St. Francis DeSales

1567-1622

Bishop, Founder of the Visitationand Doctor of the Church
DOCTOR OF THE CHURCH

Translated by

Rev. Henry Benedict Mackey, O.S.B.

Under the Direction and Patronage of His Lordship the

Right Rev. John Cuthbert Hedley, O.S.B.

BISHOP OF NEWPORT




"A truly admirable book, which has as many admirers of the sweetness of its
author as it has readers. I have carefully arranged that it shall be read
throughout our Society, as the universal remedy for all feeble ones, the
good of slothful ones, the stimulus of love, and the ladder of those who are
tending to perfection. Oh! that all would study it as it deserves! There
should be no one to escape its heat."

St. Vincent de Paul







TAN BOOKS AND PUBLISHERS, INC.

Rockford, Illinois 61105













Originally published in approximately 1884 by Burns & Oates, Limited, London
and Benziger Brothers, New York as Volume II of the series "Library of St.
Francis de Sales." This edition photographically reproduced from the Third
Edition by arrangement with Burns & Oates.


Library of Congress Catalog Card No.: 95-60646


ISBN 0-89555-526-3


Cover illustration: Portrait of St. Francis de Sales by J. J. Owens (early
20th century), based on the Turin portrait. Courtesy of De Sales Resource
Center, Niagara Falls, New York.


Printed and bound in the United States of America.










TAN BOOKS AND PUBLISHERS, INC.

P.O. Box 424

Rockford, Illinois 61105

1997
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DEDICATION

I have dedicated this work to the Mother of dilection and to the Father of
cordial love, as I dedicated the Introduction to the Divine child who is the
Saviour of lovers and the love of the saved. And as women, while they are
strong and able to bring forth their children with ease, choose commonly
their worldly friends to be godfathers, but when their feebleness and
indisposition make their delivery hard and dangerous invoke the Saints of
heaven, and vow to have their children stood to by some poor body or by some
devout soul in the name of S. Joseph, S. Francis of Assisi, S. Francis of
Paula, S. Nicholas, or some other of the blessed, who may obtain of God
their safe delivery and that the child may be born alive: so I, while I was
not yet bishop, having more leisure and less fears for my writings,
dedicated my little works to princes of the earth, but now being weighed
down with my charge, and having a thousand difficulties in writing, I
consecrate all to the princes of heaven, that they may obtain for me the
light requisite, and that if such be the Divine will, these my writings may
be fruitful and profitable to many.

Annecy, the day of the most loving Apostles

S. Peter and S. Paul, 1616.




BLESSED BE GOD.


St. Francis de Sales

From The Preface (Pages 15-16)





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TRANSLATOR'S INTRODUCTION.
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THE following Treatise presents, at first sight, considerable difficulties.
They do not arise from any defect in the Saint's mode of expression, but are
inherent in his subject and manner of treatment, "going deep down into the
roots" of the Love of God. Thus he speaks in his Preface, and continues:
"The first four books, and some chapters of the others might doubtless have
been omitted without disadvantage to such souls as seek only the practice of
holy love. . . . I have been forced to say many things which will appear
more obscure than they are. The depths of science are always somewhat hard
to sound." But he tells us that the state of the minds of his age required
this deeper treatment; and whatever may be thought as to the best way of
presenting modern religious teaching to an age so ignorant, so shallow and
so unthinking as is our own with regard to spiritual truths, there can be no
question that this masterpiece of the chief doctor of ascetic theology must
not be brought down to our level, but that we must raise ourselves towards
it. The necessity of giving some explanation of the sequence of its
doctrine, and of the difficulties which occur, must be our chief excuse for
daring to place words of ours by the side of this finished work of S.
Francis de Sales.

A second reason lies in the fact that the "Treatise on the Love of God" was,
with others of his writings, the chief subject of the celebrated controversy
between Fnlon and Bossuet. There can be little doubt that this lowered the
authority of the work. Not because the mere fact of a discussion seemed to
throw over it an air of unsafeness or suspicion. Descriptions of the sublime
and mysterious operations of the soul under the influence of grace are
always capable of being misunderstood, and "wrested" from their proper
sense, and no Christian mystic, from S. Paul downwards, has escaped this
danger. The shameless abuse of the Saint's authority by the Jansenists left
it eventually quite unimpaired. Hence the mistakes of Molinos, P¨re Lacombe,
Madame Guyon, and even of Fnlon himself would have thrown no permanent
discredit on this treatise, if Bossuet had defended it in a proper spirit
and with full knowledge and discretion. Incredible as the fact may seem, it
is nevertheless true that neither Fnlon nor Bossuet had properly studied
the works in dispute. The former went to them prepossessed. His opinions
were already formed, and he merely sought a confirmation of them. He read in
a most superficial manner. He precipitately chose out what seemed to suit
his purpose, and neglected important statements and obvious interpretations
which were inconsistent with it. He even went so far in what must be called
a sincere dishonesty of misapprehension, as to insist on clinging to
mistakes he had fallen into through using Bailly's Lyons edition of the
"Conferences" (1628), which Bossuet had proved to be spurious. Bossuet, on
his side, admits that he had not previously read it properly, he only
studied what seemed necessary to answer his opponent, and lacked that high
complete knowledge of S. Francis's teaching as a whole which was necessary
for taking a proper view of details and parts. Indeed he only then (1695)
began those profounder studies of mystic theology which enabled him later to
write his treatises on matters which to S. Francis, by the experience of
sanctity more even than by the studies of a lifetime, were as familiar as
the sights and sounds of home. Hence it came about that while he easily
justified the teaching of the Saint, he not only failed to give the full
influence of his genius and authority to unassailably establish its
triumphant reputation, but on the contrary he incidentally disparaged it. He
says, for instance: "S. Francis is a great saint, and I have always
maintained that his doctrine which is objected against us is entirely for us
as to the matters in question: but we must not therefore make him
infallible, and it cannot be forgotten that he has shown more good intention
than knowledge on some points." Fortunately Bossuet mentions these points,
and the reader shall see directly Bossuet's entire misapprehension of the
Saint's meaning, and meanwhile "it cannot be forgotten" that while Bossuet
refused the title "infallible" to S. Francis, for whom no one claims it, he
refused it to the successor of S. Peter to whose office it really belongs.
Bossuet says further: "According to the spirit of his time he had perhaps
less read the Fathers than the modern Scholastics." Did Bossuet remember
that he was speaking of the age of Sirmond, of Bellarmine, of Venerable
Canisius, and, we may say, of Petavius? Francis was a master and a leader of
his age, and, as is clear from this Treatise alone, was excellently versed
both in the Fathers and the Scholastics, if any distinction is to be made
between them. In conclusion, Bossuet presumes to say: "In these places and
in some others his theology might be more exact and his principles more sure
. . . . one would not follow him in certain condescensions which I will not
particularize." In this also it will be shown that Bossuet is most unjust,
but for the present we may consider that he neutralizes his own objection,
when in the same sentence he says: "As director of souls he is truly
sublime." In answer to these attacks, Fnlon gladly changed places with
Bossuet, but his hasty defence was not so complete as the charges were
unwarranted and presumptuous. [1]

We shall briefly touch upon these controverted points as they occur among
the difficulties of the Treatise. Of these difficulties Book I. contains by
far the largest proportion, and we will give an abstract of this Book
sufficiently complete to prevent the necessity, not indeed of studying it,
but, of a too laborious study. [2]

In this first Book the Saint treats in general of the will and its
affections, in particular of its chief affection, love, and of the will's
natural inclination towards a sovereign love of God.

The first chapter is to show that the unity required for the beauty of that
assemblage of perfections called man, lies in this, that all his powers are
grouped round the will and subordinated to it. Then (c. 2) it is shown that
the will exercises its authority in different ways, according to the
different nature of human powers. It governs: (a) exterior movements, at its
pleasure, like slaves; (b) the senses and corporal functions, by a certain
management, like horses or hawks; (c) the fancy, memory, understanding, by
direction and command, like wife and children, who are able to disobey if
they choose; (d) the sensual appetite (c. 3), in the same manner as the
last-named; it is still less under the will's control, but there is no moral
guilt so long as the will refuses to consent to or adopt its wrong desires.
Then are described the twelve movements of this sensual appetite,viz.,
desire, hatred, hope, &c., which are called perturbations or passions. They
are all forms of the chief, and, in a sense, the only passion, love. These
passions are left in man on purpose to exercise his will. A universal
experience, testified to in effect even by those who pretend to deny it,
such as the Stoics, proves that these movements are necessary qualities of
human nature. Love being (c. 4) the root of the others their action is good
or bad according as the love is rightly or wrongly placed. Nay the very will
is bad or good according to its love; and its supremacy does not lie in this
that it can reject all love, but in this that it can choose amongst the
loves presented to it, by directing the understanding to consider one more
favourably or more attentively than another. In the will, now defined (c. 5)
as "the reasonable appetite," there are affections, that is, movements or
forms of love, similar to the passions of the sensual appetite. Having
different and higher objects they often run counter to the passions, and the
reasonable will often forces a soul to remain in circumstances most
repugnant to its sensual inclinations. These affections or tendencies of the
will are divided into four classes according to their dignity, that is, the
dignity of their objects: 1°. Natural affections, where the word natural is
not used in opposition to supernatural (as in this sense the next class
would also be natural), but to signify those first and spontaneous
affections which by the very natural constitution of our reason arise from
the perception of sensible goods. Indeed the word sensible exactly explains
his use of the word natural, provided that we carefully remember that he is
speaking not of the movements of the merely sensual appetite or
concupiscence which are anterior to reason, but of our reasonable and lawful
affections for sensible goods. Such are the affections we have for health,
food, agreeable society. 2°. Reasonable affections, where it will now
easily be understood that the word, which could be applied also to the
preceding class, is restricted to those which are par excellence reasonable,
that is, the affections which arise in the spiritual part of reason, from
the light of nature indeed, but from the higher light of naturesuch as the
affections for the moral virtues. 3°. Christian affections, which spring
from the consideration of truths of the Christian revelation, such as
affections for poverty, chastity, heavenly glory. 4°. Divine, or (entirely)
supernatural affections which God effects in us, and which tend to him as
known by a light entirely above that of nature. These supernatural
affections are primarily three: love for the beautiful in the mysteries of
faith, love for the useful in the promises of hope, and love for the
sovereign good which is the Divinity.

The essential supremacy of divine love is proved (c. 6), and there follows a
wondrous description in four chapters of the nature and qualities of love in
general. Divine love or charity is not defined till chapter 13, and is not
specifically described till the last chapter of Book II.

There are (c. 7) five points in the process of love: 1. Natural affinity of
the will with good. 2. Delectation or complacency in it. 3. A movement,
following this complacency, towards union. 4. Taking the means required for
union. 5. Union itself. [3] It is in 2 and 3, complacency and movement,
that love more properly consists, and most precisely in 3, the movement or
outflowing of heart. Complacency has appeared to some to be the really
essential point of love, but it is not so, because love is a true passion or
affection, that is, a movement. Complacency spreads the wings, love actually
flies. When the object loved is present and the lover has but to grasp it,
the love is called a love of complacency, because complacency has no sooner
produced the movement of love than it ends in a second complacency. When the
object is absent, or, like God, not as present as it may become, the
tending, advancing, aspiring movement is called a love of desire, that is,
the cupidity of what we have not but hope to have. After certain exquisite
distinctions between various kinds of desires, he returns (c. 8) to the
correspondence or affinity with good which is the root of love, and which
consists not exclusively in resemblance, but in a certain relation between
things which makes them apt to union for their mutual perfection. Finally,
coming to union and the means thereto, it is exquisitely proved (c. 9) that
love tends to union but (c. 10) to a spiritual union, and that carnal union,
instead of being an expression of true love or a help to it, is positively a
hindrance, a deviation, a degradation.

The next two chapters (11, 12) treat the important distinction between the
two parts of the soul, the inferior and the superior. It will clear matters
to notice that the Saint means the two parts of the reasonable soul, and
that in the first two paragraphs of chapter 11 he simply says that his
distinction does not refer to the soul as a mere animating principle, or,
again, as the principle of that life which man shares with plants and
animals. He speaks of the human soul as such, that is, as having the gift of
reason.

Even the inferior part of the soul truly reasons and wills (so that his
distinction of inferior and superior is not the distinction between
concupiscence and reason), but it is inferior because it only reasons and
wills according to data furnished by the senses: the superior part reasons
and wills on intellectual and spiritual considerations. But it must be
noticed that these considerations are not necessarily supernatural. The
distinction between the inferior and the superior part of the reasonable
soul is quite independent of revelation: it rests on the distinction between
what we have called the lower light of nature and that higher light which,
for instance, heathen philosophers used, when, for love of country or moral
virtue, they chose to submit to sensible pain or even to death which their
lower reason would direct them to avoid. The existence of this lower reason
is clearly shown in Our Blessed Saviour's prayer in the garden. Willing and
praying are acts of reason, yet in this case they were acts of a lower
reason which Christ permitted to manifest itself, but which had to give way
to higher considerations.

Now the inferior part of reason forms by itself one degree of the reason,
but the superior part has three degrees; in the lowest of which we reason
according to higher natural light, or as the Saint calls it, "human
sciences," in the next according to faith, and in the highest we do not
properly reason, but, "by a simple view of the understanding, and simple
acquiescence," or assent, "of the will" we correspond with God's action,
when he spreads faith, hope and charity in this supreme point of our
reasonable soul. The distinction corresponds exactly with that made in
chapter 5, into natural, reasonable, Christian and divine. The Saint there
spoke of affections or tendencies, he here speaks of reasonings and willings
which are the fulfilment of those tendencies. We may remark here, as an
instance of the superficial way in which Fnlon and Bossuet studied this
Treatise, that they take a totally different ground of distinction in
separating the soul into superior and inferior (viz., sensible perception
and intellectual cognition), and yet do not perceive that they are differing
from the Saint. [4] To sum up (cc. 11, 12): in man there are some powers
altogether below reason; and reason, which is of course one and simple in
itself, has four degrees, according to the rank of the objects presented for
its consideration and love,sensible things, spiritual things known by the
light of nature, spiritual things known by the revelation of Christ, and
spiritual knowledge communicated by the immediate communication of God's
light. Between the last and the last but one there is not exactly a
difference of rank in the objects, but a difference in clearness of
perception and strength of acceptance.

Having finished this subject, which is to some extent a digression, the
Saint returns to the consideration of love, and gives (c. 13) its two main
divisions,viz., love of cupidity when we love good for our own sake, and
love of benevolence when we love good for its sakei.e. love of
self-interest and disinterested love. He has already, in chapter 7,
sub-divided the love of cupidity into love of benevolence and love of
desire, according as the loved good is present or absent, and now he applies
the same division and the same ground of division to the love of
benevolence. This also is either a love of complacency or a love of desire
according as the good is present to or absent from the person we love: we
rejoice in the good he already has, we desire him the good he has not. This
double form of the love of benevolence, besides occurring frequently
throughout, enters particularly into the structure of Book V., and is
importantly needed for the full understanding of Book VIII. It is necessary
here to point out that whereas he has just placed the names complacency and
desire under the generic head, benevolence, he afterwards uses the word
benevolence, specifically, instead of desire, as if dividing benevolence
into complacency, and benevolence proper. This use of the word in the sense
of desire agrees with its etymology,bene-volentia, bien-veuillance,
well-wishing.

Cupidity alone is exercised in the inferior reason, but in the superior
reason both find place. The love of God for his own sake which is necessary
for eternal life belongs exclusively to the supreme degree of the superior
reason, but the Saint teaches (as Bossuet has clearly shown against Fnlon)
that there is a reasonable, high love of cupidity, that is, a love of God as
good to us, even in the highest degree and supreme point of the spirit. This
indeed is the precise motive of Christian hope, which must be kept
subordinate to disinterested love, but can only be separated from it by
abstraction and by a non-permanent act.

The love of benevolence is called friendship when it is mutual. This
friendship has degrees. When it is beyond all comparison with other
friendships, supereminent, sovereign, it is called charitythe friendship or
mutual love of God and man.

The Saint shows (c. 14.) that to employ the word love instead of charity is
not against the use of Scripture, and he mentions one reason for his
preferring the word love which gives us an important help to the
understanding of the Treatise. It is, he says, because he is speaking for
the most part not of the habitual charity, or state of friendship between
God and the soul in grace, but of actual charity, that is, of the acts of
love which at once express and increase the state of charity. Even in the
three following books, in which he is speaking of the formation, or
progress, or loss, of habitual charity, he is still chiefly concerned with
the acts by which this is done.

In the remaining four chapters preparation is made for the account of the
communication of grace and charity to the soul. He shows (c. 15) that there
is a natural affinity of the soul with its God which is the root of love;
that thus, by a glorious paradox, God and man need one another for their
mutual perfection; that we have (c. 16) a natural inclination to love God
above all things; that (c. 17) we cannot fulfil this inclination by natural
powers; but (c. 18) that still the inclination is not left in our hearts for
nothing, as it makes possible the communication of grace, and is the handle
by which grace takes hold of us.

It is chiefly against these three chapters that Bossuet's animadversions are
directed. He accuses the Saint of two errors: 1°. in saying (p. 61) that
God would give grace to one who did his best by the forces of nature as
certainly as he would give a further grace to one who corresponded with a
first grace; 2°. of saying (p. 57) that in the state of original justice
our love of God would not be supernatural.

Fnlon misapprehends the Saint's meaning, and gives a very confused,
imperfect answer to the two objections. The real answer to the first is that
Bossuet is quite outside the question. S. Francis is not speaking of the
step by which a man passes from the natural to the supernatural order, but
of the process by which his natural inclination to love God above all things
ripens into that actual love of him above all things which belongs still to
the natural order. [5]

Bossuet falls into a somewhat similar error in his second objection. S.
Francis is considering, separately, the natural love of God which those
would have who might be in the state of original justice, who would, of
course, by the very terms, have supernatural love. Not only is Bossuet's
criticism ridiculously irrelevant, but his language, to ears which have
heard the Saint declared "Doctor of the Church," sounds almost like
impertinence. "What," he says, "would this humble servant of God have done
if it had been represented to him that in the state of original justice we
should have loved God supernaturally? Would he not have confessed that he
was forgetting the most essential condition of that state?" And it is after
these mistakes that Bossuet complacently observes: "These opinions rectify
themselves in practice when the intention is good;" and "In some points his
theology might be more exact and his principles more sure."

Book II. describes the generation of charity, which, being supernatural,
must be created in the soul as a new quality. And after two introductory
chapters, the remaining twenty are evenly divided between the history of the
action of God in bestowing, and the action of man in appropriating this
gift. The two introductory chapters, which seem at first sight somewhat
foreign to the subject of the book, are directed to put steadily and
unmistakeably before us the truth that when theologians speak of many
perfections, many acts, a most various order of decrees and execution, this
is only according to the human method of viewing, and that our God is really
but one perfection and one act, which is himself. This truth is developed
partly also to introduce a description of the perfections of the God of
whose love the Saint is speaking. At the end of the Treatise he refers to
these chapters as his chief treatment of the chief motive of lovethe
infinite goodness of God in himself.

After this caution and preface, he begins (c. 3) his account of the action
of God in the production of charity. He speaks, first, of God's providence
in general, including under this title his actual providing or foreseeing,
his creating, and his governance. Then (c. 4) he comes to the divine decree
to create Christ's Humanity, angels and men for him, inferior creatures for
menfollowing here the Scotist teaching that Christ would have become man
(though of course he would not have died) even if Adam had not sinned. God
decreed to create angels and man in the supernatural state of charity, and,
foreseeing that some angels and the whole nature or race of man would fall
from this state, God decreed to condemn the former, but to redeem the latter
by his Son's death, making the state of redemption a hundred times better
than the state of innocence. God decreed (c. 6) special favours, such as the
Immaculate Conception of Mary, for certain rare creatures who were to come
nearest to his Son, and then for men in general an immense abundance and
universal showers of grace, an all-illuminating light. He gives a whole
exquisite chapter (c. 8) to show the sincerity and strength of the desire
God thus manifests that we should love him, and then comes (c. 9) to the
effecting this desire by preventing our hearts with his grace, taking hold
of our natural inclination to love him. We can (c. 10) repulse his grace,
not because (c. 11) there is anything wanting in God's offer, but (c. 12) as
an inevitable consequence of our having free-will; in case we accept it, we
begin to mingle our action with God's. Here we must remark that the Saint is
not concerned with the sacramental action of God which creates or re-creates
charity in the soul by baptism or penance, still less does he treat the
semi-miraculous production of charity by Baptism in souls which have not yet
the use of reason, but he speaks of the intellectual and moral process or
set of acts by which a soul gifted with the use of reason is conducted from
infidelity to faith and charity, he treats of the justification which is
made by love even before the actual reception of a Sacrament.

Our first act under divine inspiration is (c. 13) the consenting to those
first stirrings of love which God causes in the soul even before it has
faith. Then (c. 14) comes the production of faith. This may follow after
argument and the acceptance of the fact of miracles, but it is not precisely
an effect of these. Such things make truths of faith extremely credible, but
God alone makes them actually believed. And the effect is from God not only
in this sense that the extremest effort of natural intelligence could not
attain to faith, but also because a moving of the will is required and is
contained in the intellectual act of faith itself, what the Saint calls an
affectionate sentiment of complacency in the beauty and sweetness of the
truth accepted, so that faith is an acquiescence, an assent, an assurance.
The Jews saw the force of the argument from Christ's miracles, but they did
not assent to the conclusion because they loved it not. Hence faith includes
a certain commencement of love in the will, but a love not as yet enough for
eternal life.

Then (cc. 15, 16, 17) comes the production of hope, which brings yet closer
to charity. As soon as faith shows the divine object of man's affections,
there arises a movement of complacency and desiring love. This desire would
be a torment to us unless we had an assurance that we might obtain its
object. God gives this assurance by his promise, and this promise, while it
makes desire stronger, causes at the same time a sense of calm which the
Saint calls the "root" of hope. From it spring two movements or acts of the
soul, the one by which she expects from God the promised happiness, and this
is really the chief element of hopeesperer, the other by which she excites
herself to do all that is required on her partaspirer. This aspiration is
the condition but not the positive ground of our esperation (to coin a
word). That is to say, we may not expect the fruition of God except in so
far as we have a courageous design to do all we can; then, we may infalliby
expect it, yet still ever from the pure mercy of God. Hope, then, is defined
"an expecting and aspiring love," or "the loving complacency we take in the
expecting and seeking our soverign good." It is then a distinct advance in
love. Faith includes a beginning of love in the movement of the will though
its real seat is the intelligence; hope is all love, and its seat is the
will. However hope as such is still insufficient, because, however noble, it
is a love of cupidity, and not that love of God for his own sake which is
necessary for eternal life. By it we love God sovereignly, because we desire
him above all other goods, yet our love is not sovereign, because it is not
the highest kind of love. The Saint is of course speaking of the action of
hope before charity. Hope remains also after charity, existing, as we have
said, in the very heights of perfect love, and after charity its acts merit
before those of every other virtue.

Then comes the production of penitence or repentance. He distinguishes (c.
18) first, a merely human repentance; secondly, a religious repentance
belonging to the merely natural order; thirdly, a supernatural inferior
repentance, which (c. 19) is good but insufficient; and fourthly (c. 20),
perfect repentance, that is, sorrow for sin arising from the loving
consideration of the sovereignly amiable goodness which has been offended
thereby. This is not precisely charity, because charity is, precisely, a
movement towards union, whereas repentance is, precisely, a movement of
separation (from sin); but though it is not precisely charity and therefore
has not the sweetness of charity, it has the virtue and uniting property of
charity, because the object of its movement of separation from sin is union
with God. In practice there is no means, or need, to distinguish, because
perfect repentance is always immediately followed or preceded by charity, or
else the one is born within the other.

The Saint then reminds us (c. 21) that all this has been done by the loving
action of God's grace, which, after awakening our souls and inspiring them
to pray has brought them through faith and hope to penitence and perfect
love. In conclusion (c. 22) he describes charity.

Book III. treats of the progress and perseverance of the soul in charity on
earth, and of the perfection of triumphant charity in heaven. We have only
one remark to make on this book. The Abb Baudry expresses surprise that the
Saint when speaking (c. 2) of the increase of charity by good works does not
mention its increase by the Sacraments. But he includes them under the name
good-works, and in Book IV., c. 4, where he sums up this part of Book III.
mentions them explicitly. He does not dwell on them because his object in
chapter 2 is to show how easy God has made the increase of charity. He takes
therefore as his examples the smallest works, such as the giving a cup of
cold water, and he leaves us to draw the conclusion that the faithful and
loving reception of God's Sacraments would¢ fortiori increase love. Still
it is true that neither here nor elsewhere does he treat the Sacraments
except quite incidentally, and the explanation of this fact gives us a
further insight into the true character and object of the Treatise. He is
concerned with the action of grace in general, not with its action by
particular means; he is more concerned with the interior movements of man
under grace than with the effects worked on him, as it were from outside;
and, as he is treating of actual charity, he is more concerned with the good
acts for which God gives (whether by Sacraments or in any other way) an
increase of grace, than he is concerned with the actual reception of the
grace. We mention this to show that one must not be surprised at not finding
a fuller treatment of, for instance, the Blessed Eucharist. We must also
remember that this Treatise supposes the "Introduction to a Devout Life" as
a foundation. And though he only introduces the Sacraments incidentally, he
does not fail to speak of them frequently, and with such magnificent praises
as we should expect from the Saint of love. As when he says (ii. 22) that
the communication of Christ's body and blood is the very consummation of the
charity he is writing of, and the crown of God's love-dealings with us; or
as when he says, speaking of the return of the penitent soul to reunite
herself, immediately, with her God: "Go and cry God's mercy in the very ear
of your confessor" (ix. 7).

Book IV. describes the relations of love and sin. The following five Books
treat of the exercise of benevolence in its generic sensethe sovereign love
of God for his own sake.

Book V. treats in general of the double action or manifestation of this
love,in complacency, and in benevolence in its specific sense, that is,
desire.

Books VI. and VII. treat of union with God by affection, that is, by prayer;
the former treating of meditation, and of contemplation as far as union, the
latter of union itself. The various degrees of the prayer of quiet are
treated in these books, and Quietists bring forward passages from them, as
from other parts of the Saint's works, in support of their extravagant
system of annihilation of the powers and of purely passive prayer. We have
said elsewhere [6] as much as we think it necessary to say to overthrow
these allegations. But it is important to show that Fnlon was utterly
wrong in appealing to the Saint's authority in support of his erroneous
doctrine on this point in his "Maximes des Saints." Bossuet has exposed
these errors and given a full explanation of the passages cited from S.
Francis; particularly in the 8th and 9th Books of his "Instruction pastorale
sur lestats d™oraison." The Saint expresses in this as in all things the
very teaching of the Church. He rightly teaches that there is, even short of
suspension and ecstasy, a kind of prayer in which God takes into his own
hands the powers of the soul, and produces in it acts far above the ordinary
operations of faith, hope and charity. When God lifts a soul to this prayer,
and also to some extent in preparation and expectancy of this elevation, the
will acts, by a placing of itself (remise) in the hands of God, and even
continues to act, though insensibly: hence the soul is not purely passive,
but the action of God is so mighty, and so far beyond all proportion to that
of the will, that S. Francis says this is "as it were passive." And as the
soul must offer itself to be lifted, and must co-operate with God, therefore
also must it help to acquire and preserve that "quiet" which is the
condition of God's operation: it must abstain from intrusive acts of
reasoning and from other acts of the will, especially from violent ones. But
this prayer, however frequent, long, uninterrupted, absorbing, it may
become, is of itself a non-permanent state, and not of the nature of a
habit, but is always an act of charity. And far from saying that for
perfection it is necessary to be raised to and to keep oneself in this
state, the Saint teaches in a hundred places that the soul, however perfect,
must exercise itself in all ordinary acts of prayer, faith, hope, petition,
which are only put on one side for the time in which God has raised it. The
practice of S. Jane Frances, whose authority was invoked even more
speciously than that of her saintly director by the advocates of passive
prayer, bears on this. We are told that: "She wrote out and signed with her
blood a long prayer which she had composed of petitions, praises,
thanksgivings, for general and particular favours, for relations and
friends, for the living and the dead, in fine for all intentions to which
she considered herself obliged, with the Credo of the Missal, also signed
with her blood. She carried this in a little bag night and day round her
neck, and she had made a loving covenant with Our Lord that whenever she
pressed this to her heart she should be taken to have made all the acts of
faith, the thanks and the petitions she had written." [7] And, at last,
prayer is not a character of perfection, but a means to it, and the two
following statements of S. Francis in his second Conference absolutely
settle the whole question as to his teaching. "It happens often enough that
Our Lord gives these quietudes and tranquillities to souls that are far from
perfection." . . . . and on the other hand: "There are persons who are very
perfect to whom Our Lord has never given such sweetnesses nor such
quietudes; who do all with the superior part of the soul, and make their
will die in the will of God by main force, and with the supreme point of the
reason; and this death is the death of the cross, much more excellent than
that other, which should rather be called a slumber than a death."

As in treating affective love Book VII. completes Book VI., so in treating
effective love Book VIII., which treats of obedience to the already
signified will of God, is completed by Book IX., which treats of
indifference, or the state of perfect readiness to accept all that God's
good-pleasure may choose to send us.

On the doctrine of indifference we venture again to refer the reader to our
Essay [8] just quoted. We add a few words to show how completely Fnlon
erred in appealing to this Treatise to support his extravagant and condemned
propositions that indifference extends to eternal salvation as our
salvation, and to virtuousness as such. The Saint expressly teaches that
while God's glory must be our principal end, we may, indeed we mustour
nature so requiresdesire salvation and virtue as good also in themselves.
Much less can we acquiesce in a supposed decree of damnation, with that
species of absolute act which Fnlon requires as the last test of the
disinterestedness of love. [9] With regard to eternal salvation, we have
only to study the sentiments the Saint places in the hearts and mouths of
those whose love is refined to its highest point at the moment of death (v.
10, vii. 11, 12). He has a chapter to prove that the preceding desire of
heaven increases the enjoyment of it (iii. 10); and he teaches that not only
mercenary hope but also servile fear remain in the soul as part of its habit
of charity so long as it is in this life (xi. 17). With regard to virtues he
says (xi. 13): "Let us love the particular virtues, but principally because
they are agreeable to God;" and: "We must make this heavenly good-pleasure
the soul of our actions, loving the goodness and beauty of virtue
principally because it is agreeable to God." Here the word "principally" is
the key of the whole question.

Bossuet triumphantly vindicates [10] the Saint's doctrine on indifference,
but has a very ill-judged criticism on his use of the word. He is quite
right in saying that indifference is only a degree of resignation, but he
forgets how far ordinary resignation is below indifference. Bossuet gives a
full explanation of all the passages alleged by Fnlon from S. Francis, but
he was hampered, as Fnlon was totally misled, by Maupas's erroneous
account of S. Francis's famous temptation to despair.

Of the remaining three books, Book X. is dedicated entirely to the
commandment of loving God above all things; Books XI. arid XII. are on the
theory and practice of the particular virtues. Indeed it must be remembered
that the object of the Treatise, even in its speculative parts, is
exclusively practical. And as we have shown that in its theory it is free
from error, so we may now be allowed to indicate some of its glorious
truths, particularly with regard to the practice of holy living.

It is not a book, like other spiritual books, treating only a section or a
single element of the devout life, but it is one by which and on which the
whole spiritual life can be formed; it is, with the "Introduction to a
Devout Life," a perfect book, a "complete food," containing all the
ingredients necessary for spiritual sustenance.

It contains in the first place an immense mass of instruction, dogmatic and
moral, on the science of the love of God. It treats not only in broad
outline but also in subtle detail of God and the soul, this world and the
world to come, grace and free-will, holiness and sin, commandments and
counsels, ordinary virtue and perfection, all questions of prayer; it treats
the virtues in detail, not only the virtue of charity in all its parts, but
also faith, hope and fear, zeal, obedience, resignation. The direct course
of the Treatise takes us through all these, and they are not only treated
fully in themselves, but so treated as to bring out in illustrating them a
hundred related truths. A whole theology of Mary might be gathered as we
pass along; her Immaculate Conception (ii. 3), her graces and privileges
(iii. 8.; ix. 14.; vii. 13, 14), her praise of God (v. 11), her heavenly
death (vii. 13, 14). A new light is thrown on the sense of Holy Scripture,
and on the principles and actions of the Saints.

But, in the second place, we more particularly wish to point out some of his
practical principles and rules, the manner of loving and serving God. The
most important of these is what may be called the Saint's general idea or
philosophy of life. It begins thus: "We know by faith that the divinity is
an incomprehensible abyss of all perfection. . . . . And this truth which
faith teaches we consider attentively by meditation, regarding this
immensity of goods which are in God. . . . . Now when we have made our
understanding very attentive to the greatness of the goods which are in this
divine object, it is impossible that our will should not be touched with
complacency in this good . . . . and especially when we see amidst his
perfections that of his infinite love excellently shining" (v. 1, 2.). The
loving soul does not stay in complacency but goes on to benevolence, wishing
her God all possible goods; but as she is at the very same time exulting in
the thought that nothing is wanting to him, she can at first but spend
herself in desiring him what he already has, in desiring to be able to give
him something, and in praises, ever rising higher and higher until at last
she finds a sort of rest in the sense that her utter inability to desire him
anything which he has not, or to praise him fully, is the best proof of the
infinity of the goods he has. This delight in God and these loving desires
are an important part of her service, but they would be barren if she did
not go further. She turns, then, to her own powers, and finds that
exercising them in herself by internal acts of prayer (affective love), and
outside herself, amid creatures, by external acts of the virtues (effective
love), she can increase the glory of her beloved, not in itself, but in and
by herself. Thus the various interior and exterior acts are brought into
one, and the soul's life consists, on the one hand, in "a continual progress
in the sweet searching out of motives which may continually urge her" (v.
7), and, on the other hand, in acts of prayer, in obedience, and in
submission. She "employs every occasion," "does everything most perfectly,"
and, by the practice of Intention, Offering, and Ejaculatory Prayer
(according to methods minutely described in Book XI. 13, 14, 20, and
throughout Book XII.), subordinates and ranges every interior movement and
every exterior action to the service of divine love.

This "view" of life, this continual gazing at the beloved Master for whom we
work, this regarding the acts of life as a mere series of acts or offerings
of love, is the very central point of the ascetic teaching of S. Francis. It
not only gives the nobleness, the intensity, the meritoriousness of charity
to every act, but it gives also at the same time a great simplicity and
largeness, preserving the soul from formality and from getting lost or
wearied in the multitudinous details and minute practices of the spiritual
life; it creates a loving detachment and liberty of spirit, with a readiness
to follow every slightest indication of God's will. Finally, it gives order
to our various duties. For instance, it puts in their proper place, in
serene majesty above the cavils of worldlings, the works of religion and
"piety." These are the immediate services of the beloved, the first effects
of charity, and therefore charity itself teaches that: "Amongst all virtuous
actions we should carefully practise those of religion and reverence to
divine things, those of faith, hope and the most holy fear of God;often
talking of heavenly things, thinking of and aspiring after eternity,
frequenting churches and holy services, reading spiritual books, observing
the ceremonies of the Christian religion; for holy love feeds at will amid
these exercises, and spreads its graces and properties more abundantly over
them than over the simply human virtues" (xi. 3). Yet there is no
fanaticism. The human virtues find their proper place at the proper time,
and, inferior in themselves, are raised by love, that is, by the fact that
for the time they are the will of God, to the highest rank in the eyes of
the loving soul,"For in little and low exercises, charity is practised not
only more frequently, but also as a rule more humbly, and therefore more
profitably and more holily" (xii. 6). He has two glorious chapters on the
truth that legitimate occupations, be they even in court or camp, hinder not
the practice of divine love. "Curiosity, ambition, disquiet, together with
inadvertence to, or not considering, the end for which we are in this world,
are the causes why we have a hundred times more hindrances than affairs; and
it is these embarrassments, that is, the silly, vain, superfluous
undertakings with which we charge ourselves that turn us from the love of
God, and not the true and lawful exercise of our vocations" (xii. 4.). In
the one great principle of doing all for love we have signalized two
conditions or negative aspects of the same. 1°. The intellect must be kept
"very attentive." As the Saint says in the "Introduction to a Devout Life"
(v. 17), so here, consideration "is supposed throughout the entire work,"
the whole edifice is built on it, and therefore the want of it,
"inconsidration," is the ruin of the whole spiritual life (xi. 7.) This
"consideration" need not be called by the alarming name of mental prayer,
but whatever it is called it consists in a most serious attention to
spiritual truths according to the capacity of the individual: there must be
one great esteem, and therefore the energy of the intellect cannot be given
primarily to anything else. So (2°) in the will, there must be but one great
affection, one aim, one desire"One to one." "The desire of exalting God
separates from inferior pleasures" (v. 7); and: "to have the desire of
sacred love we must cut off other desires" (xii. 3). "Those souls who ever
abound in desires, designs and projects never desire holy celestial love as
they ought:" "He who aspires to heavenly love must carefully reserve for it
his leisure, his spirit, and his affections:"words which should be written
in letters of flame for the guidance of such as seek the right way to
perfection.

We will not stay to give examples of his more particular principles with
regard to prayer, but we select a few with regard to the virtues. The truly
loving heart not only observes the commandments, but loves the observance,
of them (viii. 5). "Inclination is neither vice nor virtue. . . . . How many
by natural disposition are sober, simple, silent, even chaste? All this
seems to be virtue, but it is not, until on such natural humours we have
grafted free and voluntary consent:" The whole chapter "On the imperfection
of the virtues of the pagans" (xi. 7.) is of the most practical importance
at the present day. The general, but surely most constraining, principle of
mortification,that other pleasures and other desires must be put down for
the sake of divine love,is applied to the interior in such more particular
methods as this:irregular affections can be put down either on the
principle of curing contraries by contraries, or on the principle of curing
likes by likes: the inclination to trust in earthly things may be overcome
either by thinking of the vanity of earthly hopes or of the solidity of
heavenly hopes; desire of riches or of sensual pleasure may be kept down
either by the contempt of them or by the esteem of heavenly goods, "as fire
is extinguished either by water or by lightning" (xi. 20). It is applied to
the exterior thus: "It is useless to give orders of abstinence to the
palate, but the hands must be ordered to furnish the mouth with meat and
drink only in such and such a measure. . . . . If we desire our eyes not to
see we must turn them away, or (he has just compared our sensual appetite to
a hawk) cover them with their natural hood . . . . it would be folly to
command a horse not to wax fat, not to grow, not to kick,to effect all
this, stop his corn" (i. 2). In this connection, and to show how beautiful,
how consistent, and how feasible his teaching is, it should be studied with
his life, as his life should be explained by his teaching. That his
extraordinary and almost unreasonable meekness sprang from no weakness or
ignorance, but was founded on the deepest wisdom and sincere humility, we
realize when we study his teaching (x.) on zeal and anger. His extremely
affectionate expressions towards his friends find their justification in the
truth that "the union to which love aspires is spiritual" (i. 10). The
ground of his missionary spirit and life is found in v. 9, and the whole
work is the explanation of his absolute devotion of himself to the loving
service of God and his neighbour.

In the third place, the Treatise contains a full exposition of the motives
for serving God, the why of a spiritual life. This is all reduced to the one
great motive of the infinite perfectionsespecially the amiableness, the
love, the goodness of Godbrought before us in a hundred ways. His mere
descriptions are enough to bring home this motive to the heart that reads
them with attention, but the Saint himself puts them together (xii., 11, 12)
with the exact method of applying them. But besides the direct treatment of
the motives, the Treatise is pervaded by a heavenly persuasive unction,
which ever urges them. This is why S. Vincent calls it "the goad of the
slothful and the stimulus of love." While S. Francis seems only to be making
us clearly understand what virtue is, he at the same time makes us esteem
and love it; his reasons for loving God and practising virtue are not cold,
dry logic, but reach the heart, and command assent; and while he is
apparently only fixing our attention on the way to practise virtue he is at
the same time gently but effectively touching the springs of the will to
make us love and prepare to effect it. But besides this continual
stimulation he has direct exhortations; he stops, as it were, in his course
to preach. One chapter is headed: "An exhortation to the amorous submission
which we owe to the decrees of divine Providence" (iv. 8). Another is his
exposition of S. Paul's,"The charity of Christ presseth us." Another"An
exhortation to the sacrifice we ought to make to God of our free-will" (xii.
10). And other chapters, though not precisely in the form of exhortations,
contain the virtue of them. Such are the chapters "On condolence and
complacency in the Passion of Our Lord" (v. 5); on the "Marvellous history
of a gentleman who died of love on Mount Olivet" (vii. 12); and the last
chapter of all: "That Mount Calvary is the true academy of love."

But, in the fourth place, this Treatise is not only a manual and a guide to
perfection, but it is also a meditation-book, and a prayer-book. In such
chapters as those just mentioned the devout soul will find all the materials
of most excellent meditations;not only deep pregnant thoughts, but also a
very fountain of affections and ejaculations, most pressing movements of the
will, and most effective resolutions. The summing up of motives, and method
of using them is already in the very form of meditation. But almost every
chapter could be used as such. For instance, if one wished to strengthen the
groundwork of lovethe realization of the perfections of Godafter thinking
out Book v. cc. 1. 2., he could add Book i. cc. 15, 18, Book ii. cc. 1, 2,
8, 15, 22, and Book iii. cc. 11, 12, 13. This Book III. furnishes grand
meditations on heaven, and every Book is full of the excellences of charity,
than which no consideration could be more touching or more practical.

Then, the Treatise is a prayer-book. Very frequently the Saint ends his
chapter with an exquisite prayer, himself giving the expression of the
ardours with which he has filled our hearts. All Book V. is a prayer;for
instance, c. 5 on the Passion, c. 6 on Desires. Profound dogma, having
permeated the intellect, exhales itself, as it were, to God on the apex of
the spirit in such burning words as his"Ah! then I am not made for this
world, &c." (i. 15), or"Ah! Jesus, who will give me grace to be one single
spirit with thee, &c!" (vii. 3.)

We have now to speak of our text and rendering. We have followed the text of
Viv¨s's edition of the "Å’uvres Compl¨tes," which, with a little improvement
from subsequent editions, is a reproduction of the original work, published
at Lyons by Rigaud in 1616. We therefore follow in our quotations the
spelling and accentuation of the old French. We have of course used the
ordinary Catholic translation of the Bible, except where the Saint leaves
the Vulgate for the Septuagint or the Hebrew, which he occasionally does,
not, as he says, to get the true sense, but "to explain and confirm the true
sense." We have consulted the originals for the citations from the Fathers,
but the Saint himself quotes them with a certain freedom, and we have not
thought it necessary to give the exact references, as the student can easily
find them in Viv¨s or Migne. It has been decided to omit or modify in this
popular edition a few sentences in which the Saint refers to certain
delicate mattersin particular to certain Bible narratives which to his
original readers were matters of familiar knowledgewith the happy
simplicity of his day. As he says in his Preface, "it is of extreme
importance to remember the age in which one writes," and there can be no
doubt that if he had been writing for this age he would have consulted its
requirements, and would have conformed to the universal practice of modern
spiritual writers by forbearing reference to these subjects. He only
introduces them incidentally and merely for the purpose of illustrating his
main argument. The omissions or alterations taken altogether would not
amount to more than two pages. [11]

We are acquainted with only two English versions of the Treatise. The first
was made by Father Car, from the eighteenth French edition, [12] and we had
at first intended to take this as the basis of ours; but when we came to
actually test it by the original, we determined to make our translation
completely independent of it, and in many parts we did not refer to it at
all. As to the substance of the work it is satisfactory; though there are
many slight omissions, and a few somewhat serious mistakes. As to style,
taken by itself, it is a good and a very interesting specimen of the racy,
vigorous English of that day; but taken as a translation, the rendering is
unwarrantably free, and Father Car's manner is far too rugged to represent
that of the Saint, which is always graceful and flowing, even when the
thought is closest and the passion strongest. Father Car gives the structure
correctly, but his manipulation of conjunctions and adverbs, particularly in
the more argumentative parts, is painfully cumbrous. We should expect his
diction to be archaic, but some of his words are quite obsolete [13] . He is
occasionally mistaken in his use of words, as when he translates bont,
"bounty," instead of "goodness;" he makes curious mistakes in words which
are spelt nearly alike. [14] We have laboured to preserve his delightful air
of antiqueness, which is singularly appropriate to the Saint's work.

The modern English translation, which was made, we believe, early in the
present century by an Irish lady, and which has been reprinted by various
publishers, is not worth criticizing. It is not so much a translation as a
very bad adaptation. A good deal of the substance of the book is left out,
and the translator, who was not properly acquainted either with the Saint's
language or her own, substitutes her style for his. We have no hesitation in
saying that there is not a page without important errors on commission or
omission.

We may add a few words on our own work. It is sometimes said that a
translation should read as if it were composed in the language in which it
appears, and, again, that a translator must not attend immediately to the
words of his text, but must, in the first place, aim at producing the same
impression on the minds of his readers as the author would produce on the
minds of those for whom he originally wrote. We cannot but consider both
these rules or principles to be fallacious. A Frenchman, for instance, is
different from an Englishman, and there are many words which necessarily
make a very different impression, according as they fall on a French or on
an English mind. So, again, the French tongue has national peculiarities and
differences which an English translator may not ignore, but which he cannot
represent in strict accordance with the genius of his own tongue. S.
Francis's work would have been totally different, both in itself and in its
effect, if he had been an Englishman writing for his countrymen in their
native language. The most that a translator can do is to put the foreign
reader in as good a position as he would be in if he had a familiar
knowledge of the original. When an Englishman having a familiar knowledge of
French reads a book written in that language, he does not indeed usually
advert to the expression therein of the national characteristicsvivacity,
use of gesture, frequent expression of emotion, strong sense of
personalitybecause he has for the time put on his French form of mind, but
there is certainly a latent sense of foreignness, of which he becomes
conscious when these peculiarities are exaggerated, as in such a writer as
Victor Hugo.

We say this in explanation of the general structure of the work, which could
not be altered without being revolutionized, but as regards particular words
and phrases, we have tried our best to spare our readers the disagreeable
jar which is caused by the introduction of a foreign idiom. In this matter
the Treatise presents less difficulty than is found in the more colloquial
writings, because its argument is very substantial, and its text largely
consists of quotations from the Holy Scriptures, the Fathers, and
philosophers. The difficulty lies deeper, and one must be extremely careful,
in obliterating Gallicisms, not to injure or destroy what belongs to the
very texture of the style. S. Francis's work cannot be made to read as
easily as do the empty, superficial writings of the day, or to appear in a
spick-and-span modern English dress. He is a classic, he is a master of
thought, having his individual characteristics, who wrote scientifically on
profoundest religious truths three ages back.

His style is old-world, antique. Words with him have more of their fresh
native simplicity than they now retain after having done service for three
hundred years. Some of them he was the first to bring out of their classic
use into modern circulation. Hence, we make no difficulty in using such
words as "contemplation," "sensible," "civil," in their original and more
proper sense, as English religious writers of his ageHooker, Taylor or
Miltonused them.

Again, he is scientifictheological and philosophical. He writes a Treatise.
The world, which is only interested in its own matters, will not admit the
rights of the scientific writer on religion. Catholics of the
English-speaking race are placed at a double disadvantage, on account of the
small proportion their numbers bear to the mass of their countrymen. But
surely we are not to acquiesce in allowing terms to be prohibited which are
necessary or useful for properly and safely expressing the distinctive
truths of our religion: there is an interest at stake not merely literary,
but religious, and also patriotic. We claim, therefore, the right to use,
for instance, the words "religion," "religious," "professed," in our
technical Catholic sense, for the state and the persons of those who have
bound themselves to the service of God by vow.

S. Francis also had his special characteristics, which, therefore, are not
French but Salesian. He was slightly old-fashioned, even in his own time. He
was a patriarch of French literature, and devoted, in language as in other
things, to the old times, though so glorious a pioneer of the new. He is
simple in expression amongst the simple. But each word is charged with
thought and reflection, and sometimes an exclamation which one might at
first be tempted to suppress as a French superfluity, turns out to be a
"word," and welded into the substance of the phrase. He was a Saint, also,
and what would be an exclamation in others is an ejaculation in him.

But, after all, our object is devotional and not literary; we are far from
wishing to indulge any literary fancies or crotchets and have no intention
of straining our principles of translation. Our one aim is to make the true
teachings of S. Francis de Sales accessible, profitable, and attractive to
English readers, and so to contribute our poor efforts to advance the divine
Art of Holy Loving.



Weobley,

Feast of our most holy Father S. Benedict, 1884.
_________________________________________________________________

[1] For our authorities and full information on this important controversy
we refer our readers to the admirable "Dissertation," by Baudry, in the
supplementary volume (ix.) of Migne's edition of the "Works of S. Francis
and S. Jane Frances." There is an anonymous dissertation in vol. vi. which
bears on the same subject.

[2] The following part of our Introductionviz., the analysis of Books i.,
ii., will probably be found more intelligible and useful after reading the
Saint's text.

[3] This division is the connecting chain of the whole Treatise, and it will
be found that each Book treats of one or more of its parts. Thus the three
following Books are on point 3, Book v. on point 2, Books vi.“ix. on points
4 and 5 (viz., union by affective and by effective love), x.“xii. on point
3.

[4] Certain expressions on p. 50 require explanation. It is there said that
in the superior part of the soul there are two degrees of reasonthe answer
is that the Saint for the moment puts out of consideration the lowest degree
of the higher reason, and concerns himself with the two supernatural
degrees. And a little lower down he speaks of the action of faith "in the
inferior part of the soul," but he really means in the lower one of the two
highest degrees.

[5] It is true that elsewhere (Book iv. c. v.) S. Francis says, after S.
Thomas and S. Francis Xavier, that God is sure to give grace to those who
fulfil the natural law, but, since in the state of fallen nature the natural
law itself cannot be fully observed without grace, there is already supposed
in the hearts of such persons the existence of grace which draws the further
grace. This the Saint expressly states (xi. 1).

[6] "Four Essays on the Life and Writings of S. Francis de Sales," Essay
III. p. 88.

[7] From her life by Maupas, quoted by Bossuet in the "Instr. Past. sur les
tats d™oraison," viii.

[8] Pp. 82-4.

[9] The Saint is careful to qualify any ambiguous statement (as in ix. 4) by
declaring that he speaks "par imagination de chose impossible."

[10] In the same "Instruction, &c."

[11] They occur in i. 5, 10; iv. 10; v. 1; vi. 15; vii. 1; viii. 1; ix. 10;
x. 7, 9; xi. 4, 10, 11, 14.

[12] "A Treatise of the Love of God." Written in French by B. Francis de
Sales, Bishope and Prince of Geneva. Translated into English by Miles Car,
priest of the English Colledge of Doway. The eighteenth edition. Printed at
Doway by Gerard Pinchon, at the sign of Coleyn, 1630.

[13] We would gladly have reintroduced such a fine old word as "yert," which
represents the now untranslateable eslan or eslancement.

[14] For instance nuisance as if it were naissance; jeusnes et veilles, as
if they were jeunes et vieilles.
_________________________________________________________________

TABLE OF CONTENTS.
_________________________________________________________________


PAGE
Translator's Introduction. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
.
vii
_________________________________________________________________

The Author's Dedicatory Prayer. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . .
1
The Preface. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
3

BOOK I.
CONTAINING A PREPARATION FOR THE WHOLE TREATISE.
CHAP. PAGE
I.

That for the beauty of human nature God has given the government of all the
faculties of the soul to the will. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . .
17
II.

How the will variously governs the powers of the soul. . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
19
III.

How the will governs the sensual appetite. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . .
21
IV.

That love rules over all the affections and passions, and even governs the
will, although the will has also a dominion over it. . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
24
V.

Of the affections of the will. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . .
26
VI.

How the love of God has dominion over other loves. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
29
VII.

Description of love in general. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . .
30
VIII.

What kind of affinity (convenance) it is which excites love. . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
35
IX.

That love tends to union. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
.
37
X.

That the union to which love aspires is spiritual. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
39
XI.

That there are two portions in the soul, and how. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
45
XII.

That in these two portions of the soul there are four different degrees of
reason. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
48
XIII.

On the difference of loves. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. .
51
XIV.

That charity may be named love. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . .
52
XV.

Of the affinity there is between God and man. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . .
54
XVI.

That we have a natural inclination to love God above all things. . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
56

XVII.

That we have not naturally the power to love God above all things. . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
58
XVIII.

That the natural inclination which we have to love God is not useless. . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
61

BOOK II.
THE HISTORY OF THE GENERATION AND HEAVENLY BIRTH OF DIVINE LOVE.
CHAP. PAGE
I.

That the divine perfections are only a single but infinite perfection. . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
63
II.

That in God there is but one only act, which is his own divinity. . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
66
III.

Of the divine providence in general. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . .
69
IV.

Of the supernatural providence which God uses towards reasonable creatures.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
73
V.

That heavenly providence has provided men with a most abundant redemption. .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
76
VI.

Of certain special favours exercised by the divine providence in the
redemption of man. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
78
VII.

How admirable the divine providence is in the diversity of graces given to
men. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
81
VIII.

How much God desires we should love him. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .
83
IX.

How the eternal love of God prevents our hearts with his inspirations in
order that we may love him. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. .
86
X.

How we oftentimes repulse the inspiration, and refuse to love God. . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
89
XI.

That it is no fault of the divine goodness if we have not a most excellent
love. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
91
XII.

That divine inspirations leave us in full liberty to follow or repulse them.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
94
XIII.

Of the first sentiments of love which divine inspirations cause in the soul
before she has faith. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
98
XIV.

Of the sentiment of the divine love which is had by faith. . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
101
XV.

Of the great sentiment of love which we receive by holy hope. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
104
XVI.

How love is practised in hope. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . .
106
XVII.

That the love which is in hope is very good, though imperfect. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
109
XVIII.

That love is exercised in penitence, and first, that there are divers sorts
of penitence. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
112

XIX.

That penitence without love is imperfect. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . .
115
XX.

How the mingling of love and sorrow takes place in contrition. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
117
XXI.

How our Saviour's loving attractions assist and accompany us to faith and
charity. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
121
XXII.

A short description of charity. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . .
124

BOOK III.
OF THE PROGRESS AND PERFECTION OF LOVE.
CHAP. PAGE
I.

That holy love may be augmented still more and more in everyone of us. . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
127
II.

How easy our Saviour has made the increase of love. . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
129
III.

How a soul in charity makes progress in it. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . .
132
IV.

Of holy perseverance in sacred love. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . .
138
V.

That the happiness of dying in heavenly charity is a special gift of God. .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
141
VI.

That we cannot attain to perfect union with God in this mortal life. . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
143
VII.

That the charity of saints in this mortal life equals, yea sometimes
surpasses, that of the blessed. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . .
145
VIII.

Of the incomparable love which the Mother of God, our Blessed Lady, had. . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
147
IX.

A preparation for the discourse on the union of the blessed with God. . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
150
X.

That the preceding desire will much increase the union of the blessed with
God. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
153
XI.

Of the union of the blessed spirits with God, in the vision of the Divinity.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
154
XII.

Of the eternal union of the blessed spirits with God, in the vision of the
eternal birth of the Son of God. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . .
157
XIII.

Of the union of the blessed with God in the vision of the production of the
Holy Ghost. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
159
XIV.

That the holy light of glory will serve for the union of the blessed spirits
with God. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
161
XV.

That there shall be different degrees of the union of the blessed with God.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
163

BOOK IV.
OF THE DECAY AND RUIN OF CHARITY.
CHAP. PAGE
I.

That as long as we are in this mortal life we may lose the love of God. . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
165
II.

How the soul grows cold in holy love. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
168
III.

How we forsake divine love for that of creatures. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
171
IV.

That heavenly love is lost in a moment. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .
174
V.

That the sole cause of the decay and cooling of charity is in the creature's
will. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
176
VI.

That we ought to acknowledge all the love we bear to God to be from God. . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
178
VII.

That we must avoid all curiosity, and humbly acquiesce in God's most wise
providence. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
182
VIII.

An exhortation to the amorous submission which we owe to the decrees of
divine providence. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
186
IX.

Of a certain remainder of love that oftentimes rests in the soul that has
lost holy charity. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
189
X.

How dangerous this imperfect love is. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
192
XI.

A means to discern this imperfect love. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .
193

BOOK V.
OF THE TWO PRINCIPAL EXERCISES OF HOLY LOVE WHICH CONSIST IN COMPLACENCY AND
BENEVOLENCE.
CHAP. PAGE
I.

Of the sacred complacency of love; and first of what it consists. . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
196
II.

How by holy complacency we are made as little infants at our Saviour's
breasts. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
199
III.

That holy complacency gives our heart to God, and makes us feel a perpetual
desire in fruition. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
203
IV.

Of the loving condolence by which the complacency of love is still better
declared. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
207
V.

Of the condolence and complacency of love in the Passion of our Lord. . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
210
VI.

Of the love of benevolence which we exercise towards our Saviour by way of
desire. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
212
VII.

How the desire to exalt and magnify God separates us from inferior
pleasures, and makes us attentive to the divine perfections. . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
215

VIII.

How holy benevolence produces the praise of the divine well-beloved. . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
217
IX.

How benevolence makes us call all creatures to the praise of God. . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
220
X.

How the desire to praise God makes us aspire to heaven. . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
222
XI.

How we practise the love of benevolence in the praises which our Saviour and
his Mother give to God. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
224
XII.

Of the sovereign praise which God gives unto himself, and how we exercise
benevolence in it. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
228

BOOK VI.
OF THE EXERCISES OF HOLY LOVE IN PRAYER.
CHAP. PAGE
I.

A description of mystical theology, which is no other thing than prayer. . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
231
II.

Of meditationthe first degree of prayer or mystical theology. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
235
III.

A description of contemplation, and of the first difference that there is
between it and meditation. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
.
239
IV.

That love in this life takes its origin but not its excellence from the
knowledge of God. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
241
V.

The second difference between meditation and contemplation. . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
244
VI.

That contemplation is made without labour, which is the third difference
between it and meditation. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
.
247
VII.

Of the loving recollection of the soul in contemplation. . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
251
VIII.

Of the repose of a soul recollected in her well-beloved. . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
254
IX.

How this sacred repose is practised. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . .
257
X.

Of various degrees of this repose, and how it is to be preserved. . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
259
XI.

A continuation of the discourse touching the various degrees of holy quiet,
and of an excellent abnegation of self which is sometimes practised therein.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
261
XII.

Of the outflowing (escoulement) or liquefaction of the soul in God. . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
265
XIII.

Of the wound of love. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
268
XIV.

Of some other means by which holy love wounds the heart. . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
272
XV.

Of the affectionate languishing of the heart wounded with love. . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
275

BOOK VII.
OF THE UNION OF THE SOUL WITH HER GOD, WHICH IS PERFECTED IN PRAYER.
CHAP. PAGE
I.

How love effects the union of the soul with God in prayer. . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
281
II.

Of the various degrees of the holy union which is made in prayer. . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
286
III.

Of the sovereign degree of union by suspension and ravishment. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
289
IV.

Of rapture, and of the first species of it. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . .
294
V.

Of the second species of rapture. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . .
295
VI.

Of the signs of good rapture, and of the third species of the same. . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
298
VII.

How love is the life of the soul, and continuation of the discourse on the
ecstatic life. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
301
VIII.

An admirable exhortation of S. Paul to the ecstatic and superhuman life. . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
304
IX.

Of the supreme effect of affective love, which is the death of the lovers;
and first, of such as died in love. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . .
307
X.

Of those who died by and for divine love. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . .
310
XI.

How some of the heavenly lovers died also of love. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
311
XII.

Marvellous history of the death of a gentleman who died of love on Mount
Olivet. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
314
XIII.

That the most sacred Virgin Mother of God died of love for her son. . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
318
XIV.

That the glorious Virgin died by an extremely sweet and tranquil death. . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
321

BOOK VIII.

OF THE LOVE OF CONFORMITY, BY WHICH WE UNITE OUR WILL TO THE WILL OF GOD,
SIGNIFIED UNTO US BY HIS COMMANDMENTS, COUNSELS AND INSPIRATIONS.
CHAP. PAGE
I.

Of the love of conformity proceeding from sacred complacency. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
325
II.

Of the conformity of submission which proceeds from the love of benevolence.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
327
III.

How we are to conform ourselves to that divine will, which is called the
signified will. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
329

IV.

Of the conformity of our will to the will which God has to save us. . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
332
V.

Of the conformity of our will to that will of God's which is signified to us
by his commandments. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
334
VI.

Of the conformity of our will to that will of God which is signified unto us
by his counsels. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
337
VII.

That the love of God's will signified in the commandments moves us to the
love of the counsels. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
340
VIII.

That the contempt of the evangelical counsels is a great sin. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
343
IX.

A continuation of the preceding discourse. How every one, while bound to
love, is not bound to practise, all the evangelical counsels, and yet how
every one should practise what he is able. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . .
346
X.

How we are to conform ourselves to God's will signified unto us by
inspirations, and first, of the variety of the means by which God inspires
us. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
349
XI.

Of the union of our will with God's in the inspirations which are given for
the extraordinary practice of virtues; and of perseverance in one's
vocation, the first mark of inspiration. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .
352
XII.

Of the union of man's will with God's in those inspirations which are
contrary to ordinary laws; and of peace and tranquillity of heart, second
mark of inspiration. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
356
XIII.

Third mark of inspiration, which is holy obedience to the Church and
superiors. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
359
XIV.

A short method to know God's will.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . .
362

BOOK IX.
OF THE LOVE OF SUBMISSION, WEREBY OUR WILL IS UNITED TO GOD'S GOOD-PLEASURE.
CHAP. PAGE
I.

Of the union of our will to that divine will which is called the will of
good-pleasure. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
365
II.

That the union of our will with the good-pleasure of God takes place
principally in tribulations. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. .
367
III.

Of the Union of our will to the divine good-pleasure in spiritual
afflictions, by resignation. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. .
371
IV.

Of the union of our will to the good-pleasure of God by indifference. . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
373
V.

That holy indifference extends to all things. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . .
375

VI.

Of the practice of loving indifference, in things belonging to the service
of God. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
377
VII.

Of the indifference we are to have as to our advancement in virtues. . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
381
VIII.

How we are to unite our will with God's in the permission of sins . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
385
IX.

How the purity of indifference is to be practised in the actions of sacred
love. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
388
X.

Means to discover when we change in the matter of this holy love. . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
390
XI.

Of the perplexity of a heart which loves without knowing whether it pleases
the beloved. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
392
XII.

How the soul amidst these interior anguishes knows not the love she bears to
God: and of the most lovefull death of the will. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . .
395
XIII.

How the will being dead to itself lives entirely in God's will. . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
398
XIV.

An explanation of what has been said touching the decease of our will. . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
400
XV.

Of the most excellent exercise we can make in the interior and exterior
troubles of this life, after attaining the indifference and death of the
will. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
403
XVI.

Of the perfect stripping of the soul which is united to God's will. . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
406

BOOK X.
OF THE COMMANDMENT OF LOVING GOD ABOVE ALL THINGS.
CHAP. PAGE
I.

Of the sweetness of the commandment which God has given us of loving him
above all things. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
410
II.

That this divine commandment of love tends to heaven, yet is given to the
faithful in this world. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
413
III.

How, while the whole heart is employed in sacred love, yet one may love God
in various ways, and also many other things together with him. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
414
IV.

Of two degrees of perfection with which this commandment may be kept in this
mortal life. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
418
V.

Of two other degrees of greater perfection, by which we may love God above
all things. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
421
VI.

That the love of God above all things is common to all lovers. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
425
VII.

Explanation of the preceding chapter. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
427

VIII.

A memorable history to make clearly understood in what the force and
excellence of holy love consist. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . .
430
IX.

A confirmation of what has been said by a noteworthy comparison. . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
434
X.

That we are to love the divine goodness sovereignly above ourselves. . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
437
XI.

How holy charity produces the love of our neighbour. . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
440
XII.

How love produces zeal. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
442
XIII.

How God is jealous of us. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
.
444
XIV.

Of the zeal or jealousy which we have for our Lord. . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
448
XV.

Advice for the direction of holy zeal. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
451
XVI.

That the example of certain saints who seem to have exercised their zeal
with anger, makes nothing against the doctrine of the preceding chapter. . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
455
XVII.

How our Lord practised all the most excellent acts of love. . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
460

BOOK XI.

OF THE SOVEREIGN AUTHORITY WHICH SACRED LOVE HOLDS OVER ALL THE VIRTUES,
ACTIONS AND PERFECTIONS OF THE SOUL.
CHAP. PAGE
I.

How agreeable all virtues are to God. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
464
II.

That divine love makes the virtues immeasurably more agreeable to God than
they are of their own nature. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . .
467
III.

That there are some virtues which divine love raises to a higher degree of
excellence than others. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
470
IV.

That divine love more excellently sanctifies the virtues when they are
practised by its order and commandment. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .
472
V.

How love spreads its excellence over the other virtues, perfecting their
particular excellence. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
475
VI.

Of the excellent value which sacred love gives to the actions which issue
from itself, and to those which proceed from the other virtues. . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
478
VII.

That perfect virtues are never one without the other. . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
481
VIII.

How charity comprehends all the virtues. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .
485
IX.

That the virtues have their perfection from divine love. . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
489
X.

A digression upon the imperfection of the virtues of the pagans. . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
491
XI.

How human actions are without worth when they are done without divine love.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
496

XII.

How holy love returning into the soul, brings back to life all the works
which sin had destroyed. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
499
XIII.

How we are to reduce all the exercise of the virtues, and all our actions to
holy love. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
503
XIV.

The practice of what has been said in the preceding chapter. . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
506
XV.

How charity contains in it the gifts of the Holy Ghost. . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
509
XVI.

Of the loving fear of spouses; a continuation of the same subject. . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
511
XVII.

How servile fear remains together with holy love. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
514
XVIII.

How love makes use of natural, servile and mercenary fear. . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
516
XIX.

How sacred love contains the twelve fruits of the Holy Ghost, together with
the eight beatitudes of the Gospel. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . .
521
XX.

How divine love makes use of all the passions and affections of the soul,
and reduces them to its obedience. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . .
524
XXI.

That sadness is almost always useless, yea contrary to the service of holy
love. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
528

BOOK XII.
CONTAINING CERTAIN COUNSELS FOR THE PROGRESS OF THE SOUL IN HOLY LOVE.
CHAP. PAGE
I.

That our progress in holy love does not depend on our natural temperament. .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
533
II.

That we are to have a continual desire to love. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . .
534
III.

That to have the desire of sacred love we are to cut off all other desires.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
536
IV.

That our lawful occupations do not hinder us from practising divine love. .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
538
V.

A very sweet example on this subject. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
539
VI.

That we are to employ in the practice of divine love all the occasions that
present themselves. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
540
VII.

That we must take pains to do our actions very perfectly. . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
542
VIII.

A general means for applying our works to God's service. . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
543
IX.

Of certain other means by which we may apply our works more particularly to
the love of God. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
545
X.

An exhortation to the sacrifice which we are to make to God of our
free-will. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
548
XI.

The motives we have of holy love. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . .
551
XII.

A most useful method of employing these motives. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . .
552
XIII.

That Mount Calvary is the academy of love. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . .
554
_________________________________________________________________

TREATISE

ON THE

LOVE OF GOD





Dedicatory Prayer
_________________________________________________________________

MOST holy Mother of God, vessel of incomparable election, Queen of sovereign
dilection, thou art the most lovely, the most loving and most beloved of all
creatures! The love of the heavenly Father found its good pleasure in thee
from all eternity, destining thy chaste heart to the perfection of holy
love, to the end that one day thou mightest love his only Son with unique
motherly love as he had done from all eternity with unique fatherly love. O
Saviour Jesus, to whom could I better dedicate words on thy love, than to
the most amiable heart of the well-beloved of thy soul?

But O all triumphant Mother! Who can cast his eyes upon thy majesty without
seeing at thy right hand him whom for the love of thee thy Son deigned so
often to honour with the title of father, having united him unto thee by the
celestial bond of a most virginal marriage, that he might be thy coadjutor
and helper in the charge of the direction and education of his divine
infancy? O great S. Joseph! Most beloved spouse of the well-beloved Mother,
ah! how often hast thou borne in thy arms the love of heaven and earth,
while, inflamed with the sweet embraces and kisses of this Divine child, thy
soul melted away with joy while he tenderly whispered in thy ears (O God
what sweetness!) that thou wast his great friend and his well-beloved
father.

Of old the lamps of the ancient temple were placed upon golden lilies. O
Mary and Joseph, Pair without peer! Sacred lilies of incomparable beauty,
amongst which the well-beloved feeds himself and feeds all his loversah! if
I may give myself any hope that this love-writing may enlighten and inflame
the children of light, where can I better lay it than amongst your lilies,
wherein the Sun of Justice, the splendour and brightness of the eternal
light, did so sovereignly recreate himself that he there fulfilled the
delights of the ineffable love of his heart towards us? O well-beloved
mother of the well-beloved Son, O well-beloved spouse of the well-beloved
mother! Prostrate before the feet of you who bore my Saviour, I dedicate and
consecrate this little work of love to the immense greatness of your love.
Ah! I conjure you by the heart of your sweet Jesus, King of hearts, whom
your hearts adoreanimate my heart, and all hearts that shall read this
writing, by your all powerful favour with the Holy Ghost, that henceforth we
may offer up in holocaust all our affections to his divine goodness, to
live, die, and live again for ever, amid the flames of this heavenly fire,
which Our Lord your son has so much desired to kindle in our hearts, that he
never ceased to labour and sigh for this until death, even the death of the
cross.
_________________________________________________________________

VIVE J‰SUS.
_________________________________________________________________

PREFACE.

THE Holy Ghost teaches that the lips of the heavenly Spouse, that is The
Church, resemble scarlet and the dropping honeycomb, [15] to let every one
know that all the doctrine which she announces consists in sacred love; of a
more resplendent red than scarlet on account of the blood of the spouse
whose love inflames her, sweeter than honey on account of the sweetness of
the beloved who crowns her with delights. So this heavenly spouse when he
thought good to begin the promulgation of his law, cast down upon the
assembly of those disciples whom he had deputed for this work a shower of
fiery tongues, sufficiently intimating thereby that the preaching of the
gospel was wholly designed for the inflaming of hearts.

Represent to yourself beautiful doves amidst the rays of the sun; you will
see their plumage break into as many different colours as you change your
point of viewing them; because their feathers are so fitted to display the
light, that when the sun comes to spread his splendour on them, a multitude
of reflections are made, producing a great variety of tints and glancing
colours, colours so agreeable to the eye that they surpass all other
colours, even the enamel of richest jewels; colours so resplendent and so
delicately gilded that the gilding makes their own colours more bright than
ever; for it was this sight which made the royal prophet say If you sleep
among the midst of lots; you shall be as the wings of a dove covered with
silver, and the hinder parts of her back with the paleness of gold. [16] The
Church is indeed adorned with an excellent variety of teachings, sermons,
treatises and spiritual books, all very beautiful and pleasant to the sight
by reason of the admirable mingling which the Sun of Justice makes of his
divine wisdom with the tongues of his pastors, which are their feathers, and
with their pens, which sometimes hold the place of tongues, and form the
rich plumage of this mystic dove. But amongst all the divers colours of the
doctrine which she displays, the fine gold of holy Charity is everywhere
spread, and makes itself excellently visible, gilding all the science of the
saints with its incomparable lustre, and raising it above every other
science. All is love's, and in love, for love, and of love, in the holy
Church.

But as we are not ignorant that all the light of the day proceeds from the
sun and yet we ordinarily say that the sun does not shine, except only when
it openly sends out its beams here or there; in like manner, though all
Christian doctrine be about sacred love, yet we do not honour all theology
indifferently with the title of this divine love, but only those parts of it
which regard the birth, nature, properties and operations thereof in
particular.

Now it is true that divers writers have already handled this subject; above
all those ancient Fathers, who as they did lovingly serve God so did they
speak divinely of his love. O how good it is to hear S. Paul speak of
heavenly things, who learned them even in heaven itself, and how good to see
those souls who were nursed in the bosom of love write of its holy
sweetness! For this reason those amongst the schoolmen that discoursed the
most and the best of it, did also most excel in piety. S. Thomas has made a
treatise on it worthy of S. Thomas; S. Bonaventure and B. Denis the
Carthusian have made divers most excellent ones on it under various titles,
and as for John Gerson, Chancellor of the University of Paris, Sixtus
Senensis speaks of him thus: "He has so worthily discoursed of the fifty
properties of divine love which are described in the course of the Canticle
of Canticles, that he alone would seem to have taken proper account of the
affections of the love of God." Truly this man was extremely learned,
judicious and devout.

And that we may know this kind of writings to be made more successfully by
the devotion of lovers than by the learning of the wise, it has pleased the
Holy Ghost that many women should work wonders in it. Who has ever better
expressed the heavenly passions of sacred love, than S. Catharine of Genoa,
S. Angela of Foligno, S. Catharine of Siena, S. Mechtilde?

In our age also many have written upon this subject, whose works I have not
had leisure to read distinctly but only here and there so far forth as was
requisite to discover whether this book might yet find place. Father Louis
of Granada, that great doctor of piety, has placed a treatise of the love of
God in his Memorial, which is sufficiently commended in saying it is his.
Diego Stella, of the Order of S. Francis, made another, which is very
effective and profitable for prayer. Christopher Fonseca, an Augustinian,
brought out one still larger, wherein he has many excellent things. Father
Louis Richeome of the Society has also published a book under the title of
The Art of Loving God by his Creatures, and this author is so amiable in his
person and in his beautiful writings that doubtless he is even more so when
writing of love itself. Father John of Jesus Maria, a discalced Carmelite,
has composed a little book which is also called The Art of Loving God, and
which is much esteemed. That great and celebrated Cardinal Bellarmine has
also lately issued a little book entitled: The Ladder for Ascending unto God
by his Creatures, which cannot be but admirable coming from that most
learned hand and most devout soul, who has written so much and so wisely in
the Church's behalf. I will say nothing of the Parenetic of that river of
eloquence [17] who flows at present through all France in the multitude and
variety of his sermons and noble writings. The close spiritual consanguinity
which my soul has contracted with his, when by the imposition of my hands he
received the sacred character of the episcopal order, to the great happiness
of the diocese of Belley and to the honour of the Church, besides a thousand
ties of a sincere friendship which fasten us together, permits me not to
speak with praise of his works, amongst which this Parenetic of divine love
was one of the first sallies of the matchless wealth of intellect which
every one admires in him.

We see further a goodly and magnificent palace which the R. Father Laurence
of Paris, a Capuchin preacher, erected in honour of heavenly love, which
being finished will be a complete course of the Art of loving well. And
lastly the B. Mother (S.) Teresa of Jesus, has written so accurately of the
sacred movements of love in all the books she has left us, that one is
amazed to see so much eloquence masked under such profound humility, such
great solidity of wit in such great simplicity: and her most learned
ignorance makes the knowledge of many learned men appear ignorant, who after
long and laborious study have to blush at not understanding what she so
happily puts down touching the practice of holy love. Thus does God raise
the throne of his power upon the ground of our infirmity, making use of weak
things to confound the strong. [18]

And although, my dear reader, this Treatise which I now present you, comes
far short of those excellent works, without hope of ever running even with
them, yet have I such confidence in the favour of the two heavenly lovers to
whom I dedicate it, that still it may be in some way serviceable to you, and
that in it you will meet with many wholesome considerations which you would
not elsewhere so easily find, as again you may elsewhere find many beautiful
things which are not here. Indeed, it even seems to me that my design is not
the same as that of others except in general, inasmuch as we all look
towards the glory of holy love. But this you will see by reading it.

Truly my intention is only to represent simply and na¯vely, without art,
still more without false colours, the history of the birth, progress, decay,
operations, properties, advantages and excellences of divine love. And if
besides this you find other things, these are but excrescences which it is
almost impossible for such as me who write amidst many distractions to
avoid. But still I think that there will be nothing without some utility.
Nature herself, who is so skilful a workwoman, intending to produce grapes,
produces at the same time, as by a prudent inadvertence, such an abundance
of leaves and branches, that there are very few vines which have not in
their season to be pruned of leaves and shoots.

Writers are often treated too harshly: the censures that are passed on them
are given hastily, and very often with more incorrectness than they
committed imprudence in hastening to publish their writings. Precipitation
of judgment greatly puts in danger the conscience of the judge, and the
innocence of the accused. Many write amiss and many censure foolishly. The
kindness of the reader makes his reading sweet and profitable. And, my dear
reader, to have you more favourable, I will here give you an explanation of
some points which might peradventure otherwise put you out of humour.

Some perhaps will think that I have said too much, and that it was not
requisite to go so deep down into the roots of the subject, but I am of
opinion that heavenly love is a plant like to that which we call Angelica,
whose root is no less odoriferous and wholesome than the stalk and the
branches. The four first books and some chapters of the rest might without
doubt have been omitted, without disadvantage to such souls as only seek the
practice of holy love, yet all of it will be profitable unto them if they
behold it with a devout eye: while others also might have been disappointed
not to have had the whole of what belongs to the treatise of divine love. I
have taken into consideration as I should do, the state of the minds of this
age: it much imports to remember in what age we are writing.

I cite Scripture sometimes in other terms than those of the ordinary edition
(the Vulgate). For God's sake, my dear reader do me not therefore the wrong
to think that I wish to depart from that edition. Ah no! For I know the Holy
Ghost has authorized it by the sacred Council of Trent, and that therefore
all of us ought to keep to it: on the contrary I only use the other versions
for the service of this, when they explain and confirm its true sense. For
example what the heavenly spouse says to his spouse: Thou hast wounded my
heart: [19] is greatly illustrated by the other version: Thou hast taken
away my heart, or, Thou hast snatched away and ravished my heart. That which
our Saviour said: Blessed are the poor in spirit: is much amplified and
cleared by the Greek: Blessed are the beggars in spirit: and so with others.

I have often cited the sacred Psalmist in verse, and this to recreate your
mind and on account of the ease with which I could do it, by the beautiful
translation of Phillip des Portes, Abbot of Tiron. This however I have
sometimes departed from; not of course thinking I could improve the verses
of this famous poet (for I should be too impertinent if never having so much
as thought of this kind o£ writing, I should pretend to be happy in it in an
age and condition of life which would oblige me to retire from it in case I
had ever been engaged therein), but in some places where the sense might be
variously taken, I have not followed his verse, because I would not follow
his sense, as in Psalm cxxxii., where he has taken a certain Latin word for
the fringe of the garment which I thought ought to be taken for the collar,
wherefore I have translated it to my own mind.

I have said nothing which I have not learned of others, yet it is impossible
for me to remember whence I had everything in particular, but believe me, if
I had taken any lengthy and remarkable passages out of any author, I would
make it a matter of conscience not to let him have the deserved honour of
it, and to remove a suspicion which you may conceive against my sincerity in
this matter, I warn you that the 13th chapter of Book VII. is extracted from
a sermon which I delivered at Paris at S. John's en Gr¨ve upon the feast of
the Assumption of our Blessed Lady, 1602.

I have not always expressed the sequence of the chapters, but if you notice
you will easily find the links of their connection. In that and several
other things I had a care to spare my own leisure and your patience. After I
had caused the Introduction to a Devout Life to be printed, my Lord
Archbishop of Vienne, Peter de Villars, did me the favour of writing his
opinion of it in terms so advantageous to that little book and to me, that I
should never dare to rehearse them: and exhorting me to apply the most of my
leisure to the like works, amongst many rare counsels he favoured me with,
one was that as far as the matter would permit I should always be short in
the chapters. For as, said he, travellers knowing that there is a fair
garden some twenty or twenty-five paces out of their way, readily turn aside
so short a distance to go see it, which they would not do if it were further
distant; even so those who know that there is but little distance between
the beginning and end of a chapter do willingly undertake to read it, which
they would not do though the subject were never so delightful, if a long
time were required for the reading of it. And therefore I had good reason to
follow my own inclination in this respect since it was agreeable to this
great personage who was one of the most saintly prelates and learned doctors
that the Church has had in our age, and who at the time that he honoured me
with his letter was the most ancient of all the doctors of the faculty of
Paris.

A great servant of God informed me not long ago that by addressing my speech
to Philothea in the Introduction to a Devout Life, I hindered many men from
profiting by it: because they did not esteem advice given to a woman, to be
worthy of a man. I marvelled that there were men who, to be thought men,
showed themselves in effect so little men, for I leave it to your
consideration, my dear reader, whether devotion be not as well for men as
for women, and whether we are not to read with as great attention and
reverence the second Epistle of S. John which was addressed to the holy lady
Electa, as the third which he directs to Caius, and whether a thousand
thousand Epistles and excellent Treatises of the ancient fathers of the
Church ought to be held unprofitable to men, because they are addressed to
holy women of those times. But, besides, it is the soul which aspires to
devotion that I call Philothea, and men have souls as well as women.

Nevertheless, to imitate the great Apostle in this occasion, who esteemed
himself a debtor to every one, I have changed my address in this treatise
and speak to Theotimus, but if perchance there should be any woman (and such
an unreasonableness would be more tolerable in them) who would not read the
instructions which are given to men, I beg them to know that Theotimus to
whom I speak is the human spirit desirous of making progress in holy love,
which spirit is equally in women as in men.

This Treatise then is made for a soul already devout that she may be able to
advance in her design, and hence I have been forced to say many things
somewhat unknown to the generality, and which will therefore appear more
obscure than they are. The depths of science are always somewhat hard to
sound, and there are few divers who care and are able to descend and gather
the pearls and other precious stones which are in the womb of the ocean. But
if you have the courage fairly to penetrate these words which I have
written, it will truly be with you as with the divers, who, says Pliny, see
clearly in the deepest caves of the sea the light of the sun: for you will
find in the hardest parts of this discourse a good and fair light. Moreover,
as I do not follow them that despise books treating of a certain
supereminently perfect life, so for my part, I do not speak of such a
supereminence; for I can neither censure the authors, nor authorize the
censors of a doctrine which I do not understand.

I have touched on a number of theological questions, proposing simply, not
so much what I anciently learnt in disputations, as what attention to the
service of souls, and my twenty-four years spent in holy preaching have made
me think most conducive to the glory of the Gospel and of the Church.

For the rest some men of note in various places have signified to me that
certain little books have been published simply under the first letters of
their author's name which are the same as mine. This made some believe that
they were my works, not without some little scandal to such as supposed
thereby that I had bidden adieu to my simplicity, to puff up my style with
pompous words, my argument with worldly conceit, and my conceptions with a
lofty and plumed eloquence. For this cause my dear reader, I will tell you,
that as those who engrave or cut precious stones, having their sight tired
by keeping it continually fixed upon the small lines of their work, are glad
to keep before them some fair emerald that by beholding it from time to time
they may be recreated with its greenness and restore their weakened sight to
its natural condition,so in this press of business which my office daily
draws upon me I have ever little projects of some treatise of piety, which I
look at when I can, to revive and unweary my mind.

However, I do not profess myself a writer; for the dulness of my spirit and
the condition of my life, subject to the service and requirements of many,
would not permit me so to be. Wherefore I have written very little and have
published much less, and following the counsel and will of my friends I will
tell you what I have written that you may not attribute the praises of
another's labours to him who deserves none for his own.

It is now nineteen years since that, being at Thonon, a small town situated
upon the Lake of Geneva, which was then being little by little converted to
the Catholic faith, the minister, an adversary of the Church, was
proclaiming everywhere that the Catholic article of the real presence of our
Saviour's body in the Eucharist destroyed the symbol and the analogy of
faith (for he was glad to mouth this word analogy not understood by his
auditors, in order to appear very learned; and upon this the rest of the
Catholic preachers with whom I was pressed me to write something in
refutation of this vanity. I did what seemed suitable, framing a brief
meditation upon the Creed to confirm the truth: all the copies were
distributed in this diocese where now I find not one of them.

Soon afterwards his Highness came over the mountains, and finding the
bailiwicks of Chablais, Gaillard and Ternier, which are in the environs of
Geneva, well disposed to receive the Catholic faith which had been banished
thence by force of wars and revolts about seventy years before, he resolved
to re-establish the exercise thereof in all the parishes, and to abolish
that of heresy, and whereas on the one side there were many obstacles to
this great blessing from those considerations which are called reasons of
State, and on the other side some persons as yet not well instructed in the
truth made resistance against this so much-desired establishment, his
Highness surmounted the first difficulty by the invincible constancy of his
zeal for the Catholic religion, and the second by an extraordinary
gentleness and prudence. For he had the chief and most obstinate called
together, and made a speech unto them with so lovingly persuasive an
eloquence that almost all, vanquished by the sweet violence of his fatherly
love towards them, cast the weapons of their obstinacy at his feet, and
their souls into the hands of Holy Church.

And allow me, my dear readers I pray you, to say this word in passing. One
may praise many rich actions of this great Prince, in which I see the proof
of his valour and military knowledge, which with just cause is admired
through all Europe. But for my part I cannot sufficiently extol the
re-establishment of the Catholic religion in these three bailiwicks which I
have just mentioned, having seen in it so many marks of piety, united with
so many and various acts of prudence, constancy, magnanimity, justice and
mildness, that I seemed to see in this one little trait, as in a miniature,
all that is praised in princes who have in times past with most fervour
striven to advance the glory of God and the Church. The stage was small, but
the action great. And as that ancient craftsman was never so much esteemed
for his great pieces as he was admired for making a ship of ivory fitted
with all its gear, in so tiny a volume that the wings of a bee covered all,
so I esteem more that which this great Prince did at that time in this small
corner of his dominions, than many more brilliant actions which others extol
to the heavens.

Now on this occasion the victorious ensigns of the cross were replanted in
all the ways and public places of those quarters, and whereas a little
before there had been one erected very solemnly at Annemasse close to
Geneva, a certain minister made a little treatise against the honour
thereof, which was a burning and venomous invective, and to which therefore
it was deemed fit to make answer. My Lord Claude de Granier, my predecessor,
whose memory is in benediction, imposed the burden upon me according to the
power which he had over me, who beheld him not only as my Bishop but also as
a holy servant of God. I made therefore this answer, under the title:
Defence of the Standard of the Cross, and dedicated it to his Highness,
partly to testify unto him my most humble submission, and partly to render
him some small thanksgiving for the care which he took of the Church in
those parts.

Now lately this Defence has been reprinted under the prodigious title of
Panthalogy, or Treasure of the Cross: a title whereof I never dreamed, as in
truth I am not a man of that study and leisure, nor of that memory, to be
able to put together so many pieces of worth in one book as to let it
deserve the name of Treasure or Panthalogy, besides I have a horror of such
insolent frontispieces:

A sot, or senseless creature we him call,

Who makes his portal greater than his hall.

In the year 1602, were celebrated at Paris, where I was, the obsequies of
that magnanimous prince Philip Emanuel of Lorraine, Duke of Mercœur, who had
performed so many brave exploits against the Turks in Hungary that all
Christianity was bound to conspire to honour his memory. But especially
Madam Mary of Luxembourg, his widow, did for her part all that her heart and
the love of the deceased could suggest to her to make his funeral solemn.
And because my father, grandfather, and great grandfather had been brought
up pages to the most illustrious princes of Martigues her father and his
predecessors, she regarded me as an hereditary servant of her house; and
made choice of me to preach the funeral sermon in that great celebration,
where there were not only several Cardinals and Prelates but a number of
princes also, princesses, marshals of France, knights of the Order, [20] and
even the Court of Parliament in a body. I made then this funeral oration and
pronounced it in this great assembly in the great Church of Paris, and as it
contained a true abridgment of the heroic feats of the deceased prince, I
willingly had it printed, at the request of the widow-princess, whose
request was to me a law. I dedicated this piece to Madam the Duchess of
Vend´me, as yet a girl, and a very young princess, yet one in whom were very
clearly to be recognized the signs of that excellent virtue and piety which
now adorn her, and which show her to be worthy of the bringing forth and
educating by so devout and pious a mother.

While this sermon was in the press, I heard that I had been made Bishop, so
that I came here to be consecrated and to begin residence. And at first
there was pointed out to me the necessity of instructing Confessors on some
important points. For this reason I wrote twenty-five instructions, which I
had printed to get them more easily spread amongst those to whom I directed
them; since then they have been reprinted in various places.

Three or four years afterwards I published the Introduction to a Devout
Life, upon the occasion and in the manner which I have put down in the
preface thereof: regarding which I have nothing to say to you, my dear
reader, save only that though this little book has generally had a gracious
and kind acceptance, yes even amongst the most grave prelates and doctors of
the Church, yet it did not escape the rude censure of some who did not
merely blame me but bitterly attacked me in public because I tell Philothea
that dancing is an action indifferent in itself, and that for recreation's
sake one may make quodlibets; and I, knowing the quality of these censors,
praise their intention which I think was good. I should have desired them
however to please to consider that the first proposition is drawn from the
common and true doctrine of the most holy and learned divines, that I was
writing for such as live in the world and in courts; that withal I carefully
inculcate the extreme dangers which are found in dancing;and that as to the
second proposition it is not mine, but S. Louis's, that admirable king, a
doctor worthy to be followed in the art of rightly conducting courtiers to a
devout life. For, I believe if they had weighed this, their charity and
discretion would never have permitted their zeal, how vigorous and austere
soever, to arm their indignation against me.

And therefore, my dear reader, I conjure you to be gracious and good to me
in reading this Treatise. And if you find the style a little (though I am
sure it will be but a very little) different from that which I used in the
Defence of the Cross, know that in nineteen years one learns and unlearns
many things, that the language of war differs from that of peace, and that a
man uses one manner of speech to young apprentices and another to old
fellow-craftsmen.

My purpose here is to speak to souls that are advanced in devotion. For you
must know that we have in this town a congregation of maidens and widows
who, having retired from the world, live with one mind in God's service,
under the protection of his most holy Mother, and as their purity and piety
of spirit have oftentimes given me great consolation, so have I striven to
return them the like by a frequent distribution of the holy word which I
have announced to them as well in public sermons as in spiritual
conferences, and this almost always in presence of some religious men and
people of great piety. Hence I have often had to treat of the most delicate
sentiments of piety, passing beyond that which I had said to Philothea: and
I owe a good part of that which now I communicate to you to this blessed
Society because she who is the mother of them and rules them, knowing that I
was writing upon this subject, and yet that scarcely was I able to
accomplish it without God's very special assistance, and their continual
urging, took a constant care to pray and get prayers for this end, and
holily conjured me to pick out all the little morsels of leisure which she
judged might be spared here and there from the press of my hindrances and to
employ them in this. And because this soul is in that consideration with me
which God knows, she has had no little power to animate me in this occasion.
I began indeed long ago to think of writing on holy love, but that thought
came far short of what this occasion has made me produce, an occasion which
I declare to you thus simply and in good faith, in imitation of the
ancients, that you may know that I write only as I get the chance and
opportunity, and that I may find you more favourable. It is said amongst the
Pagans that Phidias never represented anything so perfectly as the gods, nor
Apelles as Alexander. One is not always equally successful: if I fall short
in this treatise, let your goodness make progress and God will bless your
reading.

To this end I have dedicated this work to the Mother of dilection and to the
Father of cordial love, as I dedicated the Introduction to the Divine child
who is the Saviour of lovers and the love of the saved. And as women, while
they are strong and able to bring forth their children with ease, choose
commonly their worldly friends to be godfathers, but when their feebleness
and indisposition make their delivery hard and dangerous invoke the saints
of heaven, and vow to have their children stood to by some poor body or by
some devout soul in the name of S. Joseph, S. Francis of Assisi, S. Francis
of Paula, S. Nicholas, or some other of the blessed, who may obtain of God
their safe delivery and that the child may be born alive:so I, while I was
not yet bishop, having more leisure and less fears for my writings,
dedicated my little works to princes of the earth, but now being weighed
down with my charge, and having a thousand difficulties in writing, I
consecrate all to the princes of heaven, that they may obtain for me the
light requisite, and that if such be the Divine will, these my writings may
be fruitful and profitable to many.

Thus my dear reader I beseech God to bless you and to enrich you with his
love. Meanwhile from my very heart I submit all my writings, my words and
actions to the correction of the most holy Catholic, Apostolic, and Roman
Church, knowing that she is the pillar and ground of truth, [21] wherein she
can neither be deceived nor deceive us, and that none can have God for his
father who will not have this Church for his mother.






Annecy, the day of the most loving Apostles

S. Peter and S. Paul. 1616.




Blessed be God.
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[15] Cant. iv.

[16] Ps. lxvii. 14.

[17] M. Camus.

[18] 1 Cor. i. 27.

[19] Cant. iv. 9.

[20] Of the Holy Spirit. (Tr.)

[21] 1 Tim. iii. 15.
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THE LOVE OF GOD.
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BOOK I.

CONTAINING A

PREPARATION FOR THE WHOLE TREATISE.
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CHAPTER I.

THAT FOR THE BEAUTY OF HUMAN NATURE GOD HAS GIVEN THE GOVERNMENT OF ALL THE
FACULTIES OF THE SOUL TO THE WILL.

Union in distinction makes order; order produces agreement; and proportion
and agreement, in complete and finished things, make beauty. An army has
beauty when it is composed of parts so ranged in order that their
distinction is reduced to that proportion which they ought to have together
for the making of one single army. For music to be beautiful, the voices
must not only be true, clear, and distinct from one another, but also united
together in such a way that there may arise a just consonance and harmony
which is not unfitly termed a discordant harmony or rather harmonious
discord.

Now as the angelic S. Thomas, following the great S. Denis, says excellently
well, beauty and goodness though in some things they agree, yet still are
not one and the same thing: for good is that which pleases the appetite and
will, beauty that which pleases the understanding or knowledge; or, in other
words, good is that which gives pleasure when we enjoy it, beauty that which
gives pleasure when we know it. For which cause in proper speech we only
attribute corporal beauty to the objects of those two senses which are the
most intellectual and most in the service of the understandingnamely, sight
and hearing, so that we do not say, these are beautiful odours or beautiful
tastes: but we rightly say, these are beautiful voices and beautiful
colours.

The beautiful then being called beautiful, because the knowledge thereof
gives pleasure, it is requisite that besides the union and the distinction,
the integrity, the order, and the agreement of its parts, there should be
also splendour and brightness that it may be knowable and visible. Voices to
be beautiful must be clear and true; discourses intelligible; colours
brilliant and shining. Obscurity, shade and darkness are ugly and disfigure
all things, because in them nothing is knowable, neither order, distinction,
union nor agreement; which caused S. Denis to say, that "God as the
sovereign beauty is author of the beautiful harmony, beautiful lustre and
good grace which is found in all things, making the distribution and
decomposition of his one ray of beauty spread out, as light, to make all
things beautiful," willing that to compose beauty there should be agreement,
clearness and good grace.

Certainly, Theotimus, beauty is without effect, unprofitable and dead, if
light and splendour do not make it lively and effective, whence we term
colours lively when they have light and lustre.

But as to animated and living things their beauty is not complete without
good grace, which, besides the agreement of perfect parts which makes
beauty, adds the harmony of movements, gestures and actions, which is as it
were the life and soul of the beauty of living things. Thus, in the
sovereign beauty of our God, we acknowledge union, yea, unity of essence in
the distinction of persons, with an infinite glory, together with an
incomprehensible harmony of all perfections of actions and motions,
sovereignly comprised, and as one would say excellently joined and adjusted,
in the most unique and simple perfection of the pure divine act, which is
God Himself, immutable and invariable, as elsewhere we shall show.

God, therefore, having a will to make all things good and beautiful, reduced
the multitude and distinction of the same to a perfect unity, and, as man
would say, brought them all under a monarchy, making a subordination of one
thing to another and of all things to himself the sovereign Monarch. He
reduces all our members into one body under one head, of many persons he
forms a family, of many families a town, of many towns a province, of many
provinces a kingdom, putting the whole kingdom under the government of one
sole king. So, Theotimus, over the innumerable multitude and variety of
actions, motions, feelings, inclinations, habits, passions, faculties and
powers which are in man, God has established a natural monarchy in the will,
which rules and commands all that is found in this little world: and God
seems to have said to the will as Pharao said to Joseph: Thou shalt be over
my house, and at the commandment of thy mouth all the people shall obey.
[22] This dominion of the will is exercised indeed in very various ways.

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[22] Gen. xli. 40.
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CHAPTER II.

HOW THE WILL VARIOUSLY GOVERNS THE POWERS OF THE SOUL.

A Father directs his wife, his children and his servants by his ordinances
and commandments, which they are obliged to obey though they are able not to
obey; but if he have servants and slaves, he rules them by force which they
have no power to contradict; his horses, oxen and mules he manages by
industry, binding, bridling, goading, shutting in, or letting out.

Now the will governs the faculty of our exterior motion as a serf or slave:
for unless some external thing hinder, it never fails to obey. We open and
shut our mouth, move our tongue, our hands, feet, eyes, and all the members
to which the power of this movement refers without resistance, according to
our wish and will.

But as for our senses and the faculties of nourishing, growing, and
producing, we cannot with the same ease govern them, but we must employ
industry and art. If a slave be called he comes, if he be told to stop, he
stops; but we must not expect this obedience from a sparrowhawk or falcon:
he that desires it should return to the hand must show it the lure; if he
would keep it quiet he must hood it. We bid our servant turn to the right or
left hand and he does it, but to make a horse so turn we must make use of
the bridle. We must not, Theotimus, command our eyes not to see, our ears
not to hear, our hands not to touch, our stomach not to digest, or our body
not to grow, for these faculties not having intelligence are not capable of
obedience. No one can add a cubit to his stature. We often eat without
nourishing ourselves or growing; he that will prevail with these powers must
use industry. A physician who has to do with a child in the cradle commands
him nothing, but only gives orders to the nurse to do such and such things,
or else perchance he prescribes for the nurse to eat this or that meat, to
take such and such medicine. This infuses its qualities into the milk which
enters the child's body, and the physician accomplishes his will in this
little weakling who has not even the power to think of it. We must not give
the orders of abstinence, sobriety or continency unto the palate or stomach,
but the hands must be commanded only to furnish to the mouth meat and drink
in such and such a measure, we take away from or give our faculties their
object and subject, and the food which strengthens them, as reason requires.
If we desire our eyes not to see we must turn them away, or cover them with
their natural hood, and shut them, and by these means we may bring them to
the point which the will desires. It would be folly to command a horse not
to wax fat, not to grow, not to kick,to effect all this, stop his corn; you
must not command him, you must simply make him do as you wish.

The will also exercises a certain power over the understanding and memory,
for of many things which the understanding has power to understand and the
memory has power to remember, the will determines those to which she would
have her faculties apply themselves, or from which divert themselves. It is
true she cannot manage or range them so absolutely as she does the hands,
feet or tongue, on account of the sensitive faculties, especially the fancy,
which do not obey the will with a prompt and infallible obedience, and which
are necessarily required for the operations of the understanding and memory:
but yet the will moves, employs and applies these faculties at her pleasure
though not so firmly and constantly that the light and variable fancy does
not often divert and distract them, so that as the Apostle cries out: I do
not the good which I desire, but the evil which I hate. [23] So we are often
forced to complain that we think not of the good which we love, but the evil
which we hate.

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[23] Rom. vii. 15.
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CHAPTER III.

HOW THE WILL GOVERNS THE SENSUAL APPETITE.

The will then, Theotimus, bears rule over the memory, understanding and
fancy, not by force but by authority, so that she is not infallibly obeyed
any more than the father of a family is always obeyed by his children and
servants. It is the same as regards the sensitive appetite, which, as S.
Augustine says, is called in us sinners concupiscence, and is subject to the
will and understanding as the wife to her husband, because as it was said to
the woman: Be under thy husband, and he shall have dominion over thee, [24]
so was it said to Cain, that the lust of sin should be under him and he
should have dominion over it. [25] And this being under means nothing else
than being submitted and subjected to him. "O man," says S. Bernard, "it is
in thy power if thou wilt to bring thy enemy to be thy servant so that all
things may go well with thee; thy appetite is under thee and thou shalt
domineer over it. Thy enemy can move in thee the feeling of temptation, but
it is in thy power if thou wilt to give or refuse consent. In case thou
permit thy appetite to carry thee away to sin, then thou shalt be under it,
and it shall domineer over thee, for whosoever sinneth is made the servant
of sin, but before thou sinnest, so long as sin gets not entry into thy
consent, but only into thy sense, that is to say, so long as it stays in the
appetite, not going so far as thy will, thy appetite is subject unto thee
and thou lord over it." Before the Emperor is created he is subject to the
electors' dominion, in whose hands it is to reject him or to elect him to
the imperial dignity; but being once elected and elevated by their means,
henceforth they are under him and he rules over them. Before the will
consents to the appetite, she rules over it, but having once given consent
she becomes its slave.

To conclude, this sensual appetite in plain truth is a rebellious subject,
seditious, restive, and we must confess we cannot so defeat it that it does
not rise again, encounter and assault the reason; yet the will has such a
strong hand over it that she is able, if she please, to bridle it, break its
designs and repulse it, since not to consent to its suggestions is a
sufficient repulse. We cannot hinder concupiscence from conceiving, but we
can from bringing forth and accomplishing, sin.

Now this concupiscence or sensual appetite has twelve movements, by which as
by so many mutinous captains it raises sedition in man. And because
ordinarily they trouble the soul and disquiet the body; insomuch as they
trouble the soul, they are called perturbations, insomuch as they disquiet
the body they are named passions, as S. Augustine declares. They all place
before themselves good or evil, the former to obtain, the latter to avoid.
If good be considered in itself according to its natural goodness it excites
love, the first and principal passion; if good be regarded as absent it
provokes us to desire; if being desired we think we are able to obtain it we
enter into hope; if we think we cannot obtain it we feel despair; but when
we possess it as present, it moves us to joy.

On the contrary, as soon as we discover evil we hate it, if it be absent we
fly it, if we cannot avoid it we fear it; if we think we can avoid it we
grow bold and courageous, but if we feel it as present we grieve; and then
anger and wrath suddenly rush forth to reject and repel the evil or at least
to take vengeance for it. If we cannot succeed we remain in grief. But if we
repulse or avenge it we feel satisfaction and satiation, which is a pleasure
of triumph, for as the possession of good gladdens the heart, so the victory
over evil exalts the spirits. And over all this multitude of sensual
passions the will bears empire, rejecting their suggestions, repulsing their
attacks, hindering their effects, or at the very least sternly refusing them
consent, without which they can never harm us, and by refusing which they
remain vanquished, yea in the long run broken down, weakened, worn out,
beaten down, and if not altogether dead, at least deadened or mortified.

And Theotimus, this multitude of passions is permitted to reside in our soul
for the exercise of our will in virtue and spiritual valour; insomuch that
the Stoics who denied that passions were found in wise men greatly erred,
and so much the more because they practised in deeds what in words they
denied, as S. Augustine shows, recounting this agreeable history. Aulus
Gellius having gone on sea with a famous Stoic, a great tempest arose, at
which the Stoic being frightened began to grow pale, to blench and to
tremble so sensibly that all in the boat perceived it, and watched him
curiously, although they were in the same hazard with him. In the meantime
the sea grew calm, the danger passed, and safety restoring to each the
liberty to talk and even to rally one another, a certain voluptuous Asiatic
reproached him with his fear, which had made him aghast and pale at the
danger, whereas the other on the contrary had remained firm and without
fear. To this the Stoic replied by relating what Aristippus, a Socratic
philosopher, had answered a man, who for the same reason had attacked him
with the like reproach; saying to him: As for thee, thou hadst no reason to
be troubled for the soul of a wicked rascal: but I should have done myself
wrong not to have feared to lose the life of an Aristippus. And the value of
the story is, that Aulus Gellius, an eye-witness, relates it. But as to the
Stoic's reply contained therein, it did more commend his wit than his cause,
since bringing forward this comrade in his fear, he left it proved by two
irreproachable witnesses, that Stoics were touched with fear, and with the
fear which shows its effects in the eyes, face and behaviour, and is
consequently a passion.

A great folly, to wish to be wise with an impossible wisdom Truly the Church
has condemned the folly of that wisdom which certain presumptuous Anchorites
would formally have introduced, against which the whole Scripture but
especially the great Apostle, cries out: We have a law in our body which
resisteth the law of our mind. [26] "Amongst us Christians," says the great
S. Augustine, "according to holy Scripture and sound doctrine, the citizens
of the sacred city of Gods living according to God, in the pilgrimage of
this world fear, desire, grieve, rejoice." Yea even the sovereign King of
this city has feared, desired, has grieved and rejoiced, even to tears,
wanness, trembling, sweating of blood; though in him as these were not the
motions of passions like ours, the great S. Jerome, and after him the School
durst not use the name, passions, for reverence of the person in whom they
were, but the respectful name, pro-passions. This was to testify that
sensible movements in Our Saviour held the place of passions, though they
were not such indeed, seeing that he suffered or endured nothing from them
except what seemed good to him and as he pleased, which we sinners cannot
do, who suffer and endure these motions with disorder, against our wills, to
the great prejudice of the good estate and polity of our soul.

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[24] Gen. iii. 16.

[25] Ib.iv. 7.

[26] Rom. vii. 23.
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CHAPTER IV.

THAT LOVE RULES OVER ALL THE AFFECTIONS, AND PASSIONS, AND EVEN GOVERNS THE
WILL, ALTHOUGH THE WILL HAS ALSO A DOMINION OVER IT.

Love being the first complacency which we take in good, as we shall
presently show, it of course precedes desire; and indeed what other thing do
we desire, but that which we love? It precedes delectation, for how could we
rejoice in the enjoyment of a thing if we loved it not? It precedes hope,
for we hope only for the good which we love: it precedes hatred, for we hate
not evil, except for the love we have for good: nor is evil evil but because
it is contrary to good. And, Theotimus, it is the same with all the other
passions and affections; for they all proceed from love, as from their
source and root.

For which cause the other passions and affections, are good or bad, vicious
or virtuous, according as the love whence they proceed is good or bad; for
love so spreads over them her own qualities, that they seem to be no other
than this same love. S. Augustine reducing all these passions and affections
to four, as did also Boetius, Cicero, Virgil, with the greatest part of the
ancients:"Love," says he, "tending to the possession of what it loves, is
termed concupiscence or desire; having and possessing it it is called joy;
flying that which is contrary to it, it is named fear; but if this really
seizes it and it feels it, love is named grief, and consequently these
passions are evil if the love be evil, good if it be good. The citizens of
the heavenly city fear, desire, grieve, love, and because their love is
just, all their affections are also just. Christian doctrine subjects the
reason to God that he may guide and help it, and subjects all these passions
to the spirit, that it may bridle and moderate them and so convert them to
the service of justice and virtue. The right will is good love, the bad will
is evil love;" [27] that is to say, in a word, Theotimus, love has such
dominion over the will as to make it exactly such as it is itself.

The wife ordinarily changes her condition into that of her husband, becoming
noble if he be noble, queen if he be king, duchess if he be duke. The will
also changes her condition according to the love she espouses; if this be
carnal she becomes carnal, if this be spiritual she is spiritual, and all
the affections of desire, joy, hope, fear, grief, as children born of the
marriage between love and the will, consequently receive their qualities
from love. In short, Theotimus, the will is only moved by her affections,
amongst which love, as the primum mobile and first affection, gives motion
to all the rest, and causes all the other motions of the soul.

But it does not follow hence that the will does not also rule over love,
seeing that the will only loves while willing to love, and that of many
loves which present themselves she can apply herself to which she pleases,
otherwise there would be no love either forbidden or commanded. She is then
mistress over her loves as a maiden over her suitors, amongst whom she may
make election of which she pleases. But as after marriage she loses her
liberty and of mistress becomes subject to her husband's power, remaining
taken by him whom she took, so the will which at her own pleasure made
election of love, after she has chosen one remains subject to it. And as the
wife is always subject to the husband whom she has chosen as long as he
lives, and if he die regains her former liberty to marry another, so while a
love lives in the will it reigns there, and the will is subject to its
movements, but if this love die she can afterwards take another. And again
there is a liberty in the will which the wife has not, and it is that the
will can reject her love at her pleasure, by applying her understanding to
motives which make it displeasing, and by taking a resolution to change the
object. For thus, to make divine love live and reign in us, we kill
self-love, and if we cannot entirely annihilate it at least we weaken it in
such a way that though it lives yet it does not reign in us. As, on the
contrary, in forsaking divine love we may adhere to that of creatures, which
is the infamous adultery with which the Divine lover so often reproaches
sinners.

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[27] De Civ. Dei, xiv. ix.
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CHAPTER V.

OF THE AFFECTIONS OF THE WILL.

There are no fewer movements in the intellectual or reasonable appetite
which is called the will, than there are in the sensitive or sensual, but
the first are customarily named affections, the latter passions. The
philosophers and pagans did in some manner love God, the state, virtue,
sciences; they hated vice, aspired after honours, despaired of escaping
death or calumny, were desirous of knowledge, yea even of beatitude after
death. They encouraged themselves to surmount the difficulties which cross
the way of virtue, dreaded blame, avoided some faults, avenged public
injuries, opposed tyrants, without any self-interest. Now all these
movements were seated in the reasonable part, since the senses, and
consequently, the sensual appetite, are not capable of being applied to
these objects, and therefore these movements were affections of the
intellectual or reasonable appetite, not passions of the sensual.

How often do we feel passions in the sensual appetite or concupiscence,
contrary to the affections which at the same time we perceive in the
reasonable appetite or will? How clearly was shown at one and the same time
the action of the pleasure of the senses and the displeasure of the will, in
that young martyr mentioned by S. Jerom, who, forced to bear the attacks of
sensuality, bit off a piece of his tongue and spat it in his tempter's face?
How often do we tremble amidst the dangers to which our will carries us and
in which it makes us remain? How often do we hate the pleasure in which the
sensual appetite takes delight, and love the spiritual good with which that
is disgusted? In this consists the war which we daily experience between the
spirit and the flesh: between our exterior man, which is under the senses,
and the interior which is under the reason; between the old Adam who follows
the appetites of his Eve, or concupiscence, and the new Adam who follows
heavenly wisdom and holy reason.

The Stoics, as S. Augustine remarks, [28] denying that the wise man can have
passions, appear to have confessed that he has affections, which they term
eupathies, or good passions, or, as Cicero called them, constancies: for
they said the wise man did not covet but desired, had not glee but joy; that
he had no fear, but only foresight and precaution, so that he was not moved
except by reason and according to reason: for this cause they peremptorily
denied that a wise man could ever be sorrowful, that being caused by present
evil, whereas no evil can befal a wise man, since no man is hurt but by
himself, according to their maxim. And truly, Theotimus, they were not wrong
in holding that there are eupathies and good affections in the reasonable
part of man, but they erred much in saying that there were no passions in
the sensitive part, and that sorrow did not touch a wise man's heart: for
omitting the fact that they themselves were troubled in this kind (as was
just said), how could it be that wisdom should deprive us of pity, which is
a virtuous sorrow and which comes into our hearts in order to make them
desire to deliver our neighbour from the evil which he endures? And the
wisest man of all paganism, Epictetus, did not hold this error that passions
do not rise in the wise man, as S. Augustine witnesses, showing further that
the Stoics' difference with other philosophers on this subject was but a
mere dispute of words and strife of language.

Now these affections which we feel in our reasonable part are more or less
noble and spiritual, according as their objects are more or less sublime,
and as they are in a more eminent department of the spirit: for there are
affections in us which proceed from conclusions gained by the experience of
our senses; others by reasonings from human sciences; others from principles
of faith; and finally there are some which have their origin from the simple
sentiment of the truth of God, and acquiescence in his will. The first are
called natural affections, for who is he that does not naturally desire
health, his provision of food and clothing, sweet and agreeable
conversation? The second class of affections are named reasonable, as being
altogether founded upon the spiritual knowledge of the reason, by which our
will is excited to seek tranquillity of heart, moral virtues, true honour,
the contemplation of eternal things. The third sort of affections are termed
Christian, because they issue from reasonings founded on the doctrine of Our
Lord, who makes us love voluntary Poverty, perfect Chastity, the glory of
heaven. But the affections of the supreme degree are named divine and
supernatural because God himself spreads them abroad in our spirits, and
because they regard God and aim at him, without the medium of any reasoning,
or any light of nature, as it will be easy to understand from what we shall
say afterwards about the acquiescences and affections which are made in the
sanctuary of the soul. And these supernatural affections are principally
three: the love of the mind for the beautiful in the mysteries of faith,
love for the useful in the goods which are promised us in the other life,
and love for the sovereign good of the most holy and eternal divinity.

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[28] De Civ. Dei, xiv.
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CHAPTER VI.

HOW THE LOVE OF GOD HAS DOMINION OVER OTHER LOVES.

The will governs all the other faculties of man's soul, yet it is governed
by its love which makes it such as its love is. Now of all loves that of God
holds the sceptre, and has the authority of commanding so inseparably united
to it and proper to its nature, that if it be not master it ceases to be and
perishes.

Ismael was not co-heir with Isaac his younger brother, Esau was appointed to
be his younger brother's servant, Joseph was adored, not only by his
brothers, but also by his father, yea, and by his mother also, in the person
of Benjamin, as he had foreseen in the dreams of his youth. Truly it is not
without mystery that the younger of these brethren thus bear away the
advantage from the elder. Divine love is indeed the last begotten of all the
affections of man's heart, for as the Apostle says: That which is animal is
first; afterwards that which is spiritual: [29]but this last born inherits
all the authority, and self-love, as another Esau is deputed to his service;
and not only all the other motions of the soul as his brethren adore him and
are subject to him, but also the understanding and will which are to him as
father and mother. All is subject to this heavenly love, who will either be
king or nothing, who cannot live unless he reign, nor reign if not
sovereignly.

Isaac, Jacob and Joseph were supernatural children; for their mothers,
Sarah, Rebecca and Rachel, being sterile by nature, conceived them by the
grace of the divine goodness, and for this cause they were established
masters of their brethren. Similarly, divine love is a child of miracle,
since man's will cannot conceive it if it be not poured into our hearts by
the Holy Ghost. And as supernatural it must rule and reign over all the
affections, yea, even over the understanding and will.

And although there are other supernatural movements in the soul,fear,
piety, force, hope,as Esau and Benjamin were supernatural children of
Rachel and Rebecca, yet is divine love still master, heir and superior, as
being the son of promise, since in virtue of it heaven is promised to man.
Salvation is shown to faith, it is prepared for hope, but it is given only
to charity. Faith points out the way to the land of promise as a pillar of
cloud and of fire, that is, light and dark; hope feeds us with its manna of
sweetness, but charity actually introduces us into it, as the Ark of
alliance, which makes for us the passage of the Jordan, that is, of the
judgment, and which shall remain amidst the people in the heavenly land
promised to the true Israelites, where neither the pillar of faith serves as
guide nor the manna of hope is used as food.

Divine love makes its abode in the most high and sublime region of the soul,
where it offers sacrifice and holocausts to the divinity as Abraham did, and
as our Saviour sacrificed himself upon the top of Calvary, to the end that
from so exalted a place it may be heard and obeyed by its people, that is,
by all the faculties and affections of the soul. These he governs with an
incomparable sweetness, for love has no convicts nor slaves, but brings all
things under its obedience with a force so delightful, that as nothing is so
strong as love nothing also is so sweet as its strength.

The virtues are in the soul to moderate its movements, and charity, as first
of all the virtues, governs and tempers them all, not only because the first
in every species of things serves as a rule and measure to the rest, but
also because God, having created man to his image and likeness, wills that
as in himself so in man all things should be ordered by love and for love.

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[29] 1 Cor. xv. 46.
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CHAPTER VII.

DESCRIPTION OF LOVE IN GENERAL.

The will has so great a sympathy with good that as soon as she perceives it
she turns towards it to delight therein as in her most agreeable object, to
which she is so closely allied that her nature cannot be explained except by
the relation she has thereto, just as one cannot show the nature of what is
good except by the affinity it has with the will. For, tell me, Theotimus,
what is good but that which every one wills. And what is the will, if not
the faculty which bears us towards and makes us tend to good or what the
will believes to be such?

The will then perceiving and feeling the good, by the help of the
understanding which proposes it, feels at the same time a sudden delight and
complacency at this meeting, which sweetly yet powerfully moves her towards
this pleasing object in order to unite herself with it, and makes her search
out the means most proper to attain this union.

The will then has a most close affinity with good; this affinity produces
the complacency which the will takes in feeling and perceiving good; this
complacency moves and spurs the will forward to good; this movement tends to
union; and in fine the will moved and tending to union searches out all the
means necessary to get it.

And in truth, speaking generally, love comprises all this together, as a
beautiful tree, whose root is the correspondence which the will has to good,
its foot is the complacency, its trunk is the movement, its seekings, its
pursuits, and other efforts are the branches, but union and enjoyment are
its fruits. Thus love seems to be composed of these five principal parts
under which a number of other little pieces are contained as we shall see in
the course of this work.

Let us consider, I pray you, the exercise of an insensible love between the
loadstone and iron; for it is the true image of the sensible and voluntary
love of which we speak. Iron, then, has such a sympathy with the loadstone
that as soon as it feels the power thereof, it turns towards it; then it
suddenly begins to stir and quiver with little throbbings, testifying by
this the complacency it feels, and then it advances and moves towards the
loadstone striving by all means possible to be united to it. Do you not see
all the parts of love well represented in these lifeless things?

But to conclude, Theotimus, the complacency and the movement towards, or
effusion of the will upon, the thing beloved is properly speaking love; yet
in such sort that the complacency is but the beginning of love, and the
movement or effusion of the heart which ensues is the true essential love,
so that the one and the other may truly be named love, but in a different
sense: for as the dawning of day may be termed day, so this first
complacency of the heart in the thing beloved may be called love because it
is the first feeling of love. But as the true heart of the day is measured
from the end of dawn till sunset, so the true essence of love consists in
the movement and effusion of the heart which immediately follows complacency
and ends in union. In short, complacency is the first stirring or emotion
which good causes in the will, and this emotion is followed by the movement
and effusion by which the soul runs towards and reaches the thing beloved,
which is the true and proper love. We may express it thus: the good takes,
grasps and ties the heart by complacency, but by love it draws, conducts and
conveys it to itself, by complacency it makes it start on its way, but by
love it makes it achieve the journey. Complacency is the awakener of the
heart, but love is its action; complacency makes it get up, but love makes
it walk. The heart spreads its wings by complacency but love is its flight.
Love then, to speak distinctly and precisely, is no other thing than the
movement, effusion and advancement of the heart towards good.

Many great persons have been of opinion that love is no other thing than
complacency itself, in which they have had much appearance of reason. For
not only does the movement of love take its origin from the complacency
which the heart feels at the first approach of good, and find its end in a
second complacency which returns to the heart by union with the thing
beloved,but further, it depends for its preservation on this complacency,
and can only subsist through it as through its mother and nurse; so that as
soon as the complacency ceases love ceases. And as the bee being born in
honey, feeds on honey, and only flies for honey, so love is born of
complacency, maintained by complacency, and tends to complacency. It is the
weight of things which stirs them, moves them, and stays them; it is the
weight of the stone that stirs it and moves it to its descent as soon as the
obstacles are removed; it is the same weight that makes it continue its
movement downwards; and finally it is the same weight that makes it stop and
rest as soon as it has reached its place. So it is with the complacency
which excites the will: this moves it, and this makes it repose in the thing
beloved when it has united itself therewith. This motion of love then having
its birth, preservation, and perfection dependent on complacency, and being
always inseparably joined thereto, it is no marvel that these great minds
considered love and complacency to be the same, though in truth love being a
true passion of the soul cannot be a simple complacency, but must needs be
the motion proceeding from it.

Now this motion caused by complacency lasts till the union or fruition.
Therefore when it tends to a present good, it does no more than push the
heart, clasp it, join, and apply it to the thing beloved, which by this
means it enjoys, and then it is called love of complacency, because as soon
as ever it is begotten of the first complacency it ends in the second, which
it receives in being united to its present object. But when the good towards
which the heart is turned, inclined, and moved is distant, absent or future,
or when so perfect a union cannot yet be made as is desired, then the motion
of love by which the heart tends, makes and aspires towards this absent
object, is properly named desire, for desire is no other thing than the
appetite, concupiscence, or cupidity for things we have not, but which
however we aim at getting.

There are yet certain other motions of love by which we desire things that
we neither expect nor aim at in any way, as when we say:Why am I not now in
heaven! I wish I were a king; I would to God I were younger; how I wish I
had never sinned, and the like. These indeed are desires, but imperfect
ones, which, to speak properly, I think, might be called wishings
(souhaits). And indeed these affections are not expressed like desires, for
when we express our true desires we say: I desire (Je desire): but when we
signify our imperfect desires we say: I should or I would desire (je
desirerois), or I should like. We may well say: I would desire to be young;
but we do not say: I desire to be young; seeing that this is not possible;
and this motion is called a wishing, or as the Scholastics term it a
velleity, which is nothing else but a commencement of willing, not followed
out, because the will, by reason of impossibility or extreme difficulty,
stops her motion, and ends it in this simple affection of a wish. It is as
though she said: this good which I behold and cannot expect to get is truly
very agreeable to me, and though I cannot will it nor hope for it, yet so my
affection stands, that if I could will or desire it, I would desire and will
it gladly.

In brief, these wishings or velleities are nothing else but a little love,
which may be called love of simple approbation, because the soul approves
the good she knows, and being unable to effectually desire she protests she
would willingly desire it, and that it is truly to be desired.

Nor is this all, Theotimus, for there are desires and velleities which are
yet more imperfect than those we have spoken of, forasmuch as their motions
are not stayed by reason of impossibility or extreme difficulty, but by
their incompatibility with other more powerful desires or willings; as when
a sick man desires to eat mushrooms or melons;though he may have them at
his order, yet he will not eat them, fearing thereby to make himself worse;
for who sees not that there are two desires in this man, the one to eat
mushrooms, the other to be cured? But because the desire of being cured is
the stronger, it blocks up and suffocates the other and hinders it from
producing any effect. Jephte wished to preserve his daughter, but this not
being compatible with his desire to keep his vow, he willed what he did not
wish, namely, to sacrifice his daughter, and wished what he did not will,
namely, to preserve his daughter. Pilate and Herod wished, the one to
deliver our Saviour, the other his precursor: but because these wishes were
incompatible with the desires, the one to please the Jews and C¦sar, the
other, Herodias and her daughter, these wishes were vain and fruitless. Now
in proportion as those things which are incompatible with our wishes are
less desirable, the wishes are more imperfect, since they are stopped and,
as it were, stifled by contraries so weak. Thus the wish which Herod had not
to behead S. John was more imperfect than that of Pilate to free our
Saviour. For the latter feared the calumny and indignation of the people and
of C¦sar; the other feared to disappoint one woman alone.

And these wishes which are hindered, not by impossibility, but by
incompatibility with stronger desires, are called indeed wishes and desires,
but vain, stifled and unprofitable ones. As to wishes of things impossible,
we say: I wish, but cannot; and of the wishes of possible things we say: I
wish, but will not.

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CHAPTER VIII.

WHAT KIND OF AFFINITY (CONVENANCE) IT IS WHICH EXCITES LOVE.

We say the eye sees, the ear hears, the tongue speaks, the understanding
reasons, the memory remembers, the will loves: but still we know well that
it is the man, to speak properly, who by divers faculties and different
organs works all this variety of operations. Man also then it is who by the
affective faculty named the will tends to and pleases himself in good, and
who has for it that great affinity which is the source and origin of love.
Now they have made a mistake who have believed that resemblance is the only
affinity which produces love. For who knows not that the most sensible old
men tenderly and dearly love little children, and are reciprocally loved by
them; that the wise love the ignorant, provided they are docile, and the
sick their physicians. And if we may draw any argument from the image of
love which is found in things without sense, what resemblance can draw the
iron towards the loadstone? Has not one loadstone more resemblance with
another or with another stone, than with iron which is of a totally
different species? And though some, to reduce all affinities to resemblance,
assure us that iron draws iron and the loadstone the loadstone, yet they are
unable to explain why the loadstone draws iron more powerfully than iron
does iron itself. But I pray you what similitude is there between lime and
water? or between water and a sponge? and yet both of them drink water with
a quenchless desire, testifying an excessive insensible love towards it. Now
it is the same in human love; for sometimes it takes more strongly amongst
persons of contrary qualities, than among those who are very like. The
affinity then which causes love does not always consist in resemblance, but
in the proportion, relation or correspondence between the lover and the
thing loved. For thus it is not resemblance which makes the doctor dear to
the sick man, but a correspondence of the one's necessity with the other's
sufficiency, in that the one can afford the assistance which the other
stands in need of: as again the doctor loves the sick man, and the master
his apprentice because they can exercise their powers on them. The old man
loves children, not by sympathy, but because the great simplicity,
feebleness and tenderness of the one exalts and makes more apparent the
prudence and stability of the other, and this dissimilitude is agreeable. On
the other hand, children love old men because they see them busy and careful
about them, and by secret instinct they perceive they have need of their
direction. Musical concord consists in a kind of discord, in which unlike
voices correspond, making up altogether one single multiplex proportion, as
the unlikeness of precious stones and flowers makes the agreeable
composition of enamel and diapry. Thus love is not caused always by
resemblance and sympathy, but by correspondence and proportion, which
consists in this that by the union of one thing to another they mutually
receive one another's perfection, and so become better. The head certainly
does not resemble the body, nor the hand the arm, yet they have such a
correspondence and join so naturally together that by their conjunction they
excellently perfect one the other. Wherefore, if these parts had each one a
distinct soul they would have a perfect mutual love, not by resemblance, for
they have none, but by their correspondence towards a mutual perfection. For
this cause the melancholy and the joyous, the sour and the sweet, have often
a correspondence of affection, by reason of the mutual impressions which
they receive one of another by which their humours are reciprocally
moderated.

But when this mutual correspondence is joined with resemblance, love without
doubt is engendered much more efficaciously; for resemblance being the true
image of unity, when two like things are united by a proportion to the same
end it seems rather to be unity than union.

The affinity then of the lover and the thing loved is the first source of
love, and this affinity consists in correspondence, which is nothing else
than a mutual relation, which makes things apt to unite in order to
communicate to one another some perfection. But this will be understood
better in the progress of our discourse.

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CHAPTER IX.

THAT LOVE TENDS TO UNION.

The great Solomon describes, in an admirably delicious manner, the loves of
the Saviour and the devout soul, in that divine work which for its excellent
sweetness is named the Canticle of Canticles. And to raise ourselves by a
more easy flight to the consideration of this spiritual love which is
exercised between God and us by the correspondence of the movements of our
hearts with the inspirations of his divine majesty, he makes use of a
perpetual representation of the loves of a chaste shepherd and a modest
shepherdess. Now making the spouse or bride begin first by manner of a
certain surprise of love, he first puts into her mouth this ejaculation: Let
him kiss me with the kiss of his mouth. [30] Notice, Theotimus, how the
soul, in the person of this shepherdess, has but the one aim, in the first
expression of her desire, of a chaste union with her spouse, protesting that
it is the only end of her ambition and the only thing she aspires after;
for, I pray you, what other thing would this first sigh intimate? Let him
kiss me with the kiss of his mouth.

A kiss from all ages as by natural instinct has been employed to represent
perfect love, that is, the union of hearts, and not without cause: we
express and make known our passions and the movements which our souls have
in common with the animals, by our eyes, eyebrows, forehead and the rest of
our countenance. Man is known by his look, [31] says the Scripture, and
Aristotle giving a reason why ordinarily it is only the faces of great men
that are portrayed,it is, says he, because the face shows what we are.

Yet we do not utter our discourse nor the thoughts which proceed from the
spiritual portion of our soul, which we call reason, and by which we are
distinguished from beasts, except by words, and consequently by help of the
mouth; insomuch that to pour out our soul and open out our heart is nothing
else but to speak. Pour out your hearts before God, [32] says the Psalmist,
that is, express and turn the affections of your hearts into words. And
Samuel's pious mother pronouncing her prayers so softly that one could
hardly discern the motion of her lips: I have poured out my soul before the
Lord, [33] said she. And thus one mouth is applied to another in kissing to
testify that we would desire to pour out one soul into the other, to unite
them reciprocally in a perfect union. For this reason, at all times and
amongst the most saintly men the world has had, the kiss has been a sign of
love and affection, and such use was universally made of it amongst the
ancient Christians as the great S. Paul testifies, when, writing to the
Romans and Corinthians, he says, Salute one another in a holy kiss. [34] And
as many declare, Judas in betraying Our Saviour made use of a kiss to
manifest him, because this divine Saviour was accustomed to kiss his
disciples when he met them; and not only his disciples but even little
children, whom he took lovingly in his arms; as he did him by whose example
he so solemnly invited his disciples to the love of their neighbour, whom
many think to have been S. Martial, as the Bishop Jansenius [35] says.

Thus then the kiss being a lively mark of the union of hearts, the spouse
who has no other aim in all her endeavours than to be united to her beloved,
Let him kiss me, says she, with the kiss of his mouth; as if she cried
out:so many sighs and inflamed darts which my love throws out will they
never impetrate that which my soul desires? I runAh! shall I never gain the
prize towards which I urge myself, which is to be united heart to heart,
spirit to spirit, to my God, my spouse my life? When will the hour come in
which I shall pour my soul into his heart, and he will pour his heart into
my soul, and thus happily united we shall live inseparable.

When the Holy Ghost would express a perfect love, he almost always employs
words expressing union or conjunction. And the multitude of believers, says
S. Luke, had but one heart and one soul. [36] Our Saviour prayed for all the
faithful that they all may be one. [37] S. Paul warns us to be careful to
preserve the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace." [38] These unities
of heart, of soul, and of spirit signify the perfection of love which joins
many souls in one. So it is said that Jonathan's soul was knit to David's,
that is to say, as the Scripture adds, He loved him as his own soul.1 [39]
The great Apostle of France (S. Denis) as well according to his own
sentiment as when giving that of his Hierotheus, writes a hundred times, I
think, in a single chapter of the De Nominibus Divinis, that love is
unifying, uniting, drawing together, embracing, collecting and bringing all
things to unity! S. Gregory Nazianzen and S. Augustine say that their
friends and they had but one soul, and Aristotle approving already in his
time this manner of speech: "When," says he, "we would express how much we
love our friends, we say his and my soul is but one." Hatred separates us,
and love brings us into one. The end then of love is no other thing than the
union of the lover and the thing loved.

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[30] Cant. i. 1.

[31] Eccli. xix. 26.

[32] lxi. 9.

[33] 1 Kings i. 15.

[34] Rom. xvi. 16; 1 Cor. xvi. 20.

[35] Of Ghent, uncle of the heretic, but himself an orthodox and esteemed
writer. (Tr.)

[36] Acts iv. 32.

[37] John xvii. 21.

[38] Eph. iv. 3.

[39] Kings xviii. 1.
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CHAPTER X.

THAT THE UNION TO WHICH LOVE ASPIRES IS SPIRITUAL.

We must, however, take notice that there are natural unions, as those of
similitude, consanguinity, and of cause and effect; and others which not
being natural may be termed voluntary; for though they be according to
Nature yet they are only made at our will: like that union which takes its
origin from benefitswhich undoubtedly unite him that receives them to the
giver,that of conversation, society and the like. Now natural union
produces love, and the love which it produces inclines us to another and
voluntary union, perfecting the natural. Thus the father and son, the mother
and daughter, or two brothers, being joined in a natural union by the
participation of the same blood, are excited by this union to love, and by
love are borne towards a union of will and spirit which may be called
voluntary, because although its foundation is natural, yet is its action
deliberate. In these loves produced by natural union we need look for no
other affinity than the union itself, by which Nature preventing the will,
obliges it to approve, to love, and to perfect the union it has already
made. But as to voluntary unions, which follow love, love is indeed their
effective cause, but they are its final cause, as being the only end and aim
of love. So that as love tends to union, even so union very often extends
and augments love: for love makes us seek the society of the beloved, and
this often nourishes and increases love; love causes a desire of nuptial
union, and this union reciprocally preserves and increases love, so that in
every sense it is true that love tends to union.

But to what kind of union does it tend? Did you not note, Theotimus, that
the sacred spouse expressed her desire of being united to her spouse by the
kiss, and that the kiss represents the spiritual union which is caused by
the reciprocal communication of souls? It is indeed the man who loves, but
he loves by his will, and therefore the end of his love is of the nature of
his will: but his will is spiritual, and consequently the union which love
aims at is spiritual also, and so much the more because the heart, which is
the seat and source of love, would not only not be perfected by union with
corporal things, but would be degraded.

It will not hence be inferred that there are not certain passions in man
which, as mistleto comes on trees by manner of excrescence and over-growth,
sprout up indeed amongst and about love. Nevertheless they are neither love,
nor any part of love, but excrescences and superfluities thereof, which are
so far from being suited to maintain or perfect love, that on the contrary
they greatly harm it, weaken it, and at last, if they be not cut away,
utterly ruin it: and here is the reason.

In proportion to the number of operations to which the soul applies herself
(whether of the same or of a different kind) she does them less perfectly
and vigorously: because being finite, her active virtue is also finite, so
that furnishing her activity to divers operations it is necessary that each
one of them have less thereof. Thus a man attentive to several things is
less attentive to each of them: we cannot quietly consider a person's
features with our sight, and at the same time give an exact hearing to the
harmony of a grand piece of music, nor at the same instant be attentive to
figure and to colour: if we are talking earnestly, we cannot attend to
anything else.

I am not ignorant of what is said concerning Caesar nor incredulous about
what so many great persons testify of Origen,that they could apply their
attention at the same time to several objects; yet every one confesses that
according to the measure they applied it to more objects it became less for
each one of them. There is then a difference between seeing, hearing and
understanding more, and seeing, hearing, and understanding better, for he
that sees better, sees less, and he that sees more, sees not so well: it is
rare for those who know much to know well what they know, because the virtue
and force of the understanding being scattered upon the knowledge of divers
things is less strong and vigorous than when it is restrained to the
consideration of one only object. Hence it is that when the soul employs her
forces in divers operations of love, the action so divided is less vigorous
and perfect. We have three sorts of actions of love, the spiritual, the
reasonable, and the sensitive; when love exerts its forces through all these
three operations, doubtless it is more extended but less intense, but when
through one operation only, it is more intense though less extended. Do we
not see that fire, the symbol of love, forced to make its way out by the
mouth of the cannon alone, makes a prodigious flash, which would have been
much less if it had found vent by two or three passages? Since then love is
an act of our will, he that desires to have it, not only noble and generous,
but also very vigorous and active, must contain the virtue and force of it
within the limits of spiritual operations, for he that would apply it to the
operations of the sensible or sensitive part of our soul, would so far forth
weaken the intellectual operations, in which essential love consists.

The ancient philosophers have recognized that there are two sorts of
ecstasies of which the one raises us above ourselves, the other degrades us
below ourselves: as though they would say that man was of a nature between
angels and beasts: in his intellectual part sharing the angelical nature,
and in his sensitive the nature of beasts; and yet that he could by the acts
of his life and by a continual attention to himself, deliver and emancipate
himself from this mean condition, and habituating himself much to
intellectual actions might bring himself nearer to the nature of angels than
of beasts. If however he did much apply himself to sensible actions, he
descended from his middle state and approached that of beasts: and because
an ecstasy is no other thing than a going out of oneself, whether one go
upwards or downwards he is truly in an ecstasy. Those then who, touched with
intellectual and divine pleasures, let their hearts be carried away by those
feelings, are truly out of themselves, that is, above the condition of their
nature, but by a blessed and desirable out-going, by which entering into a
more noble and eminent estate, they are as much angels by the operation of
their soul as men by the substance of their nature, and are either to be
called human angels or angelic men. On the contrary, those who, allured by
sensual pleasures give themselves over to the enjoying of them, descend from
their middle condition to the lowest of brute beasts, and deserve as much to
be called brutal by their operations as men by nature: miserable in thus
going out of themselves only to enter into a condition infinitely unworthy
of their natural state.

Now according as the ecstasy is greater, either above us or below us, by so
much more it hinders the soul from returning to itself, and from doing
operations contrary to the ecstasy in which it is. So those angelic men who
are ravished in God and heavenly things, lose altogether, as long as their
ecstasy lasts, the use and attention of the senses, movement, and all
exterior actions, because their soul, in order to apply its power and
activity more entirely and attentively to that divine object, retires and
withdraws them from all its other faculties, to turn them in that direction.
And in like manner brutish men give up all the use of their reason and
understanding to bury themselves in sensual pleasure. The first mystically
imitate Elias taken up in the fiery chariot amid the angels: the others
Nabuchodonosor brutalized and debased to the rank of savage beasts.

Now I say that when the soul practises love by actions which are sensual,
and which carry her below herself, it is impossible that thereby the
exercise of her superior love, should not be so much the more weakened. So
that true and essential love is so far from being aided and preserved by the
union to which sensual love tends, that it is impaired, dissipated and
ruined by it. Job's oxen ploughed the ground, while the useless asses fed by
them, eating the pasture due to the labouring oxen. While the intellectual
part of our soul is employed in honest and virtuous love of some worthy
object, it comes to pass oftentimes that the senses and faculties of the
inferior part tend to the union which they are adapted to, and which is
their pasture, though union only belongs to the heart and to the spirit,
which also is alone able to produce true and substantial love.

Eliseus having cured Naaman the Syrian was satisfied with having done him a
service, and refused his gold, his silver and the goods he offered him, but
his faithless servant Giezi, running after him, demanded and took, against
his master's pleasure, that which he had refused. Intellectual and cordial
love, which certainly either is or should be master in our heart, refuses
all sorts of corporal and sensible unions, and is contented with goodwill
only, but the powers of the sensitive part, which are or should be the
handmaids of the spirit, demand, seek after and take that which reason
refused, and without leave make after their abject and servile love,
dishonouring, like Giezi, the purity of the intention of their master, the
spirit. And in proportion as the soul turns herself to such gross and
sensible unions, so far does she divert herself from the delicate,
intellectual and cordial union.

You see then plainly, Theotimus, that these unions which tend to animal
complacency and passions are so far from producing or preserving love that
they greatly hurt it and render it extremely weak.

Basil, rosemary, marigold, hyssop, cloves, chamomile, nutmeg, lemon, and
musk, put together and incorporated, yield a truly delightful odour by the
mixture of their good perfume; yet not nearly so much as does the water
which is distilled from them, in which the sweets of all these ingredients
separated from their bodies are mingled in a much more excellent manner,
uniting in a most perfect scent, which penetrates the sense of smelling far
more strongly than it would do if with it and its water the bodies of the
ingredients were found mingled and united. So love may be found in the
unions proper to the sensual powers, mixed with the unions of intellectual
powers, but never so excellently as when the spirits and souls alone,
separated from all corporeal affections but united together, make love pure
and spiritual. For the scent of affections thus mingled is not only sweeter
and better, but more lively, more active and more essential.

True it is that many having gross, earthly and vile hearts rate the value of
love like that of gold pieces, the most massive of which are the best, and
most current; for so their idea is that brutish love is more strong, because
it is more violent and turbulent, more solid, because more gross and
terrene, greater, because more sensible and fierce:but on the contrary,
love is like fire, which is of clearer and fairer flame as its matter is
more delicate, which cannot be more quickly extinguished than by beating it
down and covering it with earth; for, in like manner, by how much more
exalted and spiritual the subject of love is, by so much its actions are
more lively, subsistent and permanent: nor is there a more easy way to ruin
love than to debase it to vile and earthly unions. "There is this
difference," says S. Gregory, "between spiritual and corporal pleasures,
that corporal ones beget a desire before we obtain them, and a disgust when
we have obtained them; but spiritual ones, on the contrary, are not cared
for when we have them not, but are desired when we have them."

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CHAPTER XI.

THAT THERE ARE TWO PORTIONS IN THE SOUL, AND HOW.

We have but one soul, Theotimus, and an indivisible one; but in that one
soul there are various degrees of perfection, for it is living, sensible and
reasonable; and according to these different degrees it has also different
properties and inclinations by which it is moved to the avoidance or to the
acceptance of things. For first, as we see that the vine hates, so to speak
and avoids the cabbage, so that the one is pernicious to the other; and, on
the contrary, is delighted in the olive:so we perceive a natural opposition
between man and the serpent, so great that a man's fasting spittle is mortal
to the serpent: on the contrary, man and the sheep have a wondrous affinity,
and are agreeable one to the other. Now this inclination does not proceed
from any knowledge that the one has of the hurtfulness of its contrary, or
of the advantage of the one with which it has affinity, but only from a
certain occult and secret quality which produces this insensible opposition
and antipathy, or this complacency and sympathy.

Secondly, we have in us the sensitive appetite, whereby we are moved to the
seeking and avoiding many things by the sensitive knowledge we have of them;
not unlike to the animals, some of which have an appetite to one thing, some
to another, according to the knowledge which they have that it suits them or
not. In this appetite resides, or from it proceeds, the love which we call
sensual or brutish, which yet properly speaking ought not to be termed love
but simply appetite.

Thirdly, inasmuch as we are reasonable, we have a will, by which we are led
to seek after good, according as by reasoning we know or judge it to be
such. Now in our soul, taken as reasonable, we manifestly observe two
degrees of perfection, which the great S. Augustine, and after him all the
doctors, have named two portions of the soul, inferior and superior. That is
called inferior which reasons and draws conclusions according to what it
learns and experiences by the senses; and that is called superior, which
reasons and draws conclusions according to an intellectual knowledge not
grounded upon the experience of sense, but on the discernment and judgment
of the spirit. This superior part is called the spirit and mental part of
the soul, as the inferior is termed commonly, sense, feeling, and human
reason.

Now this superior part can reason according to two sorts of lights; either
according to natural light, as the philosophers and all those who have
reasoned by science did; or according to supernatural light, as do
theologians and Christians, since they establish their reasoning upon faith
and the revealed word of God, and still more especially those whose spirit
is conducted by particular illustrations, inspirations, and heavenly
motions. This is what S. Augustine said, namely, that it is by the superior
portion of the soul that we adhere and apply ourselves to the observance of
the eternal law.

Jacob, pressed by the extreme necessity of his family, let Benjamin be taken
by his brethren into Egypt, which yet he did against his will, as the sacred
History witnesses. In this he shows two wills, the one inferior, by which he
grieved at sending him, the other superior, by which he took the resolution
to part with him. For the reason which moved him to disapprove his departure
was grounded on the pleasure which he felt in his presence and the pain he
would feel in his absence, which are grounds that touch the senses and the
feelings, but the resolution which he took to send him, was grounded upon
the reason of the state of his family, from his foreseeing future and
imminent necessities. Abraham, according to the inferior portion of his soul
spoke words testifying in him a kind of diffidence when the angel announced
unto him the happy tidings of a son. Shall a son, thinkest thou, be born to
him that is a hundred years old? [40] but according, to his superior part he
believed in God and it was reputed to him unto justice. [41] According to
his inferior part, doubtless he was in great anguish when he was commanded
to sacrifice his son: but according to his superior part he resolved
courageously to sacrifice him.

We also daily experience in ourselves various contrary wills. A father
sending his son either to court or to his studies, does not deny tears to
his departure, testifying, that though according to his superior part, for
the child's advancement in virtue, he wills his departure, yet according to
his inferior part he has a repugnance to the separation. Again, though a
girl be married to the contentment of her father and mother, yet when she
takes their blessing she excites their tears, in such sort that though the
superior will acquiesces in the departure, yet the inferior shows
resistance. We must not hence infer that a man has two souls or two natures,
as the Manicheans dreamed. No, says S. Augustine, in the 8th book, 10th
chapter, of his Confessions, "but the will inticed by different baits, moved
by different reasons, seems to be divided in itself while it is pulled two
ways, until, making use of its liberty, it chooses the one or the other: for
then the more efficacious will conquers, and gaining the day, leaves in the
soul the feeling of the evil that the struggle caused her, which we call
reluctance (contrecœur)."

But the example of our Saviour is admirable in this point, and being
considered it leaves no further doubt touching the distinction of the
superior and inferior part of the soul. For who amongst theologians knows
not that he was perfectly glorious from the instant of his conception in his
virgin-mother's womb, and yet at the same time he was subject to sadness,
grief, and afflictions of heart. Nor must we say he suffered only in the
body, or only in the soul as sensitive, or, which is the same thing,
according to sense: for he attests himself that before he suffered any
exterior torment, or saw the tormentors near him, his soul was sorrowful
even unto death. For which cause he prayed that the cup of his passion might
pass away from him, that is, that he might be excused from drinking it; in
which he manifestly shows the desire of the inferior portion of his soul;
which, dwelling upon the sad and agonizing objects of the passion which was
prepared for him (the lively image whereof was represented to his
imagination), he desired, by a most reasonable consequence, the deliverance
and escape from them, which he begs from his Father. By this we clearly see
that the inferior part of the soul is not the same thing as the sensitive
degree of it, nor the inferior will the same with the sensitive appetite;
for neither the sensitive appetite, nor the soul insomuch as it is
sensitive, is capable of making any demand or prayer, these being acts of
the reasonable power; and they are, specially, incapable of speaking to God,
an object which the senses cannot reach, so as to make it known to the
appetite. But the same Saviour, having thus exercised the inferior part, and
testified that according to it and its considerations his will inclined to
the avoidance of the griefs and pains, showed afterwards that he had the
superior part, by which inviolably adhering to the eternal will, and to the
decree made by his heavenly Father, he willingly accepted death, and in
spite of the repugnance of the inferior part of reason, he said: Ah! no, my
Father, not my will, but thine be done. When he says my will, he speaks of
his will according to the inferior portion, and inasmuch an he says it
voluntarily, he shows that he has a superior will.

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[40] Gen. xvii. 17.

[41] Ib. xv. 6.
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CHAPTER XII.

THAT IN THESE TWO PORTIONS OF THE SOUL THERE ARE FOUR DIFFERENT DEGREES OF
REASON.

There were three courts in Solomon's temple. One was for the Gentiles and
strangers who, wishing to have recourse to God, went to adore in Jerusalem;
the second for the Israelites, men and women (the separation of men from
women not being made by Solomon); the third for the priests and Levites; and
in fine, besides all this, there was the sanctuary or sacred house, which
was open to the high priest only, and that but once a year. Our reason, or,
to speak better, our soul in so far as it is reasonable, is the true temple
of the great God, who there takes up his chief residence. "I sought thee,"
says S. Augustine, "outside myself, but I found thee not, because thou art
within me." In this mystical temple there are also three courts, which are
three different degrees of reason; in the first we reason according to the
experience of sense, in the second according to human sciences, in the third
according to faith: and in fine, beyond this, there is a certain eminence or
supreme point of the reason and spiritual faculty, which is not guided by
the light of argument or reasoning, but by a simple view of the
understanding and a simple movement of the will, by which the spirit bends
and submits to the truth and the will of God.

Now this extremity and summit of our soul, this highest point of our spirit,
is very naturally represented by the sanctuary or holy place. For, first, in
the sanctuary there were no windows to give light: in this degree of the
soul there is no reasoning which illuminates. Secondly, all the light
entered by the door; in this degree of the soul nothing enters but by faith,
which produces, like rays, the sight and the sentiment of the beauty and
goodness of the good pleasure of God. Thirdly, none entered the sanctuary
save the high priest; in this apex of the soul reasoning enters not, but
only the high, universal and sovereign feeling that the divine will ought
sovereignly to be loved, approved and embraced, not only in some particular
things but in general for all things, nor generally in all things only, but
also particularly in each thing. Fourthly, the high priest entering into the
sanctuary obscured even that light which came by the door, putting many
perfumes into his thurible, the smoke whereof drove back the rays of light
to which the open door gave entrance: and all the light which is in the
supreme part of the soul is in some sort obscured and veiled by the
renunciations and resignations which the soul makes, not desiring so much to
behold and see the goodness of the truth and the truth of the goodness
presented to her, as to embrace and adore the same, so that the soul would
almost wish to shut her eyes as soon as she begins to see the dignity of
God's will, to the end that not occupying herself further in considering it,
she may more powerfully and perfectly accept it, and by an absolute
complacency perfectly unite and submit herself thereto. Fifthly, to
conclude, in the sanctuary was kept the ark of alliance, and in that, or at
least adjoining to it, the tables of the law, manna in a golden vessel, and
Aaron's rod which in one night bore flowers and fruit: and in this highest
point of the soul are found: 1. The light of faith, figured by the manna
hidden in its vessel, by which we acquiesce in the truths of the mysteries
which we do not understand. 2. The utility of hope, represented by Aaron's
flowering and fruitful rod, by which we acquiesce in the promises of the
goods which we see not. 3. The sweetness of holy charity, represented by
God's commandments which charity contains, by which we acquiesce in the
union of our spirit with God's, which we scarcely perceive.

For although faith, hope and charity spread out their divine movements into
almost all the faculties of the soul, as well reasonable as sensitive,
reducing and holily subjecting them to their just authority, yet their
special residence, their true and natural dwelling, is in this supreme
region of the soul, from whence as from a happy source of living water, they
run out by divers conduits and brooks upon the inferior parts and faculties.

So that, Theotimus, in the superior part of reason there are two degrees of
reason. In the one those discourses are made which depend on faith and
supernatural light, in the other the simple acquiescings of faith, hope and
charity. Saint Paul's soul found itself pressed by two different desires,
the one to be delivered from his body, so as to go to heaven with Jesus
Christ, the other to remain in this world to labour in the conversion of
souls; both these desires were without doubt in the superior part, for they
both proceeded from charity, but his resolution to follow the latter
proceeded not from reasoning but from a simple sight, seeing and loving his
master's will, in which the superior point alone of the spirit acquiesced,
putting on one side all that reasoning might conclude.

But if faith, hope and charity be formed by this holy acquiescence in the
point of the spirit, how can reasonings which depend on the light of faith
be made in the inferior part of the soul? As, Theotimus, we see that
barristers dispute with many arguments on the acts and rights of parties to
a suit, and that the high parliament or senate settles all the strife by a
positive sentence, though even after this is pronounced the advocates and
auditors do not give up discoursing among themselves the motives parliament
may have had:even so, after reasoning, and above all the grace of God have
persuaded the point and highest part of the spirit to acquiesce, and make
the act of faith after the manner of a sentence or judgment, the
understanding does not at once cease discoursing upon that same act of faith
already conceived, to consider the motives and reasons thereof. But always
the arguments of theology are stated at the pleading place and bar of the
superior portion of the soul, but the acquiescence is given above, on the
bench and tribunal of the point of the spirit. Now, because the knowledge of
these four degrees of the reason is much required for understanding all
treatises on spiritual things, I have thought well to explain it rather
fully.

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CHAPTER XIII.

ON THE DIFFERENCE OF LOVES.

Love is divided into two species, whereof one is called love of benevolence
(or goodwill) the other of cupidity (convoitise). The love of cupidity is
that by which we love something for the profit we expect from it. Love of
benevolence is that by which we love a thing for its own good. For what
other thing is it to have the love of benevolence for any one than to wish
him good.

If he to whom we wish good have it already and possesses it, then we wish it
him by the pleasure and contentment which we have to see him possessed of
it, and hence springs the love of complacency, which is simply an act of the
will by which it is joined and united to the pleasure, content and good of
another. But in case he to whom we wish good have not yet obtained it we
desire it him, and hence that love is termed love of desire.

When the love of benevolence is exercised without correspondence on the part
of the beloved, it is called the love of simple benevolence; but when it is
practised with mutual correspondence, it is called the love of friendship.
Now mutual correspondence consists in three things; friends must love one
another, know that they love one another, and have communication, intimacy
and familiarity with one another.

If we love a friend without preferring him before others, the friendship is
simple; if we prefer him, then this friendship will be called dilection, as
if we said love of election, because we choose this from amongst many things
we love, and prefer it.

Again, when by this dilection we do not much prefer one friend before others
it is called simple dilection, but when, on the contrary, we much more
esteem and greatly prefer one friend before others of his kind, then this
friendship is called dilection by excellence.

If the esteem and preference of our friend, though great and without equal,
do yet enter into comparison and proportion with others, the friendship will
be called eminent dilection, but if the eminence of it be, beyond proportion
and comparison, above every other, then it is graced with the title of
incomparable, sovereign and supereminent dilection, and in a word it will be
charity, which is due to the one God only. And indeed in our language the
words cher, cherement, encherir, [42] represent a certain particular esteem,
prize or value, so that as amongst the people the word man is almost
appropriated to the male-kind as to the more excellent sex, and the word
adoration is almost exclusively kept for God as for its proper object, so
the name of Charity has been kept for the love of God as for supreme and
sovereign dilection.

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[42] Meaning dear, dearly, to endear. The Saint's argument cannot be given
in English. It rests on the connection between cher and charit, like the
Latin carus and caritas. (Tr.)
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CHAPTER XIV.

THAT CHARITY MAY BE NAMED LOVE.

Origin says somewhere [43] that in his opinion the Divine Scripture wishing
to hinder the word love from giving occasion of evil thoughts to the weak,
as being more proper to signify a carnal passion than a spiritual affection,
instead of this name of love has used the words charity and dilection, which
are more honest. But S. Augustine having deeply weighed the use of God's
word clearly shows that the name love is no less sacred than the word
dilection, and that the one and the other signify sometimes a holy affection
and sometimes also a depraved passion, alleging to this purpose different
passages of Holy Scripture. But the great S. Denis, as excelling doctor of
the proper use of the divine names, goes much further in favour of the word
love, teaching that theologians, that is, the Apostles and their first
disciples (for this saint knew no other theologians) to disabuse the common
people, and break down their error in taking the word love in a profane and
carnal sense, more willingly employed it in divine things than that of
dilection; and, though they considered that both might be used for the same
thing, yet some of them were of opinion that the word love was more proper
and suitable to God than the word dilection. Hence the divine Ignatius wrote
these words: "My love is crucified." And as these ancient theologians made
use of the word love in divine things to free it from the taint of impurity
of which it was suspected according to the imagination of the world, so to
express human affections they liked to use the word dilection as exempt from
all suspicion of impropriety. Wherefore one of them, as S. Denis reports,
said: "Thy dilection has entered into my soul like the dilection of women."
[44] In fine the word love signifies more fervour, efficacy, and activity
than that of dilection, so that amongst the Latins dilection is much less
significative than love: "Clodius," says their great orator, "bears me
dilection, and to say it more excellently, he loves me." Therefore the word
love, as the most excellent, has justly been given to charity, as to the
chief and most eminent of all loves; so that for all these reasons, and
because I intend to speak of the acts of charity rather than of its habit, I
have entitled this little work, A Treatise of the Love of God.

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[43] Hom. I. in Can.

[44] De Div. Nom. iv.§ 12. The reference, of course, is to 2 Kings i. 26.
S. Francis is careful to quote S. Denis, who used the Septuagint text,
agapēsis. The Vulgate does not mark the difference. (Tr.)
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CHAPTER XV.

OF THE AFFINITY THERE IS BETWEEN GOD AND MAN.

As soon as man thinks with even a little attention of the divinity, he feels
a certain delightful emotion of the heart, which testifies that God is God
of the human heart; and our understanding is never so filled with pleasure
as in this thought of the divinity, the smallest knowledge of which, as says
the prince of philosophers, is worth more than the greatest knowledge of
other things; as the least beam of the sun is more luminous than the
greatest of the moon or stars, yea is more luminous than the moon and stars
together. And if some accident terrifies our heart, it immediately has
recourse to the Divinity, protesting thereby that when all other things fail
him, It alone stands his friend, and that when he is in peril, It only, as
his sovereign good, can save and secure him.

This pleasure, this confidence which man's heart naturally has in God, can
spring from no other root than the affinity there is between this divine
goodness and man's soul, a great but secret affinity, an affinity which each
one knows but few understand, an affinity which cannot be denied nor yet be
easily sounded. We are created to the image and likeness of God:what does
this mean but that we have an extreme affinity with his divine majesty?

Our soul is spiritual, indivisible, immortal; understands and wills freely,
is capable of judging, reasoning, knowing, and of having virtues, in which
it resembles God. It resides whole in the whole body, and whole in every
part thereof, as the divinity is all in all the world, and all in every part
thereof. Man knows and loves himself by produced and expressed acts of his
understanding and will, which proceeding from the understanding and the
will, and distinct from one another, yet are and remain inseparably united
in the soul, and in the faculties from whence they proceed. So the Son
proceeds from the Father as his knowledge expressed, and the Holy Ghost as
love breathed forth and produced from the Father and the Son, both the
Persons being distinct from one another and from the Father, and yet
inseparable and united, or rather one same, sole, simple, and entirely one
indivisible divinity.

But besides this affinity of likenesses, there is an incomparable
correspondence between God and man, for their reciprocal perfection: not
that God can receive any perfection from man, but because as man cannot be
perfected but by the divine goodness, so the divine goodness can scarcely so
well exercise its perfection outside itself, as upon our humanity: the one
has great want and capacity to receive good, the other great abundance and
inclination to bestow it. Nothing is so agreeable to poverty as a liberal
abundance, nor to a liberal abundance as a needy poverty, and by how much
the good is more abundant, by so much more strong is the inclination to pour
forth and communicate itself. By how much more the poor man is in want, so
much the more eager is he to receive, as a void is to fill itself. The
meeting then of abundance and indigence is most sweet and agreeable, and one
could scarcely have said whether the abounding good have a greater
contentment in spreading and communicating itself, or the failing and needy
good in receiving and in drawing to itself, until Our Saviour had told us
that it is more blessed to give than to receive. [45] Now where there is
more blessedness there is more satisfaction, and therefore the divine
goodness receives greater pleasure in giving than we in receiving.

Mothers' breasts are sometimes so full that they must offer them to some
child, and though the child takes the breast with great avidity, the nurse
offers it still more eagerly, the child pressed by its necessity, and the
mother by her abundance.

The sacred spouse wished for the holy kiss of union: O, said she, let him
kiss me with the kiss of his mouth. [46] But is there affinity enough, O
well-beloved spouse of the well-beloved, between thee and thy loving one to
bring to the union which thou desirest? Yes, says she: give me it; this kiss
of union, O thou dear love of my heart: for thy breasts are better than
wine, smelling sweet of the best ointment. New wine works and boils in
itself by virtue of its goodness, and cannot be contained within the casks;
but thy breasts are yet better, they press thee more strongly, and to draw
the children of thy heart to them, they spread a perfume attractive beyond
all the scent of ointments. Thus, Theotimus, our emptiness has need of the
divine abundance by reason of its want and necessity, but God's abundance
has no need of our poverty but by reason of the excellency of his perfection
and goodness; a goodness which is not at all bettered by communication, for
it acquires nothing in pouring itself out of itself, on the contrary it
gives: but our poverty would remain wanting and miserable, if it were not
enriched by the divine abundance.

Our soul then seeing that nothing can perfectly content her, and that
nothing the world can afford is able to fill her capacity, considering that
her understanding has an infinite inclination ever to know more, and her
will an insatiable appetite to love and find the good;has she not reason to
cry out: Ah! I am not then made for this world, there is a sovereign good on
which I depend, some infinite workman who has placed in me this endless
desire of knowing, and this appetite which cannot be appeased! And therefore
I must tend and extend towards Him, to unite and join myself to the goodness
of Him to whom I belong and whose I am! Such is the affinity between God and
man's soul.

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[45] Acts xx. 35.

[46] Cant. i. 1.
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CHAPTER XVI.

THAT WE HAVE A NATURAL INCLINATION TO LOVE GOD ABOVE ALL THINGS.

If there could be found any men who were in the integrity of original
justice in which Adam was created, though otherwise not helped by another
assistance from God than that which he affords to each creature, in order
that it may be able to do the actions befitting its nature, such men would
not only have an inclination to love God above all things but even naturally
would be able to put into execution so just an inclination. For as this
heavenly author and master of nature co-operates with and lends his strong
hand to fire to spring on high, to water to flow towards the sea, to earth
to sink down to its centre and stay thereso having himself planted in man's
heart a special natural inclination not only to love good in general but to
love in particular and above all things his divine goodness which is better
and sweeter than all thingsthe sweetness of his sovereign providence
required that he should contribute to these blessed men of whom we speak as
much help as should be necessary to practise and effectuate that
inclination. This help would be on the one hand natural, as being suitable
to nature, and tending to the love of God as author and sovereign master of
nature, and on the other hand it would be supernatural, because it would
correspond not with the simple nature of man, but with nature adorned,
enriched and honoured by original justice, which is a supernatural quality
proceeding from a most special favour of God. But as to the love above all
things which such help would enable these men to practise, it would be
called natural, because virtuous actions take their names from their objects
and motives, and this love of which we speak would only tend to God as
acknowledged to be author, lord and sovereign of every creature by natural
light only, and consequently to be amiable and estimable above all things by
natural inclination and tendency.

And although now our human nature be not endowed with that original
soundness and righteousness which the first man had in his creation, but on
the contrary be greatly depraved by sin, yet still the holy inclination to
love God above all things stays with us, as also the natural light by which
we see his sovereign goodness to be more worthy of love than all things; and
it is impossible that one thinking attentively upon God, yea even by natural
reasoning only, should not feel a certain movement of love which the secret
inclination of our nature excites in the bottom of our hearts, by which at
the first apprehension of this chief and sovereign object, the will is
taken, and perceives itself stirred up to a complacency in it.

It happens often amongst partridges that one steals away another's eggs with
intention to sit on them, whether moved by greediness to become a mother, or
by a stupidity which makes them mistake their own, and behold a strange
thing, yet well supported by testimony!the young one which was hatched and
nourished under the wings of a stranger partridge, at the first call of the
true mother, who had laid the egg whence she was hatched, quits the
thief-partridge, goes back to the first mother, and puts herself in her
brood, from the correspondence which she has with her first origin. Yet this
correspondence appeared not, but remained secret, shut up and as it were
sleeping in the bottom of nature, till it met with its object; when suddenly
excited, and in a sort awakened, it produces its effect, and turns the young
partridge's inclination to its first duty. It is the same, Theotimus, with
our heart, which though it be formed, nourished and bred amongst corporal,
base and transitory things, and in a manner under the wings of nature,
notwithstanding, at the first look it throws on God, at its first knowledge
of him, the natural and first inclination to love God which was dull and
imperceptible, awakes in an instant, and suddenly appears as a spark from
amongst the ashes, which touching our will gives it a movement of the
supreme love due to the sovereign and first principle of all things.

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CHAPTER XVII.

THAT WE HAVE NOT NATURALLY THE POWER TO LOVE GOD ABOVE ALL THINGS.

Eagles have a great heart, and much strength of flight, yet they have
incomparably more sight than flight, and extend their vision much quicker
and further than their wings. So our souls animated with a holy natural
inclination towards the divinity, have far more light in the understanding
to see how lovable it is than force in the will to love it. Sin has much
more weakened man's will than darkened his intellect, and the rebellion of
the sensual appetite, which we call concupiscence, does indeed disturb the
understanding, but still it is against the will that it principally stirs up
sedition and revolt: so that the poor will, already quite infirm, being
shaken with the continual assaults which concupiscence directs against it,
cannot make so great progress in divine love as reason and natural
inclination suggest to it that it should do.

Alas! Theotimus, what fine testimonies not only of a great knowledge of God,
but also of a strong inclination towards him, have been left by those great
philosophers, Socrates, Plato, Trismegistus, Aristotle, Hippocrates, Seneca,
Epictetus? Socrates, the most highly praised amongst them, came to the clear
knowledge of the unity of God, and felt in himself such an inclination to
love him, that as S. Augustine testifies, many were of opinion that he never
had any other aim in teaching moral philosophy than to purify minds that
they might better contemplate the sovereign good, which is the simple unity
of the Divinity. And as for Plato, he sufficiently declares himself in his
definition of philosophy and of a philosopher; saying that to do the part of
a philosopher is nothing else but to love God, and that a philosopher is no
other thing than a lover of God. What shall I say of the great Aristotle,
who so efficaciously proves the unity of God and has spoken so honourably of
it in so many places?

But, O eternal God! those great spirits which had so great an inclination to
love it, were all wanting in force and courage to love it well. By visible
creatures they have known the invisible things of God, yea even his eternal
power also and divinity, says the Apostle, so that they are inexcusable.
Because that, when they knew God, they have not glorified him as God, or
given thanks. [47] They glorified him indeed in some sort, attributing to
him sovereign titles of honour, yet they did not glorify him as they ought,
that is, they did not glorify him above all things; not having the courage
to destroy idolatry, but communicating with idolators, detaining the truth
which they knew in injustice, prisoner in their hearts, and preferring the
honour and vain repose of their lives before the honour due unto God, they
grew vain in their knowledge.

Is it not a great pity, Theotimus, to see Socrates, as Plato reports, speak
upon his deathbed concerning the gods as though there had been many, he
knowing so well that there was but one only? Is it not a thing to be
deplored that Plato who understood so clearly the truth of the divine unity
should ordain that sacrifice should be offered to many gods? And is it not a
lamentable thing that Mercury Trismegistus should so basely lament and
grieve over the abolition of idolatry, who on so many occasions had spoken
so worthily of the divinity? But above all I wonder at the poor good man
Epictetus, whose words and sentences are so sweet in our tongue, in the
translation which the learned and agreeable pen of the R. F. D. John of S.
Francis, Provincial of the Congregation of the Feuillants in the Gauls, has
recently put before us. For what a pity it is, I pray you, to see this
excellent philosopher speak of God sometimes with such relish, feeling, and
zeal that one would have taken him for a Christian coming from some holy and
profound meditation, and yet again from time to time talking of gods after
the Pagan manner! Alas! this good man, who knew so well the unity of God,
and had so much delight in his goodness, why had he not the holy jealousy of
the divine honour, so as not to stumble or dissemble in a matter of so great
consequence?

In a word, Theotimus, our wretched nature spoilt by sin, is like palm-trees
in this land of ours, which indeed make some imperfect productions and as it
were experiments of fruits, but to bear entire, ripe and seasoned datesthat
is, reserved for hotter climates. For so our human heart naturally produces
certain beginnings of God's love, but to proceed so far as to love him above
all things, which is the true ripeness of the love due unto this supreme
goodness,this belongs only to hearts animated and assisted with heavenly
grace, and which are in the state of holy charity. This little imperfect
love of which nature by itself feels the stirrings, is but a will without
will, a will that would but wills not, a sterile will, which does not
produce true effects, a will sick of the palsy, which sees the healthful
pond of holy love, but has not the strength to throw itself into it. To
conclude, this will is an abortion of good will, which has not the life of
generous strength necessary to effectually prefer God before all things.
Whereupon the Apostle speaking in the person of the sinner, cries out: To
will good is present with me, but to accomplish that which is good I find
not. [48]

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[47] Rom. i. 20.

[48] Rom. vii. 18.
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CHAPTER XVIII.

THAT THE NATURAL INCLINATION WHICH WE HAVE TO LOVE GOD IS NOT USELESS.

But seeing we have not power naturally to love God above all things, why
have we naturally an inclination to it? Is not nature vain to incite us to a
love which she cannot bestow upon us? Why does she give us a thirst for a
precious water of which she cannot give us to drink? Ah! Theotimus, how good
God has been to us! The perfidy which we committed in offending him deserved
truly that he should have deprived us of all the marks of his benevolence,
and of the favour which he deigned to our nature when he imprinted upon it
the light of his divine countenance, and gave to our hearts the joyfulness
of feeling themselves inclined to the love of the divine goodness: so that
the angels seeing this miserable man would have had occasion to say in pity:
Is this the creature of perfect beauty, the joy of all the earth? [49]

But this infinite clemency could never be so rigorous to the work of his
hands; he saw that we were clothed with flesh a wind which goeth and
returneth not, [50] and therefore according to the bowels of his mercy he
would not utterly ruin us, nor deprive us of the sign of his lost grace, in
order that seeing this, and feeling in ourselves this alliance, and this
inclination to love him, we should strive to do so, that no one might justly
say: Who showeth us good things? [51] For though by this sole natural
inclination we cannot be so happy as to love God as we ought, yet if we
employed it faithfully, the sweetness of the divine piety would afford us
some assistance, by means of which we might make progress, and if we second
this first assistance the paternal goodness of God would bestow upon us
another greater, and conduct us from good to better in all sweetness, till
he brought us to the sovereign love, to which our natural inclination impels
us: since it is certain that to him who is faithful in a little, and who
does what is in his power, the divine benignity never denies its assistance
to advance him more and more.

This natural inclination then which we have to love God above all things is
not left for nothing in our hearts: for on God's part it is a handle by
which he can hold us and draw us to himself;and the divine goodness seems
in some sort by this impression to keep our hearts tied as little birds in a
string, by which he can draw us when it pleases his mercy to take pity upon
usand on our part it is a mark and memorial of our first principle and
Creator, to whose love it moves us, giving us a secret intimation that we
belong to his divine goodness; even as harts upon whom princes have had
collars put with their arms, though afterwards they cause them to be let
loose and run at liberty in the forest, do not fail to be recognized by any
one who meets them not only as having been once taken by the prince whose
arms they bear, but also as being still reserved for him. And in this way
was known the extreme old age of a hart which according to some historians
was taken three hundred years after the death of C¦sar; because there was
found on him a collar with C¦sar's device upon it, and these words: C¦sar
let me go.

In truth the honourable inclination which God has left in our hearts
testifies as well to our friends as to our enemies that we did not only
sometime belong to our Creator, but furthermore, though he has left us and
let us go at the mercy of our free will, that we still appertain to him, and
that he has reserved the right of taking us again to himself, to save us,
according as his holy and sweet providence shall require. Hence the royal
prophet terms this inclination not only a light, in that it makes us see
whither we are to tend, but also a joy and gladness, [52] for it comforts us
when we stray, giving us a hope that he who engraved and left in us this
clear mark of our origin intends also and desires to reduce and bring us
back thither, if we be so happy as to let ourselves be retaken by his divine
goodness.
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[49] Lam. ii. 15.

[50] Ps. lxxvii. 39.

[51] Ps. iv. 6.

[52] Ibid. 7.
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_________________________________________________________________

THE SECOND BOOK.

THE HISTORY OF THE GENERATION AND HEAVENLY BIRTH OF DIVINE LOVE.
_________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER I.

THAT THE DIVINE PERFECTIONS ARE ONLY A SINGLE BUT INFINITE PERFECTION.

When the sun rises red and soon after looks black, or hollow and sunk; or
again when it sets wan, pale, and dull, we say it is a sign of rain.
Theotimus, the sun is not red, nor black, nor grey, nor green: that great
luminary is not subject to these vicissitudes and changes of colour, having
for its sole colour its most clear and perpetual light which, unless by
miracle, is invariable. But we use this manner of speaking, because it seems
such to us, according to the variety of vapours interposed between him and
our eyes, which make him appear in different ways.

In like manner we discourse of God, not so much according to what he is in
himself, as according to his works, by means of which we contemplate him;
for according to our various considerations we name him variously, even as
though he had a great multitude of different excellences and perfections. If
we regard him inasmuch as he punishes the wicked, we term him just; if as he
delivers sinners from their misery, we proclaim him merciful; since he has
created all things and done many wonders, we name him omnipotent; as exactly
fulfilling his promises we call him true; as ranging all things in so goodly
an order we call him most wise; and thus, continuing and following the
variety of his works, we attribute unto him a great diversity of
perfections. But, all the time, in God there is neither variety, nor any
difference whatever of perfections. He is himself one most sole, most simple
and most indivisible, unique perfection: for all that is in him is but
himself, and all the excellences which we say are in him in so great
diversity are really there in a most simple and pure unity. And as the sun
has none of the colours which we ascribe unto it, but one sole most clear
light surpassing all colour, and giving colour to all colours,so in God
there is not one of those perfections which we imagine, but an only most
pure excellence, which is above all perfection and gives perfection to all
that is perfect. Now to assign a perfect name to this supreme excellence,
which in its most singular unity comprehends, yea surmounts, all excellence,
is not within the reach of the creature, whether human or angelic; for as is
said in the Apocalypse: Our Lord has a name which no man knoweth but
himself: [53] because as he only perfectly knows his own infinite perfection
he also alone can express it by a suitable name. Whence the ancients have
said that no one but God is a true theologian, as none but he can reach the
full knowledge of the infinite greatness of the divine perfection, nor,
consequently, represent it in words. And for this cause, God, answering by
the angel Samson's father who demanded his name, said: Why asketh thou my
name which is wonderful? [54] As though he had said: My name may be admired,
but never pronounced by creatures; it must be adored, but cannot be
comprehended save by me, who alone can pronounce the proper name by which
truly and to the life I express my excellence. Our thoughts are too feeble
to form a conception which should represent an excellence so immense, which
comprehends in its most simple and most sole perfection, distinctly and
perfectly, all other perfections in a manner infinitely excellent and
eminent, to which our thoughts cannot raise themselves. We are forced, then,
in order to speak in some way of God, to use a great number of names, saying
that he is good, wise, omnipotent, true, just, holy, infinite, immortal,
invisible;and certainly we speak truly; God is all this together, because
he is more than all this, that is to say, he is all this in so pure, so
excellent and so exalted a way, that in one most simple perfection he
contains the virtue, vigour and excellence of all perfection.

In the same way, the manna was one meat, which, containing in itself the
taste and virtue of all other meats, might have been said to have the taste
of the lemon, the melon, the grape, the plum and the pear. Yet one might
have said with still greater truth that it had not all these tastes, but one
only, which was its own proper one, but which contained in its unity all
that was agreeable and desirable in all the diversity of other tastes: like
the herb dodecatheos, which, says Pliny, while curing all diseases, is nor
rhubarb, nor senna, nor rose, nor clove, nor bugloss, but one simple, which
in its own proper simplicity contains as much virtue as all other
medicaments together. O abyss of the divine perfections! How admirable art
thou, to possess in one only perfection the excellence of all perfection in
so excellent a manner that none can comprehend it but thyself!

We shall say much, says the Scripture, and yet shall want words: but the sum
of our words is: He is all. What shall we be able to do to glorify him, for
the Almighty himself is above all his works? The Lord is terrible, and
exceeding great, and his power is admirable. Glorify the Lord as much as
ever you can, for he will yet far exceed, and his magnificence is wonderful.
Blessing the Lord, exalt him as much as you can: for he is above all praise.
When you exalt him put forth all your strength, and be not weary: for you
can never go far enough. [55] No, Theotimus, we can never comprehend him,
since, as St. John says, he is greater than our heart. [56] Nevertheless,
let every spirit praise the Lord, calling him by all the most eminent names
which may be found, and for the greatest praise we can render unto him let
us confess that never can he be sufficiently praised; and for the most
excellent name we can attribute unto him let us protest that his name
surpasses all names, nor can we worthily name him.

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[53] Apoc. xix. 12.

[54] Judges xiii. 18.

[55] Ecclus. xliii. 29

[56] 1 John iii. 20.
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CHAPTER II.

THAT IN GOD THERE IS BUT ONE ONLY ACT, WHICH IS HIS OWN DIVINITY.

There is in us great diversity of faculties and habits, which produce also a
great variety of actions, and those actions an incomparable multitude of
works. Thus differ the faculties of hearing, seeing, tasting, touching,
moving, feeding, understanding, willing; and the habits of speaking,
walking, playing, singing, sewing, leaping, swimming: as also the actions
and works which issue from these faculties and habits are greatly different.

But it is not the same in God; for in him there is one only most simple
infinite perfection, and in that perfection one only most sole and most pure
act: yea to speak more holily and sagely, God is one unique and most
uniquely sovereign perfection, and this perfection is one sole most purely
simple and most simply pure act, which being no other thing than the proper
divine essence, is consequently ever permanent and eternal. Nevertheless
poor creatures that we are, we talk of God's actions as though daily done in
great number and variety, though we know the contrary. But our weakness,
Theotimus, forces us to this; for our speech can but follow our
understanding, and our understanding the customary order of things with us.
Now, as in natural things there is hardly any diversity of works without
diversity of actions, when we behold so many different works, such great
variety of productions, and the innumerable multitude of the effects of the
divine might, it seems to us at first that this diversity is caused by as
many acts as we see different effects, and we speak of them in the same way,
in order to speak more at our ease, according to our ordinary practice and
our customary way of understanding things. And indeed we do not in this
violate truth, for though in God there is no multitude of actions, but one
sole act which is the divinity itself, yet this act is so perfect that it
comprehends by excellence the force and virtue of all the acts which would
seem requisite to the production of all the different effects we see.

God spoke but one word, and in virtue of that in a moment were made the sun,
moon and that innumerable multitude of stars, with their differences in
brightness, motion and influence. He spoke and they were made. [57] A single
word of God's filled the air with birds, and the sea with fishes, made
spring from the earth all the plants and all the beasts we see. For although
the sacred historian, accommodating himself to our fashion of understanding,
recounts that God often repeated that omnipotent word: Let there be:
according to the days of the world's creation, nevertheless, properly
speaking, this word was singularly one; so that David terms it a breathing
or spirit of the divine mouth; [58] that is, one single act of his infinite
will, which so powerfully spreads its virtue over the variety of created
things, that it makes us conceive this act as if it were multiplied and
diversified into as many differences as there are in these effects, though
in reality it is most simply and singularly one. Thus S. Chrysostom remarks
that what Moses said in many words describing the creation of the world, the
glorious S. John expressed in a single word, saying that by the word, that
is by that eternal word who is the Son of God, all things were made. [59]

This word then, Theotimus, whilst most simple and most single, produces all
the distinction of things; being invariable produces all fit changes, and,
in fine, being permanent in his eternity gives succession, vicissitude,
order, rank and season to all things.

Let us imagine, I pray you, on the one hand, a painter making a picture of
Our Saviour's birth (and I write this in the days dedicated to this holy
mystery). Doubtless he will give a thousand and a thousand touches with his
brush, and will take, not only days, but weeks and months, to perfect this
picture, according to the variety of persons and other things he wants to
represent in it. But on the other hand, let us look at a printer of
pictures, who having spread his sheet upon the plate which has the same
mystery of the Nativity cut in it, gives but a single stroke of the press:
in this one stroke, Theotimus, he will do all his work, and instantly he
will draw off a picture representing in a fine engraving all that has been
imagined, as sacred history records it. Now though with one movement he
performed the work, yet it contains a great number of personages, and other
different things, each one well distinguished in its order, rank, place,
distance and proportion: so that one not acquainted with the secret would be
astonished to see proceed from one act so great a variety of effects. In the
same way, Theotimus, nature as a painter multiplies and diversifies her acts
according as the works she has in hand are various, and it takes her a great
time to finish great effects, but God, like the printer, has given being to
all the diversity of creatures which have been, are, or shall be, by one
only stroke of his omnipotent will. He draws from his idea as from a well
cut plate, this admirable difference of persons and of things, which succeed
one another in seasons, in ages, and in times, each one in its order, as
they were to be. For this sovereign unity of the divine act is opposed to
confusion and disorder, and not to distinction and variety; these on the
contrary it purposely uses, to make beauty from them, by reducing all
differences and diversities to proportion, proportion to order, and order to
the unity of the world, which comprises all things created, visible and
invisible. All these together are called the universe, perhaps because all
their diversity is reduced to unity as though one said "unidiverse," that
is, one and diverse, one with diversity and diverse with unity.

To sum up, the sovereign divine unity diversifies all, and his permanent
eternity gives change to all things, because the perfection of this unity
being above all difference and variety, it has wherewith to furnish all the
diversities of created perfections with their beings, and contains a virtue
to produce them; in sign of which the Scripture having told us that God in
the beginning said: Let there be lights made in the firmament of heaven, to
divide the day and the night, and let them be for signs, and for seasons and
for days and years, [60]we see even to this day a perpetual revolution and
succession of times and seasons which shall continue till the end of the
world. So we learn that as he spoke and they were made, so the single
eternal will of his divine Majesty extends its force from age to age, yea to
ages of ages, to all that has been, is, or shall be eternally; and nothing
at all has existence save by this sole most singular, most simple, and most
eternal divine act, to which be honour and glory. Amen.

_________________________________________________________________

[57] Ps. cxlviii. 5.

[58] Ps. xxxii. 6.

[59] 1 John i. 3.

[60] Gen. i. 14.
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CHAPTER III.

OF THE DIVINE PROVIDENCE IN GENERAL.

God, then, Theotimus, needs not many acts, because one only divine act of
his all-powerful will, by reason of its infinite perfection, is sufficient
to produce all the variety of his works. But we mortals must treat them
after the method and manner of understanding which our small minds can
attain to; according to which, to speak of divine providence, let us
consider, I pray you, the reign of the great Solomon, as a perfect model of
the art of good government.

This great king then, knowing by divine inspiration that the commonwealth is
to religion as the body to the soul, and religion to the commonwealth as the
soul to the body, disposed with himself all the parts requisite as well for
the establishment of religion as of the commonwealth. As to religion, he
determined that a temple must be erected of such and such length, breadth,
and height, so many porches and courts, so many windows and thus of all the
rest which belonged to the temple; then so many sacrificers, so many singers
and other officers of the temple. And as for the commonwealth he determined
to make a royal palace and court for his majesty, and in this so many
stewards, so many gentlemen and other courtiers; and, for the people,
judges, and other magistrates who were to execute justice further, for the
assurance of the kingdom, and securing of the public peace which it enjoyed,
he arranged to have in time of peace a powerful preparation for war, and to
this effect two hundred and fifty commanders in various charges, forty
thousand horses, and all that great equipage which the Scripture and
historians record.

Now having disposed and arranged in his mind all the principal things
requisite for his kingdom, he came to the act of providing them, and thought
out all that was necessary to construct the temple, to maintain the sacred
officers, the royal ministers and magistrates, and the soldiers whom he
intended to appoint, and resolved to send to Hiram for fit timber, to begin
commerce with Peru [61] and Ophir, and to take all convenient means to
procure all things requisite for the fulfilment and success of his
undertaking. Neither stayed he there, Theotimus, for having made his project
and deliberated with himself about the proper means to accomplish it, coming
to the practice, he actually created officers as he had disposed, and by a
good government caused provision to be made of all things requisite to carry
out and to accomplish their charges. So that having the knowledge of the art
of reigning well, he put it into practice, executed that disposition which
he had made in his mind for the creation of officers of every sort, and
provided in effect what he had seen it necessary to provide; and so his art
of government which consisted in disposition, and in providence or
foresight, was put into practice by the creation of officers and by actual
government and good management. But inasmuch as the disposing is useless
without the creation of officers, and creation also vain without that
provident foresight which looks after what is needed to maintain the
officers created or appointed; and since this maintaining by good government
is nothing more than a providence put into effect, therefore not only the
disposition but also the creation and good government of Solomon were called
by the name of providence, nor do we indeed say that a man is provident
unless he govern well.

Now, Theotimus, speaking of heavenly things according to the impression we
have gained by the consideration of human things, we affirm that God, having
had an eternal and most perfect knowledge of the art of making the world for
his glory, disposed before all things in his divine understanding all the
principal parts of the universe which might render him honour; to wit,
angelic and human nature,and in the angelic nature the variety of
hierarchies and orders, as the sacred Scripture and holy doctors teach us;
as also among men he ordained that there should be that great diversity
which we see. Further, in this same eternity he provided and determined in
his mind all the means requisite for men and angels to come to the end for
which he had ordained them, and so made the act of his providence; and not
stopping there, he, in order to effect what he had disposed, really created
angels and men, and to effect his providence he did and does by his
government furnish reasonable creatures with all things necessary to attain
glory, so that, to say it in a word, sovereign providence is no other thing
than the act whereby God furnishes men or angels with the means necessary or
useful for the obtaining of their end. But because these means are of
different kinds we also diversify the name of providence, and say that there
is one providence natural, another supernatural, and that the latter again
is general, or special, or particular.

And because hereafter, Theotimus, I shall exhort you to unite your will to
God's providence, I would, while on this part of my subject, say a word
about natural providence. God then, willing to provide men with the natural
means necessary for them to render glory to the divine goodness, produced in
their behalf all the other animals and the plants, and to provide for the
other animals and the plants, he has produced a variety of lands, seasons,
waters, winds, rains; and, as well for man as for the other things
appertaining to him, he created the elements, the sky, the stars, ordaining
in an admirable manner that almost all creatures should mutually serve one
another. Horses carry us, and we care for them; sheep feed and clothe us,
and we feed them; the earth sends vapours to the air; and the air rain to
the earth; the hand serves the foot, and the foot the hand. O! he who should
consider this general commerce and traffic which creatures have together, in
so perfect a correspondencewith how strong an amorous passion for this
sovereign wisdom would he be moved, crying out: Thy providence O great and
eternal Father governs all things! [62] S. Basil and S. Ambrose in their
Hexaemerons, the good Louis of Granada in his introduction to the Creed, and
Louis Richeome in many of his beautiful works, will furnish ample motives to
loving souls profitably to employ this consideration.

Thus, dear Theotimus, this providence reaches all, reigns over all, and
reduces all to its glory. There are indeed fortuitous cases and unexpected
accidents, but they are only fortuitous or unexpected to us, and are of
course most certain to the divine providence, which foresees them, and
directs them to the general good of the universe. These accidents happen by
the concurrence of various causes, which having no natural alliance one with
the other, produce each of them its particular effect, but in such a way
that from their concourse there issues another effect of a different nature,
to which though one could not foresee it, all these different causes
contributed. For example, it was reasonable to chastise the curiosity of the
poet†schylus, who being told by a diviner that he would perish by the fall
of some house, kept himself all that day in the open country, to escape his
fate, and as he was standing up bareheaded, a falcon which held in its claws
a tortoise, seeing this bald head, and thinking it to be the point of a
rock, let the tortoise fall upon it, and behold†schylus dies immediately,
crushed by the house and shell of a tortoise. This was doubtless a
fortuitous accident, for this man did not go into the country to die, but to
escape death, nor did the falcon dream of crushing a poet's head, but the
head and shell of a tortoise to make itself master of the meat within: yet
it chanced to the contrary, for the tortoise remained safe and poor†schylus
was killed. According to us this chance was unexpected, but in respect of
the Divine providence which looked from above and saw the concurrence of
causes, it was an act of justice punishing the superstition of the man. The
adventures of Joseph of old were admirable in their variety and the way they
passed from one extreme to the other. His brethren who to ruin him had sold
him, were amazed to see that he had become viceroy, and were mightily
apprehensive that he remained sensible of the wrong they had done him: but
no said he: Not by your counsel was I sent hither, but by the will of God.
You thought evil against me, but God turned it into good. [63] You see,
Theotimus, the world would have termed this a chance, or fortuitous event,
which Joseph called a design of the sovereign providence, which turns and
reduces all to its service. It is the same with all things that happen in
the world yea, even with monstrosities, whose birth makes complete and
perfect works more esteemed, begets admiration, provokes discussion, and
many good thoughts; in a word they are in the world as the shades in
pictures, which give grace and seem to bring out the colours.

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[61] According to the opinion not uncommon in. S. Francis's day. (Tr.)

[62] Wisdom xiv. 3.

[63] Gen. xlv. 8; l. 20.
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CHAPTER IV.

OF THE SUPERNATURAL PROVIDENCE WHICH GOD USES TOWARDS REASONABLE CREATURES

All God's works are ordained to the salvation of men and angels; and the
order of his providence is this, as far as, by attention to the Holy
Scriptures and the doctrine of the Fathers, we are able to discover and our
weakness permits us to describe it.

God knew from all eternity that he could make an innumerable multitude of
creatures with divers perfections and qualities, to whom he might
communicate himself, and considering that amongst all the different
communications there was none so excellent as that of uniting himself to
some created nature, in such sort that the creature might be engrafted and
implanted in the divinity, and become one single person with it, his
infinite goodness, which of itself and by itself tends towards
communication, resolved and determined to communicate himself in this
manner. So that, as eternally there is an essential communication in God by
which the Father communicates all his infinite and indivisible divinity to
the Son in producing him, and the Father and the Son together producing the
Holy Ghost communicate to him also their own singular divinity;so this
sovereign sweetness was so perfectly communicated externally to a creature,
that the created nature and the divinity, retaining each of them its own
properties, were notwithstanding so united together that they were but one
same person.

Now of all the creatures which that sovereign omnipotence could produce, he
thought good to make choice of the same humanity which afterwards in effect
was united to the person of God the Son; to which he destined that
incomparable honour of personal union with his divine Majesty, to the end
that for all eternity it might enjoy by excellence the treasures of his
infinite glory. Then having selected for this happiness the sacred humanity
of our Saviour, the supreme providence decreed not to restrain his goodness
to the only person of his well-beloved Son, but for his sake to pour it out
upon divers other creatures, and out of the mass of that innumerable
quantity of things which he could produce, he chose to create men and angels
to accompany his Son, participate in his graces and glory, adore and praise
him for ever. And inasmuch as he saw that he could in various manners form
the humanity of this Son, while making him true man, as for example by
creating him out of nothing, not only in regard of the soul but also in
regard of the body; or again by forming the body of some previously existing
matter as he did that of Adam and Eve, or by way of ordinary human birth, or
finally by extraordinary birth from a woman without man, he determined that
the work should be effected by the last way, and of all the women he might
have chosen to this end he made choice of the most holy virgin Our Lady,
through whom the Saviour of our souls should not only be man, but a child of
the human race.

Furthermore the sacred providence determined to produce all other things as
well natural as supernatural in behalf of Our Saviour, in order that angels
and men might, by serving him, share in his glory; on which account,
although God willed to create both angels and men with free-will, free with
a true freedom to choose evil or good, still, to show that on the part of
the divine goodness they were dedicated to good and to glory, he created
them all in original justice, which is no other thing than a most sweet
love, which disposed, turned and set them forward towards eternal felicity.

But because this supreme wisdom had determined so to temper this original
love with the will of his creatures that love should not force the will but
should leave it in its freedom, he foresaw that a part, yet the less part,
of the angelic nature, voluntarily quitting holy love, would consequently
lose glory. And because the angelic nature could only commit this sin by an
express malice, without temptation or any motive which could excuse them,
and on the other hand the far greater part of that same nature would remain
constant in the service of their Saviour,therefore God, who had so amply
glorified his mercy in the work of the creation of angels, would also
magnify his justice, and in the fury of his indignation resolved for ever to
abandon that woful and accursed troop of traitors, who in the fury of their
rebellion had so villanously abandoned him.

He also clearly foresaw that the first man would abuse his liberty and
forsaking grace would lose glory, yet would he not treat human nature so
rigorously as he determined to treat the angelic. It was human nature of
which he had determined to take a blessed portion to unite it to his
divinity. He saw that it was a feeble nature, a wind which goeth and
returneth not, [64] that is, which is dissipated as it goes. He had regard
to the surprise by which the malign and perverse Satan had taken the first
man, and to the greatness of the temptation which ruined him. He saw that
all the race of men was perishing by the fault of one only, so that for
these reasons he beheld our nature with the eye of pity and resolved to
admit it to his mercy.

But in order that the sweetness of his mercy might be adorned with the
beauty of his justice, he determined to save man by way of a rigorous
redemption. And as this could not properly be done but by his Son, he
settled that he should redeem man not only by one of his amorous actions,
which would have been perfectly sufficient to ransom a million million of
worlds: but also by all the innumerable amorous actions and dolorous
passions which he would perform or suffer till death, and the death of the
cross, to which he destined him. He willed that thus he should make himself
the companion of our miseries to make us afterwards companions of his glory,
showing thereby the riches of his goodness, by this copious, abundant,
superabundant, magnificent and excessive redemption, which has gained for
us, and as it were reconquered for us, all the means necessary to attain
glory, so that no man can ever complain as though the divine mercy were
wanting to any one.

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[64] Ps. lxxvii. 39.
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CHAPTER V.

THAT HEAVENLY PROVIDENCE HAS PROVIDED MEN WITH A MOST ABUNDANT REDEMPTION.

Now when saying, Theotimus, that God had seen and willed first one thing and
then secondly another, observing an order in his wills: I meant this in the
sense I declared before, namely, that though all this passed in a most
singular and simple act, yet in that act the order, distinction and
dependence of things were no less observed than if there had been indeed
several acts in the understanding and will of God. And since every
well-ordered will which determines itself to love several objects equally
present, loves better and above all the rest that which is most lovable; it
follows that the sovereign Providence, making his eternal purpose and design
of all that he would produce, first willed and preferred by excellence the
most amiable object of his love which is Our Saviour; and then other
creatures in order, according as they more or less belong to the service,
honours and glory of him.

Thus were all things made for that divine man, who for this cause is called
the first-born of every creature: [65] possessed by the divine majesty in
the beginning of his ways, before he made anything from the beginning. [66]
For in him were all things created in heaven, and on earth, visible, and
invisible, whether thrones, or dominations, or principalities, or powers:
all things were created by him and in him: And he is the head of the body,
the church, who is the beginning, the first-born from among the dead: that
in all things he may hold the primacy. [67] The principal reason of planting
the vine is the fruit, and therefore the fruit is the first thing desired
and aimed at, though the leaves and the buds are first produced. So our
great Saviour was the first in the divine intention, and in that eternal
project which the divine providence made of the production of creatures, and
in view of this desired fruit the vine of the universe was planted, and the
succession of many generations established, which as leaves or blossoms
proceed from it as forerunners and fit preparatives for the production of
that grape which the sacred spouse so much praises in the Canticles, and the
juice of which rejoices God and men.

But now, my Theotimus, who can doubt of the abundance of the means of
salvation, since we have so great a Saviour, in consideration of whom we
have been made, and by whose merits we have been ransomed. For he died for
all because all were dead, and his mercy was more salutary to buy back the
race of men than Adam's misery was to ruin it. Indeed Adam's sin was so far
from overwhelming the divine benignity that on the contrary it excited and
provoked it. So that by a most sweet and most loving reaction and struggle,
it received vigour from its adversary's presence, and as if re-collecting
its forces for victory, it made grace to superabound where sin had abounded.
[68] Whence the holy Church by a pious excess of admiration cries out upon
Easter-eve: "O truly necessary sin of Adam which was blotted out by the
death of Jesus Christ! O blessed fault, which merited to have such and so
great a Redeemer!" Truly, Theotimus, we may say as did he of old, "we were
ruined had we not been undone:" that is, ruin brought us profit, since in
effect human nature has received more graces by its Saviour redeeming, than
ever it would have received by Adam's innocence, if he had persevered
therein.

For though the divine Providence has left in man deep marks of his severity,
yea, even amidst the very grace of his mercy, as for example the necessity
of dying, diseases, labours, the rebellion of sensuality,yet the divine
favour floating as it were over all this, takes pleasure in turning these
miseries to the greater profit of those who love him, making patience spring
from labours, contempt of the world from the necessity of death, a thousand
victories from out of concupiscence; and, as the rainbow touching the thorn
aspalathus makes it more odoriferous than the lily, so Our Saviour's
Redemption touching our miseries, makes them more beneficial and worthy of
love than original innocence could ever have been. I say to you, says Our
Saviour, there shall be joy in heaven upon one sinner that doth penance,
more than upon ninety-nine just who need not penance, [69] and so the state
of redemption is a hundred times better than that of innocence. Verily by
the watering of Our Saviour's blood made with the hyssop of the cross, we
have been replaced in a whiteness incomparably more excellent than the snow
of innocence. We come out, like Naaman, from the stream of salvation more
pure and clean than if we had never been leprous, to the end that the divine
Majesty, as he has ordained also for us, should not be overcome by evil, but
overcome evil by good, [70] that mercy (as a sacred oil) should keep itself
above judgment, [71] and his tender mercies be over all his works. [72]

_________________________________________________________________

[65] Col. i. 15.

[66] Prov. viii. 22.

[67] Col. i. 16.

[68] Rom. v. 20.

[69] Luke xv. 7.

[70] Rom. xii. 21.

[71] James ii. 13.

[72] Ps. cxliv. 9.
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CHAPTER VI.

OF CERTAIN SPECIAL FAVOURS EXERCISED BY THE DIVINE PROVIDENCE IN THE
REDEMPTION OF MAN.

God indeed shows to admiration the incomprehensible riches of his power in
this great variety of things which we see in nature, yet he makes the
infinite treasures of his goodness still more magnificently appear in the
incomparable variety of the goods which we acknowledge in grace. For,
Theotimus, he was not content, in the holy excess of his mercy, with sending
to his people, that is, to mankind, a general and universal redemption, by
means whereof every one might be saved, but he has diversified it in so many
ways, that while his liberality shines in all this variety, this variety
reciprocally embellishes his liberality.

And thus he first of all destined for his most holy Mother a favour worthy
of the love of a Son who, being all wise, all mighty, and all good, wished
to prepare a mother to his liking; and therefore he willed his redemption to
be applied to her after the manner of a preserving remedy, that the sin
which was spreading from generation to generation should not reach her. She
then was so excellently redeemed, that though when the time came, the
torrent of original iniquity rushed to pour its unhappy waves over her
conception, with as much impetuosity as it had done on that of the other
daughters of Adam; yet when it reached there it passed not beyond, but
stopped, as did anciently the Jordan in the time of Josue, and for the same
respect: for this river held its stream in reverence for the passage of the
Ark of Alliance; and original sin drew back its waters, revering and
dreading the presence of the true Tabernacle of the eternal alliance. In
this way then God turned away all captivity from his glorious Mother, giving
her the blessing of both the states of human nature; since she had the
innocence which the first Adam had lost, and enjoyed in an excellent sort
the redemption acquired for her. Whence as a garden of election which was to
bring forth the fruit of life, she was made to flourish in all sorts of
perfections; this son of eternal love having thus clothed his mother in
gilded clothing, surrounded with variety, [73] that she might be the queen
of his right hand, that is to say, the first of all the elect to enjoy the
delights of God's right hand: [74] so that this sacred mother as being
altogether reserved for her son, was by him redeemed not only from damnation
but also from all peril of damnation, he giving her grace and the perfection
of grace, so that she went like a lovely dawn, which, beginning to break,
increases continually in brightness till perfect daylight. Admirable
redemption! master-piece of the redeemer! and first of all redemptions! by
which the son with a truly filial heart preventing his mother with the
blessings of sweetness, preserved her not only from sin as he did the
angels, but also from all danger of sin and from everything that might
divert or retard her in the exercise of holy love. And he protests that
amongst all the reasonable creatures he has chosen, this mother is his one
dove, his all perfect one, his all dear love, beyond all likeness and all
comparison.

God also appointed other favours for a small number of rare creatures whom
he would preserve from the peril of damnation, as is certain of S. John
Baptist and very probable of Jeremias and some others, whom the Divine
providence seized upon in their mother's womb, and thereupon established
them in the perpetuity of his grace, that they might remain firm in his
love, though subject to checks and venial sins, which are contrary to the
perfection of love though not to love itself. And these souls in comparison
with others, are as queens, ever crowned with charity, holding the principal
place in the love of their Saviour next to his mother, who is queen of
queens, a queen crowned not only with love but with the perfection of love,
yea, what is yet more, crowned with her own Son, the sovereign object of
love, since children are the crown of their father and mother.

There are yet other souls whom God determined for a time to leave exposed to
the danger, not of losing their salvation, but yet of losing his love; yea
he permitted them actually to lose it, not assuring them love for the whole
time of their life, but only for the end of it and for a certain time
preceding. Such were the Apostles, David, Magdalen and many others, who for
a time remained out of God's grace, but in the end being once for all
converted were confirmed in grace until death; so that though from that time
they continued subject to some imperfections, yet were they exempt from all
mortal sin, and consequently from danger of losing the divine love, and were
sacred spouses of the heavenly bridegroom. And they were indeed adorned with
a wedding garment of his most holy love, yet they were not crowned because a
crown is an ornament of the head, that is, of the chief part of a person;
now the first part of the life of this rank of souls having been subject to
earthly love, they were not to be adorned with the crown of heavenly love,
but it is sufficient for them to wear the robe, which fits them for the
marriage bed of the heavenly spouse, and for being eternally happy with him.

_________________________________________________________________

[73] Ps. xliv. 10.

[74] Ps. xv. 11.
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CHAPTER VII.

HOW ADMIRABLE THE DIVINE PROVIDENCE IS IN THE DIVERSITY OF GRACES GIVEN TO
MEN.

There was then in the eternal providence an incomparable privilege for the
queen of queens, mother of fair love, and most singularly all perfect. There
were also for certain others some special favours. But after this the
sovereign goodness poured an abundance of graces and benedictions over the
whole race of mankind and upon the angels, with which all were watered as
with a rain that falleth on the just and unjust, all were illuminated as
with a light that enlighteneth every man coming into this world; every one
received his portion as of seed, which falls not only upon the good ground
but upon the highway, amongst thorns, and upon rocks, that all might be
inexcusable before the Redeemer, if they employ not this most abundant
redemption for their salvation.

But still, Theotimus, although this most abundant sufficiency of grace is
thus poured out over all human nature, and although in this we are all equal
that a rich abundance of benedictions is offered to us all, yet the variety
of these favours is so great, that one cannot say whether the greatness of
all these graces in so great a diversity, or the diversity in such
greatness, is more admirable. For who sees not that the means of salvation
amongst Christians are greater and more efficacious than amongst barbarians,
and again that amongst Christians there are people and towns where the
pastors get more fruit, and are more capable? Now to deny that these
exterior means were benefits of the divine providence, or to doubt whether
they did avail to the salvation and perfection of souls, were to be
ungrateful to the divine goodness, and to belie certain experience, by which
we see that ordinarily where these exterior helps abound, the interior are
more efficacious and succeed better.

In truth, as we see that there are never found two men perfectly resembling
one another in natural gifts, so are there never found any wholly equal in
supernatural ones. The angels, as the great S. Augustine and S. Thomas
assure us, received grace according to the variety of their natural
conditions; now they are all either of a different species or at least of a
different condition, since they are distinguished one from another;
therefore as many angels as there are, so many different graces are there.
And though grace is not given to men according to their natural conditions,
yet the divine sweetness rejoicing, and as one would say exulting, in the
production of graces, infinitely diversifies them, to the end that out of
this variety the fair enamel of his redemption and mercy may appear: whence
the church upon the feast of every Confessor and Bishop sings "There was not
found the like to him." And as in heaven no one knows the new name, save him
that receives it, [75] because each one of the blessed has his own apart,
according to the new being of glory which he acquires; similarly on earth
every one receives a grace so special that all are different. Our Saviour
also compares his grace to pearls, which as Pliny says are otherwise called
unities, because each one of them is so singular in its qualities that two
of them are never found perfectly alike; and as one star differeth from
another in glory, [76] so shall men be different from one another in glory,
an evident sign that they will have been so in grace. Now this variety in
grace, or this grace in variety, composes a most sacred beauty and most
sweet harmony, rejoicing all the holy city of the heavenly Jerusalem.

But we must be very careful never to make inquiry why the supreme wisdom
bestows a grace rather upon one than another, nor why it makes its favours
abound rather in one behalf than another. No, Theotimus, never enter into
this curiosity, for having all of us sufficiently, yea abundantly, that
which is requisite to salvation, what reason can any creature living have to
complain if it please God to bestow his graces more amply upon one than
another? If one should ask why God made melons larger than strawberries, or
lilies larger than violets, why the rosemary is not a rose, or why the pink
is not a marigold, why the peacock is more beautiful than a bat, or why the
fig is sweet and the lemon acid,one would laugh at his question, and say:
poor man, since the beauty of the world requires variety it is necessary
there should be difference and inequality in things, and that the one should
not be the other. That is why some things are little, others big, some
bitter, others sweet, the one more, the other less beautiful. Now it is the
same in supernatural things. Every one hath his proper gift from God; one
after this manner, and another after that, [77] says the Holy Ghost. It is
then an impertinence to search out why S. Paul had not the grace of S.
Peter, or S. Peter that of S. Paul; why S. Antony was not S. Athanasius, or
S. Athanasius S. Jerome; for one would answer to these inquiries that the
church is a garden diapered with innumerable flowers; it is necessary then
they should be of various sizes, various colours, various odours, in fine of
different perfections. All have their price, their charm and their colour,
and all of them in the collection of their differences make up a most
grateful perfection of beauty.

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[75] Apoc. ii. 17.

[76] 1 Cor. xv. 41.

[77] 1 Cor. vii. 7.
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CHAPTER VIII.

HOW MUCH GOD DESIRES WE SHOULD LOVE HIM.

Although our Saviour's redemption is applied to us in as many different
manners as there are souls, yet still, love is the universal means of
salvation which mingles with everything, and without which nothing is
profitable, as we shall show elsewhere. The Cherubim were placed at the gate
of the earthly paradise with their flaming sword, to teach us that no one
shall enter into the heavenly paradise who is not pierced through with the
sword of love. For this cause, Theotimus, the sweet Jesus who bought us with
his blood, is infinitely desirous that we should love him that we may
eternally be saved, and desires we may be saved that we may love him
eternally, his love tending to our salvation and our salvation to his love.
Ah! said he: I am come to cast fire on the earth; and what will I but that
it be kindled? [78] But to set out more to the life the ardour of this
desire, he in admirable terms requires this love from us. Thou shalt love
the Lord thy God with thy whole heart, and with thy whole soul, and with thy
whole mind. This is the greatest and the first commandment. [79] Good God!
Theotimus, how amorous the divine heart is of our love. Would it not have
sufficed to publish a permission giving us leave to love him, as Laban
permitted Jacob to love his fair Rachel, and to gain her by services? Ah no!
he makes a stronger declaration of his passionate love of us, and commands
us to love him with all our power, lest the consideration of his majesty and
our misery, which make so great a distance and inequality between us, or
some other pretext, might divert us from his love. In this, Theotimus, he
well shows that he did not leave in us for nothing the natural inclination
to love him, for to the end it may not be idle, he urges us by this general
commandment to employ it, and that this commandment may be effected, he
leaves no living man without furnishing him abundantly with all means
requisite thereto. The visible sun touches everything with its vivifying
heat, and as the universal lover of inferior things, imparts to them the
vigour requisite to produce, and even so the divine goodness animates all
souls and encourages all hearts to its love, none being excluded from its
heat. Eternal wisdom, says Solomon, preacheth abroad, she uttereth her voice
in the streets: At the head of multitudes she crieth out, in the entrance of
the gates of the city she uttereth her words, saying: O children, how long
will you love childishness, and fools covet those things which are hurtful
to themselves, and the unwise hate knowledge? Turn ye at my reproof: behold
I will utter my spirit to you, and will show you my words. [80] And the same
wisdom continues in Ezechiel saying: Our iniquities and our sins are upon
us, and we pine away in them: how then can we live? Say to them: As I live,
saith the Lord God, I desire not the death of the wicked, but that the
wicked turn from his way, and live. [81] Now to live according to God is to
love, and he that loveth not abideth in death. [82] See now, Theotimus,
whether God does not desire we should love him!

But he is not content with announcing thus publicly his extreme desire to be
loved, so that every one may have a share in his sweet invitation, but he
goes even from door to door, knocking and protesting that, if any man shall
hear my voice, and open to me the door, I will come in to him, and will sup
with him, and he with me: [83] that is, he will testify all sorts of good
will towards him.

Now what does all this mean, Theotimus, except that God does not only give
us a simple sufficiency of means to love him, and in loving him to save
ourselves, but also a rich, ample and magnificent sufficiency, and such as
ought to be expected from so great a bounty as his. The great Apostle
speaking to obstinate sinners: Despisest thou, says he, the riches of his
goodness, and patience, and long-suffering? Knowest thou not that the
benignity of God leadeth thee to penance? But according to thy hardness and
impenitent heart, thou treasurest up to thyself wrath, against the day of
wrath and revelation of the just judgment of God. [84] My dear Theotimus,
God does not therefore employ a simple sufficiency of remedies to convert
the obstinate, but uses to this end the riches of his goodness. The Apostle,
as you see, opposes the riches of God's goodness against the treasures of
the impenitent heart's malice, and says that the malicious heart is so rich
in iniquity that he despises even the riches of the mildness by which God
leads him to repentance; and mark that the obstinate man not only contemns
the riches of God's goodness, but also the riches which lead to penance,
riches whereof one can scarcely be ignorant. Verily this rich, full and
plenteous sufficiency of means which God freely bestows upon sinners to love
him appears almost everywhere in the Scriptures. Behold this divine lover at
the gate, he does not simply knock, but stands knocking; he calls the soul,
come, arise, make haste, my love, [85] and puts his hand into the lock to
try whether he cannot open it. If he uttereth his voice in the streets he
does not simply utter it, but he goes crying out, that is, he continues to
cry out. When he proclaims that every one must be converted, he thinks he
has never repeated it sufficiently. Be converted, do penance, return to me,
live, why dost thou die, O house of Israel? [86] In a word this heavenly
Saviour forgets nothing to show that his mercies are above all his works,
that his mercy surpasses his judgment, that his redemption is copious, that
his love is infinite, and, as the Apostle says, that he is rich in mercy,
and consequently he will have all men to be saved; not willing that any
should perish. [87]

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[78] Luke xii. 49.

[79] Matt. xxii. 37, 38.

[80] Prov. i. 20, 21, 22, 23.

[81] Ezech. xxxiii. 10, 12.

[82] 1 John iii. 14.

[83] Apoc. iii. 20.

[84] Rom. ii. 4., 5.

[85] Cant. ii. 16.

[86] Ezech. xviii. 30.

[87] 1 Tim. ii. 4.
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CHAPTER IX.

HOW THE ETERNAL LOVE OF GOD PREVENTS OUR HEARTS WITH HIS INSPIRATIONS IN
ORDER THAT WE MAY LOVE HIM.

I have loved thee with an everlasting love, therefore have I drawn thee,
taking pity on thee. And I will build thee again, and thou shalt be built, O
virgin of Israel. [88] These are the words of God, by which he promises that
the Saviour coming into the world shall establish a new kingdom in his
Church, which shall be his virgin-spouse, and true spiritual Israelite.

Now as you see, Theotimus, it was not by the works of justice, which we have
done, but according to his mercy he saved us, [89] by that ancient, yea,
eternal, charity which moved his divine Providence to draw us unto him. No
man can come to me except the Father, who hath sent me, draw him. [90] For
if the Father had not drawn us we had never come to the Son, our Saviour,
nor consequently to salvation.

There are certain birds, Theotimus, which Aristotle calls apodes, [91]
because having extremely short legs, and feeble feet, they use them no more
than if they had none. And if ever they light upon the ground they must
remain there, so that they can never take flight again of their own power,
because having no use of their legs or feet, they have therefore no power to
move and start themselves into the air: hence they remain there motionless,
and die, unless some wind, propitious to their impotence, sending out its
blasts upon the face of the earth, happen to seize upon and bear them up, as
it does many other things. If this happen, and they make use of their wings
to correspond with this first start and motion which the wind gives them, it
also continues its assistance to them, bringing them by little and little
into flight.

Theotimus, the angels are like to those birds, which for their beauty and
rarity are called birds-of-paradise, never seen on earth but dead. For those
heavenly spirits had no sooner forsaken divine love to attach themselves to
self-love, than suddenly they fell as dead, buried in hell, seeing that the
same effect which death has on men, separating them everlastingly from this
mortal life, the same had the angels' fall on them, excluding them for ever
from eternal life. But we mortals rather resemble apodes: for if it chance
that we, quitting the air of holy divine love, fall upon earth and adhere to
creatures, which we do as often as we offend God, we die indeed, yet not so
absolute a death but that there remains in us a little movement, besides our
legs and feet, namely, some weak affections, which enable us to make some
essays of love, though so weakly, that in truth we are impotent of ourselves
to detach our hearts from sin, or start ourselves again in the flight of
sacred love, which, wretches that we are, we have perfidiously and
voluntarily forsaken.

And truly we should well deserve to remain abandoned of God, when with this
disloyalty we have thus abandoned him. But his eternal charity does not
often permit his justice to use this chastisement, but rather, exciting his
compassion, it provokes him to reclaim us from our misery, which he does by
sending us the favourable wind of his most holy inspirations, which, blowing
upon our hearts with a gentle violence, seizes and moves them, raising our
thoughts, and moving our affections into the air of divine love.

Now this first stirring or motion which God causes in our hearts to incite
them to their own good, is effected indeed in us but not by us; for it comes
unexpectedly, before we have either thought of it or been able to think of
it, seeing we are not sufficient to think anything towards our salvation of
ourselves as of ourselves, but our sufficiency is from God, [92] who did not
only love us before we were, but also to the end we might be, and might be
saints. For which cause he prevents us with the blessings of his fatherly
sweetness, and excites our souls, in order to bring them to holy repentance
and conversion. See, I pray you, Theotimus, the prince of the Apostles,
stupefied with sin in the sad night of his Master's passion; he no more
thought of sorrowing for his sin, than though he had never known his
heavenly Saviour. And as a miserable apode fallen to earth, he would never
have been raised, had not the cock, as an instrument of divine providence,
struck his ears with its voice, at the same instant in which his sweet
Redeemer casting upon him a gracious look, like a dart of love, transpierced
that heart of stone, which afterwards sent forth water in such abundance,
like the ancient rock smitten by Moses in the desert. But look again and see
this holy Apostle sleeping in Herod's prison, bound with two chains: he is
there in quality of a martyr, and nevertheless he represents the poor man
who sleeps amid sin, prisoner and slave to Satan. Alas! who will deliver
him? The angel descends from heaven, and striking the great Saint Peter, the
prisoner, upon the side, awakens him, saying: Arise quickly! So the
inspiration comes from heaven like an angel, and striking upon the poor
sinner's heart, stirs him up to rise from his iniquity. Is it not true then,
my dear Theotimus, that this first emotion and shock which the soul
perceives, when God, preventing it with love, awakens it and excites it to
forsake sin and return unto him and not only this shock, but also the whole
awakening, is done in us, and for us, but not by us? We are awake, but have
not awakened of ourselves, it is the inspiration which has awakened us, and
to awaken us has shaken and moved us. I slept, says that devout spouse, but
my beloved, who is my heart, watched. Ah! see that it is he who awakens me,
calling me by the name of our loves, and I know well by his voice that it is
he. It is unawares and unexpectedly that God calls and awakens us by his
holy inspiration, and in this beginning of grace we do nothing but feel the
touch which God gives, in us, as S. Bernard says, but without us.

_________________________________________________________________

[88] Jerem. xxxi. 3.

[89] Titus iii. 5.

[90] John vi. 44.

[91] i.e., Footless. [Tr.]

[92] 2 Cor. iii. 5.
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CHAPTER X.

HOW WE OFTENTIMES REPULSE THE INSPIRATION AND REFUSE TO LOVE GOD.

Wo to thee, Corozain, wo to thee, Bethsaida: for if in Tyre and Sidon had
been wrought the miracles that have been wrought in you, they had long ago
done penance in sackcloth and ashes. [93] Such is the word of Our Saviour.
Hark I pray you, Theotimus, how the inhabitants of Corozain and Bethsaida,
instructed in the true religion, and having received favours so great that
they would effectually have converted the pagans themselves, remained
nevertheless obstinate, and never willed to use them, rejecting this holy
light by an incomparable rebellion. Certainly at the day of judgment the
Ninivites and the Queen of Saba will rise up against the Jews, and will
convict them as worthy of damnation: because, as to the Ninivites, though
idolators and barbarians, at the voice of Jonas they were converted and did
penance; and as to the Queen of Saba, she, though engaged in the affairs of
a kingdom, yet having heard the renown of Solomon's wisdom, forsook all, to
go and hear him. Yet the Jews, hearing with their ears the heavenly wisdom
of the true Solomon, the Saviour of the world; seeing with their eyes his
miracles; touching with their hands his virtues and benefits; ceased not for
all that to be hardened, and to resist the grace which was proffered them.
See then again, Theotimus, how they who had less attractions are brought to
penance, and those who had more remain obdurate: those who have less
occasion to come, come to the school of wisdom, and those who have more,
stay in their folly.

Thus will be made the judgment of comparison, as all doctors have remarked,
which can have no foundation save in this, that notwithstanding some have
had as many calls as others have, or more, they will have denied consent to
God's mercy, whereas others, assisted with the like, yea even lesser helps,
will have followed the inspiration, betaking themselves to holy penance. For
how could one otherwise reasonably reproach the impenitent with their
impenitence, in comparison with such as are converted?

Certainly Our Saviour clearly shows, and all Christians in simplicity
understand, that in this just judgment the Jews shall be condemned in
comparison with the Ninivites, because those have had many favours and yet
no love, much assistance and no repentance, these less favour and more love,
less assistance and much penitence.

The great S. Augustine throws a great light on this reasoning, by his own
arguments in Book XII. of the 'City of God,' Chapters vi., vii., viii., ix.
For though he refers particularly to the angels, still he likens men to them
in this point.

Now, after having taken, in the sixth chapter, two men, entirely equal in
goodness and in all things, attacked by the same temptation, he presupposes
that one resists, the other gives way to the enemy; then in the ninth
chapter, having proved that all the angels were created in charity, stating
further as probable that grace and charity were equal in them all, he asks
how it came to pass that some of them persevered, and made progress in
goodness even to the attaining of glory, while others forsook good to
embrace evil unto damnation, and he answers that no other answer can be
rendered, than that the one company persevered by the grace of their Creator
in the chaste love which they received in their creation, the other, having
been good, made themselves bad by their own sole will.

But if it is true, as S. Thomas extremely well proves, that grace was
different in the angels in proportion and according to their natural gifts,
the Seraphim must have had a grace incomparably more excellent than the
simple angels of the last order. How then did it happen that some of the
Seraphim, yea even the first of all, according to the common and most
probable opinion of the ancients, fell, while an innumerable multitude of
other angels, inferior in nature and grace, excellently and courageously
persevered? How came it to pass that Lucifer, so excellent by nature and so
superexcellent by grace, fell, while so many angels with less advantages
remained upright in their fidelity? Truly those who persevered ought to
render all the praise thereof to God, who of his mercy created and
maintained them good. But to whom can Lucifer and all his crew ascribe their
fall, if not, as S. Augustine says, to their own will, which by their
liberty divorced them from God's grace that had so sweetly prevented them?
How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, who didst rise in the morning?
[94] Who didst come out into this invisible world clothed with original
charity as with the beginning of the brightness of a fair day, which was to
increase unto the mid-day of eternal glory? Grace did not fail thee, for
thou hadst it, like thy nature, the most excellent of all, but thou wast
wanting to grace. God did not deprive thee of the operation of his love, but
thou didst deprive his love of thy co-operation. God would never have
rejected thee if thou hadst not rejected his love. O all-good God! thou dost
not forsake unless forsaken, thou never takest away thy gifts till we take
away our hearts.

We rob God of his right if we attribute to ourselves the glory of our
salvation, but we dishonour his mercy if we say he failed us. If we do not
confess his benefits we wrong his liberality, but we blaspheme his goodness
if we deny that he has assisted and succoured us. In fine, God cries loud
and clear in our ears: Destruction is thy own, O Israel: thy help is only in
me. [95]

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[93] Matt. xi. 21.

[94] Isa. xiv. 12.

[95] Osee xiii. 9.
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CHAPTER XI.

THAT IT IS NO FAULT OF THE DIVINE GOODNESS IF WE HAVE NOT A MOST EXCELLENT
LOVE.

O God! Theotimus, if we received divine inspirations to the full extent of
their virtue, in how short a time should we make a great progress in
sanctity? Be the fountain ever so copious, its streams enter not into a
garden according to their plenty, but according to the littleness or
greatness of the channel by which they are conducted thither. Although the
Holy Ghost, as a spring of living water, flows up to every part of our heart
to spread his graces in it, yet as he will not have them enter without the
free consent of our will, he will only pour them out according to his good
pleasure and our own disposition and cooperation, as the Holy Council says,
which also, by reason, as I suppose, of the correspondence between our
consent and grace, calls the reception thereof a voluntary reception.

In this sense S. Paul exhorts us not to receive God's grace in vain. [96]
For as a sick man, who having received a draught in his hand did not take it
into his stomach, would truly have received the potion, yet without
receiving it, that is, he would have received it in a useless and fruitless
way, so we receive the grace of God in vain, when we receive it at the gate
of our heart, and not within the consent of our heart; for so we receive it
without receiving it, that is, we receive it without fruit, since it is
nothing to feel the inspiration without consenting unto it. And as the sick
man who had the potion given into his hand, if he took it not wholly but
only partly, would also have the operation thereof in part only, and not
wholly,so when God sends a great and mighty inspiration to move us to
embrace his holy love, if we consent not according to its whole extent it
will but profit us in the same measure. It happens that being inspired to do
much we consent not to the whole inspiration but only to some part thereof,
as did those good people in the Gospel, who upon the inspiration which Our
Lord gave them to follow him wished to make reservations, the one to go
first and bury his father, the other to go to take leave of his people.

As long as the poor widow had empty vessels, the oil which Eliseus had by
prayer miraculously multiplied never left off running, but when she had no
more vessels to receive it, it ceased to flow. In the same measure in which
our heart dilates itself, or rather in the measure in which it permits
itself to be enlarged and dilated, keeping itself empty by the simple fact
of not refusing consent to the divine mercy, this ever pours forth and
ceaselessly spreads its sacred inspirations, which ever increase and make us
increase more and more in heavenly love; but when there is no more room,
that is, when we no longer give consent, it stops.

How comes it then that we are not so advanced in the love of God as S.
Augustine, S. Francis, S. Catharine of Genoa or S. Frances? Theotimus, it is
because God has not given us the grace. But why has he not given us the
grace? Because we did not correspond with his inspirations as we should have
done. And why did we not correspond? Because being free we have herein
abused our liberty. But why did we abuse our liberty? Ah! Theotimus, we must
stop there, for, as S. Augustine says, the depravation of our will proceeds
from no cause, but from some deficiency in the agent (cause) who commits the
sin. And we must not expect to be able to give a reason of the fault which
occurs in sin, because the fault would not be a sin if it was not without
reason.

The devout Brother Rufinus upon a certain vision which he had of the glory
which the great S. Francis would attain unto by his humility, asked him this
question: My dear father, I beseech you, tell me truly what opinion you have
of yourself? The Saint answered: Verily I hold myself to be the greatest
sinner in the world, and the one who serves Our Lord least. But, Brother
Rufinus replied, how can you say this in truth and conscience, seeing that
many others, as we manifestly see, commit many great sins from which, God be
thanked, you are exempt. To which S. Francis answered: If God had favoured
those others of whom you speak with as great mercy as he has favoured me, I
am certain, be they ever so bad now, they would have acknowledged God's
gifts far better than I do, and would serve him much better than I do, and
if my God abandoned me I should commit more wickedness than any one else.

You see, Theotimus, the opinion of this man, who indeed was scarcely man,
but a seraph upon earth. I know it was humility that moved him to speak thus
of himself, yet nevertheless he believed for a certain truth that an equal
grace granted by an equal mercy might be more faithfully employed by one
sinner than by anothor. Now I hold for an oracle the sentiment of this great
doctor in the science of the saints, who, brought up in the school of the
Crucifix, breathed nothing but the divine inspirations. And this maxim has
been praised and repeated by all the most devout who have followed him, many
of whom are of opinion that the great Apostle S. Paul said in the same sense
that he was the chief of all sinners. [97]

The Blessed Mother (S.) Teresa of Jesus, also, in good truth, a quite
angelic virgin, speaking of the prayer of quiet, says these words:"There
are divers souls who come up to this perfection, but those who pass beyond
are a very small number: I know not the cause of it, certainly the fault is
not on God's side, for since his divine majesty aids us and gives us the
grace to arrive at this point, I believe that he would not fail to give us
still more if it were not for our fault, and the impediment which we on our
part place." Let us therefore, Theotimus, be attentive to advance in the
love which we owe to God, for that which he bears us will never fail us.

_________________________________________________________________

[96] 2 Cor. vi. 1.

[97] 1 Tim. i. 15.
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CHAPTER XII.

THAT DIVINE INSPIRATIONS LEAVE US IN FULL LIBERTY TO FOLLOW OR REPULSE THEM.

I will not here speak, my dear Theotimus, of those miraculous graces which
have almost in an instant transformed wolves into shepherds, rocks into
waters, persecutors into preachers. I leave on one side those all-powerful
vocations, and holily violent attractions by which God has brought some
elect souls from the extremity of vice to the extremity of grace, working as
it were in them a certain moral and spiritual transubstantiation: as it
happened to the great Apostle, who of Saul, vessel of persecution, became
suddenly Paul, vessel of election. [98] We must give a particular rank to
those privileged souls in regard of whom it pleased God to make not the mere
outflowing, but the inundationto exercise, if one may so say, not the
simple liberality and effusion, but the prodigality and profusion of his
love. The divine justice chastises us in this world with punishments which,
as they are ordinary, so they remain almost always unknown and
imperceptible; sometimes, however, he sends out deluges and abysses of
punishments, to make known and dreaded the severity of his indignation. In
like manner his mercy ordinarily converts and graces souls so sweetly,
gently and delicately, that its movement is scarcely perceived; and yet it
happens sometimes that this sovereign goodness, overflowing its ordinary
banks (as a flood swollen and overcharged with the abundance of waters and
breaking out over the plain) makes an outpouring of his graces so impetuous,
though loving, that in a moment he steeps and covers the whole soul with
benedictions, in order that the riches of his love may appear, and that as
his justice proceeds commonly by the ordinary way and sometimes by the
extraordinary, so his mercy may exercise liberality upon the common sort of
men in the ordinary way, and on some also by extraordinary ways.

But what are then the ordinary cords whereby the divine providence is
accustomed to draw our hearts to his love? Such truly as he himself marks,
describing the means which he used to draw the people of Israel out of
Egypt, and out of the desert, unto the land of promise. I will draw them,
says he by Osee, with the cords of Adam, with the bands of love, [99] and of
friendship. Doubtless, Theotimus, we are not drawn to God by iron chains, as
bulls and wild oxen, but by enticements, sweet attractions, and holy
inspirations, which, in a word, are the cords of Adam, and of humanity, that
is, proportionate and adapted to the human heart, to which liberty is
natural. The band of the human will is delight and pleasure. We show nuts to
a child, says S. Augustine, and he is drawn by his love, he is drawn by the
cords, not of the body, but of the heart. Mark then how the Eternal Father
draws us: while teaching, he delights us, not imposing upon us any
necessity; he casts into our hearts delectations and spiritual pleasures as
sacred baits, by which he sweetly draws us to take and taste the sweetness
of his doctrine.

In this way then, dearest Theotimus, our free-will is in no way forced or
necessitated by grace, but notwithstanding the all-powerful force of God's
merciful hand, which touches, surrounds and ties the soul with such a number
of inspirations, invitations and attractions, this human will remains
perfectly free, enfranchised and exempt from every sort of constraint and
necessity. Grace is so gracious, and so graciously seizes our hearts to draw
them, that she noways offends the liberty of our will; she touches
powerfully but yet so delicately the springs of our spirit that our free
will suffers no violence from it. Grace has power, not to force but to
entice the heart; she has a holy violence not to violate our liberty but to
make it full of love; she acts strongly, yet so sweetly that our will is not
overwhelmed by so powerful an action; she presses us but does not oppress
our liberty; so that under the very action of her power, we can consent to
or resist her movements as we list. But what is as admirable as it is
veritable is, that when our will follows the attractions and consents to the
divine movement, she follows as freely as she resists freely when she does
resist, although the consent to grace depends much more on grace than on the
will, while the resistance to grace depends upon the will only. So sweet is
God's hand in the handling of our hearts! So dexterous is it in
communicating unto us its strength without depriving us of liberty, and in
imparting unto us the motion of its power without hindering that of our
will! He adjusts his power to his sweetness in such sort, that as in what
regards good his might sweetly gives us the power, so his sweetness mightily
maintains the freedom of the will. If thou didst know the gift of God, said
our Saviour to the Samaritan woman, and who he is that saith to thee, give
me to drink; thou perhaps wouldst have asked of him, and he would have given
thee living water. [100] Note, I pray you, Theotimus, Our Saviour's manner
of speaking of his attractions. If thou didst know, he means, the gift of
God, thou wouldst without doubt be moved and attracted to ask the water of
eternal life, and perhaps thou wouldst ask it. As though he said: Thou
wouldst have power and wouldst be provoked to ask, yet in no wise be forced
or constrained; but only perhaps thou wouldst have asked, for thy liberty
would remain to ask it or not to ask it. Such are our Saviour's words
according to the ordinary edition, and according to S. Augustine upon S.
John.

To conclude, if any one should say that our free-will does not co-operate in
consenting to the grace with which God prevents it, or that it could not
reject and deny consent thereto, he would contradict the whole Scripture,
all the ancient Fathers, and experience, and would be excommunicated by the
sacred Council of Trent. But when it is said that we have power to reject
the divine inspirations and motions, it is of course not meant that we can
hinder God from inspiring us or touching our hearts, for as I have already
said, that is done in us and yet without us. These are favours which God
bestows upon us before we have thought of them, he awakens us when we sleep,
and consequently we find ourselves awake before we have thought of it; but
it is in our power to rise, or not to rise, and though he has awakened us
without us, he will not raise us without us. Now not to rise, and to go to
sleep again, is to resist the call, seeing we are called only to the end we
should rise. We cannot hinder the inspiration from taking us, or
consequently from setting us in motion, but if as it drives us forwards we
repulse it by not yielding ourselves to its motion, we then make resistance.
So the wind, having seized upon and raised our apodes, will not bear them
very far unless they display their wings and co-operate, raising themselves
aloft and flying in the air, into which they have been lifted. If, on the
contrary, allured may be by some verdure they see upon the ground, or
benumbed by their stay there, in lieu of seconding the wind they keep their
wings folded and cast themselves again upon the earth, they have received
indeed the motion of the wind, but in vain, since they did not help
themselves thereby. Theotimus, inspirations prevent us, and even before they
are thought of make themselves felt, but after we have felt them it is ours
either to consent to them so as to second and follow their attractions, or
else to dissent and repulse them. They make themselves felt by us without
us, but they do not make us consent without us.

_________________________________________________________________

[98] Acts ix. 15.

[99] Osee xi. 4.

[100] John iv. 10.
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CHAPTER XIII.

OF THE FIRST SENTIMENTS OF LOVE WHICH DIVINE INSPIRATIONS CAUSE IN THE SOUL
BEFORE SHE HAS FAITH.

The wind that raises the apodes blows first upon their feathers, as the
parts most light and most susceptible of its agitation, by which it gives
the beginning of motion to their wings, extending and displaying them in
such sort that they give a hold by which to seize the bird and waft it into
the air. And if they, thus raised, do contribute the motion of their wings
to that of the wind, the same wind that took them will still aid them more
and more to fly with ease. Even so, my dear Theotimus, when the inspiration,
as a sacred gale, comes to blow us forward into the air of holy love, it
first takes our will, and by the sentiment of some heavenly delectation it
moves it, extending and unfolding the natural inclination which the will has
to good, so that this same inclination serves as a hold by which to seize
our spirit. And all this, as I have said, is done in us without us, for it
is the divine favour that prevents us in this sort. But if our will thus
holily prevented, perceiving the wings of her inclination moved, displayed,
extended, stirred, and agitated, by this heavenly wind, contributes, be it
never so little, its consentAh! how happy it is, Theotimus. The same
favourable inspiration which has seized us, mingling its action with our
consent, animating our feeble motions with its vigour, and vivifying our
weak cooperation by the power of its operation, will aid, conduct, and
accompany us, from love to love, even unto the act of most holy faith
requisite for our conversion.

True God! Theotimus, what a consolation it is to consider the secret method
by which the Holy Ghost pours into our hearts the first rays and feelings of
his light and vital heat! O Jesus! how delightful a pleasure it is to see
celestial love, which is the sun of virtues, as little by little with a
progress which insensibly becomes sensible, it displays its light upon a
soul, and stops not till it has it all covered with the splendour of its
presence, giving it at last the perfect beauty of love's day! O how
cheerful, beautiful, sweet and agreeable this daybreak is! Nevertheless true
it is that break of day is either not day, or if it be day, it is but a
beginning day, a rising of the day, and rather the infancy of the day than
the day itself. In like manner without doubt these motions of love which
forerun the act of faith required for our justification are either not love
properly speaking, or but a beginning and imperfect love. They are the first
verdant buds which the soul, warmed with the heavenly sun, begins, as a
mystical tree, to put forth in springtime, rather presages of fruit than
fruit itself.

S. Pachomius then a young soldier and without knowledge of God, enrolled
under the colours of the army which Constantine had levied against the
tyrant Maxentius, came, with the troop to which he belonged, to lodge nigh a
little town not far distant from Thebes, where he, and indeed the whole
army, were in extreme want of victuals. The inhabitants of the little town
having understood this, being by good fortune of the faithful of Jesus
Christ, and consequently friendly and charitable to their neighbours,
immediately succoured the soldiers in their necessities, but with such care,
courtesy and love, that Pachomius was struck with admiration thereat, and
asking what nation it was that was so good, amiable and gracious, it was
answered him that they were Christians; and inquiring again what law and
manner of life were theirs, he learned that they believed in Jesus Christ
the only Son of God, and did good to all sorts of people, with a firm hope
of receiving from God himself an ample recompense. Alas! Theotimus, the poor
Pachomius, though of a good natural disposition, was as yet asleep in the
bed of his infidelity, and behold how upon a sudden God was present at the
gate of his heart, and by the good example of these Christians, as by a
sweet voice, he calls him, awakens him, and gives him the first feelings of
the vital heat of his love. For scarcely had he heard, as I have said, of
the sweet law of Our Saviour, than, all filled with a new light and interior
consolation, having retired apart, and mused for a space, he lifted up his
hands towards heaven, and with a profound sigh he said: Lord God, who hast
made heaven and earth, if thou deign to cast thine eyes upon my baseness and
misery, and to give me the knowledge of thy divinity, I promise to serve
thee, and obey thy commandments all the days of my life! After this prayer
and promise, the love of the true good and of piety so increased in him,
that he ceased not to practise a thousand thousand acts of virtue.

Methinks I see in this example a nightingale which, awaking at the peep of
day, begins to stir, and to stretch itself, unfold its plumes, skip from
branch to branch in its grove, and little by little warble out its delicious
wood-music. For did you not note, how the good example of the charitable
Christians excited and awakened with a sudden start the blessed Pachomius?
Truly this astonished admiration he had was nothing else than his awakening,
in which God touched him, as the sun touches the earth, with a ray of his
brightness, which filled him with a great feeling of spiritual pleasure. For
which cause Pachomius shakes himself loose from distractions, to the end he
may with more attention and facility gather together and relish the grace he
has received, withdrawing himself to think thereupon. Then he extends his
heart and hands towards heaven, whither the inspiration is drawing him, and
beginning to display the wings of his affections, flying between diffidence
of himself, and confidence in God, he entones in a humbly amorous air the
canticle of his conversion. He first testifies that he already knows one
only God Creator of heaven and earth: but withal he knows that he does not
yet know him sufficiently to serve him as he ought, and therefore he
petitions that a more perfect knowledge may be imparted to him, that thereby
he may come to the perfect service of his divine majesty.

Behold, therefore, I pray you, Theotimus, how gently God moves,
strengthening by little and little the grace of his inspiration in
consenting hearts, drawing them after him, as it were step by step, upon
this Jacob's ladder. But what are his drawings? The first, by which he
prevents and awakens us, is done by him in us and without our action; all
the others are also done by him and in us, but not without our action. Draw
me: says the sacred spouse, we will run after thee to the odour of thy
ointments, [101] that is, begin thou first: I cannot awake of myself, I
cannot move unless thou move me; but when thou shalt once have given motion,
then, O dear spouse of my heart, we run, we two, thou runnest before me
drawing me ever forward, and, as for me, I will follow thee in thy course
consenting to thy drawing. But let no one think that thou draggest me after
thee like a forced slave, or a lifeless wagon. Ah! no, thou drawest me by
the odour of thy ointments; though I follow thee, it is not that thou
trailest me but that thou enticest me; thy drawing is mighty, but not
violent, since its whole force lies in its sweetness. Perfumes have no other
force to draw men to follow them than their sweetness, and sweetnesshow
could it draw but sweetly and delightfully?

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[101] Cant. i. 3.
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CHAPTER XIV.

OF THE SENTIMENT OF DIVINE LOVE WHICH IS HAD BY FAITH.

When God gives us faith he enters into our soul and speaks to our spirit,
not by manner of discourse, but by way of inspiration, proposing in so sweet
a manner unto the understanding that which ought to be believed, that the
will receives therefrom a great complacency, so great indeed that it moves
the understanding to consent and yield to truth without any doubt or
distrust, and here lies the marvel: for God proposes the mysteries of faith
to our souls amidst obscurities and darkness, in such sort that we do not
see the truths but we only half-see them. [102] It is like what happens
sometimes when the face of the earth is covered with mist so that we cannot
see the sun, but only see a little more brightness in the direction where he
is. Then, as one would say, we see it without seeing it; because on the one
hand we see it not so well that we can truly say we see it, yet again we see
it not so little that we can say we do not see it; and this is what we call
half-seeing. And yet, when this obscure light of faith has entered our
spirit, not by force of reasoning or show of argument, but solely by the
sweetness of its presence, it makes the understanding believe and obey it
with so much authority that the certitude it gives us of the truth surpasses
all other certitudes, and keeps the understanding and all its workings in
such subjection that they get no hearing in comparison with it.

May I, Theotimus, have leave to say this? Faith is the chief beloved of our
understanding, and may justly speak to human sciences which boast that they
are more evident and clear than she, as did the sacred spouse to the other
shepherdesses. I am black but beautiful, [103]O human reasonings, O
acquired knowledge! I am black, for I am amidst the obscurities of simple
revelation, which have no apparent evidence, and which make me look black,
putting me well-nigh out of knowledge: yet I am beautiful in myself by
reason of my infinite certainty; and if mortal eyes could behold me such as
I am by nature they would find me all fair. And must it not necessarily
follow that in effect I am infinitely to be loved, since the gloomy darkness
and thick mists, amid which I amnot seen but only half-seen cannot hinder
me from being so dearly loved, that the soul, prizing me above all, cleaving
the crowd of all other knowledges, makes them all give place to me and
receives me as his queen, placing me on the highest throne in his palace,
from whence I give the law to all sciences, and keep all argument and all
human sense under? Yea, verily, Theotimus, even as the commanders of the
army of Israel taking off their garments, put them together and made a royal
throne of them, on which they placed Jehu, and said: Jehu is king: [104] so
on the arrival of faith, the understanding puts off all discourse and
arguments, and laying them underneath faith, makes her sit upon them,
acknowledging her as Queen, and with great joy cries out: Long live faith!

Pious discourses and arguments, the miracles and other advantages of the
Christian religion, make it extremely credible and knowable, but faith alone
makes it believed and acknowledged, enamouring men with the beauty of its
truth, and making them believe the truth of its beauty, by means of the
sweetness faith pours into their wills, and the certitude which it gives to
their understanding. The Jews saw the miracles and heard the marvellous
teachings of Our Saviour, but being indisposed to receive faith, that is,
their will not being susceptible of the gentle sweetness of faith, on
account of the bitterness and malice with which they were filled, they
persisted in their infidelity. They perceived the force of the argument, but
they relished not the sweetness of the conclusion, and therefore did not
acquiesce in its truth. But the act of faith consists in this very
acquiescence of our spirit, which having received the grateful light of
truth, accepts it by means of a sweet, yet powerful and solid assurance and
certitude which it finds in the authority of the revelation which has been
made to her.

You have heard, Theotimus, that in general councils there are great
disputations and inquiries made about truth by discourse, reasons and
theological arguments, but the matters being discussed, the Fathers, that
is, the bishops, and especially the Pope who is the chief of the bishops,
conclude, resolve and determine; and the determination being once
pronounced, every one fully accepts it and acquiesces in it, not in
consideration of the reasons alleged in the preceding discussion and
inquisition, but in virtue of the authority of the Holy Ghost, who,
presiding invisibly in councils, has judged, determined and concluded, by
the mouth of his servants whom he has established pastors of Christianity.
The inquisition then and the disputation are made in the priests' court by
the doctors, but the resolution and acquiescence are formed in the
sanctuary, where the Holy Ghost who animates the body of his Church, speaks
by the mouth of its chiefs, as Our Lord has promised. In like manner the
ostrich lays her eggs upon the sands of Libya, but the sun alone hatches her
young ones; and doctors by their inquiry and discourse propose truth, but
only the beams of the sun of justice give certainty and acquiescence. To
conclude then, Theotimus, this assurance which man's reason finds in things
revealed and in the mysteries of faith, begins by an amorous sentiment of
complacency which the will receives from the beauty and sweetness of the
proposed truth; so that faith includes a beginning of love, which the heart
feels towards divine things.

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[102] Nous ne voyons pas, ains seluement nous entrevoyons.

[103] Cant. i. 4.

[104] 4 Kings ix. 13.
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CHAPTER XV.

OF THE GREAT SENTIMENT OF LOVE WHICH WE RECEIVE BY HOLY HOPE.

As when exposed to the rays of the sun at mid-day, we hardly see the
brightness before we suddenly feel the heat; so the light of faith has no
sooner spread the splendour of its truths in our understanding, but
immediately our will feels the holy heat of heavenly love. Faith makes us
know by an infallible certitude that God is, that he is infinite in
goodness, that he can communicate himself unto us, and not only that he can,
but that he will; so that by an ineffable sweetness he has provided us with
all things requisite to obtain the happiness of immortal glory. Now we have
a natural inclination to the sovereign good, by reason of which our heart is
touched with a certain inward anxious desire and continual uneasiness, not
being able in any way to quiet itself, or to cease to testify that its
perfect satisfaction and solid contentment are wanting to it. But when holy
faith has represented to our understanding this lovely object of our natural
inclination,Oh! Theotimus, what joy! what pleasure! how our whole soul is
thrilled, and, all amazed at the sight of so excellent a beauty, it cries
out with love: Behold, thou art fair, my beloved, behold thou art fair!
[105]

Eliezer sought a wife for the son of his master Abraham; how could he tell
whether he should find her beautiful and gracious as he desired? But when he
had found her at the fountain, and saw her so excellent in beauty and so
perfect in sweetness, and especially when he had obtained her, he adored
God, and blessed him with thanksgiving, full of incomparable joy. Man's
heart tends to God by its natural inclination, without fully knowing what he
is; but when it finds him at the fountain of faith, and sees him so good, so
lovely, so sweet and gracious to all, and so ready to give himself, as the
sovereign good, to all who desire him,O God! what delight! and what sacred
movements in the soul, to unite itself for ever to this goodness so
sovereignty amiable! I have found, says the soul thus inspired, I have at
last found that which my heart desired, and now I am at rest. And as Jacob,
having seen the fair Rachel, after he had holily kissed her, melted into
tears of sweetness for the happiness he experienced in so desirable a
meeting, so our poor heart, having found God, and received of him the first
kiss, the kiss of holy faith, it dissolves forthwith in sweetness of love
for the infinite good which it presently discovers in that sovereign beauty.

We sometimes experience in ourselves a certain joyousness which comes as it
were unexpectedly, without any apparent reason, and this is often a presage
of some greater joy; whence many are of opinion that our good angels,
foreseeing the good which is coming unto us, give us by this means a
foretaste thereof, as on the contrary they give us certain fears and terrors
amidst dangers we are not aware of, to make us invoke God's assistance and
stand upon our guard. Now when the presaged good arrives, we receive it with
open arms, and reflecting upon the joyousness we formerly felt without
knowing its cause, we only then begin to perceive that it was a forerunner
of the happiness we now enjoy. Even so, my dear Theotimus, our heart having
had for so long a time an inclination to its sovereign good, knew not to
what end this motion tended: but so soon as faith has shown it, then man
clearly discerns that this was what his soul coveted, his understanding
sought, and his inclination tended towards. Certainly, whether we wish or
wish not, our soul tends towards the sovereign good. But what is this
sovereign good? We are like those good Athenians who sacrificed unto the
true God, although he was unknown to them, till the great S. Paul taught
them the knowledge of him. For so our heart, by a deep and secret instinct,
in all its actions tends towards, and aims at, felicity, seeking it here and
there, as it were groping, without knowing where it resides, or in what it
consists, till faith shows and describes the infinite marvels thereof. But
then, having found the treasure it sought for,ah! what a satisfaction to
this poor human heart! What joy, what complacency of love! O I have met with
him, whom my heart sought for without knowing him! O how little I knew
whither my aims tended, when nothing contented me of all I aimed at,
because, in fact, I knew not what I was aiming at. I was seeking to love and
knew not what to love, and therefore my intention not finding its true love,
my love remained ever in a true but ignorant intention. I had indeed
sufficient foretaste of love to make me seek, but not sufficient knowledge
of the goodness I had to love, to actually practise love.

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[105] Cant. i. 14.
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CHAPTER XVI.

HOW LOVE IS PRACTISED IN HOPE.

Man's understanding then, being property applied to the consideration of
that which faith represents to it touching its sovereign good, the will
instantly conceives an extreme complacency in this divine object, which, as
yet absent, begets an ardent desire of its presence, whence the soul holily
cries out: Let him kiss me with the kiss of his mouth. [106] My soul panteth
after thee, O God. [107]

And as the unhooded falcon having her prey in view suddenly launches herself
upon the wing, and if held in her leash struggles upon the hand with extreme
ardour; so faith, having drawn the veil of ignorance, and made us see our
sovereign good, whom nevertheless we cannot yet possess, detained by the
condition of this mortal life,Ah! Theotimus, we then desire it in such sort
that, as the hart panteth after the fountains of waters; so my soul panteth
after thee, O God! My soul hath thirsted after the strong living God; when
shall I come and appear before the face of God? [108]

This desire is just, Theotimus, for who would not desire so desirable a
good? But it would be a useless desire, and would be but a continual torment
to our heart if we had not assurance that we should at length satiate it. He
who on account of the delay of this happiness, protests that his tears were
his ordinary bread day and night, so long as his God was absent, and his
enemies demanded: where is thy God? [109]Alas! what would he have done if
he had not had some hope of one day enjoying this good, after which he
sighed. The divine spouse goes weeping and languishing with love, [110]
because she does not at once find the well-beloved she is searching for. The
love of the well-beloved had bred in her a desire, that desire begot an
ardour to pursue it, and that ardour caused in her a languishing which would
have consumed and annihilated her poor heart, unless she had hoped at length
to meet with what she sought after. So then, lest the unrest and dolorous
languor which the efforts of desiring love cause in our souls should make us
fail in courage or reduce us to despair, the same sovereign good which moves
in us so vehement a desire, also by a thousand thousand promises made in his
Word and his inspirations, gives us assurance, that we may with ease obtain
it, provided always that we will to employ the means which he has prepared
for use and offers us to this effect.

Now these divine promises and assurances, by a particular marvel, increase
the cause of our disquiet, and yet, while they increase the cause, they undo
and destroy the effects. Yea, verily, Theotimus; for the assurance which God
gives us that paradise is ours, infinitely strengthens the desire we have to
enjoy it, and yet weakens, yea altogether destroys, the trouble and disquiet
which this desire brought unto us; so that our hearts by the promises which
the divine goodness has made us, remain quite calmed, and this calm is the
root of the most holy virtue which we call hope. For the will, assured by
faith that she has power to enjoy the sovereign good by using the means
appointed, makes two great acts of virtue: by the one she expects from God
the fruition of his sovereign goodness, by the other she aspires to that
holy fruition.

And indeed, Theotimus, between hoping and aspiring (esperer et aspirer)
there is but this difference, that we hope for those things which we expect
to get by another's assistance, and we aspire unto those things which we
think to reach by means that lie in our own power. And since we attain the
fruition of our sovereign good, which is God, by his favour, grace and
mercy, and yet the same mercy will have us co-operate with his favour, by
contributing the weakness of our consent to the strength of his grace; our
hope is thence in some sort mingled with aspiring, so that we do not
altogether hope without aspiring, nor do we ever aspire without entirely
hoping. Hope then keeps ever the principal place, as being founded upon
divine grace, without which, as we cannot even so much as think of our
sovereign good in the way required to reach it, so can we never without this
grace aspire towards our sovereign God in the way required to obtain it.

Aspiration then is a scion of hope, as our co-operation is of grace: and as
those that would hope without aspiring, would be rejected as cowardly and
negligent; so those that should aspire without hoping, would be rash,
insolent and presumptuous. But when hope is seconded with aspiration, when,
hoping we aspire and aspiring we hope, then dear Theotimus, hope by
aspiration becomes a courageous desire, and aspiration is changed by hope
into a humble claim, and we hope and aspire as God inspires us. But both are
caused by that desiring love which tends to our sovereign good, to that good
which the more surely it is hoped for, the more it is loved; yea hope is no
other thing than the loving complacency we take in the expecting and seeking
our sovereign good. All that is there is love, Theotimus. As soon as faith
has shown me my sovereign good, I have loved it; and because it was absent I
have desired it, and having understood that it would bestow itself upon me,
I have loved and desired it yet more ardently; for indeed its goodness is so
much more to be beloved and desired by how much more it is disposed to
communicate itself. Now by this progress love has turned its desire into
hope, seeking and expectation, so that hope is an expectant and aspiring
love; and because the sovereign good which hope expects is God, and because
also she expects it from God himself, to whom and by whom she hopes and
aspires, this holy virtue of hope, abutting everywhere on God, is by
consequence a divine or theological virtue.

_________________________________________________________________

[106] Cant. i. 1.

[107] Ps. xli. 1.

[108] Ibid. 1, 2.

[109] Ps. xli. 4.

[110] Cant. v. 8.
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CHAPTER XVII.

THAT THE LOVE WHICH IS IN HOPE IS VERY GOOD, THOUGH IMPERFECT.

The love which we practise in hope goes indeed to God, Theotimus, but it
returns to us; its sight is turned upon the divine goodness, yet with some
respect to our own profit; it tends to that supreme perfection, but aiming
at our own satisfaction. That is to say, it bears us to God, not because he
is sovereignty good in himself, but because he is sovereignty good to us, in
which as you see there is something of the our and the us, so that this love
is truly love, but love of cupidity and self-interest. Yet I do not say that
it does in such sort return to ourselves that it makes us love God only for
the love of ourselves; O God! no: for the soul which should only love God
for the love of herself, placing the end of the love which she bears to God
in her own interest, would, alas! commit an extreme sacrilege. If a wife
loved her husband only for the love of his servant, she would love her
husband as a servant, and his servant as a husband: and the soul that only
loves God for love of herself, loves herself as she ought to love God, and
God as she ought to love herself.

But there is a great difference between this expression: I love God for the
good which I expect from him, and this: I only love God for the good which I
expect from him: as again it is a very different thing to say: I love God
for myself: and I love God for the love of myself. For when I say I love God
for myself, it is as if I said: I love to have God, I love that God should
be mine, should be my sovereign good; which is a holy affection of the
heavenly spouse, who a hundred times in excess of delight protests: My
beloved to me, and I to him, who feedeth among the lilies. [111] But to say:
I love God for love of myself, is as if one should say; the love which I
bear to myself is the end for which I love God; in such sort that the love
of God would be dependent, subordinate, and inferior to self-love, to our
love for ourselves, which is a matchless impiety.

This love, then, which we term hope, is a love of cupidity, but of a holy
and well-ordered cupidity, by means whereof we do not draw God to us nor to
our utility, but we adjoin ourselves unto him as to our final felicity. By
this love we love ourselves together with God, yet not preferring or
equalizing ourselves to him; in this love the love of ourselves is mingled
with that of God, but that of God floats on the top; our own love enters
indeed, but as a simple motive, not as a principal end; our own interest has
some place there, but God holds the principal rank. Yes, without doubt,
Theotimus: for when we love God as our sovereign good, we love him for a
quality by which we do not refer him to us but ourselves to him. We are not
his end, aim, or perfection, but he is ours; he does not appertain to us,
but we to him; he depends not on us but we on him; and, in a word, by the
quality of sovereign good for which we love him, he receives nothing of us,
but we receive of him. He exercises towards us his affluence and goodness,
and we our indigence and scarcity; so that to love God under the title of
sovereign good is to love him under an honourable and respectful title, by
which we acknowledge him to be our perfection, repose and end, in the
fruition of which our felicity consists. Some goods there are which we use
for ourselves when we employ them, as our slaves, servants, horses, clothes:
and the love which we bear unto them is a love of pure cupidity, since we
love them only for our own profit. Other goods there are which we possess,
but with a possession which is reciprocal and equal on each side, as in the
case of our friends: for the love we have unto them inasmuch as they content
us is indeed a love of cupidity, yet of an honest cupidity, by which they
are ours and we similarly theirs, they belong to us and we equally to them.
But there are yet other goods which we possess with a possession of
dependence, participation and subjection, as we do the benevolence, or
presence, or favour of our pastors, princes, father, mother: for the love
which we bear unto them is then truly a love of cupidity, when we love them
in that they are our pastors, our princes, our fathers, our mothers, since
it is not precisely the quality of pastor, nor of prince, nor of father, nor
of mother, which is the cause of our affection towards them, but the fact
that they are so to us and in our regard. Still this cupidity is a love of
respect, reverence and honour; for we love our father, for example, not
because he is ours but because we are his; and after the same manner it is
that we love and aspire to God by hope, not to the end he may become our
good, but because he is it; not to the end he may become ours, but because
we are his; not as though he existed for us, but inasmuch as we exist for
him.

And note, Theotimus, that in this love, the reason why we love (that is, why
we apply our heart to the love of the good which we desire) is because it is
our good; but the measure and quantity of this love depend on the excellence
and dignity of the good which we love. We love our benefactors because they
are such to us, but we love them more or less as they are more or less our
benefactors. Why then do we love God, Theotimus, with this love of cupidity?
Because he is our good. But why do we sovereignly love him? Because he is
our sovereign good.

But when I say we love God sovereignly, I do not therefore say that we love
him with sovereign love. Sovereign love is only in charity, whereas in hope
love is imperfect, because it does not tend to his infinite goodness as
being such in itself, but only because it is such to us. Still, because in
this kind of love there is no motive more excellent than that which proceeds
from the consideration of the sovereign good, we say that by it we love
sovereignly, though in real truth no one is able by virtue of this love
either to keep God's commandments, or obtain life everlasting, because it is
a love that yields more affection than effect, when it is not accompanied
with charity.

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[111] Cant. ii. 16.
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CHAPTER XVIII.

THAT LOVE IS EXERCISED IN PENITENCE, AND FIRST, THAT THERE ARE DIVERS SORTS
OF PENITENCE.

To speak generally, penitence is a repentance whereby a man rejects and
detests the sin he has committed, with the resolution to repair as much as
in him lies the offence and injury done to him against whom he has sinned. I
comprehend in penitence a purpose to repair the offence, because that
repentance does not sufficiently detest the fault which voluntarily permits
the principal effect thereof, to wit the offence and injury, to subsist; and
it permits it to subsist, so long as, being able in some sort to make
reparation, it does not do so.

I omit here the penitence of certain pagans, who, as Tertullian witnesses,
had some appearances of it amongst them, but so vain and fruitless that they
often had penitence for having done well; for I speak only of virtuous
penitence, which according to the different motives whence it proceeds is
also of various species. There is one sort purely moral and human, as was
that of Alexander the Great, who having slain his dear Clitus determined to
starve himself to death, so great, says Cicero, was the force of penitence:
or that of Alcibiades, who, being convinced by Socrates that he was not a
wise man, began to weep bitterly, being sorrowful and afflicted for not
being what he ought to have been, as S. Augustine says. Aristotle also,
recognising this sort of penitence, assures us that the intemperate man who
of set purpose gives himself over to pleasures is wholly incorrigible,
because he cannot repent, and he that is without repentance is incurable.

Certainly, Seneca, Plutarch and the Pythagoreans, who so highly commend the
examen of conscience, but especially the first, who speaks so feelingly of
the torment which interior remorse excites in the soul, must have understood
that there was a repentance; and as for the sage Epictetus, he so well
describes the way in which a man should reprehend himself that it could
scarcely be better expressed.

There is yet another penitence which is indeed moral, yet religious too, yea
in some sort divine, proceeding from the natural knowledge which we have of
our offending God by sin. For certainly many philosophers understood that to
live virtuously was a thing agreeable to the divinity, and that consequently
to live viciously was offensive to him. The good man Epictetus makes the
wish to die a true Christian (as it is very probable he did), and amongst
other things he says he should be content if dying he could lift up his
hands to God and say unto him: For my part I have not dishonoured Thee: and,
further, he will have his philosopher to make an admirable oath to God never
to be disobedient to his divine Majesty, nor to question or blame anything
coming from him, nor in any sort to complain thereof; and in another place
he teaches that God and our good angel are present during our actions. You
see clearly then, Theotimus, that this philosopher, while yet a pagan, knew
that sin offended God, as virtue honoured him, and consequently he willed
that it should be repented of, since he even ordained an examen of
conscience at night, about which, with Pythagoras, he lays down this maxim


If thou hast ill done, chide thyself bitterly,

If thou hast well done, rest thee contentedly.


Now this kind of repentance joined to the knowledge and love of God which
nature can give, was a dependence of moral religion. But as natural reason
bestowed more knowledge than love upon the philosophers, who did not glorify
God in proportion to the knowledge they had of him, so nature has furnished
more light to understand how much God is offended by sin, than heat to
excite the repentance necessary for the reparation of the offence.

But although religious penitence may have been in some sort recognized by
some of the philosophers, yet this has been so rarely and feebly, that those
who were reputed the most virtuous amongst them, to wit the Stoics,
maintained that the wise man was never grieved, whereupon they framed a
maxim as contrary to reason, as the proposition on which it was grounded was
contrary to experience, namely, that the wise man sinned not.

We may therefore well say, Theotimus, that penitence is a virtue wholly
Christian, since on the one side it was so little known to the pagans, and,
on the other side, it is so well recognized amongst true Christians, that in
it consists a great part of the evangelical philosophy, according to which
whosoever affirms that he sins not, is senseless, and whosoever expects
without penitence to redress his sin is mad; for it is our Saviour's
exhortation of exhortations: Do penance. [112] And now let me give a brief
description of the progress of this virtue.

We enter into a profound apprehending of the fact that, as far as is in us,
we offend God by our sins, despising and dishonouring him, giving way to
disobedience and rebellion against him; and he also on his part considers
himself as offended, irritated, and despised; for he dislikes, reproves and
abominates iniquity. From this true apprehension there spring several
motives, which all, or several together, or each one apart, may carry us to
this repentance.

For we consider sometimes how God who is offended has established a rigorous
punishment in hell for sinners, and how he will deprive them of the paradise
prepared for the good. And as the desire of paradise is extremely
honourable, so the fear of losing it is an excellent fear; and not only so,
but the desire of paradise being very worthy of esteem, the fear of its
contrary, which is hell, is good and praiseworthy. Ah! who would not dread
so great a loss, so great a torment! And this double fearthe one servile,
the other mercenarygreatly bears us on towards a repentance for our sins,
by which we have incurred them. And to this effect in the Holy Word this
fear is a hundred and a hundred times inculcated. At other times we consider
the deformity and malice of sin, according as faith teaches us; for example,
because by it the likeness and image of God which we have, is defiled and
disfigured, the dignity of our soul dishonoured, we are made like brute
beasts, we have violated our duty towards the Creator of the world,
forfeited the good of the society of the angels, to associate and subject
ourselves to the devil, making ourselves slaves of our passions, overturning
the order of reason, offending our good angels to whom we have so great
obligations.

At other times we are provoked to repentance by the beauty of virtue, which
brings as much good with it as sin does evil; further we are often moved to
it by the example of the saints; for who could ever have cast his eyes upon
the exercises of the incomparable penitence of Magdalen, of Mary of Egypt,
or of the penitents of the monastery called Prison, described by S. John
Climacus, without being moved to repentance for his sins, since the mere
reading of the history incites to it such as are not altogether insensible.

_________________________________________________________________

[112] Matt. iv. 17.
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CHAPTER XIX.

THAT PENITENCE WITHOUT LOVE IS IMPERFECT.

Now all these motives are taught us by faith and the Christian religion, and
therefore the repentance which results from them is very laudable though
imperfect. Laudable certainly it is, for neither Holy Scripture nor the
Church would stir us up by such motives if the penitence thence proceeding
were not good, and we see manifestly that it is a most reasonable thing to
repent of sin for these considerations, yea, that it is impossible that he
who considers them attentively should not repent. Yet still it is an
imperfect repentance, because divine love is not as yet found in it. Ah! do
you not see, Theotimus, that all these repentances are made for the sake of
our own soul, of its felicity, of its interior beauty, its honour, its
dignity, and in a word for love of ourselves, although a lawful, just and
well-ordered love.

And note, that I do not say that these repentances reject the love of God,
but only that they do not include it; they do not repulse it, yet they do
not contain it ; they are not contrary to it, but as yet are without it; it
is not forbidden entrance, and yet it is not in. The will which simply
embraces good is very good, yet if it so embrace this as to reject the
better, it is truly ill-ordered, not in accepting the one but in repulsing
the other. So the vow to give alms this day is good, yet the vow to give
only this day is bad, because it would exclude the better, which is to give
both to-day, to-morrow, and every day when we are able. Certainly it is
good, and this cannot be denied, to repent of our sins in order to avoid the
pains of hell and obtain heaven, but he that should make the resolution
never to be willing to repent for any other motive, would wilfully shut out
the better, which is to repent for the love of God, and would commit a great
sin. And what father would not be ill pleased that his son was willing
indeed to serve him, yet never with love, or by love?

The beginning of good things is good, the progress better, the end the best.
At the same time, it is as a beginning that the beginning is good, and as
progress that progress is good: and to wish to finish the work by its
beginning or in its progress would be to invert the order of things. Infancy
is good, but to desire to remain always a child would be bad; for the child
of a hundred years old is despised. It is laudable to begin to learn, yet he
that should begin with intention never to perfect himself would go against
all reason. Fear, and those other motives of repentance of which I spoke,
are good for the beginning of Christian wisdom, which consists in penitence;
but he who deliberately willed not to attain to love which is the perfection
of penitence, would greatly offend him who ordained all to his love, as to
the end of all things.

To conclude: the repentance which excludes the love of God is infernal like
to that of the damned. The repentance which does not reject the love of God,
though as yet it be without it, is a good and desirable penitence, but
imperfect, and it cannot give salvation until it attain love and is mingled
therewith. So that as the great Apostle said that though he should deliver
his body to be burned, and all his goods to the poor, wanting charity it
would profit him nothing, [113] so we may truly say, that though our
penitence were so great that it should cause our eyes to dissolve in tears,
and our hearts to break with sorrow, yet if we have not the holy love of
God, all this would profit nothing for eternal life.

_________________________________________________________________

[113] 1 Cor. xiii. 3.
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CHAPTER XX.

HOW THE MINGLING OF LOVE AND SORROW TAKES PLACE IN CONTRITION.

Nature, as far as I know, never converts fire into water, though some waters
turn into fire. Yet God did it once by miracle. For as it is written in the
Book of Machabees, [114] when the children of Israel were conducted into
Babylon, in the time of Sedecias, the priests, by the counsel of Jeremias,
hid the holy fire in a valley, in a dry well, and upon their return, the
children of those that had hid it went to seek it, following the direction
their fathers had given them, and they found it converted into a thick
water, which being drawn by them, and poured upon the sacrifices, as
Nehemias commanded, was, when the sunbeams touched it, converted into a
great fire.

Theotimus, amongst the tribulations and remorse of a lively repentance God
often puts in the bottom of our heart the sacred fire of his love, this love
is converted into the water of tears, they by a second change into another
and greater fire of love. Thus the famous penitent lover first loved her
Saviour, her love was converted into tears, and these tears into an
excellent love; whence Our Saviour told her that many sins were pardoned her
because she had loved much. [115] And as we see fire turns wine into a
certain water which is called almost everywhere aquavit¦, which so easily
takes and augments fire that in many places it is also termed ardent; so the
amorous consideration of the goodness which, while it ought to have been
sovereignly loved, has been offended by sin, produces the water of holy
penitence; and from this water the fire of divine love issues, thence
properly termed water of life or ardent. Penitence is indeed a water in its
substance, being a true displeasure, a real sorrow and repentance; yet is it
ardent, in that it contains the virtue and properties of love, as arising
from a motive of love, and by this property it gives the life of grace. So
that perfect penitence has two different effects; for in virtue of its
sorrow and detestation it separates us from sin and the creature, to which
delectation had attached us; but in virtue of the motive of love, whence it
takes its origin, it reconciles us and reunites us to our God, from whom we
had separated ourselves by contempt: so that it at once reclaims us from sin
in quality of repentance, and reunites us to God in quality of love.

But I do not mean to say that the perfect love of God, by which we love him
above all things, always precedes this repentance, or that this repentance
always precedes this love. For though it often so happens, still at other
times, as soon as divine love is born in our hearts, penitence is born
within the love, and oftentimes penitence entering into our heart, love
enters in penitence. And as when Esau was born, Jacob his twin brother held
him by the foot, that their births might not only follow the one the other,
but also might cleave together and be intermingled; so repentance, rude and
rough in regard of its pain, is born first, as another Esau; and love,
gentle and gracious as Jacob, holds him by the foot, and cleaves unto him so
closely that their birth is but one, since the end of the birth of
repentance is the beginning of that of perfect love. Now as Esau first
appeared so repentance ordinarily makes itself to be seen before love, but
love, as another Jacob, although the younger, afterwards subdues penitence,
converting it into consolation.

Mark, I pray you, Theotimus, the well-beloved Magdalen, how she weeps with
love: They have taken away my Lord, says she, melting into tears; and I know
not where they have laid him, [116] but having with sighs and tears found
him, she holds and possesses him by love. Imperfect love desires and runs
after him, penitence seeks and finds him; perfect love holds and clasps him.
It is with it as is said to be with Ethiopian rubies, whose fire is
naturally very faint, but when they are dipped in vinegar it sparkles out
and casts a most brilliant lustre: for the love which goes before repentance
is ordinarily imperfect; but being steeped in the sharpness of penitence, it
gains strength end becomes excellent love.

It even happens sometimes that repentance, though perfect, contains not in
itself the proper action of love, but only the virtue and property of it.
You will ask me, what virtue or property of love can repentance have, if it
have not the action? Theotimus, God's goodness is the motive of perfect
repentance, which it displeases us to have offended: now this motive is a
motive only because it stirs us and gives us movement. But the movement
which the divine goodness gives unto the heart which considers it, can be no
other than the movement of love, that is, of union. And therefore true
repentance, though it seem not so, and though we perceive not the proper
effect of love, yet ever takes the movement of love, and the unitive quality
of love, by which it re-unites and re-joins us to the divine goodness. Tell
me, I pray:it is the property of the loadstone to draw and unite iron unto
itself; but do we not see that iron touched with the loadstone, without
having either it or its nature, but only its virtue and attractive quality,
can draw and unite to itself another iron? So perfect repentance, touched
with the motive of love, is not without the virtue and quality thereof, that
is, the movement of union to re-join and re-unite our hearts to the divine
will. But you will reply, what difference is there between this movement of
penitence, and the proper action of love? Theotimus, the action of love is
indeed a movement of union, but it is made by complacency, whereas the
movement of union which is in penitence is not made by way of complacency,
but by displeasure, repentance, reparation, reconciliation. Forasmuch
therefore as this motive unites, it has the quality of love; inasmuch as it
is bitter and dolorous it has the quality of penitence, and in fine, by its
natural condition it is a true movement of penitence, but one which has the
virtue and uniting quality of love.

So Theriacum-wine is not so named because it contains the proper substance
of Theriacum, for there is none at all in it; but it is so called because
the plant of the vine having been steeped in Theriacum, the grapes and the
wine which have sprung from it have drawn into themselves the virtue and
operation of Theriacum against all sorts of poison. We must not therefore
think it strange if penitence, according to the Holy scripture, blots out
sin, saves the soul, makes her grateful God and justifies her, which are
effects appertaining to love, and which apparently should only be attributed
to love: for though love itself be not always found in perfect penitence,
yet its virtue and properties are always there, having flowed into it by the
motive of love whence it springs.

Nor must we wonder that the force of love should be found in penitence
before love be formed in it, since we see that by the reflection of the rays
of the sun beating upon a mirror, heat, which is the virtue and the proper
quality of fire, grows by little and little so strong that it begins to burn
before it has yet well produced the fire, or at least before we have
perceived it. For so the Holy Ghost casting into our understanding the
consideration of the greatness of our sins, in that by them we have offended
so sovereign a goodness, and our will receiving the reflection of this
knowledge, repentance by little and little grows so strong, with a certain
affective heat and desire to return into grace with God, that in fine this
movement comes to such a height, that it burns and unites even before the
love be fully formed, though love, as a sacred fire, is always at once
lighted, at this point. So that repentance never comes to this height of
burning and re-uniting the heart to God, which is her utmost perfection,
without finding herself wholly converted into fire and flame of love, the
end of the one giving the other a beginning; or rather, the end of penitence
is within the commencement of love, as Esau's foot was within Jacob's hand;
in such sort that while Esau was ending his birth, Jacob was beginning his,
the end of the one's birth being joined and fastened to, yea, what is more,
included in, the beginning of the other's: for so the beginning of perfect
love not only follows the end of penitence but even cleaves and ties itself
to it; and to say all in one word, this beginning of love mingles itself
with the end of penitence, and in this moment of mingling, penitence and
contrition merit life everlasting.

Now because this loving repentance is ordinarily practised by elevations and
raisings of the heart to God, like to those of the ancient penitents: I am
thine, save thou me. Have mercy on me, O God, have mercy on me: for my soul
trusteth in thee! Save me, O God; for the waters are come in even unto my
soul! Make me as one of thy hired servants! O God be merciful to me a
sinner!it is not without reason that some have said, that prayer justifies;
for the repentant prayer, or the suppliant repentance, raising up the soul
to God and re-uniting it to his goodness, without doubt obtains pardon in
virtue of the holy love, which gives it the sacred movement. And therefore
we ought all to have very many such ejaculatory prayers, made in the sense
of a loving repentance and of sighs which seek our reconciliation with God,
so that by these laying our tribulation before Our Saviour, we may pour out
our souls before and within his pitiful heart, which will receive them to
mercy.

_________________________________________________________________

[114] 2 Mach. i.

[115] Luke vii. 47.

[116] John xx. 13.
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CHAPTER XXI.

HOW OUR SAVIOUR'S LOVING ATTRACTIONS ASSIST AND ACCOMPANY US TO FAITH AND
CHARITY.

Between the first awaking from sin or infidelity to the final resolution of
a perfect belief, there often runs a good deal of time in which we are able
to pray, as we have seen S. Pachomius did, and as that poor lunatic's
father, who, as S. Mark relates, giving assurance that he believed, that is,
that he began to believe, knew at the same time that he did not believe
sufficiently; whence he cried out: I do believe, Lord help my unbelief,
[117] as though he would say: I am no longer in the obscurity of the night
of infidelity, the rays of your faith already enlighten the horizon of my
soul: but still I do not yet believe as I ought; it is a knowledge as yet
weak and mixed with darkness; Ah! Lord, help me. And the great S. Augustine
solemnly pronounces these remarkable words: "But listen, O man! and
understand. Art thou not drawn? pray, in order that thou mayest be drawn."
In which words his intention is not to speak of the first movement which God
works in us without us, when he excites and awakens us out of the sleep of
sin: for how could we ask to be awakened seeing no man can pray before he be
awakened? But he speaks of the resolution which we make to be faithful, for
he considers that to believe is to be drawn, and therefore he admonishes
such as have been excited to believe in God, to ask the gift of faith. And
indeed no one could better know the difficulties which ordinarily pass
between the first movement God makes in us, and the perfect resolution of
believing fully, than S. Augustine, who having had so great a variety of
attractions by the words of the glorious S. Ambrose, by the conference he
had with Politian, and a thousand other means, yet made so many delays and
had so much difficulty in resolving. For more truly to him than to any other
might have been applied that which he afterwards said to others: Alas!
Augustine, if thou be not drawn, if thou believe not, pray that thou mayest
be drawn, and that thou mayest believe.

Our Saviour draws hearts by the delights that he gives them, which make them
find heavenly doctrine sweet and agreeable, but, until this sweetness has
engaged and fastened the will by its beloved bonds to draw it to the perfect
acquiescence and consent of faith, as God does not fail to exercise his
greatness upon us by his holy inspirations, so does not our enemy cease to
practise his malice by temptations. And meantime we remain in full liberty,
to consent to the divine drawings or to reject them; for as the sacred
Council of Trent has clearly decreed: "If any one should say that man's
freewill, being moved and incited by God, does not in any way co-operate, by
consenting to God, who moves and calls him that he may dispose and prepare
himself to obtain the grace of justification, and that he is unable to
refuse consent though he would," truly such a man would be excommunicated,
and reproved by the Church. But if we do not repulse the grace of holy love,
it dilates itself by continual increase in our souls, until they are
entirely converted; like great rivers, which finding open plains spread
themselves, and ever take up more space.

But if the inspiration, having drawn us to faith, find no resistance in us,
it draws us also to penitence and charity. S. Peter, as an apode, raised by
the inspiration which came from the eyes of his master, freely letting
himself be moved and carried by this gentle wind of the Holy Ghost, looks
upon those life-giving eyes which had excited him; he reads as in the book
of life the sweet invitation to pardon which the divine clemency offers him;
he draws from it a just motive of hope; he goes out of the court, considers
the horror of his sin, and detests it; he weeps, he sobs, he prostrates his
miserable heart before his Saviour's mercy, craves pardon for his faults,
makes a resolution of inviolable loyalty, and by this progress of movements,
practised by the help of grace which continually conducts, assists, and
helps him, he comes at length to the holy remission of his sins, and passes
so from grace to grace: according to what S. Prosper lays down, that without
grace a man doos not run to grace.

So then to conclude this point, the soul, prevented by grace, feeling the
first drawings, and consenting to their sweetness, as if returning to
herself after a long swoon, begins to sigh out these words: Ah! my dear
spouse, my friend! Draw me, I beseech thee, and take hold of me under my
arms, for otherwise I am not able to walk: but if thou draw me we run, thou
in helping me by the odour of thy perfumes, and I corresponding by my weak
consent, and by relishing thy sweetnesses which strengthen and reinvigorate
me, till the balm of thy sacred name, that is the salutary ointment of my
justification be poured out over me. Do you see, Theotimus, she would not
pray if she were not excited; but as soon as she is, and feels the
attractions, she prays that she may be drawn; being drawn she runs,
nevertheless she would not run if the perfumes which draw her and by which
she is drawn did not inspirit her heart by the power of their precious
odour; and as her course is more swift, and as she approaches nearer her
heavenly spouse, she has ever a more delightful sense of the sweetnesses
which he pours out, until at last he himself flows out in her heart, like a
spread balm, whence she cries, as being surprised by this delight, not so
quickly expected, and as yet unlooked for: O my spouse, thou art as balm
poured into my bosom; it is no marvel that young souls cherish thee dearly.

In this way, my dear Theotimus, the divine inspiration comes to us, and
prevents use moving our wills to sacred love. And if we do not repulse it,
it goes with us and keeps near us, to incite us and ever push us further
forwards; and if we do not abandon it, it does not abandon us, till such
time as it has brought us to the haven of most holy charity, performing for
us the three good offices which the great angel Raphael fulfilled for his
dear Tobias: for it guides us through all our journey of holy penitence, it
preserves us from dangers and from the assaults of the devil, and it
consoles, animates, and fortifies us in our difficulties.

_________________________________________________________________

[117] Mark ix. 23.
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CHAPTER XXII.

A SHORT DESCRIPTION OF CHARITY.

Behold at length, Theotimus, how God, by a progress full of ineffable
sweetness, conducts the soul which he makes leave the Egypt of sin, from
love to love, as from mansion to mansion, till he has made her enter into
the land of promise, I mean into most holy charity, which to say it in one
word, is a friendship, and a disinterested love, for by charity we love God
for his own sake, by reason of his most sovereignly amiable goodness. But
this friendship is a true friendship, being reciprocal, for God has loved
eternally all who have loved him, do, or shall love him temporally. It is
shown and acknowledged mutually, since God cannot be ignorant of the love we
bear him, he himself bestowing it upon us, nor can we be ignorant of his
love to us, seeing that he has so published it abroad, and that we
acknowledge all the good we have, to be true effects of his benevolence. And
in fine we have continual communications with him, who never ceases to speak
unto our hearts by inspirations, allurements, and sacred motions; he ceases
not to do us good, or to give all sorts of testimonies of his most holy
affection, having openly revealed unto us all his secrets, as to his
confidential friends. And to crown his holy loving intercourse with us, he
has made himself our proper food in the most holy Sacrament of the
Eucharist; and as for us, we have freedom to treat with him at all times
when we please in holy prayer, having our whole life, movement and being not
only with him, but in him and by him.

Now this friendship is not a simple friendship, but a friendship of
dilection, by which we make election of God, to love him with a special
love. He is chosen, says the sacred spouse, out of thousands [118]she says
out of thousands, but she means out of all, whence this love is not a love
of simple excellence, but an incomparable love; for charity loves God by a
certain esteem and preference of his goodness so high and elevated above all
other esteems, that other loves either are not true loves in comparison of
this, or if they be true loves, this love is infinitely more than love; and
therefore, Theotimus, it is not a love which the force of nature either
angelic or human can produce, but the Holy Ghost gives it and pours it
abroad in our hearts. [119] And as our souls which give life to our bodies,
have not their origin from the body but are put in them by the natural
providence of God, so charity which gives life to our hearts has not her
origin from our hearts, but is poured into them as a heavenly liquor by the
supernatural providence of his divine Majesty.

For this reason, and because it has reference to God and tends unto him not
according to the natural knowledge we have of his goodness, but according to
the supernatural knowledge of faith, we name it supernatural friendship.
Whence it, together with faith and hope, makes its abode in the point and
summit of the spirit, and, as a queen of majesty, is seated in the will as
on her throne, whence she conveys into the soul her delights and
sweetnesses, making her thereby all fair, agreeable and amiable to the
divine goodness. So that if the soul be a kingdom of which the Holy Ghost is
king, charity is the queen set at his right hand in gilded clothing
surrounded with variety; [120] if the soul be a queen, spouse to the great
king of heaven, charity is her crown, which royally adorns her head; and if
the soul with the body be a little world, charity is the sun which
beautifies all, heats all, and vivifies all.

Charity, then, is a love of friendship, a friendship of dilection, a
dilection of preference, but a preference incomparable, sovereign, and
supernatural, which is as a sun in the whole soul to enlighten it with its
rays, in all the spiritual faculties to perfect them, in all the powers to
moderate them, but in the will as on its throne, there to reside and to make
it cherish and love its God above all things. O how happy is the soul
wherein this holy love is poured abroad, since all good things come together
with her! [121]
_________________________________________________________________

[118] Cant. v. 10.

[119] Rom v. 5.

[120] Ps. xliv. 10.

[121] Wisdom vii. 11.
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_________________________________________________________________

BOOK III.

OF THE

PROGRESS AND PERFECTION OF LOVE.
_________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER I.

THAT HOLY LOVE MAY BE AUGMENTED STILL MORE AND MORE IN EVERY ONE OF US.

The sacred Council of Trent assures us, that the friends of God, proceeding
from virtue to virtue, are day by day renewed, that is, they increase by
good works in the justice which they have received by God's grace, and are
more and more justified, according to those heavenly admonitions; He that is
just let him be justified still: and he that is holy, let him be sanctified
still. [122] And: Be not afraid to be justified even to death. [123] The
path of the just, as a shining light, goeth forwards and increaseth even to
perfect day. [124] Doing the truth in charity, let us in all things grow up
in him who is the head, even Christ. [125] And finally: This I pray, that
your charity may more and more abound in knowledge and in all understanding.
[126] All these are sacred words out of David, S. John, Ecclesiasticus, and
S. Paul.

I never heard of any living creature whose growth was not bounded and
limited, except the crocodile, who from an extremely little beginning never
ceases to grow till it comes to its end, representing equally in this the
good and the wicked: For the pride of them that hate thee ascendeth
continually, [127] says the great king David; and the good increase as the
break of day, from brightness to brightness. And to remain at a standstill
is impossible; he that gains not, loses in this traffic; he that ascends
not, descends upon this ladder; he that vanquishes not in this battle, is
vanquished: we live amidst the dangers of the wars which our enemies wage
against us, if we resist not we perish; and we cannot resist unless we
overcome, nor overcome without triumph. For as the glorious S. Bernard says:
"It is written in particular of man that he never continueth in the same
state; [128] he necessarily either goes forward or returns backward. All run
indeed but one obtains the prize, so run that you may obtain. [129] Who is
the prize but Jesus Christ? And how can you take hold on him if you follow
him not? But if you follow him you will march and run continually, for he
never stayed, but continued his course of love and obedience until death and
the death of the cross."

Go then, says S. Bernard; go, I say with him; go, my dear Theotimus, and
admit no other bounds than those of life, and as long as it remains run
after this Saviour. But run ardently and swiftly: for what better will you
be for following him, if you be not so happy as to take hold of him! Let us
hear the Prophet: I have inclined my heart to do thy justifications for
ever, [130] he does not say that he will do them for a time only, but for
ever, and because he desires eternally to do well, he shall have an eternal
reward. Blessed are the undefiled in the way, who walk in the law of the
Lord. [131] Accursed are they who are defiled, who walk not in the law of
the Lord: it is only for the devil to say that he will sit in the sides of
the north. [132] Detestable one, wilt thou sit? Ah! knowest thou not that
thou art upon the way, and that the way is not made to sit down but to go
in, and it is so made to go in, that going is called making way. And God
speaking to one of his greatest friends says: Walk before me and be perfect.
[133]

True virtue has no limits, it goes ever further; but especially holy
charity, which is the virtue of virtues, and which, having an infinite
object, would be capable of becoming infinite if it could meet with a heart
capable of infinity. Nothing hinders this love from being infinite except
the condition of the will which receives it, and which is to act by it: a
condition which prevents any one loving God as much as God is amiable, as it
prevents them from seeing him as much as he is visible. The heart which
could love God with a love equal to the divine goodness would have a will
infinitely good, which cannot be but in God. Charity then in us may be
perfected up to the infinite, but exclusively; that is, charity may become
more and more, and ever more, excellent, yet never infinite. The Holy Ghost
may elevate our hearts, and apply them to what supernatural actions it may
please him, so they be not infinite. Between little and great things, though
the one exceed the other never so much, there is still some proportions
provided always that the excess of the thing which exceeds be not an
infinite excess: but between finite and infinite there is no proportion, and
to make any, it would be necessary, either to raise the finite and make it
infinite, or to lower the infinite and make it finite, which is impossible.

So that even the charity which is in our Redeemer, as he is man, though
greater than Angels or men can comprehend, yet is not infinite of itself and
in its own being, but only in regard to its value and merit, as being the
charity of a divine Person who is the eternal Son of the omnipotent Father.

Meanwhile it is an extreme honour to our souls that they may still grow more
and more in the love of their God, as long as they shall live in this
failing life: Ascending by steps from virtue to virtue. [134]

_________________________________________________________________

[122] Apoc. xxii. 11.

[123] Ecclus. xviii. 22.

[124] Prov. iv. 18.

[125] Eph. iv. 15.

[126] Phil. i. 9.

[127] Ps. lxxiii. 23.

[128] Job xiv. 2.

[129] 1 Cor. ix. 24.

[130] Ps. cxviii. 112.

[131] Ibid. 1.

[132] Is. xiv. 13.

[133] Gen. xvii. 1.

[134] Ps. lxxxiii. 6.
_________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER II.

HOW EASY OUR SAVIOUR HAS MADE THE INCREASE OF LOVE.

Do you see, Theotimus, that glass of water or that piece of bread which a
holy soul gives to a poor body for God's sake; it is a small matter, God
knows, and in human judgment hardly worthy of consideration: God,
notwithstanding, recompenses it, and forthwith gives for it some increase of
charity. The goat's-hair which was anciently presented to the Tabernacle was
received in good part, and had place amongst the holy offerings; and the
little actions which proceed from charity are agreeable to God, and have
their place among merits. For as in Araby the Blest, not only the plants
which are by nature aromatic, but even all the others, are sweet, gaining a
share in the felicity of that soil; so in a charitable soul not only the
works which are excellent of their own nature, but also the little actions,
smell of the virtue of holy love, and have a good odour before the majesty
of God, who in consideration of them increases charity. And I say God does
it, because Charity does not produce her own increase as a tree does, which
by its own virtue produces and throws out, one from another, its boughs: but
as Faith, Hope and Charity are virtues which have their origin from the
divine goodness, so thence also they draw their increase and perfection, not
unlike bees, which, having their extraction from honey, have also their food
from it.

Wherefore, as pearls are not only bred of dew but fed also with it, the
mother-pearls to this end opening their shells towards heaven to beg, as it
were, the drops which the freshness of the air makes fall at the break of
day, so we, having received Faith, Hope and Charity from the heavenly
bounty, ought always to turn our hears and keep them turned towards it,
thence to obtain the continuation and augmentation of the same virtues. "O,
Lord," does holy Church our mother teach us to say, "give us the increase of
faith, hope and charity." And this is in imitation of those that said to Our
Saviour: Lord increase our faith, [135] and following the counsel of S.
Paul, who assures us that: God alone is able to make all grace abound in us.
[136]

It is God therefore that gives this increase, in consideration of the use we
make of his grace, as it is written; For he that hath, that is, who uses
well the favours received, to him shall be given, and he shall abound. [137]
Thus is Our Saviour's exhortation practised: Lay up to yourselves treasures
in heaven: [138] as though he said: add ever new good works to the former
ones; for fasting, prayer and alms-deeds are the coins whereof your
treasures are to consist. Now as amongst the treasures of the temple, the
poor widow's mite was much esteemed, and as indeed, by the addition of many
little pieces treasures become great, and their value increases, so the
least little good works, even though performed somewhat coldly, and not
according to the whole extent of the charity which is in us, are agreeable
to God, and esteemed by him; in such sort that though of themselves they
cannot cause any increase in the existing love, being of less force than it,
yet the divine Providence, counting, and out of his goodness, valuing them,
forthwith rewards them with increase of charity for the present, and assigns
to them a greater heavenly glory for the future.

Theotimus, bees make the delicious honey which is their chief work; but the
wax, which they also make, does not therefore cease to be of some worth, or
to make their labour valuable. The loving heart ought to endeavour to bring
forth works full of fervour, and of high value, that it may powerfully
augment charity: yet if it bring forth some of lesser value, it shall not
lose its recompense; for God will be pleased by these, that is to say he
will love us ever a little more for them. Now God never loves a soul more
without bestowing also upon her more charity, our love towards him being the
proper, and special effect, of his love towards us.

The more attentively we regard our image in a looking-glass, the more
attentively it regards us again; and the more lovingly God casts his
gracious eyes upon our soul, which is made to his image and likeness, our
soul in return, with so much the more attention and fervour is fixed upon
the divine goodness, answering, according to her littleness, every increase
which this sovereign sweetness makes of his divine love towards her. The
Council of Trent says thus: "If any say that justice received is not
preserved, yea that it is not augmented, by good works in the sight of God,
but that works are only the fruits and signs of justification acquired, and
not the cause of its increase, let him be anathema." Do you see, Theotimus,
the justification wrought by charity is augmented by good works, and, which
is to be noted, by good works without exception: for, as S. Bernard says
excellently well on another subject, nothing is excepted where nothing is
distinguished. The Council speaks of good works indifferently, and without
reservation, giving us to understand, that not only the great and fervent,
but also the little and feeble works cause the increase of holy Charity, but
the great ones greatly, and the little much less.

Such is the love which God bears to our souls, such his desire to make us
increase in the love which we owe to him. The divine sweetness renders all
things profitable to us, takes all to our advantage, and turns all our
endeavours, though never so lowly and feeble, to our gain.

In the action of moral virtues little works bring no increase to the virtue
whence they proceed, yea, if they be very little, they impair it: for a
great liberality perishes if it occupies itself in bestowing things of small
value, and of liberality becomes niggardliness. But in the actions of those
virtues which issue from God's mercy, and especially of charity, every work
gives increase. Nor is it strange that sacred love, as King of virtues, has
nothing either great or small which is not loveable, since the balm tree,
prince of aromatic trees, has neither bark nor leaf that is not odoriferous:
and what could love bring forth that were not worthy of love, or did not
tend to love?

_________________________________________________________________

[135] Luke xvii. 5.

[136] 2 Cor. ix. 8.

[137] Matt. xiii. 12.

[138] Matt vi. 20.
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CHAPTER III.

HOW A SOUL IN CHARITY MAKES PROGRESS IN IT.

Let us make use of a parable, Theotimus, seeing that this method was so
agreeable to the sovereign Master of the love which we are teaching. A great
and brave King, having espoused a most amiable young princess, and having on
a certain day led her into a very retired cabinet, there to converse with
her more at his pleasure, after some discourse saw her by a certain sudden
accident fall down as dead at his feet. Alas! he was extremely disturbed at
this, and it well nigh put him also into a swoon; for she was dearer to him
than his own life. Yet the same love that gave him this assault of grief,
gave him an equal strength to sustain it, and set him into action to remedy,
with an incomparable promptitude, the evil which had happened to the dear
companion of his life. Therefore rapidly opening a sideboard which stood by,
he takes a cordial-water, infinitely precious, and having filled his mouth
with it, by force he opens the lips and the set teeth of his well-beloved
princess, then breathing and spurting the precious liquor which he held in
his mouth, into that of his poor lifeless one who lay in a swoon, and
pouring what was left in the phial about the nostrils, the temples, and the
heart, he made her return to herself and to her senses again; that done, he
helps her up gently, and by virtue of remedies so strengthens and revives
her, that she begins to stand and walk very quietly with him; but in no sort
without his help, for he goes assisting and sustaining her by her arm, till
at length he lays to her heart an epithem so precious and of so great
virtue, that finding herself entirely restored to her wonted health, she
walks all alone, her dear spouse not now sustaining her so much, but only
holding her right hand softly between his, and his right arm folded over
hers on to her bosom. Thus he went on treating her, and fulfilling to her in
all this four most agreeable offices: for 1. He gave testimony that his
heart was lovingly careful of her. 2. He continued ever a little nursing
her. 3. If she had felt any touch of her former faintness he would have
sustained her. 4. If she had lighted on any rough and difficult place in
her walking he would have been her support and stay: and in accidents, or
when she would make a little more haste, he raised her and powerfully
succoured her. In fine he stayed by her with this heartfelt care till night
approached, and then he assisted to lay her in her royal bed.

The soul is the spouse of Our Saviour when she is just; and because she is
never just but when she is in charity, she is also no sooner spouse than she
is led into the cabinet of those delicious perfumes mentioned in the
Canticles. Now when the soul which has been thus honoured commits sin, she
falls as if dead in a spiritual swoon; and this is in good truth a most
unlooked-for accident: for who would ever think that a creature could
forsake her Creator and sovereign good for things so trifling as the
allurements of sin? Truly the heavens are astonished at it, and if God were
subject to passions he would fall down in a swoon at this misfortune, as
when he was mortal he died upon the cross for our redemption. But seeing it
is not now necessary that he should employ his love in dying for us, when he
sees the soul overthrown by sin he commonly runs to her succour, and by an
unspeakable mercy, lays open the gates of her heart by the stings and
remorses of conscience which come from the divers lights and apprehensions
which he casts into our hearts, with salutary movements, by which, as by
odorous and vital liquors, he makes the soul return to herself, and brings
her back to good sentiments. And all this, Theotimus, God works in us
without our action, [139] by his all-amiable Goodness which prevents us with
its sweetness. For even as our bride, having fainted, would have died in her
swoon, if the King had not assisted her; so the soul would remain lost in
her sin if God prevented her not. But if the soul thus excited add her
consent to the solicitation of grace, seconding the inspiration which
prevents her, and accepting the required helps provided for her by God; he
will fortify her, and conduct her through various movements of faith, hope
and penitence, even till he restore her to her true spiritual health, which
is no other thing than charity. And while he thus makes her walk in the
virtues by which he disposes her to this holy love, he does not conduct her
only, but in such sort sustains her, that as she for her part goes as well
as she is able so he on his part supports and sustains her; and it is hard
to say whether she goes or is carried; for she is not so carried that she
goes not, and yet her going is such that if she were not carried she could
not go. So that, to speak apostolically, she must say; I walk, not I alone,
but the grace of God with me. [140]

But the soul being entirely restored to her health by the excellent epithem
of charity which the Holy Ghost infuses into her heart, she is then able to
walk and keep herself upon her feet of herself, yet by virtue of this health
and this sacred epithem of holy love. Wherefore though she is able to walk
of herself, yet is she to render the glory thereof to God, who has bestowed
upon her a health so vigorous and strong: for whether the Holy Ghost fortify
us by the motions which he enables our heart to make, or sustain us by the
charity which he infuses into them, whether he succour us by manner of
assistance in raising and carrying us, or strengthen our hearts by pouring
into them fortifying and quickening love, we always live, walk, and work, in
him and by him.

And although by means of charity poured into our hearts, we are able to walk
in the presence of God, and make progress in the way of salvation, yet still
it is the goodness of God which ever helps the soul to whom he has given his
love, continually holding her with his holy hand; for so 1: He doth better
make appear the sweetness of his love towards her. 2. He ever animates her
more and more. 3. He supports her against depraved inclinations and evil
habits contracted by former sins. 4. And finally, he supports her and
defends her against temptations.

Do we not often see, Theotimus, that sound and robust men must be provoked
to employ their strength and power well; and, as one would say, must be
drawn by the hand to the work? So God having given us his charity, and by it
the force and the means to gain ground in the way of perfection, his love
does not permit him to let us walk thus alone, but makes him put himself
upon the way with us, urges him to urge us, and solicits his heart to
solicit and drive forward ours to make good use of the charity which he has
given us, repeating often, by means of his inspirations, S. Paul's
admonitions: See that you receive not the grace of God in vain. [141] Whilst
we have time, let us work good to all men. [142] So run that you may obtain.
[143] So that we are often to think that he repeats in our ears the words
which he used to the good father Abraham: Walk before me and be perfect.
[144]

But principally the special assistance of God to the soul endowed with
charity is required in sublime and extraordinary enterprises; for though
charity, however weak it be, gives us enough inclination, and, as I think,
enough power, to do the works necessary for salvation, yet, to aspire to and
undertake excellent and extraordinary actions, our hearts stand in need of
being pushed and raised by the hand and motion of this great heavenly lover;
as the princess in our parable, although restored to health, could not
ascend nor go fast, unless her dear spouse raised and strongly supported
her. Thus S. Antony and S. Simeon Stylites were in the grace of God and
charity when they designed so exalted a life; as also the B. Mother (S.)
Teresa when she made her particular vow of obedience, S. Francis and S.
Louis, when they undertook their journey beyond-seas for the advancement of
God's glory, the Blessed Francis Xavier, when he consecrated his life to the
conversion of the Indians, S. Charles, in exposing himself to serve the
plague-stricken, S. Paulinus, when he sold himself to redeem the poor
widow's child; yet still never would they have struck such mighty and
generous blows, unless God, to that charity which they had in their hearts,
had added special inspirations, invitations, lights and forces, whereby he
animated and pushed them forward to these extraordinary exploits of
spiritual valour.

Do you not mark the young man of the gospel, whom Our Saviour loved, and
who, consequently, was in charity? Certainly, he never dreamed of selling
all he had to give it to the poor, and following Our Saviour: nay though Our
Saviour had given him such an inspiration, yet had he not the courage to put
it into execution. For these great works, Theotimus, we need not only to be
inspired, but also to be fortified, in order to effect what the inspiration
inclines us to. As again in the fierce assaults of extraordinary
temptations, a special and particular presence of heavenly succour is
absolutely necessary. For this cause holy church makes us so frequently cry
out: "Excite our hearts O Lord:" "Prevent our actions by thy holy
inspirations and further them with thy continual help:" "O Lord, make haste
to help us:" and the like, in order by such prayers to obtain grace to be
able to effect excellent and extraordinary works, and more frequently and
fervently to do ordinary ones; as also more ardently to resist small
temptations, and boldly to combat the greatest. S. Antony was assailed by a
hideous legion of devils, and having long sustained their attacks, not
without incredible pain and torment, at length saw the roof of his cell
burst open, and a heavenly ray enter the breach, which made the black and
darksome troop of his enemies vanish in a moment, and delivered him from all
the pain of the wounds received in that battle; whence he perceived God's
particular presence, and fetching a profound sigh towards the vision"where
wast thou, O good Jesus," said he, "where wast thou? Why wast thou not here
from the beginning to have relieved my pain? It was answered him from above
Antony, I was here: but I awaited the event of thy combat: and since thou
didst behave thyself bravely and valiantly, I will be thy continual aid."
But in what did the valour and courage of this brave spiritual combatant
consist? He himself declared it another time when, being set upon by a devil
who acknowledged himself to be the spirit of fornication, this glorious
saint after many words worthy of his great courage began to sing the 7th
verse of the 117th Psalm: The Lord is my helper: and I will look over my
enemies.

And Our Saviour revealed to S. Catharine of Sienna, that he was in the midst
of her heart in a cruel temptation she had, as a captain in the midst of a
fort to hold it; and that without his succour she would have been lost in
that battle. It is the same in all the great assaults which our enemy makes
against us: and we may well say with Jacob that it is the angel that
delivereth us from all evil, [145] and may sing with the great King David:
The Lord ruleth me: and I shall want nothing. He hath set me in a place of
pasture. He hath brought me up, on the water of refreshment: he hath
converted my soul. So that we ought often to repeat this exclamation and
prayer: And thy mercy will follow me all the days of my life. [146]
_________________________________________________________________

[139] In nobis sine nobis (S. Aug.)

[140] 1 Cor. xv. 10.

[141] 2 Cor. vi. 1.

[142] Gal. vi. 10.

[143] 1 Cor. ix. 24.

[144] Gen. xvii. 1.

[145] Gen. xlviii. 16.

[146] Ps. xxii.
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CHAPTER IV.

OF HOLY PERSEVERANCE IN SACRED LOVE.

Even as a tender mother, leading with her her little babe, assists and
supports him as need requires, letting him now and then venture a step by
himself in less dangerous and very smooth places, now taking him by the hand
and steadying him, now taking him up in her arms and bearing him, so Our
Lord has a continual care to conduct his children, that is such as are in
charity; making them walk before him, reaching them his hand in
difficulties, and bearing them himself in such travails, as he sees
otherwise insupportable unto them. This he declared by Isaias saying: I am
the Lord thy God, who take thee by the hand, and say to thee: fear not, I
have helped thee. [147] So that with a good heart we must have a firm
confidence in God, and his assistance, for if we fail not to second his
grace, he will accomplish in us the good work of our salvation, which he
also began working in us both to will and to accomplish, [148] as the holy
Council of Trent assures us.

In this conduct which the heavenly sweetness makes of our souls, from their
entry into charity until their final perfection, which is not finished but
in the hour of death, consists the great gift of perseverance, to which our
Saviour attaches the greatest gift of eternal glory, according to his
saying: He that shall persevere unto the end, he shall be saved: [149] for
this gift is no other thing than the combination and sequence of the various
helps, solaces and succours, whereby we continue in the love of God to the
end: as the education, bringing up and supporting of a child is no other
thing, than the many cares, aids, succours, and other offices necessary to a
child, exercised and continued towards him till he grow to years in which he
no longer needs them.

But the continuance of succours and helps is not equal in all those that
persevere. In some it is short; as in such as were converted a little before
their death: so it happened to the Good Thief; so to that officers who
seeing the constancy of S. James made forthwith profession of faith, and
became a companion of the martyrdom of this great Apostle; so to the blessed
gaoler who guarded the forty martyrs at Sebaste, who seeing one of them lose
courage, and forsake the crown of martyrdom, put himself in his place and
became Christian, martyr and glorious all at once; so to the notary of whom
mention is made in the life of S. Antony of Padua, who having all his life
been a false villain yet died a martyr: and so it happened to a thousand
others of whom we have seen and read that they died well, after an ill-spent
life. As for these, they stand not in need of a great variety of succours,
but unless some great temptation cross their way, they can make this short
perseverance solely by the charity given them, and by the aids by which they
were converted. For they arrive at the port without voyaging, and finish
their pilgrimage in a single leap, which the powerful mercy of God makes
them take so opportunely that their enemies see them triumph before seeing
them fight: so that their conversion and perseverance are almost the same
thing. And if we would speak with exact propriety, the grace which they
received of God whereby they attained as soon the issue, as the beginning of
their course, cannot well be termed perseverance, though all the same,
because actually it holds the place of perseverance in giving salvation, we
comprehend it under the name of perseverance. In others, on the contrary,
perseverance is longer, as in S. Anne the prophetess, in S. John the
Evangelist, S. Paul the first hermit, S. Hilarion, S. Romuald, S. Francis of
Paula;and they stood in need of a thousand sorts of different assistances,
according to the variety of the adventures of their pilgrimage and the
length of it.

But in any case, perseverance is the most desirable gift we can hope for in
this life, and the one which, as the Council of Trent says, we cannot have
but from the hand of God, who alone can assure him that stands, and help him
up that falls: wherefore we must incessantly demand it, making use of the
means which Our Saviour has taught us to the obtaining of it; prayer,
fasting, alms-deeds, frequenting the sacraments, intercourse with the good,
the hearing and reading of holy words.

Now since the gift of prayer and devotion is liberally granted to all those
who sincerely will to consent to divine inspirations, it is consequently in
our power to persevere. Not of course that I mean to say that our
perseverance has its origin from our power, for on the contrary I know it
springs from God's mercy, whose most precious gift it is, but I mean that
though it does not come from our power, yet it comes within our power, by
means of our will, which we cannot deny to be in our power: for though God's
grace is necessary for us, to will to persevere, yet is this will in our
power, because heavenly grace is never wanting to our will, and our will is
not wanting to our power. And indeed according to the great S. Bernard's
opinion, we may all truly say with the Apostle that: Neither death, nor
life, nor Angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor
things to come, nor might, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature,
shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus
Our Lord. [150] Yes, indeed, for no creature can take us away by force from
this holy love; we only can forsake and abandon it by our own will, except
for which there is nothing to be feared in this matter.

So, Theotimus, following the advice of the holy Council, we ought to place
our whole hope in God, who will perfect the work of our salvation which he
has begun in us, if we be not wanting to his grace: for we are not to think
that he who said to the paralytic: Go, and do not will to sin again: [151]
gave him not also power to avoid that willing which he forbade him: and
surely he would never exhort the faithful to persevere, if he were not ready
to furnish them with the power. Be thou faithful until death, said he to the
bishop of Smyrna, and I will give thee the crown of life. [152] Watch ye,
stand fast in the faith, do manfully, and be strengthened. Let all your
actions be done in charity. [153] So run that you may obtain. [154] We must
often then with the great King demand of God the heavenly gift of
perseverance, and hope that he will grant it us. Cast me not off in the time
of old age; when my strength shall fail, do not thou forsake me. [155]

_________________________________________________________________

[147] Is. xli. 13.

[148] Phil. ii. 13.

[149] Matt. x. 22.

[150] Rom. viii. 38-9

[151] John v. 14.

[152] Apoc. ii. 10.

[153] 1 Cor. xvi. 13.

[154] 1 Cor. ix. 24.

[155] Ps. lxx. 9.
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CHAPTER V.

THAT THE HAPPINESS OF DYING IN HEAVENLY CHARITY IS A SPECIAL GIFT OF GOD.

In fine, the heavenly King having brought the soul which he loves to the end
of this life, he assists her also in her blessed departure, by which he
draws her to the marriage-bed of eternal glory, which is the delicious fruit
of holy perseverance. And then, dear Theotimus, this soul, wholly ravished
with the love of her well-beloved, putting before her eyes the multitude of
favours and succours wherewith she was prevented and helped while she was
yet in her pilgrimage, incessantly kisses this sweet helping hand, which
conducted, drew and supported her in the way; and confesses, that it is of
this divine Saviour that she holds her felicity, seeing he has done for her
all that the patriarch Jacob wished for his journey, when he had seen the
ladder to heaven. O Lord, she then says, thou wast with me, and didst guide
me in the way by which I came. Thou didst feed me with the bread of thy
sacraments, thou didst clothe me with the wedding garment of charity, thou
hast happily conducted me to this mansion of glory, which is thy house, O my
eternal Father. Oh! what remains, O Lord, save that I should protest that
thou art my God for ever and ever! Amen.

Thou hast held me by my right hand; and by thy will thou hast conducted me,
and with thy glory thou hast received me. [156] Such then is the order of
our journey to eternal life, for the accomplishment of which the divine
providence ordained from all eternity the number, distinction and succession
of graces necessary to it, with their dependence on one another.

He willed, first, with a true will, that even after the sin of Adam all men
should be saved, but upon terms and by means agreeable to the condition of
their nature, which is endowed with free-will; that is to say he willed the
salvation of all those who would contribute their consent, to the graces and
favours which he would prepare, offer and distribute to this end.

Now, amongst these favours, his will was that vocation should be the first,
and that it should be so accommodated to our liberty that we might at our
pleasure accept or reject it: and such as he saw would receive it, he would
furnish with the sacred motions of penitence, and to those who would second
these motions he determined to give charity, those again who were in
charity, he purposed to supply with the helps necessary to persevere, and to
such as should make use of these divine helps he resolved to impart final
perseverance, and the glorious felicity of his eternal love.

And thus we may give account of the order which is found in the effects of
that Providence which regards our salvation, descending from the first to
the last, that is from the fruit, which is glory, to the root of this fair
tree, which is Our Saviour's redemption. For the divine goodness gives glory
after merits, merits after charity, charity after penitence, penitence after
obedience to vocation, obedience to vocation after vocation itself, vocation
after Our Saviour's redemption, on which rests all this mystical ladder of
the great Jacob, as well at its heavenly end, since it rests in the bosom of
the eternal Father, in which he receives and glorifies the elect, as also at
its earthly end, since it is planted upon the bosom and pierced side of Our
Saviour, who for this cause died upon Mount Calvary.

And that this order of the effects of Providence was thus ordained, with the
same dependence which they have on one another in the eternal will of God,
holy Church, in the preface of one of her solemn prayers, witnesses in these
words: "O eternal and Almighty God, who art Lord of the living and the dead,
and art merciful to all those who thou foreknowest will be thine by faith
and good works:" as though she were declaring that glory, which is the crown
and the fruit of God's mercy towards men, has only been ordained for those,
of whom the divine wisdom has foreseen that in the future, obeying the
vocation, they will attain the living faith which works by charity.

Finally, all these effects have an absolute dependence on Our Saviour's
redemption, who merited them for us in rigour of justice by the loving
obedience which he exercised even till death and the death of the cross,
which is the root of all the graces which we receive; we who are the
spiritual grafts engrafted on his stock. If being engrafted we remain in
him, we shall certainly bear, by the life of grace which he will communicate
unto us, the fruit of glory prepared for us. But if we prove broken sprigs
and grafts upon this tree, that is, if by resistance we interrupt the
progress and break the connection of the effects of his clemency, it will
not be strange, if in the end we be wholly cut off, and be thrown into
eternal fires as fruitless branches.

God, doubtless, prepared heaven for those only who he foresaw would be his.
Let us be his then, Theotimus, by faith and works, and he will be ours by
glory. Now it is in our power to be his: for though it be a gift of God to
be God's, yet is it a gift which God denies no one, but offers to all, to
give it to such as freely consent to receive it.

But mark, I pray you, Theotimus, how ardently God desires we should be his,
since to this end he has made himself entirely ours; bestowing upon us his
death and his life; his life, to exempt us from eternal death, his death, to
possess us of eternal life. Let us remain therefore in peace and serve God,
to be his in this mortal life, and still more his in the eternal.

_________________________________________________________________

[156] Ps. lxxii. 24.
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CHAPTER VI.

THAT WE CANNOT ATTAIN TO PERFECT UNION WITH GOD IN THIS MORTAL LIFE.

All the rivers flow incessantly, and, as the wise man says: Unto the place
from whence they come they return to flow again. [157] The sea which is the
place whence they spring, is also the place of their final repose; all their
motion tends no farther than to unite themselves to their fountain. "O God,"
says S. Augustine, "thou hast created my heart for thyself, and it can never
repose but in thee." For what have I in heaven, and besides thee what do I
desire upon earth? Thou art the God of my heart, and the God that is my
portion for ever. [158] Still the union which our heart aspires to cannot
attain to its perfection in this mortal life; we can commence our loves in
this, but we can consummate them only in the other.

The heavenly Spouse makes a delicate expression of this. I found him whom my
soul loveth, says she, I held him, and I will not let him go, till I bring
him into my mother's house, and into the chamber of her that bore me. [159]
She finds him then, this well-beloved, for he makes her feel his presence by
a thousand consolations; she holds him, for these feelings cause in her
strong affections, by which she clasps and embraces him, protesting that she
will never let him go,O no! for these affections turn into eternal
resolutions; yet she cannot consider that she kisses him with the nuptial
kiss till she meet with him in her mother's house, which is the heavenly
Jerusalem, as S. Paul says. But see, Theotimus, how this spouse thinks of
nothing less than of keeping her beloved at her mercy as a slave of love;
whence she imagines to herself that it is hers to lead him at her will, and
to introduce him into her mother's happy abode; though in reality it is she
who must be conducted thither by him, as was Rebecca into Sara's chamber by
her dear Isaac. The spirit urged by amorous passion always gives itself a
little advantage over what it loves; and the spouse himself confesses: Thou
hast wounded my heart, my sister, my spouse, thou hast wounded my heart with
one of thy eyes, and with one hair of thy neck: [160] acknowledging himself
her prisoner by love.

This perfect conjunction then of the soul with God, shall only be in heaven,
where as the Apocalypse says, the Lamb's marriage feast shall be made. In
this mortal life the soul is truly espoused and betrothed to the immaculate
Lamb, but not as yet married to him: the troth is plighted, and promise
given, but the execution of the marriage is deferred: so that we have always
time, though never reason, to withdraw from it; our faithful spouse never
abandons us unless we oblige him to it by our disloyalty and unfaithfulness.
But in heaven the marriage of this divine union being celebrated, the bond
which ties our hearts to their sovereign principle shall be eternally
indissoluble.

It is true, Theotimus, that while we await this great kiss of indissoluble
union which we shall receive from the spouse there above in glory, he gives
us some kisses by a thousand feelings of his delightful presence: for unless
the soul were kissed she would not be drawn, nor would she run in the odour
of the beloved's perfumes. Whence, according to the original Hebrew text and
the Seventy interpreters, she desires many kisses. Let him kiss me, says
she, with the kisses of his mouth. But because these little kisses of this
present life all refer to the eternal kiss of the life to come, the sacred
Vulgate edition has holily reduced the kisses of grace to that of glory,
expressing the desires of the spouse in this manner: Let him kiss me with
the kiss of his mouth, [161] as though she said: of all the kisses, of all
the favours that the friend of my heart, or the heart of my soul has
provided for me, ah! I only breathe after and aspire to this great and
solemn marriage-kiss which remains for ever, and in comparison of which the
other kisses deserve not the name of kisses, being rather signs of the
future union between my beloved and me than union itself.

_________________________________________________________________

[157] Eccles. i. 7.

[158] Ps. lxxii. 25-6.

[159] Cant. iii. 4.

[160] Ibid. iv. 9.

[161] Cant. i. 1.
_________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER VII.

THAT THE CHARITY OF SAINTS IN THIS MORTAL LIFE EQUALS, YEA SOMETIMES
SURPASSES, THAT OF THE BLESSED.

When after the labours and dangers of this mortal life, good souls arrive at
the port of the eternal, they ascend to the highest and utmost degree of
love to which they can attain; and this final increase being bestowed upon
them in recompense of their merits, it is distributed to them, not only in
good measure, but in a measure which is pressed down and shaken together and
running over, [162] as Our Saviour says; so that the love which is given for
reward is greater in every one than that which was given for meriting.

Now, not only shall each one in particular have a greater love in heaven
than ever he had on earth, but the exercise of the least charity in heaven,
shall be much more happy and excellent, generally speaking, than that of the
greatest which is, or has been, or shall be, in this failing life: for there
above, all the saints incessantly, without any intermission, exercise love;
while here below God's greatest servants, drawn away and tyrannized over by
the necessities of this dying life, are forced to suffer a thousand and a
thousand distractions, which often take them off the practice of holy love.

In heaven, Theotimus, the loving attention of the blessed is firm, constant,
inviolable, and cannot perish or decrease; their intention is pure and freed
from all mixture of any inferior intention: in short, this felicity of
seeing God clearly and loving him unchangeably is incomparable. And who
would ever equal the pleasure, if there be any, of living amidst the perils,
the continual tempests, the perpetual agitations and viscissitudes which
have to be gone through on sea, with the contentment there is of being in a
royal palace, where all things are at every wish, yea where delights
incomparably surpass every wish?

There is then more content, sweetness and perfection in the exercise of
sacred love amongst the inhabitants of heaven, than amongst the pilgrims of
this miserable earth. Yet still there have been some so happy in their
pilgrimage that their charity has been greater than that of many saints
already enjoying the eternal fatherland: for certainly it were strange if
the charity of the great S. John, of the Apostles and Apostolic men, were
not greater, even while they were detained here below, than that of little
children, who, dying simply with the grace of baptism, enjoy immortal glory.

It is not usual for shepherds to be more valiant than soldiers; and yet
David, when a little shepherd, coming to the army of Israel, while he found
every one more expert in the use of arms than himself, yet he was more
valiant than all. So it is not an ordinary thing for mortals to have more
charity than the immortals, and yet there have been some mortals, inferior
to the immortals in the exercise of love, who, notwithstanding, have
surpassed them in charity and the habit of love. And as, when comparing hot
iron and a burning lamp, we say the iron has more fire and heat, the lamp
more flame and light; so if we parallel a child in glory with S. John while
yet prisoner, or S. Paul yet captive, we must say that the child in heaven
has more brightness and light in the understanding, more flame and exercise
of love in the will, but that S. John or S. Paul had even on earth more fire
of charity, and heat of love.

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[162] Luke vi. 38.
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CHAPTER VIII.

OF THE INCOMPARABLE LOVE WHICH THE MOTHER of GOD, OUR BLESSED LADY, HAD.

But always and everywhere, when I make comparisons, I intend not to speak of
the most holy virgin-mother, Our Blessed Lady. O my Godno indeed! For she
is the daughter of incomparable dilection, the one only dove, the
all-perfect spouse. Of this heavenly Queen, from my heart I pronounce this
thought, amorous but true, that at least towards the end of her mortal days,
her charity surpassed that of the Seraphim, for many daughters have gathered
together riches: thou hast surpassed them all. [163] The Saints and Angels
are but compared to stars, and the first of them to the fairest of the
stars: but she is fair as the moon, as easy to be chosen and discerned from
all the Saints as the sun from the stars. And going on further I think again
that as the charity of this Mother of love excels in perfection that of all
the Saints in heaven, so did she exercise it more perfectly, I say even in
this mortal life. She never sinned venially, as the church considers; she
had then no change nor delay in the way of love, but by a perpetual
advancement ascended from love to love. She never felt any contradiction
from the sensual appetite, and therefore her love, as a true Solomon,
reigned peaceably in her soul and made all its acts at its pleasure. The
virginity of her heart and body was more worthy and honourable than that of
the Angels. So that her spirit, not divided or separated, as S. Paul says,
was solicitous for the things that belong to the Lord how it might please
God. [164] And, in fine, maternal love, the most pressing, the most active
and the most ardent of all, what must it not have worked in the heart of
such a Mother and for the heart of such a Son?

Ah! do not say, I pray you, that this virgin was subject to sleep; no, say
not this to me, Theotimus: for do you not see that her sleep is a sleep of
love? So that even her spouse wishes that she should sleep as long as she
pleases. Ah! take heed, I adjure you, says he, that you stir not up nor make
the beloved to awake till she please. [165] No, Theotimus, this heavenly
Queen never slept but with love, since she never gave repose to her precious
body, but to reinvigorate it, the better afterwards to serve her God, which
is certainly a most excellent act of charity. For, as the great S. Augustine
says, charity obliges us to love our bodies properly, insomuch as they are
necessary to good works, as they make a part of our person, and as they
shall be sharers in our eternal felicity. In good truth, a Christian is to
love his body as a living image of Our Saviour incarnate, as having issued
from the same stock, and consequently belonging to him in parentage and
consanguinity; especially after we have renewed the alliance, by the real
reception of the divine body of Our Redeemer, in the most adorable sacrament
of the Eucharist, and when by Baptism, Confirmation and other Sacraments we
have dedicated and consecrated ourselves to the sovereign goodness.

But as to the Blessed Virgin,O God, with what devotion must she have loved
her virginal body! Not only because it was a sweet, humble, pure body,
obedient to divine love, and wholly embalmed with a thousand sweetnesses,
but also because it was the living source of Our Saviour's, and belonged so
strictly to him, by an incomparable appurtenance. For which cause when she
placed her angelic body in the repose of sleep: Repose then now, would she
say, O Tabernacle of Alliance, Ark of Sanctity, Throne of the Divinity, ease
thyself a little of thy weariness, and repair thy forces, by this sweet
tranquillity.

Besides, dear Theotimus, do you not know that bad dreams, voluntarily
procured by the depraved thoughts of the day, are in some sort sins,
inasmuch as they are consequences and execution of the malice preceding?
Even so the dreams which proceed from the holy affections of our waking
time, are reputed virtuous and holy. O God! Theotimus, what a consolation it
is to hear S. Chrysostom recounting on a certain day to his people the
vehemence of his love towards them. "The necessity of sleep," said he,
"pressing our eyelids, the tyranny of our love towards you excites the eyes
of our mind: and many a time while I sleep methinks I speak unto you, for
the soul is wont to see in a dream by imagination what she thinks in the
daytime. Thus while we see you not with the eyes of the flesh, we see you
with the eyes of charity." O sweet Jesus! what dreams must thy most holy
Mother have had when she slept, while her heart watched? Did she not dream
that she had thee yet in her womb, or hanging at her sacred breasts and
sweetly pressing those virginal lilies? Ah! what sweetness was in this soul.
Perhaps she often dreamed that as Our Saviour had formerly slept in her
bosom, as a tender lambkin upon the soft flank of its mother, so she slept
in his pierced side, as a white dove in the cave of an assured rock: so that
her sleep was wholly like to an ecstasy as regards the spirit, though as
regards the body it was a sweet and grateful unwearying and rest. But if
ever she dreamed, as did the ancient Joseph, of her future greatness,when
in heaven she should be clothed with the sun, crowned with stars and having
the moon under her feet, [166] that is, wholly environed with her Son's
glory, crowned with that of the Saints, and having the universe under heror
if ever, like Jacob, she saw the progress and fruit of the redemption made
by her Son, for the love of the angels and of men;Theotimus, who could ever
imagine the immensity of so great delights? O what conferences with her dear
child! What delights on every side!

But mark, I pray you, that I neither say nor mean to say that this
privileged soul of the Mother of God was deprived of the use of reason in
her sleep. Many are of opinion that Solomon in that beautiful dream, though
really a dream, in which he demanded and received the gift of his
incomparable wisdom, had the true use of his free-will, on account of the
judicious eloquence of the discourse he made, of his choice full of
discretion, and of the most excellent prayer which he used, the whole
without any mixture of inconsistency or distraction of mind. But how much
more probability is there then that the mother of the true Solomon had the
use of reason in her sleep, that is to say, as Solomon himself makes her
say, that her heart watched while she slept? Surely it was a far greater
marvel that S. John had the exercise of reason in his mother's womb, and why
then should we deny a less to her for whom, and to whom, God did more
favours, than either he did or ever will do for all creatures besides?

To conclude, as the precious stone, asbestos, does by a peerless propriety
preserve for ever the fire which it has conceived, so the Virgin Mother's
heart remained perpetually inflamed with the holy love which she received of
her Son: yet with this difference, that the fire of the asbestos, as it
cannot be extinguished, so it cannot be augmented, but the Virgin's sacred
flames, since they could neither perish, diminish nor remain in the same
state, never ceased to take incredible increase, even as far as heaven the
place of their origin: so true it is that this Mother is the Mother of fair
love, that is, as the most amiable, so the most loving, and as the most
loving, so the most beloved Mother of this only Son; who again is the most
amiable, most loving, and most beloved Son of this only Mother.

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[163] Prov. xxxi. 29.

[164] 1 Cor. vii. 32.

[165] Cant. ii. 7.

[166] Gen. xxxvii.; Apoc. xii. 1.
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CHAPTER IX.

A PREPARATION FOR THE DISCOURSE ON THE UNION OF THE BLESSED WITH GOD.

The triumphant love which the blessed in heaven exercise, consists in the
final, invariable and eternal union of the soul with its God. But this
unionwhat is it?

By how much more agreeable and excellent are the objects our senses meet
with, so much more ardently and greedily they give themselves to the
fruition of them. By how much more fair, delightful to the view, and duly
set in light they are, so much the more eagerly and attentively does the eye
regard them: and by how much more sweet and pleasant voices or music are, so
much the more is the attention of the ear drawn to them. So that every
object exercises a powerful but grateful violence upon the sense to which it
belongs, a violence more or less strong as the excellence is greater or
less; provided always that it be proportionable to the capacity of the sense
which desires to enjoy it; for the eye which finds so much pleasure in light
cannot, however, bear an extreme light, nor fix itself upon the sun, and be
music never so sweet, if loud and too near, it importunes and offends our
ears. Truth is the object of our understanding, which consequently has all
its content in discovering and knowing the truth of things; and according as
truths are more excellent, so the understanding applies itself with more
delight and attention to the consideration of them. How great was the
pleasure, think you, Theotimus, of those ancient philosophers who had such
an excellent knowledge of so many beautiful truths of Nature? Verily they
reputed all pleasures as nothing in comparison with their well-beloved
philosophy, for which some of them quitted honours, others great riches,
others their country; and there was such a one as deliberately plucked out
his eyes, depriving himself for ever of the enjoyment of the fair and
agreeable corporal light, that he might with more liberty apply himself to
consider the truth of things by the light of the spirit. This we read of
Democritus: so sweet is the knowledge of truth! Hence Aristotle has very
often said that human felicity and beatitude consists in wisdom, which is
the knowledge of the eminent truths.

But when our spirit, raised above natural light, begins to see the sacred
truths of faith, O God! Theotimus, what joy! The soul melts with pleasure,
hearing the voice of her heavenly spouse, whom she finds more sweet and
delicious then the honey of all human sciences.

God has imprinted upon all created things his traces, trail, or footsteps,
so that the knowledge we have of his divine Majesty by creatures seems no
other thing than the sight of the feet of God, while in comparison of this,
faith is a view of the very face of the divine Majesty. This we do not yet
see in the clear day of glory, but as it were in the breaking of day; as it
happened to Jacob near to the ford of Jaboc; for though he saw not the angel
with whom he wrestled, save in the weak light of daybreak, yet this was
enough to make him cry out, ravished with delight: I have seen God face to
face, and my soul has been saved. [167] O! how delightful is the holy light
of faith, by which we know, with an unequalled certitude, not only the
history of the beginning of creatures, and their true use, but even that of
the eternal birth of the great and sovereign divine Word, for whom and by
whom all has been made, and who with the Father and the Holy Ghost is one
only God, most singular, most adorable, and blessed for ever and ever! Amen.
Ah! says S. Jerome to his Paulinus: "The learned Plato never knew this, the
eloquent Demosthenes was ignorant of it." How sweet are thy words, O Lord,
to my palate, said that great king, more than honey to my mouth! [168] Was
not our burning within us, whilst he spoke in the way? [169] said those
happy pilgrims of Emmaus, speaking of the flames of love with which they
were touched by the word of faith. But if divine truths be so sweet, when
proposed in the obscure light of faith, O God, what shall they be when we
shall contemplate them in the light of the noonday of glory!

The Queen of Saba, who at the greatness of Solomon's renown had left all to
go and see him, having arrived in his presence, and having heard the wonders
of the wisdom which he poured out in his speeches, as one astonished and
lost in admiration, cried out that what she had learnt by hearsay of this
heavenly wisdom was not half the knowledge which sight and experience gave
her.

Ah! how beautiful and dear are the truths which faith discovers unto us by
hearing! But when having arrived in the heavenly Jerusalem, we shall see the
great Solomon, the King of Glory, seated upon the thrown of his wisdom,
manifesting by an incomprehensible brightness the wonders and eternal
secrets of his sovereign truth, with such light that our understanding will
actually see what it had believed here belowAh! then, dearest Theotimus,
what raptures! what ecstasies! what admiration! what love! what sweetness!
No, never (shall we say in this excess of sweetness) never could we have
conceived that we should see truths so delightsome. We believed indeed all
the glorious things that were said of thee, O great city of God, but we
could not conceive the infinite greatness of the abysses of thy delights.

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[167] Gen. xxxii. 30.

[168] Ps. cxviii. 103.

[169] Luke xxiv. 32.
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CHAPTER X.

THAT THE PRECEDING DESIRE WILL MUCH INCREASE THE UNION OF THE BLESSED WITH
GOD.

The desire which precedes enjoyment, sharpens and intensifies the feeling of
it, and by how much the desire was more urgent and powerful, by so much more
agreeable and delicious is the possession of the thing desired. Oh! my dear
Theotimus, what pleasure will man's heart take in seeing the face of the
Divinity, a face so much desired, yea a face the only desire of our souls?
Our hearts have a thirst which cannot be quenched by the pleasures of this
mortal life, whereof the most esteemed and highest prized if moderate do not
satisfy us, and if extreme suffocate us. Yet we desire them always to be
extreme, and they are never such without being excessive, insupportable,
hurtful. We die of joy as well as of grief: yea, joy is more active to ruin
us than grief. Alexander, having swallowed up, in effect or in hope, all
this lower world, heard some base fellow say, that there were yet many other
worlds, and like a little child, who will cry if one refuse him an apple,
this Alexander, whom the world styles the great, more foolish
notwithstanding than a little child, began bitterly to weep, because there
was no likelihood that he should conquer the other worlds, not having as yet
got the entire possession of this. He that did more fully enjoy the world
than ever any other did, is yet so little satisfied with it that he weeps
for sorrow that he cannot have the other worlds which the foolish persuasion
of a wretched babbler made him imagine to exist. Tell me, I pray you,
Theotimus, does he not show that the thirst of