worthily ask through Jesus Christ our Lord.’” Julian tells how in her thinking of sin and its hurt there passed before her sight all that Christ bore for us, “and His dying; and all the pains and passions of all His creatures, ghostly and bodily; and the beholding of this—with all pains that ever were or ever shall be” (xxvii). From sin, except as a general conception, Julian’s natural instinct was to turn her eyes; but with this Christly compassion in her heart in looking on the sorrows of the world she could not but take account of its sin. As she came to be convinced that “though we be highly lifted up into contemplation, it is needful for us to see our own sin,”—albeit we should not accuse ourselves “overdone much” or “be heavy or sorrowful indiscreetly”—so when sins of others were brought before her she would seek with compassion to take the sinner’s part of contrition and prayer. “The beholding of other man’s sins, it maketh as it were a thick mist afore the eyes of the soul, and we cannot, for the time, see the fairness of God, but if we can behold them with contrition with him, with compassion on him, and with holy desire to God for him” (lxxvi.).
And notwithstanding all the stir and eager revival of the Fourteenth Century in religion, politics, literature and general life, there was much both of sin and of sorrow then to exercise the pitiful soul—troubles enough in Norwich itself, of oppression and riot and desolating pestilence—troubles enough in Europe, West and East,—wars and enslaving and many cruelties in distant lands, and harried Armenian Christians coming to the Court of Edward to plead for succour in their long-enduring patience. There was trouble wherever one looked; but to prayer, and to that compassion which is in itself a prayer, the answer came. Indeed the compassion was its own first immediate answer: for “then I saw that each kind compassion that man hath on his even-Cristen (his fellow-Christians) with charity, it is Christ in him.” This is the comfort that both comforts in waiting and calls to deeds of help. And such “charity” of social service was not beyond the scope of the life “enclosed,”—whether it might be by deed or, as more often, by speech.{11}
It is in her seeking for truth and her beholding of Love that we best know Julian. Of the opening of the Revelation she says: “In all this I was greatly stirred in charity to mine even-Christians, that they might see and know the same that I saw: for I would it were comfort to them,” and again and again throughout the book she declares that the “special Shewing” is given not for her in special, but for all—for all are meant to be one in comfort as all are one in need. “Because of the Shewing I am not good, but if I love God the better: and in as much as ye love God the better it is more to you than to me…. For we are all one in comfort. For truly it was not shewed me that God loved me better than the least soul that is in grace; for I am certain that there be many that never had any Shewing nor sight but of the common teaching of Holy Church that love God better than I. For if I look singularly to myself I am right nought; but in general [manner of regarding] I am, I hope, in oneness of charity with all mine even-Christians. For in this oneness standeth the life of all mankind that shall be saved, and that which I say of me, I say in the person of all mine evenChristians: for I am taught in the Spiritual Shewing of our Lord God that He meaneth it so. And therefore I pray you for God’s sake, and counsel you for your own profit that ye leave the beholding of a worthless creature [a “wretch”] it was shewed to and mightily, wisely and meekly behold God that of His special goodness would shew it generally, in comfort of us all” (ix.).
Thus Julian turns our eyes from looking on her to looking with her on the Revelation of Divine Love.
Yet surely in her we have also “a shewing”—a shewing of the same. She tells us little of her own story, and little is told us of her by any one else, but all through her recording of the Revelation the simple creature to whom it was made unconsciously shews herself, so that soon we come to know her with a pleasure that surely she would not think too “special” in its regard. (For she herself in speaking of Love makes note that the general does not exclude the special). Perhaps we are helped in this friendly acquaintanceship by those endearingly characteristic little formulas of speech disavowing any claim to dogmatic authority in the statements of her views of truth: those modest parentheses “as to my sight,” “as to mine understanding.” “Wisdom and truth and love,” the dower that she saw in the Gracious soul, were surely in the soul of this meek woman; but enclosing these gifts of nature and grace are qualities special to Julian: depth of passion, with quietness, order, and moderation; loyalty in faith, with clearest candour—“I believe… but this was not shewed me”—(xxxiii., lxxvii., lxxx.) pitifulness and sympathy, with hope and a blithe serenity; sound good sense with a little sparkle upon it—as of delicate humour (that crowning virtue of saints); and beneath all, above all, an exquisite tenderness that turns her speech to music. “I will lay thy Stones with fair Colours.”
“Thou hast the dews of thy youth.” Hundreds of years have gone since that early morning in May when Julian thought she was dying and was “partly troubled” for she felt she was yet in youth and would gladly have served God more on earth with the gift of her days—hundreds of years since the time that her heart would fain have been told by special Shewing that “a certain creature I loved should continue in good living”—but still we have “mind” of her as “a gentle neighbour and of our knowing.” For those that love in simplicity are always young; and those that have had with the larger Vision of Love the gift of love’s passionate speech, to God or man, in word or form or deed, as treasure held—live yet on the earth, untouched by time, though their light is shining elsewhere for other sight.
“From that time that the Revelation was shewed I desired oftentimes to learn what was our Lord’s meaning. And fifteen years afterwards and more, I was answered in ghostly understanding, saying thus: Wouldst thou learn thy Lord’s meaning in this thing? Learn it well: Love was His meaning. Who shewed it thee? Love. What shewed He thee? Love. Wherefore shewed it He? For Love. Hold thee therein and thou shalt learn and know more in the same. But thou shalt never know nor learn other thing without end.”
And if we, with no special shewing, might ask and, in trust of “spiritual understanding,” might answer more—asking to whom, and for whom was the Revelation shewed, we might answer: To one that loved; for all that would learn in love.
“Ecco chi crescerà li nostri amort”!{12}
“Here is one who shall increase our love.”
Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.
Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth.
Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God.
PART II. THE MANNER OF THE BOOK
As an hert desirith to the wellis of watris:
so thou God, my soule desirith to thee….
The Lord sent his merci in the day:
and his song in the nyght.
Ps. ‘Quemadmodum’; from the Prymer.
WITHOUT any special study of the literature of Mysticism for purposes of comparison, in reading Julian’s book one is struck by a few characteristics wherein it differs from many other Mystical writings as well as by qualities that belong to most or all of that general designation.
The silence of this book both as to preliminary ascetic exercises and as to ultimate visions of the Absolute, might be attributed to Julian’s being wholly concerned with giving, for comfort to all, that special sight of truth that came to her as the answer to her own need. She sets out not to teach methods of any kind for the gradual drawing near of man to God, but to record and shew forth a Revelation, granted once, of God’s actual nearness to the soul, and for this Revelation she herself had been prepared by the “stirring”
