DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL

by Saint John of the Cross

DOCTOR OF THE CHURCH

THIRD REVISED EDITION

Translated and edited, with an Introduction,

by E. ALLISON PEERS

from the critical edition of

P. SILVERIO DE SANTA TERESA, C.D.

TO THE DISCALCED CARMELITES OF CASTILE,

WITH ABIDING MEMORIES OF THEIR HOSPITALITY AND

KINDNESS IN MADRID, ÁVILA AND BURGOS, BUT ABOVE ALL

OF THEIR DEVOTION TO SAINT JOHN OF THE CROSS, I

DEDICATE THIS TRANSLATION

PREFACE TO THE ELECTRONIC EDITION

This electronic edition (v 0.9) was scanned in 1994 from an uncopyrighted

1959 Image Books third edition of the Dark Night. The entire text except

for the translator’s preface and some of the footnotes have been reproduced.

Nearly 400 footnotes (and parts of footnotes) describing variations among

manuscripts have been omitted. Page number references in the footnotes

have been changed to chapter and section where possible. This edition has

been proofread once, but additional errors may remain. The translator’s

preface to the first and second editions may be found with the electronic

edition of Ascent of Mount Carmel.

PRINCIPAL ABBREVIATIONS

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

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

C. W.S.T.J.—The Complete Works of Saint Teresa of Jesus, translated and

edited by E. Allison Peers from the critical edition of P. Silverio de Santa

Teresa, C.D. London, Sheed and Ward, 1946. 3 vols.

H. —E. Allison Peers: Handbook to the Life and Times of St. Teresa and St.

John of the Cross. London, Burns Oates and Washbourne, 1953.

LL.—The Letters of Saint Teresa of Jesus, translated and edited by E.

Allison Peers from the critical edition of P. Silverio de Santa Teresa, C.D.

London, Burns Oates and Washbourne, 1951. 2 vols.

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

Obras (P. Silv.)—Obras de San Juan de la Cruz, Doctor de la Iglesia,

editadas y anotadas por el P. Silverio de Santa Teresa, C.D. Burgos, 1929–

31. 5 vols.

S. S.M.—E. Allison Peers: Studies of the Spanish Mystics. Vol. I, London,

Sheldon Press, 1927; 2nd ed., London, S.P.C.K., 1951. Vol. II, London,

Sheldon Press, 1930.

Sobrino.—Jose Antonio de Sobrino, S.J.: Estudios sobre San Juan de la

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

DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL

INTRODUCTION

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

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

continuation of the Ascent of Mount Carmel and fulfils the undertakings

given in it: The first night or purgation is of the sensual part of the soul,

which is treated in the present stanza, and will be treated in the first part of

this book. And the second is of the spiritual part; of this speaks the second

stanza, which follows; and of this we shall treat likewise, in the second and

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

with respect to its passivity. [1]

This ‘fourth part’ is the Dark Night. Of it the Saint writes in a passage

which follows that just quoted: And the second night, or purification,

pertains to those who are already proficient, occurring at the time when God

desires to bring them to the state of union with God. And this latter night is

a more obscure and dark and terrible purgation, as we shall say afterwards.

[2]

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

Spirit; he now proposes to deal with the Passive Night, in the same order.

He has already taught us how we are to deny and purify ourselves with the

ordinary help of grace, in order to prepare our senses and faculties for union

with God through love. He now proceeds to explain, with an arresting

freshness, how these same senses and faculties are purged and purified by

God with a view to the same end—that of union. The combined description

of the two nights completes the presentation of active and passive

purgation, to which the Saint limits himself in these treatises, although the

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

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

the soul transformed in God through love.

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

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

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

development. The Active Night has left the senses and faculties well

prepared, though not completely prepared, for the reception of Divine

influences and illuminations in greater abundance than before. The Saint

here postulates a principle of dogmatic theology—that by himself, and with

the ordinary aid of grace, man cannot attain to that degree of purgation

which is essential to his transformation in God. He needs Divine aid more

abundantly. ‘However greatly the soul itself labours,’ writes the Saint, ‘it

cannot actively purify itself so as to be in the least degree prepared for the

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

not in that dark fire.’ [3]

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

based upon this incapacity. Souls ‘begin to enter’ this dark night

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

of those that meditate on the spiritual road—and begins to set them in the

state of progressives—which is that of those who are already

contemplatives—to the end that, after passing through it, they may arrive at

the state of the perfect, which is that of the Divine union of the soul with

God. [4]

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

touches, in passing, upon certain imperfections found in those who are

about to enter it and which it removes by the process of purgation. Such

travellers are still untried proficients, who have not yet acquired mature

habits of spirituality and who therefore still conduct themselves as children.

The imperfections are examined one by one, following the order of the

seven deadly sins, in chapters (ii-viii) which once more reveal the author’s

skill as a director of souls. They are easy chapters to understand, and of

great practical utility, comparable to those in the first book of the Ascent

which deal with the active purgation of the desires of sense.

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

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

soul of its imperfections and the preparation of it for fruitive union. The

Passive Night of Sense, we are told, is ‘common’ and ‘comes to many,’

whereas that of Spirit ‘is the portion of very few.’ [5] The one is ‘bitter and

terrible’ but ‘the second bears no comparison with it,’ for it is ‘horrible and

awful to the spirit.’ [6] A good deal of literature on the former Night existed

in the time of St. John of the Cross and he therefore promises to be brief in

his treatment of it. Of the latter, on the other hand, he will ‘treat more fully .

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

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

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

with great insight and discernment how it may be recognized whether any

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

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

indisposition or ‘humours’ of the body. The Saint is particularly effective

here, and we may once more compare this chapter with a similar one in the

Ascent (II, xiii)—that in which he fixes the point where the soul may

abandon discursive meditation and enter the contemplation which belongs

to loving and simple faith.

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

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

value of his observations, but because, even in spite of himself, he betrays

the sublimity of his own mystical experiences. Once more, too, we may

admire the crystalline transparency of his teaching and the precision of the

phrases in which he clothes it. To judge by his language alone, one might

suppose at times that he is speaking of mathematical, rather than of spiritual

operations.

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

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

Ascent, consists in ‘allowing the soul to remain in peace and quietness,’

content ‘with a peaceful and loving attentiveness toward God.’ [8] Before

long it will experience enkindlings of love (Chapter xi), which will serve to

purify its sins and imperfections and draw it gradually nearer to God; we

have here, as it were, so many stages of the ascent of the Mount on whose

summit the soul attains to transforming union. Chapters xii and xiii detail

with great exactness the benefits that the soul receives from this aridity,

while Chapter xiv briefly expounds the last line of the first stanza and

brings to an end what the Saint desires to say with respect to the first

Passive Night.

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

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

those which have preceded it. This, nevertheless, is the Dark Night par

excellence, of which the Saint speaks in these words: ‘The night which we

have called that of sense may and should be called a kind of correction and

restraint of the desire rather than purgation. The reason is that all the

imperfections and disorders of the sensual part have their strength and root

in the spirit, where all habits, both good and bad, are brought into

subjection, and thus, until these are purged, the rebellions and depravities of

sense cannot be purged thoroughly.’ [9]

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

after leaving the first; on the contrary, they generally pass a long time, even

years, before doing so, [10] for they still have many imperfections, both

habitual and actual (Chapter ii). After a brief introduction (Chapter iii), the

Saint describes with some fullness the nature of this spiritual purgation or

dark contemplation referred to in the first stanza of his poem and the

varieties of pain and affliction caused by it, whether in the soul or in its

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

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

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

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

touches those same heights of sublimity.

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

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

which it is preparing itself to receive with greater abundance. The following

chapter makes the comparison between spiritual purgation and the log of

wood which gradually becomes transformed through being immersed in fire

and at last takes on the fire’s own properties. The force with which the

familiar similitude is driven home impresses indelibly upon the mind the

fundamental concept of this most sublime of all purgations. Marvellous,

indeed, are its effects, from the first enkindlings and burnings of Divine

love, which are greater beyond comparison than those produced by the

Night of Sense, the one being as different from the other as is the body from

the soul. ‘For this (latter) is an enkindling of spiritual love in the soul,

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

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

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

Divine illumination which from time to time enfolds the soul in the

splendours of glory. When the effects of the light that wounds and yet

illumines are combined with those of the enkindlement that melts the soul

with its heat, the delights experienced are so great as to be ineffable.

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

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

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

describes the soul’s security in the Dark Night—due, among other reasons,

to its being freed ‘not only from itself, but likewise from its other enemies,

which are the world and the devil.’ [12]

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

Chapter xviii is compared to the ‘staircase’ of the poem. This comparison

suggests to the Saint an exposition (Chapters xviii, xix) of the ten steps or

degrees of love which comprise St. Bernard’s mystical ladder. Chapter xxi

describes the soul’s ‘disguise,’ from which the book passes on (Chapters

xxii, xxiii) to extol the ‘happy chance’ which led it to journey ‘in darkness

and concealment’ from its enemies, both without and within.

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

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

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

which is the subject that the Saint proposed to treat in his commentary on

the five remaining stanzas. As far as we know, this commentary was never

written. We have only the briefest outline of what was to have been covered

in the third, in which, following the same effective metaphor of night, the

Saint describes the excellent properties of the spiritual night of infused

contemplation, through which the soul journeys with no other guide or

support, either outward or inward, than the Divine love ‘which burned in

my heart.’

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

premature truncation of this eloquent treatise. [13] We have already given

our opinion [14] upon the commentaries thought to have been written on

the final stanzas of the ‘Dark Night.’ Did we possess them, they would

explain the birth of the light—‘dawn’s first breathings in the heav’ns

above’—which breaks through the black darkness of the Active and the

Passive Nights; they would tell us, too, of the soul’s further progress

towards the Sun’s full brightness. It is true, of course, that some part of this

great gap is filled by St. John of the Cross himself in his other treatises, but

it is small compensation for the incomplete state in which he left this edifice

of such gigantic proportions that he should have given us other and smaller

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

Canticle and the Living Flame of Love, they are not so completely knit into

one whole as is this great double treatise. They lose both in flexibility and

in substance through the closeness with which they follow the stanzas of

which they are the exposition. In the Ascent and the Dark Night, on the

other hand, we catch only the echoes of the poem, which are all but lost in

the resonance of the philosopher’s voice and the eloquent tones of the

preacher. Nor have the other treatises the learning and the authority of

these. Nowhere else does the genius of St. John of the Cross for infusing

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

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

human even in his loftiest and sublimest passages, this intermingling of

philosophy with mystical theology makes him seem particularly so. These

treatises are a wonderful illustration of the theological truth that grace, far

from destroying nature, ennobles and dignifies it, and of the agreement

always found between the natural and the supernatural—between the

principles of sound reason and the sublimest manifestations of Divine

grace.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[7] Ibid.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MANUSCRIPTS OF THE DARK NIGHT

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

is unknown to us: the second seems to have disappeared in the same period

as the first. There are extant, however, as many as twelve early copies of the

Dark Night, some of which, though none of them is as palaeographically

accurate as the best copy of the Ascent, are very reliable; there is no trace in

them of conscious adulteration of the original or of any kind of

modification to fit the sense of any passage into a preconceived theory. We

definitely prefer one of these copies to the others but we nowhere follow it

so literally as to incorporate in our text its evident discrepancies from its

original.

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

MS.

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

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

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

been presented to the Archives of the Reform by the Fathers of Los

Remedios, Seville—a Carmelite house founded by P. Grecián in 1574. It

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

it.

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

of Book II, Chapters xix and xxiii, dealing with the Passive Night of the

Spirit. It has many copyist’s errors. At the same time, its antiquity and

origin, and the good faith of which it shows continual signs, give it, in our

view, primacy over the other copies now to come under consideration. It

must be made clear, nevertheless, that there is no extant copy of the Dark

Night as trustworthy and as skilfully made as the Alcaudete MS. of the

Ascent.

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

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

have been corrected. It bears no title, but has a long sub-title which is in

effect a partial summary of the argument.

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

one of St. Teresa’s foundations, is very rich in Teresan autographs, and has

also a number of important documents relating to St. John of the Cross,

together with some copies of his works. That here described is written in a

large, clear hand and probably dates from the end of the sixteenth century. It

has a title similar to that of the last-named copy. With few exceptions it

follows the other most important MSS.

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

Ascent (Image Books edition, pp. 6–7) applies also to the Dark Night. It is

complete, save for small omissions on the part of the amanuensis, the

‘Argument’ at the beginning of the poem, the verses themselves and a few

lines from Book II, Chapter vii.

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

‘Argument’ and the poem itself but not the lines from Book II, Chapter vii.

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

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

Colloquies between Christ and the soul His Bride. It is written in various

hands, all very early and some feminine. A note by P. Andrés de la

Encarnación, on the reverse of the first folio, records that the copy was

presented to the Archives of the Reform by the Discalced Carmelite nuns of

Baeza. This convent was founded in 1589, two years before the Saint’s

death, and the copy may well date from about this period. On the second

folio comes the poem ‘I entered in—I knew not where.’ On the reverse of

the third folio begins a kind of preface to the Dark Night, opening with the

words: ‘Begin the stanzas by means of which a soul may occupy itself and

become fervent in the love of God. It deals with the Dark Night and is

divided into two books. The first treats of the purgation of sense, and the

second of the spiritual purgation of man. It was written by P. Fr. Juan de la

Cruz, Discalced Carmelite.’ On the next folio, a so-called ‘Preface: To the

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

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

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

detached and disencumbered must be those that are to enter thereby.’ This

fundamental idea is developed for the space of two folios. There follows a

sonnet on the Dark Night, [15] and immediately afterwards comes the text

of the treatise.

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

chapter. There is no trace in it of any attempt to modify its original; indeed,

the very nature and number of the copyist’s errors are a testimony to his

good faith.

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

no more detailed recollection of its provenance. ‘The Dark Night,’ it adds,

‘begins on folio 43; our holy father is described simply as “the second friar

of the new Reformation,” [16] which is clear evidence of its antiquity.’

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

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

century; it is certainly earlier than the editions. There is no serious omission

except that of six lines of the ‘Argument.’ The authors of the other works

copied include St. Augustine, B. Juan de Ávila, P. Baltasar Álvarez and P.

Tomás de Jesús.

The copies which remain to be described are all mutilated or abbreviated

and can be disposed of briefly: MS. 13,498. This copy omits less of the

Dark Night than of the Ascent but few pages are without their omissions. In

one place a meticulous pair of scissors has removed the lower half of a folio

on which the Saint deals with spiritual luxury.

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

century and has numerous omissions, especially in the chapters on the

Passive Night of the Spirit. The date is given (in the same hand as that

which copies the title) as 1618. This MS. also contains an opuscule by Suso

and another entitled ‘Brief compendium of the most eminent Christian

perfection of P. Fr. Juan de la Cruz.’

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

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

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

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

St. John of the Cross’s works it copies the Spiritual Canticle as well as the

Dark Night; the latter is headed: ’song of one soul alone.’ It also contains a

number of poems, some of them by the Saint, and many passages from St.

Teresa. It is in several hands, all of the seventeenth century. The copy of the

Dark Night is most unsatisfactory; there are omissions and abbreviations

everywhere.

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

abbreviates continually, especially in the chapters on the Passive Night of

Sense, which are reduced to a mere skeleton.

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

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

[18] are relatively few and unimportant. Modifications of phraseology are

more frequent and alterations are also made with the aim of correcting

hyperbaton. In the first book about thirty lines are suppressed; in the

second, about ninety. All changes which are of any importance have been

shown in the notes.

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

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

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

(Image Books edition, pp. lxiii–lxvi) of certain apparent anomalies and a

certain lack of uniformity in the Saint’s method of dividing his

commentaries. This is nowhere more noticeable than in the Dark Night.

Instead of dividing his treatise into books, each with its proper title, the

Saint abandons this method and uses titles only occasionally. As this makes

comprehension of his argument the more difficult, we have adopted the

divisions which were introduced by P. Salablanca and have been copied by

successive editors.

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

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

its movement. We do not agree. In any case, we greatly prefer the gain of

clarity, even if the rhythm occasionally halts, to the other alternative—the

constant halting of the understanding. We have, of course, indicated every

place where the title is taken from the editio princeps and was not the work

of the author.

The following abbreviations are adopted in the footnotes: A = MS. of the

Discalced Carmelite Friars of Alba.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mtr. = MS. 12,658.

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

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

E. p. = Editio princeps (1618).

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

cited without abbreviations.

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

in Ascent, Bk. I, chap. xiii, and is of no great literary merit. P. Silverio

reproduces it in Spanish on p. 302 (note) of his first volume.

[16] The ‘first friar’ would be P. Antonio de Jesús, who was senior to St.

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

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

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

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

modifications.

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

DARK NIGHT

Exposition of the stanzas describing the method followed by the soul in its

journey upon the spiritual road to the attainment of the perfect union of love

with God, to the extent that is possible in this life. Likewise are described

the properties belonging to the soul that has attained to the said perfection,

according as they are contained in the same stanzas.

PROLOGUE

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

afterwards, each of the stanzas is expounded separately, being set down

before its exposition; and then each line is expounded separately and in

turn, the line itself also being set down before the exposition. In the first

two stanzas are expounded the effects of the two spiritual purgations: of the

sensual part of man and of the spiritual part. In the other six are expounded

various and wondrous effects of the spiritual illumination and union of love

with God.

STANZAS OF THE SOUL

1. On a dark night, Kindled in love with yearnings—oh, happy chance!— I

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

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

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

3. In the happy night, In secret, when none saw me, Nor I beheld aught,

Without light or guide, save that which burned in my heart.

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

where he (well I knew who!) was awaiting me— A place where none

appeared.

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

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

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

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

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

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

8. I remained, lost in oblivion; My face I reclined on the Beloved. All

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

lilies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

way of eternal life whereof Our Saviour speaks in the Gospel, along which

way the soul ordinarily passes in order to reach this high and happy union

with God. Since this road (as the Lord Himself says likewise) is so strait,

and since there are so few that enter by it, [19] the soul considers it a great

happiness and good chance to have passed along it to the said perfection of

love, as it sings in this first stanza, calling this strait road with full propriety

‘dark night,’ as will be explained hereafter in the lines of the said stanza.

The soul, then, rejoicing at having passed along this narrow road whence so

many blessings have come to it, speaks after this manner.

[19] St. Matthew vii, 14.

Contents
BOOK THE FIRST
1 CHAPTER I
2 CHAPTER II
3 CHAPTER III
4 CHAPTER IV
5 CHAPTER V
6 CHAPTER VI
7 CHAPTER VII
8 CHAPTER VIII
9 CHAPTER IX
10 CHAPTER X
11 CHAPTER XI
12 CHAPTER XII
13 CHAPTER XIII
14 CHAPTER XIV

BOOK THE FIRST

Which treats of the Night of Sense.

STANZA THE FIRST

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

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

EXPOSITION

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

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

to them all and to itself, by means of true mortification, in order to attain to

living the sweet and delectable life of love with God; and it says that this

going forth from itself and from all things was a ‘dark night,’ by which, as

will be explained hereafter, is here understood purgative contemplation,

which causes passively in the soul the negation of itself and of all things

referred to above.

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

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

the dark contemplation aforementioned. Herein it extols the great happiness

which it found in journeying to God through this night with such signal

success that none of the three enemies, which are world, devil and flesh

(who are they that ever impede this road), could hinder it; inasmuch as the

aforementioned night of purgative [20] contemplation lulled to sleep and

mortified, in the house of its sensuality, all the passions and desires with

respect to their mischievous desires and motions. The line, then, says: On a

dark night

CHAPTER I

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

beginners.

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

the state of beginners—which is the state of those that meditate on the

spiritual road—and begins to set them in the state of progressives—which is

that of those who are already contemplatives—to the end that, after passing

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

Divine union of the soul with God. Wherefore, to the end that we may the

better understand and explain what night is this through which the soul

passes, and for what cause God sets it therein, it will be well here to touch

first of all upon certain characteristics of beginners (which, although we

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

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

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

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

in the virtues, and made ready for the inestimable delights of the love of

God. And, although we may tarry here for a time, it will not be for longer

than is necessary, so that we may go on to speak at once of this dark night.

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

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

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

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

and pleasant food, and carries it and caresses it in her arms; but, as the child

grows bigger, the mother gradually ceases caressing it, and, hiding her

tender love, puts bitter aloes upon her sweet breast, sets down the child

from her arms and makes it walk upon its feet, so that it may lose the habits

of a child and betake itself to more important and substantial occupations.

The loving mother is like the grace of God, for, as soon as the soul is

regenerated by its new warmth and fervour for the service of God, He treats

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

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

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

tender love, even as to a tender child.

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

perchance whole nights—in prayer; penances are its pleasures; fasts its

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

itself in Divine things. In the which things spiritual persons though taking

part in them with great efficacy and persistence and using and treating them

with great care) often find themselves, spiritually speaking, very weak and

imperfect. For since they are moved to these things and to these spiritual

exercises by the consolation and pleasure that they find in them, and since,

too, they have not been prepared for them by the practice of earnest striving

in the virtues, they have many faults and imperfections with respect to these

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

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

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

work like feebler children, feebly. In order that this may be seen more

clearly, and likewise how much these beginners in the virtues lacks with

respect to the works in which they so readily engage with the pleasure

aforementioned, we shall describe it by reference to the seven capital sins,

each in its turn, indicating some of the many imperfections which they have

under each heading; wherein it will be clearly seen how like to children are

these persons in all they do. And it will also be seen how many blessings

the dark night of which we shall afterwards treat brings with it, since it

cleanses the soul and purifies it from all these imperfections.

CHAPTER II

Of certain spiritual imperfections which beginners have with respect to the

habit of pride.

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

spiritual things and devout exercises, from this prosperity (although it is

true that holy things of their own nature cause humility) there often comes

to them, through their imperfections, a certain kind of secret pride, whence

they come to have some degree of satisfaction with their works and with

themselves. And hence there comes to them likewise a certain desire, which

is somewhat vain, and at times very vain, to speak of spiritual things in the

presence of others, and sometimes even to teach such things rather than to

learn them. They condemn others in their heart when they see that they

have not the kind of devotion which they themselves desire; and sometimes

they even say this in words, herein resembling the Pharisee, who boasted of

himself, praising God for his own good works and despising the publican.

[21]

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

the desire to perform these and other works more frequently, so that their

pride and presumption may grow greater. For the devil knows quite well

that all these works and virtues which they perform are not only valueless to

them, but even become vices in them. And such a degree of evil are some of

these persons wont to reach that they would have none appear good save

themselves; and thus, in deed and word, whenever the opportunity occurs,

they condemn them and slander them, beholding the mote in their brother’s

eye and not considering the beam which is in their own; [22] they strain at

another’s gnat and themselves swallow a camel. [23]

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

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

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

not understand them, or that, because they do not approve of this and

comply with that, their confessors are themselves not spiritual. And so they

immediately desire and contrive to find some one else who will fit in with

their tastes; for as a rule they desire to speak of spiritual matters with those

who they think will praise and esteem what they do, and they flee, as they

would from death, from those who disabuse them in order to lead them into

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

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

Sometimes they are anxious that others shall realize how spiritual and

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

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

to fall into certain ecstasies, in public rather than in secret, wherein the devil

aids them, and they are pleased that this should be noticed, and are often

eager that it should be noticed more. [25]

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

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

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

confess their sins nakedly, lest their confessors should think less of them, so

they palliate them and make them appear less evil, and thus it is to excuse

themselves rather than to accuse themselves that they go to confession. And

sometimes they seek another confessor to tell the wrongs that they have

done, so that their own confessor shall think they have done nothing wrong

at all, but only good; and thus they always take pleasure in telling him what

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

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

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

desire that neither he nor anyone else should consider them of account.

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

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

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

impatient with themselves, which is another imperfection. Often they

beseech God, with great yearnings, that He will take from them their

imperfections and faults, but they do this that they may find themselves at

peace, and may not be troubled by them, rather than for God’s sake; not

realizing that, if He should take their imperfections from them, they would

probably become prouder and more presumptuous still. They dislike

praising others and love to be praised themselves; sometimes they seek out

such praise. Herein they are like the foolish virgins, who, when their lamps

could not be lit, sought oil from others. [27]

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

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

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

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

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

time are going on to perfection proceed very differently and with quite

another temper of spirit; for they progress by means of humility and are

greatly edified, not only thinking naught of their own affairs, but having

very little satisfaction with themselves; they consider all others as far better,

and usually have a holy envy of them, and an eagerness to serve God as

they do. For the greater is their fervour, and the more numerous are the

works that they perform, and the greater is the pleasure that they take in

them, as they progress in humility, the more do they realize how much God

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

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

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

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

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

it, they always believe, as I say, that all others are far better than they

themselves. Wherefore, holding themselves as of little worth, they are

anxious that others too should thus hold them, and should despise and

depreciate that which they do. And further, if men should praise and esteem

them, they can in no wise believe what they say; it seems to them strange

that anyone should say these good things of them.

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

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

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

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

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

on the other hand, being far from desiring to be the masters of any, are very

ready to travel and set out on another road than that which they are actually

following, if they be so commanded, because they never think that they are

right in anything whatsoever. They rejoice when others are praised; they

grieve only because they serve not God like them. They have no desire to

speak of the things that they do, because they think so little of them that

they are ashamed to speak of them even to their spiritual masters, since they

seem to them to be things that merit not being spoken of. They are more

anxious to speak of their faults and sins, or that these should be recognized

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

those who account their actions and their spirituality of little value. This is a

characteristic of the spirit which is simple, pure, genuine and very pleasing

to God. For as the wise Spirit of God dwells in these humble souls, He

moves them and inclines them to keep His treasures secretly within and

likewise to cast out from themselves all evil. God gives this grace to the

humble, together with the other virtues, even as He denies it to the proud.

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

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

into which they see themselves fall they bear with humility, meekness of

spirit and a loving fear of God, hoping in Him. But souls who in the

beginning journey with this kind of perfection are, as I understand, and as

has been said, a minority, and very few are those who we can be glad do not

fall into the opposite errors. For this reason, as we shall afterwards say, God

leads into the dark night those whom He desires to purify from all these

imperfections so that He may bring them farther onward.

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

[22] St. Matthew vii, 3.

[23] St. Matthew xxiii, 24.

[24] [Lit., ‘Presuming.’]

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

[26] [Lit., ‘a thousand envies and disquietudes.’]

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

from without.’

[28] [Lit., ‘to have.’]

[29] [Lit., ‘these fervours.’]

[30] [Lit., ‘into something of this.’]

CHAPTER III

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

respect to the second capital sin, which is avarice, in the spiritual sense.

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

will be found to be discontented with the spirituality which God gives them;

and they are very disconsolate and querulous because they find not in

spiritual things the consolation that they would desire. Many can never have

enough of listening to counsels and learning spiritual precepts, and of

possessing and reading many books which treat of this matter, and they

spend their time on all these things rather than on works of mortification

and the perfecting of the inward poverty of spirit which should be theirs.

Furthermore, they burden themselves with images and rosaries which are

very curious; now they put down one, now take up another; now they

change about, now change back again; now they want this kind of thing,

now that, preferring one kind of cross to another, because it is more curious.

And others you will see adorned with agnusdeis [31] and relics and tokens,

[32] like children with trinkets. Here I condemn the attachment of the heart,

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

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

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

for that end and grows weary of this other kind of multiplicity and curiosity.

For true devotion must issue from the heart, and consist in the truth and

substances alone of what is represented by spiritual things; all the rest is

affection and attachment proceeding from imperfection; and in order that

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

killed.

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

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

twisted round it; he had never ceased using it, and he always carried it about

with him until I took it from him; and this was a person of no small sense

and understanding. And I saw another who said his prayers using beads that

were made of bones from the spine of a fish; his devotion was certainly no

less precious on that account in the sight of God, for it is clear that these

things carried no devotion in their workmanship or value. Those, then, who

start from these beginnings and make good progress attach themselves to no

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

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

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

consists their covetousness. And thus with great generosity they give away

all that they have, and delight to know that they have it not, for God’s sake

and for charity to their neighbour, no matter whether these be spiritual

things or temporal. For, as I say, they set their eyes only upon the reality of

interior perfection, which is to give pleasure to God and in naught to give

pleasure to themselves.

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

be perfectly purified until God brings it into the passive purgation of that

dark night whereof we shall speak presently. It befits the soul, however, to

contrive to labour, in so far as it can, on its own account, to the end that it

may purge and perfect itself, and thus may merit being taken by God into

that Divine care wherein it becomes healed of all things that it was unable

of itself to cure. Because, however greatly the soul itself labours, it cannot

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

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

that dark fire, in the way and manner that we have to describe.

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

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

medals were greatly sought after, as we know from various references in St.

Teresa’s letters.

[32] [The word nómina, translated ‘token,’ and normally meaning list, or

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

Spanish it can denote a medal or amulet used superstitiously.

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

Palm Sunday, like the English palm crosses of to-day. ‘Palm Sunday’ is in

Spanish Domingo de ramos: ‘Branch Sunday.’

CHAPTER IV

Of other imperfections which these beginners are apt to have with respect to

the third sin, which is luxury.

MANY of these beginners have many other imperfections than those which

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

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

which are, as it were, the origin and cause of the rest. And thus, with respect

to this sin of luxury (leaving apart the falling of spiritual persons into this

sin, since my intent is to treat of the imperfections which have to be purged

by the dark night), they have many imperfections which might be described

as spiritual luxury, not because they are so, but because the imperfections

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

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

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

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

engaged in the Sacrament of Penance or in the Eucharist. These things are

not, as I say, in their power; they proceed from one of three causes.

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

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

pleased, every part of a man is moved by that pleasure [34] to delight

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

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

nature, which is the lower part, is moved to pleasure and delight of the

senses, because it cannot possess and lay hold upon aught else, and it

therefore lays hold upon that which comes nearest to itself, which is the

impure and sensual. Thus it comes to pass that the soul is in deep prayer

with God according to the spirit, and, on the other hand, according to sense

it is passively conscious, not without great displeasure, of rebellions and

motions and acts of the senses, which often happens in Communion, for

when the soul receives joy and comfort in this act of love, because this Lord

bestows it (since it is to that end that He gives Himself), the sensual nature

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

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

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

for, as the philosopher says, everything that is received is in the recipient

after the manner of the same recipient. And thus, in these beginnings, and

even when the soul has made some progress, its sensual part, being

imperfect, oftentimes receives the Spirit of God with the same imperfection.

Now when this sensual part is renewed by the purgation of the dark night

which we shall describe, it no longer has these weaknesses; for it is no

longer this part that receives aught, but rather it is itself received into the

Spirit. And thus it then has everything after the manner of the Spirit.

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

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

prayer or is striving to pray, contrives to stir up these motions of impurity in

its nature; and if the soul gives heed to any of these, they cause it great

harm. For through fear of these not only do persons become lax in prayer—

which is the aim of the devil when he begins to strive with them—but some

give up prayer altogether, because they think that these things attack them

more during that exercise than apart from it, which is true, since the devil

attacks them then more than at other times, so that they may give up

spiritual exercises. And not only so, but he succeeds in portraying to them

very vividly things that are most foul and impure, and at times are very

closely related to certain spiritual things and persons that are of profit to

their souls, in order to terrify them and make them fearful; so that those

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

anything, because they immediately encounter this temptation. And upon

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

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

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

that they believe it to be clear that the devil is ever present with them and

that they have no power to prevent this, although some of these persons can

prevent his attack by dint of great effort and labour. When these impurities

attack such souls through the medium of melancholy, they are not as a rule

freed from them until they have been cured of that kind of humour, unless

the dark night has entered the soul, and rids them of all impurities, one after

another. [36]

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

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

conceived for these impure representations and motions. Something that

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

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

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

there comes to them some spiritual consolation or some grace in prayer, the

spirit of luxury is with them immediately, inebriating and delighting their

sensual nature in such manner that it is as if they were plunged into the

enjoyment and pleasure of this sin; and the enjoyment remains, together

with the consolation, passively, and sometimes they are able to see that

certain impure and unruly acts have taken place. The reason for this is that,

since these natures are, as I say, frail and tender, their humours are stirred

up and their blood is excited at the least disturbance. And hence come these

motions; and the same thing happens to such souls when they are enkindled

with anger or suffer any disturbance or grief. [37]

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

they be speaking or performing spiritual actions, a certain vigour and

bravado, through their having regard to persons who are present, and before

these persons they display a certain kind of vain gratification. This also

arises from luxury of spirit, after the manner wherein we here understand it,

which is accompanied as a rule by complacency in the will.

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

which oftentimes arise from luxury and not from spirituality; this may be

known to be the case when the remembrance of that friendship causes not

the remembrance and love of God to grow, but occasions remorse of

conscience. For, when the friendship is purely spiritual, the love of God

grows with it; and the more the soul remembers it, the more it remembers

the love of God, and the greater the desire it has for God; so that, as the one

grows, the other grows also. For the spirit of God has this property, that it

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

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

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

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

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

soul’s love of God is becoming colder, and that it is forgetting Him as it

remembers that love; there comes to it, too, a certain remorse of conscience.

And, on the other hand, if the love of God grows in the soul, that other love

becomes cold and is forgotten; for, as the two are contrary to one another,

not only does the one not aid the other, but the one which predominates

quenches and confounds the other, and becomes strengthened in itself, as

the philosophers say. Wherefore Our Saviour said in the Gospel: ‘That

which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is

spirit.’ [38] That is to say, the love which is born of sensuality ends in

sensuality, and that which is of the spirit ends in the spirit of God and

causes it to grow. This is the difference that exists between these two kinds

of love, whereby we may know them.

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

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

to God; and the other it removes and brings to an end; and in the beginning

it causes both to be lost sight of, as we shall say hereafter.

[34] [Lit., ‘recreation.’]

[35] [Lit., ‘recreation.’]

[36] [Lit., ‘of everything.’]

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

learned explanations of it, though in reality there is little that needs to be

added to the Saint’s clear and apt exposition. It will be remembered that St.

Teresa once wrote to her brother Lorenzo, who suffered in this way: ‘As to

those stirrings of sense. . . . I am quite clear they are of no account, so the

best thing is to make no account of them’ (LL. 168). The most effective

means of calming souls tormented by these favours is to commend them to

a discreet and wise director whose counsel they may safely follow. The

Illuminists committed the grossest errors in dealing with this matter.

[38] St. John iii, 6.

CHAPTER V

Of the imperfections into which beginners fall with respect to the sin of

wrath.

BY reason of the concupiscence which many beginners have for spiritual

consolations, their experience of these consolations is very commonly

accompanied by many imperfections proceeding from the sin of wrath; for,

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

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

have to suffer with a bad grace, which affects all that they do; and they very

easily become irritated over the smallest matter—sometimes, indeed, none

can tolerate them. This frequently happens after they have been very

pleasantly recollected in prayer according to sense; when their pleasure and

delight therein come to an end, their nature is naturally vexed and

disappointed, just as is the child when they take it from the breast of which

it was enjoying the sweetness. There is no sin in this natural vexation, when

it is not permitted to indulge itself, but only imperfection, which must be

purged by the aridity and severity of the dark night.

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

kind of spiritual wrath: this happens when they become irritated at the sins

of others, and keep watch on those others with a sort of uneasy zeal. At

times the impulse comes to them to reprove them angrily, and occasionally

they go so far as to indulge it [39] and set themselves up as masters of

virtue. All this is contrary to spiritual meekness.

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

own imperfectness, and display an impatience that is not humility; so

impatient are they about this that they would fain be saints in a day. Many

of these persons purpose to accomplish a great deal and make grand

resolutions; yet, as they are not humble and have no misgivings about

themselves, the more resolutions they make, the greater is their fall and the

greater their annoyance, since they have not the patience to wait for that

which God will give them when it pleases Him; this likewise is contrary to

the spiritual meekness aforementioned, which cannot be wholly remedied

save by the purgation of the dark night. Some souls, on the other hand, are

so patient as regards the progress which they desire that God would gladly

see them less so.

[39] [Lit. ‘they even do it.’]

CHAPTER VI

Of imperfections with respect to spiritual gluttony.

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

be said, for there is scarce one of these beginners who, however satisfactory

his progress, falls not into some of the many imperfections which come to

these beginners with respect to this sin, on account of the sweetness which

they find at first in spiritual exercises. For many of these, lured by the

sweetness and pleasure which they find in such exercises, strive more after

spiritual sweetness than after spiritual purity and discretion, which is that

which God regards and accepts throughout the spiritual journey. [40]

Therefore, besides the imperfections into which the seeking for sweetness

of this kind makes them fall, the gluttony which they now have makes them

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

moderation within which the virtues are acquired and wherein they have

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

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

with fasts, by performing more than their frailty can bear, without the order

or advice of any, but rather endeavouring to avoid those whom they should

obey in these matters; some, indeed, dare to do these things even though the

contrary has been commanded them.

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

penance before subjection and obedience, which is penance according to

reason and discretion, and therefore a sacrifice more acceptable and

pleasing to God than any other. But such one-sided penance is no more than

the penance of beasts, to which they are attracted, exactly like beasts, by the

desire and pleasure which they find therein. Inasmuch as all extremes are

vicious, and as in behaving thus such persons [41] are working their own

will, they grow in vice rather than in virtue; for, to say the least, they are

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

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

them through the pleasures and desires which he increases within them, to

such an extent that, since they can no longer help themselves, they either

change or vary or add to that which is commanded them, as any obedience

in this respect is so bitter to them. To such an evil pass have some persons

come that, simply because it is through obedience that they engage in these

exercises, they lose the desire and devotion to perform them, their only

desire and pleasure being to do what they themselves are inclined to do, so

that it would probably be more profitable for them not to engage in these

exercises at all.

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

spiritual masters to be granted that which they desire, extracting it from

them almost by force; if they be refused it they become as peevish as

children and go about in great displeasure, thinking that they are not serving

God when they are not allowed to do that which they would. For they go

about clinging to their own will and pleasure, which they treat as though it

came from God; [42] and immediately their directors [43] take it from

them, and try to subject them to the will of God, they become peevish, grow

faint-hearted and fall away. These persons think that their own satisfaction

and pleasure are the satisfaction and service of God.

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

their own unworthiness and misery and have thrust so far from them the

loving fear and reverence which they owe to the greatness of God, that they

hesitate not to insist continually that their confessors shall allow them to

communicate often. And, what is worse, they frequently dare to

communicate without the leave and consent [44] of the minister and

steward of Christ, merely acting on their own opinion, and contriving to

conceal the truth from him. And for this reason, because they desire to

communicate continually, they make their confessions carelessly, [45] being

more eager to eat than to eat cleanly and perfectly, although it would be

healthier and holier for them had they the contrary inclination and begged

their confessors not to command them to approach the altar so frequently:

between these two extremes, however, the better way is that of humble

resignation. But the boldness referred to is [46] a thing that does great harm,

and men may fear to be punished for such temerity.

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

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

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

devote themselves to this that, when they have received no pleasure or

sweetness in the senses, they think that they have accomplished nothing at

all. This is to judge God very unworthily; they have not realized that the

least of the benefits which come from this Most Holy Sacrament is that

which concerns the senses; and that the invisible part of the grace that it

bestows is much greater; for, in order that they may look at it with the eyes

of faith, God oftentimes withholds from them these other consolations and

sweetnesses of sense. And thus they desire to feel and taste God as though

He were comprehensible by them and accessible to them, not only in this,

but likewise in other spiritual practices. All this is very great imperfection

and completely opposed to the nature of God, since it is Impurity in faith.

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

they think that all the business of prayer consists in experiencing sensible

pleasure and devotion and they strive to obtain this by great effort, [47]

wearying and fatiguing their faculties and their heads; and when they have

not found this pleasure they become greatly discouraged, thinking that they

have accomplished nothing. Through these efforts they lose true devotion

and spirituality, which consist in perseverance, together with patience and

humility and mistrust of themselves, that they may please God alone. For

this reason, when they have once failed to find pleasure in this or some

other exercise, they have great disinclination and repugnance to return to it,

and at times they abandon it. They are, in fact, as we have said, like

children, who are not influenced by reason, and who act, not from rational

motives, but from inclination. [48] Such persons expend all their effort in

seeking spiritual pleasure and consolation; they never tire therefore, of

reading books; and they begin, now one meditation, now another, in their

pursuit of this pleasure which they desire to experience in the things of

God. But God, very justly, wisely and lovingly, denies it to them, for

otherwise this spiritual gluttony and inordinate appetite would breed in

numerable evils. It is, therefore, very fitting that they should enter into the

dark night, whereof we shall speak, [49] that they may be purged from this

childishness.

7. These persons who are thus inclined to such pleasures have another very

great imperfection, which is that they are very weak and remiss in

journeying upon the hard [50] road of the Cross; for the soul that is given to

sweetness naturally has its face set against all self-denial, which is devoid

of sweetness. [51]

8. These persons have many other imperfections which arise hence, of

which in time the Lord heals them by means of temptations, aridities and

other trials, all of which are part of the dark night. All these I will not treat

further here, lest I become too lengthy; I will only say that spiritual

temperance and sobriety lead to another and a very different temper, which

is that of mortification, fear and submission in all things. It thus becomes

clear that the perfection and worth of things consist not in the multitude and

the pleasantness of one’s actions, but in being able to deny oneself in them;

this such persons must endeavour to compass, in so far as they may, until

God is pleased to purify them indeed, by bringing them [52] into the dark

night, to arrive at which I am hastening on with my account of these

imperfections.

[40] [Lit., ‘spiritual road.’]

[41] [Lit., ‘these persons.’]

[42] [Lit., ‘and treat this as their God.’]

[43] [The Spanish is impersonal: ‘immediately this is taken from them,’ etc.

[44] [Lit., ‘and opinion.’]

[45] [Lit., ‘anyhow.’]

[46] [Lit, ‘the other boldnesses are.’]

[47] [Lit., ‘they strive to obtain this, as they say, by the strength of their

arms.’ The phrase is, of course, understood in the Spanish to be

metaphorical, as the words ‘as they say’ clearly indicate.

[48] [Lit., ‘who are not influenced, neither act by reason, but from

pleasure.’

[49] [Lit., ‘which we shall give.’]

[50] [áspero: harsh, rough, rugged.]

[51] [Lit., ‘against all the sweetlessness of self- denial.’]

[52] [Lit., ‘causing them to enter.’]

CHAPTER VII

Of imperfections with respect to spiritual envy and sloth.

WITH respect likewise to the other two vices, which are spiritual envy and

sloth, these beginners fail not to have many imperfections. For, with respect

to envy, many of them are wont to experience movements of displeasure at

the spiritual good of others, which cause them a certain sensible grief at

being outstripped upon this road, so that they would prefer not to hear

others praised; for they become displeased at others’ virtues and sometimes

they cannot refrain from contradicting what is said in praise of them,

depreciating it as far as they can; and their annoyance thereat grows [53]

because the same is not said of them, for they would fain be preferred in

everything. All this is clean contrary to charity, which, as Saint Paul says,

rejoices in goodness. [54] And, if charity has any envy, it is a holy envy,

comprising grief at not having the virtues of others, yet also joy because

others have them, and delight when others outstrip us in the service of God,

wherein we ourselves are so remiss.

2. With respect also to spiritual sloth, beginners are apt to be irked by the

things that are most spiritual, from which they flee because these things are

incompatible with sensible pleasure. For, as they are so much accustomed to

sweetness in spiritual things, they are wearied by things in which they find

no sweetness. If once they failed to find in prayer the satisfaction which

their taste required (and after all it is well that God should take it from them

to prove them), they would prefer not to return to it: sometimes they leave

it; at other times they continue it unwillingly. And thus because of this sloth

they abandon the way of perfection (which is the way of the negation of

their will and pleasure for God’s sake) for the pleasure and sweetness of

their own will, which they aim at satisfying in this way rather than the will

of God.

3. And many of these would have God will that which they themselves will,

and are fretful at having to will that which He wills, and find it repugnant to

accommodate their will to that of God. Hence it happens to them that

oftentimes they think that that wherein they find not their own will and

pleasure is not the will of God; and that, on the other hand, when they

themselves find satisfaction, God is satisfied. Thus they measure God by

themselves and not themselves by God, acting quite contrarily to that which

He Himself taught in the Gospel, saying: That he who should lose his will

for His sake, the same should gain it; and he who should desire to gain it,

the same should lose it. [55]

4. These persons likewise find it irksome when they are commanded to do

that wherein they take no pleasure. Because they aim at spiritual sweetness

and consolation, they are too weak to have the fortitude and bear the trials

of perfection. [56] They resemble those who are softly nurtured and who

run fretfully away from everything that is hard, and take offense at the

Cross, wherein consist the delights of the spirit. The more spiritual a thing

is, the more irksome they find it, for, as they seek to go about spiritual

matters with complete freedom and according to the inclination of their

will, it causes them great sorrow and repugnance to enter upon the narrow

way, which, says Christ, is the way of life. [57]

5. Let it suffice here to have described these imperfections, among the many

to be found in the lives of those that are in this first state of beginners, so

that it may be seen how greatly they need God to set them in the state of

proficients. This He does by bringing them into the dark night whereof we

now speak; wherein He weans them from the breasts of these sweetnesses

and pleasures, gives them pure aridities and inward darkness, takes from

them all these irrelevances and puerilities, and by very different means

causes them to win the virtues. For, however assiduously the beginner

practises the mortification in himself of all these actions and passions of his,

he can never completely succeed—very far from it—until God shall work it

in him passively by means of the purgation of the said night. Of this I would

fain speak in some way that may be profitable; may God, then, be pleased

to give me His Divine light, because this is very needful in a night that is so

dark and a matter that is so difficult to describe and to expound.

The line, then, is: In a dark night.

[53] [Lit., ‘and, as they say, their eye (el ojo) grows’—a colloquial phrase

expressing annoyance.

[54] 1 Corinthians xiii, 6. The Saint here cites the sense, not the letter, of the

epistle.

[55] St. Matthew xvi, 25.

[56] [Lit., ‘they are very weak for the fortitude and trial of perfection.’

[57] St. Matthew vii, 14.

CHAPTER VIII

Wherein is expounded the first line of the first stanza, and a beginning is

made of the explanation of this dark night.

THIS night, which, as we say, is contemplation, produces in spiritual

persons two kinds of darkness or purgation, corresponding to the two parts

of man’s nature—namely, the sensual and the spiritual. And thus the one

night or purgation will be sensual, wherein the soul is purged according to

sense, which is subdued to the spirit; and the other is a night or purgation

which is spiritual, wherein the soul is purged and stripped according to the

spirit, and subdued and made ready for the union of love with God. The

night of sense is common and comes to many: these are the beginners; and

of this night we shall speak first. The night of the spirit is the portion of

very few, and these are they that are already practised and proficient, of

whom we shall treat hereafter.

2. The first purgation or night is bitter and terrible to sense, as we shall now

show. [58] The second bears no comparison with it, for it is horrible and

awful to the spirit, as we shall show [59] presently. Since the night of sense

is first in order and comes first, we shall first of all say something about it

briefly, since more is written of it, as of a thing that is more common; and

we shall pass on to treat more fully of the spiritual night, since very little

has been said of this, either in speech [60] or in writing, and very little is

known of it, even by experience.

3. Since, then, the conduct of these beginners upon the way of God is

ignoble, [61] and has much to do with their love of self and their own

inclinations, as has been explained above, God desires to lead them farther.

He seeks to bring them out of that ignoble kind of love to a higher degree of

love for Him, to free them from the ignoble exercises of sense and

meditation (wherewith, as we have said, they go seeking God so unworthily

and in so many ways that are unbefitting), and to lead them to a kind of

spiritual exercise wherein they can commune with Him more abundantly

and are freed more completely from imperfections. For they have now had

practice for some time in the way of virtue and have persevered in

meditation and prayer, whereby, through the sweetness and pleasure that

they have found therein, they have lost their love of the things of the world

and have gained some degree of spiritual strength in God; this has enabled

them to some extent to refrain from creature desires, so that for God’s sake

they are now able to suffer a light burden and a little aridity without turning

back to a time [62] which they found more pleasant. When they are going

about these spiritual exercises with the greatest delight and pleasure, and

when they believe that the sun of Divine favour is shining most brightly

upon them, God turns all this light of theirs into darkness, and shuts against

them the door and the source of the sweet spiritual water which they were

tasting in God whensoever and for as long as they desired. (For, as they

were weak and tender, there was no door closed to them, as Saint John says

in the Apocalypse, iii, 8). And thus He leaves them so completely in the

dark that they know not whither to go with their sensible imagination and

meditation; for they cannot advance a step in meditation, as they were wont

to do afore time, their inward senses being submerged in this night, and left

with such dryness that not only do they experience no pleasure and

consolation in the spiritual things and good exercises wherein they were

wont to find their delights and pleasures, but instead, on the contrary, they

find insipidity and bitterness in the said things. For, as I have said, God now

sees that they have grown a little, and are becoming strong enough to lay

aside their swaddling clothes and be taken from the gentle breast; so He sets

them down from His arms and teaches them to walk on their own feet;

which they feel to be very strange, for everything seems to be going wrong

with them.

4. To recollected persons this commonly happens sooner after their

beginnings than to others, inasmuch as they are freer from occasions of

backsliding, and their desires turn more quickly from the things of the

world, which is necessary if they are to begin to enter this blessed night of

sense. Ordinarily no great time passes after their beginnings before they

begin to enter this night of sense; and the great majority of them do in fact

enter it, for they will generally be seen to fall into these aridities.

5. With regard to this way of purgation of the senses, since it is so common,

we might here adduce a great number of quotations from Divine Scripture,

where many passages relating to it are continually found, particularly in the

Psalms and the Prophets. However, I do not wish to spend time upon these,

for he who knows not how to look for them there will find the common

experience of this purgation to be sufficient.

[58] [Lit., ’say.’]

[59] [Lit., ’say.’]

[60] [plática: the word is frequently used in Spanish to denote an informal

sermon or address.

[61] [Lit., ‘low’; the same word recurs below and is similarly translated.]

[62] [Lit., ‘to the better time.’]

CHAPTER IX

Of the signs by which it will be known that the spiritual person is walking

along the way of this night and purgation of sense.

BUT since these aridities might frequently proceed, not from the night and

purgation of the sensual desires aforementioned, but from sins and

imperfections, or from weakness and lukewarmness, or from some bad

humour or indisposition of the body, I shall here set down certain signs by

which it may be known if such aridity proceeds from the aforementioned

purgation, or if it arises from any of the aforementioned sins. For the

making of this distinction I find that there are three principal signs.

2. The first is whether, when a soul finds no pleasure or consolation in the

things of God, it also fails to find it in any thing created; for, as God sets the

soul in this dark night to the end that He may quench and purge its sensual

desire, He allows it not to find attraction or sweetness in anything

whatsoever. In such a case it may be considered very probable [63] that this

aridity and insipidity proceed not from recently committed sins or

imperfections. For, if this were so, the soul would feel in its nature some

inclination or desire to taste other things than those of God; since, whenever

the desire is allowed indulgence in any imperfection, it immediately feels

inclined thereto, whether little or much, in proportion to the pleasure and

the love that it has put into it. Since, however, this lack of enjoyment in

things above or below might proceed from some indisposition or

melancholy humour, which oftentimes makes it impossible for the soul to

take pleasure in anything, it becomes necessary to apply the second sign

and condition.

3. The second sign whereby a man may believe himself to be experiencing

the said purgation is that the memory is ordinarily centred upon God, with

painful care and solicitude, thinking that it is not serving God, but is

backsliding, because it finds itself without sweetness in the things of God.

And in such a case it is evident that this lack of sweetness and this aridity

come not from weakness and lukewarmness; for it is the nature of

lukewarmness not to care greatly or to have any inward solicitude for the

things of God. There is thus a great difference between aridity and

lukewarmness, for lukewarmness consists in great weakness and remissness

in the will and in the spirit, without solicitude as to serving God; whereas

purgative aridity is ordinarily accompanied by solicitude, with care and

grief as I say, because the soul is not serving God. And, although this may

sometimes be increased by melancholy or some other humour (as it

frequently is), it fails not for that reason to produce a purgative effect upon

the desire, since the desire is deprived of all pleasure and has its care

centred upon God alone. For, when mere humour is the cause, it spends

itself in displeasure and ruin of the physical nature, and there are none of

those desires to sense God which belong to purgative aridity. When the

cause is aridity, it is true that the sensual part of the soul has fallen low, and

is weak and feeble in its actions, by reason of the little pleasure which it

finds in them; but the spirit, on the other hand, is ready and strong.

4. For the cause of this aridity is that God transfers to the spirit the good

things and the strength of the senses, which, since the soul’s natural strength

and senses are incapable of using them, remain barren, dry and empty. For

the sensual part of a man has no capacity for that which is pure spirit, and

thus, when it is the spirit that receives the pleasure, the flesh is left without

savour and is too weak to perform any action. But the spirit, which all the

time is being fed, goes forward in strength, and with more alertness and

solicitude than before, in its anxiety not to fail God; and if it is not

immediately conscious of spiritual sweetness and delight, but only of aridity

and lack of sweetness, the reason for this is the strangeness of the exchange;

for its palate has been accustomed to those other sensual pleasures upon

which its eyes are still fixed, and, since the spiritual palate is not made

ready or purged for such subtle pleasure, until it finds itself becoming

prepared for it by means of this arid and dark night, it cannot experience

spiritual pleasure and good, but only aridity and lack of sweetness, since it

misses the pleasure which aforetime it enjoyed so readily.

5. These souls whom God is beginning to lead through these solitary places

of the wilderness are like to the children of Israel, to whom in the

wilderness God began to give food from Heaven, containing within itself all

sweetness, and, as is there said, it turned to the savour which each one of

them desired. But withal the children of Israel felt the lack of the pleasures

and delights of the flesh and the onions which they had eaten aforetime in

Egypt, the more so because their palate was accustomed to these and took

delight in them, rather than in the delicate sweetness of the angelic manna;

and they wept and sighed for the fleshpots even in the midst of the food of

Heaven. [64] To such depths does the vileness of our desires descend that it

makes us to long for our own wretched food [65] and to be nauseated by the

indescribable [66] blessings of Heaven.

6. But, as I say, when these aridities proceed from the way of the purgation

of sensual desire, although at first the spirit feels no sweetness, for the

reasons that we have just given, it feels that it is deriving strength and

energy to act from the substance which this inward food gives it, the which

food is the beginning of a contemplation that is dark and arid to the senses;

which contemplation is secret and hidden from the very person that

experiences it; and ordinarily, together with the aridity and emptiness which

it causes in the senses, it gives the soul an inclination and desire to be alone

and in quietness, without being able to think of any particular thing or

having the desire to do so. If those souls to whom this comes to pass knew

how to be quiet at this time, and troubled not about performing any kind of

action, whether inward or outward, neither had any anxiety about doing

anything, then they would delicately experience this inward refreshment in

that ease and freedom from care. So delicate is this refreshment that

ordinarily, if a man have desire or care to experience it, he experiences it

not; for, as I say, it does its work when the soul is most at ease and freest

from care; it is like the air which, if one would close one’s hand upon it,

escapes.

7. In this sense we may understand that which the Spouse said to the Bride

in the Songs, namely: ‘Withdraw thine eyes from me, for they make me to

soar aloft.’ [67] For in such a way does God bring the soul into this state,

and by so different a path does He lead it that, if it desires to work with its

faculties, it hinders the work which God is doing in it rather than aids it;

whereas aforetime it was quite the contrary. The reason is that, in this state

of contemplation, which the soul enters when it forsakes meditation for the

state of the proficient, it is God Who is now working in the soul; He binds

its interior faculties, and allows it not to cling to the understanding, nor to

have delight in the will, nor to reason with the memory. For anything that

the soul can do of its own accord at this time serves only, as we have said,

to hinder inward peace and the work which God is accomplishing in the

spirit by means of that aridity of sense. And this peace, being spiritual and

delicate, performs a work which is quiet and delicate, solitary, productive of

peace and satisfaction [68] and far removed from all those earlier pleasures,

which were very palpable and sensual. This is the peace which, says David,

God speaks in the soul to the end that He may make it spiritual. [69] And

this leads us to the third point.

8. The third sign whereby this purgation of sense may be recognized is that

the soul can no longer meditate or reflect in the imaginative sphere of sense

as it was wont, however much it may of itself endeavour to do so. For God

now begins to communicate Himself to it, no longer through sense, as He

did aforetime, by means of reflections which joined and sundered its

knowledge, but by pure spirit, into which consecutive reflections enter not;

but He communicates Himself to it by an act of simple contemplation, to

which neither the exterior nor the interior senses of the lower part of the

soul can attain. From this time forward, therefore, imagination and fancy

can find no support in any meditation, and can gain no foothold by means

thereof.

9. With regard to this third sign, it is to be understood that this

embarrassment and dissatisfaction of the faculties proceed not from

indisposition, for, when this is the case, and the indisposition, which never

lasts for long, [70] comes to an end, the soul is able once again, by taking

some trouble about the matter, to do what it did before, and the faculties

find their wonted support. But in the purgation of the desire this is not so:

when once the soul begins to enter therein, its inability to reflect with the

faculties grows ever greater. For, although it is true that at first, and with

some persons, the process is not as continuous as this, so that occasionally

they fail to abandon their pleasures and reflections of sense (for perchance

by reason of their weakness it was not fitting to wean them from these

immediately), yet this inability grows within them more and more and

brings the workings of sense to an end, if indeed they are to make progress,

for those who walk not in the way of contemplation act very differently. For

this night of aridities is not usually continuous in their senses. At times they

have these aridities; at others they have them not. At times they cannot

meditate; at others they can. For God sets them in this night only to prove

them and to humble them, and to reform their desires, so that they go not

nurturing in themselves a sinful gluttony in spiritual things. He sets them

not there in order to lead them in the way of the spirit, which is this

contemplation; for not all those who walk of set purpose in the way of the

spirit are brought by God to contemplation, nor even the half of them—

why, He best knows. And this is why He never completely weans the senses

of such persons from the breasts of meditations and reflections, but only for

short periods and at certain seasons, as we have said.

[63] [Lit., ‘And in this it is known very probably.’]

[64] Numbers xi, 5-6.

[65] [Lit., ‘makes us to desire our miseries.’]

[66] [Lit., ‘incommunicable.’]

[67] Canticles vi, 4 [A.V., vi, 5].

[68] [Lit., ’satisfactory and pacific.’]

[69] Psalm lxxxiv, 9 [A.V., lxxxv, 8].

[70] [The stress here is evidently on the transience of the distempers

whether they be moral or physical.

CHAPTER X

Of the way in which these souls are to conduct themselves in this dark

night.

DURING the time, then, of the aridities of this night of sense (wherein God

effects the change of which we have spoken above, drawing forth the soul

from the life of sense into that of the spirit—that is, from meditation to

contemplation—wherein it no longer has any power to work or to reason

with its faculties concerning the things of God, as has been said), spiritual

persons suffer great trials, by reason not so much of the aridities which they

suffer, as of the fear which they have of being lost on the road, thinking that

all spiritual blessing is over for them and that God has abandoned them

since they find no help or pleasure in good things. Then they grow weary,

and endeavour (as they have been accustomed to do) to concentrate their

faculties with some degree of pleasure upon some object of meditation,

thinking that, when they are not doing this and yet are conscious of making

an effort, they are doing nothing. This effort they make not without great

inward repugnance and unwillingness on the part of their soul, which was

taking pleasure in being in that quietness and ease, instead of working with

its faculties. So they have abandoned the one pursuit, [71] yet draw no

profit from the other; for, by seeking what is prompted by their own spirit,

[72] they lose the spirit of tranquillity and peace which they had before.

And thus they are like to one who abandons what he has done in order to do

it over again, or to one who leaves a city only to re-enter it, or to one who is

hunting and lets his prey go in order to hunt it once more. This is useless

here, for the soul will gain nothing further by conducting itself in this way,

as has been said.

2. These souls turn back at such a time if there is none who understands

them; they abandon the road or lose courage; or, at the least, they are

hindered from going farther by the great trouble which they take in

advancing along the road of meditation and reasoning. Thus they fatigue

and overwork their nature, imagining that they are failing through

negligence or sin. But this trouble that they are taking is quite useless, for

God is now leading them by another road, which is that of contemplation,

and is very different from the first; for the one is of meditation and

reasoning, and the other belongs neither to imagination nor yet to reasoning.

3. It is well for those who find themselves in this condition to take comfort,

to persevere in patience and to be in no wise afflicted. Let them trust in

God, Who abandons not those that seek Him with a simple and right heart,

and will not fail to give them what is needful for the road, until He bring

them into the clear and pure light of love. This last He will give them by

means of that other dark night, that of the spirit, if they merit His bringing

them thereto.

4. The way in which they are to conduct themselves in this night of sense is

to devote themselves not at all to reasoning and meditation, since this is not

the time for it, but to allow the soul to remain in peace and quietness,

although it may seem clear to them that they are doing nothing and are

wasting their time, and although it may appear to them that it is because of

their weakness that they have no desire in that state to think of anything.

The truth is that they will be doing quite sufficient if they have patience and

persevere in prayer without making any effort. [73] What they must do is

merely to leave the soul free and disencumbered and at rest from all

knowledge and thought, troubling not themselves, in that state, about what

they shall think or meditate upon, but contenting themselves with merely a

peaceful and loving attentiveness toward God, and in being without anxiety,

without the ability and without desired to have experience of Him or to

perceive Him. For all these yearnings disquiet and distract the soul from the

peaceful quiet and sweet ease of contemplation which is here granted to it.

5. And although further scruples may come to them—that they are wasting

their time, and that it would be well for them to do something else, because

they can neither do nor think anything in prayer—let them suffer these

scruples and remain in peace, as there is no question save of their being at

ease and having freedom of spirit. For if such a soul should desire to make

any effort of its own with its interior faculties, this means that it will hinder

and lose the blessings which, by means of that peace and ease of the soul,

God is instilling into it and impressing upon it. It is just as if some painter

were painting or dyeing a face; if the sitter were to move because he desired

to do something, he would prevent the painter from accomplishing anything

and would disturb him in what he was doing. And thus, when the soul

desires to remain in inward ease and peace, any operation and affection or

attentions wherein it may then seek to indulge [74] will distract it and

disquiet it and make it conscious of aridity and emptiness of sense. For the

more a soul endeavours to find support in affection and knowledge, the

more will it feel the lack of these, which cannot now be supplied to it upon

that road.

6. Wherefore it behoves such a soul to pay no heed if the operations of its

faculties become lost to it; it is rather to desire that this should happen

quickly. For, by not hindering the operation of infused contemplation that

God is bestowing upon it, it can receive this with more peaceful abundance,

and cause its spirit to be enkindled and to burn with the love which this dark

and secret contemplation brings with it and sets firmly in the soul. For

contemplation is naught else than a secret, peaceful and loving infusion

from God, which, if it be permitted, enkindles the soul with the spirit of

love, according as the soul declares in the next lines, namely: Kindled in

love with yearnings.

[71] [Lit., ‘spoiling themselves in the one.’]

[72] [Lit., ‘because they seek their spirit.’]

[73] [Lit., ‘without doing anything themselves.’]

[74] [Lit., ‘which it may then wish to have.’]

CHAPTER XI

Wherein are expounded the three lines of the stanza.

THIS enkindling of love is not as a rule felt at the first, because it has not

begun to take hold upon the soul, by reason of the impurity of human

nature, or because the soul has not understood its own state, as we have

said, and has therefore given it no peaceful abiding-place within itself. Yet

sometimes, nevertheless, there soon begins to make itself felt a certain

yearning toward God; and the more this increases, the more is the soul

affectioned and enkindled in love toward God, without knowing or

understanding how and whence this love and affection come to it, but from

time to time seeing this flame and this enkindling grow so greatly within it

that it desires God with yearning of love; even as David, when he was in

this dark night, said of himself in these words, [75] namely: ‘Because my

heart was enkindled (that is to say, in love of contemplation), my reins also

were changed’: that is, my desires for sensual affections were changed,

namely from the way of sense to the way of the spirit, which is the aridity

and cessation from all these things whereof we are speaking. And I, he says,

was dissolved in nothing and annihilated, and I knew not; for, as we have

said, without knowing the way whereby it goes, the soul finds itself

annihilated with respect to all things above and below which were

accustomed to please it; and it finds itself enamoured, without knowing

how. And because at times the enkindling of love in the spirit grows greater,

the yearnings for God become so great in the soul that the very bones seem

to be dried up by this thirst, and the natural powers to be fading away, and

their warmth and strength to be perishing through the intensity [76] of the

thirst of love, for the soul feels that this thirst of love is a living thirst. This

thirst David had and felt, when he said: ‘My soul thirsted for the living

God.’ [77] Which is as much as to say: A living thirst was that of my soul.

Of this thirst, since it is living, we may say that it kills. But it is to be noted

that the vehemence of this thirst is not continuous, but occasional although

as a rule the soul is accustomed to feel it to a certain degree.

2. But it must be noted that, as I began to say just now, this love is not as a

rule felt at first, but only the dryness and emptiness are felt whereof we are

speaking. Then in place of this love which afterwards becomes gradually

enkindled, what the soul experiences in the midst of these aridities and

emptinesses of the faculties is an habitual care and solicitude with respect to

God, together with grief and fear that it is not serving Him. But it is a

sacrifice which is not a little pleasing to God that the soul should go about

afflicted and solicitous for His love. This solicitude and care leads the soul

into that secret contemplation, until, the senses (that is, the sensual part)

having in course of time been in some degree purged of the natural

affections and powers by means of the aridities which it causes within them,

this Divine love begins to be enkindled in the spirit. Meanwhile, however,

like one who has begun a cure, the soul knows only suffering in this dark

and arid purgation of the desire; by this means it becomes healed of many

imperfections, and exercises itself in many virtues in order to make itself

meet for the said love, as we shall now say with respect to the line

following: Oh, happy chance!

3. When God leads the soul into this night of sense in order to purge the

sense of its lower part and to subdue it, unite it and bring it into conformity

with the spirit, by setting it in darkness and causing it to cease from

meditation (as He afterwards does in order to purify the spirit to unite it

with God, as we shall afterwards say), He brings it into the night of the

spirit, and (although it appears not so to it) the soul gains so many benefits

that it holds it to be a happy chance to have escaped from the bonds and

restrictions of the senses of or its lower self, by means of this night

aforesaid; and utters the present line, namely: Oh, happy chance! With

respect to this, it behoves us here to note the benefits which the soul finds in

this night, and because of which it considers it a happy chance to have

passed through it; all of which benefits the soul includes in the next line,

namely: I went forth without being observed.

4. This going forth is understood of the subjection to its sensual part which

the soul suffered when it sought God through operations so weak, so limited

and so defective as are those of this lower part; for at every step it stumbled

into numerous imperfections and ignorances, as we have noted above in

writing of the seven capital sins. From all these it is freed when this night

quenches within it all pleasures, whether from above or from below, and

makes all meditation darkness to it, and grants it other innumerable

blessings in the acquirement of the virtues, as we shall now show. For it

will be a matter of great pleasure and great consolation, to one that journeys

on this road, to see how that which seems to the soul so severe and adverse,

and so contrary to spiritual pleasure, works in it so many blessings. These,

as we say, are gained when the soul goes forth, as regards its affection and

operation, by means of this night, from all created things, and when it

journeys to eternal things, which is great happiness and good fortune: [78]

first, because of the great blessing which is in the quenching of the desire

and affection with respect to all things; secondly, because they are very few

that endure and persevere in entering by this strait gate and by the narrow

way which leads to life, as says Our Saviour. [79] The strait gate is this

night of sense, and the soul detaches itself from sense and strips itself

thereof that it may enter by this gate, and establishes itself in faith, which is

a stranger to all sense, so that afterwards it may journey by the narrow way,

which is the other night—that of the spirit—and this the soul afterwards

enters in order in journey to God in pure faith, which is the means whereby

the soul is united to God. By this road, since it is so narrow, dark and

terrible (though there is no comparison between this night of sense and that

other, in its darkness and trials, as we shall say later), they are far fewer that

journey, but its benefits are far greater without comparison than those of

this present night. Of these benefits we shall now begin to say something,

with such brevity as is possible, in order that we may pass to the other

night.

[75] Psalm lxxii, 21 [A.V., lxxiii, 21-2].

[76] [Lit., ‘livingness’: cf. the quotation below.]

[77] Psalm xli, 3 [A.V., xlii, 2].

[78] [Lit., ‘and chance’: the same word as in the verse-line above.]

[79] St. Matthew vii, 14.

CHAPTER XII

Of the benefits which this night causes in the soul.

THIS night and purgation of the desire, a happy one for the soul, works in it

so many blessings and benefits (although to the soul, as we have said, it

rather seems that blessings are being taken away from it) that, even as

Abraham made a great feast when he weaned his son Isaac, [80] even so is

there joy in Heaven because God is now taking this soul from its swaddling

clothes, setting it down from His arms, making it to walk upon its feet, and

likewise taking from it the milk of the breast and the soft and sweet food

proper to children, and making it to eat bread with crust, and to begin to

enjoy the food of robust persons. This food, in these aridities and this

darkness of sense, is now given to the spirit, which is dry and emptied of all

the sweetness of sense. And this food is the infused contemplation whereof

we have spoken.

2. This is the first and principal benefit caused by this arid and dark night of

contemplation: the knowledge of oneself and of one’s misery. For, besides

the fact that all the favours which God grants to the soul are habitually

granted to them enwrapped in this knowledge, these aridities and this

emptiness of the faculties, compared with the abundance which the soul

experienced aforetime and the difficulty which it finds in good works, make

it recognize its own lowliness and misery, which in the time of its

prosperity it was unable to see. Of this there is a good illustration in the

Book of Exodus, where God, wishing to humble the children of Israel and

desiring that they should know themselves, commanded them to take away

and strip off the festal garments and adornments wherewith they were

accustomed to adorn themselves in the Wilderness, saying: ‘Now from

henceforth strip yourselves of festal ornaments and put on everyday

working dress, that ye may know what treatment ye deserve.’ [81] This is as

though He had said: Inasmuch as the attire that ye wear, being proper to

festival and rejoicing, causes you to feel less humble concerning yourselves

than ye should, put off from you this attire, in order that henceforth, seeing

yourselves clothed with vileness, ye may know that ye merit no more, and

may know who ye are. Wherefore the soul knows the truth that it knew not

at first, concerning its own misery; for, at the time when it was clad as for a

festival and found in God much pleasure, consolation and support, it was

somewhat more satisfied and contented, since it thought itself to some

extent to be serving God. It is true that such souls may not have this idea

explicitly in their minds; but some suggestion of it at least is implanted in

them by the satisfaction which they find in their pleasant experiences. But,

now that the soul has put on its other and working attire—that of aridity and

abandonment—and now that its first lights have turned into darkness, it

possesses these lights more truly in this virtue of self-knowledge, which is

so excellent and so necessary, considering itself now as nothing and

experiencing no satisfaction in itself; for it sees that it does nothing of itself

neither can do anything. And the smallness of this self-satisfaction, together

with the soul’s affliction at not serving God, is considered and esteemed by

God as greater than all the consolations which the soul formerly

experienced and the works which it wrought, however great they were,

inasmuch as they were the occasion of many imperfections and ignorances.

And from this attire of aridity proceed, as from their fount and source of

self-knowledge, not only the things which we have described already, but

also the benefits which we shall now describe and many more which will

have to be omitted.

3. In the first place, the soul learns to commune with God with more respect

and more courtesy, such as a soul must ever observe in converse with the

Most High. These it knew not in its prosperous times of comfort and

consolation, for that comforting favour which it experienced made its

craving for God somewhat bolder than was fitting, and discourteous and ill-

considered. Even so did it happen to Moses, when he perceived that God

was speaking to him; blinded by that pleasure and desire, without further

consideration, he would have made bold to go to Him if God had not

commanded him to stay and put off his shoes. By this incident we are

shown the respect and discretion in detachment of desire wherewith a man

is to commune with God. When Moses had obeyed in this matter, he

became so discreet and so attentive that the Scripture says that not only did

he not make bold to draw near to God, but that he dared not even look at

Him. For, having taken off the shoes of his desires and pleasures, he

became very conscious of his wretchedness in the sight of God, as befitted

one about to hear the word of God. Even so likewise the preparation which

God granted to Job in order that he might speak with Him consisted not in

those delights and glories which Job himself reports that he was wont to

have in his God, but in leaving him naked upon a dung-hill, [82] abandoned

and even persecuted by his friends, filled with anguish and bitterness, and

the earth covered with worms. And then the Most High God, He that lifts

up the poor man from the dunghill, was pleased to come down and speak

with him there face to face, revealing to him the depths and heights [83] of

His wisdom, in a way that He had never done in the time of his prosperity.

4. And here we must note another excellent benefit which there is in this

night and aridity of the desire of sense, since we have had occasion to speak

of it. It is that, in this dark night of the desire (to the end that the words of

the Prophet may be fulfilled, namely: ‘Thy light shall shine in the darkness’

[84] ), God will enlighten the soul, giving it knowledge, not only of its

lowliness and wretchedness, as we have said, but likewise of the greatness

and excellence of God. For, as well as quenching the desires and pleasures

and attachments of sense, He cleanses and frees the understanding that it

may understand the truth; for pleasure of sense and desire, even though it be

for spiritual things, darkens and obstructs the spirit, and furthermore that

straitness and aridity of sense enlightens and quickens the understanding, as

says Isaias. [85] Vexation makes us to understand how the soul that is

empty and disencumbered, as is necessary for His Divine influence, is

instructed supernaturally by God in His Divine wisdom, through this dark

and arid night of contemplation, [86] as we have said; and this instruction

God gave not in those first sweetnesses and joys.

5. This is very well explained by the same prophet Isaias, where he says:

‘Whom shall God teach His knowledge, and whom shall He make to

understand the hearing?’ To those, He says, that are weaned from the milk

and drawn away from the breasts. [87] Here it is shown that the first milk of

spiritual sweetness is no preparation for this Divine influence, neither is

there preparation in attachment to the breast of delectable meditations,

belonging to the faculties of sense, which gave the soul pleasure; such

preparation consists rather in the lack of the one and withdrawal from the

other. Inasmuch as, in order to listen to God, the soul needs to stand upright

and to be detached, with regard to affection and sense, even as the Prophet

says concerning himself, in these words: I will stand upon my watch (this is

that detachment of desire) and I will make firm my step (that is, I will not

meditate with sense), in order to contemplate (that is, in order to understand

that which may come to me from God). [88] So we have now arrived at

this, that from this arid night there first of all comes self-knowledge,

whence, as from a foundation, rises this other knowledge of God. For which

cause Saint Augustine said to God: ‘Let me know myself, Lord, and I shall

know Thee.’ [89] For, as the philosophers say, one extreme can be well

known by another.

6. And in order to prove more completely how efficacious is this night of

sense, with its aridity and its desolation, in bringing the soul that light

which, as we say, it receives there from God, we shall quote that passage of

David, wherein he clearly describes the great power which is in this night

for bringing the soul this lofty knowledge of God. He says, then, thus: ‘In

the desert land, waterless, dry and pathless, I appeared before Thee, that I

might see Thy virtue and Thy glory.’ [90] It is a wondrous thing that David

should say here that the means and the preparation for his knowledge of the

glory of God were not the spiritual delights and the many pleasures which

he had experienced, but the aridities and detachments of his sensual nature,

which is here to be understood by the dry and desert land. No less wondrous

is it that he should describe as the road to his perception and vision of the

virtue of God, not the Divine meditations and conceptions of which he had

often made use, but his being unable to form any conception of God or to

walk by meditation produced by imaginary consideration, which is here to

be understood by the pathless land. So that the means to a knowledge of

God and of oneself is this dark night with its aridities and voids, although it

leads not to a knowledge of Him of the same plenitude and abundance that

comes from the other night of the spirit, since this is only, as it were, the

beginning of that other.

7. Likewise, from the aridities and voids of this night of the desire, the soul

draws spiritual humility, which is the contrary virtue to the first capital sin,

which, as we said, is spiritual pride. Through this humility, which is

acquired by the said knowledge of self, the soul is purged from all those

imperfections whereinto it fell with respect to that sin of pride, in the time

of its prosperity. For it sees itself so dry and miserable that the idea never

even occurs to it that it is making better progress than others, or

outstripping them, as it believed itself to be doing before. On the contrary, it

recognizes that others are making better progress than itself.

8. And hence arises the love of its neighbours, for it esteems them, and

judges them not as it was wont to do aforetime, when it saw that itself had

great fervour and others not so. It is aware only of its own wretchedness,

which it keeps before its eyes to such an extent that it never forgets it, nor

takes occasion to set its eyes on anyone else. This was described

wonderfully by David, when he was in this night, in these words: ‘I was

dumb and was humbled and kept silence from good things and my sorrow

was renewed.’ [91] This he says because it seemed to him that the good that

was in his soul had so completely departed that not only did he neither

speak nor find any language concerning it, but with respect to the good of

others he was likewise dumb because of his grief at the knowledge of his

misery.

9. In this condition, again, souls become submissive and obedient upon the

spiritual road, for, when they see their own misery, not only do they hear

what is taught them, but they even desire that anyone soever may set them

on the way and tell them what they ought to do. The affective presumption

which they sometimes had in their prosperity is taken from them; and

finally, there are swept away from them on this road all the other

imperfections which we noted above with respect to this first sin, which is

spiritual pride.

[80] Genesis xxi, 8.

[81] Exodus xxxiii, 5.

[82] [Job ii, 7-8].

[83] [Lit., ‘the deep heights.’]

[84] Isaias lviii, 10.

[85] Isaias xxviii, 19. [The author omits the actual text.]

[86] To translate this passage at all, we must read the Dios cómo of P.

Silverio (p. 403, 1. 20), which is also found in P. Gerardo and elsewhere, as

cómo Dios.

[87] Isaias xxviii, 9.

[88] Habacuc ii, 1.

[89] St. Augustine: Soliloq., Cap. ii.

[90] Psalm lxii, 3 [A.V., lxiii, 1-2].

[91] Psalm xxxviii, 3 [A.V., xxxix, 2].

CHAPTER XIII

Of other benefits which this night of sense causes in the soul.

WITH respect to the soul’s imperfections of spiritual avarice, because of

which it coveted this and that spiritual thing and found no satisfaction in

this and that exercise by reason of its covetousness for the desire and

pleasure which it found therein, this arid and dark night has now greatly

reformed it. For, as it finds not the pleasure and sweetness which it was

wont to find, but rather finds affliction and lack of sweetness, it has such

moderate recourse to them that it might possibly now lose, through

defective use, what aforetime it lost through excess; although as a rule God

gives to those whom He leads into this night humility and readiness, albeit

with lack of sweetness, so that what is commanded them they may do for

God’s sake alone; and thus they no longer seek profit in many things

because they find no pleasure in them.

2. With respect to spiritual luxury, it is likewise clearly seen that, through

this aridity and lack of sensible sweetness which the soul finds in spiritual

things, it is freed from those impurities which we there noted; for we said

that, as a rule, they proceeded from the pleasure which overflowed from

spirit into sense.

3. But with regard to the imperfections from which the soul frees itself in

this dark night with respect to the fourth sin, which is spiritual gluttony,

they may be found above, though they have not all been described there,

because they are innumerable; and thus I will not detail them here, for I

would fain make an end of this night in order to pass to the next, concerning

which we shall have to pronounce grave words and instructions. Let it

suffice for the understanding of the innumerable benefits which, over and

above those mentioned, the soul gains in this night with respect to this sin

of spiritual gluttony, to say that it frees itself from all those imperfections

which have there been described, and from many other and greater evils,

and vile abominations which are not written above, into which fell many of

whom we have had experience, because they had not reformed their desire

as concerning this inordinate love of spiritual sweetness. For in this arid and

dark night wherein He sets the soul, God has restrained its concupiscence

and curbed its desire so that the soul cannot feed upon any pleasure or

sweetness of sense, whether from above or from below; and this He

continues to do after such manner that the soul is subjected, reformed and

repressed with respect to concupiscence and desire. It loses the strength of

its passions and concupiscence and it becomes sterile, because it no longer

consults its likings. Just as, when none is accustomed to take milk from the

breast, the courses of the milk are dried up, so the desires of the soul are

dried up. And besides these things there follow admirable benefits from this

spiritual sobriety, for, when desire and concupiscence are quenched, the

soul lives in spiritual tranquillity and peace; for, where desire and

concupiscence reign not, there is no disturbance, but peace and consolation

of God.

4. From this there arises another and a second benefit, which is that the soul

habitually has remembrance of God, with fear and dread of backsliding

upon the spiritual road, as has been said. This is a great benefit, and not one

of the least that results from this aridity and purgation of the desire, for the

soul is purified and cleansed of the imperfections that were clinging to it

because of the desires and affections, which of their own accord deaden and

darken the soul.

5. There is another very great benefit for the soul in this night, which is that

it practices several virtues together, as, for example, patience and

longsuffering, which are often called upon in these times of emptiness and

aridity, when the soul endures and perseveres in its spiritual exercises

without consolation and without pleasure. It practises the charity of God,

since it is not now moved by the pleasure of attraction and sweetness which

it finds in its work, but only by God. It likewise practises here the virtue of

fortitude, because, in these difficulties and insipidities which it finds in its

work, it brings strength out of weakness and thus becomes strong. All the

virtues, in short—the theological and also the cardinal and moral—both in

body and in spirit, are practised by the soul in these times of aridity.

6. And that in this night the soul obtains these four benefits which we have

here described (namely, delight of peace, habitual remembrance and

thought of God, cleanness and purity of soul and the practice of the virtues

which we have just described), David tells us, having experienced it himself

when he was in this night, in these words: ‘My soul refused consolations, I

had remembrance of God, I found consolation and was exercised and my

spirit failed.’ [92] And he then says: ‘And I meditated by night with my

heart and was exercised, and I swept and purified my spirit’—that is to say,

from all the affections. [93]

7. With respect to the imperfections of the other three spiritual sins which

we have described above, which are wrath, envy and sloth, the soul is

purged hereof likewise in this aridity of the desire and acquires the virtues

opposed to them; for, softened and humbled by these aridities and hardships

and other temptations and trials wherein God exercises it during this night,

it becomes meek with respect to God, and to itself, and likewise with

respect to its neighbour. So that it is no longer disturbed and angry with

itself because of its own faults, nor with its neighbour because of his,

neither is it displeased with God, nor does it utter unseemly complaints

because He does not quickly make it holy.

8. Then, as to envy, the soul has charity toward others in this respect also;

for, if it has any envy, this is no longer a vice as it was before, when it was

grieved because others were preferred to it and given greater advantage. Its

grief now comes from seeing how great is its own misery, and its envy (if it

has any) is a virtuous envy, since it desires to imitate others, which is great

virtue.

9. Neither are the sloth and the irksomeness which it now experiences

concerning spiritual things vicious as they were before. For in the past these

sins proceeded from the spiritual pleasures which the soul sometimes

experienced and sought after when it found them not. But this new

weariness proceeds not from this insuffficiency of pleasure, because God

has taken from the soul pleasure in all things in this purgation of the desire.

10. Besides these benefits which have been mentioned, the soul attains

innumerable others by means of this arid contemplation. For often, in the

midst of these times of aridity and hardship, God communicates to the soul,

when it is least expecting it, the purest spiritual sweetness and love,

together with a spiritual knowledge which is sometimes very delicate, each

manifestation of which is of greater benefit and worth than those which the

soul enjoyed aforetime; although in its beginnings the soul thinks that this is

not so, for the spiritual influence now granted to it is very delicate and

cannot be perceived by sense.

11. Finally, inasmuch as the soul is now purged from the affections and

desires of sense, it obtains liberty of spirit, whereby in ever greater degree it

gains the twelve fruits of the Holy Spirit. Here, too, it is wondrously

delivered from the hands of its three enemies—devil, world and flesh; for,

its pleasure and delight of sense being quenched with respect to all things,

neither the devil nor the world nor sensuality has any arms or any strength

wherewith to make war upon the spirit.

12. These times of aridity, then, cause the soul to journey in all purity in the

love of God, since it is no longer influenced in its actions by the pleasure

and sweetness of the actions themselves, as perchance it was when it

experienced sweetness, but only by a desire to please God. It becomes

neither presumptuous nor self-satisfied, as perchance it was wont to become

in the time of its prosperity, but fearful and timid with regard to itself,

finding in itself no satisfaction whatsoever; and herein consists that holy

fear which preserves and increases the virtues. This aridity, too, quenches

natural energy and concupiscence, as has also been said. Save for the

pleasure, indeed, which at certain times God Himself infuses into it, it is a

wonder if it finds pleasure and consolation of sense, through its own

diligence, in any spiritual exercise or action, as has already been said.

13. There grows within souls that experience this arid night concern for

God and yearnings to serve Him, for in proportion as the breasts of

sensuality, wherewith it sustained and nourished the desires that it pursued,

are drying up, there remains nothing in that aridity and detachment save the

yearning to serve God, which is a thing very pleasing to God. For, as David

says, an afflicted spirit is a sacrifice to God. [94]

14. When the soul, then, knows that, in this arid purgation through which it

has passed, it has derived and attained so many and such precious benefits

as those which have here been described, it tarries not in crying, as in the

stanza of which we are expounding the lines, ‘Oh, happy chance!—I went

forth without being observed.’ That is, ‘I went forth’ from the bonds and

subjection of the desires of sense and the affections, ‘without being

observed’—that is to say, without the three enemies aforementioned being

able to keep me from it. These enemies, as we have said, bind the soul as

with bonds, in its desires and pleasures, and prevent it from going forth

from itself to the liberty of the love of God; and without these desires and

pleasures they cannot give battle to the soul, as has been said.

15. When, therefore, the four passions of the soul—which are joy, grief,

hope and fear—are calmed through continual mortification; when the

natural desires have been lulled to sleep, in the sensual nature of the soul,

by means of habitual times of aridity; and when the harmony of the senses

and the interior faculties causes a suspension of labour and a cessation from

the work of meditation, as we have said (which is the dwelling and the

household of the lower part of the soul), these enemies cannot obstruct this

spiritual liberty, and the house remains at rest and quiet, as says the

following line: My house being now at rest.

[92] Psalm lxxvi, 4 [A.V., lxxvii, 3-4].

[93] Psalm lxxvi, 7 [A.V., lxxvii, 6].

[94] Psalm l, 19 [A.V., li, 17.]

CHAPTER XIV

Expounds this last line of the first stanza.

WHEN this house of sensuality was now at rest—that is, was mortified—its

passions being quenched and its desires put to rest and lulled to sleep by

means of this blessed night of the purgation of sense, the soul went forth, to

set out upon the road and way of the spirit, which is that of progressives and

proficients, and which, by another name, is called the way of illumination

or of infused contemplation, wherein God Himself feeds and refreshes the

soul, without meditation, or the soul’s active help. Such, as we have said, is

the night and purgation of sense in the soul. In those who have afterwards to

enter the other and more formidable night of the spirit, in order to pass to

the Divine union of love of God (for not all pass habitually thereto, but only

the smallest number), it is wont to be accompanied by formidable trials and

temptations of sense, which last for a long time, albeit longer in some than

in others. For to some the angel of Satan presents himself—namely, the

spirit of fornication—that he may buffet their senses with abominable and

violent temptations, and trouble their spirits with vile considerations and

representations which are most visible to the imagination, which things at

times are a greater affliction to them than death.

2. At other times in this night there is added to these things the spirit of

blasphemy, which roams abroad, setting in the path of all the conceptions

and thoughts of the soul intolerable blasphemies. These it sometimes

suggests to the imagination with such violence that the soul almost utters

them, which is a grave torment to it.

3. At other times another abominable spirit, which Isaias calls Spiritus

vertiginis, [95] is allowed to molest them, not in order that they may fall,

but that it may try them. This spirit darkens their senses in such a way that it

fills them with numerous scruples and perplexities, so confusing that, as

they judge, they can never, by any means, be satisfied concerning them,

neither can they find any help for their judgment in counsel or thought. This

is one of the severest goads and horrors of this night, very closely akin to

that which passes in the night of the spirit.

4. As a rule these storms and trials are sent by God in this night and

purgation of sense to those whom afterwards He purposes to lead into the

other night (though not all reach it), to the end that, when they have been

chastened and buffeted, they may in this way continually exercise and

prepare themselves, and continually accustom their senses and faculties to

the union of wisdom which is to be bestowed upon them in that other night.

For, if the soul be not tempted, exercised and proved with trials and

temptations, it cannot quicken its sense of Wisdom. For this reason it is said

in Ecclesiasticus: ‘He that has not been tempted, what does he know? And

he that has not been proved, what are the things that he recognizes?’ [96] To

this truth Jeremias bears good witness, saying: ‘Thou didst chastise me,

Lord, and I was instructed.’ [97] And the most proper form of this

chastisement, for one who will enter into Wisdom, is that of the interior

trials which we are here describing, inasmuch as it is these which most

effectively purge sense of all favours and consolations to which it was

affected, with natural weakness, and by which the soul is truly humiliated in

preparation for the exaltation which it is to experience.

5. For how long a time the soul will be held in this fasting and penance of

sense, cannot be said with any certainty; for all do not experience it after

one manner, neither do all encounter the same temptations. For this is meted

out by the will of God, in conformity with the greater or the smaller degree

of imperfection which each soul has to purge away. In conformity, likewise,

with the degree of love of union to which God is pleased to raise it, He will

humble it with greater or less intensity or in greater or less time. Those who

have the disposition and greater strength to suffer, He purges with greater

intensity and more quickly. But those who are very weak are kept for a long

time in this night, and these He purges very gently and with slight

temptations. Habitually, too, He gives them refreshments of sense so that

they may not fall away, and only after a long time do they attain to purity of

perfection in this life, some of them never attaining to it at all. Such are

neither properly in the night nor properly out of it; for, although they make

no progress, yet, in order that they may continue in humility and self-

knowledge, God exercises them for certain periods and at certain times [98]

in those temptations and aridities; and at other times and seasons He assists

them with consolations, lest they should grow faint and return to seek the

consolations of the world. Other souls, which are weaker, God Himself

accompanies, now appearing to them, now moving farther away, that He

may exercise them in His love; for without such turnings away they would

not learn to reach God.

6. But the souls which are to pass on to that happy and high estate, the

union of love, are wont as a rule to remain for a long time in these aridities

and temptations, however quickly God may lead them, as has been seen by

experience. It is time, then, to begin to treat of the second night.

[95] [The ’spirit of giddiness’ of D.V., and ‘perverse spirit’ of A.V., Isaias

xix, 14.

[96] Ecclesiasticus xxxiv, 9-10.

[97] Jeremias xxxi, 18.

[98] [Lit., ‘for certain days.’]

[20] [More exactly: ‘purificative.’]

Contents
BOOK THE SECOND
1 CHAPTER I
2 CHAPTER II
3 CHAPTER III
4 CHAPTER IV
5 CHAPTER V
6 CHAPTER VI
7 CHAPTER VII
8 CHAPTER VIII
9 CHAPTER IX
10 CHAPTER X
11 CHAPTER XI
12 CHAPTER XII
13 CHAPTER XIII
14 CHAPTER XIV
15 CHAPTER XV
16 CHAPTER XVI
17 CHAPTER XVII
18 CHAPTER XVIII
19 CHAPTER XIX
20 CHAPTER XX
21 CHAPTER XXI
22 CHAPTER XXII
23 CHAPTER XXIII
24 CHAPTER XXIV
25 CHAPTER XXV

BOOK THE SECOND

Of the Dark Night of the Spirit.

CHAPTER I

Which begins to treat of the dark nights of the spirit and says at what time it

begins.

THE soul which God is about to lead onward is not led by His Majesty into

this night of the spirit as soon as it goes forth from the aridities and trials of

the first purgation and night of sense; rather it is wont to pass a long time,

even years, after leaving the state of beginners, in exercising itself in that of

proficients. In this latter state it is like to one that has come forth from a

rigorous imprisonment; [99] it goes about the things of God with much

greater freedom and satisfaction of the soul, and with more abundant and

inward delight than it did at the beginning before it entered the said night.

For its imagination and faculties are no longer bound, as they were before,

by meditation and anxiety of spirit, since it now very readily finds in its

spirit the most serene and loving contemplation and spiritual sweetness

without the labour of meditation; although, as the purgation of the soul is

not complete (for the principal part thereof, which is that of the spirit, is

wanting, without which, owing to the communication that exists between

the one part and the other, [100] since the subject is one only, the purgation

of sense, however violent it may have been, is not yet complete and

perfect), it is never without certain occasional necessities, aridities,

darknesses and perils which are sometimes much more intense than those of

the past, for they are as tokens and heralds of the coming night of the spirit,

and are not of as long duration as will be the night which is to come. For,

having passed through a period, or periods, or days of this night and

tempest, the soul soon returns to its wonted serenity; and after this manner

God purges certain souls which are not to rise to so high a degree of love as

are others, bringing them at times, and for short periods, into this night of

contemplation and purgation of the spirit, causing night to come upon them

and then dawn, and this frequently, so that the words of David may be

fulfilled, that He sends His crystal—that is, His contemplation—like

morsels, [101] although these morsels of dark contemplation are never as

intense as is that terrible night of contemplation which we are to describe,

into which, of set purpose, God brings the soul that He may lead it to

Divine union.

2. This sweetness, then, and this interior pleasure which we are describing,

and which these progressives find and experience in their spirits so easily

and so abundantly, is communicated to them in much greater abundance

than aforetime, overflowing into their senses more than was usual

previously to this purgation of sense; for, inasmuch as the sense is now

purer, it can more easily feel the pleasures of the spirit after its manner. As,

however, this sensual part of the soul is weak and incapable of experiencing

the strong things of the spirit, it follows that these proficients, by reason of

this spiritual communication which is made to their sensual part endure

therein many frailties and sufferings and weaknesses of the stomach, and in

consequence are fatigued in spirit. For, as the Wise Man says: ‘The

corruptible body presseth down the soul.’ [102] Hence comes it that the

communications that are granted to these souls cannot be very strong or

very intense or very spiritual, as is required for Divine union with God, by

reason of the weakness and corruption of the sensual nature which has a

part in them. Hence arise the raptures and trances and dislocations of the

bones which always happen when the communications are not purely

spiritual—that is, are not given to the spirit alone, as are those of the perfect

who are purified by the second night of the spirit, and in whom these

raptures and torments of the body no longer exist, since they are enjoying

liberty of spirit, and their senses are now neither clouded nor transported.

3. And in order that the necessity for such souls to enter this night of the

spirit may be understood, we will here note certain imperfections and perils

which belong to these proficients.

[99] [Lit., ‘from a narrow prison.’]

[100] [i.e., between sense and spirit.]

[101] Psalm cxlvii, 17 [D.V. and A.V.].

[102] Wisdom ix, 15.

CHAPTER II

Describes other imperfections [103] which belong to these proficients.

THESE proficients have two kinds of imperfection: the one kind is habitual;

the other actual. The habitual imperfections are the imperfect habits and

affections which have remained all the time in the spirit, and are like roots,

to which the purgation of sense has been unable to penetrate. The difference

between the purgation of these and that of this other kind is the difference

between the root and the branch, or between the removing of a stain which

is fresh and one which is old and of long standing. For, as we said, the

purgation of sense is only the entrance and beginning of contemplation

leading to the purgation of the spirit, which, as we have likewise said,

serves rather to accommodate sense to spirit than to unite spirit with God.

But there still remain in the spirit the stains of the old man, although the

spirit thinks not that this is so, neither can it perceive them; if these stains

be not removed with the soap and strong lye of the purgation of this night,

the spirit will be unable to come to the purity of Divine union.

2. These souls have likewise the hebetudo mentis [104] and the natural

roughness which every man contracts through sin, and the distraction and

outward clinging of the spirit, which must be enlightened, refined and

recollected by the afflictions and perils of that night. These habitual

imperfections belong to all those who have not passed beyond this state of

the proficient; they cannot coexist, as we say, with the perfect state of union

through love.

3. To actual imperfections all are not liable in the same way. Some, whose

spiritual good is so superficial and so readily affected by sense, fall into

greater difficulties and dangers, which we described at the beginning of this

treatise. For, as they find so many and such abundant spiritual

communications and apprehensions, both in sense and in spirit wherein they

oftentimes see imaginary and spiritual visions (for all these things, together

with other delectable feelings, come to many souls in this state, wherein the

devil and their own fancy very commonly practise deceptions on them),

and, as the devil is apt to take such pleasure in impressing upon the soul and

suggesting to it the said apprehensions and feelings, he fascinates and

deludes it with great ease unless it takes the precaution of resigning itself to

God, and of protecting itself strongly, by means of faith, from all these

visions and feelings. For in this state the devil causes many to believe in

vain visions and false prophecies; and strives to make them presume that

God and the saints are speaking with them; and they often trust their own

fancy. And the devil is also accustomed, in this state, to fill them with

presumption and pride, so that they become attracted by vanity and

arrogance, and allow themselves to be seen engaging in outward acts which

appear holy, such as raptures and other manifestations. Thus they become

bold with God, and lose holy fear, which is the key and the custodian of all

the virtues; and in some of these souls so many are the falsehoods and

deceits which tend to multiply, and so inveterate do they grow, that it is very

doubtful if such souls will return to the pure road of virtue and true

spirituality. Into these miseries they fall because they are beginning to give

themselves over to spiritual feelings and apprehensions with too great

security, when they were beginning to make some progress upon the way.

4. There is much more that I might say of these imperfections and of how

they are the more incurable because such souls consider them to be more

spiritual than the others, but I will leave this subject. I shall only add, in

order to prove how necessary, for him that would go farther, is the night of

the spirit, which is purgation, that none of these proficients, however

strenuously he may have laboured, is free, at best, from many of those

natural affections and imperfect habits, purification from which, we said, is

necessary if a soul is to pass to Divine union.

5. And over and above this (as we have said already), inasmuch as the

lower part of the soul still has a share in these spiritual communications,

they cannot be as intense, as pure and as strong as is needful for the

aforesaid union; wherefore, in order to come to this union, the soul must

needs enter into the second night of the spirit, wherein it must strip sense

and spirit perfectly from all these apprehensions and from all sweetness,

and be made to walk in dark and pure faith, which is the proper and

adequate means whereby the soul is united with God, according as Osee

says, in these words: ‘I will betroth thee—that is, I will unite thee—with

Me through faith.’ [105]

[103] [Lit., ‘Continues with other imperfections.’]

[104] [i.e., ‘deadening of the mind.’]

[105] Osee ii, 20.

CHAPTER III

Annotation for that which follows.

THESE souls, then, have now become proficients, because of the time

which they have spent in feeding the senses with sweet communications, so

that their sensual part, being thus attracted and delighted by spiritual

pleasure, which came to it from the spirit, may be united with the spirit and

made one with it; each part after its own manner eating of one and the same

spiritual food and from one and the same dish, as one person and with one

sole intent, so that thus they may in a certain way be united and brought

into agreement, and, thus united, may be prepared for the endurance of the

stern and severe purgation of the spirit which awaits them. In this purgation

these two parts of the soul, the spiritual and the sensual, must be completely

purged, since the one is never truly purged without the other, the purgation

of sense becoming effective when that of the spirit has fairly begun.

Wherefore the night which we have called that of sense may and should be

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

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

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

bad, are brought into subjection, and thus, until these are purged, the

rebellions and depravities of sense cannot be purged thoroughly.

2. Wherefore, in this night following, both parts of the soul are purged

together, and it is for this end that it is well to have passed through the

corrections of the first night, and the period of tranquillity which proceeds

from it, in order that, sense being united with spirit, both may be purged

after a certain manner and may then suffer with greater fortitude. For very

great fortitude is needful for so violent and severe a purgation, since, if the

weakness of the lower part has not first been corrected and fortitude has not

been gained from God through the sweet and delectable communion which

the soul has afterwards enjoyed with Him, its nature will not have the

strength or the disposition to bear it.

3. Therefore, since these proficients are still at a very low stage of progress,

and follow their own nature closely in the intercourse and dealings which

they have with God, because the gold of their spirit is not yet purified and

refined, they still think of God as little children, and speak of God as little

children, and feel and experience God as little children, even as Saint Paul

says, [106] because they have not reached perfection, which is the union of

the soul with God. In the state of union, however, they will work great

things in the spirit, even as grown men, and their works and faculties will

then be Divine rather than human, as will afterwards be said. To this end

God is pleased to strip them of this old man and clothe them with the new

man, who is created according to God, as the Apostle says, [107] in the

newness of sense. He strips their faculties, affections and feelings, both

spiritual and sensual, both outward and inward, leaving the understanding

dark, the will dry, the memory empty and the affections in the deepest

affliction, bitterness and constraint, taking from the soul the pleasure and

experience of spiritual blessings which it had aforetime, in order to make of

this privation one of the principles which are requisite in the spirit so that

there may be introduced into it and united with it the spiritual form of the

spirit, which is the union of love. All this the Lord works in the soul by

means of a pure and dark contemplation, as the soul explains in the first

stanza. This, although we originally interpreted it with reference to the first

night of sense, is principally understood by the soul of this second night of

the spirit, since this is the principal part of the purification of the soul. And

thus we shall set it down and expound it here again in this sense.

[106] 1 Corinthians xiii, 11.

[107] [Ephesians iv, 24.]

CHAPTER IV

Sets down the first stanza and the exposition thereof.

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

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

EXPOSITION

INTERPRETING this stanza now with reference to purgation,

contemplation or detachment or poverty of spirit, which here are almost one

and the same thing, we can expound it after this manner and make the soul

speak thus: In poverty, and without protection or support in all the

apprehensions of my soul—that is, in the darkness of my understanding and

the constraint of my will, in affliction and anguish with respect to memory,

remaining in the dark in pure faith, which is dark night for the said natural

faculties, the will alone being touched by grief and afflictions and yearnings

for the love of God—I went forth from myself—that is, from my low

manner of understanding, from my weak mode of loving and from my poor

and limited manner of experiencing God, without being hindered therein by

sensuality or the devil.

2. This was a great happiness and a good chance for me; for, when the

faculties had been perfectly annihilated and calmed, together with the

passions, desires and affections of my soul, wherewith I had experienced

and tasted God after a lowly manner, I went forth from my own human

dealings and operations to the operations and dealings of God. That is to

say, my understanding went forth from itself, turning from the human and

natural to the Divine; for, when it is united with God by means of this

purgation, its understanding no longer comes through its natural light and

vigour, but through the Divine Wisdom wherewith it has become united.

And my will went forth from itself, becoming Divine; for, being united with

Divine love, it no longer loves with its natural strength after a lowly

manner, but with strength and purity from the Holy Spirit; and thus the will,

which is now near to God, acts not after a human manner, and similarly the

memory has become transformed into eternal apprehensions of glory. And

finally, by means of this night and purgation of the old man, all the energies

and affections of the soul are wholly renewed into a Divine temper and

Divine delight.

There follows the line: On a dark night.

CHAPTER V

Sets down the first line and begins to explain how this dark contemplation

is not only night for the soul but is also grief and torment.

THIS dark night is an inflowing of God into the soul, which purges it from

its ignorances and imperfections, habitual natural and spiritual, and which is

called by contemplatives infused contemplation, or mystical theology.

Herein God secretly teaches the soul and instructs it in perfection of love

without its doing anything, or understanding of what manner is this infused

contemplation. Inasmuch as it is the loving wisdom of God, God produces

striking effects in the soul for, by purging and illumining it, He prepares it

for the union of love with God. Wherefore the same loving wisdom that

purges the blessed spirits and enlightens them is that which here purges the

soul and illumines it.

2. But the question arises: Why is the Divine light (which as we say,

illumines and purges the soul from its ignorances) here called by the soul a

dark night? To this the answer is that for two reasons this Divine wisdom is

not only night and darkness for the soul, but is likewise affliction and

torment. The first is because of the height of Divine Wisdom, which

transcends the talent of the soul, and in this way is darkness to it; the

second, because of its vileness and impurity, in which respect it is painful

and afflictive to it, and is also dark.

3. In order to prove the first point, we must here assume a certain doctrine

of the philosopher, which says that, the clearer and more manifest are

Divine things in themselves the darker and more hidden are they to the soul

naturally; just as, the clearer is the light, the more it blinds and darkens the

pupil of the owl, and, the more directly we look at the sun, the greater is the

darkness which it causes in our visual faculty, overcoming and

overwhelming it through its own weakness. In the same way, when this

Divine light of contemplation assails the soul which is not yet wholly

enlightened, it causes spiritual darkness in it; for not only does it overcome

it, but likewise it overwhelms it and darkens the act of its natural

intelligence. For this reason Saint Dionysius and other mystical theologians

call this infused contemplation a ray of darkness—that is to say, for the soul

that is not enlightened and purged—for the natural strength of the intellect

is transcended and overwhelmed by its great supernatural light. Wherefore

David likewise said: That near to God and round about Him are darkness

and cloud; [108] not that this is so in fact, but that it is so to our weak

understanding, which is blinded and darkened by so vast a light, to which it

cannot attain. [109] For this cause the same David then explained himself,

saying: ‘Through the great splendour of His presence passed clouds’ [110]

—that is, between God and our understanding. And it is for this cause that,

when God sends it out from Himself to the soul that is not yet transformed,

this illumining ray of His secret wisdom causes thick darkness in the

understanding.

4. And it is clear that this dark contemplation is in these its beginnings

painful likewise to the soul; for, as this Divine infused contemplation has

many excellences that are extremely good, and the soul that receives them,

not being purged, has many miseries that are likewise extremely bad, hence

it follows that, as two contraries cannot coexist in one subject—the soul—it

must of necessity have pain and suffering, since it is the subject wherein

these two contraries war against each other, working the one against the

other, by reason of the purgation of the imperfections of the soul which

comes to pass through this contemplation. This we shall prove inductively

in the manner following.

5. In the first place, because the light and wisdom of this contemplation is

most bright and pure, and the soul which it assails is dark and impure, it

follows that the soul suffers great pain when it receives it in itself, just as,

when the eyes are dimmed by humours, and become impure and weak, the

assault made upon them by a bright light causes them pain. And when the

soul suffers the direct assault of this Divine light, its pain, which results

from its impurity, is immense; because, when this pure light assails the soul,

in order to expel its impurity, the soul feels itself to be so impure and

miserable that it believes God to be against it, and thinks that it has set itself

up against God. This causes it sore grief and pain, because it now believes

that God has cast it away: this was one of the greatest trials which Job felt

when God sent him this experience, and he said: ‘Why hast Thou set me

contrary to Thee, so that I am grievous and burdensome to myself?’ [111]

For, by means of this pure light, the soul now sees its impurity clearly

(although darkly), and knows clearly that it is unworthy of God or of any

creature. And what gives it most pain is that it thinks that it will never be

worthy and that its good things are all over for it. This is caused by the

profound immersion of its spirit in the knowledge and realization of its evils

and miseries; for this Divine and dark light now reveals them all to the eye,

that it may see clearly how in its own strength it can never have aught else.

In this sense we may understand that passage from David, which says: ‘For

iniquity Thou hast corrected man and hast made his soul to be undone and

consumed: he wastes away as the spider.’ [112]

6. The second way in which the soul suffers pain is by reason of its

weakness, natural, moral and spiritual; for, when this Divine contemplation

assails the soul with a certain force, in order to strengthen it and subdue it, it

suffers such pain in its weakness that it nearly swoons away. This is

especially so at certain times when it is assailed with somewhat greater

force; for sense and spirit, as if beneath some immense and dark load, are in

such great pain and agony that the soul would find advantage and relief in

death. This had been experienced by the prophet Job, when he said: ‘I

desire not that He should have intercourse with me in great strength, lest He

oppress me with the weight of His greatness.’ [113]

7. Beneath the power of this oppression and weight the soul feels itself so

far from being favoured that it thinks, and correctly so, that even that

wherein it was wont to find some help has vanished with everything else,

and that there is none who has pity upon it. To this effect Job says likewise:

‘Have pity upon me, have pity upon me, at least ye my friends, because the

hand of the Lord has touched me.’ [114] A thing of great wonder and pity is

it that the soul’s weakness and impurity should now be so great that, though

the hand of God is of itself so light and gentle, the soul should now feel it to

be so heavy and so contrary, [115] though it neither weighs it down nor

rests upon it, but only touches it, and that mercifully, since He does this in

order to grant the soul favours and not to chastise it.

[108] Psalm xcvi, 2 [A.V., xcvii, 2].

[109] [Lit., ‘not attaining.’]

[110] Psalm xvii, 13, [A.V., xviii, 12].

[111] Job vii, 20.

[112] Psalm xxxviii, 12 [A.V., xxxix, 11].

[113] Job xxiii, 6.

[114] Job xix, 21.

[115] [There is a reference here to Job vii, 20: cf. sect. 5, above.]

CHAPTER VI

Of other kinds of pain that the soul suffers in this night.

THE third kind of suffering and pain that the soul endures in this state

results from the fact that two other extremes meet here in one, namely, the

Divine and the human. The Divine is this purgative contemplation, and the

human is the subject—that is, the soul. The Divine assails the soul in order

to renew it and thus to make it Divine; and, stripping it of the habitual

affections and attachments of the old man, to which it is very closely united,

knit together and conformed, destroys and consumes its spiritual substance,

and absorbs it in deep and profound darkness. As a result of this, the soul

feels itself to be perishing and melting away, in the presence and sight of its

miseries, in a cruel spiritual death, even as if it had been swallowed by a

beast and felt itself being devoured in the darkness of its belly, suffering

such anguish as was endured by Jonas in the belly of that beast of the sea.

[116] For in this sepulchre of dark death it must needs abide until the

spiritual resurrection which it hopes for.

2. A description of this suffering and pain, although in truth it transcends all

description, is given by David, when he says: ‘The lamentations of death

compassed me about; the pains of hell surrounded me; I cried in my

tribulation.’ [117] But what the sorrowful soul feels most in this condition

is its clear perception, as it thinks, that God has abandoned it, and, in His

abhorrence of it, has flung it into darkness; it is a grave and piteous grief for

it to believe that God has forsaken it. It is this that David also felt so much

in a like case, saying: ‘After the manner wherein the wounded are dead in

the sepulchres,’ being now cast off by Thy hand, so that Thou rememberest

them no more, even so have they set me in the deepest and lowest lake, in

the dark places and in the shadow of death, and Thy fury is confirmed upon

me and all Thy waves Thou hast brought in upon me.’ [118] For indeed,

when this purgative contemplation is most severe, the soul feels very keenly

the shadow of death and the lamentations of death and the pains of hell,

which consist in its feeling itself to be without God, and chastised and cast

out, and unworthy of Him; and it feels that He is wroth with it. All this is

felt by the soul in this condition—yea, and more, for it believes that it is so

with it for ever.

3. It feels, too, that all creatures have forsaken it, and that it is contemned

by them, particularly by its friends. Wherefore David presently continues,

saying: ’ Thou hast put far from me my friends and acquaintances; they

have counted me an abomination.’ [119] To all this will Jonas testify, as one

who likewise experienced it in the belly of the beast, both bodily and

spiritually. ‘Thou hast cast me forth (he says) into the deep, into the heart of

the sea, and the flood hath compassed me; all its billows and waves have

passed over me. And I said, “I am cast away out of the sight of Thine eyes,

but I shall once again see Thy holy temple” (which he says, because God

purifies the soul in this state that it may see His temple); the waters

compassed me, even to the soul, the deep hath closed me round about, the

ocean hath covered my head, I went down to the lowest parts of the

mountains; the bars of the earth have shut me up for ever.’ [120] By these

bars are here understood, in this sense, imperfections of the soul, which

have impeded it from enjoying this delectable contemplation.

4. The fourth kind of pain is caused in the soul by another excellence of this

dark contemplation, which is its majesty and greatness, from which arises in

the soul a consciousness of the other extreme which is in itself—namely,

that of the deepest poverty and wretchedness: this is one of the chiefest

pains that it suffers in this purgation. For it feels within itself a profound

emptiness and impoverishment of three kinds of good, which are ordained

for the pleasure of the soul which are the temporal, the natural and the

spiritual; and finds itself set in the midst of the evils contrary to these,

namely, miseries of imperfection, aridity and emptiness of the

apprehensions of the faculties and abandonment of the spirit in darkness.

Inasmuch as God here purges the soul according to the substance of its

sense and spirit, and according to the interior and exterior faculties, the soul

must needs be in all its parts reduced to a state of emptiness, poverty and

abandonment and must be left dry and empty and in darkness. For the

sensual part is purified in aridity, the faculties are purified in the emptiness

of their perceptions and the spirit is purified in thick darkness.

5. All this God brings to pass by means of this dark contemplation; wherein

the soul not only suffers this emptiness and the suspension of these natural

supports and perceptions, which is a most afflictive suffering (as if a man

were suspended or held in the air so that he could not breathe), but likewise

He is purging the soul, annihilating it, emptying it or consuming in it (even

as fire consumes the mouldiness and the rust of metal) all the affections and

imperfect habits which it has contracted in its whole life. Since these are

deeply rooted in the substance of the soul, it is wont to suffer great

undoings and inward torment, besides the said poverty and emptiness,

natural and spiritual, so that there may here be fulfilled that passage from

Ezechiel which says: ‘Heap together the bones and I will burn them in the

fire; the flesh shall be consumed and the whole composition shall be burned

and the bones shall be destroyed.’ [121] Herein is understood the pain

which is suffered in the emptiness and poverty of the substance of the soul

both in sense and in spirit. And concerning this he then says: ’set it also

empty upon the coals, that its metal may become hot and molten, and its

uncleanness may be destroyed within it, and its rust may be consumed.’

[122] Herein is described the grave suffering which the soul here endures in

the purgation of the fire of this contemplation, for the Prophet says here

that, in order for the rust of the affections which are within the soul to be

purified and destroyed, it is needful that, in a certain manner, the soul itself

should be annihilated and destroyed, since these passions and imperfections

have become natural to it.

6. Wherefore, because the soul is purified in this furnace like gold in a

crucible, as says the Wise Man, [123] it is conscious of this complete

undoing of itself in its very substance, together with the direst poverty,

wherein it is, as it were, nearing its end, as may be seen by that which

David says of himself in this respect, in these words: ’save me, Lord (he

cries to God), for the waters have come in even unto my soul; I am made

fast in the mire of the deep and there is no place where I can stand; I am

come into the depth of the sea and a tempest hath overwhelmed me; I have

laboured crying, my throat has become hoarse, mine eyes have failed whilst

I hope in my God.’ [124] Here God greatly humbles the soul in order that

He may afterwards greatly exalt it; and if He ordained not that, when these

feelings arise within the soul, they should speedily be stilled, it would die in

a very short space; but there are only occasional periods when it is

conscious of their greatest intensity. At times, however, they are so keen

that the soul seems to be seeing hell and perdition opened. Of such are they

that in truth go down alive into hell, being purged here on earth in the same

manner as there, since this purgation is that which would have to be

accomplished there. And thus the soul that passes through this either enters

not that place [125] at all, or tarries there but for a very short time; for one

hour of purgation here is more profitable than are many there.

[116] Jonas ii, 1.

[117]

[118] Psalm lxxxvii, 6-8 [A.V., lxxxviii, 5-7].

[119] Psalm lxxxvii, 9 [A.V., lxxxviii, 8].

[120] Jonas ii, 4-7 [A.V., ii, 3-6].

[121] Ezechiel xxiv, 10.

[122] Ezechiel xxiv, 11.

[123] Wisdom iii, 6.

[124] Psalm lxviii, 2-4 [A.V., lxix, 1-3].

[125] [i.e., purgatory.]

CHAPTER VII

Continues the same matter and considers other afflictions end constraints of

the will.

THE afflictions and constraints of the will are now very great likewise, and

of such a kind that they sometimes transpierce the soul with a sudden

remembrance of the evils in the midst of which it finds itself, and with the

uncertainty of finding a remedy for them. And to this is added the

remembrance of times of prosperity now past; for as a rule souls that enter

this night have had many consolations from God, and have rendered Him

many services, and it causes them the greater grief to see that they are far

removed from that happiness and unable to enter into it. This was also

described by Job, who had had experience of it, in these words: ‘I, who was

wont to be wealthy and rich, am suddenly undone and broken to pieces; He

hath taken me by my neck; He hath broken me and set me up for His mark

to wound me; He hath compassed me round about with His lances; He hath

wounded all my loins; He hath not spared; He hath poured out my bowels

on the earth; He hath broken me with wound upon wound; He hath assailed

me as a strong giant; I have sewed sackcloth upon my skin and have

covered my flesh with ashes; my face is become swollen with weeping and

mine eyes are blinded.’ [126]

2. So many and so grievous are the afflictions of this night, and so many

passages of Scripture are there which could be cited to this purpose, that

time and strength would fail us to write of them, for all that can be said

thereof is certainly less than the truth. From the passages already quoted

some idea may be gained of them. And, that we may bring the exposition of

this line to a close and explain more fully what is worked in the soul by this

night, I shall tell what Jeremias felt about it, which, since there is so much

of it, he describes and bewails in many words after this manner: ‘I am the

man that see my poverty in the rod of His indignation; He hath threatened

me and brought me into darkness and not into light. So far hath He turned

against me and hath converted His hand upon me all the day! My skin and

my flesh hath He made old; He hath broken my bones; He hath made a

fence around me and compassed me with gall and trial; He hath set me in

dark places, as those that are dead for ever. He hath made a fence around

me and against me, that I may not go out; He hath made my captivity heavy.

Yea, and when I have cried and have entreated, He hath shut out my prayer.

He hath enclosed my paths and ways out with square stones; He hath

thwarted my steps. He hath set ambushes for me; He hath become to me a

lion in a secret place. He hath turned aside my steps and broken me in

pieces, He hath made me desolate; He hath bent His bow and set me as a

mark for His arrow. He hath shot into my reins the daughters of His quiver.

I have become a derision to all the people, and laughter and scorn for them

all the day. He hath filled me with bitterness and hath made me drunken

with wormwood. He hath broken my teeth by number; He hath fed me with

ashes. My soul is cast out from peace; I have forgotten good things. And I

said: “Mine end is frustrated and cut short, together with my desire and my

hope from the Lord. Remember my poverty and my excess, the wormwood

and the gall. I shall be mindful with remembrance and my soul shall be

undone within me in pains.”’ [127]

3. All these complaints Jeremias makes about these pains and trials, and by

means of them he most vividly depicts the sufferings of the soul in this

spiritual night and purgation. Wherefore the soul that God sets in this

tempestuous and horrible night is deserving of great compassion. For,

although it experiences much happiness by reason of the great blessings that

must arise on this account within it, when, as Job says, God raises up

profound blessings in the soul out of darkness, and brings up to light the

shadow of death, [128] so that, as David says, His light comes to be as was

His darkness; [129] yet notwithstanding, by reason of the dreadful pain

which the soul is suffering, and of the great uncertainty which it has

concerning the remedy for it, since it believes, as this prophet says here,

that its evil will never end, and it thinks, as David says likewise, that God

set it in dark places like those that are dead, [130] and for this reason

brought its spirit within it into anguish and troubled its heart, [131] it suffers

great pain and grief, since there is added to all this (because of the solitude

and abandonment caused in it by this dark night) the fact that it finds no

consolation or support in any instruction nor in a spiritual master. For,

although in many ways its director may show it good reason for being

comforted because of the blessings which are contained in these afflictions,

it cannot believe him. For it is so greatly absorbed and immersed in the

realization of those evils wherein it sees its own miseries so clearly, that it

thinks that, as its director observes not that which it sees and feels, he is

speaking in this manner because he understands it not; and so, instead of

comfort, it rather receives fresh affliction, since it believes that its director’s

advice contains no remedy for its troubles. And, in truth, this is so; for, until

the Lord shall have completely purged it after the manner that He wills, no

means or remedy is of any service or profit for the relief of its affliction; the

more so because the soul is as powerless in this case as one who has been

imprisoned in a dark dungeon, and is bound hand and foot, and can neither

move nor see, nor feel any favour whether from above or from below, until

the spirit is humbled, softened and purified, and grows so keen and delicate

and pure that it can become one with the Spirit of God, according to the

degree of union of love which His mercy is pleased to grant it; in proportion

to this the purgation is of greater or less severity and of greater or less

duration.

4. But, if it is to be really effectual, it will last for some years, however

severe it be; since the purgative process allows intervals of relief wherein,

by the dispensation of God, this dark contemplation ceases to assail the soul

in the form and manner of purgation, and assails it after an illuminative and

a loving manner, wherein the soul, like one that has gone forth from this

dungeon and imprisonment, and is brought into the recreation of

spaciousness and liberty, feels and experiences great sweetness of peace and

loving friendship with God, together with a ready abundance of spiritual

communication. This is to the soul a sign of the health which is being

wrought within it by the said purgation and a foretaste of the abundance for

which it hopes. Occasionally this is so great that the soul believes its trials

to be at last over. For spiritual things in the soul, when they are most purely

spiritual, have this characteristic that, if trials come to it, the soul believes

that it will never escape from them, and that all its blessings are now over,

as has been seen in the passages quoted; and, if spiritual blessings come, the

soul believes in the same way that its troubles are now over, and that

blessings will never fail it. This was so with David, when he found himself

in the midst of them, as he confesses in these words: ‘I said in my

abundance: “I shall never be moved.”’ [132]

5. This happens because the actual possession by the spirit of one of two

contrary things itself makes impossible the actual possession and realization

of the other contrary thing; this is not so, however, in the sensual part of the

soul, because its apprehension is weak. But, as the spirit is not yet

completely purged and cleansed from the affections that it has contracted

from its lower part, while changing not in so far as it is spirit, it can be

moved to further afflictions in so far as these affections sway it. In this way,

as we see, David was afterwards moved, and experienced many ills and

afflictions, although in the time of his abundance he had thought and said

that he would never be moved. Just so is it with the soul in this condition,

when it sees itself moved by that abundance of spiritual blessings, and,

being unable to see the root of the imperfection and impurity which still

remain within it, thinks that its trials are over.

6. This thought, however, comes to the soul but seldom, for, until spiritual

purification is complete and perfected, the sweet communication is very

rarely so abundant as to conceal from the soul the root which remains

hidden, in such a way that the soul can cease to feel that there is something

that it lacks within itself or that it has still to do. Thus it cannot completely

enjoy that relief, but feels as if one of its enemies were within it, and

although this enemy is, as it were, hushed and asleep, it fears that he will

come to life again and attack it. [133] And this is what indeed happens, for,

when the soul is most secure and least alert, it is dragged down and

immersed again in another and a worse degree of affliction which is severer

and darker and more grievous than that which is past; and this new

affliction will continue for a further period of time, perhaps longer than the

first. And the soul once more comes to believe that all its blessings are over

for ever. Although it had thought during its first trial that there were no

more afflictions which it could suffer, and yet, after the trial was over, it

enjoyed great blessings, this experience is not sufficient to take away its

belief, during this second degree of trial, that all is now over for it and that

it will never again be happy as in the past. For, as I say, this belief, of which

the soul is so sure, is caused in it by the actual apprehension of the spirit,

which annihilates within it all that is contrary to it.

7. This is the reason why those who lie in purgatory suffer great misgivings

as to whether they will ever go forth from it and whether their pains will

ever be over. For, although they have the habit of the three theological

virtues—faith, hope and charity—the present realization which they have of

their afflictions and of their deprivation of God allows them not to enjoy the

present blessing and consolation of these virtues. For, although they are able

to realize that they have a great love for God, this is no consolation to them,

since they cannot think that God loves them or that they are worthy that He

should do so; rather, as they see that they are deprived of Him, and left in

their own miseries, they think that there is that in themselves which

provides a very good reason why they should with perfect justice be

abhorred and cast out by God for ever. [134] And thus although the soul in

this purgation is conscious that it has a great love for God and would give a

thousand lives for Him (which is the truth, for in these trials such souls love

their God very earnestly), yet this is no relief to it, but rather brings it

greater affliction. For it loves Him so much that it cares about naught

beside; when, therefore, it sees itself to be so wretched that it cannot believe

that God loves it, nor that there is or will ever be reason why He should do

so, but rather that there is reason why it should be abhorred, not only by

Him, but by all creatures for ever, it is grieved to see in itself reasons for

deserving to be cast out by Him for Whom it has such great love and desire.

[126] Job xvi, 13-17 [A.V., xvi, 12-16].

[127] Lamentations iii, 1-20.

[128] Job xii, 22.

[129] Psalm cxxxviii, 12 [A.V., cxxxix, 12].

[130] [Lit., ‘like to the dead of the world (or of the age).’]

[131] Psalm cxlii, 3 [A.V., cxliii, 3-4].

[132] Psalm xxix, 7 [A.V., xxx, 6].

[133] [Lit., ‘and play his tricks upon it.’]

[134] B. Bz., C, H. Mtr. all have this long passage on the suffering of the

soul in Purgatory. It would be rash, therefore, to deny that St. John of the

Cross is its author, [or to suppose, as P. Gerardo did, that he deleted it

during a revision of his works]. An admirably constructed synthesis of these

questions will be found in B. Belarmino, De Purgatorio, Bk. II, chaps. iv,

v. He asks if souls in Purgatory are sure of their salvation. This was denied

by Luther, and by a number of Catholic writers, who held that, among the

afflictions of these souls, the greatest is this very uncertainty, some maintain

that, though they have in fact such certainty, they are unaware of it.

Belarmino quotes among other authorities Denis the Carthusian De quattuor

novissimis, Gerson (Lect. I De Vita Spirituali) and John of Rochester

(against Luther’s 32nd article); these writers claim that, as sin which is

venial is only so through the Divine mercy, it may with perfect justice be

rewarded by eternal punishment, and thus souls that have committed venial

sin cannot be confident of their salvation. He also shows, however, that the

common opinion of theologians is that the souls in Purgatory are sure of

their salvation, and considers various degrees of certainty, adding very truly

that, while these souls experience no fear, they experience hope, since they

have not yet the Beatific vision. Uncertainty as to their salvation, it is said,

might arise from ignorance of the sentence passed upon them by the Judge

or from the deadening of their faculties by the torments which they are

suffering. Belarmino refutes these and other suppositions with great force

and effect. St. John of the Cross seems to be referring to the last named

when he writes of the realization of their afflictions and their deprivation of

God not allowing them to enjoy the blessings of the theological virtues. It is

not surprising if the Saint, not having examined very closely this question,

of which he would have read treatments in various authors, thought of it

principally as an apt illustration of the purifying and refining effects of

passive purgation; and an apt illustration it certainly is.

CHAPTER VIII

Of other pains which afflict the soul in this state.

BUT there is another thing here that afflicts and distresses the soul greatly,

which is that, as this dark night has hindered its faculties and affections in

this way, it is unable to raise its affection or its mind to God, neither can it

pray to Him, thinking, as Jeremias thought concerning himself, that God

has set a cloud before it through which its prayer cannot pass. [135] For it is

this that is meant by that which is said in the passage referred to, namely: ’

He hath shut and enclosed my paths with square stones.’ [136] And if it

sometimes prays it does so with such lack of strength and of sweetness that

it thinks that God neither hears it nor pays heed to it, as this Prophet

likewise declares in the same passage, saying: ‘When I cry and entreat, He

hath shut out my prayer.’ [137] In truth this is no time for the soul to speak

with God; it should rather put its mouth in the dust, as Jeremias says, so that

perchance there may come to it some present hope, [138] and it may endure

its purgation with patience. It is God Who is passively working here in the

soul; wherefore the soul can do nothing. Hence it can neither pray nor pay

attention when it is present at the Divine offices, [139] much less can it

attend to other things and affairs which are temporal. Not only so, but it has

likewise such distractions and times of such profound forgetfulness of the

memory that frequent periods pass by without its knowing what it has been

doing or thinking, or what it is that it is doing or is going to do, neither can

it pay attention, although it desire to do so, to anything that occupies it.

2. Inasmuch as not only is the understanding here purged of its light, and

the will of its affections, but the memory is also purged of meditation and

knowledge, it is well that it be likewise annihilated with respect to all these

things, so that that which David says of himself in this purgation may by

fulfilled, namely: ’ I was annihilated and I knew not.’ [140] This

unknowing refers to these follies and forgetfulnesses of the memory, which

distractions and forgetfulnesses are caused by the interior recollection

wherein this contemplation absorbs the soul. For, in order that the soul may

be divinely prepared and tempered with its faculties for the Divine union of

love, it would be well for it to be first of all absorbed, with all its faculties,

in this Divine and dark spiritual light of contemplation, and thus to be

withdrawn from all the affections and apprehensions of the creatures, which

condition ordinarily continues in proportion to its intensity. And thus, the

simpler and the purer is this Divine light in its assault upon the soul, the

more does it darken it, void it and annihilate it according to its particular

apprehensions and affections, with regard both to things above and to things

below; and similarly, the less simple and pure is it in this assault, the less

deprivation it causes it and the less dark is it. Now this is a thing that seems

incredible, to say that, the brighter and purer is supernatural and Divine

light, the more it darkens the soul, and that, the less bright and pure is it, the

less dark it is to the soul. Yet this may readily be understood if we consider

what has been proved above by the dictum of the philosopher—namely, that

the brighter and the more manifest in themselves are supernatural things the

darker are they to our understanding.

3. And, to the end that this may be understood the more clearly, we shall

here set down a similitude referring to common and natural light. We

observe that a ray of sunlight which enters through the window is the less

clearly visible according as it is the purer and freer from specks, and the

more of such specks and motes there are in the air, the brighter is the light

to the eye. The reason is that it is not the light itself that is seen; the light is

but the means whereby the other things that it strikes are seen, and then it is

also seen itself, through its reflection in them; were it not for this, neither it

nor they would have been seen. Thus if the ray of sunlight entered through

the window of one room and passed out through another on the other side,

traversing the room, and if it met nothing on the way, or if there were no

specks in the air for it to strike, the room would have no more light than

before, neither would the ray of light be visible. In fact, if we consider it

carefully, there is more darkness where the ray is, since it absorbs and

obscures any other light, and yet it is itself invisible, because, as we have

said, there are no visible objects which it can strike.

4. Now this is precisely what this Divine ray of contemplation does in the

soul. Assailing it with its Divine light, it transcends the natural power of the

soul, and herein it darkens it and deprives it of all natural affections and

apprehensions which it apprehended aforetime by means of natural light;

and thus it leaves it not only dark, but likewise empty, according to its

faculties and desires, both spiritual and natural. And, by thus leaving it

empty and in darkness, it purges and illumines it with Divine spiritual light,

although the soul thinks not that it has this light, but believes itself to be in

darkness, even as we have said of the ray of light, which although it be in

the midst of the room, yet, if it be pure and meet nothing on its path, is not

visible. With regard, however, to this spiritual light by which the soul is

assailed, when it has something to strike—that is, when something spiritual

presents itself to be understood, however small a speck it be and whether of

perfection or imperfection, or whether it be a judgment of the falsehood or

the truth of a thing—it then sees and understands much more clearly than

before it was in these dark places. And exactly in the same way it discerns

the spiritual light which it has in order that it may readily discern the

imperfection which is presented to it; even as, when the ray of which we

have spoken, within the room, is dark and not itself visible, if one introduce

a hand or any other thing into its path, the hand is then seen and it is

realized that that sunlight is present.

5. Wherefore, since this spiritual light is so simple, pure and general, not

appropriated or restricted to any particular thing that can be understood,

whether natural or Divine (since with respect to all these apprehensions the

faculties of the soul are empty and annihilated), it follows that with great

comprehensiveness and readiness the soul discerns and penetrates

whatsoever thing presents itself to it, whether it come from above or from

below; for which cause the Apostle said: That the spiritual man searches all

things, even the deep things of God. [141] For by this general and simple

wisdom is understood that which the Holy Spirit says through the Wise

Man, namely: That it reaches wheresoever it wills by reason of its purity;

[142] that is to say, because it is not restricted to any particular object of the

intellect or affection. And this is the characteristic of the spirit that is purged

and annihilated with respect to all particular affections and objects of the

understanding, that in this state wherein it has pleasure in nothing and

understands nothing in particular, but dwells in its emptiness, darkness and

obscurity, it is fully prepared to embrace everything to the end that those

words of Saint Paul may be fulfilled in it: Nihil habentes, et omnia

possidentes. [143] For such poverty of spirit as this would deserve such

happiness.

[135] Lamentations iii, 44.

[136] [Lamentations iii, 9.]

[137] Lamentations iii, 9.

[138] Lamentations iii, 28.

[139] [Lit., ‘at the Divine things.’]

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

[141] 1 Corinthians ii, 10. [Lit., ‘penetrates all things.’]

[142] Wisdom vii, 24.

[143] 2 Corinthians vi, 10.

CHAPTER IX

How, although this night brings darkness to the spirit, it does so in order to

illumine it and give it light.

IT now remains to be said that, although this happy night brings darkness to

the spirit, it does so only to give it light in everything; and that, although it

humbles it and makes it miserable, it does so only to exalt it and to raise it

up; and, although it impoverishes it and empties it of all natural affection

and attachment, it does so only that it may enable it to stretch forward,

divinely, and thus to have fruition and experience of all things, both above

and below, yet to preserve its unrestricted liberty of spirit in them all. For

just as the elements, in order that they may have a part in all natural entities

and compounds, must have no particular colour, odour or taste, so as to be

able to combine with all tastes odours and colours, just so must the spirit be

simple, pure and detached from all kinds of natural affection, whether

actual or habitual, to the end that it may be able freely to share in the

breadth of spirit of the Divine Wisdom, wherein, through its purity, it has

experience of all the sweetness of all things in a certain pre-eminently

excellent way. [144] And without this purgation it will be wholly unable to

feel or experience the satisfaction of all this abundance of spiritual

sweetness. For one single affection remaining in the spirit, or one particular

thing to which, actually or habitually, it clings, suffices to hinder it from

feeling or experiencing or communicating the delicacy and intimate

sweetness of the spirit of love, which contains within itself all sweetness to

a most eminent degree. [145]

2. For, even as the children of Israel, solely because they retained one single

affection and remembrance—namely, with respect to the fleshpots and the

meals which they had tasted in Egypt [146] —could not relish the delicate

bread of angels, in the desert, which was the manna, which, as the Divine

Scripture says, held sweetness for every taste and turned to the taste that

each one desired; [147] even so the spirit cannot succeed in enjoying the

delights of the spirit of liberty, according to the desire of the will, if it be

still affectioned to any desire, whether actual or habitual, or to particular

objects of understanding, or to any other apprehension. The reason for this

is that the affections, feelings and apprehensions of the perfect spirit, being

Divine, are of another kind and of a very different order from those that are

natural. They are pre-eminent, so that, in order both actually and habitually

to possess the one, it is needful to expel and annihilate the other, as with

two contrary things, which cannot exist together in one person. Therefore it

is most fitting and necessary, if the soul is to pass to these great things, that

this dark night of contemplation should first of all annihilate and undo it in

its meannesses, bringing it into darkness, aridity, affliction and emptiness;

for the light which is to be given to it is a Divine light of the highest kind,

which transcends all natural light, and which by nature can find no place in

the understanding.

3. And thus it is fitting that, if the understanding is to be united with that

light and become Divine in the state of perfection, it should first of all be

purged and annihilated as to its natural light, and, by means of this dark

contemplation, be brought actually into darkness. This darkness should

continue for as long as is needful in order to expel and annihilate the habit

which the soul has long since formed in its manner of understanding, and

the Divine light and illumination will then take its place. And thus,

inasmuch as that power of understanding which it had aforetime is natural,

it follows that the darkness which it here suffers is profound and horrible

and most painful, for this darkness, being felt in the deepest substance of

the spirit, seems to be substantial darkness. Similarly, since the affection of

love which is to be given to it in the Divine union of love is Divine, and

therefore very spiritual, subtle and delicate, and very intimate, transcending

every affection and feeling of the will, and every desire thereof, it is fitting

that, in order that the will may be able to attain to this Divine affection and

most lofty delight, and to feel it and experience it through the union of love,

since it is not, in the way of nature, perceptible to the will, it be first of all

purged and annihilated in all its affections and feelings, and left in a

condition of aridity and constraint, proportionate to the habit of natural

affections which it had before, with respect both to Divine things and to

human. Thus, being exhausted, withered and thoroughly tried in the fire of

this dark contemplation, and having driven away every kind [148] of evil

spirit (as with the heart of the fish which Tobias set on the coals [149] ), it

may have a simple and pure disposition, and its palate may be purged and

healthy, so that it may feel the rare and sublime touches of Divine love,

wherein it will see itself divinely transformed, and all the contrarieties,

whether actual or habitual, which it had aforetime, will be expelled, as we

are saying.

4. Moreover, in order to attain the said union to which this dark night is

disposing and leading it, the soul must be filled and endowed with a certain

glorious magnificence in its communion with God, which includes within

itself innumerable blessings springing from delights which exceed all the

abundance that the soul can naturally possess. For by nature the soul is so

weak and impure that it cannot receive all this. As Isaias says: ‘Eye hath not

seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man, that which

God hath prepared, etc.’ [150] It is meet, then, that the soul be first of all

brought into emptiness and poverty of spirit and purged from all help,

consolation and natural apprehension with respect to all things, both above

and below. In this way, being empty, it is able indeed to be poor in spirit and

freed from the old man, in order to live that new and blessed life which is

attained by means of this night, and which is the state of union with God.

5. And because the soul is to attain to the possession of a sense, and of a

Divine knowledge, which is very generous and full of sweetness, with

respect to things Divine and human, which fall not within the common

experience and natural knowledge of the soul (because it looks on them

with eyes as different from those of the past as spirit is different from sense

and the Divine from the human), the spirit must be straitened [151] and

inured to hardships as regards its common and natural experience, and be

brought by means of this purgative contemplation into great anguish and

affliction, and the memory must be borne far from all agreeable and

peaceful knowledge, and have an intimated sense and feeling that it is

making a pilgrimage and being a stranger to all things, so that it seems to it

that all things are strange and of a different kind from that which they were

wont to be. For this night is gradually drawing the spirit away from its

ordinary and common experience of things and bringing it nearer the Divine

sense, which is a stranger and an alien to all human ways. It seems now to

the soul that it is going forth from its very self, with much affliction. At

other times it wonders if it is under a charm or a spell, and it goes about

marvelling at the things that it sees and hears, which seem to it very strange

and rare, though they are the same that it was accustomed to experience

aforetime. The reason of this is that the soul is now becoming alien and

remote from common sense and knowledge of things, in order that, being

annihilated in this respect, it may be informed with the Divine—which

belongs rather to the next life than to this.

6. The soul suffers all these afflictive purgations of the spirit to the end that

it may be begotten anew in spiritual life by means of this Divine inflowing,

and in these pangs may bring forth the spirit of salvation, that the saying of

Isaias may be fulfilled: ‘In Thy sight, O Lord, we have conceived, and we

have been as in the pangs of labour, and we have brought forth the spirit of

salvation.’ [152] Moreover, since by means of this contemplative night the

soul is prepared for the attainment of inward peace and tranquillity, which is

of such a kind and so delectable that, as the Scripture says, it passes all

understanding, [153] it behoves the soul to abandon all its former peace.

This was in reality no peace at all, since it was involved in imperfections;

but to the soul aforementioned it appeared to be so, because it was

following its own inclinations, which were for peace. It seemed, indeed, to

be a twofold peace—that is, the soul believed that it had already acquired

the peace of sense and that of spirit, for it found itself to be full of the

spiritual abundance of this peace of sense and of spirit—as I say, it is still

imperfect. First of all, then, it must be purged of that former peace and

disquieted concerning it and withdrawn from it. [154] Even so was Jeremias

when, in the passage which we quoted from him, he felt and lamented [155]

thus, in order to express the calamities of this night that is past, saying: ‘My

soul is withdrawn and removed from peace.’ [156]

7. This is a painful disturbance, involving many misgivings, imaginings,

and strivings which the soul has within itself, wherein, with the

apprehension and realization of the miseries in which it sees itself, it fancies

that it is lost and that its blessings have gone for ever. Wherefore the spirit

experiences pain and sighing so deep that they cause it vehement spiritual

groans and cries, to which at times it gives vocal expression; when it has the

necessary strength and power it dissolves into tears, although this relief

comes but seldom. David describes this very aptly, in a Psalm, as one who

has had experience of it, where he says: ‘I was exceedingly afflicted and

humbled; I roared with the groaning of my heart.’ [157] This roaring

implies great pain; for at times, with the sudden and acute remembrance of

these miseries wherein the soul sees itself, pain and affliction rise up and

surround it, and I know not how the affections of the soul could be

described [158] save in the similitude of holy Job, when he was in the same

trials, and uttered these words: ‘Even as the overflowing of the waters, even

so is my roaring.’ [159] For just as at times the waters make such

inundations that they overwhelm and fill everything, so at times this roaring

and this affliction of the soul grow to such an extent that they overwhelm it

and penetrate it completely, filling it with spiritual pain and anguish in all

its deep affections and energies, to an extent surpassing all possibility of

exaggeration.

8. Such is the work wrought in the soul by this night that hides the hopes of

the light of day. With regard to this the prophet Job says likewise: ‘In the

night my mouth is pierced with sorrows and they that feed upon me sleep

not.’ [160] Now here by the mouth is understood the will, which is

transpierced with these pains that tear the soul to pieces, neither ceasing nor

sleeping, for the doubts and misgivings which transpierce the soul in this

way never cease.

9. Deep is this warfare and this striving, for the peace which the soul hopes

for will be very deep; and the spiritual pain is intimate and delicate, for the

love which it will possess will likewise be very intimate and refined. The

more intimate and the more perfect the finished work is to be and to remain,

the more intimate, perfect and pure must be the labour; the firmer the

edifice, the harder the labour. Wherefore, as Job says, the soul is fading

within itself, and its vitals are being consumed without any hope. [161]

Similarly, because in the state of perfection toward which it journeys by

means of this purgative night the soul will attain to the possession and

fruition of innumerable blessings, of gifts and virtues, both according to the

substance of the soul and likewise according to its faculties, it must needs

see and feel itself withdrawn from them all and deprived of them all and be

empty and poor without them; and it must needs believe itself to be so far

from them that it cannot persuade itself that it will ever reach them, but

rather it must be convinced that all its good things are over. The words of

Jeremias have a similar meaning in that passage already quoted, where he

says: ‘I have forgotten good things.’ [162]

10. But let us now see the reason why this light of contemplation, which is

so sweet and blessed to the soul that there is naught more desirable (for, as

has been said above, it is the same wherewith the soul must be united and

wherein it must find all the good things in the state of perfection that it

desires), produces, when it assails the soul, these beginnings which are so

painful and these effects which are so disagreeable, as we have here said.

1l. This question is easy for us to answer, by explaining, as we have already

done in part, that the cause of this is that, in contemplation and the Divine

inflowing, there is naught that of itself can cause affliction, but that they

rather cause great sweetness and delight, as we shall say hereafter. The

cause is rather the weakness and imperfection from which the soul then

suffers, and the dispositions which it has in itself and which make it unfit

for the reception of them. Wherefore, when the said Divine light assails the

soul, it must needs cause it to suffer after the manner aforesaid.

[144] [Lit., ‘with a certain eminence of excellence.’]

[145] [Lit., ‘. . . sweetness, with great eminence.’]

[146] Exodus xvi, 3.

[147] Wisdom xvi, 21.

[148] [Lit., ‘from every kind.’ But see Tobias viii, 2. The ‘deprived’ of

e. p. gives the best reading of this phrase, but the general sense is clear from

the Scriptural reference.

[149] Tobias viii, 2.

[150] Isaias lxiv, 4 [1 Corinthians ii, 9].

[151] [Lit., ‘be made thin.’]

[152] Isaias xxvi, 17-18.

[153] [Philippians iv, 7.]

[154] [We have here split up a parenthesis of about seventy words.]

[155] [Lit., ‘and wept.’]

[156] Lamentations iii, 17.

[157] Psalm xxxvii, 9 [A.V., xxxviii, 8].

[158] [Lit., ‘. . . sees itself, it arises and is surrounded with pain and

affliction the affections of the soul, that I know not how it could be

described.’ A confused, ungrammatical sentence, of which, however, the

general meaning is not doubtful.

[159] Job iii, 24.

[160] Job xxx, 17.

[161] Job xxx, 16.

[162] Lamentations iii, 17.

CHAPTER X

Explains this purgation fully by a comparison.

FOR the greater clearness of what has been said, and of what has still to be

said, it is well to observe at this point that this purgative and loving

knowledge or Divine light whereof we here speak acts upon the soul which

it is purging and preparing for perfect union with it in the same way as fire

acts upon a log of wood in order to transform it into itself; for material fire,

acting upon wood, first of all begins to dry it, by driving out its moisture

and causing it to shed the water which it contains within itself. Then it

begins to make it black, dark and unsightly, and even to give forth a bad

odour, and, as it dries it little by little, it brings out and drives away all the

dark and unsightly accidents which are contrary to the nature of fire. And,

finally, it begins to kindle it externally and give it heat, and at last

transforms it into itself and makes it as beautiful as fire. In this respect, the

wood has neither passivity nor activity of its own, save for its weight, which

is greater, and its substance, which is denser, than that of fire, for it has in

itself the properties and activities of fire. Thus it is dry and it dries; it is hot

and heats; it is bright and gives brightness; and it is much less heavy than

before. All these properties and effects are caused in it by the fire.

2. In this same way we have to philosophize with respect to this Divine fire

of contemplative love, which, before it unites and transforms the soul in

itself, first purges it of all its contrary accidents. It drives out its

unsightliness, and makes it black and dark, so that it seems worse than

before and more unsightly and abominable than it was wont to be. For this

Divine purgation is removing all the evil and vicious humours which the

soul has never perceived because they have been so deeply rooted and

grounded in it; it has never realized, in fact, that it has had so much evil

within itself. But now that they are to be driven forth and annihilated, these

humours reveal themselves, and become visible to the soul because it is so

brightly illumined by this dark light of Divine contemplation (although it is

no worse than before, either in itself or in relation to God); and, as it sees in

itself that which it saw not before, it is clear to it that not only is it unfit to

be seen by God, but deserves His abhorrence, and that He does indeed

abhor it. By this comparison we can now understand many things

concerning what we are saying and purpose to say.

3. First, we can understand how the very light and the loving wisdom which

are to be united with the soul and to transform it are the same that at the

beginning purge and prepare it: even as the very fire which transforms the

log of wood into itself, and makes it part of itself, is that which at the first

was preparing it for that same purpose.

4. Secondly, we shall be able to see how these afflictions are not felt by the

soul as coming from the said Wisdom, since, as the Wise Man says, all

good things together come to the soul with her. [163] They are felt as

coming from the weakness and imperfection which belong to the soul;

without such purgation, the soul cannot receive its Divine light, sweetness

and delight, even as the log of wood, when the fire acts upon it, cannot

immediately be transformed until it be made ready; wherefore the soul is

greatly afflicted. This statement is fully supported by the Preacher, where he

describes all that he suffered in order that he might attain to union with

wisdom and to the fruition of it, saying thus: ‘My soul hath wrestled with

her and my bowels were moved in acquiring her; therefore it shall possess a

good possession.’ [164]

5. Thirdly, we can learn here incidentally in what manner souls are afflicted

in purgatory. For the fire would have no power over them, even though they

came into contact with it, if they had no imperfections for which to suffers.

These are the material upon which the fire of purgatory seizes; when that

material is consumed there is naught else that can burn. So here, when the

imperfections are consumed, the affliction of the soul ceases and its fruition

remains.

6. The fourth thing that we shall learn here is the manner wherein the soul,

as it becomes purged and purified by means of this fire of love, becomes

ever more enkindled in love, just as the wood grows hotter in proportion as

it becomes the better prepared by the fire. This enkindling of love, however,

is not always felt by the soul, but only at times when contemplation assails

it less vehemently, for then it has occasion to see, and even to enjoy, the

work which is being wrought in it, and which is then revealed to it. For it

seems that the worker takes his hand from the work, and draws the iron out

of the furnace, in order that something of the work which is being done may

be seen; and then there is occasion for the soul to observe in itself the good

which it saw not while the work was going on. In the same way, when the

flame ceases to attack the wood, it is possible to see how much of it has

been enkindled.

7. Fifthly, we shall also learn from this comparison what has been said

above—namely, how true it is that after each of these periods of relief the

soul suffers once again, more intensely and keenly than before. For, after

that revelation just referred to has been made, and after the more outward

imperfections of the soul have been purified, the fire of love once again

attacks that which has yet to be consumed and purified more inwardly. The

suffering of the soul now becomes more intimate, subtle and spiritual, in

proportion as the fire refines away the finer, [165] more intimate and more

spiritual imperfections, and those which are most deeply rooted in its

inmost parts. And it is here just as with the wood, upon which the fire,

when it begins to penetrate it more deeply, acts with more force and

vehemence [166] in preparing its most inward part to possess it.

8. Sixthly, we shall likewise learn here the reason why it seems to the soul

that all its good is over, and that it is full of evil, since naught comes to it at

this time but bitterness; it is like the burning wood, which is touched by no

air nor by aught else than by consuming fire. But, when there occur other

periods of relief like the first, the rejoicing of the soul will be more interior

because the purification has been more interior also.

9. Seventhly, we shall learn that, although the soul has the most ample joy

at these periods (so much so that, as we said, it sometimes thinks that its

trials can never return again, although it is certain that they will return

quickly), it cannot fail to realize, if it is aware (and at times it is made

aware) of a root of imperfection which remains, that its joy is incomplete,

because a new assault seems to be threatening it; [167] when this is so, the

trial returns quickly. Finally, that which still remains to be purged and

enlightened most inwardly cannot well be concealed from the soul in view

of its experience of its former purification; [168] even as also in the wood it

is the most inward part that remains longest unkindled, [169] and the

difference between it and that which has already been purged is clearly

perceptible; and, when this purification once more assails it most inwardly,

it is no wonder if it seems to the soul once more that all its good is gone,

and that it never expects to experience it again, for, now that it has been

plunged into these most inward sufferings, all good coming from without is

over. [170]

10. Keeping this comparison, then, before our eyes, together with what has

already been said upon the first line of the first stanza concerning this dark

night and its terrible properties, it will be well to leave these sad

experiences of the soul and to begin to speak of the fruit of its tears and

their blessed properties, whereof the soul begins to sing from this second

line: Kindled in love [171] with yearnings,

[163] Wisdom vii, 11.

[164] Ecclesiasticus li, 28-9 [A.V., li, 19-21].

[165] [Lit., ‘more delicate.’]

[166] [Lit., ‘fury.’]

[167] [The sudden change of metaphor is the author’s. The ‘assault’ is, of

course, the renewed growth of the ‘root.’

[168] [Lit., ‘. . . from the soul, with regard to that which has already been

purified.’

[169] [Lit., ‘not enlightened’: the word is the same as that used just above.

[170] [The word translated ‘over’ is rendered ‘gone’ just above.]

[171] [Lit., ‘in loves’; and so throughout the exposition of this line.]

CHAPTER XI

Begins to explain the second line of the first stanza. Describes how, as the

fruit of these rigorous constraints, the soul finds itself with the vehement

passion of Divine love.

IN this line the soul describes the fire of love which, as we have said, like

the material fire acting upon the wood, begins to take hold upon the soul in

this night of painful contemplation. This enkindling now described,

although in a certain way it resembles that which we described above as

coming to pass in the sensual part of the soul, is in some ways as different

from that other as is the soul from the body, or the spiritual part from the

sensual. For this present kind is an enkindling of spiritual love in the soul,

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

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

foretaste of God, although it understands nothing definitely, for, as we say,

the understanding is in darkness.

2. The spirit feels itself here to be deeply and passionately in love, for this

spiritual enkindling produces the passion of love. And, inasmuch as this

love is infused, it is passive rather than active, and thus it begets in the soul

a strong passion of love. This love has in it something of union with God,

and thus to some degree partakes of its properties, which are actions of God

rather than of the soul, these being subdued within it passively. What the

soul does here is to give its consent; the warmth and strength and temper

and passion of love—or enkindling, as the soul here calls it—belong [172]

only to the love of God, which enters increasingly into union with it. This

love finds in the soul more occasion and preparation to unite itself with it

and to wound it, according as all the soul’s desires are the more recollected,

[173] and are the more withdrawn from and disabled for the enjoyment of

aught either in Heaven or in earth.

3. This takes place to a great extent, as has already been said, in this dark

purgation, for God has so weaned all the inclinations and caused them to be

so recollected [174] that they cannot find pleasure in anything they may

wish. All this is done by God to the end that, when He withdraws them and

recollects them in Himself, the soul may have more strength and fitness to

receive this strong union of love of God, which He is now beginning to give

it through this purgative way, wherein the soul must love with great strength

and with all its desires and powers both of spirit and of sense; which could

not be if they were dispersed in the enjoyment of aught else. For this reason

David said to God, to the end that he might receive the strength of the love

of this union with God: ‘I will keep my strength for Thee;’ [175] that is, I

will keep the entire capacity and all the desires and energies of my faculties,

nor will I employ their operation or pleasure in aught else than Thyself.

4. In this way it can be realized in some measure how great and how strong

may be this enkindling of love in the spirit, wherein God keeps in

recollection all the energies, faculties and desires of the soul, both of spirit

and of sense, so that all this harmony may employ its energies and virtues in

this love, and may thus attain to a true fulfilment of the first commandment,

which sets aside nothing pertaining to man nor excludes from this love

anything that is his, but says: ‘Thou shalt love thy God with all thy heart

and with all thy mind, with all thy soul and with all thy strength.’ [176]

5. When all the desires and energies of the soul, then, have been recollected

in this enkindling of love, and when the soul itself has been touched and

wounded in them all, and has been inspired with passion, what shall we

understand the movements and digressions of all these energies and desires

to be, if they find themselves enkindled and wounded with strong love and

without the possession and satisfaction thereof, in darkness and doubt?

They will doubtless be suffering hunger, like the dogs of which David

speaks as running about the city [177] ; finding no satisfaction in this love,

they keep howling and groaning. For the touch of this love and Divine fire

dries up the spirit and enkindles its desires, in order to satisfy its thirst for

this Divine love, so much so that it turns upon itself a thousand times and

desires God in a thousand ways and manners, with the eagerness and desire

of the appetite. This is very well explained by David in a psalm, where he

says: ‘My soul thirsted for Thee: in how many manners does my soul long

for Thee!’ [178] —that is, in desires. And another version reads: ‘My soul

thirsted for Thee, my soul is lost (or perishes) for Thee.’

6. It is for this reason that the soul says in this line that it was ‘kindled in

love with yearnings.’ [179] For in all the things and thoughts that it

revolves within itself, and in all the affairs and matters that present

themselves to it, it loves in many ways, and also desires and suffers in the

desire in many ways, at all times and in all places, finding rest in naught,

and feeling this yearning in its enkindled wound, even as the prophet Job

declares, saying: ‘As the hart [180] desireth the shadow, and as the hireling

desireth the end of his work, so I also had vain months and numbered to

myself wearisome and laborious nights. If I lie down to sleep, I shall say:

“When shall I arise?” And then I shall await the evening and shall be full of

sorrows even until the darkness of night.’ [181] Everything becomes

cramping to this soul: it cannot live [182] within itself; it cannot live either

in Heaven or on earth; and it is filled with griefs until the darkness comes to

which Job here refers, speaking spiritually and in the sense of our

interpretation. What the soul here endures is afflictions and suffering

without the consolation of a certain hope of any light and spiritual good.

Wherefore the yearning and the grief of this soul in this enkindling of love

are greater because it is multiplied in two ways: first, by the spiritual

darkness wherein it finds itself, which afflicts it with its doubts and

misgivings; and then by the love of God, which enkindles and stimulates it,

and, with its loving wound, causes it a wondrous fear. These two kinds of

suffering at such a season are well described by Isaias, where he says: ‘My

soul desired Thee in the night’ [183] —that is, in misery.

7. This is one kind of suffering which proceeds from this dark night; but, he

goes on to say, with my spirit, in my bowels, until the morning, I will watch

for Thee. And this is the second way of grieving in desire and yearning

which comes from love in the bowels of the spirit, which are the spiritual

affections. But in the midst of these dark and loving afflictions the soul

feels within itself a certain companionship and strength, which bears it

company and so greatly strengthens it that, if this burden of grievous

darkness be taken away, it often feels itself to be alone, empty and weak.

The cause of this is that, as the strength and efficacy of the soul were

derived and communicated passively from the dark fire of love which

assailed it, it follows that, when that fire ceases to assail it, the darkness and

power and heat of love cease in the soul.

[172] [Lit., ‘cling,’ ‘adhere.’]

[173] [Lit., ’shut up.’]

[174] [Here, and below, the original has recogidos, the word normally

translated ‘recollected’

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

[176] Deuteronomy vi, 5.

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

[178] Psalm lxii, 2 [A.V., lxiii, 1].

[179] [Lit., as in the verses, ‘in loves.’]

[180] [For cievro, hart, read siervo, servant, and we have the correct

quotation from Scripture. The change, however, was evidently made by the

Saint knowingly. In P. Gerardo’s edition, the Latin text, with cervus,

precedes the Spanish translation, with ciervo.

[181] Job vii, 2-4.

[182] [No cabe: Lit., ‘it cannot be contained,’ ‘there is no room for it.’]

[183] Isaias xxvi, 9.

CHAPTER XII

Shows how this horrible night is purgatory, and how in it the Divine

wisdom illumines men on earth with the same illumination that purges and

illumines the angels in Heaven.

FROM what has been said we shall be able to see how this dark night of

loving fire, as it purges in the darkness, so also in the darkness enkindles the

soul. We shall likewise be able to see that, even as spirits are purged in the

next life with dark material fire, so in this life they are purged and cleansed

with the dark spiritual fire of love. The difference is that in the next life they

are cleansed with fire, while here below they are cleansed and illumined

with love only. It was this love that David entreated, when he said: Cor

mundum crea in me, Deus, etc. [184] For cleanness of heart is nothing less

than the love and grace of God. For the clean of heart are called by our

Saviour ‘blessed’; which is as if He had called them ‘enkindled with love’,

[185] since blessedness is given by nothing less than love.

2. And Jeremias well shows how the soul is purged when it is illumined

with this fire of loving wisdom (for God never grants mystical wisdom

without love, since love itself infuses it), where he says: ‘He hath sent fire

into my bones, and hath taught me.’ [186] And David says that the wisdom

of God is silver tried in fire [187] —that is, in purgative fire of love. For

this dark contemplation infuses into the soul love and wisdom jointly, to

each one according to his capacity and need, enlightening the soul and

purging it, in the words of the Wise Man, from its ignorances, as he said

was done to himself.

3. From this we shall also infer that the very wisdom of God which purges

these souls and illumines them purges the angels from their ignorances,

giving them knowledge, enlightening them as to that which they knew not,

and flowing down from God through the first hierarchies even to the last,

and thence to men. [188] All the works, therefore, which are done by the

angels, and all their inspirations, are said in the Scriptures, with truth and

propriety, to be the work of God and of themselves; for ordinarily these

inspirations come through the angels, and they receive them likewise one

from another without any delay—as quickly as a ray of sunshine is

communicated through many windows arranged in order. For although it is

true that the sun’s ray itself passes through them all, still each one passes it

on and infuses it into the next, in a modified form, according to the nature

of the glass, and with rather more or rather less power and brightness,

according as it is nearer to the sun or farther from it.

4. Hence it follows that, the nearer to God are the higher spirits and the

lower, the more completely are they purged and enlightened with more

general purification; and that the lowest of them will receive this

illumination very much less powerfully and more remotely. Hence it

follows that man, who is the lowest of all those to whom this loving

contemplation flows down continually from God, will, when God desires to

give it him, receive it perforce after his own manner in a very limited way

and with great pain. For, when the light of God illumines an angel, it

enlightens him and enkindles [189] him in love, since, being pure spirit, he

is prepared for that infusion. But, when it illumines man, who is impure and

weak, it illumines him, as has been said above, according to his nature. It

plunges him into darkness and causes him affliction and distress, as does

the sun to the eye that is weak; [190] it enkindles him with passionate yet

afflictive love, until he be spiritualized and refined by this same fire of love;

and it purifies him until he can receive with sweetness the union of this

loving infusion after the manner of the angels, being now purged, as by the

help of the Lord we shall explain later. But meanwhile he receives this

contemplation and loving knowledge in the constraint and yearning of love

of which we are here speaking.

5. This enkindling and yearning of love are not always perceived by the

soul. For in the beginning, when this spiritual purgation commences, all this

Divine fire is used in drying up and making ready the wood (which is the

soul) rather than in giving it heat. But, as time goes on, the fire begins to

give heat to the soul, and the soul then very commonly feels this enkindling

and heat of love. Further, as the understanding is being more and more

purged by means of this darkness, it sometimes comes to pass that this

mystical and loving theology, as well as enkindling the will, strikes and

illumines the other faculty also—that of the understanding—with a certain

Divine light and knowledge, so delectably and delicately that it aids the will

to conceive a marvellous fervour, and, without any action of its own, there

burns in it this Divine fire of love, in living flames, so that it now appears to

the soul a living fire by reason of the living understanding which is given to

it. It is of this that David speaks in a Psalm, saying: ‘My heart grew hot

within me, and, as I meditated, a certain fire was enkindled.’ [191]

6. This enkindling of love, which accompanies the union of these two

faculties, the understanding and the will, which are here united, is for the

soul a thing of great richness and delight; for it is a certain touch of the

Divinity and is already the beginning [192] of the perfection of the union of

love for which it hopes. Now the soul attains not to this touch of so sublime

a sense and love of God, save when it has passed through many trials and a

great part of its purgation. But for other touches which are much lower than

these, and which are of ordinary occurrence, so much purgation is not

needful.

7. From what we have said it may here be inferred how in these spiritual

blessings, which are passively infused by God into the soul, the will may

very well love even though the understanding understand not; and similarly

the understanding may understand and the will love not. For, since this dark

night of contemplation consists of Divine light and love, just as fire

contains light and heat, it is not unbefitting that, when this loving light is

communicated, it should strike the will at times more effectively by

enkindling it with love and leaving the understanding in darkness instead of

striking it with light; and, at other times, by enlightening it with light, and

giving it understanding, but leaving the will in aridity (as it is also true that

the heat of the fire can be received without the light being seen, and also the

light of it can be seen without the reception of heat); and this is wrought by

the Lord, Who infuses as He wills. [193]

[184] Psalm l, 12 [A.V., li, 10].

[185] [Lit., ‘enamoured.’]

[186] Lamentations i, 13.

[187] Psalm xi, 7 [A.V., xii, 6].

[188] The Schoolmen frequently assert that the lower angels are purged and

illumined by the higher. Cf. St. Thomas, Summa, I, q. 106, a. 1, ad. 1.

[189] [Lit., ‘and softens.’]

[190] [More literally, ‘is sick.’]

[191] Psalm xxxviii, 4 [A.V., xxxix, 3].

[192] [Lit., ‘the beginnings.’]

[193] The Saint here treats a question often debated by philosophers and

mystics—that of love and knowledge. Cf. also Spiritual Canticle, Stanza

XVII, and Living Flame, Stanza III. Philosophers generally maintain that it

is impossible to love without knowledge, and equally so to love more of an

object than what is known of it. Mystics have, however, their own solutions

of the philosophers’ difficulty and the speculative Spanish mystics have

much to say on the matter. (Cf., for example, the Médula Mistica, Trat. V,

Chap. iv, and the Escuela de Oración, Trat. XII, Duda v.

CHAPTER XIII

Of other delectable effects which are wrought in the soul by this dark night

of contemplation.

THIS type of enkindling will explain to us certain of the delectable effects

which this dark night of contemplation works in the soul. For at certain

times, as we have just said, the soul becomes enlightened in the midst of all

this darkness, and the light shines in the darkness; [194] this mystical

intelligence flows down into the understanding and the will remains in

dryness—I mean, without actual union of love, with a serenity and

simplicity which are so delicate and delectable to the sense of the soul that

no name can be given to them. Thus the presence of God is felt, now after

one manner, now after another.

2. Sometimes, too, as has been said, it wounds the will at the same time,

and enkindles love sublimely, tenderly and strongly; for we have already

said that at certain times these two faculties, the understanding and the will,

are united, when, the more they see, the more perfect and delicate is the

purgation of the understanding. But, before this state is reached, it is more

usual for the touch of the enkindling of love to be felt in the will than for

the touch of intelligence to be felt in the understanding.

3. But one question arises here, which is this: Why, since these two faculties

are being purged together, are the enkindling and the love of purgative

contemplation at first more commonly felt in the will than the intelligence

thereof is felt in the understanding? To this it may be answered that this

passive love does not now directly strike the will, for the will is free, and

this enkindling of love is a passion of love rather than the free act of the

will; for this heat of love strikes the substance of the soul and thus moves

the affections passively. And so this is called passion of love rather than a

free act of the will, an act of the will being so called only in so far as it is

free. But these passions and affections subdue the will, and therefore it is

said that, if the soul conceives passion with a certain affection, the will

conceives passion; and this is indeed so, for in this manner the will is taken

captive and loses its liberty, according as the impetus and power of its

passion carry it away. And therefore we can say that this enkindling of love

is in the will—that is, it enkindles the desire of the will; and thus, as we say,

this is called passion of love rather than the free work of the will. And,

because the receptive passion of the understanding can receive intelligence

only in a detached and passive way (and this is impossible without its

having been purged), therefore until this happens the soul feels the touch of

intelligence less frequently than that of the passion of love. For it is not

necessary to this end that the will should be so completely purged with

respect to the passions, since these very passions help it to feel impassioned

love.

4. This enkindling and thirst of love, which in this case belongs to the spirit,

is very different from that other which we described in writing of the night

of sense. For, though the sense has also its part here, since it fails not to

participate in the labour of the spirit, yet the source and the keenness of the

thirst of love is felt in the superior part of the soul—that is, in the spirit. It

feels, and understands what it feels and its lack of what it desires, in such a

way that all its affliction of sense, although greater without comparison than

in the first night of sense, is as naught to it, because it recognizes within

itself the lack of a great good which can in no way be measured.

5. But here we must note that although, at the beginning, when this spiritual

night commences, this enkindling of love is not felt, because this fire of

love has not begun to take a hold, God gives the soul, in place of it, an

estimative love of Himself so great that, as we have said, the greatest

sufferings and trials of which it is conscious in this night are the anguished

thoughts that it [195] has lost God and the fears that He has abandoned it.

And thus we may always say that from the very beginning of this night the

soul is touched with yearnings of love, which is now that of estimation,

[196] and now again, that of enkindling. And it is evident that the greatest

suffering which it feels in these trials is this misgiving; for, if it could be

certified at that time that all is not lost and over, but that what is happening

to it is for the best—as it is—and that God is not wroth, it would care

naught for all these afflictions, but would rejoice to know that God is

making use of them for His good pleasure. For the love of estimation which

it has for God is so great, even though it may not realize this and may be in

darkness, that it would be glad, not only to suffer in this way, but even to

die many times over in order to give Him satisfaction. But when once the

flame has enkindled the soul, it is wont to conceive, together with the

estimation that it already has for God, such power and energy, and such

yearning for Him, when He communicates to it the heat of love, that, with

great boldness, it disregards everything and ceases to pay respect to

anything, such are the power and the inebriation of love and desire. It

regards not what it does, for it would do strange and unusual things in

whatever way and manner may present themselves, if thereby its soul might

find Him Whom it loves.

6. It was for this reason that Mary Magdalene, though as greatly concerned

for her own appearance as she was aforetime, took no heed of the multitude

of men who were at the feast, whether they were of little or of great

importance; neither did she consider that it was not seemly, and that it

looked ill, to go and weep and shed tears among the guests provided that,

without delaying an hour or waiting for another time and season, she could

reach Him for love of Whom her soul was already wounded and enkindled.

And such is the inebriating power and the boldness of love, that, though she

knew her Beloved to be enclosed in the sepulchre by the great sealed stone,

and surrounded by soldiers who were guarding Him lest His disciples

should steal Him away, [197] she allowed none of these things to impede

her, but went before daybreak with the ointments to anoint Him.

7. And finally, this inebriating power and yearning of love caused her to ask

one whom she believed to be a gardener and to have stolen Him away from

the sepulchre, to tell her, if he had taken Him, where he had laid Him, that

she might take Him away; [198] considering not that such a question,

according to independent judgment and reason, was foolish; for it was

evident that, if the other had stolen Him, he would not say so, still less

would he allow Him to be taken away. It is a characteristic of the power and

vehemence of love that all things seem possible to it, and it believes all men

to be of the same mind as itself. For it thinks that there is naught wherein

one may be employed, or which one may seek, save that which it seeks

itself and that which it loves; and it believes that there is naught else to be

desired, and naught wherein it may be employed, save that one thing, which

is pursued by all. For this reason, when the Bride went out to seek her

Beloved, through streets and squares, [199] thinking that all others were

doing the same, she begged them that, if they found Him, they would speak

to Him and say that she was pining for love of Him. [200] Such was the

power of the love of this Mary that she thought that, if the gardener would

tell her where he had hidden Him, she would go and take Him away,

however difficult it might be made for her.

8. Of this manner, then, are the yearnings of love whereof this soul becomes

conscious when it has made some progress in this spiritual purgation. For it

rises up by night (that is, in this purgative darkness) according to the

affections of the will. And with the yearnings and vehemence of the lioness

or the she-bear going to seek her cubs when they have been taken away

from her and she finds them not, does this wounded soul go forth to seek its

God. For, being in darkness, it feels itself to be without Him and to be dying

of love for Him. And this is that impatient love wherein the soul cannot

long subsist without gaining its desire or dying. Such was Rachel’s desire

for children when she said to Jacob: ‘Give me children, else shall I die.’

[201]

9. But we have now to see how it is that the soul which feels itself so

miserable and so unworthy of God, here in this purgative darkness, has

nevertheless strength, and is sufficiently bold and daring, to journey

towards union with God. The reason is that, as love continually gives it

strength wherewith it may love indeed, and as the property of love is to

desire to be united, joined and made equal and like to the object of its love,

that it may perfect itself in love’s good things, hence it comes to pass that,

when this soul is not perfected in love, through not having as yet attained to

union, the hunger and thirst that it has for that which it lacks (which is

union) and the strength set by love in the will which has caused it to

become impassioned, make it bold and daring by reason of the enkindling

of its will, although in its understanding, which is still dark and

unenlightened, it feels itself to be unworthy and knows itself to be

miserable.

10. I will not here omit to mention the reason why this Divine light, which

is always light to the soul, illumines it not as soon as it strikes it, as it does

afterwards, but causes it the darkness and the trials of which we have

spoken. Something has already been said concerning this, but the question

must now be answered directly. The darkness and the other evils of which

the soul is conscious when this Divine light strikes it are not darkness or

evils caused by this light, but pertain to the soul itself, and the light

illumines it so that it may see them. Wherefore it does indeed receive light

from this Divine light; but the soul cannot see at first, by its aid, anything

beyond what is nearest to it, or rather, beyond what is within it—namely, its

darknesses or its miseries, which it now sees through the mercy of God, and

saw not aforetime, because this supernatural light illumined it not. And this

is the reason why at first it is conscious of nothing beyond darkness and

evil; after it has been purged, however, by means of the knowledge and

realization of these, it will have eyes to see, by the guidance of this light,

the blessings of the Divine light; and, once all these darknesses and

imperfections have been driven out from the soul, it seems that the benefits

and the great blessings which the soul is gaining in this blessed night of

contemplation become clearer.

11. From what has been said, it is clear that God grants the soul in this state

the favour of purging it and healing it with this strong lye of bitter

purgation, according to its spiritual and its sensual part, of all the imperfect

habits and affections which it had within itself with respect to temporal

things and to natural, sensual and spiritual things, its inward faculties being

darkened, and voided of all these, its spiritual and sensual affections being

constrained and dried up, and its natural energies being attenuated and

weakened with respect to all this (a condition which it could never attain of

itself, as we shall shortly say). In this way God makes it to die to all that is

not naturally God, so that, once it is stripped and denuded of its former skin,

He may begin to clothe it anew. And thus its youth is renewed like the

eagle’s and it is clothed with the new man, which, as the Apostle says, is

created according to God. [202] This is naught else but His illumination of

the understanding with supernatural light, so that it is no more a human

understanding but becomes Divine through union with the Divine. In the

same way the will is informed with Divine love, so that it is a will that is

now no less than Divine, nor does it love otherwise than divinely, for it is

made and united in one with the Divine will and love. So, too, is it with the

memory; and likewise the affections and desires are all changed and

converted divinely, according to God. And thus this soul will now be a soul

of heaven, heavenly, and more Divine than human. All this, as we have

been saying, and because of what we have said, God continues to do and to

work in the soul by means of this night, illumining and enkindling it

divinely with yearnings for God alone and for naught else whatsoever. For

which cause the soul then very justly and reasonably adds the third line to

the song, which says: . . . oh, happy chance!— I went forth without being

observed.

[194] St. John i, 5.

[195] [Lit., ‘the yearning to think of it.’]

[196] [The word translated ‘estimation’ might also be rendered ’ reverent

love.’ The ‘love of estimation,’ which has its seat in the understanding, is

contrasted with the ‘enkindling’ or the ‘love of desire,’ which has its seat in

the will. So elsewhere in this paragraph.

[197] St. John xx, 1 [St. Matthew xxvii, 62-6].

[198] St. John xx, 15.

[199] [Lit., ‘outskirts,’ ’suburbs.’]

[200] Canticles v, 8.

[201] Genesis xxx, 1.

[202] Ephesians iv, 4.

CHAPTER XIV

Wherein are set down and explained the last three lines of the first stanza.

THIS happy chance was the reason for which the soul speaks, in the next

lines, as follows: I went forth without being observed, My house being now

at rest.

It takes the metaphor from one who, in order the better to accomplish

something, leaves his house by night and in the dark, when those that are in

the house are now at rest, so that none may hinder him. For this soul had to

go forth to perform a deed so heroic and so rare—namely to become united

with its Divine Beloved—and it had to leave its house, because the Beloved

is not found save alone and without, in solitude. It was for this reason that

the Bride desired to find Him alone, saying: ’ Who would give Thee to me,

my brother, that I might find Thee alone, without, and that my love might

be communicated to Thee.’ [203] It is needful for the enamoured soul, in

order to attain to its desired end, to do likewise, going forth at night, when

all the domestics in its house are sleeping and at rest—that is, when the low

operations, passions and desires of the soul (who are the people of the

household) are, because it is night, sleeping and at rest. When these are

awake, they invariably hinder the soul from seeking its good, since they are

opposed to its going forth in freedom. These are they of whom Our Saviour

speaks in the Gospel, saying that they are the enemies of man. [204] And

thus it would be meet that their operations and motions should be put to

sleep in this night, to the end that they may not hinder the soul from

attaining the supernatural blessings of the union of love of God, for, while

these are alive and active, this cannot be. For all their work and their natural

motions hinder, rather than aid, the soul’s reception of the spiritual

blessings of the union of love, inasmuch as all natural ability is impotent

with respect to the supernatural blessings that God, by means of His own

infusion, bestows upon the soul passively, secretly and in silence. And thus

it is needful that all the faculties should receive this infusion, and that, in

order to receive it, they should remain passive, and not interpose their own

base acts and vile inclinations.

2. It was a happy chance for this soul that on this night God should put to

sleep all the domestics in its house—that is, all the faculties, passions,

affections and desires which live in the soul, both sensually and spiritually.

For thus it went forth ‘without being observed’—that is, without being

hindered by these affections, etc., for they were put to sleep and mortified in

this night, in the darkness of which they were left, that they might not

notice or feel anything after their own low and natural manner, and might

thus be unable to hinder the soul from going forth from itself and from the

house of its sensuality. And thus only could the soul attain to the spiritual

union of perfect love of God.

3. Oh, how happy a chance is this for the soul which can free itself from the

house of its sensuality! None can understand it, unless, as it seems to me, it

be the soul that has experienced it. For such a soul will see clearly how

wretched was the servitude in which it lay and to how many miseries it was

subject when it was at the mercy of its faculties and desires, and will know

how the life of the spirit is true liberty and wealth, bringing with it

inestimable blessings. Some of these we shall point out, as we proceed, in

the following stanzas, wherein it will be seen more clearly what good

reason the soul has to sing of the happy chance of its passage from this

dreadful night which has been described above.

[203] Canticles viii, 1.

[204] St. Matthew x, 36.

CHAPTER XV

Sets down the second stanza and its exposition.

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

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

IN this stanza the soul still continues to sing of certain properties of the

darkness of this night, reiterating how great is the happiness which came to

it through them. It speaks of them in replying to a certain tacit objection,

saying that it is not to be supposed that, because in this night and darkness it

has passed through so many tempests of afflictions, doubts, fears and

horrors, as has been said, it has for that reason run any risk of being lost. On

the contrary, it says, in the darkness of this night it has gained itself. For in

the night it has freed itself and escaped subtly from its enemies, who were

continually hindering its progress. For in the darkness of the night it

changed its garments and disguised itself with three liveries and colours

which we shall describe hereafter; and went forth by a very secret ladder,

which none in the house knew, the which ladder, as we shall observe

likewise in the proper place, is living faith. By this ladder the soul went

forth in such complete hiding and concealment, in order the better to

execute its purpose, that it could not fail to be in great security; above all

since in this purgative night the desires, affections and passions of the soul

are put to sleep, mortified and quenched, which are they that, when they

were awake and alive, consented not to this.

The first line, then, runs thus: [205]

In darkness and secure.

[205] [Lit., ‘The line, then, continues, and says thus.’ In fact, however, the

author is returning to the first line of the stanza.

CHAPTER XVI

Explains how, though in darkness, the soul walks securely.

THE darkness which the soul here describes relates, as we have said, to the

desires and faculties, sensual, interior and spiritual, for all these are

darkened in this night as to their natural light, so that, being purged in this

respect, they may be illumined with respect to the supernatural. For the

spiritual and the sensual desires are put to sleep and mortified, so that they

can experience [206] nothing, either Divine or human; the affections of the

soul are oppressed and constrained, so that they can neither move nor find

support in anything; the imagination is bound and can make no useful

reflection; the memory is gone; the understanding is in darkness, unable to

understand anything; and hence the will likewise is arid and constrained and

all the faculties are void and useless; and in addition to all this a thick and

heavy cloud is upon the soul, keeping it in affliction, and, as it were, far

away from God. [207] It is in this kind of ‘darkness’ that the soul says here

it travelled ’securely.’

2. The reason for this has been clearly expounded; for ordinarily the soul

never strays save through its desires or its tastes or its reflections or its

understanding or its affections; for as a rule it has too much or too little of

these, or they vary or go astray, and hence the soul becomes inclined to that

which behoves it not. Wherefore, when all these operations and motions are

hindered, it is clear that the soul is secure against being led astray by them;

for it is free, not only from itself, but likewise from its other enemies, which

are the world and the devil. For when the affections and operations of the

soul are quenched, these enemies cannot make war upon it by any other

means or in any other manner.

3. It follows from this that, the greater is the darkness wherein the soul

journeys and the more completely is it voided of its natural operations, the

greater is its security. For, as the Prophet says, [208] perdition comes to the

soul from itself alone—that is, from its sensual and interior desires and

operations; and good, says God, comes from Me alone. Wherefore, when it

is thus hindered from following the things that lead it into evil, there will

then come to it forthwith the blessings of union with God in its desires and

faculties, which in that union He will make Divine and celestial. Hence, at

the time of this darkness, if the soul considers the matter, it will see very

clearly how little its desire and its faculties are being diverted to things that

are useless and harmful; and how secure it is from vainglory and pride and

presumption, vain and false rejoicing and many other things. It follows

clearly, then, that, by walking in darkness, not only is the soul not lost, but

it has even greatly gained, since it is here gaining the virtues.

4. But there is a question which at once arises here—namely, since the

things of God are of themselves profitable to the soul and bring it gain and

security, why does God, in this night, darken the desires and faculties with

respect to these good things likewise, in such a way that the soul can no

more taste of them or busy itself with them than with these other things, and

indeed in some ways can do so less? The answer is that it is well for the

soul to perform no operation touching spiritual things at that time and to

have no pleasure in such things, because its faculties and desires are base,

impure and wholly natural; and thus, although these faculties be given the

desire and interest in things supernatural and Divine, they could not receive

them save after a base and a natural manner, exactly in their own fashion.

For, as the philosopher says, whatsoever is received comes to him that

receives it after the manner of the recipient. Wherefore, since these natural

faculties have neither purity nor strength nor capacity to receive and taste

things that are supernatural after the manner of those things, which manner

is Divine, but can do so only after their own manner, which is human and

base, as we have said, it is meet that its faculties be in darkness concerning

these Divine things likewise. Thus, being weaned and purged and

annihilated in this respect first of all, they may lose that base and human

way of receiving and acting, and thus all these faculties and desires of the

soul may come to be prepared and tempered in such a way as to be able to

receive, feel and taste that which is Divine and supernatural after a sublime

and lofty manner, which is impossible if the old man die not first of all.

5. Hence it follows that all spiritual things, if they come not from above and

be not communicated by the Father of lights to human desire and free will

(howsoever much a man may exercise his taste and faculties for God, and

howsoever much it may seem to the faculties that they are experiencing

these things), will not be experienced after a Divine and spiritual manner,

but after a human and natural manner, just as other things are experienced,

for spiritual blessings go not from man to God, but come from God to man.

With respect to this (if this were the proper place for it) we might here

explain how there are many persons whose many tastes and affections and

the operations of whose faculties are fixed upon God or upon spiritual

things, and who may perhaps think that this is supernatural and spiritual,

when it is perhaps no more than the most human and natural desires and

actions. They regard these good things with the same disposition as they

have for other things, by means of a certain natural facility which they

possess for directing their desires and faculties to anything whatever.

6. If perchance we find occasion elsewhere in this book, we shall treat of

this, describing certain signs which indicate when the interior actions and

motions of the soul, with respect to communion with God, are only natural,

when they are spiritual, and when they are both natural and spiritual. It

suffices for us here to know that, in order that the interior motions and acts

of the soul may come to be moved by God divinely, they must first be

darkened and put to sleep and hushed to rest naturally as touching all their

capacity and operation, until they have no more strength.

7. Therefore, O spiritual soul, when thou seest thy desire obscured, thy

affections arid and constrained, and thy faculties bereft of their capacity for

any interior exercise, be not afflicted by this, but rather consider it a great

happiness, since God is freeing thee from thyself and taking the matter from

thy hands. For with those hands, howsoever well they may serve thee, thou

wouldst never labour so effectively, so perfectly and so securely (because of

their clumsiness and uncleanness) as now, when God takes thy hand and

guides thee in the darkness, as though thou wert blind, to an end and by a

way which thou knowest not. Nor couldst thou ever hope to travel with the

aid of thine own eyes and feet, howsoever good thou be as a walker.

8. The reason, again, why the soul not only travels securely, when it travels

thus in the darkness, but also achieves even greater gain and progress, is

that usually, when the soul is receiving fresh advantage and profit, this

comes by a way that it least understands—indeed, it quite commonly

believes that it is losing ground. For, as it has never experienced that new

feeling which drives it forth and dazzles it and makes it depart recklessly

from its former way of life, it thinks itself to be losing ground rather than

gaining and progressing, since it sees that it is losing with respect to that

which it knew and enjoyed, and is going by a way which it knows not and

wherein it finds no enjoyment. It is like the traveller, who, in order to go to

new and unknown lands, takes new roads, unknown and untried, and

journeys unguided by his past experience, but doubtingly and according to

what others say. It is clear that such a man could not reach new countries, or

add to his past experience, if he went not along new and unknown roads and

abandoned those which were known to him. Exactly so, one who is learning

fresh details concerning any office or art always proceeds in darkness, and

receives no guidance from his original knowledge, for if he left not that

behind he would get no farther nor make any progress; and in the same way,

when the soul is making most progress, it is travelling in darkness, knowing

naught. Wherefore, since God, as we have said, is the Master and Guide of

this blind soul, it may well and truly rejoice, once it has learned to

understand this, and say: ‘In darkness and secure.’

9. There is another reason why the soul has walked securely in this

darkness, and this is because it has been suffering; for the road of suffering

is more secure and even more profitable than that of fruition and action:

first, because in suffering the strength of God is added to that of man, while

in action and fruition the soul is practising its own weaknesses and

imperfections; and second, because in suffering the soul continues to

practise and acquire the virtues and become purer, wiser and more cautious.

10. But there is another and a more important reason why the soul now

walks in darkness and securely; this emanates from the dark light or

wisdom aforementioned. For in such a way does this dark night of

contemplation absorb and immerse the soul in itself, and so near does it

bring the soul to God, that it protects and delivers it from all that is not God.

For this soul is now, as it were, undergoing a cure, in order that it may

regain its health—its health being God Himself. His Majesty restricts it to a

diet and abstinence from all things, and takes away its appetite for them all.

It is like a sick man, who, if he is respected by those in his house, is

carefully tended so that he may be cured; the air is not allowed to touch

him, nor may he even enjoy the light, nor must he hear footsteps, nor yet

the noise of those in the house; and he is given food that is very delicate,

and even that only in great moderation—food that is nourishing rather than

delectable.

11. All these particularities (which are for the security and safekeeping of

the soul) are caused by this dark contemplation, because it brings the soul

nearer to God. For the nearer the soul approaches Him, the blacker is the

darkness which it feels and the deeper is the obscurity which comes through

its weakness; just as, the nearer a man approaches the sun, the greater are

the darkness and the affliction caused him through the great splendour of

the sun and through the weakness and impurity of his eyes. In the same

way, so immense is the spiritual light of God, and so greatly does it

transcend our natural understanding, that the nearer we approach it, the

more it blinds and darkens us. And this is the reason why, in Psalm xvii,

David says that God made darkness His hiding-place and covering, and His

tabernacle around Him dark water in the clouds of the air. [209] This dark

water in the clouds of the air is dark contemplation and Divine wisdom in

souls, as we are saying. They continue to feel it is a thing which is near

Him, as the tabernacle wherein He dwells, when God brings them ever

nearer to Himself. And thus, that which in God is supreme light and

refulgence is to man blackest darkness, as Saint Paul says, according as

David explains in the same Psalm, saying: ‘Because of the brightness which

is in His presence, passed clouds and cataracts’ [210] —that is to say, over

the natural understanding, the light whereof, as Isaias says in Chapter V:

Obtenebrata est in caligine ejus. [211]

12. Oh, miserable is the fortune of our life, which is lived in such great peril

and wherein it is so difficult to find the truth. For that which is most clear

and true is to us most dark and doubtful; wherefore, though it is the thing

that is most needful for us, we flee from it. And that which gives the

greatest light and satisfaction to our eyes we embrace and pursue, though it

be the worst thing for us, and make us fall at every step. In what peril and

fear does man live, since the very natural light of his eyes by which he has

to guide himself is the first light that dazzles him and leads him astray on

his road to God! And if he is to know with certainty by what road he

travels, he must perforce keep his eyes closed and walk in darkness, that he

may be secure from the enemies who inhabit his own house—that is, his

senses and faculties.

13. Well hidden, then, and well protected is the soul in these dark waters,

when it is close to God. For, as these waters serve as a tabernacle and

dwelling-place for God Himself, they will serve the soul in the same way

and for a perfect protection and security, though it remain in darkness,

wherein, as we have said, it is hidden and protected from itself, and from all

evils that come from creatures; for to such the words of David refer in

another Psalm, where he says: ‘Thou shalt hide them in the hiding-place of

Thy face from the disturbance of men; Thou shalt protect them in Thy

tabernacle from the contradiction of tongues.’ [212] Herein we understand

all kinds of protection; for to be hidden in the face of God from the

disturbance of men is to be fortified with this dark contemplation against all

the chances which may come upon the soul from men. And to be protected

in His tabernacle from the contradiction of tongues is for the soul to be

engulfed in these dark waters, which are the tabernacle of David whereof

we have spoken. Wherefore, since the soul has all its desires and affections

weaned and its faculties set in darkness, it is free from all imperfections

which contradict the spirit, whether they come from its own flesh or from

other creatures. Wherefore this soul may well say that it journeys ‘in

darkness and secure.’

14. There is likewise another reason, which is no less effectual than the last,

by which we may understand how the soul journeys securely in darkness; it

is derived from the fortitude by which the soul is at once inspired in these

obscure and afflictive dark waters of God. For after all, though the waters

be dark, they are none the less waters, and therefore they cannot but refresh

and fortify the soul in that which is most needful for it, although in darkness

and with affliction. For the soul immediately perceives in itself a genuine

determination and an effectual desire to do naught which it understands to

be an offence to God, and to omit to do naught that seems to be for His

service. For that dark love cleaves to the soul, causing it a most watchful

care and an inward solicitude concerning that which it must do, or must not

do, for His sake, in order to please Him. It will consider and ask itself a

thousand times if it has given Him cause to be offended; and all this it will

do with much greater care and solicitude than before, as has already been

said with respect to the yearnings of love. For here all the desires and

energies and faculties of the soul are recollected from all things else, and its

effort and strength are employed in pleasing its God alone. After this

manner the soul goes forth from itself and from all created things to the

sweet and delectable union of love of God, ‘In darkness and secure.’

By the secret ladder, disguised.

[206] [Lit., ‘taste.’]

[207] Some have considered this description exaggerated, but it must be

borne in mind that all souls are not tested alike and the Saint is writing of

those whom God has willed to raise to such sanctity that they drain the cup

of bitterness to the dregs. We have already seen (Bk. I, chap. xiv, sect. 5)

that ‘all do not experience (this) after one manner . . . for (it) is meted out

by the will of God, in conformity with the greater or the smaller degree of

imperfection which each soul has to purge away, (and) in conformity,

likewise, with the degree of love of union to which God is pleased to raise

it’ (Bk. I, chap xiv, above).

[208] Osee xiii, 9.

[209] Psalm xvii, 12 [A.V., xviii, 11].

[210] Psalm xvii, 13 [A.V., xviii, 12].

[211] Isaias v, 30.

[212] Psalm xxx, 21 [A.V., xxxi, 20].

CHAPTER XVII

Explains how this dark contemplation is secret.

THREE things have to be expounded with reference to three words

contained in this present line. Two (namely, ’secret’ and ‘ladder’) belong to

the dark night of contemplation of which we are treating; the third (namely,

‘disguised’) belongs to the soul by reason of the manner wherein it

conducts itself in this night. As to the first, it must be known that in this line

the soul describes this dark contemplation, by which it goes forth to the

union of love, as a secret ladder, because of the two properties which belong

to it—namely, its being secret and its being a ladder. We shall treat of each

separately.

2. First, it describes this dark contemplation as ’secret,’ since, as we have

indicated above, it is mystical theology, which theologians call secret

wisdom, and which, as Saint Thomas says is communicated and infused

into the soul through love. [213] This happens secretly and in darkness, so

as to be hidden from the work of the understanding and of other faculties.

Wherefore, inasmuch as the faculties aforementioned attain not to it, but the

Holy Spirit infuses and orders it in the soul, as says the Bride in the Songs,

without either its knowledge or its understanding, it is called secret. And, in

truth, not only does the soul not understand it, but there is none that does so,

not even the devil; inasmuch as the Master Who teaches the soul is within it

in its substance, to which the devil may not attain, neither may natural sense

nor understanding.

3. And it is not for this reason alone that it may be called secret, but

likewise because of the effects which it produces in the soul. For it is secret

not only in the darknesses and afflictions of purgation, when this wisdom of

love purges the soul, and the soul is unable to speak of it, but equally so

afterwards in illumination, when this wisdom is communicated to it most

clearly. Even then it is still so secret that the soul cannot speak of it and give

it a name whereby it may be called; for, apart from the fact that the soul has

no desire to speak of it, it can find no suitable way or manner or similitude

by which it may be able to describe such lofty understanding and such

delicate spiritual feeling. And thus, even though the soul might have a great

desire to express it and might find many ways in which to describe it, it

would still be secret and remain undescribed. For, as that inward wisdom is

so simple, so general and so spiritual that it has not entered into the

understanding enwrapped or cloaked in any form or image subject to sense,

it follows that sense and imagination (as it has not entered through them nor

has taken their form and colour) cannot account for it or imagine it, so as to

say anything concerning it, although the soul be clearly aware that it is

experiencing and partaking of that rare and delectable wisdom. It is like one

who sees something never seen before, whereof he has not even seen the

like; although he might understand its nature and have experience of it, he

would be unable to give it a name, or say what it is, however much he tried

to do so, and this in spite of its being a thing which he had perceived with

the senses. How much less, then, could he describe a thing that has not

entered through the senses! For the language of God has this characteristic

that, since it is very intimate and spiritual in its relations with the soul, it

transcends every sense and at once makes all harmony and capacity of the

outward and inward senses to cease and be dumb.

4. For this we have both authorities and examples in the Divine Scripture.

For the incapacity of man to speak of it and describe it in words was shown

by Jeremias, [214] when, after God had spoken with him, he knew not what

to say, save ‘Ah, ah, ah!’ This interior incapacity—that is, of the interior

sense of the imagination—and also that of the exterior sense corresponding

to it was also demonstrated in the case of Moses, when he stood before God

in the bush; [215] not only did he say to God that after speaking with Him

he knew not neither was able to speak, but also that not even (as is said in

the Acts of the Apostles) [216] with the interior imagination did he dare to

meditate, for it seemed to him that his imagination was very far away and

was too dumb, not only to express any part of that which he understood

concerning God, but even to have the capacity to receive aught therefrom.

Wherefore, inasmuch as the wisdom of this contemplation is the language

of God to the soul, addressed by pure spirit to pure spirit, naught that is less

than spirit, such as the senses, can perceive it, and thus to them it is secret,

and they know it not, neither can they say it, [217] nor do they desire to do

so, because they see it not.

5. We may deduce from this the reason why certain persons—good and

fearful souls—who walk along this road and would like to give an account

of their spiritual state to their director, [218] are neither able to do so nor

know how. For the reason we have described, they have a great repugnance

in speaking of it, especially when their contemplation is of the purer sort, so

that the soul itself is hardly conscious of it. Such a person is only able to say

that he is satisfied, tranquil and contented and that he is conscious of the

presence of God, and that, as it seems to him, all is going well with him; but

he cannot describe the state of his soul, nor can he say anything about it

save in general terms like these. It is a different matter when the

experiences of the soul are of a particular kind, such as visions, feelings,

etc., which, being ordinarily received under some species wherein sense

participates, can be described under that species, or by some other

similitude. But this capacity for being described is not in the nature of pure

contemplation, which is indescribable, as we have said, for the which

reason it is called secret.

6. And not only for that reason is it called secret, and is so, but likewise

because this mystical knowledge has the property of hiding the soul within

itself. For, besides performing its ordinary function, it sometimes absorbs

the soul and engulfs it in its secret abyss, in such a way that the soul clearly

sees that it has been carried far away from every creature and; has become

most remote therefrom; [219] so that it considers itself as having been

placed in a most profound and vast retreat, to which no human creature can

attain, such as an immense desert, which nowhere has any boundary, a

desert the more delectable, pleasant and lovely for its secrecy, vastness and

solitude, wherein, the more the soul is raised up above all temporal

creatures, the more deeply does it find itself hidden. And so greatly does

this abyss of wisdom raise up and exalt the soul at this time, making it to

penetrate the veins of the science of love, that it not only shows it how base

are all properties of the creatures by comparison with this supreme

knowledge and Divine feeling, but likewise it learns how base and

defective, and, in some measure, how inapt, are all the terms and words

which are used in this life to treat of Divine things, and how impossible it

is, in any natural way or manner, however learnedly and sublimely they

may be spoken of, to be able to know and perceive them as they are, save

by the illumination of this mystical theology. And thus, when by means of

this illumination the soul discerns this truth, namely, that it cannot reach it,

still less explain it, by common or human language, it rightly calls it secret.

7. This property of secrecy and superiority over natural capacity, which

belongs to this Divine contemplation, belongs to it, not only because it is

supernatural, but also inasmuch as it is a road that guides and leads the soul

to the perfections of union with God; which, as they are things unknown

after a human manner, must be approached, after a human manner, by

unknowing and by Divine ignorance. For, speaking mystically, as we are

speaking here, Divine things and perfections are known and understood as

they are, not when they are being sought after and practised, but when they

have been found and practised. To this purpose speaks the prophet Baruch

concerning this Divine wisdom: ‘There is none that can know her ways nor

that can imagine her paths.’ [220] Likewise the royal Prophet speaks in this

manner concerning this road of the soul, when he says to God: ‘Thy

lightnings lighted and illumined the round earth; the earth was moved and

trembled. Thy way is in the sea and Thy paths are in many waters; and Thy

footsteps shall not be known.’ [221]

8. All this, speaking spiritually, is to be understood in the sense wherein we

are speaking. For the illumination of the round earth [222] by the lightnings

of God is the enlightenment which is produced by this Divine

contemplation in the faculties of the soul; the moving and trembling of the

earth is the painful purgation which is caused therein; and to say that the

way and the road of God whereby the soul journeys to Him is in the sea,

and His footprints are in many waters and for this reason shall not be

known, is as much as to say that this road whereby the soul journeys to God

is as secret and as hidden from the sense of the soul as the way of one that

walks on the sea, whose paths and footprints are not known, is hidden from

the sense of the body. The steps and footprints which God is imprinting

upon the souls that He desires to bring near to Himself, and to make great in

union with His Wisdom, have also this property, that they are not known.

Wherefore in the Book of Job mention is made of this matter, in these

words: ‘Hast thou perchance known the paths of the great clouds or the

perfect knowledges?’ [223] By this are understood the ways and roads

whereby God continually exalts souls and perfects them in His Wisdom,

which souls are here understood by the clouds. It follows, then, that this

contemplation which is guiding the soul to God is secret wisdom.

[213] ‘Propter hoc Gregorius (Hom. 14 in Ezech.) constituit vitam

contemplativam in charitate Dei.‘ Cf. Summa Theologica, 2a, 2ae, q. 45, a.

[214] Jeremias i, 6.

[215] Exodus iv, 10 [cf. iii, 2].

[216] Acts vii, 32.

[217] [Or: ‘and they know not how to say it nor are able to do so.’]

[218] [Lit., ‘to him that rules them.’]

[219] [Lit., ‘that is set most far away and most remote from every

creatures.’

[220] Baruch iii, 31.

[221] Psalm lxxvi, 19-20 [A.V., lxxvii, 18-19].

[222] [Lit., ‘of the roundness of the earth.’]

[223] Job xxxvii, 16.

CHAPTER XVIII

Explains how this secret wisdom is likewise a ladder.

IT now remains to consider the second point—namely, how this secret

wisdom is likewise a ladder. With respect to this it must be known that we

can call this secret contemplation a ladder for many reasons. In the first

place, because, just as men mount by means of ladders and climb up to

possessions and treasures and things that are in strong places, even so also,

by means of this secret contemplation, without knowing how, the soul

ascends and climbs up to a knowledge and possession of [224] the good

things and treasures of Heaven. This is well expressed by the royal prophet

David, when he says: ‘Blessed is he that hath Thy favour and help, for such

a man hath placed in his heart ascensions into the vale of tears in the place

which he hath appointed; for after this manner the Lord of the law shall

give blessing, and they shall go from virtue to virtue as from step to step,

and the God of gods shall be seen in Sion.’ [225] This God is the treasure of

the strong place of Sion, which is happiness.

2. We may also call it a ladder because, even as the ladder has those same

steps in order that men may mount, it has them also that they may descend;

even so is it likewise with this secret contemplation, for those same

communications which it causes in the soul raise it up to God, yet humble it

with respect to itself. For communications which are indeed of God have

this property, that they humble the soul and at the same time exalt it. For,

upon this road, to go down is to go up, and to go up, to go down, for he that

humbles himself is exalted and he that exalts himself is humbled. [226] And

besides the fact that the virtue of humility is greatness, for the exercise of

the soul therein, God is wont to make it mount by this ladder so that it may

descend, and to make it descend so that it may mount, that the words of the

Wise Man may thus be fulfilled, namely: ‘Before the soul is exalted, it is

humbled; and before it is humbled, it is exalted.’ [227]

3. Speaking now in a natural way, the soul that desires to consider it will be

able to see how on this road (we leave apart the spiritual aspect, of which

the soul is not conscious) it has to suffer many ups and downs, and how the

prosperity which it enjoys is followed immediately by certain storms and

trials; so much so, that it appears to have been given that period of calm in

order that it might be forewarned and strengthened against the poverty

which has followed; just as after misery and torment there come abundance

and calm. It seems to the soul as if, before celebrating that festival, it has

first been made to keep that vigil. This is the ordinary course and

proceeding of the state of contemplation until the soul arrives at the state of

quietness; it never remains in the same state for long together, but is

ascending and descending continually.

4. The reason for this is that, as the state of perfection, which consists in the

perfect love of God and contempt for self, cannot exist unless it have these

two parts, which are the knowledge of God and of oneself, the soul has of

necessity to be practised first in the one and then in the other, now being

given to taste of the one—that is, exaltation—and now being made to

experience the other—that is, humiliation—until it has acquired perfect

habits; and then this ascending and descending will cease, since the soul

will have attained to God and become united with Him, which comes to

pass at the summit of this ladder, for the ladder rests and leans upon Him.

For this ladder of contemplation, which, as we have said, comes down from

God, is prefigured by that ladder which Jacob saw as he slept, whereon

angels were ascending and descending, from God to man, and from man to

God, Who Himself was leaning upon the end of the ladder. [228] All this,

says Divine Scripture, took place by night, when Jacob slept, in order to

express how secret is this road and ascent to God, and how different from

that of man’s knowledge. This is very evident, since ordinarily that which is

of the greatest profit in it—namely, to be ever losing oneself and becoming

as nothing [229] —is considered the worst thing possible; and that which is

of least worth, which is for a soul to find consolation and sweetness

(wherein it ordinarily loses rather than gains), is considered best.

5. But, speaking now somewhat more substantially and properly of this

ladder of secret contemplation, we shall observe that the principal

characteristic of contemplation, on account of which it is here called a

ladder, is that it is the science of love. This, as we have said, is an infused

and loving knowledge of God, which enlightens the soul and at the same

time enkindles it with love, until it is raised up step by step, even unto God

its Creator. For it is love alone that unites and joins the soul with God. To

the end that this may be seen more clearly, we shall here indicate the steps

of this Divine ladder one by one, pointing out briefly the marks and effects

of each, so that the soul may conjecture hereby on which of them it is

standing. We shall therefore distinguish them by their effects, as do Saint

Bernard and Saint Thomas, [230] for to know them in themselves is not

possible after a natural manner, inasmuch as this ladder of love is, as we

have said, so secret that God alone is He that measures and weighs it.

[224] [Lit., ‘rises to scale, know and possess.’]

[225] Psalm lxxxiii, 6 [A.V., lxxxiv, 7].

[226] St. Luke xiv, 11.

[227] Proverbs xviii, 12.

[228] Genesis xxviii, 12.

[229] [Lit., ‘and annihilating oneself.’]

[230] ‘Ut dicit Bernardus, Magna res est amor, sed sunt in eo gradus.

Loquendo ergo aliquantulum magis moraliter quam realiter, decem amoris

gradus distinguere possumus‘ (D. Thom., De dilectione Dei et proximi, cap.

xxvii. Cf. Opusc. LXI of the edition of Venice, 1595).

CHAPTER XIX

Begins to explain the ten steps [231] of the mystic ladder of Divine love,

according to Saint Bernard and Saint Thomas. The first five are here

treated.

WE observe, then, that the steps of this ladder of love by which the soul

mounts, one by one, to God, are ten. The first step of love causes the soul to

languish, and this to its advantage. The Bride is speaking from this step of

love when she says: ‘I adjure you, daughters of Jerusalem, that, if ye find

my Beloved, ye tell Him that I am sick with love.’ [232] This sickness,

however, is not unto death, but for the glory of God, for in this sickness the

soul swoons as to sin and as to all things that are not God, for the sake of

God Himself, even as David testifies, saying: ‘My soul hath swooned away’

[233] —that is, with respect to all things, for Thy salvation. For just as a

sick man first of all loses his appetite and taste for all food, and his colour

changes, so likewise in this degree of love the soul loses its taste and desire

for all things and changes its colour and the other accidentals of its past life,

like one in love. The soul falls not into this sickness if excess of heat be not

communicated to it from above, even as is expressed in that verse of David

which says: Pluviam voluntariam segregabis, Deus, haereditati tuae, et

infirmata est, [234] etc. This sickness and swooning to all things, which is

the beginning and the first step on the road to God, we clearly described

above, when we were speaking of the annihilation wherein the soul finds

itself when it begins to climb [235] this ladder of contemplative purgation,

when it can find no pleasure, support, consolation or abiding-place in

anything soever. Wherefore from this step it begins at once to climb to the

second.

2. The second step causes the soul to seek God without ceasing. Wherefore,

when the Bride says that she sought Him by night upon her bed (when she

had swooned away according to the first step of love) and found Him not,

she said: ‘I will arise and will seek Him Whom my soul loveth.’ [236] This,

as we say, the soul does without ceasing as David counsels it, saying: ’seek

ye ever the face of God, and seek ye Him in all things, tarrying not until ye

find Him;’ [237] like the Bride, who, having enquired for Him of the

watchmen, passed on at once and left them. Mary Magdalene did not even

notice the angels at the sepulchre. [238] On this step the soul now walks so

anxiously that it seeks the Beloved in all things. In whatsoever it thinks, it

thinks at once of the Beloved. Of whatsoever it speaks, in whatsoever

matters present themselves, it is speaking and communing at once with the

Beloved. When it eats, when it sleeps, when it watches, when it does aught

soever, all its care is about the Beloved, as is said above with respect to the

yearnings of love. And now, as love begins to recover its health and find

new strength in the love of this second step, it begins at once to mount to

the third, by means of a certain degree [239] of new purgation in the night,

as we shall afterwards describe, which produces in the soul the following

effects.

3. The third step of the ladder of love is that which causes the soul to work

and gives it fervour so that it fails not. Concerning this the royal Prophet

says: ’ Blessed is the man that feareth the Lord, for in His commandments

he is eager to labour greatly.’ [240] Wherefore if fear, being the son of love,

causes within him this eagerness to labour, [241] what will be done by love

itself? On this step the soul considers great works undertaken for the

Beloved as small; many things as few; and the long time for which it serves

Him as short, by reason of the fire of love wherein it is now burning. Even

so to Jacob, though after seven years he had been made to serve seven

more, they seemed few because of the greatness of his love. [242] Now if

the love of a mere creature could accomplish so much in Jacob, what will

love of the Creator be able to do when on this third step it takes possession

of the soul? Here, for the great love which the soul bears to God, it suffers

great pains and afflictions because of the little that it does for God; and if it

were lawful for it to be destroyed a thousand times for Him it would be

comforted. Wherefore it considers itself useless in all that it does and thinks

itself to be living in vain. Another wondrous effect produced here in the

soul is that it considers itself as being, most certainly, worse than all other

souls: first, because love is continually teaching it how much is due to God;

[243] and second, because, as the works which it here does for God are

many and it knows them all to be faulty and imperfect, they all bring it

confusion and affliction, for it realizes in how lowly a manner it is working

for God, Who is so high. On this third step, the soul is very far from

vainglory or presumption, and from condemning others. These anxious

effects, with many others like them, are produced in the soul by this third

step; wherefore it gains courage and strength from them in order to mount

to the fourth step, which is that that follows.

4. The fourth step of this ladder of love is that whereby there is caused in

the soul an habitual suffering because of the Beloved, yet without

weariness. For, as Saint Augustine says, love makes all things that are great,

grievous and burdensome to be almost naught. From this step the Bride was

speaking when, desiring to attain to the last step, she said to the Spouse: ’set

me as a seal upon thy heart, as a seal upon thine arm; for love—that is, the

act and work of love—is strong as death, and emulation and importunity

last as long as hell.’ [244] The spirit here has so much strength that it has

subjected the flesh and takes as little account of it as does the tree of one of

its leaves. In no way does the soul here seek its own consolation or

pleasure, either in God, or in aught else, nor does it desire or seek to pray to

God for favours, for it sees clearly that it has already received enough of

these, and all its anxiety is set upon the manner wherein it will be able to do

something that is pleasing to God and to render Him some service such as

He merits and in return for what it has received from Him, although it be

greatly to its cost. The soul says in its heart and spirit: Ah, my God and

Lord! How many are there that go to seek in Thee their own consolation

and pleasure, and desire Thee to grant them favours and gifts; but those

who long to do Thee pleasure and to give Thee something at their cost,

setting their own interests last, are very few. The failure, my God, is not in

Thy unwillingness to grant us new favours, but in our neglect to use those

that we have received in Thy service alone, in order to constrain Thee to

grant them to us continually. Exceeding lofty is this step of love; for, as the

soul goes ever after God with love so true, imbued with the spirit of

suffering for His sake, His Majesty oftentimes and quite habitually grants it

joy, and visits it sweetly and delectably in the spirit; for the boundless love

of Christ, the Word, cannot suffer the afflictions of His lover without

succouring him. This He affirmed through Jeremias, saying: ‘I have

remembered thee, pitying thy youth and tenderness, when thou wentest

after Me in the wilderness.’ [245] Speaking spiritually, this denotes the

detachment which the soul now has interiorly from every creature, so that it

rests not and nowhere finds quietness. This fourth step enkindles the soul

and makes it to burn in such desire for God that it causes it to mount to the

fifth, which is that which follows.

5. The fifth step of this ladder of love makes the soul to desire and long for

God impatiently. On this step the vehemence of the lover to comprehend the

Beloved and be united with Him is such that every delay, however brief,

becomes very long, wearisome and oppressive to it, and it continually

believes itself to be finding the Beloved. And when it sees its desire

frustrated (which is at almost every moment), it swoons away with its

yearning, as says the Psalmist, speaking from this step, in these words: ‘My

soul longs and faints for the dwellings of the Lord.’ [246] On this step the

lover must needs see that which he loves, or die; at this step was Rachel,

when, for the great longing that she had for children, she said to Jacob, her

spouse: ‘Give me children, else shall I die.’ [247] Here men suffer hunger

like dogs and go about and surround the city of God. On this step, which is

one of hunger, [248] the soul is nourished upon love; for, even as is its

hunger, so is its abundance; so that it rises hence to the sixth step, producing

the effects which follow.

[231] [The word translated ’step’ may also (and often more elegantly) be

rendered ‘degree.’ The same word is kept, however, throughout the

translation of this chapter except where noted below.

[232] Canticles v, 8.

[233] Psalm cxlii, 7 [A.V., cxliii, 7].

[234] Psalm lxvii, 10 [A.V., lxviii, 9].

[235] [Lit., ‘to enter (upon).’]

[236] Canticles iii, 2.

[237] Psalm civ, 4 [A.V., cv, 4].

[238] St. John xx.

[239] [The word in the Spanish is that elsewhere translated ’step.’]

[240] Psalm cxi, 1 [A.V., cxii, 1].

[241] [Lit., ‘makes in him this labour of eagerness.’]

[242] Genesis xxix, 20.

[243] [Lit., ‘how much God merits.’]

[244] Canticles viii, 5.

[245] Jeremias ii, 2.

[246] Psalm lxxxiii, 2 [A.V., lxxxiv, 2].

[247] Genesis xxx, 1.

[248] [Lit., ‘On this hungering step.’]

CHAPTER XX

Wherein are treated the other five steps of love.

ON the sixth step the soul runs swiftly to God and touches Him again and

again; and it runs without fainting by reason of its hope. For here the love

that has made it strong makes it to fly swiftly. Of this step the prophet Isaias

speaks thus: ’ The saints that hope in God shall renew their strength; they

shall take wings as the eagle; they shall fly and shall not faint,’ [249] as

they did at the fifth step. To this step likewise alludes that verse of the

Psalm: ’ As the hart desires the waters, my soul desires Thee, O God.’ [250]

For the hart, in its thirst, runs to the waters with great swiftness. The cause

of this swiftness in love which the soul has on this step is that its charity is

greatly enlarged within it, since the soul is here almost wholly purified, as is

said likewise in the Psalm, namely: Sine iniquitate cucurri. [251] And in

another Psalm: ‘I ran the way of Thy commandments when Thou didst

enlarge my heart’; [252] and thus from this sixth step the soul at once

mounts to the seventh, which is that which follows.

2. The seventh step of this ladder makes the soul to become vehement in its

boldness. Here love employs not its judgment in order to hope, nor does it

take counsel so that it may draw back, neither can any shame restrain it; for

the favour which God here grants to the soul causes it to become vehement

in its boldness. Hence follows that which the Apostle says, namely: That

charity believeth all things, hopeth all things and is capable of all things.

[253] Of this step spake Moses, when he entreated God to pardon the

people, and if not, to blot out his name from the book of life wherein He

had written it. [254] Men like these obtain from God that which they beg of

Him with desire. Wherefore David says: ‘Delight thou in God and He will

give thee the petitions of thy heart.’ [255] On this step the Bride grew bold,

and said: Osculetur me osculo oris sui. [256] To this step it is not lawful for

the soul to aspire boldly, unless it feel the interior favour of the King’s

sceptre extended to it, lest perchance it fall from the other steps which it has

mounted up to this point, and wherein it must ever possess itself in humility.

From this daring and power which God grants to the soul on this seventh

step, so that it may be bold with God in the vehemence of love, follows the

eighth, which is that wherein it takes the Beloved captive and is united with

Him, as follows.

3. The eighth step of love causes the soul to seize Him and hold Him fast

without letting Him go, even as the Bride says, after this manner: ‘I found

Him Whom my heart and soul love; I held Him and I will not let Him go.’

[257] On this step of union the soul satisfies her desire, but not

continuously. Certain souls climb some way, [258] and then lose their hold;

for, if this state were to continue, it would be glory itself in this life; and

thus the soul remains therein for very short periods of time. To the prophet

Daniel, because he was a man of desires, was sent a command from God to

remain on this step, when it was said to him: ‘Daniel, stay upon thy step,

because thou art a man of desires.’ [259] After this step follows the ninth,

which is that of souls now perfect, as we shall afterwards say, which is that

that follows.

4. The ninth step of love makes the soul to burn with sweetness. This step is

that of the perfect, who now burn sweetly in God. For this sweet and

delectable ardour is caused in them by the Holy Spirit by reason of the

union which they have with God. For this cause Saint Gregory says,

concerning the Apostles, that when the Holy Spirit came upon them visibly

they burned inwardly and sweetly through love. [260] Of the good things

and riches of God which the soul enjoys on this step, we cannot speak; for

if many books were to be written concerning it the greater part would still

remain untold. For this cause, and because we shall say something of it

hereafter, I say no more here than that after this follows the tenth and last

step of this ladder of love, which belongs not to this life.

5. The tenth and last step of this secret ladder of love causes the soul to

become wholly assimilated to God, by reason of the clear and immediate

[261] vision of God which it then possesses; when, having ascended in this

life to the ninth step, it goes forth from the flesh. These souls, who are few,

enter not into purgatory, since they have already been wholly purged by

love. Of these Saint Matthew says: Beati mundo corde: quoniam ipsi Deum

videbunt. [262] And, as we say, this vision is the cause of the perfect

likeness of the soul to God, for, as Saint John says, we know that we shall

be like Him. [263] Not because the soul will come to have the capacity of

God, for that is impossible; but because all that it is will become like to

God, for which cause it will be called, and will be, God by participation.

6. This is the secret ladder whereof the soul here speaks, although upon

these higher steps it is no longer very secret to the soul, since much is

revealed to it by love, through the great effects which love produces in it.

But, on this last step of clear vision, which is the last step of the ladder

whereon God leans, as we have said already, there is naught that is hidden

from the soul, by reason of its complete assimilation. Wherefore Our

Saviour says: ‘In that day ye shall ask Me nothing,’ etc. [264] But, until that

day, however high a point the soul may reach, there remains something

hidden from it—namely, all that it lacks for total assimilation in the Divine

Essence. After this manner, by this mystical theology and secret love, the

soul continues to rise above all things and above itself, and to mount

upward to God. For love is like fire, which ever rises upward with the

desire to be absorbed in the centre of its sphere.

[249] Isaias xl, 31.

[250] Psalm xli, 2 [A.V., xlii, 1].

[251] Psalm lviii, 5 [A.V., lix, 4].

[252] Psalm cxviii, 32 [A.V., cxix, 32].

[253] 1 Corinthians xiii, 7.

[254] Exodus xxxii, 31-2.

[255] Psalm xxxvi, 4 [A.V., xxxvii, 4].

[256] Canticles i, 1.

[257] Canticles iii, 4.

[258] [Lit., ‘attain to setting their foot.’]

[259] Daniel x, 11.

[260] ‘Dum Deum in ignis visione suscipiunt, per amorem suaviter

arserunt‘ (Hom. XXX in Evang.).

[261] [i.e., direct, not mediate.]

[262] St. Matthew v, 8.

[263] St. John iii, 2.

[264] St. John xvi, 23.

CHAPTER XXI

Which explains the word ‘disguised,’ and describes the colours of the

disguise of the soul in this night.

Now that we have explained the reasons why the soul called this

contemplation a ’secret ladder,’ it remains for us to explain likewise the

word ‘disguised,’ and the reason why the soul says also that it went forth by

this ’secret ladder’ in ’ disguise.’

2. For the understanding of this it must be known that to disguise oneself is

naught else but to hide and cover oneself beneath another garb and figure

than one’s own—sometimes in order to show forth, under that garb or

figure, the will and purpose which is in the heart to gain the grace and will

of one who is greatly loved; sometimes, again, to hide oneself from one’s

rivals and thus to accomplish one’s object better. At such times a man

assumes the garments and livery which best represent and indicate the

affection of his heart and which best conceal him from his rivals.

3. The soul, then, touched with the love of Christ the Spouse, and longing to

attain to His grace and gain His goodwill, goes forth here disguised with

that disguise which most vividly represents the affections of its spirit and

which will protect it most securely on its journey from its adversaries and

enemies, which are the devil, the world and the flesh. Thus the livery which

it wears is of three chief colours—white, green and purple—denoting the

three theological virtues, faith, hope and charity. By these the soul will not

only gain the grace and goodwill of its Beloved, but it will travel in security

and complete protection from its three enemies: for faith is an inward tunic

of a whiteness so pure that it completely dazzles the eyes of the

understanding. [265] And thus, when the soul journeys in its vestment of

faith, the devil can neither see it nor succeed in harming it, since it is well

protected by faith—more so than by all the other virtues—against the devil,

who is at once the strongest and the most cunning of enemies.

4. It is clear that Saint Peter could find no better protection than faith to

save him from the devil, when he said: Cui resistite fortes in fide. [266]

And in order to gain the grace of the Beloved, and union with Him, the soul

cannot put on a better vest and tunic, [267] to serve as a foundation and

beginning of the other vestments of the virtues, than this white garment

[268] of faith, for without it, as the Apostle says, it is impossible to please

God, and with it, it is impossible to fail to please Him. For He Himself says

through a prophet: Sponsabo te mihi in fide. [269] Which is as much as to

say: If thou desirest, O soul, to be united and betrothed to Me, thou must

come inwardly clad in faith.

5. This white garment of faith was worn by the soul on its going forth from

this dark night, when, walking in interior constraint and darkness, as we

have said before, it received no aid, in the form of light, from its

understanding, neither from above, since Heaven seemed to be closed to it

and God hidden from it, nor from below, since those that taught it satisfied

it not. It suffered with constancy and persevered, passing through those

trials without fainting or failing the Beloved, Who in trials and tribulations

proves the faith of His Bride, so that afterwards she may truly repeat this

saying of David, namely: ‘By the words of Thy lips I kept hard ways.’

[270]

6. Next, over this white tunic of faith the soul now puts on the second

colour, which is a green vestment. By this, as we said, is signified the virtue

of hope, wherewith, as in the first case, the soul is delivered and protected

from the second enemy, which is the world. For this green colour of living

hope in God gives the soul such ardour and courage and aspiration to the

things of eternal life that, by comparison with what it hopes for therein, all

things of the world seem to it to be, as in truth they are, dry and faded and

dead and nothing worth. The soul now divests and strips itself of all these

worldly vestments and garments, setting its heart upon naught that is in the

world and hoping for naught, whether of that which is or of that which is to

be, but living clad only in the hope of eternal life. Wherefore, when the

heart is thus lifted up above the world, not only can the world neither touch

the heart nor lay hold on it, but it cannot even come within sight of it.

7. And thus, in this green livery and disguise, the soul journeys in complete

security from this second enemy, which is the world. For Saint Paul speaks

of hope as the helmet of salvation [271] —that is, a piece of armour that

protects the whole head, and covers it so that there remains uncovered only

a visor through which it may look. And hope has this property, that it covers

all the senses of the head of the soul, so that there is naught soever

pertaining to the world in which they can be immersed, nor is there an

opening through which any arrow of the world can wound them. It has a

visor, however, which the soul is permitted to use so that its eyes may look

upward, but nowhere else; for this is the function which hope habitually

performs in the soul, namely, the directing of its eyes upwards to look at

God alone, even as David declared that his eyes were directed, when he

said: Oculi mei semper ad Dominum. [272] He hoped for no good thing

elsewhere, save as he himself says in another Psalm: ‘Even as the eyes of

the handmaid are set upon the hands of her mistress, even so are our eyes

set upon our Lord God, until He have mercy upon us as we hope in Him.’

[273]

8. For this reason, because of this green livery (since the soul is ever

looking to God and sets its eyes on naught else, neither is pleased with

aught save with Him alone), the Beloved has such great pleasure with the

soul that it is true to say that the soul obtains from Him as much as it hopes

for from Him. Wherefore the Spouse in the Songs tells the Bride that, by

looking upon Him with one eye alone, she has wounded His heart. [274]

Without this green livery of hope in God alone it would be impossible for

the soul to go forth to encompass this loving achievement, for it would have

no success, since that which moves and conquers is the importunity of

hope.

9. With this livery of hope the soul journeys in disguise through this secret

and dark night whereof we have spoken; for it is so completely voided of

every possession and support that it fixes its eyes and its care upon naught

but God, putting its mouth in the dust, [275] if so be there may be hope—to

repeat the quotation made above from Jeremias. [276]

10. Over the white and the green vestments, as the crown and perfection of

this disguise and livery, the soul now puts on the third colour, which is a

splendid garment of purple. By this is denoted the third virtue, which is

charity. This not only adds grace to the other two colours, but causes the

soul to rise to so lofty a point that it is brought near to God, and becomes

very beautiful and pleasing to Him, so that it makes bold to say: ‘Albeit I

am black, O daughters of Jerusalem, I am comely; wherefore the King hath

loved me and hath brought me into His chambers.’ [277] This livery of

charity, which is that of love, and causes greater love in the Beloved, not

only protects the soul and hides it from the third enemy, which is the flesh

for where there is true love of God there enters neither love of self nor that

of the things of self), but even gives worth to the other virtues, bestowing

on them vigour and strength to protect the soul, and grace and beauty to

please the Beloved with them, for without charity no virtue has grace before

God. This is the purple which is spoken of in the Songs, [278] upon which

God reclines. Clad in this purple livery the soul journeys when (as has been

explained above in the first stanza) it goes forth from itself in the dark

night, and from all things created, ‘kindled in love with yearnings,’ by this

secret ladder of contemplation, to the perfect union of love of God, its

beloved salvation. [279]

11. This, then, is the disguise which the soul says that it wears in the night

of faith, upon this secret ladder, and these are its three colours. They

constitute a most fit preparation for the union of the soul with God,

according to its three faculties, which are understanding, memory and will.

For faith voids and darkens the understanding as to all its natural

intelligence, and herein prepares it for union with Divine Wisdom. Hope

voids and withdraws the memory from all creature possessions; for, as Saint

Paul says, hope is for that which is not possessed; [280] and thus it

withdraws the memory from that which it is capable of possessing, and sets

it on that for which it hopes. And for this cause hope in God alone prepares

the memory purely for union with God. Charity, in the same way, voids and

annihilates the affections and desires of the will for whatever is not God,

and sets them upon Him alone; and thus this virtue prepares this faculty and

unites it with God through love. And thus, since the function of these

virtues is the withdrawal of the soul from all that is less than God, their

function is consequently that of joining it with God.

12. And thus, unless it journeys earnestly, clad in the garments of these

three virtues, it is impossible for the soul to attain to the perfection of union

with God through love. Wherefore, in order that the soul might attain that

which it desired, which was this loving and delectable union with its

Beloved, this disguise and clothing which it assumed was most necessary

and convenient. And likewise to have succeeded in thus clothing itself and

persevering until it should obtain the end and aspiration which it had so

much desired, which was the union of love, was a great and happy chance,

wherefore in this line the soul also says: Oh, happy chance!

[265] [Lit., ‘that it dislocates the sight of all understanding.’]

[266] 1 St. Peter v, 9.

[267] [Lit., ‘a better undershirt and tunic.’]

[268] [Lit., ‘this whiteness.’]

[269] Osee, ii, 20.

[270] Psalm xvi, 4 [A.V., xvii, 4].

[271] 1 Thessalonians v, 8.

[272] Psalm xxiv, 15 [A.V., xxv, 15].

[273] Psalm cxxii, 2 [A.V., cxxiii, 2].

[274] Canticles iv, 9.

[275] Lamentations iii, 29.

[276] Ibid. [For the quotation, see Bk. II, chap. viii, sect. 1, above.]

[277] Canticles i, 3. [A.V., i, 4.] [For ‘chambers’ the Spanish has ‘bed.’]

[278] Canticles iii, 10.

[279] [Or ‘health.’]

[280] Romans viii, 24.

CHAPTER XXII

Explains the third [281] line of the second stanza.

IT is very clear that it was a happy chance for this soul to go forth with such

an enterprise as this, for it was its going forth that delivered it from the

devil and from the world and from its own sensuality, as we have said.

Having attained liberty of spirit, so precious and so greatly desired by all, it

went forth from low things to high; from terrestrial, it became celestial;

from human, Divine. Thus it came to have its conversation in the heavens,

as has the soul in this state of perfection, even as we shall go on to say in

what follows, although with rather more brevity.

2. For the most important part of my task, and the part which chiefly led me

to undertake it, was the explanation of this night to many souls who pass

through it and yet know nothing about it, as was said in the prologue. Now

this explanation and exposition has already been half completed. Although

much less has been said of it than might be said, we have shown how many

are the blessings which the soul bears with it through the night and how

happy is the chance whereby it passes through it, so that, when a soul is

terrified by the horror of so many trials, it is also encouraged by the certain

hope of so many and such precious blessings of God as it gains therein. And

furthermore, for yet another reason, this was a happy chance for the soul;

and this reason is given in the following line: In darkness and in

concealment.

[281] i.e., in the original Spanish and in our verse rendering of the poem in

The Complete Works of St. John of the Cross, Ed. by E. Allison Peers, Vol.

II (The Newman Press, Westminster, Md.).

CHAPTER XXIII

Expounds the fourth line [282] and describes the wondrous hiding place

wherein the soul is set during this night. Shows how, although the devil has

an entrance into other places that are very high, he has none into this.

‘IN concealment’ is as much as to say ‘in a hiding-place,’ or ‘in hiding’;

and thus, what the soul here says (namely, that it went forth ‘in darkness

and in concealment’) is a more complete explanation of the great security

which it describes itself in the first line of the stanza as possessing, by

means of this dark contemplation upon the road of the union of the love of

God.

2. When the soul, then, says ‘in darkness and in concealment,’ it means

that, inasmuch as it journeyed in darkness after the manner aforementioned,

it went in hiding and in concealment from the devil and from his wiles and

stratagems. The reason why, as it journeys in the darkness of this

contemplation, the soul is free, and is hidden from the stratagems of the

devil, is that the infused contemplation which it here possesses is infused

into it passively and secretly, without the knowledge of the senses and

faculties, whether interior or exterior, of the sensual part. And hence it

follows that, not only does it journey in hiding, and is free from the

impediment which these faculties can set in its way because of its natural

weakness, but likewise from the devil; who, except through these faculties

of the sensual part, cannot reach or know that which is in the soul, nor that

which is taking place within it. Wherefore, the more spiritual, the more

interior and the more remote from the senses is the communication, the

farther does the devil fall short of understanding it.

3. And thus it is of great importance for the security of the soul that its

inward communication with God should be of such a kind that its very

senses of the lower part will remain in darkness [283] and be without

knowledge of it, and attain not to it: first, so that it may be possible for the

spiritual communication to be more abundant, and that the weakness of its

sensual part may not hinder the liberty of its spirit; secondly because, as we

say, the soul journeys more securely since the devil cannot penetrate so far.

In this way we may understand that passage where Our Saviour, speaking in

a spiritual sense, says: ‘Let not thy left hand know what thy right hand

doeth.’ [284] Which is as though He had said: Let not thy left hand know

that which takes place upon thy right hand, which is the higher and spiritual

part of the soul; that is, let it be of such a kind that the lower portion of thy

soul, which is the sensual part, may not attain to it; let it be a secret between

the spirit and God alone.

4. It is quite true that oftentimes, when these very intimate and secret

spiritual communications are present and take place in the soul, although

the devil cannot get to know of what kind and manner they are, yet the great

repose and silence which some of them cause in the senses and the faculties

of the sensual part make it clear to him that they are taking place and that

the soul is receiving a certain blessing from them. And then, as he sees that

he cannot succeed in thwarting them in the depth of the soul, he does what

he can to disturb and disquiet the sensual part—that part to which he is able

to attain—now by means of afflictions, now by terrors and fears, with intent

to disquiet and disturb the higher and spiritual part of the soul by this

means, with respect to that blessing which it then receives and enjoys. But

often, when the communication of such contemplation makes its naked

assault upon the soul and exerts its strength upon it, the devil, with all his

diligence, is unable to disturb it; rather the soul receives a new and a greater

advantage and a securer peace. For, when it feels the disturbing presence of

the enemy, then—wondrous thing!—without knowing how it comes to pass,

and without any efforts of its own, it enters farther into its own interior

depths, feeling that it is indeed being set in a sure refuge, where it perceives

itself to be most completely withdrawn and hidden from the enemy. And

thus its peace and joy, which the devil is attempting to take from it, are

increased; and all the fear that assails it remains without; and it becomes

clearly and exultingly conscious of its secure enjoyment of that quiet peace

and sweetness of the hidden Spouse, which neither the world nor the devil

can give it or take from it. In that state, therefore, it realizes the truth of the

words of the Bride about this, in the Songs, namely: ’see how threescore

strong men surround the bed of Solomon, etc., because of the fears of the

night.’ [285] It is conscious of this strength and peace, although it is often

equally conscious that its flesh and bones are being tormented from

without.

5. At other times, when the spiritual communication is not made in any

great measure to the spirit, but the senses have a part therein, the devil more

easily succeeds in disturbing the spirit and raising a tumult within it, by

means of the senses, with these terrors. Great are the torment and the

affliction which are then caused in the spirit; at times they exceed all that

can be expressed. For, when there is a naked contact of spirit with spirit, the

horror is intolerable which the evil spirit causes in the good spirit (I mean,

in the soul), when its tumult reaches it. This is expressed likewise by the

Bride in the Songs, when she says that it has happened thus to her at a time

when she wished to descend to interior recollection in order to have fruition

of these blessings. She says: ‘I went down into the garden of nuts to see the

apples of the valleys, and if the vine had flourished. I knew not; my soul

troubled me because of the chariots’—that is, because of the chariots and

the noise of Aminadab, which is the devil. [286]

6. At other times it comes to pass that the devil is occasionally able to see

certain favours which God is pleased to grant the soul when they are

bestowed upon it by the mediation of a good angel; for of those favours

which come through a good angel God habitually allows the enemy to have

knowledge: partly so that he may do that which he can against them

according to the measure of justice, and that thus he may not be able to

allege with truth that no opportunity is given him for conquering the soul,

as he said concerning Job. [287] This would be the case if God allowed not

a certain equality between the two warriors—namely, the good angel and

the bad—when they strive for the soul, so that the victory of either may be

of the greater worth, and the soul that is victorious and faithful in

temptation may be the more abundantly rewarded.

7. We must observe, therefore, that it is for this reason that, in proportion as

God is guiding the soul and communing with it, He gives the devil leave to

act with it after this manner. When the soul has genuine visions by the

instrumentality of the good angel (for it is by this instrumentality that they

habitually come, even though Christ reveal Himself, for He scarcely ever

appears [288] in His actual person), God also gives the wicked angel leave

to present to the soul false visions of this very type in such a way that the

soul which is not cautious may easily be deceived by their outward

appearance, as many souls have been. Of this there is a figure in Exodus,

[289] where it is said that all the genuine signs that Moses wrought were

wrought likewise in appearance by the magicians of Pharao. If he brought

forth frogs, they brought them forth likewise; if he turned water into blood,

they did the same.

8. And not only does the evil one imitate God in this type of bodily vision,

but he also imitates and interferes in spiritual communications which come

through the instrumentality of an angel, when he succeeds in seeing them,

as we say (for, as Job said [290] : Omne sublime videt). These, however, as

they are without form and figure (for it is the nature of spirit to have no

such thing), he cannot imitate and counterfeit like those others which are

presented under some species or figure. And thus, in order to attack the

soul, in the same way as that wherein it is being visited, his fearful spirit

presents a similar vision in order to attack and destroy spiritual things by

spiritual. When this comes to pass just as the good angel is about to

communicate spiritual contemplation to the soul, it is impossible for the

soul to shelter itself in the secrecy and hiding-place of contemplation with

sufficient rapidity not to be observed by the devil; and thus he appears to it

and produces a certain horror and perturbation of spirit which at times is

most distressing to the soul. Sometimes the soul can speedily free itself

from him, so that there is no opportunity for the aforementioned horror of

the evil spirit to make an impression on it; and it becomes recollected

within itself, being favoured, to this end, by the effectual spiritual grace that

the good angel then communicates to it.

9. At other times the devil prevails and encompasses the soul with a

perturbation and horror which is a greater affliction to it than any torment in

this life could be. For, as this horrible communication passes direct from

spirit to spirit, in something like nakedness and clearly distinguished from

all that is corporeal, it is grievous beyond what every sense can feel; and

this lasts in the spirit for some time, yet not for long, for otherwise the spirit

would be driven forth from the flesh by the vehement communication of the

other spirit. Afterwards there remains to it the memory thereof, which is

sufficient to cause it great affliction.

10. All that we have here described comes to pass in the soul passively,

without its doing or undoing anything of itself with respect to it. But in this

connection it must be known that, when the good angel permits the devil to

gain this advantage of assailing the soul with this spiritual horror, he does it

to purify the soul and to prepare it by means of this spiritual vigil for some

great spiritual favour and festival which he desires to grant it, for he never

mortifies save to give life, nor humbles save to exalt, which comes to pass

shortly afterwards. Then, according as was the dark and horrible purgation

which the soul suffered, so is the fruition now granted it of a wondrous and

delectable spiritual contemplation, sometimes so lofty that there is no

language to describe it. But the spirit has been greatly refined by the

preceding horror of the evil spirit, in order that it may be able to receive this

blessing; for these spiritual visions belong to the next life rather than to this,

and when one of them is seen this is a preparation for the next.

11. This is to be understood with respect to occasions when God visits the

soul by the instrumentality of a good angel, wherein, as has been said, the

soul is not so totally in darkness and in concealment that the enemy cannot

come within reach of it. But, when God Himself visits it, then the words of

this line are indeed fulfilled, and it is in total darkness and in concealment

from the enemy that the soul receives these spiritual favours of God. The

reason for this is that, as His Majesty dwells substantially in the soul, where

neither angel nor devil can attain to an understanding of that which comes

to pass, they cannot know the intimate and secret communications which

take place there between the soul and God. These communications, since

the Lord Himself works them, are wholly Divine and sovereign, for they are

all substantial touches of Divine union between the soul and God; in one of

which the soul receives a greater blessing than in all the rest, since this is

the loftiest degree [291] of prayer in existence.

12. For these are the touches that the Bride entreated of Him in the Songs,

saying: Osculetur me osculo oris sui. [292] Since this is a thing which takes

place in such close intimacy with God, whereto the soul desires with such

yearnings to attain, it esteems and longs for a touch of this Divinity more

than all the other favours that God grants it. Wherefore, after many such

favours have been granted to the Bride in the said Songs, of which she has

sung therein, she is not satisfied, but entreats Him for these Divine touches,

saying: ’ Who shall give Thee to me, my brother, that I might find Thee

alone without, sucking the breasts of my mother, so that I might kiss Thee

with the mouth of my soul, and that thus no man should despise me or make

bold to attack me.’ [293] By this she denotes the communication which God

Himself alone makes to her, as we are saying, far from all the creatures and

without their knowledge, for this is meant by ‘alone and without, sucking,

etc.’—that is, drying up and draining the breasts of the desires and

affections of the sensual part of the soul. This takes place when the soul, in

intimate peace and delight, has fruition of these blessings, with liberty of

spirit, and without the sensual part being able to hinder it, or the devil to

thwart it by means thereof. And then the devil would not make bold to

attack it, for he would not reach it, neither could he attain to an

understanding of these Divine touches in the substance of the soul in the

loving substance of God.

13. To this blessing none attains save through intimate purgation and

detachment and spiritual concealment from all that is creature; it comes to

pass in the darkness, as we have already explained at length and as we say

with respect to this line. The soul is in concealment and in hiding, in the

which hiding-place, as we have now said, it continues to be strengthened in

union with God through love, wherefore it sings this in the same phrase,

saying: ‘In darkness and in concealment.’

14. When it comes to pass that those favours are granted to the soul in

concealment (that is, as we have said, in spirit only), the soul is wont,

during some of them, and without knowing how this comes to pass, to see

itself so far with drawn and separated according to the higher and spiritual

part, from the sensual and lower portion, that it recognizes in itself two

parts so distinct from each other that it believes that the one has naught to

do with the other, but that the one is very remote and far withdrawn from

the other. And in reality, in a certain way, this is so; for the operation is now

wholly spiritual, and the soul receives no communication in its sensual part.

In this way the soul gradually becomes wholly spiritual; and in this hiding-

place of unitive contemplation its spiritual desires and passions are to a

great degree removed and purged away. And thus, speaking of its higher

part, the soul then says in this last line: My house being now at rest. [294]

[282] i.e., in the original Spanish and in our verse rendering of the poem in

The Complete Works of St. John of the Cross, Ed. by E. Allison Peers, Vol.

II (The Newman Press, Westminster, Md.).

[283] [The Spanish also admits of the rendering: ‘remain shut off from it by

darkness.’

[284] Matthew vi, 3.

[285] Canticles iii, 7-8.

[286] Canticles vi, 10 [A.V., vi, 11-12].

[287] Job i, 1-11.

[288] Such is the unanimous opinion of theologians. Some, with St.

Thomas (Pt. III, q. 57, a. 6), suppose that the appearance which converted

St. Paul near Damascus was that of Our Lord Jesus Christ in person.

[289] Exodus vii, 11-22; viii, 7.

[290] Job xli, 25.

[291] [Lit., ’step.’ Cf. Bk. II, chap. xix, first note, above.]

[292] Canticles i, 1.

[293] Canticles viii, 1.

[294] The word translated ‘at rest’ is a past participle: more literally,

’stilled.’

CHAPTER XXIV

Completes the explanation of the second stanza.

THIS is as much as to say: The higher portion of my soul being like the

lower part also, at rest with respect to its desires and faculties, I went forth

to the Divine union of the love of God.

2. Inasmuch as, by means of that war of the dark night, as has been said, the

soul is combated and purged after two manners—namely, according to its

sensual and its spiritual part—with its senses, faculties and passions, so

likewise after two manners—namely, according to these two parts, the

sensual and the spiritual—with all its faculties and desires, the soul attains

to an enjoyment of peace and rest. For this reason, as has likewise been

said, the soul twice pronounces this line—namely, [295] in this stanza and

in the last—because of these two portions of the soul, the spiritual and the

sensual, which, in order that they may go forth to the Divine union of love,

must needs first be reformed, ordered and tranquillized with respect to the

sensual and to the spiritual, according to the nature of the state of innocence

which was Adam’s. [296] And thus this line which, in the first stanza, was

understood of the repose of the lower and sensual portion, is, in this second

stanza, understood more particularly of the higher and spiritual part; for

which reason it is repeated. [297]

3. This repose and quiet of this spiritual house the soul comes to attain,

habitually and perfectly (in so far as the condition of this life allows), by

means of the acts of the substantial touches of Divine union whereof we

have just spoken; which, in concealment, and hidden from the perturbation

of the devil, and of its own senses and passions, the soul has been receiving

from the Divinity, wherein it has been purifying itself, as I say, resting,

strengthening and confirming itself in order to be able to receive the said

union once and for all, which is the Divine betrothal between the soul and

the Son of God. As soon as these two houses of the soul have together

become tranquillized and strengthened, with all their domestics—namely,

the faculties and desires—and have put these domestics to sleep and made

them to be silent with respect to all things, both above and below, this

Divine Wisdom immediately unites itself with the soul by making a new

bond of loving possession, and there is fulfilled that which is written in the

Book of Wisdom, in these words: Dum quietum silentium contineret omnia,

et nox in suo cursu medium iter haberet, omnipotens sermo tuus Domine a

regalibus sedibus. [298] The same thing is described by the Bride in the

Songs, [299] where she says that, after she had passed by those who

stripped her of her mantle by night and wounded her, she found Him Whom

her soul loved.

4. The soul cannot come to this union without great purity, and this purity is

not gained without great detachment from every created thing and sharp

mortification. This is signified by the stripping of the Bride of her mantle

and by her being wounded by night as she sought and went after the

Spouse; for the new mantle which belonged to the betrothal could not be

put on until the old mantle was stripped off. Wherefore, he that refuses to

go forth in the night aforementioned to seek the Beloved, and to be stripped

of his own will and to be mortified, but seeks Him upon his bed and at his

own convenience, as did the Bride, [300] will not succeed in finding Him.

For this soul says of itself that it found Him by going forth in the dark and

with yearnings of love.

[295] [Lit., ‘twice repeats’—a loosely used phrase.]

[296] H omits this last phrase, which is found in all the other Codices, and

in e.p. The latter adds: ‘notwithstanding that the soul is not wholly free

from the temptations of the lower part.’ The addition is made so that the

teaching of the Saint may not be confused with that of the Illuminists, who

supposed the contemplative in union to be impeccable, do what he might.

The Saint’s meaning is that for the mystical union of the soul with God such

purity and tranquillity of senses and faculties are needful that his condition

resembles that state of innocence in which Adam was created, but without

the attribute of impeccability, which does not necessarily accompany union,

nor can be attained by any, save by a most special privilege of God. Cf. St.

Teresa’s Interior Castle, VII, ii. St. Teresa will be found occasionally to

explain points of mystical doctrine which St. John of the Cross takes as

being understood.

[297] [Lit., ‘twice repeated.’]

[298] Wisdom xviii, 14.

[299] Canticles v, 7.

[300] Canticles iii, 1.

CHAPTER XXV

Wherein is expounded the third stanza.

In the happy night, In secret, when none saw me, Nor I beheld aught,

Without light or guide, save that which burned in my heart.

EXPOSITION

THE soul still continues the metaphor and similitude of temporal night in

describing this its spiritual night, and continues to sing and extol the good

properties which belong to it, and which in passing through this night it

found and used, to the end that it might attain its desired goal with speed

and security. Of these properties it here sets down three.

2. The first, it says, is that in this happy night of contemplation God leads

the soul by a manner of contemplation so solitary and secret, so remote and

far distant from sense, that naught pertaining to it, nor any touch of created

things, succeeds in approaching the soul in such a way as to disturb it and

detain it on the road of the union of love.

3. The second property whereof it speaks pertains to the spiritual darkness

of this night, wherein all the faculties of the higher part of the soul are in

darkness. The soul sees naught, neither looks at aught neither stays in aught

that is not God, to the end that it may reach Him, inasmuch as it journeys

unimpeded by obstacles of forms and figures, and of natural apprehensions,

which are those that are wont to hinder the soul from uniting with the

eternal Being of God.

4. The third is that, although as it journeys it is supported by no particular

interior light of understanding, nor by any exterior guide, that it may

receive satisfaction therefrom on this lofty road—it is completely deprived

of all this by this thick darkness—yet its love alone, which burns at this

time, and makes its heart to long for the Beloved, is that which now moves

and guides it, and makes it to soar upward to its God along the road of

solitude, without its knowing how or in what manner.

There follows the line: In the happy night. [301]

[301] Thus end the majority of the MSS. Cf. pp. lxviii–lxiii, Ascent of

Mount Carmel (Image Books edition), 26–27, on the incomplete state of

this treatise. The MSS. say nothing of this, except that in the Alba de

Tormes MS. we read: ‘Thus far wrote the holy Fray John of the Cross

concerning the purgative way, wherein he treats of the active and the

passive [aspect] of it as is seen in the treatise of the Ascent of the Mount

and in this of the Dark Night, and, as he died, he wrote no more. And

hereafter follows the illuminative way, and then the unitive.’ Elsewhere we

have said that the lack of any commentary on the last five stanzas is not due

to the Saint’s death, since he lived for many years after writing the

commentary on the earlier stanzas.

Indexes

Index of Scripture References

Genesis

[1]21:8 [2]28:12 [3]29:20 [4]30:1 [5]30:1

Exodus

[6]3:2 [7]4:10 [8]7:11-22 [9]8:7 [10]16:3 [11]32:31-32 [12]33:5

Numbers

[13]11:5-6

Deuteronomy

[14]6:5

Job

[15]1:1-11 [16]2:7-8 [17]3:24 [18]7:2-4 [19]7:20 [20]7:20 [21]12:22

[22]16:12-16 [23]16:13-17 [24]19:21 [25]23:6 [26]30:16 [27]30:17

[28]37:16 [29]41:25

Psalms

[30]6:11-12 [31]11:7 [32]12:6 [33]16:4 [34]17:4 [35]17:12 [36]17:13

[37]17:13 [38]18:11 [39]18:12 [40]18:12 [41]24:15 [42]25:15 [43]29:7

[44]30:6 [45]30:21 [46]31:20 [47]36:4 [48]37:4 [49]37:9 [50]38:3 [51]38:4

[52]38:8 [53]38:12 [54]39:2 [55]39:3 [56]39:11 [57]41:2 [58]41:3 [59]42:1

[60]42:2 [61]50:12 [62]50:19 [63]51:10 [64]51:17 [65]58:5 [66]58:10

[67]58:15-16 [68]59:4 [69]59:9 [70]59:14-15 [71]62:2 [72]62:3 [73]63:1

[74]63:1-2 [75]67:10 [76]68:2-4 [77]68:9 [78]69:1-3 [79]72:21 [80]72:22

[81]73:21-22 [82]73:22 [83]76:4 [84]76:7 [85]76:19-20 [86]77:3-4

[87]77:6 [88]77:18-19 [89]83:2 [90]83:6 [91]84:2 [92]84:7 [93]84:9

[94]85:8 [95]87:6-8 [96]87:9 [97]88:5-7 [98]88:8 [99]96:2 [100]97:2

[101]104:4 [102]105:4 [103]111:1 [104]112:1 [105]118:32 [106]119:32

[107]122:2 [108]123:2 [109]138:12 [110]139:12 [111]142:3 [112]142:7

[113]143:3-4 [114]143:7 [115]147:17

Proverbs

[116]18:12

Song of Solomon

[117]1:1 [118]1:1 [119]1:3 [120]1:4 [121]3:1 [122]3:2 [123]3:4 [124]3:7-8

[125]3:10 [126]4:9 [127]5:7 [128]5:8 [129]5:8 [130]6:4 [131]6:10 [132]8:1

[133]8:1 [134]8:5

Isaiah

[135]5:30 [136]19:14 [137]26:9 [138]26:17-18 [139]28:9 [140]28:19

[141]40:31 [142]58:10 [143]64:4

Jeremiah

[144]1:6 [145]2:2 [146]31:18

Lamentations

[147]1:13 [148]3:1-20 [149]3:9 [150]3:9 [151]3:17 [152]3:17 [153]3:28

[154]3:29 [155]3:44

Ezekiel

[156]24:10 [157]24:11

Daniel

[158]10:11

Hosea

[159]2:20 [160]2:20 [161]13:9

Jonah

[162]2:1 [163]2:3-6 [164]2:4-7

Habakkuk

[165]2:1

Matthew

[166]5:8 [167]6:3 [168]7:3 [169]7:14 [170]7:14 [171]7:14 [172]10:36

[173]16:25 [174]23:24 [175]25:8 [176]27:62-66

Luke

[177]14:11 [178]18:11-12

John

[179]1:5 [180]3:2 [181]3:6 [182]16:23 [183]20 [184]20:1 [185]20:15

Acts

[186]7:32

Romans

[187]8:24

1 Corinthians

[188]2:9 [189]2:10 [190]13:6 [191]13:7 [192]13:11

2 Corinthians

[193]6:10

Ephesians

[194]4:4 [195]4:24

Philippians

[196]4:7

1 Thessalonians

[197]5:8

1 Peter

[198]5:9

Revelation

[199]3:8

Tobit

[200]8:2 [201]8:2

Wisdom of Solomon

[202]3:6 [203]7:11 [204]7:24 [205]9:15 [206]16:21 [207]18:14

Baruch

[208]3:31

Sirach

[209]34:9-10 [210]51:19-21 [211]51:28-9