The Ascent of Mount Carmel

THE NATURE OF THE DARK NIGHT, THE NECESSITY OF PASSING THROUGH IT IN ORDER TO ATTAIN TO THE DIVINE UNION : AND SPECIALLY THE DARK NIGHT OF SENSE AND DESIRE, WITH THE EVILS WHICH THESE INFLICT ON THE SOUL.

Two kirTds of this night, corresponding with the division of the soul into higher and lower. In a dark night. With anxious love inflamed^ Forth unobserved I went, My house being now at rest THIS stanza describes the happy state of the soul at its departure from all things, from the desires and imperfections to which our sensual nature is subject because it is not ordered by reason. The meaning of it is this : in order to reach perfection, the soul has to pass, ordinarily, through two kinds of night, which spiritual writers call purgations, or purifications, of the soul, and which I have called night, because in the one as well as in the other the soul travels, as it were, by night, in darkness. / 2. The first night is the night, or purgation, of the sensual part of the soul, treated of in this first stanza, and in the first part of this work. The second night is the night of the spiritual part, of which the second and following stanza speaks, and which I shall discuss in the second part of my work, so far as it relates to the soul's activity therein, and in the third and fourth part, so far as it reflates to its passive condition in it.

3. The meaning of the stanza then is, that the soul went forth, led of God, through love of Him only, and with that love inflamed, in the dark night, which is the privation of, and purgation from, all sensual desires in all outward things of this world ; all the pleasures of the flesh, and all the satisfactions of the will. This is wrought in this purgation of sense, and for this reason is it said that the soul went forth, its house, that is the sensual* part, being at rest— all its desires being at rest and asleep, and the soul asleep to them ; for there is no going away from the pains and vexations of the desires till they be mortified and put to sleep. 4. The happy lot of the soul, then, lies in this unobserved departure which no carnal desire or aught else was able to hinder. And also in that this departure took place by night, which is the privation of all desire wrought by God, a condition which is as night to the soul. i The happy lot of the soul, then, consists in its being led of God into this night from which so great a blessing results, but into which it could not have entered

of itself, because no one is able in his own strength to empty his heart of all desires, so as to draw near unto God. This is the meaning of the stanza. I now proceed to explain each line of it separately, and to discuss the subject of this book.

The nature and cause of the dark night. 4 In a dark night/ — The journey of the soul to the divirie union is called night for three reasons. The first is derived from the point from which the soul sets out, the privation of the desire of all pleasure in all the things of v this world, by detachment therefrom. This is as night for every desire and sense of man. The second, from the road by which it travels ; that is faith, for faith is obscure, „ like night, to the understanding. The third, from the g-oal to which it tends, God, incomprehensible and infinite, Who in this life is as night to the soul. We must pass through these three nights if we are to attain to the divine union with God. 2. They are foreshadowed in Holy Scripture by the three nights which were to elapse, according to the command of the angel, between the betrothal and the marriage of the younger Tobias. 'When thou shalt take her/ said the angel, € entering into the chamber, for three days be continent from her.'* On the first night he was to burn the liver of the fish in the fire, which is the heart, the affections of which are set on the things of this world, and which, if it will enter on the road that leadeth unto

• Tob, vi. i8. God, must be burned up, and purified of all created things in the fire of His love. This purgation drives away the evil spirit who has dominion over our soul, because of our attachment to those pleasures which flow from temporal and corporeal things. 8. € The second night/ said the angel, * thou shalt be admitted into the society of the holy patriarchs/ the fathers of the faith. The soul having passed the first night, which is the privation of all sensible things, enters immediately into the second night, alone in pure faith, and by it alone directed : for faith is not subject to sense. 4. 'The third night/ said the angel, 'thou shalt obtain a blessing '—that is, God, Who, in the second night of faith, communicates Himself so secretly and so intimately to the soul. This is another night, inasmuch as this communication is more obscure than the others, as I shall presently explain. When this night is over, which is the accomplishment of the communication of God in spirit, ordinarily effected when the soul is in great darkness, the union with the bride, which is the wisdom of God, immediately ensues. The angel adds also, saying to Tobias, 'When the third night is passed, thou shait take the virgin with the fear of our Lord.' This fear and the love of God become perfect together, and are then perfect when the soul is by love transformed in God.

5. I shall speak of these three causes separately, that they may be the better understood, first reminding the reader that the three nights are but one divided into three parts. The first, which is that of sense, may be likened to the commencement of night when material objects begin to be invisible. The second, of faith, may be compared to mid-night, which is utter darkness. The third resembles the close of night, which is God, \ when the dawn of day is at hand. The first cause of this night, the privation of the desire in The privation of all pleasure to the desire in all things is here called night. For as night is nothing else but the absence of light, and, consequently, of visible objects, whereby the faculty of vision remains in darkness unemployed, so the mortification of the desires is as night to the soul. For when the soul denies itself those pleasures which outward things furnish to the desire, it is as it were in darkness, ^without occupation, j v ^ As the faculty of vision is nourished by light and fed by visible objects, and ceases to be so fed when the light is withdrawn, so the soul by means of the desire feeds on those things which, corresponding with its powers, give it pleasure ; but when the desire is mortified, it derives no more pleasure from them, and thus, so far as the desire is concerned, the soul abides in darkness, without occupation.

2. This may be illustrated in the case of all the faculties of the soul. When the soul denies itself the pleasure arising from all that gratifies the ear, it remains, so far as the faculty of hearing is concerned,

in darkness, without occupation ; and when it denies itself in all that is pleasing to the eye, it remains in darkness, so far as it relates to the faculty of sight. The same may be said of the other senses, for he who shall deny himself all satisfaction derivable from objects of sense, mortifying the desire thereof, may be said to be in a state which is as night, and this is nothing else but an entire detachment from all things. 3. Philosophers say that the soul is a blank when # God first infuses it into the body, without knowledge of any kind whatever, and incapable of receiving knowledge, in the course of nature, in any other way than through the senses. Thus, while in the body, the soul is like a man in a dark prison, who has no knowledge of what passes without beyond what he can learn by looking through the window of his cell, and who if he did not so look could in no other way learn anything at all. Thus, then, the soul cannot naturally know anythingbut through the senses, which are the windows of its cell. If, then, the impressions and communications of sense be rejected and denied, we may well say that the soul is in darkness and empty, because according to this opinion there is no other natural way for light to enter in. It is true, indeed, that we cannot help hearing, seeing, smelling, tasting, and touching, but this is of no moment, and does not trouble the soul, when the objects of sense are repelled, any more than if we neither heard nor saw ; for he who shuts his eyes is as much in darkness as a blind man who cannot see. This is the meaning of the Psalmist when he said, 'I am

poor and in labours from my youth.'* He says that he is poor, though it is certain he was rich ; because he had not set his mind upon riches, he was really like a poor man. But if he had been really poor, yet not in spirit, he would not have been truly poor, for his soul would have been rich, full of desires. 4. I call this detachment the night of the soul, for I am not speaking here of the L absence of things*— for absence is not detachment, if the desire remains - but of that detachment which consists in suppressing desire, and avoiding pleasure ; it is this that sets the soul free, even though possession may be still retained. It is not the things of this world that occupy or injure the soul, for they do not enter within, but rather Lthe wish fory and desire of them which abide within it. This is the night of the sensual part of the soul. And now I proceed to explain how the soul is to go forth from its house in the obscure night of sense, in order to be united with God.

Tne necessity of passing truly through the dark night of sense, which is the mortification of the desire, in order to enter on ihe road of union with God. The soul must of necessity— if we would attain to the divine union of God—pass through the dark night of mortification of the desires, and self-denial in all things. The reason is this ; all the love we bestow on creatures is in the eyes of God mere darkness, and while we a^e involved therein, the soul is incapable of being * Psal. lxxxvii. 16. enlightened and possessed by the pure and simple light of God, unless we first cast that love away. Light hath no fellowship with darkness, for as St. John saith, *The light shineth in darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend' it/* Two contrary qualities, as the philosophers say, cannot co-exist in the same subject Darkness, which is the love of creatures, and light, which is God, are unlike and contrary to one another, for as St. Paul saith to the Corinthians, " What fellowship hath light with darkness ?'t The light of the divine union cannot, therefore, dwell in the soul if these affections are not cast away.

2. The affection and attachment which the soul fee} 5 for the creature renders the soul its equal and its like, and the greater the affection the greater will be the likeness. Love begets a likeness between the lover and the object of his love, and so the Psalmist, speaking of those who set their heart upon idols, says, 'Let them that make them become like unto them, and all that have confidence in them.'+ Thus, he who loves the creature becomes vile as that creature itCelf, and in one sense even viler, for love not only levels, but subjects also the lover to the object of his love. 3. He, therefore, who loveth anything beside God renders his soul incapable of the divine union and transformation in God, for the vileness of the creative is further removed from the greatness of the Creator than darkness is from light. All things in heaven and earth are nothing in comparison with God. 'I beheld the • S. John i. 5. t 2 Cou vi. 14. t Ps. cxiii. 8. earth/ saith He, 'and lo, it was void and a thing of nothing, and the heavens, and there was no light in them/* The earth, ' void and nothing/ signifies that the earth and all it contains are nothing, and the heavens without light, that all the lights of heaven, in comparison with God, are perfect darkness. Thus all created things, with the affections bestowed upon them, are nothing, because they are a hindrance, and the privation of our transformation in God, just as darkness is nothing, and less than nothing, being the absence of light.

And as he who is in darkness comprehends not the light, so the soul, the affections of which are given to the creature, shall never comprehend God. Until our soul is purged of these affections we shall not possess God in this life in the pure transformation of love, nor in the life to come in the beatific vision. To make this more clear I shall enter into some particulars.

4. The whole creation, compared with the infinite being of God, is nothing ; and so the soul, the affections of which are set on created things, is notliing, and even less than nothing before God, because love begets equality and likeness, and even inferiority to the object beloved. Such a soul, therefore, cannot by any possibility be united to the infinite being of God, because that which is not can have no communion with that which is. All the beauty of the creation, in comparison with the infinite beauty of God, is supreme deformity, for ' grace is deceitful and beauty is vain/t and so the soul, the affections of which are set on the beauty of any created thing whatever, shows before God nothing but deformity C * Jer. iy. 23. f Pro*, xxxi. yx and can never be transformed in beauty, which is God, because deformity cannot attain unto beauty. All the grace and comeliness of creation, compared with the grace of God, is supreme disgrace and supreme disfavour, and that soul, therefore, which is captivated by the grace and comeliness of created things is in the eyes of God in disfavour and disgrace, incapable of the infinite grace and beauty, for that which is ill-favoured is far removed from that which is infinitely gracious.

5. "All the goodness of the whole world together, in comparison with the infinite goodness of God, is wickedness rather than goodness, for ' none is good but only God/* and that soul is, therefore, wicked before God, the affections of which are set on the things of this world ; and as wickedness can have no fellowship with goodness, sq that soul cannot be united in perfect union with God, who is the supreme goodness. 6. All the wisdom of the world, and all human cunning, compared with the infinite wisdom of God, is simple and supreme ignorance, c for the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God/ t He, therefore, who shall labour to attain to union with the wisdom of God* in reliance on his own wisdom and skill, is supremely ignorant, and infinitely distant therefrom : for ignorance knoweth not what wisdom is. They who consider themselves gifted with knowledge are in the eyes of God most ignorant, 'professing themselves to be wise, they become fools.'J They alone attain to the divine, wisdom who, like children and ignorant ones, lay aside their own • S. Luke xviil 19. t I Cor. iii. 1$ X Rom. i. 22.

wisdom, and serve God in love. This is the wisdom to which St. Paul refers, saying, 'Let no man deceive himself ; if any man among you seem to be wise in this world, let him become a fool that he may be wise. For the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God.'* Ignorance, therefore, rather than knowledge, becomes that soul which strives after union with the wisdom ot God. 7. All the liberty and power of the world, compared with the power and liberty of the Spirit of God, is but supreme slavery, wretchedness, and captivity ; and so he who loves superiority and dignities, and the indulgence of his desires, stands before God, not as a son who is free, but as a person of mean condition, the slave of his passions, because he submits not to the holy teaching, which saith, ' He that is the greater among you, let him become as the younger." t Such an one will never attain to the true liberty of spirit attainable in the divine union, because slavery has no fellowship with liberty, liberty dwelleth not in a heart subject to desires, for that heart is in captivity, but in that which is free, the heart of a son. It was for this reason that Sara said unto Abraham : € Cast out this handmaid and her son, for the son of the handmaid shall not be heir with my son Isaac.' +

8. All the sweetness and all the pleasures which all the things of this world furnish to the will are, in comparison with the sweetness and pleasure which is God, supreme pain, torment, and bitterness. He, therefore, • I Cor. iii. 18, 19. t S. Luke xxii. 26. t Gen. xxi. io. who shall set his heart upon them is, in the eyes of God, worthy of pain, torment, and bitterness, and can never attain to those delights with which the divine union abounds. 9. All the riches and glory of the whole creation compared with the true riches, which is God, is supreme poverty and meanness, and he who sets his heart upon them is, in God's sight, supremely poor and mean, and can nevef attain to the blessed estate of riches and glory, which is the transformation of the soul in God ; for that which is mean and poor is infinitely distant from that which is supremely rich and glorious. 10. For this cause, then, the divine wisdom bewails men ; namely, because they make themselves loathsome, mean, wretched, and poor, through their love for that which is beautiful, rich, and noble in the eyes of the world. *0 men, to you I cry, and my voice is to the sons of men. O little ones, understand subtlety, and ye unwise mark. Hear, for I will speak of great things. . • . With me are riches and glory, glorious riches and justice.

For my fruit is better than gold and precious stone, and my blossoms than chosen silver. I walk in the way of justice, in the midst of the paths of judgment, that I may enrich them that love me, and may replenish their treasures/ * Here God addresses Himself to those who set their affections on the things of this world ; He calls them little ones, because they make themselves little, like the object of their love. He bids them * understand subtlety,' and ' mark,' because He is speaking of great things, and not of little things, such as they

• Prov. YiiL 4-6, 18-21, ate. He tells them that great riches and glory, objects df their love, are with Him and in Him, and not where they think they shall find them. ' Glorious riches and justice ' are with wisdom. For though the things of this world may seem to men to be something, yet let them take notice, the things of God are better. The fruit ot wisdom is better than gold and precious stones, and that which wisdom produces in the soul is preferable to the chosen silver which they love. This is applicable to every kind of affection to which we are liable in this life. Continuation of the same subject. Proofs from Scripture of the necessity of drawing near unto God through the dark night of mortified desires. I have now explained how great is the distance between created things and God, and how souls which set their affections thereon are equally distant from Him, because — as I have said* love begets equality and likeness. This was well understood by S. Augustine when, considering his own inclination towards the creature, he thus spoke unto God : « Miserable man that I am, what fellowship hath my perverseness with Thy uprightness ? Thou art truly good, I wicked; Thou art full of compassion, I am hard of heart; Thou art holy, I am miserable ; Thou art just, I am unjust ; Thou art light, I am darkness ; Thou art life, and I am death ; Thou art medicine, I am sick; Thou art sovereign truth, and I utter vartity.'t This the saint said of subjection to created things.

2. It is, therefore, supreme ignorance for any one to think that he can ever attain to the high estate of union with God before he casts away from him the desire of natural things, and of supernatural also, so far as it concerns self-love, because the distance between them and that which takes place in the state of pure transformation in God is the very greatest. For Christ our Lord hath said, instructing us in this way, ' Every one of you that doth not renounce all that he possesseth, cannot be my disciple.'* This is plain, for the doctrine of Christ which He came into the world to teach, is contempt of all things, that we may thereby have power to receive the reward of the Spirit of God. For he who does not withdraw himself from the things of the world, is not qualified to receive the Spirit of God in the pure transformation. 3. This truth is foreshadowed in the book of Exodus, t where we read that God did not give the manna to the people of Israel till the corn they had brought from Egypt had failed them, thereby showing us that everything must be given up, for the bread of angels is not given to, neither is it meant for, that palate which is pleased with the bread of man. He who feeds on strange meats, and is delighted therewith, not only disqualifies himself for the reception of the Holy Ghost, but also provokes God to anger exceedingly, as all do who, while they seek spiritual food, are not content with God only, but intermingle therewith carnal and earthly satisfactions. This appears from the same history, where it is said the people cried, i Who will give us flesh to eat Y% They were not satisfied with food so pure, for they

• S. Lake xiy. 33. t Ex. xvi. 4. X Num. xi. 4. desired and demanded the flesh of beasts. God was grievously offended because they would mingle flesh, so vile and coarse, with the pure and heavenly bread which, though always the same, had in it * the sweetness of every taste,'* for, as David saith, the wrath of God in fire from heaven consumed many thousands of them, while ' their meat was in their mouth the wrath of God came upon them, and He slew the fat ones amongst them, and brought down the chosen men of Israel/ 1 God regarded it as an evil wish to desire other food when He was giving them the bread of heaven. 4. Oh, would that spiritual persons knew how they are losing the good things of the Spirit, abundantly furnished, because they will not raise up their desires above trifles, and how they might have the sweetness of all things in the pure food of the Spirit if they would only forego them. But as they will not, so they shall not have such sweetness. The people of Israel perceived not the sweetness of every taste in the manna, though it was there, because they would not limit their desires to it alone. The sweetness and strength of the manna was not for them, not because it was not there, but because they longed for other meats beside it. He who loves any other thing with God makes light of Him, because he puts into the balance with Him that which is infinitely beneath Him. We know by experience that the will, when set on a particular object, magnifies it above all others, if it has no pleasure in them, though they may be of greater importance than what it desires. And if it should desire two things together, it does wrong to the

* Wisd. xvi. 20. t Pg. lxxvii. 30, 31. chief of the two, because it establishes an unjust equality between them. There is nothing in the whole world to be compared with God; and, therefore, he who loves anything together with Him, wrongs Him. And if this be true, what does he do who loves anything more than 6. This truth is set before us in the book of Exodus, When God commanded Moses to go up into mount Sinai, He bade him go up alone ; the children of Israel were to remain below, and even the cattle were not to feed in sight of the mountain. * Thou shalt stand with Me on the top of the mount. Let no man go up with thee, and let not any man be seen throughout all the mount: neither let the oxen nor the sheep feed over against it/* He, therefore, that will go up into the mount of perfection and hold communion with God, must not only abandon everything, but restrain even his desires, the sheep and the cattle from feeding in sight of the mount — that is, upon anything which is not simply God, in Whom, that is, in the state of perfection, every desire must cease. This journey or ascent must there* fore be a perpetual struggle with our desires to make them cease, and the more earnest we are the sooner shall we reach the summit But until the desires cease we can never reach it, notwithstanding our many virtues, for virtue is not perfectly acquired before our souls are empty, detached, and purified from all desire.

6. Of this truth we have a lively figure in the history of the patriarch Jacob* When he was on his way to Bethel to build an altar for sacrifice unto God, he com- • Ex. xxxir. 2, 3. manded his household the observance of three things : the casting away of strange gods, self-purification, and the changing of their garments. ' Jacob having called together all his household, said, cast away the strange gods that are among you, and be cleansed and change your garments.'* He, therefore, who will ascend to the mount of perfection, to build an altar there, whereon to offer unto God the sacrifice of pure love, praise, and adoration, must first of all perfectly fulfil the three commandments of Jacob. He must cast away the strange gods, the earthly affections and attachments. He must purify himself from the impressions which the desires have made on the soul, in the obscure night of sense, denying them and doing penance duly for them, and, in the third place, he must change his garments. This God . himself will do during the observance of the first two commandments; He will change them from old into new, by infusing into the soul a new understanding of God in God, the human understanding being set aside, and a new love of God in God, the will being detached from its old desires and human satisfactions, by bringing the soul into a state of new knowledge and ot deep delight, all other knowledge and old imaginings being cast away; and, finally, by causing that which is of the old man to cease which is our natural aptitude, and investing us with a new supernatural aptitude, corresponding with the powers of the soul, so that all that is human in the action ot the soul may become divine. This is the object gained in the state of union, in which the soul is nothing else

• Gen. xxxv. 2. but an altar of God whereon the sacrifice of praise and love is offered, and where He dwells alone. 7. This is the reason why, under the old law, the altar of sacrifice was to be hollow within. ' Thou shalt not make it solid, but empty and hollow in the inside.'* It is the will of God that the soul should be empty of all created things, so that it may become a fitting altar of His Majesty. He would not endure strange fires on the altar, nor that His own should fail. 1 Nadab and Abiu, the sons of Aaron, taking their censers, put fire therein, and incense on it, offering before the Lord strange fire : which was not commanded them, and fire coming out from the Lord destroyed them, and they died before the Lord.'t Because Nadab and Abiu, sons of Aaron the high priest, offered strange fire on the altar, God in his anger slew them before it. That soul, therefore, which would become a fitting altar, must not be without the love of God, nor mingle therewith any other and strange love. God will never dwell there where aught is present beside Himself. Thus we read in the first book of the Kings, that when the Philistines took the ark of God and brought it into the temple of Dagon, their idol was thrown to the ground, and at last broken to pieces.?

8. One desire only doth God allow, and suffer, in His presence, that of perfectly observing His law, and of carrying the cross of Christ. We do not read in the divine writings that He commanded anything except the book of the law, to be laid up with the ark where the manna was preserved. — ' Take this book, and put it in the side of the ark of the covenant of the Lord your * Ex. xxvii. 8. T Levit. x. 1, 2. X I Kings v. 15. God '*— and the rod of Aaron, type of the cross. ' Take back the rod of Aaron into the tabernacle of the testimony.'! That soul which has no other aim than the perfect observance of the law of God, and the carrying of the cross of Christ, will be a true ark containing the true manna, which is God.

Two great evils of the desires : negative and positive. Proofs from Scripture. To make this matter more clear, and perfectly understood, it is advisable here to explain how the desires inflict two great evils on the soul. These evils are, the privation of the Spirit of God, and the other, fatigue, torture, darkness, defilement, and weakness of that soul which indulges them. * My people have done two evils : they have forsaken Me, the fountain of living water, and have digged to themselves cisterns, broken cisterns, that can hold no water.' + These two evils flow from one single act of desire ; for it is clear that the instant we set our affections upon any one created thing, our capacity for union with God is diminished in proportion to the intensity of that act of affection. For, as I said before,§ two contrary qualities cannot co-exist in the same subject ; the love of God and the love of the creature are contrary, the one to the other, and so cannot dwell together in the same heart. What connection is there • Dcut. xxxL 26 ; Ex. xvi. 33. + Numb. xvii. ia t Jercm. ii. 13. § Ch. iv.

between the creature and the Creator ? Between the sensual and the spiritual? The seen and the unseen? The temporal and the eternal ? Between the heavenly food, pure and spiritual, and the food of the flesh, simply sensual ? Between the poverty of Christ and selfish attachments? As in natural generation, no new form results without the corruption of the one previously existing — for this obstructs the former by reason of the contrariety between them — so while our souis are under the dominion of the sensual and animal spirit, the pure and heavenly spirit can never enter within them. 2. This explains those words of our Lord, * It is not good to take the bread of children, and to cast it to the dogs ; ' * and ' Give not that which is holy to dogs/ t Our Lord in these words compares those who, renouncing all earthly desires, prepare themselves in simplicity for the graces of the Holy Ghost, with the children of God, and those who satisfy their desires in earthly things, with dogs : children are admitted to the Father's table, that is, to be nourished by the Spirit, but only the crumbs which fall from it are given to the dogs. All created things are but the crumbs which fall from the table of God. Thus they who go about feeding on the creature are rightly called dogs ; the children's bread is withheld from such, because they will not rise from the crumbs of the creature to the table of the uncreated Spirit of their Father. These are always hungry like dogs, and justly so, because crumbs excite the appetite rather than appease hunger. These are they of whom it is written, 'They shall suffer hunger like dogs ; and shall

• S. Matt xv. 26. t lb. vii. 6. [CHA*. VI.] OF MOttNT CAfcMEt. 2ft go round about the city — and shall murmur if they be not filled/ * They who gratify their desires are always morose and discontented, like hungry persons : for what is there in common between the hunger which the creature occasions, and the fulness which proceeds from the Spirit of God ? The fulness of God cannot enter into the soul before we drive away the hunger of desire, for two contrary qualities, such as hunger and fulness, cannot dwell together in the same subject. We may see from this how much greater is the work of God in purifying the soul from these contrarieties, than it was when He first created it out of nothing. For these rebellious desires and opposing affections seem to resist God more than nothing : that which is not, cannot resist His Majesty, but not so the love of the creature. Let this suffice for the first great evil which desires inflict on the soul, namely, resistance to the Spirit of God. 8. Let us now proceed to the second, which is manifold in its operations. The desires fatigue, torment, darken, defile, and weaken the soul. Of these five forms of evil, I shall discuss each separately. As to the first, it is evident that the desires weary the soul, because they resemble little children, restless and dissatisfied, who always begging of their mother, now one thing, now another, are never content. As one given to covetousness fatigues himself digging for gold, so the soul wearies itself in the pursuit of those things which the desires demand, and though we may obtain them, yet the end is weariness, because we are never satisfied. We have recourse to broken cisterns, which can hold no • Pi. lviii. is, 16.

water to quench our thirst, as it is written, ' Faint with thirst and his soul is empty/ * The soul which yields to its desires, is weary and faint, like one ill of a burning fever, never at rest, and whose thirst increases while the fever lasts. It is written in the book of Job, ' When he shall be filled, he shall be straitened, he shall burn, and every sorrow shall fall upon him.' t Thus is it with the soul, wearied and afflicted by the desires; they wound it, agitate and disturb it, as wind does water, harassing it, so that it can never repose on anything, or in any place. 4. Of such souls is it written, 1 The wicked are like the raging sea which cannot rest.'+ The heart of the wicked is like the raging sea, and he is wicked who does not subdue his desires. That soul which seeks to satisfy them wearies and torments itself, and is like one who, in the pains of hunger, opens his mouth to be filled with the wind, and who, instead of being satisfied therewith, becomes still more hungry, for wind is not his meat and drink. Of such it is written, 'In the desire of his heart, he snuffed up the wind of his love,' § and again warning the soul against the increasing dryness towards which it tends. 'Keep thy foot,' that is thy thoughts, 'from being bare, and thy throat from thirst/ 1|— that is, thy will from the gratification of the desire which is the occasion of greater dryness. As the ambitious man is wearied in the day of disappointed expectations, so the soul with its desires and their fulfilment, for they make it more empty and hungry than it was before. The desires are, as it is

* Is. xxix, 8. X Is. Ivii. 20. § Jerem. ii. 24. t Job. xx. 22. 0 Jerem. ii. 25. commonly said, like fire which burns when supplied with fuel, but which, when the fuel is consumed, immediately dies. In truth, the desire is in a much worse condition : the fire is quenched when the fuel fails, but the desire ceases not with the matter on which it fed while it raged, even though that be utterly consumed; for instead of ceasing, like fire when the fuel is burnt out, the desire pines away in weariness, for hunger is increased, and food diminished. 5. A soul in this condition is thus described by the prophet, ' He shall turn to the right hand, and shall be hungry, and shall eat on the left hand, and shall not be filled.' * They who mortify not their desires are justly punished with hunger when they 'turn to the right hand/ that is, when they swerve from the way of God ; for they do not deserve the fulness of His sweet Spirit, and justly also shall they 4 not be filled,' when they * eat on the left hand,' that is, when they satisfy their desire with created things; for then abandoning that which can alone satisfy them they feed on that which is the source of greater hunger. Thus, then, is it clear that the desires weary and fatigue the soul.

The desires torment the soul. Proofs and illustrations. The second positive evil which the desires inflict is a certain torment and affliction of soul, so that he who suffers therefrom is like one in torture, bound with chains, finding no rest until released. * The cords of my

* Is. ix. 2a sins,' that is, my desires, saith the Psalmist, 4 have encom« briars, so is the soul in the power of its desires ; for they pierce, torture, and tear it painfully, as it is written, 4 They surrounded me like bees, and they burned like fire among thorns.'t The desires, which are as thorns, increase the fire of affliction and trouble. As the husbandman, greedy of the harvest, goads the oxen at the plough, so concupiscence goads the soul harnessed to its desires, till it shall obtain its will. Such was the desire of Dalila to know the secret of the strength of Samson ; she i pressed him— giving him no time to rest,' so that * his soul fainted away, and was wearied even unto death.'J 2. The desire tortures the soul in proportion to its intensity, so that the pain equals the desires, and the more numerous the desires the greater the pain : for the words which the apostle heard are fulfilled even in this life. * As much as she hath glorified herself, and lived in delicacies, so much torment and sorrow give ye to her.'§ As he is tormented who falls into the hands of his enemies, so is the soul carried away by its desires. This truth is foreshadowed in the history of Samson, who was once so strong and free, the judge of Israel. But when he had fallen into the hands of his enemies, they robbed him of his great strength, plucked out his eyes, imprisoned him in a mill, and i made him grind,' torturing and afflicting him. So is it with the soul, whose enemies, its own desires, live and triumph : their

passed me.'* As a man who lies naked amid thorns and • Ps. cxviii. 6i. X Judg. xvi. 1 6. t lb. cxvii. 12. § Apoc. xviii. 7. fCHAP. VII.] OF MOUNT CARMEL. 33 first act is to weaken and blind the soul, then to torment it, imprisoning it in the mill of concupiscence, and the / cords that bind it are its own desires themselves. 3. God, therefore, compassionating those who with so much toil and cost, go about to satisfy the hunger and thirst of their desires in created things, thus speaks to them by the mouth of His prophet : ' All you that thirst ' and desire * come to the waters, and you that have no money/ self-will, * make haste, buy and eat, come, buy wine and milk/ peace and spiritual sweetness, ' without money/ of self-will, and 'without price/ without that labour which your desires demand. 1 Why do you spend money ' of self-will ' for that which is not bread/ that is, the Spirit of God, and the ' labour ' of your desires ' for that which doth not satisfy you ? ' ' Hearken diligently unto Me and eat that which is good/ and which you desire, 'and your so'd shall be delighted in fatness.' * We attain to this fatness when we abandon all created satisfactions, for pain and sorrow flow from the creature, and refreshment from the Spirit of God.

4. ' Come to Me/ saith our Lord, 1 all you that labour and are burdened, and I will refresh you.'t All you who are tormented and afflicted, labouring beneath the burden of anxiety and desire, cast it aside, by coming unto Me, and I will refresh you ; and your souls shall find that rest of which your desires rob you, for, as the Psalmist saith, they ' as a heavy burden are become heavy upon Me.'* • Is. lv. I, a. f S. Matt. xi. 28. % P*. xxxvii. $.

The desires darken the soul. Proofs and illustrations. The third evil which the desires inflict is darkness and blindness of soul. For as vapours darken the <ur, and hide the light of the sun, or as a stained mirror cannot clearly receive an image, or as muddy water cannot distinctly reflect his face who looks into it, so the soul, stained by its desires, is intellectually blind, so that neither the understanding itself nor the sun of natural reason, nor that of the supernatural wisdom of God, can ii .brm and enlighten it. To this the Psalmist referred when he said, ' My iniquities have overtaken me, and I was not able to see.'* And thus, while the soul is intellectually blind, the will becomes torpid, the memory fails, and every lawful function is disordered. These faculties depend on the intellect, and it is therefore clear that, when the intellect is embarrassed, they must all be thrown into confusion and disorder. 1 My soul,' says the Psalmist, 'is troubled exceedingly,' t that is, all my faculties are in disorder ; for, as I have said, the intellect in this state cannot receive the illumination of the divine wisdom, just as the obscured air cannot reflect the brightness of the sun. The will cannot embrace God in pure love, just as the stained mirror cannot represent an object placed before it. The memory overclouded by desires cannot calmly dwell on the image of God, just as muddy water cannot reflect the face of him who looks into it.

• Ps. xxxix. 13. f lb. vL 4« 2. The desire also blinds and darkens the soul, for the desire, as such, is blind and unreasonable, and reason is that which ever guides the soul aright in its several acts. Hence it is that the soul becomes blind whenever the desires guide it, because it is as if one who saw were led by one who saw not : the result being the same as if both were blind. This is what our Lord referred to when He said, « If the blind lead the blind, both fall into the pit/* Eyes are of little service to the moth, whose desire for the beauty of the light leads it dazzled into the midst of the flame. He who gives the rein to his desires may be likened to the fish dazzled by the light which the fishermen throw over the water, that the nets may not be seen : in this case, light serves but to increase the obscurity. 3. This is the meaning of the Psalmist when he said, * Fire hath fallen upon them, and they have not seen the sun/t for the desire is like fire, warming with its heat, and dazzling with its light, and the effect of the desire in the soul is, that it enkindles concupiscence, and dazzles the intellect, so that it cannot see. The cause of this dazzling obscurity is, the interposition of another light between the object and the eye, whereon the eye rests, so as to see nothing beyond. As the desire comes so close to the soul, and within the range of its vision, we are dazzled, and satisfied with the light it gives, and so it hides from us the clear light of the intellect, which we do not, and never shall see, until the glare of the desire shall have ceased.

• S. Matt. xv. 14. + Ps. Ivii. 9. 4. This renders so deplorable their ignorance who burden themselves with indiscreet penances, and other imprudent methods of devotion — voluntary certainly — on which they rely, thinking such alone, without mortifying their desires in other matters, to be sufficient to lead them on to the union of the divine wisdom. But this can never be, if the desires be not diligently mortified. If these persons bestowed but half their labour on this, they would make greater progress in a month than they can now make in many years, if they persevere in their present ways. As it is necessary to till the earth that it may bring forth fruit— for otherwise nothing will grow therein but weeds— so also is it necessary to mortify our desires, if we are to make progress towards perfection. Without mortification, I say it boldly, we shall make no progress towards perfection, nor in the knowledge of God and of ourselves, notwithstanding all our efforts, any more than the seed will grow which is thrown away on uncultivated ground. Neither can the darkness and ignorance of our souls be removed, if the desires are not quenched : for they are like a mote or cataract in the natural eye, obstructing the vision, until it be taken away.

5. The Psalmist, considering the blindness of those souls which are under the power of their desires, the impossibility of their clearly beholding the truth, and the greatness of God's anger with them, said, 'Before your thorns could know the briar, He swalloweth them up, as alive, in His wrath.'* Before your thorns, your desires, harden and grow into a thicket, shutting out the sight of God, as the thread of life is frequently broken in • Ps. lvii. ia the midst thereof, so will God swallow them up in His anger. Those persons in whom their desires live, and hinder the knowledge of God, God will swallow up in His wrath, either in the next life, in the purifying pains of purgatory, or in this, in afflictions and sufferings, sent to detach them from their desires, or in the mortification of those very desires voluntarily undergone. God doeth this to take away the false light of desire between Himself and us, which dazzles us and hinders us from knowing Him ; and that, the intellect becoming clear, the ravage of desire may be repaired. 6. Oh that men knew how great a blessing, that of the divine light, this their blindness, the result of their desires, robs them of, and how great the evils they daily fall into, because they do not mortify them. We are not to rely on a clear intellect, or on the gifts received from God, and then imagine that any affections or desires we may indulge in will not blind us, nor cause us to fall into a worse state, little by little.

Who would have thought that a man of perfect wisdom, filled with the gifts of God, as Solomon was, could have fallen away in his old age into such blindness and the torpor of the will, as to build altars to so many idols and worship them ? His affection for his wives, and his negligence in controlling his desires and the satisfactions of his heart, were alone sufficient to reduce him to this. So he tells us himself, saying, * Whatsoever my eyes desired, I refused them not, and I withheld not my heart from enjoying every pleasure.'* Such was the effect upon Solomon of unbridled desires, and their gratification.

# Ecclci, il ia though at first he was cautiou : they soon blinded his understanding, and at last put out the light of wisdom within him, so that in his old age he forsook God. And if unmortified desires could produce such a disaster in one, who knew so well the difference between good and evil, what shall they not produce in us who are so ignorant? We are like the people of Ninive, of whom God said, 'They know not how to distinguish between their right hand and their left/ * since, at every step, we take good for evil, and evil for good ; and this is as it were natural to us. What, then, must it be when our desires are added to our natural blindness, but that which the prophet bewailed, speaking of those who love to follow after their desires : ' We have groped for the wall, and like the blind, we have groped as if we had no eyes, we have stumbled at noon as if in darkness.'t Such is he who is blinded by his desires, for in the presence of the truth and his real interests he cannot see them any more than if he had been utterly blind.

The desires pollute the soul. Proofs from Scripture. The fourth evil which the desires inflict on the soul is that they pollute and defile it, as it is written, ' He that toucheth pitch shall be defiled with it.' + He, then, toucheth pitch who satisfies the desires of the will in any created thing. Observe here that the wise man compareth the creature with pitch : for there is a greater •Jon. iv. ii. t Is. lix. 10. t Ecclcs, xiii. 1.

distance between the excellence of the soul and the noblest creature than there is between the glittering diamond or fine gold and pitch. As a diamond or a piece of gold, if placed, heated, in contact with pitch becomes foul and stained in proportion to the heat, so the soul inflamed by the desire it may entertain for the creature, draws corruption therefrom and defilement. And there is a greater difference between the soul and all other created corporeal things than there is between the most pellucid water and the foulest mud. So, then, as such water mingled with mud becomes foul, so the soul whose affections are set on created things becomes polluted; for then it resembles them. As soot defiles the most beautiful and perfect face, so the unruly desires of the soul, if indulged in, defile and pollute that soul, which is in itself the most beautiful and perfect image of 2. The prophet Jeremias, bewailing the ravages of corruption produced by these unruly desires, first of all describes the beauty of the soul and then its defilement: 'Her Nazarites were whiter than snow, purer than milk, more ruddy than the old ivory, fairer than the sapphire ; their face is now made blacker than coals, and they are not known in the streets/ * The hair of the Nazarites signify the thoughts and affections of the soul, which, ordered according to the law of God, that is referred all to Him, are * whiter than snow, purer than milk, more ruddy than the old ivory, fairer than the sapphire.' The whole physical creation in all its beauty and magnificence is signified by these four things, and

• Lam. iv. 7, 8. higher than all is the soul of man and its operations— that is, the Nazarites with their long hair— which, when ordered, not according to the commandments of God, that is, when occupied with created things, is now made blacker than coals. All this and far greater ruin befalls the soul's beauty from the indulgence of unruly desires. 3. So, then, if my object were to describe the foul and corrupt condition to which the desires reduce the soul, I should not be able to find anything so full of cobwebs and worms, not even corruption itself, wherewith to compare it. For though the disordered soul in its natural substance be as perfect as God has made it, its reasonable substance is foul, filthy, and dark, overladen with all these evils and even more. Even one unruly desire— as I shall hereafter explain*— though not a mortal sin, sullies and deforms the soul, and indisposes it for the perfect union with God, until it be cast away. What, then, must be the corruption of that soul which is wholly disordered, which has abandoned itself to the sway of its desires, and how far removed from the purity of God ? No language can describe, no understanding can comprehend, the diverse impurities which diverse desires produce in the soul.

4. If, indeed, any description of this could be given, so that men might understand it, it would be a matter tor wonder and for great pity : for each desire, according to its nature and intensity, deposits the filth and sediment of corruption and uncleanness in the soul, everyone in its own way. For as the soul of the just man, in one single perfection, which is the justice thereof, possesses in- numerable most rich gifts, and many virtues of exceeding beauty, everyone of them lovely, different from each other according to the multitude and variety of the acts of the love ot God ; so the disordered soul in the same way, according to the multitude of the desires, the object of which are created things, contracts a miserable diversity of vileness and impurity, with which these desires pollute it. 5. These diverse pollutions are described by the prophet Ezechiel, when God showed him the interior of the temple with its walls painted round about with the likenesses of creeping things, and all abominable and unclean beasts : 1 1 went in,' saith the prophet, ' and saw, and behold every form of creeping things, and of living creatures, the abomination and all the idols of the house of Israel were painted on the wall round about/* When the prophet had seen this, God said to him, * Surely thou seest, O son of man, what the ancients of the house of Israel do in the dark, everyone in private in his chamber. Turn thee again ; thou shalt see greater abominations/ The prophet turned, and 'behold women sat there mourning for Adonis/ * Turn thee again,' said God to the prophet, 'and thou shalt see greater abominations than these/ And then the prophet saw ' at the door of the temple of the Lord, between the porch and the altar, five-and-twenty men having their backs to the temple of the Lord/t

6. The various creeping things and unclean beasts painted on the walls of the temple within are the thoughts and conceptions of the intellect derived from the vile # Ezech. viii io. * Eiech. via. 14, 16. things of earth and of other created things, which, because contrary to those that are eternal, defile the temple of the soul ; and the soul by means thereof, embarrasses the understanding, which is its first court. The women in the second court. * Mourning for Adonis ' are the desires of the will, the second faculty of the soul ; these weep, as it were, when they covet that on which the will is bent, that is, the unclean things painted on the understanding. The men in the. third court are the fancies and imaginations resulting from created objects which the third faculty of the soul, the memory, preserves and dwells on. These had their backs to the temple of the Lord : for when the faculties of the soul have been completely occupied with any object of earth, the soul itself may be said to have turned its back upon God's temple, which is right reason, and which tolerates nothing that is in opposition to God.

7. Let this suffice for the present to give us some insight into the foul disorder which desires engender in the soul. For were I to treat separately of the hindrance to the divine union which these imperfections and their varieties occasion ; of that of venial sin, which is much greater than that of imperfections, and of its varieties ; and also of mortal sin, which is complete defilement, and of its various forms, I should never come to an end. What I say — and it is to the purpose — is, that every single desire, though it be but the slightest imperfection, darkens the soul, and hinders its perfect union with God.

The desires make the soul lukewarm, and enfeeble virtue. The fifth evil inflicted on the soul by its desire is lukewarmness and feebleness, so that it has no strength to follow after virtue nor to persevere therein. As the strength of desire is diminished when applied to many objects, instead of being concentrated upon one, and the more numerous the objects embraced, the less is the energy with which each is sought, so philosophers say, is it with virtue, which is more vigorous when intent on one object than when it is wasted upon more. It is, therefore, clear that if the desire of the will be directed to other objects than virtue it must be very weak in the pursuit thereof. The soul whose will is divided among trifles, is like water which never rises, because it has an outlet below, and is therefore profitless. Thus it was that the patriarch Jacob compared Ruben his son to * water poured out,' because he had given way to his desires in a certain sin: 'Thou art poured out as water, grow thou not;'* that is, because thqu art poured out as water in thy desires thou shalt not grow in virtue. As boiling water left uncovered quickly loses its heat, and as aromatic spices exposed to the air gradually lose their fragrance and the strength of their perfume, so the soul not recollected in the love of God alone loses the heat and vigour of virtue. This truth was well understood by the Psalmist when he said, €I will keep my strength to Thee/t that is, I will concentrate the strength of my affections on Thee alone.

• Gen. xlix. 4. t Ps. lviii. 10b 2. The desires enfeeble the soul, for they are like the little twigs and suckers which grow on a tree, sapping its strength so that it shall not be so fruitful. Of sucK souls our Saviour says : * Woe unto them that are with child, and that give suck in those days.'* This signifies the desires, which, if not cut off, will continually lessen the strength of the soul, and grow to be its ruin, like the suckers on a tree. Our Lord, therefore, warns us, saying, 'Let your loins be girt.'t The loins are the desires; they are also like leeches sucking the blood from the veins, for so the wise man calls them, saying, * The horse leech hath two daughters/ the desires, * that say, bring, bring.' J 3. It is, therefore, evident that the desires bring no good at all to the soul, but rather deprive it of what it has, and if we do not mortify them, they will not rest until they have done what the young vipers are said to do to their mother : these, as they grow in the womb, devour the entrails of their mother, and kill her, preserving their own life at the cost of hers. Thus the unmortified desires grow and devour the soul, killing the life of God within it. They alone live in that soul, because that soul has not destroyed them first. This it is that made the wise man pray: 'Take from me the greediness ot the belly.' §

4. But even if the desires do not issue in this great calamity, it is lamentable to see how they torture the poor soul in which they dwell — how hateful to itself they render it, how profitless to its neighbours, how dull • S. Matt. xxiv. 19. + S. Luke xii. 35. t Ptot. xxx, 15, $ Eccles. xxiii. 6. and slothful in the things of God. There are no corrupt humours which can so bow down a sick man, enfeeble him in his gait, and make him loathe his proper food, as the desire of the creature bows down the soul in sadness, and indisposes it for the practice of virtue. And, in general, the reason why many souls have no love or inclination for virtue is, that they entertain affections and desires which are not innocent nor directed towards our Lord God

The necessity of freedom from all desires, however slight, for the divine union. It seems reasonable here for the reader to ask, whether it be necessary to mortify completely every desire, small and great, before perfection can be reached, or whether it will be enough to have mortified some of them, overlooking others — at least those which seem of less moment —because it is a matter most difficult to attain to such pureness and detachment, as to have no affection for anything remaining in the will. 2. To this I reply : in the first place, it is true that all the desires are not equally hurtful, rieither do they all perplex the soul in the same degree. I am speaking of those which are voluntary : for the natural desires, when we do not consent to them, and when they do not pass beyond the first movements, do but slightly or not at all stand in the way of union. By natural and first movements I mean all those in which the rational will had no share, either before or after they arose : for to banish and mortify these completely is, in this life, impossible. The hindrance which these create is not such as to prevent the divine union, though they may not be wholly mortified ; they may remain in their natural state, and yet the soul in its spiritual part may be most free from them. For it will sometimes happen that the soul enjoys the profound union of quiet in the will, while these remain in the sensual portion of man's nature, but having no communication with the spiritual portion occupied in prayer.

3. But all the other voluntary desires, whether of mortal sins, which are the most grievous, or of venial sins, which are less so, or imperfections only, which are still less so, must be banished away, and the soul which would attain to perfect union must be delivered from them all, however slight they may be. The reason is this: the state of divine union consists in the total transformation of the will into the will of God, in such a way that every movement of the will shall be always the movement of the will of God only. This is the reason why, in this state, two wills are said to be one — my will and God's will — so that the will of God is also that of the soul. But if the soul then cleaves to any imperfection, contrary to the will of God, His will is not done, for the soul wills that which God wills not. It is clear, therefore, that, if the soul is to be united in love and will with God, every desire of the will must first of all be cast away, however slight it may be ; that is, we must not deliberately and knowingly assent with the will to any imperfection, and we must have such power over it, and

such liberty, as to reject every such desire the moment we are aware of it. I say knowingly, for without deliberation .and a clear perception of what we are doing, or because it is not wholly in our power, we may easily give way to imperfections and venial sins, and to those natural desires of which I have just spoken. It is of such sins as these, not so entirely voluntary, that it is written : 'A just man shall fall seven times, and shall rise again. 4. But as to those voluntary and perfect deliberate desires, how slight soever their objects may be, any one of them, not overcome, is sufficient to prevent this union. I am speaking of the unmortified habit thereof, because certain acts occasionally have not so much power, for the habit of them is not settled; still we must get rid of them, for they, too, proceed from habitual imperfection. Some habits of voluntary imperfections, so far as they are never perfectly overcome, hinder not only the divine union but our progress towards perfection. 5. These habitual imperfections are, for instance, much talking, certain attachments, which we never resolve to break through — such as to individuals, to a book or a cell, to a particular food, to certain society, the satisfaction of one's taste, science, news, and such things. Everyone of these imperfections, if the soul is attached and habituated to them, results in serious injuries to our growth and progress in goodness. Yea, even if we fall daily into many other imperfections greater than these, provided they are not the result of the habitual indulgence of any evil inclination, we should not be so much

* Prov. xxiv. 1 6. hindered in our spiritual course as we are by this selfish attachment of the soul to particular objects; for while the soul entertains it, it is useless to hope that we can ever attain to perfection, even though the object of our attachment be but of the slightest importance possible. 6. Does it make any difference whether a bird be held by a slender thread or by a rope, while the bird is bound and cannot fly till the cord that holds it is broken ? It is true that a slender thread is more easily broken, still, notwithstanding, if it is not broken the bird cannot fly. This is the state of a soul with particular attachments : it never can attain to the liberty of the divine union, whatever virtues it may possess. Desires and attachments affect the soul as the remora is said to affect a ship ; that is but a little fish, yet when it clings to the vessel it effectually hinders its progress. 7. How sad it is to see certain souls, like vessels richly freighted, full of good works, of spiritual exercises, virtues and gifts of God, which, because they have not the courage to break with certain tastes, attachments, or affections — these are all one — never reach the haven of perfect union. And yet it would cost them but a single vigorous flight to break the thread of their attachment or to shake off the remora of desire. It is a matter of deep regret, when God has given them strength to burst other and stronger bonds— those of vanity and sins — merely because they will not detach themselves from trifles, which God has left for them to break away from for love of Him, and which are no more than a single thread— that they should for this neglect their own advancement and the attainment of so great a blessing.

And what is still more deplorable, because of such attachments, not only do they not advance, but, so far as perfection is concerned, they fall back, losing in some measure what they had already gained with so much labour. For it is well known that on the spiritual road not to go on overcoming self is to go backwards, and not to increase our gain is to lose. 8. This is what our Lord would teach us when He says, * He that gathereth not with me scattereth/ * He who will neglect to repair the vessel that is but slightly cracked, will at last lose all the liquor it may hold ; for in the words of the preacher * he that contemneth small things shall fall by little and little : ' f and 1 of one spark cometh a great fire.' + Thus one imperfection is enough to beget another, and this other, others again. We shall hardly ever see a soul, negligent in overcoming a single desire, which has not also many other desires arising out of the weakness and imperfection from which the first proceeds. There have been many persons who, by the grace of God, had made great progress in detachment and freedom, and yet because they gave way, under the pretence of some good— as of society and friendship — to petty attachments, have thereby lost the spirit and sweetness of God, holy solitude, and cheerfulness, and have injured the integrity of their spiritual exercises, so as to be unable to stop before all was gone. All this has befallen them because they did not root out the principle of pleasure and of the sensual desires, keeping themselves in solitude for God.

9. We must ever walk on this road so as to reach the ♦ S. Matt. xii. 30. t Eccles. xix. I. X Ibid. xi. 34. end ; that is, in the constant repression of our desires, and not in their indulgence : and if we do not perfectly repress them we shall never perfectly reach the end. As wood can never be transformed into fire if but one degree of heat necessary for that end be wanting-, so the soul that has but one imperfection can never be perfectly transformed in God, as I shall hereafter explain when speaking of the night of faith.* The soul has but one will ; and if this will be occupied or embarrassed, it is not free, perfect, solitary, and pure, as it ought to be for this divine transformation. This truth is foreshadowed in the book of Judges, where we read that an angel of the Lord came to the children of Israel and told them that, because they had not destroyed the inhabitants of the land, but had made a league with some of them, these, therefore, would be left among them as their enemies, and an occasion to them of their fall and destruction : * Wherefore I would not destroy them from before your face, that you may have enemies, and their gods may be your ruin.' t

10. God is just in thus dealing with those souls whom He has led forth out of the Egypt of this world, for whom He has slain the giants of their sins, and whose enemies He has destroyed, which are the occasions of sin which they meet with in the world, and all this for the sole purpose of their entrance into the promised land of the pivine union. He is just, I say, in thus dealing with them, when He sees them form friendships, and become confederate with the heathen, which are their imperfections ; when they do not mortify themselves wholly, • Bk. ii. 4. t Judges ii. 3. [CHAP. Xlt] OF MOUttt CARMEL. 51 but are negligent and slothful in their lives : for this, then, He becomes angry with them, and suffers them to fall through their desires from bad to worse. 11. This truth is also shadowed forth in the command ot God to Josue when the children of Israel were about to enter into the land of promise. The city of Jericho was to be utterly destroyed and all that was within, man and \ woman, young and old, together with the cattle ; and the people were not to take, nor even to touch any of the spoil thereof.* He, therefore, that will enter into the divine union must put to death all that lives in his soul, whether small or great, many or few ; he must abstain from all desire thereof, and be completely detached therefrom, as if neither existed for the other.

12. St. Paul, writing to the Corinthians, says the same thing : * This therefore I say, brethren, the time is short : it remaineth, that they also who have wives be as if they had none, and they that weep, as though they wept not, and they that rejoice as if they rejoiced not, and they that buy as though they possessed not, and they that use this world as if they used it not/ t The apostle teaches here that we must be detached in spirit from the world if we would walk so as to attain unto God.

The nature of those desires which suffice to injure the soul. I MIGHT have spoken at greater length of the night of sense, as much may be said of the evil which the • Josue vi. i8, 21. t I Cor. vii. 29-31 desires occasion, not only in the way described, but in many others as well ; but this is enough for my purpose, because it is now clear why the mortification of them is called night, and how necessary it is to enter into this night in order to draw near unto God. 2. One thing only remains for discussion before I speak of the way by which this night is entered upon, and so conclude this book — namely, a doubt which might be suggested to the reader by the matter in hand. It might be asked, in the first place, whether any desire be enough to produce in the soul these positive and negative evils of which I have spoken, and in the second place, whether any desire, however slight, and of whatever kind, be enough to produce all these five evils together, or whether each desire produces a distinct evil, as one desire weariness, another pain, and another darkness.

3. To this I reply as follows : — In the first place, if we are speaking of the negative evil, which consists in the soul's being deprived of God, it is only those voluntary desires which are the matter of mortal sin that can, and do, result in this : for these rob the soul in this life of grace, and in the next of glory, which is the fruition of God. And in the second place, that all desires, which are the matter of mortal sin, and those voluntary desires, which are matter of venial sin, and those which are imperfections, are, everyone of them, enough to inflict on the soul the positive evils. These evils, though in one sense negative, are here called positive, because they correspond to a turning towards the creature, as the negative evils correspond to a turning away from God, 4. There is, however, this difference : those desires which are matter of mortal sin produce complete blindness, pain, impureness, and weakness. But those other desires, matter of venial sin, or known imperfection, do not produce these evils in this perfect and supreme degree, seeing that they do not cast the soul out of the state of grace : for the loss of grace is concurrent with the dominion of these evils over the soul, because their life consists in the death of grace. Still they occasion somewhat ot these evils, though but remissly, proportional to that weakness and remissness which they generate in the soul ;

so that the particular desire which most weakens the soul is most fruitful in pain, blindness and impureness. But it is to be remarked that, though every desire generates all these evils, which we here call positive, there are some which chiefly and directly produce particular evils, and other evils incidentally. For though it is true that one sensual desire produces all these evils, yet its chief and proper fruit is the defilement of soul and body. Though one avaricious desire also produces all these evils, yet its principal and direct result is trouble. Though one vainglorious desire, precisely like the rest, produces all these evils, yet its chief and immediate effect is darkness and blindness. And, though one gluttonous desire issues in the same evils, yet still its primary direct result is weakness in those things that pertain to virtue. The same may be said of all other desires.

5. The reason why any act of voluntary desire produces all these evils in the soul together, is that contrariety which subsists directly between it and those acts of virtue which result in opposite effects. As an act of virtue pro- duces and generates in the soul sweetness, peace, consolation, light, pureness, and fortitude together, so an unruly desire begets pain, fatigue, weariness, blindness, and weakness. All virtues increase by the practice of each ; so also vices thrive and grow, and their effects in the soul in the same way. Though all these evils are not visible then when the desire is gratified, because the satisfaction thereof furnishes at the time no opportunity for them, yet afterwards the evil results become clearly visible. For the desire, when it is fulfilled, is sweet, and appears good, but afterwards the effects thereof are found to be bitter, which is the experience of everyone who has suffered himself to be led away thereby. I am not ignorant, however, that there are some so blind and so insensible as not to feel this : they do not walk in the ways of God, and therefore see not that which hinders their drawing near unto Him.

6. I am not speaking here of those other natural desires which are involuntary, nor of thoughts which do not go beyond the first movements, nor of other temptations to which we consent not, because none of these produce any of the evils I describe. Though a person liable to these trials may imagine that the passion and disturbance thus occasioned darken and defile his soul, in reality it is not so— yea, rather the contrary effects are sometimes the result of them. Because, in proportion to the resistance offered, such an one gains strength, pureness, light, consolation, and many other good things, according to the words of our Lord to St. Paul : * Virtue is made perfect in infirmity.'* But voluntary desires produce * 2 Cor. xiL 9. these and more evils. For this cause the chief solicitude of spiritual directors is to mortify the desires of their penitents, and to make them deny themselves in all that is pleasing to them, so as to deliver them from so great misery. How the soul enters by faith into the night of sense. It now remains for me to give some directions by which the soul may be able to enter this night of sense. Ordinarily, the soul enters this night in two ways : one is the active way, the other is the passive. The active way is that by which the soul is able to make, and does make, efforts of its own to enter in, assisted by divine grace.

* v Of this I shall speak in the instructions that follow. The passive way is that in which the soul does nothing as ot itself, neither does it make therein any efforts of its own ; but it is God who works in it, giving special aids, and the soul is, as it were, patient, freely consenting thereto. Of this I shall speak when treating of the dark night, where I shall speak of those who are beginners. And as I shall have then to give many counsels to such with reference to the many imperfections to which they are liable on this road, I shall not enlarge on that question now. Besides, this is not the place to do so, for I am now concerned only with the reasons why this journey is called night, with the nature and divisions of the same. But as it seems a defect, and not so profitable as it should be, to abstain here from furnishing some help or instructions proper for this night of the desires, I have deter-

mined to lay down the brief instruction following. I shall adopt the same course at the conclusion of each of these divisions or causes of this night, of which by the help of our Lord I undertake to speak. 2. These instructions for the subduing of our desires are, in my opinion, though brief and few, as profitable and effectual as they are brief. He who will reduce them to practice will need none others, for they include every thing. 3— 1. Be continually careful and earnest in imitating Christ in everything, conforming thyself to His life : for this end thou must meditate thereon, that thou mayest know how to imitate it, and conduct thyself in all things as He would have done Himself. 4— 2. To do this well, every satisfaction offered to the senses, which is not for God's honour and glory, must be renounced and rejected for the love of Jesus Christ, Who in this life had, and sought, no other pleasure than doing the will of His Father, which was His meat,* as He tells us Himself. For instance, if the pleasure of listening to anything which tends not to the service of God presents itself, seek not that pleasure, neither give ear to what is said. If thou art offered the sight, pleasurable in itself, of things which do not lead thee nearer to God, seek not that pleasure, and abstain from that sight. Do the same also in conversation and every other commerce of society. Practise the same mortification with respect to the other senses, as far as possible ; and if it be not possible, it will be enough not to seek the pleasure that is offered. Thus the mortification oj

• S. John iv. 34. the senses and the absence of all pleasure must be striven after, so that the soul may be as in darkness. The practice of this counsel will bring with it great profit in a short time. 5. In order to mortify and calm the four natural passions of joy, hope, fear, and grief, from the concord and tranquility of which result these and other great advantages, the following instructions are a perfect means of great merit and the source of great virtues 6. Strive always, not after that which is most easy, but after that which is most difficult. Not after that which is most pleasant, but after that which is most unpleasant. Not after that which giveth pleasure, but after that which giveth none. Not after that which is consoling, but after that which is afflictive. Not after that which ministers repose, but after that which ministers labour. Not after great things, but after little things. Not after that which is higher and precious, but after that which is lower and despised. Strive not to desire anything, but rather nothing. Seek not after that which is better, but after that which is worse, and desire to be detached from all things, empty and poor for Christ's sake. This state is to be embraced with a perfect heart, and the will must conform thereto. Because if our heart be truly engaged in these efforts, we shall ifl a short time attain to great

joy and consolation therein, doing our work orderly with discretion. 7. These instructions, well acted upon, are sufficient for our entrance on the night of sense. But still, out of the abundance of the matter, I will give another method, which teaches us how to mortify truly the desire of honour, from which so many others proceed. 8 — 1. Do those things which bring thee into contempt, and desire that others also may do them. 2. Speak disparagingly of thyself, and contrive that others may do so too. 3. Think humbly and contemptuously of thyself and desire that others may do so also. 9 — I think it fitting, in conclusion, to insert here certain instructions for ascending to the summit of Mount Carmel, which is the high estate of union. Though the doctrine they contain is spiritual and interior, it relates also to the- spirit of imperfection in sensible and exterior things, which may be met with in the two roads on either side of the way of perfection. We shall, therefore, take these sentences in this sense, namely, as referring to sensible things, and afterwards, in the second division of the night, we shall take them as referring to that which is spiritual. They are these—

10 — 1. That thou mayest have pleasure in everything, seek pleasure in nothing. * 2. That thou mayest know everything, seek to know nothing. 3. That thou mayest possess all things, seek to possess nothing. 4. That thou mayest be everything, seek to be nothing. 5. That thou mayest attain to that in which thou hast no pleasure, thou must walk there where thou hast no pleasure. 6. That thou mayest attain to that which thou knowest not, thou must go through that which thou knowest not. 7. That thou mayest attain to that which thou possessest not, thou must go through that which thou possessest not. 8. That thou mayest attain to that which thou art not, thou must go through that which thou art not. 11. Instructions how*not to impede the All. 1. When thou dwellest upon anything, thou hast ceased to cast thyself upon the All. 2. Because in order to arrive from all to the All, thou hast to deny thyself wholly in all. 3. And when thou comest to attain the All, thou must keep it without desiring anything. 4. Because if thou wilt keep anything with the All, thou hast not thy treasure simply in God.

12. In detachment the spirit finds quiet and repose, for coveting nothing, nothing wearies it by elation, and fiothing oppresses it by dejection, because it stands in the centre of its own humility ; for as soon as it covets anything it is immediately fatigued thereby.

Explanation of the second line of the stanza. With anxious love inflamed. Now that I have explained the first line of the stanza, which relates to the sensual night, and described what the night of sense is, and why it is called night, and have also shown how we are to enter it in the active way, it remains for me here to treat of its wonderful properties and effects, which are described in the following lines of this stanza. I touch but lightly upon them, as I promised in the prologue, and pass on at once to the second book, which describes the other, the spiritual, division of this night. 2. The words of the soul then are, 'with anxious love inflamed.' The soul has passed out and gone forth in the dark night of sense to the union of the Beloved. For, in order to overcome our desires, and to deny ourselves in all things, our love and inclination for which are wont so to inflame the will that it delights therein, we require another and greater fire of another and nobler love— that of the Bridegroom — so that having all our joy in Him, and deriving from Him all our strength, we may gain such resolution and courage as shall enable us easily to abandon and deny all besides. It was necessary, in order to subdue our sensual desires, not only to have this love for the Bridegroom, but also to be on fire therewith, and that with anxiety.* For the fact is, that our sensual nature is influenced by such vehement

desires, and attracted by sensible objects, that if our I spiritual nature were not on fire with other and nobler anxieties — anxieties for that which is spiritual — we should never overcome our natural and sensible satisfactions, nor be able to enter on the night of sense, neither should we have the courage to remain in the darkness, in the denial of every desire. 3. The nature and varieties of these anxieties of love, which the soul feels in the beginning of the way of union, the carefulness and the contrivances it employs that it may go forth out of its own house, which is selfwill, into the night of the mortification of the senses ; how easy, and even pleasant, these longings for the Bridegroom make the toils and dangers of that night— this is not the place to explain, neither, indeed, can it be done ; for these things are rather to be felt and meditated upon than matters for description : so I shall pass on to the explanation of the other lines in the following chapter. • O HAPPY lot ! forth unobserved I went, my house being now at rest/ This is a metaphor derived from the miserable condition of slavery. He who is delivered therefrom, pronounces his own a happy lot when none of his jailers hinder his release. The soul, because of original sin, is truly a prisoner in this mortal body, in the power of natural passions and desires, and therefore counts it a happy lot when it has gone forth unobserved

Explanation of the last lines. from this slavery and subjection, that is, unimpeded and unembarrassed by all its desires. To effect this, it was advantageous for the soul to have departed in the dark night, in the denial of every pleasure, and in the mortification of every desire. 2. 'My house being now at rest/ that is, the sensual part of the soul, the house of the desires being now at rest, because those desires are overcome and lulled to sleep. For until the desires be lulled to sleep by the mortification of sensuality, and sensuality itself be mortified in them, so that it shall be contrary to the spirit no more, the soul cannot go forth in perfect liberty to the fruition of the union with the Beloved.

In darkness, and in safety, By the secret ladder, disguised, O happy lot! In darkness and concealment, My house being now at rest. HERE the soul sings of that happy lot, attained by detachment of spirit from all spiritual imperfections, and selfish desires in spiritual things. This was a happiness so much the greater, because of the greatness of the difficulty which the soul had to encounter in tranquilizing the house of the spiritual part, and in effecting an entrance into the interior darkness, which is spiritual detachment from all things, as well sensual as spiritual, leaning only on a living faith — it is of this I speak ordinarily, because I have to do with those who are walking in the way of perfection — and by it ascending upwards unto God. 2. This is here called a secret ladder, because all the steps and divisions of it are secret, hidden from sense and the understanding. Thus the soul is in darkness as to all natural light of sense and understanding, going forth beyond the limits of nature and of reason, that it may ascend by this divine ladder of the faith which reaches and penetrates into the heights of God. Hence the soul is said to have gone forth in disguise, because its natural condition was divinely changed, ascending upwards by faith. And this disguise was the cause why it was unobserved, unimpeded by the things of time or reason, and by the devil himself : for none of these can hurt the soul while travelling onwards by living faith.

3. This is not all : the soul travels in such secrecy and concealment, and the devil with his wiles is so ignorant of its way, that it journeys truly, as it is here said, ' in darkness and concealment/ so far as the evil one is concerned, to whom the light of the faith is more than darkness. Thus the soul, which thus walks, is said to walk in darkness, hidden from the devil, as I shall more clearly explain hereafter/* 4. This is the reason why it is said that the soul went forth ' in darkness and in safety .' For he to whom is granted the happiness of walking in the darkness of the faith, having faith for his guide, walks in the utmost security when he goeth forth beyond all natural imaginations and spiritual reasonings. And so it is added, that the soul went forth in the spiritual night, * my house being now at rest,' that is, the rational and spiritual parts. When the soul attains to the divine union, its natural powers, impulses, and sensible anxieties in the spiritual part, are at rest. It is, therefore, not said here that the soul went forth anxiously, as in the first night of sense, because the anxieties of

* Dark Night, Book ii., ch. 21. sensible love were necessary for a perfect departure then, so as to journey in the night of sense, and to be detached from all objects of the same. But in order to perfect the tranquility of the house of the spirit, no more is required than the confirmation of all the powers of ttfe soul, all its pleasures and spiritual desires* in pure faith- This done, the soul is united with the Beloved in a certain union of. simplicity, pureness, love, and resemblance. 7. In the first stanza, speaking of the sensual part, the soul went forth in a. dark night ; and here* speaking of the spiritual part, <!in darkness,' because this: darkness of the spiritual part is greater, as darkness is a deeper gloom than that of the night ; for, however, gloomy' the night may be, still something is visible, but in darknesa nothing is visible. Thus, in the night of sense, there remains still some light, because the understanding remains, and the reason also, which are not blind, But in this spiritual night, the night of faith, all, is darkness, both in the. understanding and the sense. The soul says that it went forth 4 in darkness and in safety,' which it said not in the first stanza, and the reason is that the soul, when it least uses its own proper ability, travels most securely, because it walks most by faith.

I shall explain this matter at great length in the present book, to which I request the benevolent attention of the devout reader, because it will contain things most important to the truly, spiritual man. Thougji they are somewhat obscure, yet one question will open the way to another, so that, as I believe,, all, will be well The second part, or cause of this night— Faith. Two reasons I HAVE now to treat of the second part of this night — faith— which is that wonderful means of reaching the goal, which is God, Who, as I said,* is also to the soul, naturally, the third cause or division of this night. Faith, which is the mean, is compared to midnight, and thus it may be said, that faith is to the soul darker than the first part, and in a way also darker than the third : for the first part, that of the senses, is like the beginning of night, when* sensible objects cease 'to be visible, and is not so far removed from light as midnight is. The third part, that which immediately precedes daybreak, is not so dark as midnight, because the clear night of morning is at hand ; this is compared with God.

Though it is true,' speaking after the manner of men that God is as dark a light to the soul as faith, yet because God Himself, when the three divisions of this night are over— which are naturally the night of the soul— illumines it supernaturally with the rays of the divine light in a higher and nobler way, experimentally —which is the commencement of the perfect union which ensues when the third night is past— it may be said to be less dark. It is also darker than the first part, which relates to the lower, the sensual, nature of man, and consequently the more exterior. The second night, of faith, relates to the higher, to the rational, nature of why it is darker than the first and third. [CHAP, m.] OF MOUNT CARMEL. (ff man, and is therefore more interior and obscure, because it deprives us of the light of reason, or rather, to speak more clearly, makes it blind. Thus the comparison between it and midnight is made good : for that is the most obscure and most perfect portion of the night. I have now to show how this second division — the night of faith— is the night of the spirit, as the first division is the night of sense, and then what those things are which are contrary to it, and how the soul is to be disposed actively for entering into it. For as to the 9 passive way, which is the work of God, I reserve it for another opportunity— for the third book of this treatise.

Faith, the dark night of the souL Proofs from reason and the Holy Scriptures. Faith, according to theologians, is a habit of the soul, certain and obscure. The reason why it is an obscure habit is that it makes us believe the truths which God Himself has revealed— truths surpassing the light of reason, and fceyond the reach of all human understanding. Hence it is that the excessive light of the faith is obscure darkness to the soul, because it subdues that which is great, and destroys that which is little, as the light of the sun puts out all other lights so that they appear not, and subdues our power of vision. As the sun blinds the eyes and robs them of the vision which it gives, because its own light is out of proportion with, and stronger than, our power of sight, so the light of faith, by reason of its greatness and the mode in which God communicates it, transcends our understanding, which in itself reaches only to natural knowledge, though gifted with the power of obeying in that which is supernatural when it is the will of our I*ord to bring it to a supernatural action. The understanding, therefore, can of itself know nothing but in a natural way, the beginning of which is in the senses, and in no other way. For this end it retains the forms ^nd species of objects either in themselves or in their resemblances ; for as the philosophers say, knowledge results from an object and the faculty. Ab objecto et potentia paritur notitia.

2. If a man were told of things he knows nothing of, and the like of which he has never seen, no light could be thrown on them, so far as he is concerned, any more than if they had never been spoken of in his presence. For instance, if you were told that there is in a certain island an animal which you have never seen, and no description of it were given you, so that you might compare it with other animals, your knowledge of it, or what it resembles, is not greater than it would have been if you had never been told of it. I will give another illustration which will make the matter still more clear : if you tell a person blind from his birth that one object is white, another yellow, he would never understand what you mean, though you may speak to him for ever, because he has never seen such colours or anything like them, so as to have any opinion on the subject. The word colour only will remain with him, because that reaches him through the ear, but the form and figure thereof escape him because he has never seen the m.

[chap, m.] OF MOUNT CARMEL. e& 3. Such is faith to the soul, though the resemblance is not exact in all points ; faith tells us of things we have never seen, of things of which we had no previous knowledge, either in themselves or in aught resembling them, and to which we never could have attained but by revelation. The light of natural knowledge cannot inform us of these things, because they are out of proportion with our natural senses. We know them because we have heard of them, believing that which the faith teaches us, subjecting thereto our natural light, and making ourselves blind before it : for, as it is said by St Paul, € faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by the word of Christ.'* Faith is not knowledge that entereth in by any of the senses, but rather the ascent of the soul to that which cometh by hearing. Faith, therefore, far transcends the foregoing illustrations : for not only does it not produce evidence or knowledge, but, as I have said, it transcends and surpasses all other knowledge whatever, so that perfect contemplation alone may judge of it. Other sciences are acquired by the light of the understanding, but that of faith is acquired without it, by rejecting it for faith, and it is lost in its own light. Therefore it is said by Isaias, ' If you will not believe you shall not understand.' t

4. It is evident that faith is a dark night to the soul, and it is thus that it gives it light ; the more it darkens the soul the more does it enlighten it. It is by darkening that it gives light, according to the words of the prophet, •If you will not believe,' that is, 'if you do not make * Rom. x. 17. t Is. Yii. 9, according to the Sept. yourselves blind you shall not understand '—that is, you shall not have light, the high and supernatural knowledge. 5. The faith was foreshadowed by the cloud which divided the Egyptians from the children of Israel at the entrance of the Red Sea. 'It was a dark cloud enlightening the night.'* How wonderful a cloud!— its darkness illumines the night. Faith, then, which is a dark cloud, obscure to the soul— and night also, for in the presence of faith the soul is blind, without its own natural light— enlightens with its own obscurity, and illumines the darkness of the soul, so that the master becomes like the disciple. For man who is in darkness cannot be rightly enlightened except by darkness, as the Psalmist saith, 'Day to day uttereth speech, and night to night showeth knowledge.' t The 'day' is God in everlasting bliss, where it is perpetual day, who communicates and reveals His Word, the Son, to the blessed angels and the holy souls, who are also now day, so that they may know Him and rejoice in Him.

'Night,' which is the faith in the Church militant, where it is still night, showeth knowledge to the Church, and consequently to every soul, which is also night, because it does not as yet enjoy the clear beatific vision, and because in the presence of faith its natural light is extinguished. The teaching set before us here then is, that the faith, which is dark night, illumines the soul which is in darkness, according to the words of the Psalmist, 'Night shall be my light in my pleasures,' J that is, in the pleasures of pure contemplation and of union with

•Ex. xW. 30. f Pi. xriii 3. X Pt. cxxxviii. II. God, the night of faith shall guide me. The soul, therefore, must be in darkness that it may have light, and be able to journey on this road.

How the soul must be in darkness, in order to be duly guided by faith to the highest contemplation. I BELIEVE that I have now in some measure explained how faith is the dark night of the soul, and how also the soul must be in darkness, or deprived of its natural light, that it may be guided by faith to this high end of union. But that the soul may know how to effect this, it is necessary that I should explain somewhat more minutely this darkness which must cover [it that it may enter into the abyss of faith. I shall, therefore, in this chapter, speak of that in general, and by and by, with the help of God, more particularly of the way which the soul must keep, that it may not go astray in the darkness, nor put obstacles before its guide. 2. 1 say, then, that the soul, to be rightly guided by faith to this state, must be in darkness, not only as to that part thereof— the sensual and the inferior, of which I have already spoken— which regards temporal and created things, but also as to that part thereof, the rational and the superior, of which I am now speaking, which regards God and spiritual things. Because it is clearly necessary for the soul, aiming at its own supernatural transformation, to be in darkness and far removed from all that relates to its natural condition, the sensual

76 THE ASCENT [flOOfC U.] and national parts. The supernatural is that which transcends nature, and, therefore, that which ifc natural remains below. Inasmuch as this union and transformation are not cognisable by sense or any human power, the soul must be completely and voluntarily empty of all that can enter irito it, of every affection and inclination, so far as it concerns itself. Who shall hinder God from doing His own will in a soul that is resigned, detached, and self-annihilated? The soul, therefore, must be emptied of all such feelings; and however great may be its supernatural endowments, it must 1j8 as it were detached from them, in darkness like a blind man, leaning on the obscure faith, and taking it fdr its light and guide; not trusting to anything it understands, tastes, feels, or imagines— for all this is darkness, Which will lead it astray, or keep it back; and faith is above all understanding, taste, and sense. 8. If the soul be not blind herein, and in total darkness as to all such things, it will never reach to those higher things which faith teaches. A blind man, if he be not totally blind, will not commit himself wholly to his guide, but because he sees a little he thinks a certain road secure, not seeing another which is better. Such an one leads his guide astray, because lie acts as if he saw, and has mdre authority in the matterihan his guide : so the soul, if it leans upon any understanding, sense, dr feeling of its own— all this, whatever it may be, is very little and very unlike to God— in order to travel along this road, is most easily led astray or hindered, because it is not perfectly blind in faith, which is its true guide, tills is the meaning of St Paul when he said, « He that

cometh to God must believe that He is/* He that Will draw near and unite himself unto God, must beltevie that He is. This is saying in effect, he that Will attain to the union of God must not rely on his own understanding, nor lean upon his own imagination, sense, or feeling, but must believe in the perfection of the divine essence, which is not cognisable by the understanding, desire, imagination, nor any sense of man, and which in this life can never be known as it is. Yea, in this life, our highest knowledge and deepest sense, perception, and understanding of God is infinitely distant from that which He is, and from the pure fruition of His presence. 4. Thus the Prophet cries out, 'The eye hath not seeh, O God, beside Thee, what things Thou hast prfeparad for them that wait for Thee ; ' t and S. Paul repeats his words, ' Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man, what things God hath prepared for them that love Him/ + How much soever, then, the soul may desire to be perfectly united by grace in this life to that whereunto it is to be united in glory in the next, Which as St. Paul saith, eye hath not seen tior ear heard, and which hath not entered into the heart df man in the flesh, Jt is evident, that in order to be perfectly united in this life in grace and love, it must live in utter darkness as to all that can enter by the eye, all that the ear receives, all that the fancy may imagine, or the heart conceive, which here signifies the soul. Greatly embarrassed, then, is the soul, on the road of the divine union, when it leans at all on its own understanding, sense, f imagination, judgment, will, ot any habits of its own, «

* Heb. xi. 6. t Is. Ixiy. 4. X I Cor. ii. 9. anything peculiar to itself, not knowing how to free and detach itself therefrom. For, as I have said, the goal to which it tends is beyond this, though this may be the highest thing it may know or feel, and it must, therefore go beyond, passing on to that which it knows not. 5. On this road, therefore, to abandon one's own way is to enter on the true way, or, to speak more correctly, to pass onwards to the goal ; and to forsake one's own way is "to enter on that which has none, namely God. p For the soul that attains to this state has no ways or methods of its own, neither does it, nor can it, lean upon anything of the kind. I mean ways of understanding, perceiving, or feeling, though it has all ways at the same time, as one who, possessing nothing, yet possesseth everything. For the soul courageously resolved on passing, interiorly and exteriorly beyond the limits of its own nature, enters inimitably within the supernatural, which has no measure, but contains all measure eminently within itself. To arrive there is to depart hence, going away, out of oneself, as far as possible, from this vile state to that which is the highest of all. Therefore, rising above all that may be known and understood, temporally and spiritually, the soul must earnestly desire to reach that which in this life cannot be known, an<2 which the heart cannot conceive ; and, leaving behind all actual and possible taste and feeling of sense and spirit, must desire earnestly to arrive at that which transcends all sense and all feeling./

6. Jn order that the soul may be free and unembarrassed for this end, it must in no wise attach itself— as I shall presently explain when I treat of this point— to anything it may receive in the sense or spirit, but esteem such as of much less importance. For the more importance the soul attributes to what it understands, feels, and imagines, and the greater the estimation it holds it in, whether it be spiritual or not, the more it detracts from the supreme good, and the greater will be its delay in attaining to it. On the other hand, the less it esteems all that it may have in comparison with the supreme good, the more does it magnify and esteem the supreme good, and consequently the greater the progress towards it. 7. In this way the soul draws nearer and nearer to the divine union, in darkness, by the way of faith which, though it be also obscure, yet sends forth a marvellous light. Certainly, if the soul will see, it thereby becomes instantly more blind as to God, than he who should attempt to gaze upon the sun shining in its strength. On this road, therefore, to have our own faculties in darkness is to see the light, according to the words of our Lord : ' For judgment I am come into this world, that they who see not may see, and they who see may become blind.' * This relates to the spiritual road : he who is in darkness, blind as to his own proper and natural light, shall see supernaturally, and he who shall rely on any light of his own, the greater will be his blindness, and the more he shall be hindered on the way of the divine union.

8. I think it necessary now, in order to avoid confusion, to explain the nature of the soul's union with God. This I intend to do in the following chapter, for if this be clearly understood, a great light will be thrown on that • S. John ix. 39. which is to follow. This, therefore, seems to me a fit place for the subject. For though it breaks in on the course of the present matter, still it is not beside the question, because it will help us to understand the subject before us. The next chapter then will be a sort of parenthesis, after which I shall return to the special discussion of the three powers of the soul in their relations to the three theological virtues with reference to the second nijght df the spirit. The union of the soul with God, A comparison. What I have hitherto written will, in some degree, explain the nature of that state which I have called the union of the soul with God, and therefore, what now follows will be so much the more intelligible. It is not my intention at present to describe, in particular, what is the union of the understanding, of the will, and of the memory ; what is the passing, and what the abiding union of these faculties, and what also is the perfect union, of which I shall speak hereafter ; it will be better understood in its proper place, where treating the same subject we may have a vivid illustration with the present explanation ; and there everything will be understood, and considered, and a better judgment arrived at.

2. Now I am speaking only of the perfect and abiding union in the Substance of the soul and its powers, so far as the union is a habit. Because, as to actual union, I shall explain hereafter how there is not, and cannot be in this

[chap, v.] of mount carmel. 77 life any abiding union in the faculties Qf the soul, but only that which is pa$ssing. / 3. In order then to understand what this union is, we must remember that m every soul, even that of the greatest sinner in the world, God dwells, and is substantially present. This way of union or presence of God, in the order of nature, subsists between Him and all His creatures. By this He preserves them in being, and if He withdraws it they immediately perish and cease to be^ And so when I speak of the union of the soul with God, I do not mean this substantial presence which is. in every creature, but that union and transformation of the soul in God by love which is only then accomplished when there subsists the likeness which love begets. For this reason shall this union be called the union of likeness, as the other is essential or substantial union ; this latter one is natural, the other is supernatural, which takes effect when two wills, the will of God, and the will of the soul, are conformed together, neither desiring aught repugnant to the other. Thus the soul, when it shall have driven away from itself all that is contrary to the divine will, becomes transformed in Go4by love,

4. This is to be understood not only of that which is contrary in act but also in habit* so that not only voluntary acts of imperfection must be got rid of, but the habit thereof as well. And because no creature can, by any actions or powers of its own, attain to that which is God, the soul must be therefore detached from all created things* from all actions and powers of its own* that is * See Spiritual Canticle Stanx. xi. 2. from its own understanding, liking, and feeling, so that passing by everything which is unlike to, and not in conformity with, God, it may attain to the receiving of His likeness, and resting upon nothing which is not His will, it may be thus transformed in Him. Though it be true, as I have said, that God is always in every soul, bestowing upon it, and preserving to it, by His presence, its natural being, yet for all this He does not always communicate the supernatural life. /For this is given only by love and grace, to which all souls do not attain ; and those who do, do not in the same degree, for some rise to higher degrees of love than others. /That soul, therefore, has greater communion with God, which is most advanced in love, that is, whose will is most conformable to the will of God. And that soul which has reached perfect conformity and resemblance is perfectly united with, and supernaturally transformed in, God.

For which cause, therefore, as I have already explained, the more the soul cleaves to created things, relying on its own strength, by habit and inclination, the less is it disposed for this union, because it does not completely resign itself into the hands of God, that He may transform it supernaturally. The soul has need, therefore, to be detached from these natural contrarieties and dissimilarities, that God, Who communicates Himself to it naturally, in the order of nature, may also communicate Himself supernaturally, in the order of grace.

5. This is the meaning of St. John when he said, 'born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God.' * It is as if he had said, 1 He gave • S. John i. 13. fCHAP. V.] OF MOUNT CARMEL. 79 power to be made the sons of God,' that is, to be transformed in God, only to those who are 'born, not of blood/ not of natural temperaments and constitutions, ' nor of the will of the flesh,' nor of our natural free will and capacities, and still less of the will of man, which includes every form of intellectual judgment and comprehension. To none of these gave He power to be made sons of God in all perfection, but only to those who are born of God ; to those regenerated by grace, first of all dead to all that is of the old man, rising above themselves to that which is supernatural, and receiving from God their new birth and sonship, surpassing every thought of man. For as our Lord saith, ' Unless a man be born again of water and the Holy Ghost, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God.'* He who shall not have been born again of the Holy Ghost shall not see the kingdom of God, which is the state of perfection. To be born again of the Holy Ghost in this life perfectly, is to be a soul most like unto God in purity without any stain of imperfection. Thus the pure transformation by participation of union may be effected, though not essentially.

6. In order that we may have a clearer notion of the one and the other, let us consider the following illustration : the sun, with its rays, strikes a window; but if that window be stained and unclean, the sun cannot shine throughout nor transform it perfectly into itself, as it would have done, had it been clean and unsullied. This depends not on the sun but on the window, so that if the latter were perfectly clean, the rays of the sun would so • S. John iii. 5. shine through it, and so transform it as to make it seem identical with the rays and to give forth the light thereof, though in truth the window, while it appears one with the rays of th$ sun, preserves still its own separate and distinct substance. In this case we might say that the window is a ray, or light, by participation. 7. Thus the soul resembles the window; the divine light of the presence of God in the order of nature, perpetually strikes upon it, or rather dwells within it The soul then by resigning itself, in removing from itself every spot and stain of the creature, which is to keep the will perfectly united to the will of God—for to love Him is to labour to detach ourselves from, and to divest ourselves ofj everything which is not God, for God's sakebecomes immediately enlightened by, and transformed in, God ;

because He communicates His own supernatural being in such a way that the soul seems to be God Himself and to possess the things of God. Such a union is then wrought when God bestows on the soul that supreme grace which makes the things of God and the soul one by the transformation which renders the one a partaker of the other. The soul seems to be God rather than itself, and indeed is God by participation, though in reality preserving its own natural substance as distinct from God as it did before, although transformed in Him, as the window preserves its own substance distinct from that of the rays of the sun shining through it and making it light.

8. Hence it becomes more evident that the fitting disposition for this union is, not that the soul should understand, taste, feel, or imagine anything pn the subject of [chap- v.] of mount carmel. 81 the nature of God, dr any othei* thing Whatever, but only that pureness and love which is perfect resignation, and complete detachment from all things for God alone. And as there cannot be any perfect transformation without perfect pureness, so in proportion to that pureness will be the enlightenment, illumination, and union of the soul with God, yet not wholly perfect if the sbul be tiot wholly purified and clean. The following illustration will make this plain : conceive a picture paiftted with exquisite taste and delicate finish, the lines of which are so admirably formed that by reason of their singular fineness they can with difficulty be observed. Now, he whose vision is imperfect will see only the less perfect portions of the picture, and he whose vision is clearer will see more of its beauties, and another with still better eyesight will see more, and, finally, he whose vision is the most perfect will see the most delicate excellencies of it, for the painting has so much beauty that the more it is observed the more remains to be seen. All this is applicable to those souls who are enlightened by God and in Him transformed. For though it be true that every soul, according to its measure, great or little, may attain to this union, yet all do not in an equal degree, but only as our Lord shall give unto each ;

as it is with the blessed in heaven, there some see God more perfectly than others, and yet all see Him and all are satisfied and happy, for each one is filled with the vision according to his merits, greater or less. Hence it comes to pass, that though souls in this life enjoy equal peace and tranquility in their state of perfection, everyone being satisfied, nevertheless o

some of them may be more advanced than the rest, in a higher degree of union, and yet all equally satisfied according to their several dispositions, and the knowledge they have of God. But that soul which does not attain to that degree of purity corresponding with the light and vocation it has received from God, will never obtain true peace and contentment, because it has not attained to that detachment, and emptiness of its powers, which are requisite for pure union. — The three theological virtues perfect the powers of the soul, and bring them into a state of emptiness and darkness. Proofs from S. Luke and Isaias. Having now to explain how the three powers of the soul, understanding, memory, and will, are to be brought into this spiritual night, which is the means of the divine union, it becomes necessary, in the first place, to discuss in this chapter how the three theological virtues, faith, hope, and charity— through the instrumentality of which the soul is united to God in its powers — effect this emptiness and darkness, each one in its own power : faith in the understanding, hope in the memory, and charity in the will. Afterwards, I shall show how the understanding is made perfect in the obscurity of faith, how the memory is made empty in hope, and how, also, the will is to withdraw and detach itself from every affection that it may ascend upwards unto God. This done, we shall see clearly how necessary it is for th§ soul, if it will travel securely along the spiritual road, to journey in the dark night, leaning on these three virtues, which

make it empty of all things and blind. For, as I have said, the soul is not united to God in this life by the understanding or feeling or imagination, or any other sense whatever, but only by faith in the understanding ; by hope, which may be referred to the memory— though also to the will— in so far as hope relates to that emptiness and forgetfulness of every temporal and perishable thing which it causes, the soul preserving itself entire for the supreme good which it hopes for; and by love, in the will. 2. These three virtuesrenderempty all the powers of the soul ; faith makes the understanding empty and blind ; hope takes everything away from the memory, and charity detaches the will from every pleasure and affection which are not God. Faith teaches us what the understanding cannot reach by the light of nature and of reason, being, as the Apostle saith, 'the substance of things to be hoped for.' • And though the understanding firmly and certainly assents to them, yet it cannot discover them; for if the understanding discovered them, there would be no room for faith. And though the understanding derives certainty from faith, yet it does not derive clearness but rather obscurity. As to hope, there is no doubt that it renders the memory empty, and brings darkness over it as to all surrounding objects, for hope is ever conversant with that which is not in possession, for if it were already possessed there would be no place for hope; because, as the Apostle saith, 'hope that is seen is not hope, for what a man seeth why doth he hope for?'t This virtue, then, makes empty

• Heb. xi i. fr Rom. viii. 24. $4 ±HE ASCfefcT [BOOK H. } also, for it is the virtue of that which is not in possession, and not of that which is. Charity, too, in the same way empties the will of all things, for it compels us to love God above all, we cannot do without withdrawing our affections from every object, to fix them wholly upon God. Christ our Lord hath said, ' Every one of you that doth not renounce all that he possesseth cannot be My disciple/ * Thus these virtues bring darkness over the soul, and empty it of all created things. 3. Consider that parable of our Lord recorded by S. Luke,t of the friend who went out at midnight asking for three loaves. These loaves are the three theological virtues. They were asked for at midnight, to teach us that the soul must dispose itself for perfection in these virtues in darkness as to all its powers, and that perfection is to be acquired in this night of the spirit. 4. The prophet Isaias saw in a vision two seraphim oil either side of God, each of them with six wings. With two of their wings they covered their feet. This signifies the quenching and subduing of the will in everything for the sake of God. With two of their wings they covered their faces; this signifies the blindness of the Understanding in the presence of God. With two of their wings they flew ; this signifies the flight of hope towards those things which we possess not ; lifted up on high above all possession short of God. 1 Upon it stood the seraphim : the one had six wings, and the other had six wings; with two each covered his face, and with two each covered his feet, and with two they flew.' J