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a cache of usenet and other text files pertaining
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a cache of usenet and other text files pertaining
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Subject: DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL
by
Saint John of the Cross
DOCTOR OF THE CHURCH
Translated and edited, with an Introduction,
by E. ALLISON PEERS
from the critical edition of
P. SILVERIO DE SANTA TERESA, C.D.
Electronic edition scanned and edited by Harry Plantinga
This text is in the public domain
TO THE DISCALCED CARMELITES OF CASTILE,
WITH ABIDING MEMORIES OF THEIR HOSPITALITY AND KINDNESS
IN MADRID, AVILA AND BURGOS,
BUT ABOVE ALL OF THEIR DEVOTION TO
SAINT JOHN OF THE CROSS,
I DEDICATE THIS TRANSLATION
CONTENTS
PREFACE TO THE ELECTRONIC EDITION
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION
PRINCIPAL ABBREVIATIONS
INTRODUCTION
DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL
PROLOGUE
BOOK I
CHAPTER I.--Sets down the first line and begins to treat of
the imperfections of beginners
CHAPTER II.--Of certain spiritual imperfections which
beginners have with respect to the habit of pride
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
CHAPTER IV.--Of other imperfections which these beginners are
apt to have with respect to the third sin, which is luxury
CHAPTER V.--Of the imperfections into which beginners fall
with respect to the sin of wrath
CHAPTER VI.--Of imperfections with respect to spiritual
gluttony
CHAPTER VII.--Of imperfections with respect to spiritual envy
and sloth
CHAPTER VIII.--Wherein is expounded the first line of the
first stanza, and a beginning is made of the explanation of this
dark night
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
CHAPTER X.--Of the way in which these souls are to conduct
themselves in this dark night
CHAPTER XI.--Wherein are expounded the three lines of the
stanza
CHAPTER XII.--Of the benefits which this night causes in the
soul
CHAPTER XIII.--Of other benefits which this night of sense
causes in the soul
CHAPTER XIV.--Expounds this last verse of the first stanza
BOOK II
CHAPTER I.--Which begins to treat of the dark night of the
spirit and says at what time it begins
CHAPTER II.--Describes other imperfections which belong to
these proficients
CHAPTER III.--Annotation for that which follows
CHAPTER IV.--Sets down the first stanza and the exposition
thereof
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 purgation
CHAPTER VI.--Of other kinds of pain that the soul suffers in
this night
CHAPTER VII.--Continues the same matter and considers other
afflictions and constraints of the will
CHAPTER VIII.--Of other pains which afflict the soul in this
state
CHAPTER IX.--How, although this night brings darkness to the
spirit, it does so in order to illumine it and give it light
CHAPTER X.--Explains this purgation fully by a comparison
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
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
CHAPTER XIII.--Of other delectable effects which are wrought
in the soul by this dark night of contemplation
CHAPTER XIV.--Wherein are set down and explained the last
three lines of the first stanza
CHAPTER XV.--Sets down the second stanza and its exposition
CHAPTER XVI.--Explains how, though in darkness, the soul
walks
securely
CHAPTER XVII.--Explains how this dark contemplation is secret
CHAPTER XVIII.--Explains how this secret wisdom is likewise a
ladder
CHAPTER XIX.--Begins to explain the ten steps of the mystic
ladder of Divine love, according to Saint Bernard and Saint
Thomas. The first five are here treated
CHAPTER XX.--Wherein are treated the other five steps of love
CHAPTER XXI.--Which explains this word 'disguised,' and
describes the colours of the disguise of the soul in this night
CHAPTER XXII.--Explains the third line of the second stanza
CHAPTER XXIII.--Expounds the fourth line 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
CHAPTER XXIV.--Completes the explanation of the second stanza
CHAPTER XXV.--Wherein is expounded the third stanza
PREFACE TO THE ELECTRONIC EDITION
This electronic edition (v 0.9) has been scanned from an
uncopyrighted 1959 Image Books third edition of the Dark Night and
is therefore in the public domain. The entire text and some of the
footnotes have been reproduced. Nearly 400 footnotes (and parts
of footnotes) describing variations among manuscripts have been
omitted. Page number references in the footnotes have been
changed to chapter and section where possible. This edition has
been proofread once, but additional errors may remain.
Harry Plantinga
University of Pittsburgh
whp@wheaton.edu
July 19, 1994.
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION
FOR at least twenty years, a new translation of the works of
St. John of the Cross has been an urgent necessity. The
translations of the individual prose works now in general use go
back in their original form to the eighteen-sixties, and, though
the later editions of some of them have been submitted to a
certain degree of revision, nothing but a complete retranslation
of the works from their original Spanish could be satisfactory.
For this there are two reasons.
First, the existing translations were never very exact
renderings of the original Spanish text even in the form which
held the field when they were first published. Their great merit
was extreme readableness: many a disciple of the Spanish mystics,
who is unacquainted with the language in which they wrote, owes to
these translations the comparative ease with which he has mastered
the main lines of St. John of the Cross's teaching. Thus for the
general reader they were of great utility; for the student, on the
other hand, they have never been entirely adequate. They
paraphrase difficult expressions, omit or add to parts of
individual sentences in order (as it seems) to facilitate
comprehension of the general drift of the passages in which these
occur, and frequently retranslate from the Vulgate the Saint's
Spanish quotations from Holy Scripture instead of turning into
English the quotations themselves, using the text actually before
them.
A second and more important reason for a new translation,
however, is the discovery of fresh manuscripts and the consequent
improvements which have been made in the Spanish text of the works
of St. John of the Cross, during the present century. Seventy
years ago, the text chiefly used was that of the collection known
as the Biblioteca de Autores Espanoles (1853), which itself was
based, as we shall later see, upon an edition going back as far as
1703, published before modern methods of editing were so much as
imagined. Both the text of the B.A.E. edition and the unimportant
commentary which accompanied it were highly unsatisfactory, yet
until the beginning of the present century nothing appreciably
better was attempted.
In the last twenty years, however, we have had two new
editions, each based upon a close study of the extant manuscripts
and each representing a great advance upon the editions preceding
it. The three-volume Toledo edition of P. Gerardo de San Juan de
la Cruz, C.D. (1912-14), was the first attempt made to produce an
accurate text by modern critical methods. Its execution was
perhaps less laudable than its conception, and faults were pointed
out in it from the time of its appearance, but it served as a new
starting-point for Spanish scholars and stimulated them to a new
interest in St. John of the Cross's writings. Then, seventeen
years later, came the magnificent five-volume edition of P.
Silverio de Santa Teresa, C.D. (Burgos, 1929-31), which forms the
basis of this present translation. So superior is it, even on the
most casual examination, to all its predecessors that to eulogize
it in detail is superfluous. It is founded upon a larger number of
texts than has previously been known and it collates them with
greater skill than that of any earlier editor. It can hardly fail
to be the standard edition of the works of St. John of the Cross
for generations.
Thanks to the labours of these Carmelite scholars and of
others whose findings they have incorporated in their editions,
Spanish students can now approach the work of the great Doctor
with the reasonable belief that they are reading, as nearly as may
be, what he actually wrote. English-reading students, however, who
are unable to master sixteenth-century Spanish, have hitherto had
no grounds for such a belief. They cannot tell whether, in any
particular passage, they are face to face with the Saint's own
words, with a translator's free paraphrase of them or with a gloss
made by some later copyist or early editor in the supposed
interests of orthodoxy. Indeed, they cannot be sure that some
whole paragraph is not one of the numerous interpolations which
has its rise in an early printed edition -- i.e., the timorous
qualifications of statements which have seemed to the interpolator
over-bold. Even some of the most distinguished writers in English
on St. John of the Cross have been misled in this way and it has
been impossible for any but those who read Spanish with ease to
make a systematic and reliable study of such an important question
as the alleged dependence of Spanish quietists upon the Saint,
while his teaching on the mystical life has quite unwittingly been
distorted by persons who would least wish to misrepresent it in
any particular.
It was when writing the chapter on St. John of the Cross in
the first volume of my Studies of the Spanish Mystics (in which,
as it was published in 1927, I had not the advantage of using P.
Silverio's edition) that I first realized the extent of the harm
caused by the lack of an accurate and modern translation. Making
my own versions of all the passages quoted, I had sometimes
occasion to compare them with those of other translators, which at
their worst were almost unrecognizable as versions of the same
originals. Then and there I resolved that, when time allowed, I
would make a fresh translation of the works of a saint to whom I
have long had great devotion -- to whom, indeed, I owe more than
to any other writer outside the Scriptures. Just at that time I
happened to visit the Discalced Carmelites at Burgos, where I
first met P. Silverio, and found, to my gratification, that his
edition of St. John of the Cross was much nearer publication than
I had imagined. Arrangements for sole permission to translate the
new edition were quickly made and work on the early volumes was
begun even before the last volume was published.
II
These preliminary notes will explain why my chief
preoccupation throughout the performance of this task has been to
present as accurate and reliable a version of St. John of the
Cross's works as it is possible to obtain. To keep the
translation, line by line, au pied de la lettre, is, of course,
impracticable: and such constantly occurring Spanish habits as the
use of abstract nouns in the plural and the verbal construction
'ir + present participle' introduce shades of meaning which cannot
always be reproduced. Yet wherever, for stylistic or other
reasons, I have departed from the Spanish in any way that could
conceivably cause a misunderstanding, I have scrupulously
indicated this in a footnote. Further, I have translated, not only
the text, but the variant readings as given by P. Silverio,1
except where they are due merely to slips of the copyist's pen or
where they differ so slightly from the readings of the text that
it is impossible to render the differences in English. I beg
students not to think that some of the smaller changes noted are
of no importance; closer examination will often show that, however
slight they may seem, they are, in relation to their context, or
to some particular aspect of the Saint's teaching, of real
interest; in other places they help to give the reader an idea,
which may be useful to him in some crucial passage, of the general
characteristics of the manuscript or edition in question. The
editor's notes on the manuscripts and early editions which he has
collated will also be found, for the same reason, to be summarized
in the introduction to each work; in consulting the variants, the
English-reading student has the maximum aid to a judgment of the
reliability of his authorities.
Concentration upon the aim of obtaining the most precise
possible rendering of the text has led me to sacrifice stylistic
elegance to exactness where the two have been in conflict; it has
sometimes been difficult to bring oneself to reproduce the Saint's
often ungainly, though often forceful, repetitions of words or his
long, cumbrous parentheses, but the temptation to take refuge in
graceful paraphrases has been steadily resisted. In the same
interest, and also in that of space, I have made certain omissions
from, and abbreviations of, other parts of the edition than the
text. Two of P. Silverio's five volumes are entirely filled with
commentaries and documents. I have selected from the documents
those of outstanding interest to readers with no detailed
knowledge of Spanish religious history and have been content to
summarize the editor's introductions to the individual works, as
well as his longer footnotes to the text, and to omit such parts
as would interest only specialists, who are able, or at least
should be obliged, to study them in the original Spanish.
The decision to summarize in these places has been made the
less reluctantly because of the frequent unsuitability of P.
Silverio's style to English readers. Like that of many Spaniards,
it is so discursive, and at times so baroque in its wealth of
epithet and its profusion of imagery, that a literal translation,
for many pages together, would seldom have been acceptable. The
same criticism would have been applicable to any literal
translation of P. Silverio's biography of St. John of the Cross
which stands at the head of his edition (Vol. I, pp. 7-130). There
was a further reason for omitting these biographical chapters. The
long and fully documented biography by the French Carmelite, P.
Bruno de Jesus-Marie, C.D., written from the same standpoint as P.
Silverio's, has recently been translated into English, and any
attempt to rival this in so short a space would be foredoomed to
failure. I have thought, however, that a brief outline of the
principal events in St. John of the Cross's life would be a useful
preliminary to this edition; this has therefore been substituted
for the biographical sketch referred to.
In language, I have tried to reproduce the atmosphere of a
sixteenth-century text as far as is consistent with clarity.
Though following the paragraph divisions of my original, I have
not scrupled, where this has seemed to facilitate understanding,
to divide into shorter sentences the long and sometimes straggling
periods in which the Saint so frequently indulged. Some attempt
has been made to show the contrast between the highly adorned,
poetical language of much of the commentary on the 'Spiritual
Canticle' and the more closely shorn and eminently practical,
though always somewhat discursive style of the Ascent and Dark
Night. That the Living Flame occupies an intermediate position in
this respect should also be clear from the style of the
translation.
Quotations, whether from the Scriptures or from other
sources, have been left strictly as St. John of the Cross made
them. Where he quotes in Latin, the Latin has been reproduced;
only his quotations in Spanish have been turned into English. The
footnote references are to the Vulgate, of which the Douai Version
is a direct translation; if the Authorized Version differs, as in
the Psalms, the variation has been shown in square brackets for
the convenience of those who use it.
A word may not be out of place regarding the translations of
the poems as they appear in the prose commentaries. Obviously, it
would have been impossible to use the comparatively free verse
renderings which appear in Volume II of this translation, since
the commentaries discuss each line and often each word of the
poems. A literal version of the poems in their original verse-
lines, however, struck me as being inartistic, if not repellent,
and as inviting continual comparison with the more polished verse
renderings which, in spirit, come far nearer to the poet's aim. My
first intention was to translate the poems, for the purpose of the
commentaries, into prose. But later I hit upon the long and
metrically unfettered verse-line, suggestive of Biblical poetry in
its English dress, which I have employed throughout. I believe
that, although the renderings often suffer artistically from their
necessary literalness, they are from the artistic standpoint at
least tolerable.
III
The debts I have to acknowledge, though few, are very large
ones. My gratitude to P. Silverio de Santa Teresa for telling me
so much about his edition before its publication, granting my
publishers the sole translation rights and discussing with me a
number of crucial passages cannot be disjoined from the many
kindnesses I have received during my work on the Spanish mystics,
which is still proceeding, from himself and from his fellow-
Carmelites in the province of Castile. In dedicating this
translation to them, I think particularly of P. Silverio in
Burgos, of P. Florencio del Nino Jess in Madrid, and of P.
Crisogono de Jess Sacramentado, together with the Fathers of the
'Convento de la Santa' in vila.
The long and weary process of revising the manuscript and
proofs of this translation has been greatly lightened by the co-
operation and companionship of P. Edmund Gurdon, Prior of the
Cartuja de Miraflores, near Burgos, with whom I have freely
discussed all kinds of difficulties, both of substance and style,
and who has been good enough to read part of my proofs. From the
quiet library of his monastery, as well as from his gracious
companionship, I have drawn not only knowledge, but strength,
patience and perseverance. And when at length, after each of my
visits, we have had to part, we have continued our labours by
correspondence, shaking hands, as it were, 'over a vast' and
embracing 'from the ends of opposd winds.'
Finally, I owe a real debt to my publishers for allowing me
to do this work without imposing any such limitations of time as
often accompany literary undertakings. This and other
considerations which I have received from them have made that part
of the work which has been done outside the study unusually
pleasant and I am correspondingly grateful.
E. ALLISON PEERS.
University of Liverpool.
Feast of St. John of the Cross,
November 24, 1933.
NOTE. -- Wherever a commentary by St. John of the Cross is
referred to, its title is given in italics (e.g. Spiritual
Canticle); where the corresponding poem is meant, it is placed
between quotation marks (e.g. 'Spiritual Canticle'). The
abbreviation 'e.p.' stands for editio princeps throughout.
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION
DURING the sixteen years which have elapsed since the
publication of the first edition, several reprints have been
issued, and the demand is now such as to justify a complete
resetting. I have taken advantage of this opportunity to revise
the text throughout, and hope that in some of the more difficult
passages I may have come nearer than before to the Saint's mind.
Recent researches have necessitated a considerable amplification
of introductions and footnotes and greatly increased the length of
the bibliography.
The only modification which has been made consistently
throughout the three volumes relates to St. John of the Cross's
quotations from Scripture. In translating these I still follow him
exactly, even where he himself is inexact, but I have used the
Douia Version (instead of the Authorized, as in the first edition)
as a basis for all Scriptural quotations, as well as in the
footnote references and the Scriptural index in Vol. III.
Far more is now known of the life and times of St. John of
the Cross than when this translation of the Complete Works was
first published, thanks principally to the Historia del Carmen
Descalzo of P. Silverio de Santa Teresa, C.D, now General of his
Order, and to the admirably documented Life of the Saint written
by P. Crisogono de Jesus Sacramentado, C.D., and published (in
Vida y Obras de San Juan de la Cruz) in the year after his
untimely death. This increased knowledge is reflected in many
additional notes, and also in the 'Outline of the Life of St. John
of the Cross' (Vol. I, pp. xxv-xxviii), which, for this edition,
has been entirely recast. References are given to my Handbook to
the Life and Times of St. Teresa and St. John of the Cross, which
provides much background too full to be reproduced in footnotes
and too complicated to be compressed. The Handbook also contains
numerous references to contemporary events, omitted from the
'Outline' as being too remote from the main theme to justify
inclusion in a summary necessarily so condensed.
My thanks for help in revision are due to kindly
correspondents, too numerous to name, from many parts of the
world, who have made suggestions for the improvement of the first
edition; to the Rev. Professor David Knowles, of Cambridge
University, for whose continuous practical interest in this
translation I cannot be too grateful; to Miss I.L. McClelland, of
Glasgow University, who has read a large part of this edition in
proof; to Dom Philippe Chevallier, for material which I have been
able to incorporate in it; to P. Jose Antonio de Sobrino, S.J.,
for allowing me to quote freely from his recently published
Estudios; and, most of all, to M.R.P. Silverio de Santa Teresa,
C.D., and the Fathers of the International Carmelite College at
Rome, whose learning and experience, are, I hope, faintly
reflected in this new edition.
E.A.P.
June 30, 1941.
The footnotes are P. Silverio's except where they are enclosed in
square brackets.
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.
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. Andres de la Encarnacion, 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. Andres 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 in
numerable 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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