Richard Rolle: Fire of Love Part 2

Wherefore a heavenly noise sounds within them, and full sweet melody makes the solitary man merry; for clatterings distract them who are set among many, and but seldom suffer them to think or pray. Of which solitary the psalmist speaks in the Song of Love, saying: ‘I will go into the place of the marvellous tabernacle, into the house of God.’ And he describes the manner of going, in rejoicing and songs of praise, saying: In voce exultationis et confesionis; that is to say: ‘In voice of gladness and shrift.’ And that loneliness withouten noise and bodily song is needful to that—that man may receive that songful joy, and hold it in joying and singing—he openly shows in another place: Elongavi, inquit, fugiens; et mansi in solitudine. That is to say: ‘Fleeing by myself, I have withdrawn, and in the wilderness I have dwelt.’

In this life truly he is busy to burn in the fire of the Holy Ghost; and into the joy of love to be taken and, comforted by God, to be glad. For the perfect lonely man hugely burns in God’s love; and whiles in surpassing of mind he is rapt above himself by contemplation, he is lift up joying unto that sweet sound and heavenly noise. And such a one, forsooth, is likened to the seraphim, burning within himself anchorite without comparison and most steadfast, whose heart is figured to godly fire; and in full light and burning he is borne up into his love. And forsooth after this life he shall be suddenly taken up to the high seats of the heavenly citizens, that in the place of Lucifer he may full brightly be. For so great is the burning of love and more than can be shown to him that has sought only the glory of his Maker, and who, going meekly, has not raised himself above sinners.

CHAPTER XIV

OF THE PRAISE OF SOLITARY LIFE AND OF THE FIRST LOVERS THEREOF: AND THAT LOVE OF GOD STANDS IN HEAT, SONG, AND SWEETNESS: AND THAT REST IS NEEDFUL: AND THAT SUCH ARE SAVED FROM DECEITS, AND ARE NOT SET IN PRELACY

Saint Job in tormentry was taught by the Holy Ghost the commendation of many manner of holy hermits knit into one, saying: Quis dimisit onagrum liberum, etc. that is to say: ‘Who left the wild ass free, and loosed her bands?’ etc.

First, therefore, he commends the freeness of grace, when he says: ‘who let the wild ass loose?’ Second, the putting away of fleshly desires; when he says: ‘and his bands loosed.’ Third, solitary conversation, when he adds: ‘to her he gave a house in the wilderness.’ Fourth, the desire of endless bliss, when he says: ‘and his tabernacle in the land of saltness,’ for salt truly slakes not, but increases thirst; and so the more they have received anything of the sweetness of everlasting life, the more they desire to have, and the more to taste.

Forsooth John Baptist, after Christ the prince of hermits, tarrying in no desire, chose a solitary life; and others have also chosen it, like to a gadfly, the which, says Solomon, has no leader or commander, and goes forth by companies of gifts and virtues. Truly there are bands of nature and of sin, which our Lord has loosed in them, and has confirmed the bands of charity.

The house of the wilderness may also be said to be the rest of a sinner; for holy hermits are sundered from worldly strifes and sins; and, Christ, giving it, they receive the sweetness of a clear conscience, and singing the joys of everlasting love, they rest, refreshed by the most merry heat: and although with sharpness and frowardness they be pricked in body, nevertheless they resolutely hold within their soul praise and burning.

There is another ill wilderness of pride: when any man either prefers himself before all others, or what he has he ascribes to the might of his freewill; of whom it is said: Vae soli: ’Woe to the man alone’; if he fall he has no helper up. In the beginning truly of a hermit’s turning—I speak not of runners about that are the slander of hermits—they are made weary with many and divers temptations; but after the tempest of ill movings God insheds the brightness of holy desires, that if they use themselves manly in weeping, meditating, and praying, and seeking only the love of Christ, after a little while they shall seem to themselves to live more in delight, than in weeping, or straitness of labour. They shall have Him whom they loved; whom they sought; and whom they desired: and then shall they joy and not be heavy.

What is it truly to joy but to have the good desired; of it to think; and in it to rest? No marvel that mirth is sweet where true lovers accord, and where the merry solace is of the touching of love; truly unable to be told is the desire of burning lovers, and the sight and speech of each to the other is sweet to them, above honey and the honey-comb.

Jeremy truly commends solitary life saying: ‘Good it is to be a man when he has borne the yoke of God from his young age; he shall sit solitary and be in peace; for by the desire and contemplation of things everlasting he has raised himself above himself.’ Whence it is written in scripture: Natus non est in terra quasi Enoch; that is to say: ‘None is born on earth as Enoch,’ because forsooth he was taken from the earth. For contemplative men are higher than others both in excellence of work and heartiness of love.

Love forsooth dwells in the heart of the solitary if he seek nothing from vain lordship. Here he utterly burns and longs for light whiles he thus clearly savours things heavenly; and sings with honey-sweetness and without heaviness; as the seraphim—to whom he is like in loving mind—cries and says to his noble Lover; ‘Behold, loving, I burn; greedily desiring.’

Thus with fire untrowed and thirling flame the soul of a lover is burned. It gladdens all things and heavenlike sparkles. Nor happily desiring do I make an end but alway going to that I love death to me is sweet and sicker.

Forsooth the holy solitary, because he suffered to sit in the wilderness for his Saviour, shall receive a golden seat in heaven, and excellence amongst the orders of angels. And because for the love of his Lord he was clad with vile clothes, he shall do on a kirtle to his heels, everlasting, and wrought with the clearness of his Maker. And because, taming his flesh, he shamed not to have a pale and lean face, he shall receive a full marvellous shining of face; and shall bear a most fair mantle, inwoven with precious stones, for his despised clothes, among the mighty of Paradise withouten end. And truly because he voided vice, and burgeoning not in jollity of this life, has entirely cast out the species of sin, the burning of the love of God Almighty he has received into himself most sweet heavenly sound; and the sound of singers of songs full of charity is worthily inshed sweetly into his mind. Therefore bodily and without dread he goes out from this exile hearing in his end angels songs; and he that loved most burningly, going into the Everlasting Hall, shall full worthily be taken up to a degree most joyful, so that with the seraphim he may be in a full high seat.

As I forsooth, seeking in scripture, might find and know, the high love of Christ soothly stands in three things: in heat; in song; in sweetness. And I am expert in mind that these three can not long remain without great rest. For if I would contemplate standing, walking, or lying, methought I lacked full mickle thereof in myself and me-seemed desolate; wherefore, constrained by need, that I might have and abide in high devotion, I chose to sit. The cause of this I know well; for if a man stands or walks for some time, his body waxes weary and so the soul is let, and in a manner irks for the charge, and he is not in high quiet and, it follows, not in perfectness; for, after the philosopher, the soul is made wise sitting or resting. He therefore that as yet is more delighted in God standing than sitting, may know that he is full far from the height of contemplation.

Whence truly in these three that are tokens of most perfect love, the highest perfection of Christian religion without all doubt is found; and I have now, Jesu granting, received these three after the littleness of my capacity. Nevertheless I dare not make myself even to the saints that have shone in them, for they peradventure have received them more perfectly. Yet shall I be busy in virtue that I may more burningly love, more sweetly sing, and more plenteously feel the sweetness of love. Ye err, brethren, if ye trow that none now are so holy as the prophets or apostles have been.

Soothly, heat I call it when the mind is truly kindled in love everlasting; and the heart in the same manner, not hopingly but verily, is felt to burn. For the heart turned into fire gives the feeling of burning love.

Song I call it when in a soul the sweetness of everlasting praise is received with plenteous burning, and thought is turned into song; and the mind is changed into full sweet sound.

These two are not gotten in idleness, but in high devotion; to the which the third is near, that is to say sweetness untrowed. For heat and song truly cause a marvellous sweetness in the soul; and also they may be caused by full great sweetness. Truly there is not any deceit in this plenteousness, but rather it is the most perfect ending of all deeds. Yet some ignorant of contemplative life are deceived by the fiend of the midday into a false and feigned sweetness, for they trow themselves full high when they are low.

But the soul in which the foresaid three things run together, bides altogether unable to be thirled with the arrows of our enemy, whiles she is continually thinking of the lover; for with mind unsmitten she raises herself to heaven and stirs herself to love.

And marvel not if melody be sent to the soul thus ordinate in love, and though she continually receives comfortable songs from the Beloved; for she lives not as if under vanity, but as it were clad with the heavenly, yea so that she may burn withouten end in unwrought heat and never fall. When she also loves unceasingly and burningly, and as it was before said, feels this most happy heat in her soul, and knows herself subtly burnt with the fire of endless love, plainly feeling her most beloved in desired sweetness, meditation is turned into songs of joy, and nature is renewed and umbelapped in heavenly mirth. Wherefore her Maker whom she has desired with all her heart, has granted her to pass without dread and heaviness from the corruptible body, that without heaviness of death she may forsake the world; the which being the friend of light and enemy of darkness has loved nothing but life.

This manner of man forsooth that is taken to so high love, ought to be chosen neither to office nor outward prelacy; nor to be called to any secular errand. Truly they are like the stone that is called topaz, the which is seldom found, and therefore it is held most precious and full dear, in which are two colours: one is most pure even as gold, and the other clear as heaven when it is bright. And it overcomes all the clearness of all stones; and nothing is fairer to behold. But if any would polish it, it is made dim, and truly if it be left to itself its clearness is withholden.

So holy contemplatives, of whom we spake before, are most rare and therefore most dear. They are like to gold for surpassing heat of charity, and to heaven for clearness of heavenly conversation; the which pass the lives of all saints, and therefore are clearer and brighter among the precious stones, that is to say the chosen, because loving and having this lonely life they are clearer than all other men that are, or else have been. But truly who will polish such, that is to say honour them with dignities, are busy to lessen their heat, and in a manner to make their fairness and their clearness dim; for truly if they get the honour of principality, they shall forsooth be made fouler and of less meed. Therefore they shall be left to take heed to their studies, that their clearness may increase.

CHAPTER XV

HOW AND IN WHAT TIME I CAME TO SOLITARY LIFE: AND OF THE SONG OF LOVE: AND OF CHANGING OF PLACE

When I was prospering unhappily, and to youth of wakeful age had now come, the grace of my Maker was near, the which restrained the lust for temporal shape and turned it into unbodily halsing to be desired; and lifting my soul from low things has borne it to heaven, so that I might truly burn in desire for the everlasting mirth, more than ever I was gladdened before by any fleshly company, or else by worldly softness.

If I will truly show this process it behoves me preach solitary life. The spirit forsooth has set my mind on fire to have and to love this, the which henceforth to lead according to the measure of my sickness I have taken care. Nevertheless I have dwelt among them that have flourished in the world, and have taken food from them. Flatterings also, that ofttimes might draw worthy fighters from high things to low, I have heard. But these out-casting for the sake of one, my soul was taken up to the love of my Maker; and desiring to be endlessly delighted with sweetness, I gave my soul up so that in devotion she should love Christ. The which she has forsooth received of her Beloved so that now loneliness appears most sweet to her, and all solace in which the error of man abounds she counts for nought.

I was wont forsooth to seek rest, although I went from place to place. For it is not ill for hermits to leave cells for a reasonable cause, and afterwards, if it accord, to turn again to the same. Truly some of the holy Fathers have done thus, although they have therefore suffered the murmuring of men; nevertheless not of the good. The evil truly speak ill; and if they had abode right there they would also have done that, for it is customary to them. If the covering of a privy is put by, nothing but stink flies out; and ill speaking is spoken out of the heart’s plenty, in which the venom of adders lurks.

This have I known, that the more men have raved against me with words of backbiting, so mickle the more I have grown in ghostly profit. Forsooth the worst backbiters I have had are those which I trusted before as faithful friends. Yet I ceased not for their words from those things that were profitable to my soul; truly I used more study, and ever I found God favorable. I called to mind what is written: Maledicent illi, et tu benedices, that is to say: ‘They shall curse him, and thou shalt bless.’

And in process of time great profit in ghostly joy was given me. Forsooth three years, except three or four months, were run from the beginning of the change in my life, and of my mind, to the opening of the heavenly door; so that, the Face being shown, the eyes of the heart might behold and see by what way they might seek my Love, and unto Him continually desire. The door forsooth yet biding open, nearly a year passed until the time in which the heat of everlasting love was verily felt in my heart.

I was sitting forsooth in a chapel, and whiles I was mickle delighted with sweetness of prayer or meditation, suddenly I felt within me a merry and unknown heat. But first I wavered, for a long time doubting what it could be. I was expert that it was not from a creature but from my Maker, because I found it grow hotter and more glad.

Truly in this unhoped for, sensible and sweet-smelling heat, half a year, three months and some weeks have out run, until the inshedding and receiving of this heavenly and ghostly sound; the which belongs to the songs of everlasting praise and the sweetness of unseen melody; because it may not be known or heard but of him that receives it, whom it behoves to be clean and departed from the earth.

Whiles truly I sat in this same chapel, and in the night before supper, as I could, I sang psalms, I beheld above me the noise as it were of readers, or rather singers. Whiles also I took heed praying to heaven with my whole desire, suddenly, I wot not in what manner, I felt in me the noise of song, and received the most liking heavenly melody which dwelt with me in my mind. For my thought was forsooth changed to continual song of mirth, and I had as it were praises in my meditation, and in my prayers and psalm saying I uttered the same sound, and henceforth, for plenteousness of inward sweetness, I burst out singing what before I said, but forsooth privily, because alone before my Maker. I was not known by them that saw me as, peradventure, if they had known me, they would have honoured me above measure, and so I should have lost part of the most fair flower, and should have fallen into desolation.

In the meanwhile wonder caught me that I should be taken up to so great mirth whiles I was in exile; and because God gave gifts to me that I knew not to ask, nor trowed I that any man, not the holiest, could have received any such thing in this life. Therefore I trow this is given to none meedfully, but freely to whom Christ will; nevertheless I trow no man receives it unless he specially love the Name of Jesu, and in so mickle honours It that he never lets it pass from his mind except in sleep. I trow that he to whom it is given to do that, may fulfill the same.

Wherefore from the beginning of my changed soul unto the high degree of Christ’s love, the which, God granting, I was able to attain—in which degree I might sing God’s praises with joyful song—I was four years and about three months. Here forsooth, with the first disposition of love gathered into this degree, she bides to the very end; and also after death she shall be more perfect: because here the joy of love or burning of charity is begun, and in the heavenly kingdom it shall receive its most glorious ending. And forsooth she profits not a little, set in these degrees in this life, but she ascends not into another degree; but, as it were confirmed in grace, as far as mortal man can, she rests.

Wherefore without ceasing I desire to give grace and praise to God, the which both in diseases, heaviness, and persecution gives me solace; and in prosperity and flatterings makes me with sickerness await an endless crown. Therefore, in Jesu joying, I continually yield praise; the which has vouchsafed me, least and wretched, to mingle with sweet ministers, from whom songs of melody, yet heavenly, spring forth through the Spirit.

Continually with joy shall I give thanks because He has made my soul in clearness of conscience like to singers clearly burning in endless love; and whiles she loves and seethes in burning, the changed mind, resting and being warmed by heat, and greatly enlarged by desire and the true beauty of lovely virtue, blossoms without vice or strife in the sight of our Maker; and thus beating praise within herself, gladdens the longer with merry song and refreshes labours.

Many and great are these marvellous gifts, but among the gifts of this way none are such as those which full dearly in figure confirm the shapeliness of the unseen life in the loving soul; or which so sweetly comfort the sitter, and being comforted, ravish him to the height of contemplation and the accord of the angels praise.

Behold, brethren, I have told you how I came to the burning of love, not that ye should praise me, but that ye should glorify my God, of whom I received ilk good deed that I had; and that ye, thinking that all things under the sun are vanity, may be stirred to follow, not to backbite.

CHAPTER XVI

THE PRAYER OF THE POOR, AND THE LOVING AND DESIRING TO DIE: AND OF THE PRAISING OF GOD’S CHARITY

When the devout poor man is noyed on account of his defaults, he can, if he will, pray and say:

Lord my God, Jesu Christ, have mercy on me and vouchsafe to behold the grievous yoke that is put upon my body, and therefore tarries not to cast down my soul. My flesh truly fails in the griefs of this life; wherefore also ghostly virtue is made weary. For all that I had in this world or of this world is ended, and nought is left but that Thou lead my soul to another world where my treasure is most precious and my substance richest, and unfailingly abides. Wherefore I shall live without default; I shall joy without sorrow; I shall love without irksomeness; and loving Thee, seeing Thee, and joying in Thee, I shall be endlessly fed. Thou truly art my Treasure, and all the Desire of my heart; and because of Thee I shall perfectly see Thee, for them I shall have Thee.

And I spake thus to death:

O Death, where dwellest thou? Why comest thou so late to me, living but yet mortal? Why halsest thou not him that desires thee?

Who is enough to think thy sweetness, that art the end of sighing, the beginning of desire, the gate of unfailing yearning? Thou art the end of heaviness, the mark of labours, the beginning of fruits, the gate of joys. Behold I grow hot and desire after thee: if thou come I shall forthwith be safe. Ravished, truly, because of love, I cannot fully love what I desire after, until I taste the joy that Thou shalt give to me. If it behoves me, mortal—because forsooth it so befalls—to pass through thee as all my fathers have gone, I pray thee tarry not mickle; from me abide not long! Behold, I truly languish for love; I desire to die; for thee I burn; and yet truly not for thee, but for my Saviour Jesu, whom, after I have had thee, I trow to see withouten end.

O Death, how good is thy doom to needy man, whose soul, nevertheless, is made sweet by love; to the man, forsooth, truly loving Christ and contemplating heavenly things, and sweetly burned with the fire of the Holy Ghost. After death he is taken soothly to songs of angels; because now being purged, and profiting, he dwells in the music of the spirit. And in melody full marvellous shall he die, the which when alive thought pithily upon that sweet Name; and with the companies meeting him, with heavenly hymns and honour, he shall be taken into the hall of the Eternal Emperor, being among heavenly dwellers in the seat of the blessed.

To this has charity truly brought him, that he should thus live in inward delight, and should gladly suffer all that happens, and should think on death, not with bitterness but with sweetness. Soothly then he trows himself truly to live, when it is given him to pass from this light.

O sweet Charity, thou art plainly the dearest sweetness; that catchest and takest the mind to thy love; and so clearly thou moistenest it that quickly thou makest it despise all passing things and vain joys, and only to marvellously yearn after thy desires. Thou hast come into me, and behold, all mine inward soul is fulfilled by the sweetness of heavenly mirth, and plenteous in the fervour of ghostly joy.

Therefore, truly I long after love, the fairest of flowers, and I am inwardly burned by the flame of fire. Would God I might go from the dwelling of this exile!

Thus it warms, man thinks not how, save that he feels solace in himself; the heart singing ditties and taken captive with the charge of charity. Soothly this that I thus receive is most merry, and I nearly die while it is thus made steadfast with burning love. Now grant my best Beloved that I may cease; for death, that many dread, shall be to me as heavenly music. Although I am sitting in the wilderness, yet I am now as it were set stable in Paradise, and there sweetly is sounding a loving song in the delights that my Love has given me.

CHAPTER XVII

HOW PERFECT LOVE IS GOTTEN BY CLEANNESS AND LOVE: AND OF IMPERFECT LOVE AND FAIRNESS, AND OF THREE MIGHTS OF GOD’S LOVE: AND OF THE RICH AND POOR: AND OF ALMS

From cleanness of conscience and plenteousness of ghostly gladness and inward mirth, rises the song of joy and the burning of endless love in a mind loving truly. No marvel that loving in this manner, love has been perfectly had, great in desire, with a moving altogether dressed to God, and by no letting removed from His love; withouten strife of vain thoughts, constantly cleaving to Christ; in Jesu ever joying; from Him never distracted; with ill never moved; whom dead flies never deceive or cast down from the sweetness of the ointment.

The world, the flesh, and the devil have none effect upon him, although they prick him; but he treads them under his feet, setting their strength at nought. Withouten seething he boils; he loves with great desire; he sings with sweetness; he shines with heat; he is delighted in God without gainstanding; he contemplates with unbroken upgoing. He vanquishes all things; he overcomes all things; of all the things that he likes nothing seems to him impossible. Truly whiles any man is busy to love Christ with all his strength he feels in himself, forsooth, great sweetness of eternal life.

We are turned truly to Christ if we strive to love Him with our whole mind. Certain, so marvellous a Thing is God and so liking to see, that I wonder that any man can be so mad and go out of the way that he should take no heed to the sight of Him in his soul. Truly not he that does great and many things is great; but he that loves God mickle is great, and loved of God.

Philosophers forsooth have travailed mickle, and yet without fruit they have vanished. And many that seemed Christians have done great things and showed forth marvels, and yet they were not worthy to be saved; for the plenteousness of the heavenly crown is not for the doers, but for the lovers of God.

Lord Jesu, I ask Thee, give unto me movement in Thy love withouten measure; desire withouten limit; longing withouten order; burning without discretion. Truly the better the love of Thee is, the greedier it is; for neither by reason is it restrained, nor by dread distressed, nor by doom tempted. No man shall ever be more blest than he that for greatness of love can die. No creature truly can love too mickle. In all other things all that is too mickle turns to vice, but the more the strength of love surpasses the more glorious it shall be. The lover truly languishes if he has not by him the likeness of that he loves. Therefore it is said: Nunciate dilecto quia amore langueo, that is to say: ‘Show to my love that I languish for love.’ As who should say: ‘Because I see not that I love, for love I wax slow also in body.’

Forsooth turned to Christ with all my heart, I am tied first by true penance, and so forsaking all things that long to vanity, after the taste of ghostly sweetness, I shall be ravished to sing in songful and godly praise. Whereof I say: Ego cantabo dilecto meo; and in the psalm: In te cantatio mea semper. That is to say: ‘To my love I shall sing’; and in the psalm: ‘In thee is ever my song.’ No marvel that they therefore that thus have lived in God’s love, and sweetly have burned in inward flagrance withouten dread, in death shall pass from this light, but truly with joy; and after death ascend to the heavenly kingdoms.

Therefore it is said of the flame of God’s love that it takes the mind to wound it. ‘I am wounded by charity, and I am made to languish for my love’; whereof it is said, Amore langueo, ‘for love I languish’; and to moisten it, that it so goes out towards the Beloved that it forgets the self and other things besides Christ. Therefore he says: Pone me ut signaculum super cor tuum; that is to say: ‘As a token set me on Thy heart.’

What is love but the transforming of desire into the thing loved? Or love is great desire for the fair, the good, and lovely, with continuance of thought going in to that thing that it loves, the which, when it has, then it joys; for joy is not caused save by love. All those loving are truly made like to their love, and love makes him that loves like to that that is loved.

Truly neither God nor other creature disdains or forsakes to be loved, but gladly all things say they would be loved, and are gladdened by love. They are not heavy truly in loving unless they have loved an unkind thing; or if they trow they can not have that thing they have lovingly sought. This is never so in the love of God, but ofttimes this happens in the love of the world or of woman.

I dare not say that all love is good, for that love that is more delighted in creatures than in the Maker of all things, and sets the lust of earthly beauty before ghostly fairness, is ill and to be hated; for it turns from eternal love and turns to temporal that can not last. Yet peradventure it shall be the less punished; for it desires and joys more in love and be loved than to defile or be defiled. The fairer a creature is, the more lovable it is in the sight of all. Therefore some were wont busily to get health from a shapely form rather than from a despised, which has many occasions of bringing in ill. And nature teaches the fairer the thing, the more sweetly to be loved. Nevertheless ordinate charity says the greater the good, the more it is to be loved; for ilk fleshly beauty is as hay, lightly vanishing, but godliness truly hides; and ofttimes God chooses the sick and despised of the world, and forsakes the strong and fair. Wherefore it is said in the psalm: Tradidit in captivitatem virtutem eorum, et pulcritudinem eorum in manus inimici; that is to say: ‘Their strength has he given to bondage, and their fairness into the hands of their enemies.’ And in another place: Habens fiduciam in pulcritudine tua, fornicata es; that is in English: ‘Having trust in thy fairness, thou hast done fornication.’

It is of love also to melt the mind; as it is written: Anima mea liquefacta est, ut dilectus locutus est; that is to say: ‘My soul was molten as my Love spake.’ Truly sweet and devout love melts the heart in God’s sweetness, so that the will of man is made one with the will of God in wonderful friendship. In which onehood such sweetness of liking heat and song is inshed into a loving soul, how great the feeler cannot tell.

Love forsooth has strength in spreading, in knitting, and turning. In spreading, truly: for it spreads the beams of its goodness not only to friends and neighbours, but also to enemies and strangers. In knitting truly: for it makes lovers one in deed and will; and Christ and every holy soul it makes one. He truly that draws to God is one spirit, not in nature but in grace, and in onehood of will. Love has also a turning strength, for it turns the loving into the loved, and ingrafts him. Wherefore the heart that truly receives the fire of the Holy Ghost is burned all wholly and turns as it were into fire; and it leads it into that form that is likest to God. Else had it not been said: Ego dixi dii estis et filii Excelsi omnes; that is to say: ‘I have said ye are gods, and are all the children of the high God.’

Forsooth some men have so loved each other that they nearly trowed there were but one soul in them both. Truly the man poor in worldly goods, though he is rich in mind, is far from such love. It were marvel truly if he that behoves ever to take and seldom or never can give, had a friend in the which he might trust in all things. By others, therefore, trowed unworthy of true love, he has a steadfast friend, Christ; and of Him he can faithfully ask whatsoever he will. Truly where man’s help fails, without doubt God’s is near.

Nevertheless it were more profitable to the rich if he chose a holy poor man to his special friend, with whom he would share in common and gladly give him all that he had, yea more than the poor wills, and love him affectionately as his best and kindest friend. Therefore Christ said unto the rich, ‘Make you friends,’ meaning, forsooth, the holy poor who are God’s friends; and gladly God gives to the true lovers of such poor, for their love, the joys of Paradise. Soothly I trow that such rich should be well pleased with their friendship! But the verse now is true that saith: Pontus erit siccus cum pauper habebit amicum; ‘The sea shall be dry when a poor man has a friend.’

Some rich soothly I have found giving as they thought their meat to the holy poor, who would not give clothing or other necessaries, trowing it were enough if they gave but meat; and so they make themselves half friends, or in part; caring no more for the friendship of the good poor than of the evil poor. And all things of any price that might be given, they save for themselves and their children. And so the holy poor are holden no more to them but as they are to others of their good-doers, that give them clothes or other goods. And yet, what is worse, the poor seem a full great burden to the rich.

CHAPTER XVIII

OF THE PRAISE AND MIGHT OF CHARITY: AND OF FORSAKING THE WORLD: AND OF THE WAY OF PENANCE TO BE TAKEN

Charity is the queen of virtues; the fairest star; the beauty of the soul that does all these things in the soul: that is to say, it wounds her; makes her languish; moistens, melts and makes fair; it gladdens and enflames; whose ordinate deed is full fair habit. It behoves without doubt that all virtue, if it be truly called virtue, be rooted in charity. No virtue can be truly held that has not been set in God’s love. Soothly he who multiplies virtues and good deeds without God’s love, casts as it were precious stones into a bottomless privy. Shown it is and known that all deeds that men do help not in the end to get health, if they be not done in the charity of God and of their neighbour. Wherefore, since it is charity only that makes us blessed, we ought to desire rather to lose our life than in mind, or mouth, or deed, defile charity. In this the strivers with sin joy; in this the overcomers are crowned.

Truly ilk Christian is imperfect that cleaves with love to earthly riches, or is joined to any worldly solace; for he forsakes not all that he has, without which no man can come to perfection. When any man truly desires to love God perfectly, he studies to do away all things, inward as well as outward, that are contrary to God’s love and let from His love. And that a man may do that truly he has great business, for he shall suffer great strifes in doing it; afterwards truly he shall find sweetest rest in that that he seeks.

We have heard truly that the way is strait that leads to life. This is the way of penance that few find, the which therefore is called strait; for by it, and it be right, the flesh is stripped from unlawful solace of the world, and the soul is restrained from shrewd pleasure and unclean thoughts, and is only dressed to the love of God. But this is seldom found in men, for nearly none savour that which belongs to God: but they seek earthly joy and in that they are delighted, wherefore following their bodily appetite, and despising their ghostly, they forsake all the ways that are healthful to their soul, and they abhor them as strait, sharp, and unable to be borne by their lust.

Nevertheless every mortal man ought to consider that he will never come to the heavenly kingdom by the way of riches and fleshly liking and lust, since, forsooth, it is written of Christ: Quod oportuit Christum pati, et ita intrare in gloriam suam; that is to say: ‘that Christ behoved to suffer and so enter His joy.’ If we be members of our Head, Jesu Christ, we shall follow Him; and if we love Christ, it behoves us go as He has gone; else are we not His members, for from the Head we are divided.

Truly if we be sundered from Him, it is greatly to be dreaded, for then are we joined to the fiend, and in the last doom Christ is to say: ‘I have not known you.’ He, truly, by a noyous gate and strait way entered to heaven; how should we, that are wretches and sinners, be made rich by the poor, and feed our lust with unlawful things and flatteries of this world, and all vanity and softness of flesh and desire for delight, and nevertheless reign with Christ in the life to come?

Christ when He was rich for us became poor; and when we are poor there is nothing that we so mickle covet as to be or seem plenteous. Christ when He was Lord of all is become the Servant of all: and we, whiles we are unprofitable and unworthy servants, yet would we be lords of all. He, when He was great God, is become a meek Man; and we, when we are sick and simple men, because of pride we raise ourselves in as mickle as if we were gods. He was conversant with men that He might raise us to the heavens; and we through all our life desire earthly things.

Therefore it is shown that we love Him not, for we will not meek our will to His; nor busy we to fulfill what ilk day we ask, saying: Fiat voluntas tua sicut in coelo et in terra; ’Thy will be done as in heaven and in earth.’ In vain forsooth such men trow to receive the heritage with them that are chosen; for they are not partners of Christ’s gainbuying, the which, by their wicked and unclean works, despise the blood by which we are gainbought, and freely yield themselves to the bondage of the fiend.

CHAPTER XIX

OF FAIRNESS OF MIND: VANITY OF THE WORLD: LOVE OF GOD: AND UNION WITH OUR NEIGHBOUR: AND WHETHER PERFECT LOVE CAN BE LOST AND GOTTEN IN THIS WAY

If thou be gladdened in fairness know it well, for the fairness of thy mind shall make thee beloved of the highly Fair if for love of Him only thou keepest it undefiled. Soothly the corruptible flesh with all its beauty is full feeble and to be despised, because, soon passing, it beguiles all its lovers. Therefore the virtue of our life stands in this: that vanity being despised and spurned, we cleave unpartingly to truth.

All earthly things which are desired on earth are vain; true soothly are the heavenly and eternal which can not be seen. Ilk Christian man in this shows himself truly chosen of God, that he sets these earthly things at nought; his desires are altogether spread in God, and he receives thereof a privy sound of love that no man umbelapped with worldly desires knows, being wretchedly withdrawn from the savour of heavenly joy. But no marvel that the shining soul, utterly intent to the love of the everlasting and inwardly desiring Christ, is wont to have his heart’s capacity fulfilled with plenteousness of sweetness; so that in this flesh made merry, as it were with angels’ life, they are gladdened with songful mirth.

Therefore if our love be pure and perfect, whatever our heart loves it is God. Truly if we love ourself, and all other creatures that are to be loved, only in God and for God, what other in us and in them love we but Him? For when our God truly is loved by us with a whole heart and all virtue, then, without doubt, our neighbour and all that is to be loved, is most rightly loved. If therefore we shed forth our heart before God and in the love of God being bound with Him, and holden with God, what more is there by which we can love any other creature?

Truly in the love of God is the love of my neighbour. Therefore as he that loves God knows not but to love man, so he that truly knows to love Christ is proved to love nothing in himself but God. Also all that we are loved by and love—all to God the Well of love we yield: because He commands that all the heart of man be given to Himself. All desires also, and all movings of the mind, He desires be fastened in Him. He forsooth that truly loves God feels nothing in his heart but God, and if he feel none other thing nought else has he; but whatso he has he loves for God, and he loves nought but that God wills he should love; wherefore nothing but God he loves and so all his love is God. Forsooth the love of this man is true, for he conforms himself to his Maker, the which has wrought all things for Himself; and so he loves all things for God.

Soothly when the love of the everlasting is truly kindled in our souls, without doubt all vanity of this world and all fleshly love is held but as foulest filth; and whiles the soul is given to continual devotion, she desires nothing but the pleasance of the Maker. Marvellously she burns in herself with the fire of love, that, slowly profiting and growing in ghostly good, henceforth she falls not into the slippery way and the broad that leads to death, but rather, raised up by a heavenly fire, she goes and ascends into contemplative life.

Truly contemplative life is not perfectly gotten of any man in this vale of tears, even a little, unless first his heart is inflamed from its depths with the torches of eternal love so that he feels it burn with the fire of love, and his conscience he knows molten with heavenly sweetness. So no marvel a man is truly made contemplative whiles both tasting sweetness and feeling burning he nearly dies for the greatness of love. And therefore he is fastened in the halsing, as it were bodily, of endless love; for contemplating unceasingly with all his desire, he busies him to go up to see that undescried light. Forsooth such a man knows to grant no comfort in his soul but God’s, in whose love now languishing to the end of his life he is made to desire, crying grievously with the psalmist: Quando veniam et apparebo ante faciem Dei? that is to say: ‘When shall I come and appear before the face of my God?’

This is perfect love. But it may not incongrously be asked whether this standing in love, once had, may at any time be lost. Truly whiles man can sin he can lose charity; but not to be able to sin belongs not to the state of this way but to the country above: wherefore ilk man, howsoever holy he be in this life, yet he can sin and mortally; for the dregs of sin are fully slakened in no pilgrim of this life after common law. Truly if there were any such the which neither desire nor could be tempted, they should belong to the state of heaven rather than of this way; nor were it of meed to them not to default, whiles they can not sin. I wot not if any such be living anywhere in flesh for, I speak for myself, the flesh desires against the spirit, and the spirit against the flesh; and after the inward man I am glad in God’s law, but I know not yet so mickle love that I could utterly slake all fleshly desire.

Nevertheless I trow that there is a degree of perfect love, the which whosoever attains he shall never afterwards lose. For truly it is one thing to be able to lose, and another alway to hold, what he will not leave although he can.

The perfect truly abstain themselves, as mickle as in them is, from ilk thing by which their perfection can be destroyed or else let. Truly with the freeness of their choice they are fulfilled with the grace of God, with which they are busily stirred to love, to speak and do good; and they are withdrawn from ill of heart, mouth, and work.

When a man is therefore perfectly turned to Christ he despises all passing things, and he fastens himself immovably to the desire only of his Maker, as far as he is let by mortality because of the corruption of the flesh. Then no marvel, manly using his might, first the heaven as it were being opened, with the eye of his understanding he beholds the citizens of heaven; and afterward he feels sweetest heat as it were a burning fire. Then he is imbued with marvellous sweetness, and henceforth he is joyed by a songly noise.

This therefore is perfect charity, which no man knows but he that receives it; and he that has received never leaves it: sweetly he lives, and sickerly shall he die.

CHAPTER XX

OF THE PROFIT AND WORTHINESS OF PRAYER AND MEDITATION

Constant prayer helps mickle to get and hold to this stableness of mind; for if it be grounded in mind it undoes the might of fiends. Though God truly knows all things, and before we ask anything He knows perfectly what we will ask, yet we ought to pray for many causes.

Because Christ gave example to us to pray when He nighted alone on the hill in prayer. And because it is the commandment of the Apostle, Sine intermissione orate. Oportet enim orare, et non deficere. ‘Withouten ceasing pray ye. Soothly it behoves to pray, and not to fail.’

Also that we may be worthy of grace in this life, and joy in time to come: wherefore ‘Ask and ye shall receive. He that asks receives, and to the caller it shall be opened.’

Also because the angels offer our prayers to God to help their fulfillment. Truly thoughts and desires are bare and open only to God; yet angels know when saints think worthy and holy things and are inflamed greatly with the love of eternal life, by God’s showing and by the experience of their outward deeds, because they see them serve God only. Wherefore the angel said to Daniel: Vir desideriorum es. ’A man thou art of desires.’

Also because by the continuance of prayer the soul is burnt with the fire of God’s love; our Lord truly says by His prophet: Nonne verba mea quasi ignis, et quasi malleus conterens petras? ’Are not my words as burning fire, and as a mallet breaking stones?’ The psalm also says: Ignitum eloquium tuum vehementer; ’thy speech is hugely burned.’

But there are many now that forthwith cast out the word of God from the mouth and heart, not suffering it there to rest in them; and therefore they are not burnt with the heat of comfort but bide cold in sloth and negligence, even after innumerable prayers and meditation of scripture, because forsooth they neither pray nor meditate in mind; whiles others that put back all sloth are within a short while greatly burned, and in Christ’s love full strong.

Therefore it follows full well: Et servus tuus dilexit illud; that is to say: ‘And Thy servant has loved it.’ Therefore truly is he burned because Thy word, Lord, he loved; that is to say to ponder, and after it to work. Thee he has sought sooner than Thine, and has received of Thee both Thee and Thine. Others serve Thee in order to have Thine and for Thee they care little. Truly they feign they would be under Thy service, to get worldly honour and to seem glorious among men; but whiles they joy to have found a few things, they lose many; because of Thee and Thine, and themselves and theirs.

It also behoves us to pray that we may be saved; therefore James warns, saying: Orate pro invicem ut salvemini, ’Pray for yourselves, that ye be saved.’

Also that we be not made slow, and that we be continually occupied in good: therefore it is said: Vigilate et orate ne intretis in temptationem, that is to say: ‘Wake ye and pray, that ye enter not into temptation.’ Truly we ought ever to pray or read or meditate, with other profitable deeds, that our enemy never find us idle.

But it must be taken heed to with all busyness that we wake in prayer, that is to say not be lulled by vain thoughts that withdraw the mind and make it forget whither it is bound and alway let, if they can, to overcome the effect of devotion; the which the mind of the pray-er would perceive if he prayed with wakefulness, busyness and desire.

CHAPTER XXI

THAT CONTEMPLATIVE LIFE IS WORTHIER AND MEEDFULLER THAN ACTIVE: AND OF BOTH PRELACY AND PREACHING

By some truly it is doubted which life is more meedful and better; contemplative or active. It seems to not a few that active is meedfuller because of the many deeds and preachings that it uses. But these err unknowingly, for they know not the virtue of contemplative. Yet there are many active better than some contemplative; but the best contemplative are higher than the best active.

Therefore we say the contemplative life is altogether the better, the sweeter, the more worthy, and the more meedful as to the true meed, that is joy of the unwrought good, because the contemplative more burningly loves God. And more grace is asked if contemplative life be led rightly, than active.

The reason of more fervent love in contemplative life than in active is because in contemplative they are in rest of mind and body, and therefore they taste the sweetness of eternal, before all mortal love. The active truly serve God in labour and outward running about, and tarry but little in inward rest, wherefore they can not be delighted save seldom and shortly; the contemplative soothly love as if they were continually within the halsing of their Beloved.

Forsooth some gainsetting say: active life is more fruitful; for it does works of mercy, it preaches and works other such deeds; wherefore it is more meritorious. I say, nay, for such works belong to accidental reward, that is, joy of the thing wrought. And so one that shall be taken into the order of angels can have some meed that he that shall be in the order of cherubim or seraphim shall not have; that is to say joy of some good deed that he did in this life, the which another—that without comparison surpasses in God’s love—did not. Also ofttimes it happens that some one of less meed is good, and preaches; and another preaches not, that mickle more loves. Is not this one better because he preaches? No; but the one that loves more is higher and better, although he be less in preaching he shall have some meed, because he preached not, that the greater was not worthy of.

Therefore it is shown that man is not holier or higher for the outward works that he does. Truly God that is the Beholder of the heart rewards the will more than on the deeds. For the more burningly that a man loves, in so mickle he ascends to a higher reward.

Truly, in true contemplative men, there is a full sweet heat and the plenteousness of God’s love abiding, from the which a joyful sound is sent into them with untrowed mirth; and this is never found in active men in this life, because they take not heed only to heavenly things, so that they might be worthy to joy in Jesu. And therefore active life is worthily put behind; and contemplative life, in this present and in the life to come is worthily preferred.

Wherefore in the litter of the true Solomon the pillars are of silver and the resting place of gold. The pillars of the chair are the strong upbearers and the good governors of holy kirk; these are of silver, for in conversation they are clear and in preaching full of sound. The gold resting place are contemplative men; on the which, being in high rest, Christ especially rests His Head, and they forsooth in Him singularly rest. These are of gold, for they are purer and dearer in honesty of living, and are redder in burning of loving and contemplating.

God forsooth has forordained His chosen to fulfill divers services. It is not given truly to ilk man to execute or fulfill all offices, but ilk man has that that is most according to his state. Wherefore the Apostle says: Unicuique nostrum data est gracia secundum mensuram donationis Christi; that is to say: ‘To ilk one of us is grace given after the measure of Christ’s gift.’

Some truly do alms of righteously gotten goods; others to their death defend the truth; others clearly and strongly preach God’s word, and others show their preaching in their writing; others suffer for God great penance and wretchedness in this life; others, by the gift of contemplation, are only busy to God and set themselves straitly to love Christ. But without doubt, among all estates that are in the kirk, they that are become contemplative joy with a special gift; they are now worthy with singing to joy in God’s love.

Truly if any man might get both lives, that is to say contemplative and active, and keep and fulfill them, he were full great; that he might fulfill bodily service, and nevertheless feel the heavenly sound in himself, and be melted in singing into the joy of heavenly love. I wot not if ever any mortal man had this. To me it seems impossible that both should be together.

Christ truly in this respect is not to be numbered among men, nor His blest Mother among women. For Christ had no wandering thoughts, and He was not contemplative in a common manner, as saints in this life are contemplative; truly He needed not to labour as we need, because, from the beginning of His Conceiving, He saw God.

No marvel by great exercise of ghostly works there comes into us a songful joy, and we receive the sweetest sound from heaven; and so henceforward we desire to stand in rest, that with great sweetness we may joy. Therefore he that serves active life well is busy to go up to contemplative life.

He who truly is raised in the manner aforesaid with the gift of heavenly contemplation, comes not down to active; unless peradventure he be compelled to take governance of Christians; that I trow has seldom or never happened. But other contemplatives can well be chosen for that, because they are less imbued with heat of love. Forsooth lesser saints are sometimes more able than greater for the office of prelacy, because they that could not rest perfectly in inward desires shall behave themselves more accordingly about outward business.

CHAPTER XXII

THE BURNING OF LOVE PURGES VICES AND SINS: AND OF THE TOKENS OF TRUE FRIENDSHIP

The burning of love truly taken into a soul purges all vices; it voids both too mickle and too little, and plants the beauty of all virtues. It never stands with deadly sin, and if it do with venial yet nevertheless the moving and desire of love in God can be so burning that they waste all venial sins, without also thinking in deed of these same venial sins: for whilst the true lover is borne to God with strong and fervent desire, all things displease him that withdraw him from the sight of God. Truly whiles he is gladdened by songly joy, his heart may not express what he feels of heavenly things, and therefore he languishes for love.

Perfect men also never bear what may be burned to the life to come, for in the heat of Christ’s love all their sins are wasted. But lest any man ween himself perfect in vain when he is not, let him hear when a man has perfection in himself.

This truly is the life of the Perfect: to cast away all charge of worldly errands; to forsake father and mother and all thy goods for Christ; to despise all passing goods, for endless life; to destroy worldly desires with long labour; as far as it is possible to refrain from lechery and all unlawful movings; to burn only in the love of our Maker; after bitter sorrows and surpassing busyness in ghostly works, to feel the sweetness of heavenly contemplation: and so, I speak of men privileged, for the joy of God’s love, to be taken by contemplation into ghostly song or heavenly sound, and to bide sweetly in inward rest, all disturbances being put aback, in so mickle that whiles it is lawful to the man of God to work nothing outward, he is taken within to sing the sweetness of eternal love in songs of delight and unmeasured mirth. Thus, no marvel that he shall have sweetness in mind such as the angels have in heaven; although not so mickle.

Soothly in this wise is man made perfect; and he shall not need to be purged with fire after this life, who, being in the flesh, burns burningly with the fire of the Holy Ghost. And yet this perfect love makes not a man ay not to sin, but that sin lasts not in him but is wasted forthwith by the fire of love.

Truly such a lover of Jesus Christ says not his prayers like other righteous men, for, set in righteous mind, and ravished above himself by the love of Christ, he is taken into marvellous mirth, and a goodly sound is shed into him, so that he as it were sings his prayers with notes; also offering with his mouth melody that, though hidden from human sense, is full bright to God and to himself. Strength and ghostly virtue have now truly so mickle overcome in him heaviness of the flesh that he can be ay glad in Christ; whose heart, turned into fire of love, feels verily heavenly heat, so that he can scarcely with life bear the greatness of such burning love. But the goodness of God keeps him until the time ordained; the which gave it him that he so mickle, might love, and truly say, ‘I languish for love.’

As the Seraphim burned, he burns and loves; he signs and joys, he praises and grows warm; and the more pleasing he is, the hotter he burns in love. He not only dreads not death, but he is glad to die with the Apostle: Mihi, inquit, Christus vivere vita est, et mori gaudium, that is to say: ‘Christ to me is life; and to die great joy’; etc.

CHAPTER XXIII

THAT PERFECT LOVE MINGLES NOTHING WITH GOD: AND WHY. AND THAT IT IS NEEDFUL TO LOVE: AND OF THE BLINDNESS OF FLESHLY LOVE

If we perfectly forsake the filth of sins and the vices of this world, we love nothing but God. How truly should God be all in all if anything were in man beside His love? No man truly has joy unless he loves the good.

The more therefore that a man loves God, no marvel the more plenteously he shall joy in Him; because the more busily and fervently we desire anything, it being gotten, the more heartily we joy. Therefore truly has a man joy because he has God; and God truly is that Joy: the which forsooth none of them have that seek anything besides God. For if I desire anything for myself, and I set not my God as the end of that desire, sicker it is that I have made a traitor of myself, and my hidden guilt is openly shown.

God truly will be loved in this wise: that no man be mingled with Him in His love. For if thou dividest thy heart and dreadest not to love another thing with Him, without doubt know well that thy love is forsaken of God; the which vouchsafes not for to behold a part of love. All the whole truly or nought He takes; for He gainbought the whole. For in the sin of Father Adam forsooth thy body and thy soul were damned; wherefore God is come down into a Maiden’s body and become man, and has given the price of thy deliverance, that not only He might deliver thy soul from the power of the fiends, but also He might make thy body with thy soul blessed at the end of the world. Therefore thou hast the commandments of eternal life. If thou wilt enter the kingdom, lost, and after reparalled with Christ’s blood, it behoves thee to keep God’s commandments.

And truly as thou desirest after thy death to ascend into full and perfect joy, so it behoves thee in this life to have mind to love God with a whole and perfect heart. Else as now thou art not given to God’s love, so then not perfect joy but endless torment shalt thou have. For truly whiles thou takest not heed to thy Maker with whole love and mind, thou art proved soothly to love some creature of God more than is honest or lawful. A soul can not be reasonable without love whiles it is in this life: wherefore the love thereof is the foot of the soul, by which, after this pilgrimage, it is borne to God or the fiend; that it may be subject to him whose will here it served.

Nothing truly can be loved but for the goodness that it has, or else seems that it has, and which is either in the loved or certainly thought to be in that that is loved. Herefore truly it is that lovers of bodily beauty or worldly riches are beguiled as it were by witchcraft; for delight is not those things the which we think we feel or see, nor the joy that is feigned, nor the good name that we give it.

No man therefore more damnably forgets his soul than he that sets his eye on woman for lechery; truly whilst the sight of the eye kindles the soul, anon from the things seen thought enters and engenders desire in the heart, and defiles the inward beauty. Wherefore suddenly with burning of a noyous fire it is umbelapped and blinded, that it may not see the sentence of the strait Judge. And thus the soul, taken from heavenly sight by evil and unclean love, stints not to show tokens of her error; and unless she may bring forth the filth that is conceived, she mistrusts of her prosperity.

Filth forsooth she conceived, that is to say wicked desire; thereby shall wickedness worthily be brought forth, because the soul the sooner slides to slippery lust inasmuch as she takes no heed to the great peril in which she errs. The dooms of God are withdrawn also from her face. Whiles truly she begins to take pleasure in fleshly desires, she sees not into how great a pit of wretchedness she casts herself.

Soothly the doom of God is that he who wilfully despised God, casting himself down into deadly sin, shall, God deeming, unwillingly be damned after this life. In the time to come truly he can not defend himself from the pains of hell, that, set in this life, would not, when he could, with all his power forsake deadly sins, and wholly hate all wickedness.

Richard Rolle: Part 4

Richard Rolle: Part 5

Richard Rolle: Fire of Love

Richard Rolle: Part 3