AS will be seen from the biographical outline which we have
given of the life of St. John of the Cross, this was the first of
the Saint's treatises to be written; it was begun at El Calvario,
and, after various intervals, due to the author's preoccupation
with the business of government and the direction and care of
souls, was completed at Granada.
The treatise presents a remarkable outline of Christian
perfection from the point at which the soul first seeks to rise
from the earth and soar upward towards union with God. It is a
work which shows every sign of careful planning and great
attention to detail, as an ascetic treatise it is noteworthy for
its detailed psychological analysis; as a contribution to mystical
theology, for the skill with which it treats the most complicated
and delicate questions concerning the Mystic Way.
Both the great Carmelite reformers pay close attention to the
early stages of the mystical life, beyond which many never pass,
and both give the primacy to prayer as a means of attaining
perfection. To St. Teresa prayer is the greatest of all blessings
of this life, the channel through which all the favours of God
pass to the soul, the beginning of every virtue and the plainly
marked highroad which leads to the summit of Mount Carmel. She can
hardly conceive of a person in full spiritual health whose life is
not one of prayer. Her coadjutor in the Carmelite Reform writes in
the same spirit. Prayer, for St. John of the Cross as for St.
Teresa, is no mere exercise made up of petition and meditation,
but a complete spiritual life which brings in its train all the
virtues, increases all the soul's potentialities and may
ultimately lead to 'deification' or transformation in God through
love. It may be said that the exposition of the life of prayer,
from its lowest stages to its highest, is the common aim of these
two Saints, which each pursues and accomplishes in a peculiarly
individual manner.
St. John of the Cross assumes his reader to be familiar with
the rudiments of the spiritual life and therefore omits detailed
description of the most elementary of the exercises incumbent upon
all Christians. The plan of the Ascent of Mount Carmel (which,
properly speaking, embraces its sequel, the Dark Night) follows
the lines of the poem with the latter title (p. 10). Into two
stanzas of five lines each, St. John of the Cross has condensed
all the instruction which he develops in this treatise. In order
to reach the Union of Light, the soul must pass through the Dark
Night -- that is to say, through a series of purifications, during
which it is walking, as it were, through a tunnel of impenetrable
obscurity and from which it emerges to bask in the sunshine of
grace and to enjoy the Divine intimacy.
Through this obscurity the thread which guides the soul is
that of 'emptiness' or 'negation.' Only by voiding ourselves of
all that is not God can we attain to the possession of God, for
two contraries cannot co-exist in one individual, and creature-
love is darkness, while God is light, so that from any human heart
one of the two cannot fail to drive out the other.[59]
Now the soul, according to the Saint's psychology, is made up
of interior and exterior senses and of the faculties. All these
must be free from creature impurities in order to be prepared for
Divine union. The necessary self-emptying may be accomplished in
two ways: by our own efforts, with the habitual aid of grace, and
by the action of God exclusively, in which the individual has no
part whatsoever. Following this order, the Ascent is divided into
two parts, which deal respectively with the 'Active' night and the
'Passive.' Each of these parts consists of several books. Since
the soul must be purified in its entirety, the Active Night is
logically divided into the Night of Sense and the Night of the
Spirit; a similar division is observed in treating of the Passive
Night. One book is devoted to the Active Night of Sense; two are
needed for the Active Night of the Spirit. Unhappily, however, the
treatise was never finished; not only was its author unable to
take us out of the night into the day, as he certainly intended to
do, but he has not even space to describe the Passive Night in all
the fullness of its symbolism.
A brief glance at the outstanding parts of the Ascent of
Mount Carmel will give some idea of its nature. The first obstacle
which the pilgrim soul encounters is the senses, upon which St.
John of the Cross expends his analytical skill in Book I. Like any
academic professor (and it will be recalled that he had undergone
a complete university course at Salamanca), he outlines and
defines his subject, goes over the necessary preliminary ground
before expounding it, and treats it, in turn, under each of its
natural divisions. He tells us, that is to say, what he
understands by the 'dark night'; describes its causes and its
stages; explains how necessary it is to union with God; enumerates
the perils which beset the soul that enters it; and shows how all
desires must be expelled, 'however small they be,' if the soul is
to travel through it safely. Finally he gives a complete synthesis
of the procedure that must be adopted by the pilgrim in relation
to this part of his journey: the force of this is intensified by
those striking maxims and distichs which make Chapter xiii of Book
I so memorable.
The first thirteen chapters of the Ascent are perhaps the
easiest to understand (though they are anything but easy to put
into practice) in the entire works of St. John of the Cross. They
are all a commentary on the very first line of the poem. The last
two chapters of the first book glance at the remaining lines,
rather than expound them, and the Saint takes us on at once to
Book II, which expounds the second stanza and enters upon the
Night of the Spirit.
Here the Saint treats of the proximate means to union with
God -- namely, faith. He uses the same careful method of
exposition, showing clearly how faith is to the soul as a dark
night, and how, nevertheless, it is the safest of guides. A
parenthetical chapter (v) attempts to give some idea of the nature
of union, so that the reader may recognize from afar the goal to
which he is proceeding. The author then goes on to describe how
the three theological virtues -- faith, hope and charity -- must
'void and dispose for union' the three faculties of the soul --
understanding, memory and will.
He shows how narrow is the way that leads to life and how
nothing that belongs to the understanding can guide the soul to
union. His illustrations and arguments are far more complicated
and subtle than are those of the first book, and give the reader
some idea of his knowledge, not only of philosophy and theology,
but also of individual souls. Without this last qualification he
could never have written those penetrating chapters on the
impediments to union -- above all, the passages on visions,
locutions and revelations -- nor must we overlook his description
(Chapter xiii) of the three signs that the soul is ready to pass
from meditation to contemplation. It may be doubted if in its own
field this second book has ever been surpassed. There is no mystic
who gives a more powerful impression than St. John of the Cross of
an absolute mastery of his subject. No mistiness, vagueness or
indecision clouds his writing: he is as clear-cut and definite as
can be.
In his third book St. John of the Cross goes on to describe
the obstacles to union which come from the memory and the will.
Unlike St. Thomas, he considered the memory as a distinct and
separate faculty of the soul. Having written, however, at such
length of the understanding, he found it possible to treat more
briefly of that other faculty, which is so closely related to
it.[60] Fourteen chapters (ii-xv) describe the dark night to be
traversed by the memory; thirty (xvi-xlv) the passage of the will,
impelled by love.[61] The latter part is the more strikingly
developed. Four passions -- joy, hope, sorrow and fear -- invade
the will, and may either encompass the soul's perdition, or, if
rightly directed, lead it to virtue and union. Once more St. John
of the Cross employs his profound familiarity with the human soul
to turn it away from peril and guide it into the path of safety.
Much that he says, in dealing with passions so familiar to us all,
is not only purely ascetic, but is even commonplace to the
instructed Christian. Yet these are but parts of a greater whole.
Of particular interest, both intrinsically and as giving a
picture of the Saint's own times, are the chapters on ceremonies
and aids to devotion -- the use of rosaries, medals, pilgrimages,
etc. It must be remembered, of course, that he spent most of his
active life in the South of Spain, where exaggerations of all
kinds, even to-day, are more frequent than in the more sober
north. In any case there is less need, in this lukewarm age, to
warn Christians against the abuse of these means of grace, and
more need, perhaps, to urge them to employ aids that will
stimulate and quicken their devotion.
In the seventeenth chapter of this third book, St. John of
the Cross enumerates the 'six kinds of good' which can give rise
to rejoicing and sets down his intention of treating each of them
in turn. He carries out his purpose, but, on entering his last
division, subdivides it at considerable length and subsequently
breaks off with some brusqueness while dealing with one of these
sub-heads, just as he is introducing another subject of particular
interest historically -- namely, pulpit methods considered from
the standpoint of the preacher. In all probability we shall never
know what he had to say about the hearers of sermons, or what were
his considered judgments on confessors and penitents -- though of
these judgments he has left us examples elsewhere in this
treatise, as well as in others.
We cannot estimate of how much the sudden curtailment of the
Ascent of Mount Carmel has robbed us.[62] Orderly as was the mind of
St. John of the Cross, he was easily carried away in his
expositions, which are apt to be unequal. No one would have
suspected, for example, that, after going into such length in
treating the first line of his first stanza, he would make such
short work of the remaining four. Nor can we disregard the
significance of his warning that much of what he had written on
the understanding was applicable also to the memory and the will.
He may, therefore, have been nearer the end of his theme than is
generally supposed. Yet it is equally possible that much more of
his subtle analysis was in store for his readers. Any truncation,
when the author is a St. John of the Cross, must be considered
irreparable.
THE MANUSCRIPTS[63]
Unfortunately there is no autograph of this treatise extant,
though there are a number of early copies, some of which have been
made with great care. Others, for various reasons, abbreviate the
original considerably. The MSS. belonging to both classes will be
enumerated.
Alba de Tormes. The Discalced Carmelite priory of Alba de
Tormes has a codex which contains the four principal treatises of
St. John of the Cross (Ascent, Dark Night, Spiritual Canticle and
Living Flame). This codex belonged from a very early date (perhaps
from a date not much later than that of the Saint's death) to the
family of the Duke of Alba, which was greatly devoted to the
Discalced Carmelite Reform and to St. Teresa, its foundress. It
remained in the family until the beginning of the eighteenth
century, when it came into the hands of a learned Carmelite, Fray
Alonso de la Madre de Dios, who presented it to the Alba monastery
on April 15, 1705. The details of this history are given by Fray
Alonso himself in a note bearing this date.
For over half a century the MS. was believed to be an
autograph, partly, no doubt, on account of its luxurious binding
and the respect paid to the noble house whence it came. In
February 1761, however, it was examined carefully by P. Manuel de
Santa Maria, who, by his Superiors' orders, was assisting P.
Andres de la Encarnacion in his search for, and study of,
manuscripts of the Saint's writings. P. Manuel soon discovered
that the opinion commonly held was erroneous -- greatly, it would
seem, to the disillusionment of his contemporaries. Among the
various reasons which he gives in a statement supporting his
conclusions is that in two places the author is described as
'santo' -- a proof not only that the MS. is not an autograph but
also that the copyist had no intention of representing it as such.
Although this copy is carefully made and richly bound --
which suggests that it was a gift from the Reform to the house of
Alba -- it contains many errors, of a kind which indicate that the
copyist, well educated though he was, knew little of ascetic or
mystical theology. A number of omissions, especially towards the
end of the book, give the impression that the copy was finished
with haste and not compared with the original on its completion.
There is no reason, however, to suppose that the errors and
omissions are ever intentional; indeed, they are of such a kind as
to suggest that the copyist had not the skill necessary for
successful adulteration.
MS. 6,624. This copy, like the next four, is in N.L.M.
[National Library of Spain, Madrid], and contains the same works
as that of Alba de Tormes. It was made in 1755, under the
direction of P. Andres de la Encarnacion, from a manuscript, now
lost, which was venerated by the Benedictines of Burgos: this
information is found at the end of the volume. P. Andres had
evidently a good opinion of the Burgos MS., as he placed this copy
in the archives of the Discalced Reform, whence it passed to the
National Library early in the nineteenth century.
As far as the Ascent is concerned, this MS. is very similar
to that of Alba. With a few notable exceptions, such as the
omission of the second half of Book I, Chapter iv, the errors and
omissions are so similar as to suggest a definite relationship, if
not a common source.
MS. 13,498. This MS., which gives us the Ascent and the Dark
Night, also came from the Archives of the Reform and is now in the
National Library. The handwriting might be as early as the end of
the sixteenth century. The author did not attempt to make a
literal transcription of the Ascent, but summarized where he
thought advisable, reducing the number of chapters and
abbreviating many of them -- this last not so much by the method
of paraphrase as by the free omission of phrases and sentences.
MS. 2,201. This, as far as the Ascent is concerned, is an
almost literal transcription of the last MS., in a seventeenth-
century hand; it was bound in the eighteenth century, when a
number of other treatises were added to it, together with some
poems by St. John of the Cross and others. The variants as between
this MS. and 13,498 are numerous, but of small importance, and
seem mainly to have been due to carelessness.
MS. 18,160. This dates from the end of the sixteenth century
and contains the four treatises named above, copied in different
hands and evidently intended to form one volume. Only the first
four chapters of the Ascent are given, together with the title and
the first three lines of the fifth chapter. The transcription is
poorly done.
MS. 13,507. An unimportant copy, containing only a few odd
chapters of the Ascent and others from the remaining works of St.
John of the Cross and other writers.
Pamplona. A codex in an excellent state of preservation is
venerated by the Discalced Carmelite nuns of Pamplona. It was
copied, at the end of the sixteenth century, by a Barcelona
Carmelite, M. Magdalena de la Asuncion, and contains a short
summary of the four treatises enumerated above, various poems by
St. John of the Cross and some miscellaneous writings. The Ascent
is abbreviated to the same extent as in 13,498 and 2,201 and by
the same methods; many chapters, too, are omitted in their
entirety.
Alcaudete. This MS., which contains the Ascent only, was
copied by St. John of the Cross's close friend and companion, P.
Juan Evangelista, as a comparison with manuscripts (N.L.M.,
12,738) written in his well-known and very distinctive hand, puts
beyond all doubt. P. Juan, who took the habit of the Reform at
Christmas 1582, knew the Saint before this date; was professed by
him at Granada in 1583; accompanied him on many of his journeys;
saw him write most of his books; and, as his close friend and
confessor, was consulted repeatedly by his biographers.[64] It is
natural that he should also have acted as the Saint's copyist,
and, in the absence of autographs, we should expect no manuscripts
to be more trustworthy than copies made by him. Examination of
this MS. shows that it is in fact highly reliable. It corrects
none of those unwieldy periods in which the Saint's work abounds,
and which the editio princeps often thought well to amend, nor,
like the early editions and even some manuscripts, does it omit
whole paragraphs and substitute others for them. Further, as this
copy was being made solely for the use of the Order, no passages
are omitted or altered in it because they might be erroneously
interpreted as illuministic. It is true that P. Juan Evangelista
is not, from the technical standpoint, a perfect copyist, but,
frequently as are his slips, they are always easy to recognize.
The Alcaudete MS. was found in the Carmelite priory in that
town by P. Andres de la Encarnacion, who first made use of it for
his edition. When the priory was abandoned during the religious
persecutions of the early nineteenth century, the MS. was lost.
Nearly a hundred years passed before it was re-discovered by P.
Silverio de Santa Teresa in a second-hand bookshop [and forms a
most important contribution to that scholar's edition, which
normally follows it]. It bears many signs of frequent use; eleven
folios are missing from the body of the MS. (corresponding
approximately to Book III, Chapters xxii to xxvi) and several more
from its conclusion.
In the footnotes to the Ascent, the following abbreviations
are used:
A = MS. of the Discalced Carmelite Friars of Alba.
Alc. = Alcaudete MS.
B = MS. of the Benedictines of Burgos.
C = N.L.M., MS. 13,498.
D = N.L.M., MS. 2,201.
P = MS. of the Discalced Carmelite Nuns of Pamplona.
E.p. = Editio princeps (Alcala, 1618).
Other editions or manuscripts cited are referred to without
abbreviation.
Ascent Of Mount Carmel
Treats of how the soul may prepare itself in order to attain
in a short time to Divine union. Gives very profitable counsels
and instruction, both to beginners and to proficients, that they
may know how to disencumber themselves of all that is temporal and
not to encumber themselves with the spiritual, and to remain in
complete detachment and liberty of spirit, as is necessary for
Divine union.
ALL the doctrine whereof I intend to treat in this Ascent of
Mount Carmel is included in the following stanzas, and in them is
also described the manner of ascending to the summit of the Mount,
which is the high estate of perfection which we here call union of
the soul with God. And because I must continually base upon them
that which I shall say, I have desired to set them down here
together, to the end that all the substance of that which is to be
written may be seen and comprehended together; although it will be
fitting to set down each stanza separately before expounding it,
and likewise the lines of each stanza, according as the matter and
the exposition require. The poem, then, runs as follows:[65]
STANZAS[66]
Wherein the soul sings of the happy chance which it had in
passing through the dark night of faith, in detachment and
purgation of itself, to union with the Beloved.
1. On a dark night, Kindled[67] in love with yearnings -- oh,
happy chance! --
I went forth without being observed, My house being now
at rest.[68]
2. In darkness and secure, By the secret ladder, disguised
-- oh, happy chance! --
In darkness and in concealment, My house being now at
rest.
3. In the happy night, In secret, when none saw me,
Nor I beheld aught, Without light or guide, save that
which burned in my heart.
4. This light guided me More surely than the light of
noonday,
To the place where he (well I knew who!) was awaiting me
-- A place where none appeared.
5. Oh, night that guided me, Oh, night more lovely than the
dawn,
Oh, night that joined Beloved with lover, Lover
transformed in the Beloved!
6. Upon my flowery breast, Kept wholly for himself alone,
There he stayed sleeping, and I caressed him, And the
fanning of the cedars made a breeze.
7. The breeze blew from the turret As I parted his locks;
With his gentle hand he wounded my neck And caused all
my senses to be suspended.
8. I remained, lost in oblivion;[69] My face I reclined on
the Beloved.
All ceased and I abandoned myself, Leaving my cares
forgotten among the lilies.
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