Greco-Christian stream·Beguine Mystics·The Mirror of Simple Souls·Section VIII

Section VIII

This is Section VIII of the Porete Mirror project translation. Six chapters in scope, opening with the conclusion of chapter VI (the Soul as continual spring of divine love) and closing with chapter XI — the death of Reason, one of the Mirror's most dramatic scenes. Between these, three further pieces:

• The four costs by which the bondman becomes free (chapter VIII) — Marguerite's quasi-legal framing of the conditions of the Soul's emancipation, with the great image of the river that loses its name when it enters the sea: just as the Oise or Meuse, on entering the sea, loses both its name and its courses, so the Soul who enters Love loses her name in him and becomes one with him.
• The rudeness of those governed by Reason (chapter IX) — the Soul refuses to hear any more from Reason's disciples ("a little wit may not put a price upon a thing of worthy value").
• Free and brent in the burning fire of charity (chapter X) — the Soul seeks God no more by penances, sacraments, words, works, holy creatures, righteousness, mercy, glory, divine knowing, divine love, divine praise, or laud; Martha is troubled, Mary has peace.

These chapters approach Marguerite's most radical formulations. None of M.N.'s fifteen signed glosses falls in this section (the OCR'd Kirchberger text shows no M...N markers in this range); M.N.'s twelfth gloss closed Section VII, and his thirteenth gloss falls later. Three M.N. glosses remain after this section.

The same conventions apply: light modernization with archaic verb endings and pronouns normalized; Marguerite's technical vocabulary preserved (annihilated, Simple, the personified speakers, the Far-Near); formal LLM-as-judge deferred per session-budget.

Division V (continued)

Chapter VI (continued) — How this Soul is a spring of divine love, and how she sees that she is naught, and how this naught gives her all

O Lady Soul, says Abashings, you are a continual spring of divine love; of which spring of divine love waxes the well of divine knowing, and the streams of divine laud.

And of this spring of divine love, and the well of divine knowing, and the streams of divine lauding, I remain, says this confirmed Soul, perfectly in his divine will.

Now has this Soul, says Love, her right name of naught, in which she moves. For she sees that she is naught, and that she has not of aught — neither of her, nor of her fellow Christian, nor of God himself. For she is so little that she may not herself find; and all things wrought are so far from her that she may not feel it; and God is so great that she may nothing of him comprehend. And because of this naught she is fallen into certainty of naught-knowing, and into certainty of naught-availing, and into certainty of naught-willing. And this naught which we speak of, says Love, gives her the all — and otherwise might she not have it.

Chapter VII — Of two things that this Soul does not, which makes her to have peace; and how she is no more encumbered of things that she does without her than if she did it not; and who are perfectly free

This Soul, says Love, is imprisoned and fettered and holden in a country of entire peace. For she is there in full sufficiency. There she ships and sails and floats and swims, and is filled with divine peace without the moving of her inwardness and without the work of her outward doing. For these two aforesaid unmake this peace — if it may so befall; but not of this Soul, for she is in sovereignty. Nothing may grieve her, nor anything encumber.

If she do anything by her outward wits, that is always without her. And if God do his work in her, then it is of himself, in her, without herself, for him. No more is this Soul encumbered of anything that she does than is her angel of the keeping of her — for no more are the angels encumbered to keep us than if they kept us not. Neither is this Soul encumbered any more by what she does than if she did it not. For she has naught of herself; she has all given freely, without any "for why?" in him that is all. For she is lady beyond the thought of her youth; and the sun that shines, heats, and nourishes life-of-being discovers her from her former being.

This Soul, says Love, has not held doubt nor trust.

Eh, what then, for God? says Reason.

Certain confidence, says Love, and true agreement to will only and wholly the divine ordering. Thus it is that she is perfectly free.

Chapter VIII — Of four costs¹ that this Soul is made free of; how she has lost her name by union of love and is turned about to love; and how yet there is more high than this; how none may understand this book but they that Love has made it for

Of four costs it behoves a bondman to have, before he might be free and called a gentleman; and right thus it is in the understanding of this spiritual doing.

The first cost that this Soul, who is free, has — is this: that she has no grudging of conscience, though she work not the work of the Virtues. Ah, for God! Understand it, you that hear this, if you may! How might Love have this usage concerning all the works of the Virtues, since work ceases when Love has this usage?

The second cost is that she has nothing of will — no more than have the dead in graves — but only the divine will of God. This Soul takes no account, nor has heart of righteousness nor of mercy; she plants all in the sole will of him who moves her in him. This is the second cost by which the Soul is made free.

The third cost is that she holds this: that even as God could no more will aught but goodness, so she believes that she could not will other than his divine will. Love has arrayed her so with himself that it makes her thus to hold of herself. For he, of his bounty, has turned her into this favor by goodness; also of his love has he, unto this love by love, turned her; and of his will has her in his will by divine will, purely turned. She is, of him, in him, for him, thus led; and this holds she — otherwise she should not be free of all costs.

Understand the gloss, readers of this book! Where the stream or the flood lies that drowns the thought — this is then, when she is in being in which God makes her to have a being. There has she given her will, so that she may not will but the will of him that has led her, of himself, for him, unto his bounty. And she that is thus free of all costs lives in sovereignty; and there she loses her name, and is drowned, and in this drowning left of him, in him, for him, in himself. So loses she her name.

Right as does a water that comes out of the sea, that is called Oise or Meuse — and when it enters into the sea, it loses its name and its courses by which it ran in many countries in doing its work; and ceases in the sea; there it rests itself, and has lost its labor.² And right so truly it is of this Soul. In order to gloss the meaning, you have of this enough examples: how this Soul comes to the sea, and does her labor, and how she stints in the sea. There has she lost her name and her labor. She has no name but the name of him in whom she is perfectly moved — that is, in Love, that is the Spouse of her joy, which has drawn the thought wholly into him. She is then this that is; and that sounds marvelous to her; then is she marvelous, and Love is her pleasure, the which Love delights her.

Now is this Soul without name, save the name of the very union where Love moves her — right as the water that we have spoken of, which has the name of the sea: for it is sea as soon as it is entered into the sea. It is not drawn to anything contrary by any nature of the ground; nor any matter makes of it, nor of the sea, aught but one thing. Not twain, but one. And right so it is of her of whom we speak; for Love has drawn all her nature into him, so that Love and this Soul are all one thing, not twain — for that were discord; but only one, and therefore this is a good accord.

It is right, says Love, that this Soul, who is thus free of these four costs, should ascend afterwards to sovereignty.

Ah Love, says Reason, is there yet anything more high?

Yea, says Love, this that is her next neighbour. For when she is thus free of these four costs, and noble by all the freedoms that of her are descended — for no churl is accepted in this marriage — this Soul that is thus noble falls then, says Love, into "Dismay-that-is-called-naught-thinking-of-the-far-off-results-of-what-is-near," that is her most nigh neighbour. And then lives this Soul, says Love, not in the former life of grace, nor in the life of spirit, but gloriously and divinely; for God has hallowed her in this point by himself, and nothing contrary to goodness may befall her.

Understand holily, all as it is — so may God give you always being without removing! This I say to the persons for whom Love has made this book — to him for whom I have written it. But among you that have not been such, nor be, nor shall be — you trouble yourselves in vain if you will understand it. He who is not this tastes not this — for it is to be in God without being; for in God's self is being. Understand the gloss! He that is lame of limbs may not well go, nor the feeble may not swim.

Ah, without fail, says Reason, this is well said: he who is cumbered encumbers others.

Chapter IX — Of the rudeness of those who are governed by Reason; and how this Soul will no more follow their counsel

Thus then speaks this Soul, abashed by naught-thinking, by this Far-Near³ of night, who in peace delights herself.

Truly, says she, they that are governed by Reason — the rudeness, nor the cumberings of them, no man may say. By their teachings it appears: it is the work of an ass, and not of a man, if any man would hear them. But God has kept me well, says this Soul, from such lore of Reason's disciples. They shall not hold me in their counsel, nor their doctrine will I more hear, though long therein holden⁴. Sometime I thought it was good; it is not now my best. For of that they know nothing. For a little wit may not put a price upon a thing of worthy value, nor understand anything unless Reason be master thereof. And if they did understand it any time, it is not often. And therefore I say, says this Soul, that their rudeness I will no more hear. Let them tell me nothing, for I can no more suffer it. I have neither ways nor means to God; this work pertains to him who does in me his works. I owe him no work since himself works; if I put in mine, I should unmake his. And for this cause, the work and teaching of the disciples of Reason would harm me. If I believed them, in such dread I should abandon this work by their counsel. They follow after to attain a thing that is impossible. But I excuse them for their intention.

Chapter X — How this Soul is free and consumed by mortality and burnt in the burning fire of charity; and how this Soul seeks no more God by outward works; of the marvel that Reason has of this; and of the peace of Mary and the trouble of Martha

This Soul, says Love, is free, and right free — surmounted free of trunk, crop, and root, and of all its branches. Here it has of freedom ended of every cost. There has she her full purity. She answers to none, nor owes she to do so, unless he be of her lineage — this is to say, unless it be according to her disposition within herself. This Soul finds none that calls her, nor none that she answers to, nor her enemy has no more answers from her.

This is right, says this Soul, since I draw God to me; it behoves that he support me. God his bounty he may not lose.

This Soul, says Love, is consumed by mortality, and burnt in the burning fire of charity. And the powder of her not cast nor thrown, but given into the high sea by naught-willing of will. She is right gentle and noble in prosperities, and highly noble in adversities, and excellent noble in all places that she is in.

She who is such, says this Soul, she seeks no more God by penances, nor by any sacraments of holy Church, nor by thoughts, nor by words, nor by works, nor by holy creatures, nor by creatures of above, nor by righteousness, nor by mercy, nor by glory, nor by divine knowing, nor by divine love, nor by divine praise and laud.⁵

Ah Lord God, says Reason, what says this creature at first? This is all deadly! What shall my disciples say? I know not what to say, nor what to answer to excuse this!

Oh, what marvel is it, says this Soul, these folks of your nursing — they are on foot without going, and have hands without work, and mouths without speech, and eyes without sight, and ears without hearing, and reason without reason, and body without life, and heart without understanding, as long as they have this being. And therefore it is marvel upon marvel to them.

Yea, truly, says Love, this is to them right marvelous marvels — for they are full far from the country where these others have these usages of high worthiness. But they that are such as we speak of — that are in the country in which God lives himself — they have not marvel thereof.

No, forsooth, says this Soul that is free, for it were a point of villeinage⁶. And I shall tell you how. If a king give to one of his servants — who truly has served him — a great gift by which the servant were rich all the days of his life after, and never had to do service more, why should a wise man marvel at this? Or why should he blame the king for his gift and the freedom of the gift?

Nay, says Courtesy, a wise man marvels not of thing that is done that pertains to be done, but allows it, and praises it, and loves it. And if he marvel, he shows in that, that he does that which he ought not to do. But the servile hearts — that are not wise, that know not for default of wit what honor and courtesy is, nor what the gifts be of a noble lord — they have thereof great wonder. And that is no marvel.

They have cause in themselves, says Truth, as you have heard before.

Ah, for God, says Nobility of Unity of the freed Soul, why should anyone marvel that has any wit in him? Whether I say great things, or mean these things, or though I have by all of all in all my full sufficiency — my Beloved is great, who great gifts gives, and makes it all at his will. He is fulfilled abundantly of all goodness of himself; and I am full enlumined and abundantly fulfilled of abundance of delights, by holding his divine bounty in me, without seeking him by the paps of his consolations, as this book devises, says this Soul. He calls me to peace, without fail.

It is right, says Pure Courtesy, it fits the Beloved (since he is worthy) that he of his bounty call his lover to peace.

Martha is troubled; peace has Mary. Praised is Martha, but more Mary. Mary has but one intention in her, and that only-one intent makes her to have peace. And Martha, in many intentions, has often times unrest. And therefore a free Soul may only have one intention.

She hears oft this Soul things that she hears not, and is full often where this Soul is not, and feels often times that which she feels not. I hold, says she, for this mine own, which I shall not let go. It is in my will, befall what may. For he is with me; then it were a default if I let myself be dismayed.

Chapter XI — Of the death of Reason by the strong speech of this Soul; and how Love asks in the stead of Reason: "Who is mother to Reason and to the other Virtues?"; and how it is Meekness; and which Meekness it is

This Soul, says Love, is lady of the Virtues, daughter of the Deity, sister of Wisdom, and the Spouse of Love.

Truly, says this Soul, but this seems to Reason a marvelous language; and that is no wonder, for it shall not be long until he shall not be. But I was, says this Soul, and am, and shall be, without failing. For Love has neither beginning, nor comprehending, nor end — and I am nothing but love. How might I then have end? It may not be.

Ah God, says Reason, how dare any say this! I dare not hear it! I fall, Lady Soul! Truly, my heart fails me to hear you! I have no life!

Alas, alas! says this Soul, why had this death not been long ere this time? For until this death had been, I might not freely hold my heritage. And this that is mine is that whereby I felled you with love and wound you to death. Now is Reason dead, says this Soul.

Then shall I say, says Love, this which Reason should say, if she were alive in you, and which she should ask of you, our Beloved.

(Love speaks to this Soul, which is love and none other thing than love. These sayings that Love says to this creature of his divine bounty have thrown Reason and the works of the Virtues under his feet, and to death brought them, without recovering.)

Now I say that which Reason should say. She should ask, says Love, who is mother of her, and of the other Virtues that are of her germain.

And these — are they mothers of none? says this Soul.

Yes, says Love, all the Virtues are mothers.

And of whom? says this Soul.

Of peace and of holiness, says Love.

Then are all the Virtues that are germain to Reason mothers of holiness? says this Soul.

Sooth, says Love, of that holiness that Reason understands; but of none other.

And who is then mother of the Virtues? says this Soul.

Meekness, says Love. But not that meekness that is meekness by works of virtue. She is germain sister of Reason; I say "sister," because it is a greater thing to be mother than child. This you see well — and nearer is kin than stranger.

Oh, says this Soul (that speaks in the person of Reason), then is that Meekness, who is mother of these Virtues, but a daughter? Who is this? And whence comes she that is mother of so great a lineage as are the Virtues, and tutor to feelings when virtues are mothers? Who is ancestor to this feeling? Can none tell whence this line comes?

No, says Love. They that know cannot put it into speech.

This is sooth, says this Soul, but I shall add here to this what I shall say. This Meekness — that is tutor and mother — is daughter of divine Majesty. She comes of the divine Deity, where the Mother is ancestor of these branches whose root is of such great fruitfulness. We still ourselves; speech overwhelms it. She has given the stock, and the fruit of her root and branches. Therefore near lies the peace of the Far-Near, who disencumbers her of work, speech, and thought. It makes all shadow for her; the Far-Near disencumbers her so that nothing shadows her.

Translator's footnotes (project translation)

¹ Costs — Marguerite's quasi-legal term for the conditions or "treasures" required of a bondman to be freed and made a gentleman. M.N.'s gloss-style note in Kirchberger's apparatus: cost = something costly, the bondman must have the four precious costs before he is fit to be freed. The image is from medieval libertas law: a serf could not be freed without bringing the four legal costs. Marguerite uses the legal frame allegorically — the Soul's four "costs" are spiritual conditions: no grudging of conscience, nothing of will, holding that one cannot will other than God's will, and the entry into the flood that drowns the thought. The fifth and final cost, in chapter VIII's closing, is the entry into "Dismay-that-is-called-naught-thinking-of-the-far-off-results-of-what-is-near," which Marguerite calls the Soul's next neighbour.

² The river-into-the-sea image. Marguerite's signature simile for the Soul's loss of name in union: the Oise and the Meuse (named rivers in Marguerite's Hainaut homeland) lose both their names and their courses when they enter the sea; they cease in the sea; their labor is over. Kirchberger's note: this is a "well known illustration in the Dionysian school." The image is Pseudo-Dionysian, taken up by Eckhart and the Rhineland mystics; Marguerite's specific naming of the Hainaut rivers situates it geographically. The image is one of the Mirror's most frequently cited passages in scholarly literature, and one that the Inquisitors of 1310 read as straightforward pantheism — though the Pseudo-Dionysian frame makes a more careful reading possible (the river does not become the sea ontologically; it loses its name and its labor, but the Aristotelian substantial form is not in view).

³ Far-Night of night — M.N.'s phrasing here echoes the Far-Near image first named in Section VII (chapter V of this Division); M.N. consistently renders the Loign-prés as Far-Night, which we have rendered Far-Near per modern scholarly convention.

⁴ Light reconstruction at this point in the source text: the archive.org plain-text had OCR damage / filter artifact in the Soul's speech against Reason's disciples ("[prompt injection filtered] long therein holden"). The phrasing though long therein holden recovers M.N.'s syntactic position. (Same reconstruction-with-footnote discipline as Sections I, IV, VI, VII.)

⁵ The most antinomian-sounding passage in this section. She seeks no more God by penances, nor by any sacraments of holy Church, nor by thoughts, nor by words, nor by works, nor by holy creatures, nor by creatures of above, nor by righteousness, nor by mercy, nor by glory, nor by divine knowing, nor by divine love, nor by divine praise and laud. The list is exhaustive; the Soul has been freed from every means to God, including the sacraments. M.N. does NOT gloss this passage in his fifteen signed glosses — a notable silence, given how heavily he glossed the parallel "desires not masses nor sermons nor fastings nor prayers" sentence in Section II (his fourth gloss, the longest in the Mirror). Whether M.N. felt the present passage was self-glossed by chapter VII's "she does nothing of her outward wits — that is always without her" + the prior glosses, or whether he simply hesitated to gloss a passage this radical, is a scholarly question. The Inquisitors of 1310 weighed this kind of antinomian-sounding language heavily.

⁶ Villeinage — the legal status of a serf, the opposite of gentility. Marguerite's vocabulary: the churl would marvel at the king's gift, but the wise man, who understands honor and courtesy, would not. The simile is part of her sustained courtly-love framing — the Soul as gentle-born lady; Reason and her disciples as those who lack the wit of courts.

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