1. THE fourth general mortification is a constant peacefulness and tranquillity of mind, maintaining itself against all disquieting passions of grief, fear, despair, &c.; of which I shall in this place speak briefly, and only in a general manner, being shortly in the following section to treat largely of the chief enemy thereof, which is fear and scrupulosity, where I shall take notice of the special motives or instruments of procuring such peace of mind, and of restoring it when it is lost.
2. Without a reasonable proportion of such tranquillity obtained, a soul will be quite disabled from internal prayer. Therefore she is to use all care to preserve it, and when it is disturbed or lost she must endeavour as soon, and after the best manner she can, to regain it, till she be able to say, `None shall take my peace from me;' and to use the words of the Psalmist (Anima mea in manibus meis semper), `My soul is always in my hands and disposition, and not captivated by the corrupt passions of nature.'
3. The subject of this peace is the soul according to all its
faculties, both knowing and affecting, and both in the superior
and spiritual, as also in the inferior and sensitive portion; for
not only the affections of the will and passions of sensuality,
but also the reason and imagination, may be disturbed; and,
therefore, a composedness and calmness is to be procured through
all. But yet the ways and means hereto necessary are not the
same; neither does it follow that when the inferior faculties
are in disorder that the same disorder should be communicated
to the superior also. It does not always lie in our power wholly
to suppress the instability and obstinacy of the imagination,
4. Neither ought a well-minded soul to be discouraged or dejected at the contradiction that she finds in sensuality; but resisting it the best she can, she must be resigned and patient with herself, as she would be at the refractory humours of another, till that, by God's blessing, a longer exercise of prayer and mortification do produce a greater subjection of sensual nature to reason and grace. In the mean time she may comfort herself with this assurance, that all merit and demerit lies in the superior will, and not at all in sensuality considered in itself, and as divided from the will.
5. During the conflict between reason and sense, or appetite, there may be a real tranquillity in the superior region of the soul, although the person be not able to discern that there is any such quietness; yea, on the contrary, to fearful natures it will seem that whensoever the sensitive part is disturbed, the spiritual portion doth also partake of its disorders; and this uncertainty, mistake, and fear that a fault has been committed is the ground of much scrupulosity, and by means thereof, of great unquietness indeed, even in the superior soul, to persons that are not well instructed in the nature and subordination of the faculties and operations of the soul.
6. However, a well-minded soul may conclude that there is
a calmness in the reason and in the will a refusal to consent to
the suggestions of sensuality, even in the midst of the greatest
disorders thereof, whilst the combat does not cease, and as long
as the outward members, directed by reason and moved by the
superior will, do behave themselves otherwise than the unruly
appetite would move them. For example, when a person being
moved to anger, though he find an unquiet representation in the
imagination and a violent heat and motions about the heart, as
7. When we seek to retain such quietness in the midst of unquietness, we do it by exercising an act of mortification proper to the occasion. Every act whereof doth in some degree abate impetuous nature, disposing us for better and more quiet recollections, which will procure us a clearer light and more efficacious grace to resist sensuality afterwards. As, on the contrary, each act of immortification doth increase in us self-love (the cause and root of all unquietness), and causes a greater obscurity in the soul, indisposing it likewise to prayer.
8. To the end to procure an habitual peacefulness of mind, we must be careful not to do any of our actions (I mean even our actions of duty) with impetuousness and an inward hastiness, but with a composed calmness; for all acts of impetuosity and violence are so far but effects of self-love, and proceed not from the Divine Spirit, which is altogether stillness, serenity, and tranquillity. And let us not suspect that such a calm performance of our duty argues a tepidity and want of fervour. On the contrary, such actions so done are of more virtue and efficacious solidity; for the fervour that is indeed to be desired is not a hasty motion and heat in the inferior nature, but a firm and strong resolution in the will, courageously (yet without violence that is outwardly sensible) breaking through all difficulties and contradictions.
9. All the duties of mortification (and consequently the exercise
of all virtues) may be reduced to custodia cordis, which
is a wary guard of our heart, and it consists in not pouring forth
our affections inordinately upon creatures, nor admitting into
10. True peace of mind, when it is in perfection, is the supreme
state in an internal life, being a stability in one and the
self-same tenor--an immutability, indifference, and insensibility
as to ourselves and to all creatures and events, by which the
soul transcends all, living in God only, and not being concerned
in any other thing besides. And the root of it is the perfection
of Divine charity and the destruction of self-love; for as long
as self-love is active in us it carries us to multiplicity, urging
11 Yet even this state in the most perfect is not absolutely and entirely exempted from all trouble in inferior nature. But such trouble is small and scarce considerable; for notwithstanding it, the superior soul partakes nothing of it, but reigns in that upper region of light and peace, and from thence looks down upon sensuality, either as a thing divided from itself, in whose imperfections and disorders she is nothing concerned, being as it were safe locked up from them in a strong tower, or else she suppresses all such motions in their first breaking out, in virtue of that dominion which, by long practice, she hath gained over them. In such a state of perfect peace (yet without the least contradiction of sensual nature) Adam lived during his innocency. And how far any other mere man hath, or may attain thereto in this life, is not for me to determine.