320THE VARIETIES OF RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE
persuade one’s self that one is dealing, not with imaginary experi-
ences, but with phenomena which, however rare, follow perfectly
definite psychological types.
To the medical mind these ecstasies signify nothing but suggested
and imitated hypnoid states, on an intellectual basis of supersti-
tion, and a corporeal one of degeneration and hysteria. Undoubtedly
these pathological conditions have existed in many and possibly
in all the cases, but that fact tells us nothing about the value for
knowledge of the consciousness which they induce. To pass a spiri-
tual judgment upon these states, we must not content ourselves
with superficial medical talk, but inquire into their fruits for life.
Their fruits appear to have been various. Stupefaction, for one
thing, seems not to have been altogether absent as a result. You
may remember the helplessness in the kitchen and schoolroom of
poor Margaret Mary Alacoque. Many other ecstatics would have
perished but for the care taken of them by admiring followers. The
“other-worldliness” encouraged by the mystical consciousness makes
this over-abstraction from practical life peculiarly liable to befall
mystics in whom the character is naturally passive and the intellect
feeble; but in natively strong minds and characters we find quite
opposite results. The great Spanish mystics, who carried the habit
of ecstasy as far as it has often been carried, appear for the most
part to have shown indomitable spirit and energy, and all the more
so for the trances in which they indulged.
Saint Ignatius was a mystic, but his mysticism made him assuredly
one of the most powerfully practical human engines that ever lived.
Saint John of the Cross, writing of the intuitions and “touches” by
which God reaches the substance of the soul, tells us that —
“They enrich it marvelously. A single one of them may be sufficient to
abolish at a stroke certain imperfections of which the soul during its
whole life had vainly tried to rid itself, and to leave it adorned with
virtues and loaded with supernatural gifts. A single one of these intoxicat-
ing consolations may reward it for all the labors undergone in its life —
even were they numberless. Invested with an invincible courage, filled
with an impassioned desire to suffer for its God, the soul then is seized
with a strange torment — that of not being allowed to suffer enough.”
1
1
Œuvres, ii. 320.
MYSTICISM
321
Saint Teresa is as emphatic, and much more detailed. You may
perhaps remember a passage I quoted from her in my first lecture.
1
There are many similar pages in her autobiography. Where in
literature is a more evidently veracious account of the formation of
a new centre of spiritual energy, than is given in her description
of the effects of certain ecstasies which in departing leave the soul
upon a higher level of emotional excitement?
“Often, infirm and wrought upon with dreadful pains before the ecstasy,
the soul emerges from it full of health and admirably disposed for action
. . . as if God had willed that the body itself, already obedient to the soul’s
desires, should share in the soul’s happiness. . . . The soul after such a favor is
animated with a degree of courage so great that if at that moment its body
should be torn to pieces for the cause of God, it would feel nothing but the
liveliest comfort. Then it is that promises and heroic resolutions spring up
in profusion in us, soaring desires, horror of the world, and the clear percep-
tion of our proper nothingness. . . . What empire is comparable to that of
a soul who, from this sublime summit to which God has raised her, sees all
the things of earth beneath her feet, and is captivated by no one of them?
How ashamed she is of her former attachments! How amazed at her blind-
ness! What lively pity she feels for those whom she recognizes still shrouded
in the darkness! . . . She groans at having ever been sensitive to points of
honor, at the illusion that made her ever see as honor what the world calls
by that name. Now she sees in this name nothing more than an immense lie
of which the world remains a victim. She discovers, in the new light from
above, that in genuine honor there is nothing spurious, that to be faithful to
this honor is to give our respect to what deserves to be respected really, and
to consider as nothing, or as less than nothing, whatsoever perishes and is
not agreeable to God. . . . She laughs when she sees grave persons, persons of
orison, caring for points of honor for which she now feels profoundest con-
tempt. It is suitable to the dignity of their rank to act thus, they pretend, and
it makes them more useful to others. But she knows that in despising the
dignity of their rank for the pure love of God they would do more good in
a single day than they would effect in ten years by preserving it. . . . She
laughs at herself that there should ever have been a time in her life when
she made any case of money, when she ever desired it. . . . Oh! if human
beings might only agree together to regard it as so much useless mud, what
harmony would then reign in the world! With what friendship we would all
treat each other if our interest in honor and in money could but disappear
from earth! For my own part, I feel as if it would be a remedy for all our ills.”
2
1
Above, p. 21.
2
Vie, pp. 229, 200, 231–233, 243.