DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL

by

Saint John of the Cross

DOCTOR OF THE CHURCH

THIRD REVISED EDITION

Table of Contents

PRINCIPAL ABBREVIATIONS 3

INTRODUCTION 3

MANUSCRIPTS OF THE DARK NIGHT 8

PROLOGUE 12

STANZAS OF THE SOUL 12

BOOK THE FIRST 13

CHAPTER I 13

CHAPTER II 15

CHAPTER III 18

CHAPTER IV 19

CHAPTER V 22

CHAPTER VI 23

CHAPTER VII 26

CHAPTER VIII 27

CHAPTER IX 29

CHAPTER X 32

CHAPTER XI 34

CHAPTER XII 36

CHAPTER XIII 40

CHAPTER XIV 43

BOOK THE SECOND 45

CHAPTER I 45

CHAPTER II 47

CHAPTER III 48

CHAPTER IV 50

CHAPTER V 50

CHAPTER VI 53

CHAPTER VII 55

CHAPTER VIII 59

CHAPTER IX 62

CHAPTER X 67

CHAPTER XI 69

CHAPTER XII 72

CHAPTER XIII 74

CHAPTER XIV 78

CHAPTER XV 80

CHAPTER XVI 80

CHAPTER XVII 85

CHAPTER XVIII 89

CHAPTER XIX 90

CHAPTER XX 94

CHAPTER XXI 96

CHAPTER XXII 99

CHAPTER XXIII 100

CHAPTER XXIV 105

CHAPTER XXV 106

Translated and edited, with an Introduction,

by E. ALLISON PEERS

from the critical edition of

P. SILVERIO DE SANTA TERESA, C.D.

TO THE

DISCALCED CARMELITES OF CASTILE,

WITH ABIDING MEMORIES OF THEIR HOSPITALITY AND KINDNESS

IN MADRID, VILA AND BURGOS,

BUT ABOVE ALL OF THEIR DEVOTION TO

SAINT JOHN OF THE CROSS,

I DEDICATE THIS TRANSLATION

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 Washbourne, 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 por 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.--Jose Antonio de Sobrino, S.J.: Estudios sobre San Juan de la

Cruz y nuevos textos de su obra. Madrid, 1950.

__________________________________________________________________

DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL

INTRODUCTION

SOMEWHAT reluctantly, out of respect for a venerable tradition, we

publish the Dark Night as a separate treatise, though in reality it is

a continuation of the Ascent of Mount Carmel and fulfils the

undertakings given in it:

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, with respect to

the activity of the soul; and in the fourth part, with respect to

its passivity. [1]

This fourth part' is the Dark Night. Of it the Saint writes in a

passage which follows that just quoted:

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.

[2]

In his three earlier books he has written of the Active Night, of Sense

and of Spirit; he now proposes to deal with the Passive Night, in the

same order. He has already taught us how we are to deny and purify

ourselves with the ordinary help of grace, in order to prepare our

senses and faculties for union with God through love. He now proceeds

to explain, with an arresting freshness, how these same senses and

faculties are purged and purified by God with a view to the same

end--that of union. The combined description of the two nights

completes the presentation of active and passive purgation, to which

the Saint limits himself in these treatises, although the subject of

the stanzas which he is glossing is a much wider one, comprising the

whole of the mystical life and ending only with the Divine embraces of

the soul transformed in God through love.

The stanzas expounded by the Saint are taken from the same poem in the

two treatises. The commentary upon the second, however, is very

different from that upon the first, for it assumes a much more advanced

state of development. The Active Night has left the senses and

faculties well prepared, though not completely prepared, for the

reception of Divine influences and illuminations in greater abundance

than before. The Saint here postulates a principle of dogmatic

theology--that by himself, and with the ordinary aid of grace, man

cannot attain to that degree of purgation which is essential to his

transformation in God. He needs Divine aid more abundantly. However

greatly the soul itself labours,' writes the Saint, it cannot actively

purify itself so as to be in the least degree prepared for the Divine

union of perfection of love, if God takes not its hand and purges it

not in that dark fire.' [3]

The Passive Nights, in which it is God Who accomplishes the purgation,

are based upon this incapacity. Souls begin to enter' this dark night

when God draws them forth from the state of beginners--which is the

state of those that meditate on the spiritual road--and begins to

set them in the state of progressives--which is that of those who

are already contemplatives--to the end that, after passing through

it, they may arrive at the state of the perfect, which is that of

the Divine union of the soul with God. [4]

Before explaining the nature and effects of this Passive Night, the

Saint touches, in passing, upon certain imperfections found in those

who are about to enter it and which it removes by the process of

purgation. Such travellers are still untried proficients, who have not

yet acquired mature habits of spirituality and who therefore still

conduct themselves as children. The imperfections are examined one by

one, following the order of the seven deadly sins, in chapters

(ii-viii) which once more reveal the author's skill as a director of

souls. They are easy chapters to understand, and of great practical

utility, comparable to those in the first book of the Ascent which deal

with the active purgation of the desires of sense.

In Chapter viii, St. John of the Cross begins to describe the Passive

Night of the senses, the principal aim of which is the purgation or

stripping of the soul of its imperfections and the preparation of it

for fruitive union. The Passive Night of Sense, we are told, is common'

and comes to many,' whereas that of Spirit is the portion of very few.'

[5] The one is bitter and terrible' but the second bears no comparison

with it,' for it is horrible and awful to the spirit.' [6] A good deal

of literature on the former Night existed in the time of St. John of

the Cross and he therefore promises to be brief in his treatment of it.

Of the latter, on the other hand, he will treat more fully . . . since

very little has been said of this, either in speech or in writing, and

very little is known of it, even by experience.' [7]

Having described this Passive Night of Sense in Chapter viii, he

explains with great insight and discernment how it may be recognized

whether any given aridity is a result of this Night or whether it comes

from sins or imperfections, or from frailty or lukewarmness of spirit,

or even from indisposition or humours' of the body. The Saint is

particularly effective here, and we may once more compare this chapter

with a similar one in the Ascent (II, xiii)--that in which he fixes the

point where the soul may abandon discursive meditation and enter the

contemplation which belongs to loving and simple faith.

Both these chapters have contributed to the reputation of St. John of

the Cross as a consummate spiritual master. And this not only for the

objective value of his observations, but because, even in spite of

himself, he betrays the sublimity of his own mystical experiences. Once

more, too, we may admire the crystalline transparency of his teaching

and the precision of the phrases in which he clothes it. To judge by

his language alone, one might suppose at times that he is speaking of

mathematical, rather than of spiritual operations.

In Chapter x, the Saint describes the discipline which the soul in this

Dark Night must impose upon itself; this, as might be logically deduced

from the Ascent, consists in allowing the soul to remain in peace and

quietness,' content with a peaceful and loving attentiveness toward

God.' [8] Before long it will experience enkindlings of love (Chapter

xi), which will serve to purify its sins and imperfections and draw it

gradually nearer to God; we have here, as it were, so many stages of

the ascent of the Mount on whose summit the soul attains to

transforming union. Chapters xii and xiii detail with great exactness

the benefits that the soul receives from this aridity, while Chapter

xiv briefly expounds the last line of the first stanza and brings to an

end what the Saint desires to say with respect to the first Passive

Night.

At only slightly greater length St. John of the Cross describes the

Passive Night of the Spirit, which is at once more afflictive and more

painful than those which have preceded it. This, nevertheless, is the

Dark Night par excellence, of which the Saint speaks in these words:

The night which we have called that of sense may and should be called a

kind of correction and restraint of the desire rather than purgation.

The reason is that all the imperfections and disorders of the sensual

part have their strength and root in the spirit, where all habits, both

good and bad, are brought into subjection, and thus, until these are

purged, the rebellions and depravities of sense cannot be purged

thoroughly.' [9]

Spiritual persons, we are told, do not enter the second night

immediately after leaving the first; on the contrary, they generally

pass a long time, even years, before doing so, [10] for they still have

many imperfections, both habitual and actual (Chapter ii). After a

brief introduction (Chapter iii), the Saint describes with some

fullness the nature of this spiritual purgation or dark contemplation

referred to in the first stanza of his poem and the varieties of pain

and affliction caused by it, whether in the soul or in its faculties

(Chapters iv-viii). These chapters are brilliant beyond all

description; in them we seem to reach the culminating point of their

author's mystical experience; any excerpt from them would do them an

injustice. It must suffice to say that St. John of the Cross seldom

again touches those same heights of sublimity.

Chapter ix describes how, although these purgations seem to blind the

spirit, they do so only to enlighten it again with a brighter and

intenser light, which it is preparing itself to receive with greater

abundance. The following chapter makes the comparison between spiritual

purgation and the log of wood which gradually becomes transformed

through being immersed in fire and at last takes on the fire's own

properties. The force with which the familiar similitude is driven home

impresses indelibly upon the mind the fundamental concept of this most

sublime of all purgations. Marvellous, indeed, are its effects, from

the first enkindlings and burnings of Divine love, which are greater

beyond comparison than those produced by the Night of Sense, the one

being as different from the other as is the body from the soul. For

this (latter) is an enkindling of spiritual love in the soul, which, in

the midst of these dark confines, feels itself to be keenly and sharply

wounded in strong Divine love, and to have a certain realization and

foretaste of God.' [11] No less wonderful are the effects of the

powerful Divine illumination which from time to time enfolds the soul

in the splendours of glory. When the effects of the light that wounds

and yet illumines are combined with those of the enkindlement that

melts the soul with its heat, the delights experienced are so great as

to be ineffable.

The second line of the first stanza of the poem is expounded in three

admirable chapters (xi-xiii), while one short chapter (xiv) suffices

for the three lines remaining. We then embark upon the second stanza,

which describes the soul's security in the Dark Night--due, among other

reasons, to its being freed not only from itself, but likewise from its

other enemies, which are the world and the devil.' [12]

This contemplation is not only dark, but also secret (Chapter xvii),

and in Chapter xviii is compared to the staircase' of the poem. This

comparison suggests to the Saint an exposition (Chapters xviii, xix) of

the ten steps or degrees of love which comprise St. Bernard's mystical

ladder. Chapter xxi describes the soul's disguise,' from which the book

passes on (Chapters xxii, xxiii) to extol the happy chance' which led

it to journey in darkness and concealment' from its enemies, both

without and within.

Chapter xxiv glosses the last line of the second stanza--my house being

now at rest.' Both the higher and the lower portions of the soul' are

now tranquillized and prepared for the desired union with the Spouse, a

union which is the subject that the Saint proposed to treat in his

commentary on the five remaining stanzas. As far as we know, this

commentary was never written. We have only the briefest outline of what

was to have been covered in the third, in which, following the same

effective metaphor of night, the Saint describes the excellent

properties of the spiritual night of infused contemplation, through

which the soul journeys with no other guide or support, either outward

or inward, than the Divine love which burned in my heart.'

It is difficult to express adequately the sense of loss that one feels

at the premature truncation of this eloquent treatise. [13] We have

already given our opinion [14] upon the commentaries thought to have

been written on the final stanzas of the Dark Night.' Did we possess

them, they would explain the birth of the light--dawn's first

breathings in the heav'ns above'--which breaks through the black

darkness of the Active and the Passive Nights; they would tell us, too,

of the soul's further progress towards the Sun's full brightness. It is

true, of course, that some part of this great gap is filled by St. John

of the Cross himself in his other treatises, but it is small

compensation for the incomplete state in which he left this edifice of

such gigantic proportions that he should have given us other and

smaller buildings of a somewhat similar kind. Admirable as are the

Spiritual Canticle and the Living Flame of Love, they are not so

completely knit into one whole as is this great double treatise. They

lose both in flexibility and in substance through the closeness with

which they follow the stanzas of which they are the exposition. In the

Ascent and the Dark Night, on the other hand, we catch only the echoes

of the poem, which are all but lost in the resonance of the

philosopher's voice and the eloquent tones of the preacher. Nor have

the other treatises the learning and the authority of these. Nowhere

else does the genius of St. John of the Cross for infusing philosophy

into his mystical dissertations find such an outlet as here. Nowhere

else, again, is he quite so appealingly human; for, though he is human

even in his loftiest and sublimest passages, this intermingling of

philosophy with mystical theology makes him seem particularly so. These

treatises are a wonderful illustration of the theological truth that

grace, far from destroying nature, ennobles and dignifies it, and of

the agreement always found between the natural and the

supernatural--between the principles of sound reason and the sublimest

manifestations of Divine grace.

__________________________________________________________________

[1] Ascent, Bk. I, chap. i, sect. 2.

[2] Op. cit., sect. 3.

[3] Dark Night, Bk. 1, chap. iii, sect. 3.

[4] Op. cit., Bk. I, chap. i, sect. 1.

[5] Dark Night, Bk. 1, chap. viii, sect. 1.

[6] Op. cit., Bk. I, chap. viii, sect. 2.

[7] Ibid.

[8] Dark Night, Bk. I, chap. x, sect. 4.

[9] Op. cit., Bk. II, chap. iii, sect. 1.

[10] Op. cit., Bk. II, chap. i, sect. 1.

[11] Dark Night, Bk. II, chap. xi, sect. 1.

[12] Dark Night, Bk. II, chap. xvi, sect. 2.

[13] [On this, see Sobrino, pp. 159-66.]

[14] Cf. pp. lviii-lxiii, Ascent of Mount Carmel (Image Books edition).

__________________________________________________________________

MANUSCRIPTS OF THE DARK NIGHT

The autograph of the Dark Night, like that of the Ascent of Mount

Carmel, is unknown to us: the second seems to have disappeared in the

same period as the first. There are extant, however, as many as twelve

early copies of the Dark Night, some of which, though none of them is

as palaeographically accurate as the best copy of the Ascent, are very

reliable; there is no trace in them of conscious adulteration of the

original or of any kind of modification to fit the sense of any passage

into a preconceived theory. We definitely prefer one of these copies to

the others but we nowhere follow it so literally as to incorporate in

our text its evident discrepancies from its original.

MS. 3,446. An early MS. in the clear masculine hand of an Andalusian:

MS. 3,446 in the National Library, Madrid. Like many others, this MS.

was transferred to the library from the Convento de San Hermenegildo at

the time of the religious persecutions in the early nineteenth century;

it had been presented to the Archives of the Reform by the Fathers of

Los Remedios, Seville--a Carmelite house founded by P. Grecian in 1574.

It has no title and a fragment from the Living Flame of Love is bound

up with it.

This MS. has only two omissions of any length; these form part

respectively of Book II, Chapters xix and xxiii, dealing with the

Passive Night of the Spirit. It has many copyist's errors. At the same

time, its antiquity and origin, and the good faith of which it shows

continual signs, give it, in our view, primacy over the other copies

now to come under consideration. It must be made clear, nevertheless,

that there is no extant copy of the Dark Night as trustworthy and as

skilfully made as the Alcaudete MS. of the Ascent.

MS. of the Carmelite Nuns of Toledo. Written in three hands, all early.

Save for a few slips of the copyist, it agrees with the foregoing; a

few of its errors have been corrected. It bears no title, but has a

long sub-title which is in effect a partial summary of the argument.

MS. of the Carmelite Nuns of Valladolid. This famous convent, which was

one of St. Teresa's foundations, is very rich in Teresan autographs,

and has also a number of important documents relating to St. John of

the Cross, together with some copies of his works. That here described

is written in a large, clear hand and probably dates from the end of

the sixteenth century. It has a title similar to that of the last-named

copy. With few exceptions it follows the other most important MSS.

MS. Alba de Tormes. What has been said of this in the introduction to

the Ascent (Image Books edition, pp. 6-7) applies also to the Dark

Night. It is complete, save for small omissions on the part of the

amanuensis, the Argument' at the beginning of the poem, the verses

themselves and a few lines from Book II, Chapter vii.

MS. 6,624. This copy is almost identical with the foregoing. It omits

the Argument' and the poem itself but not the lines from Book II,

Chapter vii.

MS. 8,795. This contains the Dark Night, Spiritual Canticle, Living

Flame of Love, a number of poems by St. John of the Cross and the

Spiritual Colloquies between Christ and the soul His Bride. It is

written in various hands, all very early and some feminine. A note by

P. Andras de la Encarnacian, on the reverse of the first folio, records

that the copy was presented to the Archives of the Reform by the

Discalced Carmelite nuns of Baeza. This convent was founded in 1589,

two years before the Saint's death, and the copy may well date from

about this period. On the second folio comes the poem I entered in--I

knew not where.' On the reverse of the third folio begins a kind of

preface to the Dark Night, opening with the words: Begin the stanzas by

means of which a soul may occupy itself and become fervent in the love

of God. It deals with the Dark Night and is divided into two books. The

first treats of the purgation of sense, and the second of the spiritual

purgation of man. It was written by P. Fr. Juan de la Cruz, Discalced

Carmelite.' On the next folio, a so-called Preface: To the Reader'

begins: As a beginning and an explanation of these two purgations of

the Dark Night which are to be expounded hereafter, this chapter will

show how narrow is the path that leads to eternal life and how

completely detached and disencumbered must be those that are to enter

thereby.' This fundamental idea is developed for the space of two

folios. There follows a sonnet on the Dark Night, [15] and immediately

afterwards comes the text of the treatise.

The copy contains many errors, but its only omission is that of the

last chapter. There is no trace in it of any attempt to modify its

original; indeed, the very nature and number of the copyist's errors

are a testimony to his good faith.

MS. 12,658. A note by P. Andrs states that he acquired it in Madrid

but has no more detailed recollection of its provenance. The Dark

Night,' it adds, begins on folio 43; our holy father is described

simply as "the second friar of the new Reformation," [16] which is

clear evidence of its antiquity.'

The Codex contains a number of opuscules, transcribed no doubt with a

devotional aim by the copyist. Its epoch is probably the end of the

sixteenth century; it is certainly earlier than the editions. There is

no serious omission except that of six lines of the Argument.' The

authors of the other works copied include St. Augustine, B. Juan de

Avila, P. Baltasar Alvarez and P. Tomas de Jesus.

The copies which remain to be described are all mutilated or

abbreviated and can be disposed of briefly:

MS. 13,498. This copy omits less of the Dark Night than of the Ascent

but few pages are without their omissions. In one place a meticulous

pair of scissors has removed the lower half of a folio on which the

Saint deals with spiritual luxury.

MS. of the Carmelite Friars of Toledo. Dates from early in the

seventeenth century and has numerous omissions, especially in the

chapters on the Passive Night of the Spirit. The date is given (in the

same hand as that which copies the title) as 1618. This MS. also

contains an opuscule by Suso and another entitled Brief compendium of

the most eminent Christian perfection of P. Fr. Juan de la Cruz.'

MS. 18,160. The copyist has treated the Dark Night little better than

the Ascent; except from the first ten and the last three chapters, he

omits freely.

MS. 12,411. Entitled by its copyist 'spiritual Compendium,' this MS.

contains several short works of devotion, including one by Ruysbroeck.

Of St. John of the Cross's works it copies the Spiritual Canticle as

well as the Dark Night; the latter is headed: 'song of one soul alone.'

It also contains a number of poems, some of them by the Saint, and many

passages from St. Teresa. It is in several hands, all of the

seventeenth century. The copy of the Dark Night is most unsatisfactory;

there are omissions and abbreviations everywhere.

M.S. of the Carmelite Nuns of Pamplona. This MS. also omits and

abbreviates continually, especially in the chapters on the Passive

Night of Sense, which are reduced to a mere skeleton.

Editio princeps. This is much more faithful to its original in the Dark

Night than in the Ascent. Both the passages suppressed [17] and the

interpolations [18] are relatively few and unimportant. Modifications

of phraseology are more frequent and alterations are also made with the

aim of correcting hyperbaton. In the first book about thirty lines are

suppressed; in the second, about ninety. All changes which are of any

importance have been shown in the notes.

The present edition. We have given preference, as a general rule, to

MS. 3,446, subjecting it, however, to a rigorous comparison with the

other copies. Mention has already been made in the introduction to the

Ascent (Image Books edition, pp. lxiii-lxvi) of certain apparent

anomalies and a certain lack of uniformity in the Saint's method of

dividing his commentaries. This is nowhere more noticeable than in the

Dark Night. Instead of dividing his treatise into books, each with its

proper title, the Saint abandons this method and uses titles only

occasionally. As this makes comprehension of his argument the more

difficult, we have adopted the divisions which were introduced by P.

Salablanca and have been copied by successive editors.

M. Baruzi (Bulletin Hispanique, 1922, Vol. xxiv, pp. 18-40) complains

that this division weighs down the spiritual rhythm of the treatise and

interrupts its movement. We do not agree. In any case, we greatly

prefer the gain of clarity, even if the rhythm occasionally halts, to

the other alternative--the constant halting of the understanding. We

have, of course, indicated every place where the title is taken from

the editio princeps and was not the work of the author.

The following abbreviations are adopted in the footnotes:

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

B = MS. 6,624 (National Library, Madrid).

Bz. = MS. 8,795 (N.L.M.).

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

G = MS. 18,160 (N.L.M.).

H = MS. 3,446 (N.L.M.).

M = MS. of the Discalced Carmelite Nuns of Toledo.

Mtr. = MS. 12,658.

P = MS. of the Discalced Carmelite Friars of Toledo.

V = MS. of the Discalced Carmelite Nuns of Valladolid.

E.p. = Editio princeps (1618).

MS. 12,411 and the MS. of the Discalced Carmelite nuns of Pamplona are

cited without abbreviations.

__________________________________________________________________

[15] [It contains a series of paradoxical statements, after the style

of those in Ascent, Bk. I, chap. xiii, and is of no great literary

merit. P. Silverio reproduces it in Spanish on p. 302 (note) of his

first volume.]

[16] The first friar' would be P. Antonio de Jesus, who was senior to

St. John of the Cross in the Carmelite Order, though not in the Reform.

[17] The longest of these are one of ten lines in Bk. I, chap. iv, [in

the original] and those of Bk. II, chaps. vii, viii, xii, xiii, which

vary from eleven to twenty-three lines. Bk. II, chap. xxiii, has also

considerable modifications.

[18] The chief interpolation is in Bk. I, chap. x.

__________________________________________________________________

DARK NIGHT

Exposition of the stanzas describing the method followed by the soul

in its journey upon the spiritual road to the attainment of the

perfect union of love with God, to the extent that is possible in

this life. Likewise are described the properties belonging to the

soul that has attained to the said perfection, according as they are

contained in the same stanzas.

PROLOGUE

IN this book are first set down all the stanzas which are to be

expounded; afterwards, each of the stanzas is expounded separately,

being set down before its exposition; and then each line is expounded

separately and in turn, the line itself also being set down before the

exposition. In the first two stanzas are expounded the effects of the

two spiritual purgations: of the sensual part of man and of the

spiritual part. In the other six are expounded various and wondrous

effects of the spiritual illumination and union of love with God.

STANZAS OF THE SOUL

1. On a dark night, Kindled in love with yearnings--oh, happy

chance!--

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

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; My face I reclined on the Beloved.

All ceased and I abandoned myself, Leaving my cares forgotten among

the lilies.

Begins the exposition of the stanzas which treat of the way and manner

which the soul follows upon the road of the union of love with God.

Before we enter upon the exposition of these stanzas, it is well to

understand here that the soul that utters them is now in the state of

perfection, which is the union of love with God, having already passed

through severe trials and straits, by means of spiritual exercise in

the narrow way of eternal life whereof Our Saviour speaks in the

Gospel, along which way the soul ordinarily passes in order to reach

this high and happy union with God. Since this road (as the Lord

Himself says likewise) is so strait, and since there are so few that

enter by it, [19] the soul considers it a great happiness and good

chance to have passed along it to the said perfection of love, as it

sings in this first stanza, calling this strait road with full

propriety dark night,' as will be explained hereafter in the lines of

the said stanza. The soul, then, rejoicing at having passed along this

narrow road whence so many blessings have come to it, speaks after this

manner.

__________________________________________________________________

[19] St. Matthew vii, 14.

__________________________________________________________________

BOOK THE FIRST

Which treats of the Night of Sense.

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.

EXPOSITION

IN this first stanza the soul relates the way and manner which it

followed in going forth, as to its affection, from itself and from all

things, and in dying to them all and to itself, by means of true

mortification, in order to attain to living the sweet and delectable

life of love with God; and it says that this going forth from itself

and from all things was a dark night,' by which, as will be explained

hereafter, is here understood purgative contemplation, which causes

passively in the soul the negation of itself and of all things referred

to above.

2. And this going forth it says here that it was able to accomplish in

the strength and ardour which love for its Spouse gave to it for that

purpose in the dark contemplation aforementioned. Herein it extols the

great happiness which it found in journeying to God through this night

with such signal success that none of the three enemies, which are

world, devil and flesh (who are they that ever impede this road), could

hinder it; inasmuch as the aforementioned night of purgative [20]

contemplation lulled to sleep and mortified, in the house of its

sensuality, all the passions and desires with respect to their

mischievous desires and motions. The line, then, says:

On a dark night

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER I

Sets down the first line and begins to treat of the imperfections of

beginners.

INTO this dark night souls begin to enter when God draws them forth

from the state of beginners--which is the state of those that meditate

on the spiritual road--and begins to set them in the state of

progressives--which is that of those who are already contemplatives--to

the end that, after passing through it, they may arrive at the state of

the perfect, which is that of the Divine union of the soul with God.

Wherefore, to the end that we may the better understand and explain

what night is this through which the soul passes, and for what cause

God sets it therein, it will be well here to touch first of all upon

certain characteristics of beginners (which, although we treat them

with all possible brevity, will not fail to be of service likewise to

the beginners themselves), in order that, realizing the weakness of the

state wherein they are, they may take courage, and may desire that God

will bring them into this night, wherein the soul is strengthened and

confirmed in the virtues, and made ready for the inestimable delights

of the love of God. And, although we may tarry here for a time, it will

not be for longer than is necessary, so that we may go on to speak at

once of this dark night.

2. It must be known, then, that the soul, after it has been definitely

converted to the service of God, is, as a rule, spiritually nurtured

and caressed by God, even as is the tender child by its loving mother,

who warms it with the heat of her bosom and nurtures it with sweet milk

and soft and pleasant food, and carries it and caresses it in her arms;

but, as the child grows bigger, the mother gradually ceases caressing

it, and, hiding her tender love, puts bitter aloes upon her sweet

breast, sets down the child from her arms and makes it walk upon its

feet, so that it may lose the habits of a child and betake itself to

more important and substantial occupations. The loving mother is like

the grace of God, for, as soon as the soul is regenerated by its new

warmth and fervour for the service of God, He treats it in the same

way; He makes it to find spiritual milk, sweet and delectable, in all

the things of God, without any labour of its own, and also great

pleasure in spiritual exercises, for here God is giving to it the

breast of His tender love, even as to a tender child.

3. Therefore, such a soul finds its delight in spending long

periods--perchance whole nights--in prayer; penances are its pleasures;

fasts its joys; and its consolations are to make use of the sacraments

and to occupy itself in Divine things. In the which things spiritual

persons (though taking part in them with great efficacy and persistence

and using and treating them with great care) often find themselves,

spiritually speaking, very weak and imperfect. For since they are moved

to these things and to these spiritual exercises by the consolation and

pleasure that they find in them, and since, too, they have not been

prepared for them by the practice of earnest striving in the virtues,

they have many faults and imperfections with respect to these spiritual

actions of theirs; for, after all, any man's actions correspond to the

habit of perfection attained by him. And, as these persons have not had

the opportunity of acquiring the said habits of strength, they have

necessarily to work like feebler children, feebly. In order that this

may be seen more clearly, and likewise how much these beginners in the

virtues lacks with respect to the works in which they so readily engage

with the pleasure aforementioned, we shall describe it by reference to

the seven capital sins, each in its turn, indicating some of the many

imperfections which they have under each heading; wherein it will be

clearly seen how like to children are these persons in all they do. And

it will also be seen how many blessings the dark night of which we

shall afterwards treat brings with it, since it cleanses the soul and

purifies it from all these imperfections.

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER II

Of certain spiritual imperfections which beginners have with respect

to the habit of pride.

AS these beginners feel themselves to be very fervent and diligent in

spiritual things and devout exercises, from this prosperity (although

it is true that holy things of their own nature cause humility) there

often comes to them, through their imperfections, a certain kind of

secret pride, whence they come to have some degree of satisfaction with

their works and with themselves. And hence there comes to them likewise

a certain desire, which is somewhat vain, and at times very vain, to

speak of spiritual things in the presence of others, and sometimes even

to teach such things rather than to learn them. They condemn others in

their heart when they see that they have not the kind of devotion which

they themselves desire; and sometimes they even say this in words,

herein resembling the Pharisee, who boasted of himself, praising God

for his own good works and despising the publican. [21]

2. In these persons the devil often increases the fervour that they

have and the desire to perform these and other works more frequently,

so that their pride and presumption may grow greater. For the devil

knows quite well that all these works and virtues which they perform

are not only valueless to them, but even become vices in them. And such

a degree of evil are some of these persons wont to reach that they

would have none appear good save themselves; and thus, in deed and

word, whenever the opportunity occurs, they condemn them and slander

them, beholding the mote in their brother's eye and not considering the

beam which is in their own; [22] they strain at another's gnat and

themselves swallow a camel. [23]

3. Sometimes, too, when their spiritual masters, such as confessors and

superiors, do not approve of their spirit and behavior (for they are

anxious that all they do shall be esteemed and praised), they consider

that they do not understand them, or that, because they do not approve

of this and comply with that, their confessors are themselves not

spiritual. And so they immediately desire and contrive to find some one

else who will fit in with their tastes; for as a rule they desire to

speak of spiritual matters with those who they think will praise and

esteem what they do, and they flee, as they would from death, from

those who disabuse them in order to lead them into a safe

road--sometimes they even harbour ill-will against them. Presuming

thus, [24] they are wont to resolve much and accomplish very little.

Sometimes they are anxious that others shall realize how spiritual and

devout they are, to which end they occasionally give outward evidence

thereof in movements, sighs and other ceremonies; and at times they are

apt to fall into certain ecstasies, in public rather than in secret,

wherein the devil aids them, and they are pleased that this should be

noticed, and are often eager that it should be noticed more. [25]

4. Many such persons desire to be the favourites of their confessors

and to become intimate with them, as a result of which there beset them

continual occasions of envy and disquiet. [26] They are too much

embarrassed to confess their sins nakedly, lest their confessors should

think less of them, so they palliate them and make them appear less

evil, and thus it is to excuse themselves rather than to accuse

themselves that they go to confession. And sometimes they seek another

confessor to tell the wrongs that they have done, so that their own

confessor shall think they have done nothing wrong at all, but only

good; and thus they always take pleasure in telling him what is good,

and sometimes in such terms as make it appear to be greater than it is

rather than less, desiring that he may think them to be good, when it

would be greater humility in them, as we shall say, to depreciate it,

and to desire that neither he nor anyone else should consider them of

account.

5. Some of these beginners, too, make little of their faults, and at

other times become over-sad when they see themselves fall into them,

thinking themselves to have been saints already; and thus they become

angry and impatient with themselves, which is another imperfection.

Often they beseech God, with great yearnings, that He will take from

them their imperfections and faults, but they do this that they may

find themselves at peace, and may not be troubled by them, rather than

for God's sake; not realizing that, if He should take their

imperfections from them, they would probably become prouder and more

presumptuous still. They dislike praising others and love to be praised

themselves; sometimes they seek out such praise. Herein they are like

the foolish virgins, who, when their lamps could not be lit, sought oil

from others. [27]

6. From these imperfections some souls go on to develop [28] many very

grave ones, which do them great harm. But some have fewer and some

more, and some, only the first motions thereof or little beyond these;

and there are hardly any such beginners who, at the time of these signs

of fervour, [29] fall not into some of these errors. [30] But those who

at this time are going on to perfection proceed very differently and

with quite another temper of spirit; for they progress by means of

humility and are greatly edified, not only thinking naught of their own

affairs, but having very little satisfaction with themselves; they

consider all others as far better, and usually have a holy envy of

them, and an eagerness to serve God as they do. For the greater is

their fervour, and the more numerous are the works that they perform,

and the greater is the pleasure that they take in them, as they

progress in humility, the more do they realize how much God deserves of

them, and how little is all that they do for His sake; and thus, the

more they do, the less are they satisfied. So much would they gladly do

from charity and love for Him, that all they do seems to them naught;

and so greatly are they importuned, occupied and absorbed by this

loving anxiety that they never notice what others do or do not; or if

they do notice it, they always believe, as I say, that all others are

far better than they themselves. Wherefore, holding themselves as of

little worth, they are anxious that others too should thus hold them,

and should despise and depreciate that which they do. And further, if

men should praise and esteem them, they can in no wise believe what

they say; it seems to them strange that anyone should say these good

things of them.

7. Together with great tranquillity and humbleness, these souls have a

deep desire to be taught by anyone who can bring them profit; they are

the complete opposite of those of whom we have spoken above, who would

fain be always teaching, and who, when others seem to be teaching them,

take the words from their mouths as if they knew them already. These

souls, on the other hand, being far from desiring to be the masters of

any, are very ready to travel and set out on another road than that

which they are actually following, if they be so commanded, because

they never think that they are right in anything whatsoever. They

rejoice when others are praised; they grieve only because they serve

not God like them. They have no desire to speak of the things that they

do, because they think so little of them that they are ashamed to speak

of them even to their spiritual masters, since they seem to them to be

things that merit not being spoken of. They are more anxious to speak

of their faults and sins, or that these should be recognized rather

than their virtues; and thus they incline to talk of their souls with

those who account their actions and their spirituality of little value.

This is a characteristic of the spirit which is simple, pure, genuine

and very pleasing to God. For as the wise Spirit of God dwells in these

humble souls, He moves them and inclines them to keep His treasures

secretly within and likewise to cast out from themselves all evil. God

gives this grace to the humble, together with the other virtues, even

as He denies it to the proud.

8. These souls will give their heart's blood to anyone that serves God,

and will help others to serve Him as much as in them lies. The

imperfections into which they see themselves fall they bear with

humility, meekness of spirit and a loving fear of God, hoping in Him.

But souls who in the beginning journey with this kind of perfection

are, as I understand, and as has been said, a minority, and very few

are those who we can be glad do not fall into the opposite errors. For

this reason, as we shall afterwards say, God leads into the dark night

those whom He desires to purify from all these imperfections so that He

may bring them farther onward.

__________________________________________________________________

[21] St. Luke xviii, 11-12.

[22] St. Matthew vii, 3.

[23] St. Matthew xxiii, 24.

[24] [Lit., Presuming.']

[25] [The original merely has: and are often eager.']

[26] [Lit., a thousand envies and disquietudes.']

[27] St. Matthew xxv, 8. [Lit., who, having their lamps dead, sought

oil from without.']

[28] [Lit., to have.']

[29] [Lit., these fervours.']

[30] [Lit., into something of this.']

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER III

Of some imperfections which some of these souls are apt to have,

with respect to the second capital sin, which is avarice, in the

spiritual sense.

MANY of these beginners have also at times great spiritual avarice.

They will be found to be discontented with the spirituality which God

gives them; and they are very disconsolate and querulous because they

find not in spiritual things the consolation that they would desire.

Many can never have enough of listening to counsels and learning

spiritual precepts, and of possessing and reading many books which

treat of this matter, and they spend their time on all these things

rather than on works of mortification and the perfecting of the inward

poverty of spirit which should be theirs. Furthermore, they burden

themselves with images and rosaries which are very curious; now they

put down one, now take up another; now they change about, now change

back again; now they want this kind of thing, now that, preferring one

kind of cross to another, because it is more curious. And others you

will see adorned with agnusdeis [31] and relics and tokens, [32] like

children with trinkets. Here I condemn the attachment of the heart, and

the affection which they have for the nature, multitude and curiosity

of these things, inasmuch as it is quite contrary to poverty of spirit

which considers only the substance of devotion, makes use only of what

suffices for that end and grows weary of this other kind of

multiplicity and curiosity. For true devotion must issue from the

heart, and consist in the truth and substances alone of what is

represented by spiritual things; all the rest is affection and

attachment proceeding from imperfection; and in order that one may pass

to any kind of perfection it is necessary for such desires to be

killed.

2. I knew a person who for more than ten years made use of a cross

roughly formed from a branch [33] that had been blessed, fastened with

a pin twisted round it; he had never ceased using it, and he always

carried it about with him until I took it from him; and this was a

person of no small sense and understanding. And I saw another who said

his prayers using beads that were made of bones from the spine of a

fish; his devotion was certainly no less precious on that account in

the sight of God, for it is clear that these things carried no devotion

in their workmanship or value. Those, then, who start from these

beginnings and make good progress attach themselves to no visible

instruments, nor do they burden themselves with such, nor desire to

know more than is necessary in order that they may act well; for they

set their eyes only on being right with God and on pleasing Him, and

therein consists their covetousness. And thus with great generosity

they give away all that they have, and delight to know that they have

it not, for God's sake and for charity to their neighbour, no matter

whether these be spiritual things or temporal. For, as I say, they set

their eyes only upon the reality of interior perfection, which is to

give pleasure to God and in naught to give pleasure to themselves.

3. But neither from these imperfections nor from those others can the

soul be perfectly purified until God brings it into the passive

purgation of that dark night whereof we shall speak presently. It

befits the soul, however, to contrive to labour, in so far as it can,

on its own account, to the end that it may purge and perfect itself,

and thus may merit being taken by God into that Divine care wherein it

becomes healed of all things that it was unable of itself to cure.

Because, however greatly the soul itself labours, it cannot actively

purify itself so as to be in the least degree prepared for the Divine

union of perfection of love, if God takes not its hand and purges it

not in that dark fire, in the way and manner that we have to describe.

__________________________________________________________________

[31] The agnusdei was a wax medal with a representation of the lamb

stamped upon it, often blessed by the Pope; at the time of the Saint

such medals were greatly sought after, as we know from various

references in St. Teresa's letters.

[32] [The word namina, translated token,' and normally meaning list, or

roll,' refers to a relic on which were written the names of saints. In

modern Spanish it can denote a medal or amulet used superstitiously.]

[33] [No doubt a branch of palm, olive or rosemary, blessed in church

on Palm Sunday, like the English palm crosses of to-day. Palm Sunday'

is in Spanish Domingo de ramos: Branch Sunday.']

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER IV

Of other imperfections which these beginners are apt to have with

respect to the third sin, which is luxury.

MANY of these beginners have many other imperfections than those which

I am describing with respect to each of the deadly sins, but these I

set aside, in order to avoid prolixity, touching upon a few of the most

important, which are, as it were, the origin and cause of the rest. And

thus, with respect to this sin of luxury (leaving apart the falling of

spiritual persons into this sin, since my intent is to treat of the

imperfections which have to be purged by the dark night), they have

many imperfections which might be described as spiritual luxury, not

because they are so, but because the imperfections proceed from

spiritual things. For it often comes to pass that, in their very

spiritual exercises, when they are powerless to prevent it, there arise

and assert themselves in the sensual part of the soul impure acts and

motions, and sometimes this happens even when the spirit is deep in

prayer, or engaged in the Sacrament of Penance or in the Eucharist.

These things are not, as I say, in their power; they proceed from one

of three causes.

2. The first cause from which they often proceed is the pleasure which

human nature takes in spiritual things. For when the spirit and the

sense are pleased, every part of a man is moved by that pleasure [34]

to delight according to its proportion and nature. For then the spirit,

which is the higher part, is moved to pleasure [35] and delight in God;

and the sensual nature, which is the lower part, is moved to pleasure

and delight of the senses, because it cannot possess and lay hold upon

aught else, and it therefore lays hold upon that which comes nearest to

itself, which is the impure and sensual. Thus it comes to pass that the

soul is in deep prayer with God according to the spirit, and, on the

other hand, according to sense it is passively conscious, not without

great displeasure, of rebellions and motions and acts of the senses,

which often happens in Communion, for when the soul receives joy and

comfort in this act of love, because this Lord bestows it (since it is

to that end that He gives Himself), the sensual nature takes that which

is its own likewise, as we have said, after its manner. Now as, after

all, these two parts are combined in one individual, they ordinarily

both participate in that which one of them receives, each after its

manner; for, as the philosopher says, everything that is received is in

the recipient after the manner of the same recipient. And thus, in

these beginnings, and even when the soul has made some progress, its

sensual part, being imperfect, oftentimes receives the Spirit of God

with the same imperfection. Now when this sensual part is renewed by

the purgation of the dark night which we shall describe, it no longer

has these weaknesses; for it is no longer this part that receives

aught, but rather it is itself received into the Spirit. And thus it

then has everything after the manner of the Spirit.

3. The second cause whence these rebellions sometimes proceed is the

devil, who, in order to disquiet and disturb the soul, at times when it

is at prayer or is striving to pray, contrives to stir up these motions

of impurity in its nature; and if the soul gives heed to any of these,

they cause it great harm. For through fear of these not only do persons

become lax in prayer--which is the aim of the devil when he begins to

strive with them--but some give up prayer altogether, because they

think that these things attack them more during that exercise than

apart from it, which is true, since the devil attacks them then more

than at other times, so that they may give up spiritual exercises. And

not only so, but he succeeds in portraying to them very vividly things

that are most foul and impure, and at times are very closely related to

certain spiritual things and persons that are of profit to their souls,

in order to terrify them and make them fearful; so that those who are

affected by this dare not even look at anything or meditate upon

anything, because they immediately encounter this temptation. And upon

those who are inclined to melancholy this acts with such effect that

they become greatly to be pitied since they are suffering so sadly; for

this trial reaches such a point in certain persons, when they have this

evil humour, that they believe it to be clear that the devil is ever

present with them and that they have no power to prevent this, although

some of these persons can prevent his attack by dint of great effort

and labour. When these impurities attack such souls through the medium

of melancholy, they are not as a rule freed from them until they have

been cured of that kind of humour, unless the dark night has entered

the soul, and rids them of all impurities, one after another. [36]

4. The third source whence these impure motions are apt to proceed in

order to make war upon the soul is often the fear which such persons

have conceived for these impure representations and motions. Something

that they see or say or think brings them to their mind, and this makes

them afraid, so that they suffer from them through no fault of their

own.

5. There are also certain souls of so tender and frail a nature that,

when there comes to them some spiritual consolation or some grace in

prayer, the spirit of luxury is with them immediately, inebriating and

delighting their sensual nature in such manner that it is as if they

were plunged into the enjoyment and pleasure of this sin; and the

enjoyment remains, together with the consolation, passively, and

sometimes they are able to see that certain impure and unruly acts have

taken place. The reason for this is that, since these natures are, as I

say, frail and tender, their humours are stirred up and their blood is

excited at the least disturbance. And hence come these motions; and the

same thing happens to such souls when they are enkindled with anger or

suffer any disturbance or grief. [37]

6. Sometimes, again, there arises within these spiritual persons,

whether they be speaking or performing spiritual actions, a certain

vigour and bravado, through their having regard to persons who are

present, and before these persons they display a certain kind of vain

gratification. This also arises from luxury of spirit, after the manner

wherein we here understand it, which is accompanied as a rule by

complacency in the will.

7. Some of these persons make friendships of a spiritual kind with

others, which oftentimes arise from luxury and not from spirituality;

this may be known to be the case when the remembrance of that

friendship causes not the remembrance and love of God to grow, but

occasions remorse of conscience. For, when the friendship is purely

spiritual, the love of God grows with it; and the more the soul

remembers it, the more it remembers the love of God, and the greater

the desire it has for God; so that, as the one grows, the other grows

also. For the spirit of God has this property, that it increases good

by adding to it more good, inasmuch as there is likeness and conformity

between them. But, when this love arises from the vice of sensuality

aforementioned, it produces the contrary effects; for the more the one

grows, the more the other decreases, and the remembrance of it

likewise. If that sensual love grows, it will at once be observed that

the soul's love of God is becoming colder, and that it is forgetting

Him as it remembers that love; there comes to it, too, a certain

remorse of conscience. And, on the other hand, if the love of God grows

in the soul, that other love becomes cold and is forgotten; for, as the

two are contrary to one another, not only does the one not aid the

other, but the one which predominates quenches and confounds the other,

and becomes strengthened in itself, as the philosophers say. Wherefore

Our Saviour said in the Gospel: That which is born of the flesh is

flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit.' [38] That is to

say, the love which is born of sensuality ends in sensuality, and that

which is of the spirit ends in the spirit of God and causes it to grow.

This is the difference that exists between these two kinds of love,

whereby we may know them.

8. When the soul enters the dark night, it brings these kinds of love

under control. It strengthens and purifies the one, namely that which

is according to God; and the other it removes and brings to an end; and

in the beginning it causes both to be lost sight of, as we shall say

hereafter.

__________________________________________________________________

[34] [Lit., recreation.']

[35] [Lit., recreation.']

[36] [Lit., of everything.']

[37] All writers who comment upon this delicate matter go into lengthy

and learned explanations of it, though in reality there is little that

needs to be added to the Saint's clear and apt exposition. It will be

remembered that St. Teresa once wrote to her brother Lorenzo, who

suffered in this way: As to those stirrings of sense. . . . I am quite

clear they are of no account, so the best thing is to make no account

of them' (LL. 168). The most effective means of calming souls tormented

by these favours is to commend them to a discreet and wise director

whose counsel they may safely follow. The Illuminists committed the

grossest errors in dealing with this matter.

[38] St. John iii, 6.

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER V

Of the imperfections into which beginners fall with respect to the

sin of wrath.

BY reason of the concupiscence which many beginners have for spiritual

consolations, their experience of these consolations is very commonly

accompanied by many imperfections proceeding from the sin of wrath;

for, when their delight and pleasure in spiritual things come to an

end, they naturally become embittered, and bear that lack of sweetness

which they have to suffer with a bad grace, which affects all that they

do; and they very easily become irritated over the smallest

matter--sometimes, indeed, none can tolerate them. This frequently

happens after they have been very pleasantly recollected in prayer

according to sense; when their pleasure and delight therein come to an

end, their nature is naturally vexed and disappointed, just as is the

child when they take it from the breast of which it was enjoying the

sweetness. There is no sin in this natural vexation, when it is not

permitted to indulge itself, but only imperfection, which must be

purged by the aridity and severity of the dark night.

2. There are other of these spiritual persons, again, who fall into

another kind of spiritual wrath: this happens when they become

irritated at the sins of others, and keep watch on those others with a

sort of uneasy zeal. At times the impulse comes to them to reprove them

angrily, and occasionally they go so far as to indulge it [39] and set

themselves up as masters of virtue. All this is contrary to spiritual

meekness.

3. There are others who are vexed with themselves when they observe

their own imperfectness, and display an impatience that is not

humility; so impatient are they about this that they would fain be

saints in a day. Many of these persons purpose to accomplish a great

deal and make grand resolutions; yet, as they are not humble and have

no misgivings about themselves, the more resolutions they make, the

greater is their fall and the greater their annoyance, since they have

not the patience to wait for that which God will give them when it

pleases Him; this likewise is contrary to the spiritual meekness

aforementioned, which cannot be wholly remedied save by the purgation

of the dark night. Some souls, on the other hand, are so patient as

regards the progress which they desire that God would gladly see them

less so.

__________________________________________________________________

[39] [Lit. they even do it.']

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER VI

Of imperfections with respect to spiritual gluttony.

WITH respect to the fourth sin, which is spiritual gluttony, there is

much to be said, for there is scarce one of these beginners who,

however satisfactory his progress, falls not into some of the many

imperfections which come to these beginners with respect to this sin,

on account of the sweetness which they find at first in spiritual

exercises. For many of these, lured by the sweetness and pleasure which

they find in such exercises, strive more after spiritual sweetness than

after spiritual purity and discretion, which is that which God regards

and accepts throughout the spiritual journey. [40] Therefore, besides

the imperfections into which the seeking for sweetness of this kind

makes them fall, the gluttony which they now have makes them

continually go to extremes, so that they pass beyond the limits of

moderation within which the virtues are acquired and wherein they have

their being. For some of these persons, attracted by the pleasure which

they find therein, kill themselves with penances, and others weaken

themselves with fasts, by performing more than their frailty can bear,

without the order or advice of any, but rather endeavouring to avoid

those whom they should obey in these matters; some, indeed, dare to do

these things even though the contrary has been commanded them.

2. These persons are most imperfect and unreasonable; for they set

bodily penance before subjection and obedience, which is penance

according to reason and discretion, and therefore a sacrifice more

acceptable and pleasing to God than any other. But such one-sided

penance is no more than the penance of beasts, to which they are

attracted, exactly like beasts, by the desire and pleasure which they

find therein. Inasmuch as all extremes are vicious, and as in behaving

thus such persons [41] are working their own will, they grow in vice

rather than in virtue; for, to say the least, they are acquiring

spiritual gluttony and pride in this way, through not walking in

obedience. And many of these the devil assails, stirring up this

gluttony in them through the pleasures and desires which he increases

within them, to such an extent that, since they can no longer help

themselves, they either change or vary or add to that which is

commanded them, as any obedience in this respect is so bitter to them.

To such an evil pass have some persons come that, simply because it is

through obedience that they engage in these exercises, they lose the

desire and devotion to perform them, their only desire and pleasure

being to do what they themselves are inclined to do, so that it would

probably be more profitable for them not to engage in these exercises

at all.

3. You will find that many of these persons are very insistent with

their spiritual masters to be granted that which they desire,

extracting it from them almost by force; if they be refused it they

become as peevish as children and go about in great displeasure,

thinking that they are not serving God when they are not allowed to do

that which they would. For they go about clinging to their own will and

pleasure, which they treat as though it came from God; [42] and

immediately their directors [43] take it from them, and try to subject

them to the will of God, they become peevish, grow faint-hearted and

fall away. These persons think that their own satisfaction and pleasure

are the satisfaction and service of God.

4. There are others, again, who, because of this gluttony, know so

little of their own unworthiness and misery and have thrust so far from

them the loving fear and reverence which they owe to the greatness of

God, that they hesitate not to insist continually that their confessors

shall allow them to communicate often. And, what is worse, they

frequently dare to communicate without the leave and consent [44] of

the minister and steward of Christ, merely acting on their own opinion,

and contriving to conceal the truth from him. And for this reason,

because they desire to communicate continually, they make their

confessions carelessly, [45] being more eager to eat than to eat

cleanly and perfectly, although it would be healthier and holier for

them had they the contrary inclination and begged their confessors not

to command them to approach the altar so frequently: between these two

extremes, however, the better way is that of humble resignation. But

the boldness referred to is [46] a thing that does great harm, and men

may fear to be punished for such temerity.

5. These persons, in communicating, strive with every nerve to obtain

some kind of sensible sweetness and pleasure, instead of humbly doing

reverence and giving praise within themselves to God. And in such wise

do they devote themselves to this that, when they have received no

pleasure or sweetness in the senses, they think that they have

accomplished nothing at all. This is to judge God very unworthily; they

have not realized that the least of the benefits which come from this

Most Holy Sacrament is that which concerns the senses; and that the

invisible part of the grace that it bestows is much greater; for, in

order that they may look at it with the eyes of faith, God oftentimes

withholds from them these other consolations and sweetnesses of sense.

And thus they desire to feel and taste God as though He were

comprehensible by them and accessible to them, not only in this, but

likewise in other spiritual practices. All this is very great

imperfection and completely opposed to the nature of God, since it is

Impurity in faith.

6. These persons have the same defect as regards the practice of

prayer, for they think that all the business of prayer consists in

experiencing sensible pleasure and devotion and they strive to obtain

this by great effort, [47] wearying and fatiguing their faculties and

their heads; and when they have not found this pleasure they become

greatly discouraged, thinking that they have accomplished nothing.

Through these efforts they lose true devotion and spirituality, which

consist in perseverance, together with patience and humility and

mistrust of themselves, that they may please God alone. For this

reason, when they have once failed to find pleasure in this or some

other exercise, they have great disinclination and repugnance to return

to it, and at times they abandon it. They are, in fact, as we have

said, like children, who are not influenced by reason, and who act, not

from rational motives, but from inclination. [48] Such persons expend

all their effort in seeking spiritual pleasure and consolation; they

never tire therefore, of reading books; and they begin, now one

meditation, now another, in their pursuit of this pleasure which they

desire to experience in the things of God. But God, very justly, wisely

and lovingly, denies it to them, for otherwise this spiritual gluttony

and inordinate appetite would breed innumerable evils. It is,

therefore, very fitting that they should enter into the dark night,

whereof we shall speak, [49] that they may be purged from this

childishness.

7. These persons who are thus inclined to such pleasures have another

very great imperfection, which is that they are very weak and remiss in

journeying upon the hard [50] road of the Cross; for the soul that is

given to sweetness naturally has its face set against all self-denial,

which is devoid of sweetness. [51]

8. These persons have many other imperfections which arise hence, of

which in time the Lord heals them by means of temptations, aridities

and other trials, all of which are part of the dark night. All these I

will not treat further here, lest I become too lengthy; I will only say

that spiritual temperance and sobriety lead to another and a very

different temper, which is that of mortification, fear and submission

in all things. It thus becomes clear that the perfection and worth of

things consist not in the multitude and the pleasantness of one's

actions, but in being able to deny oneself in them; this such persons

must endeavour to compass, in so far as they may, until God is pleased

to purify them indeed, by bringing them [52] into the dark night, to

arrive at which I am hastening on with my account of these

imperfections.

__________________________________________________________________

[40] [Lit., spiritual road.']

[41] [Lit., these persons.']

[42] [Lit., and treat this as their God.']

[43] [The Spanish is impersonal: immediately this is taken from them,'

etc.]

[44] [Lit., and opinion.']

[45] [Lit., anyhow.']

[46] [Lit, the other boldnesses are.']

[47] [Lit., they strive to obtain this, as they say, by the strength of

their arms.' The phrase is, of course, understood in the Spanish to be

metaphorical, as the words as they say' clearly indicate.]

[48] [Lit., who are not influenced, neither act by reason, but from

pleasure.']

[49] [Lit., which we shall give.']

[50] [Aspero: harsh, rough, rugged.]

[51] [Lit., against all the sweetlessness of self- denial.']

[52] [Lit., causing them to enter.']

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER VII

Of imperfections with respect to spiritual envy and sloth.

WITH respect likewise to the other two vices, which are spiritual envy

and sloth, these beginners fail not to have many imperfections. For,

with respect to envy, many of them are wont to experience movements of

displeasure at the spiritual good of others, which cause them a certain

sensible grief at being outstripped upon this road, so that they would

prefer not to hear others praised; for they become displeased at

others' virtues and sometimes they cannot refrain from contradicting

what is said in praise of them, depreciating it as far as they can; and

their annoyance thereat grows [53] because the same is not said of

them, for they would fain be preferred in everything. All this is clean

contrary to charity, which, as Saint Paul says, rejoices in goodness.

[54] And, if charity has any envy, it is a holy envy, comprising grief

at not having the virtues of others, yet also joy because others have

them, and delight when others outstrip us in the service of God,

wherein we ourselves are so remiss.

2. With respect also to spiritual sloth, beginners are apt to be irked

by the things that are most spiritual, from which they flee because

these things are incompatible with sensible pleasure. For, as they are

so much accustomed to sweetness in spiritual things, they are wearied

by things in which they find no sweetness. If once they failed to find

in prayer the satisfaction which their taste required (and after all it

is well that God should take it from them to prove them), they would

prefer not to return to it: sometimes they leave it; at other times

they continue it unwillingly. And thus because of this sloth they

abandon the way of perfection (which is the way of the negation of

their will and pleasure for God's sake) for the pleasure and sweetness

of their own will, which they aim at satisfying in this way rather than

the will of God.

3. And many of these would have God will that which they themselves

will, and are fretful at having to will that which He wills, and find

it repugnant to accommodate their will to that of God. Hence it happens

to them that oftentimes they think that that wherein they find not

their own will and pleasure is not the will of God; and that, on the

other hand, when they themselves find satisfaction, God is satisfied.

Thus they measure God by themselves and not themselves by God, acting

quite contrarily to that which He Himself taught in the Gospel, saying:

That he who should lose his will for His sake, the same should gain it;

and he who should desire to gain it, the same should lose it. [55]

4. These persons likewise find it irksome when they are commanded to do

that wherein they take no pleasure. Because they aim at spiritual

sweetness and consolation, they are too weak to have the fortitude and

bear the trials of perfection. [56] They resemble those who are softly

nurtured and who run fretfully away from everything that is hard, and

take offense at the Cross, wherein consist the delights of the spirit.

The more spiritual a thing is, the more irksome they find it, for, as

they seek to go about spiritual matters with complete freedom and

according to the inclination of their will, it causes them great sorrow

and repugnance to enter upon the narrow way, which, says Christ, is the

way of life. [57]

5. Let it suffice here to have described these imperfections, among the

many to be found in the lives of those that are in this first state of

beginners, so that it may be seen how greatly they need God to set them

in the state of proficients. This He does by bringing them into the

dark night whereof we now speak; wherein He weans them from the breasts

of these sweetnesses and pleasures, gives them pure aridities and

inward darkness, takes from them all these irrelevances and

puerilities, and by very different means causes them to win the

virtues. For, however assiduously the beginner practises the

mortification in himself of all these actions and passions of his, he

can never completely succeed--very far from it--until God shall work it

in him passively by means of the purgation of the said night. Of this I

would fain speak in some way that may be profitable; may God, then, be

pleased to give me His Divine light, because this is very needful in a

night that is so dark and a matter that is so difficult to describe and

to expound.

The line, then, is:

In a dark night.

__________________________________________________________________

[53] [Lit., and, as they say, their eye (el ojo) grows'--a colloquial

phrase expressing annoyance.]

[54] 1 Corinthians xiii, 6. The Saint here cites the sense, not the

letter, of the epistle.

[55] St. Matthew xvi, 25.

[56] [Lit., they are very weak for the fortitude and trial of

perfection.']

[57] St. Matthew vii, 14.

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER VIII

Wherein is expounded the first line of the first stanza, and a

beginning is made of the explanation of this dark night.

THIS night, which, as we say, is contemplation, produces in spiritual

persons two kinds of darkness or purgation, corresponding to the two

parts of man's nature--namely, the sensual and the spiritual. And thus

the one night or purgation will be sensual, wherein the soul is purged

according to sense, which is subdued to the spirit; and the other is a

night or purgation which is spiritual, wherein the soul is purged and

stripped according to the spirit, and subdued and made ready for the

union of love with God. The night of sense is common and comes to many:

these are the beginners; and of this night we shall speak first. The

night of the spirit is the portion of very few, and these are they that

are already practised and proficient, of whom we shall treat hereafter.

2. The first purgation or night is bitter and terrible to sense, as we

shall now show. [58] The second bears no comparison with it, for it is

horrible and awful to the spirit, as we shall show [59] presently.

Since the night of sense is first in order and comes first, we shall

first of all say something about it briefly, since more is written of

it, as of a thing that is more common; and we shall pass on to treat

more fully of the spiritual night, since very little has been said of

this, either in speech [60] or in writing, and very little is known of

it, even by experience.

3. Since, then, the conduct of these beginners upon the way of God is

ignoble, [61] and has much to do with their love of self and their own

inclinations, as has been explained above, God desires to lead them

farther. He seeks to bring them out of that ignoble kind of love to a

higher degree of love for Him, to free them from the ignoble exercises

of sense and meditation (wherewith, as we have said, they go seeking

God so unworthily and in so many ways that are unbefitting), and to

lead them to a kind of spiritual exercise wherein they can commune with

Him more abundantly and are freed more completely from imperfections.

For they have now had practice for some time in the way of virtue and

have persevered in meditation and prayer, whereby, through the

sweetness and pleasure that they have found therein, they have lost

their love of the things of the world and have gained some degree of

spiritual strength in God; this has enabled them to some extent to

refrain from creature desires, so that for God's sake they are now able

to suffer a light burden and a little aridity without turning back to a

time [62] which they found more pleasant. When they are going about

these spiritual exercises with the greatest delight and pleasure, and

when they believe that the sun of Divine favour is shining most

brightly upon them, God turns all this light of theirs into darkness,

and shuts against them the door and the source of the sweet spiritual

water which they were tasting in God whensoever and for as long as they

desired. (For, as they were weak and tender, there was no door closed

to them, as Saint John says in the Apocalypse, iii, 8). And thus He

leaves them so completely in the dark that they know not whither to go

with their sensible imagination and meditation; for they cannot advance

a step in meditation, as they were wont to do afore time, their inward

senses being submerged in this night, and left with such dryness that

not only do they experience no pleasure and consolation in the

spiritual things and good exercises wherein they were wont to find

their delights and pleasures, but instead, on the contrary, they find

insipidity and bitterness in the said things. For, as I have said, God

now sees that they have grown a little, and are becoming strong enough

to lay aside their swaddling clothes and be taken from the gentle

breast; so He sets them down from His arms and teaches them to walk on

their own feet; which they feel to be very strange, for everything

seems to be going wrong with them.

4. To recollected persons this commonly happens sooner after their

beginnings than to others, inasmuch as they are freer from occasions of

backsliding, and their desires turn more quickly from the things of the

world, which is necessary if they are to begin to enter this blessed

night of sense. Ordinarily no great time passes after their beginnings

before they begin to enter this night of sense; and the great majority

of them do in fact enter it, for they will generally be seen to fall

into these aridities.

5. With regard to this way of purgation of the senses, since it is so

common, we might here adduce a great number of quotations from Divine

Scripture, where many passages relating to it are continually found,

particularly in the Psalms and the Prophets. However, I do not wish to

spend time upon these, for he who knows not how to look for them there

will find the common experience of this purgation to be sufficient.

__________________________________________________________________

[58] [Lit., 'say.']

[59] [Lit., 'say.']

[60] [platica: the word is frequently used in Spanish to denote an

informal sermon or address.]

[61] [Lit., low'; the same word recurs below and is similarly

translated.]

[62] [Lit., to the better time.']

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER IX

Of the signs by which it will be known that the spiritual person is

walking along the way of this night and purgation of sense.

BUT since these aridities might frequently proceed, not from the night

and purgation of the sensual desires aforementioned, but from sins and

imperfections, or from weakness and lukewarmness, or from some bad

humour or indisposition of the body, I shall here set down certain

signs by which it may be known if such aridity proceeds from the

aforementioned purgation, or if it arises from any of the

aforementioned sins. For the making of this distinction I find that

there are three principal signs.

2. The first is whether, when a soul finds no pleasure or consolation

in the things of God, it also fails to find it in any thing created;

for, as God sets the soul in this dark night to the end that He may

quench and purge its sensual desire, He allows it not to find

attraction or sweetness in anything whatsoever. In such a case it may

be considered very probable [63] that this aridity and insipidity

proceed not from recently committed sins or imperfections. For, if this

were so, the soul would feel in its nature some inclination or desire

to taste other things than those of God; since, whenever the desire is

allowed indulgence in any imperfection, it immediately feels inclined

thereto, whether little or much, in proportion to the pleasure and the

love that it has put into it. Since, however, this lack of enjoyment in

things above or below might proceed from some indisposition or

melancholy humour, which oftentimes makes it impossible for the soul to

take pleasure in anything, it becomes necessary to apply the second

sign and condition.

3. The second sign whereby a man may believe himself to be experiencing

the said purgation is that the memory is ordinarily centred upon God,

with painful care and solicitude, thinking that it is not serving God,

but is backsliding, because it finds itself without sweetness in the

things of God. And in such a case it is evident that this lack of

sweetness and this aridity come not from weakness and lukewarmness; for

it is the nature of lukewarmness not to care greatly or to have any

inward solicitude for the things of God. There is thus a great

difference between aridity and lukewarmness, for lukewarmness consists

in great weakness and remissness in the will and in the spirit, without

solicitude as to serving God; whereas purgative aridity is ordinarily

accompanied by solicitude, with care and grief as I say, because the

soul is not serving God. And, although this may sometimes be increased

by melancholy or some other humour (as it frequently is), it fails not

for that reason to produce a purgative effect upon the desire, since

the desire is deprived of all pleasure and has its care centred upon

God alone. For, when mere humour is the cause, it spends itself in

displeasure and ruin of the physical nature, and there are none of

those desires to sense God which belong to purgative aridity. When the

cause is aridity, it is true that the sensual part of the soul has

fallen low, and is weak and feeble in its actions, by reason of the

little pleasure which it finds in them; but the spirit, on the other

hand, is ready and strong.

4. For the cause of this aridity is that God transfers to the spirit

the good things and the strength of the senses, which, since the soul's

natural strength and senses are incapable of using them, remain barren,

dry and empty. For the sensual part of a man has no capacity for that

which is pure spirit, and thus, when it is the spirit that receives the

pleasure, the flesh is left without savour and is too weak to perform

any action. But the spirit, which all the time is being fed, goes

forward in strength, and with more alertness and solicitude than

before, in its anxiety not to fail God; and if it is not immediately

conscious of spiritual sweetness and delight, but only of aridity and

lack of sweetness, the reason for this is the strangeness of the

exchange; for its palate has been accustomed to those other sensual

pleasures upon which its eyes are still fixed, and, since the spiritual

palate is not made ready or purged for such subtle pleasure, until it

finds itself becoming prepared for it by means of this arid and dark

night, it cannot experience spiritual pleasure and good, but only

aridity and lack of sweetness, since it misses the pleasure which

aforetime it enjoyed so readily.

5. These souls whom God is beginning to lead through these solitary

places of the wilderness are like to the children of Israel, to whom in

the wilderness God began to give food from Heaven, containing within

itself all sweetness, and, as is there said, it turned to the savour

which each one of them desired. But withal the children of Israel felt

the lack of the pleasures and delights of the flesh and the onions

which they had eaten aforetime in Egypt, the more so because their

palate was accustomed to these and took delight in them, rather than in

the delicate sweetness of the angelic manna; and they wept and sighed

for the fleshpots even in the midst of the food of Heaven. [64] To such

depths does the vileness of our desires descend that it makes us to

long for our own wretched food [65] and to be nauseated by the

indescribable [66] blessings of Heaven.

6. But, as I say, when these aridities proceed from the way of the

purgation of sensual desire, although at first the spirit feels no

sweetness, for the reasons that we have just given, it feels that it is

deriving strength and energy to act from the substance which this

inward food gives it, the which food is the beginning of a

contemplation that is dark and arid to the senses; which contemplation

is secret and hidden from the very person that experiences it; and

ordinarily, together with the aridity and emptiness which it causes in

the senses, it gives the soul an inclination and desire to be alone and

in quietness, without being able to think of any particular thing or

having the desire to do so. If those souls to whom this comes to pass

knew how to be quiet at this time, and troubled not about performing

any kind of action, whether inward or outward, neither had any anxiety

about doing anything, then they would delicately experience this inward

refreshment in that ease and freedom from care. So delicate is this

refreshment that ordinarily, if a man have desire or care to experience

it, he experiences it not; for, as I say, it does its work when the

soul is most at ease and freest from care; it is like the air which, if

one would close one's hand upon it, escapes.

7. In this sense we may understand that which the Spouse said to the

Bride in the Songs, namely: Withdraw thine eyes from me, for they make

me to soar aloft.' [67] For in such a way does God bring the soul into

this state, and by so different a path does He lead it that, if it

desires to work with its faculties, it hinders the work which God is

doing in it rather than aids it; whereas aforetime it was quite the

contrary. The reason is that, in this state of contemplation, which the

soul enters when it forsakes meditation for the state of the

proficient, it is God Who is now working in the soul; He binds its

interior faculties, and allows it not to cling to the understanding,

nor to have delight in the will, nor to reason with the memory. For

anything that the soul can do of its own accord at this time serves

only, as we have said, to hinder inward peace and the work which God is

accomplishing in the spirit by means of that aridity of sense. And this

peace, being spiritual and delicate, performs a work which is quiet and

delicate, solitary, productive of peace and satisfaction [68] and far

removed from all those earlier pleasures, which were very palpable and

sensual. This is the peace which, says David, God speaks in the soul to

the end that He may make it spiritual. [69] And this leads us to the

third point.

8. The third sign whereby this purgation of sense may be recognized is

that the soul can no longer meditate or reflect in the imaginative

sphere of sense as it was wont, however much it may of itself endeavour

to do so. For God now begins to communicate Himself to it, no longer

through sense, as He did aforetime, by means of reflections which

joined and sundered its knowledge, but by pure spirit, into which

consecutive reflections enter not; but He communicates Himself to it by

an act of simple contemplation, to which neither the exterior nor the

interior senses of the lower part of the soul can attain. From this

time forward, therefore, imagination and fancy can find no support in

any meditation, and can gain no foothold by means thereof.

9. With regard to this third sign, it is to be understood that this

embarrassment and dissatisfaction of the faculties proceed not from

indisposition, for, when this is the case, and the indisposition, which

never lasts for long, [70] comes to an end, the soul is able once

again, by taking some trouble about the matter, to do what it did

before, and the faculties find their wonted support. But in the

purgation of the desire this is not so: when once the soul begins to

enter therein, its inability to reflect with the faculties grows ever

greater. For, although it is true that at first, and with some persons,

the process is not as continuous as this, so that occasionally they

fail to abandon their pleasures and reflections of sense (for perchance

by reason of their weakness it was not fitting to wean them from these

immediately), yet this inability grows within them more and more and

brings the workings of sense to an end, if indeed they are to make

progress, for those who walk not in the way of contemplation act very

differently. For this night of aridities is not usually continuous in

their senses. At times they have these aridities; at others they have

them not. At times they cannot meditate; at others they can. For God

sets them in this night only to prove them and to humble them, and to

reform their desires, so that they go not nurturing in themselves a

sinful gluttony in spiritual things. He sets them not there in order to

lead them in the way of the spirit, which is this contemplation; for

not all those who walk of set purpose in the way of the spirit are

brought by God to contemplation, nor even the half of them--why, He

best knows. And this is why He never completely weans the senses of

such persons from the breasts of meditations and reflections, but only

for short periods and at certain seasons, as we have said.

__________________________________________________________________

[63] [Lit., And in this it is known very probably.']

[64] Numbers xi, 5-6.

[65] [Lit., makes us to desire our miseries.']

[66] [Lit., incommunicable.']

[67] Canticles vi, 4 [A.V., vi, 5].

[68] [Lit., 'satisfactory and pacific.']

[69] Psalm lxxxiv, 9 [A.V., lxxxv, 8].

[70] [The stress here is evidently on the transience of the distempers

whether they be moral or physical.]

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER X

Of the way in which these souls are to conduct themselves in this

dark night.

DURING the time, then, of the aridities of this night of sense (wherein

God effects the change of which we have spoken above, drawing forth the

soul from the life of sense into that of the spirit--that is, from

meditation to contemplation--wherein it no longer has any power to work

or to reason with its faculties concerning the things of God, as has

been said), spiritual persons suffer great trials, by reason not so

much of the aridities which they suffer, as of the fear which they have

of being lost on the road, thinking that all spiritual blessing is over

for them and that God has abandoned them since they find no help or

pleasure in good things. Then they grow weary, and endeavour (as they

have been accustomed to do) to concentrate their faculties with some

degree of pleasure upon some object of meditation, thinking that, when

they are not doing this and yet are conscious of making an effort, they

are doing nothing. This effort they make not without great inward

repugnance and unwillingness on the part of their soul, which was

taking pleasure in being in that quietness and ease, instead of working

with its faculties. So they have abandoned the one pursuit, [71] yet

draw no profit from the other; for, by seeking what is prompted by

their own spirit, [72] they lose the spirit of tranquillity and peace

which they had before. And thus they are like to one who abandons what

he has done in order to do it over again, or to one who leaves a city

only to re-enter it, or to one who is hunting and lets his prey go in

order to hunt it once more. This is useless here, for the soul will

gain nothing further by conducting itself in this way, as has been

said.

2. These souls turn back at such a time if there is none who

understands them; they abandon the road or lose courage; or, at the

least, they are hindered from going farther by the great trouble which

they take in advancing along the road of meditation and reasoning. Thus

they fatigue and overwork their nature, imagining that they are failing

through negligence or sin. But this trouble that they are taking is

quite useless, for God is now leading them by another road, which is

that of contemplation, and is very different from the first; for the

one is of meditation and reasoning, and the other belongs neither to

imagination nor yet to reasoning.

3. It is well for those who find themselves in this condition to take

comfort, to persevere in patience and to be in no wise afflicted. Let

them trust in God, Who abandons not those that seek Him with a simple

and right heart, and will not fail to give them what is needful for the

road, until He bring them into the clear and pure light of love. This

last He will give them by means of that other dark night, that of the

spirit, if they merit His bringing them thereto.

4. The way in which they are to conduct themselves in this night of

sense is to devote themselves not at all to reasoning and meditation,

since this is not the time for it, but to allow the soul to remain in

peace and quietness, although it may seem clear to them that they are

doing nothing and are wasting their time, and although it may appear to

them that it is because of their weakness that they have no desire in

that state to think of anything. The truth is that they will be doing

quite sufficient if they have patience and persevere in prayer without

making any effort. [73] What they must do is merely to leave the soul

free and disencumbered and at rest from all knowledge and thought,

troubling not themselves, in that state, about what they shall think or

meditate upon, but contenting themselves with merely a peaceful and

loving attentiveness toward God, and in being without anxiety, without

the ability and without desired to have experience of Him or to

perceive Him. For all these yearnings disquiet and distract the soul

from the peaceful quiet and sweet ease of contemplation which is here

granted to it.

5. And although further scruples may come to them--that they are

wasting their time, and that it would be well for them to do something

else, because they can neither do nor think anything in prayer--let

them suffer these scruples and remain in peace, as there is no question

save of their being at ease and having freedom of spirit. For if such a

soul should desire to make any effort of its own with its interior

faculties, this means that it will hinder and lose the blessings which,

by means of that peace and ease of the soul, God is instilling into it

and impressing upon it. It is just as if some painter were painting or

dyeing a face; if the sitter were to move because he desired to do

something, he would prevent the painter from accomplishing anything and

would disturb him in what he was doing. And thus, when the soul desires

to remain in inward ease and peace, any operation and affection or

attentions wherein it may then seek to indulge [74] will distract it

and disquiet it and make it conscious of aridity and emptiness of

sense. For the more a soul endeavours to find support in affection and

knowledge, the more will it feel the lack of these, which cannot now be

supplied to it upon that road.

6. Wherefore it behoves such a soul to pay no heed if the operations of

its faculties become lost to it; it is rather to desire that this

should happen quickly. For, by not hindering the operation of infused

contemplation that God is bestowing upon it, it can receive this with

more peaceful abundance, and cause its spirit to be enkindled and to

burn with the love which this dark and secret contemplation brings with

it and sets firmly in the soul. For contemplation is naught else than a

secret, peaceful and loving infusion from God, which, if it be

permitted, enkindles the soul with the spirit of love, according as the

soul declares in the next lines, namely:

Kindled in love with yearnings.

__________________________________________________________________

[71] [Lit., spoiling themselves in the one.']

[72] [Lit., because they seek their spirit.']

[73] [Lit., without doing anything themselves.']

[74] [Lit., which it may then wish to have.']

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XI

Wherein are expounded the three lines of the stanza.

THIS enkindling of love is not as a rule felt at the first, because it

has not begun to take hold upon the soul, by reason of the impurity of

human nature, or because the soul has not understood its own state, as

we have said, and has therefore given it no peaceful abiding-place

within itself. Yet sometimes, nevertheless, there soon begins to make

itself felt a certain yearning toward God; and the more this increases,

the more is the soul affectioned and enkindled in love toward God,

without knowing or understanding how and whence this love and affection

come to it, but from time to time seeing this flame and this enkindling

grow so greatly within it that it desires God with yearning of love;

even as David, when he was in this dark night, said of himself in these

words, [75] namely: Because my heart was enkindled (that is to say, in

love of contemplation), my reins also were changed': that is, my

desires for sensual affections were changed, namely from the way of

sense to the way of the spirit, which is the aridity and cessation from

all these things whereof we are speaking. And I, he says, was dissolved

in nothing and annihilated, and I knew not; for, as we have said,

without knowing the way whereby it goes, the soul finds itself

annihilated with respect to all things above and below which were

accustomed to please it; and it finds itself enamoured, without knowing

how. And because at times the enkindling of love in the spirit grows

greater, the yearnings for God become so great in the soul that the

very bones seem to be dried up by this thirst, and the natural powers

to be fading away, and their warmth and strength to be perishing

through the intensity [76] of the thirst of love, for the soul feels

that this thirst of love is a living thirst. This thirst David had and

felt, when he said: My soul thirsted for the living God.' [77] Which is

as much as to say: A living thirst was that of my soul. Of this thirst,

since it is living, we may say that it kills. But it is to be noted

that the vehemence of this thirst is not continuous, but occasional

although as a rule the soul is accustomed to feel it to a certain

degree.

2. But it must be noted that, as I began to say just now, this love is

not as a rule felt at first, but only the dryness and emptiness are

felt whereof we are speaking. Then in place of this love which

afterwards becomes gradually enkindled, what the soul experiences in

the midst of these aridities and emptinesses of the faculties is an

habitual care and solicitude with respect to God, together with grief

and fear that it is not serving Him. But it is a sacrifice which is not

a little pleasing to God that the soul should go about afflicted and

solicitous for His love. This solicitude and care leads the soul into

that secret contemplation, until, the senses (that is, the sensual

part) having in course of time been in some degree purged of the

natural affections and powers by means of the aridities which it causes

within them, this Divine love begins to be enkindled in the spirit.

Meanwhile, however, like one who has begun a cure, the soul knows only

suffering in this dark and arid purgation of the desire; by this means

it becomes healed of many imperfections, and exercises itself in many

virtues in order to make itself meet for the said love, as we shall now

say with respect to the line following:

Oh, happy chance!

3. When God leads the soul into this night of sense in order to purge

the sense of its lower part and to subdue it, unite it and bring it

into conformity with the spirit, by setting it in darkness and causing

it to cease from meditation (as He afterwards does in order to purify

the spirit to unite it with God, as we shall afterwards say), He brings

it into the night of the spirit, and (although it appears not so to it)

the soul gains so many benefits that it holds it to be a happy chance

to have escaped from the bonds and restrictions of the senses of or its

lower self, by means of this night aforesaid; and utters the present

line, namely: Oh, happy chance! With respect to this, it behoves us

here to note the benefits which the soul finds in this night, and

because of which it considers it a happy chance to have passed through

it; all of which benefits the soul includes in the next line, namely:

I went forth without being observed.

4. This going forth is understood of the subjection to its sensual part

which the soul suffered when it sought God through operations so weak,

so limited and so defective as are those of this lower part; for at

every step it stumbled into numerous imperfections and ignorances, as

we have noted above in writing of the seven capital sins. From all

these it is freed when this night quenches within it all pleasures,

whether from above or from below, and makes all meditation darkness to

it, and grants it other innumerable blessings in the acquirement of the

virtues, as we shall now show. For it will be a matter of great

pleasure and great consolation, to one that journeys on this road, to

see how that which seems to the soul so severe and adverse, and so

contrary to spiritual pleasure, works in it so many blessings. These,

as we say, are gained when the soul goes forth, as regards its

affection and operation, by means of this night, from all created

things, and when it journeys to eternal things, which is great

happiness and good fortune: [78] first, because of the great blessing

which is in the quenching of the desire and affection with respect to

all things; secondly, because they are very few that endure and

persevere in entering by this strait gate and by the narrow way which

leads to life, as says Our Saviour. [79] The strait gate is this night

of sense, and the soul detaches itself from sense and strips itself

thereof that it may enter by this gate, and establishes itself in

faith, which is a stranger to all sense, so that afterwards it may

journey by the narrow way, which is the other night--that of the

spirit--and this the soul afterwards enters in order in journey to God

in pure faith, which is the means whereby the soul is united to God. By

this road, since it is so narrow, dark and terrible (though there is no

comparison between this night of sense and that other, in its darkness

and trials, as we shall say later), they are far fewer that journey,

but its benefits are far greater without comparison than those of this

present night. Of these benefits we shall now begin to say something,

with such brevity as is possible, in order that we may pass to the

other night.

__________________________________________________________________

[75] Psalm lxxii, 21 [A.V., lxxiii, 21-2].

[76] [Lit., livingness': cf. the quotation below.]

[77] Psalm xli, 3 [A.V., xlii, 2].

[78] [Lit., and chance': the same word as in the verse-line above.]

[79] St. Matthew vii, 14.

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XII

Of the benefits which this night causes in the soul.

THIS night and purgation of the desire, a happy one for the soul, works

in it so many blessings and benefits (although to the soul, as we have

said, it rather seems that blessings are being taken away from it)

that, even as Abraham made a great feast when he weaned his son Isaac,

[80] even so is there joy in Heaven because God is now taking this soul

from its swaddling clothes, setting it down from His arms, making it to

walk upon its feet, and likewise taking from it the milk of the breast

and the soft and sweet food proper to children, and making it to eat

bread with crust, and to begin to enjoy the food of robust persons.

This food, in these aridities and this darkness of sense, is now given

to the spirit, which is dry and emptied of all the sweetness of sense.

And this food is the infused contemplation whereof we have spoken.

2. This is the first and principal benefit caused by this arid and dark

night of contemplation: the knowledge of oneself and of one's misery.

For, besides the fact that all the favours which God grants to the soul

are habitually granted to them enwrapped in this knowledge, these

aridities and this emptiness of the faculties, compared with the

abundance which the soul experienced aforetime and the difficulty which

it finds in good works, make it recognize its own lowliness and misery,

which in the time of its prosperity it was unable to see. Of this there

is a good illustration in the Book of Exodus, where God, wishing to

humble the children of Israel and desiring that they should know

themselves, commanded them to take away and strip off the festal

garments and adornments wherewith they were accustomed to adorn

themselves in the Wilderness, saying: Now from henceforth strip

yourselves of festal ornaments and put on everyday working dress, that

ye may know what treatment ye deserve.' [81] This is as though He had

said: Inasmuch as the attire that ye wear, being proper to festival and

rejoicing, causes you to feel less humble concerning yourselves than ye

should, put off from you this attire, in order that henceforth, seeing

yourselves clothed with vileness, ye may know that ye merit no more,

and may know who ye are. Wherefore the soul knows the truth that it

knew not at first, concerning its own misery; for, at the time when it

was clad as for a festival and found in God much pleasure, consolation

and support, it was somewhat more satisfied and contented, since it

thought itself to some extent to be serving God. It is true that such

souls may not have this idea explicitly in their minds; but some

suggestion of it at least is implanted in them by the satisfaction

which they find in their pleasant experiences. But, now that the soul

has put on its other and working attire--that of aridity and

abandonment--and now that its first lights have turned into darkness,

it possesses these lights more truly in this virtue of self-knowledge,

which is so excellent and so necessary, considering itself now as

nothing and experiencing no satisfaction in itself; for it sees that it

does nothing of itself neither can do anything. And the smallness of

this self-satisfaction, together with the soul's affliction at not

serving God, is considered and esteemed by God as greater than all the

consolations which the soul formerly experienced and the works which it

wrought, however great they were, inasmuch as they were the occasion of

many imperfections and ignorances. And from this attire of aridity

proceed, as from their fount and source of self-knowledge, not only the

things which we have described already, but also the benefits which we

shall now describe and many more which will have to be omitted.

3. In the first place, the soul learns to commune with God with more

respect and more courtesy, such as a soul must ever observe in converse

with the Most High. These it knew not in its prosperous times of

comfort and consolation, for that comforting favour which it

experienced made its craving for God somewhat bolder than was fitting,

and discourteous and ill-considered. Even so did it happen to Moses,

when he perceived that God was speaking to him; blinded by that

pleasure and desire, without further consideration, he would have made

bold to go to Him if God had not commanded him to stay and put off his

shoes. By this incident we are shown the respect and discretion in

detachment of desire wherewith a man is to commune with God. When Moses

had obeyed in this matter, he became so discreet and so attentive that

the Scripture says that not only did he not make bold to draw near to

God, but that he dared not even look at Him. For, having taken off the

shoes of his desires and pleasures, he became very conscious of his

wretchedness in the sight of God, as befitted one about to hear the

word of God. Even so likewise the preparation which God granted to Job

in order that he might speak with Him consisted not in those delights

and glories which Job himself reports that he was wont to have in his

God, but in leaving him naked upon a dung-hill, [82] abandoned and even

persecuted by his friends, filled with anguish and bitterness, and the

earth covered with worms. And then the Most High God, He that lifts up

the poor man from the dunghill, was pleased to come down and speak with

him there face to face, revealing to him the depths and heights [83] of

His wisdom, in a way that He had never done in the time of his

prosperity.

4. And here we must note another excellent benefit which there is in

this night and aridity of the desire of sense, since we have had

occasion to speak of it. It is that, in this dark night of the desire

(to the end that the words of the Prophet may be fulfilled, namely: Thy

light shall shine in the darkness' [84] ), God will enlighten the soul,

giving it knowledge, not only of its lowliness and wretchedness, as we

have said, but likewise of the greatness and excellence of God. For, as

well as quenching the desires and pleasures and attachments of sense,

He cleanses and frees the understanding that it may understand the

truth; for pleasure of sense and desire, even though it be for

spiritual things, darkens and obstructs the spirit, and furthermore

that straitness and aridity of sense enlightens and quickens the

understanding, as says Isaias. [85] Vexation makes us to understand how

the soul that is empty and disencumbered, as is necessary for His

Divine influence, is instructed supernaturally by God in His Divine

wisdom, through this dark and arid night of contemplation, [86] as we

have said; and this instruction God gave not in those first sweetnesses

and joys.

5. This is very well explained by the same prophet Isaias, where he

says: Whom shall God teach His knowledge, and whom shall He make to

understand the hearing?' To those, He says, that are weaned from the

milk and drawn away from the breasts. [87] Here it is shown that the

first milk of spiritual sweetness is no preparation for this Divine

influence, neither is there preparation in attachment to the breast of

delectable meditations, belonging to the faculties of sense, which gave

the soul pleasure; such preparation consists rather in the lack of the

one and withdrawal from the other. Inasmuch as, in order to listen to

God, the soul needs to stand upright and to be detached, with regard to

affection and sense, even as the Prophet says concerning himself, in

these words: I will stand upon my watch (this is that detachment of

desire) and I will make firm my step (that is, I will not meditate with

sense), in order to contemplate (that is, in order to understand that

which may come to me from God). [88] So we have now arrived at this,

that from this arid night there first of all comes self-knowledge,

whence, as from a foundation, rises this other knowledge of God. For

which cause Saint Augustine said to God: Let me know myself, Lord, and

I shall know Thee.' [89] For, as the philosophers say, one extreme can

be well known by another.

6. And in order to prove more completely how efficacious is this night

of sense, with its aridity and its desolation, in bringing the soul

that light which, as we say, it receives there from God, we shall quote

that passage of David, wherein he clearly describes the great power

which is in this night for bringing the soul this lofty knowledge of

God. He says, then, thus: In the desert land, waterless, dry and

pathless, I appeared before Thee, that I might see Thy virtue and Thy

glory.' [90] It is a wondrous thing that David should say here that the

means and the preparation for his knowledge of the glory of God were

not the spiritual delights and the many pleasures which he had

experienced, but the aridities and detachments of his sensual nature,

which is here to be understood by the dry and desert land. No less

wondrous is it that he should describe as the road to his perception

and vision of the virtue of God, not the Divine meditations and

conceptions of which he had often made use, but his being unable to

form any conception of God or to walk by meditation produced by

imaginary consideration, which is here to be understood by the pathless

land. So that the means to a knowledge of God and of oneself is this

dark night with its aridities and voids, although it leads not to a

knowledge of Him of the same plenitude and abundance that comes from

the other night of the spirit, since this is only, as it were, the

beginning of that other.

7. Likewise, from the aridities and voids of this night of the desire,

the soul draws spiritual humility, which is the contrary virtue to the

first capital sin, which, as we said, is spiritual pride. Through this

humility, which is acquired by the said knowledge of self, the soul is

purged from all those imperfections whereinto it fell with respect to

that sin of pride, in the time of its prosperity. For it sees itself so

dry and miserable that the idea never even occurs to it that it is

making better progress than others, or outstripping them, as it

believed itself to be doing before. On the contrary, it recognizes that

others are making better progress than itself.

8. And hence arises the love of its neighbours, for it esteems them,

and judges them not as it was wont to do aforetime, when it saw that

itself had great fervour and others not so. It is aware only of its own

wretchedness, which it keeps before its eyes to such an extent that it

never forgets it, nor takes occasion to set its eyes on anyone else.

This was described wonderfully by David, when he was in this night, in

these words: I was dumb and was humbled and kept silence from good

things and my sorrow was renewed.' [91] This he says because it seemed

to him that the good that was in his soul had so completely departed

that not only did he neither speak nor find any language concerning it,

but with respect to the good of others he was likewise dumb because of

his grief at the knowledge of his misery.

9. In this condition, again, souls become submissive and obedient upon

the spiritual road, for, when they see their own misery, not only do

they hear what is taught them, but they even desire that anyone soever

may set them on the way and tell them what they ought to do. The

affective presumption which they sometimes had in their prosperity is

taken from them; and finally, there are swept away from them on this

road all the other imperfections which we noted above with respect to

this first sin, which is spiritual pride.

__________________________________________________________________

[80] Genesis xxi, 8.

[81] Exodus xxxiii, 5.

[82] [Job ii, 7-8].

[83] [Lit., the deep heights.']

[84] Isaias lviii, 10.

[85] Isaias xxviii, 19. [The author omits the actual text.]

[86] To translate this passage at all, we must read the Dios camo of P.

Silverio (p. 403, 1. 20), which is also found in P. Gerardo and

elsewhere, as camo Dios.

[87] Isaias xxviii, 9.

[88] Habacuc ii, 1.

[89] St. Augustine: Soliloq., Cap. ii.

[90] Psalm lxii, 3 [A.V., lxiii, 1-2].

[91] Psalm xxxviii, 3 [A.V., xxxix, 2].

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XIII

Of other benefits which this night of sense causes in the soul.

WITH respect to the soul's imperfections of spiritual avarice, because

of which it coveted this and that spiritual thing and found no

satisfaction in this and that exercise by reason of its covetousness

for the desire and pleasure which it found therein, this arid and dark

night has now greatly reformed it. For, as it finds not the pleasure

and sweetness which it was wont to find, but rather finds affliction

and lack of sweetness, it has such moderate recourse to them that it

might possibly now lose, through defective use, what aforetime it lost

through excess; although as a rule God gives to those whom He leads

into this night humility and readiness, albeit with lack of sweetness,

so that what is commanded them they may do for God's sake alone; and

thus they no longer seek profit in many things because they find no

pleasure in them.

2. With respect to spiritual luxury, it is likewise clearly seen that,

through this aridity and lack of sensible sweetness which the soul

finds in spiritual things, it is freed from those impurities which we

there noted; for we said that, as a rule, they proceeded from the

pleasure which overflowed from spirit into sense.

3. But with regard to the imperfections from which the soul frees

itself in this dark night with respect to the fourth sin, which is

spiritual gluttony, they may be found above, though they have not all

been described there, because they are innumerable; and thus I will not

detail them here, for I would fain make an end of this night in order

to pass to the next, concerning which we shall have to pronounce grave

words and instructions. Let it suffice for the understanding of the

innumerable benefits which, over and above those mentioned, the soul

gains in this night with respect to this sin of spiritual gluttony, to

say that it frees itself from all those imperfections which have there

been described, and from many other and greater evils, and vile

abominations which are not written above, into which fell many of whom

we have had experience, because they had not reformed their desire as

concerning this inordinate love of spiritual sweetness. For in this

arid and dark night wherein He sets the soul, God has restrained its

concupiscence and curbed its desire so that the soul cannot feed upon

any pleasure or sweetness of sense, whether from above or from below;

and this He continues to do after such manner that the soul is

subjected, reformed and repressed with respect to concupiscence and

desire. It loses the strength of its passions and concupiscence and it

becomes sterile, because it no longer consults its likings. Just as,

when none is accustomed to take milk from the breast, the courses of

the milk are dried up, so the desires of the soul are dried up. And

besides these things there follow admirable benefits from this

spiritual sobriety, for, when desire and concupiscence are quenched,

the soul lives in spiritual tranquillity and peace; for, where desire

and concupiscence reign not, there is no disturbance, but peace and

consolation of God.

4. From this there arises another and a second benefit, which is that

the soul habitually has remembrance of God, with fear and dread of

backsliding upon the spiritual road, as has been said. This is a great

benefit, and not one of the least that results from this aridity and

purgation of the desire, for the soul is purified and cleansed of the

imperfections that were clinging to it because of the desires and

affections, which of their own accord deaden and darken the soul.

5. There is another very great benefit for the soul in this night,

which is that it practices several virtues together, as, for example,

patience and longsuffering, which are often called upon in these times

of emptiness and aridity, when the soul endures and perseveres in its

spiritual exercises without consolation and without pleasure. It

practises the charity of God, since it is not now moved by the pleasure

of attraction and sweetness which it finds in its work, but only by

God. It likewise practises here the virtue of fortitude, because, in

these difficulties and insipidities which it finds in its work, it

brings strength out of weakness and thus becomes strong. All the

virtues, in short--the theological and also the cardinal and

moral--both in body and in spirit, are practised by the soul in these

times of aridity.

6. And that in this night the soul obtains these four benefits which we

have here described (namely, delight of peace, habitual remembrance and

thought of God, cleanness and purity of soul and the practice of the

virtues which we have just described), David tells us, having

experienced it himself when he was in this night, in these words: My

soul refused consolations, I had remembrance of God, I found

consolation and was exercised and my spirit failed.' [92] And he then

says: And I meditated by night with my heart and was exercised, and I

swept and purified my spirit'--that is to say, from all the affections.

[93]

7. With respect to the imperfections of the other three spiritual sins

which we have described above, which are wrath, envy and sloth, the

soul is purged hereof likewise in this aridity of the desire and

acquires the virtues opposed to them; for, softened and humbled by

these aridities and hardships and other temptations and trials wherein

God exercises it during this night, it becomes meek with respect to

God, and to itself, and likewise with respect to its neighbour. So that

it is no longer disturbed and angry with itself because of its own

faults, nor with its neighbour because of his, neither is it displeased

with God, nor does it utter unseemly complaints because He does not

quickly make it holy.

8. Then, as to envy, the soul has charity toward others in this respect

also; for, if it has any envy, this is no longer a vice as it was

before, when it was grieved because others were preferred to it and

given greater advantage. Its grief now comes from seeing how great is

its own misery, and its envy (if it has any) is a virtuous envy, since

it desires to imitate others, which is great virtue.

9. Neither are the sloth and the irksomeness which it now experiences

concerning spiritual things vicious as they were before. For in the

past these sins proceeded from the spiritual pleasures which the soul

sometimes experienced and sought after when it found them not. But this

new weariness proceeds not from this insuffficiency of pleasure,

because God has taken from the soul pleasure in all things in this

purgation of the desire.

10. Besides these benefits which have been mentioned, the soul attains

innumerable others by means of this arid contemplation. For often, in

the midst of these times of aridity and hardship, God communicates to

the soul, when it is least expecting it, the purest spiritual sweetness

and love, together with a spiritual knowledge which is sometimes very

delicate, each manifestation of which is of greater benefit and worth

than those which the soul enjoyed aforetime; although in its beginnings

the soul thinks that this is not so, for the spiritual influence now

granted to it is very delicate and cannot be perceived by sense.

11. Finally, inasmuch as the soul is now purged from the affections and

desires of sense, it obtains liberty of spirit, whereby in ever greater

degree it gains the twelve fruits of the Holy Spirit. Here, too, it is

wondrously delivered from the hands of its three enemies--devil, world

and flesh; for, its pleasure and delight of sense being quenched with

respect to all things, neither the devil nor the world nor sensuality

has any arms or any strength wherewith to make war upon the spirit.

12. These times of aridity, then, cause the soul to journey in all

purity in the love of God, since it is no longer influenced in its

actions by the pleasure and sweetness of the actions themselves, as

perchance it was when it experienced sweetness, but only by a desire to

please God. It becomes neither presumptuous nor self-satisfied, as

perchance it was wont to become in the time of its prosperity, but

fearful and timid with regard to itself, finding in itself no

satisfaction whatsoever; and herein consists that holy fear which

preserves and increases the virtues. This aridity, too, quenches

natural energy and concupiscence, as has also been said. Save for the

pleasure, indeed, which at certain times God Himself infuses into it,

it is a wonder if it finds pleasure and consolation of sense, through

its own diligence, in any spiritual exercise or action, as has already

been said.

13. There grows within souls that experience this arid night concern

for God and yearnings to serve Him, for in proportion as the breasts of

sensuality, wherewith it sustained and nourished the desires that it

pursued, are drying up, there remains nothing in that aridity and

detachment save the yearning to serve God, which is a thing very

pleasing to God. For, as David says, an afflicted spirit is a sacrifice

to God. [94]

14. When the soul, then, knows that, in this arid purgation through

which it has passed, it has derived and attained so many and such

precious benefits as those which have here been described, it tarries

not in crying, as in the stanza of which we are expounding the lines,

Oh, happy chance!--I went forth without being observed.' That is, I

went forth' from the bonds and subjection of the desires of sense and

the affections, without being observed'--that is to say, without the

three enemies aforementioned being able to keep me from it. These

enemies, as we have said, bind the soul as with bonds, in its desires

and pleasures, and prevent it from going forth from itself to the

liberty of the love of God; and without these desires and pleasures

they cannot give battle to the soul, as has been said.

15. When, therefore, the four passions of the soul--which are joy,

grief, hope and fear--are calmed through continual mortification; when

the natural desires have been lulled to sleep, in the sensual nature of

the soul, by means of habitual times of aridity; and when the harmony

of the senses and the interior faculties causes a suspension of labour

and a cessation from the work of meditation, as we have said (which is

the dwelling and the household of the lower part of the soul), these

enemies cannot obstruct this spiritual liberty, and the house remains

at rest and quiet, as says the following line:

My house being now at rest.

__________________________________________________________________

[92] Psalm lxxvi, 4 [A.V., lxxvii, 3-4].

[93] Psalm lxxvi, 7 [A.V., lxxvii, 6].

[94] Psalm l, 19 [A.V., li, 17.]

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XIV

Expounds this last line of the first stanza.

WHEN this house of sensuality was now at rest--that is, was

mortified--its passions being quenched and its desires put to rest and

lulled to sleep by means of this blessed night of the purgation of

sense, the soul went forth, to set out upon the road and way of the

spirit, which is that of progressives and proficients, and which, by

another name, is called the way of illumination or of infused

contemplation, wherein God Himself feeds and refreshes the soul,

without meditation, or the soul's active help. Such, as we have said,

is the night and purgation of sense in the soul. In those who have

afterwards to enter the other and more formidable night of the spirit,

in order to pass to the Divine union of love of God (for not all pass

habitually thereto, but only the smallest number), it is wont to be

accompanied by formidable trials and temptations of sense, which last

for a long time, albeit longer in some than in others. For to some the

angel of Satan presents himself--namely, the spirit of

fornication--that he may buffet their senses with abominable and

violent temptations, and trouble their spirits with vile considerations

and representations which are most visible to the imagination, which

things at times are a greater affliction to them than death.

2. At other times in this night there is added to these things the

spirit of blasphemy, which roams abroad, setting in the path of all the

conceptions and thoughts of the soul intolerable blasphemies. These it

sometimes suggests to the imagination with such violence that the soul

almost utters them, which is a grave torment to it.

3. At other times another abominable spirit, which Isaias calls

Spiritus vertiginis, [95] is allowed to molest them, not in order that

they may fall, but that it may try them. This spirit darkens their

senses in such a way that it fills them with numerous scruples and

perplexities, so confusing that, as they judge, they can never, by any

means, be satisfied concerning them, neither can they find any help for

their judgment in counsel or thought. This is one of the severest goads

and horrors of this night, very closely akin to that which passes in

the night of the spirit.

4. As a rule these storms and trials are sent by God in this night and

purgation of sense to those whom afterwards He purposes to lead into

the other night (though not all reach it), to the end that, when they

have been chastened and buffeted, they may in this way continually

exercise and prepare themselves, and continually accustom their senses

and faculties to the union of wisdom which is to be bestowed upon them

in that other night. For, if the soul be not tempted, exercised and

proved with trials and temptations, it cannot quicken its sense of

Wisdom. For this reason it is said in Ecclesiasticus: He that has not

been tempted, what does he know? And he that has not been proved, what

are the things that he recognizes?' [96] To this truth Jeremias bears

good witness, saying: Thou didst chastise me, Lord, and I was

instructed.' [97] And the most proper form of this chastisement, for

one who will enter into Wisdom, is that of the interior trials which we

are here describing, inasmuch as it is these which most effectively

purge sense of all favours and consolations to which it was affected,

with natural weakness, and by which the soul is truly humiliated in

preparation for the exaltation which it is to experience.

5. For how long a time the soul will be held in this fasting and

penance of sense, cannot be said with any certainty; for all do not

experience it after one manner, neither do all encounter the same

temptations. For this is meted out by the will of God, in conformity

with the greater or the smaller degree of imperfection which each soul

has to purge away. In conformity, likewise, with the degree of love of

union to which God is pleased to raise it, He will humble it with

greater or less intensity or in greater or less time. Those who have

the disposition and greater strength to suffer, He purges with greater

intensity and more quickly. But those who are very weak are kept for a

long time in this night, and these He purges very gently and with

slight temptations. Habitually, too, He gives them refreshments of

sense so that they may not fall away, and only after a long time do

they attain to purity of perfection in this life, some of them never

attaining to it at all. Such are neither properly in the night nor

properly out of it; for, although they make no progress, yet, in order

that they may continue in humility and self-knowledge, God exercises

them for certain periods and at certain times [98] in those temptations

and aridities; and at other times and seasons He assists them with

consolations, lest they should grow faint and return to seek the

consolations of the world. Other souls, which are weaker, God Himself

accompanies, now appearing to them, now moving farther away, that He

may exercise them in His love; for without such turnings away they

would not learn to reach God.

6. But the souls which are to pass on to that happy and high estate,

the union of love, are wont as a rule to remain for a long time in

these aridities and temptations, however quickly God may lead them, as

has been seen by experience. It is time, then, to begin to treat of the

second night.

__________________________________________________________________

[95] [The 'spirit of giddiness' of D.V., and perverse spirit' of A.V.,

Isaias xix, 14.]

[96] Ecclesiasticus xxxiv, 9-10.

[97] Jeremias xxxi, 18.

[98] [Lit., for certain days.']

__________________________________________________________________

[20] [More exactly: purificative.']

__________________________________________________________________

BOOK THE SECOND

Of the Dark Night of the Spirit.

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER I

Which begins to treat of the dark nights of the spirit and says at

what time it begins.

THE soul which God is about to lead onward is not led by His Majesty

into this night of the spirit as soon as it goes forth from the

aridities and trials of the first purgation and night of sense; rather

it is wont to pass a long time, even years, after leaving the state of

beginners, in exercising itself in that of proficients. In this latter

state it is like to one that has come forth from a rigorous

imprisonment; [99] it goes about the things of God with much greater

freedom and satisfaction of the soul, and with more abundant and inward

delight than it did at the beginning before it entered the said night.

For its imagination and faculties are no longer bound, as they were

before, by meditation and anxiety of spirit, since it now very readily

finds in its spirit the most serene and loving contemplation and

spiritual sweetness without the labour of meditation; although, as the

purgation of the soul is not complete (for the principal part thereof,

which is that of the spirit, is wanting, without which, owing to the

communication that exists between the one part and the other, [100]

since the subject is one only, the purgation of sense, however violent

it may have been, is not yet complete and perfect), it is never without

certain occasional necessities, aridities, darknesses and perils which

are sometimes much more intense than those of the past, for they are as

tokens and heralds of the coming night of the spirit, and are not of as

long duration as will be the night which is to come. For, having passed

through a period, or periods, or days of this night and tempest, the

soul soon returns to its wonted serenity; and after this manner God

purges certain souls which are not to rise to so high a degree of love

as are others, bringing them at times, and for short periods, into this

night of contemplation and purgation of the spirit, causing night to

come upon them and then dawn, and this frequently, so that the words of

David may be fulfilled, that He sends His crystal--that is, His

contemplation--like morsels, [101] although these morsels of dark

contemplation are never as intense as is that terrible night of

contemplation which we are to describe, into which, of set purpose, God

brings the soul that He may lead it to Divine union.

2. This sweetness, then, and this interior pleasure which we are

describing, and which these progressives find and experience in their

spirits so easily and so abundantly, is communicated to them in much

greater abundance than aforetime, overflowing into their senses more

than was usual previously to this purgation of sense; for, inasmuch as

the sense is now purer, it can more easily feel the pleasures of the

spirit after its manner. As, however, this sensual part of the soul is

weak and incapable of experiencing the strong things of the spirit, it

follows that these proficients, by reason of this spiritual

communication which is made to their sensual part endure therein many

frailties and sufferings and weaknesses of the stomach, and in

consequence are fatigued in spirit. For, as the Wise Man says: The

corruptible body presseth down the soul.' [102] Hence comes it that the

communications that are granted to these souls cannot be very strong or

very intense or very spiritual, as is required for Divine union with

God, by reason of the weakness and corruption of the sensual nature

which has a part in them. Hence arise the raptures and trances and

dislocations of the bones which always happen when the communications

are not purely spiritual--that is, are not given to the spirit alone,

as are those of the perfect who are purified by the second night of the

spirit, and in whom these raptures and torments of the body no longer

exist, since they are enjoying liberty of spirit, and their senses are

now neither clouded nor transported.

3. And in order that the necessity for such souls to enter this night

of the spirit may be understood, we will here note certain

imperfections and perils which belong to these proficients.

__________________________________________________________________

[99] [Lit., from a narrow prison.']

[100] [i.e., between sense and spirit.]

[101] Psalm cxlvii, 17 [D.V. and A.V.].

[102] Wisdom ix, 15.

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER II

Describes other imperfections [103] which belong to these

proficients.

THESE proficients have two kinds of imperfection: the one kind is

habitual; the other actual. The habitual imperfections are the

imperfect habits and affections which have remained all the time in the

spirit, and are like roots, to which the purgation of sense has been

unable to penetrate. The difference between the purgation of these and

that of this other kind is the difference between the root and the

branch, or between the removing of a stain which is fresh and one which

is old and of long standing. For, as we said, the purgation of sense is

only the entrance and beginning of contemplation leading to the

purgation of the spirit, which, as we have likewise said, serves rather

to accommodate sense to spirit than to unite spirit with God. But there

still remain in the spirit the stains of the old man, although the

spirit thinks not that this is so, neither can it perceive them; if

these stains be not removed with the soap and strong lye of the

purgation of this night, the spirit will be unable to come to the

purity of Divine union.

2. These souls have likewise the hebetudo mentis [104] and the natural

roughness which every man contracts through sin, and the distraction

and outward clinging of the spirit, which must be enlightened, refined

and recollected by the afflictions and perils of that night. These

habitual imperfections belong to all those who have not passed beyond

this state of the proficient; they cannot coexist, as we say, with the

perfect state of union through love.

3. To actual imperfections all are not liable in the same way. Some,

whose spiritual good is so superficial and so readily affected by

sense, fall into greater difficulties and dangers, which we described

at the beginning of this treatise. For, as they find so many and such

abundant spiritual communications and apprehensions, both in sense and

in spirit wherein they oftentimes see imaginary and spiritual visions

(for all these things, together with other delectable feelings, come to

many souls in this state, wherein the devil and their own fancy very

commonly practise deceptions on them), and, as the devil is apt to take

such pleasure in impressing upon the soul and suggesting to it the said

apprehensions and feelings, he fascinates and deludes it with great

ease unless it takes the precaution of resigning itself to God, and of

protecting itself strongly, by means of faith, from all these visions

and feelings. For in this state the devil causes many to believe in

vain visions and false prophecies; and strives to make them presume

that God and the saints are speaking with them; and they often trust

their own fancy. And the devil is also accustomed, in this state, to

fill them with presumption and pride, so that they become attracted by

vanity and arrogance, and allow themselves to be seen engaging in

outward acts which appear holy, such as raptures and other

manifestations. Thus they become bold with God, and lose holy fear,

which is the key and the custodian of all the virtues; and in some of

these souls so many are the falsehoods and deceits which tend to

multiply, and so inveterate do they grow, that it is very doubtful if

such souls will return to the pure road of virtue and true

spirituality. Into these miseries they fall because they are beginning

to give themselves over to spiritual feelings and apprehensions with

too great security, when they were beginning to make some progress upon

the way.

4. There is much more that I might say of these imperfections and of

how they are the more incurable because such souls consider them to be

more spiritual than the others, but I will leave this subject. I shall

only add, in order to prove how necessary, for him that would go

farther, is the night of the spirit, which is purgation, that none of

these proficients, however strenuously he may have laboured, is free,

at best, from many of those natural affections and imperfect habits,

purification from which, we said, is necessary if a soul is to pass to

Divine union.

5. And over and above this (as we have said already), inasmuch as the

lower part of the soul still has a share in these spiritual

communications, they cannot be as intense, as pure and as strong as is

needful for the aforesaid union; wherefore, in order to come to this

union, the soul must needs enter into the second night of the spirit,

wherein it must strip sense and spirit perfectly from all these

apprehensions and from all sweetness, and be made to walk in dark and

pure faith, which is the proper and adequate means whereby the soul is

united with God, according as Osee says, in these words: I will betroth

thee--that is, I will unite thee--with Me through faith.' [105]

__________________________________________________________________

[103] [Lit., Continues with other imperfections.']

[104] [i.e., deadening of the mind.']

[105] Osee ii, 20.

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER III

Annotation for that which follows.

THESE souls, then, have now become proficients, because of the time

which they have spent in feeding the senses with sweet communications,

so that their sensual part, being thus attracted and delighted by

spiritual pleasure, which came to it from the spirit, may be united

with the spirit and made one with it; each part after its own manner

eating of one and the same spiritual food and from one and the same

dish, as one person and with one sole intent, so that thus they may in

a certain way be united and brought into agreement, and, thus united,

may be prepared for the endurance of the stern and severe purgation of

the spirit which awaits them. In this purgation these two parts of the

soul, the spiritual and the sensual, must be completely purged, since

the one is never truly purged without the other, the purgation of sense

becoming effective when that of the spirit has fairly begun. Wherefore

the night which we have called that of sense may and should be called a

kind of correction and restraint of the desire rather than purgation.

The reason is that all the imperfections and disorders of the sensual

part have their strength and root in the spirit, where all habits, both

good and bad, are brought into subjection, and thus, until these are

purged, the rebellions and depravities of sense cannot be purged

thoroughly.

2. Wherefore, in this night following, both parts of the soul are

purged together, and it is for this end that it is well to have passed

through the corrections of the first night, and the period of

tranquillity which proceeds from it, in order that, sense being united

with spirit, both may be purged after a certain manner and may then

suffer with greater fortitude. For very great fortitude is needful for

so violent and severe a purgation, since, if the weakness of the lower

part has not first been corrected and fortitude has not been gained

from God through the sweet and delectable communion which the soul has

afterwards enjoyed with Him, its nature will not have the strength or

the disposition to bear it.

3. Therefore, since these proficients are still at a very low stage of

progress, and follow their own nature closely in the intercourse and

dealings which they have with God, because the gold of their spirit is

not yet purified and refined, they still think of God as little

children, and speak of God as little children, and feel and experience

God as little children, even as Saint Paul says, [106] because they

have not reached perfection, which is the union of the soul with God.

In the state of union, however, they will work great things in the

spirit, even as grown men, and their works and faculties will then be

Divine rather than human, as will afterwards be said. To this end God

is pleased to strip them of this old man and clothe them with the new

man, who is created according to God, as the Apostle says, [107] in the

newness of sense. He strips their faculties, affections and feelings,

both spiritual and sensual, both outward and inward, leaving the

understanding dark, the will dry, the memory empty and the affections

in the deepest affliction, bitterness and constraint, taking from the

soul the pleasure and experience of spiritual blessings which it had

aforetime, in order to make of this privation one of the principles

which are requisite in the spirit so that there may be introduced into

it and united with it the spiritual form of the spirit, which is the

union of love. All this the Lord works in the soul by means of a pure

and dark contemplation, as the soul explains in the first stanza. This,

although we originally interpreted it with reference to the first night

of sense, is principally understood by the soul of this second night of

the spirit, since this is the principal part of the purification of the

soul. And thus we shall set it down and expound it here again in this

sense.

__________________________________________________________________

[106] 1 Corinthians xiii, 11.

[107] [Ephesians iv, 24.]

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER IV

Sets down the first stanza and the exposition thereof.

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

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

EXPOSITION

INTERPRETING this stanza now with reference to purgation, contemplation

or detachment or poverty of spirit, which here are almost one and the

same thing, we can expound it after this manner and make the soul speak

thus: In poverty, and without protection or support in all the

apprehensions of my soul--that is, in the darkness of my understanding

and the constraint of my will, in affliction and anguish with respect

to memory, remaining in the dark in pure faith, which is dark night for

the said natural faculties, the will alone being touched by grief and

afflictions and yearnings for the love of God--I went forth from

myself--that is, from my low manner of understanding, from my weak mode

of loving and from my poor and limited manner of experiencing God,

without being hindered therein by sensuality or the devil.

2. This was a great happiness and a good chance for me; for, when the

faculties had been perfectly annihilated and calmed, together with the

passions, desires and affections of my soul, wherewith I had

experienced and tasted God after a lowly manner, I went forth from my

own human dealings and operations to the operations and dealings of

God. That is to say, my understanding went forth from itself, turning

from the human and natural to the Divine; for, when it is united with

God by means of this purgation, its understanding no longer comes

through its natural light and vigour, but through the Divine Wisdom

wherewith it has become united. And my will went forth from itself,

becoming Divine; for, being united with Divine love, it no longer loves

with its natural strength after a lowly manner, but with strength and

purity from the Holy Spirit; and thus the will, which is now near to

God, acts not after a human manner, and similarly the memory has become

transformed into eternal apprehensions of glory. And finally, by means

of this night and purgation of the old man, all the energies and

affections of the soul are wholly renewed into a Divine temper and

Divine delight.

There follows the line:

On a dark night.

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER V

Sets down the first line and begins to explain how this dark

contemplation is not only night for the soul but is also grief and

torment.

THIS dark night is an inflowing of God into the soul, which purges it

from its ignorances and imperfections, habitual natural and spiritual,

and which is called by contemplatives infused contemplation, or

mystical theology. Herein God secretly teaches the soul and instructs

it in perfection of love without its doing anything, or understanding

of what manner is this infused contemplation. Inasmuch as it is the

loving wisdom of God, God produces striking effects in the soul for, by

purging and illumining it, He prepares it for the union of love with

God. Wherefore the same loving wisdom that purges the blessed spirits

and enlightens them is that which here purges the soul and illumines

it.

2. But the question arises: Why is the Divine light (which as we say,

illumines and purges the soul from its ignorances) here called by the

soul a dark night? To this the answer is that for two reasons this

Divine wisdom is not only night and darkness for the soul, but is

likewise affliction and torment. The first is because of the height of

Divine Wisdom, which transcends the talent of the soul, and in this way

is darkness to it; the second, because of its vileness and impurity, in

which respect it is painful and afflictive to it, and is also dark.

3. In order to prove the first point, we must here assume a certain

doctrine of the philosopher, which says that, the clearer and more

manifest are Divine things in themselves the darker and more hidden are

they to the soul naturally; just as, the clearer is the light, the more

it blinds and darkens the pupil of the owl, and, the more directly we

look at the sun, the greater is the darkness which it causes in our

visual faculty, overcoming and overwhelming it through its own

weakness. In the same way, when this Divine light of contemplation

assails the soul which is not yet wholly enlightened, it causes

spiritual darkness in it; for not only does it overcome it, but

likewise it overwhelms it and darkens the act of its natural

intelligence. For this reason Saint Dionysius and other mystical

theologians call this infused contemplation a ray of darkness--that is

to say, for the soul that is not enlightened and purged--for the

natural strength of the intellect is transcended and overwhelmed by its

great supernatural light. Wherefore David likewise said: That near to

God and round about Him are darkness and cloud; [108] not that this is

so in fact, but that it is so to our weak understanding, which is

blinded and darkened by so vast a light, to which it cannot attain.

[109] For this cause the same David then explained himself, saying:

Through the great splendour of His presence passed clouds' [110] --that

is, between God and our understanding. And it is for this cause that,

when God sends it out from Himself to the soul that is not yet

transformed, this illumining ray of His secret wisdom causes thick

darkness in the understanding.

4. And it is clear that this dark contemplation is in these its

beginnings painful likewise to the soul; for, as this Divine infused

contemplation has many excellences that are extremely good, and the

soul that receives them, not being purged, has many miseries that are

likewise extremely bad, hence it follows that, as two contraries cannot

coexist in one subject--the soul--it must of necessity have pain and

suffering, since it is the subject wherein these two contraries war

against each other, working the one against the other, by reason of the

purgation of the imperfections of the soul which comes to pass through

this contemplation. This we shall prove inductively in the manner

following.

5. In the first place, because the light and wisdom of this

contemplation is most bright and pure, and the soul which it assails is

dark and impure, it follows that the soul suffers great pain when it

receives it in itself, just as, when the eyes are dimmed by humours,

and become impure and weak, the assault made upon them by a bright

light causes them pain. And when the soul suffers the direct assault of

this Divine light, its pain, which results from its impurity, is

immense; because, when this pure light assails the soul, in order to

expel its impurity, the soul feels itself to be so impure and miserable

that it believes God to be against it, and thinks that it has set

itself up against God. This causes it sore grief and pain, because it

now believes that God has cast it away: this was one of the greatest

trials which Job felt when God sent him this experience, and he said:

Why hast Thou set me contrary to Thee, so that I am grievous and

burdensome to myself?' [111] For, by means of this pure light, the soul

now sees its impurity clearly (although darkly), and knows clearly that

it is unworthy of God or of any creature. And what gives it most pain

is that it thinks that it will never be worthy and that its good things

are all over for it. This is caused by the profound immersion of its

spirit in the knowledge and realization of its evils and miseries; for

this Divine and dark light now reveals them all to the eye, that it may

see clearly how in its own strength it can never have aught else. In

this sense we may understand that passage from David, which says: For

iniquity Thou hast corrected man and hast made his soul to be undone

and consumed: he wastes away as the spider.' [112]

6. The second way in which the soul suffers pain is by reason of its

weakness, natural, moral and spiritual; for, when this Divine

contemplation assails the soul with a certain force, in order to

strengthen it and subdue it, it suffers such pain in its weakness that

it nearly swoons away. This is especially so at certain times when it

is assailed with somewhat greater force; for sense and spirit, as if

beneath some immense and dark load, are in such great pain and agony

that the soul would find advantage and relief in death. This had been

experienced by the prophet Job, when he said: I desire not that He

should have intercourse with me in great strength, lest He oppress me

with the weight of His greatness.' [113]

7. Beneath the power of this oppression and weight the soul feels

itself so far from being favoured that it thinks, and correctly so,

that even that wherein it was wont to find some help has vanished with

everything else, and that there is none who has pity upon it. To this

effect Job says likewise: Have pity upon me, have pity upon me, at

least ye my friends, because the hand of the Lord has touched me.'

[114] A thing of great wonder and pity is it that the soul's weakness

and impurity should now be so great that, though the hand of God is of

itself so light and gentle, the soul should now feel it to be so heavy

and so contrary, [115] though it neither weighs it down nor rests upon

it, but only touches it, and that mercifully, since He does this in

order to grant the soul favours and not to chastise it.

__________________________________________________________________

[108] Psalm xcvi, 2 [A.V., xcvii, 2].

[109] [Lit., not attaining.']

[110] Psalm xvii, 13, [A.V., xviii, 12].

[111] Job vii, 20.

[112] Psalm xxxviii, 12 [A.V., xxxix, 11].

[113] Job xxiii, 6.

[114] Job xix, 21.

[115] [There is a reference here to Job vii, 20: cf. sect. 5, above.]

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER VI

Of other kinds of pain that the soul suffers in this night.

THE third kind of suffering and pain that the soul endures in this

state results from the fact that two other extremes meet here in one,

namely, the Divine and the human. The Divine is this purgative

contemplation, and the human is the subject--that is, the soul. The

Divine assails the soul in order to renew it and thus to make it

Divine; and, stripping it of the habitual affections and attachments of

the old man, to which it is very closely united, knit together and

conformed, destroys and consumes its spiritual substance, and absorbs

it in deep and profound darkness. As a result of this, the soul feels

itself to be perishing and melting away, in the presence and sight of

its miseries, in a cruel spiritual death, even as if it had been

swallowed by a beast and felt itself being devoured in the darkness of

its belly, suffering such anguish as was endured by Jonas in the belly

of that beast of the sea. [116] For in this sepulchre of dark death it

must needs abide until the spiritual resurrection which it hopes for.

2. A description of this suffering and pain, although in truth it

transcends all description, is given by David, when he says: The

lamentations of death compassed me about; the pains of hell surrounded

me; I cried in my tribulation.' [117] But what the sorrowful soul feels

most in this condition is its clear perception, as it thinks, that God

has abandoned it, and, in His abhorrence of it, has flung it into

darkness; it is a grave and piteous grief for it to believe that God

has forsaken it. It is this that David also felt so much in a like

case, saying: After the manner wherein the wounded are dead in the

sepulchres,' being now cast off by Thy hand, so that Thou rememberest

them no more, even so have they set me in the deepest and lowest lake,

in the dark places and in the shadow of death, and Thy fury is

confirmed upon me and all Thy waves Thou hast brought in upon me.'

[118] For indeed, when this purgative contemplation is most severe, the

soul feels very keenly the shadow of death and the lamentations of

death and the pains of hell, which consist in its feeling itself to be

without God, and chastised and cast out, and unworthy of Him; and it

feels that He is wroth with it. All this is felt by the soul in this

condition--yea, and more, for it believes that it is so with it for

ever.

3. It feels, too, that all creatures have forsaken it, and that it is

contemned by them, particularly by its friends. Wherefore David

presently continues, saying: ' Thou hast put far from me my friends and

acquaintances; they have counted me an abomination.' [119] To all this

will Jonas testify, as one who likewise experienced it in the belly of

the beast, both bodily and spiritually. Thou hast cast me forth (he

says) into the deep, into the heart of the sea, and the flood hath

compassed me; all its billows and waves have passed over me. And I

said, "I am cast away out of the sight of Thine eyes, but I shall once

again see Thy holy temple" (which he says, because God purifies the

soul in this state that it may see His temple); the waters compassed

me, even to the soul, the deep hath closed me round about, the ocean

hath covered my head, I went down to the lowest parts of the mountains;

the bars of the earth have shut me up for ever.' [120] By these bars

are here understood, in this sense, imperfections of the soul, which

have impeded it from enjoying this delectable contemplation.

4. The fourth kind of pain is caused in the soul by another excellence

of this dark contemplation, which is its majesty and greatness, from

which arises in the soul a consciousness of the other extreme which is

in itself--namely, that of the deepest poverty and wretchedness: this

is one of the chiefest pains that it suffers in this purgation. For it

feels within itself a profound emptiness and impoverishment of three

kinds of good, which are ordained for the pleasure of the soul which

are the temporal, the natural and the spiritual; and finds itself set

in the midst of the evils contrary to these, namely, miseries of

imperfection, aridity and emptiness of the apprehensions of the

faculties and abandonment of the spirit in darkness. Inasmuch as God

here purges the soul according to the substance of its sense and

spirit, and according to the interior and exterior faculties, the soul

must needs be in all its parts reduced to a state of emptiness, poverty

and abandonment and must be left dry and empty and in darkness. For the

sensual part is purified in aridity, the faculties are purified in the

emptiness of their perceptions and the spirit is purified in thick

darkness.

5. All this God brings to pass by means of this dark contemplation;

wherein the soul not only suffers this emptiness and the suspension of

these natural supports and perceptions, which is a most afflictive

suffering (as if a man were suspended or held in the air so that he

could not breathe), but likewise He is purging the soul, annihilating

it, emptying it or consuming in it (even as fire consumes the

mouldiness and the rust of metal) all the affections and imperfect

habits which it has contracted in its whole life. Since these are

deeply rooted in the substance of the soul, it is wont to suffer great

undoings and inward torment, besides the said poverty and emptiness,

natural and spiritual, so that there may here be fulfilled that passage

from Ezechiel which says: Heap together the bones and I will burn them

in the fire; the flesh shall be consumed and the whole composition

shall be burned and the bones shall be destroyed.' [121] Herein is

understood the pain which is suffered in the emptiness and poverty of

the substance of the soul both in sense and in spirit. And concerning

this he then says: 'set it also empty upon the coals, that its metal

may become hot and molten, and its uncleanness may be destroyed within

it, and its rust may be consumed.' [122] Herein is described the grave

suffering which the soul here endures in the purgation of the fire of

this contemplation, for the Prophet says here that, in order for the

rust of the affections which are within the soul to be purified and

destroyed, it is needful that, in a certain manner, the soul itself

should be annihilated and destroyed, since these passions and

imperfections have become natural to it.

6. Wherefore, because the soul is purified in this furnace like gold in

a crucible, as says the Wise Man, [123] it is conscious of this

complete undoing of itself in its very substance, together with the

direst poverty, wherein it is, as it were, nearing its end, as may be

seen by that which David says of himself in this respect, in these

words: 'save me, Lord (he cries to God), for the waters have come in

even unto my soul; I am made fast in the mire of the deep and there is

no place where I can stand; I am come into the depth of the sea and a

tempest hath overwhelmed me; I have laboured crying, my throat has

become hoarse, mine eyes have failed whilst I hope in my God.' [124]

Here God greatly humbles the soul in order that He may afterwards

greatly exalt it; and if He ordained not that, when these feelings

arise within the soul, they should speedily be stilled, it would die in

a very short space; but there are only occasional periods when it is

conscious of their greatest intensity. At times, however, they are so

keen that the soul seems to be seeing hell and perdition opened. Of

such are they that in truth go down alive into hell, being purged here

on earth in the same manner as there, since this purgation is that

which would have to be accomplished there. And thus the soul that

passes through this either enters not that place [125] at all, or

tarries there but for a very short time; for one hour of purgation here

is more profitable than are many there.

__________________________________________________________________

[116] Jonas ii, 1.

[117]

[118] Psalm lxxxvii, 6-8 [A.V., lxxxviii, 5-7].

[119] Psalm lxxxvii, 9 [A.V., lxxxviii, 8].

[120] Jonas ii, 4-7 [A.V., ii, 3-6].

[121] Ezechiel xxiv, 10.

[122] Ezechiel xxiv, 11.

[123] Wisdom iii, 6.

[124] Psalm lxviii, 2-4 [A.V., lxix, 1-3].

[125] [i.e., purgatory.]

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER VII

Continues the same matter and considers other afflictions end

constraints of the will.

THE afflictions and constraints of the will are now very great

likewise, and of such a kind that they sometimes transpierce the soul

with a sudden remembrance of the evils in the midst of which it finds

itself, and with the uncertainty of finding a remedy for them. And to

this is added the remembrance of times of prosperity now past; for as a

rule souls that enter this night have had many consolations from God,

and have rendered Him many services, and it causes them the greater

grief to see that they are far removed from that happiness and unable

to enter into it. This was also described by Job, who had had

experience of it, in these words: I, who was wont to be wealthy and

rich, am suddenly undone and broken to pieces; He hath taken me by my

neck; He hath broken me and set me up for His mark to wound me; He hath

compassed me round about with His lances; He hath wounded all my loins;

He hath not spared; He hath poured out my bowels on the earth; He hath

broken me with wound upon wound; He hath assailed me as a strong giant;

I have sewed sackcloth upon my skin and have covered my flesh with

ashes; my face is become swollen with weeping and mine eyes are

blinded.' [126]

2. So many and so grievous are the afflictions of this night, and so

many passages of Scripture are there which could be cited to this

purpose, that time and strength would fail us to write of them, for all

that can be said thereof is certainly less than the truth. From the

passages already quoted some idea may be gained of them. And, that we

may bring the exposition of this line to a close and explain more fully

what is worked in the soul by this night, I shall tell what Jeremias

felt about it, which, since there is so much of it, he describes and

bewails in many words after this manner: I am the man that see my

poverty in the rod of His indignation; He hath threatened me and

brought me into darkness and not into light. So far hath He turned

against me and hath converted His hand upon me all the day! My skin and

my flesh hath He made old; He hath broken my bones; He hath made a

fence around me and compassed me with gall and trial; He hath set me in

dark places, as those that are dead for ever. He hath made a fence

around me and against me, that I may not go out; He hath made my

captivity heavy. Yea, and when I have cried and have entreated, He hath

shut out my prayer. He hath enclosed my paths and ways out with square

stones; He hath thwarted my steps. He hath set ambushes for me; He hath

become to me a lion in a secret place. He hath turned aside my steps

and broken me in pieces, He hath made me desolate; He hath bent His bow

and set me as a mark for His arrow. He hath shot into my reins the

daughters of His quiver. I have become a derision to all the people,

and laughter and scorn for them all the day. He hath filled me with

bitterness and hath made me drunken with wormwood. He hath broken my

teeth by number; He hath fed me with ashes. My soul is cast out from

peace; I have forgotten good things. And I said: "Mine end is

frustrated and cut short, together with my desire and my hope from the

Lord. Remember my poverty and my excess, the wormwood and the gall. I

shall be mindful with remembrance and my soul shall be undone within me

in pains."' [127]

3. All these complaints Jeremias makes about these pains and trials,

and by means of them he most vividly depicts the sufferings of the soul

in this spiritual night and purgation. Wherefore the soul that God sets

in this tempestuous and horrible night is deserving of great

compassion. For, although it experiences much happiness by reason of

the great blessings that must arise on this account within it, when, as

Job says, God raises up profound blessings in the soul out of darkness,

and brings up to light the shadow of death, [128] so that, as David

says, His light comes to be as was His darkness; [129] yet

notwithstanding, by reason of the dreadful pain which the soul is

suffering, and of the great uncertainty which it has concerning the

remedy for it, since it believes, as this prophet says here, that its

evil will never end, and it thinks, as David says likewise, that God

set it in dark places like those that are dead, [130] and for this

reason brought its spirit within it into anguish and troubled its

heart, [131] it suffers great pain and grief, since there is added to

all this (because of the solitude and abandonment caused in it by this

dark night) the fact that it finds no consolation or support in any

instruction nor in a spiritual master. For, although in many ways its

director may show it good reason for being comforted because of the

blessings which are contained in these afflictions, it cannot believe

him. For it is so greatly absorbed and immersed in the realization of

those evils wherein it sees its own miseries so clearly, that it thinks

that, as its director observes not that which it sees and feels, he is

speaking in this manner because he understands it not; and so, instead

of comfort, it rather receives fresh affliction, since it believes that

its director's advice contains no remedy for its troubles. And, in

truth, this is so; for, until the Lord shall have completely purged it

after the manner that He wills, no means or remedy is of any service or

profit for the relief of its affliction; the more so because the soul

is as powerless in this case as one who has been imprisoned in a dark

dungeon, and is bound hand and foot, and can neither move nor see, nor

feel any favour whether from above or from below, until the spirit is

humbled, softened and purified, and grows so keen and delicate and pure

that it can become one with the Spirit of God, according to the degree

of union of love which His mercy is pleased to grant it; in proportion

to this the purgation is of greater or less severity and of greater or

less duration.

4. But, if it is to be really effectual, it will last for some years,

however severe it be; since the purgative process allows intervals of

relief wherein, by the dispensation of God, this dark contemplation

ceases to assail the soul in the form and manner of purgation, and

assails it after an illuminative and a loving manner, wherein the soul,

like one that has gone forth from this dungeon and imprisonment, and is

brought into the recreation of spaciousness and liberty, feels and

experiences great sweetness of peace and loving friendship with God,

together with a ready abundance of spiritual communication. This is to

the soul a sign of the health which is being wrought within it by the

said purgation and a foretaste of the abundance for which it hopes.

Occasionally this is so great that the soul believes its trials to be

at last over. For spiritual things in the soul, when they are most

purely spiritual, have this characteristic that, if trials come to it,

the soul believes that it will never escape from them, and that all its

blessings are now over, as has been seen in the passages quoted; and,

if spiritual blessings come, the soul believes in the same way that its

troubles are now over, and that blessings will never fail it. This was

so with David, when he found himself in the midst of them, as he

confesses in these words: I said in my abundance: "I shall never be

moved."' [132]

5. This happens because the actual possession by the spirit of one of

two contrary things itself makes impossible the actual possession and

realization of the other contrary thing; this is not so, however, in

the sensual part of the soul, because its apprehension is weak. But, as

the spirit is not yet completely purged and cleansed from the

affections that it has contracted from its lower part, while changing

not in so far as it is spirit, it can be moved to further afflictions

in so far as these affections sway it. In this way, as we see, David

was afterwards moved, and experienced many ills and afflictions,

although in the time of his abundance he had thought and said that he

would never be moved. Just so is it with the soul in this condition,

when it sees itself moved by that abundance of spiritual blessings,

and, being unable to see the root of the imperfection and impurity

which still remain within it, thinks that its trials are over.

6. This thought, however, comes to the soul but seldom, for, until

spiritual purification is complete and perfected, the sweet

communication is very rarely so abundant as to conceal from the soul

the root which remains hidden, in such a way that the soul can cease to

feel that there is something that it lacks within itself or that it has

still to do. Thus it cannot completely enjoy that relief, but feels as

if one of its enemies were within it, and although this enemy is, as it

were, hushed and asleep, it fears that he will come to life again and

attack it. [133] And this is what indeed happens, for, when the soul is

most secure and least alert, it is dragged down and immersed again in

another and a worse degree of affliction which is severer and darker

and more grievous than that which is past; and this new affliction will

continue for a further period of time, perhaps longer than the first.

And the soul once more comes to believe that all its blessings are over

for ever. Although it had thought during its first trial that there

were no more afflictions which it could suffer, and yet, after the

trial was over, it enjoyed great blessings, this experience is not

sufficient to take away its belief, during this second degree of trial,

that all is now over for it and that it will never again be happy as in

the past. For, as I say, this belief, of which the soul is so sure, is

caused in it by the actual apprehension of the spirit, which

annihilates within it all that is contrary to it.

7. This is the reason why those who lie in purgatory suffer great

misgivings as to whether they will ever go forth from it and whether

their pains will ever be over. For, although they have the habit of the

three theological virtues--faith, hope and charity--the present

realization which they have of their afflictions and of their

deprivation of God allows them not to enjoy the present blessing and

consolation of these virtues. For, although they are able to realize

that they have a great love for God, this is no consolation to them,

since they cannot think that God loves them or that they are worthy

that He should do so; rather, as they see that they are deprived of

Him, and left in their own miseries, they think that there is that in

themselves which provides a very good reason why they should with

perfect justice be abhorred and cast out by God for ever. [134] And

thus although the soul in this purgation is conscious that it has a

great love for God and would give a thousand lives for Him (which is

the truth, for in these trials such souls love their God very

earnestly), yet this is no relief to it, but rather brings it greater

affliction. For it loves Him so much that it cares about naught beside;

when, therefore, it sees itself to be so wretched that it cannot

believe that God loves it, nor that there is or will ever be reason why

He should do so, but rather that there is reason why it should be

abhorred, not only by Him, but by all creatures for ever, it is grieved

to see in itself reasons for deserving to be cast out by Him for Whom

it has such great love and desire.

__________________________________________________________________

[126] Job xvi, 13-17 [A.V., xvi, 12-16].

[127] Lamentations iii, 1-20.

[128] Job xii, 22.

[129] Psalm cxxxviii, 12 [A.V., cxxxix, 12].

[130] [Lit., like to the dead of the world (or of the age).']

[131] Psalm cxlii, 3 [A.V., cxliii, 3-4].

[132] Psalm xxix, 7 [A.V., xxx, 6].

[133] [Lit., and play his tricks upon it.']

[134] B. Bz., C, H. Mtr. all have this long passage on the suffering of

the soul in Purgatory. It would be rash, therefore, to deny that St.

John of the Cross is its author, [or to suppose, as P. Gerardo did,

that he deleted it during a revision of his works]. An admirably

constructed synthesis of these questions will be found in B. Belarmino,

De Purgatorio, Bk. II, chaps. iv, v. He asks if souls in Purgatory are

sure of their salvation. This was denied by Luther, and by a number of

Catholic writers, who held that, among the afflictions of these souls,

the greatest is this very uncertainty, some maintain that, though they

have in fact such certainty, they are unaware of it. Belarmino quotes

among other authorities Denis the Carthusian De quattuor novissimis,

Gerson (Lect. I De Vita Spirituali) and John of Rochester (against

Luther's 32nd article); these writers claim that, as sin which is

venial is only so through the Divine mercy, it may with perfect justice

be rewarded by eternal punishment, and thus souls that have committed

venial sin cannot be confident of their salvation. He also shows,

however, that the common opinion of theologians is that the souls in

Purgatory are sure of their salvation, and considers various degrees of

certainty, adding very truly that, while these souls experience no

fear, they experience hope, since they have not yet the Beatific

vision. Uncertainty as to their salvation, it is said, might arise from

ignorance of the sentence passed upon them by the Judge or from the

deadening of their faculties by the torments which they are suffering.

Belarmino refutes these and other suppositions with great force and

effect. St. John of the Cross seems to be referring to the last named

when he writes of the realization of their afflictions and their

deprivation of God not allowing them to enjoy the blessings of the

theological virtues. It is not surprising if the Saint, not having

examined very closely this question, of which he would have read

treatments in various authors, thought of it principally as an apt

illustration of the purifying and refining effects of passive

purgation; and an apt illustration it certainly is.

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER VIII

Of other pains which afflict the soul in this state.

BUT there is another thing here that afflicts and distresses the soul

greatly, which is that, as this dark night has hindered its faculties

and affections in this way, it is unable to raise its affection or its

mind to God, neither can it pray to Him, thinking, as Jeremias thought

concerning himself, that God has set a cloud before it through which

its prayer cannot pass. [135] For it is this that is meant by that

which is said in the passage referred to, namely: ' He hath shut and

enclosed my paths with square stones.' [136] And if it sometimes prays

it does so with such lack of strength and of sweetness that it thinks

that God neither hears it nor pays heed to it, as this Prophet likewise

declares in the same passage, saying: When I cry and entreat, He hath

shut out my prayer.' [137] In truth this is no time for the soul to

speak with God; it should rather put its mouth in the dust, as Jeremias

says, so that perchance there may come to it some present hope, [138]

and it may endure its purgation with patience. It is God Who is

passively working here in the soul; wherefore the soul can do nothing.

Hence it can neither pray nor pay attention when it is present at the

Divine offices, [139] much less can it attend to other things and

affairs which are temporal. Not only so, but it has likewise such

distractions and times of such profound forgetfulness of the memory

that frequent periods pass by without its knowing what it has been

doing or thinking, or what it is that it is doing or is going to do,

neither can it pay attention, although it desire to do so, to anything

that occupies it.

2. Inasmuch as not only is the understanding here purged of its light,

and the will of its affections, but the memory is also purged of

meditation and knowledge, it is well that it be likewise annihilated

with respect to all these things, so that that which David says of

himself in this purgation may by fulfilled, namely: ' I was annihilated

and I knew not.' [140] This unknowing refers to these follies and

forgetfulnesses of the memory, which distractions and forgetfulnesses

are caused by the interior recollection wherein this contemplation

absorbs the soul. For, in order that the soul may be divinely prepared

and tempered with its faculties for the Divine union of love, it would

be well for it to be first of all absorbed, with all its faculties, in

this Divine and dark spiritual light of contemplation, and thus to be

withdrawn from all the affections and apprehensions of the creatures,

which condition ordinarily continues in proportion to its intensity.

And thus, the simpler and the purer is this Divine light in its assault

upon the soul, the more does it darken it, void it and annihilate it

according to its particular apprehensions and affections, with regard

both to things above and to things below; and similarly, the less

simple and pure is it in this assault, the less deprivation it causes

it and the less dark is it. Now this is a thing that seems incredible,

to say that, the brighter and purer is supernatural and Divine light,

the more it darkens the soul, and that, the less bright and pure is it,

the less dark it is to the soul. Yet this may readily be understood if

we consider what has been proved above by the dictum of the

philosopher--namely, that the brighter and the more manifest in

themselves are supernatural things the darker are they to our

understanding.

3. And, to the end that this may be understood the more clearly, we

shall here set down a similitude referring to common and natural light.

We observe that a ray of sunlight which enters through the window is

the less clearly visible according as it is the purer and freer from

specks, and the more of such specks and motes there are in the air, the

brighter is the light to the eye. The reason is that it is not the

light itself that is seen; the light is but the means whereby the other

things that it strikes are seen, and then it is also seen itself,

through its reflection in them; were it not for this, neither it nor

they would have been seen. Thus if the ray of sunlight entered through

the window of one room and passed out through another on the other

side, traversing the room, and if it met nothing on the way, or if

there were no specks in the air for it to strike, the room would have

no more light than before, neither would the ray of light be visible.

In fact, if we consider it carefully, there is more darkness where the

ray is, since it absorbs and obscures any other light, and yet it is

itself invisible, because, as we have said, there are no visible

objects which it can strike.

4. Now this is precisely what this Divine ray of contemplation does in

the soul. Assailing it with its Divine light, it transcends the natural

power of the soul, and herein it darkens it and deprives it of all

natural affections and apprehensions which it apprehended aforetime by

means of natural light; and thus it leaves it not only dark, but

likewise empty, according to its faculties and desires, both spiritual

and natural. And, by thus leaving it empty and in darkness, it purges

and illumines it with Divine spiritual light, although the soul thinks

not that it has this light, but believes itself to be in darkness, even

as we have said of the ray of light, which although it be in the midst

of the room, yet, if it be pure and meet nothing on its path, is not

visible. With regard, however, to this spiritual light by which the

soul is assailed, when it has something to strike--that is, when

something spiritual presents itself to be understood, however small a

speck it be and whether of perfection or imperfection, or whether it be

a judgment of the falsehood or the truth of a thing--it then sees and

understands much more clearly than before it was in these dark places.

And exactly in the same way it discerns the spiritual light which it

has in order that it may readily discern the imperfection which is

presented to it; even as, when the ray of which we have spoken, within

the room, is dark and not itself visible, if one introduce a hand or

any other thing into its path, the hand is then seen and it is realized

that that sunlight is present.

5. Wherefore, since this spiritual light is so simple, pure and

general, not appropriated or restricted to any particular thing that

can be understood, whether natural or Divine (since with respect to all

these apprehensions the faculties of the soul are empty and

annihilated), it follows that with great comprehensiveness and

readiness the soul discerns and penetrates whatsoever thing presents

itself to it, whether it come from above or from below; for which cause

the Apostle said: That the spiritual man searches all things, even the

deep things of God. [141] For by this general and simple wisdom is

understood that which the Holy Spirit says through the Wise Man,

namely: That it reaches wheresoever it wills by reason of its purity;

[142] that is to say, because it is not restricted to any particular

object of the intellect or affection. And this is the characteristic of

the spirit that is purged and annihilated with respect to all

particular affections and objects of the understanding, that in this

state wherein it has pleasure in nothing and understands nothing in

particular, but dwells in its emptiness, darkness and obscurity, it is

fully prepared to embrace everything to the end that those words of

Saint Paul may be fulfilled in it: Nihil habentes, et omnia

possidentes. [143] For such poverty of spirit as this would deserve

such happiness.

__________________________________________________________________

[135] Lamentations iii, 44.

[136] [Lamentations iii, 9.]

[137] Lamentations iii, 9.

[138] Lamentations iii, 28.

[139] [Lit., at the Divine things.']

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

[141] 1 Corinthians ii, 10. [Lit., penetrates all things.']

[142] Wisdom vii, 24.

[143] 2 Corinthians vi, 10.

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER IX

How, although this night brings darkness to the spirit, it does so

in order to illumine it and give it light.

IT now remains to be said that, although this happy night brings

darkness to the spirit, it does so only to give it light in everything;

and that, although it humbles it and makes it miserable, it does so

only to exalt it and to raise it up; and, although it impoverishes it

and empties it of all natural affection and attachment, it does so only

that it may enable it to stretch forward, divinely, and thus to have

fruition and experience of all things, both above and below, yet to

preserve its unrestricted liberty of spirit in them all. For just as

the elements, in order that they may have a part in all natural

entities and compounds, must have no particular colour, odour or taste,

so as to be able to combine with all tastes odours and colours, just so

must the spirit be simple, pure and detached from all kinds of natural

affection, whether actual or habitual, to the end that it may be able

freely to share in the breadth of spirit of the Divine Wisdom, wherein,

through its purity, it has experience of all the sweetness of all

things in a certain pre-eminently excellent way. [144] And without this

purgation it will be wholly unable to feel or experience the

satisfaction of all this abundance of spiritual sweetness. For one

single affection remaining in the spirit, or one particular thing to

which, actually or habitually, it clings, suffices to hinder it from

feeling or experiencing or communicating the delicacy and intimate

sweetness of the spirit of love, which contains within itself all

sweetness to a most eminent degree. [145]

2. For, even as the children of Israel, solely because they retained

one single affection and remembrance--namely, with respect to the

fleshpots and the meals which they had tasted in Egypt [146] --could

not relish the delicate bread of angels, in the desert, which was the

manna, which, as the Divine Scripture says, held sweetness for every

taste and turned to the taste that each one desired; [147] even so the

spirit cannot succeed in enjoying the delights of the spirit of

liberty, according to the desire of the will, if it be still

affectioned to any desire, whether actual or habitual, or to particular

objects of understanding, or to any other apprehension. The reason for

this is that the affections, feelings and apprehensions of the perfect

spirit, being Divine, are of another kind and of a very different order

from those that are natural. They are pre-eminent, so that, in order

both actually and habitually to possess the one, it is needful to expel

and annihilate the other, as with two contrary things, which cannot

exist together in one person. Therefore it is most fitting and

necessary, if the soul is to pass to these great things, that this dark

night of contemplation should first of all annihilate and undo it in

its meannesses, bringing it into darkness, aridity, affliction and

emptiness; for the light which is to be given to it is a Divine light

of the highest kind, which transcends all natural light, and which by

nature can find no place in the understanding.

3. And thus it is fitting that, if the understanding is to be united

with that light and become Divine in the state of perfection, it should

first of all be purged and annihilated as to its natural light, and, by

means of this dark contemplation, be brought actually into darkness.

This darkness should continue for as long as is needful in order to

expel and annihilate the habit which the soul has long since formed in

its manner of understanding, and the Divine light and illumination will

then take its place. And thus, inasmuch as that power of understanding

which it had aforetime is natural, it follows that the darkness which

it here suffers is profound and horrible and most painful, for this

darkness, being felt in the deepest substance of the spirit, seems to

be substantial darkness. Similarly, since the affection of love which

is to be given to it in the Divine union of love is Divine, and

therefore very spiritual, subtle and delicate, and very intimate,

transcending every affection and feeling of the will, and every desire

thereof, it is fitting that, in order that the will may be able to

attain to this Divine affection and most lofty delight, and to feel it

and experience it through the union of love, since it is not, in the

way of nature, perceptible to the will, it be first of all purged and

annihilated in all its affections and feelings, and left in a condition

of aridity and constraint, proportionate to the habit of natural

affections which it had before, with respect both to Divine things and

to human. Thus, being exhausted, withered and thoroughly tried in the

fire of this dark contemplation, and having driven away every kind

[148] of evil spirit (as with the heart of the fish which Tobias set on

the coals [149] ), it may have a simple and pure disposition, and its

palate may be purged and healthy, so that it may feel the rare and

sublime touches of Divine love, wherein it will see itself divinely

transformed, and all the contrarieties, whether actual or habitual,

which it had aforetime, will be expelled, as we are saying.

4. Moreover, in order to attain the said union to which this dark night

is disposing and leading it, the soul must be filled and endowed with a

certain glorious magnificence in its communion with God, which includes

within itself innumerable blessings springing from delights which

exceed all the abundance that the soul can naturally possess. For by

nature the soul is so weak and impure that it cannot receive all this.

As Isaias says: Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it

entered into the heart of man, that which God hath prepared, etc.'

[150] It is meet, then, that the soul be first of all brought into

emptiness and poverty of spirit and purged from all help, consolation

and natural apprehension with respect to all things, both above and

below. In this way, being empty, it is able indeed to be poor in spirit

and freed from the old man, in order to live that new and blessed life

which is attained by means of this night, and which is the state of

union with God.

5. And because the soul is to attain to the possession of a sense, and

of a Divine knowledge, which is very generous and full of sweetness,

with respect to things Divine and human, which fall not within the

common experience and natural knowledge of the soul (because it looks

on them with eyes as different from those of the past as spirit is

different from sense and the Divine from the human), the spirit must be

straitened [151] and inured to hardships as regards its common and

natural experience, and be brought by means of this purgative

contemplation into great anguish and affliction, and the memory must be

borne far from all agreeable and peaceful knowledge, and have an

intimated sense and feeling that it is making a pilgrimage and being a

stranger to all things, so that it seems to it that all things are

strange and of a different kind from that which they were wont to be.

For this night is gradually drawing the spirit away from its ordinary

and common experience of things and bringing it nearer the Divine

sense, which is a stranger and an alien to all human ways. It seems now

to the soul that it is going forth from its very self, with much

affliction. At other times it wonders if it is under a charm or a

spell, and it goes about marvelling at the things that it sees and

hears, which seem to it very strange and rare, though they are the same

that it was accustomed to experience aforetime. The reason of this is

that the soul is now becoming alien and remote from common sense and

knowledge of things, in order that, being annihilated in this respect,

it may be informed with the Divine--which belongs rather to the next

life than to this.

6. The soul suffers all these afflictive purgations of the spirit to

the end that it may be begotten anew in spiritual life by means of this

Divine inflowing, and in these pangs may bring forth the spirit of

salvation, that the saying of Isaias may be fulfilled: In Thy sight, O

Lord, we have conceived, and we have been as in the pangs of labour,

and we have brought forth the spirit of salvation.' [152] Moreover,

since by means of this contemplative night the soul is prepared for the

attainment of inward peace and tranquillity, which is of such a kind

and so delectable that, as the Scripture says, it passes all

understanding, [153] it behoves the soul to abandon all its former

peace. This was in reality no peace at all, since it was involved in

imperfections; but to the soul aforementioned it appeared to be so,

because it was following its own inclinations, which were for peace. It

seemed, indeed, to be a twofold peace--that is, the soul believed that

it had already acquired the peace of sense and that of spirit, for it

found itself to be full of the spiritual abundance of this peace of

sense and of spirit--as I say, it is still imperfect. First of all,

then, it must be purged of that former peace and disquieted concerning

it and withdrawn from it. [154] Even so was Jeremias when, in the

passage which we quoted from him, he felt and lamented [155] thus, in

order to express the calamities of this night that is past, saying: My

soul is withdrawn and removed from peace.' [156]

7. This is a painful disturbance, involving many misgivings,

imaginings, and strivings which the soul has within itself, wherein,

with the apprehension and realization of the miseries in which it sees

itself, it fancies that it is lost and that its blessings have gone for

ever. Wherefore the spirit experiences pain and sighing so deep that

they cause it vehement spiritual groans and cries, to which at times it

gives vocal expression; when it has the necessary strength and power it

dissolves into tears, although this relief comes but seldom. David

describes this very aptly, in a Psalm, as one who has had experience of

it, where he says: I was exceedingly afflicted and humbled; I roared

with the groaning of my heart.' [157] This roaring implies great pain;

for at times, with the sudden and acute remembrance of these miseries

wherein the soul sees itself, pain and affliction rise up and surround

it, and I know not how the affections of the soul could be described

[158] save in the similitude of holy Job, when he was in the same

trials, and uttered these words: Even as the overflowing of the waters,

even so is my roaring.' [159] For just as at times the waters make such

inundations that they overwhelm and fill everything, so at times this

roaring and this affliction of the soul grow to such an extent that

they overwhelm it and penetrate it completely, filling it with

spiritual pain and anguish in all its deep affections and energies, to

an extent surpassing all possibility of exaggeration.

8. Such is the work wrought in the soul by this night that hides the

hopes of the light of day. With regard to this the prophet Job says

likewise: In the night my mouth is pierced with sorrows and they that

feed upon me sleep not.' [160] Now here by the mouth is understood the

will, which is transpierced with these pains that tear the soul to

pieces, neither ceasing nor sleeping, for the doubts and misgivings

which transpierce the soul in this way never cease.

9. Deep is this warfare and this striving, for the peace which the soul

hopes for will be very deep; and the spiritual pain is intimate and

delicate, for the love which it will possess will likewise be very

intimate and refined. The more intimate and the more perfect the

finished work is to be and to remain, the more intimate, perfect and

pure must be the labour; the firmer the edifice, the harder the labour.

Wherefore, as Job says, the soul is fading within itself, and its

vitals are being consumed without any hope. [161] Similarly, because in

the state of perfection toward which it journeys by means of this

purgative night the soul will attain to the possession and fruition of

innumerable blessings, of gifts and virtues, both according to the

substance of the soul and likewise according to its faculties, it must

needs see and feel itself withdrawn from them all and deprived of them

all and be empty and poor without them; and it must needs believe

itself to be so far from them that it cannot persuade itself that it

will ever reach them, but rather it must be convinced that all its good

things are over. The words of Jeremias have a similar meaning in that

passage already quoted, where he says: I have forgotten good things.'

[162]

10. But let us now see the reason why this light of contemplation,

which is so sweet and blessed to the soul that there is naught more

desirable (for, as has been said above, it is the same wherewith the

soul must be united and wherein it must find all the good things in the

state of perfection that it desires), produces, when it assails the

soul, these beginnings which are so painful and these effects which are

so disagreeable, as we have here said.

1l. This question is easy for us to answer, by explaining, as we have

already done in part, that the cause of this is that, in contemplation

and the Divine inflowing, there is naught that of itself can cause

affliction, but that they rather cause great sweetness and delight, as

we shall say hereafter. The cause is rather the weakness and

imperfection from which the soul then suffers, and the dispositions

which it has in itself and which make it unfit for the reception of

them. Wherefore, when the said Divine light assails the soul, it must

needs cause it to suffer after the manner aforesaid.

__________________________________________________________________

[144] [Lit., with a certain eminence of excellence.']

[145] [Lit., . . . sweetness, with great eminence.']

[146] Exodus xvi, 3.

[147] Wisdom xvi, 21.

[148] [Lit., from every kind.' But see Tobias viii, 2. The deprived' of

e.p. gives the best reading of this phrase, but the general sense is

clear from the Scriptural reference.]

[149] Tobias viii, 2.

[150] Isaias lxiv, 4 [1 Corinthians ii, 9].

[151] [Lit., be made thin.']

[152] Isaias xxvi, 17-18.

[153] [Philippians iv, 7.]

[154] [We have here split up a parenthesis of about seventy words.]

[155] [Lit., and wept.']

[156] Lamentations iii, 17.

[157] Psalm xxxvii, 9 [A.V., xxxviii, 8].

[158] [Lit., . . . sees itself, it arises and is surrounded with pain

and affliction the affections of the soul, that I know not how it could

be described.' A confused, ungrammatical sentence, of which, however,

the general meaning is not doubtful.]

[159] Job iii, 24.

[160] Job xxx, 17.

[161] Job xxx, 16.

[162] Lamentations iii, 17.

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER X

Explains this purgation fully by a comparison.

FOR the greater clearness of what has been said, and of what has still

to be said, it is well to observe at this point that this purgative and

loving knowledge or Divine light whereof we here speak acts upon the

soul which it is purging and preparing for perfect union with it in the

same way as fire acts upon a log of wood in order to transform it into

itself; for material fire, acting upon wood, first of all begins to dry

it, by driving out its moisture and causing it to shed the water which

it contains within itself. Then it begins to make it black, dark and

unsightly, and even to give forth a bad odour, and, as it dries it

little by little, it brings out and drives away all the dark and

unsightly accidents which are contrary to the nature of fire. And,

finally, it begins to kindle it externally and give it heat, and at

last transforms it into itself and makes it as beautiful as fire. In

this respect, the wood has neither passivity nor activity of its own,

save for its weight, which is greater, and its substance, which is

denser, than that of fire, for it has in itself the properties and

activities of fire. Thus it is dry and it dries; it is hot and heats;

it is bright and gives brightness; and it is much less heavy than

before. All these properties and effects are caused in it by the fire.

2. In this same way we have to philosophize with respect to this Divine

fire of contemplative love, which, before it unites and transforms the

soul in itself, first purges it of all its contrary accidents. It

drives out its unsightliness, and makes it black and dark, so that it

seems worse than before and more unsightly and abominable than it was

wont to be. For this Divine purgation is removing all the evil and

vicious humours which the soul has never perceived because they have

been so deeply rooted and grounded in it; it has never realized, in

fact, that it has had so much evil within itself. But now that they are

to be driven forth and annihilated, these humours reveal themselves,

and become visible to the soul because it is so brightly illumined by

this dark light of Divine contemplation (although it is no worse than

before, either in itself or in relation to God); and, as it sees in

itself that which it saw not before, it is clear to it that not only is

it unfit to be seen by God, but deserves His abhorrence, and that He

does indeed abhor it. By this comparison we can now understand many

things concerning what we are saying and purpose to say.

3. First, we can understand how the very light and the loving wisdom

which are to be united with the soul and to transform it are the same

that at the beginning purge and prepare it: even as the very fire which

transforms the log of wood into itself, and makes it part of itself, is

that which at the first was preparing it for that same purpose.

4. Secondly, we shall be able to see how these afflictions are not felt

by the soul as coming from the said Wisdom, since, as the Wise Man

says, all good things together come to the soul with her. [163] They

are felt as coming from the weakness and imperfection which belong to

the soul; without such purgation, the soul cannot receive its Divine

light, sweetness and delight, even as the log of wood, when the fire

acts upon it, cannot immediately be transformed until it be made ready;

wherefore the soul is greatly afflicted. This statement is fully

supported by the Preacher, where he describes all that he suffered in

order that he might attain to union with wisdom and to the fruition of

it, saying thus: My soul hath wrestled with her and my bowels were

moved in acquiring her; therefore it shall possess a good possession.'

[164]

5. Thirdly, we can learn here incidentally in what manner souls are

afflicted in purgatory. For the fire would have no power over them,

even though they came into contact with it, if they had no

imperfections for which to suffers. These are the material upon which

the fire of purgatory seizes; when that material is consumed there is

naught else that can burn. So here, when the imperfections are

consumed, the affliction of the soul ceases and its fruition remains.

6. The fourth thing that we shall learn here is the manner wherein the

soul, as it becomes purged and purified by means of this fire of love,

becomes ever more enkindled in love, just as the wood grows hotter in

proportion as it becomes the better prepared by the fire. This

enkindling of love, however, is not always felt by the soul, but only

at times when contemplation assails it less vehemently, for then it has

occasion to see, and even to enjoy, the work which is being wrought in

it, and which is then revealed to it. For it seems that the worker

takes his hand from the work, and draws the iron out of the furnace, in

order that something of the work which is being done may be seen; and

then there is occasion for the soul to observe in itself the good which

it saw not while the work was going on. In the same way, when the flame

ceases to attack the wood, it is possible to see how much of it has

been enkindled.

7. Fifthly, we shall also learn from this comparison what has been said

above--namely, how true it is that after each of these periods of

relief the soul suffers once again, more intensely and keenly than

before. For, after that revelation just referred to has been made, and

after the more outward imperfections of the soul have been purified,

the fire of love once again attacks that which has yet to be consumed

and purified more inwardly. The suffering of the soul now becomes more

intimate, subtle and spiritual, in proportion as the fire refines away

the finer, [165] more intimate and more spiritual imperfections, and

those which are most deeply rooted in its inmost parts. And it is here

just as with the wood, upon which the fire, when it begins to penetrate

it more deeply, acts with more force and vehemence [166] in preparing

its most inward part to possess it.

8. Sixthly, we shall likewise learn here the reason why it seems to the

soul that all its good is over, and that it is full of evil, since

naught comes to it at this time but bitterness; it is like the burning

wood, which is touched by no air nor by aught else than by consuming

fire. But, when there occur other periods of relief like the first, the

rejoicing of the soul will be more interior because the purification

has been more interior also.

9. Seventhly, we shall learn that, although the soul has the most ample

joy at these periods (so much so that, as we said, it sometimes thinks

that its trials can never return again, although it is certain that

they will return quickly), it cannot fail to realize, if it is aware

(and at times it is made aware) of a root of imperfection which

remains, that its joy is incomplete, because a new assault seems to be

threatening it; [167] when this is so, the trial returns quickly.

Finally, that which still remains to be purged and enlightened most

inwardly cannot well be concealed from the soul in view of its

experience of its former purification; [168] even as also in the wood

it is the most inward part that remains longest unkindled, [169] and

the difference between it and that which has already been purged is

clearly perceptible; and, when this purification once more assails it

most inwardly, it is no wonder if it seems to the soul once more that

all its good is gone, and that it never expects to experience it again,

for, now that it has been plunged into these most inward sufferings,

all good coming from without is over. [170]

10. Keeping this comparison, then, before our eyes, together with what

has already been said upon the first line of the first stanza

concerning this dark night and its terrible properties, it will be well

to leave these sad experiences of the soul and to begin to speak of the

fruit of its tears and their blessed properties, whereof the soul

begins to sing from this second line:

Kindled in love [171] with yearnings,

__________________________________________________________________

[163] Wisdom vii, 11.

[164] Ecclesiasticus li, 28-9 [A.V., li, 19-21].

[165] [Lit., more delicate.']

[166] [Lit., fury.']

[167] [The sudden change of metaphor is the author's. The assault' is,

of course, the renewed growth of the root.']

[168] [Lit., . . . from the soul, with regard to that which has already

been purified.']

[169] [Lit., not enlightened': the word is the same as that used just

above.]

[170] [The word translated over' is rendered gone' just above.]

[171] [Lit., in loves'; and so throughout the exposition of this line.]

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XI

Begins to explain the second line of the first stanza.

Describes how, as the fruit of these rigorous constraints, the soul

finds itself with the vehement passion of Divine love.

IN this line the soul describes the fire of love which, as we have

said, like the material fire acting upon the wood, begins to take hold

upon the soul in this night of painful contemplation. This enkindling

now described, although in a certain way it resembles that which we

described above as coming to pass in the sensual part of the soul, is

in some ways as different from that other as is the soul from the body,

or the spiritual part from the sensual. For this present kind is an

enkindling of spiritual love in the soul, which, in the midst of these

dark confines, feels itself to be keenly and sharply wounded in strong

Divine love, and to have a certain realization and foretaste of God,

although it understands nothing definitely, for, as we say, the

understanding is in darkness.

2. The spirit feels itself here to be deeply and passionately in love,

for this spiritual enkindling produces the passion of love. And,

inasmuch as this love is infused, it is passive rather than active, and

thus it begets in the soul a strong passion of love. This love has in

it something of union with God, and thus to some degree partakes of its

properties, which are actions of God rather than of the soul, these

being subdued within it passively. What the soul does here is to give

its consent; the warmth and strength and temper and passion of love--or

enkindling, as the soul here calls it--belong [172] only to the love of

God, which enters increasingly into union with it. This love finds in

the soul more occasion and preparation to unite itself with it and to

wound it, according as all the soul's desires are the more recollected,

[173] and are the more withdrawn from and disabled for the enjoyment of

aught either in Heaven or in earth.

3. This takes place to a great extent, as has already been said, in

this dark purgation, for God has so weaned all the inclinations and

caused them to be so recollected [174] that they cannot find pleasure

in anything they may wish. All this is done by God to the end that,

when He withdraws them and recollects them in Himself, the soul may

have more strength and fitness to receive this strong union of love of

God, which He is now beginning to give it through this purgative way,

wherein the soul must love with great strength and with all its desires

and powers both of spirit and of sense; which could not be if they were

dispersed in the enjoyment of aught else. For this reason David said to

God, to the end that he might receive the strength of the love of this

union with God: I will keep my strength for Thee;' [175] that is, I

will keep the entire capacity and all the desires and energies of my

faculties, nor will I employ their operation or pleasure in aught else

than Thyself.

4. In this way it can be realized in some measure how great and how

strong may be this enkindling of love in the spirit, wherein God keeps

in recollection all the energies, faculties and desires of the soul,

both of spirit and of sense, so that all this harmony may employ its

energies and virtues in this love, and may thus attain to a true

fulfilment of the first commandment, which sets aside nothing

pertaining to man nor excludes from this love anything that is his, but

says: Thou shalt love thy God with all thy heart and with all thy mind,

with all thy soul and with all thy strength.' [176]

5. When all the desires and energies of the soul, then, have been

recollected in this enkindling of love, and when the soul itself has

been touched and wounded in them all, and has been inspired with

passion, what shall we understand the movements and digressions of all

these energies and desires to be, if they find themselves enkindled and

wounded with strong love and without the possession and satisfaction

thereof, in darkness and doubt? They will doubtless be suffering

hunger, like the dogs of which David speaks as running about the city

[177] ; finding no satisfaction in this love, they keep howling and

groaning. For the touch of this love and Divine fire dries up the

spirit and enkindles its desires, in order to satisfy its thirst for

this Divine love, so much so that it turns upon itself a thousand times

and desires God in a thousand ways and manners, with the eagerness and

desire of the appetite. This is very well explained by David in a

psalm, where he says: My soul thirsted for Thee: in how many manners

does my soul long for Thee!' [178] --that is, in desires. And another

version reads: My soul thirsted for Thee, my soul is lost (or perishes)

for Thee.'

6. It is for this reason that the soul says in this line that it was

kindled in love with yearnings.' [179] For in all the things and

thoughts that it revolves within itself, and in all the affairs and

matters that present themselves to it, it loves in many ways, and also

desires and suffers in the desire in many ways, at all times and in all

places, finding rest in naught, and feeling this yearning in its

enkindled wound, even as the prophet Job declares, saying: As the hart

[180] desireth the shadow, and as the hireling desireth the end of his

work, so I also had vain months and numbered to myself wearisome and

laborious nights. If I lie down to sleep, I shall say: "When shall I

arise?" And then I shall await the evening and shall be full of sorrows

even until the darkness of night.' [181] Everything becomes cramping to

this soul: it cannot live [182] within itself; it cannot live either in

Heaven or on earth; and it is filled with griefs until the darkness

comes to which Job here refers, speaking spiritually and in the sense

of our interpretation. What the soul here endures is afflictions and

suffering without the consolation of a certain hope of any light and

spiritual good. Wherefore the yearning and the grief of this soul in

this enkindling of love are greater because it is multiplied in two

ways: first, by the spiritual darkness wherein it finds itself, which

afflicts it with its doubts and misgivings; and then by the love of

God, which enkindles and stimulates it, and, with its loving wound,

causes it a wondrous fear. These two kinds of suffering at such a

season are well described by Isaias, where he says: My soul desired

Thee in the night' [183] --that is, in misery.

7. This is one kind of suffering which proceeds from this dark night;

but, he goes on to say, with my spirit, in my bowels, until the

morning, I will watch for Thee. And this is the second way of grieving

in desire and yearning which comes from love in the bowels of the

spirit, which are the spiritual affections. But in the midst of these

dark and loving afflictions the soul feels within itself a certain

companionship and strength, which bears it company and so greatly

strengthens it that, if this burden of grievous darkness be taken away,

it often feels itself to be alone, empty and weak. The cause of this is

that, as the strength and efficacy of the soul were derived and

communicated passively from the dark fire of love which assailed it, it

follows that, when that fire ceases to assail it, the darkness and

power and heat of love cease in the soul.

__________________________________________________________________

[172] [Lit., cling,' adhere.']

[173] [Lit., 'shut up.']

[174] [Here, and below, the original has recogidos, the word normally

translated recollected']

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

[176] Deuteronomy vi, 5.

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

[178] Psalm lxii, 2 [A.V., lxiii, 1].

[179] [Lit., as in the verses, in loves.']

[180] [For cievro, hart, read siervo, servant, and we have the correct

quotation from Scripture. The change, however, was evidently made by

the Saint knowingly. In P. Gerardo's edition, the Latin text, with

cervus, precedes the Spanish translation, with ciervo.]

[181] Job vii, 2-4.

[182] [No cabe: Lit., it cannot be contained,' there is no room for

it.']

[183] Isaias xxvi, 9.

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XII

Shows how this horrible night is purgatory, and how in it the Divine

wisdom illumines men on earth with the same illumination that purges

and illumines the angels in Heaven.

FROM what has been said we shall be able to see how this dark night of

loving fire, as it purges in the darkness, so also in the darkness

enkindles the soul. We shall likewise be able to see that, even as

spirits are purged in the next life with dark material fire, so in this

life they are purged and cleansed with the dark spiritual fire of love.

The difference is that in the next life they are cleansed with fire,

while here below they are cleansed and illumined with love only. It was

this love that David entreated, when he said: Cor mundum crea in me,

Deus, etc. [184] For cleanness of heart is nothing less than the love

and grace of God. For the clean of heart are called by our Saviour

blessed'; which is as if He had called them enkindled with love', [185]

since blessedness is given by nothing less than love.

2. And Jeremias well shows how the soul is purged when it is illumined

with this fire of loving wisdom (for God never grants mystical wisdom

without love, since love itself infuses it), where he says: He hath

sent fire into my bones, and hath taught me.' [186] And David says that

the wisdom of God is silver tried in fire [187] --that is, in purgative

fire of love. For this dark contemplation infuses into the soul love

and wisdom jointly, to each one according to his capacity and need,

enlightening the soul and purging it, in the words of the Wise Man,

from its ignorances, as he said was done to himself.

3. From this we shall also infer that the very wisdom of God which

purges these souls and illumines them purges the angels from their

ignorances, giving them knowledge, enlightening them as to that which

they knew not, and flowing down from God through the first hierarchies

even to the last, and thence to men. [188] All the works, therefore,

which are done by the angels, and all their inspirations, are said in

the Scriptures, with truth and propriety, to be the work of God and of

themselves; for ordinarily these inspirations come through the angels,

and they receive them likewise one from another without any delay--as

quickly as a ray of sunshine is communicated through many windows

arranged in order. For although it is true that the sun's ray itself

passes through them all, still each one passes it on and infuses it

into the next, in a modified form, according to the nature of the

glass, and with rather more or rather less power and brightness,

according as it is nearer to the sun or farther from it.

4. Hence it follows that, the nearer to God are the higher spirits and

the lower, the more completely are they purged and enlightened with

more general purification; and that the lowest of them will receive

this illumination very much less powerfully and more remotely. Hence it

follows that man, who is the lowest of all those to whom this loving

contemplation flows down continually from God, will, when God desires

to give it him, receive it perforce after his own manner in a very

limited way and with great pain. For, when the light of God illumines

an angel, it enlightens him and enkindles [189] him in love, since,

being pure spirit, he is prepared for that infusion. But, when it

illumines man, who is impure and weak, it illumines him, as has been

said above, according to his nature. It plunges him into darkness and

causes him affliction and distress, as does the sun to the eye that is

weak; [190] it enkindles him with passionate yet afflictive love, until

he be spiritualized and refined by this same fire of love; and it

purifies him until he can receive with sweetness the union of this

loving infusion after the manner of the angels, being now purged, as by

the help of the Lord we shall explain later. But meanwhile he receives

this contemplation and loving knowledge in the constraint and yearning

of love of which we are here speaking.

5. This enkindling and yearning of love are not always perceived by the

soul. For in the beginning, when this spiritual purgation commences,

all this Divine fire is used in drying up and making ready the wood

(which is the soul) rather than in giving it heat. But, as time goes

on, the fire begins to give heat to the soul, and the soul then very

commonly feels this enkindling and heat of love. Further, as the

understanding is being more and more purged by means of this darkness,

it sometimes comes to pass that this mystical and loving theology, as

well as enkindling the will, strikes and illumines the other faculty

also--that of the understanding--with a certain Divine light and

knowledge, so delectably and delicately that it aids the will to

conceive a marvellous fervour, and, without any action of its own,

there burns in it this Divine fire of love, in living flames, so that

it now appears to the soul a living fire by reason of the living

understanding which is given to it. It is of this that David speaks in

a Psalm, saying: My heart grew hot within me, and, as I meditated, a

certain fire was enkindled.' [191]

6. This enkindling of love, which accompanies the union of these two

faculties, the understanding and the will, which are here united, is

for the soul a thing of great richness and delight; for it is a certain

touch of the Divinity and is already the beginning [192] of the

perfection of the union of love for which it hopes. Now the soul

attains not to this touch of so sublime a sense and love of God, save

when it has passed through many trials and a great part of its

purgation. But for other touches which are much lower than these, and

which are of ordinary occurrence, so much purgation is not needful.

7. From what we have said it may here be inferred how in these

spiritual blessings, which are passively infused by God into the soul,

the will may very well love even though the understanding understand

not; and similarly the understanding may understand and the will love

not. For, since this dark night of contemplation consists of Divine

light and love, just as fire contains light and heat, it is not

unbefitting that, when this loving light is communicated, it should

strike the will at times more effectively by enkindling it with love

and leaving the understanding in darkness instead of striking it with

light; and, at other times, by enlightening it with light, and giving

it understanding, but leaving the will in aridity (as it is also true

that the heat of the fire can be received without the light being seen,

and also the light of it can be seen without the reception of heat);

and this is wrought by the Lord, Who infuses as He wills. [193]

__________________________________________________________________

[184] Psalm l, 12 [A.V., li, 10].

[185] [Lit., enamoured.']

[186] Lamentations i, 13.

[187] Psalm xi, 7 [A.V., xii, 6].

[188] The Schoolmen frequently assert that the lower angels are purged

and illumined by the higher. Cf. St. Thomas, Summa, I, q. 106, a. 1,

ad. 1.

[189] [Lit., and softens.']

[190] [More literally, is sick.']

[191] Psalm xxxviii, 4 [A.V., xxxix, 3].

[192] [Lit., the beginnings.']

[193] The Saint here treats a question often debated by philosophers

and mystics--that of love and knowledge. Cf. also Spiritual Canticle,

Stanza XVII, and Living Flame, Stanza III. Philosophers generally

maintain that it is impossible to love without knowledge, and equally

so to love more of an object than what is known of it. Mystics have,

however, their own solutions of the philosophers' difficulty and the

speculative Spanish mystics have much to say on the matter. (Cf., for

example, the Madula Mistica, Trat. V, Chap. iv, and the Escuela de

Oracian, Trat. XII, Duda v.)

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XIII

Of other delectable effects which are wrought in the soul by this

dark night of contemplation.

THIS type of enkindling will explain to us certain of the delectable

effects which this dark night of contemplation works in the soul. For

at certain times, as we have just said, the soul becomes enlightened in

the midst of all this darkness, and the light shines in the darkness;

[194] this mystical intelligence flows down into the understanding and

the will remains in dryness--I mean, without actual union of love, with

a serenity and simplicity which are so delicate and delectable to the

sense of the soul that no name can be given to them. Thus the presence

of God is felt, now after one manner, now after another.

2. Sometimes, too, as has been said, it wounds the will at the same

time, and enkindles love sublimely, tenderly and strongly; for we have

already said that at certain times these two faculties, the

understanding and the will, are united, when, the more they see, the

more perfect and delicate is the purgation of the understanding. But,

before this state is reached, it is more usual for the touch of the

enkindling of love to be felt in the will than for the touch of

intelligence to be felt in the understanding.

3. But one question arises here, which is this: Why, since these two

faculties are being purged together, are the enkindling and the love of

purgative contemplation at first more commonly felt in the will than

the intelligence thereof is felt in the understanding? To this it may

be answered that this passive love does not now directly strike the

will, for the will is free, and this enkindling of love is a passion of

love rather than the free act of the will; for this heat of love

strikes the substance of the soul and thus moves the affections

passively. And so this is called passion of love rather than a free act

of the will, an act of the will being so called only in so far as it is

free. But these passions and affections subdue the will, and therefore

it is said that, if the soul conceives passion with a certain

affection, the will conceives passion; and this is indeed so, for in

this manner the will is taken captive and loses its liberty, according

as the impetus and power of its passion carry it away. And therefore we

can say that this enkindling of love is in the will--that is, it

enkindles the desire of the will; and thus, as we say, this is called

passion of love rather than the free work of the will. And, because the

receptive passion of the understanding can receive intelligence only in

a detached and passive way (and this is impossible without its having

been purged), therefore until this happens the soul feels the touch of

intelligence less frequently than that of the passion of love. For it

is not necessary to this end that the will should be so completely

purged with respect to the passions, since these very passions help it

to feel impassioned love.

4. This enkindling and thirst of love, which in this case belongs to

the spirit, is very different from that other which we described in

writing of the night of sense. For, though the sense has also its part

here, since it fails not to participate in the labour of the spirit,

yet the source and the keenness of the thirst of love is felt in the

superior part of the soul--that is, in the spirit. It feels, and

understands what it feels and its lack of what it desires, in such a

way that all its affliction of sense, although greater without

comparison than in the first night of sense, is as naught to it,

because it recognizes within itself the lack of a great good which can

in no way be measured.

5. But here we must note that although, at the beginning, when this

spiritual night commences, this enkindling of love is not felt, because

this fire of love has not begun to take a hold, God gives the soul, in

place of it, an estimative love of Himself so great that, as we have

said, the greatest sufferings and trials of which it is conscious in

this night are the anguished thoughts that it [195] has lost God and

the fears that He has abandoned it. And thus we may always say that

from the very beginning of this night the soul is touched with

yearnings of love, which is now that of estimation, [196] and now

again, that of enkindling. And it is evident that the greatest

suffering which it feels in these trials is this misgiving; for, if it

could be certified at that time that all is not lost and over, but that

what is happening to it is for the best--as it is--and that God is not

wroth, it would care naught for all these afflictions, but would

rejoice to know that God is making use of them for His good pleasure.

For the love of estimation which it has for God is so great, even

though it may not realize this and may be in darkness, that it would be

glad, not only to suffer in this way, but even to die many times over

in order to give Him satisfaction. But when once the flame has

enkindled the soul, it is wont to conceive, together with the

estimation that it already has for God, such power and energy, and such

yearning for Him, when He communicates to it the heat of love, that,

with great boldness, it disregards everything and ceases to pay respect

to anything, such are the power and the inebriation of love and desire.

It regards not what it does, for it would do strange and unusual things

in whatever way and manner may present themselves, if thereby its soul

might find Him Whom it loves.

6. It was for this reason that Mary Magdalene, though as greatly

concerned for her own appearance as she was aforetime, took no heed of

the multitude of men who were at the feast, whether they were of little

or of great importance; neither did she consider that it was not

seemly, and that it looked ill, to go and weep and shed tears among the

guests provided that, without delaying an hour or waiting for another

time and season, she could reach Him for love of Whom her soul was

already wounded and enkindled. And such is the inebriating power and

the boldness of love, that, though she knew her Beloved to be enclosed

in the sepulchre by the great sealed stone, and surrounded by soldiers

who were guarding Him lest His disciples should steal Him away, [197]

she allowed none of these things to impede her, but went before

daybreak with the ointments to anoint Him.

7. And finally, this inebriating power and yearning of love caused her

to ask one whom she believed to be a gardener and to have stolen Him

away from the sepulchre, to tell her, if he had taken Him, where he had

laid Him, that she might take Him away; [198] considering not that such

a question, according to independent judgment and reason, was foolish;

for it was evident that, if the other had stolen Him, he would not say

so, still less would he allow Him to be taken away. It is a

characteristic of the power and vehemence of love that all things seem

possible to it, and it believes all men to be of the same mind as

itself. For it thinks that there is naught wherein one may be employed,

or which one may seek, save that which it seeks itself and that which

it loves; and it believes that there is naught else to be desired, and

naught wherein it may be employed, save that one thing, which is

pursued by all. For this reason, when the Bride went out to seek her

Beloved, through streets and squares, [199] thinking that all others

were doing the same, she begged them that, if they found Him, they

would speak to Him and say that she was pining for love of Him. [200]

Such was the power of the love of this Mary that she thought that, if

the gardener would tell her where he had hidden Him, she would go and

take Him away, however difficult it might be made for her.

8. Of this manner, then, are the yearnings of love whereof this soul

becomes conscious when it has made some progress in this spiritual

purgation. For it rises up by night (that is, in this purgative

darkness) according to the affections of the will. And with the

yearnings and vehemence of the lioness or the she-bear going to seek

her cubs when they have been taken away from her and she finds them

not, does this wounded soul go forth to seek its God. For, being in

darkness, it feels itself to be without Him and to be dying of love for

Him. And this is that impatient love wherein the soul cannot long

subsist without gaining its desire or dying. Such was Rachel's desire

for children when she said to Jacob: Give me children, else shall I

die.' [201]

9. But we have now to see how it is that the soul which feels itself so

miserable and so unworthy of God, here in this purgative darkness, has

nevertheless strength, and is sufficiently bold and daring, to journey

towards union with God. The reason is that, as love continually gives

it strength wherewith it may love indeed, and as the property of love

is to desire to be united, joined and made equal and like to the object

of its love, that it may perfect itself in love's good things, hence it

comes to pass that, when this soul is not perfected in love, through

not having as yet attained to union, the hunger and thirst that it has

for that which it lacks (which is union) and the strength set by love

in the will which has caused it to become impassioned, make it bold and

daring by reason of the enkindling of its will, although in its

understanding, which is still dark and unenlightened, it feels itself

to be unworthy and knows itself to be miserable.

10. I will not here omit to mention the reason why this Divine light,

which is always light to the soul, illumines it not as soon as it

strikes it, as it does afterwards, but causes it the darkness and the

trials of which we have spoken. Something has already been said

concerning this, but the question must now be answered directly. The

darkness and the other evils of which the soul is conscious when this

Divine light strikes it are not darkness or evils caused by this light,

but pertain to the soul itself, and the light illumines it so that it

may see them. Wherefore it does indeed receive light from this Divine

light; but the soul cannot see at first, by its aid, anything beyond

what is nearest to it, or rather, beyond what is within it--namely, its

darknesses or its miseries, which it now sees through the mercy of God,

and saw not aforetime, because this supernatural light illumined it

not. And this is the reason why at first it is conscious of nothing

beyond darkness and evil; after it has been purged, however, by means

of the knowledge and realization of these, it will have eyes to see, by

the guidance of this light, the blessings of the Divine light; and,

once all these darknesses and imperfections have been driven out from

the soul, it seems that the benefits and the great blessings which the

soul is gaining in this blessed night of contemplation become clearer.

11. From what has been said, it is clear that God grants the soul in

this state the favour of purging it and healing it with this strong lye

of bitter purgation, according to its spiritual and its sensual part,

of all the imperfect habits and affections which it had within itself

with respect to temporal things and to natural, sensual and spiritual

things, its inward faculties being darkened, and voided of all these,

its spiritual and sensual affections being constrained and dried up,

and its natural energies being attenuated and weakened with respect to

all this (a condition which it could never attain of itself, as we

shall shortly say). In this way God makes it to die to all that is not

naturally God, so that, once it is stripped and denuded of its former

skin, He may begin to clothe it anew. And thus its youth is renewed

like the eagle's and it is clothed with the new man, which, as the

Apostle says, is created according to God. [202] This is naught else

but His illumination of the understanding with supernatural light, so

that it is no more a human understanding but becomes Divine through

union with the Divine. In the same way the will is informed with Divine

love, so that it is a will that is now no less than Divine, nor does it

love otherwise than divinely, for it is made and united in one with the

Divine will and love. So, too, is it with the memory; and likewise the

affections and desires are all changed and converted divinely,

according to God. And thus this soul will now be a soul of heaven,

heavenly, and more Divine than human. All this, as we have been saying,

and because of what we have said, God continues to do and to work in

the soul by means of this night, illumining and enkindling it divinely

with yearnings for God alone and for naught else whatsoever. For which

cause the soul then very justly and reasonably adds the third line to

the song, which says:

. . . oh, happy chance!-- I went forth without being observed.

__________________________________________________________________

[194] St. John i, 5.

[195] [Lit., the yearning to think of it.']

[196] [The word translated estimation' might also be rendered '

reverent love.' The love of estimation,' which has its seat in the

understanding, is contrasted with the enkindling' or the love of

desire,' which has its seat in the will. So elsewhere in this

paragraph.]

[197] St. John xx, 1 [St. Matthew xxvii, 62-6].

[198] St. John xx, 15.

[199] [Lit., outskirts,' 'suburbs.']

[200] Canticles v, 8.

[201] Genesis xxx, 1.

[202] Ephesians iv, 4.

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XIV

Wherein are set down and explained the last three lines of the first

stanza.

THIS happy chance was the reason for which the soul speaks, in the next

lines, as follows:

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

It takes the metaphor from one who, in order the better to accomplish

something, leaves his house by night and in the dark, when those that

are in the house are now at rest, so that none may hinder him. For this

soul had to go forth to perform a deed so heroic and so rare--namely to

become united with its Divine Beloved--and it had to leave its house,

because the Beloved is not found save alone and without, in solitude.

It was for this reason that the Bride desired to find Him alone,

saying: ' Who would give Thee to me, my brother, that I might find Thee

alone, without, and that my love might be communicated to Thee.' [203]

It is needful for the enamoured soul, in order to attain to its desired

end, to do likewise, going forth at night, when all the domestics in

its house are sleeping and at rest--that is, when the low operations,

passions and desires of the soul (who are the people of the household)

are, because it is night, sleeping and at rest. When these are awake,

they invariably hinder the soul from seeking its good, since they are

opposed to its going forth in freedom. These are they of whom Our

Saviour speaks in the Gospel, saying that they are the enemies of man.

[204] And thus it would be meet that their operations and motions

should be put to sleep in this night, to the end that they may not

hinder the soul from attaining the supernatural blessings of the union

of love of God, for, while these are alive and active, this cannot be.

For all their work and their natural motions hinder, rather than aid,

the soul's reception of the spiritual blessings of the union of love,

inasmuch as all natural ability is impotent with respect to the

supernatural blessings that God, by means of His own infusion, bestows

upon the soul passively, secretly and in silence. And thus it is

needful that all the faculties should receive this infusion, and that,

in order to receive it, they should remain passive, and not interpose

their own base acts and vile inclinations.

2. It was a happy chance for this soul that on this night God should

put to sleep all the domestics in its house--that is, all the

faculties, passions, affections and desires which live in the soul,

both sensually and spiritually. For thus it went forth without being

observed'--that is, without being hindered by these affections, etc.,

for they were put to sleep and mortified in this night, in the darkness

of which they were left, that they might not notice or feel anything

after their own low and natural manner, and might thus be unable to

hinder the soul from going forth from itself and from the house of its

sensuality. And thus only could the soul attain to the spiritual union

of perfect love of God.

3. Oh, how happy a chance is this for the soul which can free itself

from the house of its sensuality! None can understand it, unless, as it

seems to me, it be the soul that has experienced it. For such a soul

will see clearly how wretched was the servitude in which it lay and to

how many miseries it was subject when it was at the mercy of its

faculties and desires, and will know how the life of the spirit is true

liberty and wealth, bringing with it inestimable blessings. Some of

these we shall point out, as we proceed, in the following stanzas,

wherein it will be seen more clearly what good reason the soul has to

sing of the happy chance of its passage from this dreadful night which

has been described above.

__________________________________________________________________

[203] Canticles viii, 1.

[204] St. Matthew x, 36.

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XV

Sets down the second stanza and its exposition.

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

chance!

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

IN this stanza the soul still continues to sing of certain properties

of the darkness of this night, reiterating how great is the happiness

which came to it through them. It speaks of them in replying to a

certain tacit objection, saying that it is not to be supposed that,

because in this night and darkness it has passed through so many

tempests of afflictions, doubts, fears and horrors, as has been said,

it has for that reason run any risk of being lost. On the contrary, it

says, in the darkness of this night it has gained itself. For in the

night it has freed itself and escaped subtly from its enemies, who were

continually hindering its progress. For in the darkness of the night it

changed its garments and disguised itself with three liveries and

colours which we shall describe hereafter; and went forth by a very

secret ladder, which none in the house knew, the which ladder, as we

shall observe likewise in the proper place, is living faith. By this

ladder the soul went forth in such complete hiding and concealment, in

order the better to execute its purpose, that it could not fail to be

in great security; above all since in this purgative night the desires,

affections and passions of the soul are put to sleep, mortified and

quenched, which are they that, when they were awake and alive,

consented not to this.

The first line, then, runs thus: [205]

In darkness and secure.

__________________________________________________________________

[205] [Lit., The line, then, continues, and says thus.' In fact,

however, the author is returning to the first line of the stanza.]

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XVI

Explains how, though in darkness, the soul walks securely.

THE darkness which the soul here describes relates, as we have said, to

the desires and faculties, sensual, interior and spiritual, for all

these are darkened in this night as to their natural light, so that,

being purged in this respect, they may be illumined with respect to the

supernatural. For the spiritual and the sensual desires are put to

sleep and mortified, so that they can experience [206] nothing, either

Divine or human; the affections of the soul are oppressed and

constrained, so that they can neither move nor find support in

anything; the imagination is bound and can make no useful reflection;

the memory is gone; the understanding is in darkness, unable to

understand anything; and hence the will likewise is arid and

constrained and all the faculties are void and useless; and in addition

to all this a thick and heavy cloud is upon the soul, keeping it in

affliction, and, as it were, far away from God. [207] It is in this

kind of darkness' that the soul says here it travelled 'securely.'

2. The reason for this has been clearly expounded; for ordinarily the

soul never strays save through its desires or its tastes or its

reflections or its understanding or its affections; for as a rule it

has too much or too little of these, or they vary or go astray, and

hence the soul becomes inclined to that which behoves it not.

Wherefore, when all these operations and motions are hindered, it is

clear that the soul is secure against being led astray by them; for it

is free, not only from itself, but likewise from its other enemies,

which are the world and the devil. For when the affections and

operations of the soul are quenched, these enemies cannot make war upon

it by any other means or in any other manner.

3. It follows from this that, the greater is the darkness wherein the

soul journeys and the more completely is it voided of its natural

operations, the greater is its security. For, as the Prophet says,

[208] perdition comes to the soul from itself alone--that is, from its

sensual and interior desires and operations; and good, says God, comes

from Me alone. Wherefore, when it is thus hindered from following the

things that lead it into evil, there will then come to it forthwith the

blessings of union with God in its desires and faculties, which in that

union He will make Divine and celestial. Hence, at the time of this

darkness, if the soul considers the matter, it will see very clearly

how little its desire and its faculties are being diverted to things

that are useless and harmful; and how secure it is from vainglory and

pride and presumption, vain and false rejoicing and many other things.

It follows clearly, then, that, by walking in darkness, not only is the

soul not lost, but it has even greatly gained, since it is here gaining

the virtues.

4. But there is a question which at once arises here--namely, since the

things of God are of themselves profitable to the soul and bring it

gain and security, why does God, in this night, darken the desires and

faculties with respect to these good things likewise, in such a way

that the soul can no more taste of them or busy itself with them than

with these other things, and indeed in some ways can do so less? The

answer is that it is well for the soul to perform no operation touching

spiritual things at that time and to have no pleasure in such things,

because its faculties and desires are base, impure and wholly natural;

and thus, although these faculties be given the desire and interest in

things supernatural and Divine, they could not receive them save after

a base and a natural manner, exactly in their own fashion. For, as the

philosopher says, whatsoever is received comes to him that receives it

after the manner of the recipient. Wherefore, since these natural

faculties have neither purity nor strength nor capacity to receive and

taste things that are supernatural after the manner of those things,

which manner is Divine, but can do so only after their own manner,

which is human and base, as we have said, it is meet that its faculties

be in darkness concerning these Divine things likewise. Thus, being

weaned and purged and annihilated in this respect first of all, they

may lose that base and human way of receiving and acting, and thus all

these faculties and desires of the soul may come to be prepared and

tempered in such a way as to be able to receive, feel and taste that

which is Divine and supernatural after a sublime and lofty manner,

which is impossible if the old man die not first of all.

5. Hence it follows that all spiritual things, if they come not from

above and be not communicated by the Father of lights to human desire

and free will (howsoever much a man may exercise his taste and

faculties for God, and howsoever much it may seem to the faculties that

they are experiencing these things), will not be experienced after a

Divine and spiritual manner, but after a human and natural manner, just

as other things are experienced, for spiritual blessings go not from

man to God, but come from God to man. With respect to this (if this

were the proper place for it) we might here explain how there are many

persons whose many tastes and affections and the operations of whose

faculties are fixed upon God or upon spiritual things, and who may

perhaps think that this is supernatural and spiritual, when it is

perhaps no more than the most human and natural desires and actions.

They regard these good things with the same disposition as they have

for other things, by means of a certain natural facility which they

possess for directing their desires and faculties to anything whatever.

6. If perchance we find occasion elsewhere in this book, we shall treat

of this, describing certain signs which indicate when the interior

actions and motions of the soul, with respect to communion with God,

are only natural, when they are spiritual, and when they are both

natural and spiritual. It suffices for us here to know that, in order

that the interior motions and acts of the soul may come to be moved by

God divinely, they must first be darkened and put to sleep and hushed

to rest naturally as touching all their capacity and operation, until

they have no more strength.

7. Therefore, O spiritual soul, when thou seest thy desire obscured,

thy affections arid and constrained, and thy faculties bereft of their

capacity for any interior exercise, be not afflicted by this, but

rather consider it a great happiness, since God is freeing thee from

thyself and taking the matter from thy hands. For with those hands,

howsoever well they may serve thee, thou wouldst never labour so

effectively, so perfectly and so securely (because of their clumsiness

and uncleanness) as now, when God takes thy hand and guides thee in the

darkness, as though thou wert blind, to an end and by a way which thou

knowest not. Nor couldst thou ever hope to travel with the aid of thine

own eyes and feet, howsoever good thou be as a walker.

8. The reason, again, why the soul not only travels securely, when it

travels thus in the darkness, but also achieves even greater gain and

progress, is that usually, when the soul is receiving fresh advantage

and profit, this comes by a way that it least understands--indeed, it

quite commonly believes that it is losing ground. For, as it has never

experienced that new feeling which drives it forth and dazzles it and

makes it depart recklessly from its former way of life, it thinks

itself to be losing ground rather than gaining and progressing, since

it sees that it is losing with respect to that which it knew and

enjoyed, and is going by a way which it knows not and wherein it finds

no enjoyment. It is like the traveller, who, in order to go to new and

unknown lands, takes new roads, unknown and untried, and journeys

unguided by his past experience, but doubtingly and according to what

others say. It is clear that such a man could not reach new countries,

or add to his past experience, if he went not along new and unknown

roads and abandoned those which were known to him. Exactly so, one who

is learning fresh details concerning any office or art always proceeds

in darkness, and receives no guidance from his original knowledge, for

if he left not that behind he would get no farther nor make any

progress; and in the same way, when the soul is making most progress,

it is travelling in darkness, knowing naught. Wherefore, since God, as

we have said, is the Master and Guide of this blind soul, it may well

and truly rejoice, once it has learned to understand this, and say: In

darkness and secure.'

9. There is another reason why the soul has walked securely in this

darkness, and this is because it has been suffering; for the road of

suffering is more secure and even more profitable than that of fruition

and action: first, because in suffering the strength of God is added to

that of man, while in action and fruition the soul is practising its

own weaknesses and imperfections; and second, because in suffering the

soul continues to practise and acquire the virtues and become purer,

wiser and more cautious.

10. But there is another and a more important reason why the soul now

walks in darkness and securely; this emanates from the dark light or

wisdom aforementioned. For in such a way does this dark night of

contemplation absorb and immerse the soul in itself, and so near does

it bring the soul to God, that it protects and delivers it from all

that is not God. For this soul is now, as it were, undergoing a cure,

in order that it may regain its health--its health being God Himself.

His Majesty restricts it to a diet and abstinence from all things, and

takes away its appetite for them all. It is like a sick man, who, if he

is respected by those in his house, is carefully tended so that he may

be cured; the air is not allowed to touch him, nor may he even enjoy

the light, nor must he hear footsteps, nor yet the noise of those in

the house; and he is given food that is very delicate, and even that

only in great moderation--food that is nourishing rather than

delectable.

11. All these particularities (which are for the security and

safekeeping of the soul) are caused by this dark contemplation, because

it brings the soul nearer to God. For the nearer the soul approaches

Him, the blacker is the darkness which it feels and the deeper is the

obscurity which comes through its weakness; just as, the nearer a man

approaches the sun, the greater are the darkness and the affliction

caused him through the great splendour of the sun and through the

weakness and impurity of his eyes. In the same way, so immense is the

spiritual light of God, and so greatly does it transcend our natural

understanding, that the nearer we approach it, the more it blinds and

darkens us. And this is the reason why, in Psalm xvii, David says that

God made darkness His hiding-place and covering, and His tabernacle

around Him dark water in the clouds of the air. [209] This dark water

in the clouds of the air is dark contemplation and Divine wisdom in

souls, as we are saying. They continue to feel it is a thing which is

near Him, as the tabernacle wherein He dwells, when God brings them

ever nearer to Himself. And thus, that which in God is supreme light

and refulgence is to man blackest darkness, as Saint Paul says,

according as David explains in the same Psalm, saying: Because of the

brightness which is in His presence, passed clouds and cataracts' [210]

--that is to say, over the natural understanding, the light whereof, as

Isaias says in Chapter V: Obtenebrata est in caligine ejus. [211]

12. Oh, miserable is the fortune of our life, which is lived in such

great peril and wherein it is so difficult to find the truth. For that

which is most clear and true is to us most dark and doubtful;

wherefore, though it is the thing that is most needful for us, we flee

from it. And that which gives the greatest light and satisfaction to

our eyes we embrace and pursue, though it be the worst thing for us,

and make us fall at every step. In what peril and fear does man live,

since the very natural light of his eyes by which he has to guide

himself is the first light that dazzles him and leads him astray on his

road to God! And if he is to know with certainty by what road he

travels, he must perforce keep his eyes closed and walk in darkness,

that he may be secure from the enemies who inhabit his own house--that

is, his senses and faculties.

13. Well hidden, then, and well protected is the soul in these dark

waters, when it is close to God. For, as these waters serve as a

tabernacle and dwelling-place for God Himself, they will serve the soul

in the same way and for a perfect protection and security, though it

remain in darkness, wherein, as we have said, it is hidden and

protected from itself, and from all evils that come from creatures; for

to such the words of David refer in another Psalm, where he says: Thou

shalt hide them in the hiding-place of Thy face from the disturbance of

men; Thou shalt protect them in Thy tabernacle from the contradiction

of tongues.' [212] Herein we understand all kinds of protection; for to

be hidden in the face of God from the disturbance of men is to be

fortified with this dark contemplation against all the chances which

may come upon the soul from men. And to be protected in His tabernacle

from the contradiction of tongues is for the soul to be engulfed in

these dark waters, which are the tabernacle of David whereof we have

spoken. Wherefore, since the soul has all its desires and affections

weaned and its faculties set in darkness, it is free from all

imperfections which contradict the spirit, whether they come from its

own flesh or from other creatures. Wherefore this soul may well say

that it journeys in darkness and secure.'

14. There is likewise another reason, which is no less effectual than

the last, by which we may understand how the soul journeys securely in

darkness; it is derived from the fortitude by which the soul is at once

inspired in these obscure and afflictive dark waters of God. For after

all, though the waters be dark, they are none the less waters, and

therefore they cannot but refresh and fortify the soul in that which is

most needful for it, although in darkness and with affliction. For the

soul immediately perceives in itself a genuine determination and an

effectual desire to do naught which it understands to be an offence to

God, and to omit to do naught that seems to be for His service. For

that dark love cleaves to the soul, causing it a most watchful care and

an inward solicitude concerning that which it must do, or must not do,

for His sake, in order to please Him. It will consider and ask itself a

thousand times if it has given Him cause to be offended; and all this

it will do with much greater care and solicitude than before, as has

already been said with respect to the yearnings of love. For here all

the desires and energies and faculties of the soul are recollected from

all things else, and its effort and strength are employed in pleasing

its God alone. After this manner the soul goes forth from itself and

from all created things to the sweet and delectable union of love of

God, In darkness and secure.'

By the secret ladder, disguised.

__________________________________________________________________

[206] [Lit., taste.']

[207] Some have considered this description exaggerated, but it must be

borne in mind that all souls are not tested alike and the Saint is

writing of those whom God has willed to raise to such sanctity that

they drain the cup of bitterness to the dregs. We have already seen

(Bk. I, chap. xiv, sect. 5) that all do not experience (this) after one

manner . . . for (it) is meted out by the will of God, in conformity

with the greater or the smaller degree of imperfection which each soul

has to purge away, (and) in conformity, likewise, with the degree of

love of union to which God is pleased to raise it' (Bk. I, chap xiv,

above).

[208] Osee xiii, 9.

[209] Psalm xvii, 12 [A.V., xviii, 11].

[210] Psalm xvii, 13 [A.V., xviii, 12].

[211] Isaias v, 30.

[212] Psalm xxx, 21 [A.V., xxxi, 20].

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XVII

Explains how this dark contemplation is secret.

THREE things have to be expounded with reference to three words

contained in this present line. Two (namely, 'secret' and ladder')

belong to the dark night of contemplation of which we are treating; the

third (namely, disguised') belongs to the soul by reason of the manner

wherein it conducts itself in this night. As to the first, it must be

known that in this line the soul describes this dark contemplation, by

which it goes forth to the union of love, as a secret ladder, because

of the two properties which belong to it--namely, its being secret and

its being a ladder. We shall treat of each separately.

2. First, it describes this dark contemplation as 'secret,' since, as

we have indicated above, it is mystical theology, which theologians

call secret wisdom, and which, as Saint Thomas says is communicated and

infused into the soul through love. [213] This happens secretly and in

darkness, so as to be hidden from the work of the understanding and of

other faculties. Wherefore, inasmuch as the faculties aforementioned

attain not to it, but the Holy Spirit infuses and orders it in the

soul, as says the Bride in the Songs, without either its knowledge or

its understanding, it is called secret. And, in truth, not only does

the soul not understand it, but there is none that does so, not even

the devil; inasmuch as the Master Who teaches the soul is within it in

its substance, to which the devil may not attain, neither may natural

sense nor understanding.

3. And it is not for this reason alone that it may be called secret,

but likewise because of the effects which it produces in the soul. For

it is secret not only in the darknesses and afflictions of purgation,

when this wisdom of love purges the soul, and the soul is unable to

speak of it, but equally so afterwards in illumination, when this

wisdom is communicated to it most clearly. Even then it is still so

secret that the soul cannot speak of it and give it a name whereby it

may be called; for, apart from the fact that the soul has no desire to

speak of it, it can find no suitable way or manner or similitude by

which it may be able to describe such lofty understanding and such

delicate spiritual feeling. And thus, even though the soul might have a

great desire to express it and might find many ways in which to

describe it, it would still be secret and remain undescribed. For, as

that inward wisdom is so simple, so general and so spiritual that it

has not entered into the understanding enwrapped or cloaked in any form

or image subject to sense, it follows that sense and imagination (as it

has not entered through them nor has taken their form and colour)

cannot account for it or imagine it, so as to say anything concerning

it, although the soul be clearly aware that it is experiencing and

partaking of that rare and delectable wisdom. It is like one who sees

something never seen before, whereof he has not even seen the like;

although he might understand its nature and have experience of it, he

would be unable to give it a name, or say what it is, however much he

tried to do so, and this in spite of its being a thing which he had

perceived with the senses. How much less, then, could he describe a

thing that has not entered through the senses! For the language of God

has this characteristic that, since it is very intimate and spiritual

in its relations with the soul, it transcends every sense and at once

makes all harmony and capacity of the outward and inward senses to

cease and be dumb.

4. For this we have both authorities and examples in the Divine

Scripture. For the incapacity of man to speak of it and describe it in

words was shown by Jeremias, [214] when, after God had spoken with him,

he knew not what to say, save Ah, ah, ah!' This interior

incapacity--that is, of the interior sense of the imagination--and also

that of the exterior sense corresponding to it was also demonstrated in

the case of Moses, when he stood before God in the bush; [215] not only

did he say to God that after speaking with Him he knew not neither was

able to speak, but also that not even (as is said in the Acts of the

Apostles) [216] with the interior imagination did he dare to meditate,

for it seemed to him that his imagination was very far away and was too

dumb, not only to express any part of that which he understood

concerning God, but even to have the capacity to receive aught

therefrom. Wherefore, inasmuch as the wisdom of this contemplation is

the language of God to the soul, addressed by pure spirit to pure

spirit, naught that is less than spirit, such as the senses, can

perceive it, and thus to them it is secret, and they know it not,

neither can they say it, [217] nor do they desire to do so, because

they see it not.

5. We may deduce from this the reason why certain persons--good and

fearful souls--who walk along this road and would like to give an

account of their spiritual state to their director, [218] are neither

able to do so nor know how. For the reason we have described, they have

a great repugnance in speaking of it, especially when their

contemplation is of the purer sort, so that the soul itself is hardly

conscious of it. Such a person is only able to say that he is

satisfied, tranquil and contented and that he is conscious of the

presence of God, and that, as it seems to him, all is going well with

him; but he cannot describe the state of his soul, nor can he say

anything about it save in general terms like these. It is a different

matter when the experiences of the soul are of a particular kind, such

as visions, feelings, etc., which, being ordinarily received under some

species wherein sense participates, can be described under that

species, or by some other similitude. But this capacity for being

described is not in the nature of pure contemplation, which is

indescribable, as we have said, for the which reason it is called

secret.

6. And not only for that reason is it called secret, and is so, but

likewise because this mystical knowledge has the property of hiding the

soul within itself. For, besides performing its ordinary function, it

sometimes absorbs the soul and engulfs it in its secret abyss, in such

a way that the soul clearly sees that it has been carried far away from

every creature and; has become most remote therefrom; [219] so that it

considers itself as having been placed in a most profound and vast

retreat, to which no human creature can attain, such as an immense

desert, which nowhere has any boundary, a desert the more delectable,

pleasant and lovely for its secrecy, vastness and solitude, wherein,

the more the soul is raised up above all temporal creatures, the more

deeply does it find itself hidden. And so greatly does this abyss of

wisdom raise up and exalt the soul at this time, making it to penetrate

the veins of the science of love, that it not only shows it how base

are all properties of the creatures by comparison with this supreme

knowledge and Divine feeling, but likewise it learns how base and

defective, and, in some measure, how inapt, are all the terms and words

which are used in this life to treat of Divine things, and how

impossible it is, in any natural way or manner, however learnedly and

sublimely they may be spoken of, to be able to know and perceive them

as they are, save by the illumination of this mystical theology. And

thus, when by means of this illumination the soul discerns this truth,

namely, that it cannot reach it, still less explain it, by common or

human language, it rightly calls it secret.

7. This property of secrecy and superiority over natural capacity,

which belongs to this Divine contemplation, belongs to it, not only

because it is supernatural, but also inasmuch as it is a road that

guides and leads the soul to the perfections of union with God; which,

as they are things unknown after a human manner, must be approached,

after a human manner, by unknowing and by Divine ignorance. For,

speaking mystically, as we are speaking here, Divine things and

perfections are known and understood as they are, not when they are

being sought after and practised, but when they have been found and

practised. To this purpose speaks the prophet Baruch concerning this

Divine wisdom: There is none that can know her ways nor that can

imagine her paths.' [220] Likewise the royal Prophet speaks in this

manner concerning this road of the soul, when he says to God: Thy

lightnings lighted and illumined the round earth; the earth was moved

and trembled. Thy way is in the sea and Thy paths are in many waters;

and Thy footsteps shall not be known.' [221]

8. All this, speaking spiritually, is to be understood in the sense

wherein we are speaking. For the illumination of the round earth [222]

by the lightnings of God is the enlightenment which is produced by this

Divine contemplation in the faculties of the soul; the moving and

trembling of the earth is the painful purgation which is caused

therein; and to say that the way and the road of God whereby the soul

journeys to Him is in the sea, and His footprints are in many waters

and for this reason shall not be known, is as much as to say that this

road whereby the soul journeys to God is as secret and as hidden from

the sense of the soul as the way of one that walks on the sea, whose

paths and footprints are not known, is hidden from the sense of the

body. The steps and footprints which God is imprinting upon the souls

that He desires to bring near to Himself, and to make great in union

with His Wisdom, have also this property, that they are not known.

Wherefore in the Book of Job mention is made of this matter, in these

words: Hast thou perchance known the paths of the great clouds or the

perfect knowledges?' [223] By this are understood the ways and roads

whereby God continually exalts souls and perfects them in His Wisdom,

which souls are here understood by the clouds. It follows, then, that

this contemplation which is guiding the soul to God is secret wisdom.

__________________________________________________________________

[213] Propter hoc Gregorius (Hom. 14 in Ezech.) constituit vitam

contemplativam in charitate Dei. Cf. Summa Theologica, 2a, 2ae, q. 45,

a. 2.

[214] Jeremias i, 6.

[215] Exodus iv, 10 [cf. iii, 2].

[216] Acts vii, 32.

[217] [Or: and they know not how to say it nor are able to do so.']

[218] [Lit., to him that rules them.']

[219] [Lit., that is set most far away and most remote from every

creatures.']

[220] Baruch iii, 31.

[221] Psalm lxxvi, 19-20 [A.V., lxxvii, 18-19].

[222] [Lit., of the roundness of the earth.']

[223] Job xxxvii, 16.

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XVIII

Explains how this secret wisdom is likewise a ladder.

IT now remains to consider the second point--namely, how this secret

wisdom is likewise a ladder. With respect to this it must be known that

we can call this secret contemplation a ladder for many reasons. In the

first place, because, just as men mount by means of ladders and climb

up to possessions and treasures and things that are in strong places,

even so also, by means of this secret contemplation, without knowing

how, the soul ascends and climbs up to a knowledge and possession of

[224] the good things and treasures of Heaven. This is well expressed

by the royal prophet David, when he says: Blessed is he that hath Thy

favour and help, for such a man hath placed in his heart ascensions

into the vale of tears in the place which he hath appointed; for after

this manner the Lord of the law shall give blessing, and they shall go

from virtue to virtue as from step to step, and the God of gods shall

be seen in Sion.' [225] This God is the treasure of the strong place of

Sion, which is happiness.

2. We may also call it a ladder because, even as the ladder has those

same steps in order that men may mount, it has them also that they may

descend; even so is it likewise with this secret contemplation, for

those same communications which it causes in the soul raise it up to

God, yet humble it with respect to itself. For communications which are

indeed of God have this property, that they humble the soul and at the

same time exalt it. For, upon this road, to go down is to go up, and to

go up, to go down, for he that humbles himself is exalted and he that

exalts himself is humbled. [226] And besides the fact that the virtue

of humility is greatness, for the exercise of the soul therein, God is

wont to make it mount by this ladder so that it may descend, and to

make it descend so that it may mount, that the words of the Wise Man

may thus be fulfilled, namely: Before the soul is exalted, it is

humbled; and before it is humbled, it is exalted.' [227]

3. Speaking now in a natural way, the soul that desires to consider it

will be able to see how on this road (we leave apart the spiritual

aspect, of which the soul is not conscious) it has to suffer many ups

and downs, and how the prosperity which it enjoys is followed

immediately by certain storms and trials; so much so, that it appears

to have been given that period of calm in order that it might be

forewarned and strengthened against the poverty which has followed;

just as after misery and torment there come abundance and calm. It

seems to the soul as if, before celebrating that festival, it has first

been made to keep that vigil. This is the ordinary course and

proceeding of the state of contemplation until the soul arrives at the

state of quietness; it never remains in the same state for long

together, but is ascending and descending continually.

4. The reason for this is that, as the state of perfection, which

consists in the perfect love of God and contempt for self, cannot exist

unless it have these two parts, which are the knowledge of God and of

oneself, the soul has of necessity to be practised first in the one and

then in the other, now being given to taste of the one--that is,

exaltation--and now being made to experience the other--that is,

humiliation--until it has acquired perfect habits; and then this

ascending and descending will cease, since the soul will have attained

to God and become united with Him, which comes to pass at the summit of

this ladder, for the ladder rests and leans upon Him. For this ladder

of contemplation, which, as we have said, comes down from God, is

prefigured by that ladder which Jacob saw as he slept, whereon angels

were ascending and descending, from God to man, and from man to God,

Who Himself was leaning upon the end of the ladder. [228] All this,

says Divine Scripture, took place by night, when Jacob slept, in order

to express how secret is this road and ascent to God, and how different

from that of man's knowledge. This is very evident, since ordinarily

that which is of the greatest profit in it--namely, to be ever losing

oneself and becoming as nothing [229] --is considered the worst thing

possible; and that which is of least worth, which is for a soul to find

consolation and sweetness (wherein it ordinarily loses rather than

gains), is considered best.

5. But, speaking now somewhat more substantially and properly of this

ladder of secret contemplation, we shall observe that the principal

characteristic of contemplation, on account of which it is here called

a ladder, is that it is the science of love. This, as we have said, is

an infused and loving knowledge of God, which enlightens the soul and

at the same time enkindles it with love, until it is raised up step by

step, even unto God its Creator. For it is love alone that unites and

joins the soul with God. To the end that this may be seen more clearly,

we shall here indicate the steps of this Divine ladder one by one,

pointing out briefly the marks and effects of each, so that the soul

may conjecture hereby on which of them it is standing. We shall

therefore distinguish them by their effects, as do Saint Bernard and

Saint Thomas, [230] for to know them in themselves is not possible

after a natural manner, inasmuch as this ladder of love is, as we have

said, so secret that God alone is He that measures and weighs it.

__________________________________________________________________

[224] [Lit., rises to scale, know and possess.']

[225] Psalm lxxxiii, 6 [A.V., lxxxiv, 7].

[226] St. Luke xiv, 11.

[227] Proverbs xviii, 12.

[228] Genesis xxviii, 12.

[229] [Lit., and annihilating oneself.']

[230] Ut dicit Bernardus, Magna res est amor, sed sunt in eo gradus.

Loquendo ergo aliquantulum magis moraliter quam realiter, decem amoris

gradus distinguere possumus (D. Thom., De dilectione Dei et proximi,

cap. xxvii. Cf. Opusc. LXI of the edition of Venice, 1595).

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XIX

Begins to explain the ten steps [231] of the mystic ladder of Divine

love, according to Saint Bernard and Saint Thomas. The first five

are here treated.

WE observe, then, that the steps of this ladder of love by which the

soul mounts, one by one, to God, are ten. The first step of love causes

the soul to languish, and this to its advantage. The Bride is speaking

from this step of love when she says: I adjure you, daughters of

Jerusalem, that, if ye find my Beloved, ye tell Him that I am sick with

love.' [232] This sickness, however, is not unto death, but for the

glory of God, for in this sickness the soul swoons as to sin and as to

all things that are not God, for the sake of God Himself, even as David

testifies, saying: My soul hath swooned away' [233] --that is, with

respect to all things, for Thy salvation. For just as a sick man first

of all loses his appetite and taste for all food, and his colour

changes, so likewise in this degree of love the soul loses its taste

and desire for all things and changes its colour and the other

accidentals of its past life, like one in love. The soul falls not into

this sickness if excess of heat be not communicated to it from above,

even as is expressed in that verse of David which says: Pluviam

voluntariam segregabis, Deus, haereditati tuae, et infirmata est, [234]

etc. This sickness and swooning to all things, which is the beginning

and the first step on the road to God, we clearly described above, when

we were speaking of the annihilation wherein the soul finds itself when

it begins to climb [235] this ladder of contemplative purgation, when

it can find no pleasure, support, consolation or abiding-place in

anything soever. Wherefore from this step it begins at once to climb to

the second.

2. The second step causes the soul to seek God without ceasing.

Wherefore, when the Bride says that she sought Him by night upon her

bed (when she had swooned away according to the first step of love) and

found Him not, she said: I will arise and will seek Him Whom my soul

loveth.' [236] This, as we say, the soul does without ceasing as David

counsels it, saying: 'seek ye ever the face of God, and seek ye Him in

all things, tarrying not until ye find Him;' [237] like the Bride, who,

having enquired for Him of the watchmen, passed on at once and left

them. Mary Magdalene did not even notice the angels at the sepulchre.

[238] On this step the soul now walks so anxiously that it seeks the

Beloved in all things. In whatsoever it thinks, it thinks at once of

the Beloved. Of whatsoever it speaks, in whatsoever matters present

themselves, it is speaking and communing at once with the Beloved. When

it eats, when it sleeps, when it watches, when it does aught soever,

all its care is about the Beloved, as is said above with respect to the

yearnings of love. And now, as love begins to recover its health and

find new strength in the love of this second step, it begins at once to

mount to the third, by means of a certain degree [239] of new purgation

in the night, as we shall afterwards describe, which produces in the

soul the following effects.

3. The third step of the ladder of love is that which causes the soul

to work and gives it fervour so that it fails not. Concerning this the

royal Prophet says: ' Blessed is the man that feareth the Lord, for in

His commandments he is eager to labour greatly.' [240] Wherefore if

fear, being the son of love, causes within him this eagerness to

labour, [241] what will be done by love itself? On this step the soul

considers great works undertaken for the Beloved as small; many things

as few; and the long time for which it serves Him as short, by reason

of the fire of love wherein it is now burning. Even so to Jacob, though

after seven years he had been made to serve seven more, they seemed few

because of the greatness of his love. [242] Now if the love of a mere

creature could accomplish so much in Jacob, what will love of the

Creator be able to do when on this third step it takes possession of

the soul? Here, for the great love which the soul bears to God, it

suffers great pains and afflictions because of the little that it does

for God; and if it were lawful for it to be destroyed a thousand times

for Him it would be comforted. Wherefore it considers itself useless in

all that it does and thinks itself to be living in vain. Another

wondrous effect produced here in the soul is that it considers itself

as being, most certainly, worse than all other souls: first, because

love is continually teaching it how much is due to God; [243] and

second, because, as the works which it here does for God are many and

it knows them all to be faulty and imperfect, they all bring it

confusion and affliction, for it realizes in how lowly a manner it is

working for God, Who is so high. On this third step, the soul is very

far from vainglory or presumption, and from condemning others. These

anxious effects, with many others like them, are produced in the soul

by this third step; wherefore it gains courage and strength from them

in order to mount to the fourth step, which is that that follows.

4. The fourth step of this ladder of love is that whereby there is

caused in the soul an habitual suffering because of the Beloved, yet

without weariness. For, as Saint Augustine says, love makes all things

that are great, grievous and burdensome to be almost naught. From this

step the Bride was speaking when, desiring to attain to the last step,

she said to the Spouse: 'set me as a seal upon thy heart, as a seal

upon thine arm; for love--that is, the act and work of love--is strong

as death, and emulation and importunity last as long as hell.' [244]

The spirit here has so much strength that it has subjected the flesh

and takes as little account of it as does the tree of one of its

leaves. In no way does the soul here seek its own consolation or

pleasure, either in God, or in aught else, nor does it desire or seek

to pray to God for favours, for it sees clearly that it has already

received enough of these, and all its anxiety is set upon the manner

wherein it will be able to do something that is pleasing to God and to

render Him some service such as He merits and in return for what it has

received from Him, although it be greatly to its cost. The soul says in

its heart and spirit: Ah, my God and Lord! How many are there that go

to seek in Thee their own consolation and pleasure, and desire Thee to

grant them favours and gifts; but those who long to do Thee pleasure

and to give Thee something at their cost, setting their own interests

last, are very few. The failure, my God, is not in Thy unwillingness to

grant us new favours, but in our neglect to use those that we have

received in Thy service alone, in order to constrain Thee to grant them

to us continually. Exceeding lofty is this step of love; for, as the

soul goes ever after God with love so true, imbued with the spirit of

suffering for His sake, His Majesty oftentimes and quite habitually

grants it joy, and visits it sweetly and delectably in the spirit; for

the boundless love of Christ, the Word, cannot suffer the afflictions

of His lover without succouring him. This He affirmed through Jeremias,

saying: I have remembered thee, pitying thy youth and tenderness, when

thou wentest after Me in the wilderness.' [245] Speaking spiritually,

this denotes the detachment which the soul now has interiorly from

every creature, so that it rests not and nowhere finds quietness. This

fourth step enkindles the soul and makes it to burn in such desire for

God that it causes it to mount to the fifth, which is that which

follows.

5. The fifth step of this ladder of love makes the soul to desire and

long for God impatiently. On this step the vehemence of the lover to

comprehend the Beloved and be united with Him is such that every delay,

however brief, becomes very long, wearisome and oppressive to it, and

it continually believes itself to be finding the Beloved. And when it

sees its desire frustrated (which is at almost every moment), it swoons

away with its yearning, as says the Psalmist, speaking from this step,

in these words: My soul longs and faints for the dwellings of the

Lord.' [246] On this step the lover must needs see that which he loves,

or die; at this step was Rachel, when, for the great longing that she

had for children, she said to Jacob, her spouse: Give me children, else

shall I die.' [247] Here men suffer hunger like dogs and go about and

surround the city of God. On this step, which is one of hunger, [248]

the soul is nourished upon love; for, even as is its hunger, so is its

abundance; so that it rises hence to the sixth step, producing the

effects which follow.

__________________________________________________________________

[231] [The word translated 'step' may also (and often more elegantly)

be rendered degree.' The same word is kept, however, throughout the

translation of this chapter except where noted below.]

[232] Canticles v, 8.

[233] Psalm cxlii, 7 [A.V., cxliii, 7].

[234] Psalm lxvii, 10 [A.V., lxviii, 9].

[235] [Lit., to enter (upon).']

[236] Canticles iii, 2.

[237] Psalm civ, 4 [A.V., cv, 4].

[238] St. John xx.

[239] [The word in the Spanish is that elsewhere translated 'step.']

[240] Psalm cxi, 1 [A.V., cxii, 1].

[241] [Lit., makes in him this labour of eagerness.']

[242] Genesis xxix, 20.

[243] [Lit., how much God merits.']

[244] Canticles viii, 5.

[245] Jeremias ii, 2.

[246] Psalm lxxxiii, 2 [A.V., lxxxiv, 2].

[247] Genesis xxx, 1.

[248] [Lit., On this hungering step.']

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XX

Wherein are treated the other five steps of love.

ON the sixth step the soul runs swiftly to God and touches Him again

and again; and it runs without fainting by reason of its hope. For here

the love that has made it strong makes it to fly swiftly. Of this step

the prophet Isaias speaks thus: ' The saints that hope in God shall

renew their strength; they shall take wings as the eagle; they shall

fly and shall not faint,' [249] as they did at the fifth step. To this

step likewise alludes that verse of the Psalm: ' As the hart desires

the waters, my soul desires Thee, O God.' [250] For the hart, in its

thirst, runs to the waters with great swiftness. The cause of this

swiftness in love which the soul has on this step is that its charity

is greatly enlarged within it, since the soul is here almost wholly

purified, as is said likewise in the Psalm, namely: Sine iniquitate

cucurri. [251] And in another Psalm: I ran the way of Thy commandments

when Thou didst enlarge my heart'; [252] and thus from this sixth step

the soul at once mounts to the seventh, which is that which follows.

2. The seventh step of this ladder makes the soul to become vehement in

its boldness. Here love employs not its judgment in order to hope, nor

does it take counsel so that it may draw back, neither can any shame

restrain it; for the favour which God here grants to the soul causes it

to become vehement in its boldness. Hence follows that which the

Apostle says, namely: That charity believeth all things, hopeth all

things and is capable of all things. [253] Of this step spake Moses,

when he entreated God to pardon the people, and if not, to blot out his

name from the book of life wherein He had written it. [254] Men like

these obtain from God that which they beg of Him with desire. Wherefore

David says: Delight thou in God and He will give thee the petitions of

thy heart.' [255] On this step the Bride grew bold, and said: Osculetur

me osculo oris sui. [256] To this step it is not lawful for the soul to

aspire boldly, unless it feel the interior favour of the King's sceptre

extended to it, lest perchance it fall from the other steps which it

has mounted up to this point, and wherein it must ever possess itself

in humility. From this daring and power which God grants to the soul on

this seventh step, so that it may be bold with God in the vehemence of

love, follows the eighth, which is that wherein it takes the Beloved

captive and is united with Him, as follows.

3. The eighth step of love causes the soul to seize Him and hold Him

fast without letting Him go, even as the Bride says, after this manner:

I found Him Whom my heart and soul love; I held Him and I will not let

Him go.' [257] On this step of union the soul satisfies her desire, but

not continuously. Certain souls climb some way, [258] and then lose

their hold; for, if this state were to continue, it would be glory

itself in this life; and thus the soul remains therein for very short

periods of time. To the prophet Daniel, because he was a man of

desires, was sent a command from God to remain on this step, when it

was said to him: Daniel, stay upon thy step, because thou art a man of

desires.' [259] After this step follows the ninth, which is that of

souls now perfect, as we shall afterwards say, which is that that

follows.

4. The ninth step of love makes the soul to burn with sweetness. This

step is that of the perfect, who now burn sweetly in God. For this

sweet and delectable ardour is caused in them by the Holy Spirit by

reason of the union which they have with God. For this cause Saint

Gregory says, concerning the Apostles, that when the Holy Spirit came

upon them visibly they burned inwardly and sweetly through love. [260]

Of the good things and riches of God which the soul enjoys on this

step, we cannot speak; for if many books were to be written concerning

it the greater part would still remain untold. For this cause, and

because we shall say something of it hereafter, I say no more here than

that after this follows the tenth and last step of this ladder of love,

which belongs not to this life.

5. The tenth and last step of this secret ladder of love causes the

soul to become wholly assimilated to God, by reason of the clear and

immediate [261] vision of God which it then possesses; when, having

ascended in this life to the ninth step, it goes forth from the flesh.

These souls, who are few, enter not into purgatory, since they have

already been wholly purged by love. Of these Saint Matthew says: Beati

mundo corde: quoniam ipsi Deum videbunt. [262] And, as we say, this

vision is the cause of the perfect likeness of the soul to God, for, as

Saint John says, we know that we shall be like Him. [263] Not because

the soul will come to have the capacity of God, for that is impossible;

but because all that it is will become like to God, for which cause it

will be called, and will be, God by participation.

6. This is the secret ladder whereof the soul here speaks, although

upon these higher steps it is no longer very secret to the soul, since

much is revealed to it by love, through the great effects which love

produces in it. But, on this last step of clear vision, which is the

last step of the ladder whereon God leans, as we have said already,

there is naught that is hidden from the soul, by reason of its complete

assimilation. Wherefore Our Saviour says: In that day ye shall ask Me

nothing,' etc. [264] But, until that day, however high a point the soul

may reach, there remains something hidden from it--namely, all that it

lacks for total assimilation in the Divine Essence. After this manner,

by this mystical theology and secret love, the soul continues to rise

above all things and above itself, and to mount upward to God. For love

is like fire, which ever rises upward with the desire to be absorbed in

the centre of its sphere.

__________________________________________________________________

[249] Isaias xl, 31.

[250] Psalm xli, 2 [A.V., xlii, 1].

[251] Psalm lviii, 5 [A.V., lix, 4].

[252] Psalm cxviii, 32 [A.V., cxix, 32].

[253] 1 Corinthians xiii, 7.

[254] Exodus xxxii, 31-2.

[255] Psalm xxxvi, 4 [A.V., xxxvii, 4].

[256] Canticles i, 1.

[257] Canticles iii, 4.

[258] [Lit., attain to setting their foot.']

[259] Daniel x, 11.

[260] Dum Deum in ignis visione suscipiunt, per amorem suaviter

arserunt (Hom. XXX in Evang.).

[261] [i.e., direct, not mediate.]

[262] St. Matthew v, 8.

[263] St. John iii, 2.

[264] St. John xvi, 23.

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XXI

Which explains the word disguised,' and describes the colours of the

disguise of the soul in this night.

Now that we have explained the reasons why the soul called this

contemplation a 'secret ladder,' it remains for us to explain likewise

the word disguised,' and the reason why the soul says also that it went

forth by this 'secret ladder' in ' disguise.'

2. For the understanding of this it must be known that to disguise

oneself is naught else but to hide and cover oneself beneath another

garb and figure than one's own--sometimes in order to show forth, under

that garb or figure, the will and purpose which is in the heart to gain

the grace and will of one who is greatly loved; sometimes, again, to

hide oneself from one's rivals and thus to accomplish one's object

better. At such times a man assumes the garments and livery which best

represent and indicate the affection of his heart and which best

conceal him from his rivals.

3. The soul, then, touched with the love of Christ the Spouse, and

longing to attain to His grace and gain His goodwill, goes forth here

disguised with that disguise which most vividly represents the

affections of its spirit and which will protect it most securely on its

journey from its adversaries and enemies, which are the devil, the

world and the flesh. Thus the livery which it wears is of three chief

colours--white, green and purple--denoting the three theological

virtues, faith, hope and charity. By these the soul will not only gain

the grace and goodwill of its Beloved, but it will travel in security

and complete protection from its three enemies: for faith is an inward

tunic of a whiteness so pure that it completely dazzles the eyes of the

understanding. [265] And thus, when the soul journeys in its vestment

of faith, the devil can neither see it nor succeed in harming it, since

it is well protected by faith--more so than by all the other

virtues--against the devil, who is at once the strongest and the most

cunning of enemies.

4. It is clear that Saint Peter could find no better protection than

faith to save him from the devil, when he said: Cui resistite fortes in

fide. [266] And in order to gain the grace of the Beloved, and union

with Him, the soul cannot put on a better vest and tunic, [267] to

serve as a foundation and beginning of the other vestments of the

virtues, than this white garment [268] of faith, for without it, as the

Apostle says, it is impossible to please God, and with it, it is

impossible to fail to please Him. For He Himself says through a

prophet: Sponsabo te mihi in fide. [269] Which is as much as to say: If

thou desirest, O soul, to be united and betrothed to Me, thou must come

inwardly clad in faith.

5. This white garment of faith was worn by the soul on its going forth

from this dark night, when, walking in interior constraint and

darkness, as we have said before, it received no aid, in the form of

light, from its understanding, neither from above, since Heaven seemed

to be closed to it and God hidden from it, nor from below, since those

that taught it satisfied it not. It suffered with constancy and

persevered, passing through those trials without fainting or failing

the Beloved, Who in trials and tribulations proves the faith of His

Bride, so that afterwards she may truly repeat this saying of David,

namely: By the words of Thy lips I kept hard ways.' [270]

6. Next, over this white tunic of faith the soul now puts on the second

colour, which is a green vestment. By this, as we said, is signified

the virtue of hope, wherewith, as in the first case, the soul is

delivered and protected from the second enemy, which is the world. For

this green colour of living hope in God gives the soul such ardour and

courage and aspiration to the things of eternal life that, by

comparison with what it hopes for therein, all things of the world seem

to it to be, as in truth they are, dry and faded and dead and nothing

worth. The soul now divests and strips itself of all these worldly

vestments and garments, setting its heart upon naught that is in the

world and hoping for naught, whether of that which is or of that which

is to be, but living clad only in the hope of eternal life. Wherefore,

when the heart is thus lifted up above the world, not only can the

world neither touch the heart nor lay hold on it, but it cannot even

come within sight of it.

7. And thus, in this green livery and disguise, the soul journeys in

complete security from this second enemy, which is the world. For Saint

Paul speaks of hope as the helmet of salvation [271] --that is, a piece

of armour that protects the whole head, and covers it so that there

remains uncovered only a visor through which it may look. And hope has

this property, that it covers all the senses of the head of the soul,

so that there is naught soever pertaining to the world in which they

can be immersed, nor is there an opening through which any arrow of the

world can wound them. It has a visor, however, which the soul is

permitted to use so that its eyes may look upward, but nowhere else;

for this is the function which hope habitually performs in the soul,

namely, the directing of its eyes upwards to look at God alone, even as

David declared that his eyes were directed, when he said: Oculi mei

semper ad Dominum. [272] He hoped for no good thing elsewhere, save as

he himself says in another Psalm: Even as the eyes of the handmaid are

set upon the hands of her mistress, even so are our eyes set upon our

Lord God, until He have mercy upon us as we hope in Him.' [273]

8. For this reason, because of this green livery (since the soul is

ever looking to God and sets its eyes on naught else, neither is

pleased with aught save with Him alone), the Beloved has such great

pleasure with the soul that it is true to say that the soul obtains

from Him as much as it hopes for from Him. Wherefore the Spouse in the

Songs tells the Bride that, by looking upon Him with one eye alone, she

has wounded His heart. [274] Without this green livery of hope in God

alone it would be impossible for the soul to go forth to encompass this

loving achievement, for it would have no success, since that which

moves and conquers is the importunity of hope.

9. With this livery of hope the soul journeys in disguise through this

secret and dark night whereof we have spoken; for it is so completely

voided of every possession and support that it fixes its eyes and its

care upon naught but God, putting its mouth in the dust, [275] if so be

there may be hope--to repeat the quotation made above from Jeremias.

[276]

10. Over the white and the green vestments, as the crown and perfection

of this disguise and livery, the soul now puts on the third colour,

which is a splendid garment of purple. By this is denoted the third

virtue, which is charity. This not only adds grace to the other two

colours, but causes the soul to rise to so lofty a point that it is

brought near to God, and becomes very beautiful and pleasing to Him, so

that it makes bold to say: Albeit I am black, O daughters of Jerusalem,

I am comely; wherefore the King hath loved me and hath brought me into

His chambers.' [277] This livery of charity, which is that of love, and

causes greater love in the Beloved, not only protects the soul and

hides it from the third enemy, which is the flesh (for where there is

true love of God there enters neither love of self nor that of the

things of self), but even gives worth to the other virtues, bestowing

on them vigour and strength to protect the soul, and grace and beauty

to please the Beloved with them, for without charity no virtue has

grace before God. This is the purple which is spoken of in the Songs,

[278] upon which God reclines. Clad in this purple livery the soul

journeys when (as has been explained above in the first stanza) it goes

forth from itself in the dark night, and from all things created,

kindled in love with yearnings,' by this secret ladder of

contemplation, to the perfect union of love of God, its beloved

salvation. [279]

11. This, then, is the disguise which the soul says that it wears in

the night of faith, upon this secret ladder, and these are its three

colours. They constitute a most fit preparation for the union of the

soul with God, according to its three faculties, which are

understanding, memory and will. For faith voids and darkens the

understanding as to all its natural intelligence, and herein prepares

it for union with Divine Wisdom. Hope voids and withdraws the memory

from all creature possessions; for, as Saint Paul says, hope is for

that which is not possessed; [280] and thus it withdraws the memory

from that which it is capable of possessing, and sets it on that for

which it hopes. And for this cause hope in God alone prepares the

memory purely for union with God. Charity, in the same way, voids and

annihilates the affections and desires of the will for whatever is not

God, and sets them upon Him alone; and thus this virtue prepares this

faculty and unites it with God through love. And thus, since the

function of these virtues is the withdrawal of the soul from all that

is less than God, their function is consequently that of joining it

with God.

12. And thus, unless it journeys earnestly, clad in the garments of

these three virtues, it is impossible for the soul to attain to the

perfection of union with God through love. Wherefore, in order that the

soul might attain that which it desired, which was this loving and

delectable union with its Beloved, this disguise and clothing which it

assumed was most necessary and convenient. And likewise to have

succeeded in thus clothing itself and persevering until it should

obtain the end and aspiration which it had so much desired, which was

the union of love, was a great and happy chance, wherefore in this line

the soul also says:

Oh, happy chance!

__________________________________________________________________

[265] [Lit., that it dislocates the sight of all understanding.']

[266] 1 St. Peter v, 9.

[267] [Lit., a better undershirt and tunic.']

[268] [Lit., this whiteness.']

[269] Osee, ii, 20.

[270] Psalm xvi, 4 [A.V., xvii, 4].

[271] 1 Thessalonians v, 8.

[272] Psalm xxiv, 15 [A.V., xxv, 15].

[273] Psalm cxxii, 2 [A.V., cxxiii, 2].

[274] Canticles iv, 9.

[275] Lamentations iii, 29.

[276] Ibid. [For the quotation, see Bk. II, chap. viii, sect. 1,

above.]

[277] Canticles i, 3. [A.V., i, 4.] [For chambers' the Spanish has

bed.']

[278] Canticles iii, 10.

[279] [Or health.']

[280] Romans viii, 24.

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XXII

Explains the third [281] line of the second stanza.

IT is very clear that it was a happy chance for this soul to go forth

with such an enterprise as this, for it was its going forth that

delivered it from the devil and from the world and from its own

sensuality, as we have said. Having attained liberty of spirit, so

precious and so greatly desired by all, it went forth from low things

to high; from terrestrial, it became celestial; from human, Divine.

Thus it came to have its conversation in the heavens, as has the soul

in this state of perfection, even as we shall go on to say in what

follows, although with rather more brevity.

2. For the most important part of my task, and the part which chiefly

led me to undertake it, was the explanation of this night to many souls

who pass through it and yet know nothing about it, as was said in the

prologue. Now this explanation and exposition has already been half

completed. Although much less has been said of it than might be said,

we have shown how many are the blessings which the soul bears with it

through the night and how happy is the chance whereby it passes through

it, so that, when a soul is terrified by the horror of so many trials,

it is also encouraged by the certain hope of so many and such precious

blessings of God as it gains therein. And furthermore, for yet another

reason, this was a happy chance for the soul; and this reason is given

in the following line:

In darkness and in concealment.

__________________________________________________________________

[281] i.e., in the original Spanish and in our verse rendering of the

poem in The Complete Works of St. John of the Cross, Ed. by E. Allison

Peers, Vol. II (The Newman Press, Westminster, Md.).

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XXIII

Expounds the fourth line [282] and describes the wondrous hiding

place wherein the soul is set during this night. Shows how, although

the devil has an entrance into other places that are very high, he

has none into this.

IN concealment' is as much as to say in a hiding-place,' or in hiding';

and thus, what the soul here says (namely, that it went forth in

darkness and in concealment') is a more complete explanation of the

great security which it describes itself in the first line of the

stanza as possessing, by means of this dark contemplation upon the road

of the union of the love of God.

2. When the soul, then, says in darkness and in concealment,' it means

that, inasmuch as it journeyed in darkness after the manner

aforementioned, it went in hiding and in concealment from the devil and

from his wiles and stratagems. The reason why, as it journeys in the

darkness of this contemplation, the soul is free, and is hidden from

the stratagems of the devil, is that the infused contemplation which it

here possesses is infused into it passively and secretly, without the

knowledge of the senses and faculties, whether interior or exterior, of

the sensual part. And hence it follows that, not only does it journey

in hiding, and is free from the impediment which these faculties can

set in its way because of its natural weakness, but likewise from the

devil; who, except through these faculties of the sensual part, cannot

reach or know that which is in the soul, nor that which is taking place

within it. Wherefore, the more spiritual, the more interior and the

more remote from the senses is the communication, the farther does the

devil fall short of understanding it.

3. And thus it is of great importance for the security of the soul that

its inward communication with God should be of such a kind that its

very senses of the lower part will remain in darkness [283] and be

without knowledge of it, and attain not to it: first, so that it may be

possible for the spiritual communication to be more abundant, and that

the weakness of its sensual part may not hinder the liberty of its

spirit; secondly because, as we say, the soul journeys more securely

since the devil cannot penetrate so far. In this way we may understand

that passage where Our Saviour, speaking in a spiritual sense, says:

Let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth.' [284] Which is

as though He had said: Let not thy left hand know that which takes

place upon thy right hand, which is the higher and spiritual part of

the soul; that is, let it be of such a kind that the lower portion of

thy soul, which is the sensual part, may not attain to it; let it be a

secret between the spirit and God alone.

4. It is quite true that oftentimes, when these very intimate and

secret spiritual communications are present and take place in the soul,

although the devil cannot get to know of what kind and manner they are,

yet the great repose and silence which some of them cause in the senses

and the faculties of the sensual part make it clear to him that they

are taking place and that the soul is receiving a certain blessing from

them. And then, as he sees that he cannot succeed in thwarting them in

the depth of the soul, he does what he can to disturb and disquiet the

sensual part--that part to which he is able to attain--now by means of

afflictions, now by terrors and fears, with intent to disquiet and

disturb the higher and spiritual part of the soul by this means, with

respect to that blessing which it then receives and enjoys. But often,

when the communication of such contemplation makes its naked assault

upon the soul and exerts its strength upon it, the devil, with all his

diligence, is unable to disturb it; rather the soul receives a new and

a greater advantage and a securer peace. For, when it feels the

disturbing presence of the enemy, then--wondrous thing!--without

knowing how it comes to pass, and without any efforts of its own, it

enters farther into its own interior depths, feeling that it is indeed

being set in a sure refuge, where it perceives itself to be most

completely withdrawn and hidden from the enemy. And thus its peace and

joy, which the devil is attempting to take from it, are increased; and

all the fear that assails it remains without; and it becomes clearly

and exultingly conscious of its secure enjoyment of that quiet peace

and sweetness of the hidden Spouse, which neither the world nor the

devil can give it or take from it. In that state, therefore, it

realizes the truth of the words of the Bride about this, in the Songs,

namely: 'see how threescore strong men surround the bed of Solomon,

etc., because of the fears of the night.' [285] It is conscious of this

strength and peace, although it is often equally conscious that its

flesh and bones are being tormented from without.

5. At other times, when the spiritual communication is not made in any

great measure to the spirit, but the senses have a part therein, the

devil more easily succeeds in disturbing the spirit and raising a

tumult within it, by means of the senses, with these terrors. Great are

the torment and the affliction which are then caused in the spirit; at

times they exceed all that can be expressed. For, when there is a naked

contact of spirit with spirit, the horror is intolerable which the evil

spirit causes in the good spirit (I mean, in the soul), when its tumult

reaches it. This is expressed likewise by the Bride in the Songs, when

she says that it has happened thus to her at a time when she wished to

descend to interior recollection in order to have fruition of these

blessings. She says: I went down into the garden of nuts to see the

apples of the valleys, and if the vine had flourished. I knew not; my

soul troubled me because of the chariots'--that is, because of the

chariots and the noise of Aminadab, which is the devil. [286]

6. At other times it comes to pass that the devil is occasionally able

to see certain favours which God is pleased to grant the soul when they

are bestowed upon it by the mediation of a good angel; for of those

favours which come through a good angel God habitually allows the enemy

to have knowledge: partly so that he may do that which he can against

them according to the measure of justice, and that thus he may not be

able to allege with truth that no opportunity is given him for

conquering the soul, as he said concerning Job. [287] This would be the

case if God allowed not a certain equality between the two

warriors--namely, the good angel and the bad--when they strive for the

soul, so that the victory of either may be of the greater worth, and

the soul that is victorious and faithful in temptation may be the more

abundantly rewarded.

7. We must observe, therefore, that it is for this reason that, in

proportion as God is guiding the soul and communing with it, He gives

the devil leave to act with it after this manner. When the soul has

genuine visions by the instrumentality of the good angel (for it is by

this instrumentality that they habitually come, even though Christ

reveal Himself, for He scarcely ever appears [288] in His actual

person), God also gives the wicked angel leave to present to the soul

false visions of this very type in such a way that the soul which is

not cautious may easily be deceived by their outward appearance, as

many souls have been. Of this there is a figure in Exodus, [289] where

it is said that all the genuine signs that Moses wrought were wrought

likewise in appearance by the magicians of Pharaoh. If he brought forth

frogs, they brought them forth likewise; if he turned water into blood,

they did the same.

8. And not only does the evil one imitate God in this type of bodily

vision, but he also imitates and interferes in spiritual communications

which come through the instrumentality of an angel, when he succeeds in

seeing them, as we say (for, as Job said [290] : Omne sublime videt).

These, however, as they are without form and figure (for it is the

nature of spirit to have no such thing), he cannot imitate and

counterfeit like those others which are presented under some species or

figure. And thus, in order to attack the soul, in the same way as that

wherein it is being visited, his fearful spirit presents a similar

vision in order to attack and destroy spiritual things by spiritual.

When this comes to pass just as the good angel is about to communicate

spiritual contemplation to the soul, it is impossible for the soul to

shelter itself in the secrecy and hiding-place of contemplation with

sufficient rapidity not to be observed by the devil; and thus he

appears to it and produces a certain horror and perturbation of spirit

which at times is most distressing to the soul. Sometimes the soul can

speedily free itself from him, so that there is no opportunity for the

aforementioned horror of the evil spirit to make an impression on it;

and it becomes recollected within itself, being favoured, to this end,

by the effectual spiritual grace that the good angel then communicates

to it.

9. At other times the devil prevails and encompasses the soul with a

perturbation and horror which is a greater affliction to it than any

torment in this life could be. For, as this horrible communication

passes direct from spirit to spirit, in something like nakedness and

clearly distinguished from all that is corporeal, it is grievous beyond

what every sense can feel; and this lasts in the spirit for some time,

yet not for long, for otherwise the spirit would be driven forth from

the flesh by the vehement communication of the other spirit. Afterwards

there remains to it the memory thereof, which is sufficient to cause it

great affliction.

10. All that we have here described comes to pass in the soul

passively, without its doing or undoing anything of itself with respect

to it. But in this connection it must be known that, when the good

angel permits the devil to gain this advantage of assailing the soul

with this spiritual horror, he does it to purify the soul and to

prepare it by means of this spiritual vigil for some great spiritual

favour and festival which he desires to grant it, for he never

mortifies save to give life, nor humbles save to exalt, which comes to

pass shortly afterwards. Then, according as was the dark and horrible

purgation which the soul suffered, so is the fruition now granted it of

a wondrous and delectable spiritual contemplation, sometimes so lofty

that there is no language to describe it. But the spirit has been

greatly refined by the preceding horror of the evil spirit, in order

that it may be able to receive this blessing; for these spiritual

visions belong to the next life rather than to this, and when one of

them is seen this is a preparation for the next.

11. This is to be understood with respect to occasions when God visits

the soul by the instrumentality of a good angel, wherein, as has been

said, the soul is not so totally in darkness and in concealment that

the enemy cannot come within reach of it. But, when God Himself visits

it, then the words of this line are indeed fulfilled, and it is in

total darkness and in concealment from the enemy that the soul receives

these spiritual favours of God. The reason for this is that, as His

Majesty dwells substantially in the soul, where neither angel nor devil

can attain to an understanding of that which comes to pass, they cannot

know the intimate and secret communications which take place there

between the soul and God. These communications, since the Lord Himself

works them, are wholly Divine and sovereign, for they are all

substantial touches of Divine union between the soul and God; in one of

which the soul receives a greater blessing than in all the rest, since

this is the loftiest degree [291] of prayer in existence.

12. For these are the touches that the Bride entreated of Him in the

Songs, saying: Osculetur me osculo oris sui. [292] Since this is a

thing which takes place in such close intimacy with God, whereto the

soul desires with such yearnings to attain, it esteems and longs for a

touch of this Divinity more than all the other favours that God grants

it. Wherefore, after many such favours have been granted to the Bride

in the said Songs, of which she has sung therein, she is not satisfied,

but entreats Him for these Divine touches, saying: ' Who shall give

Thee to me, my brother, that I might find Thee alone without, sucking

the breasts of my mother, so that I might kiss Thee with the mouth of

my soul, and that thus no man should despise me or make bold to attack

me.' [293] By this she denotes the communication which God Himself

alone makes to her, as we are saying, far from all the creatures and

without their knowledge, for this is meant by alone and without,

sucking, etc.'--that is, drying up and draining the breasts of the

desires and affections of the sensual part of the soul. This takes

place when the soul, in intimate peace and delight, has fruition of

these blessings, with liberty of spirit, and without the sensual part

being able to hinder it, or the devil to thwart it by means thereof.

And then the devil would not make bold to attack it, for he would not

reach it, neither could he attain to an understanding of these Divine

touches in the substance of the soul in the loving substance of God.

13. To this blessing none attains save through intimate purgation and

detachment and spiritual concealment from all that is creature; it

comes to pass in the darkness, as we have already explained at length

and as we say with respect to this line. The soul is in concealment and

in hiding, in the which hiding-place, as we have now said, it continues

to be strengthened in union with God through love, wherefore it sings

this in the same phrase, saying: In darkness and in concealment.'

14. When it comes to pass that those favours are granted to the soul in

concealment (that is, as we have said, in spirit only), the soul is

wont, during some of them, and without knowing how this comes to pass,

to see itself so far withdrawn and separated according to the higher

and spiritual part, from the sensual and lower portion, that it

recognizes in itself two parts so distinct from each other that it

believes that the one has naught to do with the other, but that the one

is very remote and far withdrawn from the other. And in reality, in a

certain way, this is so; for the operation is now wholly spiritual, and

the soul receives no communication in its sensual part. In this way the

soul gradually becomes wholly spiritual; and in this hiding-place of

unitive contemplation its spiritual desires and passions are to a great

degree removed and purged away. And thus, speaking of its higher part,

the soul then says in this last line:

My house being now at rest. [294]

__________________________________________________________________

[282] i.e., in the original Spanish and in our verse rendering of the

poem in The Complete Works of St. John of the Cross, Ed. by E. Allison

Peers, Vol. II (The Newman Press, Westminster, Md.).

[283] [The Spanish also admits of the rendering: remain shut off from

it by darkness.']

[284] Matthew vi, 3.

[285] Canticles iii, 7-8.

[286] Canticles vi, 10 [A.V., vi, 11-12].

[287] Job i, 1-11.

[288] Such is the unanimous opinion of theologians. Some, with St.

Thomas (Pt. III, q. 57, a. 6), suppose that the appearance which

converted St. Paul near Damascus was that of Our Lord Jesus Christ in

person.

[289] Exodus vii, 11-22; viii, 7.

[290] Job xli, 25.

[291] [Lit., 'step.' Cf. Bk. II, chap. xix, first note, above.]

[292] Canticles i, 1.

[293] Canticles viii, 1.

[294] The word translated at rest' is a past participle: more

literally, 'stilled.'

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XXIV

Completes the explanation of the second stanza.

THIS is as much as to say: The higher portion of my soul being like the

lower part also, at rest with respect to its desires and faculties, I

went forth to the Divine union of the love of God.

2. Inasmuch as, by means of that war of the dark night, as has been

said, the soul is combated and purged after two manners--namely,

according to its sensual and its spiritual part--with its senses,

faculties and passions, so likewise after two manners--namely,

according to these two parts, the sensual and the spiritual--with all

its faculties and desires, the soul attains to an enjoyment of peace

and rest. For this reason, as has likewise been said, the soul twice

pronounces this line--namely, [295] in this stanza and in the

last--because of these two portions of the soul, the spiritual and the

sensual, which, in order that they may go forth to the Divine union of

love, must needs first be reformed, ordered and tranquillized with

respect to the sensual and to the spiritual, according to the nature of

the state of innocence which was Adam's. [296] And thus this line

which, in the first stanza, was understood of the repose of the lower

and sensual portion, is, in this second stanza, understood more

particularly of the higher and spiritual part; for which reason it is

repeated. [297]

3. This repose and quiet of this spiritual house the soul comes to

attain, habitually and perfectly (in so far as the condition of this

life allows), by means of the acts of the substantial touches of Divine

union whereof we have just spoken; which, in concealment, and hidden

from the perturbation of the devil, and of its own senses and passions,

the soul has been receiving from the Divinity, wherein it has been

purifying itself, as I say, resting, strengthening and confirming

itself in order to be able to receive the said union once and for all,

which is the Divine betrothal between the soul and the Son of God. As

soon as these two houses of the soul have together become tranquillized

and strengthened, with all their domestics--namely, the faculties and

desires--and have put these domestics to sleep and made them to be

silent with respect to all things, both above and below, this Divine

Wisdom immediately unites itself with the soul by making a new bond of

loving possession, and there is fulfilled that which is written in the

Book of Wisdom, in these words: Dum quietum silentium contineret omnia,

et nox in suo cursu medium iter haberet, omnipotens sermo tuus Domine a

regalibus sedibus. [298] The same thing is described by the Bride in

the Songs, [299] where she says that, after she had passed by those who

stripped her of her mantle by night and wounded her, she found Him Whom

her soul loved.

4. The soul cannot come to this union without great purity, and this

purity is not gained without great detachment from every created thing

and sharp mortification. This is signified by the stripping of the

Bride of her mantle and by her being wounded by night as she sought and

went after the Spouse; for the new mantle which belonged to the

betrothal could not be put on until the old mantle was stripped off.

Wherefore, he that refuses to go forth in the night aforementioned to

seek the Beloved, and to be stripped of his own will and to be

mortified, but seeks Him upon his bed and at his own convenience, as

did the Bride, [300] will not succeed in finding Him. For this soul

says of itself that it found Him by going forth in the dark and with

yearnings of love.

__________________________________________________________________

[295] [Lit., twice repeats'--a loosely used phrase.]

[296] H omits this last phrase, which is found in all the other

Codices, and in e.p. The latter adds: notwithstanding that the soul is

not wholly free from the temptations of the lower part.' The addition

is made so that the teaching of the Saint may not be confused with that

of the Illuminists, who supposed the contemplative in union to be

impeccable, do what he might. The Saint's meaning is that for the

mystical union of the soul with God such purity and tranquillity of

senses and faculties are needful that his condition resembles that

state of innocence in which Adam was created, but without the attribute

of impeccability, which does not necessarily accompany union, nor can

be attained by any, save by a most special privilege of God. Cf. St.

Teresa's Interior Castle, VII, ii. St. Teresa will be found

occasionally to explain points of mystical doctrine which St. John of

the Cross takes as being understood.

[297] [Lit., twice repeated.']

[298] Wisdom xviii, 14.

[299] Canticles v, 7.

[300] Canticles iii, 1.

__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XXV

Wherein is expounded the third stanza.

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.

EXPOSITION

THE soul still continues the metaphor and similitude of temporal night

in describing this its spiritual night, and continues to sing and extol

the good properties which belong to it, and which in passing through

this night it found and used, to the end that it might attain its

desired goal with speed and security. Of these properties it here sets

down three.

2. The first, it says, is that in this happy night of contemplation God

leads the soul by a manner of contemplation so solitary and secret, so

remote and far distant from sense, that naught pertaining to it, nor

any touch of created things, succeeds in approaching the soul in such a

way as to disturb it and detain it on the road of the union of love.

3. The second property whereof it speaks pertains to the spiritual

darkness of this night, wherein all the faculties of the higher part of

the soul are in darkness. The soul sees naught, neither looks at aught

neither stays in aught that is not God, to the end that it may reach

Him, inasmuch as it journeys unimpeded by obstacles of forms and

figures, and of natural apprehensions, which are those that are wont to

hinder the soul from uniting with the eternal Being of God.

4. The third is that, although as it journeys it is supported by no

particular interior light of understanding, nor by any exterior guide,

that it may receive satisfaction therefrom on this lofty road--it is

completely deprived of all this by this thick darkness--yet its love

alone, which burns at this time, and makes its heart to long for the

Beloved, is that which now moves and guides it, and makes it to soar

upward to its God along the road of solitude, without its knowing how

or in what manner.

There follows the line:

In the happy night. [301]

__________________________________________________________________

[301] Thus end the majority of the MSS. Cf. pp. lxviii-lxiii, Ascent of

Mount Carmel (Image Books edition), 26-27, on the incomplete state of

this treatise. The MSS. say nothing of this, except that in the Alba de

Tormes MS. we read: Thus far wrote the holy Fray John of the Cross

concerning the purgative way, wherein he treats of the active and the

passive [aspect] of it as is seen in the treatise of the Ascent of the

Mount and in this of the Dark Night, and, as he died, he wrote no more.

And hereafter follows the illuminative way, and then the unitive.'

Elsewhere we have said that the lack of any commentary on the last five

stanzas is not due to the Saint's death, since he lived for many years

after writing the commentary on the earlier stanzas.