
follows this division. Alc., however, seems to correspond more closely with
the Saints intentions; for he did not divide each of his˜books into
˜parts and appears therefore to indicate by˜part what we know as
˜book. Now Book I is in fact devoted to the active purgation of sense, as
are Books II and III to the active purgation of the spirit. For the˜fourth
book, see General Introduction, IV above.

[77] [The word translated˜at rest is a past participle: more literally,
˜stilled.]

[78] [Lit.,˜and it in them. This˜it means the soul; the preceding
˜it, the house.]

[79] I.e., in the˜Argument.
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CHAPTER II

Explains the nature of this dark night through which the soul says that it
has passed on the road to union.

On A Dark Night

We may say that there are three reasons for which this journey [80] made by
the soul to union with God is called night. The first has to do with the
point from which the soul goes forth, for it has gradually to deprive itself
of desire for all the worldly things which it possessed, by denying them to
itself; [81] the which denial and deprivation are, as it were, night to all
the senses of man. The second reason has to do with the mean, [82] or the
road along which the soul must travel to this union that is, faith, which
is likewise as dark as night to the understanding. The third has to do with
the point to which it travels namely, God, Who, equally, is dark night to
the soul in this life. These three nights must pass through the soul or,
rather, the soul must pass through them in order that it may come to
Divine union with God.

2. In the book of the holy Tobias these three kinds of night were shadowed
forth by the three nights which, as the angel commanded, were to pass ere
the youth Tobias should be united with his bride. In the first he commanded
him to burn the heart of the fish in the fire, which signifies the heart
that is affectioned to, and set upon, the things of the world; which, in
order that one may begin to journey toward God, must be burned and purified
from all that is creature, in the fire of the love of God. And in this
purgation the devil flees away, for he has power over the soul only when it
is attached to things corporeal and temporal.

3. On the second night the angel told him that he would be admitted into the
company of the holy patriarchs, who are the fathers of the faith. For,
passing through the first night, which is self-privation of all objects of
sense, the soul at once enters into the second night, and abides alone in
faith to the exclusion, not of charity, but of other knowledge acquired by
the understanding, as we shall say hereafter, which is a thing that pertains
not to sense.

4. On the third night the angel told him that he would obtain a blessing,
which is God; Who, by means of the second night, which is faith, continually
communicates Himself to the soul in such a secret and intimate manner that
He becomes another night to the soul, inasmuch as this said communication is
far darker than those others, as we shall say presently. And, when this
third night is past, which is the complete accomplishment of the
communication of God in the spirit, which is ordinarily wrought in great
darkness of the soul, there then follows its union with the Bride, which is
the Wisdom of God. Even so the angel said likewise to Tobias that, when the
third night was past, he should be united with his bride in the fear of the
Lord; for, when this fear of God is perfect, love is perfect, and this comes
to pass when the transformation of the soul is wrought through its love.

5. These three parts of the night are all one night; but, after the manner
of night, it has three parts. For the first part, which is that of sense, is
comparable to the beginning of night, the point at which things begin to
fade from sight. And the second part, which is faith, is comparable to
midnight, which is total darkness. And the third part is like the close of
night, which is God, the which part is now near to the light of day. And,
that we may understand this the better, we shall treat of each of these
reasons separately as we proceed.
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[80] [More exactly, this˜passage or˜transition (trÃ¡nsito).]

[81] [Lit.,˜in negation of them.]

[82] [By˜the mean is meant the middle, or main part, of the journey.]
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CHAPTER III

Speaks of the first cause of this night, which is that of the privation of
the desire in all things, and gives the reason for which it is called night.

We here describe as night the privation of every kind of pleasure which
belongs to the desire; for, even as night is naught but the privation of
light, and, consequently, of all objects that can be seen by means of light,
whereby the visual faculty remains unoccupied [83] and in darkness, even so
likewise the mortification of desire may be called night to the soul. For,
when the soul is deprived of the pleasure of its desire in all things, it
remains, as it were, unoccupied and in darkness. For even as the visual
faculty, by means of light, is nourished and fed by objects which can be
seen, and which, when the light is quenched, are not seen, even so, by means
of the desire, the soul is nourished and fed by all things wherein it can
take pleasure according to its faculties; and, when this also is quenched,
or rather, mortified, the soul ceases to feed upon the pleasure of all
things, and thus, with respect to its desire, it remains unoccupied and in
darkness.

2. Let us take an example from each of the faculties. When the soul deprives
its desire of the pleasure of all that can delight the sense of hearing, the
soul remains unoccupied and in darkness with respect to this faculty. And,
when it deprives itself of the pleasure of all that can please the sense of
sight, it remains unoccupied and in darkness with respect to this faculty
also. And, when it deprives itself of the pleasure of all the sweetness of
perfumes which can give it pleasure through the sense of smell, it remains
equally unoccupied and in darkness according to this faculty. And, if it
also denies itself the pleasure of all food that can satisfy the palate, the
soul likewise remains unoccupied and in darkness. And finally, when the soul
mortifies itself with respect to all the delights and pleasures that it can
receive from the sense of touch, it remains, in the same way, unoccupied and
in darkness with respect to this faculty. So that the soul that has denied
and thrust away from itself the pleasures which come from all these things,
and has mortified its desire with respect to them, may be said to be, as it
were, in the darkness of night, which is naught else than an emptiness
within itself of all things.

3. The reason for this is that, as the philosophers say, the soul, as soon
as God infuses it into the body, is like a smooth, blank board [84] upon
which nothing is painted; and, save for that which it experiences through
the senses, nothing is communicated to it, in the course of nature, from any
other source. And thus, for as long as it is in the body, it is like one who
is in a dark prison and who knows nothing, save what he is able to see
through the windows of the said prison; and, if he saw nothing through them,
he would see nothing in any other way. And thus the soul, save for that
which is communicated to it through the senses, which are the windows of its
prison, could acquire nothing, in the course of nature, in any other way.

4. Wherefore, if the soul rejects and denies that which it can receive
through the senses, we can quite well say that it remains, as it were, in
darkness and empty; since, as appears from what has been said, no light can
enter it, in the course of nature, by any other means of illumination than
those aforementioned. For, although it is true that the soul cannot help
hearing and seeing and smelling and tasting and touching, this is of no
greater import, nor, if the soul denies and rejects the object, is it
hindered more than if it saw it not, heard it not, etc. Just so a man who
desires to shut his eyes will remain in darkness, like the blind man who has
not the faculty of sight. And to this purpose David says these words: Pauper
sum ego, et in laboribus a indenture mea. [85] Which signifies: I am poor
and in labours from my youth. He calls himself poor, although it is clear
that he was rich, because his will was not set upon riches, and thus it was
as though he were really poor. But if he had not been really poor and had
not been so in his will, he would not have been truly poor, for his soul, as
far as its desire was concerned, would have been rich and replete. For that
reason we call this detachment night to the soul, for we are not treating
here of the lack of things, since this implies no detachment on the part of
the soul if it has a desire for them; but we are treating of the detachment
from them of the taste and desire, for it is this that leaves the soul free
and void of them, although it may have them; for it is not the things of
this world that either occupy the soul or cause it harm, since they enter it
not, but rather the will and desire for them, for it is these that dwell
within it.

5. This first kind of night, as we shall say hereafter, belongs to the soul
according to its sensual part, which is one of the two parts, whereof we
spoke above, through which the soul must pass in order to attain to union.

6. Let us now say how meet it is for the soul to go forth from its house
into this dark night of sense, in order to travel to union with God.
_________________________________________________________________

[83] [Lit.,˜without anything (sc. to do).]

[84] [˜Blank board: Sp., tabla rasa; Lat., tabula rasa.]

[85] Psalm lxxxvii, 16 [A.V., lxxxviii, 15].
_________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER IV

Wherein is declared how necessary it is for the soul truly to pass through
this dark night of sense, which is mortification of desire, in order that it
may journey to union with God.

The reason for which it is necessary for the soul, in order to attain to
Divine union with God, to pass through this dark night of mortification of
the desires and denial of pleasures in all things, is because all the
affections which it has for creatures are pure darkness in the eyes of God,
and, when the soul is clothed in these affections, it has no capacity for
being enlightened and possessed by the pure and simple light of God, if it
first cast them not from it; for light cannot agree with darkness; since, as
Saint John says: Tenebroe eam non comprehenderunt. [86] That is: The
darkness could not receive the light.

2. The reason is that two contraries (even as philosophy teaches us) cannot
coexist in one person; and that darkness, which is affection set upon the
creatures, and light, which is God, are contrary to each other, and have no
likeness or accord between one another, even as Saint Paul taught the
Corinthians, saying: Quoe conventio luci ad tenebras? [87] That is to say:
What communion can there be between light and darkness? Hence it is that the
light of Divine union cannot dwell in the soul if these affections first
flee not away from it.

3. In order that we may the better prove what has been said, it must be
known that the affection and attachment which the soul has for creatures
renders the soul like to these creatures; and, the greater is its affection,
the closer is the equality and likeness between them; for love creates a
likeness between that which loves and that which is loved. For which reason
David, speaking of those who set their affections upon idols, said thus:
Similes illis fiant qui faciunt ea: et omnes qui confidunt in eis. [88]
Which signifies: Let them that set their heart upon them be like to them.
And thus, he that loves a creature becomes as low as that creature, and, in
some ways, lower; for love not only makes the lover equal to the object of
his love, but even subjects him to it. Hence in the same way it comes to
pass that the soul that loves anything else becomes incapable of pure union
with God and transformation in Him. For the low estate of the creature is
much less capable of union with the high estate of the Creator than is
darkness with light. For all things of earth and heaven, compared with God,
are nothing, as Jeremias says in these words: Aspexi terram, et ecce vacua
erat, et nihil; et coelos, et non erat lux in eis. [89]˜I beheld the
earth, he says,˜and it was void, and it was nothing; and the heavens, and
saw that they had no light. In saying that he beheld the earth void, he
means that all its creatures were nothing, and that the earth was nothing
likewise. And, in saying that he beheld the heavens and saw no light in
them, he says that all the luminaries of heaven, compared with God, are pure
darkness. So that in this way all the creatures are nothing; and their
affections, we may say, are less than nothing, since they are an impediment
to transformation in God and the privation thereof, even as darkness is not
only nothing, but less than nothing, since it is privation of light. And
even as he that is in darkness comprehends not the light, so the soul that
sets its affection upon creatures will be unable to comprehend God; and,
until it be purged, it will neither be able to possess Him here below,
through pure transformation of love, nor yonder in clear vision. And, for
greater clarity, we will now speak in greater detail.

4. All the being of creation, then, compared with the infinite Being of God,
is nothing. And therefore the soul that sets its affection upon the being of
creation is likewise nothing in the eyes of God, and less than nothing; for,
as we have said, love makes equality and similitude, and even sets the lover
below the object of his love. And therefore such a soul will in no wise be
able to attain to union with the infinite Being of God; for that which is
not can have no communion with that which is. And, coming down in detail to
some examples, all the beauty of the creatures, compared with the infinite
beauty of God, is the height of deformity [90] even as Solomon says in the
Proverbs: Fallax gratia, et vana est pulchritudo. [91]˜Favour is deceitful
and beauty is vain. And thus the soul that is affectioned to the beauty of
any creature is the height of deformity in the eyes of God. And therefore
this soul that is deformed will be unable to become transformed in beauty,
which is God, since deformity cannot attain to beauty; and all the grace and
beauty of the creatures, compared with the grace of God, is the height of
misery [92] and of uncomeliness. Wherefore the soul that is ravished by the
graces and beauties of the creatures has only supreme [93] misery and
unattractiveness in the eyes of God; and thus it cannot be capable of the
infinite grace and loveliness of God; for that which has no grace is far
removed from that which is infinitely gracious; and all the goodness of the
creatures of the world, in comparison with the infinite goodness of God, may
be described as wickedness.˜For there is naught good, save only God. [94]
And therefore the soul that sets its heart upon the good things of the world
is supremely evil in the eyes of God. And, even as wickedness comprehends
not goodness, even so such a soul cannot be united with God, Who is supreme
goodness.

5. All the wisdom of the world and all human ability, compared with the
infinite wisdom of God, are pure and supreme ignorance, even as Saint Paul
writes ad Corinthios, saying: Sapientia hujus mundi stultitia est apud Deum.
[95]˜The wisdom of this world is foolishness with God. Wherefore any soul
that makes account of all its knowledge and ability in order to come to
union with the wisdom of God is supremely ignorant in the eyes of God and
will remain far removed from that wisdom; for ignorance knows not what
wisdom is, even as Saint Paul says that this wisdom seems foolishness to
God; since, in the eyes of God, those who consider themselves to be persons
with a certain amount of knowledge are very ignorant, so that the Apostle,
writing to the Romans, says of them: Dicentes enim se esse sapientes, stulti
facti sunt. That is: Professing themselves to be wise, they became foolish.
[96] And those alone acquire wisdom of God who are like ignorant children,
and, laying aside their knowledge, walk in His service with love. This
manner of wisdom Saint Paul taught likewise ad Corinthios: Si quis videtur
inter vos sapiens esse in hoc soeculo, stultus fiat ut sit sapiens.
Sapientia enim hujus mundi stultitia est apud Deum. [97] That is: If any man
among you seem to be wise, let him become ignorant that he may be wise; for
the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God. So that, in order to come
to union with the wisdom of God, the soul has to proceed rather by unknowing
than by knowing; and all the dominion and liberty of the world, compared
with the liberty and dominion of the Spirit of God, is the most abject [98]
slavery, affliction and captivity.

6. Wherefore the soul that is enamoured of prelacy, [99] or of any other
such office, and longs for liberty of desire, is considered and treated, in
the sight of God, not as a son, but as a base slave and captive, since it
has not been willing to accept His holy doctrine, wherein He teaches us that
whoso would be greater must be less, and whoso would be less must be
greater. And therefore such a soul will be unable to attain to that true
liberty of spirit which is attained in His Divine union. For slavery can
have no part with liberty; and liberty cannot dwell in a heart that is
subject to desires, for this is the heart of a slave; but it dwells in the
free man, because he has the heart of a son. It was for this cause that Sara
bade her husband Abraham cast out the bondwoman and her son, saying that the
son of the bondwoman should not be heir with the son of the free woman.
[100]

7. And all the delights and pleasures of the will in all the things of the
world, in comparison with all those delights which are God, are supreme
affliction, torment and bitterness. And thus he that sets his heart upon
them is considered, in the sight of God, as worthy of supreme affliction,
torment and bitterness; and thus he will be unable to attain to the delights
of the embrace of union with God, since he is worthy of affliction and
bitterness. All the wealth and glory of all creation, in comparison with the
wealth which is God, is supreme poverty and wretchedness. Thus the soul that
loves and possesses creature wealth is supremely poor and wretched in the
sight of God, and for that reason will be unable to attain to that wealth
and glory which is the state of transformation in God; for that which is
miserable and poor is supremely far removed from that which is supremely
rich and glorious.

8. And therefore Divine Wisdom, grieving for such as these, who make
themselves vile, low, miserable and poor, because they love the things in
this world which seem to them so rich and beautiful, addresses an
exclamation to them in the Proverbs, saying: O viri, ad vos clamito, et vox
mea ad filios hominum. Intelligite, parvuli, astutiam, et insipientes,
animadvertite. Audite quia de rebus magnis locutura sum. And farther on he
continues: Mecum sunt divitiae, et gloria, opes superbae et justicia. Melior
est fructus meus auro, et lapide pretioso, et genimina mea argento electo.
In viis justitiae ambulo, in medio semitarum judicii, ut ditem diligentes
me, et thesauros eorum repleam. [101] Which signifies: O ye men, to you I
call, and my voice is to the sons of men. Attend, little ones, to subtlety
and sagacity; ye that are foolish, take notice. Hear, for I have to speak of
great things. With me are riches and glory, high riches and justice. Better
is the fruit that ye will find in me than gold and precious stones; and my
generation namely, that which ye will engender of me in your souls is
better than choice silver. I walk in the ways of justice, in the midst of
the paths of judgment, that I may enrich those that love me and fill their
treasures perfectly. Herein Divine Wisdom speaks to all those that set
their hearts and affections upon anything of the world, according as we have
already said. And she calls them˜little ones, because they make themselves
like to that which they love, which is little. And therefore she tells them
to be subtle and to take note that she is treating of great things and not
of things that are little like themselves. That the great riches and the
glory that they love are with her and in her, and not where they think. And
that high riches and justice dwell in her; for, although they think the
things of this world to be all this, she tells them to take note that her
things are better, saying that the fruit that they will find in them will be
better for them than gold and precious stones; and that which she engenders
in souls is better than the choice silver which they love; by which is
understood any kind of affection that can be possessed in this life.
_________________________________________________________________

[86] St. John i, 5.

[87] 2 Corinthians vi, 14.

[88] Psalm cxiv, 9 [A.V., cxv, 8].

[89] Jeremias iv, 23.

[90] [The words often translated˜deformity,˜deformed, or˜vileness,
˜vile, are the ordinary contraries of˜beauty,˜beautiful, and might be
rendered, more literally but less elegantly,˜ugliness,˜ugly.]

[91] Proverbs xxxi, 30.

[92] [For˜grace . . . misery the Spanish has gracia . . . desgracia. The
latter word, however, does not, as might be supposed, correspond to English
˜disgrace.]

[93] E.p. omitssupreme; the Spanish word [having a more literally
superlative force than the English] can hardly be applied, save in a
restricted sense, to what is finite.

[94] St. Luke xviii, 19.

[95] 1 Corinthians iii, 19.

[96] Romans i, 22.

[97] 1 Corinthians iii, 18-19.

[98] [Lit.,˜is supreme.]

[99] [The word is applicable to any kind of preferential position.]

[100] Genesis xxi, 10.

[101] Proverbs viii, 4-6, 18-21.
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CHAPTER V

Wherein the aforementioned subject is treated and continued, and it is shown
by passages and figures from Holy Scripture how necessary it is for the soul
to journey to God through this dark night of the mortification of desire in
all things.

From what has been said it may be seen in some measure how great a distance
there is between all that the creatures are in themselves and that which God
is in Himself, and how souls that set their affections upon any of these
creatures are at as great a distance as they from God; for, as we have said,
love produces equality and likeness. This distance was clearly realized by
Saint Augustine, who said in the Sololoquies, speaking with God:˜Miserable
man that I am, when will my littleness and imperfection be able to have
fellowship with Thy uprightness? Thou indeed art good, and I am evil; Thou
art merciful, and I am impious; Thou art holy, I am miserable; Thou art
just, I am unjust; Thou art light, I am blind; Thou, life, I, death; Thou,
medicine, I, sick; Thou, supreme truth, I, utter vanity. All this is said
by this Saint. [102]

2. Wherefore, it is supreme ignorance for the soul to think that it will be
able to pass to this high estate of union with God if first it void not the
desire of all things, natural and supernatural, which may hinder it,
according as we shall explain hereafter; [103] for there is the greatest
possible distance between these things and that which comes to pass in this
estate, which is naught else than transformation in God. For this reason Our
Lord, when showing us this path, said through Saint Luke: Qui non renuntiat
omnibus quae possidet, non potest meus esse discipulus. [104] This
signifies: He that renounces not all things that he possesses with his will
cannot be My disciple. And this is evident; for the doctrine that the Son of
God came to teach was contempt for all things, whereby a man might receive
as a reward the Spirit of God in himself. For, as long as the soul rejects
not all things, it has no capacity to receive the Spirit of God in pure
transformation.

3. Of this we have a figure in Exodus, wherein we read that God gave not the
children of Israel the food from Heaven, which was manna, until the flour
which they had brought from Egypt failed them. By this is signified that
first of all it is meet to renounce all things, for this angels food is not
fitting for the palate that would find delight in the food of men. And not
only does the soul become incapable of receiving the Divine Spirit when it
stays and pastures on other strange pleasures, but those souls greatly
offend the Divine Majesty who desire spiritual food and are not content with
God alone, but desire rather to intermingle desire and affection for other
things. This can likewise be seen in the same book of Holy Scripture, [105]
wherein it is said that, not content with that simplest of food, they
desired and craved fleshly food. [106] And that Our Lord was greatly wroth
that they should desire to intermingle a food that was so base and so coarse
with one that was so noble [107] and so simple; which, though it was so, had
within itself the sweetness and substance of all foods. [108] Wherefore,
while they yet had the morsels in their mouths, as David says likewise: Ira
Dei descendit super eos. [109] The wrath of God came down upon them, sending
fire from Heaven and consuming many thousands of them; for God held it an
unworthy thing that they should have a desire for other food when He had
given them food from Heaven.

4. Oh, did spiritual persons but know how much good and what great abundance
of spirit they lose through not seeking to raise up their desires above
childish things, and how in this simple spiritual food they would find the
sweetness of all things, if they desired not to taste those things! But such
food gives them no pleasure, for the reason why the children of Israel
received not the sweetness of all foods that was contained in the manna was
that they would not reserve their desire for it alone. So that they failed
to find in the manna all the sweetness and strength that they could wish,
not because it was not contained in the manna, but because they desired some
other thing. Thus he that will love some other thing together with God of a
certainty makes little account of God, for he weighs in the balance against
God that which, as we have said, is at the greatest possible distance from
God.

5. It is well known by experience that, when the will of a man is
affectioned to one thing, he prizes it more than any other; although some
other thing may be much better, he takes less pleasure in it. And if he
wishes to enjoy both, he is bound to wrong the more important, because he
makes an equality between them. Wherefore, since there is naught that equals
God, the soul that loves some other thing together with Him, or clings to
it, does Him a grievous wrong. And if this is so, what would it be doing if
it loved anything more than God?

6. It is this, too, that was denoted by the command of God to Moses that he
should ascend the Mount to speak with Him: He commanded him not only to
ascend it alone, leaving the children of Israel below, but not even to allow
the beasts to feed over against the Mount. [110] By this He signified that
the soul that is to ascend this mount of perfection, to commune with God,
must not only renounce all things and leave them below, but must not even
allow the desires, which are the beasts, to pasture over against this mount
that is, upon other things which are not purely God, in Whom that is, in
the state of perfection every desire ceases. So he that journeys on the
road and makes the ascent to God must needs be habitually careful to quell
and mortify the desires; and the greater the speed wherewith a soul does
this, the sooner will it reach the end of its journey. Until these be
quelled, it cannot reach the end, however much it practise the virtues,
since it is unable to attain to perfection in them; for this perfection
consists in voiding and stripping and purifying the soul of every desire. Of
this we have another very striking figure in Genesis, where we read that,
when the patriarch Jacob desired to ascend Mount Bethel, in order to build
an altar there to God whereon he should offer Him sacrifice, he first
commanded all his people to do three things: one was that they should cast
away from them all strange gods; the second, that they should purify
themselves; the third, that they should change their garments. [111]

7. By these three things it is signified that any soul that will ascend this
mount in order to make of itself an altar whereon it may offer to God the
sacrifice of pure love and praise and pure reverence, must, before ascending
to the summit of the mount, have done these three things aforementioned
perfectly. First, it must cast away all strange gods namely, all strange
affections and attachments; secondly, it must purify itself of the remnants
which the desires aforementioned have left in the soul, by means of the dark
night of sense whereof we are speaking, habitually denying them and
repenting itself of them; and thirdly, in order to reach the summit of this
high mount, it must have changed its garments, which, through its observance
of the first two things, God will change for it, from old to new, by giving
it a new understanding of God in God, the old human understanding being cast
aside; and a new love of God in God, the will being now stripped of all its
old desires and human pleasures, and the soul being brought into a new state
of knowledge and profound delight, all other old images and forms of
knowledge having been cast away, and all that belongs to the old man, which
is the aptitude of the natural self, quelled, and the soul clothed with a
new supernatural aptitude with respect to all its faculties. So that its
operation, which before was human, has become Divine, which is that that is
attained in the state of union, wherein the soul becomes naught else than an
altar whereon God is adored in praise and love, and God alone is upon it.
For this cause God commanded that the altar whereon the Ark of the Covenant
was to be laid should be hollow within; [112] so that the soul may
understand how completely empty of all things God desires it to be, that it
may be an altar worthy of the presence of His Majesty. On this altar it was
likewise forbidden that there should be any strange fire, or that its own
fire should ever fail; and so essential was this that, because Nadab and
Abiu, who were the sons of the High Priest Aaron, offered strange fire upon
His Altar, Our Lord was wroth and slew them there before the altar. [113] By
this we are to understand that the love of God must never fail in the soul,
so that the soul may be a worthy altar, and so that no other love must be
mingled with it.

8. God permits not that any other thing should dwell together with Him.
Wherefore we read in the First Book the Kings that, when the Philistines put
the Ark of the Covenant into the temple where their idol was, the idol was
cast down upon the ground at the dawn of each day, and broken to pieces.
[114] And He permits and wills that there should be only one desire where He
is, which is to keep the law of God perfectly, and to bear upon oneself the
Cross of Christ. And thus naught else is said in the Divine Scripture to
have been commanded by God to be put in the Ark, where the manna was, save
the book of the Law, [115] and the rod Moses, [116] which signifies the
Cross. For the soul that aspires naught else than the keeping of the law of
the Lord perfectly and the bearing of the Cross of Christ will be a true
Ark, containing within itself the true manna, which is God, when that soul
attains to a perfect possession within itself of this law and this rod,
without any other thing soever.
_________________________________________________________________

[102] Soliloq., chap. ii (Migne: Patr. lat., Vol. XL, p. 866).

[103] So Alc. The other authorities have merely:˜which may pertain to
it, and e.p. adds to this:˜through self-love. Even when softened by Diego
de PesÃºs this phrase of the Saint did not escape denunciation, and it was
the first of the˜propositions condemned in his writings (cf. General
Introduction, VI, above). It was defended by P. Basilio Ponce de LeÃ³n in his
Reply (p. lx), and more extensively by P. NicolÃ¡s de JesÃºs MarÃa
(Elucidatio, Pt. II, Chap i, pp. 125-40). In reality, little defence is
needed other than that contained in the last chapters of the Ascent of Mount
Carmel, which clearly show the harm caused by supernatural favours, when
these are abused, to the memory, the understanding and the will. Who, after
all, can doubt that we may abuse˜things supernatural and by such abuse
hinder the soul from attaining union with God?

[104] St. Luke xiv, 33.

[105] E.p. alters this to:˜in the same Scripture. [It does not, in fact,
occur in the same book.]

[106] Numbers xi, 4.

[107] [Lit.,so high.]

[108] [Wisdom xvi, 20.]

[109] Psalm lxxvii, 31 [A.V., lxxviii, 31].

[110] [Exodus xxxiv, 2-3.] E.p.:˜within sight of the Mount. A, B:˜near
the Mount.

[111] Gen. xxxv, 2.

[112] Exodus xxvii, 8.

[113] Leviticus x, 1-2.

[114] 1 Kings [A.V., 1 Samuel] v, 3-5.

[115] Deut. xxxi, 26.

[116] Numbers xvii, 10. [More properly,˜the rod of Aaron.]
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CHAPTER VI

Wherein are treated two serious evils caused in the soul by the desires, the
one evil being privative and the other positive.

In order that what we have said may be the more clearly and fully
understood, it will be well to set down here and state how these desires are
the cause of two serious evils in the soul: the one is that they deprive it
of the Spirit of God, and the other is that the soul wherein they dwell is
wearied, tormented, darkened, defiled and weakened, according to that which
is said in Jeremias, Chapter II: Duo mala fecit Populus meus: dereliquerunt
fontem aquae vivae, ut foderunt sibi cisternas, dissipatas, quae continere
non valent aquas. Which signifies: They have forsaken Me, Who am the
fountain of living water, and they have hewed them out broken cisterns, that
can hold no water. [117] Those two evils namely, the privative and the
positive may be caused by any disordered act of the desire. And, speaking
first of all, of the privative, it is clear from the very fact that the soul
becomes affectioned to a thing which comes under the head of creature, that
the more the desire for that thing fills the soul, [118] the less capacity
has the soul for God; inasmuch as two contraries, according to the
philosophers, cannot coexist in one person; and further, since, as we said
in the fourth chapter, affection for God and affection for creatures are
contraries, there cannot be contained within one will affection for
creatures and affection for God. For what has the creature to do with the
Creator? What has sensual to do with spiritual? Visible with invisible?
Temporal with eternal? Food that is heavenly, spiritual and pure with food
that is of sense alone and is purely sensual? Christlike poverty of spirit
with attachment to aught soever?

2. Wherefore, as in natural generation no form can be introduced unless the
preceding, contrary form is first expelled from the subject, which form,
while present, is an impediment to the other by reason of the contrariety
which the two have between each other; even so, for as long as the soul is
subjected to the sensual spirit, the spirit which is pure and spiritual
cannot enter it. Wherefore our Saviour said through Saint Matthew: Non est
bonum sumere panem filiorum, et mittere canibus. [119] That is: It is not
meet to take the childrens bread and to cast it to the dogs. And elsewhere,
too, he says through the same Evangelist: Nolite sanctum dare canibus. [120]
Which signifies: Give not that which is holy to the dogs. In these passages
Our Lord compares those who renounce their creature-desires, and prepare
themselves to receive the Spirit of God in purity, to the children of God;
and those who would have their desire feed upon the creatures, to dogs. For
it is given to children to eat with their father at table and from his dish,
which is to feed upon His Spirit, and to dogs are given the crumbs which
fall from the table.

3. From this we are to learn that all created things are crumbs that have
fallen from the table of God. Wherefore he that feeds ever upon [121] the
creatures is rightly called a dog, and therefore the bread is taken from the
children, because they desire not to rise above feeding upon the crumbs,
which are created things, to the Uncreated Spirit of their Father.
Therefore, like dogs, they are ever hungering, and justly so, because the
crumbs serve to whet their appetite rather than to satisfy their hunger. And
thus David says of them: Famem patientur ut canes, et circuibunt civitatem.
Si vero non fuerint saturati, et murmurabunt. [122] Which signifies: They
shall suffer hunger like dogs and shall go round about the city, and, if
they find not enough to fill them, they shall murmur. For this is the nature
of one that has desires, that he is ever discontented and dissatisfied, like
one that suffers hunger; for what has the hunger which all the creatures
suffer to do with the fullness which is caused by the Spirit of God?
Wherefore this fullness that is uncreated cannot enter the soul, if there be
not first cast out that other created hunger which belongs to the desire of
the soul; for, as we have said two contraries cannot dwell in one person,
the which contraries in this case are hunger and fullness.

4. From what has been said it will be seen how much greater is the work of
God [123] in the cleansing and the purging of a soul from these
contrarieties than in the creating of that soul from nothing. For thee
contrarieties, these contrary desires and affections, are more completely
opposed to God and offer Him greater resistance than does nothingness; for
nothingness resists not at all. And let this suffice with respect to the
first of the important evils which are inflicted upon the soul by the
desires namely, resistance to the Spirit of God since much has been said
of this above.

5. Let us now speak of the second effect which they cause in the soul. This
is of many kinds, because the desires weary the soul and torment and darken
it, and defile it and weaken it. Of these five things we shall speak
separately, in their turn.

6. With regard to the first, it is clear that the desires weary and fatigue
the soul; for they are like restless and discontented children, who are ever
demanding this or that from their mother, and are never contented. And even
as one that digs because he covets a treasure is wearied and fatigued, even
so is the soul weary and fatigued in order to attain that which its desires
demand of it; and although in the end it may attain it, it is still weary,
because it is never satisfied; for, after all, the cisterns which it is
digging are broken, and cannot hold water to satisfy thirst. And thus, as
Isaias says: Lassus adhuc sitit, et anima ejus vacua est. [124] Which
signifies: His desire is empty. And the soul that has desires is wearied and
fatigued; for it is like a man that is sick of a fever, who finds himself no
better until the fever leaves him, and whose thirst increases with every
moment. For, as is said in the Book of Job: Cum satiatus fuerit, artabitur,
aestuabit, et omnis dolor inruet super eum. [125] Which signifies: When he
has satisfied his desire, he will be the more oppressed and straitened; the
heat of desire hath increased in his soul and thus every sorrow will fall
upon him. The soul is wearied and fatigued by its desires, because it is
wounded and moved and disturbed by them as is water by the winds; in just
the same way they disturb it, allowing it not to rest in any place or in any
thing soever. And of such a soul says Isaias: Cor impii quasi mare fervens.
[126]˜The heart of the wicked man is like the sea when it rages. And he is
a wicked man that conquers not his desires. The soul that would fain satisfy
its desires grows wearied and fatigued; for it is like one that, being an
hungered, opens his mouth that he may sate himself with wind, whereupon,
instead of being satisfied, his craving becomes greater, for the wind is no
food for him. To this purpose said Jeremias: In desiderio animae sum
attraxit ventum amoris sui. [127] As though he were to say: In the desire of
his will he snuffed up the wind of his affection. And he then tries to
describe the aridity wherein such a soul remains, and warns it, saying:
Prohibe pedem tuum a nuditate, et guttur tuum a siti. [128] Which signifies:
Keep thy foot (that is, thy thought) from being bare and thy throat from
thirst (that is to say, thy will from the indulgence of the desire which
causes greater dryness); and, even as the lover is wearied and fatigued upon
the day of his hopes, when his attempt has proved to be vain, so the soul is
wearied and fatigued by all its desires and by indulgence in them, since
they all cause it greater emptiness and hunger; for, as is often said,
desire is like the fire, which increases as wood is thrown upon it, and
which, when it has consumed the wood, must needs die.

7. And in this regard it is still worse with desire; for the fire goes down
when the wood is consumed, but desire, though it increases when fuel is
added to it, decreases not correspondingly when the fuel is consumed; on the
contrary, instead of going down, as does the fire when its fuel is consumed,
it grows weak through weariness, for its hunger is increased and its food
diminished. And of this Isaias speaks, saying: Declinabit ad dexteram, et
esuriet: et comedet ad sinistram, et non saturabitur. [129] This signifies:
He shall turn to the right hand, and shall be hungry; and he shall eat on
the left hand, and shall not be filled. For they that mortify not their
desires, when they˜turn, justly see the fullness of the sweetness of
spirit of those who are at the right hand of God, which fullness is not
granted to themselves; and justly, too, when they eat on the left hand,
[130] by which is meant the satisfaction of their desire with some creature
comfort, they are not filled, for, leaving aside that which alone can
satisfy, they feed on that which causes them greater hunger. It is clear,
then, that the desires weary and fatigue the soul.
_________________________________________________________________

[117] Jeremias ii, 13.

[118] [Lit.,˜the greater the bulk that that desire has in the soul.]

[119] St. Matthew xv, 26.

[120] St. Matthew vii, 6.

[121] [Lit.,˜he that goes feeding upon.]

[122] Psalm lviii, 15-16 [A.V., lix, 14-15].

[123] [Lit.,˜how much more God does.]

[124] Isaias xxix, 8. The editions supply the translation of the first part
of the Latin text, which the Saint and the Codices omitted:˜After being
wearied and fatigued, he yet thirsteth, etc.

[125] Job xx, 22.

[126] Isaias lvii, 20.

[127] Jeremias ii, 24.

[128] Jeremias ii, 25.

[129] Isaias ix, 20.

[130] Thus Alc. [with˜run for˜eat]. A, B, e.p. read:˜. . . when they
turn from the way of God (which is the right hand) are justly hungered, for
they merit not the fullness of the sweetness of spirit. And justly, too,
when they eat on the left hand, etc. [While agreeing with P. Silverio that
Alc. gives the better reading, I prefer˜eat to˜run: it is nearer the
Scriptural passage and the two Spanish words, comen and corren, could easily
be confused in MS.]
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CHAPTER VII

Wherein is shown how the desires torment the soul. This is proved likewise
by comparison and quotations.

The second kind of positive evil which the desires cause the soul is in
their tormenting and afflicting of it, after the manner of one who is in
torment through being bound with cords from which he has no relief until he
be freed. And of these David says: Funes peccatorum circumplexi sunt me.
[131] The cords of my sins, which are my desires, have constrained me round
about. And, even as one that lies naked upon thorns and briars is tormented
and afflicted, even so is the soul tormented and afflicted when it rests
upon its desires. For they take hold upon it and distress it and cause it
pain, even as do thorns. Of these David says likewise: Circumdederunt me
sicut apes: et exarserunt sicut ignis in spinis. [132] Which signifies: They
compassed me about like bees, wounding me with their stings, and they were
enkindled against me, like fire among thorns; for in the desires, which are
the thorns, increases the fire of anguish and torment. And even as the
husbandman, coveting the harvest for which he hopes, afflicts and torments
the ox in the plough, even so does concupiscence afflict a soul that is
subject to its desire to attain that for which it longs. This can be clearly
seen in that desire which Dalila had to know whence Samson derived his
strength that was so great, for the Scripture says that it fatigued and
tormented her so much that it caused her to swoon, almost to the point of
death, and she said: Defecit anima ejus, et ad mortem usque lassata est.
[133]

2. The more intense is the desire, the greater is the torment which it
causes the soul. So that the torment increases with the desire; and the
greater are the desires which possess the soul, the greater are its
torments; for in such a soul is fulfilled, even in this life, that which is
said in the Apocalypse concerning Babylon, in these words: Quantum
glorificavit se, et in deliciis fuit, tantum date illi tormentum, et luctum.
[134] That is: As much as she has wished to exalt and fulfil her desires, so
much give ye to her torment and anguish. And even as one that falls into the
hands of his enemies is tormented and afflicted, even so is the soul
tormented and afflicted that is led away by its desires. Of this there is a
figure in the Book of the Judges, wherein it may be read that that strong
man, Samson, who at one time was strong and free and a judge of Israel, fell
into the power of his enemies, and they took his strength from him, and put
out his eyes, and bound him in a mill, to grind corn, [135] wherein they
tormented and afflicted him greatly; [136] and thus it happens to the soul
in which these its enemies, the desires, live and rule; for the first thing
that they do is to weaken the soul and blind it, as we shall say below; and
then they afflict and torment it, binding it to the mill of concupiscence;
and the bonds with which it is bound are its own desires.

3. Wherefore God, having compassion on these that with such great labour,
and at such cost to themselves, go about endeavouring to satisfy the hunger
and thirst of their desire in the creatures, says to them through Isaias:
Omnes sitientes, venite ad aquas; et qui non habetis argentum, properate,
emite, el comedite: venite, emite absque argento vinum et lac. Quare
appenditis argentum non in panibus, et laborem vestrum non in saturitate?
[137] As though He were to say: All ye that have thirst of desire, come to
the waters, and all ye that have no silver of your own will and desires,
make haste; buy from Me and eat; come and buy from Me wine and milk (that
is, spiritual sweetness and peace) without the silver of your own will, and
without giving Me any labour in exchange for it, as ye give for your
desires. Wherefore do ye give the silver of your will for that which is not
bread namely, that of the Divine Spirit and set the labour of your
desires upon that which cannot satisfy you? Come, hearkening to Me, and ye
shall eat the good that ye desire and your soul shall delight itself in
fatness.

4. This attaining to fatness is a going forth from all pleasures of the
creatures; for the creatures torment, but the Spirit of God refreshes. And
thus He calls us through Saint Matthew, saying: Venite ad me omnes, qui
laboratis et onerati estis, et ego reficiam vos, et invenietis requiem
animabus vestris. [138] As though He were to say: All ye that go about
tormented, afflicted and burdened with the burden of your cares and desires,
go forth from them, come to Me, and I will refresh you and ye shall find for
your souls the rest which your desires take from you, wherefore they are a
heavy burden, for David says of them: Sicut onus grave gravatae sunt super
me. [139] Psalm xxxvii, 5 [A.V., xxxviii, 4].
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[131] Psalm cxviii, 61 [A.V., cxix, 61].

[132] Psalm cxvii, 12 [A.V., cxviii, 12].

[133] Judges xvi, 16. [Actually it was Samson, not Dalila, who was˜wearied
even until death.]

[134] Apocalypse xviii, 7.

[135] [Lit.,˜bound him to grind in a mill.]

[136] Judges xvi, 21.

[137] Isaias lv, 1-2.

[138] St. Matthew xi, 28-9.

[139]
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CHAPTER VIII

Wherein is shown how the desires darken and blind the soul.

The third evil that the desires cause in the soul is that they blind and
darken it. Even as vapours darken the air and allow not the bright sun to
shine; or as a mirror that is clouded over cannot receive within itself a
clear image; or as water defiled by mud reflects not the visage of one that
looks therein; even so the soul that is clouded by the desires is darkened
in the understanding and allows neither [140] the sun of natural reason nor
that of the supernatural Wisdom of God to shine upon it and illumine it
clearly. And thus David, speaking to this purpose, says: Comprehenderunt me
iniquitates meae, et non potui, ut viderem. [141] Which signifies: Mine
iniquities have taken hold upon me, and I could have no power to see.

2. And, at this same time, when the soul is darkened in the understanding,
it is benumbed also in the will, and the memory becomes dull and disordered
in its due operation. For, as these faculties in their operations depend
upon the understanding, it is clear that, when the understanding is impeded,
they will become disordered and troubled. And thus David says: Anima mea
turbata est valde. [142] That is: My soul is sorely troubled. Which is as
much as to say,˜disordered in its faculties. For, as we say, the
understanding has no more capacity for receiving enlightenment from the
wisdom of God than has the air, when it is dark, for receiving enlightenment
from the sun; neither has the will any power to embrace God within itself in
pure love, even as the mirror that is clouded with vapour has no power to
reflect clearly within itself any visage, [143] and even less power has the
memory which is clouded by the darkness of desire to take clearly upon
itself the form of the image of God, just as the muddled water cannot show
forth clearly the visage of one that looks at himself therein.

3. Desire blinds and darkens the soul; for desire, as such, is blind, since
of itself it has no understanding in itself, the reason being to it always,
as it were, a child leading a blind man. And hence it comes to pass that,
whensoever the soul is guided by its desire, it becomes blind; for this is
as if one that sees were guided by one that sees not, which is, as it were,
for both to be blind. And that which follows from this is that which Our
Lord says through Saint Matthew: Si caecus caeco ducatum praestet, ambo in
foveam cadunt. [144]˜If the blind lead the blind, both fall into the
pit. Of little use are its eyes to a moth, since desire for the beauty of
the light dazzles it and leads it into the flame. [145] And even so we may
say that one who feeds upon desire is like a fish that is dazzled, upon
which the light acts rather as darkness, preventing it from seeing the
snares which the fishermen are preparing for it. This is very well expressed
by David himself, where he says of such persons: Supercecidit ignis, et non
viderunt solem. [146] Which signifies: There came upon them the fire, which
burns with its heat and dazzles with its light. And it is this that desire
does to the soul, enkindling its concupiscence and dazzling its
understanding so that it cannot see its light. For the cause of its being
thus dazzled is that when another light of a different kind is set before
the eye, the visual faculty is attracted by that which is interposed so that
it sees not the other; and, as the desire is set so near to the soul as to
be within the soul itself, the soul meets this first light and is attracted
by it; and thus it is unable to see the light of clear understanding,
neither will see it until the dazzling power of desire is taken away from
it.

4. For this reason one must greatly lament the ignorance of certain men, who
burden themselves with extraordinary penances and with many other voluntary
practices, and think that this practice or that will suffice to bring them
to the union of Divine Wisdom; but such will not be the case if they
endeavour not diligently to mortify their desires. If they were careful to
bestow half of that labour on this, they would profit more in a month than
they profit by all the other practices in many years. For, just as it is
necessary to till the earth if it is to bear fruit, and unless it be tilled
it bears naught but weeds, just so is mortification of the desires necessary
if the soul is to profit. Without this mortification, I make bold to say,
the soul no more achieves progress on the road to perfection and to the
knowledge of God of itself, however many efforts it may make, than the seed
grows when it is cast upon untilled ground. Wherefore the darkness and
rudeness of the soul will not be taken from it until the desires be
quenched. For these desires are like cataracts, or like motes in the eye,
which obstruct the sight until they be taken away.

5. And thus David, realizing how blind are these souls, and how completely
impeded from beholding the light of truth, and how wroth is God with them,
speaks to them, saying: Priusquam intelligerent spinae vestrae rhamnum:
sicut viventes, sic in ira absorber eos. [147] And this is as though He had
said: Before your thorns (that is, your desires) harden and grow, changing
from tender thorns into a thick hedge and shutting out the sight of God even
as oft-times the living find their thread of life broken in the midst of its
course, even so will God swallow them up in His wrath. For the desires that
are living in the soul, so that it cannot understand Him, [148] will be
swallowed up by God by means of chastisement and correction, either in this
life or in the next, and this will come to pass through purgation. And He
says that He will swallow them up in wrath, because that which is suffered
in the mortification of the desires is punishment for the ruin which they
have wrought in the soul.

6. Oh, if men but knew how great is the blessing of Divine light whereof
they are deprived by this blindness which proceeds from their affections and
desires, and into what great hurts and evils these make them to fall day
after day, for so long as they mortify them not! For a man must not rely
upon a clear understanding, or upon gifts that he has received from God, and
think that he may indulge his affection or desire, and will not be blinded
and darkened, and fall gradually into a worse estate. For who would have
said that a man so perfect in wisdom and the gifts of God as was Solomon
would have been reduced to such blindness and torpor of the will as to make
altars to so many idols and to worship them himself, when he was old? [149]
Yet no more was needed to bring him to this than the affection which he had
for women and his neglect to deny the desires and delights of his heart. For
he himself says concerning himself, in Ecclesiastes, that he denied not his
heart that which it demanded of him. [150] And this man was capable of being
so completely led away by his desires that, although it is true that at the
beginning he was cautious, nevertheless, because he denied them not, they
gradually blinded and darkened his understanding, so that in the end they
succeeded in quenching that great light of wisdom which God had given him,
and therefore in his old age he foresook God.

7. And if unmortified desires could do so much in this man who knew so well
the distance that lies between good and evil, what will they not be capable
of accomplishing by working upon our ignorance? For we, as God said to the
prophet Jonas concerning the Ninivites, cannot discern between [151] our
right hand and our left. [152] At every step we hold evil to be good, and
good, evil, and this arises from our own nature. What, then, will come to
pass if to our natural darkness is added the hindrance of desire? [153]
Naught but that which Isaias describes thus: Palpavimus, sicut caeci
parietem, et quasi absque oculis adtrectavimus: impegimus meridie, quasi in
tenebris. [154] The prophet is speaking with those who love to follow these
their desires. It is as if he had said: We have groped for the wall as
though we were blind, and we have been groping as though we had no eyes, and
our blindness has attained to such a point that we have stumbled at midday
as though it were in the darkness. For he that is blinded by desire has this
property, that, when he is set in the midst of truth and of that which is
good for him, he can no more see them than if he were in darkness.
_________________________________________________________________

[140] [Lit.,˜gives no occasion either for, etc.]

[141] Psalm xxxix, 13 [A.V., xl, 12.]

[142] Psalm vi, 4 [A.V., vi, 3].

[143] [Lit.,˜the present visage.]

[144] St. Matthew xv, 14.

[145] [hoguera. More exactly:˜fire,˜bonfire,˜blaze.]

[146] Psalm lvii, 9 [cf. A.V., lviii, 8].

[147] Psalm lvii, 10 [A.V., lviii, 9].

[148] [Lit.,˜before it can understand God.]

[149] 3 Kings [A.V., 1 Kings] xi, 4.

[150] Ecclesiastes ii, 10.

[151] [Lit.,˜we . . . know not what there is between.]

[152] Jonas iv, 11.

[153] [Lit.,˜is added desire.]

[154] Isaias lix, 10.
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CHAPTER IX

Wherein is described how the desires defile the soul. This is proved by
comparisons and quotations from Holy Scripture.

The fourth evil which the desires cause in the soul is that they stain and
defile it, as is taught in Ecclesiasticus, in these words: Qui tetigerit
picem, inquinabitur ab ea. [155] This signifies: He that toucheth pitch
shall be defiled with it. And a man touches pitch when he allows the desire
of his will to be satisfied by any creature. Here it is to be noted that the
Wise Man compares the creatures to pitch; for there is more difference
between excellence of soul and the best of the creatures [156] than there is
between pure diamond, [157] or fine gold, and pitch. And just as gold or
diamond, if it were heated and placed upon pitch, would become foul and be
stained by it, inasmuch as the heat would have cajoled and allured the
pitch, even so the soul that is hot with desire for any creature draws forth
foulness from it through the heat of its desire and is stained by it. And
there is more difference between the soul and other corporeal creatures than
between a liquid that is highly clarified and mud that is most foul.
Wherefore, even as such a liquid would be defiled if it were mingled with
mud, so is the soul defiled that clings to creatures, since by doing this it
becomes like to the said creatures. And in the same way that traces of soot
would defile a face that is very lovely and perfect, even in this way do
disordered desires befoul and defile the soul that has them, the which soul
is in itself a most lovely and perfect image of God.

2. Wherefore Jeremias, lamenting the ravages of foulness which these
disordered affections cause in the soul, speaks first of its beauty, and
then of its foulness, saying: Candidiores sunt Nazaraei ejus nive,
nitidiores lacte, rubicundiores ebore antiquo, sapphiro pulchriores.
Denigrata est super carbones facies eorum, et non sunt cogniti in plateis.
[158] Which signifies: Its hair that is to say, that of the soul is more
excellent in whiteness than the snow, clearer [159] than milk, and ruddier
than old ivory, and lovelier than the sapphire stone. Their face has now
become blacker than coal and they are not known in the streets. [160] By the
hair we here understand the affections and thoughts of the soul, which,
ordered as God orders them that is, in God Himself are whiter than snow,
and clearer [161] than milk, and ruddier than ivory, and lovelier than the
sapphire. By these four things is understood every kind of beauty and
excellence of corporeal creatures, higher than which, says the writer, are
the soul and its operations, which are the Nazarites or the hair
aforementioned; the which Nazarites, being unruly, [162] with their lives
ordered in a way that God ordered not that is, being set upon the
creatures have their face (says Jeremias) made and turned blacker than
coal.

3. All this harm, and more, is done to the beauty of the soul by its unruly
desires for the things of this world; so much so that, if we set out to
speak of the foul and vile appearance that the desires can give the soul, we
should find nothing, however full of cobwebs and worms it might be, not even
the corruption of a dead body, nor aught else that is impure and vile, nor
aught that can exist and be imagined in this life, to which we could compare
it. For, although it is true that the unruly soul, in its natural being, is
as perfect as when God created it, yet, in its reasonable being, it is vile,
abominable, foul, black and full of all the evils that are here being
described, and many more. For, as we shall afterwards say, a single unruly
desire, although there be in it no matter of mortal sin, suffices to bring a
soul into such bondage, foulness and vileness that it can in no wise come to
accord with God in union [163] until the desire be purified. What, then,
will be the vileness of the soul that is completely unrestrained with
respect to its own passions and given up to its desires, and how far removed
will it be from God and from His purity?

4. It is impossible to explain in words, or to cause to be understood by the
understanding, what variety of impurity is caused in the soul by a variety
of desires. For, if it could be expressed and understood, it would be a
wondrous thing, and one also which would fill us with pity, to see how each
desire, in accordance with its quality and degree, be it greater or smaller,
leaves in the soul its mark and deposit of impurity and vileness, and how
one single disorder of the reason can be the source of innumerable different
impurities, some greater, some less, each one after its kind. For, even as
the soul of the righteous man has in one single perfection, which is
uprightness of soul, innumerable gifts of the greatest richness, and many
virtues of the greatest loveliness, each one different and full of grace
after its kind according to the multitude and the diversity of the
affections of love which it has had in God, even so the unruly soul,
according to the variety of the desires which it has for the creatures, has
in itself a miserable variety of impurities and meannesses, wherewith it is
endowed [164] by the said desires.

5. The variety of these desires is well illustrated in the Book of Ezechiel,
where it is written that God showed this Prophet, in the interior of the
Temple, painted around its walls, all likenesses of creeping things which
crawl on the ground, and all the abomination of unclean beasts. [165] And
then God said to Ezechiel:˜Son of man, hast thou not indeed seen the
abominations that these do, each one in the secrecy of his chamber? [166]
And God commanded the Prophet to go in farther and he would see greater
abominations; and he says that he there saw women seated, weeping for
Adonis, the god of love. [167] And God commanded him to go in farther still,
and he would see yet greater abominations, and he says that he saw there
five-and-twenty old men whose backs were turned toward the Temple. [168]

6. The diversity of creeping things and unclean beasts that were painted in
the first chamber of the Temple are the thoughts and conceptions which the
understanding fashions from the lowly things of earth, and from all the
creatures, which are painted, just as they are, in the temple of the soul,
when the soul embarrasses its understanding with them, which is the souls
first habitation. The women that were farther within, in the second
habitation, weeping for the god Adonis, are the desires that are in the
second faculty of the soul, which is the will; the which are, as it were,
weeping, inasmuch as they covet that to which the will is affectioned, which
are the creeping things painted in the understandings. And the men that were
in the third habitation are the images and representations of the creatures,
which the third part of the soul namely memory keeps and reflects upon
[169] within itself. Of these it is said that their backs are turned toward
the Temple because when the soul, according to these three faculties,
completely and perfectly embraces anything that is of the earth, it can be
said to have its back turned toward the Temple of God, which is the right
reason of the soul, which admits within itself nothing that is of creatures.

7. And let this now suffice for the understanding of this foul disorder of
the soul with respect to its desires. For if we had to treat in detail of
the lesser foulness which these imperfections and their variety make and
cause in the soul, and that which is caused by venial sins, which is still
greater than that of the imperfections, and their great variety, and
likewise that which is caused by the desires for mortal sin, which is
complete foulness of the soul, and its great variety, according to the
variety and multitude of all these three things, we should never end, nor
would the understanding of angels suffice to understand it. That which I
say, and that which is to the point for my purpose, is that any desire,
although it be for but the smallest imperfection, stains and defiles the
soul.
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[155] Ecclesiasticus xiii, 1.

[156] [More literally:˜and all the best that is of the creatures.˜Best
is neuter and refers to qualities, appurtenances, etc.]

[157] [Lit.,˜bright diamond.]

[158] Lamentations iv, 7-8.

[159] [Lit., mÃ¡s resplandecientes,˜more brilliant,˜more luminous.]

[160] [Lit., plazas (derived from the Latin plateas), which now, however,
has the meaning ofsquares,˜(market) places.]

[161] [˜Clearer here is mÃ¡s claros; the adjective is rendered˜bright
elsewhere.]

[162] [The words translated˜unruly,˜disordered, here and elsewhere, and
occasionally˜unrestrained, are the same in the original: desordenado.]

[163] [The Spanish of the text reads literally:˜in a union.]

[164] [The verb is pintar,˜paint: perhaps˜corrupt is intended. The same
verb occurs in the following sentence.]

[165] Ezechiel viii, 10.

[166] [Ezechiel viii, 12.]

[167] Ezechiel viii, 14.

[168] Ezechiel viii, 16.

[169] [Lit.,˜revolves˜turns over in its mind in our common idiom.]
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CHAPTER X

Wherein is described how the desires weaken the soul in virtue and make it
lukewarm.

The fifth way in which the desires harm the soul is by making it lukewarm
and weak, so that it has no strength to follow after virtue and to persevere
therein. For as the strength of the desire, when it is set upon various
aims, is less than if it were set wholly on one thing alone, and as, the
more are the aims whereon it is set, the less of it there is for each of
them, for this cause philosophers say that virtue in union is stronger than
if it be dispersed. Wherefore it is clear that, if the desire of the will be
dispersed among other things than virtue, it must be weaker as regards
virtue. And thus the soul whose will is set upon various trifles is like
water, which, having a place below wherein to empty itself, never rises; and
such a soul has no profit. For this cause the patriarch Jacob compared his
son Ruben to water poured out, because in a certain sin he had given rein to
his desires. And he said:˜Thou art poured out like water; grow thou not.
[170] As though he had said: Since thou art poured out like water as to the
desires, thou shalt not grow in virtue. And thus, as hot water, when
uncovered, readily loses heat, and as aromatic spices, when they are
unwrapped, gradually lose the fragrance and strength of their perfume, even
so the soul that is not recollected in one single desire for God loses heat
and vigour in its virtue. This was well understood by David, when he said,
speaking with God: I will keep my strength for Thee. [171] That is,
concentrating the strength of my desires upon Thee alone.

2. And the desires weaken the virtue of the soul, because they are to it
like the shoots that grow about a tree, and take away its virtue so that it
cannot bring forth so much fruit. And of such souls as these says the Lord:
Vae praegnantibus, et nutrientibus in illis diebus. [172] That is: Woe to
them that in those days are with child and to them that give suck. This
being with child and giving suck is understood with respect to the desires;
which, if they be not pruned, will ever be taking more virtue from the soul,
and will grow to the harm of the soul, like the shoots upon the tree.
Wherefore Our Lord counsels us, saying: Have your loins girt about [173]
the loins signifying here the desires. And indeed, they are also like
leeches, which are ever sucking the blood from the veins, for thus the
Preacher terms them when he says: The leeches are the daughters that is,
the desires saying ever: Daca, daca. [174]

3. From this it is clear that the desires bring no good to the soul but
rather take from it that which it has; and, if it mortify them not, they
will not cease till they have wrought in it that which the children of the
viper are said to work in their mother; who, as they are growing within her
womb, consume her and kill her, and they themselves remain alive at her
cost. Just so the desires that are not mortified grow to such a point that
they kill the soul with respect to God because it has not first killed them.
And they alone live in it. Wherefore the Preacher says: Aufer a me Domine
ventris concupiscentias. [175]

4. And, even though they reach not this point, it is very piteous to
consider how the desires that live in this poor soul treat it, how unhappy
it is with regard to itself, how dry with respect to its neighbours, and how
weary and slothful with respect to the things of God. For there is no evil
humour that makes it as wearisome and difficult for a sick man to walk, or
gives him a distaste for eating comparable to the weariness and distaste for
following virtue which is given to a soul by desire for creatures. And thus
the reason why many souls have no diligence and eagerness to gain virtue is,
as a rule, that they have desires and affections which are not pure and are
not fixed upon God. [176]
_________________________________________________________________

[170] Genesis xlix, 4.

[171] Psalm lviii, 10 [A.V., lix, 9].

[172] St. Matthew xxix, 19.

[173] St. Luke xii, 25.

[174] Proverbs xxx, 15.

[175] Ecclesiasticus xxiii, 6. [In the original the last two sentences are
transposed.]

[176] [Lit.,˜not pure on (or˜in) God.]
_________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XI

Wherein it is proved necessary that the soul that would attain to Divine
union should be free from desires, however slight they be.

I expect that for a long time the reader has been wishing to ask whether it
be necessary, in order to attain to this high estate of perfection, to
undergo first of all total mortification in all the desires, great and
small, or if it will suffice to mortify some of them and to leave others,
those at least which seem of little moment. For it appears to be a severe
and most difficult thing for the soul to be able to attain to such purity
and detachment that it has no will and affection for anything.

2. To this I reply: first, that it is true that all the desires are not
equally hurtful, nor do they all equally embarrass the soul. I am speaking
of those that are voluntary, for the natural desires hinder the soul little,
if at all, from attaining to union, when they are not consented to nor pass
beyond the first movements (I mean, [177] all those wherein the rational
will has had no part, whether at first or afterward); and to take away these
that is, to mortify them wholly in this life is impossible. And these
hinder not the soul in such a way as to prevent its attainment to Divine
union, even though they be not, as I say, wholly mortified; for the natural
man may well have them, and yet the soul may be quite free from them
according to the rational spirit. For it will sometimes come to pass that
the soul will be in the full [178] union of the prayer of quiet in the will
at the very time when these desires are dwelling in the sensual part of the
soul, and yet the higher part, which is in prayer, will have nothing to do
with them. But all the other voluntary desires, whether they be of mortal
sin, which are the gravest, or of venial sin, which are less grave, or
whether they be only of imperfections, which are the least grave of all,
must be driven away every one, and the soul must be free from them all,
howsoever slight they be, if it is to come to this complete union; and the
reason is that the state of this Divine union consists in the souls total
transformation, according to the will, in the will of God, so that, there
may be naught in the soul that is contrary to the will of God, but that, in
all and through all, its movement may be that of the will of God alone.

3. It is for this reason that we say of this state that it is the making of
two wills into one namely, into the will of God, which will of God is
likewise the will of the soul. For if this soul desired any imperfection
that God wills not, there would not be made one will of God, since the soul
would have a will for that which God has not. It is clear, then, that for
the soul to come to unite itself perfectly with God through love and will,
it must first be free from all desire of the will, howsoever slight. That
is, that it must not intentionally and knowingly consent with the will to
imperfections, and it must have power and liberty to be able not so to
consent intentionally. I say knowingly, because, unintentionally and
unknowingly, or without having the power to do otherwise, it may well fall
into imperfections and venial sins, and into the natural desires whereof we
have spoken; for of such sins as these which are not voluntary and
surreptitious it is written that the just man shall fall seven times in the
day and shall rise up again. [179] But of the voluntary desires, which,
though they be for very small things, are, as I have said, intentional
venial sins, any one that is not conquered suffices to impede union. [180] I
mean, if this habit be not mortified; for sometimes certain acts of
different desires have not as much power when the habits are mortified.
Still, the soul will attain to the stage of not having even these, for they
likewise proceed from a habit of imperfection. But some habits of voluntary
imperfections, which are never completely conquered, prevent not only the
attainment of Divine union, but also progress in perfection.

4. These habitual imperfections are, for example, a common custom of much
speaking, or some slight attachment which we never quite wish to conquer
such as that to a person, a garment, a book, a cell, a particular kind of
food, tittle-tattle, fancies for tasting, knowing or hearing certain things,
and suchlike. Any one of these imperfections, if the soul has become
attached and habituated to it, is of as great harm to its growth and
progress in virtue as though it were to fall daily into many other
imperfections and usual venial sins which proceed not from a habitual
indulgence in any habitual and harmful attachment, and will not hinder it so
much as when it has attachment to anything. For as long as it has this there
is no possibility that it will make progress in perfection, even though the
imperfection be extremely slight. For it comes to the same thing whether a
bird be held by a slender cord or by a stout one; since, even if it be
slender, the bird will be well held as though it were stout, for so long as
it breaks it not and flies not away. It is true that the slender one is the
easier to break; still, easy though it be, the bird will not fly away if it
be not broken. And thus the soul that has attachment to anything, however
much virtue it possess, will not attain to the liberty of Divine union. For
the desire and the attachment of the soul have that power which the
sucking-fish [181] is said to have when it clings to a ship; for, though but
a very small fish, if it succeed in clinging to the ship, it makes it
incapable of reaching the port, or of sailing on at all. It is sad to see
certain souls in this plight; like rich vessels, they are laden with wealth
and good works and spiritual exercises, and with the virtues and the favours
that God grants them; and yet, because they have not the resolution to break
with some whim or attachment or affection (which all come to the same
thing), they never make progress or reach the port of perfection, though
they would need to do no more than make one good flight and thus to snap
that cord of desire right off, or to rid themselves of that sucking-fish of
desire which clings to them.

5. It is greatly to be lamented that, when God has granted them strength to
break other and stouter cords [182] namely, affections for sins and
vanities they should fail to attain to such blessing because they have not
shaken off some childish thing which God had bidden them conquer for love of
Him, and which is nothing more than a thread or a hair. [183] And, what is
worse, not only do they make no progress, but because of this attachment
they fall back, lose that which they have gained, and retrace that part of
the road along which they have travelled at the cost of so much time and
labour; for it is well known that, on this road, not to go forward is to
turn back, and not to be gaining is to be losing. This Our Lord desired to
teach us when He said:˜He that is not with Me is against Me; and he that
gathereth not with Me scattereth. [184] He that takes not the trouble to
repair the vessel, however slight be the crack in it, is likely to spill all
the liquid that is within it. The Preacher taught us this clearly when he
said: He that contemneth small things shall fall by little and little. [185]
For, as he himself says, a great fire cometh from a single spark. [186] And
thus one imperfection is sufficient to lead to another; and these lead to
yet more; wherefore you will hardly ever see a soul that is negligent in
conquering one desire, and that has not many more arising from the same
weakness and imperfection that this desire causes. In this way they are
continually filling; we have seen many persons to whom God has been granting
the favour of leading them a long way, into a state of great detachment and
liberty, yet who, merely through beginning to indulge some slight
attachment, under the pretext of doing good, or in the guise of conversation
and friendship, often lose their spirituality and desire for God and holy
solitude, fall from the joy and wholehearted devotion which they had in
their spiritual exercises, and cease not until they have lost everything;
and this because they broke not with that beginning of sensual desire and
pleasure and kept not themselves in solitude for God.

6. Upon this road we must ever journey in order to attain our goal; which
means that we must ever be mortifying our desires and not indulging them;
and if they are not all completely mortified we shall not completely attain.
For even as a log of wood may fail to be transformed in the fire because a
single degree of heat is wanting to it, even so the soul will not be
transformed in God if it have but one imperfection, although it be something
less than voluntary desire; for, as we shall say hereafter concerning the
night of faith, the soul has only one will, and that will, if it be
embarrassed by aught and set upon by aught, is not free, solitary, and pure,
as is necessary for Divine transformation.

7. Of this that has been said we have a figure in the Book of the Judges,
where it is related that the angel came to the children of Israel and said
to them that, because they had not destroyed that forward people, but had
made a league with some of them, they would therefore be left among them as
enemies, that they might be to them an occasion of stumbling and perdition.
[187] And just so does God deal with certain souls: though He has taken them
out of the world, and slain the giants, their sins, and destroyed the
multitude of their enemies, which are the occasions of sin that they
encountered in the world, solely that they may enter this Promised Land of
Divine union with greater liberty, yet they harbour friendship and make
alliance with the insignificant peoples [188] that is, with imperfections
and mortify them not completely; therefore Our Lord is angry, and allows
them to fall into their desires and go from bad to worse.

8. In the Book of Josue, again, we have a figure of what has just been said
where we read that God commanded Josue, at the time that he had to enter
into possession of the Promised Land, to destroy all things that were in the
city of Jericho, in such wise as to leave therein nothing alive, man or
woman, young or old, and to slay all the beasts, and to take naught, neither
to covet aught, of all the spoils. [189] This He said that we may understand
how, if a man is to enter this Divine union, all that lives in his soul must
die, both little and much, small and great, and that the soul must be
without desire for all this, and detached from it, even as though it existed
not for the soul, neither the soul for it. This Saint Paul teaches us
clearly in his epistle ad Corinthios, saying:˜This I say to you, brethren,
that the time is short; it remains, and it behoves you, that they that have
wives should be as if they had none; and they that weep for the things of
this world, as though they wept not; and they that rejoice, as if they
rejoiced not; and they that buy, as though they possessed not; and they that
use this world, as if they used it not. [190] This the Apostle says to us
in order to teach us how complete must be the detachment of our soul from
all things if it is to journey to God.
_________________________________________________________________

[177] [The original has no such explanatory phrase.]

[178] [That is, will be enjoying all the union that the prayer of quiet
gives.]

[179] Proverbs xxiv, 16.

[180] [The original omits˜union.]

[181] [Or˜remora.]

[182] [cordeles: a stronger word than that used above (hilo), which, if the
context would permit, might better be translatedstring its equivalent
in modern speech. Below, hilo is translated˜thread.]

[183] [Hilo, rendered˜thread, as explained in n. 4 above, can also be
taken in the stronger sense of˜cord.]

[184] St. Matthew xii, 30.

[185] Ecclesiasticus xix, 1.

[186] [Lit.,˜the fire is increased by a single spark.] Ecclesiasticus xi,
34 [A.V., xi, 32].

[187] Judges ii, 3.

[188] [The original phrase (gente menuda) means˜little folk. It is used of
children and sometimes also of insects and other small creatures. There is a
marked antithesis between the˜giants, or sins, and the˜little folk, or
imperfections.]

[189] Josue vi, 21.

[190] 1 Corinthians vii, 29-31.
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CHAPTER XII

Which treats of the answer to another question, explaining what the desires
are that suffice to cause the evils aforementioned in the soul.

We might write at greater length upon this matter of the night of sense,
saying all that there is to say concerning the harm which is caused by the
desires, not only in the ways aforementioned, but in many others. But for
our purpose that which has been said suffices; for we believe we have made
it clear in what way the mortification of these desires is called night, and
how it behoves us to enter this night in order to journey to God. The only
thing that remains, before we treat of the manner of entrance therein, in
order to bring this part to a close, is a question concerning what has been
said which might occur to the reader.

2. It may first be asked if any desire can be sufficient to work and produce
in the soul the two evils aforementioned namely, the privative, which
consists in depriving the soul of the grace of God, and the positive, which
consists in producing within it the five serious evils whereof we have
spoken. Secondly, it may be asked if any desire, however slight it be and of
whatever kind, suffices to produce all these together, or if some desires
produce some and others produce others. If, for example, some produce
torment; others, weariness; others, darkness, etc.

3. Answering this question, I say, first of all, that with respect to the
privative evil which consists in the souls being deprived of God this
is wrought wholly, and can only be wrought, by the voluntary desires, which
are of the matter of mortal sin; for they deprive the soul of grace in this
life, and of glory, which is the possession of God, in the next. In the
second place, I say that both those desires which are of the matter of
mortal sin, and the voluntary desires, which are of the matter of venial
sin, and those that are of the matter of imperfection, are each sufficient
to produce in the soul all these positive evils together; the which evils,
although in a certain way they are privative, we here call positive, since
they correspond to a turning towards the creature, even as the privative
evils correspond to a turning away from God. But there is this difference,
that the desires which are of mortal sin produce total blindness, torment,
impurity, weakness, etc. Those others, however, which are of the matter of
venial sin or imperfection, produce not these evils in a complete and
supreme degree, since they deprive not the soul of grace, upon the loss of
which depends the possession of them, since the death of the soul is their
life; but they produce them in the soul remissly, proportionately to the
remission of grace which these desires produce in the soul. [191] So that
desire which most weakens grace will produce the most abundant torment,
blindness and defilement.

4. It should be noted, however, that, although each desire produces all
these evils, which we here term positive, there are some which, principally
and directly, produce some of them, and others which produce others, and the
remainder are produced consequently upon these. For, although it is true
that one sensual desire produces all these evils, yet its principal and
proper effect is the defilement of soul and body. And, although one
avaricious desire produces them all, its principal and direct result is to
produce misery. And, although similarly one vainglorious desire produces
them all, its principal and direct result is to produce darkness and
blindness. And, although one gluttonous desire produces them all, its
principal result is to produce lukewarmness in virtue. And even so is it
with the rest.

5. And the reason why any act of voluntary desire produces in the soul all
these effects together lies in the direct contrariety which exists between
them and all the acts of virtue which produce the contrary effects in the
soul. For, even as an act of virtue produces and begets in the soul
sweetness, peace, consolation, light, cleanness and fortitude altogether,
even so an unruly desire causes torment, fatigue, weariness, blindness and
weakness. All the virtues grow through the practice of any one of them, and
all the vices grow through the practice of any one of them likewise, and the
remnants [192] of each grow in the soul. And although all these evils are
not evident at the moment when the desire is indulged, since the resulting
pleasure gives no occasion for them, yet the evil remnants which they leave
are clearly perceived, whether before or afterwards. This is very well
illustrated by that book which the angel commanded Saint John to eat, in the
Apocalypse, the which book was sweetness to his mouth, and in his belly
bitterness. [193] For the desire, when it is carried into effect, is sweet
and appears to be good, but its bitter taste is felt afterwards; the truth
of this can be clearly proved by anyone who allows himself to be led away by
it. Yet I am not ignorant that there are some men so blind and insensible as
not to feel this, for, as they do not walk in God, they are unable to
perceive that which hinders them from approaching Him.

6. I am not writing here of the other natural desires which are not
voluntary, and of thoughts that go not beyond the first movements, and other
temptations to which the soul is not consenting; for these produce in the
soul none of the evils aforementioned. For, although a person who suffers
from them may think that the passion and disturbance which they then produce
in him are defiling and blinding him, this is not the case; rather they are
bringing him the opposite advantages. For, in so far as he resists them, he
gains fortitude, purity, light and consolation, and many blessings, even as
Our Lord said to Saint Paul: That virtue was made perfect in weakness. [194]
But the voluntary desires work all the evils aforementioned, and more.
Wherefore the principal care of spiritual masters is to mortify their
disciples immediately with respect to any desire soever, by causing them to
remain without the objects of their desires, in order to free them from such
great misery.
_________________________________________________________________

[191] [The word here translated˜remissness is rendered˜remission in the
text, where it seems to have a slightly different meaning.]

[192] [The word translated˜remnants also means˜after-taste.]

[193] Apocalypse x, 9.

[194] 2 Corinthians xii, 9. [˜Virtue had often, in the authors day, much
of the meaning of the modern wordstrength.]
_________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XIII

Wherein is described the manner and way which the soul must follow in order
to enter this night of sense.

It now remains for me to give certain counsels whereby the soul may know how
to enter this night of sense and may be able so to do. To this end it must
be known that the soul habitually enters this night of sense in two ways:
the one is active; the other passive. The active way consists in that which
the soul can do, and does, of itself, in order to enter therein, whereof we
shall now treat in the counsels which follow. The passive way is that
wherein the soul does nothing, and God works in it, and it remains, as it
were, patient. Of this we shall treat in the fourth book, where we shall be
treating of beginners. And because there, with the Divine favour, we shall
give many counsels to beginners, according to the many imperfections which
they are apt to have while on this road, I shall not spend time in giving
many here. And this, too, because it belongs not to this place to give them,
as at present we are treating only of the reasons for which this journey is
called a night, and of what kind it is, and how many parts it has. But, as
it seems that it would be incomplete, and less profitable than it should be,
if we gave no help or counsel here for walking in this night of desires, I
have thought well to set down briefly here the way which is to be followed:
and I shall do the same at the end of each of the next two parts, or causes,
of this night, whereof, with the help of the Lord, I have to treat.

2. These counsels for the conquering of the desires, which now follow,
albeit brief and few, I believe to be as profitable and efficacious as they
are concise; so that one who sincerely desires to practice them will need no
others, but will find them all included in these.

3. First, let him have an habitual desire [195] to imitate Christ in
everything that he does, conforming himself to His life; upon which life he
must meditate so that he may know how to imitate it, and to behave in all
things as Christ would behave.

4. Secondly, in order that he may be able to do this well, every pleasure
that presents itself to the senses, if it be not purely for the honour and
glory of God, must be renounced and completely rejected for the love of
Jesus Christ, Who in this life had no other pleasure, neither desired any,
than to do the will of His Father, which He called His meat and food. [196]
I take this example. If there present itself to a man the pleasure of
listening to things that tend not to the service and honour of God, let him
not desire that pleasure, nor desire to listen to them; and if there present
itself the pleasure of looking at things that help him not Godward, let him
not desire the pleasure or look at these things; and if in conversation or
in aught else soever such pleasure present itself, let him act likewise. And
similarly with respect to all the senses, in so far as he can fairly avoid
the pleasure in question; if he cannot, it suffices that, although these
things may be present to his senses, he desires not to have this pleasure.
And in this wise he will be able to mortify and void his senses of such
pleasure, as though they were in darkness. If he takes care to do this, he
will soon reap great profit.

5. For the mortifying and calming of the four natural passions, which are
joy, hope, fear and grief, from the concord and pacification whereof come
these and other blessings, the counsels here following are of the greatest
help, and of great merit, and the source of great virtues.

6. Strive always to prefer, not that which is easiest, but that which is
most difficult;

Not that which is most delectable, but that which is most unpleasing;

Not that which gives most pleasure, but rather that which gives least;

Not that which is restful, but that which is wearisome;

Not that which is consolation, but rather that which is disconsolateness;

Not that which is greatest, but that which is least;

Not that which is loftiest and most precious, but that which is lowest and
most despised;

Not that which is [197] a desire for anything, but that which is a desire
for nothing;

Strive to go about seeking not the best of temporal things, but the worst.

Strive thus to desire to enter into complete detachment and emptiness and
poverty, with respect to everything that is in the world, for Christs sake.

7. And it is meet that the soul embrace these acts with all its heart and
strive to subdue its will thereto. For, if it perform them with its heart,
it will very quickly come to find in them great delight and consolation, and
to act with order and discretion.

8. These things that have been said, if they be faithfully put into
practice, are quite sufficient for entrance into the night of sense; but,
for greater completeness, we shall describe another kind of exercise which
teaches us to mortify the concupiscence of the flesh and the concupiscence
of the eyes, and the pride of life, which, says Saint John, [198] are the
things that reign in the world, from which all the other desires proceed.

9. First, let the soul strive to work in its own despite, and desire all to
do so. Secondly, let it strive to speak in its own despite and desire all to
do so. Third, let it strive to think humbly of itself, in its own despite,
and desire all to do so.

10. To conclude these counsels and rules, it will be fitting to set down
here those lines which are written in the Ascent of the Mount, which is the
figure that is at the beginning of this book; the which lines are
instructions for ascending to it, and thus reaching the summit of union.
For, although it is true that that which is there spoken of is spiritual and
interior, there is reference likewise to the spirit of imperfection
according to sensual and exterior things, as may be seen by the two roads
which are on either side of the path of perfection. It is in this way and
according to this sense that we shall understand them here; that is to say,
according to that which is sensual. Afterwards, in the second part of this
night, they will be understood according to that which is spiritual. [199]

11. The lines are these:

In order to arrive at having pleasure in everything,

Desire to have pleasure in nothing.

In order to arrive at possessing everything,

Desire to possess nothing.

In order to arrive at being everything,

Desire to be nothing.

In order to arrive at knowing everything,

Desire to know nothing. [200]

In order to arrive at that wherein thou hast no pleasure,

Thou must go by a way wherein thou hast no pleasure.

In order to arrive at that which thou knowest not,

Thou must go by a way that thou knowest not.

In order to arrive at that which thou possessest not,

Thou must go by a way that thou possessest not.

In order to arrive at that which thou art not,

Thou must go through that which thou art not.

12. When thy mind dwells upon anything,

Thou art ceasing to cast thyself upon the All. For, in order to pass from
the all to the All, Thou hast to deny thyself wholly [201] in all. And,
when thou comest to possess it wholly, Thou must possess it without
desiring anything. For, if thou wilt have anything in having all, [202]
Thou hast not thy treasure purely in God.

13. In this detachment the spiritual soul finds its quiet and repose; for,
since it covets nothing, nothing wearies it when it is lifted up, and
nothing oppresses it when it is cast down, because it is in the centre of
its humility; but when it covets anything, at that very moment it becomes
wearied.
_________________________________________________________________

[195] [The word used for desire is apetito, which has been used in the past
chapters for desires of sense (cf. chap. I, above).]

[196] [St. John iv, 34.]

[197] Lit.,˜Not that which is to desire anything, etc.]

[198] [1 St. John ii, 16.]

[199] The Saint does not, however, allude to these lines again. The order
followed below is that of Alc., which differs somewhat from that followed in
the diagram.

[200] [This line, like ll. 6, 8 of the paragraph, reads more literally:
˜Desire not to possess (be, know) anything in anything. It is more emphatic
than l. 2.]

[201] [There is a repetition here which could only be indicated by
translating˜all-ly. So, too, in the next couplet.]

[202] [Lit.˜anything in all.]
_________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XIV

Wherein is expounded the second line of the stanza.

Kindled in love with yearnings.

Now that we have expounded the first line of this stanza, which treats of
the night of sense, explaining what this night of sense is, and why it is
called night; and now that we have likewise described the order and manner
which are to be followed for a soul to enter therein actively, the next
thing to be treated in due sequence is its properties and effects, which are
wonderful, and are described in the next lines of the stanza aforementioned,
upon which I will briefly touch for the sake of expounding the said lines,
as I promised in the Prologue; [203] and I will then pass on at once to the
second book, treating of the other part of this night, which is the
spiritual.

2. The soul, then, says that,˜kindled in love with yearnings, it passed
through this dark night of sense and came out thence to the union of the
Beloved. For, in order to conquer all the desires and to deny itself the
pleasures which it has in everything, and for which its love and affection
are wont to enkindle the will that it may enjoy them, it would need to
experience another and a greater enkindling by an other and a better love,
which is that of its Spouse; to the end that, having its pleasure set upon
Him and deriving from Him its strength, it should have courage and constancy
to deny itself all other things with ease. And, in order to conquer the
strength of the desires of sense, it would need, not only to have love for
its Spouse, but also to be enkindled by love and to have yearnings. For it
comes to pass, and so it is, that with such yearnings of desire the sensual
nature is moved and attracted toward sensual things, so that, if the
spiritual part be not enkindled with other and greater yearnings for that
which is spiritual, it will be unable to throw off the yoke of nature [204]
or to enter this night of sense, neither will it have courage to remain in
darkness as to all things, depriving itself of desire for them all.

3. And the nature and all the varieties of these yearnings of love which
souls experience in the early stages of this road to union; and the diligent
means and contrivances which they employ in order to leave their house,
which is self-will, during the night of the mortification of their senses;
and how easy, and even sweet and delectable, these yearnings for the Spouse
make all the trials and perils of this night to appear to them, this is not
the place to describe, neither is such description possible; for it is
better to know and meditate upon these things than to write of them. And so
we shall pass on to expound the remaining lines in the next chapter.
_________________________________________________________________

[203] This confirms our point (Bk. I, chap. ii, 6, above) that the Saint
considers the Argument as part of the Prologue.

[204] Lit.,˜to conquer the natural yoke.]
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CHAPTER XV

Wherein are expounded the remaining lines of the aforementioned stanza.

. . . oh, happy chance!

I went forth without being observed, My house being now at rest.

These lines take as a metaphor the miserable estate of captivity, a mans
deliverance from which, when none of the gaolers hinder his release, he
considers a˜happy chance. For the soul, on account of [205] original sin,
is truly as it were a captive in this mortal body, subject to the passions
and desires of nature, from bondage and subjection to which it considers its
having gone forth without being observed as a˜happy chance having gone
forth, that is, without being impeded or engulfed [206] by any of them.

2. For to this end the soul profited by going forth upon a˜dark night
that is, in the privation of all pleasures and mortification of all desires,
after the manner whereof we have spoken. And by its˜house being now at
rest is meant the sensual part, which is the house of all the desires, and
is now at rest because they have all been overcome and lulled to sleep. For
until the desires are lulled to sleep through the mortification of the
sensual nature, and until at last the sensual nature itself is at rest from
them, so that they make not war upon the spirit, the soul goes not forth to
true liberty and to the fruition of union with its Beloved.

END OF THE FIRST BOOK
_________________________________________________________________

[205] [Lit.,˜after.]

[206] [Lit.,˜comprehended.]
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_________________________________________________________________

BOOK THE SECOND

OF THE˜ASCENT OF MT. CARMEL

Wherein is treated the proximate means of ascending to union with God, which
is faith; and wherein therefore is described the second part of this night,
which, as we said, belongs to the spirit, and is contained in the second
stanza, which is as follows.
_________________________________________________________________

STANZA THE SECOND

CHAPTER I

In darkness and secure, By the secret ladder, disguised oh, happy chance!

In darkness and in concealment, My house being now at rest.

In this second stanza the soul sings of the happy chance which it
experienced in stripping the spirit of all spiritual imperfections and
desires for the possession of spiritual things. This was a much greater
happiness to, by reason of the greater difficulty that there is in putting
to rest this house of the spiritual part, and of being able to enter this
interior darkness, which is spiritual detachment from all things, whether
sensual or spiritual, and leaning on pure faith alone and an ascent thereby
to God. The soul here calls this a˜ladder, andsecret, because all the
rungs and parts of it [207] are secret and hidden from all sense and
understanding. And thus the soul has remained in darkness as to all light of
sense and understanding, going forth beyond all limits of nature and reason
in order to ascend by this Divine ladder of faith, which attains [208] and
penetrates even to the heights [209] of God. The soul says that it was
travelling˜disguised, because the garments and vesture which it wears and
its natural condition are changed into the Divine, as it ascends by faith.
And it was because of this disguise that it was not recognized or impeded,
either by time or by reason or by the devil; for none of these things can
harm one that journeys in faith. And not only so, but the soul travels in
such wise concealed and hidden and is so far from all the deceits of the
devil that in truth it journeys (as it also says here)˜in darkness and in
concealment that is to say, hidden from the devil, to whom the light of
faith is more than darkness.

2. And thus the soul that journeys through this night, we may say, journeys
in concealment and in hiding from the devil, as will be more clearly seen
hereafter. Wherefore the soul says that it went forth˜in darkness and
secure; for one that has such happiness as to be able to journey through
the darkness of faith, taking faith for his guide, like to one that is
blind, [210] and leaving behind all natural imaginings and spiritual
reasonings, journeys very securely, as we have said. And so the soul says
furthermore that it went forth through this spiritual night, its˜house
being now at rest that is to say, its spiritual and rational parts. When,
therefore, the soul attains to union which is of God, its natural faculties
are at rest, as are likewise its impulses and yearnings of the senses, in
its spiritual part. For this cause the soul says not here that it went forth
with yearnings, as in the first night of sense. For, in order to journey in
the night of sense, and to strip itself of that which is of sense, it needed
yearnings of sense-love so that it might go forth perfectly; but, in order
to put to rest the house of its spirit, it needs no more than denial [211]
of all faculties and pleasures and desires of the spirit in pure faith. This
attained, the soul is united with the Beloved in a union of simplicity and
purity and love and similitude.

3. And it must be remembered that the first stanza, speaking of the sensual
part, says that the soul went forth upon˜a dark night, and here, speaking
of the spiritual part, it says that it went forth˜in darkness. For the
darkness of the spiritual part is by far the greater, even as darkness is a
greater obscurity than that of night. For, however dark a night may be,
something can always be seen, but in true darkness nothing can be seen; and
thus in the night of sense there still remains some light, for the
understanding and reason remain, and are not blinded. But this spiritual
night, which is faith, deprives the soul of everything, both as to
understanding and as to sense. And for this cause the soul in this night
says that it was journeying˜in darkness and secure, which it said not in
the other. For, the less the soul works with its own ability, the more
securely it journeys, because it journeys more in faith. And this will be
expounded at length in the course of this second book, wherein it will be
necessary for the devout reader to proceed attentively, because there will
be said herein things of great importance to the person that is truly
spiritual. [212] And, although they are somewhat obscure, some of them will
pave the way to others, so that I believe they will all be quite clearly
understood.
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[207] [Lit.,˜all the steps and articles that it has.]

[208] [Lit.,˜climbs: the verb (escala) is identical with the noun
˜ladder (escala).]

[209] [Lit.,˜to the depths.]

[210] [The literal translation is shorter, viz.˜taking faith for a blind
mans guide.]

[211] [Lit.,˜negation.] This is the reading of Alc.˜Affirmation is found
in A, B, C, D, e.p. Though the two words are antithetical, they express the
same underlying concept. [The affirmation, or establishment, of all the
powers and desires of the spirit upon pure faith, so that they may be ruled
by pure faith alone, is equivalent to the denial, or negation, of those
powers and desires in so far as they are not ruled by pure faith.]

[212] [Lit.,˜to true spirit.]
_________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER II

Which begins to treat of the second part or cause of this night, which is
faith. Proves by two arguments how it is darker than the first and than the
third.

We now go on to treat of the second part of this night, which is faith; this
is the wondrous means which, as we said, leads to the goal, which is God,
Who, as we said, [213] is also to the soul, naturally, the third cause or
part of this night. For faith, which is the means, [214] is compared with
midnight. And thus we may say that it is darker for the soul either than the
first part or, in a way, than the third; for the first part, which is that
of sense, is compared to the beginning of night, or the time when sensible
objects can no longer be seen, and thus it is not so far removed from light
as is midnight. The third part, which is the period preceding the dawn, is
quite close to the light of day, and it, too, therefore, is not so dark as
midnight; for it is now close to the enlightenment and illumination of the
light of day, which is compared with God. For, although it is true, if we
speak after a natural manner, that God is as dark a night to the soul as is
faith, still, when these three parts of the night are over, which are
naturally night to the soul, God begins to illumine the soul by supernatural
means with the ray of His Divine light; which is the beginning of the
perfect union that follows, when the third night is past, and it can thus be
said to be less dark.

2. It is likewise darker than the first night, for this belongs to the lower
part of man, which is the sensual part, and, consequently, the more
exterior; and this second part, which is of faith, belongs to the higher
part of man, which is the rational part, and, in consequence, more interior
and more obscure, since it deprives it of the light of reason, or, to speak
more clearly, blinds it; [215] and thus it is aptly compared to midnight,
which is the depth of night and the darkest part thereof.

3. We have now to prove how this second part, which is faith, is night to
the spirit, even as the first part is night to sense. And we shall then also
describe the things that are contrary to it, and how the soul must prepare
itself actively to enter it. For, concerning the passive part, which is that
which God works in it, when He brings it into that night, we shall speak in
its place, which I intend shall be the third book.
_________________________________________________________________

[213] [I, ii, above.]

[214] [Cf. I, ii, above.]

[215] This was another of the propositions which were cited by those who
denounced the writings of St. John of the Cross to the Holy Office. It is
interpretable, nevertheless, in a sense that is perfectly true and
completely in conformity with Catholic doctrine. The Saint does not, in
these words, affirm that faith destroys nature or quenches the light of
human reason (St. Thomas, Summa, Pt. 1, q. 1, a. 8, et alibi); what he
endeavors to show is that the coming of knowledge through faith excludes a
simultaneous coming of natural knowledge through reason. It is only in this
way that, in the act of faith, the soul is deprived of the light of reason,
and left, as it were, in blindness, so that it may be raised to another
nobler and sublimer kind of knowledge, which, far from destroying reason,
gives it dignity and perfection. Philosophy teaches that the proper and
connatural object of the understanding, in this life, is things visible,
material and corporeal. By his nature, man inclines to knowledge of this
kind, but cannot lay claim to such knowledge as regards the things which
belong to faith. For, to quote a famous verse of Scripture: Fides est
sperandarum substantia rerum, argumentum non apparientium (Hebrews xi, 1).
This line of thought is not confined to St. John of the Cross, but is
followed by all the mystics and is completely in agreement with theological
doctrine. Cf. Respuesta [Reply] of P. Basilio Ponce de LeÃ³n and Dilucidatio,
Pt. II, Chap. ii, and also the following chapter in this present book.
_________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER III

How faith is dark night to the soul. This is proved with arguments and
quotations and figures from Scripture.

Faith, say the theologians, is a habit of the soul, certain and obscure. And
the reason for its being an obscure habit is that it makes us believe truths
revealed by God Himself, which transcend all natural light, and exceed all
human understanding, beyond all proportion. Hence it follows that, for the
soul, this excessive light of faith which is given to it is thick darkness,
for it overwhelms greater things and does away with small things, even as
the light of the sun overwhelms all other lights whatsoever, so that when it
shines and disables our visual faculty they appear not to be lights at all.
So that it blinds it and deprives it of the sight that has been given to it,
inasmuch as its light is great beyond all proportion and transcends the
faculty of vision. Even so the light of faith, by its excessive greatness,
oppresses and disables that of the understanding; for the latter, of its own
power, extends only to natural knowledge, although it has a faculty [216]
for the supernatural, whenever Our Lord is pleased to give it supernatural
activity.

2. Wherefore a man can know nothing by himself, save after a natural manner,
[217] which is only that which he attains by means of the senses. For this
cause he must have the phantasms and the forms of objects present in
themselves and in their likenesses; otherwise it cannot be, for, as
philosophers say: Ab objecto et potentia paritur notitia. That is: From the
object that is present and from the faculty, knowledge is born in the soul.
Wherefore, if one should speak to a man of things which he has never been
able to understand, and whose likeness he has never seen, he would have no
more illumination from them whatever than if naught had been said of them to
him. I take an example. If one should say to a man that on a certain island
there is an animal which he has never seen, and give him no idea of the
likeness of that animal, that he may compare it with others that he has
seen, he will have no more knowledge of it, or idea of its form, than he had
before, however much is being said to him about it. And this will be better
understood by another and a more apt example. If one should describe to a
man that was born blind, and has never seen any colour, what is meant by a
white colour or by a yellow, he would understand it but indifferently,
however fully one might describe it to him; for, as he has never seen such
colours or anything like them by which he may judge them, only their names
would remain with him; for these he would be able to comprehend through the
ear, but not their forms or figures, since he has never seen them.

3. Even so is faith with respect to the soul; it tells us of things which we
have never seen or understood, nor have we seen or understood aught that
resembles them, since there is naught that resembles them at all. And thus
we have no light of natural knowledge concerning them, since that which we
are told of them bears no relation to any sense of ours; we know it by the
ear alone, believing that which we are taught, bringing our natural light
into subjection and treating it as if it were not. [218] For, as Saint Paul
says, Fides ex auditu. [219] As though he were to say: Faith is not
knowledge which enters by any of the senses, but is only the consent given
by the soul to that which enters through the ear.

4. And faith far transcends even that which is indicated by the examples
given above. For not only does it give no information and knowledge, but, as
we have said, it deprives us of all other information and knowledge, and
blinds us to them, so that they cannot judge it well. For other knowledge
can be acquired by the light of the understanding; but the knowledge that is
of faith is acquired without the illumination of the understanding, which is
rejected for faith; and in its own light, if that light be not darkened, it
is lost. Wherefore Isaias said: Si non credideritis, non intelligetis. [220]
That is: If ye believe not, ye shall not understand. It is clear, then, that
faith is dark night for the soul, and it is in this way that it gives it
light; and the more the soul is darkened, the greater is the light that
comes to it. For it is by blinding that it gives light, according to this
saying of Isaias. For if ye believe not, ye shall not (he says) have light.
[221] And thus faith was foreshadowed by that cloud which divided the
children of Israel and the Egyptians when the former were about to enter the
Red Sea, whereof Scripture says: Erat nubes tenebrosa, et illuminans noctem.
[222] This is to say that that cloud was full of darkness and gave light to
the night.

5. A wondrous thing it is that, though it was dark, it should give light to
the night. This was said to show that faith, which is a black and dark cloud
to the soul (and likewise is night, since in the presence of faith the soul
is deprived of its natural light and is blinded), can with its darkness give
light and illumination to the darkness of the soul, for it was fitting that
the disciples should thus be like the master. For man, who is in darkness,
could not fittingly be enlightened save by other darkness, even as David
teaches us, saying: Dies diei eructat verbum et nox nocti indicat scientiam.
[223] Which signifies: Day unto day uttereth and aboundeth in speech, and
night unto night showeth knowledge. Which, to speak more clearly, signifies:
The day, which is God in bliss, where it is day to the blessed angels and
souls who are now day, communicates and reveals to them the Word, which is
His Son, that they may know Him and enjoy Him. And the night, which is faith
in the Church Militant, where it is still night, shows knowledge is night to
the Church, and consequently to every soul, which knowledge is night to it,
since it is without clear beatific wisdom; and, in the presence of faith, it
is blind as to its natural light.

6. So that which is to be inferred from this that faith, because it is dark
night, gives light to the soul, which is in darkness, that there may come to
be fulfilled that which David likewise says to this purpose, in these works:
Et nox illuminatio mea in deliciis meis. [224] Which signifies: the night
will be illumination in my delights. Which is as much as to say: In the
delights of my pure contemplation and union with God, the night of faith
shall be my guide. Wherein he gives it clearly to be understood that the
soul must be in darkness in order to have light for this road.
_________________________________________________________________

[216] E .p.:˜an obediential faculty [potencia obediencial]: this phrase is
borrowed from the Schoolmen. Among the various divisions of the faculty are
two, natural and obediential. The first is that which is directed towards an
act within the sphere of nature, such as the cooling action of water and the
heating action of fire; the second is directed towards an act which exceeds
these powers, brought about by God, Who is outside the laws of nature and
can therefore work outside the natural domain. This obediential faculty
(called also˜receptive or˜passive) frequently figures in mystical
theology, since it is this that disposes the faculties of the soul for the
supernatural reception of the gifts of grace, all of which exceed natural
capacity.

[217] E.p.:˜a natural manner which has its beginning in the senses. Here
the Saint expounds a principle of scholastic philosophy summarized in the
axiom: Nihil est in intellectu quin prius non fuerit in sensu. This
principle, like many other great philosophical questions, has continually
been debated. St. John of the Cross will be found as a rule to follow the
philosophy most favored by the Church and is always rigidly orthodox.

[218] [Lit.,subjecting and blinding our natural light.]

[219] Romans x, 17.

[220] Isaias vii, 9. So Alc. The passage seems to be taken from the
Septuagint. [The Vulgate has non permanebitis.]

[221] [Lit.,˜If ye believe not, that is, ye shall not have light.]

[222] Exodus xiv, 20.

[223] Psalm xviii, 3 [A.V., xix, 2].

[224] Psalm cxxxviii, 11 [A.V., cxxxix, 11].
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CHAPTER IV

Treats in general of how the soul likewise must be in darkness, in so far as
this rests with itself, to the end that it may be effectively guided by
faith to the highest contemplation.

It is now, I think, becoming clear how faith is dark night to the soul, and
how the soul likewise must be dark, or in darkness as to its own light so
that it may allow itself to be guided by faith to this high goal of union.
But, in order that the soul may be able to do this, it will now be well to
continue describing, in somewhat greater detail, this darkness which it must
have, in order that it may enter into this abyss of faith. And thus in this
chapter I shall speak of it in a general way; and hereafter, with the Divine
favour, I shall continue to describe more minutely the way in which the soul
is to conduct itself that it may neither stray therein nor impede this
guide.

2. I say, then, that the soul, in order to be effectively guided to this
state by faith, must not only be in darkness with respect to that part that
concerns the creatures and temporal things, which is the sensual and the
lower part (whereof we have already treated), but that likewise it must be
blinded and darkened according to the part which has respect to God and to
spiritual things, which is the rational and higher part, whereof we are now
treating. For, in order that one may attain supernatural transformation, it
is clear that he must be plunged into darkness and carried far away from all
contained in his nature that is sensual and rational. For the word
supernatural means that which soars above the natural self; the natural
self, therefore, remains beneath it. For, although this transformation and
union is something that cannot be comprehended by human ability and sense,
the soul must completely and voluntarily void itself of all that can enter
into it, whether from above or from below I mean according to the
affection and will so far as this rests with itself. For who shall prevent
God from doing that which He will in the soul that is resigned, annihilated
and detached? But the soul must be voided of all such things as can enter
its capacity, so that, however many supernatural experiences it may have, it
will ever remain as it were detached from them and in darkness. It must be
like to a blind man, leaning upon dark faith, taking it for guide and light,
and leaning upon none of the things that he understands, experiences, feels
and imagines. For all these are darkness, which will cause him to stray; and
faith is above all that he understands and experiences and feels and
imagines. And, if he be not blinded as to this, and remain not in total
darkness, he attains not to that which is greater namely, that which is
taught by faith.

3. A blind man, if he be not quite blind, refuses to be led by a guide; and,
since he sees a little, he thinks it better to go in whatever happens to be
the direction which he can distinguish, because he sees none better; and
thus he can lead astray a guide who sees more than he, for after all it is
for him to say where he shall go rather than for the guide. In the same way
a soul may lean upon any knowledge of its own, or any feeling or experience
of God, yet, however great this may be, it is very little and far different
from what God is; and, in going along this road, a soul is easily led
astray, or brought to a standstill, because it will not remain in faith like
one that is blind, and faith is its true guide.

4. It is this that was meant by Saint Paul when he said: Accedentem ad Deum
oportet credere quod est. [225] Which signifies: He that would journey
towards union with God must needs believe in His Being. As though he had
said: He that would attain to being joined in a union with God must not walk
by understanding, neither lean upon experience or feeling or imagination,
but he must believe in His being, which is not perceptible to the
understanding, neither to the desire nor to the imagination nor to any other
sense, neither can it be known in this life at all. Yea, in this life, the
highest thing that can be felt and experienced concerning God is infinitely
remote from God and from the pure possession of Him. Isaias and Saint Paul
say: Nec oculus vidit, nec auris audivit, nec in cor hominis ascendit, qua
praeparavit Deus iis, qui diligunt illum. [226] Which signifies: That which
God hath prepared for them that love Him neither eye hath seen, nor ear
heard, neither hath it entered into the heart or thought of man. So, however
much the soul aspires to be perfectly united through grace in this life with
that to which it will be united through glory in the next (which, as Saint
Paul here says, eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered
into the heart of man in the flesh), it is clear that, in order perfectly to
attain to union in this life through grace and through love, a soul must be
in darkness with respect to all that can enter through the eye, and to all
that can be received through the ear, and can be imagined with the fancy,
and understood with the heart, which here signifies the soul. And thus a
soul is greatly impeded from reaching this high estate of union with God
when it clings to any understanding or feeling or imagination or appearance
or will or manner of its own, or to any other act or to anything of its own,
and cannot detach and strip itself of all these. For, as we say, the goal
which it seeks lies beyond all this, yea, beyond even the highest thing that
can be known or experienced; and thus a soul must pass beyond everything to
unknowing.

5. Wherefore, upon this road, to enter upon the road is to leave the road;
or, to express it better, it is to pass on to the goal and to leave ones
own way, [227] and to enter upon that which has no way, which is God. For
the soul that attains to this state has no longer any ways or methods, still
less is it attached to ways and methods, or is capable of being attached to
them. I mean ways of understanding, or of perception, or of feeling.
Nevertheless it has within itself all ways, after the way of one that
possesses nothing, yet possesses all things. [228] For, if it have courage
to pass beyond its natural limitations, both interiorly and exteriorly, it
enters within the limits of the supernatural, which has no way, yet in
substance has all ways. Hence for the soul to arrive at these limits is for
it to leave these limits, in each case going forth out of itself a great
way, from this lowly state to that which is high above all others.

6. Wherefore, passing beyond all that can be known and understood, both
spiritually and naturally, the soul will desire with all desire to come to
that which in this life cannot be known, neither can enter into its heart.
And, leaving behind all that it experiences and feels, both temporally and
spiritually, and all that it is able to experience and feel in this life, it
will desire with all desire to come to that which surpasses all feeling and
experience. And, in order to be free and void to that end, it must in no
wise lay hold upon that which it receives, either spiritually or sensually,
within itself [229] (as we shall explain presently, when we treat this in
detail), considering it all to be of much less account. For the more
emphasis the soul lays upon what it understands, experiences and imagines,
and the more it esteems this, whether it be spiritual or no, the more it
loses of the supreme good, and the more it is hindered from attaining
thereto. And the less it thinks of what it may have, however much this be,
in comparison with the highest good, the more it dwells upon that good and
esteems it, and, consequently, the more nearly it approaches it. And in this
wise the soul approaches a great way towards union, in darkness, by means of
faith, which is likewise dark, and in this wise faith wondrously illumines
it. It is certain that, if the soul should desire to see, it would be in
darkness much more quickly, with respect to God, than would one who opens
his eyes to look upon the great brightness of the sun.

7. Wherefore, by blinding itself in its faculties upon this road, the soul
will see the light, even as the Saviour says in the Gospel, in this wise: In
judicium veni in hunc mundum: ut qui non vident, videant, et qui vident,
caeci fiant. [230] That is: I am come into this world for judgment; that
they which see not may see, and that they which see may become blind. This,
as it will be supposed, is to be understood of this spiritual road, where
the soul that is in darkness, and is blinded as regards all its natural and
proper lights, will see supernaturally; and the soul that would depend upon
any light of its own will become the blinder and will halt upon the road to
union.

8. And, that we may proceed with less confusion, I think it will be
necessary to describe, in the following chapter, the nature of this that we
call union of the soul with God; for, when this is understood, that which we
shall say hereafter will become much clearer. And so I think the treatment
of this union comes well at this point, as in its proper place. For,
although the thread of that which we are expounding is interrupted thereby,
this is not done without a reason, since it serves to illustrate in this
place the very thing that is being described. The chapter which follows,
then, will be a parenthetical one, placed, as it were, between the two terms
of an enthymeme, since we shall afterwards have to treat in detail of the
three faculties of the soul, with respect to the three logical virtues, in
relation to this second night.
_________________________________________________________________

[225] Hebrews xi, 6.

[226] Isaias lxiv, 4; 1 Corinthians ii, 9.

[227] [The word translated˜way is modo, which, in the language of
scholastic philosophy, would rather be translated˜mode.]

[228] [2 Corinthians vi, 10.]

[229] [Lit.,˜either spiritually or sensually, in its soul.]

[230] St. John ix, 39.
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CHAPTER V

Wherein is described what is meant by union of the soul with God. A
comparison is given. [231]

From what has been said above it becomes clear to some extent what we mean
by union of the soul with God; what we now say about it, therefore, will be
the better understood. It is not my intention here to treat of the divisions
of this union, nor of its parts, for I should never end if I were to begin
now to explain what is the nature of union of the understanding, and what is
that of union according to the will, and likewise according to the memory;
and likewise what is transitory and what permanent in the union of the said
faculties; and then what is meant by total union, transitory and permanent,
with regard to the said faculties all together. All this we shall treat
gradually in our discourse speaking first of one and then of another. But
here this is not to the point in order to describe what we have to say
concerning them; it will be explained much more fittingly in its place, when
we shall again be treating the same matter, and shall have a striking
illustration to add to the present explanation, so that everything will then
be considered and explained and we shall judge of it better.

2. Here I treat only of this permanent and total union according to the
substance of the soul and its faculties with respect to the obscure habit of
union: for with respect to the act, we shall explain later, with the Divine
favour, how there can be no permanent union in the faculties, in this life,
but a transitory union only.

3. In order, then, to understand what is meant by this union whereof we are
treating, it must be known that God dwells and is present substantially in
every soul, even in that of the greatest sinner in the world. And this kind
of union is ever wrought between God and all the creatures, for in it He is
preserving their being: if union of this kind were to fail them, they would
at once become annihilated and would cease to be. And so, when we speak of
union of the soul with God, we speak not of this substantial union which is
continually being wrought, but of the union and transformation of the soul
with God, which is not being wrought continually, but only when there is
produced that likeness that comes from love; we shall therefore term this
the union of likeness, even as that other union is called substantial or
essential. The former is natural, the latter supernatural. And the latter
comes to pass when the two wills namely that of the soul and that of God
are conformed together in one, and there is naught in the one that
repugnant to the other. And thus, when the soul rids itself totally of that
which is repugnant to the Divine will and conforms not with it, it is
transformed in God through love.

4. This is to be understood of that which is repugnant, not only in action,
but likewise in habit, so that not only must the voluntary acts of
imperfection cease, but the habits of any such imperfections must be
annihilated. And since no creature whatsoever, and none of its actions or
abilities, can conform or can attain to that which is God, therefore must
the soul be stripped of all things created, and of its own actions and
abilities namely, of its understanding, perception and feeling so that,
when all that is unlike God and unconformed to Him is cast out, the soul may
receive the likeness of God; and nothing will then remain in it that is not
the will of God and it will thus be transformed in God. Wherefore, although
it is true that, as we have said, God is ever in the soul, giving it, and
through His presence conserving within it, its natural being, yet He does
not always communicate supernatural being to it. For this is communicated
only by love and grace, which not all souls possess; and all those that
possess it have it not in the same degree; for some have attained more
degrees of love and others fewer. Wherefore God communicates Himself most to
that soul that has progressed farthest in love; namely, that has its will in
closest conformity with the will of God. And the soul that has attained
complete conformity and likeness of will is totally united and transformed
in God supernaturally. Wherefore, as has already been explained, the more
completely a soul is wrapped up in [232] the creatures and in its own
abilities, by habit and affection, the less preparation it has for such
union; for it gives not God a complete opportunity to transform it
supernaturally. The soul, then, needs only to strip itself of these natural
dissimilarities and contrarieties, so that God, Who is communicating Himself
naturally to it, according to the course of nature, may communicate Himself
to it supernaturally, by means of grace.

5. And it is this that Saint John desired to explain when he said: Qui non
ex sanguinibus, neque ex voluntate carnis, neque ex voluntate viri, sed ex
Deo nati sunt. [233] As though he had said: He gave power to be sons of God
that is, to be transformed in God only to those who are born, not of
blood that is, not of natural constitution and temperament neither of
the will of the flesh that is, of the free will of natural capacity and
ability still less of the will of man wherein is included every way and
manner of judging and comprehending with the understanding. He gave power to
none of these to become sons of God, but only to those that are born of God
that is, to those who, being born again through grace, and dying first of
all to everything that is of the old man, are raised above themselves to the
supernatural, and receive from God this rebirth and adoption, which
transcends all that can be imagined. For, as Saint John himself says
elsewhere: Nisi quis renatus fuerit ex aqua, et Spiritu Sancto, non potest
videre regnum Dei. [234] This signifies: He that is not born again in the
Holy Spirit will not be able to see this kingdom of God, which is the state
of perfection; and to be born again in the Holy Spirit in this life is to
have a soul most like to God in purity, having in itself no admixture of
imperfection, so that pure transformation can be wrought in it through
participation of union, albeit not essentially.

6. In order that both these things may be the better understood, let us make
a comparison. A ray of sunlight is striking a window. If the window is in
any way stained or misty, the suns ray will be unable to illumine it and
transform it into its own light, totally, as it would if it were clean of
all these things, and pure; but it will illumine it to a lesser degree, in
proportion as it is less free from those mists and stains; and will do so to
a greater degree, in proportion as it is cleaner from them, and this will
not be because of the suns ray, but because of itself; so much so that, if
it be wholly pure and clean, the ray of sunlight will transform it and
illumine it in such wise that it will itself seem to be a ray and will give
the same light as the ray. Although in reality the window has a nature
distinct from that of the ray itself, however much it may resemble it, yet
we may say that that window is a ray of the sun or is light by
participation. And the soul is like this window, whereupon is ever beating
(or, to express it better, wherein is ever dwelling) this Divine light of
the Being of God according to nature, which we have described.

7. In thus allowing God to work in it, the soul (having rid itself of every
mist and stain of the creatures, which consists in having its will perfectly
united with that of God, for to love is to labour to detach and strip itself
for Gods sake of all that is not God) is at once illumined and transformed
in God, and God communicates to it His supernatural Being, in such wise that
it appears to be God Himself, and has all that God Himself has. And this
union comes to pass when God grants the soul this supernatural favour, that
all the things of God and the soul are one in participant transformation;
and the soul seems to be God rather than a soul, and is indeed God by
participation; although it is true that its natural being, though thus
transformed, is as distinct from the Being of God as it was before, even as
the window has likewise a nature distinct from that of the ray, though the
ray gives it brightness.

8. This makes it clearer that the preparation of the soul for this union, as
we said, is not that it should understand or perceive or feel or imagine
anything, concerning either God or aught else, but that it should have
purity and love that is, perfect resignation and detachment from
everything for Gods sake alone; and, as there can be no perfect
transformation if there be not perfect purity, and as the enlightenment,
illumination and union of the soul with God will be according to the
proportion of its purity, in greater or in less degree; yet the soul will
not be perfect, as I say, if it be not wholly and perfectly [235] bright and
clean.

9. This will likewise be understood by the following comparison. A picture
is truly perfect, with many and most sublime beauties and delicate and
subtle illuminations, and some of its beauties are so fine and subtle that
they cannot be completely realized, because of their delicacy and
excellence. Fewer beauties and less delicacy will be seen in this picture by
one whose vision is less clear and refined; and he whose vision is somewhat
more refined will be able to see in it more beauties and perfections; and,
if another person has a vision still more refined, he will see still more
perfection; and, finally, he who has the clearest and purest faculties will
see the most beauties and perfections of all; for there is so much to see in
the picture that, however far one may attain, there will ever remain higher
degrees of attainment.

10. After the same manner we may describe the condition of the soul with
relation to God in this enlightenment or transformation. For, although it is
true that a soul, according to its greater or lesser capacity, may have
attained to union, yet not all do so in an equal degree, for this depends
upon what the Lord is pleased to grant to each one. It is in this way that
souls see God in Heaven; some more, some less; but all see Him, and all are
content, for their capacity is satisfied.

11. Wherefore, although in this life here below we find certain souls
enjoying equal peace and tranquillity in the state of perfection, and each
one of them satisfied, yet some of them may be many degrees higher than
others. All, however, will be equally satisfied, because the capacity of
each one is satisfied. But the soul that attains not to such a measure of
purity as is in conformity with its capacity never attains true peace and
satisfaction, since it has not attained to the possession of that detachment
and emptiness in its faculties which is required for simple union.
_________________________________________________________________

[231] As the Saint has explained above, this is a parenthetical chapter
necessary to an understanding of the following chapters on the active
purification of the three faculties of the soul; for, in order to make an
intelligent use of the means to an end, it is important to know what that
end is. St. John of the Cross begins by setting aside the numerous divisions
under which the mystics speak of union with God and deals only with that
which most usually concerns the soul, namely union which is active, and
acquired by our own efforts, together with the habitual aid of grace. This
is the kind of union which is most suitably described in this treatise,
which deals with the intense activity of the soul as regards the purgation
of the senses and faculties as a necessary means for the loving
transformation of the soul in God the end and goal of all the Saints
writings. In order to forestall any grossly erroneous pantheistic
interpretations, we point out, with the author of the MÃ©dula MÃstica (Trat.
V, Chap. i, No. 2), that by union the Saint understands˜a linking and
conjoining of two things which, though united, are still different, each, as
St. Thomas teaches (Pt. III, q. 2, a. 1), keeping its own nature, for
otherwise there would not be union but identity. Union of the soul with God,
therefore, will be a linking and conjoining of the soul with God and of God
with the soul, for the one cannot be united with the other if the other be
not united with the one, so that the soul is still the soul and God is still
God. But just as, when two things are united, the one which has the most
power, virtue and activity communicates its properties to the other, just
so, since God has greater strength, virtue and activity than the soul, He
communicates His properties to it and makes it, as it were, deific, and
leaves it, as it were, divinized, to a greater or a lesser degree,
corresponding to the greater or the lesser degree of union between the
two. This conception, which is a basic one in Christian mysticism, is that
of St. John of the Cross. Had all his commentators understood that fact,
some of them would have been saved from making ridiculous comparisons of him
with Gnostics, Illuminists or even the Eastern seekers after Nirvana.
Actually, this Saint and Doctor of the Church applies the tenets of Catholic
theology to the union of the soul with God, presenting them in a condensed
and vigorous form and keeping also to strict psychological truth, as in
general do the other Spanish mystics. This is one of his greatest merits. In
this chapter he is speaking, not of essential union, which has nothing to do
with his subject, but (presupposing the union worked through sanctifying
grace received in the substance of the soul, which is the source of the
infused virtues, such as faith, hope and charity, and the gifts of the Holy
Spirit) of active actual union, after which we can and should strive, so
that we may will what God wills and abhor what He abhors. Though not the
only kind of union, it is this which chiefly concerns the soul; and, when
once this is attained, God readily grants all other mystical gifts. Cf. St.
Teresas Interior Castle, V, iii [C.W.S.T.J., II, 259“60].

[232] [Lit.,˜is clothed with.]

[233] St. John i, 13.

[234] St. John iii, 5.

[235] [Lit.,˜wholly perfect and . . .]
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CHAPTER VI

Wherein is described how it is the three theological virtues that perfect
the three faculties of the soul, and how the said virtues produce emptiness
and darkness within them.

Having now to endeavour to show how [236] the three faculties of the soul
understanding, memory and will are brought into this spiritual night,
which is the means to Divine union, it is necessary first of all to explain
in this chapter how the three theological virtues faith, hope and charity
which have respect to the three faculties aforesaid as their proper
supernatural objects, and by means whereof the soul is united with God
according to its faculties, produce the same emptiness and darkness, each
one in its own faculty. Faith, in the understanding; hope, in the memory;
and charity, in the will. And afterwards we shall go on to describe how the
understanding is perfected in the darkness of faith; and the memory in the
emptiness of hope; and likewise how the will must be buried by withdrawing
and detaching every affection so that the soul may journey to God. This
done, it will be clearly seen how necessary it is for the soul, if it is to
walk securely on this spiritual road, to travel through this dark night,
leaning upon these three virtues, which empty it of all things and make it
dark with respect to them. For, as we have said, the soul is not united with
God in this life through understanding, nor through enjoyment, nor through
the imagination, nor through any sense whatsoever; but only through faith,
according to the understanding; and through hope, according to the memory;
and through love, according to the will.

2. These three virtues, as we have said, all cause emptiness in the
faculties: faith, in the understanding, causes an emptiness and darkness
with respect to understanding; hope, in the memory, causes emptiness of all
possessions; and charity causes emptiness in the will and detachment from
all affection and from rejoicing in all that is not God. For, as we see,
faith tells us what cannot be understood with the understanding. Wherefore
Saint Paul spoke of it ad Hebraeos after this manner: Fides est sperandarum
substantia rerum, argumentum non apparentium. [237] This we interpret as
meaning that faith is the substance of things hoped for; and, although the
understanding may be firmly and certainly consenting to them, they are not
things that are revealed to the understanding, since, if they were revealed
to it, there would be no faith. So faith, although it brings certainty to
the understanding, brings it not clearness, but obscurity.

3. Then, as to hope, there is no doubt but that it renders the memory empty
and dark with respect both to things below and to things above. For hope
always relates to that which is not possessed; for, if it were possessed,
there would be no more hope. Wherefore Saint Paul says ad Romanos: Spes,
quae videtur, non est spes: nam quod videt quis, quid sperat? [238] That is
to say: Hope that is seen is not hope; for what a man seeth that is, what
a man possesseth how doth he hope for it? This virtue, then, also produces
emptiness, for it has to do with that which is not possessed and not with
that which is possessed.

4. Similarity, charity causes emptiness in the will with respect to all
things, since it obliges us to love God above them all; which cannot be
unless we withdraw our affection from them in order to set it wholly upon
God. Wherefore Christ says, through Saint Luke: Qui non renuntiat omnibus
quae possidet, non potest meus esse discipulus. [239] Which signifies: He
that renounces not all that he possesses with the will cannot be My
disciple. And thus all these three virtues set the soul in obscurity and
emptiness with respect to all things.

5. And here we must consider that parable which our Redeemer related in the
eleventh chapter of Saint Luke, wherein He said that a friend had to go out
at midnight in order to ask his friend for three loaves; [240] the which
loaves signify these three virtues. And he said that he asked for them at
midnight in order to signify that the soul that is in darkness as to all
things must acquire these three virtues according to its faculties and must
perfect itself in them in this night. In the sixth chapter of Isaias we read
that the two seraphim whom this Prophet saw on either side of God had each
six wings; with two they covered their feet, which signified the blinding
and quenching of the affections of the will with respect to all things for
the sake of God; and with two they covered their face, which signified the
darkness of the understanding in the presence of God; and with the other two
they flew. [241] This is to signify the flight of hope to the things that
are not possessed, when it is raised above all that it can possess, whether
below or above, apart from God.

6. To these three virtues, then, we have to lead the three faculties of the
soul, informing each faculty by each one of them, and stripping it and
setting it in darkness concerning all things save only these three virtues.
And this is the spiritual night which just now we called active; for the
soul does that which in it lies in order to enter therein. And even as, in
the night of sense, we described a method of voiding the faculties of sense
of their sensible objects, with regard to the desire, so that the soul might
go forth from the beginning of its course to the mean, [242] which is faith;
even so, in this spiritual night, with the favour of God, we shall describe
a method whereby the spiritual faculties are voided and purified of all that
is not God, and are set in darkness concerning these three virtues, which,
as we have said, are the means and preparation for the union of the soul
with God.

7. In this method is found all security against the crafts of the devil and
against the efficacy of self-love and its ramifications, which is wont most
subtly to deceive and hinder spiritual persons on their road, when they know
not how to become detached and to govern themselves according to these three
virtues; and thus they are never able to reach the substance and purity of
spiritual good, nor do they journey by so straight and short a road as they
might.

8. And it must be noted that I am now speaking particularly to those who
have begun to enter the state of contemplation, because as far as this
concerns beginners it must be described somewhat more amply, as we shall
note in the second book, God willing, when we treat of the properties of
these beginners.
_________________________________________________________________

[236] [Lit.,˜to lead . . . into, as at the beginning of 6, below.]

[237] Hebrews xi, 1.

[238] Romans viii, 24.

[239] St. Luke xiv, 33.

[240] Luke xi, 5.

[241] Isaias vi, 2.

[242] [Or˜middle. Cf. Bk. I, chap. ii, above.]
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CHAPTER VII

Wherein is described how strait is the way that leads to eternal life and
how completely detached and disencumbered must be those that will walk in
it. We begin to speak of the detachment of the understanding.

We have now to describe the detachment and purity of the three faculties of
the soul and for this are necessary a far greater knowledge and spirituality
than mine, in order to make clear to spiritual persons how strait is this
road which, said Our Saviour, leads to life; so that, persuaded of this,
they may not marvel at the emptiness and detachment to which, in this night,
we have to abandon the faculties of the soul.

2. To this end must be carefully noted the words which Our Saviour used, in
the seventh chapter of Saint Matthew, concerning this road, as follows: Quam
angusta porta, et arcta via est, quae ducit ad vitam, et pauci sunt, qui
inveniunt eam. [243] This signifies: How strait is the gate and how narrow
the way that leadeth unto life, and few there are that find it! In this
passage we must carefully note the emphasis and insistence which are
contained in that word Quam. For it is as if He had said: In truth the way
is very strait, more so than you think. And likewise it is to be noted that
He says first that the gate is strait, to make it clear that, in order for
the soul to enter by this gate, which is Christ, and which comes at the
beginning of the road, the will must first be straitened and detached in all
things sensual and temporal, and God must be loved above them all; which
belongs to the night of sense, as we have said.

3. He then says that the way is narrow that is to say, the way of
perfection in order to make it clear that, to travel upon the way of
perfection, the soul has not only to enter by the strait gate, emptying
itself of things of sense, but has also to straiten [244] itself, freeing
and disencumbering itself completely in that which pertains to the spirit.
And thus we can apply what He says of the strait gate to the sensual part of
man; and what He says of the narrow road we can understand of the spiritual
or the rational part; and, when He says˜Few there are that find it, the
reason of this must be noted, which is that there are few who can enter, and
desire to enter, into this complete detachment and emptiness of spirit. For
this path ascending the high mountain of perfection leads upward, and is
narrow, and therefore requires travellers that have no burden weighing upon
them with respect to lower things, neither aught that embarrasses them with
respect to higher things: and, as this is a matter wherein we must seek
after and attain to God alone, God alone must be the object of our search
and attainment.

4. Hence it is clearly seen that the soul must not only be disencumbered
from that which belongs to the creatures, but likewise, as it travels, must
be annihilated and detached from all that belongs to its spirit. Wherefore
Our Lord, instructing us and leading us into this road, gave, in the eighth
chapter of St. Mark, that wonderful teaching of which I think it may almost
be said that, the more necessary it is for spiritual persons, the less it is
practised by them. As this teaching is so important and so much to our
purpose, I shall reproduce it here in full, and expound it according to its
genuine, spiritual sense. He says, then, thus: Si quis vult me sequi,
deneget semetipsum: et tollat crucem suam, et sequatur me. Qui enim voluerit
animam suam salvam facere, perdet eam: qui autem perdiderit animam suam
propter me. . . salvam lacier eam. [245] This signifies: If any man will
follow My road, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow Me.
For he that will save his soul shall lose it; but he that loses it for My
sake, shall gain it.

5. Oh, that one could show us how to understand, practise and experience
what this counsel is which our Saviour here gives us concerning self-denial,
[246] so that spiritual persons might see in how different a way they should
conduct themselves upon this road from that which many of them think proper!
For they believe that any kind of retirement and reformation of life
suffices; and others are content with practising the virtues and continuing
in prayer and pursuing mortification; but they attain not to detachment and
poverty or selflessness [247] or spiritual purity (which are all one), which
the Lord here commends to us; for they prefer feeding and clothing their
natural selves with spiritual feelings and consolations, to stripping
themselves of all things, and denying themselves all things, for Gods sake.
For they think that it suffices to deny themselves worldly things without
annihilating and purifying themselves of spiritual attachment. Wherefore it
comes to pass that, when there presents itself to them any of this solid and
perfect spirituality, consisting in the annihilation of all sweetness in
God, in aridity, distaste and trial, which is the true spiritual cross, and
the detachment of the spiritual poverty of Christ, they flee from it as from
death, and seek only sweetness and delectable communion with God. This is
not self-denial and detachment of spirit, but spiritual gluttony. Herein,
spiritually, they become enemies of the Cross of Christ; for true
spirituality seeks for Gods sake that which is distasteful rather than that
which is delectable; and inclines itself rather to suffering than to
consolation; and desires to go without all blessings for Gods sake rather
than to possess them; and to endure aridities and afflictions rather than to
enjoy sweet communications, knowing that this is to follow Christ and to
deny oneself, and that the other is perchance to seek oneself in God, which
is clean contrary to love. For to seek oneself in God is to seek the favours
and refreshments of God; but to seek God in oneself is not only to desire to
be without both of these for Gods sake, but to be disposed to choose, for
Christs sake, all that is most distasteful, whether in relation to God or
to the world; and this is love of God.

6. Oh, that one could tell us how far Our Lord desires this self-denial to
be carried! It must certainly be like to death and annihilation, temporal,
natural and spiritual, in all things that the will esteems, wherein consists
all self-denial. And it is this that Our Lord meant when He said:˜He that
will save his life, the same shall lose it. That is to say: He that will
possess anything or seek anything for himself, the same shall lose it; and
he that loses his soul for My sake, the same shall gain it. That is to say:
He who for Christs sake renounces all that his will can desire and enjoy,
and chooses that which is most like to the Cross (which the Lord Himself,
through Saint John, describes as hating his soul [248] ), the same shall
gain it. And this His Majesty taught to those two disciples who went and
begged Him for a place on His right hand and on His left; when, giving no
countenance to their request for such glory, He offered them the chalice
which He had to drink, as a thing more precious and more secure upon this
earth than is fruition. [249]

7. This chalice is death to the natural self, a death attained through the
detachment and annihilation of that self, in order that the soul may travel
by this narrow path, with respect to all its connections with sense, as we
have said, and according to the spirit, as we shall now say; that is, in its
understanding and in its enjoyment and in its feeling. And, as a result, not
only has the soul made its renunciation as regards both sense and spirit,
but it is not hindered, even by that which is spiritual, in taking the
narrow way, on which there is room only for self-denial (as the Saviour
explains), and the Cross, which is the staff wherewith one may reach ones
goal, and whereby the road is greatly lightened and made easy. Wherefore Our
Lord said through Saint Matthew:˜My yoke is easy and My burden is light;
which burden is the cross. For if a man resolve to submit himself to
carrying this cross that is to say, if he resolve to desire in truth to
meet trials and to bear them in all things for Gods sake, he will find in
them all great relief and sweetness wherewith he may travel upon this road,
detached from all things and desiring nothing. Yet, if he desire to possess
anything whether it come from God or from any other source with any
feeling of attachment, he has not stripped and denied himself in all things;
and thus he will be unable to walk along this narrow path or to climb upward
by it.

8. I would, then, that I could convince spiritual persons that this road to
God consists not in a multiplicity of meditations nor in ways or methods of
such, nor in consolations, although these things may in their own way be
necessary to beginners; but that it consists only in the one thing that is
needful, which is the ability to deny oneself truly, according to that which
is without and to that which is within, giving oneself up to suffering for
Christs sake, and to total annihilation. For the soul that practises this
suffering and annihilation will achieve all that those other exercises can
achieve, and that can be found in them, and even more. And if a soul be
found wanting in this exercise, which is the sum and root of the virtues,
all its other methods are so much beating about the bush, and profiting not
at all, although its meditations and communications may be as lofty as those
of the angels. For progress comes not save through the imitation of Christ,
Who is the Way, the Truth and the Life, and no man comes to the Father but
by Him, even as He Himself says through Saint John. [250] And elsewhere He
says:˜I am the door; by Me if any man enter he shall be saved. [251]
Wherefore, as it seems to me, any spirituality that would fain walk in
sweetness and with ease, and flees from the imitation of Christ, is
worthless.

9. And, as I have said that Christ is the Way, and that this Way is death to
our natural selves, in things both of sense and of spirit, I will now
explain how we are to die, following the example of Christ, for He is our
example and light.

10. In the first place, it is certain that He died as to sense, spiritually,
in His life, besides dying naturally, at His death. For, as He said, He had
not in His life where to lay His head, and at His death this was even truer.

11. In the second place, it is certain that, at the moment of His death, He
was likewise annihilated in His soul, and was deprived of any relief and
consolation, since His Father left Him in the most intense aridity,
according to the lower part of His nature. Wherefore He had perforce to cry
out, saying:˜My God! My God!˜Why hast Thou forsaken Me? [252] This was
the greatest desolation, with respect to sense, that He had suffered in His
life. And thus He wrought herein the greatest work that He had ever wrought,
whether in miracles or in mighty works, during the whole of His life, either
upon earth or in Heaven, which was the reconciliation and union of mankind,
through grace, with God. And this, as I say, was at the moment and the time
when this Lord was most completely annihilated in everything. Annihilated,
that is to say, with respect to human reputation; since, when men saw Him
die, they mocked Him rather than esteemed Him; and also with respect to
nature, since His nature was annihilated when He died; and further with
respect to the spiritual consolation and protection of the Father, since at
that time He forsook Him, that He might pay the whole of mans debt and
unite him with God, being thus annihilated and reduced as it were to
nothing. Wherefore David says concerning Him: Ad nihilum redactus sum, et
nescivi. [253] This he said that the truly spiritual man may understand the
mystery of the gate and of the way of Christ, and so become united with God,
and may know that, the more completely he is annihilated for Gods sake,
according to these two parts, the sensual and the spiritual, the more
completely is he united to God and the greater is the work which he
accomplishes. And when at last he is reduced to nothing, which will be the
greatest extreme of humility, spiritual union will be wrought between the
soul and God, which in this life is the greatest and the highest state
attainable. This consists not, then, in refreshment and in consolations and
spiritual feelings, but in a living death of the Cross, both as to sense and
as to spirit that is, both inwardly and outwardly.

12. I will not pursue this subject farther, although I have no desire to
finish speaking of it, for I see that Christ is known very little by those
who consider themselves His friends: we see them seeking in Him their own
pleasures and consolations because of their great love for themselves, but
not loving His bitter trials and His death because of their great love for
Him. I am speaking now of those who consider themselves His friends; for
such as live far away, withdrawn from Him, men of great learning and
influence, and all others who live yonder, with the world, and are eager
about their ambitions and their prelacies, may be said not to know Christ;
and their end, however good, will be very bitter. Of such I make no mention
in these lines; but mention will be made of them on the Day of Judgment, for
to them it was fitting to speak first this word of God, [254] as to those
whom God set up as a target for it, [255] by reason of their learning and
their high position.

13. But let us now address the understanding of the spiritual man, and
particularly that of the man to whom God has granted the favour of leading
him into the state of contemplation (for, as I have said, I am now speaking
to these in particular), and let us say how such a man must direct himself
toward God in faith, and purify himself from contrary things, constraining
himself that he may enter upon this narrow path of obscure contemplation.
_________________________________________________________________

[243] St. Matthew vii, 14.

[244] [The Spanish verb, used also at the end of the preceding paragraph, is
derived from the adjective.]

[245] St. Mark viii, 34-5.

[246] [Lit.,˜the denial of ourselves to our very selves.]

[247] [enagenaciÃ³n, a word which to-day means˜alienation,˜rapture,
˜derangement (of mind), but in Covarrubias dictionary (1611) is also
defined as˜giving to another what is ones own.]

[248] St. John xii, 25.

[249] St. Matthew xx, 22.

[250] John xiv, 6.

[251] St. John x, 9.

[252] St. Matthew xxvii, 46.

[253] Psalm lxxii, 22 [A.V., lxxiii, 22].

[254] [The reference seems to be to Acts xiii, 46, the point of it being in
the second part of that verse. The Spanish will also bear the
interpretation:˜for them it behoved first (i.e., before others) to speak
this word of God, as (being) those whom God set up as guides, etc.]

[255] [By this vivid phrase the author seems to mean:˜whom God held to be
suitable recipients of it.]
_________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER VIII

Which describes in a general way how no creature and no knowledge that can
be comprehended by the understanding can serve as a proximate means of
Divine union with God.

Before we treat of the proper and fitting means of union with God, which is
faith, it behoves us to prove how no thing, created or imagined, can serve
the understanding as a proper means of union with God; and how all that the
understanding can attain serves it rather as an impediment than as such a
means, if it should desire to cling to it. And now, in this chapter, we
shall prove this in a general way, and afterwards we shall begin to speak in
detail, treating in turn of all kinds of knowledge that the understanding
may receive from any sense, whether inward or outward, and of the
inconveniences and evils that may result from all these kinds of inward and
outward knowledge, when it clings not, as it progresses, to the proper
means, which is faith.

2. It must be understood, then, that, according to a rule of philosophy, all
means must be proportioned to the end; that is to say, they must have some
connection and resemblance with the end, such as is enough and sufficient
for the desired end to be attained through them. I take an example. A man
desires to reach a city; he has of necessity to travel by the road, which is
the means that brings him to this same city and connects [256] him with it.
Another example. Fire is to be combined and united with wood; it is
necessary that heat, which is the means, shall first prepare the wood, by
conveying to it so many degrees of warmth that it will have great
resemblance and proportion to fire. Now if one would prepare the wood by any
other than the proper means namely, with heat as, for example, with air
or water or earth, it would be impossible for the wood to be united with the
fire, just as it would be to reach the city without going by the road that
leads to it. Wherefore, in order that the understanding may be united with
God in this life, so far as is possible, it must of necessity employ that
means that unites it with Him and that bears the greatest resemblance to
Him.

3. Here it must be pointed out that, among all the creatures, the highest or
the lowest, there is none that comes near to God or bears any resemblance to
His Being. For, although it is true that all creatures have, as theologians
say, a certain relation to God, and bear a Divine impress (some more and
others less, according to the greater or lesser excellence of their nature),
yet there is no essential resemblance or connection between them and God
on the contrary, the distance between their being and His Divine Being is
infinite. Wherefore it is impossible for the understanding to attain to God
by means of the creatures, whether these be celestial or earthly, inasmuch
as there is no proportion or resemblance between them. Wherefore, when David
speaks of the heavenly creatures, he says:˜There is none among the gods
like unto Thee, O Lord; [257] meaning by the gods the angels and holy
souls. And elsewhere:˜O God, Thy way is in the holy place. What God is
there so great as our God? [258] As though he were to say: The way of
approach to Thee, O God, is a holy way that is, the purity of faith. For
what God can there be so great? That is to say: What angel will there be so
exalted in his being, and what saint so exalted in glory, as to be a
proportionate and sufficient road by which a man may come to Thee? And the
same David, speaking likewise of earthly and heavenly things both together,
says:˜The Lord is high and looketh on lowly things, and the high things He
knoweth afar off [259] As though he had said: Lofty in His own Being, He
sees that the being of things here below is very low in comparison with His
lofty Being; and the lofty things, which are the celestial creatures, He
sees and knows to be very far from His Being. All the creatures, then,
cannot serve as a proportionate means to the understanding whereby it may
reach God.

4. Just so all that the imagination can imagine and the understanding can
receive and understand in this life is not, nor can it be, a proximate means
of union with God. For, if we speak of natural things, since understanding
can understand naught save that which is contained within, and comes under
the category of, forms and imaginings of things that are received through
the bodily senses, the which things, we have said, cannot serve as means, it
can make no use of natural intelligence. And, if we speak of the
supernatural (in so far as is possible in this life of our ordinary
faculties), the understanding in its bodily prison has no preparation or
capacity for receiving the clear knowledge of God; for such knowledge
belongs not to this state, and we must either die or remain without
receiving it. Wherefore Moses, when he entreated God for this clear
knowledge, was told by God that he would be unable to see Him, in these
words:˜No man shall see Me and remain alive. [260] Wherefore Saint John
says:˜No man hath seen God at any time, [261] neither aught that is like to
Him. And Saint Paul says, with Isaias:˜Eye hath not seen Him, nor hath ear
heard Him, neither hath it entered into the heart of man. [262] And it is
for this reason that, as is said in the Acts of the Apostles, [263] Moses,
in the bush, durst not consider for as long as God was present; for he knew
that his understanding could make no consideration that was fitting
concerning God, corresponding to the sense which he had of Gods presence.
And of Elias, our father, it is said that he covered his face on the Mount
in the presence of God [264] an action signifying the blinding of his
understanding, which he wrought there, daring not to lay so base a hand upon
that which was so high, and seeing clearly that whatsoever he might consider
or understand with any precision would be very far from God and completely
unlike Him.

5. Wherefore no supernatural apprehension or knowledge in this mortal state
can serve as a proximate means to the high union of love with God. For all
that can be understood by the understanding, that can be tasted by the will,
and that can be invented by the imagination is most unlike to God and bears
no proportion to Him, as we have said. All this Isaias admirably explained
in that most noteworthy passage, where he says:˜To what thing have ye been
able to liken God? Or what image will ye make that is like to Him? Will the
workman in iron perchance be able to make a graven image? Or will he that
works gold be able to imitate Him [265] with gold, or the silversmith with
plates of silver? [266] By the workman in iron is signified the
understanding, the office of which is to form intelligences and strip them
of the iron of species and images. By the workman in gold is understood the
will, which is able to receive the figure and the form of pleasure, caused
by the gold of love. By the silversmith, who is spoken of as being unable to
form [267] Him with plates of silver, is understood the memory, with the
imagination, whereof it may be said with great propriety that its knowledge
and the imaginings that it can invent [268] and make are like plates of
silver. And thus it is as though he had said: Neither the understanding with
its intelligence will be able to understand aught that is like Him, nor can
the will taste pleasure and sweetness that bears any resemblance to that
which is God, neither can the memory set in the imagination ideas and images
that represent Him. It is clear, then, that none of these kinds of knowledge
can lead the understanding direct to God; and that, in order to reach Him, a
soul must rather proceed by not understanding than by desiring to
understand; and by blinding itself and setting itself in darkness, rather
than by opening its eyes, in order the more nearly to approach the ray
Divine.

6. And thus it is that contemplation, whereby the understanding has the
loftiest knowledge of God, is called mystical theology, which signifies
secret wisdom of God; for it is secret even to the understanding that
receives it. For that reason Saint Dionysius calls it a ray of darkness. Of
this the prophet Baruch says:˜There is none that knoweth its way, nor any
that can think of its paths. [269] It is clear, then, that the
understanding must be blind to all paths that are open to it in order that
it may be united with God. Aristotle says that, even as are the eyes of the
bat with regard to the sun, which is total darkness to it, even so is our
understanding to that which is greater light in God, which is total darkness
to us. And he says further that, the loftier and clearer are the things of
God in themselves, the more completely unknown and obscure are they to us.
This likewise the Apostle affirms, saying:˜The lofty things of God are the
least known unto men. [270]

7. But we should never end if we continued at this rate to quote authorities
and arguments to prove and make clear that among all created things, and
things that can be apprehended by the understanding, there is no ladder
whereby the understanding can attain to this high Lord. Rather it is
necessary to know that, if the understanding should seek to make use of all
these things, or of any of them, as a proximate means to such union, they
would be not only a hindrance, but even an occasion of numerous errors and
delusions in the ascent of this mount.
_________________________________________________________________

[256] [Lit.,˜unite.]

[257] Psalm lxxxv, 8 [A.V., lxxxvi, 8].

[258] Psalm lxxvi, 14 [A.V., lxxvii, 13] [lit.,˜in that which is holy].

[259] Psalm cxxxvii, 6 [A.V., cxxxviii, 6].

[260] Exodus xxxiii, 20.

[261] St. John i, 18.

[262] 1 Corinthians ii, 9; Isaias lxiv, 4.

[263] Acts vii, 32.

[264] 3 Kings [A.V., 1 Kings] xix, 13.

[265] [Lit.,˜feign Him.]

[266] Isaias xl, 18-19.

[267] [All authorities read˜form (or˜figure) here. Cf. n. 7, above.]

[268] [This is the word (fingir,˜feign), translated above as˜imitate.
Cf. n. 7, above.]

[269] Baruch iii, 23.

[270] [Possibly a further reference to 1 Corinthians ii, 9-10, quoted
above.]
_________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER IX

How faith is the proximate and proportionate means to the understanding
whereby the soul may attain to the Divine union of love. This is proved by
passages and figures from Divine Scripture.

From what has been said it is to be inferred that, in order for the
understanding to be prepared for this Divine union, it must be pure and void
of all that pertains to sense, and detached and freed from all that can
clearly be apprehended by the understanding, profoundly hushed and put to
silence, and leaning upon faith, which alone is the proximate and
proportionate means whereby the soul is united with God; for such is the
likeness between itself and God that there is no other difference, save that
which exists between seeing God and believing in Him. For, even as God is
infinite, so faith sets Him before us as infinite; and, as He is Three and
One, it sets Him before us as Three and One; and, as God is darkness to our
understanding, even so does faith likewise blind and dazzle our
understanding. And thus, by this means alone, God manifests Himself to the
soul in Divine light, which passes all understanding. And therefore, the
greater is the faith of the soul, the more closely is it united with God. It
is this that Saint Paul meant in the passage which we quoted above, where he
says:˜He that will be united with God must believe. [271] That is, he must
walk by faith as he journeys to Him, the understanding being blind and in
darkness, walking in faith alone; for beneath this darkness the
understanding is united with God, and beneath it God is hidden, even as
David said in these words:˜He set darkness under His feet. And He rose upon
the cherubim, and flew upon the wings of the wind. And He made darkness, and
the dark water, His hiding-place. [272]

2. By his saying that He set darkness beneath His feet, and that He took the
darkness for a hiding-place, and that His tabernacle round about Him was in
the dark water, is denoted the obscurity of the faith wherein He is
concealed. And by his saying that He rose upon the cherubim and flew upon
the wings of the winds, is understood His soaring above all understanding.
For the cherubim denote those who understand or contemplate. And the wings
of the winds signify the subtle and lofty ideas and conceptions of spirits,
above all of which is His Being, and to which none, by his own power, can
attain.

3. This we learn from an illustration in the Scriptures. When Solomon had
completed the building of the Temple, God came down in darkness and filled
the Temple so that the children of Israel could not see; whereupon Solomon
spake and said:˜The Lord hath promised that He will dwell in darkness.
[273] Likewise He appeared in darkness to Moses on the Mount, where God was
concealed. And whensoever God communicated Himself intimately, He appeared
in darkness, as may be seen in Job, where the Scripture says that God spoke
with him from the darkness of the air. [274] All these mentions of darkness
signify the obscurity of the faith wherein the Divinity is concealed, when
It communicates Itself to the soul; which will be ended when, as Saint Paul
says, that which is in part shall be ended, [275] which is this darkness of
faith, and that which is perfect shall come, which is the Divine light. Of
this we have a good illustration in the army of Gedeon, whereof it is said
all the soldiers had lamps in their hands, which they saw not, because they
had them concealed in the darkness of the pitchers; but, when these pitchers
were broken, the light was seen. [276] Just so does faith, which is
foreshadowed by those pitchers, contain within itself Divine light; which,
when it is ended and broken, at the ending and breaking of this mortal life,
will allow the glory and light of the Divinity, which was contained in it,
to appear.

4. It is clear, then, that, if the soul in this life is to attain to union
with God, and commune directly with Him, it must unite itself with the
darkness whereof Solomon spake, wherein God had promised to dwell, and must
draw near to the darkness of the air wherein God was pleased to reveal His
secrets to Job, and must take in its hands, in darkness, the jars of Gedeon,
that it may have in its hands (that is, in the works of its will) the light,
which is the union of love, though it be in the darkness of faith, so that,
when the pitchers of this life are broken, which alone have kept from it the
light of faith, it may see God face to face in glory.

5. It now remains to describe in detail all the types of knowledge and the
apprehensions which the understanding can receive; the hindrance and the
harm which it can receive upon this road of faith; and the way wherein the
soul must conduct itself so that, whether they proceed from the senses or
from the spirit, they may cause it, not harm, but profit.
_________________________________________________________________

[271] Hebrews xi, 6.

[272] Psalm xvii, 10-12 [A.V., xviii, 9-11].

[273] 3 Kings [A.V., 1 Kings] viii, 12.

[274] Job xxxviii, 1; xl, 1.

[275] 1 Corinthians xiii, 10.

[276] Judges viii, 16.
_________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER X

Wherein distinction is made between all apprehensions and types of knowledge
which can be comprehended by the understanding.

In order to treat in detail of the profit and the harm which may come to the
soul, with respect to this means to Divine union which we have described
namely, faith through the ideas and apprehensions of the understanding, it
is necessary here to make a distinction between all the apprehensions,
whether natural or supernatural, that the soul may receive, so that then,
with regard to each of them in order, we may direct the understanding with
greater clearness into the night and obscurity of faith. This will be done
with all possible brevity.

2. It must be known, then, that the understanding can receive knowledge and
intelligence by two channels: the one natural and the other supernatural. By
the natural channel is meant all that the understanding can understand,
whether by means of the bodily senses or by its own power. [277] The
supernatural channel is all that is given to the understanding over and
above its natural ability and capacity.

3. Of these kinds of supernatural knowledge, some are corporeal and some are
spiritual. The corporeal are two in number: some are received by means of
the outward bodily senses; others, by means of the inward bodily senses,
wherein is comprehended all that the imagination can comprehend, form and
conceive.

4. The spiritual supernatural knowledge is likewise of two kinds: that which
is distinct and special in its nature, and that which is confused, general
and dark. Of the distinct and special kind there are four manners of
apprehension which are communicated to the spirit without the aid of any
bodily sense: these are visions, revelations, locutions and spiritual
feelings. The obscure and general type of knowledge is of one kind alone,
which is contemplation that is given in faith. To this we have to lead the
soul by bringing it thereto through all these other means, beginning with
the first and detaching it from them.
_________________________________________________________________

[277] [Lit.,˜by itself.]
_________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XI

Of the hindrance and harm that may be caused by apprehensions of the
understanding which proceed from that which is supernaturally represented to
the outward bodily senses; and how the soul is to conduct itself therein.

The first kinds of knowledge whereof we have spoken in the preceding chapter
are those that belong to the understanding and come through natural
channels. Of these, since we have treated them already in the first book,
where we led the soul into the night of sense, we shall here say not a word,
for in that place we gave suitable instruction to the soul concerning them.
What we have to treat, therefore, in the present chapter, will be solely
those kinds of knowledge and those apprehensions which belong to the
understanding and come supernaturally, by way of the outward bodily senses
namely, by seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting and touching. With respect
to all these there may come, and there are wont to come, to spiritual
persons representations and objects of a supernatural kind. With respect to
sight, they are apt to picture figures and forms of persons belonging to the
life to come the forms of certain saints, and representations of angels,
good and evil, and certain lights and brightnesses of an extraordinary kind.
And with the ears they hear certain extraordinary words, sometimes spoken by
those figures that they see, sometimes without seeing the person who speaks
them. As to the sense of smell, they sometimes perceive the sweetest
perfumes with the senses, without knowing whence they proceed. Likewise, as
to taste, it comes to pass that they are conscious of the sweetest savours,
and, as to touch, they experience great delight sometimes to such a degree
that it is as though all the bones and the marrow rejoice and sing [278] and
are bathed in delight; this is like that which we call spiritual unction,
which in pure souls proceeds from the spirit and flows into the very
members. And this sensible sweetness is a very ordinary thing with spiritual
persons, for it comes to them from their sensible affection and devotion,
[279] to a greater or a lesser degree, to each one after his own manner.

2. And it must be known that, although all these things may happen to the
bodily senses in the way of God, we must never rely upon them or accept
them, but must always fly from them, without trying to ascertain whether
they be good or evil; for, the more completely exterior and corporeal they
are, the less certainly are they of God. For it is more proper and habitual
to God to communicate Himself to the spirit, wherein there is more security
and profit for the soul, than to sense, wherein there is ordinarily much
danger and deception; for bodily sense judges and makes its estimate of
spiritual things by thinking that they are as it feels them to be, whereas
they are as different as is the body from the soul and sensuality [280] from
reason. For the bodily sense is as ignorant of spiritual things as is a
beast of rational things, and even more so.

3. So he that esteems such things errs greatly and exposes himself to great
peril of being deceived; in any case he will have within himself a complete
impediment to the attainment of spirituality. For, as we have said, between
spiritual things and all these bodily things there exists no kind of
proportion whatever. And thus it may always be supposed that such things as
these are more likely to be of the devil than of God; for the devil has more
influence in that which is exterior and corporeal, and can deceive a soul
more easily thereby than by that which is more interior and spiritual.

4. And the more exterior are these corporeal forms and objects in
themselves, the less do they profit the interior and spiritual nature,
because of the great distance and the lack of proportion existing between
the corporeal and the spiritual. For, although there is communicated by
their means a certain degree of spirituality, as is always the case with
things that come from God, much less is communicated than would be the case
if the same things were more interior and spiritual. And thus they very
easily become the means whereby error and presumption and vanity grow in the
soul; since, as they are so palpable and material, they stir the senses
greatly, and it appears to the judgment of the soul that they are of greater
importance because they are more readily felt. Thus the soul goes after
them, abandoning faith and thinking that the light which it receives from
them is the guide and means to its desired goal, which is union with God.
But the more attention it pays to such things, the farther it strays from
the true way and means, which are faith.

5. And, besides all this, when the soul sees that such extraordinary things
happen to it, it is often visited, insidiously and secretly by a certain
complacency, so that it thinks itself to be of some importance in the eyes
of God; which is contrary to humility. The devil, too, knows how to
insinuate into the soul a secret satisfaction with itself, which at times
becomes very evident; wherefore he frequently represents these objects to
the senses, setting before the eyes figures of saints and most beauteous
lights; and before the ears words very much dissembled; and representing
also sweetest perfumes, delicious tastes [281] and things delectable to the
touch; to the end that, by producing desires for such things, he may lead
the soul into much evil. These representations and feelings, therefore, must
always be rejected; for, even though some of them be of God, He is not
offended by their rejection, nor is the effect and fruit which He desires to
produce in the soul by means of them any the less surely received because
the soul rejects them and desires them not.

6. The reason for this is that corporeal vision, or feeling in respect to
any of the other senses, or any other communication of the most interior
kind, if it be of God, produces its effect upon the spirit at the very
moment when it appears or is felt, without giving the soul time or
opportunity to deliberate whether it will accept or reject it. For, even as
God gives these things supernaturally, without effort on the part of the
soul, and independently of its capacity, even so likewise, without respect
to its effort or capacity, God produces in it the effect that He desires by
means of such things; for this is a thing that is wrought and brought to
pass in the spirit passively; and thus its acceptance or non-acceptance
consists not in the acceptance or the rejection of it by the will. It is as
though fire were applied to a persons naked body: it would matter little
whether or no he wished to be burned; the fire would of necessity accomplish
its work. Just so is it with visions and representations that are good: even
though the soul desire it not, they work their effect upon it, chiefly and
especially in the soul, rather than in the body. And likewise those that
come from the devil (without the consent of the soul) cause it disturbance
or aridity or vanity or presumption in the spirit. Yet these are not so
effective to work evil as are those of God to work good; for those of the
devil can only set in action the first movements of the will, [282] and move
it no farther, unless the soul be consenting thereto; and such trouble
continues not long unless the souls lack of courage and prudence be the
occasion of its continuance. But the visions that are of God penetrate the
soul and move the will to love, and produce their effect, which the soul
cannot resist even though it would, any more than the window can resist the
suns rays when they strike

7. The soul, then, must never presume to desire to receive them, even
though, as I say, they be of God; for, if it desire to receive them, there
follow six inconveniences.

The first is that faith grows gradually less; for things that are
experienced by the senses derogate from faith; since faith, as we have said,
transcends every sense. And thus the soul withdraws itself from the means of
union with God when it closes not its eyes to all these things of sense.

Secondly, if they be not rejected, they are a hindrance to the spirit, for
the soul rests in them and its spirit soars not to the invisible. This was
one of the reasons why the Lord said to His disciples that it was needful
for Him to go away that the Holy Spirit might come; so, too, He forbade Mary
Magdalene to touch His feet, after His resurrection, that she might be
grounded in faith.

Thirdly, the soul becomes attached to these things and advances not to true
resignation and detachment of spirit.

Fourthly, it begins to lose the effect of them and the inward spirituality
which they cause it, because it sets its eyes upon their sensual aspect,
which is the least important. And thus it receives not so fully the
spirituality which they cause, which is impressed and preserved more
securely when all things of sense are rejected, since these are very
different from pure spirit.

Fifthly, the soul begins to lose the favours of God, because it accepts them
as though they belonged to it and profits not by them as it should. And to
accept them in this way and not to profit by them is to seek after them; but
God gives them not that the soul may seek after them; nor should the soul
take upon itself to believe that they are of God. [283]

Sixthly, a readiness to accept them opens the door to the devil that he may
deceive the soul by other things like to them, which he very well knows how
to dissimulate and disguise, so that they may appear to be good; for, as the
Apostle says, he can transform himself into an angel of light. [284] Of this
we shall treat hereafter, by the Divine favour, in our third book, in the
chapter upon spiritual gluttony.

8. It is always well, then, that the soul should reject these things, and
close its eyes to them, whencesoever they come. For, unless it does so, it
will prepare the way for those things that come from the devil, and will
give him such influence that, not only will his visions come in place of
Gods, but his visions will begin to increase, and those of God to cease, in
such manner that the devil will have all the power and God will have none.
So it has happened to many incautious and ignorant souls, who rely on these
things to such an extent that many of them have found it hard to return to
God in purity of faith; and many have been unable to return, so securely has
the devil rooted himself in them; for which reason it is well to resist and
reject them all. For, by the rejection of evil visions, the errors of the
devil are avoided, and by the rejection of good visions no hindrance is
offered to faith and the spirit harvests the fruit of them. And just as,
when the soul allows them entrance, God begins to withhold them because the
soul is becoming attached to them and is not profiting by them as it should,
while the devil insinuates and increases his own visions, where he finds
occasion and cause for them; just so, when the soul is resigned, or even
averse to them, the devil begins to desist, since he sees that he is working
it no harm; and contrariwise God begins to increase and magnify His favours
in a soul that is so humble and detached, making it ruler over [285] many
things, even as He made the servant who was faithful in small things. [286]

9. In these favours, if the soul be faithful and humble, [287] the Lord will
not cease until He has raised it from one step to another, even to Divine
union and transformation. For Our Lord continues to prove the soul and to
raise it ever higher, so that He first gives it things that are very
unpretentious and exterior and in the order of sense, in conformity with the
smallness of its capacity; to the end that, when it behaves as it should,
and receives these first morsels with moderation for its strength and
sustenance, He may grant it further and better food. If, then, the soul
conquer the devil upon the first step, it will pass to the second; and if
upon the second likewise, it will pass to the third; and so onward, through
all seven mansions, [288] which are the seven steps of love, until the
Spouse shall bring it to the cellar of wine of His perfect charity.

10. Happy the soul that can fight against that beast of the Apocalypse,
[289] which has seven heads, set over against these seven steps of love, and
which makes war therewith against each one, and strives therewith against
the soul in each of these mansions, wherein the soul is being exercised and
is mounting step by step in the love of God. And undoubtedly if it strive
faithfully against each of these heads, and gain the victory, it will
deserve to pass from one step to another, and from one mansion to another,
even unto the last, leaving the beast vanquished after destroying its seven
heads, wherewith it made so furious a war upon it. So furious is this war
that Saint John says in that place [290] that it was given unto the beast to
make war against the saints and to be able to overcome them upon each one of
these steps of love, arraying against each one many weapons and munitions of
war. And it is therefore greatly to be lamented that many who engage in this
spiritual battle against the beast do not even destroy its first head by
denying themselves the sensual things of the world. And, though some destroy
and cut off this head, they destroy not the second head, which is that of
the visions of sense whereof we are speaking. But what is most to be
lamented is that some, having destroyed not only the first and the second
but even the third, which is that of the interior senses, pass out of the
state of meditation, and travel still farther onward, and are overcome by
this spiritual beast at the moment of their entering into purity of spirit,
for he rises up against them once more, and even his first head comes to
life again, and the last state of those souls is worse than the first,
since, when they fall back, the beast brings with him seven other spirits
worse then himself. [291]

11. The spiritual person, then, has to deny himself all the apprehensions,
and the temporal delights, that belong to the outward senses, if he will
destroy the first and the second head of this beast, and enter into the
first chamber of love, and the second, which is of living faith, desiring
neither to lay hold upon, nor to be embarrassed by, that which is given to
the senses, since it is this that derogates most from faith.

12. It is clear, then, that these sensual apprehensions and visions cannot
be a means to union, since they bear no proportion to God; and this was one
of the reasons why Christ desired that the Magdalene and Saint Thomas should
not touch Him. And so the devil rejoices greatly when a soul desires to
receive revelations, and when he sees it inclined to them, for he has then a
great occasion and opportunity to insinuate errors and, in so far as he is
able, to derogate from faith; for, as I have said, he renders the soul that
desires them very gross, and at times even leads it into many temptations
and unseemly ways.

13. I have written at some length of these outward apprehensions in order to
throw and shed rather more light on the others, whereof we have to treat
shortly. There is so much to say on this part of my subject that I could go
on and never end. I believe, however, that I am summarizing it sufficiently
by merely saying that the soul must take care never to receive these
apprehensions, save occasionally on another persons advice, which should
very rarely be given, and even then it must have no desire for them. I think
that on this part of my subject what I have said is sufficient.
_________________________________________________________________

[278] [Lit.,˜and blossom.]

[279] [Lit.,˜from the affection and devotion of the sensible spirit.]

[280] [P. Silverio remarks here that] we must understand [as frequently
elsewhere]sensibility and not sensuality in the grosser sense.

[281] [Lit.,˜and sweetnesses in the mouth.]

[282] E.p.:˜for those of the devil stop at the first movements and cannot
move the will. This, no doubt, was the Saints meaning, for the Church
teaches that the devil cannot influence the will directly, though he may do
so indirectly, principally through the senses and the imagination.

[283] St. John of the Cross means that the soul should not rely upon its own
judgment in such matters but upon some discreet and learned director.

[284] 2 Corinthians xi, 14.

[285] [Lit.,˜making it over.] E.p. has:setting it and placing it
over.

[286] [St. Matthew xxv, 21.]

[287] [Lit.,˜and retired.]

[288] [The phrase is suggestive of St. Teresa, though the Spanish word is
not moradas, but mansiones.]

[289] [Apocalypse xiii, 1.]

[290] [Apocalypse xiii, 7.]

[291] [St. Luke xi, 26.]
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CHAPTER XII

Which treats of natural imaginary apprehensions. Describes their nature and
proves that they cannot be a proportionate means of attainment to union with
God. Shows the harm which results from inability to detach oneself from
them.

Before we treat of the imaginary visions which are wont to occur
supernaturally to the interior sense, which is the imagination and the
fancy, it is fitting here, so that we may proceed in order, to treat of the
natural apprehensions of this same interior bodily sense, in order that we
may proceed from the lesser to the greater, and from the more exterior to
the more interior, until we reach the most interior [292] recollection
wherein the soul is united with God; this same order we have followed up to
this point. For we treated first of all the detachment of the exterior
senses from the natural apprehensions of objects, and, in consequence, from
the natural power of the desires this was contained in the first book,
wherein we spoke of the night of sense. We then began to detach these same
senses from supernatural exterior apprehensions (which, as we have just
shown in the last chapter, affect the exterior senses), in order to lead the
soul into the night of the spirit.

2. In this second book, the first thing that has now to be treated is the
interior bodily sense namely, the imagination and the fancy; this we must
likewise void of all the imaginary apprehensions and forms that may belong
to it by nature, and we must prove how impossible it is that the soul should
attain to union with God until its operation cease in them, since they
cannot be the proper and proximate means of this union.

3. It is to be known, then, that the senses whereof we are here particularly
speaking are two interior bodily senses which are called imagination and
fancy, which subserve each other in due order. For the one sense reasons, as
it were, by imagining, and the other forms the imagination, or that which is
imagined, by making use of the fancy. [293] For our purpose the discussion
of the one is equivalent to that of the other, and, for this reason, when we
name them not both, it must be understood that we are speaking of either, as
we have here explained. All the things, then, that these senses can receive
and fashion are known as imaginations and fancies, which are forms that are
represented to these senses by bodily figures and images. This can happen in
two ways. The one way is supernatural, wherein representation can be made,
and is made, to these senses passively, without any effort of their own;
these we call imaginary visions, produced after a supernatural manner, and
of these we shall speak hereafter. The other way is natural, wherein,
through the ability of the soul, these things can be actively fashioned in
it through its operation, beneath forms, figures and images. And thus to
these two faculties belongs meditation, which is a discursive action wrought
by means of images, forms and figures that are fashioned and imagined by the
said senses, as when we imagine Christ crucified, or bound to the column, or
at another of the stations; or when we imagine God seated upon a throne with
great majesty; or when we consider and imagine glory to be like a most
beauteous light, etc.; or when we imagine all kinds of other things, whether
Divine or human, that can belong to the imagination. All these imaginings
must be cast out from the Soul, which will remain in darkness as far as this
sense is concerned, that it may attain to Divine union; for they can bear no
proportion to proximate means of union with God, any more than can the
bodily imaginings, which serve as objects to the five exterior senses.

4. The reason of this is that the imagination cannot fashion or imagine
anything whatsoever beyond that which it has experienced through its
exterior senses namely, that which it has seen with the eyes, or heard
with the ears, etc. At most it can only compose likenesses of those things
that it has seen or heard or felt, which are of no more consequence than
those which have been received by the senses aforementioned, nor are they
even of as much consequence. For, although a man imagines palaces of pearls
and mountains of gold, because he has seen gold and pearls, all this is in
truth less than the essence of a little gold or of a single pearl, although
in the imagination it be greater in quantity and in beauty. And since, as
has already been said, no created things can bear any proportion to the
Being of God, it follows that nothing that is imagined in their likeness can
serve as proximate means to union with Him, but, as we say, quite the
contrary.

5. Wherefore those that imagine God beneath any of these figures, or as a
great fire or brightness, or in any other such form, and think that anything
like this will be like to Him, are very far from approaching Him. For,
although these considerations and forms and manners of meditation are
necessary to beginners, in order that they may gradually feed and enkindle
their souls with love by means of sense, as we shall say hereafter, and
although they thus serve them as remote means to union with God, through
which a soul has commonly to pass in order to reach the goal and abode of
spiritual repose, yet they must merely pass through them, and not remain
ever in them, for in such a manner they would never reach their goal, which
does not resemble these remote means, neither has aught to do with them. The
stairs of a staircase have naught to do with the top of it and the abode to
which it leads, yet are means to the reaching of both; and if the climber
left not behind the stairs below him until there were no more to climb, but
desired to remain upon any one of them, he would never reach the top of them
nor would he mount to the pleasant [294] and peaceful room which is the
goal. And just so the soul that is to attain in this life to the union of
that supreme repose and blessing, by means of all these stairs of
meditations, forms and ideas, must pass though them and have done with them,
since they have no resemblance and bear no proportion to the goal to which
they lead, which is God. Wherefore Saint Paul says in the Acts of the
Apostles: Non debemus aestimare, auro, vel argento, aut lapidi sculpturae
artis, et cogitationis hominis, Divinum esse similem. [295] Which signifies:
We ought not to think of the Godhead by likening Him to gold or to silver,
neither to stone that is formed by art, nor to aught that a man can fashion
with his imagination.

6. Great, therefore, is the error of many spiritual persons who have
practised approaching God by means of images and forms and meditations, as
befits beginners. God would now lead them on to [296] further spiritual
blessings, which are interior and invisible, by taking from them the
pleasure and sweetness of discursive meditation; but they cannot, or dare
not, or know not how to detach themselves from those palpable methods to
which they have grown accustomed. They continually labour to retain them,
desiring to proceed, as before, by the way of consideration and meditation
upon forms, for they think that it must be so with them always. They labour
greatly to this end and find little sweetness or none; rather the aridity
and weariness and disquiet of their souls are increased and grow, in
proportion as they labour for that earlier sweetness. They cannot find this
in that earlier manner, for the soul no longer enjoys that food of sense, as
we have said; it needs not this but another food, which is more delicate,
more interior and partaking less of the nature of sense; it consists not in
labouring with the imagination, but in setting the soul at rest, and
allowing it to remain in its quiet and repose, which is more spiritual. For,
the farther the soul progresses in spirituality, the more it ceases from the
operation of the faculties in particular acts, since it becomes more and
more occupied in one act that is general and pure; and thus the faculties
that were journeying to a place whither the soul has arrived cease to work,
even as the feet stop and cease to move when their journey is over. For if
all were motion, one would never arrive, and if all were means, where or
when would come the fruition of the end and goal?

7. It is piteous, then, to see many a one who [297] though his soul would
fain tarry in this peace and rest of interior quiet, where it is filled with
the peace and refreshment of God, takes from it its tranquillity, and leads
it away to the most exterior things, and would make it return and retrace
the ground it has already traversed, to no purpose, and abandon the end and
goal wherein it is already reposing for the means which led it to that
repose, which are meditations. This comes not to pass without great
reluctance and repugnance of the soul, which would fain be in that peace
that it understands not, as in its proper place; even as one who has
arrived, with great labour, and is now resting, suffers pain if he is made
to return to his labour. And, as such souls know not the mystery of this new
experience, the idea comes to them that they are being idle and doing
nothing; and thus they allow not themselves to be quiet, but endeavor to
meditate and reason. Hence they are filled with aridity and affliction,
because they seek to find sweetness where it is no longer to be found; we
may even say of them that the more they strive the less they profit, for,
the more they persist after this manner, the worse is the state wherein they
find themselves, because their soul is drawn farther away from spiritual
peace; and this is to leave the greater for the less, and to retrace the
ground already traversed, and to seek to do that which has been done.

8. To such as these the advice must be given to learn to abide attentively
and wait lovingly upon God in that state of quiet, and to pay no heed either
to imagination or to its working; for here, as we say, the faculties are at
rest, and are working, not actively, but passively, by receiving that which
God works in them; and, if they work at times, it is not with violence or
with carefully elaborated meditation, but with sweetness of love, moved less
by the ability of the soul itself than by God, as will be explained
hereafter. But let this now suffice to show how fitting and necessary it is
for those who aim at making further progress to be able to detach themselves
from all these methods and manners and works of the imagination at the time
and season when the profit of the state which they have reached demands and
requires it.

9. And, that it may be understood how this is to be, and at what season, we
shall give in the chapter following certain signs which the spiritual person
will see in himself and whereby he may know at what time and season he may
freely avail himself of the goal mentioned above, and may cease from
journeying by means of meditation and the work of the imagination.
_________________________________________________________________

[292] [Lit.,˜the intimate; but the superlative idea is clearly present.]

[293] [Lit.,˜by fancying.]

[294] [Lit.,˜the level i.e., by contrast with the steep stairs.]

[295] Acts xvii, 29.

[296] [The verb, recoger, of which the derived noun is translated
˜recollection, has more accurately the meaning of˜gather,˜take
inwards.]

[297] [Lit.,˜to see that there are many who.]
_________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XIII

Wherein are set down the signs which the spiritual person will find in
himself whereby he may know at what season it behoves him to leave
meditation and reasoning and pass to the state of contemplation.

In order that there may be no confusion in this instruction it will be meet
in this chapter to explain at what time and season it behoves the spiritual
person to lay aside the task of discursive meditation as carried on through
the imaginations and forms and figures above mentioned, in order that he may
lay them aside neither sooner nor later than when the Spirit bids him; for,
although it is meet for him to lay them aside at the proper time in order
that he may journey to God and not be hindered by them, it is no less
needful for him not to lay aside the said imaginative meditation before the
proper time lest he should turn backward. For, although the apprehensions of
these faculties serve not as proximate means of union to the proficient,
they serve nevertheless as remote means to beginners in order to dispose and
habituate the spirit to spirituality by means of sense, and in order to void
the sense, in the meantime, of all the other low forms and images, temporal,
worldly and natural. We shall therefore speak here of certain signs and
examples which the spiritual person will find in himself, whereby he may
know whether or not it will be meet for him to lay them aside at this
season.

2. The first sign is his realization that he can no longer meditate or
reason with his imagination, neither can take pleasure therein as he was
wont to do aforetime; he rather finds aridity in that which aforetime was
wont to captivate his senses and to bring him sweetness. But, for as long as
he finds sweetness in meditation, and is able to reason, he should not
abandon this, save when his soul is led into the peace and quietness [298]
which is described under the third head.

3. The second sign is a realization that he has no desire to fix his
mediation or his sense upon other particular objects, exterior or interior.
I do not mean that the imagination neither comes nor goes (for even at times
of deep [299] recollection it is apt to move freely), but that the soul has
no pleasure in fixing it of set purpose upon other objects.

4. The third and surest sign is that the soul takes pleasure in being alone,
and waits with loving attentiveness upon God, without making any particular
meditation, in inward peace and quietness and rest, and without acts and
exercises of the faculties memory, understanding and will at least,
without discursive acts, that is, without passing from one thing to another;
the soul is alone, with an attentiveness and a knowledge, general and
loving, as we said, but without any particular understanding, and adverting
not to that which it is contemplating.

5. These three signs, at least, the spiritual person must observe in
himself, all together, before he can venture safely to abandon the state of
meditation and sense, [300] and to enter that of contemplation and spirit.

6. And it suffices not for a man to have the first alone without the second,
for it might be that the reason for his being unable to imagine and meditate
upon the things of God, as he did aforetime, was distraction on his part and
lack of diligence; for the which cause he must observe in himself the second
likewise, which is the absence of inclination or desire to think upon other
things; for, when the inability to fix the imagination and sense upon the
things of God proceeds from distraction or lukewarmness, the soul then has
the desire and inclination to fix it upon other and different things, which
lead it thence altogether. Neither does it suffice that he should observe in
himself the first and second signs, if he observe not likewise, together
with these, the third; for, although he observe his inability to reason and
think upon the things of God, and likewise his distaste for thinking upon
other and different things, this might proceed from melancholy or from some
other kind of humour in the brain or the heart, which habitually produces a
certain absorption and suspension of the senses, causing the soul to think
not at all, nor to desire or be inclined to think, but rather to remain in
that pleasant state of reverie. [301] Against this must be set the third
sign, which is loving attentiveness and knowledge, in peace, etc., as we
have said.

7. It is true, however, that, when this condition first begins, the soul is
hardly aware of this loving knowledge, and that for two reasons. First, this
loving knowledge is apt at the beginning to be very subtle and delicate, and
almost imperceptible to the senses. Secondly, when the soul has been
accustomed to that other exercise of meditation, which is wholly
perceptible, it is unaware, and hardly conscious, of this other new and
imperceptible condition, which is purely spiritual; especially when, not
understanding it, the soul allows not itself to rest in it, but strives
after the former, which is more readily perceptible; so that abundant though
the loving interior peace may be, the soul has no opportunity of
experiencing and enjoying it. But the more accustomed the soul grows to
this, by allowing itself to rest, the more it will grow therein and the more
conscious it will become of that loving general knowledge of God, in which
it has greater enjoyment than in aught else, since this knowledge causes it
peace, rest, pleasure and delight without labour.

8. And, to the end that what has been said may be the clearer, we shall
give, in this chapter following, the causes and reasons why the three signs
aforementioned appear to be necessary for the soul that is journeying to
pure spirit. [302]
_________________________________________________________________

[298] E.p. omits:˜and quietness. The Saints description of this first
sign at which a soul should pass from meditation to contemplation was
denounced as disagreeing with Catholic doctrine, particularly the phrase:
˜that he can no longer meditate or reason with his imagination, neither can
take pleasure therein as he was wont to do aforetime. This language,
however, is common to mystics and theologians, not excluding St. Thomas (2a
2ae, q. 180, a. 6) and SuÃ¡rez (De Oratione, Bk. II, Chap. x), as is proved,
with eloquence and erudition, by P. Basilio Ponce de LeÃ³n and the
Elucidatio, in their refutations of the Saints critics. All agree that, in
the act of contemplation of which St. John of the Cross here speaks, the
understanding must be stripped of forms and species of the imagination and
that the reasonings and reflections of meditation must be set aside. This is
to be understood, both of the contemplation that transcends all human
methods, and also of that which is practised according to these human
methods with the ordinary aid of grace. But there is this important
difference, that those who enjoy the first kind of contemplation set aside
all intellectual reasoning as well as processes of the fancy and the
imagination, whereas, for the second kind, reasoning prior to the act of
contemplation is normally necessary, though it ceases at the act of
contemplation, and there is then substituted for it simple and loving
intuition of eternal truth. It should be clearly understood that this is not
of habitual occurrence in the contemplative soul, but occurs only during the
act of contemplation, which is commonly of short duration. St. Teresa makes
this clear in Chap. xxvii of her Life, and treats this same doctrinal
question in many other parts of her workse.g., Life, Chaps. x, xii; Way of
Perfection, Chap. xxvi; Interior Castle, IV, Chap. iii, etc.

[299] [Lit.,˜much.]

[300] E.p. omits:˜and sense. Since sense plays so great a part in
meditation, St. John of the Cross places it in contradistinction to
contemplation, which, the more nearly it attains perfection, becomes the
more sublime and spiritual and the more completely freed from the bonds of
nature. Cf. Elucidatio, Pt. II, Chap. iii, p. 180.

[301] [embelesamiento, a word denoting a pleasurable condition somewhere
between a reverie and a swoon.]

[302] [Lit.,˜appear to be necessary in order to journey to spirit.]
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CHAPTER XIV

Wherein is proved the fitness of these signs, and the reason is given why
that which has been said in speaking of them is necessary to progress.

With respect to the first sign whereof we are speaking that is to say,
that the spiritual person who would enter upon the spiritual road (which is
that of contemplation) must leave the way of imagination and of meditation
through sense when he takes no more pleasure therein and is unable to reason
there are two reasons why this should be done, which may almost be
comprised in one. The first is, that in one way the soul has received all
the spiritual good which it would be able to derive from the things of God
by the path of meditation and reasoning, the sign whereof is that it can no
longer meditate or reason as before, and finds no new sweetness or pleasure
therein as it found before, because up to that time it had not progressed as
far as the spirituality which was in store for it; for, as a rule,
whensoever the soul receives some spiritual blessing, it receives it with
pleasure, at least in spirit, in that means whereby it receives it and
profits by it; otherwise it is astonishing if it profits by it, or finds in
the cause of it that help and that sweetness which it finds when it receives
it. For this is in agreement with a saying of the philosophers, Quod sapit,
nutrit. This is: That which is palatable nourishes and fattens. Wherefore
holy Job said: Numquid poterit comedi insulsum, quod non est sale conditum?
[303] Can that which is unsavory perchance be eaten when it is not seasoned
with salt? It is this cause that the soul is unable to meditate or reason as
before: the little pleasure which the spirit finds therein and the little
profit which it gains.

2. The second reason is that the soul at this season has now both the
substance and the habit of the spirit of meditation. For it must be known
that the end of reasoning and meditation on the things of God is the gaining
of some knowledge and love of God, and each time that the soul gains this
through meditation, it is an act; and just as many acts, of whatever kind,
end by forming a habit in the soul, just so, many of these acts of loving
knowledge which the soul has been making one after another from time to time
come through repetition to be so continuous in it that they become habitual.
This end God is wont also to effect in many souls without the intervention
of these acts (or at least without many such acts having preceded it), by
setting them at once in contemplation. And thus that which aforetime the
soul was gaining gradually through its labour of meditation upon particular
facts has now through practice, as we have been saying, become converted and
changed into a habit and substance of loving knowledge, of a general kind,
and not distinct or particular as before. Wherefore, when it gives itself to
prayer, the soul is now like one to whom water has been brought, so that he
drinks peacefully, without labour, and is no longer forced to draw the water
through the aqueducts of past meditations and forms and figures [304] So
that, as soon as the soul comes before God, it makes an act of knowledge,
confused, loving, passive and tranquil, wherein it drinks of wisdom and love
and delight.

3. And it is for this cause that the soul feels great weariness and
distaste, when, although it is in this condition of tranquillity, men try to
make it meditate and labour in particular acts of knowledge. For it is like
a child, which, while receiving the milk that has been collected and brought
together for it in the breast, is taken from the breast and then forced to
try to gain and collect food by its own diligent squeezing and handling. Or
it is like one who has removed the rind from a fruit, and is tasting the
substance of the fruit, when he is forced to cease doing this and to try to
begin removing the said rind, which has been removed already. He finds no
rind to remove, and yet he is unable to enjoy the substance of the fruit
which he already had in his hand; herein he is like to one who leaves a
prize [305] which he holds for another which he holds not.

4. And many act thus when they begin to enter this state; they think that
the whole business consists in a continual reasoning and learning to
understand particular things by means of images and forms, which are to the
spirit as rind. When they find not these in that substantial and loving
quiet wherein their soul desires to remain, and wherein it understands
nothing clearly, they think that they are going astray and wasting time, and
they begin once more to seek the rind of their imaginings and reasonings,
but find it not, because it has already been removed. And thus they neither
enjoy the substance nor make progress in meditation, and they become
troubled by the thought that they are turning backward and are losing
themselves. They are indeed losing themselves, though not in the way they
think, for they are becoming lost to their own senses and to their first
manner of perception; and this means gain in that spirituality which is
being given them. The less they understand, however, the farther they
penetrate into the night of the spirit, whereof we are treating in this
book, through the which night they must pass in order to be united with God,
in a union that transcends all knowledge.

5. With respect to the second sign, there is little to say, for it is clear
that at this season the soul cannot possibly take pleasure in other and
different objects of the imagination, which are of the world, since, as we
have said, and for the reasons already mentioned, it has no pleasure in
those which are in closest conformity with it namely, those of God. Only
as has been noted above, the imaginative faculty in this state of
recollection is in the habit of coming and going and varying of its own
accord; but neither according to the pleasure nor at the will of the soul,
which is troubled thereby, because its peace and joy are disturbed.

6. Nor do I think it necessary to say anything here concerning the fitness
and necessity of the third sign whereby the soul may know if it is to leave
the meditation aforementioned, which is a knowledge of God or a general and
loving attentiveness to Him. For something has been said of this in treating
of the first sign, and we shall treat of it again hereafter, when we speak
in its proper place of this confused and general knowledge, which will come
after our description of all the particular apprehensions of the
understanding. But we will speak of one reason alone by which it may clearly
be seen how, when the contemplative has to turn aside from the way of
meditation and reasoning, he needs this general and loving attentiveness or
knowledge of God. The reason is that, if the soul at that time had not this
knowledge of God or this realization of His presence, the result would be
that it would do nothing and have nothing; for, having turned aside from
meditation (by means whereof the soul has been reasoning with its faculties
of sense), and being still without contemplation, which is the general
knowledge whereof we are speaking, wherein the soul makes use of its
spiritual faculties [306] namely, memory, understanding and will these
being united in this knowledge which is then wrought and received in them,
the soul would of necessity be without any exercise in the things of God,
since the soul can neither work, nor can it receive that which has been
worked in it, save only by way of these two kinds of faculty, that of sense
and that of spirit. For, as we have said, by means of the faculties of sense
it can reason and search out and gain knowledge of things and by means of
the spiritual faculties it can have fruition of the knowledge which it has
already received in these faculties aforementioned, though the faculties
themselves take no part herein.

7. And thus the difference between the operation of these two kinds of
faculty in the soul is like the difference between working and enjoying the
fruit of work which has been done; or like that between the labour of
journeying and the rest and quiet which comes from arrival at the goal; or,
again, like that between preparing a meal and partaking and tasting of it,
when it has been both prepared and masticated, without having any of the
labour of cooking it, or it is like the difference between receiving
something and profiting by that which has been received. Now if the soul be
occupied neither with respect to the operation of the faculties of sense,
which is meditation and reasoning, nor with respect to that which has
already been received and effected in the spiritual faculties, which is the
contemplation and knowledge whereof we have spoken, it will have no
occupation, but will be wholly idle, and there would be no way in which it
could be said to be employed. This knowledge, then, is needful for the
abandonment of the way of meditation and reasoning.

8. But here it must be made clear that this general knowledge whereof we are
speaking is at times so subtle and delicate, particularly when it is most
pure and simple and perfect, most spiritual and most interior, that,
although the soul be occupied therein, it can neither realize it nor
perceive it. This is most frequently the case when we can say that it is in
itself most clear, perfect and simple; and this comes to pass when it
penetrates a soul that is unusually pure and far withdrawn from other
particular kinds of knowledge and intelligence, which the understanding or
the senses might fasten upon. Such a soul, since it no longer has those
things wherein the understanding and the senses have the habit and custom of
occupying themselves, is not conscious of them, inasmuch as it has not its
accustomed powers of sense. And it is for this reason that, when this
knowledge is purest and simplest and most perfect, the understanding is
least conscious of it and thinks of it as most obscure. And similarly, in
contrary wise, when it is in itself least pure and simple in the
understanding, it seems to the understanding to be clearest and of the
greatest importance, since it is clothed in, mingled with or involved in
certain intelligible forms which understanding or sense may seize upon.
[307]

9. This will be clearly understood by the following comparison. If we
consider a ray of sunlight entering through a window, we see that, the more
the said ray is charged with atoms and particles of matter, the more
palpable, visible and bright it appears to the eye of sense; [308] yet it is
clear that the ray is in itself least pure, clear, simple and perfect at
that time, since it is full of so many particles and atoms. And we see
likewise that, when it is purest and freest from those particles and atoms,
the least palpable and the darkest does it appear to the material eye; and
the purer it is, the darker and less apprehensible it appears to it. And if
the ray were completely pure and free from all these atoms and particles,
even from the minutest specks of dust, it would appear completely dark and
invisible to the eye, since everything that could be seen would be absent
from it namely, the objects of sight. For the eye would find no objects
whereon to rest, since light is no proper object of vision, but the means
whereby that which is visible is seen; so that, if there be no visible
objects wherein the suns ray or any light can be reflected, nothing will be
seen. Wherefore, if the ray of light entered by one window and went out by
another, without meeting anything that has material form, it would not be
seen at all; yet, notwithstanding, that ray of light would be purer and
clearer in itself than when it was more clearly seen and perceived through
being full of visible objects.

10. The same thing happens in the realm of spiritual light with respect to
the sight of the soul, which is the understanding, and which this general
and supernatural knowledge and light whereof we are speaking strikes so
purely and simply. So completely is it detached and removed from all
intelligible forms, which are objects of the understanding, that it is
neither perceived nor observed. Rather, at times (that is, when it is
purest), it becomes darkness, because it withdraws the understanding from
its accustomed lights, from forms and from fancies, and then the darkness is
more clearly felt and realized. But, when this Divine light strikes the soul
with less force, it neither perceives darkness nor observes light, nor
apprehends aught that it knows, from whatever source; hence at times the
soul remains as it were in a great forgetfulness, so that it knows not where
it has been or what it has done, nor is it aware of the passage of time.
Wherefore it may happen, and does happen, that many hours are spent in this
forgetfulness, and, when the soul returns to itself, it believes that less
than a moment has passed, or no time at all.

11. The cause of this forgetfulness is the purity and simplicity of this
knowledge which occupies the soul and simplifies, purifies and cleanses it
from all apprehensions and forms of the senses and of the memory, through
which it acted when it was conscious of time, [309] and thus leaves it in
forgetfulness and without consciousness of time. [310] This prayer,
therefore, seems to the soul extremely brief, although, as we say, it may
last for a long period; for the soul has been united in pure intelligence,
which belongs not to time; and this is the brief prayer which is said to
pierce the heavens, because it is brief and because it belongs not to time.
[311] And it pierces the heavens, because the soul is united in heavenly
intelligence; and when the soul awakens, this knowledge leaves in it the
effects which it created in it without its being conscious of them, which
effects are the lifting up of the spirit to the heavenly intelligence, and
its withdrawal and abstraction from all things and forms and figures and
memories thereof. It is this that David describes as having happened to him
when he returned to himself out of this same forgetfulness, saying:
Vigilavi, et factus sum sicut passer solitarius in tecto. [312] Which
signifies: I have watched and I have become like the lonely bird [313] on
the house-top. He uses the word˜lonely to indicate that he was withdrawn
and abstracted from all things. And by the house-top he means the elevation
of the spirit on high; so that the soul remains as though ignorant of all
things, for it knows God only, without knowing how. Wherefore the Bride
declares in the Songs that among the effects which that sleep and
forgetfulness of hers produced was this unknowing. She says that she came
down to the garden, saying: Nescivi. [314] That is: I knew not whence.
Although, as we have said, the soul in this state of knowledge believes
itself to be doing nothing, and to be entirely unoccupied, because it is
working neither with the senses nor with the faculties, it should realize
that it is not wasting time. For, although the harmony of the faculties of
the soul may cease, its intelligence is as we have said. For this cause the
Bride, who was wise, answered this question herself in the Songs, saying:
Ego dormio et cor meum vigilat. [315] As though she were to say: Although I
sleep with respect to my natural self, ceasing to labour, my heart waketh,
being supernaturally lifted up in supernatural knowledge. [316]

12. But, it must be realized, we are not to suppose that this knowledge
necessarily causes this forgetfulness when the soul is in the state that we
are here describing: this occurs only when God suspends in the soul the
exercise of all its faculties, both natural and spiritual, which happens
very seldom, for this knowledge does not always fill the soul entirely. It
is sufficient for the purpose, in the case which we are treating, that the
understanding should be withdrawn from all particular knowledge, whether
temporal or spiritual, and that the will should not desire to think with
respect to either, as we have said, for this is a sign that the soul is
occupied. And it must be taken as an indication that this is so when this
knowledge is applied and communicated to the understanding only, which
sometimes happens when the soul is unable to observe it. For, when it is
communicated to the will also, which happens almost invariably, the soul
does not cease to understand in the very least degree, if it will reflect
hereon, that it is employed and occupied in this knowledge, inasmuch as it
is conscious of a sweetness of love therein, without particular knowledge or
understanding of that which it loves. It is for this reason that this
knowledge is described as general and loving; for, just as it is so in the
understanding, being communicated to it obscurely, even so is it in the
will, sweetness and love being communicated to it confusedly, so that it
cannot have a distinct knowledge of the object of its love.

13. Let this suffice now to explain how meet it is that the soul should be
occupied in this knowledge, so that it may turn aside from the way of
spiritual meditation, and be sure that, although it seem to be doing
nothing, it is well occupied, if it discern within itself these signs. It
will also be realized, from the comparison which we have made, that if this
light presents itself to the understanding in a more comprehensible and
palpable manner, as the suns ray presents itself to the eye when it is full
of particles, the soul must not for that reason consider it purer, brighter
and more sublime. It is clear that, as Aristotle and the theologians say,
the higher and more sublime is the Divine light, the darker is it to our
understanding.

14. Of this Divine knowledge there is much to say, concerning both itself
and the effects which it produces upon contemplatives. All this we reserve
for its proper place, [317] for, although we have spoken of it here, there
would be no reason for having done so at such length, save our desire not to
leave this doctrine rather more confused than it is already, for I confess
it is certainly very much so. Not only is it a matter which is seldom
treated in this way, either verbally or in writing, being in itself so
extraordinary and obscure, but my rude style and lack of knowledge make it
more so. Further, since I have misgivings as to my ability to explain it, I
believe I often write at too great length and go beyond the limits which are
necessary for that part of the doctrine which I am treating. Herein I
confess that I sometimes err purposely; for that which is not explicable by
one kind of reasoning will perhaps be better understood by another, or by
others yet; and I believe, too, that in this way I am shedding more light
upon that which is to be said hereafter.

15. Wherefore it seems well to me also, before completing this part of my
treatise, to set down a reply to one question which may arise with respect
to the continuance of this knowledge, and this shall be briefly treated in
the chapter following.
_________________________________________________________________

[303] Job vi, 6.

[304] [Cf. the simile of the Waters in St. Teresa, Life, Chap. xi, and
Interior Castle, IV, ii, iii.]

[305] [Lit.,˜booty,˜prey.]

[306] [Lit.,˜the soul keeps in act its spiritual facilities.]

[307] [The verb is tropezar en, which may mean eitherstumble upon i.e.,
˜come across (and make use of), orstumble over i.e., the forms may be
a stumbling-block, or a snare. I think there is at least a suggestion of the
latter meaning.]

[308] [Lit.,˜to the sight of sense.]

[309] [Or:˜when it was dependent on time, Lit.,˜acted in time.]

[310] [Or:˜and independent of time. Lit.,˜without time.]

[311] E.p. modifies these lines thus:˜. . . it has been in pure
intelligence, which is the brief prayer that is said to pierce the heavens.
Because it is brief and because the soul is not conscious or observant of
time. P. JosÃ© de JesÃºs MarÃa comments thus upon this passage:˜In
contemplation the soul withdraws itself from the seashore, and entirely
loses sight of land, in order to whelm itself in that vast sea and
impenetrable abyss of the Divine Essence; hiding itself in the region of
time, it enters within the most extensive limits of eternity. For the pure
and simple intelligence whereinto the soul is brought in this contemplation,
as was pointed out by the ancient Dionysius (Myst. Theol., Chap. ii), and by
our own Father, is not subject to time. For, as St. Thomas says (Pt. I, q.
118, a. 3, et alibi), the soul is a spiritual substance, which is above time
and superior to the movements of the heavens, to which it is subject only
because of the body. And therefore it seems that, when the soul withdraws
from the body, and from all created things, and by means of pure
intelligence whelms itself in eternal things, it recovers its natural
dominion and rises above time, if not according to substance, at least
according to its most perfect being; for the noblest and most perfect being
of the soul resides rather in its acts than in its faculties. Wherefore St.
Gregory said (Morals, Bk. VIII):œThe Saints enter eternity even in this
life, beholding the eternity of God.

[312] Psalm ci, 8 [A.V., cii, 7].

[313] [The Spanish pÃ¡jaro,˜bird, is derived from passer,sparrow.]

[314] Canticles vi, 11.

[315] Canticles v, 2.

[316] The words which conclude this paragraph in the edition of 1630 (˜The
sign by which we may know if the soul is occupied in this secret
intelligence is if it is seen to have no pleasure in thinking of aught,
whether high or low) are not found either in the Codices or in e.p. When
St. John of the Cross uses the words˜cessation,˜idleness [ocio, Lat.
otium],˜quiet,˜annihilation,sleep (of the faculties), etc., he does
not mean, as the Illuminists did, that the understanding and will in the act
of contemplation are so passive as to have lost all their force and
vitality, and that the contemplative is therefore impeccable, although he
commit the grossest sins. The souls vital powers, according to St. John of
the Cross, are involved even in the highest contemplation; the understanding
is attentive to God and the will is loving Him. They are not working, it is
true, in the way which is usual and natural with them that is, by reason
and imagination but supernaturally, through the unction of the Holy
Spirit, which they receive passively, without any effort of their own. It is
in this sense that such words as those quoted above (˜cessation,
˜idleness, etc.) are both expressively and appropriately used by the Saint,
for what is done without labour and effort may better be described by images
of passivity than by those of activity. Further, the soul is unaware that
its faculties are working in this sublime contemplation, though they
undoubtedly do work. St. John of the Cross, philosopher as well as mystic,
would not deny the vital and intrinsic activity of the understanding and the
will in contemplation. His reasoning is supported by P. JosÃ© de JesÃºs MarÃa
(Apologia MÃstica de la ContemplaciÃ³n Divina, Chap. ix) [quoted at length by
P. Silverio, Obras, etc., Vol. II, p. 130, note].

[317] In spite of this promise, the Saint does not return to this subject at
such length as his language here would suggest.
_________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XV

Wherein is explained how it is sometimes well for progressives who are
beginning to enter upon this general knowledge of contemplation to make use
of natural reasoning and the work of the natural faculties.

With regard to that which has been said, there might be raised one question
if progressives (that is, those whom God is beginning to bring into this
supernatural knowledge of contemplation whereof we have spoken) must never
again, because of this that they are beginning to experience, return to the
way of meditation and reasoning and natural forms. To this the answer is
that it is not to be understood that such as are beginning to experience
this loving knowledge must, as a general rule, never again try to return to
meditation; for, when they are first making progress in proficiency, the
habit of contemplation is not yet so perfect that they can give themselves
to the act thereof whensoever they wish, nor, in the same way, have they
reached a point so far beyond meditation that they cannot occasionally
meditate and reason in a natural way, as they were wont, using the figures
and the steps that they were wont to use, and finding something new in them.
Rather, in these early stages, when, by means of the indications already
given, they are able to see that the soul is not occupied in that repose and
knowledge, they will need to make use of meditation until by means of it
they come to acquire in some degree of perfection the habit which we have
described. This will happen when, as soon as they seek to meditate, they
experience this knowledge and peace, and find themselves unable to meditate
and no longer desirous of doing so, as we have said. For until they reach
this stage, which is that of the proficient in this exercise, they use
sometimes the one and sometimes the other, at different times.

2. The soul, then, will frequently find itself in this loving or peaceful
state of waiting upon God [318] without in any way exercising its faculties
that is, with respect to particular acts and without working actively at
all, but only receiving. In order to reach this state, it will frequently
need to make use of meditation, quietly and in moderation; but, when once
the soul is brought into this other state, it acts not at all with its
faculties, as we have already said. It would be truer to say that
understanding and sweetness work in it and are wrought within it, than that
the soul itself works at all, save only by waiting upon God and by loving
Him without desiring to feel or to see anything. Then God communicates
Himself to it passively, even as to one who has his eyes open, so that light
is communicated to him passively, without his doing more than keep them
open. And this reception of light which is infused supernaturally is passive
understanding. We say that the soul works not at all, not because it
understands not, but because it understands things without taxing its own
industry and receives only that which is given to it, as comes to pass in
the illuminations and enlightenments or inspirations of God.

3. Although in this condition the will freely receives this general and
confused knowledge of God, it is needful, in order that it may receive this
Divine light more simply and abundantly, only that it should not try to
interpose other lights which are more palpable, whether forms or ideas or
figures having to do with any kind of meditation; for none of these things
is similar to that pure and serene light. So that if at this time the will
desires to understand and consider particular things, however spiritual they
be, this would obstruct the pure and simple general light of the spirit, by
setting those clouds in the way; even as a man might set something before
his eyes which impeded his vision and kept from him both the light and the
sight of things in front of him.

4. Hence it clearly follows that, when the soul has completely purified and
voided itself of all forms and images that can be apprehended, it will
remain in this pure and simple light, being transformed therein into a state
of perfection. For, though this light never fails in the soul, it is not
infused into it because of the creature forms and veils wherewith the soul
is veiled and embarrassed; but, if these impediments and these veils were
wholly removed (as will be said hereafter), the soul would then find itself
in a condition of pure detachment and poverty of spirit, and, being simple
and pure, would be transformed into simple and pure Wisdom, which is the Son
of God. For the enamoured soul finds that that which is natural has failed
it, and it is then imbued with that which is Divine, both naturally and
supernaturally, so that there may be no vacuum in its nature.

5. When the spiritual person cannot meditate, let him learn to be still in
God, fixing his loving attention upon Him, in the calm of his understanding,
although he may think himself to be doing nothing. For thus, little by
little and very quickly, Divine calm and peace will be infused into his
soul, together with a wondrous and sublime knowledge of God, enfolded in
Divine love. And let him not meddle with forms, meditations and imaginings,
or with any kind of reasoning, lest his soul be disturbed, and brought out
of its contentment and peace, which can only result in its experiencing
distaste and repugnance. And if, as we have said, such a person has scruples
that he is doing nothing, let him note that he is doing no small thing by
pacifying the soul and bringing it into calm and peace, unaccompanied by any
act or desire, for it is this that Our Lord asks of us, through David,
saying: Vacate, et videte quoniam ego sum Deus. [319] As though he had said:
Learn to be empty of all things (that is to say, inwardly and outwardly) and
you will see that I am God.
_________________________________________________________________

[318] [Lit.,˜in this loving or peaceful presence, the original of
˜presence having also the sense of˜attendance.]

[319] Psalm xlv, 11 [A.V., xlvi, 10].
_________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XVI

Which treats of the imaginary apprehensions that are supernaturally
represented in the fancy. Describing how they cannot serve the soul as a
proximate means to union with God.

Now that we have treated of the apprehensions which the soul can receive
within itself by natural means, and whereon the fancy and the imagination
can work by means of reflection, it will be suitable to treat here of the
supernatural apprehensions, which are called imaginary visions, which
likewise belong to these senses, since they come within the category of
images, forms and figures, exactly as do the natural apprehensions.

2. It must be understood that beneath this term˜imaginary vision we
purpose to include all things which can be represented to the imagination
supernaturally by means of any image, form, figure and species. For all the
apprehensions and species which, through all the five bodily senses, are
represented to the soul, and dwell within it, after a natural manner, may
likewise occur in the soul after a supernatural manner, and be represented
to it without any assistance of the outward senses. For this sense of fancy,
together with memory, is, as it were, an archive and storehouse of the
understanding, wherein are received all forms and images that can be
understood; and thus the soul has them within itself as it were in a mirror,
having received them by means of the five senses, or, as we say,
supernaturally; and thus it presents them to the understanding, whereupon
the understanding considers them and judges them. And not only so, but the
soul can also prepare and imagine others like to those with which it is
acquainted.

3. It must be understood, then, that, even as the five outward senses
represent the images and species of their objects to these inward senses,
even so, supernaturally, as we say, without using the outward senses, both
God and the devil can represent the same images and species, and much more
beautiful and perfect ones. Wherefore, beneath these images, God often
represents many things to the soul, and teaches it much wisdom; this is
continually seen in the Scriptures, as when Isaias saw God in His glory
beneath the smoke which covered the Temple, and beneath the seraphim who
covered their faces and their feet with wings; [320] and as Jeremias saw the
rod watching, [321] and Daniel a multitude of visions, [322] etc. And the
devil, too, strives to deceive the soul with his visions, which in
appearance are good, as may be seen in the Book of the Kings, when he
deceived all the prophets of Achab, presenting to their imaginations the
hor