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MYSTICISM 


MYSTICISM 


A  STUDY 
THE  NATURE  AND   DEVELOPMENT  OF 
MAN'S  SPIRITUAL  CONSCIOUSNESS 


BY 

EVELYN    UNDERHILL 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  GREY  WORLD,"  "THE  COLUMN  OF  DUST,"  ETC. 


THIRD   EDITION,   REVISED 


NEW  YORK 

E.   P,  DUTTON   AND  COMPANY 

31  West  Twenty-third  Street 

1912  *y 


IN    HONOREM 
OMNIUM   ANIMARUM   MYSTICARUM 


Lume  e  lassu,  che  visibile  face 
lo  Creatore  a  quella  creatura 
che  solo  in  lui  vedere  ha  la  sua  pace. 
Par.  xxx.  ioo 

"  When  love  has  carried  us  above  all  things  ...  we  receive  in 
peace  the  Incomprehensible  Light,  enfolding  us  and  penetrating  us. 
What  is  this  Light,  if~it  be  not  a  contemplation  of  the  Infinite, 
and  an  intuition  of  Eternity?  We  behold  that  which  we  are,  and 
we  are  that  which  we  behold;  because  our  being,  without  losing 
anything  of  its  own  personality,  is  united  with  the  Divine  Truth." 

RUYSBROECK 

"  Man  is  the  meeting-point  of  various  stages  of  Reality." 

Rudolph  Eucken 


PREFACE 

THIS  book  falls  naturally  into  two  parts;  each  of  which 
is  really  complete  in  itself,  though  they  are  in  a  sense 
complementary  to  one  another.  Whilst  the  second 
and  longest  part  contains  a  somewhat  detailed  study  of  the 
nature  and  development  of  man's  spiritual  or  mystical  con- 
sciousness, the  first  is  intended  rather  to  provide  an  introduction 
to  the  general  subject  of  mysticism.  Exhibiting  it  by  turns 
from  the  point  of  view  of  metaphysics,  psychology,  and 
symbolism,  it  is  an  attempt  to  gather  between  the  covers  of 
one  volume  information  at  present  scattered  amongst  many 
monographs  and  text-books  written  in  divers  tongues,  and  to 
give  the  student  in  a  compact  form  at  least  the  elementary  facts 
in  regard  to  each  of  those  subjects  which  are  most  closely  con- 
nected with  the  study  of  the  mystics. 

Those  mystics,  properly  speaking,  can  only  be  studied  in 
their  works :  works  which  are  for  the  most  part  left  unread  by 
those  who  now  talk  much  about  mysticism.  Certainly  the  general 
reader  has  this  excuse,  that  the  masterpieces  of  mystical  litera- 
ture, full  of  strange  beauties  though  they  be,  offer  considerable 
difficulties  to  those  who  come  to  them  unprepared.  In  the 
first  seven  chapters  of  this  book  I  have  tried  to  remove  a  few  of 
these  difficulties  ;  to  provide  the  necessary  preparation  ;  and  to 
exhibit  the  relation  in  which  mysticism  stands  to  other  forms  of 
life.  If,  then,  the  readers  of  this  section  are  enabled  by  it  to 
come  to  the  encounter  of  mystical  literature  with  a  greater 
power  of  sympathetic  comprehension  than  they  previously 
possessed,  it  will  have  served  the  purpose  for  which  it  has  been 
composed. 

It  is  probable  that  almost  every  such  reader,  according  to 

vii 


viii  MYSTICISM 

the  angle  from  which  he  approaches  the  subject,  will  here  find  a 
good  deal  which  seems  to  him  superfluous.  But  different  types 
of  mind  will  find  this  unnecessary  elaboration  in  different  places. 
The  psychologist,  approaching  from  the  scientific  standpoint, 
eager  for  morbid  phenomena,  has  little  use  for  disquisitions  on 
symbolism,  religious  or  other.  The  symbolist,  approaching 
from  the  artistic  standpoint,  seldom  admires  the  proceedings  of 
psychology.  I  believe,  however,  that  none  who  wish  to  obtain 
an  idea  of  mysticism  in  its  wholeness,  as  a  form  of  life,  can 
afford  to  neglect  any  of  the  aspects  on  which  these  pages  venture 
to  touch.  The  metaphysician  and  the  psychologist  are  unwise 
if  they  do  not  consider  the  light  thrown  upon  the  ideas  of  the 
mystics  by  their  attitude  towards  orthodox  theology.  The 
theologian  is  still  more  unwise  if  he  refuse  to  hear  the  evidence 
of  psychology.  For  the  benefit  of  those  whose  interest  in 
mysticism  is  chiefly  literary,  and  who  may  care  to  be  provided 
with  a  clue  to  the  symbolic  and  allegorical  element  in  the 
writings  of  the  contemplatives,  a  short  sectionon  those  symbols 
of  which  they  most  often  make  use  has  been  added.  Finally 
the  persistence  amongst  us  of  the  false  opinion  which  confuses 
mysticism  with  occult  philosophy  and  psychic  phenomena,  has 
made  it  necessary  to  deal  with  the  vital  distinction  which  exists 
between  it  and  every  form  of  magic. 

Specialists  in  any  of  these  great  departments  of  knowledge 
will  probably  be  disgusted  by  the  elementary  and  superficial 
manner  in  which  their  specific  sciences  are  here  treated.  But 
this  book  does  not  venture  to  address  itself  to  specialists. 
From  those  who  are  already  fully  conversant  with  the  matters 
touched  upon,  it  asks  the  indulgence  which  really  kindhearted 
adults  are  always  ready  to  extend  towards  the  efforts  of 
youth.  Philosophers  are  earnestly  advised  to  pass  over  the  first 
two  chapters,  and  theologians  to  practise  the  same  charity  in 
respect  of  the  section  dealing  with  their  science. 

The  giving  of  merely  historical  information  is  no  part  of  the 
present  plan  :  except  in  so  far  as  chronology  has  a  bearing  upon 
the  most  fascinating  of  all  histories,  the  history  of  the  spirit  of 
man.  Many  books  upon  mysticism  have  been  based  on  the 
historical  method  :  amongst  them  two  such  very  different  works 


PREFACE  ix 

as  Vaughan's  supercilious  and  unworthy  "  Hours  with  the 
Mystics"  and  Dr.  Inge's  scholarly  Bampton  lectures.  It  is  a 
method  which  seems  to  be  open  to  some  objection :  since 
mysticism  avowedly  deals  with  the  individual  not  as  he  stands 
in  relation  to  the  civilization  of  his  time,  but  as  he  stands  in 
relation  to  truths  that  are  timeless.  All  mystics,  said  Saint- 
Martin,  speak  the  same  language  and  come  from  the  same 
country.  As  against  that  fact,  the  place  which  they  happen 
to  occupy  in  the  kingdom  of  this  world  matters  little. 
Nevertheless,  those  who  are  unfamiliar  with  the  history  of 
mysticism  properly  so  called,  and  to  whom  the  names 
of  the  great  contemplatives  convey  no  accurate  suggestion 
of  period  or  nationality,  may  be  glad  to  have  a  short  state- 
ment of  their  order  in  time  and  distribution  in  space.  Also, 
some  knowledge  of  the  genealogy  of  mysticism  is  desirable  if 
we  are  to  distinguish  the  original  contributions  of  each  indi- 
vidual from  the  mass  of  speculation  and  statement  which  he 
inherits  from  the  past.  Those  entirely  unacquainted  with  these 
matters  may  find  it  helpful  to  glance  at  the  Appendix  before 
proceeding  to  the  body  of  the  work  ;  since  few  things  are  more 
disagreeable  than  the  constant  encounter  of  persons  to  whom 
we  have  not  been  introduced. 

The  second  part  of  the  book,  for  which  the  first  seven 
chapters  are  intended  to  provide  a  preparation,  is  avowedly 
psychological.  It  is  an  attempt  to  set  out  and  justify  a  definite 
theory  of  the  nature  of  man's  mystical  consciousness  :  the 
necessary  stages  of  organic  growth  through  which  the  typical 
mystic  passes,  the  state  of  equilibrium  towards  which  he  tends. 
Each  of  these  stages — and  also  the  characteristically  mystical 
and  still  largely  mysterious  experiences  of  visions  and  voices, 
contemplation  and  ecstasy — though  viewed  from  the  standpoint 
of  psychology,  is  illustrated  from  the  lives  of  the  mystics  ;  and 
where  possible  in  their  own  words.  In  planning  these  chapters 
I  have  been  considerably  helped  by  M.  Delacroix's  brilliant 
"  Etudes  sur  le  Mysticisme,"  though  unable  to  accept  his  con- 
clusions :  and  here  gladly  take  the  opportunity  of  acknowledg- 
ing my  debt  to  him  and  also  to  Baron  von  Hiigel's  classic 
"  Mystical  Element  of  Religion."     This  book,  which  only  came 


x  MYSTICISM 

into  my  hands  when  my  own  was  planned  and  partly  written, 
has  since  been  a  constant  source  of  stimulus  and  encourage- 
ment. 

Finally,  it  is  perhaps  well  to  say  something  as  to  the  exact 
sense  in  which  the  term  "  Mysticism  "  is  here  understood.  One 
of  the  most  abused  words  in  the  English  language,  it  has  been 
used  in  different  and  often  mutually  exclusive  senses  by 
religion,  poetry,  and  philosophy :  has  been  claimed  as  an  excuse 
for  every  kind  of  occultism,  for  dilute  transcendentalism,  vapid 
symbolism,  religious  or  aesthetic  sentimentality,  and  bad  meta- 
physics. On  the  other  hand,  it  has  been  freely  employed  as  a 
term  of  contempt  by  those  who  have  criticized  these  things.  It 
is  much  to  be  hoped  that  it  may  be  restored  sooner  or  later  to 
its  old  meaning,  as  the  science  or  art  of  the  spiritual  life. 

Meanwhile,  those  who  use  the  term  "  Mysticism  "  are  bound 
in  self-defence  to  explain  what  they  mean  by  it.  Broadly 
speaking,  I  understand  it  to  be  the  expression  of  the  innate 
tendency  of  the  human  spirit  towards  complete  harmony  with 
the  transcendental  order  ;  whatever  be  the  theological  formula 
under  which  that  order  is  understood.  This  tendency,  in  great 
mystics,  gradually  captures  the  whole  field  of  consciousness ;  it 
dominates  their  life  and,  in  the  experience  called  M  mystic 
union,"  attains  its  end.  Whether  that  end  be  called  the  God  of 
Christianity,  the  World-soul  of  Pantheism,  the  Absolute  of 
Philosophy,  the  desire  to  attain  it  and  the  movement  towards  it 
— so  long  as  this  is  a  genuine  life  process  and  not  an  intellectual 
speculation — is  the  proper  subject  of  mysticism.  I  believe  this 
movement  to  represent  the  true  line  of  development  of  the 
highest  form  of  human  consciousness. 

It  is  a  pleasant  duty  to  offer  my  heartiest  thanks  to  the 
many  kind  friends  and  fellow  students,  of  all  shades  of  opinion, 
who  have  given  me  their  help  and  encouragement.  Amongst 
those  to  whom  my  heaviest  debt  of  gratitude  is  due  are  Mr.  W. 
Scott  Palmer,  for  much  valuable,  generous,  and  painstaking 
assistance,  particularly  in  respect  of  the  chapter  upon  Vitalism  : 
and  Miss  Margaret  Robinson,  who  in  addition  to  many  other 
kind  offices,  has  made  all  the  translations  from  Meister  Eckhart 
and  Mechthild  of  Magdeburg  here  given. 


PREFACE  xi 

Sections  of  the  MS.  have  been  kindly  read  by  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Inge,  by  Miss  May  Sinclair,  and  by  Miss  Eleanor  Gregory  ; 
from  all  of  whom  I  have  received  much  helpful  and  expert 
advice.  To  Mr.  Arthur  Symons  my  thanks  and  those  of  my 
readers  are  specially  due ;  since  it  is  owing  to  his  generous  per- 
mission that  I  am  able  to  make  full  use  of  his  beautiful  trans- 
lations of  the  poems  of  St.  John  of  the  Cross.  Others  who  have 
given  me  much  help  in  various  directions,  and  to  whom  most 
grateful  acknowledgments  are  here  offered,  are  Miss  Constance 
Jones,  Miss  Ethel  Barker,  Mr.  J.  A.  Herbert  of  the  British 
Museum — who  first  brought  to  my  notice  the  newly  discovered 
"  Mirror  of  Simple  Souls " — the  Rev.  Dr.  Arbuthnot  Nairn, 
Mr.  A.  E.  Waite,  and  Mr.  H.  Stuart  Moore,  F.S.A.  The  sub- 
stance of  two  chapters — those  upon  "  The  Characteristics  of 
Mysticism  "  and  "  Mysticism  and  Magic  " — has  already  appeared 
in  the  pages  of  The  Quest  and  The  Fortnightly  Review. 
These  sections  are  here  reprinted  by  kind  permission  of  their 
respective  editors. 

E.   U. 
Feast  of  St.  John  of  the  Cross 
igio 


Note  to  the  Third  Edition. 

In  revising  this  edition  for  the  press  I  have  availed  myself  ot 
suggestions  made  by  several  friendly  critics :  above  all,  by  the 
Baron  von  Hiigel,  to  whom  I  here  tender  my  most  grateful 
thanks. 

November  jgu  E.  U. 


CONTENTS 

PART   I 
THE   MYSTIC    FACT 

PAGE 

PREFACE      .........       vii 

CHAPTER     I 
THE  POINT  OF  DEPARTURE  ......  3 

CHAPTER    II 
MYSTICISM   AND   VITALISM  .  .        30 

CHAPTER   III 

MYSTICISM  AND   PSYCHOLOGY        .  .  .  .  .  $2 

CHAPTER   IV 

THE  CHARACTERISTICS   OF   MYSTICISM    .  .  .  .  .83 

CHAPTER   V 

MYSTICISM  AND  THEOLOGY  .  .  .  •  •  .      II4 

CHAPTER  VI 

MYSTICISM  AND   SYMBOLISM  .  .  .  .  .  .149 

xiii 


xiv  MYSTICISM 

CHAPTER  VII 

PAGE 

MYSTICISM  AND  MAGIC      .  .  •  .  ,  .  ,      178 


PART   II 
THE   MYSTIC    WAY 

CHAPTER   I 

INTRODUCTORY       ........     203 

CHAPTER   II 

THE  AWAKENING  OF  THE  SELF  .  .  .  .  .  .     213 

CHAPTER   III 

THE  PURIFICATION  OF  THE  SELF  .  .  .  .  .239 

CHAPTER   IV 

THE  ILLUMINATION  OF  THE  SELF  .....     279 

CHAPTER  V 

VOICES  AND  VISIONS  .  .  .  .  .  .  .     319 

CHAPTER  VI 

INTROVERSION.      PART  I.  RECOLLECTION  AND  QUIET  .  .     357 

CHAPTER  VII 

INTROVERSION.      PART  II.  CONTEMPLATION        .  •  .  -392 

CHAPTER    VIII 
ECSTASY  AND  RAPTURE     .  .  .  .  .  .  .427 

CHAPTER   IX 

THE  DARK  NIGHT  OF  THE  SOUL  .  .  .  .  •     453 


CONTENTS  xv 

CHAPTER  X 

PAGE 

THE   UNITIVE  LIFE  .  .     494 

CONCLUSION  .  .  .  .  ,  ,  .531 

APPENDIX 

A  HISTORICAL  SKETCH  OF  EUROPEAN  MYSTICISM  FROM  THE 
BEGINNING  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  ERA  TO  THE  DEATH  OF 
BLAKE.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  541 

BIBLIOGRAPHY  .......     563 

INDEX .     587 


u. 


PART   ONE 

THE   MYSTIC    FACT 


"  What  the  world,  which  truly  knows  nothings  calls  '  mysticism ' 
is  the  science  of  ultimates,  ...  the  science  of  self-evident  Reality, 
which  cannot  be  'reasoned  about,'  because  it  is  the  object  of  pure 
reason  or  perception.  The  Babe  sucking  its  mother's  breast,  and 
the  Lover  returning,  after  twenty  years'  separation,  to  his  home  and 
food  in  the  same  bosom,  are  the  types  and  princes  of  Mystics." 

Coventry  Patmore, 
"The  Rod,  the  Root,  and  the  Flower" 


AN    INTRODUCTION    TO 
MYSTICISM 

CHAPTER   I 
THE  POINT   OF   DEPARTURE 

The  mystic  type— its  persistence—Man's  quest  of  Truth— The  Mystics  claim  to 
have  attained  it — The  foundations  of  experience — The  Self— its  sensations — its  con- 
cepts— The  sense-world — its  unreal  character — Philosophy — its  classic  theories  of 
Reality — Naturalism — its  failures — Idealism — its  limitations — Philosophic  Scepticism 
— the  logical  end  of  Intellectualism — Failure  of  philosophy  and  science  to  discover 
Reality — Emotional  and  spiritual  experience — its  validity— Religion — Suffering — 
Beauty — Their  mystical  aspects — Mysticism  as  the  science  of  the  Real — Its  state- 
ments— its  practice — It  claims  direct  communion  with  the  Absolute 

THE  most  highly  developed  branches  of  the  human 
family  have  in  common  one  peculiar  characteristic. 
They  tend  to  produce — sporadically  it  is  true,  and 
usually  in  the  teeth  of  adverse  external  circumstances — a  curious 
and  definite  type  of  personality  ;  a  type  which  refuses  to  be 
satisfied  with  that  which  other  men  call  experience,  and  is 
inclined,  in  the  words  of  its  enemies,  to  "  deny  the  world  in 
order  that  it  may  find  reality."  We  meet  these  persons  in  the 
east  and  the  west ;  in  the  ancient,  mediaeval,  and  modern 
worlds.  Their  one  passion  appears  to  be  the  prosecution  of  a 
certain  spiritual  and  intangible  quest :  the  finding  of  a  "  way 
out "  or  a  "  way  back  "  to  some  desirable  state  in  which  alone 
they  can  satisfy  their  craving  for  absolute  truth.  This  quest, 
for  them,  has  constituted  the  whole  meaning  of  life  :  they  have 
made  for  it  without  effort  sacrifices  which  have  appeared 
enormous  to  other  men :  and  it  is  an  indirect  testimony  to  its 
objective  actuality,  that  whatever  the  place  or  period  in  which 

3 


*& 


4  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

they  have  arisen,  their  aims,  doctrines  and  methods  have  been 
substantially  the  same.  Their  experience,  therefore,  forms  a 
body  of  evidence,  curiously  self-consistent  and  often  mutually 
explanatory,  which  must  be  taken  into  account  before  we  can 
add  up  the  sum  of  the  energies  and  potentialities  of  the  human 
spirit,  or  reasonably  speculate  on  its  relations  to  the  unknown 
world  which  lies  outside  the  boundaries  of  sense. 

All  men,  at  one  time  or  another,  have  fallen  in  love  with 
the  veiled  Isis  whom  they  call  Truth.  With  most,  this  has 
been  but  a  passing  passion  :  they  have  early  seen  its  hopeless- 
ness and  turned  to  more  practical  things.  But  there  are  others 
who  remain  all  their  lives  the  devout  lovers  of  reality :  though 
the  manner  of  their  love,  the  vision  which  they  make  unto 
themselves  of  the  beloved  object,  varies  enormously.  Some  see 
Truth  as  Dante  saw  Beatrice :  a  figure  adorable  yet  intangible, 
found  in  this  world  yet  revealing  the  next.  To  others  she  seems 
rather  an  evil  yet  an  irresistible  enchantress  :  enticing,  demand- 
ing payment  and  betraying  her  lover  at  the  last.  Some  have 
seen  her  in  a  test  tube,  and  some  in  a  poet's  dream :  some 
before  the  altar,  others  in  the  slime.  The  extreme  pragmatists 
have  even  sought  her  in  the  kitchen  ;  declaring  that  she  may 
best  be  recognized  by  her  utility.  Last  stage  of  all,  the  philo- 
sophic sceptic  has  comforted  an  unsuccessful  courtship  by 
assuring  himself  that  his  mistress  is  not  really  there. 

Under  whatsoever  symbols  they  may  have  objectified  their 
quest,  none  of  these  seekers  Have  ever  been  able  to  assure  the 
world  that  they  have  found,  seen  face  to  face,  the  Reality 
behind  the  veil.  But  if  we  may  trust  the  reports  of  the  mystics 
— and  they  are  reports  given  with  a  strange  accent  of  certainty 
and  good  faith — they  have  succeeded  where  all  these  others 
have  failed,  in  establishing  immediate  communication  between 
the  spirit  of  man,  entangled  as  they  declare  amongst  material 
things,  and  that  "  only  Reality,"  that  immaterial  and  final  Being, 
which  some  philosophers  call  the  Absolute,  and  most  theo- 
logians call  God.  This,  they  say — and  here  many  who  are 
not  mystics  agree  with  them — is  the  hidden  Truth  which  is  the 
object  of  man's  craving  ;  the  only  satisfying  goal  of  his  quest. 
Hence,  they  should  claim  from  us  the  same  attention  that  we 
give  to  other  explorers  of  countries  in  which  we  are  not  com- 
petent to  adventure  ourselves;  for  the  mystics  are  the  pioneers 


THE  POINT  OF  DEPARTURE  5 

of  the  spiritual  world,  and  we  have  no  right  to  deny  validity  to 
their  discoveries,  merely  because  we  lack  the  opportunity  or  the 
courage  necessary  to  those  who  would  prosecute  such  explora- 
tions for  themselves. 

It  is  the  object  of  this  book  to  attempt  a  description,  and 
also — though  this  is  needless  for  those  who  read  that  description 
in  good  faith — a  justification  of  these  experiences  and  the 
conclusions  which  have  been  drawn  from  them.  So  remote, 
however,  are  these  matters  from  our  ordinary  habits  of  thought, 
that  their  investigation  entails,  in  all  those  who  would  attempt 
•  to  understand  them,  a  certain  definite  preparation  :  a  purging  of 
the  intellect.  As  with  those  who  came  of  old  to  the  Mysteries, 
purification  is  here  the  gate  of  knowledge.  We  must  come  to 
this  encounter  with  minds  cleared  of  prejudice  and  convention, 
must  deliberately  break  with  our  inveterate  habit  of  taking  the 
"  visible  world  "  for  granted  ;  our  lazy  assumption  that  somehow 
science  is  "  real  "  and  metaphysics  is  not.  We  must  pull  down 
our  own  card  houses — descend,  as  the  mystics  say,  "  into  our 
nothingness" — and  examine  for  ourselves  the  foundations  of  all 
possible  human  experience,  before  we  are  in  a  position  to 
criticize  the  buildings  of  the  visionaries,  the  poets,  and  the  saints. 
We  must  not  begin  to  talk  of  the  unreal  world  of  these  dreamers 
until  we  have  discovered — if  we  can — a  real  world  with  which  it 
may  be  compared. 

Such  a  criticism  of  reality  is  of  course  the  business  of 
philosophy.  I  need  hardly  say  that  this  book  is  not  written  by 
a  philosopher,  nor  is  it  addressed  to  students  of  that  imperial 
science.  Nevertheless,  amateurs  though  we  be,  we  cannot  reach 
our  proper  starting-point  without  trespassing  to  some  extent  on 
philosophic  ground.  That  ground  covers  the  whole  area  of  first 
principles  :  and  it  is  to  first  principles  that  we  must  go,  if  we 
would  understand  the  true  significance  of  the  mystic  type. 

Let  us  then  begin  at  the  beginning  :  and  remind  ourselves 
of  a  few  of  the  trite  and  primary  facts  which  all  practical  persons 
agree  to  ignore.  That  beginning,  for  human  thought,  is  of 
course  the  I,  the  Ego,  the  self-conscious  subject  which  is  writing 
this  book,  or  the  other  self-conscious  subject  which  is  reading 
it ;  and  which  declares,  in  the  teeth  of  all  arguments,  I  AM.1 

1  Even  this  I  AM,  which  has  seemed  safe  ground  to  most  metaphysicians,  is  of 
course  combated  by  certain  schools  of  philosophy.     "  The  word  Sum,"  said  Eckhart 


0  AN  INTRODUCTION   TO  MYSTICISM 

Here  is  a  point  as  to  which  we  all  feel  quite  sure.  No  meta- 
physician has  yet  shaken  the  ordinary  individual's  belief  in  his 
own  existence.  The  uncertainties  only  begin  for  most  of  us 
when  we  ask  what  else  is. 

To  this  I,  this  conscious  self  "  imprisoned  in  the  body  like 
an  oyster  in  his  shell,"  x  come,  as  we  know,  a  constant  stream  of 
messages  and  experiences.  Chief  amongst  these  are  the 
stimulation  of  the  tactile  nerves  whose  result  we  call  touch,  the 
vibrations  taken  up  by  the  optic  nerve  which  we  call  light,  and 
those  taken  up  by  the  ear  and  perceived  as  sound. 

What  do  these  experiences  mean  ?  The  first  answer  of  the 
unsophisticated  Self  of  course  is,  that  they  indicate  the  nature 
of  the  external  world  :  it  is  to  the  "  evidence  of  her  senses  "  that 
she  turns,  when  she  is  asked  what  that  world  is  like.  From  the 
messages  received  through  those  senses,  which  pour  in  on  her 
whether  she  will  or  no,  batter  upon  her  gateways  at  every 
instant  and  from  every  side,  she  constructs  that  "  sense-world ' 
which  is  the  "  real  and  solid  world  "  of  normal  men.  As  the 
impressions  come  in — or  rather  those  interpretations  of  the 
original  impressions  which  her  nervous  system  supplies — she 
pounces  on  them,  much  as  players  in  the  spelling-game  pounce 
on  the  separate  letters  dealt  out  to  them.  She  sorts,  accepts, 
rejects,  combines :  and  then  triumphantly  produces  from  them 
a  "concept"  which  is,  she  says,  the  external  world.  With  an 
enviable  and  amazing  simplicity  she  attributes  her  own  sensa- 
tions to  the  unknown  universe.  The  stars,  she  says,  are 
bright;  the  grass  is  green.  For  her,  as  for  the  philosopher 
Hume,  "reality  consists  in  impressions  and  ideas." 

It  is  immediately  apparent,  however,  that  this  sense-world, 
this  seemingly  real  external  universe — though  it  may  be  useful 
and  valid  in  other  respects — cannot  be  the  external  world,  but 
only  the  Self's  projected  picture  of  it.2     It  is  a  work  of  art,  not 

long  ago,  "  can  be  spoken  by  no  creature  but  by  God  only :  for  it  becomes  the 
creature  to  testify  of  itself  Non  Sum."  In  a  less  mystical  strain  Lotze,  and  after 
him  Bradley  and  other  modern  writers,  have  devoted  much  destructive  criticism  to  the 
concept  of  the  Ego  as  the  starting-point  of  philosophy :  looking  upon  it  as  a  large, 
and  logically  unwarrantable,  assumption. 

1  Plato,  Phaedrus,  §  250. 

9  Thus  Eckhart,  "Every  time  that  the  powers  of  the  soul  come  into  contact  with 
created  things,  they  receive  and  create  images  and  likenesses  from  the  created  thing 
and  absorb  them.     In  this  way  arises  the  soul's  knowledge    of  created   things. 


THE   POINT   OF  DEPARTURE  7 

a  scientific  fact ;  and,  whilst  it  may  well  possess  the  profound 
significance  proper  to  great  works  of  art,  is  dangerous  if  treated 
as  a  subject  of  analysis.  Very  slight  investigation  will  be 
enough  to  suggest  that  it  is  a  picture  whose  relation  to  reality 
is  at  best  symbolic  and  approximate,  and  which  would  have  no 
meaning  for  s^es  whose  senses,  or  channels  of  communication, 
happened  to  be  arranged  upon  a  different  plan.  The  evidence 
of  the  senses,  then,  cannot  safely  be  accepted  as  evidence  of  the 
nature  of  ultimate  reality :  useful  servants,  they  are  dangerous 
guides.  Nor  can  their  testimony  disconcert  those  seekers 
whose  reports  they  appear  to  contradict. 

The  conscious  self  sits,  so  to  speak,  at  the  receiving  end 
of  a  telegraph  wire.  On  any  other  theory  than  that  of 
mysticism,  it  is  her  one  channel  of  communication  with  the 
hypothetical  "  external  world."  The  receiving  instrument 
registers  certain  messages.  She  does  not  know,  and — so  long 
as  she  remains  dependent  on  that  instrument — never  can 
know,  the  object,  the  reality  at  the  other  end  of  the  wire, 
by  which  those  messages  are  sent ;  neither  can  the  messages 
truly  disclose  the  nature  of  that  object.  But  she  is  justified 
on  the  whole  in  accepting  them  as  evidence  that  something 
exists  beyond  herself  and  her  receiving  instrument.  It  is 
obvious  that  the  structural  peculiarities  of  the  telegraphic 
instrument  will  have  exerted  a  modifying  effect  upon  the 
message.  That  which  is  conveyed  as  dash  and  dot,  colour 
and  shape,  may  have  been  received  in  a  very  different  form. 
Therefore  this  message,  though  it  may  in  a  partial  sense  be 
relevant  to  the  supposed  reality  at  the  other  end,  can  never 
be  adequate  to  it.  There  will  be  fine  vibrations  which  it 
fails  to  take  up,  others  which  it  confuses  together.  Hence  a 
portion  of  the  message  is  always  lost ;  or,  in  other  language, 
there  are  aspects  of  the  world  which  we  can  never  know. 

The  sphere  of  our  possible  intellectual  knowledge  is  thus 
strictly  conditioned  by  the  limits  of  our  own  personality.     On 

Created  things  cannot  come  nearer  to  the  soul  than  this,  and  the  soul  can  only 
approach  created  things  by  the  voluntary  reception  of  images.  And  it  is  through  the 
presence  of  the  image  that  the  soul  approaches  the  created  world  :  for  the  image  is  a 
Thing,  which  the  soul  creates  with  her  own  powers.  Does  the  soul  want  to  know  the 
nature  of  a  stone — a  horse — a  man?  She  forms  an  image." — Meister  Eckhart, 
Pred.  i.  ("  Mystische  Schriften,"  p.  15). 


8  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

this  basis,  not  the  ends  of  the  earth,  but  the  external  termini 
of  our  own  sensory  nerves,  are  the  termini  of  our  explora- 
tions :  and  to  "  know  oneself"  is  really  to  know  one's 
universe.  We  are  locked  up  with  our  receiving  instruments  : 
we  cannot  get  up  and  walk  away  in  the  hope  of  seeing 
whither  the  lines  lead.  Eckhart's  words  are  still  final  for 
us :  "  the  soul  can  only  approach  created  things  by  the 
voluntary  reception  of  images."  Did  some  mischievous 
Demiurge  choose  to  tickle  our  sensory  apparatus  in  a  new 
way,  we  should  receive  by  this  act  a  new  universe. 

The  late  Professor  James  once  suggested  as  a  useful 
exercise  for  young  idealists  a  consideration  of  the  changes 
which  would  be  worked  in  our  ordinary  world  if  the  various 
branches  of  our  receiving  instruments  happened  to  exchange 
duties ;  if,  for  instance,  we  heard  all  colours  and  saw  all 
sounds.  Such  a  remark  as  this  throws  a  sudden  light  on 
the  strange  and  apparently  insane  statement  of  the  visionary 
Saint-Martin,  "  I  heard  flowers  that  sounded,  and  saw  notes 
that  shone " ;  and  on  the  reports  of  certain  other  mystics 
concerning  a  rare  moment  of  consciousness  in  which  the 
senses  are  fused  into  a  single  and  ineffable  act  of  percep- 
tion ;  and  colour  and  sound  are  known  as  aspects  of  the 
same  thing.1 

Since  music  is  but  an  interpretation  of  certain  vibrations 
undertaken  by  the  ear,  and  colour  an  interpretation  of  other 
vibrations  performed  by  the  eye,  all  this  is  less  mad  than 
it  sounds.  Were  such  an  alteration  of  our  senses  to  take 
place  the  world  would  still  be  sending  us  the  same  messages 
— that  strange  unknown  world  from  which,  on  this  hypothesis, 
we  are  hermetically  sealed — but  we  should  have  interpreted 
them  differently.  Beauty  would  still  be  ours,  though  speaking 
another  tongue.  The  bird's  song  would  then  strike  our  retina 
as  a  pageant  of  colour :  we  should  see  all  the  magical  tones 
of  the  wind,  hear  as  a  great  fugue  the  repeated  and  harmonized 
greens  of  the  forest,  the  cadences  of  stormy  skies.  Did  we 
realize  how  slight  an  adjustment  of  our  own  organs  is  needed 
to    initiate  us  into   such  a  world,  we   should    perhaps  be  less 

1  Thus  Edward  Carpenter  says  of  his  own  experience  of  the  onset  of  mystical 
consciousness,  "  The  perception  seems  to  be  one  in  which  all  the  senses  unite  into 
one  sense  "  (quoted  in  Bucke's  "  Cosmic  Consciousness,"  p.  198). 


THE   POINT   OF   DEPARTURE  9 

contemptuous  of  those  mystics  who  tell  us  that  they  appre- 
hended the  Absolute  as  "  heavenly  music "  or  "  Uncreated 
Light  *  :  less  fanatical  in  our  determination  to  make  the 
"real  and  solid  world  of  common  sense"  the  only  standard 
of  reality.  This  "  world  of  common  sense "  is  a  conceptual 
wqrld.  It  may  represent  an  external  universe :  it  certainly 
does  represent  the  activity  of  the  human  mind.  Within 
that  mind  it  is  built  up :  and  there  most  of  us  are  content 
"at  ease  for  aye  to  dwell,"  like  the  soul  in  the  Palace  of  Art. 

A  direct  encounter  with  absolute  truth,  then,  appears  to 
be  impossible  for  normal  non-mystical  consciousness.  We 
cannot  know  the  reality,  or  even  prove  the  existence,  of  the 
simplest  object :  though  this  is  a  limitation  which  few  people 
realize  acutely  and  most  would  strenuously  deny.  But  there 
persists  in  the  race  a  type  of  personality  which  does  realize 
this  limitation  :  and  cannot  be  content  with  the  sham  realities 
that  furnish  the  universe  of  normal  men.  It  is  necessary,  as 
it  seems,  to  the  comfort  of  persons  of  this  type  to  form 
for  themselves  some  image  of  the  Something  or  Nothing 
which  is  at  the  end  of  their  telegraph  lines  :  some  "  conception 
of  being,"  some  "theory  of  knowledge."  They  are  tormented 
by  the  Unknowable,  ache  for  first  principles,  demand  some 
background  to  the  shadow  show  of  things.  In  so  far  as  man 
possesses  this  temperament,  he  hungers  for  reality,  and  must 
satisfy  that  hunger  as  best  he  can :  staving  off  starvation, 
though  he  may  not  be  filled. 

Now  it  is  doubtful  whether  any  two  selves  have  offered 
themselves  exactly  the  same  image  of  the  truth  outside  their 
gates  :  for  a  living  metaphysic,  like  a  living  religion,  is  at 
bottom  a  strictly  personal  affair — a  matter,  as  Professor  James 
reminded  us,  of  vision  rather  than  of  argument.1  Nevertheless 
such  a  living  metaphysic  may — and  if  sound  generally  does — 
escape  the  stigma  of  subjectivism  by  outwardly  attaching  itself 
to  a  traditional  School ;  as  personal  religion  may  and  should 
outwardly  attach  itself  to  a  traditional  church.  Let  us  then 
consider  shortly  the  results  arrived  at  by  these  traditional 
schools — the  great  classic  theories  concerning  the  nature  of 
reality.  In  them  we  see  crystallized  the  best  that  the  human 
intellect,  left  to  itself,  has  been  able  to  achieve. 

1  "A  Pluralistic  Universe,"  p.  10. 


10  AN   INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

i.  The  most  obvious  and  most  generally  accepted  ex- 
planation of  the  world  is  of  course  that  of  Naturalism  or 
Realism  :  the  point  of  view  at  once  of  the  plain  man  and 
of  physical  science.  Naturalism  states  simply  that  we  see 
the  real  world,  though  we  may  not  see  it  very  well.  What 
seems  to  normal  healthy  people  to  be  there,  is  approximately 
there.  It  congratulates  itself  on  resting  in  the  concrete ;  it 
accepts  material  things  as  real.  In  other  words,  our  corrected 
and  correlated  sense  impressions,  raised  to  their  highest  point 
of  efficiency,  form  for  it  the  only  valid  material  of  knowledge : 
knowledge  itself  being  the  classified  results  of  exact  observation. 

Now  such  an  attitude  as  this  may  be  a  counsel  of 
prudence,  in  view  of  our  ignorance  of  all  that  lies  beyond  : 
but  it  can  never  satisfy  our  hunger  for  reality.  It  says  in 
effect,  "  The  room  in  which  we  find  ourselves  is  fairly  com- 
fortable. Draw  the  curtains,  for  the  night  is  dark  :  and  let 
us  devote  ourselves  to  describing  the  furniture."  Unfor- 
tunately, however,  even  the  furniture  refuses  to  accommo- 
date itself  to  the  naturalistic  view  of  things.  Once  we 
begin  to  examine  it  attentively,  we  find  that  it  abounds 
in  hints  of  wonder  and  mystery :  declares  aloud  that  even 
chairs  and  tables  are  not  what  they  seem. 

We  have  seen  that  the  most  elementary  criticism,  applied  to 
any  ordinary  object  of  perception,  tends  to  invalidate  the  simple 
and  comfortable  creed  of  "  common  sense " ;  that  not  merely 
faith,  but  gross  credulity,  is  needed  by  the  mind  which  would 
accept  the  apparent  as  the  real.  I  say,  for  instance,  that  I 
"  see "  a  house.  I  can  only  mean  by  this  that  the  part  of 
my  receiving  instrument  which  undertakes  the  duty  called 
vision  is  affected  in  a  certain  way,  and  arouses  in  my  mind 
the  idea  "  house."  The  idea  "  house  "  is  now  treated  by  me  as 
a  real  house,  and  my  further  observations  will  be  an  unfolding 
enriching,  and  defining  of  this  image.  But  what  the  external 
reality  is  which  evoked  the  image  that  1  call  "  house,"  I  do 
not  know  and  never  can  know.  It  is  as  mysterious,  as  far 
beyond  my  apprehension,  as  the  constitution  of  the  angelic 
choirs.  Consciousness  shrinks  in  terror  from  contact  with  the 
mighty  verb  "to  be."  I  may  of  course  call  in  one  sense  to 
"  corroborate,"  as  we  trustfully  say,  the  evidence  of  the  other ; 
may  approach  the  house,  and  touch  it.     Then  the  nerves  of 


THE  POINT  OF  DEPARTURE  11 

my  hand  will  be  affected  by  a  sensation  which  I  translate 
as  hardness  and  solidity ;  the  eye  by  a  peculiar  and  wholly 
incomprehensible  sensation  called  redness ;  and  from  these 
purely  personal  changes  my  mind  constructs  and  externalizes 
an  idea  which  it  calls  red  bricks.  Science  herself,  however, 
if  she  be  asked  to  verify  the  reality  of  these  perceptions, 
at  once  declares  that  though  the  material  world  be  real, 
the  ideas  of  solidity  and  colour  are  but  hallucination.  They 
belong  to  the  human  animal,  not  to  the  physical  universe : 
pertain  to  accident  not  substance,  as  scholastic  philosophy 
would  say. 

"The  red  brick,"  says  Science,  "is  a  mere  convention.  In 
reality  that  bit,  like  all  other  bits  of  the  universe,  consists,  so  far 
as  I  know  at  present,  of  innumerable  atoms  whirling  and  dancing 
one  about  the  other.  It  is  no  more  solid  than  a  snowstorm. 
Were  you  to  eat  of  Alice-in-Wonderland's  mushroom  and 
shrink  to  the  dimensions  of  the  infra-world,  each  atom  might 
seem  to  you  a  planet  and  the  red  brick  itself  a  universe.  More- 
over, these  atoms  themselves  elude  me  as  I  try  to  grasp  them. 
They  are  only  manifestations  of  something  else.  Could  I  track 
matter  to  its  lair,  I  might  conceivably  discover  that  it  has  no 
extension,  and  become  an  idealist  in  spite  of  myself.  As  for 
redness,  as  you  call  it,  that  is  a  question  of  the  relation  between 
your  optic  nerve  and  the  light  waves  which  it  is  unable  to 
absorb.  This  evening,  when  the  sun  slopes,  your  brick  will 
probably  be  purple ;  a  very  little  deviation  from  normal  vision 
on  your  part  would  make  it  green.  Even  the  sense  that  the 
object  of  perception  is  outside  yourself  may  be  fancy  ;  since 
you  as  easily  attribute  this  external  quality  to  images  seen  in 
dreams,  and  to  waking  hallucinations,  as  you  do  to  those  objects 
which,  as  you  absurdly  say,  are  "  really  there!' 

Further,  there  is  no  trustworthy  standard  by  which  we  can 
separate  the  "  real  "  from  the  "  unreal "  aspects  of  phenomena. 
Such  standards  as  exist  are  conventional :  and  correspond  to  con- 
venience, not  to  truth.  It  is  no  argument  to  say  that  most  men 
see  the  world  in  much  the  same  way,  and  that  this  "  way  "  is  the 
true  standard  of  reality  :  though  for  practical  purposes  we  have 
agreed  that  sanity  consists  in  sharing  the  hallucinations  of  our 
neighbours.  Those  who  are  honest  with  themselves  know  that 
this  "  sharing  "  is  at  best  incomplete.     By  the  voluntary  adop- 


12  AN  INTRODUCTION   TO   MYSTICISM 

tion  of  a  new  conception  of  the  universe,  the  fitting  of  a  new 
alphabet  to  the  old  Morse  code — a  proceeding  which  we  call  the 
acquirement  of  knowledge — we  can  and  do  change  to  a  marked 
extent  our  way  of  seeing  things  :  building  up  new  worlds  from 
old  sense  impressions,  and  transmuting  objects  more  easily  and 
thoroughly  than  any  magician.  "  Eyes  and  ears,"  said  Hera- 
cleitus,  "  are  bad  witnesses  to  those  who  have  barbarian  souls  "  : 
and  even  those  whose  souls  are  civilized  tend  to  see  and  hear  all 
things  through  a  temperament.  In  one  and  the  same  sky  the 
poet  may  discover  the  veritable  habitation  of  angels,  whilst  the 
sailor  sees  only  a  promise  of  dirty  weather  ahead.  Hence, 
artist  and  surgeon,  Christian  and  rationalist,  pessimist  and 
optimist,  do  actually  and  truly  live  in  different  and  mutually 
exclusive  worlds,  not  only  of  thought  but  also  of  perception. 
Each,  in  Professor  James's  phrase,  literally  "  dichotomizes  the 
Kosmos  in  a  different  place."  Only  the  happy  circumstance 
that  our  ordinary  speech  is  conventional,  not  realistic,  permits 
us  to  conceal  from  one  another  the  unique  and  lonely  world  in 
which  each  lives.  Now  and  then  an  artist  is  born,  terribly 
articulate,  foolishly  truthful,  who  insists  on  "Speaking  as  he 
saw."  Then  other  men,  lapped  warmly  in  their  artificial 
universe,  agree  that  he  is  mad  :  or,  at  the  very  best,  an  ".extra- 
ordinarily imaginative  fellow." 

Moreover,  even  this  unique  world  of  the  individual  is  not 
permanent.  Each  of  us,  as  we  grow  and  change,  works  inces- 
santly and  involuntarily  at  the  re-making  of  our  sensual 
universe.  We  behold  at  any  specific  moment  not  "  that  which 
is,"  but  "  that  which  we  are  "  ;  and  personality  undergoes  many 
readjustments  in  the  course  of  its  passage  from  birth  through 
maturity  to  death.  The  mind  which  seeks  the  Real,  then,  in 
this  shifting  and  subjective  "  natural  "  world  is  of  necessity 
thrown  back  on  itself:  on  images  and  concepts  which  owe  more 
to  the  "  seer  "  than  to  the  "  seen."  But  Reality  must  be  real  for 
all,  once  they  have  found  it :  must  exist  "  in  itself"  upon  a  plane 
of  being  unconditioned  by  the  perceiving  mind.  Only  thus  can 
it  satisfy  that  mind's  most  vital  instinct,  most  sacred  passion — 
its  "  instinct  for  the  Absolute,"  its  passion  for  truth. 

You  are  not  asked,  as  a  result  of  these  antique  and  elemen- 
tary propositions,  to  wipe  clean  the  slate  of  normal  human 
experience,  and  cast  in  your  lot  with  intellectual  nihilism.     You 


THE  POINT  OF   DEPARTURE  13 

are  only  asked  to  acknowledge  that  it  is  but  a  slate,  and  that 
the  white  scratches  upon  it  which  the  drdinary  man  calls  facts, 
and  the  Scientific  Realist  calls  knowledge,  are  at  best  relative 
and  conventionalized  symbols  of  that  aspect  of  the  unknowable 
reality  at  which  they  hint.  This  being  so,  whilst  we  must  all 
draw  a  picture  of  some  kind  on  our  slate  and  act  in  relation 
therewith,  we  cannot  deny  the  validity — though  we  may  deny 
the  usefulness — of  the  pictures  which  others  produce,  however 
abnormal  and  impossible  they  may  seem ;  since  these  are 
sketching  an  aspect  of  reality  which  has  not  come  within  our 
sensual  field,  and  so  does  not  and  cannot  form  part  of  our  world. 
Yet,  as  the  theologian  claims  that  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity 
veils  and  reveals  not  Three  but  One,  so  the  varied  aspects  under 
which  the  universe  appears  to  the  perceiving  consciousness  hint 
at  a  final  reality,  or  in  Kantian  language  a  Transcendental 
Object,  which  shall  be,  not  any  one,  yet  all  of  its  manifestations  ; 
transcending  yet  including  the  innumerable  fragmentary  worlds 
of  individual  conception.  We  begin,  then,  to  ask  what  can  be 
the  nature  of  this  One  ;  and  whence  comes  the  persistent  instinct 
which — receiving  no  encouragement  from  sense  experience — 
apprehends  and  desires  this  unknown  unity,  this  all-inclusive 
Absolute,  as  the  only  possible  satisfaction  of  its  thirst  for  truth. 
2.  The  second  great  conception  of  Being — Idealism — has 
arrived  by  a  process  of  elimination  at  a  tentative  answer  to  this 
question.  It  whisks  us  far  from  the  material  universe,  with  its 
interesting  array  of  "  things,"  its  machinery,  its  law,  into  the 
pure,  if  thin,  air  of  a  metaphysical  world.  Whilst  the  naturalist's 
world  is  constructed  from  an  observation  of  the  evidence  offered 
by  the  senses,  the  Idealist's  world  is  constructed  from  an 
observation  of  the  processes  of  thought.  There  are  but  two 
things,  he  says  in  effect,  about  which  we  are  sure :  the 
existence  of  a  thinking  subject,  a  conscious  Self,  and  of  an 
object,  an  Idea,  with  which  that  subject  deals.  We  know,  that 
is  to  say,  both  Mind  and  Thought.  What  we  call  the  universe 
is  really  a  collection  of  such  thoughts;  and  these,  we  agree,  have 
been  more  or  less  distorted  by  the  subject,  the  individual 
thinker,  in  the  process  of  assimilation.  Obviously,  we  do  not 
think  all  that  there  is  to  be  thought,  conceive  all  that  there  is  to 
be  conceived  :  neither  do  we  necessarily  combine  in  right  order 
and  proportion  those  ideas  which  we  are  capable  of  grasping. 


14  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

Reality,  says  Objective  Idealism,  is  the  complete,  undistorted 
Object,  the  big  thought,  of  which  we  pick  up  these  fragmentary 
hints :  the  world  of  phenomena  which  we  treat  as  real  being 
merely  its  shadow  show  or  "  manifestation  in  space  and  time." 

According  to  the  form  of  Objective  Idealism  here  chosen 
from  amongst  many  as  typical — for  almost  every  Idealist  has 
his  own  scheme  of  metaphysical  salvation1 — we  live  in  a 
universe  which  is,  in  popular  language,  the  Idea,  or  Dream  of  its 
Creator.  We,  as  Tweedledum  explained  to  Alice  in  the  most 
philosophic  of  all  fairy  tales,  are  "just  part  of  the  dream."  All 
life,  all  phenomena,  are  the  endless  modifications  and  expres- 
sions of  the  one  transcendent  Object,  the  mighty  and  dynamic 
Thought  of  one  Absolute  Thinker  in  which  we  are  bathed. 
This  Object,  or  certain  aspects  of  it — and  the  place  of  each 
individual  consciousness  within  the  Cosmic  Thought,  or,  as  we 
say,  our  position  in  life,  must  largely  determine  which  these 
aspects  shall  be — is  interpreted  by  the  senses  and  conceived  by 
the  mind,  under  limitations  which  we  are  accustomed  to  call 
matter,  space,  and  time.  But  we  have  no  reason  to  suppose 
that  matter,  space,  and  time  are  necessarily  parts  of  reality  ;  of 
the  ultimate  Idea.  Probability  points  rather  to  their  being  the 
pencil  and  paper  with  which  we  sketch  it.  As  our  vision,  our 
idea  of  things,  tends  to  approximate  more  and  more  to  that  of 
the  Eternal  Idea,  so  we  get  nearer  and  nearer  to  reality :  for  the 
idealist's  reality  is  simply  the  Idea,  or  Thought  of  God.  This, 
he  says,  is  the  supreme  unity  at  which  all  the  illusory  appear- 
ances that  make  up  the  widely  differing  worlds  of "  common 
sense,"  of  science,  of  metaphysics,  and  of  art  dimly  hint.  This  is 
the  sense  in  which  it  can  truly  be  said  that  only  the  supernatural 
possesses  reality ;  for  that  world  of  appearance  which  we  call 
natural  is  certainly  largely  made  up  of  preconception  and 
illusion,  of  the  hints  offered  by  the  eternal  real  world  of 
Idea  outside  our  gates,  and  the  quaint  concepts  which  we  at  our 
receiving  instruments  manufacture  from  them. 

There  is  this  to  be  said  for  the  argument  of  Idealism  :  that 
in  the  last  resort,  the  destinies  of  mankind  are  invariably  guided, 
not  by  the  concrete  "  facts  "  of  the  sense  world,  but  by  concepts 

1  There  are  four  main  groups  ol  such  schemes :  (i)  Subjective;  (2)  Objective  ; 
(3)  Transcendental  (Kantian) ;  (4)  Absolute  (Hegelian).  To  these  must  perhaps  be 
added  the  Immanental  Idealism  of  Professor  Eucken. 


THE  POINT  OF  DEPARTURE  15 

which  are  acknowledged  by  every  one  to  exist  only  on  the 
mental  plane.  In  the  great  moments  of  existence,  when  he 
rises  to  spiritual  freedom,  these  are  the  things  which  every  man 
feels  to  be  real.  It  is  by  these  and  for  these  that  he  is  found 
willing  to  live,  work,  suffer,  and  die.  Love,  empire,  religion, 
altruism,  fame,  all  belong  to  the  transcendental  world.  Hence, 
they  partake  more  of  the  nature  of  reality  than  any  "  fact " 
could  do ;  and  man,  dimly  recognizing  this,  has  ever  bowed  to 
them  as  to  immortal  centres  of  energy.  Religions  as  a  rule  are 
steeped  in  idealism  :  Christianity  in  particular  is  a  trumpet  call 
to  an  idealistic  conception  of  life,  Buddhism  is  little  less.  Over 
and  over  again,  their  Scriptures  tell  us  that  only  materialists 
will  be  damned. 

In  Idealism  we  have  perhaps  the  most  sublime  theory  of 
Being  which  has  ever  been  constructed  by  the  human  intellect : 
a  theory  so  sublime,  in  fact,  that  it  can  hardly  have  been  pro- 
duced by  the  exercise  of  "  pure  reason "  alone,  but  must  be 
looked  upon  as  a  manifestation  of  that  natural  mysticism,  that 
instinct  for  the  Absolute,  which  is  latent  in  man.  But,  when  we 
ask  the  idealist  how  we  are  to  attain  communion  with  the  reality 
which  he  describes  to  us  as  "  certainly  there,"  his  system  sud- 
denly breaks  down ;  and  discloses  itself  as  a  diagram  of  the 
heavens,  not  a  ladder  to  the  stars.  This  failure  of  Idealism  to 
find  in  practice  the  reality  of  which  it  thinks  so  much  is  due, 
in  the  opinion  of  the  mystics,  to  a  cause  which  finds  epigram- 
matic expression  in  the  celebrated  phrase  by  which  St.  Jerome 
marked  the  distinction  between  religion  and  philosophy.  "  Plato 
located  the  soul  of  man  in  the  head  ;  Christ  located  it  in  the 
heart."  That  is  to  say,  Idealism,  though  just  in  its  premises, 
and  often  daring  and  honest  in  their  application,  is  stultified  by 
the  exclusive  intellectualism  of  its  own  methods :  by  its  fatal 
trust  in  the  squirrel-work  of  the  industrious  brain  instead  of  the 
piercing  vision  of  the  desirous  heart.  It  interests  man,  but  does 
not  involve  him  in  its  processes :  does  not  catch  him  up  to  the 
new  and  more  real  life  which  it  describes.  Hence  the  thing 
that  mattered,  the  living  thing,  has  somehow  escaped  it ;  and 
its  observations  bear  the  same  relation  to  reality  as  the  art  of 
the  anatomist  does  to  the  mystery  of  birth. 

3.  But  there  is  yet  another  Theory  of  Being  to  be  con- 
sidered :    that   which   may  be  loosely   defined    as   Philosophic 


16  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

Scepticism.  This  is  the  attitude  of  those  selves  who  refuse 
to  accept  either  the  realistic  or  the  idealistic  answer  to  the 
eternal  question :  and,  confronted  in  their  turn  with  the  riddle 
of  reality,  reply  that  there  is  no  riddle  to  solve.  We  of  course 
assume  for  the  ordinary  purposes  of  life  that  for  every  sequence 
a :  b :  present  in  our  consciousness  there  exists  a  mental  or 
material  A :  B  :  in  the  external  universe  ;  and  that  the  first 
is  a  strictly  relevant,  though  probably  wholly  inadequate,  ex- 
pression of  the  second.  The  bundle  of  visual  and  auditory 
sensations,  for  instance,  whose  sum  total  I  am  accustomed  to 
call  Mrs.  Smith,  corresponds  with  something  that  exists  in  the 
actual  as  well  as  in  my  phenomenal  world.  Behind  my  Mrs. 
Smith,  behind  the  very  different  Mrs.  Smith  which  the  X-rays 
would  exhibit,  there  is,  contends  the  Objective  Idealist,  a  trans- 
cendental, or  in  the  Platonic  sense  an  ideal  Mrs.  Smith,  at 
whose  qualities  I  cannot  even  guess ;  but  whose  existence 
is  quite  independent  of  my  apprehension  of  it.  But  though 
we  do  and  must  act  on  this  hypothesis,  it  remains  only  a 
hypothesis  ;  and  it  is  one  which  philosophic  scepticism  will 
not  let  pass. 

The  external  world,  say  the  sceptical  schools,  is — so  far  as 
I  know  it — a  concept  present  in  my  mind.  If  my  mind  ceased 
to  exist,  so  far  as  I  know  the  concept  which  I  call  the  world 
would  cease  to  exist  too.  The  one  thing  which  for  me  in- 
dubitably is,  is  the  self's  experience,  its  whole  consciousness. 
Outside  this  circle  of  consciousness  I  have  no  authority  to 
indulge  in  guesses  as  to  what  may  or  may  not  Be.  Hence,  for 
me,  the  Absolute  is  a  meaningless  diagram,  a  superfluous  com- 
plication of  thought :  since  the  mind,  wholly  cut  off  from 
contact  with  external  reality,  has  no  reason  to  suppose  that 
such  a  reality  exists  except  in  its  own  ideas.  Every  effort 
made  by  philosophy  to  go  forth  in  search  of  it  is  merely  the 
metaphysical  squirrel  running  round  the  conceptual  cage.  In 
the  completion  and  perfect  unfolding  of  the  set  of  ideas  with 
which  our  consciousness  is  furnished,  lies  the  only  reality  which 
we  can  ever  hope  to  know.  Far  better  to  stay  here  and  make 
ourselves  at  home  :  only  this,  for  us,  truly  is. 

This  purely  subjective  conception  of  Being  has  found  repre- 
sentatives in  every  school  of  thought :  even  including,  by  a 
curious  paradox,  that  of  mystical  philosophy,  its  one  effective 


THE   POINT  OF  DEPARTURE  17 

antagonist.  Thus  Delacroix,  after  an  exhaustive  and  even 
sympathetic  analysis  of  St.  Teresa's  progress  towards  union 
with  the  Absolute,  ends  upon  the  assumption  that  the  God 
with  whom  she  was  united  was  the  content  of  her  own  sub- 
conscious mind.1  Such  a  mysticism  is  that  of  a  kitten  running 
after  its  own  tail :  a  different  path  indeed  from  that  which  the 
great  seekers  for  reality  have  pursued.  The  reductio  ad  absurdum 
of  this  doctrine  is  found  in  the  so-called  "  philosophy  "  of  New 
Thought,  which  begs  its  disciples  to  "try  quietly  to  realize  that 
the  Infinite  is  really  You."2  By  its  utter  denial  not  merely  of 
a  knowable,  but  of  a  logically  conceivable  Transcendent,  it 
drives  us  in  the  end  to  the  conclusion  of  extreme  pragmatism  ; 
that  Truth,  for  us,  is  not  an  immutable  reality,  but  merely 
that  idea  which  happens  to  work  out  as  true  and  useful  in  any 
given  experience.  There  is  no  reality  behind  appearance,  no 
Isis  behind  the  veil ;  therefore  all  faiths,  all  figments  with  which 
we  people  that  nothingness  are  equally  true,  provided  they  be 
comfortable  and  good  to  live  by. 

Logically  carried  out,  this  conception  of  Being  would  permit 
each  man  to  regard  other  men  as  non-existent  except  within 
his  own  consciousness  :  the  only  place  where  a  strict  scepticism 
will  allow  that  anything  exists.  Even  the  mind  which  con- 
ceives consciousness  exists  for  us  only  in  our  own  conception 
of  it ;  we  no  more  know  what  we  are  than  we  know  what  we 
shall  be.  Man  is  left  a  conscious  Something  in  the  midst,  so 
far  as  he  knows,  of  Nothing:  with  no  resources  save  the  exploring 
of  his  own  consciousness. 

Philosophic  scepticism  is  particularly  interesting  to  us  in 
our  present  inquiry,  because  it  shows  us  the  position  in  which 
"  pure  reason,"  if  left  to  itself,  is  bound  to  end.  It  is  utterly 
logical ;  and  though  we  may  feel  it  to  be  absurd,  we  can  never 
prove  it  to  be  so.  Those  persons  who  are  temperamentally 
inclined  to  credulity  may  become  naturalists,  and  persuade 
themselves  to  believe  in  the  reality  of  the  sense  world.  Those 
with  a  certain  instinct  for  the  Absolute  may  adopt  the  more 
reasonable  faith  of  idealism.  But  the  true  intellectualist,  who 
concedes  nothing  to  instinct  or  emotion,  is  obliged  in  the  end 
to  adopt  some  form  of  sceptical  philosophy.     The  horrors  of 

1  Delacroix,  "  Etudes  sur  le  Mysticisme,"  p.  62. 

8  E.  Towne,  "  Just  how  to  Wake  the  Solar  Plexus,"  p.  25. 


18  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

nihilism,  in  fact,  can  only  be  escaped  by  the  exercise  of  faith : 
by  a  trust  in  man's  innate  but  strictly  irrational  instinct  for  that 
Real  "above  all  reason,  beyond  all, 'thought "  towards  which  at 
its  best  moments  his  spirit  tends,  /if  the  metaphysician  be  true 
to  his  own  postulates,  he  is  compelled  at  last  to  acknowledge 
that  we  are  forced,  every  one  of  us,  to  live,  to  think,  and  at  last 
to  die,  in  an  unknown  and  unknowable  world  :  fed  arbitrarily 
and  diligently,  yet  how  we  know  not,  by  ideas  and  suggestions 
whose  truth  we  cannot  test  but  whose  pressure  we  cannot  resist. 
It  is  not  by  sight  but  by  faith — faith  in  a  supposed  external 
order  which  we  can  never  prove  to  exist,  and  in  the  approxi- 
mate truthfulness  and  constancy  of  the  vague  messages  which 
we  receive  from  it — that  ordinary  men  must  live  and  move. 
We  must  put  our  trust  in  "  laws  of  nature "  which  have  been 
devised  by  the  human  mind  as  a  convenient  epitome  of  its  own 
observations  of  phenomena,  must,  for  the  purposes  of  daily  life, 
accept  these  phenomena  at  their  face  value  :  an  act  of  faith 
beside  which  the  grossest  superstitions  of  the  Neapolitan 
peasant  are  hardly  noticeable.  , 

The  intellectual  quest  oO&eality,  then,  leads  us  down  one 
of  three  blind  alleys :  (i)  To  an  acceptance  of  the  symbolic 
world  of  appearance  as  the  real ;  (2)  to  the  elaboration  of  a 
theory — also  of  necessity  symbolic — which,  beautiful  in  itself 
cannot  help  us  to  attain  the  Absolute  which  it  describes  ;  (3)  to 
a  hopeless  but  strictly  logical  scepticism. 

In  answer  to  the  "  Why  ?  Why  ?  "  of  the  bewildered  and 
eternal  child  in  us,  philosophy,  though  always  ready  to  postulate 
the  unknown  if  she  can,  is  bound  to  reply  only,  "  Nescio ! 
Nescio  /"  In  spite  of  all  her  busy  map-making,  she  cannot 
reach  the  goal  which  she  points  out  to  us :  cannot  explain  the 
curious  conditions  under  which  we  imagine  that  we  know ; 
cannot  even  divide  with  a  sure  hand  the  subject  and  object  of 
thought.  Science,  whose  business  is  with  phenomena  and  our 
knowledge  of  them,  though  she  too  is  an  idealist  at  heart,  has 
been  accustomed  to  explain  that  all  our  ideas  and  instincts, 
the  pictured  world  that  we  take  so  seriously,  the  oddly  limited 
and  illusory  nature  of  our  experience,  appear  to  minister  to  one 
great  end  :  the  preservation  of  life,  and  consequent  fulfilment  of 
that  highly  mystical  hypothesis,  the  Cosmic  Idea.  Each  per- 
ception, she  assures  us,  serves  a  useful  purpose  in  this  evolu- 


THE   POINT   OF  DEPARTURE  19 

tionary  scheme :  a  scheme,  by  the  way,  which  has  been  invented 
— we  know  not  why — by  the  human  mind,  and  imposed  upon 
an  obedient  universe. 

By  vision,  hearing,  smell,  and  touch,  says  Science,  we  find 
our  way  about,  are  warned  of  danger,  obtain  our  food.  The 
male  perceives  beauty  in  the  female  in  order  that  the 
species  may  be  propagated.  It  is  true  that  this  primitive 
instinct  has  given  birth  to  higher  and  purer  emotions ;  but 
these  too  fulfil  a  social  purpose  and  are  not  so  useless  as  they 
seem.  Man  must  eat  to  live,  therefore  many  foods  give  us 
agreeable  sensations.  If  he  over  eats,  he  dies  ;  therefore  indi- 
gestion is  an  unpleasant  pain.  Certain  facts  of  which  too  keen 
a  perception  would  act  detrimentally  to  the  life-force  are,  for 
most  men,  impossible  of  realization  :  £*.,  the  uncertainty  of  life, 
the  decay  of  the  body,  the  vanity  of  all  things  under  the  sun. 
When  we  are  in  good  health,  we  all  feel  very  real,  solid,  and 
permanent ;  and  this  is  of  all  our  illusions  the  most  ridiculous, 
and  also  the  most  obviously  useful  from  the  point  of  view  of  the 
efficiency  and  preservation  of  the  race. 

But  when  we  look  a  little  closer,  we  see  that  this  brisk 
generalization  does  not  cover  all  the  ground — not  even  that 
little  tract  of  ground  of  which  our  senses  make  us  free ; 
indeed,  that  it  is  more  remarkable  for  its  omissions  than  for 
its  inclusions.  Recejac  has  well  said  that  "  from  the  moment 
in  which  man  is  no  longer  content  to  devise  things  useful  for 
his  existence  under  the  exclusive  action  of  the  will-to-live,  the 
principle  of  (physical)  evolution  has  been  violated." x  Nothing 
can  be  more  certain  than  that  man  is  not  so  content.  He  has 
been  called  by  utilitarian  philosophers  a  tool-making  animal — 
the  highest  praise  they  knew  how  to  bestow.  More  surely  he  is 
a  vision-making  animal ; 2  a  creature  of  perverse  and  unpractical 
ideals,  dominated  by  dreams  no  less  than  by  appetites — dreams 
which  can  only  be  justified  upon  the  theory  that  he  moves 
towards  some  other  goal  than  that  of  physical  perfection  or 
intellectual  supremacy,  is  controlled  by  some  higher  and  more 
vital  reality  than  that  of  the  determinists.      One  is  driven  to 

1  "Fondements  de  la  Connaissance  Mystique,"  p.  15. 

2  Or,  as  St.  Thomas  Aquinas  suggests,  a  contemplative  animal,  since  "this  act 
alone  in  man  is  proper  to  him,  and  is  in  no  way  shared  by  any  other  being  in  this 
world"  (M  Sumnaa  Contra  Gentiles,"  1.  iii.  cap.  xxxvii.,  Rickaby's  translation). 


20  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

the  conclusion  that  if  the  theory  of  evolution  is  to  include 
or  explain  the  facts  of  artistic  and  spiritual  experience — and 
it  cannot  be  accepted  by  any  serious  thinker  if  these  great 
tracts  of  consciousness  remain  outside  its  range — it  must  be 
rebuilt  on  a  mental  rather  than  a  physical  basis. 

Even  the  most  normal,  most  ordinary  human  life  includes 
in  its  range  fundamental  experiences — violent  and  unforgettable 
sensations — forced  on  us  as  it  were  against  our  will,  for  which 
science  finds  it  hard  to  account.  These  experiences  and  sensa- 
tions, and  the  hours  of  exalted  emotion  which  they  bring  with 
them — often  recognized  by  us  as  the  greatest,  most  significant 
hours  of  our  lives — fulfil  no  office  in  relation  to  her  pet  u  func- 
tions of  nutrition  and  reproduction."  It  is  true  that  they  are 
far-reaching  in  their  effects  on  character ;  but  they  do  little  or 
nothing  to  assist  that  character  in  its  struggle  for  physical  life. 
To  the  unprejudiced  eye  many  of  them  seem  hopelessly  out 
of  place  in  a  universe  constructed  on  strictly  physico-chemical 
lines — look  almost  as  though  nature,  left  to  herself,  tended  to 
contradict  her  own  beautifully  logical  laws.  Their  presence, 
more,  the  large  place  which  they  fill  in  the  human  world  of 
appearance,  is  a  puzzling  circumstance  for  deterministic  philo- 
sophers ;  who  can  only  escape  from  the  dilemma  here  presented 
to  them  by  calling  these  things  illusions,  and  dignifying  their 
own  more  manageable  illusions  with  the  title  of  facts. 

Amongst  the  more  intractable  of  these  groups  of  perceptions 
and  experiences  are  those  which  we  connect  with  religion,  with 
pain,  and  with  beauty.  All  three,  for  those  selves  which  are 
capable  of  receiving  their  messages,  possess  a  mysterious 
authority  far  in  excess  of  those  feelings,  arguments,  or 
appearances  which  they  may  happen  to  contradict.  All 
three,  were  the  universe  of  the  naturalists  true,  would  be 
absurd;  all  three  have  ever  been  treated  with  the  reverence 
due  to  vital  matters  by  the  best  minds  of  the  race. 

A.  I  need  not  point  out  the  hopelessly  irrational  character  of 
all  great  religions,  which  rest,  one  and  all,  on  a  primary  assump- 
tion that  can  never  be  intellectually  demonstrated,  much  less 
proved ;  the  assumption  that  the  supra-sensible  is  somehow 
important  and  real,  and  can  be  influenced  by  the  activities 
of  man.  This  fact  has  been  incessantly  dwelt  upon  by  their 
critics,    and    has    provoked    many    a    misplaced    exercise   of 


THE   POINT   OF  DEPARTURE  21 

ingenuity  on  the  part  of  their  intelligent  friends.  Yet  religion 
— emphasizing  and  pushing  to  extremes  that  general  depend- 
ence on  faith  which  we  saw  to  be  an  inevitable  condition  of  our 
lives — is  one  of  the  most  universal  and  ineradicable  functions 
of  man,  and  this  although  it  constantly  acts  detrimentally  to 
the  interests  of  his  merely  physical  existence,  opposes  "the 
exclusive  action  of  the  will-to-live,"  except  in  so  far  as  that  will 
aspires  to  eternal  life.  Strictly  utilitarian,  almost  logical  in  the 
savage,  religion  becomes  more  and  more  transcendental  with 
the  upward  progress  of  the  race.  It  begins  as  black  magic  ; 
it  ends  as  Pure  Love.  Why  did  the  Cosmic  Idea  elaborate  this 
religious  instinct,  if  the  construction  put  upon  its  intentions  by 
the  determinists  be  true? 

B.  Consider  again  the  whole  group  of  phenomena  which 
are  known  as  "  the  problem  of  suffering " :  the  mental 
anguish  and  physical  pain  which  appear  to  be  the  inevitable 
result  of  the  steady  operation  of  "natural  law"  and  its 
voluntary  assistants,  the  cruelty,  greed,  and  injustice  of  man. 
Here,  it  is  true,  the  naturalist  seems  at  first  sight  to  make  a 
little  more  headway,  and  is  able  to  point  to  some  amongst  the 
cruder  forms  of  suffering  which  are  clearly  useful  to  the  race : 
punishing  us  for  past  follies,  spurring  to  new  efforts,  warning 
against  future  infringements  of  "law."  But  he  forgets  the 
many  others  which  refuse  to  be  resumed  under  this  simple 
formula  :  forgets  to  explain  how  it  is  that  the  Cosmic  Idea 
involves  the  long  torments  of  the  incurable,  the  tortures  of 
the  innocent,  the  deep  anguish  of  the  bereaved,  the  existence 
of  so  many  gratuitously  agonizing  forms  of  death.  He  forgets, 
too,  the  strange  fact  that  man's  capacity  for  suffering  tends  to 
increase  in  depth  and  subtlety  with  the  increase  of  culture  and 
civilization ;  ignores  the  still  more  mysterious,  perhaps  most 
significant  circumstance  that  the  highest  types  have  accepted 
it  eagerly  and  willingly,  have  found  in  Pain  the  grave  but 
kindly  teacher  of  immortal  secrets,  the  conferrer  of  liberty 
even  the  initiator  into  amazing  joys. 

Those  who  "  explain "  suffering  as  the  result  of  nature's 
immense  fecundity — a  by-product  of  that  overcrowding  and 
stress  through  which  the  fittest  tend  to  survive — forget  that 
even  were  this  demonstration  valid  and  complete  it  would  leave 
the  real  problem  untouched.    The  question  is  not,  whence  come 


22  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

those  conditions  which  provoke  in  the  self  the  experiences 
called  sorrow,  anxiety,  pain  :  but,  why  do  these  conditions  hurt 
the  self?  The  pain  is  mental ;  a  little  chloroform,  and  though 
the  conditions  continue  unabated  the  suffering  is  gone.  Why 
does  full  consciousness  always  include  the  mysterious  capacity 
for  misery  as  well  as  for  happiness — a  capacity  which  seems 
at  first  sight  to  invalidate  any  conception  of  the  Absolute  as 
Beautiful  and  Good?  Why  does  evolution,  as  we  ascend  the 
ladder  of  life,  foster  instead  of  diminishing  the  capacity  for 
useless  mental  anguish,  for  long,  dull  torment,  bitter  grief? 
Why,  when  so  much  lies  outside  our  limited  powers  of  per- 
ception, when  so  many  of  our  own  most  vital  functions  are 
unperceived  by  consciousness,  does  suffering  of  some  sort  form 
an  integral  part  of  the  experience  of  man  ?  For  utilitarian  pur- 
poses acute  discomfort  would  be  quite  enough ;  the  Cosmic 
Idea,  as  the  determinists  explain  it,  did  not  really  need  an 
apparatus  which  felt  all  the  throes  of  cancer,  the  horrors  of 
neurasthenia,  the  pangs  of  birth.  Still  less  did  it  need  the 
torments  of  impotent  sympathy  for  other  people's  irremediable 
pain,  the  dreadful  power  of  feeling  the  world's  woe.  We  are 
hopelessly  over-sensitized  for  the  part  science  calls  us  to  play. 
Pain,  however  we  may  look  at  it,  indicates  a  profound  dis- 
harmony between  the  sense-world  and  the  human  self.  If  it  is 
to  be  vanquished,  either  the  disharmony  must  be  resolved  by 
a  deliberate  and  careful  adjustment  of  the  self  to  the  world 
of  sense,  or,  that  self  must  turn  from  the  sense-world  to  some 
other  with  which  it  is  in  tune.1  Pessimist  and  optimist  here 
join  hands.  But  whilst  the  pessimist,  resting  in  appearance, 
only  sees  "nature  red  in  tooth  and  claw"  offering  him  little 
hope  of  escape,  the  optimist  thinks  that  pain  and  anguish — 
which  may  in  their  lower  forms  be  life's  harsh  guides  on  the 
path  of  physical  evolution — in  their  higher  and  apparently 
"useless"  developments  are  her  leaders  and  teachers  in  the 
upper  school  of  Supra-sensible  Reality.  He  believes  that  they 
press  the  self  towards  another  world,  still  "  natural "  for  him, 
though  "  super-natural "  for  his  antagonist,  in  which  it  will  be 
more  at  home.  Watching  life,  he  sees  in  Pain  the  complement 
of  Love  :  and  is  inclined  to  call  these  the  wings  on  which  man's 

1  All  the  healing  arts,  from  ^sculapius  and  Galen  to  Metchnikoff  and  Mrs.  Eddy, 
have  virtually  accepted  and  worked  upon  these  two  principles. 


THE   POINT   OF  DEPARTURE  23 

spirit  can  best  take  flight  towards  the  Absolute.  Hence  he 
can  say  with  A  Kempis,  "  Gloriari  in  tribulatione  non  est  grave 
amanti,"  1  and  needs  not  to  speak  of  morbid  folly  when  he  sees 
the  Christian  saints  run  eagerly  and  merrily  to  the  Cross.2 

He  calls  suffering  the  "gymnastic  of  eternity,"  the  "terrible 
initiative  caress  of  God  "  ;  recognizing  in  it  a  quality  for  which  • 
the  disagreeable  rearrangement  of  nerve  molecules  cannot 
account.  Sometimes,  in  the  excess  of  his  optimism,  he  puts 
to  the  test  of  practice  this  theory  with  all  its  implications. 
Refusing  to  be  deluded  by  the  pleasures  of  the  sense  world, 
he  accepts  instead  of  avoiding  pain,  and  becomes  an  ascetic  ; 
a  puzzling  type  for  the  convinced  naturalist,  who,  falling  back 
upon  contempt — that  favourite  resource  of  the  frustrated  reason 
— can  only  regard  him  as  diseased. 

Pain,  then,  which  plunges  like  a  sword  through  creation, 
leaving  on  the  one  side  cringing  and  degraded  animals  and 
on  the  other  side  heroes  and  saints,  is  one  of  those  facts  of 
universal  experience  which  are  peculiarly  intractable  from  the 
point  of  view  of  a  merely  materialistic  philosophy. 

C.  From  this  same  point  of  view  the  existence  of  music 
and  poetry,  the  qualities  of  beauty  and  of  rhythm,  the  evoked 
sensations  of  awe,  reverence,  and  rapture,  are  almost  as 
difficult  to  account  for.  The  question  why  an  apparent  corru- 
gation of  the  Earth's  surface,  called  for  convenience'  sake  an 
Alp,  coated  with  congealed  water,  and  perceived  by  us  as  a 
snowy  peak,  should  produce  in  certain  natures  acute  sensations 
of  ecstasy  and  adoration,  why  the  skylark's  song  should  catch 
us  up  to  heaven,  and  wonder  and  mystery  speak  to  us  alike  in 
"  the  little  speedwell's  darling  blue  "  and  in  the  cadence  of  the 
wind,  is  a  problem  that  seems  to  be  merely  absurd,  until  it  is 
seen  to  be  insoluble.  Here  Madam  How  and  Lady  Why  alike 
are  silent.  With  all  our  busy  seeking,  we  have  not  found  the 
sorting  house  where  loveliness  is  extracted  from  the  flux  of 
things.r  We  know  not  why  "  great "  poetry  should  move  us  to 
unspeakable   emotion,   or  a   stream   of  notes,  arranged    in    a 

1  "  De  Imitatione  Christi,"  1.  ii.  cap.  vi. 

2  '  *  Such  as  these,  I  say,  as  if  enamoured  of  My  honour  and  famished  for  the  food 
of  souls,  run  to  the  table  of  the  Most  holy  Cross,  willing  to  suffer  pain.  ...  To  these, 
My  most  dear  sons,  trouble  is  a  pleasure,  and  pleasure  and  every  consolation  that  the 
world  would  offer  them  are  a  toil ' '  (St.  Catherine  of  Siena,  Dialogo,  cap.  xxviii.) 
Here  and  throughout  I  have  used  Thorold's  translation. 


24  AN  INTRODUCTION   TO  MYSTICISM 

peculiar  sequence,  catch  us  up  to  heightened  levels  of  vitality : 
nor  can  we  guess  how  a  passionate  admiration  of  that  which  we 
call  "best"  in  art  or  letters  can  possibly  contribute  to  the 
physical  evolution  of  the  race.  In  spite  of  many  lengthy  dis- 
quisitions on  aesthetics,  Beauty's  secret  is  still  her  own.  A 
shadowy  companion,  half  seen,  half  guessed  at,  she  keeps  step 
with  the  upward  march  of  life  :  and  we  receive  her  message 
and  respond  to  it,  not  because  we  understand  it  but  because 
we  must. 

Here  it  is  that  we  approach  that  attitude  of  the  self,  that 
point  of  view,  which  is  loosely  and  generally  called  mystical. 
Here,  instead  of  those  broad  blind  alleys  which  philosophy 
showed  us,  a  certain  type  of  mind  has  always  discerned  three 
strait  and  narrow  ways  going  out  towards  the  Absolute.  In 
religion,  in  pain,  in  beauty,  and  the  ecstasy  of  artistic  satisfac- 
tion— and  not  only  in  these,  but  in  many  other  apparently 
useless  peculiarities  of  the  empirical  world  and  of  the  perceiving 
consciousness — these  persons  insist  that  they  recognize  at  any 
rate  the  fringe  of  the  real.  Down  these  three  paths,  as  well  as 
by  many  another  secret  way,  they  claim  that  news  comes  to  the 
self  concerning  levels  of  reality  which  in  their  wholeness  are 
inaccessible  to  the  senses :  worlds  wondrous  and  immortal, 
whose  existence  is  not  conditioned  by  the  "  given  "  world  which 
those  senses  report.  "  Beauty,"  said  Hegel,  who,  though  he  was 
no  mystic,  had  a  touch  of  that  mystical  intuition  which  no 
philosopher  can  afford  to  be  without,  "  is  merely  the  Spiritual 
making  itself  known  sensuously."  *  "  In  the  good,  the  beautiful, 
the  true,"  says  Rudolph  Eucken,  "  we  see  Reality  revealing  its 
personal  character.  They  are  parts  of  a  coherent  and  sub- 
stantial spiritual  world."2  Here,  some  of  the  veils  of  that 
substantial  world  are  stripped  off :  Reality  peeps  through,  and 
is  recognized  dimly,  or  acutely,  by  the  imprisoned  self. 

R£cejac  only  develops  this  idea  when  he  says,3  "  If  the  mind 
penetrates  deeply  into  the  facts  of  aesthetics,  it  will  find  more 
and  more,  that  these  facts  are  based  upon  an  ideal  identity 
between  the  mind  itself  and  things.  At  a  certain  point  the 
harmony  becomes  so  complete,  and  the  finality  so  close  that  it 

1  "Philosophy  of  Religion,"  vol.  ii.  p.  8. 

2  M  Der  Sinn  und  Wert  des  Lebens,"  p.  148. 

3  "Fondements  de  la  Connaissance  Mystique,"  p.  74. 


THE   POINT  OP  DEPARTURE  25 

gives  us  actual  emotion.  The  Beautiful  then  becomes  the 
sublime ;  brief  apparition,  by  which  the  soul  is  caught  up  into 
the  true  mystic  state,  and  touches  the  Absolute.  It  is  scarcely 
possible  to  persist  in  this  aesthetic  perception  without  feeling 
lifted  up  by  it  above  things  and  above  ourselves,  in  an  ontological 
vision  which  closely  resembles  the  Absolute  of  the  Mystics." 

It  was  of  this  underlying  reality — this  truth  of  things — that 
St.  Augustine  cried  in  a  moment  of  lucid  vision,  "  Oh,  Beauty  so 
old  and  so  new,  too  late  have  I  loved  thee  ! " x  It  is  in  this 
sense  also  that  "  beauty  is  truth,  truth  beauty  "  :  and  as  regards 
the  knowledge  of  ultimate  things  which  is  possible  to  ordinary 
men,  it  may  well  be  that 

"  That  is  all 
Ye  know  on  earth,  and  all  ye  need  to  know." 

"  Of  Beauty,"  says  Plato  in  an  immortal  passage,  "  I  repeat 
again  that  we  saw  her  there  shining  in  company  with  the 
celestial  forms  ;  and  coming  to  earth  we  find  her  here  too 
shining  in  clearness  through  the  clearest  aperture  of  sense. 
For  sight  is  the  most  piercing  of  our  bodily  senses  :  though  not 
by  that  is  wisdom  seen ;  her  loveliness  would  have  been  trans- 
porting if  there  had  been  a  visible  image  of  her,  and  the  other 
ideas,  if  they  had  visible  counterparts,  would  be  equally  lovely. 
But  this  is  the  privilege  of  Beauty,  that  being  the  loveliest  she  is 
also  the  most  palpable  to  sight  Now  he  who  is  not  newly 
initiated,  or  who  has  been  corrupted,  does  not  easily  rise  out  of 
this  world  to  the  sight  of  true  beauty  in  the  other.  .  .  .  But  he 
whose  initiation  is  recent,  and  who  has  been  the  spectator  of 
many  glories  in  the  other  world,  is  amazed  when  he  sees  any- 
one having  a  godlike  face  or  form,  which  is  the  expression  of 
Divine  Beauty  ;  and  at  first  a  shudder  runs  through  him,  and 
again  the  old  awe  steals  over  him.  .  .  ."  3 

1  Aug.  Conf.,  bk.  x.  cap.  xxvii. 

2  Phaedrus,  §  250  (Jowett's  translation).  The  reference  in  the  phrase  "he  whose 
initiation  Is  fecent"  is  to  the  rite  of  admission  into  the  Greek  Mysteries.  It  is  believed 
by  some  authorities  that  the  neophyte  was  then  cast  into  an  hypnotic  sleep  by  his 
"initiator,"  and  whilst  in  this  condition  a  vision  of  the  ''glories  of  the  other  world  " 
was  suggested  to  him.  The  main  phenomena  of  "  conversion  "  were  thus  artificially 
produced  :  but  the  point  of  attack  being  the  mind  rather  than  the  heart,  the  results, 
as  would  appear  from  the  context,  were  usually  transient.  See  for  matter  bearing  on 
this  point,  Rudolf  Steiner,  "  Das  Christenthum  als  mystiche  Thatsache." 


26  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

Most  men  in  the  course  of  their  lives  have  known  such 
Platonic  hours  of  initiation,  when  the  sense  of  beauty  has  risen 
from  a  pleasant  feeling  to  a  passion,  and  an  element  of  strange- 
ness and  terror  has  been  mingled  with  their  joy.  In  those 
hours  the  world  has  seemed  charged  with  a  new  vitality ;  with 
a  splendour  which  does  not  belong  to  it  but  is  poured  through 
it,  as  light  through  a  coloured  window,  grace  through  a  sacra- 
ment, from  that  Perfect  Beauty  which  "  shines  in  company  with 
the  celestial  forms  "  beyond  the  pale  of  appearance.  In  such 
moods  of  heightened  consciousness  each  blade  of  grass  seems 
fierce  with  meaning,  and  becomes  a  well  of  wondrous  light : 
a  "  little  emerald  set  in  the  City  of  God."  The  seeing  self  is 
indeed  an  initiate  thrust  suddenly  into  the  sanctuary  of  the 
mysteries :  and  feels  the  "  old  awe  and  amazement "  with  which 
man  encounters  the  Real.  In  such  experiences  as  these,  a  new 
factor  of  the  eternal  calculus  appears  to  be  thrust  in  on  us,  a 
factor  which  no  honest  seeker  for  truth  can  afford  to  neglect ; 
since,  if  it  be  dangerous  to  say  that  any  two  systems  of  know- 
ledge are  mutually  exclusive,  it  is  still  more  dangerous  to  give 
uncritical  priority  to  any  one  system.  We  are  bound,  then,  to 
examine  this  path  to  reality  as  closely  and  seriously  as  we 
should  investigate  the  most  neatly  finished  safety-ladder  of 
solid  ash  which  offered  a  salita  alle  stelle. 

Why,  after  all,  take  as  our  standard  a  material  world  whose 
existence  is  affirmed  by  nothing  more  trustworthy  than  the 
sense-impressions  of  "  normal  men " ;  those  imperfect  and 
easily  cheated  channels  of  communication  ?  The  mystics,  those 
adventurers  of  whom  we  spoke  upon  the  first  page  of  this 
book,  have  always  declared,  implicitly  or  explicitly,  their 
distrust  in  these  channels  of  communication.  They  have 
never  for  an  instant  been  deceived  by  phenomena,  nor  by  the 
careful  logic  of  the  industrious  intellect.  One  after  another, 
with  extraordinary  unanimity,  they  have  rejected  that  appeal 
to  the  unreal  world  of  appearance  which  is  the  standard  of  all 
sensible  men :  affirming  that  there  is  another  way,  another 
secret,  by  which  the  conscious  self  may  reach  the  actuality 
which  it  seeks.  More  complete  in  their  grasp  of  experience 
than  the  votaries  of  intellect  or  of  sense,  they  accept  as  central 
for  life  those  spiritual  messages  which  are  mediated  to  the  self 
by  religion,  by  beauty,  and  by  pain.     More  reasonable  than  the 


THE   POINT  OF  DEPARTURE  27 

rationalists,  they  find  in  that  very  hunger  for  reality  which  is 
the  mother  of  all  metaphysics,  an  implicit  proof  that  such  reality 
exists ;  that  there  is  something  else,  some  final  satisfaction, 
beyond  the  ceaseless  stream  of  sensation  which  besieges  con- 
sciousness. "In  that  thou  hast  sought  me,  thou  hast  already 
found  me,"  says  the  voice  of  Absolute  Truth  in  their  ears. 
This  is  the  first  doctrine  of  mysticism.  Its  next  is  that  only 
in  so  far  as  the  self  is  real  can  it  hope  to  know  Reality :  like 
to  like  :  Cor  ad  cor  loquitur.  Upon  the  propositions  implicit  in 
these  two  laws  the  whole  claim  and  practice  of  the  mystic  life 
depends. 

"  Finite  as  we  are,"  they  say — and  here  they  speak  not 
for  themselves,  but  for  the  race — u  lost  though  we  seem  to  be 
in  the  woods  or  in  the  wide  air's  wilderness,  in  this  world  of 
time  and  of  chance,  we  have  still,  like  the  strayed  animals  or 
like  the  migrating  birds,  our  homing  instinct.  .  .  .  We  seek. 
That  is  a  fact.  We  seek  a  city  still  out  of  sight.  In  the  con- 
trast with  this  goal,  we  live.  But  if  this  be  so,  then  already  we 
possess  something  of  Being  even  in  our  finite  seeking.  For 
the  readiness  to  seek  is  already  something  of  an  attainment, 
even  if  a  poor  one."  x 

Further,  in  this  our  finite  seeking  we  are  not  wholly  de- 
pendent on  that  homing  instinct.  For  some,  who  have  climbed 
to  the  hill-tops,  that  city  is  not  really  out  of  sight  The  mystics 
see  it  clearly.  They  report  to  us  concerning  it.  Science  and 
metaphysics  may  do  their  best  and  their  worst :  but  these  path- 
finders of  the  spirit  never  falter  in  their  statements  concerning 
that  independent  spiritual  world  which  is  the  only  goal  of 
"  pilgrim  man."  They  say  that  messages  come  to  him  from 
that  spiritual  world,  that  complete  reality  which  we  call 
Absolute :  that  we  are  not,  after  all,  hermetically  sealed  from 
it.  To  all  selves  who  will  receive  it,  news  comes  every  hour 
of  the  day  of  a  world  of  Absolute  Life,  Absolute  Beauty, 
Absolute  Truth,  beyond  the  bourne  of  time  and  place :  news 
that  most  of  us  translate — and  inevitably  distort  in  the  process 
— into  the  language  of  religion,  of  beauty,  of  love,  or  of  pain. 

Of  all  those  forms  of  life  and  thought  with  which  humanity 
has  fed  its  craving  for  truth,  mysticism  alone  postulates,  and  in 
the  persons  of  its  great  initiates  proves,  not  only  the  existence 

1  Royce,  "The  World  and  the  Individual,"  vol.  i.  p.  181. 


28  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

of  the  Absolute,  but  also  this  link  :  this  possibility  first  of 
knowing,  finally  of  attaining  it.  It  denies  that  possible  know- 
ledge is  to  be  limited  (a)  to  sense  impressions,  (b)  to  any 
process  of  intellectation,  (c)  to  the  unfolding  of  the  content  of 
normal  consciousness.  Such  diagrams  of  experience,  it  says, 
are  hopelessly  incomplete.  The  mystics  find  the  basis  of  their 
method  not  in  logic  but  in  life :  in  the  existence  of  a  discover- 
able "  real,"  a  spark  of  true  being,  within  the  seeking  subject 
which  can,  in  that  ineffable  experience  which  they  call  the 
"act  of  union,"  fuse  itself  with  and  thus  apprehend  the  reality 
of  the  sought  Object.  In  theological  language,  their  theory  of 
knowledge  is  that  the  spirit  of  man,  itself  essentially  divine,  is 
capable  of  immediate  communion  with  God,  the  One  Reality.1 

In  mysticism  that  love  of  truth  which  we  saw  as  the 
beginning  of  all  philosophy  leaves  the  merely  intellectual 
sphere,  and  takes  on  the  assured  aspect  of  a  personal  passion. 
Where  the  philosopher  guesses  and  argues,  the  mystic  lives  and 
looks  ;  and  speaks,  consequently,  the  disconcerting  language  of 
first-hand  experience,  not  the  neat  dialectic  of  the  schools. 
Hence  whilst  the  Absolute  of  the  metaphysicians  remains  a 
diagram — impersonal  and  unattainable — the  Absolute  of  the 
mystics  is  lovable,  attainable,  alive. 

"  Oh,  taste  and  see !  "  they  cry,  in  accents  of  astounding 
certainty  and  joy.  a  Ours  is  an  experimental  science.  We  can 
but  communicate  our  system,  never  its  result.  We  come  to 
you  not  as  thinkers,  but  as  doers.  Leave  your  deep  and  absurd 
trust  in  the  senses,  with  their  language  of  dot  and  dash,  which 
may  possibly  report  fact  but  can  never  communicate  per- 
sonality. If  philosophy  has  taught  you  anything,  she  has 
surely  taught  you  the  length  of  her  tether,  and  the  impossibility 
of  attaining  to  the  doubtless  admirable  grazing  land  which  lies 
beyond  it.  One  after  another,  idealists  have  arisen  who,  straining 
frantically  at  the  rope,  have  announced  to  the  world  their  ap- 
proaching liberty ;  only  to  be  flung  back  at  last  into  the  little 

1  The  idea  of  Divine  Union  as  man's  true  end  is  of  course  of  immeasurable 
antiquity.  Its  first  definite  appearance  in  the  religious  consciousness  of  Europe 
seems  to  coincide  with  the  establishment  of  the  Orphic  Mysteries  in  Greece  and 
Southern  Italy  in  the  sixth  century  B.C.  See  Adam,  "The  Religious  Teachers  of 
Greece,"  p.  92.  It  is  also  found  in  the  Hermetic  writings,  which  vary  between  the 
fifth  and  second  century  B.C.  Compare  Petrie,  ' '  Personal  Religion  in  Egypt  before 
Christianity,"  p.  102,  and  Rhode,  "  Psyche"  (1898). 


THE   POINT  OF   DEPARTURE  29 

circle  of  sensation.  But  here  we  are,  a  small  family,  it  is  true, 
yet  one  that  refuses  to  die  out,  assuring  you  that  we  have 
slipped  the  knot  and  are  free  of  those  grazing  grounds.  This  is 
evidence  which  you  are  bound  to  bring  into  account  before  you 
can  add  up  the  sum  total  of  possible  knowledge ;  for  you  will 
find  it  impossible  to  prove  that  the  world  as  seen  by  the 
mystics,  '  unimaginable,  formless,  dark  with  excess  of  bright/ 
is  less  real  than  that  which  is  expounded  by  the  youngest  and 
most  promising  demonstrator  of  a  physico-chemical  universe. 
We  will  be  quite  candid  with  you.  Examine  us  as  much  as 
you  like  :  our  machinery,  our  veracity,  our  results.  We  cannot 
promise  that  you  shall  see  what  we  have  seen,  for  here  each 
man  must  adventure  for  himself;  but  we  defy  you  to  stigmatize 
our  experiences  as  impossible  or  invalid.  Is  your  world  of  ex- 
perience so  well  and  logically  founded  that  you  dare  make  of  it 
a  standard  ?  Philosophy  tells  you  that  it  is  founded  on  nothing 
better  than  the  reports  of  your  sensory  apparatus  and  the  tradi- 
tional concepts  of  the  race.  Certainly  it  is  imperfect,  probably 
it  is  illusion  ;  in  any  event,  it  never  touches  the  foundation  of 
things.  Whereas  "what  the  world,  which  truly  knows  nothing, 
calls  '  mysticism,'  is  the  science  of  ultimates  .  .  .  the  science  of 
self-evident  Reality,  which  cannot  be  c  reasoned  about,'  because 
it  is  the  object  of  pure  reason  or  perception."  1 

1  Coventry  Patmore,  "The  Rod,  the  Root,  and  the  Flower,"  "Aurea  Dicta," 
cxxviii. 


CHAPTER    II 
MYSTICISM   AND   VITALISM 

Another  philosophic  scheme  —  Vitalism,  the  "new  philosophy"  —  Driesch, 
Bergson,  Eucken — The  vital  principle  as  the  essence  of  reality — Freedom — Spon- 
taneity —  Nietzsche  —  The  inclusive  character  of  vitalistic  philosophy  :  physical, 
psychological,  spiritual — Vitalism  and  the  mystics — Heracleitus,  the  father  of  the 
new  philosophy — its  other  connections — its  central  idea — The  World  of  Becoming 
— Reality  as  dynamic — Life  as  incessant  change — Bergson's  theory  of  the  intellect 
—  of  perception  —  Its  relation  to  mysticism  —  Reality  known  by  communion  — 
Intuition — its  partial  nature  —  Rudolph  Eucken's  teaching — a  spiritual  vitalism — 
Reality  as  an  "independent  spiritual  world " — Man's  possible  attainment  of  it — he 
is  "the  meeting-point  of  various  stages  of  reality" — Rebirth — Denial  of  the  sense 
world — Eucken's  teaching  and  mysticism — Mystics  the  heroic  examples  of  "indepen- 
dent spiritual  life  " — Vitalism  criticized — its  central  idea  only  half  a  truth — The 
mystic  consciousness  of  reality  two-fold — Being  and  Becoming — Transcendence  and 
Immanence — both  true — St.  Augustine  on  the  Nature  of  God — Man's  instinct  for 
the  Absolute— Mysticism  justifies  it — reconciles  it  with  a  dynamic  universe — 
Boehme — Revelation  by  strife — Mystic  union — its  two  forms — its  agent,  the  absolute 
element  in  man — Total  mystic  experience  only  expressible  in  terms  of  personality — 
How  is  this  experience  attained  ? 

WE  glanced,  at  the  beginning  of  this  inquiry,  at  the 
universes  which  result  from  the  various  forms  of 
credulity  practised  by  the  materialist,  the  idealist, 
and  the  sceptic.  We  saw  the  mystic  denying  by  word  and 
act  the  validity  of  the  foundations  on  which  those  universes 
are  built :  substituting  his  living  experience  for  their  conceptual 
schemes. 

But  there  is  another  and  wholly  distinct  way  of  seeing 
reality — or,  more  correctly,  one  aspect  of  reality — old  as  to 
its  central  idea,  new  as  to  its  applications  of  that  idea.  This 
scheme  of  things — this  new  system,  method  or  attitude — 
possesses  the  merit  of  accepting  and  harmonizing  many 
different  forms  of  experience  ;  even  those  supreme  experiences 
and  intuitions  peculiar  to  the  mystics.      It   is  the   first   great 


MYSTICISM  AND   VITALISM  31 

contribution  of  the  twentieth  century  to  the  history  of  man's 
quest  of  reality.  A  true  "  child  of  its  time,"  it  is  everywhere 
in  the  air.  Many  who  hardly  know  its  name  have  been 
affected  by  its  spirit,  and  by  the  vague  luminous  shadow  which 
is  always  cast  before  a  coming  system  of  thought.  Almost 
insensibly,  it  has  already  penetrated  and  modified  our  attitude, 
not  only  to  philosophy,  but  to  religion,  science,  art,  and 
practical  life.  Like  the  breath  of  spring,  impossible  to  grasp 
and  difficult  to  define,  it  is  instinct  with  fresh  life  and 
fertilizes  where  it  goes.  It  has  come  upon  us  from  different 
directions  :  already  possesses  representatives  on  each  of  the 
three  great  planes  of  thought.  Driesch1  and  other  biologists 
have  applied  it  in  the  sphere  of  organic  life.  Bergson,2  starting 
from  psychology,  has  taken  its  intellectual  and  metaphysical 
aspects  in  hand.  Rudolph  Eucken3  has  developed  from,  or 
beside  it,  a  living  Philosophy  of  the  Spirit,  of  man's  relations 
to  the  Real :  the  nearest  approach,  perhaps,  which  any  modern 
thinker  has  made  to  a  constructive  mysticism. 

At  the  bottom  of  these  three  very  different  philosophies 
the  same  principle  may  be  discerned ;  the  principle,  that  is  to 
say,  of  Vitalism,  of  a  free  spontaneous  and  creative  life  as  the 
very  essence  of  the  Real.  Not  law  but  aliveness,  incalculable 
and  indomitable,  is  their  motto  :  not  human  logic,  but  actual 
living  experience,  is  their  text.  The  Vitalists,  whether  the 
sphere  of  their  explorations  be  biology,  psychology  or  ethics, 
see  the  whole  Cosmos,  the  physical  and  spiritual  worlds,  as 
instinct  with  initiative  and  spontaneity  :  as  above  all  things  free. 
For  them,  nature  is  "  on  the  dance  "  :  one  cannot  calculate  her 
acts  by  the  nice  processes  of  dialectic.  Though  she  be  con- 
ditioned by  the  matter  with  which  she  works,  her  freedom  is 
stronger  than  her  chains.  Pushing  out  from  within,  seeking 
expression,  she  buds  and  breaks  forth  into  original  creation.4 

1  "  The  Science  and  Philosophy  of  Organism,"  Giffbrd  Lectures,  1907-8. 
-  "  Les  Donnees  Immediates  de  la  Conscience  "  (1889),  "  Matiere  et  Memoire  " 
(1896*,   "  L'Evolution  Creatrice  "  (1907). 

3  "  Der  Kampf  urn  einen  geistigen  Lebensinhalt"  (1896),  "  Der  Sinn  und  Wert 
des  Lebens"  (1908),  &c.     See  Bibliography. 

4  The  researches  of  Driesch  (op.  cit.)  and  of  de  Vries  ("  The  Mutation  Theory,"  1910) 
have  done  much  to  establish  the  truth  of  this  contention  upon  the  scientific  plane.  Note 
particularly  Driesch's  account  of  the  spontaneous  responsive  changes  in  the  embryo 
sea-urchin,  and  de  Vries'  extraordinary  description  of  the  escaped  stock  of  Evening 
Primrose,  varying  now  this  way,  now  that,  "as  if  swayed  by  a  restless  internal  tide." 


32  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

The  iron  laws  of  the  determinists  are  merely  her  habits,  not 
her  fetters  :  and  man,  in  seeing  nature  in  the  terms  of  "  cause  and 
effect/'  has  been  the  dupe  of  his  own  limitations  and  prejudices. 

Bergson,  Nietzsche,  Eucken,  though  they  differ  in  their 
opinion  as  to  life's  meaning,  are  alike  in  this  vision  :  in  the 
stress  which  they  lay  on  the  supreme  importance  and  value  of 
life — a  great  Cosmic  life  transcending  and  including  our  own. 
This  is  materialism  inside  out:  for  here  what  we  call  the 
universe  is  presented  to  us  as  an  expression  of  life,  not  life  as 
an  expression  or  by-product  of  the  universe.  The  strange 
passionate  philosophy  of  Nietzsche,  that  unbalanced  John  the 
Baptist  of  the  modern  world,  is  really  built  upon  an  intense 
belief  in  this  supernal  nature  and  value  of  Life,  Action  and 
Strength  :  and  spoilt  by  the  one-sided  individualism  which  pre- 
vented him  from  holding  a  just  balance  between  the  great  and 
significant  life  of  the  Ego  and  the  greater  and  more  significant 
life  of  the  All. 

Obviously,  the  peculiar  merit  of  the  vitalistic  philosophy 
lies  in  its  ability  to  satisfy  so  many  different  thinkers,  starting 
from  such  diverse  points  in  our  common  experience.  On  the 
phenomenal  side  it  seems  able  to  accept  and  transfigure  the 
statements  of  physical  science.  In  its  metaphysical  aspect  it 
leaves  place  for  those  ontological  speculations  which  take  their 
rise  in  psychology.  It  is  friendly  to  those  who  demand  an 
important  place  for  moral  and  spiritual  activity  in  the  universe. 
Finally — though  here  we  must  be  content  with  deduction  rather 
than  declaration — it  leaves  in  the  hands  of  the  mystics  that 
unique  power  of  attaining  to  Absolute  Reality  which  they  have 
always  claimed  :  shows  them  as  the  true  possessors  of  freedom, 
the  torch-bearers  of  the  race. 

Did  it  acknowledge  its  ancestors  with  that  reverence  which 
is  their  due,  Vitalism  would  identify  itself  with  the  great  name 
of  Heracleitus ;  the  mystic  philosopher,  who,  in  the  fifth  cen- 
tury B.C.,  introduced  its  central  idea  to  the  European  world.1 
It  is — though  this  statement  might  annoy  some  of  its  inter- 
preters— both  a  Hellenic  and  a  Christian  system  of  thought :  and 
represents  the  reappearance  of  intuitions  which  have  too  long 
been  kept  in  the  hiddenness  by  the  leaders  of  the  race.    A  living 

1  The  debt  to  Heracleitus  is  acknowledged  by  Professor  Schiller.     See  "  Studies 
in  Humanism,"  pp.  39,  40. 


MYSTICISM  AND  VITALISM  33 

theologian  has  said,  that  as  in  hats  so  in  heresies,  the  very 
latest  creation  is  generally  a  revival  of  forgotten  fashions  of  the 
past.  This  law  applies  with  peculiar  force  to  systems  of 
philosophy,  which  generally  owe  more  to  the  judicious  resuscita- 
tion of  that  which  sleeps,  than  to  the  birth  of  that  which 
has  been  newly  conceived. 

I  have  said  that,  so  far  as  its  ontology  is  concerned,  this 
"  new  "  way  of  seeing  the  Real  goes  back  to  Heracleitus,  whose 
"  Logos  "  or  Energizing  Fire  is  but  another  symbol  for  that  free 
and  living  Spirit  of  Becoming,  that  indwelling  creative  power, 
which  Vitalism  acknowledges  as  the  very  soul  or  immanent 
reality  of  things.  This  eternal  and  substantial  truth  the 
Vitalists  have  picked  up,  retranslated  into  modern  terms  and 
made  available  for  modern  men.  In  its  view  of  the  proper 
function  of  the  intellect  it  has  some  unexpected  affinities  with 
Aristotle,  and  after  him  with  St.  Thomas  Aquinas  ;  regarding 
it  as  a  departmental  affair,  not — with  the  Platonists — as  the 
organ  of  ultimate  knowledge.  Its  theory  of  knowledge  is  close 
to  that  of  the  mystics  :  or  would  be,  if  those  wide-eyed  gazers 
on  reality  had  interested  themselves  in  any  psychological  theory 
of  their  own  experiences. 

A  philosophy  which  can  harmonize  such  diverse  elements  as 
these,  is  likely  to  be  useful  in  our  present  attempt  towards 
an  understanding  of  mysticism :  for  it  clearly  illustrates  certain 
aspects  of  perceived  reality  which  other  systems  ignore.  It  has 
the  further  recommendation  of  involving  not  a  mere  diagram  of 
metaphysical  possibilities,  but  a  genuine  theory  of  knowledge. 
That  is  to  say,  its  scope  includes  psychology  as  well  as 
philosophy  :  the  consideration,  not  only  of  the  nature  of  Reality 
but  also  of  the  self  s  power  of  knowing  it ;  the  machinery  of 
contact  between  the  mind  and  the  flux  of  things.  Hence  there  is 
about  it  a  wholeness,  an  inclusive  quality  very  different  from  the 
tidy  ring-fenced  systems  of  other  schools  of  thought.  It  has  no 
edges,  and  if  it  be  true  to  itself  should  have  no  negations.  It  is 
a  vision,  not  a  map. 

Now  the  primary  difference  between  Vitalism  and  the 
philosophies  which  we  have  already  considered  is  this.  Its 
Word  of  Power,  its  central  idea,  is  not  Being  but  Becoming.1 

1  See,  for  the  substance  of  this  and  the  following  pages,  the  works  of  Henri 
Bergson  already  mentioned.     I  am  here  also  enormously  indebted  to  the  personal 
D 


34  AN  INTRODUCTION   TO  MYSTICISM 

Translated  into  the  language  of  Platonic  theology,  not  the 
changeless  One,  the  Absolute,  but  His  energizing  Thought — the 
Son,  the  Creative  Logos — is  at  once  the  touchstone  of  truth,  the 
end  of  knowledge,  the  supreme  reality  which  it  proposes  as 
accessible  to  human  consciousness. 

"All  things,"  said  Heracleitus,  "are  in  a  state  of  flux." 
Everything  happens  through  strife."  (f  Reality  is  a  condition 
of  unrest."  ■  Such  is  also  the  opinion  of  Bergson  and  his 
disciples ;  who,  agreeing  in  this  with  the  champions  of  physical 
science,  look  upon  the  Real  as  dynamic  rather  than  static,  as 
becoming  rather  than  being  perfect,  and  invite  us  to  see  in  Time 
— the  precession  or  flux  of  things — the  verv  stuff  of  reality — 


From  the  fixed  lull  of  Heaven  she  saw 

Time  like  a  pulse  shake  fierce 
Through  all  the  worlds"—* 


said  Rossetti  of  the  Blessed  Damozel.  Bergson,  seeing  from 
another  standpoint,  ignores,  if  he  does  not  deny,  the  existence 
of  the  "  fixed  lull,"  the  still  Eternity,  the  point  of  rest ;  and  finds 
everywhere  the  pulse  of  Time,  the  vast  unending  storm  of  life  and 
love.  Reality,  says  Bergson,  is  pure  creative  Life ;  a  definition 
which  excludes  those  ideas  of  perfection  and  finality  involved  in 
the  idealist's  concept  of  Pure  Being  as  the  Absolute  and- Un- 
changing One.  This  life,  as  he  sees  it,  is  fed  from  within  rather 
than  upheld  from  without.  Itj  evolves  by  means  of  its  own 
inherent  and  spontaneous  creative  power.  The  biologist's 
Nature  "  so  careful  of  the  type "  ;  the  theologian's  Creator 
external  to  h.  universe,  and  "  holding  all  things  in  the  hollow 
of  His  hand  "  :  these  are  gone,  and  in  their  place  we  have  a 
universe  teeming  .with  free  individuals,  each  self-creative,  each 
evolving  eternally,  yet  towards  no  term. 

The  first  feeling  of  the  philosopher  initiated  into  this  system 
is  that  of  the  bewildered  traveller  who  "  could  not  see  the  wood 
for  trees."     The  deep  instinct  of  the  human  mind  that   there 

help  of  my  friend  Mr.  William  Scott  Palmer,  whose  lucid  interpretations  have  done 
so  much  towards  familiarizing  English  readers  with  Bergson's  philosophy  ;  and  to 
Mr.  Willdon  Carr's  paper  on  ■ '  Bergson's  Theory  of  Knowledge,"  read  before  the 
Aristotelian  Society,  December,  1908. 

1  Heracleitus,  Fragments,  46,  84.  2  First  edition,  canto  x. 


MYSTICISM  AND  VITALISM  35 

must  be  a  unity,  an  orderly  plan  in  the  universe,  that  the  strung- 
along  beads  of  experience  do  really  form  a  rosary,  though  it 
be  one  which  we  cannot  repeat,  is  here  deliberately  thwarted. 
Creation,  Activity,  Movement ;  this,  says  Vitalism,  rather  than 
any  merely  apparent  law  and  order,  any  wholeness,  is  the 
essential  quality  of  the  Real — is  the  Real :  and  life  is  an  eternal 
Becoming,  a  ceaseless  changefulness.  Boldly  adopting  that 
Hermetic  principle  of  analogy  "  Quod  i?iferius  sicut  quod 
superius" J  which  occult  and  mystical  thinkers  have  always 
loved,  it  invites  us  to  see  in  that  uninterrupted  change  which  is 
the  condition  of  our  normal  consciousness,  a  true  image,  a 
microcosm  of  the  living  universe  as  a  part  of  which  that  con- 
sciousness has  been  evolved. 

If  we  accept  this  theory,  we  must  then  impute  to  life  in  its 
fullness — the  huge,  many  levelled,  many  coloured  life,  the 
innumerable  worlds  which  escape  the  rhythm  of  our  senses ; 
not  merely  that  patch  of  physical  life  which  those  senses 
perceive — a  divinity,  a  greatness  and  splendour  of  destiny  far 
beyond  that  with  which  it  is  credited  by  those  who  hold  to  a 
physico-chemical  theory  of  the  universe.  We  must  perceive  in 
it,  as  the  mystics  have  done,  "  the  beating  of  the  Heart  of  God  "  ; 
and  agree  with  Heracleitus  that  "  there  is  but  one  wisdom,  to 
understand  the  knowledge  by  which  all  things  are  steered 
through  the  All."2 

Union  with  reality — apprehension  of  it — will  then  upon  this 
hypothesis  be  union  with  life  at  its  most  intense  point  :  in  its 
most  dynamic  aspect.  It  will  be  a  deliberate  harmony  set  up 
with  the  Logos  which  that  same  far-seeing  philosopher  described 
as  "  man's  most  constant  companion."  Ergo,  sJfi  the  mystic, 
union  with  a  Personal  and  Conscious  spiritual  existence, 
immanent  in  the  world — one  form,  one  half  of  the  union  which 
I  have  always  sought :  since  this  is  clearly  life  in  its  highest 
manifestation.  Beauty,  Goodness,  Splendour,  Love,  all  those 
words  of  glamour  which  exhilarate  the  soul,  are  but  the  man- 
made  names  of  aspects  or  qualities  picked  out  by  human 
intuition  as  characteristic  of  this  intense  and  eternal  Life  in 
which  is  the  life  of  men. 

How,  then,  may  we  know  this  Life,  this  creative  and 
original  soul  of  things,  in  which  we  are  bathed  ;  in  which,  as  in  a 
1  See  below,  Pt.  I,  Cap.  VII.  2  Heracleitus,  op.  cit. 


36  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

river,  swept  along?  Not,  says  Bergson  bluntly,  by  any  intel- 
lectual means.  The  mind  which  thinks  it  knows  Reality 
because  it  has  made  a  diagram  of  Reality,  is  merely  the  dupe  of 
its  own  categories.  The  intellect  is  a  specialized  aspect  of  the 
self,  a  form  of  consciousness :  but  specialized  for  very  different 
purposes  than  those  of  metaphysical  speculation.  Life  has 
evolved  it  in  the  interests  of  life  ;  has  made  it  capable  of  dealing 
with  "  solids,"  with  concrete  things.  With  these  it  is  at  home. 
Outside  of  them  it  becomes  dazed,  uncertain  of  itself;  for  it  is 
no  longer  doing  its  natural  work,  which  is  to  help  life,  not  to 
know  it.  In  the  interests  of  experience,  and  in  order  to  grasp 
perceptions,  the  intellect  breaks  up  experience,  which  is  in 
reality  a  continuous  stream,  an  incessant  process  of  change  and 
response  with  no  separate  parts,  into  purely  conventional 
"moments,"  "periods,"  or  psychic  "states."  It  picks  out 
from  the  flow  of  reality  those  bits  which  are  significant  for 
human  life;  which  "interest"  it,  catch  its  attention.  From 
these  it  makes  up  a  mechanical  world  in  which  it  dwells,  and 
which  seems  quite  real  until  it  is  subjected  to  criticism.  It  does, 
says  Bergson,  in  an  apt  and  already  celebrated  simile,  the  work 
of  a  cinematograph  :  takes  snapshots  of  something  which  is 
always  moving,  and  by  means  of  these  successive  static  repre- 
sentations— none  of  which  are  real,  because  Life,  the  object 
photographed,  never  was  at  rest — it  recreates  a  picture  of  life,  of 
motion.  This  picture,  this  rather  jerky  representation  of  divine 
harmony,  from  which  innumerable  moments  are  left  out,  is  very 
useful  for  practical  purposes :  but  it  is  not  reality,  because  it  is 
not  alive.1 

This  "  real  world,"  then,  is  the  result  of  your  selective  activity, 
and  the  nature  of  your  selection  is  largely  outside  your  control. 
Your  cinematograph  machine  goes  at  a  certain  pace,  takes  its 
snapshots  at  certain  intervals.  Anything  which  goes  too  quickly 
for  these  intervals,  it  either  fails  to  catch,  or  merges  with  pre- 
ceding and  succeeding  movements  to  form  a  picture  with  which 
it  can  deal.  Thus  we  treat,  for  instance,  the  storm  of  vibra- 
tions which  we  convert  into  "  sound  "  and  "  light."     Slacken  or 

1  On  the  complete  and  undivided  nature  of  our  experience  in  its  "Wholeness," 
and  the  sad  work  our  analytic  brains  make  of  it  when  they  come  to  pull  it  to  pieces, 
Bradley  has  some  valuable  contributory  remarks  in  his  "  Oxford  Lectures  on 
Poetry,"  p.  15. 


MYSTICISM   AND  VITALISM  37 

accelerate  its  clock-time,  change  its  rhythmic  activity,  and  at 
once  you  take  a  different  series  of  snapshots,  and  have  as  a 
result  a  different  picture  of  the  world.  Thanks  to  the  time  at 
which  the  normal  human  machine  is  set,  it  registers  for  us  what 
we  call,  in  our  simple  way,  "  the  natural  world."  A  slight 
accession  of  humility  or  common  sense  might  teach  us  that 
a  better  title  would  be  "  our.  natural  world." 

Now  let  human  consciousness  change  or  transcend  its 
rhythm,  and  any  other  aspect  of  any  other  world  may  be  ours 
as  a  result.  Hence  the  mystics'  claim  that  in  their  ecstasies 
they  change  the  conditions  of  consciousness,  and  apprehend  a 
deeper  reality  which  is  unrelated  to  human  speech,  cannot  be 
dismissed  as  unreasonable.  Do  not  then  confuse  that  intellect, 
that  surface-consciousness  which  man  has  trained  to  be  an  organ 
of  utility  and  nothing  more,  and  which  therefore  can  only 
deal  adequately  with  the  "  given  "  world  of  sense,  with  that 
mysterious  something  in  you — inarticulate  but  inextinguishable 
— by  which  you  are  aware  that  a  greater  truth  exists.  This 
truth,  whose  neighbourhood  you  feel,  and  for  which  you  long,  is 
Life.  You  are  in  it  all  the  while,  "  like  a  fish  in  the  sea,  like  a 
bird  in  the  air,"  as  St.  Mechthild  of  Hackborn  said  many 
centuries  ago.1 

Give  yourself,  then,  to  this  divine  and  infinite  life,  this 
mysterious  Cosmic  activity  in  which  you  are  immersed,  of 
which  you  are  born.  Trust  it.  Let  it  surge  in  on  you.  Cast 
off,  as  the  mystics  are  always  begging  you  to  do,  the  fetters  of 
the  senses,  the  "  remora  of  desire  "  ;  and  making  your  interests 
identical  with  those  of  the  All,  rise  to  freedom,  to  that  spon- 
taneous, creative,  artistic  life  which,  inherent  in  every  individual 
self,  is  our  share  of  the  life  of  the  Universe.  You  are  yourself 
vital — a  free  centre  of  energy — did  you  but  know  it.  You  can 
move  to  higher  levels,  to  greater  reality,  truer  self-fulfilment,  if 
you  will.  Though  you  be,  as  Plato  said,  like  an  oyster  in  your 
shell,  you  can  open  that  shell  to  the  living  waters  without,  draw 
from  the  "  Immortal  Vitality."  Thus  only — by  contact  with  the 
real — shall  you  know  reality.     Cor  ad  cor  loquitur. 

The  Indian  mystics  declare  substantially  the  same  truth 
when  they  say  that  the  illusion  of  finitude  is  only  to  be  escaped 
by  relapsing  into  the  substantial  and  universal  life,  abolishing 
1  "  Liber  Specialis  Gratiae,"  1.  ii.  cap.  xxvi. 


38  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

individuality.  So  too,  by  a  deliberate  self-abandonment  to  that 
which  Plato  calls  the  "  saving  madness "  of  ecstasy,  did  the 
initiates  of  Dionysus  "  draw  near  to  God."  So  their  Christian 
cousins  assert  that  "  self-surrender  "  is  the  only  way  :  that  they 
must  die  to  live,  must  lose  to  find  :  that  knowing  implies  being : 
that  the  method  and  secret  which  they  have  always  practised 
consists  merely  in  a  meek  and  loving  union — the  synthesis 
of  passion  and  self-sacrifice — with  that  divine  and  unseparated 
life,  that  larger  consciousness  in  which  the  soul  is  grounded, 
and  which  they  hold  to  be  conterminous  with  God.  In  their 
hours  of  contemplation,  they  deliberately  empty  themselves 
of  the  false  images  of  the  intellect,  neglect  the  cinematograph  of 
sense.  Then  only  are  they  capable  of  transcending  the  merely 
intellectual  levels  of  consciousness  and  perceiving  that  Reality 
which  "  hath  no  image." 

"Pilgrimage  to  the  place  of  the  wise,"  said  Jelalu  'd  Din,  "is 
to  find  escape  from  the  flame  of  separation."  It  is  the  mystics' 
secret  in  a  nutshell.  "  When  I  stand  empty  in  God's  will 
and  empty  of  God's  will  and  of  all  His  works  and  of  God 
Himself,"  cries  Eckhart  with  his  usual  violence  of  language, 
"  then  am  I  above  all  creatures  and  am  neither  God  nor 
creature,  but  I  am  what  I  was  and  evermore  shall  be."  *  He 
attains,  that  is  to  say,  by  this  escape  from  a  narrow  selfhood, 
not  to  identity  with  God — that  were  only  conceivable  upon 
a  basis  of  pantheism — but  to  an  identity  with  his  own  sub- 
stantial life,  and  through  it  with  the  life  of  a  real  and  living 
universe;  in  symbolic  language,  with  "the  thought  of  the  Divine 
Mind  "  whereby  union  with  that  Mind  in  the  essence  or  ground 
of  the  soul  becomes  possible. 

The  first  great  message  of  this  Vitalistic  philosophy,  this 
majestic  dream  of  Time  and  Motion,  is  then  seen  to  be — Cease 
to  identify  your  intellect  and  your  self:  a  primary  lesson  which 
none  who  purpose  the  study  of  mysticism  may  neglect. 
Become  at  least  aware  of,  if  you  cannot  "know,"  the  larger, 
truer  self:  that  free  creative  self  which  constitutes  your  life, 
as  distinguished  from  the  scrap  of  consciousness  which  is  its 
servant. 

How  then,  asks  the  small  consciously-seeking  personality 
of  the  normal  man,  am  I  to  become  aware  of  this,  my 
x  Meister  Eckhart,  Pred.  Ixxxvii. 


MYSTICISM   AND  VITALISM  39 

larger   self,   and    of    the   free,   eternal,   spiritual    life   which   it 
lives  ? 

Here  philosophy,  emerging  from  the  water-tight  compart- 
ment in  which  metaphysics  have  lived  too  long  retired,  calls 
in  psychology  ;  and  tells  us  that  in  intuition,  in  a  bold  reliance 
on  contact  between  the  totality  of  the  self  and  the  external 
world — perhaps  too  in  those  strange  states  of  lucidity  which 
accompany  great  emotion  and  defy  analysis — lies  the  normal 
man's  best  chance  of  attaining,  as  it  were,  a  swift  and  sidelong 
knowledge  of  this  real.  Smothered  in  daily  life  by  the  fretful 
activities  of  our  surface-mind,  reality  emerges  in  our  great 
moments  ;  and,  seeing  ourselves  in  its  radiance,  we  know,  for 
good  or  evil,  what  we  are.  "  We  are  not  pure  intellects  .  .  . 
around  our  conceptional  and  logical  thought  there  remains 
a  vague,  nebulous  Somewhat,  the  substance  at  whose  expense 
the  luminous  nucleus  we  call  the  intellect  is  formed."1 
In  this  aura,  this  diffused  sensitiveness,  we  are  asked  to 
find  man's  medium  of  communication  with  the  Universal 
Life. 

Such  partial,  dim  and  fragmentary  perceptions  of  the  Real, 
however,  such  "excursions  into  the  Absolute,"  cannot  be  looked 
upon  as  a  satisfaction  of  man's  hunger  for  Truth.  He  does 
not  want  to  peep,  but  to  live.  Hence  he  cannot  be  satisfied 
with  anything  less  than  a  total  and  permanent  adjustment 
of  his  being  to  the  greater  life  of  reality.  This  alone,  as 
Rudolph  Eucken  has  well  pointed  out,  can  resolve  the  dishar- 
monies between  the  self  and  the  world,  and  give  meaning 
and  value  to  human  life.2 

The  possibility  of  this  adjustment — of  union  between  man's 
life  and  that  "  independent  spiritual  life "  which  is  the  stuff 
of  reality — is  the  theme  alike  of  mysticism  and  of  Eucken's 
spiritual  vitalism  ;    or,  as   he   prefers  to  call  it,  his  Activistic 

1  Willdon  Carr,  op.  cit. 

2  "  It  seems  as  if  man  could  never  escape  from  himself,  and  yet,  when  shut  in  to 
the  monotony  of  his  own  sphere,  he  is  overwhelmed  with  a  sense  of  emptiness.  The 
only  remedy  here  is  radically  to  alter  the  conception  of  man  himself,  to  distinguish 
within  him  the  narrower  and  the  larger  life,  the  life  that  is  straitened  and  finite 
and  can  never  transcend  itself,  and  an  infinite  life  through  which  he  enjoys  com' 
munion  with  the  immensity  and  the  truth  of  the  universe.  Can  man  rise  to  this 
spiritual  level  ?  On  the  possibility  of  his  doing  so  rests  all  our  hope  of  supplying  any 
meaning  or  value  to  life  "  ("  Der  Sinn  und  Wert  des  Lebens,"  p.  81). 


:~ 


40  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

Philosophy.1  Reality,  says  Eucken,  is  an  independent  spiritual 
world,  unconditioned  by  the  apparent  world  of  sense.  To  know 
it  and  to  live  in  it  is  man's  true  destiny.  His  point  of  contact 
with  it  is  personality  :  the  inward  fount  of  his  being :  his  heart, 
not  his  head.  Man  is  real,  and  in  the  deepest  sense  alive,  in 
virtue  of  this  free  personal  life-principle  within  him :  but  he  is 
bound  and  blinded  by  the  ties  set  up  between  his  surface- 
intelligence  and  the  sense-world.  The  struggle  for  reality  must 
be  a  struggle  on  man's  part  to  transcend  the  sense-world,  escape 
its  bondage.  He  must  renounce  it,  and  be  "re-born"  to  a 
higher  level  of  consciousness ;  shifting  his  centre  of  interest 
from  the  natural  to  the  spiritual  plane.  According  to  the 
thoroughness  with  which  he  does  this,  will  be  the  amount 
of  real  life  he  enjoys.  The  initial  break  with  the  "  world,"  the 
refusal  to  spend  one's  life  communing  with  one's  own  cinemato- 
graph picture,  is  essential  if  the  freedom  of  the  infinite  is  to 
be  attained.  Our  life,  says  Eucken,  does  not  move  upon  a 
single  level,  but  upon  two  levels  at  once — the  natural  and 
the  spiritual.  The  key  to  the  puzzle  of  man  lies  in  the  fact 
that  he  is  "  the  meeting  point  of  various  stages  of  Reality."  2 
All  his  difficulties  and  triumphs  are  grounded  in  this.  The 
whole  question  for  him  is,  which  world  shall  be  central  for 
him — the  real,  vital,  all-embracing  life  we  call  Spirit,  or 
the  lower  life  of  sense  ?  Shall  "  Existence,"  the  superficial 
obvious  thing,  or  "  Substance,"  the  underlying  verity,  be  his 
home  ?  Shall  he  remain  the  slave  of  the  senses  with  their 
habits  and  customs,  or  rise  to  a  plane  of  consciousness,  of 
heroic  endeavour,  in  which — participating  in  the  life  of  spirit — 
he  knows  reality  because  he  is  real  ? 

The  mystics,  one  and  all,  have  answered  this  question  in 
the  same  sense  :  and,  centuries  before  the  birth  of  activistic 
philosophy,  they  have  proved  in  their  own  experience  that 
its  premises  are  true.  This  philosophic  diagram,  this  appli- 
cation of  the  vitalistic  idea  to  the  transcendental  world,  does 
in  fact   fit  the  observed  facts  of  mysticism  far   more   closely 

1  The  essentials  of  Professor  Eucken's  teaching  are  present  in  all  his  chief  works  : 
but  will  be  found  conveniently  summarized  in  "  Der  Sinn  und  Wert  des  Lebens."  I 
am  also  greatly  indebted  to  Mr.  Boyce  Gibson's  brilliant  exposition  M  Rudolph 
Eucken's  Philosophy." 

2  «'  Der  Sinn  und  Wert  des  Lebens,"  p.  121. 


MYSTICISM  AND  VITALISM  41 

even  than  it  fits  the  observed  facts  of  man's  ordinary  mental 
life. 

(i)  The  primary  break  with  the  sense- world.  (2)  The 
"  new "  birth  and  development  of  the  spiritual  consciousness 
on  high  levels — in  Eucken's  eyes  an  essential  factor  in  the 
attainment  of  reality.  (3)  That  ever  closer  and  deeper  depend- 
ence on  and  appropriation  of  the  fullness  of  the  Divine  Life ; 
the  conscious  participation  in,  and  active  union  with  the 
infinite  and  eternal.  These  three  imperatives  of  Eucken's 
system,  as  we  shall  see  later,  form  an  exact  description  of  the 
psychological  process  through  which  the  mystics  pass.  If  then 
Eucken  be  right  in  pointing  to  this  transcendence  as  the 
highest  destiny  of  the  race,  mysticism  becomes  the  crown  of 
man's  ascent  towards  Reality ;  the  orderly  completion  of  the 
universal  plan. 

The  mystics  show  us  this  independent  spiritual  life,  this 
fruition  of  the  Absolute,  enjoyed  with  a  fullness  to  which  others 
cannot  attain.  They  are  the  heroic  examples  of  the  life  of  spirit; 
just  as  the  great  artists,  the  great  discoverers,  are  the  heroic 
examples  of  the  life  of  beauty  and  the  life  of  truth.  Directly 
participating,  like  all  artists,  in  the  Divine  Life,  they  are  always 
persons  of  exuberant  vitality  :  but  this  vitality  expresses  itself  in 
unusual  forms,  hard  of  understanding  for  ordinary  men.  When 
we  see  a  picture  or  a  poem,  hear  a  musical  composition,  we 
accept  it  as  an  expression  of  life,  an  earnest  of  the  power  which 
brought  it  forth.  But  the  deep  contemplations  of  the  great 
mystic,  his  visionary  reconstructions  of  reality,  and  the  frag- 
ments of  them  which  he  is  able  to  report,  do  not  seem  to 
us — as  they  are — the  equivalents,  or  more  often  the  superiors 
of  the  artistic  and  scientific  achievements  of  other  great 
men. 

Mysticism,  then,  offers  us  the  history,  as  old  as  civilization, 
f  a  race  of  adventurers  who  have  carried  to  its  term  the  process 
of  a  deliberate  and  active  return  to  the  divine  fount  of 
things,  have  surrendered  themselves  indeed  to  the  life-movement 
of  the  universe :  hence  have  lived  with  an  intenser  life  than  other 
men  can  ever  know.  They  have  transcended  the  "  sense- world  " 
and  lived  on  high  levels  the  spiritual  life.  Therefore  they  are 
types  of  all  that  our  latent  spiritual  consciousness,  which  shows 
itself  in  the  "  hunger  for  the  Absolute,"  can  be  made  to  mean  to 


„, 


42  AN   INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

us  if  we  develop  it  ;  and  have  in  this  respect  a  unique  import- 
ance for  the  race. 

It  is  the  mystics,  too,  who  have  perfected  that  method  of 
intuition,  that  knowledge  by  union,  the  existence  of  which 
philosophy  has  been  driven  to  acknowledge.  But  where  the 
metaphysician  obtains  at  best  a  sidelong  glance  at  that  Being 
"  unchanging  yet  elusive/'  whom  he  has  so  often  defined  but 
never  discovered,  the  artist  a  brief  and  dazzling  vision  of  the 
Beauty  which  is  Truth,  they  gaze  with  confidence  into  the  very 
eyes  of  the  Beloved. 

The  mystics,  again,  declare  themselves  to  know  the  divinely 
real,  free,  and  active  "World  of  Becoming"  which  Vitalistic 
philosophy  expounds  to  us.  They  are,  by  their  very  constitu- 
tion, acutely  conscious  of  the  Divine  Immanence  and  its  unrest- 
ing travail :  it  is  in  them  and  they  are  in  it :  or,  as  they  put  it 
in  their  blunt  theological  way,  "  the  spirit  of  God  is  within  you." 
But  they  are  not  satisfied  with  this  statement  and  this  know- 
ledge ;  and  here  it  is  that  they  part  company  with  the  Vitalists. 
It  is,  they  think,  but  half  a  truth.  To  know  Reality  in  this 
way,  to  know  it  in  its  dynamic  aspect,  enter  into  "  the  great 
life  of  the  All "  :  this  is  indeed,  in  the  last  resort,  to  know  it 
supremely  from  the  point  of  view  of  man — to  liberate  from 
selfhood  the  human  consciousness — but  it  is  not  to  know  it 
from  the  point  of  view  of  God.  There  are  planes  of  being 
beyond  this  ;  countries  dark  to  the  intellect,  deeps  in  which 
only  the  very  greatest  contemplatives  have  looked.  These, 
coming  forth,  have  declared  with  Ruysbroeck  that  "God  accord- 
ing to  the  Persons  is  Eternal  Work,  but  according  to  the 
Essence  and  Its  perpetual  stillness  He  is  Eternal  Rest."1 

The  full  spiritual  consciousness  of  the  true  mystic  is 
developed  not  in  one,  but  in  two  apparently  opposite  but 
really  complementary  directions  : — 

"  .   .  .  io  vidi 
Ambo  le  corte  del  del  manifeste."  3 

On  the  one  hand  he  is  intensely  aware  of,  and  knows 
himself  to  be  at  one  with  that  active  World  of  Becoming, 
that  deep    and    primal   life   of  the    All,    from   which  his  own 

*  "  De  Septem  Gradibus  Amoris,"  cap.  xiv.  2  Par.  xxx.  95. 


MYSTICISM  AND  VITALISM  43 

life  takes  its  rise.  Hence,  though  he  has  broken  for  ever 
with  the  bondage  of  the  senses,  he  perceives  in  every  mani- 
festation of  life  a  sacramental  meaning  ;  a  loveliness,  a 
wonder,  a  heightened  significance,  which  is  hidden  from  other 
men.  He  may,  with  St.  Francis,  call  the  Sun  and  the  Moon, 
Water  and  Fire,  his  brothers  and  his  sisters  :  or  receive,  with 
Blake,  the  message  of  the  trees.  Because  of  his  cultivation 
of  disinterested  love,  because  his  outlook  is  not  conditioned  by 
"  the  exclusive  action  of  the  will-to-live,"  he  has  attained  the 
power  of  communion  with  the  living  reality  of  the  universe  ; 
and  in  this  respect  can  truly  say  that  he  finds  "  God  in  all  and 
all  in  God."  Thus,  the  skilled  spiritual  vision  of  Lady  Julian, 
transcending  the  limitations  of  human  perception,  entering  into 
harmony  with  a  larger  world  whose  rhythms  cannot  be  received 
by  common  men,  saw  the  all-enfolding  Divine  Life,  the  mesh  of 
reality.  "  For  as  the  body  is  clad  in  the  cloth,"  she  said,  "  and 
the  flesh  in  the  skin  and  the  bones  in  the  flesh  and  the  heart  in 
the  whole,  so  are  we,  soul  and  body,  clad  in  the  Goodness  of 
God  and  enclosed.  Yea,  and  more  homely  :  for  all  these  may 
waste  and  wear  away,  but  the  Goodness  of  God  is  ever  whole."  * 
Many  mystical  poets  and  pantheistic  mystics  never  pass  beyond 
this  degree  of  lucidity. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  full  mystic  consciousness  also  attains 
to  what  is,  I  think,  its  really  characteristic  quality.  It  develops 
the  power  of  apprehending  the  Absolute,  Pure  Being,  the 
utterly  Transcendent  :  or,  as  its  possessor  would  say,  can  rise 
to  "passive  union  with  God."  This  all-round  expansion  of 
consciousness,  with  its  dual  power  of  knowing  by  communion 
the  temporal  and  eternal,  immanent  and  transcendent  aspects 
of  reality — the  life  of  the  All,  vivid,  flowing  and  changing,  and 
the  changeless,  conditionless  life  of  the  One — is  the  peculiar 
mark,  the  ultimo  sigillo  of  the  great  mystic,  and  must  never  be 
forgotten  in  studying  his  life  and  work. 

As  the  ordinary  man  is  the  meeting-place  between  two 
stages  of  reality — the  sense-world  and  the  world  of  spiritual  life 
— so  the  mystic,  standing  head  and  shoulders  above  ordinary 
men,  is  again  the  meeting-place  between  two  orders.  Or,  if  you 
like  it  better,  he  is  able  to  perceive  and  react  to  reality  under 
two  modes.  On  the  one  hand  he  knows,  and  rests  in,  the 
*  «•  Revelations  of  Divine  Love,"  cap.  vi. 


44  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

eternal  world  of  Pure  Being,  the  "  Sea  Pacific  "  of  the  Godhead, 
indubitably  present  to  him  in  his  ecstasies,  attained  by  him 
in  the  union  of  love.  On  the  other,  he  knows — and  works  in — 
that  "  stormy  sea,"  the  vital  World  of  Becoming  which  is  the 
expression  of  Its  will.  "  Illuminated  men,"  says  Ruysbroeck, 
\  are  caught  up,  above  the  reason,  into  naked  vision.  There 
the  Divine  Unity  dwells  and  calls  them.  Hence  their  bare 
vision,  cleansed  and  free,  penetrates  the  activity  of  all  created 
things,  and  pursues  it  to  search  it  out  even  to  its  height."  x 

Though  philosophy  has  striven  since  thought  began — and 
striven  in  vain — to  resolve  the  paradox  of  Being  and  Becoming, 
of  Eternity  and  Time,  she  has  failed  strangely  enough  to 
perceive  that  a  certain  type  of  personality  has  substituted 
experience  for  her  guesses  at  truth,  and  achieved  its  solution, 
not  by  the  dubious  processes  of  thought,  but  by  direct  percep- 
tion. To  the  great  mystic  the  "problem  of  the  Absolute" 
presents  itself  in  terms  of  life,  not  in  terms  of  dialectic.  He 
solves  it  in  terms  of  life  :  by  a  change  or  growth  of  conscious- 
ness which — thanks  to  his  peculiar  genius — enables  him  to 
apprehend  that  two-fold  Vision  of  Reality  which  eludes  the 
perceptive  powers  of  other  men.  It  is  extraordinary  that  this 
fact  of  experience — a  central  fact  for  the  understanding  of  the 
contemplative  type — has  hitherto  received  no  attention  from 
writers  upon  mysticism.  As  we  proceed  with  our  inquiry,  its 
importance,  its  far-reaching  applications  in  the  domains  of 
psychology,  of  theology,  of  action,  will  become  more  and  more 
evident.  It  provides  the  reason  why  the  mystics  could  never 
accept  the  diagram  of  the  Vitalists  as  a  complete  statement  of 
the  nature  of  Reality.  "  Whatever  be  the  limits  of  your  know- 
ledge, we  know" — they  would  say — "that  the  world  has  another 
aspect  than  this  :  the  aspect  which  is  present  to  the  Mind  of 
God."  "  Tranquillity  according  to  His  essence,  activity  accord- 
ing to  His  nature  :  perfect  stillness,  perfect  fecundity,"  2  says 
Ruysbroeck  again,  this  is  the  two-fold  character  of  the  Absolute. 
That  which  to  us  is  action,  to  Him,  they  declare,  is  rest,  "  His 
very  peace  and  stillness  coming  from  the  brimming  fullness  of 
His  infinite  life."  3    That  which  to  us  is  Many,  to  that  Transcen- 

x  Ruysbroeck,  "Samuel"  (Hello,  p.  201). 

2  Ibid.,  "  De  Vera  Contemplatione  "  (Hello,  p.  175). 

3  Von  Hllgel,  u  The  Mystical  Element  of  Religion,"  vol.  ii.  p.  1 32. 


MYSTICISM  AND  VITALISM  45 

dent  Knovver  is  One.  Our  World  of  Becoming  rests  on  the 
bosom  of  that  Pure  Being  which  has  ever  been  the  final  Object 
of  man's  quest  :  the  "  river  in  which  we  cannot  bathe  twice  "  is 
the  stormy  flood  of  life  flowing  toward  that  divine  sea.  "  How 
glorious,"  says  the  Voice  of  the  Eternal  to  St.  Catherine  of 
Siena, "  is  that  soul  which  has  indeed  been  able  to  pass  from  the 
stormy  ocean  to  Me,  the  Sea  Pacific,  and  in  that  Sea,  which 
is  Myself,  to  fill  the  pitcher  of  her  heart."  " 

The  evolution  of  the  mystic  consciousness,  then,  brings  its 
possessors  to  this  transcendent  point  of  view  :  their  secret  is 
this  unity  in  diversity,  this  stillness  in  strife.  Here  they  are  in 
harmony  with  Heracleitus  rather  than  with  his  new  interpreters. 
That  most  mystical  of  philosophers  discerned  a  hidden  unity 
beneath  the  battle,  transcending  all  created  opposites  ;  and, 
in  the  true  mystical  spirit,  taught  his  disciples  that  "  Having 
hearkened  not  unto  me  but  unto  the  Logos,  it  is  wise  to  confess 
that  all  things  are  one."*  This  is  the  secret  at  which  the 
idealists'  arid  concept  of  Pure  Being  has  tried,  so  timidly,  to 
hint  :  and  which  the  Vitalists'  more  intimate,  more  actual 
concept  of  Becoming  has  tried,  so  unnecessarily,  to  destroy. 
We  shall  see  the  glorious  raiment  in  which  the  Christian 
mystics  deck  it  when  we  come  to  consider  their  theological  map 
of  the  quest. 

If  it  be  objected — and  this  objection  has  been  made  by 
advocates  of  each  school  of  thought — that  the  existence  of  the 
idealists'  and  mystics'  "  Absolute  "  is  utterly  inconsistent  with 
the  deeply  alive,  striving  spiritual  life  which  the  Vitalists 
identify  with  reality,  I  reply  that  both  these  concepts  at  bottom 
are  but  symbols  of  realities  which  the  human  mind  can  never 
reach  :  and  that  the  idea  of  stillness,  unity  and  peace  is  and 
has  ever  been  humanity's  best  translation  of  its  final  intuitive 
perception  of  God.  " '  In  the  midst  of  silence  a  hidden  word  was 
spoken  to  me.'  Where  is  this  Silence,  and  where  is  the  place 
in  which  this  word  is  spoken  ?  It  is  in  the  purest  that  the  soul 
can  produce,  in  her  noblest  part,  in  the  Ground,  even  the  Being 
of  the  Soul." 3  So  Eckhart :  and  here  he  does  but  subscribe  to  a 
universal  tradition.     The  mystics  have  always  insisted  that  "  Be 

1  St.  Catherine  of  Siena,  Dialogo,  cap.  lxxxix. 

a  Heracleitus,  op.  cit. 

3  Meister  Eckhart,  Pred.  i. 


46  AN   INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

still,  be  still,  and  know"  is  the  condition  of  man's  purest  and 
most  direct  apprehensions  of  reality  :  that  somehow  quiet  is  the 
truest  and  deepest  activity  :  and  Christianity  when  she  formu- 
lated her  philosophy  made  haste  to  adopt  and  express  this 
paradox. 

"Quid  es  ergo,  Dens  meus?"  said  St.  Augustine,  and  gave 
an  answer  in  which  the  vision  of  the  mystic,  the  genius  of  the 
philosopher  combined  to  hint  something  at  least  of  the  flaming 
heart  of  reality,  the  paradox  of  the  intimacy  and  majesty  of  that 
all-embracing,  all-transcending  One.  "  Summe,  optime,  poten- 
tissime,  omnipotentissime,  misericordissime,  et  justissime,  secre- 
tissime  et  presentissime,  pulcherrime  et  fortissime ;  stabilis  et 
incomprehensibilis ;  immutabilis,  mutans  omnia  :  Numquam 
novus,  nunquam  vetus.  .  .  .  Semper  agens,  semper  quietus : 
colligens  et  non  egens :  portans  et  implens  et  protegens ;  creans 
et  nutriens  et  perficiens :  quaerens  cum  nihil  desit  tibi.  .  .  . 
Quid  dicimus,  Deus  meus,  vita  mea,  dulcedo  mea  sancta?  Aut 
quid  dicit  aliquis,  cum  de  te  dicit?" x 

It  has  been  said  that  "Whatever  we  may  do,  our  hunger 
for  the  Absolute  will  never  cease."  The  hunger — that  innate 
craving  for,  and  intuition  of,  a  final  Unity,  a  changeless  good — 
will  go  on,  however  heartily  we  may  feed  on  those  fashionable 
systems  which  offer  us  a  pluralistic  or  empirical  universe.  If, 
now,  we  admit  in  all  living  creatures — as  Vitalists  must  do — an 
instinct  of  self-preservation,  a  free  directive  force  which  may  be 
trusted  and  which  makes  for  life ;  is  it  just  to  deny  such  an 
instinct  to  the  human  soul?  The  "entelechy"  of  the  Vitalists, 
the  "  hidden  steersman,"  drives  the  phenomenal  world  on  and 
up.  What  about  that  other  sure  instinct  embedded  in  the  race, 
breaking  out  again  and  again,  which  drives  the  spirit  on  and  up  ; 
spurs  it  eternally  towards  an  end  which  it  feels  to  be  definite 

*  Aug.  Conf.,  bk.  i.  cap.  iv.  "What  art  Thou,  then,  my  God?  .  .  .  Highest, 
best,  most  potent  [i.e.,  dynamic],  most  omnipotent  [i.e.,  transcendent],  most  merciful 
and  most  just,  most  deeply  hid  and  yet  most  near.  Fairest,  yet  strongest :  steadfast, 
yet  unseizable  ;  unchangeable  yet  changing  all  things  ;  never  new,  yet  never  old.  .  .  . 
Ever  busy,  yet  ever  at  rest ;  gathering  yet  needing  not :  bearing,  filling,  guarding ; 
creating,  nourishing  and  perfecting;  seeking  though  Thou  hast  no  wants.  .  .  . 
What  can  I  say,  my  God,  my  life,  my  holy  joy  ?  or  what  can  any  say  who  speaks  of 
Thee?"  Compare  the  strikingly  similar  Sufi  definition  of  the  Nature  of  God,  as 
given  in  Palmer's  "Oriental  Mysticism,"  pp.  22,  23.  "First  and  last,  End  and 
Limit  of  all  things,  incomparable  and  unchangeable,  always  near  yet  always  far,"  &c. 


MYSTICISM  AND  VITALISM  47 

yet  cannot  define?  Shall  we  distrust  this  instinct  for  the 
Absolute,  as  living  and  ineradicable  as  any  other  of  our  powers, 
merely  because  the  new  philosophy  finds  it  difficult  to  accom- 
modate and  to  describe  ? 

"We  must,"  says  Plato  in  the  "  Timseus,"  "  make  a  distinction 
of  the  two  great  forms  of  being,  and  ask,  '  What  is  that  which 
Is  and  has  no  Becoming,  and  what  is  that  which  is  always 
becoming  and  never  Is  ? '  "  z  Without  necessarily  subscribing 
to  the  Platonic  answer  to  this  question,  I  think  we  may  at  any 
rate  acknowledge  that  the  question  itself  is  sound  and  worth 
asking  ;  that  it  expresses  a  perennial  demand  of  human  nature  : 
and  that  the  analogy  of  man's  other  instincts  and  cravings  assures 
us  that  these  his  fundamental  demands  always  indicate  the 
existence  of  a  supply.2  The  great  defect  of  Vitalism,  considered 
as  a  system,  is  that  it  only  professes  to  answer  half  of  it ;  the 
half  which  Absolute  Idealism  disdained  to  answer  at  all. 

We  have  seen  that  the  mystical  experience,  the  fullest  all- 
round  experience  in  regard  to  the  transcendental  world  which 
is  attainable  by  humanity,  declares  to  us  that  there  are  two 
aspects,  two  planes  of  discoverable  Reality.  We  have  seen  also 
that  hints  of  these  two  planes — often  clear  statements  concern- 
ing them — abound  in  mystical  literature  of  the  personal  first- 
hand type.3  Pure  Being,  says  Boutroux  in  the  course  of  his 
exposition  of  Boehme,4  has  two  characteristic  manifestations. 
It  shows  itself  to  us  as  Power,  by  means  of  strife,  of  the 
struggle  and  opposition  of  its  own  qualities.  But  it  shows 
itself  to  us  as  Reality,  in  harmonizing  and  reconciling  within 
itself  these  discordant  opposites. 

Its  manifestation  as  Power,  then,  is  for  us  in  the  dynamic 
World  of  Becoming,  amidst  the  thud  and  surge  of  that  life  which 
is  compounded  of  paradox,  of  good  and  evil,  joy  and  sorrow, 
life  and  death.  Here,  Boehme  declares  that  the  Absolute  God 
is  voluntarily  self-revealing.     But   each   revelation   has   as   its 

1  Timaeus,  §  27. 

2  "A  natural  craving,"  said  Aquinas,  "cannot  be  in  vain";  and  the  newest 
philosophy  is  creeping  back  to  this  "mediaeval  "  point  of  view.  Compare  M  Summa 
Contra  Gentiles,"  1.  ii.  cap.  lxxix. 

3  Compare  Dante's  vision  in  Par.  xxx.,  where  he  sees  Reality  first  as  the 
streaming  River  of  Light,  the  flux  of  things ;  and  then,  when  his  sight  has  been 
purged,  as  achieved  Perfection,  the  Sempiternal  Rose. 

4  E.  Boutroux,  "  Le  Philosophe  Allemand,  Jacob  Boehme,"  p.  18. 


48  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

condition  the  appearance  of  its  opposite :  light  can  only  be 
recognized  at  the  price  of  knowing  darkness,  life  needs  death 
love  needs  wrath.  Hence  if  Pure  Being — the  Good,  Beautiful 
and  True — is  to  reveal  itself,  it  must  do  so  by  evoking  and 
opposing  its  contrary :  as  in  the  Hegelian  dialectic  no  idea  is 
complete  without  its  negative.  Such  a  revelation  by  strife, 
however,  is  rightly  felt  by  man  to  be  incomplete.  Absolute 
Reality,  the  Player  whose  sublime  music  is  expressed  at  the 
cost  of  this  everlasting  friction  between  bow  and  lyre,  is  present, 
it  is  true,  in  His  music.  But  He  is  best  known  in  that  "  light 
behind,"  that  unity  where  all  these  opposites  are  lifted  up  into 
harmony,  into  a  higher  synthesis  :  and  the  melody  is  perceived, 
not  as  a  difficult  progress  of  sound,  but  as  a  whole. 

We  have,  then,  {a)  The  Absolute  Reality  which  the  Greeks, 
and  every  one  after  them,  meant  by  that  seemingly  chill 
abstraction  which  they  called  Pure  Being :  that  Absolute  One, 
unconditioned  and  undiscoverable,  in  Whom  all  is  resumed. 
Changeless,  yet  changer  of  all,  this  One  is  the  undifferentiated 
Godhead  of  Eckhart,  the  Transcendent  Father  of  ordinary 
Christian  theology.  It  is  the  great  contribution  of  the  mystics 
to  humanity's  knowledge  of  the  real  that  they  find  in  this 
Absolute,  in  defiance  of  the  metaphysicians,  a  personal  object 
of  love,  the  goal  of  their  quest,  the  "  Country  of  the  Soul." 

(b)  But,  contradicting  the  nihilism  of  Eastern  contempla- 
tives,  they  see  also  a  reality  in  the  dynamic  side  of  things :  in 
the  seething  pot  of  appearance.  They  are  aware  of  an  eternal 
Becoming,  a  striving,  free,  evolving  life,  not  merely  as  a 
shadow-show,  but  as  an  implicit  of  their  Cosmos :  God's  mani- 
festation or  showing,  in  which  He  is  immanent,  in  which  His 
Spirit  truly  works  and  strives.  It  is  in  this  plane  of  reality 
that  all  individual  life  is  immersed  :  this  is  the  stream  which  set 
out  from  the  Heart  of  God  and  "  turns  again  home." 

The  mystic  knows  his  task  to  be  the  attainment  of  Being, 
union  with  the  One,  the  "  return  to  the  Father's  heart " :  for  the 
parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son  is  to  him  the  history  of  the 
universe.  This  union  is  to  be  attained,  first  by  co-operation  in 
that  Life  which  bears  him  up,  in  which  he  is  immersed.  He 
must  become  conscious  of  this  "  great  life  of  the  All,"  merge 
himself  in  it,  if  he  would  find  his  way  back  whence  he  came. 
Vae  solL     Hence  there  are  really  two  separate  acts  of  "  divine 


MYSTICISM  AND  VITALISM  49 

union,"  two  separate  kinds  of  illumination  involved  in  the 
Mystic  Way :  the  dual  character  of  the  spiritual  consciousness 
brings  a  dual  responsibility  in  its  train.  First,  there  is  the 
union  with  Life,  with  the  World  of  Becoming:  and  parallel  with 
it  the  illumination  by  which  the  mystic  "gazes  upon  a  more 
veritable  world."  Secondly,  there  is  the  union  with  Being,  with 
the  One :  and  that  final,  ineffable  illumination  of  pure  love 
which  is  called  the  "  knowledge  of  God."  It  is  by  means  of  the 
abnormal  development  of  the  third  factor,  the  free,  creative 
*  Spirit,"  the  scrap  of  Absolute  Life  which  is  the  ground  of  his 
soul,  that  the  mystic  can  (a)  conceive  and  (J?)  accomplish  these 
transcendent  acts.  Only  Being  can  know  Being :  we  "  behold 
that  which  we  are,  and  are  that  which  we  behold."  But  there 
is  a  spark  in  man's  soul,  say  the  mystics,  which  is  real — which 
in  fact  is — and  by  its  cultivation  we  may  know  reality. 

Over  and  over  again — as  Being  and  Becoming,  as  Eternity 
and  Time,  as  Transcendence  and  Immanence,  Reality  and 
Appearance,  the  One  and  the  Many — these  two  dominant 
ideas,  demands,  imperious  instincts  of  man's  self  will  reappear ; 
the  warp  and  woof  of  his  completed  universe.  On  the  one 
hand  is  his  ineradicable  intuition  of  a  remote,  unchanging 
Somewhat  calling  him  :  on  the  other  there  is  his  longing  for  and 
as  clear  intuition  of  an  intimate,  adorable  Somewhat,  companion- 
ing him.  Man's  true  Real,  his  only  adequate  God,  must  be 
great  enough  to  embrace  this  sublime  paradox,  to  take  up  these 
apparent  negations  into  a  higher  synthesis.  Neither  the  utter 
transcendence  of  extreme  Absolutism,  nor  the  utter  immanence 
of  the  Vitalists  will  do.  Both  these,  taken  alone,  are  declared 
by  the  mystics  to  be  incomplete.  They  conceive  that  Absolute 
Being  who  is  the  goal  of  their  quest  as  manifesting  Himself  in 
a  World  of  Becoming  :  agonizing  in  it,  at  one  with  it,  yet  though 
semper  agens,  also  semper  quietus.  The  Divine  spirit  which  they 
know  to  be  immanent  in  the  heart  and  in  the  universe  comes 
forth  from  and  returns  to  the  Transcendent  One ;  and  this 
division  of  persons  in  unity  of  substance  completes  the  "  Eternal 
Circle,  from  Goodness,  through  Goodness,  to  Goodness." 

Absolute  Being  and  Becoming,  the  All  and  the  One,  are 
found  to  be  alike  inadequate  to  their  definition  of  this  discovered 
Real ;  the  "  triple  star  of  Goodness,  Truth,  and  Beauty."  Speak- 
ing always   from  experience — the   most   complete  experience 


50  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

that  is  possible  to  man — they  describe  to  us  an  Absolute  which 
overpasses  and  includes  the  Absolute  of  philosophy,  far 
transcends  that  Cosmic  life  which  it  fills  and  sustains,  and 
is  best  defined  in  terms  of  Transcendent  Personality ;  which 
because  of  its  richness  and  of  the  poverty  of  human  speech, 
they  have  sometimes  been  driven  to  define  only  by  negations. 
At  once  static  and  dynamic,  above  life  and  in  it,  "  all  love  yet 
all  law,"  eternal  in  essence  though  working  in  time,  this  vision 
resolves  the  contraries  which  tease  those  who  study  it  from 
without,  and  swallows  up  whilst  it  kindles  to  life  all  the  partial 
interpretations  of  metaphysics  and  of  science. 

Here  then  stands  the  mystic.  By  the  help  of  two  philo- 
sophies, eked  out  by  the  resources  of  symbolic  expression,  he 
has  contrived  to  tell  us  something  of  his  vision  and  his  claim. 
Confronted  by  that  vision — that  sublime  reconstruction  of 
eternity — we  may  surely  ask,  indeed,  are  bound  to  ask,  What 
is  the  machinery  by  which  this  self,  akin  to  the  imprisoned 
and  sense-fed  self  of  our  daily  experience,  has  contrived  to  slip 
its  fetters  and  rise  to  those  levels  of  spiritual  perception  on 
which  alone  such  vision  can  be  possible  to  man  ?  How  has  it 
brought  within  the  field  of  consciousness  those  deep  intuitions 
which  fringe  upon  Absolute  Life  ;  how  developed  powers  by 
which  it  is  enabled  to  arrive  at  this  amazing,  this  superhuman 
concept  of  the  nature  of  Reality?  Psychology  will  do  some- 
thing, perhaps,  to  help  us  to  an  answer  to  this  question  ;  and  it  is 
her  evidence  which  we  must  examine  next.  But  its  final 
solution  is  the  secret  of  the  mystics  ;  and  they  reply  to  our 
questioning,  when  we  ask  them,  in  the  direct  and  uncom- 
promising terms  of  action,  not  in  the  refined  and  elusive  periods 
of  speculative  thought. 

"  Come  with  us,"  they  say  to  the  bewildered  and  entangled 
self,  craving  for  finality  and  peace, "  and  we  will  show  you  a  way 
out  that  shall  not  only  be  a*i  issue  from  your  prison  but  also  a 
pathway  to  your  Home.  True,  you  are  immersed,  fold  upon 
fold,  in  the  World  of  Becoming  ;  worse,  you  are  besieged  on  all 
sides  by  the  persistent  illusions  of  sense.  But  you  too  are  a 
child  of  the  Absolute.  You  bear  within  you  the  earnest  of  your 
inheritance. /At  the  apex  of  your  spirit  there  is  a  little  door,  so 
high  up  that  only  by  hard  climbing  can  you  reach  it.  There 
the  Object  of  your  craving  stands  and  knocks  ;   thence  came 


MYSTICISM  AND  VITALISM  51 

those  persistent  messages — faint  echoes  from  the  Truth  eternally 
hammering  at  your  gates — which  disturbed  the  comfortable  life 
of  sense.  Come  up  then  by  this  pathway,  to  those  higher  levels 
of  reality  to  which,  in  virtue  of  the  eternal  spark  in  you,  you 
belong.  Leave  your  ignoble  ease :  your  clever  prattle  :  your 
absurd  attempts  to  solve  the  apparent  contradictions  of  a  Whole 
too  great  for  your  useful  little  mind  to  grasp.  Trust  your  deep 
instincts  :  use  your  latent  powers.  Appropriate  that  divine, 
creative  life  which  is  the  very  substance  of  your  being.  Remake 
yourself  in  its  interest,  if  you  would  know  its  beauty  and  its 
truth.  You  can  only  behold  that  which  you  are.  Only  the  Real 
can  know  Reality." 


CHAPTER   III 
MYSTICISM  AND  PSYCHOLOGY 

Man's  craving  to  know  more  and  love  more — His  mental  machinery — Emotion, 
Intellect,  Will — Their  demand  of  absolute  objects— Conation  and  Cognition— Action 
and  Thought — Importance  of  emotion— Love  and  Will — Concentration — Contempla- 
tion— The  mystic  sense — its  liberation — Passivity — The  Mystic  State — Supraliminal 
and  subliminal  personality — The  "  ground  of  the  soul  " — The  "subconscious  mind  " 
— extravagances  of  this  doctrine — The  subconscious  not  the  equivalent  of  the 
transcendental  self— Mystical  theory  of  man's  spiritual  sense — The  New  Birth — The 
Spiritual  Self— Synteresis — The  Spark  of  the  Soul — the  organ  of  transcendental 
consciousness — Transcendental  Feeling— its  expression — The  Spark  of  the  Soul  sleeps 
in  normal  men — The  mystic's  business  is  to  wake  it — Function  of  contemplation — it 
alters  the  field  of  consciousness— Dual  personality — The  hidden  self  of  the  Mystic — 
its  emergence — Entrancement — Mystical  ill-health — Psycho-physical  phenomena — 
Mysticism  and  hysteria— Mysticism  and  longevity — The  mystics'  psychic  peculiarities 
— their  wholeness  of  life — Genius  and  mysticism  compared — Philo  on  inspiration — 
The  function  of  passivity — Automatic  states — Summary  and  conclusion 

WE  come  now  to  consider  the  mental  apparatus  which 
is  at  the  disposal  of  the  self:  to  ask  what  it  can  tell 
us  of  the  method  by  which  she  can  escape  from  the 
prison  of  the  sense-world,  transcend  its  rhythm,  and  attain  know- 
ledge of — or  conscious  contact  with — Reality.  We  have  seen 
the  normal  self  close  shut  within  the  prison  of  the  senses,  and 
making,  by  the  help  of  science  and  of  philosophy,  a  survey  of  the 
premises  and  furniture :  testing  the  thickness  of  the  walls  and 
speculating  on  the  possibility  of  trustworthy  news  from  without 
penetrating  to  her  cell.  Shut  with  her  in  that  cell,  two  forces, 
the  desire  to  know  more  and  the  desire  to  love  more,  are  cease- 
lessly at  work.  Where  the  first  of  these  cravings  predominates, 
we  call  the  result  a  philosophical  or  a  scientific  temperament; 
where  it  is  overpowered  by  the  ardour  of  unsatisfied  love,  the 
selfs  reaction  upon  things  becomes  poetic,  artististic,  and 
characteristically — though  not  always  explicitly — religious. 
We  have  seen  further  that  a  certain    number    of   persons 

52 


MYSTICISM  AND   PSYCHOLOGY  53 

declare  that  they  have  escaped  from  this  prison.  Have  they 
done  so,  it  can  only  be  in  order  to  satisfy  these  two  hungry 
desires,  for  these,  and  these  only,  make  that  a  prison  which 
might  otherwise  be  a  comfortable  hotel ;  and  since  these  desires 
are  in  all  of  us,  active  or  latent  in  varying  degrees,  it  is  clearly 
worth  while  to  discover,  if  we  can,  the  weak  point  in  the  walls, 
and  that  method  of  attack  which  is  calculated  to  take  advantage 
of  this  one  possible  way  of  escape. 

Before  we  attempt  to  define  in  psychological  language  the 
way  in  which  the  mystic  slips  the  fetters  of  sense,  sets  out  upon 
his  journey  towards  home,  it  seems  desirable  to  examine  the 
machinery  which  is  at  the  disposal  of  the  normal,  conscious 
self:  the  creature,  or  part  of  a  creature,  which  we  recognize 
as  "  ourselves."  Psychologists  are  accustomed  to  tell  us  that 
the  messages  from  without  awaken  in  that  self  three  main 
forms  of  activity,  (i)  They  arouse  in  her  movements  of  attrac- 
tion or  repulsion,  of  desire  or  distaste,  which  vary  in  intensity 
from  the  semi-conscious  cravings  of  the  hungry  infant  to  the 
passions  of  the  lover,  artist,  or  fanatic.  (2)  They  stimulate  in 
her  a  sort  of  digestive  process  in  which  she  combines  and 
cogitates  upon  the  material  presented  to  her  ;  finally  absorbing 
a  certain  number  of  the  resulting  concepts  and  making  them 
part  of  herself  or  of  her  world.  (3)  The  movements  of  desire, 
or  the  action  of  reason,  or  both  in  varying  combinations,  awaken 
in  her  a  determination  by  which  percept  and  concept  issue  in 
action ;  bodily,  mental,  or  spiritual. 

Hence  we  say  that  the  main  aspects  of  the  self  are  Emotion, 
Intellect,  and  Will :  and  that  the  nature  of  the  individual  is 
emotional,  intellectual,  or  volitional,  according  to  whether  feel- 
ing, thought,  or  will  assumes  the  reins. 

Thanks  to  the  watertight-compartment  system  of  popular 
psychology,  we  are  apt  to  personify  these  qualities  ;  thinking  of 
them  as  sitting,  like  Clotho,  Lachesis,  and  Atropos,  within  the 
mind,  and  spinning  the  flax  of  experience  into  the  thread  of  life. 
But  these  three  words  do  not  define  three  separate  and  mutually 
exclusive  things ;  rather  a  Trinity  in  Unity,  three  aspects, 
methods,  or  moments  of  the  same  thing — the  conscious  self's 
reaction  on  her  universe.1 

1  There  is  a  tendency  on  the  part  of  J;he  younger  psychologists  to  rebel  against 
this  traditional  diagram.     Thus  Godfernaux  says  {Revue  Philosophique,  September, 


54  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

Now  the  unsatisfied  self  in  her  emotional  aspect  wants,  as 
we  have  said,  to  love  more  ;  her  curious  intellect  wants  to  know 
more.  Both  appetites  are  aware  that  they  are  being  kept  on  a 
low  diet ;  that  there  really  is  more  to  love,  and  more  to  know, 
somewhere  in  the  mysterious  world  without.  They  know,  too, 
that  their  own  powers  of  affection  and  understanding  are  worthy 
of  some  greater  and  more  durable  objective  than  that  provided 
by  the  illusions  of  sense.  Urged  therefore  by  the  cravings  of 
feeling  or  of  thought,  consciousness  is  always  trying  to  run  out 
to  the  encounter  of  the  Absolute,  and  always  being  forced  to 
return.  The  neat  philosophical  system,  the  diagrams  of  science, 
the  "  sunset-touch,"  are  tried  in  turn.  Art  and  life,  the  accidents 
of  our  humanity,  all  foster  an  emotional  outlook  ;  till  the 
moment  in  which  the  neglected  intellect  arises  and  pronounces 
such  an  outlook  to  have  no  validity.  Metaphysics  and  science 
seem  to  offer  to  the  intellect  an  open  window  towards  truth ; 
till  the  heart  looks  out  and  declares  this  landscape  to  be  a  chill 
desert  in  which  she  can  find  no  nourishment.  These  diverse 
aspects  of  things  must  be  either  fused  or  transcended  if  the 
whole  self  is  to  be  satisfied  ;  for  the  reality  which  she  seeks  has 
got  to  meet  both  claims  and  pay  in  full. 

When  Dionysius  the  Areopagite  divided  those  angels  who 
stand  nearest  God  into  the  Seraphs  who  are  aflame  with  perfect 
love,  and  the  Cherubs  who  are  filled  with  perfect  knowledge,  he 
only  gave  expression  to  the  two  most  intense  aspirations  of  the 
human  soul,  and  described  under  an  image  the  unattainable 
conditions  of  her  bliss.1 

Now,  there  is  a  sense  in  which  it  may  be  said,  that  the 
desire  of  knowledge  is  a  department  of  the  desire  of  perfeet 
love  :  since  one  aspect  of  that  primal,  all  inclusive  passion  is 


1902),  "  Feeling,  intelligence,  will !  When  shall  we  be  delivered  from  this  tedious 
trinity  ?  When  shall  we  give  up,  once  for  all,  this  classification  which  corresponds 
to  nothing?"  The  classification,  however,  is  retained  here  as  a  matter  of  general 
convenience.  So  long  as  its  symbolic  character  is  kept  in  mind,  its  advantages  prob- 
ably outweigh  its  defects. 

1  The  wise  Cherubs,  according  to  the  beautiful  imagery  of  Dionysius,  are  "  all 
eyes,"  but  the  loving  Seraphs  are  "all  wings."  Whilst  the  Seraphs,  the  figure  of 
intensest  Love,  "move  perpetually  towards  things  divine,"  ardour  and  energy  being 
their  characteristics,  the  characteristic  of  the  Cherubs  is  receptiveness,  their  power 
of  absorbing  the  rays  of  the  Supernal  Light.  (Dionysius  the  Areopagite,  "  De  Caelesti 
Ierarchia,"  vi.  2,  and  vii.  1.) 


MYSTICISM  AND  PSYCHOLOGY  55 

clearly  a  longing  to  know,  in  the  deepest,  fullest,  closest  sense, 
the  thing  adored.  Love's  characteristic  activity — for  Love,  all 
wings,  is  inherently  active,  and  "  cannot  be  lazy,"  as  the  mystics 
say — is  a  quest,  an  outgoing  towards  an  object  desired,  which 
only  when  possessed  will  be  fully  known,  and  only  when  fully 
known  can  be  perfectly  adored.1  Intimate  communion,  no  less 
than  worship,  is  of  its  essence.  Joyous  fruition  is  its  proper 
end.  This  is  true  of  all  Love's  quests,  whether  the  Beloved  be 
human  or  divine — the  bride,  the  Grail,  the  Mystic  Rose,  the 
plenitude  of  God.  But  there  is  no  sense  in  which  it  can  be 
said  that  the  desire  of  love  is  merely  a  department  of  the  desire 
of  perfect  knowledge  :  for  that  strictly  intellectual  ambition 
includes  no  adoration,  no  self-spending,  no  reciprocity  of  feeling 
between  Knower  and  Known.  Mere  knowledge,  taken  alone,  is 
a  matter  of  receiving,  not  of  acting :  of  eyes,  not  wings  :  a  dead 
alive  business  at  the  best. 

There  is  thus  a  sharp  distinction  to  be  drawn  between  these 
two  great  expressions  of  life :  the  energetic  love,  the  passive 
knowledge.  One  is  related  to  the  eager,  outgoing  activity,  the 
dynamic  impulse  to  do  somewhat,  physical,  mental,  or  spiritual, 
which  is  inherent  in  all  living  things  and  which  psychologists 
call  conation;  the  other  to  the  indwelling  consciousness,  the 
passive  knowing  somewhat,  which  they  call  cognition. 

To  go  back  to  our  original  diagram,  "  conation  "  is  almost 
wholly  the  business  of  will,  but  of  will  stimulated  by  emotion  : 
for  wilful  action  of  every  kind,  however  intellectual  it  may  seem, 
is  always  the  result  of  feeling.  We  act  because  we  want  to ; 
our  impulse  to  "  do  "  is  a  synthesis  of  determination  and  desire. 
All  man's  achievements  are  the  result  of  conation,  never  of  mere 
thought.  "  The  intellect  by  itself  moves  nothing,"  said  Aristotle, 
and  modern  psychology  has  but  affirmed  this  law.  Hence  his 
quest  of  Reality  is  never  undertaken,  though  it  may  be  greatly 
assisted,  by  the  intellectual  aspect  of  his  consciousness  ;  for  the 
reasoning  powers  as  such  have  little  initiative.  Their  province  is 
analytic,  not  exploratory.  They  stay  at  home,  dissecting  and 
arranging  matter  that  comes  to  hand  ;  and  do  not  adventure 

1  So  Recejac  says  of  the  mystics,  "  They  desire  to  know,  only  that  they  may  love  ; 
and  their  desire  for  union  with  the  principles  of  things  in  God,  Who  is  the  sum  of 
them  all,  is  founded  on  a  feeling  which  is  neither  curiosity  nor  self-interest  "  ("  Fonde- 
ments  de  la  Connaissance  Mystique,"  p.  50). 


56  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

beyond  their  own  region  in  search  of  food.  Thought  does  not 
penetrate  far  into  an  object  in  which  the  self  feels  no  interest — 
i.e.,  towards  which  she  does  not  experience  a  "  conative  "  move- 
ment of  attraction,  of  desire — for  interest  is  the  only  method 
known  to  us  of  arousing  the  will,  and  securing  the  fixity  of 
attention  necessary  to  any  intellectual  process.  None  think  for 
long  about  anything  for  which  they  do  not  care  ;  that  is  to 
say,  which  does  not  touch  some  aspect  of  their  emotional  life. 
They  may  hate  it,  love  it,  fear  it,  want  it ;  but  they  must  have 
some  feeling  about  it.  Feeling  is  the  tentacle  we  stretch  out  to 
the  world  of  things. 

Here  the  lesson  of  psychology  is  the  same  as  that  which 
Dante  brought  back  from  his  pilgrimage ;  the  supreme  import- 
ance and  harmonious  movement  of  il  desiro  and  il  velle.  Si 
come  rota  ch!  egualmente  e  mossa,1  these  move  together  to  fulfil  the 
Cosmic  Plan./In  all  human  life,  in  so  far  as  it  is  not  merely  a 
condition  of  passive  "awareness,"  the  law  which  he  found 
implicit  in  the  universe  is  the  law  of  the  individual  mind. 
Not  logic,  not  "  common  sense,"  but  Vamor  che  move  il  sole 
e  le  altre  stelle  is  the  motive  force  of  the  spirit  of  man :  in  the 
inventors,  the  philosophers,  and  the  artists,  no  less  than  in  the 
heroes  and  in  the  saints.,, 

The  vindication  of  the  importance  of  feeling  in  our  life,  and 
in  particular  its  primacy  over  reason  in  all  that  has  to  do  with 
man's  contact  with  the  transcendental  world,  has  been  one  of 
the  chief  works  of  recent  psychology.  Especially  in  the  sphere 
of  religion  it  has  come  to  be  acknowledged  that  "  God  known  of 
the  heart "  is  a  better  and  more  valid  statement  of  ultimate 
experience  than  "  God  guessed  at  by  the  brain  "  ;  that  the  active 
adventure  of  the  spirit  is  more  fruitful  and  more  trustworthy 
than  the  dialectic  proof.  One  by  one  the  commonplaces  of 
mysticism  are  being  thus  rediscovered  by  official  science,  and 
given  their  proper  place  in  the  psychology  of  the  spiritual  life. 
The  steady  growth  of  vitalistic  theories  of  existence,  with  their 
tendency  to  emphasize  the  purely  departmental  and  utilitarian 
nature  of  the  intellect,  and  interpret  everything  in  terms  of 
vitality,  assists  this  process.  /  Thus  Leuba  has  not  hesitated  to 
say  that  "  Life,  more  life,  a  larger,  richer,  more  satisfying  life,  is 
in  the  last  analysis  the  end  of  religion,"  2  and  we  have  seen  that 

1  Par.  xxxiii.  143.  8  The  Monistt  July,  1901,  p.  572. 


MYSTICISM  AND  PSYCHOLOGY  57 

life,  as  we  know  it,  appears  to  be  far  more  tightly  bound  up  with 
will  and  feeling  than  with  thought. 

That  which  our  religious  and  ethical  teachers  were  wont  to 
call  "  mere  emotion  "  is  now  acknowledged  to  be  of  the  primal 
stuff  of  consciousness.  Thought  is  but  its  servant :  a  skilled 
and  often  arrogant  servant,  with  a  constant  tendency  to  usurpa- 
tion. At  bottom,  then,  we  shall  find  in  emotion  the  power 
which  drives  the  mental  machinery ;  a  power  as  strong  as 
steam,  though  as  evanescent  unless  it  be  put  to  work.  Without 
it,  the  will  would  be  dormant,  and  the  intellect  lapse  into  a 
calculating  machine.  As  for  its  transitoriness,  incessant  change 
has  been  defined  by  Bergson  as  a  necessary  condition  of  con- 
sciousness, indeed  of  life.1 

Further,  °  the  heart  has  its  reasons  which  the  mind  knows 
not  of."  It  is  a  matter  of  experience  that  in  our  moments  of 
deep  emotion,  transitory  though  they  be,  we  plunge  deeper  into 
the  reality  of  things  than  we  can  hope  to  do  in  hours  of  the 
most  brilliant  argument.  At  the  touch  of  passion  doors  fly 
open  which  logic  has  battered  on  in  vain  :  for  passion  rouses  to 
activity  not  merely  the  mind,  but  the  whole  vitality  of  man.  It 
is  the  lover,  the  poet,  the  mourner,  the  convert,  who  shares  for 
a  moment  the  mystic's  privilege  of  lifting  that  Veil  of  Isis  which 
science  handles  so  helplessly,  leaving  only  her  dirty  finger- 
marks behind.  The  heart,  eager  and  restless,  goes  out  into 
the  unknown,  and  brings  home,  literally  and  actually,  "fresh 
food  for  thought."  Hence  those  who  "  feel  to  think  "  are  likely 
to  possess  a  richer,  more  real,  if  less  orderly,  experience  than 
those  who  "  think  to  feel." 

This  psychological  law,  easily  proved  in  regard  to  earthly 
matters,  holds  good  also  upon  the  supersensual  plane.  It 
was  expressed  once  for  all  by  one  of  the  earliest  of  English 
mystics  when  he  said  of  God,  "  By  love  He  may  be  gotten  and 
holden,  but  by  thought  of  understanding  never."  3  "  The  first 
thing  which  enlightens  our  eyes,"  says  Ruysbroeck,  is  the  vivid 
emotion  which  floods  and  irradiates  consciousness  when  it  receives 
a  message  from  the  spiritual  world.  This  exalted  feeling,  this 
desire,  not  the  neat  deductions  of  logic,  the  apologist's  "  proofs  " 
of  the  existence  of  the  Absolute,  unseals  the  eyes  to  things  unseen 

1  H.  Bergson,  "  Les  Donnees  Imm£diates  de  la  Conscience,"  cap.  ii. 
8  "  The  Cloud  of  Unknowing,"  cap.  vi.  (B.  M.  Harl.  674). 


58  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

before.  He  continues,  "  Of  this  abrupt  emotion  is  born  from  the 
side  of  man  the  second  point:  that  is  to  say,  a  concentration  of 
all  the  interior  and  exterior  forces  in  the  unity  of  the  spirit  and 
in  the  bonds  of  love."  ■  Here  we  see  emotion  at  its  proper 
work,  as  the  spring  and  stimulant  of  action  ;  the  movement  of 
desire  passing  over  at  once  into  the  act  of  concentration,  the 
gathering  up  of  all  the  powers  of  the  self  into  a  state  of  deter- 
mined attention,  which  is  the  business  of  the  Will. 

Now  this  act  of  perfect  concentration,  the  passionate  focus- 
ing of  the  self  upon  one  point,  when  it  is  applied  in  "  the  unity 
of  the  spirit  and  the  bonds  of  love  "  to  real  and  transcendental 
things,  constitutes  in  the  technical  language  of  mysticism  the 
state  of  meditation  or  recollection : 2  a  condition  which  is 
peculiarly  characteristic  of  the  mystical  consciousness,  and  is 
the  necessary  prelude  of  pure  contemplation,  that  state  in 
which  the  mystic  enters  into  communion  with  Reality. 

We  have  then  arrived  so  far  in  our  description  of  the 
mechanism  of  the  mystic.  Possessed  like  other  men  of 
powers  of  feeling,  thought,  and  will,  it  is  essential  that  his 
love  and  his  determination,  even  more  than  his  thought,  should 
be  set  upon  Transcendent  Reality.  He  must  feel  a  strong 
emotional  attraction  toward  the  supersensual  Object  of  his 
qu<tst:  that  love  which  scholastic  philosophy  defined  as  the 
force  or  power  which  causes  every  creature  to  follow  out  the 
trend  of  its  own  nature.  Of  this  must  be  born  the  will  to 
attain  communion  with  that  Absolute  Object.  This  will,  this 
burning  and  active  desire,  must  crystallize  into  and  express 
itself  by  that  definite  and  conscious  concentration  of  the  whole 
self  upon  the  Object,  which  precedes  the  contemplative  state. 
We  see  already  how  far  astray  are  those  who  look  upon  the 
mystical  temperament  as  passive  in  type. 

Our  next  concern,  then,  would  seem  to  be  with  this  con- 
dition of  contemplation  :  what  it  does  and  whither  it  leads. 
What  is  {a)  its  psychological  explanation  and  (b)  its  empirical 
value  ?  Now,  in  dealing  with  this,  and  other  rare  mental 
conditions,  we  are  of  course  trying  to  describe  from  without 
that  which  can  only  adequately  be  described  from  within ; 
which  is  as  much  as  to  say  that  only  mystics  can  really  write 

1  "L'Ornement  des  Noces  Spirituelles,"  1.  ii.  cap.  iv.  (trans.  Maeterlinck). 
3  See  below,  Pt.  II.  Cap.  VI. 


MYSTICISM  AND  PSYCHOLOGY  59 

about  mysticism.  Fortunately,  many  mystics  have  so  written  ; 
and  we,  from  their  experiences  and  from  the  explorations  of 
psychology  upon  another  plane,  are  able  to  make  certain  ele- 
mentary deductions.  It  appears  generally  from  these  that  the 
act  of  contemplation  is  for  the  mystic  a  psychic  gateway ;  a 
method  of  going  from  one  state  of  consciousness  to  another. 
In  technical  language  it  is  the  condition  under  which  he  shifts 
his  "  field  of  perception  "  and  obtains  his  characteristic  outlook 
on  the  universe.  That  there  is  such  a  characteristic  outlook, 
peculiar  to  no  creed  or  race,  is  proved  by  the  history  of  mysti- 
cism ;  which  demonstrates  plainly  enough  that  there  is  developed 
in  some  men  another  sort  of  consciousness,  another  "sense," 
beyond  those  normal  qualities  of  the  self  which  we  have 
discussed.  This  "  sense "  has  attachments  at  each  point  to 
emotion,  to  intellect,  and  to  will.  It  can  express  itself  under 
each  of  the  aspects  which  these  terms  connote.  Yet  it  differs 
from  and  transcends  the  emotional,  intellectual,  and  volitional 
life  of  ordinary  men.  It  was  recognized  by  Plato  as  that 
consciousness  which  could  apprehend  the  real  world  of  the 
Ideas.  Its  development  is  the  final  object  of  that  education 
which  his  "  Republic  "  describes.  It  is  called  by  Plotinus 
"  Another  intellect,  different  from  that  which  reasons  and  is 
denominated  rational."  x  Its  business,  he  says,  is  the  percep- 
tion of  the  supersensual — or,  in  Neoplatonic  language,  the 
intelligible  world.  It  is  the  sense  which,  in  the  words  of  the 
"Theologia  Germanica,"  has  "the  power  of  seeing  into  eternity,"  2 
the  "  mysterious  eye  of  the  soul "  by  which  St.  Augustine  saw 
"the  light  that  never  changes." 3  It  is,  says  Al  Ghazzali,  a 
Persian  mystic  of  the  eleventh  century,  "like  an  immediate 
perception,  as  if  one  touched  its  object  with  one's  hand."  4  In 
the  words  of  his  great  Christian  successor,  St.  Bernard,  "  it  may 
be  defined  as  the  soul's  true  unerring  intuition,  the  unhesitating 
apprehension  of  truth  "  :  5  which  "  simple  vision  of  truth,"  says 
St.  Thomas  Aquinas,  "  ends  in  a  movement  of  desire."  6 

It  is  infused  with  burning  love,  for  it  seems  to  its  possessors 

1  Plotinus,  Ennead  vi.  9. 

2  "Theologia  Germanica,"  cap.  vii.  (trans.  Winkworth). 

3  Aug.  Conf.,  bk.  vii.  cap.  x. 

4  A.  Schmolders,  "  Essai  sur  les  Ecoles  Philosophique  chez  les  Arabes,"  p.  68. 
s  "De  Consideratione,"  bk.  ii.  cap.  ii. 

6  "  Summa  Theologica,"  ii.  ii.  q.  clxxx.  art.  3.  eds.  I  and  3. 


60  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

to  be  primarily  a  movement  of  the  heart:  with  intellectual 
subtlety,  for  its  ardour  is  wholly  spent  upon  the  most  sublime 
object  of  thought :  with  unflinching  will,  for  its  adventures  are 
undertaken  in  the  teeth  of  the  natural  doubts,  prejudices, 
languors,  and  self-indulgence  of  man.  These  adventures,  looked 
upon  by  those  who  stay  at  home  as  a  form  of  the  Higher 
Laziness,  are  in  reality  the  last  and  most  arduous  labours 
which  humanity  is  called  to  perform.  They  are  the  only 
known  methods  by  which  we  can  come  into  conscious  posses- 
sion of  all  our  powers  ;  and,  rising  from  the  lower  to  the  higher 
levels  of  consciousness,  become  aware  of  that  larger  life  in 
which  we  are  immersed,  attain  communion  with  the  transcendent 
Personality  in  Whom  that  life  is  resumed. 

Mary  has  chosen  the  better,  not  the  idler  part.  In  vain 
does  sardonic  common  sense,  confronted  with  the  contempla- 
tive type,  reiterate  the  sneer  of  Mucius,  "Encore  sont-ils  heureux 
que  la  pauvre  Marthe  leur  fasse  la  cuisine."  It  remains  a  para- 
dox of  the  mystics  that  the  passivity  at  which  they  appear  to 
aim  is  really  a  state  of  the  most  intense  activity :  more,  that 
where  it  is  wholly  absent  no  great  creative  action  can  take 
place.  In  it,  the  superficial  self  compels  itself  to  be  still,  in 
order  that  it  may  liberate  another  more  deep-seated  power 
which  is,  in  the  ecstasy  of  the  contemplative  genius,  raised  to 
the  highest  pitch  of  efficiency. 

"This  restful  labouring,"  said  Walter  Hilton,  "is  full  far 
from  fleshly  idleness  and  from  blind  security.  It  is  full  of 
spiritual  working,  but  it  is  called  rest,  for  that  grace  looseth 
the  heavy  yoke  of  fleshly  love  from  the  soul  and  maketh  it 
mighty  and  free  through  the  gift  of  spiritual  love  for  to  work 
gladly,  softly,  and  delectably.  .  .  .  Therefore  it  is  called  an 
holy  idleness  and  a  rest  most  busy,  and  so  it  is  in  regard  of 
stillness  from  the  great  crying  of  the  beastly  noise  of  fleshly 
desires."  x 

If  those  who  have  cultivated  this  latent  power  be  correct  in 
their  statements,  the  self  was  mistaken  in  supposing  herself  to 
be  entirely  shut  off  from  the  true  external  universe.  She  has 
it  seems,  certain  tentacles  which,  once  she  learns  to  uncurl  them 
will  stretch  sensitive  fingers  far  beyond  that  limiting  envelope 
in  which  her  normal  consciousness  is  contained,  and  obtain  data 
1  Walter  Hilton,  "  The  Scale  of  Perfection,"  bk.  iii.  cap.  x. 


MYSTICISM  AND  PSYCHOLOGY  61 

from  which  she  can  construct  a  higher  reality  than  that  which 
can  be  deduced  from  the  reports  of  the  senses.  The  fully- 
educated  and  completely  conscious  human  soul  can  open,  then, 
as  an  anemone  does,  and  know  the  ocean  in  which  she  is  bathed. 
This  act,  this  condition  of  consciousness,  in  which  barriers  are 
obliterated,  the  Absolute  flows  in  on  us,  and  we,  rushing  out  to 
its  embrace,  "find  and  feel  the  Infinite  above  all  reason  and 
above  all  knowledge," l  is  the  true  "  mystical  state."  The  value 
of  contemplation  is  that  it  tends  to  produce  this  state,  and 
turns  the  "  lower  servitude "  in  which  the  natural  man  lives 
under  the  sway  of  his  earthly  environment  to  the  "  higher 
servitude"  of  fully  conscious  dependence  on  that  Reality  "in 
Whom  we  live  and  move  and  have  our  being." 

What  then,  we  ask,  is  the  nature  of  this  special  sense — this 
transcendental  consciousness  —  and  how  does  contemplation 
liberate  it? 

Any  attempt  to  answer  this  question  brings  upon  the  scene 
another  aspect  of  man's  psychic  life :  an  aspect  which  is  of 
paramount  importance  to  the  student  of  the  mystic  type.  We 
have  reviewed  the  chief  aspects  under  which  the  normal  self 
reacts  upon  experience  by  means  of  its  surface  consciousness  :  a 
consciousness  which  has  been  trained  through  long  ages  to  deal 
with  those  concrete  matters  which  make  up  the  universe  of 
sense.  We  know,  however,  that  the  personality  of  man  is  a  far 
deeper  and  more  mysterious  thing  than  the  sum  of  his  con- 
scious feeling,  thought,  and  will :  that  this  superficial  self — this 
Ego  of  which  each  of  us  is  aware — hardly  counts  in  comparison 
with  those  deeps  of  being  which  it  hides.  "  There  is  a  root  or 
depth  in  thee,"  says  Law,  "  from  whence  all  these  faculties  come 
forth  as  lines  from  a  centre,  or  as  branches  from  the  body  of  a 
tree.  This  depth  is  called  the  centre,  the  fund,  or  bottom,  of 
the  soul.  This  depth  is  the  unity,  the  Eternity,  I  had  almost 
said  the  infinity  of  thy  soul,  for  it  is  so  infinite  that  nothing  can 
satisfy  it,  or  give  it  any  rest,  but  the  infinity  of  God."2 

Since  normal  man,  by  means  of  his  feeling,  thought,  and 
will,  is  utterly  unable  to  set  up  relations  with  spiritual  reality,  it 
is  clearly  in  this  depth  of  being — in  these  unplumbed  levels  of 

*  Ruysbroeck,  "  De  Septem  Gradibus  Amoris,"  cap.  xiv. 

a  "The  Spirit  of  Prayer"  ("  Liberal  and  Mystical  Writings  of  William  Law," 
p.  14). 


62  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

personality — that  we  must  search,  if  we  would  find  the  organ, 
the  power,  by  which  he  is  to  achieve  the  mystic  quest.  That 
alteration  of  consciousness  which  takes  place  in  contemplation 
can  only  mean  the  emergence  from  this  "  fund  or  bottom  of  the 
soul "  of  some  faculty  which  diurnal  life  keeps  hidden  "  in  the 
deeps." 

Modern  psychology  has  summed  up  man's  hiddenness  in  that  -^ 
doctrine  of  the  subconscious  or  subliminal  personality  which 
looms  so  large  in  recent  apologetic  literature.  It  has  so  dwelt 
upon  and  defined  this  vague  and  shadowy  region — which  is 
really  less  a  "  region  "  than  a  useful  name — that  it  sometimes 
seems  to  know  more  about  the  subconscious  than  about  the 
conscious  life  of  man.  There  it  finds,  side  by  side,  the  sources 
of  his  most  animal  instincts,  his  least  explicable  powers,  his 
most  spiritual  intuitions :  the  "  ape  and  tiger,"  and  the  "  soul." 
Genius  and  prophecy,  table-turning  and  clairvoyance,  hypnotism, 
hysteria,  and  "  Christian "  science — all  are  explained  by  the 
"subconscious  mind."  In  its  pious  and  apologetic  moods,  it 
has  told  us  ad  nauseam  that  "  God  speaks  to  man  in  the  sub- 
consciousness," l  and  has  succeeded  in  making  the  subliminal 
self  into  the  Mesopotamia  of  Liberal  Christianity.  The  result 
is  that  popular  psychology  tends  more  and  more  to  personify 
and  exalt  the  "  subconscious."  Forgetting  the  salutary  warning 
administered  by  a  living  writer,  when  he  told  us  that  man  has 
not  only  a  "  Shadowy  Companion,"  but  a  "  Muddy  Companion  " 
too,2  it  represents  the  subliminal  self  as  an  imprisoned  angel,  a 
mystic  creature  possessed  of  supernatural  powers.  Stevenson 
was  far  more  scientific  when  he  described  the  subconscious 
personality  of  Dr.  Jekyll  as  being  Mr.  Hyde :  for  the  "  subcon- 
sciousness "  is  simply  the  aggregate  of  those  powers,  parts,  or 
qualities  of  the  whole  self  which  at  any  given  moment  are  not 
conscious,  or  that  the  Ego  is  not  conscious  of.  Included  in  the 
subconscious  region  of  an  average  healthy  man  are  all  those 
automatic  activities  by  which  the  life  of  the  body  is  carried  on  : 
all  those  "  uncivilized  "  instincts  and  vices,  those  remains  of  the 
ancestral  savage  which  education  has  forced  out  of  the  stream 
of  consciousness ;  all  those  aspirations  for  which  the  busy  life 

1  Cutten,  "  Psychological  Phenomena  of  Christianity,"  p.  18.    James,  "Varieties 
of  Religious  Experience,"  p.  515.     Schofield,  "  The  Unconscious  Mind,"  p.  92. 

2  Arthur  Machen,  "  Hieroglyphics,"  p.  124. 


MYSTICISM  AND  PSYCHOLOGY  63 

of  the  world  leaves  no  place.  Hence  in  normal  men  the 
best  and  the  worst,  the  most  savage  and  most  spiritual 
parts  of  the  character,  are  bottled  up  "below  the  threshold." 
Often  the  partisans  of  the  "  subconscious "  forget  to  mention 
this. 

It  follows,  then,  that  whilst  we  shall  find  it  convenient  and 
indeed  necessary  to  avail  ourselves  of  the  symbols  and  diagrams 
of  psychology  in  tracking  out  the  mystic  way,  we  must  not 
forget  the  large  and  vague  significance  which  attaches  to  these 
symbols,  or  allow  ourselves  to  use  the  "  subconscious  "  as  the 
equivalent  of  man's  transcendental  sense.  Here  the  old  mystics, 
I  think,  displayed  a  more  scientific  spirit,  a  more  delicate  power 
of  analysis,  than  the  new  psychologists.  They,  too,  were  aware 
that  in  normal  men  the  spiritual  sense  lies  below  the  threshold 
of  consciousness.  Though  they  had  not  at  their  command  the 
astonishing  spatial  metaphors  of  the  modern  school,  and  could 
not  describe  man's  ascent  toward  God  in  those  picturesque 
terms  of  paths  and  levels,  uprushes,  margins,  and  fields,  which 
now  come  so  naturally  to  investigators  of  the  spiritual  life,  they 
leave  us  in  no  doubt  as  to  their  view  of  the  facts.  Further, 
man's  spiritual  history  primarily  meant  for  them,  as  it  means 
for  us,  the  emergence  of  this  transcendental  sense  from  its 
prison ;  its  capture  of  the  field  of  consciousness,  and  the 
opening  up  of  those  paths  which  permit  the  inflow  of  a 
larger  spiritual  life,  the  perception  of  a  higher  reality.  This, 
in  so  far  as  it  was  an  isolated  act,  was  "  contemplation."  When 
it  was  part  of  the  general  life  process,  and  permanent,  they 
called  it  the  New  Birth,  which  "  maketh  alive."  The  faculty  or 
personality  concerned  in  the  "New  Birth" — the  "spiritual  man," 
capable  of  the  spiritual  vision  and  life,  which  was  dissociated 
from  the  M  earthly  man  "  adapted  only  to  the  natural  life — was 
always  distinguished  by  them  very  sharply  from  the  total 
personality,  conscious  or  subconscious.  It  was  something 
definite  ;  a  bit  or  spot  of  man  which,  belonging  not  to  Time 
but  to  Eternity,  was  different  in  kind  from  the  rest  of  his 
human  nature,  framed  in  all  respects  to  meet  the  demands  of 
the  merely  natural  world. 

The  business  of  the  mystic  in  the  eyes  of  these  old 
specialists  was  to  remake,  transmute,  his  total  personality  in 
the   interest   of  his   spiritual    self;    to    bring    it    out    of   the 


64  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

hiddenness,  and  unify  himself  about  it  as  a  centre,  thus 
"  putting  on  divine  humanity." 

It  is  interesting  to  note  that  the  most  recent  teaching  of 
Rudolph  Eucken  is  in  this  respect  a  pure  and  practical 
mysticism,  though  his  conclusions  have  not  been  reached  by 
the  mystic's  road.  The  "  redemptive  remaking  of  personality," 
in  conformity  with  the  transcendent  or  spiritual  life  of  the 
universe,  is  for  him  the  central  necessity  of  human  life.  The 
life  of  reality,  he  says,  is  spiritual  and  heroic:  an  act,  not  a 
thought.1  Further,  Eucken,  like  the  mystics,  declares  that 
there  is  a  definite  transcendental  principle  in  man.2  He  calls  it 
the  Gemilth,  the  heart  or  core  of  personality ;  and  there,  he 
says,  "  God  and  man  initially  meet."  He  invites  us,  as  we  have 
seen,3  to  distinguish  in  man  two  separate  grades  of  being ;  "  the 
narrower  and  the  larger  life,  the  life  that  is  straitened  and 
finite,  and  can  never  transcend  itself,  and  an  infinite  life  through 
which  he  enjoys  communion  with  the  immensity  and  the  truth 
of  the  universe."  4  At  bottom,  all  the  books  of  the  mystics  tell 
us  no  more  and  no  less ;  but  their  practical  instructions  in  the 
art  of  self-transcendence,  by  which  man  may  appropriate  that 
infinite  life,  far  excel  those  of  the  philosopher  in  lucidity  and 
exactness. 

The  divine  nucleus,  the  point  of  contact  between  man's  life 
and  the  divine  life  in  which  it  is  immersed  and  sustained, 
has  been  given  many  names  in  course  of  the  development  of 
mystical  doctrine.  All  clearly  mean  the  same  thing,  though 
emphasizing  different  aspects  of  its  life.  Sometimes  it  is  called 
the  Synteresis,5  the  keeper  or  preserver  of  his  being:  some- 
times the  Spark  of  the  Soul,  the  Fiinklein  of  the  German 
mystics  :  sometimes  its  Apex,  the  point  at  which  it  touches  the 
heavens.  Then,  with  a  sudden  flight  to  the  other  end  of  the 
symbolic  scale,  and  in  order  to  emphasize  its  oneness  with  pure 
Being,  rather  than  its  difference  from  mere  nature,  it  is  called 
the  Ground  of  the  Soul,  the  foundation  or  basal  stuff  whence 
springs  all  spiritual  life. 


1  Boyce  Gibson,  "  Rudolph  Eucken's  Philosophy,"  p.  17. 
9  Ibid.,  p.  104.  3  Supra,  Cap.  II. 

4  Eucken,  "  Der  Sinn  und  Wert  des  Lebens ,"  p.  81. 

s  An  interesting  discussion  of  the  term  "  Synteresis  M  will  be  found  in  Dr.  Inge's 
"  Christian  Mysticism,"  Appendix  C,  pp.  359,  360. 


MYSTICISM  AND  PSYCHOLOGY  65 

Clearly  all  these  guesses  and  suggestions  aim  at  one  goal, 
and  are  to  be  understood  in  a  purely  symbolic  sense ;  for,  as 
Malaval  observed  in  answer  to  his  disciples'  anxious  inquiries 
on  this  subject,  "  since  the  soul  of  man  is  a  spiritual  thing  and 
thus  cannot  have  divisions  or  parts,  consequently  it  cannot  have 
height  or  depth,  summit  or  surface.  But  because  we  judge 
spiritual  things  by  the  help  of  material  things,  since  we  know 
these  better  and  they  are  more  familiar  to  us,  we  call  the 
highest  of  all  forms  of  conception  the  summit,  and  the  easier 
way  of  comprehending  things  the  surface,  of  the  under- 
standing." x 

Here  at  any  rate,  whatever  name  we  may  choose  to  give  it 
is  the  organ  of  man's  spiritual  consciousness  ;  the  place  where 
he  meets  the  Absolute,  the  germ  of  his  real  life.  Here  is  tht 
seat  of  that  deep  "Transcendental  Feeling,"  the  "beginning 
and  end  of  metaphysics  "  which  is,  says  Professor  Stewart,  "  at 
once  the  solemn  sense  of  Timeless  Being — of  '  That  which  was 
and  is  and  ever  shall  be'  overshadowing  us — and  the,  con- 
viction that  Life  is  good."  "  I  hold,"  says  the  same  writer, 
"  that  it  is  in  Transcendental  Feeling,  manifested  normally  as 
Faith  in  the  Value  of  Life,  and  ecstatically  as  sense  of  Timeless 
Being,  and  not  in  Thought  proceeding  by  way  of  speculative 
construction,  that  Consciousness  comes  nearest  to  the  object 
of  metaphysics,  Ultimate  Reality."  2 

The  existence  of  such  a  "  sense,"  such  an  integral  part  or 
function  of  the  complete  human  being,  has  been  affirmed  and 
dwelt  upon  not  only  by  the  mystics,  but  by  seers  and  teachers 
of  all  times  and  creeds  :  by  Egypt,  Greece,  and  India,  the 
poets,  the  fakirs,  the  philosophers,  and  the  saints.  A  belief  in 
its  actuality  is  the  pivot  of  the  Christian  position :  the  founda- 
tion and  justification  of  mysticism,  asceticism,  the  whole 
machinery  of  the  self-renouncing  life.  That  there  is  an 
extreme  point  at  which  man's  nature  touches  the  Absolute: 
that  his  ground,  or  substance,  his  true  being,  is  penetrated  by 
the  Divine  Life   which  constitutes   the   underlying  reality  of 

1  "  La  Pratique  de  la  Vraye  Theologie  Mystique,"  vol.  i.  p.  204. 

3  J.  A.  Stewart,  "The  Myths  of  Plato,"  pp.  41,  43.    Perhaps  I  may  point  out  that 
this  Transcendental  Feeling — the  ultimate  material  of  poetry — has,  like  the  mystic 
consciousness,  a  dual  perception  of  Reality :  static  being  and  dynamic  life.      See 
above,  p.  42. 
F 


66  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

things ;  this  is  the  basis  on  which  the  whole  mystic  claim  of 
possible  union  with  God  must  rest.  Here,  they  say,  is  our  link 
with  reality ;  and  in  this  place  alone  can  be  celebrated  the 
"  marriage  from  which  the  Lord  comes."  * 

To  use  another  of  their  diagrams,  it  is  thanks  to  the  exist- 
ence within  him  of  this  immortal  spark  from  the  central  fire, 
that  man  is  implicitly  a  "  child  of  the  infinite."  The  mystic 
way  must  therefore  be  a  life,  a  discipline,  which  will  so  alter 
the  constituents  of  his  mental  life  as  to  include  this  spark 
within  the  conscious  field,  bring  it  out  of  the  hiddenness,  from 
those  deep  levels  where  it  sustains  and  guides  his  normal 
existence,  and  make  it  the  dominant  element  round  which  his 
personality  is  arranged.  The  revolution  in  which  this  is 
effected  begins  with  the  New  Birth,  which  has  been  described 
under  other  terms  by  Rudolph  Eucken,  as  the  indispensable 
preliminary  of  an  "  independent  spiritual  life  "  in  man.2 

Now  it  is  clear  that  under  ordinary  conditions,  and  save  for 
sudden  gusts  of  "  Transcendental  Feeling "  induced  by  some 
saving  madness  such  as  Religion,  Art,  or  Love,  the  superficial 
self  knows  nothing  of  the  attitude  of  this  silent  watcher — this 
"  Dweller  in  the  Innermost " — towards  the  incoming  messages 
of  the  external  world  :  nor  of  the  activities  which  they  awake  in 
it.  Wholly  taken  up  by  the  sense-world,  and  the  messages  she 
receives  from  it,  she  knows  nothing  of  the  relations  which  exist 
between  this  subject  and  the  unattainable  Object  of  all  thought. 
But  by  a  deliberate  inattention  to  the  messages  of  the  senses, 
such  as  that  which  is  induced  by  contemplation,  the  mystic 
brings  the  ground  of  the  soul,  the  seat  of  "Transcendental 
Feeling,"  within  the  area  of  consciousness  :  making  it  amenable 
to  the  activity  of  the  will.  The  contemplative  subject,  becom- 
ing unaware  of  his  usual  and  largely  fictitious  "  external  world," 
another  and  more  substantial  set  of  perceptions,  which  never 
have  their  chance  under  normal  conditions,  rise  to  the  surface. 
Sometimes  these  unite  with  the  normal  reasoning  faculties. 
More  often,  they  supersede  them.  Some  such  exchange,  such 
"losing  to  find,"  appears  to  be  necessary,  if  man's  transcen- 
dental powers  are  to  have  their  full  chance. 

"  The  two  eyes  of  the  soul  of  man,"  says  the  "  Theologia 

1  Tauler,  Sermon  on  St.  Augustine  ("The  Inner  Way,"  p.  162). 

*  "  Der  Sinn  und  Wert  des  Lebens,"  p.  146.     See  also  below,  Pt.  I.  Cap.  V. 


MYSTICISM  AND  PSYCHOLOGY  67 

Germanica "  in  an  apt  and  vigorous  metaphor,  "  cannot  both 
perform  their  work  at  once :  but  if  the  soul  shall  see  with  the 
right  eye  into  eternity,  then  the  left  eye  must  close  itself  and 
refrain  from  working,  and  be  as  though  it  were  dead.  For  if 
the  left  eye  be  fulfilling  its  office  toward  outward  things ;  that 
is,  holding  converse  with  time  and  the  creatures  ;  then  must 
the  right  eye  be  hindered  in  its  working ;  that  is,  in  its  con- 
templation. Therefore  whosoever  will  have  the  one  must  let 
the  other  go ;  for  '  no  man  can  serve  two  masters.' " x 

There  is  within  us  an  immense  capacity  for  perception,  for 
the  receiving  of  messages  from  outside  ;  and  a  very  little  con- 
sciousness which  deals  with  them.  It  is  as  if  one  telegraph 
operator  were  placed  in  charge  of  a  multitude  of  lines:  all  may 
be  in  action,  but  he  can  only  attend  to  one  at  a  time.  In 
popular  language,  there  is  not  enough  consciousness  to  go 
round.  Even  upon  the  sensual  plane,  no  one  can  be  aware  of 
more  than  a  few  things  at  once.  These  fill  the  centre  of  our 
field  of  consciousness :  as  the  object  on  which  we  happen  to 
have  focused  our  vision  dominates  our  field  of  sight.  The 
other  matters  within  that  field  retreat  to  the  margin.  We  know, 
dimly,  that  they  are  there ;  but  we  pay  them  no  attention  and 
should  hardly  miss  them  if  they  ceased  to  exist. 

Transcendental  matters  are,  for  most  of  us,  always  beyond 
the  margin  ;  because  most  of  us  have  given  up  our  whole  con- 
sciousness to  the  occupation  of  the  senses,  and  permitted  them 
to  construct  there  a  universe  in  which  we  are  contented  to 
remain.  Only  in  certain  occult  and  mystic  states :  in  orison, 
contemplation,  ecstasy  and  their  allied  conditions ;  does  the 
self  contrive  to  turn  out  the  usual  tenants,  shut  the  "  gateways 
of  the  flesh,"  and  let  those  submerged  powers  which  are  capable 
of  picking  up  messages  from  another  plane  of  being  have  their 
turn.  Then  it  is  the  sensual  world  which  retreats  beyond  the 
margin,  and  another  landscape  that  rushes  in.  At  last,  then, 
we  begin  to  see  something  of  what  contemplation  does  for  its 
initiates.  It  is  one  of  the  many  names  applied  to  that  chain 
of  processes  which  have  for  their  object  this  alteration  of  the 
mental  equilibrium  :  the  putting  to  sleep  of  that  "  Normal  Self" 
which  usually  wakes,  and  the  awakening  of  that  "  Transcen- 

1  "  Theologia    Germanica,"    cap.    vii.      A    Kempis   has   the   same    metaphor. 
Compare  "  De  Imitatione  Christi, "  1.  iii.  cap.  38. 


68  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

dental  Self"  which  usually  sleeps.  To  man,  "  meeting-point 
of  various  stages  of  reality,"  is  given — though  he  seldom  con- 
siders it — this  unique  power  of  choosing  his  universe. 

The  extraordinary  phenomenon  known  as  double  or  disin-  j 
tegrated  personality  may  perhaps  give  us  a  hint  as  to  the 
mechanical  nature  of  the  change  which  contemplation  effects. 
In  this  psychic  malady  the  total  character  of  the  patient  is 
split  up  ;  a  certain  group  of  qualities  are,  as]  it  were,  abstracted 
from  the  surface-consciousness  and  so  closely  associated  as  to 
form  in  themselves  a  complete  "  character  "  or  "  personality  " — 
necessarily  poles  asunder  from  the  "  character "  which  the  self 
usually  shows  to  the  world,  since  it  consists  exclusively  of  those 
elements  which  are  omitted  <from  it.  Thus  in  the  classical 
case  of  Miss  Beauchamp,  the  investigator,  Dr.  Morton  Prince, 
called  the  three  chief  "  personalities,"  from  their  ruling  char- 
acteristics, "  the  Saint,"  "  the  Woman,"  and  "  the  Devil."  *  The 
totality  of  character  which  composed  the  "real  Miss  Beau- 
champ  "  had  split  up  into  these  mutually  opposing  types ; 
each  of  which  was  excessive,  because  withdrawn  from  the 
control  of  the  rest.  When,  voluntarily  or  involuntarily,  the 
personality  which  had  possession  of  the  field  of  consciousness 
was  lulled  to  sleep,  one  of  the  others  emerged.  Hypnotism 
was  one  of  the  means  which  most  easily  effected  this  change. 

Now  in  persons  of  mystical  genius,  the  qualities  which  the 
stress  of  normal  life  tends  to  keep  below  the  threshold  of  con- 
sciousness are  of  enormous  strength.  In  these  natural  explorers 
of  Eternity  the  "  transcendental  faculty,"  the  "  eye  of  the  soul," 
is  not  merely  present  in  embryo,  but  is  highly  developed ;  and 
is  combined  with  great  emotional  and  volitional  power.  The 
result  of  the  segregation  of  such  qualities  below  the  threshold 
of  consciousness  is  to  remove  from  them  the  friction  of  those 
counterbalancing  traits  in  the  surface  mind  with  which  they 
might  collide.  They  are  "  in  the  hiddenness,"  as  Jacob  Boehme 
would  say.  There  they  develop  unchecked,  until  a  point  is 
reached  at  which  their  strength  is  such  that  they  break  their 
bounds  and  emerge  into  the  conscious  field  :  either  temporarily 
dominating  the  subject  as  in  ecstasy,  or  permanently  trans- 
muting the  old  self,  as  in  the  "  unitive  life."  The  attainment  of 
this  point  is  accelerated  by  such  processes  as  those  of  contem- 

1  Morton  Prince,  "  The  Dissociation  of  a  Personality,"  p.  16. 


MYSTICISM  AND  PSYCHOLOGY 


(S 


plation.  These  processes — not  themselves  mystical,  but  merely 
the  mechanical  conditions  of  mystical  experience — are  classed 
by  psychologists  with  the  states  of  dream  and  reverie,  and  the 
conditions  loosely  called  hypnotic.  In  them  the  normal  surface 
consciousness  is  deliberately  or  involuntarily  lulled,  and  images  or 
faculties  from  "beyond  the  threshold  "  are  able  to  take  its  place. 
Of  course  these  images  or  faculties  may  or  may  not  be  more 
valuable  than  those  already  present  in  the  surface-conscious- 
ness. In  the  ordinary  subject,  often  enough,  they  are  but  the 
odds  and  ends  for  which  the  superficial  mind  has  found  no 
use.  In  the  mystic,  they  are  of  a  very  different  order :  and 
this  fact  justifies  the  means  which  he  instinctively  employs 
to  secure  their  emergence.  Indian  mysticism  founds  its 
external  system  almost  wholly  on  (a)  Ascetism,  the  domina- 
tion of  the  senses,  and  (b)  the  deliberate  practice  of  self- 
hypnotization  ;  either  by  fixing  the  eyes  on  a  near  object,  or 
by  the  rhythmic  repetition  of  the  mantra  or  sacred  word.  By 
these  complementary  forms  of  discipline,  the  pull  of  the 
phenomenal  world  is  diminished  and  the  mind  is  placed  at  the 
disposal  of  the  subconscious  powers.  Dancing,  music,  and 
other  exaggerations  of  natural  rhythm  have  been  pressed  into 
the  same  service  by  the  Greek  initiates  of  Dionysus,  by  the 
Gnostics,  by  innumerable  other  mystic  cults.  That  these  pro- 
ceedings do  effect  a  remarkable  change  in  the  human  conscious- 
ness is  proved  by  experience :  though  how  and  why  they  do  it 
is  as  yet  little  understood.  Such  artificial  and  deliberate  pro- 
duction of  ecstasy  is  against  the  whole  instinct  of  the  Christian 
contemplatives ;  but  here  and  there  amongst  them  also  we  find 
instances  in  which  ecstatic  trance  or  lucid  ty,  the  liberation  of 
the  "  transcendental  sense,"  was  inadvertently  produced  by 
purely  physical  means.  Thus  Jacob  Boehme,  the  "  Teutonic 
theosopher,"  having  one  day  as  he  sat  in  his  room  "gazed 
fixedly  upon  a  burnished  pewter  dish  which  reflected  the 
sunshine  with  great  brilliance,"  fell  into  an  inward  ecstasy,  and 
it  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  could  look  into  the  principles  and 
deepest  foundations  of  things.1  The  contemplation  of  running 
water  had  the  same  effect  on  St.  Ignatius  Loyola.  Sitting  on 
the  bank  of  a  river  one  day,  and  facing  the  stream,  which  was 
running  deep,  "  the  eyes  of  his  mind  were  opened,  not  so  as  to 
1  Martensen,  "Jacob  Boehme,"  p.  7. 


70  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

see  any  kind  of  vision,  but  so  as  to  understand  and  comprehend 
spiritual  things  .  .  .  and  this  with  such  clearness  that  for  him 
all  these  things  were  made  new."1  This  method  of  attain- 
ing to  mental  lucidity  by  a  narrowing  and  simplification  of 
the  conscious  field,  finds  an  apt  parallel  in  the  practice  of  Em- 
manuel Kant,  who  "  found  that  he  could  better  engage  in 
philosophical  thought  while  gazing  steadily  at  a  neighbouring 
church  steeple."  2 

It  need  hardly  be  said  that  rationalistic  writers,  ignoring  the 
parallels  offered  by  the  artistic  and  philosophic  temperaments, 
have  seized  eagerly  upon  the  evidence  afforded  by  such 
instances  of  apparent  mono-ideism  and  self-hypnotization  in  the 
lives  of  the  mystics,  and  by  the  physical  disturbances  which 
accompany  the  ecstatic  trance,  and  sought  by  its  application  to 
attribute  all  the  abnormal  perceptions  of  contemplative  genius 
to  hysteria  or  other  disease.  They  have  not  hesitated  to  call 
St.  Paul  an  epileptic,  St.  Teresa  the  "patron  saint  of 
hysterics " ;  and  have  found  room  for  most  of  their  spiritual 
kindred  in  various  departments  of  the  pathological  museum. 
They  have  been  helped  in  this  grateful  task  by  the  acknow- 
ledged fact  that  the  great  contemplatives,  though  almost  always 
persons  of  robust  intelligence  and  marked  practical  or  intellec- 
tual ability — Plotinus,  St.  Bernard,  the  two  S.S.  Catherine, 
St.  Teresa,  St.  John  of  the  Cross,  and  the  Sufi  poets  Jami'  and 
Jelalu  'd  Din  are  cases  in  point — have  often  suffered  from  bad 
physical  health.  More,  their  mystical  activities  have  generally 
reacted  upon  their  bodies  in  a  definite  and  special  way ; 
producing  in  several  cases  a  particular  kind  of  illness  and  of 
physical  disability,  accompanied  by  pains  and  functional  dis- 
turbances for  which  no  organic  cause  could  be  discovered,  unless 
that  cause  were  the  immense  strain  which  exalted  spirit  puts 
upon  a  body  which  is  adapted  to  a  very  different  form 
of  life. 

It  is  certain  that  the  abnormal  and  highly  sensitized  type  of 
mind  which  we  call  mystical  does  frequently,  but  not  always,  pro- 
duce or  accompany  strange  and  inexplicable  modifications  of  the 
physical  organism  with  which  it  is  linked.  The  supernatural  is 
not  here  in  question,  except  in  so  far  as  we  are  inclined  to  give 

1  Testament,  cap.  iii. 

2  Starbuck,  "  The  Psychology  of  Religion,"  p.  388. 


MYSTICISM  AND  PSYCHOLOGY  71 

that  name  to  natural  phenomena  which  we  do  not  understand. 
Such  instances  of  psycho-physical  parallelism  as  the  stigmatiza- 
tions  of  the  saints — and  indeed  of  other  suggestible  subjects 
hardly  to  be  ranked  as  saints — will  occur  to  anyone.1  I  here 
offer  to  the  reader  another  less  discussed  and  more  extraordinary 
example  of  the  modifying  influence  of  the  spirit  on  the  supposed 
"  laws  "  of  bodily  life. 

We  know,  as  a  historical  fact,  unusually  well  attested  by 
contemporary  evidence  and  quite  outside  the  sphere  of  hagio- 
graphic  romance,  that  both  St.  Catherine  of  Siena  and  her 
namesake  St.  Catherine  of  Genoa — active  women  as  well  as 
ecstatics,  the  first  a  philanthropist,  reformer,  and  politician, 
the  second  an  original  theologian  and  for  many  years  the  highly 
efficient  matron  of  a  large  hospital — lived,  in  the  first  case  for 
years,  in  the  second  for  constantly  repeated  periods  of  many 
weeks,  without  other  food  than  the  consecrated  Host  which  they 
received  at  Holy  Communion.  They  did  this,  not  by  way  of 
difficult  obedience  to  a  pious  vow,  but  because  they  could  not 
live  in  any  other  way.  Whilst  fasting,  they  were  well  and 
active,  capable  of  dealing  with  the  innumerable  responsibilities 
which  filled  their  lives.  But  the  attempt  to  eat  even  a  few 
mouthfuls — and  this  attempt  was  constantly  repeated,  for,  like 
all  true  saints,  they  detested  eccentricity  2 — at  once  made  them 
ill  and  had  to  be  abandoned  as  useless.3 

In  spite  of  the  researches  of  Murisier,4  Janet,5  Ribot,6  and 
other  psychologists,  and  their  persevering  attempts  to  find  a 
pathological  explanation  which  will  fit  all  mystic  facts,  this  and 
other  marked  physical  peculiarities  which  accompany  the  mys- 
tical temperament  belong  as  yet  to  the  unsolved  problems  of 
humanity.  They  need  to  be  removed  both  from  the  sphere  of 
marvel  and  from  that  of  disease — into  which  enthusiastic  friends 

1  See,  for  instances,  Cutten,  "The  Psychological  Phenomena  of  Christianity," 
cap.  viii. 

2  "Singularity,"  says  Gertrude  More,  "is a  vice  which  Thou  extreamly  hatest " 
("  The  Spiritual  Exercises  of  the  most  vertuous  and  religious  Dame  Gertrude  More," 
p.  40).     All  the  best  and  sanest  of  the  mystics  are  of  the  same  opinion. 

3  See  E.  Gardner,  "  St.  Catherine  of  Siena,"  pp.  12  and  48  ;  and  F.  von  Hiigel, 
"  The  Mystical  Element  of  Religion,"  vol.  i.  p.  135. 

4  "  Les  Maladies  des  Sentiments  Religieux." 

s  "  L'Etat  Mentale  des  Hysteriques,"  and  "  Une  Extatique"  {Bulletin  de 
Vlnstitut  Psychologique,  1901). 

6  "  La  Psychologie  des  Sentiments,"  1896. 


72  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

and  foes  force  them  by  turn — to  the  sphere  of  pure  psychology  ; 
and  there  studied  dispassionately  with  the  attention  which  we 
so  willingly  bestow  on  the  less  interesting  eccentricities  of  de- 
generacy and  vice.  Their  existence  no  more  discredits  the 
sanity  of  mysticism  or  the  validity  of  its  results  than  the 
unstable  nervous  condition  usually  noticed  in  artists — who 
share  to  some  extent  the  mystic's  apprehension,  of  the  Real — 
discredits  art.  "  In  such  cases  as  Kant  and  Beethoven,"  says 
Von  Hiigel  justly,  "  a  classifier  of  humanity  according  to  its 
psycho-physical  phenomena  alone  would  put  these  great  dis- 
coverers and  creators,  without  hesitation,  amongst  hopeless  and 
useless  hypochondriacs." ■ 

In  the  case  of  the  mystics  the  disease  of  hysteria,  with  its 
astounding  variety  of  mental  symptoms,  its  strange  power  of 
disintegrating,  rearranging  and  enhancing  the  elements  of 
consciousness,  its  tendencies  to  automatism  and  ecstasy,  has 
been  most  often  invoked  to  provide  an  explanation  of  the 
observed  phenomena.  This  is  as  if  one  sought  the  source  of 
the  genius  of  Taglioni  in  the  symptoms  of  St.  Vitus's  dance. 
Both  the  art  and  the  disease  have  to  do  with  bodily  movements. 
So  too  both  mysticism  and  hysteria  have  to  do  with  the 
domination  of  consciousness  by  one  fixed  and  intense  idea  or 
intuition,  which  rules  the  life  and  is  able  to  produce  amazing 
physical  and  psychical  results.  In  the  hysteric  patient  this 
idea  is  often  trivial  or  morbid  2  but  has  become — thanks  to  the 
self  s  unstable  mental  condition — an  obsession.  In  the  mystic  y 
the  dominant  idea  is  a  great  one  :  so  great  in  fact  that  when  it 
is  received  in  its  completeness  by  the  human  consciousness, 
almost  of  necessity  it  ousts  all  else.  It  is  nothing  less  than  the 
idea  or  perception  of  the  transcendent  reality  and  presence  of 
God.  Hence  the  mono-ideism  of  the  mystic  is  rational,  whilst 
that  of  the  hysteric  patient  is  invariably  irrational. 

On  the  whole  then,  whilst  psycho-physical  relations  remain 
so  little  understood,  it  would  seem  more  prudent,  and  certainly 
more  scientific,  to  withhold  our  judgment  on  the  meaning  of 
the  psycho-physical  phenomena  which  accompany  the  mystic 
life ;  instead  of  basing  destructive  criticism  on  facts  which  are 
avowedly  mysterious  and  at  least  capable   of  more  than  one 

1  Op.  cit.,  vol.  ii.  p.  42. 

2  For  examples  consult  Pierre  Janet,  op.  cit. 


MYSTICISM  AND  PSYCHOLOGY  73 

interpretation.     To  deduce  the  nature  of  a  compound  from  the 
character  of  its  by-products  is  notoriously  unsafe. 

Our  bodies  are  animal  things,  made  for  animal  activities. 
When  a  spirit  of  unusual  ardour  insists  on  using  its  nerve- 
cells  for  other  activities,  they  kick  against  the  pricks,  and 
inflict,  as  the  mystics  themselves  acknowledge,  the  penalty  of 
"  mystical  ill-health."  "  Believe  me,  children,"  says  Tauler, 
"  one  who  would  know  much  about  these  high  matters  would 
often  have  to  keep  his  bed,  for  his  bodily  frame  could  not 
support  it."  x  "I  cause  thee  extreme  pain  of  body,"  says  the 
voice  of  Love  to  Mechthild  of  Magdeburg.  "If  I  gave  myself 
to  thee  as  often  as  thou  wouldst  have  me,  I  should  deprive 
myself  of  the  sweet  shelter  I  have  of  thee  in  this  world,  for 
a  thousand  bodies  could  not  protect  a  loving  soul  from  her 
desire.     Therefore  the  higher  the  love  the  greater  the  pain."2 

On  the  other  hand  the  exalted  personality  of  the  mystic — 
his  self-discipline,  his  heroic  acceptance  of  labour  and  suffering, 
and  his  inflexible  will — raises  to  a  higher  term  that  normal 
power  of  mind  over  body  which  all  possess.  Also  the  con- 
templative state — like  the  hypnotic  state  in  a  healthy  person 
— seems  to  enhance  life  by  throwing  open  deeper  levels  of 
personality.  The  self  then  drinks  at  a  fountain  which  is  fed 
by  the  Universal  Life  :  the  "  life  of  the  Spirit,"  to  use  the 
language  of  Eucken's  philosophy.  True  ecstasy  is  notoriously 
life-enhancing.  In  it  a  bracing  contact  vvith  Reality  seems 
to  take  place,  and  as  a  result  the  subject  is  himself  more  real 
Often,  says  St.  Teresa,  even  the  sick  come  forth  from  ecstasy 
healthy  and  with  new  strength  ;  for  something  great  is  then 
given  to  the  soul.3  Contact  has  been  set  up  with  levels  of 
being  which  the  daily  routine  of  existence  leaves  untouched. 
Hence  the  extraordinary  powers  of  endurance  and  independence 
of  external  conditions  which  the  great  ecstatics  so  often  display. 

If  we  see  in  the  mystics,  as  some  have  done,  the  sporadic 
beginning  of  a  power,  a  higher  consciousness,  towards  which 
the  race  slowly  tends  ;  then  it  seems  likely  enough  that  where 
it  appears  nerves  and  organs  should  suffer  under  a  stress  to 
which  they  have  not  yet  become  adapted,   and  that  a   spirit 

1  Sermon  for  First  Sunday  after  Easter  (Winkworth,  p.  302). 

2  "  Das  Fliessende  Licht  der  Gottheit,"  pt.  ii.  cap.  xxv. 

3  Vida,  cap.  xx.  §  29.     (Here  and  throughout  I  use  Lewis's  translation.) 


74  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

more  highly  organized  than  its  bodily  home  should  be  able 
to  impose  strange  conditions  on  the  flesh.  When  man  first 
stood  upright,  a  body  long  accustomed  to  go  on  all  fours,  legs 
which  had  adjusted  themselves  to  bearing  but  half  his  weight, 
must  have  rebelled  against  this  unnatural  proceeding  ;  inflicting 
upon  its  author  much  pain  and  discomfort  if  not  absolute  illness. 
It  is  at  least  permissible  to  look  upon  the  strange  "psycho- 
physical" state  common  amongst  the  mystics  as  just  such  a 
rebellion  on  the  part  of  a  normal  nervous  and  vascular  system 
against  the  exigencies  of  a  way  of  life  to  which  it  has  not  yet 
adjusted  itself.1 

In  spite  of  such  rebellion,  and  of  the  tortures  to  which  it  has 
subjected  them,  the  mystics,  oddly  enough,  are  a  long-lived 
race  :  an  awkward  fact  for  critics  of  the  physiological  school. 
To  take  only  a  few  instances  from  amongst  marked  ecstatics, 
St.  Hildegarde  liveji  to  be  eighty-one,  Mechthild  of  Magdeburg 
to  eighty-seven,  Ruysbroeck  to  eighty-eight,  Suso  to  seventy, 
St.  Catherine  of  Genoa  and  St.  Peter  of  Alcantara  to  sixty- 
three,  Madame  Guyon  to  sixty-nine.  It  seems  as  though  that 
enhanced  life  which  is  the  reward  of  mystical  surrender  enabled 
them  to  triumph  over  their  bodily  disabilities :  and  to  live  and 
do  the  work  demanded  of  them  under  conditions  which  would 
have  incapacitated  ordinary  men. 

Such  triumphs,  which  take  heroic  rank  in  the  history  of  the 
human  mind,  have  been  accomplished  as  a  rule  in  the  same 
way.  Like  all  intuitive  persons,  all  possessors  of  genius,  all 
potential  artists — with  whom  in  fact  they  are  closely  related — 
the  mystics  have,  in  psychological  language,  "thresholds  of 
exceptional  mobility."  That  is  to  say,  a  very  slight  effort,  a 
very  slight  departure  from  normal  conditions,  will  permit  their 
latent  or  "  subliminal "  powers  to  emerge  and  occupy  the  mental 
field.  A  "  mobile  threshold "  may  make  a  man  a  genius,  a 
lunatic,  or  a  saint.  All  depends  upon  the  character  of  the 
emerging  powers.  In  the  great  mystic,  these  powers,  these 
mighty  tracts  of  personality   lying  below  the  level  of  normal 

1  Mr.  Boyce  Gibson  has  lately  drawn  a  striking  parallel  between  the  ferment  and 
"interior  uproar"  of  adolescence  and  the  profound  disturbances  which  mark  man's 
entry  into  a  conscious  spiritual  life.  His  remarks  are  even  more  applicable  to  the 
drastic  rearrangement  of  personality  which  takes  place  in  the  case  of  the  mystic, 
whose  spiritual  life  is  more  intense  than  that  of  other  men.  See  Boyce  Gibson, 
"God  with  Us,"  1909,  cap.  iii. 


MYSTICISM  AND  PSYCHOLOGY  75 

consciousness,  are  of  unusual  richness ;  and  cannot  be 
accounted  for  in  terms  of  pathology.  "If  it  be  true,"  says 
Delacroix,  <:that  the  great  mystics  have  not  wholly  escaped 
those  nervous  blemishes  which  mark  nearly  all  exceptional 
organizations,  there  is  in  them  a  vital  and  creative  power, 
a  constructive  logic,  an  extended  scale  of  realization — in  a 
word  a  genius — which  is,  in  truth,  their  essential  quality.  .  .  . 
The  great  mystics,  creators  and  inventors  who  have  found  a 
new  form  of  life  and  have  justified  it  .  .  .  join,  upon  the 
highest  summits  of  the  human  spirit,  the  great  simplifiers 
of  the  world."  * 

The  truth,  then,  so  far  as  we  know  it  at  present,  seems  to  be 
that  those  powers  which  are  in  contact  with  the  Transcendental 
Order,  and  which  constitute  at  the  lowest  estimate  half  the  self, 
are  dormant  in  ordinary  men,  whose  time  and  interest  are 
wholly  occupied  in  responding  to  the  stimuli  of  the  world  of 
sense.  With  those  latent  powers  sleeps  the  landscape  which 
they  alone  can  apprehend.  In  mystics  none  of  the  self  is 
always  dormant.  They  have  roused  the  Dweller  in  the  Inner- 
most from  its  slumbers,  and  round  it  have  unified  their  life. 
Heart,  Reason,  Will  are  there  in  full  action,  drawing  their 
energy  not  from  the  shadow-show  of  sense,  but  from  the  deeps 
of  true  Being ;  where  a  lamp  is  lit,  and  a  consciousness  awake, 
of  which  the  sleepy  crowd  remains  oblivious.  He  who  says  the 
mystic  is  but  half  a  man,  states  the  exact  opposite  of  the  truth. 
Only  the  mystic  can  be  called  a  whole  man,  since  in  others  half 
the  powers  of  the  self  always  sleep.  This  wholeness  of  expe- 
rience is  much  insisted  on  by  the  mystics.  Thus  the  Divine 
Voice  says  to  St.  Catherine  of  Siena,  "  I  have  also  shown  thee 
the  Bridge  and  the  three  general  steps,  placed  there  for  the 
three  powers  of  the  soul,  and  I  have  told  thee  how  no  one  can 
attain  to  the  life  of  grace  unless  he  has  mounted  all  three  steps, 
that  is,  gathered  together  all  the  three  powers  of  the  soul  in  My 
Name."2 

In  those  abnormal  types  of  personality  to  which  we  give  the 
name  of  genius,  we  seem  to  detect  a  hint  of  the  relations  which 
may  exist  between  these  deep  levels  of  being  and  the  crust  of 
consciousness.  In  the  poet,  the  musician,  the  great  mathe- 
matician or  inventor,  mighty  powers  lying  below  the  threshold, 

1  Delacroix,  "  Etudes  sur  le  Mysticisme,"  p.  ill.  a  Dialogo,  cap.  lxxxvi. 


76  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

hardly  controllable  by  their  owner's  conscious  will,  clearly  take 
a  major  part  in  the  business  of  perception  and  conception.  In 
all  creative  acts,  the  larger  share  of  the  work  is  done  subcon- 
sciously :  its  emergence  is  in  a  sense  automatic.  This  is  equally 
true  of  mystics,  artists,  philosophers,  discoverers,  and  rulers  of 
men.  The  great  religion,  invention,  work  of  art,  always  owes  its 
inception  to  some  sudden  uprush  of  intuitions  or  ideas  for  which 
the  superficial  self  cannot  account ;  its  execution  to  powers  so  far 
beyond  the  control  of  that  self,  that  they  seem,  as  their  owner 
sometimes  says,  to  "  come  from  beyond."  This  is  "  inspiration," 
the  opening  of  the  sluices,  so  that  those  waters  of  truth  in 
which  all  life  is  bathed  may  rise  to  the  level  of  consciousness. 

The  great  teacher,  poet,  artist,  inventor,  never  aims  delibe- 
rately at  his  effects.  He  obtains  them  he  knows  not  how  : 
perhaps  from  a  contact  of  which  he  is  unconscious  with  that 
creative  plane  of  being  which  the  Sufis  call  the  Constructive 
Spirit,  and  the  Kabalists  Yesod,  and  which  both  postulate  as 
lying  next  behind  the  world  of  sense.  "  Sometimes,"  said  the 
great  Alexandrian  Jew  Philo,  "  when  I  have  come  to  my  work 
empty,  I  have  suddenly  become  full ;  ideas  being  in  an  invisible 
manner  showered  upon  me,  and  implanted  in  me  from  on  high; 
so  that  through  the  influence  of  divine  inspiration,  I  have 
become  greatly  excited,  and  have  known  neither  the  place  in 
which  I  was,  nor  those  who  were  present,  nor  myself,  nor  what 
I  was  saying,  nor  what  I  was  writing ;  for  then  I  have  been 
conscious  of  a  richness  of  interpretation,  an  enjoyment  of  light, 
a  most  penetrating  insight,  a  most  manifest  energy  in  all  that 
was  to  be  done ;  having  such  an  effect  on  my  mind  as  the 
clearest  ocular  demonstration  would  have  on  the  eyes."  x  This 
is  a  true  creative  ecstasy,  strictly  parallel  to  the  state  in  which 
the  mystic  performs  his  mighty  works. 

To  let  oneself  go,  be  quiet,  receptive,  is  the  condition  under 
which  such  contact  with  the  Cosmic  Life  may  be  obtained. 
"  I  have  noticed  that  when  one  paints  one  should  think  of 
nothing:  everything  then  comes  better,"  says  the  young 
Raphael  to  Leonardo  da  Vinci.2  The  superficial  self  must 
here    acknowledge    its    own    insufficiency,   must   become    the 

1  Quoted  by  James  ("Varieties  of  Religious  Experience,"  p.  481)  from  Clissold's 
'•'  The  Prophetic  Spirit  in  Genius  and  Madness,"  p.  67. 

2  Merejkowsky,  "  Le  Roman  de  Leonard  de  Vinci,"  p.  638. 


MYSTICISM  AND  PSYCHOLOGY  77 

humble  servant  of  a  more  profound  and  vital  consciousness. 
The  mystics  are  of  the  same  opinion.  "  I  tried,"  says  Madame 
Guyon,  speaking  of  her  early  failures  in  contemplation,  "to 
obtain  by  effort  that  which  I  could  only  obtain  by  ceasing  all 
effort." z  "  The  best  and  noblest  way  in  which  thou  mayst 
come  into  this  Life,"  says  Eckhart,  "  is  by  keeping  silence  and 
letting  God  work  and  speak.  Where  all  the  powers  are  with- 
drawn from  their  work  and  images  there  is  this  word  spoken 
.  .  .  the  more  thou  canst  draw  in  all  thy  powers  and  forget  the 
creature  the  nearer  art  thou  to  this,  and  the  more  receptive."  2 

Thus  Boehme  says  to  the  neophyte,3  "  When  both  thy  intel- 
lect and  will  are  quiet  and  passive  to  the  expressions  of  the 
eternal  Word  and  Spirit,  and  when  thy  soul  is  winged  up  above 
that  which  is  temporal,  the  outward  senses  and  the  imagination 
being  locked  up  by  holy  abstraction,  then  the  eternal  Hearing, 
Seeing,  and  Speaking  will  be  revealed  in  thee.  Blessed  art 
thou  therefore  if  thou  canst  stand  still  from  self  thinking  and 
self  willing,  and  canst  stop  the  wheel  of  thy  imagination  and 
senses."  Then,  the  conscious  mind  being  passive,  the  more 
divine  mind  below  the  threshold — organ  of  our  free  creative 
life — can  emerge  and  present  its  reports.  In  the  words  of  an 
older  mystic,  "  The  soul,  leaving  all  things  and  forgetting  her- 
self, is  immersed  in  the  ocean  of  Divine  Splendour,  and  illumi- 
nated by  the  Sublime  Abyss  of  the  Unfathomable  Wisdom."  4 

The  "  passivity  "  of  contemplation,  then,  is  a  necessary  pre- 
liminary of  spiritual  energy:  an  essential  clearing  of  the  ground. 
It  withdraws  the  tide  of  consciousness  from  the  shores  of  sense,, 
stops  the  "  wheel  of  the  imagination."  "  The  soul,"  says  Eckhart 
again,  "  is  created  in  a  place  between  Time  and  Eternity  :  with 
its  highest  powers  it  touches  Eternity,  with  its  lower  Time."  s 
These,  the  worlds  of  Being  and  Becoming,  are  the  two  "  stages 
of  reality  "  which  meet  in  the  spirit  of  man.  By  cutting  us  off 
from  the  temporal  plane,  the  lower  kind  of  reality,  Contempla- 
tion gives  the  eternal  plane,  and  the  powers  which  can  commu- 

x  Vie  (ed.  Poiret,  1720),  t.  ii.  p.  74. 

2  Meister  Eckhart,  Pred.  i.  ("  Mystische  Schriften,"  p.  18). 

3  "Three  Dialogues  of  the  Supersensual  Life,"  p.  14. 

4  Dionysius  the  Areopagite,  "  De  Divinis  Nominibus,"  vii.  3. 

5  Pred.  xxiii.  Eckhart  obtained  this  image  from  St.  Thomas  Aquinas,  "  Summa 
Contra  Gentiles,"  1.  iii.  cap.  lxi.  "  The  intellectual  soul  is  created  on  the  confines 
of  eternity  and  time." 


78  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

nicate  with  that  plane,  their  chance.  In  the  born  mystic  these 
powers  are  great,  and  lie  very  near  the  normal  threshold  of 
consciousness.  He  has  a  genius  for  transcendental — or  as  he 
would  say,  divine — discovery  in  exactly  the  same  way  as  his 
cousins,  the  born  musician  and  poet,  have  a  genius  for  musical  or 
poetic  discovery.  In  all  three  cases,  the  emergence  of  these 
higher  powers  is  mysterious,  and  not  least  so  to  those  who 
experience  it.  Psychology  on  the  one  hand,  theology  on  the 
other,  may  offer  us  diagrams  and  theories  of  this  proceeding : 
of  the  strange  oscillations  of  the  developing  consciousness,  the 
fitful  visitations  of  a  lucidity  and  creative  power  over  which  the 
self  has  little  or  no  control ;  the  raptures  and  griefs  of  a  vision 
by  turns  granted  and  withdrawn.  But  the  secret  of  genius 
still  eludes  us,  as  the  secret  of  life  eludes  the  biologist. 

The  utmost  we  can  say  of  such  persons  is,  that  reality  pre- 
sents itself  to  them  under  abnormal  conditions  and  in  abnormal 
terms,  and  that  subject  to  these  conditions  and  in  these  terms 
they  are  bound  to  deal  with  it.  Thanks  to  their  peculiar  mental 
make  up,  one  aspect  of  the  universe  is  for  them  focused  so 
sharply  that  in  comparison  with  it  all  other  images  are  blurred, 
vague,  and  unreal.  Hence  the  sacrifice  which  men  of  genius — 
mystics,  artists,  inventors — make  of  their  whole  lives  to  this  one 
Object,  this  one  vision  of  truth,  is  not  self-denial,  but  rather 
self-fulfilment.  They  gather  themselves  up  from  the  unreal,  in 
order  to  concentrate  on  the  real.  The  whole  personality  then 
absorbs  or  enters  into  communion  with  certain  rhythms  or 
harmonies  existent  in  the  universe,  which  the  receiving  appa- 
ratus of  other  selves  cannot  take  up.  "  Here  is  the  finger  of 
God,  a  flash  of  the  Will  that  can  ! "  exclaims  Abt  Vogler,  as 
the  sounds  grow  under  his  hand.  "  The  numbers  come  !  "  says 
the  poet.  He  knows  not  how  ;  certainly  not  by  deliberate 
intellectation. 

So  it  is  with  the  mystic.  Madame  Guyon  states  in  her 
autobiography,  that  when  she  was  composing  her  works  she 
would  experience  a  sudden  and  irresistible  inclination  to  take 
up  her  pen  ;  though  feeling  wholly  incapable  of  literary  compo- 
sition, and  not  even  knowing  the  subject  on  which  she  would  be 
impelled  to  write.  If  she  resisted  this  impulse  it  was  at  the 
cost  of  the  most  intense  discomfort.  She  would  then  begin  to 
write  with  extraordinary  swiftness  ;  words,  elaborate  arguments, 


MYSTICISM  AND  PSYCHOLOGY  79 

and  appropriate  quotations  coming  to  her  without  reflec- 
tion, and  so  quickly  that  one  of  her  longest  books  was  written 
in  one  and  a  half  days.1 

"  In  writing  I  saw  that  I  was  writing  of  things  which  I  had 
never  seen  :  and  during  the  time  of  this  manifestation,  I  was 
given  light  to  perceive  that  I  had  in  me  treasures  of  knowledge 
and  understanding  which  I  did  not  know  that  I  possessed."  2 

Similar  statements  are  made  of  St.  Teresa,  who  declared 
that  in  writing  her  books  she  was  powerless  to  set  down  any- 
thing but  that  which  her  Master  put  into  her  mind.3  So  Blake 
said  of  "  Milton  "  and  "  Jerusalem,"  "  I  have  written  the  poems 
from  immediate  dictation,  twelve  or  sometimes  twenty  or  thirty 
lines  at  a  time,  without  premeditation  and  even  against  my  will. 
The  time  it  has  taken  in  writing  was  thus  rendered  non-existent, 
and  an  immense  poem  exists  which  seems  to  be  the  labour  of  a 
long  life,  all  produced  without  labour  or  study."  4 

These  are,  of  course,  extreme  forms  of  that  strange  power  of 
automatic  composition,  in  which  words  and  characters  arrive 
and  arrange  themselves  in  defiance  of  their  authors'  will,  of 
which  most  poets  and  novelists  possess  a  trace.  Such  composi- 
tion is  related  to  the  "  automatic  writing  "  of  "  mediums  "  and 
other  sensitives;  in  which  the  often  disorderly  and  incoherent 
subliminal  mind  seizes  upon  this  channel  of  expression.  The 
subliminal  mind  of  the  great  mystic,  however,  is  not  disorderly. 
It  is  richly  endowed  and  keenly  observant — a  treasure  house, 
not  a  lumber  room — and  becomes,  in  the  course  of  its  education, 
a  highly  disciplined  and  skilled  instrument  of  knowledge. 
When,  therefore,  its  contents  emerge,  and  are  presented  to  the 
normal  consciousness  in  the  form  of  lucidity,  "  auditions," 
visions,  automatic  writing,  or  any  other  translations  of  the 
supersensual  into  the  terms  of  sensual  perception,  they  cannot 
be  discredited  because  the  worthless  subconscious  field  of 
feebler  natures  sometimes  manifests  itself  in  the  same  way. 
Idiots  are  often  voluble :  but  many  orators  are  sane. 

Now,  to  sum  up  :  what  are  the  chief  characteristics  which 
we  have  found  in  this  sketch-map  of  the  mental  life  of  man  ? 

(i)  We  have  divided  that  life,  arbitrarily  enough,  along  thp 

1  Vie,  t.  ii.  pp.  120,  229.  2  Op.  cit.,  p.  223. 

3  G.  Cunninghame  Graham,  "  Santa  Teresa,"  vol.  i.  p.  202. 
*  "Letters  of  William  Blake,"  April  25,  1803. 


80  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

fluctuating  line  which  psychologists  call  the  "  threshold  of  his 
consciousness  "  into  the  surface  life  and  the  subconscious  deeps. 

(2)  In  the  surface  life,  though  we  recognized  its  essential 
wholeness,  we  distinguished  three  outstanding  and  ever-present 
aspects :  the  Trinity  in  Unity  of  feeling,  thought,  and  will. 
Amongst  these,  we  were  obliged  to  give  the  primacy  to  feeling, 
as  the  power  which  set  the  machinery  of  thought  and  will  to 
work. 

(3)  We  have  seen  that  the  expression  of  this  life  takes  the 
two  complementary  forms  of  conation,  or  outgoing  action,  and 
cognition,  or  indwelling  knowledge  ;  and  that  the  first,  which  is 
dynamic  in  type,  is  largely  dependent  on  the  will  stimulated  by 
the  emotions  ;  whilst  the  second,  which  is  passive  in  type,  is 
the  business  of  the  intellect.  They  answer  to  the  two  main 
aspects  which  man  discerns  in  the  universal  life :  Being  and 
Becoming. 

(4)  Neither  conation  nor  cognition — action  nor  thought — as 
performed  by  this  surface  mind,  concerned  as  it  is  with  natural 
existence  and  dominated  by  spatial  conceptions,  is  able  to  set 
up  any  relations  with  the  Absolute  or  Transcendental  world. 
Such  action  and  thought  deal  wholly  with  material  supplied 
directly  or  indirectly  by  the  world  of  sense.  The  testimony  of 
the  mystics,  however,  and  of  all  persons  possessing  an  "  instinct 
for  the  Absolute,"  points  to  the  existence  of  a  further  faculty  in 
man ;  an  intuitive  power  which  the  circumstances  of  diurnal  life 
tend  to  keep  "  below  the  threshold  "  of  his  consciousness,  and 
which  thus  becomes  one  of  the  factors  of  his  "  subliminal  life." 
This  latent  faculty  is  the  primary  agent  of  mysticism,  and  lives 
a  "substantial"  life  in  touch  with  the  real  or  transcendental 
world. 

(5)  Certain  processes,  of  which  contemplation  has  been 
taken  as  a  type,  so  alter  the  state  of  consciousness  as  to  permit 
the  emergence  of  this  faculty;  which,  according  as  it  enters 
more  or  less  into  the  conscious  life,  makes  man  more  or  less  a 
mystic. 

The  mystic  life,  therefore,  involves  the  emergence  from  deep 
levels  of  man's  transcendental  self ;  its  capture  of  the  field  of 
consciousness  ;  and  the  "  conversion  "  or  rearrangement  of  his 
feeling,  thought,  and  will — his  character — about  this  new  centre 
of  life. 


MYSTICISM  AND  PSYCHOLOGY  81 

We  state,  then,  as  the  conclusion  of  this  chapter,  that  the 
object  of  the  mystic's  adventure,  seen  from  within,  is  the 
apprehension  of,  or  direct  communion  with,  that  transcendental 
reality  which  we  tried  in  the  last  section  to  define  from 
without. 

Here,  as  in  the  fulfilment  of  the  highest  earthly  love,  know- 
ledge and  communion  are  the  same  thing ;  we  must  be  "  oned 
with  bliss"  if  we  are  to  be  aware  of  it.  The  main  agent  by 
which  we  may  attain  this  communion  resides  in  that  part  of  the 
self  which  usually  lies  below  the  threshold  of  our  conscious- 
ness. Thence,  in  certain  natures  of  abnormal  richness  and 
vitality,  and  under  certain  favourable  conditions,  it  may  be 
liberated  by  various  devices,  such  as  contemplation.  Once  it 
has  emerged,  however,  it  takes  up,  to  help  it  in  the  work,  aspects 
of  the  conscious  self.  The  surface  must  co-operate  with  the 
deeps,  and  at  last  merge  with  those  deeps  to  produce 
that  unification  of  consciousness  upon  high  levels  which 
alone  can  put  a  term  to  man's  unrest.  The  heart  that 
longs  for  the  All,  the  mind  that  conceives  it,  the  will  that 
concentrates  the  whole  self  upon  it,  must  all  be  called  into  play. 
The  self  must  be  surrendered  :  but  it  must  not  be  annihilated, 
as  some  Quietists  have  supposed.  It  only  dies  that  it  may  live 
again.  Supreme  success,  says  the  Lady  Julian,  in  a  passage 
which  anticipates  the  classification  of  modern  psychology,  the 
permanent  assurance  of  the  mystic  that  "  we  are  more  verily  in 
heaven  than  in  earth,"  "  cometh  of  the  natural  Love  of  our 
soul,  and  of  the  clear  light  of  our  Reason,  and  of  the  steadfast 
Mind."  * 

But  what  is  the  order  of  precedence  which  these  three 
activities  are  to  assume  in  the  work  which  is  one  ?  All,  as  we 
have  seen,  must  do  their  part ;  for  the  business  is  nothing  less 
than  the  movement  of  man  in  his  wholeness  to  high  levels.  But 
which  shall  predominate  ?  On  the  answer  which  each  gives  to 
this  question  the  ultimate  nature  of  the  self,  and  the  nature  of 
that  self  s  experience  of  reality,  will  depend.  The  question  for 
her  is  really  this  ;  under  which  aspect  of  consciousness  can  she 
creep  most  closely  to  the  Thought  of  God;  the  real  life  in  which 
she  is  bathed  ?  Which,  fostered  and  made  dominant,  is  most 
likely  to  put  her  in  harmony  with  the  Absolute  ?     The  Love  of 

1  Tulian  of  Norwich,  "  Revelations  of  Divine  Love,"  cap.  lv. 
G 


82  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

God,  which  is  ever  in  the  hearts  and  often  on  the  lips  of 
Saints,  is  the  passionate  desire  for  this  harmony ;  the  "  malady 
of  thought"  is  its  intellectual  equivalent.  Though  we  may 
seem  to  escape  God,  we  cannot  escape  this  craving  ;  except  at 
the  price  of  utter  stagnation.  We  go  back,  therefore,  to  the 
statement  with  which  this  chapter  opened  :  that  of  the  two 
governing  desires  which  share  the  prison  of  the  self.  We  see 
them  now  as  representing  the  cravings  of  the  intellect  and  the 
emotions  for  the  only  end  of  all  quests.  The  disciplined  will — 
that  "  conative  power  " — with  all  the  dormant  faculties  which  it 
can  wake  and  utilize,  can  come  to  the  assistance  of  one  of 
them.  Which  ?  The  question  is  a  crucial  one  ;  for  the  destiny 
of  the  self  depends  on  the  partner  which  the  will  selects. 


CHAPTER   IV 
THE  CHARACTERISTICS  OF   MYSTICISM 

Mysticism  and  Magic — Distinction  between  them — The  Way  of  Love  and  the  Way 
of  Knowledge — Characteristics  of  Mysticism — Difficulty  of  fixing  them — The  Mystic 
has  obtained  contact  with  the  Absolute — He  is  a  spiritual  genius— All  men  have 
latent  mystical  feeling — Such  feeling  is  the  source  of  the  arts — Mystic  and  Artist — 
Their  likenesses  and  differences — Difficulties  of  mystical  expression — Mysticism  and 
music — Richard  Rolle — Symbolic  expression — Vision — An  accident  not  an  implicit  or 
mysticism — A  method  of  communication — Suggestive  power  of  symbols — Four 
characteristics  of  true  mysticism — It  is  (i)  practical,  (2)  transcendental,  (3)  the  mystic 
is  a  lover,  (4)  his  object  is  union  with  the  Absolute — Mysticism  defined — First 
characteristic  illustrated — St.  John  of  the  Cross — Theologia  Germanica — Second 
characteristic  illustrated — Tauler — Plotinus — Third  characteristic  illustrated — Mystic 
love — Rolle — A  Kempis — Gertrude  More — Fourth  characteristic  illustrated — 
Mechthild  of  Magdeburg — The  Mystic  Way — Unity  of  the  mystical  experience — 
A  fifth  characteristic  :  disinterestedness — Self-surrender — Pure  love — Summary 

EVER  since  the  world  began,  man  has  had  two  distinct 
and  fundamental  attitudes  towards  the  unseen  ;  and 
through  them  has  developed  two  methods  of  getting  in 
touch  with  it.  For  the  purpose  of  our  present  inquiry,  I  propose 
to  call  these  methods  the  "  way  of  magic "  and  the  ■  way  of 
mysticism."  Having  said  so  much,  one  must  at  once  add  that 
although  in  their  extreme  forms  these  arts  are  sharply  con- 
trasted with  one  another,  their  frontiers  are  far  from  being 
clearly  defined  :  that,  starting  from  the  same  point,  they  often 
confuse  the  inquirer  by  using  the  same  language,  instruments, 
and  methods.  Hence  it  is  that  so  much  which  is  really  magic 
is  loosely  and  popularly  described  as  mysticism.  They  repre- 
sent as  a  matter  of  fact  the  opposite  poles  of  the  same  thing  : 
the  transcendental  consciousness  of  humanity.  Between  them 
lie  the  great  religions,  which  might  be  described  under  this 
metaphor  as  representing  the  ordinarily  habitable  regions  of 
that    consciousness.      Hence,   at   one   end   of  the   scale,  pure 


84  AN  INTRODUCTION   TO   MYSTICISM 

mysticism  "shades  off"  into  religion — from  some  points  of  view 
seems  to  grow  out  of  it.  No  deeply  religious  man  is  without  a 
touch  of  mysticism  ;  and  no  mystic  can  be  other  than  religious, 
in  the  psychological  if  not  in  the  theological  sense  of  the  word. 
At  the  other  end  of  the  scale,  as  we  shall  see  later  on,  religion, 
no  less  surely,  shades  off  into  magic. 

The  fundamental  difference  between  the  two  is  this :  magic 
wants  to  get,  mysticism  wants  to  give — immortal  and  antago- 
nistic attitudes,  which  turn  up  under  one  disguise  or  another  in 
every  age  of  thought.  Both  magic  and  mysticism  in  their  full 
development  bring  the  whole  mental  machinery,  conscious  and, 
subconscious,  to  bear  on  their  undertaking :  both  claim  that 
they  produce  in  their  initiates  powers  unknown  to  ordinary 
men.  But  the  centre  round  which  that  machinery  is  grouped, 
the  reasons  of  that  undertaking,  and  the  ends  to  which  those 
powers  are  applied  differ  enormously.  In  mysticism  the  will  is 
united  with  the  embtions  in  an  impassioned  desire  to  transcend 
the  sense-world  in  order  that  the  self  may  be  joined  by  love  to 
the  one  eternal  and  ultimate  Object  of  love  ;  whose  existence  is 
intuitively  perceived  by  that  which  we  used  to  call  the  soul,  but 
now  find  it  easier  to  refer  to  as  the  "  Cosmic  "  or  "  transcendental " 
sense.  This  is  the  poetic  and  religious  temperament  acting  upon 
the  plane  of  reality.  In  magic,  the  will  unites  with  the  intellect 
in  an  impassioned  desire  for  supersensible  knowledge.  This  is 
the  intellectual,  aggressive,  and  scientific  temperament  trying  to 
extend  its  field  of  consciousness,  until  it  includes  the  super- 
sensual  world  :  obviously  the  antithesis  of  mysticism,  though 
often  adopting  its  title  and  style. 

It  will  be  our  business  later  on  to  consider  in  more  detail 
the  characteristics  and  significance  of  magic.  Now  it  is  enough 
to  say  that  we  may  class  broadly  as  magical  all  forms  of  self- 
seeking  transcendentalism,  w  It  matters  little  whether  the  appa- 
ratus which  they  use  be  the  incantations  of  the  old  magicians, 
the  congregational  prayer  for  rain  of  orthodox  Churchmen,  or 
the  consciously  self-hypnotizing  devices  of  "  New  Thought "  : 
whether  the  end  proposed  be  the  evocation  of  an  angel,  the 
power  of  transcending  circumstance,  or  the  healing  of  disease. 
The  object  of  the  thing  is  always  the  same :  the  deliberate 
exaltation  of  the  will,  till  it  transcends  its  usual  limitations 
and  obtains  for  the  self  or  group  of  selves  something  which  it 


THE  CHARACTERISTICS   OF  MYSTICISM       85 

or  they  did  not  previously  possess.  It  is  an  individualistic  and 
acquisitive  science  :  in  all  its  forms  an  activity  of  the  intellect, 
seeking  Reality  for  its  own  purposes,  or  for  those  of  humanity 
at  large. 

Mysticism,  whose  great  name  is  too  often  given  to  these 
supersensual  activities,  is  utterly  different  from  this.  It  is 
non-individualistic.  It  implies,  indeed,  the  abolition  of  in- 
dividuality ;  of  that  hard  separateness,  that  "  I,  Me,  Mine." 
which  makes  of  man  a  finite  isolated  thing.  It  is  essentially 
a  movement  of  the  heart,  seeking  to  transcend  the  limitations 
of  the  individual  standpoint  and  to  surrender  itself  to  ultimate 
Reality ;  for  no  personal  gain,  to  satisfy  no  transcendental 
curiosity,  to  obtain  no  other-worldly  joys,  but  purely  from  an 
instinct  of  love.  By  the  word  heart,  of  course  we  here  mean  not 
merely  "  the  seat  of  the  affections,"  "  the  organ  of  tender  emotion," 
and  the  like  :  but  rather  the  inmost  sanctuary  of  personal  being, 
the  synthesis  of  its  love  and  will,  the  very  source  of  its  energy 
and  life.  The  mystic  is  "  in  love  with  the  Absolute  "  not  in  any 
idle  or  sentimental  manner,  but  in  that  deep  and  vital  sense  which 
presses  forward  at  all  costs  and  through  all  dangers  towards 
union  with  the  object  beloved.  Hence,  where  the  practice  of 
magic — like  the  practice  of  science — does  not  necessarily  entail 
any  passionate  emotion,  though  of  course  it  does  and  must 
entail  interest  of  some  kind,  mysticism,  like  art,  cannot  exist 
without  it.  We  must  feel,  and  feel  acutely,  before  we  want  to 
act  on  this  hard  and  heroic  scale. 

We  at  once  see  that  these  two  activities  correspond  to  the 
two  eternal  passions  of  the  self,  the  desire  of  love  and  the 
desire  of  knowledge :  severally  representing  the  hunger  of 
heart  and  intellect  for  ultimate  truth. 

The  third  attitude  towards  the  supersensual  world,  that  of 
transcendental  philosophy,  hardly  comes  within  the  scope 
of  the  present  inquiry ;  since  it  is  purely  academic  where  both 
magic  and  mysticism  are  practical,  and  in  their  methods  strictly 
empirical.  Such  philosophy  is  often  wrongly  called  mysticism 
because  it  tries  to  make  maps  of  the  countries  which  the  mystic 
explores.  Its  performances  are  useful,  as  diagrams  are  useful, 
so  long  as  they  do  not  ape  finality  ;  remembering  that  the  only 
final  thing  is  personal  experience — the  personal  exploration  of 
the  exalted  and  truth-loving  soul. 


86  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

What  then  do  we  really  mean  by  mysticism?  A  word 
which  is  impartially  applied  to  the  performances  of  mediums 
and  the  ecstasies  of  the  saints,  to  "  menticulture "  and  sorcery, 
dreamy  poetry  and  mediaeval  art,  to  prayer  and  palmistry,  the 
doctrinal  excesses  of  Gnosticism,  and  the  tepid  speculations  of 
the  Cambridge  Platonists — even,  according  to  William  James, 
to  the  higher  branches  of  intoxication * — soon  ceases  to  have 
any  useful  meaning.  Its  employment  merely  confuses  the 
inexperienced  student,  who  usually  emerges  from  his  struggle 
with  the  ever-increasing  mass  of  theosophical  and  psychical 
literature  possessed  by  a  vague  idea  that  every  kind  of  super- 
sensual  theory  and  practice  is  somehow  "mystical."  Hence 
it  is  necessary,  if  possible,  to  fix  its  true  characteristics:  to 
restate  the  fact  that  Mysticism,  in  its  pure  form,  is  the  science 
of  ultimates,  the  science  of  union  with  the  Absolute,  and 
nothing  else,  and  that  the  mystic  is  the  person  who  attains  to 
this  union,  not  the  person  who  talks  about  it.  Not  to  know 
about,  but  to  Be,  is  the  mark  of  the  real  practitioner. 

The  difficulty  lies  in  determining  the  point  at  which  super- 
sensual  experience  ceases  to  be  merely  a  practical  and  interest- 
ing extension  of  sensual  experience — an  enlarging,  so  to  speak, 
of  the  boundaries  of  existence  —  and  passes  over  into  that 
boundless  life  where  Subject  and  Object,  desirous  and  desired, 
are  one.  No  sharp  line,  but  rather  an  infinite  series  of  gradations 
separate  the  two  states.  Hence  we  must  look  carefully  at  all 
the  pilgrims  on  the  road  ;  discover,  if  we  can,  the  motive  of  their 
travels,  the  maps  which  they  use,  the  luggage  which  they  take, 
the  end  which  they  attain. 

Now  we  have  said  that  the  end  which  the  mystic  sets  before 
him  on  his  pilgrimage  is  conscious  union  with  a  living  Absolute. 
That  Divine  Dark,  that  Abyss  of  the  Godhead,  of  which  he 
sometimes  speaks  as  the  goal  of  his  quest,  is  just  this  Absolute, 
the  Uncreated  Light  in  which  the  Universe  is  bathed,  and  which 
— transcending,  as  it  does,  all  human  powers  of  expression — he 
can  only  describe  to  us  as  dark.  But  there  is — must  be — 
contact  "  in  an  intelligible  where  "  between  every  individual  self 
and  this  Supreme  Self,  this  All.  In  the  mystic  this  union  is 
conscious,  personal,  and  complete.     More  or  less  according  to 

1  See  "Varieties  of  Religious  Experience,"  p.  387,  "The  Drunken  Consciousness 
is  a  bit  of  the  Mystic  Consciousness." 


THE   CHARACTERISTICS  OP  MYSTICISM       87 

his  measure,  he  has  touched  the  substantial  Being  of  Deity,  not 
merely  its  manifestation  in  life.  This  it  is  which  distinguishes 
him  from  the  best  and  most  brilliant  of  other  men,  and  makes 
his  science,  in  Patmore's  words,  "  the  science  of  self-evident 
Reality."  Gazing  with  him  into  that  ultimate  Abyss,  that 
unsearchable  ground  whence  the  World  of  Becoming  comes 
forth  "  eternally  generated  in  an  eternal  Now,"  we  may  see  only 
the  icy  darkness  of  perpetual  negations  :  but  he  looks  upon  the 
face  of  Perfect  Love. 

Just  as  genius  in  any  of  the  arts  is — humanly  speaking — the 
final  term  of  a  power  of  which  each  individual  possesses  the 
rudiments,  so  mysticism  may  be  looked  upon  as  the  final  term, 
the  active  expression,  of  a  power  latent  in  the  whole  race :  the 
power,  that  is  to  say,  of  so  perceiving  transcendent  reality. 
Few  people  pass  through  life  without  knowing  what  it  is  to  be 
at  least  touched  by  this  mystical  feeling.  He  who  falls  in  love 
with  a  woman  and  perceives — as  the  lover  really  does  perceive 
— that  the  categorical  term  "  girl  "  veils  a  wondrous  and  un- 
speakable reality :  he  who,  falling  in  love  with  nature,  sees  the 
light  that  never  was  on  sea  or  land — a  vaguely  pretty  phrase  to 
those  who  have  not  seen  it,  but  a  scientific  statement  to  the 
rest — he  who  falls  in  love  with  invisible  things,  or  as  we  say 
"  undergoes  conversion  " :  all  these  have  truly  known  for  an 
instant  something  of  the  secret  of  the  world.1 


[.  .  .  Ever  and  anon  a  trumpet  sounds 
From  the  hid  battlements  of  Eternity, 
Those  shaken  mists  a  space  unsettle,  then 
Round  the  half-glimpsed  turrets  slowly  wash  again." 


At  such  moments  "Transcendental  Feeling,  welling  up  from 
another '  Part  of  the  Soul '  whispers  to  Understanding  and  Sense 
that  they  are  leaving  out  something.  What  ?  Nothing  less  than 
the  secret  plan  of  the  Universe.  And  what  is  that  secret  plan  ? 
The  other  '  Part  of  the  Soul '  indeed  comprehends  it  in  silence 
as  it  is,  but  can  explain  it  to  the  Understanding  only  in  the 
symbolical  language  of  the  interpreter,  Imagination — in  Vision."2 
-—  Here,  in  this  spark  or  "  part  of  the  soul "  is  the  fountain 

1  Compare  above,  pp.  24,  26,  57. 

2  T.  A.  Stewart,  "The  Myths  of  Plato,"  p.  42. 


88  AN   INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

alike  of  the  creative  imagination  and  the  mystic  life.  Now 
and  again  something  stings  it  into  consciousness,  and  man  is 
caught  up  to  the  spiritual  level,  catches  a  glimpse  of  the  "  secret 
plan."  Then  hints  of  a  marvellous  truth,  a  unity  whose  note  is 
ineffable  peace,  shine  in  created  things  ;  awakening  in  the  self  a 
sentiment  of  love,  adoration,  and  awe.  Its  life  is  enhanced,  the 
barrier  of  personality  is  broken,  man  escapes  the  sense-world, 
ascends  to  the  apex  of  his  spirit,  and  enters  for  a  brief  period 
into  the  more  extended  life  of  the  All. 

This  intuition  of  the  Real  lying  at  the  root  of  the  visible 
world  and  sustaining  its  life,  is  present  in  a  modified  form  in  the 
arts :  perhaps  it  were  better  to  say,  must  be  present  if  these 
arts  are  to  justify  themselves  as  heightened  forms  of  experience > 
It  is  this  which  gives  to  them  that  peculiar  vitality,  that  strange 
power  of  communicating  a  poignant  emotion,  half  torment  and 
half  joy,  which  baffle  their  more  rational  interpreters.  We 
know  that  the  picture  which  is  "  like  a  photograph,"  the  building 
which  is  at  once  handsome  and  commodious,  the  novel  which  is 
a  perfect  transcript  of  life,  fail  to  satisfy  us.  It  is  difficult  to 
say  why  this  should  be  so  unless  it  were  because  these  things 
have  neglected  their  true  business ;  which  was  not  to  reproduce 
the  illusions  of  ordinary  men  but  to  catch  and  translate  for  us 
something  of  that  "  secret  plan,"  that  reality  which  the  artistic 
consciousness  is  able,  in  a  measure,  to  perceive.  "  Painting 
as  well  as  music  and  poetry  exists  and  exults  in  immortal 
thoughts,"  says  Blake.1  That  "  life-enhancing  power "  which 
has  been  recognized  by  modern  critics  as  the  supreme  quality 
of  good  painting,2  has  its  origin  in  this  contact  of  the  artistic 
mind  with  the  archetypal — or,  if  you  like,  the  transcendental — 
world  :  the  underlying  verity  of  things. 

A  living  critic,  in  whom  poetic  genius  has  brought  about  the 
unusual  alliance  of  intuition  with  scholarship,  testifies  to  this 
same  truth  when  he  says  of  the  ideals  which  governed  early 
Chinese  painting,  "  In  this  theory  every  work  of  art  is  thought 
of  as  an  incarnation  of  the  genius  of  rhythm,  manifesting  the 
living  spirit  of  things  with  a  clearer  beauty  and  intenser  power 
than  the  gross  impediments  of  complex  matter  allow  to  be 
transmitted  to  our  senses  in  the  visible  world  around  us.     A 

1  "Descriptive  Catalogue." 

2  See  Rolleston,  "Parallel  Paths,"  1908. 


THE   CHARACTERISTICS  OF  MYSTICISM       89 

picture  is  conceived  as  a  sort  of  apparition  from  a  more  real 
world  of  essential  life?'* 

That  "more  real  world  of  essential  life  "  is  the  world  in  which 
the  "  free  soul "  of  the  great  mystic  dwells ;  hovering  like  the 
six-winged  seraph  before  the  face  of  the  Absolute.2  The  artist 
too  may  cross  its  boundaries  in  his  brief  moments  of  creation  : 
but  he  cannot  stay.  He  comes  back  to  us,  bearing  its  tidings, 
with  Dante's  cry  upon  his  lips — 

"...  Non  eran  da  cio  le  proprie  penne 
se  non  che  la  mia  mente  fu  percossa 
da  un  fulgore,  in  che  sua  voglia  venne."3 

The  mystic  may  say  —  is  indeed  bound  to  say  —  with 
St.  Bernard,  "My  secret  to  myself."  Try  how  he  will,  his 
stammering  and  awestruck  reports  can  hardly  be  understood 
but  by  those  who  are  already  in  the  way.  But  the  artist  cannot 
act  thus.  On  him  has  been  laid  the  duty  of  expressing  some- 
thing of  that  which  he  perceives.  He  is  bound  to  tell  his  love. 
In  his  worship  of  Perfect  Beauty  faith  must  be  balanced  by 
works.  By  means  of  veils  and  symbols  he  must  interpret  his 
free  vision,  his  glimpse  of  the  burning  bush,  to  other  men.  He 
is  the  mediator  between  his  brethren  and  the  divine,  for  art  is 
the  link  between  appearance  and  reality.4 

But  we  do  not  call  every  one  who  has  these  partial  and 
artistic  intuitions  of  reality  a  mystic,  any  more  than  we  call 
every  one  a  musician  who  has  learnt  to  play  the  piano.  The 
true  mystic  is  the  person  in  whom  such  powers  transcend  the 
merely  artistic  and  visionary  stage,  and  are  exalted  to  the  point 
of  genius :  in  whom  %  the  transcendental  consciousness  can 
dominate  the  normal  consciousness,  and  who  has  definitely 
surrendered  himself  to  the  embrace  of  Reality. 

As  artists  stand  in  a  peculiar  relation  to  the  phenomenal 
world,  receiving  rhythms  and  discovering  truths  and  beauties 

1  Laurence  Binyon,  "  Painting  in  the  Far  East,"  p.  9. 

2  "  The  Mirror  of  Simple  Souls,"  f.  141  C.  (B.M.  Add.  37790). 

3  Par.  xxxiii.  139.  "Not  for  this  were  my  wings  fitted  :  save  only  that  my  mind 
was  smitten  by  a  lightning  flash,  wherein  came  to  it  its  desire." 

4  In  this  connexion  Godfernaux  {Revue  Philosophique,  February,  1902)  has 
a  highly  significant  remark  to  the  effect  that  romanticism  represents  the  invasion 
of  secular  literature  by  mystic  or  religious  emotion.  It  is,  he  says,  the  secularization 
of  the  inner  life. 


90  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

which  are  hidden  from  other  men,  so  this  true  mystic  stands  in 
a  peculiar  relation  to  the  transcendental  world  ;  there  expe- 
riencing the  onslaught  of  what  must  remain  for  us  unimaginable 
delights.  His  consciousness  is  transfigured  in  a  particular  way, 
he  lives  at  different  levels  of  experience  from  other  people :  and 
this  of  course  means  that  he  sees  a  different  world,  since  the 
world  as  we  know  it  is  the  product  of  specific  scraps  or  aspects 
of  reality  acting  upon  a  normal  and  untransfigured  conscious- 
ness. Hence  his  mysticism  is  no  isolated  vision,  no  arbitrary 
glimpse  of  reality,  but  a  complete  system  of  life — a  Syntagma, 
to  use  Eucken's  expressive  term.  As  other  men  are  immersed 
in  and  react  to  natural  or  intellectual  life,  so  the  mystic  is 
immersed  in  and  reacts  to  spiritual  life.  He  moves  towards 
that  utter  identification  with  its  interests  which  he  calls  "  Union 
with  God."  He  has  been  called  a  lonely  soul.  He  might  more 
properly  be  described  as  a  lonely  body :  for  his  soul,  peculiarly  re- 
sponsive, sends  out  and  receives  communications  upon  every  side. 

The  earthly  artist,  because  perception  brings  with  it  the  im- 
perative longing  for  expression,  tries  to  give  us  in  colour,  sound 
or  words  a  hint  of  his  ecstasy,  his  glimpse  of  truth.  Only  those 
who  have  tried,  know  how  small  a  fraction  of  his  vision  he  can, 
under  the  most  favourable  circumstance,  contrive  to  represent. 
The  mystic  too  tries  very  hard  to  tell  an  unwilling  world  the 
only  secret.  But  in  his  case,  the  difficulties  are  enormously 
increased.  First,  there  is  the  huge  disparity  between  his  un- 
speakable experience  and  the  language  which  will  most  nearly 
approach  it.  Next,  there  is  the  great  gulf  fixed  between  his 
mind  and  the  mind  of  the  world.  His  audience  must  be  be- 
witched as  well  as  addressed,  caught  up  to  something  of  his 
state,  before  they  can  be  made  to  understand. 

Were  he  a  musician,  it  is  probable  that  he  could  give  his 
message  to  other  musicians  in  the  terms  of  that  art,  far  more 
accurately  than  language  will  ever  allow  him  to  do  :  for  we 
must  remember  that  there  is  no  excuse  but  that  of  convenience 
for  the  pre-eminence  amongst  modes  of  expression  which  we 
accord  to  words.  These  correspond  so  well  to  the  physical 
plane  and  its  adventures,  that  we  forget  that  they  have  but  the 
faintest  of  relations  with  transcendental  things.  Even  the 
artist,  before  he  can  make  use  of  them,  is  bound  to  re-arrange 
them  in  accordance  with  the  laws  of  rhythm :  obeying  uncon- 


! 


THE  CHARACTERISTICS  OF  MYSTICISM       91 

sciously  the  rule  by  which  all  arts  "  tend  to  approach  the  con- 
dition of  music." 

So  too  the  mystic.  Mysticism,  the  most  romantic  thing  in 
the  universe,  from  one  point  of  view  the  art  of  arts,  their  source 
and  also  their  end,  finds  naturally  enough  its  closest  correspon- 
dences in  the  most  purely  artistic  and  most  deeply  significant  of 
all  forms  of  expression.  The  mystery  of  music  is  seldom 
realized  by  those  who  so  easily  accept  its  gifts.  Yet  of  all  the 
arts  music  alone  shares  with  great  mystical  literature  the 
power  of  waking  us  to  response  to  the  life-movement  of  the 
universe :  brings  us — we  know  not  how — news  of  its  exultant 
passions  and  its  incomparable  peace.  Beethoven  heard  the 
very  voice  of  Reality,  and  little  of  it  escaped  when  he  translated 
it  for  our  ears.1 

The  mediaeval  mind,  more  naturally  mystical  than  ours, 
and  therefore  more  sharply  aware  of  the  part  which  rhythmic 
harmony  plays  in  the  worlds  of  nature  and  of  grace,  gave  to 
music  a  Cosmic  importance,  discerning  its  operation  in  many 
phenomena  which  we  now  attribute  to  that  dismal  figment, 
Law.  "There  are  three  kinds  of  music,"  says  Hugh  of  St. 
Victor,  "  the  music  of  the  worlds,  the  music  of  humanity,  the 
music  of  instruments.  Of  the  music  of  the  worlds,  one  is  of  the 
elements,  another  of  the  planets,  another  of  Time.  Of  that 
which  is  of  the  elements,  one  is  of  number,  another  of  weights, 
another  of  measure.  Of  that  which  is  of  the  planets,  one  is  of 
place,  another  of  motion,  another  of  nature.  Of  that  which  is  of 
Time,  one  is  of  the  days  and  the  vicissitudes  of  light  and  dark- 
ness ;  another  of  the  months  and  the  waxing  and  waning  of  the 
moon  ;  another  of  the  years  and  the  changes  of  spring,  summer, 
autumn  and  winter.  Of  the  music  of  humanity,  one  is  of  the 
body,  another  of  the  soul,  another  in  the  connexion  that  is 
between  them."2  Thus  the  life  of  the  visible  and  invisible 
universe  consists  in  a  supernal  fugue. 

1  Since  this  passage  was  written  M.  Hebert's  brilliant  monograph  "  Le  Divin  " 
(1907)  has  come  into  my  hands.  I  take  from  his  pages  two  examples  of  the  analogy 
between  mystical  and  musical  emotion.  First  that  of  Gay,  who  had  "  the  soul,  the 
heart,  and  the  head  full  of  music,  of  another  beauty  than  that  which  is  formulated  by 
sounds."  Next,  that  of  Ruysbroeck,  who,  in  a  passage  that  might  have  been  written 
by  Keats,  speaks  of  Contemplation  and  Love  as  "  two  heavenly  pipes  "  which,  blown 
upon  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  play  "  ditties  of  no  tone  "  {op.  cit.,  p.  29). 

8  Hugh  of  St.  Victor,  "  Didascalicon  de  Studio  Legendi." 


92  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

One  contemplative  at  least,  Richard  Rolle  of  Hampole,  "  the 
father  of  English  mysticism,"  was  acutely  aware  of  this  music 
of  the  soul,  discerning  in  its  joyous  periods  a  response  to  the 
measured  harmonies  of  the  spiritual  universe.  In  that  beautiful 
description  of  his  inward  experience  which  is  one  of  the  jewels 
of  mystical  literature,  nothing  is  more  remarkable  than  his  con- 
stant and  deliberate  employment  of  musical  imagery.  This 
alone,  it  seems,  could  catch  and  translate  for  him  the  wild 
rapture  of  Transcendent  Life.  The  condition  of  joyous  and 
awakened  love  to  which  the  mystic  passes  when  his  purification 
is  at  an  end,  is  to  him,  above  all  else,  the  state  of  Song.  He 
does  not  "  see  "  Reality :  he  "  hears  "  it.  For  him,  as  for  St. 
Francis  of  Assisi,  it  is  a  "  heavenly  melody,  intolerably  sweet."  « 

"  Song  I  call,"  he  says,  "  when  in  a  plenteous  soul  the  sweet- 
ness of  eternal  love  with  burning  is  taken,  and  thought  into 
song  is  turned,  and  the  mind  into  full  sweet  sound  is  changed."2 
He  who  experiences  this  joyous  exaltation  "says  not  his 
prayers  like  other  righteous  men "  but  "  is  taken  into  mar- 
vellous mirth  :  and,  goodly  sound  being  descended  into  him,  as 
it  were  with  notes  his  prayers  he  sings."  3  So  Gertrude  More — 
"O  lett  me  sitt  alone,  silent  to  all  the  world  and  it  to  me, 
that  I  may  learn  the  song  of  Love."  4 

Rolle's  own  experience  of  mystic  joy  seems  actually  to  have 
come  to  him  in  this  form :  the  perceptions  of  his  exalted  con- 
sciousness presenting  themselves  to  his  understanding  under 
musical  conditions,  as  other  mystics  have  received  them  in  the 
form  of  pictures  or  words.  I  give  in  his  own  words  the  charming 
account  of  his  passage  from  the  first  state  of  "  burning  love  "  to 
the  second  state  of  "songful  love" — from  Calor  to  Canor — 
when  "  into  song  of  joy  meditation  is  turned."  "  In  the  night, 
before  supper,  as  I  my  psalms  sung,  as  it  were  the  sound  of 
readers  or  rather  singers  about  me  I  beheld.  Whilst  also, 
praying  to  heaven,  with  all  desire  I  took  heed,  suddenly,  in  what 

1  "Fioretti."    Delle  Istimati.  (Arnold's  translation.) 

2  Richard  Rolle,  "The  Fire  of  Love  "(Early  English  Text  Society),  bk.  i. 
cap.  xv.  As  the  Latin  version  of  the  "  Incendium  Amoris"  unfortunately  still 
remains  in  MS.,  in  this  and  subsequent  quotations  from  Rolle  I  have  adopted  Misyn's 
fifteenth  -  century  translation,  slightly  modernizing  the  spelling,  and  sometimes 
correcting  from  the  Latin  his  somewhat  obscure  language. 

3  Op.  cit.,  bk.  i.  cap.  xxiii.     Compare  bk.  ii.  caps.  v.  and  vi. 
♦  "  Spiritual  Exercises,"  p.  30. 


THE   CHARACTERISTICS   OF  MYSTICISM        93 

manner  I  wot  not,  in  me  the  sound  of  song  I  felt ;  and  likeliest 
heavenly  melody  I  took,  with  me  dwelling  in  mind.  Forsooth 
my  thought  continually  to  mirth  of  song  was  changed  :  and  as 
it  were  the  same  that  loving  I  had  thought,  and  in  prayers  and 
psalms  had  said,  in  sound  I  showed."  x 

The  song,  however,  is  a  mystic  melody  having  little  in 
common  with  its  clumsy  image,  earthly  music.  Bodily  song 
"  lets  it " ;  and  "  noise  of  janglers  makes  it  turn  again  to 
thought,"  "  for  sweet  ghostly  song  accords  not  with  outward 
song,  the  which  in  churches  and  elsewhere  is  used.  It  discords 
much  :  for  all  that  is  man's  voice  is  formed  with  bodily  ears  to 
be  heard  ;  but  among  angels  tunes  it  has  an  acceptable  melody, 
and  with  marvel  it  is  commended  of  them  that  have  known 
it."  To  others  it  is  incommunicable.  "  Worldly  lovers  soothly 
words  or  ditties  of  our  song  may  know,  for  the  words  they 
read :  but  the  tone  and  sweetness  of  that  song  they  may  not 
learn."  2 

Such  symbolism  as  this — a  living  symbolism  of  experience 
and  action  as  well  as  of  statement — seems  almost  essential  to 
mystical  expression.  The  mind  must  employ  some  device  of 
the  kind  if  its  transcendental  perceptions — wholly  unrelated  as 
they  are  to  the  phenomena  with  which  intellect  is  able  to  deal — 
are  ever  to  be  grasped  by  the  surface  consciousness.  Some- 
times the  symbol  and  the  perception  which  it  represents  become 
fused  in  that  consciousness  ;  and  the  mystic's  experience  then 
presents  itself  to  him  as  "  visions  "  or  "  voices  "  which  we  must 
look  upon  as  the  garment  he  has  himself  provided  to  veil  that 
Reality  upon  which  no  man  may  look  and  live.  The  nature  of 
this  garment  will  be  largely  conditioned  by  his  temperament — as 
in  Rolle's  evident  bias  towards  music,  St.  Catherine  of  Genoa's 
leaning  towards  the  abstract  conceptions  of  fire  and  light — and 
also  by  his  theological  education  and  environment ;  as  in  the 
highly  dogmatic  visions  and  auditions  of  St.  Gertrude,  Suso,  St. 
Catherine  of  Siena,  the  Blessed  Angela  of  Foligno ;  above  all 

1  Op.  cit.y  bk.  i.  cap.  xvi. 

2  Op.  cit. ,  bk.  ii.  caps.  iii.  and  xii.     Shelley  is  of  the  same  opinion  : — 

"The  world  can  hear  not  the  sweet  notes  that  move 
The  Sphere  whose  light  is  melody  to  lovers." 

("  The  Triumph  of  Life.") 


94  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

of  St.  Teresa,  whose  marvellous  self-analyses  provide  the  classic 
account  of  these  attempts  of  the  mind  to  translate  transcen-* 
dental  intuitions  into  concepts  with  which  it  can  deal. 

The  greatest  mystics,  however — Ruysbroeck,  St.  John  of  the 
Cross,  and  St.  Teresa  herself  in  her  later  stages — distinguish 
clearly  between  the  indicible  Reality  which  they  perceive  and 
the  image  under  which  they  describe  it.  Again  and  again  they 
tell  us  with  Dionysius  and  Eckhart,  that  the  Object  of  their 
contemplation  "  hath  no  image  "  :  or  with  St.  John  of  the  Cross 
that  "  the  soul  can  never  attain  to  the  height  of  the  divine  union, 
so  far  as  it  is  possible  in  this  life,  through  the  medium  of  any 
forms  or  figures."  *  Therefore  the  attempt  which  has  sometimes 
been  made  to  identify  mysticism  with  such  forms  and  figures — 
with  visions,  voices,  and  "  supernatural  favours  "  —  is  clearly 
wrong. 

"  The  highest  and  most  divine  things  which  it  is  given  us  to 
see  and  to  know,"  says  Dionysius  the  Areopagite  plainly,  "  are 
in  some  way  the  expression  of  all  That  which  the  sovereign 
Nature  of  God  includes:  an  expression  which  reveals  to  us 
That  which  escapes  all  thought  and  which  has  its  seat  beyond 
the  heights  of  heaven."2 

The  mystic,  as  a  rule,  cannot  wholly  do  without  symbol  and 
image,  inadequate  to  his  vision  though  they  must  always  be: 
for  his  experience  must  be  expressed  if  it  is  to  be  communi- 
cated, and  its  actuality  is  inexpressible  except  in  some  side-long 
way,  some  hint  or  parallel  which  will  stimulate  the  dormant 
intuition  of  the  reader,  and  convey,  as  all  poetic  language  does, 
something  beyond  its  surface  sense.  Hence  the  enormous  part 
which  is  played  in  all  mystical  writings  by  symbolism  and 
imagery;  and  also  by  that  rhythmic  and  exalted  language 
which  induces  in  sensitive  persons  something  of  the  languid 
ecstasy  of  dream.  The  close  connection  between  rhythm 
and  heightened  states  of  consciousness  is  as  yet  little 
understood.  Its  further  investigation  will  probably  throw 
much  light  on  ontological  as  well  as  psychological  problems. 
Mystical,  no  less  than  musical  and  poetic  perception,  tends 
naturally — we  know  not  why — to  present  itself  in  rhythmical 

1  "  Subida  del  Monte  Carmelo,"  1.  ii.  cap.  xvi.     (Here  and  throughout  I  quote 
from  Lewis's  translation.) 

2  "  De  Mystica  Theologia,"  i.  3. 


THE  CHARACTERISTICS  OF  MYSTICISM       95 

periods :  a  feature  which  is  also  strongly  marked  in  writings 
obtained  in  the  automatic  state.  So  constant  is  this  law  in 
some  subjects  that  Baron  von  Hiigel,  in  his  biography  of  St 
Catherine  of  Genoa,  has  adopted  the  presence  or  absence  of 
rhythm  as  a  test  whereby  to  distinguish  the  genuine  utterances 
of  the  saint  from  those  wrongly  attributed  to  her  by  successive 
editors  of  her  legend.1 

All  kinds  of  symbolic  language  come  naturally  to  the 
articulate  mystic,  who  is  usually  a  literary  artist  as  well :  so 
naturally,  that  he  sometimes  forgets  to  explain  that  his  utter- 
ance is  but  symbolic  ;  a  desperate  attempt  to  translate  the 
truth  of  that  world  into  the  beauty  of  this.  It  is  here  that 
mysticism  joins  hands  with  music  and  poetry  :  had  this  fact 
always  been  recognized  by  its  critics,  they  would  have  been 
saved  from  many  regrettable  and  some  ludicrous  misconceptions. 
Symbol — the  clothing  which  the  spiritual  borrows  from  the 
material  plane — is  a  form  of  artistic  expression.  That  is  to 
say,  it  is  not  literal  but  suggestive :  though  the  artist  who  uses 
it  may  sometimes  lose  sight  of  this  distinction.  Hence  the 
persons  who  imagine  that  the  "  Spiritual  Marriage "  of  St. 
Catherine  or  St.  Teresa  veils  a  perverted  sexuality,  that  the 
vision  of  the  Sacred  Heart  involved  an  incredible  anatomical 
experience,  or  that  the  divine  inebriation  of  the  Sufis  is  the 
apotheosis  of  drunkenness,  do  but  advertise  their  ignorance  of 
the  mechanism  of  the  arts :  like  the  lady  who  thought  that 
Blake  must  be  mad  because  he  said  that  he  had  touched  the 
sky  with  his  finger. 

Further,  the  study  of  the  mystics,  the  keeping  company  how- 
ever humbly  with  their  minds,  brings  with  it  as  music  or  poetry 
does — but  in  a  far  greater  degree — a  strange  exhilaration,  as  if 
we  were  brought  near  to  some  mighty  source  of  Being,  were  at 
last  on  the  verge  of  the  secret  which  all  seek.  The  symbols 
displayed,  the  actual  words  employed,  when  we  analyse  them, 
are  not  enough  to  account  for  such  effect.  It  is  rather  that 
these  messages  from  the  waking  transcendental  self  of  another, 
stir  our  own  deeper  selves  in  their  sleep.  It  were  hardly  an 
extravagance  to  say,  that  those  writings  which  are  the  outcome 
of  true  and  first-hand  mystical  experience  may  be  known  by 
this  power  of  imparting  to  the  reader  the  sense  of  exalted  and 
1  Von  Hiigel,  "  The  Mystical  Element  in  Religion,"  vol.  i.  p.  189. 


96  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

extended  life.  "  All  mystics,"  says  Saint-Martin,  "  speak  the 
same  language,  for  they  come  from  the  same  country."  The 
deep  undying  life  which  nests  within  us  came  from  that  country 
too :  and  it  recognizes  the  accents  of  home,  though  it  cannot 
always  understand  what  they  would  say. 

Now,  returning  to  our  original  undertaking,  that  of  defining 
if  we  can  the  characteristics  of  true  mysticism,  I  think  that 
we  have  already  reached  a  point  at  which  William  James's  cele- 
brated "  four  marks"  of  the  mystic  state,1  Ineffability,  Noetic 
Quality,  Transiency,  and  Passivity,  will  fail  to  satisfy  us.  In 
their  place  I  propose  to  set  out,  illustrate  and,  I  hope,  justify 
four  other  rules  or  notes  which  may  be  applied  as  tests  to  any 
given  case  which  claims  to  take  rank  amongst  the  mystics. 

1.  True  mysticism  is  active  and  practical,  not  passive  and 
theoretical.  It  is  an  organic  life-process,  a  something  which 
the  whole  self  does  ;  not  something  as  to  which  its  intellect 
holds  an  opinion. 

2.  Its  aims  are  wholly  transcendental  and  spiritual.  It  is 
in  no  way  concerned  with  adding  to,  exploring,  re-arranging, 
or  improving  anything  in  the  visible  universe.  The  mystic 
brushes  aside  that  universe  even  in  its  most  supernormal  mani- 
festations. Though  he  does  not,  as  his  enemies  declare,  neglect 
his  duty  to  the  many,  his  heart  is  always  set  upon  the  change- 
less One. 

3.  This  One  is  for  the  mystic,  not  merely  the  Reality  of  all 
that  is,  but  also  a  living  and  personal  Object  of  Love  ;  never 
an  object  of  exploration.  It  draws  his  whole  being  homeward, 
but  always  under  the  guidance  of  the  heart. 

4.  Living  union  with  this  One — which  is  the  term  of  his 
adventure — is  a  definite  state  or  form  of  enhanced  life.  It  is 
obtained  neither  from  an  intellectual  realization  of  its  delights, 
nor  from  the  most  acute  emotional  longings.  Though  these 
must  be  present,  they  are  not  enough.  It  is  arrived  at  by  a 
definite  and  arduous  psychological  process — the  so-called  Mystic 
Way— entailing  the  complete  remaking  of  character  and  the 
liberation  of  a  new,  or  rather  latent,  form  of  consciousness, 
which  imposes  on  the  self  the  condition  which  is  sometimes 
inaccurately  called  "  ecstasy,"  but  is  better  named  the  Unitive 
State. 

*  "  Varieties  of  Religious  Experience,"  p.  380. 


THE   CHARACTERISTICS   OF  MYSTICISM       97 

Mysticism,  then,  is  not  an  opinion  :  it  is  not  a  philosophy. 
It  has  nothing  in  common  with  the  pursuit  of  occult  know- 
ledge. It  is  not  merely  the  power  of  contemplating  Eternity. 
It  is  the  name  of  that  organic  process  which  involves  the  perfect 
consummation  of  the  Love  of  God :  the  achievement  here  and 
now  of  the  immortal  heritage  of  man.  Or,  if  you  like  it  better 
— for  this  means  exactly  the  same  thing — it  is  the  art  of 
establishing  his  conscious  relation  with  the  Absolute. 

The  movement  of  mystic  consciousness  towards  this  con- 
summation, is  not  merely  the  sudden  admission  to  an  over- 
whelming vision  of  Truth :  it  is  rather  an  ordered  movement 
towards  ever  higher  levels  of  reality,  ever  closer  identification 
with  the  Infinite.  "The  mystic  experience,"  says  Recejac, 
"ends  with  the  words,  '  I  live,  yet  not  I,  but  God  in  me.'  This 
feeling  of  identification,  which  is  the  term  of  mystical  activity, 
has  a  very  important  significance.  In  its  early  stages  the 
mystic  consciousness  feels  the  Absolute  in  opposition  to  the 
Self  ...  as  mystic  activity  goes  on,  it  tends  to  abolish  this 
opposition.  .  .  .  When  it  has  reached  its  term  the  consciousness 
finds  itself  possessed  by  the  sense  of  a  Being  at  one  and  the 
same  time  greater  than  the  Self  and  identical  with  it :  great 
enough  to  be  God,  intimate  enough  to  be  me."  * 

This  is  the  mystic  union  which  is  the  only  possible  fulfil- 
ment of  mystic  love  :  since 

"  All  that  is  not  One  must  ever 
Suffer  with  the  wound  of  Absence, 
And  whoever  in  Love's  city 
Enters,  finds  but  room  for  One 
And  but  in  One-ness,  Union."2 

The  history  of  mysticism  is  the  history  of  the  demonstration 
of  this  law  upon  the  plane  of  reality. 

Now,  how  do  these  statements  square  with  the  practice  of 
the  great  mystics  ;  and  with  the  various  forms  of  activity  which 
have  been  classified  at  one  time  or  another  as  mystical  ? 

(i)  Mysticism  is  practical,  not  theoretical. 

This  statement  taken  alone  \?  not  of  course  enough  to 
identify  mysticism,  since  it  is  equally  true  of  magic,  which  also 

x  "  Les  Fondements  de  la  Connaissance  Mystique,"  p.  45. 
2  Jamf.     Quoted  in  "  Jelalu  'd  Din  "  (Wisdom  of  the  East  Series),  p.  25. 
H 


98  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

proposes  to  itself  something  to  be  done  rather  than  something 
to  be  believed.  It  at  once  comes  into  collision,  however,  with 
the  opinions  of  the  group  of  writers  who  believe  mysticism  to 
be  "  the  reaction  of  the  born  Platonist  upon  religion." 

The  difference  between  such  devout  philosophers  and 
the  true  mystic,  is  the  difference  which  the  late  Father 
Tyrrell  defined  as  separating  theology  from  revelation.1 
Mysticism,  like  revelation,  is  final  and  personal.  It  is 
not  merely  a  beautiful  and  suggestive  diagram  of  experience, 
but  is  of  the  very  stuff  of  life.  In  the  superb  words  of 
Plotinus,  it  is  the  soul's  solitary  adventure :  "  the  flight  of 
the  Alone  to  the  Alone."2  Its  vision  provides  the  material, 
the  substance,  the  actual  experience,  upon  which  mystical 
philosophy  cogitates ;  as  the  theologians  cogitate  upon  the 
individual  revelations  which  form  the  basis  of  faith.  Hence 
those  whom  we  are  to  accept  as  mystics  must  have  received, 
and  acted  upon,  intuitions  of  a  Truth  which  is  for  them  absolute. 
If  we  are  to  acknowledge  that  they  "knew  the  doctrine" 
they  must  have  "  lived  the  life,"  submitted  to  the  interior 
travail  of  the  Mystic  Way,  not  merely  have  reasoned  about 
the  mystical  experiences  of  others.  We  could  not  well, 
dispense  with  our  Christian  Platonists  and  mystical  philoso- 
phers. They  are  our  stepping  stones  to  higher  things ; 
interpret  to  our  dull  minds,  entangled  in  the  sense-world, 
the  ardent  vision  of  those  who  speak  to  us  from  the  dimension 
of  Reality.  But  they  are  no  more  mystics  than  the  mile- 
stones on  the  Dover  Road  are  travellers  to  Calais.  Some- 
times their  words — the  wistful  words  of  those  who  know  but 
cannot  be — produce  mystics ;  as  the  sudden  sight  of  a  sign- 
post pointing  to  the  sea  will  rouse  the  spirit  of  adventure 
in  a  boy.  Also  there  are  many  instances  of  true  mystics, 
such  as  Eckhart,  who  have  philosophized  upon  their  own 
experiences,  greatly  to  the  advantage  of  the  world  ;  and  others 
— Plotinus  is  the  most  characteristic  example — of  Platonic 
philosophers  who  have  passed  far  beyond  the  limits  of  their 
own  philosophy,  and  abandoned  the  making  of  diagrams  for 
an  experience,  however  imperfect,  of  the  reality  at  which 
these  diagrams   hint.     It  were   more   accurate   to   reverse  the 

1  "  Through  Scylla  and  Charybdis,"  p.  264. 

2  Ennead  vi.  9. 


THE   CHARACTERISTICS    OF  MYSTICISM        99 

epigram    above    stated,   and    say,   that    Platonism    is   the   re- 
action of  the  born  intellectualist  upon  mystical  truth. 

Over  and  over  again  the  great  mystics  tell  us,  not  how 
they  speculated,  but  how  they  acted.  To  them,  the  passage 
from  the  life  of  sense  to  the  life  of  spirit  is  a  veritable  under- 
taking, which  demands  effort  and  constancy.  The  paradoxical 
"quiet"  of  the  contemplative  is  but  the  outward  stillness 
essential  to  inward  work.  Their  favourite  symbols  are  those 
of  action :  battle,  search,  and  pilgrimage. 

"  In  an  obscure  night 
Fevered  with  love's  anxiety 
(O  hapless,  happy  plight  !) 
I  went,  none  seeing  me, 
Forth  from  my  house,  where  all  things  quiet  be,"* 

said  St.  John  of  the  Cross,  in  his  poem  of  the  mystic  quest. 

"  It  became  evident  to  me,"  says  Al  Ghazzali  of  his 
own  search  for  mystic  truth,  "  that  the  Sufis  are  men  of 
intuition  and  not  men  of  words.  I  recognized  that  I  had 
learnt  all  that  can  be  learnt  of  Sufiism  by  study,  and  that 
the  rest  could  not  be  learnt  by  study  or  by  speech."3  "Let 
no  one  suppose,"  says  the  "  Theologia  Germanica,"  "  that  we 
may  attain  to  this  true  light  and  perfect  knowledge  ...  by 
hearsay,  or  by  reading  and  study,  nor  yet  by  high  skill  and 
great  learning." 3  "It  is  not  enough,"  says  Gerlac  Petersen, 
"  to  know  by  estimation  merely  :  but  we  must  know  by 
experience."  4 

So  Mechthild  of  Magdeburg  says  of  vher  revelations,  "  The 
writing  of  this  book  was  seen,  heard,  and  experienced  in 
every  limb.  ...  I  see  it  with  the  eyes  of  my  soul,  and  hear 
it  with  the  ears  of  my  eternal  spirit."  5 

"  The  invitation  of  the  mystic  life  is  to  come  and  see*  the 
promise  of  the  mystic  life  is  that  we  shall  attain  to  see."6 
Those  who  suppose  it  to  be  merely  a  pleasing  consciousness 

x  "  En  una  Noche  Escura,"  Stanza   I.     I  quote  from   Mr.    Arthur  Symons's 
beautiful  translation,  which  will  be  found  in  vol,  ii.  of  his  Collected  Poems. 

2  Schmolders,  "  Les  Ecoles  Philosophiques  chez  les  Arabes,"  p.  55. 

3  Cap.  xix. 

4  "  Ignitum  cum  Deo  Soliloquium, "  cap.  xi. 

5  "  Das  Fliessende  Licht  der  Gottheit,"  pt.  iv.  cap.  13. 

6  A.  E.  Waite,  "Studies  in  Mysticism,"  p.  53. 


100  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

of  the  Divine  in  the  world,  a  sense  of  the  "otherness"  of 
things,  a  basking  in  the  beams  of  the  Uncreated  Light,  are 
only  playing  with  Reality.  True  mystical  achievement  is  the 
most  complete  and  most  difficult  expression  of  life  which  is 
as  yet  possible  to  man.  It  is  at  once  an  act  of  love,  an 
act  of  union,  and  an  act  of  supreme  perception ;  a  trinity  of 
experiences  which  meets  and  satisfies  the  three  activities  of 
the  self.  Religion  might  give  us  the  first  and  metaphysics 
the  third  of  these  processes.  Only  Mysticism  can  offer  the 
middle  term  of  the  series ;  the  essential  link  which  binds  the 
three  in  one.  "  Secrets,"  says  St.  Catherine  of  Siena,  "  are 
revealed  to  a  friend  who  has  become  one  thing  with  his  friend 
and  not  to  a  servant."  x 

(2)  Mysticism  is  an  entirely  Spiritual  Activity. 

This  rule  provides  us  with  a  further  limitation,  which  of 
course  excludes  all  the  practisers  of  magic  and  of  magical 
religion  :  even  in  their  most  exalted  and  least  materialistic 
forms.  As  we  shall  see  when  we  come  to  consider  these 
persons,  their  object — not  necessarily  an  illegitimate  one — is  to 
improve  and  elucidate  the  visible  by  help  of  the  invisible :  to 
use  the  supernormal  powers  of  the  self  for  the  increase  of 
power,  virtue,  happiness  or  knowledge.  The  mystic  never  turns 
back  on  himself  in  this  way,  or  tries  to  combine  the  advant- 
ages of  two  worlds.  At  the  term  of  his  development  he  knows 
God  by  communion,  and  this  direct  intuition  of  the  Absolute 
kills  all  lesser  cravings.  He  possesses  God,  and  needs  nothing 
more.  Though  he  will  spend  himself  ceaselessly  and  tirelessly 
for  other  men,  become  "an  agent  of  the  Eternal  Goodness," 
he  is  destitute  of  supersensual  ambitions,  craves  no  occult 
knowledge  or  power.  Having  his  eyes  set  on  eternity,  his 
consciousness  steeped  in  it,  he  can  well  afford  to  tolerate  the 
entanglements  of  time.  "His  spirit,"  says  Tauler,  "is  as  it 
were  sunk  and  lost  in  the  Abyss  of  the  Deity,  and  loses  the 
consciousness  of  all  creature-distinctions.  All  things  are 
gathered  together  in  one  with  the  divine  sweetness,  and  the 
man's  being  is  so  penetrated  with  the  divine  substance  that 
he  loses  himself  therein,  as  a  drop  of  water  is  lost  in  a  cask 
of  strong  wine.  And  thus  the  man's  spirit  is  so  sunk  in  God 
in  divine  union,  that  he  loses  all  sense  of  distinction  .  .  .  and 

1  Dialogo,  cap.  Ix. 


THE  CHARACTERISTICS  OF  MYSTICISM      101 

there  remains  a  secret,  still  union,  without  cloud  or  colour."1 
"  1  wish  not,"  said  St.  Catherine  of  Genoa,  "  for  anything  that 
comes  forth  from  Thee,  but  only  for  Thee,  oh  sweetest  Love  !  "  - 
8  The  Soul,"  says  Plotinus  in  one  of  his  most  profound 
passages,  "having  now  arrived  at  the  desired  end,  and  par- 
ticipating of  Deity,  will  know  that  the  Supplier  of  true  life 
is  then  present.  She  will  likewise  then  require  nothing  farther ; 
for,  on  the  contrary  it  will  be  requisite  to  lay  aside  other 
things,  to  stop  in  this  alone,  amputating  everything  else  with 
which  she  is  surrounded."  3 

(3)   The  business  and  method  of  Mysticism  is  Love. 

Here  is  one  of  the  most  distinctive  notes  of  true  mysticism  ; 
a  note  which  marks  it  off  from  every  other  kind  of  tran- 
scendental theory  and  practice,  arid  provides  the  answer  to  the 
question  with  which  our  last  chapter  closed.  It  is  the  eager, 
outgoing  activity  whose  driving  power  is  generous  love,  not  the 
absorbent,  indrawing  activity  which  strives  only  for  new  know- 
ledge, that  is  fruitful  in  the  spiritual  as  well  as  in  the  physical 
world. 

Having  said  this,  however,  we  must  add — as  we  did  when 
speaking  of  the  "  heart  " — that  the  word  Love  as  applied  to  the  } 
mystics  is  to  be  understood  in  its  deepest,  fullest  sense ;  as  the  / 
ultimate  expression  of  the  self's  most  vital  tendencies,  not  as 
the  superficial  affection  or  emotion  often  dignified  by  this  name. 
Mystic  Love  is  the  offspring  of  the  Celestial  Venus ;  the  deep- 
seated  desire  and  tendency  of  the  soul  towards  its  source.4  It 
is  a  condition  of  humble  access,  a  life-movement  of  the  self: 
more  direct  in  its  methods,  more  valid  in  its  results, — even  in  the 
hands  of  the  least  lettered  of  its  adepts — than  the  most  piercing 
intellectual  vision  of  the  greatest  philosophic  mind.  Over  and 
over  again  the  mystics  insist  upon  this.  "  For  silence  is  not 
God,  nor  speaking  is  not  God  ;  fasting  is  not  God  nor  eating  is 
not  God  ;  onliness  is  not  God  nor  company  is  not  God ;  nor 
yet  any  of  all  the  other  two  such  quantities.  He  is  hid  between 
them,  and  may  not  be  found  by  any  work  of  thy  soul,  but  all  ! 
only  by  love  of  thine  heart.  He  may  not  be  known  by  reason, 
He  may  not  be  gotten  by  thought,  nor  concluded  by  under- 

1  Tauler,  Sermon  lor  Septuagesima  Sunday  (Winkworth's  translation,  p.  253). 

2  Vita  e  Dottrina,  cap.  vi.  3  Ennead  vi.  9. 
4  Plotinus,  loc.  cit. 


102  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

standing ;  but  he  may  be  loved  and  chosen  with  the  true  lovely- 
will  of  thine  heart.  .  .  .  Such  a  blind  shot  with  the  sharp  dart 
of  longing  love  may  never  fail  of  the  prick,  the  which  is 
God."  * 

"  Come  down  quickly,"  says  the  Incomprehensible  Godhead 
to  the  soul  that  has  struggled  like  Zacchaeus  to  the  topmost 
branches  of  the  theological  tree,  "  for  I  would  dwell  with  you 
to-day.  And  this  swift  descent  which  God  demands  is  simply 
an  immersion  by  love  and  desire  in  that  abyss  of  the  God- 
head which  the  intellect  cannot  understand.  Here,  where 
the  intelligence  must  rest  without,  love  and  desire  can 
enter  in."  2 

One  might  compile  volumes  of  extracts  from  the  works  of 
the  mystics  illustrative  of  this  rule,  which  is  indeed  its  central 
principle ;  for  "  Love,"  says  Rolle,  "  truly  suffers  not  a  loving 
soul  to  bide  in  itself,  but  ravishes  it  out  to  the  Lover,  that  the 
soul  is  more  there  where  it  loves,  than  where  the  body  is  that 
lives  and  feels  it."  "  Oh  singular  joy  of  love  everlasting,"  he 
says  again,  "that  ravishes  all  his  to  heavens  above  all  worlds, 
them  binding  with  bands  of  virtue  !  Oh  dear  charity,  in  earth 
that  has  thee  not  is  nought  wrought,  whatever  it  hath !  He 
truly  in  thee  that  is  busy,  to  joy  above  earthly  is  soon  lifted ! 
.  .  .  Oh  merry  love,  strong,  ravishing,  burning,  wilful,  strong, 
unslaked,  that  all  my  soul  brings  to  thy  service,  and  suffers  to 
think  on  nothing  but  thee.  .  .  .  Oh  clear  charity,  come  into  me 
and  take  me  into  thee,  and  so  present  me  before  my  Maker. 
Thou  art  a  savour  well  tasting,  sweetness  well  smelling,  a 
pleasing  odour,  a  cleansing  heat,  a  comfort  endlessly  lasting. 
Thou  makest  men  contemplative,  heaven-gate  thou  openest, 
mouths  of  accusers  thou  dost  shut,  God  thou  makest  to  be  seen 
and  multitude  of  sins  thou  hidest.  We  praise  thee,  we  preach 
thee,  by  thee  the  world  we  quickly  overcome,  by  whom  we  joy 
and  the  heavenly  ladder  we  ascend."  3 

Love  to  the  mystic,  then,  is  (a)  the  active,  conative  expres- 
sion  of  his   will   and  desire   for  the  Absolute,  (b)  his  innate 

1  "  An  Epistle  of  Discretion."  This  beautiful  old  English  tract,  probably  by  the 
author  of  the  "  Cloud  of  Unknowing,"  is  printed  by  E.  Gardner,  "The  Cell  of  Self 
Knowledge,"  p.   108. 

3  Ruysbroeck,  "  L'Ornement  des  Noces  Spirituelles,"  1.  i.  cap.  xxvi. 

3  "  The  Mending  of  Life,"  cap.  xi. 


THE   CHARACTERISTICS   OF  MYSTICISM      103 

tendency  to  that  Absolute :  his  spiritual  weight.  He  is  only 
thoroughly  natural,  thoroughly  alive,  when  he  is  obeying 
its  voice.  For  him  it  is  the  source  of  joy :  the  secret  of  the 
universe  :  the  vivifying  principle  of  things.  In  the  words  of 
Recejac,  "  Mysticism  claims  to  be  able  to  know  the  Unknowable 
without  any  help  from  dialectics  ;  and  believes  that,  by  the  way 
of  love  and  will,  it  reaches  a  point  to  which  thought  alone  is 
unable  to  attain."  Again,  "  It  is  the  heart  and  never  the  reason 
which  leads  us  to  the  Absolute." *  Hence  in  St.  Catherine  of 
Siena's  exquisite  allegory  it  is  the  feet  of  the  soul's  affection 
which  brings  it  first  to  the  Bridge,  "for  the  feet  carry  the  body 
as  affection  carries  the  soul."  2 

Page  after  page  of  the  jewels  of  mystical  literature  glow 
with  this  intimate  and  impassioned  love  of  the  Absolute  ;  which 
transcends  the  dogmatic  language  in  which  it  is  clothed  and 
become  applicable  to  mystics  of  every  race  and  creed.  There 
is  little  difference  in  this  between  the  extremes  of  Eastern  and 
Western  thought  :  between  A  Kempis  the  Christian  and 
Jelalu  'd  Din  the  Moslem  saint. 

"  How  great  a  thing  is  Love,  great  above  all  other  goods  : 
for  alone  it  makes  all  that  is  heavy  light,  and  bears  evenly  all 
that  is  uneven.  .  .  . 

"  Love  would  be  aloft,  nor  will  it  be  kept  back  by  any  lower 
thing.  Love  would  be  free,  and  estranged  from  all  worldly 
affection,  that  its  inward  sight  be  not  hindered  :  that  it  may  not 
be  entangled  by  any  temporal  comfort,  nor  succumb  to  any 
tribulation. 

"Nought  is  sweeter  than  love,  nought  stronger,  nought 
higher,  nought  wider :  there  is  no  more  joyous,  fuller,  better 
thing  in  heaven  or  earth.  For  love  is  born  of  God,  and  cannot 
rest  save  in  God,  above  all  created  things. 

"  The  lover  flies,  runs,  and  rejoices :  he  is  free,  and  cannot  be 
restrained.  He  gives  all  for  all,  and  has  all  in  all ;  for  he  rests 
in  One  Supreme  above  all,  from  whom  all  good  flows  and 
proceeds. 

"  He  looks  not  at  the  gift,  but  above  all  goods  turns  himself 
to  the  giver. 

".  .  .  He  who  loves  knows  the  cry  of  this  voice.     For  this 

1  "  Fondements  de  la  Connaissance  Mystique,"  p.  7. 

2  Dialogo,  cap.  xxvi. 


104  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

burning  affection  of  the  soul  is  a  loud  cry  in  the  ears  of  God 
when  it  saith  '  My  God,  My  Love,  Thou  art  all  mine,  and  I  am 
all  Thine.' "  « 

So  much  for  the  Christian.     Now  for  the  Persian  mystic. 

"  While  the  thought  of  the  Beloved  fills  our  hearts 
All  our  work  is  to  do  Him  service  and  spend  life  for  Him. 
Wherever  He  kindles  His  destructive  torch, 
Myriads  of  lovers'  souls  are  burnt  therewith. 
The  lovers  who  dwell  within  the  sanctuary 
Are  moths  burnt  with  the  torch  of  the  Beloved's  face, 
O  heart,  hasten  thither  !  for  God  will  shine  upon  you, 
And  seem  to  you  a  sweet  garden  instead  of  a  terror. 
He  will  infuse  into  your  soul  a  new  soul, 
So  as  to  fill  you,  like  a  goblet,  with  wine. 
Take  up  your  abode  in  His  Soul  ! 
Take  up  your  abode  in  heaven,  oh  bright  full  moon  ! 
Like  the  heavenly  Scribe,  He  will  open  your  heart's  book, 
That  he  may  reveal  mysteries  unto  you."2 

Well  might  Hilton  say  that  "Perfect  love  maketh  God 
and  the  soul  to  be  as  if  they  both  together  were  but  one 
thing,"  3  and  Tauler  that  "  the  well  of  life  is  love,  and  he  who 
dwelleth  not  in  love  is  dead."  4 

"When  I  love  God  with  my  will,  I  transform  myself  into 
Him,"  says  St.  Bernard,  "  for  this  is  the  power  or  virtue  ot 
love,  that  it  maketh  thee  to  be  like  unto  that  which  thou 
lovest" 5 

These,  nevertheless,  are  objective  and  didactic  utterances ; 
though  their  substance  may  be — probably  is — personal,  their 
form  is  not.  But  if  we  want  to  see  what  it  really  means  to  be 
"in  love  with  the  Absolute," — how  intensely  actual  to  the 
mystic  is  the  Object  of  his  passion,  how  far  removed  from  the 
sphere  of  pious  duty,  or  of  philosophic  speculation,  how  concrete, 
positive  and  dominant  such  a  passion  may  be — we  must  study 
the  literature  of  autobiography,  not  that  of  poetry  or  exhorta- 
tion. I  choose  for  this  purpose,  rather  than  the  well-known  self- 
analyses  of  St.  Augustine,  St.  Teresa  or  Suso,  which  are  acces- 

1  "  De  Imitatione  Christi,"  1.  iii.  cap.  v. 

a  "  Jelalu  'd  Din"  (Wisdom  of  the  East  Series),  p.  79. 

3  "The  Scale  of  Perfection, "  p.  339. 

4  Sermon  for  Thursday  in  Easter  week  (Winkworth's  translation,  p.  294). 
*  Quoted  in  the  "Soliloquies  of  St.  Bonaventura,"  ex.  i. 


THE   CHARACTERISTICS  OF  MYSTICISM      105 

sible  to  every  one,  the  more  private  confessions  of  that  remark- 
able and  neglected  mystic  Dame  Gertrude  More,  contained  in 
her  "Spiritual  Exercises." 

This  nun,  great-great-granddaughter  of  Sir  Thomas  More, 
and  favourite  pupil  of  the  celebrated  Benedictine  contemplative, 
the  Ven.  Augustine  Baker,  exhibits  the  romantic  and  personal 
side  of  mysticism  far  more  perfectly  than  even  St.  Teresa,  whose 
works  were  composed  for  her  daughters'  edification.  She  was 
an  eager  student  of  St.  Augustine,  "  my  deere  deere  Saint,"  as 
she  calls  him  more  than  once.  He  has  evidently  influenced  her 
language  ;  but  her  passion  is  her  own. 

Remember  that  Gertrude  More's  confessions  represent  the 
most  secret  conversations  of  her  soul  with  God.  They  were  not 
meant  for  publication  ;  but,  written  for  the  most  part  on  blank 
leaves  in  her  breviary,  were  discovered  and  published  after 
her  death.  "  She  called  them,"  says  the  title-page  with  touching 
simplicity,  "A mor  ordinem  nescit :  an  Ideot's  Devotions.  Her 
only  spiritual  father  and  directour,  Father  Baker,  styled  them 
Confessiones  Amantis,  A  Lover's  Confessions.  Amans  Deum 
anima  sub  Deo  despicit  universa.  A  soul  that  loveth  God 
despiseth  all  things  that  be  inferiour  unto  God."1 

The  spirit  of  her  little  book  is  summed  up  in  two  epigrams  : 
epigrams  of  which  her  contemporary,  Crashaw,  might  have  been 
proud.  "  To  give  all  for  love,  is  a  most  sweet  bargain."  2  "  O 
let  me  love,  or  not  live  !  "  3 — surely  a  nobler  concept  of  the 
devoirs  of  spiritual  chivalry  than  St.  Teresa's  more  celebrated 
and  uncompromising  alternative :  Aut  pati  aut  mori.  Love 
indeed  was  her  life  :  and  she  writes  of  it  with  a  rapture  which 
recalls  at  one  moment  St.  Francis  de  Sales,  at  another  the  love 
songs  of  the  Elizabethan  poets. 

"  Never  was  there  or  can  there  be  imagined  such  a  Love,  as  is 
between  an  humble  soul  and  thee.  Who  can  express  what 
passeth  between  such  a  soul  and  thee  ?  Verily  neither  man  nor 
Angell  is  able  to  do  it  sufficiently.  ...  In  thy  prayse  I  am  only 
happy,  in  which,  my  Joy,  I  will  exullt  with  all  that  love  thee. 
For  what  can  be  a  comfort  while  I  live  separated  from  thee,  but 
only  to  remember  that  my  God,  who  is  more  myne  than  I  am 

1  They  were  printed  in  1658,  "  At  Paris  by  Lewis  de  la  Fosse  in  the  Carme 
Street  at  the  Signe  of  the  Looking  Glasse."     I  quote  from  this  edition. 
a  P.  138.  3  p.  X8i. 


106  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

my  owne,  is  absolutely  and  infinitely  happy  ?  .  .  .  Out  of  this 
true  love  between  a  soul  and  thee,  there  ariseth  such  a  know- 
ledge in  the  soul  that  it  loatheth  all  that  is  an  impediment  to 
her  further  proceeding  in  the  Love  of  thee.  O  Love,  Love,  even 
by  naming  thee,  my  soul  loseth  itself  in  thee.  .  .  .  Nothing  can 
Satiate  a  reasonable  soul,  but  only  thou :  and  having  of  thee, 
who  art  indeed  all,  nothing  could  be  said  to  be  wanting  to  her. 
.  .  .  Blessed  are  the  cleane  of  hart  for  they  shall  see  God.  O  sight 
to  be  wished,  desired,  and  longed  for ;  because  once  to  have 
seen  thee  is  to  have  learnt  all  things.  Nothing  can  bring  us 
to  this  sight  but  love.  But  what  love  must  it  be  ?  not  a  sensible 
love  only,  a  childish  love,  a  love  which  seeketh  itself  more  than 
the  beloved.  No,  no,  but  it  must  be  an  ardent  love,  a  pure  love, 
a  couradgious  love,  a  love  of  charity,  an  humble  love,  and  a 
constant  love,  not  worn  out  with  labours,  not  daunted  with  any 
difficulties.  .  .  .  For  that  soul  that  hath  set  her  whole  love  and 
desire  on  thee,  can  never  find  any  true  satisfaction,  but  only  in 
thee."  i 

Who  will  not  see  that  we  have  here  no  literary  exercise,  but 
the  fruits  of  an  experience  of  peculiar  intensity?  It  answers 
exactly  to  one  of  the  best  modern  definitions  of  mysticism  as 
"  in  essence,  the  concentration  of  all  the  forces  of  the  soul  upon 
a  supernatural  Object,  conceived  and  loved  as  a  living  Person.''2 
"  Love  and  desire,"  says  the  same  critic,  "  are  the  fundamental 
necessities ;  and  where  they  are  absent  man,  even  though  he  be 
a  visionary,  cannot  be  called  a  mystic."  3  Such  a  definition,  of 
course,  is  not  complete.  It  is  valuable  however  because  it 
emphasizes  the  fact  that  all  true  mysticism  is  rooted  in  per- 
sonality ;  and  is  therefore  fundamentally  a  science  of  the  heart. 

"  The  passion  which  constrains  the  stars  "  also  constrains  that 
starry  thing,  the  soul.  Attraction,  desire,  and  uniom  as  the 
fulfilment  of  desire,  this  is  the  way  Life  works,  in  the  highest  as 
in  the  lowest  things.  The  mystic's  outlook,  indeed,  is  the  lover's 
outlook.  It  has  the  same  element  of  wildness,  the  same  quality 
of  selfless  and  quixotic  devotion,  the  same  combination  of 
rapture  and  humility.  This  parallel  is  more  than  a  pretty  fancy : 
for  mystic  and  lover,  upon  different  planes,  are  alike  responding 
to   the  call  of  the  Spirit  of  Life.     The   language   of  human 

1  Op.  cit.,  pp.  9,  i6, 25,  35,  138,  175. 

a  Berger,  *«  William  Blake,"  p.  72.  3  Ibid.,  p.  74. 


THE   CHARACTERISTICS   OF  MYSTICISM      107 

passion  is  tepid  and  insignificant  beside  the  language  in  which 
the  mystics  try  to  tell  the  splendours  of  their  love.  They  force 
upon  the  unprejudiced  reader  the  conviction  that  they  are  dealing 
with  an  ardour  far  more  burning  for  an  Object  far  more  real. 

"  This  monk  can  give  lessons  to  lovers  ! "  exclaimed  Arthur 
Symons  in  astonishment  of  St.  John  of  the  Cross.1  It  would  be 
strange  if  he  could  not ;  since  their  finite  passions  are  but  the 
feeble  images  of  his  infinite  one,  their  beloved  the  imperfect 
symbol  of  his  First  and  only  Fair.  "I  saw  Him  and  sought 
Him  :  I  had  Him  and  I  wanted  Him,"  says  Julian  of  Norwich, 
in  a  phrase  which  seems  to  sum  up  all  the  ecstasy  and  longing 
of  man's  soul.  Only  this  mystic  passion  can  lead  us  from  our 
prison.  Its  brother,  the  desire  of  knowledge,  may  enlarge  and 
improve  the  premises  to  an  extent  as  yet  undreamed  of:  but  it 
can  never  unlock  the  doors. 

(4)  Mysticism  entails  a  definite  Psychological  Experience. 

That  is  to  say,  it  shows  itself  not  merely  as  an  attitude  of 
mind  and  heart,  but  as  a  form  of  organic  life.  It  is  not  a  theory 
of  the  intellect  or  a  hunger,  however  passionate,  of  the  heart : 
but  a  definite  and  peculiar  development  of  the  whole  self,  con- 
scious and  unconscious,  under  the  spur  of  such  a  hunger :  a 
remaking  of  the  whole  character  on  high  levels  in  the  interests 
of  the  transcendental  life.  The  mystics  are  emphatic  in  their 
statement  that  spiritual  desires  are  useless  unless  they  involve 
the  movement  of  the  whole  self  towards  the  Real. 

Thus  in  the  visions  of  Mechthild  of  Magdeburg,  "  The  soul 
spake  thus  to  her  Desire,  '  Fare  forth  and  see  where  my  Love  is. 
Say  to  him  that  I  desire  to  love.'  So  Desire  sped  forth,  for  she 
is  quick  of  her  nature,  and  came  to  the  Empyrean  and  cried. 
Great  Lord,  open  and  let  me  in ! '  Then  said  the  House- 
holder of  that  place  :  '  What  means  this  fiery  eagerness  ?  ■ 
Desire  replied,  'Lord,  I  would  have  thee  know  that  my  lady 
can  no  longer  bear  to  live.  If  Thou  wouldst  flow  forth  to  her, 
then  might  she  swim  :  but  the  fish  cannot  long  exist  that  is  left 
stranded  on  the  shore.'  '  Go  back,'  said  the  Lord,  ■  I  will  not 
let  thee  in  unless  thou  bring  to  me  that  hungry  soul,  for  it  is  in 
this  alone  that  I  take  delight' "  3 

We  have  said3  that  the  full  mystic  consciousness  is  extended 

1  Contemporary  Review,  April,  1899. 

"  "Das  Fliessende  Licht  der  Gottheit,"  pt.  Hi.  cap.  1.  *  Supra,  p.  42. 


108  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

in  two  distinct  directions.  So  too  there  are  two  distinct  sides  to 
the  full  mystical  experience.  (A)  The  vision  or  consciousness 
of  Absolute  Perfection.  (B)  The  inward  transmutation  to 
which  that  Vision  compels  the  mystic,  in  order  that  he  may  be 
to  some  extent  worthy  of  that  which  he  has  beheld  :  may  take 
his  place  within  the  order  of  Reality.  He  has  seen  the  Perfect ; 
he  wants  to  be  perfect  too.  The  "  third  term,"  the  necessary 
bridge  between  the  Absolute  and  the  Self,  can  only,  he  feels,  be 
moral  and  spiritual  transcendence — in  a  word,  Sanctity — for  "the 
only  means  of  attaining  the  Absolute  lies  in  adapting  ourselves 
to  It."  z  The  moral  virtues  are  for  him,  then,  the  obligatory 
"  ornaments  of  the  Spiritual  Marriage  "  as  Ruysbroeck  called 
them  :  though  far  more  than  their  presence  is  needed  to  bring 
that  marriage  about.  Unless  this  impulse  for  moral  perfection 
be  born  in  him,  this  travail  of  the  inner  life  begun,  he  is  no 
mystic :  though  he  may  well  be  a  visionary,  a  prophet,  a 
l<  mystical "  poet. 

Moreover,  this  process  of  transmutation,  this  rebuilding  of 
the  self  on  higher  levels,  will  involve  the  establishment  within 
the  field  of  consciousness,  the  making  "  central  for  life,"  of  those 
subconscious  spiritual  perceptions  which  are  the  primary 
material  of  mystical  experience.  The  end  and  object  of  this 
"  inward  alchemy "  will  be  the  raising  of  the  whole  self  to  the 
condition  in  which  conscious  and  permanent  union  with  the 
Absolute  takes  place ;  and  man,  ascending  to  the  summit  of  his 
manhood,  enters  into  that  greater  life  for  which  he  was  made. 

In  its  journey  towards  this  union,  the  subject  passes  through 
certain  well-marked  phases,  which  constitute  what  is  known  as 
the  "  Mystic  Way."  This  statement  rules  out  from  the  true 
mystic  kingdom  all  merely  sentimental  and  affective  piety  and 
visionary  poetry,  no  less  than  mystical  philosophy.  It  brings 
us  back  to  our  first  proposition — the  concrete  and  practical 
nature  of  the  mystical  act. 

More  than  the  apprehension  of  God,  then,  more  than  the 
passion  for  the  Absolute,  is  needed  to  make  a  mystic.  These 
must  be  combined  with  an  appropriate  psychological  make-up, 
with  a  nature  capable  of  extraordinary  concentration,  an  exalted 
moral  emotion,  a  nervous  organization  of  the  artistic  type.  All 
these  are  necessary  to  the  successful  development  of  the  mystic 
1  R6c£jac,  op.  cit.  p.  35. 


THE   CHARACTERISTICS   OF  MYSTICISM      109 

life  process.  In  the  experience  of  the  mystics  who  have  left  us 
the  records  of  their  own  lives,  the  successive  stages  of  this  life 
process  are  always  traceable.  In  the  second  part  of  this  book, 
they  will  be  found  worked  out  at  some  length.  Rolle,  Suso, 
Madame  Guyon,  St.  Teresa,  and  many  others  have  left  us 
valuable  self-analyses  for  comparison  :  and  from  them  we  see 
how  arduous,  how  definite,  and  how  far  removed  from  mere 
emotional  or  intellectual  activity,  is  that  educational  discipline 
by  which  "  the  eye  which  looks  upon  Eternity  "  is  able  to  come 
to  its  own.  "  One  of  the  marks  of  the  true  mystic,"  says  Leuba, 
"  is  the  tenacious  and  heroic  energy  with  which  he  pursues  a 
definite  moral  ideal."  *  "  He  is,"  says  Pacheu,  "  the  pilgrim  of 
an  inward  Odyssey."2  Though  we  may  be  amazed  and 
delighted  by  his  adventures  and  discoveries  on  the  way,  to  him 
the  voyage  and  the  end  are  all.  "  The  road  on  which  we  enter  is 
a  royal  road  which  leads  to  heaven,"  says  St.  Teresa.  "  Is  it 
strange  that  the  conquest  of  such  a  treasure  should  cost  us 
rather  dear  ?  "  3 

It  is  one  of  the  many  indirect  testimonies  to  the  objective 
reality  of  mysticism  that  the  stages  of  this  road,  the  psychology 
of  the  spiritual  ascent,  as  described  to  us  by  different  schools  of 
contemplatives,  always  present  practically  the  same  sequence 
of  states.  The  "  school  for  saints  "  has  never  found  it  necessary 
to  bring  its  curriculum  up  to  date.  The  psychologist  finds  little 
difficulty,  for  instance,  in  reconciling  the  "  Degrees  of  Orison  " 
described  by  St.  Teresa  4 — Recollection,  Quiet,  Union,  Ecstasy, 
Rapt,  the  "  Pain  of  God,"  and  the  Spiritual  Marriage  of  the  soul 
— with  the  four  forms  of  contemplation  enumerated  by  Hugh  of 
St.  Victor,  or  the  Sufi's  "  Seven  Stages  "  of  the  soul's  ascent  to 
God,  which  begin  in  adoration  and  end  in  spiritual  marriage.5 
Though  each  wayfarer  may  choose  different  landmarks,  it  is 
clear  from  their  comparison  that  the  road  is  one. 

(5)  As  a  corollary  to  these  four  rules,  it  is  perhaps  well  to 
reiterate  the  statement  already  made,  that  True  Mysticism  is 
never  self-seeking.     It   is  not,   as  many  think,  the   pursuit   of 

1  Revue  Philosophique,  July,  1902. 

2  "  Psychologie  des  Mystiques  Chretiens,"  p.  14. 

3  **  Camino  de  Perfeccion,"  cap.  xxiii. 
«  In  "  El  Castillo  Interior." 

5  See  Palmer,  "  Oriental  Mysticism,"  pt.  v.  ch.  v. 


110  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO    MYSTICISM 

supernatural  joys  ;  the  satisfaction  of  a  high  ambition.  The 
mystic  does  not  enter  on  his  quest  because  he  desires  the 
happiness  of  the  Beatific  Vision,  the  ecstasy  of  union  with  the 
Absolute,  or  any  other  personal  reward. 

In  "that  strange,  extravagant,  and  heroic  character  which 
calls  itself  a  Christian  mystic," x  that  noblest  of  all  passions,  the 
passion  for  perfection  for  Love's  sake,  far  outweighs  the  desire 
for  transcendental  satisfaction.  "  O  Love,"  said  St.  Catherine  of 
Genoa,  "  I  do  not  wish  to  follow  thee  for  sake  of  these  delights, 
but  solely  from  the  motive  of  true  love."  2  Those  who  do  other- 
wise are  only,  in  the  plain  words  of  St.  John  of  the  Cross, 
"spiritual  gluttons  ":3  or,  in  the  milder  metaphor  here  adopted, 
magicians  of  the  more  high-minded  sort.  The  true  mystic 
claims  no  promises  and  makes  no  demands.  He  goes  because 
he  must,  as  Galahad  went  towards  the  Grail  :  knowing  that  for 
those  who  can  live  it,  this  alone  is  life.  He  never  rests  in  that 
search  for  God  which  he  holds  to  be  the  fulfilment  of  his  highest 
duty  ;  yet  he  seeks  without  any  certainty  of  success.  He  holds 
with  St.  Bernard  that  "  He  alone  is  God  who  can  never  be 
sought  in  vain  :  not  even  when  He  cannot  be  found."  4  With 
Mechthild  of  Magdeburg,  he  hears  the  Absolute  saying  in  his 
soul,  "  O  soul,  before  the  world  was  I  longed  for  thee :  and  I 
still  long  for  thee,  and  thou  for  Me.  Therefore,  when  our  two 
desires  unite,  Love  shall  be  fulfilled."  5 

Like  his  type,  the  "devout  lover"  of  romance,  then,  the 
mystic  serves  without  hope  of  reward.  By  one  of  -the  many 
paradoxes  of  the  spiritual  life,  he  obtains  satisfaction  because  he 
does  not  seek  it ;  completes  his  personality  because  he  gives  it 
up.  "Attainment,"  says  Dionysius  the  Areopagite  in  words 
which  are  writ  large  on  the  annals  of  Christian  ecstasy,  "  comes 
only  by  means  of  this  sincere,  spontaneous,  and  entire  surrender 
of  yourself  and  all  things.6  Only  with  the  annihilation  of  self- 
hood comes  the  fulfilment  of  love.  Were  the  mystic  asked  the 
cause  of  his  often  extraordinary  behaviour,  his  austere  and 
steadfast  quest,  it  is  unlikely  that  his  reply  would  contain  any 

1  Leuba,  op.  cit. 

2  Vita,  p.  8. 

3  "  Subida  del  Monte  Carmelo,"  1.  ii.  cap.  vii. 

4  "De  Consideratione,"  1.  v.  cap.  xi. 

s  "  Das  Fliessende  Licht  der  Gottheit,"  pt.  vii.  cap.  16. 
6  "De  Mystica  Theologia,"  i,  I. 


THE  CHARACTERISTICS  OF  MYSTICISM      111 

reference  to  sublime  illumination  or  unspeakable  delights.  It  is 
more  probable  that  he  would  answer  in  some  such  words  as 
those  of  Jacob  Boehme,  "  I  am  not  come  to  this  meaning,  or  to 
this  work  and  knowledge  through  my  own  reason  or  through 
my  own  will  and  purpose ;  neither  have  I  sought  this  knowledge 
nor  so  much  as  to  know  anything  concerning  it.  I  sought  only 
for  the  heart  of  God,  therein  to  hide  myself."  x 

It  has  been  well  said  that  such  a  search  is  "  not  the  quest  of 
joy,"  but  "  the  satisfaction  of  a  craving  impelled  by  the  spur  of 
necessity."  2  This  craving  is  the  craving  of  the  soul,  unable  to 
rest  in  those  symbols  of  the  sensual  world  which  only  feed  the 
little  tract  of  normal  consciousness,  to  attain  that  fulness  of  life 
for  which  she  was  made  :  to  "  lose  herself  in  That  which  can  be 
neither  seen  nor  touched;  giving  herself  entirely  to  this  sovereign 
Object  without  belonging  either  to  herself  or  to  others ;  united 
to  the  Unknown  by  the  most  noble  part  of  herself  and  because 
of  her  renouncement  of  knowledge  ;  finally  drawing  from  this 
absolute  ignorance  a  knowledge  which  the  understanding  knows 
not  how  to  attain."  3  Mysticism,  then,  is  seen  as  the  "  one  way 
out  "  for  the  awakened  spirit  of  man.  It  is  the  healing  of  that 
human  incompleteness  which  is  the  origin  of  our  divine  unrest : 
the  inevitable  reaction  of  the  fully  conscious,  fully  living  soul 
upon  "Eternal  Truth,  True  Love,  and  Loved  Eternity."4  "  I  am 
sure,"  says  Eckhart,  "  that  if  a  soul  knew  the  very  least  of  all  that 
Being  means,  it  would  never  turn  away  from  it."  s  The  mystics 
have  never  turned  away  :  to  do  so  would  have  seemed  to  them 
a  self-destructive  act.  Here,  in  this  world  of  illusion,  they  say, 
we  have  no  continuing  city.  This  statement,  to  you  a 
proposition,  is  to  us  the  central  fact  of  life.  "  Therefore,  it  is 
necessary  to  hasten  our  departure  from  hence,  and  to  be 
indignant  that  we  are  bound  in  one  part  of  our  nature,  in  order 
that  with  the  whole  of  our  selves,  we  may  fold  ourselves  about 
Divinity,  and  have  no  part  void  of  contact  with  Him."  6 

To  sum  up.  Mysticism  is  seen  to  be  a  highly  specialized 
form  of  that  search  for  reality,  for  heightened  and  completed 

1  "Aurora,"  English  translation,  1764,  p.  237. 

3  A.  E.  Waite,  "  Strange  Houses  of  Sleep,"  p.  211. 

3  Dionysius  the  Areopagite,  "  De  Mystica  Theologia,"  i.  3. 

4  Aug.  Conf.,  bk.  vii.  cap.  10. 

s  "Mystische  Schriften,"  p.  137.         6  Plotinus,  Ennead  vi.  9. 


112  AN  INTRODUCTION   OF  MYSTICISM 

life,  which  we  have  found  to  be  a  constant  characteristic  of 
human  consciousness.  It  is  largely  prosecuted  by  that  "  spiritual 
spark,"  that  transcendental  faculty  which,  though  the  life  of  our 
life,  remains  below  the  threshold  in  ordinary  men.  Emerging 
from  its  hiddenness  in  the  mystic,  it  gradually  becomes  the 
dominant  factor  in  his  life ;  subduing  to  its  service,  and 
enhancing  by  its  saving  contact  with  reality,  those  vital  powers 
of  love  and  will  which  we  attribute  to  the  heart ;  rather  than 
those  of  mere  reason  and  perception,  which  we  attribute  to  the 
head.  Under  the  spur  of  this  love  and  will,  the  whole  person- 
ality rises  in  the  acts  of  contemplation  and  ecstasy  to  a  level  of 
consciousness  at  which  it  becomes  aware  of  a  new  field  of 
perception.  By  this  awareness,  by  this  "  loving  sight,"  it  is 
stimulated  to  a  new  life  in  accordance  with  the  Reality  which  it 
has  beheld.  So  strange  and  exalted  is  this  life,  that  it  never 
fails  to  provoke  either  the  anger  or  the  admiration  of  other  men. 
"  If  the  great  Christian  mystics,"  says  Leuba,  "could  by  some 
miracle  be  all  brought  together  in  the  same  place,  each  in  his 
habitual  environment,  there  to  live  according  to  his  manner,  the 
world  would  soon  perceive  that  they  constitute  one  of  the  most 
amazing  and  profound  variations  of  which  the  human  race  has 
yet  been  witness."  z 

A  discussion  of  mysticism  as  a  whole  will  therefore  include 
two  branches.  First  the  life  process  of  the  mystic :  the  re- 
making of  his  personality  ;  the  method  by  which  his  peculiar 
consciousness  of  the  Absolute  is  attained,  and  faculties  which 
have  been  evolved  to  meet  the  requirements  of  the  phenomenal, 
are  enabled  to  do  work  on  the  transcendental,  plane.  This  is 
the  "  Mystic  Way  "  in  which  the  self  passes  through  the  states 
or  stages  of  development  which  were  codified  by  the  Neo- 
platonists,  and  after  them  by  the  mediaeval  mystics,  as  Purgation, 
Illumination,  and  Ecstasy.  Secondly,  the  content  of  the  mystical 
field  of  perception  ;  the  revelation  under  which  the  contem- 
plative becomes  aware  of  the  Absolute.  This  will  include  a 
consideration  of  the  so-called  doctrines  of  mysticism  :  the 
attempts  of  the  articulate  mystic  to  sketch  for  us  the  world  into 
which  he  has  looked,  in  language  which  is  only  adequate  to  the 
world  in  which  the  rest  of  us  dwell.  Here  the  difficult  question 
of  symbolism,  and  of  symbolic  theology  comes  in  :  a  point  upon 

1  Op.  cit. 


THE   CHARACTERISTICS  OF  MYSTICISM      113 


which  many  promising  expositions  of  the  mystics  have  been 
wrecked.  It  will  be  our  business  to  strip  off  as  far  as  may 
be  the  symbolic  wrapping,  and  attempt  a  synthesis  of  these 
doctrines  ;  to  resolve  the  apparent  contradictions  of  objective 
and  subjective  revelations,  of  the  ways  of  negation  and  affirma- 
tion, emanation  and  immanence,  surrender  and  deification,  the 
Divine  Dark  and  the  Inward  Light ;  and  finally  to  exhibit,  if 
we  can,  the  essential  unity  of  that  experience  in  which  the 
human  soul  enters  consciously  into  the  Presence  of  God. 


CHAPTER  V 

MYSTICISM   AND   THEOLOGY 

Mystic  diagrams — Theology  as  used  by  the  Mystics — Their  conception  ot  God — 
Emanatio  and  Immanence — Emanation  discussed — Dante — the  Kabalists — Aquinas 
— Its  psychological  aspect — Immanence  discussed — the  basis  of  introversion — The 
"ground"  of  soul  and  universe — Emanation  and  Immanence  compared — both 
accepted  by  the  Mystics — Objections  to  this  answered — Emanation  and  the  Mystic 
Way — Its  reconciliation  with  Immanence — Both  describe  experience — are  expressions 
of  temperament — Mystical  theology  must  include  both — Theology  is  the  Mystic's 
map — Sometimes  but  not  always  adequate — Christianity  the  best  of  such  maps — 
It  combines  the  metaphysical  and  personal  aspects  of  the  Divine  —  reconciles 
Emanation  and  Immanence — provides  a  congenial  atmosphere  for  the  Mystic — 
explains  his  adventures — All  Western  mystics  implicitly  Christian — Blake — The 
dogma  of  the  Trinity — Division  of  Persons  essential  to  the  description  of  God — The 
indwelling  and  transcendent  aspects  of  the  Divine— St.  Teresa — her  vision  of  the 
Trinity — Father,  Word,  Holy  Spirit — Threefold  division  of  Reality — Neoplatonic 
trinities — Lady  Julian  on  the  Trinity — Its  psychological  justification — Goodness, 
Truth,  and  Beauty — Trinitarian  doctrine  and  the  Mystics — Light,  Life,  Love — The 
Incarnation — its  mystic  aspect — The  Repairer — The  Drama  of  Faith — The  Eternal 
Birth  of  the  Son — The  New  Birth  in  Man — Regeneration — Conclusion 

IN  the  last  chapter  we  tried  to  establish  a  distinction  between 
the  mystic  who  tastes  supreme  experience  and  the  mystical 
philosopher  who  cogitates  upon  the  data  so  obtained.  We 
have  now,  however,  to  take  account  of  the  fact  that  the  true 
mystic  is  also  very  often  a  mystical  philosopher ;  though  there 
are  plenty  of  mystical  philosophers  who  are  not  and  could 
never  be  mystics. 

Because  it  is  characteristic  of  the  human  self  to  reflect  upon 
its  experience,  to  use  its  percepts  as  material  for  the  construction 
of  a  concept,  most  mystics  have  made  or  accepted  a  theory  of 
their  own  adventures.  Thus  we  have  a  mystical  philosophy  or 
theology — the  comment  of  the  intellect  on  the  proceedings  of 
spiritual  intuition — running  side  by  side  with  true  or  empirical 
mysticism  :  classifying  its  data,  criticizing  it,  explaining  it,  and 

"4 


MYSTICISM  AND  THEOLOGY  115 

translating  its  vision  of  the  supersensible  into  symbols  which 
are  amenable  to  dialectic. 

Such  a  philosophy  is  most  usually  founded  upon  the  formal 
creed  which  the  individual  mystic  accepts.  It  is  characteristic 
of  him  that  in  so  far  as  his  transcendental  activities  are  healthy 
he  is  generally  an  acceptor  and  not  a  rejector  of  such  creeds. 
The  view  which  regards  the  mystic  as  a  spiritual  anarchist 
receives  little  support  from  history  ;  *  which  shows  us,  over  and 
over  again,  the  great  mystics  as  faithful  sons  of  the  great 
religions.  Almost  any  religious  system  which  fosters  un- 
earthly love  is  potentially  a  nursery  for  mystics  :  and  Chris- 
tianity, Islam,  Brahmanism,  and  Buddhism  each  receives  its 
most  sublime  interpretation  at  their  hands. 

Thus  St.  Teresa  interprets  her  ecstatic  apprehension  of  the 
Godhead  in  strictly  Catholic  terms.  Thus  Boehme  believed  to 
the  last  that  his  explorations  of  eternity  were  consistent  with 
the  teaching  of  the  Lutheran  Church.  Thus  the  Sufis  were 
good  Mohammedans,  Philo  and  the  Kabalists  were  orthodox 
Jews.  Thus  Plotinus  even  adapted — though  with  what  difficulty ! 
— the  relics  of  paganism  to  his  doctrine  of  the  Real. 

Attempts,  however,  to  limit  mystical  truth — the  direct 
apprehension  of  the  Divine  Substance — to  the  formulae  of  any 
one  religion,  are  as  futile  as  the  attempt  to  identify  a  precious 
metal  with  the  die  which  converts  it  into  current  coin.  The 
dies  which  the  mystics  have  used  are  many.  Their  peculiarities 
and  excrescences  are  always  interesting  and  sometimes  highly 
significant.  Some  give  a  far  sharper,  more  coherent,  impression 
than  others.  But  the  gold  from  which  this  diverse  coinage  is 
struck  is  always  the  same  precious  metal :  always  the  same 
Beatific  Vision  of  a  Goodness,  Truth,  and  Beauty  which 
is  one.  Hence  its  substance  must  always  be  distinguished 
from  the  accidents  under  which  we  perceive  it :  for  this  substance 
has  a  cosmic,  and  not  a  denominational,  importance. 

If,  however,  we  are  to  understand  the  language  of  the 
mystics,  it  is  evident  that  we  must  know  a  little  of  accident 
as  well  as  of  substance :  that  is  to  say,  of  the  principal  philo- 
sophies or  religions  which  they  have  used  in  describing  their 
adventures  to  the  world.     This  being  so,  before  we  venture  to 

1  Di.    Rufus  Jones  ("Studies  in   Mystical   Religion")   is  at  present  the  most 
eminent  upholder  of  this  opinion. 


116  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

apply  ourselves  to  the  exploration  of  theology  proper,  it  will  be 
well  to  consider  the  two  extreme  forms  under  which  both 
mystics  and  theologians  have  been  accustomed  to  conceive 
Divine  Reality:  that  is  to  say,  the  so-called  "emanation- theory" 
and  "immanence-theory"  of  the  transcendental  world. 

Emanation  and  Immanence  are  formidable  words ;  which, 
though  perpetually  tossed  to  and  fro  by  amateurs  of  religious 
philosophy,  have  probably,  as  they  stand,  little  actuality  for 
practical  modern  men.  They  are,  however,  root-ideas  for  the 
maker  of  mystical  diagrams :  and  his  best  systems  are  but 
attempts  towards  their  reconciliation.  Since  the  aim  of  every 
mystic  is  union  with  God,  it  is  obvious  that  the  vital  question 
in  his  philosophy  must  be  the  place  which  this  God,  the  Absolute 
of  his  quest,  occupies  in  the  scheme.  Briefly,  He  has  been 
conceived — or,  it  were  better  to  say,  presented — by  the  great 
mystics  under  two  apparently  contradictory  modes. 

(i)  The  opinion  which  is  represented  in  its  most  extreme 
form  bf  the  above-mentioned  Theory  of  Emanations,  declares 
His  utter  transcendence.  This  view  appears  early  in  the  history 
of  Greek  philosophy.  It  is  developed  by  Dionysius,  by  the 
Kabalists,  by  Dante :  and  is  implied  in  the  language  of  Rulman 
Merswin  and  many  other  Christian  ecstatics. 

The  solar  system  is  an  almost  perfect  symbol  of  this  concept 
of  the  universe ;  which  finds  at  once  its  most  rigid  and  most 
beautiful  expression  in  Dante's  "  Paradiso." l  The  Absolute 
Godhead  is  conceived  as  removed  by  a  vast  distance  from  the 
material  world  of  sense ;  the  last  or  lowest  of  that  system  of 
dependent  worlds  or  states  which,  generated  by  or  emanating 
from  the  Unity  or  Central  Sun,  become  less  in  spirituality  and 
splendour,  greater  in  multiplicity*  the  further  they  recede  from 
their  source.  That  Source — the  Great  Countenance  of  the 
Absolute — can  never,  say  the  Kabalists,  be  discerned  by  man. 
It  is  the  Unplumbed  Abyss  of  later  mysticism :  the  Cloud 
of  Unknowing  wraps  it  from  our  sight.  Only  by  its  "  emana- 
tions "  or  manifested  attributes  can  we  attain  knowledge  of  it. 

1  ' '  La  gloria  di  colui  che  tutto  move 

per  l'universo  penetra,  e  resplende 

in  una  parte  piu  e  meno  altrove  "  (Par.  i.  1-3). 

The  theological  ground-plan  of  the  Cantica  is  epitomized  in  this  introductory 
verse 


i 


MYSTICISM  AND   THEOLOGY  117 

By  the  outflow  of  these  same  manifested  attributes  and 
powers  the  created  universe  exists,  depending  in  the  last  resort 
on  the  latens  deltas :  Who  is  therefore  conceived  as  external  to 
the  world  which  He  illuminates  and  vivifies. 

St.  Thomas  Aquinas  virtually  accepts  the  doctrine  of 
Emanations  when  he  writes : x  "As  all  the  perfections  of 
Creatures  descend  in  order  from  God,  who  is  the  height  of 
perfection,  man  should  begin  from  the  lower  creatures  and 
ascend  by  degrees,  and  so  advance  to  the  knowledge  of  God.  .  .  . 
And  because  in  that  roof  and  crown  of  all  things,  God,  we  find 
the  most  perfect  unity ;  and  everything  is  stronger  and  more 
excellent  the  more  thoroughly  it  is  one  ;  it  follows  that  diversity 
and  variety  increase  in  things,  the  further  they  are  removed 
from  Him  who  is  the  first  principle  of  all."  Suso,  whose  mystical 
system,  like  that  of  most  Dominicans,  is  entirely  consistent  with 
Thomist  philosophy,  is  really  glossing  Aquinas  when  he  writes  : 
"  The  supreme  and  superessential  Spirit  has  ennobled  man  by 
illuminating  him  with  a  ray  from  the  Eternal  Godhead.  .  .  . 
Hence  from  out  the  great  ring  which  represents  the  Eternal 
Godhead  there  flow  forth  .  .  .  little  rings,  which  may  be  taken 
to  signify  the  high  nobility  of  natural  creatures."  2 

Obviously  if  this  theory  of  the  Absolute  be  accepted  the 
path  of  the  soul's  ascent  to  union  with  the  divine  must  be 
literally  a  transcendence  :  a  journey  "  upward  and  outward," 
through  a  long  series  of  intermediate  states  or  worlds  till,  having 
traversed  the  "  Thirty-two  paths  of  the  Tree  of  Life/'  she  at  last 
arrives,  in  Kabalistic  language,  at  the  Crown :  fruitive  knowledge 
of  God,  the  Abyss  or  Divine  Dark  of  the  Dionysian  school, 
the  Neoplatonic  One.  Such  a  series  of  worlds  is  symbo- 
lized by  the  Ten  Heavens  of  Dante,  the  hierarchies  of 
Dionysius,  the  Tree  of  Life  or  Sephiroth  of  the  Kabalah :  and 
receives  its  countersign  in  the  inward  experience,  in  the  long 
journey  of  the  self  through  Purgation  and  Illumination  to 
Union.  "  We  ascend,"  says  St.  Augustine,  "  thy  ways  that  be 
in  our  heart,  and  sing  a  song  of  degrees  ;  we  glow  inwardly 
with  thy  fire,  with  thy  good  fire,  and  we  go,  because  we  go 
upwards  to  the  peace  of  Jerusalem."  3 

This  theory  postulates,  under  normal  and  non-mystical  con- 


Z     <( 


Summa  Contra  Gentiles,"  1.  iv.  cap.  i.  (Rickaby's  translation). 
Leben,  cap.  lvi.  3  Aug.  Conf.,  bk.  xiii.  cap.  xi. 


118  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

ditions,  the  complete  separation  of  the  human  and  the  divine ; 
the  temporal  and  the  eternal  worlds.  Hence  the  language  of 
pilgrimage,  of  exile,  of  a  world  which  has  fallen  from  perfection 
into  illusion  and  must  make  a  long  and  painful  return,  comes 
naturally  to  the  mystic  who  apprehends  reality  under  these 
terms.  To  him  the  mystical  adventure  is  essentially  a  "  going 
forth"  from  his  normal  self  and  from  his  normal  universe. 
Like  the  Psalmist  "  in  his  heart  he  hath  disposed  to  ascend  by 
steps  in  this  vale  of  tears  "  from  the  less  to  the  more  divine. 
He,  and  with  him  the  Cosmos — for  we  must  never  forget  that 
to  mystical  philosophy  the  soul  of  the  individual  subject  is  the 
microcosm  of  the  soul  of  the  world — has  got  to  retrace  the  long 
road  to  the  Perfection  from  which  it  originally  came  forth ;  as 
the  fish  in  Rulman  Merswin's  Vision  of  Nine  Rocks  must 
struggle  upwards  from  pool  to  pool  until  they  reach  their 
Origin. 

Such  a  way  of  conceiving  Reality  accords  with  the  type  of 
mind  which  William  James  has  denominated  the  "  sick  soul." * 
It  is  the  mood  of  the  contrite,  of  the  penitent,  of  the  utter 
humility  which,  appalled  by  the  sharp  contrast  between  itself 
and  the  Perfect  which  it  contemplates,  can  only  cry  "  out  of  the 
depths."  It  comes  naturally  to  the  kind  of  temperament  which 
leans  to  pessimism,  which  sees  a  "  great  gulf  fixed  "  between 
itself  and  its  desire,  and  is  above  all  things  sensitive  to  the 
elements  of  evil  and  imperfection  in  its  own  character  and  in 
the  normal  experience  of  man.  Permitting  these  elements  to 
dominate  its  field  of  consciousness,  wholly  ignoring  the  divine 
aspect  of  the  World  of  Becoming,  such  a  temperament  con- 
structs from  its  perceptions  and  prejudices  the  concept  of  a 
material  world  and  a  normal  self  which  is  very  far  from  God. 

(2)  Immanence.  At  the  opposite  pole  from  this  way  of 
sketching  Reality  is  the  extreme  theory  of  Immanence,  so 
fashionable  amongst  liberal  theologians  at  the  present  time. 
To  the  holders  of  this  theory,  who  belong  of  necessity  to  Pro- 
fessor James's  "  healthy  minded  "  or  optimistic  class,  the  quest  of 
the  Absolute  is  no  long  journey,  but  a  realization  of  something 
which  is  implicit  in  the  self  and  in  the  universe  :  an  opening  of 
the  eyes  of  the  soul  upon  the  Reality  in  which  it  is  bathed. 
For  them  earth  is  literally  "  crammed  with  heaven."  "  Thou 
1  "  Varieties  of  Religious  Experience,"  Lecture  vi. 


MYSTICISM  AND  THEOLOGY  119 

wert  I,  but  dark  was  my  heart,  I  knew  not  the  secret  tran- 
scendent," says  Tewekkul  Beg,  a  Moslem  mystic  of  the  seven- 
teenth century.1  This  is  always  the  cry  of  the  temperament 
which  leans  to  a  theology  of  immanence,  once  its  eyes  are 
opened  on  the  light.  "  God,"  says  Plotinus,  "  is  not  external  to 
anyone,  but  is  present  with  all  things,  though  they  are  ignorant 
that  He  is  so."  3  In  other  and  older  words,  "  The  spirit  of  God 
is  within  you."  The  Absolute  Whom  all  seek  does  not  hold 
Himself  aloof  from  an  imperfect  material  universe,  but  dwells 
within  the  flux  of  things  :  stands  as  it  were  at  the  very  thres- 
hold of  consciousness  and  knocks,  awaiting  the  selfs  slow  dis- 
covery of  her  treasures.  "  He  is  not  far  from  any  one  of  us,  for 
in  Him  we  live  and  move  and  have  our  being,"  is  the  pure 
doctrine  of  Immanence :  a  doctrine  whose  teachers  are  drawn 
from  amongst  the  souls  which  react  more  easily  to  the  touch  of 
the  Divine  than  to  the  sense  of  alienation  and  of  sin,  and  are 
naturally  inclined  to  love  rather  than  to  awe.  The  truth  that 
"  God  and  man  initially  meet  where  man  is  most  inward  "  3 — i.e.y 
in  the  spark  or  ground  of  the  soul — is  the  cardinal  fact  in  their 
experience  of  the  transcendental  world. 

Unless  safeguarded  by  limiting  dogmas,  the  theory  of 
Immanence,  taken  alone,  is  notoriously  apt  to  degenerate  into 
pantheism  ;  and  into  those  extravagant  perversions  of  the 
doctrine  of  "  deification  "  in  which  the  mystic  holds  his  trans- 
figured self  to  be  identical  with  the  Indwelling  God.  It  is  the 
philosophical  basis  of  that  practice  of  introversion,  the  turning 
inwards  of  the  soul's  faculties  in  contemplation,  which  has  been 
the  "  method ''  of  the  great  practical  mystics  of  all  creeds.  That 
God,  since  He  is  in  all — in  a  sense,  is  all — may  most  easily  be 
found  within  ourselves,  is  the  doctrine  of  these  adventurers ;  4 
who,  denying  or  ignoring  the  existence  of  those  intervening 
"  worlds "  or  "  planes "  between  the  material  world  and  the 
Absolute,  which  are  postulated  by  the  theory  of  Emanations, 
claim  with    Ruysbroeck   that   "by   a   simple  introspection   in 

x  Quoted  by  W.  L.  Lilly,  "  Many  Mansions,"  p.  140. 

3  Ennead  vi.  9. 

s  Boyce  Gibson,  "  Rudolph  Eucken's  Philosophy,"  p.  104. 

4  Thus  Aquinas  says,  "Since  God  is  the  universal  cause  of  all  Being,  in  whatever 
region  Being  can  be  found,  there  must  be  the  Divine  Presence  "  ("  Summa  Contra 
Gentiles,"  1.  iii.  cap.  lxviii.).  And  we  have  seen  that  the  whole  claim  of  the  mystics 
ultimately  depends  on  man's  possession  of  pure  being  in  *'  the  spark  of  the  soul." 


120  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

fruitive  love  *  they  "  meet  God  without  intermediary."  *  They 
hear  the  Father  of  Lights  "saying  eternally,  without  inter- 
mediary or  interruption,  in  the  most  secret  part  of  the  spirit, 
the  one  unique,  and  abysmal  Word."2 

This  "divine"  essence,  or  substance,  which  the  introversive 
mystic  finds  dwelling,  as  Ruysbroeck  says,  at  the  apex  of  man's 
spirit,  is  the  "  spark  of  the  soul "  of  Eckhart,  the  "  ground  "  of 
Tauler,  the  Inward  Light  of  the  Quakers,  the  "Divine  Principle" 
of  some  modern  transcendentalists  ;  the  fount  and  source  of  all 
true  life.  At  this  point  words  and  definitions  fail  mystic  and 
theologian  alike.  A  tangle  of  metaphors  takes  their  place. 
He  is  face  to  face  with  the  "  wonder  of  wonders  " — that  most 
real  of  all  experiences,  the  union  of  human  and  divine,  in  a 
nameless  something  which  is  "  great  enough  to  be  God,  small 
enough  to  be  me."  Hence  at  one  moment  the  spark  of  the 
soul  is  presented  to  us  as  the  divine  to  which  the  self  attains  : 
at  another,  as  that  transcendental  aspect  of  the  self  which  is  in 
contact  with  God.  On  either  hypothesis  it  is  that  in  which 
the  mystic  encounters  Absolute  Being:  and  constitutes  his 
guarantee  of  God's  immediate  presence  in  the  human  heart ; 
and,  if  in  the  human  heart,  then  in  that  universe  of  which  man's 
soul  resumes  in  miniature  the  essential  characteristics. 

According  to  the  doctrine  of  Immanence,  creation,  the 
universe,  could  we  see  it  as  it  is,  would  be  perceived  as  the  self- 
development,  the  self-unfolding  of  this  indwelling  Deity.  The 
world  is  not  projected  from  the  Absolute,  but  rather  enshrines 
It.  "  I  understood,"  says  St.  Teresa,  "  how  our  Lord  was  in 
all  things,  and  how  He  was  in  the  soul :  and  the  illustration  of 
a  sponge  filled  with  water  was  suggested  to  me."  3  The  world- 
process  then,  is  the  slow  coming  to  fruition  of  that  Divine  Spark 
which  is  latent  alike  in  the  Cosmos  and  in  man.  "  If,"  says 
Boehme,  "  thou  conceivest  a  small  minute  circle,  as  small  as  a 
grain  of  mustard  seed,  yet  the  Heart  of  God  is  wholly  and  per- 
fectly therein  :  and  if  thou  art  born  in  God,  then  there  is  in  thy- 

1  "  L'Ornement  des  Noces  Spirituelles,"  1.  ii.  cap.  lxxi. 

9  Op.  cit.,  1.  iii.  cap.  i. 

3  Relaccion,  ix.  10.  But  this  image  of  a  sponge,  which  also  suggested  itseh  to 
St.  Augustine,  proved  an  occasion  of  stumbling  to  his  more  metaphysical  mind  :  tend- 
ing to  confuse  his  idea  of  the  nature  of  God  with  the  category  of  space.  Vide  Aug. 
Conf.,  bk.  vii.  cap.  v. 


MYSTICISM  AND  THEOLOGY  121 

self  (in  the  circle  of  thy  life)  the  whole  Heart  of  God  undivided."1 
The  idea  of  Immanence  has  seldom  been  more  beautifully 
expressed. 

It  is  worth  noticing  that  both  the  theological  theories  of 
reality  which  have  been  acceptable  to  the  mystics  implicitly 
declare,  as  modern  science  does,  that  the  universe  is  not  static 
hut  dynamic  :  a  World  of  Becoming.  According  to  the  doctrine 
of  Immanence  this  universe  is  free,  self-creative.  The  Divine 
nests  within  it :  no  part  is  more  removed  from  the  Godhead  than 
any  other  part.  "  God,"  says  Eckhart,  "  is  nearer  to  me  than  I 
am  to  myself;  He  is  just  as  near  to  wood  and  stone,  but  they 
do  not  know  it."2 

These  two  apparently  contradictory  explanations  of  the 
Invisible  have  both  been  held,  and  that  in  their  extreme  form, 
by  the  mystics :  who  have  found  in  both  adequate  and  indeed 
necessary  diagrams  by  which  to  demonstrate  their  experience 
of  Reality. 3  Some  of  the  least  lettered  and  most  inspired 
amongst  them — for  instance,  St.  Catherine  of  Siena,  Lady  Julian 
of  Norwich — and  some  of  the  most  learned,  as  Dionysius  the 
Areopagite  and  Meister  Eckhart,  have  actually  used  in  their 
rhapsodies  language  appropriate  to  both  the  theories  of  Emana- 
tion and  of  Immanence.  It  would  seem,  then,  that  both  these 
theories  must  veil  the  truth  ;  and  that  it  is  the  business  of  a  sound 
mystical  philosophy  to  reconcile  them.  It  is  too  often  forgotten 
by  quarrelsome  partisans  of  a  concrete  turn  of  mind  that  at  best 
all  these  transcendental  theories  are  only  symbols,  methods, 
^diagrams  ;  feebly  attempting  the  representation  of  an  experience  - 
ji  which  is  always  the  same,  and  whose  dominant  characteristic 
-4  is  its  inefTability.  Hence  they  insist  with  tiresome  monotony  that 
Dionysius  must  be  wrong  if  Tauler  be  right :  that  it  is  absurd 
to  call  yourself  the  Friend  of  God  if  unknowableness  be  that 
God's  first  attribute  :  that  Plato's  Perfect  Beauty  and  Catherine 
of  Siena's  Accepter  of  Sacrifices  cannot  be  the  same  :  that  the 
"  courteous  and  dear-worthy  Lord  "  who  said  to  Lady  Julian, 
"  My  darling,  I  am  glad  that  thou  art  come  to  Me,  in  all  thy 
wo  I  have  ever  been  with  thee,"  4  rules  out  the  formless  and 

x  "The  Threefold  Life  of  Man,"  cap.  vi.  §  71. 

a  Eckhart,  Pred.  lxix.     So  too  we  read  in  the  Oxyrhyncus  Papyri,  "  Raise  the 
stone  and  there  thou  shalt  find  Me.     Cleave  the  wood  and  there  am  I." 

3  Compare  above,  cap.  ii.  *  "  Revelations  of  Divine  Love,"  cap.  xl. 


122  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

impersonal  One  of  Plotinus,  the  "triple  circle"  of  Suso  and 
Dante.  Finally,  that  if  God  be  truly  immanent  in  the  material 
world,  it  is  either  sin  or  folly  to  refuse  that  world  in  order  that 
we  may  find  Him  ;  and  if  introversion  be  right,  a  plan  of  the 
universe  which  postulates  intervening  planes  between  Absolute 
Being  and  the  phenomenal  world  must  be  wrong. 

Now  as  regards  the  mystics,  of  whom  we  hold  both  these 
doctrines,  these  ways  of  seeing  truth — for  what  else  is  a  doctrine 
but  that? — it  is  well  to  remind  ourselves  that  their  teaching 
about  the  relation  of  the  Absolute  to  the  finite,  of  God  to  the 
phenomenal  world,  must  be  founded  in  the  first  instance  on 
what  they  know  by  experience  of  the  relation  between  that 
Absolute  and  the  individual  self.  This  experience  is  the  valid 
part  of  mysticism,  the  thing  which  gives  to  it  its  unique  import- 
ance amongst  systems  of  thought,  the  only  source  of  its 
knowledge.  Everything  else  is  really  guessing  aided  by 
analogy.  When  therefore  the  mystic,  applying  to  the 
universe  what  he  knows  to  be  true  in  respect  of  his  own 
soul,  describes  Divine  Perfection  as  very  far  removed  'from 
the  material  world,  yet  linked  with  it  by  a  graduated  series 
of  "  emanations  " — states  or  qualities  which  have  each  of  them 
something  of  the  godlike  though  they  be  not  God — he  is  trying 
to  describe  the  necessary  life-process  which  he  has  himself 
passed  through  in  the  course  of  his  purgation  and  spiritual 
ascent  from  the  state  of  the  "  natural  man  "  to  that  other  state 
of  harmony  with  the  spiritual  universe,  sometimes  called 
"deification,"  in  which  he  is  able  to  contemplate,  and  unite 
with,  the  divine.  We  have  in  the  "  Divina  Commedia  "  a  classic 
example  of  such  a  two-fold  vision  of  the  inner  and  the  outer 
worlds :  for  Dante's  journey  up  and  out  to  the  Empyrean 
Heaven  is  really  an  inward  alchemy,  an  ordering  and  trans- 
muting of  his  nature,  a  purging  of  his  spiritual  sight  till — 
transcending  all  derived  beatitude — it  can  look  for  an  instant 
on  the  Being  of  God. 

The  mystic  assumes — because  he  always  assumes  an  orderly 
basis  for  things — that  there  is  a  relation,  an  analogy,  between  this 
microcosm  of  man's  self  and  the  macrocosm  of  the  world-self. 
Hence  his  experience,  the  geography  of  the  individual  quest, 
appears  to  him  good  evidence  of  the  geography  of  the  Invisible. 
Since  he  must  transcend  his  natural  life  in  order  to  attain  con- 


MYSTICISM  AND  THEOLOGY  123 

seriousness  of  God,  he  conceives  of  God  as  essentially  transcendent 
to  the  natural  world.  His  description  of  that  geography,  however 
— of  his  path  in  a  land  where  there  is  no  time  and  space,  no  inner 
and  no  outer,  up  or  down — will  be  conditioned  by  his  tempera- 
ment, by  his  powers  of  observation,  by  the  metaphor  which 
comes  most  readily  to  his  hand,  above  all  by  his  theological 
education.  The  so-called  journey  itself  is  a  psychological 
experience :  the  purging  and  preparation  of  the  self,  its 
movement  to  higher  levels  of  consciousness,  its  unification 
with  that  more  spiritual  but  normally  subconscious  self  which 
is  in  touch  with  the  transcendental  order,  and  its  gradual  or 
abrupt  entrance  into  union  with  the  Real.  Sometimes  it 
seems  to  the  self  that  this  performance  is  a  retreat  inwards 
to  that  "  ground  of  the  soul "  where,  as  St.  Teresa  says, 
"  His  Majesty  awaits  us " :  sometimes  a  going  forth  from  the 
Conditioned  to  the  Unconditioned,  the  "supernatural  flight" 
of  Plotinus  and  Dionysius  the  Areopagite.  Both  are  but  images 
under  which  the  self  conceives  the  process  of  attaining  con- 
scious union  with  that  God  who  is  "at  once  immanent  and 
transcendent  in  relation  to  the  soul  which  shares  His  Life."  « 

He  has  go*  to  find  God.  The  quest  is  long;  the  end 
amazing.  Sometimes  his  temperament  causes  him  to  lay 
most  stress  on  the  length  of  the  search ;  sometimes  the  abrupt 
rapture  which  brings  it  to  a  close  makes  him  forget  that 
preliminary  pilgrimage  in  which  the  soul  is  "not  outward 
bound,  but  rather  on  a  journey  to  its  centre."  The  Habitations 
of  the  Interior  Castle  through  which  St.  Teresa  conducts  the 
ardent  disciple  to  that  hidden  chamber  which  is  the  sanctuary 
of  the  indwelling  God  :  the  hierarchies  of  Dionysius,  ascending 
from  the  selfless  service  of  the  angels,  past  the  seraphs'  burning 
love  to  the  God  enthroned  above  time  and  space :  the  mystical 
paths  of  the  Kabalistic  Tree  of  Life,  which  lead  from  the 
material  world  of  Malkuth  through  the  universes  of  action  and 
thought,  by  Mercy,  Justice  and  Beauty  to  the  Supernal 
Crown ; 2  all  these  are  different  ways  of  seeing  this  same 
pilgrimage. 

As  every  one  is  born  a  disciple  of  either  Plato  or 
Aristotle,   so   every   human   soul    leans   to   one   of  these   two 

1  Boyce  Gibson,  "  God  with  Us,"  p.  24. 

a  See  A.  E.  Waite,  "The  Doctrine  and  Literature  of  the  Kabalah,"  pp.  36-53. 


124  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

ways  of  apprehending  reality.  The  artist,  the  poet,  every 
one  who  looks  with  awe  and  rapture  on  created  things, 
acknowledges  in  this  act  the  Immanent  God.  The  ascetic, 
and  that  intellectual  ascetic  the  metaphysician,  turning  from 
the  created,  denying  the  senses  in  order  to  find  afar  off  the 
Uncreated,  Unconditioned  Source,  is  really — though  often  he 
knows  it  not — obeying  that  psychological  law  which  produced 
the  doctrine  of  Emanations. 

A  good  map  then,  a  good  mystical  philosophy,  will  leave 
room  for  both  these  ways  of  interpreting  experience.  It  will 
mark  the  routes  by  which  many  different  temperaments  claim 
to  have  found  their  way  to  the  same  end.  It  will  acknowledge 
both  the  aspects  under  which  the  patria  splendida  Truth  has 
appeared  to  its  lovers :  the  aspects  which  have  called  forth  the 
theories  of  emanation  and  immanence  and  are  enshrined  in 
the  Greek  and  Latin  names  of  God.  Deus,  whose  root  means 
day,  shining,  the  Transcendent  Light ;  and  Theos,  whose  true 
meaning  is  supreme  desire  or  prayer — the  Inward  Love — do 
not  contradict,  but  complete  each  other.  They  form,  when 
taken  together,  an  almost  perfect  definition  of  that  Absolute 
which  is  the  object  of  the  mystic's  desire :  the  Divine  Love 
which,  being  born  in  the  soul,  spurs  on  that  soul  to  union  with 
the  transcendent  and  Absolute  Light  which  is  at  once  the 
source,  the  goal,  the  life  of  created  things. 

The  true  mystic — the  person  with  a  genius  for  God — hardly 
needs  a  map  himself.  He  steers  a  compass  course  across  the 
"  vast  and  stormy  sea  of  the  divine."  It  is  characteristic  of  his 
intellectual  humility,  however,  that  he  is  always  willing  to  use 
the  map  of  the  community  in  which  he  finds  himself,  when  it 
comes  to  showing  other  people  the  route  which  he  has  pursued. 
Sometimes  these  maps  have  been  adequate.  More,  they  have 
elucidated  the  obscure  wanderings  of  the  explorer ;  helped  him  ; 
given  him  landmarks ;  worked  out  right.  Time  after  time  he 
puts  his  finger  on  some  spot — some  great  hill  of  vision,  some 
city  of  the  soul — and  says  with  conviction,  "  Here  have  I  been." 
At  other  times  the  maps  have  embarrassed  him,  have  refused  to 
fit  in  with  his  description.  Then  he  has  tried,  as  Boehme  did 
and  after  him  Blake,  to  make  new  ones.  Such  maps  are  often 
wild  in  drawing,  because  good  draughtsmanship  does  not  neces- 
sarily go  with  a  talent  for  exploration.     Departing  from  the 


MYSTICISM  AND  THEOLOGY  125 

usual  convention,  they  are  hard — sometimes  impossible — to 
understand.  As  a  result,  the  orthodox  have  been  forced  to 
regard  their  makers  as  madmen  or  heretics :  when  they  were 
really  only  practical  men  struggling  to  disclose  great  matters  by 
imperfect  means. 

Now,  without  prejudice  to  individual  beliefs  and  without 
offering  an  opinion  as  to  the  exclusive  truth  of  any  one  religious 
system  or  revelation — for  here  we  are  concerned  neither  with 
controversy  nor  with  apologetics — we  are  bound  to  allow  as  a 
historical  fact  that  mysticism,  so  far,  has  found  its  best  map 
in  Christianity.  Christian  philosophy,  especially  that  Neo-  \ 
platonic  theology  which,  taking  up  and  harmonizing  all  that 
was  best  in  the  spiritual  intuitions  of  Greece,  India  and  Egypt, 
was  developed  by  the  great  doctors  of  the  early  and  mediaeval 
Church,  supports  and  elucidates  the  revelations  of  the  indi- 
vidual mystic  as  no  other  system  of  thought  has  been  able  to  do. 

We  owe  to  the  great  fathers  of  the  first  five  centuries — to 
Clement  of  Alexandria  and  Irenaeus,  Gregory  of  Nyssa  and 
Augustine ;  above  all  to  Dionysius  the  Areopagite,  the  great 
Christian  contemporary  of  Proclus — the  preservation  of  that 
mighty  system  of  scaffolding  which  enabled  the  Catholic  mystics 
to  build  up  the  towers  and  bulwarks  of  the  City  of  God.  The 
peculiar  virtue  of  this  Christian  philosophy,  that  which  marks 
its  superiority  to  the  more  coldly  self-consistent  systems  of 
Greece,  is  the  fact  that  it  re-states  the  truths  of  metaphysics 
in  terms  of  personality:  thus  offering  a  third  term,  a  "living 
mediator"  between  the  Unknowable  God,  the  unconditioned 
Absolute,  and  the  conditioned  self.  This  was  the  priceless  gift 
which  the  Wise  Men  received  in  return  for  their  gold,  frankin- 
cense, and  myrrh.  This  solves  the  puzzle  which  all  explorers 
of  the  supersensible  have  sooner  or  later  to  face :  come  si 
convenne  l' imago  al  cerchio*  the  reconciliation  of  Infinite  and 
intimate,  both  known  and  felt,  but  neither  understood.  Such 
a  third  term,  such  a  stepping-stone,  was  essential  if  mysticism 
were  ever  to  attain  that  active  union,  that  fullness  of  life  which 
is  its  object,  and  develop  from  a  blind  and  egoistic  rapture  into 
fruitful  and  self- forgetting  love. 

Where  non-Christian  mystics,  as  a  rule,  have  made  a  forced 
choice  between  the  two  great  dogmatic  expressions    of  their 

1  Par.  xxxiii.  137. 


126  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

experience,  (a)  the  long  pilgrimage  towards  a  transcendent  and 
unconditioned  Absolute,  (3)  the  discovery  of  that  Absolute  in  the 
"  ground"  or  spiritual  principle  of  the  self;  it  has  been  possible 
to  Christianity,  by  means  of  her  central  doctrine  of  the  Trinity, 
to  find  room  for  both  of  them  and  to  exhibit  them  as  that 
which  they  are  in  fact — the  complementary  parts  of  a  whole. 
Even  Dionysius,  the  godfather  of  the  emanation  doctrine,  com- 
bines with  his  scheme  of  descending  hierarchies  the  dogma  of 
an  indwelling  God:  and  no  writer  is  more  constantly  quoted  by 
Meister  Eckhart,  who  is  generally  considered  to  have  preached 
Immanence  in  its  most  extreme  and  pantheistic  form. 

Further,  the  Christian  atmosphere  is  the  one  in  which  the 
individual  mystic  has  most  often  been  able  to  develop  his 
genius  in  a  sane  and  fruitful  way ;  and  an  overwhelming 
majority  of  the  great  European  contemplatives  have  been 
Christians  of  a  strong,  impassioned  and  personal  type.  This 
alone  would  justify  us  in  regarding  it  as  representing,  at  any 
rate  in  the  West,  the  formal  side  of  the  true  tradition :  the 
"  path  of  least  resistance "  through  which  that  tradition  flows. 
In  many  cases  the  very  heretics  of  Christianity  have  owed 
their  greatness  almost  wholly  to  their  mystical  qualities.  The 
Gnostics,  the  Fraticelli,  the  Brethren  of  the  Free  Spirit,  the 
Quietists,  the  Quakers,  are  instances  of  this.  In  others,  it  was 
to  an  excessive  reliance  on  reason  when  dealing  with  the  supra- 
rational,  and  a  corresponding  absence  of  trust  in  mystical 
intuition  that  heresy  was  due.  Arius  and  Pelagius  are 
heretics  of  this  type. 

The  greatest  mystics,  however,  have  not  been  heretics  but 
Catholic  saints.  In  Christianity  the  "  natural  mysticism  "  which, 
like  "  natural  religion,"  is  latent  in  humanity,  and  at  a  certain 
point  of  development  breaks  out  in  every  race,  came  to  itself; 
and  attributing  for  the  first  time  true  and  distinct  personality 
to  its  Object,  brought  into  focus  the  confused  and  unconditioned 
God  which  Neoplatonism  had  constructed  from  the  abstract 
concepts  of  philosophy  blended  with  the  intuitions  of  Indian 
ecstatics,  and  made  the  basis  of  its  meditations  on  the  Real. 
It  is  a  truism  that  the  real  claim  of  Christian  philosophy  on 
our  respect  does  not  lie  in  its  exclusiveness  but  in  its  Catho- 
licity:  in  the  fact  that  it  finds  truth  in  a  hundred  different 
systems,   accepts   and   elucidates   Greek,   Jewish    and    Indian 


MYSTICISM  AND  THEOLOGY  127 

thought,  fuses  them  in  a  coherent  theology,  and  says  to 
speculative  thinkers  of  every  time  and  place,  "  Whom  there- 
fore ye  ignorantly  worship,  Him  declare  I  unto  you." 

The  voice  of  Truth,  which  spoke  once  for  all  on  Calvary 
and  there  declared  the  ground  plan  of  the  universe,  was  heard 
more  or  less  perfectly  by  all  the  great  seers,  the  intuitive 
leaders  of  men,  the  possessors  of  genius  for  the  Real.  There 
are  few  of  the  Christian  names  of  God  which  were  not  known 
to  the  teachers  of  antiquity.  To  the  Egyptians  He  was  the 
Saviour,  to  the  Platonists  the  Good,  Beautiful  and  True,  to 
the  Stoics  the  Father  and  Companion.  The  very  words  of  the 
Fourth  Gospel  are  anticipated  by  Cleanthes.  Heracleitus  knew 
the  Energizing  Fire  of  which  St.  Bonaventura  and  Mechthild 
of  Magdeburg  speak.  Countless  mystics,  from  St.  Augustine 
to  St.  John  of  the  Cross,  echo  again  and  again  the  language 
of  Plotinus.  It  is  true  that  the  differentia  which  mark  off 
Christianity  from  all  other  religions  are  strange  and  poignant : 
but  these  very  differentia  make  of  it  the  most  perfect  of  settings 
for  the  mystic  life.  Its  note  of  close  intimacy,  of  direct  and 
personal  contact  with  a  spiritual  reality  given  here  and  now — 
its  astonishing  combination  of  splendour  and  simplicity,  of  the 
sacramental  and  transcendent — all  these  things  minister  to  the 
needs  of  the  mystical  type. 

Hence  the  Christian  system,  or  some  colourable  imitation 
of  it,  has  been  found  essential  by  almost  all  the  great  mystics 
of  the  West.  They  adopt  its  nomenclature,  explain  their  adven- 
tures by  the  help  of  its  creed,  identify  their  Absolute  with  the 
Christian  God.  Amongst  European  mystics  the  most  usually 
quoted  exception  to  this  rule  is  Blake ;  yet  it  is  curious  to 
notice  that  the  more  inspired  his  utterance,  the  more  pas- 
sionately and  dogmatically  Christian  even  this  hater  of  the 
Churches  becomes : — 

"  We  behold 
Where  Death  eternal  is  put  off  eternally.     O  Lamb 
Assume  the  dark  satanic  body  in  the  Virgin's  womb  ! 
O  Lamb  divine  !  it  cannot  thee  annoy  !     O  pitying  One, 
Thy  pity  is  from  the  foundation  of  the  world,  and  thy  Redemption 
Begins  already  in  Eternity."1 

This  is  the  doctrine  of  the  Incarnation  in  a  nutshell :  here 

!  "Vala,"  viii.  237. 


128  AN  INTKODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

St.  Thomas  himself  would  find  little  to  correct.  Of  the  two 
following  extracts  from  "Jerusalem,"  the  first  is  but  a  poet's 
gloss  on  the  Catholic's  cry,  "  O  felix  culpa  ! "  the  second  is  an 
almost  perfect  epitome  of  Christian  theology  and  ethics : — 

••  If  I  were  pure,  never  could  I  taste  the  sweets 
Of  the  forgiveness  of  sins.     If  I  were  holy,  I  never  could  behold  the  tears 
Of  Love  .  .  .  O  Mercy !   O  divine  Humanity  ! 

O  Forgiveness,  O  Pity  and  Compassion  !    If  I  were  pure  I  should  never 
Have  known  Thee." 

"  Wouldst  thou  love  one  who  never  died 
For  thee,  or  ever  die  for  one  who  had  not  died  for  thee? 
And  if  God  dieth  not  for  man,  and  giveth  not  Himself 
Eternally  for  Man,  Man  could  not  exist,  for  Man  is  Love 
As  God  is  Love.     Every  kindness  to  another  is  a  little  death 
In  the  Divine  Image,  nor  can  Man  exist  but  by  brotherhood."1 

What  needs  to  be  emphasized  is  this :  that  whether  the 
dogmas  of  Christianity  be  or  be  not  accepted  on  the  scientific 
and  historical  plane,  they  are  necessary  to  an  adequate  descrip- 
tion of  mystical  experience — at  least,  of  the  fully  developed 
dynamic  mysticism  of  the  West.  We  must  therefore  be  pre- 
pared in  reading  the  works  of  the  contemplatives  for  much 
strictly  denominational  language ;  and  shall  be  wise  if  we 
preface  the  encounter  by  some  consideration  of  this  language, 
and  of  its  real  meaning  for  those  who  use  and  believe  it. 

No  one  needs,  I  suppose,  to  be  told  that  the  two  chief 
features  of  Christian  schematic  theology  are  the  dogmas  of 
the  Trinity  and  the  Incarnation.  They  correlate  and  explain 
each  other  :  forming  together,  for  the  Christian,  the  "  final  key  " 
to  the  riddle  of  the  world.  The  history  of  practical  Chris- 
tianity is  the  history  of  the  attempt  to  exhibit  their  meaning 
in  space  and  time.  The  history  of  mystical  philosophy  is  the 
history — still  incomplete — of  the  demonstration  of  their  meaning 
in  eternity. 
y  Some  form  of  Trinitarian  dogma  is  found  to  be  essential, 
as  a  method  of  describing  observed  facts,  the  moment  that 
mysticism  begins  either  {a)  to  analyse  its  own  psychological 
conditions,  or  (J?)  to  philosophize  upon  its  intuitions  of  the 
Absolute.     It  must,  that  is  to  say,  divide  the  aspects  under 

*  "Terusalem,"  lxi.  44  and  xcv.  23. 


MYSTICISM  AND  THEOLOGY  129 

which  it  knows  the  Godhead,  if  it  is  to  deal  with  them  in  a 
fruitful  or  comprehensible  way.  The  Unconditioned  One, 
which  is,  for  Neoplatonist  and  Catholic  alike,  the  final 
object  of  the  mystic  quest,  cannot  of  itself  satisfy  the  deepest 
instincts  of  humanity :  for  man  is  aware  that  diversity  in  unity 
is  a  necessary  condition  if  perfection  of  character  is  to  be 
expressed.  Though  the  idea  of  unity  alone  may  serve  to 
define  the  End — and  though  the  mystics  return  to  it  again 
and  again  as  a  relief  from  that  "heresy  of  multiplicity"  by 
which  they  are  oppressed — it  cannot  by  itself  be  adequate 
to  the  description  of  the  All. 

The  first  question,  then,  must  be — How  many  of  such 
aspects  are  necessary  to  the  complete  presentment  of  the 
mystic's  position?  How  many  faces  of  Reality  does  he  see? 
At  the  very  least,  as  we  have  already  seen,  he  must  be  aware 
of  two  aspects  :  (a)  that  Holy  Spirit  within,  that  Divine  Life  by 
which  his  own  life  is  transfused  and  upheld,  and  of  which  he 
becomes  increasingly  conscious  as  his  education  proceeds  ; 
(b)  that  Transcendent  Spirit  without,  the  "  Absolute,"  towards 
union  with  which  the  indwelling  and  increasingly  dominant 
spirit  of  love  pushes  the  developing  soul.  It  is  the  function 
of  ecstasy  to  fuse  these  two  aspects  of  God — to  bring  back, 
in  mystical  language,  the  Lover  to  the  Beloved — but  it  is  no 
less  the  function  of  mystical  philosophy  to  separate  them. 
Over  and  over  again  the  mystics  and  their  critics  acknowledge, 
explicitly  or  implicitly,  the  necessity  of  this  act. 

Thus  even  the  rigid  monotheism  of  Israel  and  Islam  cannot, 
in  the  hands  of  the  Kabalists  and  the  Sufis,  get  away  from  an 
essential  dualism  in  the  mystical  experience.  According  to  the 
Zohar,  says  Mr.  A.  E.  Waite,  its  best  modern  student,  "God  is 
considered  as  immanent  in  all  that  has  been  created  or  eman- 
ated, and  yet  is  transcendent  to  all." 1  So  too  the  Sufis.  God, 
they  say,  is  to  be  contemplated  {a)  outwardly  in  the  imperfect 
beauties  of  the  earth  ;  (b)  inwardly,  by  meditation.  Further, 
since  He  is  One,  and  in  all  things,  "  to  conceive  one's  self  as 
separate  from  God  is  an  error :  yet  only  when  one  sees  oneself  as 
separate  from  God,  can  one  reach  out  to  God"  2 

Thus   Delacroix,   speaking   purely  as  a   psychologist,   and 

1  A.  E.  Waite,  "The  Doctrine  and  Literature  of  the  Kabalah,"  p.  35. 
a  Palmer,  "  Oriental  Mysticism,"  pt.  i.  cap.  i. 

I 


130  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

denying  to  the  mystical  revelation — which  he  attributes  ex- 
clusively to  the  normal  content  of  the  subliminal  mind — any 
transcendental  value,  writes  with  entire  approval  of  St.  Teresa, 
that  she  "  set  up  externally  to  herself  the  definite  God  of  the 
Bible,  at  the  same  time  as  she  set  up  within  her  soul  the 
confused  God  of  the  Pseudo-Areopagite :  the  One  of  Neo- 
platonism.  The  first  is  her  guarantee  of  the  orthodoxy  of  the 
second,  and  prevents  her  from  losing  herself  in  an  indistinction 
which  is  non-Christian.  The  confused  God  within  is  highly 
dangerous.  ...  St.  Teresa  knew  how  to  avoid  this  peril,  and, 
served  by  her  rich  subconscious  life,  by  the  exaltation  of  her 
mental  images,  by  her  faculty  of  self-division  on  the  one  hand, 
on  the  other  by  her  rare  powers  of  unification,  she  realized 
simultaneously  a  double  state  in  which  the  two  Gods  [i.e.,  the 
two  ways  of  apprehending  God,  transcendence  and  immanence] 
were,  guarantees  of  each  other,  mutually  consolidating  and 
enriching  one  another :  such  is  the  intellectual  vision  of  the 
Trinity  in  the  Seventh  Habitation."1 

It  is  probable  that  St.  Teresa,  confronted  by  this  astonishing 
analysis,  would  have  objected  that  her  Trinity,  unlike  that  of  her 
eulogist,  consisted  of  three  and  not  two  Persons.  His  language 
concerning  confused  interior  and  orthodox  exterior  Gods  would 
certainly  have  appeared  to  her  delicate  and  honest  mind  both 
clumsy  and  untrue  :  nor  could  she  have  allowed  that  the 
Unconditioned  One  of  the  Neoplatonists  was  an  adequate 
description  of- the  strictly  personal  Divine  Majesty  Whom  she 
found  enthroned  in  the  inmost  sanctuary  of  the  Castle  of  the 
Soul. 

What  St.  Teresa  really  did  was  to  actualize  in  her  own 
experience,  apprehend  in  the  "ground  of  her  soul"  by  means 
of  her  extraordinarily  developed  transcendental  perceptions, 
the  three  distinct  and  personal  Aspects  of  the  Godhead  which 
are  acknowledged  by  the  Christian  religion. 

First,  the  Father,  pure  transcendent  Being,  creative  Source 
and  Origin  of  all  that  Is :  the  Unconditioned  and  Unknowable 
One  of  the  Neoplatonist :  Who  is  to  be  conceived,  pace  M. 
Delacroix,  as  utterly  transcendent  to  the  subject  rather  than 
"set  up  within  the  soul." 

1  Delacroix,  "Etudes  sur  le  Mysticisme,"  p.  75.   The  reference  in  the  last  sentence 
is  to  St.  Teresa's  "  Castillo  Interior." 


MYSTICISM  AND  THEOLOGY  131 

Secondly,  in  the  Person  of  Christ,  Teresa  isolated  and 
distinguished  the  Logos  or  Creative  Word,  the  expression, 
outbirth,  or  manifestation  of  the  Father's  thought.  Here  is 
the  point  at  which  the  Divine  Substance  first  becomes  appre- 
hensible by  the  spirit  of  man ;  here  that  mediating  principle 
"  raised  up  between  heaven  and  earth  "  which  is  at  once  the 
Mirror  of  Pure  Being  and  the  Light  of  a  finite  world.  The 
Second  Person  of  the  Christian  Trinity  is  for  the  believer  not 
only  the  brightness  or  manifestation  of  Deity,  but  also  the 
personal,  inexhaustible,  and  responsive  Fount  of  all  life  and 
Object  of  all  love  :  Who,  because  of  His  taking  up  (in  the 
Incarnation)  of  humanity  into  the  Godhead,  is  of  necessity 
the  one  and  only  Bridge  between  the  finite  and  infinite, 
between  the  individual  and  the  Absolute  Life,  and  hence  in 
mystic  language  the  "  true  Bridegroom  "  of  every  human  soul. 

Thirdly,  she  recognized  within  herself  the  germ  of  that 
Absolute  Life,  the  indwelling  Spirit  which  is  the  source  of 
man's  transcendental  consciousness  and  his  link  with  the  Being 
of  God.  That  is  to  say,  the  Holy  Spirit  of  Divine  Love,  the 
Real  Desirous  seeking  for  the  Real  Desired,  without  Whose 
presence  any  knowledge  of  or  communion  with  God  on  man's 
part  would  be  inconceivable. 

In  the  supreme  Vision  of  the  Trinity  which  was  vouchsafed 
to  St  Teresa  in  the  Seventh  Habitation  of  the  soul,  these 
three  aspects  became  fused  in  One.  In  the  deepest  recesses 
of  her  spirit,  in  that  unplumbed  abyss  where  selfhood  ceases 
to  have  meaning,  and  the  individual  soul  touches  the  life  of 
the  All,  distinction  vanished  and  she  "saw  God  in  a  point" 
Such  an  experience,  such  an  intuition  of  simple  and  undifferenti- 
ated Godhead — the  Unity — beyond  those  three  centres  of  Divine 
Consciousness  which  we  call  the  Trinity  of  Persons,  is  highly 
characteristic  of  mysticism.  The  German  mystics — tempera- 
mentally miles  asunder  from  Teresa — described  it  as  the 
attainment  of  the  "  still  wilderness  "  or  u  lonely  desert  of 
Deity  "  :  the  limitless  Divine  Abyss,  impersonal, ,  indescribable, 
for  ever  hid  in  the  Cloud  of  Unknowing,  and  yet  the  true 
Country  of  the  Soul.1 

1  See  Tauler,  Sermon  on  St.  John  Baptist,  and  Third  Instruction  (u  The  Inner 
Way,"  pp.  97  and  321)  ;  Suso,  "Buchlein  von  der  Wahrheit,"  cap.  v. ;  Ruysbroeck, 
"L'Ornement  des  Noces  Spirituelles,"  1.  iii.  caps  ii.  and  vi. 


132  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

These  propositions,  which  appear  when  thus  laid  down  to 
be  hopelessly  academic,  violently  divorced  from  life,  were  not 
for  St.  Teresa  or  any  other  Christian  mystic  propositions  at  all ; 
but  attempts  towards  the  description  of  first-hand  experience. 
"  How  this  vision  comes  to  pass,"  she  says,  "  I  know  not ;  but 
it  does  come  to  pass,  and  the  three  Persons  of  the  Holy  Trinity 
then  show  themselves  to  the  soul  with  a  radiance  as  of  fire, 
which,  like  a  shining  cloud,  first  invades  the  mind  and  admirably 
illuminates  it.  Then  she  sees  those  three  distinct  Persons,  and 
she  knows  with  a  sovereign  truth  that  these  three  are  One  in 
substance,  One  in  Power,  One  in  wisdom,  One  God:  so  that 
those  things  which  we  know  in  this  world  by  faith,  the  soul,  in 
this  light,  understands  by  a  sort  of  vision  which  is  neither  the 
vision  of  the  body  nor  that  of  the  soul ;  for  it  is  not  a  sensible 
vision.  There  those  three  Persons  communicate  Themselves  to 
the  soul,  and  speak  to  her  and  ...  it  seems  to  her  that  these 
three  divine  Persons  have  never  left  her  :  she  sees  clearly,  in  the 
manner  which  I  have  described,  that  they  are  within  her  soul, 
in  its  most  inward  part,  as  it  were  within  a  deep  abyss.  This 
person,  a  stranger  to  learning,  knows  not  how  to  tell  what  is 
this  deep  abyss,  but  it  is  there  that  she  feels  within  herself  this 
divine  companionship." x 

Mystical  writers  remind  us  over  and  over  again,  that  life  as 
perceived  by  the  human  mind  shows  an  inveterate  tendency  to 
arrange  itself  in  triads  :  that  if  they  proclaim  the  number  Three 
in  the  heavens,  they  can  also  point  to  it  as  dominating  every- 
where upon  the  earth.  Here  Christianity  did  but  give  form 
to  the  deepest  instinct  of  the  human  mind :  an  instinct  which 
made  Pythagoras  call  Three  the  number'  of  God  because 
beginning,  middle,  and  end  were  contained  therein.  Thus  to 
Hindu  thought  the  Absolute  Godhead  was  unknowable,  but 
He  disclosed  three  faces  to  man — Brahma  the  Creator, 
Shiva  the  Destroyer,  Krishna  the  Repairer — and  these  three 
were  One.  So  too  the  Neoplatonists,  touched  by  the  spirit 
of  the  East,  distinguished  three  worlds ;  the  Sensible  or 
Phenomenal,  the  Rational  or  Intellectual,  the  Intelligible  or 
Spiritual ;  and  three  aspects  of  God — the  Unconditioned 
Absolute,  the  Logos  or  Artificer,  and  the  divine  Essence  or 
Spirit  which  is  both  absolute  and  created.     We  have  here,  as 

1  St.  Teresa,  "El  Castillo  Interior,"  Moradas  Setimas,  cap.  i. 


MYSTICISM  AND  THEOLOGY  133 

it  were,  the  first  sketch  of  the  Christian  Trinity ;  the  dry 
bones  awaiting  the  breath  of  more  abundant  life.  Correspond- 
ing with  this  diagram  of  God's  nature,  they  see  also  three 
grades  of  beauty;  the  Corporeal,  the  Spiritual,  and  the  Divine. 

Man,  that  "  thing  of  threes,"  of  body,  soul  and  spirit,  follows 
in  his  path  towards  unity  the  Threefold  Way  :  for  "  our  soul," 
says  Lady  Julian,  "  is  made-trinity  like  to  the  unmade  blissful 
Trinity,  known  and  loved  from  without  beginning,  and  in  the 
making  oned  to  the  Maker."  *  So  too  we  have  seen  that 
the  psychic  self  is  most  easily  understood  by  a  division  into 
Emotion,  Intellect,  and  Will.  Even  the  separation  of  things 
into  Subject  and  Object  implies  a  third  term,  the  relation 
between  them,  without  which  no  thought  can  be  complete. 
Therefore  the  very  principle  of  analogy  imposes  upon  man  a 
Trinitarian  definition  of  Reality  as  the  one  with  which  his 
mind  is  best  able  to  cope.2  It  is  easy  for  the  hurried  rationalist 
to  demonstrate  the  absurdity  of  this  circumstance,  but  he  will 
find  it  a  very  different  matter  when  it  comes  to  disproving  it. 

"  I  could  wish,"  says  St.  Augustine,  "  that  men  would  con- 
sider these  three  things  that  are  in, themselves  .  .  .  To  Be,  To 
Know,  and  to  Will.  For  I  am,  and  I  know,  and  I  will ;  I  am 
knowing  and  willing,  and  I  know  myself  to  be  and  to  will ;  and 
I  will  to  be  and  to  know.  In  these  three  therefore  let  him  who 
can,  see  how  inseparable  a  life  there  is — even  one  life,  one  mind 
one  essence  :  finally,  how  inseparable  is  the  distinction,  and  yet 
a  distinction.  Surely  a  man  hath  it  before  him  :  let  him  look 
into  himself  and  see  and  tell  me.  But  when  he  discovers  and 
can  see  anything  of  these,  let  him  not  think  that  he  has  dis- 
covered that  which  is  above  these  Unchangeable  :  which  Is 
unchangeably  and  Knows  unchangeably  and  Wills  un- 
changeably." 3 

In  one  of  the  best  recorded  instances  of  pure  mystical 
vision,  Julian  of  Norwich  saw  the  Trinity  of  the  Divine  Nature 
shining  in  the  phenomenal  as  well  as   in  the   spiritual  world. 

x  Julian  of  Norwich,  "  Revelations  of  Divine  Love,"  cap.  lv.  So  St.  Thomas  says 
("  Summa  Contra  Gentiles,"  1.  iv.  cap.  xxvi),  "A  likeness  of  the  Divine  Trinity  is 
observable  in  the  human  mind." 

2  "The  three  Persons  of  the  Trinity,"  said  John  Scotus  Erigena,  "are  less  modes 
of  the  Divine  Substance  than  modes  under  which  our  mind  conceives  the  Divine 
Substance" — a  stimulating  statement  ot  dubious  orthodoxy. 

3  Aug.  Conf.,  bk.  xiii.  cap.  xi. 


134  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

"  He  showed  me,"  she  says,  "  a  little  thing,  the  quantity  of  an 
hazel  nut,  in  the  palm  of  my  hand;  and  it  was  as  round  as  a 
ball.  I  looked  thereupon  with  the  eye  of  my  understanding, 
and  thought,  What  may  this  be  ?  And  it  was  answered  gener- 
ally thus  :  It  is  all  that  is  made.  ...  In  this  Little  Thing  I  saw 
three  properties.  The  first  is  that  God  made  it,  the  second  is 
that  God  loveth  it,  the  third,  that  God  keepeth  it.  But  what 
is  to  me  verily  the  Maker,  the  Keeper,  and  the  Lover,  I 
cannot  tell."1 

Julian  the  anchoress,  a  simple  and  deeply  human  English- 
woman of  middle  age  dwelling  alone  in  her  churchyard  cell) 
with  only  a  tiny  window  by  which  to  see  and  hear  the  outer 
world,  might  well  be  called  the  poet  of  the  Trinity :  that 
austere  and  subtle  dogma  of  which  the  mystics  of  the  fourteenth 
century  write  with  a  passion  which  will  be  little  understood  by 
those  who  look  upon  it  as  "  orthodoxy  reduced  to  mathematics." 

That  most  lovable  and  poetic  of  visionaries,  who  seems  in 
her  Revelations  of  Love  to  dream  before  a  Crucifix  set  up  in 
flowery  fields,  treats  this  highly  metaphysical  doctrine  with  a 
homely  intimacy  and  a  vigorous  originality  which  carry  with 
them  at  any  rate  a  conviction  of  her  own  direct  and  personal 
apprehension  of  the  truth  which  she  struggles  to  describe.  "  I 
beheld,"  she  says  of  a  vision  which  is  closely  parallel  to  that  of 
St.  Teresa  in  the  "Seventh  Habitation  of  the  Soul,"  and  far  more 
lucidly  if  less  splendidly  expressed,  "the  working  of  all  the 
blessed  Trinity :  in  which  beholding,  I  saw  and  understood 
these  three  properties :  the  property  of  the  Fatherhood,  the 
property  of  the  Motherhood,  and  the  property  of  the  Lordhood, 
in  one  God.  In  our  Father  Almighty  we  have  our  keeping  and 
our  bliss  as  anent  our  natural  Substance,2  which  is  to  us  by  our 
making,  without  beginning.  And  in  the  Second  Person  in  wit 
and  wisdom  we  have  our  keeping  as  anent  our  Sense-soul :  our 
restoring  and  our  saving  ;  for  He  is  our  Mother,  Brother,  and 
Saviour.  And  in  our  good  Lord,  the  Holy  Ghost,  we  have  our 
rewarding  and  our  meed-giving  for  our  living  and  our  travail, 
and  endless  overpassing  of  all  that  we  desire,  in  His  marvellous 
courtesy,  of  His  high  plenteous  grace.     For  all  our  life  is  in 

1  Op.  cit.,  cap.  v. 

2  Substance  is  here,  of  course,  to  be  understood  in  the  scholastic  sense,  as  the 
reality  which  underlies  merely  phenomenal  existence. 


MYSTICISM  AND  THEOLOGY  135 

three:  in  the  first  we  have  our  Being,  in  the  second  we  have 
our  Increasing,  and  in  the  third  we  have  our  Fulfilling ;  the  first 
is  Nature,  the  second  is  Mercy,  and  the  third  is  Grace.1  .  .  . 
The  high  Might  of  the  Trinity  is  our  Father,  and  the  deep 
Wisdom  of  the  Trinity  is  our  Mother,  and  the  great  Love  of 
the  Trinity  is  our  Lord :  and  all  this  we  have  in  Nature  and 
in  our  Substantial  Making."2 

Again,  in  a  passage  of  exquisite  tenderness,  which  comes 
after  the  fire  and  dark  of  Teresa  like  cooling  waters  to  the  soul : 
**  As  verily  as  God  is  our  Father,  so  verily  God  is  our  Mother ; 
and  that  shewed  He  in  all  [her  revelations]  and  especially  in 
these  sweet  words  where  He  saith :  /  it  am.  That  is  to  say, 
/  it  am,  the  Might  and  the  Goodness  of  the  Fatherhood ;  I  it  am, 
the  Wisdom  of  the  Motherhood ;  I  it  am,  the  Light  and  the  Grace 
that  is  all  blessed  Love  ;  I  it  am,  the  Trinity,  I  it  am,  the  Unity  : 
I  am  the  sovereign  Goodness  of  all  manner  of  things.  I  am  that 
maketh  thee  to  love:  I  am  that  maketh  thee  to  long:  I  it  am,  the 
endless  fulfilling  of  all  true  desires?  3 

So  Christopher  Hervey — 

"The  whole  world  round  is  not  enough  to  fill 
The  heart's  three  corners,  but  it  craveth  still. 
Only  the  Trinity  that  made  it  can 
Suffice  the  vast  triangled  heart  of  Man."4 

It  is  a  fact  that  any  attempt  towards  a  definition  of  God 
which  does  not  account  for  and  acknowledge  these  three  aspects 
is  found  in  experience  to  be  incomplete.  They  provide  objec- 
tives for  the  heart,  the  intellect,  and  the  will :  for  they  offer  to 
the  Self  material  for  its  highest  love,  its  deepest  thought,  its 
act  of  supreme  volition.  Under  the  familiar  Platonic  terms  of 
Goodness,  Truth,  and  Beauty,  they  represent  the  divine  source 
and  end  of  Ethics,  Science,  and  Art,  the  three  supreme  activities 

1  I.e.,  the  Second  Person  01  the  Christian  Trinity  is  the  redemptive  "fount  ot 
mercy,"  the  medium  by  which  Grace,  the  free  gift  of  transcendental  life,  reaches  and 
vivifies  human  nature:  "permeates  it,"  in  Eucken's  words,  "with  the  Infinite  and 
Eternal"  ("Der  Sinn  und  Wert  des  Lebens,"  p.  181). 

2  "Revelations  of  Divine  Love,"  cap.  lviii. 

3  Op.  cit.,  cap.  lix. 

4  "The  School  of  the  Heart,"  Epigram  x.  This  book,  which  is  a  free  transla- 
tion of  the  "  Scola  Cordis  "  of  Benedict  Haeften  (1635),  is  often,  but  wrongly,  attributed 
to  Francis  Quarles. 


136  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

of  man.  Thus  the  ideals  of  artist,  student,  and  philanthropist, 
who  all  seek  under  different  modes  the  same  reality,  are  gathered 
up  in  the  mystic's  One ;  as  the  pilgrimage  of  the  three  kings 
ended  in  the  finding  of  one  Star. 

"What  is  God?"  says  St.  Bernard.  "Length,  breadth, 
height,  and  depth,  '  What,'  you  say, '  you  do  after  all  profess 
to  believe  in  the  fourfold  Godhead  which  was  an  abomination 
to  you  ? '  Not  in  the  least.  .  .  .  God  is  designated  One  to  suit 
our  comprehension,  not  to  describe  His  character.  His  character 
is  capable  of  division,  He  Himself  is  not.  The  words  are  different, 
the  paths  are  many,  but  one  thing  is  signified ;  the  paths  lead 
to  one  Person." x 

All  possible  ways  of  conceiving  this  One  Person  are  found 
in  the  end  to  range  themselves  under  three  heads.  He  is  "  above 
all  and  through  all  and  in  you  all,"  2  said  St.  Paul,  anticipating 
the  Councils  in  a  flash  of  mystic  intuition,  and  giving  to  the 
infant  Church  the  shortest  and  most  perfect  definition  of  its 
Triune  God.  Being,  which  is  above  all,  manifests  itself  as 
Becoming;  as  the  dynamic,  omnipresent  Word  of  Life.  The 
Divine  Love  immanent  in  the  heart  and  in  the  world  comes 
forth  from,  and  returns  to,  the  Absolute  One.  Thus  is  com- 
pleted "  the  Eternal  Circle  from  Goodness,  through  Goodness,  to 
Goodness."  3  It  is  true  that  to  these  fundamental  aspects  of  the 
perceived  Godhead — that  Being,  Becoming,  and  Desire  whereto 
the  worlds  keep  time — the  mystics  have  given  many  and  various 
names  ;  for  they  have  something  of  the  freedom  of  true  intimates 
in  treating  of  the  Reality  which  they  love.  In  particular,  those 
symbols  of  the  Absolute  which  are  drawn  from  the  great  and 
formless  forces  of  the  universe,  rather  than  from  the  orthodox 
but  necessarily  anthropomorphic  imagery  of  human  relationship, 
have  always  appealed  to  them.  Their  intense  apprehension  of 
Spirit  seems  to  find  freer  and  more  adequate  expression  in  such 
terms,  than  in  those  in  which  the  notion  of  space  is  involved  or 
which  are  capable  of  suggesting  a  concrete  picture  to  the  mind. 
Though  they  know  as  well  as  the  philosophers  that  "there  must 
always  be  something  symbolic  in  our  way  of  expressing  the 
spiritual  life,"  since  "  that  unfathomable  infinite  whose  spiritual 
character  is  first  recognized  in  our  human  experience,  can  never 
reveal  itself  fully  and  freely  under  the  limitation  of  our  earthly 

*  «,DeConsideratione,"bk.  v.  cap.  viii.      2  Ephesians  iv.  6.       3  Compare  p.  49. 


MYSTICISM  AND  THEOLOGY  137 

existence  " * ;  yet  they  ever  seek,  like  the  artists  they  are,  some 
new  and  vital  image  which  is  not  yet  part  of  the  debased 
currency  of  popular  religion,  and  conserves  its  original  power  of 
stinging  the  imagination  to  more  vivid  life. 

Thus  "  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven,"  says  Law,  "  stands  in  this 
threefold  life,  where  three  are  one,  because  it  is  a  manifestation 
of  the  Deity,  which  is  Three  and  One ;  the  Father  has  His  dis- 
tinct manifestation  in  the  Fire,  which  is  always  generating  the 
Light;  the  Son  has  His  distinct  manifestation  in  the' Light, 
which  is  always  generated  from  the  Fire ;  the  Holy  Ghost  has 
His  manifestation  in  the  Spirit,  that  always  proceeds  from  both, 
and  is  always  united  with  them.  It  is  this  eternal  unbeginning 
Trinity  in  Unity  of  Fire,  Light,  and  Spirit,  that  constitutes 
Eternal  Nature,  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven,  the  heavenly  Jeru- 
salem, the  Divine  Life,  the  Beatific  Visibility,  the  majestic 
Glory  and  Presence  of  God.  Through  this  Kingdom  of  Heaven, 
or  Eternal  Nature,  is  the  invisible  God,  the  incomprehensible 
Trinity,  eternally  breaking  forth  and  manifesting  itself  in  a 
boundless  height  and  depth  of  blissful  wonders,  opening  and 
displaying  itself  to  all  its  creatures  as  in  an  infinite  variation 
and  endless  multiplicity  of  its  powers,  beauties,  joys,  and 
glories."  2 

Perhaps  an  easier,  better,  more  beautiful  example  of  these 
abstract  symbols  of  the  Trinity  than  Law's  Fire,  Light,  and 
Spirit  is  that  of  Light,  Life,  and  Love :  a  threefold  picture  of 
the  Real  which  is  constantly  dwelt  upon  and  elaborated  by  the 
Christian  mystics.  Transcendent  Light,  intangible  but  un- 
escapeable,  ever  emanating  Its  splendour  through  the  Universe  : 
indwelling,  unresting,  and  energizing  Life :  desirous  and  direc- 
tive Love — these  are  cardinal  aspects  of  Reality  to  which  they 
return  again  and  again  in  their  efforts  to  find  words  which  will 
express  the  inexpressible  truth. 

(a)  LIGHT,  ineffable  and  uncreated,  the  perfect  symbol  of 
pure  undifferentiated  Being :  above  the  intellect,  as  St.  Augus- 
tine reminds  us,  but  known  to  him  who  loves.3    This  Uncreated 

1  Eucken,  "Der  Sinn  una  Wert  des  Lebens,"  p.  131. 

8  "An  Appeal  to  All  who  Doubt"  ("  Liberal  and  Mystical  Writings  of  William 
Law,"  P-  54)-  Law's  symbols  are  here  borrowed  from  the  system  of  his  master, 
Jacob  Boehme.     (See  the  "  De  Signatura  Rerum"  of  Boehme,  cap.  xiv.) 

3  Aug.  Conf.,  bk.  vii.  cap.  x. 


138  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

Light  is  the  "deep  yet  dazzling  darkness"  of  the  Dionysian 
school,  "  dark  from  its  surpassing  brightness  ...  as  the  shining 
of  the  sun  on  his  course  is  as  darkness  to  weak  eyes."  1  It  is 
Hildegarde's  lux  vivensy  Dante's  somtna  luce,  wherein  he  saw 
multiplicity  in  unity,  the  ingathered  leaves  of  all  the  universe  2 : 
the  Eternal  Father,  or  Fount  of  Things.  "  For  well  we  know," 
says  Ruysbroeck,  "  that  the  bosom  of  the  Father  is  our  ground 
and  origin,  wherein  our  life  and  being  is  begun."  3 

(J?)  Life,  the  Son,  hidden  Steersman  of  the  Universe,  the 
Logos,  Fire,  or  Cosmic  soul  of  things.  This  out-birth  or  Con- 
cept of  the  Father's  Mind,  which  He  possesses  within  Himself, 
as  Battista  Vernazza  was  told  in  her  ecstasy ,4  is  that  Word  of 
Creation  which,  since  It  is  alive  and  infinite,  no  formula  can 
contain :  the  Word  eternally  "  spoken "  or  generated  by  the 
Transcendent  Light.  "  This  is  why,"  says  Ruysbroeck  again, 
"  all  that  lives  in  the  hidden  unity  of  the  Father  lives  also  in 
the  Son."  s  This  life,  then,  is  the  flawless  expression  or 
character  of  the  Father,  Sapientia  Patris.  It  is  at  once  the 
personal  and  adorable  Object  of  the  mystic's  adventure — his 
closest  comrade  and  his  beckoning  star — and  the  inmost  prin- 
ciple, the  sustaining  power,  of  a  dynamic  universe ;  for  that 
which  intellect  defines  as  the  Logos  or  Cosmic  Spirit,  contem- 
plative love  knows  as  Wonderful,  Counsellor,  and  Prince  of 
Peace. 

Since  Christ,  for  the  Christian  philosopher,  is  Divine  Life 
Itself — the  drama  of  Christianity  but  expressing  this  fact  and 
its  implications  "  in  a  point " — it  follows  that  His  active  spirit  is 
to  be  discerned,  not  symbolically,  but  in  the  most  veritable 
sense,  in  the  ecstatic  and  abounding  life  of  the  world.  In  the 
rapturous  vitality  of  the  birds,  in  their  splendid  glancing  flight  : 
in  the  swelling  of  buds  and  the  sacrificial  beauty  of  the  flowers  : 
in  the  great  and  solemn  rhythms  of  the  sea — there  is  somewhat 
of  Bethlehem  in  all  these  things,  somewhat  too  of  Calvary  in 
their  self-giving  pains.  It  was  this  re-discovery  of  Nature's 
Christliness  which  Blake  desired  so  passionately  when  he  sang — 

1  Tauler,  3rd  Instruction  ("The  Inner  Way,"  p.  324). 

2  Par.  xxxiii.  67,  85. 

3  "L'Ornement  des  Noces  Spirituelles,"  1.  iii.  cap.  v. 

*  Von  Htigel,  "The  Mystical  Element  of  Religion,"  vol.  i.  p.  357. 
s  Ruysbroeck,  op.  cit.y  be.  cit. 


MYSTICISM  AND  THEOLOGY  139 

"  I  will  not  cease  from  mental  fight, 

Nor  shall  my  sword  sleep  in  my  hand, 
Till  we  have  built  Jerusalem 

In  England's  green  and  pleasant  land." 

Here  then  it  is,  on  this  remote  and  airy  pinnacle  of  faith,  at 
the  utmost  boundaries  of  human  speech,  that  mystical  theology 
suddenly  shows  herself — not  as  the  puzzle-headed  constructor 
of  impossible  creeds,  but  as  accepting  and  transmuting  to  a 
more  radiant  life  those  two  profound  but  apparently  contra- 
dictory metaphysical  definitions  of  Reality  which  we  have 
already  discussed.1  Eternal  Becoming,  God  immanent  and 
dynamic,  striving  with  and  in  His  world :  the  unresting  "  flux 
of  things "  of  Heracleitus,  the  crying  aloud  of  that  Word 
"  which  is  through  all  things  everlastingly  " — the  evolutionary 
world-process  beloved  of  modern  philosophers — is  here  placed 
once  for  all  in  true  relation  with  pure  transcendent  and  un- 
moved Being ;  the  Absolute  One  of  Xenophanes  and  the 
Platonists.  This  Absolute  is  discerned  by  mystic  intuition  as 
the  "  End  of  Unity "  in  whom  all  diversities  must  cease  ; 2 
the  Ocean  to  which  that  ceaseless  and  painful  Becoming,  that 
unresting  river  of  life,  in  which  we  are  immersed,  tends  to 
return  :  the  Son  going  to  the  Father. 

(c)  LOVE,  the  principle  of  attraction,  which  seems  to  partake 
at  once  of  the  transcendental  and  the  created  worlds.  If  we 
consider  the  Father  as  Supreme  Subject — "  origin,"  as  Aquinas 
says,  "of  the  entire  procession  of  Deity "3 — and  the  Son  or 
generated  Logos  as  the  Object  of  His  thought,  in  whom,  says 
Ruysbroeck,  "  He  contemplates  Himself  and  all  things  in  an 
eternal  Now";  4  then  this  personal  Spirit  of  Love,  il  desiro  e  il 
velle,  represents  the  relation  between  the  two,  and  constitutes 
the  very  character  of  the  whole.  "  They  breathe  forth  a 
spirit,"  says  Ruysbroeck,  of  the  First  and  Second  Persons 
"  which  is  their  will  and  love."  5  Proceeding,  according  to 
Christian  doctrine,  from  Light  and  Life,  the  Father  and  Son — 
implicit,  that  is,  in  both  the  Absolute  Source  and  dynamic  flux 
of  things — this  divine  and  unresting  spirit  of  desire  is  found 

1  Supra,  Cap.  II.  a  Tauler,  op.  cit.,  loc.  cit. 

3  "  Summa  Contra  Gentiles,"  1.  iv.  cap.  xxvi. 

4  "  L'Ornement  des  Noces  Spirituelles,"  1.  iii.  cap.  v. 

5  Op.  cit.y  1.  ii.  cap.  xxxvii. 


140  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

enshrined  in  our  very  selfhood  ;  and  is  the  agent  by  which 
that  selfhood  is  merged  in  the  Absolute  Self.  "  My  love  is  my 
weight,"  said  St.  Augustine.1  It  is  the  spiritual  equivalent  of 
that  gravitation  which  draws  all  things  to  their  place.  Thus 
Bernard  Holland  says  in  his  Introduction  to  Boehme's  "  Dia- 
logues/' "  In  a  deep  sense,  the  desire  of  the  Spark  of  Life  in  the 
Soul  to  return  to  its  Original  Source  is  part  of  the  longing  desire 
of  the  universal  Life  for  its  own  heart  or  centre.  Of  this  longing, 
the  universal  attraction,  striving  against  resistance,  towards  a 
universal  centre,  proved  to  govern  the  phenomenal  or  physical 
world,  is  but  the  outer  sheath  and  visible  working."  Again, 
"  Desire  is  everything  in  Nature  ;  does  everything.  Heaven  is 
Nature  filled  with  divine  Life  attracted  by  Desire."  2 

"The  best  masters  say,"  says  Eckhart,  "that  the  love 
wherewith  we  love  is  the  Holy  Spirit.3  Some  deny  it.  But 
this  is  always  true :  all  those  motives  by  which  we  are  moved 
to  love,  in  these  is  nothing  else  than  the  Holy  Spirit."  4 

"  God  wills,"  says  Ruysbroeck,  gathering  these  scattered 
symbols  to  unity  again,  "  that  we  should  come  forth  from  our- 
selves in  this  Eternal  Light ;  that  we  should  pursue  in  a  super- 
natural manner  that  image  which  is  our  true  Life,  and  that  we 
should  possess  it  with  Him  actively  and  fruitively  in  eternal 
blessedness  .  .  .  this  going  forth  of  the  contemplative  is  also 
in  Love  :  for  by  fruitive  love  he  overpasses  his  created  essence 
and  finds  and  tastes  the  riches  and  delights  of  God,  which  He 
causes  to  flow  without  ceasing  in  the  most  secret  chamber  of 
the  soul,  at  that  place  where  it  is  most  like  unto  the  sublimity 
of  God."  5 

Here  only,  in  the  innermost  sanctuary  of  being,  the  soul's 
"  last  habitation,"  as  St.  Teresa  said,  is  the  truth  which  these 
symbols  express  truly  known  :  for  "  as  to  how  the  Trinity  is 

1  Aug.  Conf.,  bk.  xiil.  cap.  ix. 

2  Introduction  to  "  Three  Dialogues  of  the  Supersensual  Life,"  p.  xxx. 

3  Probably  St.  Thomas  Aquinas,  the  usual  source  of  Eckhart's  more  orthodox 
utterances.  Compare  "Summa  Contra  Gentiles,"  1.  iv.  cap.  xxiii :  "Since  the 
Holy  Ghost  proceeds  as  the  love  wherewith  God  loves  Himself,  and  since  God  loves 
with  the  same  love  Himself  and  other  beings  for  the  sake  of  His  own  goodness,  it  is 
clear  that  the  love  wherewith  God  loves  us  belongs  to  the  Holy  Ghost.  In  like 
manner  also  the  love  wherewith  we  love  God." 

4  Pred.  xii. 

s  «  L'Ornement  des  Noces  Spirituelles  "  1.  iii.  cap.  v. 


MYSTICISM  AND  THEOLOGY  141 

one  and  the  Trinity  in  the  unity  of  the  nature  is  one,  whilst 
nevertheless  the  Trinity  comes  forth  from  the  unity,  this  cannot 
be  expressed  in  words,"  says  Suso,  "  owing  to  the  simplicity  of 
that  deep  abyss.  Hither  it  is,  into  this  intelligible  where  that 
the  spirit,  spiritualizing  itself,  soars  up;  now  flying  in  the 
measureless  heights,  now  swimming  in  the  soundless  deeps,  of 
the  sublime  marvels  of  the  Godhead  ! "  x 

Mystical  philosophy,  then,  has  availed  itself  gladly  of 
the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity  in  expressing  its  vision  of  the 
nature  of  that  Absolute  which  is  found,  by  those  who  attain  the 
deep  Abyss  of  the  Godhead,  to  be  essentially  One.  But  it  is 
by  the  complementary  Christian  dogma  of  the  Incarnation 
that  it  has  best  been  able  to  describe  and  explain  the 
nature  of  the  inward  and  personal  mystic  experience.  "Man 
in  the  course  of  his  attainment,"  says  a  living  authority  on 
mysticism,  "is  at  first  three — body,  soul,  and  spirit — that  is, 
when  he  sets  out  on  the  Great  Quest ;  he  is  two  at  a  certain 
stage — when  the  soul  has  conceived  Christ,  for  the  spirit  has 
then  descended  and  the  body  is  for  the  time  being  outside  the 
Divine  Alliance  ;  but  he  is  in  fine  one — that  is  to  say,  when 
the  whole  man  has  died  in  Christ — which  is  the  term  of  his 
evolution."  a 

The  Incarnation,  which  is  for  popular  Christianity  synony- 
mous with  the  historical  birth  and  earthly  life  of  Christ,  is  for  the 
mystic  not  only  this  but  also  a  perpetual  Cosmic  and  personal 
process.  It  is  an  everlasting  bringing  forth,  in  the  universe 
and  also  in  the  individual  ascending  soul,  of  the  divine  and 
perfect  Life,  the  pure  character  of  God,  of  which  the  one  his- 
torical life  dramatized  the  essential  constituents.  Hence  the 
soul,  like  the  physical  embryo,  resumes  in  its  upward  progress 
the  spiritual  life-history  of  the  race.  "The  one  secret,  the 
greatest  of  all,"  says  Patmore,  is  "  the  doctrine  of  the  Incarna- 
tion, regarded  not  as  an  historical  event  which  occurred  two 
thousand  years  ago,  but  as  an  event  which  is  renewed  in  the 
body  of  every  one  who  is  in  the  way  to  the  fulfilment  of  his 
original  destiny."  3 

We  have  seen  that  for  mystical  theology  the  Second  Person 

*  Suso,  Leben,  cap.  lvi. 

2  A.  E.  Waite,  "The  Hidden  Church  of  the  Holy  Grail," p.  539. 

3  "  The  Rod,  the  Root,  and  the  Flower,"  "  Homo,"  xix. 


142  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

of  the  Trinity  is  the  Wisdom  of  the  Father,  the  Word  of  Life. 
The  fullness  of  this  Word  could  therefore  only  be  communicated 
to  the  human  consciousness  by  a  Life.  In  the  Incarnation  this 
Logos,  this  divine  character  of  Reality,  penetrated  the  illusions 
of  the  sensual  world — in  other  words,  the  illusions  of  all  the 
selves  whose  ideas  compose  that  world — and  "  saved  "  it  by  this 
infusion  of  truth.  A  divine,  suffering,  self-sacrificing  Person- 
ality was  then  shown  as  the  sacred  heart  of  a  living,  striving 
universe:  and  for  once  the  Absolute  was  exhibited  in  the 
terms  of  finite  existence.  Some  such  event  as  this  breaking 
through  of  the  divine  and  archetypal  life  into  the  temporal  world 
is  perceived  by  the  mystical  philosopher  to  be  a  necessity  if  man 
was  ever  to  see  in  terms  of  life  that  greatness  of  life  to  which 
he  belongs :  learn  to  transcend  the  world  of  sense,  and  rebuild 
his  life  upon  the  levels  of  reality.  Thus  it  is  that  the  Catholic 
priest  in  the  Christmas  Mass  gives  thanks,  not  for  the  setting 
in  hand  of  any  commercial  process  of  redemption,  but  for  a 
revelation  of  reality,  "  Quia  per  incarnati  Verbi  mysterium, 
nova  mentis  nostrae  oculis  lux  tuae  claritatis  infulsit :  ut  dum 
visibiliter  Deum  cognoscimus,  per  hunc  in  invisibilium  amorem 
rapiamur."  The  very  essence  of  mystical  Christianity  seems 
to  be  summed  up  in  these  lovely  words.1 

"  The  Son  of  God,  the  Eternal  Word  in  the  Father,  who  is 
the  glance,  or  brightness,  and  the  power  of  the  light  eternity," 
says  Boehme,  "  must  become  man  and  be  born  in  you,  if  you 
will  know  God :  otherwise  you  are  in  the  dark  stable  and  go 
about  groping."  2  "  The  Word,"  says  Ruysbroeck  finely,  "  is  no 
other  than  See.  And  this  is  the  coming  forth  and  the  birth  of 
the  Son  of  the  Eternal  Light,  in  Whom  all  blessedness  is  seen 
and  known."  3 

Once  at  any  rate,  they  say  in  effect,  the  measure  of  that 
which  it  was  possible  for  the  Spirit  of  Life  to  do  and  for  living 
creatures  to  be,  was  filled  to  the  brim.  By  this  event,  all 
were  assured  that  the  ladder  of  Creation  was  made  whole ;  in 


1  "  Because  by  the  mystery  of  the  Incarnate  Word  the  new  light  of  Thy  brightness 
hath  shone  upon  the  eyes  of  our  mind  :  that  we,  knowing  God  seen  of  the  eyes,  by 
Him  may  be  snatched  up  into  the  love  of  that  which  eye  hath  not  seen  "  (Missale 
Romanum.     Praefatio  Solemnis  de  Nativitate). 

2  "  The  Threefold  Life  of  Man,"  cap.  hi.  §  31. 

3  Ruysbroeck,  op.  cit.t  1.  iii.  cap.  i. 


MYSTICISM  AND  THEOLOGY  143 

this  hypostatic  union,  the  breach  between  appearance  and 
reality,  between  God  and  man,  was  healed.  The  Bridge  so 
made — to  use  St.  Catherine  of  Siena's  allegory  again — is 
eternal,  since  it  was  "  laid  before  the  foundation  of  the  world  " 
in  the  "Eternal  Now."  Thus  the  voice  of  the  Father  says 
to  her  in  that  vision,  "  I  also  wish  thee  to  look  at  the  Bridge 
of  My  only-begotten  Son,  and  see  the  greatness  thereof,  for 
it  reaches  from  Heaven  to  earth  ;  that  is,  that  the  earth  of 
your  humanity  is  joined  to  the  greatness  of  the  Deity  thereby. 
I  say,  then,  that  this  Bridge  reaches  from  Heaven  to  earth,  and 
constitutes  the  union  which  I  have  made  with  man.  ...  So 
the  height  of  the  Divinity,  humbled  to  the  earth,  and  joined 
with  your  humanity,  made  the  Bridge  and  reformed  the  road. 
Why  was  this  done  ?  In  order  that  man  might  come  to  his 
true  happiness  with  the  angels.  And  observe  that  it  is  not 
enough,  in  order  that  you  should  have  life,  that  My  Son 
should  have  made  you  this  Bridge,  unless  you  walk  there- 
on."x  "Our  high  Father  God  Almighty,  which  is  Being," 
says  Lady  Julian,  "  He  knew  and  loved  us  from  afore  any  time. 
Of  which  knowing,  in  His  marvellous  deep  charity,  and  the 
foreseeing  counsel  of  all  the  blessed  Trinity,  He  willed  that 
the  Second  Person  should  become  our  Mother."2 

It  is  of  course  this  quickening  communication  of  grace 
to  nature,  of  God  to  man — this  claim  to  an  influx  of  ultimate 
reality,  possible  of  assimilation  by  all — which  constitutes  the 
strength  of  the  Christian  religion.  Instead  of  the  stony  diet 
of  the  philosophers,  it  offers  to  the  self  hungry  for  the  Absolute 
that  Pants  Angelorum,  the  vivifying  principle  of  the  world. 
That  is  to  say,  it  gives  positive  and  experimental  knowledge 
of  and  union  with  a  supreme  Personality — absorption  into  His 
mystical  body — instead  of  the  artificial  conviction  produced 
by  concentration  on  an  idea.  It  knits  up  the  universe ;  shows 
the  phenomenal  pierced  in  all  directions  by  the  real,  and  made 
one  with  it.  It  provides  a  solid  basis  for  mysticism :  a  basis 
which  is  at  once  metaphysical  and  psychological :  and  shows 
that  state  towards  which  the  world's  deepest  minds  have  always 
instinctively  aspired,  as  a  part  of  the  Cosmic  return  through 
Christ  to  God. 

1  Dialogo,  cap.  xxii. 

2  "  Revelations  of  Divine  Love,"  cap.  lix. 


144  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

"Quivi  e  la  sapienza  e  la  possanza 

ch'  apri  le  strade  intra  il  cielo  e  la  terra 
onde  fu  gia  si  lunga  disianza."1 

This  is  what  the  Christian  mystics  mean  to  express  when 
they  declare  over  and  over  again  that  the  return  to  the  Divine 
Substance,  the  Absolute,  which  is  the  end  of  the  soul's  ascent, 
can  only  be  made  through  the  humanity  of  Christ.  The  Son, 
the  Word,  is  the  character  of  the  Father:  that  in  which  the 
Ineffable  Godhead  knows  Himself,  as  we  only  know  ourselves 
in  our  own  characters.  He  is  thus  a  double  link  :  the  means  of 
God's  self-consciousness,  the  means  of  man's  consciousness  of 
God.  How  then,  asks  mystic  theology,  could  such  a  link 
complete  its  attachments  without  some  such  process  as  that 
which  the  Incarnation  dramatized  in  time  and  space?  The 
Principle  of  Life  is  also  the  Principle  of  Restitution  ;  by 
which  the  imperfect  and  broken  life  of  sense  is  mended  and 
transformed  into  the  perfect  life  of  spirit.  Hence  the  title  of 
Repairer  applied  by  Boehme  and  Saint-Martin  to  the  Second 
Person  of  the  Trinity. 

In  the  last  resort,  the  doctrine  of  the  Incarnation  is  the 
only  safeguard  of  the  mystics  against  the  pantheism  to  which 
they  always  tend.  The  Unconditioned  Absolute,  so  soon  as 
it  alone  becomes  the  object  of  their  contemplation,  is  apt  to  be 
conceived  merely  as  Divine  Essence ;  the  idea  of  Personality 
evaporates  and  loving  communion  is  at  an  end.  This  is 
probably  the  reason  why  so  many  of  the  greatest  contem- 
platives — Suso  and  St.  Teresa  are  cases  in  point— have  found 
that  deliberate  meditation  upon  the,  humanity  of  Christ, 
difficult  and  uncongenial  as  is  this  concrete  devotion  to  the 
mystical  temperament,  was  a  necessity  if  they  were  to  retain 
a  healthy  and  well-balanced  inner  life. 

Further,  these  mystics  see  in  the  historic  life  of  Christ 
an  epitome — or  if  you  will,  an  exhibition — of  the  essentials 
of  all  spiritual  life.  There  they  see  dramatized  not  only  the 
Cosmic  process  of  the  Divine  Wisdom,  but  also  the  inward 
experience  of  every  soul  on  her  Tvay  to  union  with  that 
Absolute  "  to  which  the  whole  Creation  moves."    This  is  why 

x  Par.  xxxiii.  37.  "  Here  is  the  Wisdom  and  the  Power  which  opened  the 
ways  betwixt  heaven  and  earth,  for  which  there  erst  had  been  so  long  a  yearning." 


MYSTICISM  AND  THEOLOGY  145 

the  expressions  which  they  use  to  describe  the  evolution  of 
the  mystical  consciousness  from  the  birth  of  the  divine  in  the 
spark  of  the  soul  to  its  final  unification  with  the  Absolute 
Life  are  so  constantly  chosen  from  the  Drama  of  Faith.  In 
this  drama  they  see  described  under  veils  the  supreme  and 
necessary  adventures  of  the  spirit.  Its  obscure  and  humble 
birth,  its  education  in  poverty,  its  temptation,  mortification,  and 
solitude,  its  "  illuminated  life  "  of  service  and  contemplation,  the 
desolation  of  that  "  dark  night  of  the  soul "  in  which  it  seems 
abandoned  by  the  Divine  :  the  painful  death  of  the  self,  its 
resurrection  to  the  glorified  existence  of  the  Unitive  Way,  its 
final  reabsorption  in  its  Source — all  these,  they  say,  were  lived 
once  in  a  supreme  degree  in  the  flesh.  Moreover,  the  degree 
of  closeness  with  which  the  individual  experience  adheres 
to  this  Pattern  is  always  taken  by  them  as  a  standard 
of  the  healthiness,  ardour,  and  success  of  its  transcendental 
activities. 

"Apparve  in  questa  forma 
Per  dare  a  noi  la  norma." 

sang  Jacopone  da  Todi.  "  And  he  who  vainly  thinketh  other- 
wise," says  the  "  Theologia  Germanica  "  with  uncompromising 
vigour,  "  is  deceived.     And  he  who  saith  otherwise,  lieth."  * 

Those  to  whom  such  a  parallel  seems  artificial  to  the  last 
degree  should  remember  that  according  to  the  doctrine  of 
mysticism  that  drama  of  the  self-limitation  and  self-sacrifice 
of  the  Absolute  Life,  which  was  once  played  out  in  the  pheno- 
menal world — forced,  as  it  were,  upon  the  consciousness  of 
dim-eyed  men — is  eternally  going  forward  upon  the  plane  of 
reality.  To  them  the  Cross  of  Calvary  is  implicit  in  the  Rose 
of  the  World.  The  law  of  this  Infinite  Life,  which  was  in 
the  Incarnation  expressing  Its  own  nature  to  a  supreme  degree, 
must  then  also  be  the  law  of  the  finite  life ;  in  so  far  as  that  life 
aspires  to  transcend  individual  limitations,  rise  to  freedom, 
and  attain  union  with  Infinity.  It  is  this  governing  idea  which 
justifies  the  apparently  fanciful  allegorizations  of  Christian 
history  which  swarm  in  the  works  of  the  mystics. 

To  exhibit  these  allegorizations  in  any  detail  would  be 
tedious.     All  that  is  necessary  is  that  the  principle  underlying 

1  "Theologia  Germanica,"  cap.  xviii. 


116  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

them  should  be  understood,  when  anyone  can  make  without 
difficulty  the  specific  attributions.  I  give,  then,  but  one 
example :  that  which  is  referred  by  mystical  writers  to  the 
Nativity,  and  concerns  the  eternal  Birth  or  Generation  of  the 
Son  or  Divine  Word. 

This  Birth  is  in  its  first,  or  Cosmic  sense,  the  welling  forth 
of  the  Spirit  of  Life  from  the  Divine  Abyss  of  the  unconditioned 
Godhead.  "From  our  proper  Source,  that  is  to  say,  from  the 
Father  and  all  that  which  lives  in  Him,  there  shines,"  says  Ruys- 
broeck,  "  an  eternal  Ray,  the  which  is  the  Birth  of  the  Son." * 
It  is  of  this  perpetual  generation  of  the  Word  that  Meister 
Eckhart  speaks,  when  he  says  in  his  Christmas  sermon,  "  We 
are  celebrating  the  feast  of  the  Eternal  Birth  which  God 
the  Father  has  borne  and  never  ceases  to  bear  in  all  Eternity : 
whilst  this  birth  also  comes  to  pass  in  Time  and  in  human 
nature.  Saint  Augustine  says  this  Birth  is  ever  taking  place.' 
At  this  point,  with  that  strong  practical  instinct  which  is 
characteristic  of  the  mystics,  Eckhart  turns  abruptly  from 
speculation  to  immediate  experience,  and  continues,  "  But  if  it 
takes  not  place  in  me,  what  avails  it  ?  Everything  lies  in  this, 
that  it  should  take  place  in  me."  2 

Here  in  a  few  words  the  two-fold  character  of  this  Mystic 
Birth  is  exhibited.  The  interest  is  suddenly  deflected  from  its 
Cosmic  to  its  personal  aspect ;  and  the  individual  is  reminded 
that  in  him,  no  less  than  in  the  Archetypal  Universe,  real  life 
must  be  born  if  real  life  is  to  be  lived.  "When  the  soul  brings 
forth  the  Son,"  he  says  in  another  place,  "  it  is  happier  than 
Mary."  3 

Since  the  soul,  according  to  mystic  principles,  can  only 
perceive  Reality  in  proportion  as  she  is  real,  know  God  by 
becoming   God-like,  it   is  clear   that   this  birth   is    the    initial 

1  "  L'Ornement  des  Noces  Spirituelles,"  1.  iii.  cap.  v.  The  extreme  antiquity 
of  this  idea  is  illustrated  by  the  Catholic  practice,  dating  from  Patristic  times,  of 
celebrating  three  Masses  on  Christmas  Day.  Of  these  the  first,  at  midnight,  com- 
memorates the  Eternal  Generation  of  the  Son  j  the  second,  at  dawn,  His  incarnation 
upon  earth  ;  the  third  His  birth  in  the  heart  of  man.  See  Kellner,  "  Heortology" 
(English  translation,  London,  1908),  p.  156. 

3  Eckhart,  Pred.  i.,  "  Mystische  Schriften,"  p.  13.  Compare  Tauler,  Sermon 
on  the  Nativity  of  Our  Lady  ("  The  Inner  Way,"  p.  167). 

3  This  idea  of  re-birth  is  probably  of  Oriental  origin.  It  can  be  traced  back  to 
Egypt,  being  found  in  the  Hermetic  writings  of  the  third  century  B.C.  See  Petrie, 
"  Personal  Religion  in  Egypt  before  Christianity,"  p.  167. 


MYSTICISM  AND   THEOLOGY  147 

necessity.  The  true  and  definitely  directed  mystical  life  does 
and  must  open  with  that  most  actual  and  stupendous,  though 
indescribable  phenomenon,  the  coming  forth  into  consciousness 
of  man's  deeper,  spiritual  self,  which  ascetical  and  mystical 
writers  of  all  ages  have  agreed  to  call  Regeneration  or  Re-birth. 

We  have  already  considered  x  the  New  Birth  in  its  purely 
psychological  aspect,  as  the  emergence  of  the  transcendental 
sense.  Here  its  more  profound  and  mystical  side  is  exhibited,  its 
divine  character  revealed.  By  a  process  which  may  indifferently 
be  described  as  the  birth  of  something  new  or  the  coming  forth 
of  something  which  has  slept — since  both  these  phrases  are  but 
metaphors  for  another  and  more  secret  thing — the  eye  is 
opened  on  Eternity ;  the  self,  abruptly  made  aware  of  Reality, 
comes  forth  from  the  cave  of  illusion  like  a  child  from  the  womb 
and  begins  to  live  upon  the  supersensual  plane.  Then  she 
feels  in  her  inmost  part  a  new  presence,  a  new  consciousness — 
it  were  hardly  an  exaggeration  to  say  a  new  Person — weak, 
demanding  nurture,  clearly  destined  to  pass  through  many 
phases  of  development  before  its  maturity  is  reached  ;  yet  of  so 
strange  a  nature,  that  in  comparison  with  its  environment  she 
may  well  regard  it   as  Divine. 

"  This  change,  this  upsetting,  is  called  re-birth.  To  be  born 
simply  means  to  enter  into  a  world  in  which  the  senses  dominate, 
in  which  wisdom  and  love  languish  in  the  bonds  of  individuality. 
To  be  re-born  means  to  return  to  a  world  where  the  spirit 
of  wisdom  and  love  governs  and  animal-man  obeys." 2  So 
Eckartshausen.  It  means,  says  Jane  Lead,  "  the  bringing  forth 
of  a  new-created  Godlike  similitude  in  the  soul."  3  This  *  God- 
like similitude,"  or  New  Man,  is  described  by  Saint-Martin  as 
"  born  in  the  midst  of  humiliations,  his  whole  history  being  that 
of  God  suffering  within  us."  4  He  is  brought  forth,  says 
Eckartshausen  again,  in  the  stable  previously  inhabited  by  the 
ox  of  passion  and  the  ass  of  prejudices  His  mother,  says 
Boehme,  is  the  Virgin  Sophia,  the  Divine  Wisdom,  or  Mirror 
of  the  Being  of  God.  With  the  emergence  of  this  new 
and  sublime  factor  into  the  conscious  field — this  spiritual  birth 

1  Supra,  p.  63.  2  f  The  Cloud  upon  the  Sanctuary,"  p.  77. 

3  **  The  Enochian  Walks  with  God,"  p.  3. 

*  A.  E.  Waite,  "  Louis  Claude  de  Saint- Martin,"  p.  263. 

s  Op.  cit.,  p.  81. 


148  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

— the  mystic  life  begins  :  as  the  Christian  epoch  began  with  the 
emergence  of  Divine  Spirit  in  the  flesh.  Paradise,  says  Boehme, 
is  still  in  the  world,  but  man  is  not  in  Paradise  unless  he  be  born 
again.  In  that  case,  he  stands  therein  in  the  New  Birth.1  He 
has  been  lifted,  as  Eucken  would  say,  to  the  "  spiritual  level," 
and  there  finds  Paradise,  the  Independent  Spiritual  Life  "  not 
alien  but  his  own."  2 

Here  then  are  one  or  two  characteristics  of  the  map  which 
we  shall  find  the  Christian  mystics  most  inclined  to  use. 
There  are,  of  course,  other  great  landmarks  upon  it:  and  these 
we  shall  meet  as  we  follow  in  detail  the  voyages  of  the  questing 
soul.  One  warning,  however,  must  be  given  to  amateur 
geographers  before  we  go  on.  Like  all  other  maps,  this  one  at 
its  best  can  but  represent  by  harsh  outline  and  conventional 
colour  the  living  earth  which  those  travellers  have  trod.  It  is  a 
deliberately  schematic  representation  of  Reality,  a  flat  and 
sometimes  arid  symbol  of  great  landscapes,  rushing  rivers, 
awful  peaks :  dangerous  unless  these  its  limitations  be  always 
kept  in  mind.  The  boy  who  defined  Canada  as  "  very  pink  " 
was  not  much  further  off  the  track  than  those  who  would  limit 
the  Adorable  Trinity  to  the  definitions  of  the  "  Athanasian  " 
Creed ;  however  useful  that  chart  may  be,  and  is,  within  the 
boundaries  imposed  by  its  form. 

Further,  all  such  maps,  and  we  who  treat  of  them,  can  but 
set  down  in  cold  blood  and  with  a  dreadful  pretence  of  precision, 
matters  which  the  true  explorers  of  Eternity  were  only  able  to 
apprehend  in  the  ardours  of  such  a  passion,  in  the  transports  of 
such  a  union  as  we,  poor  finite  slaves  of  our  frittered  emotions, 
could  hardly  look  upon  and  live.  "If  you  would  truly  know 
how  these  things  come  to  pass,"  says  St.  Bonaventura,  in  a 
passage  which  all  students  of  theology  should  ever  keep  in 
mind,  "  ask  it  of  grace,  not  of  doctrine ;  of  desire,  not  of 
intellect ;  of  the  ardours  of  prayer,  not  of  the  teachings  of  the 
schools ;  of  the  Bridegroom,  not  of  the  Master ;  of  God,  not 
of  man  ;  of  the  darkness,  not  of  the  day  ;  not  of  illumination, 
but  of  that  Fire  which  enflames  all  and  wraps  us  in  God 
with  great  sweetness  and  most  ardent  love.  The  which  Fire 
most  truly  is  God,  and  the  hearth  thereof  is  in  Jerusalem."  3 

x  "  De  Signatura  Rerum,"  viii.  47.    9  "  Der  Sinn  und  Wert  des  Lebens,"  p.  90. 
s  M  De  Itinerario  Mentis  in  Deo,"  cap.  vii. 


CHAPTER  VI 

MYSTICISM   AND    SYMBOLISM 

Mystical  Symbols — Their  use  and  necessity — Their  immense  variety — Three 
groups  of  Symbols — (i)  Divine  Transcendence  and  the  idea  of  pilgrimage — (2)  Mutual 
Desire  and  symbols  of  love — (3)  Divine  Immanence,  and  Symbols  of  transmutation — 
(1)  Symbols  of  Pilgrimage — The  Sufi  Pilgrim — The  Seven  Valleys  of 'Attar — Dante 
—(2)  Mutual  Desire— "The  Hymn  of  Jesus"— "The  Hound  of  Heaven  "—The 
•'Following  Love" — Symbols  of  Love — the  "  Spiritual  Marriage  " — St.  Bernard — 
St.  Teresa — Richard  of  St.  Victor's  Four  Degrees  of  Ardent  Love — (3)  Symbols  of 
Transmutation — The  Spiritual  Alchemists — The  Philosopher's  Stone — The  material  01 
Alchemy — Jacob  Boehme — "Salt,  Sulphur,  and  Mercury" — the  Mystical  transmuta- 
tion— the  Magnum  Opus — "  Hunting  the  Greene  Lyon  " — The  Red  Dragon 

IN  our  study  of  theology  we  saw  the  Christian  mystic 
adopting,  as  chart  and  pilot  book  of  his  voyages  and 
adventures,  the  scheme  of  faith,  and  diagram  of  the 
spiritual  world,  which  is  adopted  by  ordinary  Christian  men. 
We  saw  that  he  found  in  it  a  depth  and  richness  of  content  which 
the  conventional  believer  in  that  theology,  the  "  good  church- 
man," seldom  suspects :  and  that  which  is  here  true  of  the 
Christian  mystic,  is  true,  as  regards  their  respective  theologies,  of 
the  Pagan,  the  Mahommedan  and  the  Buddhist  as  well. 

But,  since  the  spiritual  adventures  of  the  mystic  are  not 
those  of  ordinary  men,  it  will  follow  that  this  map,  though 
always  true  for  him,  is  not  complete.  He  can  press  forward  to 
countries  which  unmystical  piety  must  mark  as  unexplored. 
Pushing  out  from  harbour  to  "  the  vast  and  stormy  sea 
of  the  divine,"  he  can  take  soundings,  and  mark  dangers  the 
existence  of  which  such  piety  never  needs  to  prove. 

Hence  it  is  not  strange  that  certain  maps,  artistic  representa- 
tions or  symbolic  schemes,  should  have  come  into  being  which 
describe  or  suggest  the  special  experiences  of  the  mystical 
consciousness,  and  the  doctrines  to  which  these  experiences 
have  given  birth.     Many  of  these  maps  have  an  uncouth,  even 

149 


150  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

an  impious  appearance  in  the  eyes  of  those  unacquainted  with 
the  facts  which  they  attempt  to  translate :  as  the  charts  of  the 
deep-sea  sailor  seem  ugly  and  unintelligible  things  to  those  who 
have  never  been  out  of  sight  of  land.  Others — and  these  the 
most  pleasing,  most  easily  understood — have  already  been  made 
familiar,  perhaps  tiresomely  familiar,  to  us  by  the  poets ;  who, 
intuitively  recognizing  their  suggestive  qualities,  their  links  with 
truth,  have  borrowed  and  adapted  them  to  their  own  business 
of  translating  Reality  into  terms  of  rhythm  and  speech. 
Ultimately,  however,  they  owe  their  origin  to  the  mystics, 
or  to  that  mystical  sense  which  is  innate  in  all  true  poets : 
and  in  the  last  resort  it  is  the  mystic's  kingdom,  and  the 
mystic's  experience,  which  they  affect  to  describe. 

Now  these  special  mystical  diagrams,  these  symbolic  and 
artistic  descriptions  of  man's  inward  history — his  secret  adven- 
tures with  God — are  almost  endless  in  their  variety :  since  in 
each  we  have  a  picture  of  the  country  of  the  soul  seen  through 
a  different  temperament.  To  describe  all  would  be  to  analyse 
the  whole  field  of  mystical  literature,  and  indeed  much  other 
literature  as  well ;  to  epitomize  in  fact  all  that  has  been  dreamed 
and  written  concerning  the  so-called  "  inner  life  " — a  dreary  and 
a  lengthy  task.  But  the  majority  of  them,  I  think,  tend  to 
express  a  comparatively  small  number  of  essential  doctrines 
or  fundamental  ways  of  seeing  things  ;  and  as  regards  their 
imagery,  these  fall  into  three  great  classes ;  representative  of 
the  three  principal  ways  in  which  man's  spiritual  consciousness 
reacts  to  the  touch  of  Reality,  the  three  primary  if  paradoxical 
facts  of  which  that  consciousness  must  be  aware.  Hence  a 
consideration  of  mystic  symbols  drawn  from  each  of  these 
groups  may  give  us  a  key  with  which  to  unlock  some  at 
least  of  the  verbal  riddles  of  the  individual  adventurer. 

Thanks  to  the  spatial  imagery  inseparable  from  human 
thinking  and  human  expression,  no  direct  description  of 
spiritual  experience  is  or  can  be  possible  to  man.  It  must 
always  be  symbolic,  allusive,  oblique :  always  suggest,  but 
never  tell,  the  truth :  and  in  this  respect  there  is  not  much 
to  choose  between  the  fluid  and  artistic  language  of  vision 
and  the  arid  technicalities  of  philosophy.  In  another  respect, 
however,  there  is  a  great  deal  to  choose  between  them :  and 
here   the   visionary,   not   the   philosopher,    receives   the   palm. 


MYSTICISM  AND  SYMBOLISM  151 

The  greater  the  suggestive  quality  of  the  symbol  used,  the 
more  answering  emotion  it  evokes  in  those  to  whom  it  is 
addressed,  the  more  truth  it  will  convey.  A  good  symbolism, 
therefore,  will  be  more  than  mere  diagram  or  mere  allegory  :  it 
will  use  to  the  utmost  the  resources  of  beauty  and  of  passion, 
will  bring  with  it  hints  of  mystery  and  wonder,  bewitch  with 
dreamy  periods  the  mind  to  which  it  is  addressed.  Its 
appeal  will  not  be  to  the  clever  brain,  but  to  the  desirous  heart, 
the  intuitive  sense,  of  man. 

The  three  great  classes  of  symbols  which  I  propose  to 
consider,  play  upon  three  deep  cravings  of  the  self,  three  great 
expressions  of  man's  restlessness,  which  only  mystic  truth  can 
fully  satisfy.  The  first  is  the  craving  which  make  him  a  pilgrim 
and  wanderer.  It  is  the  longing  to  go  out  from  his  normal 
world  in  search  of  a  lost  home,  a  "  better  country " ;  an 
Eldorado,  a  Sarras,  a  Heavenly  Syon.  The  next  is  that 
craving  of  heart  for  heart,  of  the  soul  for  its  perfect  mate, 
which  makes  him  a  lover.  The  third  is  the  craving  for  inward 
purity  and  perfection,  which  makes  him  an  ascetic,  and  in  the 
last  resort  a  saint. 

These  three  cravings,  I  think,  answer  to  three  ways  in  which 
mystics  of  different  temperaments  attack  the  problem  of  the 
Absolute  :  three  different  formulae  under  which  their  transcen- 
dence of  the  sense-world  can  be  described.  In  describing  this 
transcendence,  and  the  special  adventures  involved  in  it,  they 
are  describing  a  change  from  the  state  of  ordinary  men,  in 
touch  with  the  sense-world,  responding  to  its  rhythms,  to  the 
state  of  spiritual  consciousness  in  which,  as  they  say,  they  are 
"  in  union "  with  Divine  Reality,  with  God.  Whatever  be  the 
theological  creed  of  the  mystic,  he  never  varies  in  declaring 
this  close,  definite,  and  actual  intimacy  to  be  the  end  of  his 
quest.  "  Mark  me  like  the  tulip  with  Thine  own  streaks,"  says 
the  Sufi.1  "  I  would  fain  be  to  the  Eternal  Goodness  what  his 
own  hand  is  to  a  man,"  says  the  German  contemplative.2  "  My 
me  is  God,  nor  do  I  know  my  selfhood  save  in  Him,"  says  the 
Italian  saint.  3 

But,  since  this  Absolute  God  is  for  him  substance,  ground  or 

1  Jami,  M  Joseph  and  Zulaikha.     The  Poet's  Prayer." 

2  "Theologia  Germanica,"  cap.  x. 

3  St.  Catherine  of  Genoa,  Vita  e  Dottrina,  cap.  xiv. 


152  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

underlying  Reality  of  all  that  is:  present  yet  absent,  near 
yet  far:  He  is  as  truly  immanent  in  the  human  Soul  as  in 
the  Universe.  The  seeker  for  the  Real  may  therefore  ob- 
jectify his  quest  in  two  apparently  contradictory,  yet  really 
mutually  explanatory  ways.  First  he  may  see  it  as  an  out- 
going journey  from  the  world  of  illusion  to  the  real  or 
transcendental  world :  a  leaving  of  the  visible  for  the  invisible. 
Secondly,  it  may  appear  to  him  as  an  inward  alteration,  re- 
making or  regeneration,  by  which  his  personality  or  character 
is  so  changed  as  to  be  able  to  enter  into  communion  with  that 
Fontal  Being  which  he  loves  and  desires ;  is  united  with  and 
dominated  by  the  indwelling  God  who  is  the  fount  of  its  spiritual 
life.  In  the  first  case,  the  objective  idea  "  God  "  is  the  pivot  of 
his  symbolism :  the  Blazing  Star,  or  Magnet  of  the  Universe 
which  he  has  seen  far  off:  and  seeing,  has  worshipped  and 
desired.  In  the  second  case,  this  is  replaced  by  the  subjective 
idea  "  Sanctity,"  with  its  accompanying  consciousness  of  a 
disharmony  to  be  abolished.  The  Mystic  Way  will  then  be 
described,  not  as  a  journey,  but  as  an  alteration  of  personality, 
the  transmuting  of  "  earthly  "  into  "  heavenly  "  man.  Plainly 
these  two  aspects  are  obverse  and  reverse  of  one  whole.  They 
represent  that  mighty  pair  of  opposites,  Infinite  and  Finite, 
God  and  Self,  which  it  is  the  business  of  mysticism  to  carry 
up  into  a  higher  synthesis. 

Whether  the  process  be  considered  as  outward  search  or 
inward  change,  its  object  and  its  end  are  the  same.  Man 
enters  into  the  order  of  Reality:  his  desire  is  met  by  the 
Divine  Desire,  his  "separated  will"  or  life  becomes  one  with 
the  great  Life  of  the  All. 

From  what  has  been  said  in  the  last  chapter,  it  will  be  clear 
that  the  two  opposing  types  of  symbolism  which  we  have 
discussed — the  outward  search  and  inward  change — will  be 
adopted  by  the  two  groups  of  selves  whose  experience  of 
"union  with  the  Divine"  leans  (i)  to  the  Transcendent  or  ex- 
ternal, (2)  to  the  Immanent  or  internal  way  of  apprehending 
Reality:  and  that  a  third  or  intermediate  group  of  images 
will  be  necessary  to  express  the  experience  of  those  to  whom 
mystic  feeling — the  satisfaction  of  love — is  the  supreme  factor 
in  the  mystic  life.  According,  then,  to  whether  man's  instinct 
prompts  him  to  describe  the  Absolute  Reality  which  he  knows 


MYSTICISM  AND  SYMBOLISM  153 

as  a  Place,  a  Person,  or  a  State — all  three  of  course  but  partial 
and  human  symbols  of  the  one  Indescribable  Truth — so  will 
he  tend  to  adopt  a  symbolism  of  one  or  other  of  these 
three  types. 

A.  Those  who  conceive  the  Perfect  as  a  beatific  vision 
exterior  to  them  and  very  far  off,  who  find  in  the  doctrine 
of  Emanations  something  which  answers  to  their  inward  ex- 
perience, will  feel  the  process  of  their  entrance  into  reality  to 
be  a  quest,  an  arduous  journey  from  the  material  to  the  spiritual 
world.  They  move  away  from,  rather  than  transmute  to 
another  form,  the  life  of  sense.  The  ecstasies  of  such  mystics 
will  answer  to  the  root-meaning  of  that  much  perverted  word, 
as  a  "  standing  out "  from  themselves ;  a  flight  to  happier 
countries  far  away.  For  them,  the  soul  is  outward  bound 
towards  its  home. 

B.  Those  for  whom  mysticism  is  above  all  things  an  in- 
timate and  personal  relation,  the  satisfaction  of  a  deep  desire — 
who  can  say  with  Gertrude  More,  "  never  was  there  or  can  there 
be  imagined  such  a  love,  as  is  between  an  humble  soul  and 
Thee" — will  fall  back  upon  imagery  drawn  largely  from  the 
language  of  earthly  passion.  Since  the  Christian  religion  insists 
upon  the  personal  aspect  of  the  Godhead,  and  provides  in  Christ 
an  object  of  such  intimacy,  devotion  and  desire,  an  enormous 
number  of  Christian  mystics  necessarily  use  symbols  of  this 
kind. 

C.  Those  who  are  conscious  rather  of  the  Divine  as  a  Tran- 
scendent Life  immanent  in  the  world  and  the  self,  and  of  a 
strange  spiritual  seed  within  them  by  whose  development  man, 
moving  to  higher  levels  of  character  and  consciousness,  attains 
his  end,  will  see  the  mystic  life  as  involving  inward  change 
rather  than  outgoing  search.  Regeneration  is  their  watchword, 
and  they  will  choose  symbols  of  growth  or  transmutation : 
saying  with  St.  Catherine  of  Genoa,  "  my  Being  is  God,  not 
by  simple  participation,  but  by  a  true  transformation  of  my 
Being." « 

These  three  groups  of  mystics,  then,  stand  for  three  kinds  of 

temperament ;  and  we  may  fairly  take  as  their  characteristic 

forms  of  symbolic  expression  the  Mystic  Quest,  the  Marriage 

of  the  Soul  and  the  "  Great  Work  "  of  the  Spiritual  Alchemists. 

1  Vita  e  Dottrina,  p.  36. 


154  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 


The  pilgrimage  idea,  the  outgoing  quest,  appears  in  mysti- 
cal literature  under  two  rather  different  aspects.  One  is  the 
search  for  the  "  Hidden  Treasure  which  desires  to  be  found." 
Such  is  the  "quest  of  the  Grail"  when  regarded  in  its  mystic 
aspect  as  an  allegory  of  the  adventures  of  the  soul.  The 
other  is  the  long,  hard  journey  towards  a  known  and  definite 
goal  or  state.  Such  is  Dante's  "Divine  Comedy";  which  is, 
in  one  of  its  aspects,  a  faithful  and  detailed  description  of 
the  Mystic  Way.  The  goal  of  such  a  quest — the  Empyrean  of 
Dante,  the  Beatific  Vision  or  fulfilment  of  love — is  often  called 
Jerusalem  by  the  Christian  Mystics ;  naturally  enough,  since 
that  city  was  for  the  mediaeval  mind  the  supreme  end  of 
pilgrimage.  By  Jerusalem  they  mean  not  only  the  celestial 
country,  Heaven  :  but  also  the  spiritual  life,  which  is  "  itself  a 
heaven."1  "Just  as  a  true  pilgrim  going  towards  Jerusalem," 
says  Hilton,  "  leaveth  behind  him  house  and  land,  wife  and 
children,  and  maketh  himself  poor  and  bare  from  all  things 
that  he  hath,  that  he  may  go  lightly  without  letting.  Right  so, 
if  thou  wilt  be  a  spiritual  pilgrim,  thou  shalt  strip  thyself  naked 
of  all  that  thou  hast  .  .  .  then  shalt  thou  resolve  in  thy  heart 
fully  and  wholly  that  thou  wilt  be  at  Jerusalem,  and  at  no  other 
place  but  there."  "  Jerusalem,"  he  says  in  this  same  chapter,  "  is 
as  much  as  to  say  a  sight  of  peace ;  and  betokeneth  contempla- 
tion in  perfect  love  of  God."2 

Under  this  image  of  a  pilgrimage — an  image  as  concrete  and 
practical,  as  remote  from  the  romantic  and  picturesque,  for  the 
mediaeval  writers  who  used  it,  as  a  symbolism  of  hotel  and 
railway  train  would  be  to  us — the  mystics  contrived  to 
summarize  and  suggest  much  of  the  life  history  of  the  ascend- 
ing soul ;  the  developing  spiritual  consciousness.  The  neces- 
sary freedom  and  detachment  of  the  traveller,  his  departure 
from  his  normal  life  and  interests,  the  difficulties,  enemies,  and 
hardships  encountered  on  the  road  ;  the  length  of  the  journey 
the  variety  of  the  country,  the  dark  night  which  overtakes  him, 
the  glimpses  of  destination  far  away — all  these  are  seen  more 

'  This  image  seems  first  to  have  been  elaborated  by  St.  Augustine,  from  whom  it 
was  borrowed  by  Hugh  of  St.  Victor,  and  most  of  the  mediaeval  mystics. 
2  "The  Scale  of  Perfection,"  bk.  ii.  pt.  ii.  cap.  iii. 


MYSTICISM  AND  SYMBOLISM  155 

and  more  as  we  advance  in  knowledge  to  constitute  a  trans- 
parent allegory  of  the  incidents  of  man's  progress  from  the 
unreal  to  the  real.  Bunyan  was  but  the  last  and  least  mystical 
of  a  long  series  of  minds  which  grasped  this  fact. 

The  Traveller,  says  the  Sufi  'Aziz  bin  Mahommed  Nafasi, 
in  whose  book,  "  The  Remotest  Aim,"  the  pilgrimage-symbolism 
is  developed  in  great  detail,  is  the  Perceptive  or  Intuitive  Sense 
of  Man.  The  goal  to  which  he  journeys  is  Knowledge  of  God. 
This  mysterious  traveller  towards  the  only  country  of  the  soul 
may  be  known  of  other  men  by  his  detachment,  charity, 
humility,  and  patience.  These  primary  virtues,  however — 
belonging  to  ethical  rather  than  to  spiritual  life — are  not 
enough  to  bring  his  quest  to  a  successful  termination.  They 
make  him,  say  the  Sufis,  "  perfect  in  knowledge  of  his  goal  but 
deficient  in  the  power  of  reaching  it."  Though  he  has  fraternal 
love  for  his  fellow-pilgrims,  detachment  from  wayside  allure- 
ments, tireless  perseverance  on  the  road,  he  is  still  encumbered 
and  weakened  by  unnecessary  luggage.  The  second  stage  of 
his  journey,  therefore,  is  initiated  like  that  of  Christian  by  a 
casting  off  of  his  burden  :  a  total  self-renouncement,  the  attain- 
ment of  a  Franciscan  poverty  of  spirit  whereby  he  becomes 
"Perfectly  Free." 

Having  got  rid  of  all  impediments  to  the  spiritual  quest,  he 
must  now  acquire  or  develop  in  their  stead  the  characteristic  mys- 
tical qualities,  or  Three  Aids  of  the  Pilgrim  ;  which  are  called  in 
this  system  Attraction,  Devotion,  and  Elevation.  Attraction  is 
consciousness  of  the  mutual  desire  existing  between  man's 
spirit  and  the  Divine  Spirit :  of  the  link  of  love  which  knits  up 
reality  and  draws  all  things  to  their  home  in  God.  This  is 
the  universal  law  on  which  all  mysticism  is  based.  It  is  St. 
Augustine's  "  Thou  hast  made  us  for  Thyself  and  our  hearts 
can  find  no  rest  outside  of  Thee."  This  "  natural  magnetism," 
then,  once  he  is  aware  of  it,  will  draw  the  pilgrim  irresistibly 
along  the  road  from  the  Many  to  the  One.  His  second  aid, 
Devotion,  says  the  "  Remotest  Aim  "  in  a  phrase  of  great  depth 
and  beauty,  is  "  the  prosecution  of  the  journey  to  God  and  in 
God."  *     It  embraces,  in  fact,  the  whole  contemplative  life.     It 

1  So  too  Ruysbroeck  says  that  "  the  just  man  goes  towards  God  by  inward  love 
in  perpetual  activity  and  in  God  in  virtue  of  his  fruitive  affection  in  eternal  rest  " 
("  L'Ornement  des  Noces  Spirituelles,"  1.  ii.  cap.  Ixxiii.). 


156  AN   INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

is  the  next  degree  of  spiritual  consciousness  after  the  blind 
yielding  to  the  attraction  of  the  Real,  and  the  setting  in  order 
of  man's  relation  to  his  source. 

The  Traveller's  journey  to  God  is  complete  when  he 
attains  knowledge  of  Him — "  Illumination,"  in  the  language 
of  European  mystics.  The  point  at  which  this  is  attained  is 
called  the  Tavern,  or  resting-place  upon  the  road,  where  he 
is  fed  with  the  Divine  Mysteries.  There  are  also  "Wine 
Shops  "  upon  the  way,  where  the  weary  pilgrim  is  cheered  and 
refreshed  by  a  draught  of  the  wine  of  Divine  Love.1  Only 
when  the  journey  to  God  is  completed  begins  the  "  Journey  in 
God  " — that  which  the  Christian  mystics  call  the  Unitive  Way — 
and  this,  since  it  is  the  essence  of  Eternal  Life,  can  have  no  end. 
Elevation,  the  pilgrim's  third  aid,  is  the  exalted  or  ecstatic  form 
of  consciousness  peculiar  to  the  contemplative,  and  which  allows 
the  traveller  to  see  the  spiritual  city  towards  which  he  goes.2 

The  Sufi  poet  'Attar,  in  his  mystical  poem,  "  The  Colloquy 
of  the  Birds,"  has  described  the  stages  of  this  same  spiritual 
pilgrimage  with  greater  psychological  insight,  as  the  journey 
through  "  Seven  Valleys."  The  lapwing,  having  been  asked  by 
other  birds  what  is  the  length  of  the  road  which  leads  to  the 
hidden  Palace  of  the  King,  replies  that  there  are  Seven  Valleys 
through  which  every  traveller  must  pass  :  but  since  none  who 
attain  the  End  ever  come  back  to  describe  their  adventures,  no 
one  knows  the  length  of  the  way. 

(i)  The  first  valley,  says  the  lapwing,  is  the  Valley  of  the 
Quest.  It  is  long  and  toilsome :  and  there  the  traveller  must 
strip  himself  of  all  earthly  things,  becoming  poor,  bare,  and 
desolate  :  and  so  stay  till  the  Supernal  Light  casts  a  ray  on  his 
desolation.  It  is,  in  fact,  Dante's  Purgatorio,  the  Christian  Way 
of  Purgation  :  the  period  of  self-stripping  and  purification  which 
no  mystic  system  omits. 

(2)  When  the  ray  of  Supernal  Light  has  touched  the  pilgrim 
he  enters  the  limitless  Valley  of  Love  :  begins,  that  is  to  say,  the 
mystic  life.  It  is  Dante's  "  Earthly  Paradise,"  or,  in  the  tradi- 
tional system  of  the  mystics,  the  onset  of  illumination. 

1  I  need  not  remind  the  reader  01  the  fact  that  this  symbolism,  perverted  to  the 
purposes  of  his  sceptical  philosophy,  runs  through  the  whole  of  the  Rubaiyat  of  Omar 
Khayydm. 

a  See  Palmer's  "  Oriental  Mysticism,"  pt.  i.  caps,  i.,  ii.,  iii.,  and  v. 


MYSTICISM  AND  SYMBOLISM  157 

(3)  Hence  he  passes  to  the  Valley  of  Knowledge  or  En- 
lightenment— the  contemplative  state — where  each  finds  in 
communion  with  Truth  the  place  that  belongs  to  him.  No 
Dante  student  will  fail  to  see  here  a  striking  parallel  with  those 
planetary  heavens  where  each  soul  partakes  of  the  Divine,  "  not 
supremely  in  the  absolute  sense,"  as  St.  Bonaventura  has  it,  but 
"  supremely  in  respect  of  himself"  The  mystery  of  Being  is 
now  revealed  to  the  traveller.  He  sees  Nature's  secret,  and 
God  in  all  things.     It  is  the  height  of  illumination. 

(4)  The  next  stage  is  the  Valley  of  Detachment,  of  utter 
absorption  in  Divine  Love — the  Stellar  Heaven  of  the  Saints — 
where  Duty  is  seen  to  be  all  in  all.     This  leads  to — 

(5)  The  Valley  of  the  Unity,  where  the  naked  Godhead  is 
the  one  object  of  contemplation.  This  is  the  stage  of  ecstasy,  or 
the  Beatific  Vision :  Dante's  condition  in  the  last  canto  of 
the  "Paradise"     It  is  transient,  however,  and  leads  to — 

(6)  The  Valley  of  Amazement ;  where  the  Vision,  far  trans- 
cending the  pilgrim's  receptive  power,  appears  to  be  taken  from 
him  and  he  is  plunged  in  darkness  and  bewilderment.  This  is 
the  state  which  Dionysius  the  Areopagite,  and  after  him  many 
mediaeval  mystics,  called  the  Divine  Dark,  and  described  as  the 
truest  and  closest  of  all  our  apprehensions  of  the  Godhead.  It 
is  the  Cloud  of  Unknowing:  "dark  from  excessive  bright."  The 
final  stage  is — 

(7)  The  Valley  of  Annihilation  of  Self :  the  supreme  degree 
of  union  or  theopathetic  state,  in  which  the  self  is  utterly 
merged  "like  a  fish  in  the  sea"  in  the  ocean  of  Divine  Love.1 

Through  all  these  metaphors  of  pilgrimage  to  a  goal — of  a 
road  followed,  distance  overpassed,  fatigue  endured — there  runs 
the  definite  idea  that  the  travelling  self  in  undertaking  the 
journey  is  fulfilling  a  destiny,  a  law  of  the  transcendental  life  ; 
obeying  an  imperative  need.  The  chosen  Knights  are  destine'cl 
or  called  to  the  quest  of  the  Grail.  "  All  men  are  called  to  their 
origin,"  says  Rulman  Merswin,  and  the  fishes  which  he  sees  in 
his  Vision  of  Nine  Rocks  are  impelled  to  struggle  as  it  were 
"  against  nature  "  uphill  from  pool  to  pool  towards  their  source.2 

1  'Attar's  allegory  of  the  Valleys  will  be  found  epitomised  in  Mr.  W.  S.  Lilly's 
excellent  account  of  the  Sufi  poets,  in  '•  Many  Mansions,"  p.  130 ;  and  in  a  fuller 
form  in  "The  Porch"  Series,  No.  8. 

2  Jundt,  "  Rulman  Merswin,"  p.  27. 


158  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

All  mystical  thinkers  agree  in  declaring  that  there  is  a 
mutual  attraction  between  the  Spark  of  the  Soul,  the  free  divine 
germ  in  man,  and  the  Fount  from  which  it  came  forth.  "  We 
long  for  the  Absolute,"  says  Royce,  "  only  in  so  far  as  in  us  the 
Absolute  also  longs,  and  seeks,  through  our  very  temporal 
striving,  the  peace  that  is  nowhere  in  Time,  but  only,  and  yet 
Absolutely,  in  Eternity." »  So,  many  centuries  before  the  birth 
of  American  philosophy,  Hilton  put  the  same  truth  of  ex- 
perience in  lovelier  words.  "  He  it  is  that  desireth  in  thee,  and 
He  it  is  that  is  desired.  He  is  all  and  He  doth  all  if  thou  couldst 
see  Him."2 

The  homeward  journey  of  man's  spirit,  then,  is  due  to  the 
push  of  a  divine  life  within  answering  to  the  pull  of  a  divine 
life  without.3  It  is  the  going  of  like  to  like,  the  fulfilment  of 
a  Cosmic  necessity :  and  the  mystics,  in  undertaking  it,  are 
humanity's  pioneers  on  the  only  road  to  rest.  Hence  that 
attraction  which  the  Moslem  mystic  discerned  as  the  traveller's 
necessary  aid,  is  a  fundamental  doctrine  of  all  mysticism  :  and 
as  a  consequence,  the  symbolism  of  mutual  desire  is  here  inex- 
tricably mingled  with  that  of  pilgrimage.  The  spiritual  pilgrim 
goes  because  he  is  called  ;  because  he  wants  to  go,  must  go,  if 
he  is  to  find  rest  and  peace.  "  God  needs  man,"  says  Eckhart. 
It  is  Love  calling  to  love :  and  the  journey,  though  in  one  sense 
a  hard  pilgrimage,  up  and  out,  by  the  terraced  mount  and  the 
ten  heavens  to  God,  in  another  is  the  inevitable  rush  of  the 
roving  comet,  caught  at  last,  to  the  Central  Sun.  "  My  weight 
is  my  love,"  said  St.  Augustine.4  Like  gravitation,  it  inevitably 
compels,  for  good  or  evil,  every  spirit  to  its  own  place.  Ac- 
cording to  another  range  of  symbols,  that  love  flings  open  a 
door,  in  order  that  the  Larger  Life  may  rush  in,  and  it  and  the 
soul  be  "  one  thing." 

1  Royce,  "The  World  and  the  Individual,"  vol.  ii.  p.  386. 

2  "The  Scale  of  Perfection,"  bk.  ii.  pt.  ii.  cap.  v. 

3  Compare  Recejac  ("  Fondements  de  la  Connaissance  Mystique,"  p.  252). 
"  According  to  mysticism,  morality  leads  the  soul  to  the  frontiers  of  the  Absolute  and 
even  gives  it  an  impulsion  to  enter,  but  this  is  not  enough.  This  movement  of  pure 
Freedom  cannot  succeed  unless  there  is  an  equivalent  movement  within  the  Absolute 
itself." 

4  Aug.  Conf.,  bk.  xiii.  cap.  9.  "All  those  who  love,"  says  Ruysbroeck,  "  feel  this 
attraction  ;  more  or  less  according  to  the  degree  of  their  love."  ("  De  Calculo  sive  de 
Perfectione  filiorum  Dei."  Quoted  by  Maeterlinck,  introduction  to  "  L'Ornement  des 
Noces  Spirituelles,"  p.  lvi.) 


MYSTICISM  AND  SYMBOLISM  159 

Here,  then,  we  run  through  the  whole  gamut  of  symbolic 
expression  ;  through  Transcendence,  Desire,  and  Immanence. 
All  are  seen  to  point  to  one  consummation,  diversely  and 
allusively  expressed  :  the  imperative  need  of  union  between 
man's  separated  spirit  and  the  Real,  his  remaking  in  the 
interests  of  transcendent  life,  his  establishment  in  that  Kingdom 
which  is  both  "  near  and  far." 

"In  the  book  of  Hidden  Things  it  is  written,"  says 
Eckhart,  " '  I  stand  at  the  door  and  knock  and  wait '  .  .  . 
thou  needst  not  seek  Him  here  or  there  :  He  is  no  farther 
off  than  the  door  of  the  heart.  There  He  stands  and  waits 
and  waits  until  He  finds  thee  ready  to  open  and  let  Him 
in.  Thou  needst  not  call  Him  from  a  distance  ;  to  wait 
until  thou  openest  is  harder  for  Him  than  for  thee.  He  needs 
thee  a  thousand  times  more  than  thou  canst  need  Him.  Thy 
opening  and  His  entering  are  but  one  moment?  x  "  God,"  he  says 
in  another  place,  "  can  as  little  do  without  us,  as  we  without 
Him."2  Our  attainment  of  the  Absolute  is  not  a  one-sided 
ambition,  but  a  mutual  necessity.  "  For  our  natural  Will,"  says 
Lady  Julian,  "  is  to  have  God,  and  the  Good  will  of  God  is  to 
have  us  ;  and  we  may  never  cease  from  longing  till  we  have  Him 
in  fullness  of  joy  "3 

So,  in  the  beautiful  poem  or  ritual  called  the  "  Hymn  of 
Jesus,"  contained  in  the  apocryphal  "  Acts  of  John  "  and  dating 
from  primitive  Christian  times,  the  Logos,  or  Eternal  Christ, 
is  thus  represented  as  matching  with  His  own  transcendent 
self-giving  desire  every  need  of  the  soul  who  stands  with  Him 
in  the  mystical  circle  of  initiation.4 

The  Soul  says  : — 

"'I  would  be  saved.'" 

Christ  replies : — 

"'And  I  would  save.'    Amen." 

The  Dialogue  continues  : — 

"'I  would  be  loosed.' 
'And  I  would  loose.'     Amen. 


1  Meister  Eckhart,  Pred.  iii.  2  Ibid.,  Pred.  xiii. 

3  "  Revelations  of  Divine  Love,"  cap.  vi. 

4  The  Greek  and  English  text  will  be  found  in  the  "  Apocrypha  Anecdota "  of 
Dr.  M.  R.  James,  series  2  (Cambridge,  1897),  pp.  1-25.  I  follow  his  ranslation. 
It  will  be  seen  that  I  have  adopted  the  hypothesis  of  Mr.  G.  R.  S.  Mead  as  to  the 
dramatic  nature  of  this  poem.     See  his  "  Echoes  from  the  Gnosis,"  1896. 


160  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

'I  would  be  pierced.' 

1  And  I  would  pierce.'    Amen. 

*  I  would  be  born.' 

'And  I  would  bear.'     Amen. 

'  I  would  eat.' 

'And  I  would  be  eaten.'     Amen. 

'  I  would  hear.' 

'And  I  would  be  heard.'    Amen.' 


" '  I  am  a  Lamp  to  thee  who  beholdest  Me, 
I  am  a  Mirror  to  thee  who  perceivest  Me, 
I  am  a  Door  to  thee,  who  knockest  at  Me, 
I  am  a  Way  to  thee  a  wayfarer.'  " 

The  same  fundamental  idea  of  the  mutual  quest  of  the  Soul 
and  the  Absolute  is  expressed  in  the  terms  of  another  symbolism 
by  the  great  Mahommedan  mystic  : — 

14  No  lover  ever  seeks  union  with  his  beloved, 
But  his  beloved  is  also  seeking  union  with  him. 
But  the  lover's  love  makes  his  body  lean 
While  the  beloved's  love  makes  her  fair  and  lusty. 
When  in  this  heart  the  lightning  spark  of  love  arises, 
Be  sure  this  love  is  reciprocated  in  that  heart. 
When  the  love  of  God  arises  in  thy  heart, 
Without  doubt  God  also  feels  love  for  thee."  * 

The  mystic  vision,  then,  is  of  a  spiritual  universe  held  tight 
within  the  bonds  of  love : 2  and  of  the  free  and  restless  human 
soul,  having  within  it  the  spark  of  divine  desire,  the  "  tendency 
to  the  Absolute,"  only  finding  satisfaction  and  true  life  when 
united  with  this  Life  of  God.  Then,  in  Patmore's  lovely  image, 
"  the  babe  is  at  its  mother's  breast,"  "  the  lover  has  returned  to 
the  beloved."  3 

Whatever  their  outward  sense,  the  mystic  symbols  one  and 
all  express  aspects  of  this  "secret  of  the  world,"  this  primal 

*  "Jelalu  'd  Din  "  (Wisdom  of  the  East  Series),  p.  77. 

*  So  Dante— 

"Nel  suo  profondo  vidi  che  s'interna 
legato  con  amore  in  un  volume 
cio  che  per  l'universo  si  squaderna." 

(Par.  xxxiii.  85.) 

8  "The  Rod,  the  Root,  and  the  Flower,"  "  Aurea  Dicta,"  ccxxviii. 


MYSTICISM  AND  SYMBOLISM  '     161 

verity.  But  whereas  such  great  visionary  schemes  as  those  of 
'Attar  and  of  Dante  show  it  in  its  Cosmic  form,  in  many  other 
symbols — particularly  those  which  we  meet  in  the  writings  of 
the  ecstatic  saints — the  personal  subjective  note,  the  conscious- 
ness of  an  individual  relation  between  that  one  self  and  the 
Supernal  Self,  overpowers  all  such  general  applications.  Then 
philosophy  and  formal  allegory  must  step  aside  :  the  sacramental 
language  of  exalted  emotion,  of  profoundly  felt  experience, 
takes  its  place.  The  phases  of  mutual  love,  of  wooing  and 
combat,  awe  and  delight — the  fevers  of  desire,  the  ecstasy  of 
surrender — are  drawn  upon.  "  All  this  lovely  dalliance  of 
private  conference,"  in  Hilton's  words,1  is  made  to  contribute 
something  to  the  description  of  the  great  and  secret  drama  of 
the  soul. 

To  such  symbolic  transcripts  of  intimate  experience  belongs 
one  amazing  episode  of  the  spiritual  life-history  which,  because 
it  has  been  given  immortal  expression  by  the  greatest  mystical 
poet  of  modern  times,  is  familiar  to  thousands  of  readers  who 
know  little  or  nothing  of  the  more  normal  adventures  incidental 
to  man's  attainment  of  the  Absolute.  In  "  The  Hound  of 
Heaven  "  Francis  Thompson  described  with  an  almost  terrible 
power,  not  the  selfs  quest  of  adored  Reality,  but  Reality's  quest 
of  the  unwilling  self.  He  shows  to  us  the  remorseless,  tireless 
seeking  and  following  of  the  soul  by  the  Divine  Life  to  which 
it  will  not  surrender :  the  inexorable  onward  sweep  of  "  this 
tremendous  Lover,"  hunting  the  separated  spirit,  "strange 
piteous  futile  thing  "  that  flees  Him  "  down  the  nights  and  down 
the  days."  This  idea  of  the  love-chase,  of  the  spirit  rushing  in 
terror  from  the  overpowering  presence  of  God,  but  followed, 
sought,  conquered  in  the  end,  is  common  to  all  the  mediaeval 
mystics :  it  is  the  obverse  of  their  general  doctrine  of  the 
necessary  fusion  of  human  and  divine  life,  "  escape  from  the 
flame  of  separation." 

"  I  chased  thee,  for  in  this  was  my  pleasure,"  says  the  voice 
of  Love  to  Mechthild  of  Magdeburg ;  "  I  captured  thee,  for  this 
was  my  desire ;  I  bound  thee,  and  I  rejoice  in  thy  bonds ;  I 
have  wounded  thee,  that  thou  mayst  be  united  to  me.  If  I 
gave  thee  blows,  it  was  that  I  might  be  possessed  of  thee,"3 

1  "  The  Scale  of  Perfection,"  bk.  iii.  cap.  xv. 

2  "  Das  Fliessende  Licht  der  Gottheit,"  pt.  i.  cap.  iii. 


162  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

So  in  the  beautiful  Middle  English  poem  of  "  Quia  amore 
langueo," — 

"I  am  true  love  that  fals  was  nevere, 
Mi  sistyr,  mannis  soule,  I  loved  hir  thus; 
Bicause  we  wolde  in  no  wise  discevere 
I  lefte  my  Kyngdom  glorious. 
I  purveyde  for  hir  a  paleis  precious; 
She  fleyth,  I  folowe,  I  soughte  hir  so. 
I  suftride  this  peyne  piteous 
Quia  amore  langueo."  * 

Meister  Eckhart  has  the  same  idea  of  the  inexorable  Following 
Love,  impossible  to  escape,  expressed  under  less  personal 
images.  "  Earth,"  he  says,  "  cannot  escape  the  sky  ;  let  it  flee 
up  or  down,  the  sky  flows  into  it,  and  makes  it  fruitful  whether 
it  will  or  no.  So  God  does  to  man.  He  who  will  escape  Him 
only  runs  to  His  bosom  ;  for  all  corners  are  open  to  Him."  2 

All  mystics  have  very  strongly  this  sense  of  a  mysterious 
spiritual  life — a  Reality — without,  seeking  man  and  compelling 
him  to  Its  will.  It  is  not  for  him,  they  think,  to  say  that  he 
will  or  will  not  aspire  to  the  transcendental  world.3  Hence 
sometimes  this  inversion  of  man's  long  quest  of  God.  The 
self  resists  the  pull  of  spiritual  gravitation,  flees  from  the  touch 
of  Eternity  ;  and  the  Eternal  seeks  it,  tracks  it  ruthlessly  down. 
The  Following  Love,  the  mystics  say,  is  a  fact  of  experience, 
not  a  poetic  idea.  "  Those  strong  feet  that  follow,  follow  after," 
once  set  upon  the  chase,  are  bound  to  win.  Man,  once  conscious 
of  Reality,  cannot  evade  it.  For  a  time  his  separated  spirit, 
his  disordered  loves,  may  wilfully  frustrate  the  scheme  of 
things  :  but  he  must  be  conquered  in  the  end.  Then  the  mystic 
process  unfolds  itself  inexorably  :  Love  triumphs  :  the  "  purpose 
of  the  worlds  "  fulfills  itself  in  the  individual  life. 


II 

It  was  natural  and  inevitable  that  the  imagery  of  human 
love  and  marriage  should  have  seemed  to  the  mystic  the  best  of 

1  "Quia  amore  langueo,"  an  anonymous  fifteenth-century  poem.     Printed  from 
the  Lambeth  MS.  by  the  E.E.T.S.,  1866-67. 

2  Pred.  lxxxviii. 

3  So  we  are  told  of  St.  Francis  of  Assisi,  that  in  his  youth  he  l<  tried  to  flee  GooTs 
hand."     Thomas  of  Celano,  Legenda  Prima,  cap.  ii. 


MYSTICISM  AND  SYMBOLISM  163 

all  images  of  his  own  "  fulfilment  of  life"  ;  his  soul's  surrender, 
first  to  the  call,  finally  to  the  embrace  of  Perfect  Love.  It  lay- 
ready  to  his  hand :  it  was  understood  of  all  men :  and,  more- 
over, it  most  certainly  does  offer,  upon  lower  levels,  a  strangely 
exact  parallel  to  the  sequence  of  states  in  which  man's  spiritual 
consciousness  unfolds  itself,  and  which  form  the  consummation 
of  the  mystic  life.  * 

It  has  been  said  that  the  constant  use  of  such  imagery  by 
Christian  mystics  of  the  mediaeval  period  is  traceable  to  the 
popularity  of  the  Song  of  Solomon.  I  think  that  the  truth  lies 
rather  in  the  opposite  statement :  namely,  that  the  mystic  loved 
the  Song  of  Solomon  because  he  there  saw  reflected,  as  in  a 
mirror,  the  most  secret  experiences  of  his  soul.  The  sense  of 
a  desire  that  was  insatiable,  of  a  personal  fellowship  so  real, 
inward,  and  intense  that  it  could  only  be  compared  with  the 
closest  link  of  human  love,  of  an  intercourse  that  was  no  mere 
spiritual  self-indulgence,  but  was  rooted  in  the  primal  duties  and 
necessities  of  life — more,  those  deepest,  most  intimate  secrets  of 
communion,  those  self-giving  ecstasies  which  all  mystics  know, 
but  of  which  we,  who  are  not  mystics,  may  not  speak — all  these 
he  found  symbolized  and  suggested,  their  unendurable  glories 
veiled  in  a  merciful  mist,  in  the  poetry  which  man  has  invented 
to  honour  that  august  passion  in  which  the  merely  human  draws 
nearest  to  the  divine. 

The  great  saints  who  adopted  and  elaborated  this  symbo- 
lism, applying  it  to  their  pure  and  ardent  passion  for  the 
Absolute,  were  destitute  of  the  prurient  imagination  which  their 
modern  commentators  too  often  possess.  They  were  essen- 
tially pure  of  heart ;  and  when  they  "  saw  God  "  they  were  so 
far  from  confusing  that  unearthly  vision  with  the  products  of 
morbid  sexuality,  that  the  dangerous  nature  of  the  imagery 
which  they  employed  did  not  occur  to  them.  They  knew  by 
experience  the  unique  nature  of  spiritual  love :  and  no  one  can 
know  anything  about  it  in  any  other  way. 

Thus  for  St.  Bernard,  throughout  his  deeply  mystical  sermons 
on  the  Song  of  Songs,  the  Divine  Word  is  the  Bridegroom,  the 
human  soul  is  the  Bride :  but  how  different  is  the  effect  pro- 
duced by  his  use  of  these  symbols  from  that  with  which  he  has 
been  charged  by  hostile  critics  !  In  the  place  of  that  "  sensuous 
imagery  "  which  is  so  often  and  so  earnestly  deplored  by  those 


164  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

who  have  hardly  a  nodding  acquaintance  with  the  writings  of 
the  saints,  we  find  images  which  indeed  have  once  been 
sensuous ;  but  which  are  here  anointed  and  ordained  to  a  holy 
office,  carried  up,  transmuted,  and  endowed  with  a  radiant 
purity,  an  intense  and  spiritual  life. 

" '  Let  Him  kiss  me  with  the  kisses  of  His  mouth'  Who  is  it 
speaks  these  words?  It  is  the  Bride.  Who  is  the  Bride?  It 
is  the  Soul  thirsting  for  God.  .  .  .  She  who  asks  this  is  held  by 
the  bond  of  love  to  him  from  whom  she  asks  it.  Of  all  the 
sentiments  of  nature,  this  of  love  is  the  most  excellent,  espe- 
cially when  it  is  rendered  back  to  Him  who  is  the  principle  and ' 
fountain  of  it — that  is,  God.  Nor  are  there  found  any  expres- 
sions equally  sweet  to  signify  the  mutual  affection  between  the 
Word  of  God  and  the  soul,  as  those  of  Bridegroom  and  of  Bride; 
inasmuch  as  between  individuals  who  stand  in  such  relation  to 
each  other  all  things  are  in  common,  and  they  possess  nothing 
separate  or  divided.  They  have  one  inheritance,  one  dwelling- 
place,  one  table,  and  they  are  in  fact  one  flesh.  If,  then, 
mutual  love  is  especially  befitting  to  a  bride  and  bridegroom,  it 
is  not  unfitting  that  the  name  of  Bride  is  given  to  a  soul  which 
loves."  * 

To  women  mystics  of  the  Catholic  Church,  familiar  with  the 
antique  and  poetic  metaphor  which  called  every  cloistered  nun 
the  Bride  of  Christ,  that  crisis  in  their  spiritual  history  in  which 
they  definitely  vowed  themselves  to  the  service  of  Transcendent 
Reality  seemed,  naturally  enough,  the  veritable  betrothal  of  the 
soul.  Often,  in  a  dynamic  vision,  they  saw  as  in  a  picture  the 
binding  vows  exchanged  between  their  spirits  and  their  God.2 
That  further  progress  on  the  mystic  way  which  brought  with 
it  a  sharp  and  permanent  consciousness  of  union  with  the 
Divine  Will,  the  constant  sustaining  presence  of  a  Divine 
Companion,  became,  by  an  extension  of  the  original  simile, 
Spiritual  Marriage.  The  elements  of  duty,  constancy,  irre- 
vocableness,  and  loving  obedience  involved  in  the  mediaeval 
conception  of  the  marriage  tie,  made  it  an  apt  image  of  a 
spiritual  state  in  which  humility,  intimacy,  and  love  were  the 
dominant  characteristics.  There  is  really  no  need  to  seek  a 
pathological  explanation  of  these  simple  facts.     Moreover,  the 

1  St.  Bernard,  **  Cantica  Canticorum,"  Sermon  vii. 

2  Vide  infra,  pt.  ii.  cap.  v. 


MYSTICISM  AND  SYMBOLISM  l6o 

descriptions  of  spiritual  marriage  which  the  great  mystics  have 
left  are  singularly  free  from  physical  imagery.  '  All  that  I  can 
say  of  it,  and  all  that  I  understand  of  it,"  says  St.  Teresa,  "  is 
that  the  soul,  or  rather  the  Spirit  of  the  Soul  [the  divine  spark, 
or  part],  becomes  one  thing  with  God.  That  He  may  show  how 
much  He  loves  us,  God,  Who  is  also  spirit,  has  desired  to  show 
to  certain  souls  how  far  this  love  can  go  :  and  this,  that  we  may 
be  excited  to  praise  His  generosity.  Despite  His  infinite 
Majesty,  He  condescends  to  unite  Himself  so  closely  to  a 
feeble  creature,  that,  like  those  whom  the  sacrament  of  marriage 
has  united  in  an  irrevocable  bond,  He  would  never  again  be 
separated  from  her.  After  the  spiritual  betrothal  it  is  not  thus  : 
more  than  once  the  lovers  separate.  In  the  spiritual  marriage, 
on  the  contrary,  the  soul  dwells  always  with  God,  in  that  centre 
which  I  have  described."  r 

The  great  Richard  of  St.  Victor,  in  one  of  his  most  splendid 
mystical  treatises,2  has  given  us  perhaps  the  most  daring  and 
detailed  application  of  the  symbolism  of  marriage  to  the 
adventures  of  the  spirit  of  man.  He  divides  the  "steep 
stairway  of  love,"  by  which  the  contemplative  ascends  to  union 
with  the  Absolute,  into  four  stages.  These  he  calls  the  betrothal, 
the  marriage,  the  wedlock,  and  the  fruitfulness  of  the  soul.3  In 
the  betrothal,  he  says,  the  soul  "  thirsts  for  the  Beloved  "  ;  that 
is  to  say,  it  longs  to  experience  the  delights  of  Reality.  "  The 
Spirit  comes  to  the  Soul,  and  seems  sweeter  than  honey."  It 
is  conversion,  the  awakening  to  mystical  truth  ;  the  kindling  of 
the  passion  for  the  Absolute.  "  Then  the  Soul,  with  pertinacity 
demands  more  "  :  and  because  of  her  burning  desire  she  attains 
to  pure  contemplation,  and  so  passes  to  the  second  degree  of 
love.  In  this  she  is  "led  in  bridal"  by  the  Beloved.  Ascend- 
ing "above  herself"  in  contemplation,  she  "sees  the  Sun  of 
Righteousness."  She  is  now  confirmed  in  the  mystic  life ;  the 
irrevocable  marriage  vows  are  made  between  her  spirit  and  her 
God.     At  this  point  she  can  "  see  the  Beloved,"  but  "  cannot  yet 


1  "  El  Castillo  Interior,"  Moradas  S^timas,  cap.  ii. 
"  De  Quatuor  Gradibus  Violentae  Charitatis  "  (Migne,  Patrologia  Latina,  vol. 
exevi.  col.  1207). 

3  "  In  primo  gradu  fit  desponsatio,  in  secundo  nuptiae,  in  tertio  copula,  in  quarto 
puerperium.  .  .  .  De  quarto  dicitur,  Concepimus,  et  quasi  parturivimus  et  peperimus 
spiritum  "  (Isa.  xviii.  26).     [Ot>.  «'/.,  1 2 16,  D.) 


166  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

come  In  to  Him,"  says  Richard.  This  degree,  as  we  shall  see 
later,  answers  more  or  less  to  that  which  other  mystics  call  the 
Illuminative  Way :  but  any  attempt  to  press  these  poetic 
symbols  into  a  cast-iron  series,  and  establish  exact  parallels,  is 
foredoomed  to  failure,  and  will  merely  succeed  in  robbing  them 
of  their  fragrance  and  suggestive  power.  In  Richard's  "  third 
stage,"  however,  that  of  union,  or  wedlock,  it  is  clear  that  the 
soul  enters  upon  the  "  Unitive  Way."  She  has  passed  the 
stages  of  ecstatic  and  significant  events,  and  is  initiated  into 
the  Life.  She  is  "deified,"  "passes  utterly  into  God,  and  is 
glorified  in  Him" :  is  transfigured,  he  says,  by  immediate  con- 
tact with  the  Divine  Substance,  into  an  utterly  different  quality 
of  being.  "  Thus,"  says  St.  John  of  the  Cross,  "  the  soul,  when 
it  shall  have  driven  away  from  itself  all  that  is  contrary  to  the 
divine  will,  becomes  transformed  in  God  by  love."  x 

"  The  Soul,"  says  Richard  again,  "  is  utterly  concentrated  on 
the  One."  She  is  "  caught  up  to  the  divine  light."  The  expres- 
sion of  the  personal  passion,  the  intimate  relation,  here  rises  to 
its  height.  But  this  is  not  enough.  Where  most  mystical 
diagrams  leave  off,  Richard  of  St  Victor's  "  Steep  stairway  of 
Love "  goes  on  :  with  the  result  that  this  is  almost  the  only 
symbolic  system  bequeathed  to  us  by  the  great  contemplatives 
in  which  all  the  implications  contained  in  the  idea  of  the 
spiritual  marriage  have  been  worked  out  to  their  term.  He 
saw  clearly  that  the  union  of  the  soul  with  its  Source  could  not 
be  a  barren  ecstasy.  That  was  to  mistake  a  means  for  an  end  ; 
and  to  frustrate  the  whole  intention  of  life,  which  is,  on  all 
levels,  fruitful  and  creative.  Therefore  he  says  that  in  the  fourth 
degree,  the  Bride  who  has  been  so  greatly  honoured,  caught  up 
to  such  unspeakable  delight,  sinks  her  own  will  and  "  is 
humiliated  below  herself."  She  accepts  the  pains  and  duties 
in  the  place  of  the  raptures  of  love ;  and  becomes  a  source,  a 
"  parent "  of  fresh  spiritual  life.  The  Sponsa  Dei  develops  into 
the  Mater  Divines  gratice.  That  imperative  need  of  life,  to 
push  on,  to  create,  to  spread,  is  here  seen  operating  in  the 
spiritual  sphere.  This  forms  that  rare  and  final  stage  in  the 
evolution  of  the  great  mystics,  in  which  they  return  to 
the  world  which  they  forsook ;  and  there  live,  as  it  were, 
as   centres   of  transcendental  energy,  the  creators  of  spiritual 

x  "  Subida  del  Monte  Carmelo,"  1.  ii.  cap.  v. 


MYSTICISM  AND  SYMBOLISM  167 

families,   the   partners   and   fellow-labourers    with   the   Divine 
Life.* 

Ill 

We  come  now  to  the  symbols  which  have  been  adopted  by 
those  mystics  in  whom  temperamental  consciousness  of  their 
own  imperfection,  and  of  the  unutterable  perfection  of  the 
Absolute  Life  to  which  they  aspired,  has  overpowered  all  other 
aspects  of  man's  quest  of  reality.  The  "seek,  and  ye  shall 
find  "  of  the  pilgrim,  the  "  by  Love  shall  He  be  gotten  and 
holden  "  of  the  bride,  can  never  seem  an  adequate  description 
of  experience  to  minds  of  this  type.  They  are  intent  on  the 
inexorable  truth  which  must  be  accepted  in  some  form  by  both 
these  classes  :  the  crucial  fact  that  "  we  behold  that  which 
we  are,"  or,  in  other  words,  that  "  only  the  Real  can  know 
Reality."  Hence  the  state  of  the  inward  man,  the  "unreal- 
ness "  of  him  when  judged  by  any  transcendental  standard, 
is  their  centre  of  interest.  His  remaking  or  regeneration 
appears  to  them  as  the  primal  necessity,  if  he  is  ever  to  obtain 
rights  of  citizenship  in  the  "  country  of  the  soul." 

We  have  seen  that  this  idea  of  the  New  Birth,  the  remaking 
or  transmutation  of  the  self,  clothed  in  many  different  symbols, 
runs  through  the  whole  of  mysticism  and  much  of  theology. 
It  is  the  mystic's  subjective  reading  of  those  necessary  psycho- 
logical changes  which  he  observes  taking  place  within  himself 
as  his  spiritual  consciousness  grows.  His  hard  work  of 
renunciation,  of  detachment  from  the  things  which  that  con- 
sciousness points  out  as  illusory  or  impure,  his  purifications 
and  trials,  all  form  part  of  it.  If  that  which  is  whole  or  perfect 
is  to  come,  then  that  which  is  in  part  must  be  done  away  : 
"  for  in  what  measure  we  put  off  the  creature,  in  the  same 
measure  are  we  able  to  put  on  the  Creator  :  neither  more 
nor  less."2 

Of  all  the  symbolic  systems  in  which  this  truth  has  been 
enshrined  none  is  so  complete,  so  picturesque,  and  now  so  little 
understood  as  that  of  the  "  Hermetic  Philosophers  "  or  Spiritual 
Alchemists.  This  fact  would  itself  be  sufficient  to  justify  us 
in  examining  some  of  the  chief  features  of  their  symbolism. 

1  Vide  infra,  pt.  ii.  caps.  i.  and  x. 

2  "Theologia  Germanica,"  cap.  i. 


108  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

There  is  a  further  excuse  for  this  apparently  eccentric  pro- 
ceeding, however,  in  the  fact  that  the  language  of  alchemy  was 
largely — though  not  always  accurately  and  consistently — used 
by  the  great  mystic  Jacob  Boehme,  and  after  him  by  his  English 
disciple,  William  Law.  Without,  then,  some  knowledge  of  the 
terms  which  they  employed,  but  seldom  explained,  the  writings 
of  this  important  school  can  hardly  be  understood. 

I  do  not  propose  in  this  place  to  enter  upon  a  long  and 
detailed  discussion  of  the  alchemic  symbols  and  their  applica- 
tion to  the  mystic  life.  These  symbols  are  full  of  an  often 
deliberate  obscurity,  which  makes  their  exact  interpretation  a 
controversial  matter  at  the  best.  Moreover,  the  various  authors 
of  the  Hermetic  writings  do  not  always  use  them  in  the  same 
sense,  and  whilst  many  of  these  writings  are  undoubtedly  mys- 
tical, others  clearly  deal  with  the  physical  quest  of  gold :  nor 
have  we  any  sure  standard  by  which  to  divide  class  from  class. 

The  elements  from  which  the  spiritual  alchemists  built  up 
their  amazing  allegories  of  the  mystic  life  are,  however,  easily 
grasped  :  and  these  elements,  together  with  the  significance 
generally  attributed  to  them,  are  as  much  as  those  who  are 
not  specialists  can  hope  to  unravel  from  this  very  tangled 
skein.  First,  there  are  the  metals,  of  course  the  obvious 
materials  of  physical  alchemy.  These  are  usually  called  by 
the  names  of  their  presiding  planets  :  thus  in  Hermetic  language 
Luna  means  silver,  Sol  gold,  &c.  Then  there  is  the  Vessel, 
or  Athanor,  in  which  the  transmutation  of  base  metal  to  gold 
took  place :  an  object  whose  exact  nature  is  veiled  in  much 
mystery.  The  Fire  and  various  solvents  and  waters,  peculiar  to 
the  different  alchemistic  recipes,  complete  the  apparatus  neces- 
sary to  the  "  Great  Work." 

The  process  of  this  work,  sometimes  described  in  chemical, 
and  sometimes  in  astrological  terms,  is  more  often  than  not 
veiled  in  a  strange  heraldic  and  zoological  symbolism  dealing 
with  Lions,  Dragons,  Eagles,  Vultures,  Ravens  and  Doves  : 
which,  delightful  in  its  picturesqueness,  is  unequalled  in  its  power 
of  confusing  the  anxious  and  unwary  enquirer.  It  is  also  the 
subject  of  innumerable  and  deliberate  allegories,  which  were 
supposed  to  convey  its  secrets  to  the  elect,  whilst  most  certainly 
concealing  them  from  the  crowd.  Hence  it  is  that  the  author 
of  "A  Short  Enquiry  concerning  the  Hermetic  Art"  speaks  for 


MYSTICISM  AND  SYMBOLISM  169 

all  investigators  of  this  subject  when  he  describes  the  "Her- 
metic science  "  as  a  "  great  Labyrinth,  in  which  are  abundance  of 
enquirers  rambling  to  this  day,  many  of  them  undiscerned  by 
one  another."  Like  him,  I  too  "have  taken  several  Turns  in  it 
myself,  wherein  one  shall  meet  with  very  few ;  for  'tis  so  large, 
and  almost  every  one  taking  a  different  Path,  that  they  seldom 
meet.  But  rinding  it  a  very  melancholy  place,  I  resolved  to  get 
out  of  it,  and  rather  content  myself  to  walk  in  the  little  garden 
before  the  entrance,  where  many  things,  though  not  all,  were 
orderly  to  be  seen.  Choosing  rather  to  stay  there,  and  con- 
template on  the  Metaphor  set  up,  than  venture  again  into  the 
wilderness."  * 

Coming,  then,  to  the  "  Contemplation  of  the  Metaphor  set 
up," — by  far  the  most  judicious  course  for  modern  students  of 
the  Hermetic  art — we  observe  first  that  the  prime  object  of 
alchemy  was  held  to  be  the  production  of  the  Philosopher's 
Stone;  that  perfect  and  incorrupt  substance,  or  "  noble  Tincture," 
never  found  upon  our  imperfect  earth  in  its  natural  state,  which 
could  purge  all  baser  metals  of  their  dross,  and  turn  them  to 
pure  gold.  The  quest  of  the  Stone,  in  fact,  was  but  one  aspect 
of  man's  everlasting  quest  of  perfection,  his  hunger  for  the 
Absolute  ;  and  hence  an  appropriate  symbol  of  the  mystic 
life.  But  this  quest  was  not  conducted  in  some  far  off  tran- 
scendental kingdom.  It  was  prosecuted  in  the  Here  and  Now, 
amongst  the  ordinary  things  of  natural  life. 

Gold,  the  Crowned  King,  or  Sol,  as  it  is  called  in  the 
planetary  symbolism  of  the  alchemists,  was  their  standard  of 
perfection,  the  "Perfect  Metal."  Towards  it,  as  the  Christian 
towards  sanctity,  their  wills  were  set.  It  had  for  them  a 
value  not  sordid  but  ideal.  Nature,  they  thought,  is  always 
trying  to  make  gold,  this  incorruptible  and  perfect  thing  ;  and 
the  other  metals  are  merely  the  results  of  the  frustration  of  her 
original  design.  Nor  is  this  aiming  at  perfection  and  achieving 
of  imperfection  limited  to  the  physical  world.  Quod  superius, 
sicut  quod  inferius.  Upon  the  spiritual  plane  also  they  held 
that  the  Divine  Idea  is  always  aiming  at  "  Spiritual  Gold " — 
divine  humanity,  the  New  Man,  citizen  of  the  transcendental 
world — and  "  natural  man  "  as  we  ordinarily  know  him  is  a 
lower  metal,  silver  at  best,  a  departure  from  the  "  plan " ;  who 
1  "  A  Short  Enquiry  Concerning  the  Hermetic  Art,"  p.  29. 


170  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

yet  bears  within  himself,  if  we  could  find  it,  the  spark  or  seed 
of  absolute  perfection  :  the  "  tincture  "  which  makes  gold.  "  The 
smattering  I  have  of  the  Philosopher's  Stone,"  says  Sir  Thomas 
Browne,  "  (which  is  something  more  than  the  perfect  exaltation 
of  gold)  hath  taught  me  a  great  deal  of  divinity,  and  instructed 
my  belief  how  that  immortal  spirit  and  incorruptible  substance 
of  my  soul  may  lie  obscure,  and  sleep  awhile  within  this  house 
of  flesh."  *  This  "  incorruptible  substance  "  is  man's  goldness, 
his  perfect  principle :  for  "  the  highest  mineral  virtue  resides  in 
Man,"  says  Albertus  Magnus,  "  and  Gold  may  be  found  every 
where." 2  Hence  the  prosecution  of  a  spiritual  chemistry  is  a 
proper  part  of  the  true  Hermetic  science. 

The  art  of  the  alchemist,  whether  spiritual  or  physical, 
consists  in  completing  the  work  of  perfection,  bringing  forth 
and  making  dominant,  as  it  were,  the  "  latent  goldness  "  which 
"  lies  obscure  "  in  metal  or  man.  The  ideal  adept  of  alchemy 
was  therefore  an  "  auxiliary  of  the  Eternal  Goodness."  By  his 
search  for  the  "  Noble  Tincture "  which  should  restore  an 
imperfect  world,  he  became  a  partner  in  the  business  of 
creation,  assisting  the  Cosmic  Plan. 

The  proper  art  of  the  Spiritual  Alchemist,  with  whom  alone 
we  are  here  concerned,  was  the  production  of  the  spiritual  and 
only  valid  tincture  or  Philosopher's  Stone,  the  mystic  seed  of 
transcendental  life  which  should  invade,  tinge,  and  wholly 
transmute  the  imperfect  self  into  spiritual  gold.  That  this 
was  no  fancy  of  seventeenth-century  allegorists,  but  an  idea 
familiar  to  many  of  the  oldest  writers  upon  alchemy — whose 
quest  was  truly  a  spiritual  search  into  the  deepest  secrets  of  the 
soul — is  proved  by  the  words  which  bring  to  an  end  the  first 
part  of  the  antique  "  Golden  Treatise  upon  the  Making  of  the 
Stone,"  sometimes  attributed  to  Hermes  Trismegistus.  "  This, 
O  Son,"  says  that  remarkable  tract,  "  is  the  Concealed  Stone  of 
Many  Colours  ;  which  is  born  and  brought  forth  in  one  colour  ; 
know  this  and  conceal  it  ...  it  leads  from  darkness  into  light, 

1  "  Religio  Medici,"  pt.  i. 

a  "A  Suggestive  Enquiry  into  the  Hermetic  Mystery,"  p.  143.  This  rare  and 
curious  study  of  spiritual  alchemy  was  the  anonymous  work  of  the  late  Mrs.  Atwood, 
who  attempted  to  suppress  it  soon  after  publication  under  the  impression— common 
amongst  mystics  of  a  certain  type — that  she  had  revealed  matters  which  might  not 
be  spoken  of.  In  the  same  way  Coventry  Patmore  destroyed  his  masterpiece, 
11  Sponsa  Dei." 


MYSTICISM  AND  SYMBOLISM  171 

from  this  desert  wilderness  to  a  secure  habitation,  and  from 
poverty  and  straits  to  a  free  and  ample  fortune."  x 

Man,  then,  was  for  the  alchemists  "  the  true  laboratory  of 
the  Hermetic  art " ;  which  concealed  in  an  entanglement  ot 
vague  and  contradictory  symbols  the  life-process  of  his  ascen- 
sion to  that  perfect  state  in  which  he  was  able  to  meet  God. 
This  state  must  not  be  confused  with  a  merely  moral  purity. 
but  must  be  understood  as  involving  utter  transmutation  into 
a  "  new  form."  It  naturally  followed  from  this  that  the  in- 
dwelling Christ,  the  "  Corner  Stone,"  the  Sun  of  Righteousness, 
became,  for  many  of  the  Christian  alchemists,  identified  with 
the  Lapis  P  kilos  op  horum  and  with  Sol  :  and  was  regarded  both 
as  the  image  and  as  the  earnest  of  this  "great  work."  His 
spirit  was  the  "  noble  tincture  "  which  "  can  bring  that  which  is 
lowest  in  the  death  to  its  highest  ornament  or  glory," 2  trans- 
mutes the  natural  to  the  supernatural,  operates  the  "  New  Birth." 
"This,"  says  Boehme,  "is  the  noble  precious  Stone  {Lapis  Philo- 
sophorum),  the  Philosopher's  Stone,  which  the  Magi  (or  wise 
men)  find  which  tinctureth  nature,  and  generateth  a  new  son 
in  the  old.  He  who  findeth  that,  esteemeth  more  highly 
of  it  than  of  this  (outward)  world.  For  the  Son  is  many 
thousand  times  greater  than  the  Father."  Again,  "  If  you 
take  the  spirit  of  the  tincture,  then  indeed  you  go  on  a  way 
in  which  many  have  found  Sol  ;  but  they  have  followed  on 
the  way  to  the  heart  of  Sol,  where  the  spirit  of  the  heavenly 
tincture  hath  laid  hold  on  them,  and  brought  them  into  the 
liberty,  into  the  Majesty,  where  they  have  Known  the  Noble 
Stone,  Lapis  Philosophormn,  the  Philosopher's  Stone,  and 
have  stood  amazed  at  man's  blindness,  and  seen  his 
labouring  in  vain.  Would  you  fain  find  the  Noble  Stone? 
Behold  we  will  show  it  you  plain  enough,  if  you  be  a  Magus, 
and  worthy,  else  you  shall  remain  blind  still :  therefore  fall  to 
work  thus  :  for  it  hath  no  more  but  three  numbers.  First  tell 
from  one  till  you  come  to  the  Cross,  which  is  ten  (X)  .... 
and  there  lieth  the  Stone  without  any  great  painstaking,  for  it  is 
pure  and  not  defiled  with  any  earthly  nature." 

"In  this  stone  there  lieth  hidden,  whatsoever  God  and  the 

1  Quoted  in  "  A  Suggestive  Enquiry  into  the  Hermetic  Mystery,"  p.  107.     The 
whole  of  the  "Golden  Treatise  "  will  be  found  set  out  in  this  work. 

2  Jacob  Boehme,  "The  Threefold  Life  of  Man,"  cap.  iv.  §  23. 


172  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

Eternity,  also  heaven,  the  stars  and  elements  contain  and  are 
able  to  do.  There  never  was  from  eternity  anything  better  or 
more  precious  than  this,  and  it  is  offered  by  God  and  bestowed 
upon  man  ;  every  one  may  have  it  ...  it  is  in  a  simple  form, 
and  hath  the  power  of  the  whole  Deity  in  it." " 

Boehme,  however,  is  here  using  alchemic  symbols,  according 
to  his  custom,  in  a  loose  and  artistic  manner;  for  the  true 
Hermetic  Philosopher's  Stone  is  not  something  which  can  be 
found  but  something  which  must  be  made.  The  alchemists, 
whether  their  search  be  for  a  physical  or  a  spiritual  "  tincture," 
say  always  that  this  tincture  is  the  product  of  the  furnace 
and  Athanor :  and  further  that  it  is  composed  of  "  three  num- 
bers "  or  elements,  which  they  call  Sulphur,  Salt,  and  Mercury. 
These,  when  found,  and  forced  into  the  proper  combination, 
form  the  "  Azoth  "  or  "  Philosopher's  Egg  "—the  stuff  or  First 
Matter  of  the  Great  Work.  Sulphur,  Salt,  and  Mercury,  how- 
ever, must  not  be  understood  in  too  literal  a  sense. 

"  You  need  not  look  for  our  metallic  seed  among  the 
elements,"  says  Basil  the  Monk,  "  it  need  not  be  sought  so  far 
back.  If  you  can  only  rectify  the  Mercury,  Sulphur,  and  Salt 
(understand  those  of  the  sages)  until  the  metallic  spirit  and  body 
are  inseparably  joined  together  by  means  of  the  metallic  soul, 
you  thereby  firmly  rivet  the  chain  of  love  and  prepare  the  palace 
for  the  Coronation."  2 

Of  these  three  ingredients,  the  important  one  is  the  spiritual 
principle,  the  unseizable  Mercury ;  which  is  far  from  being  the 
metal  which  we  ordinarily  know  by  that  name.  The  Mercury 
which  the  alchemists  sought — often  in  strange  places — is  a 
hidden  and  powerful  substance.  They  call  it  "  Mercury  of  the 
Wise  "  ;  and  he  who  can  discover  it,  they  say,  is  on  the  way 
towards  success.  The  reader  in  search  of  mystical  wisdom 
already  begins  to  be  bewildered  ;  but  if  he  persevere  in  this 
labyrinth  of  symbolism,  he  presently  discovers — as  Basil  the 
Monk  indeed  hints — that  the  Sulphur  and  the  Salt,  or  "  metallic 
soul  and  body  "  of  the  spiritual  chemistry,  represent  something 
analogous  to  the  body  and  mind  of  man — Sulphur  his  earthly 

1  Boehme,  "The  Threefold  Life  of  Man,"  cap.  vi.  §  98;  cap.  x.  §§  3,  4 ;  and 
cap.  xiii.  §  1. 

3  "The  Golden  Tripod  of  the  Monk  Basilius  Valentinus  "  (The  Hermetic  Museum, 
vol.  i.  p.  319). 


MYSTICISM  AND  SYMBOLISM  173 

nature,  seasoned  with  intellectual  salt.  The  Mercury  is  Spirit  in 
its  most  mystic  sense,  the  Synteresis  or  holy  Dweller  in  the  Inner- 
most, the  immanent  spark  or  Divine  Principle  of  his  life.  Only 
the  "  wise,"  the  mystically  awakened,  can  know  this  Mercury, 
the  agent  of  man's  transmutation :  and  until  it  has  been  discovered, 
brought  out  of  the  hiddenness,  nothing  can  be  done.  "  This 
Mercury  or  Snowy  Splendour,  is  a  Celestial  Body  drawn  from 
the  beams  of  the  Sun  and  the  Moon.  It  is  the  only  Agent  in 
the  world  for  this  art."  x  It  is  the  divine-human  "  spark  of  the 
soul,"  the  bridge  between  Gold  and  Silver,  God  and  Man. 

The  Three  Principles  being  enclosed  in  the  vessel,  or 
Athanor,  which  is  man  himself,  and  subjected  to  a  gentle  fire 
— the  Incendium  Amoris — the  process  of  the  Great  Work,  the 
mystic  transmutation  of  natural  into  spiritual  man,  can  begin. 
This  work,  like  the  ingredients  which  compose  it,  has  "three 
numbers  "  :  and  the  first  matter,  in  the  course  of  its  transmu- 
tation, assumes  three  successive  colours:  the  Black,  the  White, 
and  the  Red.  These  three  colours  are  strictly  analogous  to  the 
three  traditional  stages  of  the  Mystic  Way  :  Purgation,  Illumin- 
ation, Union. 

The  alchemists  call  the  first  stage,  or  Blackness,  Putre- 
faction. In  it  the  three  principles  which  compose  the  "whole 
man  "  of  body,  soul  and  spirit,  are  "  sublimated  "  till  they  appear 
as  a  black  powder  full  of  corruption,  and  the  imperfect  body  is 
"dissolved  and  purified  by  subtle  Mercury";  as  man  is  purified  by 
the  darkness,  misery,  and  despair  which  follows  the  emergence 
of  his  spiritual  consciousness.  As  psychic  uproar  and  disorder 
seems  part  of  the  process  of  mental  growth,  so  "  Solve  et  coagula" 
— break  down  that  you  may  build  up — is  the  watchword  of  the 
spiritual  alchemist.  The  "  black  beast,"  the  passional  element, 
of  the  lower  nature  must  emerge  and  be  dealt  with  before  any- 
thing further  can  be  done.  "  There  is  a  black  beast  in  our 
forest,"  says  the  highly  allegorical  "  Book  of  Lambspring,"  "  his 
name  is  Putrefaction,  his  blackness  is  called  the  Plead  of  the 
Raven  ;  when  it  is  cut  off,  Whiteness  appears."  2  This  White- 
ness, the  state  of  Luna,  or  Silver,  the  "  chaste  and  immaculate 
Queen,"  is  the  equivalent  of  the  Illuminative  Way  :  the  highest 
point   which   the   mystic   can   attain   short  of  union   with  the 

1  "  A  Short  Enquiry  Concerning  the  Hermetic  Art,"  p.  17. 

2  *'  The  Hermetic  Museum,"  vol.  i.  p.  272. 


174  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

Absolute.  This  White  Stone  is  pure,  and  precious ;  but  in  it 
the  Great  Work  of  man's  spiritual  evolution  has  not  yet  reached 
its  term.  That  term  is  the  attainment  of  the  Red,  the  colour  of 
Perfection  or  alchemic  gold  ;  a  process  sometimes  called  the 
"  Marriage  of  Luna  and  Sol " — the  fusion  of  the  human  and 
divine  spirit.  Under  this  image  is  concealed  the  final  secret  of 
the  mystic  life  :  that  ineffable  union  of  finite  and  infinite — that 
loving  reception  of  the  inflowing  vitality  of  God — from  which 
comes  forth  the  Magnum  Opus  :  deified  or  spiritual  man. 

"  This,"  says  the  author  of  "  A  Suggestive  Enquiry,"  "  is  the 
union  supersentient,  the  nuptials  sublime,  Mentis  et  Universi.  .  .  . 
Lo !  behold  I  will  open  to  thee  a  mystery,  cries  the  Adept,  the 
bridegroom  crowneth  the  bride  of  the  north  [*>.,  she  who  comes 
out  of  the  cold  and  darkness  of  the  lower  nature].  In  the 
darkness  of  the  north,  out  of  the  crucifixion  of  the  cerebral  life, 
when  the  sensual  dominant  is  occultated  in  the  Divine  Fiat,  and 
subdued,  there  arises  a  Light  wonderfully  about  the  summit, 
which  wisely  returned  and  multiplied  according  to  the  Divine 
Blessing,  is  made  substantial  in  life."  x 

I  have  said,  that  side  by  side  with  the  metallic  and  planetary 
language  of  the  alchemists,  runs  a  strange  heraldic  symbolism 
in  which  they  take  refuge  when  they  fear— generally  without 
reason — that  they  are  telling  their  secrets  too  plainly  to  an 
unregenerate  world.  Many  of  these  heraldic  emblems  are  used 
in  an  utterly  irresponsible  manner ;  and  whilst  doubtless  con- 
veying a  meaning  to  the  individual  alchemist  and  the  disciples 
for  whom  he  wrote,  are,  and  must  ever  be,  unintelligible  to  other 
men.  But  others  are  of  a  more  general  application  ;  and  appear 
so  frequently  in  seventeenth-century  literature,  whether  mystical 
or  non-mystical,  that  some  discussion  of  them  may  well  be 
of  use. 

erhaps  the  quaintest  and  most  celebrated  of  all  these 
allegories  is  that  which  describes  the  quest  of  the  Philosopher's 
Stone  as  the  "  hunting  of  the  Green  Lion."  2  The  Green  Lion, 
though  few  would  divine  it,  is  the  First  Matter  of  the  Great 
Work :  hence,  in  spiritual  alchemy,  natural  man  in  his  whole- 

1  "  A  Suggestive  Enquiry,"  p.  354. 

a  See  "A  Short  Enquiry,"  p.  17,  and  "  A  Suggestive  Enquiry,"  pp.  297  ct  seq. 
where  the  rhymed  Alchemic  tract  called  "Hunting  the  Greene  Lyon"  is  printed 
in  full. 


MYSTICISM  AND  SYMBOLISM  175 

ness — Salt,  Sulphur,  and  Mercury  in  their  crude  state.  He  is 
called  green  because,  seen  from  the  transcendent  standpoint,  he 
is  still  unripe,  his  latent  powers  undeveloped  ;  and  a  Lion, 
because  of  his  strength,  fierceness,  and  virility.  Here  the 
common  opinion  that  a  pious  effeminacy,  a  diluted  and  amiable 
spirituality,  is  the  proper  raw  material  of  the  mystic  life,  is 
emphatically  contradicted.  It  is  not  by  the  education  of  the 
lamb,  but  by  the  hunting  and  taming  of  the  wild  intractable 
lion,  instinct  with  vitality,  full  of  ardour  and  courage,  exhibiting 
heroic  qualities  on  the  sensual  plane,  that  the  Great  Work  is 
achieved.     The  lives  of  the  saints  enforce  the  same  law. 


M  Our  lyon  wanting  maturitie 
Is  called  greene  for  his  unripeness  trust  me 
And  yet  full  quickly  he  can  run, 
And  soon  can  overtake  the  Sun."  * 


The  Green  Lion,  then,  in  his  strength  and  wholeness  is  the 
only  creature  potentially  able  to  attain  Perfection.  It  needs  the 
adoption  and  purification  of  all  the  wealth  and  resources  of 
man's  nature,  not  merely  the  encouragement  of  his  transcen- 
dental tastes,  if  he  is  to  overtake  it  and  achieve  the  Great  Work. 
The  Kingdom  of  Heaven  is  taken  by  violence,  not  by  amiable 
aspiration.  "The  Green  Lion,"  says  one  alchemist,  "is  the 
priest  by  whom  Sol  and  Luna  are  wed."  In  other  words,  the 
raw  stuff  of  indomitable  human  nature  is  the  means  by  which 
man  is  to  attain  union  with  the  Absolute. 

The  duty  of  the  alchemist,  then,  the  transmuting  process,  is 
described  as  the  hunting  of  the  Green  Lion  through  the  forest 
of  the  sensual  world.  He,  like  the  Hound  of  Heaven,  is  on  a 
love  chase  down  the  nights  and  down  the  days. 

When  the  lion  is  caught,  when  Destiny  overtakes  it,  as  the 
preliminary  to  the  necessary  taming  process,  its  head  must  be 
cut  off.  This  is  called  by  the  alchemists  "the  head  of  the 
Raven,"  the  Crow,  or  the  Vulture,  "  for  its  blackness."  It 
represents  the  fierce  and  corrupt  life  of  the  passions  :  and  its 
removal  is  that  "  death  of  the  lower  nature  "  which  is  the  object 
of  all  asceticism — i.e.  Purgation.  The  lion,  the  whole  man, 
Humanity  in  its  strength,  is  as  it  were   "slain  to  the  world," 

1  Op.  cit. 


176  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

and  then  resuscitated  ;  but  in  a  very  different  shape.  By  its 
passage  through  this  mystic  death  or  the  "putrefaction  of  the 
Three  Principles  "  the  "  colour  of  unripeness "  is  taken  away. 
Its  taming  completed,  it  receives  wings,  wherewith  it  may  fly 
up  to  Sol,  the  Perfect  or  Divine ;  and  is  transmuted,  say  the 
alchemists,  into  the  Red  Dragon.  This  is  of  course  to  us  a 
hopelessly  grotesque  image  :  but  to  the  Hermetic  philosophers, 
whose  sense  of  wonder  was  yet  uncorrupt,  it  was  the  deeply 
mystical  emblem  of  a  new,  strange,  and  transcendental  life, 
powerful  alike  in  earth  and  in  heaven.  As  the  angel  to  the 
man,  so  was  the  dragon  to  the  world  of  beasts :  a  creature  of 
splendour  and  terror,  a  super-brute,  veritably  existent  if  seldom 
seen.  We  may  perhaps  realize  something  of  the  significance  of 
this  symbol  for  the  alchemic  writers,  if  we  remember  how  sacred 
a  meaning  it  has  for  the  Chinese :  to  whom  it  is  the  traditional 
emblem  of  free  spiritual  life,  as  the  tiger  represents  the  life  of 
the  material  plane  in  its  intensest  form.  Since  it  is  from  China 
that  the  practice  of  alchemy  is  supposed  to  have  reached  the 
European  world,  it  may  yet  be  found  that  the  Red  Dragon  is 
one  of  the  most  antique  and  significant  symbols  of  the  Her- 
metic Art. 

For  the  Spiritual  Chemistry,  then,  the  Red  Dragon  repre- 
sents Deified  Man  ;  whose  emergence  must  always  seem  like 
the  birth  of  some  monstrous  and  amazing  creature  when  seen 
from  the  standpoint  of  the  merely  natural  world.  With  his 
coming  forth,  the  business  of  the  alchemist,  in  so  far  as  he  be  a 
mystic,  is  done.  Man  has  transcended  his  lower  nature,  has 
received  wings  wherewith  to  live  on  higher  levels  of  reality. 
The  Tincture,  the  latent  goldness,  has  been  found  and  made 
dominant,  the  Magnum  Opus  achieved.  That  the  true  and 
inward  business  of  that  Work,  when  stripped  of  its  many 
emblematic  veils,  was  indeed  the  reordering  of  spiritual  rather 
than  material  elements,  is  an  opinion  which  rests  on  a  more 
solid  foundation  than  personal  interpretations  of  old  allegories 
and  alchemic  tracts.  The  Norwich  physician — himself  deeply 
read  in  the  Hermetic  science — has  declared  to  us  his  own 
certainty  concerning  it  in  few  but  lovely  words.  In  them  is 
contained  the  true  mystery  of  man's  eternal  and  interior  quest 
of  the  Stone  :  its  reconciliation  with  that  other,  outgoing  quest 
of  "the  Hidden  Treasure  that  desires  to  be  found." 


MYSTICISM  AND  SYMBOLISM  177 

"  Do  but  extract  from  the  corpulency  of  bodies,  or  resolve 
things  beyond  their  First  Matter,  and  you  discover  the  habita- 
tion of  Angels  :  which,  if  I  call  it  the  ubiquitary  and  omni- 
present Essence  of  God,  I  hope  I  shall  not  offend  Divinity." x 

1  Sir  Thomas  Browne,  "  Religio  Medici,"  pt.  i. 


CHAPTER  VII 

MYSTICISM   AND   MAGIC 

Persistence  of  occultism — It  accompanies  mystical  activity — is  often  confused  with 
it — It  is  a  serious  philosophy — Its  claim  stated  and  criticized — Its  limits — It  does  not 
attain  the  Absolute — It  influences  all  religion  and  some  science — It  is  based  on 
psychological  laws — Its  aim  is  to  enlarge  man's  universe — Its  method  is  enhance- 
ment of  the  will — Modern  magic — "  New  "  Thought — The  doctrines  of  Magic — 
Eliphas  Levi — Hermes  Trismegistus — Three  occult  dogmas — (i)  The  Astral  Light — 
antiquity  of  this  idea — The  Cosmic  memory — The  "universal  agent" — (2)  The 
Power  of  the  Will — Occult  education — a  re-making  of  character — Magic  ceremonies 
agents  of  will-enhancement — addressed  to  the  subconscious  mind — Value  of 
liturgies — Symbols — they  are  (a)  instruments  of  self-suggestion  (b)  autoscopes — 
J^stffr  (3)  The  Doctrine  of  Analogy — Its  breadth  of  application — in  mysticism — in  art — 
'  '**'  Abnormal  power  of  the  trained  will  over  the  body — in  religion — in  producing 
transcendental  consciousness — Mental  healing  purely  magical — Attitude  of  occultism 
to  suffering — The  pure  theory  of  magic — its  defects — its  influence  on  character — 
Magic  and  religion — Occult  elements  in  Christianity — Ceremonial  religion  largely 
magical — This  is  necessarily  so — The  inner  and  the  outer  church — The  Church  of 
Mysticism  and  Church  of  Magic 

IT  seems  hardly  necessary  to  examine  in  detail  the  mistakes 
— or,  in  ecclesiastical  language,  the  heresies — into  which 
men  have  been  led  by  a  feeble,  a  deformed,  or  an  arrogant 
mystical  sense.  The  number  of  such  mistakes  is  countless ; 
their  wildness  almost  inconceivable  to  those  who  have  not  been 
forced  to  study  them.  Too  often  it  has  happened  that  the  loud 
voices  and  strange  declarations  of  their  apostles  have  drowned 
the  quieter  accents  of  the  orthodox. 

It  would  seem  as  though  the  moment  of  puberty  were  far 
more  critical  in  the  spiritual  than  it  is  in  the  physical  life  :  the 
ordinary  dangers  of  adolescence  being  intensified  when  they 
appear  upon  the  higher  levels  of  consciousness.  Man,  becom- 
ing aware  of  a  new  power  and  new  desires  within  him,  abruptly 
subjected  to  the  influx  of  new  life,  is  dazzled  and  pleased  by 
every  brilliant  and  fantastic   guess,  every  invitation,  which  is 

178 


MYSTICISM  AND  MAGIC  179 

offered  to  him.  In  the  condition  of  psychic  disorder  which 
is  characteristic  of  his  movement  to  new  states,  he  is  unusually 
at  the  mercy  of  the  suggestions  and  impressions  which  he 
receives.  Hence  in  every  period  of  mystical  activity  we  find 
an  outbreak  of  occultism,  illuminism,  or  other  perverted  spiritu- 
ality. In  the  youth  of  the  Christian  Church,  side  by  side  with 
the  great  Neoplatonists,  we  have  the  arrogant  and  disorderly 
transcendentalism  of  the  Gnostics:  their  attempted  fusion  of  the 
ideals  of  mysticism  and  magic.  During  the  Middle  Ages  and 
the  Renaissance  there  is  the  spurious  mysticism  of  the  Brethren 
of  the  Free  Spirit,  the  occult  propaganda  of  Paracelsus,  the 
Rosicrucians,  the  Christian  Kabalists  ;  and  the  innumerable 
pantheistic,  Manichean,  mystery-making,  and  Quietist  heresies 
which  made  war  upon  Catholic  tradition.  Usually  owing  their 
existence  to  the  undisciplined  will  and  imagination  of  some 
individual  adventurer,  these  died  with  the  death  of  his  influence, 
and  only  the  specialist  in  strange  faiths  now  cares  to  trouble 
their  graves. 

But  it  is  otherwise  with  the  root  idea  whence  these  perverse 
activities  most  usually  develop.  This  cannot  be  so  easily  dis- 
missed, nor  is  it  in  our  interest  so  to  treat  it ;  for,  as  Reality 
is  best  defined  by  means  of  negatives,  so  the  right  doctrine  is 
often  more  easily  understood  after  a  consideration  of  the  wrong. 
In  the  case  of  mysticism,  which  deals  largely  with  the  unutter- 
able, and  where  language  at  once  exact  and  affirmative  is 
particularly  hard  to  find,  such  a  course  is  almost  certain  to 
help  us.  Leaving  therefore  the  specifically  mystical  error  of 
Quietism  until  we  come  to  the  detailed  discussion  of  the  states 
of  orison,  we  will  consider  some  of  those  other  super-normal 
activities  of  the  self  which  we  have  already  agreed  to  classify  as 
magic  : x  and  learn  through  them  more  of  the  hidden  forces 
which  she  has  at  her  command,  the  dangerous  liberty  which  she 
enjoys  in  their  regard. 

The  word  "  magic  "  is  now  out  of  fashion,  though  its  spirit 
was  never  more  widely  diffused  than  at  the  present  time. 
Thanks  to  the  gradual  debasement  of  the  verbal  currency,  it 
suggests  to  the  ordinary  reader  the  art  practised  by  Mr. 
Maskelyne.  The  shelf  which  is  devoted  to  its  literature  at 
the  London  Library  contains  many  useful  works  on  sleight-of- 

1  Suj>rat  p.  84. 


180  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

hand  and  parlour  tricks.  It  has  dragged  with  it  in  its  fall  the 
terrific  verb  "to  conjure,"  which,  forgetting  that  it  once  com- 
pelled the  spirits  of  men  and  angels,  is  now  content  to  produce 
rabbits  from  top-hats.  This  circumstance  would  have  little 
more  than  philological  importance,  were  it  not  that  the  true 
adepts  of  modern  occultism — annoyed,  one  supposes,  by  this 
abuse  of  their  ancient  title — tend  more  and  more  to  arrogate  to 
their  tenets  and  practices  the  name  of  "  Mystical  Science." 
Vaughan,  in  his  rather  supercilious  survey  of  the  mystics,  long 
ago  classed  all  forms  of  white  magic,  alchemy,  and  occult 
philosophy  as  "  theurgic  mysticism," x  and,  on  the  other  side  of 
the  shield,  the  occultists  display  an  increasing  eagerness  to  claim 
the  mystics  as  masters  in  their  school.2  Even  the  "  three-fold 
way  "  of  mysticism  has  been  adopted  by  them,  and  relabelled 
"  Probation,  Enlightenment,  Initiation."  3 

In  our  search  for  the  characteristics  of  mysticism  we  have 
already  marked  the  boundary  which  separates  it  from  magic  : 
and  tried  to  define  the  true  nature  and  intention  of  occult 
philosophy.4  Now,  I  think,  we  may  usefully  ask  of  magic 
in  its  turn  what  it  can  tell  us  of  the  transcendental  powers 
and  consciousness  of  man.  We  saw  that  it  represented  the 
instinctive  human  "desire  to  know  more"  applied  to  supra- 
sensible  things.  For  good  or  ill  this  desire  and  the  occult 
sciences  and  magic  arts  which  express  it,  have  haunted 
humanity  from  the  earliest  times.  No  student  of  man  dare 
neglect  their  investigation,  however  distasteful  to  his  intelli- 
gence their  superficial  absurdities  may  be. 

The  starting-point  of  all  magic  and  of  all  magical  religion — 
the  best  and  purest  of  occult  activities — is,  as  in  mysticism, 
man's  inextinguishable  conviction  that  there  are  other  planes 
of  being  than  those  which  his  senses  report  to  him ;  and  its 
proceedings  represent  the  intellectual  and  individualistic  results 
of  this  conviction — his  craving  for  the  hidden  knowledge.  It 
is,  in  the  eyes  of  those  who  practise  it,  a  moyen  de  parvenir: 
not  the  performance  of  illicit  tricks,  but  a  serious  and  philo- 

1  R.  A.  Vaughan,  "  Hours  with  the  Mystics,"  vol.  i.  bk.  i.  ch.  v. 

*  In  a  list  published  by  Papus  from  the  archives  of  the  Martinists,  we  find  such 
diverse  names  as  Averroes,  St.  Thomas  Aquinas,  Vincent  of  Beauvais,  and  Sweden- 
borg,  given  as  followers  of  the  occult  tradition  ! 

3  See  R.  Steiner,  "The  Way  of  Initiation,"  p.  in. 

4  Supra,  loc.  cit. 


MYSTICISM  AND  MAGIC  181 

sophic  attempt  to  solve  the  riddle  of  the  world.  Its  result, 
according  to  one  of  the  best  modern  writers  upon  occult  philo- 
sophy, "  comprises  an  actual,  positive,  and  realizable  knowledge 
concerning  the  worlds  which  we  denominate  invisible,  because 
they  transcend  the  imperfect  and  rudimentary  faculties  of  a 
partially  developed  humanity,  and  concerning  the  latent  poten- 
tialities which  constitute,  by  the  fact  of  their  latency — the^ 
interior  man.  In  more  strictly  philosophical  language,  the 
Hermetic  science  is  a  method  of  transcending  the  phenomenal 
world  and  attaining  to  the  reality  which  is  behind  phenomena." J 

Though  certain  parts  of  this  enormous  claim  seem  able 
to  justify  themselves  in  experience,  the  whole  of  it  cannot  be 
admitted.  The  last  phrase  in  particular  is  identical  with  the 
promise  which  we  have  seen  to  be  characteristic  of  mysticism. 
It  presents  magic  as  a  pathway  to  reality.  We  may  as  well 
say  at  once  that  this  promise  is  not  fulfilled ;  for  the  apparent 
transcending  of  phenomena  does  not  necessarily  entail  the 
attainment  of  the  Absolute.  Such  an  attainment  must,  as  its 
first  condition,  meet  and  satisfy  upon  the  plane  of  reality  each 
activity  of  the  self:  Love,  Will,  and  Thought.  Magic  at  its 
best  only  satisfies  two  of  these  claimants  ;  and  this  by  extend- 
ing rather  than  escaping  the  boundaries  of  the  phenomenal 
world.  At  its  worst,  it  satisfies  none.  It  stands  for  that  form 
of  transcendentalism  which  does  abnormal  things,  but  does  not 
lead  anywhere :  and  we  are  likely  to  fall  victims  to  some  kind 
of  magic  the  moment  that  the  declaration  "  I  want  to  know " 
ousts  the  declaration  "  I  want  to  be "  from  the  chief  place  in 
our  consciousness.  The  true  "  science  of  ultimates  "  must  be  a 
science  of  pure  Being,  for  reasons  which  the  reader  is  now 
in  a  position  to  discover  for  himself:  but  magic  is  merely  a 
system  whereby  the  self  tries  to  assuage  its  transcendental 
curiosity  by  an  extension  of  the  activities  of  the  will  beyond 
their  usual  limits,  obtaining  by  this  means  experimental  know- 
ledge of  planes  of  existence  usually — but  inaccurately — regarded 
as  "  supernatural." 

It  will,  no  doubt,  be  felt  by  those  who  are  not  occultists  that 
even  this  modified  claim  needs  justification.  Few  recognize 
that  the  whole  business  of  the  true  magician  is  not  with  vulgar 
marvels,  but  with  transcendental  matters :  fewer  still  that  this 

1  A.  E.  Waite,  "The  Occult  Sciences,"  p.  I. 


182  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

business  may  be  prosecuted  with  honesty  and  success.  The 
search  after  hidden  things  has  become  synonymous  with  foolish 
and  disreputable  deceits  :  and  the  small  but  faithful  company 
of  Thrice-great  Hermes  is  confused  with  the  army  of  camp- 
followers  which  preys  upon  its  ranks. 

Most  persons  who  do  not  specialize  in  the  eccentric  sciences 
are  of  opinion  that  in  these  days  the  occultist  can  only  be  said 
to  exist  in  either  the  commercial  or  the  academic  sense.  The 
Bond  Street  palmist  may  represent  one  class;  the  annotator 
of  improper  grimoires  the  other.  In  neither  department  is  the 
thing  supposed  to  be  taken  seriously :  it  is  merely  the  means 
of  obtaining  money  or  of  assuaging  a  rather  morbid  curiosity. 

Such  a  view  is  far  from  being  accurate.  In  magic,  whether 
we  choose  to  regard  it  as  a  superstition  or  a  science,  we  have 
at  any  rate  the  survival  of  a  great  and  ancient  tradition,  the 
true  splendour  and  meaning  of  whose  title  should  hardly  have 
been  lost  in  a  Christian  country ;  for  it  claims  to  be  the 
science  of  those  Magi  whose  quest  of  the  symbolic  Blazing 
Star  brought  them  once,  at  l^.ast,  to  the  cradle  of  the  In- 
carnate God.  Its  laws,  and  the  ceremonial  rites  which  express 
those  laws,  have  come  down  to  us  from  immemorial  antiquity. 
They  enshrine  a  certain  definite  knowledge,  and  a  large 
number  of  less  definite  theories,  concerning  the  sensual  and 
supersensual  worlds,  and  concerning  powers  which  man, 
according  to  occult  thinkers,  may  develop  if  he  will.  Ortho- 
dox persons  should  be  careful  how  they  condemn  the  laws  of 
magic  :  for  they  unwittingly  conform  to  many  of  them  whenever 
they  go  to  church.  All  formal  religion  is  saturated  with  magic. 
The  art  of  medicine  will  never  wholly  cast  it  off:  many  cen- 
turies ago  it  gave  birth  to  that  which  we  now  call  modern 
science.  It  seems  to  possess  inextinguishable  life.  This  is 
not  surprising  when  we  perceive  how  firmly  occultism  is  rooted 
in  psychology :  how  perfectly  it  is  adapted  to  certain  perennial 
characteristics  of  the  human  mind — its  curiosity,  its  arrogance, 
its  love  of  mystery. 

Magic,  in  its  perfect  and  uncorrupted  form,  claims  to  be  a 
practical,  intellectual,  highly  individualistic  science,  working 
towards  a  declared  end  :  that,  namely,  of  enlarging  the  sphere 
on  which  the  will  of  man  can  work  and  obtaining  experimental 
knowledge  of  planes  of  being  usually  regarded  as  transcen- 


MYSTICISM  AND  MAGIC  183 

dental  It  is  the  last  descendant  of  a  long  line  of  teaching — 
the  whole  teaching,  in  fact,  of  the  mysteries  of  Egypt  and 
Greece — which  aims  at  initiating  man  into  the  secrets  of 
knowledge,  and  aspires,  egoistically,  to  an  understanding  of 
things.  "  In  every  man,"  says  a  living  occultist,  "  there  are 
latent  faculties  by  means  of  which  he  can  acquire  for  himself 
knowledge  of  the  higher  worlds  ...  as  long  as  the  human 
race  has  existed  there  have  always  been  schools  in  which 
those  who  possessed  these  higher  faculties  gave  instruction 
to  those  who  were  in  search  of  them.  Such  are  called  the 
occult  schools,  and  the  instruction  which  is  imparted  therein 
is  called  esoteric  science  or  the  occult  teaching."  * 

These  schools,  at  least  as  they  exist  in  the  present  day, 
formulate  the  laws  which  govern  occult  phenomena  in  a  manner 
which  seems  distressingly  prosaic  to  the  romantic  inquirer ; 
borrowing  from  physics  and  psychology  theories  of  vibration, 
attraction,  mental  suggestion  and  subconscious  activity  which 
can  be  reapplied  for  their  own  purposes. 

According  to  its  modern  teachers,  magic  is  in  essence 
simply  an  extension  of  the  theory  and  practice  of  volition  < 
beyond  the  usual  limits.  The  will,  says  the  occultist,  is  king,  i 
not  only  of  the  House  of  Life,  but  of  the  universe  outside  the 
gates  of  sense.  It  is  the  key  to  "  man  limitless " ;  the  true 
"  ring  of  Gyges,"  which  can  control  the  forces  of  nature,  known 
and  unknown.  This  aspect  of  occult  philosophy  informs  much 
of  the  cheap  American  transcendentalism  which  is  so  lightly 
miscalled  mystical  by  its  teachers  and  converts ;  Menticulture, 
"  New "  or  "  Higher  Thought,"  and  the  scriptures  of  the  so- 
called  "  New  Consciousness."  The  ingenious  authors  of  "  Volo," 
"The  Will  to  be  Well,"  and  "Just  How  to  Wake  the  Solar - 
Plexus,"  the  seers  who  assure  their  eager  disciples  that  by 
"  Concentration "  they  may  acquire  not  only  health  but  also 
that  wealth  which  is  "  health  of  circumstance,"  are  no  mystics. 
They  are  magicians ;  and  teach,  though  they  know  it  not, 
little  else  but  the  cardinal  doctrines  of  Hermetic  science, 
omitting  only  their  picturesque  ceremonial  accompaniments.2 

1  Steiner,  "  The  Way  of  Initiation,"  p.  66. 

2  See  E.  Towne,  "Joy  Philosophy"  (1903)  and  "Just  How  to  Wake  the  Solar 
Plexus"  (1904);  R.  D.  Stocker,  "New  Thought  Manual"  (1906)  and  "Soul 
Culture"  (1905);  Floyd  Wilson,  "  Man  Limitless"  (1905).  But  the  literature  of 
these  sects  is  enormous. 


184  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

These  cardinal  doctrines,  in  fact,  have  varied  little  since 
their  first  appearance  early  in  the  world's  history:  though, 
like  the  doctrines  of  theology,  they  have  needed  re-statement 
from  time  to  time.  In  setting  them  out  for  the  enlightenment 
of  the  modern  reader,  I  shall  quote  largely  from  the  works  of 
F.liphas  L£vi ;  the  pseudonym  under  which  Alphonse  Louis 
Constant,  probably  the  sanest  and  certainly  the  most  readable 
occult  philosopher  of  the  nineteenth  century,  offered  his  con- 
clusions to  the  world. 

Eliphas  Levi  found  in  the  old  magical  tradition,  rehandled 
in  the  terms  of  contemporary  thought,  an  adequate  theory  of 
the  universe  and  rule  of  practical  life.  In  his  writings,  there- 
fore, we  see  the  Hermetic  science  under  its  most  favourable 
aspect — Opus  hierarchicum  et  Catholicum,  as  he  proudly  calls  it 
upon  the  title-page  of  his  great  "  Histoire  de  la  Magie."  It  is 
the  one  object  of  his  later  works  to  exhibit — indeed  to  exag- 
gerate— its  connection  with  true  mysticism ;  to  show  that  it  is 
"  Le  Clef  des  Grands  Mysteres  "  which  will  open  the  gate  of 
that  Secret  Garden  on  which  the  desire  of  the  soul  is  ever  set. 
The  spectacle  which  he  presents  is  that  of  a  man  of  eager 
desires  and  natural  intuitions,  set,  is  is  true,  upon  the  quest 
of  reality ;  but  pursuing  that  quest  by  strange  and  twisted 
paths.  It  remains  for  us  to  examine  with  his  help  the  nature 
of  these  paths  and  the  prospects  which  they  offer  to  other 
wayfarers. 

The  tradition  of  magic,  like  most  other  ways  of  escape 
which  man  has  offered  to  his  own  soul,  originated  in  the  East. 
It  was  formulated,  developed,  and  preserved  by  the  religion  of 
Egypt.  It  made  an  early  appearance  in  that  of  Greece.  It  has 
its  legendary  grand  master  in  Hermes  Trismegistus,  who  gave 
to  it  its  official  name  of  Hermetic  Science,  and  stands  towards 
the  magicians  in  much  the  same  position  as  Moses  occupied  in 
the  tradition  of  the  Jews.  Fragmentary  writings  attributed  to 
this  personage  and  contained  in  the  so-called  Hermetic  books 
are  the  primitive  scriptures  of  occultism  :  and  the  probably 
spurious  Table  of  Emerald  which  is  said  to  have  been  dis- 
covered in  his  tomb,  ranks  as  the  magician's  Table  of  Stone. 
In  Gnosticism,  in  the  superb  allegories  of  the  Kabalah,  in  much 
of  the  ceremonial  of  the  Christian  Church — finally,  in  secret 
associations  which  still  exist  in  England,  France,  and  Germany 


MYSTICISM  AND  MAGIC  185 

— all  that  is  best  and  truest  in  the  "  secret  wisdom  "  of  magical 
tradition  has  wandered  down  the  centuries.  Its  baser  offshoots, 
by  which  it  is  unfortunately  represented  to  the  crowd,  are  but 
too  well  known  and  need  not  be  particularized. 

Like  the  world  which  it  professes  to  interpret,  magic  has  a 
body  and  a  soul :  an  outward  vesture  of  words  and  ceremonies 
and  an  inner  doctrine.  The  outward  vesture,  which  is  all  that 
the  uninitiated  are  permitted  to  perceive,  is  hardly  attractive*  to 
the  judicious  eye  of  common  sense.  It  consists  of  a  series  of 
confusing  and  often  ridiculous  symbolic  veils :  of  strange  words 
and  numbers,  grotesque  laws  and  ritual  acts,  personifications 
and  mystifications,  wrapped  one  about  the  other  as  if  the 
bewilderment  of  impatient  investigators  were  its  one  design. 
The  outward  vestures  of  our  religious,  political,  and  social 
systems — which  would  probably  appear  equally  irrational  to  a 
wholly  ignorant  yet  critical  observer — offer  an  instructive  parallel 
to  this  aspect  of  occult  philosophy. 

Stripped  of  these  archaic  formulae,  symbols,  mystery-mon- 
gerings,  and  other  adventitious  trappings,  magic  is  found  to 
rest  upon  three  fundamental  axioms  ;  none  of  which  can  be 
dismissed  as  ridiculous  by  those  who  listen  respectfully  to  the 
amazing  and  ever-shifting  hypotheses  of  fashionable  psychology 
and  physics. 

S  (i)  The  first  of  these  axioms  affirms  the  existence  of  an 
imponderable  "  medium "  or  "  universal  agent,"  which  is  de- 
scribed as  beyond  the  plane  of  our  normal  sensual  perceptions 
yet  interpenetrating  and  binding  up  the  material  world.  This 
agent,  which  is  not  luminous  and  has  nothing  to  do  with  the 
stars,  is  known  to  the  occultists  by  the  unfortunate  name  of 
"Astral  Light":  a  term,  originally  borrowed  from  the  Martinists 
by  Eliphas  LeVi,  to  which  the  religious  rummage-sales  of  current 
theosophy  have  since  given  a  familiarity  which  treads  upon  the 
margin  of  contempt.  To  live  in  conscious  communication  with 
the  "  Astral  Light "  is  to  live  upon  the  "  Astral  Plane,"  or  in  the 
Astral  World :  to  have  risen,  that  is  to  say,  to  a  new  level  of 
consciousness.  The  education  of  the  occultist  is  wholly  directed 
towards  this  end. 

This  doctrine  of  the  Astral  Plane,  like  most  of  our  other 
diagrams  of  the  transcendent,  possesses  not  only  a  respectable 
ancestry,  but  also  many  prosperous  relations  in  the  world  of 


186  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

philosophic  thought.  Traces  of  it  may  even  be  detected  under 
veils  in  the  more  recent  speculations  of  orthodox  physics.  It  is 
really  identical  with  the  "  Archetypal  World  "  or  Yesod  of  the 
Kabalah — the  "  Perfect  Land  "  of  old  Egyptian  religion — in 
which  exist  the  true  or  spirit  forms  of  all  created  things. 
Perhaps  it  is  connected  with  the  "real  world"  described  by 
such  visionaries  as  Boehme  and  Blake.  A  persistent  tradition 
as  to  the  existence  of  such  a  plane  of  being  or  of  consciousness 
is  found  all  over  the  world  :  in  Indian,  Greek,  Egyptian,  Celtic, 
and  Jewish  thought.  "Above  this  visible  nature  there  exists 
another,  unseen  and  eternal,  which,  when  all  things  created 
perish,  does  not  perish,"  says  the  Bhagavad  Gita.  According  to 
the  Kabalists  it  is  "  the  seat  of  life  and  vitality,  and  the 
nourishment  of  all  the  world."  x  Vitalism  might  accept  it  as 
one  of  those  aspects  of  the  universe  which  can  be  perceived  by 
a  more  extended  rhythm  than  that  of  normal  consciousness. 
Various  aspects  of  it  have  been  identified  with  the  "Burning 
Body  of  the  Holy  Ghost "  of  Christian  Gnosticism  and  with  the 
Odic  force  of  the  old-fashioned  spiritualists. 

According  to  the  doctrine  of  magic  the  Astral  Plane 
constitutes  the  "  Cosmic  Memory"  where  the  images  of  all 
beings  and  events  are  preserved,  as  they  are  preserved  in  the 
memory  of  man. 


The  high  that  proved  too  high,  the  heroic  for  earth  too  hard, 
The  passion  that  left  the  ground  to  lose  itself  in  the  sky" — 


all  are  living  in  the  Astral  World.  There  too  the  concepts  of 
future  creation  are  present  in  their  completeness  in  the  Eternal 
Now,  before  being  brought  to  birth  in  the  material  sphere.  On 
this  theory  prophecy,  and  also  clairvoyance — one  of  the  great 
objects  of  occult  education — consists  in  opening  the  eyes  of  the 
mind  upon  this  timeless  Astral  World:  and  spiritualists,  evoking 
the  phantoms  of  the  dead,  merely  call  them  up  from  the 
recesses  of  universal  instead  of  individual  remembrance.  The 
reader  who  feels  his  brain  to  be  whirling  amidst  this  medley^ 
of  solemn  statement  and  unproven  fairy  tale  must  remember 
that  at  best  the  dogmatic  part  of  the  occult  tradition  can  only 

x  A.  E.  Waite,  "  Doctrine  and  Literature  of  the  Kabalah,"  p.  48. 


MYSTICISM  AND  MAGIC  187 

represent  the  attempt  of  an  extended  consciousness  to  find  an 
explanation  of  its  own  experiences.  / 

Further,  in  its  strictly  undenominational  form,  the  Astral 
Light  is  first  cousin  to  the  intangible  ether  beloved  of  Sir  Oliver 
Lodge  and  other  transcendental  physicists.  In  it  our  whole 
selves — not  merely  our  sentient  selves — are  bathed  ;  and  here 
again  we  are  reminded  of  Vitalism,  with  its  unresting  River  of 
Life.  Hence  in  occult  language  the  all-penetrating  Astral  is  a 
"  universal  agent "  :  the  possible  vehicle  of  hypnotism,  telepathy, 
clairvoyance,  and  all  those  supernormal  phenomena  which 
science  has  taken  out  of  the  hands  of  the  occultists  and  re- 
named metapsychic.  This  hypothesis  also  accounts  for  the 
confusing  fact  of  an  initial  similarity  of  experience  in  many 
of  the  proceedings  of  mystic  and  occultist.  Both  must  pass 
through  the  plane  of  consciousness  which  the  concept  of  the 
"  Astral  "  represents,  because  this  plane  of  perception  is  the  one 
which  lies  "  next  beyond  "  our  normal  life.  The  transcendental 
faculties,  once  they  are  freed,  become  aware  of  this  world  :  only, 
in  the  case  of  the  mystic,  to  pass  through  it  as  quickly  as  they 
can.  The  occultist,  on  the  contrary,  is  willing  to  rest  in  the 
"Astral"  and  develop  his  perceptions  of  this  aspect  of  the  world. 
It  is  the  medium  in  which  he  works. 

From  the  earliest  times,  occult  philosophy  has  proclaimed  its 
knowledge  of  this  medium  :  always  describing  its  existence  as  a 
scientific  fact,  outside  the  range  of  our  normal  senses,  but  sus- 
ceptible of  verification  by  the  trained  powers  of  the  initiate. 
The  possessor  of  such  trained  powers,  not  the  wizard  or  the 
fortune-teller,  is  to  be  regarded  as  the  true  magician :  and  it  is 
the  first  object  of  occult  education,  or  initiation,  to  actualize  this 
supersensual  plane  of  experience,  to  give  the  student  the  power 
of  entering  into  conscious  communion  with  it,  and  teach  him  to 
impose  upon  its  forces  the  directive  force  of  his  own  will,  as 
easily  as  he  imposes  that  will  upon  the  "  material "  things  of 
sense.1 

(2)  This  brings  us  to  the  second  axiom  of  magic,  which  also 
has  a  curiously  modern  air :  for  it  postulates  simply  the  limit- 
less power  of  the  disciplined  human  will.  This  dogma  has  been 
"  taken  over "  without  acknowledgment  from  occult  philosophy 

1  For  a  more  detailed  discussion  of  this  subject  the  reader  is  referred  to  Steiner's 
exceedingly  curious  and  interesting  little  book,  "  The  Way  of  Initiation." 


188  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

to  become  the  trump  card  of  menticulture,  "  Christian  Science," 
and  "  New  Thought."  The  preachers  of  "  Joy  Philosophy,"  and 
other  dilute  forms  of  mental  discipline,  are  the  true  priests  of 
transcendental  magic  in  the  modern  world.1 

The  first  lesson  of  the  would-be  magus  is  self-mastery.  "  By 
means  of  persevering  and  gradual  athletics,"  says  Eliphas  Levi, 
"  the  powers  of  the  body  can  be  developed  to  an  amazing  extent. 
It  is  the  same  with  the  powers  of  the  soul.  Would  you  govern 
yourself  and  others  ?  Learn  how  to  will.  How  may  one  learn 
how  to  will  ?  This  is  the  first  secret  of  magical  initiation  ;  and 
it  was  to  make  the  foundations  of  this  secret  thoroughly  under- 
stood that  the  antique  keepers  of  the  mysteries  surrounded  the 
approach  to  the  sanctuary  with  so  many  terrors  and  illusions. 
They  did  not  believe  in  a  will  until  it  had  given  its  proofs ;  and 
they  were  right.  Strength  cannot  prove  itself  except  by  con- 
quest. Idleness  and  negligence  are  the  enemies  of  the  will ;  and 
this  is  the  reason  why  all  religions  have  multiplied  their  practices 
and  made  their  cults  difficult  and  minute.  The  more  trouble 
one  gives  oneself  for  an  idea,  the  more  power  one  acquires  in 
regard  to  that  idea.  .  .  .  Hence  the  power  of  religions  resides 
entirely  in  the  inflexible  will  of  those  who  practise  them." 2 

In  its  essence,  then,  magical  initiation  is  a  traditional  form 
of  mental  discipline,  strengthening  and  focussing  the  will.  By 
it,  some  of  those  powers  of  apprehension  which  lie  below  the 
threshold  of  ordinary  consciousness  are  liberated,  and  enabled 
to  report  their  discoveries  to  the  active  and  sentient  mind.  This 
discipline,  like  that  of  the  religious  life,  consists  partly  in  physical 
austerities  and  in  a  deliberate  divorce  from  the  world,  partly  in 
the  cultivation  of  will-power :  but  largely  in  a  yielding  of  the 
mind  to  the  influence  of  suggestions  which  have  been  selected 
and  accumulated  in  the  course  of  ages  because  of  their  power 
over  that  imagination  which  Eliphas  LeVi  calls  "  The  eye  of  the 
soul."  There  is  nothing  supernatural  about  it.  Like  the  more 
arduous,  more  disinterested  self-training  of  the  mystic,  it  is 
character-building  with  an  object,  conducted  upon   an   heroic 

1  Compare  the  following :  "  Imagine  that  all  the  world  and  the  starry  hosts  are 
waiting,  alert  and  with  shining  eyes,  to  do  your  bidding.  Imagine  that  you  are  to 
touch  the  button  now,  and  instantly  they  will  spring  to  do  the  rest.  The  instant  you 
say,  "  I  can  and  I  will "  the  entire  powers  of  the  universe  are  to  be  set  in  motion" 
(E.  Towne,  "Joy  Philosophy,"  p.  52). 

2  "  Rituel  de  la  Haute  Magie,"  pp.  35.  36. 


MYSTICISM  AND  MAGIC  189 

scale.  In  magic  the  "  will  to  know  "  is  the  centre  round  which 
the  personality  is  rearranged.  As  in  mysticism,  subconscious 
factors  are  dragged  from  the  hiddenness  to  form  part  of  that 
personality.  The  uprushes  of  thought,  the  abrupt  intuitions 
which  reach  us  from  the  subliminal  region,  are  developed, 
ordered,  and  controlled  by  rhythms  and  symbols  which  have 
become  traditional  because  the  experience  of  centuries  has 
proved,  though  it  cannot  explain,  their  efficacy. 

"The  fundamental  principle,"  says  A.  E.  Waite,  speaking  of 
occult  evocations,  "  was  in  the  exercise  of  a  certain  occult  force 
resident  in  the  magus  and  strenuously  exerted  for  the  establish- 
ment of  such  a  correspondence  between  two  planes  of  nature  as 
would  effect  his  desired  end.  This  exertion  was  termed  the 
evocation,  conjuration,  or  calling  of  the  spirit,  but  that  which  in 
reality  was  raised  was  the  energy  of  the  inner  man  ;  tremendously 
developed  and  exalted  by  combined  will  and  aspiration,  this 
energy  germinated  by  sheer  force  a  new  intellectual  faculty  of 
sensible  psychological  perception.  To  assist  and  stimulate  this 
energy  into  the  most  powerful  possible  operation,  artificial 
means  were  almost  invariably  used.  .  .  .  The  synthesis  of  these 
methods  and  processes  was  called  Ceremonial  Magic,  which  in 
effect  was  a  tremendous  forcing-house  of  the  latent  faculties  of 
man's  spiritual  nature." x 

This  is  the  psychological  explanation  of  those  apparently 
absurd  rituals  of  preparation,  doctrines  of  signs  and  numbers, 
pentacles,  charms,  angelical  names,  the  "power  of  the  word" 
and  all  the  rest,  which  go  to  make  up  ceremonial  magic.  The 
power  of  such  artifices  is  known  amongst  the  Indian  mystics, 
who,  recognizing  in  the  Mantra,  or  occult  and  rhythmic  formula, 
consciously  held  and  repeated,  an  invaluable  help  to  the  attain- 
ment of  the  true  ecstatic  states,  are  not  ashamed  to  borrow  them 
from  the  magicians.  So,  too,  the  modern  American  schools  of 
mental  healing  and  New  Thought  recommend  concentration 
upon  a  carefully  selected  word  as  the  starting-point  of  efficacious 
meditation.  This  fact  of  the  enormous  psychical  effect  of 
certain  verbal  combinations,  when  allowed  to  dominate  the  field 
of  consciousness,  is  the  practical  reason  of  that  need  of  a  formal 
liturgy  which  is  felt  by  nearly  every  great  religion  :  for  religion, 
on  its  ceremonial  side,  is  always  largely  magical.     It,  too,  seeks 

x  "The  Occult  Sciences,"  p.  14. 


190  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

by  artificial  means  to  stimulate  latent  energies.  The  true  magic 
"  word "  or  spell  is  untranslatable ;  because  its  power  resides 
only  partially  in  that  outward  sense  which  is  apprehended  by 
the  reason,  but  chiefly  in  the  rhythm,  which  is  addressed  to  the 
subliminal  mind.  Did  the  Catholic  Church  choose  to  acknow- 
ledge a  law  long  known  to  the  adepts  of  magic,  she  has  here  an 
explanation  of  that  instinct  which  has  caused  her  to  cling  so 
strenuously  to  a  Latin  liturgy,  much  of  whose  amazing  and 
truly  magic  power  would  evaporate  were  it  translated  into  the 
vulgar  tongue.  Symbols,  religious  and  other,  and  symbolic  acts 
which  appear  meaningless  when  judged  by  the  intellect  alone, 
perform  a  similar  office.  They  express  the  deep-seated  instinct 
of  the  human  mind  that  it  must  have  a  focus  on  which  to  con- 
centrate its  volitional  powers,  if  those  powers  are  to  be  brought 
to  their  highest  state  of  efficiency.  The  nature  of  the  focus 
matters  little :  its  office  matters  much.  I  give  a  short  extract 
from  the  "Rituel  de  la  Haute  Magie,"  which  sufficiently  exhibits 
Levi's  opinion  on  this  subject.  Many  of  its  phrases  might  be 
fresh  from  the  pen  of  the  newest  American  psychologist. 

"...  All  these  figures,  and  acts  analogous  to  them,  all 
these  dispositions  of  numbers  and  of  characters  [i.e.  sacred 
words,  charms,  pentacles,  &c]  are,  as  we  have  said,  but  instru- 
ments for  the  education  of  the  will,  of  which  they  fix  and 
determine  the  habits.  They  serve  also  to  concentrate  in  action 
all  the  powers  of  the  human  soul,  and  to  strengthen  the  creative 
power  of  the  imagination.  ...  A  practice,  even  though  it  be 
superstitious  and  foolish,  may  be  efficacious  because  it  is  a 
realization  of  the  will.  .  .  .  We  laugh  at  the  poor  woman  who 
denies  herself  a  ha'porth  of  milk  in  the  morning,  that  she  may 
take  a  little  candle  to  burn  upon  the  magic  triangle  in  some 
chapel.  But  those  who  laugh  are  ignorant,  and  the  poor  woman 
does  not  pay  too  dearly  for  the  courage  and  resignation  which 
she  thus  obtains.  The  wise  pass  proudly  by  shrugging  their 
shoulders.  They  attack  superstition  with  a  clamour  which 
shakes  the  world  :  and  what  happens  ?  The  houses  which  they 
build  fall  down,  and  their  debris  are  re-sold  to  the  providers  and 
purchasers  of  little  candles ;  who  willingly  allow  it  to  be  said 
that  their  power  is  at  an  end,  since  they  know  that  their  reign 
is  eternal."  x 

1  "  Rituel  de  la  Haute  Magie,"  p.  71. 


MYSTICISM  AND  MAGIC  191 

Magic  symbols,  therefore,  from  penny  candles  to  Solomon's 
seal,  fall,  in  modern  technical  language,  into  two  classes.  The 
first  contains  instruments  of  self-suggestion,  exaltation,  and  will 
direction.  To  this  belong  all  spells,  charms,  rituals,  perfumes  : 
from  the  magician's  vervain  wreath  to  the  "  Youth !  Health  ! 
Strength!"  which  the  student  of  New  Thought  repeats  when 
she  is  brushing  her  hair  in  the  morning.  The  second  class 
contains  autoscopes  :  i.e.,  material  objects  which  focus  and  express 
the  subconscious  perceptions  of  the  operator.  The  dowser's 
divining  rod,  fortune-teller's  cards,  and  crystal-gazer's  ball,  are 
characteristic  examples.  Both  kinds  are  rendered  necessary 
rather  by  the  disabilities  of  the  human  than  by  the  peculiarities 
of  the  superhuman  plane :  and  the  great  adept,  like  the  great 
saint,  may  attain  heights  at  which  he  can  entirely  dispense  with 
these  "  outward  and  visible  signs."  "  Ceremonies  being,  as  we 
have  said,  artificial  methods  of  creating  certain  habits  of  the  will, 
they  cease  to  be  necessary  when  these  habits  have  become  fixed." * 
This  is  a  point  at  which  the  history  of  magic  lights  up  for  us 
certain  peculiarities  in  the  history  of  mysticism. 

These  facts,  now  commonplaces  of  psychology,  have  been 
known  and  used  by  students  of  magic  for  countless  generations. 
Those  who  decry  the  philosophy  because  of  the  apparent 
absurdity  of  its  symbols  and  ceremonies  should  remember  that 
the  embraces,  gestures,  grimaces,  and  other  ritual  acts  by  which 
we  all  concentrate,  liberate,  or  express  love,  wrath,  or  enthusiasm, 
will  ill  endure  the  cold  revealing  light  of  a  strictly  rational 
inquiry. 

(3)  To  the  two  dogmas  of  the  "  Astral  Light "  or  universal 
agent  and  the  "  power  of  the  will "  there  is  to  be  added  a  third  : 
the  doctrine  of  Analogy,  or  implicit  correspondence  between 
appearance  and  reality,  the  microcosm  of  man  and  the  macrocosm 
of  the  universe,  the  seen  and  the  unseen  worlds.  In  this,  oc- 
cultism finds  the  basis  of  all  its  transcendental  speculations. 
Quod  superius  sicut  quod  inferius — the  first  words  of  that 
Emerald  Table  which  was  once  attributed  to  Hermes  Tris- 
megistus  himself — is  an  axiom  which  must  be  agreeable  to  all 
Platonists.  It  plays  an  enormous  part  in  the  theory  of 
mysticism,  which  has  always  assumed  that  the  path  of  the 
individual  soul  towards  loving  union  with  the  Absolute  is 
1  "  Rituel  de  la  Haute  Magie,"  p.  139. 


192  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

strictly  analogous  with  the  path  on  which  the  universe  moves 
to  its  consummation  in  God. 

The  notion  of  analogy  ultimately  determines  the  religious 
concepts  of  every  race,  and  resembles  the  verities  of  faith  in  the 
breadth  of  its  application  :  for  it  embraces  alike  the  appearances 
of  the  visible  world — which  thus  become  the  mirrors  of  the 
invisible — the  symbols  of  religion,  the  tiresome  arguments  of 
Butler's  "  Analogy,"  the  sublime  allegories  of  the  Kabalah  and 
the  spiritual  alchemists,  and  that  childish  "  doctrine  of  signa- 
tures" on  which  much  of  mediaeval  science  was  built. 

"  Analogy,"  says  Levi,1  "  is  the  last  word  of  science  and  the 
first  word  of  faith  .  .  .  the  sole  possible  mediator  between  the 
visible  and  the  invisible,  between  the  finite  and  the  infinite." 
Here  Magic  clearly  defines  her  own  limitations ;  stepping 
incautiously  from  the  useful  to  the  universal,  and  laying  down 
a  doctrine  which  no  mystic  could  accept — which,  carried  to 
its  logical  conclusion,  would  turn  the  adventure  of  the  infinite 
into  a  guessing  game. 

"  Analogy,"  he  says  again — and  this  time,  perhaps,  with  more 
propriety — "  is  the  key  of  all  the  secrets  of  nature  :  .  .  .  this  is 
why  religions  seem  to  be  written  in  the  heavens  and  in  all  nature  : 
this  must  be  so,  for  the  work  of  God  is  the  book  of  God,  and  in 
that  which  he  writes  one  should  see  the  expression  of  his  thought 
and  consequently  of  his  Being,  since  we  conceive  of  him  only  as 
Supreme  Thought."2  Here  we  have  a  hint  of  that  idealistic 
element  which  is  implicit  in  occultism :  as  even  the  wildest 
heresies  retain  traces  of  the  truths  which  they  pervert. 

The  argument  by  analogy  is  carried  by  the  occultists  to 
lengths  which  can  hardly  be  set  down  in  this  place.  Armed 
with  this  torch,  they  explore  the  darkest,  most  terrible  mysteries 
of  life :  and  do  not  hesitate  to  cast  the  grotesque  shadows  of 
these  mysteries  upon  the  unseen  world.  The  principle  of  cor- 
respondence is  no  doubt  a  sound  one,  so  long  as  it  works 
within  reasonable  limits.  It  was  admitted  into  the  system  of 
the  Kabalah,  though  that  astute  philosophy  was  far  from  giving 
to  it  the  importance  which  it  assumes  in  Hermetic  science.  It 
has  been  accepted  eagerly  by  many  of  the  mystics.  Boehme 
and  Swedenborg  gladly  availed  themselves  of  its  method  in 
presenting  their  intuitions  to  the  world.     It  is  implicitly  ac- 

1  "  Dogme  de  la  Haute  Magie,"  p.  361  et  seq.  a  /did.,  p.  363. 


MYSTICISM  AND  MAGIC  193 

knowledged  by  thinkers  of  innumerable  other  schools :  its 
influence  permeates  the  best  periods  of  literature.  Sir  Thomas 
Browne  spoke  for  more  than  himself  when  he  said,  in  a  well- 
known  passage  of  the  "  Religio  Medici  "  :  "  The  severe  schools 
shall  never  laugh  me  out  of  the  philosophy  of  Hermes  [i.e., 
Trismegistus]  that  this  visible  world  is  but  a  picture  of  the 
invisible,  wherein,  as  in  a  portrait,  things  are  not  truly  but  in 
equivocal  shapes,  and  as  they  counterfeit  some  real  substance 
in  that  invisible  framework."  Such  a  sense  of  analogy,  what- 
ever the  "  severe  schools  "  may  say,  is  the  foundation  of  every 
perfect  work  of  art.  "  Intuitive  perception  of  the  hidden 
analogies  of  things,"  says  Hazlitt  in  "  English  Novelists,"  "  or, 
as  it  may  be  called,  his  instinct  of  the  imagination,  is  perhaps 
what  stamps  the  character  of  genius  on  the  productions  of  art 
more  than  any  other  circumstance." 

The  central  doctrine  of  magic  may  now  be  summed  up 
thus  : — 

(i)  That  a  supersensible  and  real  "cosmic  medium"  exists, 
which  interpenetrates,  influences,  and  supports  the  tangible  and 
apparent  world,  and  is  amenable  to  the  categories  both  of 
philosophy  and  of  physics. 

(2)  That  there  is  an  established  analogy  and  equilibrium 
between  the  real  and  unseen  world,  and  the  illusory  manifesta- 
tions which  we  call  the  world  of  sense. 

(3)  That  this  analogy  may  be  discerned,  and  this  equilibrium 
controlled,  by  the  disciplined  will  of  man,  which  thus  becomes 
master  of  itself  and  of  fate. 

We  must  now  examine  in  more  detail  the  third  of  these 
propositions — that  which  ascribes  abnormal  powers  to  the  edu- 
cated and  disciplined  will :  for  this  assumption  lies  at  the  root 
of  all  magical  practices,  alike  of  the  oldest  and  the  newest 
schools.  "  Magical  operations,"  says  Eliphas  Levi,  "  are  the 
exercise  of  a  power  which  is  natural,  but  superior  to  the 
ordinary  powers  of  nature.  They  are  the  result  of  a  science, 
and  of  habits,  which  exalt  the  human  will  above  its  usual 
limits."1  This  power  of  the  will  is  daily  gaining  recognition 
in  the  camps  of  science,  as  the  chief  factor  in  religion  and  in 
therapeutics — the  healing  of  the  body  and  the  healing  of  the  soul 
— for  our  most  advanced  theories  on  these  subjects  are  little  more 

1  "  Rituel  de  la  Haute  Magie,"  p.  33. 
o 


194  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

than  the  old  \vine  of  magic  in  new  bottles.  The  accredited 
psychological  theory  of  religious  "experience,"  for  instance, 
rests  upon  the  hypothesis  that  by  self-suggestion,  by  a 
deliberate  cultivation  of  the  "  will-to-believe,"  and  similar 
means,  it  is  possible  to  shift  the  threshold  of  consciousness, 
and  to  exhibit  those  supernormal  perceptions  which  are 
variously  attributed  to  inspiration  and  to  disease.  This  is 
exactly  what  ceremonial  magic  professes,  in  milder  and  more 
picturesque  language,  to  do  for  her  initiates :  and  all  such 
deliberate  processes  of  conversion  are,  on  their  psychological 
side,  the  results  of  an  involuntary  obedience  to  the  laws  of 
Hermetic  science.  The  ancient  occultists  owed  much  of  their 
power,  and  also  of  their  evil  reputation,  to  the  fact  that  they 
\were  psychologists  before  their  time. 

Recipes  for  the  alteration  and  exaltation  of  personality  and 
for  the  enhancement  of  will-power,  the  artificial  production  of 
photisms,  automatisms,  and  ecstasy,  with  the  opening  up  of  the 
subliminal  field  which  accompanies  these  phenomena — con- 
cealed from  the  profane  by  a  mass  of  confusing  allegories  and 
verbiage — form  the  backbone  of  all  genuine  occult  rituals. 
Their  authors  were  perfectly  aware  that  ceremonial  magic  has 
no  objective  importance,  but  depends  solely  on  its  effect  upon 
the  operator's  mind.  In  order  that  this  effect  might  be 
enhanced,  it  was  given  an  atmosphere  of  sanctity  and  mystery ; 
its  rules  were  strict,  its  higher  rites  difficult  of  attainment. 
It  constituted  at  once  a  test  of  the  student's  earnestness  and 
a  veil  which  guarded  the  sanctuary  from  the  profane.  The 
long  and  difficult  preparations,  majestic  phrases,  and  strange 
ceremonies  of  an  evocation  had  power,  not  over  the  spirit  of 
the  dead,  but  over  the  consciousness  of  the  living,  who  was  thus 
caught  up  from  the  world  of  sense  to  a  new  plane  of  perception. 
For  him,  not  for  unknown  Powers,  were  these  splendours  and 
these  arts  displayed.  The  rationale  of  the  evocation  of  an 
angel  consists,  not  in  summoning  spirits  from  afar,  but  in 
opening  the  operator's  eyes  upon  angels  who  are  always 
there. 

"When  the  spiritual  exaltation  of  the  Magus  has  been 
accomplished  by  .  .  .  various  ceremonial  practices,  the  spirit  is, 
in  magical  language,  compelled  to  appear.  That  is  to  say,  the 
operator  has   passed   into  a   condition  when  it  would   be   as 


MYSTICISM  AND  MAGIC  195 

impossible  for  a  spirit  to  remain  invisible  to  him  as  for  an 
ordinary  mortal  to  conceal  itself  from  our  common  sight,  with- 
out any  intervening  shelter,  in  the  blaze  of  a  noonday  sun."1 
Thus  the  whole  education  of  the  genuine  occult  student  tends 
to  awaken  in  him  a  new  view  and  a  new  attitude.  It  adjusts 
the  machinery  of  his  cinematograph  to  the  registering  of  new 
intervals  in  the  stream  of  things,  which  passed  it  by  before  ; 
and  thus  introduces  new  elements  into  that  picture  by  which 
ordinary  men  are  content  to  know  and  judge  the — or  rather 
their — universe. 

"  In  the  end,"  says  Steiner,  with  the  usual  exaggeration  of 
the  professional  occultist,  "it  all  resolves  itself  into  the  fact 
that  man,  ordinarily,  carries  body,  soul,  and  spirit  about  with 
him,  yet  is  conscious  only  of  the  body,  not  of  the  soul  and 
spirit ;  and  that  the  student  attains  to  a  similar  consciousness 
of  soul  and  spirit  also."2 

So  much  for  the  principles  which  govern  occult  education. 
Magic  therapeutics,  or  as  it  is  now  called,  "  mental  healing,"  is 
but  the  application  of  these  principles  upon  another  plane.  It 
results,  first,  from  a  view  of  humanity  which  sees  a  difference 
only  of  degree  between  diseases  of  body  and  of  soul,  and  can 
state  seriously  and  in  good  faith  that  rt  moral  maladies  are  more 
contagious  than  physical,  and  there  are  some  triumphs  of 
infatuation  and  fashion  which  are  comparable  to  leprosy  or 
cholera."  3  Secondly,  it  is  worked  by  that  enhancement  of  will 
power,  that  ability  to  alter  and  control  weaker  forms  of  life, 
which  we  have  seen  to  be  the  reward  of  the  occult  discipline. 
"  All  the  power  of  the  occult  healer  lies  in  his  conscious  will  and 
all  his  art  consists  in  producing  faith  in  the  patient."  4 

This  simple  truth  was  in  the  possession  of  the  magi  at  a  time 
when  Church  and  State  saw  no  third  course  between  the  burning 
or  beatification  of  its  practitioners.  Now,  under  the  polite  names 
of  mental  hygiene,  suggestion,  and  therapeutics,  it  is  steadily 
advancing  to  the  front  rank  of  medical  shibboleths.  Yet  it  is 
still  the  same  "magic  art"  which  has  been  employed  for 
centuries,  with  varying  ritual  accompaniments,  by  the  adepts 

x  A.  E.  Waite,  "The  Occult  Sciences,"  p.  32. 

2  "  The  Way  of  Initiation,"  p.  142. 

3  M  Dogme  de  la  Haute  Magie,"  p.  129. 
*  "RitueV'p.  312. 


196  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

of  occult  science.  The  methods  of  Brother  Hilarian  Tissot,  who 
is  described  as  curing  lunacy  and  crime  by  "the  unconscious 
use  of  the  magnetism  of  Paracelsus,"  who  attributed  his  cases 
"  either  to  disorder  of  the  will  or  to  the  perverse  influence  of 
external  wills,"  and  would  "  regard  all  crimes  as  acts  of  madness 
and  treat  the  wicked  as  diseased,"  J  anticipated  the  discoveries 
of  Charcot  and  Janet. 

But  in  spite  of  the  consistent  employment  by  all  the  great 
adepts  of  their  "  occult "  or  supernormal  power  in  the  healing 
and  the  prevention  of  disease,  on  its  philosophic  side  magic, 
like  Christianity,  combines  a  practical  policy  of  pity  for  the 
maimed,  halt,  and  blind,  with  a  creed  of  suffering  and  renuncia- 
tion. ''Here  it  joins  hands  with  mysticism  and  proclaims  its 
belief  in  pain  as  the  schoolmaster  of  every  spirit  which  desires 
to  transcend  the  life  of  sense.  Eliphas  LeVi,  whilst  advising  the 
initiate  whose  conscious  will  has  reached  its  full  strength  to 
employ  his  powers  in  the  alleviation  of  pain  and  prolongation 
of  life,  laughs  at  the  student  who  seeks  in  magic  a  method  of 
escaping  suffering  or  of  satisfying  his  own  selfish  desires.  None, 
he  says,  knows  better  than  the  true  magician  that  suffering  is  of 
the  essence  of  the  world  plan.  Only  those  who  face  it  truly 
live.  "  Alas  for  the  man  who  will  not  suffer !  He  will  be 
crushed  by  griefs."2  Again — perhaps  his  finest  utterance — 
?  To  learn  to  suffer  and  to  learn  to  die ;  this  is  the  gymnastic  of 
Eternity,  the  noviciate  of  immortal  life."  3 

Here,  then,  is  the  pure  theory  of  magic.  It  is  seen  at  its 
best  in  Eliphas  Levi's  works  ;  because  he  was,  in  some  respects, 
greater  than  the  system  which  he  preached.  Towards  the  close 
of  his  life  the  defective  and  limited  nature  of  that  system  became 
clear  to  him,  and  in  his  latest  writings  he  makes  no  secret  of 
this  fact.  The  chief  of  these  defects  is  the  peculiar  temper 
of  mind,  the  cold  intellectual  arrogance,  the  intensely  individual 
point  of  view  which  occult  studies  seem  to  induce  by  their 
conscious  quest  of  exclusive  power  and  knowledge,  their  implicit 
neglect  of  love.  At  bottom,  every  student  of  occultism  is 
striving  towards  a  point  at  which  he  may  be  able  to  "  touch  the 
button  "  and  rely  on  the  transcendental  world  "  springing  to  do 
the  rest."     In  this  hard-earned  acquirement  of  power  over  the 

«  "  Dogme,"  p.  134.  a  "  Histoire  de  la  Magie,"  p.  36. 

a  Ibid.,  p.  147. 


i 


MYSTICISM  AND  MAGIC  197 

Many,  he  tends  to  forget  the  One.  In  Levi's  words,  "  Too  deep 
a  study  of  the  mysteries  of  nature  may  estrange  from  God  the 
careless  investigator,  in  whom  mental  fatigue  paralyses  the 
ardours  of  the  heart."1  When  he  wrote  this  sentence  Levi 
stood,  as  the  greater  occultists  have  often  done,  at  the  very 
frontiers  of  mysticism.  The  best  of  the  Hermetic  philosophers, 
indeed,  are  hardly  ever  without  such  mystical  hankerings,  such 
flashes  of  illumination  ;  as  if  the  transcendental  powers  of  man, 
once  roused  from  sleep,  cannot  wholly  ignore  the  true  end  for 
which  they  were  made. 

In  Levi's  case,  as  is  well  known,  the  discord  between  the 
occult  and  mystical  ideals  was  resolved  by  that  return  to  the 
Catholic  Church  which  has  always  amazed  and  sometimes 
annoyed  his  commentators.  Characteristically,  he  "  read  into  " 
Catholicism  much  that  the  orthodox  would  hardly  allow ;  so 
that  it  became  for  him,  as  it  were,  a  romantic  gloss  on  the 
occult  tradition.  He  held  that  the  Christian  Church,  nursing 
mother  of  the  mystics,  was  also  the  heir  of  the  magi ;  and 
that  popular  piety  and  popular  magic  veiled  the  same  ineffable 
truths. 

He  had  more  justification  than  at  first  appears  probable  for 
this  apparently  wild  and  certainly  heretical  statement.  Religion, 
as  we  have  seen,  can  never  entirely  divorce  herself  from  magic  : 
for  her  rituals  and  sacraments,  whatever  explanations  of  their 
efficacy  may  be  offered  by  their  official  apologists,  have,  and 
must  have  if  they  are  to  be  successful  in  their  appeal  to  the 
mind,  a  magical  character.  All  persons  who  are  naturally 
drawn  towards  the  ceremonial  aspect  of  religion,  are  really 
devotees  of  the  higher  magic :  are  acknowledging  the  strange 
power  of  subtle  rhythms,  symbolic  words  and  movements,  over 
the  human  will.  An  "  impressive  service  "  conforms  exactly  to 
the  description  which  I  have  already  quoted  of  a  magical  rite  : 
it  is  "  a  tremendous  forcing-house  of  the  latent  faculties  of  man's 
spiritual  nature."  Sacraments,  too,  however  simple  their  begin- 
nings, always  tend,  as  they  evolve,  to  assume  upon  the 
phenomenal  plane  a  magical  aspect.  Those  who  have  observed 
with  understanding,  for  instance,  the  Roman  rite  of  baptism, 
with  its  spells  and  exorcisms,  its  truly  Hermetic  employment  of 
salt,  anointing  chrism  and  ceremonial  lights,  must  have  seen  in 
1  "Histoire  de  la  Magie,"  p.  514. 


198  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

it  a  ceremony  far  nearer  to  the  operations  of  white  magic  than 
to  the  simple  lustrations  practised  by  St.  John  the  Baptist. 

There  are  obvious  objections  to  the  full  working  out  of  this 
subject  in  a  book  which  is  addressed  to  readers  of  all  shades 
of  belief;  but  any  student  who  is  interested  in  this  branch 
of  religious  psychology  may  easily  discover  for  himself  the 
numerous  and  well-marked  occult  elements  in  the  liturgies  of 
the  Christian — or  indeed  of  any  other — Church.  There  are 
invocative  arrangements  of  the  Names  of  God  which  appear 
alike  in  grimoire  and  in  Missal ;  sacred  numbers,  ritual  actions, 
perfumes,  purifications,  words  of  power,  hold  as  important  a 
place  in  religion  as  in  magic.  In  certain  minor  observances, 
and  charm-like  prayers,  we  seem  to  stand  on  the  very  border- 
land between  magician  and  priest. 

It  is  inevitable  that  this  should  be  so.  The  business  of  the 
Church  is  to  appeal  to  the  whole  man,  as  she  finds  him  living  in 
the  world  of  sense.  She  would  hardly  be  adequate  to  this  task 
did  she  neglect  the  powerful  weapons  which  the  occult  tradition 
has  put  into  her  hand.  She  knows,  implicitly,  that  only  under 
those  ecstatic  conditions  which  it  is  the  very  object  of  magic  to 
induce,  can  normal  man  open  his  door  upon  the  Infinite,  and  let 
those  subconscious  powers  which  are  the  media  of  all  our 
spiritual  experiences  emerge  and  peep  for  a  moment  upon  the 
transcendental  world.  She,  who  takes  the  simplest  and  most 
common  gifts  of  nature  and  transmutes  them  into  heavenly  food, 
takes  also  every  discovery  which  the  self  has  made  concerning 
its  own  potentialities,  and  turns  them  to  her  own  high  ends. 
Founding  her  external  system  on  sacraments  and  symbols,  on 
rhythmic  invocations  and  ceremonial  acts  of  praise,  insisting  on 
the  power  of  the  pure  and  self-denying  will  and  the  "magic 
chain  "  of  congregational  worship,  she  does  but  join  hands  with 
those  Magi  whose  gold,  frankincense,  and  myrrh  were  the  first 
gifts  that  she  received. 

But  she  pays  for  this.  She  shares  the  limitations  of  the 
system  which  her  Catholic  nature  has  compelled  her  to  absorb. 
It  is  true,  of  course,  that  she  purges  it  of  all  its  baser  elements 
— its  arrogance,  its  curiosity — true  also  that  she  is  bound  to 
adopt  it  because  it  is  the  highest  common  measure  which  she 
can  apply  to  the  spirituality  of  that  world  to  which  she  is  sent. 
But  she  cannot — and  her  great  teachers  have  always  known 


MYSTICISM  AND  MAGIC  199 

that  she  cannot — extract  finality  from  a  method  which  does  not 
really  seek  after  ultimate  things.  This  method  may  and  does 
teach  men  goodness,  gives  them  happiness  and  health.  It  can 
even  induce  in  them  a  certain  exaltation  in  which  they  become 
aware,  at  any  rate  for  a  moment,  of  the  existence  of  a  transcen- 
dental world — a  stupendous  accomplishment.  But  it  will  never 
of  itself  make  them  citizens  of  that  world  :  give  to  them  the 
freedom  of  Reality. 

"  The  work  of  the  Church  in  the  world,"  says  Patmore,  "  is 
not  to  teach  the  mysteries  of  life,  so  much  as  to  persuade  the 
soul  to  that  arduous  degree  of  purity  at  which  God  Himself 
becomes  her  teacher.  The  work  of  the  Church  ends  when  the 
knowledge  of  God  begins."  x  Thus  in  spite  of  persistent  efforts 
to  the  contrary,  there  will  always  be  an  inner  and  an  outer 
Church  :  the  inner  Church  of  the  mystics  who  knowy  the  outer 
Church  which,  operating  beneficently  it  is  true,  but — roughly 
speaking — upon  the  magical  plane,  only  knows  about.  The 
New  Testament  is  not  without  its  reminders  that  this  was 
bound  to  be  the  case.2 

1  "The  Rod,  the  Root,  and  the  Flower,"  "  Knowledge  and  Science,"  xxii. 
a  See,  amongst  other  passages,  Matt.  xiii.  n,  I  Cor.  ii.  6,  and  iii.  I. 


V 


PART   TWO 

THE   MYSTIC    WAY 


"  As  the  Pilgrim  passes  while  the  Country  permanent  remains 
So  Men  pass  on;  but  the  States  remain  permanent  for  ever." 

Blake,  "Jerusalem." 


X 


CHAPTER   I 
INTRODUCTORY 

Our  object  is  to  describe  the  normal  development  of  mystic  consciousness — Its 
difficulty — Mystics  differ  enormously  from  one  another — No  one  mystic  completely 
typical — A  "composite  portrait"  necessary  —  Its  characteristics  —  The  developing 
mystic  consciousness  oscillates  between  pain  and  pleasure  states — Its  growth  is  a 
continuous  transcendence — Five  great  stages  :  I.  Awakening  or  Conversion  ;  2.  Self- 
knowledge  or  Purgation  ;  3.  Illumination  ;  4.  Surrender,  or  the  Dark  Night ; 
5.  Union — Distinction  between  Union  and  Ecstasy — Unitive  Life  the  goal  of  the 
Mystic  Way — Annihilation  of  Self  the  end  of  Oriental  Mysticism — Christian  Mysticism 
denies  this  interpretation  of  Union — Finds  in  it  the  enhancement  not  the  suppression 
of  life — The  Divine  Dark — The  true  Unitive  Life  active — A  state  of  Divine 
Fecundity — The  "great  actives" — Their  dual  character  of  action  and  fruition — St. 
Catherine  of  Siena — The  proper  end  of  the  Mystic  Way  is  Deification 

WE  are  now  to  turn  from  general  principles  and  study 
those  principles  in  action  :  to  describe  the  psycho- 
logical process,  or  "  Mystic  Way,"  by  which  that 
peculiar  type  of  personality  which  is  able  to  set  up  direct 
relations  with  the  Absolute  is  usually  developed.  The  difficulty 
of  this  description  will  lie  in  the  fact  that  all  mystics  differ 
one  from  another  ;  as  all  the  individual  objects  of  our  perception, 
"  living "  and  "  not  living,"  do.  The  creative  impulse  in  the 
world,  so  far  as  we  are  aware  of  it,  appears  upon  ultimate 
analysis  to  be  free  and  original,  not  bound  and  mechanical :  to 
express  itself,  in  defiance  of  the  determinists,  with  a  certain 
artistic  spontaneity.  Man,  when  he  picks  out  some  point  of 
likeness  as  a  basis  on  which  to  arrange  its  productions  in  groups, 
is  not  discovering  its  methods ;  but  merely  making  for  his  own 
convenience  an  arbitrary  choice  of  one  or  two — not  necessarily 
characteristic — qualities,  which  happen  to  appear  in  a  certain 
number  of  different  persons  or  things.  Hence  the  most 
scientific  classification  is  a  rough-and-ready  business  at  the 
best. 

203 


204  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

When  we  come  to  apply  such  a  classification  to  so  delicate 
and  elusive  a  series  of  psychological  states  as  those  which 
accompany  the  "contemplative  life,"  all  the  usual  difficulties 
seem  to  be  enormously  increased.  No  one  mystic  can  be 
discovered  in  whom  all  the  observed  characteristics  of  the 
transcendental  consciousness  are  resumed,  and  who  can  on  that 
account  be  treated  as  typical.  Mental  states  which  are  distinct 
and  mutually  exclusive  in  one  case,  exist  simultaneously  in 
another.  In  some,  stages  which  have  been  regarded  as  essential 
are  entirely  omitted :  in  others,  their  order  appears  to  be 
reversed.  We  seem  at  first  to  be  confronted  by  a  group  of 
selves  which  arrive  at  the  same  end  without  obeying  any 
general  law. 

Take,  however,  a  number  of  such  definitely  mystical  selves 
and  make  of  them,  so  to  speak,  a  "  composite  portrait "  :  as 
anthropologists  do  when  they  wish  to  discover  the  character  of 
a  race.  From  this  portrait  we  may  expect  a  type  to  emerge, 
in  which  all  the  outstanding  characteristics  contributed  by  the 
individual  examples  are  present  together,  and  minor  variations 
are  suppressed.  Such  a  portrait  will  of  course  be  conventional : 
but  it  will  be  useful  as  a  standard,  which  can  be  constantly 
compared  with,  and  corrected  by,  isolated  specimens. 

The  first  thing  we  notice  about  this  composite  portrait  is 
that  the  typical  mystic  seems  to  move  towards  his  goal  through 
a  series  of  strongly  marked  oscillations  between  "states  of 
pleasure  "  and  "  states  of  pain."  The  existence  and  succession 
of  these  states — sometimes  broken  and  confused,  sometimes 
crisply  defined — can  be  traced,  to  a  greater  or  less  degree,  in 
almost  every  case  of  which  we  possess  anything  like  a  detailed 
record.  Gyrans  gyrando  vadit  spiritus.  The  soul,  as  it 
treads  the  ascending  spiral  of  its  road  towards  reality,  expe- 
riences alternately  the  sunshine  and  the  shade.  These 
experiences  are  "  constants  "  of  the  transcendental  life.  "  The 
Spiritual  States  of  the  Soul  are  all  Eternal,"  said  Blake,  with 
the  true  mystical  genius  for  psychology.1 

The  complete  series  of  these  states — and  it  must  not   be 

forgotten  that  few  individuals  present  them  all  in  perfection, 

whilst  in  many  instances  several  are  blurred  or  appear  to  be 

completely   suppressed — will    be,    I    think,   most   conveniently 

1  "Jerusalem,"  pt.  iii. 


INTEODUCTOEY  205 

arranged  under  five  heads.  This  method  of  grouping  means, 
of  course,  the  abandonment  of  the  time-honoured  threefold 
division  of  the  Mystic  Way,  and  the  apparent  neglect  of 
St.  Teresa's  equally  celebrated  Seven  Degrees  of  Contemplation ; 
but  I  think  that  we  shall  gain  more  than  we  lose  by  adopting 
it.  The  groups,  however,  must  be  looked  upon  throughout  as 
diagrammatic,  and  only  as  answering  loosely  and  generally 
to  experiences  which  seldom  present  themselves  in  so  rigid 
and  unmixed  a  form.  These  experiences,  largely  conditioned 
as  they  are  by  surroundings  and  by  temperament,  exhibit  all 
the  variety  and  spontaneity  which  are  characteristic  of  life 
in  its  highest  manifestations  :  and,  like  biological  specimens, 
they  lose  something  of  their  essential  reality  in  being  prepared 
for  scientific  investigation.  Taken  all  together,  they  constitute 
one  continuous  process  of  transcendence :  the  movement  of 
consciousness  from  lower  to  higher  levels  of  reality,  the  steady 
remaking  of  character  in  accordance  with  the  "independent 
spiritual  world."  But  as  the  study  of  physical  life  is  made 
easier  for  us  by  an  artificial  division  into  infancy,  adolescence, 
maturity,  and  old  age,  so  a  discreet  indulgence  of  the  human 
passion  for  map-making  will  materially  increase  our  chances 
of  understanding  the  nature  of  the  Mystic  Way. 

Here,  then,  is  the  somewhat  arbitrary  classification  under 
which  we  shall  study  the  phases  of  the  mystical  life. 

(i)  The  awakening  of  the  Self  to  consciousness  of  Divine 
Reality.  This  experience,  usually  abrupt  and  well-marked, 
is  accompanied  by  intense  feelings  of  joy  and  exaltation. 

(2)  The  Self,  aware  for  the  first  time  of  Divine  Beauty, 
realizes  by  contrast  its  own  finiteness  and  imperfection,  the 
manifold  illusions  in  which  it  is  immersed,  the  immense  distance 
which  separates  it  from  the  One.  Its  attempts  to  eliminate 
by  discipline  and  mortification  all  that  stands  in  the  way  of 
its  progress  towards  union  with  God  constitute  Purgation : 
a  state  of  pain  and  effort. 

(3)  When  by  Purgation  the  Self  has  become  detached  from 
the  "things  of  sense,"  and  acquired  the  "ornaments  of  the 
spiritual  marriage,"  its  joyful  consciousness  of  the  Transcendent 
Order  returns  in  an  enhanced  form.  Like  the  prisoners  in  Plato's 
"  Cave  of  Illusion,"  it  has  awakened  to  knowledge  of  Reality, 
has  struggled  up  the  harsh  and  difficult   path   to  the   mouth 


206  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

of  the  cave.  Now  it  looks  upon  the  sun.  This  is  Illumina- 
tion :  a  state  which  includes  in  itself  many  of  the  stages  of 
contemplation,  "  degrees  of  orison,"  visions  and  adventures 
of  the  soul  described  by  St.  Teresa  and  other  mystical 
writers.  These  form,  as  it  were,  a  way  within  the  Way : 
a  moyen  de  parvenii%  a  training  devised  by  experts  which 
will  strengthen  and  assist  the  mounting  soul.  They  stand, 
so  to  speak,  for  education  ;  whilst  the  Way  proper  repre- 
sents organic  growth.  Illumination  is  the  "contemplative 
state "  par  excellence.  It  forms,  with  the  two  preceding 
states,  the  "  first  mystic  life."  Many  mystics  never  go  beyond 
it ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  many  seers  and  artists  not 
usually  classed  amongst  them,  have  tasted,  to  some  extent, 
the  splendours  of  the  illuminated  state.  It  entails  a  vision 
of  the  Absolute  :  a  sense  of  the  Divine  Presence :  but  not 
true  union  with  it.     It  is  a  state  of  happiness. 

(4)  In  the  development  of  the  great  and  strenuous  seekers 
after  God,  this  is  followed  —  or  sometimes  intermittently 
accompanied — by  the  most  terrible  of  all  the  experiences  of 
the  Mystic  Way :  the  last  and  most  complete  purification  of 
the  Self,  which  is  called  by  some  contemplatives  the  "  Mystic 
pain "  or  "  Mystic  death,"  by  others  the  Dark  Night  of  the 
Soul.  The  consciousness  which  had,  in  Illumination,  sunned 
itself  in  the  sense  of  the  Divine  Presence,  now  suffers  under 
an  equally  intense  sense  of  the  Divine  Absence  :  learning  to 
dissociate  the  personal  satisfaction  of  mystical  vision  from  the 
reality  of  mystical  life.  As  in  Purgation  the  senses  were 
cleansed  and  humbled,  and  the  energies  and  interests  of  the 
Self  were  concentrated  upon  transcendental  things :  so  now 
the  purifying  process  is  extended  to  the  very  centre  of 
I-hood,  the  will.  The  human  instinct  for  personal  happiness 
must  be  killed.  This  is  the  "  spiritual  crucifixion "  so  often 
described  by  the  mystics  :  the  great  desolation  in  which  the 
soul  seems  abandoned  by  the  Divine.  The  Self  now  sur- 
renders itself,  its  individuality,  and  its  will,  completely.  It 
desires  nothing,  asks  nothing,  is  utterly  passive,  and  is  thus 
prepared  for 

(5)  Union :  the  true  goal  of  the  mystic  quest.  In  this 
state  the  Absolute  Life  is  not  merely  perceived  and  enjoyed 
by  the  Self,  as  in  Illumination :   but  is  one  with  it.     This  is 


INTRODUCTORY  207 

the  end  towards  which  all  the  previous  oscillations  of  con- 
sciousness have  tended.  It  is  a  state  of  equilibrium,  of  purely 
spiritual  life  ;  characterized  by  peaceful  joy,  by  enhanced  powers, 
by  intense  certitude.  To  call  this  state,  as  some  authorities 
do,  by  the  name  of  Ecstasy,  is  inaccurate  and  confusing  :  since 
the  term  Ecstasy  has  long  been  used  both  by  psychologists 
and  ascetic  writers  to  define  that  short  and  rapturous  trance 
— a  state  with  well-marked  physical  and  psychical  accompani- 
ments— in  which  the  contemplative,  losing  all  consciousness 
of  the  phenomenal  world,  is  caught  up  to  a  brief  and  immediate 
enjoyment  of  the  Divine  Vision.  Ecstasies  of  this  kind  are 
often  experienced  by  the  mystic  in  Illumination,  or  even  on 
his  first  conversion.  They  cannot  therefore  be  regarded  as 
exclusively  characteristic  of  the  Unitive  Way.  In  some, 
indeed — St.  Teresa  is  an  example — the  ecstatic  trance  seems 
to  diminish  rather  than  increase  in  frequency  after  the  state 
of  union  has  been  attained. 

Union  must  be  looked  upon  as  the  true  end  of  mystical 
education,  the  permanent  condition  of  life  upon  transcendent 
levels  of  reality,  of  which  ecstasies  give  a  foretaste  to  the  soul. 
Intense  forms  of  it,  described  by  individual  mystics,  under 
symbols  such  as  those  of  Mystical  Marriage,  Deification,  or 
Divine  Fecundity,  all  prove  on  examination  to  be  aspects  of 
this  same  experience  "seen  through  a  temperament." 

It  is  right,  however,  to  state  here  that  Oriental  Mysticism 
insists  upon  a  further  stage  beyond  that  of  union,  which  stage 
it  regards  as  the  real  goal  of  the  spiritual  life.  This  is  the  total 
annihilation  or  reabsorption  of  the  individual  soul  in  the 
Infinite.  Such  an  annihilation  is  said  by  the  Sufis  to  con- 
stitute the  "  Eighth  Stage  of  Progress,"  in  which  alone  they 
truly  attain  to  God.  Thus  stated  it  appears  to  differ  little 
from  the  Buddhist's  Nirvana,  and  is  the  logical  corollary  of 
that  pantheism  to  which  the  Oriental  mystic  always  tends. 
It  is  at  least  doubtful,  however,  whether  the  interpretation 
which  has  been  put  upon  it  by  European  students  be  correct. 
The  passage  in  which  Al  Ghazzali  attempts  to  describe  it  is 
certainly  more  applicable  to  the  Unitive  Life  as  understood 
by  Christian  contemplatives,  than  to  the  Buddhistic  annihilation 
of  personality.  "The  end  of  Sufi-ism,"  he  says,  "is  total 
absorption  in  God.     This  is  at  least  the  relative  end  to  that 


f 


208  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

part  of  their  doctrine  which  I  am  free  to  reveal  and  describe. 
But  in  reality  it  is  but  the  beginning  of  the  Sufi  life,  for  those 
intuitions  and  other  things  which  precede  it  are,  so  to  speak, 
but  the  porch  by  which  they  enter.  ...  In  this  state  some 
have  imagined  themselves  to  be  amalgamated  with  God,  others 
to  be  identical  with  Him,  others  again  to  be  associated  with 
Him  :  but  all  this  is  sin"  z 

The  doctrine  of  annihilation  as  the  end  of  the  soul's  ascent, 
whatever  the  truth  may  be  as  to  the  Moslem  attitude  con- 
cerning it,  is  decisively  rejected  by  all  European  mystics, 
though  a  belief  in  it  is  constantly  imputed  to  them  by  their 
enemies :  for  their  aim  is  not  the  suppression  of  life,  but  its 
intensification,  a  change  in  its  form.  This  change,  they  say 
in  a  paradox  which  is  generally  misunderstood,  consists  in 
the  perfecting  of  personality  by  the  utter  surrender  of  self. 
It  is  true  that  the  more  Orientally-minded  amongst  them, 
such  as  Dionysius  the  Areopagite,  do  use  language  of  a  negative 
kind  which  seems  almost  to  involve  a  belief  in  the  annihila- 
tion rather  than  the  transformation  of  the  self  in  God  :  but  this 
is  because  they  are  trying  to  describe  a  condition  of  super- 
sensible vitality  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  normal  con- 
sciousness, to  which  it  can  only  seem  a  Nothing,  a  Dark, 
a  Self-loss.  Further,  it  will  be  found  that  this  temperamental 
language  is  generally  an  attempt  to  describe  the  conditions 
of  transitory  perception,  not  those  of  permanent  existence : 
the  characteristics,  that  is  to  say,  of  the  Ecstatic  Trance,  in 
which  for  a  short  time  the  whole  self  is  lifted  to  tran- 
scendent levels,  and  the  Absolute  is  apprehended  by  a  total 
suspension  of  the  surface  consciousness. 

Hence  the  Divine  Dark,  the  Nothing,  'is  not  a  state  of  non- 
being  to  which  the  mystic  aspires  to  attain  :  it  is  rather  an 
approximate  and  imperfect  name  for  his  consciousness  of  that  Un- 
differentiated Godhead,  that  Supernal  Light  whence  he  may,  in 
his  ecstasies,  bring  down  fire  from  heaven  to  light  the  world. 

In  the  mystics  of  the  West,  the  highest  forms  of  Divine 
Union  impel  the  self  to  some  sort  of  active,  rather  than  of 
passive  life :  and  this  is  now  recognized  by  the  best  authorities 
as  the  true  distinction  between  Christian  and  non-Christian 
mysticism.     "The  Christian  mystics,"   says   Delacroix,  "move 

1  Schmolders,  "  Les  Ecoles  Philosophiques  chez  les  Arabes,"  p.  61 


INTRODUCTORY  209 

from  the  Infinite  to  the  Definite ;  they  aspire  to  inflnitize  life 
and  to  define  Infinity  ;  they  go  from  the  conscious  to  the  sub- 
conscious, and  from  the  subconscious  to  the  conscious.  The 
obstacle  in  their  path  is  not  consciousness  in  general,  but  self- 
consciousness,  the  consciousness  of  the  Ego.  The  Ego  is  the 
limitation,  that  which  opposes  itself  to  the  Infinite  :  the  states  of 
consciousness  free  from  self,  lost  in  a  vaster  consciousness,  may 
become  modes  of  the  Infinite,  and  states  of  the  Divine  Conscious- 
ness." x  So  Starbuck  :  "  The  individual  learns  to  transfer  him- 
self from  a  centre  of  self-activity  into  an  organ  of  revelation  of 
universal  being,  and  to  live  a  life  of  affection  for  and  one-ness 
with,  the  larger  life  outside."  2 

Hence,  the  ideal  of  the  great  contemplatives,  the  end  of  their 
long  education,  is  to  become  "  modes  of  the  Infinite."  Filled 
with  an  abounding  sense  of  the  Divine  Life,  of  ultimate  and 
adorable  reality,  sustaining  and  urging  them  on,  they  wish  to 
communicate  the  revelation,  the  more  abundant  life,  which  they 
have  received.  Not  spiritual  marriage,  but  divine  fecundity  is  to 
be  their  final  state.  In  a  sense  St.  Teresa  in  the  Seventh 
Habitation,  Suso  when  his  great  renunciation  is  made,  have 
achieved  the  quest ;  yet  there  is  nothing  passive  in  the  condition 
to  which  they  have  come.  Not  Galahad,  but  the  Grail-bearer 
is  now  their  type  :  and  in  their  life,  words  or  works  they  are 
impelled  to  exhibit  that  "  Hidden  Treasure  which  desires  to  be 
found." 

"  You  may  think,  my  daughters,"  says  St.  Teresa,  "  that  the 
soul  in  this  state  [of  union]  should  be  so  absorbed  that  she  can 
occupy  herself  with  nothing.  You  deceive  yourselves.  She 
turns  with  greater  ease  and  ardour  than  before  to  all  that  which 
belongs  to  the  service  of  God,  and  when  these  occupations  leave 
her  free  again,  she  remains  in  the  enjoyment  of  that  com- 
panionship." 3 

No  temperament  is  less  slothful  than  the  mystical  one  ;  and 
the  "  quiet  "  to  which  the  mystics  must  school  themselves  in  the 
early  stages  of  contemplation  is  often  the  hardest  of  their  tasks. 
The  abandonment  of  bodily  and  intellectual  activity  is  only 
undertaken  in  order  that  they  may,  in  the  words  of  Plotinus, 

1  "  Etudes  sur  le  Mysticisme,"  p.  235. 

3  "The  Psychology  of  Religion,"  p.  147. 

3  "  El  Castillo  Interior,"  Moradas  Setimas,  cap.  i. 


210  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

"energize  enthusiastically"  upon  another  plane.  Work  they 
must :  but  this  work  may  take  many  forms — forms  which  are 
sometimes  so  wholly  spiritual  that  they  are  not  perceptible  to 
practical  minds.  Much  of  the  misunderstanding  and  consequent 
contempt  of  the  contemplative  life  comes  from  the  narrow  and 
superficial  definition  of  "  work  "  which  is  set  up  by  a  muscular 
and  wage-earning  community. 

All  records  of  mysticism  in  the  West,  then,  are  also  the 
records  of  supreme  human  activity.  Not  only  of  "  wrestlers  in 
the  spirit "  but  also  of  great  organizers,  such  as  St.  Teresa  and 
St.  John  of  the  Cross ;  of  missionaries  preaching  life  to  the 
spiritually  dead,  such  as  St.  Francis  of  Assisi,  St.  Ignatius 
Loyola,  Eckhart,  Suso,  Tauler,  Fox ;  of  philanthropists,  such  as 
St.  Catherine  of  Genoa  ;  poets  and  prophets,  such  as  Mechthild 
of  Magdeburg,  Jacopone  da  Todi  and  Blake ;  finally,  of  some 
immensely  virile  souls  whose  participation  in  the  Absolute  Life 
has  seemed  to  force  on  them  a  national  destiny.  Of  this 
St.  Bernard,  St.  Catherine  of  Siena,  and  the  Blessed  Joan  of 
Arc  are  the  supreme  examples.  "  The  soul  enamoured  of  My 
Truth,"  said  God's  voice  to  St.  Catherine  of  Siena,  "  never  ceases 
to  serve  the  whole  world  in  general." x 

Utterly  remade  in  the  interests  of  Reality,  exhibiting 
that  dual  condition  of  fruition  and  activity  which  Ruysbroeck 
described  as  the  crowning  stage  of  human  evolution,  the 
"  Supreme  summit  of  the  Inner  Life,"  2  all  these  lived,  as  it 
were,  with  both  hands ;  towards  the  finite  and  towards  the 
Infinite,  towards  God  and  man.  It  is  true  that  in  nearly 
every  case  such  "  great  actives "  have  first  left  the  world 
as  a  necessary  condition  of  obtaining  contact  with  that  Abso- 
lute Life  which  reinforced  their  own :  for  a  mind  distracted 
by  the  many  cannot  apprehend  the  One.  Hence  the  solitude  of 
the  wilderness  is  an  essential  part  of  mystical  education.  But, 
having  obtained  that  contact,  and  established  themselves  upon 
transcendent  levels — being  united  with  their  Source  not  merely 
in  temporary  ecstasies,  but  by  an  act  of  complete  surrender — 
they  were  impelled  to  abandon  their  solitude ;  and  resumed,  in 
some  way,  their  contact  with  the  world  in  order  to  become  the 
medium  whereby  that  Life  flowed  out  to  other  men.     To  go  up 

1  Dialogo,  cap.  vii. 

8  "  L'Ornement  des  Noces  Spirituelles,"  1.  ii.  cap.  lxxiii. 


I 


INTRODUCTORY  2 

alone  into  the  mountain  and  come  back  as  an  ambassador  to  the 
world,  has  ever  been  the  method  of  humanity's  best  friends. 
This  systole-and-diastole  motion  of  retreat  as  the  preliminary  to 
a  return  remains  the  true  ideal  of  Christian  Mysticism  in  its 
highest  development.  Those  in  whom  it  is  not  found,  however 
great  in  other  respects  they  may  be,  must  be  considered  as 
having  stopped  short  of  the  final  stage. 

Thus  St.  Catherine  of  Siena  spent  three  year  a  hermit-like 
seclusion  in  the  little  room  which  we  still  see  in  her  house  in  the 
Via  Benincasa,  entirely  a&x  off  from  the  ordinary  life  of  her 
family.  "  Within  her  own  house,"  zzys  her  legend,  "  she  found 
the  desert;  and  a  solitude  in  the  midst  of  people."1  There 
Catherine  endured  many  mortifications,  was  visited  by  ecstasies 
and  visions  :  passed,  in  fact,  through  the  states  of  Purgation  and 
Illumination,  which  existed  in  her  case  side  by  side.  This  life 
of  solitude  was  brought  to  an  abrupt  end  by  the  experience 
which  is  symbolized  in  the  vision  of  the  Mystic  Marriage,  and 
the  Voice  which  then  said  to  her,  "  Now  will  I  wed  thy  soul, 
which  shall  ever  be  conjoined  and  united  to  Me !  "  Catherine, 
who  had  during  her  long  retreat  enjoyed  illumination  to  a  high 
degree,  now  entered  upon  the  Unitive  State,  in  which  the  whole 
of  her  public  life  was  passed.  Its  effect  was  immediately 
noticeable.  She  abandoned  her  solitude,  joined  in  the  family 
life,  went  out  into  the  city  to  serve  the  poor  and  sick,  attracted 
and  taught  disciples,  converted  sinners,  and  began  that  career  of 
varied  and  boundless  activity  which  has  made  her  name  one  of 
the  greatest  in  the  history  of  the  fourteenth  century.  Nor  does 
this  mean  that  she  ceased  to  live  the  sort  of  life  which  is 
characteristic  of  mystical  consciousness  :  to  experience  direct 
contact  with  the  Transcendental  World,  to  gaze  into  "  the  Abyss 
of  Love  Divine."  On  the  contrary  her  astonishing  practical 
genius  for  affairs,  her  immense  power  of  ruling  men,  drew  its 
strength  from  the  long  series  of  visions  and  ecstasies  which 
accompanied  and  supported  her  labours  in  the  world.  She 
"descended  into  the  valley  of  lilies  to  make  herself  more  fruitful," 
says  her  legend. 2  The  conscious  vehicle  of  some  "  power 
not  herself,"  she  spoke  and  acted  with  an  authority  which 
might  have  seemed  strange  enough  in  an  uneducated  daughter 

1  E.  Gardner,  "St.  Catherine  of  Siena,"  p.  15. 

2  S.  Catherinae  Senensis  Vitae  (Acta  SS.  Aprilis  t.  iii.),  ii.  ii.  §4. 


'M  AN  1NTK0DUCTI0N  TO  MYSTICISM 

people,  were  it  not  justified  by  the  fact  that  all  who  came 
tact  with  her  su:  fitted  to  its  influence. 
)i  r  business,  then,  is  to  trace  from  its  beginning  a  gradual 
and  complete  change  in  the  equilibrium  of  the  self.  It  is  a 
change  whereby  that  self  turns  from  the  unreal  world  of  sense 
in  which  i^s  normally  immersed,  first  t<  apprehend,  then  to  unite 
itself  with  Absolute  Reality:  finally,  possessed  by  and  wholly 
surrendered  to  this  Transcendent  Life,  becomes  a  medium 
whereby  the  spiritual  world  is  seen  in  a  unique  degree  operating 
directly  in  the  world  of  sense.  \  Mother-  words,  we  are  to  see 
the  human  mind  advance?  irom  the  mere  perception  of 
phenomena,  through  the  intuition — v  ^casional  contact — of 

the  Absolute  under  its  aspect  of  Divine  Transcendence,  to  the 
entire  realization  of,  and  union  with  olute  Life  under  its 

aspect  of  Divine  Immanence. 

The  completed  mystical  life,  then,  is  more  than  intuitional : 
it  is  theopathetic.  In  the  old,  frank  language  of  the  mystics,  it 
is  the  deified  life. 


u 


CHAPTER    II 

THE   AWAKENING   OF  THE   SELF 

The  awakening  of  transcendental  consciousness — Psychologically  it  is  a  form  of 
conversion — Generally  abrupt — Sometimes  gradual — George  Fox — An  ineffable 
revelation — A  vision  of  the  Divine  immanent  in  the  world — General  characteristics 
of  mystic  conversion — Instances — St.  Francis  of  Assisi — The  typical  mystic — St. 
Catherine  of  Genoa — Madame  Guyon — Her  character — Her  early  life  and  conversion 
— Rulman  Merswin — Suso — Ecstatic  conversion — Pascal — Brother  Lawrence — The 
perception  of  Divine  Reality  in  Nature — The  "  transfigured  world  " — Instances — 
Walt  Whitman — Richard  Jefferies — Richard  Rolle — Heavenly  Song — Conversion 
may  take  two  forms  :  (i)  Expansive  and  Transcendent ;  (2)  Personal  and  Immanent — 
Their  characteristics  discussed  and  compared — Personal  love  the  essential  factor — The 
stimulus  which  sets  the  process  of  transcendence  to  work 

FIRST  in  the  sequence  of  the  mystic  states,  we  must 
consider  that  decisive  event,  the  awakening  of  the 
transcendental  consciousness. 
This  awakening,  from  the  psychological  point  of  view, 
appears  to  be  an  intense  form  of  the  much-discussed  phenomenon 
of  "  conversion."  In  particular,  it  is  closely  akin  to  those  deep 
and  permanent  conversions  of  the  adult  type  which  some 
religious  psychologists  call  "  sanctification."  *  It  is  a  disturb- 
ance of  the  equilibrium  of  the  self,  which  results  in  the  shifting 
of  the  field  of  consciousness  from  lower  to  higher  levels,  with  a 
consequent  removal  of  the  centre  of  interest  from  the  subject  to 
an  object  now  brought  unto  view :  the  necessary  beginning  of 
any  process  of  transc  idence.  It  must  not,  however,  be  con- 
fusea  or  identified  with  religiouf  conversion  as  ordinarily  under- 
stood :  the  sudden  and  emotional  acceptance  of  theological 
beliefs  which  the  self  had  previously  either  rejected  or  treated 
as  conventions  dwelling  upon  the  margin  of  consciousness  and 
having  no  meaning  for  her  actual  life.     The  mechanical  process 

1  See  Starbuck,  "  The  Psychology  of  Religion,"  cap.  xxix. 

*  :>  2I3 


214  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

may  be  much  the  same  ;  but  the  material  involved,  the  results 
attained,  belong  to  a  higher  order  of  reality. 

"  Conversion,"  says  Starbuck,  in  words  which  are  really  far 
more  descriptive  of  mystical  awakening  than  of  the  revivalistic 
phenomena  encouraged  by  American  Protestantism,  "is 
primarily  an  unselflng.  The  first  birth  of  the  individual  is 
into  his  own  little  world.  He  is  controlled  by  the  deep-seated 
instincts  of  self-preservation  and  self-enlargement — instincts 
which  are,  doubtless,  a  direct  inheritance  from  his  brute 
ancestry.  The  universe  is  organized  around  his  own  personality 
as  a  centre."  Conversion,  then,  is  "  the  larger  world-conscious- 
ness now  pressing  in  on  the  individual  consciousness.  Often  it 
breaks  in  suddenly  and  becomes  a  great  new  revelation.  This 
is  the  first  aspect  of  conversion  :  the  person  emerges  from  a 
smaller  limited  world  of  existence  into  a  larger  world  of  being. 
His  life  becomes  swallowed  up  in  a  larger  whole."  * 

All  conversion  entails  the  abrupt  or  gradual  emergence  of 
intuitions  from  below  the  threshold,  the  consequent  remaking 
of  the  field  of  consciousness,  an  alteration  in  the  self  s  attitude 
to  the  world.  But  in  the  mystic  this  process  is  raised  to  the 
nth  degree  of  intensity,  for  in  him  it  means  the  first  emergence 
of  that  genius  for  the  Absolute  which  is  to  constitute  his  dis- 
tinctive character :  an  emergence  enormous  in  its  effect  on 
every  department  of  his  life.  Those  to  whom  it  happens,  often 
enough,  are  already  "religious":  sometimes  deeply  and 
earnestly  so.  Rulman  Merswin,  St.  Catherine  of  Genoa, 
Madame  Guyon,  George  Fox — all  these  had  been  bred  up 
in  piety,  and  accepted  in  its  entirety  the  Christian  tradition. 
They  were  none  the  less  conscious  of  an  utter  change  in  their 
world  when  this  opening  of  the  soul's  eye  took  place. 

Sometimes  the  emergence  of  the  mystical  consciousness  is 
gradual,  unmarked  by  any  definite  crisis.  The  self  slides 
gently,  almost  imperceptibly,  from  the  old  universe  to  the  new. 
The  records  of  mysticism,  however,  seem  to  suggest  that  this 
is  exceptional :  that  travail  is  the  normal  accompaniment  of 
birth.  In  another  type,  of  which  George  Fox  is  a  typical 
example,  there  is  no  conversion  in  the  ordinary  sense;  but  a 
gradual  and  increasing  lucidity,  of  which  the  beginning  has 
hardly  been  noticed  by  the  self,  intermittently  accompanies  the 

1  Op.  cit.y  cap.  xii. 


THE  AWAKENING  OF  THE  SELF  215 

pain,  misery  of  mind,  and  inward  struggles  characteristic  of  the 
entrance  upon  the  Way  of  Purgation.  Conversion  and  purifica- 
tion then  go  hand  in  hand,  finally  shading  off  into  the  serenity 
of  the  Illuminated  State.  Fox's  "Journal"  for  the  year  1647 
contains  a  vivid  account  of  these  "  showings  "  or  growing  tran- 
scendental perceptions  of  a  mind  not  yet  at  one  with  itself,  and 
struggling  towards  clearness  of  sight.  "  Though  my  exercises 
and  troubles,"  he  says,  "  were  very  great,  yet  were  they  not  so 
continual  but  I  had  some  intermissions,  and  was  sometimes 
brought  into  such  a  heavenly  joy  that  I  thought  I  had  been  in 
Abraham's  bosom.  .  .  .  Thus  in  the  deepest  miseries,  and  in 
the  greatest  sorrows  and  temptations  that  many  times  beset  me, 
the  Lord  in  His  mercy  did  keep  me.  I  found  that  there  were 
two  thirsts  in  me ;  the  one  after  the  creatures  to  get  help  and 
strength  there ;  and  the  other  after  the  Lord,  the  Creator.  .  .  . 
It  was  so  with  me,  that  there  seemed  to  be  two  pleadings  in  me. 
.  .  .  One  day  when  I  had  been  walking  solitarily  abroad  and 
was  come  home,  I  was  wrapped  up  in  the  love  of  God,  so  that  I 
could  not  but  admire  the  greatness  of  his  love.  While  I  was 
in  that  condition  it  was  opened  unto  me  by  the  eternal  Light 
and  Power,  and  I  saw  clearly  therein.  .  .  .  But  O !  then  did  I 
see  my  troubles,  trials,  and  temptations  more  clearly  than  ever 
I  had  done."  * 

The  great  oscillations  of  the  typical  mystic  between  joy  and 
pain  are  here  replaced  by  a  number  of  little  ones.  The  "  two 
thirsts"  of  the  superficial  and  spiritual  consciousness  assert 
themselves  by  turns.  Each  step  towards  the  vision  of  the  Real 
brings  with  it  a  reaction.  The  nascent  transcendental  powers 
are  easily  fatigued,  and  the  pendulum  of  self  takes  a  shorter 
swing.  "  I  was  swept  up  to  Thee  by  Thy  Beauty,  and  torn 
away  from  Thee  by  my  own  weight,"  says  St.  Augustine, 
crystallizing  the  secret  of  this  experience  in  an  unforgettable 
phrase.2 

Most  often,  however,  if  we  may  judge  from  those  first-hand 
accounts  which  we  possess,  mystic  conversion  is  a  single  and 
abrupt  experience,  sharply  marked  off  from  the  long,  dim 
struggles  which  precede  and  succeed  it.  Normally,  it  takes 
the  form  of  a  sudden  and  acute  realization  of  a  splendour  and 
adorable  reality  in  the  world — or  sometimes  of  its  obverse,  the 

1  Journal  of  George  Fox,  cap.  i.  a  Aug.  Conf. ,  bk.  vii.  cap.  xvii. 


/ 


216  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

I 

divine  sorrow  at  the  heart  of  things — never  before  perceived. 
In  so  far  as  I  am  acquainted  with  the  resources  of  language, 
there  are  no  words  in  which  this  realization  can  be  described. 
It  is  of  so  actual  a  nature  that  in  comparison  the  normal  world 
of  past  perception  seems  but  twilit  at  the  best.  Conscious- 
ness has  suddenly  changed  its  rhythm  and  a  new  aspect  of 
the  universe  rushes  in.  The  teasing  mists  are  swept  away,  and 
reveal,  if  only  for  an  instant,  the  sharp  outline  of  the  Everlast- 
ing Hills.  "  He  who  knows  this  will  know  what  I  say,  and  will 
be  convinced  that  the  soul  has  then  another  life."  * 

In  most  cases,  the  onset  of  this  new  consciousness  seems  to 
the  self  so  sudden,  so  clearly  imposed  from  without  rather  than 
developed  from  within,  as  to  have  a  supernatural  character. 
The  typical  case  is,  of  course,  that  of  St.  Paul  :  the  sudden 
light,  the  voice,  the  ecstasy,  the  complete  alteration  of  life. 
We  shall  see,  however,  when  we  come  to  study  the  evidence  of 
those  mystics  who  have  left  a  detailed  record  of  their  pre- 
converted  state,  that  the  apparently  abrupt  conversion  is 
really,  as  a  rule,  the  sequel  and  the  result  of  a  long  period  of 
restlessness,  uncertainty,  and  mental  stress.  The  deeper  mind 
stirs  uneasily  in  its  prison,  and  its  emergence  is  but  the  last  of 
many  efforts  to  escape.  The  temperament  of  the  subject,  his 
surroundings,  the  vague  but  persistent  apprehensions  of  a  super- 
sensual  reality  which  he  could  not  find  yet  could  not  forget  ; 
all  these  have  prepared  him  for  it.2 

When,  however,  the  subconscious  intuitions,  long  ago 
quickened,  are  at  last  brought  to  birth  and  the  eyes  are  opened 
on  new  light — and  it  is  significant  that  an  actual  sense  of  blind- 
ing radiance  is  a  constant  accompaniment  of  this  state  of 
consciousness — the  storm  and  stress,  the  vague  cravings  and 
oscillations  of  the  past  life  are  forgotten.  In  this  abrupt 
recognition  of  reality  "  all  things  are  made  new  " :  from  this 
point  the  life  of  the  mystic  begins.  Conversion  of  this  sort  may 
be  defined  as  a  sudden,  intense,  and  joyous  perception  of  God 
immanent  in  the  universe  ;  of  the  divine  beauty  and  unutter- 
able splendour  of  that  larger   life  in  which  the  individual  is 

1  Plotinus,  Ennead  vi.  9. 

2  Compare  St.  Augustine's  Confessions,  with  their  description  of  the  years  ot 
uncertainty  and  struggle  which  prepared  him  for  the  sudden  and  final  "  Tolle,  lege  ! " 
that  initiated  him  into  the  long-sought  life  of  Reality. 


THE   AWAKENING  OF  THE  SELF  217 

immersed,  and  of  a  new  life  to  be  lived  by  the  self  in  corre- 
spondence with  this  now  dominant  fact  of  existence.  The  film 
of  appearance  is  abruptly  dissolved,  and  the  eternal  fairy  fields 
are  disclosed.  For  an  instant  the  neophyte  sees  nature  with  the 
eyes  of  God.  In  that  glorious  moment  "all  is  beauty  ;  and 
knowing  this  is  love,  and  love  is  duty."  But  all  that  is  meant 
by  such  a  statement  as  this  only  the  mystics  know  ;  and  even 
they  seem  unable  to  tell. 

I  will  here  set  down  for  comparison  a  few  instances  of  such 
mystical  conversion  ;  quoting,  where  this  is  available,  the  actual 
description  left  by  the  subject  of  his  own  experience,  or  in 
default  of  it,  the  earliest  authentic  account.  In  these  cases, 
when  grouped  together,  we  shall  see  certain  constant  charac- 
teristics, from  which  it  may  be  possible  to  deduce  the  psycho- 
logical law  to  which  they  owe  their  peculiar  form. 

First  in  point  of  time,  and  first  perhaps  also  in  importance 
amongst  those  which  I  have  chosen,  is  the  case  of  St.  Francis  of 
Assisi  ;  that  -great  poet  and  contemplative,  that  impassioned 
lover  of  the  Absolute,  whom  the  unfortunate  enthusiasm  of  his 
agnostic  admirers  has  presented  to  the  modern  world  as  a 
celestial  patron  of  the  Socialist  movement  and  the  simple  life. 
The  fact  that  St.  Francis  wrote  little  and  lived  much,  that  his 
actions  were  of  unequalled  simplicity  and  directness,  has 
blinded  us  to  the  fact  that  he  is  a  typical  mystic  :  the  only 
one,  perhaps,  who  forced  the  most  trivial  and  sordid  circum- 
stances of  sensual  life  to  become  perfect  expressions  of  Reality. 

Now  the  opening  of  St.  Francis's  eyes,  which  took  place  in 
A.D.  1206  when  he  was  twenty- four  years  old,  had  been  preceded 
by  a  long,  hard  struggle  between  the  life  of  the  world  and  the 
persistent  call  of  the  spirit.  His  mind,  in  modern  language,  had 
not  unified  itself.  He  was  a  high-spirited  boy,  full  of  vitality:  a 
natuial  artist,  with  all  the  fastidiousness  which  the  artistic 
temperament  involves.  War  and  pleasure  both  attracted  him, 
and  upon  them,  says  his  legend,  he  "miserably  squandered  and 
wasted  his  time."  *  Nevertheless,  he  was  vaguely  dissatisfied. 
In  the  midst  of  festivities,  he  would  have  sudden  fits  of  abstrac- 
tion :  abortive  attempts  of  the  growing  transcendental  con- 
sciousness, still  imprisoned  below  the  threshold  but  aware  of 
and  in  touch  with  the  Real,  to  force  itself  to  the  surface  and 

1  Thomas  of  Celano,  Legenda  Prima,  cap.  i. 


218  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

seize  the  reins.  "  Even  in  ignorance,"  says  Thomas  of  Celano 
again,  "  he  was  being  led  to  perfect  knowledge."  He  loved 
beauty,  for  he  was  by  nature  a  poet  and  a  musician,  and  shrank 
instinctively  from  contact  with  ugliness  and  disease.  But  some- 
thing within  ran  counter  to  this  temperamental  bias,  and  some- 
times conquered  it.  He  would  then  associate  with  beggars, 
tend  the  leprous,  perform  impulsive  acts  of  charity  and  self- 
humiliation.1 

When  this  divided  state,  described  by  the  legend  as  "the 
attempt  to  flee  God's  hand,"  had  lasted  for  some  years,  it 
happened  one  day  that  he  was  walking  in  the  country  outside 
the  gates  of  Assisi,  and  passed  the  little  church  of  S.  Damiano, 
"  the  which  "  (I  again  quote  from  Thomas  of  Celano's  "Second 
Life")  "was  almost  ruinous  and  forsaken  of  all  men.  And, 
being  led  by  the  Spirit,  he  went  in  to  pray ;  and  he  fell  down 
before  the  Crucifix  in  devout  supplication,  and  having  been 
smitten  by  unwonted  visitations \  found  himself  another  man  than 
he  who  had  gone  in" 

Here,  then,  is  the  first  stage  of  conversion.  The  struggle 
between  two  discrepant  ideals  of  life  has  attained  its  term.  A 
sudden  and  apparently  "  irrational "  impulse  to  some  decisive 
act  reaches  the  surface-consciousness  from  the  seething  deeps. 
The  impulse  is  followed  ;  and  the  swift  emergence  of  the 
transcendental  sense  results.  This  "  unwonted  visitation " 
effects  an  abrupt  and  involuntary  alteration  in  the  subject's 
consciousness  :  whereby  he  literally  "  finds  himself  another 
man."     He  is  as  one  who  slept  and  now  awakes. 

The  crystallization  of  this  new,  at  first  fluid  apprehension  of 
Reality  in  the  form  of  vision  and  audition  :  the  pointing  of  the 
moral,  the  direct  application  of  truth  to  the  awakened  self, 
follows.  "  And  whilst  he  was  thus  moved,  straightway — a  thing 
unheard  of  for  long  ages ! — the  painted  image  of  Christ  Crucified 
spoke  to  him  from  out  its  pictured  lips.  And,  calling  him  by 
his  name,  "  Francis,"  it  said,  "  go,  repair  My  house,  the  which  as 
thou  seest  is  falling  into  decay."  And  Francis  trembled,  being 
utterly  amazed,  and  almost  as  it  were  carried  away  by  these 
words.  And  he  prepared  to  obey,  for  he  was  wholly  set  on  the 
fulfilling  of  this  commandment.     But  forasmuch  as  he  felt  that 

1  Thomas  of  Celano,  Legenda  Secunda,  cap.  v.  Compare  P.  Sabatier,  "  Vie  de 
6.  Francois  d' Assise,"  cap.  ii.,  where  the  authorities  are  fully  set  out. 


THE  AWAKENING   OF  THE  SELF  219 

the  change  he  had  undergone  was  ineffable,  it  becomes  us  to  be 
silent  concerning  it.  .  .  ."  From  this  time  he  "  gave  untiring 
toil  to  the  repair  of  that  Church.  For  though  the  words  which 
were  said  to  him  concerned  that  divine  Church  which  Christ 
bought  with  His  own  Blood,  he  would  not  hasten  to  such 
heights,  but  little  by  little  from  things  of  the  flesh  would  pass 
to  those  of  the  Spirit." x 

In  a  moment  of  time,  Francis's  whole  universe  had  suffered 
complete  rearrangement.  There  are  no  hesitations,  no  uncer- 
tainties. The  change,  which  he  cannot  describe,  he  knows  to  be 
central  for  life.  Not  for  a  moment  does  he  think  of  disobeying 
the  imperative  voice  which  speaks  to  him  from  a  higher  plane 
of  reality  and  demands  the  sacrifice  of  his  career. 

Compare  now  with  the  experience  of  St.  Francis  that  of 
another  great  saint  and  mystic,  who  combined,  as  he  did,  the 
active  with  the  contemplative  life.  Catherine  of  Genoa,  who 
seems  to  have  possessed  from  childhood  a  religious  nature,  was 
prepared  for  the  remaking  of  her  consciousness  by  years  of 
loneliness  and  depression,  the  result  of  an  unhappy  marriage. 
She,  like  St.  Francis — but  in  sorrow  rather  than  in  joy — had 
oscillated  between  the  world,  which  did  not  soothe  her,  and 
religion,  which  helped  her  no  more.  At  last,  she  had  sunk 
into  a  state  of  dull  wretchedness,  a  hatred  alike  of  herself  and 
of  life. 

Her  emancipation  was  equally  abrupt.  In  the  year  1474, 
she  being  twenty-six  years  old,  "The  day  after  the  feast  of 
St.  Benedict  (at  the  instance  of  her  sister  that  was  a  nun), 
Catherine  went  to  make  her  confession  to  the  confessor  of  that 
nunnery  ;  but  she  was  not  disposed  to  do  it.  Then  said  her 
sister, '  At  least  go  and  recommend  yourself  to  him,  because  he 
is  a  most  worthy  religious'  ;  and  in  fact  he  was  a  very  holy 
man.  And  suddenly,  as  she  knelt  before  him,  she  received 
in  her  heart  the  wound  of  the  unmeasured  Love  of  God,  with  so 
clear  a  vision  of  her  own  misery  and  her  faults,  and  of  the  good- 
ness of  God,  that  she  almost  fell  upon  the  ground.  And  by 
these  sensations  of  infinite  love,  and  of  the  offences  that  had 
been  done  against  this  most  sweet  God,  she  was  so  greatly 
drawn  by  purifying  affection  away  from  the  poor  things  of  this 
world  that  she  was  almost  beside  herself,  and  for  this  she  cried 
1  Thomas  of  Celano,  Legenda  Secunda,  cap.  vi. 


220  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

inwardly  with  ardent  love,  '  No  more  world  !  no  more  sin  ! ' 
And  at  this  point,  if  she  had  possessed  a  thousand  worlds,  she 
would  have  thrown  all  of  them  away.  .  .  .  And  she  returned 
home,  kindled  and  deeply  wounded  with  so  great  a  love  of  God, 
the  which  had  been  shown  her  inwardly,  with  the  sight  of  her 
own  wretchedness,  that  she  seemed  beside  herself.  And  she 
shut  herself  in  a  chamber,  the  most  secluded  she  could  find, 
with  burning  sighs.  And  in  this  moment  she  was  inwardly 
taught  the  whole  practice  of  orison  :  but  her  tongue  could  say 
naught  but  this — '  O  Love,  can  it  be  that  thou  hast  called  me 
with  so  great  a  love,  and  made  me  to  know  in  one  instant  that 
which  worlds  cannot  express?'"  This  intuition  of  the  Absolute 
was  followed  by  an  interior  vision  of  Christ  bearing  the  Cross, 
which  further  increased  her  love  and  self-abasement.  "  And 
she  cried  again,  '  O  Love,  no  more  sins  !  no  more  sins  ! '  And 
her  hatred  of  herself  was  more  than  she  could  endure."  x 

Of  this  experience  Von  Hiigel  says,  "If  the  tests  of  reality 
in  such  things  are  their  persistence  and  large  and  rich  spiritual 
applicability  and  fruitfulness,  then  something  profoundly  real 
and  important  took  place  in  the  soul  of  that  sad  and  weary 
woman  of  six-and-twenty,  within  that  convent-chapel,  at  that 
Annunciation-tide."  2  It  is  very  certain  that  for  St.  Catherine, 
as  for  St.  Francis,  an  utterly  new  life  did,  literally,  begin  at  this 
point.  The  centre  of  interest  was  shifted  and  the  field  of 
consciousness  remade.  She  "knew  in  an  instant  that  which 
words  cannot  express."  Some  veil  about  her  heart  was  torn 
away ;  so  abruptly,  that  it  left  a  wound  behind.  For  the  first 
time  she  saw  and  knew  the  Love  in  which  life  is  bathed ;  and 
all  the  energy  and  passion  of  a  strong  nature  responded  to 
its  call. 

The  conversion  of  Madame  Guyon  to  the  mystic  life,  as 
told  by  herself  in  the  eighth  chapter  of  part  i.  of  her  auto- 
biography— "  How  a  holy  Religious  caused  her  to  find  God 
within  her  heart,  with  Admirable  Results,"  is  its  characteristic 
title — is  curiously  like  a  dilute  version  of  this  experience  of 
St.  Catherine's.  It,  too,  followed  upon  a  period  of  great  mental 
distress  ;  also  the  result  of  an  uncongenial  marriage.  But  since 
Madame  Guyon's   rather  unbalanced,  diffuse,  and  sentimental 

1  "  Vita  e  Dottrina  di  Santa  Caterina  da  Genova,"  cap.  ii. 

a  Von^Hugel,  "  The  Mystical  Element  of  Religion,"  vol.  ii.  p.  29. 


THE  AWAKENING  OP  THE  SELF  221 

character  lacks  the  richness  and  dignity,  the  repressed  ardours 
and  exquisite  delicacy  of  St.  Catherine's  mind,  so,  too,  her 
account  of  her  own  interior  processes  is  too  often  marred  by  a 
terrible  and  unctuous  interest  in  the  peculiar  graces  vouchsafed 
to  her.1 

Madame  Guyon's  value  to  the  student  of  mysticism  consists 
largely  in  this  feeble  quality  of  her  surface-intelligence,  which 
hence  had  little  or  no  modifying  or  contributory  effect  upon  her 
spiritual  life.  True  to  her  own  great  principle  of  passivity  or 
"  quiet,"  it  lets  the  interior  impulses  have  their  way ;  and  thus 
we  are  able  in  her  case  to  observe  their  workings  with  unusual 
ease,  uncomplicated  by  the  presence  of  a  vigorous  intellect 
or  a  disciplined  will.  The  wind  that  bloweth  where  it  listeth 
whistles  through  her  soul :  and  the  response  which  she  makes 
is  that  of  a  weathercock  rather  than  a  windmill.  She  moves 
to  every  current ;  she  often  mistakes  a  draught  for  the  divine 
breath ;  she  feels  her  gyrations  to  be  of  enormous  importance. 
But  when  it  comes  to  the  description  of  her  awakening  to  the 
deeper  life,  a  genuine  intensity  of  feeling  endows  even  her 
effusive  style  with  a  certain  dignity. 

Madame  Guyon  had  from  her  childhood  exhibited  an  almost 
tiresome  taste  for  pious  observances.  At  twelve  years  old  she 
studied  St.  Francois  de  Sales  and  St.  Jeanne  Francoise  de 
Chantal ;  begged  her  confessor  to  teach  her  the  art  of  mental 
prayer ;  and  when  he  omitted  to  do  so,  tried  to  teach  herself, 
but  without  result.2  She  wished  at  this  time  to  become  a  nun 
in  Madame  de  Chantal's  Order  of  the  Visitation,  as  St.  Catherine 
at  the  same  age  wanted  to  be  an  Augustinian  canoness  ;  but  as 
the  longings  of  little  girls  of  twelve  for  the  cloister  are  seldom 
taken  seriously,  we  are  not  surprised  to  find  the  refusal  of  her 
parents'   consent   chronicled   in   the   chapter  which  is   headed 

1  It  is  clear  from  the  heading  of  cap.  x.  (pt.  i.)  of  her  Autobiography  that 
Madame  Guyon's  editors  were  conscious,  if  she  was  not,  of  at  least  some  of  the 
extraordinary  coincidences  between  her  experiences  and  those  of  St.  Catherine  of 
Genoa.  The  parallel  between  their  early  years  in  particular  is  so  exact  and  descends 
to  such  minute  details  that  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  the  knowledge  of  this  resem- 
blance, and  the  gratification  with  which  she  would  naturally  regard  it,  has  governed 
or  modified  some  at  any  rate  amongst  her  memories  of  this  past.  Such  modifications, 
probably  involuntary,  have  resulted  in  a  curious  and  hitherto  unnoticed  case  of 
u  unconscious  spiritual  plagiarism." 

8  Vie,  pt.  i.  cap.  iv. 


222  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

"  Diverses  croix  chez  M.  son  pkre."  Growing  up  into  an  unusually 
beautiful  young  woman,  she  went  into  society,  and  for  a  short 
time  enjoyed  life  in  an  almost  worldly  way.  Her  marriage 
with  Jacques  Guyon,  however — a  marriage  of  which  she  signed 
the  articles  without  even  being  told  the  bridegroom's  name — 
put  an  end  to  her  gaiety.  "The  whole  town  was  pleased  by 
this  marriage  ;  and  in  all  this  rejoicing  only  I  was  sad  .  .  . 
hardly  was  I  married,  when  the  remembrance  of  my  old  desire 
to  be  a  nun  overcame  me."1 

Her  early  married  life  in  her  mother-in-law's  house  was 
excessively  unhappy.  She  was  soon  driven  to  look  for  com- 
fort in  the  practices  of  religion.  "  Made  to  love  much,  and 
finding  nothing  to  love  around  her,  she  gave  her  love  to  God/ 
says  Guerrier  tersely.2  But  she  was  not  satisfied :  like  most 
of  her  fellow-contemplatives,  she  was  already  vaguely  con- 
scious of  something  that  she  missed,  some  vital  power  unused, 
and  identified  this  something  with  the  "  orison  of  quiet," 
the  "  practice  of  the  presence  of  God "  which  mystically 
minded  friends  had  described  to  her.  She  tried  to  attain  to 
:■  it  deliberately,  and  naturally  failed.  "  I  could  not  give  myself 
by  multiplicity  that  which  Thou  Thyself  givest,  and  which  is 
only  experienced  in  simplicity."  3 

When  these  interior  struggles  had  lasted  for  nearly  two 
years,  and  Madame  Guyon  was  nineteen,  the  long  desired, 
almost  despaired  of,  apprehension  came — as  it  did  to  St. 
Catherine — suddenly,  magically  almost ;  and  under  curiously 
parallel  conditions.  It  was  the  result  of  a  few  words  spoken 
by  a  Franciscan  friar  whom  a  "secret  force"  acting  in  her 
interest  had  brought  into  the  neighbourhood,  and  whom  she 
had  been  advised  to  consult.  He  was  a  recluse,  who  disliked 
hearing  the  confessions  of  women,  and  appears  to  have  been 
far  from  pleased  by  her  visit ;  an  annoyance  which  he  after- 
wards attributed  to  her  fashionable  appearance,  "which  filled 
him  with  apprehension."  "  He  hardly  came  forward,  and  was 
a  long  time  without  speaking  to  me.  I,  however,  did  not  fail 
to  speak  to  him  and  to  tell  him  in  a  few  words  my  difficulties 
on  the  subject  of  orison.  He  at  once  replied,  '  Madame,  you 
are  seeking  without  that  which  you  have  within.     Accustom 

1  Op.  cit.t  pt.  i.  cap.  vi.  8  "  Madame  Guyon,"  p.  36. 

3  Vie,  pt.  i.  cap.  viii. 


THE  AWAKENING  OF  THE  SELF  223 

yourself  to  seek  God  in  your  own  heart,  and  you  will  find 
Him.'  Having  said  this,  he  left  me.  The  next  morning  he 
was  greatly  astonished  when  I  again  visited  him  and  told  him 
the  effect  which  these  words  had  had  upon  my  soul :  for,  indeed, 
they  were  as  an  arrow,  which  pierced  my  heart  through  and 
through.  I  felt  in  this  moment  a  profound  wound^  which  was 
full  of  delight  and  of  love — a  wound  so  sweet  that  I  desired 
that  it  might  never  heal.  These  words  had  put  into  my  heart 
that  which  I  sought  for  so  many  years,  or,  rather,  they  caused 
me  to  find  that  which  was  there.  O,  my  Lord,  you  were  within 
my  heart,  and  you  asked  of  me  only  that  I  should  return  within, 
in  order  that  I  might  feel  your  presence.  O,  Infinite  Goodness, 
you  were  so  near,  and  I,  running  here  and  there  to  seek  you, 
found  you  not ! "  She,  too,  like  St.  Catherine,  learned  in  this 
instant  the  long-sought  practice  of  orison,  or  contemplation. 
"From  the  moment  of  which  I  have  spoken,  my  orison  was 
emptied  of  all  form,  species,  and  images  ;  nothing  of  my  orison 
passed  through  the  mind  ;  but  it  was  an  orison  of  joyous 
possession  in  the  Will,  where  the  taste  for  God  was  so  great, 
pure,  and  simple  that  it  attracted  and  absorbed  the  two  other 
powers  of  the  soul  in  a  profound  recollection  without  action 
or  speech."1 

Take  now  the  case  of  a  less  eminent  but  not  less  genuine 
mystic,  who  has  also  left  behind  him  a  vivid  personal  description 
of  his  entrance  upon  the  Mystic  Way.  Rulman  Merswin  was  a 
wealthy,  pious,  and  respected  merchant  of  Strassburg.  In  the 
year  1347,  when  he  was  about  thirty-six  years  old,  he  retired 
from  business  in  order  that  he  might  wholly  devote  himself  to 
religious  matters.  It  was  the  time  of  that  spiritual  revival 
within  the  Catholic  Church  in  Germany  which,  largely  in- 
fluenced by  the  great  Rhenish  mystics  Suso  and  Tauler,  is 
identified  with  the  "  Friends  of  God  "  ;  and  Merswin  himself 
was  one  of  Tauler's  disciples.2 

One  evening,  in  the  autumn  which  followed  his  retirement, 
"  about  the  time  of  Martinmas,"  he  was  strolling  in  his  garden 
alone.     Meditating    as  he   walked,  a   picture  of  the   Crucifix 

1  Op.  cit.t  loc.cit. 

9  One  of  the  best  English  accounts  of  this  movement  and  the  great  personalities 
concerned  in  it  will  be  found  in  Rufus  Jones,  "  Studies  in  Mystical  Religion," 
cap.  xiii. 


224  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

suddenly  presented  itself  to  his  mind.  In  such  an  imaginary- 
vision  as  this  there  is  nothing,  of  course,  that  can  be  called 
in  the  least  degree  abnormal.  The  thoughts  of  a  devout 
Catholic,  much  under  the  influence  of  Tauler  and  his  school, 
must  often  have  taken  such  a  direction  during  his  solitary  strolls. 
This  time,  however,  the  mental  image  of  the  Cross  seems 
to  have  given  the  needed  stimulus  to  subconscious  forces 
which  had  long  been  gathering  way.  Merswin  was  abruptly 
filled  with  a  violent  hatred  of  the  world  and  of  his  own  free-will. 
"  Lifting  his  eyes  to  heaven  he  solemnly  swore  that  he  would 
utterly  surrender  his  own  will,  person,  and  goods  to  the  service 
of  God."  i 

This  act  of  complete  surrender,  releasing  as  it  were  the 
earthbound  self,  was  at  once  followed  by  the  onset  of  pure 
mystical  perception.  "  The  reply  from  on  high  came  quickly. 
A  brilliant  light  shone  about  him  :  he  heard  in  his  ears  a  divine 
voice  of  adorable  sweetness  ;  he  felt  as  if  he  were  lifted  from  the 
ground  and  carried  several  times  completely  round  his  garden."  2 
Optical  disturbance,  auditions,  and  the  sense  of  levitation,  are 
of  course  well-marked  physical  accompaniments  of  these  shift- 
ings  of  the  level  of  consciousness.  There  are  few  cases  in 
which  one  or  other  is  not  present ;  and  in  some  we  find  all. 
Coming  to  himself  after  this  experience,  Merswin's  heart  was 
filled  by  a  new  consciousness  of  the  Divine,  and  by  a  transport 

1  A.  Jundt,  "  Rulman  Merswin,"  p.  19.  M.  Jundt  has  condensed  his  account, 
which  I  here  translate,  from  Merswin's  a'utobiographical  story  of  his  conversion, 
published  in  Beitrdge  zu  den  theologischen  Wissenschaften,  v.  (Jena,  1854).  Our 
whole  knowledge  of  Merswin's  existence  depends  on  the  group  of  documents  which 
includes  this  confession,  the  "Book  of  Two  Men,"  the  "Vision  of  Nine  Rocks," 
and  his  other  reputed  works.  The  authenticity  of  these  documents  has  been  much 
questioned  of  recent  years,  and  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  they  have  suffered 
severely  from  the  editorial  energy  of  his  followers.  Some  critics  go  so  far  as  to 
regard  them  as  pious  fictions  useless  as  evidence  of  the  incidents  of  Merswin  life.  With 
this  view,  which  is  upheld  by  Karl  Reider  (Der  Gottesfreund  von  Oberland,  1905),  I 
cannot  agree.  The  best  solution  of  the  many  difficulties  seems  to  me  to  be  that 
involved  in  the  brilliant  hypothesis  of  M.  Jundt,  who  believes  that  we  have  in  Merswin 
and  the  mysterious  "  Friend  of  God  of  the  Oberland,"  who  pervades  his  spiritual 
career,  a  remarkable  case  of  dissociated  personality.  Merswin's  peculiar  psychic 
make-up,  as  described  in  his  autobiography,  supports  this  view :  the  adoption 
of  which  I  shall  take  for  granted  in  future  references  to  his  life.  It  is  incredible 
to  me  that  the  vivid  account  of  his  conversion  which  I  quote  should  be  merely 
"tendency-literature,"  without  basis  in  fact.  Compare  Jundt's  monograph,  and 
also  Rufus  Jones,  op.  cit.  pp.  245-253,  where  the  whole  problem  is  discussed. 

a  Jundt,  op.  cit.,  loc.  cit. 


THE  AWAKENING  OF  THE  SELF  225 

of  intense  love  towards  God  which  made  him  undertake  with 
great  energy  the  acts  of  mortification  which  he  believed 
necessary  to  the  purification  of  his  soul.  From  this  time 
onwards,  his  mystical  consciousness  steadily  developed.  That 
it  was  a  consciousness  wholly  different  in  kind  from  the  sincere 
piety  which  had  previously  caused  him  to  retire  from  business 
in  order  to  devote  himself  to  religious  truth,  is  proved  by 
the  name  of  Conversion  which  he  applies  to  the  vision  of  the 
garden ;  and  by  the  fact  that'  he  dates  from  this  point  the 
beginning  of  his  real  life. 

The  conversion  of  Merswin's  greater  contemporary,  Suso, 
seems  to  have  been  less  abrupt.  Of  its  first  stage  he  speaks 
vaguely  at  the  beginning  of  his  autobiography,  wherein  he  says 
that  "he  began  to  be  converted  when  in  the  eighteenth  year 
of  his  age."  x  He  was  at  this  time,  as  St.  Francis  had  been, 
restless,  dissatisfied  ;  vaguely  conscious  of  something  essential 
to  his  peace,  as  yet  unfound.  His  temperament,  at  once  deeply 
human  and  ardently  spiritual,  passionately  appreciative  of 
sensuous  beauty  yet  unable  to  rest  in  it,  had  not  "  unified  it- 
self" :  nor  did  it  do  so  completely  until  after  a  period  of  purga- 
tion which  is  probably  unequalled  for  its  austerity  in  the 
history  of  the  mysticism  of  the  West.  "  He  was  kept  of  God  in 
this,  that  when  he  turned  to  those  things  that  most  enticed  him 
he  found  neither  happiness  nor  peace  therein.  He  v/as  restless, 
and  it  seemed  to  him  that  something  which  was  as  yet  un- 
known could  alone  give  peace  to  his  heart.  And  he  suffered 
greatly  of  this  restlessness.  .  .  .  God  at  last  delivered  him  by 
a  complete  conversion.  His  brothers  in  religion  were  astonished 
by  so  quick  a  change:  for  the  event  took  them  unawares. 
Some  said  of  it  one  thing,  and  some  another :  but  none  could 
know  the  reason  of  his  conversion.  It  was  God  Who,  by  a 
hidden  light,  had  caused  this  return  to  Himself."  2 

This  secret  conversion  was  completed  by  a  more  violent 
uprush  of  the  now  awakened  and  active  transcendental  powers. 
Suso,  whom  one  can  imagine  as  a  great  and  highly  nervous 
artist  if  his   genius  had   not  taken   the   channel   of  sanctity 

*  "  Leben  und  Schriften "  (Diepenbrock),  cap.  i.  Suso's  autobiography  is 
written  in  the  third  person.  He  refers  to  himself  throughout  under  the  title  of 
"Servitor  of  the  Eternal  Wisdom." 

2  Op.  cit.,  loc.  cit. 


226  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

instead,  was  subject  all  his  life  to  visions  of  peculiar  richness 
and  beauty.  Often  enough  these  visions  seem  to  have  floated 
up,  as  it  were,  from  the  subliminal  region  without  disturbing 
the  course  of  his  conscious  life ;  and  to  be  little  more  than 
sharply  visualized  expressions  of  his  ardour  towards  and  intui- 
tion of,  divine  realities.  The  great  ecstatic  vision — or  rather 
apprehension,  for  there  is  nothing  material  about  it — -with  which 
the  series  opens,  however,  is  of  a  very  different  kind  ;  and 
represents  the  characteristic  experience  of  Ecstasy  in  its  fullest 
form.  It  is  described  with  a  detail  and  intensity  which  make  it 
a  particularly  valuable  document  of  the  mystical  life.  It  is 
doubtful  whether  Suso  ever  saw  more  than  this  :  the  course 
of  his  long  education  rather  consisted  in  an  adjustment  of 
his  nature  to  the  Reality  which  he  then  perceived. 

"  In  the  first  days  of  his  conversion  it  happened  upon 
the  Feast  of  St.  Agnes,  when  the  Convent  had  breakfasted 
at  midday,  that  the  Servitor  went  into  the  choir.  He  was 
alone,  and  he  placed  himself  in  the  last  stall  on  the  prior's  side. 
And  he  was  in  much  suffering,  for  a  heavy  trouble  weighed 
upon  his  heart.  And  being  there  alone,  and  devoid  of  all 
consolations' — no  one  by  his  side,  no  one  near  him — of  a  sudden 
his  soul  was  rapt  in  his  body,  or  out  of  his  body.  Then  did 
he  see  and  hear  that  which  no  tongue  can  express. 

"That  which  the  Servitor  saw  had  no  form  neither  any  manner 
of  being  ;  yet  he  had  of  it  a  joy  such  as  he  might  have  known 
in  the  seeing  of  the  shapes  and  substances  of  all  joyful  things. 
His  heart  was  hungry,  yet  satisfied,  his  soul  was  full  of  content- 
ment and  joy  :  his  prayers  and  hopes  were  all  fulfilled.  And 
the  Friar  could  do  naught  but  contemplate  this  Shining  Bright- 
ness ;  and  he  altogether  forgot  himself  and  all  other  things. 
Was  it  day  or  night  ?  He  knew  not.  It  was,  as  it  were,  a 
manifestation  of  the  sweetness  of  Eternal  Life  in  the  sensations  of 
silence  and  of  rest.  Then  he  said,  '  If  that  which  I  see  and  feel 
be  not  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven,  I  know  not  what  it  can  be  :  for 
it  is  very  sure  that  the  endurance  of  all  possible  pains  were  but 
a  poor  price  to  pay  for  the  eternal  possession  of  so  great  a  joy.' " 

The  physical  accompaniments  of  ecstasy  were  also  present. 
"  This  ecstasy  lasted  from  half  an  hour  to  an  hour,  and  whether 
his  soul  were  in  the  body  or  out  of  the  body  he  could  not  tell. 
But  when  he  came  to  his  senses  it  seemed  to  him  that  he 


THE   AWAKENING  OF  THE  SELF  227 

returned  from  another  world.  And  so  greatly  did  his  body 
suffer  in  this  short  rapture  that  it  seemed  to  him  that  none, 
even  in  dying,  could  suffer  so  greatly  in  so  short  a  time.  The 
Servitor  came  to  himself  moaning,  and  he  fell  down  upon  the 
ground  like  a  man  who  swoons.  And  he  cried  inwardly,  heaving 
great  sighs  from  the  depth  of  his  soul  and  saying,  '  Oh,  my  God, 
where  was  I  and  where  am  I  ?  *  And  again,  '  Oh,  my  heart's 
joy,  never  shall  my  soul  forget  this  hour  ! '  He  walked,  but  it 
was  but  his  body  that  walked,  as  a  machine  might  do.  None 
knew  from  his  demeanour  that  which  was  taking  place  within. 
But  his  soul  and  his  spirit  were  full  of  marvels  ;  heavenly 
lightnings  passed  and  repassed  in  the  deeps  of  his  being,  and 
it  seemed  to  him  that  he  walked  on  air.  And  all  the  powers  of 
his  soul  were  full  of  these  heavenly  delights.  He  was  like  a 
vase  from  which  one  has  taken  a  precious  ointment,  but  in 
which  the  perfume  long  remains." 

Finally,  the  last  phrases  of  the  chapter  seem  to  suggest  the 
true  position  of  this  exalted  pleasure-state  as  a  first  link  in  the 
long  chain  of  mystical  development.  "This  foretaste  of  the 
happiness  of  heaven,"  he  says,  "  the  which  the  Servitor  enjoyed 
for  many  days,  excited  in  him  a  most  lively  desire  for  God." * 

Mystical  activity,  then,  like  all  other  activities  of  the  self, 
opens  with  that  sharp  stimulation  of  the  will  which  can  only  be 
obtained  through  the  emotional  life. 

Suso  was  a  scholar,  and  an  embryo  ecclesiastic.  During  the 
period  which  elapsed  between  his  conversion  and  his  description 
of  it  he  was  a  disciple  of  Meister  Eckhart,  a  student  of  Dionysius 
and  St.  Thomas  Aquinas.  His  writings  show  familiarity  with 
the  categories  of  mystical  theology ;  and  naturally  enough  this 
circumstance,  and  also  the  fact  that  they  were  written  for  pur- 
poses of  edification,  may  have  dictated  to  some  extent  the 
language  in  which  his  conversion-ecstasy  is  described. 

As  against  this,  I  will  give  two  first-hand  descriptions  of 
mystical  conversion  in  which  it  is  obvious  that  theological 
learning  plays  little  or  no  part.  Both  written  in  France  within 
a  few  years  of  one  another,  they  represent  the  impact  of  Reality 
on  two  minds  of  very  different  calibre.  One  is  the  secret  docu- 
ment in  which  a  great  genius  set  down,  in  words  intended  only 
for  his  own  eyes,  the  record  of  a  two  hours'  ecstasy.     The  other 

1  Leben,  cap.  iii. 


228  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

is  the  plain,  unvarnished  statement  of  an  uneducated  man  of  the 
peasant  class.  The  first  is,  of  course,  the  celebrated  Memorial, 
or  Amulet,  of  Pascal ;  the  second  is  the  Relation  of  Brother 
Lawrence. 

The  Memorial  of  Pascal  is  a  scrap  of  parchment  on  which, 
round  a  rough  drawing  of  the  Flaming  Cross,  there  are  written 
a  few  strange  phrases,  abrupt  and  broken  words  ;  the  only  news 
which  has  come  to  us  concerning  one  of  the  strangest  ecstatic 
revelations  chronicled  in  the  history  of  the  mystic  type.  After 
Pascal's  death  a  servant  found  a  copy  of  this  little  document, 
now  lost,  sewn  up  in  his  doublet,  He  seems  always  to  have 
worn  it  upon  his  person :  a  perpetual  memorial  of  the  supernal 
experience,  the  initiation  into  Reality,  which  it  describes. 
Beyond  what  we  can  deduce  from  these  few  lines,  we  have  no 
direct  knowledge  of  the  processes  of  Pascal's  inner  life :  but  we 
do  know  that  this  abrupt  illumination  came  at  the  end  of  a  long 
period  of  spiritual  distress,  in  which  indifference  to  his  ordinary 
interests  was  counterbalanced  by  an  utter  inability  to  feel  the 
attractive  force  of  that  Divine  Reality  which  his  great  mind  dis- 
cerned as  the  only  adequate  object  of  desire. 

The  Memorial  opens  thus : — 


"  L'an  de  grace  1654 

lundi,  23  novembre,  jour  de  Saint  Clement,  pape 

et  martyr,  et  autres  au  martyrologe, 

veille  de  Saint  Chrysogone,  martyr  et  autres, 

depuis  environ  dix  heures  et  demie  du  soir  jusques 

environ  minuit  et  demie, 

Feu." 


f  "  From  half-past  ten  till  half-past  twelve,  Fire ! "  That  is  all, 
so  far  as  description  is  concerned ;  but  enough,  apparently,  to 
remind  the  initiate  of  all  that  passed.  The  rest  tells  us  only 
the  passion  of  joy  and  conviction  which  this  nameless  revelation 
— this  long,  blazing  vision  of  Reality — brought  in  its  train.  It 
is  but  a  series  of  amazed  exclamations,  crude,  breathless 
words,  placed  there  helter-skelter,  the  artist  in  him  utterly  in 
abeyance;  the  names  of  the  overpowering  emotions  which 
swept  him,  one  after  the  other,  as  the  Fire  of  Love  disclosed 
its  secrets,  evoked  an  answering  flame  of  humility  and  rapture 
in  his  soul. 


THE  AWAKENING  OF  THE  SELF  229 

"  Dieu  d' Abraham,  Dieu  d' Isaac,  Dieu  de  Jacob, 
Non  des  philosophes  et  des  savants. 
Certitude.     Certitude.     Sentiment.     Joie.     Paix." 

"  Not  the  God  of  philosophers  and  of  scholars ! "  cries  in 
amazement  this  great  scholar  and  philosopher  abruptly  turned 
from  knowledge  to  love. 

"Oubli  du  monde  et  de  tout  hormis  Dieu,"  he  says  again, 
seeing  his  universe  suddenly  swept  clean  of  all  but  this  Tran- 
scendent Fact.  Then,  "  Le  monde  ne  t'a  point  connu,  maisje  tai 
connu.  Joie!  joie!  joie!  pleurs  de  joie!"  Compare  with  the 
classic  style,  the  sharp  and  lucid  definition  of  the  "  Pensees,"  the 
irony  and  glitter  of  the  "Provinciales,"  these  little  broken  phrases 
— this  child-like  stammering  speech — in  which  a  supreme  master 
of  language  has  tried  to  tell  his  wonder  and  his  delight.  I  know 
few  things  in  the  history  of  mysticism  at  once  more  convincing, 
more  poignant  than  this  hidden  talisman ;  upon  which  the 
brilliant  scholar  and  stylist,  the  merciless  disputant,  has  jotted 
down  in  hard,  crude  words,  which  yet  seem  charged  with  passion 
— the  inarticulate  language  of  love — a  memorial  of  the  certitude, 
the  peace,  the  joy,  above  all,  the  reiterated,  all-surpassing  joy, 
which  accompanied  his  ecstatic  apprehension  of  God. 

"  Mon  Dieu,  me  quitterez  vous  ? "  he  says  again  ;  the  fire 
apparently  beginning  to  die  down,  the  ecstasy  drawing  to  an 
end.  "  Que  je  n'en  sois  pas  s£pard  £ternellement ! "  "  Are 
you  going  to  leave  me?  Oh,  let  me  not  be  separated  from 
you  for  ever ! " — the  one  unendurable  thought  which  would, 
said  Aquinas,  rob  the  Beatific  Vision  of  its  glory  were  we  not 
sure  that  it  can  never  fade.1  But  the  rhapsody  is  over,  the 
vision  of  the  Fire  has  gone;  and  the  rest  of  the  Memorial 
clearly  contains  Pascal's  meditations  upon  his  experience, 
rather  than  a  transcript  of  the  experience  itself.  It  ends  with 
the  watchword  of  all  mysticism,  Surrender — "  Renonciation, 
totale  et  douce  "  in  Pascal's  words :  the  only  way,  he  thinks,  in 
which  he  can  avoid  continued  separation  from  Reality.2 

Pascal's  long  vision  of  Light,  Life,  and  Love  was  highly 
ecstatic ;    an  indescribable,  incommunicable  experience,  which 

1  "Summa  Contra  Gentiles,"  1.  iii.  cap.  lxii. 

2  The  complete  text  of  the  "  Memorial"  is  printed,  among  other  places,  in 
Faugere's  edition  of  the  "  Pensees,  Fragments  et  Lettres  de  Blaise  Pascal,"  2nd  ed., 
Paris,  1897.     Tome  i.  p.  269. 


230  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

can  only  be  suggested  by  his  broken  words  of  certitude  and  joy. 
By  his  simple  contemporary,  Brother  Lawrence,  that  Tran- 
scendent Reality  Who  "is  not  the  God  of  philosophers  and 
scholars,"  was  perceived  in  a  moment  of  abrupt  intuition, 
peculiarly  direct,  unecstatic  and  untheological  in  type,  but 
absolutely  enduring  in  its  results.  Lawrence  was  an  uneducated 
young  man  of  the  peasant  class,  who  first  served  as  a  soldier, 
and  afterwards  as  a  footman  in  a  great  French  family,  where  he 
annoyed  his  masters  by  breaking  everything.  When  he  was 
between  fifty  and  sixty  years  of  age,  he  entered  the  Carmelite 
Order  as  a  lay  brother ;  and  the  letters,  "  spiritual  maxims,"  and 
conversations  belonging  to  this  period  of  his  life  were  published 
after  his  death  in  1691.  "He  told  me,"  says  the  anonymous 
reporter  of  the  conversations,  supposed  to  be  M.  Beaufort,  who 
was  about  1660  Grand  Vicar  to  the  Cardinal  de  Noailles,  "that 
God  had  done  him  a  singular  favour  in  his  conversion  at  the 
age  of  eighteen.  That  in  the  winter,  seeing  a  tree  stripped  of 
its  leaves,  and  considering  that  within  a  little  time  the  leaves 
would  be  renewed,  and  after  that  the  flowers  and  fruit  appear, 
he  received  a  high  view  of  the  Providence  and  Power  of  God, 
which  has  never  since  been  effaced  from  his  souL  That  this 
view  had  set  him  perfectly  loose  from  the  world  and  kindled  in 
him  such  a  love  for  God  that  he  could  not  tell  whether  it  had 
increased  in  above  forty  years  that  he  had  lived  since."  x 

Such  use  of  visible  nature  as  the  stuff  of  ontological  per- 
ceptions, the  medium  whereby  the  self  reaches  out  to  the 
Absolute,  is  not  rare  in  the  history  of  mysticism.  The 
mysterious,  primordial  vitality  of  trees  and  woods,  instinct  with 
energy,  yet  standing,  as  it  were,  upon  the  borderland  of  dream, 
appears — we  know  not  why — to  be  particularly  adapted  to  it. 
The  silent  magic  of  the  forest,  the  strange  and  steady  cycle  of 
its  life,  possesses  in  a  peculiar  degree  this  power  of  unleashing 
the  human  scul :  is  curiously  friendly  to  its  cravings,  ministers  to 
its  inarticulate  needs.  Unsullied  by  the  corroding  touch  of 
consciousness,  that  life  can  make  a  contact  with  the  "  great  life 
of  the  All "  ;  and  through  its  mighty  rhythms  man  can  receive 
a  message  concerning  the  true  and  timeless  World  of  "  all  that  is, 
and  was,  and  evermore  shall  be."  Plant  life  of  all  kinds,  indeed, 
from  the  "  flower   in   the   crannied    wall "   to   the  "  Woods   of 

1  Brother  Lawrence,  "The  Practice  of  the  Presence  of  God,"  p.  9. 


THE  AWAKENING  OF  THE   SELF  231 

Westermain  "  can  easily  become,  for  selves  of  a  certain  type,  a 
"mode  of  the  Infinite."  So  obvious  does  this  appear  when  we 
study  the  history  of  the  mystics,  that  Steiner  has  seen  fit  to 
draw  from  it  the  hardly  warrantable  inference  that  "  plants 
are  just  those  natural  phenomena  whose  qualities  in  the  higher 
world  are  similar  to  their  qualities  in  the  physical  world."  J 

Though  the  conclusion  be  not  convincing,  the  fact  remains. 
The  flowery  garment  of  the  world  is  for  some  mystics  a  medium 
of  ineffable  perception,  a  source  of  exalted  joy,  the  veritable 
clothing  of  God.  I  need  hardly  add  that  such  a  state  of  things 
has  always  been  found  incredible  by  common  sense.  "  The  tree 
which  moves  some  to  tears  of  joy,"  says  Blake,  who  possessed 
in  an  eminent  degree  tru's  form  of  sacramental  perception,  "  is 
in  the  Eyes  of  others  only  a  green  thing  that  stands  in  the 
Way."  = 

Such  a  perception  of  the  Divine  in  Nature,  of  the  true  and 
holy  meaning  of  that  rich,  unresting  life  in  which  we  are  immersed, 
is  really  a  more  usual  feature  of  Illumination  than  of  Conversion. 
All  the  most  marked  examples  of  it  must  be  referred  to  that 
state  ;  and  will  be  discussed  when  we  come  to  its  consideration. 
Sometimes,  however,  as  in  the  case  of  Brother  Lawrence,  the 
first  awakening  of  the  self  to  consciousness  of  Reality  does  take 
this  form.  The  Uncreated  Light  manifests  Itself  in  and  through 
created  things.  This  characteristically  immanental  discovery 
of  the  Absolute  occurs  chiefly  in  two  classes  :  in  unlettered  men 
who  have  lived  close  to  Nature,  and  to  whom  her  symbols  are 
more  familiar  than  those  of  the  Churches  or  the  schools,  and  in 
temperaments  of  the  mixed  or  mystical  type,  who  are  nearer  to 
the  poet  than  to  the  true  contemplative,  for  whom  as  a  rule  the 
Absolute  "  hath  no  image."  "  It  was  like  entering  into  another 
world,  a  new  state  of  existence,"  says  a  witness  quoted  by 
Starbuck,  speaking  of  his  own  conversion.  "  Natural  objects 
were  glorified.  My  spiritual  vision  was  so  clarified  that  I  saw 
beauty  in  every  material  object  in  the  universe.  The  woods 
were  vocal  with  heavenly  music."  "  Oh,  how  I  was  changed ! 
Everything  became  new.  My  horses  and  hogs  and  everybody 
became  changed  !  "  exclaims  with  narve  astonishment  another  in 
the  same  collection.3     "When  I  went  in  the  morning  into  the 

■  "The  Way  of  Initiation,"  p.  134.  2  *  Letters  of  William  Blake,"  p.  62. 

3  •«  The  Psychology  of  Religion,"  p.  120. 


232  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

fields  to  work,"  says  a  third,  "  the  glory  of  God  appeared  in  all 
His  visible  creation.  I  well  remember  we  reaped  oats,  and  how 
every  straw  and  head  of  the  oats  seemed,  as  it  were,  arrayed  in 
a  kind  of  rainbow  glory,  or  to  glow,  if  I  may  so  express  it,  in 
the  glory  of  God."  ■ 

Amongst  modern  men,  Walt  Whitman  possessed  in  a 
supreme  degree  the  permanent  sense  of  this  glory,  the  "  light 
rare,  untellable,  lighting  the  very  light."  2  But  evidences  of  its 
existence  and  the  sporadic  power  of  apprehending  it  are 
scattered  up  and  down  the  literature  of  the  world.  Its  dis- 
covery constitutes  the  awakening  of  the  mystical  consciousness 
in  respect  of  the  World  of  Becoming:  a  sharp  and  sudden  break 
with  the  old  and  obvious  way  of  seeing  things.  The  human 
cinematograph  has  somehow  changed  its  rhythm,  and  begins 
to  register  new  and  more  real  aspects  of  the  external  world. 
With  this,  the  self's  first  escape  from  the  limitations  of  its 
conventional  universe,  it  receives  an  immense  assurance  of  a 
great  and  veritable  life  surrounding^  sustaining,  explaining  its 
own.  Thus  Richard  Jefferies  says,  of  the  same  age  as  that  at 
which  Suso  and  Brother  Lawrence  awoke  to  sudden  conscious- 
ness of  Reality,  "  I  was  not  more  than  eighteen  when  an  inner 
and  esoteric  meaning  began  to  come  to  me  from  all  the  visible 
universe."  "  I  now  became  lost,  and  absorbed  into  the  being  or 
existence  of  the  universe  .  .  .  and  losing  thus  my  separateness 
of  being,  came  to  seem  like  a  part  of  the  whole."  "  I  feel  on 
the  margin  of  a  life  unknown,  very  near,  almost  touching  it — on 
the  verge  of  powers  which,  if  I  could  grasp,  would  give  me  an 
immense  breadth  of  existence."  3 

What  was  this  "  life  unknown  "  but  the  Life  known  to  the 
great  mystics,  which  Richard  Jefferies  apprehended  in  these 
moments  of  insight,  yet  somehow  contrived  to  miss  ? 

Such  participation  in  the  deep  realities  of  the  World  of 
Becoming,  the  boundless  existence  of  a  divine  whole — which  a 
modern  psychologist  has  labelled  and  described  as  "Cosmic 
Consciousness  "  4 — whilst  it  is  not  the  final  object  of  the  mystic's 

*  James,  "  Varieties  of  Religious  Experience,"  p.  253.    This  phenomenon  receives 
brilliant  literary  expression  in  John  Masefield's  poem  "The  Everlasting  Mercy  "  (191 1). 

2  Whitman,  "  The  Prayer  of  Columbus." 

3  "  The  Story  of  My  Heart,"  pp.  8,  9,  45,  181. 

4  Bucke,  "Cosmic  Consciousness,  a  Study  in  the  Evolution  of  the  Human  Mind.  ' 
Philadelphia,  1905. 


THE  AWAKENING  OF  THE  SELF  233 

journey,  is  a  constant  feature  of  it.  It  represents  one-half  of  his 
characteristic  consciousness :  an  entrance  into  communion  with 
the  second  of  the  Triune  Powers  of  God,  the  Word  which  "  is 
through  .all  things  everlastingly."  JerTeries  stood,  as  so  many 
mystically  minded  men  have  done,  upon  the  verge  of  such  a 
transcendental  life.  The  "  heavenly  door,"  as  Rolle  calls  it,  was 
ajar  but  not  pushed  wide.  He  peeped  through  it  to  the  greater 
world  beyond ;  but,  unable  to  escape  from  the  bonds  of  his 
selfhood,  he  did  not  pass  through  to  live  upon  the  independent 
spiritual  plane. 

Rolle,  Jefferies's  fellow  countryman,  and  his  predecessor  by 
close  upon  six  hundred  years  in  the  ecstatic  love  and  under- 
standing of  natural  things,  shall  be  our  last  example  of  the 
mystical  awakening.  He,  like  his  spiritual  brother  St.  Francis, 
and  other  typical  cases,  had  passed  through  a  preliminary  period 
of  struggle  and  oscillation  between  worldly  life  and  a  vague  but 
growing  spirituality :  between  the  superficial  and  the  deeper  self. 
"My  youth  was  fond,  my  childhood  vain,  my  young  age 
unclean,"1  but  "when  I  should  flourish  unhappily,  and  youth 
of  wakeful  age  was  now  come,  the  grace  of  my  Maker  was  near, 
the  which  lust  of  temporal  shape  restrained,  and  unto  ghostly 
supplications  turned  my  desires,  and  the  soul,  from  low  things 
lifted,  to  heaven  has  borne."  a 

The  real  "  life-changing,"  however,  was  sharply  and  charac- 
teristically marked  off  from  this  preparatory  state.  Rolle  gives 
to  it  the  name  of  Heat :  as  Song,  to  his  musical  soul,  represents 
Illumination,  and  Sweetness  Untrowed  the  Unitive  Way.  "  Heat 
soothly  I  call  when  the  mind  truly  is  kindled  in  Love  Everlast- 
ing, and  the  heart  on  the  same  manner  to  burn  not  hopingly 
but  verily  is  felt.  The  heart  truly  turned  into  fire,  gives  feeling 
of  burning  love."  This  burning,  it  appears,  is  not  to  be  looked 
upon  as  merely  symbolic.  In  it  we  seem  to  have  an  unusual 
form  of  psycho-physical  parallelism :  a  bodily  expression  of 
the  psychic  travail  and  distress  accompanying  the  "  New  Birth." 
"  More  have  I  marvelled  than  I  show,  forsooth,"  he  says  in  his 
prologue,  "  when  I  first  felt  my  heart  wax  warm,  and  truly,  not 
imaginingly,  but  as  it  were  with  a  sensible  fire,  burned.  I  was 
forsooth  marvelled,  as  this  burning  burst  up  in  my  soul,  and  of 
an  unwonted  solace ;  for  in  my  ignorance  of  such  healing 
1  "  Fire  of  Love,"  bk.  i.  cap.  xiii.  a  Ibid.,  bk.  i.  cap.  xvi. 


234  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

abundance,  oft  have  I  groped  my  breast,  seeing  whether  this 
burning  were  of  any  bodily  cause  outwardly.  But  when  I  knew 
that  only  it  was  kindled  of  ghostly  cause  inwardly,  and  this 
burning  was  naught  of  fleshly  love  or  desire,  in  this  I  conceived 
it  was  the  gift  of  my  Maker."  i  Further  on,  he  gives  another  and 
more  detailed  account.  "  From  the  beginning,  forsooth,  of  my 
life-changing  and  of  my  mind,  to  the  opening  of  the  heavenly 
door  which  Thy  Face  showed,  that  the  heart  might  behold 
heavenly  things  and  see  by  what  way  its  Love  it  might  seek 
and  busily  desire,  three  years  are  run  except  three  months  or 
four.  The  door,  forsooth,  biding  open,  a  year  near-by  I  passed 
unto  the  time  in  which  the  heat  of  Love  Everlasting  was  verily 
felt  in  heart.  I  sat  forsooth  in  a  chapel  and  whilst  with  sweet- 
ness of  prayer  and  meditation  greatly  I  was  delighted,  suddenly 
in  me  I  felt  a  merry  heat  and  unknown.  But  at  first  I 
wondered  doubting  of  whom  it  should  be ;  but  a  long  time  I  am 
assured  that  not  of  the  Creature  but  of  my  Maker  it  was,  for 
more  hot  and  gladder  I  found  it."2 

To  this  we  must  add  a  passage  which  I  cannot  but  think  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  expressions  of  spiritual  joy  to  be  found  in 
mystical  literature.  It  forms,  as  it  were,  a  poetic  gloss  upon  the 
experience  just  described  :  its  sketch  of  the  ideal  mystic  life,  to 
the  cultivation  of  which  he  then  set  himself,  revealing  in  a  few 
lines  the  charm  of  Rolle's  character,  its  simplicity  and  gaiety,  its 
capacity  for  ardent  love.  In  it  we  see  reflected  the  exquisite  and 
Franciscan  candour  of  soul  which  enabled  him  to  live  in  his 
Yorkshire  hermitage,  as  an  earlier  brother  of  the  birds  did  upon 
the  Umbrian  hills,  close  to  nature  and  close  to  God. 

"  In  the  beginning  truly  of  my  conversion  and  singular 
purpose,  I  thought  I  would  be  like  the  little  bird  that  for  love 
of  her  lover  longs,  but  in  her  longing  she  is  gladdened  when  he 
comes  that  she  loves.  And  joying  she  sings,  and  singing  she 
longs,  but  in  sweetness  and  heat.  It  is  said  the  nightingale  to 
song  and  melody  all  night  is  given,  that  she  may  please  him  to 
whom  she  is  joined.  How  muckle  more  with  greatest  sweetness 
to  Christ  my  Jesu  should  I  sing,  that  is  spouse  of  my  soul  by  all 
this  present  life,  that  is  night  in  regard  of  clearness  to  come."  3 

Glancing  back  at  the  few  cases  here  brought  together,  we 

1  "  Fire  of  Love,"  bk.  i.  caps.  xv.  and  i.  2  Ibid.t  bk.  i.  cap.  xvi. 

3  Ibid.,  bk.  ii.  cap.  xii. 


THE  AWAKENING  OF  THE  SELF  235 

can  see  in  them,  I  think,  certain  similarities  and  diversities  which 
are  often  of  great  psychological  interest  and  importance :  and 
which  will  be  found  to  govern  the  subsequent  development  of 
the  mystic  life.  We  see  in  particular  at  this  point,  before  puri- 
fication, or  the  remaking  of  character,  begins,  the  reaction  of  the 
natural  self,  its  heart  and  its  mind,  upon  the  uprush  of  new 
truth  which  operates  "  mystical  conversion."  This  reaction  is 
highly  significant,  and  gives  us  a  clue  not  only  to  the  future 
development  of  the  mystic,  but  to  the  general  nature  of  man's 
spiritual  consciousness. 

We  have  said  »  that  this  consciousness  in  its  full  develop- 
ment seems  to  be  extended  not  in  one  but  in  two  directions. 
These  directions,  these  two  fundamental  ways  of  apprehending 
Reality,  may  be  called  the  Eternal  and  Temporal,  transcendent 
and  immanent,  Absolute  and  dynamic  aspects  of  Truth.  They 
comprise  the  twofold  knowledge  of  a  God  Who  is  both  Being 
and  Becoming,  near  and  far :  pairs  of  opposites  which  ecstasy 
will  carry  up  into  a  higher  synthesis.  But  the  first  awakening 
of  the  mystic  sense,  the  first  breaking  in  of  the  supra-sensible 
upon  the  soul,  will  involve  the  emergence  of  one  only  of  these 
two  complementary  forms  of  perception.  One  side  always 
wakes  first :  the  incoming  message  always  choosing  the  path  of 
least  resistance.  Hence  mystical  conversion  tends  to  belong  to 
one  of  two  distinctive  types :  tends  also  as  regards  its  expres- 
sion to  follow  that  temperamental  inclination  to  objectivize 
Reality  as  a  Place,  a  Person,  or  a  State  which  we  found  to 
govern  the  symbolic  systems  of  the  mystics.2 

There  is  first,  then,  the  apprehension  of  a  splendour  without : 
an  expansive,  formless,  ineffable  vision,  a  snatching  up  of  the 
self,  as  it  were,  from  knowledge  of  this  world  to  some  vague 
yet  veritable  knowledge  of  the  next.  The  veil  parts,  and  the 
Godhead  is  perceived  under  Its  aspect  of  Transcendence.  Not 
the  personal  touch  of  love  transfiguring  the  soul,  but  the  imper- 
sonal glory  of  a  transfigured  universe  is  the  dominant  note  of 
this  experience  :  and  the  reaction  of  the  self  takes  the  form  of 
awe  and  rapture  rather  than  of  intimate  affection.  Of  such  a 
kind  was  the  conversion  of  Suso,  and  in  a  less  degree  of  Brother 
Lawrence.  Of  this  kind  also  were  the  Light  which  Rulman 
Merswin    saw,  and   the    mystical    perception    of   the   being  of 

1  Sutra,  p.  42.  2  Ibid.,  p.  153. 


236  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

the    universe    reported    by    Richard    Jefferies    and    countless 
others. 

This  experience,  if  it  is  to  be  complete,  if  it  is  to  involve  the 
definite  emergence  of  the  self  from  "the  prison  of  I -hood,"  its 
setting  out  upon  the  Mystic  Way,  requires  an  act  of  concentra- 
tion on  the  self's  part  as  the  complement  of  its  initial  act  of 
expansion.  It  must  pass  beyond  the  stage  of  metaphysical 
rapture  or  fluid  splendour,  and  crystallize  into  a  definite  concept, 
a  definite  and  personal  relation  set  up  between  the  self  and  the 
Absolute  Life.  The  vitality  and  efficiency  of  the  conversion 
from  sense  to  spirit,  says  Eucken,  depends  on  the  vividness  of 
the  apprehension  of  the  new  reality  and  on  its  authority  for  life.1 
To  be  a  spectator  of  Reality  is  not  enough.  The  awakened 
subject  is  not  merely  to  perceive  transcendent  life,  but  to  par- 
ticipate therein.  In  Jefferies's  case  this  crystallization,  this  heroic 
effort  towards  participation  did  not  take  place,  and  he  never 
therefore  laid  hold  of  "  the  glory  that  has  been  revealed."  In 
Suso's  it  did,  "  exciting  in  him  a  most  lively  desire  for  God." 

In  most  cases  this  crystallization,  the  personal  and  imperative 
concept  which  the  mind  constructs  from  the  general  and  ineffable 
intuition  of  Reality,  assumes  a  theological  character.  Often  it 
presents  itself  to  the  consciousness  in  the  form  of  visions  or 
voices :  objective,  as  the  Crucifix  which  spoke  to  St.  Francis,  or 
mental,  as  the  visions  of  the  Cross  in  Rulman  Merswin  and  St. 
Catherine  of  Genoa.  Nearly  always,  this  concept,  this  intimate 
realization  of  the  divine,  has  reference  to  the  love  and  sorrow  at 
the  heart  of  things,  the  discord  between  Perfect  Love  and  an 
imperfect  world ;  whereas  the  complementary  vision  of  Tran- 
scendence strikes  a  note  of  rapturous  joy.  "  The  beatings  of  the 
Heart  of  God  sounded  like  so  many  invitations  which  thus 
spake:  Come  and  do  penance,  come  and  be  reconciled,  come 
and  be  consoled,  come  and  be  blessed  ;  come,  My  love,  and 
receive  all  that  the  Beloved  can  give  to  His  beloved.  .  .  .  Come, 
My  bride,  and  enjoy  My  Godhead."  2 

It  is  to  this  personal  touch,  to  the  individual  appeal  of  an 
immediate  Presence,  not  to  the  great  light  and  the  Beatific 
Vision,  that  the  awakened  self  makes  its  most  ardent,  most 
heroic  response.      Not  because  he  was  rapt  from  himself,  but 

1  See  Boyce  Gibson,  "Rudolph  Eucken's  Philosophy,"  p.  85. 

2  St  Mechthild  of  Hackborn,  "  Liber  Specialis  Gratis,"  1.  ii.  cap.  i. 


THE  AWAKENING  OF  THE  SELF  237 

because  the  figure  on  the  Cross  called  him  by  name,  saying, 
"  Repair  My  Church  "  did  St.  Francis,  with  that  simplicity,  that 
disregard  of  worldly  values  which  constituted  his  strength,  accept 
the  message  in  a  literal  sense  and  set  himself  instantly  to  the 
work  demanded ;  bringing  stones,  and,  in  defiance  alike  of 
comfort  and  convention,  building  up  with  his  own  hands  the 
crumbling  walls. 

In  many  conversions  to  the  mystic  life,  the  revelation  of 
an  external  splendour,  the  shining  vision  of  the  transcendent 
spiritual  world,  is  wholly  absent.  The  self  awakes  to  that 
which  is  within,  rather  than  to  that  which  is  without:  to  the 
Immanent  not  the  Transcendent  God,  to  the  personal  not  the 
cosmic  relation.  Where  those  who  look  out  receive  the  revela- 
tion of  Divine  Beauty,  those  who  look  in  receive  rather  the 
wound  of  Divine  Love :  another  aspect  of  the  "  triple  star."  I 
need  not  point  out  that  Richard  Rolle  and  Madame  Guyon  are 
extreme  examples  of  this  type :  but  it  is  seen  in  perhaps  a  more 
balanced  form  in  St.  Catherine  of  Genoa. 

Both  Madame  Guyon  and  St.  Catherine  compare  the  anguish 
and  abruptness  of  that  inward  revelation,  its  rending  apart  of  the 
hard  tissues  of  I-hood  and  its  inevitable  setting  in  relief  of  their 
own  poor  finite  selves,  to  a  wound.  It  is  "the  wound  of  Un- 
measured Love,"  says  the  legend  of  St.  Catherine :  an  image  in 
which  we  seem  to  hear  the  very  accents  of  the  saint.  "  A  wound 
full  of  delight,"  says  the  more  effusive  Frenchwoman,  "  I  wished 
that  it  might  never  heal."  Rolle  calls  this  piercing  rapture  a 
great  heat :  the  heat  which  is  to  light  the  Fire  of  Love.  "  As  it 
were  if  the  finger  were  put  in  fire,  it  should  be  clad  with  feeling 
of  burning :  so  the  soul  with  love  (as  aforesaid)  set  afire,  truly 
feels  most  very  heat." ■ 

Love,  passionate  and  all-dominant,  here  takes  the  place  of 
that  joyous  awe  which  we  noticed  as  the  characteristic  reaction 
upon  reality  in  conversions  of  the  Transcendent  type.  In  the 
deep  and  strong  temperaments  of  the  great  mystics  this  love 
passes  quickly — sometimes  instantly — from  the  emotional  to  the 
volitional  stage.  Their  response  to  the  voice  of  the  Absolute  is 
not  merely  an  effusion  of  sentiment,  but  an  act  of  will :  an  act 
often  of  so  deep  and  comprehensive  a  kind  as  to  involve  the 
complete  change  of  the  outward  no  less  than  of  the  inward  life. 

1  "  The  Fire  of  Love,"  bk.  i.  cap.  i. 


238  AN   INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

"  Divine  love,"  says  Dionysius,  "  draws  those  whom  it  seizes 
beyond  themselves :  and  this  so  greatly  that  they  belong  no 
longer  to  themselves  but  wholly  to  the  Object  loved."  " 

Merswin's  oath  of  self-surrender :  St.  Catherine  of  Genoa's 
passionate  and  decisive  "  No  more  world  !  no  more  sins  ! "  :  St. 
Francis's  naive  and  instant  devotion  to  church-restoration  in  its 
most  literal  sense :  these  things  are  earnests  of  the  reality  of  the 
change.  They  represent — symbolize  as  well  as  they  can  upon 
the  sensual  plane — the  inevitable  response  of  every  living 
organism  to  a  fresh  external  stimulus :  its  adjustment  to  the 
new  conditions  which  that  stimulus  represents.  They  complete 
the  process  of  conversion :  which  is  not  one-sided,  not  merely 
an  infusion  into  the  surface-consciousness  of  new  truth,  but 
rather  the  beginning  of  a  life-process,  a  breaking  down  of  the 
old  and  building  up  of  the  new :  a  never  to  be  ended  give-and- 
take,  now  set  up  between  the  individual  and  the  Absolute.  The 
Spirit  of  Life  has  been  born :  and  the  first  word  it  learns  to  say 
is  Abba>  Father.  It  aspires  to  its  origin ;  to  Life  in  its  most 
intense  manifestation :  hence  all  its  instincts  urge  it  to  that 
activity  which  it  feels  to  be  inseparable  from  life.  It  knows 
itself  a  member  of  that  mighty  family  in  which  the  stars  are 
numbered  :  the  family  of  the  sons  of  God,  who,  free  and  creative, 
sharing  the  rapture  of  a  living,  striving  Cosmos,  "shout  for  joy." 

So,  even  in  its  very  beginning,  we  see  how  active,  how 
profoundly  organic,  how  deeply  and  widely  alive  is  the  true 
contemplative  life ;  how  truly  on  the  transcendent  as  on  the 
phenomenal  plane,  the  law  of  living  things  is  action  and  reaction, 
force  and  energy.  The  awakening  of  the  self  is  to  a  new  and 
more  active  plane  of  being,  new  and  more  personal  relations 
with  Reality;  hence  to  new  and  more  real  work  which  it 
must  do. 

1  Dionysius  the  Areopagite,  "De  Divinis  Nominibus,"  iv.  13. 


CHAPTER    III 

THE   PURIFICATION   OF  THE   SELF 

Purification  the  necessary  corollary  of  conversion — The  Selfs  adjustment  to 
Reality — Cleansing  of  the  powers  of  perception — Acquirement  of  "goodness" — 
Self-knowledge — Contrition — St.  Catherine  of  Genoa  on  Purgatory — Love  the  agent 
of  purification — Purgation  accompanies  the  whole  mystic  life  ;  but  the  Purgative  Way 
is  the  completion  of  conversion — Self-simplification — Cleansing  and  stripping — 
Detachment — Poverty,  Chastity,  and  Obedience :  the  fundamental  mystic  virtues — 
Spiritual  Poverty  :  the  essence  of  liberty — Jacopone  da  Todi  on  Poverty — St.  Francis 
of  Assisi — The  "  Sacrum  Commercium  " — Eckhart  on  Detachment — An  attitude  not  an 
act — Its  various  forms — St.  Teresa — Antoinette  Bourignan — St.  Douceline — Per- 
verted detachment — Mortification — The  positive  aspect  of  Purgation — The  remaking 
of  character — Death  of  the  lower  nature — Once  the  new  life  is  established,  mortifica- 
tion ends — "The  Mirror  of  Simple  Souls" — St.  Catherine  of  Genoa — The  psycho- 
logical aspect  of  mortification — Active  suffering — The  heroic  side  of  purification — 
Tauler — The  conquest  of  fastidiousness — St.  Francis  of  Assisi — Margery  Kempe — St. 
Catherine  of  Genoa — Madame  Guyon — Purgation  essential  to  all  mysticism — Its  last 
stages — The  Game  of  Love — The  fluctuating  transcendental  consciousness — Rulman 
Merswin — The  Passage  from  Purgation  to  Illumination — The  three  factors  of  the 
Purgative  Way — Conclusion 

HERE,  then,  stands  the  newly  awakened  self :  aware,  for 
the  first  time,  of  reality,  responding  to  that  reality  by 
deep  movements  of  love  and  of  awe.  She  sees  herself, 
however,  not  merely  to  be  thrust  into  a  new  world,  but  set  at 
the  beginning  of  a  new  road.  Activity  is  now  to  be  her  watch- 
word, pilgrimage  the  business  of  her  life.  "  That  a  quest  there 
is,  and  an  end,  is  the  single  secret  spoken."  Under  one  symbol 
or  another,  that  long  slow  process  of  transcendence,  of  character 
building,  whereby  she  is  to  attain  freedom,  become  capable  of 
living  upon  high  levels  of  reality,  is  present  in  her  consciousness. 
Those  to  whom  this  secret  is  not  imparted  are  no  mystics,  in 
the  exact  sense  in  which  that  word  is  here  used  ;  however  great 
their  temporary  illumination  may  have  been. 

239 


240  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

What  must  be  the  first  step  of  the  self  upon  this  road  to 
perfect  union  with  the  Absolute?  Clearly,  a  getting  rid  of  all 
those  elements  of  normal  experience  which  are  not  in  harmony 
with  reality  :  of  illusion,  evil,  imperfection  of  every  kind.  By 
false  desires  and  false  thoughts  man  has  built  up  for  himself 
a  false  universe :  as  a  mollusc,  by  the  deliberate  and  persistent 
absorption  of  lime  and  rejection  of  all  else,  can  build  up  for 
itself  a  hard  shell  which  shuts  it  from  the  external  world, 
and  only  represents  in  a  distorted  and  unrecognisable  form  the 
ocean  from  which  it  was  obtained.  This  hard  and  wholly 
unnutritious  shell,  this  one-sided  secretion  of  the  surface- 
consciousness,  makes  as  it  were  a  little  cave  of  illusion  for  each 
separate  soul.  A  literal  and  deliberate  getting  out  of  the  cave 
must  be  for  every  mystic,  as  it  was  for  Plato's  prisoners,  the  first 
step  in  the  individual  hunt  for  reality. 

In  the  plain  language  of  old-fashioned  theology  "man's  sin 
is  stamped  upon  man's  universe."  We  see  a  sham  world 
because  we  live  a  sham  life.  We  do  not  know  ourselves  ;  hence 
do  not  know  the  true  character  of  our  senses ;  hence  attribute 
wrong  values  to  their  suggestions  and  declarations  concerning 
our  relation  to  the  external  world.  That  world,  which  we  have 
distorted  by  identifying  it  with  our  own  self-regarding  arrange- 
ment of  its  elements,  has  got  to  reassume  for  us  the  character  of 
Reality,  of  God.  In  the  purified  sight  of  the  great  mystics  it 
did  reassume  this  character:  their  shells  were  opened  wide, 
they  knew  the  tides  of  the  Eternal  Sea.  This  lucid  apprehen- 
sion of  the  True  is  what  we  mean  when  we  speak  of  the 
Illumination  which  results  from  a  faithful  acceptance  of  the 
trials  of  the  Purgative  Way. 

The  normal  self  as  it  exists  in  the  normal  world — the  *  old 
Adam  "  of  St.  Paul — is  wholly  incapable  of  supersensual  adven- 
ture. All  its  activities  are  grouped  about  a  centre  of  consciousness 
whose  correspondences  are  with  the  material  world.  In  the 
moment  of  its  awakening,  it  is  abruptly  made  aware  of  this 
disability.  It  knows  itself  finite.  It  now  inspires  to  the 
infinite.  It  is  encased  in  the  hard  crust  of  individuality :  it 
aspires  to  union  with  a  larger  self.  It  is  fettered :  it  longs  for 
freedom.  Its  every  sense  is  attuned  to  illusion  :  it  craves  for 
harmony  with  the  Absolute  Truth.  "  God  is  the  only  Reality," 
says  Patmore,  "  and  we  are  real  only  as  far  as  we  are  in  His 


THE  PURIFICATION  OF  THE  SELF  241 

order  and  He  is  in  us."  *  Whatever  form,  then,  the  mystical 
adventure  may  take,  it  must  be  preceded  by  a  change  in  the 
attitude  of  the  subject ;  a  change  which  will  introduce  it  into 
the  order  of  Reality,  and  enable  it  to  set  up  permanent  relations 
with  an  Object  which  is  not  normally  part  of  its  universe. 
Therefore,  though  the  end  of  mysticism  is  not  goodness,  it 
entails  the  acquirement  of  goodness.  The  virtues  are  the 
"ornaments  of  the  spiritual  marriage"  because  that  marriage 
is  union  with  the  Good  no  less  than  with  the  Beautiful  and  the 
True. 

Primarily,  then,  the  self  must  be  purged  of  all  that  stands 
between  it  and  goodness :  putting  on  the  character  of  reality 
instead  of  the  character  of  illusion  or  "  sin."  It  longs  ardently 
to  do  this  from  the  first  moment  in  which  it  sees  itself  in  the 
all-revealing  radiance  of  the  Uncreated  Light.  "When  once 
love  openeth  the  inner  eye  of  the  soul  for  to  see  this  truth," 
says  Hilton,  "  with  other  circumstances  that  attend  it,  then 
beginneth  the  soul  to  be  really  humble  ;  for  then  through  the 
sight  of  God  it  feeleth  and  seeth  itself  as  it  is,  and  then  doth 
the  soul  forsake  the  beholding  and  leaning  upon  itself."2 

So,  with  Dante,  the  first  terrace  of  the  Mount  of  Purgatory 
is  devoted  to  the  cleansing  of  pride  and  the  production  of 
humility.  Such  a  process  is  the  inevitable — one  might  almost 
say  mechanical — result  of  a  vision,  however  fleeting,  of  Reality  ; 
an  undistorted  sight  of  the  earthbound  self.  All  its  life  it  has 
been  measuring  its  candlelight  by  other  candles.  Now  for  the 
first  time  it  is  out  in  the  open  air  and  sees  the  sun.  "  This  is 
the  way,"  said  the  voice  of  God  to  St.  Catherine  of  Siena  in 
ecstasy.  "  If  thou  wilt  arrive  at  a  perfect  knowledge  and  enjoy- 
ment of  Me,  the  Eternal  Truth,  thou  shouldst  never  go  outside 
the  knowledge  of  thyself;  and  by  humbling  thyself  in  the 
valley  of  humility  thou  wilt  know  Me  and  thyself,  from  which 
knowledge  thou  wilt  draw  all  that  is  necessary.  ...  In  self 
knowledge,  then,  thou  wilt  humble  thyself;  seeing  that,  in 
thyself,  thou  dost  not  even  exist."  3 

The  first  thing  that  the  self  observes,  when  it  turns  back 
upon  itself  in  that  moment  of  lucidity — enters,  as  St. 
Catherine    says,    into    "the   cell    of   self-knowledge," — is    the 

1  "The  Rod,  the  Root,  and  the  Flower,"  "  Magna  Moralia,"  xxii. 

3  •'  The  Scale  of  Perfection,"  bk.  Hi.  cap.  vii.  3  Dialogo,  cap.  iv. 

R 


r 


242  AN   INTRODUCTION   TO   MYSTICISM 

horrible  contrast  between  its  clouded  contours  and  the  pure 
sharp  radiance  of  the  Real ;  between  its  muddled  faulty  life, 
its  perverse  self-centred  drifting,  and  the  clear  onward  sweep 
of  that  Becoming  in  which  it  is  immersed.  It  is  then  that 
the  outlook  of  rapture  and  awe  receives  the  countersign  of 
humility.  The  harbinger  of  that  new  self  which  must  be 
born  appears  under  the  aspect  of  a  desire :  a  passionate 
longing  to  escape  from  the  suddenly  perceived  hatefulness  of 
selfhood,  and  to  conform  to  Reality,  the  Perfect  which  it 
has  seen  under  its  aspect  of  Goodness,  of  Beauty,  or  of  Love 
— to  be  worthy  of  it,  in  fact  to  be  real.  "  This  showing," 
says  Gerlac  Petersen  of  that  experience,  "is  so  vehement 
and  so  strong  that  the  whole  of  the  interior  man,  not  only 
of  his  heart  but  of  his  body,  is  marvellously  moved  and 
shaken,  and  faints  within  itself,  unable  to  endure  it.  And 
by  this  means,  his  interior  aspect  is  made  clear  without  any 
cloud,  and  conformable  in  its  own  measure  to  Him  whom  he 
seeks."  x 

The  lives  of  the  mystics  abound  in  instances  of  the 
"  vehemence  of  this  showing " :  of  the  deep-seated  sense  of 
necessity  which  urges  the  newly  awakened  self  to  a  life  of 
discomfort  and  conflict,  often  to  intense  poverty  and  pain,  as 
the  only  way  of  replacing  false  experience  by  true.  Here  the 
transcendental  consciousness,  exalted  by  a  clear  intuition  of  its 
goal,  and  not  merely  "  counting  "  but  perceiving  the  world  to  be 
obviously  well  lost  for  such  a  prize,  takes  the  reins.  It  forces 
on  the  unwilling  surface  mind  a  sharp  vision  of  its  own 
disabilities :  its  ugly  and  imperfect  life. 

The  love  of  Ideal  Beauty  which  is  closely  bound  up  with  the 
mystic  temperament  makes  instant  response.  "  No  more  sins !  " 
was  the  first  cry  of  St.  Catherine  of  Genoa  in  that  crucial  hour 
in  which  she  saw  by  the  light  of  love  the  ugly  and  distorted 
nature  of  her  past.  She  entered  forthwith  upon  the  Purgative 
Way,  in  which  for  four  years  she  suffered  under  a  profound 
sense  of  imperfection,  endured  fasting,  solitude,  and  mortification, 
and  imposed  upon  herself  the  most  repulsive  duties  in  her 
efforts  towards  that  self-conquest  which  should  make  her  "con- 
formable in  her  own  measure  "  to  the  dictates  of  that  Pure  Love 
which  was  the  aspect  of  reality  that  she  had  seen.     It  is  the 

1  "Ignitum  cum  Deo  Soliloquium,"  cap.  xi. 


THE  PURIFICATION   OF  THE  SELF  243 

inner  conviction  that  this  conformity — this  transcendence  of  the 
unreal — is  possible  and  indeed  normal,  which  upholds  the  mystic 
during  the  terrible  years  of  Purgation :  so  that  "  not  only 
without  heaviness,  but  with  a  joy  unmeasured  he  casts  back  all 
thing  that  may  him  let."  x 

To  the  true  lover  of  the  Absolute,  Purgation  no  less  than 
Illumination  is  a  privilege,  a  dreadful  joy.  It  is  an  earnest  of 
increasing  life.  "  Let  me  suffer  or  die !  "  said  St.  Teresa :  a 
strange  alternative  in  the  ears  of  common  sense,  but  a  forced 
option  in  the  spiritual  sphere.  However  harsh  its  form, 
however  painful  the  activities  to  which  it  spurs  him,  the  mystic 
recognizes  in  this  break-up  of  his  old  universe  an  essential  part 
of  the  Great  Work  :  and  the  act  in  which  he  turns  to  it  is  an 
act  of  love  no  less  than  an  act  of  will.  "  Burning  of  love  into  a 
soul  truly  taken  all  vices  purgeth :  ...  for  whilst  the  true  lover 
with  strong  and  fervent  desire  into  God  is  borne,  all  things  him 
displease  that  from  the  sight  of  God  withdraw."2  His  eyes 
once  opened,  he  is  eager  for  that  ordering  of  his  disordered 
loves  which  alone  can  establish  his  correspondences  with  Tran- 
scendental Life.  "  Teach  me  my  only  joy,"  cries  Suso,  "  the 
way  in  which  I  may  bear  upon  my  body  the  marks  of  Thy 
Love."  "  Come,  my  soul,  depart  from  outward  things  and 
gather  thyself  together  into  a  true  interior  silence,  that  thou 
mayst  set  out  with  all  thy  courage  and  bury  and  lose  thyself  in 
the  desert  of  a  deep  contrition."  3 

It  is  in  this  torment  of  contrition,  this  acute  consciousness 
of  unworthiness,  that  we  have  the  first  swing-back  of  the  oscil- 
lating self  from  the  initial  state  of  mystic  pleasure  to  the 
complementary  state  of  pain.  It  is,  so  to  speak,  on  its  tran- 
scendental side,  the  reflex  action  which  follows  the  first  touch  of 
God.  Thus,  we  read  that  Rulman  Merswin,  "  swept  away  by 
the  transports  of  Divine  Love,"  did  not  surrender  himself  to  the 
passive  enjoyment  of  this  first  taste  of  Absolute  Being,  but  was 
impelled  by  it  to  diligent  and  instant  self-criticism.  He  was 
'seized  with  a  hatred  of  his  body,  and  inflicted  on  himself  such 
hard  mortifications  that  he  fell  ill."  * 

1  Richard  Rolle,  "  The  Mending  of  Life,"  cap.  i. 

2  Ibid.,  "  The  Fire  of  Love,"  bk.  i.  cap  xxiii. 

3  "Buchlein  von  der  ewigen  Weisheit,"  cap.  v. 

4  Jundt,  "  Rulman  Merswin,"  p.  1.9. 


2U  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

It  is  useless  for  lovers  of  healthy-mindedness  to  resent  this 
and  similar  examples  of  self-examination  and  penance :  to  label 
them  morbid  or  mediaeval.  The  fact  remains  that  only  such 
bitter  knowledge  of  wrongness  of  relation,  seen  by  the  light  of 
ardent  love,  can  spur  the  will  of  man  to  the  hard  task  of 
readjustment. 

"  I  saw  full  surely,"  says  Julian  of  Norwich,  "  that  it  behoveth 
needs  to  be  that  we  should  be  in  longing  and  in  penance  until 
the  time  that  we  be  led  so  deep  into  God  that  we  verily  and 
truly  know  our  own  soul."  x 

Dante's  whole  journey  up  the  Mount  of  Purgation  is  the 
dramatic  presentation  of  this  one  truth.  So,  too,  the  celebrated 
description  of  Purgatory  attributed  to  St.  Catherine  of  Genoa  2 
is  obviously  founded  upon  its  author's  inward  experience  of  this 
Purgative  Way.  In  it,  she  applies  to  the  souls  of  the  dead  her 
personal  consciousness  of  the  necessity  of  purification  ;  its  place 
in  the  organic  process  of  spiritual  growth.  It  is,  as  she 
acknowledges  at  the  beginning,  the  projection  of  her  own 
psychological  adventures  upon  the  background  of  the  spiritual 
world  :  its  substance  being  simply  the  repetition  after  death  of 
that  eager  and  heroic  acceptance  of  suffering,  those  drastic  acts 
of  purification  which  she  has  herself  been  compelled  to  under- 
take under  the  whip  of  the  same  psychic  necessity — that  of 
removing  the  rust  of  illusion,  cleansing  the  mirror  in  order  that 
it  may  receive  the  divine  light.  "It  is,"  she  says,  " as  with  a 
covered  object,  the  object  cannot  respond  to  the  rays  of  the 
sun,  not  because  the  sun  ceases  to  shine — for  it  shines  without 
intermission — but  because  the  covering  intervenes.  Let  the 
covering  be  destroyed,  and  again  the  object  will  be  exposed  to 
the  sun,  and  will  answer  to  the  rays  which  beat  against  it  in 
proportion  as  the  work  of  destruction  advances.  Thus  the 
souls  are  covered  by  a  rust — that  is,  by  sin — which  is  gradually 
consumed  away  by  the  fire  of  purgatory.  The  more  it  is  con- 
sumed, the  more  they  respond  to  God  their  true  Sun.  Their 
happiness  increases  as  the  rust  falls  off  and  lays  them  open  to 

*  u  Revelations  of  Divine  Love,"  cap.  lvi. 

1  I  offer  no  opinion  upon  this  question  of  authorship.  Those  interested  may  con- 
sult Von  Hiigel,  "The  Mystical  Element  of  Religion,"  vol.  i.,  Appendix.  Whoever 
may  be  responsible  for  its  present  form,  the  Treatise  is  clearly  founded  upon  first-hand 
mystic  experience  :  which  is  all  that  our  present  purpose  requires. 


THE  PURIFICATION  OF  THE  SELF  245 

the  divine  ray  .  .  .  the  instinctive  tendency  to  seek  happiness 
in  God  develops  itself,  and  goes  on  increasing  through  the  fire 
of  love,  which  draws  it  to  its  end  with  such  impetuosity  and 
vehemence  that  any  obstacle  seems  intolerable  ;  and  the  more 
clear  its  vision,  the  more  extreme  its  pain."  » 

"  Mostratene  la  via  di  gire  al  monte  ! "  cry  the  souls  of  the 
newly-dead  in  Dante's  vision,2  pushed  by  that  "instinctive 
tendency"  towards  the  purifying  flames.  Such  a  tendency, 
such  a  passionate  desire,  the  aspiring  self  must  have.  No  cool, 
well-balanced  knowledge  of  the  need  of  new  adjustments  will 
avail  to  set  it  on  the  Purgative  Way.  This  is  a  heroic  act,  and 
demands  heroic  passions  in  the  soul. 

"In  order  to  overcome  our  desires  and  to  deny  ourselves  in 
all  things,"  says  St.  John  of  the  Cross,  who  is  the  classic 
authority  upon  this  portion  of  the  mystic  quest,  "  our  love 
and  inclination  for  which  are  wont  so  to  inflame  the  will  that 
it  delights  therein,  we  require  another  and  greater  fire  of  another 
and  nobler  love — that  of  the  Bridegroom — so  that  having  all 
our  joy  in  Him,  and  deriving  from  Him  all  our  strength,  we 
may  gain  such  resolution  and  courage  as  shall  enable  us  easily 
to  abandon  and  deny  all  besides.  It  was  necessary,  in  order  to 
subdue  our  sensual  desires,  not  only  to  have  this  love  for  the 
Bridegroom,  but  also  to  be  on  fire  therewith,  and  that  with 
anxiety  ...  if  our  spiritual  nature  were  not  on  fire  with  other 
and  nobler  anxieties — anxieties  for  that  which  is  spiritual — we 
should  never  overcome  our  natural  and  sensible  satisfactions, 
nor  be  able  to  enter  on  the  night  of  sense,  neither  should  we 
have  the  courage  to  remain  in  the  darkness,  in  the  denial  of 
every  desire."  3 

"It  is  necessary  to  be  on  fire  with  love,  and  that  with 
anxiety."  Only  this  deep  and  ardent  passion  for  a  perceived 
Object  of  Love  can  persuade  the  mystic  to  those  unnatural  acts 
of  abnegation  on  which  he  kills  his  lesser  love  of  the  world  of 
sense,  frees  himself  from  the  "  remora  of  desire,"  unifies  all  his 
energies  about  the  new  and  higher  centre  of  his  life.  His 
business,  I  have  said,  is  transcendence  :  a  mounting  up,  an 
attainment  of  a  higher  order  of  reality. r^  Once  his  eyes  have 
been  opened  on  Eternity,  his  instinct  for  the  Absolute  roused 

1  "  Trattato  di  Purgatorio,"  caps.  ii.  and  iii.  2  Purg.  ii.  60. 

3  "  Subida  del  Monte  Carmelo,"  1.  i.  cap.  xiv. 


246  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

from  its  sleep,  he  sees  union  with  that  Reality  as  his  duty  no 
less  than  his  joy  :  sees  too  that  this  union  can  only  be  con- 
summated on  a  plane  where  illusion  and  selfhood  have  no 
place. 

The  inward  voice  says  to  him  perpetually  at  the  least  season- 
able moments,  "  Dimitte  omnia  transitoria,  quaere  aeterna."  * 
Hence  the  purgation  of  the  senses  and  of  the  character 
which  they  have  helped  to  build  is  always  placed  first  in 
order  in  the  Mystic  Way ;  though  sporadic  flashes  of  illumina- 
tion and  ecstasy  may,  and  often  do,  precede  and  accompany  it. 
Since  spiritual  no  less  than  physical  existence  is,  as  we  know 
it,  an  endless  Becoming,  it  too  has  no  end.  In  a  sense  the 
whole  of  the  mystical  experience  in  this  life  consists  in  a  series 
of  purifications,  whereby  the  Finite  slowly  approaches  the 
nature  of  its  Infinite  Source :  climbing  up  the  cleansing 
mountain  pool  by  pool,  like  the  industrious  fish  in  Rulman 
Merswin's  vision,  until  it  reaches  its  Origin.  The  greatest  of 
the  contemplative  saints,  far  from  leaving  purgation  behind 
them  in  their  progress,  were  increasingly  aware  of  their  own 
inadequateness,  the  nearer  they  approached  to  the  unitive  state  : 
for  the  true  lover  of  the  Absolute,  like  every  other  lover,  is 
alternately  abased  and  exalted  by  his  unworthiness  and  his 
good  fortune.  There  are  moments  of  high  rapture  when  he 
knows  only  that  the  banner  over  him  is  Love  :  but  there  are 
others  in  which  he  remains  bitterly  conscious  that  in  spite  of 
his  uttermost  surrender  there  is  within  him  an  ineradicable 
residuum  of  selfhood  which  "stains  the  white  radiance  of 
eternity." 

In  this  sense,  then,  purification  is  a  perpetual  process.  That 
which  mystical  writers  mean,  however,  when  they  speak  of  the 
Way  of  Purgation,  is  rather  the  slow  and  painful  completion  of 
Conversion.  It  is  the  drastic  turning  of  the  self  from  the  unreal 
to  the  real  life  :  a  setting  of  her  house  in  order,  an  orientation  of 
the  mind  to  Truth.  Its  business  is  the  getting  rid,  first  of  self- 
love  ;  and  secondly  of  all  those  foolish  interests  in  which  the 
surface-consciousness  is  steeped. 

"  The  essence  of  purgation,"  says  Richard  of  St.  Victor,  "  is 
self-simplification."  Nothing  can  happen  until  this  has  pro- 
ceeded   a  certain    distance :    till    the    involved   interests   and 

1  "  De  Imitatione  Christi,"  1.  iii.  cap.  i. 


THE  PURIFICATION   OF  THE  SELF  247 

tangled  motives  of  the  self  are  simplified,  and  the  false  compli- 
cations of  temporal  life  are  recognized  and  cast  away. 

"  No  one,"  says  another  authority  in  this  matter,  "  can  be 
enlightened  unless  he  be  first  cleansed  or  purified  and  stripped."  * 
Purgation,  which  is  the  remaking  of  character  in  conformity 
with  perceived  reality,  consists  in  these  two  essential  acts  :  the 
cleansing  of  that  which  is  to  remain,  the  stripping  of  that  which 
is  to  be  done  away.  It  may  best  be  studied,  therefore,  in  two 
parts :  and  I  think  that  it  will  be  in  the  reader's  interest  if  we 
reverse  the  order  which  the  "  Theologia  Germanica  "  adopts,  and 
first  consider  Negative  Purification,  or  self-stripping,  and  next 
Positive  Purification,  or  character-adjustment.  These,  then, 
are  the  branches  into  which  this  subject  will  here  be  split, 
(i)  The  Negative  aspect,  the  stripping  or  purging  away  of 
those  superfluous,  unreal,  and  harmful  things  which  dissipate  the 
precious  energies  of  the  self.  This  is  the  business  of  Poverty, 
or  Detachment.  (2)  The  Positive  aspect :  a  raising  to  their 
highest  term,  their  purest  state,  of  all  that  remains — the  per- 
manent elements  of  character.  This  is  brought  about  by 
Mortification  :  the  gymnastic  of  the  soul :  a  deliberate  recourse 
to  painful  experiences  and  difficult  tasks. 

1.  Detachment 

Apart  from  the  plain  necessity  of  casting  out  imperfec- 
tion and  sin,  what  is  the  type  of  "  good  character "  which 
will  best  serve  the  self  in  its  journey  towards  union  with  the 
Absolute  ? 

The  mystics  of  all  ages  and  all  faiths  agree  in  their  answer. 
Those  three  virtues  which  the  instinct  of  the  Catholic  Church 
fixed  upon  as  the  necessities  of  the  cloistered  life — the  great 
Evangelical  counsel  of  voluntary  Poverty  with  its  departments  : 
Chastity,  the  poverty  of  the  senses,  and  Obedience,  the  poverty 
of  the  will — are  also,  when  raised  to  their  highest  term  and  trans- 
muted by  the  Fire  of  Love,  the.  essential  virtues  of  the  mystical 
quest. 

By  Poverty  the  mystic  means  an  utter  self-stripping,  the 
casting  off  of  immaterial  as  well  as  material  wealth,  a  complete 
detachment  from  all  finite  things.     By  Chastity  he  means  an 

1  "  Theologia  Germanica,''  cap.  xiv. 


248  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

extreme  and  limpid]  purity  of  soul,  virgin  to  all  but  God  : 
by  Obedience,  that  abnegation  of  selfhood,  that  mortifica- 
tion of  the  will  which  results  in  a  complete  humility,  a 
"holy  indifference"  to  the  accidents  of  life.  These  three 
aspects  of  perfection  are  really  one:  linked  together 
as  irrevocably  as  the  three  aspects  of  the  self.  Their 
common  characteristic  is  this :  they  tend  to  make  the  subject 
regard  itself,  not  as  an  isolated  and  interesting  individual, 
possessing  desires  and  rights,  but  as  a  scrap  of  the  Cosmos, 
an  ordinary  bit  of  the  Universal  Life,  only  important,  as  a  part 
of  the  All,  an  expression  of  the  Will  Divine,  Detachment  and 
purity  go  hand  in  hand,  for  purity  is  but  detachment  of  the 
heart ;  and  where  these  are  present  they  bring  with  them  that 
humble  spirit  of  obedience  which  expresses  detachment  of  will. 
We  may  therefore  treat  them  as  three  manifestations  of  one 
thing  :  which  thing  is  Inward  Poverty.  "  Blessed  are  the  poor 
in  spirit,  for  theirs  is  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven,"  is  the  motto  of 
all  pilgrims  on  this  road. 

"  God  is  pure  Good  in  Himself,"  says  Eckhart,  "  therefore  will 
He  dwell  nowhere  but  in  a  pure  soul.  There  He  can  pour 
Himself  out :  into  that  He  can  wholly  flow.  What  is  Purity  ? 
It  is  that  a  man  should  have  turned  himself  away  from  all 
creatures  and  have  set  his  heart  so  entirely  on  the  Pure  Good  that 
no  creature  is  to  him  a  comfort,  that  he  has  no  desire  for  aught 
creaturely,  save  so  far  as  he  may  apprehend  therein  the  Pure 
Good,  which  is  God.  And  as  little  as  the  bright  eye  can  endure 
aught  foreign  in  it,  so  little  can  the  pure  soul  bear  anything  in 
it,  any  stain  on  it,  that  comes  between  it  and  God.  To  it  all 
creatures  are  pure  to  enjoy  ;  for  it  enjoyeth  all  creatures  in  God, 
and  God  in  all  creatures."  x 

"  To  it  all  creatures  are  pure  to  enjoy !  "  This  is  hardly  the 
popular  concept  of  the  mystic  ;  which  credits  him,  in  the  teeth 
of  such  examples  as  St.  Francis,  St.  Mechthild  of  Magdeburg, 
Rolle,  Suso,  and  countless  others,  with  a  hearty  dread  of  natural 
things.  Too  many  mistaken  ascetics  of  the  type  of  the 
Cur6  d'Ars,  who  would  not  smell  a  rose  for  fear  of  sin,  have 
supported  in  this  respect  the  vulgar  belief;  for  it  is  generally 
forgotten  that  though  most  mystics  have  practised  asceticism  as 
a  means  to  an  end,  all  ascetics  are  not  mystics.     Whatever  may 

1  Meister  Eckhart,  quoted  by  Wackernagel,  "  Altdeutsches  Lesebuch,"  p.  891. 


THE  PURIFICATION  OF  THE  SELF  249 

be  the  case  with  other  deniers  of  the  senses,  it  is  true  that  the 
pure  soul  of  the  mystic,  dwelling  on  high  levels  of  reality,  his 
eyes  set  on  the  Transcendental  World,  is  capable  of  combining 
with  the  perfection  of  detachment  that  intense  and  innocent  joy 
in  natural  things,  as  veils  and  vessels  of  the  divine,  which  results 
from  seeing  "all  creatures  in  God  and  God  in  all  creatures." 
1  Whoso  knows  and  loves  the  nobleness  of  My  Freedom,"  said 
the  voice  of  God  to  Mechthild  of  Magdeburg,  "  cannot  bear  to 
love  Me  alone,  he  must  also  love  Me  in  the  creatures." *  Such 
a  power  is  characteristic  of  the  illumination  which  results  from  a 
faithful  endurance  of  the  Purgative  Way ;  for  the  corollary  of 
'blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart"  is  not  merely  a  poetic  state- 
ment. The  annals  of  mysticism  prove  it  to  be  a  psycho- 
logical law. 

How  then  is  this  contradiction  to  be  resolved  :  that  the 
mystic  who  has  declared  the  fundamental  necessity  of  "  leaving 
all  creatures "  yet  finds  them  pure  to  enjoy  ?  The  answer  to 
the  riddle  lies  in  the  ancient  paradox  of  Poverty  :  that  we  only 
enjoy  true  liberty  in  respect  of  such  things  as  we  neither  possess 
nor  desire.  "That  thou  mayest  have  pleasure  in  everything, 
seek  pleasure  in  nothing.  That  thou  mayest  know  everything, 
seek  to  know  nothing.  That  thou  mayest  possess  all  things,  seek 
to  possess  nothing.  ...  In  detachment  the  spirit  finds  quiet 
and  repose,  for  coveting  nothing,  nothing  wearies  it  by  elation  ; 
and  nothing  oppresses  it  by  dejection,  because  it  stands  in 
the  centre  of  its  own  humility.  For  as  soon  as  it  covets  any- 
thing it  is  immediately  fatigued  thereby."  * 

It  is  not  love  but  lust — the  possessive  case,  the  very  food  of 
selfhood — which  poisons  the  relation  between  the  self  and  the 
external  world  and  "immediately  fatigues"  the  soul.  Divide 
the  world  into  "  mine  "  and  "  not  mine,"  and  unreal  standards 
are  set  up,  claims  and  cravings  begin  to  fret  the  mind.  We  are 
the  slaves  of  our  own  property.  We  drag  with  us  not  a  treasure, 
but  a  chain.  "  Behold,"  says  the  "  Theologia  Germanica,"  "  on 
this  sort  must  we  cast  all  things  from  us  and  strip  ourselves  of 
them:  we  must  refrain  from  claiming  anything  for  our  own. 
When  we  do  this,  we  shall  have  the  best,  fullest,  clearest, 
and   noblest  knowledge  that   a  man   can  have,  and   also   the 

1  "  Das  Fliessende  Licht  der  Gottheit,"  pt.  vi.,  cap.  4. 

8  St.  Tohn  of  the  Cross,  "  Subida  del  Monte  Carmelo,"  bk.  i.  cap.  xiii. 


250  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

nobiest  and  purest  love  and  desire."  l  "  He  will  not  behold  the 
Light  who  attempts  to  ascend  to  the  vision  of  the  Supreme 
whilst  he  is  drawn  downwards  by  those  things  that  are  an 
obstacle  to  the  vision,"  says  Plotinus,  "  for  he  does  not  ascend 
alone,  but  brings  with  him  that  which  separates  him  from  the 
One  :  in  a  word,  he  is  not  made  one."  2  Accept  Poverty,  how- 
ever, demolish  ownership,  the  verb  "  to  have "  in  every  mood 
and  tense,  and  this  downward  drag  is  at  an  end.  At  once  the 
Cosmos  belongs  to  you  and  you  to  it.  You  escape  the  heresy 
of  separateness,  are  "  made  one,"  and  merged  in  "  the  greater 
life  of  the  All."  Then,  a  free  spirit  in  a  free  world,  the  self 
moves  upon  its  true  orbit  undistracted  by  the  largely  self- 
imposed  responsibilities  of  ordinary  earthly  existence. 

This  was  the  truth  which  St.  Francis  of  Assisi  grasped, 
and  applied  with  the  energy  of  a  reformer  and  the  delicate 
originality  of  a  poet  to  every  circumstance  of  the  inner  and 
the  outer  life.  This  noble  liberty  it  is  which  is  extolled  by 
his  spiritual  descendant,  Jacopone  da  Todi,  in  one  of  his  most 
magnificent  odes : — 

"  Poverta  alto  sapere 

a  nulla  cosa  sojacere 
en  desprezo  possedere 
tutte  le  cose  create.  .  .  . 

Dio  non  alberga  en  core  strecto 
tant'e  grande  quantai  affecto 
povertate  ha  si  gran  pecto 
die  ci  alberga  deitate.  .  .  . 

Povertate  e  nulla  havere 
et  nulla  cosa  poi  volere 
et  omne  cosa  possedere 
en  spirito  de  libertate."3 


1  "  Theologia  Germanica,''  cap.  v. 

2  Ennead  vi.  g. 

3  "  Oh  Poverty,  high  wisdom  !  to  be  subject  to  nothing,  and  by  despising  all  to 
possess  all  created  things.  .  .   . 

God  will  not  lodge  in  a  narrow  heart ;  and  it  is  as  great  as  thy  love.  Poverty 
has  so  ample  a  bosom  that  Deity  Itself  may  lodge  therein.  .  .   . 

Poverty  is  naught  to  have  and  nothing  to  desire  :  but  all  things  to  possess  in 
the  spirit  of  liberty."— -Jacopone  da  7odi.     Lauda  lix. 


THE  PURIFICATION  OF  THE  SELF  251 

"  My  little  sisters  the  birds,"  said  St.  Francis,  greatest  adept 
of  that  high  wisdom,  "Brother  Sun,  Sister  Water,  Mother 
Earth." x  Not  my  servants,  but  my  kindred  and  fellow- 
citizens  ;  who  may  safely  be  loved  so  long  as  they  are  not 
desired.  So,  in  almost  identical  terms,  the  dying  Hindu 
ascetic  : — 

"Oh  Mother  Earth,  Father  Sky, 
Brother  Wind,  Friend  Light,  Sweetheart  Water, 
Here  take  my  last  salutation  with  folded  hands ! 
For  to-day  I  am  melting  away  into  the  Supreme 
Because  my  heart  became  pure, 
And  all  delusion  vanished, 
Through  the  power  of  your  good  company." 

It  is  the  business  of  Lady  Poverty  to  confer  on  her  lovers 
this  freedom  of  the  Universe,  to  eradicate  delusion,  purify  the 
heart,  and  initiate  them  into  the  "great  life  of  the  All." 
Well  might  St.  Francis  desire  marriage  with  that  enchantress, 
who  gives  back  ten-fold  all  that  she  takes  away.  "  Holy 
poverty,"  he  said,  "  is  a  treasure  so  high  excelling  and  so 
divine  that  we  be  not  worthy  to  lay  it  up  in  our  vile  vessels ; 
since  this  is  that  celestial  virtue  whereby  all  earthly  things 
and  fleeting  are  trodden  underfoot,  and  whereby  all  hind- 
rances are  lifted  from  the  soul  so  that  freely  she  may  join 
herself  to  God  Eternal."2 

Poverty  is  the  matchmaker  between  God  and  the  spirit 
of  man.  Never  will  the  union  to  which  that  spirit  tends  take 
place  without  her  good  offices,  her  drastic  separation  of  the 
unreal  from  the  real.  She  strips  off  the  clothing  which  man  so 
often  mistakes  for  himself,  transvaluates  all  his  values,  and 
shows  him  things  as  they  are.  Thus,  in  that  beautiful  chapter 
of  the  "  Sacrum  Commercium,"  which  describes  how  the  friars, 
climbing  "the  steeps  of  the  hill,"  find  Lady  Poverty  at  the 
summit  "enthroned  only  in  her  nakedness,"  we  are  told  that 
she  "preventing  them  with  the  blessings  of  sweetness,"  said, 
"Why  hasten  ye  so  from  the  vale  of  tears  to  the  mount  of 
light?  If,  peradventure,  it  is  me  that  ye  seek,  lo,  I  am  but  as 
you   behold,  a   little   poor   one,   stricken   with  storms  and   far 

*  "  Fioretti,"  cap.  xvi.,  and  "Speculum,"  cap.  cxx. 
8  Ibid.t  cap.  xiii.  (Arnold's  translation). 


252  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

from  any  consolation."  Whereto  the  brothers  answer,  "  Only 
admit  us  to  thy  peace  ;  and  we  shall  be  saved."  x 

The  same  truth :  the  saving  peace  of  utter  detachment 
from  everything  but  Divine  Reality — a  detachment  which 
makes  those  who  have  it  the  citizens  of  the  world,  and 
enabled  the  friars  to  say  to  Lady  Poverty  as  they  showed 
her  from  the  hill  of  Assisi  the  whole  countryside  at  her  feet, 
"  Hoc  est  claustrum  nostrum,  Domina,"  2  is  taught  by  Meister 
Eckhart  in  a  more  homely  parable. 

There  was  a  learned  man  who,  eight  years  long,  desired 
that  God  would  show  him  a  man  who  would  teach  him  the 
truth.  And  once  when  he  felt  a  very  great  longing  a  voice  from 
God  came  to  him  and  said,  "Go  to  the  church  and  there 
shalt  thou  find  a  man  who  shalt  show  thee  the  way  to  blessed- 
ness." And  he  went  thence,  and  found  a  poor  man  whose 
feet  were  torn  and  covered  with  dust  and  dirt  :  and  all  his 
clothes  were  hardly  worth  three  farthings.  And  he  greeted 
him,  saying : — 

"  God  give  you  good  day  !  " 

He  answered :  "  I  have  never  had  a  bad  day." 

"  God  give  you  good  luck." 

"  I  have  never  had  ill  luck." 

"  May  you  be  happy  !  but  why  do  you  answer  me  thus  ?  " 

"  I  have  never  been  unhappy." 

"  Pray  explain  this  to  me,  for  I  cannot  understand  it" 

The  poor  man  answered,  "Willingly.  You  wished  me 
good  day.  I  never  had  a  bad  day  ;  for  if  I  am  hungry  I  praise 
God ;  if  it  freezes,  hails,  snows,  rains,  if  the  weather  is  fair  or 
foul,  still  I  praise  God ;  am  I  wretched  and  despised,  I  praise 
God,  and  so  I  have  never  had  an  evil  day.  You  wished 
that  God  would  send  me  luck.  But  I  never  had  ill  luck,  for 
I  know  how  to  live  with  God,  and  I  know  that  what  He 
does  is  best ;  and  what  God  gives  me  or  ordains  for  me,  be 
it  good  or  ill,  I  take  it  cheerfully  from  God  as  the  best  that 
can  be,  and  so  I  have  never  had  ill  luck.  You  wished  that 
God  would  make  me  happy.  I  was  never  unhappy  ;  for  my 
only  desire  is  to  live  in  God's  will,  and  I  have  so  entirely 
yielded  my  will  to  God's,  that  what  God  wills,  I  will." 

1  "Sacrum  Commercium    Beati    Francisci    cum  Domina  Paupertate,"  caps.  iv. 
and  v.  (Rawnsley's  translation).  2  Op.  cit.,  cap.  xxii. 


THE   PURIFICATION  OF  THE  SELF  253 

"But  if  God  should  will  to  cast  you  into  hell,"  said  the 
learned  man,  "  what  would  you  do  then  ?  " 

"  Cast  me  into  hell  ?  His  goodness  forbids !  But  if  He 
did  cast  me  into  hell,  I  should  have  two  arms  to  embrace  Him. 
One  arm  is  true  humility,  that  I  should  lay  beneath  Him,  and 
be  thereby  united  to  His  holy  humanity.  And  with  the  right 
arm  of  love,  which  is  united  with  His  holy  divinity,  I  should  so 
embrace  Him  that  He  would  have  to  go  to  hell  with  me. 
And  I  would  rather  be  in  hell  and  have  God,  than  in  heaven 
and  not  have  God." 

Then  the  Master  understood  that  true  abandonment  with 
utter  humility  is  the  nearest  way  to  God. 

The  Master  asked  further :  "  Whence  are  you  come  ?  " 

"  From  God." 

"  Where  did  you  find  God  ?  " 

"  When  I  forsook  all  creatures." 

"  Where  have  you  left  God  ?  " 

"In  pure  hearts,  and  in  men  of  good  will." 

The  Master  asked  :  "  What  sort  of  man  are  you  ?  " 

"  I  am  a  king." 

"  Where  is  your  kingdom  ?  " 

"  My  soul  is  my  kingdom,  for  I  can  so  rule  my  senses  inward 
and  outward  that  all  the  desires  and  powers  of  my  soul  are  in 
subjection,  and  this  kingdom  is  greater  than  a  kingdom  on 
earth."  * 

"  What  brought  you  to  this  perfection  ?  " 

"  My  silence,  my  high  thoughts,  and  my  union  with  God. 
For  I  could  not  rest  in  anything  that  was  less  than  God.  Now 
I  have  found  God  ;  and  in  God  have  eternal  rest  and  peace."2 

Poverty,  then,  consists  in  a  breaking  down  of  man's  invete- 
rate habit  of  trying  to  rest  in,  or  take  seriously,  things  which 
are  "  less  than  God  " :  i.e.,  which  do  not  possess  the  character 
of  reality.  Such  a  habit  is  the  most  fertile  of  all  causes  of 
"world-weariness"  and  disillusion:  faults,  or  rather  spiritual 
diseases,  which  the  mystics  never  exhibit,  but  which  few  who 
are  without  all  mystic  feeling  can  hope  to  escape.     Hence  the 

1  So  Ruysbroeck,  "  Freewill  is  the  king  of  the  soul,  he  inhabits  the  highest  city  ot 
that  kingdom  :  that  is  to  say,  the  desirous  forces  of  the  soul  "  ("  L'Ornement  des 
Noces  Spirituelles,"  1.  i.  cap.  xxiv.). 

2  Meister  Eckhart.    Quoted  in  Martensen's  monograph,  p.  107. 


254  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

sharpened  perceptions  of  the  contemplatives  have  always  seen 
poverty  as  a  counsel  of  prudence,  a  higher  form  of  common 
sense.  It  is  not  with  St.  Francis,  or  any  other  great  mystic, 
a  first  principle,  an  end  in  itself.  It  was  rather  a  logical  de- 
duction from  the  first  principle  of  their  science — the  paramount 
importance  to  the  soul  of  a  clear  view  of  reality. 

Here  East  and  West  are  in  agreement :  "  Their  science," 
says  Al  Ghazzali  of  the  Sufis,  who  practised,  like  the  early 
Franciscans,  a  complete  renunciation  of  worldly  goods,  "has 
for  its  object  the  uprooting  from  the  soul  of  all  violent  passions, 
the  extirpation  from  it  of  vicious  desires,  and  evil  qualities ; 
so  that  the  heart  may  become  detached  from  all  that  is  not 
God,  and  give  itself  for  its  only  occupation  meditation  upon 
the  Divine  Being."  x 

All  those  who  have  felt  themselves  urged  towards  the  attain- 
ment of  this  transcendental  vision,  have  found  that  possessions 
interrupt  the  view,  are  centres  of  conflicting  interest  in  the 
mind.  They  assume  a  false  air  of  importance,  force  them- 
selves upon  the  attention,  and  complicate  life.  Hence,  in  the 
interest  of  self-simplification,  they  must  be  cleared  away  :  a 
removal  which  involves  for  the  real  enthusiast  little  more  sacri- 
fice than  the  weekly  visit  of  the  dustman.  "  Having  entirely 
surrendered  my  own  free-will,"  says  Al  Ghazzali  of  his  personal 
experience,  "  my  heart  no  longer  felt  any  distress  in  renouncing 
fame,  wealth,  or  the  society  of  my  children."2 

Others  have  contrived  to  reconcile  self-surrender  with  a  more 
moderate  abandonment  of  outward  things.  Possessions  take 
different  rank  for  almost  every  human  soul ;  and  the  true  rule 
of  poverty  consists  in  giving  up  those  things  which  enchain 
the  spirit,  divide  its  interests,  and  deflect  it  on  its  road  to  the 
Absolute — whether  these  things  be  riches,  habits,  religious 
observances,  friends,  interests,  distastes,  or  desires — not  in  mere 
outward  destitution  for  its  own  sake.  It  is  attitude,  not  act, 
that  really  matters ;  self-denudation  would  not  be  necessary 
were  it  not  for  our  ineradicable  tendency  to  attribute  false 
value  to  things  the  moment  they  become  our  own.  "  What  is 
poverty  of  spirit  but  meekness  of  mind,  by  which  a  man  knows 
his  own  infirmity  ?  "  says  Rolle,  "  seeing  that  to  perfect  stable- 

1  Schmolders,  "  Essai  sur  les  Ecoles  Philosophiques  chez  les  Arabes,"  p.  54. 

2  Ibid.,  op.  tit. ,p.  58. 


THE  PURIFICATION  OF  THE  SELF  255 

ness  he  may  not  come  but  by  the  grace  of  God,  all  thing  that 
him  might  let  from  that  grace  he  forsakes,  and  only  in  joy  ot 
his  Maker  he  sets  his  desire.  And  as  of  one  root  spring  many 
branches,  so  of  wilful  poverty  on  this  wise  taken  proceed  virtues 
and  marvels  untrowed.  Not  as  some  that  change  their  clothes 
and  not  their  souls ;  riches  soothly  it  seems  these  forsake,  and 
vices  innumerable  they  cease  not  to  gather.  ...  If  thou  truly 
all  thing  for  God  forsake,  see  more  what  thou  despiseth  than  what 
thou  for  sake  thy l 

From  such  passages  as  this  it  follows  that  the  Poverty  ot 
the  mystics  is  a  mental  rather  than  a  material  state.  Detach- 
ment is  the  inner  reality,  of  which  Franciscan  poverty  is  a 
sacrament  to  the  world.  It  is  the  poor  in  spirit,  not  the  poor 
in  substance,  who  are  to  be  spiritually  blessed.  "  Let  all  things 
be  forsaken  of  me,"  says  Gerlac  Petersen,  "  so  that  being  poor 
I  may  be  able  in  great  inward  spaciousness,  and  without  any 
hurt,  to  suffer  want  of  all  those  things  which  the  mind  of  man 
can  desire;  out  of  or  excepting  God  Himself."2 

"  I  am  not  speaking  here  of  the  absence  of  things,"  says 
St.  John  of  the  Cross,  "  for  absence  is  not  detachment  if 
the  desire  remains — but  of  that  detachment  which  consists 
in  suppressing  desire  and  avoiding  pleasure.  It  is  this  that 
sets  the  soul  free,  even  though  possession  may  be  still 
retained."  3 

Every  person  in  whom  the  mystical  instinct  awakes  soon 
discovers  in  himself  certain  tastes  or  qualities  which  interrupt 
the  development  of  that  instinct.  Often  these  tastes  and 
qualities  are  legitimate  enough  upon  their  own  plane ;  but 
they  are  a  drain  upon  the  energy  of  the  self,  preventing 
her  from  attaining  that  intenser  life  for  which  she  was  made 
and  which  demands  all  her  interest  and  energy.  They  distract 
her  attention,  they  fill  the  field  of  perception  :  making  of  the 
surface-consciousness  so  active  a  thing  that  it  can  hardly  be 
put  to  sleep.  "  Where  can  he  have  that  pure  and  naked  vision 
of  unchangeable  Truth  whereby  he  see  into  all  things,"  says 
Petersen  again,  "  who  is  so  busied  in  other  things,  not  perhaps 
ivil,  which  operate  .  .  .  upon  his  thoughts  and  imagination  and 

1  Richard  Rolle,  "  The  Mending  of  Life,"  cap.  iii. 

2  u  Ignitum  cum  Deo  Soliloquium,"  cap.  i. 

3  "  Subida  del  Monte  Carmelo,"  1.  i.  cap. 


256  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

confuse  and  enchain  his  mind  .  .  .  that  his  sight  of  that  unique 
One  in  Whom  all  things  are  is  over-clouded  ?"J 

Now  the  nature  of  these  distracting  factors  which  "  confuse 
and  enchain  the  mind  "  will  vary  with  almost  every  individual. 
It  is  impossible  to  predict  in  any  one  case  what  the  things  will 
be  which  the  self  must  give  up  in  order  that  the  transcendental 
consciousness  may  grow.  "  Does  it  make  any  difference  whether 
a  bird  be  held  by  a  slender  thread  or  by  a  rope,  while  the  bird 
is  bound  and  cannot  fly  until  the  cord  that  holds  it  is  broken  ? 
It  is  true  that  a  slender  thread  is  more  easily  broken  ;  still 
notwithstanding,  if  it  is  not  broken  the  bird  cannot  fly.  This 
is  the  state  of  a  soul  with  particular  attachments :  it  never  can 
attain  to  the  liberty  of  the  divine  union,  whatever  virtues  it 
may  possess.  Desires  and  attachments  affect  the  soul  as  the 
remora  is  said  to  affect  a  ship ;  that  is  but  a  little  fish,  yet  when 
it  clings  to  the  vessel  it  effectually  hinders  its  progress."2 

"  One  man's  meat  is  another  man's  poison,"  is  a  statement 
that  is  peculiarly  true  in  regard  to  questions  of  detachment. 
Here  each  adventurer  must — and  does — judge  for  himself; 
extirpating  all  those  interests  which  nourish  selfhood,  however 
innocent  or  even  useful  they  may  seem  in  the  eyes  of  the 
world.  The  only  rule  is  the  remorseless  abandonment  of 
everything  which  is  in  the  way.  "When  any  man  God  per- 
fectly desires  to  love,  all  things  as  well  inward  as  outward 
that  to  God's  love  are  contrary  and  from  His  love  do  let,  he 
studies  to  do  away."  3  This  may  mean  the  utter  self-stripping 
of  St.  Francis  of  Assisi,  who  cast  off  his  actual  clothing  in  his 
relentless  determination  to  have  nothing  of  his  own  :4  or  the 
scarcely  less  drastic  proceedings  of  Antoinette  Bourignan, 
who  found  that  a  penny  was  enough  to  keep  her  from  God. 

"  Being  one  night  in  a  most  profound  Penitence,"  says 
the  biographer  of  this  extraordinary  woman,  "  she  said 
from  the  bottom  of  her  Heart,  '  O  my  Lord !  what  must 
I  do  to  please  Thee?  For  I  have  nobody  to  teach  me. 
Speak  to  my  soul  and  it  will  hear  Thee.'"  At  that  instant 
she  heard,  as  if  another  had  spoken  within  her,  "  Forsake  all 

1  Gerlac  Petersen,  op.  cit. ,  cap.  xi. 

a  St.  John  of  the  Cross,  op.  cit.,  1.  i.  cap.  xi. 

3  Richard  Rolle,  "  The  Fire  of  Love,"  bk.  i.  cap.  xix. 

4  Thomas  of  Celano,  Legenda  Prima,  cap.  vi. 


THE  PUEIFICATION  OF  THE  SELF  257 

earthly  things.  Separate  thyself  from  the  love  of  the 
creatures.  Deny  thyself."  From  this  time  the  more  she 
entered  into  herself  the  more  she  was  inclined  to  abandon 
all.  But  she  had  not  the  courage  necessary  for  the  com- 
plete renunciation  towards  which  her  transcendental  conscious- 
ness was  pressing  her.  She  struggled  to  adjust  herself  to  the 
inner  and  the  outer  life,  but  without  success.  For  such  a 
character  as  hers,  compromise  was  impossible.  "She  asked 
always  earnestly,  When  shall  I  be  perfectly  thine,  O  my  God  ? 
and  she  thought  He  still  answered  her,  When  thou  shalt  no 
longer  possess  anything,  and  shalt  die  to  thyself.  And  where 
shall  I  do  that,  Lord  ?  He  answered,  In  the  Desert?  At  last 
the  discord  between  her  deeper  and  her  superficial  self  became 
intolerable.  Reinforced  by  the  miseries  of  an  unsympathetic 
home,  still  more  by  a  threat  of  approaching  marriage,  the  in- 
exorable inner  powers  got  their  way.  She  submitted  ;  and 
having  disguised  herself  in  a  hermit's  dress — she  was  only 
eighteen  and  had  no  one  to  help  or  advise  her — "  she  went 
out  of  her  chamber  about  Four  in  the  Morning,  taking  nothing 
but  one  Penny  to  buy  Bread  for  that  Day ;  and  it  being  said 
to  her  in  the  going  out,  Where  is  thy  Faith  ?  In  a  Penny  ?  she 
threw  it  away.  .  .  .  Thus  she  went  away  wholly  delivered  from 
the  heavy  burthen  of  the  Cares  and  Good  Things  of  this  World."1 
An  admirable  example  of  the  mystic's  attitude  towards  the 
soul-destroying  division  of  interests,  the  natural  but  hopeless 
human  struggle  to  make  the  best  of  both  worlds,  which  sucks 
at  its  transcendental  vitality,  occurs  in  St.  Teresa's  purga- 
tive period.  In  her  case  this  state  of  purification,  the  war 
between  the  real  and  the  superficial  self,  extended  over  a  long 
term  of  years.  It  ran  side  by  side  with  the  state  of  Illumina- 
tion, co-existing  with  a  fully  developed  contemplative  life ;  and 
was  only  brought  to  an  end  by  that  "  Second  Conversion " 
which  at  last  unified  her  scattered  interests  and  set  her  firmly 
and  for  ever  on  the  Unitive  Way.  The  almost  virile  strength 
of  Teresa's  character,  which  afterwards  contributed  to  the  great- 
ness of  her  achievement  in  the  unitive  state,  opposed  itself  to 
the  invading  transcendental  consciousness  ;  disputed  every  inch 
of  territory,  resisted  every  demand  made  upon  it  by  the  grow- 
ing spiritual  self.     Bit  by  bit  it  was  conquered,  the  sphere  of 

1  "  An  Apology  for  Mrs.  Antoinette  Bourignan,"  pp.  269-70. 


258  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

her  deeper  life  enlarged  ;  until  the  moment  came  in  which  she 
surrendered,  once  for  all,  to  her  true  destiny.1 

During  the  years  of  inward  stress,  of  penance  and  growing 
knowledge  of  the  Infinite  which  she  spent  in  the  Convent  of  the 
Incarnation,  and  which  accompanied  this  slow  remaking  of 
character,  Teresa's  only  self-indulgence — as  it  seems,  a  suffi- 
ciently innocent  one — was  talking  to  the  friends  who  came 
down  from  Avila  to  the  convent-parlour,  and  spoke  to  her 
through  the  grille.  Her  confessors,  unaccustomed  to  the  educa- 
tion of  mystical  genius,  saw  nothing  incompatible  between  this 
practice  and  the  pursuit  of  a  high  contemplative  life.  But  as 
her  transcendental  consciousness,  her  states  of  orison  grew 
stronger,  Teresa  felt  more  and  more  the  distracting  influence  of 
these  glimpses  of  the  outer  world.  They  were  a  drain  upon  the 
energy  which  ought  to  be  wholly  given  to  that  new,  deep,  more 
real  life  which  she  felt  stirring  within  her,  and  which  could  only 
hope  to  achieve  its  mighty  destiny  by  complete  concentration 
upon  the  business  in  hand.  No  genius  can  afford  to  dissipate 
his  energies  :  the  mystic  genius  least  of  all.  Teresa  knew  that 
so  long  as  she  retained  these  personal  satisfactions,  her  life  had 
more  than  one  focus ;  she  was  not  whole-hearted  in  her  sur- 
render to  the  Absolute.  But  though  her  inward  voices,  her 
deepest  instincts,  urged  her  to  give  them  up,  for  years  she  felt 
herself  incapable  of  such  a  sacrifice.  It  was  round  the  question 
of  their  retention  or  surrender  that  the  decisive  battle  of  her  life 
was  fought. 

"  The  devil,"  says  her  great  Augustinian  eulogist,  Fray  Luis 
de  Leon,  in  his  vivid  account  of  these  long  interior  struggles,  "  put 
before  her  those  persons  most  sympathetic  by  nature ;  and  God 
came,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  conversation  discovered  Himself 
aggrieved  and  sorrowful.  The  devil  delighted  in  the  conversa- 
tion and  pastime,  but  when  she  turned  her  back  on  them  and 
betook  herself  to  prayer,  God  redoubled  the  delight  and  favours, 
as  if  to  show  her  how  false  was  the  lure  which  charmed  her  at 
the  grating,  and  that  His  sweetness  was  the  veritable  sweetness. 
...  So  that  these  two  inclinations  warred  with  each  other  in 

1  St.  Teresa's  mystic  states  are  particularly  difficult  to  classify.  From  one  point 
of  view  these  struggles  might  be  regarded  as  the  preliminaries  of  conversion.  She 
was,  however,  proficient  in  contemplation  when  they  occurred,  and  I  therefore  think 
that  my  arrangement  is  the  right  one. 


THE  PURIFICATION  OF  THE  SELF  259 

the  breast  of  this  blessed  woman,  and  the  authors  who  inspired 
them  each  did  his  utmost  to  inflame  her  most,  and  the  oratory 
blotted  out  what  the  grating  wrote,  and  at  times  the  grating 
vanquished  and  diminished  the  good  fruit  produced  by  prayer, 
causing  agony  and  grief  which  disquieted  and  perplexed  her 
soul  :  for  though  she  was  resolved  to  belong  entirely  to  God, 
she  knew  not  how  to  shake  herself  free  from  the  world  :  and  at 
times  she  persuaded  herself  that  she  could  enjoy  both,  which 
ended  mostly,  as  she  says,  in  complete  enjoyment  of  neither. 
For  the  amusements  of  the  locutorio  were  embittered  and 
turned  into  wormwood  by  the  memory  of  the  secret  and  sweet 
intimacy  with  God  ;  and  in  the  same  way  when  she  retired  to 
be  with  God,  and  commenced  to  speak  with  Him,  the  affections 
and  thoughts  which  she  carried  with  her  from  the  grating  took 
possession  of  her."  x 

Compare  with  these  violent  oscillations  between  the  super- 
ficial and  mystical  consciousness — characteristic  of  Teresa's 
strong  volitional  nature,  which  only  came  to  rest  after  psychic 
convulsions  which  left  no  corner  of  its  being  unexplored — the 
symbolic  act  of  renunciation  under  which  Antoinette  Bourignan's 
"interior  self"  vanquished  the  surface  intelligence  and  asserted 
its  supremacy.  Teresa  must  give  up  her  passionate  interest  in 
human  life.  Antoinette,  never  much  tempted  in  that  direction, 
must  give  up  her  last  penny.  What  society  was  to  Teresa's 
generous,  energetic  nature,  prudence  was  to  the  temperamentally 
shrewd  and  narrow  Antoinette :  a  distraction,  a  check  on  the 
development  of  the  all-demanding  transcendental  genius,  an 
unconquered  relic  of  the  "  lower  life." 

Many  a  mystic,  however,  has  found  the  perfection  of  detach- 
ment to  be  consistent  with  a  far  less  drastic  renunciation  of 
external  things  than  that  which  these  women  felt  to  be  essential 
to  their  peace.  The  test,  as  we  have  seen,  does  not  lie  in  the 
nature  of  the  things  which  are  retained,  but  in  the  reaction  which 
they  stimulate  in  the  self.  "  Absolute  poverty  is  thine,"  says 
Tauler,  "  when  thou  canst  not  remember  whether  anybody  has 
ever  owed  thee  or  been  indebted  to  thee  for  anything ;  just  as 
all  things  will  be  forgotten  by  thee  in  the  last  journey  of 
death." 2     Poverty,  in  this  sense,  may  be  consistent  with  the 

1  Quoted  by  G.  Cunninghame  Graham,  ■*  Santa  Teresa,"  vol.  i.  p.  139. 
3  Sermon  on  St.  Paul  ("  The  Inner  Way,"  p.  113). 


260  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

habitual  and  automatic  use  of  luxuries  which  the  abstracted 
self  never  even  perceives.  Thus  we  are  told  that  St.  Bernard 
was  reproached  by  his  enemies  with  the  inconsistency  of  preach- 
ing evangelical  poverty  whilst  making  his  journeys  from  place 
to  place  on  a  magnificently  caparisoned  mule,  which  had  been 
lent  to  him  by  the  Cluniac  monks.  He  expressed  great  contri- 
tion :  but  said  that  he  had  never  noticed  what  it  was  that  he 
rode  upon.1 

Sometimes,  the  very  activity  which  one  self  has  rejected  as 
an  impediment  becomes  for  another  the  channel  of  spiritual 
perception.  I  have  mentioned  the  case  of  the  Cure  d'Ars,  who, 
among  other  inhibitions,  refused  to  allow  himself  to  smell  a  rose. 
Sharply  opposed  to  this  is  the  case  of  St.  Francis,  who  preached 
to  the  flowers,2  and  ordered  a  plot  to  be  set  aside  for  their 
cultivation  when  the  convent  garden  was  made,  "  in  order  that 
all  who  saw  them  might  remember  the  Eternal  Sweetness."  3 
So,  too,  we  are  told  of  his  spiritual  daughter,  St.  Douceline,  that 
"  out  of  doors  one  day  with  her  sisters,  she  heard  a  bird's  note. 
'  What  a  lovely  song  ! '  she  said  :  and  the  song  drew  her  straight- 
way to  God.  Did  they  bring  her  a  flower,  its  beauty  had  a  like 
effect?  4  Here  we  are  reminded  of  Plato.  "  The  true  order  of 
going  is  to  use  the  beauties  of  Earth  as  steps  along  which  one 
mounts  upwards  for  the  sake  of  that  other  Beauty."  This,  too, 
is  the  true  order  of  Holy  Poverty  :  the  selfless  use,  not  the 
selfish  abuse  of  lovely  and  natural  things. 

To  say  that  so  difficult  a  counsel  of  perfection  should  some- 
times have  been  practised  in  excess,  is  but  to  say  that  asceticism 
is  a  human,  not  an  inhuman  art.  Such  excesses,  however, 
are  found  most  often  amongst  those  saintly  types  who  have  not 
exhibited  true  mystic  intuition.  This  intuition,  entailing  as  it 
does  communion  with  intensest  Life,  gives  to  its  possessors  a 
sweet  sanity,  a  delicate  balance,  which  guards  them,  as  a  rule, 
from  such  conceptions  of  chastity  as  that  of  the  youthful  saint 
who  shut  himself  in  a  cupboard  for  fear  he  should  see  his 
mother  pass  by  :  from  obedience  of  the  type  which  identifies 
the  voice  of  the  director  with  the  voice  of  God  ;  from  detach- 

x  Cotter  Morison,  "  Life  and  Times  of  St.  Bernard,"  p.  68. 

9  Thomas  of  Celano,  Legenda  Prima,  cap.  xxix. 

3  Ibid.,  Legenda  Secunda,  cap.  cxxiv. 

*  Anne  Macdonell,  "  St.  Douceline,"  p.  30. 


THE  PURIFICATION  OF  THE   SELF  261 

ment  such  as  that  exhibited  by  the  Blessed  Angela  of  Foligno, 
who,  though  a  true  mystic,  viewed  with  murderous  delight  the 
deaths  of  relatives  who  were  "  impediments."  *  The  detach- 
ment of  the  mystic  is  just  a  restoration  to  the  liberty,  in  which 
the  soul  was  made  :  it  is  a  state  of  joyous  humility  in  which  he 
cries,  "  Nought  I  am,  nought  I  have,  nought  I  lack."  To  have 
arrived  at  this  is  to  have  escaped  from  external  illusion  :  to  be 
initiated  into  the  purer  air  of  that  universe  which  knows  but 
one  rule  of  action — that  which  was  laid  down  once  for  all  by  St. 
Augustine  when  he  said,  in  the  most  memorable  and  misquoted 
of  epigrams  :  "  Love,  and  do  what  you  like." 

2.  Mortification 

By  mortification,  I  have  said,  is  to  be  understood  the  positive 
aspect  of  purification  :  the  remaking  in  relation  to  reality  of 
the  permanent  elements  of  character.  These  elements,  so  far, 
have  subserved  the  interests  of  the  old  self,  worked  for  it  in  the 
world  of  sense.  Now  they  must  be  adjusted  to  the  needs  of  the 
new  self  and  to  the  transcendent  world  in  which  it  moves.  Their 
focal  point  is  the  old  self,  the  lower  centre  of  consciousness  ; 
and  the  object  of  mortification  is  to  kill  that  old  self,  remove 
that  lower  centre,  in  order  that  the  higher  centre,  the  "  new 
man,"  may  live  and  breathe.  As  St.  Teresa  discovered  when 
she  tried  to  reconcile  the  claims  of  friendship  and  contempla- 
tion, one  or  other  must  go :  a  house  divided  against  itself 
cannot  stand.  "Who  hinders  thee  more,"  says  Thomas  a 
Kempis,  "than  the  unmodified  affections  of  thy  own  heart? 
...  if  we  were  perfectly  dead  unto  ourselves  and  not  entangled 
within  our  own  breasts,  then  should  we  be  able  to  taste  Divine 
things,  and  to  have  some  experience  of  heavenly  contempla- 
tion." 2 

In  psychological  language,  the  process  of  mortification  is  the 
process  of  setting  up  "  new  paths  of  neural  discharge."     That  is 

1  "  In  that  time  and  by  God's  will  there  died  my  mother,  who  was  a  great 
hindrance  unto  me  in  following  the  way  of  God  :  my  husband  died  likewise,  and  in  a 
short  time  there  also  died  all  my  children.  And  because  I  had  commenced  to  follow 
the  aforesaid  Way,  and  had  prayed  God  that  He  would  rid  me  of  them,  I  had  great 
consolation  of  their  deaths,  albeit  I  did  also  feel  some  grief"  (Beatae  Angelae  de 
Fulginio,  "  Visionum  et  Instructionum  Liber,"  cap.  ix.,  English  translation,  p.  5). 

2  "De  Imitatione  Christi,"  1.  i.  caps.  iii.  and  xi. 


262  AN  INTKODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

to  say,  the  mystic  life  has  got  to  express  itself  in  action  :  and 
for  this  new  paths  must  be  cut  and  new  habits  formed — all,  in 
spite  of  the  new  self s  enthusiasm,  "  against  the  grain."  The 
energy  which  wells  up  incessantly  in  every  living  being  must 
abandon  the  old  road  of  least  resistance  and  discharge  itself  in 
a  new  and  more  difficult  way.  The  old  paths,  left  to  them- 
selves, must  fade  and  at  last  die.  When  they  are  dead,  and  the 
new  life  has  triumphed,  Mortification  is  at  an  end.  The  mystics 
always  know  when  this  moment  comes.  An  inner  voice  then 
warns  them  to  lay  their  active  penances  aside. 

Since  the  greater  and  stronger  the  mystic,  the  stronger  and 
more  stubborn  his  character  tends  to  be,  this  change  of  life  and 
turning  of  energy  from  the  old  and  easy  channels  to  the  new 
is  often  a  stormy  matter.  It  is  a  period  of  actual  battle 
between  the  inharmonious  elements  of  the  self,  its  lower  and 
higher  springs  of  action  :  of  toil,  fatigue,  bitter  suffering,  and 
many  disappointments.  Nevertheless,  in  spite  of  its  etymo- 
logical associations,  the  object  of  mortification  is  not  death  but 
life:  the  production  of  health  and  strength,  the  health  and 
strength  of  the  human  consciousness  viewed  sub  specie  aeter- 
nitatis.  "In  the  truest  death  of  all  created  things,  the  sweetest 
and  most  natural  life  is  hidden." x 

"  This  dying,"  says  Tauler  again,  "  has  many  degrees,  and  so 
has  this  life.  A  man  might  die  a  thousand  deaths  in  one  day, 
and  find  at  once  a  joyful  life  corresponding  to  each  of  them.  This 
is  as  it  must  be :  God  cannot  deny  or  refuse  this  to  death. 
The  stronger  the  death  the  more  powerful  and  thorough  is  the 
corresponding  life ;  the  more  intimate  the  death,  the  more 
inward  is  the  life.  Each  life  brings  strength,  and  strengthens 
to  a  harder  death.  When  a  man  dies  to  a  scornful  word,  bear- 
ing it  in  God's  name,  or  to  some  inclination  inward  or  outward, 
acting  or  not  acting  against  his  own  will,  be  it  in  love  or  grief,  in 
word  or  act,  in  going  or  staying ;  or  if  he  denies  his  desires  of 
taste  or  sight,  or  makes  no  excuse  when  wrongfully  accused  ;  or 
anything  else  whatever  it  may  be  to  which  he  has  not  yet  died, 
it  is  harder  at  first  to  one  who  is  unaccustomed  to  it  and  un- 
modified than  to  him  who  is  mortified.  ...  A  great  life  makes 
reply  to  him  who  dies  in  earnest  even  in  the  least  things,  a  life 
which  strengthens  him  immediately  to  die  a  greater  death  ;  a 

1  Tauler,  Sermon  on  St.  Paul  ("  The  Inner  Way,"  p.  114). 


THE  PURIFICATION  OF  THE  SELF  26)J 

death  so  long  and  strong,  that  it  seems  to  him  hereafter  more 
joyful,  good  and  pleasant  to  die  than  to  live,  for  he  finds  life  in 
death  and  light  shining  in  darkness." x 

No  more  than  detachment,  then,  is  mortification  an  end  in 
itself.  It  is  a  means  to  the  production  of  a  definite  kind  of 
efficiency,  a  definite  kind  of  vitality :  like  its  physical  parallel, 
the  exercises  of  the  gymnasium.  Once  this  efficiency,  this 
vitality,  is  produced,  this  training  accomplished,  mortification 
ends :  often  with  startling  abruptness.  After  a  martyrdom 
which  lasted  sixteen  years,  says  Suso — speaking  as  usual  in  the 
third  person — of  his  own  experience,  "  On  a  certain  Whitsun 
Day  a  heavenly  messenger  appeared  to  him,  and  ordered  him  in 
God's  name  to  continue  it  no  more.  He  at  once  ceased,  and 
threw  all  the  instruments  of  his  sufferings  [irons,  nails,  hair- 
shirt,  &c]  into  a  river."  2  From  this  time  onward,  austerities 
of  this  sort  had  no  part  in  Suso's  life. 

The  unknown  French  ecstatic  who  wrote,  and  the  English 
contemplative  who  translated,  "  The  Mirror  of  Simple  Souls,"  3 
have  between  them  described  and  explained  in  bold  and 
accurate  language  the  conditions  under  which  the  soul  is 
enabled  to  abandon  that  "  hard  service  of  the  virtues  "  which 
has  absorbed  it  during  the  Purgative  Way.  The  statement  of 
the  "  French  Book  "  is  direct  and  uncompromising  :  well  calcu- 
lated to  startle  timid  piety.  "  Virtues,  I  take  leave  of  you  for 
evermore !  "  exclaims  the  Soul.  "  Now  shall  my  heart  be  more 
free  and  more  in  peace  than  it  has  been.  Forsooth,  I  wot  well 
your  service  is  too  travaillous.  Some  time  I  laid  my  heart  in 
you  without  any  dissevering:  ye  wjot  well  this.  I  was  in  all 
things  to  you  obedient.  O  then  I  was  your  servant :  but  now  I 
am  delivered  out  of  your  thraldom." 

To  this  astounding  utterance  the  English  translator  has 
added  a  singularly  illuminating  gloss.  "  I  am  stirred  here," 
he  says,  "  to  say  more  of  the  matter,  as  thus :  First  when  a  soul 
gives  her  to  perfection,  she  labours  busily  day  and  night  to  get 
virtues  by  counsel  of  reason,  and  strives  with  vices  at  every 
thought,  at  every  word  and  deed  that  she  perceives  comes  of 
them,  and  busily  ensearches  vices,  them  to  destroy.     Thus  the 

1  Tauler,  Second  Sermon  for  Easter  Day.  (This  is  not  included  in  either  of  the 
English  collections.) 

2  Suso,  Leben,  cap.  xvii.  3  B.M.  Add.  37790. 


264  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

virtues  be  mistresses,  and  every  virtue  makes  her  to  war  with 
its  contrary,  the  which  be  vices.  Many  sharp  pains  and  bitter- 
ness of  conscience  feels  the  soul  in  this  war.  .  .  .  But  so  long 
one  may  bite  on  the  bitter  bark  of  the  nut,  that  at  last  he  shall 
come  to  the  sweet  kernel :  right  so,  shortly  to  understand,  it 
fares  by  these  souls  that  be  come  to  peace.  They  have  so  long 
striven  with  vices  and  wrought  by  virtues  that  they  be  come  to 
the  nut's  kernel,  that  is  to  say  to  the  love  of  God,  which  is 
sweetness.  And  when  the  soul  has  deeply  tasted  this  love  .  .  . 
then  the  soul  is  wondrous  light  and  gladsome.  Then  is  she 
mistress  and  lady  over  the  virtues,  for  she  has  them  all  within 
herself.  .  .  .  And  then  this  soul  takes  leave  of  virtues,  as  of  the 
thraldom  and  painful  travail  of  them  that  she  had  before.  And 
now  she  is  lady  and  sovereign  and  they  be  subjects." 
Jacopone  da  Todi  speaks  to  the  same  effect : — 

"  La  guerra  e  terminata 
de  le  virtu  battaglia 
de  la  mente  travaglia 
cosa  nulla  contende."  x 

So  too  in  the  case  of  St.  Catherine  of  Genoa,  after  a  penitential 
period  of  four  years,  during  which  she  was  haunted  by  a  con- 
stant sense  of  sin,  and  occupied  by  incessant  mortifications,  "  all 
thought  of  such  mortifications  was  in  an  instant  taken  from 
her  mind :  in  such  a  manner  that,  had  she  even  wished  to 
continue  such  mortifications,  she  would  have  been  unable 
to  do  so  .  .  .  the  sight  of  her  sins  was  now  taken  from  her 
mind,  so  that  henceforth  she  did  not  catch  a  glimpse  of  them  : 
it  was  as  though  they  had  all  been  cast  into  the  depths  of  the 
sea."2  In  other  words,  the  new  and  higher  centre  of  conscious- 
ness, finally  established,  asserted  itself  and  annihilated  the  old. 
"  La  guerra  e  terminata,"  all  the  energy  of  a  strong  nature  flows 
freely  in  the  new  channels,  and  mortification  ceases,  mechanically, 
to  be  possible  to  the  now  unified  or  "  regenerated  "  self. 

Mortification  takes  its  name  from  the  reiterated  statement  of 
all  ascetic  writers  that  the  senses,  or  body  of  desire,  with  the 
cravings  which  are  excited  by  different  aspects  of  the  pheno- 

1  "  The  war  is  at  an  end  :  in  the  battle  of  virtues,  in  travail  of  mind,  there  is  no 
more  striving"  (Lauda  xci.). 

2  Vita  e  Dottrina,  cap.  v. 


THE   PURIFICATION   OF  THE   SELF  265 

menal  world,  must  be  mortified  or  killed  ;  which  is,  of 
course,  but  the  statement  of  psychological  necessities  from 
another  point  of  view.  All  those  self-regarding  instincts — so 
ingrained  that  they  have  become  automatic — which  impel  the 
self  to  choose  the  more  comfortable  part,  are  seen  by  the 
awakened  intuition  of  the  embryo  mystic  as  gross  infringements 
of  the  law  of  love.  "  This  then  must  be  the  travail  and  labour 
of  a  man,  to  draw  his  heart  and  mind  from  the  fleshly  love  and 
liking  of  all  earthly  creatures,  from  vain  thoughts  and  from 
fleshly  imaginations  and  from  the  love  and  vicious  feeling  of 
himself,  so  that  the  soul  shall  or  may  find  or  take  no  rest  in  any 
fleshly  thoughts  or  worldly  affections."  l  The  rule  of  Poverty 
must  be  applied  to  all  the  circumstances  of  normal  conscious- 
ness as  well  as  to  the  tastes  and  possessions  of  the  self.  Under 
this  tonic  influence  real  life  will  thrive,  unreal  life  will  wither 
and  die. 

This  mortifying  process  is  rendered  necessary,  not  because  1 
the  legitimate  exercise  of  the  senses  is  opposed  to  Divine  Reality, 
but  because  those  senses  have  usurped  a  place  beyond  their 
station ;  become  the  focus  of  energy,  steadily  drained  the 
vitality  of  the  self.  "  The  dogs  have  taken  the  children's  meat." 
The  senses  have  grown  stronger  than  their  masters,  monopolized 
the  field  of  perception,  dominated  an  organism  which  was  made 
for  greater  activities,  and  built  up  those  barriers  of  individuality 
which  must  one  and  all  be  done  away  before  the  subject  can 
fulfil  its  destiny  and  pass  over  into  the  boundless  life  of  the 
One.  It  is  thanks  to  this  wrong  distribution  of  energy,  this  sedu- 
lous feeding  of  the  cuckoo  in  the  nest,  that "  in  order  to  approach 
the  Absolute,  mystics  must  withdraw  from  everything,  even 
themselves."  2  "  It  is  therefore  supreme  ignorance  for  any  one  to 
think  that  he  can  ever  attain  to  the  high  estate  of  union  with 
God  before  he  casts  away  from  him  the  desire  of  natural  things," 
says  St.  John  of  the  Cross,3  "  and  of  supernatural  also  so  far  as 
it  concerns  self-love,  because  the  distance  between  them  and 
that  which  takes  place  in  the  state  of  pure  transformation 
in  God  is  the  very  greatest."  Again,  "  until  the  desires  be 
lulled  to  sleep  by  the  mortification  of  sensuality,  and  sensuality 

1  Walter  Hilton,  "The  Scale  of  Perfection,"  bk.  i.  pt.  iii.  cap. 
a  Recejac,  M  Fondements  de  la  Connaissance  Mystique,"  p.  78. 
3  "  Subida  del  Monte  Carmelo,"  1.  i.  cap.  v. 


266  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

itself  be  mortified  in  them,  so  that  it  shall  be  contrary  to  the 
spirit  no  more,  the  soul  cannot  go  forth  in  perfect  liberty  to  the 
fruition  of  the  union  with  the  Beloved." x 

The  death  of  selfhood  in  its  narrow  obvious  sense  is,  then, 
the  primary  object  of  mortification.  All  the  twisted  elements  of 
character  which  minister  to  the  existence  of  this  unreal  yet 
complex  creature  are  to  be  pruned  away.  Then  as  with  the 
trees  of  the  forest,  so  with  the  spirit  of  man,  strong  new 
branches  will  spring  into  being,  grow  towards  air  and  light. 
"  I  live,  yet  not  I "  is  to  be  the  confession  of  the  mystic  who 
has  endured  this  "  bodily  death."  The  self-that-is-to-be  will 
live  upon  a  plane  where  her  own  prejudices  and  preferences  are 
so  uninteresting  as  to  be  imperceptible.  She  must  be  weaned 
from  these  nursery  toys :  and  weaning  is  a  disagreeable  process. 
The  mystic,  however,  undertakes  it  as  a  rule  without  reluctance: 
pushed  by  his  vivid  consciousness  of  imperfection,  his  intuition 
of  a  more  perfect  state  necessary  to  the  fulfilment  of  his  love. 
Often  his  entrance  upon  the  torments  of  the  Purgative  Way,  his 
taking  up  of  the  spiritual  or  material  instruments  of  mortifica- 
tion, resembles  in  ardour  and  abruptness  that  "  heroic  plunge 
into  Purgatory  "  of  the  newly  dead  when  it  perceives  itself  in 
the  light  of  Love  Divine,  which  is  described  in  the  Treatise  of 
St.  Catherine  of  Genoa  as  its  nearest  equivalent.  "  As  she, 
plunged  in  the  divine  furnace  of  purifying  love,  was  united  to 
the  Object  of  her  love,  and  satisfied  with  all  he  wrought  in  her, 
so  she  understood  it  to  be  with  the  souls  in  Purgatory."  2 

This  "  divine  furnace  of  purifying  love "  demands  from 
the  ardent  soul,  not  only  a  complete  self-surrender  and 
voluntary  turning  from  all  impurity,  a  humility  of  the  most 
far-reaching  kind  :  but  also  a  deliberate  active  suffering,  a  self- 
discipline  in  dreadful  tasks.  As  gold  in  the  refiner's  fire,  so 
''burning  of  love  into  a  soul  truly  taken  all  vices  purgeth." 
Where  detachment  may  be  a  counsel  of  prudence,  a  practical 
result  of  seeing  the  true  values  of  things,  the  pain  of  mortification 
is  seized  as  a  splendid  opportunity,  a  love  token,  timidly  offered 
by  the  awakened  spirit  to  that  all-demanding  Lover  from 
Whom  St.  Catherine  of  Siena  heard  the  terrible  words  "  I,  Fire, 
the   Acceptor   of   sacrifices,   ravishing  away   from   them   their 

1  Op.  cit.y  bk.  i.  cap.  xv. 

a  S.  Caterina  di  Genova,  '■'  Trattato  di  Purgatorio,"  cap.  i. 


THE   PURIFICATION   OF  THE   SELF  2G7 

darkness,  give  the  light."  '  "  Suffering  is  the  ancient  law  of 
love,"  says  the  Eternal  Wisdom  to  Suso,  "  there  is  no  quest 
without  pain,  there  is  no  lover  who  is  not  also  a  martyr. 
Hence  it  is  inevitable  that  he  who  would  love  so  high  a  thing 
as  Wisdom  should  sometimes  suffer  hindrances  and  griefs."2 

The  mystics  have  a  profound  conviction  that  Creation, 
Becoming,  Transcendence,  is  a  painful  process  at  the  best. 
Those  amongst  them  who  are  Christians  point  to  the  Passion 
of  Christ  as  a  proof  that  the  cosmic  journey  to  perfection,  the 
path  of  the  Eternal  Wisdom,  follows  of  necessity  the  Way  of 
the  Cross.  That  old  dreadful  law  of  the  inner  life,  which 
sounds  so  fantastic  and  yet  is  so  bitterly  true — "  No  progress 
without  pain " — asserts  itself.  It  declares  that  birth  pangs 
must  be  endured  in  the  spiritual  as  well  as  in  the  material 
world :  that  adequate  training  must  always  hurt  the  athlete. 
Hence  it  is  that  the  mystics'  quest  of  the  Absolute  drives  them 
to  an  eager  and  heroic  union  with  the  reality  of  suffering,  as 
well  as  with  the  reality  of  joy.3 

This  divine  necessity  of  pain,  this  necessary  sharing  in  the 
travail  of  a  World  of  Becoming,  is  beautifully  described  by  Tauler 
in  one  of  those  "  internal  conversations  "  between  the  contem- 
plative soul  and  its  God,  which  abound  in  the  works  of  the 
mystics  and  are  familiar  to  all  readers  of  "  The  Imitation  of 
Christ."  "  A  man  once  thought,"  says  Tauler,  "  that  God  drew 
some  men  even  by  pleasant  paths,  while  others  were  drawn  by 
the  path  of  pain.  Our  Lord  answered  him  thus,  *  What  think 
ye  can  be  pleasanter  or  nobler  than  to  be  made  most  like  unto 
Me?  that  is  by  suffering.  Mark,  to  whom  was  ever  offered 
such  a  troubled  life  as  to  Me  ?  And  in  whom  can  I  better  work 
in  accordance  with  My  true  nobility  than  in  those  who  are  most 

1  Dialogo,  cap.  lxxxv.  2  Leben,  cap.  iv. 

3  "This  truth,  of  which  she  was  the  living  example,"  says  Huysmans  of  St. 
Lydwine,  "  has  been  and  will  be  true  for  every  period.  Since  the  death  of  Lydwine, 
there  is  not  a  saint  who  has  not  confirmed  it.  Hear  them  formulate  their  desires. 
Always  to  suffer,  and  to  die !  cries  St.  Teresa  ;  always  to  suffer,  yet  not  to  die, 
corrects  St.  Magdalena  dei  Pazzi ;  yet  more,  oh  Lord,  yet  more  !  exclaims  St.  Francis 
Xavier,  dying  in  anguish  on  the  coast  of  China  ;  I  wish  to  be  broken  with  suffering  in 
order  that  I  may  prove  my  love  to  God,  declares  a  seventeenth  century  Carmelite,  the 
Ven.  Mary  of  the  Trinity.  The  desire  for  suffering  is  itself  an  agony,  adds  a  great 
servant  of  God  of  our  own  day,  Mother  Mary  Du  Bourg ;  and  she  confided  to  her 
daughters  in  religion  that  '  if  they  sold  pain  in  the  market  she  would  hurry  to  buy 
it  there  '  "  (J.  K.  Huysmans,  "  Sainte  Lydwine  de  Schiedam,"  3rd  edition,  p.  225). 


268  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

like  Me?  They  are  the  men  who  suffer.  .  .  .  Learn  that  My 
divine  nature  never  worked  so  nobly  in  human  nature  as  by 
suffering ;  and  because  suffering  is  so  efficacious,  it  is  sent  out 
of  great  love.  I  understand  the  weakness  of  human  nature  at 
all  times,  and  out  of  love  and  righteousness  I  lay  no  heavier  load 
on  man  than  he  can  bear.  The  crown  must  be  firmly  pressed 
down  that  is  to  bud  and  blossom  in  the  Eternal  Presence  of  My 
Heavenly  Father.  He  who  desires  to  be  wholly  immersed  in 
the  fathomless  sea  of  My  Godhead  must  also  be  deeply  im- 
mersed in  the  deep  sea  of  bitter  sorrow.  I  am  exalted  far 
above  all  things,  and  work  supernatural  and  wonderful  works 
in  Myself :  the  deeper  and  more  supernaturally  a  man  crushes 
himself  beneath  all  things,  the  more  supernaturally  will  he  be 
drawn  far  above  all  things.' "  x 

Pain,  therefore,  the  mystics  often  court :  sometimes  in  the 
crudely  physical  form  which  Suso  describes  so  vividly  and 
horribly  in  the  sixteenth  chapter  of  his  Life,  more  frequently 
in  those  refinements  of  torture  which  a  sensitive  spirit  can 
extract  from  loneliness,  injustice,  misunderstanding — above 
all,  from  deliberate  contact  with  the  repulsive  accidents 
of  life. 

It  would  seem  from  a  collation  of  the  evidence  that  the 
typical  mystical  temperament  is  by  nature  a  highly  fastidious 
one.  Its  passionate  apprehension  of  spiritual  beauty,  its 
intuitive  perception  of  divine  harmony,  is  counterbalanced 
by  an  instinctive  loathing  of  ugliness,  a  shrinking  from  the 
disharmonies  of  squalor  and  disease.  Often  its  ideal  of  re- 
finement is  far  beyond  the  contemporary  standards  of  decency : 
a  circumstance  which  is  alone  enough  to  provide  ample  oppor- 
tunity of  wretchedness.  This  extreme  sensitiveness,  which 
appears  to  form  part  of  the  normal  psycho-physical  make-up 
of  the  mystic,  as  it  often  does  of  the  equally  highly-strung 
artistic  type,  is  one  of  the  first  things  to  be  seized  upon  by 
the  awakened  self  as  a  disciplinary  instrument.  Then  humi- 
lity's axiom,  "  Naught  is  too  low  for  love  "  is  forced  to  bear  the 
less  lovely  gloss,  "  Naught  must  be  too  disgusting." 

Two  reasons  at  once  appear  for  this.  One  is  the  innate 
contempt  for  phenomena,  nasty  as  well  as  nice — the  longing  to 
be  free  from  all  the  fetters    of  sense — which    goes  with    the 

1  Tauler,  Sermon  on  St.  Paul  ("The  Inner  Way,"  p.  114). 


THE  PURIFICATION  OF  THE  SELF  269 

passion  for  invisible  things.  Those  to  whom  the  attractions 
of  earth  are  only  illusion,  are  inconsistent  if  they  attribute  a 
greater  reality  to  the  revolting  and  squalid  incidents  of  life. 
St.  Francis  did  but  carry  his  own  principles  to  their  logical 
conclusion,  when  he  insisted  that  the  vermin  were  as  much  his 
brothers  as  the  birds.  Real  detachment  means  the  death  of 
preferences  of  all  kinds :  even  of  those  which  seem  to  other 
men  the  very  proofs  of  virtue  and  fine  taste. 

The  second  reason  is  a  nobler  one.  It  is  bound  up  with 
that  principle  of  self-surrender  which  is  the  mainspring  of  the 
mystic  life.  To  the  contemplative  mind,  which  is  keenly 
conscious  of  unity  in  multiplicity — of  God  in  the  world — all 
disinterested  service  is  service  of  the  Absolute  which  he  loves : 
and  the  harder  it  is,  the  more  opposed  to  his  self-regarding 
and  aesthetic  instincts,  the  more  nearly  it  approaches  his  ideal. 
The  point  to  which  he  aspires — though  he  does  not  always 
know  it — is  that  in  which  all  disharmony,  all  appearance  of 
vileness,  is  resolved  in  the  concrete  reality  which  he  calls  the 
Love  of  God.  Then,  he  feels  dimly,  everything  will  be  seen 
under  the  aspect  of  a  cosmic  and  charitable  beauty ;  exhibiting 
through  the  woof  of  corruption  the  web  of  eternal  life. 

It  is  told  of  St.  Francis  of  Assisi,  in  whom  the  love  of 
lovely  things  was  always  paramount,  how  he  forced  himself 
to  visit  the  lepers  whose  sight  and  smell  disgusted  him :  how 
he  served  them  and  even  kissed  them.1  "  Then  as  he  departed, 
in  very  truth  that  which  had  aforetime  been  bitter  unto  him,  to 
wit,  the  sight  and  touch  of  lepers,  now  changed  into  sweet- 
ness. For,  as  he  confessed,  the  sight  of  lepers  had  been  so 
grievous  unto  him  that  he  had  been  minded  to  avoid  not  only 
seeing  them,  but  even  going  nigh  their  dwelling.  And  if  at  any 
time  he  chanced  to  pass  their  abodes,  or  to  see  them,  albeit  he 
were  moved  by  compassion  to  do  them  an  alms  through  another 
person,  yet  alway  would  he  turn  aside  his  face,  stopping  his 
nostrils  with  his  hand.  But  through  the  grace  of  God  he 
became  so  intimate  a  friend  of  the  lepers  that,  even  as  he 
recorded  in  his  will,  he  did  sojourn  with  them  and  did  humbly 
serve  them." 

Also,  after  his  great  renunciation  of  all  property,  he,  once  a 
prosperous  young  man  who  had  been  "dainty  in  his  father's 

x  Thomas  of  Celano,  Legenda  Prima,  cap.  vii. ;  3  Soc.  cap.  iv. 


270  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

home,"  accustomed  himself  to  take  a  bowl  and  beg  scraps  of 
food  from  door  to  door :  and  here  too,  as  in  the  case  of  the 
lepers,  that  which  at  first  seemed  revolting  became  to  him 
sweet.  "And  when  he  would  have  eaten  that  medley  of 
various  meats,"  says  the  legend,  "  at  first  he  shrank  back,  for 
that  he  had  never  been  used  willingly  even  to  see,  much  less 
to  eat,  such  scraps.  At  length,  conquering  himself,  he  began 
to  eat ;  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  in  eating  no  rich  syrup  had 
he  ever  tasted  aught  so  delightsome."  » 

The  object,  then,  of  this  self-discipline  is,  like  the  object  of 
all  purgation,  freedom :  freedom  from  the  fetters  of  the  senses, 
the  "  remora  of  desire,"  from  the  results  of  environment  and 
worldly  education,  from  pride  and  prejudice,  preferences  and 
distaste  :  from  selfhood  in  every  form.  Its  effect  is  a  sharp 
reaction  to  the  joy  of  self-conquest.  The  very  act  that  had 
once  caused  in  the  enchained  self  a  movement  of  loathing 
becomes  not  merely  indifferent,  but  an  occasion  of  happiness. 
So  Margery  Kempe  "  had  great  mourning  and  sorrowing  if  she 
might  not  kiss  a  leper  when  she  met  them  in  the  way  for  the 
love  of  our  Lord,  which  was  all  contrary  to  her  disposition  in  the 
years  of  her  youth  and  prosperity,  for  then  she  abhorred  them 
most."  2 

I  will  spare  the  sensitive  reader  a  detailed  account  of  the 
loathsome  ordeals  by  which  St.  Catherine  of  Genoa  and 
Madame  Guyon  strove  to  cure  themselves  of  squeamishness  3 
and  acquire  this  liberty  of  spirit.  They,  like  St.  Francis,  St. 
Elizabeth  of  Hungary,  and  countless  other  seekers  for  the  Real, 
sought  out  and  served  with  humility  and  love  the  sick  and  the 
unclean :  associated  themselves  at  all  costs  with  life  in  its 
meanest  forms  :  compelled  themselves  to  contact  with  the  most 
revolting  substances :  and  tried  to  suppress  the  surface-con- 
sciousness by  the  traditional  ascetic  expedient  of  deliberately 
opposing  all — even  its  most  natural  and  harmless — inclinations. 
"In  the  first  four  years  after  she  received  the  sweet  wound  from 
her  Lord,"  says  the  Life  of  Catherine  of  Genoa,  she  "  made  great 

1  3  Soc.  cap.  vii. 

2  "  A  Short  Treatise  of  Contemplation  taken  out  of  the  boke  of  Margery  Kempe 
ancresse  of  Lynne."  London,  1521.  This  has  been  reprinted  by  Mr.  E.  Gardner 
in  "The  Cell  of  Self- Knowledge,"   1910,  p.  49. 

3  The  curious  are  referred  to  the  original  authorities.  For  St.  Catherine, 
chapter  viii.  of  the  Vita  e  Dottrina :  for  Madame  Guyon,  Vie,  pt.   i.  ch.  x. 


THE   PURIFICATION   OF  THE  SELF  271 

penances  :  so  that  all  her  senses  were  mortified.  And  first,  so 
soon  as  she  perceived  that  her  nature  desired  anything,  at  once 
she  deprived  it  thereof,  and  did  so  that  it  should  receive  all 
those  things  that  it  abhorred.  She  wore  harsh  hair,  ate  no  meat 
nor  any  other  thing  that  she  liked  ;  ate  no  fruit  neither  fresh  nor 
dried  .  .  .  and  she  lived  greatly  submitted  to  all  persons,  and 
always  sought  to  do  all  those  things  which  were  contrary  to  her 
own  will ;  in  such  a  way  that  she  was  always  inclined  to  do  more 
promptly  the  will  of  others  than  her  own."  .  .  .  "And  while  she 
worked  such  and  so  many  mortifications  of  all  her  senses  it  was 
several  times  asked  of  her  '  Why  do  you  do  this  ? '  And  she 
answered,  '  I  do  not  know,  but  I  feel  myself  drawn  inwardly  to 
do  this  .  .  .  and  I  think  it  is  God's  will.' " x 

St.  Ignatius  Loyola,  in  the  world  a  highly  bred  Spanish 
gentleman  of  refined  personal  habits,  found  in  those  habits  an 
excellent  opportunity  of  mortification.  "  As  he  was  somewhat 
nice  about  the  arrangement  of  his  hair,  as  was  the  fashion  of 
those  days  and  became  him  not  ill,  he  allowed  it  to  grow 
naturally,  and  neither  combed  it  nor  trimmed  it  nor  wore  any 
head  covering  by  day  or  night.  For  the  same  reason  he  did  not 
pare  his  finger  or  toe  nails;  for  on  these  points  he  had  been 
fastidious  to  an  extreme."2 

Madame  Guyon,  a  delicate  girl  of  the  leisured  class,  ac- 
customed to  the  ordinary  comforts  of  her  station,  seemed 
impelled  to  the  most  primitive  and  crude  forms  of  mortification 
in  her  efforts  towards  the  acquirement  of  "  indifference."  But, 
owing  no  doubt  to  the  peculiar  psychic  constitution  which  after- 
wards showed  itself  in  the  forms  of  automatism  and  clairvoyance, 
her  intense  concentration  upon  the  transcendental  life  produced 
a  partial  anaesthesia.  "  Although  I  had  a  very  delicate  body, 
the  instruments  of  penitence  tore  my  flesh  without,  as  it  seemed 
to  me,  causing  pain.  I  wore  girdles  of  hair  and  of  sharp  iron, 
I  often  held  wormwood  in  my  mouth."  "  If  I  walked,  I  put 
stones  in  my  shoes.  These  things,  my  God,  Thou  didst  first 
inspire  me  to  do,  in  order  that  I  might  be  deprived  even  of  the 
most  innocent  satisfactions."  3 

The  developing  mystical  consciousness  made  ever  sharper 
and  sharper  war  upon  Madame  Guyon's  delicate  and  fastidious 

z  Vita  e  Dottrina,  cap.  v.  2  Testament,  cap,  ii.  (Rix's  translation). 

3  Vie,  pt.  i.  cap.  x. 


272  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

surface-personality.  The  impulses  from  below  the  threshold,  so 
utterly  at  variance  with  her  own  instincts,  imposed  themselves 
upon  her  with  an  authority  which  seemed  to  her  to  possess  all 
the  marks  of  divine  commands.  "  Thou  wert  continually  with 
me,  Oh  my  God !  and  Thou  wert  so  severe  a  taskmaster  that 
Thou  wouldst  not  let  me  pass  over  the  smallest  things.  When 
I  thought  of  doing  anything,  Thou  didst  stop  me  abruptly  and 
madest  me  to  do  without  thinking  all  Thy  desires,  and  all  that 
was  most  repugnant  to  my  senses,  until  they  were  become  so 
docile  that  they  had  no  longer  either  desire  or  distaste  for 
anything.  ...  I  did  nothing  of  myself,  but  I  let  myself  be  led 
by  my  King,  who  ruled  me  absolutely  in  all  things."  * 

The  procuring  of  this  ascendancy  of  the  "  interior  man,"  the 
transcendental  consciousness,  over  the  distracted  and  normal 
personality  which  deals  with  the  manifold  illusions  of  daily  life, 
is,  as  we  have  seen,  the  main  business  of  Purgation.  It  is,  then, 
almost  impossible  that  any  mystic — whatever  his  religion, 
character  or  race — should  escape  its  battles  :  for  none  at  the 
beginning  of  their  career  are  in  a  position  to  dispense  with  its 
good  offices.  Neoplatonists  and  Mahommedans,  no  less  than 
the  Christian  ascetics,  are  acquainted  with  the  Purgative  Way. 
They  all  know  the  primal  secret  of  the  Spiritual  Alchemists, 
that  you  must  tame  the  Green  Lion  before  you  give  him  wings. 
Thus  in  'Attar's  allegory  of  the  Valleys,  the  valley  of  self- 
stripping  and  renunciation  comes  first.2  So  too  Al  Ghazzali,  the 
Persian  contemplative  of  whom  I  have  already  spoken,  says  of 
the  period  immediately  following  his  acceptance  of  the  prin- 
ciples of  Sufi-ism  and  consequent  renunciation  of  property,  "  I 
went  to  Syria,  where  I  remained  more  than  two  years,  without 
any  other  object  than  that  of  living  in  seclusion  and  solitude, 
conquering  my  desires,  struggling  with  my  passions,  striving  to 
purify  my  soul,  to  perfect  my  character,  and  to  prepare  my 
heart  to  meditate  upon  God."  At  the  end  of  this  period  of 
pure  purgation  circumstances  forced  him  to  return  to  the  world, 
much  to  his  regret,  since  he  "  had  not  yet  attained  to  the  perfect 
ecstatic  state,  unless  it  were  in  one  or  two  isolated  moments."  3 

Such  sporadic  gleams  of  ecstatic  vision,  distributed  through 
the  later  stages  of  purification,  seem  to  be  normal  features  of 

1  Op.  cit.,  loc.  cit.  f  2  Supra,  p.  156. 

3  Schmolders,  "Essai  sur  les  Ecoles  Philosophiques  chez  les  Arabes,"  p.  59. 


THE  PURIFICATION  OF  THE  SELF  273 

mystical  development.  Increasing  control  of  the  lower  centres, 
of  the  surface  intelligence  and  its  scattered  desires,  permits  the 
emergence  of  the  transcendental  perceptions.  We  have  seen 
that  Fox  in  his  early  stages  displayed  just  such  an  alternation 
between  the  light  and  shade  of  the  mystic  way.1  So  too  did 
that  least  ascetic  of  visionaries,  Jacob  Boehme.  "  Finding 
within  myself  a  powerful  contrarium,  namely  the  desires  that 
belong  to  the  flesh  and  blood,"  he  says,  "  I  began  to  fight  a 
hard  battle  against  my  corrupted  nature,  and  with  the  aid  of 
God  I  made  up  my  mind  to  overcome  the  inherited  evil  will,  to 
break  it,  and  to  enter  wholly  into  the  Love  of  God.  .  .  .  This, 
however,  was  not  possible  for  me  to  accomplish,  but  I  stood 
firmly  by  my  earnest  resolution,  and  fought  a  hard  battle  with 
myself.  Now  while  I  was  wrestling  and  battling,  being  aided 
by  God,  a  wonderful  light  arose  within  my  soul.  It  was  a  light 
entirely  foreign  to  my  unruly  nature,  but  in  it  I  recognized  the 
true  nature  of  God  and  man,  and  the  relation  existing  between 
them,  a  thing  which  heretofore  I  had  never  understood,  and  for 
which  I  would  never  have  sought."  2 

In  these  words  Boehme  bridges  the  gap  between  Purgation 
and  Illumination  :  showing  these  two  states  or  ways  as  co- 
existing and  complementary  one  to  another  ;  forming  the  light 
and  dark  sides  of  a  developing  mystic  consciousness.  As  a 
fact,  they  do  often  exist  side  by  side  in  the  individual  ex- 
perience :  3  and  any  treatment  which  exhibits  them  as  sharply 
and  completely  separated  may  be  convenient  for  purposes  of 
study,  but  becomes  at  best  diagrammatic  if  considered  as  a 
representation  of  the  mystic  life.  The  mystical  consciousness, 
as  we  have  seen,  belongs — from  the  psychological  point  of  view 
— to  that  mobile  or  "  unstable "  type  in  which  the  artistic 
temperament  also  finds  a  place.  It  sways  easily  between  the 
extremes  of  pleasure  and  pain  in  its  gropings  after  transcen- 
dental reality.  It  often  attains  for  a  moment  to  heights 
in  which  it  is  not  able  to  rest :  is  often  flung  from  some 
rapturous  vision  of  the  Perfect  to  the  deeps  of  contrition 
and  despair. 

The  mystics  have  a  vivid  metaphor  by  which  to  describe 

1  Supra,  p.  215. 

a  Hartmann,  "  Life  and  Doctrines  of  Jacob  Boehme,"  p.  50. 

3  Compare  the  case  of  St.  Teresa  already  cited,  supra,  p.  257. 


274  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

that  alternation  between  the  onset  and  the  absence  of  the 
joyous  transcendental  consciousness  which  forms  as  it  were  the 
characteristic  intermediate  stage  between  the  bitter  struggles  of 
pure  Purgation,  and  the  peace  and  splendour  of  the  Illuminative 
Life.  They  call  it  Ludus  Amoris,  the  "  Game  of  Love  "  which 
God  plays  with  the  desirous  soul.  It  is  the  "  game  of  chess," 
says  St.  Teresa, "in  which  game  Humility  is  the  Queen  without 
whom  none  can  checkmate  the  Divine  King."  x  "  Here,"  says 
Martensen,  "  God  plays  a  blest  game  with  the  soul." 2  The 
"  Game  of  Love  "  belongs  emphatically  to  that  state  of  imper- 
fection, of  struggle,  oscillation  and  unrest  which  precedes  the 
first  unification  of  the  self.  Once  this  event  has  taken  place, 
the  new  level  of  reality  has  been  attained,  it  is  known  no  more. 
Thus  St.  Catherine  of  Siena,  that  inspired  psychologist,  was 
told  in  ecstasy,  "  With  the  souls  who  have  arrived  at  perfection, 
I  play  no  more  the  Game  of  Love,  which  consists  in  leaving  and 
returning  again  to  the  soul ;  though  thou  must  understand  that 
it  is  not,  properly  speaking,  I,  the  immovable  GOD,  Who  thus 
elude  them,  but  rather  the  sentiment  that  My  charity  gives 
them  of  Me."  3  In  other  terms,  it  is  the  imperfectly  developed 
spiritual  perception  which  becomes  tired  and  fails,  throwing 
the  self  back  into  the  darkness  and  aridity  whence  it  has 
emerged. 

So  with  Madame  Guyon,  periods  of  "dryness" — the  orthodox 
name  for  such  spiritual  fatigue — recurred  at  intervals  during  the 
whole  of  the  Illuminated  Life.  So  we  are  told  of  Rulman 
Merswin4  that  after  the  period  of  harsh  physical  mortification 
which  succeeded  his  conversion  came  a  year  of  "  delirious  joy 
alternating  with  the  most  bitter  physical  and  moral  sufferings." 
It  is,  he  says,  "  the  Game  of  Love  which  the  Lord  plays  with 
His  poor  sinful  creature."  Memories  of  all  his  old  sins  still 
drove  him  to  exaggerated  penances  :  morbid  temptations  "  made 
me  so  ill  that  I  feared  I  should  lose  my  reason."  These  psychic 
storms  reacted  upon  the  physical  organism.  He  had  a  para- 
lytic seizure,  lost  the  use  of  his  lower  limbs,  and  believed 
himself  to  be  at  the  point  of  death.    When  he  was  at  his 

1  "  Camino  de  Perfection,"  cap.  xvii. 
a  Martensen,  "  Meister  Eckhart,"  p.  75. 

3  Dialogo,  cap.  lxxviii. 

4  Jundt,  "  Rulman  Merswin,"  pp.  19  and  20. 


THE  PURIFICATION  OF  THE  SELF  275 

worst,  however,  and  all  hope  seemed  at  an  end,  an  inward 
voice  told  him  to  rise  from  his  bed.  He  obeyed  and  found 
himself  cured.  Ecstasies  were  frequent  during  the  whole  of 
this  period.  In  these  moments  of  exaltation  he  felt  his  mind 
to  be  irradiated  by  a  new  light,  so  that  he  knew,  intuitively,  the 
direction  which  his  life  was  bound  to  take,  and  recognized  the 
inevitable  and  salutary  nature  of  his  trials.  "  God  showed 
Himself  by  turns  harsh  and  gentle :  to  each  access  of  misery 
succeeded  the  rapture  of  supernatural  grace."  In  this  inter- 
mittent style,  torn  by  these  constant  fluctuations,  did  Merswin, 
in  whom  the  psychic  instability  of  the  artistic  and  mystic  types 
is  present  in  excess,  pass  through  the  purgative  and  illuminated 
states.  They  appear  to  have  coexisted  in  his  consciousness, 
first  one  and  then  the  other  emerging  and  taking  control. 
Hence  he  did  not  attain  the  peaceful  condition  which  is 
characteristic  of  full  illumination  and  normally  closes  the 
"  First  Mystic  Life."  He  passed  direct  from  these  violent 
alternations  of  mystical  pleasure  and  mystical  pain  to  the 
state  which  he  calls  "the  school  of  suffering  love."  This,  as 
we  shall  see  when  we  come  to  its  consideration,  is  strictly 
analogous  to  that  which  other  mystics  have  called  the  "  Dark 
Night  of  the  Soul "  and  opens  the  "  Second  Mystic  Life  "  or 
Unitive  Way. 

Such  prolonged  coexistence  of  pain  and  pleasure  states  in 
the  developing  soul,  such  delay  in  the  attainment  of  equi- 
librium, is  not  infrequent,  and  must  be  taken  into  account  in 
all  attempts  towards  analysis  of  the  mystic  type.  Though  it  is 
convenient  for  the  purposes  of  study  to  practise  a  certain  dis- 
section, and  treat  as  separate  matters  which  are,  in  the  living 
subject,  hopelessly  intertwined,  we  should  constantly  remind 
ourselves  that  such  a  proceeding  is  artificial.  The  struggle  of 
the  self  to  disentangle  itself  from  illusion  and  attain  the 
Absolute  is  a  life-struggle.  Hence,  it  will  and  must  exhibit 
in  every  case  something  of  the  freedom  and  originality  of  life  : 
will,  as  a  process,  obey  artistic  rather  than  scientific  laws.  It 
will  sway  now  to  the  light  and  now  to  the  shade  of  experience : 
its  oscillations  will  sometimes  be  great,  sometimes  small.  Mood 
and  environment,  inspiration  and  information,  will  all  play  their 
part. 

There  are  in  this  struggle  three  factors. 


276  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

(i)  The  unchanging  light  ot  Eternal  Reality:  that  Pure 
Being  "which  ever  shines  and  nought  shall  ever  dim." 

(2)  The  web  of  illusion,  here  thick,  there  thin,  which  hems 
in,  confuses,  and  allures  the  sentient  self. 

(3)  That  self,  always  changing,  moving,  struggling — always, 
in  fact,  becoming — alive  in  every  fibre,  related  at  once  to  the 
unreal  and  to  the  real. 

In  the  ever-shifting  relations  between  these  three  factors,  the 
consequent  energy  engendered,  the  work  done,  we  may  find  a 
cause  of  the  innumerable  forms  of  stress  and  travail  which  are 
called  in  their  objective  form  the  Purgative  Way.  One  only  of 
the  three  is  constant :  the  Absolute  to  which  the  soul  aspires. 
Though  all  else  may  fluctuate,  that  goal  is  changeless.  That 
Beauty  so  old  and  so  new,  "  with  whom  is  no  variableness, 
neither  shadow  of  turning,"  which  is  the  One  of  Plotinus,  the 
All  of  Eckhart  and  St.  John  of  the  Cross,  the  Eternal  Wisdom 
of  Suso,  the  Unplumbed  Abyss  of  Ruysbroeck,  the  Pure  Love 
of  St.  Catherine  of  Genoa — awaits  yesterday,  to-day,  and  for 
ever  the  opening  of  Its  creature's  eyes. 

In  the  moment  of  conversion  those  eyes  were  opened  for  an 
instant:  obtained,  as  it  were,  a  dazzling  and  unforgettable 
glimpse  of  the  Uncreated  Light.  They  must  learn  to  stay 
open  :  to  look  steadfastly  into  the  eyes  of  Love  :  so  that,  in  the 
beautiful  imagery  of  the  mystics,  the  "  faithful  servant "  may 
become  the  "  secret  friend."  x  Then  it  is,  says  Boehme,  that  "  the 
divine  glimpse  and  beam  of  joy  ariseth  in  the  soul,  being  a  new 
eye,  in  which  the  dark,  fiery  soul  conceiveth  the  Ens  and 
Essence  of  the  divine  light."2  So  hard  an  art  is  not  to  be 
acquired  abruptly.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  more  in  accordance 
with  all  that  we  know  of  the  conditions  of  growth  that  its 
perfect  development  in  the  individual  should  be  preceded  by 
a  partial  acquirement ;  by  bewildering  moments  of  lucidity, 
by  splendid  glimpses,  whose  brevity  is  due  to  the  weakness 
of  the  new  and  still  unpractised  "  eye  which  looks  upon 
Eternity,"  the  yet  undisciplined  strength  of  the  "eye  which 
looks  upon  Time."  Of  such  a  nature  is  that  play  of  light  and 
dark,   of   exaltation    and    contrition,    which    bridges   the  gap 

1  See  Denis  the  Carthusian,  "  De  Contemplatione,"  bk.  iii.     The  metaphor  is 
an  ancient  one  and  occurs  in  many  mediaeval  writers. 
a  "  The  Epistles  of  Jacob  Boehme,"  p.  19. 


THE  PURIFICATION  ON  THE  SELF  277 

between  the  Purgative  and  the  Illuminative  states.  Each  by 
turn  takes  the  field  and  ousts  the  other ;  for  "  these  two  eyes 
of  the  soul  of  man  cannot  both  perform  their  work  at  once."  * 

To  use  another  and  more  domestic  metaphor,  that  Divine 
Child  which  was,  in  the  hour  of  the  mystic  conversion,  born  in 
the  spark  of  the  soul,  must  learn  like  other  children  to  walk 
alone.  Each  effort  to  stand  brings  with  it,  first  a  glorious  sense 
of  growth  and  then  a  fall :  each  fall  is  but  the  occasion  of 
another  struggle  towards  obtaining  the  difficult  balance  which 
comes  when  infancy  is  past.  There  are  many  eager  trials, 
many  hopes,  many  disappointments.  At  last,  as  it  seems 
suddenly,  the  moment  comes  :  tottering  is  over,  the  muscles 
have  learnt  their  lesson,  they  adjust  themselves  automatically, 
and  the  new  self  suddenly  perceives  itself — it  knows  not  how — 
as  standing  upright  and  secure.  That  is  the  moment  which 
marks  the  real  boundary  between  the  purgative  and  the 
illuminative  states. 

The  process  of  this  passage  of  the  "  new "  or  spiritual  man 
from  his  awakening  to  the  illuminated  life,  has  been  set  out  by 
Jacob  Boehme  in  language  which  is  at  once  poetic  and  precise. 
"  When  Christ  the  Corner-Stone  [i.e.,  the  divine  principle  latent 
in  man]  stirreth  himself  in  the  extinguished  Image  of  Man 
in  his  hearty  Conversion  and  Repentance,"  he  says,  "then 
Virgin  Sophia  appeareth  in  the  stirring  of  the  Spirit  of  Christ 
in  the  extinguished  Image,  in  her  Virgin's  attire  before  the 
Soul ;  at  which  the  Soul  is  so  amazed  and  astonished  in  its 
Uncleanness  that  all  its  Sins  immediately  awake  in  it,  and  it 
trembleth  before  her  ;  for  then  the  judgment  passeth  upon  the 
Sins  of  the  Soul,  so  that  it  even  goeth  back  in  its  unworthiness, 
being  ashamed  in  the  Presence  of  its  fair  Love,  and  entereth 
into  itself,  feeling  and  acknowledging  itself  utterly  unworthy  to 
receive  such  a  Jewel.  This  is  understood  by  those  who  are  of 
our  tribe  and  have  tasted  of  this  heavenly  Gift,  and  by  none 
else.  But  the  noble  Sophia  draweth  near  in  the  Essence  of  the 
Soul,  and  kisseth  it  in  friendly  Manner,  and  tinctureth  its  dark 
Fire  with  her  Rays  of  Love,  and  shineth  through  it  with  her 
bright  and  powerful  Influence.  Penetrated  with  the  strong 
Sense  and  Feeling  of  which,  the  Soul  skippeth  in  its  Body  for 
great  Joy,  and  in  the  strength  of  this  Virgin  Love  exulteth, 

1  "Theologia  Germanica,"  cap.Vii. 


278  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

and  praiseth  the  great  God  for  his  blest  Gift  of  Grace.  I  will 
set  down  here  a  short  description  how  it  is  when  the  Bride  thus 
embraceth  the  Bridegroom,  for  the  consideration  of  the  Reader, 
who  perhaps  hath  not  yet  been  in  this  wedding  chamber.  It 
may  be  he  will  be  desirous  to  follow  us,  and  to  enter  into  the 
Inner  Choir,  where  the  Soul  joineth  hands  and  danceth  with 
Sophia,  or  the  Divine  Wisdom."1 

1  Jacob  Boehme,  "  The  Way  to  Christ,"  pt.  i.  p.  23  (vol.  iv.  of  the  complete 
English  translation  of  Boehme's  works). 


CHAPTER   IV 
THE   ILLUMINATION   OF  THE  SELF 

Illumination,  the  characteristic  mystical  consciousness — Many  artists  attain  to  it — 
Part  of  the  normal  process  of  transcendence — Its  nature — Plotinus — The  "mystic 
dance"  —  Distinctive  character  of  Illumination — "Nature  mysticism" — Illumina- 
tion and  the  mysteries — Mystic  and  artist — The  chalice  of  the  Spirit  of  Life — Various 
forms  and  grades  of  illumination — It  always  seems  final  to  the  mystic — Must  be 
expressed  artistically — Often  received  in  visionary  form — Three  marks  of  this  state — 
(i)  The  sense  of  Divine  Presence,  (2)  the  lucid  vision  of  the  world,  (3)  automatic 
activity  —  Twofold  character  of  the  illuminated  consciousness  —  Sense  of  the 
Presence  of  God — The  source  of  mystic  joy — St.  Teresa — The  orison  of  union — 
St.  Bernard  —  Hugh  of  St.  Victor — Distinction  between  orison  of  union  and 
unitive  life — The  "sense  of  the  Presence"  and  active  life — Brother  Lawrence — 
Passivity — Madame  Guyon — St.  Catherine  of  Genoa  and  illumination — Nature  of 
illumination — An  access  of  new  light — Jacopone  da  Todi — Law — St.  Augustine — 
The  Vision  of  Reality — Dante — Angela  of  Foligno — Transcendent  and  Personal 
illumination — Suso — The  illuminated  vision  of  the  world — its  nature — Jacob  Boehme 
— Fox — Blake — The  mystics  and  animal  life — St.  Francis  of  Assisi — St.  Rose  of 
Lima — Platonism  and  illumination — Plotinus — The  Kabalah — Law — Illumination  a 
half-way  house— It  cannot  give  final  satisfaction  to  the  spiritual  consciousness 

IN  Illumination  we  come  for  the  first  time  to  the  considera- 
tion of  that  state  of  consciousness  which  is  popularly 
supposed  to  be  peculiar  to  the  mystic :  a  form  of  mental 
life,  a  kind  of  perception,  which  is  radically  different  from  that 
of  "  normal "  men.  His  preceding  adventures  and  experiences 
cannot  be  allowed  this  quality.  His  awakening  to  conscious- 
ness of  the  Absolute — though  it  be  often  accompanied  by 
circumstances  of  splendour  and  intensity  which  seem  to  mark 
it  off  from  other  psychic  upheavals  of  that  kind — does  but 
reproduce  upon  higher  levels  those  characteristic  processes  of 
conversion  and  falling  in  love  which  give  depth  and  actuality 
to  the  religious  and  passional  life.  The  purification  to  which 
he  then  sets  himself — though  this  does  as  a  rule  possess  certain 
features   which   are   confined   to   the   phenomena   of  mystical 


280  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

development — is  again  closely  related  to  the  mortifications 
of  ascetic,  but  not  necessarily  mystical,  piety.  It  is  the  most 
exalted  form  with  which  we  are  acquainted  of  that  process 
of  selection  and  self-discipline — that  pruning  and  training  of 
the  human  plant — which  is  the  essence  of  all  education  and 
a  necessary  stage  in  every  kind  of  transcendence.  Here,  the 
mystic  does  but  adopt  in  a  more  drastic  shape  the  principles 
which  all  who  would  live  with  an  intense  life,  all  seekers  after 
freedom,  all  true  lovers  must  accept :  though  he  may  justly 
claim  with  Ophelia  that  these  wear  their  rue  with  a  difference. 

But  in  the  mighty  swing  back  into  sunshine  which  is  the 
reward  of  that  painful  descent  into  the  "  cell  of  self-knowledge," 
he  parts  company  with  these  other  pilgrims.  Those  who  still 
go  with  him  a  little  way — certain  prophets,  poets,  artists, 
dreamers — do  so  in  virtue  of  that  mystical  genius,  that  instinct 
for  transcendental  reality,  which  seers  and  creators  so  often 
possess.  These  people  have  a  measure — sometimes  a  large 
measure — of  illumination  :  they  are  the  initiates  of  beauty 
or  of  wisdom,  as  the  great  mystic  is  the  initiate  of  love.  He 
has  now  obtained  a  veritable  foothold  in  that  transcendental 
world  into  which  they  too  can  penetrate  now  and  again :  has 
acquired  the  art  of  fellowship — not  yet  of  union — with  the 
"great  life  of  the  All,"  and  thence  draws  strength  and  joy. 
Really  and  actually,  as  one  whose  noviciate  is  finished,  he  has 
"entered  the  Inner  Choir,  where  the  Soul  joineth  hands  and 
danceth  with  Sophia,  the  Divine  Wisdom  " :  and,  keeping  time 
with  the  great  rhythms  of  the  spiritual  universe,  feels  that  he 
has  found  his  place. 

This  change  of  consciousness,  however  abrupt  and  amazing 
it  may  seem  to  the  self  which  experiences  it,  seems  to  the 
psychologist  a  normal  incident  of  that  organic  process  of 
development  which  was  initiated  by  the  first  awakening  of 
the  transcendental  sense.  Responding  to  the  intimations  re- 
ceived in  that  awakening,  ordering  itself  in  their  interest,  con- 
centrating its  scattered  energies  on  this  one  thing,  the  self 
emerges  from  long  and  varied  acts  of  purification  to  find  that 
it  has  pushed  through  to  another  order  of  reality.  It  has 
risen  to  acute  consciousness  of  a  world  that  was  always  there, 
and  wherein  its  substantial  being — that  Ground  which  is  of 
God — has  always  stood.     Such  a  consciousness  is  "  Transcen- 


THE  ILLUMINATION  OF  THE  SELF  281 

dental  Feeling"  in  excelsis:  a  deep,  intuitional  knowledge  of 
the  "secret  plan." 

As  a  chorus  about  its  choragus,  says  Plotinus  in  a  passage 
which  strangely  anticipates  Boehme's  metaphor,  so  do  we  all 
perpetually  revolve  about  the  Principle  of  all  Things.  But 
because  our  attention  is  diverted  by  looking  at  things  foreign 
to  the  choir — all  the  foolish  complexities  of  the  world  of 
appearance,  the  little  diurnal  incidents  of  that  existence 
which  we  call  life — we  are  not  aware  of  this.  Hence,  instead 
of  that  free  and  conscious  co-operation  in  the  great  life  of  the 
All  which  alone  can  make  personal  life  worth  living,  we  move 
like  slaves  or  marionettes,  and,  oblivious  of  the  whole  to  which 
our  little  steps  contribute,  fail  to  observe  the  measure  "  whereto 
the  worlds  keep  time."  Our  minds  being  distracted  from  the 
Corypheus  in  the  midst,  the  "  energetic  Word  "  who  sets  the 
rhythm,  we  do  not  behold  Him.  We  are  absorbed  in  the  illu- 
sions of  sense ;  the  "  eye  which  looks  on  Eternity "  is  idle. 
"  But  when  we  do  behold  Him,"  says  Plotinus,  "  then  we  obtain 
the  end  of  our  wishes,  and  rest.  Then  also  we  are  no  longer 
discordant,  but  form  a  truly  divine  dance  about  Him  ;  in  the 
which  dance  the  soul  beholds  the  Fountain  of  life,  the  Fountain 
of  intellect,  the  Principle  of  Being,  the  cause  of  good,  the  root 
of  soul."  x  Such  a  beholding,  such  a  lifting  of  consciousness 
from  a  self-centred  to  a  God-centred  world,  is  of  the  essence  of 
illumination. 

It  will  be  observed  that  in  these  passages  the  claim  of  the 
mystic  is  not  yet  to  supreme  communion,  to  that  "flight  of 
the  Alone  to  the  Alone "  which  is  the  Plotinian  image  for  the 
utmost  bliss  of  the  emancipated  soul.  A  vision,  and  a  know- 
ledge, which  is  the  result  of  conscious  harmony  with  the 
divine  World  of  Becoming,  is  the  ideal  held  out:  not  self- 
mergence  in  the  Principle  of  Life,  but  willing  and  harmonious 

1  Plotinus,  Ennead  vi.  9.  Compare  with  this  image  of  the  rhythmic  dance  of 
things  about  a  divine  Corypheus  in  the  midst,  those  strikingly  parallel  passages  in  the 
Apocryphal  ««  Hymn  of  Jesus  "  where  the  Logos  or  Christ,  standing  within  the  circle 
of  disciples,  says,  "  I  am  the  Word  who  did  play  and  dance  all  things."  "Now  answer 
to  My  dancing."  "  Understand  by  dancing  what  I  do."  Again,  •«  Who  danceth  not 
knoweth  not  what  is  being  done."  "  I  would  pipe,  dance  ye  all  !  "  and  presently  the 
rubric  declares,  "  All  whose  Nature  is  to  dance,  doth  dance!"  (See  Dr.  M.  R. 
James,  "Apocrypha  Anecdota,"  series  2;  and  G.  R.  S.  Mead,  "Echoes  from  the 
Gnosis:  the  Dance  of  Jesus."    Compare  supra,  p.  159.) 


282  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

revolution  about  Him,  that  "  in  dancing  we  may  know  what  fa 
done."  This  distinction  holds  good  in  almost  every  first-hand 
description  of  illumination  which  we  possess :  and  it  is  this 
which  marks  it  off  from  mystic  union  in  all  its  forms.  All 
pleasurable  and  exalted  states  of  mystic  consciousness  in  which 
the  sense  of  I-hood  persists,  in  which  there  is  a  loving  and 
joyous  relation  between  the  Absolute  as  object  and  the  self 
as  subject,  fall  under  the  head  of  Illumination  :  which  is  really 
an  enormous  development  of  the  intuitional  life  at  high  levels. 
All  veritable  and  first-hand  apprehensions  of  the  Divine  obtained 
by  the  use  of  symbols,  as  in  the  religious  life;  all  phases  of 
poetic  inspiration,  "glimpses  of  truth,"  are  activities  of  the 
illuminated  mind. 

To  "  see  God  in  nature,"  to  attain  a  radiant  consciousness  of 
the  "otherness  "of  natural  things,  is  the  simplest  and  commonest 
form  of  illumination.  Most  people,  under  the  spell  of  emotion 
or  of  beauty,  have  known  flashes  of  rudimentary  vision  of  this 
kind.  Where  such  a  consciousness  is  permanent,  as  it  is  in 
many  poets,1  there  results  that  partial  yet  often  overpowering 
apprehension  of  the  Infinite  Life  immanent  in  all  living  things 
which  some  modern  writers  have  dignified  by  the  name  of 
"  nature-mysticism."  Where  it  is  raised  to  its  highest  denomi- 
nation, till  the  veil  is  obliterated  by  the  light  behind,  and 
"  faith  has  vanished  into  sight,"  we  obtain  such  a  case  as  that 
of  Blake,  in  which  the  mystic  swallows  up  the  poet. 

"Dear  Sir,"  says  that  great  genius  in  one  of  his  most  character- 
istic letters,  written  immediately  after  an  onset  of  the  illuminated 
vision  which  he  had  lost  for  many  years, "  excuse  my  enthusiasm, 
or  rather  madness,  for  I  am  really  drunk  with  intellectual  vision 
whenever  I  take  a  pencil  or  graver  into  my  hand."  2  Many  a 
great  painter,  philosopher,  or  poet,  perhaps  every  inspired 
musician,  has  known  this  indescribable  inebriation  of  Reality 
in  those  moments  of  transcendence  in  which  his  masterpieces 
were  conceived.  This  is  the  "  saving  madness  "  of  which  Plato 
speaks  in  the  "Phaedrus";  the  ecstasy  of  the  "  God-intoxicated 
man,"  the  lover,  the  prophet,  and  the  poet  "drunk  with  life." 
When  the  Christian  mystic,  eager  for  his  birthright,  says 
"  Sanguis   Christi,  inebria  me  ! "  he  is  asking  for  just  such  a 

1  For  instance,  Keats,  Shelley,  Wordsworth,  Tennyson,  Browning,  Whitman. 
a  "  Letters  of  William  Blake,"  p.  171. 


THE  ILLUMINATION  OF  THE  SELF         283 

gift  of  supernal  vitality,  a  draught  of  that  Wine  of  Absolute 
Life  which  runs  in  the  arteries  of  the  world.  Those  to  whom 
that  cup  is  given  attain  to  an  intenser  degree  of  vitality,  hence 
to  a  more  acute  degree  of  perception,  a  more  vivid  conscious- 
ness, than  that  which  is  enjoyed  by  other  men.  It  is  the 
prize  of  which  purgation  is  the  price,  the  passing  "  from  death 
unto  life." 

Blake  conceived  that  it  was  his  vocation  to  bring  this 
mystical  illumination,  this  vision  of  reality,  within  the  purview 
of  ordinary  men:  to  "cleanse  the  doors  of  perception"  of  the 
race.     They  thought  him  a  madman  for  his  pains. 

"...  I  rest  not  irom  my  great  task 
To  open  the  Eternal  Worlds,  to  open  the  immortal  Eyes 
Of  Man  inwards  into  the  Worlds  of  Thought:  into  Eternity 
Ever  expanding  in  the  Bosom  of  God,  the  Human  Imagination. 
O  Saviour,  pour  upon  me  thy  Spirit  of  meekness  and  love, 
Annihilate  the  Selfhood  in  me  :  be  thou  all  my  life."  * 

The  Mysteries  of  the  antique  world  were,  one  and  all, 
attempts — often  by  the  wrong  road  of  a  merely  magical 
initiation — to  "  open  the  immortal  eyes  of  man  inwards  "  :  exalt 
his  powers  of  perception  until  they  could  receive  the  messages 
of  a  higher  degree  of  reality.  In  spite  of  much  eager  theorizing, 
it  is  impossible  for  us  to  tell  how  far  they  succeeded  in  this 
task.  In  the  case  of  those  who  had  a  natural  genius  for  the 
Infinite,  symbols  and  rituals  which  were  doubtless  charged 
with  ecstatic  suggestions,  and  which  often  dramatized  the 
actual  course  of  the  Mystic  Way,  may  well  have  brought  about 
some  change  pi  consciousness  : 2  though  hardly  that  complete 
rearrangement  of  character  which  is  an  essential  part  of  the 
mystic's  entrance  on  the  true  Illuminated  State.  Hence  Plato 
only  claims  that  "  he  whose  initiation  is  recent "  can  see 
Immortal  Beauty  under  mortal  veils 

"  O  blessed  he  in  all  wise, 

Who  hath  drunk  the  Living  Fountain, 


*  "Jerusalem,"  cap.  i. 

"  Compare  J.  E.  Harrison,  "  Prolegomena  to  the  Study  of  Greek  Religion," 
caps,  ix.,  x.,  and  xi.;  a  work  which  puts  the  most  favourable  construction  possible  on 
the  meaning  of  Orphic  initiation. 


284  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

Whose  life  no  folly  staineth 
And  whose  soul  is  near  to  God  : 
Whose  sins  are  lifted  pall-wise 
As  he  worships  on  the  Mountain."  * 

Thus  sang  the  initiates  of  Dionysus ;  that  mystery-cult  in  which 
the  Greeks  seem  to  have  expressed  all  that  they  knew  of  the 
possible  movement  of  consciousness  through  rites  of  purifi- 
cation to  the  ecstasies  of  the  Illuminated  Life.  The  mere  crude 
rapture  of  illumination  has  seldom  been  more  vividly  expressed. 
With  its  half-Oriental  fervours,  its  self-regarding  glory  in 
personal  purification  achieved,  and  the  soiritual  superiority 
conferred  by  adeptship,  may  be  compared  the  deeper  and 
lovelier  experience  of  the  Catholic  poet  and  saint,  who  repre- 
sents the  spirit  of  Western  mysticism  at  its  best.  His  sins, 
too,  had  been  "  lifted  pall-wise  "  as  a  cloud  melts  in  the  sunshine 
of  Divine  Love :  but  here  the  centre  of  interest  is  not  the  little 
self  which  has  been  exalted,  but  the  greater  Self  which  deigns 
thus  to  exalt. 

"  O  burn  that  burns  to  heal  ! 

O  more  than  pleasant  wound ! 
And  O  soft  hand,  O  touch  most  delicate, 

That  dost  new  life  reveal, 

That  dost  in  grace  abound 
And,  slaying,  dost  from  death  to  life  translate."2 

Here  the  joy  is  as  passionate,  the  consciousness  of  an 
exalted  life  as  intense:  but  it  is  dominated  by  the  distinctive 
Christian  concepts  of  humility,  surrender,  and  intimate  love. 

We  have  seen  that  all  real  artists,  as  well  as  all  pure 
mystics,  are  sharers  to  some  degree  in  the  Illuminated  Life: 
are  sojourners  in,  if  not  true  citizens  of,  the  land  of  heart's 
desire.  They  have  drunk,  with  Blake,  from  that  cup  of  intel- 
lectual vision  which  is  the  chalice  of  the  Spirit  of  Life:  know 
something  of  its  divine  inebriation  whenever  Beauty  inspires 
them  to  create.  Some  have  only  sipped  it.  Some,  like  John 
of  Parma,  have  drunk  deep ;  accepting  in  that  act  the  mystic 
heritage  with  all  its  obligations.  But  to  all  who  have  seen 
Beauty  face    to  face,  the  Grail   has   been   administered ;    and 

1  The  "  Bacchae  "  of  Euripides  (translated  by  Gilbert  Murray),  p.  83. 

a  St.  John  of  the  Cross,  "Llama  de  Amor  Viva  "  (translated  by  Arthur  Symons). 


THE  ILLUMINATION   OF  THE  SELF  285 

through  that  sacramental  communion  they  are  made  participants 
in  the  mystery  of  the  world. 

In  one  of  the  most  beautiful  passages  of  the  "Fioretti"  it  is 
told  how  Brother  Jacques  of  la  Massa,  "unto  whom  God 
opened  the  door  of  His  secrets,"  saw  in  a  vision  this  Chalice 
of  the  Spirit  of  Life  delivered  by  Christ  into  the  hands  of  St. 
Francis,  that  he  might  give  his  brothers  to  drink  thereof. 

"  Then  came  St.  Francis  to  give  the  chalice  of  life  to  his 
brothers :  and  he  gave  it  first  to  Brother  John  of  Parma :  who, 
taking  it,  drank  it  all  in  haste,  devoutly ;  and  straightway  he 
became  all  shining  like  the  sun.  And  after  him  St.  Francis 
gave  it  to  all  the  other  brothers  in  order :  and  there  were  but 
few  among  them  that  took  it  with  due  reverence  and  devotion 
and  drank  it  all.  Those  that  took  it  devoutly  and  drank  it  all, 
became  straightway  shining  like  the  sun  ;  but  those  that  spilled 
it  all  and  took  it  not  devoutly,  became  black,  and  dark,  and 
misshapen  and  horrible  to  see  ;  but  those  that  drank  part  and 
spilled  part,  became  partly  shining  and  partly  dark,  and  more 
so  or  less  according  to  the  measure  of  their  drinking  or  spilling 
thereof.  But  the  aforesaid  Brother  John  was  resplendent  above 
all  the  rest,  the  which  had  more  completely  drunk  the  chalice 
of  life,  whereby  he  had  the  more  deeply  gazed  into  the  abyss  of  the 
infinite  light  divine?  x 

No  image,  perhaps,  could  suggest  so  accurately  as  this  divine 
picture  the  conditions  of  perfect  illumination  :  the  drinking 
deeply,  devoutly,  and  in  haste — that  is,  without  prudent  and 
self-regarding  hesitation — of  the  heavenly  Wine  of  Life  ;  that 
wine  of  which  Rolle  says  that  it  "  fulfils  the  soul  with  a  great 
gladness  through  a  sweet  contemplation."  2  John  of  Parma,  the 
hero  of  the  Spiritual  Franciscans  in  whose  interest  this  exquisite 
allegory  was  composed,  stands  for  all  the  mystics,  who,  "having 
completely  drunk,"  have  attained  the  power  of  gazing  into  the 
abyss  of  the  infinite  light  divine.  In  the  brothers  who  drank 
part  and  spilled  part,  so  that  they  became  partly  shining  and 
partly  dark,  "according  to  the  measure  of  their  drinking  or 
spilling  thereof,"  we  may  see  an  apt  image  of  the  artist, 
musician,  prophet,  poet,  dreamer,  more  or  less  illuminated 
according  to  the  measure  of  self-abandonment  in  which  he  has 


x   i< 


Fioretti,"  cap.  xlviii.  (Arnold's  translation). 

Richard  Rolle  of  Hampole,"  ed.  Horstman,  vol.  ii.  p.  79. 


286  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

drunk  the  cup  of  ecstasy  :  but  always,  in  comparison  with  the 
radiance  of  the  pure  contemplative,  "  partly  shining  and  partly 
dark."  "  Hinder  me  not,"  says  the  soul  to  the  senses  in  Mech- 
thild  of  Magdeburg's  vision,  "  I  would  drink  for  a  space  of  the 
unmingled  wine."  x  In  the  artist,  the  senses  have  somewhat 
hindered  the  perfect  inebriation  of  the  soul. 

We  have  seen  that  a  vast  tract  of  experience — all  the 
experience,  in  fact,  which  results  from  contact  between  a  purged 
and  heightened  consciousness  and  the  World  of  Becoming  in 
which  it  is  immersed  ;  and  much,  too,  of  that  which  results  from 
contact  set  up  between  such  a  consciousness  and  the  Absolute 
Itself — is  included  in  that  stage  of  growth  which  the  mystics 
call  the  Illuminative  Way.  This  is  the  largest  and  most 
densely  populated  province  of  the  mystic  kingdom.  Such 
disparate  visionaries  as  Suso  and  Blake,  Boehme  and  Madame 
Guyon,  Mechthild  of  Magdeburg,  Fox,  Rolle,  St.  Teresa,  and 
countless  others  have  left  us  the  record  of  their  sojourn  therein. 
Amongst  those  who  cannot  justly  be  reckoned  as  pure  mystics 
we  can  detect  in  the  works  of  Plato  and  Heracleitus,  Words- 
worth, Tennyson,  and  Walt  Whitman  certain  indications  that 
they  too  were  acquainted,  beyond  most  poets  and  seers,  with 
the  phenomena  of  the  illuminated  life.  In  our  study  of  this 
degree  of  transcendence,  then,  we  shall  be  confronted  by  a  large 
mass  of  apparently  irreconcilable  material  :  the  results  of  the 
relation  set  up  between  every  degree  of  lucidity,  every  kind  of 
character,  and  the  suprasensible  world. 

To  say  that  God  is  Infinite  is  to  say  that  He  may  be  appre- 
hended and  described  in  an  infinity  of  ways.  That  Circle  whose 
centre  is  everywhere  and  whose  circumference  is  nowhere,  may 
be  approached  from  every  angle  with  a  certainty  of  being  found. 
Mystical  history,  particularly  that  which  is  concerned  with  the 
Illuminative  Way,  is  a  demonstration  of  this  fact.  Here,  in  the 
establishment  of  the  "  first  mystic  life,"  of  conscious  correspon- 
dence with  Reality,  the  self  which  has  oscillated  between  two 
forms  of  consciousness,  has  alternately  opposed  and  embraced 
its  growing  intuitions  of  the  Absolute,  comes  for  a  time  to  rest. 
To  a  large  extent,  the  discordant  elements  of  character  have 
been  purged  away.  The  "  dark  night  of  the  senses  "  has  been 
endured  :  though  the  more  terrible  "  night  of  the  spirit "  is  yet 

x  "  Das  Fliessende  Licht  der  Gottheit,"  pt.  i.  cap.  43. 


THE  ILLUMINATION  OF  THE  SELF  287 

to  come.  Temporally  at  least  the  mind  has  "unified  itself" 
upon  high  levels,  and  attained,  as  it  believes,  a  perdurable 
consciousness  of  the  divine  and  veritable  world.  The  depth 
and  richness  of  its  own  nature  will  determine  how  intense  that 
consciousness  shall  be. 

Whatever  its  scope,  however,  this  new  apprehension  of 
reality  at  first  appears  to  the  Illuminated  Self  as  final  and 
complete.  As  the  true  lover  is  always  convinced  that  he  has 
found  in  his  bride  the  one  Rose  of  the  World,  so  the  mystic 
is  sure  that  his  quest  is  now  fulfilled.  In  the  first  glow  of  his 
initiation  into  the  "  Perfect  Land "  he  can  conceive  no  higher 
rapture  than  this  :  no  more  intimate  adventure  of  the  soul. 
Ignorant  as  yet  of  that  final  act  of  communion  which  over- 
passes the  proceedings  of  the  inward  eye  and  ear,  he  exclaims 
with  entire  assurance,  "  Beati  oculi  qui  exterioribus  clausi, 
interioribus  autem  sunt  intenti,"  I  and,  absorbed  in  this  new  bliss- 
ful act  of  vision,  forgets  that  it  belongs  to  those  who  are  still 
in  via.  More  experience  is  needed  if  he  is  to  learn  how  many 
more  celestial  secrets  await  his  discovery ;  how  powerless  is  the 
heavenly  food  here  given  to  satisfy  his  "  hunger  for  the  Abso- 
lute " ;  how  far  removed  from  the  true  End  of  Being  is  this 
basking  in  the  sunbeams  of  the  Uncreated  Light,  this  revolving 
about  the  Principle  of  Things.  Only  the  very  greatest  souls, 
the  Galahads  of  the  quest,  learn  this  lesson  and  tread  the  whole 
of  that  "  King's  Highway  "  which  leads  man  back  to  his  source. 
"For  the  many  that  come  to  Bethlehem,  there  be  few  that 
will  go  on  to  Calvary."  The  rest  stay  here,  in  this  Earthly 
Paradise,  these  flowery  fields  ;  where  the  liberated  self  wanders 
at  will,  describing  to  us  as  well  as  it  can  now  this  corner,  now 
that,  of  the  Country  of  the  Soul. 

It  is  in  these  descriptions  of  the  joy  of  illumination — in  the 
outpourings  of  love  and  rapture  belonging  to  this  state — that 
we  shall  find  the  most  lyrical  passages  of  mystical  literature. 
Here  poet,  mystic,  and  musician  are  on  common  ground  :  for 
it  is  only  by  the  oblique  methods  of  the  artist,  only  by  the  use 
of  aesthetic  suggestion  and  musical  rhythm,  that  the  wonder 
of  that  vision  can  be  expressed.  When  essential  goodness, 
truth,  and  beauty — Light,  Life,  and  Love — are  apprehended 
by  the  heart,  whether  the  heart  be  that  of  lover,  painter,  saint, 

1  "  De  Imitatione  Christi,"  1.  iii.  cap.  i. 


288  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

that  apprehension   can   only  be  adequately  communicated   in 
a  living,  that  is  to  say,  an  artistic  form. 

Here,  then,  genius  and  sanctity  kiss  one  another,  and  each, 
in  that  sublime  encounter,  looks  for  an  instant  through  the 
other's  eyes.  Hence  it  is  natural  and  inevitable  that  the 
mystic  should  here  call  into  play  all  the  resources  of  artistic 
expression  :  the  lovely  imagery  of  Julian  and  Mechthild  of 
Magdeburg,  Suso's  poetic  visions,  St.  Augustine's  fire  and  light, 
the  heavenly  harmonies  of  St.  Francis  and  Richard  Rolle. 
Symbols,  too,  play  a  vast  part,  not  only  in  the  description,  but 
also  in  the  machinery  of  illumination  :  the  intuitions  of  many 
mystics  presenting  themselves  directly  to  the  surface-mind  in  a 
symbolic  form.  We  must  therefore  be  prepared  for  a  great 
variety  and  fluidity  of  expression  in  such  writers  as  have  tried 
to  communicate  to  us  the  secret  of  this  state  of  consciousness. 
We  must  examine,  and  even  classify  in  so  far  as  this  is  possible, 
a  wide  variety  of  experience  :  some  which  is  recognized  by 
friends  and  foes  alike  as  purely  "  mystical,"  some  in  which  the 
operation  of  poetic  imagination  is  clearly  discernible,  some 
which  involves  "psychic  phenomena"  and  other  abnormal 
activities  of  the  mind.  There  is  no  use  in  being  frightened 
away  from  investigation  by  the  strange,  and  apparently 
irreconcilable  aspect  of  these  things.  The  wounds  of  Truth 
are  as  faithful  as  the  wounds  of  a  friend. 

Now  there  are  three  main  types  of  experience  which  appear 
over  and  over  again  in  the  history  of  mysticism  ;  and  always  in 
connection  with  illumination,  rather  than  any  other  phase  of 
mystical  development.  I  think  that  they  may  fairly  be 
regarded  as  its  main  characteristics,  though  of  course  the 
discussion  of  them  cannot  cover  all  the  ground.  In  few  forms 
of  life  is  the  spontaneity  of  the  individual  so  clearly  seen  as 
here  :  and  in  few  is  the  ever-deadly  process  of  classification 
attended  with  so  many  risks. 

The  three  characteristics  which  I  propose  to  consider  are 
these  : — 

I.  A  joyous  apprehension  of  the  Absolute  :  that  which  many 
ascetic  writers  call  "the  practice  of  the  Presence  of  God."  This, 
however,  is  not  to  be  confused  with  that  unique  consciousness 
of  union  with  the  divine  which  is  peculiar  to  a  later  stage  of 
mystical  development     The  self,  though  purified,  still  seems  to 


THE  ILLUMINATION  OF  THE  SELF  289 

itself  to  exist  as  a  separate  entity.  It  is  not  immersed  in  its 
Origin,  but  contemplates  it.  This  is  the  "betrothal"  rather 
than  the  "  marriage  "  of  the  soixl. 

2.  This  clarity  of  vision  may  also  be  enjoyed  in  regard  to 
the  phenomenal  world.  The  actual  physical  perceptions  are 
strangely  heightened,  so  that  the  self  perceives  an  added 
significance  and  reality  in  all  natural  things  :  is  often  convinced 
that  it  knows  at  last  "the  secret  of  the  world."  In  Blake's 
words  "  the  doors  of  perception  are  cleansed  "  so  that  "  every- 
thing appears  to  man  as  it  is,  infinite." * 

Plainly,  these  two  forms  of  perception  represent  that  dual 
intuition  of  a  Transcendent-Immanent  Reality,  that  stretching 
of  consciousness  in  two  directions  until  it  includes  in  its 
span  both  the  World  of  Pure  Being  and  the  World  of  Becom- 
ing,2 which  we  found  to  be  one  of  the  distinguishing  marks  of 
the  mystic  type. 

3.  Along  with  this  two-fold  extension  of  consciousness,  the 
energy  of  the  intuitional  or  transcendental  self  is  enormously 
increased.  The  psychic  upheavals  of  the  Purgative  Way  have 
tended  to  make  it  central  for  life  :  to  eliminate  from  the  cha- 
racter all  those  elements  which  checked  its  activity.  Now  it 
seizes  upon  the  ordinary  channels  of  expression  ;  and  frequently 
shows  itself  in  such  forms  as  (a)  auditions,  (&)  dialogues  between 
the  surface  consciousness  and  another  intelligence  which  pur- 
ports to  be  divine,  (c)  visions,  and  sometimes  (d)  in  automatic 
writings.  This  automatic  activity  of  those  growing  but  still 
largely  subconscious  powers  which  constitute  the  "  New  Man," 
increases  steadily  during  the  whole  of  the  mystic  life. 

Illumination,  then,  tends  to  appear  mainly  under  one  or  all 
of  these  three  forms.  Often  all  are  present,  though,  as  a  rule, 
one  seems  to  dominate  the  rest.  The  character  of  each  case 
will  be  conditioned  by  the  self's  psychic  make-up,  its  tempera- 
mental leaning  towards  "pure  contemplation,"  "lucid  vision," 
or  automatic  expression,  emanation  or  immanence,  the  meta- 
physical, artistic,  or  intimate  aspects  of  truth.  The  possible 
combinations  between  these  various  factors  are  as  innumerable 
as  the  possible  creations  of  Life  itself. 

In  Brother  Lawrence's  "  Practice  of  the  Presence  of  God," 

1  "  The  Marriage  of  Heaven  and  Hell,"  xxii, 

2  Vide  supra,  pp.  42-50. 


290  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

in  St.  Bernard's  converse  with  the  Word,  in  Richard  Rolle's 
"  state  of  song,"  when  "  sweetest  heavenly  melody  he  took,  with 
him  dwelling  in  mind,"  we  may  see  beautiful  expressions  of  the 
first  form  of  illuminated  consciousness.  Jacob  Boehme  is 
rightly  looked  upon  as  a  typical  example  of  the  second  :  which 
is  also  found  in  one  of  its  most  attractive  forms  in  St.  Francis  of 
Assisi.  Suso  and  St.  Teresa,  perhaps,  may  stand  for  the  third, 
since  in  them  the  visionary  and  auditory  phenomena  were 
peculiarly  well  marked.  The  preliminary  study  of  each  cha- 
racteristic in  order,  will  help  us  to  disentangle  the  many  threads 
which  go  to  the  psychical  make-up  of  these  great  and  complex 
mystic  types.  The  rest  of  this  chapter  will,  then,  be  given  to 
the  analysis  of  the  two  main  forms  of  illuminated  consciousness  : 
the  selfs  perception  of  Reality  in  the  eternal  and  temporal 
worlds.  The  important  subject  of  voices  and  visions  demands 
a  division  to  itself. 


i.  The  Consciousness  of  the  Absolute,  or  "Sense  of 
the  Presence  of  God" 

This  consciousness,  in  its  various  forms,  is  perhaps  the  most 
constant  of  all  the  characteristics  of  Illumination  :  and  it  is  this 
which  makes  it,  for  the  mystic  soul,  a  pleasure-state  of  the 
intensest  kind.  I  do  not  mean  by  this  that  the  subject  passes 
months  or  years  in  a  continuous  ecstasy  of  communion  with  the 
Divine.  Intermittent  periods  of  spiritual  fatigue  or  "  aridity  "- 
the  last  vestiges  of  purgation — the  oncoming  gloom  of  the  Dark 
Night — all  these  may  be,  and  often  are,  experienced  at  intervals 
during  the  Illuminated  Life  ;  as  flashes  of  insight,  indistinguish- 
able from  illumination,  constantly  break  the  monotony  of  the 
Purgative  Way.  But  a  certain  knowledge  of  this  Personal  Life 
omnipresent  in  the  universe  has  been  achieved :  and  can  never 
be  forgotten  though  it  be  withdrawn.  The  "spirit  stretching 
towards  God  "  declares  that  it  has  touched  Him  ;  and  its  normal 
condition  henceforth  is  an  acute  and  joyous  consciousness  of 
His  Presence  with  "  many  privy  touchings  of  sweet  spiritual 
sights  and  feeling,  measured  to  us  as  our  simpleness  may  bear 
it." x  Where  he  prefers  less  definite  or  more  pantheistic 
language,    the    mystic's    perceptions   may   take   the    form    of 

1  Julian  of  Norwich,  "  Revelations,"  cap.  xliii. 


THE  ILLUMINATION   OF  THE   SELF  291 

"harmony  with  the  Infinite" — the  same  divine  music  trans- 
posed to  a  lower  key. 

This  "  sense  of  God"  is  not  a  metaphor.  Innumerable  decla- 
rations prove  it  to  be  a  consciousness  as  sharp  as  that  which  other 
men  have,  or  think  they  have,  of  colour,  heat,  or  light.  It  is  a 
well-known  though  usually  transitory  experience  in  the  religious 
life :  like  the  homing  instinct  of  birds,  a  fact  which  can  neither 
be  denied  nor  explained.  "  How  that  presence  is  felt,  may  better 
be  known  by  experience  than  by  any  writing,"  says  Hilton,  "  for 
it  is  the  life  and  the  love,  the  might  and  the  light,  the  joy  and 
the  rest  of  a  chosen  soul.  And  therefore  he  that  hath  once 
truly  felt  it  cannot  forbear  it  without  pain,  neither  can  he  choose 
but  desire  it,  it  is  so  good  in  itself  and  so  comfortable.  .  .  .  He 
cometh  secretly  sometimes  when  thou  art  least  aware  of  Him, 
but  thou  shalt  know  Him  full  well  ere  He  go ;  for  He  wonder- 
fully stirreth  and  mightily  turneth  thy  heart  into  the  beholding 
of  His  goodness,  and  then  doth  thy  heart  melt  delectably  as 
wax  against  the  fire  into  softness  of  His  love."1 

Modern  psychologists  have  laboured  hard  to  establish  the 
pathological  character  of  this  state  of  consciousness :  to  find  a 
place  for  it  in  the  hospitable  domain  of  "  psychic  hallucinations."2 
The  mystics,  however,  who  discriminate  so  much  more  delicately 
than  their  critics  between  true  and  false  transcendental  experi- 
ence, never  feel  any  doubt  about  the  validity  of  this  "sense  of 
the  presence."  Even  when  their  theology  contradicts  it,  they 
refuse  to  be  disturbed. 

Thus  St.  Teresa  writes  of  her  own  experience,  with  her 
usual  simplicity  and  directness,  "  In  the  beginning  it  happened 
to  me  that  I  was  ignorant  of  one  thing — I  did  not  know  that 
God  was  in  all  things :  and  when  He  seemed  to  me  to  be  so 
near,  I  thought  it  impossible.  Not  to  believe  that  He  was 
present  was  not  in  my  power  ;  for  it  seemed  to  me,  as  it  were, 
evident  that  I  felt  there  His  very  presence.  Some  unlearned 
men  used  to  say  to  me.  that  He  was  present  only  by  His  grace. 
/  could  not  believe  that,  because,  as  I  am  saying,  He  seemed  to 
me  to  be  present  Himself:  so  I  was  distressed.  A  most  learned 
man,   of  the   Order   of  the   glorious    Patriarch    St.    Dominic, 

1  "  The  Scale  of  Perfection,"  bk.  iii.  cap.  xi. 

3  See   Delacroix,  "  Etudes  sur  le  Mysticisme,"  Appendix  I.     "  Hallucinations 
Psychiques,  Sentiment  de  Presence." 


292  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

delivered  me  from  this  doubt ;  for  he  told  me  that  He  was 
present,  and  how  He  communed  with  us  :  this  was  a  great 
comfort  to  me."1 

Again,  ."An  interior  peace,  and  the  little  strength  which 
either  pleasures  or  displeasures  have  to  remove  this  presence 
(during  the  time  it  lasts)  of  the  Three  Persons,  and  that  without 
power  to  doubt  of  it,  continue  in  such  a  manner  that  I  clearly 
seem  to  experience  what  St.  John  says,  That  He  will  dwell  in 
the  soul,  and  this  not  only  by  grace,  but  that  He  will  also  make 
her  perceive  this  presence.2  St.  Teresa's  strong  "  immanental " 
bent  comes  out  well  in  this  passage. 

Such  a  sense  of  the  divine  presence  goes  side  by  side  with 
the  daily  life  and  normal  mental  activities  of  its  possessor ; 
who  is  not  necessarily  an  ecstatic  or  an  abstracted  visionary, 
remote  from  the  work  of  the  world.  It  is  true  that  the  tran- 
scendental consciousness  has  now  become,  once  for  all,  his  centre 
of  interest :  that  its  perceptions  and  admonitions  dominate  and 
light  up  his  daily  life.  The  object  of  education,  in  the  Platonic 
sense,  has  been  achieved  :  his  soul  has  "  wheeled  round  from  the 
perishing  world  "  to  "  the  contemplation  of  the  real  world  and 
the  brightest  part  thereof."  3 

In  many  temperaments  of  the  unstable  or  artistic  type,  this 
intuitional  consciousness  of  the  Absolute  becomes  ungovern- 
able :  it  constantly  breaks  through,  obtaining  forcible  possession 
of  the  mental  field  and  expressing  itself  in  the  "  psychic " 
phenomena  of  ecstasy  and  rapture.  In  others,  less  mobile, 
it  wells  up  into  an  impassioned  apprehension,  a  "  flame  of  love" 
in  which  the  self  seems  to  "  meet  God  in  the  ground  of  the 
soul."  This  is  "  pure  contemplation " :  that  state  of  deep 
orison  in  which  the  subject  seems  to  be  "seeing,  feeling  and 
thinking  all  at  once."  By  this  spontaneous  exercise  of  all  his 
powers  under  the  dominion  of  love,  the  mystic  attains  that 
"  Vision  of  the  Heart  "  which,  "  more  interior,  perhaps,  than  the 
visions  of  dream  or  ecstasy,"  4  stretches  to  the  full  those  very 
faculties  which  it  seems  to  be  holding  in  suspense ;  as  a  top 
"  sleeps "   when   it  is  spinning  fast.     Ego  dormio  et  cor  meum 

1  Vida,  cap.  xviii.  §  20. 

9  "  Letters  of  St.  Teresa  "  (1581),  Dalton's  translation,  No.  VII. 

3  "  Republic,"  vii.  518. 

4  Recejac,  "  Fondements  de  la  Connaissance  Mystique,"  p.  151 


!. 


THE  ILLUMINATION  OF  THE   SELF  293 

vigilat.  This  act  of  contemplation,  this  glad  surrender  to  an 
overwhelming  consciousness  of  the  Presence  of  God,  leaves  no 
sharp  image  on  the  mind  :  only  a  knowledge  that  we  have 
been  lifted  up,  to  a  veritable  gazing  upon  That  which  eye 
hath  not  seen. 

St.  Bernard  has  left  us  in  one  of  his  sermons  a  simple, 
ingenuous  and  obviously  personal  account  of  such  "privy 
touchings,"  such  convincing  but  elusive  contacts  of  the  soul  with 
the  Absolute.  "  Now  bear  with  my  foolishness  for  a  little," 
he  says,  "  for  I  wish  to  tell  you,  as  I  have  promised,  how  such 
events  have  taken  place  in  me.  It  is,  indeed,  a  matter  of 
no  importance.  But  I  put  myself  forward  only  that  I  may  be 
of  service  to  you  ;  and  if  you  derive  any  benefit  I  am  consoled 
for  my  egotism.  If  not,  I  shall  but  have  displayed  my  foolish- 
ness. I  confess,  then,  though  I  say  it  in  my  foolishness,  that  the 
Word  has  visited  me,  and  even  very  often.  But,  though  He 
has  frequently  entered  into  my  soul,  I  have  never  at  any  time 
been  sensible  of  the  precise  moment  of  His  coming.  I  have  felt 
that  He  was  present,  I  remember  that  He  has  been  with  me ;  I 
have  sometimes  been  able  even  to  have  a  presentiment  that  He 
would  come :  but  never  to  feel  His  coming  nor  His  departure. 
For  whence  He  came  to  enter  my  soul,  or  whither  He  went  on 
quitting  it,  by  what  means  He  has  made  entrance  or  departure, 
I  confess  that  I  know  not  even  to  this  day  ;  according  to  that 
which  is  said,  Nescis  unde  veniat  aut  quo  vadat.  Nor  is  this 
strange,  because  it  is  to  Him  that  the  psalmist  has  said  in 
another  place,    Vestigia  tua  non  cognoscentur. 

"It  is  not  by  the  eyes  that  He  enters,  for  He  is  without 
form  or  colour  that  they  can  discern ;  nor  by  the  ears,  for 
His  coming  is  without  sound  ;  nor  by  the  nostrils,  for  it  is 
not  with  the  air  but  with  the  mind  that  He  is  blended.  .  .  . 
By  what  avenue  then  has  He  entered?  Or  perhaps  the  fact 
may  be  that  He  has  not  entered  at  all,  nor  indeed  come  at 
all  from  outside  :  for  not  one  of  these  things  belongs  to  out- 
side. Yet  it  has  not  come  from  within  me,  for  it  is  good, 
and  I  know  that  in  me  dwelleth  no  good  thing.  I  have 
ascended  higher  than  myself,  and  lo !  I  have  found  the 
Word  above  me  still.  My  curiosity  has  led  me  to  descend 
below  myself  also,  and  yet  I  have  found  Him  still  at  a 
lower  depth.     If  I  have  looked  without  myself,  I  have  found  that 


294  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

He  is  beyond  that  which  is  outside  of  me ;  and  if  within, 
He  was  at  an  inner  depth  still.  And  thus  have  I  learned 
the  truth  of  the  words  I  have  read,  In  ipso  enim  vivimus 
et  movemur  et  sumus."  x 

Such  a  lifting  up,  such  a  condition  of  consciousness  as  that 
which  St.  Bernard  is  here  trying  to  describe,  seems  to  snatch  the 
spirit  for  a  moment  into  a  state  which  it  is  hard  to  distinguish 
from  that  of  true  "union."  This  is  what  the  contemplatives 
call  passive  or  infused  contemplation,  or  sometimes  the 
"  orison  of  union  "  :  a  brief  foretaste  of  the  Unitive  State,  often 
enjoyed  for  short  periods  in  the  Illuminative  Way,  which 
reinforces  their  conviction  that  they  have  now  truly  attained 
the  Absolute.  It  is  but  a  foretaste,  however,  of  that  attain- 
ment :  the  precocious  effort  of  a  soul  still  in  that  stage  of 
"  Enlightening  " — the  equivalent  of  Illumination, — which  the 
"  Theologia  Germanica "  declares  to  be  "  belonging  to  such  as 
are  growing."  2 

This  rather  fine  distinction  between  temporary  union  and 
the  Unitive  Life  is  perhaps  best  brought  out  in  a  fragment  of 
dialogue  between  Soul  and  Self  in  Hugh  of  St.  Victor's  mystical 
tract,  "  De  Arrha  Animae." 

The  Soul  says,  "  Tell  me,  what  can  be  this  thing  of  delight 
that  merely  by  its  memory  touches  and  moves  me  with  such 
sweetness  and  violence  that  I  am  drawn  out  of  myself  and 
carried  away,  I  know  not  how  ?  I  am  suddenly  renewed  :  I  am 
changed :  I  am  plunged  into  an  ineffable  peace.  My  mind  is 
full  of  gladness,  all  my  past  wretchedness  and  pain  is  forgot. 
My  soul  exults  :  my  intellect  is  illuminated  :  my  heart  is  afire : 
my  desires  have  become  kindly  and  gentle  :  I  know  not  where 
I  am,  because  my  Love  has  embraced  me.  Also,  because  my 
Love  has  embraced  me  I  seem  to  have  become  possessed  of 
something,  and  I  know  not  what  it  is ;  but  I  try  to  keep  it, 
that  I  may  never  lose  it.  My  soul  strives  in  gladness  that  she 
may  not  be  separated  from  That  which  she  desires  to  hold 
fast  for  ever:  as  if  she  had  found  in  it  the  goal  of  all  her 
desires.  She  exults  in  a  sovereign  and  ineffable  manner,  seek- 
ing nought,  desiring  nought,  but  to  rest  in  this.  Is  this,  then, 
my  Beloved?     Tell  me  that  I  may  know  Him,  and  that  if  He 

1  St.  Bernard,  "Cantica  Canticorum,"  Sermon  lxxiv. 
a  "  Theologia  Germanica,"  cap.  xiv. 


THE  ILLUMINATION   OF  THE   SELF  295 

come  again  I  may  entreat  Him  to  leave  me  not,  but  to  stay 
with  me  for  ever." 

Man  says,  "It  is  indeed  thy  Beloved  who  visits  thee ;  but 
He  comes  in  an  invisible  shape,  He  comes  disguised,  He  comes 
incomprehensibly.  He  comes  to  touch  thee,  not  to  be  seen  of 
thee :  to  arouse  thee,  not  to  be  comprehended  of  thee.  He 
comes  not  to  give  Himself  wholly,  but  to  be  tasted  by  thee  : 
not  to  fulfill  thy  desire,  but  to  lead  upwards  thy  affection.  He 
gives  a  foretaste  of  His  delights,  brings  not  the  plenitude  of  a 
perfect  satisfaction :  and  the  earnest  of  thy  betrothal  consists 
chiefly  in  this,  that  He  who  shall  afterwards  give  Himself  to  be 
seen  and  possessed  by  thee  perpetually,  now  permits  Himself  to 
be  sometimes  tasted,  that  thou  mayest  learn  how  sweet  He  is. 
This  shall  console  thee  for  His  absence :  and  the  savour  of  this 
gift  shall  keep  thee  from  all  despair."  x 

The-  real  distinction  between  the  Illuminative  and  the 
Unitive  Life  is  that  in  Illumination  the  individuality  of  the 
subject — however  profound  his  spiritual  consciousness,  however 
close  his  communion  with  the  Infinite — remains  separate  and 
intact.  His  heightened  apprehension  of  reality  governs  rather 
than  obliterates  the  rest  of  his  life :  and  may  even  increase  his 
power  of  dealing  adequately  with  the  accidents  of  normal 
existence.  Thus  Brother  Lawrence  found  that  his  acute  sense 
of  reality,  his  apprehension  of  the  Presence  of  God,  and  the 
resulting  detachment  and  consciousness  of  liberty  in  regard  to 
mundane  things,  upheld  and  assisted  him  in  the  most  unlikely 
tasks ;  as,  for  instance,  when  he  was  sent  into  Burgundy  to  buy 
wine  for  his  convent,  "  which  was  a  very  unwelcome  task  to  him, 
because  he  had  no  turn  for  business,  and  because  he  was  lame, 
and  could  not  go  about  the  boat  but  by  rolling  himself  over  the 
casks.  That,  however,  he  gave  himself  no  uneasiness  about, 
nor  about  the  purchase  of  the  wine.  That  he  said  to  God,  It 
was  His  business  he  was  about :  and  that  he  afterwards  found  it 
very  well  performed.  ...  So  likewise  in  his  business  in  the 
kitchen,  to  which  he  had  naturally  a  great  aversion."2 

The  mind,  concentrated  upon  a  higher  object  of  interest,  is 
undistracted  by  its  own  likes  and  dislikes  ;  and  performs 
efficiently  the  work  that  is  given  it  to  do.     Where  it  does  not 

1  Hugh  of  St.  Victor,  "De  Arrha  Animae  "  (Migne,  Patrologia  Latina,  vol.  clxxvi.). 

2  "  The  Practice  of  the  Presence  of  God,"  Second  Conversation. 


296  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

do  so,  then  the  normal  make-up  of  the  subject,  rather  than  its 
mystical  proclivities,  must  be  blamed.  St.  Catherine  of  Genoa 
found  in  this  divine  companionship  the  power  which  made  her 
hospital  a  success.  St.  Teresa  was  an  admirable  housewife,  and 
declared  that  she  found  her  God  very  easily  amongst  the  pots 
and  pans.1  Appearances  notwithstanding,  Mary  would  prob- 
ably have  been  a  better  cook  than  Martha,  had  circumstances 
forced  on  her  this  form  of  activity. 

In  persons  of  feeble  or  diffuse  intelligence,  however,  this 
deep  absorption  in  the  sense  of  Divine  Reality  may  easily 
degenerate  into  mono-ideism.  Then  the  "black  side"  of  Illu- 
mination, a  selfish  preoccupation  with  transcendental  joys,  the 
"  spiritual  gluttony  "  condemned  by  St.  John  of  the  Cross,  comes 
out.  "  I  made  many  mistakes,"  says  Madame  Guyon  patheti- 
cally, "through  allowing  myself  to  be  too  much  taken  up  by 
my  interior  joys.  ...  I  used  to  sit  in  a  corner  and  work,  but 
I  could  hardly  do  anything,  because  the  strength  of  this  attrac- 
tion made  me  let  the  work  fall  out  of  my  hands.  I  spent  hours 
in  this  way  without  being  able  to  open  my  eyes  or  to  know 
what  was  happening  to  me :  so  simply,  so  peacefully,  so  gently 
that  sometimes  I  said  to  myself,  'Can  heaven  itself  be  more 
peaceful  than  I  ? '  "  2 

Here  we  see  Madame  Guyon  basking  like  a  pious  tabby  cat 
in  the  beams  of  the  Uncreated  Light,  and  already  leaning  to 
the  extravagances  of  Quietism  with  its  dangerous  "  double 
character  of  passivity  and  beatitude."  The  heroic  aspect  of  the 
mystic  vocation  is  wholly  in  abeyance.  The  "  triumphing 
spiritual  life,"  which  her  peculiar  psychic  make-up  permitted 
her  to  receive,  has  been  treated  as  a  source  of  personal  and 
placid  satisfactions,  not  as  a  well-spring  whence  new  vitality 
might  be  drawn  for  great  and  self-giving  activities. 

It  has  been  claimed  by  the  early  biographers  of  St.  Catherine 
of  Genoa  that  she  passed  in  the  crisis  of  her  conversion  directly 
through  the  Purgative  to  the  Unitive  Life ;  and  never  exhibited 
the  characteristics  of  the  Illuminative  Way.  This  has  been 
effectually  disproved  by  the  Baron  von  Hiigel,3  though  he  too 
is  inclined  in  her  case  to  reject  the  usual  sequence  of  the  mystic 

1  G.  Cunninghame  Graham,  "Santa  Teresa,"  vol.  i.  p.  299. 

2  Vie,  pt.  i.  cap.  xvii. 

3  "Mystical  Element  of  Religion,"  vol.  i.  p.  105. 


THE  ILLUMINATION   OF  THE  SELF  297 

states.  Yet  the  description  of  Catherine's  condition  after  her 
four  great  penitential  years  were  ended,  as  given  in  cap.  vi.  of  the 
"  Vita  e  Dottrina,"  is  an  almost  perfect  picture  of  healthy  illu- 
mination of  the  inward  or  "  immanent "  type  ;  and  may  fruitfully 
be  compared  with  the  passage  which  I  have  quoted  from 
Madame  Guyon's  life. 

No  doubt  there  were  hours  in  which  St.  Catherine's  experi- 
ence, as  it  were,  ran  ahead  ;  and  she  felt  herself  not  merely  lit 
up  by  the  Indwelling  Light,  but  temporally  merged  in  it. 
These  moments  are  responsible  for  such  passages  as  the  beau- 
tiful fragment  in  cap.  v.,  which  does,  when  taken  alone,  seem  to 
describe  the  true  unitive  state.  "  Sometimes,"  she  said,  "  I  do 
not  see  or  feel  myself  to  have  either  soul,  body,  heart,  will  or 
taste,  or  any  other  thing  except  Pure  Love."1  Her  normal 
condition  of  consciousness,  however,  was  clearly  not  yet  that 
which  Julian  of  Norwich  calls  being  "  oned  with  bliss " ;  but 
rather  an  intense  and  continuous  communion  with  an  objective 
Reality  which  she  still  felt  to  be  distinct  from  herself.  "After 
the  aforesaid  four  years,"  says  the  next  chapter  of  the  "  Vita," 
"  there  was  given  unto  her  a  purified  mind,  free,  and  filled  with 
God :  insomuch  that  no  other  thing  could  enter  into  it.  Thus, 
when  she  heard  sermons  or  Mass,  so  much  was  she  absorbed  in 
her  interior  feelings,  that  she  neither  heard  nor  saw  that  which 
was  said  or  done  without :  but  within,  in  the  sweet  divine  light, 
she  saw  and  heard  other  things — being  wholly  absorbed  by 
their  interior  light :  and  it  was  not  in  her  power  to  act  other- 
wise." Catherine,  then,  is  still  a  spectator  of  the  Absolute, 
does  not  feel  herself  to  be  one  with  it.  "And  it  is  a  marvellous 
thing  that  with  so  great  an  interior  recollection,  the  Lord  never 
permitted  her  to  go  beyond  control.  But  when  she  was  needed, 
she  always  came  to  herself:  so  that  she  was  able  to  reply  to 
that  which  was  asked  of  her :  and  the  Lord  so  guided  her,  that 
none  could  complain  of  her.  And  she  had  her  mind  so  filled 
by  Love  Divine,  that  conversation  became  hard  to  her :  and  by 
this  continuous  taste  and  sense  of  God,  several  times  she  was  so 
greatly  transported,  that  she  was  forced  to  hide  herself,  that  she 
might  not  be  seen."  It  is  clear,  however,  that  Catherine  herself 
was  aware  of  the  transitory  and  imperfect  nature  of  this  intensely 
joyous  state.     Her  growing  transcendental  self,  unsatisfied  with 

1  Vita  e  Dottrina,  loc.  cit. 


298  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

the  sunshine  of  the  Illuminative  Way,  the  enjoyment  of  the 
riches  of  God,  already  aspired  to  union  with  the  Divine.  With 
her,  as  with  all  truly  heroic  souls,  it  was  love  for  love,  not  love 
for  joy.  "  She  cried  to  God  because  He  gave  her  so  many  con- 
solations, '  Non  voglio  quello  che  esce  da  Ut  ma  sol  voglio  te,  O 
dolce  Amove  ! ' "  z 

"  Non  voglio  quello  che  esce  da  te."  When  the  crescent  soul 
has  come  to  this,  the  Illuminative  Way  is  nearly  at  an  end.  It 
has  seen  the  goal,  "  that  Country  which  is  no  mere  vision,  but 
a  home,"  2  and  is  set  upon  the  forward  march.  So  Gertrude 
More :  "  No  knowledge  which  we  can  here  have  of  thee  can 
satisfy  my  soul  seeking  and  longing  without  ceasing  after  thee. 
.  .  .  Alas,  my  Lord  God,  what  is  al  thou  canst  give  to  a  loving 
soul  which  sigheth  and  panteth  after  thee  alone,  and  esteemeth 
al  things  as  dung  that  she  may  gain  thee  ?  What  is  al  I  say, 
whilst  thou  givest  not  thyself,  who  art  that  one  thing  which  is 
only  necessary  and  which  alone  can  satisfy  our  souls  ?  Was  it 
any  comfort  to  St.  Mary  Magdalen,  when  she  sought  thee,  to 
find  two  angels  which  presented  themselves  instead  of  thee? 
verily  I  cannot  think  it  was  any  joy  unto  her.  For  that  soul 
that  hath  set  her  whole  love  and  desire  on  thee  can  never  find 
any  true  satisfaction  but  only  in  thee."  3 

What  is  the  nature  of  this  mysterious  mystic  illumination  ? 
Apart  from  the  message  it  transmits,  what  is  the  form  which 
it  most  usually  assumes  in  the  consciousness  of  the  self?  The 
illuminatives,  one  and  all,  seem  to  assure  us  that  its  apparently 
symbolic  name  is  a  realistic  one  ;  that  it  appears  to  them  as  a 
kind  of  radiance,  a  flooding  of  the  personality  with  new  light. 
A  new  sun  rises  above  the  horizon  and  transfigures  their  twilit 
world.  Over  and  over  again  they  return  to  light-imagery  in 
this  connection.  Frequently,  as  in  the  case  of  their  first  con- 
version, they  report  an  actual  and  overpowering  consciousness 

1  "  I  desire  not  that  which  comes  forth  from  Thee ;  but  only  I  desire  Thee,  O 
sweetest  Love  ! "  (Vita  e  Dottrina,  cap.  vi.). 

3  Aug.  Conf.,  bk.  vii.  cap.  xx.  Compare  St.  Teresa  :  "  Rapture  is  a  great  help  to 
recognize  our  true  home  and  to  see  that  we  are  pilgrims  here ;  it  is  a  great  thing  to 
see  what  is  going  on  there,  and  to  know  where  we  have  to  live ;  for  if  a  person  has 
to  go  and  settle  in  another  country,  it  is  a  great  help  to  him  in  undergoing  the  fatigues 
of  his  journey  that  he  has  discovered  it  to  be  a  country  where  he  may  live  in  the  most 
perfect  peace"  (Vida,  cap.  xxxviii.,  §  8). 

3  "Spiritual  Exercises,"  pp.  26  and  174. 


THE  ILLUMINATION  OF  THE  SELF  299 

of  radiant  light,  ineffable  in  its  splendour,  as  an  accompani- 
ment of  their  inward  adjustment. 

M  Sopr'  ogne  lengua  amore 
bonta  senza  figura 
lume  fuor  di  mesura 
resplende  nel  mio  core,"  x 

sang  Jacopone  da  Todi.  "  Light  rare,  untellable ! "  said 
Whitman.  "  The  flowing  light  of  the  Godhead,"  said  Mech- 
thild  of  Magdeburg,  trying  to  describe  what  it  was  that  made 
the  difference  between  her  universe  and  that  of  normal  men. 
"  Lux  vivens  dicit"  said  St.  Hildegarde  of  her  revelations,  which 
she  described  as  appearing  in  a  special  light,  more  brilliant  than 
the  brightness  round  the  sun.2  It  is  an  "infused  brightness," 
says  St.  Teresa,  "  a  light  which  knows  no  night ;  but  rather, 
as  it  is  always  light,  nothing  ever  disturbs  it."  3 

"  De  subito  parve  giorno  a  giorno 
essere  aggiunto  ! " 

exclaims  Dante,  initiated  into  the  atmosphere  of  heaven ; 
"  Lume  e  lassu  "  is  his  constant  declaration  : 

"  Cio  ch'  io  dico  e  un  semplice  lume," 

his  last  word,  in  the  effort  to  describe  the  soul's  apprehension  of 
the  Being  of  God.4 

It  really  seems  as  though  the  mystics'  attainment  of  new 
levels  of  consciousness  did  bring  with  it  the  power  of  perceiving 
a  splendour  always  there,  but  beyond  the  narrow  range  of  our 
poor  sight ;  to  which  it  is  only  a  "  luminous  darkness  "  at  the 
best.  *  In  Eternal  Nature,  or  the  kingdom  of  Heaven,"  said 
Law,  "  materiality  stands  in  life  and  light."  5  The  cumulative 
testimony  on  this  point  is  such  as  would  be  held  to  prove,  in 
any  other  department  of  knowledge,  that  there  is  indeed  an 

1  "Love   above    all    language,    goodness   unimagined,    light   without   measure 
shines  in  my  heart "  (Jacopone  da  Todi.     Lauda  xci.). 

2  Pitra,  "  Analecta  S.  Hildegardis  opera,"  p.  332. 

3  St.  Teresa,  Vida,  cap.  xxviii.  §§  7,  8. 

4  Par.  i.  61,  xxx.  100,  xxxiii.  90. 

5  "An  Appeal  to  All  who  Doubt."     I  give  the  whole  passage  below,  p.  316. 


300  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

actual  light,  rare,  untellable,  "  lighting  the  very  light "  and 
awaiting  the  recognition  of  men.1 

Consider  the  accent  of  realism  with  which  St.  Augustine 
speaks  in  the  most  celebrated  passage  of  the  "  Confessions " : 
where  we  seem  to  see  a  born  psychologist  desperately  struggling 
by  means  of  negations  to  describe  an  intensely  positive  state.  "  I 
entered  into  the  secret  closet  of  my  soul,  led  by  Thee ;  and 
this  I  could  do  because  Thou  wast  my  helper.  I  entered,  and 
beheld  with  the  mysterious  eye  of  my  soul  the  Light  that  never 
changes,  above  the  eye  of  my  soul,  above  my  intelligence.  It 
was  not  the  common  light  which  all  flesh  can  see,  nor  was  it 
greater  yet  of  the  same  kind,  as  if  the  light  of  day  were  to 
grow  brighter  and  brighter  and  flood  all  space.  It  was  not  like 
this,  but  different :  altogether  different  from  all  such  things. 
Nor  was  it  above  my  intelligence  in  the  same  way  as  oil  is 
above  water,  or  heaven  above  earth,  but  it  was  higher  because 
it  made  me,  and  I  was  lower  because  made  by  it.  He  who 
knoweth  the  truth  knoweth  that  Light :  and  who  knoweth  it, 
knoweth  eternity.     Love  knoweth  it."  2 

Here,  as  in  the  case  of  St.  Teresa,  St.  Catherine  of  Genoa, 
and  Jacopone  da  Todi,  we  have  a  characteristically  *  imma- 
nental "  description  of  the  illuminated  state.  The  self,  by  the 
process  which  mystics  call  "  introversion,"  the  deliberate  turn- 
ing inwards  of  its  attention,  its  conative  powers,  discerns  Reality 
within  the  heart :  "  the  rippling  tide  of  love  which  flows  secretly 
from  God  into  the  soul  and  draws  it  mightily  back  into  its 
source."  3  But  the  opposite  or  transcendental  tendency — the 
splendid  Cosmic  vision  of  Infinity  exterior  to  the  subject — 
the  expansive,   outgoing  movement  towards  a    Divine   Light, 

"  Che  visible  face 
lo  Creatore  a  quella  creatura 
che  solo  in  lui  vedere  ha  la  sua  pace,"4 


1  It  is,  of  course,  arguable  that  the  whole  of  this  light-imagery  is  ultimately 
derived  from  the  Prologue  of  the  Fourth  Gospel :  as  the  imagery  of  the  Spiritual 
Marriage  is  supposed  to  be  derived  from  the  Song  of  Solomon.  But  it  must  ibe 
remembered  that  mystics  are  essentially  realists,  always  seeking  for  language 
adequate  to  their  vision  of  truth  :  hence  the  fact  that  they  have  adopted  Ithis  imagery 
is  a  guarantee  that  it  represents  something  which  they  know  and  are  struggling  to 
describe. 

2  Aug.  Conf.,  bk.  vii.  cap.  x.      3  Mechthild  of  Magdeburg,  op.  cit.y  pt.  vii.  45. 

4  Par.  xxx.  100,  "  Which  makes  visible  the  Creator  to  that  creature  who 
only  in  beholding  Him  finds  its  peace." 


THE   ILLUMINATION  OF  THE  SELF  301 

the  strange,  formless  absorption  in  the  Divine  Dark  to  which 
the  soul  is  destined  to  ascend — these  modes  of  perception  are 
equally  characteristic  of  the  Illuminative  Way.  As  in  conver- 
sion, so  here,  Reality  may  be  apprehended  in  either  transcen- 
dent or  immanent,  positive  or  negative  terms.  It  is  both  near  and 
far ;  and  for  some  selves  that  which  is  far  is  easiest  to  find.  To 
a  certain  type  of  mind,  the  veritable  practice  of  the  Presence  of 
God  is  not  the  intimate  and  adorable  companionship  of  the 
Inward  Light,  but  the  awestruck  contemplation  of  the  Absolute, 
the  "  naked  Godhead,"  source  and  origin  of  all  that  Is.  It  is  an 
ascent  to  the  supernal  plane  of  perception  where,  "without 
veils,  in  themselves  and  in  their  changelessness,  the  mysteries 
of  theology  appear  in  the  midst  of  the  luminous  darkness  of  a 
silence  which  is  full  of  profound  teaching :  a  marvellous  dark- 
ness which  shines  with  rays  of  splendour,  and  which,  invisible 
and  intangible,  inundates  with  its  fires  the  dazzled  and  sancti- 
fied soul." x 

With  such  an  experience  of  eternity,  such  a  vision  of  the 
Triune  all-including  Absolute  which  "binds  the  Universe 
with  love,"  Dante  ends  his  "  Divine  Comedy " :  and  the 
mystic  joy  with  which  its  memory  fills  him  is  his  guarantee 
that  he  has  really  seen  the  Inviolate  Rose,  the  Flaming 
Heart  of  things. 

"  O  abbondante  grazia,  ond'  io  presunsi 

ficcar  lo  viso  per  la  luce  eterna, 

tanto  die  la  veduta  vi  consunsi  ! 
Nel  suo  profondo  vidi  che  s'  interna, 

legato  con  amore  in  un  volume, 

cio  che  per  l'universo  si  squaderna ; 
Sustanzia  ed  accidenti,  e  lor  costume, 

quasi  conflati  insieme  per  tal  modo, 

che  cio  ch'  io  dico  e  un  semplice  lume. 
La  forma  universal  di  questo  nodo 

credo  ch'  io  vidi,  perche  piu  di  largo, 

dicendo  questo,  mi  sento  ch'  io  godo. 


O,  quanto  e  corto  il  dire,  e  come  fioco 

al  mio  concetto  !     e  questo,  a  quel  ch'  io  vidi, 
e  tanto,  che  non  basta  a  dicer  poco. 

1  Dionysius  the  Areopagite,  "  De  Mystica  Theologia,"  i.  I. 


302  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

O  luce  eterna,  che  sola  in  te  sidi, 
sola  t*  intendi,  e,  da  te  intelletta 
ed  intendente  te,  ami  ed  arridi;! "  * 

In  Dante,  the  transcendent  and  impersonal  aspect  of  illumi- 
nation is  seen  in  its  most  exalted  form.  It  seems  at  first  sight 
almost  impossible  to  find  room  within  the  same  system  for  this 
expansive  vision  of  the  Undifferentiated  Light  and  such  inti- 
mate and  personal  apprehensions  of  Deity  as  Lady  Julian's 
conversations  with  her  "courteous  and  dearworthy  Lord," 
St.  Catherine's  companionship  with  Love  Divine.  Yet  all  these 
are  really  reports  of  the  same  psychological  state :  describe  the 
attainment  of  the  same  grade  of  reality. 

In  a  wonderful  passage,  unique  in  the  literature  of  mys- 
ticism, Angela  of  Foligno  has  reported  the  lucid  vision  in  which 
she  perceived  this  truth  :  the  twofold  apprehension  of  an 
Absolute  at  once  humble  and  omnipotent,  personal  and  tran- 
scendent— the  unimaginable  synthesis  of  "  unspeakable  power  " 
and  "  deep  humility." 

"  The  eyes  of  my  soul  were  opened,  and  I  beheld  the 
plenitude  of  God,  whereby  I  did  comprehend  the  whole  world, 
both  here  and  beyond  the  sea,  and  the  Abyss  and  all  things 
else ;  and  therein  did  I  behold  naught  save  the  divine  power  in 
a  manner  assuredly  indescribable,  so  that  through  excess  of 
marvelling  the  soul  cried  with  a  loud  voice,  saying  '  This  whole 
world  is  full  of  God  ! '  Wherefore  did  I  now  comprehend  that 
the  world  is  but  a  small  thing ;  I  saw,  moreover,  that  the 
power  of  God  was  above  all  things,  and  that  the  whole  world 
was  filled  with  it.  Then  He  said  unto  me  :  '  I  have  shown  thee 
something  of  My  Power,'  the  which  I  did  so  well  understand, 

1  Par.  xxxiii.  82,  121  : — 

"  O  grace  abounding  !  wherein  I  presumed  to  fix  my  ga«e  on  the  eternal  light, 
so  long  that  I  consumed  my  sight  thereon  ! 

In  its  depths  I  saw  ingathered  the  scattered  leaves  of  the  universe,  bound  into  one 
book  by  love. 

Substance  and  accidents,  and  their  relations ;  as  if  fused  together  in  such  a 
manner  that  what  I  tell  of  is  a  simple  light. 

And  I  believe  that  I  saw  the  universal  form  of  this  complexity  ;  because,  as  I 
say  this,  I  feel  that  I  rejoice  more  deeply.  .  .  . 

Oh,  but  how  scant  the  speech  and  how  faint  to  my  concept  !  and  that  to  what  I 
saw  is  such,  that  it  suffices  not  to  call  it  '  little.' 

O  Light  Eternal,  Who  only  in  Thyself  abidest,  only  Thyself  dost  comprehend, 
and,  of  Thysel  fcomprehended  and  Thyself  comprehending,  dost  love  and  smile  !  " 


THE   ILLUMINATION   OF  THE   SELF  303 

that  it  enabled  me  better  to  understand  all  other  things.  He 
said  also,  'I  have  made  thee  to  see  something  of  My  Power; 
behold  now,  and  see  My  humility.'  Then  was  I  given  so  deep 
an  insight  into  the  humility  of  God  towards  man  and  all  other 
things,  that  when  my  soul  remembered  His  unspeakable  power 
and  comprehended  His  deep  humility,  it  marvelled  greatly  and 
did  esteem  itself  to  be  nothing  at  all."  l 

It  must  never  be  forgotten  that  all  apparently  one-sided 
descriptions  of  illumination — more,  all  experiences  of  it — are 
governed  by  temperament.  "  That  Light  whose  smile  kindles 
the  Universe  "  is  ever  the  same ;  but  the  self  through  whom 
it  passes,  and  by  whom  we  must  receive  its  report,  has 
already  submitted  to  the  moulding  influences  of  environment 
and  heredity,  Church  and  State.  The  very  language  of  which 
that  self  avails  itself  in  its  struggle  for  expression,  links 
it  with  half  a  hundred  philosophies  and  creeds.  The  response 
which  it  makes  to  Divine  Love  will  be  the  same  in  type  as  the 
response  which  its  nature  would  make  to  earthly  love:  but 
raised  to  the  nth  degree.  We,  receiving  the  revelation, 
receive  with  it  all  those  elements  which  the  subject  has  contri- 
buted in  spite  of  itself.  Hence  the  apprehension  of  Divine 
Reality  may  take  almost  any  form,  from  the  metaphysical 
ecstasies  which  we  find  in  Dionysius,  and  to  a  less  degree  in  St. 
Augustine,  to  the  simple,  almost  "common-sense"  state- 
ments of  Brother  Lawrence,  the  lovely  intimacies  of  Julian 
or  Mechthild. 

Sometimes — so  rich  and  varied  does  the  nature  of  the  great 
mystic  tend  to  be — the  exalted  and  impersonal  language  of  the 
Dionysian  theology  goes,  with  no  sense  of  incongruity,  side  by  side 
with  homely  parallels  drawn  from  the  most  sweet  and  common 
incidents  of  daily  life.  Suso,  in  whom  illumination  and  purga- 
tion existed  side  by  side  for  sixteen  years,  alternately  obtaining 
possession  of  the  mental  field,  and  whose  oscillations  between 
the  harshest  mortification  and  the  most  ecstatic  pleasure-states 
were  exceptionally  violent  and  swift,  is  a  characteristic  instance 
of  such  an  attitude  of  mind.  His  illumination  was  largely  of  the 
intimate  and  immanental  type  ;  but  it  was  not  without  touches  of 
mystical  transcendence,  which  break  out  with  sudden  splendour 

1  B.    Angelae  de   Fulginio,    "Visionum    et    Instructionum    Liber,"    cap.   xxii. 
(English  translation,  p.  172). 


304  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

side  by  side  with  those  tender  and  charming  passages  in  which 
the  Servitor  of  the  Eternal  Wisdom  tries  to  tell  his  love. 

Thus,  he  describes  in  one  of  the  earlier  chapters  of  his 
life  how  "  whilst  he  was  thinking,  according  to  his  custom,  of 
the  most  lovable  Wisdom,  he  questioned  himself,  and  inter- 
rogated his  heart  which  sought  persistently  for  love,  saying, 
4  O  my  heart,  whence  comes  this  love  and  grace,  whence  comes 
this  gentleness  sand  beauty,  this  joy  and  sweetness  of  the 
heart  ?  Does  not  all  this  flow  forth  from  the  Godhead  as  from 
its  origin?  Come!  let  my  heart,  my  senses  and  my  soul 
immerse  themselves  in  the  deep  Abyss  whence  come  these 
adorable  things.  What  shall  keep  me  back?  To-day  I  will 
embrace  you,  even  as  my  burning  heart  desires  to  do.'  And  at 
this  moment  there  was  within  his  heart  as  it  were  an  emanation 
of  all  good  ;  all  that  is  beautiful,  all  that  is  lovable  and  desirable 
was  there  spiritually  present,  and  this  in  a  manner  which 
cannot  be  expressed.  Whence  came  the  habit  that  every  time 
he  heard  God's  praises  sung  or  said,  he  recollected  himself  in  the 
depths  of  his  heart  and  soul,  and  thought  on  that  Beloved 
Object,  whence  comes  all  love.  It  is  impossible  to  tell  how  often, 
with  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  open  heart,  he  has  embraced  his 
sweet  Friend,  and  pressed  Him  to  a  heart  overflowing  with  love. 
He  was  like  a  baby  which  a  mother  holds  upright  on  her  knees, 
supporting  it  with  her  hands  beneath  its  arms.  The  baby,  by 
the  movements  of  its  little  head,  and  all  its  little  body,  tries 
to  get  closer  and  closer  to  its  dear  mother,  and  shows  by  its 
little  laughing  gestures  the  gladness  in  its  heart.  Thus  did  the 
heart  of  the  Servitor  ever  seek  the  sweet  neighbourhood  of  the 
Divine  Wisdom,  and  thus  he  was  as  it  were  altogether  filled  with 
delight."  i 

2.  The  Illuminated  Vision  of  the  World 

Very  clearly  connected  with  the  sense  of  "the  Presence 
of  God,"  or  power  of  perceiving  the  Absolute,  is  the  comple- 
mentary mark  of  the  illuminated  consciousness ;  the  vision  of  "  a 
new  heaven  and  a  new  earth,"  or  an  added  significance  and 
reality  in  the  phenomenal  world.  Such  words  as  those  of  Julian, 
"  God  is  all  thing  that  is  good  as  to  my  sight,  and  the  goodness 

1  Suso,  Leben,cap.iv. 


THE  ILLUMINATION   OF  THE  SELF  305 

that  all  thing  hath,  it  is  He," «  seem  to  provide  the  link 
between  the  two.  Here  again  we  have  to  distinguish  care- 
fully between  vaguely  poetic  language — "  the  light  that  never 
was,"  "  every  common  bush  afire  with  God  " — and  descriptions 
which  relate  to  a  concrete  and  definite  psychological  experience. 
This  experience,  at  its  best,  balances  and  completes  the 
experience  of  the  Presence  of  God  at  its  best.  That  is  to  say, 
its  "note"  is  sacramental,  not  ascetic.  It  entails  the  ex- 
pansion rather  than  the  concentration  of  consciousness,  the 
discovery  of  the  Perfect  One  ablaze  in  the  Many,  not  the  for- 
saking of  the  Many  in  order  to  find  the  One.  Its  characteristic 
expression  is — 

"  The  World  is  charged  with  the  grandeur  of  God  ; 
It  will  flame  out,  like  shining  from  shook  foil," 

i 

not  "  turn  thy  thoughts  into  thy  own  soul,  where  He  is  hid."  It 
takes,  as  a  rule,  the  form  of  an  enormously  enhanced  mental 
lucidity — a  sharpening  of  the  senses,  as  it  were — whereby  an 
ineffable  radiance,  a  beauty  and  a  reality  never  before  suspected, 
are  perceived  by  a  sort  of  clairvoyance  shining  in  the  meanest 
things. 

"  From  the  moment  in  which  the  soul  has  received  the 
impression  of  Deity  in  infused  orison,"  says  Malaval,  "  she  sees 
Him  everywhere,  by  one  of  love's  secrets  which  is  only 
known  of  those  who  have  experienced  it.  The  simple  vision 
of  pure  love,  which  is  marvellously  penetrating,  does  not  stop  at 
the  outer  husk  of  creation :  it  penetrates  to  the  divinity  which 
is  hidden  within."2 

Thus  Browning  makes  David  declare — 

"  I  but  open  my  eyes, — and  perfection,  no  more  and  no  less, 
In  the  kind  I  imagined  full-fronts  me,  and  God  is  seen  God 
In  the  star,  in  the  stone,  in  the  flesh,  in  the  soul  and  the  clod."3 

Blake's  "To  see  a  world  in  a  grain  of  sand,"  Tennyson's 
"  Flower  in  the  crannied  wall,"    Vaughan's    "  Each   bush   and 

1  "  Revelations,"  cap.  viii. 

2  Malaval,  "  De  l'Oraison  Ordinaire  "  ("  La  Pratique  de  la  Vraye  Theologie 
Mystique,"  vol.  i.  p.  342). 

3  "Saul,"  xvii. 


306  AN   INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

oak  doth  know  I  AM,"  and  the  like,  are  exact  though  over- 
quoted  reports  of  "  things  seen  "  in  this  state  of  consciousness, 
this  "  simple  vision  of  pure  love  "  :  the  value  of  which  is  summed 
up  in  Eckhart's  profound  saying,  "  The  meanest  thing  that  one 
knows  in  God, — for  instance,  if  one  could  understand  a  flower 
as  it  has  its  Being  in  God — this  would  be  a  higher  thing 
than  the  whole  world  !  "  *  Many  mystical  poets  of  the  type  of 
Wordsworth  and  Walt  Whitman  possessed  to  a  considerable 
extent  this  form  of  illumination.  It  is  this  which  Bucke,  the 
American  psychologist,  has  analysed  in  great  detail  under  the 
name  of  "  Cosmic  Consciousness." 2  It  is  seen  at  its  fullest 
development  in  such  cases  as  those  of  Fox,  Boehme,  and 
Blake. 

We  will  first  take  the  experience  of  Jacob  Boehme,  both 
because  in  his  case  we  have  a  first-hand  description  which  is 
particularly  detailed  and  complete,  and  because  he  is  one  of 
the  best  recorded  all-round  examples  of  mystical  illumination  ; 
exhibiting,  along  with  an  acute  consciousness  of  divine  com- 
panionship, all  those  phenomena  of  visual  lucidity,  automatism, 
and  enhanced  intellectual  powers  which  properly  belong  to  it, 
but  are  seldom  developed  simultaneously  in  the  same  individual. 

In  Boehme's  life,  as  described  in  the  Introduction  to  the 
English  translation  of  his  Collected  Works,  3  there  were  three 
distinct  onsets  of  illumination ;  all  of  the  pantheistic  and 
external  type.  In  the  first,  which  seems  to  have  happened 
whilst  he  was  very  young,  it  is  said  that  "  he  was  surrounded  by 
a  divine  Light  for  seven  days,  and  stood  in  the  highest  con- 
templation and  Kingdom  of  Joy."  This,  perhaps,  we  may 
reasonably  identify  with  mystical  awakening  of  the  kind 
experienced  by  Suso.  About  the  year  1600  occurred  the 
second  illumination,  initiated  by  a  trance-like  state  of  conscious- 
ness, the  result  of  gazing  at  a  polished  disc.  To  this  I  have 
already  referred  in  an  earlier  chapter.4  This  brought  with  it 
that  peculiar  and  lucid  vision  of  the  inner  reality  of  the 
phenomenal  world  in  which,  as  he  himself  says,  "  he  looked  into 

1  Meister  Eckhart  ("  Mystische  Schriften,"  p.  137). 

2  Vide  supra,  Pt.  II.  Cap.  II.,  the  cases  of  Richard  Jefferies,  Brother  Lawrence, 
and  others. 

3  The  Works  of  Jacob  Boehme,  4  vols.,  1764,  vol.  i.  pp.  xii.,  &c. 

4  Supra,  p.  69. 


THE  ILLUMINATION  OF  THE  SELF  307 

the  deepest  foundations  of  things."  "  He  believed  that  it  was 
only  a  fancy,  and  in  order  to  banish  it  from  his  mind  he 
went  out  upon  the  green.  But  here  he  remarked  that  he 
gazed  into  the  very  heart  of  things,  the  very  herbs  and  grass, 
and  that  actual  Nature  harmonized  with  what  he  had  inwardly 
seen."  »  Of  this  same  experience  and  the  clairvoyance  which 
accompanied  it,  another  biographer  says,  "  Going  abroad  in  the 
fields  to  a  green  before  Neys  Gate,  at  Gorlitz,  he  there  sat  down, 
and,  viewing  the  herbs  and  grass  of  the  field  in  his  inward  light, 
he  saw  into  their  essences,  use  and  properties,  which  were  dis- 
covered to  him  by  their  lineaments,  figures  and  signatures.  .  .  . 
In  the  unfolding  of  these  mysteries  before  his  understanding,  he 
had  a  great  measure  of  joy,  yet  returned  home  and  took  care  of 
his  family  and  lived  in  great  peace  and  silence,  scarce  intimating 
to  any  these  wonderful  things  that  had  befallen  him." 2 

So  far  as  we  can  tell  from  his  own  scattered  statements, 
Boehme  must  have  lived  from  this  time  onwards  in  fairly  con- 
stant and  growing  consciousness  of  the  transcendental  world  : 
though  there  is  evidence  that  he,  like  all  other  mystics,  knew 
seasons  of  darkness,  "  many  a  shrewd  Repulse,"  and  times  of 
struggle  with  that  "  powerful  contrarium  "  the  lower  conscious- 
ness. In  1610 — perhaps  as  the  result  of  such  intermittent 
struggles — the  vivid  illumination  of  ten  years  before  was  repeated 
in  an  enhanced  form :  and  it  was  in  consequence  of  this,  and  in 
order  that  there  might  be  some  record  of  the  mysteries  upon 
which  he  had  gazed,  that  he  wrote  his  first  and  most  difficult 
book,  the  "  Aurora,"  or  "  Morning  Redness."  The  passage  in 
which  the  "  inspired  shoemaker  "  has  tried  hard  to  tell  us  what 
his  vision  of  Reality  was  like,  to  communicate  something  of  the 
grave  and  enthusiastic  travail  of  his  being,  the  indicible  know- 
ledge of  things  to  which  he  attained,  is  one  of  those  which 
arouse  in  all  who  have  even  the  rudiments  of  mystical  percep- 
tion the  sorrow  and  excitement  of  exiles  who  suddenly  hear 
the  accents  of  home.  It  is  a  "  musical "  passage  :  addresses 
itself  to  the  whole  being,  not  merely  to  the  intellect.  In  its 
movement,  and  in  the  quality  of  its  emotion,  it  is  like  some 
romance  by  Brahms.     Those  who  will  listen  and  be  receptive 

1  Martensen,  "Jacob  Boehme,"  p.  7. 

2  "  Life  of  Jacob  Boehme,"  pp.  xiii.  and  xiv.  in  vol.  i.  of  his  Collected  Works, 
English  translation. 


308  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

will  find  themselves  repaid  by  a  strange  sense  of  extended  life, 
an  exhilarating  consciousness  of  truth.  Here,  if  ever,  is  a  man 
who  is  straining  every  nerve  to  "  speak  as  he  saw  "  :  and  it  is 
plain  that  he  saw  much — as  much,  perhaps,  as  Dante,  though  he 
lacked  the  poetic  genius  which  was  needed  to  give  his  vision 
an  intelligible  form.  The  very  strangeness  of  the  phrasing,  the 
unexpected  harmonies  and  dissonances  which  worry  polite  and 
well-regulated  minds,  are  earnests  of  the  Spirit  of  Life  crying 
out  for  expression  from  within.  Boehme,  like  Blake,  seems 
"  drunk  with  intellectual  vision  " — "  a  God-intoxicated  man." 

"  In  this  my  earnest  and  Christian  Seeking  and  Desire,"  he 
says,  "  (wherein  I  suffered  many  a  shrewd  Repulse,  but  at  last 
resolved  rather  to  put  myself  in  Hazard,  than  give  over  and 
leave  off)  the  Gate  was  opened  to  me,  that  in  one  Quarter  of 
an  Hour  I  saw  and  knew  more  than  if  I  had  been  many  years 
together  at  an  University,  at  which  I  exceedingly  admired,  and 
thereupon  turned  my  Praise  to  God  for  it.  For  I  saw  and  knew 
the  Being  of  all  Beings,  the  Byss  and  the  Abyss,  and  the 
Eternal  Generation  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  the  Descent  and  Original 
of  the  World,  and  of  all  creatures  through  the  Divine  Wisdom  : 
knew  and  saw  in  myself  all  the  three  Worlds,  namely,  The 
Divine \  angelical  and  paradisical ;  and  the  dark  World,  the 
Original  of  the  Nature  to  the  Fire  ;  and  then,  thirdly,  the  ex- 
ternal and  visible  World,  being  a  Procreation  or  external  Birth 
from  both  the  internal  and  spiritual  Worlds.  And  I  saw  and 
knew  the  whole  working  Essence  in  the  Evil  and  the  Good, 
and  the  Original  and  Existence  of  each  of  them  ;  and  likewise 
how  the  fruitful  bearing  Womb  of  Eternity  brought  forth.  .  . 
Yet  however  I  must  begin  to  labour  in  these  great  mysteries, 
as  a  Child  that  goes  to  School.  I  saw  it  as  in  a  great  Deep  in 
the  Internal.  For  I  had  a  thorough  view  of  the  Universe, 
as  in  a  Chaos,  wherein  all  things  are  couched  and  wrapped  up, 
but  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  explain  the  same.  Yet  it 
opened  itself  to  me,  from  Time  to  Time,  as  in  a  Young  Plant ; 
though  the  same  was  with  me  for  the  space  of  twelve  years, 
and  as  it  was  as  it  were  breeding  and  I  found  a  powerful 
Instigation  within  me,  before  I  could  bring  it  forth  into 
external  Form  of  Writing :  and  whatever  I  could  apprehend 
with  the  external  Principle  of  my  mind,  that  I  wrote  down." x 

1  Op.  cit.,  p.  xv. 


THE  ILLUMINATION  OF  THE  SELF  309 

Close  to  this  lucid  vision  of  the  reality  of  things — this 
sudden  glimpse  of  the  phenomenal  in  the  light  of  the  intel- 
ligible world — is  George  Fox's  experience  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
four,  as  recorded  in  his  Journal.1  Here,  as  in  Boehme's  case, 
it  is  clear  that  a  previous  and  regrettable  acquaintance  with  the 
"  doctrine  of  signatures  "  has  to  some  extent  determined  the 
language  and  symbols  under  which  he  describes  his  intuitive 
vision  of  actuality  as  it  exists  in  the  Divine  Mind. 

"Now  was  I  come  up  in  spirit  through  the  flaming  sword 
into  the  Paradise  of  God.  All  things  were  new:  and  all  the 
creation  gave  another  smell  unto  me  than  before,  beyond  what 
words  can  utter.  .  .  .  The  creation  was  opened  to  me  ;  and  it 
was  showed  me  how  all  things  had  their  names  given  them, 
according  to  their  nature  and  virtue.  And  I  was  at  a  stand  in 
my  mind  whether  I  should  practise  physic  for  the  good  of 
mankind,  seeing  the  nature  and  virtue  of  the  creatures  were 
so  opened  to  me  by  the  Lord.  .  .  .  Great  things  did  the  Lord 
lead  me  unto,  and  wonderful  depths  were  opened  unto  me, 
beyond  what  can  by  words  be  declared  ;  but  as  people  come 
into  subjection  to  the  Spirit  of  God,  and  grow  up  in  the  image 
and  power  of  the  Almighty,  they  may  receive  the  word  of 
wisdom  that  opens  all  things,  and  come  to  know  the  hidden 
unity  in  the  Eternal  Being." 

"  To  know  the  hidden  unity  in  the  Eternal  Being " — know 
it  with  an  invulnerable  certainty,  in  the  all-embracing  act  of 
consciousness  with  which  we  are  aware  of  the  personality  of 
those  we  truly  love — is  to  live  at  its  fullest  the  Illuminated  Life, 
enjoying  "  all  creatures  in  God  and  God  in  all  creatures." 

Lucidity  of  this  sort  seems  to  be  an  enormously  enhanced 
form  of  the  true  poetic  consciousness  of  "  otherness  "  in  natural 
things — the  sense  of  a  unity  in  separateness,  a  mighty  and  actual 
Life  beyond  that  which  eye  can  see,  a  glorious  reality  shining 
through  the  phenomenal  veil — frequent  in  those  temperaments 
which  are  at  one  with  life  ;  often — as  in  Blake — a  permanent 
accompaniment  of  the  Illuminative  State,  and  a  constant  though 
transitory  feature  in  conversions  of  all  kinds.  The  self  becomes 
conscious,  as  it  were,  of  that  World  of  Becoming,  that  great 
and  many-coloured  river  of  life,  in  which  the  little  individual 
life  is  immersed.     Alike  in  howling  gale  and  singing  cricket  it 

1  Vol.  i.  cap.  ii. 


310  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

hears  the  crying  aloud  of  that  "  Word  which  is  through  all 
things  everlastingly."  It  participates,  actively  and  open-eyed, 
in  the  mighty  journey  of  the  Son  towards  the  Father's  heart : 
and  seeing  with  purged  sight  all  things  and  creatures  as  they 
are  in  that  transcendent  order,  detects  in  them  too  that  striving 
of  Creation  to  return  to  its  centre  which  is  the  secret  of  the 
Universe. 

A  harmony  is  thus  set  up  between  the  mystic  and  Life  in  all 
its  forms.  Undistracted  by  appearance,  he  sees,  feels,  and  knows 
it  in  one  piercing  act  of  loving  comprehension.  "  And  the 
bodily  sight  stinted,"  says  Julian, "  but  the  spiritual  sight  dwelled 
in  mine  understanding,  and  I  abode  with  reverent  dread  joying 
in  that  I  saw."1  The  heart  outstrips  the  clumsy  senses,  and 
sees — perhaps  for  an  instant,  perhaps  for  long  periods  of  bliss 
— an  undistorted  and  more  veritable  world.  All  things  are 
perceived  in  the  light  of  charity,  and  hence  under  the  aspect 
of  beauty  :  for  beauty  is  simply  Reality  seen  with  the  eyes  of 
love.  As  in  the  case  of  another  and  more  beatific  Vision, 
essere  in  carita  e  qui  necesse.2  For  such  a  reverent  and  joyous 
sight  the  meanest  accidents  of  life  are  radiant.  The  London 
streets  are  paths  of  loveliness ;  the  very  omnibuses  look  like 
coloured  archangels,  their  laps  filled  full  of  little  trustful  souls. 

Often  when  we  blame  our  artists  for  painting  ugly  things, 
they  are  but  striving  to  show  us  a  beauty  to  which  we  are 
blind.  They  have  gone  on  ahead  of  us,  and  attained  that  state 
of  "  fourfold  vision  "  to  which  Blake  laid  claim  ;  in  which  the 
visionary  sees  the  whole  visible  universe  transfigured,  because 
he  has  "  put  off  the  rotten  rags  of  sense  and  memory,"  and 
"put  on  Imagination  uncorrupt."3  In  this  state  of  lucidity 
symbol  and  reality,  Nature  and  Imagination,  are  seen  to  be 
One:  and  in  it  are  produced  all  the  more  sublime  works  of 
art,  since  these  owe  their  greatness  to  the  impact  of  Reality 
upon  the  artistic  mind.  "  I  know,"  says  Blake  again,  "  that 
this  world  is  a  world  of  imagination  and  vision.  I  see  every- 
thing I  paint  in  this  world,  but  everybody  does  not  see  alike. 
To  the  eye  of  a  miser  a  guinea  is  far  more  beautiful  than  the 
sun,  and  a  bag  worn  with  the  use  of  money  has  more  beautiful 
proportions   than   a  vine  filled  with  grapes.     The   tree   which 

1  u  Revelations,"  cap.  viii.  '  Par.  iii.  77. 

3  "  Letters  of  William  Blake,"  p.  in. 


THE  ILLUMINATION   OF  THE  SELF  311 

moves  some  to  tears  of  joy  is  in  the  eyes  of  others  only  a 
green  thing  which  stands  in  the  way.  Some  see  Nature  all 
ridicule  and  deformity,  and  by  these  I  shall  not  regulate  my 
proportions ;  and  some  scarce  see  Nature  at  all.  But  to  the 
eyes  of  the  man  of  imagination,  Nature  is  Imagination  itself. 
As  a  man  is,  so  he  sees.  As  the  eye  is  formed,  such  are  its 
powers.  You  certainly  mistake,  when  you  say  that  the  visions 
of  fancy  are  not  to  be  found  in  this  world.  To  me  this  world 
is  all  one  continued  vision  of  fancy  or  imagination,  and  I  feel 
flattered  when  I  am  told  so."1 

If  the  Mystic  Way  be  considered  as  a  process  of  tran- 
scendence :  a  movement  of  the  self  towards  free  and  conscious 
participation  in  the  Absolute  Life,  and  a  progressive  appro- 
priation of  that  life  by  means  of  the  contact  which  exists  in 
the  deeps  of  man's  being — the  ground  or  spark  of  the  soul — 
between  the  subject  and  the  transcendental  world  :  then  this 
illuminated  apprehension  of  things,  this  cleansing  of  the  doors 
of  perception,  is  surely  what  we  might  expect  to  occur  as  man 
moves  towards  higher  centres  of  consciousness.  His  surface 
intelligence,  purified  from  the  domination  of  the  senses,  is 
invaded  more  and  more  by  the  transcendent  personality,  the 
"  New  Man "  who  is  by  nature  a  denizen  of  the  independent 
spiritual  world,  and  whose  destiny,  in  mystical  language,  is  a 
"  return  to  his  Origin."  Hence  an  inflow  of  new  vitality,  extended 
powers  of  vision,  an  enormous  exaltation  of  his  intuitive  powers. 

In  such  moments  of  clear  sight  and  enhanced  perception  as 
that  which  Blake  and  Boehme  describe,  the  mystic  and  the 
artist  do  really  see  sub  specie  aeternitatis  the  Four-fold  River 
of  Life — that  World  of  Becoming  in  which,  as  Erigena  says, 
"  Every  visible  and  invisible  creature  is  a  theophany  or 
appearance  of  God  " — as  all  might  see  it,  if  prejudice,  selfhood, 
or  other  illusion  did  not  distort  their  sight.  From  this  loving 
vision  there  comes  very  often  that  beautiful  sympathy  with, 
that  abnormal  power  over,  all  living  natural  things,  which  crops 
up  over  and  over  again  in  the  lives  of  the  mystical  saints ;  to 
amaze  the  sluggish  minds  of  common  men,  barred  by  "the 
torrent  of  Use  and  Wont"2  from  all  communion  alike  with 
their  natural  and  supernatural  origin. 

Yet  is  not  so  very  amazing  that  St.  Francis  of  Assisi,  feeling 

1  Op.  cit.y  p.  62.  2  Aug.  Conf.,  bk.  i.  cap.  xvi. 


312  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

and  knowing  —  not  merely  "  believing  "  —  that  every  living 
creature  was  veritably  and  actually  a  "  theophany  or  appearance 
of  God,"  should  have  been  acutely  conscious  that  he  shared  with 
these  brothers  and  sisters  of  his  the  great  and  lovely  life  of  the 
All.  Nor,  this  being  so,  can  we  justly  regard  him  as  eccentric 
because  he  acted  in  accordance  with  his  convictions,  preached  to 
his  little  sisters  the  birds,1  availed  himself  of  the  kindly  offices 
of  the  falcon,2  enjoyed  the  friendship  of  the  pheasant,3  soothed 
the  captured  turtledoves,  his  "simple-minded  sisters,  innocent 
and  chaste,"  4  or  persuaded  his  Brother  Wolf  to  a  better  life.s 

The  true  mystic,  so  often  taunted  with  "a  denial  of  the 
world,"  does  but  deny  the  narrow  and  artificial  world  of  self: 
and  finds  in  exchange  the  secrets  of  that  mighty  universe  which 
he  shares  with  Nature  and  with  God.  Strange  contacts,  un- 
known to  those  who  only  lead  the  life  of  sense,  are  set  up 
between  his  being  and  the  being  of  all  other  things.  In  that 
remaking  of  his  consciousness  which  follows  upon  the  "  mystical 
awakening,"  the  deep  and  primal  life  which  he  shares  with  all 
creation  has  been  roused  from  its  sleep.  Hence  the  barrier 
between  human  and  non-human  life,  which  makes  man  a 
stranger  on  earth  as  well  as  in  heaven,  is  done  away.  Life 
now  whispers  to  his  life:  all  things  are  his  intimates,  and 
respond  to  his  fraternal  sympathy. 

Thus  it  seems  quite  a  simple  and  natural  thing  to  the  Little 
Poor  Man  of  Assisi,  whose  friend  the  pheasant  preferred  his  cell 
to  "  the  haunts  more  natural  to  its  state,"  that  he  should  be 
ambassador  from  the  terrified  folk  of  Gubbio  to  his  formidable 
brother  the  Wolf.  The  result  of  the  interview,  reduced  to 
ordinary  language,  could  be  paralleled  in  the  experience  of 
many  persons  who  have  possessed  this  strange  and  incom- 
municable power  over  animal  life. 

"  O  wondrous  thing !  whenas  St.  Francis  had  made  the  sign 
of  the  Cross,  right  so  the  terrible  wolf  shut  his  jaws  and  stayed 
his  running :  and  when  he  was  bid,  came  gently  as  a  lamb  and 
laid  him  down  at  the  feet  of  St.  Francis.  .  .  .  And  St.  Francis 
stretching  forth  his  hand  to  take  pledge  of  his  troth,  the  wolf 

1  "  Fioretti,"  cap.  xiv. 

2  /did.,  u  Delle  Istimate,"  2,  and  Thomas  of  Celano,  Vita  Secunda,  cap.  cxxvii. 

3  Thomas  of  Celano,  op.  cit.,  cap.  cxxix. 

4  *  Fioretti,"  cap.  xxii.  s  Ibid.,  cap.  xxi. 


THE  ILLUMINATION  OF  THE  SELF  313 

lifted  up  his  right  paw  before  him  and  laid  it  gently  on  the 
hand  of  St.  Francis,  giving  thereby  such  sign  of  good  faith  as  he 
was  able.  Then  quoth  St.  Francis,  '  Brother  Wolf,  I  bid  thee 
in  the  name  of  Jesu  Christ  come  now  with  me,  nothing  doubting, 
and  let  us  go  stablish  this  peace  in  God's  name.'  And  the 
wolf  obedient  set  forth  with  him,  in  fashion  as  a  gentle  lamb ; 
whereat  the  townsfolk  made  mighty  marvel,  beholding.  .  .  . 
And  thereafter  this  same  wolf  lived  two  years  in  Agobio  ;  and 
went  like  a  tame  beast  in  and  out  the  houses  from  door  to  door, 
without  doing  hurt  to  any,  or  any  doing  hurt  to  him,  and  was 
courteously  nourished  by  the  people ;  and  as  he  passed  thus 
wise  through  the  country  and  the  houses,  never  did  any  dog 
bark  behind  him.  At  length  after  a  two  years  space,  brother 
wolf  died  of  old  age  :  whereat  the  townsfolk  sorely  grieved,  sith 
marking  him  pass  so  gently  through  the  city,  they  minded  them 
the  better  of  the  virtue  and  the  sanctity  of  St.  Francis."  z 

In  another  mystic,  less  familiar  than  St.  Francis  to  English 
readers — Rose  of  Lima,  the  Peruvian  saint — this  deep  sympathy 
with  natural  things  assumed  a  particularly  lovely  form.  To 
St.  Rose  the  whole  world  was  a  holy  fairyland,  in  which  it  seemed 
to  her  that  every  living  thing  turned  its  face  towards  Eternity 
and  joined  in  her  adoration  of  God.  It  is  said  in  her  biography 
that  "  when  at  sunrise,  she  passed  through  the  garden  to  go 
to  her  retreat,  she  called  upon  nature  to  praise  with  her  the 
Author  of  all  things.  Then  the  trees  were  seen  to  bow  as  she 
passed  by,  and  clasp  their  leaves  together,  making  a  harmonious 
sound.  The  flowers  swayed  upon  their  stalks,  and  opened  their 
blossoms  that  they  might  scent  the  air ;  thus  according  to  their 
manner  praising  God.  At  the  same  time  the  birds  began  to 
sing,  and  came  and  perched  upon  the  hands  and  shoulders  of 
Rose.  The  insects  greeted  her  with  a  joyous  murmur  and  all 
which  had  life  and  movement  joined  in  the  concert  of  praise  she 
addressed  to  the  Lord."  2 

Again — and  here  we  seem  to  catch  an  echo  of  the  pure 

1  "  Fioretti,"  cap.  xxi.  (Arnold's  translation).  Perhaps  I  may  be  allowed  to 
remind  the  incredulous  reader  that  the  recent  discovery  of  a  large  wolfs  skull  in 
Gubbio,  close  to  the  spot  in  which  Brother  Wolf  is  said  to  have  lived  in  a  cave  for  two 
years  after  his  taming  by  the  Saint,  has  gone  far  to  vindicate  the  truth  of  this  beautiful 
story :  and  disconcerted  those  rationalistic  scholars  who  hold  that  tradition  can  do 
little  else  but  lie. 

2  De  Bussierre,  "  Le  Perou  et  Ste.  Rose  de  Lime,"  p.  256. 


314  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

Franciscan  spirit,  the  gaiety  of  the  Troubadours  of  God — 
during  her  last  Lent,  "  each  evening  at  sunset  a  little  bird  with 
an  enchanting  voice  came  and  perched  upon  a  tree  beside  her 
window,  and  waited  till  she  gave  the  sign  for  him  to  sing. 
Rose,  as  soon  as  she  saw  her  little  feathered  chorister,  made 
herself  ready  to  sing  the  praises  of  God,  and  challenged  the 
bird  to  this  musical  duel  in  a  song  which  she  had  composed  for 
this  purpose.  *  Begin,  dear  little  bird,'  she  said,  '  begin  thy 
lovely  song !  Let  thy  little  throat,  so  full  of  sweet  melodies, 
pour  them  forth  :  that  together  we  may  praise  the  Lord.  Thou 
dost  praise  thy  Creator,  I  my  sweet  Saviour :  thus  we  together 
bless  the  Deity.  Open  thy  little  beak,  begin  and  I  will  follow 
thee  :  and  our  voices  shall  blend  in  a  song  of  holy  joy.' 

"  At  once  the  little  bird  began  to  sing,  running  through  his 
scale  to  the  highest  note.  Then  he  ceased,  that  the  saint  might 
sing  in  her  turn  .  .  .  thus  did  they  celebrate  the  greatness  of 
God,  turn  by  turn,  for  a  whole  hour  :  and  with  such  perfect 
order,  that  when  the  bird  sang  Rose  said  nothing,  and  when  she 
sang  in  her  turn  the  bird  was  silent,  and  listened  to  her  with  a 
marvellous  attention.  At  last,  towards  the  sixth  hour,  the  saint 
dismissed  him,  saying,  '  Go,  my  little  chorister,  go,  fly  far  away. 
But  blessed  be  my  God  who  never  leaves  me  ! ' " x 

The  mystic  whose  illumination  takes  such  forms  as  these,  who 
feels  with  this  intensity  and  closeness  the  bond  of  love  which 
'binds  in  one  book  the  scattered  leaves  of  all  the  universe," 
dwells  in  a  world  for  ever  shut  to  the  desirous  eyes  of  other 
men.  He  pierces  the  veil  of  imperfection,  and  beholds  Creation 
with  the  Creator's  eye.  The  "  Pattern  is  shown  him  in  the 
Mount."  "  The  whole  consciousness,"  says  Recejac,  "  is  flooded 
with  light  to  unknown  depths,  under  the  gaze  of  love,  from 
which  nothing  escapes.  In  this  state,  intensity  of  vision  and 
sureness  of  judgment  are  equal  :  and  the  things  which  the  seer 
brings  back  with  him  when  he  returns  to  common  life  are  not 
merely  partial  impressions,  or  the  separate  knowledge  of  *  science' 
or  '  poetry.'  They  are  rather  truths  which  embrace  the  world, 
life  and  conduct :  in  a  word,  the  whole  consciousness?  2 

It  is  curious  to  note  in  the  various  diagrams  of  experience 
which  we   have   inherited   from  the  more  clear-sighted  philo- 

1  De  Bussierre,  "Le  Perou  et  Ste.  Rose  de  Lime,"  p.  415. 
9  "  Fondements  de  la  Connaissance  Mystique,"  p.  113. 

mat 


THE   ILLUMINATION  OF  THE  SELF  315 

sophers  and  seers,  indications  that  they  have  enjoyed  prolonged 
or  transitory  periods  of  this  higher  consciousness ;  described  by 
R^cejac  as  the  marriage  of  imaginative  vision  with  moral  tran- 
scendence. I  think  it  at  least  a  reasonable  supposition  that  Plato's 
theory  of  Ideas  owed  its  inception  to  some  intuition  of  this  kind  ; 
for  philosophy,  though  it  prate  of  pure  reason,  is  more  often 
found  to  be  based  upon  psychological  experience.  The  Platonic 
statements  as  to  the  veritable  existence  of  the  Idea  of  a  house, 
a  table,  or  a  bed,  and  other  such  painfully  concrete  and  practical 
applications  of  the  doctrine  of  the  ideal,  which  have  annoyed 
many  metaphysicians,  become  explicable  on  such  a  psycho- 
logical basis.  That  illuminated  vision  in  which  "all  things  are 
made  new  "  can  afford  to  embrace  the  homeliest  as  well  as  the 
sublimest  things  ;  and,  as  a  matter  of  experience,  it  does  do 
this,  seeing  all  objects,  as  Monet  saw  the  hayrick,  as  "  modes  of 
light."  Blake  said  that  his  cottage  at  Felpham  was  a  shadow 
of  the  angels'  houses,1  and  I  have  already  referred  to  the  case  of 
the  converted  Methodist  who  saw  his  horses  and  hogs  on  the 
ideal  plane.2 

Again,  when  Plotinus,  who  is  known  to  have  experienced 
ecstatic  states,  speaks  with  the  assurance  of  an  explorer  of  an 
"  intelligible  world,"  and  asks  us,  "  What  other  fire  could  be  a 
better  image  of  the  fire  which  is  there,  than  the  fire  which  is 
here?  Or  what  other  earth  than  this,  of  the  earth  which  is 
there  ? "  3  we  seem  to  detect  behind  the  trappings  of  Neo- 
platonic  philosophy  a  hint  of  the  same  type  of  first-hand 
experience.  The  unknown  minds  to  whom  we  owe  the  Hebrew 
Kabalah  found  room  for  it  too  in  their  diagram  of  the  soul's 
ascent  towards  Reality.  The  first  "Sephira"  above  Malkuth, 
the  World  of  Matter,  or  lowest  plane  upon  that  Tree  of  Life 
which  is  formed  by  the  ten  emanations  of  the  Godhead,  is,  they 
say,  "  Yesod,"  the  "  archetypal  universe."  In  this  are  contained 
the  realities,  patterns,  or  Ideas,  whose  shadows  constitute  the 
world  of  appearance  in  which  we  dwell.  The  path  of  the 
ascending  soul  upon  the  Tree  of  Life  leads  him  first  from 
Malkuth  to  Yesod  :  i.e.,  human  consciousness  in  the  course  of 
its  transcendence  passes  from  the  normal  illusions  of  men  to  a 
more  real  perception  of  the  world — a  perception  which  is  sym- 

1  Letters,  p.  75.  2   Vide  supra,  p.  231. 

3  Ennead  ii.  9. 


->A 


316  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

bolized  by  the  "archetypal  plane "  or  world  of  Platonic 
Ideas.  "  Everything  in  temporal  nature,"  says  William  Law, 
"  is  descended  out  of  that  which  is  eternal,  and  stands  as  a 
palpable  visible  outbirth  of  it,  so  when  we  know  how  to  separate 
the  grossness,  death,  and  darkness  of  time  from  it,  we  find  what 
it  is  in  its  eternal  state.  ...  In  Eternal  Nature,  or  the  King- 
dom of  Heaven,  materiality  stands  in  life  and  light ;  it  is  the 
light's  glorious  Body,  or  that  garment  wherewith  light  is  clothed, 
and  therefore  has  all  the  properties  of  light  in  it,  and  only 
differs  from  light  as  it  is  its  brightness  and  beauty,  as  the  holder 
and  displayer  of  all  its  colours,  powers,  and  virtues."  x 

When  Law  wrote  this,  he  may  have  believed  that  he  was 
interpreting  to  English  readers  the  unique  message  of  his 
master,  Jacob  Boehme.  As  a  matter  of  fact  he  was  spreading 
the  news  which  a  long  line  of  practical  mystics  had  been  crying 
for  centuries  into  the  deaf  ears  of  mankind.  He  was  saying  in 
the  eighteenth  century  what  Gregory  of  Nyssa  had  said  in  the 
fourth  and  Erigena  in  the  ninth  ;  telling  the  secret  of  that 
"  Inviolate  Rose  "  which  can  never  be  profaned  because  it  can 
only  be  seen  with  the  eyes  of  love. 

This  same  belief  in  the  perfect  world  of  archetypes  lurking 
behind  the  symbols  of  sense  and  lending  them  a  measure  of  its 
reality,  is  discoverable  in  Hermetic  philosophy,  which  is  of 
course  largely  influenced  by  Kabalism.  It  receives  practical 
application  in  the  course  of  the  "  occult  education "  to  which 
neophytes  are  subjected  :  a  mental  and  moral  training  calcu- 
lated to  induce  lucid  vision  of  this  kind.  Such  vision — a 
by-product  in  true  mysticism,  never  sought  for  though  often 
achieved — is  the  end  at  which  magic  deliberately  aims.2  No 
magician  was  ever  found  capable  of  St.  Catherine's  cry,  Non 
voglio  quello  che  esce  da  te. 

That  serene  and  illuminated  consciousness  of  the  relation  of 
things  inward  and  outward — of  the  Hidden  Treasure  and  its 
Casket,  the  energizing  Absolute  and  its  expression  in  Time  and 
Space — which  we  have  been  studying  in  this  chapter,  is  at  its 
best  a  state  of  fine  equilibrium  ;  a  sane  adjustment  of  the  inner 
and  outer  life.  By  that  synthesis  of  love  and  will  which  is  the 
secret  of  the  heart,  the  whole  world  is  seen  and  known  in  God, 

1  "  An  Appeal  to  All  who  Doubt "  (Liberal  and  Mystical  Writings  of  William 
Iaw,  p.  52).  2  See  Steiner,  "The  Way  of  Initiation,"  cap.  v. 


THE   ILLUMINATION  OF  THE  SELF  317 

and  God  is  seen  and  known  in  the  whole  world.  It  is  a  state  of 
exalted  emotion :  being  produced  by  love,  of  necessity  it  pro- 
duces love  in  its  turn.  The  sharp  division  between  its  inlooking 
and  outlooking  forms  which  I  have  adopted  for  convenience  of 
description,  is  seldom  present  in  the  minds  of  its  adepts.  They, 
"  cleansed,  fed,  and  sanctified,"  are  initiated  into  a  spiritual 
universe  where  such  clumsy  distinctions  have  little  meaning. 
All  is  alike  part  of  the  "  new  life  "  of  peaceful  charity  :  and  that 
progressive  abolition  of  selfhood  which  is  of  the  essence  of 
mystical  development,  is  alone  enough  to  prevent  them  from 
drawing  a  line  between  the  inward  personal  companionship  and 
outward  impersonal  apprehension  of  the  Real.  True  Illumina- 
tion, like  all  real  and  vital  experience,  consists  rather  in  the 
breathing  of  a  certain  atmosphere,  the  living  at  certain  levels  of 
consciousness,  than  in  the  acquirement  of  specific  information. 
It  is,  as  it  were,  a  resting-place  upon  "  the  steep  stairway  of 
love  " ;  where  the  self  turns  and  sees  all  about  it  a  transfigured 
universe,  radiant  with  that  same  Light  Divine  which  nests  in  its 
own  heart  and  leads  it  on. 

"  When  man's  desires  are  fixed  immovably  on  his  Maker 
and  as  for  deadliness  and  corruption  of  the  flesh  he  is  letted," 
says  Rolle  of  the  purified  soul  which  has  attained  the  illuminated 
state,  "  then  it  is  no  marvel  that  his  strength  manly  using,  first 
as  it  were  heaven  being  opened,  with  his  understanding  he 
beholds  high  heavenly  citizens,  and  afterwards  sweetest  heat,  as 
it  were  burning  fire,  he  feels.  Then  with  marvellous  sweetness 
he  is  taught,  and  so  forth  in  songful  noise  he  is  joyed.  This, 
therefore,  is  perfect  charity,  which  no  man  knows  but  he  that 
hath  it  took.  And  he  that  it  has  taken,  it  never  leaves  :  sweetly 
he  lives  and  sickerly  he  shall  die."  * 

Sweetly,  it  is  true,  the  illuminated  mystic  may  live ;  but  not, 
as  some  think,  placidly.  Enlightenment  is  a  symptom  of 
growth  :  and  growth  is  a  living  process,  which  knows  no  rest. 
The  spirit,  indeed,  is  invaded  by  a  heavenly  peace  ;  but  it  is 
the  peace,  not  of  idleness,  but  of  ordered  activity.  "  A  rest 
most  busy,"  in  Hilton's  words :  a  progressive  appropriation  of 
the  Divine.  The  urgent  push  of  an  indwelling  spirit  aspiring 
to  its  home  in  the  heart  of  Reality  is  felt  more  and  more,  as  the 
invasion  of  the  normal  consciousness  by  the  transcendental 
1  Rolle,  "  The  Fire  of  Love,"  bk.  i.  cap.  xx. 


318  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

personality — the  growth  of  the  New    Man — proceeds  toward* 
its  term. 

Therefore  the  great  seekers  for  reality  are  not  as  a  rule  long 
deceived  by  the  exalted  joys  of  Illumination.  Intensely  aware 
now  of  the  Absolute  Whom  they  adore,  they  are  aware  too  that 
though  known  He  is  unachieved.  Even  whilst  they  enjoy  the 
rapture  of  the  Divine  Presence — of  life  in  a  divine,  ideal  world 
— something,  they  feel,  makes  default.  Sol  voglio  Te,  O  dolce 
Amore.  Hence  for  them  that  which  they  now  enjoy,  and  which 
passes  the  understanding  of  other  men,  is  not  a  static  con- 
dition ;  often  it  coexists  with  that  travail  of  the  heart  which 
Tauler  has  called  "  stormy  love."  The  greater  the  mystic,  the 
sooner  he  realizes  that  the  Heavenly  Manna  which  has  been 
administered  to  him  is  not  yet  That  with  which  the  angels  are 
full  fed.  Nothing  less  will  do :  and  for  him  the  progress  of 
illumination  is  a  progressive  consciousness  that  he  is  destined 
not  for  the  sunny  shores  of  the  spiritual  universe,  but  for  "  the 
vast  and  stormy  sea  of  the  divine." 

"  Here,"  says  Ruysbroeck  of  the  soul  which  has  been  lit  by 
the  Uncreated  Light,  "  there  begins  an  eternal  hunger,  which 
shall  never  more  be  satisfied.  It  is  the  inward  eagerness  and 
aspiration  of  the  affective  powers  and  created  spirit  towards  an 
Uncreated  Good.  And  as  the  spirit  desires  fruition,  and  is 
indeed  invited  and  urged  thereto  by  God,  she  continually  wishes 
to  attain  it.  Behold !  here  begin  the  eternal  aspiration  and 
eternal  effort,  of  an  eternal  helplessness  !  These  men  are  poor 
indeed  :  for  they  are  hungry,  greedy,  insatiable  !  Whatsoever 
they  eat  and  drink  they  cannot  be  satisfied,  since  theirs  is  the 
hunger  of  eternity.  .  .  .  Here  there  are  great  feasts  of  food  and 
drink,  of  which  none  know  but  those  who  are  bidden ;  but  the 
full  satisfaction  of  fruition  is  the  one  dish  that  lacks  them,  and 
this  is  why  their  hunger  is  ever  renewed.  Nevertheless  there 
flow  in  this  communion  rivers  of  honey  full  of  all  delight ;  for 
the  spirit  tastes  of  these  delights  under  every  mode  that  can  be 
conceived.  But  all  this  is  according  to  the  manner  of  the 
creatures,  and  is  below  God :  and  this  is  why  there  is  here  an 
eternal  hunger  and  impatience.  If  God  gave  to  man  all  the 
gifts  which  all  the  saints  possess,  and  all  that  He  has  to  offer, 
but  without  giving  Himself,  the  craving  spirit  would  remain 
hungry  and  unfulfilled."  z 

1  "  L'Ornement  des  Noces  Spirituelles,"  1.  ii.  cap.  liii. 


CHAPTER  V 


VOICES   AND  VISIONS 

This  is  a  controversial  subject — Rationalism  and  Orthodoxy — Both  extreme  in 
their  conclusions — Literal  interpretation  fatal  to  vision — Every  kind  of  automatism  is 
found  in  the  mystic  life— Cannot  be  neglected  by  its  investigators — Visions  may  often 
be  merely  subjective — but  sometimes  embody  transcendental  perceptions — Some  test 
necessary — Real  mystic  vision  enhances  life — Most  visionary  activity  mixed  in  type — 
Is  always  symbolic  in  character — A  form  of  artistic  expression — Automatisms  char- 
acteristic of  all  creative  genius — Mystic  visions  and  voices  are  helps  to  transcendence 
— related  to  life — Delacroix — Audition — the  simplest  form  of  automatism— Three 
kinds  of  auditions — the  Intellectual  Word — Madame  Guyon — Distinct  interior 
words — St.  Teresa — False  auditions — St.  John  of  the  Cross — Character  of  the  true 
audition — St.  Teresa — Exterior  words — Musical  audition— Suso — Divine  dialogues — 
Vision — its  general  character — Most  mystics  distrust  it — Hilton — St.  John  of  the 
Cross — Madame  Guyon — Three  classes  of  vision  :  intellectual,  imaginary,  and  cor- 
poreal— Intellectual  vision — its  character — St.  Teresa — Imaginary  vision — it  exists 
in  all  poets — Its  two  forms — Symbolic  visions — Suso — Dante — St.  Mechthild  of 
Hackborn — Visions  of  Divine  Personality — St.  Teresa's  vision  of  Christ — its  tran- 
scendental nature — Active  imaginary  visions— their  character — The  mystic  marriage 
of  St.  Catherine — Transverberation  of  St.  Teresa — Automatic  writing  in  the  mystics 
— St.  Catherine  of  Siena — Blake — St.  Teresa — Madame  Guyon — Tacob  Boehme — 
Conclusion 

WE  now  come  to  that  eternal  battle-ground,  the  detailed 
discussion  of  those  abnormal  psychic  phenomena 
which  appear  so  persistently  in  the  history  of  the 
mystics.  That  is  to  say,  visions,  auditions,  automatic  script, 
and  those  dramatic  dialogues  between  the  Self  and  some  other 
factor — the  Soul,  Love,  Reason,  or  the  Voice  of  God — which 
seem  sometimes  to  arise  from  an  exalted  and  uncontrolled 
imaginative  power,  sometimes  to  attain  the  proportions  of 
auditory  hallucination. 

Here,  moderate  persons  are  like  to  be  hewn  in  pieces 
between  the  two  "great  powers"  who  have  long  disputed  this 
territory  and  agreeably  occupied  their  leisure  by  tearing  out 
each   other's   hair.     On    the   one  hand   we  have  the  strangely 

319 


320  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 


:ter 


named  rationalists,  who  feel  that  they  have  settled  the  mat 
once  for  all  by  calling  attention  to  the  undoubted  parallels 
which  exist  between  the  bodily  symptoms  of  acute  spiritual 
stress  and  the  bodily  symptoms  of  certain  forms  of  disease. 
These  considerations,  reinforced  by  those  comfortable  words 
"auto-suggestion"  and  "  psychosensorial  hallucination  " — which 
do  but  reintroduce  mystery  in  another  and  less  attractive  form 
— enable  them  to  pity  rather  than  blame  the  peculiarities  of  the 
great  contemplatives.  Modern  French  psychology,  in  particu- 
lar, revels  in  this  sort  of  thing  :  and  would,  if  it  had  its  way, 
fill  the  wards  of  the  Salpetriere  with  patients  from  the  Roman 
Calendar.  The  modern  interpreter,  says  Rufus  Jones,  finds  in 
the  stigmata  of  St.  Francis  of  Assisi  a  point  of  weakness  rather 
than  a  point  of  strength  :  not  "  the  marks  of  a  saint,"  but  "  the 
marks  of  emotional  and  physical  abnormality."  x  This  is  a  very 
moderate  statement  of  the  "  rational  "  position,  by  a  writer  who 
is  in  actual  sympathy  with  certain  aspects  of  mysticism.  Yet 
it  may  well  be  doubted  whether  that  flame  of  living  love  which 
could,  for  one  dazzling  instant,  weld  body  and  soul  in  one,  was 
really  a  point  of  weakness  in  a  saint :  whether  Blake  was  quite 
as  mad  as  some  of  his  interpreters,  or  the  powers  of  St.  Paul 
and  St.  Teresa  are  fully  explained  on  a  basis  of  epilepsy  or 
hysteria :  whether,  finally,  it  is  as  scientific  as  it  looks,  to  lump 
together  all  visions  and  voices — from  Wandering  Willy  to  the 
Apocalypse  of  St.  John — as  examples  of  unhealthy  cerebral 
activity. 

As  against  all  this,  the  intransigeant  votaries  of  the  super- 
natural seem  determined  to  play  into  the  hands  of  their  foes. 
They  pin  themselves,  for  no  apparent  reason,  to  the  objective 
reality  and  absolute  value  of  visions,  voices,  and  other  experi- 
ences which  would  be  classed,  in  any  other  department  of  life, 
as  the  harmless  results  of  a  vivid  imagination :  and  claim  as 
examples  of  miraculous  interference  with  "  natural  law  "  psychic 
phenomena  which  may  well  be  the  normal  if  rare  methods  by 
which  a  certain  type  of  intuitive  genius  actualizes  its  perceptions 
of  the  spiritual  world.2 

1  "Studies  in  Mystical  Religion,"  p.  165.  Those  who  wish  to  study  the 
"rationalist  "  argument  in  an  extreme  form  are  directed  to  the  works  of  Prof.  Janet, 
particularly  "  L'Automatisme  psychologique  "  and  "  L'Etat  mentale  des  hysteriques." 

2  On  the  difference  in  this  respect  between  the  "normal"  and  the  "average,"  see 
Granger,  "The  Soul  of  a  Christian,"  p.  12. 


VOICES  AND  VISIONS  321 

Materialistic  piety  of  this  kind,  which  would  have  us  believe 
that  St.  Anthony  of  Padua  really  held  the  Infant  Christ  in  his 
arms,  and  that  the  Holy  Ghost  truly  told  the  Blessed  Angela  of 
Foligno  that  He  loved  her  better  than  any  other  woman  in  the 
Vale  of  Spoleto,  and  she  knew  Him  more  intimately  than 
the  Apostles  themselves,1  is  the  best  friend  the  "rationalists" 
possess.  It  turns  dreams  into  miracles  and  miracles  into 
dreams ;  and  drags  down  the  symbolic  visions  of  genius  to  the 
level  of  pious  hallucination.  Even  the  profound  and  beautiful 
significance  of  St.  Margaret  Mary  Alacoque's  vision  of  the 
Sacred  Heart — a  pictured  expression  of  one  of  the  deepest 
intuitions  of  the  human  soul  caught  up  to  the  contemplation  of 
God's  love — has  been  impaired  by  the  grossly  material  inter- 
pretation which  it  has  been  forced  to  bear.  So,  too,  the  beautiful 
reveries  of  Suso,  the  divine  visitations  experienced  by  Francis, 
Catherine,  Teresa  and  countless  other  saints,  have  been  degraded 
in  the  course  of  their  supposed  elevation  to  the  sphere  called 
"  supernatural  " — a  process  as  fatal  to  their  truth  and  beauty  as 
the  stuffing  of  birds.2 

All  this,  too,  is  done  in  defiance  of  the  great  mystics  them- 
selves, who  are  unanimous  in  warning  their  disciples  against  the 
danger  of  attributing  too  much  importance  to  "visions"  and 
"  voices,"  or  accepting  them  at  their  face  value  as  messages  from 
God.  Nevertheless,  these  visions  and  voices  are  such  frequent 
accompaniments  of  the  mystic  life,  that  they  cannot  be  left  on 
one  side.  The  messengers  of  the  invisible  world  knock  per- 
sistently at  the  doors  of  the  senses  :  and  not  only  at  those  which 
we  refer  to  hearing  and  to  sight.  In  other  words,  supersensual 
intuitions — the  contact  between  man's  finite  being  and  the 
Infinite  Being  in  which  it  is  immersed — can  express  themselves 
by  means  of  almost  any  kind  of  sensory  automatism.  Strange 
sweet  perfumes  and  tastes,  physical  sensations  of  touch,  inward 

1  See  B.  Angelae  de  Fulginio,  "Visionum  et  Instructionum   Liber,"  cap.    1. 
(English  translation,  p.  245). 

9  Poulain,  "  Les  Graces  d'Oraison,"  cap.  xx.,  and  Ribet's  elaborate  work,  "  La 
Mystique  Divine,"  well  represent  the  "  supernaturalist "  position.  As  against  the 
"rationalistic"  theory  of  stigmatization  already  described,  one  feels  that  this  last- 
named  writer  hardly  advances  his  own  cause  when  he  insists  on  attributing  equal 
validity  (a)  to  the  Stigmata  as  marks  of  the  Divine,  (6)  to  the  imprint  of  a  toad,  bat, 
spider  "ou  de  tout  autre  objet  exprimant  l'abjection"  on  the  bodies  of  those  who 
have  had  commerce  with  the  devil  (tome  iii,  p.  482). 
y 


322  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

fires,  are  reported  over  and  over  again  in  connection  with  such 
spiritual  adventures.1  Those  symbols  under  which  the  mystic 
tends  to  approach  the  Absolute  easily  become  objectivized,  and 
present  themselves  to  the  consciousness  as  parts  of  experience, 
rather  than  as  modes  of  interpretation.  The  knowledge  which 
is  obtained  in  such  an  approach  is  wholly  transcendental.  It 
consists  in  an  undifferentiated  act  of  the  whole  consciousness,  in 
which  under  the  spur  of  love  life  draws  near  to  Life.  Thought, 
feeling,  vision,  touch — all  are  hopelessly  inadequate  to  it:  yet 
all,  perhaps,  may  hint  at  that  intense  perception  of  which  they 
are  the  scattered  parts.  "  And  we  shall  endlessly  be  all  had  in 
God,"  says  Julian  of  this  supreme  experience,  "  Him  verily 
seeing  and  fully  feeling,  Him  spiritually  hearing  and  Him 
delectably  smelling  and  sweetly  swallowing."2 

All  those  so-called  "hallucinations  of  the  senses"  which 
appear  in  the  history  of  mysticism  must,  then,  be  considered 
soberly,  frankly,  and  without  prejudice  in  the  course  of  our 
inquiry  into  the  psychology  of  man's  quest  of  the  Real.  The 
question  for  their  critics  must  really  be  this :  do  these  automa- 
tisms, which  appear  so  persistently  as  a  part  of  the  contempla- 
tive life,  represent  merely  the  dreams  and  fancies,  the  old 
digested  percepts  of  the  visionary,  objectivized  and  presented 
to  his  surface-mind  in  a  concrete  form  ;  or,  are  they  ever  repre- 
sentations— symbolic,  if  you  like — of  some  fact,  force,  or  per- 
sonality, some  "  triumphing  spiritual  power,"  external  to  himself? 
Is  the  vision  only  a  pictured  thought :  or,  is  it  the  violent  effort 
of  the  self  to  translate  something  impressed  upon  its  deeper 
being,  some  message  received  from  without,3  which  projects  this 
sharp  image  and  places  it  before  the  consciousness  ? 

The  answer  seems  to  be  that  the  voice  or  vision  may  be 
either  of  these  two  things :  and  that  pathology  and  religion 
have  both  been  over-hasty  in  their  eagerness  to  snatch  at  these 
phenomena  for  their  own  purposes.  Many — perhaps  most — 
voices  do  but  give  the  answer  which  the  subject  has  already 

1  Vide  infra,  quotations  from  Hilton  and  St.  John  of  the  Cross.  Also  Rolle, 
"  The  Fire  of  Love,"  Prologue.  E.  Gardner,  "  St.  Catherine  of  Siena,"  p.  15.  Von 
Httgel,  "The  Mystical  Element  in  Religion,"  vol.  i.  pp.  178-181. 

3  "  Revelations  of  Divine  Love,"  cap.  xliii.  I  have  restored  the  bold  language  of 
the  original,  which  is  somewhat  toned  down  in  modern  versions. 

3  Here  as  elsewhere  the  reader  will  kindly  recollect  that  all  spatial  language  is 
merely  symbolic  when  used  in  connection  with  spiritual  states. 


VOICES  AND  VISIONS  323 

suggested  to  itself;1  many — perhaps  most — visions  are  the  pic- 
turings  of  dreams  and  desires.2  Some  are  morbid  hallucina- 
tions: some  even  symptoms  of  insanity.  All,  probably,  borrow 
their  shape,  as  apart  from  their  content,  from  suggestions  already 
present  in  the  mind  of  the  seer. 

But  there  are  some,  experienced  by  minds  of  great  power 
and  richness,  which  are  crucial  for  those  who  have  them.  These 
bring  wisdom  to  the  simple  and  ignorant,  sudden  calm  to  those 
who  were  tormented  by  doubts.  They  flood  the  personality 
with  new  light :  accompany  conversion,  or  the  passage  from  one 
spiritual  state  to  another :  arrive  at  moments  of  indecision, 
bringing  with  them  authoritative  commands  or  counsels  opposed 
to  the  inclination  of  the  self:  confer  a  convinced  knowledge  of 
some  department  of  the  spiritual  life  before  unknown.  Such 
visions,  it  is  clear,  belong  to  another  and  higher  plane  of  expe- 
rience from  the  radiant  appearances  of  our  Lady,  the  piteous 
exhibitions  of  the  sufferings  of  Christ,  which  swarm  in  the  lives 
of  the  saints  and  contain  no  feature  which  is  not  traceable  to 
the  subject's  religious  enthusiasms  or  previous  knowledge.3 
These,  in  the  apt  phrase  of  Godfernaux,  are  but  "  images  float- 
ing on  the  moving  deeps  of  feeling,"  4  not  symbolic  messages  from 
another  plane  of  consciousness.  Some  test,  then,  must  be 
applied,  some  basis  of  classification  discovered,  if  we  are  to 
distinguish  the  visions  and  voices  which  seem  to  be  symptoms 
of  real  transcendental  activity  from  those  which  are  only  due  to 
imagination  raised  to  the  nth  power,  to  intense  reverie,  or  even 
to  psychic  illness.  That  test,  I  think,  must  be  the  same  as 
that  which  we  shall  find  useful  for  ecstatic  states  ;  namely,  their 
life-enhancing  quality. 

Those  visions  and  voices  which  are  the  media  by  which  the 
"seeing  self"  truly  approaches  the  Absolute;   which  are  the 

1  For  instance,  when  Margaret  Ebner,  the  celebrated  "  Friend  of  God,"  heard  a 
voice  telling  her  that  Tauler,  who  was  the  object  of  great  veneration  in  the  circle  to 
which  she  belonged,  was  the  man  whom  God  loved  best,  and  that  He  dwelt  in  him 
like  melodious  music  (see  Rufus  Jones,  op.  cit.,  p.  257). 

3  "  There  are  persons  to  be  met  with,"  says  St.  Teresa,  "  and  I  have  known  them 
myself,  who  have  so  feeble  a  brain  and  imagination  that  they  think  they  see  whatever 
they  are  thinking  about,  and  this  is  a  very  dangerous  condition  "  ("  El  Castillo  Interior," 
Moradas  Cuartas,  cap.  iii.). 

3  The  book  of  Angela  of  Foligno,  already  cited,  contains  a  rich  series  of  examples. 

*  "  Sur  la  psychologic  du  Mysricisme  "  {Revue  Philosophique,  February,  1902). 


324  AN   INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

formulae  under  which  ontological  perceptions  are  expressed  ;  are 
found  by  that  self  to  be  sources  of  helpful  energy,  charity,  and 
courage.  They  infuse  something  new  in  the  way  of  strength, 
knowledge,  direction  ;  and  leave  it — physically,  mentally,  or 
spiritually — better  than  they  found  it.  Those  which  do  not 
owe  their  inception  to  the  contact  of  the  soul  with  external 
reality — in  theological  language  do  not  "  come  from  God  " — do 
not  have  this  effect.  At  best,  they  are  but  the  results  of  the 
self  s  turning  over  of  her  treasures :  at  worst,  they  are  the 
dreams — sometimes  the  diseased  dreams — of  an  active,  rich, 
but  imperfectly  controlled  subliminal  consciousness. 

Since  it  is  implicit  in  the  make-up  of  the  mystical  tempera- 
ment, that  the  subliminal  consciousness  should  be  active  and 
rich — and  since  the  unstable  nervous  organization  which  goes 
with  it  renders  it  liable  to  illness  and  exhaustion — it  is  not 
surprising  to  find  that  the  visionary  experience  even  of  the 
greatest  mystics  is  mixed  in  type.  Once  automatism  has 
established  itself  in  a  person,  it  may  as  easily  become  the 
expression  of  folly  as  of  wisdom.  In  the  moments  when  inspira- 
tion has  ebbed,  old  forgotten  superstitions  may  take  its  place. 
When  Julian  of  Norwich  in  her  illness  saw  the  "  horrible  showing" 
of  the  Fiend,  red  with  black  freckles,  which  clutched  at  her 
throat  with  its  paws : *  when  St  Teresa  was  visited  by  Satan,  who 
left  a  smell  of  brimstone  behind,  or  when  she  saw  him  sitting 
on  the  top  of  her  breviary  and  dislodged  him  by  the  use  of  holy 
water,2  it  is  surely  reasonable  to  allow  that  we  are  in  the 
presence  of  visions  which  tend  towards  the  psychopathic  type : 
and  which  are  expressive  of  little  else  but  an  exhaustion  and 
temporary  loss  of  balance  on  the  subject's  part,  which  allowed 
her  intense  consciousness  of  the  reality  of  evil  to  assume  a 
concrete  form.3 

Because  we  allow  this,  however,  it  does  not  follow  that  all 
the  visionary  experience  of  such  a  subject  is  morbid  :  any  more 
than  "CEdipus  Tyrannus"  invalidates  "  Prometheus  Unbound," 

1  "  Revelations  of  Divine  Love,"  cap.  lxvi.  2  Vida,  cap.  xxxi.  §§  5  and  10. 

3  Thus  too  in  the  case  of  St.  Catherine  of  Siena,  the  intense  spiritual  strain  of  that 
three  years'  retreat  which  I  have  already  described  {supra,  Pt.  II.  Cap.  I.)  showed 
itself  towards  the  end  of  the  period  by  a  change  in  the  character  of  her  visions. 
These,  which  had  previously  been  wholly  concerned  with  intuitions  of  the  good  and 
beautiful,  now  took  on  an  evil  aspect  and  greatly  distressed  her  (Vita  (Acta  SS.), 
i.  xi.  1  j  see  E.  Gardner,  "  St.  Catherine  of  Siena,"  p.  20). 

A  , 


VOICES  AND  VISIONS  325 

or  occasional  attacks  of  dyspepsia  invalidate  the  whole  process 
of  nutrition.  The  perceptive  power  and  creative  genius  of 
mystics,  as  of  other  great  artists,  sometimes  goes  astray.  That 
visions  or  voices  should  sometimes  be  the  means  by  which  the 
soul  consciously  assimilates  the  nourishment  it  needs,  is  con- 
ceivable :  it  is  surely  also  conceivable  that  by  the  same  means 
it  may  present  to  the  surface-intelligence  things  which  are 
productive  of  unhealthy  rather  than  of  healthy  reactions. 

If  we  would  cease,  once  for  all,  to  regard  visions  and  voices 
as  objective,  and  be  content  to  see  in  them  forms  of  symbolic 
expression,  ways  in  which  the  subconscious  activity  of  the 
spiritual  self  reaches  the  surface-mind,  many  of  the  dis- 
harmonies noticeable  in  visionary  experience,  which  have 
teased  the  devout,  and  delighted  the  agnostic,  would  fade 
away.  Visionary  experience  is — or  at  least  may  be — the 
outward  sign  of  a  real  experience.  It  is  a  picture  which 
the  mind  constructs,  it  is  true,  from  raw  materials  already  at 
its  disposal :  as  the  artist  constructs  his  picture  with  canvas 
and  paint.  But,  as  the  artist's  paint  and  canvas  picture  is  the 
fruit,  not  merely  of  contact  between  brush  and  canvas,  but  also 
of  a  more  vital  contact  between  his  creative  genius  and  visible 
beauty  or  truth  ;  so  too  we  may  see  in  vision,  where  the  subject 
is  a  mystic,  the  fruit  of  a  more  mysterious  contact  between  the 
visionary  and  a  transcendental  beauty  or  truth.  Such  a  vision, 
that  is  to  say,  is  the  "  accident "  which  represents  and  enshrines 
a  "  substance "  unseen  :  the  paint  and  canvas  picture  which 
tries  to  show  the  surface  consciousness  that  ineffable  sight, 
that  ecstatic  perception  of  good  or  evil — for  neither  extreme  has 
the  monopoly — to  which  the  deeper,  more  real  soul  has  attained. 
The  transcendental  powers  take  for  this  purpose  such  material 
as  they  can  find  amongst  the  hoarded  beliefs  and  memories  of 
the  self.1     Hence  Plotinus  sees  the  Celestial  Venus,  Suso  the 

1  An  excellent  example  of  such  appropriation  of  material  is  related  with  apparent 
good  faith  by  Huysmans  ("  Sainte  Lydwine  de  Schiedam,"  p.  258):  "Lydwine 
found  again  in  heaven  those  forms  of  adoration,  those  ceremonial  practices  of  the 
divine  office,  which  she  had  known  here  below  during  her  years  of  health.  The 
Church  Militant  had  been,  in  fact,  initiated  by  the  inspiration  of  its  apostles,  its 
popes,  and  its  saints  into  the  liturgic  joys  of  Paradise."  In  this  same  vision,  which 
occurred  on  Christmas  Eve,  when  the  hour  of  the  Nativity  was  rung  from  the  belfries 
of  heaven,  the  Divine  Child  appeared  on  His  Mother's  knee :  just  as  the  creche  is 
exhibited  in  Catholic  churches  the  moment  that  Christmas  has  dawned. 


326  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

Eternal  Wisdom,  St.  Teresa  the  Humanity  of  Christ,  Blake 
the  strange  personages  of  his  prophetic  books :  others  more 
obviously  symbolic  objects.  St.  Ignatius  Loyola,  for  instance, 
in  a  moment  of  lucidity,  "  saw  the  most  Holy  Trinity  as  it  were 
under  the  likeness  of  a  triple  plectrum  or  of  three  spinet  keys  " 
and  on  another  occasion  "  the  Blessed  Virgin  without  distinction 
of  members."  x 

Visions  and  voices,  then,  may  stand  in  the  same  relation  to 
the  mystic  as  pictures,  poems,  and  musical  compositions  stand  to 
the  great  painter,  poet,  musician.  They  are  the  artistic  ex- 
pressions and  creative  results  (a)  of  thought,  (b)  of  intuition, 
(c)  of  direct  perception.  All  would  be  ready  to  acknowledge 
how  conventional  and  imperfect  of  necessity  are  those  tran- 
scripts of  perceived  Goodness,  Truth,  and  Beauty  which  we 
owe  to  artistic  genius  :  how  unequal  is  their  relation  to  reality. 
But  this  is  not  to  say  that  they  are  valueless  or  absurd.  So  too 
with  the  mystic,  whose  proceedings  in  this  respect  are  closer  to 
those  of  the  artist  than  is  generally  acknowledged.  In  both 
types  there  is  a  constant  and  involuntary  work  of  translation 
going  on,  by  which  Reality  is  interpreted  in  the  terms  of 
appearance.  In  both,  a  peculiar  mental  make-up  conduces  to 
this  result. 

In  these  subjects,  the  state  of  reverie  tends  easily  to  a 
visionary  character:  thought  becomes  pictorial,  auditory  or 
rhythmic  as  the  case  may  be.  Concrete  images,  balanced 
harmonies,  elusive  yet  recognizable,  surge  up  mysteriously 
without  the  intervention  of  the  will,  and  place  themselves 
before  the  mind.  Thus  the  painter  really  sees  his  unpainted 
picture,  the  novelist  hears  the  conversation  of  his  characters, 
the  poet  receives  his  cadences  ready-made,  the  musician  listens 
to  a  veritable  music  which  "  pipes  to  the  spirit  ditties  of  no 
tone."  In  the  mystic,  the  same  type  of  activity  constantly 
appears.  Profound  meditation  takes  a  pictorial  form.  Apt 
symbols  which  suggest  themselves  to  his  imagination  become 
objectivized.  The  message  that  he  longs  for  is  heard  within 
his  mind.  Hence,  those  "  interior  voices "  and  "  imaginary 
visions"  which  are  sometimes — as  in  Suso — indistinguishable 
from  the  ordinary  accompaniments  of  intense  artistic  activity. 

Where,  however,  artistic  '  automatisms  "  spend  themselves 
1  Testament,  cap.  iii. 


VOICES  AND  VISIONS  327 

upon  the  artists  work,  mystical  "automatisms  "  in  their  highest 
forms  have  to  do  with  that  transformation  of  personality  which 
is  the  essence  of  the  mystic  life.  They  are  media  by  which  the 
self  measures  its  approximation  to  the  Absolute  and  is  guided 
on  its  upward  way.  Moreover,  they  are  co-ordinated.  The 
voice  and  the  vision  go  together  :  corroborate  one  another, 
and  "  work  out  right "  in  relation  to  the  life  of  the  self.  Thus 
St.  Catherine  of  Siena's  "  mystic  marriage  "  was  prefaced  by  a 
voice,  which  ever  said  in  answer  to  her  prayers,  "  I  will  espouse 
thee  to  Myself  in  faith " ;  and  the  vision  in  which  that  union 
was  consummated  was  again  initiated  by  a  voice  saying,  "  I  will 
this  day  celebrate  solemnly  with  thee  the  feast  of  the  betrothal 
of  thy  soul,  and  even  as  I  promised  I  will  espouse  thee  to 
Myself  in  faith."  *  "  Such  automatisms  as  these,"  says  Dela- 
croix, "  are  by  no  means  scattered  and  incoherent.  They  arc 
systematic  and  progressive :  they  are  governed  by  an  interior 
aim ;  they  have,  above  all,  a  teleological  character.  They 
indicate  the  continuous  intervention  of  a  being  at  once  wiser 
and  more  powerful  than  the  ordinary  character  and  reason  ; 
they  are  the  realization,  in  visual  and  auditory  images,  of  a  secret 
and  permanent  personality  of  a  superior  type  to  the  conscious 
personality.  They  are  its  voice,  the  exterior  projection  of  its 
life.  They  translate  to  the  conscious  personality  the  sug- 
gestions of  the  subconscious :  and  they  permit  the  con- 
tinuous penetration  of  the  conscious  personality  by  these 
deeper  activities.  They  establish  a  communication  between 
these  two  planes  of  existence,  and,  by  their  imperative  nature, 
they  tend  to  make  the  inferior  subordinate  to  the  superior."  2 

Audition 

The  simplest  and  as  a  rule  the  first  way  in  which  auto- 
matism shows  itself,  is  in  "  voices  "  or  auditions.  The  mystic 
becomes  aware  of  Something  which  speaks  to  him  either 
clearly  or  implicitly,  giving  him  abrupt  and  unexpected 
orders  and  encouragements.  The  reality  of  his  contact  with 
the  Divine  Life  is  thus  brought  home  to  him  by  a  device 
with  which  the  accidents  of  human  intercourse  have  made  him 

1  E.  Gardner,  "St.  Catherine  of  Siena,"  p.  25. 
9  Delacroix,  "Etudes  sur  le  Mysticisme,"  p.  114. 


328  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

familiar.  His  subliminal  mind,  soaked  as  it  now  is  in  tran- 
scendental perceptions,  "at  one  with  the  Absolute,"  irradiated 
by  the  Uncreated  Light,  but  still  dissociated  from  the  surface 
intelligence  which  it  is  slowly  educating,  seems  to  that  surface 
self  like  another  being.  Hence  its  messages  are  often  heard, 
literally,  as  Voices:  either  (i)  the  "  immediate  "  or  inarticulate 
voice,  which  the  auditive  mystic  knows  so  well,  but  finds  it  so 
difficult  to  define ;  (2)  the  distinct  interior  voice,  perfectly 
articulate,  but  recognized  as  speaking  only  within  the  mind  ; 
(3)  by  a  hallucination  which  we  have  all  experienced  in  dream 
or  reverie,  the  exterior  voice,  which  appears  to  be  speaking 
externally  to  the  subject  and  to  be  heard  by  the  outward 
ear.  This,  the  traditional  classification  of  auditions,  also 
answers  exactly  to  the  three  main  types  of  vision — (1)  intellec- 
tual, (2)  imaginary,  (3)  corporeal. 

Of  these  three  kinds  of  voices  the  mystics  are  unanimous  in 
their  opinion  that  the  first  and  least  "  marvellous  "  is  by  far  the 
best :  belonging  indeed  to  an  entirely  different  plane  of  con- 
sciousness from  the  uttered  interior  or  exterior  "  word." 
"Distinct  interior  words,"  says  Madame  Guyon,  "are  very 
subject  to  illusion.  The  Devil  is  responsible  for  many  of 
them :  and  when  they  come  from  our  good  angel  (for  God 
Himself  never  speaks  in  this  manner)  they  do  not  always 
mean  that  which  they  say,  and  one  seldom  finds  that  what 
is  thus  predicted  comes  to  pass.  For  when  God  causes  words 
of  this  kind  to  be  brought  to  us  by  His  angels,  He  understands 
them  in  His  way,  and  we  take  them  in  ours,  and  this  it  is  which 
deceives  us.  The  word  which  God  speaks  without  interme- 
diary is  no  other  than  His  WORD  [Logos]  in  the  soul :  a 
substantial  word,  silent  and  inarticulate,  a  vivifying  and 
energizing  word ;  as  has  been  said,  dixit  et  facta  sunt.  This 
word  is  never  for  a  moment  dumb  nor  sterile :  this  word  is 
heard  ceaselessly  in  the  centre  of  the  soul  which  is  disposed 
thereto,  and  returns  to  its  Principle  as  pure  as  when  it  came 
forth  therefrom."  x 

"  Let  Thy  good  Spirit  enter  my  heart  and  there  be  heard 
without  utterance,  and  without  the  sound  of  words  speak  all 
truth,"  says  a  prayer  attributed  to  St.  Ambrose,2  exactly  descri- 

1  Vie,  pt.  i.  cap.  ix. 

2  Missale  Romanum.     Praeparatio  ad  Missam ;  Die  Dominica. 


VOICES  AND  VISIONS  329 

bing  the  function  of  these  unmediated  or  "  intellectual  words." 
Dynamic  messages  of  this  kind,  imperative  intuitions  which 
elude  the  containing  formulae  of  speech,  are  invariably  attributed 
by  the  self  to  the  direct  action  of  the  Divine.  They  bring  with 
them  an  unquestionable  authority,  an  infusion  of  new  knowledge 
or  new  life.  They  are,  in  fact,  not  messages  but  actual  "  inva- 
sions "  from  beyond  the  threshold  :  sudden  emergences  of  that 
hidden  Child  of  the  Absolute  which  mystics  call  the  "spark  of 
the  soul  "  and  of  which  it  has  been  truly  said,  "  Abyssus  abyssum 
invocat" 

"  Distinct  interior  words,"  on  the  other  hand,  are  not  invari- 
ably authoritative  for  those  who  hear  them  :  though  St.  Teresa, 
whose  brilliant  self-criticisms  are  our  best  source  of  information 
on  mystical  auditions,  gives  to  them  a  higher  place  in  spiritual 
experience  than  Madame  Guyon's  devotion  to  "  naked  orison  " 
will  permit  her  to  do.  She,  too,  considers  that,  though  they 
"come  from  God,"  they  are  not  due  to  direct  contact  with  the 
Divine :  but  that  they  may  be  distinguished  from  those 
"  words "  which  result  merely  from  voluntary  activity  of  the 
imagination  as  much  by  the  sense  of  certitude,  peace  and 
interior  joy  which  they  produce,  as  by  the  fact  that  they  force 
themselves  upon  the  attention  in  spite  of  its  resistance,  and 
bring  with  them  knowledge  which  was  not  previously  within 
the  field  of  consciousness.  That  is  to  say,  they  are  really 
automatic  presentations  of  the  result  of  mystic  intuition,  not 
mere  rearrangements  of  the  constituents  of  thought.1  Hence 
they  bring  to  the  surface-self  new  material :  have  an  actual 
value  for  life. 

Those  purely  self-created  locutions,  or  rearrangements  of 
thought  "  which  the  mind  self-recollected  forms  and  fashions 
within  itself" — often  difficult  to  distinguish  from  true  automatic 
audition — are  called  by  Philip  of  the  Trinity,  St.  John  of  the 
Cross  and  other  mystical  theologians  "  successive  words." 
They  feel  it  to  be  of  the  highest  importance  that  the  con- 
templative should  learn  to  distinguish  such  hallucinations 
from  real  transcendental  perceptions  presented  in  auditive 
form. 

"  I  am  terrified,"  says  St.  John  of  the  Cross,  with  his 
customary  blunt  common  sense,  "  by  what  passes  among  us  in 

x  "  El  Castillo  Interior,"  Moradas  Sextas,  cap.  iii. 


330  AN   INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

these  days.  Anyone  who  has  barely  begun  to  meditate,  if  he 
becomes  conscious  of  these  words  during  his  self-recollection, 
pronounces  them  forthwith  to  be  the  work  of  God,  and,  con- 
sidering them  to  be  so,  says,  '  God  has  spoken  to  me,'  or,  '  I 
have  had  an  answer  from  God.'  But  it  is  not  true  :  such  an  one 
has  only  been  speaking  to  himself.  Besides,  the  affection  and 
desire  for  these  words,  which  men  encourage,  cause  them  to 
reply  to  themselves  and  then  to  imagine  that  God  has  spoken." x 
These  are  the  words  of  one  who  was  at  once  the  sanest  of  saints 
and  the  most  penetrating  of  psychologists :  words  which  our 
modern  unruly  amateurs  of  the  "  subconscious "  might  well 
take  to  heart. 

True  auditions  are  usually  heard  when  the  mind  is  in  a 
state  of  deep  absorption  without  conscious  thought :  that  is  to 
say,  at  the  most  favourable  of  all  moments  for  contact  with  the 
transcendental  world.  They  translate  into  articulate  language 
some  aspect  of  that  ineffable  apprehension  of  Reality  which  the 
contemplative  enjoys :  crystallize  those  clairvoyant  intuitions, 
those  prophetic  hints  which  surge  in  on  him  so  soon  as  he  lays 
himself  open  to  the  influence  of  the  supra-sensible.  Sometimes, 
however,  mystical  intuition  takes  the  form  of  a  sudden  and 
ungovernable  uprush  of  knowledge  from  the  deeps  of  person- 
ality. Then,  auditions  may  break  in  upon  the  normal  activities 
of  the  self  with  startling  abruptness.  It  is  in  such  cases  that 
their  objective  and  uncontrollable  character  is  most  sharply 
felt.  However  they  may  appear,  they  are,  says  St.  Teresa, 
"  very  distinctly  formed  ;  but  by  the  bodily  ear  they  are  not 
heard.  They  are,  'however,  much  more  clearly  understood  than 
if  they  were  heard  by  the  ear.  It  is  impossible  not  to  under- 
stand them,  whatever  resistance  we  may  offer.  .  .  .  The  words 
formed  by  the  understanding  effect  nothing,  but  when  our  Lord 
speaks,  it  is  at  once  word  and  work.  .  .  .  The  human  locution  \i.e.y 
the  work  of  imagination]  is  as  something  we  cannot  well  make 
out,  as  if  we  were  half  asleep  :  but  the  divine  locution  is  a  voice 
so  clear,  that  not  a  syllable  of  its  utterance  is  lost.  It  may 
occur,  too,  when  the  understanding  and  the  soul  are  so  troubled 
and  distracted  that  they  cannot  form  one  sentence  correctly : 
and  yet  grand  sentences,  perfectly  arranged,  such  as  the  soul 
in     its    most    recollected    state    never    could     have    formed, 

1  "  Subidadel  Monte  Carmelo,"  1.  ii.  cap.  xxix.  4. 


VOICES  AND  VISIONS  331 

are  uttered:  and  at  the  first  word,  as  I  have  said,  change  it 
utterly." J 

St.  Teresa's  whole  mystic  life  was  governed  by  voices :  her 
active  career  as  a  foundress  was  guided  by  them.  They  advised 
her  in  small  things  as  in  great.  Often  they  interfered  with  her 
plans,  ran  counter  to  her  personal  judgment,  forbade  a  founda- 
tion on  which  she  was  set,  or  commanded  one  which  appeared 
imprudent  or  impossible.  They  concerned  themselves  with 
journeys,  with  the  purchase  of  houses  ;  they  warned  her  of 
coming  events.2  She  seldom  resisted  them,  though  it  con- 
stantly happened  that  the  action  on  which  they  insisted  seemed 
the  height  of  folly  :  and  though  they  frequently  involved  her  in 
hardships  and  difficulties,  she  never  had  cause  to  regret  this 
blind  reliance  upon  decrees  which  she  regarded  as  coming 
direct  from  God,  and  which  certainly  did  emanate  from  a  life 
greater  than  her  own,  in  touch  with  transcendent  levels  of 
consciousness. 

So  far  from  mere  vague  intuitions  are  the  "  distinct  interior 
words  n  which  the  mystic  hears  within  his  mind,  that  Suso  is 
able  to  state  that  the  hundred  meditations  on  the  Passion  thus 
revealed  to  him  were  spoken  in  German  and  not  in  Latin.3  St. 
Teresa's  own  auditions  were  all  of  this  interior  kind — some 
11  distinct  "  and  some  "  substantial  "  or  inarticulate — as  her 
corresponding  visions  were  nearly  all  of  the  "  intellectual "  or 
"  imaginary  "  sort :  that  is  to  say,  she  was  not  subject  to  sensible 
hallucination.  Often,  however,  the  boundary  is  overpassed,  and 
the  locution  seems  to  be  heard  by  the  mystic's  outward  ear,  as 
in  the  case  of  those  voices  which  guided  the  destinies  of  the 
Blessed  Joan  of  Arc,  or  the  Figure  upon  the  Cross  which  spoke 
to  St.  Francis  of  Assisi.  We  then  have  the  third  form — 
"  exterior  words  " — which  the  mystics  for  the  most  part  regard 
with  suspicion  and  dislike. 

Sometimes  audition  assumes  a  musical  rather  than  a  verbal 
character :  a  form  of  perception  which  probably  corresponds  to 
the  temperamental  bias  of  the  self,  the  ordered  sweetness  of 
Divine  Harmony  striking  responsive  chords  in  the  music-loving 

1  Vida,  cap.  xxv.  §§  2,  5,  6.  See  also  for  a  detailed  discussion  of  all  forms  of 
auditions  St.  John  of  the  Cross,  op.  cit.,  1.  ii.  caps,  xxviii.  to  xxxi. 

2  "  El  Libro  de  las  Fundaciones  "  is  full  of  instances. 

3  Suso,  "  Buchlein  von  der  ewigen  Weisheit,"  Prologue. 


332  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

soul.  The  lives  of  St.  Francis  of  Assisi,  St.  Catherine  of  Siena, 
and  Richard  Rolle  provide  obvious  instances  of  this *  :  but 
Suso,  in  whom  automatism  assumed  its  richest  and  most  varied 
forms,  has  also  given  in  his  autobiography  some  characteristic 
examples. 

"  One  day  .  .  .  whilst  the  Servitor  was  still  at  rest,  he  heard 
within  himself  a  gracious  melody  by  which  his  heart  was  greatly 
moved.  And  at  the  moment  of  the  rising  of  the  morning  star, 
a  deep  sweet  voice  sang  within  him  these  words,  Stella  Maria 
maris,  hodie  processit  ad  ortum.  That  is  to  say,  Mary  Star  of 
the  Sea  is  risen  to-day.  And  this  song  which  he  heard  was  so 
spiritual  and  so  sweet,  that  his  soul  was  transported  by  it  and 
he  too  began  to  sing  joyously.  .  .  .  And  one  day — it  was  in 
carnival  time — the  Servitor  had  continued  his  prayers  until  the 
moment  when  the  bugle  of  the  watch  announced  the  dawn. 
Therefore,  he  said  to  himself,  Rest  for  an  instant,  before  you 
salute  the  shining  Morning  Star.  And,  whilst  that  his  senses 
were  at  rest,  behold  !  angelic  spirits  began  to  sing  the  fair 
Respond  :  \  Illuminare,  illuminare,  Jerusalem  !  '  And  this  song 
was  echoed  with  a  marvellous  sweetness  in  the  deeps  of  his  soul. 
And  when  the  angels  had  sung  for  some  time  his  soul  over- 
flowed with  joy :  and  his  feeble  body  being  unable  to  support 
such  happiness,  burning  tears  escaped  from  his  eyes."2 

Closely  connected  on'  the  one  hand  with  the  phenomena  of 
automatic  words,  on  the  other  with  those  of  prophecy  and 
inspiration,  is  the  prevalence  in  mystical  literature  of  revelations 
which  take  the  form  of  dialogue  :  of  intimate  colloquies  between 
Divine  Reality  and  the  Soul.  The  Revelations  of  Julian  of 
Norwich  and  St.  Catherine  of  Siena,  and  many  of  those  of  the 
Blessed  Angela  of  Foligno,  appear  to  have  been  received  by 
them  in  this  way.  We  seem  as  we  read  them  to  be  present  at 
the  outpourings  of  the  Divine  Mind,  snatching  at  some  form  of 
words  on  Its  way  through  the  human  consciousness.  We  feel 
on  the  one  hand  a  "  one-ness  with  the  Absolute  "  on  the  part  of 
the  mystic  which  has  made  her  really,  for  the  time  being,  the 
"  voice  of  God " :  whilst  on  the  other  we  recognize  in  her  the 
persistence  of  the  individual,  exalted  but  not  yet  wholly  absorbed 

1  "Fioretti,"  "  Delle  Istimate  "  2.     E.  Gardner,  "  St.  Catherine  of  Siena,"  p.  15. 
Rolle,  "  The  Fire  of  Love,"  bk.  i.  cap.  xvi. 
3  Leben,  cap.  vi. 


VOICES   AND  VISIONS  333 

in  the  Divine,  whose  questions,  here  and  there,  break  in  upon 
the  revelation  which  is  mediated  to  it  by  its  deeper  mind. 

Duologues  of  this  sort  are  reported  with  every  appear- 
ance of  realism  and  good  faith  by  Suso,  Tauler,  Mechthild  of 
Magdeburg,  Angela  of  Foligno,  St.  Teresa,  and  countless 
other  mystics.  The  third  book  of  the  "Imitation  of  Christ" 
contains  some  conspicuously  beautiful  examples,  which  may 
or  may  not  be  due  to  literary  artifice.  The  self,  wholly 
obsessed  by  the  intimate  sense  of  divine  companionship, 
receives  its  messages  in  the  form  of  "  distinct  interior  words  "  ; 
as  of  an  alien  voice,  speaking  within  the  mind  with  such  an 
accent  of  validity  and  spontaneity  as  to  leave  no  room  for 
doubt  as  to  its  character.  Often,  as  in  Julian's  Revelations, 
the  discourses  of  the  "  Divine  Voice,"  its  replies  to  the  eager 
questions  of  the  self,  are  illustrated  by  imaginary  visions. 
Since  these  dialogues  are,  on  the  whole,  more  commonly 
experienced  in  the  illuminated  than  the  unitive  part  of  the 
Mystic  Way,  that  self — retaining  a  clear  consciousness  of  its 
own  separateness,  and  recognizing  the  Voice  as  personal  and 
distinct  from  its  own  soul — naturally  enters  into  a  communion 
which  has  an  almost  conversational  character,  replies  to  ques- 
tions or  asks  others  in  its  turn :  and  in  this  dramatic  style  the 
content  of  its  intuitions  is  gradually  expressed.  We  have 
then  an  extreme  form  of  that  dissociation  which  we  all  experi- 
ence in  a  slight  degree  when  we  "  argue  with  ourselves."  But 
in  this  case  one  of  the  speakers  is  become  the  instrument  of  a 
power  other  than  itself,  and  communicates  to  the  mind  new 
wisdom  and  new  life. 

The  peculiar  rhythmical  language  of  genuine  mystic  dia- 
logue of  this  kind — for  often  enough,  as  in  Suso's  "  Book  of  the 
Eternal  Wisdom,"  it  is  deliberately  adopted  as  a  literary  device 
— is  an  indication  of  its  automatic  character.1  Expression, 
once  it  is  divorced  from  the  critical  action  of  the  surface  intelli- 
gence, always  tends  to  assume  a  dithyrambic  form.  Measure 
and  colour,  exaltation  of  language,  here  take  a  more  important 
place  than  the  analytic  intellect  will  generally  permit.  This 
feature  is  easily  observable  in  prophecy,  and  in  automatic 
writing.  It  forms  an  interesting  link  with  poetry  which — in 
so  far  as  it  is  genuine  and  spontaneous — is  largely  the  result 

1  Compare  p.  95. 


334  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

of  subliminal  activity.  Life,  which  eludes  language,  can  yet — 
we  know  not  why — be  communicated  by  rhythm :  and  the 
mystic  fact  is  above  all  else  the  communication  of  a  greater 
Life.  Hence  we  must  not  take  it  amiss  if  the  voice  of  the 
Absolute,  as  translated  to  us  by  those  mystics  who  are  alone 
capable  of  hearing  it,  often  seems  to  adopt  the  "grand 
manner." 

Vision 

Let  us  pass  now  from  the  effort  of  man's  deeper  mind  to 
speak  truth  to  his  surface-intelligence,  to  the  effort  of  the  same 
mysterious  power  to  show  truth :  in  psychological  language, 
from  auditory  to  visual  automatism.  "  Vision,"  that  vaguest  of 
words,  has  been  used  by  the  friends  and  enemies  of  the  mystics 
to  describe  or  obscure  a  wide  range  of  experience :  from  form- 
less intuition,  through  crude  optical  hallucination,  to  the  volun- 
tary visualizations  common  to  the  artistic  mind.  In  it  we  must 
include  that  personal  and  secret  vision  which  is  the  lover's 
glimpse  of  Perfect  Love,  and  the  great  pictures  seen  by  clair- 
voyant prophets  acting  in  their  capacity  as  eyes  of  the  race. 
Of  these,  the  two  main  classes  of  vision,  says  Denis  the  Car- 
thusian, the  first  kind  are  to  be  concealed,  the  second  declared. 
The  first  are  more  truly  mystic,  the  second  are  more  prophetic 
in  type.  Even  so,  and  ruling  out  prophetic  vision  from  our 
inquiry,  a  sufficient  variety  of  experience  remains  in  the  purely 
mystical  class.  St.  Teresa's  fluid  and  formless  apprehension  of 
the  Trinity,  her  concrete  visions  of  Christ,  Mechthild  of  Magde- 
burg's poetic  dreams,  Suso's  sharply  pictured  allegories,  even 
Blake's  soul  of  a  flea,  all  come  under  this  head. 

Now  since  no  one  can  know  much  of  what  it  is  really  like 
to  have  a  vision  but  the  visionaries  themselves,  it  will  be  inter- 
esting to  see  what  they  have  to  say  on  this  subject :  and  to 
notice  the  respects  in  which  their  self-criticisms  agree  with  the 
conclusions  of  psychology.  We  forget,  whilst  arguing  indus- 
triously on  these  matters,  that  it  is  really  as  impossible  for 
those  who  have  never  experienced  a  voice  or  vision  to  discuss 
it  with  intelligence,  as  it  is  for  stay-at-homes  to  discuss  the 
passions  of  the  battle-field  on  the  materials  supplied  by  war 
correspondents.  No  second-hand  account  of  a  vision  can  truly 
report  the   experience   of   the    person   whose   perceptions   or 


VOICES  AND  VISIONS  335 

illusions  present  themselves  in  this  form.  "  We  cannot,"  says 
R6cejac,  "  remind  ourselves  too  often  that  the  mystic  act  con- 
sists in  relations  between  the  Absolute  and  Freedom  which  are 
incommunicable.  We  shall  never  know,  for  instance,  what  was 
the  state  of  consciousness  of  some  citizen  of  the  antique  world 
when  he  gave  himself  without  reserve  to  the  inspiring  sugges- 
tions of  the  Sacred  Fire  or  some  other  image  which  evoked 
the  infinite."1  Neither  shall  we  ever  know,  unless  it  be  our 
good  fortune  to  attain  to  it,  the  secret  of  that  consciousness 
which  is  able  to  apprehend  the  Transcendent  in  visionary 
terms. 

The  first  thing  we  notice  when  we  come  to  this  inquiry  is 
that  the  mystics  are  all  but  unanimous  in  their  refusal  to 
attribute  importance  to  any  kind  of  visionary  experience.2  The 
natural  timidity  and  stern  self-criticism  with  which  they 
approach  auditions  is  here  greatly  increased  :  and  this,  if  taken 
to  heart,  might  well  give  pause  to  their  more  extreme  enemies 
and  defenders.  "  If  it  be  so,"  says  Hilton  of  automatisms  in 
general,  "  that  thou  see  any  manner  of  light  or  brightness  with 
thy  bodily  eye  or  in  imagination,  other  than  every  man  seeth ; 
or  if  thou  hear  any  pleasant  wonderful  sounding  with  thy  ear, 
or  in  thy  mouth  any  sweet  sudden  savour,  other  than  what  thou 
knowest  to  be  natural,  or  any  heat  in  thy  breast  like  fire,  or 
any  manner  of  delight  in  any  part  of  thy  body,  or  if  a  spirit 
appears  bodily  to  thee  as  it  were  an  angel  to  comfort  thee  or 
teach  thee  ;  or  if  any  such  feeling,  which  thou  knowest  well 
that  it  cometh  not  of  thyself,  nor  from  any  bodily  creature, 
beware  in  that  time  or  soon  after,  and  wisely  consider  the 
stirrings  of  thy  heart ;  for  if  by  occasion  of  the  pleasure  and 
liking  thou  takest  in  the  said  feeling  or  vision  thou  feelest  thy 
heart  drawn  .  .  .  from  the  inward  desire  of  virtues  and  of 
spiritual  knowing  and  feeling  of  God,  for  to  set  the  sight  of  thy 
heart  and  thy  affection,  thy  delight  and  thy  rest,  principally  in 
the  said  feelings  or  visions,  supposing  that  to  be  a  part  of 

1  "  Les  Fondements  de  la  Connaissance  Mystique,"  p.  149. 

2  Here,  as  on  other  points,  the  exception  which  proves  the  rule  is  Blake.  But 
Blake's  visions  differed  in  some  important  respects  from  those  of  his  fellow-mystics  ; 
they  were  "corporeal,"  not  "imaginary"  in  type,  and  do  not  so  much  represent 
visualized  intuitions  as  actual  and  constant  perceptions  of  the  inhabitants  of  that 
"real  and  eternal  world"  in  which  he  held  that  it  was  man's  privilege  to  dwell. 


336  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

heavenly  joy  or  angels'  bliss  .  .  .  then  is  this  feeling  very 
suspicious  to  come  from  the  enemy  ;  and  therefore,  though  it 
be  never  so  liking  and  wonderful,  refuse  it  and  assent  not 
thereto."1  Nearly  every  master  of  the  contemplative  life  has 
spoken  to  the  same  effect:  none,  perhaps,  more  strongly  than  that 
stern  and  virile  lover  of  the  Invisible,  St.  John  of  the  Cross, 
who  was  relentless  in  hunting  down  even  the  most  "  spiritual " 
illusions,  eager  to  purge  mind  as  well  as  morals  of  all  taint 
of  the  unreal. 

"  Spiritual  men,"  he  says,  "  are  occasionally  liable  to  repre- 
sentations and  objects,  set  before  them  in  a  supernatural  way. 
They  sometimes  see  the  forms  and  figures  of  those  of  another 
life,  saints  or  angels,  good  and  evil,  or  certain  extraordinary 
lights  and  brightness.  They  hear  strange  words,  sometynes 
seeing  those  who  utter  them  and  sometimes  not.  They  have 
a  sensible  perception  at  times  of  most  sweet  odours  without 
knowing  whence  they  proceed.  .  .  .  Still,  though  all  these  may 
happen  to  the  bodily  senses  in  the  way  of  God,  we  must  never 
rely  on  them  nor  encourage  them  ;  yea,  rather  we  must  fly 
from  them,  without  examining  whether  they  be  good  or  evil. 
For,  inasmuch  as  they  are  exterior  and  in  the  body,  there  is 
the  less  certainty  of  their  being  from  God.  It  is  more  natural 
that  God  should  communicate  Himself  through  the  spirit — 
wherein  there  is  greater  security  and  profit  for  the  soul — than 
through  the  senses,  wherein  there  is  usually  much  danger  and 
delusion,  because  the  bodily  sense  decides  upon,  and  judges, 
spiritual  things,  thinking  them  to  be  what  itself  feels  them  to 
be,  when  in  reality  they  are  as  different  as  body  and  soul, 
sensuality  and  reason."  2 

Again,  "  in  the  high  state  of  the  union  of  love,  God  does 
not  communicate  Himself  to  the  soul  under  the  disguise  of 
imaginary  visions,  similitudes  or  figures,  neither  is  there  place 
for  such,  but  mouth  to  mouth.  .  .  .  The  soul,  therefore,  that  will 
ascend  to  this  perfect  union  with  God,  must  be  careful  not  to 
lean  upon  imaginary  visions,  forms,  figures,  and  particular  intel- 
ligible objects,  for  these  things  can  never  serve  as  proportionate 
or  proximate  means  towards  so  great  an  end  ;  yea,  rather  they 

1  "The  Scale  of  Perfection,"  bk.  i.  cap.  xi. 

2  "  Subida  del  Monte  Carmelo,"  1.  ii.  cap.  xi.     The  whole  chapter  should  be 
read  in  this  connection. 


VOICES  AND  VISIONS  337 

are  an  obstacle  in  the  way,  and  therefore  to  be  guarded  against 
and  rejected."1 

So,  too,  Madame  Guyon.  Ecstasies,  raptures,  and  visions, 
she  says,  are  far  inferior  to  "  pure  orison  " — that  dumb  absorp- 
tion in  God  which  she  learned  at  the  time  of  her  conversion. 
"  Visions  are  experienced  in  those  powers  which  are  inferior  to 
the  will :  and  they  should  always  have  their  effect  in  the  will, 
and  afterwards  they  should  lose  themselves  in  the  experience 
of  that  which  one  has  seen,  known,  and  heard  in  these  states : 
for  without  this  the  soul  will  never  arrive  at  perfect  union. 
Otherwise,  that  which  she  will  have,  and  to  which  she  may  even 
give  the  name  of  union,  will  be  only  a  mediated  union,  that  is 
to  say,  an  influx  of  the  gifts  of  God  into  her  powers  [i.e.,  illumi- 
nation] ;  but  this  is  not  God  Himself.  It  is  therefore  very 
important  to  prevent  souls  from  resting  in  visions  and  ecstasies, 
for  this  may  check  them  almost  for  their  whole  lives.  More, 
these  graces  are  greatly  subject  to  illusion.  ...  Of  these  sort 
of  gifts,  the  least  pure,  and  those  most  subject  to  illusion,  are 
visions  and  ecstasies.  Raptures  and  revelations  [exalted  and 
abrupt  intuitions]  are  not  quite  so  much:  though  these  also  are 
not  a  little  so."  "  The  vision,"  says  Madame  Guyon  again,  "  is 
never  God  Himself  and  hardly  ever  Jesus  Christ,  as  those  who 
have  had  it  suppose  ...  it  seems  to  me  that  the  apparitions 
which  we  believe  to  be  Jesus  Christ  Himself  are  like  what  we 
see  when  the  sun  is  reflected  in  the  clouds  so  brilliantly  that 
those  who  are  not  in  the  secret  think  that  it  is  the  sun  which 
they  see,  although  it  is  only  his  reflection.  Thus  it  is  that 
Jesus  Christ  is  imaged  in  our  minds  in  what  is  called  Intellectual 
Visions^  which  are  the  most  perfect.  .  .  .  Phantoms  and  pious 
pictures  also  imprint  themselves  on  the  imagination.  There 
are  also  corporeal  visions,  the  least  spiritual  of  all>  and  the  most 
subject  to  illusion! '2 

Vision,  then,  is  recognized  by  the  true  contemplative  as  at 
best  a  very  imperfect,  oblique,  and  untrustworthy  method  of 
apprehension  :  it  is  ungovernable,  capricious,  liable  to  deception, 
and  the  greater  its  accompanying  hallucination  the  more  sus- 
picious it  becomes.  One  and  all,  however,  distinguish  different 
classes  of  visionary  experience  ;  and  differentiate  sharply  between 
the  value  of  the  vision  which  is  "  felt "  rather  than  seen,  and  the 

1  "Subida  del  Monte  Carmelo,"  1.  ii.  cap.  xvi.  8  Vie,  pt.  i.  cap.  ix. 


338  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

true  optical  hallucination  which  is  perceived,  exterior  to  the 
subject,  by  the  physical  sight. 

We  may  trace  in  visions,  as  we  have  done  in  voices — for 
these  are,  from  the  psychologist's  point  of  view,  strictly  parallel 
phenomena — a  progressive  externalization  on  the  self's  part  of 
those  concepts  or  intuitions  which  form  the  bases  of  all  auto- 
matic states.  Three  main  groups  have  been  distinguished  by 
the  mystics,  and  illustrated  over  and  over  again  from  their 
experiences.  These  are  (i)  Intellectual,  (2)  Imaginary,  and  (3) 
Corporeal  vision:  answering  to  (1)  Substantial  or  inarticulate, 
(2)  Interior  and  distinct,  (3)  Exterior  words.  With  the  first  two 
we  must  now  concern  ourselves.  As  to  corporeal  vision,  it  has 
few  peculiarities  of  interest  to  the  student  of  pure  mysticism. 
Like  the  "  exterior  word  "  it  is  little  else  than  a  more  or  less 
uncontrolled  externalization  of  inward  memories,  thoughts,  or 
intuitions — often,  as  Madame  Guyon  acutely  observed,  of  some 
pious  picture  which  has  become  imprinted  on  the  mind — 
which  may,  in  some  subjects,  attain  the  dimensions  of  true 
sensorial  hallucination. 

(1)  Intellectual  Vision, — The  "intellectual  vision,"  like  the 
"  substantial  word  "  as  described  to  us  by  the  mystics,  is  of  so 
elusive,  spiritual,  and  formless  a  kind  that  it  is  very  hard  to 
distinguish  it  from  that  act  of  pure  contemplation  in  which  it 
generally  takes  its  rise.  These  moods  and  apprehensions  of  the 
soul  are  so  closely  linked  together — the  names  applied  to  them 
are  so  often  little  more  than  the  struggles  of  different  individuals 
to  describe  by  analogy  an  experience  which  is  one — that  we  risk 
a  loss  of  accuracy  the  moment  that  classification  begins.  The 
intellectual  vision,  so  far  as  we  can  understand  it,  seems  to  be  a 
something  not  sought  but  put  before  the  mind,  and  seen  or  per- 
ceived by  the  whole  self  by  means  of  a  sense  which  is  neither 
sight  nor  feeling,  but  partakes  of  the  character  of  both.  It  is 
intimate  but  indescribable  :  definite,  yet  impossible  to  define. 
There  is  a  passage  in  the  "  Consolations  "  of  Angela  of  Foligno 
which  describes  very  vividly  the  sequence  of  illuminated  states 
which  leads  up  to  and  includes  the  intuitions  which  form  the 
substance  of  this  "  formless  vision  "  and  its  complement  the 
"  formless  word  "  :  and  this  does  far  more  towards  making  us 
realize  its  nature  than  the  most  painstaking  psychological 
analysis  could  ever  do. 


VOICES  AND  VISIONS  339 

"  It  must  be  known,"  says  Angela,  "that  God  cometh  some- 
times unto  the  soul  when  it  hath  neither  called  nor  prayed  unto 
nor  summoned  Him.  And  He  doth  instil  into  the  soul  a  fire 
not  customary,  wherein  it  doth  greatly  delight  and  rejoice  ;  and 
it  doth  believe  that  this  hath  been  wrought  by  God  Himself,  but 
this  is  not  certain.  Presently  the  soul  doth  perceive  that  God  is 
inwardly  within  itself  because — albeit  it  cannot  behold  Him 
within — it  doth  nevertheless  perceive  that  His  grace  is  present 
with  it,  wherein  it  doth  greatly  delight.  Yet  is  not  even  this 
certain.  Presently  it  doth  further  perceive  that  God  cometh 
unto  it  with  most  sweet  words,  wherein  it  delighteth  yet  more, 
and  with  much  rejoicing  doth  it  feel  God  within  it ;  yet  do 
some  doubts  still  remain,  albeit  but  few.  .  .  .  Further,  when  God 
cometh  unto  the  soul,  it  is  sometimes  given  unto  it  to  behold 
Him ;  and  it  beholdeth  Him  devoid  of  any  bodily  shape  or 
form,  and  more  clearly  than  doth  one  man  behold  another. 
For  the  eyes  of  the  soul  do  behold  a  spiritual  and  not  a  bodily 
presence,  of  the  which  I  am  not  able  to  speak  because  words  and 
imagination  do  fail  me.  And  in  very  truth  the  soul  doth 
rejoice  in  that  sight  with  an  ineffable  joy,  and  regardeth  nought 
else,  because  this  it  is  which  doth  fill  it  with  most  inestimable 
satisfaction.  This  searching  and  beholding  (wherein  God  is  seen 
in  such  a  manner  that  the  soul  can  behold  naught  else)  is  so 
profound  that  much  doth  it  grieve  me  that  I  cannot  make 
manifest  aught  whatsoever  of  it ;  seeing  that  it  is  not  a  thing 
the  which  can  be  touched  or  imagined  or  judged  of."  x 

Intellectual  vision,  then,  seems  to  be  closely  connected  with 
that  "  consciousness  of  the  Presence  of  God  "  which  we  dis- 
cussed in  the  last  chapter:  though  the  contemplatives  them- 
selves declare  that  it  differs  from  it.2  It  is  distinguished 
apparently  from  that  more  or  less  diffused  consciousness  of 
Divine  Immanence  by  the  fact  that,  although  unseen  of  the 
eyes,  it  can  be  exactly  located  in  space.  The  mystic's  general 
awareness  of  the  divine  is  here  focussed  upon  one  point — a 
point  to  which  some  theological  or  symbolic  character  is  at  once 
attached.    The  result  is  a  sense  of  presence  so  concrete,  defined, 

1  B.  Angelae  de  Fulginio,  "  Visionum  et  Instructional!  Liber,"  cap.  lii.  (English 
translation,  p.  24). 

2  "  It  is  not  like  that  presence  of  God  which  is  frequently  felt  .  .  .  this  is  a  great 
grace  .  .  .  but  it  is  not  vision  "  (St.  Teresa,  Vida,  cap.  xxvii.  §  6). 


340  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

and  sharply  personal  that,  as  St.  Teresa  says,  it  carries  more  con- 
viction than  bodily  sight.  This  invisible  presence  is  generally 
identified  by  Christian  mystics  rather  with  the  Humanity  of 
Christ  than  with  the  unconditioned  Absolute.  "  In  the  prayer 
of  union  and  of  quiet,"  says  St.  Teresa  again,  "certain  inflow- 
ings of  the  Godhead  are  present ;  but  in  the  vision  the  Sacred 
Humanity  also,  together  with  them,  is  pleased  to  be  our  com- 
panion and  to  do  us  good." ?  "  When  one  is  not  thinking  at  all 
of  any  such  favour,"  she  says  again,  "  and  has  not  even  had  the 
idea  of  meriting  it,  suddenly  one  feels  at  one's  side  Our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  without  seeing  Him  either  with  the  eyes  of  the 
body  or  those  of  the  soul.  This  sort  of  vision  is  called  intellectual. 
I  do  not  know  why.  . .  .  Intellectual  visions  do  not  go  quickly,  like 
imaginary  ones,  but  last  several  days,  sometimes  more  than  a 
year.  .  .  .  We  know  that  God  is  present  in  all  our  actions :  but 
such  is  the  infirmity  of  our  nature,  that  we  often  lose  sight  of 
this  truth.  Here  this  forgetfulness  is  impossible,  because  Our 
Lord,  Who  is  close  to  the  soul,  keeps  her  constantly  awake : 
and  as  she  has  an  almost  continual  love  for  That  which  she  sees, 
or  rather  feels  close  to  her,  she  receives  the  more  frequently  the 
favours  of  which  we  have  spoken."  2 

In  such  a  state — to  which  the  term  "vision"  is  barely  applic- 
able— it  will  be  observed  that  consciousness  is  at  its  highest, 
and  hallucination  at  its  lowest  point.  Nothing  is  seen,  even 
with  the  eyes  of  the  mind :  as,  in  the  parallel  case  of  the 
"  substantial  word,"  nothing  is  said.  It  is  pure  apprehension  : 
in  the  one  case  of  Personality,  in  the  other  of  knowledge.  "  The 
immediate  vision  of  the  naked  Godhead,"  says  Suso  of  this,  "  is 
without  doubt  the  pure  truth :  a  vision  is  to  be  esteemed  the 
more  noble  the  more  intellectual  it  is,  the  more  it  is  stripped  of 
all  image  and  approaches  the  state  of  pure  contemplation."  3 

We  owe  to  St.  Teresa  our  finest  first-hand  account  of  this 
strange  condition  of  "  awareness."  It  came  upon  her  abruptly, 
after  a  period  of  psychic  distress,  and  seemed  to  her  to  be  an 
answer  to  her  unwilling  prayers  that  she  might  be  "  led  "  by 
some  other  way  than  that  of  "  interior  words  *' ;  which  were,  in 
the  opinion  of  her  director,  "  so  suspicious."     "  I  could  not  force 

1  Op.  cit.,  loc.  cit. 

a  St.  Teresa,  "  El  Castillo  Interior,"  Moradas  Sextas,  cap.  viii. 

s  Leben,  cap.  liv. 


VOICES  AND  VISIONS  341 

myself,"  she  says,  "  to  desire  the  change,  nor  believe  that  I  was 
under  the  influence  of  Satan.  Though  I  was  doing  all  I  could 
to  believe  the  one  and  to  desire  the  other,  it  was  not  in  my  power 
to  do  so."  She  resolved  this  divided  state  by  making  an  act  of 
total  surrender  to  the  will  of  God  :  and  it  seems  to  have  been  as 
the  result  of  this  release  of  stress,  this  willing  receptivity,  that 
the  new  form  of  automatism  suddenly  developed  itself,  rein- 
forcing and  justifying  the  auditions,  and  bringing  peace  and 
assurance  to  the  distracted  surface-self. 

"At  the  end  of  two  years  spent  in  prayer  by  myself  and 
others  for  this  end,  namely,  that  our  Lord  would  either  lead  me 
by  another  way,  or  show  the  truth  of  this — for  now  the  locutions 
of  our  Lord  were  extremely  frequent — this  happened  to  me.  I 
was  in  prayer  one  day — it  was  the  feast  of  the  glorious  St.  Peter 
— when  I  saw  Christ  close  by  me,  or,  to  speak  more  correctly, 
felt  Him  ;  for  I  saw  nothing  with  the  eyes  of  the  body,  nothing 
with  the  eyes  of  the  soul.  He  seemed  to  me  to  be  close  beside 
me ;  and  I  saw,  too,  as  I  believe,  that  it  was  He  who  was  speak- 
ing to  me.  As  I  was  utterly  ignorant  that  such  a  vision  was 
possible,  I  was  extremely  afraid  at  first,  and  did  nothing  but 
weep ;  however,  when  He  spoke  to  me  but  one  word  to  reassure 
me,  I  recovered  myself,  and  was,  as  usual,  calm  and  comforted, 
without  any  fear  whatever.  Jesus  Christ  seemed  to  be  by  my 
side  continually,  and,  as  the  vision  was  not  imaginary,  I  saw  no 
form  ;  but  I  had  a  most  distinct  feeling  that  He  was  always  on 
my  right  hand,  a  witness  of  all  I  did  ;  and  never  at  any  time,  if 
I  was  but  slightly  recollected,  or  not  too  much  distracted,  could 
I  be  ignorant  of  His  near  presence.  I  went  at  once  to  my  con- 
fessor in  great  distress,  to  tell  him  of  it.  He  asked  in  what  form 
I  saw  our  Lord.  I  told  him  I  saw  no  form.  He  then  said  : 
1  How  did  you  know  that  it  was  Christ  ?  '  I  replied  that  I  did 
not  know  how  I  knew  it ;  but  I  could  not  help  knowing  that 
He  was  close  beside  me  .  .  .  there  are  no  words  whereby  to 
explain — at  least,  none  for  us  women,  who  know  so  little  ; 
learned  men  can  explain  it  better. 

"  For  if  I  say  that  I  see  Him  neither  with  the  eyes  of  the  body 
nor  those  of  the  soul — because  it  was  not  an  imaginary  vision — 
how  is  it  that  I  can  understand  and  maintain  that  He  stands 
beside  me,  and  be  more  certain  of  it  than  if  I  saw  Him  ?  If  it 
be  su  noosed  that  it  is  as  if  a  person  were  blind,  or  in  the  dark, 


342  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

and  therefore  unable  to  see  another  who  is  close  to  him,  the 
comparison  is  not  exact.  There  is  a  certain  likelihood  about  it, 
however,  but  not  much,  because  the  other  senses  tell  him  who  is 
blind  of  that  presence :  he  hears  the  other  speak  or  move,  or  he 
touches  him  ;  {but  in  these  visions  there  is  nothing  like  this. 
The  darkness  is  not  felt ;  only  He  renders  Himself  present  to 
the  soul  by  a  certain  knowledge  of  Himself  which  is  more  clear 
than  the  sun.  I  do  not  mean  that  we  now  see  either  a  sun  or 
any  other  brightness,  only  that  there  is  a  light  not  seen,  which 
illumines  the  understanding,  so  that  the  soul  may  have  the  fruition 
of  so  great  a  good.     This  vision  brings  with  it  great  blessings."  x 

(2)  In  Imaginary  Vision,  as  in  "interior  words,"  there  is 
again  no  sensorial  hallucination.  The  self  sees  sharply  and 
clearly,  it  is  true :  but  is  perfectly  aware  that  it  does  so  in  virtue 
of  its  most  precious  organ — "  that  inward  eye  which  is  the  bliss 
of  solitude."  2  Imaginary  Vision  is  the  spontaneous  and  auto- 
matic activity  of  a  power  which  all  artists,  all  imaginative  people, 
possess.  So  far  as  the  machinery  employed  in  it  is  concerned, 
there  is  little  real  difference  except  in  degree  between  Words- 
worth's imaginary  vision  of  the  "dancing  daffodils"  and  Suso's 
of  the  dancing  angels,  who  "  though  they  leapt  very  high  in  the 
dance,  did  so  without  any  lack  of  gracefulness."  3  Both  are 
admirable  examples  of  "  passive  imaginary  vision  " :  though  in 
the  first  case  the  visionary  is  aware  that  the  picture  seen  is 
supplied  by  memory,  whilst  in  the  second  it  arises  spontaneously 
like  a  dream  from  the  subliminal  region,  and  contains  elements 
which  may  be  attributed  to  love,  belief,  and  direct  intuition  of 
truth. 

Such  passive  imaginary  vision — by  which  I  mean  spontaneous 
mental  pictures  at  which  the  self  looks,  but  in  the  action  of 
which  it  does  not  participate — takes  in  the  mystics  two  main 
forms  :  (a)  purely  symbolic,  {b)  personal. 

1  St.  Teresa,  Vida,  cap.  xxvii.  §§  2-5. 

a  "  For  oft,  when  on  my  couch  I  lie 

In  vacant  or  in  pensive  mood, 

They  flash  upon  that  inward  eye 

Which  is  the  bliss  of  solitude ; 

And  then  my  heart  with  pleasure  fills, 

And  dances  with  the  daffodils." 

Wordsworth,  "The  Daffodils." 
3  Leben,  cap.  vii. 


VOICES  AND  VISIONS  343 

(a)  In  the  symbolic  form  there  is  no  mental  deception :  the  self 
is  aware  that  it  is  being  shown  truth  u  under  an  image."  Rulman 
Merswin's  "  Vision  of  Nine  Rocks  "  is  thus  described  to  us  as 
being  seen  by  him  in  a  sharp  picture,  the  allegorical  meaning  of 
which  was  simultaneously  presented  to  his  mind.  In  Suso's 
life  such  symbolic  visions  abound :  he  seems  to  have  lived 
always  on  the  verge  of  such  a  world  of  imagination,  and  to 
have  imbibed  truth  most  easily  in  this  form.  Thus :  "  It  hap- 
pened one  morning  that  the  Servitor  saw  in  a  vision  that  he  was 
surrounded  by  a  troop  of  heavenly  spirits.  He  therefore  asked 
one  of  the  most  radiant  amongst  these  Princes  of  the  Sky  to 
show  him  how  God  dwelt  in  his  soul.  The  angel  said  to  him, 
'  Do  but  fix  your  eyes  joyously  upon  yourself,  and  watch  how 
God  plays  the  game  of  love  within  your  loving  soul.'  And  he 
looked  quickly,  and  saw  that  his  body  in  the  region  of  his  heart 
was  pure  and  transparent  like  crystal :  and  he  saw  the  Divine 
Wisdom  peacefully  enthroned  in  the  midst  of  his  heart,  and  she 
was  fair  to  look  upon.  And  by  her  side  was  the  soul  of  the 
Servitor,  full  of  heavenly  desires ;  resting  lovingly  upon  the 
bosom  of  God,  Who  had  embraced  it,  and  pressed  it  to  His 
Heart.  And  it  remained  altogether  absorbed  and  inebriated 
with  love  in  the  arms  of  God  its  well-beloved."  l 

In  such  a  vision  as  this,  we  see  the  mystic's  passion  for  the 
Absolute,  his  intuition  of  Its  presence  in  his  soul,  combining 
with  the  constituents  of  poetic  imagination  and  expressing 
themselves  in  an  allegorical  form.  It  is  really  a  visualized 
poem,  inspired  by  a  direct  contact  with  truth.  Of  the  same 
kind  are  many  of  those  great  reconstructions  of  Eternity  in 
which  mystics  and  seers  of  the  transcendent  and  outgoing  type 
actualized  their  profound  apprehensions  of  truth.  In  such  cases, 
as  Beatrice  told  Dante  when  he  saw  the  great  vision  of  the 
River  of  Light,  the  thing  seen  is  the  shadowy  presentation  of  a 
transcendent  Reality  which  the  self  is  not  yet  strong  enough 
to  see. 

"  E  vidi  lume  in  forma  di  riviera 

fulvide  di  fulgore,  intra  due  rive 
dipinte  di  mirabil  primavera. 


1  Suso,  Leben,  cap.  vi. 


344  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

Di  tal  fnimana  uscian  faville  vive, 

e  d'  ogni  parte  si  mettean  nei  fiori, 
quasi  rubin  che  oro  circonscrive. 
Poi  come  inebriate  dagli  odori, 

riprofondavan  se  nel  miro  gurge, 
e,  s'una  entrava,  un'  altra  n'  uscia  fuori." 
***** 
"il  sol  degli  occhi  miei 
Anco  soggiunse  :  II  fiume,  e  li  topazii 

ch'  entrano  ed  escono,  e  il  rider  dell'  erbe 
son  di  lor  vero  ombriferi  prefazii. 
Non  che  da  se  sien  queste  cose  acerbe : 
ma  e  difetto  dalla  parte  tua, 
che  non  hai  viste  ancor  tanto  superbe."  ■ 

In  the  last  two  lines  of  this  wonderful  passage,  the  whole 
philosophy  of  vision  is  expressed.  It  is  an  accommodation 
of  the  supra-sensible  to  our  human  disabilities,  a  symbolic 
reconstruction  of  reality.  This  symbolic  reconstruction  is  seen 
as  a  profoundly  significant,  vivid,  and  dramatic  dream  :  and 
since  this  dream  is  directly  representative  of  truth,  and  initiates 
the  visionary  into  the  atmosphere  of  the  Eternal,  it  may  well 
claim  precedence  over  that  prosaic  and  perpetual  vision  which 
we  call  the  "real  world."  In  it — as  in  the  meaningless  dreams 
of  our  common  experience — vision  and  audition  are  often  com- 
bined. Many  of  the  visions  of  St.  Mechthild  of  Hackborn  are 
of  this  complex  type.  Thus — "  She  saw  in  the  Heart  of 
God,  as  it  were  a  virgin  exceeding  fair,  holding  a  ring  in  her 
hand  on  which  was  a  diamond  :  with  which,  incessantly,  she 
touched  the  Heart  of  God.  Moreover,  the  soul  asked  why  that 
virgin  thus  touched  the  Heart  of  God.  And  the  virgin 
answered,  '  I  am  Divine  Love  and  this  stone  signifieth  the 
sin  of  Adam.  ...  As  soon  as  Adam  sinned,  I  introduced 
myself  and  intercepted  the  whole  of  his  sin,  and  by  thus 
ceaselessly  touching  the  Heart  of  God  and  moving  Him  to 

1  Par.  xxx.  6 1-8 1  :  "  And  I  saw  light  in  the  form  of  a  river  blazing  with  radiance, 
streaming  between  banks  painted  with  a  marvellous  spring.  Out  of  that  river  issued 
living  sparks  and  settled  on  the  flowers  on  every  side,  like  rubies  set  in  gold.  Then, 
as  it  were  inebriated  by  the  perfume,  they  plunged  again  into  the  wondrous  flood, 
and  as  one  entered  another  issued  forth.  .  .  .  Then  added  the  Sun  of  my  eyes  :  The 
river,  the  topazes  that  enter  and  come  forth,  the  smiling  flowers,  are  shadowy  fore- 
tastes of  their  reality.  Not  that  these  things  are  themselves  imperfect ;  but  on  thy 
side  is  the  defect,  in  that  thy  vision  cannot  rise  so  high."  This  vision  probably  owes 
something  to  Mechthild  of  Magdeburg's  concept  of  Deity  as  a  Flowing  Light. 


VOICES   AND   VISIONS  345 

pity,  I  suffered  Him  not  to  rest  until  the  moment  when  I  took 
the  Son  of  God  from  His  Father's  Heart  and  laid  Him  in  the 
Virgin  Mother's  womb.'  .  .  .  Another  time,  she  saw  how  Love, 
under  the  likeness  of  a  fair  Virgin,  went  round  about  the 
consistory  singing  Alone  I  have  made  the  circuit  of  heaven,  and  1 
have  walked  on  the  waves  of  the  sea.  In  these  words  she  under- 
stood how  Love  had  subjected  to  herself  the  Omnipotent 
Majesty  of  God,  had  inebriated  His  Unsearchable  Wisdom,  had 
drawn  forth  all  His  most  sweet  goodness ;  and,  by  wholly 
conquering  His  divine  justice  and  changing  it  into  gentleness 
and  mercy,  had  moved  the  Lord  of  all  Majesty."  « 

Imaginary  vision  of  this  kind  is  probably  far  more  common 
than  is  generally  supposed  :  and  can  exist  without  any  disturb- 
ance of  that  balance  of  faculties  which  is  usually  recognized  as 
"sane."  In  many  meditative  persons  it  appears,  involuntarily, 
at  the  summit  of  a  train  of  thought,  which  it  sometimes 
illustrates  and  sometimes  contradicts.  The  picture  may  show 
itself  faintly  against  a  background  of  mist ;  or  may  start  into 
existence  sharply  focused,  well-lighted,  and  alive.  It  always 
brings  with  it  a  greater  impression  of  reality  than  can  be 
obtained  by  the  more  normal  operations  of  the  mind. 

(b)  The  symbolic  and  artistic  character  of  the  visions  we 
have  been  discussing  is  obvious.  There  is,  however,  another 
form  of  imaginary  vision  which  must  be  touched  on  with  a 
gentler  hand.  In  this,  the  imagery  seized  upon  by  the  sub- 
liminal powers,  or  placed  before  the  mind  by  that  Somewhat 
Other  of  which  the  mystic  is  always  conscious  over  against 
himself,  is  at  once  so  vivid,  so  closely  related  to  the  concrete 
beliefs  and  spiritual  passions  of  the  self,  and  so  perfectly 
expresses  its  apprehensions  of  God,  that  it  is  not  always 
recognized  as  symbolic  in  kind.  A  simple  example  of  this  is 
the  vision  of  Christ  at  the  moment  of  consecration  at  Mass, 
experienced  by  so  many  Catholic  ecstatics.2     Another  is  the 

x  Mechthild  of  Hackborn,    "  Liber  Specialis  Gratiae,"   1.  ii.  caps.  xvii.   and 

XXXV. 

2  For  instance,  the  Blessed  Angela  01  Foligno,  who  gives  in  her  u  Visions  and 
Consolations  "  a  complete  series  of  such  experiences  ;  ranging  from  an  almost  sublime 
apprehension  of  Divine  Beauty  (cap.  xxxvii.  English  translation,  p.  222)  to  a  concrete 
vision  of  two  eyes  shining  in  the  Host  (cap.  xliii.  English  translation,  p.  230).  "  I 
did  of  a  certainty  behold  Him  with  mine  eyes  in  that  sacrament,"  she  says,  "  poor, 
suffering,  bleeding,  crucified,  and  dead  upon   the   Cross"    (cap.   xxxviii.    p.   223). 


346  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

celebrated  vision  in  which  St.  Anthony  of  Padua  embraced  the 
Divine  Child.  St.  Teresa  is  one  of  the  few  mystics  who  have 
detected  the  true  character  of  automatisms  of  this  sort :  which 
bring  with  them — like  their  purer  forms,  the  intellectual  visions 
of  God — a  vivid  apprehension  of  Personality,  the  conviction  of  a 
living  presence,  rather  than  the  knowledge  of  new  facts. 
"Now  and  then,"  she  says  of  her  own  imaginary  visions  of 
Christ,  "  it  seemed  to  me  that  what  I  saw  was  an  image :  but 
most  frequently  it  was  not  so.  I  thought  it  was  Christ  Himself, 
judging  by  the  brightness  in  which  He  was  pleased  to  show 
Himself.  Sometimes  the  vision  was  so  indistinct,  that  I 
thought  it  was  an  image  :  but  still,  not  like  a  picture,  however 
well  painted,  and  I  have  seen  a  good  many  pictures.  It  would 
be  absurd  to  suppose  that  the  one  bears  any  resemblance 
whatever  to  the  other,  for  they  differ  as  a  living  person  differs 
from  his  portrait,  which,  however  well  drawn,  cannot  be  life-like, 
for  it  is  plain  that  it  is  a  dead  thing."  * 

"  This  vision,"  she  says  in  another  place,  "  passes  like  a  flash 
of  lightning  .  .  .  the  word  image  here  employed,  does  not 
signify  a  picture  placed  before  the  eyes,  but  a  veritable 
living  image,  which  sometimes  speaks  to  the  soul  and  reveals 
great  secrets  to  her."  2 

It  seems,  then,  that  this  swift  and  dazzling  vision  of 
Divine  Personality  may  represent  a  true  contact  of  the  soul 
with  the  Absolute  Life — a  contact  immediately  referred  to 
the  image  under  which  the  Self  is  accustomed  to  think  of 
its  God.  In  the  case  of  Christian  contemplatives  this  image 
will  obviously  be  most  usually  the  historical  Person  of 
Christ,   as    He   is  represented   in   sacred   literature   and    art.3 

"Another  time  I  beheld  Christ  in  the  consecrated  Host  as  a  child.  He  appeared 
certainly  to  be  a  child  of  twelve  years  of  age,  very  lordly,  as  though  He  held  the 
sceptre  and  the  dominion  "  (cap.  xlii.  p.  229).  (B.  Angelae  de  Fulginio,  "  Visionum 
et  Instructionum  Liber.") 

1  Vida,  cap.  xxviii.  §  11. 

a  "El  Castillo  Interior,"  Moradas  Sextas,  cap.  ix. 

*  "  On  one  of  the  feasts  of  St.  Paul,  while  I  was  at  Mass,  there  stood  before  me 
the  most  sacred  Humanity  as  painters  represent  Him  after  the  resurrection  "  (St. 
Teresa,  Vida,  cap.  xxviii.  §  4).  So  too  the  form  assumed  by  many  of  the  visions  01 
Angela  of  Foligno  is  obviously  due  to  her  familiarity  with  the  frescoed  churches  of 
Assisi  and  the  Vale  of  Spoleto.  "  When  I  did  bend  my  knees  upon  entering  in  at  the 
door  of  the  church,"  she  says,  "I  immediately  beheld  a  picture  of  St.  Francis  lying 
in  Christ's  bosom.      Then  said  Christ  unto  me,   'Thus  closely  will  I   hold  thee, 


VOICES  AND  VISIONS  347 

The  life-enhancing  quality  of  such  an  abrupt  apprehension, 
however,  the  profound  sense  of  reality  which  it  brings,  permit 
of  its  being  classed  not  amongst  vivid  dreams,  but  amongst 
those  genuine  mystic  states  in  which  "the  immanent  God, 
formless,  but  capable  of  assuming  all  forms,  expresses  Himself 
in  vision  as  He  had  expressed  Himself  in  words."  x  Certainty 
and  joy  are  always  felt  by  the  self  which  experiences  it.  It 
is  as  it  were  a  love-letter  received  by  the  ardent  soul ;  which 
brings  with  it  the  very  fragrance  of  personality,  along  with  the 
sign-manual  of  the  beloved. 

This  concrete  vision  of  Christ  has  the  true  mystic  quality  of 
ineffability,  appearing  to  the  self  under  a  form  of  inexpressible 
beauty,  illuminated  with  that  unearthly  light  which  is  so 
persistently  reported  as  a  feature  of  all  transcendent  experience. 
The  artist's  exalted  consciousness  of  Beauty  as  a  form  of  Truth 
is  here  seen  operating  on  the  transcendental  plane.  Thus  when 
St.  Teresa  saw  only  the  Hands  of  God,  she  was  thrown  into 
an  ecstasy  of  adoration  by  their  shining  loveliness.2  "  If  I  were 
to  spend  many  years  in  devising  how  to  picture  to  myself  any- 
thing so  beautiful,"  she  says  of  the  imaginary  vision  of  Christ, 
"  I  should  never  be  able,  nor  even  know  how,  to  do  it ;  for  it  is 
beyond  the  scope  of  any  possible  imagination  here  below :  the 
whiteness  and  brilliancy  alone  are  inconceivable.  It  is  not  a 
brightness  which  dazzles,  but  a  delicate  whiteness,  an  infused 
brightness,  giving  excessive  delight  to  the  eyes,  which  are  never 
wearied  thereby  nor  by  the  visible  brightness  which  enables  us 
to  see  a  beauty  so  divine.  It  is  a  light  so  different  from  any 
light  here  below,  that  the  very  brightness  of  the  sun  we  see,  in 
comparison  with  the  brightness  and  light  before  our  eyes,  seems 
to  be  something  so  obscure  that  no  one  would  ever  wish  to  open 
his  eyes  again.  ...  In  short,  it  is  such  that  no  man,  however 
gifted  he  may  be,  can  ever  in  the  whole  course  of  his  life  arrive 
at  any  imagination  of  what  it  is.  God  puts  it  before  us  so 
instantaneously,  that  we  could  not  open  our  eyes  in  time  to  see 
it,  if  it  were  necessary  for  us  to  open  them  at  all.  But  whether 
our  eyes  be  open   or  shut,  it  makes  no  difference  whatever  : 

and  so  much  closer,  that  bodily  eyes  can  neither  perceive  nor  comprehend  it '" 
(B.  Angelae  de  Fulginio,  op.  cit.,  cap.  xx.  English  translation,  p.  165). 

1  Delacroix,  "Etudes  sur  le  Mysticisme,"  p.  116. 

2  Vida,  cap.  xxviii.  §  2. 


348  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

for  when  our  Lord  wills,  we  must  see  it,  whether  we  will 
or  not."1 

There  is  another  and  highly  important  class  of  visual 
automatisms:  those  which  I  have  chosen  to  call  Active 
Imaginary  Visions.  Whereas  vision  of  the  passive  kind  is 
the  expression  of  thought,  perception,  or  desire  on  the  part  of 
the  deeper  self:  active  vision  is  the  expression  of  a  change  in 
that  self,  and  generally  accompanies  some  psychological  crisis. 
In  this  vision,  which  always  has  a  dramatic  character,  the  self 
seems  to  itself  to  act,  not  merely  to  look  on.  Such  visions  may 
possess  many  of  the  characters  of  dream  :  they  may  be  purely 
symbolic ;  they  may  be  theologically  "  realistic."  They  may 
entail  a  journey  through  Hell,  Purgatory,  and  Heaven,  an 
excursion  into  fairyland,  a  wrestling  with  the  Angel  in  the  Way. 
Whatever  their  outward  form,  they  are  always  connected  with 
inward  results.  They  are  the  automatic  expressions  of  profound 
subliminal  activity :  not  merely  the  media  by  which  the  self's 
awareness  of  the  Absolute  is  strengthened  and  enriched,  but  the 
outward  and  visible  signs  of  its  movement  towards  new  levels  ot 
consciousness.  Hence  we  are  not  surprised  to  find  that  a 
dynamic  vision  of  this  sort  often  initiates  the  Unitive  Life.  Such 
are  the  imaginary  visions  reported  by  St.  Francis  of  Assisi  and 
St.  Catherine  of  Siena  at  the  moment  of  their  stigmatization : 
the  transverberation  of  St.  Teresa ;  the  heavenly  visitor  who 
announced  to  Suso  his  passage  from  the  "  lower  school  "  to  the 
"upper  school"  of  the  Holy  Spirit.2  But  perhaps  the  most 
picturesque  and  convincing  example  of  all  such  dramas  of  the 
soul,  is  that  which  is  known  in  art  as  the  "  Mystic  Marriage  of 
St.  Catherine  of  Siena." 

We  have  already  seen  that  Catherine,  who  was  subject  from 
childhood  to  imaginary  visions  and  interior  words,  had  long  been 
conscious  oi  a  voice  reiterating  the  promise  of  this  sacred 
betrothal ;  and  that  on  the  last  day  of  the  Carnival,  A.D.  1 366, 
it  said  to  her,  "  I  will  this  day  celebrate  solemnly  with  thee  the 


1  St.  Teresa,  op.  cit.,  cap.  xxviii.  §§  7,  8.  Angela  of  Foligno  says  of  an  equivalent 
vision  of  Christ,  "  His  beauty  and  adornment  cannot  be  described,  and  so  great  was 
my  joy  at  the  sight  of  Him,  that  I  do  think  that  it  will  never  fade,  and  there  was 
such  certainty  with  it  that  I  do  in  no  way  doubt  of  the  truth  thereof ' '  (Angelae  de 
Fulginio,  op.  cit.,  cap.  xlii.     English  translation,  p.  229). 

2  Leben,  cap.  xxi. 


VOICES  AND  VISIONS  349 

feast  of  the  betrothal  of  thy  soul,  and  even  as  I  promised  I  will 
espouse  thee  to  Myself  in  faith."  "  Then,"  says  her  legend, 
"whilst  the  Lord  was  yet  speaking,  there  appeared  the  most 
glorious  Virgin  His  Mother,  the  most  blessed  John,  Evangelist, 
the  glorious  apostle  Paul,  and  the  most  holy  Dominic,  father  of 
her  order  ;  and  with  these  the  prophet  David,  who  had  the 
psaltery  set  to  music  in  his  hands  ;  and  while  he  played  with 
most  sweet  melody  the  Virgin  Mother  of  God  took  the  right 
hand  of  Catherine  with  her  most  sacred  hand,  and,  holding  out 
her  fingers  towards  the  Son,  besought  Him  to  deign  to  espouse 
her  to  Himself  in  faith.  To  which  graciously  consenting  the 
Only  Begotten  of  God  drew  out  a  ring  of  gold,  which  had  in  its 
circle  four  pearls  enclosing  a  most  beauteous  diamond  ;  and 
placing  this  ring  upon  the  ring  finger  of  Catherine's  right  hand 
He  said,  ■  Lo,  I  espouse  thee  to  Myself,  thy  Creator  and  Saviour 
in  the  faith,  which  until  thou  dost  celebrate  thy  eternal  nuptials 
with  Me  in  Heaven  thou  wilt  preserve  ever  without  stain. 
Henceforth,  my  daughter,  do  manfully  and  without  hesitation 
those  things  which  by  the  ordering  of  My  providence  will  be  put 
into  thy  hands  ;  for  being  now  armed  with  the  fortitude  of  the 
faith,  thou  wilt  happily  overcome  all  thy  adversaries.'  Then 
the  vision  disappeared,  but  that  ring  ever  remained  on  her 
finger,  not  indeed  to  the  sight  of  others,  but  only  to  the  sight  of 
the  virgin  herself;  for  she  often,  albeit  with  bashfulness,  con- 
fessed to  me  that  she  always  saw  that  ring  on  her  finger,  nor 
was  there  any  time  when  she  did  not  see  it."  z 

It  is  not  difficult  to  discern  the  materials  from  which  this 
vision  has  been  composed.  As  far  as  its  outward  circumstances 
go,  it  is  borrowed  intact  from  the  legendary  history  of  St 
Catherine  of  Alexandria,  with  which  her  namesake,  the  "  dyer'? 


1  E.  Gardner,  "  St.  Catherine  of  Siena,"  p.  25.  Vita,  i.  xii.  1,  2  (Acta  S.S-,  loc 
cit.).  In  the  ring  which  she  always  saw  upon  her  finger,  we  seem  to  have  an  instance 
of  true  corporeal  vision  ;  which  finds  a  curiously  exact  parallel  in  the  life  of  St. 
Teresa.  "  On  one  occasion  when  I  was  holding  in  my  hand  the  cross  of  my  rosary, 
He  took  it  from  me  into  His  own  hand.  He  returned  it,  but  it  was  then  four  large 
stones  incomparably  more  precious  than  diamonds.  He  said  to  me  that  for  the 
future  that  cross  would  so  appear  to  me  always  :  and  so  it  did.  I  never  saw  the  wood 
of  which  it  was  made,  but  only  the  precious  stones.  They  were  seen,  however,  by  no 
one  else"  (Vida,  cap.  xxix.  §  8).  This  class  of  experience,  says  Augustine  Baker, 
particularly  gifts  of  roses,  rings,  and  jewels,  is  "much  to  be  suspected,"  except  h» 
"souls  of  a  long-continued  sanctity  "  ("  Holy  Wisdom,"  Treatise  iii.  §  iv.  cap.  iii.). 


350  AN  INTKODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

daughter  of  Italy,"  must  have  been  familiar  from  babyhood.1 
Caterina  Benincasa  showed  a  characteristic  artistic  suggestibility 
and  quickness  in  transforming  the  stuff  of  this  old  story  into  the 
medium  of  a  profound  personal  experience  :  as  her  contem- 
poraries amongst  the  Sienese  painters  took  subject,  method,  and 
composition  from  the  traditional  Byzantine  source,  yet  forced 
them  to  become  expressions  of  their  own  overpowering 
individuality.  The  important  matter  for  us,  however,  is  not 
the  way  in  which  the  second  Catherine  adapted  a  traditional 
story  to  herself,  actualized  it  in  her  experience :  but  the  fact 
that  it  was  for  her  the  sacramental  form  under  which  she  became 
acutely  and  permanently  conscious  of  union  with  God.  Long 
prepared  by  that  growing  disposition  of  her  deeper  self  which 
caused  her  to  hear  the  reiterated  promise  of  her  Beloved,  the 
vision  when  it  came  was  significant,  not  for  its  outward  circum- 
stances, but  for  its  permanent  effect  upon  her  life.  In  it  she 
passed  to  a  fresh  level  of  consciousness ;  entering  upon  that 
state  of  spiritual  wedlock,  of  close  and  loving  identification  with 
the  interests  of  Christ,  which  Richard  of  St.  Victor  calls  the 
"Third  Stage  of  Ardent  Love." 

Of  the  same  active  sort  is  St.  Teresa's  great  and  celebrated 
vision,  or  rather  experience,  of  the  Transverberation ;  in  which 
imagery  and  feeling  go  side  by  side  in  their  effort  towards 
expressing  the  anguish  of  insatiable  love.  "  I  saw,"  she  says, 
"  an  angel  close  by  me,  on  my  left  side,  in  bodily  form.  This  I 
am  not  accustomed  to  see  unless  very  rarely.  Though  I  have 
visions  of  angels  frequently,  yet  I  see  them  only  by  an  intel- 
lectual vision,  such  as  I  have  spoken  of  before.  It  was  our 
Lord's  will  that  in  this  vision  I  should  see  the  angel  in  this 
wise.  He  was  not  large,  but  small  of  stature,  and  most  beautiful 
— his  face  burning,  as  if  he  were  one  of  the  highest  angels,  who 
seem  to  be  all  of  fire :  they  must  be  those  whom  we  call 
Cherubim.  ...  I  saw  in  his  hand  a  long  spear  of  gold,  and  at 
the  iron's  point  there  seemed  to  be  a  little  fire.  He  appeared  to 
me  to  be  thrusting  it  at  times  into  my  heart,  and  to  pierce  my 
very  entrails ;  when  he  drew  it  out,  he  seemed  to  draw  them  out 
also  and  to  leave  me  all  on  fire  with  a  great  love  of  God.  The 
pain  was  so  great  that  it  made  me  moan  ;  and  yet  so  surpassing 
was  the  sweetness  of  this  excessive  pain  that  I  could  not  wish  to 

1   Vide  "  Legenda  Aurea,"  Nov.  xxv. 


VOICES  AND  VISIONS  351 

be  rid  of  it.  The  soul  is  satisfied  now  with  nothing  less  than 
God.  The  pain  is  not  bodily,  but  spiritual ;  though  the  body 
has  its  share  in  it,  even  a  large  one.  It  is  a  caressing  of  love 
so  sweet  which  now  takes  place  between  the  soul  and  God,  that 
I  pray  God  of  His  goodness  to  make  him  experience  it  who  may 
think  that  I  am  lying." 1 

Finally  it  should  be  added  that  dynamic  vision  may  assume 
a  purely  intellectual  form  ;  as  in  the  case  of  the  Blessed  Angela 
of  Foligno.  "  Being  thus  exalted  in  spirit  during  the  time  of 
Lent,  therefore,"  she  says,  "  I  was  joined  to  God  in  a  manner 
other  than  was  customary  for  me.  Methought  I  was  in  the 
midst  of  the  Trinity  in  a  manner  higher  and  greater  than  was 
usual,  for  greater  than  usual  were  the  blessings  I  received,  and 
continually  were  there  given  unto  me  gifts  full  of  delight,  and 
rejoicing  most  great  and  unspeakable.  All  this  was  so  far 
beyond  anything  which  had  heretofore  happened  unto  me  that 
vetily  a  divine  change  took  place  in  my  sou/,  which  neither  saint 
nor  angel  could  describe  or  explain.  This  divine  change,  or 
operation,  was  so  profound  that  no  angel  or  other  creature, 
howsoever  wise,  could  comprehend  it ;  wherefore  do  I  say  again 
that  it  seemeth  unto  me  to  be  evil  speaking  and  blasphemy  if  I 
do  try  to  tell  of  it."  2 

Automatic  Script 

The  rarest  of  the  automatic  activities  reported  to  us  in  connec- 
tion with  mysticism  is  that  of  "  automatic  writing."  This  form 
of  subliminal  action  has  already  been  spoken  of  in  an  earlier 
chapter  3 ;  where  two  of  the  most  marked  examples — Blake 
and  Madame  Guyon — are  discussed.  As  in  the  case  of  voice 
and  vision,  so  this  power  of  automatic  composition  may  and 
does  exist  in  various  degrees  of  intensity :  ranging  from  that 
"inspiration,"  that  irresistible  impulse  to  write,  of  which  all 
artists  are  aware,  to  the  extreme  form  in  which  the  hand  of 
the  conscious  self  seems  to  have  become  the  agent  of  another 
personality.  It  is  probably  present  to  some  extent  in  all  the 
literary  work  of  the  great  mystics,  whose  creative  power,  like 

1  Vida,  cap.  xxix.  §§  16,  17. 

3  "  Visionum  et  Instructionum  Liber,"  cap.  xxvii.  'English  translation,  p.  186). 

3  Pp.  78,  79- 


352  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

that  of  most  poets,  is  largely  dissociated  from  the  control  of 
the  will  and  the  surface  intelligence. 

St.  Catherine  of  Siena,  we  are  told,  dictated  her  great 
Dialogue  to  her  secretaries  whilst  in  the  state  of  ecstasy :  which 
probably  means  a  condition  of  consciousness  resembling  the 
"  trance  "  of  mediums,  in  which  the  deeper  mind  governs  the 
tongue.  Had  she  been  more  accustomed  to  the  use  of  the  pen 
— she  did  not  learn  writing  until  after  the  beginning  of  her 
apostolic  life — that  deeper  mind  would  almost  certainly  have 
expressed  itself  by  means  of  automatic  script.  As  it  is,  in  the 
rhythm  and  exaltation  of  its  periods,  the  Dialogue  bears  upon 
it  all  the  marks  of  true  automatic  composition  of  the  highest 
type.  The  very  discursiveness  of  its  style,  its  loose  employment 
of  metaphor,  the  strangely  mingled  intimacy  and  remoteness  of 
its  tone,  link  it  with  prophetic  literature ;  and  are  entirely 
characteristic  of  subliminal  energy  of  a  rich  type,  dissociated 
from  the  criticism  and   control  of  the  normal  consciousness.1 

So  too  the  writings  of  Rulman  Merswin,  if  we  accept  the 
ingenious  and  interesting  theory  of  his  psychic  state  elaborated 
by  M.  Jundt,2  were  almost  wholly  of  this  kind.  So  Blake  stated 
on  his  deathbed  that  the  credit  for  all  his  works  belonged  not 
to  himself,  but  to  his  "  celestial  friends  "3 :  i.e.^  to  the  inspiration 
of  a  personality  which  had  access  to  levels  of  truth  and  beauty 
unknown  to  his  surface  mind. 

St.  Teresa  was  of  much  the  same  opinion  in  respect  of  her 
great  mystical  works :  which  were,  she  said,  like  the  speech  of 
a  parrot  repeating,  though  he  cannot  understand,  the  things 
which  his  master  has  taught  him.  There  is  little  doubt  that 
her  powers  of  composition — as  we  might  expect  in  one  so  apt 
at  voice  and  vision — were  largely  of  the  uncontrolled,  inspired, 
or  "  automatic  "  kind.  She  wrote  most  usually  after  the  recep- 
tion of  Holy  Communion — that  is  to  say,  when  her  mystic 
consciousness  was  in  its  most  active  state — and  always  swiftly, 
without  hesitations  or  amendments.  Ideas  and  images  welled 
up  from  her  rich  and  active  subliminal  region  too  quickly, 
indeed,  for  her  eager,  hurrying  pen :  so  that  she  sometimes 
exclaimed,  "  Oh,  that  I  could  write  with  many  hands,  so  that 

1  On  this  point    I   must   respectfully  differ  from   Mr.    E.    Gardner.    See   his 
"St.  Catherine  of  Siena,"  p.  354. 

a  Supra,  p.  224  3  Berger,  "  William  Blake,"  p.  54. 


VOICES  AND  VISIONS  353 

none  were  forgotten!"1  In  Teresa's  unitive  state,  a  slight 
suggestion  was  enough  to  change  the  condition  of  her  con- 
sciousness, place  her  under  the  complete  domination  of  her 
deeper  mind.  Often,  she  said,  when  composing  the  "  Interior 
Castle,"  her  work  reacted  upon  herself.  She  would  suddenly 
be  caught  up  into  the  very  degree  of  contemplation  which 
she  was  trying  to  describe,  and  continued  to  write  in  this 
absorbed  or  entranced  condition,  clearly  perceiving  that  her 
pen  was  guided  by  a  power  not  her  own,  and  expressed  ideas 
unknown  to  her  surface  mind,  which  filled  her  with  astonish- 
ment. 

In  the  evidence  given  during  the  process  for  St.  Teresa's 
beatification,  Maria  de  San  Francisco  of  Medina,  one  of  her 
early  nuns,  stated  that  on  entering  the  saint's  cell  whilst  she 
was  writing  this  same  "  Interior  Castle "  she  found  her  so 
absorbed  in  contemplation  as  to  be  unaware  of  the  external 
world.  "If  we  made  a  noise  close  to  her,"  said  another,  Maria 
del  Nacimiento,  "  she  neither  ceased  to  write  nor  complained  of 
being  disturbed."  Both  these  nuns  and  also  Ana  de  la  Encar- 
nacion,  prioress  of  Granada,  affirmed  that  she  wrote  with 
immense  speed,  never  stopping  to  erase  or  to  correct :  being 
anxious,  as  she  said,  to  "  write  what  the  Lord  had  given  her, 
before  she  forgot  it."  They  and  many  others  declared  that 
when  she  was  thus  writing  she  seemed  like  another  being : 
and  that  her  face,  excessively  beautiful  in  expression,  shone 
with  an  unearthly  splendour  which  afterwards  faded  away.2 

As  for  Madame  Guyon,  whose  temperament  had  in  it  almost 
as  much  of  the  medium  as  of  the  mystic,  and  whose  passion  for 
quietism  and  mental  passivity  left  her  almost  wholly  at  the 
mercy  of  subconscious  impulses,  she  exhibits  by  turns  the 
phenomena  of  clairvoyance,  prophecy,  telepathy,  and  automatic 
writing,  in  bewildering  profusion. 

"  I  was  myself  surprised,"  she  says,  "  at  the  letters  which 
Thou  didst  cause  me  to  write,  and  in  which  I  had  no  part  save 
the  actual  movement  of  my  hand :  and  it  was  at  this  time  that 
I  received  that  gift  of  writing  according  to  the  interior  mind, 
and  not  according  to  my  own  mind,  which  I  had  never  known 
before.     Also  my  manner  of  writing  was  altogether  changed, 

1  G.  Cunninghame  Graham,  "  Santa  Teresa,"  vol.  i.  p.  202. 

2  Ibid.,  pp.  203-4. 


354  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

and  every  one  was  astonished  because  I  wrote  with  such  great 
facility."1 

Again,  "  As  soon  as  I  began  to  read  Holy  Scripture,  I  was 
caused  to  write  the  passage  that  I  had  read  ;  and  at  once,  the 
interpretation  of  it  was  given  to  me.  In  writing  the  passage 
I  had  not  the  least  thought  of  the  interpretation.  Yet  no  sooner 
was  it  written,  than  it  was  given  to  me  to  explain  it,  writing 
with  inconceivable  swiftness.  Before  writing,  I  knew  not  what 
I  was  going  to  write :  in  writing,  I  saw  that  I  wrote  things 
which  I  had  never  known,  and  during  the  time  of  this  mani- 
festation it  was  revealed  to  me  that  I  had  in  me  treasures  of 
knowledge  and  understanding  which  I  did  not  know  that  I 
possessed.  .  .  .  Thou  didst  make  me  write  with  so  great  a 
detachment  that  I  was  obliged  to  leave  off  and  begin  again  as 
Thou  didst  choose.  Thou  didst  try  me  in  every  way :  suddenly 
Thou  wouldst  cause  me  to  write,  then  at  once  to  cease,  and  then 
to  begin  again.  When  I  wrote  during  the  day,  I  would  be 
suddenly  interrupted,  and  often  left  words  half  written,  and 
afterwards  Thou  wouldst  give  me  whatever  was  pleasing  to 
Thee.  Nothing  of  that  which  I  wrote  was  in  my  mind  :  my 
mind,  in  fact,  was  so  wholly  at  liberty  that  it  seemed  a  blank 
I  was  so  detached  from  that  which  I  wrote  that  it  seemed 
foreign  to  me.  .  .  .  All  the  faults  in  my  writings  come  from 
this :  that  being  unaccustomed  to  the  operations  of  God,  I  was 
often  unfaithful  to  them,  thinking  that  I  did  well  to  continue 
writing  when  I  had  time,  without  being  moved  thereto,  because 
I  had  been  told  to  finish  the  work.  So  that  it  is  easy  to  dis- 
tinguish the  parts  which  are  fine  and  sustained,  and  those  which 
have  neither  savour  nor  grace.  I  have  left  them  as  they  are ;  so 
that  the  difference  between  the  Spirit  of  God  and  the  human  or 
natural  spirit  may  be  seen.  ...  I  continued  always  to  write, 
and  with  an  inconceivable  swiftness,  for  the  hand  could  hardly 
keep  up  with  the  dictating  spirit :  and  during  this  long  work, 
I  never  changed  my  method,  nor  did  I  make  use  of  any  book. 
The  scribe  could  not,  however  great  his  diligence,  copy  in  five 
days  that  which  I  wrote  in  a  single  night.  ...  At  the  beginning 
I  made  many  mistakes,  not  being  yet  broken  to  the  operation 
of  the  spirit  of  God  which  caused  me  to  write.  For  He  made 
me  cease  writing  when  I  had  time  to  write  and  could  have  done 

1  Vie,  pt.  ii.  cap.  ii. 


VOICES  AND   VISIONS  355 

it  without  inconvenience,  and  when  I  felt  a  great  need  of  sleep, 
then  it  was  He  made  me  write.  ...  I  will  add  to  all  that  I  have 
been  saying  on  my  writings,  that  a  considerable  part  of  the  book 
on  'Judges'  was  lost.  Being  asked  to  complete  it,  I  rewrote 
the  lost  portions.  Long  afterwards,  when  I  was  moving  house, 
these  were  found  in  a  place  where  no  one  could  have  imagined 
that  they  would  be ;  and  the  old  and  new  versions  were 
exactly  alike — a  circumstance  which  greatly  astonished  those 
persons  of  learning  and  merit  who  undertook  its  verifica- 
tion."! 

A  far  greater  and  stronger  mystic  than  Madame  Guyon, 
Jacob  Boehme,  was  also  in  his  literary  composition  the  more 
or  less  helpless  tool  of  some  power  other  than  his  normal  sur- 
face-mind. It  is  clear  from  his  own  words  concerning  it,  that 
his  first  book,  the  "  Aurora,"  produced  after  the  great  illumination 
which  he  received  in  the  year  1610,  was  no  deliberate  composi- 
tion, but  an  example  of  inspired  or  automatic  script.  This 
strange  work,  full  of  sayings  of  a  deep  yet  dazzling  darkness 
was  condemned  by  the  local  tribunal ;  and  Boehme  was  for- 
bidden to  write  more.  For  seven  years  he  obeyed.  Then  "  a 
new  motion  from  on  high "  seized  him,  and  under  the  pressure 
of  this  subliminal  impulse — which,  characteristically,  he  feels 
as  coming  from  without  not  from  within — he  began  to  write 
again. 

This  second  outburst  of  composition,  too,  was  almost  purely 
automatic  in  type.  The  transcendental  consciousness  was 
in  command,  and  Boehme's  surface-intellect  could  exert 
but  little  control.  "  Art,"  he  says  of  it  himself,  "  has  not 
wrote  here,  neither  was  there  any  time  to  consider  how  to 
set  it  punctually  down,  according  to  the  Understanding  of 
the  Letters,  but  all  was  ordered  according  to  the  Direction  of 
the,  Spirit,  which  often  went  in  haste,  so  that  in  many  words 
Letters  may  be  wanting,  and  in  some  Places  a  Capital  Letter 
for  a  Word  ;  so  that  the  Penman's  Hand,  by  reason  he  was  not 
accustomed  to  it,  did  often  shake.  And  though  I  could  have 
wrote  in  a  more  accurate,  fair  and  plain  Manner,  yet  the 
Reason  was  this,  that  the  burning  Fire  often  forced  forward 

1  Vie,  pt.  ii.  cap.  xxi.  Those  who  wish  to  compare  this  vivid  subjective  account 
of  automatic  writing  with  modern  attested  instances  may  consult  Myers,  "Human 
Personality,"  and  Oliver  Lodge,   "The  Survival  of  Man." 


356  AN   INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

with  Speed,  and  the  Hand  and  Pen  must  hasten  directly  after 
it ;  for  it  comes  and  goes  as  a  sudden  Shower."  x 

No  description  could  give  more  vividly  than  this  the  spon- 
taneous and  uncontrollable  character  of  these  automatic  states  ; 
the  welling-up  of  new  knowledge,  the  rapid  formation  of 
sentences  :  so  quick,  that  the  hand  of  the  subject  can  hardly 
keep  pace  with  that  "burning  Fire,"  the  travail  of  his  inner 
mind.  As  in  vision,  so  here,  the  contents  of  that  inner  mind, 
its  hoarded  memories,  will  influence  the  form  of  the  message: 
and  hence,  in  Boehme's  works,  the  prevalence  of  that  obscure 
Kabalistic  and  Alchemical  imagery  which  baffles  even  his 
most  eager  readers,  and  which  is  the  result  of  an  earlier 
acquaintance  with  the  works  of  Paracelsus,  Weigel,  and 
Sebastian  Franck.2  Such  language,  however,  no  more  dis- 
credits the  "  power  behind  the  pen,"  than  the  form  under  which 
St.  Catherine  of  Siena  apprehended  the  mystic  marriage  dis- 
credits her  attainment  of  the  unitive  life.  In  the  fruit  of  such 
automatic  travail,  such  a  "  wrestling  with  the  Angel  in  the  way," 
the  mystic  offers  to  our  common  humanity  the  chalice  of  the 
Spirit  of  Life.  We  may  recognize  the  origins  of  the  ornament 
upon  the  chalice :  but  we  cannot  justly  charge  him  with  counter- 
feiting the  Wine. 

We  have  been  dealing  throughout  this  section  with  means 
rather  than  with  ends:  means  snatched  at  by  the  struggling  self 
which  has  not  yet  wholly  shaken  itself  free  from  "  image,"  in 
its  efforts  to  seize  somehow — actualize,  enjoy,  and  adore — that 
Absolute  which  is  the  sum  of  its  desires.  No  one  will  ever 
approach  an  understanding  of  this  phase  of  the  mystical  con- 
sciousness, who  brings  to  it  either  a  contempt  for  the  minds 
which  could  thus  simply  and  sometimes  childishly  objectivize 
the  Divine,  or  a  superstitious  reverence  for  the  image,  apart 
from  the  formless  Reality  at  which  it  hints.  Between  these  two 
extremes  lies  our  hope  of  grasping  the  true  place  of  automatisms 
on  the  Mystic  Way  :  of  seeing  in  them  instances  of  the  adapta- 
tion of  those  means  by  which  we  obtain  consciousness  of  the 
phenomenal  world,  to  an  apprehension  of  that  other  world 
whose  attainment  is  humanity's  sublimest  end. 

1  Works  of  Jacob  Boehme  (English  translation,  vol.  i.  p.  xiv.). 
8  See  E.  Boutroux,  "  1>  Philosophe  Allemand,  Jacob  Boehme." 


CHAPTER   VI 
INTROVERSION.    Part  I  :   RECOLLECTION   AND   QUIET 

Introversion  is  the  characteristic  mystic  art — Its  development  accompanies  organic 
growth — It  is  susceptible  of  education — The  value  of  tradition — The  training  of  will 
and  attention — Contemplation  the  only  real  way  of  perceiving  anything — Its  method 
described — An  experiment — Introversion — Ecstasy — the  two  aspects  of  contempla- 
tive consciousness — The  ground  of  the  soul — Philosophic  contemplation — The 
Degrees  of  Orison — their  nature — The  end  of  contemplation — Hilton — Naked 
orison — All  "stages"  or  degrees  of  orison  arbitrary  and  diagrammatic — But  some 
division  essential  to  description — Three  stages — Recollection,  Quiet,  Contemplation — 
Orison  grows  with  the  growing  self — disciplines  the  mind,  will  and  heart — St.  Teresa's 
degrees  of  orison — It  is  a  progress  in  love — a  retreat  from  circumference  to  centre — 
Its  end  is  union — Recollection — a  difficult  process — Boehme — Meditation — its  char- 
acteristics— it  develops  into  Recollection — A  spiritual  gymnastic — St.  Teresa — Quiet 
— its  characteristics — largely  inexpressible — Suspension  of  thought — Its  development 
from  Recollection — It  is  a  state  of  humility — Its  nature  described — Two  aspects  of 
Quiet :  positive  and  negative — Eckhart — The  Epistle  of  Private  Counsel — St.  Teresa 
— Quiet  and  Quietism — The  "  danger-zone  "  of  introversion—  Ruysbroeck  on  Quietism 
— its  evils — It  is  a  perversion  of  truth — Molinos — Von  Hilgel — The  distinguishing 
mark  of  true  Quiet — Madame  Guyon — Quiet  is  a  transitional  state 

IN  our  study  of  the  First  Mystic  Life,  its  purification  and 
illumination,  we  have  been  analysing  and  considering  a 
process  of  organic  development ;  an  evolution  of  person- 
ality. This  may  be  called — indifferently — either  a  movement 
of  consciousness  towards  higher  levels,  or  a  remaking  of  con- 
sciousness consequent  on  the  emergence  and  growth  of  a  factor 
which  is  dormant  in  ordinary  man,  but  destined  to  be  supreme 
in  the  full-grown  mystic  type.  We  have  seen  the  awakening 
of  this  factor — this  spark  of  the  soul — with  its  innate  capacity 
for  apprehending  the  Absolute.  We  have  seen  it  attack  and 
conquer  the  old  sense-fed  and  self-centred  life  of  the  normal 
self,  and  introduce  it  into  a  new  universe,  lit  up  by  the  Un- 
created Light.     These  were  the  events  which,  taken  together, 

357 


358  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

constituted  the  "  First  Mystic  Life "  ;  a  complete  round  upon 
the  spiral  road  which  leads  from  man  to  God. 

What  we  have  been  looking  at,  then,  is  a  life-process,  the 
establishment  of  a  certain  harmony  between  the  self  and 
Reality:  and  we  have  discussed  this  life-process  rather  as  if 
it  contained  no  elements  which  were  not  referable  to  natural 
and  spontaneous  growth,  to  the  involuntary  adjustments  of  the 
organism  to  that  extended  or  transcendental  universe  of  which 
it  gradually  becomes  aware. 

But  side  by  side  with  this  organic  growth  goes  a  specific 
kind  of  activity  which  is  characteristic  of  the  mystic :  a  form 
under  which  his  consciousness  works  best,  and  his  awareness 
of  the  Infinite  is  enriched  and  defined.  Already  once  or  twice 
we  have  been  in  the  presence  of  this  activity,  have  been  obliged 
to  take  its  influence  into  account :  as,  were  we  studying  other 
artistic  types,  we  could  not  leave  the  medium  in  which  they 
work  wholly  on  one  side. 

Contemplation  is  the  mystic's  medium.  It  is  to  him  that 
which  harmony  is  to  the  musician,  form  and  colour  to  the 
artist,  measure  to  the  poet :  the  vehicle  by  which  he  can  best 
apprehend  the  Good  and  Beautiful,  enter  into  communion  with 
the  Real.  As  "  voice  "  or  "  vision  "  is  the  way  in  which  his 
transcendental  consciousness  presents  its  discoveries  to  the 
surface-mind,  so  contemplation  is  the  way  in  which  it  makes 
those  discoveries,  perceives  the  supra-sensible.  The  growth  of 
his  effective  genius,  therefore,  is  connected  with  his  growth  in 
this  art:  and  that  growth  is  largely  conditioned  by  education. 

The  painter,  however  great  his  natural  powers  may  be,  can 
hardly  dispense  with  some  technical  training  ;  the  musician  is 
wise  if  he  acquaint  himself  at  least  with  the  elements  of 
counterpoint.  So  too  the  mystic.  It  is  true  that  he  some- 
times seems  to  spring  abruptly  to  the  heights,  to  be  caught 
into  ecstasy  without  previous  preparation  :  as  a  poet  may 
startle  the  world  by  a  sudden  masterpiece.  But  unless  they 
be  backed  by  discipline,  these  sudden  and  isolated  flashes  of 
inspiration  will  not  long  avail  for  the  production  of  great  works. 
"  Ordina  quest'  amore,  o  tu  che  m'ami "  is  the  one  imperative 
demand  made  by  Goodness,  Truth,  and  Beauty,  by  every  aspect 
of  Reality,  upon  the  human  soul.  Lover  and  philosopher,  saint, 
artist,  and  scientist,  must  alike  obey  or  fail. 


INTROVERSION:  RECOLLECTION  AND   QUIET    359 

Transcendental  genius,  then,  obeys  the  laws  which  govern 
all  other  forms  of  genius,  in  being  susceptible  of  culture :  and, 
indeed,  cannot  develop  its  full  powers  without  an  educative 
process  of  some  kind.  This  strange  art  of  contemplation,  which 
the  mystic  tends  naturally  to  practise  during  the  whole  of  his 
career — which  develops  step  by  step  with  his  vision  and  his 
love — demands  of  the  self  which  undertakes  it  the  same  hard 
dull  work,  the  same  slow  training  of  the  will,  which  lies  behind 
all  supreme  achievement,  and  is  the  price  of  all  true  liberty.  It 
is  the  want  of  such  training — such  "  supersensual  drill " — which 
is  responsible  for  the  mass  of  vague,  ineffectual,  and  sometimes 
harmful  mysticism  which  has  always  existed  :  the  dilute  cosmic 
emotion  and  limp  spirituality  which  hangs,  as  it  were,  on  the 
skirts  of  the  true  seekers  of  the  Absolute  and  brings  discredit 
upon  their  science. 

In  this,  as  in  all  the  other  and  lesser  arts  which  have  been 
developed  by  the  race,  education  consists  largely  in  a  humble"! 
willingness  to  submit  to  the  discipline,  and  profit  by  the  lessons, 
of  the  past.  Tradition  runs  side  by  side  with  experience ;  the 
past  collaborates  with  the  present.  Each  new  and  eager  soul 
rushing  out  towards  the  only  end  of  Love  passes  on  its  way  the 
landmarks  left  by  others  upon  the  pathway  to  Reality.  If  it  be 
wise  it  observes  them :  and  finds  in  them  rather  helps  towards 
attainment  than  hindrances  to  that  freedom  which  is  of  the 
essence  of  the  mystic  act.  This  act,  it  is  true,  is  in  the  last 
resort  a  solitary  affair,  "  the  flight  of  the  Alone  to  the  Alone." 
There  is  nothing  of  "  social  Christianity "  in  that  supreme 
adventure  whereby  "  God  and  the  soul  are  made  one  thing." 
At  the  same  time,  here  as  elsewhere,  man  cannot  safely  divorce 
his  own  personal  history  from  that  of  the  race.  The  best  and 
truest  experience  does  not  come  to  the  eccentric  and  individual 
pilgrim  whose  intuitions  are  his  only  law  :  but  rather  to  him 
who  submits  personal  intuition  to  the  guidance  afforded  by  the 
general  history  of  the  mystic  type.  Those  who  refuse  this 
guidance  do  as  a  fact  expose  themselves  to  all  the  dangers 
which  crowd  about  the  individualist :  from  heresy  at  one  end 
of  the  scale  to  madness  at  the  other. 

Vae  Soli!  Nowhere  more  clearly  than  in  the  history  of 
mysticism  do  we  observe  the  essential  solidarity  of  mankind :  the 
penalty  paid  by  those  who  will  not  acknowledge  it. 


360  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

Now  the  education  which  tradition  has  ever  prescribed 
for  the  mystic,  consists  in  the  gradual  development  of  an 
extraordinary  faculty  of  concentration,  a  power  of  spiritual 
attention.  It  is  not  enough  that  he  should  naturally  be 
"aware  of  the  Absolute,"  unless  he  be  able  to  contemplate 
it :  just  as  the  mere  possession  of  eyesight  or  hearing,  how- 
ever acute,  needs  to  be  supplemented  by  trained  powers  of 
perception  and  reception  if  we  are  really  to  appreciate — see 
or  hear  to  any  purpose — the  masterpieces  of  Music  or  of 
Art.  More,  Nature  herself  reveals  little  of  her  secret  to 
those  who  only  look  and  listen  with  the  outward  ear  and 
eye.  The  condition  of  all  valid  seeing  and  hearing  upon  every 
plane  of  consciousness  lies  not  in  the  sharpening  of  the  senses, 
but  in  a  peculiar  attitude  of  the  whole  personality :  in  a  self- 
forgetting  attentiveness,  a  profound  concentration,  a  self- 
merging,  which  operates  a  real  communion  between  the  seer 
and  the  seen :   in  a  word  in  Contemplation. 

Contemplation,  then,  is  a  power  which  we  may — and  often 
must — apply  to  the  perception,  not  only  of  Divine  Reality,  but 
of  anything.  It  is  the  condition  under  which  all  things  give 
up  to  us  the  secret  of  their  life.  All  artists  are  of  necessity  in 
some  measure  contemplative.  "  Innocence  of  eye  "  is  little 
else  than  this :  and  only  by  its  means  can  they  see  truly  those 
things  which  they  desire  to  represent.  I  invite  those  to  whom 
these  statements  seem  a  compound  of  cheap  psychology  and 
cheaper  metaphysics  to  clear  their  minds  of  prejudice  and 
submit  this  matter  to  an  experimental  test.  If  they  will  be 
patient  and  honest — and  unless  they  belong  to  that  minority 
which  is  temperamentally  incapable  of  the  simplest  contem- 
plative act — they  will  emerge  from  the  experiment  possessed 
of  a  little  new  knowledge  as  to  the  nature  of  the  relation 
between  the  human  mind  and  the  outer  world. 

All  that  is  asked  is  that  we  shall  look  for  a  little  time,  in  a 
special  and  undivided  manner,  at  some  simple,  concrete,  and 
external  thing. 

This  object  of  our  contemplation  may  be  almost  anything 
we  please  :  a  picture,  a  statue,  a  tree,  a  distant  hillside,  a 
growing  plant,  running  water,  little  living  things.  We  need  not, 
with  Kant,  go  to  the  starry  heavens.  "A  little  thing  the 
quantity    of  an  hazel  nut "  will  do  for  us,    as  it  did  for  Lady 


INTROVERSION:  RECOLLECTION  AND  QUIET    361 

Julian  long  ago.1  Remember,  it  is  a  practical  experiment  on 
which  we  are  set ;  not  an  opportunity  of  pretty  and  pantheistic 
meditation. 

Look,  then,  at  this  thing  which  you  have  chosen.  Wilfully 
refuse  the  messages  which  countless  other  aspects  of  the  world 
are  sending,  and  so  concentrate  your  whole  attention  on 
this  one  act  of  sight  that  all  other  objects  are  excluded  from 
the  conscious  field.  Do  not  think,  but  as  it  were  pour  out  your 
personality'  towards  it :  let  your  soul  be  in  your  eyes.  Almost 
at  once,  this  new  method  of  perception  will  reveal  unsuspected 
qualities  in  the  external  world.  First,  you  will  perceive  about 
you  a  strange  and  deepening  quietness.  Next,  you  will  become 
aware  of  a  heightened  significance,  an  intensified  existence  in 
the  thing  at  which  you  look.  As  you,  with  all  your  conscious- 
ness, lean  out  towards  it,  an  answering  current  will  meet  yours. 
It  seems  as  though  the  barrier  between  its  life  and  your  own, 
between  subject  and  object,  had  melted  away.  You  are 
merged  with  it,  in  an  act  of  true  communion  :  and  you  know 
the  secret  of  its  being  deeply  and  unforgettably,  yet  in  a  way 
which  you  can  never  hope  to  express. 

Seen  thus,  a  thistle  has  celestial  qualities  :  a  speckled  hen  a 
touch  of  the  sublime.  Our  greater  comrades,  the  trees,  the 
clouds,  the  rivers,  initiate  us  into  mighty  secrets,  flame  out  at 
us  "  like  shining  from  shook  foil."  The  "  eye  which  looks  upon 
Eternity "  has  been  given  its  opportunity.  We  have  been 
immersed  for  a  moment  in  the  "  life  of  the  All "  :  a  deep  and 
peaceful  love  unites  us  with  the  substance  of  all  things  :  a 
"  Mystic  Marriage "  has  taken  place  between  the  mind  and 
some  aspect  of  the  external  world.  Cor  ad  cor  loquitur-.  Life 
has  spoken  to  life,  but  not  to  the  surface-intelligence.  That 
surface-intelligence  knows  only  that  the  message  was  true  and 
beautiful :  no  more. 

The  price  of  this  experience  has  been  a  stilling  of  that 
surface-mind,  a  calling  in  of  all  our  scattered  interests  :  an 
entire  giving  of  ourselves  to  this  one  activity,  without  self-con- 
sciousness, without  reflective  thought.  Not  mere  mental  con- 
centration, but  total  self-donation,  is  its  secret.  The  contem- 
plative is  contented  to  absorb  and  be  absorbed  :  and  by  this 
humble  access  he  attains  to  a  plane  of  true  communion  which 
no  intellectual  process  can  come  near. 

1  "  Revelations  of  Divine  Love,"  cap.  v. 


362  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

Now  this  simple  experiment  exercises  on  a  small  scale,  and 
in  regard  to  visible  Nature,  the  faculty  by  which  the  mystic 
apprehends  Invisible  Reality — enters  into  communion  with  the 
Absolute.  It  is  one  thing,  of  course,  to  see  truthfully  for  an 
instant  the  flower  in  the  crannied  wall :  another,  to  bear  the  full 
blaze  of  "eternal  Truth,  true  Love  and  loved  Eternity."  Yet 
both  according  to  their  measure  are  functions  of  the  inward 
eye  operating  in  the  "  suspension  of  the  mind." 

This  humble  receptiveness,  this  still  and  steady  gazing,  in 
which  emotion,  will,  and  thought  are  lost  and  fused,  is  the 
secret  of  the  great  contemplative  on  fire  with  love  of  that  which 
he  has  been  allowed  to  see.  But  whilst  the  contemplation  of 
Nature  entails  an  outgoing  towards  somewhat  indubitably 
external  to  us  :  the  contemplation  of  spirit,  as  it  seems  to  those 
who  practise  it,  more  often  entails  an  ingoing  or  "  introversion  " 
of  our  faculties;  a  "journey  towards  the  centre."  The  King- 
dom of  God,  they  say,  is  within  you:  seek  it,  then,  in  the 
most  secret  habitations  of  the  soul. 

The  mystic,  then,  must  learn  so  to  concentrate  all  his 
faculties,  his  very  self,  upon  the  invisible  and  intangible,  that 
all  visible  things  are  forgot :  to  bring  it  so  sharply  into  focus 
that  everything  else  is  blurred.  He  must  call  in  his  scattered 
faculties  by  a  deliberate  exercise  of  the  will,  empty  his  mind  of 
its  swarm  of  images,  its  riot  of  thought.  In  mystical  language 
he  must  "  sink  into  his  nothingness " :  into  that  blank  abiding 
place  where  busy,  clever  Reason  cannot  come.  The  whole  of 
this  process,  this  gathering  up  and  turning  "  inwards "  of  the 
powers  of  the  self,  this  gazing  into  the  ground  of  the  soul,  is 
that  which  is  called  Introversion. 

Introversion  is  an  art  which  can  be  acquired,  as  gradually 
and  as  certainly,  by  the  born  mystic,  as  the  art  of  piano-playing 
can  be  acquired  by  the  born  musician.  In  both  cases  it  is  the 
genius  of  the  artist  which  makes  his  use  of  the  instrument 
effective  :  but  it  is  also  his  education  in  the  use  of  the  instrument 
which  enables  that  genius  to  express  itself  in  an  adequate  way. 
Such  mystical  education,  of  course,  presumes  a  something  that 
can  be  educated :  the  "  New  Birth,"  the  awakening  of  the 
deeper  self,  must  have  taken  place  before  it  can  begin.  It  is 
a  psychological  process,  and  obeys  psychological  laws :  there  is 
in  it  no  element  of  the  unexpected  or  the  supernatural. 


INTROVERSION:   RECOLLECTION  AND  QUIET    363 

In  its  early  stages  the  practice  of  introversion  is  voluntary, 
difficult,  and  deliberate  ;  as  are  the  early  stages  of  learning  to 
read  or  write.  But  as  reading  or  writing  finally  becomes  auto- 
matic, so  as  the  mystic's  training  in  introversion  proceeds, 
habits  are  formed  :  and  those  contemplative  powers  which  he  is 
educating  establish  themselves  amongst  his  normal  faculties. 
Sometimes  they  wholly  dominate  these  faculties,  escape  the 
control  of  the  will,  and  appear  spontaneously;  seizing  upon  the 
conscious  field.  Such  violent  and  involuntary  invasions  of 
the  transcendental  powers,  when  they  utterly  swamp  the  surface- 
consciousness  and  the  subject  is  therefore  cut  off  from  his 
ordinary  "  external  world,"  constitute  the  typical  experience  of 
rapture  or  ecstasy.  It  is  under  the  expansive  formulas  of  such 
abrupt  ecstatic  perception,  u  not  by  gradual  steps,  but  by  sudden 
ecstatic  flights  soaring  aloft  to  the  glorious  things  on  high,"1 
that  the  mystical  consciousness  of  Divine  Transcendence  is 
most  clearly  expressed.  Those  wide,  exalted  apprehensions  of 
the  Godhead  which  we  owe  to  the  mystics  have  been  obtained, 
not  by  industrious  meditation,  but  by  "a  transcending  of  all 
creatures,  a  perfect  going  forth  from  oneself :  by  standing  in  an 
ecstasy  of  mind."2  Hence  the  experiences  peculiar  to  these 
ecstatic  states  have  a  great  value  for  the  student  of  mystical 
science.  It  will  be  our  duty  to  consider  them  in  some  detail  in 
a  later  section  of  this  book. 

The  normal  and  deliberate  practice  of  introversion,  on  the 
contrary,  is  tightly  bound  up  with  the  sense  of  Divine  Imma- 
nence. Its  emphasis  is  on  the  indwelling  God  Who  may  be 
found  "  by  a  journey  towards  the  centre "  :  on  the  conviction 
indeed  that "  angels  and  archangels  are  with  us,  but  He  is  more 
truly  our  own  who  is  not  only  with  us  but  in  us."  3 

Contemplation — taking  that  term  in  its  widest  sense,  as 
embracing  the  whole  mystic  art — establishes  communion  be- 
tween the  soul  and  the  Absolute  by  way  of  these  two  comple- 
mentary modes  of  apprehending  that  which  is  One :  A.  The 
usually  uncontrollable,  definitely  outgoing,  ecstatic  experience, 
the   attainment    of   Pure  Being,  or    u  flight   to    God."    B.  The 

*  St.  Bernard,  "  De  Consideratione, "  bk.  v.  cap,  iii. 
■  •'  De  Imitatione  Christi,"  1.  iii.  cap.  xxxi. 

3  St.  Bernard,  op.  cit.y  bk.  v.  cap.  v.     So  Lady  Julian,  "We  are  all  in  Him  en- 
closed and  He  is  enclosed  in  us  "  ("  Revelations  of  Divine  Love,"  cap.  lvii.). 


364  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

more  controllable  ingoing  experience,  the  breaking  down  of  the 
barrier  between  the  surface-self  and  those  deeper  levels  of 
personality  where  God  is  met  and  known  "  in  our  nothingness," 
and  a  mysterious  fusion  of  divine  and  human  life  takes  place. 
The  one,  says  the  Christian  mystic,  is  the  "  going  forth  to  the 
Father  "  ;  the  other  is  the  "  marriage  with  the  Son."  Both  are 
operated  by  the  Indwelling  Spirit,  the  "  spark  of  the  soul."  Yet 
it  is  probable,  in  spite  of  the  spatial  language  which  the  mystics 
always  use  concerning  them,  that  these  two  experiences,  in 
their  most  sublime  forms,  are  but  opposite  aspects  of  one  whole  : 
the  complementary  terms  of  a  higher  synthesis  beyond  our  span. 
In  that  consummation  of  love  which  Ruysbroeck  has  called 
"the  peace  of  the  summits"  they  meet:  then  distinctions 
between  inward  and  outward,  near  and  far,  cease  to  have  any 
meaning,  in  "the  dim  silence  where  lovers  lose  themselves." 
"To  mount  to  God,"  says  a  tract  attributed  to  Albert  the 
Great,  "  is  to  enter  into  one's  self.  For  he  who  inwardly 
entereth  and  intimately  penetrateth  into  himself,  gets  above 
and  beyond  himself  and  truly  mounts  up  to  God."1 

Says  Tauler  of  this  ineffable  meeting-place,  which  is  to  the 
intellect  an  emptiness,  and  to  the  heart  a  fulfilment  of  all  desire, 
"  All  there  is  so  still  and  mysterious  and  so  desolate :  for  there 
is  nothing  there  but  God  only,  and  nothing  strange.  .  .  .  This 
Wilderness  is  the  Quiet  Desert  of  the  Godhead,  into  which  He 
leads  all  who  are  to  receive  this  inspiration  of  God,  now  or  in 
Eternity."  2  From  this  "  quiet  desert,"  this  still  plane  of  being, 
so  near  to  her  though  she  is  far  from  it,  the  normal  self  is 
separated  by  all  the  "  unquiet  desert "  of  sensual  existence. 
Yet  it  stretches  through  and  in  her,  the  stuff  of  Reality,  the 
very  Ground  of  her  being,  since  it  is,  in  Julian's  words,  "  the 
Substance  of  all  that  is "  :  linking  that  being  at  once  with 
the  universe  and  with  God.^  "God  is  near  us,  but  we  are  far 
from  Him,  God  is  within,  we  are  without,  God  is  at  home,  we 
are  in  the  far  country,"  said  Meister  Eckhart,  struggling  to 
express  the  nature  of  this  "  intelligible  where."  3  Clearly,  if  the 
self  is  ever  to  become  aware  of  it,  definite  work  must  be  under- 
taken, definite  powers  of  perception   must  be  trained :  and  the 

x  "De  Adhaerando  Deo,"  cap.  vii. 

2  Third  Instruction  ("The  Inner  Way,"  p.  323). 

3  Eckhart,  Pred.  lxix. 


INTROVERSION:   RECOLLECTION   AND   QUIET    365 

consciousness  which  has  been  evolved  to  meet  the  exigencies 
of  the  World  of  Becoming  must  be  initiated  into  that  World  of 
Being  from  which  it  came  forth. 

Plato  long  ago  defined  the  necessity  of  such  a  perception, 
and  the  nature  of  that  art  of  contemplation  by  which  the  soul 
can  feed  upon  the  Real,  when  he  said  in  one  of  his  most  purely 
mystical  passages,  "  When  the  soul  returns  into  itself  and  reflects, 
it  passes  into  .  .  .  the  region  of  that  which  is  pure  and  ever- 
lasting, immortal  and  unchangeable  :  and,  feeling  itself  kindred 
thereto,  it  dwells  there  under  its  own  control,  and  has  rest  from 
its  wanderings."  *  The  "  contemplation  "  of  Plato  and  of  the 
Platonic  Schools  generally,  however,  is  a  purely  intellectual 
activity  :  with  him  the  head  and  not  the  heart  is  the  meeting- 
place  between  man  and  the  Real.  "  Anciently,"  says  Augustine 
Baker,  "  there  was  a  certain  kind  of  false  contemplation,  which 
we  may  call  philosophical,  practised  by  some  learned  heathens 
of  old,  and  imitated  by  some  in  these  days,  which  hath  for  its 
last  and  best  end  only  the  perfection  of  knowledge  and  a 
delightful  complacency  in  it.  .  .  .  To  this  rank  of  philosophical 
contemplations  may  be  referred  those  scholastic  wits  which 
spend  much  time  in  the  study  and  subtle  examination  of  the 
mysteries  of  faith,  and  have  not  for  their  end  the  increasing 
of  divine  love  in  their  hearts."  2 

We  cannot  long  read  the  works  of  the  mystics  without 
coming  across  descriptions — often  first-hand  descriptions  of 
great  psychological  interest — of  the  processes  through  which 
the  self  must  pass,  the  discipline  which  it  must  undertake,  in 
the  course  of  acquiring  the  art  of  contemplation.  Most  of  these 
descriptions  differ  as  to  detail  ;  as  to  the  divisions  adopted,  the 
emotions  experienced,  the  number  of  "  degrees  "  through  which 
the  subject  passes,  from  the  first  painful  attempt  to  gather  up 
its  faculties  to  the  supreme  point  at  which  it  feels  itself  to  be 
"lost  in  God."  In  each  there  is  that  quality  of  uniqueness 
which  is  inherent  in  every  expression  of  life  :  in  each  the 
temperamental  bias  and  analytical  powers  of  the  writer  have 
exerted  a  further  modifying  influence.  All,  however,  describe 
a  connected  experience,  the  progressive  concentration  of  the 
entire  self  under  the  spur  of  love  upon  the  contemplation  of 
transcendental  reality.     As  the  Mystic  Way  involves  transcen- 

1  Phaedo,  79  c.  2  "  Holy  Wisdom,"  Treatise  iii.  §  iv.  cap.  i. 


366  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

dence  of  character,  the  movement  of  the  whole  man  to  higher 
levels  of  vitality,  his  attainment  of  freedom ;  so  the  ascent  of 
the  ladder  of  contemplation  involves  such  a  transcendence,  or 
movement  to  high  levels  of  liberty,  of  his  perceptive  powers. 

The  steps  of  the  ladder,  the  substance  of  the  progressive 
exercises  undertaken  by  the  developing  self,  its  education  in 
the  art  of  contemplation,  are  called,  in  technical  terms,  the 
"  degrees  of  orison "  ;  or  sometimes,  by  an  unfortunate  con- 
fusion of  the  English  language,  the  "degrees  of  prayer." 
"  Prayer,"  as  understood  of  the  multitude,  with  all  its  implica- 
tions of  conventional  piety,  formality,  detailed  petition — a 
definite  something  asked  for,  and  a  definite  duty  done,  by  means 
of  extemporary  or  traditional  allocutions  addressed  to  the  anthro- 
pomorphic Deity  of  popular  religion — is  far  from  suggesting 
the  nature  of  those  supersensual  activities  which  the  mystics 
mean  to  express  in  their  use  of  this  term. 

"  Orison  "  has  nothing  in  common  with  petition.  It  is  not 
articulate  ;  it  has  no  forms.  "It  is,"  says  the  "  Mirror  of  St. 
Edmund,"  "  naught  else  but  yearning  of  soul."1  On  the  psycho- 
logical side  it  is  a  steady  discipline  imposed  upon  the  mystic's 
rich  subliminal  mind,  a  slow  preparation  of  the  channels  in 
which  that  deeper  consciousness  is  to  flow  :  a  reducing  to  some 
sort  of  order,  a  making  effective  for  life,  of  those  involuntary 
states  of  passivity,  rapture,  and  intuition  which  are  the 
characteristic  ways  in  which  an  uncontrolled,  uncultivated 
genius  for  the  Absolute  breaks  out.  To  the  subject  himself, 
however,  it  seems  rather  a  free  and  mutual  act  of  love,  a 
strange  splendid  "supernatural"  intercourse  between  the  soul 
and  the  divine,  or  some  aspect  of  the  divine  :  a  wordless  "  con- 
versation in  Heaven."2  In  some  of  its  degrees  it  is  a  placid, 
trustful  waiting  upon  messages  from  without.  In  others,  it  is 
an  inarticulate  communion,  a  wordless  rapture,  a  silent  gazing 
upon  God.     The  mystics  have  exhausted  all  the  resources  of  all 

1  Cap.  xvii. 

2  "  I  discover  all  truths  in  the  interior  of  my  soul,"  says  Antoinette  Bourignan, 
"  especially  when  I  am  recollected  in  my  solitude  in  a  forgetfulness  of  all  Things. 
Then  my  spirit  communicates  with  Another  Spirit,  and  they  entertain  one  another  as 
two  friends  who  converse  about  serious  matters.  And  this  conversation  is  so  sweet 
that  I  have  sometimes  passed  a  whole  day  and  a  night  in  it  without  interruption 
or  standing  in  need  of  meat  or  drink"  (MacEwen,  "Antoinette  Bourignan,  Quietist," 
p.  109). 


INTROVERSION:   RECOLLECTION  AND  QUIET    367 

tongues  in  their  efforts  to  tell  us  of  the  rewards  which  await 
those  who  will  undertake  this  most  sublime  and  difficult 
of  arts. 

As  we  come  to  know  our  friends  better  by  having  inter- 
course with  them,  so  by  this  deliberate  intercourse  the  self 
enters  more  and  more  deeply  into  the  Heart  of  Reality. 
Climbing  like  Dante  step  by  step  up  the  ladder  of  contempla- 
tion, it  comes  at  last  to  the  Empyrean,  "  ivi  e  perfetta,  matura 
ed  intera  ciascuna  disianza."  x  "  Journeys  end  in  lovers  meet- 
ing." The  true  end  of  orison,  like  the  true  end  of  that 
mysticism  which  it  cultivates,  is  the  supreme  meeting  between 
Lover  and  Beloved,  between  God  and  the  soul.  Its  method 
is  the  method  of  the  mystic  life,  transcendence  :  a  gradual 
approximation  of  the  contemplative  self  to  reality  :  the  pro* 
duction  within  it  of  those  conditions  in  which  union  can  take 
place.  This  entails  a  concentration,  a  turning  inwards,  of  all 
those  faculties  which  the  normal  self  has  been  accustomed  to 
turn  outwards,  and  fritter  upon  the  manifold  illusions  of  daily 
life.  It  means,  during  the  hours  of  introversion,  a  retreat  from 
and  refusal  of  the  Many,  in  order  that  the  mind  may  be  able  to 
apprehend  the  One.  "  Behold,"  says  Boehme,  "  if  thou  desirest 
to  see  God's  Light  in  thy  Soul,  and  be  divinely  illuminated  and 
conducted,  this  is  the  short  way  that  thou  art  to  take  ;  not 
to  let  the  Eye  of  thy  Spirit  enter  into  Matter  or  fill  itself  with 
any  Thing  whatever,  either  in  Heaven  or  Earth,  but  to  let 
it  enter  by  a  naked  faith  into  the  Light  of  the  Majesty."  2 

"  What  this  opening  of  the  spiritual  eye  is,"  says  Hilton, 
"  the  greatest  scholar  on  earth  cannot  imagine  by  his  wit,  nor 
show  fully  by  his  tongue  ;  for  it  cannot  be  gotten  by  study,  nor 
by  man's  industry  alone,  but  principally  by  grace  of  the  Holy 
Ghost  and  with  human  industry.  I  am  afraid  to  speak  any- 
thing of  it,  for  methinketh  that  I  cannot,  it  passeth  my  assay, 
and  my  lips  are  unclean.  Nevertheless,  because  it  seems  to  me 
that  love  asketh,  yea,  love  biddeth  that  I  should,  therefore  shall 
I  say  a  little  more  of  it,  as  I  hope  love  teacheth.  This  opening 
of  the  spiritual  eye  is  that  lightsome  darkness  and  rich  nought 
that  I  spake  of  before,  and  it  may  be  called  purity  of  spirit  and 
spiritual  rest,  inward  stillness  and  peace  of  conscience,  highness 
of  thought  and  loneliness  of  soul,  a  lively  feeling  of  grace  and 

1  Par.  xxii.  64.  2  "  Dialogues  of  the  Supersensual  Life,"  p.  66. 


368  AN  INTRODUCTION   TO   MYSTICISM 

privity  of  heart,  the  watchful  sleep  of  the  spouse  and  tasting  of 
heavenly  savour,  burning  in  love  and  shining  in  light,  the  entry 
of  Contemplation  and  reforming  in  feeling  .  .  .  these  be  divers 
in  show  of  words,  yet  are  they  all  one  in  meaning  and  verity."  x 

"  Human  industry,"  says  Hilton  here,  must  be  joined  to 
"  grace."  If  the  spiritual  eye  is  to  be  opened  work  must  be 
done.  So  long  as  the  eye  which  looks  upon  Time  "  fills  itself 
with  things "  and  usurps  the  conscious  field,  that  spiritual 
eye  which  "  looks  upon  Eternity "  can  hardly  act  at  all  :  and 
this  eye  must  not  only  be  opened,  it  must  be  trained,  so  that  it 
may  endure  to  gaze  steadfastly  at  the  Uncreated  Light.  This 
training  and  purging  of  the  transcendental  sight  is  described 
under  many  images  ;  "  diverse  in  show  of  words,  one  in  mean- 
ing and  verity."  Its  essence  is  a  progressive  cleansing  of  the 
mirror,  a  progressive  self-emptying  of  all  that  is  not  real,  the 
attainment  of  that  unified  state  of  consciousness  which  will 
permit  a  pure,  imageless  apprehension  of  the  final  Reality 
which  "  hath  no  image "  to  be  received  by  the  self.  "  Naked 
orison,"  "  emptiness,"  "  nothingness,"  "  entire  surrender,"  "  peace- 
ful love  in  life  naughted,"  say  the  mystics  again  and  again. 
Where  apprehension  of  the  divine  comes  by  way  of  vision 
or  audition,  this  is  but  a  concession  to  human  weakness  ;  a 
sign,  they  think,  that  the  senses  are  not  quite  killed.  It  is 
a  translation  of  the  true  tongue  of  angels  into  a  dialect  that 
they  can  understand.  A  steady  abolition  of  sense  imagery,  a 
cutting  off  of  all  possible  sources  of  illusion,  all  possible 
encouragements  of  selfhood  and  pride— the  most  fertile  of  all 
sources  of  deception — this  is  the  condition  of  pure  sight  ;  and 
the  "  degrees  of  orison,"  the  "  steep  stairs  of  love "  which  they 
climb  so  painfully,  are  based  upon  this  necessity. 

Now  the  terms  used  by  individual  mystics,  the  divisions 
which  they  adopt  in  describing  the  self's  progress  in  this  art  of 
orison,  are  bewildering  in  their  variety.  Here,  more  than 
elsewhere,  has  the  mania  for  classification  obsessed  them. 
We  find,  too,  when  we  come  to  compare  them  one  with 
another,  that  the  language  which  they  employ  is  not  always 
so  exact  as  it  seems  :  that  they  do  not  all  use  the  traditional 
terms  in  the  same  sense.  Sometimes  by  the  word  "  contempla- 
tion"   they   intend   to   describe   the   whole   process  of    intro- 

1  Hilton,  "The  Scale  of  Perfection,"  bk.  iii.  cap.  x. 


INTROVERSION:   RECOLLECTION  AND   QUIET    369 

version  :  sometimes  they  reserve  it  for  the  "  orison  of  union," 
sometimes  identify  it  with  ecstasy.  It  has  been  pointed  out 
by  Delacroix  that  even  St.  Teresa's  classification  of  her  own 
states  is  far  from  lucid,  and  varies  in  each  of  her  principal 
works.1  Thus  in  the  "  Life  "  she  appears  to  treat  Recollection 
and  Quiet  as  synonymous,  whilst  in  "  The  Way  of  Perfection  " 
these  conditions  are  sharply  differentiated.  In  "  The  Interior 
Castle "  she  adopts  an  entirely  different  system  ;  the  orison  of 
quiet  being  there  called  "  tasting  of  God."  2  Finally,  Augustine 
Baker,  in  treating  of  the  "  Prayer  of  Interior  Silence  and  Quiet," 
insists  that  by  the  term  "  Quiet"  St.  Teresa  did  not  mean  this  at 
all,  but  a  form  of  "  supernatural  contemplation."  3 

Thus  we  are  gradually  forced  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
so-called  "  degrees  of  orison  "  so  neatly  tabulated  by  ascetic 
writers  are  largely  artificial  and  symbolic :  that  the  process 
which  they  profess  to  describe  is  really,  like  life  itself,  one  and 
continuous — not  a  stairway  but  a  slope — and  the  parts  into 
which  they  break  it  up  are  diagrammatic.  Nearly  every  mystic 
makes  these  breaks  in  a  different  place,  though  continuing  to 
use  the  language  of  his  predecessors.  In  his  efforts  towards  self- 
analysis  he  divides  and  subdivides,  combines  and  differentiates 
his  individual  moods.  Hence  the  confusion  of  mind  which  falls 
upon  those  who  try  to  harmonize  different  systems  of  contempla- 
tion :  to  identify  St.  Teresa's  "  Four  Degrees  "  4  with  Hugh  of 
St.  Victor's  other  four,  5  and  with  Richard  of  St.  Victor's  "  four 
steps  of  ardent  love  "  : 6  or  to  accommodate  upon  this  diagram 
Hilton's  simple  and  poetic  "  three  steps  of  contemplation  "  7 — 
Knowing ;  Loving ;  and  Knowing  and  Loving — where  the 
dreamer  rather  than  the  map-maker  speaks.  Such  fine  shades, 
says  Augustine  Baker  in  this  connexion,  are  "nicely  dis- 
tinguished "  by  the  author  "  rather  out  of  a  particular  experience 

1  "  Etudes  sur  le  Mysticisme,"  p.  18. 

2  Vida,  cap.  xiv. ;  "  Camino  de  Perfeccion,"  cap.  xxxi.  ;   "  El  Castillo  Interior," 
Moradas  Cuartas,  cap.  ii. 

3  "  Holy  Wisdom,"  Treatise  iii.  §  ii.  cap.  vii. 

4  Meditation,  Quiet,  a  nameless  "intermediate  "  degree,  and  the  Orison  of  Union 
(Vida,  cap.  xi.). 

s  Meditation,   Soliloquy,    Consideration,    Rapture   (Hugh    of    St.    Victor,    "De 
Contemplatione  "). 

6  "  De  Quatuor  Gradibus  Violentae  Charitatis."      Vide  supra,  p.  165. 

7  "  The  Scale  of  Perfection,"  bk.  i.  caps.  iv.  to  viii. 
BB 


370  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

of  the  effects  passing  in  his  own  soul,  which  perhaps  are  not  the 
same  in  all  "  than  for  any  more  general  reason. x 

Some  diagram,  however,  some  set  scheme,  the  writer  on 
introversion  must  have,  if  he  is  to  describe  with  lucidity  the 
development  of  the  contemplative  consciousness  :  and  so  long 
as  the  methodological  nature  of  this  diagram  is  kept  in  mind, 
there  can  be  little  objection  to  the  use  of  it.  I  propose  then 
to  examine  under  three  divisions  that  continuous  and  orderly 
stream  of  experience,  that  process  of  incessant  change,  by  which 
the  mystical  consciousness  is  turned  from  visible  to  invisible 
things.  We  will  give  to  these  three  divisions  names  which  will 
be  familiar  to  all  readers  of  ascetic  literature :  Recollection, 
Quiet,  and  Contemplation.  Each  of  these  three  parts  of  the 
introversive  experience  may  be  discerned  in  embryo  in  that  little 
experiment  at  which  the  reader  has  been  invited  to  assist :  the 
act  of  concentration,  the  silence,  the  new  perception  which 
results.  Each  has  a  characteristic  beginning  which  links  it  with 
its  predecessor,  and  a  characteristic  end  which  shades  off  into 
the  next  state.  Thus  Recollection  begins  in  Meditation  and 
develops  into  the  "  Orison  of  Inward  Silence,"  which  again  melts 
into  the  true  "  Quiet."  "  Quiet "  as  it  becomes  deeper  passes 
into  Infused  Contemplation  :  and  this  grows  through  Contem- 
plation proper  to  that  Orison  of  Passive  Union  which  is  the 
highest  of  the  non-ecstatic  introversive  states.  Merely  to  state 
the  fact  thus  is  to  remind  ourselves  how  smoothly  continuous  is 
this  life-process  of  the  soul. 

It  is  the  object  of  orison,  as  it  is  the  object  of  all  education, 
to  discipline  and  develop  certain  growing  faculties.  In  this  case, 
the  faculties  are  those  of  the  "  transcendental  self,"  the  "  new 
man  " — all  those  powers  which  we  associate  with  the  "  spiritual 
consciousness."  The  "  Sons  of  God,"  however,  like  the  sons  of 
men,  begin  as  babies ;  and  their  first  lessons  must  not  be 
too  hard.  Therefore  the  educative  process  conforms  to  and 
takes  advantage  of  every  step  of  the  natural  process  of  growth  : 
as  we,  in  the  education  of  our  children,  make  the  natural  order 
in  which  their  faculties  develop  the  basis  of  our  scheme  of  culti- 
vation. Recollection,  Quiet,  and  Contemplation,  then,  answer 
to  the  order  in  which  the  mystic's  powers  unfold.  Roughly 
speaking,  we  shall  find  that  the  form  of  spiritual  attention  which 

1  "  Holy  Wisdom,"  loc.  cit.t  §  ii.  cap.  i. 


INTROVERSION:   RECOLLECTION   AND   QUIET    371 

is  called  "  Meditative "  or  "  Recollective  "  goes  side  by  side 
with  the  Purification  of  the  Self ;  that  "  Quiet "  tends  to  be 
characteristic  of  Illumination  :  that  Contemplation — at  any  rate 
in  its  higher  forms — is  most  constantly  experienced  by  those 
who  have  attained,  or  nearly  attained,  the  Unitive  Way.  At  the 
same  time,  just  as  the  self  in  its  "  first  mystic  life "  before 
it  has  passed  through  the  dark  night  of  the  will,  often  seems  to 
run  through  the  whole  gamut  of  spiritual  states,  and  attain  that 
oneness  with  the  Absolute  which  it  seeks — though  as  a  fact  it 
has  not  yet  reached  those  higher  levels  of  consciousness  on 
which  true  and  permanent  union  takes  place — so  too  in  its 
orison.  At  any  point  in  its  career  it  may  experience  for  brief 
periods  that  imageless  and  overpowering  sense  of  identity  with 
the  Absolute  Life — that  loving  and  exalted  absorption  in 
God — which  is  called  "  passive  union  "  and  anticipates  the  con- 
sciousness which  is  characteristic  of  the  deified  life.  Over  and 
over  again  in  its  "  prayerful  process  "  it  recapitulates  in  little 
the  whole  great  process  of  its  life.  It  runs  up  for  an  instant  to 
levels  where  it  is  not  yet  strong  enough  to  dwell.  Therefore  we 
must  not  be  too  strict  in  our  identification  of  the  grades  of  edu- 
cation with  the  stages  of  growth. 

This  education,  rightly  understood,  is  pne  coherent  process  : 
it  consists  in  a  steady  and  voluntary  surrender  of  the  awakened 
consciousness,  its  feeling,  thought,  and  will,  to  the  play  of  those 
transcendental  influences,  that  inflowing  vitality,  which  it  con- 
ceives of  as  divine.  In  the  preparative  process  of  Recollec- 
tion, the  unruly  mind  is  brought  into  harmony.  In  M  Quiet  " 
the  eager  will  is  silenced,  the  "  wheel  of  imagination  "  is 
stilled.  In  Contemplation,  the  heart  at  last  comes  to  its  own — 
Cor  ad  cor  loquitur.  In  their  -  simplest,  crudest  forms,  these- 
three  acts  are  the  deliberate  concentration  upon,  the  meek 
resting  in,  the  joyous  communing  with,  the  ineffable  Object 
of  man's  quest.  They  involve  a  progressive  concentration  of  the 
mystic's  powers,  a  gradual  handing  over  of  the  reins  from 
the  surface  intelligence  to  the  deeper  mind,  a  progressive 
reception  of  the  inflowing  Spirit  of  God.  In  Recollection 
the  surface-mind  still  holds,  so  to  speak,  the  leading  strings : 
but  in  "  Quiet "  it  surrenders  them  wholly,  allowing  conscious- 
ness to  sink  into  that  "blissful  silence  in  which  God  works 
and   speaks."      This   act   of   surrender,   this   deliberate    nega- 


372  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

tion  of  thought,  is  an  essential  preliminary  of  the  contemplative 
state.  "  Lovers  put  out  the  candles  and  draw  the  curtains  when 
they  wish  to  see  the  god  and  the  goddess ;  and  in  the  higher 
communion  the  night  of  thought  is  the  light  of  perception."1 

The  education  of  the  self  in  the  different  degrees  of  orison 
has  been  compared  by  St.  Teresa,  in  a  celebrated  *  passage  in 
her  Life,  to  four  ways  of  watering  the  garden  of  the  soul  so 
that  it  may  bring  forth  its  flowers  and  fruits.  2  The  first  and 
most  primitive  of  these  ways  is  meditation.  This,  she  says,  is 
like  drawing  water  by  hand  from  a  deep  well :  the  slowest  and 
most  laborious  of  all  means  of  irrigation.  Next  to  this  is 
the  orison  of  quiet,  which  is  a  little  better  and  easier  :  for  here 
soul  seems  to  receive  some  help,  i.e.,  with  the  stilling  of  the  senses 
the  subliminal  faculties  are  brought  into  play.  The  well  has 
now  been  fitted  with  a  windlass — that  little  Moorish  water-wheel 
possessed  by  every  Castilian  farm.  Hence  we  get  more  water 
for  the  energy  we  expend  :  more  sense  of  reality  in  exchange 
for  our  abstraction  from  the  unreal.  Also  "  the  water  is  higher, 
and  accordingly  the  labour  is  much  less  than  it  was  when  the 
water  had  to  be  drawn  out  of  the  depths  of  the  well.  I 
mean  that  the  water  is  nearer  to  it,  for  grace  now  reveals  itself 
more  distinctly  to  the  soul."  In  the  third  stage  we  leave  all 
voluntary  activities  of  the  mind  :  the  gardener  no  longer  depends 
on  his  own  exertions,  contact  between  subject  and  object  is 
established,  there  is  no  more  stress  and  strain.  It  is  as  if  a  little 
river  now  ran  through  our  garden  and  watered  it.  We  have  but 
to  direct  the  stream.  In  the  fourth  and  highest  stage  God 
Himself  waters  our  garden  with  rain  from  heaven  "  drop  by 
drop."  The  attitude  of  the  self  is  now  that  of  perfect 
receptivity,  "  passive  contemplation,"  loving  trust.  Individual 
activity  is  sunk  in  the  "  great  life  of  the  All." 

Now  the  measure  of  the  mystic's  real  progress  is  and  must 
always  be  the  measure  of  his  love  :  for  his  apprehension  is  an 
apprehension  of  the  heart.  His  education,  his  watering  of 
the  garden  of  the  soul,  is  a  cultivation  of  this  one  flower — this 
Rosa  Mystica  which  has  its  root  in  God.  The  degrees  of 
his  orison,  then,  will  be  accompanied  step  by  step  by  those  other 
degrees  of  exalted  feeling-states   which   Richard  of  St.  Victor 

1  Coventry  Patmore,  "The  Rod,  the  Root,  and  the  Flower,"  "  Aurea  Dicta,"  xiii, 
8  Vida,  cap,  ii.  §§  io  and  n. 


INTROVERSION:    RECOLLECTION   AND   QUIET    373 

called  the  Degrees  of  Ardent  Love.  Without  their  presence,  all 
the  drill  in  the  world  will  not  bring  him  to  the  true  contempla- 
tive state,  though  it  may  easily  produce  abnormal  powers 
of  perception  of  the  kind  familiar  to  students  of  the  occult. 

Our  theory  of  mystic  education,  then,  turns  out  to  be  very 
like  our  theory  of  mystic  life.  In  both,  there  is  a  progressive 
surrender  of  selfhood  under  the  steady  advance  of  conquering 
love ;  a  stilling  of  the  "  I,  the  Me,  the  Mine,"  which  is  linked  by 
all  the  senses,  and  by  all  its  own  desires,  to  the  busy  world  of 
visible  things.  This  progressive  surrender  appears  in  the  prac- 
tice of  orison  as  a  progressive  inward  retreat  from  circumference 
to  centre ;  to  that  ground  of  the  soul,  that  substantial  somewhat 
in  man,  deep  buried  for  most  of  us  beneath  the  great  rubbish- 
heap  of  our  surface-interests,  where  human  life  and  divine  life 
meet.  To  clear  away  the  rubbish-heap  so  that  he  may  get 
down  to  this  treasure-house  is  from  one  point  of  view  the  initial 
task  of  the  contemplative.  This  clearing  away  is  the  first  part 
of  "  introversion " :  that  journey  inwards  to  his  own  centre 
where,  stripped  of  all  his  cleverness  and  merit,  reduced  to  his 
"  nothingness,"  he  can  "  meet  God  without  intermediary."  This 
ground  of  the  soul,  this  strange  inward  sanctuary  to  which  the 
normal  man  so  seldom  penetrates,  is,  says  Eckhart,  "imme- 
diately receptive  of  the  Divine  Being,"  and  "  no  one  can  move  it 
but  God  alone."1  There  the  finite  self  encounters  the  Infinite; 
and,  by  a  close  and  loving  communion  with  and  feeding  on  the 
attributes  of  the  Divine  Substance,  is  remade  in  the  interests 
of  the  Absolute  Life.  This  encounter,  the  consummation  ot 
mystical  culture,  is  what  we  mean  by  contemplation  in  its 
highest  form.  Here  we  are  on  the  verge  of  that  great  self- 
merging  act  which  is  of  the  essence  of  pure  love  :  which  Reality 
has  sought  of  us,  and  we  have  unknowingly  desired  of  It. 
Here  contemplation  and  union  are  one.  "  Thus  do  we  grow," 
says  Ruysbroeck,  "  and,  carried  above  ourselves,  above  reason, 
into  the  very  heart  of  love,  there  do  we  feed  according  to  the 
spirit ;  and  taking  flight  for  the  Godhead  by  naked  love,  we  go 
to  the  encounter  of  the  Bridegroom,  to  the  encounter  of  His 
Spirit,  which  is  His  love ;  and  this  immense  love  burns  and  con- 
sumes us  in  the  spirit,  and  draws  us  into  that  union  where  bliss 
awaits  us."  2 

1  Pred.  i.  2  Ruysbroeck,  "  De  Contemplatione  "  (Hello,  p.  153). 


374  AN   INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 


Recollection 

The  beginning  of  the  process  of  introversion,  the  first 
mechanical  act  in  which  the  self  turns  round  towards  the  inward 
path,  will  not  merely  be  the  yielding  to  an  instinct,  the  indul- 
gence of  a  natural  taste  for  reverie  ;  it  will  be  a  voluntary  and 
purposeful  undertaking.  Like  conversion,  it  entails  a  break 
with  the  obvious,  which  must,  of  necessity,  involve  and  affect 
the  whole  normal  consciousness.  It  will  be  evoked  by  the 
mystic's  love,  and  directed  by  his  reason  ;  but  can  only  be 
accomplished  by  the  strenuous  exercise  of  his  will.  These 
preparatory  labours  of  the  contemplative  life — these  first  steps 
upon  the  ladder — are,  says  St.  Teresa,  very  hard,  and  require 
greater  courage  than  all  the  rest.1  All  the  scattered  interests 
of  the  self  have  here  to  be  collected  ;  there  must  be  a  deliberate 
and  unnatural  act  of  attention,  a  deliberate  expelling  of  all  dis- 
cordant images  from  the  consciousness — a  hard  and  ungrateful 
task.  Since,  at  this  point,  the  transcendental  faculties  are  still 
young  and  weak,  the  senses  not  wholly  mortified,  it  needs  a 
stern  determination,  a  "  wilful  choice,"  if  we  are  to  succeed  in 
concentrating  our  attention  upon  the  whispered  messages  from 
within,  undistracted  by  the  loud  voices  which  besiege  us  from 
without. 

"  How,"  says  the  Disciple  to  the  Master  in  one  of  Boehme's 
"  Dialogues,"  "  am  I  to  seek  in  the  Centre  this  Fountain  of 
Light  which  may  enlighten  me  throughout  and  bring  my 
properties  into  perfect  harmony?  I  am  in  Nature,  as  I  said 
before,  and  which  way  shall  I  pass  through  Nature  and  the 
light  thereof,  so  that  I  may  come  into  the  supernatural  and 
supersensual  ground  whence  this  true  Light,  which  is  the  Light 
of  Minds,  doth  arise ;  and  this  without  the  destruction  of  my 
nature,  or  quenching  the  Light  of  it,  which  is  my  reason? 

"Master.  Cease  but  from  thine  own  activity,  steadfastly 
fixing  thine  Eye  upon  one  Point.  .  .  .  For  this  end,  gather  in 
all  thy  thoughts,  and  by  faith  press  into  the  Centre,  laying  hold 
upon  the  Word  of  God,  which  is  infallible  and  which  hath  called 
thee.  Be  thou  obedient  to  this  call,  and  be  silent  before  the 
Lord,  sitting  alone  with  Him  in  thy  inmost  and  most  hidden 

1  Vida,  cap.  xi.  §  17. 


INTROVERSION:   RECOLLECTION  AND   QUIET    375 

cell,  thy  mind  being  centrally  united  in  itself,  and  attending  His 
Will  in  the  patience  of  hope.  So  shall  thy  Light  break  forth 
as  the  morning,  and  after  the  redness  thereof  is  passed,  the  Sun 
himself,  which  thou  waitest  for,  shall  arise  unto  thee,  and  under 
his  most  healing  wings  thou  shalt  greatly  rejoice :  ascending 
and  descending  in  his  bright  and  health-giving  beams.  Behold 
this  is  the  true  Supersensual  Ground  of  Life."  z 

In  this  short  paragraph  Boehme  has  caught  and  described 
the  psychological  state  in  which  all  introversion  must  begin : 
the  primary  simplification  of  consciousness — the  steadfast  fixing 
the  soul's  eye  upon  one  point ;  the  turning  inwards  of  the  whole 
conative  powers  for  a  purpose  rather  believed  in  than  known, 
"  by  faith  pressing  into  the  centre." 

The  unfortunate  word  Recollection,  which  the  hasty  reader  is 
apt  to  connect  with  remembrance,  is  the  traditional  term  by 
which  mystical  writers  define  just  such  a  voluntary  concentra- 
tion, such  a  first  collecting  or  gathering  in  of  the  attention  of 
the  self  to  its  "  most  hidden  cell."  That  self  is  as  yet  unac- 
quainted with  the  strange,  changeless,  and  indescribable  plane 
of  silence  which  so  soon  becomes  familiar  to  those  who  attempt 
even  the  lowest  activities  of  the  contemplative  life ;  where  the 
noises  of  the  world  are  never  heard,  and  the  great  adventures 
of  the  spirit  take  place.  It  stands  here  between  two  planes  of 
being  ;  the  Eye  of  Time  is  still  awake.  It  knows  that  it  wants 
to  enter  the  inner  world,  that  "  interior  palace  where  the  King 
of  Kings  is  guest " 2 :  but  it  must  find  some  device  to  help  it 
over  the  threshold — rather,  in  the  language  of  modern  psycho- 
logy, to  shift  that  threshold  and  permit  its  subliminal  intuition 
of  the  Absolute  to  emerge. 

This  device  is  as  a  rule  the  practice  of  meditation,  in  which 
the  state  of  Recollection  usually  begins :  that  is  to  say,  the 
deliberate  consideration  of  and  dwelling  upon  some  one  aspect 
of  Reality — an  aspect  most  usually  chosen  from  amongst  the 
religious  beliefs  of  the  self.  Thus  Hindu  mystics  will  brood 
upon  a  sacred  word,  whilst  Christian  contemplatives  set  before 
their  minds  one  of  the  names  or  attributes  of  God,  a  fragment 
of  Scripture,  an  incident  of  the  life  of  Christ ;  and  allow — 
indeed  encourage — this  consideration,  and  the  ideas  and  feelings 

1  "  Dialogues  of  the  Supersensual  Life,"  p.  56. 

2  St.  Teresa,  "  Camino  de  Perfeccion,"  cap.  xxx. 


376  AN   INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

which  flow  from  it,  to  occupy  the  whole  mental  field.  This 
powerful  suggestion,  kept  before  the  consciousness  by  an  act 
of  will,  overpowers  the  stream  of  small  suggestions  which  the 
outer  world  pours  incessantly  upon  the  mind.  The  self,  con- 
centrated upon  this  image  or  idea,  dwelling  on  it  more  than 
thinking  about  it,  as  one  may  gaze  upon  a  picture  that  one 
loves,  falls  gradually  and  insensibly  into  the  condition  of 
reverie ;  and,  protected  by  this  holy  day-dream  from  the  more 
distracting  dream  of  life,  sinks  into  itself,  and  becomes  in  the 
language  of  asceticism  "  recollected "  or  gathered  together. 
Although  it  is  deliberately  ignoring  the  whole  of  its  usual 
"  external  universe,"  its  faculties  are  wide  awake :  all  have  had 
their  part  in  the  wilful  production  of  this  state  of  consciousness  : 
and  this  it  is  which  marks  off  meditation  and  recollection  from 
the  higher  or  "infused"  degrees  of  orison. 

Such  meditation  as  this,  says  Richard  of  St.  Victor,  is  the 
activity  proper  to  a  mystic  who  has  attained  the  first  degree  of 
ardent  love.  By  it,  "  God  enters  into  the  mind,"  and  "  the  mind 
also  enters  into  itself" ;  and  thus  receives  in  its  inmost  cell  the 
"first  visit  of  the  Beloved."  It  is  a  kind  of  half-way  house 
between  the  perception  of  Appearance  and  the  perception  of 
Reality.  To  one  in  whom  this  state  is  established  consciousness 
seems  like  a  blank  field,  save  for  the  "  one  point "  in  its  centre, 
the  subject  of  the  meditation.  Towards  this  focus  the  intro- 
versive  self  seems  to  press  inwards  from  every  side  ;  still  faintly 
conscious  of  the  buzz  of  the  external  world  outside  its  ramparts, 
but  refusing  to  respond  to  its  appeals.  Presently  the  subject  of 
meditation  begins  to  take  on  a  new  significance ;  to  glow  with 
life  and  light.  The  contemplative  suddenly  feels  that  he  knows 
it,  in  the  complete,  vital,  but  indescribable  way  in  which  one 
knows  a  friend.  More,  that  through  it  hints  are  coming  to  him 
of  mightier,  nameless  things.  It  ceases  to  be  a  picture,  and 
becomes  a  window  through  which,  by  straining  all  his  facul- 
ties, the  mystic  peers  out  into  the  spiritual  universe  and  appre- 
hends to  some  extent — though  how,  he  knows  not — the  veritable 
presence  of  God. " 

In  these  meditative  and  recollective  states,  the  self  still  feels 
very  clearly  the  edge  of  its  own  personality :  its  separateness 
from  the  Somewhat  Other,  the  divine  reality  set  "over  against 
the  soul.     It  is  aware  of  that  reality  :  the  subject  of  its  medita- 


INTROVERSION:   RECOLLECTION  AND   QUIET    377 

tion  becomes  a  symbol  through  which  it  receives  a  distinct 
message  from  the  transcendental  world.  But  there  is  yet  no 
conscious  fusion  with  a  greater  Life ;  no  resting  in  the  divine 
atmosphere  as  in  the  "  Quiet " ;  no  involuntary  and  ecstatic 
lifting  up  of  the  soul  to  direct  apprehension  of  truth,  as  in  con- 
templation. Recollection  is  a  perfectly  definite  psychic  cond^ 
tion,  which  has  perfectly  logical  psychic  results.  Originally 
induced  by  meditation,  or  the  dreamy  pondering  upon  certain 
aspects  of  the  Real,  it  develops,  by  way  of  the  strenuous  control 
exercised  by  the  will  over  the  understanding,  a  power  of  cutting 
the  connexion  between  the  self  and  the  external  world,  and 
retreating  at  will  to  the  inner  world  of  the  spirit. 

"True  recollection,"  says  St.  Teresa,  "has  characteristics 
by  which  it  can  be  easily  recognized.  It  produces  a  certain 
effect  which  I  do  not  know  how  to  explain,  but  which  is  well 
understood  by  those  who  have  experienced  it.  ...  It  is  true 
that  recollection  has  several  degrees,  and  that  in  the  beginning 
these  great  effects  are  not  felt,  because  it  is  not  yet  pro- 
found enough.  But  support  the  pains  which  you  first  feel  in 
recollecting  yourself,  despise  the  rebellion  of  nature,  overcome 
the  resistance  of  the  body,  which  loves  a  liberty  which  is  its 
ruin,  learn  self-conquest,  persevere  thus  for  a  time,  and  you  will 
perceive  very  clearly  the  advantages  which  you  gain  from  it. 
As  soon  as  you  apply  yourself  to  orison,  you  will  at  once  feel 
your  senses  gather  themselves  together :  they  seem  like  bees 
which  return  to  the  hive  and  there  shut  themselves  up  to  work 
at  the  making  of  honey :  and  this  will  take  place  without  effort 
or  care  on  your  part.  God  thus  rewards  the  violence  which 
your  soul  has  been  doing  to  itself;  and  gives  to  it  such  a 
domination  over  the  senses  that  a  sign  is  enough  when  it  desires 
to  recollect  itself,  for  them  to  obey  and  so  gather  themselves 
together.  At  the  first  call  of  the  will,  they  come  back  more  and 
more  quickly.  At  last  after  many  and  many  exercises  of  this 
kind,  God  disposes  them  to  a  state  of  absolute  repose  and  of 
perfect  contemplation."  * 

Such  a  description  as  this  makes  it  clear  that  "recollection" 

is  a  form  of  spiritual  gymnastics ;  less  valuable  for  itself  than 

for  the  training  which  it  gives,  the  powers  which  it  develops. 

In  it,  says  St.  Teresa  again,  the  soul  enters  with  its  God  into 

1  "  Camino  de  Perfection,"  cap.  xxx. 


378  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM       - 

that  Paradise  which  is  within  itself,  and  shuts  the  door  behind 
it  upon  all  the  things  of  the  world.  "  You  should  know,  my 
daughters,"  she  continues,  "  that  this  is  no  supernatural  act,  but 
depends  upon  our  will,  and  that  therefore  we  can  do  it  with  that 
ordinary  assistance  of  God  which  we  need  for  all  our  acts  and 
even  for  our  good  thoughts.  For  here  we  are  not  concerned 
with  the  silence  of  the  faculties,  but  with  a  simple  retreat  of 
these  powers  into  the  ground  of  the  soul.  There  are  various 
ways  of  arriving  at  it,  and  these  ways  are  described  in  different 
books.  There  it  is  said  that  we  must  abstract  the  mind  from 
exterior  things,  in  order  that  we  may  inwardly  approach  God : 
that  even  in  our  work  we  ought  to  retire  within  ourselves, 
though  it  be  only  for  a  moment :  that  this  remembrance  of  a 
God  who  companions  us  within,  is  a  great  help  to  us  ;  finally, 
that  we  ought  little  by  little  to  habituate  ourselves  to  gentle  and 
silent  converse  with  Him,  so  that  He  may  make  us  feel  His 
presence  in  the  soul."  * 

Quiet 

More  important  for  us,  because  more  characteristically 
mystical,  is  the  next  great  stage  of  orison :  that  curious  and 
extremely  definite  mental  state  which  mystics  call  the  Interior 
Silence,  or  "  Orison  of  Quiet."  This  represents  the  results  for 
consciousness  of  a  further  degree  of  that  inward  retreat  which 
Recollection  began. 

Out  of  the  deep,  slow  brooding  and  pondering  on  some 
mystery,  some  incomprehensible  link  between  himself  and  the 
Real,  the  contemplative — perhaps  by  way  of  a  series  of  moods 
which  his  analytic  powers  may  cause  him  "nicely  to  distinguish" 
— glides,  almost  insensibly,  on  to  a  plane  of  perception  for 
which  human  speech  has  few  equivalents.  It  is  a  plane  which 
is  apparently  characterized  by  an  immense  increase  in  the 
receptivity  of  the  self,  and  by  an  almost  complete  suspension 
of  the  reflective  powers.  The  strange  silence  which  is  the 
outstanding  quality  of  this  state — almost  the  only  note  in  regard 
to  it  which  the  surface-intelligence  can  secure — is  not  describable. 
Here,  as  Samuel  Rutherford  said  of  another  of  life's  secrets, 
"  Come  and  see  will  tell  you  much  :  come  nearer  will  say  more." 

1  Op.  at.,  cap.  xxxi. 


INTROVERSION:    RECOLLECTION  AND   QUIET    379 

Here  the  self  has  passed  beyond  the  stage  at  which  its  per- 
ceptions are  capable  of  being  dealt  with  by  thought.  It  cannot 
any  longer  "  take  notes  " :  can  only  surrender  itself  to  the  stream 
of  an  inflowing  life,  and  to  the  direction  of  a  larger  will.  Busy, 
teasing,  utilitarian  thought  would  only  interfere  with  this  process: 
as  it  interferes  with  the  vital  processes  of  the  body  if  it  once 
gets  them  under  its  control.  That  thought,  then,  already 
disciplined  by  Recollection,  gathered  up,  and  forced  to  work  in 
the  interests  of  the  transcendental  mind,  is  now  to  be  entirely 
inhibited. 

As  Recollection  becomes  deeper,  the  self  slides  into  a 
dreamy  consciousness  of  the  Infinite.  The  door  tight  shut  on 
the  sensual  world,  it  becomes  aware  that  it  is  immersed  in  a 
more  real  world  which  it  cannot  define.  It  rests  quietly  in  this 
awareness  :  quite  silent,  utterly  at  peace.  In  the  place  of  the 
struggles  for  complete  concentration  which  mark  the  beginning 
of  Recollection,  there  is  now  an  entire  surrender  of  the  will  and 
activity,  of  the  very  power  of  choice  :  and  with  this  surrender  to 
something  bigger,  as  with  the  surrender  of  conversion,  comes  an 
immense  relief  of  strain.  This  is  "  Quiet "  in  its  most  perfect 
form  :  this  sinking,  as  it  were,  of  the  little  child  of  the  Infinite 
into  its  Father's  arms. 

The  giving  up  of  I-hood,  the  process  of  self-stripping,  which 
we  have  seen  to  be  the  very  essence  of  the  purification  of  the 
self,  finds  its  correspondence  in  this  part  of  the  contemplative 
experience.  Here,  in  this  complete  cessation  of  man's  proud 
effort  to  do  somewhat  of  himself,  Humility,  who  rules  the  Fourth 
Degree  of  Love,  begins  to  be  known  in  her  paradoxical  beauty 
and  power.  Consciousness  here  loses  to  find,  and  dies  that  it 
may  live.  No  longer,  in  Rolle's  pungent  phrase,  is  it  a 
"Raunsaker  of  the  myghte  of  Godd  and  of  His  Majeste."1 
Thus  the  act  by  which  it  passes  into  the  Quiet  is  a  sacrament 
of  the  whole  mystic  quest :  of  the  turning  from  doing  to 
being,  the  abolition  of  separateness  in  the  interests  of  the 
Absolute  Life. 

The  state  of  "  Quiet,"  we  have  said,  entails  an  utter  suspension 

of  the  surface-consciousness  :  yet  consciousness  of  the  subject's 

irsonality   remains.      It    follows,   generally,   on   a   period   of 

leliberate  and  loving  recollection,  of  a  slow  and  steady  with- 

1  Prose  Treatises  of  Richard  Rolle  (E.E.T.S.  20),  p.  42. 


380  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

drawal  of  the  attention  from  the  channels  of  sense.  To  one 
who  is  entering  into  this  state  of  orison,  the  external  world 
seems  to  get  further  and  further  away  :  till  at  last  nothing  but 
the  paramount  fact  of  his  own  existence  remains.  So  startling, 
very  often,  is  the  deprivation  of  all  his  accustomed  mental 
furniture,  of  the  noise  and  flashing  of  the  transmitting  instru- 
ments of  sense,  that  the  negative  aspect  of  his  state  dominates 
consciousness  ;  and  he  can  but  describe  it  as  a  nothingness,  an 
emptiness,  a  "  naked "  orison.  He  is  there,  as  it  were  poised, 
resting,  waiting,  he  does  not  know  for  what :  only  he  is  conscious 
that  all,  even  in  this  utter  emptiness,  is  well.  Presently,  how- 
ever, he  becomes  aware  that  Something  fills  this  emptiness  ; 
something  omnipresent,  intangible,  like  sunny  air.  Ceasing  to 
attend  to  the  messages  from  without,  he  begins  to  notice  That 
which  has  always  been  within.  His  whole  being  is  thrown  open 
to  its  influence  :  it  permeates  his  consciousness. 

There  are,  then,  two  aspects  of  the  Orison  of  Quiet :  the 
aspect  of  deprivation,  of  emptiness  which  begins  it,  and  the 
aspect  of  acquisition,  of  something  found,  in  which  it  is  complete. 
In  its  description,  all  mystics  will  be  found  to  lean  to  one  side 
or  the  other,  to  the  affirmative  or  negative  element  which  it 
contains.  The  austere  mysticism  of  Eckhart  and  his  followers, 
their  temperamental  sympathy  with  the  Neoplatonic  language 
of  Dionysius  the  Areopagite,  caused  them  to  describe  it — and 
also  very  often  the  higher  state  of  contemplation  to  which  it 
leads — as  above  all  things  an  emptiness,  a  sublime  dark,  an 
ecstatic  deprivation.  They  will  not  profane  its  deep  satisfactions 
by  the  inadequate  terms  proper  to  earthly  peace  and  joy :  and, 
true  to  their  school,  fall  back  on  the  paradoxically  suggestive 
powers  of  negation.  To  St.  Teresa,  and  mystics  of  her  type,  on 
the  other  hand,  even  a  little  and  inadequate  image  of  its  rapture 
seems  better  than  none.  To  them  it  is  a  sweet  calm,  a  gentle 
silence,  in  which  the  lover  apprehends  the  presence  of  the 
Beloved :  a  God-given  state,  over  which  the  self  has  little  control. 

In  Eckhart's  writings  enthusiastic  descriptions  of  the  Quiet, 
of  inward  silence  and  passivity,  as  the  fruit  of  a  deliberate 
recollection,  abound.  In  his  view,  this  psychical  state  of  Quiet 
is  pre-eminently  that  in  which  the  soul  of  man  begins  to  be 
united  with  its  "ground,"  Pure  Being.  The  emptying  of  the 
field    of  consciousness,  its   cleansing   of  all   images — even   of 


INTROVERSION:   RECOLLECTION  AND  QUIET    381 

those  symbols  of  Reality  which  are  the  subjects  of  meditation — 
is  the  necessary  condition  under  which  alone  this  encounter 
can  take  place. 

"  The  soul,"  he  says,  "  with  all  its  powers,  has  divided  and 
scattered  itself  in  outward  things,  each  according  to  its  functions : 
the  power  of  sight  in  the  eye,  the  power  of  hearing  in  the  ear, 
the  power  of  taste  in  the  tongue,  and  thus  they  are  the  less  able 
to  work  inwardly,  for  every  power  which  is  divided  is  imperfect. 
So  the  soul,  if  she  would  work  inwardly,  must  call  home  all  her 
powers  and  collect  them  from  all  divided  things  to  one  inward 
work.  .  .  .  If  a  man  will  work  an  inward  work,  he  must  pour  all 
his  powers  into  himself  as  into  a  corner  of  the  soul,  and  must 
hide  himself  from  all  images  and  forms,  and  then  he  can  work. 
Then  he  must  come  into  a  forgetting  and  a  not-knowing.  He 
must  be  in  a  stillness  and  silence,  where  the  Word  may  be 
heard.  One  cannot  draw  near  to  this  Word  better  than  by 
stillness  and  silence :  then  it  is  heard  and  understood  in  utter 
ignorance.  When  one  knows  nothing  it  is  opened  and  revealed. 
Then  we  shall  become  aware  of  the  Divine  Ignorance,  and  our 
ignorance  will  be  ennobled  and  adorned  with  supernatural  know- 
ledge. And  when  we  simply  keep  ourselves  receptive,  we  are 
more  perfect  than  when  at  work."  » 

The  psychic  state  of  Quiet  has  a  further  value  for  the  mystic, 
as  being  the  intellectual  complement  and  expression  of  the 
moral  state  of  humility  and  receptivity :  the  very  condition, 
says  Eckhart,  of  the  New  Birth.  "  It  may  be  asked  whether 
this  Birth  is  best  accomplished  in  Man  when  he  does  his  work 
and  forms  and  thinks  himself  into  God,  or  when  he  keeps 
himself  in  Silence,  stillness  and  peace,  so  that  God  may  speak 
and  work  in  him  ;  .  .  .  the  best  and  noblest  way  in  which  thou 
mayst  come  into  this  work  and  life  is  by  keeping  silence  and 
letting  God  work  and  speak.  When  all  the  powers  are  with- 
drawn from  their  work  and  images,  there  is  this  word  spoken."  2 

Eckhart's  view  of  the  primary  importance  of  "  Quiet "  as 
essentially  the  introverted  state  is  shared  by  all  those  mediaeval 
mystics  who  lay  stress  on  the  psychological  rather  than  the 
objective  aspect  of  the  spiritual  life.  They  regard  it  as  the 
necessary  preliminary  of  all  contemplation  ;  and  describe  it  as 
a  normal  phase  of  the  inner  experience,  possible  of  attainment 
1  Meister  Eckhart,  Pied.  ii.  2  Ibid.,  Pred.  i. 


382  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

by  all  those  who  have  sufficiently  disciplined  themselves  in 
patience,  recollection,  and  humility. 

In  a  certain  old  English  mystical  work  which  still  remains 
in  MS. — one  of  that  group  of  treatises  of  the  fourteenth  century 
of  which  "  The  Cloud  of  Unknowing  "  is  the  best  known — there 
is  a  curious  and  detailed  instruction  on  the  disposition  of  mind 
proper  to  this  orison  of  silence.  It  clearly  owes  much  to  the 
teaching  of  the  Areopagite,  something  perhaps  to  Eckhart 
himself,  and  something  surely — if  we  may  judge  by  its  vivid 
and  exact  instructions — to  personal  experience.  "  When  thou 
comest  by  thyself,"  says  the  master  to  the  disciple  for  whom 
this  "  pystle  "  was  composed,  "  think  not  before  what  thou  shalt 
do  after :  but  forsake  as  well  good  thoughts  as  evil  thoughts, 
and  pray  not  with  thy  mouth,  but  lift  thee  right  well.  .  .  .  And 
look  that  nothing  live  in  thy  working  mind  but  a  naked  intent 
stretching  unto  God,  not  clothed  in  any  special  thought  of  God 
in  thyself,  how  He  is  in  Himself  or  in  any  of  His  works,  but 
only  that  He  is  as  He  is.  Let  Him  be  so,  I  pray  thee,  and 
make  Him  on  none  otherwise  speech  nor  search  in  Him  by 
subtilty  of  wit :  but  believe  by  thy  ground.  This  naked  intent 
freely  fastened  and  grounded  by  very  belief,  shall  be  nought  else 
to  thy  thought  and  thy  feeling  but  a  naked  thought  and  a  blind 
feeling  of  thine  own  being.  .  .  .  That  darkness  be  thy  mirror 
and  thy  mind  whole.  Think  no  further  of  thyself  than  I  bid 
thee  do  of  thy  God,  so  that  thou  be  oned  with  Him  in  spirit  as 
in  thought,  without  departing  and  scattering,  for  he  is  thy  being 
and  in  Him  thou  art  that  thou  art :  not  only  by  cause  and  by 
being,  but  also  He  is  in  thee  both  thy  cause  and  thy  being. 
And  therefore  think  on  God  as  in  this  work  as  thou  dost  on 
thyself,  and  on  thyself  as  thou  dost  on  God,  that  He  is  as  He  is 
and  thou  art  as  thou  art,  and  that  thy  thought  be  not  scattered 
nor  departed  but  privied  in  Him  that  is  All."  x 

"  Let  Him  be  so,  I  pray  thee  !  "  It  is  an  admonition  against 
spiritual  worry,  an  entreaty  to  the  individual,  already  at  work 
twisting  experience  to  meet  his  own  conceptions,  to  let  things 
be  as  they  are,  to  receive  and  be  content.  Leave  off  doing,  that 
you  may  be.  Leave  off  analysis,  that  you  may  know.  "  That 
meek  darkness  be  thy  mirror " — humble  receptivity  is  the 
watchword  of  this  state.  "In  this,"  says  Eckhart  finely,  "the 
1  "An  Epistle  of  Private  Counsel"  (B.M.  Harl.  674). 


INTROVERSION:   RECOLLECTION  AND   QUIET    383 

soul  is  of  equal  capacity  with  God.  As  God  is  boundless  in 
giving,  so  the  soul  is  boundless  in  receiving.  And  as  God  is 
almighty  in  His  work,  so  the  soul  is  an  abyss  of  receptivity : 
and  so  she  is  formed  anew  with  God  and  in  God.  .  .  .  The 
disciples  of  St.  Dionysius  asked  him  why  Timotheus  surpassed 
them  all  in  perfection.  Then  said  Dionysius,  '  Timotheus  is 
receptive  of  God.'  And  thus  thine  ignorance  is  not  a  defect 
but  thy  highest  perfection,  and  thine  inactivity  thy  highest  work. 
And  so  in  this  work  thou  must  bring  all  thy  works  to  nought 
and  all  thy  powers  into  silence,  if  thou  wilt  in  truth  experience 
this  birth  within  thyself."  « 

It  is  interesting  to  contrast  these  descriptions  of  the  Quiet, 
with  St.  Teresa's  temperamental  reaction  on  the  same  psycho- 
logical state.  Where  the  English  mystic's  teaching  is  full  of  an 
implied  appeal  to  the  will,  the  Spanish  saint  is  all  for  the 
involuntary,  or,  as  she  would  call  it,  the  "  supernatural  "  actions 
of  the  soul.  "  This  true  orison  of  quiet,"  she  says,  "  has  in  it  an 
element  of  the  supernatural.  We  cannot,  in  spite  of  all  our 
efforts,  procure  it  for  ourselves.  It  is  a  sort  of  peace  in  which 
the  soul  establishes  herself,  or  rather  in  which  God  establishes 
the  soul,  as  He  did  the  righteous  Simeon.  All  her  powers  are 
at  rest.  She  understands,  but  otherwise  than  by  the  senses,  that 
she  is  already  near  her  God,  and  that  if  she  draws  a  little  nearer, 
she  will  become  by  union  one  with  Him.  She  does  not  see  this 
with  the  eyes  of  the  body,  nor  with  the  eyes  of  the  soul.  .  .  . 
It  is  like  the  repose  of  a  traveller  who,  within  sight  of  the  goal, 
stops  to  take  breath,  and  then  continues  with  new  strength  upon 
his  way.  One  feels  a  great  bodily  comfort,  a  great  satisfaction 
of  soul :  such  is  the  happiness  of  the  soul  in  seeing  herself  close 
to  the  spring,  that  even  without  drinking  of  the  waters  she  finds 
herself  refreshed.  It  seems  to  her  that  she  wants  nothing  more  : 
the  faculties  which  are  at  rest  would  like  always  to  remain  still, 
for  the  least  of  their  movements  is  able  to  trouble  or  prevent  her 
love.  Those  who  are  in  this  orison  wish  their  bodies  to  remain 
motionless,  for  it  seems  to  them  that  at  the  least  movement 
they  will  lose  this  sweet  peace  .  .  .  they  are  in  the  palace  close 
to  their  King,  and  they  see  that  He  begins  to  give  them  His 
kingdom.  It  seems  to  them  that  they  are  no  longer  in  the 
world,  and  they  wish  neither  to  hear  nor  to  see  it,  but  only 

1  Eckhart,  Pred.  ii. 


384  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

God.  .  .  .  There  is  this  difference  between  the  orison  of 
quiet  and  that  in  which  the  whole  soul  is  united  to  God ; 
that  in  this  last  the  soul  has  not  to  absorb  the  Divine  Food, 
God  deposits  it  with  her,  she  knows  not  how.  The  orison 
of  quiet,  on  the  other  hand,  demands,  it  seems  to  me,  a 
slight  effort,  but  it  is  accompanied  by  so  much  sweetness 
that  one  hardly  feels  it."  x 

"  A  slight  effort,"  says  St.  Teresa.  "  A  naked  intent 
stretching,"  says  the  "Pystle  of  Private  Counsel."  In  these 
words  lies  the  difference  between  the  true  and  healthy  mystic 
state  of  "  Quiet "  and  its  .  morbid  perversion  in  "  Quietism  "  : 
the  difference  between  the  tense  stillness  of  the  athlete  and 
the  limp  passivity  of  the  sluggard,  who  is  really  lazy,  though 
he  looks  resigned.  True  "  Quiet "  is  a  means,  not  an  end : 
is  actively  embraced,  not  passively  endured.  It  is  an  incident 
in  the  self  s  growth  in  contemplation  ;  a  bridge  which  leads 
from  its  old  and  unco-ordinated  life  of  activity  to  its  new, 
unified  life  of  deep  action — the  real  "mystic  life"  of  man. 
This  state  is  desired  by  the  mystic,  not  in  order  that  conscious- 
ness may  remain  a  blank,  but  in  order  that  the  "Word 
which  is  Alive  "  may  be  written  thereon.  Too  often,  however, 
this  primary  fact  has  been  ignored,  and  the  Interior  Silence 
has  been  put  by  wayward  transcendentalists  to  other  and 
less  admirable  use. 

"  Quiet "  is  the  danger-zone  of  introversion.  Of  ,all  the 
forms  of  mystical  activity,  perhaps  this  has  been  the  most 
abused,  the  least  understood.  Its  theory,  seized  upon, 
divorced  from  its  context,  and  developed  to  excess,  produced 
the  foolish  and  dangerous  exaggerations  of  Quietism :  and 
these,  in  their  turn,  caused  a  wholesale  condemnation  of  the 
principle  of  passivity,  and  made  many  superficial  persons 
regard  "  naked  orison  "  as  an  essentially  heretical  act.2  The 
accusation  of  Quietism  has  been  hurled  at  many  mystics 
whose  only  fault  was  a  looseness  of  language  which  laid 
them  open  to  misapprehension.  Others,  however,  have 
certainly    contrived,    by    a    perversion    and    isolation    of    the 

1  "  Camino  de  Perfeccion,"  cap.  xxxiii.     The  whole  chapter,  which  is  a  marvel 
of  subtle  analysis,  should  be  read  in  this  connexion. 

2  Note,  for  instance,  the  cautious  language  of  "  Holy  Wisdom,"  Treatise  iii.  §  iii. 
cap.  vii. 


INTROVERSION:    RECOLLECTION  AND   QUIET    385 

teachings  of  great  contemplatives  on  this  point,  to  justify 
the  deliberate  production  of  a  half-hypnotic  state  of  passivity. 
With  this  meaningless  state  of  "absorption  in  nothing  at  all" 
they  were  content ;  claiming  that  in  it  they  were  in  touch 
with  the  divine  life,  and  therefore  exempt  from  the  usual 
duties  and  limitations  of  human  existence.  "Quietism," 
usually,  and  rather  unfairly,  spoken  of  in  connexion  with 
Madame  Guyon,  already  existed  in  a  far  more  dangerous 
and  perverted  form  in  the  Middle  Ages :  and  was  denounced 
with  violence  by  Ruysbroeck,  one  of  the  greatest  masters  of 
true  introversion  whom  the  Christian  world  has  known. 

"  It  is  important,  in  the  spiritual  life,"  he  says,  "  that  we 
should  know,  denounce,  and  crush  all  quietism.  These  quietists 
remain  in  a  state  of  utter  passivity,  and  in  order  that  they  may 
the  more  tranquilly  enjoy  their  false  repose  they  abstain  from 
every  interior  and  exterior  act.  Such  a  repose  is  treason  to 
God,  a  crime  of  lese-majeste.  Quietism  blinds  a  man,  plunging 
him  into  that  ignorance  which  is  not  superior,  but  inferior,  to  all 
knowledge :  such  a  man  remains  seated  within  himself,  useless 
and  inert.  This  repose  is  simply  laziness,  and  this  tranquillity  is 
forgetfulness  of  God,  one's  self  and  one's  neighbour.  It  is  the 
exact  opposite  of  the  divine  peace,  the  opposite  of  the  peace  of 
the  Abyss ;  of  that  marvellous  peace  which  is  full  of  activity,  full  of 
affection,  full  of  desire,  full  of  seeking,  that  burning  and  insatiable 
peace  which  we  pursue  more  and  more  after  we  have  found  it. 
Between  the  peace  of  the  heights  and  the  quietism  of  the  depths 
there  is  all  the  difference  that  exists  between  God  and  a  mis- 
taken creature.  Horrible  error!  Men  seek  it  themselves,  they 
establish  themselves  comfortably  within  themselves,  and  no 
longer  seek  God  even  by  their  desires.  Yet  it  is  not  He  whom 
they  possess  in  their  deceitful  repose."  x 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  for  selves  of  a  certain  psychical 
constitution,  this  "  deceitful  repose  "  is  only  too  easy  of  attain- 
ment. They  can  by  wilful  self-suggestion  deliberately  produce 
this  emptiness,  this  inward  silence,  and  luxuriate  in  its 
peaceful  effects.  To  do  this  from  self-regarding  motives,  or  to 
do  it  to  excess — to  let  "  peaceful  enjoyment "  swamp  "  active 
love " — is  a  mystical  vice  :  and  this  perversion  of  the  spiritual 

1  Hello,  p.  17.     Hello  has  here  condensed  Ruysbroeck's  teaching  on  this  point, 
which  fills  the  last  four  chapters  of  bk.  ii.  of"  L'Ornement  des  Noces  Spirituelles. " 
CC 


386  AN   INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

faculties,  like  perversion  of  the  natural  faculties,  brings  de- 
generation in  its  train.  It  leads  to  the  absurdities  of  "  holy 
indifference,"  and  ends  in  the  complete  stultification  of  the 
mental  and  moral  life.  The  true  mystic  never  tries  deliberately 
to  enter  the  orison  of  quiet :  with  St.  Teresa,  he  regards  it  as  a 
supernatural  gift,  beyond  his  control,  though  fed*  by  his  will  and 
love.  That  is  to  say,  where  it  exists  in  a  healthy  form,  it  exists 
as  a  natural  though  involuntary  state  the  result  of  normal  de- 
velopment;  not  as  a  self-induced  one,  a  psychic  trick. 

The  balance  to  be  struck  in  this  stage  of  introversion  can 
only  be  expressed,  it  seems,  in  paradox.  The  true  condition  of 
quiet,  according  to  the  great  mystics,  is  at  once  active  and 
passive :  it  is  pure  surrender,  but  a  surrender  which  is  not  limp 
self-abandonment,  but  rather  the  free  and  constantly  renewed 
self-giving  and  self-emptying  of  a  burning  love.  The  depart- 
mental intellect  is  silenced,  but  the  totality  of  character  is  flung 
open  to  the  influence  of  the  Real.  Personality  is  not  lost :  only 
its  hard  edge  is  gone.  A  "  rest  most  busy,"  says  Hilton.  Like 
the  soaring  of  an  eagle,  says  Augustine  Baker,  when  "  the  flight 
is  continued  for  a  good  space  with  a  great  swiftness,  but  withal 
with  great  stillness,  quietness  and  ease,  without  any  waving  of 
the  wings  at  all,  or  the  least  force  used  in  any  member,  being  in 
as  much  ease  and  stillness  as  if  she  were  reposing  in  her  nest."  x 

"  According  to  the  unanimous  teaching  of  the  most  experi- 
enced and  explicit  of  the  specifically  Theistic  and  Christian 
mystics,"  says  Von  Hiigel,  "  the  appearance,  the  soul's  own 
impression,  of  a  cessation  of  life  and  energy  of  the  soul  in 
periods  of  special  union  with  God,  or  of  great  advance  in  spiritu- 
ality, is  an  appearance  only.  Indeed  this,  at  such  times  strong, 
impression  of  rest  springs  most  certainly  from  an  unusually  large 
amount  of  actualized  energy,  an  energy  which  is  now  penetra- 
ting, and  finding  expression  by  every  pore  and  fibre  of  the  soul. 
The  whole  moral  and  spiritual  creature  expands  and  rests,  yes ; 
but  this  very  rest  is  produced  by  Action,  "  unperceived  because 
so  fleet,  so  near,  so  all-fulfilling."  2 

The  great  teachers  of  Quietism,  having  arrived  at  and  ex- 
perienced the  psychological  state  of  "  quiet "  :  having  known  the 
ineffable  peace  and  certainty,  the  bliss  which  follows  on  its  act 

1  "  Holy  Wisdom,"  Treatise  iii.  §  iii.  cap.  vii. 

2  Von  Hiigel,  "  The  Mystical  Element  of  Religion,"  vol.  ii.  p.  132. 


INTROVERSION:   RECOLLECTION  AND   QUIET    387 

of  complete  surrender,  its  utter  and  speechless  resting  in  the 
Absolute  Life,  believed  themselves  to  have  discovered  in  this 
half-way  house  the  goal  of  the  mystic  quest.  Therefore,  whilst 
much  of  their  teaching  remains  true,  as  a  real  description  of  a 
real  and  valid  state  experienced  by  almost  all  contemplatives  in 
the  course  of  their  development,  the  inference  which  they  drew 
from  it,  that  in  this  mere  blank  abiding  in  the  deeps  the  soul  had 
reached  the  end  of  her  course,  was  untrue  and  bad  for  life. 

Thus  Molinos  gives  in  the  Spiritual  Guide  many  unex- 
ceptional maxims  upon  Interior  Silence  :  "  By  not  speaking  nor 
desiring,  and  not  thinking,"  he  says  justly  enough  of  the  contem- 
plative spirit,  "  she  arrives  at  the  true  and  perfect  mystical  silence 
wherein  God  speaks  with  the  soul,  communicates  Himself  to  it, 
and  in  the  abyss  of  its  own  depth  teaches  it  the  most  perfect  and 
exalted  wisdom.  He  calls  and  guides  it  to  this  inward  solitude 
and  mystical  silence,  when  He  says  that  He  will  speak  to  it 
alone  in  the  most  secret  and  hidden  part  of  the  heart."  Here 
Molinos  speaks  the  language  of  all  mystics,  yet  the  total  result 
of  his  teaching  was  to  suggest  to  the  ordinary  mind  that  there 
was  a  peculiar  virtue  in  doing  nothing  at  all,  and  that  all 
deliberate  spiritual  activities  were  bad.1 

A  good  deal  of  the  pseudo-mysticism  which  is  industriously 
preached  at  the  present  time  is  thus  crudely  quietistic.  It 
speaks  much  of  the  necessity  of  "  going  into  the  silence,"  and 
even,  with  a  strange  temerity,  gives  preparatory  lessons  in  sub- 
conscious meditation :  a  proceeding  which  might  well  provoke 
the  laughter  of  the  saints.  The  faithful,  being  gathered  to- 
gether, are  taught  by  simple  exercises  in  recollection  the  way 
to  attain  the  "Quiet."  By  this  mental  trick  the  modern  tran- 
scendentalist  naturally  attains  to  a  state  of  vacant  placidity,  in 
which  he  rests :  and  "  remaining  in  a  distracted  idleness  and 
misspending  the  time  in  expectation  of  extraordinary  visits," 
believes — with  a  faith  which  many  of  the  orthodox  might  envy 
— that  he  is  here  "  united  with  his  Principle."  But,  though  the 
psychological  state  which  contemplatives  call  the  orison  of  quiet  is 
a  very  common  condition  of  mystical  attainment,  it  is  not  by  itself 
mystical  at  all.  It  is  a  state  of  preparation  :  a  way  of  opening 
the  door.     That  which  comes  in  when  the  door  is  opened  will 

1  He  goes  so  far  as  to  say  in  one  of  his  "  condemned  "  propositions,  "  Oportet 
hominem  suas  potentias  annihilare,"  and  "  velle  operari  active  est  Deum  offendere." 


388  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

be  that  which  we  truly  and  passionately  desire.  The  will  makes 
plain  the  way  :  the  heart — the  whole  man — conditions  the  guest. 
The  true  contemplative,  coming  to  this  plane  of  utter  stillness, 
does  not  desire  "  extraordinary  favours  and  visitations,"  but  the 
privilege  of  breathing  for  a  little  while  the  atmosphere  of  Love. 
He  is  about  that  which  St.  Bernard  called  "  the  business  of  all 
businesses "  :  goes,  in  perfect  simplicity,  to  the  encounter  of 
Perfection,  not  to  the  development  of  himself. 

So,  even  at  this — seemingly  the  most  "  passive  " — stage  of 
his  progress,  his  operations  are  found  on  analysis  to  have  a 
dynamic  and  purposive  character  :  his  very  repose  is  the  result 
of  stress.  He  is  a  pilgrim  that  still  seeks  his  country.  Urged 
by  his  innate  tendency  to  transcendence,  he  is  on  his  way  to 
higher  levels,  more  sublime  fulfilments,  greater  self-giving  acts. 
Though  he  may  have  forsaken  all  superficial  activity,  deep, 
urgent  action  still  remains.  "The  possession  of  God,"  says 
Ruysbroeck,  "  demands  and  supposes  perpetual  activity.  He 
who  thinks  otherwise  deceives  himself  and  others.  All  our 
life  as  it  is  in  God  is  immersed  in  blessedness :  all  our  life  as  it 
is  in  ourselves  is  immersed  in  activity.  And  these  two  lives 
form  one,  self-contradictory  in  its  attributes ;  rich  and  poor, 
hungry  and  fulfilled,  active  and  quiet."1  The  essential  differ- 
ence between  this  true  "  active "  Quiet  and  Quietism  of  all 
kinds  has  been  admirably  expressed  by  Baron  von  Hiigel. 
"  Quietism,  the  doctrine  of  the  One  Act ;  passivity  in  a  literal 
sense,  as  the  absence  or  imperfection  of  the  power  or  use  of 
initiative  on  the  soul's  part,  in  any  and  every  state ;  these  doc- 
trines were  finally  condemned,  and  most  rightly  and  necessarily 
condemned  ;  the  Prayer  of  Quiet  and  the  various  states  and 
degrees  of  an  ever-increasing  predominance  of  Action  over 
Activity — an  action  which  is  all  the  more  the  soul's  very  own, 
because  the  more  occasioned,  directed,  and  informed  by  God's 
action  and  stimulation — these  and  the  other  chief  lines  of  the 
ancient  experience  and  practice  remain  as  true,  correct,  and 
necessary  as  ever."3 

The  "  ever  -  increasing  predominance  of  Action  over 
Activity" — the  deep  and  vital  movement  of  the  whole 
self,    too    deeply   absorbed    for    self-consciousness,    set    over 


1  "  De  Contemplatione,"  Hello,  p.  147. 

2  "  The  Mystical  Element  of  Religion,"  vol.  ii.  p.  143. 


INTROVERSION:   RECOLLECTION  AND   QUIET    389 

against  its  fussy  surface-energies — here  is  the  true  ideal  of 
orison.  This  must  inform  all  the  self's  effort  towards  union 
with  the  absolute  Life  and  Love  which  waits  at  the  door.  It  is 
an  ideal  which  includes  Quiet  as  surely  as  it  excludes 
Quietism. 

As  for  that  doctrine  of  the  One  Act  here  mentioned,  which 
was  preached  by  the  more  extreme  quietists ;  it,  like  all  else  in 
this  movement,  was  the  perversion  of  a  great  mystical  truth.  It 
taught  that  the  turning  of  the  soul  towards  Reality,  the 
merging  of  the  will  in  God,  which  is  the  very  heart  of  the 
mystic  life,  was  One  Act,  never  to  be  repeated.  This  done,  the 
self  had  nothing  more  to  do  but  to  rest  in  the  Divine  Life,  be 
its  unresisting  instrument.  Pure  passivity  and  indifference 
were  its  ideal.  All  activity  was  forbidden  it,  all  choice 
was  a  negation  of  its  surrender,  all  striving  was  unneces- 
sary and  wrong.  It  needed  only  to  rest  for  ever  more 
and  "let  God  work  and  speak  in  the  silence."  This 
doctrine  is  so  utterly  at  variance  with  all  that  we  know  of 
the  laws  of  life  and  growth,  that  it  hardly  seems  to  stand  in  need 
of  condemnation.  Such  a  state  of  indifference — which  the 
quietists  strove  in  vain  to  identify  with  that  state  of  Pure  Love 
which  "  seeketh  not  its  own "  in  spiritual  things — cannot 
coexist  with  any  of  those  "  degrees  of  ardent  charity  "  through 
which  man's  spirit  must  pass  on  its  journey  to  the  One  :  and 
this  alone  is  enough  to  prove  its  non-mystical  character. 

It  is  only  fair  to  Madame  Guyon  to  say  that  she  cannot 
justly  be  charged  with  preaching  this  exaggeration  of  passivity, 
whatever  inferences  a  loose  and  fluid  style  may  have  allowed 
her  enemies  and  more  foolish  followers  to  draw  from  her  works. 
"Some  persons,"  she  says,  "when  they  hear  of  the  orison  of 
quiet,  falsely  imagine  that  the  soul  remains  stupid,  dead,  and 
inactive.  But  unquestionably  it  acteth  therein,  more  nobly  and 
more  extensively  than  it  had  ever  done  before,  for  God  Himself 
is  the  Mover  and  the  soul  now  acteth  by  the  agency  of  His 
Spirit.  .  .  .  Instead,  then,  of  promoting  idleness,  we  promote 
the  highest  activity,  by  inculcating  a  total  dependence  on 
the  Spirit  of  God  as  our  moving  principle,  for  in  Him  we  live 
and  move  and  have  our  being.  This  meek  dependence  on  the 
Spirit  of  God  is  indispensably  necessary  to  reinitiate  the  soul  in 
its  primeval  unity  and  simplicity,  that  it  may  thereby  attain  the 


390  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

end  of  its  creation.  .  .  .  Our  activity  should  therefore  consist  in 
endeavouring  to  acquire  and  maintain  such  a  state  as  may  be 
most  susceptible  of  divine  impressions,  most  flexile  to  all  the 
operations  of  the  Eternal  Word.  Whilst  a  tablet  is  unsteady, 
the  painter  is  unable  to  delineate  a  true  copy :  so  every  act  of 
our  own  selfish  and  proper  spirit  is  productive  of  false  and 
erroneous  lineaments,  it  interrupts  the  work  and  defeats  the 
design  of  this  Adorable  Artist.  We  must,  then,  remain 
tranquil  and  move  only  when  He  moves  us."1 

In  another  metaphor,  the  contemplative's  progress  must 
involve  an  advance  from  the  active  and  laborious  watering  of 
the  soul's  garden  which  he  practised  in  Meditation,  to  that  state 
of  transcendence  in  which  the  river  of  life  flows  through  it 
unchecked  :  wells  up,  as  St  Teresa  says  in  another  place,  from 
a  hidden  spring,  and  does  not  enter  by  an  aqueduct  from 
without. 2 

The  true  mystics,  in  whom  the  Orison  of  Quiet  develops 
to  this  state  of  receptivity,  seldom  use  in  describing  it  the 
language  of  "  holy  indifference."  Their  love  and  enthusiasm 
will  not  let  them  do  that.  It  is  true,  of  course,  that  they  are 
indifferent  to  all  else  save  the  supreme  claims  of  love  :  but  then, 
it  is  of  love  that  they  speak.  Ego  dormio  et  cor  meum  vigilat. 
"This,"  says  St.  Teresa,  "is  a  sleep  of  the  powers  of  the  soul, 
which  are  not  wholly  lost,  nor  yet  understanding  how  they  are  at 
work.  ...  To  me  it  seems  to  be  nothing  else  than  a  death,  as 
it  were,  to  all  the  things  of  this  world,  and  a  fruition  of  God.  I 
know  of  no  other  words  whereby  to  describe  it  or  explain 
it ;  neither  does  the  soul  then  know  what  to  do — for  it  knows 
not  whether  to  speak  or  be  silent,  whether  it  should  laugh  or 
weep.  It  is  a  glorious  folly,  a  heavenly  madness,  wherein  true 
wisdom  is  acquired  ;  and  to  the  soul  a  kind  of  fruition  most  full 
of  delight.  .  .  .  The  faculties  of  the  soul  now  retain  only  the 
power  of  occupying  themselves  wholly  with  God  ;  not  one  of 
them  ventures  to  stir,  neither  can  we  move  one  of  them  without 
making  great  efforts  to  distract  ourselves — and,  indeed,  I  do  not 
think  we  can  do  it  at  all  at  this  time."  3 

1  "  Mbyen  Court,"  cap.  xxi.    Madame  Guyon's  vague  and  shifting  language,  how- 
ever, sometimes  lays  her  open  to  other  and  more  strictly  "quietistic  "  interpretations. 
3  "  El  Castillo  Interior,"  Moradas  Cuartas,  cap.  iii. 
3  Vida,  cap.  xvi.  %%  I  and  4. 


INTROVERSION:  RECOLLECTION  AND  QUIET    391 

Here,  then,  we  see  the  Orison  of  Silence  melting  into  true 
contemplation :  its  stillness  is  ruffled  by  its  joy.  The  Quiet 
reveals  itself  as  an  essentially  transitional  state,  introducing  the 
self  into  a  new  sphere  of  activity. 

The  second  degree  of  ardent  love,  says  Richard  of  St.  Victor, 
binds y  so  that  the  soul  which  is  possessed  of  it  is  unable  to 
think  of  anything  else:  it  is  not  only  "insuperable,"  but  also 
"inseparable." "  He  compares  it  to  the  soul's  bridal ;  the 
definitive,  irrevocable  act,  by  which  permanent  union  is  initiated. 
The  feeling-state  which  is  the  equivalent  of  the  Quiet  is  just  such 
a  passive  and  joyous  yielding-up  of  the  virgin  soul  to  its  Bride- 
groom ;  a  silent  marriage-vow.  It  is  ready  for  all  that  may 
happen  to  it,  all  that  may  be  asked  of  it — to  give  itself  and 
lose  itself,  to  wait  upon  the  pleasure  of  its  Love.  From  this 
inward  surrender  the  self  emerges  to  the  new  life,  the  new 
knowledge  which  is  mediated  to  it  under  the  innumerable 
forms  of  Contemplation. 

1  "De  Quatuor  Gradibus  Violentae  Charitatis"  (Migne,  Patrologia  Latina,  vol. 
cxcvi.  col.  1215  b). 


CHAPTER  VII 
INTROVERSION.     Part  II :   CONTEMPLATION 

Contemplation,  a  state  of  attainment — Its  principal  forms — Difference  between 
contemplation  and  ecstasy — Contemplation  defined — Its  psychology — Delacroix — It 
is  a  brief  act — St.  Augustine — It  is  " inefjable "  and  "noetic" — Contemplation  in- 
cludes a  large  group  of  states — Its  two  marks ;  totality  and  self-mergence — Dionysius 
the  Areopagite — It  is  a  unitive  act — Ruysbroeck — Hilton — What  do  mystics  tell  us 
of  the  contemplative  act  ? — Two  things  :  loving  communion  and  divine  ignorance — 
Both  represent  temperamental  reaction — The  mystic  usually  describes  his  own  feeling 
state — Richard  Rolle — Two  forms  of  contemplation  :  transcendental  and  immanental 
— Contemplation  of  Transcendence — The  Via  Negativa — The  Divine  Dark — The 
Desert  of  God — Tauler — Maeterlinck — Vision  of  Transcendence — Dante — Angela  of 
Foligno — Contemplation  of  Immanence — An  experience  of  Personality — Divine  Love 
— These  two  forms  really  one — Both  necessary — Ruysbroeck  combines  them — The 
process  of  Contemplation — Dionysius — The  Cloud  of  Unknowing — Boehme — Divine 
Ignorance — Angelo  of  Foligno — Loving  contemplation — St.  John  of  the  Cross — 
Rolle — The  orison  of  union — Necessary  to  a  description  of  the  contemplative  act — 
Deep  orison — St.  Teresa 

WE  must  now  consider  under  the  general  name  of 
Contemplation  all  those  more  advanced  states  of 
introversion  in  which  the  mystic  attains  somewhat : 
the  results  and  rewards  of  the  discipline  of  Recollection  and 
Quiet.  If  this  course  of  spiritual  athletics  has  done  its  work, 
he  has  now  brought  to  the  surface,  trained  and  made  efficient 
for  life,  a  form  of  consciousness — a  medium  of  communication 
with  reality — which  remains  undeveloped  in  ordinary  men. 
Thanks  to  this  faculty,  he  is  now  able  to  perform  the  charac- 
teristic mystic  act :  to  obtain  a  temporary  union  with  "  that 
spiritual,  fount  closed  to  all  reactions  from  the  world  of  sense, 
where,  without  witnesses  of  any  kind,  God  and  our  Freedom 
meet." * 

In   the   degrees  of  Recollection,  the  self  trained  itself  in 
spiritual  attention :  and  at  the  same  time  lifted  itself  to  a  new 

*  Recejac,  "Fondements  de  la  Connaissance  Mystique,"  p.  176. 
392 


INTROVERSION  :   CONTEMPLATION  393 

level  of  perception  where,  by  means  of  the  symbol  which 
formed  the  gathering- point  of  its  powers,  it  received  a  new 
inflow  of  life.  In  the  degrees  of  Quiet  it  passed  on  to  a  state 
characterized  by  a  tense  stillness,  in  which  it  rested  in  that 
Reality  at  which,  as  yet,  it  dared  not  look.  Now,  in  Contem- 
plation, it  is  to  transcend  alike  the  stages  of  symbol  and  of 
silence :  and  "  energize  enthusiastically "  on  those  high  levels 
which  are  dark  to  the  intellect  but  radiant  to  the  heart.  We 
must  expect  this  contemplative  activity  to  show  itself  in  many 
different  ways  and  take  many  different  names,  since  its  type 
will  be  largely  governed  by  individual  temperament.  It  appears 
under  the  forms  which  ascetic  writers  call  "ordinary"  and 
"  extraordinary,"  "  infused  "  or  "  passive  "  Contemplation  ;  and 
as  that  "  orison  of  union "  which  we  have  already  discussed.1 
Sometimes,  too,  it  shows  itself  under  those  abnormal  psycho- 
physical conditions  in  which  the  intense  concentration  of  the 
self  upon  its  overpowering  transcendental  perceptions  results  in 
the  narrowing  of  the  field  of  consciousness  to  a  point  at  which 
all  knowledge  of  the  external  world  is  lost,  all  the  messages  of 
the  senses  are  utterly  ignored.  The  subject  then  appears  to  be 
in  a  state  of  trance,  characterized  by  physical  rigidity  and  more 
or  less  complete  anaesthesia.  These  are  the  conditions  of  Rap- 
ture or  Ecstasy  :  conditions  of  which  the  physical  resemblances 
to  certain  symptoms  of  hysteria  have  so  greatly  reassured  the 
enemies  of  mysticism. 

Rapture  and  Ecstasy  differ  from  Contemplation  proper  in 
being  wholly  involuntary  states.  Rapture,  says  St.  Teresa, 
who  frequently  experienced  it,  is  absolutely  irresistible  ;  we 
cannot  hinder  it.  Whereas  the  orison  of  union,  which  is  one 
of  the  forms  in  which  pure  Contemplation  appears  at  its  highest 
point  of  development,  is  still  controlled  to  a  large  extent  by 
the  will  of  the  subject,  and  "  may  be  hindered,  although  that 
resistance  be  painful  and  violent"2  There  is  thus  a  sharp 
natural  division — a  division  both  physical  and  psychical  — 
established  between  the  contemplative  and  the  ecstatic  states  : 
and  we  shall  do  well  to  avail  ourselves  of  it  in  our  examination 
of  their  character. 

First,  then,  as  to  Contemplation  proper  :  what  is  it  ?  It  is  a 
supreme  manifestation  of  that  indivisible  "  power  of  knowing  " 

1  Supra,  p.  294.  2  St.  Teresa,  Vida,  cap.  xx.  §§  I  and  3. 


P 


394  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

which  lies  at  the  root  of  all  our  artistic  and  spiritual  satisfac- 
tions. In  it,  man's  "  made  Trinity  "  of  thought,  love,  and  will, 
becomes  a  Unity :  and  feeling  and  perception  are  fused,  as  they 
are  in  all  our  apprehensions  of  beauty,  and  best  contacts  with 
life.  It  is  an  act,  not  of  the  Reason,  but  of  the  whole  personality 
working  under  the  stimulus  of  mystic  love.  Hence,  its  results 
feed  every  aspect  of  that  personality :  minister  to  its  instinct 
for  the  Good,  the  Beautiful,  and  the  True.  Psychologically  it  is 
an  induced  state,  in  which  the  field  of  consciousness  is  greatly 
contracted :  the  whole  of  the  self,  its  conative  powers,  being 
sharply  focused,  concentrated  upon  one  thing.  We  pour  our- 
selves out  or,  as  it  sometimes  seems  to  us,  in  towards  this  over- 
powering interest :  seem  to  ourselves  to  reach  it  and  be  merged 
with  it.  Whatever  the  thing  may  be,  in  this  act  we  know  it,  as 
we  cannot  know  it  by  the  mere  ordinary  devices  of  thought. 

The  turning  of  our  attention  from  that  crisp  and  definite  world 
of  multiplicity,  that  cinematograph-show,  with  which  intelli- 
gence is  accustomed  and  able  to  deal,  has  loosed  new  powers  of 
perception  which  we  never  knew  that  we  possessed.  Instead  of 
,  sharply  perceiving  the  fragment,  we  feel  the  solemn  presence  of 
the  whole.  Deeper  levels  of  personality  are  opened  up,  and  go 
gladly  to  the  encounter  of  the  universe.  That  universe,  or  some 
Reality  hid  between  it  and  ourselves,  responds  to  "the  true 
lovely  will  of  our  heart."  Our  ingoing  concentration  is  balanced 
by  a  great  outgoing  sense  of  expansion,  of  new  worlds  made 
ours,  as  we  receive  the  inflow  of  its  life. 

Delacroix  has  described  with  great  subtlety  the  psycho- 
logical character  of  pure  contemplation. 

"  When  contemplation  appears,"  he  says :  "  (a)  It  produces 
a  general  condition  of  indifference,  liberty,  and  peace,  an 
elevation  above  the  world,  a  sense  of  beatitude.  The  Subject 
ceases  to  perceive  himself  in  the  multiplicity  and  division 
of  his  general  consciousness.  He  is  raised  above  himself.  A 
deeper  and  a  purer  soui  substitutes  itself  for  the  normal  self. 
(h)  In  this  state,  in  which  consciousness  of  I-hood  and  con- 
sciousness of  the  world  disappear,  the  mystic  is  conscious  of 
being  in  immediate  relation  with  God  Himself;  of  participating 
in  Divinity.  Contemplation  installs  a  method  of  being  and  of 
knowing.  Moreover,  these  two  things  tend  at  bottom  to 
become  one.     The  mystic  has  more  and  more  the  impression 


INTROVERSION:  CONTEMPLATION  395 

of  being  that  which  he  knows,  and  of  knowing  that  which  he 
is."  *  Temporally  rising,  in  fact,  to  levels  of  freedom,  he  knows 
himself  real,  and  therefore  knows  Reality. 

Now,  the  object  of  the  mystic's  contemplation  is  always 
some  aspect  of  the  Infinite  Life :  of  "  God,  the  one  Reality." 
Hence,  the  enhancement  of  vitality  which  artists  or  other  unself- 
conscious  observers  may  receive  from  their  communion  with 
scattered  manifestations  of  Goodness,  Truth,  and  Beauty,  is  in 
his  case  infinitely  increased.  His  uniformly  rapturous  language 
is  alone  enough  to  prove  this.  In  the  contemplative  act,  his 
whole  personality,  directed  by  love  and  will,  transcends  the 
sense-world,  casts  off  its  fetters,  and  rises  to  freedom  :  becoming 
operative  on  those  high  levels  where,  says  Tauler,  "  reason 
cannot  come."  There  it  apprehends  the  supra-sensible  by 
immediate  contact,  and  knows  itself  to  be  in  the  presence  of 
the  "  Supplier  of  true  Life."  Such  Contemplation — such  attain- 
ment of  the  Absolute — is  the  whole  act  of  which  the  visions  of 
poets,  the  intuition  of  philosophers,  give  us  hints. 

It  is  a  brief  act.  The  very  greatest  of  the  contemplatives 
have  been  unable  to  sustain  the  brilliance  of  this  awful  vision 
for  more  than  a  very  little  while.  "  A  flash,"  "  an  instant,"  "  the 
space  of  an  Ave  Maria,"  they  say. 

"  My  mind,"  says  St.  Augustine,  in  his  account  of  his  first 
purely  contemplative  glimpse  of  the  One  Reality,  "  withdrew  its 
thoughts  from  experience,  extracting  itself  from  the  contradic- 
tory throng  of  sensuous  images,  that  it  might  find  out  what  that 
light  was  wherein  it  was  bathed.  .  .  .  And  thus,  with  the  flash 
of  one  hurried  glance,  it  attained  to  the  vision  of  That  Which 
Is.  And  then  at  last  I  saw  Thy  invisible  things  understood  by 
means  of  the  things  that  are  made,  but  I  could  not  sustain  my 
gaze  :  my  weakness  was  dashed  back,  and  I  was  relegated  to 
my  ordinary  experience,  bearing  with  me  only  a  loving  memory, 
and  as  it  were  the  fragrance  of  those  desirable  meats  on  the 
which  as  yet  I  was  not  able  to  feed."  2 

This  fragrance,  as  St.  Augustine  calls  it,  remains  for  ever 
with  those  who  have  thus  been  initiated,  if  only  for  a  moment, 
into  the  atmosphere  of  the  Real :  and  this — the  immortal 
and  indescribable  memory  of  their  communion  with  That 
WhiclKTs — gives  to  their  work  the  perfume  of  the  "  Inviolate 

1  "Etudes  sur  le  Mysticisme,"  p.  370.  z  Aug.  Conf.,  bk.  vii.  cap.  xvii. 


396  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

Rose,"  and  is  the  secret  of  its  magic  power.     But  they  can 
i  never  tell  us  in  exact  and  human  language  what  it  was  that 
they  attained  in  their  ecstatic  flights  towards  the  thought  of 
God :  their  momentary  mergence  in  the  Absolute  Life. 

"  That  Which  Is,"  says  Augustine  ;  "  The  One,"  "  the  Sup- 
plier of  true  Life,"  says  Plotinus  ;  "the  energetic  Word,"  says  St. 
Bernard  ;  "  Eternal  Light,"  says  Dante  ;  "  the  Abyss,"  says  Ruys- 
broeck  ;  "Pure  Love,"  says  St.  Catherine  of  Genoa — poor  symbols 
of  Perfection  at  the  best.  But,  through  and  by  these  oblique 
utterances,  they  give  us  the  far  more  valuable  assurance  that  the 
Object  of  their  discovery  is  one  with  the  object  of  our  quest. 

William  James  has  well  observed  that  "  ineffability "  and 
"  noetic  quality "  are  the  constant  characteristics  of  the  con- 
templative experience.1  Those  who  have  seen  are  quite  con- 
vinced :  those  who  have  not  seen,  can  never  be  told.  There  is 
[no  certitude  to  equal  the  mystic's  certitude:  no  impotence  more 
1  complete  than  that  which  falls  on  those  who  try  to  communicate 
it.  "  Of  these  most  excellent  and  divine  workings  in  the  soul, 
whereby  God  doth  manifest  Himself,"  says  Angela  of  Foligno, 
17 Man  can  in  no  wise  speak  or  even  stammer."2  Over  and  over 
again,  however,  he  has  tried  to  speak  :  and  the  greater  part  of  mys- 
tical literature  is  concerned  with  these  attempts.  Under  a  variety 
of  images,  by  a  deliberate  exploitation  of  the  musical  and  sug- 
gestive qualities  of  words — often,  too,  by  the  help  of  desperate 
paradoxes,  those  unfailing  stimulants  of  man's  intuitive  power 
— he  tries  to  tell  others  somewhat  of  that  veritable  country 
which  "  eye  hath  not  seen."  His  success — partial  though  it  be 
— can  only  be  accounted  for  upon  the  supposition  that  some- 
where within  us  lurks  a  faculty  which  has  known  this  country 
from  its  birth ;  which  dwells  in  it,  partakes  of  Pure  Being,  and 
can  under  certain  conditions  be  stung  to  consciousness.  Then 
"  transcendental  feeling,"  waking  from  its  sleep,  acknowledges 
that  these  explorers  of  the  Infinite  have  really  gazed  upon  the 
secret  plan. 

Now  Contemplation  is  not,  like  meditation,  one  simple  state, 
governed  by  one  set  of  psychic  conditions.  It  is  a  name  for  a 
large  group  of  states,  partly  governed — like  all  other  forms  of 

1  "Varieties  of  Religious  Experience,"  p.  380. 

2  B.  Angelae  de  Fulginio,  M  Visionum  et  Instructionum  Liber,"  cap.  xxvii. 
(English  translation,  p.  189). 


r 


INTROVERSION:   CONTEMPLATION  397 

mystical  activity — by  the  temperament  ot  the  subject,  and 
accompanied  by  feeling-states  which  vary  from  the  extreme 
of  quietude  or  "  peace  in  life  naughted  "  to  the  rapturous  and 
active  love  in  which  "  thought  into  song  is  turned."  Some 
kinds  of  Contemplation  are  inextricably  entwined  with  the 
phenomena  of  "  intellectual  vision  "  and  "  inward  voices."  In 
others  we  find  what  seems  to  be  a  development  of  the  "  Quiet "  : 
a  state  which  the  subject  describes  as  a  blank  absorption,  a 
darkness,  or  " contemplation  in  caligine"  x  Sometimes  the  con- 
templative tells  us  that  he  passes  through  this  darkness  to  the 
light : 2  sometimes  it  seems  to  him  that  he  stays  for  ever  in  the 
"beneficent  dark." 3  In  some  cases  the  soul  says  that  even  in 
the  depths  of  her  absorption,  she  "  knows  her  own  bliss":  in 
others  she  only  becomes  aware  of  it  when  contemplation  is  over 
and  the  surface-intelligence  reassumes  the  reins. 

In  this  welter  of  personal  experiences,  it  becomes  necessary 
to  adopt  some  basis  of  classification,  some  rule  by  which  to 
distinguish  true  Contemplation  from  other  introversive  states. 
Such  a  basis  is  not  easy  to  find.  I  think,  however,  that  there 
are  two  marks  of  the  real  condition  :  (A)  Totality,  and  (B) 
Self-Mergence:  and  these  we  may  safely  use  in  our  attempt 
to  determine  its  character. 

(A)  Whatever  terms  he  may  employ  to  describe  it,  and 
however  faint  or  confused  his  perceptions  may  be,  the  mystic's 
experience  in  Contemplation  is  the  experience  of  the  All.  It  is 
the  Absolute  which  he  has  attained :  not,  as  in  meditation  or 
vision,  some  partial  symbol  or  aspect  thereof. 

(B)  This  attainment  is  brought  about,  this  knowledge  gained, 
by  way  of  participation,  not  by  way  of  observation.  The 
passive  receptivity  of  the  Quiet  is  here  developed  into  an  active, 
outgoing  self-donation.  A  "  give  and  take  " — a  divine  osmosis 
— is  set  up  between  the  finite  and  the  infinite  life.  Not  only 
does  the  Absolute  pour  in  on  the  self,  but  that  self  rushes  out 
willingly  to  lose  itself  in  it.  That  dreadful  consciousness  of  a 
narrow  and  limiting  I -hood  which  dogs  our  search  for  freedom 
and  full  life,  is  done  away.  For  a  moment,  at  least,  the  indepen- 
dent spiritual  life  is  achieved.     The  contemplative  is  merged 

1  Compare  Baker,  "  Holy  Wisdom,"  Treatise  iii.  §  iv.  cap.  iv. 
a  See  Hilton,  "The  Scale  of  Perfection,"  bk.  ii.  cap.  vi. 
3  Vide  infra,  p.  414. 


398  AN   INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

in  it  "  like  a  bird  in  the  air,  like  a  fish  in  the  sea  " :  loses  to  find 
and  dies  to  live. 

"  We  must,"  says  Dionysius  the  Areopagite,  "  contemplate 
/  things  divine  by  our  whole  selves  standing  out  of  our  whole 
selves ;  becoming  wholly  of  God." x  This  is  the  "  passive 
union  "  of  Contemplation  :  a  temporary  condition  in  which  the 
subject  receives  a  double  conviction  of  ineffable  happiness  and 
ultimate  reality.  He  may  try  to  translate  this  conviction  into 
"  something  said  "  or  "  something  seen  "  :  but  in  the  end  he  will 
be  found  to  confess  that  he  can  tell  nothing,  save  by  implication. 
The  essential  fact  is  that  he  was  there  :  as  the  essential  fact  for 
the  returning  exile  is  neither  landscape  nor  language,  but  the 
homely  spirit  of  place. 

"  To  see  and  to  have  seen  that  Vision,"  says  Plotinus  in  one 
of  his  finest  passages,  "  is  reason  no  longer.  It  is  more  than 
reason,  before  reason,  and  after  reason,  as  also  is  the  vision 
which  is  seen.  And  perhaps  we  should  not  here  speak  of  sight : 
for  that  which  is  seen — if  we  must  needs  speak  of  seer  and  seen 
as  two  and  not  one — is  not  discerned  by  the  seer,  nor  perceived 
by  him  as  a  second  thing.  .  .  .  Therefore  this  vision  is  hard  to 
tell  of :  for  how  can  a  man  describe  as  other  than  himself  that 
which,  when  he  discerned  it,  seemed  not  other,  but  one  with 
himself  indeed?"2 

Ruysbroeck,  who  continued  in  the  mediaeval  world  the  best 
traditions  of  Neoplatonic  Mysticism,  also  describes  a  condition 
of  supreme  insight,  a  vision  of  Truth,  obviously  the  same  as 
that  at  which  Plotinus  hints.  "  Contemplation,"  he  says,  "places 
us  in  a  purity  and  a  radiance  which  is  far  above  our  under- 
standing .  .  .  and  none  can  attain  to  it  by  knowledge,  by 
subtlety,  or  by  any  exercise  :  but  he  whom  God  chooses  to  unite 
to  Himself,  and  to  illuminate  by  Himself,  he  and  no  other  can 
contemplate  God.  .  .  .  But  few  men  attain  to  this  divine  con- 
templation, because  of  our  incapacity  and  of  the  hiddenness  of 
that  light  wherein  alone  we  can  contemplate.  And  this  is  why 
none  by  his  own  knowledge,  or  by  subtle  examination,  will  ever 
really  understand  these  things.  For  all  words  and  all  that  one 
can  learn  or  understand  according  to  the  mode  of  the  creatures, 
are  foreign  to  the  truth  that  I  have  seen  and  far  below  it.     But 

1  "  De  Divinis  Nominibus,"  vii.  I. 

2  Ennead  vi.  9, 10. 


INTROVERSION:  CONTEMPLATION  399 

he  who  is  united  to  God,  and  illumined  by  this  truth — he  can 
understand  Truth  by  Truth.1 

This  final,  satisfying  knowledge  of  reality — this  under- 
standing of  Truth  by  Truth — is,  at  bottom,  that  which  all  men 
desire.  The  saint's  thirst  for  God,  the  philosopher's  passion  for 
the  Absolute,  is  nothing  else  than  this  crying  need  of  the  spirit, 
variously  expressed  by  the  intellect  and  by  the  heart.  The 
guesses  of  science,  the  diagrams  of  metaphysics,  the  intuitions 
of  artists  ;  all  are  pressing  towards  this.  Yet  it  is  to  be  found 
of  all  in  the  kingdom  of  the  contemplatives  :  that  "  little  city 
set  on  an  hill "  which  looks  so  small  to  those  outside  its  gates. 

Man's  soul,  says  Hilton,  "  perceiveth  full  well  that  there  is 
somewhat  above  itself  that  it  knoweth  not,  nor  hath  not  yet, 
but  would  have  it,  and  burningly  yearneth  after  it ;  and  that  is 
nought  else  than  the  sight  of  Jerusalem  outwardly,  which  is  like 
to  a  city  which  the  Prophet  Ezechiel  saw  in  his  visions.  He 
saith  that  he  saw  a  city  upon  a  hill  towards  the  south,  that  to 
his  sight  when  it  was  measured  was  no  more  in  length  and 
breadth  than  a  reed,  that  is  six  cubits  and  a  palm  of  length. 
But  as  soon  as  he  was  brought  into  the  city,  and  looked  about 
him,  then  he  saw  that  it  was  wondrous  great,  for  he  saw  many 
halls,  and  chambers  both  open  and  secret ;  he  saw  gates  and 
porches  without  and  within,  and  many  more  buildings  than  I 
now  speak  of,  and  it  was  in  length  and  breadth  many  hundred 
cubits,  that  it  seemed  a  wonder  to  him  that  this  city  was  so  long 
and  so  large  within,  that  seemed  so  little  to  his  sight  when  he 
was  without.  This  city  betokeneth  the  perfect  love  of  God  set 
upon  the  hill  of  Contemplation^  which  to  the  sight  of  a  soul 
that  without  the  feeling  of  it  travelleth  in  desire  towards  it 
seemeth  somewhat,  but  it  seemeth  but  a  little  thing,  no  more 
than  a  rood,  that  is  six  cubits  and  a  palm  in  length.  By  six 
cubits  are  understood  the  perfection  of  man's  work  ;  and  by  the 
palm,  a  little  touch  of  Contemplation.  He  seeth  well  that  there 
is  such  a  thing  that  passeth  the  deservings  of  all  the  workings 
of  man,  like  as  a  palm  is  surpassed  by  six  cubits,  but  he  seeth 
not  within  what  it  is ;  yet  if  he  can  come  within  the  city  of 
Conte7nplation,  then  seeth  he  much  more  than  at  first."2 

As  in  the  case  of  vision,   so  here  all  that  we  who  "  with- 

1  Ruysbroeck,  "  L'Ornement  des  Noces  Spirituelles,"  1.  iii.  cap.  i. 

2  "  The  Scale  of  Perfection,"  bk.  ii.  cap.  vi. 


400  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

out  the  feeling  travel  in  desire"  can  really  know  concerning 
Contemplation — its  value  for  life,  the  knowledge  it  confers — 
must  come  from  those  who  have  "  come  within  the  city  "  :  have, 
in  the  metaphor  of  Plotinus,  "  taken  flight  towards  the  Thought 
of  God."  What,  in  effect,  can  they  tell  us  about  the  knowledge 
of  reality  which  they  attained  in  that  brief  communion  with 
the  Absolute  ? 

They  tell  us  chiefly,  when  we  come  to  collate  their  evidence, 
two  apparently  contradictory  things.  They  speak,  almost  in 
the  same  breath,  of  an  exceeding  joy,  a  Beatific  Vision,  an 
intense  communion,  and  a  "loving  sight "  :  and  of  an  exceeding 
emptiness,  a  barren  desert,  an  unfathomable  Abyss,  a  nescience, 
a  Divine  Dark. 

Over  and  over  again  these  two  pairs  of  opposites  occur  in  all 
first-hand  descriptions  of  pure  contemplation  :  Remoteness  and 
Intimacy,  Darkness  and  Light.  Bearing  in  mind  that  these  four 
groups  of  symbols  all  describe  the  same  process  seen  "  through 
a  temperament,"  and  represent  the  reaction  of  that  temperament 
upon  Absolute  Reality,  we  may  perhaps  by  their  comparison 
obtain  some  faint  idea  of  the  indescribable  Somewhat  at  which 
they  hint. 

Note  first  that  the  emotional  accompaniments  of  his  per- 
ceptions will  always  and  necessarily  be  the  stuff  from  which 
the  mystic  draws  suggestive  language  by  which  to  hint  at  his 
experience  of  supernal  things.  His  descriptions  will  always 
lean  to  the  impressionistic  rather  than  to  the  scientific  side. 
The  "  deep  yet  dazzling  darkness,"  the  "  unfathomable  abyss," 
the  Cloud  of  Unknowing,  the  "  embrace  of  the  Beloved,"  all 
represent,  not  the  Transcendent  but  his  relation  with  the  Tran- 
scendent :  not  an  object  observed  but  an  overwhelming  impres- 
sion felt,  by  the  totality  of  his  being  during  his  communion  with 
a  Reality  which  is  One. 

It  is  not  fair,  however,  to  regard  Contemplation  on  this 
account  as  pre-eminently  a  "  feeling  state,"  and  hence  attribute 
to  it,  as  many  modern  writers  do,  a  merely  subjective  validity. 
It  is,  of  course,  accompanied,  as  all  humanity's  supreme  and 
vital  acts  are  accompanied,  by  feelings  of  an  exalted  kind  :  and 
since  such  emotions  are  the  least  abnormal  part  of  it,  they  are 
the  part  which  the  subject  finds  easiest  to  describe.  These 
elusive  combinations  of  Fear,  Amazement,  Desire,  and  Joy  are 


V     01 


INTROVERSION:   CONTEMPLATION  401 

more  or  less  familiar  to  him.  The  accidents  of  sensual  life  have 
developed  them.  His  language  contains  words  which  are 
capable  of  suggesting  them  to  other  men.  But  his  total 
experience  transcends  mere  feeling,  just  as  it  transcends  mere 
intellect.  It  is  a  complete  act  of  perception,  inexpressible  by 
these  departmental  words :  and  its  agent  is  the  whole  man,  the 
indivisible  personality  whose  powers  and  nature  are  only 
partially  hinted  at  in  such  words  as  Love,  Thought,  or  Will. 

The  plane  of  consciousness,  however— the  objective  some- 
what— of  which  this  personality  becomes  aware  in  contempla- 
tion, is  not  familiar  to  it ;  neither  is  it  related  to  its  systems  of 
thought.  Man,  accustomed  to  dwell  amongst  spatial  images 
adapted  to  the  needs  of  daily  life,  has  no  language  that  will  fit 
it  at  all.  So,  a  person  hearing  for  the  first  time  some  master- 
piece of  classical  music,  would  have  no  language  in  which  to 
describe  it  objectively  ;  but  could  only  tell  us  how  it  made  him 
feel.  This  is  one  reason  why  feeling-states  seem  to  preponderate 
in  all  descriptions  of  the  mystic  act.  Earthly  emotions  provide 
a  parallel  which  enables  the  subject  to  tell  us  by  implication 
something  of  that  which  he  felt :  but  he  cannot  tell  us — for 
want  of  standards  of  comparison — what  it  was  that  induced  him 
thus  to  feel.  His  best  efforts  to  fit  words  to  this  elusive  some- 
what generally  result  in  the  evaporation  alike  of  its  fragrance 
and  of  its  truth.  As  St.  Augustine  said  of  Time,  he  knows  what 
it  is  until  he  is  asked  to  define  it. 

How  symbolic  and  temperamental  is  all  verbal  description 
of  mystical  activity,  may  be  seen  by  the  aspect  which  contempla- 
tion takes  in  the  music-loving  soul  of  Richard  Rolle  ;  who 
always  found  his  closest  parallels  with  Reality,  not  in  the 
concepts  of  intimate  union,  or  of  self-loss  in  the  Divine  Abyss, 
but  in  the  idea  of  the  soul's  participation  in  a  supernal  harmony 
— that  sweet  minstrelsy  of  God  in  which  "  thought  into  song  is 
turned." 

"  To  me,"  he  says,  "  it  seems  that  contemplation  is  joyful 
song  of  God's  love  taken  in  mind,  with  sweetness  of  angels' 
loving.  This  is  jubilation,  that  is  the  end  of  perfect  prayer  and 
high  devotion  in  this  life.  This  is  that  mirth  in  mind,  had 
ghostily  by  the  lover  everlastingly,  with  great  voice  out- 
breaking. ....  Contemplative  sweetness  not  without  full  great 
labour  is  gotten,  and  with  joy  untold  it  is  possessed.     Forsooth, 

DD 


402  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

it  is  not  man's  merit  but  God's  gift ;  and  yet  from  the  beginning 
to  this  day  never  might  man  be  ravished  in  contemplation  of 
Love  Everlasting,  but  if  he  before  parfitely  all  the  world's  vanity 
had  forsaken."  l 

We  must,  then,  be  prepared  to  accept,  sift,  and  use  many 
different  descriptions  of  evoked  emotion  in  the  course  of  our 
enquiry  into  the  nature  of  the  contemplative's  perceptions  of  the 
Absolute.  We  find  on  analysis  that  these  evoked  emotions 
separate  themselves  easily  into  two  groups.  Further,  these  two 
groups  answer  to  the  two  directions  in  which  the  mystic 
consciousness  of  Reality  is  extended,  and  to  the  pairs  of 
descriptions  of  the  Godhead  which  we  have  found  throughout 
to  be  characteristic  of  mystical  literature  :  i.e.,  the  personal  and 
spatial,  immanental  and  transcendental,  indwelling  Life  and 
Unconditioned  Source :  (a)  the  strange,  dark,  unfathomable 
Abyss  of  Pure  Being  always  dwelt  upon  by  mystics  of  the 
metaphysical  type,  and  {b)  the  divine  and  loved  Companion 
of  the  soul  whose  presence  is  so  sharply  felt  by  those  selves 
which  lean  to  the  concept  of  Divine  Personality. 

A.  The  Contemplation  of  Transcendence. — The  first  group 
of  feeling-states,  allied  to  those  which  emphasize  the 
theological  idea  of  Divine  Transcendence,  is  born  of  the 
mystic's  sense  of  his  own  littleness,  unworthiness,  and  in- 
curable ignorance  in  comparison  with  the  ineffable  greatness 
of  the  Absolute  Godhead  which  he  has  perceived,  and  in 
which  he  desires  to  lose  himself:  of  the  total  and  incom- 
municable difference  in  kind  between  the  Divine  and  everything 
else.  Awe  and  self-abasement  and  the  paradoxical  passion  for 
self-loss  in  the  All,  here  govern  his  emotional  state.  All 
affirmative  statements  seem  to  him  blasphemous,  so  far  are  they 
from  an  ineffable  truth  which  is  "more  than  reason,  before 
reason,  and  after  reason."  To  this  group  of  feelings,  which 
.usually  go  with  an  instinctive  taste  for  Neoplatonism,  an  icono- 
clastic distrust  of  personal  imagery,  we  owe  all  negative 
descriptions  of  supreme  Reality.  For  this  type  of  self  God 
is  the  Unconditioned,  for  whom  we  have  no  words,  and  whom 
all  our  poor  symbols  insult.  To  see  Him  is  to  enter  the  Dark- 
ness, the  "  Cloud  of  Unknowing,"  and  "  know  only  that  we  know 
nought."  Nothing  else  can  satisfy  this  exaggerated  spiritual 
x  Richard  Rolle,  "  The  Mending  of  Life,"  cap.  xii. 


INTROVERSION:  CONTEMPLATION  403 

humility,  which  easily  degenerates  into  that  subtle  form  of 
pride  which  refuses  to  acquiesce  in  its  own  limitations. 

"There  is  none  other  God  but  He  that  none  may  know, 
which  may  not  be  known,"  says  this  contemplative  soul.  "  No, 
soothly,  no !  Without  fail,  No,  says  she.  He  only  is  my  God 
that  none  can  one  word  of  say,  nor  all  they  of  Paradise  one 
only  point  attain  nor  understand,  for  all  the  knowing  that  they 
have  of  Him." 1 

When  they  tried  very  hard  to  be  geographically  exact,  to 
define  and  describe  their  apprehension  of  and  contact  with  the 
Unconditioned  One,  who  is  the  only  Country  of  the  Soul, 
contemplatives  of  this  type  became,  like  their  great  master  the 
Areopagite,  impersonal  and  remote.  They  seem  to  have  been 
caught  up  to  some  measureless  height,  where  the  air  is  too 
rarefied  for  the  lungs  of  common  men.  When  we  ask  them  the 
nature  of  the  life  on  these  summits,  they  are  compelled  as  a  rule 
to  adopt  the  Dionysian  concept  of  Divine  Darkness,  or  the 
parallel  idea  of  the  fathomless  Abyss,  the  Desert  of  the  Godhead, 
the  Eckhartian  "still  wilderness  where  no  one   is   at  home." 

Oddly  enough,  it  is  in  their  language  concerning  this  place 
or  plane  of  reality,  in  which  union  with  the  Super-essential  God- 
head takes  place — this  "  lightsome  darkness  and  rich  nought " — 
that  they  come  nearer  to  distinct  affirmation,  and  consequently 
offer  more  surprises  to  sentimental  and  popular  piety,  than  in 
any  other  department  of  their  work.  Unquestionably  this 
language,  these  amazing  tidings  of  a  "  still  desert,"  a  "  vast  sea," 
an"unplumbed  abyss"  in  which  the " emptiness,"  the  "nothing," 
the  "  Dark  "  on  which  the  self  entered  in  the  Orison  of  Quiet  is 
infinitely  increased,  yet  positive  satisfaction  is  at  last  attained, 
does  correspond  with  a  definite  psychological  experience.  It  is 
not  merely  the  convention  of  a  school.  These  descriptions, 
incoherent  as  they  are,  have  a  strange  note  of  certainty,  a  stranger 
note  of  passion,  an  odd  realism  of  their  own  :  which  mean, 
wherever  we  meet  them,  that  experience  not  tradition  is  their 
source. 

Driven  of  necessity  to  a  negation  of  all  that  their  surface- 
minds  have  ever  known — with  language,  strained  to  the 
uttermost,  failing  them  at  every  turn— these  contemplatives  are 
still  able  to  communicate  to  us  a  definite  somewhat,  news  as  to 

1  "  The  Mirror  of  Simple  Souls,"  cap.  iii. 


404  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

a  given  and  actual  Reality,  an  unchanging  Absolute ;  and  a 
beatific  union  with  it,  most  veritably  attained.  They  agree  in 
their  accounts  of  it,  in  a  way  which  makes  it  obvious  that  all 
these  reporters  have  sojourned  in  the  same  land,  and  experienced 
the  same  spiritual  state.  Moreover,  our  own  inmost  minds  bear 
witness  for  them.  We  meet  them  half-way.  We  know  in- 
stinctively and  irrefutably  that  they  tell  true  ;  and  they  rouse  in 
us  a  passionate  nostalgia,  a  bitter  sense  of  exile  and  of  loss. 

One  and  all,  these  explorers  of  the  Infinite  fly  to  language 
expressive  of  great  and  boundless  spaces.  In  their  withdrawal 
from  the  busy,  fretful  sense-world  they  have  sunk  down  to  the 
"ground"  of  the  soul  and  of  the  universe:  Being,  the  Substance 
of  all  that  Is.  Multiplicity  is  resolved  into  Unity  :  a  unity  with 
which  the  perceiving  self  is  merged.  Thus  the  mystic,  for  the 
time  of  this  "  union  with  the  Divine,"  does  find  himself,  in 
Tauler's  words,  to  be  "  simply  in  God." 

"  The  great  wastes  to  be  found  in  this  divine  ground,"  says 
that  great  master,  "  have  neither  image  nor  form  nor  condition, 
for  they  are  neither  here  nor  there.  They  are  like  unto  a 
fathomless  Abyss,  bottomless  and  floating  in  itself.  Even  as 
water  ebbs  and  flows,  up  and  down,  now  sinking  into  a  hollow, 
so  that  it  looks  as  if  there  were  no  water  there,  and  then  again 
in  a  little  while  rushing  forth  as  if  it  would  engulf  everythingf 
so  does  it  come  to  pass  in  this  Abyss.  This,  truly,  is  much 
more  God's  Dwelling-place  than  heaven  or  man.  A  man  who 
verily  desires  to  enter  will  surely  find  God  here,  and  himself 
simply  in  God  ;  for  God  never  separates  Himself  from  this 
ground.  God  will  be  present  with  him,  and  he  will  find  and 
enjoy  Eternity  here.  There  is  no  past  nor  present  here,  and 
no  created  light  can  reach  unto  or  shine  into  this  divine 
Ground ;  for  here  only  is  the  dwelling-place  of  God  and  His 
sanctuary. 

"  Now  this  Divine  Abyss  can  be  fathomed  by  no  creatures  ;  it 
can  be  filled  by  none,  and  it  satisfies  none  ;  God  only  can  fill  it 
in  His  Infinity.  For  this  abyss  belongs  only  to  the  Divine 
Abyss,  of  which  it  is  written :  Abyssus  abyssum  invocat.  He 
who  is  truly  conscious  of  this  ground,  which  shone  into  the 
powers  of  his  soul,  and  lighted  and  inclined  its  lowest  and 
highest  powers  to  turn  to  their  pure  Source  and  true  Origin, 
must  diligently  examine  himself,  and  remain  alone,  listening  to 


INTROVERSION:  CONTEMPLATION  405 

the  voice  which  cries  in  the  wilderness  of  this  ground.  This 
ground  is  so  desert  and  bare,  that  no  thought  has  ever  entered 
there.  None  of  all  the  thoughts  of  man  which,  with  the  help  of 
reason,  have  been  devoted  to  meditation  on  the  Holy  Trinity 
(and  some  men  have  occupied  themselves  much  with  these 
{  thoughts)  have  ever  entered  this  ground.  For  it  is  so  close  and 
'yet  so  far  off,  and  so  far  beyond  all  things,  that  it  has  neither 
time  nor  place.  It  is  a  simple  and  unchanging  condition. 
A  man  who  really  and  truly  enters,  feels  as  though  he  had 
been  here  throughout  eternity,  and  as  though  he  were  one 
therewith."  » 

Many  other  mystics  have  written  to  the  same  effect :  have 
described  with  splendour  the  ineffable  joys  and  terrors  of  the 
Abyss  of  Being  "  where  man  existed  in  God  from  all  Eternity," 
the  soul's  adventures  when,  "  stripped  of  its  very  life,"  it  "  sails 
the  wild  billows  of  the  sea  divine."  But  their  words  merely 
amaze  the  outsider  and  give  him  little  information.  The  con- ! 
templative  self  who  has  attained  this  strange  country  can  only 
tell  an  astonished  and  incredulous  world  that  here  his  greatest  \ 
deprivation  is  also  his  greatest  joy ;  that  here  the  extremes  of 
possession  and  surrender  are  the  same,  that  ignorance  and 
knowledge,  light  and  dark,  are  One.  Love  has  led  him  into  that 
timeless,  spaceless  world  of  Being  which  is  the  peaceful  ground, 
not  only  of  the  individual  striving  spirit,  but  also  of  the  striving 
universe  ;  and  he  can  but  cry  with  Philip,  "It  is  enough" 

"  Here,"  says  Maeterlinck,  "  we  stand  suddenly  at  the  con- 
fines of  human  thought,  and  far  beyond  the  Polar  circle  of  the 
mind.  It  is  intensely  cold  here ;  it  is  intensely  dark  ;  and  yet 
you  will  find  nothing  but  flames  and  light.  But  to  those  who 
come  without  having  trained  their  souls  to  these  new  per- 
ceptions, this  light  and  these  flames  are  as  dark  and  as  cold  as 
if  they  were  painted.  Here  we  are  concerned  with  the  most 
exact  of  sciences  :  with  the  exploration  of  the  harshest  and 
most  uninhabitable  headlands  of  the  divine  'Know  thyself: 
and  the  midnight  sun  reigns  over  that  rolling  sea  where  the 
psychology  of  man  mingles  with  the  psychology  of  God."  2 

On  one  hand  "  flames  and  light " — the  flame  of  living  love 

1  Tauler,  Sermon  on  St.  John  the  Baptist  ("  The  Inner  Way,"  pp.  97-99). 

2  Maeterlinck,     Introduction     to     Ruysbroeck's     "  L'Ornement     des      Noces 
Spirituelles,"  p.  v. 


406  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

which  fills  the  universe — on  the  other  the  "  quiet  desert  of 
Godhead,"  the  Divine  Dark.  Under  these  two  types,  one 
affirmative,  one  negative,  resumed  in  his  most  daring  paradox, 
nearly  the  whole  of  man's  contemplative  experience  of  the 
Absolute  can  be  and  is  expressed.  We  have  considered  his 
negative  description  of  Utmost  Transcendence  :  that  confession 
of "  divine  ignorance "  which  is  a  higher  form  of  knowledge. 
But  this  is  balanced,  in  a  few  elect  spirits,  by  a  positive  contem- 
plation of  truth,  an  ecstatic  apprehension  of  the  "  secret  plan." 
Certain  rare  mystics  seem  able  to  describe  to  us  a  Beatific 
Vision  experienced  here  and  now :  a  knowledge  by  contact  of 
the  Flaming  Heart  of  Reality  which  includes  in  one  great 
whole  the  planes  of  Being  and  Becoming,  the  •*  fixed  point  of 
Deity,"  the  Eternal  Father,  and  His  manifestation  in  the 
"  energetic  Word."  We  saw  something  of  this  power,  which  is 
characteristic  of  mystical  genius  of  a  high  order,  when  we 
studied  the  characteristics  of  Illumination.  Its  finest  literary 
expression  is  found  in  that  passage  of  the  "Paradiso"  where 
Dante  tells  us  how  he  pierced,  for  an  instant,  the  secret  of  the 
Empyrean.  Already  he  had  enjoyed  a  symbolic  vision  of 
two-fold  Reality,  as  the  moving  River  of  Light  and  the  still 
white  Rose.1  Now  these  two  aspects  vanished,  and  he  saw 
the  One. 

".  .  .la  mia  vista,  venendo  sincera, 

e  piu  e  piu  entrava  per  lo  raggio 

dell'  alta  luce,  che  da  se  e  vera. 
Da  quinci  innanzi  il  mio  veder  fu  maggio 

che  il  parlar  nostro  ch'  a  tal  vista  cede, 

e  cede  la  memoria  a  tanto  oltraggio. 
Qual  e  colui  che  somniando  vede, 

che  dopo  il  sogno  la  passione  impressa 

rimane,  e  1'  altro  alia  mente  non  riede  ; 
Cotal  son  io,  che  quasi  tutta  cessa 

mia  visione,  ed  ancor  mi  distilla 

nel  cor  lo  dolce  che  nacque  da  essa. 
*  *  *  * 

Io  credo,  per  1*  acume  ch'  io  soffersi 

del  vivo  raggio,  ch'  io  sarei  smarrito, 

se  gli  occhi  miei  da  lui  fossero  aversi. 
E  mi  ricorda  ch'  io  fui  piu  ardito 

per  questo  a  sostener  tanto  ch'  io  giunsi 

1'  aspetto  mio  col  Valor  infinite 


Par.  xxx.  61-128.     Compare  p.  343. 


INTROVERSION:  CONTEMPLATION  407 

Cosl  la  mente  mia,  tutta  sospesa, 

mirava  fissa,  immobile  ed  attenta, 

e  sempre  del  mirar  faceasi  accesa. 
A  quella  luce  cotal  si  diventa, 

che  volgersi  da  lei  per  altro  aspetto 

e  impossibil  che  mai  si  consenta. 
Pero  che  il  Ben,  ch'  e  del  volere  obbietto, 

tutto  s'accoglie  in  lei,  e  fuor  di  quella 

e  difettevo  cio  che  li'  e  perfetto. " x 

Intermediate  between  the  Dantesque  apprehension  of  Eter- 
nal Reality  and  the  contemplative  communion  with  Divine 
Personality,  is  the  type  of  mystic  whose  perceptions  of  the 
supra-sensible  are  neither  wholly  personal  nor  wholly  cosmic 
and  transcendental  in  type.  To  him,  God  is  pre-eminently  the 
Perfect — Goodness,  Truth,  and  Beauty,  Light,  Life,  and  Love — 
discovered  in  a  moment  of  lucidity  at  the  very  door  of  the 
seeking  self.  Here  the  symbols  under  which  He  is  perceived 
are  still  the  abstractions  of  philosophy  :  but  in  the  hands  of  the 
mystic  these  terms  cease  to  be  abstract,  are  stung  to  life. 
Such  contemplatives  preserve  the  imageless  and  ineffable  char- 
acter of  the  Absolute,  but  are  moved  by  its  contemplation  to  a 
joyous  and  personal  love. 

Thus  "  upon  a  certain  time,"  says  Angela  of  Foligno,  "  when 
I  was  at  prayer  and  my  spirit  was  exalted,  God  spake  unto  me 
many  gracious  words  full  of  love.  And  when  I  looked  I  beheld 
God  who  spake  with  me.  But  if  thou  seekest  to  know  that 
which  I  beheld,  I  can  tell  thee  nothing,  save  that  I  beheld  a 
fullness  and  a  clearness,  and  felt  them  within  me  so  abundantly 
that  I  can  in  no  wise  describe  it,  nor  give  any  likeness  thereof. 

1  Par.  xxxiii.  52-63,  76-81,  97-105.  "  My  vision,  becoming  purified,  entered 
deeper  and  deeper  into  the  ray  ot  that  Supernal  Light  which  in  itself  is  true. 
Thenceforth  my  vision  was  greater  than  our  language,  which  fails  such  a  sight ;  and 
memory  too  fails  before  such  excess.  As  he  who  sees  in  a  dream,  and  after  the 
dream  is  gone  the  impression  or  emotion  remains,  but  the  rest  returns  not  to  the 
mind,  such  am  I  :  for  nearly  the  whole  of  my  vision  fades,  and  yet  there  still  wells 
within  my  heart  the  sweetness  born  therefrom.  ...  I  think  that  by  the  keenness  01 
the  living  ray  which  I  endured  I  had  been  lost,  had  I  once  turned  my  eyes  aside. 
And  I  remember  that  for  this  I  was  the  bolder  so  long  to  sustain  myjgaze,  as  to  unite 
it  with  the  Power  Infinite.  .  .  .  Thus  did  my  mind,  wholly  in  suspense,  gaze  fixedly, 
immovable  and  intent,  ever  enkindled  by  its  gazing.  In  the  presence  of  that  Light 
one  becomes  such,  that  never  could  one  consent  to  turn  from  it  to  any  other  sight. 
Because  the  Good,  which  is  the  object  of  the  will,  is  therein  wholly  gathered  ;  and 
outside  of  this,  that  is  defective  which  therein  is  perfect." 


408  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

For  what  I  beheld  was  not  corporal  but  as  though  it  were  in 
heaven.  Thus  I  beheld  a  beauty  so  great  that  I  can  say  nought 
concerning  it,  save  that  I  saw  the  supreme  Beauty  which  con- 
taineth  within  itself  all  of  Good."  Again,  "  I  beheld  the  in- 
effable fullness  of  God :  but  I  can  relate  nothing  of  it,  save  that 
I  have  seen  the  plenitude  of  Divine  Wisdom  wherein  is  all 
Goodness."  x 

B.  The  Contemplation  of  Immanence. — The  second  group  of 
contemplatives  is  governed  by  that  "Love  which  casteth  out 
fear " :  by  a  predominating  sense  of  the  nearness,  intimacy, 
and  sweetness,  rather  than  the  strangeness  and  unattainable 
transcendence  of  that  same  Infinite  Life  at  whose  being 
the  first  group  could  only  hint  by  amazing  images  which 
seem  to  be  borrowed  from  the  poetry  of  metaphysics. 
They  are,  says  Hilton,  in  a  lovely  image,  "  Feelingly  fed  with 
the  savour  of  His  invisible  blessed  Face."  2  All  the  feelings 
which  flow  from  joy,  confidence,  and  affection,  rather  than  those 
which  are  grouped  about  rapture  and  awe — though  awe  is 
always  present  in  some  measure,  as  it  is  always  present  in  all 
perfect  love — here  contribute  towards  a  description  of  the  Truth. 

These  contemplatives  tell  us  of  their  attainment  of  That 
which  Is,  as  the  closest  and  most  joyous  of  all  communions  ;  a 
coming  of  the  Bridegroom ;  a  rapturous  immersion  in  the 
Uncreated  Light.  "  Nothing  more  profitable,  nothing  merrier 
than  grace  of  contemplation  ! "  cries  Rolle,  "  that  lifts  us  from 
this  low  and  offers  to  God.  What  is  grace  of  contemplation  but 
beginning  of  joy?  what  is  parfiteness  of  joy  but  grace  con- 
firmed ?  "  3 

In  such  "bright  contemplation  "  as  this,  says  the  "  Mirror  of 
Simple  Souls,"  "  the  soul  is  full  gladsome  and  jolly."  Utter  peace 
and  wild  delight :  every  pleasure-state  known  to  man's  normal 
consciousness,  is  inadequate  to  the  description  of  her  joy. 
She  has  participated  for  an  instant  in  the  Divine  Life  :  knows 
all,  and  knows  nought.  She  has  learnt  the  world's  secret,  not 
by  knowing,  but  by  being  :  the  only  way  of  really  knowing 
anything. 

1  B.  Angelae  de  Fulginio,  "Visionum  et  Instructionum  Liber,"  caps.  xxi.  and 
xxiii.  (English  translation,  pp.  169,  174)* 

a  "The  Scale  of  Perfection,"  bk.  iii.  cap.  xL 
3  "The  Mending  of  Life,"  cap.  xii. 


INTROVERSION:   CONTEMPLATION  409 

Where  the  dominant  emotion  is  that  of  intimate  affection  : 
and  where  the  training  or  disposition  of  the  mystic  inclines  him 
to  emphasize  the  personal  and  Incarnational  rather  than  the 
abstract  and  Trinitarian  side  of  Christianity,  the  contemplative 
of  this  type  will  always  tend  to  describe  his  secret  to  us  as 
above  all  things  an  experience  of  adorable  Friendship.  Reality 
is  for  him  a  Person,  not  a  State.  In  the  "  orison  of  union  "  it 
seems  to  him  that  an  absolute  communion,  a  merging  of  his  self 
with  this  other  and  strictly  personal  Self  takes  place.  "  God," 
he  says,  then  "  meets  the  soul  in  her  Ground  "  :  i.e.,  in  that 
world  of  Pure  Being  to  which,  by  divine  right,  she  belongs. 
Clearly,  the  "  degree  of  contemplation,"  the  psychological  state, 
is  here  the  same  as  that  in  which  the  mystic  of  the  impersonal 
type  attained  the  "Abyss."  But  from  the  point  of  view  of 
the  subject  this  joyful  and  personal  encounter  of  Lover  and 
Beloved  will  be  a  very  different  experience  from  the  soul's 
immersion  in  that  "  desert  of  Deity,"  as  described  by  Eckhart 
and  his  school.  "  In  this  oning,"  says  Hilton,  "  consisteth  the 
marriage  which  passeth  betwixt  God  and  the  soul,  that  shall 
never  be  dissolved  or  broken."  x 

St.  Teresa  is  the  classic  example  of  this  intimate  and 
affective  type  of  contemplation :  but  St.  Gertrude,  Suso, 
Julian,  Mechthild  of  Magdeburg,  and  countless  others,  provide 
instances  of  its  operation.  We  owe  to  it  all  the  most  beauti- 
ful and  touching  expressions  of  mystic  love. 

Julian's  "  I  saw  Him  and  sought  Him  :  and  I  had  Him, 
I  wanted  Him  "  expresses  in  epigram  its  combination  of  rap- 
turous attainment  and  insatiable  desire :  its  apprehension  of 
a  Presence  at  once  friendly  and  divine.  So  too  does  her 
description  of  the  Tenth  Revelation  of  Love  when  "  with  this 
sweet  enjoying  He  showed  unto  mine  understanding  in  part 
the  blessed  Godhead,  stirring  then  the  poor  soul  to  understand, 
as  it  may  be  said,  that  is,  to  think  on  the  endless  Love  that 
was  without  beginning,  and  is,  and  shall  be  ever.  And  with 
this  our  good  Lord  said  full  blissfully,  Lo,  how  that  I  loved 
thee,  as  if  He  had  said,  My  darling,  behold  and  see  thy  Lord, 
thy  God  that  is  thy  Maker,  and  thine  endless  joy"  2 

"  The   eyes    of   my    soul    were    opened,"    says    Angela    of 

1  "The  Scale  of  Perfection,"  bk.  i.  pt.  i.  cap.  viii. 
8  "Revelations  of  Divine  Love,"  cap.  xxiv. 


410  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

Foligno,  "  and  I  beheld  love  advancing  gently  towards  me,  and 
I  beheld  the  beginning  but  not  the  end.  Unto  me  there 
seemed  only  a  continuation  and  eternity  thereof,  so  that  I 
can  describe  neither  likeness  nor  colour,  but  immediately 
that  this  love  reached  me,  I  did  behold  all  these  things  more 
clearly  with  the  eyes  of  the  soul  then  I  could  do  with  the 
eyes  of  the  body.  This  love  came  towards  me  ,  after  the 
manner  of  a  sickle.  Not  that  there  was  any  actual  and 
measurable  likeness,  but  when  first  it  appeared  unto  me  it 
did  not  give  itself  unto  me  in  such  abundance  as  I  expected, 
but  part  of  it  was  withdrawn.  Therefore  do  I  say  after  the 
manner  of  a  sickle.  Then  was  I  filled  with  love  and 
inestimable  satiety." x 

It  is  to  Mechthild  of  Magdeburg,  whose  contemplation 
was  emphatically  of  the  intimate  type,  that  we  owe  the  most 
perfect  definition  of  this  communion  of  the  mystic  with  his 
Friend.  "  Orison,"  she  says,  "  draws  the  great  God  down 
into  the  small  heart:  it  drives  the  hungry  soul  out  to  the 
full  God.  It  brings  together  the  two  lovers,  God  and  the 
soul,  into  a  joyful  room  where  they  speak  much  of  love."2 

We  have  already  seen  that  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity 
makes  it  possible  for  Christian  mystics,  and,  still  more,  for 
Christian  mysticism  as  a  whole,  to  reconcile  this  way  of 
apprehending  reality  with  the  "  negative "  and  impersonal 
perception  of  the  ineffable  One,  the  Absolute  which  "  hath 
no  image."  Though  they  seem  in  their  extreme  forms  to  be 
so  sharply  opposed  as  to  justify  Eckhart's  celebrated  dis- 
tinction between  the  unknowable  totality  of  the  Godhead 
and  the  knowable  personality  of  God,  the  "image"  and  the 
"  circle "  are  yet  aspects  of  one  thing.  Instinctive  monists  as 
they  are,  all  the  mystics  feel — and  the  German  school  in 
particular  have  expressed — Dante's  conviction  that  these  two 
aspects  of  reality,  these  two  planes  of  being,  however  widely 
they  seem  to  differ,  are  One.z  Both  are  ways  of  describing 
that  Absolute  Truth,  "  present  yet  absent,  near,  yet  far,"  that 
Triune  Fact,  di  tre  colori  e  cT  una  continenza,  which  is  God. 
Both  are  necessary  if  we  are  to  form  any  idea  of  that  com- 

:  B.  Angelae  de  Fulginio,  op.  cit.,  cap.  xxv.  (English  translation,  p.   178). 
*  "Das  Fliessende  Licht  der  Gottheit,"  pt.  v.  cap.   13. 
3  Par.  xxxiii.  137. 


INTROVERSION:   CONTEMPLATION  411 

plete  Reality :  as,  when  two  men  go  together  to  some 
undiscovered  country,  one  will  bring  home  news  of  its  great 
spaces,  its  beauty  of  landscape,  another  of  its  geological 
formation,  or  the  flora  and  fauna  that  express  its  life ;  and 
both  must  be  taken  into  account  before  any  just  estimate 
of  the  real  country  can  be  made. 

Since  it  is  of  the  essence  of  the  Christian  religion  to 
combine  personal  and  metaphysical  truth,  a  transcendent 
and  an  immanent  God,1  it  is  not  surprising  that  we  should 
find  in  Christianity  a  philosophic  and  theological  basis  for 
this  paradox  of  the  contemplative  experience.  Most  often, 
though  not  always,  the  Christian  mystic  identifies  the  personal 
and  intimate  Lover  of  the  soul,  of  whose  elusive  presence 
he  is  so  sharply  aware,  with  the  person  of  Christ ;  the  un- 
knowable and  transcendent  Godhead  with  that  eterna  luce, 
"  the  Undifferentiated  One  in  Whom  the  Trinity  of  Persons 
is  resumed. 

Temperamentally,  most  practical  contemplatives  lean  to 
either  one  or  other  of  these  apprehensions  of  Reality :  to  a 
personal  and  immanental  meeting  in  the  "ground  of  the 
soul,"  or  to  the  austere  joys  of  the  "  naughted  soul "  abased 
before  an  impersonal  Transcendence  which  no  language  but 
that  of  negation  can  define.  In  some,  however,  both  types 
of  perception  seem  to  exist  together :  and  they  speak  alter- 
natively of  light  and  darkness,  of  the  rapturous  encounter 
with  Love  and  of  supreme  self-loss  in  the  naked  Abyss ; 
the  desert  of  the  essence  of  God.  Ruysbroeck  is  the  perfect 
example  of  this  type  of  contemplative ;  and  his  works  con- 
tain numerous  and  valuable  passages  descriptive  of  that 
synthetic  experience  which  resumes  the  personal  and  tran- 
scendental aspects  of  the  mystic  fact. 

"  When  we  have  become  Voyant"  he  says — that  is  to  say, 
when  we  have  attained  to  spiritual  lucidity — "we  are  able  to 
contemplate  in  joy  the  eternal  coming  of  the  Bridegroom  ;  and 
this  is  the  second  point  on  which  I  would  speak.  What,  then, 
is  this  eternal  coming  of  our  Bridegroom  ?  It  is  a  perpetual 
new  birth  and  a  perpetual  new  illumination :  for  the  ground 
whence  the  Light  shines  and  which  is  Itself  the  Light,  is  living 
and  fruitful :  and  hence  the  manifestation  of  the  Eternal  Light 

1  Compare  supra,  Pt.  I.   Cap  V. 


412  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

is  renewed  without  interruption  in  the  most  secret  part  of  our 
souls.  Behold  !  all  human  works  and  active  virtues  are  here 
transcended  ;  for  God  discloses  Himself  only  at  the  apex  of  the 
soul.  Here  there  is  nought  else  but  an  eternal  contemplation 
of,  and  dwelling  upon  the  Light,  by  the  Light  and  in  the  Light. 
And  the  coming  of  the  Bridegroom  is  so  swift,  that  He  comes 
perpetually,  and  He  dwells  within  us  with  His  abysmal  riches, 
and  He  returns  to  us  as  it  were  anew  in  His  Person,  with  such 
new  radiance,  that  He  seems  never  to  have  come  to  us  before. 
For  His  coming  consists,  outside  all  Time,  in  an  Eternal  Now> 
always  welcomed  with  new  desires  and  with  new  Joys.  Behold! 
the  delights  and  the  joys  which  this  Bridegroom  brings  in  His 
coming  are  fathomless  and  limitless,  for  they  are  Himself:  and 
this  is  why  the  eyes  of  the  soul,  by  which  the  lover  contemplates 
the  Bridegroom,  are  opened  so  widely  that  they  can  never  close 
again.  .  .  .  Now  this  active  meeting,  and  this  loving  embrace, 
are  in  their  essence  fruitive  and  unconditioned;  for  the  infinite 
Undifferentiation  of  the  Godhead  is  so  dark  and  so  naked  of  all 
image,  that  it  conceals  within  itself  all  the  divine  qualities  and 
works,  all  the  properties  of  the  Persons,  in  the  all-enfolding 
richness  of  the  Essential  Unity,  and  forms  a  divine  fruition  in 
the  Abyss  of  the  Ineffable  One.  And  here  there  is  an  over- 
passing fruition  of,  and  an  outflowing  immersion  in,  the  nudity 
of  Pure  Being ;  where  all  the  Names  of  God,  and  all  manifesta- 
tions, and  all  divine  knowledge,  which  are  reflected  in  the  mirror 
of  divine  truth,  are  absorbed  into  the  Ineffable  Simplicity,  the 
Absence  of  image  and  of  knowledge.  For  in  this  limitless 
Abyss  of  Simplicity,  all  things  are  embraced  in  the  bliss  of 
fruition ;  but  the  Abyss  itself  remains  uncomprehended,  except 
by  the  Essential  Unity.  The  Persons  and  all  that  which  lives 
in  God,  must  give  place  to  this.  For  there  is  nought  else  here 
but  an  eternal  rest,  enwrapped  as  it  were  in  the  fruition  of  the 
immersion  of  love  :  and  this  is  the  Being,  without  image,  that  all 
interior  souls  have  chosen  above  all  other  thing.  This  is  the 
dim  silence  where  all  lovers  lose  themselves."  ■ 

Here  Ruysbroeck,  beginning  with  a  symbol  of  the  Divine 
Personality  as  Bridegroom  of  the  Soul,  which  would  have  been 
congenial  to  the  mind  of  St.  Catherine  of  Siena,  ends  upon  the 
summits  of  Christian  metaphysics  ;  with  a  description  of  the 

1  Ruysbroeck,  "  L'Ornement  des  noces  Spirituelles,"  bk.  iii.  caps.  iii.  and  vi. 


/ 


INTROVERSION:   CONTEMPLATION  413 

loving  immersion  of  the  self  in  that  Unconditioned  One  who 
transcends  the  Persons  of  theology  and  beggars  human  speech. 
We  seem  to  see  him  desperately  clutching  at  words  and  similes 
which  may,  he  hopes,  give  some  hint  of  the  soul's  fruition  of 
Reality :  its  immeasurable  difference  in  kind  from  the  dreams 
and  diagrams  of  anthropomorphic  religion.  His  strange  state- 
ments in  respect  of  this  Divine  Abyss  are  on  a  par  with  those 
which  I  have  already  quoted  from  the  works  of  those  other 
contemplatives,  who,  refusing  to  be  led  away  by  the  emotional 
aspect  of  their  experience,  have  striven  to  tell  us — as  they 
thought — not  merely  what  they  felt  but  what  they  beheld. 
Ruysbroeck's  great  mystical  genius,  however,  the  depth  and 
wholeness  of  his  intuition  of  Reality,  does  not  allow  him  to  be 
satisfied  with  a  merely  spatial  or  metaphysical  description  of 
the  Godhead.  The  "  active  meeting  "  and  the  "  loving  embrace" 
are,  he  sees,  an  integral  part  of  the  true  contemplative  act.  In 
"  the  dim  silence  where  lovers  lose  themselves,"  a  Person  meets 
a  person  :  and  this  it  is,  not  the  philosophic  Absolute,  which 
"  all  interior  souls  have  chosen  above  all  other  thing." 

We  must  now  look  more  closely  at  the  method  by  which 
the  contemplative  attains  to  his  unique  communion  with  the 
Absolute  Life  :  the  kind  of  activity  which  seems  to  him  to 
characterize  his  mergence  with  Reality.  As  we  might  expect, 
that  activity,  like  its  result,  is  of  two  kinds  :  personal  and 
affirmative,  impersonal  and  negative.  It  is  obvious  that  where 
Divine  Perfection  is  conceived  as  the  soul's  companion,  the  ■> 
Bridegroom,  the  Beloved,  the  method  of  approach  will  be  very 
different  from  that  which  ends  in  the  self's  immersion  in  the 
paradoxical  splendour  of  the  Abyss,  the  "  still  wilderness  where 
no  one  is  at  home."  It  is  all  the  difference  between  the  prepa- 
rations for  a  wedding  and  for  an  expedition  to  the  Arctic  Seas. 
Hence  we  find,  at  one  end  of  the  scale,  that  extreme  form  of 
personal  and  intimate  communion — the  going  forth  of  lover  to 
beloved — which  the  mystics  call  "  the  orison  of  union  "  :  and  at 
the  other  end,  the  "  dark  contemplation,"  by  which  alone  selves 
of  the  transcendent  and  impersonal  type  claim  that  they  draw 
near  to  the  Unconditioned  One. 

Of  the  dim  and  ineffable  contemplation  of  Unnameable 
Transcendence,  the  imageless  absorption  in  the  Absolute, 
Dionysius    the    Areopagite    of    course    provides    the     classic 


414  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

example.  It  was  he  who  gave  to  it  the  name  of  Divine 
Darkness :  and  all  later  mystics  of  this  type  borrow  their 
language  from  him.  His  directions  upon  the  subject  are 
singularly  explicit :  his  descriptions,  like  those  of  St.  Augustine, 
glow  with  an  exultant  sense  of  a  Reality  attained,  and  which 
others  may  attain  if  they  will  but  follow  where  he  leads. 

"  As  for  thee,  oh  well  beloved  Timothy,"  he  says,  "  exercise 
thyself  ceaselessly  in  mystical  contemplation.  Leave  on  one 
side  the  senses  and  the  operations  of  the  understanding,  all 
that  which  is  material  and  intellectual,  all  things  which  are,  and 
all  things  which  are  not ;  and,  with  a  supernatural  flight,  go  and 
unite  thyself  as  closely  as  possible  with  That  which  is  above 
all  essence  and  all  idea.  For  it  is  only  by  means  of  this 
sincere,  spontaneous,  and  entire  surrender  of  thyself  and  all 
things,  that  thou  shalt  be  able  to  precipitate  thyself,  free  and 
unfettered,  into  the  mysterious  radiance  of  the  Divine  Dark." x 
Again,  "  The  Divine  Dark  is  nought  else  but  that  inaccessible 
light  wherein  the  Lord  is  said  to  dwell.  Although  it  is  invisible 
because  of  its  dazzling  splendours  and  unsearchable  because  of 
the  abundance  of  its  supernatural  brightness,  nevertheless,  who- 
soever deserves  to  see  and  know  God  rests  therein  ;  and,  by  the 
very  fact  that  he  neither  sees  nor  knows,  is  truly  in  that  which 
surpasses  all  truth  and  all  knowledge."  2 

It  has  become  a  commonplace  with  writers  on  mysticism  to 
say,  that  all  subsequent  contemplatives  took  from  Dionysius 
this  idea  of  "  Divine  Darkness,"  and  entrance  therein  as  the 
soul's  highest  privilege  :  took  it,  so  to  speak,  ready-made  and 
on  faith,  and  incorporated  it  in  their  tradition.  But  to  argue  thus 
is  to  forget  that  mystics  are  above  all  things  practical  people. 
They  do  not  write  for  the  purpose  of  handing  on  a  philosophical 
scheme,  but  in  order  to  describe  something  which  they  have 
themselves   experienced  ;  something  which  they  feel  to  be  of 

1  Dionysius  the  Areopagite,  "De  Mystica  Theologia,"  i.  I. 
-  Ibid.,  Letter  to  Dorothy  the  Deacon.     This  passage  seems  to  be  the  source 
of  Vaughan's  celebrated  verse  in  "  The  Night  " — 

"  There  is  in  God,  some  say, 
A  deep  but  dazzling  darkness,  as  men  here 
Say  it  is  late  and  dusky  because  they 

See  not  all  clear. 
O  for  that  Night  !  where  I  in  Him 
Might  live  invisible  and  dim." 


INTROVERSION:   CONTEMPLATION  415 

transcendent  importance  for  humanity.  If,  therefore,  they 
persist — and  they  do  persist — in  using  this  simile  of  "darkness" 
in  describing  their  adventures  in  contemplation,  it  can  only  be 
because  it  fits  the  facts.  No  Hegelian  needs  to  be  told  that  we 
shall  need  the  addition  of  its  opposite  before  we  can  hope  to 
approach  the  truth :  and  it  is  exactly  the  opposite  of  this  "  dim 
ignorance"  which  is  offered  us  by  mystics  of  the  "joyous"  or 
"intimate"  type,  who  find  their  supreme  satisfaction  in  the 
positive  experience  of  "  union,"  the  "  mystical  marriage  of  the 
soul." 

What,  then,  do  those  who  use  this  image  of  the  "  dark " 
really  mean  by  it?  They  mean  this:  that  God  in  His  abso- 
lute Reality  is  unknowable — is  dark — to  man's  intellect :  which 
is,  as  Bergson  has  reminded  us,  adapted  to  very  different  pur- 
poses than  those  of  divine  intuition.  When,  under  the  spur  of 
mystic  love,  the  whole  personality  of  man  comes  into  contact 
with  that  Reality,  it  enters  a  plane  of  experience  to  which  none 
of  the  categories  of  the  intellect  apply.  Reason  finds  itself,  in 
a  very  actual  sense,  "  in  the  dark  " — immersed  in  the  Cloud  of 
Unknowing.  This  dimness  and  lostness  of  the  mind,  then,  is  a 
necessary  part  of  the  mystic's  ascent  to  the  Absolute.  That 
Absolute  will  not  be  "  known  of  the  heart "  until  we  acknow- 
ledge that  It  is  "  unknown  of  the  intellect "  ;  and  obey  the 
Dionysian  injunction  to  "  leave  the  operations  of  the  under- 
standing on  one  side."  The  movement  of  the  contemplative 
must  be  a  movement  of  the  whole  man :  he  is  to  "  precipitate 
himself,  free  and  unfettered,"  into  the  bosom  of  Reality.  Only 
when  he  has  thus  transcended  sight  and  knowledge,  can  he  be 
sure  that  he  has  also  transcended  the  world  with  which  they 
are  competent  to  deal,  and  is  in  that  which  surpasses  all 
essence  and  all  idea. 

11  This  is  Love  :    to  fly  heavenward, 
To  rend,  every  instant,  a  hundred  veils. 
The  first  moment,  to  renounce  life  ; 
The  last  step,  to  fare  without  feet. 
To  regard  this  world  as  invisible, 
Not  to  see  what  appears  to  oneself."  x 

This   acknowledgment    of    our    intellectual    ignorance,   this 
humble  surrender  is  the  entrance  into  the  "  Cloud  of  Unknow- 
ing " :  the  first  step  towards  mystical  knowledge  of  the  Absolute. 
"For  Truth  and  Humility  are  full  true  sisters,"  says  Hilton, 
1  Jelalu  'd'  Din'  "  Selected  Poems  from  the  Divan,"  p.  137. 


416  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

"  fastened  together  in  love  and  charity,  and  there  is  no  distance 
of  counsel  betwixt  them  two."  x 

"  Thou  askest  me  and  sayest,"  says  the  author  of  the  "  Cloud 
of  Unknowing,"  "  How  shall  I  think  upon  Himself  and  what 
is  He?  To  this  I  cannot  make  thee  other  answer  but  thus: 
I  wot  not. 

"  For  thou  hast  brought  me,  with  thy  question,  into  that  same 
darkness  and  cloud  of  unknowing  that  I  would  thou  wert  in 
thyself.  For  of  all  other  creatures  and  their  works  and  of  God 
Himself  a  man  may  have  fulhead  of  knowledge,  and  well  of 
them  think ;  but  of  God  Himself  can  no  man  think,  and  there- 
fore I  will  leave  all  that  I  can  think  upon,  and  choose  to  my 
love  that  thing  that  I  cannot  think.  And  why?  Because 
He  may  well  be  loved,  but  not  thought  on.  By  love  he  may 
be  gotten  and  holden,  but  by  thought  never.  .  .  .  Go  up  to- 
wards that  thick  Cloud  of  Unknowing  with  a  sharp  dart  of 
longing  love,  and  go  not  thence  for  anything  that  befall."2 

So  long,  therefore,  as  the  object  of  the  mystic's  contem- 
plation is  amenable  to  thought,  is  something  which  he  can 
"  know,"  he  may  be  quite  sure  that  it  is  not  the  Absolute ;  but 
only  a  partial  image  or  symbol  of  the  Absolute. 

To  find  that  final  Reality,  he  must  enter  into  the  "  Cloud 
of  Unknowing " — must  pass  beyond  the  plane  on  which  the 
intellect  can  work. 

"When  I  say  darkness,"  says  this  same  great  mystic,  "I 
mean  thereby  a  lack  of  knowing.  And  therefore  it  is  not 
called  a  cloud  of  the  air,  but  a  Cloud  of  Unknowing,  that  is 
between  thee  and  thy  God."  3 

The  business  of  the  contemplative,  then,  is  to  enter  this 
cloud:  the  "good  dark,"  as  Hilton  calls  it.  The  deliberate 
inhibition  of  thought  which  takes  place  in  the  "orison  of 
quiet "  is  one  of  the  ways  in  which  this  entrance  is  effected  : 
intellectual  surrender,  or  "  self-naughting,"  is  another.  He 
who,  by  dint  of  detachment  and  introversion,  enters  the 
"  nothingness "  or  "  ground  of  the  soul,"  enters  also  into  the 
"  Dark " :  a  statement  which  seems  simple  enough  until  we 
try  to  realize  what  it  means. 

*  M  The  Scale  of  Perfection,"  bk.  iii.  cap.  xiii. 

a  "  The  Cloud  of  Unknowing,"  cap.  vi.    (B.M.  Harl.  674.) 

3  /did.,  cap.  iv. 


INTROVERSION:   CONTEMPLATION  417 

"  O  where,"  says  the  bewildered  disciple  in  one  of  Boehme's 
dialogues,  "  is  this  naked  Ground  of  the  Soul  void  of  all  Self? 
And  how  shall  I  come  at  the  hidden  centre,  where  God  dwelleth 
and  not  man  ?  Tell  me  plainly,  loving  Sir,  where  it  is  ;  and 
how  it  is  to  be  found  of  me,  and  entered  into? 

"  Master.  There  where  the  soul  hath  slain  its  own  Will  and 
willeth  no  more  any  Thing  as  from  itself.  .  .  . 

"  Disciple.   But  how  shall  I  comprehend  it  ? 

"Master.  If  thou  goest  about  to  comprehend  it,  then  it  will 
fly  away  from  thee  ;  but  if  thou  dost  surrender  thyself  wholly  up 
to  it,  then  it  will  abide  with  thee,  and  become  the  Life  of  thy 
Life,  and  be  natural  to  thee."  J 

The  author  of  the  "  Cloud  of  Unknowing "  is  particularly 
explicit  as  to  the  sense  of  dimness  and  confusion  which  over- 
whelms the  self  when  it  first  enters  this  Dark ;  a  proceeding 
which  is  analogous  with  that  annihilation  of  thought  in  the  inte- 
rests of  passive  receptivity  which  we  have  studied  in  the  "  Quiet." 

"  The  first  time  thou  dost  it,"  he  says  of  the  neophyte's 
first  vague  steps  in  contemplation,  "  thou  findest  but  a  dark- 
ness, and  as  it  were  a  cloud  of  unknowing — to  wit,  a  dark  mist, 
which  seemeth  to  be  between  thee  and  the  light  that  thou 
aspirest  to — and  thou  knowest  naught  saving  that  thou  feelest 
in  thy  will  a  certain  naked  intent  unto  God,  that  is,  a  certain 
imperfect  and  bare  intent  (as  it  showeth  at  the  first  sight) 
to  come  to  a  thing,  without  convenient  means  to  come  to 
the  thing  intended.  This  cloud  (howsoever  thou  work)  is 
evermore  between  thee  and  thy  God,  and  letteth  to  thee,  that 
thou  mayest  not  see  Him  clearly  by  light  of  understanding 
in  thy  reason,  nor  feel  Him  by  sweetness  of  love  in  thine 
affection.  And  therefore  shape  thyself  to  abide  in  this  dark- 
ness so  long  as  thou  mayest,  evermore  crying  after  Him  whom 
thou  lovest,  for  if  ever  thou  shalt  feel  Him  or  see  Him  (in 
such  sort  as  He  may  be  seen  or  felt  in  this  life),  it  behoveth 
always  to  be  in  this  cloud  and  darkness."  2 

From  the  same  century,  but  from  a  very  different  country 
and  temperament,  comes  another  testimony  as  to  the  supreme 
value  of  this  dark  contemplation  of  the  Divine  :  this  absorption, 

1  Boehme,  "  Three  Dialogues  of  the  Supersensual  Life,"  p   ft* 

2  "  The  Cloud  of  Unknowing,"  cap.  iii.     I  have  inserted  the  missing  phrases  from 
Collins's  text. 

EE 


418  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

beyond  the  span  of  thought  or  emotion,  in  the  "  substance  of 
all  that  Is."  It  is  one  of  the  most  vivid  and  detailed  accounts 
of  this  strange  form  of  consciousness  which  we  possess ;  and 
deserves  to  be  compared  carefully  with  the  statements  of  "  The 
Cloud  of  Unknowing,"  and  of  St.  John  of  the  Cross.  We 
owe  it  to  that  remarkable  personality,  the  Blessed  Angela 
of  Foligno,  who  was  converted  from  a  life  of  worldliness  to 
become  not  only  a  Christian  and  a  Franciscan,  but  also  a 
Platonist.  In  it  we  seem  to  hear  the  voice  of  Plotinus  speaking 
from  the  Vale  of  Spoleto.   . 

"  There  was  a  time,"  she  says,  "  when  my  soul  was  exalted 
to  behold  God  with  so  much  clearness  that  never  before  had 
I  beheld  Him  so  distinctly.  But  love  did  I  not  see  here 
so  fully,  rather  did  I  lose  that  which  I  had  before  and  was 
left  without  love.  Afterward  did  I  see  Him  darkly >  and  this 
darkness  was  the  greatest  blessing  that  could  be  imagined, 
and  no  thought  could  conceive  aught  that  would  equal  this. 
.  .  .  And  by  that  blessing  (most  certain,  and  including  also  that 
darkness)  have  I  attained  unto  all  my  hope,  and  inasmuch 
as  now  I  see  clearly,  I  have  all  that  I  desired  to  have  or  to 
know.  Here  likewise  do  I  see  all  Good  ;  and  seeing  it,  the 
soul  cannot  think  that  it  will  depart  from  it,  or  it  from  the 
Good,  or  that  in  future  it  must  ever  leave  the  Good.  The 
soul  delighteth  unspeakably  therein,  yet  it  beholdeth  naught 
which  can  be  related  by  the  tongue  or  imagined  in  the  heart. 
It  seeth  nothing,  yet  seeth  all  things,  because  it  beholdeth  this 
Good  darkly — and  the  more  darkly  and  secretly  the  Good 
is  seen,  the  more  certain  is  it,  and  excellent  above  all  things. 
Wherefore  is  all  other  good  which  can  be  seen  or  imagined 
doubtless  less  than  this,  because  all  the  rest  is  darkness. 
And  even  when  the  soul  seeth  the  divine  power,  wisdom,  and 
will  of  God  (which  I  have  seen  most  marvellously  at  other 
times),  it  is  all  less  than  this  most  certain  Good.  Because  this 
is  the  whole,  and  those  other  things  are  but  part  of  the 
whole.  Another  difference  is,  that  albeit  those  other  things 
are  unspeakable  yet  they  do  bring  great  joy  which  is 
felt  even  in ,  the  body.  But  seen  thus  darkly,  the  Good 
bringeth  no  smile  upon  the  lips,  no  fervour  or  devotion  or 
love  into  the  heart,  for  the  body  doth  not  tremble  or  become 
moved  or  distressed  as  it  doth  at  other  times.     And  the  cause 


INTROVERSION:  CONTEMPLATION  419 

thereof  is,  that  the  soul  seeth,  and  not  the  body,  which  reposeth 
and  sleepeth,  and  the  tongue  is  made  dumb  and  cannot  speak. 
.  .  .  Unto  this  most  high  power  of  beholding  God  ineffably 
through  such  great  darkness  was  my  spirit  uplifted  but  three 
times  and  no  more ;  and  although  I  beheld  Him  countless 
times,  and  always  darkly,  yet  never  in  such  an  high  manner 
and  through  such  great  darkness.  .  .  .  And  to  me  it  seemeth  that 
I  am  fixed  in  the  midst  of  It  and  that  It  draweth  me  unto 
Itself  more  than  anything  else  the  which  I  ever  beheld,  or 
any  blessing  I  ever  yet  received,  so  there  is  nothing  which  can 
be  compared  unto  It."  1 

These  words,  and  indeed  the  whole  idea  which  lies  at  the 
bottom  of  "  dark  contemplation,"  will  perhaps  be  better  under- 
stood in  the  light  of  Baron  von  HiigePs  deeply  significant  saying : 
"  Souls  loving  God  in  His  Infinite  Individuality  will  necessarily 
love  Him  beyond  their  intellectual  comprehension  of  Him ; 
the  element  of  devoted  trust,  of  free  self-donation  to  One 
fully  known  only  through  and  in  such  an  act,  will  thus  remain 
to  man  for  ever."2  Hence,  the  contemplative  act,  which  is 
an  act  of  loving  and  self-forgetting  concentration  upon  the 
Divine — the  outpouring  of  man's  little  and  finite  personality 
towards  the  Absolute  Personality  of  God — will,  in  so  far  as 
it  transcends  thought,  mean  darkness  for  the  intellect ;  but 
it  may  mean  radiance  for  the  heart.  Psychologically,  it  will 
mean  the  necessary  depletion  of  the  surface-consciousness,  the 
stilling  of  the  mechanism  of  thought,  in  the  interests  of  another 
centre  of  consciousness.  Since  this  new  centre  makes  enormous 
demands  on  the  self's  stock  of  vitality  its  establishment 
means,  during  the  time  that  it  is  active,  the  withdrawal  of 
energy  from  other  centres.  Thus  the  "night  of  thought" 
becomes  the  strictly  logical  corollary  of  the  "  light  of  perception." 

No  one  has  expressed  this  double  character  of  the  Divine 
Dark — its  "  nothingness  "  for  the  dissecting  knife  of  reason, 
its  supreme  fruitfulness  for  expansive,  active  love — with  so 
delicate  an  insight  as  St.  John  of  the  Cross.  In  his  work  the 
Christian  touch  of  personal  rapture  vivifies  the  exact  and 
sometimes  arid   descriptions   of  the   Neoplatonic  mystics.     A 

1  B.  Angelae  de  Fulginio,  "  Visionum  et  Instructionum  Liber"  (English  transla- 
tion, p.  181). 

2  "  The  Mystical  Element  of  Religion,"  vol.  ii.  p.  257. 


420  AN   INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

great  poet  as  well  as  a  great  mystic,  in  his  poem  on  the 
"  Obscure  Night,"  he  brings  to  bear  on  this  actual  and  ineffable 
experience  of  the  introverted  soul  all  the  highest  powers  of 
artistic  expression,  all  the  resources  of  musical  rhythm,  the 
suggestive  qualities  of  metaphor. 

"  Upon  an  obscure  night 
Fevered  with  Love's  anxiety 
(O  hapless,  happy  plight !) 
I  went,  none  seeing  me, 
Forth  from  my  house,  where  all  things  quiet  be. 

By  night,  secure  from  sight 
And  by  a  secret  stair,  disguisedly, 
(O  hapless,  happy  plight !) 
By  night,  and  privily 
Forth  from  my  house,  where  all  things  quiet  be. 

Blest  night  of  wandering 
In  secret,  when  by  none  might  I  be  spied, 
Nor  I  see  anything ; 
Without  a  light  to  guide 
Save  that  which  in  my  heart  burnt  in  my  side. 

That  light  did  lead  me  on, 
More  surely  than  the  shining  of  noontide 
Where  well  I  knew  that  One 
Did  for  my  coming  bide  ; 
Where  He  abode  might  none  but  He  abide. 

O  night  that  didst  lead  thus, 
O  night  more  lovely  than  the  dawn  of  light ; 
O  night  that  broughtest  us, 
Lover  to  lover's  sight, 
Lover  to  loved,  in  marriage  of  delight ! 

Upon  my  flowery  breast 
Wholly  for  Him  and  save  Himself  for  none, 
There  did  I  give  sweet  rest 
To  my  beloved  one  : 
The  fanning  of  the  cedars  breathed  thereon."1 

Observe  in  these  verses  the  amazing  fusion  of  personal 
and  metaphysical  imagery  ;  each  contributing  by  its  suggestive 
qualities  to  a  total  effect  which  conveys  to  us,  we  hardly 
know   how,   the   obscure   yet   flaming   rapture   of  the   mystic, 

1  "  En  una  Noche  Escura."    This  translation,  by  Mr.  Arthur  Symons,  will  be 
found  in  vol.  ii.  of  his  Collected  Poems. 


INTROVERSION:   CONTEMPLATION  421 

the  affirmation  of  his  burning  love  and  the  accompanying 
negation  of  his  mental  darkness  and  quiet — that  "  hapless, 
happy  plight."  All  is  here :  the  secrecy  of  the  contemplative's 
true  life  unseen  of  other  men,  his  deliberate  and  active  abandon- 
ment of  the  comfortable  house  of  the  senses,  the  dim,  unknown 
plane  of  being  into  which  his  ardent  spirit  must  plunge — a 
"  night  more  lovely  than  the  dawn  of  light " — the  Inward 
Light,  the  fire  of  mystic  love,  which  guides  his  footsteps  "  more 
surely  than  the  shining  of  noon-tide :  the  self-giving  ecstasy 
of  the  consummation  "wholly  for  Him,  and  save  Himself  for 
none,"  in  which  lover  attains  communion  with  Beloved  "in 
marriage  of  delight." 

In  his  book,  "  The  Dark  Night  of  the  Soul,"  St.  John  has 
commented  upon  the  opening  lines  of  this  poem  :  and  the 
passages  in  which  he  does  this  are  amongst  the  finest  and  most 
subtle  descriptions  of  the  psychology  of  contemplation  which 
we  possess. 

"  The  soul,"  he  says,  "  calls  the  dim  contemplation,  by  which 
it  goes  forth  to  the  union  of  love,  a  secret  stair ;  and  that 
because  of  two  properties  of  it  which  I  am  going  to  explain. 
First,  this  dark  contemplation  is  called  secret,  because  it  is, 
as  I  have  said  before,  the  mystical  theology  which  theologians 
call  secret  wisdom,  and  which  according  to  St.  Thomas  is 
infused  into  the  soul  more  especially  by  love.  This  happens  in 
a  secret  hidden  way,  in  which  the  natural  operations  of  the 
understanding  have  no  share.  .  .  .  Moreover,  the  soul  has  no 
wish  to  speak  of  it ;  and  beside,  it  can  discover  no  way  or  proper 
similitude  to  describe  it  by,  so  as  to  make  known  a  knowledge 
so  high,  a  spiritual  impression  so  delicate  and  infused.  Yea,  and 
if  it  could  have  a  wish  to  speak  of  it,  and  find  terms  to  describe 
it,  it  would  always  remain  secret  still.  Because  this  interior 
wisdom  is  so  simple,  general,  and  spiritual,  that  it  enters  not 
into  the  understanding  under  any  form  or  image  subject  to 
sense,  as  is  sometimes  the  case  ;  the  imagination,  therefore,  and 
the  senses — as  it  has  not  entered  in  by  them,  nor  is  modified  by 
them — cannot  account  for  it,  nor  form  any  conception  of  it, 
so  as  to  speak  in  any  degree  correctly  about  it,  though  the  soul 
be  distinctly  conscious  that  it  feels  and  tastes  this  strange 
wisdom.  The  soul  is  like  a  man  who  sees  an  object  for  the 
first   time,   the  like   of  which   he   has    never   seen   before;  he 


422  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

handles  it  and  feels  it,  yet  he  cannot  say  what  it  is,  nor  tell 
its  name,  do  what  he  can,  though  it  be  at  the  same  time  an 
object  cognisable  by  the  senses.  How  much  less,  then,  can 
that  be  described,  which  does  not  enter  in  by  the  senses.  .  .  . 
This  is  not  the  only  reason  why  it  is  called  secret  and  why  it 
is  so.  There  is  another,  namely,  the  mystical  wisdom  has  the 
property  of  hiding  the  soul  within  itself.  For  beside  its  ordinary 
operation,  it  sometimes  so  absorbs  the  soul  and  plunges  it 
in  this  secret  abyss  that  the  soul  sees  itself  distinctly  as  far 
away  from,  and  abandoned  by,  all  created  things  ;  it  looks  upon 
itself  as  one  that  is  placed  in  a  wild  and  vast  solitude  whither 
no  human  being  can  come,  as  in  an  immense  wilderness  without 
limits ;  a  wilderness  the  more  delicious,  sweet,  and  lovely,  the 
more  it  is  wide,  vast,  and  lonely,  where  the  soul  is  the  more 
hidden,  the  more  it  is  raised  up  above  all  created  things. 

"  This  abyss  of  wisdom  now  so  exalts  and  elevates  the  soul — 
orderly  disposing  it  for  the  science  of  love — that  it  makes  it  not 
only  understand  how  mean  are  all  created  things  in  relation 
to  the  supreme  wisdom  and  divine  knowledge,  but  also  how 
low,  defective,  and,  in  a  certain  sense,  improper,  are  all  the 
words  and  phrases  by  which  in  this  life  we  discuss  divine 
:  things  ;  and  how  utterly  impossible  it  is  by  any  natural  means, 
however  profoundly  and  learnedly  we  may  speak,  to  under- 
stand and  see  them  as  they  are,  except  in  the  light  of  mystical 
theology.  And  so  the  soul  in  the  light  thereof  discerning  this 
truth,  namely,  that  it  cannot  reach  it,  and  still  less  explain  it,  by 
the  terms  of  ordinary  speech,  justly  calls  it  Secret."  z 

In  this  important  passage  we  have  a  reconciliation  of  the 
four  chief  images  under  which  contemplation  has  been 
described :  the  darkness  and  the  light,  the  wilderness  and  the 
union  of  love.  That  is  to  say,  the  self's  paradoxical  feeling 
of  an  ignorance  which  is  supreme  knowledge,  and  of  solitude 
which  is  intimate  companionship.  On  the  last  of  these  anti- 
theses, the  "  wilderness  that  is  more  delicious,  sweet,  and  lovely, 

*  St.  John  of  the  Cross,  "  Noche  Escura  del  Alma,"  L  ii.  cap.  xvii.  (Lewis's 
translation).  It  is  perhaps  advisable  to  warn  the  reader  that  in  this  work  St.  John 
applies  the  image  of  "darkness"  to  three  absolutely  different  things:  i.e.,  to  a 
form  of  purgation,  which  he  calls  the  "night  of  sense";  to  dim  contemplation,  or 
the  Dionysian  "  Divine  Dark  "  ;  and  to  the  true  *'  dark  night  of  the  soul,"  which  he 
calls  the  "night  of  the  spirit."  The  result  has  been  a  good  deal  of  confusion, 
in  modern  writers  on  mysticism,  upon  the  subject  of  the  "  Dark  Night." 


INTROVERSION:  CONTEMPLATION  423 

the  more  it  is  wide,  vast,  and  lonely,"  I  cannot  resist  quoting, 
as  a  gloss  upon  the  dignified  language  of  the  Spanish  mystic, 
the  quaint  and  simple  words  of  Richard  Rolle. 

"In  the  wilderness  .  .  .  speaks  the  loved  to  the  heart  of  the 
lover ;  as  it  were  a  bashful  lover,  that  his  sweetheart  before  men 
entreats  not,  nor  friendly-wise  but  commonly  and  as  a  stranger 
he^  kisses.  A  devout  soul  safely  from  worldly  business  in  mind 
and  body  departed  .  .  .  anon  comes  heavenly  joy,  and  it 
marvellously  making  merry  melody,  to  it  springs  whose  token 
it  takes,  that  now  forward  worldly  sound  gladly  it  suffers  not. 
This  is  ghostly  music,  that  is  unknown  to  all  that  with  worldly 
business  lawful  or  unlawful  are  occupied.  No  man  there  is 
that  this  has  known,  but  he  that  has  studied  to  God  only  to 
take  heed."  « 

Doubtless  the  "dark  transcendence"  reported  and  dwelt 
upon  by  all  mystics  of  the  Dionysian  type,  is  nearest  the 
truth  of  all  our  apprehensions  of  God  :2  though  it  can  be  true 
only  in  the  paradoxical  sense  that  it  uses  the  suggestive 
qualities  of  negation — the  Dark  whose  very  existence  involves 
that  of  Light— to  hint  at  the  infinite  Affirmation  of  All  that 
Is.  But  the  nearer  this  language  is  to  the  Absolute,  the  further 
it  is  from  ourselves.  Unless  care  be  taken  in  the  use  of  it,  the 
absence  of  falsehood  may  easily  involve  for  us  the  absence  of 
everything  else.  Man  is  not  yet  pure  spirit,  has  not  attained 
the  Eternal.  He  is  in  via,  and  will  never  arrive  if  impatient 
amateurs  of  Reality  insist  on  cutting  the  ground  from  under 
his  feet.  Like  Dante,  he  needs  a  ladder  to  the  stars,  a  ladder 
which  goes  the  whole  way  from  the  human  to  the  divine. 
Therefore  the  philosophic  exactitude  of  these  descriptions 
of  the  dark  must  be  balanced,  as  they  are  in  St.  John  of  the 
Cross,  by  the  personal,  human,  and  symbolic  affirmations  of 
Love,  if  we  would  avoid  a  distorted  notion  of  the  Reality  which 
the  contemplative  attains  in  his  supreme  "  flights  towards  God." 
Consciousness  has  got  to  be  helped  across  the  gap  which 
separates  it  from  its  Home. 

The  "  wilderness,"  the  dread  Abyss,  must  be  made  homely 
by  the  voice  of  "  the  lover  that  His  sweetheart  before  men 
entreats  not."     Approximate  as  we  know  such  an  image  of  our 

1  "  The  Fire  of  Love,"  bk.  ii.  cap.  vii. 

2  Compare  Baker,  "  Holy  Wisdom,"  Treatise  iii.  §  iv.  cap.  iv. 


424  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

communion  with  the  Absolute  to  be,  it  represents  a  real  aspect 
of  the  contemplative  experience  which  eludes  the  rule  and 
compass  of  metaphysical  thought.  Blake,  with  true  mystic 
insight,  summed  up  the  situation  as  between  the  two  extreme 
forms  of  contemplation  when  he  wrote  : — z 

"God  appears,  and  God  is  Light 
To  those  poor  souls  who  dwell  in  night: 
But  doth  a  human  form  display 
To  those  who  dwell  in  realms  of  day." 

In  the  "  orison  of  union "  and  the  "  Spiritual  Marriage," 
those  contemplatives  whose  temperament  inclines  them  to 
"  dwell  in  realms  of  day  "  receive  just  such  a  revelation  of  the 
"human  form" — a  revelation  which  the  Christian  dogma  of 
the  Incarnation  brings  to  a  point.  They  apprehend  the  per- 
sonal and  passionate  aspect  of  the  Infinite  Life  ;  and  the  love,  at 
once  intimate  and  expansive,  all-demanding  and  all-renouncing, 
which  plays  like  lightning  between  it  and  the  desirous  soul. 
"Thou  saidst  to  me,  my  only  Love,  that  Thou  didst  will  to 
make  me  Thyself;  and  that  Thou  wast  all  mine,  with  all  that 
Thou  hadst  and  with  all  Paradise,  and  that  I  was  all  Thine. 
That  I  should  leave  all,  or  rather  the  nothing  ;  and  that  (then) 
Thou  wouldst  give  me  the  all.  And  that  Thou  hadst  given 
me  this  name — at  which  words  I  heard  within  me  '  dedi  te  in 
lucem  gentium' — not  without  good  reason.  And  it  seemed 
then,  as  though  I  had  an  inclination  for  nothing  except  the 
purest  Union,  without  any  means,  in  accordance  with  that 
detailed  sight  which  Thou  hadst  given  me.  So  then  I  said 
to  Thee :  These  other  things,  give  them  to  whom  Thou  wilt ; 
give  me  but  this  most  pure  Union  with  Thee,  free  from  every 
means."2 

"  Our  work  is  the  love  of  God,"  cries  Ruysbroeck.  "Our 
satisfaction  lies  in  submission  to  the  Divine  Embrace."  This 
utter  and  abrupt  submission  to  the  Divine  Embrace  is  the 
essence  of  that  form  of  contemplation  which  is  called  the 
Orison  of  Union.  "  Surrender "  is  its  secret :  a  personal  sur- 
render, not  only  of  finite  to  Infinite,  but  of  bride  to  Bride- 

1  "  Auguries  of  Innocence. " 

2  Colloquies   of    Battista    Vernazza :    quoted    by  Von  Hugel,    "The  Mystical 
Element  of  Religion,"  vol.  i.  p.  350. 


INTROVERSION:   CONTEMPLATION  425 

groom,  heart  to  Heart.  This  surrender,  in  contemplatives  of 
an  appropriate  temperament,  is  of  so  complete  and  ecstatic  a 
type  that  it  involves  a  more  or  less  complete  suspension  of 
normal  consciousness,  an  entrancement ;  and  often  crosses 
the  boundary  which  separates  contemplation  from  true  ecstasy, 
producing  in  its  subject  physical  as  well  as  psychical  effects.  In 
this  state,  says  St.  Teresa,  "  There  is  no  sense  of  anything :  only 
fruition,  without  understanding  what  that  may  be  the  fruition 
of  which  is  granted.  It  is  understood  that  the  fruition  is  of 
a  certain  good,  containing  in  itself  all  good  together  at  once  ; 
but  this  good  is  not  comprehended.  The  senses  are  all  occu- 
pied in  this  fruition  in  such  a  way,  that  not  one  of  them  is  at 
liberty  so  as  to  be  able  to  attend  to  anything  else,  whether 
outward  or  inward.  .  .  .  But  this  state  of  complete  absorption, 
together  with  the  utter  rest  of  the  imagination — for  I  believe 
that  the  imagination  is  then  wholly  at  rest — lasts  only  for  a 
jshort  time ;  though  the  faculties  do  not  so  completely  recover 
jthemselves  as  not  to  be  for  some  hours  afterwards  as  if  in 
disorder.  .  .  .  He  who  has  had  experience  of  this  will  under- 
stand it  in  some  measure,  for  it  cannot  be  more  clearly 
described,  because  what  then  takes  place  is  so  obscure.  All 
I  am  able  to  say  is,  that  the  soul  is  represented  as  being  close 
to  God  ;  and  that  there  abides  a  conviction  thereof  so  certain 
and  strong  that  it  cannot  possibly  help  believing  so.  All  the 
faculties  fail  now,  and  are  suspended  in  such  a  way  that,  as 
I  said  before,  their  operations  cannot  be  traced.  .  .  .  The  wil1 
must  be  fully  occupied  in  loving,  but  it  understands  not  how 
it  loves  ;  the  understanding,  if  it  understands,  does  not  under- 
stand how  it  understands.  It  does  not  understand,  as  it  seems 
to  me,  because,  as  I  said  just  now,  this  is  a  matter  which 
cannot  be  understood."1  Clearly,  the  psychological  situation 
here  is  the  same  as  that  in  which  mystics  of  the  impersonal 
type  feel  themselves  to  be  involved  in  the  Cloud  of  Unknowing, 
or  Divine  Dark. 

"  Do  not  imagine,"  says  Teresa  in  another  place,  "  that  this 
orison,  like  that  which  went  before  [i.e.,  the  quiet]  is  a  sort  of 
drowsiness :  I  say  drowsiness,  because  in  the  orison  of  divine 
savours  or  of  quiet  it  seemed  that  the  soul  was  neither 
thoroughly  asleep,  nor  thoroughly  awake,  but  that  it  dozed. 

1  Vida,  cap.  xviii.  §§  2,  17,  19. 


426  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

Here,  on  the  contrary,  the  soul  is  asleep ;  entirely  asleep  as 
regards  herself  and  earthly  things.  During  the  short  time  that 
union  lasts  she  is,  as  it  were,  deprived  of  all  feeling,  and  though 
she  wishes  it,  she  can  think  of  nothing.  Thus  she  needs  no 
effort  in  order  to  suspend  the  action  of  her  intellect  or  even 
the  action  of  love  .  .  .  she  is,  as  it  were,  absolutely  dead  to 
things  of  the  world,  the  better  to  live  in  God." 

It  may  be  asked,  in  what  way  does  such  contemplation 
as  this  differ  from  unconsciousness.  The  difference,  according 
to  St.  Teresa,  consists  in  the  definite  somewhat  which  takes 
place  during  this  inhibition  of  the  surface-consciousness :  a 
somewhat "  of  which  that  surface-consciousness  becomes 
aware  when  it  awakes.  Work  has  been  done  during  this  period 
of  apparent  passivity.  The  deeper  self  has  escaped,  has  risen 
to  freedom,  and  brings  back  tidings  of  the  place  to  which  it 
has  been.  We  must  remember  that  Teresa  is  here  speaking 
from  experience,  and  that  her  temperamental  peculiarities  will 
modify  the  form  which  this  experience  takes.  "  The  soul,"  she 
says,  "  neither  sees,  hears,  nor  understands  whilst  she  is  united 
to  God ;  but  this  time  is  usually  very  short,  and  seems  to 
be  even  shorter  than  it  is.  God  establishes  Himself  in  the 
interior  of  this  soul  in  such  a  way  that,  when  she  comes  to 
herself,  it  is  impossible  for  her  to  doubt  that  she  has  been  in  Goa 
and  God  in  her ;  and  this  truth  has  left  in  her  so  deep  an 
impression  that,  though  she  passed  several  years  without  being 
again  raised  to  this  state,  she  could  neither  forget  the  favour 
she  received  nor  doubt  its  reality.  .  .  .  But  you  will  say,  how 
can  the  soul  see  and  comprehend  that  she  is  in  God  and  God 
in  her,  if  during  this  union  she  is  not  able  either  to  see  or 
understand  ?  I  reply,  that  then  she  does  not  see  it,  but  that 
afterwards  she  sees  it  clearly :  not  by  a  vision,  but  by  a  certi- 
tude which  rests  with  her,  and  which  God  alone  can  give."  z 

1  "El  Castillo  Interior,"  Moradas  Quintas,  cap.  i. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

ECSTASY   AND   RAPTURE 

Ecstasy  is  the  last  term  of  Contemplation — Mystics  regard  it  as  a  very  favourable 
state — Its  physical  aspect — The  trance — an  abnormal  bodily  state — Healthy  and 
unhealthy  trances — their  characteristics — St.  Catherine  of  Genoa — Psychological 
aspect  of  ecstasy — Complete  mono-ideism — A  temporary  unification  of  consciousness 
— Often  helped  by  symbols — St.  Catherine  of  Siena — Description  of  healthy  ecstasy — 
It  entails  a  new  perception  of  Reality — Mystical  aspect  of  Ecstasy — a  state  of  "  Pure 
Apprehension" — the  completion  of  the  Orison  of  Union — Sometimes  hard  to  dis- 
tinguish from  it — The  real  distinction  is  in  entrancement — St.  Teresa  on  union  and 
ecstasy — Results  of  ecstasy  confirm  those  of  contemplation — no  sharp  line  possible 
between  the  two — Many  cases  cannot  be  classified — Rolle  on  two  forms  of  Rapture — 
The  mystic  in  ecstasy  claims  that  he  attains  the  Absolute — The  nature  of  his  con- 
sciousness— a  concentration  of  his  whole  being  on  one  act — A  perception  of  Eternity 
— Suso — the  Neoplatonists — Plotinus — Self-mergence — Jacopone  da  Todi — Ecstatic 
vision — Rapture — its  distinction  from  Ecstasy — it  indicates  psycho- physical  dis- 
harmony— St.  Teresa  on  Rapture — Levitation — Rapture  always  entails  bodily 
immobility — generally  mental  disorder — Its  final  result  good  for  life — Ecstatic  states 
contribute  to  the  organic  development  of  the  self 

SINCE  the  primal  object  of  all  contemplation  is  the  pro- 
duction of  that  state  of  intimate  communion  in  which  the 
mystics  declare  that  the  self  is  "  in  God  and  God  is  in 
her,"  it  might  be  supposed  that  the  orison  of  union  repre- 
sented the  end  of  mystical  activity,  in  so  far  as  it  is  concerned 
with  the  attainment  of  a  transitory  but  exalted  consciousness 
of  "oneness  with  the  Absolute."  Nearly  all  the  great  con- 
templatives,  however,  describe  as  a  distinct,  and  regard  as  a 
more  advanced  phase  of  the  spiritual  consciousness,  the  group 
of  definitely  ecstatic  states  in  which  the  concentration  of  in- 
terest on  the  Transcendent  is  so  complete,  the  gathering  up 
and  pouring  out  of  life  on  this  one  point  so  intense,  that  the 
subject  is  entranced,  and  becomes,  for  the  time  of  the  ecstasy, 
wholly  unconscious  of  the  external  world.  In  pure  contempla- 
tion he  refused  to  attend  to  that  external  world  :  it  was  there, 

427 


428  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

a  blurred  image,  at  the  fringe  of  his  conscious  field,  but  he 
deliberately  left  it  on  one  side.  In  ecstasy  he  cannot  attend 
to  it.  None  of  its  messages  reach  him :  not  even  those  most 
insistent  of  all  messages  which  are  translated  into  the  terms 
of  bodily  pain. 

Mystics  of  all  ages  have  agreed  in  regarding  such  ecstasy  as 
an  exceptionally  favourable  stace ;  the  one  in  which  man's 
spirit  is  caught  up  to  its  most  immediate  vision  of  the  divine. 
The  word  has  become  a  synonym  for  joyous  exaltation,  for 
the  inebriation  of  the  Infinite.  The  induced  ecstasies  of  the 
Dionysian  mysteries,  the  metaphysical  raptures  of  the  Neo- 
platonists,  the  voluntary  or  involuntary  trance  of  Indian 
mystics  and  Christian  saints — all  these,  however  widely  they 
may  differ  in  transcendental  value,  agree  in  claiming  such 
value,  in  declaring  that  this  change  in  the  quality  of  their 
consciousness  brought  with  it  an  expansive  and  unforgettable 
apprehension  of  the  Real. 

Clearly,  this  apprehension  will  vary  with  the  place  of  the 
subject  in  the  spiritual  scale.  The  ecstasy  is  simply  the 
psycho-physical  agent  by  which  it  is  obtained.  "  It  is  hardly 
a  paradox  to  say,"  says  Myers,  "  that  the  evidence  for  ecstasy 
is  stronger  than  the  evidence  for  any  other  religious  belief.  Of 
all  the  subjective  experiences  of  religion,  ecstasy  is  that  which 
has  been  most  urgently,  perhaps  to  the  psychologist  most  con- 
vincingly asserted ;  and  it  is  not  confined  to  any  one  religion. 
.  .  .  From  the  medicine  man  of  the  lowest  savages  up  to 
St.  John,  St.  Peter,  and  St.  Paul,  with  Buddha  and  Mahomet 
on  the  way,  we  find  records  which,  though  morally  and  in- 
tellectually much  differing,  are  in  psychological  essence 
the  same."  I 

There  are  three  distinct  aspects  under  which  the  ecstatic 
state  may  be  studied  :  (a)  the  physical,  (J?)  the  psychological, 
(c)  the  mystical.  Many  of  the  deplorable  misunderstandings 
and  still  more  deplorable  mutual  recriminations  which  surround 
its  discussion  come  from  the  refusal  of  experts  in  one  of 
these  three  branches  to  consider  the  results  arrived  at  by 
the  other  two. 

A.  Physically  considered,  Ecstasy  is  a  trance  ;  more  or  less 
deep,  more  or  less  prolonged.     The  subject  may  slide  into  it 

*  "  Human  Personality  and  its  Survival  of  Bodily  Death,"  vol.  ii.  p.  260. 


ECSTASY  AND  RAPTURE  429 

gradually  from  a  period  of  absorption  in,  or  contemplation  of, 
some  idea  which  has  filled  the  field  of  consciousness  :  or,  it  may 
come  on  suddenly,  the  appearance  of  the  idea — or  even  some 
word  or  symbol  suggesting  the  idea — abruptly  throwing  the 
subject  into  an  entranced  condition.  This  is  the  state  which 
mystical  writers  call  Rapture.  The  distinction,  however,  is 
a  conventional  one:  and  the  works  of  the  mystics  describe 
many  intermediate  forms. 

During  the  trance,  breathing  and  circulation  are  depressed. 
The  body  is  more  or  less  cold  and  rigid,  remaining  in  the  exact 
position  which  it  occupied  at  the  oncoming  of  the  ecstasy, 
however  difficult  and  unnatural  this  pose  may  be.  Sometimes 
entrancement  is  so  deep  that  there  is  complete  anaesthesia,  as 
in  the  case  which  I  quote  from  the  life  of  St.  Catherine  of  Siena.1 
Credible  witnesses  report  that  Bernadette,  the  visionary  of 
Lourdes,  held  the  flaming  end  of  a  candle  in  her  hand  for 
fifteen  minutes  during  one  of  her  ecstasies.  She  felt  no  pain, 
neither  did  the  flesh  show  any  marks  of  burning.  Similar  in- 
stances of  ecstatic  anaesthesia  abound  in  the  lives  of  the  saints.2 

The  trance  includes,  according  to  the  testimony  of  the 
ecstatics,  two  distinct  phases — (a)  the  short  period  of  lucidity 
and  (b)  a  longer  period  of  complete  unconsciousness,  which 
may  pass  into  a  death-like  catalepsy,  lasting  for  hours ;  or, 
as  once  with  St.  Teresa,  for  days.  "  The  difference  between 
union  and  trance,"  says  Teresa,  "  is  this  :  that  the  latter  lasts 
longer  and  is  more  visible  outwardly,  because  the  breathing 
gradually  diminishes,  so  that  it  becomes  impossible  to  speak 
or  to  open  the  eyes.  And  though  this  very  thing  occurs  when 
the  soul  is  in  union,  there  is  more  violence  in  a  trance  ;  for  the 
natural  warmth  vanishes,  I  know  not  how,  when  the  rapture  is 
deep,  and  in  all  these  kinds  of  orison  there  is  more  or  less  of 
this.  When  it  is  deep,  as  I  was  saying,  the  hands  become  cold 
and  sometimes  stiff  and  straight  as  pieces  of  wood  ;  as  to  the 
body,  if  the  rapture  comes  on  when  it  is  standing  or  kneeling 
it  remains  so  ;  and  the  soul  is  so  full  of  the  joy  of  that  which 
Our  Lord  is  setting  before  it,  that  it  seems  to  forget  to  animate 
the  body  and  abandons  it.  If  the  rapture  lasts,  the  nerves  are 
made  to  feel  it."  3 

1  Vide  infra,  p.  435. 

2  An  interesting  modern  case  is  reported  in  the  Lancet,  18  March,  191 1. 

3  Relaccion  viii.  8. 


430  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

Such  ecstasy  as  this,  so  far  as  its  merely  physical  symptoms 
go,  is  not  of  course  the  peculiar  privilege  of  the  mystics.  It  is 
an  abnormal  bodily  state,  caused  by  a  psychic  state :  and  this 
causal  psychic  state  may  be  healthy  or  unhealthy,  the  result  of 
genius  or  disease.  It  is  common  in  the  strange  and  little 
understood  type  of  personality  called  "  sensitive "  or  medium- 
istic :  it  is  a  well-known  symptom  of  certain  mental  and  nervous 
illnesses.  A  feeble  mind  concentrated  on  one  idea — like  a 
hypnotic  subject  gazing  at  one  spot — easily  becomes  entranced  ; 
however  trivial  the  idea  which  gained  possession  of  his  con- 
sciousness. Taken  alone  then,  and  apart  from  its  content, 
ecstasy  carries  no  guarantee  of  spiritual  value.  It  merely 
indicates  the  presence  of  certain  abnormal  psycho-physical 
conditions  :  an  alteration  of  the  normal  equilibrium,  a  shifting 
of  the  threshold  of  consciousness,  which  leaves  the  body,  and  the 
whole  usual  "  external  world "  outside  instead  of  inside  the 
conscious  field,  and  even  affects  those  physical  functions — such 
as  breathing — which  are  almost  entirely  automatic.  Thus 
ecstasy,  physically  considered,  may  occur  in  any  person  in 
whom  (i)  the  threshold  of  consciousness  is  exceptionally  mobile 
and  (2)  there  is  a  tendency  to  dwell  upon  one  governing  idea  or 
intuition.  Its  worth  depends  entirely  on  the  objective  worth  of 
that  idea  or  intuition. 

In  the  hysterical  patient,  thanks  to  an  unhealthy  condition 
of  the  centres  of  consciousness,  any  trivial  or  irrational  idea,  any 
one  of  the  odds  and  ends  stored  up  in  the  subliminal  region, 
may  thus  become  fixed,  dominate  the  mind,  and  produce 
entrancement.  Such  ecstasy  is  an  illness :  the  emphasis  is 
on  the  pathological  state  which  makes  it  possible.  In  the 
mystic,  the  idea  which  fills  his  life  is  so  great  a  one — the 
idea  of  God — that,  in  proportion  as  it  is  vivid,  real,  and  intimate, 
it  inevitably  tends  to  monopolize  the  field  of  consciousness. 
His  ecstasy  is  an  expression  of  this  fact :  and  here  the  emphasis 
is  on  the  overpowering  strength  of  spirit,  not  on  the  feeble  and 
unhealthy  state    of  body    or  mind.1     This   true  ecstasy,   says 

1  St.  Thomas  proves  ecstasies  to  be  inevitable  on  just  this  psychological  ground. 
"  The  higher  our  mind  is  raised  to  the  contemplation  of  spiritual  things,"  he  says, 
"  the  more  it  is  abstracted  from  sensible  things.  But  the  final  term  to  which  contem- 
plation can  possibly  arrive  is  the  divine  substance.  Therefore  the  mind  that  sees  the 
divine  substance  must  be  totally  divorced  from  the  bodily  senses,  either  by  death  or  by 
some  rapture  "  ("Summa  Contra  Gentiles,"  1.  iii.  cap.  xlvii.,  Rickaby's  translation). 


ECSTASY  AND  RAPTURE  431 

Godfernaux,  is  not  a  malady,  but  "  the  extreme  form  of  a  state 
which  must  be  classed  amongst  the  ordinary  accidents  of  con- 
scious life."  x 

The  mystics  themselves  are  fully  aware  of  the  import- 
ance of  this  distinction.  Ecstasies,  no  less  than  visions  and 
voices,  must,  they  declare,  be  subjected  to  unsparing  criticism 
before  they  are  recognized  as  divine :  whereas  some  are 
undoubtedly  "  of  God,"  others  are  no  less  clearly  "  of  the 
devil." 

"The  great  doctors  of  the  mystic  life,"  says  Malaval, 
"  teach  that  there  are  two  sorts  of  rapture  which  must  be  care- 
fully distinguished.  The  first  are  produced  in  persons  but 
little  advanced  in  the  Way,  and  still  full  of  selfhood  ;  either  by 
the  force  of  a  heated  imagination  which  vividly  apprehends  a 
sensible  object,  or  by  the  artifice  of  the  Devil.  These  are  the 
raptures  which  St.  Teresa  calls,  in  various  parts  of  her  works, 
Raptures  of  Feminine  Weakness.  The  other  sort  of  Rapture 
is,  on  the  contrary,  the  effect  of  pure  intellectual  vision  in  those 
who  have  a  great  and  generous  love  for  God.  To  generous 
souls  who  have  utterly  renounced  themselves,  God  never  fails 
in  these  raptures  to  communicate  high  things."2 

All  the  mystics  agree  with  Malaval  in  finding  the  test  of  a 
true  ecstasy,  not  in  its  outward  sign,  but  in  its  inward  grace,  its 
after-value :  and  here  psychological  science  would  be  well 
advised  to  follow  their  example.  The  ecstatic  states,  which  are 
supreme  instances  of  the  close  connexion  between  body  and 
soul,  have  bodily  as  well  as  mental  results :  and  those  results 
are  as  different  and  as  characteristic  as  those  observed  in 
healthy  and  in  morbid  organic  processes.  If  the  concentration 
has  been  upon  the  highest  centre  of  consciousness,  the  organ 
of  spiritual  perception — if  a  door  has  really  been  opened  by 
which  the  self  has  escaped  for  an  instant  to  the  vision  of 
That  Which  Is — the  ecstasy  will  be  good  for  life.  The  en- 
trancement  of  disease,  on  the  contrary,  is  always  bad  for  life. 
Its  concentration  being  upon  the  lower  instead  of  the  higher 
levels  of  mentality,  it  depresses  rather  than  enhances  the 
vitality,  the  fervour,  or  the  intelligence  of  its  subject :  and 
leaves    behind    it  an    enfeebled    will,    and    often    moral   and 

1  "  Sur  la  Psychologie  du  Mysticisme"  {Revue  Philosophique>  February,  1902). 

2  Malaval,  u  La  Pratique  de  la  Vraye  Theologie  Mystique,"  vol.  i.  p.  89. 


432  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

intellectual  chaos  : ■  "  Ecstasies  that  do  not  produce  consider- 
able profit  either  to  the  persons  themselves  or  others,  deserve 
to  be  suspected,"  says  Augustine  Baker,  "  and  when  any  marks 
of  their  approaching  are  perceived  the  persons  ought  to  divert 
their  minds  some  other  way." 2  It  is  all  the  difference  be- 
tween a  healthy  appetite  for  nourishing  food  and  a  morbid 
craving  for  garbage.  The  same  organs  of  digestion  are  used  in 
satisfying  both  :  yet  he  would  be  a  hardy  physiologist  who 
undertook  to  discredit  all  nutrition  by  a  reference  to  its 
degenerate  forms. 

Sometimes  both  kinds  of  ecstasy,  the  healthy  and  the 
psychopathic,  are  seen  in  the  same  person.  Thus  in  the 
cases  of  St.  Catherine  of  Genoa  and  St.  Catherine  of  Siena  it 
would  seem  that  as  their  health  became  feebler  and  the  nervous 
instability  always  found  in  persons  of  genius  increased,  their 
ecstasies  became  more  frequent ;  but  these  were  not  healthy 
ecstasies,  such  as  those  which  they  experienced  in  the  earlier 
stages  of  their  careers,  and  which  brought  with  them  an  access 
of  vitality.  They  were  the  results  of  the  increasing  weakness 
of  the  body,  not  of  the  overpowering  strength  of  the  spirit : 
and  there  is  evidence  that  Catherine  of  Genoa,  that  acute 
self-critic,  was  conscious  of  this  fact.  "  Those  who  attended  on 
her  did  not  know  how  to  distinguish  one  state  from  the  other. 
And  hence  on  coming  to,  she  would  sometimes  say,  "  Why  did 
you  let  me  remain  in  this  quietude,  from  which  I  have  almost 
died?  "3 

Her  earlier  ecstasies  were  very  different  from  this.  They 
had  in  a  high  degree  the  positive  character  of  exaltation  and 
life-enhancement  consequent  upon  extreme  concentration  on 
the  Absolute;  as  well  as  the  merely  negative  character  of 
annihilation  of  the  surface-consciousness.  She  came  from 
them  with  renewed  health  and  strength,  as  from  a  resting  in 
heavenly  places  and  a  feeding  on  heavenly  food :  and  side  by 
side  with  this  ecstatic  life  fulfilled  the  innumerable  duties  of 
her  active  profession  as  hospital  matron  and  spiritual  mother  of 
a  large  group  of  disciples.     "  Many   times,"  says  her  legend, 

1  Pierre  Janet  ("  The  Major  Symptoms  of  Hysteria,"  p.  316)  says  that  a  lowering 
of  the  mental  level  is  an  invariable  symptom  or  "  stigma  "  of  hysteria. 

2  "  Holy  Wisdom,"  Treatise  iii.  §  iv.  cap.  iii. 

3  VonHugel,  "  The  Mystical  Element  of  Religion,"  vol.  i.  p.  206, 


ECSTASY  AND  RAPTURE  433 

u  she  would  hide  herself  in  some  secret  place  and  there  stay : 
and  being  sought  she  was  found  upon  the  ground,  her  face 
hidden  in  her  hands,  altogether  beyond  herself,  in  such  a 
state  of  joy  as  is  beyond  thought  or  speech  :  and  being  called 
— yea,  even  in  a  loud  voice — she  heard  not.  And  at  other 
times  she  would  go  up  and  down :  ...  as  if  beyond  herself, 
drawn  by  the  impulse  of  love,  she  did  this.  And  certain  other 
times  she  remained  for  the  space  of  six  hours  as  if  dead  :  but 
hearing  herself  called,  suddenly  she  got  up,  and  answering  she 
would  at  once  go  about  all  that  needed  to  be  done,  even  the 
humblest  things.1  And  in  thus  leaving  the  All,  she  went 
without  any  grief,  because  she  fled  all  selfhood  [la  proprieta] 
as  if  it  were  the  devil.  And  when  she  came  forth  from  her 
hiding-place,  her  face  was  rosy  as  it  might  be  a  cherub's  ;  and 
it  seemed  as  if  she  might  have  said, '  Who  shall  separate  me 
from  the  love  of  God  ? ' "  2  "  Very  often,"  says  St.  Teresa, 
describing  the  results  of  such  rapturous  communion  with 
Pure  Love  as  that  from  which  St.  Catherine  came  joyous  and 
rosy-faced,  "  he  who  was  before  sickly  and  full  of  pain  comes 
forth  healthy  and  even  with  new  strength :  for  it  is  something 
great  that  is  given  to  the  soul  in  rapture."  3 

B.  Psychologically  considered,  all  ecstasy  is  a  form — the 
most  perfect  form — of  the  state  which  is  technically  called 
"complete  mono-ideism."  That  withdrawal  of  consciousness 
from  circumference  to  centre,  that  deliberate  attention  to  one 
thing,  which  we  discussed  in  Recollection,  is  here  pushed — 
voluntarily  or  involuntarily — to  its  logical  conclusion.  It  is 
(i)  always  paid  for  by  psycho-physical  disturbances;  (2)  re- 
warded in  healthy  cases  by  an  enormous  lucidity,  a  supreme 
intuition  in  regard  to  the  one  thing  on  which  the  self's  interest 
has  been  set. 

Such  ecstasy,  then,  is  an  extremely  exalted  form  of  con- 
templation, and  might  be  expected  to  develop  naturally  from 
that  state.  "  A  simple  difference  of  degree,"  says  Maury, 
"  separates  ecstasy  from  the  action  of  forcibly  fixing  an  idea 

1  This  power  of  detecting  and  hearing  the  call  of  duty  though  she  was  deaf  to 
everything  else  is  evidently  related  to  the  peculiarity  noticed  by  Ribot ;  who  says 
that  an  ecstatic  hears  no  sounds,  save,  in  some  cases,  the  voice  of  one  specific  person, 
which  is  always  able  to  penetrate  the  trance.    ("  Les  Maladies  de  la  Volonte,"  p.  125.) 

2  Vita  e  Dottrina,  cap.  v.  3  Vida,  cap.  xx.  §  29. 
FF 


/ 


434  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

in  the  mind.  Contemplation  implies  exercise  of  will  and  the 
power  of  interrupting  the  extreme  tension  of  the  mind.  In 
ecstasy,  which  is  contemplation  carried  to  its  highest  pitch,  the 
will,  although  in  the  strictest  sense  able  to  provoke  the  state, 
is  nevertheless  unable  to  suspend  it." * 

In  "  complete  mono-ideism  "  then,  the  attention  to  one  thing, 
and  the  inattention  to  all  else,  is  so  entire,  that  the  subject  is 
entranced.  Consciousness  has  been  withdrawn  from  those 
centres  which  receive  and  respond  to  the  messages  of  the 
external  world :  he  neither  sees,  feels,  nor  hears.  The  Ego 
dormio  et  cor  meutn  vigilat  of  the  contemplative  ceases  to  be  a 
metaphor,  and  becomes  a  realistic  description.  It  must  be 
remembered  that  the  whole  trend  of  mystical  education  has 
been  towards  the  production  of  this  fixity  of  attention.  Re- 
collection and  Quiet  lead  up  to  it.  Contemplation  cannot 
take  place  without  it.  All  the  mystics  assure  us  that  a  unifi- 
cation of  consciousness,  in  which  all  outward  things  are  forgot, 
is  the  necessary  prelude  of  union  with  the  Divine  :  for  con- 
sciousness of  the  Many  and  consciousness  of  the  One  are 
mutually  exclusive  states. 

Ecstasy,  for  the  psychologist,  is  just  such  a  unification  in 
its  most  extreme  form.  The  absorption  of  the  self  in  the  one 
idea,  the  one  desire,  is  so  profound — and  in  the  case  of  the 
great  mystics  so  impassioned — that  everything  else  is  blotted 
out.  The  tide  of  life  is  withdrawn,  not  only  from  those  higher 
centres  which  are  the  seats  of  perception  and  of  thought,  but 
also  from  those  lower  centres  which  govern  the  physical  life. 
The  whole  vitality  of  the  subject  is  so  concentrated  on  the 
transcendental  world — or,  in  the  case  of  a  morbid  ecstatic,  on  the 
idea  which  dominates  his  mind — that  body  and  brain  alike  are 
depleted  of  their  energy  in  the  interests  of  this  supreme  act. 

Since  mystics  have,  as  a  rule,  the  extreme  susceptibility 
to  suggestions  and  impressions  which  is  characteristic  of  all 
artistic  and  creative  types,  it  is  not  surprising  to  find  that 
their  ecstasies  are  often  evoked,  abruptly,  by  the  exhibition 
of,  or  concentration  upon,  some  loved  and  special  symbol 
of  the  divine.  Such  symbols  form  the  rallying-points  about 
which  are  gathered  a  whole  group  of  ideas  and  intuitions. 
Their  presence — sometimes  the  sudden  thought  of  them — will 
1  A.  Maury,  "  Le  Sommeil  et  les  Rives,"  p.  235. 


ECSTASY  AND  RAPTURE  435 

be  enough,  in  psychological  language,  to  provoke  a  discharge  of 
energy  along  some  particular  path :  that  is  to  say,  to  stir  to 
life  all  those  ideas  and  intuitions  which  belong  to  the  selfs 
consciousness  of  the  Absolute,  to  concentrate  vitality  on  them, 
to  shift  the  field  of  consciousness  and  initiate  the  self  into 
that  world  of  perception  of  which  they  are,  as  it  were,  the 
material  keys.  Hence  the  profound  significance  of  symbols 
for  some  mystics :  their  paradoxical  clinging  to  outward 
forms  whilst  declaring  that  the  spiritual  and  intangible  alone 
is  real. 

For  the  Christian  mystics,  the  sacraments  and  mysteries  of 
faith  have  always  provided  such  a  point  cTappui;  and  these 
symbols  often  play  a  large  part  in  the  production  of  their 
ecstasies.  In  the  case  of  St.  Catherine  of  Siena,  and  also 
very  often  in  that  of  her  namesake  of  Genoa,  the  reception  of 
Holy  Communion  was  the  prelude  to  ecstasy.  Julian  of  Nor- 
wich x  and  St.  Francis  of  Assisi 2  became  entranced  whilst 
gazing  on  the  crucifix.  We  are  told  of  Denis  the  Carthusian 
that  towards  the  end  of  his  life,  hearing  the  Veni  Creator  or 
certain  verses  of  the  psalms,  he  was  at  once  rapt  in  God  and 
lifted  up  from  the  earth.* 

Of  St.  Catherine  of  Siena,  her  biographer  says  that  "she 
used  to  communicate  with  such  fervour  that  immediately  after- 
wards she  would  pass  into  the  state  of  ecstasy,  in  which  for 
hours  she  would  be  totally  unconscious.  On  one  occasion, 
finding  her  in  this  condition,  they  (the  Dominican  friars) 
forcibly  threw  her  out  of  the  church  at  midday,  and  left  her 
in  the  heat  of  the  sun  watched  over  by  some  of  her  companions 
till  she  came  to  her  senses."  Another,  "  catching  sight  of  her 
in  the  church  when  she  was  in  ecstasy,  came  down  and  pricked 
her  in  many  places  with  a  needle.  Catherine  was  not  aroused 
in  the  least  from  her  trance,  but  afterwards,  when  she  came 
back  to  her  senses,  she  felt  the  pain  in  her  body  and  perceived 
that  she  had  thus  been  wounded." 4 

It  is  interesting  to  compare  with  this  objective  description, 
the  subjective  account  of  ecstatic  union  which  Catherine  gives 

1  "  Revelations  of  Divine  Love,"  cap.  iii. 
9   Vide  supra,  p.  2 1 8. 

'  D.  A.  Mougel,  "  Denys  le  Chartreux,"  p.  32. 
4  E.  Gardner,  "  St.  Catherine  of  Siena,  "p.  50. 


436  AN   INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

in  her  Divine  Dialogue.  Here,  for  once,  we  have  the  deeper 
self  of  the  mystic  giving  in  a  dramatic  form  its  own  account 
of  its  inward  experiences  :  hence  we  here  see  the  inward  side 
of  that  outward  state  of  entrancement  which  was  all  that 
onlookers  were  able  to  perceive.  As  usual  in  the  Dialogue, 
the  intuitive  perceptions  of  the  deeper  self  are  attributed  by 
Catherine  to  the  Divine  Voice  speaking  in  her  soul. 

"  Oftentimes,  through  the  perfect  union  which  the  soul  has 
made  with  Me,  she  is  raised  from  the  earth  almost  as  if  the 
heavy  body  became  light.  But  this  does  not  mean  that  the 
heaviness  of  the  body  is  taken  away,  but  that  the  union  of 
the  soul  with  Me  is  more  perfect  than  the  union  of  the  body 
with  the  soul ;  wherefore  the  strength  of  the  spirit,  united  with 
Me,  raises  the  weight  of  the  body  from  the  earth,  leaving  it  as 
if  immoveable  and  all  pulled  to  pieces  in  the  affection  of  the 
soul.  Thou  rememberest  to  have  heard  it  said  of  some 
creatures,  that  were  it  not  for  My  Goodness,  in  seeking 
strength  for  them,  they  would  not  be  able  to  live ;  and  I 
would  tell  thee  that,  in  the  fact  that  the  souls  of  some  do 
not  leave  their  bodies,  is  to  be  seen  a  greater  miracle  than  in 
the  fact  that  some  have  arisen  from  the  dead,  so  great  is  the 
union  which  they  have  with  Me.  I,  therefore,  sometimes  for  a 
space  withdraw  from  the  union,  making  the  soul  return  to  the 
vessel  of  her  body  .  .  .  from  which  she  was  separated  by  the 
affection  of  love.  From  the  body  she  did  not  depart,  because 
that  cannot  be  except  in  death ;  the  bodily  powers  alone  de- 
parted, becoming  united  to  Me  through  affection  of  love.  The 
memory  is  full  of  nothing  but  Me,  the  intellect,  elevated,  gazes 
upon  the  object  of  My  Truth ;  the  affection,  which  follows  the 
intellect,  loves  and  becomes  united  with  that  which  the  intellect 
sees.  These  powers,  being  united  and  gathered  together  and 
immersed  and  inflamed  in  Me,  the  body  loses  its  feeling,  so  that 
the  seeing  eye  sees  not,  and  the  hearing  ear  hears  not,  and  the 
tongue  does  not  speak ;  except  as  the  abundance  of  the  heart 
will  sometimes  permit  it  for  the  alleviation  of  the  heart  and  the 
praise  and  glory  of  My  Name.  The  hand  does  not  touch  and 
the  feet  walk  not,  because  the  members  are  bound  with  the 
sentiment  of  Love."  x 

A  healthy  ecstasy  so  deep  as  this  seems  to  be  the  exclusive 

1  Dialogo,  cap.  lxxix. 


ECSTASY  AND   RAPTURE  437 

prerogative  of  the  mystics  :  perhaps  because  so  great  a  passion, 
so  profound  a  concentration,  can  be  produced  by  nothing 
smaller  than  their  flaming  love  of  God.  But  as  the  machinery 
of  contemplation  is  employed  more  or  less  consciously  by  all 
types  of  creative  genius  :  by  inventors  and  philosophers,  by 
poets,  prophets,  and  musicians,  by  all  the  followers  of  the 
"  Triple  Star,"  no  less  than  by  the  mystic  saints :  so  too, 
this  apotheosis  of  contemplation,  the  ecstatic  state,  does  appear 
in  a  less  violent  form,  acting  healthily  and  normally,  wherever 
we  have  the  artistic  and  creative  personality  in  a  complete 
state  of  development.  It  accompanies  the  prophetic  intuitions 
of  the  seer,  the  lucidity  of  the  great  metaphysician,  the  artist's 
supreme  perception  of  beauty  or  truth.  As  the  saint  is  "  caught 
up  to  God,"  so  these  are  "  caught  up "  to  their  vision  :  their 
partial  apprehensions  of  the  Absolute  Life.  Those  joyous, 
expansive  outgoing  sensations,  characteristic  of  the  ecstatic 
consciousness,  are  theirs  also.  Their  great  creations  are  trans- 
lations to  us,  not  of  something  they  have  thought,  but  of 
something  they  have  known,  in  a  moment  of  ecstatic  union 
with  the  "  great  life  of  the  All." 

We  begin,  then,  to  think  that  the  "pure  mono-ideism,"  which 
the  psychologist  identifies  with  ecstasy,  though  doubtless  a  part, 
is  far  from  being  the  whole  content  of  this  state.  True,  the 
ecstatic  is  absorbed  in  his  one  idea,  his  one  love :  he  is  in  it 
and  with  it :  it  fills  his  universe.  But  this  unified  state  of 
consciousness  does  not  merely  pore  upon  something  already 
possessed.  When  it  only  does  this,  it  is  diseased.  Its  true  busi- 
ness is  pure  perception.  It  is  outgoing,  expansive :  its  goal  is 
something  beyond  itself.  The  rearrangement  of  the  psychic 
self  which  occurs  in  ecstasy  is  not  merely  concerned  with  the 
normal  elements  of  consciousness.  It  is  a  temporary  unifica- 
tion of  consciousness  around  that  centre  of  transcendental 
perception  which  mystics  call  the  "  spark  of  the  soul."  Those 
deeper  layers  of  personality  which  normal  life  keeps  below 
the  threshold  are  active  in  it :  and  these  are  fused  with  the 
surface  personality  by  the  governing  passion,  the  transcendent 
love  which  lies  at  the  basis  of  all  sane  ecstatic  states. 

The  result  is  not  merely  a  mind  concentrated  on  one  idea, 
nor  a  heart  fixed  on  one  desire,  nor  even  a  mind  and  a  heart 
united  in  the  interests  of  a  beloved  thought :  but  a  whole  being 


438  AN   INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

welded  into  one,  all  its  faculties,  neglecting  their  normal  uni- 
verse, grouped  about  a  new  centre,  serving  a  new  life,  and 
piercing  like  a  single  flame  the  barriers  of  the  sensual  world. 
Ecstasy  is  the  psycho-physical  state  which  generally  accom- 
panies and  expresses  this  brief  synthetic  act. 

C.  Therefore,  whilst  on  its  physical  side  ecstasy  is  an  enhance- 
ment, on  its  mental  side  a  complete  unification  of  consciousness: 
on  its  mystical  side  it  is  an  exalted  act  of  perception.  It 
represents  the  greatest  possible  extension  of  the  spiritual 
consciousness  in  the  direction  of  Pure  Being  :  the  "  blind  intent 
stretching  "  here  receives  its  reward  in  a  profound  experience  of 
Eternal  Life.  In  this  experience  the  departmental  activities 
of  thought  and  feeling,  the  consciousness  of  I -hood,  of  space 
and  time — all  that  belongs  to  the  World  of  Becoming  and 
our  own  place  therein — are  suspended.  The  vitality  which  we 
are  accustomed  to  split  amongst  these  various  things,  is  gathered 
up  to  form  a  state  of  "  pure  apprehension  "  :  a  vivid  intuition  of 
— or  if  you  like  conjunction  with — the  Transcendent.  For  the 
time  of  his  ecstasy  the  mystic  is,  for  all  practical  purposes,  as 
truly  living  in  the  supersensual  world  as  the  normal  human 
animal  is  living  in  the  sensual  world.  He  is  experiencing  the 
highest  and  most  joyous  of  those  temporary  and  unstable  states 
in  which  his  consciousness  escapes  the  limitations  of  the  senses, 
rises  to  freedom,  and  is  united  for  an  instant  with  the  "  great 
life  of  the  All." 

Ecstasy,  then,  from  the  contemplatives'  point  of  view,  is  the 
development  and  completion  of  the  orison  of  union  :  and  he 
is  not  always  at  pains  to  distinguish  the  two  degrees,  a  fact 
which  adds  greatly  to  the  difficulties  of  students.1  In  both 
states — though  he  may,  for  want  of  better  language,  describe 
his  experience  in  terms  of  sight — the  Transcendent  is  perceived 
by  contact,  not  by  vision :  as,  enfolded  in  darkness  with  one 
whonT~we  love,  we  obtain  a  knowledge  far  more  complete 
than  that  conferred  by  the  sharpest  sight,  the  most  perfect 
mental  analysis.  In  Ecstasy,  the  apprehension  is  perhaps  more 
definitely  "beatific"  than  in  the  orison  of  union.  Such  memory 
of  his  feeling-states  as  the  ecstatic  brings  back  with  him  is  more 
often  concerned  with  an  exultant  certainty — a  conviction  that 

1  In  the  case  of  Dante,  for  instance,  we  do  not  know  whether  his  absorption  in 
the  Eternal  Light  did  or  did  not  entail  the  condition  of  trance. 


ECSTASY  AND   RAPTURE  439 

he  has  known  for  once  the  Reality  which  hath  no  image,  and 
solved  the  paradox  of  life — than  with  meek  self-loss  in  that 
Cloud  of  Unknowing  where  the  contemplative  in  union  is 
content  to  meet  his  Beloved.  The  true  note  of  ecstasy,  how- 
ever, its  only  valid  distinction  from  infused  contemplation,  lies 
in  entrancement ;  in  "  being  ravished  out  of  fleshly  feeling,"  as 
St.  Paul  caught  up  to  the  Third  Heaven,1  not  in  "the  lifting 
of  mind  unto  God."  This,  of  course,  is  an  outward  distinction 
only,  and  a  rough  one  at  that,  since  entrancement  has  many 
degrees :  but  it  will  be  found  the  only  practical  basis  of 
classification. 

Probably  none  but  those  who  have  experienced  these  states 
know  the  actual  difference  between  them.  Even  St.  Teresa's 
psychological  insight  fails  her  here,  and  she  is  obliged  to  fall 
back  on  the  difference  between  voluntary  and  involuntary 
absorption  in  the  divine  :  a  difference,  not  in  spiritual  values, 
but  merely  in  the  psycho-physical  constitutions  of  those  who 
have  perceived  these  values.  "  I  wish  I  could  explain  with  the 
help  of  God,"  she  says,  "  wherein  union  differs  from  rapture,  or 
from  transport,  or  from  flight  of  the  spirit,  as  they  call  it,  or 
from  trance,  which  are  all  one.  I  mean  that  all  these  are 
only  different  names  for  that  one  and  the  same  thing,  which  is 
also  called  ecstasy.  It  is  more  excellent  than  union,  the  fruits 
of  it  are  much  greater,  and  its  other  operations  more  manifold, 
for  union  is  uniform  in  the  beginning,  the  middle,  and  the  end, 
and  is  so  also  interiorly;  but  as  raptures  have  ends  of  a  much 
higher  kind,  they  produce  effects  both  within  and  without  [i.e., 
both  physical  and  psychical],  ...  A  rapture  is  absolutely  irre- 
sistible ;  whilst  union,  inasmuch  as  we  are  then  on  our  own 
ground,  may  be  hindered,  though  that  resistance  be  painful 
and  violent."  2 

From  the  point  of  View  of  mystical  psychology,  our  interest 
in  ecstasy  will  centre  in  two  points,  (i)  What  has  the  mystic 
to  tell  us  of  the  Object  of  his  ecstatic  perception  ?  (2)  What  is 
the  nature  of  the  peculiar  consciousness  which  he  enjoys  in  his 
trance  ?  That  is  to  say,  what  news  does  he  bring  us  as  to  the 
Being  of  God  and  the  powers  of  man  ? 

It  may  be  said  generally  that  on  both  these  points  he  bears 
out,  amplifies,  and  expresses  under  formulae  of  greater  splendour, 

1  2  Cor.  xii.  1-6.  2  Vida,  cap.  xx.  §§  I  and  3. 


440  AN  INTRODUCTION   TO   MYSTICISM 

with  an  accent  of  greater  conviction,  the  general  testimony  of 
the  contemplatives.  In  fact,  we  must  never  forget  that  an 
ecstatic  is  really  nothing  else  than  a  contemplative  of  a  special 
kind,  with  a  special  psycho-physical  make-up.  Moreover,  we 
have  seen  that  it  is  not  always  easy  to  determine  the  exact 
point  at  which  entrancement  takes  place,  and  deep  contempla- 
tion assumes  the  ecstatic  form.  The  classification,  like  all 
classifications  of  mental  states,  is  an  arbitrary  one.  Whilst  the 
extreme  cases  present  no  difficulty,  there  are  others  less  com- 
plete, which  form  a  graduated  series  between  the  deeps  of  the 
"  Quiet "  and  the  heights  of  "  Rapture."  We  shall  never  know, 
for  instance,  whether  the  ecstasies  of  Plotinus  and  of  Pascal 
involved  true  bodily  entrancement,  or  only  a  deep  absorption  of 
the  "  unitive  "  kind.  So,  too,  the  language  of  many  Christian 
mystics  when  speaking  of  their  "raptures"  is  so  vague  and 
metaphorical  that  it  leaves  us  in  great  doubt  as  to  whether  they 
mean  by  Rapture  the  abrupt  suspension  of  normal  conscious- 
ness, or  merely  a  sudden  and  agreeable  elevation  of  soul. 

"  Ravishing,"  says  Rolle,  "  as  it  is  showed,  in  two  ways 
is  to  be  understood.  One  manner,  forsooth,  in  which  a  man  is 
ravished  out  of  fleshly  feeling ;  so  that  for  the  time  of  his 
ravishing  plainly  he  feels  not  in  flesh,  nor  what  is  done  of  his 
flesh,  and  yet  he  is  not  dead  but  quick,  for  yet  the  soul  to  the 
body  gives  life.  And  on  this  manner  saints  sometime  are 
ravished  to  their  profit  and  other  men's  learning ;  as  Paul 
ravished  to  the  third  heaven.  And  on  this  manner  sinners  also 
in  vision  sometime  are  ravished,  that  they  may  see  joys  of 
saints  and  pains  of  damned  for  their  correction.1  And  many 
other  as  we  read  of.  Another  manner  of  ravishing  there  is,  that 
is  lifting  of  mind  into  God  by  contemplation.  And  this  manner 
of  ravishing  is  in  all  that  are  perfect  lovers  of  God,  and  in  none 
but  in  them  that  love  God.  And  as  well  this  is  called  a  ravish- 
ing as  the  other  ;  for  with  a  violence  it  is  done,  and  as  it  were 
against  nature."  2 

It  is,  however,  very  confusing  to  the  anxious  inquirer  when 

€  Compare  Dante,  Letter  to  Can  Grande,  sect.  28,  where  he  adduces  this 
fact  of  "  the  ravishing  of  sinners  for  their  correction,"  in  support  of  his  claim  that  the 
"Divine  Comedy"  is  the  fruit  of  experience,  and  ihat  he  had  indeed  "navigated  the 
great  Sea  of  Being  "  of  which  he  writes. 

a  Richard  Rolle,  "  The  Fire  of  Love,"  bk.  ii   cap.  vii. 


ECSTASY  AND   RAPTURE  441 

— as  too  often — "  lifting  of  mind  by  contemplation  "  is  "  as  well 
called  a  ravishing  as  the  other,"  and  ecstasy  is  used  as  a 
synonym  for  gladness  of  heart.  Here,  so  far  as  is  possible, 
these  words  will  be  confined  to  their  strict  meaning  and  not 
applied  generally  to  the  description  of  all  the  outgoing  and 
expansive  states  of  the  transcendental  consciousness. 

What  does  the  mystic  claim  that  he  attains  in  this  abnormal 
condition — this  irresistible  trance  ?  The  price  that  he  pays  is  a 
heavy  one,  involving  much  psycho-physical  wear  and  tear. 

He  declares  that  his  rapture  or  ecstasy  includes  a  moment — 
often  a  very  short,  and  always  an  indescribable  moment — in 
which  he  enjoys  a  supreme  knowledge  of  or  participation  in 
Divine  Reality.  He  tells  us  under  various  metaphors  that  he 
then  attains  Pure  Being,  his  Source,  his  Origin,  his  Beloved :  "  is 
engulphed  in  the  very  thing  for  which  he  longs,  which  is  God."  1 
"  Oh,  wonder  of  wonders,"  cries  Eckhart,  "  when  I  think  of  the 
union  the  soul  has  with  God  !  He  makes  the  enraptured  soul 
to  flee  out  of  herself,  for  she  is  no  more  satisfied  with  anything 
that  can  be  named.  The  spring  of  Divine  Love  flows  out  of  the 
soul  and  draws  her  out  of  herself  into  the  unnamed  Being,  into 
her  first  source,  which  is  God  alone."  2 

This  momentary  attainment  of  the  Source,  the  Origin,  is 
the  theme  of  all  descriptions  of  mystic  ecstasy.  In  Rulman 
Merswin's  "  Book  of  the  Nine  Rocks,"  that  brief  and  overwhelm- 
ing rapture  is  the  end  of  the  pilgrim's  long  trials  and  ascents. 
"  The  vision  of  the  Infinite  lasted  only  for  a  moment :  when  he 
came  to  himself  he  felt  inundated  with  life  and  joy.  He  asked, 
"  Where  have  I  been  ?  "  and  he  was  answered,  "  In  the  upper 
school  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  There  you  were  surrounded  by  the 
dazzling  pages  of  the  Book  of  Divine  Wisdom.3  Your  soul 
plunged  therein  with  delight,  and  the  Divine  Master  of  the 
school  has  filled  her  with  an  exuberant  love  by  which  even 
your  physical  nature  has  been  transfigured."  4 

Another  Friend  of  God,  Ellina  von  Crevelsheim,  who  was  of 
so  abnormal  a  psychic  constitution  that  her  absorption  in  the 

1  Dante,  loc.  cit. 

2  Eckhart,  "  On  the  Steps  of  the  Soul  "  (Pfeiffer,  p.  153). 

3  Compare  Par.  xxxiii.  85  (vide  supra,  p.  160). 

4  Jundt,   "Rulman  Merswin,"  p.  27.     Note   that  this  was  a   "good  ecstasy," 
involving  healthful  effects  for  life. 


142  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

Divine  Love  caused  her  to  remain  dumb  for  seven  years,  was 
"  touched  by  the  Hand  of  God  "  at  the  end  of  that  period,  and 
fell  into  a  five-days'  ecstasy,  in  which  "  pure  truth  "  was  revealed 
to  her,  and  she  was  lifted  up  to  an  immediate  experience  of  the 
Absolute.  There  she  "  saw  the  interior  of  the  Father's  heart," 
and  was  "  bound  with  chains  of  love,  enveloped  in  light,  and 
filled  with  peace  and  joy."1 

In  this  transcendent  act  of  union  the  mystic  sometimes  says 
that  he  is  "  conscious  of  nothing."  But  it  is  clear  that  this 
expression  is  figurative,  for  otherwise  he  would  not  have  known 
that  there  had  been  an  act  of  union  :  were  his  individuality 
abolished,  it  could  not  have  been  aware  of  its  attainment  of 
God.  What  he  appears  to  mean  is  that  consciousness  so 
changes  its  form  as  to  be  no  longer  recognizable :  or  describable 
in  human  speech.  In  the  paradoxical  language  of  Richard  of 
St.  Victor,  "  In  a  wondrous  fashion  remembering  we  do  not 
remember,  seeing  we  do  not  see,  understanding  we  not  under- 
stand, penetrating  we  do  not  penetrate."  2  In  this  wholly  in- 
describable but  most  actual  state,  the  whole  self,  exalted  and  at 
white  heat,  is  unified  and  poured  out  in  one  vivid  act  of  impas- 
sioned perception,  which  leaves  no  room  for  reflection  or  self- 
observation.  That  aloof  "  somewhat  "  in  us  which  watches  all 
our  actions,  splits  our  consciousness,  has  been  submerged.  The 
mystic  is  attending  exclusively  to  Eternity,  not  to  his  own 
perception  of  Eternity.  That  he  can  only  consider  when  the 
ecstasy  itself  is  at  an  end. 

"All  things  I  then  forgot, 

My  cheek  on  Him  Who  for  my  coming  came, 

All  ceased,  and  I  was  not, 

Leaving  my  cares  and  shame 
Among  the  lilies,  and  forgetting  them '' 3 

This  is  that  state  of  perfect  unity  of  consciousness,  of  utter 
concentration  on  an  experience  of  love,  which  excludes  all  con- 
ceptual and  analytic  acts.  Hence,  when  the  mystic  says  that 
his  faculties   were    suspended,  that   he    "  knew  all   and    knew 

1  Jundt,  "  Les  Amis  de  Dieu,"  p.  39.     Given  also  by  Rufus  Jones,  "Studies  in 
Mystical  Religion,"  p.  271. 

2  "  Benjamin  Major." 

3  St.  John  of  the  Cross,   "  En  una  Noche  Escura." 


ECSTASY  AND   RAPTURE  443 

nought,"  he  really  means  that  he  was  so  concentrated  on  the 
Absolute  that  he  ceased  to  consider  his  separate  existence  :  so 
merged  in  it  that  he  could  not  perceive  it  as  an  object  of 
thought,  as  the  bird  cannot  see  the  air  which  supports  it,  nor 
the  fish  the  ocean  in  which  it  swims.  He  really  "  knows  all  * 
but  "  thinks  "  nought :  "  perceives  all,"  but  "  conceives  nought." 

The  ecstatic  consciousness  is  not  self-conscious :  it  is  intui- 
tive, not  discursive.  Under  the  sway  of  a  great  passion, 
possessed  by  a  great  Idea,  it  has  become  "a  single  state  of 
enormous  intensity."  x  In  this  state,  it  transcends  all  our  ordi- 
nary machinery  of  knowledge,  and  plunges  deep  into  the  Heart 
of  Reality.  A  fusion  which  is  the  anticipation  of  the  unitive 
life  takes  place  :  and  the  ecstatic  returns  from  this  brief  fore- 
taste of  freedom  saying,  in  the  words  of  a  living  mystical  philo- 
sopher, "  I  know,  as  having  known,  the  meaning  of  Existence  ; 
the  sane  centre  of  the  universe — at  once  the  wonder  and  the 
assurance  of  the  soul."  2  "  This  utter  transformation  of  the  soul 
in  God,"  says  St.  Teresa,  describing  the  same  experience  in  the 
official  language  of  theology,  "  continues  only  for  an  instant : 
yet  while  it  continues  no  faculty  of  the  soul  is  aware  of  it,  or 
knows  what  is  passing  there.  Nor  can  it  be  understood  while 
we  are  living  on  the  earth  ;  at  least  God  will  not  have  us  under- 
stand it,  because  we  must  be  incapable  of  understanding  it.  I 
know  it  by  experienced  3 

The  utterances  of  those  who  know  by  experience  are  here  of 
more  worth  than  all  the  statements  of  psychology,  which  are 
concerned  of  necessity  with  the  "outward  signs"  of  this 
"  inward  and  spiritual  grace."  To  these  we  must  go  if  we  would 
obtain  some  hint  of  that  which  ecstasy  may  mean  to  the 
ecstatic. 

"  When  the  soul,  forgetting  itself,  dwells  in  that  radiant  dark- 
ness," says  Suso,  "  it  loses  all  its  faculties  and  all  its  qualities, 
as  St.  Bernard  has  said.  And  this,  more  or  less  completely, 
according  to  whether  the  soul — whether  in  the  body  or  out  of 
the  body — is  more  or  less  united  to  God.  This  forgetfulness  of 
self    is,   in    a  measure,   a  transformation   in    God ;    who   then 

1  Ribot,  "  Psychologie  de  l'Attention,"  cap.  iii. 

2  B.  P.  Blood.  See  William  James,  "A  Pluralistic  Mystic,"  in  the  Hibbert 
Journal,  July,  1910. 

3  Vida,  cap.  xx.  §  24. 


444  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

becomes,  in  a  certain  manner,  all  things  for  the  soul,  as 
Scripture  saith.  In  this  rapture  the  soul  disappears,  but  not 
yet  entirely.  It  acquires,  it  is  true,  certain  qualities  of  divinity, 
but  does  not  naturally  become  divine.  ...  To  speak  in  the 
common  language,  the  soul  is  rapt,  by  the  divine  power  of 
resplendent  Being,  above  its  natural  faculties,  into  the  nakedness 
of  the  Nothing."  « 

Here,  of  course,  Suso  is  trying  to  describe  his  rapturous 
attainment  of  God  in  the  negative  terms  of  Dionysian  theology. 
It  is  likely  enough  that  much  of  the  language  of  that  theology 
originated,  not  in  the  abstract  philosophizings,  but  in  the  actual 
ecstatic  experience,  of  the  Neoplatonists,  who — Christian  and 
Pagan  alike — believed  in,  and  sometimes  deliberately  induced, 
this  condition  as  the  supreme  method  of  attaining  the  One. 
The  whole  Christian  doctrine  of  ecstasy,  on  its  metaphysical 
side,  really  descends  from  that  great  practical  transcendentalist 
Plotinus :  who  is  said  to  have  attained  this  state  three  times,  and 
has  left  in  his  Sixth  Ennead  a  description  of  it  obviously  based 
upon  his  own  experiences.  "  Then,"  he  says,  "  the  soul  neither 
sees,  nor  distinguishes  by  seeing,  nor  imagines  that  there  are 
two  things  ;  but  becomes  as  it  were  another  thing,  and  not  itself. 
Nor  does  that  which  pertains  to  itself  contribute  anything  there. 
But  becoming  wholly  absorbed  in  Deity,  she  is  One,  conjoining 
as  it  were  centre  with  centre.  For  here  concurring  they  are 
One  ;  but  when  they  are  separate,  they  are  two.  .  .  .  Therefore 
in  this  conjunction  with  Deity  there  were  not  two  things,  but  the 
perceiver  was  one  with  the  thing  perceived,  as  not  being  Vision 
but  Union ;  whoever  becomes  one  by  mingling  with  Deity,  and 
afterwards  recollects  this  union,  will  have  within  himself  an 
image  of  it.  .  .  .  For  then  there  was  not  anything  excited  with 
him  who  had  ascended  thither ;  neither  anger,  nor  desire  of 
anything  else,  nor  reason,  nor  a  certain  intellectual  perception, 
nor,  in  short,  was  he  himself  moved,  if  it  be  needful  also  to 
assert  this ;  but,  being  as  it  were  in  an  ecstasy,  or  energizing 
enthusiastically,  he  became  established  in  quiet  and  solitary 
union."  2  Ecstasy,  says  Plotinus  in  another  part  of  the  same 
treatise,  is  "  an  expansion  or  accession,  a  desire  of  contact,  rest, 
and  a  striving  after  conjunction."  All  the  phases  of  the  con- 
templative experience  seem  to  be  summed  up  in  this  phrase. 

1  Leben,  cap.  lv.  2  Ennead  vi.  9. 


ECSTASY  AND  RAPTURE  445 

It  has  been  said  by  some  critics  that  the  ecstasy  of  Plotinus 
was  wholly  different  in  kind  from  the  ecstasy  of  the  Christian 
saints:  that  it  was  a  philosophic  rhapsody,  something  like 
Plato's  "saving  madness,"  which  is  also  regarded  on  wholly 
insufficient  evidence  as  being  an  affair  of  the  head  and  entirely 
unconnected  with  the  heart.  At  first  sight  the  arid  meta- 
physical language  in  which  Plotinus  tries  to  tell  his  love,  offers 
some  ground  for  this  view.  But  whatever  philosophic  towers  of 
Babel  he  may  build  on  it,  the  ecstasy  itself  is  a  practical 
matter ;  and  has  its  root,  not  in  reason,  but  in  a  deep-seated 
passion  for  the  Absolute  which  is  far  nearer  to  the  mystic's 
love  of  God  than  to  any  intellectual  curiosity,  however 
sublime.  The  few  passages  in  which  it  is  mentioned  tell  us 
what  his  mystical  genius  drove  him  to  do :  and  not  what  his 
philosophical  mind  encouraged  him  to  think  or  say.  At  once 
when  we  come  to  these  passages  we  notice  a  rise  of  tempera- 
ture, an  alteration  of  values.  Plotinus  the  ecstatic  is  sure, 
whatever  Plotinus  the  metaphysician  may  think,  that  the  union 
with  God  is  a  union  of  hearts :  that  "  by  love  He  may  be  gotten 
and  holden,  but  by  thought  never."  He,  no  less  than  the 
mediaeval  contemplatives,  is  convinced — to  quote  his  own  words 
— that  the  Vision  is  only  for  the  desirous  ;  for  him  who  has  that 
"  loving  passion  "  which  M  causes  the  lover  to  rest  in  the  object 
of  his  love."  J  The  simile  of  marriage,  of  conjunction  as  the 
soul's  highest  bliss,  which  we  are  sometimes  told  that  we  owe  in 
part  to  the  unfortunate  popularity  of  the  Song  of  Solomon,  in 
part  to  the  sexual  aberrations  of  celibate  saints,  is  found  in  the 
work  of  this  hard-headed  Pagan  philosopher :  who  was  as  cele- 
brated for  his  practical  kindness  and  robust  common  sense 
as  for  his  transcendent  intuitions  of  the  One. 

The  greatest  of  the  Pagan  ecstatics,  then,  when  speaking 
from  experience,  anticipates  the  Christian  contemplatives.  His 
words,  too,  when  compared  with  theirs,  show  how  delicate  are 
the  shades  which  distinguish  ecstasy  such  as  this  from  the 
highest  forms  of  orison  ;  how  clumsy  are  those  psychologists 
who  find  in  "  passivity  and  annihilation  of  the  will  "  its  governing 
state.  "  Energizing  enthusiastically  " — not  in  itself,  or  by  means 
of  its  poor  scattered  faculties,  but  in  the  Divine  Life,  to  which  it 
is  conjoined   for  an  instant  of  time  "  centre  to  centre,"  "  per- 

1  Op.  cit.t  loc.  cit. 


446  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

ceiver  and  perceived  made  one " — this  is  as  near  as  the  subtle 
intellect  of  Alexandria  can  come  to  the  reality  of  that  experi- 
ence in  which  the  impassioned  mono-ideism  of  great  spiritual 
genius  conquers  the  rebellious  senses  and  becomes,  if  only  for 
a  moment,  operative  on  the  highest  levels  accessible  to  the 
human  soul.  Self-mergence,  then — that  state  of  transcendence 
in  which,  the  barriers  of  selfhood  abolished,  we  "receive  the 
communication  of  Life  and  of  Beatitude,  in  which  all  things  are 
consummated  and  all  things  are  renewed  " J — is  the  secret  of 
ecstasy,  as  it  was  the  secret  of  contemplation.  On  their  spiritual 
side  the  two  states  cannot,  save  for  convenience  of  description,  be 
divided.  Where  contemplation  becomes  expansive,  out-going, 
self-giving,  and  receives  a  definite  fruition  of  the  Absolute  in 
return,  its  content  is  already  ecstatic.  Whether  its  outward  form 
shall  be  so  depends  on  the  body  of  the  mystic,  not  on  his  soul. 


w  Se  1'  acto  della  mente 
e  tutto  consopito, 
en  Dio  stando  rapito, 
ch'  en  se  non  se  retrova. 


En  mezo  de  sto  mare 
essendo  si  abyssato, 
gia  non  ce  trova  lato 
onde  ne  possa  uscire. 

De  se  non  puo  pensare 
ne  dir  como  e  formato 
pero  che,  trasformato, 
altro  si  ha  vestire. 

Tutto  lo  suo  sentire 
en  ben  si  va  notando, 
belleza  contemplando 
la  qual  non  ha  colore."3 


Thus  sang  Jacopone  da  Todi  of  the  ecstatic  soul :  and  here  the 

1  Ruysbroeck,  *'  De  Contemplatione  "  (Plello,  p.  144). 

2  "The  activity  of  the  mind  is  lulled  to  rest :  wrapped  in  God,  it  can  no  longer 
find  itself.  .  .  .  Being  so  deeply  engulphed  in  that  ocean  now  it  can  find  no  place 
to  issue  therefrom.  Of  itself  it  cannot  think,  nor  can  it  say  what  it  is  like  :  because, 
transformed,  it  hath  another  vesture.  All  its  perceptions  have  gone  forth  to  gaze 
upon  the  Good,  and  contemplate  that  Beauty  which  has  no  likeness  "  (Lauda  xci.). 


ECSTASY  AND  RAPTURE  447 

descriptive  powers  of  one  who  was  both  a  poet  and  a  mystic 
bring  life  and  light  to  the  dry  theories  of  psychology. 

He  continues — and  here,  in  perhaps  the  finest  of  all  poetic 
descriptions  of  ecstasy,  he  seems  to  echo  at  one  point  Plotinus, 
at  another  Richard  of  St.  Victor  :  to  at  once  veil  and  reveal,  by 
means  of  his  perfect  command  of  the  resources  of  rhythm,  the 
utmost  secrets  of  the  mystic  life : — 

"  Aperte  son  le  porte 

facta  ha  conjunctione 
et  e  in  possessione 
de  tutto  quel  de  Dio. 

Sente  que  non  sentio, 
que  non  cognove  vede, 
possede  que  non  crede, 
gusta  senza  sapore. 

Per6  ch'  a  se  perduto 
tutto  senza  misura, 
possede  quel  altura 
de  summa  smesuranza. 

Perche  non  ha  tenuto 
en  se  altra  mistura, 
quel  ben  senza  figura 
receve  en  abondanza."* 

This  ineffable  "  awareness,"  en  dio  stando  rapito,  this  union 
with  the  Imageless  Good,  is  not  the  only — though  it  is  the 
purest — form  taken  by  ecstatic  apprehension.  Many  of  the 
visions  and  voices  described  in  a  previous  chapter  were  experi- 
enced in  the  entranced  or  ecstatic  state,  generally  when  the 
first  violence  of  the  rapture  was  passed.  St.  Francis  and  St. 
Catherine  of  Siena  both  received  the  stigmata  in  ecstasy  :  almost 
all  the  entrancements  of  Suso,  and  many  of  those  of  St.  Teresa 
and  Angela  of  Foligno,  entailed  symbolic  vision,  rather  than 
pure  perception  of  the  Absolute.  More  and  more,  then,  we  are 
forced   to   the   opinion    that  ecstasy,  in  so  far  as  it  is   not  a 

1  "  The  doors  are  flung  wide  :  conjoined  to  God,  it  possesses  all  that  is  in  Him. 
It  feels  that  which  it  felt  not :  sees  that  which  it  knew  not,  possesses  that  which  it 
believed  not,  tastes,  though  it  savours  not.  Because  it  is  wholly  lost  to  itself,  it 
possesses  that  height  of  Unmeasured  Perfection.  Because  it  has  not  retained  in 
itself  the  mixture  of  any  other  thing,  it  has  received  in  abundance  that  Imageless 
Good  "  {op.  cit.). 


448  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

synonym  for  joyous  and  expansive  contemplation,  is  really  the 
name  of  the  outward  condition  rather  than  of  any  one  kind 
of  inward  experience. 

Rapture 

In  all  the  cases  which  we  have  been  considering — and  they 
are  characteristic  of  a  large  group — the  onset  of  ecstasy  has 
been  seen  as  a  gradual,  though  always  involuntary,  process. 
Generally  it  has  been  the  culminating  point  of  a  period  of 
contemplation.  The  self,  absorbed  in  the  orison  of  quiet  or  of 
union,  or  some  analogous  concentration  on  its  transcendental 
interests,  has  passed  over  the  limit  of  these  states,  and  slid  into 
a  still  ecstatic  trance,  with  its  outward  characteristics  of  rigid 
limbs,  cold,  and  depressed  respiration. 

The  ecstasy  however,  instead  of  developing  naturally  from  a 
state  of  intense  absorption  in  the  Divine  Vision,  may  seize  him 
abruptly  and  irresistibly  when  he  in  his  normal  state  of  con- 
sciousness. This  is  strictly  that  which  ascetic  writers  mean  by 
Rapture.  We  have  seen  that  the  essence  of  the  mystic  life  con- 
sists in  the  remaking  of  personality :  its  entrance  into  a 
conscious  relation  with  the  Absolute.  This  process  is  accom- 
panied in  the  mystic  by  the  development  of  an  art  expressive  of 
his  peculiar  genius  :  the  art  of  contemplation.  His  practice  of 
this  art,  like  the  practice  of  poetry,  music,  or  any  other  form 
of  creation,  may  follow  normal  lines,  at  first  amenable  to  the 
control  of  his  will,  and  always  dependent  on  his  own  deliberate 
attention  to  the  supreme  Object  of  his  quest ;  that  is  to  say,  on 
his  orison.  His  mystic  states,  however  they  may  end,  will  owe 
their  beginning  to  a  voluntary  act  upon  his  part :  a  turning  from 
the  visible  to  the  invisible  world.  Sometimes,  however,  his 
genius  for  the  transcendent  becomes  too  strong  for  the  other 
elements  of  character,  and  manifests  itself  in  psychic  disturb- 
ances— abrupt  and  ungovernable  invasions  from  the  subliminal 
region — which  make  its  exercise  parallel  to  the  "  fine  frenzy  " 
of  the  prophet,  the  composer,  or  the  poet.  Such  is  Rapture :  a 
violent  and  uncontrollable  expression  of  genius  for  the  Absolute, 
which  temporarily  disorganizes  and  may  permanently  injure  the 
nervous  system  of  the  self.  Often,  but  not  necessarily,  Rapture — 
like  its  poetic  equivalent — yields  results  of  great  splendour  and 
value  for  life.     But  it  is  an  accident,  not  an  implicit  of  mystical 


ECSTASY  AND  RAPTURE  449 

experience :  an  indication  of  disharmony  between  the  subject's 
psycho-physical  make-up  and  his  transcendental  powers,     v 

Rapture,  then,  may  accompany  the  whole  development  of 
selves  of  an  appropriate  type.  We  have  seen  that  it  is  a 
common  incident  in  mystical  conversion.  The  violent  uprush 
of  subliminal  intuitions  by  which  such  conversion  is  marked 
disorganizes  the  normal  consciousness,  overpowers  the  will 
and  the  senses,  and  entails  a  more  or  less  complete  entrance- 
ment.  This  was  certainly  the  case  with  Suso  and  Rulman 
Merswin,  and  probably  with  Pascal :  whose  "  Certitude,  Peace, 
Joy  "  sums  up  the  exalted  intuition  of  Perfection  and  Reality — 
the  conviction  of  a  final  and  unforgettable  knowledge — which 
is  characteristic  of  all  ecstatic  perception. 

In  her  Spiritual  Relations,  St.  Teresa  speaks  in  some  detail 
of  the  different  phases  or  forms  of  expression  of  these  violent 
ecstatic  states  :  trance,  which  in  her  system  means  that  which  we 
have  called  ecstasy,  and  transport,  or  "flight  of  the  spirit,"  which 
is  the  equivalent  of  rapture.  "  The  difference  between  trance 
and  transport,"  she  says,  "  is  this.  In  a  trance  the  soul  gradually 
dies  to  outward  things,  losing  the  senses  and  living  unto  God. 
But  a  transport  comes  on  by  one  sole  act  of  His  Majesty, 
wrought  in  the  innermost  part  of  the  soul  with  such  swiftness 
that  it  is  as  if  the  higher  part  thereof  were  carried  away,  and  the 
soul  were  leaving  the  body."  r 

Rapture,  says  St.  Teresa  in  another  place,  "comes  in 
general  as  a  shock,  quick  and  sharp,  before  you  can  collect  your 
thoughts,  or  help  yourself  in  any  way  ;  and  you  see  and  feel  it 
as  a  cloud,  or  a  strong  eagle  rising  upwards  and  carrying  you 
away  on  its  wings.  I  repeat  it :  you  feel  and  see  yourself 
carried  away,  you  know  not  whither." 2  This  carrying-away 
sensation  may  even  assume  the  concrete  form  which  is  known 
as  levitation :  when  the  upward  and  outward  sensations  so 
dominate  the  conscious  field  that  the  subject  is  convinced  that 
she  is  raised  bodily  from  the  ground.  "It  seemed  to  me,  when 
I  tried  to  make  some  resistance,  as  if  a  great  force  beneath  my 
feet  lifted  me  up.  I  know  of  nothing  with  which  to  compare  it ; 
but  it  was  much  more  violent  than  the  other  spiritual  visitations, 
and  I  was  therefore  as  one  ground  to  pieces.  .  .  .  And  further, 
I  confess  that  it  threw  me  into  a  great  fear,  very  great  indeed  at 
x  Relaccion  viii.  8  and  10.  9  Vida,  cap.  xx.  §  3. 

GG 


450  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

first ;  for  when  I  saw  my  body  thus  lifted  up  from  the  earth, 
ho  v  could  I  help  it  ?  Though  the  spirit  draws  it  upwards  after 
itself,  and  that  with  great  sweetness  if  unresisted,  the  senses  are 
not  lost ;  at  least  I  was  so  much  myself  as  to  be  able  to  see  that 
I  was  being  lifted  up"  x 

So  Rulman  Merswin  in  the  rapture  which  accompanied  his 
conversion,  was  carried  round  the  garden  with  his  feet  off  the 
ground : 2  and  St.  Catherine  of  Siena,  in  a  passage  which  I  have 
already  quoted,  speaks  of  the  strength  of  the  spirit,  which  raises 
the  body  from  the  earth. 3 

The  subjective  nature  of  this  feeling  of  levitation  is  practi- 
cally acknowledged  by  St.  Teresa  when  she  says,  "  When  the 
rapture  was  over,  my  body  seemed  frequently  to  be  buoyant,  as 
if  all  weight  had  departed  from  it ;  so  much  so,  that  now  and 
then  I  scarcely  knew  that  my  feet  touched  the  ground.  But 
during  the  rapture  the  body  is  very  often  as  it  were  dead, 
perfectly  powerless.  It  continues  in  the  position  it  was  in  when 
the  rapture  came  upon  it — if  sitting,  sitting."  Obviously  here 
the  outward  conditions  of  physical  immobility  coexisted  with 
the  subjective  sensation  of  being  "lifted  up." 4 

The  self's  consciousness  when  in  the  condition  of  rapture 
may  vary  from  the  complete  possession  of  her  faculties  claimed 
by  St.  Teresa  to  a  complete  entrancement.  However  abrupt 
the  on-coming  of  the  transport,  it  does  not  follow  that  the 
mystic  instantly  loses  his  surface-consciousness.  "There  re- 
mains the  power  of  seeing  and  hearing ;  but  it  is  as  if  the 
things  heard  and  seen  were  at  a  great  distance  far  away."  s 
They  have  retreated,  that  is  to  say,  to  the  fringe  of  the 
conscious  field,  but  may  still  remain  just  within  it.  Though 
the  senses  may  not  be  entirely  entranced,  however,  it  seems 
that  the  power  of  movement  is  always  lost.  As  in  ecstasy, 
breathing  and  circulation  are  much  diminished. 

"When  the  Divine  Bridegroom  desires  to  enrapture  the 
soul,  He  orders  all  the  doors  of  its  habitations,  even  those 
of  the  castle  and  its  outworks,  to  be  closed.  In  fact,  hardly 
has  one   entered    the   rapture,  when   one   ceases   to   breathe ; 

1  St.  Teresa,  op.  at.,  loc.  cit.,  §§  7  and  9. 

2  Supra,  p.  224.  3  Dialogo,  cap.  Ixxix. 

•  *  Vida,  cap.  xx.  §  23.  At  the  same  time,  in  the  present  state  of  our  knowledge, 
and  in  view  of  the  numerous  attested  cases,  it  is  impossible  to  dogmatise  on  this 
subject  5  ibid. 


ECSTASY  AND  RAPTURE  451 

and  if  sometimes  one  retains  for  a  few  moments  the  use  of 
one's  other  senses,  one  cannot,  nevertheless,  speak  a  single 
word.  At  other  times,  all  the  senses  are  instantly  suspended  ; 
the  hands  and  the  whole  body  become  so  intensely  cold  that 
the  soul  seems  to  be  separated  therefrom.  Sometimes  it  is 
difficult  to  know  whether  one  still  breathes.  Rapture  lasts 
but  a  short  time,  at  least  at  this  high  degree:  the  extreme 
suspension  is  relaxed,  and  the  body  seems  to  regain  life,  that 
it  may  die  anew  in  the  same  manner,  and  make  the  soul 
more  living  than  before."1 

This  spiritual  storm,  then,  in  St.  Teresa's  opinion,  enhances 
the  vitality  of  those  who  experience  it :  makes  them  "  more 
living  than  before."  It  initiates  them  into  "  heavenly  secrets," 
and  if  it  does  not  do  this  it  is  no  "true  rapture,"  but  a 
"physical  weakness  such  as  women  are  prone  to  owing  to 
their  delicacy  of  constitution."  Its  sharpness  and  violence, 
however,  leaves  considerable  mental  disorder  behind  it :  "  for 
the  rest  of  the  day,  and  sometimes  for  several  days,  the 
will  seems  overcome,  the  understanding  is  beside  itself:  the 
soul  seems  incapable  of  applying  itself  to  anything  else  but 
the  Love  of  God  ;  and  she  applies  herself  to  this  with  the 
more  ardour  that  she  feels  nothing  but  disgust  for  created 
things."  2 

But  when  equilibrium  is  re-established,  the  true  effects  of 
this  violent  and  beatific  intuition  of  the  Absolute  begin  to 
invade  the  normal  life.  The  self  which  has  thus  been  caught 
up  to  the  highest  levels  of  Reality,  is  stung  to  new  activity  by 
the  strength  of  its  impressions.  It  now  desires  an  eternal 
union  with  that  which  it  has  beheld ;  with  which  for  a  brief 
moment  it  has  been  merged.  The  peculiar  talent  of  the  mystic ; 
that  wild  genius,  that  deep-seated  power  of  perceiving  Reality 
which  his  contemplations  have  ordered  and  developed,  and  his 
ecstasies  express,  here  reacts  upon  his  life-process,  his  slow 
journey  from  the  Many  to  the  One.  His  nostalgia  has  been 
increased  by  a  glimpse  of  the  homeland.  His  intuitive  appre- 
hension of  the  Absolute,  which  assumes  in  ecstasy  its  most 
positive  form,  spurs  him  on  towards  that  total  and  permanent 
union  with  the  Divine  which  is  his  goal.     "  Such  great  graces," 

1  St.  Teresa,  "  El  Castillo  Interior,"  Moradas  Sextas,  cap.  iv. 
9  Op,  tit.,  loc.  cit. 


452  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

says  St.  Teresa,  "  leave  the  soul  avid  of  total  possession  of  that 
Divine  Bridegroom  who  has  conferred  them."  x 

Hence  the  ecstatic  states  do  not  merely  lift  the  self  to  an 
abnormal  degree  of  knowledge  :  they  enrich  her  life,  contribute 
to  the  remaking  of  her  consciousness,  develop  and  uphold  the 
"  strong  and  stormy  love  which  drives  her  home."  They  give 
her  the  clearest  vision  she  can  have  of  that  transcendent 
standard  to  which  she  must  conform :  entail  her  sharpest 
consciousness  of  the  inflow  of  that  Life  on  which  her  little 
striving  life  depends.  Little  wonder,  then,  that — though  the 
violence  of  their  onset  may  often  try  his  body  to  the  full — the 
mystic  comes  forth  from  a  "  good  ecstasy  "  as  Pascal  from  the 
experience  of  the  Fire,  humbled  yet  exultant,  marvellously 
strengthened  ;  and  ready,  not  for  any  passive  enjoyments,  but 
rather  for  the  struggles  and  hardships  of  the  Way,  the 
deliberate  pain  and  sacrifice  of  love. 

In  the  third  Degree  of  Ardent  Love,  says  Richard  of  St. 
Victor,  love  paralyses  action.  Union  {copula)  is  the  symbol  of 
this  state  :  ecstasy  is  its  expression.  The  desirous  soul,  he 
says  finely,  no  longer  thirsts  for  God  but  into  God.  The  pull 
of  its  desire  draws  it  into  the  Infinite  Sea.  The  mind  is  borne 
away  into  the  abyss  of  Divine  Light,  and,  wholly  forgetful  of 
exterior  things,  knows  not  even  itself,  but  passes  utterly  into 
its  God.  In  this  state,  all  earthly  desire  is  absorbed  in  the 
heavenly  glory.  "  Whilst  the  mind  is  separated  from  itself,  and 
whilst  it  is  borne  away  into  the  secret  place  of  the  divine 
mystery  and  is  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  the  fire  of  divine 
love,  it  is  inwardly  penetrated  and  inflamed  by  this  fire,  and 
utterly  puts  off  itself  and  puts  on  a  divine  love  :  and  being 
conformed  to  that  Beauty  which  it  has  beheld,  it  passes  utterly 
into  that  other  glory."  2 

Thus  does  the  state  of  ecstasy  contribute  to  the  business  of 
deification  ;  of  the  remaking  of  the  soul's  substance  in  con- 
formity with  the  Goodness,  Truth,  and  Beauty  which  is  God. 
"  Being  conformed  to  that  beauty  which  it  has  beheld,  it  passes 
utterly  into  that  other  glory  " ;  into  the  flaming  heart  of  Reality, 
the  deep  but  dazzling  darkness  of  its  home. 

1  St.  Teresa,  op.  cit.y  cap.  vi. 

2  "  De  Quatuor  Gradibus  Violentae  Charitatis"  (paraphrase). 


CHAPTER   IX 
THE   DARK   NIGHT   OF  THE   SOUL 

We  return  to  a  study  of  the  mystical  life-process — The  swing-back  from  illumina- 
tion— The  Dark  Night — (i)  Its  psychological  character — A  period  of  psychic  fatigue — 
Reaction  from  the  strain  of  mystical  lucidity — The  sorting-house  of  the  spiritual  life — 
Its  on-set  is  gradual — Madame  Guyon — A  state  of  mental  chaos — The  transition  to 
new  levels  of  consciousness — Mystical  adolescence — Psycho-spiritual  parallelism — 
Augustine  Baker — (2)  Its  mystical  character — Takes  many  forms — Emotional, 
Intellectual,  Volitional — A  completion  of  Purgation — The  final  purification  of  self- 
hood— The  passage  from  Luna  to  Sol — Always  painful — Its  principal  forms — (a)  The 
loss  of  the  presence  of  God — St.  John  of  the  Cross — Madame  Guyon — Extinction  of 
the  transcendental  consciousness — (6)  The  acute  sense  of  imperfection — St.  John  of 
the  Cross — {c)  Loss  of  mystic  feeling — Spiritual  ennui — Ruysbroeck — {d)  Intellec- 
tual impotence — Loss  of  will-power — St.  Teresa — (e)  The  pain  of  God,  or  dark 
ecstasy — St.  Teresa — All  these  are  aspects  of  one  state — The  purification  of  the 
whole  Personality — An  episode  in  character  building— Essential  to  the  attain- 
ment of  Reality — William  Law — Surrender — St.  Catherine  of  Siena — Adaptation  to 
environment — St.  John  of  the  Cross — A  process  beyond  the  self  s  control — Self- 
naughting — Spiritual  Poverty — Tauler — The  Dark  an  incident  of  the  movement  to 
union — Its  gradual  disappearance — Madame  Guyon — An  "example  from  life" — 
Suso — Reasons  for  this  choice — His  entrance  on  the  night — The  Vision  of  the  Upper 
School— The  Vision  of  Knighthood — His  education  in  manliness — The  ideal  o. 
spiritual  chivalry — The  final  trial — Its  human  characteristics— Suso  and  the  Baby— 
The  last  crisis — The  act  of  surrender — The  passing  of  the  Dark  Night 

WE  have  wandered  during  the  last  few  chapters  from 
our  study  of  the  mystical  life-process  in  man,  the 
organic  growth  of  his  transcendental  consciousness, 
in  order  to  examine  the  by-products  of  that  process,  its  cha- 
racteristic forms  of  self-expression  :  the  development  of  its 
normal  art  of  contemplation  or  introversion,  and  the  visions  and 
voices,  ecstasies  and  raptures  which  are  frequent — though  not 
essential — accompaniments  of  its  activity,  of  the  ever-increasing 
predominance  of  its  genius  for  the  Real. 

But  the  mystic,  like  other  persons  of  genius,  is  man  first  and 
artist   afterwards.     We   shall    make  a  grave   though   common 

453 


454  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

mistake  if  we  forget  this  and  allow  ourselves  to  be  deflected, 
from  our  study  of  his  growth  in  personality  by  the  wonder  and 
interest  of  his  art.  Being,  not  Doing,  is  the  first  aim  of  the 
mystic  ;  and  hence  should  be  the  first  interest  of  the  student  of 
mysticism.  We  have  considered  for  convenience'  sake  all  the 
chief  forms  of  mystical  activity  at  the  half-way  house  of  the 
transcendental  life  :  but  these  activities  are  not,  of  course, 
peculiar  to  any  one  stage  of  that  life.  Ecstasy,  for  instance, 
is  as  common  a  feature  of  mystical  conversion  as  of  the  last 
crisis,  or  "  mystic  marriage  "  of  the  soul  :  «  whilst  visions  and 
voices — in  selves  of  a  visionary  or  auditory  type — accompany 
and  illustrate  every  phase  of  the  inward  development.  They 
lighten  and  explain  the  trials  of  Purgation  as  often  as  they 
express  the  joys  of  Illumination,  and  frequently  mark  the  crisis 
of  transition  from  one  mystic  state  to  the  next. 

One  exception,  however,  must  be  made  to  this  rule.  The 
most  intense  period  of  that  great  swing-back  into  darkness 
which  usually  divides  the  "first  mystic  life,"  or  Illuminative 
Way,  from  the  "  second  mystic  life,"  or  Unitive  Way,  is 
generally  a  period  of  utter  blankness  and  stagnation,  so  far 
as  mystical  activity  is  concerned.  The  "  Dark  Night  of  the 
Soul,"  once  fully  established,  is  seldom  lit  by  visions  or  made 
homely  by  voices.  It  is  of  the  essence  of  its  miseries  that  the 
once-possessed  power  of  orison  or  contemplation  is  now  wholly 
lost.  The  self  is  tossed  back  from  its  hard  won  point  of 
vantage.  Impotence,  blankness,  solitude,  are  the  epithets  by 
which  those  immersed  in  this  dark  fire  of  purification  describe 
their  pains.  It  is  this  extraordinary  episode  in  the  life-history 
of  the  mystic  type  to  which  we  have  now  come. 

We  have  already  noticed 2  the  chief  psychological  cha- 
racteristics of  all  normal  mystical  development.  We  have  seen 
that  the  essence  of  this  development  consists  in  the  effort  to 
establish  a  new  equilibrium,  to  get,  as  it  were,  a  firm  foothold 
upon  transcendent  levels  of  reality ;  and  that  in  its  path 
towards  this  consummation  the  self  experiences  a  series  of 
oscillations  between  "  states  of  pleasure  "  and  "  states  of  pain." 
Put  in  another  way  it  is  an  orderly  movement  of  the  whole 
consciousness  towards  higher  centres,  in  which  each  intense  and 

1  Vide  sttpra,  pp.  225-229,  the  cases  of  Suso  and  Pascal. 
»  Pt.  II.  Cap.  I. 


THE  DARK  NIGHT  OF  THE  SOUL  455 

progressive  affirmation  fatigues  the  immature  transcendental 
powers,  and  is  paid  for  by  a  negation  ;  either  a  swing-back 
of  the  whole  consciousness,  a  stagnation  of  intellect,  a  reaction 
of  the  emotions,  or  an  inhibition  of  the  will. 

Thus  the  exalted  consciousness  of  Divine  Perfection  which 
the  self  acquired  in  its  "  mystical  awakening  "  was  balanced  by 
a  depressed  and  bitter  consciousness  of  its  own  inherent  imper- 
fection, and  the  clash  of  these  two  perceptions  spurred  it  to  that 
laborious  effort  of  accommodation  which  constitutes  the  "  Purga- 
tive Way."  The  renewed  and  ecstatic  awareness  of  the 
Absolute  which  resulted,  and  which  was  the  governing  cha- 
racteristic of  Illumination,  brings  with  it  of  necessity  its  own 
proper  negation  :  the  awareness,  that  is  to  say,  of  the  selfs 
continued  separation  from  and  incompatibility  with  that 
Absolute  which  it  has  perceived.  During  the  time  in  which  the 
illuminated  consciousness  is  fully  established,  the  self,  as  a  rule, 
is  perfectly  content  :  believing  that  in  this  sublime  vision  of 
Eternity,  this  intense  and  loving  consciousness  of  God,  it  has 
reached  the  goal  of  its  quest.  Sooner  or  later,  however,  psychic 
fatigue  sets  in  ;  the  state  of  illumination  begins  to  break  up, 
the  complementary  negative  consciousness  appears,  and  shows 
itself  as  an  overwhelming  sense  of  darkness  and  deprivation. 
This  sense  is  so  deep  and  strong  that  it  breaks  all  communica- 
tion set  up  between  the  self  and  the  Transcendent  ;  swamps  its 
intuitions  of  Reality  ;  and  plunges  that  self  into  the  state  of 
negation  and  unutterable  misery  which  is  called  the  Dark 
Night. 

Now  we  may  look  at  the  Dark  Night,  as  at  most  other 
incidents  of  the  Mystic  Way,  from  two  points  of  view:  (i)  We 
may  see  it,  with  the  psychologist,  as  a  moment  in  the  history  of 
mental  development,  governed  by  the  more  or  less  mechanical 
laws  which  so  conveniently  explain  to  him  the  psychic  life 
of  man  :  or  (2)  with  the  mystic  himself,  we  may  see  it  in  its 
spiritual  aspect  as  contributing  to  the  remaking  of  character, 
the  growth  of  the  "  New  Man"  ;  his  "transmutation  in  God." 

(1)  Psychologically  considered,  the  Dark  Night  'is  an  ex- 
ample of  the  operation  of  the  law  of  reaction  from  stress. 
It  is  a  period  of  fatigue  and  lassitude  following  a  period  of 
sustained  mystical  activity.  "  It  is  one  of  the  best  established 
laws    of  the    nervous    system,"    says    Starbuck,  "that    it   has 


456  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

periods  of  exhaustion  if  exercised  continuously  in  one  direc- 
tion, and  can  only  recuperate  by  having  a  period  of  rest."  x 
However  spiritual  he  may  be,  the  mystic — so  long  as  he  is 
in  the  body — cannot  help  using  the  machinery  of  his  nervous 
and  cerebral  system  in  the  course  of  his  adventures.  His 
development,  on  its  psychic  side,  consists  in  the  taking  over  of 
this  nervous  machinery,  the  capture  of  its  centres  of  conscious- 
ness, in  the  interests  of  his  growing  transcendental  life.  In  so 
far,  then,  as  this  is  so,  that  transcendental  life  will  be  partly 
conditioned  by  psychic  necessities,  will  be  amenable  to  the 
laws  of  reaction  and  of  fatigue.  Each  great  step  forward 
will  entail  a  period  of  lassitude  and  exhaustion  in  that  men- 
tal machinery  which  he  has  pressed  into  service  and  probably 
overworked.  When  the  higher  centres  have  become  exhausted 
under  the  great  strain  of  a  developed  illuminated  life,  with 
its  accompanying  periods  of  intense  lucidity,  of  deep  con- 
templation, perhaps  of  visionary  and  auditory  phenomena,  the 
swing-back  into  the  negative  state  occurs  almost  of  necessity. 
This  is  the  psychological  explanation  of  those  strange 
and  painful  episodes  in  the  lives  of  great  saints,  and  also  of 
lesser  initiates  of  the  spiritual  sphere:  when,  perhaps  after  a 
long  life  passed  in  close  contact  with  the  transcendental 
order,  of  full  and  growing  consciousness  of  the  "  presence  of 
God,"  the  whole  inner  experience  is  suddenly  swept  away, 
and  only  a  blind  reliance  on  past  convictions  saves  them 
from  unbelief.2  The  great  contemplatives,  those  destined  to 
attain  the  full  stature  of  the  mystic,  emerge  from  this  period 
of  destitution,  however  long  and  drastic  it  may  be,  as  from  a 
new  purification.  It  is  for  them  the  gateway  to  a  higher 
state.  But  persons  of  lesser  genius  cannot  pass  this  way.  If 
they  enter  the  Night  at  all,  it  is  to  succumb  to  its  dangers 
and  pains.  This  "  great  negation "  is  the  sorting-house  of 
the  spiritual  life.  Here  we  part  from  the  "  nature  mystics," 
the  mystic  poets,  and  all  who  shared  in  and  were  contented 
.with  the  illuminated  vision  of  reality.  Those  who  go  on  are 
the  great  and  strong  spirits,  who  do  not  seek  to  know,  but 
are  driven  to  be. 

1  "  Psychology  of  Religion,"  p.  24. 

2  An  example  of  this  occurred  in  the  later  life  of  Ste.  Jeanne  Francoise  de  Chantal. 
See  "  The  Nuns  of  Port  Royal,"  by  M.  E.  Lowndes  (1909),  p.  284, 


THE  DARK  NIGHT  OF  THE  SOUL  457 

We  are  to  expect,  then,  as  a  part  of  the  conditions  under 
which  human  consciousness  appears  to  work,  that  for  every 
affirmation  of  the  mystic  life  there  will  be  a  negation  waiting 
for  the  unstable  self.  This  rule  is  of  universal  application. 
The  mystic's  progress  in  orison,  for  instance,  is  marked  by 
just  such  an  alternation  of  light  and  shade :  of  "  dark  con- 
templation "  and  sharp  intuitions  of  Reality.  So  too  in  selves 
of  extreme  nervous  instability,  each  separate  joyous  ecstasy 
entails  a  painful  or  negative  ecstasy.  The  states  of  darkness 
and  illumination  coexist  over  a  long  period,  alternating 
sharply  and  rapidly.  Many  seers  and  artists  pay  in  this 
way,  by  agonizing  periods  of  impotence  and  depression,  for 
each  violent  outburst  of  creative  energy. 

The  periods  of  rapid  oscillation  between  a  joyous  and  a 
painful  consciousness  occur  most  often  at  the  beginning  of  a 
new  period  of  the  mystic  way :  between  Purgation  and  Illu- 
mination, and  again  between  Illumination  and  the  Dark  Night : 
for  these  mental  states  are,  as  a  rule,  gradually  not  abruptly 
established.  Mystics  call  such  oscillations  the  "  Game  of  Love" 
in  which  God  plays,  as  it  were,  "hide  and  seek"  with  the 
questing  soul.  I  have  already  quoted  a  characteristic  instance 
from  the  life  of  Rulman  Merswin,1  who  passed  the  whole 
intervening  period  between  his  conversion  and  entrance  on 
the  Dark  Night  or  "school  of  suffering  love"  in  such  a 
state  of  disequilibrium.  Thus  too  Madame  Guyon,  who  has 
described  at  great  length  and  with  much  elaboration  of  detail  all 
her  symptoms  and  sufferings  during  the  oncoming  and  duration 
of  the  Night — or,  as  she  calls  its  intensest  period,  the  Mystic 
Death — traces  its  ..beginning  in  short  recurrent  states  of  pri- 
vation, or  dullness  of  feeling,  such  as  ascetic  writers  call 
"aridity":  in  which  the  self  loses  all  interest  in  and  affec- 
tion for  those  divine  realities  which  had  previously  rilled  its 
life.  This  privation  followed  upon,  or  was  the  reaction  from, 
an  "  illuminated "  period  of  extreme  joy  and  security,  in 
which,  as  she  says,  "  the  presence  of  God  never  left  her  for  an 
instant "  ;  so  that  it  seemed  to  her  that  she  already  enjoyed  the 
Beatific  Vision.  "  But  how  dear  I  paid  for  this  time  of  happiness  ! 
For  this  possession,  which  seemed  to  me  entire  and  perfect;  and 
the  more  perfect   the  more   it  was  secret,  and  foreign  to  the 

*   Vide  supra,  p.  274. 


458  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

senses,  steadfast  and  exempt  from  change;  was  but  the  pre- 
paration for  a  total  deprivation,  lasting  many  years,  without 
any  support  or  hope  of  its  return."  l  Between  this  state  of 
happiness  and  the  "  total  deprivation "  or  true  "  dark  night " 
comes  the  intermediate  condition  of  alternating  light  and 
darkness.  As  Madame  Guyon  never  attempted  to  control 
any  of  her  states,  but  made  a  point  of  conforming  to  her 
own  description  of  the  "  resigned  soul "  as  "  God's  weather- 
cock," we  have  in  her  an  unequalled  opportunity  of  studying 
the  natural  sequence  of  development. 

"  I  endured,"  she  says,  "  long  periods  of  privation, 
towards  the  end  almost  continual :  but  still  I  had  from  time 
to  time  inflowings  of  Thy  Divinity  so  deep  and  intimate, 
so  vivid  and  so  penetrating,  that  it  was  easy  for  me  to 
judge  that  Thou  wast  but  hidden  from  me  and  not  lost. 
For  although  during  the  times  of  privation  it  seemed  to  me 
that  I  had  utterly  lost  Thee,  a  certain  deep  support  remained, 
though  the  soul  knew  it  not :  and  she  only  became  aware 
of  that  support  by  her  subsequent  total  deprivation  thereof. 
Every  time  that  Thou  didst  return  with  more  goodness  and 
strength,  Thou  didst  return  also  with  greater  splendour ;  so 
that  in  a  few  hours  Thou  didst  rebuild  all  the  ruins  cf 
my  unfaithfulness  and  didst  make  good  to  me  with  profusion 
all  my  loss.  But  it  was  not  thus  in  those  times  of  which 
I  am  going  to  speak."2 

Here  we  have,  from  the  psychological  point  of  view,  a 
singularly  perfect  example  of  the  violent  oscillations  of  con- 
sciousness on  the  threshold  of  a  new  state.  The  old  equilibrium, 
the  old  grouping  round  a  centre  characterized  by  pleasure- 
affirmation  has  been  lost ;  the  new  grouping  round  a  centre 
characterized  by  pain-negation  is  not  yet  established.  Madame 
Guyon  is  standing,  or  rather  swinging,  between  two  worlds,  the 
helpless  prey  of  her  own  shifting  and  uncontrollable  psychic 
and  spiritual  states.  But  slowly  the  pendulum  approaches  its 
limit :  the  states  of  privation,  as  she  says,  "  become  almost 
continual,"  the  reactions  to  illumination  become  less  and  less. 
At  last  they  cease  entirely,  the  new  state  is  established,  and  the 
Dark  Night  has  really  set  in. 

The  theory  here  advanced  that  the  "  Dark  Night "  is,  on  its 

1  Vie,  pt.  i.  cap.  xx.  2  Op.  cit.,  cap.  xxi. 


THE  DARK  NIGHT  OF  THE  SOUL  459 

psychic  side,  partly  a  condition  of  fatigue,  partly  a  state  of 
transition,  is  borne  out  by  the  mental  and  moral  disorder  which 
seems,  in  many  subjects,  to  be  its  dominant  character.  When 
they  are  in  it  everything  seems  to  "  go  wrong "  with  them. 
They  are  tormented  by  evil  thoughts  and  abrupt  temptations, 
lose  grasp  not  only  of  their  spiritual  but  also  of  their  worldly 
affairs.  Their  health  often  suffers,  they  become  "odd"  and 
their  friends  forsake  them  ;  their  intellectual  life  is  at  a  low  ebb. 
In  their  own  words  "trials  of  every  kind,"  "exterior  and  interior 
crosses,"  abound. 

Now  "  trials,"  taken  en  bloc,  mean  a  disharmony  between  the 
self  and  the  world  with  which  it  has  to  deal.  Nothing  is  a  trial 
when  we  are  able  to  cope  with  it  efficiently.  Things  try  us 
when  we  are  not  adequate  to  them  :  when  they  are  abnormally 
hard  or  we  abnormally  weak.  This  aspect  of  the  matter 
becomes  prominent  when  we  look  further  into  the  history  of 
Madame  Guyon's  experiences.  Thanks  to  the  unctuous  and 
detailed  manner  in  which  she  has  analyzed  her  spiritual  griefs, 
this  part  of  her  autobiography  is  a  psychological  document  of 
unique  importance  for  the  study  of  the  "  Dark  Night." 

As  her  consciousness  of  God  was  gradually  extinguished,  a 
sort  of  mental  and  moral  chaos  seems  to  have  invaded  Madame 
Guyon,  and  to  have  accompanied  the  more  spiritual  destitution 
and  miseries  of  her  state.  "So  soon  as  I  perceived  the 
happiness  of  any  state,  or  its  beauty,  or  the  necessity  of  a 
virtue,  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  fell  incessantly  into  the  contrary 
vice :  as  if  this  perception,  which  though  very  rapid  was  always 
accompanied  by  love,  were  only  given  to  me  that  I  might 
experience  its  opposite,  in  a  manner  which  was  all  the  more 
terrible  because  of  the  horror  which  I  still  felt  for  it.  It  was 
then,  O  my  God,  that  the  evil  which  I  hated,  that  I  did  :  and 
the  good  which  I  loved,  that  I  did  not.1  I  was  given  an  intense 
perception  of  the  purity  of  God ;  and  so  far  as  my  feelings  went, 
I  became  more  and  more  impure  :  for  in  reality  this  state  is 
very  purifying,  but  I  was  then  very  far  from  understanding 
this.  .  .  .  My  imagination  was  in  a  state  of  appalling  confusion, 
and  gave  me  no  rest.  I  could  not  speak  of  Thee,  oh  my  God, 
for  I  became  utterly  stupid ;  nor  could  I  even  grasp  what  was 

1  Apparently  Romans  vii.  15,  paraphrase ;  Madame  Guyon's  quotations  of 
Scripture  seldom  agree  with  the  Vulgate. 


460  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

said  when  I  heard  Thee  spoken  of.  Instead  of  that  heavenly 
peace  in  which  my  soul  had  been  as  it  were  confirmed  and 
established,  there  was  nothing  but  the  sorrow  of  hell.  ...  I 
found  myself  hard  towards  God,  insensible  to  His  mercies  ;  I 
could  not  perceive  any  good  thing  that  I  had  done  in  my  whole 
life.  The  good  appeared  to  me  evil ;  and — that  which  is 
terrible — it  seemed  to  me  that  this  state  must  last  for  ever. 
For  I  did  not  believe  it  to  be  a  state,  but  a  true  falling  away. 
For  if  I  had  been  able  to  believe  that  it  was  a  state,  or  that  it 
was  necessary  or  agreeable  to  God,  I  should  not  have  suffered 
from  it  at  ail** 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  wretchedness  she  felt,  she  says, 
that  this  world  as  well  as  the  next  was  now  leagued 
against  her.  "  External  crosses  *  of  every  kind,  loss  of  health 
and  friendship,  domestic  vexations,  increased  and  kept  pace 
with  her  interior  griefs.  Self-control  and  power  of  attention 
were  diminished.  She  seemed  stupefied  and  impotent,  unable 
to  follow  or  understand  even  the  services  of  the  Church,  in- 
capable of  all  orison  and  all  good  works  ;  perpetually  attracted 
by  those  worldly  things  which  she  had  renounced,  yet  quickly 
wearied  by  them.  The  neat  edifice  of  her  first  mystic  life  was 
in  ruins,  the  state  of  consciousness  which  accompanied  it  was 
disintegrated,  but  nothing  arose  to  take  its  place. 

"  It  is  an  amazing  thing,"  says  Madame  Guyon  naively,  "  for 
a  soul  that  believed  herself  to  be  advanced  in  the  way  of 
perfection,  when  she  sees  herself  thus  go  to  pieces  all  at  once."  2 

So,  too,  Suso,  when  he  had  entered  the  "  upper  school  "  of  the 
spiritual  life,  was  tormented  not  only  by  temptations  and 
desolations,  but  by  outward  trials  and  disabilities  of  every  kind  : 
calumnies,  misunderstanding,  difficulties,  pains.  "  It  seemed  at 
this  time  as  if  God  had  given  permission  both  to  men  and 
demons  to  torment  the  Servitor,"  he  says.3  This  sense  of  a 
generally  inimical  atmosphere,  and  of  the  dimness  and  helpless- 
ness of  the  Ego  oppressed  by  circumstance,  is  like  the  vague 
distress  and  nervous  sensibility  of  adolescence,  and  comes  in 
part  from  the  same  cause :  the  intervening  period  of  chaos 
between  the  break-up  of  an  old  state  of  equilibrium  and  the 
establishment  of  the  new.     The  self  in  its  necessary  movement 

1  Op.  cit.,  cap.  xxiii.  *  M  Les  Torrents,"  pt.  i.  cap.  vii.  §  2. 

s  Leben,  cap.  xsii. 


THE  DARK  NIGHT  OF  THE  SOUL  461 

towards  higher  levels  of  reality,  loses  and  leaves  behind  certain 
elements  of  its  world,  long  loved  but  now  outgrown :  as  children 
must  make  the  hard  transition  from  nursery  to  school.  Destruc- 
tion and  construction  here  go  together  :  the  exhaustion  and 
ruin  of  the  illuminated  consciousness  is  the  signal  for  the 
onward  movement  of  the  self  towards  other  centres  :  the  feeling 
of  deprivation  and  inadequacy  which  comes  from  the  loss  of 
that  consciousness,  is  an  indirect  stimulus  to  new  growth.  The 
self  is  being  pushed  into  a  new  world  where  it  does  not  feel 
at  home ;  has  not  yet  reached  the  point  at  which  it  enters 
into  conscious  possession  of  its  second,  or  adult  life. 

"  Thou  hast  been  a  child  at  the  breast,  a  spoiled  child,"  said 
the  Eternal  Wisdom  to  Suso.  "  Now  I  will  withdraw  all  this." 
In  the  resulting  darkness  and  confusion,  when  the  old  and 
known  supports  are  thus  withdrawn,  the  self  can  do  little  but 
surrender  itself  to  the  inevitable  process  of  things  :  to  the  opera- 
tion of  that  unresting  Spirit  of  Life  which  is  pressing  it  on 
towards  a  new  and  higher  state,  in  which  it  shall  not  only  see 
Reality  but  be  real. 

Psychologically,  then,  the  "  Dark  Night  of  the  Soul  "  is  due 
to  the  double  fact  of  the  exhaustion  of  an  old  state,  and  the 
growth  towards  a  new  state  of  consciousness.  It  is  a  "  growing- 
pain  "  in  the  great  organic  process  of  the  self  s  attainment  of  the 
Absolute.  The  great  mystics,  creative  geniuses  in  the  realm  of 
character,  have  known  instinctively  how  to  turn  these  psychic 
disturbances  to  spiritual  profit.  Parallel  with  the  mental 
oscillations,  upheavals  and  readjustments,  through  which  an 
unstable  psycho-physical  type  moves  to  new  centres  of  con- 
sciousness, run  the  spiritual  oscillations  of  a  striving  and  ascend- 
ing spiritual  type.  Gyrans  gyrando  vadit  spiriius.  The 
machinery  of  consciousness,  over-stretched,  breaks  up,  and 
seems  to  toss  the  self  back  to  an  old  and  lower  level,  where  it 
loses  its  apprehensions  of  the  transcendental  world ;  as  the 
child,  when  first  it  is  forced  to  stand  alone,  feels  weaker  than  it 
did  in  its  mother's  arms. 

"  For  first  He  not  only  withdraws  all  comfortable  observable 
infusions  of  light  and  grace,  but  also  deprives  her  of  a  power  to 
exercise  any  perceptible  operations  of  her  superior  spirit  and  of 
all  comfortable  reflections  upon  His  love,  plunging  her  into  the 
depth  of  her  inferior  powers,"  says  Augustine  Baker,  the  skilled 


462  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

director  of  souls,  here  anticipating  the  modern  psychologist. 
"  Here  consequently,"  he  continues,  "  her  former  calmness  of 
passions  is  quite  lost,  neither  can  she  introvert  herself;  sinful 
motions  and  suggestions  do  violently  assault  her,  and  she  finds 
as  great  difficulty  (if  not  greater)  to  surmount  them  as  at  the 
beginning  of  a  spiritual  course.  ...  If  she  would  elevate  her 
spirit,  she  sees  nothing  but  clouds  and  darkness.  She  seeks 
God,  and  cannot  find  the  least  marks  or  footsteps  of  His 
Presence  ;  something  there  is  that  hinders  her  from  executing 
the  sinful  suggestions  within  her,  but  what  that  is  she  knows 
not,  for  to  her  thinking  she  has  no  spirit  at  all,  and,  indeed,  she 
is  now  in  a  region  of  all  other  most  distant  from  spirit  and 
spiritual  operations — I  mean,  such  as  are  perceptible." x 

Such  an  interval  of  chaos  and  misery  may  last  for  months, 
or  even  for  years,  before  the  consciousness  again  unifies  itself 
and  a  new  centre  is  formed.  Moreover,  the  negative  side  of 
this  new  centre,  this  new  consciousness  of  the  Absolute,  often 
discloses  itself  first.  The  self  realizes,  that  is  to  say,  the 
inadequacy  of  its  old  state,  long  before  it  grasps  the  possibility 
of  a  new  and  higher  state.  This  realization  will  take  two  forms : 
(a)  Objective :  the  distance  or  absence  of  the  Absolute  which 
the  self  seeks ;  (b)  Subjective :  the  self's  weakness  and  imper- 
fection. Both  apprehensions  constitute  a  direct  incentive  to 
action.  They  present,  as  it  were,  a  Divine  Negation  which  the 
self  must  probe,  combat,  resolve. 

The  Dark  Night,  therefore,  largely  the  product  of  natural 
causes,  is  the  producer  in  its  turn  of  mystical  energy ;  and 
hence  of  supernatural  effects. 

(2)  So  much  for  psychology.  We  now  turn  from  a  con- 
sideration of  purely  psychic  processes  to  study  the  mystical  or 
transcendental  aspects  of  the  Dark  Night :  to  see  what  it  has 
meant  for  those  mystics  who  have  endured  it,  and  for  those 
spiritual  specialists  who  have  studied  it  in  the  interests  of 
other  men. 

As  in  other  departments  of  mystical  activity,  so  here,  we 
must  beware  of  any  generalization  which  tempts  us  to  look  upon 
the  "Dark  Night"  as  a  uniform  experience,  a  neatly-defined 
state  which  appears  under  the  same  conditions,  and  attended 
by  the  same   symptoms,  in   all   the   selves  who   have   passed 

1  "  Holy  Wisdom,"  Treatise  iii.  §  iv.  cap.  v. 


THE  DARK  NIGHT  OF  THE  SOUL  463 

through  its  pains.  It  is  a  name  for  the  painful  and  negative 
state  which  normally  intervenes  between  the  Illuminative  and 
the  Unitive  Life — no  more.  Different  types  of  contemplatives 
have  interpreted  it  to  themselves  and  to  us  in  very  different 
ways ;  each  type  of  illumination  being  in  fact  balanced  by  its 
own  appropriate  type  of  "  dark." 

In  some  temperaments  it  is  the  emotional  aspect — the 
anguish  of  the  lover  who  has  suddenly  lost  the  Beloved — which 
predominates :  in  others,  the  intellectual  darkness  and  confusion 
overwhelms  everything  else.  Some  have  felt  it,  with  Madame 
Guyon  and  St.  John  of  the  Cross,  as  a  "  passive  purification,"  a 
state  of  limp  misery,  in  which  the  self  does  nothing,  but  lets 
Life  have  its  way  with  her.  Others,  with  Suso  and  the  virile 
mysticism  of  the  German  school,  have  put  a  more  manly  inter- 
pretation on  its  pains ;  finding  in  it  a  period  of  strenuous 
activity  running  counter  to  all  the  inclinations  of  the  natural 
man.  Those  elements  of  character  which  were  unaffected  by 
the  first  purification  of  the  self — left  as  it  were  in  a  corner  when 
the  consciousness  moved  to  the  level  of  the  illuminated  life — 
are  here  roused  from  their  sleep,  purged  of  illusion,  and  forced 
to  join  the  growing  stream  ;  the  "torrent"  in  Madame  Guyon's 
imagery,  which  sets  towards  the  Infinite  Sea. 

The  Dark  Night,  then,  is  really  a  deeply  human  process,  in 
which  the  self  which  thought  itself  so  spiritual,  so  firmly  estab- 
lished upon  the  supersensual  plane,  is  forced  to  turn  back,  to 
leave  the  Light,  and  pick  up  those  qualities  which  it  had  left 
behind.  Only  thus,  by  the  transmutation  of  the  whole  many  not 
by  a  careful  and  departmental  cultivation  of  that  which  we  like 
to  call  his  "spiritual"  side,  can  Divine  Humanity  be  formed: 
and  the  formation  of  Divine  Humanity — the  remaking  of  man 
"according  to  the  pattern  showed  him  in  the  mount" — is  the 
mystic's  only  certain  ladder  to  the  Real.  "  My  humanity,"  said 
the  Eternal  Wisdom  to  Suso,  "  is  the  road  which  all  must  tread 
who  would  come  to  that  which  thou  seekest"1  This  "hard 
saying  "  might  almost  be  used  as  a  test  by  which  to  distinguish 
the  true  and  valid  mystical  activity  of  man  from  its  many  and 
specious  imitations.  The  self  in  its  first  purgation  has  cleansed 
the  mirror  of  perception ;  hence,  in  its  illuminated  life,  has  seen 
Reality.     In  so  doing  it  has  transcended  the  normal  perceptive 

*  "Buchlein  von  der  ewigen  Weisheit,"  cap.  ii. 


464  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

powers  of  "  natural "  man,  immersed  in  the  illusions  of  sense. 
Now,  it  has  got  to  be  reality :  a  very  different  thing.  For  this, 
a  new  and  more  drastic  purgation  is  needed — not  of  the  organs 
of  perception,  but  of  the  very  shrine  of  self:  that  "heart"  which 
is  the  seat  of  personality,  the  source  of  its  love  and  will.  In 
the  stress  and  anguish  of  the  Night,  when  it  turns  back  from 
the  vision  of  the  Infinite  to  feel  again  the  limitations  of  the 
finite,  the  self  loses  the  power  to  Do  ;  and  learns  to  surrender 
its  will  to  the  operation  of  a  larger  Life,  that  it  may  Be.  As 
the  alchemist,  when  he  has  found  Luna,  or  Silver,  is  not  con- 
tent, but  tosses  it  back  into  the  crucible  in  order  that  he  may 
complete  the  "  great  work  "  and  transmute  it  into  Philosophic 
Gold :  so  that  Indwelling  Spirit  which  is  the  Artist  of  man's 
destinies,  labouring  at  his  transmutation  from  unreal  to  real, 
tosses  back  the  illuminated  self  into  the  melting-pot  that  it  may 
become  the  raw  material  of  Divine  Humanity,  the  "  noble  stone." 

We  must  remember,  in  the  midst  of  this  cold-blooded 
analysis,  that  the  mystic  life  is  a  life  of  love :  that  the  Object 
of  the  mystic's  final  quest  and  of  his  constant  intuition  is  an 
object  of  wild  adoration  and  supreme  desire.  "With  Thee  a 
prison  would  be  a  rose  garden,  oh  Thou  ravisher  of  hearts : 
with  Thee  Hell  would  be  Paradise,  oh  Thou  cheerer  of  souls," 
said  Jelalu  'd  'Din.1  Hence  for  the  mystic  who  has  once  known 
the  Beatific  Vision,  there  can  be  no  greater  grief  than  the  with- 
drawal of  this  Object  from  his  field  of  consciousness ;  the  loss 
of  this  companionship,  the  extinction  of  this  Light.  Therefore, 
whatever  form  the  "  Dark  Night "  assumes,  it  must  entail  bitter 
suffering :  far  worse  than  that  endured  in  the  Purgative  Way. 
Then  the  self  was  forcibly  detached  from  the  imperfect.  Now 
the  Perfect  is  withdrawn,  leaving  behind  an  overwhelming  yet 
impotent  conviction  of  something  supremely  wrong,  some  final 
Treasure  lost.  We  will  now  look  at  a  few  of  the  characteristic 
forms  under  which  this  conviction  is  translated  to  the  surface- 
consciousness. 

A.  To  those  temperaments  in  which  consciousness  of  the 
Absolute  took  the  form  of  a  sense  of  divine  companionship,  and 
for  whom  the  objective  idea  "  God  "  had  become  the  central  fact 
of  life,  it  seems  as  though  that  God,  having  shown  Himself,  has 

1  From  the  "Mesnevi."     Quoted  in  the  Appendix  to  "The  Flowers  or  Rose 
Garden  of  Sadi." 


THE  DARK  NIGHT  OF  THE  SOUL  465 

now  deliberately  withdrawn  His  Presence,  never  perhaps  to 
manifest  Himself  again.  "  He  acts,"  says  Eckhart,  "  as  if  there 
were  a  wall  erected  between  Him  and  us."1  The  "eye  which 
looked  upon  Eternity  "  has  closed,  the  old  dear  sense  of  intimacy 
and  mutual  love  has  given  place  to  a  terrible  blank. 

"The  greatest  affliction  of  the  sorrowful  soul  in  this  state,"  says 
St.  John  of  the  Cross,  "  is  the  thought  that  God  has  abandoned 
it,  of  which  it  has  no  doubt ;  that  He  has  cast  it  away  into  dark- 
ness as  an  abominable  thing  .  .  .  the  shadow  of  death  and  the 
pains  and  torments  of  hell  are  most  acutely  felt,  that  is,  the 
sense  of  being  without  God,  being  chastised  and  abandoned  in 
His  wrath  and  heavy  displeasure.  All  this  and  even  more  the 
soul  feels  now,  for  a  fearful  apprehension  has  come  upon  it  that 
thus  it  will  be  with  it  for  ever.  It  has  also  the  same  sense  of 
abandonment  with  respect  to  all  creatures  and  that  it  is  an 
object  of  contempt  to  all,  especially  to  its  friends."  2 

So,  too,  Madame  Guyon  felt  this  loss  of  her  intuitive  appre- 
hension of  God  as  one  of  the  most  terrible  characteristics  of  the 
"  night."  "  After  Thou  hadst  wounded  me  so  deeply  as  I  have 
described,  Thou  didst  begin,  oh  my  God,  to  withdraw  Thyself 
from  me :  and  the  pain  of  Thy  absence  was  the  more  bitter  to 
me,  because  Thy  presence  had  been  so  sweet  to  me,  Thy  love 
so  strong  in  me.  .  .  .  That  which  persuaded  me,  oh  my  God, 
that  I  had  lost  Thy  love,  was  that  instead  of  finding  new 
strength  in  that  strong  and  penetrating  love,  I  had  become  more 
feeble  and  more  impotent  ...  for  I  knew  not  then  what  it  is 
to  lose  one's  own  strength  that  we  may  enter  into  the  strength 
of  God.  I  have  only  learned  this  by  a  terrible  and  long  experi- 
ence. .  .  .  Thy  way,  oh  my  God,  before  Thou  didst  make  me 
enter  into  the  state  of  death,  was  the  way  of  the  dying  life : 
sometimes  to  hide  Thyself  and  leave  me  to  myself  in  a  hundred 
weaknesses,  sometimes  to  show  Thyself  with  more  sweetness 
and  love.  The  nearer  the  soul  drew  to  the  state  of  death,  the 
more  her  desolations  were  long  and  weary,  her  weaknesses 
increased,  and  also  her  joys  became  shorter,  but  purer  and  more 
intimate,  until  the  time  in  which  she  fell  into  total  privation."  3 

1  Meister  Eckhart,  pred.  lvii.  So  too  St.  Gertrude  in  one  of  her  symbolic  visions 
saw  a  thick  hedge  erected  between  herself  and  Christ. 

a  "Noche  Escura  del  Alma"  (Lewis's  translation),  1.  ii.  cap.  vi. 
3  Vie,  pt.  i.  cap.  xxiii. 

HH 


466  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

When  this  total  privation,  this  "  mystic  death,"  as  Madame 
Guyon  calls  it — describing  its  episodes  with  much  imagery  of  a 
macabre  and  even  revolting  type — is  fully  established  it  involves 
not  only  the  personal  "Absence  of  God,"  but  the  apparent 
withdrawal  or  loss  of  that  impersonal  support,  that  transcen- 
dent Ground  or  spark  of  the  soul,  on  which  the  self  has  long 
felt  its  whole  real  life  to  be  based.  Hence,  its  last  medium  of 
contact  with  the  spiritual  world  is  broken  ;  and  as  regards  all 
that  matters,  it  does  indeed  seem  to  be  "  dead."  "  That  Some- 
what which  supports  us  in  our  ground  is  that  which  it  costs  us 
most  to  lose,  and  which  the  soul  struggles  with  most  violence  to 
retain :  because,  the  more  delicate  it  is,  the  more  divine  and 
necessary  it  appears.  .  .  .  For  what  else  does  a  soul  desire  in 
her  labours,  but  to  have  this  witness  in  her  ground  that  she  is  a 
child  of  God  ?  And  the  goal  of  all  spirituality  is  this  experience. 
Nevertheless,  she  must  lose  this  with  the  rest  .  .  .  and  this  is 
what  works  the  true  \  death  of  the  soul,'  for  whatever  miseries 
she  might  have,  if  this  Somewhat  in  which  the  soul's  life  consists 
were  not  lost,  she  would  be  able  to  support  herself  and  never 
die.  ...  It  is  then  the  loss  of  this  imperceptible  thing,  and  the 
experience  of  this  destitution,  which  causes  the  '  death.' " * 
Contact,  that  is  to  say,  between  consciousness  and  the  "  spark 
of  the  soul"  is  here  broken  off:  and  the  transcendental  faculties 
retreating  to  their  old  place  "  below  the  threshold,"  are  "  dead  " 
so  far  as  the  surface-mind  is  concerned. 

B.  In  those  selves  for  whom  the  subjective  idea  "Sanctity" 
— the  need  of  conformity  between  the  individual  character  and 
the  Transcendent — has  been  central,  the  pain  of  the  Night  is 
less  a  deprivation  than  a  new  and  dreadful  kind  of  lucidity. 
The  vision  of  the  Good  brings  to  the  self  an  abrupt  sense  of 
her  own  hopeless  and  helpless  imperfection :  a  black  "  convic- 
tion of  sin,"  far  more  bitter  than  that  endured  in  the  Way  of 
Purgation,  which  swamps  everything  else.  "  That  which  makes 
her  pain  so  terrible  is  that  she  is,  as  it  were,  overwhelmed  by 
the  purity  of  God,  and  this  purity  makes  her  see  the  least  atoms 
of  her  imperfections  as  if  they  were  enormous  sins,  because  of 
the  infinite  distance  there  is  between  the  purity  of  God  and  the 
creature."  2 

*  "Les  Torrents,"  pt.  i.  cap.  vii. 

8  Madame  Guyon,  op.  cit.t  pt.  i.  cap.  vii. 


THE  DARK  NIGHT  OF  THE  SOUL  467 

"  This,"  says  St.  John  of  the  Cross  again,  "  is  one  of  the 
chief  sufferings  of  this  purgation.  The  soul  is  conscious  of 
a  profound  emptiness,  and  destitution  of  the  three  kinds  of 
goods,  natural,  temporal,  and  spiritual,  which  are  ordained  for 
its  comfort ;  it  sees  itself  in  the  midst  of  the  opposite  evils, 
miserable  imperfections  and  aridities,  emptiness  of  the  under- 
standing and  abandonment  of  the  spirit  in  darkness."  * 

C.  Often  combined  with  the  sense  of  sin  and  the  "  absence 
of  God  "  is  another  negation,  not  the  least  amazing  and  dis- 
tressing part  of  the  sufferings  of  the  self  suddenly  plunged 
into  the  Night.  This  is  a  complete  emotional  lassitude  :  the 
disappearance  of  all  the  old  ardours,  now  replaced  by  a  callous- 
ness, a  boredom,  which  the  self  detests  but  cannot  overcome. 
It  is  the  dismal  condition  of  spiritual  ennui  which  ascetic 
writers  know  so  well  under  the  name  of  "  aridity,"  and  which 
psychologists  look  upon  as  the  result  of  emotional  fatigue. 
To  a  person  in  this  state,  says  Madame  Guyon,  "everything 
becomes  insipid.  She  finds  no  taste  in  anything.  On  the 
contrary  every  act  disgusts  her."2  It  seems  incredible  that 
the  eager  love  of  a  Divine  Companion,  so  long  the  focus  of  her 
whole  being,  should  have  vanished  :  that  not  only  the  tran- 
scendent vision  should  be  withdrawn,  but  her  very  desire  for 
and  interest  in  that  vision  should  grow  cold.  Yet  the  mystics 
are  unanimous  in  declaring  that  this  is  a  necessary  stage  in  the 
growth  of  the  spiritual  consciousness. 

"When  the  sun  begins  to  decline  in  the  heavens,"  says 
Ruysbroeck,  "  it  enters  the  sign  Virgo ;  which  is  so  called 
because  this  period  of  the  year  is  sterile  as  a  virgin." 
This  is  the  autumn  season  in  the  cycle  of  the  soul,  when 
the  summer  heat  grows  less.  "  It  completes  the  yearly  travail 
of  the  Sun."  "In  the  same  manner,  when  Christ,  that  glorious 
sun,  has  risen  to  His  zenith  in  the  heart  of  man,  as  I  have 
taught  in  the  Third  Mode,  and  afterwards  begins  to  decline, 
to  hide  the  radiance  of  His  divine  sunbeams,  and  to  forsake 
man  ;  then  the  heat  and  impatience  of  love  grow  less.  Now 
that  occultation  of  Christ,  and  the  withdrawal  of  His  light  and 
heat,  are  the  first  work  and  the  new  coming  of  this  Mode. 
Now  Christ  says  inwardly  to  man,  Come  forth  in  the  manner 

1  "  Noche  Escura  del  Alma,"  loc.  cit. 

2  "  Les  Torrents,"  pt.  i.  cap.  vii. 


468  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

which  I  now  show  you  ;  and  man  comes  forth  and  finds 
himself  to  be  poor,  miserable,  and  abandoned.  Here  all  the 
storm,  the  fury,  the  impatience  of  his  love,  grow  cool  :  glowing 
summer  turns  to  autumn,  all  its  riches  are  transformed  into 
a  great  poverty.  And  man  begins  to  complain  because  of  his 
wretchedness :  for  where  now  are  the  ardours  of  love,  the 
intimacy,  the  gratitude,  all  the  pleasures  of  grace,  the  interior 
consolation,  the  secret  joy,  the  sensible  sweetness  ?  How  have 
all  these  things  failed  him  ?  And  the  burning  violence  of  his 
love,  and  all  the  gifts  which  he  received  ?  How  has  all  this 
died  in  him  ?  And  he  like  some  learned  clerk  who  has  lost 
all  his  learning  and  his  works  .  .  and  of  this  misery  there  is 
born  the  fear  of  being  lost,  and  as  it  were  a  sort  of  half-doubt: 
and  this  is  the  lowest  point  to  which  one  can  fall  without 
despair."  x 

D.  This  stagnation  of  the  emotions  has  its  counterpart  in 
the  stagnation  of  the  will  and  intelligence,  which  has  been 
experienced  by  some  contemplatives  as  a  part  of  their  negative 
state.  As  regards  the  will,  there  is  a  sort  of  moral  dereliction : 
the  self  cannot  control  its  inclinations  and  thoughts.  In 
the  general  psychic  turmoil,  all  the  evil  part  of  man's  inheri- 
tance, all  the  lower  impulses  and  unworthy  ideas  which  have 
long  been  imprisoned  below  the  threshold,  force  their  way  into 
the  field  of  consciousness.  "  I  had  thoughts  of  all  the  sins," 
says  Madame  Guyon,  "  though  without  committing  them." 2 
"  Every  vice  was  re-awakened  within  me,"  says  Angela  of 
Foligno,  "  I  would  have  chosen  rather  to  be  roasted  than  to 
endure  such  pains."  3 

Where  visual  and  auditory  automatism  is  established,  these 
irruptions  from  the  subliminal  region  often  take  the  form  of  evil 
visions,  or  of  voices  making  coarse  or  sinful  suggestions  to 
the  self.  Thus  St.  Catherine  of  Siena,  in  the  interval  between 
her  period  of  joyous  illumination  and  her  "spiritual  marriage," 
was  tormented  by  visions  of  fiends,  who  filled  her  cell  and 
"  with  obscene  words  and  gestures  invited  her  to  lust."  She 
fled  from  her  cell  to  the  church  to  escape  them,  but  they 
pursued  her  there :  and  she  obtained  no  relief  from  this 
obsession  until  she  ceased  to  oppose  it.      She  cried,  "  I  have 

x  Ruysbroeck,  "  L'Oraement  des  Noces  Spirituelles,"  1.  ii.  cap.  xxviii. 
9  Vie,  pt.  i.  cap.  xxiii. 

3  B.  Angelse  de  Fulginia,  u  Visionum  et  Instructionum  Liber,"  cap.   xix.   (Eng. 
trans,  p.  15). 


THE  DAKK  NIGHT  OF  THE   SOUL  469 

chosen  suffering  for  my  consolation,  and  will  gladly  bear  these 
and  all  other  torments  in  the  name  of  the  Saviour,  for  as 
long  as  it  shall  please  His  Majesty."  With  this  act  of  sur- 
render, the  evil  vision  fled  :  Catherine  swung  back  to  a  state 
of  affirmation,  and  was  comforted  by  a  vision  of  the  Cross.1 
An  analogous  psychological  state  was  experienced  by  St. 
Teresa ;  though  she  fails  to  recognize  it  as  an  episode  in 
her  normal  development,  and  attributes  it,  with  other  spiritual 
adventures  for  which  she  can  find  no  other  explanation,  to 
the  action  of  the  Devil.  "  The  soul,"  she  says,  "laid  in  fetters, 
loses  all  control  over  itself,  and  all  power  of  thinking  of  any- 
thing but  the  absurdities  he  puts  before  it,  which,  being  more 
or  less  unsubstantial,  inconsistent,  and  disconnected,  serve  only 
to  stifle  the  soul,  so  that  it  has  no  power  over  itself;  and 
accordingly — so  it  seems  to  me — the  devils  make  a  football 
of  it,  and  the  soul  is  unable  to  escape  out  of  their  hands.  It 
is  impossible  to  describe  the  sufferings  of  the  soul  in  this 
state.  It  goes  about  in  quest  of  relief,  and  God  suffers  it  to 
find  none.  The  light  of  reason,  in  the  freedom  of  its  will, 
remains,  but  it  is  not  clear ;  it  seems  to  me  as  if  its  eyes 
were  covered  with  a  veil.  .  .  .  Temptations  seem  to  press  it 
down,  and  make  it  dull,  so  that  its  knowledge  of  God  becomes 
to  it  as  that  of  something  which  it  hears  of  far  away."  This 
dullness  and  dimness  extends  to  ordinary  mental  activity,  which 
shares  in  the  lassitude  and  disorder  of  the  inner  life.  "  If  it 
seeks  relief  from  the  fire  by  spiritual  reading,  it  cannot  find  any, 
just  as  if  it  could  not  read  at  all.  On  one  occasion  it  occurred 
to  me  to  read  the  life  of  a  saint,  that  I  might  forget  myself 
and  be  refreshed  with  the  recital  of  what  he  had  suffered.  Four 
or  five  times,  I  read  as  many  lines ;  and  though  they  were 
written  in  Spanish,  I  understood  them  less  at  the  end  than 
I  did  when  I  began  :  so  I  gave  it  up.  It  so  happened  to  me  on 
more  occasions  than  one."2  If  we  are  reminded  of  anything 
here,  it  is  of  the  phenomenon  of  "  dark  contemplation."  That 
dimness  of  mind  which  we  there  studied,  is  here  extended  to 
the  most  normal  activities  of  the  surface  intelligence.  The 
Cloud  of  Unknowing,  rolling  up,  seems  to  envelop  the  whole 
self.     Contemplation,  the  "  way  within  the  way,"  has  epitomized 

1  E.  Gardner,  "St.  Catherine  of  Siena,"  p.  20. 
3  Vida,  cap.  xxx.  §§13  and  14. 


470  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

the  greater  process  of  the  mystic  life.  In  both,  the  path  to 
Light  lies  through  a  meek  surrender  to  the  confusion  and 
ignorance  of  the  "Dark."  The  stress  and  exasperation  felt  in 
this  dark,  this  state  of  vague  helplessness,  by  selves  of  an 
active  and  self-reliant  type,  is  exhibited  by  Teresa  in  one  of 
her  half-humorous  self-revealing  flashes.  "  The  Devil,"  she  says 
of  it,  "then  sends  so  offensive  a  spirit  of  bad  temper  that  I 
think  I  could  eat  people  up  ! "  z 

All  these  types  of  "darkness,"  with  their  accompanying 
and  overwhelming  sensations  of  impotence  and  distress,  are 
common  in  the  lives  of  the  mystics.  We  have  seen  them 
exhibited  at  length  in  Madame  Guyon's  writings.  Amongst 
innumerable  examples,  Suso  and  Rulman  Merswin  also  ex- 
perienced them :  Tauler  constantly  refers  to  them :  Angela 
of  Foligno  speaks  of  a  "  privation  worse  than  hell."  It  is  clear 
that  even  Mechthild  of  Magdeburg,  that  sunshiny  saint,  knew 
the  sufferings  of  the  loss  and  absence  of  God.  "  Lord,"  she  says 
in  one  place,  "  since  Thou  hast  taken  from  me  all  that  I  had  of 
Thee,  yet  of  Thy  grace  leave  me  the  gift  which  every  dog  has 
by  nature  :  that  of  being  true  to  Thee  in  my  distress,  when  I 
am  deprived  of  all  consolation.  This  I  desire  more  fervently 
than  Thy  heavenly  Kingdom  ! " 2  In  such  a  saying  as  this, 
the  whole  "value  for  life"  of  the  Dark  Night  is  abruptly 
revealed  to  us  :  as  an  education  in  selfless  constancy,  a  "  school 
of  suffering  love." 

E.  There  is,  however,  another  way  in  which  the  self's 
sense  of  a  continued  imperfection  in  its  relation  with  the  Abso- 
lute— of  work  yet  remaining  to  be  done — expresses  itself.  In 
persons  of  a  very  highly  strung  and  mobile  type,  who  tend 
to  rapid  oscillations  between  pain  and  pleasure  states,  rather 
than  to  the  long,  slow  movements  of  an  ascending  conscious- 
ness, attainment  of  the  Unitive  Life  is  sometimes  preceded 
by  the  abrupt  invasion  of  a  wild  and  unendurable  desire  to 
"  see  God "  :  to  apprehend  the  Transcendent  in  Its  fulness : 
which  can  only,  they  think,  be  satisfied  by  death.  As  they 
begin  to  outgrow  their  illuminated  consciousness,  these  selves 
begin  also  to  comprehend  how  partial  and  symbolic  that 
consciousness — even  at  its  best — has  been :    and   their  move- 

x  Op.cit.Joc.cit. 
"  Das  Fliessende  Licht  der  Gottheit,"  pt.  ii.  cap.  25. 


THE  DARK  NIGHT  OF  THE  SOUL  471 

ment  to  union  with  God  is  foreshadowed  by  a  passionate 
and  uncontrollable  longing  for  ultimate  Reality.  This  passion 
is  so  intense,  that  it  causes  acute  anguish  in  those  who  feel 
it.  It  brings  with  it  all  the  helpless  and  desolate  feelings  of 
the  Dark  Night;  and  sometimes  rises  to  the  heights  of  a 
negative  rapture,  an  ecstasy  of  deprivation.  St.  Teresa  is 
perhaps  the  best  instance  of  this  rather  rare  method  of 
apprehending  the  self's  essential  separation  from  its  home, 
which  is  also  the  subject  of  a  celebrated  chapter  in  the 
"Traite  de  1' Amour  de  Dieu"  of  St.  Francis  de  Sales.1  Thanks 
to  her  exceptionally  mobile  temperament,  her  tendency  to 
rush  up  and  down  the  scale  of  feeling,  Teresa's  states  of 
joyous  rapture  were  often  paid  for  by  such  a  "great  deso- 
lation " — a  dark  ecstasy  or  "  pain  of  God."  "  As  long  as  this 
pain  lasts,"  she  says,  "it  is  impossible  to  the  soul  to  think 
of  anything  that  has  to  do  with  her  own  being  :  from  the 
first  instant  all  her  faculties  are  suspended  as  far  as  this 
world  is  concerned,  and  they  only  preserve  their  activity  in 
order  to  increase  her  martyrdom.  Here  I  do  not  wish  to 
be  accused  of  exaggeration.  I  am  sure,  on  the  contrary, 
that  what  I  say  is  less  than  the  truth  ;  for  lack  of  words 
in  which  it  may  be  expressed.  This,  I  repeat,  is  an  enhance- 
ment of  the  senses  and  the  faculties  as  regards  all  which 
does  not  contribute  to  make  the  soul  feel  this  pain.  For  the 
understanding  perceives  very  clearly  why  the  soul  is  in 
affliction,  far  from  her  God :  and  our  Lord  increases  her  grief 
in  showing  her  in  a  vivid  light  His  sovereign  loveliness. 
The  pain  thus  grows  to  such  a  degree  of  intensity  that  in  spite 
of  oneself  one  cries  aloud.  This  is  what  happened  to  the  per- 
son of  whom  I  have  spoken  [St.  Teresa  herself]  when  she  was 
in  this  state.  In  spite  of  her  patience,  in  spite  of  her  familiarity 
with  suffering,  she  could  not  suppress  those  cries :  because, 
as  I  have  said,  this  is  not  a  pain  which  is  felt  in  the  body, 
but  in  the  depths  of  the  soul.  This  person  then  learned  how 
much  more  intense  are  the  pains  of  the  soul  than  those  of 
the  body."  a 

Moreover,  the  intense  and  painful  concentration  upon   the 
Divine   Absence  which   takes   place   in   this    "dark   rapture" 

*  L.  vi.  cap.  xiii. 

•  M  El  Castillo  Interior,"  Moradas  Sextas,  cap.  xi. 


472  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

induces  all  the  psycho-physical  marks  of  ecstasy.  "  Although 
this  ecstasy  lasts  but  a  short  time,  the  bones  of  the  body 
seem  to  be  disjointed  by  it.  The  pulse  is  as  feeble  as  if 
one  were  at  the  point  of  death,  but  whilst  the  natural  heat 
of  the  body  is  lacking  and  almost  extinguished,  the  soul  on 
the  contrary  feels  itself  so  burned  up  by  the  fire  of  its  love, 
that  with  a  few  more  degrees  it  would  escape,  as  it  desires, 
and  throw  itself  into  the  arms  of  God.  .  .  .  You  will  tell  me, 
perhaps,  that  there  is  imperfection  in  this  desire  to  see  God :  and 
this  humbled  soul  ought  to  conform  herself  to  His  will  Who 
keeps  her  still  in  this  exile.  Before,  I  answer,  she  could  do 
this ;  and  this  consideration  helped  her  to  endure  her  life. 
But  now,  impossible!  She  is  no  longer  mistress  of  her 
reason,  and  can  think  of  nothing  but  the  causes  of  her  afflic- 
tion. Far  from  her  Sovereign  Good,  how  could  she  desire 
to  live  ?  She  feels  in  an  extraordinary  solitude :  neither  the 
creatures  here  below,  nor  even  the  inhabitants  of  heaven,  are 
companionable  to  her,  if  He  whom  she  loves  be  not  in  the  midst 
of  them.  There  is  no  alleviation  to  be  found  in  this  world  : 
all,  on  the  contrary,  torments  her.  She  is  like  a  person  sus- 
pended in  the  air,  who  can  neither  plant  her  foot  upon  the 
earth,  nor  raise  herself  to  heaven.  She  burns  with  a  con- 
suming thirst,  and  cannot  drink  at  the  well  which  she  desires. 
There  is  nothing  in  this  world  which  can  soothe  the  violence 
of  that  thirst :  and  besides,  the  soul  would  not  consent  to 
quench  it  with  any  other  water  than  that  of  which  our  Lord 
spoke  to  the  Samaritan  woman,  and  this  water  is  denied 
her."* 

Now  all  these  forms  of  the  Dark  Night — the  "  Absence 
of  God,"  the  sense  of  sin,  the  dark  ecstasy,  the  loss  of  the 
self's  old  passion,  peace  and  joy,  and  its  apparent  relapse 
to  lower  spiritual  and  mental  levels — are  considered  by  the 
mystics  themselves  to  constitute  aspects  or  parts  of  one  and 
the  same  process :  the  final  purification  of  the  will  or  strong- 
hold of  personality,  that  it  may  be  merged  without  any 
reserve  "in  God  where  it  was  first."  The  function  of  this 
process  upon  the  Mystic  Way  is  to  cure  the  soul  of  the 
innate  tendency  to  seek  and  rest  in  spiritual  joys  ;  to  confuse 
Reality  with  the  joy  given  by  the  contemplation  of  Reality.  It 
1  St.  Teresa,  oi>.  tit.,  loc.  cit.    Compare  the  Vida,  cap.  xx.  §§  n  to  14. 


THE   DARK  NIGHT   OF  THE   SOUL  473 

is  the  completion  of  that  ordering  of  disordered  loves,  that 
transvaluation  of  values,  which  the  Way  of  Purgation  began. 
The  ascending  self  must  leave  these  childish  satisfactions;  make 
its  love  absolutely  disinterested,  strong,  and  courageous,  abolish 
all  taint  of  spiritual  gluttony.  A  total  abandonment  of  the 
personal  standard,  of  that  trivial  and  egotistic  quest  of  per- 
sonal success  which  thwarts  the  great  movement  of  the  Flowing 
Light,  is  the  supreme  condition  of  man's  participation  in 
Reality.  This  is  true  not  only  of  the  complete  participation 
which  is  possible  to  the  great  mystic,  but  of  those  unselfish 
labours  in  which  the  initiates  of  science  or  of  art  become  to 
the  Eternal  Goodness  "what  his  own  hand  is  to  a  man." 
"  Think  not,"  says  Tauler,  "  that  God  will  be  always  caressing 
His  children,  or  shine  upon  their  head,  or  kindle  their  hearts 
as  He  does  at  the  first.  He  does  so  only  to  lure  us  to 
Himself,  as  the  falconer  lures  the  falcon  with  its  gay  hood.  .  . 
We  must  stir  up  and  rouse  ourselves  and  be  content  to 
leave  off  learning,  and  no  more  enjoy  feeling  and  fire,  and 
must  now  serve  the  Lord  with  strenuous  industry  and  at 
our  own  cost."  x 

This  manly  view  of  the  Dark  Night  as  a  growth  in 
responsibility — an  episode  of  character-building — in  which,  as 
the  "  Mirror  of  Simple  Souls  "  has  it,  "  the  soul  leaves  that  pride 
and  play  wherein  it  was  full  gladsome  and  jolly,"  is  charac- 
teristic of  the  German  mystics.  We  find  it  again  in  Suso, 
to  whom  the  angel  of  his  tribulation  gave  no  sentimental  con- 
solations ;  but  only  the  stern  command,  "  Viriliter  agite " — 
"  Be  a  man  !  "  "  Then  first,"  says  Tauler  again,  "  do  we  attain 
to  the  fullness  of  God's  love  as  His  children,  when  it  is  no 
longer  happiness  or  misery,  prosperity  or  adversity,  that  draws 
us  to  Him  or  keeps  us  back  from  Him.  What  we  should 
then  experience  none  can  utter ;  but  it  would  be  some- 
thing far  better  than  when  we  were  burning  with  the  first 
flame  of  love,  and  had  great  emotion,  but  less  true  sub- 
mission." 2 

In  Illumination,  the  soul,  basking  in  the  uncreated  Light, 
identified  the  Divine  Nature  with  the  divine  light  and 
sweetness  which    it    then    enjoyed.      Its  consciousness  of  the 

1  Sermon  for  the  4th  Sunday  in  Lent  (Winkworth's  translation,  p.  280). 
»  Op.  cit.,  be.  cit. 


474  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

transcendent  has  been  felt  chiefly  as  an  increase  of  personal 
vision  and  personal  joy.  Thus,  in  that  apparently  selfless 
state,  the  "I,  the  Me,  the  Mine,"  though  spiritualized,  still 
remained  intact.  The  mortification  of  the  senses  was  more 
than  repaid  by  the  rich  and  happy  life  which  this  mortifica- 
tion conferred  upon  the  soul.  But  before  real  and  permanent 
union  with  the  Absolute  can  take  place :  before  the  whole 
self  can  learn  to  live  on  those  high  levels  where — its  being 
utterly  surrendered  to  the  Infinite  Will — it  can  be  wholly 
transmuted  in  God,  merged  in  the  great  life  of  the  All ;  this 
separated  life,  this  dependence  on  personal  joys,  must  be  done 
away.  The  spark  of  the  soul,  the  fast-growing  germ  of 
divine  humanity,  must  so  invade  every  corner  of  character 
that  the  self  can  only  say  with  St.  Catherine  of  Genoa,  "  My 
me  is  God :  nor  do  I  know  my  selfhood  except  in  God."1 

The  various  torments  and  desolations  of  the  Dark  Night 
constitute  this  last  and  drastic  purgation  of  the  spirit ;  the 
doing  away  of  separateness,  the  annihilation  of  selfhood,  even 
though  all  that  self  now  claims  for  its  own  be  the  Love 
of  God.  Such  a  claim — which  is  really  a  claim  to  entire 
felicity,  since  the  soul  which  possesses  it  needs  nothing  more 
— is  felt  by  these  great  spirits  to  sully  the  radiance  of  their 
self-giving  love.  "  All  that  I  would  here  say  of  these  inward 
delights  and  enjoyments,"  says  William  Law,  "  is  only  this ; 
they  are  not  holiness,  they  are  not  piety,  they  are  not  per- 
fection ;  but  they  are  God's  gracious  allurements  and  calls 
to  seek  after  holiness  and  spiritual  perfection  .  .  .  and  ought 
rather  to  convince  us  that  we  are  as  yet  but  babes,  than 
that  we  are  really  men  of  God.  .  .  .  This  alone  is  the  true 
Kingdom  of  God  opened  in  the  soul  when,  stripped  of  all 
selfishness,  it  has  only  one  love  and  one  will  in  it ;  when  it 
has  no  motion  or  desire  but  what  branches  from  the  Love 
of  God,  and  resigns  itself  wholly  to  the  Will  of  God.  .  .  . 
To  sum  up  all  in  a  word :  Nothing  hath  separated  us 
from  God  but  our  own  will,  or  rather  our  own  will  is  our 
separation  from  God.  All  the  disorder  and  corruption  and 
malady  of  our  nature  lies  in  a  certain  fixedness  of  our  own 
will,  imagination,  and  desire,  wherein  we  live  to  ourselves, 
are  our  own  centre  and  circumference,  act  wholly  from  our- 
1  Vita  e  Dottrina,  cap.  xiv. 


THE   DARK  NIGHT  OF  THE  SOUL  475 

selves,  according  to  our  own  will,  imagination,  and  desires. 
There  is  not  the  smallest  degree  of  evil  in  us  but  what 
arises  from  this  selfishness,  because  we  are  thus  all  in  all 
to  ourselves.  .  .  .  To  be  humble,  mortified,  devout,  patient  in  a 
certain  degree,  and  to  be  persecuted  for  our  virtues,  is  no 
hurt  to  this  selfishness  ;  nay,  spiritual-self  must  have  all  these 
virtues  to  subsist  upon,  and  his  life  consists  in  seeing,  know- 
ing, and  feeling  the  bulk,  strength,  and  reality  of  them. 
But  still,  in  all  this  show  and  glitter  of  virtue,  there  is  an 
unpurified  bottom  on  which  they  stand,  there  is  a  selfishness 
which  can  no  more  enter  into  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  than 
the  grossness  of  flesh  and  blood  can  enter  into  it.  What 
we  are  to  feel  and  undergo  in  these  last  purifications, 
when  the  deepest  root  of  all  selfishness,  as  well  spiritual  as 
natural,  is  to  be  plucked  up  and  torn  from  us,  or  how  we 
shall  be  able  to  stand  in  that  trial,  are  both  of  them  equally 
impossible  to  be  known  by  us  beforehand."  l 

yThe  self,  then,  has  got  to  learn  to  cease  to  be  its  "  own 
centre  and  circumference  "  :  to  make  that  final  surrender  which 
is  the  price  of  final  peace.  In  the  Dark  Night  the  starved  and 
tortured  spirit  learns  through  an  anguish  which  is,  as  Madame 
Guyon  says,  "  itself  an  orison  "  to  accept  lovelessness  for  the 
sake  of  Love,  Nothingness  for  the  sake  of  the  All ;  dies  with- 
out any  sure  promise  of  life,  loses  when  it  hardly  hopes  to  find. 
It  sees  with  amazement  the  most  sure  foundations  of  its  tran- 
scendental life  crumble  beneath  it,  dwells  in  a  darkness  which 
seems  to  hold  no  promise  of  a  dawn.  This  is  what  the  German 
mystics  call  the  "upper  school  of  true  resignation  "  or  of  "  suffer- 
ing love "  ;  the  last  test  of  heroic  detachment,  of  manliness,  of 
spiritual  courage.  Though  such  an  experience  is  "  passive  "  in 
the  sense  that  the  self  can  neither  enter  nor  leave  it  at  will,  it  is 
a  direct  invitation  to  active  endurance,  a  condition  of  stress  in 
which  work  is  done.  Thus,  when  St.  Catherine  of  Siena  was 
tormented  by  hideous  visions  of  sin,  she  was  being  led  by  her 
deeper  self  to  the  heroic  acceptance  of  this  subtle  form  of 
torture,  almost  unendurable  to  her  chaste  and  delicate  mind. 
When  these  trials  had  brought  her  to  the  point  at  which  she 
ceased  to  resist  them,  but  exclaimed,  "  I  have  chosen  suffering 

1  "  Christian  Regeneration  "  (The  Liberal  and  Mystical  Writings  of  William  Law, 
pp.  158-60). 


476  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

for  my  consolation,"  their  business  was  done.  They  ceased. 
More  significant  still,  when  she  asked,  "  Where  wast  Thou,  Lord 
when  I  was  tormented  by  this  foulness  ? "  the  Divine  Voice 
answered,  "  I  was  in  thy  heart."  J 

"  In  order  to  raise  the  soul  from  imperfection,"  said  the  Voice 
of  God  to  St.  Catherine  in  her  Dialogue,  "  I  withdraw  Myself 
from  her  sentiment,  depriving  her  of  former  consolations  .  .  . 
which  I  do  in  order  to  humiliate  her,  and  cause  her  to  seek  Me 
in  truth,  and  to  prove  her  in  the  light  of  faith,  so  that  she  come 
to  prudence.  Then,  if  she  love  Me  without  thought  of  self,  and 
with  lively  faith  and  with  hatred  of  her  own  sensuality,  she 
rejoices  in  the  time  of  trouble,  deeming  herself  unworthy  of 
peace  and  quietness  of  mind.  Now  comes  the  second  of  the 
three  things  of  which  I  told  thee,  that  is  to  say  :  how  the  soul 
arrives  at  perfection,  and  what  she  does  when  she  is  perfect. 
That  is  what  she  does.  Though  she  perceives  that  I  have 
withdrawn  Myself,  she  does  not,  on  that  account,  look  back  ; 
but  perseveres  with  humility  in  her  exercises,  remaining  barred 
in  the  house  of  self-knowledge,  and,  continuing  to  dwell  therein, 
awaits  with  lively  faith  the  coming  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  that  is  of 
Me,  who  am  the  Fire  of  Love.  .  .  .  This  is  what  the  soul  does 
in  order  to  rise  from  imperfection  and  arrive  at  perfection,  and 
it  is  to  this  end,  namely,  that  she  may  arrive  at  perfection,  that  I 
withdraw  from  her,  not  by  grace,  but  by  sentiment.  Once  more 
do  I  leave  her  so  that  she  may  see  and  know  her  defects,  so  that 
feeling  herself  deprived  of  consolation  and  afflicted  by  pain,  she 
may  recognize  her  own  weakness,  and  learn  how  incapable  she 
is  of  stability  or  perseverance,  thus  cutting  down  to  the  very 
root  of  spiritual  self-love :  for  this  should  be  the  end  and 
purpose  of  all  her  self-knowledge,  to  rise  above  herself,  mount- 
ing the  throne  of  conscience,  and  not  permitting  the  sentiment 
of  imperfect  love  to  turn  again  in  its  death-struggle,  but,  with 
correction  and  reproof,  digging  up  the  root  of  self-love  with  the 
knife  of  self-hatred  and  the  love  of  virtue."  2 

"  Digging  up  the  root  of  self-love  with  the  knife  of  self- 
hatred  " — here  we  see  the  mystical  reason  of  that  bitter  self- 
contempt  and  sense  of  helplessness  which  overwhelms  the  soul 
in  the  Dark  Night.  Such  a  sense  of  helplessness  is  really,  the 
mystics  say,  a  mark  of  progress  :  of  deeper  initiation  into  that 

1   Vide  sufi-a,  p.  469.  2  Dialogo,  cap.  lxiii. 


THE  DARK  NIGHT  OF  THE  SOUL  477 

sphere  of  reality  to  which  it  is  not  yet  acclimatized,  and  which 
brings  with  it  a  growing  consciousness  of  the  appalling  disparity 
between  that  Reality,  that  Perfection,  and  the  imperfect  soul. 

The  self  is  in  the  dark  because  it  is  blinded  by  a  Light  greater 
than  it  can  bear.  "  The  more  clear  the  light,  the  more  does  it 
blind  the  eyes  of  the  owl,  and  the  stronger  the  sun's  rays  the 
more  it  blinds  the  visual  organs ;  overcoming  them,  by  reason 
of  their  weakness,  and  depriving  them  of  the  power  of  seeing. 
So  the  divine  light  of  contemplation,  when  it  beats  on  the  soul 
not  yet  perfectly  enlightened,  causes  spiritual  darkness,  not  only 
because  it  surpasses  its  strength,  but  because  it  blinds  it  and 
deprives  it  of  its  natural  perceptions.  ...  As  eyes  weakened 
and  clouded  by  humours  suffer  pain  when  the  clear  light  beats 
upon  them,  so  the  soul,  by  reason  of  its  impurity,  suffers  exceed- 
ingly when  the  divine  light  really  shines  upon  it.  And  when 
the  rays  of  this  pure  light  shine  upon  the  soul,  in  order  to  expel 
its  impurities,  the  soul  perceives  itself  to  be  so  unclean  and  miser- 
able that  it  seems  as  if  God  had  set  Himself  against  it,  and  itself 
were  set  against  God.  .  .  .  Wonderful  and  piteous  sight !  so 
great  are  the  weakness  and  impurity  of  the  soul  that  the  hand  of 
God,  so  soft  and  so  gentle,  is  felt  to  be  so  heavy  and  oppressive, 
though  neither  pressing  nor  resting  on  it,  but  merely  touching  it, 
and  that,  too,  most  mercifully ;  for  He  touches  the  soul,  not  to 
chastise  it,  but  to  load  it  with  His  graces."  x 

The  Dark  Night  then,  whichever  way  we  look  at  it,  is  a 
state  of  disharmony ;  of  imperfect  adaptation  to  environment. 
The  self,  unaccustomed  to  that  direct  contact  of  the  Absolute 
which  is  destined  to  become  the  Source  of  its  vitality  and  its 
joy,  feels  the  "  soft  and  gentle  touch  "  of  the  Following  Love  as 
unbearable  in  its  weight.  The  "  self-naughting  "  or  "  purification 
of  the  will,"  which  here  takes  place,  is  the  struggle  to  resolve  that 
disharmony,  to  purge  away  the  somewhat  which  still  sets  itself 
up  in  the  soul  as  separate  from  the  Divine  :  and  makes  the  clear 
light  of  reality  a  torment  instead  of  a  joy.  So  deeply  has  the  soul 
now  entered  into  the  great  stream  of  spiritual  life,  so  dominant 
has  her  transcendental  faculty  become,  that  this  process  is 
accomplished  in  her  whether  she  will  or  no:  and  in  this  sense  it 
is,  as  ascetic  writers  sometimes  call  it,  a  "  passive  purgation." 
So  long  as  the  subject  still  feels  himself  to  be  somewhat  he 
3  St.  John  of  the  Cross,  "  Noche  Escura  del  Alma,"  1.  ii.  cap.  v. 


478  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

has   not   yet  annihilated   selfhood    and  come  to  that  ground 
where  his  being  can  be  united  with  the  Being  of  God. 

Only  when  he  learns  to  cease  thinking  of  himself  at 
all,  in  however  depreciatory  a  sense  ;  when  he  abolishes  even 
such  selfhood  as  lies  in  a  desire  for  the  sensible  presence 
of  God,  will  that  harmony  be  attained.  This  is  the  "  naughting 
of  the  soul,"  the  utter  surrender  to  the  great  movement  of  the 
Absolute  Life,  which  is  insisted  upon  at  such  length  by  all 
writers  upon  mysticism.  Here,  as  in  purgation,  the  condition 
» of  access  to  higher  levels  of  vitality  is  a  death :  a  depriva- 
tion, a  detachment,  a  clearing  of  the  ground.  Poverty  leaps 
to  the  Cross :  and  finds  there  an  utter  desolation,  without 
promise  of  spiritual  reward.  The  satisfactions  of  the  spirit  must 
now  go  the  same  way  as  the  satisfactions  of  the  senses.  Even 
the  power  of  voluntary  sacrifice  and  self-discipline  is  taken 
away.  A  dreadful  ennui,  a  dull  helplessness,  takes  its  place. 
The  mystic  motto,  /  am  nothing,  I  have  nothing,  I  desire  nothing, 
must  now  express  not  only  the  detachment  of  the  senses,  but 
the  whole  being's  surrender  to  the  All. 

The  moral  condition  towards  which  the  interior  travail  is 
directed  is  that  of  an  utter  humility.  u  Everything  depends," 
says  Tauler,  on  "  a  fathomless  sinking  in  a  fathomless  nothing- 
ness." He  continues,  "  If  a  man  were  to  say,  '  Lord,  who  art 
Thou,  that  I  must  follow  Thee  through  such  deep,  gloomy, 
miserable  paths  ?  '  the  Lord  would  reply,  '  I  am  God  and  Man, 
and  far  more  God.'  If  a  man  could  answer  then,  really 
and  consciously  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart,  'Then  I  am 
nothing  and  less  than  nothing ' ;  all  would  be  accomplished, 
for  the  Godhead  has  really  no  place  to  work  in,  but  ground 
where  all  has  been  annihilated.1  As  the  schoolmen  say,  when  a 
new  form  is  to  come  into  existence,  the  old  must  of  necessity  be 
destroyed.  .  .  .  And  so  I  say :  *  If  a  man  is  to  be  thus  clothed 
upon  with  this  Being,  all  the  forms  must  of  necessity  be  done 
away  that  were  ever  received  by  him  in  all  his  powers — of 
perception,  knowledge,  will,  work,  of  subjection,  sensibility  and 
self-seeking.'  When  St.  Paul  saw  nothing,  he  saw  God.  So  also 
when  Elias  wrapped  his  face  in  his  mantle,  God  came.  All 
strong  rocks  are  broken  here,  all  on  which  the  spirit  can  rest 
must  be  done   away.     Then,  when   all  forms   have  ceased  to 

1  I.e.,  the  pure  essence  of  the  soul,  purged  of  selfhood  and  illusion. 


THE  DARK  NIGHT  OF  THE  SOUL  479 

exist,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  the  man  is  transformed. 
Therefore  thou  must  make  an  entrance.  Thereupon  speaks 
the  Heavenly  Father  to  him :  "  Thou  shalt  call  Me  Father, 
and  shalt  never  cease  to  enter  in  ;  entering  ever  further  in, 
ever  nearer,  so  as  to  sink  the  deeper  in  an  unknown  and 
unnamed  abyss ;  and,  above  all  ways,  images  and  forms,  and 
above  all  powers,  to  lose  thyself,  deny  thyself,  and  even  unform 
thyself."  In  this  lost  condition  nothing  is  to  be  seen  but  a 
ground  which  rests  upon  itself,  everywhere  one  Being,  one  Life- 
It  is  thus,  man  may  say,  that  he  becomes  unknowing,  unloving, 
and  senseless."  x 

It  is  clear  that  so  drastic  a  process  of  unselfing  is  not  likely 
to  take  place  without  stress.  It  is  the  negative  aspect  of 
"deification"  :  in  which  the  self,  deprived  of  "perception,  know- 
ledge, will,  work,  self-seeking" — the  I,  the  Me,  the  Mine — loses 
itself,  denies  itself,  unforms  itself,  drawing  "  ever  nearer  "  to  the 
One,  till  "  nothing  is  to  be  seen  but  a  ground  which  rests  upon 
itself" — the  ground  of  the  soul,  in  which  it  has  union  with  God. 

"  Everywhere  one  Being,  one  Life " — this  is  the  goal  of 
mystical  activity ;  the  final  state  of  equilibrium  towards  which 
the  self  is  moving,  or  rather  struggling,  in  the  dimness  and 
anguish  of  the  Dark  Night.  "  The  soul,"  says  Madame 
Guyon  in  a  passage  of  unusual  beauty,  "  after  many  a  redoubled 
death,  expires  at  last  in  the  arms  of  Love  ;  but  she  is  unable 
to  perceive  these  arms.  .  .  .  Then,  reduced  to  Nought,  there  is 
found  in  her  ashes  a  seed  of  immortality,  which  is  preserved 
in  these  ashes  and  will  germinate  in  its  season.  But  she 
knows  not  this  ;  and  does  not  expect  ever  to  see  herself 
living  again."  Moreover,  "  the  soul  which  is  reduced  to  the 
Nothing,  ought  to  dwell  therein ;  without  wishing,  since  she 
is  now  but  dust,  to  issue  from  this  state,  nor,  as  before, 
desiring  to  live  again.  She  must  remain  as  something  which 
no  longer  exists :  and  this,  in  order  that  the  Torrent  may 
drown  itself  and  lose  itself  in  the  Sea,  never  to  find  itself 
in  its  selfhood  again :  that  it  may  become  one  and  the  same 
thing  with  the  Sea." 2 

So  Hilton  says  of  the  "  naughted  soul,"  "  the  less  that  it 
thinketh  that  it   loveth  or   seeth  God,  the   nearer   it   nigheth 

*  Sermon  on  St.  Matthew  ("The  Inner  Way,"  pp.  204,  205). 
3  "  Les  Torrents,"  pt.  i.  cap.  viii. 


480  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

for  to  perceive  the  gift  of  this  blessed  love  ;  for  then  is  love 
master,  and  worketh  in  the  soul,  and  maketh  it  forget  itself, 
and  for  to  see  and  look  on  only  how  love  worketh :  and  then 
is  the  soul  more  suffering  than  doing,  and  that  is  pure 
love."  * 

The  "  mystic  death  "  or  Dark  Night  is  therefore  an  aspect  or 
incident  of  the  self's  self-loss  in  the  Abyss  of  the  Divine 
Life ;  of  that  mergence  and  union  of  the  soul  with  the  Abso- 
lute which  is  the  whole  object  of  the  mystical  evolution  of 
man.  It  is  the  last  painful  break  with  the  life  of  illusion, 
the  tearing  away  of  the  self  from  that  World  of  Becoming  in 
which  all  its  natural  affections  and  desires  are  rooted,  to 
which  its  intellect  and  senses  correspond ;  and  the  thrusting 
of  it  into  that  World  of  Being  where  at  first,  weak  and 
blinded,  it  can  but  find  a  wilderness,  a  "  dark."  No 
transmutation  without  fire,  say  the  alchemists :  No  cross, 
no  crown,  says  the  Christian.  All  the  great  experts  of  the 
spiritual  life  agree — whatever  be  their  creeds,  their  symbols, 
their  explanation — in  describing  this  stress,  tribulation,  and 
loneliness,  as  an  essential  part  of  the  way  from  the  Many 
to  the  One. 

The  Dark  Night,  then,  brings  the  self  to  the  threshold 
of  that  completed  life  which  is  to  be  lived  in  intimate  union 
with  Reality.  It  is  the  Entombment  which  precedes  the 
Resurrection,  say  the  Christian  mystics ;  ever  ready  to  de- 
scribe their  life-process  in  the  language  of  their  faith.  Here 
as  elsewhere — but  nowhere  else  in  so  drastic  a  sense — the 
self  must  "lose  to  find  and  die  to  live." 

The  Dark  Night,  as  we  have  seen,  tends  to  establish 
itself  gradually ;  the  powers  and  intuitions  of  the  self 
being  withdrawn  one  after  another,  the  intervals  of  lucidity 
becoming  rarer,  until  the  "mystic  death"  or  state  of  total 
deprivation  is  reached.  So,  too,  when  the  night  begins  to 
break  down  before  the  advance  of  the  new  or  Unitive  Life, 
the  process  is  generally  slow,  though  it  may  be  marked — as 
for  instance  in  Rulman  Merswin's  case — by  visions  and 
ecstasies.2  One  after  another,  the  miseries  and  disharmonies 
of  the  Dark  Night  give  way:  affirmation  takes  the  place  of  nega- 

1  "  The  Scale  of  Perfection,"  bk.  iii.  cap.  v. 
*  Jundt,  "  Rulman  Merswin,"  p.  22. 


THE   DARK  NIGHT  OF  THE  SOUL  481 

tion :  the  Cloud  of  Unknowing  is  pierced  by  rays  of  light. 
"When  the  old  state  of  deprivation  has  reached  its  term," 
says  Madame  Guyon,  "this  dead  self  feels  little  by  little, 
yet  without  feeling,  that  its  ashes  revive  and  take  a  new 
life  :  but  this  happens  so  gradually  that  it  seems  to  her  that 
it  is  but  a  fancy,  or  a  sleep  in  which  one  has  had  a  happy 
dream.  .  .  .  And  in  this  consists  the  last  degree  ;  which  is  the 
beginning  of  the  Divine  and  truly  Interior  Life  which  con- 
tains an  infinite  number  of  degrees,  and  wherein  one  may 
always  go  forward  without  end,  even  as  this  Torrent  can 
always  go  forward  in  the  Sea,  and  take  therefrom  the  more 
qualities  the  longer  it  sojourns  there."  I 

The  act  of  utter  surrender  then,  which  is  produced  by 
the  Dark  Night,  has  given  the  self  its  footing  in  Eternity: 
the  abandonment  of  the  old  centres  of  consciousness  has 
permitted  movement  towards  the  new.  In  each  such  forward 
movement,  the  Transcendental  Self,  that  spark  of  the  soul 
which  is  united  to  the  Absolute  Life,  has  invaded  more  and 
more  the  seat  of  personality ;  advanced  in  that  unresting 
process  which  involves  the  remaking  of  the  self  in  conformity 
with  the  Eternal  World.  In  the  misery  and  apparent  stag- 
nation of  the  Dark  Night,  in  that  dimness  of  the  spiritual 
consciousness,  that  dullness  of  its  will  and  love,  work  has  been 
done ;  and  the  last  great  stage  of  the  inward  transmutation 
accomplished.  The  self  which  comes  forth  from  the  night 
is  no  separated  self,  conscious  of  the  illumination  of  the  Un- 
created Light,  but  the  New  Man,  the  transmuted  humanity, 
whose  life  is  one  with  the  Absolute  Life  of  God.  "  The  instant 
the  two  houses  of  the  soul  [the  sensual  and  the  spiritual] 
are  tranquil  and  confirmed,"  says  St.  John  of  the  Cross,  "  with 
the  whole  household  of  its  powers  and  desires  sunk  in  sleep 
and  silence,  as  to  all  things  of  heaven  and  earth,  the  Divine 
Wisdom  immediately  in  a  new  bond  of  loving  possession 
unites  itself  to  the  soul,  and  that  is  fulfilled  which  is  written, 
'While  quiet  silence  contained  all  things  and  the  night  was 
in  the  midway  of  her  course,  Thy  omnipotent  Word  sallied 
out  of  heaven  from  the  royal  seats '  (Wisdom  xviii.  14). 
The  same  truth  is  set  before  us  in  the  Canticle,  where  the 
Bride,  after    passing   by   those  who    took   her  veil  away  and 

1  M  Les  Torrents,"  pt.  i.  cap.  viii. 
II 


482  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

wounded  her,  saith,  '  When   I   had  a  little  passed  by  them  I 
found  Him  whom  my  soul  loveth'  (Cant.  iii.  4)."1 


So  far,  we  have  considered  the  Dark  Night  of  the  Soul 
from  a  somewhat  academic  point  of  view.  We  have  tried  to 
dissect  and  describe  it :  have  seen  it  through  the  medium  of 
literature  rather  than  of  life.  Such  a  proceeding  has  obvious 
disadvantages  when  dealing  with  any  organic  process :  and  in 
its  application  to  the  spiritual  life  of  man,  these  disadvan- 
tages are  increased.  Moreover,  our  chief  example,  "  from  the 
life,"  Madame  Guyon,  valuable  as  her  passion  for  self  analysis 
makes  her  to  the  student  of  mystic  states,  cannot  be  looked 
upon  as  a  wholly  satisfactory  witness.  Her  morbid  sentimen- 
talism,  her  absurd  "  spiritual  self-importance "  has  to  be  taken 
into  account  and  constantly  remembered  in  estimating  the 
value  of  her  psychological  descriptions.  If  we  want  to  get  a 
true  objective  idea  of  the  Dark  Night,  we  must  see  it  in  its 
wholeness  as  a  part  of  the  general  life-process ;  not  as  a 
departmental  experience.  We  must  study  the  reactions  of  a 
self  which  is  passing  through  this  stage  of  development  upon 
its  normal  environment,  the  content  of  its  diurnal  existence  ; 
not  only  on  its  intuition  of  the  Divine. 

As  a  pendant  to  this  chapter,  then,  we  will  look  at  this 
"  state  of  pain  "  as  it  expressed  itself  in  the  life  of  a  mystic 
whose  ardent,  impressionable,  and  poetic  nature  reacted  to 
every  aspect  of  the  contemplative  experience,  every  mood 
and  fluctuation  of  the  soul.  I  choose  this  particular  case — 
the  case  of  Suso — (1)  because  it  contains  many  interesting 
and  unconventional  elements ;  showing  us  the  Dark  Night  not 
as  a  series  of  specific  events,  but  as  a  stage  of  development 
largely  conditioned  by  individual  temperament :  (2)  because, 
being  described  to  us  at  first  hand,  in  the  pages  of  his 
singularly  ingenuous  Autobiography,  it  is  comparatively  free 
from  the  reverent  and  corrupting  emendations  of  the  hagio- 
grapher. 

Suso's  "  Life,"  from  the  22nd  chapter  onwards,  is  one  of  the 
most  valuable  documents  which  we  possess  for  the  study  of 
this  period  of  the  Mystic  Way.     We  see  in  it — more  clearly 

x  "  Noehe  Escura  del  Alma,"  1.  ii.  cap.  xxiv. 


THE   DARK   NIGHT  OF  THE  SOUL  483 

perhaps  than  its  author  can  have  done — the  remaking  of  his 
consciousness,  his  temperamental  reactions  to  the  ceaseless 
and  inexorable  travail  of  his  deeper  self :  so  different  in  type 
from  those  of  Madame  Guyon  and  St.  Teresa.  There  is  a 
note  of  virile  activity  about  these  trials  and  purifications,  an 
insistence  upon  the  heroic  aspect  of  the  spiritual  life,  which 
most  of  us  find  far  more  sympathetic  than  Madame  Guyon's 
elaborate  discourses  on  resignation  and  holy  passivity,  or 
even  St.  Teresa's  "  dark  ecstasies  "  of  insatiable  desire. 

The  chapter  in  which  Suso's  entrance  into  this  "  Second 
Mystic  Life "  of  deprivation  is  described  is  called  "  How  the 
Servitor  was  led  into  the  School  of  True  Resignation." 
Characteristically,  this  inward  experience  expressed  itself  in 
a  series  of  dramatic  visions ;  visions  of  that  "  dynamic " 
kind  which  we  have  noticed  as  a  common  accompaniment 
of  the  crisis  in  which  the  mystic  self  moves  to  a  new  level 
of  consciousness.1  It  followed  the  long  period  of  constant 
mortification  and  intermittent  illumination  which  lasted,  as  he 
tells  us,  from  his  eighteenth  to  his  fortieth  year :  and  con- 
stituted the  first  cycle  of  his  spiritual  life.  At  the  end  of 
that  time,  "  God  showed  him  that  all  this  severity  and  these 
penances  were  but  a  good  beginning,  that  by  these  he  had 
triumphed  over  the  unruly  sensual  man :  but  that  now  he 
must  exert  himself  in  another  manner  if  he  desired  to 
advance  in  the  Way."2 

In  two  of  these  visions — these  vivid  interior  dramas — we 
seem  to  see  Suso's  developed  mystical  consciousness  running 
ahead  of  its  experience,  reading  the  hidden  book  of  its  own 
future,  probing  its  own  spiritual  necessities ;  and  presenting 
the  results  to  the  backward  and  unwilling  surface-mind. 
This  growing  mystic  consciousness  is  already  aware  of  fetters 
which  the  normal  Suso  does  not  feel.  Its  eyes  open  upon 
the  soul's  true  country,  it  sees  the  path  which  it  must  tread 
to  perfect  freedom  ;  the  difference  between  the  quality  of  that 
freedom  and  the  spirituality  which  Suso  thinks  that  he  has 
attained.  The  first  of  these  visions  is  that  of  the  Upper 
School ;  the  second  is  that  in  which  he  is  called  to  put 
upon  him  the  armour  of  a  knight. 

"  One  night  after  matins,  the  Servitor  being  seated  in  his 

*   Vide  supra,  p.  348.  2  Leben,  cap.  xx. 


484  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

chair,  and  plunged  in  deep  thought,  he  was  rapt  from  his 
senses.  And  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  saw  in  a  vision  a 
magnificent  young  man  descend  from  Heaven  before  him, 
and  say,  "  Thou  hast  been  long  enough  in  the  Lower  School, 
and  hast  there  sufficiently  applied  thyself.  Come,  then,  with 
me  ;  and  I  will  introduce  thee  into  the  highest  school  that 
exists  in  this  world.1  There,  thou  shalt  apply  thyself  to  the 
study  of  that  science  which  will  procure  thee  the  veritable 
peace  of  God  ;  and  which  will  bring  thy  holy  beginning  to  a 
happy  end."  Then  the  Servitor  rose,  full  of  joy  ;  and  it  seemed 
to  him  that  the  young  man  took  him  by  the  hand  and  led 
him  into  a  spiritual  country,  wherein  there  was  a  fair  house 
inhabited  by  spiritual  men :  for  here  lived  those  who  applied 
themselves  to  the  study  of  this  science.  As  soon  as  he 
entered  it,  these  received  him  kindly,  and  amiably  saluted 
him.  And  at  once  they  went  to  the  supreme  Master,  and 
told  him  that  a  man  was  come,  who  desired  to  be  his 
disciple  and  to  learn  his  science.  And  he  said,  "  Let  him 
come  before  me,  that  I  may  see  whether  he  please  me." 
And  when  the  supreme  Master  saw  the  Servitor,  he  smiled 
on  him  very  kindly,  and  said,  "  Know  that  this  guest  is  able 
to  become  a  good  disciple  of  our  high  science,  if  he  will 
bear  with  patience  the  hard  probation  :  for  it  is  necessary 
that  he  be  tried  inwardly." 

"  The  Servitor  did  not  then  understand  these  enigmatic 
words.  He  turned  toward  the  young  man  who  had  brought 
him  and  asked, "  Well,  my  dear  comrade,  what  then  is  this 
Upper  School  and  this  science  of  which  you  have  spoken 
to  me  ? "  The  young  man  replied  thus :  "  In  this  Upper 
School  they  teach  the  science  of  Perfect  Self-abandonment ; 
that  is  to  say,  that  a  man  is  here  taught  to  renounce  him- 
self so  utterly  that,  in  all  those  circumstances  in  which  God 
is  manifested,  either  by  Himself  or  in  His  creatures,  the  man 
applies  himself  only  to  remaining  calm  and  unmoved, 
renouncing    so    far  as  is  possible    all    human  frailty."     And 

1  These  expressions,  the  Upper  and  Lower  School  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  as  applied 
to  the  first  and  second  mystic  life,  were  common  to  the  whole  group  of  "  Friends  of 
God,"  and  appear  frequently  in  their  works.  Vide  supra,  p.  441,  Rulman  Merswin's 
"Vision  of  Nine  Rocks,"  where  the  man  who  has  "gazed  upon  his  Origin"  is 
said  to  have  been  in  the  Upper  School  of  the  Holy  Spirit ;  i.e.,  to  have  been 
united  to  God. 


THE  DARK  NIGHT  OF  THE  SOUL  485 

shortly  after  this  discourse,  the  Servitor  came  to  himself  .  .  . 
and,  talking  to  himself,  he  said,  "  Examine  thyself  inwardly 
and  thou  wilt  see  that  thou  hast  still  much  self-will :  thou 
wilt  observe,  that  with  all  thy  mortifications  which  thou  hast 
inflicted  on  thyself,  thou  canst  not  yet  endure  external 
vexations.  Thou  art  like  a  hare  hiding  in  a  bush,  who  is 
frightened  by  the  whispering  of  the  leaves.  Thou  also  art 
frightened  every  day  by  the  griefs  that  come  to  thee:  thou 
dost  turn  pale  at  the  sight  of  those  who  speak  against  thee : 
when  thou  dost  fear  to  succumb,  thou  takest  flight ;  when 
thou  oughtest  to  present  thyself  with  simplicity,  thou  dost 
hide  thyself.  When  they  praise  thee,  thou  art  happy:  when 
they  blame  thee,  thou  art  sad.  Truly  it  is  very  needful  for 
thee  that  thou  shouldst  go  to  an  Upper  School." x 

Some  weeks  later,  when  he  had  been  rejoicing  in  the  new 
bodily  comfort  which  resulted  from  his  relinquishment  of  all 
outward  mortifications,  Suso  received  a  still  more  pointed 
lesson  on  his  need  of  moral  courage.  He  was  sitting  on  his 
bed  and  meditating  on  the  words  of  Job  "  Militia  est."  "  The 
life  of  man  upon  the  earth  is  like  unto  that  of  a  knight "  : 2 
"  and  during  this  meditation,  he  was  once  more  rapt  from  his 
senses,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  saw  coming  towards 
him  a  fair  youth  of  manly  bearing,  who  held  in  his  hands  the 
spurs  and  the  other  apparel  which  knights  are  accustomed 
to  wear.  And  he  drew  near  to  the  Servitor,  and  clothed  him 
in  a  coat  of  mail,  and  said  to  him,  "  Oh,  knight !  hitherto 
thou  hast  been  but  a  squire,  but  now  it  is  God's  will  that 
thou  be  raised  to  knighthood."  And  the  Servitor  gazed  at 
his  spurs,  and  said  with  much  amazement  in  his  heart,  "  Alas, 
my  God !  what  has  befallen  me  ?  what  have  I  become  ?  must 
I  indeed  be  a  knight?  I  had  far  rather  remain  in  peace." 
Then  he  said  to  the  young  man,  "  Since  it  is  God's  will  that 
I  should  be  a  knight  I  had  rather  have  won  my  spurs  in 
battle;  for  this  would  have  been  more  glorious."  The  young 
man  turned  away  and  began  to  laugh :  and  said  to  him, 
"  Have  no  fear !  thou  shalt  have  battles  enough.  He  who 
would  play  a  valiant  part  in  the  spiritual  chivalry  of  God 
must  endure  more  numerous  and  more  dreadful  combats  than 
any  which  were  encountered  by  the  proud  heroes  of  ancient 

1  Leben,  cap.  xxi.  2  Job  vii.  I  (Vulgate). 


1r 


486  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

days,  of  whom  the  world  tells  and  sings  the  knightly  deeds. 
It  is  not  that  God  desires  to  free  thee  from  thy  burdens  ; 
He  would  only  change  them,  and  make  them  far  heavier 
than  they  have  ever  been."  Then  the  Servitor  said,  "  Oh,  Lord, 
show  me  my  pains  in  advance,  in  order  that  I  may  know 
them."  The  Lord  replied,  "  No,  it  is  better  that  thou  know 
nothing,  lest  thou  shouldst  hesitate.  But  amongst  the  innu- 
merable pains  which  thou  wilt  have  to  support,  I  will  tell 
thee  three.  The  first  is  this.  Hitherto  it  is  thou  who  hast 
scourged  thyself,  with  thine  own  hands :  thou  didst  cease  when 
it  seemed  good  to  thee,  and  thou  hadst  compassion  on  thyself. 
Now,  I  would  take  thee  from  thyself,  and  cast  thee  without 
defence  into  the  hands  of  strangers  who  shall  scourge  thee. 
Thou  shalt  see  the  ruin  of  thy  reputation.  Thou  shalt  be 
an  object  of  contempt  to  blinded  men  ;  and  thou  shalt  suffer 
more  from  this  than  from  the  wounds  made  by  the  points 
of  thy  cross.1  When  thou  didst  give  thyself  up  to  thy  penances 
thou  wert  exalted  and  admired.  Now  thou  shalt  be  abased 
and  annihilated.  The  second  pain  is  this :  Although  thou 
didst  inflict  on  thyself  many  cruel  tortures,  still  by  God's 
grace  there  remained  to  thee  a  tender  and  loving  disposition. 
It  shall  befall  thee,  that  there  where  thou  hadst  thought  to 
find  a  special  and  a  faithful  love,  thou  shalt  find  nought  but 
unfaithfulness,  great  sufferings,  and  great  griefs.  Thy  trials 
shall  be  so  many  that  those  men  who  have  any  love  for 
thee  shall  suffer  with  thee  by  compassion.  The  third  pain 
is  this  :  hitherto  thou  hast  been  but  a  child  at  the  breast,  a 
spoiled  child.  Thou  hast  been  immersed  in  the  divine 
sweetness  like  a  fish  in  the  sea.  Now  I  will  withdraw  all 
this.  It  is  my  will  that  thou  shouldst  be  deprived  of  it, 
and  that  thou  suffer  from  this  privation ;  that  thou  shouldst 
be  abandoned  of  God  and  of  man,  that  thou  shouldst  be 
publicly  persecuted  by  the  friends  of  thine  enemies.  I  will 
tell  it  thee  in  a  word :  all  thou  shalt  undertake,  that  might 
bring  thee  joy  and  consolation,  shall  come  to  nothing,  and 
all  that  might  make  thee  suffer  and  be  vexatious  to  thee 
shall  succeed."  2      * 

*  During  the  years  of  purgation  Suso  had  constantly  worn  a  sharp  cross,  the 
points  of  which  pierced  his  flesh. 
3  Leben,  cap.  xxii. 


THE  DARK  NIGHT  OF  THE  SOUL  487 

Observe  here,  under  a  highly  poetic  and  visionary  method 
of  presentation,  the  characteristic  pains  of  the  Dark  Night 
as  described  by  Madame  Guyon,  St.  John  of  the  Cross,  and 
almost  every  expert  who  has  written  upon  this  state  of  con- 
sciousness. Desolation  and  loneliness,  abandonment  by  God 
and  by  man,  a  tendency  of  everything  to  "  go  wrong,"  a 
profusion  of  unsought  trials  and  griefs — all  are  here.  Suso, 
naturally  highly  strung  and  unbalanced,  sensitive  and  poetic, 
suffered  acutely  in  this  mental  chaos  and  multiplication  of 
woes.  He  was  tormented  by  a  deep  and  heavy  depression, 
so  that  "  it  seemed  as  though  a  mountain  weighed  on  his 
heart "  :  by  doubts  against  faith  :  by  temptations  to  despair.1 
These  miseries  lasted  for  about  ten  years.  They  were 
diversified  and  intensified  by  external  trials,  such  as  illnesses 
and  false  accusations ;  and  relieved,  as  the  years  of  purgation 
had  been,  by  occasional  visions  and  revelations. 

Suso's  natural  tendency  was  to  an  enclosed  life :  to  secret 
asceticisms,  dreams,  outbursts  of  fervent  devotion,  long  hours 
of  rapt  communion  with  the  Eternal  Wisdom  whom  he  loved. 
Half  artist,  half  recluse,  utterly  unpractical,  he  had  all  the 
dreamer's  dread  of  the  world  of  men.  His  deeper  mystical  self 
now  ran  counter  to  all  these  preferences.  Like  the  angel 
which  said  to  him  in  the  hour  of  his  utmost  prostration  and 
misery,  "  Viriliter  agite  ! "  2  it  pressed  him  inexorably  towards 
the  more  manly  part ;  pushing  him  to  action,  sending  him 
out  from  his  peaceful  if  uncomfortable  cell  to  the  rough- 
and-tumble  of  the  world.  Poor  Suso  was  little  fitted  by 
nature  for  that  rough-and-tumble :  and  a  large  part  of  his 
autobiography  is  concerned  with  the  description  of  all  that 
he  endured  therein.  The  Dark  Night  for  him  was  emphatically 
an  "  active  night " ;  and  the  more  active  he  was  forced  to  be, 
the  darker  and  more  painful  it  became.  Chapter  after  chapter 
is  filled  with  the  troubles  of  the  unhappy  Servitor ;  who,  once 
he  began  to  meddle  with  practical  life,  soon  disclosed  his 
native  simplicity  and  lost  the  reputation  for  wisdom  and  piety 
which  he  had  obtained  during  his  years  of  seclusion. 

There  was  not  in  Suso  that  high-hearted  gaiety,  that  child- 
like courage,  which  made  the  early  Franciscans  delight  to 
call    themselves    God's    fools.      The  bewildered    lover   of  the 

1  Leben,  cap.  xxiii.  2  Ibid.,  cap.  xxv. 


488  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

Eternal  Wisdom  suffered  acutely  from  his  loss  of  dignity ; 
from  the  unfriendliness  and  contempt  of  his  fellow-men.  He 
gives  a  long  and  dismal  catalogue  of  the  enemies  that  he  made, 
the  slanders  which  he  endured,  in  the  slow  acquirement  of  that 
disinterested  and  knightly  valour  which  had  been  revealed  to 
him  as  the  essential  virtue  of  the  squire  who  would  "  ride 
with  the  Eternal  Wisdom  in  the  lists."1 

Suso  was  a  born  romantic.  This  dream  of  a  spiritual 
chivalry  haunts  him  :  over  and  over  again  he  uses  the  language 
of  the  tournament  in  his  description  of  the  mystic  life.  Yet 
perhaps  few  ideals  seem  less  appropriate  to  this  timid,  highly- 
strung,  impracticable  Dominican  friar :  this  ecstatic  "  minne- 
singer of  the  Holy  Ghost,"  half-poet,  half-metaphysician,  racked 
by  ill-health,  exalted  by  mystical  ardours,  instinctively  fearing 
the  harsh  contact  of  his  fellow-men. 

There  is  no  grim  endurance  about  Suso :  he  feels  every  hard 
knock,  and  all  the  instincts  of  his  nature  are  in  favour  of 
telling  his  griefs.  A  more  human  transcendentalist  has  never 
lived.  Thanks  to  the  candour  and  completeness  with  which 
he  takes  his  readers  into  his  confidence,  we  know  him  far 
more  intimately  than  is  the  case  with  any  of  the  other  great 
contemplatives.  There  is  one  chapter  in  his  life  in  which  he 
describes  with  the  utmost  ingenuousness  how  he  met  a 
magnificent  knight  whilst  crossing  the  Lake  of  Constance; 
and  was  deeply  impressed  by  his  enthusiastic  descriptions  of 
the  glories  and  dangers  of  the  lists.  The  conversation  between 
the  tough  man  at  arms  and  the  hypersensitive  mystic  is  full  of 
revealing  touches.  Suso  is  exalted  and  amazed  by  the  stories 
of  hard  combats,  the  courage  of  the  knights,  and  the  ring 
for  which  they  contend :  but  most  astounded  by  the  fortitude 
which  pays  no  attention  to  its  wounds. 

m "  And   may  not   one   weep,   and   show   that    one   is   hurt, 
when  one  is  hit  very  hard  ? "  he  says. 

The  knight  replies,  "No,  even  though  one's  heart  fails 
as  happens  to  many,  one  must  never  show  that  one  is  dis- 
tressed. One  must  appear  gay  and  happy ;  otherwise  one  is 
dishonoured,  and  loses  at  the  same  time  one's  reputation  and 
the  Ring." 

"  These  words  made  the  Servitor  thoughtful ;    and  he  was 

1     "  Buchlein  von  der  ewigen  Weisheit,"  cap.  ii. 


THE  DARK  NIGHT  OF  THE  SOUL  489 

greatly  moved,  and  inwardly  sighing  he  said,  '  Oh  Lord,  if  the 
knights  of  this  world  must  suffer  so  much  to  obtain  so  small  a 
prize,  how  just  it  is  that  we  should  suffer  far  more  if  we  are  to 
obtain  an  eternal  recompense !  Oh,  my  sweet  Lord,  if  only  I 
were  worthy  of  being  Thy  spiritual  knight ! ' " 

Arrived  at  his  destination,  however,  Suso  was  visited  by 
fresh  trials  :  and  soon  forgetting  his  valiant  declarations,  he  began 
as  usual  to  complain  of  his  griefs.  The  result  was  a  visionary 
ecstasy,  in  which  he  heard  that  voice  of  his  deeper  self,  to  which 
he  always  attributed  a  divine  validity,  inquiring  with  ill-con- 
cealed irony,  "  Well,  what  has  become  of  that  noble  chivalry  ? 
Who  is  this  knight  of  straw,  this  rag-made  man  ?  It  is  not  by 
making  rash  promises  and  drawing  back  when  suffering  arrives, 
that  the  Ring  of  Eternity  which  you  desire  is  won." 

"  Alas !  Lord,"  says  Suso  plaintively,  "  the  tournaments  in 
which  one  must  suffer  for  Thee  last  such  a  very  long  time  ! n 

The  voice  replied  to  him,  "  But  the  reward,  the  honour,  and 
the  Ring  which  I  give  to  My  knights  endures  eternally."  ' 

*  As  his  mystic  consciousness  grows,  this  instinct  pressing 
him  towards  action  and  endurance  grows  with  it.  The  inner 
voice  and  its  visionary  expression  urges  him  on  remorselessly. 
It  mocks  his  weakness,  encourages  him  to  more  active  suffering, 
more  complete  self-renunciation  :  more  contact  with  the  un- 
friendly world.  Viriliter  agite !  He  is  to  be  a  complete 
personality  ;  a  whole  man.  Instead  of  the  quiet  cell,  the  secret 
mortifications,  his  selfhood  is  to  be  stripped  from  him,  and  the 
reality  of  his  renunciation  tested,  under  the  unsympathetic  and 
often  inimical  gaze  of  other  men.  The  case  of  Suso  is  one  that 
may  well  give  pause  to  those  who  regard  the  mystic  life  as  a 
progress  in  passivity,  a  denial  of  the  world  :  and  the  "  Dark 
Night"  as  one  of  its  most  morbid  manifestations. 

1  Leben,  cap.  xlvii.  So  Ruysbroeck,  "  The  gold  Ring  of  our  Covenant  is  greater 
than  Heaven  or  Earth  "  ("De  Contemplatione  ").  Compare  Vaughan  the  Silurist 
("The  World"). 

"I  saw  Eternity  the  other  night, 
Like  a  great  Ring  of  pure  and  endless  light, 
All  calm  as  it  was  bright ; 
•  •  •  •  • 

One  whispered  thus : 
'This  Ring  the  Bridegroom  did  for  none  provide 
But  for  His  Bride."' 


490  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

It  is  interesting  to  observe  how  completely  human  and 
apparently  "  unmystical  "  was  the  culminating  trial  by  which 
Suso  was  "  perfected  in  the  school  of  true  resignation."  "  None 
can  come  to  the  sublime  heights  of  the  divinity,"  said  the 
Eternal  Wisdom  to  him  in  one  of  his  visions,  "or  taste  its 
ineffable  sweetness,  if  first  they  have  not  experienced  the  bitter- 
ness and  lowliness  of  My  humanity.  The  higher  they  climb 
without  passing  by  My  humanity,  the  lower  afterward  shall  be 
their  fall.  My  humanity  is  the  road  which  all  must  tread  who 
would  come  to  that  which  thou  seekest :  My  sufferings  are  the 
door  by  which  all  must  come  in." J  It  was  by  the  path  of 
humanity  ;  by  some  of  the  darkest  and  most  bitter  trials  of 
human  experience,  the  hardest  tests  of  its  patience  and  love, 
that  Suso  "  came  in  "  to  that  sustained  peace  of  heart  and  union 
with  the  divine  will  which  marked  his  last  state.  The  whole 
tendency  of  these  trials  in  the  "  path  of  humanity  "  seems,  as 
we  look  at  them,  to  be  directed  towards  the  awakening  of  those 
elements  of  character  left  dormant  by  the  rather  specialized 
disciplines  and  purifications  of  his  cloistered  life.  We  seem  to 
see  the  •  new  man  "  invading  all  the  resistant  or  inactive  corners 
of  personality  :  the  Servitor  of  Wisdom  being  pressed  against 
his  will  to  a  deeply  and  widely  human  life  in  the  interests  of 
Eternal  Love.  The  absence  of  God  whom  he  loved,  the  enmity 
of  man  whom  he  feared,  were  the  chief  forces  brought  to  play 
upon  him :  and  we  watch  his  slow  growth,  under  their  tonic 
influence,  in  courage,  humility,  and  love  of  his  fellow-men. 

Few  chapters  in  the  history  of  the  mystics  are  more  touch- 
ing than  that  passage  in  Suso's  Life  2  "  Where  we  speak  of  an 
extraordinary  Trial  which  the  Servitor  had  to  bear."  It  tells 
how  a  malicious  woman  accused  him  of  being  the  father  of  her 
child,  and  succeeded  for  the  time  in  entirely  destroying  his 
reputation.  "And  the  scandal  was  all  the  greater,"  says  the 
Servitor  with  his  customary  simplicity,  "  because  the  rumour  of 
that  brother's  sanctity  had  spread  so  far."  Poor  Suso  was  utterly 
crushed  by  this  calumny,  "  wounded  to  the  depths  of  his  heart." 
"  Lord,  Lord ! "  he  cried,  "  every  day  of  my  life  I  have 
worshipped  Thy  holy  Name  in  many  places,  and  have  helped 
to  cause  it  to  be  loved  and  honoured  by  many  men :  and  now 
Thou  wouldst  drag  my  name  through  the  mud  ! "     When  the 

1  "  Buchlein  von  der  ewigen  Weisheit,"  cap.  ii.  2  Cap.  xl. 


THE  DARK  NIGHT  OF  THE  SOUL  491 

scandal  was  at  its  height,  a  woman  of  the  neighbourhood  came 
to  him  in  secret  ;  and  offered  to  destroy  the  child  which  was 
the  cause  of  this  gossip,  in  order  that  the  tale  might  be  more 
quickly  forgotten,  and  his  reputation  restored.  She  said  further, 
that  unless  the  baby  were  somehow  disposed  of,  he  would 
certainly  be  forced  by  public  opinion  to  accept  it,  and  provide 
for  its  upbringing.  Suso,  writhing  as  he  was  under  the  con- 
tempt of  the  whole  neighbourhood,  the  apparent  ruin  of  his 
career — knowing,  too,  that  this  calumny  of  one  of  their  leaders 
must  gravely  injure  the  reputation  of  the  Friends  of  God — was 
able  to  meet  the  temptation  with  a  noble  expression  of  trust. 
"  I  have  confidence  in  the  God  of  Heaven,  Who  is  rich,  and  Who 
has  given  me  until  now  all  that  which  was  needful  unto  me. 
He  will  help  me  to  keep,  if  need  be,  another  beside  myself." 
And  then  he  said  to  his  temptress,  "  Go,  fetch  the  little  child 
that  I  may  see  it." 

"  And  when  he  had  the  baby,  he  put  it  on  his  knees  and 
looked  at  it :  and  the  baby  began  to  smile  at  him.  And  sigh- 
ing deeply,  he  said,  '  Could  I  kill  a  pretty  baby  that  smiled  at 
me  ?  No,  no,  1  had  rather  suffer  every  trial  that  could  come 
upon  me  ! '  And  turning  his  face  to  the  unfortunate  little  crea- 
ture, he  said  to  it,  ■  Oh  my  poor,  poor  little  one  !  Thou  art  but 
an  unhappy  orphan,  for  thy  unnatural  father  hath  denied  thee, 
thy  wicked  mother  would  cast  thee  off,  as  one  casts  off  a  little 
dog  that  has  ceased  to  please !  The  providence  of  God  hath 
given  thee  to  me,  in  order  that  I  may  be  thy  father.  I  will  accept 
thee,  then,  from  Him  and  from  none  else.  Ah,  dear  child  of 
my  heart,  thou  liest  on  my  knees  ;  thou  dost  gaze  at  me,  thou 
canst  not  yet  speak !  As  for  me,  I  contemplate  thee  with  a 
broken  heart ;  with  weeping  eyes,  and  lips  that  kiss,  I  bedew 
thy  little  face  with  my  burning  tears !  .  .  .  Thou  shalt  be  my 
son,  and  the  child  of  the  good  God  ;  and  as  long  as  heaven 
gives  me  a  mouthful,  I  shall  share  it  with  thee,  for  the  greater 
glory  of  God  ;  and  will  patiently  support  all  the  trials  that  may 
come  to  me,  my  darling  son  ! ' "  How  different  is  this  from  the 
early  Suso  ;  interested  in  little  but  his  own  safe  spirituality,  and 
with  more  than  a  touch  of  the  religious  aesthete ! 

The  story  goes  on  :  "  And  when  the  hard-hearted  woman 
who  had  wished  to  kill  the  little  one  saw  these  tears,  when  she 
heard  these  tender  words,  she  was  greatly  moved  :    and   her 


492  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

heart  was  filled  with  pity,  and  she  too  began  to  weep  and  cry 
aloud.  The  Servitor  was  obliged  to  calm  her,  for  fear  that, 
attracted  by  the  noise,  some  one  should  come  and  see  what  was 
going  on.  And  when  she  had  finished  weeping  the  Brother 
gave  her  back  the  baby,  and  blessed  it,  and  said  to  it, '  Now 
may  God  in  His  goodness  bless  thee,  and  may  the  saints 
protect  thee  against  all  evil  that  may  be  ! '  And  he  enjoined 
the  woman  to  care  for  it  well  at  his  expense." 

Small  wonder  that  after  this  heroic  act  of  charity  Suso's 
reputation  went  from  bad  to  worse  ;  that  even  his  dearest 
friends  forsook  him,  and  he  narrowly  escaped  expulsion  from 
the  religious  life.  His  torments  and  miseries,  his  fears  for  the 
future,  continued  to  grow  until  they  at  last  came  to  their  term 
in  a  sort  of  mental  crisis.  "  His  feeble  nature  broken  by  the 
pains  which  he  had  to  endure,  he  went  forth  raving  like  one  who 
has  lost  his  senses  ;  and  hid  himself  in  a  place  far  from  men, 
where  none  could  see  or  hear  him  .  .  .  and  whilst  he  suffered 
thus,  several  times  something  which  came  from  God  said  within 
his  soul,  #  Where  then  is  your  resignation  ?  Where  is  that 
equal  humour  in  joy  and  in  tribulation  which  you  have  so 
lightly  taught  other  men  to  love  ?  In  what  manner  is  it,  then, 
that  one  should  rest  in  God  and  have  confidence  only  in  Him  ? ' 
He  replied  weeping,  '  You  ask  where  is  my  resignation  ?  But 
tell  me  first,  where  is  the  infinite  pity  of  God  for  His  friends  ? 
.  .  .  Oh  Fathomless  Abyss  !  come  to  my  help,  for  without 
Thee  I  am  lost.  Thou  knowest  that  Thou  art  my  only  conso- 
lation, that  all  my  trust  is  only  in  Thee.  Oh  hear  me,  for  the 
love  of  God,  all  you  whose  hearts  are  wounded  !  Behold  !  let 
none  be  scandalized  by  my  insane  behaviour.  So  long  as  it 
was  only  a  question  of  preaching  resignation,  that  was  easy  : 
but  now  that  my  heart  is  pierced,  now  that  I  am  wounded  to 
the  marrow  .  .  .  how  can  I  be  resigned  ? '  And  after  thus 
suffering  half  a  day,  his  brain  was  exhausted,  and  at  last  he 
became  calmer,  and  sitting  down  he  came  to  himself  :  and 
turning  to  God,  and  abandoning  himself  to  His  Will,  he  said 
( If  it  cannot  be  otherwise,  fiat  voluntas  tua!  "  J  The  act  of  sub- 
mission was  at  once  followed  by  an  ecstasy  and  vision,  in  which 
the  approaching  end  of  his  troubles  was  announced  to  him. 
"  And  in  the  event,  God  came  to  the  help  of  the  Servitor,  and 
little  by  little  that  terrible  tempest  died  away." 

*  Op,  cit.i  loc,  tit. 


THE   DARK  NIGHT  OF  THE  SOUL  493 

Thus  with  Suso,  as  with  St.  Catherine  of  Siena  and  other 
mystics  whom  we  have  considered,  the  travail  of  the  Dark 
Night  is  all  directed  towards  the  essential  mystic  act  of  utter 
self-surrender  ;  that  fiat  voluntas  tita  which  marks  the  death 
of  selfhood  in  the  interests  of  a  new  and  deeper  life.  He  has 
learned  the  lesson  of  u  the  school  of  true  resignation  "  :  has 
moved  to  a  new  stage  of  reality.  His  last  state,  allowing  for 
temperamental  differences,  is  in  essence  the  same  as  Madame 
Guyon's  "  holy  indifference "  :  a  complete  self-naughting,  an 
utter  acquiescence  in  the  large  and  hidden  purposes  of  the 
Divine  Will. 

"Anzi  e  formale  ad  esto  beato  esse 

tenersi  dentro  alia  divina  voglia 

per  ch'  una  fansi  nostre  voglie  stesse,"1 

says  Piccarda,  announcing  the  primary  law  of  Paradise.  Suso 
has  passed  through  the  fire  to  the  state  in  which  he  too  can  say, 
"La  sua  voluntate  e  nostra  pace"  The  old  grouping  of  his 
consciousness  round  "spiritual  self"  has  come  to  its  head  and  at 
last  broken  down.  In  the  midst  of  a  psychic  storm  parallel  to 
the  upheavals  of  conversion,  "  mercenary  love  "  is  for  ever  dis- 
established, the  new  state  of  Pure  Love  is  abruptly  established 
in  its  place.  Human  pain  is  the  price  :  the  infinite  joy  peculiar 
to  "  free  souls  "  is  the  reward.  We  may  study  the  pain,  but  the 
nature  of  the  joy  is  beyond  us  :  as,  in  the  Absolute  Type  of  all 
mystic  achievement,  we  see  the  Cross  clearly  but  can  hardly 
guess  at  the  true  nature  of  the  resurrection  life. 

Hence  Suso's  description  of  his  establishment  in  the  Unitive 
Way  seems  meagre,  an  anti-climax,  after  all  that  went  before. 
"  And  later,"  he  says  simply,  "  when  God  judged  that  it  was 
time,  He  rewarded  the  poor  martyr  for  all  his  suffering.  And 
he  enjoyed  peace  of  heart,  and  received  in  tranquillity  and  quiet- 
ness many  precious  graces.  And  he  praised  the  Lord  from  the 
very  depths  of  his  soul,  and  thanked  Him  for  those  same  suffer- 
ings :  which,  for  all  the  world,  he  would  not  now  have  been 
spared.  And  God  caused  him  to  understand  that  by  this 
complete  abasement  he  had  gained  more,  and  was  made  the 
more  worthy  to  be  raised  up  to  God,  than  by  all  the  pains 
which  he  had  suffered  from  his  youth  up  to  that  time."  2 

1  Par.  iii.  79.  "  Nay,  it  is  essential  to  this  blessed  being,  to  hold  ourselves  within 
the  Will  Divine  wherewith  our  own  wills  are  themselves  made  one." 
3  Loc.  cit. 


CHAPTER   X 

THE   UNITIVE   LIFE 

What  is  the  Unitive  Life  ? — Only  the  Mystics  know — It  is  a  state  of  transcendent 
vitality — Its  importance  for  the  race — The  Mystics  describe  it  under  two  forms : 
metaphysical  and  personal — Deification  and  Spiritual  Marriage — Self-surrender — 
Freedom — Heroic  activity — The  psychological  explanation — Delacroix  and  Eucken — 
Unification  of  personality  on  high  levels — The  Mystic's  explanation — Immersion  in 
God — Transmutation — The  doctrine  of  Deification — in  philosophy — in  religion — Its 
justification — It  is  not  identification  with  God — it  is  the  achievement  of  reality— Fire 
symbolism — Boehme — Richard  of  St  Victor — St.  Catherine— Ruysbroeck — The 
Beatific  Vision — Suso — Self-loss — The  union  of  love — Jelalu  'd  Din — The  divine 
companionship — The  Epistle  of  Prayer — Spiritual  Marriage — Divine  Fecundity 
— Enhanced  vitality — St.  Teresa — The  "great  actives" — Madame  Guyon — The 
Mystics  as  parents  of  new  spiritual  life — The  dual  character  of  the  Unitive  Life — 
Being  and  Becoming — Fruition  and  work — Ruysbroeck  the  supreme  demonstrator  of 
this  law — Its  exhibition  in  the  lives  of  the  Mystics — The  Unitive  Life  satisfies  the 
three  aspects  of  the  Self— Knowledge,  Will,  Love — Mystic  joy — an  implicit  of  the 
deified  life— Dante— Rolle— the  Song  of  Love— St.  Francis— St.  Teresa— St. 
Catherine  of  Genoa — Conclusion 

WHAT  is  the  Unitive  Life  ?  We  have  referred  to  it 
often  enough  in  the  course  of  this  inquiry.  At  last 
we  are  face  to  face  with  the  necessity  of  defining  its 
nature  if  we  can.  Since  the  normal  man  knows  little  about  his 
own  true  personality,  and  nothing  at  all  about  that  of  Deity, 
the  orthodox  description  of  it  as  "  the  life  in  which  man's  will 
is  united  with  God,"  does  but  echo  the  question  in  an  ampler 
form  ;  and  conveys  no  real  meaning  to  the  student's  mind. 
That  we  should  know,  by  instinct,  its  character  from  within — 
as  we  know,  if  we  cannot  express,  the  character  of  our  own 
normally  human  lives — is  of  course  impossible.  We  deal  her 
with  the  final  triumph  of  the  spirit,  the  flower  of  mysticism 
humanity's  top  note  :  the  consummation  towards  which  the 
contemplative  life,  with  its  long  slow  growth  and  psychic 
storms,  has  moved  from   the  first.     We  look  at  a  small  but 

494 


1 

: 


THE   UNITIVE  LIFE  495 

ever-growing  group  of  heroic  figures,  living  at  transcendent 
levels  of  reality  which  we,  immersed  in  the  poor  life  of  illusion, 
cannot  attain  :  breathing  an  atmosphere  whose  true  quality  we 
cannot  even  conceive.  Here,  then,  as  at  so  many  other  points 
in  our  study  of  the  spiritual  consciousness,  we  must  rely  for  the 
greater  part  of  our  knowledge  upon  the  direct  testimony  of  the 
mystics  ;  who  alone  can  tell  the  character  of  that  "  more  abun- 
dant life  "  which  they  enjoy. 

Yet  we  are  not  wholly  dependent  on  this  source  of  infor- 
mation. It  is  the  peculiarity  of  the  Unitive  Life  that  it  is  often 
lived,  in  its  highest  and  most  perfect  forms,  in  the  world ;  and 
exhibits  its  works  before  the  eyes  of  men.  As  the  law  of  our 
bodies  is  "  earth  to  earth  "  so,  strangely  enough,  is  the  law  of 
our  souls.  Man,  having  at  last  come  to  full  consciousness  of 
reality,  completes  the  circle  of  Being ;  and  returns  to  fertilize 
those  levels  of  existence  from  which  he  sprang.  Hence,  the 
enemies  of  mysticism,  who  have  easily  drawn  a  congenial  moral 
from  the  "  morbid  and  solitary  "  lives  of  contemplatives  in  the 
earlier  and  educative  stages  of  the  Mystic  Way,  are  here  con- 
fronted very  often  by  the  disagreeable  spectacle  of  the  mystic 
as  a  pioneer  of  humanity,  a  sharply  intuitive  and  painfully 
practical  person :  an  artist,  a  discoverer,  a  religious  or  social 
reformer,  a  national  hero,  a  "  great  active  "  amongst  the  saints. 
By  the  superhuman  nature  of  that  which  these  persons  accom- 
plish, we  can  gauge  something  of  the  supernormal  vitality  of 
which  they  partake.  The  things  done,  the  victories  gained 
over  circumstance  by  the  Blessed  Joan  of  Arc  or  by  St.  Bernard, 
by  St.  Catherine  of  Siena,  St.  Ignatius  Loyola,  St.  Teresa, 
George  Fox,  are  hardly  to  be  explained  unless  these  great 
spirits  had  indeed  a  closer,  more  intimate,  more  bracing  contact 
than  their  fellows  with  that  Life  "  which  is  the  light  of  men." 

We  have,  then,  these  two  lines  of  investigation  open  to  us  : 
first,  the  comparison  and  elucidation  of  that  which  the  mystics 
tell  us  concerning  their  transcendent  experience,  secondly,  the 
testimony  which  is  borne  by  their  lives  to  the  existence  within 
them  of  supernal  springs  of  action,  contact  set  up  with  deep 
levels  of  vital  power.  In  the  third  place,  we  have  also  such 
critical  machinery  as  psychology  has  placed  at  our  disposal  ; 
but  this,  in  dealing  with  these  giants  of  the  spirit,  must  be  used 
with  caution  and  humility. 


496  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

The  Unitive  Life,  though  so  often  lived  in  the  world,  is 
never  of  it.  It  belongs  to  another  plane  of  being,  moves 
securely  upon  levels  unrelated  to  our  speech  ;  and  hence  eludes 
the  measuring  powers  of  humanity.  We,  from  the  valley,  can 
only  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  true  life  of  these  elect  spirits, 
transfigured  upon  the  mountain.  They  are  far  away,  breathing 
another  air  :  we  cannot  reach  them.  Yet  it  is  impossible  to 
over-estimate  their  importance  for  the  race.  They  are  our 
ambassadors  to  the  Absolute.  They  vindicate  humanity's 
claim  to  the  possible  and  permanent  attainment  of  Reality ; 
bear  witness  to  the  practical  qualities  of  the  transcendental 
life.  In  Eucken's  words,  they  testify  to  "the  advent  of  a 
triumphing  Spiritual  Power,  as  distinguished  from  a  spirituality 
which  merely  lays  the  foundations  of  life  or  struggles  to  main- 
tain them  "  :  x  to  the  actually  life-enhancing  power  of  the  Love 
of  God,  once  the  human  soul  is  freely  opened  to  receive  it. 

Coming  first  to  the  evidence  of  the  mystics  themselves,  we 
find  that  in  their  attempts  towards  describing  the  Unitive 
Life  they  have  recourse  to  two  main  forms  of  symbolic 
expression :  both  very  dangerous,  very  liable  to  be  misunder- 
stood :  both  offering  ample  opportunity  for  harsh  criticism  to 
hostile  investigators  of  the  mystic  type.  We  find  also,  as  we 
might  expect  from  our  previous  encounters  with  the  symbols 
used  by  contemplatives  and  ecstatics,  that  these  two  forms  of 
expression  belong  respectively  to  mystics  of  the  transcendent- 
metaphysical  and  of  the  intimate-personal  type :  and  that  their 
formulae,  if  taken  alone,  appear  to  contradict  one  another. 

(i)  The  metaphysical  mystic,  for  whom  the  Absolute  is 
impersonal  and  transcendent,  describes  his  final  attainment  of 
that  Absolute  as  deification,  or  the  utter  transmutation  of  the 
self  in  God.  (2)  The  mystic  for  whom  intimate  and  personal 
communion  has  been  the  mode  under  which  he  best  appre- 
hended Reality,  speaks  of  the  consummation  of  this  com- 
munion, its  perfect  and  permanent  form,  as  the  Spiritual 
Marriage  of  his  soul  with  God.  Obviously,  both  these  terms 
are  but  the  self's  guesses  concerning  the  intrinsic  character 
of  a  state  which  it  has  felt  in  its  wholeness  rather  than 
analyzed :  and  bear  the  same  relation  to  the  ineffable  realities 
of  that   state,   as   our   clever  theories    concerning   the    nature 

Der  Sinn  und  Wert  des  Lebens,"  p.  140. 


t  <« 


THE  UNITIVE  LIFE  497 

and  meaning  of  life  bear  to  the  vital  processes  of  men.  It 
is  worth  while  to  examine  them ;  but  we  shall  not  understand 
them  till  we  have  also  examined  the  life  which  they  profess 
to  explain. 

The  language  of  "  deification  "  and  of  "  spiritual  marriage," 
then,  is  temperamental  language :  and  is  related  to  subjective 
experience  rather  than  to  objective  fact.  It  describes  on  the  one 
hand  the  mystic's  sudden,  astonished  awareness  of  a  profound 
change  effected  in  his  own  personality1 — the  transmutation 
of  his  salt,  sulphur,  and  mercury  into  Spiritual  Gold — on  the 
other,  the  rapturous  consummation  of  his  love.  Hence  by  a 
comparison  of  these  symbolic  reconstructions,  by  the  discovery 
and  isolation  of  the  common  factor  latent  in  each,  we  may 
perhaps  learn  something  of  the  fundamental  fact  which  each 
is  trying  to  portray. 

Again,  the  mystics  describe  certain  symptoms  either  as 
the  necessary  preliminaries  or  as  the  marks  and  fruits 
of  the  Unitive  State  :  and  these  too  may  help  us  to  fix  its 
character. 

The  chief,  in  fact  the  one  essential,  preliminary  is  that 
pure  surrender  of  selfhood,  or  "  self-naughting,"  which  the 
trials  of  the  Dark  Night  tended  to  produce.  Only  the 
thoroughly  detached,  "  naughted  soul "  is  "  free,"  says  the 
"  Mirror  of  Simple  Souls,"  and  the  Unitive  State  is  essentially 
a  state  of  free  and  filial  participation  in  Eternal  Life.  The 
chief  marks  of  the  state  itself  are  (i)  a  complete  absorption  in 
the  interests  of  the  Infinite,  under  whatever  mode  It  happens 
to  be  apprehended  by  the  self,  (2)  a  consciousness  of  sharing 
Its  strength,  acting  by  Its  authority,  which  results  in  a  complete 
sense  of  freedom,  an  invulnerable  serenity,  and  usually  urges 
the  self  to  some  form  of  heroic  effort  or  creative  activity : 
(3)  the  establishment  of  the  self  as  a  "  power  for  life,"  a 
centre  of  energy,  an  actual  parent  of  spiritual  vitality  in  other 

1  Compare  Dante's  sense  of  a  transmuted  personality  when  he  first  breathed  the  air 
of  Paradise : — 

•'  S'  io  era  sol  di  me  quel  che  creasti 

novellamente,  Amor  che  il  ciel  governi 

tu  il  sai,  che  col  tuo  lume  mi  levasti "  (Par.  i.  73). 

«« If  I  were  only  that  of  me  which  thou  didst  new  create,  oh  Love  who  rulest 
heaven,  thou  knowest  who  with  thy  light  didst  lift  me  up." 
KK 


498  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

men.  By  collecting  together  these  symptoms  and  examining 
them,  and  the  lives  of  those  who  exhibit  them,  in  the  light 
of  psychology,  we  can  surely  get  some  news — however  fragmen- 
tary— concerning  the  transcendent  condition  of  being  which 
involves  these  characteristic  states  and  acts.  Beyond  this  even 
Dante  himself  could  not  go  : — 

'  Trasumanar  significar  per  verba 
non  si  poria."  x 

We  will  then  consider  the  Unitive  Life  (i)  As  it  appears 
from  the  standpoint  of  the  psychologist.  (2)  As  it  is  described 
to  us  by  those  mystics  who  use  (a)  the  language  of  Deification, 
(b)  that  of  Spiritual  Marriage.  (3)  Finally,  we  will  turn  to 
the  lives  of  its  initiates ;  and  try,  if  we  can,  to  perceive  it  as 
an  organic  whole. 

(1)  From  the  point  of  view  of  the  pure  psychologist,  what 
do  the  varied  phenomena  of  the  Unitive  Life,  taken  together, 
seem  to  represent  ?  He  would  probably  say  that  they  indicate 
the  final  and  successful  establishment  of  that  higher  form  of 
consciousness  which  has  been  struggling  for  supremacy  during 
the  whole  of  the  Mystic  Way.  The  deepest,  richest  levels  of 
human  personality  have  now  attained  to  light  and  freedom. 
The  self  is  remade,  transformed,  has  at  last  unified  itself; 
and  with  the  cessation  of  stress,  power  has  been  liberated  for 
new  purposes. 

"  The  beginning  of  the  mystic  life,"  says  Delacroix,  "  intro- 
duced into  the  personal  life  of  the  subject  a  group  of  states 
which  are  distinguished  by  certain  characteristics,  and  which 
form,  so  to  speak,  a  special  psychological  system.  At  its 
term,  it  has,  as  it  were,  suppressed  the  ordinary  self,  and  by 
the  development  of  this  system  has  established  a  new 
personality,  with  a  new  method  of  feeling  and  of  action. 
Its  growth  results  in  the  transformation  of  personality : 
it  abolishes  the  primitive  consciousness  of  selfhood,  and 
substitutes  for  it  a  wider  consciousness:  the  total  dis- 
appearance of  selfhood  in  the  divine,  the  substitution  of  a 
Divine  Self  for  the  primitive  self."2  If  he  be  a  psychological 
philosopher  of  Eucken's  school,  the  psychologist  will  say  further 

1  Par.  I.  70.  2  Delacroix,  "Etudes  sur  le  Mysticisme,"  p.  197. 


THE  UNITIVE  LIFE  499 

that  man,  in  this  Unitive  State,  by  this  substitution  of  the 
divine  for  the  "  primitive  "  self,  has  at  last  risen  to  true  freedom, 
"  entered  on  the  fruition  of  reality." J  Hence  he  has  opened 
up  new  paths  for  the  inflow  of  that  Triumphing  Power  which 
is  the  very  substance  of  the  Real ;  has  wholly  remade  his 
consciousness,  and  in  virtue  of  this  total  regeneration  is 
"transplanted  into  that  Universal  Life,  which  is  yet  not 
alien  but  our  own."  2  From  contact  set  up  with  this  Universal 
Life,  this  "  Energetic  Word  of  God,  which  nothing  can 
contain" — from  those  deep  levels  of  Being  to  which  his 
shifting,  growing  personality  is  fully  adapted  at  last — he 
draws  that  amazing  strength,  that  immovable  peace,  that 
power  of  dealing  with  circumstance,  which  is  one  of  the  most 
marked  characteristics  of  the  Unitive  Life.  "That  secret 
and  permanent  personality  of  a  superior  type" 3  which  gave 
to  the  surface-self  constant  and  ever  more  insistent  intimations 
of  its  existence  at  every  stage  of  the  mystic's  growth — his 
real,  eternal  self — has  now  consciously  realized  its  destiny :  and 
begins  at  last  fully  to  be.  In  the  travail  of  the  Dark  Night 
it  has  conquered  and  invaded  the  last  recalcitrant  elements 
of  character.  It  is  no  more  limited  to  acts  of  profound 
perception,  overpowering  intuitions  of  the  Absolute :  no  more 
dependent  for  its  emergence  on  the  psychic  states  of  contem- 
plation and  ecstasy.  The  mystic  has  at  last  resolved  the 
Stevensonian  paradox  ;  and  is  not  truly  two,  but  truly  one. 

(2)  The  mystic,  I  think,  would  acquiesce  in  these  descrip- 
tions, so  far  as  they  go:  but  he  would  probably  translate 
them  into  his  own  words  and  gloss  them  with  an  explanation 
which  is  beyond  the  power  and  province  of  psychology.  He 
would  say  that  his  long-sought  correspondence  with  Tran- 
scendental Reality,  his  union  with  God,  has  now  been  finally 
established  :  that  his  self,  though  intact,  is  wholly  penetrated — 
as  a  sponge  by  the  sea — by  the  Ocean  of  Life  and  Love  to 
which  he  has  attained.  "  I  live,  yet  not  I  but  God  in  me."  He 
is  conscious  that  he  is  now  at  length  cleansed  of  the  last  stains 
of  separation,  and  has  become,  in  a  mysterious  manner,  "  that 
which  he  beholds." 

1  w  Der  Sinn  und  Wert  des  Lebens,"  p.  12. 

*  Ibid.,  p.  96. 

3  Delacroix,  op.  cit.,  p.  114  tyide  supra,  p.  327). 


500  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

In  the  words  of  the  Sufi  poet,  the  mystic  journey  is  now 
prosecuted  not  only  to  God  but  in  God.  He  has  entered  the 
Eternal  Order ;  attained  here  and  now  the  state  to  which  the 
Magnet  of  the  Universe  draws  every  living  thing.  Moving 
through  periods  of  alternate  joy  and  anguish,  as  his  spiritual 
self  woke,  stretched,  and  was  tested  in  the  complementary  fires 
of  love  and  pain,  he  was  inwardly  conscious  that  he  moved 
towards  a  definite  objective.  In  so  far  as  he  was  a  great  mystic, 
he  was  also  conscious  that  this  objective  was  no  mere  act  of 
knowing,  however  intense,  exultant,  and  sublime,  but  a  con- 
dition of  being,  fulfilment  of  that  love  which  impelled  him, 
steadily  and  inexorably,  to  his  own  place.  In  the  image  of  the 
alchemists,  the  Fire  of  Love  has  done  its  work  :  the  mystic 
Mercury  of  the  Wise — that  little  hidden  treasure,  that  scrap  of 
Reality  within  him — has  utterly  transmuted  the  salt  and  sul- 
phur of  his  mind  and  his  sense.  Even  the  white  stone  of  illumi- 
nation, once  so  dearly  cherished,  he  has  resigned  to  the  crucible. 
Now,  the  great  work  is  accomplished,  the  last  imperfection  is 
gone,  and  he  finds  within  himself  the  "  Noble  Tincture  " — the 
gold  of  spiritual  humanity. 

(A)  We  have  said  that  the  mystic  of  the  impersonal  type — 
the  seeker  of  a  Transcendent  Absolute — tends  to  describe  the 
consummation  of  his  quest  in  the  language  of  deification. 

The  Unitive  Life  necessarily  means  for  him,  as  for  all  who 
attain  it,  something  which  infinitely  transcends  the  sum  total 
of  its  symptoms  :  something  which  normal  men  cannot  hope  to 
understand.  In  it  he  declares  that  he  "partakes  directly  of 
the  Divine  Nature,"  enjoys  the  fruition  of  reality.  Since  we 
"  only  behold  that  which  we  are,"  the  doctrine  of  deification 
results  naturally  and  logically  from  this  claim. 

"Some  may  ask,"  says  the  author  of  the  "Theologia 
Germanica,"  "  what  is  it  to  be  a  partaker  of  the  Divine  Nature, 
or  a  Godlike  \yergottet,  literally  deified]  man  ?  Answer  :  he  who 
is  imbued  with  or  illuminated  by  the  Eternal  or  Divine  Light 
and  inflamed  or  consumed  with  Eternal  or  Divine  Love,  he  is  a 
deified  man  and  a  partaker  of  the  Divine  Nature." x 

Such  a  word  as  "  deification "  is  not,  of  course,  a  scientific 
term.  It  is  a  metaphor,  an  artistic  expression  which  tries  to 
hint  at  a  transcendent  fact  utterly  beyond  the  powers  of  human 

1  "Theologia  Germanica,"  cap.  xli. 


THE   UNITIVE   LIFE  501 

understanding,  and  therefore  without  equivalent  in  human 
speech :  that  fact  of  which  Dante  perceived  the  "  shadowy 
preface  "  when  he  saw  the  saints  as  petals  of  the  Sempiternal 
Rose.1  Since  we  know  not  the  being  of  God,  the  mere 
statement  that  a  soul  is  transformed  in  Him  may  convey  to 
us  an  ecstatic  suggestion,  but  will  never  give  exact  informa- 
tion :  except  of  course  to  those  rare  selves  who  have  experi- 
enced these  supernal  states.  Such  selves,  however — or  a  large 
proportion  of  them — accept  this  statement  as  approximately 
true.  Whilst  the  more  clear-sighted  amongst  them  are  careful 
to  qualify  it  in  a  sense  which  excludes  pantheistic  interpre- 
tations, and  rebuts  the  accusation  that  extreme  mystics  preach 
the  annihilation  of  the  self  and  regard  themselves  as  co-equal 
with  the  Deity,  they  leave  us  in  no  doubt  that  it  answers  to 
a  definite  and  normal  experience  of  many  souls  who  attain 
high  levels  of  spiritual  vitality.  Its  terms  are  chiefly  used  by 
those  mystics  by  whom  Reality  is  apprehended  as  a  state  or  place 
rather  than  a  Person  : 2  and  who  have  adopted,  in  describing 
the  earlier  stages  of  their  journey  to  God,  such  symbols  as 
those  of  rebirth  or  transmutation. 

The  blunt  and  positive  language  of  these  contemplatives 
concerning  deification  has  aroused  more  enmity  amongst  the 
unmystical  than  any  other  of  their  doctrines  or  practices.  It 
is  of  course  easy,  by  confining  oneself  to  its  surface  sense,  to 
call  such  language  blasphemous :  and  the  temptation  to  do 
so  has  seldom  been  resisted.  Yet,  rightly  understood,  this  doc- 
trine lies  at  the  heart,  not  only  of  all  mysticism,  but  also  of 
much  philosophy  and  most  religion.  It  pushes  their  first  prin- 
ciples to  a  logical  end.  "  The  wonder  of  wonders,"  says  Eucken, 
whom  no  one  can  accuse  of  a  conscious  leaning  towards  mystic 
doctrine,  "  is  the  human  made  divine."  3  Christian  mysticism, 
says  Delacroix  with  justice,  springs  from  "that  spontaneous  and 
half-savage  longing  for  deification  which  all  religion  contains."  4 
Eastern  Christianity  has  always  accepted  it  and  expressed  it  in 
her  rites.     "  The  Body  of  God  deifies  me  and  feeds  me,"  says 

1  Par.  xxx.  1 15-130  and  xxxi.  1-12. 

3  Compare  p.  153. 

3  "  Der  Wahrheitsgehalt  der  Religion,"  p.  433. 

4  Op.  cit.,  ix.  But  it  is  difficult  to  see  why  we  need  stigmatize  as  "half- 
savage  "  man's  primordial  instinct  for  his  destiny. 


502  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

Simeon  Metaphrastes,  "  it  deifies  my  spirit  and  it  feeds  my  soul 
in  an  incomprehensible  manner."  1 

The  Christian  mystics  justify  this  dogma  of  the  deifying  of 
man,  by  exhibiting  it  as  the  necessary  corollary  of  the  Incar- 
nation— the  humanizing  of  God.  They  can  quote  the  authority 
of  the  Fathers  in  support  of  this  argument.  "  He  became  man 
that  we  might  be  made  God,"  says  St.  Athanasius.2  "  I  heard," 
says  St.  Augustine,  speaking  of  his  pre-converted  period,  u  Thy 
voice  from  on  high  crying  unto  me, '  I  am  the  Food  of  the  full- 
grown  :  grow,  and  then  thou  shalt  feed  on  Me.  Nor  shalt  thou 
change  Me  into  thy  substance  as  thou  changest  the  food  of  thy 
flesh,  but  thou  shalt  be  changed  into  Mine.'  "  3  Eckhart  there- 
fore did  no  more  than  expand  the  patristic  view  when  he  wrote, 
"  Our  Lord  says  to  every  living  soul, '  I  became  man  for  you. 
If  you  do  not  become  God  for  me,  you  do  me  wrong.' "  4 

If  we  are  to  allow  that  the  mystics  have  ever  attained  the 
object  of  their  quest,  I  think  we  must  also  allow  that  such  attain- 
ment involves  the  transmutation  of  the  self  to  that  state  which 
they  call,  for  want  of  exact  language,  "  deified."  The  necessity 
of  such  transmutation  is  an  implicit  of  their  first  position :  the 
law  that  "  we  behold  that  which  we  are,  and  are  that  which  we 
behold."  Eckhart,  in  whom  the  language  of  deification  assumes 
its  most  extreme  form,  justifies  it  upon  this  necessity.  "  If,"  he 
says,  "  I  am  to  know  God  directly,  I  must  become  completely 
He  and  He  I :  so  that  this  He  and  this  I  become  and  are 
one  I."  5 

God,  said  St.  Augustine,  is  the  country  of  the  soul :  its  Home, 
says  Ruysbroeck.  The  mystic  in  the  unitive  state  is  living  in 
and  of  his  native  land  ;  no  exploring  alien,  but  a  returned  exile, 
now  wholly  identified  with  it,  part  of  it,  yet  retaining  his  personal- 
ity intact.  As  none  know  the  spirit  of  England  but  the  English  ; 
and  they  know  it  by  intuitive  participation,  by  mergence,  not  by 
thought ;  so  none  but  the  "  deified  "  know  the  secret  life  of  God. 
This,  too,  is  a  knowledge  conferred  only  by  participation  :  by 
living  a  life,  breathing  an  atmosphere  :  by  "union  with  that  same 
Light  by  which  they  see,  and  which  they  see."  6    It  is  one  of  those 

1  Divine  Liturgy  of  the  Orthodox  Eastern  Church.     Prayers  before  Communion. 

2  Athanasius,  De  Incarn.  Verbi,  i.  108.  3  Aug.  Conf.,  bk.  vii.  cap.  x. 
4  Pred.  lvii.  5  Pred.  xcix.  ("  Mystische  Schriften,"  p.  122). 
6  Ruysbroeck,  "  L'Ornement  des  Noces  Spirituelles,"  1.  iii.  cap.  v. 


THE   UNITIVE   LIFE  503 

rights  of  citizenship  which  cannot  be  artificially  conferred. 
Thus  it  becomes  important  to  ask  the  mystics  what  they  have 
to  tell  us  of  their  life  lived  upon  the  bosom  of  Reality :  and  to 
receive  their  reports  without  prejudice,  however  hard  be  the 
sayings  they  contain. 

The  first  thing  which  emerges  from  these  reports,  and 
from  the  choice  of  symbols  which  we  find  in  them,  is  that 
the  great  mystics  are  anxious  above  all  things  to  establish  and 
force  on  us  the  truth  that  by  deification  they  intend  no  arrogant 
claim  to  identification  with  God,  but  as  it  were  a  transfusion 
of  their  selves  by  His  Self:  an  entrance  upon  a  new  order  of 
life,  so  high  and  so  harmonious  with  Reality  that  it  can  only  be 
called  divine.  Over  and  over  again  they  assure  us  that  person- 
ality is  not  lost,  but  made  more  real.  "  When,"  says  St. 
Augustine,  "  I  shall  cleave  to  Thee  with  all  my  being,  then 
shall  I  in  nothing  have  pain  and  labour  ;  and  my  life  shall  be  a 
real  life,  being  wholly  full  of  Thee."  x  "  My  life  shall  be  a  real 
life  "  because  it  is  "  full  of  Thee."  The  achievement  of  reality, 
and  deification,  are  then  one  and  the  same  thing :  necessarily  so, 
since  we  know  that  only  the  divine  is  the  real.2 

Mechthild  of  Magdeburg,  and  after  her  Dante,  saw  Deity  as  a 
flame  or  river  of  fire  that  filled  the  Universe  ;  and  the  "  deified  " 
souls  of  the  saints  as  ardent  sparks  therein,  ablaze  with  that  fire, 
one  thing  with  it,  yet  distinct.3  Ruysbroeck,  too,  saw  "  Every 
soul  like  a  live  coal,  burned  up  by  God  on  the  hearth  of  His 
Infinite  Love."  4  Such  fire  imagery  has  seemed  to  many  of  the 
mystics  a  peculiarly  exact  and  suggestive  symbol  of  the  tran- 
scendent state  which  they  are  struggling  to  describe.  No 
longer  confused  by  the  dim  Cloud  of  Unknowing,  they  have 
pierced  to  its  heart,  and  there  found  their  goal :  that  uncreated 
and  energizing  Fire  which  guided  the  children  of  Israel  through 
the  night. 

By  a  deliberate  appeal  to  the  parallel  of  such  great  impersonal 
forces — to  Fire  and  Heat,  Light,  Water,  Air — mystic  writers 
seem  able  to  bring  out  a  perceived  aspect  of  the  Godhead, 
and  of  the  transfigured  soul's  participation  therein,  which   no 

Aug.  Conf.,  bk.  x.  cap.  xxviii. 
2  Cf.  Coventry  Patmore,   "The    Rod,    the    Root,  and   the   Flower,"  "Magna 
Moralia,"  xxii.  3  par.  xxx.  64. 

4  "  De  Septem  Gradibus  Amoris,"  cap.  xiv. 


504  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

merely  personal  language,  taken  alone,  can  touch.  Thus 
Boehme,  trying  to  describe  the  union  between  the  Word  and 
the  soul,  says,  "I  give  you  an  earthly  similitude  of  this.  Behold 
a  bright  flaming  piece  of  iron,  which  of  itself  is  dark  and 
black,  and  the  fire  so  penetrateth  and  shineth  through  the  iron, 
that  it  giveth  light.  Now,  the  iron  doth  not  cease  to  be ;  it  is 
iron  still :  and  the  source  (or  property)  of  the  fire  retaineth  its 
own  propriety  :  it  doth  not  take  the  iron  into  it,  but  it  penetra- 
teth (and  shineth)  through  the  iron  ;  and  it  is  iron  then  as  well 
as  before,  free  in  itself:  and  so  also  is  the  source  or  property  of 
the  fire.  In  such  a  manner  is  the  soul  set  in  the  Deity ;  the 
Deity  penetrateth  through  the  soul,  and  dwelleth  in  the  soul, 
yet  the  soul  doth  not  comprehend  the  Deity,  but  the  Deity  com- 
prehendeth  the  soul,  but  doth  not  alter  it  (from  being  a  soul) 
but  only  giveth  it  the  divine  source  (or  property)  of  the 
Majesty." » 

Almost  exactly  the  same  image  of  deification  was  used, 
five  hundred  years  before  Boehme's  day,  by  Richard  of  St. 
Victor ;  a  mystic  whom  he  is  hardly  likely  to  have  read. 
"  When  the  soul  is  plunged  in  the  fire  of  divine  love,"  he  says, 
"  like  iron,  it  first  loses  its  blackness,  and  then,  growing  to  white 
heat,  it  becomes  like  unto  the  fire  itself.  And  lastly,  it  grows 
liquid,  and  losing  its  nature  is  transmuted  into  an  utterly 
different  quality  of  being."  "As  the  difference  between  iron  that 
is  cold  and  iron  that  is  hot,"  he  says  again,  "so  is  the  difference 
between  soul  and  soul :  between  the  tepid  soul  and  the  soul 
made  incandescent  by  divine  love."2  Other  contemplatives 
say  that  the  deified  soul  is  transfigured  by  the  inundations 
of  the  Uncreated  Light :  that  it  is  like  a  brand  blazing  in  the 
furnace,  transformed  to  the  likeness  of  the  fire.  "  These  souls," 
says  the  Divine  voice  to  St.  Catherine  of  Siena,  "  thrown  into 
the  furnace  of  My  charity,  no  part  of  their  will  remaining 
outside  but  the  whole  of  them  being  inflamed  in  Me,  are  like 
a  brand,  wholly  consumed  in  the  furnace,  so  that  no  one  can 
take  hold  of  it  to  extinguish  it,  because  it  has  become  fire. 
In  the  same  way  no  one  can  seize  these  souls,  or  draw  them 
outside  of  Me,  because  they  are  made  one  thing  with  Me 
through  grace,  and  I   never  withdraw  Myself  from  them   by 

1  "  The  Threefold  Life  of  Man,"  cap.  vi.  88. 

8  u  De  Quatuor  Giadibus  Violentae  Charitatis"  (Migne,  Patrologia  Latina  cxcvi.). 


THE  UNITIVE  LIFE  505 

sentiment,  as  in  the  case  of  those  whom  I  am  leading  on  to 
perfection."  * 

For  the  most  subtle  and  delicate  descriptions  of  the  Unitive 
or  Deified  State,  understood  as  self-loss  in  the  "  Ocean  Pacific  " 
of  God,  we  must  go  to  the  great  genius  of  Ruysbroeck.  He 
alone,  whilst  avoiding  all  its  pitfalls,  has  conveyed  the  sugges- 
tion of  its  ineffable  joys  in  a  measure  which  seems,  as  we  read, 
to  be  beyond  all  that  we  had  supposed  possible  to  human 
utterance.  Awe  and  rapture,  theological  profundity,  keen 
psychological  insight,  are  here  tempered  by  a  touching  sim- 
plicity. We  listen  to  the  report  of  one  who  has  indeed  heard 
"the  invitation* of  love"  which  "draws  interior  souls  towards 
the  One "  and  says  "  Come  home."  A  humble  receptivity,  a 
meek  self-naughting  is  with  Ruysbroeck,  as  with  all  great 
mystics,  the  gate  of  the  City  of  God.  "Because  they  have 
given  themselves  to  God  in  every  action,  omission  or  sub- 
mission," he  says  of  the  deified  souls,  "  they  possess  a  peace 
and  a  joy,  a  consolation  and  a  savour,  that  none  can  com- 
prehend ;  neither  the  world,  nor  the  creature  adorned  for 
himself,  nor  whosoever  prefers  himself  before  God.  These 
interior  souls,  these  men  of  lucid  vision,  have  before  their 
eyes  whensoever  they  will  the  invitation  of  love,  which  draws 
them  towards  the  One,  and  which  says,  Come  home.  .  . 
Thus  the  spirit  is  caught  by  a  simple  rapture  to  the  Trinity 
and  by  a  threefold  rapture  to  the  Unity,  and  yet  never  does  the 
creature  become  God :  never  is  she  confounded  with  Him.  The 
union  is  brought  about  by  Love  ;  but  the  creature  sees  and 
feels  between  God  and  herself  an  eternal  and  invincible  dis- 
tinction. However  close  the  union  may  be,  yet  heaven  and 
earth,  which  have  come  forth  from  the  hands  of  God,  still 
hide  impenetrable  secrets  from  the  spirit  of  the  contemplative. 
When  God  gives  Himself  to  a  soul,  the  chasm  between  herself 
and  Him  appears  immense :  but  the  powers  of  the  soul,  re- 
duced to  simplicity,  suffer  a  divine  transformation.  .  .  .  The 
spirit  feels  the  truth  and  splendour  of  the  divine  union,  yet  still 
feels  in  itself  an  essential  propensity  towards  its  ancient  state ; 
and  this  propensity  safeguards  in  it  the  sense  of  the  gap  which 
is  between  God  and  itself.  There  is  nothing  more  sublime  then 
the  sense  of  this  distance  :  for  the  Unity  is  a  force  which  draws 

*  Dialogo,  cap.  lxxviii. 


506  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

towards  Itself  all  that  which  it  has  put  into  the  world,  both 
natural  and  supernatural.  Further,  illuminated  men  are  caught 
up,  above  the  reason,  into  the  domain  of  naked  vision.  There 
the  Divine  Unity  dwells  and  calls.  Hence  their  bare  vision, 
cleansed  and  free,  penetrates  the  activity  of  all  created  things, 
and  pursues  it  to  search  it  out  even  to  its  heights.  And  this 
bare  vision  is  penetrated  and  impregnated  by  the  Eternal 
Light,  as  the  air  is  penetrated  and  impregnated  by  the  sun. 
The  naked  will  is  transformed  by  the  Eternal  Love,  as  fire  by 
fire.  The  naked  spirit  stands  erect,  it  feels  itself  to  be  wrapped 
round,  affirmed  and  fixed  by  the  formless  immensity  of  God. 
Thus,  far  above  reason,  the  created  image  is  united  by  a 
threefold  bond  with  its  eternal  type,  the  Source  and  Principle 
of  its  life."  * 

"  When  love  has  carried  us  above  all  things,"  he  says  in 
another  place,  "  above  the  light,  into  the  Divine  Dark,  there 
we  are  transformed  by  the  Eternal  Word  Who  is  the  image  of 
the  Father ;  and  as  the  air  is  penetrated  by  the  sun,  thus  we 
receive  in  peace  the  Incomprehensible  Light,  enfolding  us  and 
penetrating  us.  What  is  this  light,  if  it  be  not  a  contemplation 
of  the  Infinite  and  an  intuition  of  Eternity  ?  We  behold  that 
which  we  are,  and  we  are  that  which  we  behold,  because  our 
being,  without  losing  anything  of  its  own  personality,  is  united 
with  the  Divine  Truth  which  respects  all  diversity."  2 

Here  the  personal  aspect  of  the  Absolute  seems  to  be  reduced 
to  a  minimum  :  yet  all  that  we  value  in  personality — love,  action, 
will — remains  unimpaired.  We  seem  caught  up  to  a  plane  of 
vision  beyond  the  categories  of  the  human  mind  :  to  the  contem- 
plation of  a  Something  Other — our  home,  our  hope,  and  our 
passion,  the  completion  of  our  personality,  and  the  Substance  of 
all  that  Is.  Such  an  endless  contemplation,  such  a  dwelling 
within  the  substance  of  Goodness,  Truth,  and  Beauty,  is  the 
essence  of  that  Beatific  Vision,  that  "  participation  of  Eternity," 
"of  all  things  most  delightful  and  desired,  of  all  things  most 
loved  by  them  who  have  it,"  3  which  theology  presents  to  us 
as  the  objective  of  the  soul. 

Those  mystics  of  the  metaphysical  type  who  tend  to  use 

1  Ruysbroeck,  "Samuel"  (Hello,  pp.  199-201). 

8  Ibid.,  "  De  Contemplatione  ' ■  (Hello,  p.  145). 

3  St.  Thomas  Aquinas,  "  Summa  Contra  Gentiles,"  bk.  iii.  cap.  lxii. 


THE   UNITIVE  LIFE  507 

these  impersonal  symbols  of  Place  and  Thing  often  see  in 
the  Unitive  Life  a  foretaste  of  the  Beatific  Vision  :  an  entrance 
here  and  now  into  that  absolute  life  within  the  Divine  Being, 
which  shall  be  lived  by  all  perfect  spirits  when  they  have  cast 
oft  the  limitations  of  the  flesh  and  re-entered  the  eternal  order 
for  which  they  were  made.  For  them,  in  fact,  the  "  deified 
man,"  in  virtue  of  his  genius  for  transcendental  reality,  has 
run  ahead  of  human  history :  and  attained  a  form  of  con- 
sciousness which  other  men  will  only  know  when  earthly  life  is 
past. 

In  the  "  Book  of  Truth "  Suso  has  a  beautiful  and  poetic 
comparison  between  the  life  of  the  blessed  spirits  dwelling 
within  the  Ocean  of  Divine  Love,  and  that  approximate  life 
which  is  lived  on  earth  by  the  mystic  who  has  renounced  all 
selfhood  and  merged  his  will  in  that  of  the  Eternal  Truth. 
Here  we  find  one  of  the  best  of  many  answers  to  the 
ancient  but  apparently  immortal  accusation  that  the  mystics 
teach  the  total  annihilation  of  personality  as  the  end  and  object 
of  their  quest.  "  Lord,  tell  me,"  says  the  Servitor,  "  what 
remains  to  a  blessed  soul  which  has  wholly  renounced  itself." 
Truth  says,  "  When  the  good  and  faithful  servant  enters  into  the 
joy  of  his  Lord,  he  is  inebriated  by  the  riches  of  the  house 
of  God  ;  for  he  feels,  in  an  ineffable  degree,  that  which  is  felt  by 
an  inebriated  man.  He  forgets  himself,  he  is  no  longer  conscious 
of  his  selfhood ;  he  disappears  and  loses  himself  in  God, 
and  becomes  one  spirit  with  Him,  as  a  drop  of  water  which 
is  drowned  in  a  great  quantity  of  wine.  For  even  as 
such  a  drop  disappears,  taking  the  colour  and  the  taste  of  wine, 
so  it  is  with  those  who  are  in  full  possession  of  blessedness. 
All  human  desires  are  taken  from  them  in  an  indescribable 
manner,  they  are  rapt  from  themselves,  and  are  immersed 
in  the  Divine  Will.  If  it  were  otherwise,  if  there  remained 
in  the  man  some  human  thing  that  was  not  absorbed,  those 
words  of  Scripture  which  say  that  God  must  be  all  in  all 
would  be  false.  His  being  remains,  but  in  another  form,  in 
another  glory,  and  in  another  power.  And  all  this  is  the  result 
of  entire  and  complete  renunciation.  .  .  .  Herein  thou  shalt 
find  an  answer  to  thy  question  ;  for  the  true  renunciation  and 
veritable  abandonment  of  a  man  to  the  Divine  Will  in  the 
temporal  world   is   an   imitation   and   reduction   of  that   self- 


508  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

abandonment  of  the  blessed,  of  which  Scripture  speaks :  and 
this  imitation  approaches  its  model  more  or  less  according 
as  men  are  more  or  less  united  with  God  and  become  more 
or  less  one  with  God.  Remark  well  that  which  is  said  of  the 
blessed :  they  are  stripped  of  their  personal  initiative,  and 
changed  into  another  form,  another  glory,  another  power.  What 
then  is  this  other  form,  if  it  be  not  the  Divine  Nature  and  the 
Divine  Being  whereinto  they  pour  themselves,  and  which  pours 
Itself  into  them,  and  becomes  one  thing  with  them  ?  And  what 
is  that  other  glory,  if  it  be  not  to  be  illuminated  and  made 
shining  in  the  Inaccessible  Light  ?  What  is  that  other  power, 
if  it  be  not  that  by  means  of  his  union  with  the  Divine  Person- 
ality, there  is  given  to  man  a  divine  strength  and  a  divine 
power  that  he  may  accomplish  all  which  pertains  to  his 
blessedness  and  omit  all  which  is  contrary  thereto?  And 
thus  it  is  that,  as  has  been  said,  a  man  comes  forth  from  his 
selfhood."  * 

All  the  mystics  agree  that  the  stripping  off  of  personal 
initiative,  the  I,  the  Me,  the  Mine,  utter  renouncement,  or  "  self- 
naughting  " — self-abandonment  to  the  direction  of  a  larger  Will 
— is  an  imperative  condition  of  the  attainment  of  the  unitive 
life.  The  temporary  denudation  of  the  mind,  whereby  the 
contemplative  made  space  for  the  vision  of  God,  must  now 
be  applied  to  the  whole  life.  Here,  they  say,  there  is  a 
final  swallowing  up  of  that  wilful  I-hood  which  we  ordinarily 
recognize  as  ourselves.  It  goes  for  ever,  and  something  new 
is  established  in  its  room.  The  self  is  made  part  of  the 
mystical  Body  of  God ;  and,  humbly  taking  its  place  in  the 
corporate  life  of  Reality,  would  "  fain  be  to  the  Eternal  Good- 
ness what  his  own  hand  is  to  a  man."  2  That  strange  "  hunger 
and  thirst  of  God  for  the  soul,"  "  at  once  avid  and  generous,"  of 
which  they  speak  in  their  most  profound  passages,  here  makes 
its  final  demand  and  receives  its  satisfaction.  "  All  that  He  has, 
all  that  He  is,  He  gives :  all  that  we  have,  all  that  we  are,  H( 
takes."  3 

The  self,  they  declare,  is  devoured,  immersed  in  the  Abyss  ; 
"  sinks  into  God  Who  is  the  deep  of  deeps."     In  their  efforts 


Suso,  "  Buchlein  von  der  Wahrheit,"  cap.  iv. 
Theologia  Germanica,"  cap.  x. 
s  Ruysbroeck,  "  De  Contemplatione  "  (Hello,  p.  151). 


2  < 


THE  UNITIVE  LIFE  509 

towards  describing  to  us  this,  the  supreme  mystic  act,  and  the 
new  life  to  which  it  gives  birth,  they  are  often  driven  to  the 
use  of  images  which  must  seem  to  us  grotesque,  were  it  not 
for  the  flame  which  burns  behind :  as  when  Ruysbroeck  cries, 
"  To  eat  and  be  eaten  !  this  is  Union  !  .  .  .  Since  His  desire  is 
immensity  itself,  to  be  wholly  devoured  of  Him  does  not 
greatly  amaze  me."  x 

(B)  At  this  point  we  begin  to  see  that  the  language  of 
deification,  taken  alone,  will  not  suffice  to  describe  the  soul's 
final  experience  of  Reality.  The  personal  and  emotional  aspect 
of  man's  relation  with  his  Source  is  also  needed  if  that  which 
he  means  by  "  union  with  God  "  is  to  be  even  partially  expressed. 
Hence,  even  the  most  "  transcendental "  mystic  is  constantly 
compelled  to  fall  back  on  the  language  of  love  in  the  endeavour 
to  express  the  content  of  his  metaphysical  raptures  :  and  forced 
in  the  end  to  acknowledge  that  the  perfect  union  of  Lover 
and  Beloved  cannot  be  suggested  in  the  arid  though  doubtless 
accurate  terms  of  religious  philosophy.  Such  arid  language 
eludes  the  most  dangerous  aspects  of  "divine  union,"  the 
pantheistic  on  one  hand,  the  "  amoristic "  on  the  other  ;  but 
it  also  fails  to  express  the  most  splendid  side  of  that  amazing 
vision  of  truth.  It  needs  some  other  more  personal  and 
intimate  vision  to  complete  it:  and  we  shall  find  in  the 
reports  of  those  mystics  of  the  "  intimate "  type  to  whom  the 
Unitive  Life  has  meant  not  self-loss  in  an  Essence,  but  self- 
fulfilment  in  the  union  of  heart  and  will,  just  that  completing 
touch. 

The  extreme  form  of  this  kind  of  apprehension  of  course 
finds  expression  in  the  well-known  and  heartily  abused  sym- 
bolism of  the  Spiritual  Marriage  between  God  and  the  Soul  : 
a  symbolism  which  goes  back  to  the  Orphic  Mysteries,  and 
thence  descended  via  the  Neoplatonists  unto  the  stream  of 
Christian  tradition.  But  there  are  other  and  less  concrete  forms 
of  it,  wholly  free  from  the  dangers  which  are  supposed  to  lurk 
in  "  erotic "  imagery  of  this  kind.  Thus  Jelalu  'd  Din,  by 
the  use  of  metaphors  which  are  hardly  human  yet  charged  with 
passionate  feeling,  tells,  no  less  successfully  than  the  writer 
of  the  Song  of  Solomon,  the  secret  of  this  union  in  which 
"heart  speaks  to  heart." 

1  Hello,  p.  223. 


510  AN  INTRODUCTION   TO  MYSTICISM 

11  With  Thy  Sweet  Soul,  this  soul  of  mine 

Hath  mixed  as  Water  doth  with  Wine. 
Who  can  the  Wine  and  Water  part, 

Or  me  and  Thee  when  we  combine  ? 
Thou  art  become  my  greater  self ; 

Small  bounds  no  more  can  me  confine. 
Thou  hast  my  being  taken  on, 

And  shall  not  I  now  take  on  Thine? 
Me  Thou  for  ever  hast  affirmed, 

That  I  may  ever  know  Thee  mine. 
Thy  Love  has  pierced  me  through  and  through, 

Its  thrill  with  Bone  and  Nerve  entwine. 
I  rest  a  Flute  laid  on  Thy  lips  ; 

A  lute,  I  on  Thy  breast  recline. 
Breathe  deep  in  me  that  I  may  sigh  ; 

Yet  strike  my  strings,  and  tears  shall  shine."1 

What  the  mystic  here  desires  to  tell  us  is,  that  his  new  life 
is  not  only  a  free  and  conscious  participation  in  the  life  of 
Eternity — a  fully-established  existence  on  real  and  transcen- 
dental levels — but  also  the  conscious  sharing  of  an  inflowing 
personal  life  greater  than  his  own ;  a  tightening  of  the  bonds 
of  that  companionship  which  has  been  growing  in  intimacy 
and  splendour  during  the  course  of  the  Mystic  Way.  This 
companionship,  at  once  the  most  actual  and  most  elusive  fact 
of  human  experience,  is  utterly  beyond  the  resources  of  speech. 
So  too  are  those  mysteries  of  the  communion  of  love,  whereby 
the  soul's  humble,  active,  and  ever-renewed  self-donation 
becomes  the  medium  of  her  glory :  and  "  by  her  love 
she  is  made  the  equal  of  Love " — the  beggar  maid  sharing 
Cophetua's  throne. 

Thus  the  anonymous  author  of  the  "  Mirror  "  writes,  in  one 
of  his  most  daring  passages,  "'I  am  God/  says  Love,  'For 
Love  is  God,  and  God  is  Love.  And  this  soul  is  God  by 
her  condition  of  love :  but  I  am  God  by  my  Nature 
Divine.  And  this  [state]  is  hers  by  the  justice  of  love.  So 
that  this  precious  one  loved  of  Me,  is  taught,  and  is  led  of 
Me  out  of  herself.  .  .  .  This  [soul]  is  the  eagle  that  flies  high, 
so  right  high  and  yet  more  high  than  does  any  other  bird  ;  for 
she  is  feathered  with  fine  love/  "  2 

The  simplest  expression  of  the  Unitive  Life,  the  simplest 

1  Jalulu  'd  Din,  "The  Festival  of  Spring"  (Hastie's  translation,  p.  io). 

2  "The  Mirror  of  Simple  Souls,"  f.  157,  b. 


THE   UNITIVE  LIFE  511 

interpretation  which  we  can  put  on  its  declarations,  is  that  it  is 
the  complete  and  conscious  fulfilment  here  and  now  of  this 
Perfect  Love.  In  it  certain  elect  spirits,  still  in  the  flesh,  "  fly 
high  and  yet  more  high,"  till  "  taught  and  led  out  of  themselves  " 
they  become,  in  the  exaggerated  language  of  the  "Mirror,"  "God 
by  condition  of  love."  Home-grown  English  mysticism  tried  as 
a  rule  to  express  the  inexpressible  in  homelier,  more  temperate 
terms  than  this.  "  I  would  that  thou  knew,"  says  the  unknown 
author  of  the  "  Epistle  of  Prayer,"  "  what  manner  of  working  it  is 
that  knitteth  man's  soul  to  God,  and  that  maketh  it  one  with 
Him  in  love  and  accordance  of  will  after  the  word  of  St.  Paul, 
saying  thus  :  '  Qui  adhaeret  Deo,  unus  spiritus  est  cum  Mo ' ; 
that  is  to  say :  '  Whoso  draweth  near  to  God  as  it  is  by  such  a 
reverent  affection  touched  before,  he  is  one  spirit  with  God.'  That 
is,  though  all  that  God  and  he  be  two  and  sere  in  kind,  never- 
theless yet  in  grace  they  are  so  knit  together  that  they  are  but 
one  in  spirit ;  and  all  this  is  one  for  onehead  of  love  and  accord- 
ance of  will ;  and  in  this  onehead  is  the  marriage  made  between 
God  and  the  soul  the  which  shall  never  be  broken,  though  all 
that  the  heat  and  the  fervour  of  this  work  cease  for  a  time,  but 
by  a  deadly  sin.  In  the  ghostly  feeling  of  this  onehead  may  a 
loving  soul  both  say  and  sing  (if  it  list)  this  holy  word  that  is 
written  in  the  Book  of  Songs  in  the  Bible,  'Dilectus  meus  mihi  et 
ego  Mil  that  is,  My  loved  unto  me,  and  I  unto  Him  ;  under- 
standing that  God  shall  be  knitted  with  the  ghostly  glue  of 
grace  on  His  party,  and  the  lovely  consent  in  gladness  of  spirit 
on  thy  party."1 

I  think  no  one  can  deny  that  the  comparison  of  the  bond 
between  the  soul  and  the  Absolute  to  "  ghostly  glue,"  though 
crude,  is  wholly  innocent.  Its  appearance  in  this  passage  as  an 
alternative  to  the  symbol  of  wedlock  may  well  check  the  un- 
critical enthusiasm  of  those  who  hurry  to  condemn  at  sight  all 
"  sexual "  imagery.  That  it  has  seemed  to  the  mystics  appro- 
priate and  exact  is  proved  by  its  reappearance  in  the  next  cen- 
tury in  the  work  of  a  greater  contemplative.  "Thou  givest  me," 
says  Petersen,  "  Thy  whole  Self  to  be  mine  whole  and  un- 
divided, if  at  least  I  shall  be  Thine  whole  and  undivided. 
And  when   I  shall  be  thus  all  Thine,  even  as  from  everlasting 

1  "The  Epistle  of  Prayer."  Printed  from  Pepwell's  edition  in  "  The  Cell  of  Self- 
knowledge,''  edited  by  Edmund  Gardner,  p.  88. 


512  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

Thou  hast  loved  Thyself,  so  from  everlasting  Thou  hast  loved 
me :  for  this  means  nothing  more  than  that  Thou  enjoyest 
Thyself  in  me,  and  that  I  by  Thy  .grace  enjoy  Thee  in  myself 
and  myself  in  Thee.  And  when  in  Thee  I  shall  love  myself, 
nothing  else  but  Thee  do  I  love,  because  Thou  art  in  me  and  I 
in  Thee,  glued  together  as  one  and  the  selfsame  thing,  which  hence- 
forth and  forever  cannot  be  divided."1 

From  this  kind  of  language  to  that  of  the  Spiritual  Marriage, 
as  understood  by  the  pure  minds  of  the  mystics,  is  but  a  step.2 
They  mean  by  it  no  rapturous  satisfactions,  no  dubious 
spiritualizing  of  earthly  ecstasies,  but  a  life-long  bond  "  that 
shall  never  be  lost  or  broken,"  a  close  personal  union  of  will 
and  of  heart  between  the  free  self  and  that  "  Fairest  in  Beauty  " 
Whom  it  has  known  in  the  act  of  contemplation. 

The  Mystic  Way  has  been  a  progress,  a  growth,  in  love : 
a  deliberate  fostering  of  the  inward  tendency  of  the  soul 
towards  its  source,  an  eradication  of  its  disorderly  tendencies  to 
"temporal  goods."  But  the  only  proper  end  of  love  is  union: 
"  a  perfect  uniting  and  coupling  together  of  the  lover  and  the 
loved  into  one." 3  It  is  "a  unifying  principle,"  the  philosophers 
say; 4  life's  mightiest  agent  upon  every  plane.  Moreover,  just 
as  earthly  marriage  is  understood  by  the  moral  sense  less  as  a 
satisfaction  of  personal  desires,  than  as  a  part  of  the  great  pro- 
cess of  life — the  fusion  of  two  powers  for  new  purposes — so 
such  spiritual  marriage  brings  with  it  duties  and  obligations. 
With  the  attainment  of  a  new  order,  the  new  infusion  of 
vitality,  comes  a  new  responsibility,  the  call  to  effort  and 
endurance  on  a  new  and  mighty  scale.  It  is  not  an  act  but  a 
state.  Fresh  life  is  imparted  by  which  our  lives  are  made 
complete :  new  creative  powers  are  conferred.  The  self,  lifted 
to  the  divine  order,  is  to  be  an  agent  of  the  divine  fecundity  : 
an  energizing  centre,  a  parent  of  transcendental  life.  "  The 
last  perfection,"  says  Aquinas,  to  "  supervene  upon  a  thing,  is 
its  becoming  the  cause  of  other  things.     While  then  a  creature 

1  Gerlac  Petersen,  "  Ignitum  cum  Deo  Soliloquium,"  cap.  xv. 
3  Compare  Pt.  I.  Cap.  VI.     It  seems  needless  to  repeat  here  the  examples  there 
given. 

3  Hilton,  "  The  Treatise  written  to  a  Devout  Man,"  cap.  viii. 

4  Cf.  Ormond,  "Foundations  of  Knowledge,"  p.  442.  "When  we  love  any 
being,  we  desire  either  the  unification  of  its  life  with  our  own,  or  our  own  unification 
with  its  life.     Love  in  its  innermost  motive  is  a  unifying  principle." 


THE   UNITIVE  LIFE  513 

tends  by  many  ways  to  the  likeness  of  God,  the  last  way  left 
open  to  it  is  to  seek  the  divine  likeness  by  being  the  cause 
of  other  things,  according  to  what  the  Apostle  says,  Dei  enim 
sumus  adjutores."  z 

We  find  as  a  matter  of  fact,  when  we  come  to  study  the 
history  of  the  mystics,  that  the  permanent  Unitive  State,  or 
spiritual  marriage,  does  mean  for  those  who  attain  to  it,  first 
and  above  all  else  such  an  access  of  creative  vitality.  It  means 
man's  little  life  invaded  and  enhanced  by  the  Absolute  Life : 
the  appearance  in  human  history  of  personalities  and  careers 
which  seem  superhuman  when  judged  by  the  surface  mind. 
Such  activity,  such  a  bringing  forth  of  "  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit," 
may  take  many  forms :  but  where  it  is  absent,  where  we  meet 
with  personal  satisfactions,  personal  visions  or  raptures — how- 
ever sublime  and  spiritualized — presented  as  marks  of  the 
Unitive  Way,  ends  or  objects  of  the  quest  of  Reality,  we 
may  be  sure  that  we  have  wandered  from  the  "straight  and 
narrow  road  "  which  leads,  not  to  eternal  rest,  but  to  Eternal 
Life.  "  The  fourth  degree  of  love  is  spiritually  fruitful,"  2  said 
Richard  of  St.  Victor.  Wherever  we  find  a  sterile  love,  a 
"  holy  passivity,"  we  are  in  the  presence  of  quietistic  heresy ; 
not  of  the  Unitive  Life.  "  I  hold  it  for  a  certain  truth,"  says 
St.  Teresa,  "  that  in  giving  these  graces  our  Lord  intends,  as  I 
have  already  said  in  this  treatise,  to  fortify  our  weakness,  that 
we  may  be  made  capable  of  following  His  example  in  the 
endurance  of  great  pains.  .  .  .  Whence  did  St.  Paul  draw 
strength  to  support  his  excessive  labours  ?  We  see  clearly  in 
him  the  effects  of  visions  and  contemplations  which  came  indeed 
from  God  ;  not  of  a  delirious  fancy,  nor  the  arts  of  the  spirit 
of  darkness.  After  the  reception  of  such  great  favours,  did  he 
go  and  hide  himself  in  order  to  enjoy  in  peace  the  ecstasy  which 
overwhelmed  his  soul,  without  occupying  himself  with  other 
things  ?  You  know  that  on  the  contrary  he  passed  his  whole 
days  in  apostolic  labours,  working  at  night  in  order  to  earn  his 
bread.  .  .  .  Oh  my  sisters  !  who  can  describe  the  point  to 
which  a  soul  where  our  Lord  dwells  in  so  special  a  manner 
neglects  her  own  ease  ?     How  little  honours  affect  her  !     How 

1  "  Summa  Contra  Gentiles,"  bk.  iii.  cap.  xxi. 

2  "  De  Quatuor  Gradibus  Violent^  Charitatis  "  (Migne,  Patrologia  Latina  cxcvi, 
col.  1216  D). 

LL 


514  AN   INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

far  she  is  from  wishing  to  be  esteemed  in  the  least  thing  !  When 
she  possesses  the  ceaseless  companionship  of  her  Bridegroom, 
how  could  she  think  of  herself?  Her  only  thought  is  to  please 
Him,  and  to  seek  out  ways  in  which  she  may  show  Him  her 
love.  It  is  to  this  point,  my  daughters,  that  orison  tends  ;  and, 
in  the  design  of  God,  this  spiritual  marriage  is  destined  to  no 
other  purpose  but  the  incessant  production  of  work,  work  !  And 
this,  as  I  have  already  told  you,  is  the  best  proof  that  the 
favours  which  we  receive  have  come  from  God."  J  "  To  give 
to  our  Lord  a  perfect  hospitality  "  she  says  in  the  same  chapter, 
"  Mary  and  Martha  must  combine." 

When  we  look  at  the  lives  of  the  great  theopathetic  mystics, 
the  true  initiates  of  Eternity — inarticulate  as  these  mystics 
often  are — we  find  ourselves  in  the  presence  of  an  amazing,  a 
superabundant  vitality:  of  a  "triumphing  force  "over  which 
circumstance  has  no  power.  "  The  incessant  production  of 
work,  work"  seems  indeed  to  be  the  object  of  that  Spirit, 
by  Whose  presence  their  interior  castle  is   now  filled. 

We  see  St.  Paul,  abruptly  enslaved  by  the  First  and  Only 
Fair,  not  hiding  himself  to  enjoy  the  vision  of  Reality,  but 
going  out  single-handed  to  organize  the  Catholic  Church. 
We  ask  how  it  was  possible  for  an  obscure  Roman  citizen, 
without  money,  influence,  or  good  health,  to  lay  these  colossal 
foundations  :  and  he  answers,  "  Not  I,  but  Christ  in  me." 

We  see  Joan  of  Arc,  a  child  of  the  peasant  class,  leaving  the 
sheepfold  to  lead  the  armies  of  France.  We  ask  how  this 
incredible  thing  can  be  :  and  are  told  "  Her  Voices  bade  her." 
A  message,  an  overpowering  impulse,  came  from  the  supra- 
sensible  :  vitality  flowed  in  on  her,  she  knew  not  how  or  why. 
She  was  united  with  the  Infinite  Life,  and  became  Its  agent,  the 
medium  of  Its  strength,  "  what  his  own  hand  is  to  a  man." 

We  see  St.  Francis,  "  God's  troubadour,"  marked  with  His 
wounds,  inflamed  with  His  joy — obverse  and  reverse  of  the 
earnest-money  of  eternity — St.  Ignatius  Loyola,  our  Lady's 
knight — incurably  romantic  figures  both  of  them — go  out  to 
change  the  spiritual  history  of  Europe.  Where  did  they  find — 
born  and  bred  to  the  most  ordinary  of  careers,  in  the  least  spiri- 
tual of  atmospheres — that  superabundant  energy,  that  genius  for 
success  which  triumphed  best  in  the  most  hopeless  situations  ? 

1  "El  Castillo  Interior,"  Moradas  Setimas,  cap.  iv. 


THE   UNITIVE   LIFE  515 

Ignatius  found  it  in  the  long  contemplations  and  hard  discipline 
of  the  cave  of  Manresa,  after  the  act  of  surrender  in  which  he 
dedicated  his  knighthood  to  the  service  of  the  Mother  of  God. 
Francis  found  it  before  the  crucifix  in  St.  Damiano,  and  re- 
newed it  in  the  ineffable  experience  of  La  Verna ;  when  "  by- 
mental  possession  and  rapture   he   was  transfigured  of  God." 

We  see  St.  Teresa,  another  born  romantic,  pass  to  the 
Unitive  State  after  long  and  bitter  struggles  between  her  lower 
and  higher  personality.  A  chronic  invalid  over  fifty  years  of 
age,  weakened  by  long  ill-health  and  by  the  terrible  mortifica- 
tions of  the  Purgative  Way,  she  deliberately  breaks  with  her 
old  career,  leaves  her  convent,  and  starts  a  new  life :  coursing 
through  Spain,  and  reforming  a  great  religious  order  in  the 
teeth  of  the  ecclesiastical  world.  Yet  more  amazing,  St.  Catherine 
of  Siena,  an  illiterate  daughter  of  the  people,  after  a  three  years' 
retreat,  consummates  the  mystic  marriage,  and  emerges  from 
the  cell  of  self-knowledge  to  dominate  the  politics  of  Italy. 
How  came  it  that  these  apparently  unsuitable  men  and  women, 
checked  on  every  side  by  inimical  environment,  ill-health, 
custom,  or  poverty,  achieved  these  stupendous  destinies  ?  The 
explanation  can  only  lie  in  the  fact  that  all  these  persons  were 
great  mystics,  living  upon  high  levels  the  theopathetic  life.  In 
each  a  character  of  the  heroic  type,  of  great  vitality,  deep 
enthusiasms,  unconquerable  will,  was  raised  to  the  spiritual 
plane,  remade  on  higher  levels  of  consciousness.  Each  by  sur- 
render of  selfhood,  by  acquiescence  in  the  large  destinies  of  life, 
had  so  furthered  that  selfs  natural  genius  for  the  Infinite  that 
their  human  limitations  were  overpassed.  Hence  they  rose  to 
freedom  and  attained  to  the  one  ambition  of  the  "naughted 
soul,"  "  I  would  fain  be  to  the  Eternal  Goodness  what  his  own 
hand  is  to  a  man." 

Even  Madame  Guyon's  natural  tendency  to  passive  states 
breaks  down  with  her  entrance  on  the  Unitive  Way.  Though 
she  cannot  be  classed  amongst  the  greatest  of  its  initiates,  she 
too  felt  its  fertilizing  power,  was  stung  from  her  "  holy  indiffer- 
ence "  to  become,  as  it  were,  involuntarily  true  to  type. 

"  The  soul,"  she  says  of  the  self  entering  upon  Union — and 
we  cannot  doubt  that  as  usual  she  is  describing  her  own  care- 
fully docketed  "  states  " — "  feels  a  secret  vigour  taking  more 
and  more  strongly  possession  of  all  her  being :  and  little  by 


516  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

little  she  receives  a  new  life,  never  again  to  be  lost,  at  least 
so  far  as  one  can  be  assured  of  anything  in  this  life.  .  .  .  This 
new  life  is  not  like  that  which  she  had  before.  It  is  a  life  in 
God.  It  is  a  perfect  life.  She  no  longer  lives  or  works  of 
herself:  but  God  lives,  acts  and  works  in  her,  and  this  grows 
little  by  little  till  she  becomes  perfect  with  God's  perfection, 
rich  with  His  riches,  and  loves  with  His  love.  .  .  .  She  lives 
only  with  the  life  of  God,  Who  being  the  Principle  of  Life,  this 
soul  cannot  lack  anything.  How  greatly  has  she  gained  by 
her  losses !  She  has  lost  the  created  for  the  Increate,  the 
nothing  for  the  All.  All  is  given  her  :  but  not  in  herself  but 
in  God,  not  to  be  possessed  of  herself  but  to  be  possessed  of 
God.  Her  riches  are  immense ;  for  they  are  nothing  less 
than  God  Himself.1 

"  I  confess,"  she  says  again,  "  that  I  do  not  understand  the 
risen  and  deified  state  of  certain  persons  who  remain,  in  spite 
of  it,  all  their  lives  long  in  a  state  of  impotence  and  deprivation  : 
for  here  the  soul  resumes  a  veritable  life.  The  acts  of  a 
risen  man  are  vital  acts :  and  if  the  soul  after  her  resurrection 
remains  without  life,  I  say  that  she  is  dead  or  buried,  but  not 
risen.  To  be  risen,  the  soul  should  be  capable  of  all  the  acts 
which  she  performed  before  the  time  of  her  losses  ;  and  per- 
form them  without  difficulty,  since  she  performs  them  in  God."  2 
This  new,  intense,  and  veritable  life  has  other  and  even 
more  vital  characteristics  than  those  which  lead  to  "  the  per- 
formance of  acts "  or  "  the  incessant  production  of  work, 
work."  It  is,  in  an  actual  sense,  as  Richard  of  St.  Victor 
reminded  us,  fertile,  creative,  as  well  as  merely  active.  In 
the  fourth  degree  of  love,  the  soul  brings  forth  its  children. 
It  is  the  agent  of  a  fresh  outbirth  of  spiritual  vitality  into  the 
world  ;  the  helpmate  of  the  Transcendent  Order,  the  mother 
of  a  spiritual  progeny.  The  great  unitive  mystics  are  each  of 
them  the  founders  of  spiritual  families,  centres  wherefrom 
radiates  new  transcendental  life.  The  "  flowing  light  of  the 
Godhead  "  is  focused  in  them,  as  in  a  lens,  only  that  it  may 
pass  through  them  to  spread  out  on  every  side.  So,  too,  the 
great  creative  seers  and  artists  are  the  parents,  not  merely 
of  their  own  immediate  works,  but  also  of  whole  schools  of 
art ;  whole  groups  of  persons  who  acquire  or  inherit  their 
1  "Les  Torrents,"  pt.  i.  cap.  ix.  2  Op.  cit.,  pt.  ii.  cap.  i. 


THE  UNITIVE  LIFE  517 

vision  of  beauty  or  truth.  Thus  within  the  area  of  influence 
of  a  Paul,  a  Francis,  an  Ignatius,  a  Teresa,  an  atmosphere  of 
reality  is  created  ;  and  new  and  vital  spiritual  personalities 
gradually  appear,  meet  for  the  work  which  these  great  founders 
set  in  hand.  The  real  witness  to  St.  Paul's  ecstatic  life  in 
God  is  the  train  of  Christian  churches  by  which  his  journey- 
ings  are  marked.  Wherever  Francis  passed,  he  left  Franciscans, 
"fragrant  with  a  wondrous  aspect,"  where  none  had  been 
before.1  The  Friends  of  God  spring  up,  individual  mystics, 
here  and  there  through  the  Rhineland  and  Bavaria.  Each 
becomes  the  centre  of  an  ever-widening  circle  of  transcendent 
life,  the  parent  of  a  spiritual  family.  They  are  come,  like 
their  Master,  that  men  may  have  life  more  abundantly :  from 
them  new  mystic  energy  is  actually  born  into  the  world. 
Again,  Ignatius  leaves  Manresa  a  solitary  :  maimed,  ignorant, 
and  poor.  He  comes  to  Rome  with  his  company  already 
formed,  and  ablaze  with  his  spirit ;  veritably  his  children, 
begotten  of  him,  part  and  parcel  of  his  life. 

Teresa  finds  the  order  of  Mount  Carmel  hopelessly  corrupt : 
all  its  friars  and  nuns  blind  to  reality,  indifferent  to  the  obliga- 
tions of  the  cloistered  life.  She  is  moved  by  the  Spirit  to  leave 
her  convent  and  begin,  in  abject  poverty,  the  foundation  of  new 
houses,  where  the  most  austere  and  exalted  life  of  contempla- 
tion shall  be  led.  She  enters  upon  this  task  to  the  accompani- 
ment of  an  almost  universal  mockery.  Mysteriously,  as  she 
proceeds,  novices  of  the  spiritual  life  appear  and  cluster  around 
her.  They  come  into  existence,  one  knows  not  how,  in  the  least 
favourable  of  atmospheres :  but  one  and  all  are  salted  with  the 
Teresian  salt.  They  receive  the  infection  of  her  abundant 
vitality :  embrace  eagerly  and  joyously  the  heroic  life  of  the 
Reform.  In  the  end,  every  city  in  Spain  has  within  it  Teresa's 
spiritual  children  :  a  whole  order  of  contemplatives,  as  truly 
born  of  her  as  if  they  were  indeed  her  sons  and  daughters  in  the 
flesh. 

Well  might  the  Spiritual  Alchemists  say  that  the  true  "  Lapis 
Philosophorum  "  is  a  tinging  stone  ;  which  imparts  its  goldness 
to  the  base  metals  brought  within  its  sphere  of  influence. 

This  reproductive  power  is  one  of  the  greatest  marks  of  the 
theopathetic  life  ;  the  true  "  mystic  marriage  "  of  the  individual 
*  Thomas  of  Celano,  Legenda  Secunda,  cap.  xii. 


518  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

soul  with  its  Source.  Those  rare  personalities  in  whom  it  is 
found  are  the  media  through  which  that  Triumphing  Spiritual 
Life  which  is  the  essence  of  reality  forces  an  entrance  into  the 
temporal  order  and  begets  children ;  heirs  of  the  superabundant 
vitality  of  the  transcendental  universe. 

But  the  Unitive  Life  is  more  than  the  sum  total  of  its 
symptoms :  more  than  the  heroic  and  apostolic  life  of  the 
"great  active":  more  than  the  divine  motherhood  of  new 
"sons  of  the  Absolute."  These  are  only  its  outward  signs, 
its  expression  in  time  and  space.  I  have  first  laid  stress 
upon  that  expression,  because  it  is  the  side  which  all 
critics  and  some  friends  of  the  mystics  persistently  ignore. 
The  contemplative's  power  of  living  this  intense  and  crea- 
tive life  within  the  temporal  order,  however,  is  tightly  bound 
up  with  that  other  life  in  which  he  attains  to  complete  com- 
munion with  the  Absolute  Order,  and  submits  to  the  inflow  of 
its  supernal  vitality. 

In  discussing  the  contributions  of  the  mystical  experience  to 
the  theories  of  Absolutism  and  Vitalism,1  we  saw  that  the  com- 
plete mystic  consciousness,  and  therefore,  of  course,  the  complete 
mystic  world,  had  a  twofold  character.  It  embraced,  we  per- 
ceived, a  Reality  which  seems  from  the  human  standpoint  at 
once  static  and  dynamic,  transcendent  and  immanent,  eternal 
and  temporal  :  accepted  both  the  absolute  World  of  Pure  Being 
and  the  unresting  World  of  Becoming  as  integral  parts  of  its 
vision  of  Truth,  demanding  on  its  side  a  dual  response.  All 
through  the  Mystic  Way  we  caught  glimpses  of  the  growth  and 
exercise  of  this  dual  intuition  of  the  Real.  Now,  the  mature 
mystic,  having  come  to  his  full  stature,  passed  through  the 
purifications  of  sense  and  of  will  and  entered  on  his  heritage, 
must  and  does  take  up  as  a  part  of  that  heritage  not  merely  (a) 
a  fruition  of  the  Divine  Goodness,  Truth,  and  Beauty,  his  place 
within  the  Sempiternal  Rose,  nor  {b)  the  creative  activity  of  an 
agent  of  the  Eternal  Wisdom  still  immersed  in  the  River  of 
Life :  but  both  together — the  twofold  destiny  of  the  spiritual 
world.  To  use  the  old  scholastic  language,  he  is  at  once  patient 
and  agent :  patient  as  regards  God,  agent  as  regards  man. 

In  a  deep  sense  it  may  be  said  of  him  that  he  now  partici- 
pates according  to  his  measure  in  that  divine-human  life  which 
1  Supra,  Pt.  I.  Cap.  II. 


THE   UNITIVE  LIFE  519 

mediates  between  man  and  the  Eternal,  and  constitutes  the 
"  salvation  of  the  world."  Therefore,  though  his  outward  heroic 
life  of  action,  his  divine  fecundity,  may  seem  to  us  the  best 
evidence  of  his  state,  it  is  the  inner  knowledge  of  his  mystical 
sonship,  "the  mysterious  peace  dwelling  in  activity,"  says 
Ruysbroeck,1  which  is  for  him  the  guarantee  of  absolute  life. 
He  has  many  ways  of  describing  this  central  fact ;  this  peculiar 
consciousness  of  his  own  transcendence,  which  coexists  with, 
and  depends  on,  a  complete  humility.  Sometimes  he  says  that 
whereas  in  the  best  moments  of  his  natural  life  he  was  but  the 
"  faithful  servant "  of  the  eternal  order,  and  in  the  illuminated 
way  became  its  "secret  friend,"  he  is  now  advanced  to  the 
final,  most  mysterious  state  of  "  hidden  child."  "  How  great," 
says  Ruysbroeck,  "  is  the  difference  between  the  secret  friend 
and  the  hidden  child  !  The  first  makes  lively,  impassioned,  but 
measured  ascents  towards  God.  But  the  second  presses  on  to 
lose  his  own  life  upon  the  summits,  in  that  simplicity  which 
knoweth  not  itself.  ...  It  is  then  that,  caught  up  above  all 
things  by  the  sublime  ardours  of  a  stripped  and  naked  spirit,  we 
feel  within  ourselves  the  certitude  and  the  perfection  of  the 
children  of  God  ;  and  obtain  the  immediate  contact  of  the 
Divine  because  we  are  immersed  in  the  Nothingness."2 

Though  the  outer  career  of  the  great  mystic,  then,  be  one  of 
superhuman  industry,  a  long  fight  with  evil  and  adversity,  his 
real  and  inner  life  dwells  securely  upon  the  heights ;  in  the 
perfect  fruition  which  he  can  only  suggest  to  us  by  the  para- 
doxical symbols  of  ignorance  and  emptiness.  He  dominates 
existence  because  he  thus  transcends  it :  is  a  son  of  God,  a 
member  of  the  eternal  order,  shares  its  substantial  life.  "  Tran- 
quillity according  to  His  essence,  activity  according  to  His 
Nature :  absolute  repose,  absolute  fecundity  "  :  this,  says 
Ruysbroeck  again,  is  the  twofold  property  of  Godhead  :  and  the 
secret  child  of  the  Absolute  participates  in  this  dual  character 
of  Reality — "  for  this  dignity  has  man  been  made."  3 

Those  two  aspects  of  truth  which  he  has  so  clumsily  classi- 
fied as  static  and  dynamic,  as  Being  and  Becoming,  now  find 
their  final  reconciliation  within  his  own  nature :  for  that  nature 

1  u  De  Contemplatione  "  (Hello,  p.  167). 

2  Op.  cit.,  loc.  cit. 

3  /did.,  p.  175.      Vide  supra,  p.  42. 


520  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

has  become  conscious  in  all  its  parts,  has  unified  itself  about  its 
highest  elements.  That  strange,  tormenting  vision  of  a  perfect 
peace,  a  joyous  self-loss,  annihilation  in  some  mighty  Life  that 
overpassed  his  own,  which  haunts  man  throughout  the  whole 
course  of  his  history,  and  finds  a  more  or  less  distorted  expres- 
sion in  all  his  creeds,  a  justification  in  all  his  ecstasies,  is  now 
traced  to  its  source :  and  found  to  be  the  inevitable  expression 
of  an  instinct  by  which  he  recognized,  though  he  could  not 
attain,  the  noblest  part  of  his  inheritance.  This  recognition  of 
his  has  of  necessity  been  imperfect  and  oblique.  It  has  taken 
in  many  temperaments  an  exaggerated  form,  and  has  been 
further  disguised  by  the  symbolic  language  used  to  describe  it. 
The  tendency  of  Indian  mysticism  to  regard  the  Unitive  Life 
wholly  in  its  passive  aspect,  as  a  total  self-annihilation,  a  dis- 
appearance into  the  substance  of  the  Godhead,  results,  I  believe, 
from  such  a  one-sided  distortion  of  truth.  The  Oriental  mystic 
"  presses  on  to  lose  his  life  upon  the  heights  " ;  but  he  does  not 
come  back  from  the  grave  and  bring  to  his  fellow-men  the  life- 
giving  news  that  he  has  transcended  mortality  in  the  interests 
of  the  race.  The  temperamental  bias  of  Western  mystics 
towards  activity  has  saved  them  as  a  rule  from  such  one-sided 
achievement  as  this ;  and  hence  it  is  in  them  that  the  Unitive 
Life,  with  its  "  dual  character  of  activity  and  rest,"  has  assumed 
its  richest  and  its  noblest  forms. 

Of  all  these  Western  mystics  none  has  expressed  more 
lucidly  or  more  splendidly  than  Ruysbroeck  the  double  nature 
of  man's  reaction  to  Reality.  It  is  the  heart  of  his  vision  of 
truth.  In  all  his  books  he  returns  to  it  again  and  again  : 
speaking,  as  none  familiar  with  his  writings  can  doubt,  the 
ardent,  joyous,  vital  language  of  first-hand  experience,  not  the 
platitudes  of  philosophy.  He  might  say  with  Dante,  his  fore- 
runner into  the  Empyrean  : — 

"  La  forma  universal  di  questo  nodo 

credo  ch'  io  vidi,  perche  piu  di  largo 
dicendo  questo,  mi  sento  ch'  io  godo."1 

It  is  then  from  Ruysbroeck  that  I  shall  make  my  quota- 
tions :  and  if  they  be  found  somewhat  long  and  difficult  of  com- 

1  Par.  xxxiii.  91.    "I  believe  that   I  beheld  the  universal  form  of  this  knot : 
because  in  saying  this  I  feel  my  joy  increased." 


THE   UNITIVE   LIFE  521 

prehension,  their  unique  importance  for  the  study  of  man's 
spiritual  abilities  must  be  my  excuse. 

First,  his  vision  of  God : — 

"  The  Divine  Persons,"  he  says,  "  Who  form  one  sole  God, 
are  in  the  fecundity  of  their  nature  ever  active :  and  in  the 
simplicity  of  their  essence  they  form  the  Godhead  and  eternal 
blessedness.  Thus  God  according  to  the  Persons  is  Eternal 
Work  :  but  according  to  the  essence  and  Its  perpetual  stillness, 
He  is  Eternal  Rest.  Now  love  and  fruition  live  between  this 
activity  and  this  rest.  Love  would  work  without  ceasing  :  for 
its  nature  is  eternal  work  with  God.  Fruition  is  ever  at  rest, 
for  it  dwells  higher  than  the  will  and  the  longing  for  the  well- 
beloved,  in  the  well-beloved  ;  in  the  divine  nescience  and  that 
simple  love  where  the  Father,  together  with  the  Son,  enfolds 
His  well-beloved  in  the  abundant  unity  of  His  Spirit,  above  the 
fecundity  of  nature.  And  that  same  Father  says  to  each  soul 
in  His  infinite  lovingkindness,  '  Thou  art  Mine  and  I  am  thine  : 
I  am  thine  and  thou  art  Mine,  for  I  have  chosen  thee  from  all 
eternity. ' "  « 

Next,  the  vision  of  the  selfs  destiny :  "  Our  duty  is  to  love 
God :  our  fruition  is  to  endure  God  and  be  penetrated  by  His 
love.  There  is  the  same  difference  between  love  and  fruition  as 
there  is  between  God  and  His  Grace.  When  we  unite  our- 
selves to  God  by  love,  then  we  spiritualize  ourselves  :  but  when 
He  Himself  draws  us  in  a  flight  of  the  spirit,  and  transforms 
us  in  His  spirit,  then,  so  to.  speak,  we  are  fruition.  And  the 
spirit  of  God  Himself  pushes  us  out  from  Himself  by  His 
breath,  in  order  that  we  may  love,  and  may  do  good  works  ; 
and  again  He  draws  us  to  Himself,  in  order  that  we  may 
repose  in  peace  and  in  fruition.  And  this  is  Eternal  Life  ;  even 
as  our  bodily  life  subsists  in  the  indrawing  and  outgoing  of  our 
breath."  2 

"  Understand,"  he  says  again,  "  God  comes  to  us  incessantly, 
both  with  and  without  intermediary;  and  He  demands  of  us  both 
action  and  fruition,  in  such  a  way  that  the  action  shall  not  hinder 
the  fruition,  nor  the  fruition  the  action,  but  they  shall  reinforce 
one  another  reciprocally.  And  this  is  why  the  interior  man  \i.e.y 
the  contemplative]  possesses  his  life  according  to  these  two 
manners ;  that  is  to  say,  in  rest  and  in  work.     And  in  each  of 

1  "De  Septem  Gradibus  Amoris,"  cap.  xiv.  a  Ibid.,  loc.  cit. 


522  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

them  he  is  wholly  and  undividedly ;  for  he  dwells  altogether  in 
God  in  virtue  of  his  restful  fruition  and  altogether  in  himself  in 
virtue  of  his  active  love.  And  God,  in  His  communications, 
incessantly  compels  him  to  renew  both  this  rest  and  this  work. 
And  because  the  soul  is  just,  it  desires  to  pay  at  every  instant 
that  which  God  demands  of  it ;  and  this  is  why  each  time  it  is 
irradiated  of  Him,  the  soul  is  introverted  in  a  manner  that  is 
both  active  and  fruitive,  and  thus  that  man  is  strengthened  in 
all  virtues  and  ever  more  profoundly  immersed  in  fruitive  love. 
.  .  .  He  is  active  in  all  loving  work,  for  he  sees  his  rest.  He 
is  a  pilgrim,  for  he  sees  his  country.  For  love's  sake  he  strives 
for  victory,  for  he  sees  his  crown.  Consolation,  peace,  joy, 
beauty  and  riches,  all  that  can  give  delight,  all  this  is  shown  to 
the  mind  illuminated  in  God,  in  spiritual  similitudes  and  without 
measure.  And  through  this  vision,  in  the  contact  of  God,  love 
continues  active.  For  such  a  just  man  has  built  up  in  his  own 
soul,  in  rest  and  in  work,  a  veritable  life  which  shall  endure 
for  ever ;  but  which  shall  be  transformed  after  this  present 
life  to  a  state  still  more  sublime.  Thus  this  man  is  just,  and 
he  goes  towards  God  by  inward  love,  in  eternal  work,  and  he 
goes  in  God  by  his  fruitive  inclination  in  eternal  rest.  And 
he  dwells  in  God  ;  and  yet  he  goes  out  towards  created  things, 
in  a  spirit  of  love  towards  all  things,  in  the  virtues  and  in 
works  of  righteousness.  And  this  is  the  supreme  summit  of 
the  inner  life?  x 

Compare  this  description  with  the  careers  of  the  theopathetic 
mystics;  in  whom,  indeed,  "  action  has  not  injured  fruition,  nor 
fruition  action,"  who  have,  by  some  secret  adjustment — some 
strange  magic,  as  it  seems  to  other  men — contrived  to  "  possess 
their  lives  in  rest  and  in  work  "  without  detriment  to  inward 
joy  or  outward  industry. 

Bear  in  mind  as  you  read  these  words — Ruysbroeck's  last 
supreme  effort  to  tell  the  true  relation  between  man's  free  spirit 
and  his  God — the  great  public  ministry  of  St.  Catherine  of 
Siena,  which  ranged  from  the  tending  of  the  plague-stricken  to 
the  reforming  of  the  Papacy ;  and  was  accompanied  by  the 
inward  fruitive  consciousness  of  the  companionship  of  Christ. 
Remember  the  humbler  but  not  less  beautiful  and  significant 
achievement  of  her  Genoese  namesake :  the  strenuous  lives  of 

x  Ruysbroeck,  "  L'Ornement  des  Noces  Spirituelles,"  1.  ii.  cap.  lxxiii. 


THE   UNITIVE   LIFE  523 

St.  Francis  of  Assisi,  St.  Ignatius,  St.  Teresa,  outwardly 
cumbered  with  much  serving,  observant  of  an  infinitude  of 
tiresome  details,  composing  rules,  setting  up  foundations,  neg- 
lecting no  aspect  of  their  business  which  could  conduce  to  its 
practical  success,  yet  "  altogether  dwelling  in  God  in  restful 
fruition."  Are  not  all  these  supreme  examples  of  the  state  in 
which  the  self,  at  last  fully  conscious,  knowing  Reality  because 
she  is  wholly  real,  pays  her  debt  ?  Unable  to  rest  entirely  either 
in  work  or  in  fruition,  she  seizes  on  this  twofold  expression  of 
the  superabundant  life  by  which  she  is  possessed  :  and,  on  the 
double  wings  of  eagerness  and  effort,  takes  flight  towards  her 
Home. 

In  dwelling,  as  we  have  done,  on  the  ways  in  which  the 
great  mystic  makes  actual  to  himself  the  circumstances  of  the 
Unitive  State,  we  must  not  forget  that  this  state  is,  in  essence, 
a  fulfilment  of  love  ;  the  attainment  of  a  "  heart's  desire."  By 
this  attainment,  this  lifting  of  the  self  to  free  union  with  the 
Real — as  by  the  earthly  marriage  which  dimly  prefigures  it — a 
new  life  is  entered  upon,  new  powers,  new  responsibilities  are 
conferred.  But  this  is  not  all.  The  three  prime  activities  of 
the  normal  self,  feeling,  intellect,  and  will,  though  they  seem  to 
be  fused,  are  really  carried  up  to  a  higher  term.  They  are 
unified,  it  is  true,  but  still  present  in  their  integrity ;  and  each 
demands  and  receives  full  satisfaction  in  the  attainment  of  this 
final  "  honour  for  which  man  has  been  made."  The  intellect  is 
immersed  in  that  mighty  vision  of  truth,  known  now  not  as  a 
vision  but  as  a  home  ;  where  St.  Paul  saw  things  which  might 
not  be  uttered,  St.  Teresa  found  the  "  perpetual  companionship 
of  the  Blessed  Trinity,"  and  Dante,  caught  to  its  heart  for  one 
brief  moment,  his  mind  smitten  by  the  blinding  flash  of  the 
Uncreated  Light,  knew  that  he  had  resolved  Reality's  last  para- 
dox :  the  unity  of  "  cerchio  "  and  "  imago  " — the  infinite  and 
personal  aspects  of  God.1  The  enhanced  will,  made  over  to 
the  interests  of  the  Transcendent,  receives  new  worlds  to 
conquer,  new  strength  to  match  its  exalted  destiny.  But  the 
heart  too  here  enters  on  a  new  order,  begins  to  live  upon  high 
levels  of  joy.  "  This  soul,  says  Love,  swims  in  the  sea  of  joy  : 
that  is,  in  the  sea  of  delight,  the  stream  of  divine  influences."  2 

1  Par.  xxxiii.  137. 

a  "  The  Mirror  of  Simple  Souls,"  f.  161. 


524  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

"  A  mans  volat,  currit  et  laetatur :  liber  est  et  non  tenetur"  1 
said  A  Kempis :  classic  words,  which  put  before  us  once  and 
for  ever  the  inward  joyousness  and  liberty  of  the  saints. 
They  "fly,  run  and  rejoice" — those  great,  laborious  souls, 
often  spent  with  amazing  mortifications,  vowed  to  hard  and 
never-ending  tasks.  They  are  "free,  and  nothing  can  hold 
them,"  though  they  seem  to  the  world  fenced  in  by  absurd 
renunciations  and  restrictions,  deprived  of  that  cheap  licence 
which  it  knows  as  liberty. 

That  fruition  of  joy  of  which  Ruysbroeck  speaks  in  majestic 
phrases,  describes  as  constituting  the  interior  life  of  mystic 
souls  immersed  in  the  Absolute — the  translation  of  the  Beatific 
Vision  into  the  terms  of  a  supernal  feeling-state — is  often 
realized  in  the  secret  experience  of  those  same  mystics,  as 
the  perennial  possession  of  a  childlike  gaiety,  an  inextinguish- 
able gladness  of  heart.  The  transfigured  souls  move  to  the 
measures  of  a  "love  dance"  which  persists  in  mirth  without 
comparison,  through  every  outward  hardship  and  tribulation. 
They  enjoy  the  high  spirits  peculiar  to  high  spirituality :  and 
shock  the  world  by  a  delicate  playfulness,  instead  of  exhibiting 
the  morose  resignation  which  it  feels  to  be  proper  to  the 
"  spiritual  life."  Thus  St.  Catherine  of  Siena,  though  constantly 
suffering,  "  was  always  jocund  and  of  a  happy  spirit."  When 
prostrate  with  illness  she  overflowed  with  gaiety  and  gladness, 
and  "was  full  of  laughter  in  the  Lord,  exultant  and  rejoicing."2 

Moreover,  the  most  clear-sighted  amongst  the  mystics 
declare  such  joy  to  be  an  implicit  of  Reality.  Thus  Dante, 
initiated  into  Paradise,  sees  the  whole  Universe  laugh  with 
delight  as  it  glorifies  God :  3  and  the  awful  countenance  of 
Perfect  Love  adorned  with  smiles.4  Thus  the  souls  of  the 
great  theologians  dance  to  music  and  laughter  in  the  Heaven 
of  the  Sun  ;  5  the  loving  seraphs,  in  their  ecstatic  joy,  whirl 
about  the  Being  of  God.6  " O  luce  eterna  che  .  .  .  ami  ed  arridi" 
exclaims  the  pilgrim,  as  the  Divine  Essence  is  at  last  revealed 
to  him,7  and  he  perceives  love  and  joy  as  the  final  attributes 

1  "De  Imitatione  Christi,"  1.  iii.  cap.  v. 

2  Contestatio  Fr.  Thomae  Caffarina,   Processus,  col.  1258  (E.   Gardner,  "  St. 
Catherine  of  Siena,"  p.  48). 

3  Par.  xxvii.  4.  4  Ibid.,  xx.  13.  s  Ibid.,  x.  76,  118. 

6  Ibid.,  xxviii.  100.  7  Ibid.,  xxxiii.  124-26. 


THE  UNITIVE  LIFE  525 

of  the  Triune  God.  Thus  Beatrice  with  "  suoi  occhi  ridenti" — 
so  different  from  the  world's  idea  of  a  suitable  demeanour  for 
the  soul's  supreme  instructress — laughs  as  she  mounts  with 
him  the  ladder  to  the  stars.  So,  if  the  deified  soul  has 
indeed  run  ahead  of  humanity  and  "  according  to  his  fruition 
dwells  in  heaven,"  he  too,  like  Francis,  will  run,  rejoice  and 
make  merry :  join  the  eager  dance  of  the  Universe  about 
the  One.  "If,"  say  Patmore,  "we  may  credit  certain  hints 
contained  in  the  lives  of  the  saints,  love  raises  the  spirit 
above  the  sphere  of  reverence  and  worship  into  one  cf  laughter 
and  dalliance  ;  a  sphere  in  which  the  soul  says : — 


11 '  Shall  I,  a  gnat  which  dances  in  Thy  ray, 
Dare  to  be  reverent?'  "x 

Richard  Rolle  has  expressed  this  exultant  "  spirit  of 
dalliance "  with  peculiar  insight  and  delicacy.  "  Among  the 
delights  which  he  tastes  in  so  sweet  love  burning,"  he  says 
of  the  true  lover  who  "in  the  bond  of  lovers'  wills  stably  is 
confirmed,"  "  a  heavenly  privity  inshed  he  feels,  that  no  man 
can  know  but  he  that  has  received  it,  and  in  himself  buries  the 
electuary  that  anoints  and  makes  happy  all  joyful  lovers  in 
Jesu  ;  so  that  they  cease  not  to  hie  in  heavenly  seats  to  sit, 
joy  of  their  Maker  endlessly  to  use.  Hereto  truly  they  yearn 
in  heavenly  sights  abiding ;  and  inwardly  set  afire,  all  their 
inward  parts  are  glad  with  pleasant  shining  in  light.  And 
themselves  they  feel  gladdened  with  merriest  love,  and  in  joyful 
song  wonderfully  melted.  ...  But  this  grace  generally  and 
to  all  is  not  given,  but  to  the  holiest  of  holy  souls  is  taught ; 
in  whom  the  excellence  of  love  shines,  and  songs  of  lovely 
loving,  Christ  inspiring,  commonly  burst  up,  and  as  it  were  a 
pipe  of  love  new-made,  in  sight  of  God  more  goodly  than  can 
be  said,  joying  sounds.  The  which  (soul)  the  mystery  of  love 
knowing,  with  great  cry  to  its  Love  ascends,  in  wit  sharpest, 
and  in  knowledge  and  in  feeling  subtle ;  not  spread  in  things 
of  this  world  but  into  God  all  gathered  and  set,  that  in  clean- 
ness of  conscience  and  shining  of  soul  to  Him  it  may  serve 
Whom  it   has  purposed  to  love,  and   itself  to    Him   to  give. 

1  Coventry  Patmore,  •'  The  Rod,  the  Root,  and  the  Flower,"  "  Aurea  Dicta,"  xxxix. 


526  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

Surely  the  clearer  the  love  of  the  lover  is,  the  nearer  to  him 
and  the  more  present  God  is.  And  thereby  more  clearly  in 
God  he  joys,  and  of  the  sweet  Goodness  the  more  he  feels,  that 
to  lovers  is  wont  Itself  to  inshed,  and  to  mirth  without  com- 
parison the  hearts  of  the  meek  to  turn."  l 

The  last  state  of  burning  love,  said  Rolle,  than  which  he 
could  conceive  no  closer  reaction  to  Reality,  was  the  state  of 
Sweetness  and  Song  :  the  welling  up  of  glad  music  in  the 
simple  soul,  man's  natural  expression  of  a  joy  which  overpasses 
the  descriptive  powers  of  our  untuneful  speech.  In  the  gay 
rhythms  of  that  primordial  art  he  may  say  something  of  the 
secret  which  the  more  decorous  periods  of  religion  and  phil- 
osophy will  never  let  him  tell :  something,  too,  which  in  its 
very  childishness,  its  freedom  from  the  taint  of  solemnity  and 
self-importance,  expresses  the  quality  of  that  inward  life,  that 
perpetual  youth,  which  the  "  secret  child  "  of  the  Transcendent 
Order  enjoys.  "  As  it  were  a  pipe  of  love  "  in  the  sight  of  God 
he  "joying  sounds."  The  music  of  the  spheres  is  all  about 
him:  he  is  a  part  of  the  great  melody  of  the  Divine.  "  Sweetest 
forsooth,"  says  Rolle  again,  "  is  the  rest  which  the  spirit  takes 
whilst  sweet  goodly  sound  comes  down  in  which  it  is  delighted: 
and  in  most  sweet  song  and  playful  the  mind  is  ravished, 
to  sing  likings  of  love  everlasting."  2 

When  we  come  to  look  at  the  lives  of  the  mystics,  we  find 
it  literally  true  that  such  "  songs  of  lovely  loving  commonly 
burst  up  "  whenever  we  can  catch  them  unawares ;  see  behind 
the  formidable  and  heroic  activities  of  reformer,  teacher,  or 
leader  of  men,  the  vie  intime  which  is  lived  at  the  hearth  of 
Love.  "What  are  the  servants  of  the  Lord  but  His  minstrels?" 
said  St.  Francis,3  who  saw  nothing  inconsistent  between  the 
Celestial  Melodies  and  the  Stigmata  of  Christ.  Moreover  the 
songs  of  such  troubadours,  as  the  hermit  of  Hampole  learned 
in  his  wilderness,  are  not  only  sweet  but  playful.  Dwelling 
always  in  a  light  of  which  we  hardly  dare  to  think,  save  in  the 
extreme  terms  of  reverence  and  awe,  they  are  not  afraid  with 
any  amazement :  they  are  at  home. 

The  whole  life  of  St.  Francis  of  Assisi,  that  spirit  trans- 

1  Richard  Rolle,  "The  Fire  of  Love,"  bk.  ii.  cap.  vii. 

2  Op.  cit.,  bk.  i.  cap.  xii. 

3  "  Speculum  Perfectionis,"  cap.  c.  (Steele's  translation). 


THE  UNITIVE  LIFE  527 

figured  in  God,  who  "  loved  above  all  other  birds  a  certain  little 
bird  which  is  called  the  lark," *  was  one  long  march  to  music 
through  the  world.  To  sing  seemed  to  him  a  primary  spiritual 
function  :  he  taught  his  friars  in  their  preaching  to  urge  all 
men  to  this.2  It  appeared  to  him  appropriate  and  just  to 
use  the  love  language  of  the  troubadours  in  praise  of  the  more 
perfect  Love  which  had  marked  him  as  Its  own.  "  Drunken 
with  the  love  and  compassion  of  Christ,  blessed  Francis  on  a 
time  did  things  such  as  these.  For  the  most  sweet  melody 
of  spirit  boiling  up  within  him,  frequently  broke  out  in  French 
speech,  and  the  veins  of  murmuring  which  he  heard  secretly 
with  his  ears  broke  forth  into  French-like  rejoicing.  And 
sometimes  he  picked  up  a  branch  from  the  earth,  and  laying 
it  on  his  left  arm,  he  drew  in  his  right  hand  another  stick 
like  a  bow  over  it,  as  if  on  a  viol  or  other  instrument,  and, 
making  fitting  gestures,  sang  with  it  in  French  unto  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ."  3 

Many  a  time  has  the  romantic  quality  of  the  Unitive  Life — 
its  gaiety,  freedom,  assurance,  and  joy — broken  out  in  "  French- 
like rejoicings " ;  which  have  a  terribly  frivolous  sound  for 
worldly  ears,  and  seem  the  more  preposterous  as  coming  from 
people  whose  outward  circumstances  are  of  the  most  uncomfort- 
able kind.  St.  John  of  the  Cross  wrote  love  songs  to  his  Love. 
St.  Rose  of  Lima  sang  duets  with  the  birds.  St.  Teresa,  in  the 
austere  and  poverty-stricken  seclusion  of  her  first  foundation, 
did  not  disdain  to  make  rustic  hymns  and  carols  for  her 
daughters'  use  in  the  dialect  of  Old  Castile.  Like  St.  Francis, 
she  had  a  horror  of  solemnity.  It  was  only  fit  for  hypocrites, 
thought  these  rejuvenators  of  the  Church.  The  hard  life  of 
prayer  and  penance  on  Mount  Carmel  was  undertaken  in  a 
joyous  spirit  to  the  sound  of  many  songs.  Its  great  Reformer 
was  quick  to  snub  the  too-spiritual  sister  who  "thought  it 
better  to  contemplate  than  to  sing  "  :  and  was  herself  heard,  as 
she  swept  the  convent  corridor,  to  sing  a  little  ditty  about  the 
most  exalted  of  her  own  mystical  experiences :  that  ineffable 
transverberation,  in  which  the  fiery  arrow  of  the  seraph  pierced 
her  heart.  4 

1  "  Speculum,"  cap.  cxiii.  2  Ibid.,  cap.  c. 

3  Ibid.,  cap.  xciii.,  also  Thomas  of  Celano,  Vita  Secunda,  cap.  xc. 

4  Cf.  G.  Cunninghame  Graham,  "  Santa  Teresa,"  vol.  i.  pp.  180,  ^oo,  304. 


528  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

But  the  most  lovely  and  real,  most  human  and  most  near 
to  us,  of  all  these  descriptions  of  the  celestial  exhilaration 
which  mystic  surrender  brings  in  its  train,  is  the  artless,  unin- 
tentional self-revelation  of  St.  Catherine  of  Genoa,  whose  inner 
and  outer  lives  in  their  balanced  wholeness  provide  us  with  one 
of  our  best  standards  by  which  to  judge  the  right  proportions  of 
the  Mystic  Way.  Here  the  whole  essence  of  the  Unitive  Life  is 
summed  up  and  presented  to  us  by  one  who  lived  it  upon  heroic 
levels  :  and  who  was,  in  fruition  and  activity,  in  rest  and  in 
work,  not  only  a  great  active  and  a  great  ecstatic,  but  one  of 
the  deepest  gazers  into  the  secrets  of  Eternal  Love  which  the 
history  of  Christian  mysticism  contains.  Yet  perhaps  there  is 
no  passage  in  the  works  of  these  same  mystics  which  comes  to 
so  unexpected,  so  startling  a  conclusion  as  this ;  in  which  St. 
Catherine,  with  a  fearless  simplicity,  shows  to  her  fellow-men 
the  nature  of  the  path  that  she  has  trodden  and  the  place  that 
she  has  reached. 

"  When,"  she  says,  in  one  of  her  reported  dialogues — and 
though  the  tone  be  impersonal  it  is  clearly  personal  experience 
which  speaks — "  the  lovingkindness  of  God  calls  a  soul  from  the 
world,  He  finds  it  full  of  vices  and  sins ;  and  first  He  gives  it  an 
instinct  for  virtue,  and  then  urges  it  to  perfection,  and  then  by 
infused  grace  leads  it  to  true  self-naughting,  and  at  last  to  true 
transformation.  And  this  noteworthy  order  serves  God  to  lead 
the  soul  along  the  Way :  but  when  the  soul  is  naughted  and 
transformed,  then  of  herself  she  neither  works  nor  speaks  nor 
wills,  nor  feels  nor  hears  nor  understands,  neither  has  she  of 
herself  the  feeling  of  outward  or  inward,  where  she  may  move. 
And  in  all  things  it  is  God  Who  rules  and  guides  her  without 
the  mediation  of  any  creature.  And  the  state  of  this  soul 
is  then  a  feeling  of  such  utter  peace  and  tranquillity  that  it 
seems  to  her  that  her  heart,  and  her  bodily  being,  and  all  both 
within  and  without  is  immersed  in  an  ocean  of  utmost  peace  ; 
from  whence  she  shall  never  come  forth  for  anything  that  can 
befall  her  in  this  life.  And  she  stays  immovable  imper- 
turbable, impassible.  So  much  so,  that  it  seems  to  her  in 
her  human  and  her  spiritual  nature,  both  within  and  without, 
she  can  feel  no  other  thing  than  sweetest  peace.  And  she 
is  so  full  of  peace  that  though  she  press  her  flesh,  her  nerves, 
her  bones,  no  other  thing  comes  forth  from  them  than  peace 


THE   UNITIVE  LIFE  529 

Then  says  she  all  day  for  joy  such  rhymes  as  these,  making 
them  according  to  her  manner : — 

"'Vuoi  tu  che  tu  mostr'io 
Presto  che  cosa  e  Dio? 
Pace  non  trova  chi  da  lui  si  partio.' "  * 

"  Then  says  she  all  day  for  joy  such  rhymes  as  these  " — 
nursery  rhymes,  one  might  almost  call  them :  so  infantile,  so 
naive  is  their  rhythm.  Who  would  have  suspected  this  to  be 
the  secret  manner  of  communion  between  the  exalted  soul 
of  Catherine  and  her  Love  ?  How  many  of  those  who  actually 
saw  that  great  and  able  woman  tirelessly  labouring  in  the 
administration  of  her  hospital — who  heard  that  profound  and 
instinctive  Christian  Platonist  instructing  her  disciples,  and 
declaring  the  law  of  universal  and  heroic  love — how  many  of 
these  divined  that  "  questa  santa  benedetta  "  who  seemed  to 
them  already  something  more  than  earthly,  a  matter  of  solemn 
congratulation  and  reverential  approach,  went  about  her  work 
with  a  heart  engaged  in  no  lofty  speculations  on  Eternity ;  no 
outpourings  of  mystic  passion  for  the  Absolute,  but  "  saying 
all  day  for  joy,"  in  a  spirit  of  childlike  happiness,  gay  and 
foolish  little  songs  about  her  Love? 

Standing  at  the  highest  point  of  the  mystic  ladder  which 
can  be  reached  by  human  spirits  in  this  world  of  time  and 
space,  looking  back  upon  the  course  of  that  slow  interior 
alchemy,  that  "  noteworthy  order  "  of  organic  transformation,  by 
which  her  selfhood  had  been  purged  of  imperfection,  raised  to 
higher  levels,  compelled  at  last  to  surrender  itself  to  the  all- 
embracing,  all-demanding  life  of  the  Real ;  this  is  St.  Catherine's 
deliberate  judgment  on  the  relative  and  absolute  aspects  of  the 
mystic  life.  The  "  noteworthy  order  "  which  we  have  patiently 
followed,  the  psychic  growth  and  rearrangement  of  character 

1  "  Dost  thou  wish  that  I  should  show 
All  God's  Being  thou  mayst  know? 
Peace  is  not  found  of  those  who  do  not  with  Him  go." 

(Vita  e  Dottrina,  cap.  xviii.) 

Here,  in  spite  of  the  many  revisions  to  which  the  Vita  has  been  subjected,  I  can- 
not but  see  an  authentic  report  of  St.  Catherine's  inner  mind  ;  highly  characteristic 
of  the  personality  which  "came  joyous  and  rosy-faced"  from  its  ecstatic  encounters 
with  Love.  The  very  unexpectedness  of  its  conclusion,  so  unlike  the  expressions 
supposed  to  be  proper  to  the  saints,  is  a  guarantee  of  its  authenticity.  On  the  text  of 
the  Vita  see  Von  Hiigel,  "  The  Mystical  Element  of  Religion,"  vol.  i.,  Appendix. 
MM 


530  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

the  visions  and  ecstasies,  the  joyous  illumination  and  bitter  pain 
— these  but  "  served  to  lead  the  soul  along-  the  way."  In  the 
mighty  transvaluation  of  values  which  takes  place  when  that  way 
has  at  last  been  trod,  these  "  abnormal  events  "  sink  to  insig- 
nificance. For  us,  looking  out  wistfully  along  the  pathway  to 
reality,  they  stand  out,  it  is  true,  as  supreme  landmarks,  by  which 
we  may  trace  the  homeward  course  of  pilgrim  man.  The 
importance  of  their  study  cannot  be  overrated  for  those  who 
would  study  the  way  to  that  world  from  this.  But  the  mystic, 
safe  in  that  silence  where  lovers  lose  themselves,  "  his  cheek  on 
Him  Who  for  his  coming  came,"  remembers  them  no  more.  In 
the  midst  of  his  active  work,  his  incessant  spiritual  creation,  joy 
and  peace  enfold  him.  He  needs  no  stretched  and  sharpened 
intuition  now  :  for  he  dwells  in  that  "  most  perfect  form  of  con- 
templation "  which  "  consists  in  simple  and  perceived  contact 
of  the  substance  of  the  soul  with  that  of  the  divine."  x 

The  wheel  of  life  has  made  its  circle.  Here,  at  the  last  point 
of  its  revolution,  the  extremes  of  sublimity  and  simplicity  are 
seen  to  meet.  It  has  swept  the  soul  of  the  mystic  through 
periods  of  alternate  stress  and  glory ;  tending  ever  to  greater 
transcendence,  greater  freedom,  closer  contact  with  "  the 
Supplier  of  true  life."  He  emerges  from  that  long  and 
wondrous  journey  to  find  himself,  in  rest  and  in  work,  a  little 
child  upon  the  bosom  of  the  Father.  In  that  most  dear  relation 
all  feeling,  will,  and  thought  attain  their  end.  Here  all  the 
teasing  complications  of  our  separated  selfhood  are  transcended. 
Hence  the  eager  striving,  the  sharp  vision,  are  not  wanted  any 
more.  In  that  mysterious  death  of  selfhood  on  the  summits 
which  is  the  medium  of  Eternal  Life,  heights  meet  the  deeps : 
supreme  achievement  and  complete  humility  are  one. 

In  a  last  brief  vision,  a  glimpse  as  overpowering  to  our 
common  minds  as  Dante's  final  intuition  of  reality  to  his 
exalted  and  courageous  soul,  we  see  the  triumphing  spirit,  sent 
out  before  us,  the  best  that  earth  can  offer,  stoop  and  strip 
herself  of  the  insignia  of  wisdom  and  power.  Achieving  the 
highest,  she  takes  the  lowest  place.  Initiated  into  the  atmo- 
sphere of  Eternity,  united  with  the  Absolute,  possessed  at  last 
of  the  fullness  of  Its  life,  the  soul,  self-naughted,  becomes  as  a 
little  child  :  for  of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

1  Coventry  Patmore,  "The  Rod,  the  Root,  and  the  Flower,"  "  Magna  Moralia,"  xv. 


CONCLUSION 

WE  have  traced,  as  well  as  our  limitations  allow  us,  the 
Mystic  Way  from  its  beginning  to  its  end.     We  have 
seen  the  ever-changing,  ever-growing  human  spirit 
emerging  from  the  cave  of  illusion,  enter  into  consciousness  of 
the  transcendental  world  :  the  "  pilgrim  set  towards  Jerusalem  " 
pass   through  its  gates  and  attain  his  home  in  the  bosom  of 
Reality.     For  him,  as  we  have  learned   from  his   words   and 
actions,  this  journey  and  this  End  are  all :  their  overwhelming 
importance   and   significance   swallow  up,  of  necessity,   every 
other  aspect  of  life.     Now,  at  the  end  of  our  inquiry,  we  are 
face  to  face  with  the  question — What  do  these  things  mean  for 
us;  for  ordinary  unmystical  men?     What  are  their  links  with 
that   concrete  world  of  appearance  in  which  we  are  held  fast : 
with  that  mysterious,  ever-changing  life  which  we  are  forced  to 
lead  ?     What  do  these  great   and   strange  adventures   of  the 
spirit  tell  us  as  to  the  goal  of  that  lesser  adventure  of  life  on 
which  we  are  set :  as  to  our  significance,  our  chances  of  freedom, 
our  relation  with  the  Absolute  ?     Do  they  merely  represent  the 
eccentric  performances  of  a  rare  psychic  type  ?     Are  the  match- 
less   declarations    of  the    contemplatives    only    the    fruits    of 
unbridled  imaginative  genius,  as  unrelated  to  reality  as  music 
to  the  fluctuations  of  the  Stock  Exchange  ?     Or  are  they  the 
supreme   manifestation  of  a  power  which  is   inherent  in   our 
life:   reports   of  observations   made  upon  an  actual  plane  of 
being,  which  transcends  and  dominates  our  normal  world  of 
sense  ?     The  question  is  vital :   for  unless  the  history  of  the 
mystics   can   touch   and   light   up   some   part   of  this  normal 
experience,  take  its  place  in  the  general  history  of  man,  con- 
tribute something  towards  our  understanding  of  his  nature  and 
destiny,  its  interest  for  us  can  never  be   more   than  remote,   ) 
academic,  and  unreal.  / 

Far  from  being  academic  or  unreal,  that  history,  I  think,  is 

53i 


532  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

vital  for  the  deeper  understanding  of  the  history  of  humanity. 
It  shows  us,  upon  high  levels,  the  psychological  process  to  which 
every  self  which  desires  to  rise  to  the  perception  of  Reality 
must  submit :  the  formula  under  which  man's  spiritual  con- 
sciousness, be  it  strong  or  weak,  must  necessarily  unfold.  In 
the  great  mystics  we  see  the  highest  and  widest  development 
of  that  consciousness  to  which  the  human  race  has  yet  attained. 
We  see  its  growth  exhibited  to  us  on  a  grand  scale,  perceptible 
of  all  men  :  the  stages  of  its  slow  transcendence  of  the  sense- 
world  marked  by  episodes  of  splendour  and  of  terror  which  are 
hard  for  common  men  to  accept  or  understand  as  a  part  of  the 
organic  process  of  life.  But  the  germ  of  that  same  transcen- 
dent life,  the  spring  of  the  amazing  energy  which  enables  the 
—  great  mystic  to  rise  to  freedom  and  dominate  his  world,  is  latent 
in  all  of  us ;  an  integral  part  of  our  humanity.  Where  the 
mystic  has  a  genius  for  the  Absolute,  we  have  each  a  little 
buried  talent,  some  greater,  some  less ;  and  the  growth  of  this 
talent,  this  spark  of  the  soul,  once  we  permit  its  emergence,  will 
conform  in  little,  and  according  to  its  measure,  to  those  laws  of 
organic  growth,  those  inexorable  conditions  of  transcendence 
which  we  found  to  govern  the  Mystic  Way. 

Every  person,  then,  who  awakens  to  consciousness  of  a 
Reality  which  transcends  the  normal  world  of  sense — however 
small,  weak,  imperfect  that  consciousness  may  be — is  put  of 
necessity  upon  a  road  which  follows  at  low  levels  the  path 
^  which  the  mystic  treads  at  high  levels.  The  success  with  which 
he  follows  this  way  to  freedom  and  full  life  will  depend  on  the 
intensity  of  his  love  and  will ;  his  capacity  for  self-discipline, 
his  steadfastness  and  courage.  It  will  depend  on  the  generosity 
and  completeness  of  his  outgoing  passion  for  absolute  beauty, 
absolute  goodness,  or  absolute  truth.  But  if  he  move  at  all, 
he  will  move  through  a  series  of  states  which  are,  in  their  own 
small  way,  strictly  analogous  to  those  experienced  by  the 
greatest  contemplative  on  his  journey  towards  that  union  with 
God  which  is  the  term  of  the  spirit's  ascent  towards  its  home. 

As  the  embryo  of  physical  man,  be  he  saint  or  savage, 
passes  through  the  same  stages  of  initial  growth,  so  too  with 
spiritual  man.  When  the  "new  birth"  takes  place  in  him, 
the  new  life-process  of  his  deeper  self  begins,  the  normal  indi- 
vidual, no  less  than  the  mystic,  will  know  that  spiral  ascent 


CONCLUSION  533 

towards  higher  levels,  those  violent  oscillations  of  consciousness 
between  light  and  darkness,  those  odd  mental  disturbances, 
abrupt  invasions  from  the  subliminal  region,  and  disconcerting 
glimpses  of  truth,  which  accompany  the  growth  of  the  transcen- 
dental powers ;  though  he  may  well  interpret  them  in  other  than 
the  mystic  sense.  He  too  will  be  impelled  to  drastic  self- 
discipline,  to  a  deliberate  purging  of  his  eyes  that  he  may 
see :  and,  receiving  a  new  vision  of  the  world,  will  be  spurred 
by  it  to  a  total  self-dedication,  an  active  surrender  of  his  whole 
being,  to  that  aspect  of  the  Infinite  which  he  has  perceived. 
He  too  will  endure  in  little  the  psychic  upheavals  of  the  spiritual 
adolescence :  will  be  forced  to  those  sacrifices  which  every  form 
of  genius  demands.  He  will  know  according  to  his  measure 
the  dreadful  moments  of  lucid  self-knowledge,  the  counter- 
balancing ecstasy  of  an  intuition  of  the  Real.  More  and  more, 
as  we  study  and  collate  all  the  available  evidence,  this  fact — 
this  law — is  borne  in  on  us :  that  the  movement  of  human 
consciousness,  when  it  obeys  its  innate  tendency  to  transcen- 
dence, is  always  the  same.  There  is  only  one  road  from 
Appearance  to  Reality.  "  Men  pass  on,  but  the  States  are 
permanent  for  ever." 

I  do  not  care  whether  the  consciousness  be  that  of  artist 
or  musician,  striving  to  catch  and  fix  some  aspect  of  the 
heavenly  light  or  music,  and  denying  all  other  aspects  of  the 
world  in  order  to  devote  themselves  to  this  :  or  of  the  humble 
servant  of  Science,  purging  his  intellect  that  he  may  look  upon 
her  secrets  with  innocence  of  eye  :  whether  the  higher  reality 
be  perceived  in  the  terms  of  religion,  beauty,  suffering;  of 
human  love,  of  goodness,  or  of  truth.  However  widely  these 
forms  of  transcendence  may  seem  to  differ,  the  mystic  experi- 
ence is  the  key  to  them  all.  All  in  their  different  ways  are 
exhibitions  here  and  now  of  the  Eternal ;  extensions  of  man's 
consciousness  which  involve  calls  to  heroic  endeavour,  incentives 
to  the  remaking  of  character  about  new  and  higher  centres  of 
life.  Through  each,  man  may  rise  to  freedom  and  take  his 
place  in  the  great  movement  of  the  universe,:  may  "  understand 
by  dancing  that  which  is  done."  Each  brings  the  self  who 
receives  its  revelation  in  good  faith,  does  not  check  it  by  self- 
regarding  limitations,  to  a  humble  acceptance  of  the  universal 
law  of  knowledge  :   the  law  that  "  we  behold   that   which  we 


534  AN  INTRODUCTION   TO  MYSTICISM 

are "  ;  and  hence  that  "  only  the  Real  can  know  Reality." 
Awakening,  Discipline,  Enlightenment,  Self-surrender,  and 
Union,  are  the  essential  processes  of  life's  response  to  this 
fundamental  fact :  the  conditions  of  our  attainment  of  Being, 
the  necessary  formulae  under  which  alone  our  consciousness  of 
any  of  these  fringes  of  Eternity — any  of  these  aspects  of  the 
Transcendent — can  unfold,  develop,  attain  to  freedom  and  full  life. 
We  are,  then,  one  and  all  the  kindred  of  the  mystics ;  and  it 
is  by  dwelling  upon  this  kinship,  by  interpreting — so  far  as  we 
may — their  great  declarations  in  the  light  of  our  own  little 
experience,  that  we  shall  learn  to  understand  them  best. 
Strange  and  far  away  though  they  seem,  they  are  not  cut  off 
from  us  by  some  impassable  abyss.  They  belong  to  us.  They 
are  our  brethren ;  the  giants,  the  heroes  of  our  race.  As  the 
achievement  of  genius  belongs  not  to  itself  only,  but  also  to  the 
society  that  brought  it  forth;  as  theology  declares  that  the 
merits  of  the  saints  avail  for  all ;  so,  because  of  the  solidarity 
of  the  human  family,  the  supernal  accomplishment  of  the 
mystics  is  ours  also.  Their  attainment  is  the  earnest-money 
of  our  eternal  life. 

^.To  be  a  mystic  is  simply  to  participate  here  and  now  in  that 
real  and  eternal  life ;  in  the  fullest,  deepest  sense  which  is 
possible  to  man.  It  is  to  share,  as  a  free  and  conscious  agent — 
not  a  servant,  but  as  a  son — in  the  joyous  travail  of  the  Uni- 
verse :  its  mighty  onward  sweep  through  pain  and  glory  towards 
its  home  in  God.  This  gift  of  "  sonship,"  this  power  of  free  co- 
operation in  the  world-process,  is  man's  greatest  honour.  The 
ordered  sequence  of  states,  the  organic  development,  whereby 
his  consciousness  is  detached  from  illusion  and  rises  to  the 
mystic  freedom  which  conditions,  instead  of  being  conditioned 
by,  its  normal  world,  is  the  way  he  must  tread  if  that  sonship  is 
to  be  attained.  Only  by  this  deliberate  fostering  of  his  deeper 
self,  this  transmutation  of  the  elements  of  character,  can  he  reach 
those  levels  of  consciousness  upon  which  he  hears,  and  responds 
to,  the  measure  "  whereto  the  worlds  keep  time  "  on  their  great 
pilgrimage  towards  the  Father's  heart.  The  mystic  act  of  union, 
that  joyous  loss  of  the  transfigured  self  in  God,  which  is  the 
crown  of  man's  conscious  ascent  towards  the  Absolute,  is  the 
contribution  of  the  individual  to  this,  the  destiny  of  the 
Cosmos. 


CONCLUSION  535 

The  mystic  knows  that  destiny.  It  is  laid  bare  to  his  lucid 
vision,  as  plain  to  him  as  our  puzzling  world  of  form  and 
colour  is  to  normal  sight.  He  is  the  u  hidden  child "  of  the 
eternal  order,  an  initiate  of  the  secret  plan.  Hence,  whilst  "  all 
creation  groaneth  and  travaileth,"  slowly  moving  under  the  spur 
of  blind  desire  towards  that  consummation  in  which  alone  it  can 
have  rest,  he  runs  eagerly  along  the  pathway  to  reality.  He  is 
the  pioneer  of  Life  on  its  age-long  voyage  to  the  One :  and 
shows  us,  in  his  attainment,  the  meaning  and  value  of  that  life. 

This  meaning,  this  secret  plan  of  Creation,  flames  out,  had 
we  eyes  to  see,  from  every  department  of  existence.  Its  exult- 
ant declarations  come  to  us  in  all  great  music  ;  its  wild  magic 
is  the  life  of  all  romance.  Its  law — the  law  of  love — is  the  sub- 
stance of  the  beautiful,  the  energizing  cause  of  the  heroic.  It 
lights  the  altar  of  every  creed.  It  runs  like  ichor  in  the  arteries 
of  the  universe.  All  man's  dreams  and  diagrams  concerning 
a  transcendent  Perfection  near  him  yet  intangible,  a  tran- 
scendent vitality  to  which  he  can  attain — whether  he  call  these 
objects  of  desire,  God,  grace,  being,  spirit,  beauty,  "  pure  idea  " — 
are  but  translations  of  his  deeper  selfs  intuition  of  its  destiny ; 
clumsy  fragmentary  hints  at  the  all-inclusive,  living  Absolute 
which  that  deeper  self  knows  to  be  real.  This  supernal  Thing, 
the  adorable  Substance  of  all  that  Is — the  synthesis  of  Wisdom, 
Power,  and  Love — and  man's  apprehension  of  it,  his  slow 
remaking  in  its  interests,  his  union  with  it  at  last ;  this  is  the 
theme  of  mysticism.  That  twofold  extension  of  consciousness 
which  allows  him  communion  with  its  transcendent  and  im- 
manent aspects  is,  in  all  its  gradual  processes,  the  Mystic  Way. 
It  is  also  the  crown  of  human  evolution  ;  the  fulfilment  of  life, 
the  liberation  of  personality  from  the  world  of  appearance,  its 
entrance  into  the  free,  creative  life  of  the  Real. 

Further,  Christians  may  well  remark  that  the  psychology  of 
Christ,  as  presented  to  us  in  the  Gospels,  is  of  a  piece  with  that 
of  the  mystics.  In  its  pains  and  splendours,  its  dual  character 
of  action  and  fruition,  it  reflects  their  experience  upon  the 
supernal  plane  of  more  abundant  life.  Thanks  to  this  fact,  for 
them  the  Ladder  of  Contemplation — that  ladder  which 
mediaeval  thought  counted  as  an  instrument  of  the  Passion, 
discerning  it  as  essential  to  the  true  salvation  of  man — stretches 
without  a  break  from  earth  to  the  Empyrean.     It  leans  against 


536  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

the  Cross ;  it  leads  to  the  Secret  Rose.  By  it  the  ministers  of 
Goodness,  Truth,  and  Beauty  go  up  and  down  between  the 
transcendent  and  the  apparent  world.  Seen,  then,  from  whatever 
standpoint  we  may  choose  to  adopt — whether  of  psychology, 
philosophy,  or  religion — the  adventure  of  the  great  mystics  inti- 
mately concerns  us.  It  is  a  master-key  to  man's  puzzle :  by  its 
help  he  may  explain  much  in  his  mental  make-up,  in  his  religious 
constructions,  in  his  experience  of  life.  In  all  these  departments 
he  perceives  himself  to  be  climbing  slowly  and  clumsily  upward 
toward  some  attainment  yet  unseen.  The  mystics,  expert 
mountaineers,  go  before  him  :  and  show  him,  if  he  cares  to 
learn,  the  way  to  freedom,  to  reality,  to  peace.  He  cannot  rise  in 
this,  his  earthly  existence,  to  the  awful  and  solitary  peak,  veiled 
in  the  Cloud  of  Unknowing,  where  they  meet  that  "  death  of  the 
summit,"  which  is  declared  by  them  to  be  the  gate  of  Perfect 
Life :  but  if  he  choose  to  profit  by  their  explorations,  he  may 
find  his  level,  his  place  within  the  Eternal  Order.  He  may 
rise  to  freedom,  live  the  "  independent  spiritual  life." 

Consider  once  more  the  Mystic  Way  as  we  have  traced  it 
from  its  beginning.     To  what  does  it  tend  if  not  to  this  ? 

It  began  by  the  awakening  within  the  self  of  a  new  and 
embryonic  consciousness  :  a  consciousness  of  divine  reality,  as 
opposed  to  the  illusory  sense-world  in  which  she  was  immersed. 
Humbled,  awed  by  the  august  possibilities  then  revealed  to  her, 
that  self  retreated  into  the  "  cell  of  self-knowledge  "  and  there 
laboured  to  adjust  herself  to  the  Eternal  Order  which  she  had 
perceived,  stripped  herself  of  all  that  opposed  it,  disciplined  her 
energies,  purified  the  organs  of  sense.  Remade  in  accordance 
with  her  intuitions  of  reality,  the  "eternal  hearing  and  seeing 
were  revealed  in  her."  She  opened  her  eyes  upon  a  world  still 
natural,  but  no  longer  illusory  ;  since  it  was  perceived  to  be 
illuminated  by  the  Uncreated  Light.  She  knew  then  the 
beauty,  the  majesty,  the  divinity  of  the  living  World  of 
Becoming  which  holds  in  its  meshes  every  living  thing.  She 
had  transcended  the  narrow  rhythm  by  which  common  men 
perceive  but  one  of  its  many  aspects,  escaped  the  machine- 
made  universe  presented  by  the  cinematograph  of  sense,  and 
participated  in  the  "  great  life  of  the  All."  Reality  came  forth 
to  her,  since  her  eyes  were  cleansed  to  see  It,  not  from  some 
strange  far-off  and  spiritual  country,  but  gently,  from  the  very 


CONCLUSION  537 

heart  of  things.  Thus  lifted  to  a  new  level,  she  began  again  her 
ceaseless  work  of  growth  :  and  because  by  the  cleansing  of  the 
senses  she  had  learned  to  see  the  reality  which  is  shadowed  by 
the  sense-world,  she  now,  by  the  cleansing  of  her  will,  sought 
to  draw  nearer  to  that  Eternal  Will,  that  Being  which  life,  the 
World  of  Becoming,  manifests  and  serves.  Thus,  by  the  com- 
plete surrender  of  her  selfhood  in  its  wholeness,  by  the  perfect- 
ing of  her  love,  she  slid  from  Becoming  to  Being,  and  found  her 
true  life  hidden  in  God.  M 

Yet  the  course  of  this  transcendence,  this  amazing  inward 
journey,  was  closely  linked,  first  and  last,  with  the  processes  of 
human  life.  It  sprang  from  that  life,  as  man  springs  from  the 
sod.  We  were  even  able  to  describe  it  under  those  symbolic 
formulae  which  we  are  accustomed  to  call  the  "  laws "  of  the 
natural  world.  By  an  extension  of  these  formulas,  their  logical 
application,  we  discovered  a  path  which  led  us  without  a  break 
from  the  sensible  to  the  supra-sensible ;  from  apparent  to 
absolute  life.  There  is  nothing  unnatural  about  the  Absolute 
of  the  mystics  :  He  sets  the  rhythm  of  His  own  universe,  and 
conforms  to  the  harmonies  which  He  has  made.  We,  deliber- 
ately seeking  for  that  which  we  suppose  to  be  spiritual,  too 
often  overlook  that  which  alone  is  Real.  The  true  mysteries  of 
life  accomplish  themselves  so  softly,  with  so  easy  and  assured  a 
grace,  so  frank  an  acceptance  of  our  breeding,  striving,  dying, 
and  unresting  world,  that  the  unimaginative  natural  man — all 
agog  for  the  marvellous — is  hardly  startled  by  their  daily  and 
radiant  revelation  of  infinite  wisdom  and  love.  Yet  this  revela- 
tion presses  incessantly  upon  us.  Only  the  hard  crust  of  sur- 
face-consciousness conceals  it  from  our  normal  sight.  In  some 
least  expected  moment,  the  common  activities  of  life  in  pro- 
gress, that  Reality  in  Whom  the  mystics  dwell  slips  through 
our  closed  doors,  and  suddenly  we  see  It  at  our  side. 

It  was  said  of  the  disciples  at  Emmaus,  "  Mensam  igitur 
ponunt,  panes  cibosque  offerunt,  et  Deum,  quern  in  Scripturae 
sacrae  expositione  non  cognoverant,  in  panis  fractione 
cognoscunt."  So  too  for  us  the  Transcendent  Life  for  which 
we  crave  is  revealed,  and  our  living  within  it,  not  on  some 
remote  and  arid  plane  of  being,  in  the  cunning  explanations  of 
philosophy ;  but  in  the  normal  acts  of  our  diurnal  experience 
suddenly  made   significant  for  us.     Not  in  the  backwaters  of 


r 


538  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

existence,  not  amongst  subtle  arguments  and  occult  doctrines, 
but  in  all  those  places  where  the  direct  and  simple  life  of  earth 
goes  on.  It  is  found  in  the  soul  of  man  so  long  as  that  soul  is 
alive  and  growing :  it  is  not  found  in  any  sterile  place. 

This  fact  of  experience  is  our  link  with  the  mystics,  our 
guarantee  of  the  truthfulness  of  their  statements,  the  supreme 
importance  of  their  adventure,  their  closer  contact  with  Reality. 
The  mystics  on  their  part  are  our  guarantee  of  the  end  towards 
which  the  Immanent  Love,  the  hidden  steersman  which  dwells 
in  our  midst,  is  moving  :  our  "  lovely  forerunners  "  on  the  path 
towards  the  Real.  They  come  back  to  us  from  an  encounter 
with  life's  most  august  secret,  as  Mary  came  running  from  the 
tomb ;  filled  with  amazing  tidings  which  they  can  hardly  tell. 
We,  longing  for  some  assurance,  and  seeing  their  radiant  faces, 
urge  them  to  pass  on  their  revelation  if  they  can.  It  is  the  old 
demand  of  the  dim-sighted  and  incredulous  : — 

"  Die  nobis  Maria 
Quid  vidisti  in  via  ?  " 

But  they  cannot  say :  can  only  report  fragments  of  the  symbolic 
vision  : — 

"  Angelicos  testes,  sudarium,  et  vestes" — 

not  the  inner  content,  the  final  divine  certainty.  We  must 
ourselves  follow  in  their  footsteps  if  we  would  have  that. 

Like  the  story  of  the  Cross,  so  too  the  story  of  man's 
spirit  ends  in  a  garden :  in  a  place  of  birth  and  fruitfulness, 
of  beautiful  and  natural  things.  Divine  Fecundity  is  its  secret : 
existence,  not  for  its  own  sake,  but  for  the  sake  of  a  more 
abundant  life.  It  ends  with  the  coming  forth  of  divine 
humanity,  never  again  to  leave  us :  living  in  us  and  with 
us,  a  pilgrim,  a  worker,  a  guest  at  our  table,  a  sharer  at  all 
hazards  in  life.  The  mystics  witness  to  this  story :  waking 
very  early  they  have  run  on  before  us,  urged  by  the  greatness 
of  their  love.  We,  incapable  as  yet  of  this  sublime  encounter, 
looking  in  their  magic  mirror,  listening  to  their  stammered 
tidings,  may  see  far  off  the  consummation  of  the  race. 

According  to  the  measure  of  their  strength  and  of  their 
passion,  these,  the  true  lovers  of  the  Absolute,  have  conformed 


CONCLUSION  539 

here  and  now  to  the  utmost  tests  of  divine  sonship,  the  final 
demands  of  life.  They  have  not  shrunk  from  the  sufferings 
of  the  cross.  They  have  faced  the  darkness  of  the  tomb. 
Beauty  and  agony  alike  have  called  them  :  alike  have  awakened 
a  heroic  response.  For  them  the  winter  is  over :  the  time 
of  the  singing  of  birds  is  come.  From  the  deeps  of  the  dewy 
garden,  Life — new,  unquenchable,  and  ever  lovely — comes  to 
meet  them  with  the  dawn. 

©t  fjoc  tntellegere,  quts  tjominum  Babit  Domini? 

fl&ute  anceliw  artgelo  f 

H&U10  anc^liw  fjomini? 

a  te  petatur, 

3(n  te  quaeratur, 

3D  te  pulsetur, 
6ic,  ait  accipietur,  0tc  inbemctur,  mt  aperiettm 


APPENDIX 

A  HISTORICAL  SKETCH  OF  EUROPEAN  MYSTICISM  FROM 
THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  ERA  TO  THE 
DEATH    OF    BLAKE 

IF  we  try  to  represent  the  course  of  Mysticism  in  Europe  during  the 
Christian  period  by  the  common  device  of  a  chronological  curve, 
showing,  by  its  rises  and  falls  as  it  passes  across  the  centuries,  the 
absence  or  preponderance  in  any  given  epoch  of  mystics  and  mystical 
thought;  we  shall  find  that  the  great  periods  of  mystical  activity 
correspond  with  a  curious  exactness  with  the  great  periods  of  artistic, 
material,  and  intellectual  civilization.  Rather,  they  come  immediately 
after,  and  seem  to  complete  such  periods :  those  stupendous  outbursts 
of  vitality  in  which  man  makes  fresh  conquests  over  his  universe, 
apparently  producing  as  their  last  stage  a  type  of  heroic  character  which 
extends  these  victories  to  the  spiritual  sphere.  When  science,  politics, 
literature,  and  the  arts — the  domination  of  nature  and  the  ordering  of 
life — have  risen  to  their  height  and  produced  their  greatest  works,  the 
mystic  comes  to  the  front ;  snatches  the  torch,  and  carries  it  on.  It  is 
almost  as  if  he  were  humanity's  finest  flower;  the  product  at  which 
each  great  creative  period  of  the  race  had  aimed. 

Thus  the  thirteenth  century  expressed  to  perfection  the  mediaeval 
ideal  in  religion,  art,  philosophy,  and  public  life.  It  built  the  Gothic 
cathedrals,  put  the  finishing  touch  to  the  system  of  chivalry,  and 
nourished  the  scholastic  philosophers.  It  has  many  saints,  but  not 
very  many  mystics ;  though  they  increase  in  number  as  the  century 
draws  on.  The  fourteenth  century  is  filled  by  great  contemplatives  ; 
who  lifted  this  wave  of  activity  to  spiritual  levels,  and  brought  all  the 
romance  and  passion  of  the  mediaeval  temperament  to  bear  upon  the 
deepest  mysteries  of  the  transcendental  life.  Again,  the  sixteenth 
century,  blazing  with  an  intellectual  vitality  which  left  no  corner  of 
existence  unexplored,  which  produced  the  Renaissance  and  the 
Humanists  and  remade  the  mediaeval  world,  had  hardly  reached  its 
full  development  before  the  great  procession  of  the  post-Renaissance 

541 


542  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

mystics,  with  St.  Teresa  at  their  head,  began.  If  Life,  then — the  great 
and  restless  life  of  the  race — be  described  under  the  trite  metaphor  of  a 
billowy  sea,  each  great  wave  as  it  rises  from  the  deep  bears  the  mystic 
type  upon  its  crest. 

Our  curve,  then,  will  follow  close  behind  that  other  curve  which 
represents  the  intellectual  life  of  humanity.  Its  course  will  be  studded 
and  defined  for  us  by  the  names  of  the  great  mystics ;  the  possessors 
of  spiritual  genius,  the  pathfinders  to  the  country  of  the  soul.  These 
starry  names  are  significant  not  only  in  themselves,  but  also  as  links  in 
the  chain  of  man's  growing  spiritual  history.  They  are  not  isolated 
phenomena,  but  are  related  to  one  another.  Each  receives  something 
from  the  past :  each  by  his  personal  adventures  enriches  it,  and  hands 
it  on  to  the  future.  As  we  go  on,  we  notice  more  and  more  this  cumu- 
lative power  of  the  past.  Each  mystic,  original  though  he  be,  yet  owes 
much  to  the  inherited  acquirement  of  his  spiritual  ancestors.  These 
ancestors  form  his  tradition,  are  the  classic  examples  on  which  his 
education  is  based  ;  and  from  them  he  takes  the  language  which  they 
have  sought  out  and  constructed  as  a  means  of  telling  their  adventures 
to  the  world.  It  is  by  their  help  too,  very  often,  that  he  elucidates  for 
himself  the  meaning  of  the  dim  perceptions  of  his  amazed  soul.  From 
his  own  experiences  he  adds  to  this  store ;  and  hands  on  an  enriched 
tradition  of  the  transcendental  life  to  the  next  spiritual  genius  evolved 
by  the  race.  Hence  the  names  of  the  great  mystics  are  connected  by  a 
thread ;  and  it  becomes  possible  to  treat  them  as  subjects  of  history 
rather  than  of  biography. 

I  have  said  that  this  thread  forms  a  curve,  following  the  fluctuations 
of  the  intellectual  life  of  the  race.  At  its  highest  points,  the  names  of 
the  mystics  are  clustered  most  thickly,  at  its  descents  they  become 
fewer  and  fewer,  at  the  lowest  points  they  die  away.  Between  the  first 
century  a.d.  and  the  nineteenth,  this  curve  exhibits  three  great  waves  || 
of  mystical  activity ;  besides  many  minor  fluctuations.  They  corre- 
spond with  the  close  of  the  Classical,  the  Mediaeval  and  the  Renaissance 
periods  in  history  :  reaching  their  highest  points  in  the  third,  fourteenth, 
and  seventeenth  centuries.  In  one  respect,  however,  the  mystic  curve 
diverges  from  the  historical  one.  It  rises  to  its  highest  point  in  the  I 
fourteenth  century,  and  does  not  again  approach  the  level  it  there 
attains ;  for  the  mediaeval  period  was  more  favourable  to  the  develop- 
ment of  mysticism  than  any  subsequent  epoch  has  been.  The  four- 
teenth century  is  as  much  the  classic  moment  for  the  spiritual  history 
of  our  race  as  the  thirteenth  is  for  the  history  of  Gothic,  or  the 
fifteenth  for  that  of  Italian  art. 

The  names  upon  our  curve,  especially  during  the  first  ten  centuries 


APPENDIX  543 

of  the  Christian  era,  are  often  separated  by  long  periods  of  time.  This, 
of  course,  does  not  necessarily  mean  that  these  centuries  produced  few 
mystics  :  merely  that  few  documents  relating  to  them  have  survived. 
We  have  now  no  means  of  knowing,  for  instance,  the  amount  of  the  true 
mysticism  which  undoubtedly  existed  amongst  the  initiates  of  the  Greek 
or  Egyptian  Mysteries ;  how  many  inarticulate  contemplatives  of  the 
first  rank  there  were  amongst  the  Alexandrian  Neoplatonists,  amongst 
the  pre-Christian  communities  of  contemplatives  described  by  Philo, 
the  deeply  mystical  Alexandrian  Jew  (b.c.  20-A.D.  40),  the  innumer- 
able Gnostic  sects  which  replaced  in  the  early  Christian  world  the 
Orphic  and  Dionysiac  mystery-cults  of  Greece  and  Italy,  or  later,  the 
thousands  of  monks  and  hermits  who  peopled  the  Egyptian  Thebaid 
in  the  sixth  and  seventh  centuries.  Some  real  mystical  inspiration  there 
must  have  been,  for  we  know  that  from  these  centres  of  life  came 
many  of  the  doctrines  best  loved  by  later  mystics  :  that  the  Neo- 
platonists gave  them  the  concepts  of  Pure  Being  and  the  One,  that  the 
New  Birth  and  the  Spiritual  Marriage  were  foreshadowed  in  the 
Mysteries,  that  Philo  anticipates  the  theology  of  the  Fourth  Gospel. 

As  we  stand  at  the  beginning  of  the  Christian  period  we  see  three 
great  sources  whence  its  mystical  tradition  might  have  been  derived. 
These  sources  are  Greek,  Oriental,  and  Christian — i.e.,  primitive 
Apostolic — doctrine  or  thought.  As  a  matter  of  fact  all  contributed 
their  share:  but  Christianity,  destined  to  absorb  the  virtue  of  both 
the  others,  seems  at  first  to  have  given  least.  Of  course  the  Chris- 
tian religion,  by  its  very  nature,  must  always  have  had  its  mystical 
side.  Putting  the  personality  of  its  Founder  outside  the  limits  of  the 
present  discussion,  St.  Paul  and  the  author  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  are 
obvious  instances  of  mystics  of  the  first  rank  amongst  its  earliest 
missionaries.  The  inner  history  of  primitive  Christianity  is  still  in 
confusion ;  but  in  what  has  been  already  made  out  we  find  numerous, 
if  scattered,  indications  that  the  mystic  life",  was  indigenous  in  the  Church 
and  the  natural  mystic  had  little  need  to  look  for  inspiration  outside  the 
limits  of  his  creed.  Not  only  the  epistles  of  St.  Paul  and  the  Johannine 
writings,  but  also  the  earliest  liturgic  fragments4  which  we  possess,  and 
such  primitive  religious  poetry  as  the  "  Odes  of  Solomon  "  and  the 
"  Hymn  of  Jesus,"  show  how  congenial  was  mystical  expression  to  the 
mind  of  the  Church  :  how  eagerly  that  Church  absorbed  and  trans- 
muted the  mystic  element  of  Essene,  Orphic,  and  Neoplatonic  thought. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  second  century  this  tendency  received  bril- 
liant literary  expression  at  the  hands  of  St.  Clement  of  Alexandria 
{c.  160-220),  who  first  adapted  the  language  of  the  pagan  Mysteries  to 
the  Christian  theory  of  the  spiritual  life.     Nevertheless,  the  first  person 


544  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

after  St.  Paul  of  whom  it  can  now  be  decisively  stated  that  he  was  a 
practical  mystic  of  the  first  rank,  and  in  whose  writings  the  central 
mystic  doctrine  of  union  with  God  is  found,  is  a  pagan.  That  person 
is  Plotinus,  the  great  Neoplatonic  philosopher  of  Alexandria  (a.d. 
205-^.  270).  His  mysticism  owes  nothing  to  the  Christian  religion, 
of  which  he  was  a  determined  opponent.  Intellectually  it  contains 
elements  drawn  from  Platonic  philosophy,  from  the  Mysteries,  and 
probably  from  the  Oriental  cults  and  philosophies  which  ran  riot  in 
Alexandria  in  the  third  century.  These  things,  however,  merely  served 
Plotinus  on  his  mystical  side  as  a  means  of  expressing  as  much  of  his 
own  sublime  experience  as  he  chose  to  tell  the  world.  Ostensibly  a 
metaphysician,  he  possessed  transcendental  genius  of  a  high  order : 
and  was  consumed  by  a  burning  passion  for  the  Absolute.  He  has  left 
it  on  record  that  he  attained  three  times  in  his  life  to  ecstatic  union 
with  "the  One." 

The  Neoplatonism  of  which  Plotinus   was   the  greatest  exponent 
became  the  vehicle  in  which  most  of  the  mysticism — both  Christian 
and  pagan — of  the  first  six  centuries  was  expressed.     But,  since  the 
emergence  of  mysticism  always  means  the  emergence  of  a  certain  type 
of  character  or  genius,  not  the  emergence  of  a  certain  type  of  philo- 
sophy,  Neoplatonism  as  a  whole,  and  the   mysticism  which  used  its 
language,  must  not  be  identified  with  one  another.     Thus  Porphyry 
(233-304),  the  pupil  and  biographer  of  Plotinus,  inherits  his  master's 
philosophy,  but  not   his   mysticism.      Neoplatonism  as  a  whole  wasj 
a  confused,  semi-religious  philosophy;  containing  many  inconsistent1, 
elements.    Appearing  at  the  moment  in  which  the  wreck  of  paganism  was 
complete,  but  before  Christianity  had  conquered  the  educated  world, 
it  made  a  strong  appeal  to  the  spiritually  minded ;  and  also  to  those 
who  hankered  after  the   mysterious  and  the  occult.     It   taught   the  1 
illusory  nature  of  all  temporal  things,  and  in  the  violence  of  its  idealism 
outdid  its  master  Plato.     It  also  taught  the  existence  of  an  Absolute 
God,  the  "  Unconditioned  One,"  who  might  be  known  in  ecstasy  and  i 
contemplation ;  and  here  it   made  a   direct   appeal   to   the   mystical  - 
instincts  of  men.     Those  natural  mystics  who  lived  in  the  time  of  its 
greatest  popularity  found  in  it  therefore  a  ready  means  of  expressing 
their  own  intuitions  of  reality.     Hence  it  is  that  the  early  mysticism 
of  Europe,  both  Christian  and  pagan,  has  come  down  to  us  in  a  Neo- 
platonic dress ;  and  speaks  the  tongue  of  Alexandria  rather  than  that 
of  Jerusalem,  Athens,  or  Rome. 

The  influence  of  Plotinus  upon  later  Christian  mysticism  was 
enormous  though  indirect.  During  the  patristic  period  all  that  was 
best  in  the  spirit  of  Neoplatonism  flowed  into  the  veins  of  the  Church. 


APPENDIX  545 

St.  Augustine  (ad.   354-43°)  and   Dionysius   the   Areopagite 

(writing  between  475  and  525)  are  amongst  his  spiritual  children. 
So  too  is  Proclus  (412-c.  490),  the  last  of  the  pagan  philosophers. 
Through  these  there  is  hardly  one  in  the  long  tale  of  the  European 
contemplatives  whom  his  powerful  spirit  has  failed  to  reach. 

The  mysticism  of  St.  Augustine  is  partly  obscured  for  us  by  the 
wealth  of  his  intellectual  and  practical  life :  yet  no  one  can  read  the 
"  Confessions  "  without  being  struck  by  the  intensity  and  actuality  of 
his  spiritual  experience,  and  the  characteristically  mystical  formulae 
under  which  he  apprehended  Reality.  In  the  period  in  which  he 
composed  this  work  it  is  clear  that  he  was  already  an  advanced 
contemplative.  The  marvellous  intellectual  activities  by  which  he  is 
best  remembered  were  fed  by  the  solitary  adventures  of  his  soul.  No 
merely  literary  genius  could  have  produced  the  wonderful  chapters  in 
the  seventh  and  eighth  books,  or  the  innumerable  detached  passages  in 
which  his  passion  for  the  Absolute  breaks  out :  and  later  mystics, 
recognizing  this  fact,  will  be  found  to  appeal  again  and  again  to  his 
authority. 

The  influence  of  St.  Augustine  on  the  later  history  of  mysticism, 
though  very  great,  was  nothing  in  comparison  with  that  exercised  by 
the  writings  of  the  strange  and  nameless  character  who  chose  to  ascribe 
his  works  to  Dionysius  the  Areopagite,  the  friend  of  St.  Paul,  and  to 
address  his  letters  upon  mysticism  to  Paul's  fellow-worker,  Timothy. 
The  pseudo-Dionysius  was  probably  a  Syrian  monk.  The  fact  that  he 
quotes  the  works  of  Origen  proves  that  he  cannot  have  written  before 
a.d.  475  ;  it  is  most  likely  that  he  flourished  in  the  early  part  of  the 
sixth  century.  His  chief  works  are  the  treatises  on  the  Angelic 
Hierarchies  and  on  the  Names  of  God,  and  a  short  but  priceless  tract 
on  mystical  theology.  Few  persons  now  look  at  the  works  of  Diony- 
sius :  but  from  the  ninth  century  to  the  seventeenth  they  nourished  the 
most  spiritual  intuitions  of  men,  and  possessed  an  authority  which  it 
is  now  hard  to  realize.  In  studying  mediaeval  mysticism  one  has  always 
to  reckon  with  him.  Particularly  in  the  fourteenth  century,  the  golden 
age  of  mystical  literature,  the  phrase  "Dionysius  saith"  is  of  continual 
recurrence :  and  has  for  those  who  use  it  much  the  same  weight  as 
quotations  from  the  Bible  or  the  great  fathers  of  the  Church. 

The  importance  of  Dionysius  lies  in  the  fact  that  he  was  the  first, 
and  for  a  long  time  the  only  Christian  writer  who  attempted  to  describe 
frankly  and  accurately  the  workings  of  the  mystical  consciousness,  and 
the  nature  of  its  ecstatic  attainment  of  God.  So  well  did  he  do  his 
work  that  later  contemplatives,  reading  him,  found  their  most  sublime 
and  amazing  experiences  reflected  and  partly  explained.     Hence  in 

NN 


546  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

describing  those  experiences,  they  adopted  in  their  turn  his  language 
and  metaphors ;  which  afterwards  became  the  classic  terms  of  contem- 
plative science.  To  him  Christian  literature  owes  the  paradoxical 
concept  of  the  Absolute  Godhead  as  the  "  Divine  Dark,"  the  Uncon- 
ditioned, "the  negation  of  all  that  is" — i.e.,  of  all  that  the  surface- 
consciousness  perceives — and  of  the  soul's  attainment  of  the  Absolute v 
as  a  "divine  ignorance,"  a  way  of  negation.  This  idea  is  common  to 
Greek  and  Indian  philosophy.  With  Dionysius  it  enters  the  Catholic 
fold. 

Whilst  he  gave  a  Christian  significance  to  the  most  mystical  aspects 
of  Neoplatonism,  much  of  his  teaching  is  clearly  founded  upon  per- 
sonal experience,  not  upon  metaphysical  speculations.  Taken  in  its 
entirety  it  probably  represents  a  mystical  tradition  current  in  the  Syrian 
convents  and  partly  derived  from  Oriental  sources  :  but  this  tradition 
has  passed  through  the  temperament  of  a  great  natural  mystic  in  the 
course  of  attaining  to  literary  expression. 

The  Patristic  period  terminates  with  the  life  of  the  saintly  Pope 
Gregory  the  Great  (540-604).  In  his  works,  influenced  though  they 
were  by  the  Greek  fathers,  there  first  emerges  that  sober  and  orderly 
mystical  doctrine,  destined  to  be  characteristic  of  the  Roman  Church. 
He  was  much  read  by  succeeding  contemplatives ;  his  practical  counsels 
counter-balancing  the  intense  Neoplatonism  of  Dionysius,  whose  works 
were  translated  from  Greek  into  Latin  about  a.d.  850  by  the  great  Irish 
philosopher  and  theologian,  John  Scotus  Erigena,  one  of  the  scholars 
assembled  at  the  court  of  Charlemagne.  From  this  event  we  must 
date  the  beginning  of  a  full  tradition  of  mysticism  in  Western  Europe. 
John  the  Scot,  many  of  whose  own  writings  exhibit  a  strong  mystical 
bias,  is  the  only  name  in  this  period  which  the  history  of  mysticism  can 
claim.  We  are  on  the  descending  line  of  the  "  Dark  Ages  " :  and  here 
the  curve  of  mysticism  runs  parallel  with  the  curves  of  intellectual  and 
artistic  activity. 

During  the  eleventh  century  the  arts  revived  :  and  by  the  beginning 
of  the  twelfth  tke  wave  of  new  life  had  reached  the  mystic  level. 
France  now  made  the  first  of  her  many  contributions  to  the  history 
of  mysticism  in  the  person  of  St.  Bernard  (1091-1153),  the  great 
Abbot  of  Clairvaux  :  and  was  the  adopted  country  of  another  mystic 
almost  as  great,  though  now  less  famous :  the  Scotch  or  Irish  Richard 
Of  St.  Victor  {pb.  c.  1 1 73),  whom  Dante  held  to  be  "  in  contemplation 
more  than  man."  Richard's  master  and  contemporary,  the  scholastic 
philosopher  Hugh  (1097-1 141)  of  the  same  Abbey  of  St.  Victor  at  Paris, 
is  also  generally  reckoned  amongst  the  mystics  of  this  period,  but  with 
less  reason ;  since  contemplation  occupies  a  small  place  in  his  theological 


APPENDIX  547 

writings.  In  spite  of  the  deep  respect  which  is  shown  towards  him 
by  Aquinas  and  other  theologians,  Hugh's  influence  on  later  mystical; 
literature  was  slight.  The  spirit  of  Richard  and  of  St.  Bernard,  on  the 
contrary,  was  destined  to  dominate  it  for  the  next  two  hundred  years. 
With  them  the  literature  of  mediaeval  mysticism,  properly  so  called, 
begins. 

This  literature  falls  into  two  classes  :  the  autobiographical  and  the 
didactic.  Sometimes,  as  happens  in  a  celebrated  sermon  of  St.  Ber- 
nard, the  two  are  combined ;  the  teacher  appealing  to  his  own  experi- 
ence in  illustration  of  his  theme. 

In  the  works  of  the  Victorines,  the  attitude  is  purely  didactic  :  one 
might  almost  say  scientific.  In  them,  mysticism — that  is  to  say,  the 
degrees  of  contemplation,  the  training  and  exercise  of  the  spiritual 
sense — takes  its  place  as  a  recognized  department  of  theology.  It  is, 
in  Richard's  favourite  symbolism,  "  Benjamin,"  the  beloved  child  of 
Rachel,  emblem  of  the  Contemplative  Life  :  and  in  his  two  chief 
works,  "  Benjamin  Major  "  and  "  Benjamin  Minor,"  it  is  classified  and 
described  in  all  its  branches,  with  a  wealth  of  allegorical  detail  which 
too  often  obscures  the  real  beauties  and  ardours  beneath.  Richard 
of  St.  Victor  was  one  of  the  chief  channels  through  whom  the  antique 
mystical  tradition,  which  flowed  through  Plotinus  and  the  Areopagite, 
was  transmitted  to  the  mediaeval  world.  In  his  hands,  that  tradition 
was  codified.  Like  his  master,  Hugh,  he  had  the  mediaeval  passion 
for  elaborate  allegory,  neat  arrangement,  rigid  classification  and  signifi- 
cant numbers  in  things.  As  Dante  parcelled  out  Heaven,  Purgatory, 
and  Hell  with  mathematical  precision,  and  proved  that  Beatrice  was 
herself  a  Nine ;  so  these  writers  divide  and  subdivide  the  stages  of 
contemplation,  the  states  of  the  soul,  the  degrees  of  Divine  Love  :  and 
perform  terrible  tours  deforce  in  the  course  of  compelling  all  the  living 
spontaneous  and  ever-variable  expressions  of  man's  spiritual  vitality  to 
fall  into  orderly  and  parallel  series,  conformable  to  the  mystic  numbers 
of  Seven,  Four,  and  Three. 

The  same  baneful  passion  obscures  for  modern  readers  the  real 
merits  of  St.  Bernard,  though  it  did  but  enhance  his  reputation  with 
those  for  whom  he  wrote.  His  writings,  and  those  of  Richard  of 
St.  Victor,  quickly  took  their  place  amongst  the  living  forces  which 
conditioned  the  development  of  later  mystics.  Both  have  a  special 
interest  for  us  in  the  fact  that  they  influenced  the  formation  of  our 
national  school  of  mysticism  in  the  fourteenth  century.  Translations 
and  paraphrases  of  the  "  Benjamin  Major,"  "  Benjamin  Minor,"  and 
other  works  of  Richard  of  St.  Victor,  and  of  various  tracts  and  epistles 
of  St.  Bernard,  are  constantly  met  with  in  the  MS.  collections  of  mys- 


548         AN   INTRODUCTION   TO   MYSTICISM 

tical  and  theological  literature  written  in  England  in  the  thirteenth  and 
fourteenth  centuries.  An  early  translation  of  the  "Benjamin  Minor," 
sometimes  attributed  to  the  "  father  of  English  mysticism,"  Richard 
feoU^  was  probably  made  by  the  anonymous  author  of  the  "Cloud  of 
Unknowing,"  who  was  also  responsible  for  the  first  appearance  of  the 
Areopagite  in  English  dress. 

The  curve  of  mystical  life,  then,  travelling  through  the  centuries,  has 
moved,  like  all  waves  of  spiritual  vitality,  from  east  to  west.  By  the 
twelfth  century  it  has  reached  France :  and  shown,  in  the  persons  of 
Richard  of  St.  Victor  and  St.  Bernard,  at  once  the  intellectual  and 
political  strength  of  the  mystic  type.  At  the  same  time  there  appear 
in  Germany  the  first  of  the  long  line  of  women  mystics ;  the  first,  at 
any  rate,  whose  literary    works  and  authentic  records  have  survived. 

With  St.  Hildegarde  (i  098-1 179)  and  St.  Elizabeth  of  Schoenau 
(n  38-1 165)  the  history  of  German  mysticism  begins.  These  remark- 
able women,  visionaries,  prophetesses,  and  political  reformers,  are  the 
early  representatives  of  a  type  of  mysticism  of  which  St.  Catherine  of 
Siena  is  the  most  familiar  and  perhaps  the  greatest  example.  Exalted 
by  the  strength  of  their  spiritual  intuitions,  they  emerged  from  an 
obscure  life  to  impose  their  wills,  and  their  reading  of  events,  upon  the 
world.  From  the  point  of  view  of  Eternity,  in  whose  light  they  lived, 
they  attacked  the  corruption  of  their  generation.  Already  in  the 
inspired  letters  which  St.  Hildegarde  sent  like  firebrands  over 
Europe,  we  see  German  idealism  and  German  practicality  struggling 
together;  the  unflinching  description  of  abuses,  the  vast  poetic 
vision  by  which  they  are  condemned.  These  qualities  are  seen  again 
in  the  South  German  mystics  of  the  next  century :  the  four  Benedic- 
tine women  of  genius,  who  had  their  home  in  the  convent  of  Helfde. 
These  are  the  Nun  Gertrude  (Abbess  1251-1291)  and  her  sister  St. 
Mechthild  of  Hackborn  (ob.  13 10),  with  her  sublime  symbolic 
visions :  then,  the  poet  of  the  group,  the  exquisite  Mechthild  of 
Magdeburg  (12 12-1299),  wno>  first  a  beguine  at  Magdeburg,  where 
she  wrote  the  greater  part  of  "  The  Flowing  Light  of  the  Godhead," 
came  to  Helfde  in  1268;  lastly  the  celebrated  St.  Gertrude  the 
Great  (1 256-131 1).  In  these  contemplatives  the  political  spirit  is  less 
marked  than  in  St.  Hildegarde  :  but  religious  and  ethical  activity  takes 
its  place.  St.  Gertrude  the  Great  is  a  characteristic  Catholic  visionary 
of  the  feminine  type  :  absorbed  in  her  subjective  experiences,  her  often 
beautiful  and  significant  dreams,  her  loving  conversations  with  Christ 
and  the  Blessed  Virgin.  Close  to  her  in  temperament  is  St.  Mech- 
thild of  Hackborn ;  but  her  attitude  as  a  whole  is  more  impersonal, 
more   truly  mystic.     The  great  symbolic  visions  in  which   her  most 


APPENDIX  549 

spiritual  perceptions  are  expressed  are  artistic  creations  rather  than 
psycho-sensorial  hallucinations,  and  dwell  little  upon  the  humanity  of 
Christ,  with  which  St.  Gertrude  is  constantly  occupied.  The  terms  in 
which  Mechthild  of  Magdeburg — an  educated  and  well-born  woman, 
half  poet,  half  seer — describes  her  union  with  God,  are  intensely 
individual,  and  apparently  owe  little  to  earlier  religious  writers. 
The  works  of  this  Mechthild,  early  translated  into  Latin,  were  read  by 
Dante.  Their  influence  is  traceable  in  the  "  Paradiso  "  ;  and  by  some 
scholars  she  is  believed  to  be  the  Matilda  of  his  Earthly  Paradise, 
though  others  give  this  position  to  her  sister-mystic,  St.  Mechthild 
of  Hackborn. 

Another  precursor  of  Dante  begins  for  us  the  history  of  Italian 
mysticism  :  St.  Francis  of  Assisi,  poet  and  mystic  (i  182-1226),  one 
of  the  greatest  figures  of  the  mediaeval  world.  It  might  truly  be  said  of 
St.  Francis,  as  was  untruly  said  of  his  disciple  St.  Bonaventura,  that  all 
his  learning  was  comprised  in  the  crucifix.  His  mysticism  owed 
much  to  nature,  nothing  to  tradition ;  was  untouched  by  the  formative 
influence  of  monastic  discipline,  the  writings  of  Dionysius  and  St.  Ber- 
nard. It  was  the  spontaneous  and  original  expression  of  his  person- 
ality, the  rare  personality  of  a  poet  of  the  Infinite,  a  "  troubadour  of 
God."  It  showed  itself  in  his  few  poems,  his  sayings,  above  all  in  his 
life  :  the  material  in  which  his  genius  expressed  itself  best.  He  walked, 
literally,  in  an  enchanted  world ;  where  every  living  thing  was  a  theo- 
phany,  and  all  values  were  transvaluated  by  love. 

None  of  those  who  came  after  him  succeeded  in  recapturing  his 
secret,  which  was  the  secret  of  spiritual  genius  of  the  rarest  type :  but 
he  left  his  mark  upon  the  history  of  Europe  and  the  influence  of  his 
spirit  has  never  wholly  died.  Italian  mysticism  descends  from  St. 
Francis,  and  in  its  first  period  seems  indeed  to  be  the  prerogative  of 
his  friars.  In  the  thirteenth  century  we  see  it,  in  all  its  detachment, 
freshness,  and  spontaneity,  in  four  very  different  temperaments.  First 
in  St.  BonaYentura  (1221-1274),  biographer  of  St.  Francis,  a  theo- 
logian and  doctor  of  the  Church.  Perhaps  the  least  mystical  of  the 
four,  he  has  had  the  greatest  influence  on  later  mystics.  He  combined 
a  contemplative  nature  with  considerable  intellectual  powers.  A 
student  of  Dionysius,  whose  influence  pervades  his  writings,  it  was  he 
who  brought  the  new  spirit  into  line  with  the  tradition  of  the  past. 
Next,  in  the  beautiful  figure  of  St.  Douceline  (n.  12 14),  the  lady  of 
Genoa  turned  beguine^  we  find  a  spirit  which,  like  that  of  its  master, 
could  find  its  way  to  the  Divine  through  flowers  and  birds  and  simple 
natural  things.  The  third  of  these  Franciscan  contemplatives,  Jaco- 
pone   da   Todi    (ob.    1306),   the   converted   lawyer    turned   mystical 


1 


550  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

poet,  lifts  Franciscan  mysticism  to  the  heights  of  ecstatic  rapture  and 
of  literary  expression.  Jacopone's  work  has  been  shown  by  Von 
Hugel  to  have  had  a  formative  influence  on  St.  Catherine  of  Genoa ; 
and  has  probably  affected  many  other  Italian  mystics . 

The  Blessed  Angela  of  Foligno  (i  248-1309),  last  of  the  four  in 
time  though  not  in  importance,  was  converted  from  a  sinful  life  to 
become  a  tertiary  hermit  of  the  Franciscan  order ;  and  has  left  in  her 
"  Divine  Consolations  "  the  record  of  a  series  of  profoundly  significant 
visions  and  intuitions  of  truth.  By  the  sixteenth  century  her  works, 
translated  into  the  vernacular,  had  taken  their  place  amongst  the 
classics  of  mysticism.  In  the  seventeenth  they  were  largely  used  by 
St.  Ffancis  de  Sales,  Madame  Guyon,  and  other  Catholic  contempla- 
tives.  Seventeen  years  older  than  Dante,  whose  great  genius  properly 
closes  this  line  of  spiritual  descent,  she  is  a  link  between  the  thirteenth 
and  fourteenth  centuries  in  Italian  mysticism. 

We  now  approach  the  Golden  Age  of  Mysticism :  and  at  the-^ 
opening  of  that  epoch,  dominating  it  by  their  genius,  stand  that 
astonishing  pair  of  friends,  St.  Bonaventura,  the  Franciscan,  and  St. 
Thomas  Aquinas,  the  Dominican  (1226-12  74).  As  with  St. 
Augustine,  the  intellectual  greatness  of  St.  Thomas  has  obscured  his 
mystical  side.  Hence  it  is  commonly  stated  that  fourteenth-century 
mysticism  derives  from  St.  Bonaventura,  and  represents  an  opposition 
to  scholastic  theology ;  but  as  a  matter  of  fact  its  greatest  personalities 
— in  particular  Dante  and  the  German  Dominican  school — are  soaked 
in  t&e  spirit  of  Aquinas,  and  quote  his  authority  at  every  turn. 

Most  of  the  mystical  literature  of  the  late  thirteenth  and  early  four- 
teenth centuries  is  still  in  MS.,  and  much  probably  remains  unidentified. 
An  interesting  example  has  lately  come  to  light  in  "  The  Mirror  of 
Simple  Souls  " ;  a  long  treatise,  translated  and  edited  by  an  unknown 
English  contemplative  in  the  late  fourteenth  or  early  fifteenth  century 
from  a  lost  French  original,  which  was  probably  written  under 
Franciscan  influence  between  the  years  1 280-1 309.  The  Mirror, 
which  its  prologue  declares  to  be  full  of  "high  ghostly  cunning" 
dangerous  for  common  men,  is  certainly  a  piece  of  mystical  literature  of 
an  advanced  kind.  Strongly  influenced  by  Dionysius,  by  Richard  of 
St.  Victor,  and  by  St.  Bonaventura,  it  probably  influenced  in  its  turn 
the  English  writers  who  produced  in  the  next  century  "  The  Cloud  of 
Unknowing  "  and  other  profound  treatises  upon  the  inner  life  :  and 
these  are  in  fact  the  works  which  most  nearly  resemble  it  in  substance, 
though  its  manner  is  its  own. 

With  "The  Mirror  of  Simple  Souls"  we  bridge  not  only  the  gap 
between  the  mysticism  of  England  and  of  France,  but  also  that  be- 


1 


APPENDIX  551 

tween  the  thirteenth  and  fourteenth  centuries.  In  Europe  the  mystic 
curve  is  now  approaching  its  highest  point.  In  the  East,  that  point 
has  already  been  passed.  Sufi,  or  Mahommedan  mysticism,  appearing 
in  the  ninth  century,  attains  literary  expression  in  the  twelfth  in  the 
Confessions  of  Al  Ghazzali,  and  has  its  classic  period  in  the  thirteenth 
in  the  works  of  the  mystic  poets  'Attar  {c.  1 140-1234),  Sadi  (1184- 
1263),  and  the  saintly  Jelalu  'd  'Din  (1207-12 73).  Its  tradition  is 
continued  in  the  fourteenth  century  by  the  rather  erotic  mysticism  of 
HaHz  {c.  1 300-1 388)  and  his  successors:  and  in  the  fifteenth  by  the 
poet  Jam!  (1414-1492). 

Whilst  Hafiz  already  strikes  a  note  of  decadence  for  the  mysticism 
of  Islam,  the  year  1300  is  for  Europe  a  vital  year  in  the  history  of  the 
spiritual  life.  In  Italy,  England,  Germany,  and  Flanders  mystics  of 
the  first  rank  are  appearing,  or  about  to  appear.  In  Italy  Dante 
(1 265-1 321)  is  forcing  human  language  to  express  one  of  the  most 
sublime  visions  of  the  Absolute  which  has  ever  been  crystallized  into 
speech.  He  inherits  and  fuses  into  one  that  loving  and  artistic  read- 
ing of  reality  which  was  the  heart  of  Franciscan  mysticism,  and  that 
other  ordered  vision  of  the  transcendental  world  which  the  Dominicans 
through  Aquinas  poured  into  the  stream  of  European  thought.  For 
the  one  the  spiritual  world  was  all  love  :  for  the  other  all  law.  For  Dante 
it  was  both .  In  the  "  Paradiso  "  his  stupendous  genius  apprehends 
and  shows  to  us  a  Beatific  Vision  in  which  the  symbolic  systems  of  all 
great  mystics,  and  many  whom  the  world  does  not  call  mystics — of 
Dionysius,  Richard,  St.  Bernard,  Mechthild,  Aquinas,  and  countless 
others — are  included  and  explained. 

In  Germany  at  the  moment  when  the  "  Commedia "  was  being 
written,  another  mighty  personality,  the  great  Dominican  scholar 
Meister  Eckhart  (1 260-1 329),  who  resembles  Dante  in  his  combina- 
tion of  mystical  insight  with  intense  intellectual  power,  was  laying  the 
foundations  at  once  of  German  philosophy  and  German  mysticism. 
These  two  giants  stand  side  by  side  at  the  opening  of  the  century, 
perfect  representatives  of  the  Teutonic  and  Latin  instinct  for  tran- 
scendental reality. 

Eckhart,  though  only  a  few  years  younger  than  St.  Gertrude  the 
Great,  seems  to  belong  to  a  different  world.  His  commanding  per- 
sonality, his  strange  genius  for  the  supra-sensible,  moulded  and 
inspired  all  whom  it  came  near.  The  German  and  Flemish  mystics  of 
the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries,  differing  enormously  in  tempera- 
ment from  their  master  and  from  each  other,  have  yet  something 
,in  common:  something  which  is  shared  by  no  other  school.  This 
something  is  derived  from  Eckhart ;  for  one  and  all  have  passed  under 


552  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

his  hand,  being  either  his  immediate  disciples,  or  the  friends  or 
pupils  of  his  disciples.  Towards  the  end  of  his  life  he  fell  into 
disgrace.  A  number  of  propositions  extracted  from  his  writings,  and 
representing  his  more  extreme  views,  were  condemned  by  the  Church 
as  savouring  of  pantheism  and  other  heresies :  and  certainly  the 
violence  and  daring  of  his  language  easily  laid  him  open  to  miscon- 
struction. In  his  efforts  to  speak  of  the  unspeakable  he  was  con-,- 
stantly  betrayed  into  expressions  which,  though  doubtless  as  near  as  he 
could  get  to  his  sublime  intuitions  of  the  Absolute,  were  bound  to 
seem  paradoxical  and  exaggerated  to  other  men.  Eckhart's  influence, 
however,  was  little  hurt  by  ecclesiastical  condemnation.  His  pupils, 
though  they  remained  loyal  Catholics,  contrived  also  to  be  loyal  dis- 
ciples, and  to  the  end  of  their  lives  their  teaching  was  coloured — often 
inspired — by  the  doctrines  of  the  great,  if  heretical,  scholar. 

The  contrast  in  type  between  Eckhart  and  his  two  most  famous 
disciples  is  an  interesting  one.  All  three  were  Dominican  friars,  all 
were  devout  followers  of  St.  Augustine,  the  Areopagite,  St.  Bernard, 
and  Aquinas :  all  lived  and  worked  in  the  valley  of  the  Rhine.  The 
mysticism  of  Eckhart,  so  far  as  he  allows  us  to  see  it  in  his  sermons — 
the  only  literary  works  he  has  left — is  objective ;  one  might  almost  say 
dogmatic.  He  describes  with  an  air  of  almost  terrible  certainty  and 
intimacy,  not  that  which  he  has  felt,  but  the  place  or  plane  of  being 
he  has  known — "the  desert  of  the  Godhead  where  no  one  is  at  home." 
He  is  a  learned  mystic.  A  great  scholar,  a  natural  metaphysician,  he 
had  taught  in  the  schools  at  Paris  and  Cologne :  and  his  sermons, 
though  addressed  to  the  people  and  delivered  in  German,  give 
evidence  of  his  culture  at  every  turn. 

Of  his  two  pupils,  John  Tauler  {c.  1300-1361),  friar-preacher  of 
Strassburg,  was  a  born  missionary :  a  man  who  combined  with  great 
theological  learning  and  mystical  genius  of  a  high  order  an  overwhelming 
zeal  for  souls.  He  laboured  incessantly  to  awaken  men  to  a  sense  of 
their  transcendental  heritage.  Without  the  hard  intellectualism  occa- 
sionally noticeable  in  Eckhart,  or  the  tendency  to  introspection  and 
the  excessive  artistic  sensibility  of  Suso,  Tauler  is  the  most  virile  of  the 
German  mystics.  The  breadth  of  his  humanity  is  only  equalled  by 
the  depth  of  his  spirituality.  His  sermons — and  these  are  his  only 
'authentic  works — are  trumpet-calls  to  heroic  action  upon  spiritual 
levels.  They  influenced  many  later  mystics,  especially  St.  Teresa  and 
St.  John  of  the  Cross.  Tauler  is  not  a  subjective  writer:  only  by 
implication  can  we  assure  ourselves  that  he  speaks  from  personal 
experience.  He  has  sometimes,  and  most  unfairly,  been  des- 
cribed as   a  precursor  of    the    Reformation.      Such   a   claim   could 


APPENDIX  553 

only  be  made  by  those  who  look  upon  all  pure  Christianity  as  a  form 
of  Protestant  heresy.  He  attacked,  like  St.  Catherine  of  Siena  and 
many  other  mediaeval  mystics,  the  ecclesiastical  corruption  of  his 
period  :  but  in  the  matter  of  belief  his  writings,  if  read  in  unex- 
purgated  editions,  prove  him  to  have  been  a  fervent  and  orthodox 
Catholic. 

Tauler  was  one  of  the  leading  spirits  in  the  great  informal  society 
of  the  Friends  of  God,  which  sprang  into  being  in  Strassburg,  spread 
through  the  Rhenish  province,  and  worked  in  this  moment  of  religious 
decadence  for  the  spiritual  regeneration  of  the  people.  In  a  spirit  of 
fierce  enthusiasm  and  whole-hearted  devotion,  the  Friends  of  God  set 
themselves  to  the  mystic  life,  as  the  only  life  worthy  of  the  name.  A 
tremendous  outburst  of  transcendental  activity  took  place:  many 
visions  and  ecstasies  were  reported :  amazing  conversions  occurred. 
The  movement  had  many  features  in  common  with  that  of  the 
Quakers,  excepting  that  it  took  place  within,  instead  of  without,  the 
official  Church.  With  it  was  connected  the  third  of  the  trio  of  great 
German  Dominican  mystics,  the  Blessed  Henry  Suso  (c.  1 300-1 365), 
a  natural  recluse  and  ascetic,  and  a  visionary  of  the  most  exuberant 
Catholic  type. 

To  Suso,  subjective,  romantic,  deeply  interested  in  his  own  soul 
and  his  personal  relation  with  God,  mysticism  was  not  so  much  a 
doctrine  to  be  imparted  to  other  men,  as  an  intimate  personal  ad- 
venture. In  his  autobiography — a  human  document  far  more  detailed 
and  ingenuous  than  St.  Teresa's  more  celebrated  Life — he  has  left  us 
the  record  of  all  his  griefs  and  joys,  his  pains,  visions,  ecstasies,  and 
miseries.  Even  his  mystical  treatises  are  in  dialogue  form,  as  if  he 
could  hardly  get  away  from  the  personal  and  dramatic  aspect  of  the 
spiritual  life. 

Around  these  three — Eckhart,  Tauler,  Suso — are  gathered  other 
and  more  shadowy  personalities  :  members  of  this  mystical  society  of 
the  Friends  of  God,  bound  to  the  heroic  attempt  to  bring  life — the 
terribly  corrupt  and  disordered  religious  life  of  the  fourteenth  century 
— back  into  relation  with  spiritual  reality,  to  initiate  their  neighbours 
into  the  atmosphere  of  God.  From  one  of  these  nameless  members 
comes  the  literary  jewel  of  the  movement :  the  beautiful  little  treatise 
called  the  "  Theologia  Germanica,"  one  of  the  most  successful  of  many 
attempts  to  make  mystic  principles  available  for  common  men.  Others 
are  known  to  us  only  as  the  authors  of  letters,  descriptions  of  conver- 
sions, visions,  and  spiritual  adventures — literature  which  the  Friends 
of  God  produced  in  enormous  quantities.  No  part  of  the  history  of 
mysticism  has  been  more  changed  by  recent  research  than  that  of  the 


554  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

Rhenish  school :  and  the  work  is  still  but  partly  done.  At  present  we 
can  only  record  the  principal  names  which  we  find  connected  with  the 
mystical  propaganda  of  the  Friends  of  God .  These  are  first  the  nuns 
Margaret  Ebner  (1291-1351)  and  her  sister  Christina,  important 
personages  in  the  movement,  upon  whose  historicity  no  doubts  have 
been  cast.  Margaret  appears  to  have  been  a  psychic  as  well  as  a 
mystic :  and  to  have  possessed,  like  Madame  Guyon,  telepathic  and 
clairvoyant  powers.  Next  the  rather  shadowy  pair  of  laymen,  Henry 
of  Nordlingen  and  Nicholas  of  Basle.  Lastly  the  puzzling  and 
fascinating  figure  of  Rulman  Merswin  (c.  1310-1382),  whose  story 
of  his  conversion  and  mystic  life,  whether  it  be  regarded  as  fact  or 
11  tendency  literature,"  is  a  psychological  document  of  the  first  rank. 

In  immediate  dependence  on  the  German  school,  and  like  it 
drawing  its  intellectual  vigour  from  the  genius  of  Eckhart,  is  the 
mysticism  of  Flanders  :  best  known  to  us — though  not  so  well  as  it 
should  be — in  the  work  of  its  most  sublime  representative,  the 
Blessed  John  Ruysbroeck  (1 293-1 381),  one  of  the  very  greatest 
mystics  whom  the  world  has  yet  known.  In  his  early  years  a  parish 
priest,  in  old  age  a  recluse  in  the  forest  of  Groenendael,  Ruysbroeck's 
influence  on  his  own  generation  was  great.  In  that  mystic  age  great 
mystics  were  recognized,  and  their  help  was  eagerly  sought.  Through 
his  disciple  Gerard  Groot  (1340-1384),  founder  of  the  Brotherhood 
of  the  Common  Life,  his  spirit  touched  in  the  next  generation  the 
very  different  character  of  Thomas  a  Kempis  (1 380-1 471).  In  the 
fifteenth  century  Denis  the  Carthusian  was  a  close^student  of  his 
works,  and  calls  him  "another  Dionysius,''  but  "clear  where  the 
Areopagite  is  obscure" — the  highest  praise  he  knew  how  to  bestow. 
His  works,  with  those  of  Suso,  appear  in  English  MSS.  early  in  the 
fifteenth  century,  taking  their  place  by  the  side  of  St.  Bernard,  St. 
Bonaventura,  and  the  great  English  mystic  Richard  Rolle.  The 
influence  of  his  genius  has  even  been  detected  in  the  mystical  literature 
of  Spain.  In  Ruysbroeck's  works  the  metaphysical  and  personal 
aspects  of  mystical  truth  are  fused  and  attain  their  highest  expression. 
Intellectually  indebted  to  Eckhart,  and  probably  to  Richard  of  St. 
Victor,  his  value  lies  in  the  fact  that  the  Eckhartian  philosophy  is 
merely  the  medium  by  which  he  expresses  the  results  of  profound 
experience.  He  was  both  saint  and  seer  :  truly  a  "  God-intoxi- 
cated man." 

England,  so  closely  akin  to  Flanders  in  religious  thought  and  art, 
first  appears  in  the  history  of  mysticism  at  the  end  6f  the  thirteenth 
century,  with  the  shadowy  figure  of  Margery  Kempe  (probably  writing 
c.  1290),  the  anchoress  of  Lynn.     We  know  nothing  of  this  woman's 


APPENDIX  555 

life;  and  only  a  fragment  of  her  "Contemplations"  has  survived. 
With  the  next  name,  however,  Richard  Rolle  of  Hampole(<r.  1300- 
1349),  the  short  but  brilliant  procession  of  English  mystics  begins. 
Rolle,  educated  at  Oxford  and  widely  read  in  mystical  theology, 
became  a  hermit  in  order  to  live  in  perfection  that  mystic  life  of 
"  Heat,  Sweetness,  and  Song,"  to  which  he  felt  himself  to  be  called. 
Richard  of  St.  Victor,  St.  Bernard,  and  St.  Bonaventura  are  the 
authors  who  have  influenced  him  most;  but  he  remains,  in  spite  of 
this,  one  of  the  most  individual  of  all  writers  on  mysticism.  Rolle 
already  shows  the  practical  temper  destined  to  be  characteristic  of  the 
English  school.  His  interest  is  not  philosophy,  but  spiritual  life. 
There  is  a  touch  of  Franciscan  poetry  in  his  descriptions  of  his 
communion  with  Divine  Love,  and  the  "  heavenly  song  "  in  which  it 
was  expressed  ;  of  Franciscan  ardour  in  his  zeal  for  souls.  His  works 
greatly  influenced  succeeding  mystics. 

He  was  followed  in  the  second  half  of  the  fourteenth  century  by  the 
unknown  author — or  possibly  group  of  authors — of  "The  Cloud  of 
Unknowing  "  and  its  companion  treatises,  and  by  the  gracious  spirit  of 
Walter  Hilton  (ob.  1396).  With  "The  Cloud  of  Unknowing"  the 
spirit  of  Dionysius  first  appears  in  English  literature.  It  is  the  work  of 
an  advanced  contemplative,  deeply  influenced  by  the  Areopagite  and 
the  Victorines,  who  was  also  an  acute  psychologist.  From  the  hand 
that  wrote  it  came  the  first  English  translation  of  the  Theologia 
Mystica,  "  Dionise  Hid  Divinite  " :  a  work  which,  says  an  old  writer, 
"ran  across  England  like  deere,"  so  ready  was  the  national  conscious- 
ness for  the  reception  of  mystical  truth. 

Hilton,  though  also  influenced  by  Dionysius  and  Richard  of 
St.  Victor,  addresses  a  wider  audience.  He  is  pre-eminently  a  lover, 
not  a  metaphysician  :  a  devout  and  gentle  spirit  anxious  to  share  his 
certitudes  with  other  men.  The  moment  of  his  death  coincides  with 
the  completion  of  the  most  beautiful  of  all  English  mystical  works,  the 
Revelations  of  Love  of  Julian  of  Norwich  (1343 — died  after  1413), 
"  theodidacta,  profunda,  ecstatica,"  whose  unique  personality  closes 
and  crowns  the  history  of  mediaeval  mysticism.  In  her  the  best  gifts 
of  Rolle  and  Hilton  are  transmuted  by  a  "  genius  for  the  infinite  "  of  a 
peculiarly  beautiful  and  individual  type.  She  was  a  seer,  a  lover,  and 
a  poet.  Her  mysticism,  owing  little  to  her  predecessors,  results  from  a 
direct  and  personal  vision  of  singular  intensity. 

Julian's  life  takes  us  on  into  the  fifteenth  century.  It  was 
probably  before  her  death  that  this  century  produced  two  mystical 
works  of  the  first  rank :  the  exquisite  "  Imitation  of  Christ "  (written 
1 400- 1 42  5)  and  the  more  amazing,  less  celebrated  "  Fiery  Soliloquy 


556  AN   INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

with  God  "  of  A  Kempis's  contemporary  Gerlac  Peterson  (c.  141 1) — 
last  gleams  from  the  setting  sun  of  the  mediaeval  world.  Her  later  life 
saw  the  birth  of  Blessed  Joan  of  Arc  (1412-1431),  and  the  appearance 
of  a  Flemish  mystic  of  a  type  less  congenial  to  the  modern  mind,  the 
suffering  visionary  St.  Lydwine  of  Schiedam  (1380- 1432). 

Already  before  the  completion  of  Julian's  revelations  another  woman 
of  supreme  genius,  St.  Catherine  of  Siena  (1 347-1 380),  had  lived  and 
died.  The  true  successor  of  Dante  as  a  revealer  of  Reality,  and  next 
to  St.  Francis  the  greatest  of  Italian  mystics,  Catherine  exhibits  the 
Unitive  Life  in  its  richest,  most  perfect  form.  She  was  a  great  active 
and  a  great  ecstatic:  at  once  politician,  teacher,  and  contemplative, 
holding  a  steady  balance  between  the  inner  and  the  outer  life.  With 
little  education  she  yet  contrived,  in  a  short  career  dogged  by  persistent 
ill-health,  to  change  the  course  of  history,  rejuvenate  religion,  and  com- 
pose, in  her  Divine  Dialogue,  one  of  the  jewels  of  Italian  religious 
literature. 

With  the  first  half  of  the  fifteenth  century  it  is  plain  that  the  mystic 
curve  droops  downwards.  The  great  period  is  over :  the  new  life  of  the 
Renaissance,  already  striving  in  other  spheres  of  activity,  has  hardly 
touched  the  spiritual  plane.  France  gives  us  two  names  only :  Joan 
of  Arc,  the  last  gift  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  Denis  the  Carthusian 
(1402-147 1),  a  theologian  and  contemplative  deeply  read  in  mystical 
science.  He  was  a  close  student  and  passionate  admirer  of  the 
Areopagite  and  of  Ruysbroeck;  and  his  works,  now  forgotten  but 
very  popular  during  the  three  succeeding  centuries,  helped  to  carry 
over  into  the  modern  world  the  best  traditions  of  Christian  mysticism.^ 

With  the  second  half  of  the  century  the  scene  shifts  to  Italy,  where 
a  spiritual  genius  of  the  first  rank  appeared  in  St.  Catherine  of 
Genoa  (1447-15 10).  She,  like  her  namesake  of  Siena,  was  at  once  an 
eager  lover  and  an  indomitable  doer.  More,  she  was  a  constructive 
mystic,  a  profound  thinker,  as  well  as  an  ecstatic :  an  original  teacher, 
a  busy  and  practical  philanthropist.  Her  influence  lived  on,  and  is 
seen  in  the  next  generation  in  the  fine,  well-balanced  nature  of  another 
contemplative:  the  Yenerable  Battista  Yernazza  (1497-1587),  her 
goddaughter  and  the  child  of  one  of  her  most  loyal  friends. 

Catherine  of  Genoa  stands  alone  in  her  day  as  an  example  of  the 
sane  and  vigorous  mystic  life.  Her  contemporaries  were  for  the  most 
part  visionaries  of  the  more  ordinary  female  type;  such  as  Osanna 
Andreasi  of  Mantua  (1449-1505),  Columba  Rieti  (c.  1430-1501), 
and  her  disciple,  Lucia  of  Narni.  They  seem  to  represent  the  slow 
extinction  of  the  spirit  which  burned  so  bright  in  Catherine  of  Siena. 

That  spirit  reappears  in  the  sixteenth  century  in  Flanders,  in  the 
works  of  the  Benedictine  ascetic  Blosius  (1 506-1 565),  and,  far  more 


APPENDIX  557 

conspicuously  in  Spain,  a  country  almost  untouched  by  the  outburst  of 
mystical  life  which  elsewhere  closed  the  mediaeval  period.  Spanish 
mysticism,  discernible  as  an  influence  in  the  writings  of  Luis  of  Leon 
and  Luis  of  Granada,  attained  definite  expression  in  the  life  and 
personality  of  St.  Ignatius  Loyola  (149 i-i  556),  the  great  founder  of 
the  Society  of  Jesus.  The  concrete  nature  of  St.  Ignatius's  work,  and 
especially  its  later  developments  has  blinded  historians  to  the  fact  that 
he  was  a  true  mystic ;  own  brother  to  such  great  actives  as  St.  Teresa 
and  George  Fox,  actuated  by  the  same  vision  of  reality,  passing  through 
the  same  stages  of  psychological  growth.  His  spiritual  sons  influenced 
greatly  the  inner  life  of  the  great  Carmelite,  St.  Teresa  (1515- 
1582):  an  influence  shared  by  another  and  very  different  mystic,  the 
Franciscan  saint,  Peter  of  Alcantara  (1499-1562). 

Like  St.  Catherine  of  Siena,  these  three  mystics — and  to  them  we 
must  add  St.  Teresa's  greatest  disciple,  the  poet  and  contemplative 
St.  John  of  the  Cross  (1542-1591) — seem  to  have  arisen  in  direct 
response  to  the  need  created  by  the  corrupt  or  disordered  religious  life 
of  their  time.  They  are  the  "  saints  of  the  counter-Reformation "  j 
and,  in  a  period  of  ecclesiastical  chaos,  flung  the  weight  of  their  genius 
and  their  sanctity  into  the  orthodox  Catholic  scale.  Whilst  St. 
Ignatius  organized  a  body  of  spiritual  soldiery,  who  should  attack 
heresy  and  defend  the  Church,  St.  Teresa,  working  against  heavy  odds, 
infused  new  vitality  into  a  great  religious  order  and  restored  it  to  its 
duty  of  direct  communion  with  the  transcendental  world.  In  this  she 
was  helped  by  St.  John  of  the  Cross  ;  who,  a  scholar  as  well  as  a  great 
mystic,  performed  the  necessary  function  of  bringing  the  personal 
experience  of  the  Spanish  school  back  again  into  touch  with  the  main 
stream  of  mystic  tradition.  All  three,  practical  organizers  and  pro- 
found contemplatives,  exhibit  in  its  splendour  the  dual  character  of  the 
mystic  life.  They  left  behind  them  in  their  literary  works  an  abiding 
influence,  which  has  guided  the  footsteps  and  explained  the  discoveries 
of  succeeding  generations  of  adventurers  in  the  transcendental  world. 
The  true  spiritual  children  of  these  mystics  are  to  be  found,  not  in 
their  own  country,  where  the  religious  life  which  they  had  lifted  to 
transcendent  levels  degenerated  as  soon  as  their  overmastering 
influence  was  withdrawn  :  but  amongst  the  innumerable  contemplative 
souls  of  succeeding  generations  who  have  fallen  under  the  spell  of  the 
"  Spiritual  Exercises,"  the  "  Interior  Castle,"  or  the  "  Dark  Night  of 
the  Soul." 

The  Divine  fire  which  blazed  up  and  exhausted  itself  so  quickly  in 
Spain,  is  next  seen  in  the  New  World  :  in  the  beautiful  figure,  too  little 


558  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

known  to  English  readers,  of  St.  Rose  of  Lima  (i 586-161 7),  the 
Peruvian  nun.  It  appears  at  the  same  moment,  under  a  very  different 
aspect,  in  Protestant  Germany;  in  the  person  of  one  of  the  giants 
of  mysticism,  the  "  inspired  shoemaker  "  Jacob  Boehme  (1575-1624). 

Boehme,  one  of  the  most  astonishing  cases  in  history  of  a  natural 
genius  for  the  transcendent,  has  left  his  mark  upon  German  philosophy 
as  well  as  upon  the  history  of  mysticism.  William  Law,  Blake,  and_ 
Saint-Martin  are  amongst  those  who  have  sat  at  his  feet.  The  great 
sweep  of  Boehme's  vision  includes  both  Man  and  the  Universe :  the 
nature  of  God  and  of  the  Soul.  In  him  we  find  again  that  old  doctrine 
of  Rebirth  which  the  earlier  German  mystics  had  loved.  Were  it  not  for 
the  difficult  symbolism  in  which  his  vision  is  expressed,  his  influence 
would  be  far  greater  than  it  is.  He  remains  one  of  those  cloud- 
wrapped  immortals  who  must  be  rediscovered  and  reinterpreted  by  the 
adventurers  of  every  age. 

The  seventeenth  century  rivals  the  fourteenth  in  the  richness  and 
variety  of  its  mystical  life.  Two  main  currents  are  to  be  detected  in  it: 
dividing  between  them  the  two  main  aspects  of  man's  communion  with 
the  Absolute.  One,  symbolic,  constructive,  activistic,  bound  up  with 
the  ideas  of  regeneration,  and  often  using  the  language  of  the  alchemists, 
sets  out  from  the  Teutonic  genius  of  Boehme.  It  achieves  its 
successes  outside  the  Catholic  Church :  and  chiefly  in  Germany  and 
England,  where  by  1650  his  works  were  widely  known.  In  its  decadent 
forms  it  runs  to  the  occult :  to  alchemy,  Rosicrucianism,  apocalyptic 
prophecy,  and  other  aberrations  of  the  spiritual  sense. 

The  other  current  arises  within  the  Catholic  Church,  and  in  close 
touch  with  the  great  tradition  of  Christian  mysticism.  It  represents 
the  personal  and  intimate  side  of  contemplation :  tends  to  encourage 
passive  receptivity:  and  produces  in  its  exaggerated  forms  the 
aberrations  of  the  Quietists.  It  has  its  chief  field  in  the  Latin 
countries :   France,  Italy,  and  Spain. 

In  the  seventeenth  century  England  was  peculiarly  rich,  if  not  in 
great  mystics,  at  any  rate  in  mystically-minded  men.  Mysticism,  it 
seems,  was  in  the  air;  broke  out  under  many  disguises  and  affected 
many  forms  of  life.  It  produced  in  George  Fox  (1624-1690)  the 
founder  of  the  Quakers,  a  "great  active"  of  the  first  rank,  entirely 
unaffected  by  tradition ;  and  in  the  Quaker  movement  itself  an  outbreak 
of  genuine  mysticism  which  is  only  comparable  to  the  fourteenth- 
century  movement  of  the  Friends  of  God.  At  the  opposite  end  of  the 
theological  scale,  and  in  a  very  different  form,  it  shows  itself  in 
Gertrude  More  (1 606-1 633)  the  Benedictine  nun,  a  Catholic  contem- 
plative of  singular  charm. 


APPENDIX  559 

Gertrude  More  carries  on  that  tradition  of  the  communion  of  love 
which  flows  from  St.  Augustine  through  St.  Bernard  and  Thomas  a 
Kempis,  and  is  the  very  heart  of  Catholic  mysticism.  In  the  writings 
of  her  director,  and  the  preserver  of  her  works,  the  Yenerable 
Augustine  Baker  (15  7  5-1 641) — one  of  the  most  lucid  and  orderly  of 
guides  to  the  contemplative  life — we  see  what  were  still  the  formative 
influences  in  the  environment  where  her  mystical  powers  were  trained. 
Richard  of  St.  Victor,  Hilton  and  the  "  Cloud  of  Unknowing  ";  Angela 
of  Foligno  ;  Tauler,  Suso,  Ruysbroeck  ;  St.  Teresa  and  St.  John  of  the 
Cross ;  these  are  the  authorities  to  whom  Augustine  Baker  most 
constantly  appeals,  and  through  these,  as  we  know,  the  line  of  descent 
goes  back  to  the  Neoplatonists  and  the  first  founders  of  the  Church. 

Outside  that  Church,  the  twins  Thomas  Yaughan  the  spiritual 
alchemist  and  Henry  Yaughan,  Silurist,  the  mystical  poet  (1622- 
1695)  show  the  reaction  of  two  very  different  temperaments  upon  the 
transcendental  life.  Again,  the  group  of  "Cambridge  Platonists," {l 
Henry  More  (1614-1687),  John  Smith  (1618-1652),  Benjamin  ri 
Whichcote  (1609-1683),  and  John  Norris  (1657-1711)  developed  '"* 
and  preached  a  rational  philosophy  which  is  nevertheless  deeply  tinged 
with  mysticism.  In  the  saintly  Bishop  Hall  (157 4- 165 6)  the  same 
spirit  takes  a  devotional  form.  Finally,  in  the  crowd  of  Rosicrucians, 
symbolists,  and  other  spiritually  minded  occultists — above  all  in  the 
extraordinary  sect  of  Philadelphians,  ruled  by  Dr.  Pordage  (1608- 
1698)  and  the  prophetess  Jane  Lead  (1 623-1 704) — we  find  mysticism 
in  its  least  balanced  aspect,  mingled  with  mediumistic  phenomena,  wild 
symbolic  visions,  and  apocalyptic  prophecies.  The  influence  of  these 
Philadelphians,  who  were  themselves  strongly  affected  by  Boehme's 
works,  lingered  on  for  a  century,  appearing  again  in  Saint- Martin  the 
"  Unknown  Philosopher." 

The  Quietistic  trend  of  seventeenth-century  mysticism  is  best  seen 
in  France.  There,  at  the  beginning  of  the  century,  the  charming 
personality  of  St.  Francis  de  Sales  (1567-1622)  sets  the  key  of  the 
spiritual  life  of  the  time,  with  a  delicate  but  slightly  sentimental 
application  of  the  principles  of  mystic  love  to  popular  piety.  Under 
the  brilliant  worldly  life  of  seventeenth-century  France,  there  was  some- 
thing amounting  to  a  cult  of  the  inner  life.  Such  episodes  as  the 
careers  of  St.  Jeanne  Francoise  de  Chantal  and  St.  Vincent  de  Paul,  the 
history  of  Port  Royal,  the  apostolate  of  Madame  Guyon,  the  con- 
troversies of  Bossuet  and  Fenelon,  and  the  interest  which  these  events 
aroused,  indicate  a  period  of  considerable  vitality.  The  spiritual  life 
threatened  to  become  fashionable.  Hence,  its  most  satisfactory  initiates 
are  those  least  in  touch  with  the  life  of  the  time ;  such  as  the  simple 


560  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

Carmelite,  Brother  Lawrence  (1611-1691).  Lawrence  shows  the 
passive  tendency  of  French  mysticism  in  its  most  sane,  well-balanced 
form.  He  was  a  humble  empiricist,  laying  claim  to  no  special  gifts :  a 
striking  contrast  to  his  contemporary,  the  brilliant  and  unhappy  genius 
Pascal  (1623-1662),  who  fought  his  way  through  many  psychic  storms 
to  the  final  vision  of  the  Absolute. 

The  earliest  in  date  and  most  exaggerated  in  type  of  the  true 
Quietists  is  the  Franco-Flemish  Antoinette  Bourignan  (1616-1680): 
a  strong-willed  and  wrong-headed  woman  who,  having  renounced  the 
world  with  Franciscan  thoroughness,  founded  a  sect,  endured  consider- 
able persecutions,  and  made  a  great  stir  in  the  religious  life  of  her  time. 
An  even  greater  uproar  resulted  from  the  doctrinal  excesses  of  the 
devout  Spanish  priest  Miguel  de  Molinos  (1640-1697);  whose 
extreme  teachings  were  condemned  by  the  Church,  and  for  a  time 
brought  the  whole  principle  of  passive  contemplation  into  disrepute. 
Quietism,  at  bottom,  was  the  expression  of  a  need  not  unlike  that  which 
produced  the  contemporary  Quaker  movement  in  England :  a  need  for 
personal  contact  with  spiritual  realities,  evoked  by  the  formal  and  un- 
satisfying quality  of  the  official  religion  of  the  time.  Unfortunately  the 
great  Quietists  were  not  great  mystics.  Hence  their  unbalanced 
propaganda,  in  which  the  principle  of  passivity — divorced  from,  and 
opposed  to,  all  spiritual  action — was  pressed  to  its  logical  conclusion, 
came  dangerously  near  to  nihilism :  and  resulted  in  a  doctrine  fatal  not 
only  to  all  organized  religion,  but  to  the  healthy  development  of  the 
inner  life. 

Madame  Guy  on  (1648-1717),  the  contemporary  of  Molinos  and 
one  of  the  most  interesting  personalities  of  the  time,  though  usually 
quoted  as  a  typical  Quietist,  taught  and  practised  a  far  more  balanced 
mysticism.  Madame  Guyon  is  an  instance  of  considerable  mystical 
genius  linked  with  a  feeble  surface  intelligence.  Had  she  possessed 
the  robust  common  sense  so  often  found  in  the  great  contemplatives, 
her  temperamental  inclination  to  passivity  would  have  been  checked, I 
and  she  would  hardly  have  made  use  of  the  unfortunate  expressions 
which  brought  about  the  official  condemnation  of  her  works.  In  spite  of 
the  brilliant  championship  of  Fenelon,  and  the  fact  that  she  really  con- 
tinues the  tradition  of  feminine  mysticism  as  developed  by  Angela  of 
Foligno,  St.  Catherine  of  Genoa,  and  St.  Teresa — though  lacking  the 
wide,  impersonal  outlook  of  these  mystics — she  was  involved  in  the 
general  condemnation  of  "  passive  orison"  which  the  aberrations  of  the 
extreme  Quietists  had  called  forth. 

The  end  of  the  seventeenth  century  saw  a  great  outburst  of  popular 
Quietism ;    some    within    and    some    without    the    official    Church. 


APPENDIX  561 

Amongst  the  more  respectable  of  these  quasi-mystics — all  of  whom 
appealed  to  the  general  tradition  of  mysticism  in  support  of  their  one- 
sided doctrine — were  Malaval,  whose  "Theologie  Mystique  "  contains 
some  beautiful  French  translations  from  St.  Teresa,  and  Peter  Poirct 
(1646-17 1 9),  once  a  Protestant  pastor,  then  the  devoted  disciple  of 
Antoinette  Bourignan.  Later  generations  owe  a  considerable  debt  to 
the  enthusiasm  and  industry  of  Poiret,  whose  belief  in  spiritual  qui- 
escence was  combined  with  great  literary  activity.  He  rescued  and 
edited  all  Madame  Guyon's  writings ;  and  has  left  us,  in  his  "Bibliotheca 
Mysticorum,"  the  memorial  of  many  lost  works  on  mysticism.  From  this 
unique  bibliography  we  can  see  how  "  orthodox  "  was  the  food  which 
nourished  even  the  most  extreme  of  the  Quietists :  how  thoroughly 
they  believed  themselves  to  represent  not  a  new  doctrine,  but  the  true 
tradition  of  Christian  Mysticism. 

With  the  close  of  the  seventeenth  century,  the  Quietist  movement 
faded  away.  The  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  sees  the  triumph  of  its 
"completing  opposite";  that  other  stream  of  spiritual  vitality  which 
arose  outside  the  Catholic  Church  and  flowed  from  the  great  per- 
sonality of  Jacob  Boehme.  If  the  idea  of  surrender  be  the  main- 
spring of  Quietism,  the  complementary  idea  of  rebirth  is  the  main- 
spring of  this  school.  In  Germany,  Boehme's  works  had  been 
collected  and  published  by  an  obscure  mystic,  John  Gichtel  (1638- 
17 10);  whose  life  and  letters  constantly  betray  his  influence.  In 
England,  where  that  influence  had  been  a  living  force  from  the 
middle  of  the  seventeenth  century,  when  his  writings  first  became 
known,  the  Anglo-German  Dionysius  Andreas  Freher  was  writing 
between   1699  and  1720. 

In  the  early  years  ot  the  eighteenth  century,  Freher  was  followed 
by  William  Law  (1686-1761),  the  Nonjuror:  a  brilliant  stylist 
and  one  of  the  most  profound  of  English  religious  writers.  Law, 
who  was  converted  by  the  reading  of  Boehme's  works  from  the 
narrow  Christianity  to  which  he  gave  classic  expression  in  the 
"  Serious  Call "  to  a  wide  and  philosophic  mysticism,  gave,  in  a  series 
of  writings  which  burn  with  mystic  passion,  a  new  interpretation  and 
an  abiding  place  in  English  literature  to  the  "  inspired  shoemaker's  " 
astounding  vision  of  Man  and  the  Universe. 

The  latter  part  of  a  century  which  clearly  represents  the  steep 
downward  trend  of  the  mystic  curve,  gives  us  three  great  personalities ; 
all  of  whom  have  passed  through  Boehme's  school,  and  have  placed 
themselves  in  opposition  to  the  dry  ecclesiasticism  of  their  day.  In 
Germany,  Eckartshausen  (1 752-1 803),  in  "The  Cloud  upon  the 
Sanctuary "  and  other  works,  continued  upon    individual   lines   that 

00 


562  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

tradition  of  esoteric  and  mystical  Christianity,  and  of  rebirth  as  the 
price  of  man's  entrance  into  Reality,  which  found  its  best  and  sanest 
interpreter  in  William  Law.  In  France,  the  troubled  spirit  of  the 
transcendentalist  Saint-Martin  (i 743-1803),  "the  unknown  philo- 
sopher," was  deeply  affected  in  his  passage  from  a  merely  occult  to  a 
mystical  philosophy,  by  the  reading  of  Boehme  and  Eckartshausen ; 
and  also  by  the  works  of  the  English  "  Philadelphians,"  Dr.  Pordage 
and  Jane  Lead,  who  had  long  sunk  to  oblivion  in  their  native  land. 
In  England,  one  of  the  greatest  mystics  of  all  time,  William  Blake 
(1 757-1827),  shines  like  a  solitary  star  in  the  uncongenial  atmosphere 
of  the  Georgian  age. 

The  career  of  Blake,  poet,  painter,  visionary,  and  prophet,  provides 
us  with  a  rare  instance  of  mystical  genius  forcing  not  only  rhythm  and 
words,  but  also  colour  and  form,  to  express  its  vision  of  truth.  So 
individual  in  his  case  was  this  vision,  so  strange  the  elements  from 
which  his  symbolic  reconstructions  were  built  up,  that  he  failed  in  the 
attempt  to  convey  it  to  other  men.  Neither  in  his  prophetic  books 
"dark  with  excessive  light,"  nor  in  his  beautiful  mystical  paintings, 
does  he  contrive  to  transmit  more  than  great  and  stimulating  sug- 
gestions of  "  things  seen  "  in  some  higher  and  more  valid  state  of 
consciousness. 

An  impassioned  Christian  of  a  deeply  mystical  type,  Blake,  like 
Eckartshausen  and  Saint-Martin,  was  at  the  same  time  a  determined 
and  outspoken  foe  of  conventional  Christianity.  He  seems  at  first 
sight  the  Ishmael  of  the  mystics,  wayward  and  individual,  hardly 
touched  by  tradition  j  but  as  a  matter  of  fact  his  spirit  gathered  up 
and  expressed  the  scattered  threads  of  that  tradition,  parted  since 
the  Reformation  amongst  divergent  groups  of  explorers  of  the  unseen. 
It  is  for  this  reason  that  his  name  may  fitly  close  and  complete  this 
short  survey  of  European  mysticism. 

Whilst  his  visionary  symbolism  derives  to  a  large  extent  from 
Swedenborg,  whose  works  were  the  great  influence  of  his  youth,  Blake 
has  learned  much  from  Boehme,  and  probably  from  his  English  inter- 
preters. But,  almost  alone  amongst  English  Protestant  mystics,  he  has 
also  received  and  assimilated  the  Catholic  tradition  of  the  personal  and 
inward  communion  of  love.  In  his  stupendous  vision  of  "  Jerusalem," 
St.  Teresa  and  Madame  Guyon  are  amongst  the  "  gentle  souls  "  whom 
he  sees  guarding  that  Four-fold  Gate  which  opens  towards  Beulah — 
the  gate  of  the  contemplative  life — and  guiding  the  great  "  Wine-press 
of  Love "  whence  mankind,  at  the  hands  of  its  mystics,  has  received, 
in  every  age,  the  Wine  of  Life. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

PARTS. 

I.  The  Works  and  Lives  of  the  Mystics. 

II.  General  Works  on  Mysticism. 

III.  Philosophy,  Psychology,  Theology. 

IV.  Alchemy. 
V.  Magic. 

PART   I 

THE    WORKS    AND    LIVES    OF    THE    MYSTICS 

I.  Texts.     2.  Translations.     3.  Biographies  and  Monographs. 

ANONYMOUS  WORKS. 

Texts.     In  Manuscript — 

The  Cloud  of  Unknowing. 
The  Epistle  of  Prayer. 
The  Epistle  of  Private  Counsel. 
The  Epistle  of  Discretion  in  Stirrings  of  the  Soul. 
The  Treatise  of  Discerning  of  Spirits. 
(All  in  B.M.    Harl.  674  and  2373.     Compare  in  Part  II.,  Gardner,   The  Cell 
of  Self-Knowledge.) 

The  Mirror  of  Simple  Souls.    (B.M.  Add.  37,790.) 
Printed — 

The  Divine  Cloud  {i.e.,  The  Cloud  of  Unknowing),  edited  by  Rev.  H. 

Collins.     London,  1871.     (An  unsatisfactory  edition.) 
The    Mirror    of   Simple    Souls.     Selections,    with   introduction  by  E. 
Underhill.     (Porch  Series.)     London,  191 1. 
AL  GHAZZALI. 

Trans.    The  Confessions  of  Al  Ghazzali.     Translated  by  Claud  Field.     (Wisdom 
of  the  East  Series.)     London,  1909. 
The  Alchemy  of  Happiness.     Translated  by  Claud  Field.     (Wisdom  ol 
the  East  Series.)     London,  1910. 
(See  also  in  Part  II.,  Schmolders.) 
ANGELA  OF  FOLIGNO,   BLESSED. 

Text.     Beatse  Angelas  de  Fulginio  Visionum  et  Instructionum  Liber.  (Bibliotheca 
mystica  et  ascetica,  Part  V.)     Cologne,  1849. 
Trans.    The  Book  of  Divine  Consolations  01  the  Blessed   Angela  of  Foligno 
Translated  by  M.  Steegmann.     With  an  Introduction  by  Algar  Thorold 
(New  Mediaeval  Library.)     London,  1908. 
(See  also  Part  II.,  Thorold.) 

#3 


n 


564  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

AUGUSTINE  OF   HIPPO,   SAINT. 

Texts.     Opera  Omnia      (Migne,  Patrologia  Latina.     t.  37-47.)     Paris,  1844. 
Confessionum,  libri  tredecim.     Ex  recog.  P.  Knoll.     Lipsise,  1898. 
Confessions.     Edited    by  J.    Gibb  and   W.   Montgomery.     (Cambridge 
Patristic  Texts.)     1908.     [Latin  text  and  English  notes.] 
Trans.     Works.     Edited  by  Marcus  Dods.      15  vols.     Edinburgh,  1876. 

Works.   Translated  and  annotated  by  J.  E.  Pilkington  and  others.    8  vols. 

(Library  of  Nicene  and  Post-Nicene  Fathers.)     London,  1888-92. 
The  Confessions.    Translated  by  Dr.  E.  B.  Pusey.    (Everyman's  Library.) 

London,  1907. 
The  Confessions  (first  nine  books  only).    Translated,  with  an  Introduction, 
by  Dr.  C.  Bigg.     (Library  of  Devotion.)     London,  1898. 
Mon.     Harnack,  A.    Augustins  Confessionen.    Giessen,  1895. 
BERNARD  OF  CLAIRVAUX,  SAINT. 

Text.     Opera  Omnia.    Notis  et  observationibus  J.  Mabillon.   (Migne,  Patrologia 

Latina,  182-185.)     Paris,  1854. 

Trans.     Life  and  Works  of  St.  Bernard.     Edited  by  Dom  J.  Mabillon,  O.S.B. 

Translated  and  edited  by  S.  J.  Eales,  M.A.    4  vols.     London,  1889-96. 

(Vols.  I.  and II.,  Letters  ;  III.,  Letters  and  Sermons;  IV.,  Sermons  on  the  Song 

of  Songs.) 

Cantica  Canticorum :  Sermons]  on  the  Song  of  Songs.    Translated  by 

S.  J.  Eales,  M.A.     London,  1895. 
The  Song  of  Songs  :  Extracts  from  the  Sermons  of  St.  Bernard.     Edited 

by  B.  Blaxland.     (Library  of  Devotion.)     London,  1898. 
St.  Bernard  on  the  Love  of  God,  &c.  Translated  by  M.  and  C.  Patmore. 

Second  edition.     London,  1884. 
St.  Bernard  on  Consideration.    Translated  by  G.  Lewis.     Oxford,*  1908. 
Suggestions  on  the  Method  of  Meditation,  extracted  from  St.  Bernard's 
Scala  Claustralium  by  W.  B.  Trevelyan.     London,  1904. 
Mons.     Morrison,  J.    Cotter.      Life    and    Times  of   St.    Bernard,    Abbot    of 
Clairvaux.     Second  edition.     London,  1868. 
Neander,  Aug.     Der  heilige  Bernard  und  seine  Zeitalter.     Hamburg, 

1848. 
(Translation)    Life   and    Times    of    St.    Bernard.     Translated    by    M. 
Wrench.     London,  1843. 
BLAKE,  WILLIAM. 

Texts.    Works  :    Poetic,   Symbolic,  and  Critical.     Edited  by  E.  J.  Ellis  and  W. 
B.  Yeats.     3  vols.     London,  1893. 
Poetical  Works  :  new  and  verbatim  text  by  J.  Sampson.     Oxford,  1905. 
Blake's  "Jerusalem."     Edited  by  E.  R.  D.  Maclagen  and  A.  G.   B. 

Russell.     London,  1904. 
Blake's  "  Milton."    Edited  by  E.  R.  D.  Maclagen  and  A.  G.  B.  Russell. 

London,  1907. 
The  Letters  of  William   Blake  and   Life  by  F.  Tatham.     Edited  by 
Archibald  Russell.     London,  1906. 
Mons.    £erger>  P.    William  Blake  :  Mysticisme  et  Poesie.     Paris,  1907. 
De  Selincourt,  Basil.     William  Blake.     London,  1909. 
Gilchrist,  Alexander.     Life  of  William  Blake.     London,  1907. 
Swinburne,  A.  C.     William  Blake.     London,  1868. 
Symons,  Arthur.     William  Blake.     London,  1907. 
Wicksteed,J.     Blake's  Vision  of  the  Book  of  Job.     London,  19 10. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  565 

BOEHME,   JACOB. 

Texts.    J.  Boehme,  Sein  Leben  und  seine  theosophischen  Werke  in  geordneten 

Auszuge  mit  Einleitungen  und  Erlauterungen.     Allen  Christglaubigen 

dargeboten  durch  J.  Claassen.     3  B.     Stuttgart,  1885. 

Theosophia  revelata.   Das  ist :  Alle  gottliche  Schriften.  .  .  .  J.  Bohmens. 

7  vols.     Amsterdam,  1730-31. 

Trans.    The  Works  of  Jacob  Boehme.     In  4  vols.,  with  Life  of  the  Author. 

English  translation.     London,  1764-81. 
(The  only  collected  English  edition,  but  incomplete.     All  Boehme's  works  were 
translated  by  Sparrow  and  others  in  the  seventeenth  century,  and  are  now  being 
re-issued.     See  below.     For  full  bibliography  see  "William  Law  and  the  English 
Mystics,"  by  C.  Spurgeon,  in  "  Cambridge  History  of  English  Literature.") 

The  Threefold  Life  of  Man.     With  an  Introduction  by  the  Rev.  G.  W 

Allen.     London,  1909. 
The  Three  Principles  of  the  Divine  Essence.     With  an  Introduction  by 

Dr.  Paul  Deussen.     London,  1910. 
The  Forty  Questions  of  the  Soul  and  the  Clavis.     London,  191 1. 
(The  first  three  volumes  of  a  proposed  reissue  of  Boehme's  complete  works.) 
Treatises  of  Jacob  Boehme.     London,  1769. 
Dialogues  on  the  Supersensual  Life.     Edited,  with  an  Introduction,  by 

Bernard  Holland.     London,  1901. 
The  Works  of  Jacob  Boehme.     Glasgow,  1886.     (Discontinued.) 
The  Epistles  of  Jacob  Boehme,  reprinted  from  the  1689  edition.     1886. 
Mons.     Memoirs  of  the  life,  death,  burial,  and  wonderful  writings  of  J.  Behmen. 
Now  first  done  at  large  into  English  from  the  original  German.     With 
preface  by  J.  Okeley.     Northampton,  1780. 
Boutroux,  E.     Le  Philosophe  Allemand,  Jacob  Boehme.     Paris,  1888. 
Hartmann,  F.   The  Life  and  Doctrines  of  Jacob  Boehme.   London,  1891. 
Martensen,   H.  L.    Jakob  Bohme.     Theosophische   Studien.      Grafen- 

hainichen,  1882. 
(Translation)  Jacob  Behmen  :  His  life  and  teaching.     London,  1885. 
Taylor,  Edward.    J.  Behmen's  theosophick  philosophy  unfolded,  1691. 
Whyte,  Rev.  Alexander.    Jacob  Bohme  :  an  Appreciation.     Edinburgh, 
1894. 

BONAVENTURA,   SAINT. 

Text.     Opera  Omnia.     Editae  a  P.P.    Collegii  S.  Bonaventurae.     10   t.     Ad 
Claras  Aquas  1 882-1902. 
Trans.     Theologie  Seraphique,   extraite   et  traduite  par  C.  et  A.  Alix.     2  vols. 
(Text  and  Translation.)     Paris,  1853. 
Les  six  Ailes  du  Seraphin.     Paris,  i860. 
(There  are  no  English  translations.    The  "  Soliloquies  "  attributed  to  Bonaventura 
are  not  authentic.     For  his  life  of  St.  Francis,  vide  infra,  Francis  of  Assisi,  St.) 

Mons.     Bollea,  B.  L.  C.     II  mysticismo  di  S.  Bonaventura  studiato  nelle  sue 
antecedenza  e  nelle  sue  esplicazione.     Torino,   1901. 
Lutz,  E.     Die  Psychologie  Bonaventuras  nach  den  quellen    dargestellt. 
(Beitrage  zur  Geschichte  der  Philosophic  des  Mittelalters.)     Munster, 
1909. 

BOURIGNAN,   ANTOINETTE. 

Text.     CEuvres.     19  tomes.     Amsterdam,  1686. 

Mons.     Anon.    An  Apology  for  Mrs.  Antonia  Bourignan.     London,  1699. 


566  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

Cockburn,  J.     Bourignianism  Detected  :  or,  the  Delusions    and    Errors 

of  Antonia  Bourignan  and  her  growing  Sect.     London,  1698. 
MacEwen,  A.  R.     Antoinette  Bourignan,  Quietist.     London,  1910. 
Von  der  Lindey  A.     Antoinette  Bourignan,  das  Licht  der  Welt.     Leyden, 

1895. 
CATHERINE  OF  GENOA,  SAINT. 

Texts.    Vita  Mirabile  e  dottrina  celeste  di  Santa  Caterina  da  Genova,  insieme  col 
Trattato  del  Purgatorio  e  col  Dialogo  della  Santa.     1743. 
Dialogo  di  S.  Caterina  da  Genova.     Milano,  1882. 
(The  authenticity  of  this  dialogue  is  denied  by  Von  Ilugel.) 

Trans.    The  Treatise  on   Purgatory.     With  a  preface    by  Cardinal    Manning. 
London,  1858. 
La  Vie  et  les  CEuvres  de  Ste.  Catherine  de  Genes,  traduits  par  le  Vicomte 
de  Bussierre.     Paris,  i860. 
Mon.     Vallebona,  S.     La  Perla  dei  Fieschi.     Genova,  1887. 
(See  also  Pt.  II.,  Von  Hixgel,  for  the  best  modern  account  of  this  mystic.) 
CATHERINE  OF  SIENA,  SAINT. 

Texts.    S.   Catherinae  Senensis  Vitae.     Auctore  Fr.  Raimundo  Capuano.     Acta 
S.S.  Aprilis.     T.  III.     Paris  and  Rome,  i860. 
L'Opere  della  Seraphica  Santa  Caterina  da  Siena,  Lucca,  1721. 
(Life,  works,  dialogue,  and  letters.) 

Le  lettere  di  S.  Caterina  da  Siena.     Edited  by  N.  Tommaseo.     4  vols. 
Firenze,  i860. 
Trans.    The  Divine  Dialogue  of  St.  Catherine  of  Siena.     Translated  by  Algar 
Thorold.     London,  1896. 
St.  Catherine  of  Siena  as  seen  in  her  Letters.     Edited  by  Vida  Scudder. 
London,  1905. 
Mons.    Drane,  A.   T.    The  History  of  St.  Catherine  of   Siena  and  her  Com- 
panions.    2  vols.     London,  1887. 
Gardner,  Edmund.     St.  Catherine  of  Siena.     London,  1907. 
(By  far  the  best  modern  biography.) 

Mignaty,  M.  A.     Catherine  de  Sienne.     Paris,  1886. 
CLEMENT  OF  ALEXANDRIA,  SAINT. 

Text.     Opera  Omnia.     Recog.  R.  Klotz.     4  vols.     Lipsise,  1831-34. 
Trans.     Writings,  translated  by  W.  Wilson.     2  vols.     Edinburgh.     1867-69. 
Mons.     De  Faye.     Clement  d' Alexandria     Paris,  1898. 

Wagner.     Der  Christ  und  die   Welt   nach   Clemens  von  Alexandrien. 
Gottingen,  1903. 
DANTE. 

Texts.    Tutte  le  Opere.     Rived,  nel  testo  da  Dr.  E.  Moore.     Oxford.     1894. 

La  Divina  Commedia.     II  testo  Wittiano  rived,  da  Toynbee.     London, 
1900. 
Text  and    The  Hell  of  Dante.    Edited,  with  Translation  and  Notes,  by  A.  J.  Butler. 
Trans.         London,  1892. 

The  Purgatory.     London,  1880. 
The  Paradise.     London,  1885. 

The  Inferno,  Purgatorio,  and  Paradiso.    Text,  with  translation  by  Carlyle, 
Okey,  and  Wicksteed.     (Temple  Classics.)     3  vols.     London,  1900. 
Vernon,  W.  W.     Readings  on  the  Inferno,  Purgatorio,  and  Paradiso ;  chiefly  based 
on  the  Commentary  of  Benvenuto  da  Imola.  6  vols.  London,  1894-1900. 
(Text,  translation,  and  full  commentary.) 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  567 

Minor     The  Convivio  of  Dante,   translated   by  P.   H.   Wicksteed.      (Temple 
works.        Classics.)     London.     1903. 

Dante's  Convivio.     Translated  by  W.  W.  Jackson.     Oxford,  1909. 
Dante's  Eleven  Letters.     Translated,  with  Notes,  &c,  by  C.  S.  Latham. 

Boston,  1902. 
A  Translation  of  Dante's  Latin  Works.     (Temple  Classics.)     London, 

1896. 
The  New  Life.    Translated  by  D.  G.  Rossetti.     (The  Siddal  Edition.) 

London,  1899. 
Mons.     Baratono,  A.     Dante  e  la  Visione  di  Dio.     1909. 

Barelli,    V.     L'Allegoria  della   Divina  Commedia  di   Dante  Alighieri. 

Firenze,  1864. 
Bonanni,  T.    II  Cantico  al  Sole  di  S.  Francesco  d'Assisi  comentato  nella 

Divina  Commedia.     Aquila.     1890. 
Capetti,  V.     L'Anima  e  l'arte  di  Dante.     1907. 
Can-oil,  Rev.  J.   S.     Exiles  of  Eternity  :    an    Exposition  of  Dante's 

Inferno.     London,  1903. 

Prisoners  of  Hope  :  an  Exposition  of  Dante's  Purgatorib.     London, 

1906. 

Fardel,  M.  D.     La  Personne  de  Dante  dans  la  Divine  Comedie  :   etude 

psychologique.     Paris,  1894. 
Ciuffo,  G.     La  visione  ultima  della  Vita  Nuova.     1899. 
Gardner,  Edmund.     Dante's    Ten    Heavens,  a  study  of  the  Paradiso. 

London,  1898. 

A  Dante  Primer.     Third  edition.     London,  1903. 

Guiliozzi,  C.     Dante  e  il  Simbolismo.     1900. 

Hettinger y  Franz.     Dante's  Divina  Commedia,  its  Scope  and  Value. 

Translated  and  edited  by  Rev.  H.  S.  Bowden.     London,  1887. 

Perez,  Paolo.     I  Sette  Cerchi  del  Purgatorio  di  Dante,  Saggio  di  Studi. 

Third  edition.     Milano,   1896. 
Wicksteed^    Rev.    P.    H.     Dante :     Six    Sermons.      Second    Edition. 
London,  1890. 
(I  have  selected  from  the  immense  mass  of  Dante  literature  a  few  books  which  will 
be  useful  to  the  student  of  mysticism.     For  full  bibliographies  see  the  works  of 
Vernon  and  Gardner,  above  cited.) 
DENIS  THE  CARTHUSIAN. 

Texts.     Doctoris  Ecstatici  D.  Dionysii  Cartusiani  opera  omnia   in  unum  corpus 
digesta.      Cura  et  labore   monachorum  S.  Ordinis  Cartusiensis.     (In 
progress.)     Monstrolii,  1896. 
D.  Dionysii  Carthusiani  de  perfecto  mundi  contemptu.     Colonie,  1533. 
Mons.     Krogh-  Tonning,  K.     Der  Letzte  Scholastiker.     1904. 

Mougel,  D.  A.     Denys  le  Chartreux.     Montreuil-sur-Mer,  1896. 
DIONYSIUS  THE  AREOPAGITE. 

Texts.     Opera  Omnia.     (Migne,  Patrologia  Graeca.     t.  3-4.)    Paris,  1855. 

Greek  text  of  the  Ecclesiastical  Hierarchy,  with  Preface  by  Rev.  John 
Parker.     London,  1899. 
Trans.     Dionise  Hid  Divinite  (B.M.  Harl.  674). 

(An  old  English  translation  of  the  Theologia  Mystica,  attributed  to  the  author  of 
"  The  Cloud  of  Unknowing.") 

Opera  S.  Dionysii  Areopagitae,  &c,  a  Balthazar  Corderius  Latine  inter- 
pretata.     Folio.     1634. 


568  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

— <« 

(Euvres  de  Saint  Denys  l'Areopagite.     Traduits  du  grec   et  precedes 

d'une  Introduction  par  l'Abb£  Darboy.    Paris,  1845. 
The  Works  of  Dionysius  the  Areopagite.     Translated  by  the  Rev.  J. 
Parker.     2  vols.     Oxford,   1897. 
Mons.     Colet,   /.     Two   Treatises   on  the    Hierarchies  of  Dionysius :    with   In- 
troduction and  Translation  by  J.  H.  Lupton.     London,  1869. 
Erigena.       Expositiones    super     Hkrarchias     Caelestes     S.     Dkxiysfi. 

Roma,    1 87 1. 
Koch,  Dr.  Hugo.     Pseude-Dionysius  Areopagita.     Maintz,  1900. 
DOUCELINE,  ST. 

Text.     La  Vie  de  Ste.  Douceline,  fondatrice  des  beguines  de  Marseille.     Edited 
by     J.      H.      Alban^s.       (Provencal      text,      French      translation.) 
Marseille,  1879. 
Mon.     Macdonell,  Anne.     Saint  Douceline.     London,  1905. 

ECKARTSHAUSEN,  C.  VON. 

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570  AN  INTRODUCTION   TO   MYSTICISM 

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,71  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

PETERSEN,  GERLAC. 

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Five  Books  of  Plotinus.     Translated  by  T.  Taylor.     London,  1794. 
Plotinus  on  the  Beautiful.     Translated  by  S.  Mackenna.     London,  1908. 
Les  Enneades  de  Plotin,  traduites  par  M.  N.  Bouillet.     3  tomes.     Paris, 
1857-61. 
Mon.     Whitby,    C.    /.     The    Wisdom    of   Plotinus,    a    Metaphysical   Study. 
London,  1909. 
PROCLUS. 

Text.     Opera.     Edited  by  V.  Cousin.     6  tomes.     Paris.     1820-27. 
Trans.    The  Six  Books  of  Proclus  on  the  Theology  of  Plato.     Translated  by 
T.  Taylor.     2  vols.     London,  18 16. 
Two  Treatises  of  Proclus.     Translated  by  T.  Taylor.     London,  1833. 
RICHARD   OF  ST.  VICTOR. 

Text.     Opera  Omnia.     (Migne,  Patrologia  Latina,  t.  196.)     Paris,  1855. 

See  also  Pt.  II.,  Gardner,  The  Cell  of  Self- Knowledge,  which  contains 
an  Old  English  translation  of  Richard  of  St.  Victor's  Benjamin  Minor. 
ROLLE,  RICHARD,  OF   HAMPOLE. 

Texts.     Works  of  Richard  Rolle  of  Hampole  and  his  followers.     Edited  by  C. 
Horstman.    2  vols.    (Library  of  Early  English  Writers.)    London,  1895. 
(Contains  an  admirable  biographical  introduction  and  bibliography.) 
The  Form  of  Perfect  Living.     Edited  by  G.  E.  Hodgson.     London,  1910. 
English  Prose  Treatises.     (E.E.T.S.     Vol.  XX.)     London,  1866. 
The  Fire  of  Love,  and  The  Mending  of  Life.     Englished  by  R.  Misyn. 
(E.E.T.S.,  Vol.  CVL).     London,  1896. 
ROSE  OF  LIMA,  ST. 

Text.     Hansen  Leonardus.     Rosa  Peruana.     Vita   Mirabilis   et   Mors  pretiosa 

S.  Rosae  a  Sancta  Maria.     Ulyssipone  Occidentali,  1725. 
Trans.    The  Life  of  S.  Rose  of  Lima  (paraphrase  of  above).     In  series  of  The 
Saints  and  Servants  of  God.     Edited  by  F.  W.  Faber.     London,  1847. 
Mons.     Capes,   F.  M.    The  Flower  of  the   New  World;    a  short  history  of 
St.  Rose  of  Lima.     1899. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  575 

Retwuard  de  Bussierre  (A/.   T.  de).     Le  Perou   et  Ste.  Rose  de  Lima 
Paris,  1863. 
RUYSBROECK. 

Texts.     Opera  Omnia  :  trad.  Surius.     Cologne,  1652. 

De  Vera  Contemplatione.     Cologne,  1605. 
Trans.     L'Ornement  des   Noces   spirituelles  de  Ruysbroeck  l'admirable,  traduit 
par  Maurice  Maeterlinck.     Bruxelles,  1900. 
Livre  tres  parfait  des  sept  Degres  de  1' Amour  trad.  par.  R.  Chomonal. 

2  pts.     Paris,  1909. 
Qiuvres  choisies,  traduit  par  E.  Hello.     Paris,  1902. 
Reflections  from  the  Mirror  of  a  Mystic  :  being  gleanings  from  the  works 
of  John  Ruysbroeck,  translated  by  Earle  Baillie.     London,  1905. 
Mons.     Auger,  A.     De  doctrina  et  meritis  Joannis  van  Ruysbroeck.     1892. 

Engelhardt,  J.    G.   von.     Richard  von  St.  Victor  und  J.  Ruysbroeck. 

Erlangen,  1838. 
Otterloo,  A.  A.  van.    Johannis  Ruysbroeck.     'S  Gravenhage,  1896. 
Schmidt,  G.  C.     Etude  sur  J.  Ruysbroeck.     1859. 

Scully,  Dom.  V.     A  Mediaeval  Mystic  :  B.  John  Ruysbroeck.     London, 
1910. 
SA'Df. 

Text.     Gulistan.     New  edition,  collated  by  E.  B.  Eastwick.     Hertford,  1850. 
Trans.     The  Gulistan  :  translated  by  E.  B.  Eastwick.     Hertford,  1852. 
SAINT-MARTIN. 

Texts.     Tableau   naturel  des  rapports  qui    existent  entre  Dieu,    l'Homme    et 
l'Univers.     1782. 
L'Homme  de  Desir,  par  le  Philosophe  Inconnu.     1802. 
Des  Nombres  :  ceuvre  posthume.     Edited  by  L.  Schauer.     Paris,  1861. 
La  Correspondence  inedite  de  L.  C.  de  Saint-Martin  dit  le  Philosophe 
Inconnu,  et  Kirchberger,  Baron  de  Liebestorf.     Edited  by  Schauer  and 
Chuquet.     Paris,  1862. 
Trans.     Man  :  his  true  nature.     Translated  by  E.  B.  Penny.     London,  1864. 

Theosophic  Correspondence.     Trans.  bytE.  B.  Penny.     London,  1863. 
Mons.     CarOj  E.  M.     Du  Mysticisme  du  i8eme  Siecle  :  essai  sur  la  Vie  et  la 
Doctrine  de  Saint-Martin.     Paris,  1852. 
Matter,  A.  J.     Saint-Martin  le  Philosophe  Inconnu,  sa  vie  et  ses  ecrits. 

1862. 
Waite,  A.  E.    The   Life  of  Louis   Claude  de   Saint- Martin,   the   Un- 
known Philosopher,  and  the  substance  of  his  transcendental  doctrine. 
London,  1901. 

suso 

Texts.     Die  Schriften  des  seligen  H.  Seuse.     Edited  by  H.  S.  Denifle.     Miin- 

chen,  1876. 
Heinrich  Susos   Leben  und    Schriften.      Edited  by   M.    Diepenbrock. 

Regensburg,  1825. 
Trans.     CEuvres  mystiques  du  B.  Henri  Suso.     Traduction  par  le  P.  G.  Thiriot. 

2  vols.     Paris,  1899. 

The  Life  of  B.  Henry  Suso,  by  Himself.     London,  1865. 
Little  Book  of  Eternal  Wisdom.     London,  1910. 
TAULER. 

Texts.     Johann  Tauler's  Predigten  nach  den  besten  Ausgaben  in  die  jetzige  Schrift- 
sprache  ubertragen  von  J.  Hamberger.     Zweite  neu  bearbeitete  Auflage. 

3  Band.     Prague,  1872. 


576  AN   INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

D.  Joannes  Thauleri.     Sermones  de   tempore  et  de  Sanctis  totius  anni, 

plane  piissime  :  R.   F.  Laurentio  Surio  in  Latinum  Sermonem  trans- 

lata,  &c.     Cologne,  1603. 
Trans.     The   History  and   Life  of  the   Rev.   Doctor  John  Tauler,  with  25  of 

his  sermons,  translated  by  Susanna  Winkworth.     Preface  by  Charles 

Kingsley.     New  edition.     London,  1906. 
The   Inner   Way:    Being   36  sermons   for   Festivals.      New   translation 

with   Introduction  by  Rev    A.  W.  Ilutton.     (Library   of   Devotion.) 

3rd  edition.     London,  1909. 
Sermons  .  .  .  traduits    de    l'Allemand    par    C.     Saint- Foi.      2   tomes. 

Paris,  1845-  .    0    . 

Oeuvres  Completes.     Trad,  litterale  de  la  version  latine  de  Sunus :  par 

G.  P.  Noel,  O.  P.  8  vols.     Paris,  191 1.     (In  progress). 
Mon.     Denifle.    Tauler's  Bekehrung  in  Quellen  u.  Forschungen  zur  Sprach-u. 

Cultur-geschichte.     Strasburg,  1879. 
TERESA,   SAINT. 

Text.     Obras  y  escritos  de  Santa  Teresa  de  Jesus.     Novfsima  edicion  corrigida  y 

aumentada.    6  vols.     Madrid,  1881.     (The  best  edition  of  the  Spanish 

text.) 
Trans.     GEuvres  de  Sainte  Therese,  traduites  sur  les  manuscrits  originaux  par  le 

Pere  Marcel  Bouix.     Huitieme  edition.     3  tomes.     Paris,  1907. 
Lettres,  traduites  selon  l'ordre  chronologique  par  le  Pere  Marcel  Bouix. 

Troisieme  edition.     3  tomes.     Paris,  1898. 
The   Life  of  St.   Teresa  of  Jesus,  written  by  Herself,   translated  by 

D.  Lewis.    3rd  edition,  with  Notes  and  Introduction  by  Zimmerman. 

London,  1904, 
The  Letters  of  St.  Theresa,  trans,  by  the  Rev.  J.  Dalton.    London,  1902. 
The  Book  of  the  Foundations  of  St.  Teresa  of  Jesus,  written  by  Herself. 

Translated  by  D.  Lewis.     London,  1871. 
The  History  of  the  Foundations,  translated  by  Sister  Agnes  Mason,  with 

preface  by  the  Right  Hon.  Sir  E.  M.  Satow.     1909. 
The  Interior  Castle  :  translated  from  the  autograph  of  St.  Teresa  by  the 

Benedictines  of  Stanbrook  Abbey,  with  Notes  by  Zimmerman.     Lon- 
don, 1906. 
The  Way  of  Perfection,  translated  from  the  autograph  of  St.  Teresa  by 

the   Benedictines   of  Stanbrook  Abbey,  with   Notes  by  Zimmerman. 

London,  191 1. 
Mons.     Bariney  Arvede.     Psychologie  d'une  Sainte  :  Sainte  Therese. 
(Revue  des  Deux  Mondes.     ie  Juin,  1886.) 

Carmelite,  Unt.     Histoire  de  Ste.  Therese.     2  vols.     Paris,  1887. 
Coleridge,  H.J.     Life  and  Letters  of  St.  Teresa.     3  vols.     London,  1872. 
Colvill,  H.  H.    Saint  Teresa  of  Spain.     London,  1909. 
Curzon,  H.  de.     Bibliographic  Teresienne.     Paris,  1902. 
Genonville.     S.  Therese  et  Son  Mysticisme.     Montaubon,  1S93. 
Graham,  G.  Cunninghame.     Santa  Teresa.     2  vols.     London,  1894. 
(A  brilliant  picture  of  St.  Teresa's  life  and  times.) 

Joly,  H.    Ste.  Therese  (Les  Saints).     Paris,  1902. 
(Translation.)     St.  Teresa,  translated  by  E.  Waller.     London,  1903. 
Lagardere.     S.  Therese,  Psychologique  et  Mystique.     Besancon,  1900. 
Norero,  H.     L5 Union  mystique  chez  Ste.  Therese.     Macon,  1905. 
Whyte,  A.     Santa  Teresa  :  an  appreciation.     Edinburgh,  1897. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  577 

Yepes,  D.  de.    Vida,  Virtudes,  y  Milagros  de  Santa  Teresa  de  Jesus. 
Lisbon,  1616. 
THEOLOGIA  GERMANICA. 

Text.     Theologia  Deutsch.     Neue  nach  der  einziger  bis  jetzt  bekannten  Hand- 
schrift  besorgte  vollstandige  Ausgabe.   Edited  by  F.  Pfeiffer.    Stuttgart, 
1851. 
Deutsche  Theologie,  herausgegeben  von  P.  Kohler.     Berlin,  1859. 
Trans.     Theologia    Germanica,    translated  from    Pfeiffer's   edition ;    edited  by 
Susanna  Winkworth,  with  a  Preface  by  Charles  Kingsley.     4th  edition. 
(Golden  Treasury  Series).     London,  1907. 
THOMAS  A  KEMPIS. 

Texts.     Opera  Omnia.     1  vol.     Cologne,  1660. 

De  Imitatione  Christi.     Edited  by  P.  E.  Puyal.     Paris,  1886. 
Libri  Quatuor  de  Imitatione  Christi,  in  versiculos  distributi,  Justa  rythmum 
ex-M.S.S.    de   promptum,  Cura  et  studie,  Dr.  C.  Albini  de  Agala. 
Paris,  1905. 
Trans.     Of   the    Imitation   of   Christ.     Revised    translation    by  Dr.    C.    Bigg. 
(Library  of  Devotion.)     London,  1901... 
The  Imitatio  Christi.     New  and  absolutely  literal  translation  by  W.  A. 
Coppinger.     Glasgow,  1900.  ^*a*» 
Mons.     Butler>    Dugald.     Thomas   a    Kempis,    a    religious    study.      London, 
1908. 
De  Montmorency,  J.     .6-.    Thomas  a  Kempis.     London,  1906. 
Ketthwelly  S.    The  authorship  of  the  De  Imitatione  Christi.     London, 
1877. 

Thomas   a    Kempis   and    the    Brothers    of    the    Common    Life. 

London,  1882. 
Wheatley,  L.  A.     The  Story  of  the  Imitatio.     London,  1891. 
VERNAZZA,  VEN.    BATTISTA. 

Text.     Opere  Spirituali.     Genova,  1755. 

See  also  in  Pt.  II.,  Von  Hiigel,  The  Mystical  Element  of  Religion. 

PART  II 

GENERAL  WORKS  ON  MYSTICISM 

Auger.     Etude  sur  les  Mystiques  des   Pays   Bas  au  Moyen   Age.     (Collection  des 
Memoires  Publies  par  l'Academie  Royale  de  Belgique,  tome  46.) 

Baker,  Yen.  Augustine.     Holy  Wisdom  ;  or,  Directions  for  the  Prayer  of  Con- 
templation.    (Edited  by  Abbot  Sweeny,  O.S.B.)     London,  1908. 

Benson,  Rev.  R.  H.     Mysticism.     (Westminster  Lectures. )     London,  1907. 

Biscioni,  A.  M.     Lettere  di  Santie  Beati  Fiorentini.     Firenze,  1736. 

Boutroux,  Emile.     Psychologie  du  Mysticisme.     (Bulletin  de   Tlnstitut  Psycho- 
logique.)     Paris,  1902. 

Bremond,  Abbe  H.     La  Provence  Mystique.     Paris,  1908. 

Brenier   de   Montmorand.    Asceticisme  et  Mysticisme.    (Revue  Philosophique, 
Mars,  1904.) 

Chaillot.    Principes  de  Theologie  Mystique.     Paris,  1866. 

Chandler,  ReY.  A.    Ara  Coeli ;  studies  in  mystical  religion.     London,  1908. 

Dalgairns,  Rev.  J.  B.    The  German  Mystics  of  the  Fourteenth  Century.     London, 
1858. 
PP 


578  AN   INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

-\       Delacroix,  H.    Essai  sur  le  Mysticisme  Speculatif  en  Allemagne  au  XIV.  Siecle. 
Paris,  1900. 
Etudes  d'llistoire  et  de  Psychologie  du  Mysticisme.     Les  Grands  Mystiques 
Chretiens.     Paris,  1908. 
(Detailed  analyses  of  St.  Teresa,  Madame  Guyon,  Suso.     One  of  the  most  important 
of  recent  works  on  the  psychology  of  Mysticism.     Indispensable  to  the 
student.) 
Denifle,  H.  S.    Das  geistliche  Leben  :  Blumenlese  aus  der  deutschen  Mystikern 

der  14  Jahrhunderts.     Graz,  1895. 
DeYine,  Rev.  A.    A  Manual  of  Mystical  Theology.     London,    1903.     (Roman 

Catholic.) 
Franck,  A.    La  Philosophic  Mystique  en  France  a  la  fin  du  i8e  Siecle.     Paris, 

1866. 
Gardner,  Edmund.    The  Cell  ot  Self- Knowledge :  Seven  Old  English  Mystical 
Works.     Reprinted  from  Pepwell's  edition,  with  Notes  and  Introduction. 
(New  Mediaeval  Library.)     London,   19 10. 
(This  contains  a  translation  of  Richard  of  St.  Victor's  Benjamin  Minor,  a  short 
passage  from  St.  Catherine  of  Siena,  the  only  known  work  of  Margery 
Kempe,    Hilton's  Song  of   Angels,   and    three  works    of   the  Cloud  of 
Unknowing  group — The  Epistles  of  Prayer,  Discretion,  and  the  Discerning 
of  Spirits.) 
Gebhart.     L'ltalie  Mystique.     Cinquieme  edition.     Paris,  1906. 
Gichtel,  J.  G.    Theosophia  Practica.     Leyden,  1722. 
Godfernaux.    Sur  la  Psychologie  du  Mysticisme.     (Revue  Philosophique,  Fevrier, 

1902.) 
Gorres,  J.  J.  y.     Die  Christliche  Mystik.     5  Bande.     Regensburg,  1836-42. 
Gregory,    Eleanor    C.      An    Introduction    to    Christian    Mysticism.      London, 
1901. 
A  Little  Book  of  Heavenly  Wisdom.     Selections  from  some  English  Prose 
Mystics.     With  Introduction.     (Library  of  Devotion.)     London,  1904. 
Robert,  M.     Le  Divin  :  Experiences  et  hypotheses.     Paris,  1907. 
Hello,  E.    Physionomies  de  Saints.     New  edition.     Paris,  1900. 
Ileppe,  H.    Geschichte  der  Quietistischen  Mystik.     Berlin,  1875. 
Inge,  Dr.  W.  R.    Christian  Mysticism.     (Bampton  Lectures.)     London,  1899. 
(A  standard  work  indispensable  to  the  student.) 

Studies  of  English  Mystics.     (St.  Margaret's  Lectures.)     London,  1906. 
Light,  Life,  and   Love.     Selections  from   the  German   Mystics.     With  In- 
troduction.    (Library  of  Devotion.)     London,  1905. 
Personal  Idealism  and  Mysticism.    (Paddock  Lectures.)    London,  1907. 
Joly,  Henri.     Psychologie  des  Saints.     Paris,  1895. 
Translation :  The  Psychology  of  the  Saints.     With  Preface  and  Notes  by  George 

Tyrrell.     London,  1898. 
Jones,  Dr.  Rufus  M.    Studies  in  Mystical  Religion.    London,  1909. 
(From  the  Quaker  standpoint.    Contains  an  excellent  account  of  the  Friends  of  God.) 
Jundt,  A.    Les  Amis  de  Dieu  au  XIV.  Steele.     Paris,  1879. 
Lehmann,  E.    Mysticism  in  Heathendom  and  Christendom.    Translated  by  G.  M.  G. 

Hunt.     London,  1910. 
Lejeune,  Abbe  P.    Manuel  de  Theologie  Mystique.     1897. 

Leuba.     Les  Tendances  Fondamentales  des  Mystiques  Chretiens.     (Revue  Philo- 
sophique, Juillet,  1902.) 
(An  important  psychological  study.) 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  579 

MalaYal.     La  Pratique  de  la  vraie  theologie  mystique.     2  tomes.     Paris,  1709. 

(Contains,  besides  Malaval's  own  work,  a  French  translation  of  part  of  St.  Teresa's 
Interior  Castle.) 

Ossuna,  Francesco  de.    Abecedario  Spiritual.    6  tomes.    (Gothic  letter.)    Medina, 
1554. 

(This  is  the  book  from  which  St.  Teresa  first  learned  the  method  of  contem- 
plation. ) 

Pacheu,  J.     Psychologie  des  Mystiques  Chretiens.     Paris,  1909. 

Palmer,   E.  H.    Oriental  Mysticism.      A  Treatise  on  the  Sufiistic  and  Unitarian 
Theosophy  of  the  Persians.     Cambridge,  1867. 

Patmore,  Coventry.    The  Rod,  the  Root,  and  the  Flower.     2nd  edition.     Lon- 
don, 1907. 

Poiret,  Pierre.    Theologiae  Mysticse  idea  generalis.     Paris,  1702. 
Petri  Poireti  Bibliotheca  Mysticorum  Selecta.     Paris,  1708. 

(This  contains  a  useful  list  of  mystical  and  ascetic  works,  many  of  which  are  now 
lost.) 

Poulain,    A.     Les    desiderata    de    la    Mystique.       (Etudes    Jesuites.)      Paris, 
1898. 
Graces  d'Oraison.     Paris,  1906. 

Translation.     The  Graces  of  Interior  Prayer.     London,  1910. 

Preger,  W.    Geschichte  der  deutschen  Mystik  in  Mittelalter,    B.  1-3.    Leipzig, 

1874-93. 
Recejac,  E.      Essai  sur  les  fondements  de  la  Connaissance   Mystique.      Paris, 

1897. 
Translation.    Essay  on  the  bases  of  the  Mystic  Knowledge.    Translated  by  S.  C. 

Upton.     London,  1899. 
(A  very  important  and  original  study  of  the  psychology  of  mysticism.) 
Reinach,  S.     Une  Mystique  au  i8e  Siecle.     (Cultes,  Mythes,  et  Religions.     Paris, 

1906. 
Renda,  Antonio.     II  Pensiero  Mistico.     Milano  e  Palermo,  1902. 
Ribet,  J.    La  Mystique  Divine.     3  tomes.     Paris,  7879. 
(A  standard  Roman  Catholic  work.     Elaborate,  but  uncritical.) 

L'Ascetique  Chretienne.     Paris,  1888. 
Rousselot,  P.    Les  Mystiques  Espagnols.     Paris,  1867. 
Saudreau,  L'Abbe.     La  Vie  d'Union  a  Dieu.     Paris,  1900. 
L'Etat  Mystique.    Paris,  1903. 

Les  faits  extraordinaires  de  la  Vie  Spirituelle.     Paris,  1908. 
Translations.     The  Degrees  of  the  Spiritual   Life,  trans,  by   Dom   Bede  Camm, 

O.S.B.     2  vols.     London,  1907. 
The  Way  that  Leads  to  God,  trans,  by  L.  Yorke  Smith.     London,  1910. 
Scaramelli,  G.  B.     II  direttorio  Mistico.     Roma,  1900. 
Schmolders,    A.    Essai  sur   les   Ecoles    Philosophiques  chez  les  Arabes.     Paris, 

1842. 
(Contains  the  best  account  of  the  Sufi  philosopher,  Al  Ghazzali.) 
Scougal,  Henry.    The  Life  of  God  in  the  Soul  of  Man.     London,  1677. 
Thorold,  Algar.    An  Essay  in  Aid  of  the  better  Appreciation  of  Catholic  Mysticism, 

illustrated  from  the  writings  of  the  Blessed  Angela  of  Foligno.    London, 

1900. 
Tollemache,  M.    Spanish  Mystics.     London,  1886. 

Yaughan,  R.  A.     Hours  with  the  Mystics.     3rd  edition.     2  vols.     London,  1880. 
(Full  of  information,  but  very  unsympathetic  in  tone.) 


580  AN   INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

Yon  Hiigel,  Baron  F.     The   Mystical    Element  of   Religion,  as  studied  in   St. 

Catherine  of  Genoa  and  her  Friends.     2  vols.     London,  1908. 
(Indispensable  to  the  student.      The  best   work    on    Mysticism    in    the   English 

language.) 
Waite,  A.  E.    Studies  in  Mysticism.    London,  1906. 


PART  III 

PHILOSOPHY,   PSYCHOLOGY,   AND  THEOLOGY 

Adam,  James. 

The  Religious  Teachers  of  Greece.    (Grfford  Lectures.)     1908. 
Bergson,  Henri. 

Essai  sur  les  Donnees  immediates  de  la  Conscience.     Paris,  1889. 

Matiere  et  Memoire.     Paris,  1896. 

Introduction  a  la  Metaphysique.     Paris,  1903. 

L'Evolution  Creatrice.    Paris,  1907. 
Translations.     Time  and   Free   Will :   an  Essay  on  the  Immediate  data  o*   Con- 
sciousness, translated  by  F.  L.  Pogson.    London,  1910. 

Matter  and  Memory,  trans,  by  N.  Paul  and  W.  Scott  Palmer.     London,  1910. 

Creative  Evolution,  trans,  by  A.  Mitchell.     London,  191 1. 
Bigg,  Dr.  C. 

The    Christian    Platonists    of  Alexandria.     (Bampton    Lectures).     Oxford, 
1886. 

Neoplatonism.    London,  1895. 
Binet,  A. 

La  Suggestibilite.     Paris,  1900. 
Boutroux,  Emile. 

Science  et  Religion  dans  la  Philosophic  Contemporaine.     Paris,  1908. 
Translation.    Science  and  Religion  in  Contemporary  Philosophy.     Translated  by 

G.  J.  Nield.     London,   1909. 
(Compare  Pt.  I.,  Boehme.) 
Boyce  Gibson,  W.  R. 

An  Introduction  to  Rudolph  Eucken's  Philosophy.     London,  1908. 

God  with  us.     London,  1909. 
Bradley,  F.  H. 

Appearance  and  Reality.     2nd  ed.     London,  1897. 
BrunschYicg,  L. 

Introduction  a  la  Vie  de  l'Esprit.     1900. 
Bucke,  R.  M. 

Cosmic    Consciousness :    a  study  in   the  evolution   or    the    Human  Mind. 
Philadelphia,   1905. 
Caird,  Edward. 

The  Evolution  of  Religion.     2  vols.     (Gilford  Lectures.)    Glasgow,  1893. 

The  Evolution  of  Theology  in  the  Greek  Philosophers.      2  vols.     Glasgow, 
1904. 
Caird,  John. 

Introduction  to  the  Philosophy  of  Religion.    Glasgow,  1880. 

Fundamental  Ideas  of  Christianity.     Glasgow,  1899. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  5S1 

Cutten,  G.  B. 

The  Psychological  Phenomena  of  Christianity.     London,  1909. 
Dewing,  A.  S. 

Life  as  Reality  :  a  Philosophical  Essay.     London,  1910. 
Driesch,  Hans. 

The  Science  and  Philosophy  of  Organism.     2  vols.     (Gifford  Lectures.)    1908. 
Elsee,  G. 

Neoplatonism  in  its  Relation  to  Christianity.     London,  1908. 
Eucken,  Rudolph. 

Die  Einheit  des  Geisteslebens.     Leipzig,  1888. 

Der  Kampf  um  einen  geistigen  Lebensinhalt.     Leipzig,  1896 

Geistige  Stromungen  der  Gegenwart.     Leipzig,  1909. 

Der  Wahrheitsgehalt  der  Religion.     2nd  ed.     Leipzig,  1905. 

Die  Lebensanschauungen  der  Grossen  Denker.     Leipzig,  1909. 

Hauptprobleme  der  Religionsphilosophie  der  Gegenwart.     Berlin,  1907. 

Der  Sinn  und  Wert  des  Lebens.     Leipzig,  1908. 
Translations.    The  Life  of  the  Spirit :  an  Introduction  to  Philosophy.     Translated 
by  F.  L.  Pogson.     2nd  ed.     London,  1909. 
The  Problem  of  Human  Life.  Translated  by  W.  S.  Hough  and  W.  R.  Boyce 
Gibson.     London,  1909. 

The  Meaning  and  Value  of  Life.     Translated  by  L.  J.   and   W.    R.  Boyce 
Gibson.     London,  1909. 

Christianity  and  the  New  Idealism.    Translated  by  L.  J.  and  VV.   R.  Boyce 
Gibson.    New  York,  1909. 
Franck,  A. 

La  Kabbale.     3rd  ed.     Paris,  1892. 
Granger,  F.  G. 

The  Soul  of  a  Christian.     London,  1900. 
Harrison,  Jane  E. 

Prolegomena  to  the  Study  of  Greek  Religion.     Cambridge,  1903. 
Hebert,  M. 

La  forme  idealiste  du  sentiment  religieux.     Paris,  1909. 
Imbert-Gourbeyre,  Dr. 

Les  Stigmatisees.     2  vols.     Paris,  1873. 

La  Stigmatization.     2  vols.     Paris,  1894. 
James,  M.  R. 

Apocrypha  Anecdota.     Series  II.     Cambridge,  1897. 
James,  William. 

The  Principles  of  Psychology.     2  vols.     London,  1890. 

Textbook  of  Psychology.     London,  1892. 

The  Will  to  Believe.     New  York,  1897. 

The  Varieties  of  Religious  Experience.     (Gifford  Lectures.)    London,  1902. 

A  Pluralistic  Universe.     (Hibbert  Lectures.)    London,  1909. 
Janet,  Pierre. 

L'Automatisme  Psychologique.     Paris,  1889. 

L'Etat  Mentale  des  Hysteriques.     2  vols.     Paris,  1893-4. 

Nevroses  et  idees  fixes.     Paris,  1898. 

Une  extatique  (Bulletin  de  l'lnstitut  Psychologique).     Paris,  1901. 

Obsessions  et  Psychasthenic     Paris,  1903. 
Translations.  The  Mental  State  of  Hystericals.     New  York,  1901. 

The  Major  Symptoms  of  Hysteria.     New  York,  1907. 


aS2  AN  INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 

J  as  trow,  J. 

The  Subconscious  :  A  Study  in  Descriptive  Psychology.     London,  1906. 

Jcfferies,  Richard. 

The  Story  of  My  Heart.     2nd  ed.     London,  1891. 

Jundt,  A. 

Histoire  du  panth6isme  populaire  au  moyen  age.     Paris,  1875. 

Ladd,  G.  T. 

An  Introduction  to  Philosophy.     London,  1891. 
The  Philosophy  of  Knowledge.     New  York,  1897. 
The  Philosophy  of  Religion.     2  vols.     New  York,  1905. 

Leroy,  B. 

Nature  des  Hallucinations.     (Revue  Philosophique,  1907.) 
Interpretation  psychologique  des  Visions  Intellectuelles.     (Revue  de  i'Histoire 
des  Religions,  1907.) 

Mead,  G.  R.  S. 

Thrice   Greatest   Hermes:    Studies  in  Hellenistic   Theosophy  and   Gnosis. 
3  vols.     London,  1906. 

The  Hymn  of  Jesus.     (Echoes  from  the  Gnosis.)     London,  1906. 
Munsterberg,  Hugo. 

The  Eternal  Values.     London,  1909. 
Murigier,  H. 

Les.Maladies  des  Sentiments  Religieux.     n.d. 
Myers,  F.  W.  H. 

Human  Personality  and  its  Survival  of  Bodily  Death.  2  vols.  London,  1903. 
Ormond,  A.  T. 

Foundations  of  Knowledge.     London,  1900. 

Plato. 

Opera  Omnia.     Recog.,  &c,  G.  Stallbaumius.     1  vol.     Leipzig,  1881. 

Republic,  with  Notes  and  Introduction  by  J.  Adam.     Cambridge,  1897. 
Translations.     The  Dialogues,    translated    by  B.    Jowett.     3rd   edition.     5  vols. 
Oxford,  1892. 

The  Republic,  translated  by  B.  Jowett.     3rd  edition.     Oxford,  1888. 
Prince,  Morton. 

The  Dissociation  of  a  Personality.     New  York,  1906. 
Raymond,  G.  L. 

The  Psychology  of  Inspiration.     1908. 
Rhode,  Erwin.    Psyche.    Ed.  1898. 
Ribot,  T. 

Les  Maladies  de  la  Memoire.     Paris,  1881. 

Les  Maladies  de  la  Volonte.     Paris,  1883. 

Les  Maladies  de  la  Personnalite.     Paris,  1885. 

Psychologie  de  1' Attention.     Paris,  1889. 

Essai  sur  l'imagination  creatrice.     Paris,  1900. 
Translations.     Diseases  of  Memory.     London,  1882. 

Diseases  of  the  Will.    2nd  edition.    Chicago,  1896. 

The  Diseases  of  Personality.     Chicago,  1891. 

The  Psychology  of  Attention.     Chicago,  1890. 

Essay  on  the  Creative  Imagination.     1906. 
Rolleston,  T.  W. 

Parallel  Paths  :  a  study  in  biology,  ethics,  and  art.     London,  1908. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  583 

Royce,  Josiah. 

Studies  of  Good  and  Evil.     New  York,  1898. 

The  World  and  the  Individual.     (Gifford  Lectures.)    2  vols.     London,  1900. 
Schiller,  F.  C.  S. 

Humanism.     London,  1903. 

Plato  or  Protagoras.     Oxford,  1908. 

Schofield,  A.  T. 

The  Unconscious  Mind.     London,  1899. 

Seglas. 

Phenomenes  dits  Hallucinations  psychiques  (Congres  de  Psychologie).     Paris, 
1901. 
Segond,  J.     La  Priere  :  etude  de  psychologie  religieuse.     Paris,  191 1. 
Starbuck,  E.  T. 

The  Psychology  of  Religion.     2nd  edition.     London,  1901. 

Stewart,  J.  A. 

The  Myths  of  Plato.    London,  1905. 
Plato's  Doctrine  of  Ideas.     London,  1909. 

Taylor,  H.  0. 

The  Mediaeval  Mind.     2  vols.     London,  191 1. 

Thomas  Aquinas,  Saint. 

Summa  Theologica  diligenter  emendata.     Nicolai,  Sylvii,  Billuart  et  Drioux, 

notis  ornata.     8  vols.     Paris,  1880. 
Summa  contra  Gentiles.     Paris,  1877. 
Translations.      Compendium    of   the    Summa    Theologica,    Pars    Prima,    by    B. 

Bonjoannes.   Translated  by  R.  R.  Carlo  Falcini,  and  revised  by  Father 

W.  Lescher.     London,  1905. 
Aquinas  Ethicus :  Moral  teachings  of  St.  Thomas.  Translation  of  the  principle 

portion  of  Pt.  II.  of  Summa  Theologica,  with  notes,  by  Father  J.  Rickaby,SJ. 

2  vols.     London,  1892. 
Of  God  and  His  Creatures :  an  annotated  translation  of  the  Summa  Contra 

Gentiles,  by  Father  J.  Rickaby,  S.J.     London,  1905. 

Tulloch,  J. 

Rational  Theology  and  Christian  Philosophy  in   England  in  the  seventeenth 
century.     2  vols.     Edinburgh,  1872. 

Waite,  A.  E. 

The  Doctrine  and  Literature  of  the  Kabalah.     London,  1902. 

Ward,  James. 

Naturalism  and  Agnosticism.     (Gifford  Lectures.)    2  vols.     London,  1889. 

Westcott,  W.  W. 

An  Introduction  to  the  Study  of  the  Kabalah.     London,  1910. 

Whateley,  A.  R. 

The  Inner  Light.     London,  1908. 

Whittaker,  T. 

The  Neoplatonists :  a  study  in  the  History  of  Hellenism.     Cambridge,  1901. 


584  AN   INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 

PART  IV 

ALCHEMY 

Anonymous 

The  Hermetic  Museum  restored  and  enlarged.    Translated  by  A.  E.  Waite. 
2  vols.     1893. 
(A  reissue  of  an  old  collection  of  alchemic  tracts.) 

A  Revelation  of  the  Secret  Spirit  of  Alchemy.     London,  1523. 

A  Short  Enquiry  Concerning  the  Hermetic  Art.     (Reprint.)     1894. 

A  Suggestive  Enquiry  into  the  Hermetic  Mystery.     London,  1850. 
(This  curious  treatise  by  the  late  Mrs.  Atwood,  was  suppressed  by  its  author  and  is 
now  scarce.) 

The  Turba  Philosophorum  or  Assembly  of  the  Sages.    Translated  by  A.  E. 
Waite.     London.     N.d. 
Ashmole,  Elias. 

Theatrum  Chemicum  Britannicum^  1652. 
Barrett,  F. 

Lives  of  the  Alchemistical  Philosophers,     1815. 
(Includes  a  long  bibliography,  and  translations  of  numerous  alchemic  tracts.) 
Figuier,  L. 

L'Alchemie  et  les  Alchemistes.     Paris,  1856. 
Figulur,  B. 

A  Golden  and  Blessed  Casket  of  Nature's  Marvels.    Edited  by  A.  E.  Waite. 
London.    N.d. 
Hitchcock. 

Remarks  on  Alchemy  and  the  Alchemists.     1865. 
Kelly,  E. 

The  Alchemical  Writings  of.    Edited  by  A.  E.  Waite.     1893. 
Paracelsus. 

Hermetic  and  Alchemical  Writings  of.   Edited  by  A.  E.  Waite.   2  vols.    1894. 
Philalethes,  Eirenaeus  (i.e.,  George  Starkey). 

The  Marrow  of  Alchemy.     London,  1709. 
Redgrove,  Stanley.    Alchemy  Ancient  and  Modern.    London,  191 1. 
Yalentinus. 

The  Triumphal  Chariot  of  Antimony.     Translated  by  A.  E.  Waite.     1893. 
Waite,  A.  E. 

Azoth,  or  the  Star  in  the  East.     London,  1893. 

Lives  of  Aichemystical  Philosophers.     London,  1888.    (Full  bibliography.) 
Willis,  T. 

Theophysical  Alchemy.     London,  1616. 


PART  V 

MAGIC 
Hartmann,  P. 

Magic,  White  and  Black :  or  the  Science  of  Finite  and  Infinite  Life.     1904. 
Hermetis  Trismegisti. 

Seven  Chapters.     London,  1692. 
Honorins  III.  (attributed  to). 

Grimoire  du  Pape  Honorius.     1800. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  585 

Levi,  Eliphas. 

Dogme  et  Rituel  de  la  Haute  Magie.    2  vols.    2nd  edition.     Paris,  1861. 

Histoire  de  la  Magie.     Paris,  i860. 

La  Clef  des  Grands  Mysteres.     Paris,  1861. 

Le  Livre  des  Splendeurs.     Paris,  1894. 
Translations.    The  Mysteries  of  Magic:  a  digest  of  the  writings  of  E.   Levi,  by 
A.  E.  Waite.     London,  1886. 

Transcendental  Magic.     Translated  by  A.  E.  Waite.     London,  1896. 

The  Magical  Ritual  of  the  Sanctum  Regnum.     Edited  by  W.  W.  Westcott. 
1896. 
Papas. 

Traite  Elementaire  de  Science  Occulte.     Paris,  1903. 

Qu  est-ce  que  l'occultisme  ?    Paris,  1900. 

L'occultisme  et  le  Spiritualisme.     Paris,  1902. 

Pazic,  G. 

Treatyse  of  Magic  incantations.     (Reprint.)     1886. 
Sepharial.    A  Manual  of  Occultism.     London,  191 1. 
Steiner,  Rudolph. 

The  Way  of  Initiation.    Translated  from  the  German  by  Max  Gysi.     London, 
1908. 

Initiation  and  its  Results  :  A  Sequel  to  The  Way  of  Initiation.    London,  1909. 
Yaughan,  Thomas  (Eugenius  Philalethes). 

Lumen  de  Lumine.     London,  1651. 

Aula  Lucis,  or  the  House  of  Light.     London,  1652. 

Magical  Writings.     (Reprint.)     London  and  Edinburgh,  1888. 
Yenetiana,  Antoine. 

Le  Grand  Grimoire.     1845. 
Waite,  A.  E. 

The  Occult  Sciences.     London,  1891. 

The  Book  of  Black  Magic.    Edinburgh,  1898. 

The  Book  of  Ceremonial  Magic  ;  including  the  Rites  and  Mysteries  of  Goetic 
Theurgy  and  Sorcery,  and  Infernal  Necromancy.     London,  191 1. 


INDEX 


Absolute,  The,  27,  48,  8b,  86,  97,  1 10, 
116,  124,  132,  139,  144,  276,  301  seq., 

535 
and  mysticism,  28,  44,  50,  126,  129, 151, 

461  seq.,  537 
and  vitalism,  34 
fruition  of,  41,  406,  446 
apprehension  of,  43,  100,  208,  290  seq., 

362,  451,  464 
search  for,  54,  169,  322,  500 
union  with,  61,  108,  174,  212,  240,  294, 

371,  480,  534 
man  and,  65,  122,  265,  275,  286,  346, 

395 

love  of,  85,  103,  287,  399,  415 

immanent,  118,  119,  212,  230  seq. 

and  Christianity,  128,  141  seq. 

its  desire  of  man,  1 58 

awakening  to,  205,  279 

and  contemplation,  397 

and  ecstasy,  447 
Abyss,  The,  86,  100,  102,  116,   146,  276, 
308,  385,  400  seq.,  404,  411  seq.,  423 
480,  508 
Adolescence,  460 
Ain  Soph,  116 
Albertus  Magnus,  170,  364 
Alchemists,    Spiritual,    153,   167  seqf,  272 

48o,  517,  558 
Alchemy,  122,  168  seq.,  464,  500 
Al  Ghazzali,  59,  99,  207,  254,  551 

his  purgation,  272 
Allegory,  154  seq.,  343,  547 
Ambrose,  St.,  328 
Ancesthesia,  271,  393,  429 
Analogy,  191 

Angela  of  Foligno,  261,  321,  323,  332  seq  , 
35L  396,  447,  468,  470,  55o»  559  seq- 


her  visions,  302,  338  seq.,  345,  407,  409 

on  contemplation,  418 
Anthony  of  Padua,  St.,  321,  346 
Aquinas,  see  Thomas 
Archetypal  World,  186,  315  seq. 
Areopagite,  see  Dionysius 
Aridity,  290,  457,  467 
Aristotle,  55,  123 
Arius,  126 
d'Ars,  Cure,  248 
Art,  Function  of,  88  seq. 
Artists,  285,  464,  533 

and  mystics,  90 

and  illumination,  206,  287,  310 

and  vision,  325,  342 

and  contemplation,  360 

and  ecstasy,  464 
Asceticism,  69,  248,  260,  270  seq.,  280 
Astral  Light,  185  seq. 
Athanasius,  St.,  502 
'Attar,  156,  272,  551 
Atwood,  Mrs.,  170 
Auditions,  79,  93,  218,  224,  289,  319^., 

327  seq.,  368,  397,  447,  468 
Augustine,  St.,  25,  59,  105,  III,  117,  120, 
125,    137,    154.    I58»   216,  26l>  288, 
298,   300.    303,   3*i»   4Qi>    502  seq., 
545,  559 

on  God,  46 

on  Trinity,  133 

on  Love,  140 

vision,  395 
Automatic  composition,  95,  289,  319,  333, 
351  seq. 

examples,  78  seq.,  352  seq. 
Automatism,  76,   194,  289,  306,   320  seq., 

468 
Autoscopes,  191 


588 


AN  INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 


'Aziz  bin  Mahommed  Nafasi,  155 
Azoth,  172 

Baker,  Ven.  Augustine,  349,  369,  432, 

559 
on  contemplation,  365 
on  quiet,  386 
on  Dark  Night,  461 
Basil  the  Monk,  172 
Beatific  Vision,  115,  157,  229,  236,  400, 

406,  457,  464.  5<A  524.  551 
Beauty,  23  seq.t  269,  276,  284,  310,  408 
Plato  on,  25,  260 
awakening  to,  216 
Divine,  237,  347 
Becoming,   World  of,   42  seq.,   87,    118, 
121,   232,   267,    281,   286,  309,  365, 
438,  480,  518,  536  seq. 
Being — 
Eckhart  on,  5,  in 

Pure,  47  seq.,   87,  117,   120,  122,  130 
*ti  299»   308,   363,   396,  438,  499. 
543 
Science  of,  181 
union  with,  380,  412 
world  of,  405,  409,  480,  518 
and  Becoming,  33,  44,  49,  77,  80,  136, 

139,  246,  289,  406 
and  Mysticism,  454,  534 
Berger,  106 
Bergson,  31,  34,  36 

Bernard,  St.,  59,  89,  210,  260,  290,  388, 
396,  495.  546,  548  seq.,  559 
on  love,  104 
on  God,  no,  136,  293 
on  Spiritual  Marriage,  163 
on  ecstasy,  363 
Bernadette  of  Lourdes,  429 
Betrothal,    Spiritual,    164  seq.,  289,  295, 

327 

Bhagavad  Gita,  186 
Binyon,  L.,  88 
Birds  and  Mystics,  312  seq. 
Blake,  William,  95,  124,  128,  138,  186, 
202,   204,   210,   231,   284,  286,  289, 
305.   308,   311,   320,  334,  351   seq., 
424,  558,  568 
automatic  writing,  79 
on  art,  88 

on  Incarnation,  127 
his  illumination,  282  seq. 


Blake,  William  (contd.\— 

on  Nature,  310 

his  visions,  335 
Blosius,  556 
Blood,  B.  P.,  443 

Boehme,  Jacob,  68,  in,  115,  124,  144, 
147,  168,  171  seq.,  186,  192,  276, 
281,  286,  290,  311,  316,  367,  415, 
417.  558  seq.,  562 

his  ecstasy,  69 

on  recollection,  77,  374 

on  immanence,  120 

on  Incarnation,  142 

on  New  Birth,  148 

his  purgation,  273 

illumination,  306  seq. 

automatic  composition,  355 

on  deification,  504 
Bonaventura,  St.,  127,  148,  157,  549^. 
Bossuet,  559 
Bourignan,  Antoinette,  259,  366,  560 

her  renunciation,  256 
Boutroux,  E.,  47 
Boyce  Gibson,  74,  119,  123 

on  Eucken,  40,  64 
Brethren  of  Free  Spirit,  126,  179 
Browne,  Sir  T.,  170,  176,  193 
Browning,  303 
Bucke,  R.  M.,  232,  306 
Bunyan,  155 

Catalepsy,  429 
Catherine  of  Alexandria,  St.,  349 
Catherine  of  Genoa,  St.,  93,  95,  100,  151, 
153,  210,   214,   221,  276,   302,  396, 
474,  522,  550,  556,  560 
her  fasts,  71 
on  love,  no 

her  conversion,  219,  236  seq, 
purgation,  242,  264,  270 
on  Purgatory,  244,  266 
her  illumination,  296  seq, 
ecstasies,  432,  435 
on  mystic  way,  528  seq. 
Catherine  of  Siena,  St.,  23,  75,  100,  103, 
121,   210,   266,  274,  322,  356,   429, 
432,  447,  450,  475  seq.,  493,  495,  504, 
522,  524,  548,  553,  556 
on  union,  45,  436 
her  fasts,  71 
mystic  marriage  of,  95,  327,  348 


INDEX 


589 


Catherine  of  Siena  {contd.) — 

on  Incarnation,  143 

mystic  life,  2 1 1 

on  self-knowledge,  241 

her  visions,  324,  468 

Dialogue,  352 

ecstasies,  435  seq. 
Catholicism,  558 

and  magic,  197  seq. 
Character,  247,  262 

adjustment,  247,  366 

remaking,  261,  455,  473,  498  seq. 

in  quiet,  386 

purgation,  463  seq. 

ofunitives,  514  seq. 
Chastity,  247,  262 
Christ,  131,  138,  141,   153,  281,  411,  467, 

493 

life  of,  and  mystics,  144,  535 

humanity  of,  144,  326,  340 

Eternal,  159 

indwelling,  171 

visions  of,  334,  340  seq. 
Christian  mysticism,  see  Mysticism 
Christian  science,  188 
Christianity,  267,  284,  411 

and  Mysticism,  125  seq.,  535,  543 

and  philosophy,  126  seq. 

and  magic,  184,  197 

and  deification,  501  seq. 
Church,  199 

and  magic,  198 
Clairvoyance,  186,  307,  353 
Cleanthes,  127 

Clement  of  Alexandria,  St.,  125,  543 
Cloud  of  Unknowing,  The,  57,  400,  402, 

415*7.,  548^7.,  555 
Cognition,  55,  80 
Columba  Rieti,  556 
Common  Life,  Brotherhood  of,  554 
Conation,  55,  80,  375 
Consciousness — 

mystical,  twofold,  42  seq.,  107,  235, 
259,  273,  289,  402,  411,  470,  518 

transcendental,  60  seq.,  65,  80,  83,  112, 
256  seq.,  290  seq.,  355,1  370,  459, 
464,  532 

alteration  of,  67,  69,  280,  353 

field  of,  67,  70,  80  seq.,  108,  213,  393, 
428 

threshold  of,  68,  74,  80,  88,  194,  375,  430 


Consciousness  (contd.) — 

oscillations  of,  in  mystics,  204  seq,  215, 
273  seq.,  286,  303,  454,  457,  533 

movement  of,  205,  315,  357,  454,  461, 
481 

Mystic,  its  awakening,  213  seq. 
growth,  317 

Cosmic,  232,  306 

unification  of,  368,  434,  437 

in  introversion,  375  seq.,  379  seq.,  394, 401 

ecstatic,  442 
Constant,  A.  L.,  see  Levi,  Eliphas 
Contemplation,  61,  66,  80  seq.,  112,  119, 
223,  289,  292,  338,  353,  358  seq.,  374, 
393  seq.,  402  seq.,  407  seq.,  427,  440, 
448,  454  seq.,  469,  530 

its  nature,  59 

its  function,  66,  69,  395 

passive,  77 

forms  of,  109,  393,  400 

stages  of,  206,  365 

infused,  294 

an  experiment  in,  360  seq. 

dark,  397,  413  seq.,  421, 457 

marks  of,  397 

descriptions  of,  400  seq. 

method  of  413  seq. 

and  ecstasy,  433,  439,  446 
Con  templative — 

life,  155,  204,  238 

state,  157 

experience,  396 
Contemplatives,  209,  518,  543 
Conversion,  80,   194,  213  seq.,  276,  279, 
323,  374, 449,  493 

two  types  of,  235 
Counter-reformation,  557 
Cutten,  G.  B.,  62,71 

Dance,  Mystic,  278,  281 
Dante,  42,  47,  89,  122,  125,  138,  144,  154. 
160,   308,   367,  396,   410,  423,   438, 
440.  493>  497  seq.,  501  seq.,  520,  523, 
53o,  549,  551 
on  emanation,  1 16  seq. 
and  mystic  way,  156  seq. 
Purgatorio,  241,  244  seq. 
on  Divine  Light,  299 
his  vision  of  God,  301,  406  seq. 
and  symbolic  vision,  343 
on  mystic  joy,  524 


590 


AN   INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 


Dark  Night  of  Soul,  145,  206,  275,  290, 
371,453^.,  480,  497 

mystic  aspect  of,  462  see/.,  472 

Suso  and,  482  seq. 
Deification,  119,  122,  166,  207,  212,452, 

479,  496  seq. 
Deified  man,  174,  176 
Delacroix,  17,  291,  347,  369,  498,  501 

on  mystics,  75,  208 

on  St.  Teresa,  130 

on  automatism,  327 

on  contemplation,  394 
Denis  the  Carthusian,  276,  435,  554,  556 
Detachment,  155,  247  seq.,  475  seq. 
Devotion,  155 

Dialogue,  mystical,  289,  319,  322  seq. 
Dionysius  the  Areopagite,  54,  77,  94,  116, 
1*1,    125,   157,   208,  227,   303,    380, 
383.  403.  S45»  550.  554  seq. 

on  surrender,  no 

on  ignorance,  in 

on  Divine  Love,  238 

on  Divine  Dark,  301,  413  seq. 

on  contemplation,  398 
Disintegrated  Personality,  see   Personality 
Dissociation,  Mental,  333 
Divine  Absence,  see  God,  Absence  of 
Divine  Dark,  86,  117,  157,  208,  301,  380, 
400  seq.,  414,  422,  425,  546 

its  meaning,  415 
Divine  Fecundity,  166,  207,  209,  512  seq., 
538 

examples  of,  516 
Divine  Humanity,  463  seq.,  474,  538 
Divine  Ignorance,  see  Ignorance 
Divine  Principle,  120 
Divine  Union,  see  Union 
Douceline,  St.,  260,  549 
Driesch,  Hans,  31 

Ebner,  Margaret,  323,  554 
Eckartshausen,  C.  von,  147,  561 
Eckhart,  6,  38,  77,  98,  158,  162,  210,  227, 
276,  306,  364,  373,  38o  seq.,  410,  465, 
551  seq. 

on  Being,  5,111 

on  silence,  45,  77 

on  immanence,  121 

on  Holy  Spirit,  140 

on  Eternal  Birth,  146 

on  purity,  248 


Eckhart  (eontd.) — 

on  detachment,  252 

on  union,  441 

on  deification,  502 
Ecstasy,  38,  67  seq.,  72  seq.,  96,  112,  153, 
157,  194,  275,  292, 337,  358,  363,  393, 
425,  427  seq.,  454,  457,  544 

creative,  76 

function  of,  129,  452 

and  union,  207 

examples,  226,  229,  432  seq. 

and  purgation,  272  seq. 

its  psychology,  431  seq. 

and  mysticism,  438  seq. 

and  contemplation,  446 

dark,  471 
Ecstatics,  440 
Elizabeth  of  Schoenau,  548 
Emanation,  116  seq. 

psychology  and,  118 

and  immanence,  123  seq. 
Emotion,  53,  57 

conative,  55 

and  symbolism,  151 

and  mysticism,  161 

and  contemplation,  400 
Entelechy,  46 
Epistle  of  Discretion,  102 

of  Private  Counsel,  382 

of  Prayer,  511 
Erigena,  John  Scotus,  133,  311,  316   546 
Eucken,  Rudolph,  31,  41,   64,   66,   135, 
136,  148,  236,  496,  498,  501 

on  Reality,  24,  40 

on  spiritual  life,  39,  64 
Euripides,  284 
Evocation,  189,  194 

Faith  and  life,  18 

Fasting,  71,  242 

Father,  The,  48,  130,  138  seq.,  364,  406 

Feeling — 
thought  and  will,  80,  371,  394,  523 
and  mysticism,  85,  400  seq.,  438 

Fenelon,  559 

Field    of    Consciousness,    see    Conscious- 
ness 

Fire,  Mystic,  33,  137,  148,  168,  228,  266, 
277,  308,  503 
of  Love,  see  Love 

Flowers,  Mystics  and,  260,  306 


INDEX 


591 


Fox,  George,  210,  214  sty.,  273,  286,  306, 
495,  557  seg. 
his  illumination,  309 
Francis  of  Assisi,  St.,  92,  210,  236,  248, 
254,  256,  260,  285,  288,  290,  320  seg. 
331  seg.,  435.  5*4,  5!7>  523  «?•»  549, 
556 
his  character  and  conversion,  217 
on  poverty,  251 
purgation,  269 
and  animals,  311  seg. 
stigmata,  320,  348,  447 
his  joy,  526  seg. 
Francis  de  Sales,  St.,  221,  471,  559 
Francis  Xavier,  St.,  267 
Franck,  Sebastian,  356 
Fraticelli,  126 

Freedom,    31,    34    seg.,    155,   239,   250, 
275,   280,    335,    359,   366,   392  seg., 
426,    438,    443,   483,   497   seg.,    524, 
532  seg.,  536 
Freyer,  D.  A.,  561 

Friends  of  God,  223,  441,  491,  517,  553 
Fruition,  41,  53,  210,  412,  425  seg.,  446, 

499  seg.,  519*??. 
Ftinklein,  64 

Game  of  Love,  see  Love 
Gardner,  Edmund,  71,  322,  352 
Gemuth,  64 
Genius,  75  seg.,  78,  453 

and  mysticism,  78,  87,  280 

spiritual,  124,  127,  214,  283,  366,  448, 

515 
and  ecstasy,  437 
Gertrude,  St.,  409,  465,  548,  551 
Gertrude,  Nun,  546 
Gichtel,  John,  561 

Gnosticism,  69,  126,  179,  184,  186,  543 
God,   116,  126,  129,  286,  395,  407,  501, 

535 
union  with,  see  Union 
love  of,  see  Love 
as  Being,  44,  48,  152,  402 
mystics  and,  46,  134  seg.,  229 
knowledge  of,  57,  100 seg.,  155,  441  seg. 
transcendent,    116  seg.,    123,  235,  302, 

402,  4",4I5 
immanent,  iiZseg.,  124,  152,316,408^/. 
names  of,  124,  127,  198 
needs  man,  158  seg.,  161,  508 


God  (contd.)— 
absence  of,  206,  449,  464  seg.,  470  seg., 

490 
absorption  in,  207 
presence  of,  222,  288,  290 seg.,  339,  376, 

456  seg. 
glory  of,  232 
craving  for,  299,  318 
in  quiet,  382 
sons  of,  519 
Godfernaux,  53,  89,  323,  431 
Godhead,    Unconditioned,   48,    121,    132, 
144,  157,  208,  411,  413,  519,  521 
vision  of,  131,  406 
aspects  of,  132  seg.,  402 
emanations  of,  315 
desert  of,  364,  403,  406 
and  God,  410 
Ruysbroeck  on,  412 
see  also  Abyss  and  Absolute 
Grail,  quest  of,  154 
Granger,  F.,  320 
Gravitation,  spiritual,  158,  162 
Green  lion,  174,  272 
Gregory  of  Nyssa,  12^,  316 
Gregory  the  Great,  546 
Groot,  Gerard,  554 
Ground  of  Soul,  see  Soul 
Guyon,  Madame,  109,  214,  237,  274,  286, 
296,  351,  385»  465  seg.,  475,  479  s«i.% 
487,  493,  559  seg.,  562 
on  contemplation,  y7,  389 
automatic  writing,  78,  353  seg. 
youth  and  conversion,  220  seg. 
and  St.  Catherine  of  Genoa,  221 
purgation,  270  seg. 
on  visions  and  voices,  328,  337 
dark  night,  457  seg. 
on  union,  515 

Hafiz,  551 

Hall,  Bishop,  559 

Hazlitt,  193 

Heart,  85,  1 12,  151,  338,  464 

reality  known  of,  57,  292 

and  mysticism,  106,  371,  523 
Heat,  mystic,  233 
Hebert,  M.,  91 
Hegel  on  beauty,  24 
Helfde,  548 
Henry  of  Nordlingen,  554 


592 


AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 


Heracleitus,  12,  45,  127,  139,  286 

and  vitalism,  32,  34  seq. 
Hermes  Trismegistus,  170,  184,  191 
Hermetic  art,  see  Alchemy 

books,  28,  184 

science,  183  seq. 
Hervey,  Christopher,  135 
Higher  Thought,  see  New  Thought 
Hildegarde,  St.,  74,  138,  299,  548 
Hilton,  Walter,  60,  104,    158,    161,  241, 
265,  317.  386,  397,  408  seq.,  415  ftp* 
479.  512,  555 

on  pilgrimage,  154 

on  presence  of  God,  291 

on  automatisms,  335 

on  contemplation,  367  seq.f  399 
Holland,  B.,  140 
Holy  Spirit,  131,  139  seq. 
t(  Hound  of  Heaven,"  161 
Hugh  of  St.  Victor,  154,  369,  546 

on  music,  91 

on  contemplation,  109,  294 
Humanity,  path  of,  490 
Humility,    241,  253,   266,  274,  302  seq., 

379,  403,  415,  478,  530 
Huysmans,  J.  K.,  267,  325 
Hymn  of  Jesus,  159,  281,  543 
Hypnotic  states,  69  seq. 
Hysteria  and  mystics,  70,  72,  430 

Idealism,  13  seq. 

Ignatius  Loyola,  St.,  210,  495,  514,  517, 

523,  557 
his  lucidity,  69 
mortifications,  271 

visions,  326  [546 

Ignorance,  Divine,  in,  381,  402,406,  415, 
Illumination,  State  of,  155  seq.,  166,  206, 
231  seq.,  249,  257,  274  seq.,  279  seq., 
371,  406,  454  seq.,  457,  463,  470,  473 
and  alchemy,  173 
its  nature,  240,  298 
characteristics,  282,  288 
transcendental,  300  seq. 
Illuminative  Way,  see  Illumination 
Immanence,  42,   48,   1 16,    118  seq.,  124, 
129,  289,  300 
psychology  and,  119 

consciousness  of,  216,  231,  237,  282,  309, 
339,  408  seq. 
See  also  Absolute  and  God 


Incarnation,  The,  127  seq.,  141  seq.,  424 

and  deification,  502 
Independent    spiritual  life,    39,  66,   397, 
536 

spiritual  world,  27,  205 
Indifference,  248,  268 seq.,  386,  389  «?.,  493 
Inge,  Dr.  W.  R.,  64 
Initiation,  187  seq. 
Inspiration,  76,  282,  351,  358 
Intellect,  53  seq. 

Bergson's  theory  of,  36 

darkness  of,  460  seq. 

satisfaction  of,  523 
Introversion,   1 19,  300,  362  seq.,  522 
Intuition,  39,76,  155,  311,  329^.,  366,  433 
Irenseus,  125 

Jacopone  da  Todi,  145,  210,  264,  299,  549 

on  poverty,  250 

on  ecstasy,  446  seq. 
Jacques  of  la  Massa,  285 
James,  William,  8  seq.,  118 

on  mysticism,  96,  396 
Jamf,  97,  151,  551 
Janet,  Pierre,  71  seq.,  320 
Jeanne  Francoise  de  Chantal,  St.,  221,  456, 

559 
Jefferies,  Richard,  232,  236 
Jelalu  'd  'Din,  38, 104, 160, 415, 464, 509, 551 
Jerome,  St.,  15 
Jerusalem,  148,  154,  399 
Joan  of  Arc,  Blessed,  210,  331,  495,  514, 

556 
John,  St.,  Gospel  of,  300,  543 
John  of  Parma,  285 

John  of  the  Cross,  St.,  94,  107,  no,  166, 
196,   210,   245,  265,   276,  418,   423, 
463,  481,  487,  527,  557 
poems  quoted,  99,  284,  420,  442 
on  detachment,  249,  255 
on  attachments,  256 
on  automatisms,  329  seq.,  336 
on  dark  contemplation,  421 
on  Dark  Night,  465,  467,  477 
Jones,  Rufus,  115,  223  seq.,  320 
Joy,  Mystic,  229,  287,  304,  408,  423,  493,^ 

523  seq. 
Julian  of  Norwich,  43,  81,  107,  121,  159, 
244,  288,  290,  297,  302  seq.,  310,  322, 
332,  361,  363^.,  435,  555 
on  Trinity,  133  seq. 


INDEX 


593 


Julian  of  Norwich  {contd.f — 

on  Incarnation,  143 

visions,  324 
Jundt,  A.,  224 

Kabalah,  the,  184,  186,  192 

Kabalists,    76,    115   seq.,    123,     129,    315 

seq. 
Kant,  70,  360 
Kempe,  Margery,  270,  554 
Knowledge,  52  seq. 

desire  of,  52  seq.,  85,  107,  180 

by  union,  81,  100 

renouncement  of,  1 1 1 

transcendental,  322,  361,  394,  399 

law  of,  408,  533 

and  ecstasy,  441,  449 

Law,  William,  61,  168,  299.  316,  474,  558, 
56i 

on  Trinity,  137 
Lawrence,   Brother,  228,    235,  289,  295, 
303>  560 

character  and  conversion,  230 
Lead,  Jane,  147,  559,  562 
Leuba,  56 

on  mystics,  109  seq.,  112 
Levi,  Eliphas,  184  seq.,  193  seq. 
Levitation,  224,  449  seq. 
Liberty,  see  Freedom 
Life 

and  vitalism,  34  seq. 

transcendent,  64,  138,  537 

enhancement  of,  88,  96,  in,  208  283, 
395,  432,  451,  496,  513  seq. 

of  the  All,  232,  281,  361,  437 

Absolute,  283,  311,  373,  379,  481 

and  rhythm,  334 

mystic  and,  535 
Light,  Inward,  120,  421 

uncreated,  86,  137,  287,  368,  408,  504 

mystic,  21 6,  298  seq.,  347 
Light,  life,  and  love,  132,  229,  287,  407 
Liturgies,  189  seq. 
Logos,  33  seq.,  45,  131  seq.,  138  seq.,  142, 

159,  281,  328 
Love — 

Spirit  of,  see  Holy  Spirit 

and  pain,  22,  266  seq. 

desire  of,  52  seq. ,  85 

active,  55  seq.,  102 
QQ 


Love  (contd.) — 

mystic,  58,  84  seq.,  87,  92,  96,  101  seq., 
no  seq.,  152,  236,  251,  317  seq.,  336, 
372,  396,  4Jo>  424.  464,  Sio  seq., 
523 

of  God,  81,  85,  97,  102,  219,  230,  269. 
445  >  496 

divine,  124,  237 

as  Holy  Spirit,  139  seq. 

symbols  of,  153,  162  seq. 

mutual,  155,  158 

following,  161  seq. 

Four  Degrees  of,  165,  369,  376,  379,  391, 
452 

Fire  of,  228,  237,  500 

as  reality,  242 

game  of,  274,  343,  457 

pure,  276,  297,  373,  389,  396,  480,  493 

vision  of,  334 

in  orison,  366,  374,  395 

language  of,  509 

and  fruition,  521  seq. 

law  ci",  535 

wine-press  of,  562 
Lucia  of  Narni,  556 
Lucidity,  Mystic,  69  seq.,  214,  286,  305 

seq.,  309,  429,  433.456,  466 
Luis  de  Leon,  258 
Lydwine  of  Schiedam,  St.,  267,  556 

visions,  325 


Machen,  Arthur,  62 
Maeterlinck,  M.,  405 
Magdalenadei  Pazzi,  St.,  267 
Magic,  83  seq.,  97,  100,  178  seq. 

and  religion,  182 

and  psychology,  189  seq. 

spells,  190 

therapeutics,  195 

and  suffering,  196 

and  Christianity,  197 

education,  316 
Magnum  Opus,  see  Alchemy 
Magus,  171 

Malaval,  65,  305,  431,  561 
Man  and  reality,  40,  43 

and  alchemy,  171 
Mantra,  189 

Margaret  Mary,  St.,  321 
Marriage  of  soul,  see  Spiritual  Marriage 


594 


AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 


Martinists,  185 

Maury,  433 

Mead,  G.  R.  S.,  159 

Mechthild  of  Hackborn,  St.,  37,  236,  548 

visions,  344 
Mechthild  of  Magdeburg,   99,   107,   127, 
161,  210,  248  seq.,  286,  288,  299  seq., 
333  j^.,  409,  470,  503,  548 
on  mystic  pain,  73 
on  love,  no 
on  orison,  410 
Meditation,  58,   189,  372,  375  seq.,  387, 

390 
Mediums,  79,  352  seq. ,  430 
Mental  Healing,  189,  195 
Menticulture,  183,  188 
Mercury  of  the  Wise,  172 
Merswin,  Rulman,  116,  214,  235  seq.,  243, 
352,  449  seq.,  457,  470,  480,  554 
his  Vision  of  Nine  Rocks,  118,  157,  246, 

343.  441 

conversion,  223 

psychology,  224 

penances,  274 
Metapsychic  phenomena,  187 
Microcosm,  118,  122,  191 
Mirror  of  St.  Edmund,  366 
Mirror  of  Simple  Souls,  89,  263,  403,  408, 

473.  497,  Sio,  523,  5SO 
Missal,  142,  198,  328 
Molinos,  387,  560 
Monet,  315 

Monoideism,  70,  72,  296,  433,  437,  446 
More,  Gertrude,  71,  92,  105  seq.,  153,  298, 

558 
Mortification,  205,  225,  242,  247,  261  seq., 

280,  474 
Music  and  Mysticism,  90  seq.,  321,  401, 

535 
Myers,  F.,  428 
Mysteries,  The,  183,  188,  283,  543 

Orphic,  28,  509,  543 

Dionysiac,  69,  284,  428 
Mystic — 

marriage,  see  Spiritual 

philosophy,  see  Philosophy 

vision,  42  seq.,  160 

type,  58,  108,  268,  273,  275 

sense,  59  seq.,  63  seq. 

feeling,  87 

literature,  95,  288,  396,  547 


Mystic  (contd.) — 

experience,  108,  303,  401 

education,  109,  358  seq.,  370 

life  process,  109,  371 

quest,  in,  123,  153^. 

theology,  139,  seq. 

death,  206,  457,  466,  480 

life,  first,  206,  275,  286,  35S,  371,  454 

life,  second,  275,  454,  483 
~  language,  400 

development,  454  seq. 

heritage,  518 
Mystic  Way,  96,  98,  108,  112,  152,  203, 
212,  365,  455,  498,  510^7.,  518,  528 
seq.,  534  seq. 

and  life  of  Christ,  145 

and  alchemy,  173 

stages  of,  204  seq. 

end  of,  530 
Mystic,  The,  see  also  Mystics 

his  mechanism,  58  seq. 

as  genius,  78,  461 

defined,  89  seq. 

his  states,  204 

great,  mark  of,  211 

and  visions  and  voices,  321  seq.,  335 

and  artistic  expression,  326  seq. 

and  orison,  388,  394  seq. 

and  ecstasy,  442  seq. 

and  Dark  Night,  462  seq. ,  472 

mature,  518 
Mysticism — 

its  doctrines,  27,  112,  122 

and  vitalism,  41  > 

its  nature,  84  seq.,  96  seq.,  106  seq.y  109, 
III 

and  music,  see  Music 

and  symbols,  94,  149  seq. 

defined,  97 

love  and,  101  seq. 

its  branches,  112 

and  religion,  115,  125^. 

and  theology,  118,  121  seq.,  128  seq. 

its  valid  part,  122 

and  analogy,  123 

theurgic,  180 

and  magic,  197 

Christian,  208,  211,  282,  364,  375,  386, 
410,  435,  480,  501 

and  goodness,  241 

its  vice,  385 


INDEX 


Mysticism  (contd.) — 

its  meaning,  531 

curve  of,  541  seq. 

tradition  of,  542,  559 

Indian,  37,  69,  189,  207,  375,  428,  520 

European,  208,  520 

German,  473,  475,  548,  551 

Mediaeval,  547 

Italian,  549  seq. 

Franciscan,  549  seq. 

Dominican,  549  seq. 

Mahommedan,  see  Sufis 

English,  554 

Flemish,  554 

Spanish,  557 
Mystics,    The,    28,   41,   44,   48,    58,   60, 
112,  115,  124,  199,  285,410 

their  claim,  4,  26  seq. 

and  artists,  41,  89  seq.,  268,  325 

practical,  70,    122,   295  seq.,  310,  414, 

495 

psycho-physical     pecuirinties,    70    seq., 

434 
their  wholeness  of  life,  75 
automatic  powers,  78 
as  lovers,  106,  512 
heroic  types,  109  seq.,  512 
and  theology,  116  seq.,  132,  136 
and  occultists,  187 
as  actives,  209  seq.,  512  seq. 
Christian,  see  Mysticism 
their  love  of  nature,  249,  312 
and  Unitive  Life,  496  seq. 
two  types  of,  496 
Unitive,  514  seq. 
and  humanity,  534 

Names  of  God,  see  God 

Nativity,  The,  and  Mysticism,  142,  146 

Naturalism,  10 

Nature — 

and  Christ,  138 

mystic  vision  of,  216,  231  seq.,  282,  289, 

304 
mystics  and,  249,  310  seq.,  456 
contemplation  of,  360  seq. 
Negation,  380,  402  seq.,  410,  421  seq.,  444, 

462 
Negative  states,  455  seq.,  468,  471 
Neoplatonic  theology,  125 
Mysticism,  398 


Neoplatonists,  115,  117,  126,  130,  179, 
272,  380,  402,  428,  444,  509,  543  seq., 

559 
their  Trinity,  132 
New  Birth,  40,  63,  66,  146  seq.,  167,  233, 

362,  381,  501,  532,  543,  558 
New  Man,   169,  261,  277,  311,  318,  370, 

481 
New  Testament,  199 
New  Thought,  84,  183,  188  seq. 
Nicholas  of  Basle,  554 
Nirvana,  207 
Norris,  John,  559 

Obedience,  247,  260 
Occult,  see  Magic 
Odes  of  Solomon,  543 
Odic  force,  186 

One,  The,  48,  96,  115,  117,  122,  129,  130, 
136,  166,  250,  256,  276,  367,  396, 
403,  410  seq.,  413,  444,  543,  544 

Dante's  vision  of,  406 
One  Act,  the,  388  seq. 
Origen,  545 

Orison,  223,  392,  305,  337,  366  seq.,  410, 
448,  454,  457,  56o 

of  quiet,  see  Quiet 

of  union,  see  Union 

Degrees  of,  109,  206,  366  seq. 

naked,  368,  380  seq. 

ideal  of,  389 
Ormond,  A.  T.,  512 
Osanna  Andreasi,  556 
Oxyrhynchus  Papyri,  121 

Pacheu,  J.,  109 
Pain,  21,  196,  493 

and  love,  22,  266  seq. 

mystic  states  of,  204  seq.,  464,  482 

of  God,  471 
Pantheism,  119 
Papus,  180 
Paracelsus,  179,  356 
Pascal,  440,  449,  452,  560 

memorial  of,  228 
Passivity,  60,  77,  96,  221,  296,  366,  384, 

389,  445 
Pathology  and  mysticism,  71  seq.,  430 
Patmore,  Coventry,  29,  160,  170,  372,  525, 
530 
on  Incarnation,  141 


596 


AN   INTRODUCTION  TO   MYSTICISM 


Patmore,  Coventry  {contd.) — 

on  Church,  199 

on  Reality,  240,  503 
Paul,  St.,  70,  119,  240,  320,  439,  513,  517, 

523,  543 

on  Trinity,  136 

conversion  of,  216 
Pelagius,  126 
Personality — 

divine,  50,  60,  126,  142,  153,  346,  402, 
407,  413,  506 

sub-conscious,  see  Subliminal 

remaking  of,  64,  448,  481,  498  seq. 

levels  of,  394 

and  deification,  503 
Peter  of  Alcantara,  St.,  557 
Petersen,  Gerlac,  99,  242,  255,  511,  556 
Philadelphians,  559  seq. 
Philip  of  the  Trinity,  329 
Philo,  76,  US,  543 

Philosopher's  Stone,  169  seq.,  464,  500,  517 
Philosophy,  5  seq.,  315,  399 

vitalistic,  31  seq.,  186,  518 

activistic,  39 

transcendental,  85 

mystical,  98,  114,  118,  124,  128 

Christian,  126 

Hermetic,  167,  316 

occult,  183  seq. 
Pilgrimage  of  soul,  118,  153  seq. 
Plato,  6,  47,  121,  123,  205,  240,  282,  286, 
292,  315,  445 

on  beauty,  25,  260,  283 

on  mystic  sense,  59 

on  contemplation,  365 
Platonism  and  mysticism,  98 
Platonists,  Cambridge,  86,  559 
Pleasure,  States  of,  204  seq.,  227,  290 

and  pain,  275,  454,  457,  470 
Plotinus,  in,  115,  122,  127,209,216,  250, 
276,  281,  315,  325,  396,  400,  440,  447, 

544 

on  mystic  sense,  59 

ecstasy,  98,  444 

union,  101,  398 

immanence,  119 
Poetry,  333,  343,  420 
Poets,  280,  285,  395,  448 

and  illumination,  232,  282 

mystical,  306,  456 
Poiret,  P.,  1561 


Pordage,  Dr.,  559,  562 

Porphyry,  544 

Poverty,  247  seq.,  265,  478 

Prayer,  see  Orison 

Presence  of  God,  see  God 

Prince,  Morton,  68 

Proclus,  545 

Prophecy,  186,  333,  353,  437 

Prophets,  334,  44S 

Psychology,  50,  53  seq. 

of  mystic  way,  109,  123,  203  seq. 

and  magic,  189  seq.,  194 

and  automatisms,  320  seq. 

of  contemplation,  394,  402,  419 

of  ecstasy,  431  seq. 

of  Dark  Night,  455  seq. 

of  Unitive  Life,  498  seq. 
Purgation,   156,   175,  205,  215,  239  seq., 
279,  283,  289,  303,  371,  455,  463  seq. 
466,  473 

factors  of,  275  seq. 

and  illumination,  276  seq. 

passive,  463,  477 

of  spirit,  474 
Purgatory,  244,  266 
Purification,  see  Purgation 

Quia  amore  langueo,  162 

Quakers,  120,  126,  553,  558 

Quiet,  Orison  of,  99,  209,  221  seq.,  340, 

369  seq.,  377  seq.,  393,  397,  403,  416, 

434>  440 
Quietism,  384  seq. 
Quietists,  81,  126,  179,  296,  558  seq. 

Rapture,  292,  298,  337,  363,  366,  393, 
429,  440,  448  seq. 
dark,  471 
Rationalists,  320 
Realism,  10 

Reality,  10  seq.,  42  seq.,  376 
philosophy  and,  10  seq.,  35,  40 
beauty  and,  25  seq. 

mystics  and,  28,  42,  49,  81,  in  seq., 
212,   240,   326,  394,   400,  406,   463, 
499  seq.,  503,  5 19,  523  seq. 
levels  of,  40,  66,  77,  205,  280 
dual  nature  of,  42  seq.,  289,  410,  518  seq. 
negative  descriptions,  50,  402,  411 
condition  of  knowing,  51,  56  seq.,  212, 
473,  496,  532 


INDEX 


597 


/ 


Reality  {contd.) — 

our  link  with,  66 

and  ecstasy,  73,  226,  228,  439,  441 

transcendent,  87,  289,  301  seq. 

and  art,  88  seq. 

and  symbols,  93  seq.,  343 

self's  movement  to,  97,  153  seq 

concepts  of,  116,  137,  153,  235,  501 

and  immanence,  118,  289,  300 

and  theology,  121,  139,  145 

craving  for,  242,  47 1 

of  phenomena,  307  seq. 
Reason,  see  Intellect 
Re-birth,  see  New  Birth 
Recejac,  19,  158,  265,  292,  392 

on  beauty,  24 

on  mysticism,  55,  97,  103,  314,  335 
Receptivity,  76  seq.,  378  seq. 
Recollection,  58,  369  seq.,  374.  seq.,  392 
Red  Dragon,  176 
Regeneration,  147,  153,  499 

symbols  of,  167  seq. 
Religion,  20,  56,  193 

and  mysticism,  115 

and  magic,  182,  189  seq.,  197 
Repairer,  The,  144 

Rhythm,   90,   91,  94  seq.,   150,   189  seq., 
197,  281,  287,  333  seq. 

and  ecstasy,  69 

of  consciousness,  216 
Ribet,  321 
Ribot,  71,  433,  443 

Richard  of  St.  Victor,  165,  246,  369,  442, 
447,  513,  516,  546,  548,  554 

degrees  of  love,  165,  350,  372,  376,  391 

on  ecstasy,  452 

on  deification,  504 
Rolle,  Richard,  109,   237,  243,  248,  254, 
285  seq.,  288,  332,  379,  423,  440,  548, 
554  seq. 

on  song,  92  seq. ,  234,  290,  526 

on  mystic  love,  102 

on  Heat  Sweetness,  Song,  233 

his  conversion,  234 

on  illumination,  317 

on  contemplation,  401,  408 

on  joy,  525  seq. 
Romance,  89,  91,  535 
Rose  of  Lima,  St.,  313  seq.,  527,  558 
Rosicrucians,  179,  558 
Rovce,  Josiah,  27,  158 


Rutherford,  Samuel,  378 
Ruysbroeck,  61,  91,    108,   155,  158.  210. 
253»  276,  364,  396,  446,  489,  502  seq., 
508  seq.,  $22,  524,  554,556 

on  God,  42,  44,  138  seq.,  521 

on  emotion,  57 

on  union,  102,  373,  505,  521 

on  introversion,  119 

on  Trinity,  140 

on  Birth  of  Son,  142,  146 

on  love  of  God,  318,  424 

on  Quietism,  385 

on  dual  life,  388,  521 

on  contemplation,  398,  411 

on  Dark  Night,  467 

on  Unitive  Life,  505  seq. 

on  divine  sonship,  519 

Sacraments— 

and  Magic,  197 

and  Mystics,  435 
Sacred  Heart,  Vision  of,  95 
Sacrum  Commercium,  251 
Sadi,  551 
Saint-Martin,    8,  96,    144,    147,  558   seq.. 

562 
Sanctity,  152,  466 
Scepticism,  Philosophic,  15 
School  of  Holy  Spirit,  483  seq. 
Science,  399 

and  life,  19 
Self— 

and  world,  6,  276 

the,  its  three  activities,  53  seq.,  100,  371, 

394,  523 
its  machinery,  53  seq. 
its  dual  nature,  61  seq.,  67,  76,  240,  257, 

289,  361,  370  seq.,  518  seq. 
surrender  of,  see  Surrender 
and  Reality,  81,  88,  97,  122,  161,  364, 

373,  379,  5i8 
loss  of,  100,  402,  405,  411,  480,  520 
transmutation  of,  108,  167  seq.,  262,  464, 

474,  481,  496  seq.,  500  seq. 
journey  of,  117 
cravings  of,  151 
annihilation  of,  157,  207,  474,  478  seq., 

501,  520 
suggestion,  191,  194 
awakening  of,  205,  213  seq.,  240 
conversion  of,  see  Conversion 


«>9S 


AN   INTRODUCTION   TO  MYSTICISM 


Self  (contd.)— 

knowledge,  241  seq.,  280 

conquest,  242 

illumination  of,  287 

education  of,  372 

mergence,  373,  397,  409,  446 

naughting,    379,    477    seq.,    497,   505, 
508 

in  contemplation,  394 

in  Dark  Night,  460  seq. 

love,  476 
Selfhood,  246 

death  of,  266,  317,  478,  493,  ^o 
Senses — 

world  of,  6 

death  of,  265 

night  of,  286 

and  automatism,  321 

hallucinations  of,  322,  329,  334 

imagery  of,  368 
"  Seven  Valleys,  The,"  156 
Shelley,  93 

Silence,  Interior,  see  Quiet 
Simeon  Metaphrastes,  502 
Sin,  240  seq.>  264,  462 

conviction  of,  466 
Smith,  John,  559 
Solitude,  210,  242,  387 
Son,  The,  138,  144 

Eternal  Birth  of,  146 

Marriage  with,  364 
Sonship,  Divine,  534 
Song,  Mystic,  93,  234,  290,  322,  526  seq. 
Song  of  Solomon,  163,  300,  445,  509 
Sophia,  147,  277,  280 
Soul,  101,  in,  118,  164 

apex  of,  64 

ground  of,  64,  119  seq.,  123,  280,  364, 
373.  380,  404,  409.  4i  h  417,  466,  479 

spark  of,  64,  66,  87,  120,  129,  173,  277, 
3",  329.  357,  364,  437,  466, 474, 481, 
532 
Space  and  Time,  14 
Spark  of  Soul,  see  Soul 
Spiritual  Marriage,  95,  109,  153,  163^., 
209,  361,  391,  424,  445,  496  seq.,  509, 
512  seq.,  543 

ornaments  of,  108 

of  St.  Catherine,  211,  349,  356 
Starbuck,  70,  209,  455 

on  conversion,  214,  231 


Steiner,  R.,  180,  183,  187,  195,  231,  316 

Stewart,  J.  A.,  65,  87 

Stigmatisation,  71,  320,  447 

Subliminal   Mind,  62  seq.,   74,   108,    123, 
130,  328,  366,  372,  448,  468 
in  mystics,  69,  79 
and  visions,  348 

Substance  and  Existence,  40 

Sufis,  76,  95,  99,  109,  115,  129,  151,  155, 
207,  254,  272,  500,  551 

"Suggestive  Enquiry,  A,"  170,  174 

Surrender,  81,  no,  161,  206,  210,  224, 
229,  254,  269,  284,  293,  341,  368, 
371  seq.,  379,  386,  389  seq.,  405,  414 
seq.,  424,  469  seq.,  475  seq.,  481,  493, 

497,  533,  56i 
Suso,  109,  122,  209  seq.,  223,  235  seq.,  243, 
248,  263,  267  seq.,  276,  286  seq.,  306, 
321,  325  seq.,  331  seq.,  340,  348,  409, 
443,  447  seq.,  463,  470,  473,  553 

on  theology,  117,  141 

his  conversion,  225 

temperament,  225,  487  seq. 

visions,  226,  342  seq.,  483  seq. 

illumination,  303 

his  Dark  Night,  460,  482  seq, 

and  the  Knight,  488 

and  the  baby,  490  seq. 

on  union,  507 
Swedenborg,  192,  562 
Symbolism,  93  seq.,  112,  149  seq.,  190,  325 
Symbols,  121,  189,  282,  288,  322,339,  377 
393,  401,  429 

of  the  Absolute,  136,  152,  396 

three  classes  of,  151 

of  quest,  153  seq. 

of  love,  153,  162  seq. 

of  transmutation,  153,  167  seq.,  501 

of  pilgrimage,  154^. 

of  marriage,  163  seq.,  509 

magic,  191 

philosophic,  407 

and  ecstasy,  434  seq. 

of  Unitive  Life,  496  seq.,  511  seq. 

of  deification,  503 
Symons,  Arthur,  99,  107,  284,  420 
Syntagma,  90 
Synteresis,  64,  173 

Tauler,  66,  73,  104,  120  i*?.,  138,  210, 
223,  318,  323,  333,  395,  470,473,  $52. 


INDEX 


599 


^auler  {contd.) — 
on  self  loss,  ioo,  478 
on  poverty,  259 
on  mortification,  262 
on  pain,  267 
on  desert  of  God,  364 
on  Abyss,  404 
'elepathy,  187,  353 
"ennyson,  286,  305 
'eresa,   St.,  70,  94,   105,   109,    115, 
123,  140,  205,  207,  209  seq.,  243, 
267,  274,  286,  290  seq.,  296  seq. 
seq-,  323>  326,  333  seq.,  339  seq., 
380,  390,  409,  431,  447,  469  seq., 

495,515,  517,523,527,542,553, 
560,  562 

on  ecstasy,  73,  429,  439,  443 

Spiritual  Marriage,  95,  165 

on  Trinity,  130  seq. 

her  character,  257  seq. 

purgation,  258  seq. 

visions,  324,  340  seq.,  346  seq. 

on  auditions,  329  seq. 

her  transverberation,  350 

automatic  writing,  352  seq. 

on  orison,  369,  372,  425  seq. 

on  recollection,  377 
■  on  quiet,  383,  390 

on  rapture,  393,  433,  449  seq. 

on  levitation,  449  seq. 

on  pain  of  God,  471 

swekkul  Beg,  119 
;  neologia  Germanica,  59,  66,  99,  145, 
167,  242,  277,  294,  508,  553 

on  detachment,  249 

on  deification,  500 

leology,  125  seq.,  148 

heopathetic  state,  157,  212 

life,  517,  522 
'    mystics,  514 
rheories  of  Being,  9  seq.,  30 
.  homas  a  Kempis,  23,  261,  287,  333, 

524,  554,  559 
on  love,  103 
rhomas  Aquinas,  St.,  19,  47,  59,  77, 
180,  227,  430,  512,  550 
on  emanation,  117 
on  immanence,  119 
on  Trinity,  133 
on  Holy  Spirit,  140 
on  Beatific  Vision,  229,  506 


y" 


120, 
261, 
1 320 
374, 
482, 
557, 


15' 


383, 
139, 


Thompson,  Francis,  161 
Three  Principles,  173,  176 
Threshold  of  Consciousness,  see  Conscious- 
ness 
Tincture,  see  Philosopher's  Stone 
"Towne,  E.,  188 
Tradition,  359,  542,  559 
Trance,  Ecstatic,  207  seq.,~$o6,  352,  425, 

428  seq.,  439,  448  seq. 
Transcendence,  41,  108,  116^.,  123, 120, 
213,  245,  267,  280,  311,  367,  388,  400, 
500,  532  seq. 

and  immanence,  49,  300,  402 

symbols  of,  151  seq. 

process  of,  205,  239 

vision  of,  235 

contemplation  of,  402,  411  seq. 

dark,  423 

and  ecstasy,  436 
Transcendental    Consciousness,   see    Con- 
sciousness 

feeling,  65  seq.,  87,  280,  396 

sense,  68  seq.,  84 

powers,  75 

life,  204 

world,  311 
Transmutation,  see  Self  and  Symbols 
Tree  of  Life,  117,  123,  315 
Trees  and  Mystics,  230  seq. 
Trinity,  Christian,  126  seq.,  308,  410  seq., 

505,  521 
Hindu,  132 
Vision  of,  326,  334 
Tyrrell,  G.:  98 

Unification,  64, 130,  245,  287,  498,  520 

of  consciousness,  81,  434,  442 
Union,  Mystic,  28,  38,  42  seq.,  48,  81,  85 
seq.,  90,  94,  96,  IOO  seq.,  106,  120, 
151,  159  seq.,  174,  205,  336  seq.,  240, 
35o,  359,  37i,  373,  389,  403  seq.,  424, 
439,  444,  451,  474,  480,  499  seq.,  505, 
508  seq.,  515,  534,  544 

active,  125 

hypostatic,  143 

condition  of,  246,  367 

orison  of,  294,  340,  369  seq.,  393,  409, 
413,  424  seq.,  438 

passive,  371,  398 

St.  Teresa  on,  426 

ecstatic,  442 


600 


AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  MYSTICISM 


Unitivc  Life,  68,  96,  145,  348,  463,  480, 
494  seq.,  510  seq. 

and  illumination,  294  seq. 

examples  of,  514 

dual  character  of,  518^. 

its  gaiety,  527 
Unitive  Way,  156,  166,  207,  233,  275,  371, 

454.  493.  5i5 
Unity,  129,  131,  157,  309,  505 
Universe,  dynamic,  121 

Vaughan,  H.  (Silurist),  305, 414, 489,  559 

Vaughan,  R.  A.,  180 

Vaughan,  Thomas,  559 

Vernazza,  Ven.  Battista,  138,  424,  556 

Vincent  de  Paul,  St.,  559 

Vision,  87,  368,  397 

illuminated,  282,  304  seq. 

fourfold,  310 
Visions,  79,  93,  236,  289,  307,  319  seq., 
334  seq.,  447,  454 

dynamic,  164,  348  seq. 

examples,  131,  218,  220,  226,  302,  341 
seq.,  483  seq. 

true,  323  seq. 

evil,  324,  468 

and  voices,  338 

of  Godhead,  131,  340,  406,  441 

symbolic,  343 


Vitalism,  31  seq.,  186  seq.,  518 
Voices,  see  Auditions 
Von  Crevelsheim,  Ellina,  441 
Von  HUgel,  Baron  F.,  72,  95,  244,  296, 
322,  386,  419 

on  St.  Catherine  of  Genoa,  71,  220,432 

on  quietism,  388 

Waite,  A.  E.,  99,  in,  129,  141,  186 

on  Magic,  181,  189,  194 
Weigel,  356 
Whichcote,  B.,  559 
Whitman,  Walt,  232,  286,  299,  306 
Will,  53  seq.,  82,  187  seq.,  193  seq.,  198, 
362,  388,  395,  468,  474 
and  magic,  84,  183,  190 
purgation  of,  206,  472,  477 
and  conversion,  227,  237 
surrender  of,  252 

in  orison,  359,  371,  374,  376,  379,  394, 
448 
Wolf  of  Gubbio,  312 

Word,   The,    131,   138,    142,    233,   281, 
293»  3io,    384.  39o,   396,  406,  499, 
506 
Words,  see  Auditions 
Wordsworth,  286,  306,  342 

Yesod,  76,  186,  315 


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